#extended sounds of hammer hitting computers

[mita-vittua-olivia]

was about to go to sleep, remembered this parallel. rip hammer you will always be famous

[heckinconfusedparade]

The time Eggman accidentally kidnapped Mangey (Boom Edition)

“Finally! My multiverse ring warp pad is complete!” Eggman rubs his hands together cackling evilly.

“Congratulations, sir. What do you plan on doing with it?” Orbot floats up to make sure everything looks ok. Eggman grins “we’ve already mastered technology that can enable us to travel ton different dimensions. This warp pad will take us FURTHER BEYOND!! A universe unlike our own! I plan to bring together an army of alternate me’s to finally bring down that insufferable blue pincushion and his lackies!” Eggman goes to a computer connected the pad. Cubot joins his side and looks at the screen “maybe you can get an evil Sonic? Or Tails?” Eggman rises his eyebrows in surprise “I hate to say it, but that’s actually a pretty good idea… I should extend my horizons..”

The test launch is ready. All systems are ready to go! Eggman hits a button, and a pixelated portal appears on the warp pad. A form takes shape in the portal, a small figure. The portal closes as soon as the figure steps through.

“Oh, it’s another Tails! I wonder if he’s evil?” Eggman approaches the fox. This Tails is dirty and looks pretty scruffy. He has a mohawk and messy fur. Mangey sniffs Eggman then growls. Eggman recoils. Mangey takes off and starts running around the lab on all fours, knocking everything over.

Eggman struggles to keep up with him, trying to fix his path of destruction “blast! I’ve summoned a Tails that behaves like a regular fox! Wait- wait no don’t touch that!” Mangey has gotten his hands on a pyramid thing. He starts gnawing on it, only to activate a switch.

Mangey has ascended. Gravity has released him from its tyranny and he is now free to express himself.

Orbot, very unwilling to have another incident like the one Cubot had, shuts off the anti gravity ray. Mangey thuds onto the floor. The little dude shakes off, then immediately starts tearing up Eggmans couch. Eggman has had enough! The warp pad has a cool down, so he has to somehow keep this crazy creature entertained until then. Then he gets another brilliant plan!

Eggman decides to pay Amy a visit. She’s just returning home from a walk. Amy spots Eggman and takes out her hammer.

“DONT HIT ME! I’m not here to attack you!” Eggman pleads. Amy lowers her hammer “really?”

“YES REALLY!”

“Hm.. Oh! Have you finally decided you wanted to take my self enlightenment class?” says Amy, hopeful that he says yes.

Eggman furrows his eyebrows, “no!” Then suddenly, Mangey escapes the egg mobile and tumbles onto the sand. Amy looks at him confused. Mangey cautiously crawls over to her. He does the sniff test. Hm. She doesn’t smell like the monster. New friend! Mangey wags his tails and sits at her feet. Amy coos “aww how cute!” Then she snaps out of the cuteness trance “wait, Eggman? Is this Tails?”

“Er.. yes. But he’s from another universe! Obviously. I brought him here so he doesn’t destroy my lab and everything I hold dear. Have fun!” Eggman dips, leaving Amy with Mangey. Amy sighs.

Mangey runs into her house and starts sniffing around. Amy calls out to him “TAILS!” and the boy doesn’t even lift his head. Amy wonders.. then she whistles, and that gets his attention. “Do you not go by Tails?” She asks him. Mangey tilts his head in response. “Guess not.. then what’s your name?” She doesn’t want to assume it’s Miles right away since he is from another universe. Mangey smiles “Mangey!” His voice is scratchy. Amy gasps “oh so you do speak! Just not a lot.. hello Mangeeeey~” she scratches behind his ear, triggering his little leg to start thumping. Amy feels like her heart is going to explode.

Then, a knock! Amy opens the door. Sonic has arrived holding her purse “you forgot this!” He hands it to her. “Thanks Sonic! she goes to hang it up. Mangey comes to the door to see who’s here. He sees Sonic and his whole body starts wiggling happily. He gets closer to the ground, and his ears go back. He’s making a sound that sounds a bit like laughter. Sonic blinks a few times “uh. Ames? Why do you have a pet Tails?” he lowers his hand, and Mangey shoves his head into it, demanding to be pet. Sonic would never refuse such a precious request! Amy crosses her arms “His name is Mangey, FYI. And he’s not my pet. Eggman brought him here. He said he’s from another universe. Apparently he was tearing up the lab.” She chuckles at the thought. Sonic suddenly starts stupidly giggling “he has a Mohawk! That’s so sick!” Amy realizes this too and starts laughing with him. Now Mangey is laughing!

They decide to show him to the others.

When Mangey and Tails meet, it’s like someone hit the pause button on time, aside from Tails’ eyes going from Mangey, to the hedgehogs, back to Mangey, and repeat. Mangey circles around Tails, getting the full sniff survey. Then he freezes again and gets in play position. Mangey is now having zoomies, running in and out of Tails’ workshop.

“Sonic. Amy. I love you both. You two have made me the man I am today, and I am eternally grateful for your love, support, and friendship. I would happily lay down my life for you. But WHAT THE HECK IS THIS??” Tails yells, gesturing to the rabid version of him “I don’t know where he came from. I don’t know why he’s here. He smells like the forest farted on him. He has a MOHAWK.”

Sonic laughs “apparently his name is Mangey and Eggman kidnapped him from another universe then dumped him on us because he was tearing up his lair.”

Tails’ face returns to a neutral expression “huh. I guess he’s not that bad then.”

Mangey suddenly sniffs the air. He bolts off into the bushes. The group hears screams of “TAILS NO, OFF!! WHAT ARE YOU DOIN??” then see Mangey dragging Sticks by her shoe out of the bushes while she bonks him on the head with her boomerang. Amy runs to her rescue “Mangey, no! Bad boy!” Mangey let’s Sticks go. He sits and hangs his head in guilt. Sticks stands up and dusts herself off “what that heck is wrong with him?!” Then she spots Tails. Sticks looks at him then at Mangey. She starts screaming “NOT AGAIN! I CANT HANDLE TAILS’ CLONES AGAIN!” Sticks makes distance between her and the foxes.

Amy explains to Sticks where Mangey came from. Sticks is concerned about the alien in their midst.

Knuckles has appeared! He waves “hey guys what’s up?” His voice gets the attention of Mangey. Mangey runs up to him with wagging tails. Knuckles crouches down to him “Tails! Digging the new style! Is that a Mohawk?” then he looks up and sees Tails, “…but. If you’re Tails.. then who’s this?” Knuckles questions. Mangey smiles, showing his fangs “Mangey!!” He announces. “Well, nice to meet you, Mangey! I’m Knuckles!” Knuckles gives Mangey some pats. It only makes sense that they’re besties.

The group discuss what to do with this lil guy. The lil guy in question is sitting on Sonics head. Mangey’s stomach rumbles. He gets off of Sonics head to look at him in sadness. He whimpers. “Are you hungry, lil guy?” Sonic asks, earning a nod from Mangey.

“I guess we take him to Meh Burger, then.” Tails says. Mangey tilts his head. Amy holds up a finger “Sticks and I will go. You boys watch Mangey.”

The boys groan “but why can’t we come?” Knuckles whines. Sticks puts her hands on her hips “we release him into the village, and there’ll be problems. The village still hasn’t recovered from the last Tails invasion.” That memory makes the demand sound reasonable.

