#but like. the tech asked at least once if I’ve ever had surgery there so…be that what you will

[faebeeboo]

do you think that if ford had a child with polydactycly that he would consider getting them surgery to remove the extra finger/s so they don't have to experience what he did growing up, or would he have other ways to ensure that after living with it himself for so long?

I think it would occur to him. Every time he and his partner would go for ultrasounds, it would be the first thing he’d look for. He would want the ultrasound tech to really search to see how the hands were developing, through every stage. And if they eventually found that the kid had polydactyly… he’d be devastated. Terrified of how the world would treat them, and blaming himself for it

Of course, if they’re functional and not causing any pain, no doctor is going to perform that kind of surgery. And I think Ford would know that, as much as he’d want to ask. He’d also probably see it as a mutilation of his child, so realistically he would probably never go through with it anyway.

He’s come to terms with his own circumstances, but he feels as though it’s a shame to push the same situation onto an innocent child who has no choice in the matter (despite the fact that HE had no choice as a child either).

But ultimately, his “condition” led him to his passion. He loves abnormal things, and his own child would of course be no exception.

Once he comes to terms with it, I think he would absolutely love it. His little mini-me. He’d teach them all the tricks you can only do with six fingers. That baby would NEVER hear him speak ill of polydactyly. It’s only the coolest thing ever, an exclusive club that only baby and dad are part of.

When baby finally starts school, he’s terrified. He probably writes out a whole note to the child’s teacher wanting them to watch out for baby, to make sure nobody makes them feel as though they are anything less than super special. He debates homeschooling them - I have 12 PHDs, I am MORE THAN qualified to teach an elementary schooler - and his partner would have to talk him out of it, reassure him that it would all be fine. They’d have to send the kid out into the world eventually.

I also think he would be very surprised. Because it is not the 60s/70s anymore, when he was growing up. Kids’ attitudes are totally different, and they adapt pretty quickly to any changes to their manner of thinking. People have five fingers on each hand. But my friend over here? They have six. So I guess that first thing isn’t always true. Anyway, wanna build a block tower with me?

Of course, there may be the odd bully here or there, but the support baby would have would completely dwarf that in comparison. He’s making six-fingered gloves and making that kid feel like the COOLEST little scientist, letting them sit in during some of his (safer) experiments. The other kids who grow up with baby are gonna fiercely defend their friend, especially if they’re going to school in Gravity Falls. I’ve seen it happen. In small towns, small schools, kids treat any kid with differences with the utmost respect, and are watching out for any sleights towards them. There will be at least a few that will call out anyone who wrongs their six-fingered friend.

[navalcriminalimagines]

Hi!! Happy New Year!! So....I had a request that I’ve been dying to ask for like the longest time. But what if the reader is a doctor and married to Gibbs, and when a member of the team is hurt, she operates/heals them? And then she comes out and comforts Gibbs like all fluffy and sweet? He’s just so in love with her?? Aahhhh makes my brain mush thinking about it xxxxx

happy new year to you too!!! thanks a lot for your request! i hope it’s what you were expecting!! much love and stay safe ✨💖

NCIS, Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader.

Being you

“Male in his thirties, gun shot in the abdomen. He lost conscious on the ride here, lost a lot of blood,” the paramedics announced to you.

As you took a look to the man laying there, all bloody, you realized it was your husband’s team member Timothy McGee. Although he was unconscious, you put your hand to his cheek, you let him know, “Tim, it’s me Y/N. You’re gonna fine okay? I’m taking care of you. Hang in there,”

Before you knew it, you were in surgery, taking the bullet off his abdomen. Tim gave you a big scare on the operating table, when his heart started to race, your assistant was scared it may stop. “Tim! don’t do this,” you took a warning ton, “Your boss won’t forgive me and he sure as hell won’t forgive you,”

You knew you had to think about your patient only, that Tim only should be in your mind but you couldn’t help but to think about your husband. You don’t know what happened exactly, how the gunshot took place but Gibbs must be in the worst state of mind right now.

The surgery lasted longer than you thought since it cause damages into Tim’s stomach. His healing will take time, and he would be out of action for months. As you were putting the last stitch on his scar, your assistant congratuled you as she always does. “Team work,” you smiled at her. You took a look at Tim’s face. He was peaceful but very pale. Once again, you put your hand on his cheek, “You did good, Tim.”

You made sure he was taken safely into the resuscitation room, and walked to the waiting room. You thought your husband would be there, standing and waiting but instead, you saw Abby, Ducky and Jimmy. The lab tech jumped into your arms, not caring about the blood you had all over your blouse, “Is he okay? Is Tim okay?”

“He’s fine, Abbs. Still unconscious, but you’ll be able to see him soon,” you softly smiled at her.

“I knew he was in good hand,” you heard the medical examiner telling you.

You hugged Ducky and Jimmy, before asking. “Where’s Jethro?”

“Chasing the man who did this. Safe to say that one won’t stop by your operating table,” Jimmy awkwardly laughed. Tipical Jimmy Palmer. Of course the man who shot Tim was a dead man.

Your shift was over hours ago, but as long as Jethro was still out there looking for the shooter, you stayed around to check on Tim. You know your husband isn’t a texter, but you kept checking your phone to see if he has answer your text.

Tim’s safe. How are you? And the team? You guys stay safe, okay? Want you to be there when I get home. I love you, J.

The morning rose. Tim was still out. Abby, Ducky and Jimmy made rounds to stay with him. “Doc! Already here or never left?” Your assistant greeted you in the locker room, as her new shift was about to start.

“I stayed with my husband’s team,” you tiredly smiled at her.

“Is his coworker still okay? No complications?”

“All is good for now,”

“You should go home. We got this. We’ll take a good care of him,”

“You’re sweet but I’ll go home when J has. It’s my duty to stay here,”

“Do you have a male version of yourself? Wouldn’t mind a partner like you,”

You chuckled at her words and thanked her for always being this awesome. You heard a certain brouhaha coming from the hallway, and as you rushed there, you realized it was coming from Tim’s room. Abby looked all freaked out at you, “He—he started to convulsed. Do something, Y/N, please,” she begged.

Thank god it wasn’t something too serious. A few minutes later, Tim’s vitals came back to normal and he started to gain conscious. “Morning, Warrior,” you smiled at him.

He was out of it, his body was in total pain but he giggled at your words. “T—Thank you doc Gibbs,” he managed to say.

“Go back to sleep before Abby gives you a lecture,”

He smiled and dozed off.

It’s late in the afternoon that you heard from your husband. Or at least, that Ducky told you he was home. You checked on last time on Tim, gave instructions, told everyone to call if needed and you went home to your husband.

The house was complete dark and you didn’t hear a single sound. Jethro was probably exhausted, so you didn’t turn on the lights, only using your phone’s flash. You found him laying on the couch, face buried in a pillow. You sat next to him, softly stroked his hair and when he moved his head to the side, you kissed his temple. “Hi my love,” you whispered. “How are you?”

He turned around and opened his arms for you to come laying on his chest. “Better now,” he said. You could hear his voice was about to crack. You were exhausted from the last 40 hours - your normal shift, plus Tim’s surgery and staying until now. But your husband’s mental health was all that mattered at this moment.

You stayed in his arms for a moment, enjoying the small circles his hand was doing in your back. Eventually you sat up and took him with you. “Hungry?” He shook his head no. “Wanna go into bed?” He did the same. “I got an idea then,” you kissed his forehead, “Stay here until I call you,” Jethro watched you going upstairs and wondered how he got this lucky.

You called him ten minutes later. Unexpectedly to him, you had prepared a bath. Warm, bubbly with candles. Without a word, you helped him undressed and told him to get into the bathtub. He did as told. “Come with me,” he whispered.

“In a minute,”

But first, you offered to massage his scalp and temples. Leaning into every touch, Jethro felt all the tensions for the past day fading away. Maybe all the tensions he ever had even. He doesn’t understand how he got you to fall in love with him. How could a woman like you marry him? He could never understand.

Still leaning into your touch, he repeated, “Come with me, Y/N,” he sounded so needy, you couldn’t refuse this time. You felt his blue eyes all on you as you undressed and joined him in the bathtub. He laid down and invited you to come rest on his chest, but you refused and made him spin around in the bathtub. He heard him giggle as his legs were blocked. You don’t get to hear his laugh often, and it made you fall in love with him a little more. Finally, he managed to spin and laid down on your chest. “What did I do?” You heard him say, as you were softly caressing his arms and chest, playing with his chest hair from time to time.

“What?” You asked.

“What did I do so you fell in love with me? And—married me?” He asked. It sounded like a genuine question.

“It would take me a book to answer this and you don’t read books,”

Jethro gets this. He got a commun point between you too; avoiding serious question about your feelings. So he let it slide. You and him stayed silent until the water got cold. You helped him wash, and so he did for you. Even if he told again he wasn’t hungry, you prepared two bowls of cereals and joined him on the couch, under blankets.

Still, he doesn’t understand. How in the world would a woman want to eat cereals in front of a tv that only has one channel. In black and white. But here you are, drinking your milk and watching the western movie as if it was the blockbuster of the year.

You were watching the tv, and Jethro was watching you when your phone buzzed. It was your coworker.

Could’ve warn me your friend was such a drama queen. He called, claiming he was dying because his stomach was making weird things. He was hungry.

You laughed at the text and read it to Jethro. “I’ll give him hard times if he gives some to your friends,” he chuckled, getting you closer to him and kissing your temple.

“Why didn’t you come see him?” You asked.

“Chased the man who did it,” he paused, “And I knew he was safe with you,”

Perhaps he did, but you could still on his face how worried he has been since yesterday. “Your cereals look like porridge,” you smiled.

“Sorry. Told you I wasn’t hungry,” Jethro said. He put his bowl on the coffee table and you felt his body curling on your side. You finished your milk, put the bowl away and opened your arms so his head could rest on your chest.

“Thank you,” you heard him whisper.

“What for?”

“Being you,”

You didn’t see the tear escaping your husband’s eye.

[yougobunny]

Tech loved his friends. 

When he found Ace on his knees in the training room, palms pressed into his eyes and groaning from the pressure pounding in his skull, Tech had a pair of goggles ready for him before dinner. When Ace went to his room that night he found it shrouded in midnight, a type of darkness that Ace had never experienced before even after the meteor crash took out the power supply in Acmetropolis. The blackout screens that Tech had installed over dinner blocked out any possible light source, and when Ace woke up the next day it wasn’t from the migraine that has stolen sleep from his eyes for what feels like a lifetime. 

Tech invented near-indestructible gloves for Rev for the speedster’s baking endeavours. Earmuffs for Lexi to mute out the world, at least temporarily. For a few weeks when Duck had demanded to add a cape to his suit, Tech sketched designs using the same material from their suits, the ones that he had already designed to be bulletproof after Slam constantly tore through the first few designs, after Ace had gotten shot. 

A few weeks after meeting her, Tech asked Sapphire for her phone over dinner and returned it a few minutes later while they were digging into dessert. Sapphire was still dressed in her butterfly scrubs, Tech could still smell the antiseptic that clung to her like a second skin at this point. “I’ve upgraded it, there’s an app right on the home screen now,” he turned the screen towards her and pointed at an icon designed to look like a sleek rendition of HQ from afar, “if you’re ever in trouble just click on this and we’ll get an alert no matter where we are.”

“Thank you,” Sapphire’s eyes flickered between Tech and the screen, her pavlova forgotten for a few heartbeats. She reached for the phone, finger hovering over the app. A distress call. A message in a bottle. “Lexi told me to just scream if I ever need help and she’d hear me.”

“I stand by that!” Lexi called out from the other side of the room, eyes not leaving the screen from whatever game she and Rev were battling out for the night. 

Tech grinned, fingers tapping on the table, “Think of this as back-up.”

Sapphire dropped her phone back into her bag, “Do you know who William Stewart Halsted is?”

Tech nodded, not perturbed in the slightest by the change of topic. He’s gotten used to it with Rev. “The inventor of the rubber gloves.”

“Do you know why he did it?”

“Necessity?”

“You could say that,” Sapphire laughed, “He was the first chief of surgery at the hospital and he loved a nurse there, she became his wife later on.” She grabbed her spoon and began digging into the pavlova once again as she talked, “He noticed that the skin of her hands had developed a bad case of dermatitis from her work at the hospital, so he introduced rubber gloves that she could wear to protect her hands. Soon everyone wore them too.” She took a bite of the dessert, swallowing before speaking once more, “It’s the great romance of medicine.”

Tech glanced down at Sapphire’s hands, then glanced around the room to where his friends were sprawled. Slam had Ace and Duck captivated with his commentary of a wrestling match on the screen that Tech had upgraded after Slam had accidentally sent the remote crashing through it once in his excitement. Lexi let out a whoop of joy, tossing her controller aside and backflipping over the couch in a celebratory lap after beating Rev. She had broken two controllers before Tech had fixed them. 

Tech loved his friends. He loved them to the point of reinvention.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Please ignore this if you've gotten sick of this particular prompt, but may we please get another set of the Oxygen Deprivation scenarios, but this time with Ratchet and Megatron?? Regardless of if you do it or not, thank you for your hard work, I love everything you've written so far!

Thankfully I never tire of drama! I did the prompt for Megatron back in part three, but I've absolutely got some grumpy/caring medic for you! Thank you for taking the time to read my stuff and send in a request, it always makes my day!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: You're Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Ratchet

·You're in Swerve's with him for a nice evening off, something he enjoys a little more frequently than he used to thanks to the multitude of medics on board, but he appreciates every minute the two of you get to enjoy together regardless. There's hardly a lack of things to discuss, and you often find yourself listening to his stories until the bar closes and he has to carry you to berth. It's a little embarrassing for you, especially with every bot that knows thinking it's the cutest thing they've ever seen, but you admittedly enjoy being with Ratchet too much to care about how it looks. It doesn't hurt that he quite obviously enjoys it as well, especially when he's usually around those who only seek him out if they're sick, and he enjoys that he finally has an enthusiastic audience.

·The two of you are amongst the last of the patrons but still going strong one slow evening, with you perched atop a table whilst the older mech tells a story about a long ago incident in a medical lab where, upon being short staffed due to an ongoing battle, a patient had helpfully assisted with his own surgery. Though you're tired due to the hour, you're more than invested enough to keep your eyes open and listen along in fascination. It's not often he gets to go on like this, after all, and he looks absolutely adorable when he does.

·There's an unexpected flickering of the lights that stops everyone in their place, but it ends just quickly enough for the atmosphere to return to calm and for some bot to crack a joke about Swerve not paying his electric bill. You barely have time to chuckle before the whole ship is rocked like a boat on the open ocean, sending engex flying and glass shattering as everything not nailed down is tossed without a care, yourself included. Only the quick hands of an experienced medic save you from experiencing a not so gentle crash into the floor. Looking up once the dust settles to see Ratchet has you cupped safely in his palms, the two of you can't help but exchange a quick smile before the various bots around you start asking questions.

·Ratchet is quick to answer, keeping you in his hands to avoid the sea of broken glass as he stands. Any bot with decent battle experience on a ship like this recognizes what they all just felt, but being a bot who's seen more than his fair share of combat in space, he's able to explain that the size of the tremor indicates that they've been trapped by an enemy ship of smaller but not insignificant build. He gives them about five minutes before they're boarded, and instructs those gathered to head for emergency battle stations, as commands for defense will no doubt be incoming.

·Announcing his own intent to get to his post in the medical bay, the mech is quick to get going despite appearing outwardly calm, even promising Swerve he'll settle his tab when they get all this sorted. Holding you tight in one hand, he pulls up his communicator and tries to reach the bridge for specific instructions. To his frustration nothing comes through, and you find the same results when you make an attempt to establish communication with any top bot on your own communicator, prompting a few muttered swears from your partner. As usual, he's quick to get right to planning.

·Thankfully his designated task for any kind of emergency is exactly the same no matter the crisis; he heads to the medical bay and starts repairing the inevitable wounded. While you can't help with surgery, being that you're not much bigger than most of their tools, he posits that it makes sense for you to come with him. There's nothing more fortified than the medical bay, after all, so you can at least be somewhere safe. Though you're tempted to tease him about how obvious it is he wants you somewhere he can keep an optic on you, for now you decide to just settle in his hand and focus on what's ahead.

·Having been on many ships before this one, he's able to navigate with hardly a second thought, giving him a chance to keep his focus on you whilst he tries to keep figuring out the extent of the ship's difficulty. You can see him frown as he tries unsuccessfully to get his communicator working, and though you want to be stealthy for the sake of safety, you do want a better understanding of what's going on. Thankfully a human voice doesn't travel far through the hallways when spoken at conversational volume. Trying not to betray your anxiety, you ask if he can tell you anything about what to expect.

·Holding your tiny form a little closer, he hides the fact that he can see your apprehension clear as day, quite familiar with the brave face bots and humans alike will put on when in danger. Still, he certainly respects you enough to be honest. He explains that one ship latching on to another for an ambush these days is typically a pirate tactic, as they're more interested in selling the vessel afterwards or scrapping it for tech, unlike warring factions who will typically just blow each other up. There's probably already enemy forces on the ship, and they've certainly come well armed if they feel confident enough to take on Cybertronians.

·Your eyes dart around a little faster at that thought. Securing your hand against one of his digits, you remember they're sensitive enough to pick your heartbeat from just a touch, and the recollection stirs your affection whilst also making you think. If Cybertronians are so advanced, how can there be nothing working on this ship right now? Were there really no back up systems that could at least give you the basics? With the whole structure being the size of Manhattan, it'd be very nice to at least know if some areas might be safe, but then again bots tended to build things in a strange way. Nevertheless, your curiosity is so great you can't help asking a question.

·Ratchet pauses even as he keeps walking, his expression going distant in a way that initially makes you worry your query was taken with offense. But thankfully he speaks a second afterwards, looking inspired as he recalls a station of terminals not too far out of your path. It's more vulnerable, sure, but it also has physical connections to every part of the craft. He'd at least be able to conduct a system wide scan from there, and after that he'd have a much better idea of what they're up against. But he has to ask you first; are you comfortable with him taking the risk? Of course he'll always protect you, but there's a greater chance he'll need to do that if this path is chosen.

·You're smart enough to know exactly what he means. But there's a risk you'll bump into an enemy anyway, so wouldn't having a chance to get information like this be worth it? Oddly enough you seem more on board than he is with the plan, his friendly blue optics dimming with worry before you lay a comforting hand on his chest, smiling as you do so. This big mech cares so deeply for everyone, but you have a very special place in his loving spark, no matter how much he tries to pretend he's a grump. Your sentimental move seems to snap him back to hiding behind his mask, and he mutters something about feeling your heartbeat against his palm and how it's obvious you're nervous but if you say you're ready then he'll give this plan a try...

·For the sake of stealth he remains in bipedal mode, but he absolutely keeps you securely held to his chest, and you can't help but wish the circumstances were better because his spark humming beside you is impossibly soothing. Being held protectively by a Cybertronian is undoubtedly one of the most secure feelings in the world, you believe. Just being held by him in general though is enough to make you realize you're actually quite tired, enough so that you could absolutely fall asleep... Until he detects your slowing heartbeat and encourages you to stay awake.

·The terminal is in sight without a spot of trouble when Ratchet has to gently coax you awake for a second time, using a light nudge of his digit to encourage you to open your eyes once more. Though he knows the hour is late, your sudden sluggishness concerns him as a medic, enough so that he's now more intent than ever on getting some answers. Even without proof and a wealth of far more simple explanations, he's got a feeling something is wrong. A small part of his concentration is divided to keep a constant watch on your vitals.

·You're still alert enough to hear the incoming trouble just as he does; gunfire, shouts and general sounds of skirmish approaching rapidly down the hallway. Hearing him curse this unfortunate luck, you try to ascertain how long the two of you have until company arrives, but the noise is much too chaotic for you to gauge. Knowing Autobots will be amongst the fray is somehow far from comforting. Holding on tight to the hands cradling you so protectively, you look straight up just as the quick thinking doctor looks down at you, absolute trust in your eyes as you meet his optics. Whatever he decides to do next, you trust him with your life.

·The decision he makes isn't a spontaneous one, but it certainly feels like it as he barrels towards the terminals, holding his tiny partner to his chest as he runs. Knowing what's happening may well be the key to undoing any damage before it's too late. He can feel the heat of a few errant shots of blaster fire just as he gets his one spare hand on the keyboard, typing with speed he typically reserves for surgery as the world around him grows gradually more chaotic. Fortunately he only needs to hit a few buttons to bring up all the information he's looking for. Sharp optics start scanning whilst he uses his multitasking skills to keep track of everything else, listening for the threat and holding your little body close while he registers your pulse.

