#Dammit Hedgi Day 2024

[hedgiwithapen]

Leverage timetravel, pre pilot/child ot3 meet their redemption era selves

(I took some liberties re: /meeting/) In hindsight, visiting the US Patent office was probably not their smartest move.  Never return to the scene of the crime, and all, at least not if the job was finished. 

But they'd put a pin in going back for the time machine, and not even a really bad idea could deter Hardison from an actual time machine. Well. Portal, like Eliot had said. 

It hadn't come with an instruction manual, but the three of them, Hardison, Parker, Eliot were professionals at figuring things out on the fly . Even lost in the past. Even scattered. 

Hardison knew he just had to wait, though. They'd find each other. They'd lived through the past once, they could deal with it again, especially knowing everything they did. And it wasn't like they had to live through the whole span of years, either. They just had to find each other, put the pieces back together, scattered with them, and go home. Easier said than done--he was starting to think they might have ended up in different times--but still, the Estimated range was fifteen to twenty years, so that was only five max before they met up, right?

Hardison had gotten right to work. Ads in every major newspaper in the heartland cost plenty, but he had years of criminal practice on top of knowing what tech to invest in, so he really wasn't that worried. He guessed Eliot would be betting on sports games, like in Back to the Future. Parker... well, it was hard to guess where she was. Once he and Eliot met up, they'd have to wait for her to get to them. He did have a few things to do, first.

He knocked on Nana's door, feeling like maybe he ought to be wearing a bow tie. 

"What is it? You from the county?" she asked, when she opened the door. He could see behind her a few curious faces, including his own. Damn, he'd been so tiny. 

"Yes, Ma'am," he said brightly. He could remember this day, vaguely. The box he held was more familiar than his adult face. "I'm here to install your new computer."

"I didn't order any computer," Nana said. "Run your scam someplace else."

"It's not a scam!" he heard his own voice say. "I entered a contest at school."

He had. And he'd lost. Stupid Jake Puckett had won, a kid who could have easily afforded a computer. Alec hadn't known that though, until Hardison'd checked idly. And he wasn't about to just let all of history change. Well, all his own history. 

"You got some proof of that?" Nana asked, and Alec went  scampering off to his room to find his copy of the essay.

Satisfied with the expertly forged documents (wow! it was much easier to forge past documents when you were in the time they were from!) Nana let him in and pointed to a corner desk near an outlet. 

"You ever use your own one of these?" Hardison asked Alec, who shook his head. " just the one at school. I really won?"

"Sure did. Now, let me show you what this thing can do."

~

Eliot stood at the edge of the field, a newspaper crumpled in his hand. Hardison was in Boston, if the ad was right, and of course the ad was. No one else put that much effort into a coded message. 

He watched the football fly. In two weeks, the kid throwing it would be on a bus to boot camp. He closed his eyes. There were options.  Kid wouldn't believe him, of course. There were no secrets yet, to spill as proof. And he was too stubborn to buy the warning.  A good solid tackle, though. Break his arm bad enough...

He'd thought about it. And then about the what ifs. The blood would still be spilled, he knew that. Someone else would end up on Moreau's chain. Someone else would end up with a half dug grave for Flores, and maybe keep digging it.  Everything he'd done for money, the money'd go to someone else. Job might not get done, or it might. 

He'd be there for his mother's funeral. He'd miss Katherine Clive's. Rebecca Ibanez.  the way the drinking might have gone... he'd miss Nate Ford's.  He'd go to school, like his dad wanted, never play college ball. Study something-- art history, maybe -- but no, that was him now. Not him then. Him then would be angry and broken. Him then wouldn't have... his people.

He crumped the paper further. "Dammit, Hardison," he said quietly, and walked away. 

~

Parker had a code. Some things, you just didn't do. Some were big and flashy and obvious. Some were smaller, quieter. 

Hardison would say she shouldn't do this, she knew, and she usually listened to Hardison. He knew what he was talking about, most of the time. You can't change the past. That'd been part of the lecture before they'd gone to steal the time machine.  You can do things, sure, but you always did them. 

Well, Parker hadn't done this. No one had, back the first time she'd lived through this day. But she was doing it anyways, breaking his rule and her own. You don't steal from kids who don't have anything. 

Carefully, she picked the lock on the child's bicycle chain. 

[hedgiwithapen]

SG1 time loop where Daniel keeps dying, like in the Supernatural episode where it just keeps happening no matter what, up to and including loony tunes-style.

"Daniel?" Jack hammered on the door. "C'mon, we don't have time for this."

"Nope," came Daniel's muffled voice. "I'm staying in bed. You can't make me."

"Wanna bet?" Jack asked. 

"Just let me sleep in," Daniel said. "It's not going to change anything."

"Now, what's that supposed to mean?" Jack asked, eyeing the lock. It was the kind that was stupid easy to pick... or just kick in. Breaking the door would probably get him yelled at, but if Daniel was about to go over the balcony again...metaphorically, at least… Worth it. Even if Hammond made him fix it. 

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather die in my sleep a couple times instead of an Iris malfunction or getting zatted."

"Come again?" Jack asked, looking at the door again, judging the distance between the hinges.

"Hey," Daniel said, suddenly a lot more clear. "How come when you got stuck in a time loop, you got to do fun stuff, but when I'm in one, I just die?"

"Well, it wasn't all fun," Jack protested. "Not all of us are linguists on purpose."

"But did you die?" Daniel asked, throwing open the door. 

"Ok, I'll give you that one," Jack said. "So, timeloop, huh? Not as fun as the movies make it seem, is it?"

Daniel shook his head, "I don't think the movies make it look very fun. Also, no! Because I keep dying."

"Have we tried--"

"The Asgard, the Nox, the Tollan, the Tok'ra, and Oma," Daniel ticked off the list. "None of them ever manage to fix it."

"I was just going to ask if you'd talked to Dr. Frasier about it but uh. Seems like you have that covered."

Daniel gave a tight, frustrated smile. "So you guys have fun on your trip to P3X-713, take a chicken with you, and let me go back to bed."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Take a chicken? Like a live one? Or like you're being?"

Daniel threw a book at him.  Jack almost managed to catch it.  He glanced at the thick book lying on the landing, frowning at the dust it left on his jacket. "Daniel, was that book loadbearing?"

The bookshelf collapsed on them both in answer.

The next time, Daniel didn't get out of bed at all.

[hedgiwithapen]

Leverage Redemption:

Harry and his redemption list

Harry Wilson wasn't completely useless with technology, despite what his daughter joked. He loved a good mobile game, he was always up on his email--which would have been a real game changer for the industry if not for the fact that he really wasn't that old, seriously, enough with the jokes, email'd been around for most of his career. He seriously did not miss pagers, though there was something satisfying about a flip phone. He knew what a Pokemon was, he could theoretically post a tweet, and he frequented several tumblr blogs that posted kitten videos and interesting art. He was by no means a technophobe. 

But he appreciated paper. There was something about writing by hand on good quality paper, with a fountain pen, or at least a Pilot G-2 gel pen, black ink, instead of some chicken-scratch cheap ballpoint, or worse, typing and printing out. Something about writing by hand made things real. 

That was sort of the problem, he thought, sitting at his desk with the ink spreading out on the paper. Bleeding, it was called. It felt like blood. It wasn't that they weren't real to him, all his clients, all his cases. All the victims he'd helped to bulldoze. They had always been real. That just hadn't mattered.

He wrote the first name. Cole. The second. Mateo.  The ink bled over the paper and his hands as he wrote down years of names.

In the morning, he can use the resources Leverage has to offer. He can see who he can find. He can see who he can try to help, even if he can't fix it entirely. He can see what was left in the wake after the gavel came down. 

Tonight, though, Harry sat at his desk and wrote his list, hating every time he had to consult a file because the name wouldn't come to his memory. That might be the worst crime of all, the not remembering. But who could he blame for that but himself? He chose it all. That mattered. And, he thought with some guilt, he chooses this now. Which choice outweighs the other?  

Every name is a brick in the road to redemption. It's going to be a long walk. 