The girls leave to retrieve the munchies. Mangey tries to get Tails to play with him again. Tails isn’t sure. He looks at Sonic and Knuckles who are smiling at him. Sonic makes a “go ahead” motion with his hand. Tails glares at him. Mangey tackles Tails to the ground. Tails retaliates in using his legs to push Mangey up and off of him. Mangey rolls onto the sand, but quickly gets back up. He gets in play stance, growling with a playful grin. Tails smirks at him “ok, you’re on.”

Sonic and Knuckles watch as the two wrestle in the sand.

“Can we keep Mangey?” Knuckles begs, clasping his hands together. Sonic shakes his head “no, Knux.”

“But he’s so cute!!”

“He is, but he has a home. His people probably miss him a lot.”

Knuckles sighs and hangs his head “you’re probably right..”

The girls come back with two bags. Mangey stops wrestling with Tails and comes full speed at Amy and Sticks. Sonic catches him and holds him in air jail. The bags are placed on a beach table. Sticks takes out a burger and unwraps it. Sonic puts Mangey back down. Sticks holds the burger up to Mangey. Mangey’s eyes glaze over and his pupils expand. He starts to drool as he stands extremely still. Sticks snickers “guys. Guys I’m scared. He’s gonna take my hand off-“ the others start laughing a little. Mangey’s lunge for the burger scares all of them. He clutches the burger in his hands and runs away giggling. He sits with his back turned to the others as he enjoys the greatest meal of his life. When he’s done, he returns to the others to beg for more. He’s able to score some fries.

Mangey discovers the ocean. He’s a bit wary of it, so Sticks has a solution to help him out. Sticks picks up a stick and whistles to get the kits attention “here, boy!! What’s this??” Mangey trots over to her to see what’s up. Sticks amps up her energy and waves the stick around “want this?? Want this??” Mangey goes on all fours and gets in play position. “GO GET IT!” Sticks chucks the stick into the water as hard as she can. Mangey romps into the water happily yipping. He’s just barely able to get the stick with his feet still touching the ground. Tails joins him in the water and shows him how to doggy paddle. Mangey puts his stick in his mouth and copies what Tails is doing. Mangey has forgot the stick needs to be returned, instead he doggy paddles to victory. Sticks calls him back, but has to chase him down to retrieve the stick.

During all this, Sonic pulls Amy aside “did Eggman say when and if he was going to get Mangey?”

Amy’s eyes shoot open “oh snap I forgot! No, he didn’t say.. we should go ask him. It’s not fair if Mangey is kept from his home.”

Sonic leaves in Blue Force 1 to Eggmans Lair. He breaks in as per usual, making Eggman upset “I THOUGHT I GAVE YOU A KEY!!” He roars, shaking a fist at the hedgehog. Sonic hisses “I forgot it at home.. whoopsie! Anyway! Egghead, do you have a way to get Mangey home?”

Eggman raises an eyebrow “you.. named him Mangey?”

“No, that’s what he says his name is when we ask him.”

“He can talk??”

“Yes. Now, plan or no plan?”

“Why, is he destroying your stuff too?”

“No.. Quit stalling, Eggman!”

Eggman huffs “I’m not stalling! I do have a plan! See, the warp I used to bring him here has a cool down.”

“Meaning..?”

“These types of machinery use up a lot of power, and can get pretty hot to the touch. If I use it too much, parts could get fried, or the entire thing could set on fire, and Mangey really would be stuck here. According to my timer here, there is 5 more minutes until cooldown is complete.”

Sonic nods, mumbling to himself so he won’t forget what a cool down is. He gives a thumbs up “I’ll bring the others here.” He bolts off.

Sonic notifies the others. They load into the Tornado. Sonic and Sticks are on the wings, and Knuckles is on a parachute behind. Amy is in the passenger seat with Mangey in her lap. She’s holding him so he doesn’t leap from the plane. Mangey is sticking his head off to the side with his tongue out. He has the most joyful expression.

They get to the lair.

Sonic pats Mangey “it’s been real, lil dude. Have a good life.”

Tails joins in the pats “it was real fun playing with you!”

Knuckles sniffles “we’re gonna miss you, man!”

Sticks gives Mangey the stick they played with “take this to remember me by.” She pats his head.

Amy is in the same boat as Knuckles “goodbye, Mangey.. I hope we can see you again sometime!”

Mangey smiles “bye bye!” He waves!

Eggman opens the portal. They see a faint figure on the other side “Mangey?? Mangey, where are you??” A woman’s voice called, panicked. Mangey runs into the portal. The woman calls for the others and announced she found Mangey. The portal closes.

They’re gonna miss the lil guy.

Tails wonders about other alternate versions of himself.

[storiesforallfandoms]

proposition ~ corpse husband

word count: 1880

request?: no

description: in which her friend invites her to play video games with them and she decides to playfully proposition the stranger with the deep voice

pairing: corpse x female!

warnings: swearing

masterlist

You had been bored out of your skull until you got a message from Sean asking you to play Among Us with some of his friends. You had met some of his closest friends, like Felix and Mark, of course, but he made sure to warn you that there would be some new people in this group. While that made you a little anxious, you knew that playing a video game would help you to warm up to the new people.

Sean sent you a link to the Discord call and you joined almost immediately. You weren’t sure if anyone else was in the call, so you didn’t speak for a moment while you set up the game. It wasn’t until an unnaturally low voice spoke that you realized you weren’t alone.

“Hello?”

You jumped at the voice, shocked that just that one word made your heart race a million miles a minute.

“H-Hello?” you responded.

“Who’s this?” the voice asked.

“Who’s this?” You immediately cringed at the lame response.

The voice chuckled, another sound that made your heart race. “I asked you first.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you finally responded. “I’m friends with Sean.”

“Oh yeah, he’s mentioned you a few times. I’m Corpse, I’m friends with Dave and Felix.”

“Corpse?” you question. “Is that your real name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You couldn’t help but smile at this. You were shocked at how fast you were warming up to Corpse, but there was just something about him that was just so warm and welcoming.

The two of you talked for some time until Sean popped into the chat. “Geez, (Y/N), you fucking nerd. You’re so early.”

“I had no other plans tonight!” you argued.

Corpse’s low chuckle alerted Sean that he was in the chat as well. “Ah, (Y/N) I see you’ve met deep daddy.”

Your face burned with blush, although you weren’t sure why. “Wait, deep daddy? Please tell me you guys don’t actually call in that.”

“Jason does,” came the familiar voice of Felix as he joined the chat. “Can’t blame him, Corpse’s voice even makes me question my marriage with Marzia.”

The more people that joined, the more jokes that were made about Corpse’s voice and how upset they were that Corpse was playing because he was such a good imposter. You sat in silence, chuckling every now and then but never really speaking. Not like anyone was giving you the chance with how much they were yelling over one another.

You started missing talking to Corpse one on one, but you knew the game had to happen eventually. You just hoped that it would go better than you were expecting.

The first few games started with you as a crewmate. You were killed first in the first game by Sean, who immediately self reported and got voted out because of it. The second game, you made it three rounds before catching Toast kill someone and got him out. The third game, you were in the other room when Corpse killed someone and he blamed you, leading to you getting voted off.

By the time the fourth round came around, you were teamed up with Corpse as the imposter.

“Easy dub,” you commented to yourself. “He’s too good. He’s gotten imposter like three times in a row and no one has noticed.”