·The world around you feels like it's moving through water that thickens with every passing second, and neither the crackle of energy weapons nor the clanging of blades does anything to reverse the process. Even a shout from an Autobot warning Ratchet to move seems a million miles away. You know he told you to stay awake, but would he really mind if you got a quick nap in? After all, it's so late, and you're so tired, and you feel so safe in his sheltered grip... There isn't even a bit of worry in your mind regarding the fray. How could you be worried, here with the bot who would protect you always?

·Everything makes a terrifying amount of sense far too quickly. Ratchet is accustomed to the rapid responses his occupation requires of him, but for this singular instant he's frozen, optics locking on the atmosphere readout and hoping that he's simply misread it. A glancing but molten blow past his back forces him to accept what won't change, and he manages a combat roll just as the terminal is blasted by errant fire, the battle now within arms length as the same Autobot keeps encouraging him to move. He obliges only after sinking a fist into the face of an alien who wanders too close. After that, he's on the move without reservation, keeping you shielded with his entire frame as he runs.

·Your world spins without end even when the movement of everything beyond stabilizes, and you cling to the bot holding you for something to steady it all. God, what you wouldn't give to lie down and sleep... Ratchet is talking to you though, holding you so that you can see his face as he explains something about oxygen and taking deep breaths while focusing on him. It makes tragically little sense to you. Still, you feel bad as your eyelids grow heavy and your body turns to limp weight in his grip. Even your efforts to breathe as instructed feel like a failure. Of all the beings in the galaxy he's the one you want to dissapoint least, but his warm palms beneath you are so comfortable, and his spark humming in your ear is so soothing... You only hope he can forgive you for submitting to sleep.

·Ratchet knows he's powerless to wake you again, but that hardly keeps the agony from tearing at his spark. Seeing you go limp in his grasp, feeling your pulse weaken and grow irregular, hearing your breath stall... How long has it been since any medical emergency has reduced him to near panic like this? He's so invested in his task that his arrival to the medical bay only comes with orders. You're the human equivalent of a Fader, and so much of what he needs to save you isn't even ready to go! He needs to have a mask, a saline solution for dehydration, and oxygen of the exact content percentage you need to survive just to start... For the first time in eons he's terrified, even as it all comes together and he sees your vitals stabilize before his very optics, as all he can think of is how very close this came to ending tragically. As you're left recovering he quickly gets to work on other patients, throwing himself into the task so as not to worry, though his optics betray him on the regular with glances towards the berth supporting your tiny body.

·Wakefulness comes with a familiar digit resting in your palm, reading your vitals as you put together blurry pieces of a not so happy story. To your delight, a brightly colored chevron is the first thing you see when you open your eyes, and it's impossible not to smile when you roll your head over to look at the owner. Ratchet somehow looks more exhausted than you've ever seen him as he smiles back. He relays everything that happened in a way that paints him as an unimportant figure, up until you move your hand to rest atop his, your eyes filled with that same trust and admiration you'd given before he'd gone for the terminal. You want to communicate that you know how much you owe him. This brave, selfless medic who'd risked so much to give you his best and deserved the full credit for saving your life... Humility doesn't allow him to agree in full, but you're certain you can see peace in his optics, the kind he only seems to feel with you.

[rayadraws]

So I was listening to mr lover man by Ricky Montgomery (AMAZING SONG) and I thought omg, what if Genos got hurt so badly that he had to stay a year with kuseno to get repairs. Of course Saitama could visit, but couldn’t take Genos home, not even for holidays. And poor pining Saitama is all depressed and Genos hates himself for getting hurt and AAA the angst~

Hhhhhhhh

Tags: hurt/comfort, mild angst with happy ending, established relationship, G-rated

Genos had had several close calls. It wasn’t always easy to tell, ’cause the guy would do everything to hide it, like a sick animal pretending it was feeling fine. And it was hard sometimes to even tell what was serious when it came to him - losing an arm or a leg or both was annoying, but not life threatening in the least, like it would be for a regular person.

There was no denying it this time, though. When Saitama found him in the rubble, he felt his stomach drop. The image haunted him even days after. He didn’t even dare pick Genos up from where he laid, he was scared of making it worse, with all those... bits exposed. He just guarded him until the drones arrived and then he went home, unable to eat or read or do anything, so he went to bed at 8 pm and tried desperately to forget this day had even happened.

The phone didn’t ring until almost a full day later and when Saitama picked it up, it wasn’t Genos on the other end but his doc. Saitama had never heard him sound so grim before.

”How is he? Itching to get back up yet?”

”Saitama-kun, are you sitting down?”

It was bad. Really bad.

Kuseno had a bunch of complicated terms for it, but from what Saitama gathered basically the connection between Genos’ brain and his body had been severed, which was really dangerous, for obvious reasons. There was a risk of brain damage, but there was also apparently a risk that his brain wouldn’t correct right to his cyborg body again, or any cyborg body, if those connection points had been too badly damaged. Which would be really, really bad. Brain damage would be kinder. Without a body, there would barely be any life left for Genos, he’d be little more than a brain in a jar.

The doctor kept him in a medically induced coma for what felt like forever. At least Genos didn’t have muscles that would atrophy from lack of use in the meantime.

When he finally woke up again, they had no idea what to expect. Kuseno had warned Saitama that Genos probably wouldn’t move or say much, if anything at all. He’d been put in a new body, one that was set up more for people undergoing full body modification surgery for the first time - kinda like a bubble-wrapped edition. No weapons, no fancy scanners - as little as possible for a badly jostled brain to deal with. Just enough to be a person.

”Hey, bud, how are you feeling?”

Genos just looked at him, not moving as much as a muscle. His face looked the same as before... all this. His hair might have been a bit shorter, Saitama thought. Easier to care for while he recovered. And of course, all the cables and wires connected at the back of his neck, so thick they almost formed a pillow under his head where he laid on the table, covered only with a thin blanket.

Genos could be stoic, but he rarely tried to hide his feelings around Saitama. It was unnerving to see him so still. Saitama couldn’t even tell if he recognized him or not.

Kuseno clapped Saitama’s shoulder as he made his way towards the exit later, but he couldn’t make any hopeful promises.

The next time Saitama came to visit, things were better, thank goodness. Genos could move now, a little bit. Mostly his facial muscles, but enough that Saitama could tell he was happy to see him. Over a month since the accident had already passed at this point, so he was happy to finally see some improvement.

The third visit, Genos was in a foul mood already by the time Saitama arrived. That was unlike him (at least around Saitama). Kuseno explained he was upset because of how long his recovery was predicted to take, which he’d just been informed of.

A year.

If they were lucky.

No monster fighting. No shopping. No tracking the mad cyborg. Genos was going to be stuck in the lab for months and months, watching the world go on without him while he struggled to even move his toes.

Genos could be stoic. He wasn’t that day. Nor was he raging, though. He couldn’t control his body enough to be. The tears flowed quietly as Saitama held his head in his lap and tried to tell him that it would be okay. That his stuff would be waiting for him until he was ready. Saitama too. And he’d visit, as often as he could and Genos wanted him to. He’d bring him his favourite stuff, his notebooks and the chocolate he had hid among the frozen peas back home. The stupid plushie version of himself that Saitama suspected Genos had commissioned someone to make for him. By the fourth visit, all the things he’d brought last time were lined up so Genos could look at them whenever he wanted. He looked pleased at that, at least.

He still wasn’t speaking, couldn’t move anything below the neck. Didn’t even have his own room - lab wasn’t set up like that - but they’d made this one corner all his. Kuseno had pulled down a TV, a radio, audiobooks. A potted plant, though Saitama had no idea what kind it was. At least it added a bit of life. This portion of the lab didn’t have windows, so the doc had hung up a poster of a forest instead. It was as nice as you could make such a place. And in the middle of it all laid Genos, propped up like a grumpy-looking doll, probably wishing he was anywhere else.

About four months in, he started to talk again, which was nice, though it was hard to understand what he was trying to say most of the time. At first it was mostly grunts and sighs, he struggled to form actual words. But at least he could point and make gestures now, if you gave him time, so he could point at what he wanted. He couldn’t write yet, but he could flip the TV channels and change the radio station, giving him at least that little bit of control of his life. And he could eat and drink again, even if he spilled a lot. Must be nice though, to be able to finally do some stuff on his own at least. Saitama couldn’t imagine how bored and frustrated he must be, he was normally so active.

They celebrated Christmas down in the lab that year. Saitama had asked Kuseno if he couldn’t at least take Genos to the nearest town, just for a couple hours, but doc said it was essential Genos was hooked up to all those cables 24/7. Poor guy. But they had cake together and Genos even managed to murmur a ’murry chrysmaz’, which was both sad and cute.

Saitama got him gifts too, a book about space that looked cool and a Gudetama plushie and a hoodie that was really warm and soft. Genos gestured that he wanted to wear it immediately, so Saitama helped him out of the Qseno Tech one and pulled the hoodie over his head.

It contrasted nicely with his arms, which Saitama told him. These arms weren’t polished grey or black like most of Genos’ designs, but white with black accents. They looked so... peaceful, by comparison. Didn’t even have blasters, just soft pads for grip, almost like pawpads. Genos sat completely still as he let Saitama feel his hand over, interlacing their fingers.

Without warning, Saitama felt his eyes starting to burn. He took a deep breath, trying to will it away, but that only made it worse. He looked away, until he felt Genos’ fingers squeezing his.

”Shen...shei.”

He broke down.

It was Genos’ turn to comfort Saitama, which felt wrong, but he was so good at it. He held Saitama in his arms, resting his chin on his shoulder, until he got it all out, which took forever.

”It’s not the same without you there. It’s so lonely...”

”Clean-n?”

”If I’ve... kept it tidy?”

”Yus.”

”Uhh...”

”Shenshei!”

When Saitama dared meet Genos’ eyes, he was giving him that disapproving stare that he knew well from when he was slacking off.

”I’ll make sure the place is spotless when you return home.”

”Goo. Call Kin.”

”I guess I can invite King over.”

”Foobooki. Ban. Moomen.”

”Fine, I do have friends.”

Genos reached up to wipe a tear off his cheek. ”Yus.”

-

Inviting people over meant he had to tidy up. It was a lot and he completely misjudged how long it would take. He was only halfway done when King showed up and he tried to apologize, but King didn’t say much, just helped him with the rest. They got pizza and played video games and it was almost like normal. Apartment looked a lot less glum now, too. Wouldn’t need to be embarrassed when Genos got back home. If he could keep it up for another six months.

”I’d come earlier, if you’d only let me in, Saitama.”

”Yeah, I know.”

”You’re welcome to visit me too.”

”Yeah yeah.”

They played in silence for a while.

”You wanna talk about it?”

”It’s lonely without him.”

”Yeah. But he’s doing better, right?”

”Yeah. He can sit up now.”

”Is it taking that long to fix his body?”

”S’not his body, it’s his brain.”

”Oh.”

They went back to being quiet. After Saitama’s character had gotten his ass kicked half a dozen times, he told King to go home. He was hesitant, asking Saitama twice if he’d be okay. He promised he would be. Besides, Fubuki was coming over the next day. They were going to sort the mountains of get well-letters Genos’ fans had sent him after word finally got out that Demon Cyborg was on extended sick leave. He’d asked them to keep that stuff at the HA, but apparently they had had enough of that and were going to dump the boxes at the apartment the next morning. Saitama didn’t look forward to it.

Fubuki showed up looking very casual, for being her. Saitama wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen her in pants before, nevermind sweats, even if they were brand name. She brought food too, fruit and bread and stuff like that. But she didn’t ask any stupid questions, just shook her head at the stack of boxes of fanmail.

”We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

”Yup.”

”If you’d started months ago, it wouldn’t be this much work now.”

”Yup.”

Still, it wasn’t that bad once they got started. Most of the stuff they threw away, but they kept the treats and a few of the plushies. Saitama helped himself to one box of chocolate, but put the rest aside for Genos. Some kids had sent in drawings and those they kept too. They ate while they worked, taking care to not stain the letters.

”This one’s for you,” Fubuki said suddenly.

”Hate mail again.”

”No, nothing like that.”

”...”

”Listen. ’I read about Demon Cyborg and they say you’ve been seen walking alone in City Z. It breaks me heart to think of you being separated, you seem so close in all the photos. Please know that both of you are in our hearts. Best wishes.”

”Oh, well, that’s new.”

”We’ve all been worried, you know. For both of you.”

Saitama fiddled with the letter in his hands. ”It’s been rough. But it will be okay.”

Before he had the chance to stop her, Fubuki engulfed him in a hug.

-

He’d warned Genos that he was bringing him fan stuff today. Kuseno had encouraged Genos to read some of the letters, but he didn’t show much interest. They split the treats though and piled the plushies up on the least full shelf above the bed. The smallest one, a fuzzy cat, Saitama placed carefully on top of the potted plant. It was blooming, tiny delicate pink flowers.

”You know, I’ve never seen my cactus bloom, even after all these years,” Saitama remarked.

”Too bad,” Genos replied. His speech was getting clearer and clearer. He wasn’t chatting quite as much as he did… before all this, because it still required a fair deal of effort from him, but it was still a big improvement.

”Maybe I’ll bring cake, next time.”

”If you want.”

Genos didn’t remember his real birthdate. He didn’t remember much of the day his doctor found him either, but Kuseno did, of course. They’d picked that date as a stand-in birthday. They kept it simple, cause Genos didn’t like being surrounded by too many people and all, but they’d eat cake and Saitama always got him a little gift, usually slippers or oven mitts or something else that was practical. He’d waffled for like a week what to go for this time, especially with it being such a weird year and all. He still hadn't made up his mind .

Saitama took another letter from the pile and read it aloud. Reading vetted fanmail wasn’t so bad. They didn’t have to worry about weird or gross stuff, though Fubuki’s tolerance for allowing that had proven higher than Saitama’s.

”’In conclusion, get well soon’. That one was sweet, right?”

”I guess.”

”Oh come on, Demon Cyborg, with your ’hard exterior but fragile self within, so barely contained’.”

Genos snorted. It was like a balm, seeing him slowly return to his old self. That also meant he was getting increasingly restless, though. He’d already left his bed three times, now that Kuseno let him go without all the neck cables, once dutifully during physical therapy while supervised, twice at night when neither Saitama nor Kuseno were there to reel him in. The first of those times he didn’t get far, didn’t even leave the room, but the second he fell down a flight of stairs.

Thank goodness for his exceptionally hard head, or they might have had to put a helmet on him.

Saitama got it, though. Genos hadn’t like, lost any intelligence, or forgotten more stuff than, well, he already had. He still had his goals and interests and all that. And his body was still state of the art and ready to rock. The problem was getting the two - his brain and his body - to work together again. It was all way too complicated for Saitama, even when the doc tried to dumb it down for him, but at least Genos was going in the right direction.

The day came when Kuseno said it was okay for Genos to leave the lab for a few hours. They made a birthday date out of it, since they hadn’t had a proper date in nearly a year and his stand-in birthday was so close. It was hard to be left alone, though. People kept pointing and whispering and Genos didn’t want to deal with any of that. In the end, they bought tea and fancy cupcakes to go and then clambered into the nearest woods. Saitama had a bench or something in mind, or even just finding a nice patch of grass, but Genos had other plans.

”No, stop that.”

No response.

”Oi! Don’t!”

”Don’t worry, Sensei.”

He kept going higher. Into the damned tree.

”Genos! If you fall down your old man’s gonna skin me alive!”

”I will not fall.”

The next branch creaked worryingly under Genos’ weight, but he kept going. Slowly, but with great determination. What had gotten into the guy’s head?

There was nothing for it, then. With a great sigh, Saitama put the paper bag to his mouth, grabbing the edge with his teeth so he’d have his hands free. Branch by branch, he followed Genos up the tree.

About ten metres up, the stem of the tree split into two, leaving enough room for the two of them. With an exaggerated show of pretend-annoyance, Saitama made himself comfortable, placing the bag between them. Peering inside, he was pleased to note he hadn’t spilled anything. He looked up again. Genos was sitting with his eyes closed, hair moving in the breeze. He looked like an animal that had been released into the wild after a life of captivity. Maybe you wouldn’t think so looking at him, but Saitama knew Genos much preferred this environment to a busy city.

”Are you happy now, nature boy?” He nudged his companion in the side and handed him his paper cup. It couldn’t be more than lukewarm at this point, but his tea smelled real nice when Genos took off the lid to drink.

”Very pleased,” he all but purred.

”Can’t blame you, I guess.” And then, after a brief pause, ”I’m glad to see it. I’m glad you’re okay. You scared us, you know.”

”I know. I was scared too. And frustrated.”

”Don’t blame you.”

They didn’t say anything else. They didn’t need to. They said the rest through their actions, the held hands, the lingering gazes. The kiss, tasting of tea and pastries.

Saitama had no idea when he woke up that morning that he’d spend his afternoon kissing in a tree, but he had no complaints. Not until it was time to get down, anyway.

”We can jump.”

”Kuseno made me promise I’d return you without as much as a scratch and you already have a patch of mud on your shoulder. We’re not taking chances.”

”It will be fine.”

Somehow, it had escaped Saitama’s mind how goddamn stubborn his boyfriend was.

”How about I hold you and we jump together.”

”Sensei…”

”It’ll be like, romantic.”

”...Alright.”

Fortunately, Saitama hadn’t forgotten how much of a sap he could be.

It was a mess to stand up in the tree, nevermind getting into position, but eventually they figured it out. Genos grabbed Saitama’s shoulders and latched on, piggyback style, making sure to hold on to the bag as well, so it could be recycled back in town. Like that, they jumped down, and then continued. Apparently Genos couldn’t walk, now. Or rather, he’d decided he didn’t want to, that latching on to Saitama like a koala was better. Give that guy an inch…

When they got back inside the lab, Kuseno instantly looked worried upon seeing Genos being carried, but Saitama assured him that he was fine. He didn’t mention the tree climbing.

He was tempted to stay the night, but Genos was already really tired from the day out. Tussling his hair, he gave him a peck on the forehead and said his goodbyes, promising to be back soon.

That turned out to not be the case, but only because Genos was allowed to go home first. He called Saitama two days later, letting him know he’d be home soon. He sounded so happy, like an excited puppy. He just wanted to stop on the way and shop some stuff, so they could have a nice meal together once he was back.

Saitama never fury-cleaned the apartment with as much intensity as he did that morning.

And then, Genos stood there, wearing that baggy Qseno Tech hoodie and shining like the sun itself. He’d still need frequent checkups for a while and no monster fights for another month, at least, but he was back.

He was back.

”Welcome home,” Saitama smiled at him.

[ellewritesathing]

So Close - S.S. XXXV

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist    Prev. | Part 35

Word-count: 2.9k+

A/N: so it’s a little short but we’re building to some important stuff!! hope you like it

Stiles Stilinski inherited many things from his father, one of which being his love of a good surface to map out his thoughts and clues. Stiles used the clear dry-erase board in his room; Noah used the cork board in his office at the police station. It currently sported a few pages from police reports and photos of Tracy and Lucas. 

“Chimeras,” Noah said. 

“Two dead chimeras,” Stiles said. “Plus eight new ones. So, ten in all.” 

“I’m thinking maybe eleven,” Noah said, pinning a new photo to his current array. A photo of Donovan. 

Stiles' heart rate spiked and you gripped his hand a little tighter.

“Our station tech guys confirmed something for me,” Noah went on as he turned around to face you. “They said both the holding cell lock and cameras could have malfunctioned because of something electromagnetic.” He picked up the book Malia and Kira found in Tracy’s room. “You said that, uh, that’s how these guys got into Eichen?” 

“So you think that makes Donovan one of their chimeras?” you asked. You walked towards Noah and the board to take any attention off Stiles. “But no one’s seen him since that night-” You picked up his red marker that he used to cross out Tracy’s photo “-so they probably killed him just like they killed Tracy.”

Noah caught your hand before you could cross out Donovan’s photo. “We don’t cross him out until I’ve seen a body,” he said. 

“Your board,” you said with a smile. You wanted to fix this but you weren’t sure how, so you settled for trying to get Stiles out of the precinct before he combusted. “Listen, we should probably get going if we’re going to make it to school before the first bell.”

“Of course,” Noah said with a smile. He turned and looked over at Stiles a few feet away; he was looking out the window, biting his nails, and with tense shoulders. “Hey, Stiles, you’re uncharacteristically quiet. What do you think about all this?” 