[hedgiwithapen]

DHD: ALRIGHT, TIME TO DELIVER ON THAT "ELLIOT WAS BRIEFLY PART OF THE STARGATE PROGRAM" WORD OF GOD CANON!

Hardison would have been impressed if he’d had room for that particular emotion, which he often did. As it was, he had room for the ever conflicting “we’re gonna die” fear and “Eliot’s gonna save us” reassurance, the latter  of which normally won, which left room for being impressed. Currently, though, any space for that was filled with pain, which he hadn’t even been aware was an emotion.  The guy holding Parker with inhuman grip strength had some kind of hand-mounted… light… ray gun… thing, and it was both cool as hell and hurt like it, too, which outweighed the coolness factor. Hardison tasted blood, rolling up to one knee with absolutely all of his bones protesting. “I told you,” he panted. “We don’t know--” “Then you will die,” the voice that tore from their captor’s throat was all wrong, like it’d been run through a pitch adjuster set to ‘scary-ass-monster-man.’ “Nah,” Eliot swung around the corner, one hand braced on the door frame. The other held some kind of snake-themed horror movie prop, which would not have been reassuring in the hands of anyone but their boyfriend. Well, until it fired. The guy dropped Parker, writhing on the ground the way Hardison had been moments ago. Eliot pressed whatever trigger again, and the blue-purple lightning crawling over the guy intensified, even as he stopped moving.  A third shot and…

“Wow, you vaporized that guy.” Parker said, rubbing her neck where the man had held her. “Cool.” “Are you ok?” Eliot asked them both, his intensity ratcheting higher, Hardison noticed. “Aside from that guy trying to kill us, yeah,” Hardison said, looking pointedly at the place the body had been. “Uh. Are you? Ok? Because, I mean I know, we don’t pry or nothing but I thought, you know, you had a pretty solid Batman thing going on and uh…” “Trust me,” Eliot said gruffly. “That was mercy.” “Ok, ok, cool, uh, wanna run that back and maybe fill us in a little bit on that… ray gun thing you got there?” “It’s a Zat gun,” Eliot said. “Not a ray gun.” he ran a hand over his sweaty face. “ shit. This isn’t good.” “Move now, talk later?” Parker pointed out. “I mean. No body but still? Unless you’ve both completely forgotten how to be criminals?” “Yeah, we need to get to the Cheyenne Mountains,” Eliot said, looking at Hardison. “I’ll conjure plane tickets as soon as you tell me the hell is going on.” “Remember that conspiracy board?” “From the Hunter job?” Hardison asked. “Yeah. good prop. How much am I gonna not like asking why?” “A lot,” Eliot said. “So this guy tried to kill us and you got a …Zap gun--” “Zat. With a T.” “S’what I said, so you got one of those because of… one of those things? Which one? Moon landing?” “Nah, that was real.” “It better not be that racist secret hyperborea beyond the ice caps bullshit.” “Nah,” Eliot said again. “It’s the Pyramids.” “Oh, really,” Hardison said. “ had you not just saved my life I would be scolding you, like it is the twenty-first century man, the Egyptians were really good at--” “They sure were. That’s why the Aliens took them.” Eliot interrupted. “Hardison, how much have you learned about the SGC?” “The boring Air Force branch that doesn’t do anything except waste taxpayer money?” “Try the Air Force branch that’s the only reason this planet didn’t get blown up in ‘98. And ‘99. And--” “Oooh,” Parker shook out her arms. “What are we stealing?” “Nothing! Yet. “ Eliot amended his statement swiftly. “Look, if there was a goa’uld here, that’s a really really bad sign.” “Oh, it’ll be like DC again,” Parker nodded. “It’ll be a whole lot worse.” “That guy was an alien?” Hardison asked. “Yeah. It’s a very distinctive vocal pattern, ok? Tickets.” “Calm down, I got them. Got us a car, too. We need fake IDs or you got this?” “They know me,” Eliot confirmed. “Or at least, they better.” He glanced up, and Hardison peered at the cloudless sky with him, half expecting to see it full of spaceships and fire.  The perfect blue seemed too good to be true.

[hedgiwithapen]

dhd prompt: eliot leverage and jacob librarians are dopplegangers. somehow they swap places, causing much confusion and hilarity.

(liberties were taken with the prompt) “We really think this Agrinext company’s using magic that’s killing bees? And that’s our priority?” Eve asked. Jenkins gave her a dour look from behind the Clippingsbook.

“Unless you’d rather deal with the doppelganger infestation, yes, Colonel, the company killing bees with a loose magical artifact--or worse-- is the priority.”

Cassandra opened her mouth. Eve winced, knowing she was about to get a patented Cassie Lecture about the interconnectedness of all  creatures, etc etc, and cut it off at the pass. “Right. Bees. Okay, then. Fire up the back door."

~

They split up. They always did; Eve had decided it was inevitable and tried not to fight fate quite so hard on that particular matter.  Jones headed for the server rooms, Cassandra was going to the research and Development area to scan the various chemical compounds with her mind, or...however exactly it was she figured things out. Eve was still a little afraid that if she asked for clarification, she'd get an explanation that would (possibly literally) explode her brain. Stone was supposed to be on distraction, with her. 

And he was. Standing with a dark haired woman and speaking to a receptionist. Looking a lot like he was Flirting with the receptionist.  Eve moved towards him to scold him for wasting valuable time when she spotted...what was Flynn doing here?

"Flynn!" she called, locking eyes with him. Flynn scurried over. 

"Hello!" he said, beaming right into her face. "That's me, Flynn."

Eve took a step back. He wasn't standing right. " Who are you?" she demanded.

"I'm... Flynn." He paused. "Ryder? My associates are--"

"Oh, god," she grumbled. "You don't know me."

"I'm sorry," Flynn said. "I... hit my head recently..."

Eve got on the coms. "Gang, circle back. Whatever this artifact is, it's done something to Flynn."

"Since when is Flynn even here?" Ezekiel whined. "Fine, I'm coming."

The con had been going very smoothly. Of course, when a con was going very smoothly was about the point where suddenly it went very smoothly right off the rails, and into a trash can, which was usually on fire. At least this time, Hardison thought, no one was throwing him into a pool. 

Of course, getting caught breaking into the CEO's office was still bad, especially with a company like Agrinext.  Two armed goons--and it was a seed company! Why did they have goons! It was worse than Wakefield!-- blocked both of his exits, and Hardison was not feeling too great about his ability to jump through a window without breaking all of his bones. 

"Put the hard drive down," one of the goons said. "Slowly."  

Hardison was moving to do exactly that, not taking any chances with the gun pointed at him, when he spotted a familiar face over Goon number 2's shoulder, and breathed a sigh of relief. " It's about time you got here to save my ass," he said. 

Eliot actually froze in place for a second before Goon 2 turned the gun on him and he threw himself at the fight. Hardison ducked back while Eliot took out the two guards.

"Lil sloppy," Hardison said to his panting boy friend. "I like the new moves though. Some Wuxia in there. Don't tell me you've been watching without me and Parker."  When Eliot frowned, Hardison took another step back. He may have mocked his boyfriend being able to tell a violist from a cellist based only on finger calluses and vibes, but  some things really were Distinctive, and this guy--this guy wearing Eliot's face--was not Eliot. "What in the hell kinda mirrorverse did you pop through?" he asked.

"I didn't. Why are you breaking into the CEO's office?"

"I," Hardison said, "Am trying to save the bees." he paused. " And also, you know. Take down a corrupt executive who was profiting off colony collapse caused by weird pesticides."

"It's not the pesticides," not-Eliot said. "It's the stelea of Ah Muzen Cab."

"The what of the who now?" Hardison asked.

"Mayan god of many, many things, including bees."

"Uh-huh." Hardison said. " Kay. You look like my boyfriend and you're acting  a little crazy so I am just gonna take this and... go. Thanks for the punching."

~~

Ezekiel leaned closer to the hidden door in the server room, listening for the latch mechanism as he poked and prodded. He closed his eyes, steadying his heartbeat. One--two... should be three more pins, and--

"Boo!" a voice hissed in his ear as someone dropped from the ceiling to land next to him.