You followed Corpse for a while, pretending to do tasks with him. You walked into a room that had only Felix and Rae when your kill button was ready to go. At the same time, you and Corpse killed them both and raced out of the room.  You were about to kill Sean when Toast found Felix and Rae’s bodies.

“I don’t want to sound sus by pointing fingers,” he began, “but Corpse and (Y/N), you haven’t left one another’s sides all game. What the fuck?”

“I’m watching her back,” Corpse responded before you could say anything. “(Y/N) is so small and innocent, if she died on my watch I would never forgive myself.”

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at this.

“You blamed her for your killing last game!” Leslie argued.

“That was last game! I’m not imposter now!” Corpse responded.

“If Corpse was imposter I fully believe he would’ve killed me by now,” you added. “He has no reason to keep me alive.”

“Unless he likes you,” Jason singsonged, causing the group to all talk at once about you and Corpse.

“Get back to the game!” you called over them, even though the thought of Corpse potentially liking you made you feel butterflies in your stomach.

No one was ejected (Skipped).

You tried not to think about what everyone had been saying, but it was hard not to. You didn’t know what Corpse looked like, he made you aware that no one knew except for a select few YouTube friends, but you found yourself drawn to him. Sure, his voice was hot, but in the short time you two had to talk together you found that his personality was equally as attractive. 

The distraction caused you to forget what you were doing and almost kill right in front of Toast. You held your breath, hoping you hadn’t accidentally clicked on the mouse and absolutely decapitated Sean right in front of someone. When nothing happened, you quickly ran out of the room and as far away from them as possible.

Your phone chimed. You took your eyes off the screen for a moment to see that it was a private message on Discord from none other than Corpse himself.

“What was that about? 😂”

“I was distracted and almost killed Sean in front of Toast. Had to make a speedy exit.”

“What were you distracted by? 😉"

Lucky for you, another meeting was called before you could respond.

“Okay, for real (Y/N),” came Toast’s voice. “What the fuck is going on? You were just stood in admin with me and Sean, then suddenly you raced out, and now you’re just standing in the middle of the cafeteria not moving at all.”

“She’s distracted,” came Corpse’s voice before you could respond.

You felt your face heating up again. “I was distracted, by my dog. He’s currently at my feet with his toy. He keeps looking at me with his big eyes, it’s hard to concentrate.”

“Awe, send me a picture of the little guy! I miss him a lot!” Sean said.

No one was ejected (Skipped).

You took a deep breath and concentrated on the game. You decided to stick with Corpse again, only breaking off to make it look like you were fixing the sabotages that you were setting. You and Corpse managed to kill three other bodies, leaving you with one more to kill before winning. And you knew exactly who you wanted it to be.

You sent Corpse a quick message before going to look for Sean.

“Do not kill anyone, leave this to me”

Seconds later you got a response. “Aye aye captain.”

You entered electrical as Sean was doing a task. You walked up behind him and hit the kill button without hesitation. You watched your character cut his body in half before the victory screen came up for you and Corpse.

“I fucking knew it!” Toast exclaimed. “You guys were too sus!”

“What can I say, we make a good team, right (Y/N)?”

You smiled to yourself as you responded, “Yeah, we do.”

Everyone started talking the one time again, joking around with each other. You started feeling like you were fading into the background again, which normally you’d be okay with, but you were starting to feel more comfortable with the group. You wanted to feel more comfortable with Sean’s friends, especially with Corpse.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head. You smirked to yourself as you declared into your mic, “Guys! Guys, I have something I wanna say! Everyone, shush!”

The talking soon died down as everyone listened to you intently. Your heart was hammering in your chest, but you knew there was no backing out of it now.

“I have a proposition for Corpse,” you said, which was met by cheers and exclamations of excitement. When everyone silent down again, you took a deep breath and forced the words out before you chickened out. “Corpse, are you single?”

You heard his low chuckle through the voices talking excitedly. “I am single, yes.”

“Good to know.”

There was a silence as everyone waited to see if you’d follow up on your comment. When you didn’t, Sean exclaimed, “What was the proposition?!”

“Wouldn’t you guys like to know,” you said with a knowing smirk to yourself.

The game went on for another few hours before you finally had to call it a night. You said goodbye to everyone and exited the game. While shutting down your computer and getting ready for bed, your phone chimed. Another message from Discord.

“It was really nice meeting you tonight. We make a pretty good imposter team, you should play with us more often.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Corpse’s message. You felt like a giddy teenage girl as you got into bed, clutching your phone tightly in your hands.

“It was really fun, I’m glad Sean invited me. I’ll definitely come play more in the future if you guys want me!”

You saw the three dots pop up, showing that Corpse was typing. They went away a moment, then popped up again, then away again. This happened a few more times before another message came in.

“About that proposition...”

“What about it? 😉”

“Was just wondering how serious you were about it, or if there was an actual proposition at all.”

You looked at the message for a long time. Of course, at the time you didn’t think it was serious. It was just a fun joke at the expense of your friends. But now that he was asking...what did you say?

You thought about your message for a long time before typing, “I was as serious as you want me to be.”

There was an extended pause on Corpse’s end before he responded, “Well, I know we just met, but I’m pretty serious about it. I’d like to get to know you more. You seem like a really nice girl.”

“You seem like a nice guy.”

“Can I Skype you tomorrow?”

The question shocked you considering what he had told you earlier. “You’re willing to show me your face?”

“Only a select few know what I look like, I trust you to be one of those few.”

Your heart fluttered yet again as you typed your response. “Well then, I’d love to Skype tomorrow. I’ll send you my name so you can add me.”

You laid back in bed after adding Corpse to Skype, feeling excited for the next day. You could hardly sleep now thinking about what you’d get to do in almost 12 hours time. It felt like too far away, you wanted to call him right then and there.

Just as you were starting to drift to sleep, your phone chimed again. You checked it one last time before bed to see a final message from Corpse.

“Goodnight, see you tomorrow”

“Goodnight Corpse, see you tomorrow”

[babbling-idiot2]

Raoul Silva x reader

Requested: “Hello!! May I please request a Raoul Silva x female reader? Where the reader works with Bond, but for a time is kidnapped by Silva and then when she escapes and works with Bond again she is conflicted because she has feelings for Silva and then there is a showdown between her and Silva but she doesn’t shoot him when she has the chance?? And then they end up kissing. (Bond is not around) If that is waaaaaay too specific, I completely understand. I’m also a writer and really like this idea, I just don’t have any motivation right now. But If that’s too specific, then just something Silva x reader please?? If not, that’s cool! Thanks and have a blessed week!” -By Anon

Warning:

(Hello! Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy this. It’s actually kind of funny I had a fic for him in the drafts but never got around to posting it. But this was a better idea then mine so, I hope you enjoy!!)

*****

It wasn't suppose to be hard. Nor was it ever hard to do your job. Sure a few bruises and cuts here and there but it was your job and you enjoyed it. You have feared for your life before but at this point in time you weren't that scared anymore. Especially when it involved getting kidnapped. Now you had gotten kidnapped before. But it was also so easy and almost boring. Like they didn't try anymore. Well that was until you got kidnapped by a man named Raoul Silva. You knew him from a brief glimpse of a case file yet you didn't know enough to be interested. Only in the fact he is a ex MI6 agent. That's the only thing that caught you attention. 