“Well, these are all teenagers, right?” Stiles said. He turned away from the window and let go of his hands. “So shouldn’t we be trying to figure out why these teenagers? If the Dread Doctors- if they went through all that … burying them, killing them, breaking one of them out of jail … They couldn’t have been chosen at random.”

“So they had to have something in common that made them right for this experiment,” Noah said. 

“Something that made them special,” Stiles said. He caught your eye and took a breath. 

“Well, uh, I’ve kept you kids long enough,” Noah said. “You should get going if you’re gonna make it to school on time.” 

“School,” you repeated, running a hand through your hair. “What a concept.” 

The school day dragged on once you and Stiles split up to go to your classes. The most exciting part of the day was when you tried to print a paper at the library and it was out of ink, and when you looked up you saw Kira slipping out with about a million copies in her arms. 

Those copies came in handy when all your friends gathered in your living room to read Valeck’s book about the Dread Doctors. 

“My mom’s book club usually has more wine,” Lydia said.

“Well, they also probably didn’t read books that cause violent hallucinations,” Stiles said. 

“I’m guessing that’s what the wine’s for,” you said, leaning down to pick up one of the copies. 

“Maybe I should have my mother read it,” Lydia said. She picked up the book and flipped through the pages. “She might remember a girl with a tail leaping off the ceiling and attacking everyone.”

“Yeah, if it works,” Stiles said. 

Lydia’s voice was much smaller when she spoke again. “It has to.”

“What do you mean, Lyd?” you asked, touching her arm lightly. 

She straightened back up and spoke clearly again. “I mean I think I saw them during my surgery. And when I look at the cover of the book … it’s almost like …” 

“A memory trying to surface,” Theo said. 

You still didn’t like having him around but Scott was insistent you trust him, at least for now, so he was here for book club. Even if no one wanted him here.

“Isn’t that what Valeck wanted when he wrote the book?” Kira asked. 

“If they did anything to me,” Lydia said. “I want to know what it is.”

Lydia stormed off, book in hand, to find a place to read while everyone else grabbed a copy off the coffee table. You touched Stiles’ lower back lightly to get his attention as he squinted at the title page and nodded at one of the nearby armchairs. 

The two of you settled in, your head resting on Stiles’ upper bicep and your legs tangled up over the coffee table. Every now and then, Stiles would reach up and run a hand through your hair in an attempt to keep himself focused. Your efforts, on the other hand, weren’t so valiant and you fell asleep somewhere around chapter ten. 

When you woke up again, Stiles coaxed you into helping him make coffee for everyone. You sat on the kitchen island as he worked, making each cup the way each friend preferred - it was sweet. The lack of words made things feel familiar and secret. 

And Theo strolled in. 

“Need any help with that?” he asked. 

“No, we’re, uh- we’re all good, man,” Stiles said, nodding at him over his shoulder. 

Theo nodded and reached his hand out. He said something about understanding and then patted the top of Stiles’ shoulder twice, a bit roughly, before you had the chance to intervene. “Woah, you okay, dude?” he asked when Stiles tensed and muffled a groan. 

“Yeah, I just pulled a muscle,” Stiles lied easily. His heart didn’t falter for a second. “You know how it is with the back-to-school rush.” 

“Right,” Theo said, drawing out the word. It was clear he didn’t believe him but he dropped it, opting to talk to you instead. He turned to you with an attempt at a friendly smile. “So what do you think of the book?” 

“I think if it helps me find the people hurting my friends, then it’s worth it,” you said, sliding off the island and not breaking eye contact. “Because if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that I don’t let anyone hurt my friends.” 

Theo’s smile changed in a way that unsettled you. He dropped his eyes for a second before looking back up at you with a low laugh. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I’m trying so hard to be one of your friends.” 

“Right,” you said. 

“Coffee’s up,” Stiles said, breaking through the tension. “Hey, Theo, if you wanna help, you can go get everyone.”

“Yeah, sure,” Theo said, looking over to give Stiles a smile before heading out of the kitchen. 

Stiles turned to you and mouthed the words ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing’ and you gave him a noncommittal shrug that said you’d do better next time. He rolled his eyes and handed you a mug. “Just drink your coffee and don’t punch anyone,” he said. “Alright? Please.” 

“No promises,” you hummed over the rim of your mug. You took a sip of the coffee and relaxed slightly. “Okay, let’s finish that book.” 

---

School felt more like a dream the next day than anything else, especially with Stiles and Lydia going to the hospital to investigate her repressed memory. You were just going through the motions until someone rushed into your English class asking if anyone had an inhaler. The shock of it grounded you in the real world and you dug through your bag to get Scott’s old inhaler before running for it. 

“Scott?” You pushed through the crowd of students that formed around the door to the biology class. “Scott!” He was leaned up against the desk and wheezing but Scott turned his head to look at you. You dropped to your knees and pressed the inhaler into his hands and up to his lips. “Scotty, you gotta breathe, okay? On three I need you to take a big breath, you understand?” 

Scott nodded and you counted down. When he breathed in, you pressed down on the inhaler and hoped for the best. 

“There we go,” you said gently, pushing back some of the hair on his forehead. “Welcome back to the land of the living. Well, you know what I mean.” 

“Where did you get an inhaler?” Scott asked, deep frown lines still on his forehead. “Wait, is this ... my inhaler?” 

“Someone had to keep it around when you started leaving it at home,” you said, sliding your hand up to his face while the other held onto his neck. It was an asthma attack, not the flu so you weren’t sure why you were checking for a fever but it made you feel better. 

“But I haven’t had an asthma attack in like two years,” Scott said. 

“Yeah, and today you did.” 

“Are you two okay here?” Ms. Finch asked. You looked over at her and forced a smile, hoping that it conveyed your desire to be left alone. “Okay, the rest of you, clear out!”

Even though Scott insisted he was fine, you didn’t want to leave him alone, and when the lights went out later in the day you rushed over to find him. You found him with Theo, both of them coming out of the stairwell that led to the basement. 

Scott explained how Theo came to check on him when the lights went out and they went down to the generator to investigate - the wires were ripped out by another chimera - and now they were trying to get a hold of Malia and Kira. 

“Hey, you okay?” you asked when you saw Malia coming down the stairs. 

“Yeah, we both are. Kira’s still at the library,” she said, nodding over at Theo and Scott. “Where’s the others?”

“Stiles and Lydia are still at the hospital trying to figure out what happened during her surgery,” you said, running your hand through your hair. You’d feel a lot better if they were with you. 

“How long are they gonna be there?” Malia asked. 

“They said they’re just waiting for the power to come back on,” Scott said. 

“Which is why we’re heading there now,” you finished as Theo pushed open the doors to the parking lot. You mumbled a thank you and pushed ahead to the car,

Turns out that wouldn’t be the last interaction you and Theo had; Scott’s plan was for him to find your mom, Malia to find Lydia, and you and Theo to find Stiles. He ignored your protests about splitting up but Theo grabbed your arm and started pulling you towards the elevator. 

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, yanking your hand back to your body. 

“Can’t you smell that?” Theo asked. He took a breath when you stared at him. “Chemo-signals. Stiles’ chemo-signals, specifically. He was here and he was anxious.” 

“He’s always anxious,” you said quietly as Theo punched the button on the elevator. It bothered you that you hadn’t noticed it before. 

You got off at the same floor that Stiles did and followed the smell of his anxiety all the way to the roof. The last time you were up here was when the alpha pack was still terrorizing your friends - you never thought you’d miss that experience. But in that instant you couldn’t miss anything, you were too overwhelmed by the sight of one of the kids in your homeroom class trying to rip off Stiles’ face. 

“Josh?” 

Either Theo didn’t go through the same shock that you did or he just recovered faster. He rushed forward, pulled Josh off of Stiles, and then threw him across the roof. They started fighting amidst all the sparks from the ripped up generator but you didn’t pay any attention as you rushed to check on Stiles. 

“Hey, hey, you okay?” You held his face in yours but he was still staring at Theo and Josh. How many times were you going to find him delirious and covered in blood? “Stiles, can you hear me?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I-” Stiles blinked over your shoulder and looked back over at you. He lifted his hand to your face for a second before pointing over your shoulder. “I think you should go help him.” 

Sparks flew and you lunged over to cover Stiles. They burned your back but you’d heal. By the time it was over and you were back on your feet, Theo was holding onto Josh by the neck. He tore out his throat before you got a chance to stop him. Josh fell to the ground and choked on his blood. 

“Stiles …” Theo took a step forward and you pulled Stiles behind you. Theo looked hurt by the action. “You guys can’t say anything. Please- please, don’t say anything.”

“Why the hell not?” you asked, doing your best to maintain eye contact and not look at the body of your dying classmate. 

“Because I never said anything about Donovan,” Theo said. 

You let go of Stiles’ hand and marched closer, wrapping your other hand around Theo’s neck and pushing him back against the generator. Another mini-explosion of sparks went off as his body collided with the fence, but your hold on his neck didn’t falter. Stiles was right behind you, ducking slightly when the sparks flew but right behind you a second later.

“What did you just say?” you asked. 

Stiles called out your name and started to say something but he got cut off. He put a hand on your lower back, but he was still focused on Theo.

“I know what happened to Donovan,” Theo said. “I know everything.” 

“You don’t know anything,” Stiles told him.  

Theo started struggling under your hand but you gripped tighter, claws coming out to keep him in place. After a shallow laugh he looked over at Stiles. “I was there- at the library.” Stiles nodded at you and you loosened your grip ever so slightly. “Malia found the book. She was texting us to see where you guys were because she said she left the two of you at the library and she hadn’t heard from you since then. I told her I was close by. When I got there, I heard the scaffolding come down.”

Your blood ran cold. That was why she tried to call the other night. If you answered your phone, would you still be in this position now? Would Stiles?

“You saw him?” Stiles asked. 

“Just the body,” Theo said. Stiles rubbed your lower back, a signal to let go, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Theo looked down at your hands for a second before continuing, “I watched you come out. I was gonna say something but then I saw the cop car.” He paused and looked down at where Stiles was holding onto you. “And then the body was gone.” Theo’s eyes drifted back to meet Stiles’. “I don’t know who took him. I only saw what you saw, and I didn’t say anything because you didn’t.” 

You looked over to see what Stiles was thinking but then you heard the sirens. The very familiar sirens of cruisers that belonged to the Beacon Hills Sheriff Department. 

“That’s not an ambulance, is it?” Theo asked. 

Stiles shook his head and started walking away. He needed the movement to think clearly. 

“We need to get out of here,” Theo said, moving against your grip. You pushed him back again and he held out his hands in surrender. 

“I’m not leaving Josh,” you said. 

“Fine, then let’s take him,” Theo said. Stiles spun around to face him. “Someone’s stealing the bodies anyway, right? Here’s our chance to find out who.”

“Stiles, I-” you shifted uncomfortably. “He’s got a point.”

“He killed him,” Stiles said, looking between you and Josh’s body. 

“In self-defense,” Theo said. He looked close to crying. But his heartbeat was steady under your hand. “He was going to kill you and he was going to kill me.” 

“You didn’t even wait for me-” 

“If we stay-” Theo talked over you “-We’re either going to have to tell the truth or we’re going to need a pretty convincing story. It’s your choice.” He looked down at the floor for a second. “I’m not going to ask you to lie to your dad.”

You tried to get Stiles’ attention without saying anything. It was time to come clean. He looked at you for a second but you could see he’d already made up his plan.

“Don’t worry,” Stiles said. “I’ve had plenty of practice.”

“Stiles-” 

He walked over to Josh and was already pulling him up by his jacket. It was jarring to see your boyfriend picking up the dead body of the goofy kid in the back of the class. The blood that ran down his cheeks made you feel sick. 

“If you wanna leave-” Stiles was quieter when he spoke to you but he was still very clearly on edge “-I’m not gonna judge you.”

Reluctantly, you let go of Theo so that you could walk over and pick up Josh’s other side. You caught Stiles’ eye before saying, “I’m not going to leave you.” You hooked Josh’s arm around your shoulders and held him up by his waist.  

Theo took hold of Josh’s other side from Stiles. 

Whether you trusted him or not, you were in this together now.

Part 36

[normal-thoughts-official]

Do you have any headcannons about other things Magnus invented? The tech ask got me thinking about how this man found a way to literally bend space-time to invent the portal so he probably made a bunch of other cool stuff

okay so first of all this ask is absolutely superior it’s so good and sexy and i love it to pieces. second of all, as with all my hc asks that i love to death, it took me so long to answer it, i’m so sorry odiajdoisajdoaisjj 

but anyway YES. i love genius inventor magnus and it’s criminally underdiscussed tbh

first of all, i absolutely believe that magnus figured out a way to transition himself, like - he probably knew about his gender ever since he was a kid, and it’s not like he had a lot of options, so i totally hc that he just. learnt about it on its own. i mean if we go by sh canon that says that magic is a way to perceive the world, it makes sense. he can use it to be more attuned to his own body and slowly learn about how it works. as time goes by he starts to notice the substances that his body produces, their effects on it, and on each other, you know? and that’s how he discovers hormones and how they’re made and how to manipulate them, and so Magnus makes up a way to magically transition like that, which is better than glamours (which is what most trans warlocks/downworlders did, at least before they’ve been officially introduced to the community) because he’s actually changing his body for real. and it’s nice

like, is magnus the first to do this? probably not. but he does figure it all out on his own way before he meets other warlocks and such, so it’s still something that he invented and figured out on his own. plus once he does he probably gets to study what other warlocks have figured out about the subject and make his own contributions to bring what he has and what they know together, and that’s pretty nice

i know i’ve talked about this before but consider this: i wanted to say it again

on that topic! more magical transitioning stuff. with most downworlders having some kind of super healing stuff (and i guess shadowhunters too, with iratzes) i’ve always thought, like, what if they wanted to have surgery after they were Turned? would it grow back? i mean there’s also the fact that they can’t exactly roll into the hospital with their super different blood and want to have surgery, but you know, there’s also that

so i totally think magnus also invented a way to bypass this, because even if it doesn’t directly affect him, he feels for all the trans people who do want surgeries and can’t get it. so he figures out a potion/spell he can use to keep the healing at bay enough to perform surgery, and then kind of like. messes slightly with the magic so it recognizes the new, altered body as the original and doesn’t try to “heal” the boobs/dick back (or yeet them away) once it’s done. and it’s pretty damn revolutionary

i don’t think magnus himself would want surgery because i think his gender is culturally specific anyway and he’s comfortable with his body most of the time, and when he isn’t, he can use glamours. but he still cared enough to do that because that’s how he is

similar but not completely related, i think that magnus and cat were both present during the AIDS crisis, because like, i mean. downworlders with a healing specialty who are queer or close to queer people. and it definitely was a very. bad chapter in their lives with all the horrible things they had to witness and how long it took them, even with magic, to figure out what was causing that horrible disease, but i do think their contributions (and those of other warlocks) were vital to the discovery of the HIV virus and the current methods we have to deal with it

even if magnus will never forgive himself for taking so long to think of something when so many people were dying and he couldn’t even save freddie haha it’s fine i’m fine

also i mean with his specialty being healing magic he probably was a part in learning about and dealing with a good number of diseases, and figured out a lot of potions and spells in that field

he probably designed something to help vampires who are dealing with human blood cravings, cuz i mean - it can get pretty bad and it brings a lot of suffering, and magnus seemed to be very aware of the whole addiction process and stuff in the downworld when there was the whole yin fen plotline. also well his own son battled it (twice) so of course he’d get involved. it’s not by any means a solution because addiction has multiple causes which are mostly psychological and you can’t really battle it without tackling these causes, but still, he can at least bring people who are struggling some kind of relief before they go to a specialist (cuz there are probably lots of downworlders who specialize in that, i mean. many of them faced it) 

oh also ways to detected newly Turned vamps and wolves so they can get to them fast and help them not go through it alone. i think he wouldn’t need it for warlocks because there’s that whole “i know dot is dead because i can’t feel her magic anymore” which implies that they know about every warlock individually so they would know when a warlock is born methinks. it’s also something that he’s tried to keep away from the clave as much as possible, for obvious reasons, but that can help them help out each other in times of need

(i just b like “here are all the ways that magnus helped improve the downworlder community” because 1- it’s canon and we stan; 2- it’s very him; 3- we deserved to see more of the downworlder community organization okay. like what, are they trying to tell us that they’ve all been watching each other suffer and go through these same problems and no one bothered to think of solutions for that? that makes no sense bro. people, especially marginalized people, want to make the world better for each other. in this essay i will-)

it’s also why Magnus is mostly known for the portal, because the clave and such don’t really consider his inventions “useful” because they’re mostly about improving life in the community, and not practical everyday shit like this. but he’s actually invented so much stuff and contributed so much to their society and knowledge okay

also something to cure allergies because he feels really bad for ppl who are allergic to cats lmao he’s the cutest idiot

probably quite a bit of magical sex toys because. well. hobbies. you know

okay that’s all i have methinks doiasjdoiajdsaoijdasj again thank you so much for this ask, i really loved answering it <3 i hope it was worth the wait lmao

[ramblinganthropologist]

N7 Challenge Day 2 - Science

Summary: If you think about it, Shepard is really Cerberus’ fucked up little science project. If Frankenstein’s monster got to complain a little about conditions, then Miranda’s can whine she left some nonessential parts in. 

---

As much as he hated what Cerberus had done with the place... maybe the top floor being his wasn't so bad after all.

Alistair sighed as the door slid shut behind him. Up here, he was finally alone. Nobody was staring at him like he had two heads or was gaping at the fact he should have been 6 feet under or in a jar. Better yet, nobody was asking him how he was going to stop the Collectors from abducting another human colony or what the next move is. Here he could relax and breathe a little.

Breathing... right.

“Ugh...” His shirt dropped to the floor as he examined his appearance in the mirror. There were new bruises, not quite broken ribs. He had been lucky this time according to a bemused Doctor Chakwas. She had told him before to go in for the surgery, but he hadn't gotten the chance before dying. Now...

He prodded his binder in the mirror. “I still have no idea why she kept these. Don't see how having a flat chest would make me any worse.”

Something something, exactly as he was supposed to be? It was bullshit if you asked Alistair. Of course, nobody was asking him. They probably figured it was good enough that he was alive. Why bother dealing with worrying about it, Commander Shepard was alive again.

Commander Shepard was also risking broken ribs every mission, thank you very much. Maybe the magic science bullshit wizards should have considered that when they were putting him back together.

He let both the matter and his binder drop, though one took a bit more effort. After changing, it was back to an oversized hoodie as he settled in to get some work done. On the bright side, he could breathe. Downside... everything else.

Hi, gender dysphoria. Apparently you were crucial to saving humanity or something.

He lost himself to his work, reviewing records and checking on possible colonies, for the better part of an hour. Alistair would have stayed longer – there was plenty of reports to sift through – but someone was knocking at his door. Like, actually knocking and not using their omni-tool to let him know they were there.

So... that narrowed things.

“Be right there, Bo!” His new joints didn't creak as he rose, but there was plenty of time for that. Besides, he made up for that with the glowing exposed implants sticking out of his jaw and forehead. It wasn't a pretty sight – though it may have been improved if he could've hacked the color to blue. As a pink-toned ginger, red was kind of overkill. Besides, blue was his favorite color and they were his damn life sustaining implants. If anyone got to pick the color, it was him.

But... he wasn't allowed to try changing the color. Something about maybe killing him. He had kind of lost focus during that conversation.

Speaking of – the door slid open, revealing his XO on the other side. Bo looked about as comfortable on the new Normandy as he was, and she cast a wary eye around as she entered the room. Then she looked towards the floor, and where his clothing still lay. Her lip curled at the sight of her binder, and he swore he saw murder in her eyes.

“You gotta be kidding me, they didn't deal with that while you were dead?!”

Alistair, despite everything, emphatically groaned. “No, they fucking didn't! I'm pretty sure I've got everything that came with the original hardware!”

They both shared a scowl as Bo took a seat on his bed. As she did, she tossed him her omni-tool. Unsurprisingly, it was broken again. What did catch him off guard was that it was the same model she had been using before he died.

There had to have been easy models between 2183 and 85...

“You've made it idiot-proof, don't think too hard about it.” Bo was still scowling. “Remind me to punch Miranda for her weird little science experiment when I see her again. She spent all that time on you and she couldn't make a few modifications?”