He turned, ready to smack whoever it was with the nearest weapon--which would have been his phone-- but stopped when he saw the blonde hair and the maniac brightness in her eyes.

"Parker?" he asked.

"Zekie!" she beamed. "Look at you! All grown up and cracking safes! You've almost got that one."

"I do have this one," he said, flatly. "I'm the world's greatest thief."

She booped his nose, just like when they'd been kids in the same foster home. "Second greatest, maybe. How's the gig?"

"It's pretty good," he said. "I have a good team. Yours?"

"Solid. Two newbies need some work, but they're getting it. Reminds me of teaching you."

"Excuse me? I already knew how to crack a safe when we met."

"And yet you couldn't tell I'd already gotten into that one. Sad." Parker smiled again.

"You already stole the artifact?" Ezekiel asked. " Parker, I need that."

"Then you should have beaten me to it. It's gotta be worth a lot, to be kept so secret, and if the company's smuggling ... Guatemalan?-- antiquities, we can use that for blackmail."

"It's not an antiquity," Ezekiel said. "It's dangerous." He  pressed his lips together. Eve would say not to tell anyone, Jenkins would rail about the importance of secrets. But Parker was like a sister--and she's helped him out from under MI6's thumb. "It's magic," he said, waiting for her to laugh. 

"Oh," Parker said. "Neat. Hmmm... I'll trade you for it, then." 

"Fine, Ezekiel said. "What do you want for it?" He had plenty of stolen--borrowed--sparklies, plus one of her pokemon cards from when they were kids...

"I heard a rumor you nabbed the dagger of Aquabi," Parker beamed, handing over the tablet she'd swiped. "Give it."

Ezekiel made a face. "Fine. Usual drop off, tomorrow."

"Good to see you, little brother," Parker said, and dove for the airvents as an alarm started to wail.  Ezekiel grumbled again, heading for his own exit.

~

"Stone? There you are." Eliot turned. Stone was a name he'd used a few times, but not today. 

"Sorry," he said, turning on the charm as the redhead beamed at him. "I think you have me confused with someone else."

"That's... not right," she said. "You look...." and then she started muttering under her breath, fingers flickering in front of her like she was shifting through information. It reminded him a little of Parker, and a little of Hardison. "Just like him but you're not him. I'm sorry. My bad."

"That's alright. You know, they say we've all got seven doubles."

"They do," she said, oddly flat. Eliot turned to look where she was looking, and froze.

He wondered, a time or two, or three, if he was being honest, what he'd do if ever he saw his own face on someone else.  It hadn't been that litteral, as a kid, which was the last time he'd thought about it. What he'd do if he recognized the mirror of his smile, his eyes, the crease above his brow when he frowned. He'd looked for it in older people, not his age. Someone old enough to be the person who'd left him.

This man looked like he could have been left in the basket beside him. 

"who are you?" they both asked in the same voice, at the same time, before an alarm started to blare.

Well. Eliot had carried questions as long as he'd known the difference between knowing and not.  He could carry them longer. Getting his people out mattered more. 

~

"Jenkins," Eve said, back in the Annex. "What were you saying earlier, before we left? About clones?"

"Doppelgangers, actually," Jenkins said. "Why?"

"Because I found one of Flynn," Eve said, holding up a bewildered look-alike.

Jenkins frowned. " That's impossible. I fixed the issue moments after you left, it was really quite simple."

"Then someone kidnapped Flynn and stole his memories!" Eve said. 

"That's news to me," Flynn  said, leaning over the raining from the stacks. " Hi Eve! Who's that?"

"Oh my god," Eve said again, as reality--actual reality-- sunk in. "I just kidnapped a civilian." 

"If it helps I don't think I'm technically a civilian. Harry Wilson, lawyer and, uh... you know lets just stick with lawyer, actually. Uh. not the suing you kind, though. I just...really should get going? maybe? If I can... just..." he wiggled out from under Eve's hand. 

Above, Flynn hooted with laughter. 

[hedgiwithapen]

Leverage: the trampoline job

(Sometimes the titles of these jobs is literal, and sometimes it’s a metaphor… this is the latter. AU of the Big Bang Job!) “There’s just one problem,” Moreau said, the tip of his polished shoe pressed against Hardison’s chair. “I don’t believe you.”

He kicked, sending the chair backwards into the pool with a splash. Eliot kept his face blank, a grift to make even Sophie proud.

“Eliot, you really think I’m that stupid? That I didn’t look for you after you ran?” Moreau chided. “In Serbia two years ago, at that orphanage…Moscow last fall. So I may not know exactly the game you’re playing, but I know you’re no middleman.”

Eliot’s throat tightened. This was why he’d brought Hardison, not Sophie. His plans burned, one after another till he got to L. 

“That’s Alec Hardison,” he said. “And if you’ve ever believed anything I’ve told you, believe that you want him alive.”

He jumped into the water, hoping the intrigue would be enough to stay Chapman’s trigger finger and still expecting a bullet in his back. 

Hardison was sputtering when he got him above water, choking on the chlorine. Eliot dragged him to the side of the pool, using the ladder for leverage to boost Hardison and the chair both out before clambering up himself, keeping in front of his friend. 

"I'm listening," Moreau said. "walk me through why, exactly, I shouldn't let my man here kill you both."

"Eliot," Hardison warned.  Eliot ignored him.

"If you know what I've been up to, you know who he is." He kept his voice even. An act, but one he'd perfected. 

"A hacker," Moreau dismissed. "But one you'd die for."

"Not just a hacker," Eliot said, ignoring the back half of the statement and hating how easily Moreau read it. "The best."

He could feel Hardison behind him, pride and confusion at war. He pressed on. 

"Vector's out, and he was never much of a player. Keller's gone.  They can't hide your money, can't move it either. Hardison can move it like a kid moves checkers on a board. Not a chance anyone catches on, if he's working for you.  You won't have to pay out in bribes, either.  You want him."

"And He came here looking for a job?" Moreau asked. "I find that hard to believe, too."

"He'll do it." Eliot said. The bitter sharpness in his voice isn't all for show. "He's a geek. Half of what he cares about is proving he can do it. The other half is staying alive. He's not stupid. He knows what you can do."

"Yeah, I'm learning all kinds of new things today, traitor," Hardison spit. 

Eliot took the barb like the blow it was.

"Well. Color me intrigued, then." Moreau's smile curdled Eliot's blood, but there wasn't anything for it.  This was why he brought Hardison.

There was always a chance things broke down, and Hardison was the one he could keep alive. Chapman grabbed the back of the chair, dragging it and Hardison through the door the models went through. “Let’s chat logistics,” Moreau said. Eliot eased his heart rate, trying not to picture the look on Hardison’s face. Fury and… god. Heartbreak. There wasn’t another word for it. “Let’s,” he agreed, like it was the easiest thing in the world to say, and not poison in his mouth. 

The team always recovered, bounced back, like Parker on a trampoline. They figured out a new plan, a new trick, something last-ditch and crazy. They'll manage it. Hardison's the one they can get back. 

[hedgiwithapen]

Leverage let's go steal a beetle

Eliot Spencer really, really hated it when the con had to change gears halfway through. Made things messy and complicated and it was never good for anyone but Sophie to try playing two parts. But he adjusted his stupid little hat and hoisted himself up into the pilot's seat of the Helicopter.

"Hey." said the man already in the copilot's chair. "You're not Johnson."

"No," Eliot said. "He got sick. Celiac flare up, I think. Trust me, you do not want him flying one of these things." That was one way of putting it, anyways. Beaten over the head with a stale baguette was a little more accurate but hey, who was really counting.

"And you're...authorized?" The copilot asked, looking doubtful. 

"Am I--I got called in on my night off because she's got something that has to happen tonight. I mean, If you want, I can just go, and you can explain to Ms. Kord why her chopper's grounded for the night.  I had dinner reservations, man."