In training you are taught many things. One being to never get involved with the target. Ever. If you did you would also be terminated. So, you never ever were involved with anyone. Even outside of your job. But luck would have it, as you've found yourself in quite a pickle. Did you get kidnapped? Yes. Was it on purpose? Well of course not. Did you know who kidnapped you? No! But it was quite the shocker to find out the ex MI6 agent, Raoul Silva had been the one behind it. When you were finally sat down. You sat in an empty room. Filled with high tech computer equipment and the sound of people moving around behind you. Mostly out of boredom and the fact that they themselves are bored with this charade. Then as you were also getting bored, you hear an elevator. You looked forward and could clearly see an elevator opening at the end of the room. Silva steps out and begins walking over to you. "Miss Williams. It is truly a pleasure to finally meet you. I must say that I have read much about you." He’s close enough now that your finally able to see him up close. You shouldn’t be thinking this about your kidnapper but he was very much more attractive then his picture "Good things I hope." "Oh nothing less of good I can assure you. Though I am disappointed they left out so much." You continue to look at him, trying to figure out where he was going with this, already having a good idea "Well that's the point isn't it? To keep as much personal information out of the files?" He tilts his head and nods slightly "Yes. I suppose that's correct but I must admit, I would like to know more about you before I get to the real reason why I brought you here. If you don't mind?"  You raise and eyebrow curiously as you continue to follow him with your eyes. You didn't answer and he seemed to just take that as a yes. He was walking around the area, not once making his way towards a chair. He kept walking, pacing in the same line as he questioned you on your past. "From what I know, you were a top student in school. A plusses and never once a B. You were dedicated to learning everything. You even graduated 2 years earlier than your classmates. Did you enjoy it? High-school, I mean." You shrugged your shoulders "Its hard to remember everything, since it was a little while ago. I do remember enjoying it though. Many good memories." He hums out in either approval or refusal. Which turns out to be refusal. "I do not believe that. You see your file here says, 'School for miss Williams was, in her words: Troubling, I was bullied a lot and had no friends. My studies were the only thing I focused on. I was the laughing stock of my high school career." You didn't say a word, you had no idea that he was really seeing your file right in front of him. "Now Miss Williams, you were bullied, treated horribly and now you are an MI6 agent. Says you've never had any infatuation for anyone in your life. Is that true?" You close your eyes and shake your head "No. I've never been in a relationship nor do I ever want one." He chuckles and looks at you, straight in the eyes "Miss Williams you do know I have your file here and every word you've said is a lie. I do not think that is a good idea. Tell the truth." He says now looking at the file again. This time you roll your eyes and adjust yourself in the seat "I was in one relationship in college. We only dated a week." "Why?" "Because he was a creep. And an asshole." "See now that is what a want to hear. The truth!" You roll your eyes again and become even more annoyed. 

You had no idea how long it had been but what was for sure was that it was long enough. You could hear the sounds of gun fire coming from outside of the building you were in. You thought for a moment that you were hearing things but when you heard the door being slammed open and the sound of an MI6 agent calling your name, relief washed over you. You were soon taken onto one the helicopters and was taken back to HQ. There you were met by a medical team and M. She was glad to see you walking and not in a body bag. She nodded your way before telling the medical team to take care of your. Also ordering you to go with them, knowing how much you hated any kind of medical attention. But you agreed and went along anyway.

Not even a day later you were reunited back with bond and even he was happy to see you again. But sadly even though reuniting gave you a slight feeling of happiness, you were conflicted. For a time you didn’t know what by. Was it work? Did you receive bad news? Did you say something and regret it? You had no idea, until it hit you one day like a truck. You thought back to when you got kidnapped by Raoul Silva. You couldn’t get him out of your mind. It was like he was an infection in your brain and you couldn’t get rid of it. Bond could tell something was wrong with you. Just by looking at you for an extended period of time, he could tell. But he had no idea what it was or better yet, who it was. 

You were ordered to go after him. Simple task, easy enough right? Well not exactly. You were hot on his trail, right behind him and yet he was just that much faster then you. Suddenly out of know where he turned this corner and right before this very large door could close you just made it through when it closed with a loud thud. Silva was at a dead end and had no where to go besides the way you came. When he turned around you already had a gun pointed in his direction. Completely prepared to shoot him if he made one wrong move. He knew that you would so, he would have to choose his next words and moves very carefully. “Miss Williams, I am very amazed at how you caught up so quick. I was not prepared for this encounter today.” “Yes well, you’ve screwed up your chances at getting out. I suggest you make yourself comfortable.” You say gesturing to the ground. He knew you wanted him to sit down on the ground but he couldn’t let that happen. “Miss Williams, Or better yet, Y/n? We both know that you won’t shoot me.” He says stepping closer. Though the fact that he knew your name was quite jarring, it didn’t impair your judgement. It was a sign that he was trying to get close. And you most definitely couldn’t let that happen. You pulled the hammer of your gun back and stepped a bit closer, keeping eye contact as to try to intimidate him. “You really think I’m afraid of what M will do if I shoot someone like you? I could care less. You’re actually lucky your up and walking now.” You never once let your confident and intimidating persona drop, not around him and at a time like this, it would be game over for you. But Silva was smart and he could see through your demeanor. “You are smart Miss Y/n. And you hide your private life so well. So hidden like a hermit in the sand. Yet I see right through the cracks. You have feelings for me.” You clench your jaw and shake your head “In your dreams Silva. I could never like someone like you.” “In my dreams? No, no, no y/n. In your dreams. You’ve thought about me since the day you got kidnapped by my men. Ever since you saw me and now, you cant get me out of your head. You can’t hide your feelings for me y/n.” He says now even more closer then he was before. You couldn’t back up anymore, for the door was closed and there was no escape from this. Your finger tightened and he saw this. He reached his hand out. Hoping that you wouldn't pull the trigger. Your brain told you to pull the trigger and end all of this now. But the more irrational part of you held you back. When he got close enough he wrapped his fingers steadily around the barrel of the pistol. He directed it out of the line of his face and slowly stepped into your personal space. He smiled at you and tilted his head at you. “There we are. I knew you couldn’t shoot me.” “It’s the worse decision I’ve ever made. I’m just as good as dead as your are now.” he starts to shake his head at you “No! No, no, no, no my dear! No one will know about this. Not even Bond. You just have to keep this a secret. You’re good at that, right?” You clench your jaw at hearing that. Keeping a secret from the MI6 was like trying to keep candy from a toddler. But nevertheless you nod your head and look to the side. You weren’t looking away for long until you felt a hand on your chin pulling you back. You looked back at Silva and saw a look in his eyes. You weren't sure what it was but what he did next gave you a good idea. He leaned forward and kissed you. It wasn’t for long but it definitely took the breath out of you. When he pulled away, on instinct you chased him slightly. When you realized what you did you looked away embarrassingly. Hoping he didn’t notice. He did, and smiled from ear to ear. Kissing your forehead and the side of your face. He leaned down where his mouth was near your ear before whispering “You should never feel embarrassed around me dear. I want to see you for you, not what they made of you.” You swallowed your embarrassment and looked up at him before leaning in slowly to kiss him back. It was quick, nervous and very sloppy. You were sure you kissed the side of his mouth. He smiled nonetheless and looked down at his wrist. Sighing out in annoyance he looks back to you. “I’m very sorry my dear, but I must end this meeting. I am suppose to meet my men in 5 minutes or our plan is ruined. Till next time my dear.” As he was walking away you stared confusingly at him. “Wait so this was part of the plan wasn’t it?” He turned back as he was about to pull a hatch open that was in the ground. He smiled at you cheekily. “My dear, I have a plan for everything.” He says as he closes the hatch behind him. You stared wide eyed at the hatch before you. 