Alistair rolled his eyes as he started to tinker with the omni-tool. “With pleasure. If she could add an eye, I don't see why she couldn't figure out testicles. They didn't even need to work, I don't plan on having children.”

His XO snickered at that. “Not that you could have kids with a turian anyway. Pretty sure even Mordin couldn't get levo and dextro to gel.”

The mere mention of turians caused Alistair's face to turn scarlet. He ducked his head in the excuse of examining the details on the broken omni-tool. The screen was cracked, but he had a replacement for that. Mostly, it just looked like she had knocked the wires loose – probably punched someone a little too hard. His reinforcements probably came loose over two years. Easy fix.

Maybe he should just design a whole new one for her...

“Thinking about Garrus, huh?”

There was a teasing tone to Bo's voice that made his cheeks even redder. Alistair shot her a blank look as he reached for a small device in his toolbox. Even after the Normandy exploded, it was good to know someone had salvaged it.

After all, what would he do without his trusty work vibrator?

“I can't believe you actually still use that.” Bo's tone was flat as she watched him apply the vibration to check for weak spots. “You're such a fucking nerd.”

Alistair snickered as he looked up from his work. “Given what I'm working with -”

“Gross. Please tell me you got another one of those.”

No, but it wasn't like he got a lot of private time given how often he had to fix something or save somebody from certain doom so it was kind of low on his list of priorities. Besides, being zombie Jesus in N7 armor made that kind of purchase... awkward.

Like, who expects the risen Commander Shepard to walk in looking for a vibrator anyway?

“I don't need one for actual use right now, thankfully.” He whistled low once he spotted the problem. “Wow, you sure knocked this one loose. Another centimeter and the whole thing would have been a total loss.”

Bo sighed in relief. “Good thing I didn't hit that one krogan twice then.”

Of course she'd hit a krogan. She was always doing that.

“Next time, just use your biotics.” Alistair shook his head as he started the repairs. Honestly, it wasn't the ideal situation. He had picked his hoodie for size and comfort, but the problem was the sleeves were a little large on him and had a place he could stick his thumb through if he felt like it. Normally that was fine – hiding his hands was a plus sometimes – but it didn't work when he was soldering.

And... ok, maybe a hoodie with hamster ears wasn't the best tech wear.

At least Bo didn't laugh when he rolled up his sleeves and kept working. He didn't mind her presence either as he made sure the wires weren't going anywhere once she started swinging again. Something about having her on his bed, watching him work, was comforting. In a sense, it was home. Though Cerberus had tried, they hadn't quite figured out how to hit that for him in their mad dash to convince him to work for them. Just the fact they had left him a uterus was a black mark they were never getting rid of, the rest was just icing on the shit cake of why he would eventually be stealing their ship and hightailing it back to the Alliance with all their info.

What, Frankenstein's monster caused a little havoc in his day. Wasn't he entitled to do the same? He hadn't exactly been asked to be brought back to save the galaxy.

“Just a little more and -” the screen glowed to life under his hands. “There we go, it's working again!”

Almost immediately, a message started playing. “Commander Shepard, if you could meet me in-”

Shit. He knew that voice. One eye landed on his XO – she had already tensed up. Then there was something about reports needing to be filed and she might have been behind on doing that? Honestly, no surprises there; Bo was analog, so computers tended to break around her. They'd probably been doing it even more with the Cerberus agent on her back about it.

If he wasn't careful, she was going to break the omni-tool, and he was out of spare parts...

“Fuck off, Miranda. I'll get to it once the computer's fixed.”  Bo reached over to shut off the link with surprising delicacy. She must have seen the fear in his eyes and held pity over his rebuilt form. “You think she'd get I hate her.”

He shrugged his shoulders as he started to clean. “Maybe she enjoys having an angry lesbian hating her.”

“Then she should love having a pissed off twink despising her.”

Despise – that was a good word. He'd accept it. It got close enough in his mind to how he actually felt as he swept away the remains of his repair project.  With a clean work space, it was easier to think. Not that it was ever completely easy, but it helped.

Though... did he hear something about a broken computer?

“So do you want me to fix that or what?”

Bo responded by practically picking him up and depositing him on the bed. “I want you to get some fucking sleep. You look like death.”

“I slept for 2 years-”

“Then a few more hours won't bother you.” She shot him a look. “You can't fix everything. It'll be there when you get up.”

Alistair wanted to argue, but it was impossible. When Bo got like that, he didn't stand a chance. Most times, he didn't even try. Mostly he was just annoyed she had picked him up like he was his own damn hamster.

He was a fully grown man, damn it...

“Alright, I'll swing by when I wake up.”

Bo nodded and started to retreat. “See you when you do. I'm going to go punch Miranda in the face for the uterus bullshit.”

Honestly, he wasn't sure if she was being serious as the door closed around him and the light dimmed. EDI had probably been listening in by then. It kept him from having to get up as he pulled off his hoodie and crawled under the blanket.

That was something else he would have to see to when he woke up. In a weird way, it was ironically appropriate. After all, Miranda's monster was going to have to go save Miranda from the angry villagers.

That, or Miranda's monster could just sleep a little longer. Being brought back from the dead was exhausting work. Maybe a nap wasn't such a bad idea after all...

[mischiefandspirits]

Who is Iron Man?

After a three month imprisonment by terrorists, child genius Tony Stark was rescued by an unknown entity. Who is this Iron Man? The world wants to know.

SI Founder Found Dead

By Kate Mallory - December 17, 2009

Today we mourn the loss of a technological superstar.

Last night, a car accident took the life of Stark Industries founder and CEO Howard Stark (age 87) as well as his wife Maria (age 79) and daughter Amanda (age 34). The family was reportedly on their way to the airport for a vacation in the Bahamas when, according to police representatives, one of their car’s tires blew out causing the vehicle to crash into a tree on the side of the road. Howard and Maria were pronounced dead on arrival while Amanda died en route to the hospital.

As Amanda was an only child and never married, the family is survived solely by her son, child genius and media rascal Anthony “Tony” Stark (age 8). A sudden illness had sprung up that morning, causing him to need to stay home with a family friend and saving him from the deadly crash.

Questions have begun to rise up over the future of both Stark Industries and the young Stark, but SI has only given a quick statement before closing all lines of communications for the time being. The statement, in short, revealed that Stark Industries COO Obadiah Stane would be taking over as CEO temporarily until Stark’s will can be seen to. Likewise, young Tony is set to remain with the mentioned unnamed family friend until such time.

Read on for a full obituary and discussion on what this could mean for the future of Stark Industries >>

BREAKING NEWS: A Stark Disappearance

By Tech-miss - January 26, 2011

A late-night posting, I know, but I’ve got big news, readers! A leak from within Stark Industries has just revealed that the company’s prized heir is currently MIA on the other side of the planet.

Two days ago, Tony Stark had been in Afghanistan for a demonstration of the Jericho Missile -- a revolutionary missile system utilizing SI’s repulsor tech -- when the military convoy escorting him fell under attack. When backup arrived, many of the soldiers were either dead or injured while Stark was nowhere to be found. A team has already been formed for search and rescue, headed by Colonel James Rhodes: USAF officer, military liaison to SI, and friend of Stark’s.

That was all the leak was willing to say, but requests have already been flooding in for further comments from the airforce, SI, and Stark’s legal guardian Obadiah Stane so I’ll be sure to update you all the moment I get more information!

Comment down below with your thoughts and theories my fellow techies!!!

The Child of Death Back From the Dead

By Ryan Prince - May 2, 2011

The business and technology worlds are in a stir today and unsurprisingly it’s all due to Tony Stark.

The nine-year-old returned to the states today after having been rescued less than a week earlier from his three-month imprisonment at the hands of the Ten Rings terrorist organization. True to form, he immediately made a scene.

Mere moments after Stark was reportedly supposed to have stepped off his plane, his minder and personal assistant Virginia “Pepper” Potts reached out to the Stark Industries public relations department to call together a press conference for Stark. Bolts&Blogs was on the list and I was lucky enough to be free to represent the site even with the short notice.

Stark opened the conference without the usual flare that has become his signature over the past year, though he did start it by sitting down in front of the podium with a cheeseburger and asking everyone to join him on the floor. He explained it away as an attempt to make everything less formal, but the boy was (justifiably) visibly exhausted by recent events.

Little information has been revealed about Stark’s imprisonment, but it’s hard not to imagine what he might have gone through and his appearance only makes it worse. He was thin with malnourishment and the rush makeup job he had gotten hadn’t managed to completely cover the bruises across his face or his sunburned flush. One of his arms was tucked into a sling and his artfully styled hair was now long and limp. There was also a seriousness about him that looked alien on the formerly excitable and mischievous boy.

Once everyone but those operating cameras had sat, Stark then proceeded to greet his legal guardian, Stark Industries CEO Obadiah Stane (Why Stane hadn’t been at the airport to greet his ward sooner is unknown at this time), before setting into a monologue about his grandfather, the late founder of Stark Industries Howard Stark (More information here). He wondered over what Howard had thought about the company, if he had doubts or was as confident in everything he did as the news painted him.

He then mentioned the soldiers from his escort that had died due to, as reports have hinted, Stark Industries made weaponry, stating that the company had “grown from arming the knights into arming the dragons.”

When questioned about what had happened in Afghanistan, Stark answered as such:

“I had my eyes opened. I came to realize that I have more to offer this world than just making things that blow up. I know I have no power to change the company until I’m legally declared an adult and can claim my inheritance, so that is why, effective immediately, I am leaving the weapons manufacturing division of Stark Industries until such a time as I am capable of deciding what the future of this company will be, what direction it should take and is consistent with the highest good…”

Whatever more he had to say was lost as Stane escorted him off the stage into Potts’ waiting grasp. The man, despite his ever-present smile, had clearly been caught off guard by his ward’s statement and quickly concluded the conference.

As anyone who knows anything about technology could tell you, nothing worth talking about comes out of Stark Industries without the tiny fingerprints of the company’s resident genius on it, which begs the question of what this means for their weapons department? Will they still be able to stay ten steps ahead of their competitors without Stark’s designs? Where will Stark’s focus go now as Stark Industries has always been first and foremost a weapons manufacturer? I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.

[Subscribe] to Bolts&Blogs for the most up to date information from the world of technology and feel free to join the discussion down below!

Hidden Hero

By Tech-miss - June 27, 2011

New information has come out regarding Tony Stark’s rescue, readers, and it’s a doozy.

For starters, it wasn’t the USAF that did the rescuing.

According to the report published early this morning, an “unknown entity” (Let’s call him Uno) launched an attack on a Ten Rings base which the air force later realized was being used to hold Stark as well as a second unnamed prisoner (aka Doc) who had been brought in to treat the injuries he’d gained during his kidnapping. Uno then staged a rescue, freeing Stark and Doc before destroying the base. Afterwards, they watched over the two until a USAF chopper began to close in, at which time they took off and disappeared.

As far as anyone can tell from the report, the USAF doesn’t appear to have any idea who the rescuer is. Stark apparently didn’t have a clue and if Doc did, we’ll never know as he, unfortunately, fell unconscious shortly after being picked up due to wounds he received protecting Stark and died not long after while in surgery.

Of course that means theories abound. Everything from a secret SI black ops team to the stereotypical ALIENS!!!! have flooded the forums. I’m particularly interested in one such theory that posits Captain America was the one to save them, if only because all the OP said to justify it was “Cap could do it!!!!!” and I find that hilarious.

Hopefully, we’ll get some more information soon. Here’s hoping Zombie Cap didn’t save Stark for his brains.

Comment down below with your thoughts and theories my fellow techies!!!

Who is Iron Man?

By CamicsComics - October 27, 2011

Hey there CamComs! Today’s post is going to be different from my usual stuff, but that’s because we’ve got confirmation that a real-life superhero is flying around!

Some background that you might be missing if you live under a comic book-lined rock like I do: Five months ago child celebrity and genius Tony Stark was rescued by an unknown person after he’d been kidnapped in Afghanistan. If you’re wondering who would think sending a nine-year-old into an active war zone is a fine idea like I was, then I’ve got two words for you: attempted murderer. But we’ll get to that.

Theories have flown about regarding who might have saved him, and today the world got its answer.

Well, at least we got his alias.

See, while the kid was in Afghanistan he found out his company’s weapons had ended up in the hands of the very guys who were keeping him prisoner. Since most of the weapons were his own designs, the kid understandably decided to leave the weapons business. Honestly, the kid shouldn’t have been there in the first place, but again, his legal guardian was super sketch.

Said guardian was Obadiah Stane. He’d been a partner to Stark’s grandfather Howard Stark and took over as CEO after the man’s death. He’d allegedly been a pseudo uncle to Stark’s mother so people said it made sense the man was given guardianship. Apparently those people never considered the millions of stories about evil uncles killing off their nephews to become king.

Honestly, from what I’ve read, I’m surprised Colonel James Rhodes wasn’t given custody. The guy was friends with Stark’s mother, had a rapport with his grandparents, and is still close with Stark.

Stane had never even met Stark until he was given custody!

I’m getting off track though.

Today during a press conference, Stark revealed that he’s been looking into the dirty weapons. A few days ago, his assistant Pepper Potts found evidence on Stane’s computer that not only has Stane been dealing under the table, but he had put a hit out on Stark. When Stane realized he’d been found out, he decided to finish the job. He attacked Stark and nearly killed him before using an experimental piece of SI technology to try to kill Potts and the agents (they didn’t say who the agents were with, just that they were agents) that had accompanied her to arrest Stane.

Which brings us to the reason for this post.

Apparently the person who had rescued Stark from Afghanistan had been looking into the weapons too and arrived at the mansion Stane and Stark shared just in time to save Stark. Using information the boy gave him, he then flew over to SI to take down Stane.

And yes, I did mean flew. Because this mysterious person the media had dubbed Iron Man is exactly what you’d expect from a name like that. He’s got a high tech suit of armor that can fly and shoot lasers!!! Like I said real-life superhero! Not only that, but he’s got a team of robots to back him up.

Don’t believe me? Look it up! Stark leaked pictures online of said Iron Man taking down Stane to prove he’s not just some kid telling stories, which was quickly followed up by a bunch of different people posting their own pics all over social media to back him up.

When questioned on Iron Man’s identity, Stark refused to comment. However, he did admit that the rumors about Iron Man being his bodyguard were false.

“Although IM came to Afghanistan for me, it was because he’s was a good friend and not because he was being paid as some rumors have suggested. Also, any and all rumors that I created the suit or bots are not only untrue, but also super insulting. The suit is a work of art straight from IM's genius mind and he deserves all the praise for it.”

Of course, people picked up on the “good friend” comment when it comes to trying to figure out the man behind the suit. A theory that Col. Rhodes was Iron Man seemed the most likely as he is close to Stark, headed the search and rescue unit, and graduated MIT with degrees in engineering and physics. However, as some have pointed out, there are photos and videos showing Rhodes with Stark and Potts during the fight between Stane and Iron Man.

That’s it for the past, but what about the future?

For Iron Man’s future, it seems like he’s going to be working with the US military to track down all the dirty SI weapons. For little Stark, things are still up in the air.

Since his legal guardian is out of the picture and he has no living relatives, there is some debate on where he’ll go. Both Rhodes and Potts are trying to get custody. I’ve covered the good on Rhodes, though I should point out his position as SI’s military liaison does put him in an awkward place. Potts is in a similar position as she’s currently Stark’s employee. That said, there’s no denying Potts knows how to take care of him as she basically became his nanny after Stane took control and shifted her from her former position (the PA to the CEO) to being Stark’s PA and minder, which basically means she took care of the paperwork aspect of his job, made sure he was on time for appointments, got him to eat and go to bed, kept him out of trouble, and other such things his legal guardian should have been doing instead of plotting to kill a nine-year-old.

She’s also clearly fond of the kid. There are pictures all over of her and the kid together and even at her most scolding she never really seems to be angry with him (such as in these pictures from a gala where Stark apparently decided to set off a CONTROLLED EXPLOSION!?!?! “For some entertainment”! And apparently this is typical behavior? No one’s ever been hurt, but seriously kid?). In fact, she’s often caught indulging in his more playful mischief (such as these pics that show the two of them dancing at the recent Firefighter's Family Fund benefit where Stark apparently gate-crashed his own party).

We also know she has no fear telling off her boss no matter what considering we’ve got multiple sources to prove that the reason the woman got her job in the first place was because she -- and I’m not kidding here -- forced her way into Howard Stark’s office back when she was just a financial jocky to make him correct an error he’d made on some paperwork. She’d earned a face-full of pepper spray, a job, and a nickname for her bravery, the last courtesy of Tony Stark himself.

Well, sweet CamComs, as much as I’d love to keep talking about this, unfortunately, that’s all I got for now. I’ll be keeping a close eye on Iron Man and Stark (because there’s zero chance that kid won’t get caught up in something again. Heck, maybe he’ll even build his own suit and become the hero’s sidekick. Seems right up the kid’s alley) and keep you updated, but unless something else happens, I’ll be back to my usual content on Tuesday.

Subscribe, like, and share, CamComs! Until next time, be the hero you want to see in the world!

Iron Tweet

By Ryan Prince - November 12, 2011

Does the mysterious superhero Iron Man have a Twitter? It would seem so!

Two days ago, @1r0n_M4n opened with the name 0111 01 1011. At first glance, one might think it was just a fan account, but the accounts first Tweet -- “Is this how I do it @ Tony?” -- was not only liked by Tony Stark, Virginia “Pepper” Potts, and Col. James Rhodes, but Stark also replied to it with “Yeah, but you actually have to use my thing, @1r0n_M4n”. Rhodes followed suit with “Was Iron Man spelled out normally seriously taken already?” and Potts responded with “Yes, but @1r0n_M4n wanted it spelled like that to begin with.” By that point, many had taken notice of the account and it only increased when the account became verified late last night.

While the account has since been flooded with questions about the hero and suit, none have been answered. However, when someone jokingly asked for help with a math homework problem, Iron Man responded with a picture of the problem worked out. This began a slew of people asking for Iron Man’s help with their varying homework problems until Potts spoke up with “@1r0n_M4n you can’t just do people’s homework for them. They need to learn how to do it themselves.” Iron Man immediately apologized and afterward only responded to such tweets with links to varying sites that proved to have useful information for whatever the problem might be. While most gave up afterward, some --usually college-age -- continued to request assistance with grateful thanks afterward.

The account currently has 500k+ followers and growing, but only follows six accounts. Stark, Potts, and Rhodes are obvious, but people have become curious over the other three: @GirlFriday, @Uuuuuuuuuu, and @DUM_E.

@GirlFriday (named F.R.I.D.A.Y.) appears to be a graphic artist. The account boasts no personal tweets, but many designs have been posted, some of which are said to have been sold to different companies. A few Stark Industries logos have even been found on the site, including the current one.

@Uuuuuuuuuu’s (named U) account consists entirely of retweeted music videos with genres ranging from classical to rap with the only comments being a sad or happy emoji for each to apparently give the account owner’s approval or disapproval.

@DUM_E (named Butterfingers) is a more wildcard account. It mostly consists of retweeted recipes and cooking videos, but there are also links to recipes on what appears to be @DUM_E’s own personal cookbook website as well as original cooking videos featuring far less appetizing mixtures (such as the one which features what appears to be motor oil being blended with strawberries, a banana, and almond milk). This seems to be the most curious account though as it is the only one with personal comments, though they are all coded in an odd mix of binary and morse code. Most of the comments either review recipes they’ve tried out or complain of annoying brothers and sisters without giving any names, but that’s not the curious part.

You see, those that put in the effort to decode @DUM_E’s comments realized that the same code was used for @1r0n_M4n’s name. Translated it reads Jay. Although that’s not much to go on, it is more than we had before. That’s not all though, because people have compared pictures from Stark’s workshop to screenshots from @DUM_E’s videos and website to show that the videos were filmed at the kitchenette in the lab. This has led some to believe the account might be a “shitpost” account of Stark’s, though others have argued that the comments about siblings wouldn’t make sense for him. When questioned, @DUM_E responded with a pair of tweets that, when translated, read, “Tony could not make good food like me.” and “If I didn’t make him food and bring it to him, he’d never eat.”

Before anyone else could respond, @1r0n_M4n added, “The recipes in @DUM_E’s videos are his more experimental ones and @TStark rarely partakes in them. @DUM_E usually feeds him the recipes from his site.”

Stark’s Twitter was immediately bombarded with questions of which of the video recipes fell into the “rarely” column, which Stark refused to reply to. Rhodes, however, posted a none too subtle tweet a short time later about how Tony and he agreed motor oil tasted better with bananas than chocolate.