"No!" the copilot said frantically, no doubt thinking about the fate of anyone who disappointed Victoria Kord. Eliot had a feeling her idea of a severance package was a little something like the Hannity lady back at Wakefield's.  

"Alright then," Eliot said, settling in. Damn. It was a sweet helicopter. Shame he wasn't going to get to keep it.

~

Jaime felt more like he was falling, not flying, gravity dragging him towards his home. He could hear Khaji Da in his ear, feeding him information about the helicopter, the dozens of Kord Industry's private army foot soldiers surrounding the house, all armed to the teeth. Well, so was he, with anything he could imagine. 

He spun in the air, aiming the world's largest staple gun, dodging the live rounds they were firing at him.

Somehow that made this more real than the fight earlier. It was one thing to be fighting for his life running from the Kord building, all that glass and chrome and unreal wealth. Not here, above the rooftops and powerlines he'd known all his life. 

"Stand down. Give me back my Scarab." He heard Jenny's Aunt--and when had that become who she was, in his head?--say over some kind of loudspeaker. Half the neighborhood must have heard it, and the gunshots, but no sirens wailed.

"The Scarab's not yours," he said, unsure if she could hear him. He aimed at the Helicopter to be sure she understood. It dipped just enough that he missed. He could tell from Khaji's delight that this--deflecting bullets, firing back--was something they could do all night if they needed to.

"Target the family," came the next order. Jaime's blood ran cold.

He dove forward, but not in time. 

The house he'd grown up in exploded.

"No!" he screamed, mentally directing everything into the thrusters. He had time, he had---

Khaji Da stopped him, feet above the flames.

|You will die. I cannot allow you to go in|

"They're in there!" Jaime yelled back. "I can--I can still-- I have to save them!"

|No lifesigns are detected| Khaji Da responded. |I am sorry, Jaime Reyes.|

Jaime didn't have the chance to scream again as a flare of purple lightning lashed out, some kind of net or grapple or bolas that burned and stung and dragged him from the sky.

The last thing he saw was his home in flames, the roof caving in.

~

(approximately ten minutes earlier)

Parker dropped through the hole in the roof, swinging herself so she landed on the worn and patched linoleum instead of directly on the table. 

The older woman, who had the vibes of Hardison's Nana if she was Eliot, which was frankly a terrifying thought, threw a sandal at her head. Parker caught it easily. "Everybody out," she said, the Spanish falling easily from her lips and apparently throwing everyone else for a loop. The two men stared at her. The Nana threw another sandal. Parker ducked under that one.

Parker huffed a little. "Kord's people are coming to kill you all," she said, not bothering to beat around the bush. " Or worse? Not super clear on that. So. Everybody out, come on."

"Why should we trust you, blondie?" one of the men asked.

"Where's Jaime?" the girl about Breanna's age demanded. 

"Because I'm the good guy, and I don't know, but if we stick around here we will continue to not know. It's not safe here, can we go?" Parker pushed.

"You expect us to trust you? You broke into our house!"

"You left a hole in the roof, that's practically an invitation." Parker reached up and tapped her com. "Eliot? ETA? Someone give me something, they won't leave." 

"Seven minutes," Eliot said. "Get them out."

Breanna chattered breathlessly in the other ear. 

Parker turned off the com. "GarlicBre52 says you can trust me. I'm the Cavalry. Good enough?"

"Garlic sent you?" the more paranoid man said, looking suddenly like he might actually believe her. "How'd they know about any--"

"Look, you can talk to her yourself, after we go, because in about 5 and a half minutes, this place is going to be on fire and we need to not be here when it is." Parker was getting impatient. 

"Everyone, go," Nana Sandals said, and everyone obeyed, following Parker out the back door, and along a hedge to the next street over. Parker heaved open the food truck door. 

"What about my son?" the man who wasn't staring with outright glee at all the tech said. "What did you do--"

"Hey, we didn't do anything," Breanna said. "Parker, you told them we're here to help, right?"

"Of course I did!"

"Then where is Jaime?"

"Uhhh," Breanna said, fingers flying over her keyboard. " About a minute out. Don't worry, Eliot's going to get him."

"Eliot," Nana repeated. 

"Yeah, Breanna said. She spun in her chair. "Hey, Rudy."

"You know this girl?" Nana asked. Rudy frowned. 

"How do you know my name?" he said. "Garlic, I take it?"

"Eh, Really good facial recognition. I'm Breanna. Thanks for that tip last month, by the way-- the cobalt instead of tungsten? Really worked great."

Rudy gave a modest tip of one shoulder. "Yeah, Ma, I know her. From online."

"Uncle Rudy, you didn't tell me your government conspiracy hacker friends were cute girls. I'm Milli, by the way."

"Flirting later," the woman who had to be Milli's mom said. "Someone explain what's going on. Please."

Breanna made a face. "Uh. Long story very very short, Kord Industries wants something your son has, and we really don't want them to have it, and they want it bad enough to, uh. Kill you? So we're faking your deaths, if that's cool. I mean. Also if that's not cool? But like. Just until we take them down so like. Three days tops."

"And someone named Eliot is finding Jaime?"

"Should be, right about--" everything shook "--now."

~~

Eliot thumbed the buttons and switches on the control panel, giving a glance back. The poor kid was semi-conscious, dragged into the back of the helicopter at Victoria's feet. He swallowed bile. 

"Set a course for the island," Victoria ordered. 

Eliot glanced at the densely packed neighborhood below, lit up behind them with the orange of flame and the dancing lights of firetrucks. "Yes Ma'am," he said, and turned towards the water.  Carefully, casually, he released his seatbelt and harness, stretching his legs just a little.

"You're going too far west," Victoria snapped. "Johnson, get it together, unless you want to be fired."

"Mm." Eliot said. "That threat would work a lot better if I worked for you." He veered sharply, slamming everyone to the side as he snapped off the toggles and jammed the steering, then threw himself into the back.

Eliot thanked God and Hardison for the latter's parachute stash. 

"Hope you can swim, kid," he said,  pushing off hard with Jaime Reyes in hand as the helicopter spun wildly towards the water.

~~

Jaime choked, sputtering wildly and trying to yank away from the iron grip around his waist. He remembered the helicopter--being grabbed--the house--his family--

"Calm yourself, Jaime," Khaji Da said, but that was easier said then done.

"Let me go! Let go," Jaime thrashed, sinking deeper before popping back up above the water.

"Easy, kid. You good to swim?"  The grip didn't release. Jaime twisted, trying to get a hand under the man's throat.  Khaji could make anything he imagined, and he could imagine a lot of ways to hurt the people who'd--who'd killed---

"Hey." the man said, kicking them both closer to shore. "Don't do that, man. It's ok. We got them out."

Jaime blinked, salt water stinging his eyes and burning his nose as he tried to parse the threat.

|The Eliot Spencer is not lying| Khaji Da said. |Recent data suggests his connection to the fall of multiple criminal organizations. Recommended course of action: hear him out.| 

That was just unexpected enough for Jaime to listen.

"See that food truck parked on the beach?" Eliot Spencer asked. "That's them.  So don't just go haring off or try to gut me, ok? Can you swim?"

"Yeah, I--" he sputtered again on a too-large wave. "If you hurt them--Khaji--"

|Food Truck: Brick and Basil, contains several life-signatures that match the Reyes household, with additional signatures. No one is currently experiencing physical distress.|

The beach rose to meet them, the sand cool and soft under Jaime's bare feet. Eliot Spencer let out a piercing whistle, and the side of the truck swung open. Jaime sagged in relief as Khaji pointed out the silhouette of his sister, unharmed.

[hedgiwithapen]

DAMMIT HEDGI DAY 2024!

Prompts are now OPEN

What is Dammit Hedgi Day?

Dammit Hedgi Day, the 25th of September, marks the 9th anniversary of the first "Dammit Hedgi" tag on one of my angst fics. Every September I accept [angsty, typically] prompts for three weeks, and then post a massive amount of oneshots and ficlets. Prompt fills range from 200-2000 words, and as the Poll dictates, will start being posted on September 25th

What Fandoms can be prompted for?