“Well then, where did he go Williams?” You sighed out in annoyance “Like I told you before. I went down the hatch as I saw him do, when I got to the bottom he wasn’t there. He was gone. I ran to the end and searched. He was gone.” M stared at you, disappointment lacing her features as she looked at you. You could practically feel it by now. She shook her head and waved you off not bothering to say another word to you. You rolled your eyes and walked out. Fully intending to just go home. 

When you got there you hung your coat up and slipped your shoes off at the door, barley noticing the other pair of shoes right there next to yours. You looked up and sure enough you could see the back of someone's head sitting on your couch. You didn’t have your gun, and hand to hand combat was the only thing you had up your sleeves at the moment. When you came around the couch all thoughts of intruder and fighting left your mind. Silva was sitting there flipping through one of your magazines you had sitting on your table. “You know, you should invest in better security and better reading material.” He says still eyeing the magazine. “And you know I have a full bookcase right there? Also I like to be notified when I have company before they come over. I hate surprises.” He smiles and lays the magazine down, looking up to you with the same smile on his face. “But you like me, so it’s a welcomed one.” You shake your head smiling before walking over to the kitchen. You looked back and he was still seated there, looking out into space of your living room. You had no idea how you were going to deal with him. You had no idea how long this would go on for, but only time could tell now.

*****

(Hello so, I hope you liked this! If you did, any kind of feedback is amazing and highly appreciated! I hope you enjoyed and I hope you have an amazing day/night and stay safe out there in the world!)

[rivers-rambles21]

The one with the flipping

Part 10 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from  a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, (later chapters)

We’re starting to see more from The Falcon and The Winter Soldier - there are some bits taken from the show to help shape the story.

We’ll also be seeing Y/N & Bucky texting whilst he’s away

Chapter 10 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

It didn’t feel right with Bucky away. Although he’d only been gone for just over a day you felt the void he left. Over the past few months you’d become inseparable, seeing each other every day - whether it be hitting the gym together, cooking or just hanging out.

After coming home from yet another terrible day at work, you wanted nothing more than to open a bottle of wine and binge watch TV with Bucky who was undoubtedly now your best friend. 

You were two glasses in when you heard a banging outside your apartment door. 

Stepping out into the hallway you were greeted with two cops hammering away on Bucky’s door, nearly breaking it clean off. “Excuse me, can I help you?” 

Both officers quickly spun on the spot and reached for their guns, stopping when they saw you were on your own. “Do you know the man who lives here?” 

“Yes, do you?”

“Ma’am do you know where he is?” 

“No I don’t” You lied, not trusting the two men infront of you. 

One of their radios suddenly turned on “-he’s is now in custody in Baltimore” 

Both cops nodded to one another before turning back to you. “Nevermind ma’am” 

You watched as they left as quickly as they arrived before running back into your apartment, grabbing your phone and frantically calling Bucky. You tried a few more times before stuffing your wallet into your purse and heading for the door. 

Fortunately you managed to catch a last minute flight to Baltimore after confirming with the police precinct they were holding him in . You hadn’t thought twice about going to him, your heart ached at the thought of him being confined to a cell, trapping him like an animal. 

After paying the cab driver your fare, you sprinted into the precinct heading straight for the desk. 

“Hi, you’re holding my friend Bucky -�� I mean James Barnes.” You panted, tired from the sprint to the officer behind the desk.

“Who the hell are you?” 

Turning around, you came face to face with someone you instantly recognised. “Falcon” You grinned, a little bit star struck at meeting an actual Avenger. 

Sure Bucky was one too but to you he wasn’t some superhero on the evening news who fought aliens and terrorists, he was just Bucky - your friend who stole your food and listened to your never ending rants. 

Realising you hadn’t answered his question, you continued. “I’m Y/N, a friend of Bucky’s.” You extended your hand out to him which he shook. 

“Sam” He replied, releasing your hand from his. 

“The one who believes wizards are real” You joked, trying to remove the tension. 

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told the cyborg, a wizard is a sorcerer without a hat!”

“Uhuh” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Have they said when they’ll let him out yet?” 

Sam gestured you to the seating area and sat down. “Once his therapist arrives they’ll let him out.” You sat in comfortable silence for a few moments as the busy precinct bustled around you, cops and civilians passing through constantly. 

Sam was the first to break the silence. 

“Do you want to watch a funny video?”

The first time you watched the video of Bucky jumping out of the plane you were worried sick he’d hurt himself with his terrible landing. But by the fifth time watching it you’d found it hysterical as you laughed along with Sam as you watched the video over and over again from different angles to kill the time. 

Reluctantly, you left the waiting area and headed to the restroom to relieve yourself. When you came back you were stumped to find Sam wasn’t where you’d left him. 

“Excuse me, do you know where the man that was sat there went?” You asked the officer behind the desk. 

“Therapy session” She replied, pointing towards the double doors before returning back to furiously typing on her computer. 

“Thanks” You muttered before returning back to your seat, patiently waiting. 

You didn’t have to wait for long before Sam came back with an annoyed look etched across his face. “He’ll be out in a minute” he said as he passed by you, heading for the exit. 

With a sigh of relief you stood from your seat and adjusted your clothing as you watched the door with eager eyes. 

The moment you saw him through the small windows you felt all the stress and anxiety of the day seep out of you as you saw he was relatively okay. 

Bucky must have been distracted as he didn’t notice you standing in front of him until his eyes landed on you, his mouth hanging open in shock. 

“Hey Buck” 

“Doll what are you doing here?” He asked as he strode over to you, pulling you into him in a tight hug, your face pressed against his warm chest. Your arms wound around his back, pulling him in closer, his scent overwhelming your senses. He left a kiss upon your head before pulling back slightly to look down at you, searching for answers. 

“Cops came to your apartment looking for you, and then I heard they’d got you and I just panicked. Are you okay?” Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hand, your thumb stroking his soft cheek. 

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he opened them again, suddenly aware of where you were. 

“C’mon lets get out of here.” Taking your hand in his, he led you out of the station and into the fresh evening air. 

A shiver ran down your spine as the cold air hit your bare arms. In your rush to go after Bucky you’d foolishly foregone a jacket. 

Instantly noticing your discomfort, Bucky dropped your hand and shrugged his jacket off and wrapped it around your shoulders, the leather swamping your form. 

“Thanks” You said shyly, Bucky merely smiled back at you in response. 

“Well I feel better” Sam’s voice broke you out of the moment as he walked up to you both. Bucky opened his mouth to respond before being interrupted by the sound of a siren and flashing lights.

“Gentlemen!” You recognised the voice from the news - the Captain America knock off. “Good to see you again.” 

You felt Bucky's hand slide down your arm to grasp your hand once again as he walked towards the imposter, angling you behind him. 

“Look, if we divide ourselves, we don’t stand a chance, you guys know that.” 

“So what do you got?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes. 

“Well the leaders name’s Karli Morgenthau. We’ve been targeting civilians who’ve been helping Karli move from place to place.”

“They geotagged a location then scrambled the signal. But our satellites have found their symbol popping up in various displaced communities all across Central and Eastern Europe.”

“We think she’s taking the medicine she just stole to one of these camps.” 