Who could these mystery accounts belong to and how are they connected to Stark and Iron Man? How are Iron Man and Stark connected in the first place? Could these mystery accounts be the key? How many times has Stark eaten motor oil? Time will tell.

[Subscribe] to Bolts&Blogs for the most up to date information from the world of technology and feel free to join the discussion down below!

[the--sad--hatter]

Phantom Pain (11)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader 

WARNINGS - Bad Habits and Rough Sex, Angsty and Dark AF. 

DESCRIPTION -  Everybody in the world knew of you, but not who you really were. Some called you a vigilante, some called you a criminal and some called you a hero but all of them called you The Phantom. Only two people knew your real identity and they swore to never tell anyone but when The Avengers need to infiltrate a high-security facility, Bruce Banner deduces that you’re the only one who can pull it off. That decision puts you and Bucky Barnes on a path you can’t turn back from, even if neither of like where it’s leading.

Series Masterlist

Chapter Eleven - The Widow and The Queen 

“Uncle Thaddy, the board are worried. Isn’t there some way we can keep people from finding out that daddy’s Hydra?” You begged.

“With all due respect, you can’t keep this wrapped up just because your niece doesn’t want to lose her inheritance.” Natasha said.

You threw her a dirty look.

“Miss Romanov this does not concern you, this is a family matter.” Ross snapped.

“King inc makes weapons for the government as well, even The Avengers have used the automatic machine guns made by the company. It is my business and I don’t think we can cover this up.” Natasha retorted calmly.

“Why do people have to know? Can’t we say that daddy’s taking a sabbath or something?” You whined petulantly.

“Sabbatical, the word you’re looking for is sabbatical. And sooner or later people will wonder why Alexander King has disappeared.” Natasha informed you coldly.

“Let them wonder, it’s better than them knowing we’re related to a traitor. My Uncle is a highly respected member of parliament...”

“There’s no parliament in the US.”

“... and he can’t have people knowing about this and I’m... well I’m innocent! I don’t want people thinking I’m not! I’ll tell people Daddy is sick or he had an accident of had to get surgery, we can hire an actor to play him.” You shrieked.

Ross looked thoughtful under his wincing at your sheer volume.

“As you said Miss Romanoff, we all have ties to Alexander King and it will reflect badly on us all. It would be best for everybody if nobody were to find out about this.” Ross said.

“Do you have an idea Uncle Thaddy?” You asked hopefully.

“I do, let me take care of it. You just go back to... whatever it is you do and let me handle it.” He ordered, turning away and dismissing you.

Natasha shot you a discreet wink.

“Think he’ll take the bait?” She asked once you were back in the car.

“He’s never had an original thought, he grabs on for dear life to other people’s wise ideas and convinces himself he came up with it. He’ll take the bait.” You assured her.

“You don’t think much of your family do you Koroleva?”

“You’ve met my father and my uncle? Are you impressed?” You rebutted.

“Not with them.”

“Speaking of my father, can you do me one more favour?”

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

There was no awkward getting to know each other stage with Natasha, it went from only having spoken once to being friends. She appreciated your penchant for manipulation and you appreciated her... everything. Mostly her access to secure government buildings and her willingness to exploit that on your behalf.

“You look awful.” You said, smirking gleefully at your father.

He smirked back across the metal table at you and twisted his hands in the cuffs attaching him to it.

“My sweet daughter, I admit, I didn’t think you would be the one to betray me.” He said conversationally, as if you were talking about something nice like the weather.

“It’s always the one’s you least expect.” You told him.

“Your whole life, I thought you were a bitter disappointment and you finally manage to impress me, by turning on me.”

“I’ve always found that impressing people I don’t respect at all is just not important to me.” You retorted calmly.

“Perhaps if you had shown me this side of you sooner, we would have been closer.” He chuckled in amusement.

“Perhaps if you weren’t evil I would have actually tried to be closer to you.”

“You don’t believe this nonsense about me being Hydra do you? You’re being manipulated by Tony Stark and The Avengers.” He insisted casually, leaning back with a smug expression.

“They are, we would like to make the new armour piercing bullets standard issue. I trust the cost will not be an issue Mr King?”

“Not at all, I can funnel enough funds from the company to cover it. Hail Hydra.”

The recording echoed through the room clearly and you resited the urge to wave at Natasha through the one sided glass as your father sat forward with a snarl.

“What did you do?” He hissed.

“Slipped a bug into your pocket, gave The Avengers all my security codes, cancelled the detonation you set.” You listed off.

“You little bitch. You thought that if you helped them you could have the company, is that it? You don’t get my shares unless I’m dead. I’ll change my will, I’ll order the board not to let you near the company ever again, you’ll lose everything!”

“You’re not going to be able to speak to the board, you’re not going to be able to speak to anybody. You’re going to spend the rest of your life in a tiny, damp, dark cell. I’d say I’ll visit but I am a King, my word means nothing.” You said, standing up.

“You haven’t won, you are in over your head. I will ruin you for this!” He called after you as you opened the door.

Natasha was waiting for you in the hallway and she grinned savagely at your father through the door.

“The King is dead, Long live the Queen.” She said and shut the door on him.

“Miss King, we need you to come with us.” Two guards said and you shot Natasha a confused look.

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

Back when he was young, before the war he’d have called the way he was acting now ‘Doll-Dizzy’. But no matter what he did, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. Your laughter would echo in his head every few moments, or the way your hips moved when you waked would play in his mind.

He gave in to it and let himself remember the way you’d teased him when he threatened to spank you, and if Steve hadn’t called at that precise moment...

His heart hammered in his chest when he thought about the look of sheer desperation and longing on your face when you’d asked him to kiss you and they way you’d held on to him when he did. You’d tasted like heaven and your soft lips had moved in perfect synchronicity with his.

But it wasn’t real, it had been a crutch. Something you needed in the moment, you’d said so yourself. You didn’t want him, no matter how much you flirted with him. Flirting was just something you did with everyone, even the way you teased Stark was flirtatious.

He’d been warned that you were a heartbreaker and he knew this was going to end badly but he couldn’t help himself.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked loudly from the doorway of your bedroom.

“Making sure she feels at home.” Bucky didn’t look up from his task while he answered.

“You hoping she decides to stick around Barnes?” Sam teased.

Bucky looked Sam in the eye.

“Yes.”

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

“Princess, are you alright?” Tony demanded, bursting into the interrogation room.

You raised your head off your cuffed hands on the table and shot him a dirty look.

“They know I’m The Phantom. I’ve been arrested for breaking the Accords.” You snarled.

“No, you haven’t. They have no proof. I can fix this, Romanoff is working on it.” He assured you with a false sense of bravado.

“Actually, this is going exactly as I planned.” Natasha said as she opened the door and walked into the room.

As Tony turned around to look at her you phased your hands through the cuffs and reached over to snap them onto his wrists.

“Sorry Stark, you brought this on yourself.” Natasha told him as he struggled with the cuffs.

“Alright ladies, if you wanted to have me tied...”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” You warned.

“Consider this practice for what happens if anyone figures out that you broke the Accords you forced on us.” Natasha said coldly.

“I don’t really have a reason for doing this.” You said brightly, snapping a photo of Tony’s furious expression.

“Alright, very funny. You do realise I can get out of these right?” He said cockily.

“Good luck, there’s not a single piece of tech in this room so you’ll have to break out the old fashioned way. Should only take you a few hours.” Natasha informed him.

“Oh, there’s one piece of tech. The speakers.” You said evilly as Natasha pressed a button on a device she pulled from her pocket.

“Agadoo doo doo push pineapple shake the tree” Blared through the room, almost masking Tony’s enraged yelling as you and Natasha closed the door and left him alone.

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

“You! You can stay. Your man West can cook and your cat has been nearly made Cap cry at least three times already today.” Sam Wilson said as soon as you walked into the common room.

“So you only want me for my connections?” You asked him, holding your hands up to your heart dramatically like he’d wounded you.

He snorted in amusement.

“Please, that ship has sailed. As in you and Barnes sailed away on that ship.” Sam said, grinning to show there was no hard feelings.

You shifted uncomfortably. Yes, Bucky had kissed you after you had asked him to, yes it had been absolutely breathtaking but...

“I don’t date. There’s nothing between me and Bucky.” You said with a tone of finality.

“You might want to go to your room and tell him that...”

You shot an alarmed look at Sam and hurried away to see what he was talking about, his laughter following you. You burst dramatically into your temporary room and did a double, nay a triple take. The first shocking thing was that the furniture had been replaced with your own from your penthouse, Bucky currently putting your books onto your bookshelves. The second shocking thing was Frank, who was perched on Bucky’s shoulder and purring.

“Uhhhh” You said intelligently.

“Where have you been all day?” Bucky asked, looking a little annoyed.

“I went to King Inc and apparently fell through a portal to an alternate dimension where I live here now and my cat isn’t a violent lil asshole.” You answered.

“You have bruised ribs, Hydra might actually be after you for real this time. You can’t just leave without telling me.” He said, dropping Frank onto your couch and walking towards you.

“Let’s get something straight half metal jacket, I can do whatever the hell I want.” You snapped.

“Yes, you can. But I can worry about you.” He snapped back.

His fingers brushed the bottom of your shirt and he paused, standing there waiting for something. You figured it was permission and nodded. He lifted your shirt up, exposing your ribs.

They were still bruised but not badly, Bruce’s painkillers and healing medications had been working wonders all day. You bit down on a smile as you realised how worried he had been about you.

“Why is all my stuff here? I’m not staying.” You said softly.

“I’ll move it back when you leave, I just thought you might be more comfortable with your own stuff here.”He explained, his fingers still brushing experimentally over your ribs.

You damn near swooned and he mistook it for you being in pain because he snatched his hand back.

“We need to talk about some things.” He said.

“Yeah, we do.” You agreed.

“How did you become The Phantom?” He asked.

“I’m sorry I made you kiss me.” You said at the exact same time.

You both paused and looked at each other awkwardly. He could have brushed over your admission, he could have apologised, he could have agreed or disagreed or done a million other things. What he decided to do was lean in until his lips were a breath away from yours.

“You didn’t make me do anything.” He whispered hoarsely.  

Your breaths were shallow as you closed your eyes and waited for him to press his lips against yours but it didn’t happen. He stepped back and you opened your eyes, a red tinge of embarrassment spreading across your skin. His eyes hungrily drank in the sight of the blush and he smirked cockily at you.

“It was just a kiss Domniţă, there’s no need to make a big deal out of it.”

But it was a big deal to him, and your reaction made him sure that you thought so as well. Which meant he could get you to ask him again. Because he wasn’t going to kiss you unless you asked. He’d flirt, he’d woo you and seduce you but he wouldn’t touch you until you begged him to.

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

Agadoo is the single most annoying song I know and the idea of Nat and Reader locking Tony in a room with it blasting on repeat gives me so much joy.

Side note, what are your thoughts on Clintasha? Pepperoni? There's obviously got to be other ships in the story and I want your guys input on what you like/don't like.

You can ask to be added to or removed from tags at any time folks, just comment or inbox :D @drdorkus @gravedollie666 @sadsoldat @bigplantdaddy @moodyruth @likes-to-smell-books @shirukitsune @inquisitor-selvala  @myfandomlife-blog @markusstraya @adeleoctobre @vajeenparty @sexyvixen7  @love-nakamura  @buckitybarnes @littledeadrottinghood @pinkisokay @jsmith509 @brownlee-22 @angieptt  @thosesexytexasboys @liveonce-sodoitright @tarastudiesalot @spnrvt @dahkness @dilaila95 @rororo06 @mizzzpink @release-the-cathyrchkn @thefridgeismybestie  @fairislesheets​ @strangersstranger​ @life-wanderer​​ @uuuuuuuuggggghhh​​ @curiositykilledthepepe @musingpredilection  @boxofteenageideas @thelostallycat @demonlover87 @cutie1365

[theblueskyphoenix]

Grid Ghost Chapter 4: Treatments

“And you’re positive Sycorax will be able to succeed in this treatment plan for his tumor?” Kim asked, her arms crossed, leaning against a table.

“Of course.” Liv smiled, her arms folded behind her back. “We have all the medical tools and advances needed. However, it is still an experimental treatment so your husband will be very much a trial run. But we promise, we will treat him well. You’ve been looking for answers and you’re willing to do whatever it takes, right?”

Kim glanced to the side. 

“I… I suppose… You promise he will be safe?”

Liv nodded.

“I do. He’ll be treated very well under our care. You want him to live a good long healthy life right?”

“Yes…”

“Then please, let us take him into our hands and give him that life he deserves.”

Yeah… Sure. More like “Give him to us so we can have a lab rat because of how special his condition is but oh no don’t worry he’ll be treated like a king.” Please…

Trina never could forget the day her father was taken from her. Her mother never knew that she had eavesdropped on her conversation with Liv. She usually respected her mother’s privacy with clients but… this one was an exception.

Liv just didn’t feel right to her. The look in her eyes, the way she carried herself, how she spoke to others, it all felt so fake to her. If Trina didn’t know better she would think the woman was some kind of alien trying to pose as a human with how she acted.

And that’s where I have to stop watching too many sci-fi movies before bed.

Trina shook her mind of it, focusing on the moment at hand. 

Now was not the time to be bitter. It was a time to be happy.

Trina stood outside the door of a patient room, a basket that contained an assortment of goodies held tightly to her chest, Takashi standing next to her. 

“Do you think we should come back later?” she asked. “I mean, maybe we should wait till all the surgery stuff is done.”

Takashi placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“You can give him something to look forward to after the surgery stuff is over. Besides, you’ve wanted to see him for over a year now. Do you want to wait longer?”

“No… just…” Trina lowered her head. “… Call me nuts I’m just… worried he wouldn’t want to see me right now. Liv always rubbed me the wrong way and I just worry what she did to his head. What if… he doesn’t remember me?”

Takashi’s look turned gentle, bringing her into a side hug.

“I doubt that’s the case. Who could forget someone as awesome as you?”

Trina giggled.

“Taka…”

“I mean it. But, it’s up to you if you want to see him now.”

Trina looked at the door again, pondering for a moment before giving a nod.

“Let’s say hi.”

They both moved forward, Takashi knocking on the door.

“Come in.” 

Trina’s heart skipped a beat at hearing her father’s voice. The most she had been able to hear of it in recent times was old videos her mother had recorded, be it him doing things on his own time or when he was spending time with her or listening to old voicemails on her phone. 

Trina took a deep breath before opening the door, entering the room, Takashi behind her. 

Her eyes were wide as she beheld Obake. While his hair was different in how it was styled and he was a little on the paler side, there was no questioning it was her father. Especially with the red streak in his hair that she knew all too well. 

Obake’s eyes were wide too as he stared back at Trina. It was the real Trina. The daughter he had raised for over ten years. The daughter he spoiled to the moon and back.

My Little Star…

“H… Hi…” Trina whispered, moving closer to the bed.

“Hello…” He said, sitting up a little. 

Trina swallowed hard, trying her best to keep it together.

“It’s…. It’s been awhile…” Trina fumbled with the basket in her hands, lowering her head a little. “You… remember me… right?”

Obake tipped her chin up, his eyes glassy with tears.

“How could I ever forget my Little Star?”

Trina smiled, biting her lip.

“Daddy…”

She set the basket down, bringing her arms as gently as she could around Obake, huddling close to him.

“Oh, Daddy! It’s really you!” She cried out, burying her face into his shoulder.

Obake hugged her as tightly as he could, running his hand through her hair. 

“Trina…”

She really is alive… My dear daughter…

He took in everything he could from this moment. Her warmth, the softness of her hair, the tenderness of her embrace… He had forgotten what this actually felt like. He had moments with the bot version of his daughter but… nothing could ever replace what he was feeling right now.

Obake rested his head against hers, sighing happily. 

“I’m home…”

Trina nodded, nuzzling him.

“You are… You really are.”

She pulled back away from him gently, cupping his face in her hands. 

“Sorry just… I’m just so happy to see you again.”

Obake smiled gently, placing his hands over hers.

“I think I can understand how you feel entirely.” He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. 

Trina giggled, keeping close.

“I never stopped looking for you. I promised that no matter what would happen, I would always keep looking for you.”

“Oh, Trina…”

Trina smiled.

“What would I be without my partner in crime?”

Obake chuckled, cupping one her cheeks in his hand.

“An amazing young lady. Least, I think so.”

Trina leaned into his hand.

“Dad…”

They embraced each other again for a moment before Trina pulled away, picking up the basket she had brought in.

“I know you can’t eat for a bit because surgery reasons but I got your favorites in here along with get better food for when you can. Packets of miso soup, bottled water, chocolate and, courtesy of Takashi over there, freshly baked mini blueberry scones.”

Obake looked over to Takashi, who was currently leaning against a wall in the room. He gave a small wave, along with a sheepish look.

“Trina said it would make a good first impression… Also, your wife and Shaylin said you deserved better than that scone you had stashed in your backpack.”

Obake rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I suppose they’re right… Well, thank you. I look forward to eating all of this once I’m in the clear from surgery.” Obake set the basket on the side table next to his bed before looking back to Takashi. “Though, I wouldn’t mind a proper introduction.”

Takashi gave a bow.

“Takashi Sky. I’m Shaylin’s eldest son. Trina and I have been buddies for about a year now.”

“Yep.” Trina smiled. “We bonded over martial arts. He’s my…” She giggled, putting her hands together. “Senpai~!”

Obake brought a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh too hard.

Takashi chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, yes, she’s my good little kohai. She can totally kick anyone’s butt though.”

“That’s my girl.” Obake smiled. “Thank you for being a good friend to her, Takashi. Oh, and you have made a good first impression.”

“Awesome.” Takashi grinned.

Trina smiled, taking one of Obake’s hands into hers. 

“Really glad to have you back, Dad. We got a lot to catch up on.”

Obake smiled, squeezing her hand.

“And I look forward to hearing every last bit of it.”

oooooo 

“I’m going to kill that devil woman the next time I see her.” Kim growled, her eyes narrowed.

She and Shaylin were looking over Obake’s charts and treatment plans that were on his USB via Kim’s computer. They detailed everything they needed to know about his implant and how to go about handling it along with his tumor. It disgusted both Kim and Shaylin how the implant worked and what it had been doing to Obake for the past year.

“I’m in line right behind you.” Shaylin said, her own eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid to know what she would’ve done to Takashi if I had let her get near him when I called her in for opinions on his condition.”

“Poke, prod, see what makes him tick and I dunno, maybe turn him into her pet.” Kim sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I honestly don’t know anymore. I already had a low opinion of her as it were, now it’s hit to levels of words I would never say in front of my daughter.”

“Si, si.” Shaylin shook her head. “Well, we can plan to murder her reputation later. Right now, we need to help Bob.” Shaylin turned her attention to his surgery notes. “So, we can’t dismantle the implant. It’s too embedded into the skull and would be risky to remove. So, instead, we’re reprogramming it to work to his advantage and deactivating the shock collar function.” Shaylin raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised he wants the thing to still be active at all, though.”

“Well, seeing as it could act as an aid to keep the tumor from returning, I can see why in that regard. And… Okay, I’ll give Liv credit, giving him the ability of technokinesis is quite the feat she pulled and I can see why he’d keep it since it would have plenty of uses outside of whatever she had him do for her. Though, we’re going to need some help in regards to the tech. I’m a neurosurgeon, not a bio tech surgeon.”

“Let me take care of that part. I’m gonna call in Eboni since this is right up her alley.”

“Ah, good idea. Then I’ll just focus on the tumor.” Kim frowned as she looked at the scan, showing the state of it. “I never thought I’d see it that big.”

“It’s bad but you can handle it, right?”

Kim nodded.

“I’ve been testing a procedure for years now to remove it. I’ll have to make tweaks to it but I’m sure it’s going to work. It has to. For his sake.”

“Then we have a plan.” 

Shaylin closed the charts, getting up.

“I’ll go get the O.R. prepped and call in Eboni. We won’t start the procedure till everyone has gotten a proper rest but at the very least, everything will be ready.”

“Right.” Kim got up as well. “I’m going to go talk to Bob. I have some catching up to do.”

“Sounds good.”

The women parted ways, heading for their own respective destinations.

Kim quietly opened the door to Obake’s room, peeking inside to see if he was awake. Her heart melted as she saw him fast asleep with Trina curled up to his side, her arms around him.