Dammit Hedgi Day started with the Flash and DCTV, but has grown! Previous years have seen ficlets for: The Flash (up to mid season 6? I make no promises after that) Supergirl (season 1) Legends of tomorrow (first 2 seasons) Stargirl (all three seasons) Leverage+ Leverage Redemption Blue Beetle (2023) Into the Spiderverse (ish) My Adventures With Superman Young Justice Big Hero 6 Avatar the Last Airbender The Librarians Books of Bayern and assorted original RPG character content That said, I'm not strictly limited to these! I've started watching Stargate SG1, and will accept prompts based on that UP TO MID SEASON 4. Do NOT ask me about things beyond the end of s4, I'm trying to be unspoiled. If you've seen me talk positively about a media, you can ask for it, essentially. I may not fill everything, but I'll try.

What kinds of prompts?

Originally an ANGST fest, it can get a bit more broad especially in recent years. Ideally: send me a fandom/ two characters and a line of dialog like one from a promptlist below OR fandom/ characters and a vague concept-- "Sokka in a time loop" is vague! "Leverage, Daemon au for the Big Bang job" is vague. "Stargirl, Rick and Cindy: "I'm never going to trust you" " is vague. Two full paragraphs that detail who says the line and everyone's feelings on the matter and the outcome is not vague. If you're not sure if something is too detailed, you can always send it in and see, though. Crossovers welcome. DHD is a smut-free zone, and it’s my day so  I will write about characters with my viewpoints so prompt with caution if you like a character I do not :)  You may attempt to rig your prompts for fluff but do not count on it. Do not expect shipping, this is a genfic event. A few ships may slip through at my discretion, y'all know who I Like. You can send me a couple characters and an angst prompt from a list like  this one or This one,  Or this ….or  if there’s a whump post out there that grabs at you, you can use that. If we've talked about an AU, you can prompt that! If I've made a post like " hey neat concept for [show]:...." you can ask for some of that! If there was a prompt from past years you liked and want More Of? (roundups for 2020 , 2021, 2022, 2023) hell yeah! Canon suffering!! Aus make everything worse!! Missing moments, what-ifs, alternate perspectives! As always, everything will be tagged with Dammit Hedgi Day and Dammit Hedgi Day 2024 for blocking the tag purposes.

[hedgiwithapen]

suki has conversation with kyoshi via aang and they talk about leadership

(Guess who just read the Rise of Kyoshi novel? me! uh. expectational spoilers for a character death)

"Avatar, I come seeking speech with you." Aang is startled to hear Suki speaking so formally. None of his friends ever seemed to, excepting Toph at her most sarcastic, unless there was a large audience that required careful scripting. But they are alone.

"Sure, what's up?" he asks, before noting that she's also dressed formally. Suki's in full face paint and her silks, every button of her arm wraps polished to gleaming, every strand of hair woven neatly into her headdress. The white band, three fingers wide, tied around her upper arm stands out starkly.

"Not you, Aang," Suki says quietly. "Please?"

"Ah," Aang sits, settling his posture smoothly. It's a familiar position: spine straight, the lines of his blue arrow tattoos meeting seamlessly where his hands touch. "It may take some time." He can call his past lives up easily enough these days, but it's harder to channel them for others to see.

"That's ok," the Warrior says, sinking into her own stance. They breathe.

The light out the window has faded some when a hand reaches across and touches Suki's face. She opens her eyes, and sees the familiar face, one she has seen in effigy her entire life.

"Sworn sister," Kyoshi says, and waits.

"Avatar Kyoshi," Suki says, not moving. She should bow, but can't. Not with the hand under her chin. "I come before you seeking guidance."

Kyoshi meets her eyes, looking down from her height. "You have lost one of your sisters." It is not a question. Suki reaches for the armband, a subtle symbol of mourning.

"Yes," she says hoarsely. "It was my fault. I--The war is over. She should have been safe."

"Do you think that the Fire Nation's war is the spawn of all evil?" Kyoshi asks. "That there was none before?"

"No," Suki answers, knitting her brows. "Of course not. We all know of your efforts to root out corruption. How you saved our people from Chin the conqueror."

"Then you know that evil does not know the borders of nations. It does not know the boundaries of war and peace. There is no 'should have been.' It has always existed and always will."

Suki swallows. "I failed her."

"Do you wish me to strip you of your place as leader for this?" Kyoshi asks. "Or admonish you to die before it happens again? I can do neither. You are not the first to fail a friend. To hope that with an enemy beaten, no more pain might come."

"You would have been able to save her," Suki says.

"Perhaps." Kyoshi's perfectly impassive makeup cannot hide the shadow in her eyes. "I cannot stop the guilt you feel any more than I can stop the tides. Nor would I. Let it guide your actions, but do not let it drown you. Allow me to share in it. You have heard of me, but not every story. I will tell you of one. Keep it in your heart. It is a hard lesson to learn, that some things happen despite victory, despite strength."

"Avatar?" Suki asks.

"Call me Kyoshi, sister. Let me tell you of our brother, Lek."

[hedgiwithapen]

DHD: Stargate coordinates lead to [DC Comics-based dimension of your choice]

(as per messages, they are going somewhere not DC....)

The Malp showed that P-zero-K-EEE had a breathable atmosphere, decently variable temperature within acceptable range for visiting, and spectacular stone ruins. None of it looked familiar to Teal'c

"Should be fun," Jack said, putting an extra tissue packet in his pocket for Daniel. Even with the allergy medications, the poor guy could really sneeze up a storm after gate travel. 

"I can't wait to get a closer look at some of those fallen statues. They could give us an idea of what, if any, goa'uld have been there, but also so much about the civilization that existed there... If they had stoneworking technology long enough ago that--"

"Save it for after we get planetside and you actually see these rocks," Jack advised. 

The trip through the Stargate was a jolt, as always. Only it usually took mere moments, and ended with the team on solid, or solid enough, footing. 

This time, the journey continued as everyone plunged from the sky.

"Brace," Sam called a moment before they hit the sand.  

Teal'c rolled up onto an elbow. "Hm."

"Hm?" Jack groaned, sitting up himself. "That's all you got? Is hm?"

"A fall like that should have killed us." Teal'c replied. "I am uncertain as to why it didn't."

"Oh, look." Sam pointed  skyward. A massive dark spiral hung over the top of a mountain, spitting bits of lightning. "That thing must have interfered with the Stargate."

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"Well, sir, if I knew, I wouldn't have called it 'that thing', now would I?"

"She's got a point," Daniel pointed out, sneezing sand out of his nose. "No sign of the Stargate or Dial Home Device, but obvious signs of civilization..." he gestured to the dock, a single moored rowboat and shack, and in the distance, a bit of smoke over the trees and hills. "Probably a town..."

"Hello!" called a voice. A man in a white coat and purple hat ran down what had to be a path towards them, panting. "Are you alright? I saw you fall from the sky."

"We did do that." Teal'c said. 

"Are you all alright?" the man asked.

"Peachy," Jack said.

"I'm Dr. Daniel Jackson," Daniel intervened. "Sorry, could you tell us where we are? And if you've seen a Stargate--that is, a big--"

The man cut him off with an answer. "You're on Prelude Beach, of course. My, you are an odd bunch. Such unusual clothing!"

"Sure," Sam agreed. "Now, about the Stargate...?"

"Stargate," the man repeated. "I can't say that I've ever heard of that. Stars...Celestial...  oh! Do you mean the Celestica ruins?"

"Yes!" Daniel grabbed on. "Could you take us there?"

"First, could you tell us your name?" Jack said, pointedly.

"I'm Professor Laventon. And...I would, but I'm quite busy with my own research right now. Speaking of-- oh, dear." He looked around, as if trying to spot something. 

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Three of the pokemon I was studying seem to have eluded me. Again. Would you mind helping me gather them?"

Jack coughed. Everyone turned to glance at him, sidelong. 

"I'm sorry," he said. "Pokemon? Like... Pikachu?"

"I haven't managed to catch a pikachu for my studies yet," the professor said, a little down cast.