“Well, there are hundreds of those all over the planet since The Blip so I guess you’ll have to look real hard.” If it wasn’t for present company you’d have rolled your eyes at Bucky’s sarcasm.

“Good thing I have 20/20 vision, huh?”

“Where is she now, Walker? Do you know?” 

“No we don’t know Bucky. It’s only a matter of time before we find out”  

“Things are really intense for you, aren’t they Walker” Your lips twitched as you fought off a smirk.

“Take it easy. Look Walker’s right. It is imperative that we find them and stop them. But you guys have rules of engagement and all kinds of authorisations you have to get. We’re free agents. We’re more flexible. So it wouldn’t make sense for us to work with you.” 

You all turned to walk away, Bucky squeezing your hand as you did before fake Captain America stopped you in your tracks. “A word of advice then… stay the hell out of my way.” The two men turned and began to walk before Walker stopped again. “Nice to finally meet you Y/N” 

You felt Bucky tense as he turned back to the two men, his eyes glaring at them. Gently, you squeezed his hand and tugged his arm, pulling him back towards Sam, not bothering to respond to dumb and dumber. Looking down at you, he sighed before complying. 

With one last glance behind, you raised your hand as though to wave before smirking and flipping them both off instead - earning a chuckle from Sam.

A few blocks later, Sam hung back to give you and Bucky a moment alone. 

“I can’t believe you came for me doll” Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you, he kept switching from rubbing your arms to keep you warm and tucking pieces of hair behind your ears. After the day he’d had you was a welcome sight, reminding him that not everything in his life was terrible. 

“Of course I did” You replied, confused as to why he would even doubt it. “I’d do anything for you.” Your confession came as a shock to both of you. You weren’t quite sure as to why you voiced your feelings, maybe it was the day of stress finally getting to you, or the realisation what Bucky and Sam was up to was dangerous and you feared losing him. But regardless of your reasoning, you didn’t regret saying it. 

Bucky's breath hitched as his blue eyes searched yours, looking for the moment where you’d crack a smile and make a joke out of it. But that didn’t happen. 

Gently, Bucky leant forward and pressed his lips against your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling back. “I don’t want you getting caught up in this doll.” His right hand cradled the back of your head as his eyes sought yours, trying to memorise every part of your face, committing it to memory. 

“I’ll stay out of it, I promise. I just couldn’t bear the thought of you caged up again-” Your voice had become erratic as you processed the days events. Bucky pulled you into another hug, silencing you as he did, his metal hand rubbing up and down your back. 

“I’ll be fine y’know that right? But I have to stop these people Y/N, the serum can’t end up in the wrong hands. I need you to trust me, to trust I know what I’m doing.” 

You merely nodded in response, too caught up in the feeling of being in his arms. 

Bucky pulled away from the hug and stroked your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t realised had fallen. “Cmon, where’s that smile?” 

You couldn’t resist his boyish charm and smiled back at him, although weakly. 

“Attagirl”

__________________

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 @xpurpleglitter​

[themockingcrows]

Doki Doki Grist Panic Ch. 4

Another chapter of my Magical Boy fic, sorry for such a long wait while I got my brain in order!

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27802735/chapters/79562023

This chapter is sfw!

Soft, repetitive beeps were the first things Dave heard when he woke. The whirring of machinery, of a barely there fan spinning in a metal case. He’d know the sounds of technology anywhere, used to the hum and breath of his own computer tower in his room. Nothing was overheating, the room was a comfortable temperature, just warm enough to feel cozy where his skin touched itself at the crooks of his elbows and the backs of his legs. He was aware he was lying on his side, but it was so hard to wake up. Opening his eyes felt far too difficult, let alone moving his limbs. Dave settled for a fingertip stroking at what felt like a blanket or sheet beneath his body and sighed a breath exhaustedly.

It wasn’t fully dark in the room. He must have left his lamp on at the desk and taken a nap, or the door was open somewhat to let in light from the hallway and living room. He didn’t hear anything from the front room, Bro must be napping as well or doing something with his headphones on at his computer. Maybe dinner was cooking, or he was waiting for something to be delivered, indulging in his free time doing this or that. It was a comfortable silence. Dave blinked a few slow times before taking in the strange blue tone to the room’s light, cooler than his usual warm home light. Bulb change? Slowly he rubbed at his face and slid to his back, wanting to stare at the ceiling so he could come back to himself more and wake up properly.

This wasn’t his ceiling.

Instead of the textured white ceiling he was used to seeing for so many years, the ceiling was metallic and matte in color. The walls were matte as well, though at least they were white as his own were. Fat load of good it did him, considering the walls didn’t look familiar in the slightest either. Where WAS this place? This wasn’t his room, it wasn’t the living room for sure. Was it a friend’s house? A hospital?

Dave sat upright and lifted his hands to his throat, his face, a sudden feeling of breathlessness hitting him as he panicked. Breathless… It all came flooding back to him in a rush, mind swimming. The attack, the lack of air, choking, suffocating. But it still didn’t answer the question of where he was, nor what was happening. When he went to rock to his knees, Dave paused, feeling a tug of fabric at his waist and chest. That… didn’t make sense, his uniform wouldn’t do that, nor would his casual clothes. Instead of wearing either outfits, he was draped in a soft white material that was tied at the waist with a woven red cord, though he couldn’t guess what type of fabric it was. It was too soft to be linen, too sturdy to be cotton, and didn’t match anything he’d ever felt. Were it not such a mystery he’d probably even go to say it was quite comfortable.

… Where were his boxers?

Who had undressed him? Even the lack of transformation would be something of importance, he’d go back to his civilian clothes, not… whatever this was. When he finally managed to stand, the room span and he sank back down to sit for a moment on the edge of the bed with a grimace, taking it all in as his mind raced in circles like a penned dog. Dave realized that it wasn’t just the garment that was covering him either, but what looked and felt like strings of pearls and golden beads. They were settled around his neck as if wrapped specifically to make a draping effect over his chest and shoulders here and there, and clasped together at the ends behind his neck with what felt like a filigree hook. Someone had taken great care to dress him like this, but why? Who?

Panic rising in his throat like bitter bile, Dave stood slower this time and headed for the cracked doorway, surprised to find the room unguarded. Cameras? Or was there some other way he was being watched? Paranoia ate at him, but when he poked his head out into the blue toned hallway, he heard nothing but the same soft hum of machinery, felt the cool air blowing from unseen vents. Barefooted, he padded along down this hallway to the left of his room, prepared for any threat. ...Or. Well, as prepared as one could be while unarmed. Dave knew how to defend himself while unarmed well enough, but the desire to have a sword was strong. Maybe he should change before exploring further, get his powerup back and-

“You’re awake. I was wondering how long you were going to be unconscious for. So long as your brain waves were healthy and strong I wasn’t worried, at least. It’s fascinating how fragile humans are once you remove their air.”

Dave froze in place. He knew that voice, but the things it was saying weren’t making sense to his brain. John wouldn’t talk like that, but that was the first person that came to mind upon hearing that specific tone and cadence, the way it handled words as if they were fluid on one's tongue instead of just a thought. Swallowing and taking a deeper breath, he rolled his shoulders back and strode to the full end of the hallway and the room it opened into.