Kim smiled softly, making her way into the room, closing the door behind her. She grabbed an extra blanket from one of the cabinets, draping it over Trina, who smiled in her sleep, nuzzling her father’s chest.

“Sweet dreams, Little Star.” Kim whispered, kissing her head before looking to Obake, kissing his head as well. “You too, my love.”

Obake smiled a bit in his sleep, nuzzling her a little. Kim nuzzled back before pulling away, making herself comfortable on the guest bed in the room. She took one last look at Obake and Trina before closing her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Don’t worry, Bob. I’ll cure you soon.

I promise.

[whumpqhs]

Whumptober #11. Stitches

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

"Get up."

Sonora groaned and sat up, swinging her legs to the floor. She'd been let loose from the restraints on the medical bed when the prisoner she’d been set to save had recovered, and while she was still kept in the same interrogation room much of the time, the "interviews" had gotten fewer, and further between. 

In their place were long sleepless nights, pressed into service as everything from a short-order lab tech to an emergency trauma surgeon to a burn specialist. Newly and critically wounded from the war, these prisoners were too high value to be allowed to die, and with new battles every day, the infirmary was struggling to keep up. She followed that familiar punchable face into the clean room, past all modesty by this point, and started changing into fresh scrubs and washing her hands. Next came the PPE, already laid out for her on a tray. No extras; nothing for her to sneak out. He trained the blaster on her as she pulled on her shoe covers and tied the apron around her legs.

It wasn't her first time scrubbing in at gunpoint, even before her capture, and it was very unlikely to be the last. But it wasn’t all bad: her bruises were healing, she was getting actual food… 

"Here, let me get that for you."

...and Keeper had become substantially less of an ass. She turned, giving him her back, and tucked her head down so he could tie the gown at the nape of her neck. 

"Thanks. Where are we?"

"OR 2." He followed behind her. His blaster was still aimed at the middle of her back, and it gave her the nerves, but she was getting used to it, in a way. Sometimes she could even forget about it, for a few seconds, or sometimes longer if he set it down, like he did now, passing it off to a guard standing at the doorway as he fixed her with a stern and serious glare. 

"Remember, Cipher--if he dies…"

"I go too. Yes. Can I do the timeout now?" She'd long since accepted that condition of the arrangement… and had moved on to making sure he understood that it no longer bothered her.

"Can y--? No. It's my turn to do the timeout." He shook his head. "You did it last time." 

Success, in the form of a petulant look from the elite SIS agent. 

"No, you did it. Remember? The exploratory lap?"

Greater success: for a moment, he scrunched his eyebrows together and frowned. "...oh yeah. I guess I did. Go on then."

Her smirk about being right--and making him admit it--was invisible behind her mask, fortunately. As she settled into the familiar rhythm of something she'd done so many times before, she could feel the tension and panic of being a prisoner melting away as, for a moment, she wasn’t a prisoner at all. She was herself again: a Cipher, a caregiver… 

"Alright, time out! Hands off the patient. This is prisoner F2975, thirty year old, Force blind, Zabrak male. We're doing a resection of damaged GI tissue with multiple sites, debridement of any necrotic tissue. Going in from the lower left quadrant, site is marked…" she checked the lines of body marker on his skin, "Patient is positioned supine, draped appropriately, intubated and anesthetized… do we all agree so far?"

Around her, the rest of the team nodded. She continued. "Skin prep looks like it's already been done. Ten blade, please."

The fact that Keeper willingly handed her a knife, scrubbed in and standing at her right, should have been a clue about how sure they were that she’d never make it out of here. But if she started thinking about that, she might make a mistake. Instead, she thought only of making the perfect incision, cutting at just the right angle, to just the right depth. Blood spilled out from behind the inflamed skin. She didn’t even need to call for suction; he was already working on it, moving it behind her blade and staying out of her way.

“You’re good at this.” 

“Thanks. I wanted to be a surgeon.” He offered her the retractor she’d been about to ask for. How did he know? “They make us get out after a certain amount of medical training, so I only got my RN. Not like the Empire.”

“How would you know about the Empire’s policies, hm?”

She’d had Cipher training, unlike the rest of the room, so even in her peripheral vision, she could see what they hopefully couldn’t: the flicker of surprise as he looked up at her and then quickly recovered--he was a spy too, after all--and smoothly replied, “I read your file when we captured you. Imperial Medical Board has you down with a stack of certificates and extra degrees as tall as I am. They should really stop using the same personnel numbers as Imperial Intelligence… that’s pretty much asking for trouble. Worked out pretty well for us, though.” He grinned at her and went back to working the suction as she slowly opened up the incision to see what they were dealing with.

“Ah. Well… I was a bit of a special case.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m not just a medical operative. They usually don’t get that much training… since they do a lot of field work. Theirs tends more toward strategy, tactics, search and rescue, that stuff.”

“Not you?” He passed in a hemostat when she put out her hand. 

“Not me. Ciphers are… different. I did most of my work in a hospital setting, like this one. Targets too highly classified to be given to regular medics. Important figures who were under threat and needed a trusted team… or who could make it worthwhile for Intelligence. We were the best in the Empire; and that meant we were constantly in demand.” Even now, she couldn’t keep the pride out of her voice. Being promoted had been the best day of her life.

“Huh. We don’t have that type of thing; at least not that I know of. Just Agents, Special Agents, like me…”

“If it’s one up from the typical agent rank, then it’s the same as Cipher--so… you and I would be the same, then.”

“Hey, watch it, Ron.” One of the nurses cut in. “No need to go giving her info.”

“Your name is Ron?” She stopped, with both hands in the patient, and just looked at him.

“...Rongeur. It’s my designation. You are still my prisoner, and you will still call me Keeper.” She could see the color rising into his cheeks.

“It’s a nice designation. Useful instrument.”

He shook his head. She could hear the rest of the team snickering… clearly they were already well aware of how he didn’t like it. She sighed and went back to clamping, and cutting away, the tissue, then stitching the remaining healthy bowel back together.

“Oh, come on. No one likes their first callsign. I was so excited to change mine when I got promoted. It’s okay.”

“If it’s so “okay”, then why don’t you tell me yours?”

“Nice try.” She finished the last stitch on the intestine. “Rinse please, sterile saline and kolto.”

Once the cavity had been irrigated out, she nodded. “I think we’re about ready to close up, what about you? I need a second pair of eyes.”

He leaned in to check her work, nodding. “Looks good to me.” With the main procedure done, personnel began to leave, prepping for the eventual move to the infirmary’s PACU. When it was just them and the anaesthesia droid, she looked over at him. 

“Epi.”

“What? No. He’s not coding.”

“No, that was… that was me. My designation.” She placed the last stitch to anchor everything down within the cavity. “I was part of the rapid response team. Specialized in running codes. They used to say I was like a dose of it--little, which always made me mad, and… the best thing to have on hand if your heart stopped. Which made me really happy. So when I got to change my designation, that’s what I picked.”

Keeper--she’d already decided she wasn’t going to use that other name, it fit him even less somehow--looked back at her and quietly repeated, “Epi.”

“Mhmm.”

He picked up a needle holder, sighing. “I guess if they ever let me change mine--although I don’t think SIS does that--I’ll pick something cool like that.”

Why was it suddenly warmer than usual behind her mask?...

“I, y’know, it’s not that cool. I just… you’re right about yours, it really doesn’t suit you…”

“Thanks. Everyone else knows I hate it, they get a real kick out of it. S’why I jumped on making you call me something else.” He gestured to the needles that were lined up on the tray, already threaded. “You want the silk, or the Dakryl?”

“...You mean the dainethylene, right?”

“Huh?”

“You just did it again.”

“Did what?”

“When you get some time, look at that package. I’ve had to use Republic supplies in the field, you know? Emergency surgery… nowhere on there does it say Dakryl. It says the generic name. Dainethylene.” She paused, then added, “I want the silk, though.”

“It… so what?” He handed it over. She could tell from his tone that she’d hit a nerve. “I must have picked it up from a prisoner, like you. You’re not the first Sith-licking Imperial to come through here, don’t flatter yourself.”

Sonora started placing the stitches carefully. She knew she shouldn’t push. But… “You usually talk about surgical supplies with the prisoners here?”

“My specialty as a medical operative is interrogating. With medical torture. It comes up.” But he sounded defensive.

“I guess. I didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just… strange. I’ve captured my fair share of SIS too, you know?...”

“I’m well aware.”

“They didn’t talk like you do.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. And as soon as he’s closed up, you’re going back to your cell.”

She blinked at him, tying off another stitch. “Was it something I said?”

“You keep acting like you have something on me, Cipher, well let me make this clear--you don’t.” His speech was fast and pressured, and he sounded genuinely angry. “I am a loyal Republic citizen. I always have been, and always will be. And you are still alive only because you are useful, and not very much trouble, so if I were you I’d be very careful about irritating the person who has to fight for you not to be taken downstairs and shot.”

That brought her up short. Mid-stitch, in fact. “...you… you’re the reason they’re keeping me?”

He turned away, prepping another needle. “You pull your weight. Don’t make errors. You work without complaint, the shit no one else wants to do, you do it.”

“I don’t have much choice.”

“So you do it, and you don’t spend an hour in the charge nurse’s office whining about having to.” He passed it over to her. “I’m trying to convince them that you’ll defect if we give you time to see that the Republic’s not all bad. We’ve lost a few of our agents to Imperial Intelligence. Might as well even the score.”

“So what would that be like? Just… turning around for the other guys, just like that?”

“They wipe your memory. Parts of it. So I hear, anyway.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t be much use as a medic, then.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe they leave those parts alone, so you can still practice.”

The words hung in the air for a moment. It seemed like they were both making the connection at roughly the same time. Parts like the names of suture thread?

Keeper was the one to jump in and try to fill the silence. “--Either way, you don’t have to stay in a prison cell once you defect, you know. You should do it. Come fight for the good guys.”

“Would that be the good guys who, unlike Imperial Intelligence, let their medical agents specialize in medically torturing people for information?”

“The very same.”

“...yeah, not yet.” She placed the last stitch. 

“Think about it.”

“I will, if you’ll think about something for me.”

“What’s that?”

She pointed to her stitches. “What was it you called this? Far-far, near-near, symmetrical bites...”

“It’s a Tirian loop. Did they not teach you that?”

“Yeah, they taught me that. At the Academy on Dromund Kaas. Tirian comes from Lord Tiria, the Dark Council seat for Biotic Sciences. He perfected it a couple hundred years back and promptly insisted on it being renamed after him...” As she began to tape down the drain coming out of the incision, she continued, “I had hold of one of your medics once. And I used this stitch on him. He called it a Beltic stitch, after Beltos Shala, the one who invented it.” Sterile gauze padded the stitches and wicked away any extra fluid. “...So while I know where I learned it… I’m pretty curious about where you did. Mister Loyal Republic Citizen.”

“It is not your job to be curious.” His voice had dropped back to the cold, cutting tone from when she’d first seen him, standing over her as her muscles locked up. She winced. “You’re a prisoner, it’s your job to do what you’re kriffing told. Are you finished with the procedure?”

“...yes.”

“Good.” He ripped the PPE off of himself and tapped on his wrist comm. “I’ll have them come get him and move him to PACU. You’re going back to your cell. Now.”

“What?! I can’t leave a patient!”

He picked up the blaster and leveled it at her chest. “You’re. Going. Back. To your CELL, now MOVE.”

--

[sxypigeon]

Pharmercy Beginnings Part 3

A/N: Or “Protect your healers from themselves.”  Angela and Fareeha are brought together by noisy coworkers only to have the doctor get called away.  Talon plots, Fareeha tries not to check our her best friend, and Angela tries to remember she’s human.

Part 1:  No warnings, just sarcasm and fluff.

Part 2 Don’t mess with Battle Mercy:  Warnings: lots of violence and attempted assault.

Tap. Tap. Ta-scuff.  Tap.                   Tap. . . Tap . . .Tap.

Two sets of boots echoed through the corridor as the captain escorted the weary doctor down the hall.  Hand on the small of Angela’s back, Fareeha was ever mindful of any sway in her friend’s gate as the traversed the dimly lit corridor.

“So you’ve confirmed the presence of nanobots?” Angela asked tiredly as Dr. Muller examined the bruising on her left side.

“Based on the tip you gave your colleague, we started looking for them specifically,” Dr. Farzi explained.  “A biopsy of the king’s liver confirmed it, but we don’t have the equipment to remove them.”

Fareeha watched from across the room, trying not to cringe at the collage of blues, blacks, and browns the older doctor gently prodded at on Angela’s side.

“Most hospitals have no need to recall nanobots when they’re hard-light and self-limiting,” Angela acknowledged.  “I should be able to-”  She hissed in pain.

“Cracked fourth rib on the left side,” Lars said apologetically.

“I should be able to replicate the recall device we use for research with what the hospital has to administer the tech,” she said tightly.  She batted away Lars’ careful hands and lowered her camisole.  “Where-”

“No,” the older man stated firmly.  “We aren’t through yet.”

Angela glared at him, “I have a concussion and a cracked rib - the king is on his deathbed!  Testing can wait until we get the source of problem from the patient!”

“Legally, I can’t allow you to assist in any way until you’ve been properly treated for your injuries,” Dr. Farzi said gently.  “The sooner Dr. Muller completes his exam, the sooner we can focus on the king.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but she shook her head and let her clenched fist fall.  “And what will the treatment be?  Two doses of three hundred milligrams of nanobots and eight hours of rest?  The king doesn’t have that kind of time,” she finished exhaustedly.  

“No, he doesn’t, but we have a responsibility to ALL of our patients,” Mohamed said patiently.  “Including those trying to save lives.”

“So . . . what then?” Angela asked as she raised her shirt again for Lars to finish his examination.

“Once we know the extent of your injures, we can better weigh the risks of allowing you to aid in removing the patient’s nanobots.”

She nodded stiffly and dropped her eyes to the floor.

Fareeha held open the door to the locker room for the doctor and followed her in.  Angela glanced around the tiled space and made a beeline for the shower stalls.  The captain followed carrying the doctor’s belongings.

“What you’re doing to the Freyja is reversible, correct?”

Angela paused where she was knelt at the back the instrument and bit her lip.  She locked eyes with Lars, “Could you call the manufacturer?”

He nodded with a chuckle, “Mohamed, that’s code for ‘No,’ but she will ensure it’s replaced at no cost to the hospital.”

“Your facility has four more, right?” she asked as she spliced together a set of wires.

“Yes, but that’s a multi-million euro instrument you’re irreversibly altering,” he said uneasily.

“Which is built by a company I have fifty-one percent ownership of,” she said calmly.  “You will receive a replacement at no cost, you have my word.  I did provide the technology to create it, after all.”

Fareeha smiled at the ease at which the doctor worked.  Finally cleared for light work, but not direct patient care, the doctor perked up considerably and sprang into action.  The captain had yet to discern if Angela’s smirk and bravado were sincere or simply another mask to hide how shaken she still was.

“Okay, that should do it for the hardware,” Angela muttered as she stood stiffly with a groan.  She moved to the laptop interfaced to the instrument and began examining the code it operated with.  “This will take some time.  Would it be possible to get a coffee?”

Mohamed worked his jaw anxiously, as if he still wasn’t at all comfortable with this whole process, but nodded and left.

“Do you suppose he’ll ever invite us back?” Lars asked as he finished his call.

“No, and I sincerely hope I never have reason to return,” Angela said softly before beginning to write new lines of code.

Angela took her bag and disappeared behind the curtain.  It didn’t take long before the captain heard a frustrated hiss.

“Are you okay?” Fareeha asked.

“Yes, fine.  It’s just difficult to remove my shirt,” the doctor admitted.

“Would you like help?”

“So forward of you to ask,” she tried to laugh, but in the echoey space the joke sounded forced.  “Verdammt, yes, I would like help.”

Pushing aside the plastic sheet, Fareeha found the doctor pouting in frustration.  “It’s okay to ask for help, you know?”

Angela sighed shallowly and shook her head, “I can repurpose one of the most complex instruments in this building, but I can’t even remove my own shirt.”

Fareeha smile softly, “Well, it’s a good thing I’m here.”  She lifted the camisole over the doctor’s head and carefully moved it down her arms.  “What about your boots?”

“My boots?” Angela asked as she tried to bend down, but groaned.

“Stop, I’ve got it,” Fareeha said patiently as she knelt on the floor.  The doctor remained silent as she was helped out of her footwear.  “Okay, what about your bra?”

“I should be able-” she bit her lip as her left hand made it to her lower back before stopping.  “Verdammt!”  

“Turn around,” she chuckled.

Angela let her shoulders slump in defeat and turned.  

“I am here to help.”

“You’re here to protect me,” Angela mumbled.

“And right now, you need protection from yourself,” Fareeha countered.  She undid the clasp and tried not to think about how intimate the whole situation was.  “Anything else?”

“If I can’t handle undoing my trousers then I may be more injured than I originally thought,” she whispered.

“Then I’ll be just outside if you need me.”  Fareeha took a deep breath once the curtain slid shut.  She needs you as friend right now.  Keep it together.  She leaned against the row of sinks across from the showers as the steam from the doctor’s shower began to fill the room.  

Almost immediately, Angela’s soft cursing echoed against the tile.  “I can’t . . . I can’t wash my hair,” she admitted dejectedly.

Oh, shit.  “Okay, I can help, if you’d like.”

Almost inaudibly, “Please.”

Okay, Amari, don’t you dare peak at anything.  Just help her with her hair and leave.  “Okay, I’m on the other side of the curtain.”

The doctor pulled open the plastic with an arm over her chest, staring at the floor.  “Here,” she said handing her a travel-size bottle before turning.

“Let me know if I’m too rough,” the captain said as she began to work the soap into her wet hair.  Before long, Angela’s clenched shoulders relaxed and Fareeha could have sworn she heard a soft sigh of contentment.  “So what’s plan after this?” she asked more to distract herself than anything.

“I need to sift through the code of the nanobots we found in the king,” she muttered over the sound of the water.

“No time to rest or heal?”

“We need to know who tried to assassinate him and the best way to do that is by going through the code,” Angela said.  “There are maybe a dozen people in the world who know enough about my research to be able to alter my code to cause this sort of targeted harm.  And I . . . I’m still worried I won’t be allowed out of the country.  If they’re going to arrest me again, I want to make sure my injuries are still there for the world to see if they do.”

“So you’re dead-set on being in pain for the rest of the night.”  Fareeha gently pushed the doctor’s hands down as she tried to raise them to rinse her hair, “I’ve got it.”

“You’ll get wet,” she warned.

“There are hairdryers by the sinks,” she said with a chuckle.  “Are you sure you can’t at least get a few hours rest before working?”

Angela was silent long enough that Fareeha thought she hadn’t heard her.  “I hate feeling so useless,” she admitted quietly.  “I can’t perform the surgery, I can’t even take care of myself!  I came all this way, I need to do something.”

“But you did,” she reminded her gently.  “Without you, they never would have been able to remove the nanobots.  Without that, they wouldn’t be able to do the surgery at all.”

“I guess,” Angela admitted reluctantly.

Fareeha rolled her eyes and smiled, “I know this might be hard to hear, but you aren’t a superhero, Ange.  You can’t always do everything.  Only most of the time.”

The doctor laughed softly.  “I suppose you’re right.”  She turned and faced the captain.  “Thank you for your help.”

“Sure,” she said, trying desperately to keep her eyes on the doctor’s face.  “Anything else you need help with?”

“I think I should be fine,” she said with a small grin.  “This isn’t exactly how I pictured you seeing me naked for the first time though.”

“I haven’t-”  Wait a minute - does she mean. . .

“I’m kidding, Fareeha.  I trust you.  Breathe.”

This woman will be the death of me.  The captain closed her eyes and smiled, “I’m just going to dry my shirt before I embarrass myself anymore.”

“Hey Doc, time for your mandatory break.”

Angela looked up from her laptop to see Tariq standing beside her chair.  “I suppose I could use more coffee.”

“The captain gave me orders to ensure you also eat something,” he said with a grin.

“Of course she did.”  The doctor stood slowly and led the way to the breakroom.  “Is Fareeha sleeping?”

“Hopefully,” he said.  “She’s not allowed to be as stubborn as you when she’s on the job.  Saleh and I both got a few hours of rest, so she has to at least try, too.”

“I’ll rest when the coffee stops working,” Angela chuckled as she refilled her mug.  

“Fine, but you have to eat everything I’m putting on your plate before you can leave.”

The doctor turned to see the soldier piling a mountain of rice and meat from the hospital’s crockpot onto a plate.  “Oh, come on!  I don’t even think you could finish that!”