"What is a pokemon, and how is it that you know of them,  Colonel O’Neill?" Teal'c asked.

"I don't," Jack said, his voice tight. 

"Oh, they're the little... creature...things." Sam said, frowning. "I think they were on a box of poptarts Cassandra had last time I babysat."

The professor beamed. "They are fascinating creatures, indeed! I do not know what a pop tart is. I'm after three of them, but I'm simply... not as skilled at this as I'd like to be. my hand-eye coordination....eh." he wiggled a hand. "Would any of you assist me? I'm sure I can convince the commander to give us an escort to the Coronet Highlands and the ruins if you help with the pokedex project..."

"Pokedex?" Daniel asked. 

"Yes! a collection of studies and notes on the habits and abilities of all kinds of pokemon to be found in Hisui! I have some, of course, already, but it's not proving to be a very easy task. I was studying a rowlet, cyndaquil, and oshawott, but.."

Teal'c surveyed the grassy field to the right. "Do you mean the creature that appears to be an owl, made spherical?"

"Yes! That's rowlet. Oh, could you catch her for me?"

Teal'c rolled up his sleeves.

"Oh for cryin' out loud, with a pokeball," Jack said. 

"A what, sir?" Sam asked. 

"The thing that guy's got--sorry, professor Laverton, was it? The--thing--" 

"Laventon," the professor said offering Teal'c a small reddish orb. "It's a new invention. You simply throw it at the pokemon and--well, something happens. They appear to shrink down and sit comfortably inside!"

He passed out the remaining orbs. 

"So we catch these three, uh, pokemon," Daniel clarified, "and then you take us to the Ruins?"

"After we talked to the head of the survey corps. And probably some lunch. And I can secure housing for you! the village really could use more--"

"Oh, we're not staying long," Jack said.

"I have caught the rowlet," Teal'c announced. Not to be out done, Sam searched for one of the other creatures, a shrew looking creature that somehow produced fire from its back and caught it. 

"Amazing," she said, opening the pokeball to look at the creature. "How does it do that?"

"That, my dear, is exactly what I'm trying to figure out," the Professor said, clapping Daniel on the shoulder when he managed to drop a pokeball directly on the clown-otter-thing's head. "This way to the village, come with me.”

"Oh," Jack said. "We are staying long. Great."

(note: using the show’s timeline place the events of the movie in the year 1996, which makes it theoretically, technically  possible for Jack’s dead son to have been interested in pokemon right when it started to be a thing)

[hedgiwithapen]

Hakoka learns how Zuko got his scar (am I having feels about yet another parallel in this show? why yes I am)

Somehow, the house on the edge of the Earth Kingdom that they’ve all hunkered down in for the last week while salvage and transport are arranged is more tense with the war ended. Zuko can’t begin to understand why. Sleeping in real beds--soft ones, with feather mattresses and blankets that don't stink of sweat and smoke-- and having a real kitchen to work with, the looming threat of the end of the world off their shoulders should put everyone more at ease. 

Hakoda sits at the table, his chopsticks gathering up the last of his fish and rice, and smiles at his children who sit opposite him. "I am so proud of you," he says, and Zuko's heart clenches with jealousy he's sworn to never voice. 

It's a scene from the ending of a play, peace and harmony restored in the wider world paralleled in a family unified, Zuko thinks.

Instead of a curtain closing, though, Katara throws her bowl, still half filled, at her father's head and leaves at a run.

Wordlessly, Sokka takes off after her, and Aang looks torn, mumbling something about checking on Appa.

Hakoda looks at Zuko, and winces. Zuko's hand goes for a sword he isn't wearing before he reminds himself that Katara's a powerful bender. She can win. She doesn't need him coming to her defense. Diplomacy's always worth a shot, though.

"She's just exhausted," he says, hoping that from him, it won't seem like a weak excuse. 

Hakoda tilts his head, matching the way Zuko has to tilt his to get a clear view, and the corner of his mouth twitches. "It's nothing I don't deserve," he says. "I'm not exactly winning a father of the year award."

The Prince of the--the Fire Lord Presumptive-- does not gape. So Zuko keeps his mouth closed, teeth gritted hard. "Children should still respect their fathers," he says, the lesson fighting past his façade of calm. "Chief Hakoda, how can you say you deserve that?"

The Chief of the Southern Water Tribe  shakes his head. "I abandoned my children when they needed me," he says. "I left Sokka with an impossible task and I left them, in my pride. Now that they're not terrified I'll die before they see me again, they can get that out of their systems. I understand it." He starts to clean the shards of pottery from the table, wincing as a splinter of ceramic sticks his finger. The bead of blood is bright against his weathered skin. 

"You were doing what was best for your people," Zuko says. 

"My children are as much my people as anyone else," Hakoda counters. "How can someone call themselves a leader if their own children can't count on them for protection?"

"You'd be surprised," Zuko says darkly, touching the rough edge of his scar. 

Hakoda looks confused, and Zuko realizes that he doesn't know. The story didn't reach as far as he'd always thought, but still...

"I spoke against my father's general," he says. "Nearly four years ago. This was the understanding he extended to me for my disrespect."

Hakoda drops the pile of shards he's managed to gather. "That's--"

"I don't need your pity," Zuko interrupts. "You should just know you're... better than you give yourself credit for." It feels like Uncle's words, but he says them anyways.

"I see." Hakoda says, thoughtful. "Well, Zuko. I can't say that I agree with you completely. My children don't owe me anything that I don't earn from them first. But I won't say that their situation and yours are... equal." He sits back a little on his cushion, shaking his head. "Perhaps I am father of the year, and what a sad thing that would be."

"They love you," Zuko says, jutting his chin towards the doorway Katara and Sokka fled through. 

"That's all I need," Hakoda says, gathering the dish again. 

[hedgiwithapen]

AtLA prompt for DHD or any time at all: what if Aang had died with all the other airbenders and Katara was the next avatar?

Sokka was only four, but he wasn't stupid, he knew where babies came from. More or less. He knew where they didn't come from, at any rate. A woman went into her igloo, Gran-gran or one of the other women who'd already done this went to help, the lady screamed a lot, and then there was a baby. Babies took a lot of screaming--they needed it so they could scream back. Sound in the South Pole carried, echoing off the water and the ice-cliffs. But the day his mother had come back to the village with a baby, the ice had been quiet.  

"Sokka," she said to him, as his father had helped her from her kayak. "Meet your new baby sister. The spirits gave her to us." Sokka stared at the baby, wrapped up in a blanket lined with furs he couldn't recognize. She was bigger than new-new babies, too, with dark hair in two little braids peaking out of the furlined hood.

"Couldn't the spirits have given me a Petral-Puppy?" he asked, taking the baby anyways. She looked at him with bright blue eyes and gurgled happily.  His mother laughed. His father didn't. 

They left the other member of the fishing expedition to take the nets, only half filled, to the smoking racks, Sokka taking three strides on the packed snow for every one of his father's, glad that his mother had taken the baby back. She'd been heavy. Their house, half ice and half heavy oiled pelts, wasn't the largest in the village, even if Hakoda was the chief, but it was centrally located. As Sokka sat, flopping onto his pallet without grace, his father pulled the doorflap closed, cutting off the light from outside. 

"Kya," he said, his voice pitched low. "What have you done?"

"The spirits lead us to her," she responded. "Both Shamik and I felt drawn, and there she was, in a hollow in the ice. Just left there. What would you have had us do, leave her to freeze?"

"No," Hakoda said, but there was a tightness in his voice that made Sokka pull his feet up close under him. The baby wriggled again, still wrapped up to tight. "But... here? Look at that blanket."

"I saw it," Kya said, firmly. "Western village's pattern, and they were the only ones still trading north for Harp Hare fur. You and I both know who she is."

"Who?" Sokka asked, satisfied when both his parents jumped a little at the reminder he was there. "Who is she?"

"Sokka, why don't you see if your baby boots will fit her?" Kya asked, setting the baby down on his bed. Sokka did some very fast counting. They were going to need another bed. He didn't mind sharing the boots, they were too small now anyways, and would go to the next baby who needed them, but his bed was a different story. 