The space was massive. The hums were definitely computers, projecting screens and physical and digital keyboards everywhere, holograms and different moving charts and images dancing in the air. Each wall seemed to have some kind of a space background, stars and a moon, a view of the Earth like a peaceful screensaver. In the center of it all stood a figure with glowing eyes and gray skin, unfamiliar clothing and decoration adorning him, a serene look on his face. He looked calm, in control, but there was no hostility to be seen.

“You can come closer. I’m not interested in fighting you,” he said.

Dave frowned and strode closer, observing the different screens as he went, unable to read any of the angular text he saw. When he was a more reasonable distance from him, he finally talked.

“So you’re the one that brought me here.” It was John. Closer, he could see the shape of his eyes, his mouth, the way his hair sat on his head, his broad shoulders. The appearance had changed, but the core was definitely the same. His stomach churned sickly. He’d kissed this person. He’d been held by this person. He’d contemplated doing more with this person, and it was all a lie.

“You seem surprised and yet not surprised enough,” he said with a hint of a smile. It looked a little forced, stiff at the edges of his mouth as if the gesture were foreign to him. “Might I ask who you were expecting?”

“...Nobody specific,” Dave admitted, trying to keep his cool. “Where is here though? I assume you can at least tell me that.”

John lifted his foot and stomped downwards, forcing the ground to shimmer for a moment before it turned pitched black and then seemed to dissolve. The space pattern from the walls blended to the rest of the floor, leaving them seemingly free floating in space despite walking on solid ground.

“I’d thought it would be fairly obvious, but I suppose even someone like you might have been confused at first. Does this clarify things, then?”

Space. Dave knew Bro had gone before, he’d talked about it in the past, but never did he think he’d get to see it himself. Much less in a situation like this one. His fingers curled into the sides of the new draping clothing he wore, steeling himself as he stared directly down towards nothingness. If Earth was on the wall’s side, then they must be at an angle without even being able to feel it. Whatever technology was doing this was astounding.

A gray hand was suddenly touching his cheek, cold and lifeless feeling, and Dave jerked his head up and took a step backwards to put some distance between them again. The look in his eyes could peel paint, aggressively defiant as he’d been during battle, though this time with the added benefit of betrayal as well. This person had lied to him, led him on, played with his emotions. Made a fool of him. He was a moron. Of course he couldn’t have nice things like romance, they weren’t possible for someone with his kind of career. This just hammered that idea home even harder than before in a way that made tears sting in his eyes and threaten to show themselves.

He kept them down out of sheer spite.

“You hate me so much already,” John mused. “Not even a moment's hesitation before pulling back.”

“You’re not John.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re not my John.”

“We are one in the same, Dave. Open your eyes to reality,” John said with a flourish of his arms, displaying himself in his entirety as if he hadn’t been seen properly before. “It doesn’t have to be so bad. Think of the possibilities you’re being afforded.”

“Possibilities? Don’t make me laugh,” he nearly spat. “My John might as well be dead now. I don’t care if you’re the same person, the John I gave a shit about wouldn’t be my enemy. I fell in love with a lie, but it was a wonderful lie, don’t even pretend to act like you’re remotely the same thing.”

John sighed a little and rolled his head on his neck to stretch it before rubbing a few strands of hair behind his ear. “You’re really in denial, aren’t you. I’m the same John. I have the same feelings for you, those weren’t a lie. The only lie is that I’m not human. I’ve no intention of hurting you.”

“You fucking suffocated me!” Dave reminded him with a hiss.

“It was the quickest way to end the battle and sequester you away,” John shrugged. “Would you rather I have beaten you senseless with my hammer? It could be arranged now, if you’d prefer. But I’d dislike crushing your pretty face.”

Dave scowled and clenched his fists tight enough that he felt his nails cutting into his palms. “What do you want with me. Hurry this up, I’ve got places to be.”

“You talk as if you’re getting out of here easily,” John mused. “But since you’re here, I’ll go ahead and extend my offer formally.”

“Offer?”

“Yes,” John said, taking a step closer in an attempt to close the gap, though it renewed itself almost immediately when Dave backstepped again to keep distance between them. Frustrating, but fine, he’d deal with it. “I’d like for you to come back with me to my planet.”

“...Why.”

“Why? Because I like you, Dave. I enjoy your company. You are… special to me. I would enjoy keeping you by my side.”

“Cute words, but you still kidnapped my ass and dressed me up like some toy. You’re not exactly still on the boyfriend pedestal,” Dave pointed out. “Why not just find someone on your planet?”

“There’s nobody left for me there,” he said simply, flatly. “It’s why when I’m done here, I’d prefer to keep you with me. I’ve got the technology to make sure you adjust to our atmosphere once it’s restored, an-”

“Restored?”

John reached a practiced hand out to tap at a keyboard, bringing up a specific hologram of a ruined looking planet. Smaller screens lit up around it showing devastation, pollution, destruction both natural and man made. There was a distinct lack of life. “Restored. All it’ll take is enough grist, and my world can be restored to its former beauty. It’s not the same as Earth, there’s a lot different about it. But it’s beautiful in its own way, when it’s healthy and alive.”

“Why is it your job to fix your planet? If you’re the only one left, why not just live here? We have problems, yeah, but there’s plenty of roo-” Dave started, only to be interrupted.

“Because I’m it’s guardian,” John said simply. “I have a chance to save and restore it, to restore everything to how it was but better. I can fix things. I have that power, and I intend to use it. I just need grist from Earth, and my home will come back.”

“How much grist do you need…?” he asked, already having a sense before getting confirmation.

“All of it, preferably. I could work with less, but if I’m here already why not just drain the damned place and be done with it.”

Dave finally took a step forward aggressively.

“So that’s the entire plan? Destroy Earth, gain grist, revive a dead planet?”

“And have you at my side for the duration. You’d love my world, Dave. You’d be loved there. You wouldn’t have to risk your neck all the time as a guardian nobody is grateful to, either,” John explained, grin widening in an almost manic way. “Once I’m the one to restore things, everyone will realize they have a guardian with that power. That I’ll exist to them as more than a vague concept of right and wrong, that I’m a real person, and that I gave them their life back. It will be beautiful.”

The aggressive stance slackened somewhat as Dave shifted his weight back towards his heel.

“You’re crazy.”

“Am I? Or are you just not looking at the big picture clearly,” John said, pulling out his hammer from thin air with a shimmer. He was a guardian. They were the same, and yet, so obviously different in every way. John tossed the weapon easily in one hand, unbothered by its weight in the slightest, then pointed it at Dave before gesturing to the rest of the room. “I’m offering you a place by my side, an entire world. This is an easy choice, Dave. We were getting so close…”

“If I knew this side of you, I’d never have even called you a friend,” Dave said, trying not to flinch when the hammer swung down sharp enough it made stinging air snap against his face. “I’m a guardian of Earth, John. You know I’d never accept this kind of offer. I can’t let you do as you please. I’m offering you a hand again to join Earth, but that’s as far as this goes.”

“Fuck the Earth!” John shouted, eyes blazing. “It's time as the crown jewel of the milky way is over, Dave, open your eyes! Look at the writing on the wall! War, famine, pollution, greed. Your planet is going down the same path my planet did at first. It’s on its way out now. It’s dimming. Yet, it still has a chance to be useful. It can restart my planet, it can become a utopia, like it always had the potential to! A second chance!”

“And why the fuck should I let you kill my planet to restart yours? What makes all our lives inferior?” demanded Dave, jaw tense. This guy was crazy. Absolutely fucking crazy.