“I could, too!  But this is for you and I know you haven’t had any real food in about six hours so you should be starving by now,” he said as he placed the plate on a table.

Angela glared in mock-annoyance before dropping carefully into her chair.  “I’ll eat as much as I can, but I’m not going to finish this.”

“We’ll see.”  He let her take a few bites.  “How’re you doing, Doc?”

She chewed her food slowly before finally deciding on a simple, “Fine.”

Tariq frowned theatrically.  “Wait, I know this one - when a woman says she’s fine, it really means something’s wrong.”

“I can’t imagine what,” she muttered as she took another bite.

“You want to vent?”

“No.”  I’m definitely not ready to deal with any of this yet.

“Okay,” Tariq said as he sipped his coffee.  “So you and Amari, huh?”

Angela nearly dropped her fork.  “Really?”

He looked apologetic, “Shoot, are things not cool between you two?”

“There fine, it’s just-”  Angela struggled to explain herself.  “I don’t do relationships.  I don’t have the time to devote to one, but . . . if I was ever going to try to have one, it’d be with her.  I just don’t know if I can do it.  I don’t want to hurt her either.”

“Well that’s awfully noble of you, Doc,” he said with a smile.  “But you have to remember that people have been doing long distance relationships since forever.  You aren’t the first person to be in this predicament.”

“I know, but I- She’s pretty much my only friend outside of my coworkers.  I don’t want to mess this up and lose her,” she admitted.

The soldier folded his hands in front of himself and tried to remain patient.  “Is doing nothing going to prevent you from losing her?”

Angela looked up from the food she was poking and frowned.  “No, to be honest, I did try pushing her towards other relationships just so I wouldn’t be the one to hurt her.  I figured I could be happy knowing that she was happy with someone else.”

“Wooow. . . . Just, wow,” he said before pinching the bridge of his nose.  Tariq leaned back in his chair and gathered his thoughts before leaning forward again.  “Okay, first off: stop being a bloody martyr.  Martyrs are great for books and movies, but are shit in real life.  Everyone around a martyr just wants to grab them by the shirt and shake sense into them.  Secondly: people get hurt all the time.  It happens, we get over it.  Thirdly: just give it a try.  I think you’ll find it’s easier than it looks.  Sure the distance sucks, but that just makes the time you have together that much sweeter.  Fourthly - is that a word, we’ll say it’s a word - just go be happy, Doc!  You’ve spent your entire life helping others, you deserve to have someone to come home to. . . And I just kind of assume two attractive women like you two would have a very good time together - not that I’ve thought about it or anything.”

Angela kicked him under the table before smiling, “Of course not.”

“Just give it some thought, not that last bit, but the other stuff.”

She nodded pensively, “I will.”

Fourteen hours and three synthetic organs later, it looks like the king is going to make it, Fareeha thought as she watched the the surgeons finish closing the incisions.  Hopefully that means I can get Angela to finally rest.

Said doctor was still pouring over endless lines of code, having consumed enough coffee to kill a lesser person.  Bruised eyes squinted at the screen as she highlighted a sizeable chunk of text.

“Ange, it looks like they’re finishing up in there.  Could we think about calling it a night . . . or early morning actually?” Fareeha asked as she placed her hands on the doctor’s shoulders.

Angela hummed tiredly, but continued staring at her screen.  

“Ange?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s time to take a break.”

“Oh, I do need more coffee,” she mumbled as she finally pushed herself away from the desk.

“No more coffee, Doc.  It’s time to sleep,” the captain said gently.

“But I’m not done yet,” she argued.  “There’s still so much to go through-”

“And it will still be there after you’ve rested.”

The doctor sighed before looking up to watch her colleagues in the next room.  “Just let me update them first.”

Fareeha arched an eyebrow, but nodded.  It didn’t take long before the doctors finished their work and exited the room as nurses finished cleaning up the patient.  

“Well, that could have gone worse,” Lars admitted tiredly.  “I’m surprised to see you up, Angie.”

“I was just trying to convince her to call it a night,” the captain said with a chuckle.

“I’m fine,” Angela muttered in a huff.  “I just thought I could update both of you before-”

“To be honest, I just want to see a bed,” her colleague said as he rubbed his eyes.  

“I would like to know what you’ve found,” Mohamed said frowning at the other surgeon.  “Perhaps in the courtyard - I could use some fresh air.”

“Fine, I suppose I’m a bit curious,” Lars mumbled grumpily.

Once outside, Angela launched into a technical jargon filled explanation that Fareeha quickly realized no one followed.  

“Dumb it down, Angie.  We’ve had a long day,” Dr. Muller pleaded.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.  “I guess without going into why, I think I know who programmed the nanobots.  She was a former Overwatch colleague who is now the head of genetics research at the Oasis institute in Iraq.”

“Who and why?” Dr Farzi asked as he sat on a bench near a water feature.

“Dr. Moira O’Deorain and I can’t say specifically why,” Angela admitted as she sat across from him on the edge of the fountain.  “But she was expelled from Overwatch because of her ties to the terrorist group Talon.  I suspect she relies on those ties still.”

“So, a geneticist within one of the most respected research institutes in the world helped a terrorist organisation attempt to assassinate the king of Saudi Arabia,” Lars said with a confused look.  “What motive could she or the organisation have?”

Angela shrugged.  “Talon funded much of her more . . . controversial experiments.  She owes them for that.  As for why Talon would want the king gone . . . perhaps they think they can find sympathizers here.  No one really knows what their motives are.  They just seem to thrive on chaos and unrest.”

“They certainly don’t seem to be focused on a specific part of the world,” Fareeha chimed in.  “They’re active on nearly every continent, but don’t have a firm foothold anywhere yet.”

“Fantastic,” Mohamed grumbled sarcastically.  “And I don’t suppose there’s anything concrete we can use to confront Dr. O’Deorain?”

She shook her head.  “No, all of this is speculation, but I don’t make these accusations lightly.”

“Well, that’s something to think about,” Lars said with a yawn.  “I think we need to sleep on this.  Angie, you’ll have the on-call room on this floor.  Mohamed and I will be in the one on the floor above.”

“Okay,” she said tentatively.  “I’m going to stay out here a little longer to clear my head.”

Lars frowned and stared at the younger doctor until she wilted and pulled out her pack of cigarettes.  “I see.”  He turned on his phone and saw nearly a dozen messages from Angela’s lawyer.  “While you out here clearing your mind, perhaps you can check your messages.  Your people are trying to get to you through me.  Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t,” she muttered staring at the ground.

Fareeha watched the doctors leave as Angela took her first pull.  “I’m guessing he doesn’t approve of your new habit.”

“No, he was my mentor until I surpassed him and became head of surgery,” she mumbled.  “He still likes to look out for me after all of these years.”  She frowned at her glowing screen and sighed.  “No charges for me or the men who attacked me . . . yet.  My lawyer seems to think I should release a statement.”

“Maybe it should wait until morning.”

Angela shook her head.  “Once I go to sleep, I don’t intend on waking up anytime soon.  Better to get it done now.”  She flipped her phone over and activated the tiny camera-carrying drone.  Roughly the size of a house fly, the small robot hovered in front of the doctor expectantly.  Looking at her lit cigarette, she shrugged.  “You and Lars were to people I was most worried about finding out about this.  I suppose this will give me reason to quit.”

Fareeha smile softly as the blonde began to speak.

“Guten morgen, it’s been a while since I’ve posted an update,” she said with a tired smile.  “I think last time I was in Afghanistan two months ago.  I’ve since been to India to help with the monsoon, but more recently, I’ve been called to Saudi Arabia.  There are a few videos-”

Fareeha rolled her eyes - a few may be the understatement of the year.

“-of an altercation I was part of at the airport.  There have been some questions about why I was in handcuffs and who the men were that were escorting me.”  She paused to take another pull.  “Ah, yes.  I suppose my terrible secret is out also,” she muttered as she gestured to the cigarette.  “I’ll have to quit now that the world knows.  But I digress, I was arrested for an altercation aboard my flight from New Delhi to Riyadh.  I was attacked by the son of the acting king and fought him off, but that prompted a visit with the secret police once we landed.  Nearly the entire encounter was document from my understanding so I’ll skip to arriving at the police station.”

The captain wanted to sit beside her and wrap her arm around the doctor for support, but settled for sitting across from her.

“I’m not sure how long I sat in an interrogation room before my attacker and his companions from the plane entered the room without an officer.”  She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before taking a drag.  “They tried to surround me and presumably assault me, but fortunately I was able to fight them off again.  After that was the post I made to Mr. al Saud’s blog and my eventual release from custody.”

You’re doing great, Ange.  Almost done.

“Due to confidentiality reasons, I can’t divulge who my patient is or their status, but I can confirm I was requested to come here for work.  This wasn’t an ill-fated vacation,” she said with a small laugh.  “I have not been charged with a crime, but neither have my attackers.  I’m not entirely sure if I’ll be allowed to leave the country, but until I do I intend to allow my injures to heal naturally.”

In other words, you’ll be miserable until we leave.

“The worst of those injuries include a concussion, two broken fingers, a broken nose, and a cracked rib.  I’m used to getting shot and dealing with blood loss, but this is a bit of a new experience for me.  I haven’t decided which I prefer,” she chuckled weakly.

Alright Ange, give up on the humor and wrap it up.  

Angela inhaled from the cigarette one last time.  “It will be a few days before I can go through all of the one hundred sixty-eight thousand three hundred twenty-four new messages on my blog, but I’d like to thank everyone for their well-wishes and concern.  Hopefully my next update will be back home in Switzerland.  Stay safe and thanks for watching.”

Fareeha watched the little drone land on Angela’s outstretched hand before she secured it to the back of her phone again.  “All set?”

She nodded as she typed.  “I just need to send it to the law firm and . . . done.”

Two sets of footsteps echoed loudly as they navigated the halls to the on-call room.  Fareeha kept her arm around the doctor’s shoulders as she shuffled along tiredly.  

“This looks familiar,” Angela chuckled weakly when they arrived.  Three sets of bunk beds lined the walls of the small room.  

“Do you spend a lot of time in rooms like this?” Fareeha asked as the doctor picked out a lower bunk.

“When I was younger, yes.  I practically lived in one during my residency.”  She sat down and toed off her shoes.  “That feels like a lifetime ago.  Even Overwatch feels like someone else’s life.”  She stared at the ground and gripped the edge of the bed.  “I don’t- I-” she huffed in annoyance.  “What happened today . . . I’ve been shot many times on missions, fatally if not for my nanobots, but this . . . this has gotten under my skin and I- I hate it!” she whispered harshly.  “I can’t shake the feeling that at any moment they’ll be back and-”

“Hey, no one is going to get you while I’m here,” Fareeha said gently.  “I promise.  I won’t leave you.  They’ll have to arrest me too.”  She sat down next to her and wrapped her in a careful hug.

“I don’t want you to get arrested,” she stammered brokenly.  “I just want to go home!”

“I know, Ange.  I know,” she cooed as the older woman began to sob.

“I need to speak to Dr. Ziegler.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve been given orders not to allow anyone into this room.”

“The king is asking for her.”

“Shit, give me a moment.”

Fareeha prepared herself for Saleh’s quiet entry into the darkened room and watched him approach almost comically on tiptoes.  “Boss,” he whispered, “the king is awake and wants to talk to your girlfriend.”

The captain rolled her eyes from her chair beside Angela’s bed and nodded.  “I’ll wake her.  Tell them she’ll be out in a few minutes.

With the soldier gone, she sighed sadly.  She hasn’t gotten nearly enough sleep.  “Angela, I need you to wake up,” she said softly as she shook her shoulder.

Nothing, okay.  She began to lightly slap the unbruised part of the doctor’s cheek.  “Ange, wake up.”

Come, Ange.  I’m not gonna go Sleeping Beauty on you.  That’s kind of rapy.  “Angela.  Aaangelaaa, wake up please.  Your patient wants to speak with you.”

“Noooooo,” she moaned tiredly into her pillow as she tried to roll away from the captain.  “Have Lars deal with it.”

“He’s asking for you,” Fareeha said apologetically.

“Verdammt.”  She groaned painfully as she rolled onto her back and slowly sat up.  “I suppose there are downsides to being so well known.”  The doctor went to rub her eyes but hissed in pain as she touched her bruises.  “Nuttosohn!” she groaned.

“Language, Doctor,” Fareeha said as she handed her friend a glass of water.

The older woman hummed in annoyance as she took a sip.  “How long was I out?”

“Three hours.”

“Verdammt.”

“Are you going to make it or should I tell them to piss off?” the captain asked sincerely.

She shook her head and yawned.  “I’m fine.  I just need to change . . . and get a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll let Saleh know.”

Moira felt her left eye twitch in annoyance as she felt another presence in her lab.  “To whom do I owe the pleasure this morning?”

Behind her Reyes materialized and slowly walked around her desk.  “Were you expecting someone else?”

“If not you, then Sombra,” she said shortly.  “What can I help you with?”

Reyes looked around the expansive space, Dr. O’Deorain’s assistants weren’t due for another hour and a half.  “You’ve been keeping up with the Saudi Arabian mission?”

“Of course,” she said tensely.  “That’s why I’m hosting your team after all.”

“So you know it’s a bust.”

“It appears so, yes.”

“I’m beginning to think accepting Ogundimu back into our ranks was a mistake,” he growled softly.

“Because he ignored your advice?  I would recommend allowing him to make at least one more mistake before offing him,” Moira muttered in a bored voice.

Reyes chuckled.  “I never said I wanted him dead.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“Fair enough.”  He walked to the window overlooking the man-made lake.  “I suppose we’ll have to look to another region.  At least we have Oasis-”

“Unofficially.”

“Right.”

“Is this conversation going anywhere, Reyes?” Moira asked as she sipped her tea.

He turned and approached her desk before placing his hands on its surface and leaning toward the doctor.  “You didn’t by chance convince Ogundimu that this subtle approach was the best option did you?”

“Of course not.  I was asked to program the nanobots and that was all,” she irately.  “This was his decision not mine.”

Reyes stared at her intently before nodding.  “It’s good to know your past relationship with Ziegler isn’t clouding your judgement.”

“There was no relationship,” she said shortly.  “Just science and sex.  It ended many years ago.”

“Good,” he said almost cheerfully as he walked toward the door.  “She is on my list.”

“She’s all yours.”

“Enjoy the rest of your morning, Doctor,” he said as he dissolved into a cloud of nanobots and disappeared.  

Moira sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.  The sooner these idiots are gone the better.

“Someone has warned him about my injures, right?” Angela asked as she stood outside the king’s room, sipping her coffee.

“Yes, that’s part of the reason why he was so anxious to speak to you,” Mohamed said quietly beside her.  

“Even though I didn’t perform the surgery?”

“Yes.”

“Fantastic.  I suppose we should just get this over with,” she muttered as she slowly opened the door.

Fareeha followed the doctors in and felt her jaw almost drop at the decadence of the room.  At least four times larger than the average patient room, it was filled with regal maroons and golds - the bedding and the artwork.  The king’s wife and what she assumed were his son and daughter sat nearest to the monarch.  

“Dr. Ziegler!” the man in the bed exclaimed in alarm.

*Good morning, your highness,* Angela chuckled in Arabic.  *I must admit, I didn’t expect you to wake so soon.*

*All thanks to you, from what I’ve been told,* he said earnestly.

*You have Drs. Farzi and Muller to thank, not me.  I’m afraid I was unable to aid in your surgery.*

*Modest as ever.  Dr. Farzi explained what caused my illness and how you removed the wretched nanobots.  That and the horror you experienced before setting foot in this hospital.*  The king sat up higher in his bed and waved her over.  *On behalf of my kingdom, I’d like to apologize for the treatment you’ve endured and rest assured that those responsible will be held accountable.*   

Angela sat on the edge of his bed and allowed him to squeeze her left hand.  *To be honest, I simply want to be able to go home at this point.  I fear I will not be allowed to leave the country.*

*I will send two of my guard with you on the way to the airport,* he said seriously.  *I feel well enough to put my brother back in his place, but Dr. Farzi seems to disagree-*

*Which is understandable,* Angela said soothingly.  *You have three new organs in your body.  It will take at least twenty-four hours for your body to completely adjust to the change.  My technology will speed the healing process along, but you will still need at least some time to recuperate.*

*Very well,* Azid acknowledged.  *What of your injuries, Doctor?  It looks as if they haven’t healed at all.*

She ducked her head in embarrassment.  *If I am detained while leaving the country it will be better to have proof of my mistreatment visible.*

*But you must be in pain-*

*I’ll be fine.  I’m more worried about you, sir,* she muttered quickly.  *As long as you recover, then at least this all won’t have been for nothing.*

*Then for your sake, I will follow Dr. Farzi’s instructions and rest,* he said gently.  *Thank you for coming to my aid - I will not forget this.  If home is what you desire most then I urge you to take my guard and depart.  Surely you have better things to do than watch me sleep.*

Angela chuckled, *If you are sleeping, then I will be as well.  But I have to admit, I would sleep better in my own bed.*

*Then it is decided.  Go.*

Fareeha kept her arm around the doctor as the small group made their way through the airport - Saleh ahead, Tariq behind, and the king’s guards on either side of the her, Angela, and Lars.  Almost immediately after entering the building, people began to gawk and pull out their phones.  What’s the royal guard doing here?  Is that Dr. Ziegler?

“Boss, we have reporters ahead,” Saleh said as a mob rush toward them.

Angela sighed tiredly, “Let me deal with them.”

Fareeha watched protectively as flashing cameras and shouted questions filled the air around them.  Angela shouldn’t have to deal with this on top of everything else.

The doctor stepped around Saleh and raised her hands to silence the crowd before, putting a finger to her lips.  “Shhhhh.”

The questions stopped, but the flashes of cameras continued.  “I have a terrible headache,” Angela admitted, “so if you all could stop using your flash for a few moments that would be appreciated.”  She repeated her plea in Arabic to greater success.  “Thank you.  I am going home.  My presence is no longer needed and I have yet to be charged with a crime so I am leaving.  I will give another statement after I’ve had more than a few hours of rest and, frankly, know anything worth mentioning.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to press on.”

“You heard the doctor,” Saleh said as he stepped in front of her and pushed through the crowd.  “Move, please or I will move you if I have to.”

Fareeha and Lars flanked the younger doctor and moved through the crowd, trying to ignore the shouted questions and flashes of cameras.  The sooner we make it to the transport the better.

“How long?”

“Twenty minutes,” Tariq said to Angela from his spot next to Saleh in the cockpit.  Instead of a commercial flight, they were taking the transport the Helix soldiers arrived on.  All they had to do was wait for clearance from air traffic control to depart.

“How are you doing, Angie?” Lars asked from the seat next to her.

“Fine,” she said tensely, not acknowledging the death-grip she had on Fareeha’s hand.  “Just curious.”

“Slow deep breaths-”

“I know.”

“Angie-”

“Lars, I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

Fareeha rubbed her thumb over the back of Angela’s hand, both to reassure her and remind her that she was crushing her hand.  It seemed to work as Angela released a long, shaky breath and relaxed her hand a bit.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.  I’m here to protect you from you remember?”

“I owe you both dinner after all of this for how I’ve behaved this entire trip.”

Lars shook his head and nudged her shoulder.  “I just want to see you healthy and whole again.  Focus on getting better and we’ll talk about dinner then.”

“Everyone belted in?” Saleh asked.  “We’re going to taxi to the runway.”

“Home stretch,” Fareeha muttered quietly.

“The transport doesn’t need to take off from a runway.  It’s practically a helicopter,” Angela argued tensely.

“Right, but for the sake of air traffic control, we need to take off from the runway.”

“Fine.”

“How was India?” Lars asked in a transparent attempt to distract his colleague.

“Muggy and warm,” she said shortly.

“Neil and Fatima doing okay?”

“Yes.”

“They pester her consistently about her work ethic,” Fareeha supplied.

“Angie, are you still forgetting to sleep and eat?” he asked.

“I’m fine, Lars,” she said shortly, shooting a glare at the captain.

“She’s been doing better since I showed up to guilt her into resting and eating,” Fareeha said lightly.

“Good.”

“We are cleared for take off,” Saleh said from the cockpit.  “Please remain seated.”

“Almost there.”

“Not helping, Lars.”  Angela’s grip on Fareeha’s hand tightened again as the transport lifted straight up into the air.  

The captain nudged the doctor with her knee, but Angela remained stone-faced as she stared at the opposite side of the craft.