"Ok," he said anyway, touching the blanket. He'd never seen a harp hare. Gran Gran said they had long ears and round white bodies that pointed into a tail like a Tiger seals'. The fur that lined the blanket was softer than anything he'd ever felt. It came untied easily, unrolling, white and blue.

"Kya," Hakoda said again. "If the Fire Nation learns--."

"They won't," Kya said. "They'll be looking for an adult by this point, not a child. And if their --whoever tells them these things--said the Avatar was born in the Western village... they'll assume she died with the others. It's been so long. The raids are so few these days, they must be focusing on the Earth Kingdom."

"The raids are few because we are few, Kya." Hakoda said softly. "But if the spirits brought her to us, who am I to question?"

Sokka tried squishing one of his boots onto the baby's fat little foot, trying not to hurt her. She kicked him in the nose.

"Ow!"

"Oh no," Kya said, hurrying over. Sokka glared a little. 

"I think I'd rather have a Petral-puppy. Can the spirits take her back?"

"No," Kya said gently. "Sokka, this is very important. You mustn't tell anyone what you heard your father and I talking about. Do you understand?"

"Uh-huh," Sokka said. It was very easy to agree when he hadn't actually been listening. "Ok. I won't tell anyone about Kata."

"Kata?" Kya asked, raising an eyebrow.  Sokka pointed to the writing on the blanket. 

"I can't read all of it," he said, suddenly defensive. Gran Gran said he should learn, but it was hard. 

Kya looked at the blanket and the tiny marks. "Katara. Her name is Katara. She can keep that, at least, can't she?"

Hakoda nodded. "I'll tell the village we have been blessed with a daughter." he said, the traditional words coming easily. "She's not a secret, Sokka. Just... the other thing."

Sokka didn't ask what his father meant by the other thing. He didn't need to. 

~ Sokka was eight winters when the secret freed itself, not like a fish from a net but a whale breaking the surface and crashing down.

The snow drifting down on the village turned gray first, then darker, stinking of--well, Sokka wasn’t sure exactly what. It smelled like the rare driftwood fires lit on the equinoxes, but worse. Those left the same smudges in the snow, soot and ash that never melted away all together.

The village moved, a drill no one had practiced in years tugging feet that only dimly remembered. Sokka saw his father swiping paint under his eyes, gripping  his bone tipped spear in the other hand. It was not a weapon for practices, Sokka knew from the times he’d begged his father to teach him to use it. It was a man’s weapon--a killing weapon.

Sokka pulled his child’s club from where he always wore it on his belt. “Dad?”

“Sokka, go find your sister,” Hakoda said, sharp as cut ice.  “Now. Then hide.”

Sokka saw Bato, the other men of the village arranging themselves along the lip of wall where the ice met water. He saw a gap, right where he would fit.  “But I can help.”

“You can help by staying safe,” his father said.

There wasn’t time to argue.  A red flag hung from the tower on the warship that filled the bay, and the nose of it crashed down, a gangplank and a weapon in one. Sokka ran, his worn boots gripping the ice in ways an outsider’s wouldn’t.

Katara was with Gran Gran and a few of the other elders, a young mother and her fussing newborn.  “Sokka!” she yelped, leaping from the snowbank to grab for his parka sleeve. “ What is it?”

“Fire Nation,” he said, noticing just how visible her dark hair, like his own, stood out against the white ice. “Dad said to hide.”

“Where’s mom?” Katara asked. “I want Mom, and my blanket.”

“I’ll go,” Sokka said. He’d learned early that agreeing with Katara was the only way to handle when she got Stubborn, and they couldn’t afford Stubborn right now. The place everyone was sheltered was near the back of the villager proper, close enough to the kayaks and the inland river, but too far from the homes to reach them quickly, and defenses had already dropped the snow drifts on the ice cliff above and west. It would be safer to go back, but he was so close, and Mom-- she needed to be with everyone else.

He realized too late that Katara was behind him, marking his footprints with her own, and that the fight had moved closer to the heart of the village. Three tents were on fire and  the snow around them had melted into slush. He could hear screaming.

“Mom!” he said, louder than he meant to, yanking aside the flap of heavy oilskin that was their door.

A man stood inside, his metal helmet scraping the poles of the roof.  He didn’t turn, still looking at Kya. “Well?” he asked. “Tell me where the Avatar is, and my warriors will leave the rest of your village in peace, not pieces.”

Sokka stared. No one said the word Avatar in the village. Not since the night they’d brought Katara home. It was meant to be secret.

Kya shook her head. “Not here. Your people destroyed the Avatar’s village decades ago.  He’ll be in the Earth Kingdom.”

“No,” the man said. “He isn’t. I will not warn you again.”

“Mommy?” Katara asked from behind Sokka’s shoulder. The man turned.

“You would doom your children over misplaced faith?” he asked Kya. Sokka watched his mother as her eyes turned hard.

“Not misplaced,” she said, and swung the cookpot, filled with boiling blubber. “Children, run.” The smell of burned meat filled the tent.

Sokka grabbed Katara’s hand, his mitten clumsy around hers and scrambled backwards.

They slipped through the ice, pink with blood, trying to obey. Sokka looked over his shoulder, and tried to stop his cry. Katara didn’t manage to.

“No!” she howled, seeing the murky blood on the man’s drawn sword. Around them, the sound of the waves and the wind went dead, and the sudden quiet made the sounds of fighting echo strangely before pausing as everyone turned to look.

Sokka held an empty mitten.

Katara’s eyes glowed an eerie blue, like an iceberg in full sun.

The village exploded; every chunk of ice, every stone, every bit of flame dancing on cloth or oil, all directed in a deadly wave that flattened almost everything in its wake.  A chip of ice tore past Sokka’s eye, leaving a stinging cut that dripped down his cheek.

His mother’s killer dropped first, an icicle longer than an oar erasing his heart, and every soldier in Fire nation colors fell. The great metal boat submerged halfway, and what remained resembled a twisted hulk, more a melted ice sculpture than an iron warship.

Sokka could have looked at the devastation. Could have looked at the places where the snow was melted with the heat of spilled blood, could have seen the horror and awe at war on his people’s faces.

Instead he took a step, and held his sister as she wept. 

[hedgiwithapen]

DHD: Paralytic drugs for Barry Allen?

For a moment, Barry wonders if he is dead. His eyes won’t open. He can’t feel his legs, his arms, and his eyes won’t open. He can't remember how he got here. Nothing hurts. Nothing feels at all.

Then he hears the voices.  two completely unknown, one that he can almost place but not quite. 

"I certainly hope this is worth the cost.  How much has it gone through?" the voice Barry knows he knows, just not from where, asks. 

"The subject has a heightened metabolism," the first stranger says. "As we suspected. So far we've increased the dosage by a factor of ten, and that seems to be doing the trick. It won't keep it out, you understand."

"No, no, I expect not. But it will prevent complications?"

"Yes, sir. That seems to be the case. We'll know more after we get more data, but for now... see for yourself."

"Is it awake?"

yes, Barry wants to scream. He wants to scream a few other things, too. I'm not an it, I'm a person and the police will nail you for this and that's only if my friends leave you in big enough pieces.

"Hard to tell. Look at the brain activity-- it's all over the place. Truly fascinating stuff. We thought it was dead more than once, but the paralytic seems to have slowed it's heartrate enough we can keep track of it."

"Good. Don't let it die. Project Hermes is too valuable for that."

Stagg, Barry realizes. That's the voice. Simon Stagg. But Dr. Wells. Thawne. He killed him, didn't he? Could that have been another change to the timeline?  This time, Eobard didn't kill Stagg. none of the team had considered him a threat, but he must have been, if Thawne killed him. If Barry's here, trapped in-- he can smell it. He can't see anything, but he can smell the antiseptic, the cleaner, the nitrile. It's not quite a hospital. It's worse than that. 

"We'll begin the first phase, then, if you're ready, Doctor." Someone says, and Barry can't feel more than a light pressure on his arm, above where the IV must be attached to pump him full of Succinylcholine or something like it. But he knows the sound of a scalpel through skin. He knows the smell of his own blood. 

Stop, he wants to scream, and can't.

[hedgiwithapen]

Stargate team (whoever or as many as you like. I couldn't pick...) "it's going to be alright. I promise."

 "Stay with us," Jack told Daniel as Sam scrambled to the ground next to him. "Right? We'll have you fixed up in no time." As lies went, it wasn't a very good one, but he said it all the same. 

“It’s going to be alright. I promise,” Daniel said, straining to sit up. He fell back against the soft dirt that was already getting more than a little muddy from the blood he'd lost.

“Easy, Daniel,” Sam said, pressing her wadded up spare tshirt to the wound. “Just hold on.”

“I mean it. Statistically --ahh!-- speaking,” Daniel continued, groaning in pain as she applied more pressure. “I think I might be... immortal. Can't seem to... to stay dead.”

Sam turned to look helplessly at Jack, who winced. The Dial Home Device had been damaged. Fixable, but not in time. The Jaffa would overrun them as soon as they realized how truly indefensible their location was, and that trying to run for a safer spot was out of the question. The shirt was already sodden, blood staining the ground and Sam's hands.

“So really,” Daniel pressed, dragging in another ragged breath. “You should go. I’ll…I’ll catch up.”

“You always do,” Jack said, hesitantly reaching down to take his hand and squeeze it. “This time we’ll stick around though. Sound good?”

“Sounds… bad, actually,” Daniel said. “You should--”

“I should do a lot of things, Jack agreed. “But you’re not my mother, so I think you can skip the lectures. We’re not leaving you behind. You got that?”

"I got it," Daniel said, taking another labored breath. "But after. You run?"

Jack swallowed the refusal. "Yeah," he said, hoarsely. " After.  Not a minute sooner. No one... No one's alone." "Good," Daniel sighed, and his hand went limp.

[hedgiwithapen]

SG-1: Instead of breaking the time loop, Malikai succeeds in figuring out time travel, and SG-1 wakes up just before the beginning of the series.

(episode: Window of Opportunity) “I lost my son,” Jack said, pity winning more than his anger, more than his frustration. “I know…and as much as I…I could never live that over again.” He looked at Malikai. “Could you?” “Yes,” came the answer, but not from the alien scientist. Jack turned to stare down Daniel. Daniel was not cowed.  “I could. For another minute, just one minute even… one more chance to tell her I loved her.” “You understand. Help me,” Malikai pleaded. “Daniel,” Jack warned. Daniel  ignored him. “One shot’s all we have, he’s going to be very grumpy about this,” Daniel said. “ let me see these markings-- I think-- this one… maybe?” “No, no, I’ve tried that one,” Malikai said. “But not in conjunction with these two, am I right?” Daniel beamed, touching the buttons. “So all we have to do is--” his hand came down. The alter lit.

Teal’c turned over in a bed he had not slept in in many months. His body remembered it better than his mind. He sat up, breathing in the smell of Chulak’s trees. They were like the trees of Earth-- of Tauri.  But they were not the same. He was home. And yet he was not. “Teal’c?” his wife asked, leaning up on her elbow. “You are troubled?” “I am not,” he said. It was a lie. “I am confused.” he amended, sensing that she had sensed his deception. “By what?” she asked. He paused, then plunged. “ I feel as though I have slept for many days. What is today?” She told him. Teal’c bit his tongue. He would be called soon, to go up past the Chappa’ai. Apophis still thought him faithful, and would send him to guard and choose from the captives that would be brought. Select a host for Amaunet. Kill the rest. His friends. They were not yet his friends, if they did not recall. What if they had not been affected as he had by the machine of Malakai?  But then, it would make logical sense for Jack O’neil to recall, as he too had been within the loop. And should he not… Teal’c would have to hope. “My love,” he said, quiet. Thinking. How he had longed for the chance to see things different. “I must ask you to do something for me, and tell no one of it.” “What?” she asked. “I go to attend Appophis.  When the sun is highest, take our son and wait, concealed, near the Chappa’ai. Stay back from it. Then you must wait for me, and trust me.” “Why?” “I cannot tell you why. All I can do is ask, and if you have any love for me, you will do this. Do you understand?” “I do not. But, for you, I will do this.” Teal’c leaned his forehead to touch hers. “I love you. I will return.” He might save his wife and child, and still doom his neighbors. But no. This time, the Stargate program could be aware of the threat the system lords would pose to Chulak. They might intervene. They would intervene.  All he had to do was wait, and hope.  The prisoners from Abydos would arrive soon. And from there… The gods were false, so there was no one to pray to that the people he had once considered family would risk their lives for a woman who was not Sha’re of Abydos. He had killed her twice. He could not do so again. 

[hedgiwithapen]

Stargate with Metakitties! Planet with superpowered cats!! AND! The cats need to be very obviously based on my and/or your real-life cats. (Our friends’ cats are also acceptable.)

There were worse planets to be stuck for a few days, if you asked Daniel. No one did. 

At least, not any more.

“Kitty Girl,” he said to the the black lump of cat in his lap. “I need you to move.”

The cat did not move. She blinked one eye partially open, and curled even tighter. Daniel closed the book he’d been studying. Whatever humans had once lived on this planet, they were long gone, but not so the cats. The tomes were still in decent condition, so Daniel was taking full advantage of the three day window of time they were stuck to learn everything he could about the civilization that had once been here. 

The main thing was the cats. They were everywhere, and not just the living cats, but the relics. Mosaics in the roads, murals on the walls that still stood, cats everywhere. Even the books shows signs of it-- inky pawprints marked many pages. 

Daniel shifted just a little in his seat. Kitty Girl blinked the other eye, and gave a noise that sounded almost like a sigh. She twitched one paw, and the book Daniel had been eyeing on the shelf floated over.

Honestly, the fact that all the cats had some kind of supernatural ability made the entry in the first history book make a lot more sense. 

They'd been here when the Gao'uld came. They'd been here when that Gao'uld fell, and they'd been the cause of it, at least if this historian was to be believed. There had only been a few humans, few enough that they'd died out naturally, or at least that was his current theory.  The brief genealogies in the book seemed to support it, and Sam's hazy recollections from Jolinar indicated that the Tokra Bast had  made her first strike against Gao'uld system lords here. 

He lost track of the hour. 

"I require some assistance," Teal'c called from outside. Daniel looked down at Kitty Girl and sighed. 

She grumbled as he resettled her on the cushion.

~~

Teal'c shifted his body weight, ineffectually. He shook his right arm briskly. This too failed to dislodge the "tabby" kitten that Sam had named "Baby" due to it's diminutive size from where it clung by claw and jaw. 

"I require assistance," he said again. Baby hooked a claw free and climbed closer to the precious cargo Teal'c bore. 

Colonel Jack O'Neil looked them up and down and laughed. As if Teal'c had told a joke of some kind, though he did not often laugh at Teal'c humor.

"I do not see what is so funny," Teal'c said, lifting an eyebrow. The kitten growled, biting down harder. 

Teal'c was Jaffa. He could handle pain. That did not mean he enjoyed it. 

"I warned you," Jack said. "And you didn't believe me."

"I do not see the wisdom in dowsing my dinner in a sweetened fruit paste that does not compliment the flavors." 

"Yeah, well, Ketchup's the only thing in our supplies that little demon doesn't like, so. If you want to be the one eating your dinner, I suggest you try it." Jack said, holding up the bottle.

Teal'c sighed. "Very well," he agreed, putting down his plate for Jack to doctor, and catching the kitten before it could reach the rest of the food. 

He held it up to eye level, though at arms' length, having learned that lesson already. "We are allies. I would share with you, if you would not take it all for yourself, " he told Baby, who pinned his ears backwards and attempted a disemboweling kick that would have worked on a small rodent, and not Teal'c's arm. The Jaffa smiled, recognizing a kindred spirit. "You will make a fine warrior against the Gao'uld, some day, if you do not annoy your fellows. After supper, I shall teach you the best way to kill a snake."