“We are on our way,” Saleh announced as the craft stopped ascending and began moving forward.  “Stay seated for a bit longer though.”

Angela let out a long shaky breath and laughed weakly as she went boneless in her seat.  “We’re really going home.”

“Yeah, Ange,” Fareeha said softly.  “You can finally relax.  We’ll let you know when were close.”

She smiled tiredly at her, holding her stare a beat too long before leaning into the captain’s side and finally allowing herself a bit of rest.

A/N: Almost done with this story, but it’s already a lot longer than I thought it was going to be.  So next chapter should be some alone time for the couple so that should be interesting to write.  

Thanks for reading!

[cyrelia-j]

[fic] Wired (Garak/Bashir/Parmak)

Catching up on a few prompt requests from @1billsookie I decided to do some of these as a continuation of the First Contact universe (where both Garak and Parmak were exiled to DS9). That can be read HERE but isn’t necessary.

Summary: This was one an OT3 version of The Wire. A comedic take on another way that Garak’s implant may have malfunctioned ;)

Warnings: some crack, language, and adult situations but nothing explicit

           “You did what?!” Julian coughs, looking around at the raised eyebrows lowering his voice. Next to him, Parmak takes his glasses off before polishing them absently.

           “It’s ahh… one of those things in Elim’s past that he doesn’t like to talk about,” Parmak murmurs, hinting that the conversation would be better continued in private. Julian isn’t quite sure how they’re going to pull off that feat when Garak is apparently there lying in bed from what Parmak described with a cough and a mumble and an unfortunate accident that he wasn’t quite sure how to correct without Julian’s assistance. Julian had had to drag the information out of his lover - and god, what a wild ride that’s been so far! - which meant that it was likely especially bad since Parmak wasn’t usually the one to obfuscate.

 Apparently Garak has some sort of mysterious “spy implant” and apparently he and Parmak had gotten carried away the last time they were playing with it in Julian’s absence. And now it’s “not working properly.”

             Julian finds Garak lying on the couch back in their shared quarters grimacing in what appears to be pain as he clicks his tongue at the both of them and kneels down next to Garak. It doesn’t look good from the outset, he thinks, pulling his tricorder out running an initial diagnostic.The sweat concerns him, Cardassians usually not perspiring unless the conditions are extreme...

           “God, your temperature is at least two degrees higher than it ought to be,” he says, remember Parmak’s continuing instruction on Cardassian. “So tell me again what exactly the two of you were doing?”

             Silence greets him from Garak (surprisingly) followed a look passing between the two of them. Julian really doesn’t understand what all the fuss is when they’ve already had the “I used to be a nefarious spy- Parmak? Guls and Ancients Parmak couldn’t spy on a retired and blind Legate” talk. Probably Garak and more secrets and more nonsense, so Julian just sighs and wonders if perhaps he ought to just never leave the station again. Right, Sorry, Commander, I know you need your Chief Medical Officer with you but I’m afraid my lovers who are certainly old enough to know better can’t seem to be trusted alone.

             “Really… I don’t even understand how the two of you have been living here all this time without an earlier incident the way you carry on,” Julian grumbles when Parmak elbows Garak in the side and finally explains that the cerebral implant is provided to certain operatives and is only intended to be used in instances of torture to release a flood of endorphins and perhaps well after being there a while not supposing it would ever be used again (“I said, ‘Elim, we should take this as a sign that a change of profession is warranted even once we do return home’”) and bored and a bit tipsy, they got the idea to start fooling around with it.

             “It’s really quite fascinating,” Parmak explains while Garak continues breathing like he’s going into labor. “We had found a way to ahh… modify the device so that it could control a slightly more varied array of functions and be activated remotely-”

           “Remotely,” Julian says flatly as his cursory scans are thankfully showing nothing beyond the increased respirations, temperature, blood pressure, but nothing beyond that and it doesn’t seem like anything that Parmak should need emergency assistance with.

           “Right, Ah and so we’re getting to the problem now. See the device was engineered by an old acquaintance of ours-” (translation- one of their other lovers) “-and it’s worked so effectively until now that-”

             Julian jumps as Parmak is cut off by a pained hiss, a yowl that sounds something akin to two cats in an alley all emanating from Garak’s throat. Garak, who Julian realizes stupidly as he looks closer is fully everted beneath the robe, scales flushed drak, swollen, hot not with fever but Julian is beginning to get a sneaking suspicion that Garak’s brain is not under duress, that his leukocytes are perfectly fine, and that this is all a matter of-

           “So you see, we’re not quite certain how to get it open and I assure you I’ve tried every driver, every key, every seal popper that we have and it’s been nothing but a fool’s errand.”

             And that’s when Julian takes a second look to Parmak now and realizes, that while he may be standing there in his professional lab coat, a look down reveals bare legs and his slippers, and Julian realizes that both of them have only thrown on the most careless layer of clothing. Garak moans again. Parmak hisses at him to stop being so dramatic. Julian feels his eye twitching as he looks back and forth between his two older (but certainly no more mature!) lovers.

 “So let me get this straight. You called me here, postponing a delicate surgery on Morn’s hernia, because you broke the remote to your sex toy?”

             Garak looks about to say something smart but instead flops inelegantly on his stomach starting to rub against the couch cushion sounding pained.

           Parmak at least has the decency to look embarrassed as he explains that he thinks it may be the battery which normally recharges with a quick shake (that he demonstrates with an obscene jerking motion- because of course, Julian why wouldn’t the battery recharge that way?) but notes that nothing is happening except Garak groaning louder and Parmak giving his ass a good swat and…

             And if Julian is being honest, pique, the humidity, Garak’s robe riding up, is starting to make it difficult to stay angry exactly, that emotion starting to twist to something a bit more primitive as he starts examining the dubious looking device (a twenty three centimeter long grey cylinder that’s suspiciously ribbed) realizing that this is honest to God beyond the supplemental engineering courses that he’d taken at Starfleet. Julian’s already turned the thing over a million ways and realizes it may have very well been sealed not to open which begs the question of how is he supposed to repair it or even get a new one. Julian sighs.

 Which means he’s going to have to talk to Miles.

 God help him.

 ---

             “Alright, once more. Yer asking me to take a look at-”

           “The remote control,” Julian answers looking away, rubbing the back of his neck.

           “Right, for a device that you’d rather not say what it’s for…”

           “Right again.”

           “And you don’t know where it came from or who made it…”

           “Right?” Julian answers with an embarrassed cough. “But I...ah left my COM badge there so Kelas can let me know if it’s er… successful,” Julian mumbles pretending not the notice the look that Miles is giving him.

           “Should I be wearing gloves for this?” Miles asks taking a second look at the gray cylindrical device. Julian feels his face heating up having counted on one hand the number of times in his life he’s ever pulled off a visible blush.

 He’s positive that he’s bright red right now as one of the ensigns under Miles raises an eyebrow.

             “It’s a medical device!” Julian yells to a series of softly concealed snickers. Maybe he should’ve caught Miles at home or in private but it really is an emergency so…

           “So the first problem is that the device is Romulan and they used one of their damn smelt sealers. So right away it’s gonna need to be popped, probably break the case but I can replicate something should hold the parts well enough. Problem is the caps the Romulans use are hard to come by if that’s even what it is-” Miles continues as Julian just nods nods, unable to picture much else except that he’d left Garak moaning like an Algorian Mammoth in a biannual heat with Parmak clinically informing them both that they might need to perform an emergency operation if he remained everted longer than a few hours so Julian finds himself tapping his foot much to Miles’ poorly concealed annoyance.

             “Sure sure, whatever you have to do,” Julian rushes out to more irritated mumbling, his damn enhanced hearing catching every whisper of entitled CMO and how it probably is a sex toy and it’s ludicrous that an officer’s sex life is more important than the food replicators which Julian bears all gamely as Miles tells him that is definitely is one of the capacitors and he’s probably gonna have to talk to Quark and just how hard was Julian (it wasn’t me!) jerking the thing any way? “Like I said before,” Julian says with his most pleasant gritted teeth smile, “it’s not a-”

           “Yeah yeah but you see, it charges here by shaking it, which is amazing considerin’ it’s old tech or a mod of some old Earth tech they used to use with copper wire but yeah, Quark probably can get you something-”

             Julian hears him shouting “Yer welcome!” after him, already off and running.

 ---

             “So needless to say,” Julian finishes as Parmak curiously turns the [somehow even more phallic looking] remote around in his hands looking at some of the extra buttons that weren’t there before like the vibrate that Julian swears wasn’t necessary to which Miles just snorted and said “yah sure it’s not”, along with the rotation of the upper half (Boq’ta’s contribution, Julian was cheerfully informed as he just nodded and graciously accepted the repaired device). Still, the transmitter was undamaged so once it was recharged, it was a simple matter to shut it off and lecture both his lovers on the dangers of messing around with such delicate things like the brain.

             Garak had merely answered as he sat rehydrating himself with a tall glass of water and an ice pack on his lap, that a life in exile was no life at all and there were stories of those who’d turned to far worse substance abuses than a little “harmless brain stimulation”. Parmak seemed to take exception to the “no life at all” comment but of course sided with Garak saying that Garak was under a doctor’s care after all, to which Julian snipped that he was a doctor who couldn’t even fix his own remote and that if anyone ought to know better that it was him.

             “You really scared me, you know,” Julian tells them both later, his head on Parmak’s lap enjoying strong fingers massaging his temples. “Please tell me you’re going to just deactivate the thing or at the very least stop using it for recreation.” He looks over at Garak’s who’s examining the remote speculatively, still toggling the different vibrate functions. He doesn’t miss the look that passes between his two Cardassian lovers as they both solicitously vow that they absolutely will not be indulging in any more reckless implant play.

 Well, at least the new remote opens with a few small screws.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #147

“i almost died, but it felt great.”

Have you ever thought of a relationship as more of a job than love?  Yep, definitely with Tyler.  Girt felt that way too, kinda. Do you live in a town where basically everyone knows everyone else?  Nope. When’s the last time you chose a bath over a shower?  Years ago, you don't even wanna know what was wrong with me. What are you doing for your next birthday?  Hopefully I'll be in a tattoo parlor my dude. Do you know anyone else with your name?  Yeah, but spelled differently. Who do you care about the most?  Sara and my mom. Colored skinny jeans. Yay or nay? YAY. Interests & hobbies:  Photography, watching let's plays, music, writing/RP, any interaction with animals, art, gaming, being out in nature if it's cool. Music. What do you listen to?  Heavy metal, mostly.  Other sub-genres of metal and rock. Quality or quantity?  Quality. What’s your phone’s signature? (if you have one…)  Oh my fucking god I forgot phones used to have a signature option.  I don't have one. Do you think it’s possible to will yourself out of caring about someone? I don't think so, honestly.  Well... maybe.  But I think you have to truly want to. Do you know anyone that is albino?  No. Would you agree that smoking (cigarettes) should be illegal?  It should be, but it's too late to make it so.  Too many people would lose their jobs. Do you prefer regular bacon or turkey bacon?  Regular by miles. Where do most of your relatives live?  New York and Ohio. Is your weight proportionate to your height?  No. What is the last place, other than home, that you stayed overnight?  Sara's house. Do you prefer leather or lace?  Lace. Would you ever buy a motorcycle?  No, too risky for me. What is the furthest you have traveled alone?  Illinois. Have you ever ridden a train? How about a subway?  No to both. What did you do on the busiest day of your life?  I dunno. Do you think everyone is born innocent? Or do you think “evil” is predetermined?  I lean more towards being born innocent. What was the meanest thing you’ve been called?  A martyr. Do you have any pets? If so, what species/breed? How did you acquire said pets?  I have two dogs, one being a beagle/cocker spaniel and probs collie mix, and another that's supposedly part jack russell.  The first came from a friend of a family friend, and the other I think from Craigslist?  Then I have a cat that looks to have Siamese heritage, and he came from my sister's mother-in-law.  I also have a champagne ball python that came from a breeder in Florida.  Both my iguana and rat came from Craigslist. Have you ever gotten a pet at a shelter? You should. There’s nothing wrong with shelter pets.  I believe so? Have you ever taken in a stray animal?  Story of my family's life with cats lmao. Have you ever dated someone simply for their looks?  No. What about dating someone simply because you felt too bad to say no?  That's honestly how Tyler and I started, yes lmao.  I didn't "like" him yet, but I mean, he was enough of a good guy for me to be like "okay let's try." Does any food always make you sick but you love it too much to not eat it?  None "sick," no.  Some don't sit well with my stomach, but I eat anyways. How do you feel about alcohol?  Dangerous potential.  Don't overindulge. Have you ever been drunk?  No. Chicken or the egg, really?  Chicken. Do you tell white lies?  Sometimes. Would you rather be able to talk to animals or be fluent in every language?  Talk to animals! Does your kitchen have a pantry?  No. Have you ever interviewed a job applicant at your workplace?  No. How do your political beliefs compare to those of your parents?  I'm not as conservative as either. Have you ever gone over 3 months without shaving/waxing your legs?  Lol yes. Would you ever consider being a foster parent?  No. What’s your opinion on lottery tickets? Waste of money, or no?  Once in a blue moon, whatever, give it a shot if you want.  But generally a waste, odds are too small. Have you ever swam in a saltwater pool?  Those exist?? What kinds of leisure activities did your family do together when you were growing up?  Almost nothing all together...  We would swim together sometimes, though.  And cook out. Are either of your parents retired yet and if not, what do they do?  No.  Dad's a mailman, and Mom's a pharmacy tech. What kind of booze did you last take shots of?  I've never done shots. What is one moment that you missed out on that you wished you didn’t? Off the top of my head, I guess the total solar eclipse we had a while back.  Didn't see anything here.  But eh, didn't have glasses anyway. What is your favorite shape?  Circles. Who did you last kiss?  Romantically, Sara.  Platonically, I think my nephew. Are pigs adorable or dirty?  PRECIOUS. What brand water do you drink? (Smart Water, Dasani, etc)  Great Value lmao. Can you speak a second language fluently?  No. Do you wanna learn any other languages?  I would really, really like to take German again and become fluent. What is the worst pain you’ve ever experienced?  Physically, an infected cyst being drained with not even nearly enough numbing and morphine; emotionally, romantic heartbreak. What’s your least favorite chore?  Dishes.  I refuse to live somewhere that doesn't have a dishwasher when I move out aksjfdasoejiw. If you had 5 minutes to talk with any politician, who would it be?  *shrugs* What would you ask them?  ^ You’re stranded alongside the road. Who do you call first?  Mom. Name the last 3 TV shows you watched:  The Good Doctor, The Bionic Vet, and probably a show that's not coming to me for Keegan or the girl Colleen watches. If you had to be a member of a TV sitcom family, which one would it be?  jfaskdjasie the Addams.  Goals. Name 3 things from your childhood that you still have today:  Like half a billion stuffed animals, some toys, some video games. How many bones have you broken?  None. Who is the one person you DON’T want to come to your wedding?  Hm.  Idk.  Maybe my sister's husband, but I mean it'd be fine if he kept his judgments to himself as I'm probably marrying a girl, and boy do I know his opinions. What is your favorite fast food joint?  Probably Wendy's. Have you used Limewire before?  Hahaha yes. Do you have any siblings? Younger or older?  Yeah, five older and one younger. Have you ever had a one night stand?  No. Do you or any of your friends have children?  My best friend has a son. Who do you envy the most, if anyone at all?  Ha, couldn't tell you.  Somebody. So have you ever been on a legit date?  Yeah. Last person you watched a movie with? 
 Colleen. Favorite book that was made into a movie? Johnny Got His Gun. Do you like eggnog?  NO. Ever seen someone get surgery?  Not like, in person.  But I watched a video of how the surgery I had is done before having it. Do you play Pokemon Go? If so, what level are you and who’s your buddy?  I play when I can anyway, Pokestops are like non-existent here, so.  But anyway I think I'm 11 or 12, and my buddy is Charmander. If you wear lipstick, what’s your favorite color to wear? Black. Has your best friend ever made you cry?  Yes. Have you ever entered a talent competition?  No. What color is your best friend’s hair?  Blonde. Is your best friend older or younger than you?  She's a few months older. Do you have a dream catcher?  No. If you’ve ever been out of your country, do you have a souvenir?  I've never been out of the country. When was the last time you saw the person you had your first kiss with?  February of last year. Have you read any of Shakespeare’s works other than Romeo and Juliet?  Yeah, though it was still for school. Why did you move to where you’re living now?  We got evicted and kinda just had to pick whatever accommodated us and wasn't gross-looking.  Thankfully we all really like our house, more than our old one even. What was the most severe punishment your parents gave you when you were growing up?  Multiple spankings. Have you ever been to California?  No. Do you think dreams actually mean anything? Why/why not?  No.  Because recently Colleen told me about a dream where she won a fried chicken plush from a claw machine and it came out as four buckets of KFC.  Find me the meaning pls. What’s something you’re really bad at compared to others?  Social interaction.  I panic over how long I'm supposed to keep eye contact, dude. How much was gas the last time you filled your car up?  I don't fill my own gas, don't have a car.  But I think it's like... $2.69 or something here?? Do you usually fill up at the same gas station?  Mom normally does. What was the topic of conversation the last time you spoke to a sibling?  I was texting Ashley about where we're doing Ryder's birthday pictures. Are any of your relatives musicians?  No. Is there a movie you currently want to see?  Slender Man and The Meg. Have you ever received an autograph from a celebrity? No.. Do you have a piece of technology that should be dead, but it’s still going?  Oh boy, the iPod nano I've had since the beginning of middle school. Ever sent drunk texts? No. How many dresses do you own?  Besides my two prom ones, I think one?? What was the most unique pet you’ve owned? My iguana, probably. Do you enjoy swimming in the ocean?  Big scream yes.  I was at the beach the other day and the water was absolutely perfect. Is there something you want to do, that you swear you will, no matter what? Yeah, meet Mark.  Direct opposite location in the U.S. my ass, he has no escape. What’s something you’ve vowed to never eat? Wild animals, unless I'm in a survival situation. Do you have trouble sleeping if you sleep anywhere else but home?  Eh, I can sometimes.  If I'm comfortable, not really.

[animamosaic]

The insurance appeal for the surgery was denied again.

I’ve been thinking about change. We can’t stop change, but we can try to shape how things change. How we respond to change is in our control. We can prepare for change.

In March 2020 I was preparing for what looked like a busy year. I had just closed a successful show, and at the closing gala a director had came up to me with a script, asking me to be her AD, because she’d heard so much about me. The director I had just worked with was adamant that we should work together again, as co-directors. Or, if I preferred, he’d support any show I wanted to direct solo. Several board members wanted me to be a production manager for the theatre. I was very excited to help the theatre update the tech system. I’d even been asked to come to an audition, something I’d fallen out of habit of doing.

I was where I’d wanted to be for a long time, because I had been making changes.

And then, you know, covid happened and everything was canceled; and like many people I went into a holding pattern. I forgot that even though I had no control over those changes, I could still control my response. I could make plans to shape how those changes affected my life. But instead I just became progressively more depressed and stopped engaging with anyone. Just waiting for things to change around me.

When I went to the ER in September it was terrifying. When I went back to the ER in October and was told the first diagnosis was wrong, and they didn’t know what was really happening, I was a little crazy*. Honestly, I thought that maybe I was imagining everything. Sometimes I still do. I can’t prove that the pain and numbness is real in any concrete way. At least MRI images are real evidence.

I had no control over those changes. I’ve been sort of holding still, like maybe if I don’t move things will stop changing. But that’s not how life works.

The apple tree has bloomed, even though I’m not ready for spring. Even though I can’t work the garden, the weeds are still going to grow. Even when I don’t move, my neck is getting worse.

So what does that mean? If life is going to keep going forward, and things are going to keep changing, what can I do? Because whether I like it or not I will be affected.

If my plan from March 2020 was available again tomorrow I’d have to decline it. I wouldn’t be able to do it. I might not ever be able to do those things again, at least not in the same way. But I have skills. I can find a way to use them. I have to. Because even though I don’t know what to do, or how to do it, doing nothing doesn’t stop bad things from happening. Doing nothing just means I have no control over my life at all.

*(Looking back I was having a fun little mixed episode from October to mid December-ish. Hypomania + pain and fear + whatever was happening from the spinal cord compression. I was being careful with myself, but since I didn’t know that there was pressure on my spinal cord I was still doing things that I shouldn’t, and that was definitely affecting my ability to think clearly. Things got better once I knew what to avoid doing to keep the pressure down. )