“It’s nothing personal, Dave. It’s just business. We can always work together to find another planet to restart yours the same way, another world chock full of grist for the taking. We could work together, even. Keep both our planets safe. It’d be great, it-”

“Isn’t going to ever happen.”

“Dave.”

“I’m not going to let you lay your fucking hands on anything of mine ever again. The Earth is off limits to your grist mining.”

“Dave, listen to me.”

“The offer to remain as a friend of the planet is on the table still, but from the sound of things you’re expecting more. It’s not going to happen. I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Dave,” John said again, sounding pained. The grip on his hammer tightened with every word, face desperate and tense.

“Not now, not ever. This planet is my responsibility.”

“Dave, listen!” John shouted.

“I DON’T HAVE TO LISTEN TO A FUCKING THING YOU SAY WHEN YOU’RE TALKING SO NONCHALANTLY ABOUT KILLING ALL MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY!” Dave shouted right back, raising his fists into a fighting stance defensively, prepared for what might be coming from their outbursts.

John lifted his hammer high, eyes flaring like electricity. A dark breeze rushed through the room, jerking Dave’s clothes left and right, whipping his hair wildly. He prepared for breathlessness, he prepared for the hammer. For what may come.

“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST DO AS I SAY?” John yelled, slamming the hammer Dave’s direction. It was a mistake. An accident, he’d try to tell himself. He would never hurt Dave, he’d promised himself he wouldn’t, yet him talking back like this, him refusing him, him refusing him the chance of fixing his world… it was just too much to handle, and he’d done the first thing that came to mind with the darkness.

The hammer struck true, but not on Dave, much to John’s anger and relief. Instead, it was struck and currently straining against a sword that he hadn’t seen before. It was white as marble, with a strange, almost conical looking crossguard. Solid as anything, with a hum of vibrant energy as Dave held John’s strike at bay. Gone were the white clothes, the beads, the pearls, in its place the familiar uniform and white hair John had seen so many times. The flashy red, the gears ticking in the air as he stared with piercing red eyes directly into John’s. No sign of yielding.

He hated that look.

He loved that look.

They strained against each other for a moment before Dave made a move, gears spinning wildly behind him as he slowed things down and surged forwards, sliding the hammer along the edge of the sword till he could flip the balance and send it away from him. Quickly, he angled his body and struck a blow across John’s middle, though it was far from a kill strike. Even now, Dave hesitated to kill some of his enemies, something that he knew would come back to bite him in the future in one way or another. He hoped that, possibly, there would be some way to save John from himself. To clear his heart, his mind. Somehow.

Maybe he could ask Bro, call a favor in from Dirk. Anything. There had to be a way.

As time sped back up, however, Dave knew he was out of time, metaphorically. Instead of attacking again, or preparing to intercept a second hammer strike, he instead clenched his hand over his heart and focused as hard as he could on home. He could picture it in his mind, the futon with Bro’s legs dangling over the end, the television, the wires crisscrossing the floor, food on the counter, smuppets and swords everywhere. The moon from the rooftop, the faint hint of stars in the light polluted sky, the heat of midday sun on the treated surface, waves in the air bouncing off the metallic surfaces of the industrial air conditioners. He could feel it so intensely he could have drawn it with his eyes closed.

Chest warm, Dave heard his heart ticking in his chest, the steady beat of the clock that he worked with. It ticked louder, louder, harder till it was all he could feel, all he could hear… and he was gone. John struck the empty space Dave had been standing in mere seconds after he flashed and disappeared from view. Growling in rage, dark wind wildly thrashing, he threw his head back and yelled wordlessly to the digital sea of stars above him.

This wasn’t over.

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

Dave’s roof was exactly how he’d been imagining it. Comforting, welcoming, and entirely his own. Though relieved at his sudden arrival back on Earth, he couldn’t help but stare up at the sky to try and figure out which bright spot was a star and which might be John’s ship just beyond the atmosphere. He gripped his hand tight against his chest again, before finally glancing down towards his sword. This definitely was new, but what happened? Did he get gifted an upgrade, or had he unlocked it somehow on his own in a fit of panic? He gave it a twist swing, slicing the air cleanly with a vwip noise a few times before the door to the roof clanged open.

“Jesus fuck, kid, you’re gonna give me a heart attack. Where’ve you been? It’s like you disappeared!” Bro said, hurrying forward as Dave slowed his strikes to a halt. “I came soon as I felt it, but seriously, what gives?”

“Felt it? Felt what?” he asked, confused.

“The ping,” Bro said. At Dave’s continued look of confusion, he set a hand over his heart with a smirk. “I might not be a guardian anymore, but I’m sure as shit still tapped into the system somewhat, and just from bein’ who I am to you I’d feel it I’m sure. Felt when you disappeared… felt when you came back. Dirk no doubt felt it too, even if only a bit. Everyone must’ve felt somethin’, no matter how small, that changed.”

“Somethin’ sure as shit did change, did you see this thing?” Dave asked, hefting the sword up one handed to display to Bro lengthwise, offering it to him to hold and examine in the moonlight, white and all but glowing in its deadly way. “I don’t know what happened, one minute I was goin’ for my sword, the next this cropped out instead.”

“Nice. Solid as shit, too,” Bro judged by the weight. “This is a hell of an upgrade kid. ...I hope it didn’t cost you too much. You know how they are about their workers supplies.”

There was always a price. Be it in time, or be it in blood.

“I hope so too. I’ve got no idea, though. I didn’t hear Hephaestus at all, or see him or anything, just. New sword,” he explained as he took the weapon back, changing out of his uniform and into-

“What’s with the getup?” Bro asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Fucking-! Ugh. God damn creep changed my clothes while I was out cold. H- … Wait. Motherfucker, my phone!” he shouted, looking up towards the sky angrily. His phone was gone, his clothes, his everything was gone and it wasn’t like he could just ask for it back.

“There’s worse ways to lose a phone, kid. We’ll get you a new one,” Bro said with a shrug. “Come inside, already, before you get sucked back to space or wherever the fuck you were at. I’ll make Hot Pockets or somethin’ to celebrate.”

Dave smirked. “I survive a near death experience and you offer me Hot Pockets. My first time off-planet, and it’s Hot Pockets.”

“These are the garlic bread kind, and I’m willin’ to share.”

“...You drive a hard bargain.”

Bro clapped a hand on Dave’s shoulder. “We’ll try puzzlin’ out your powerup and talk while you eat. You can even change out of your weird drapey dress if you want.”

Dave shot another look at the sky as if daring John to react while he stood there more vulnerable, while he was with his guardian, but nothing came. He’d need to finish this. Maybe the Hot Pocket talk could include more strategy than anything else, a second head with more experience fighting off-planet threats to help him think of different options.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

As they started walking, Bro chuckled. “If you wanna call your boyfriend I’ll lend you my phone for a bit if you ask real nice.”

Dave’s stomach churned as they headed through the door, mouth suddenly full of bitter spit. “No thanks. That’s. ...I’ll tell you while I eat.”

[nanowrimo]

Adapting Your Word Count Goals to Your Environment

For many of us, writing isn’t a problem—it’s finding time to write that can be a challenge. Thankfully today we have Tiggy McLaughlin here to teach us how to adapt our writing pace and word count goals to match our busy lives:

“Write a novel in 1667 words a day!” NaNoWriMo proclaimed to college-me in the middle 2000s: “Write on your lunch break.” “Write on the bus.” “Take a fifteen-minute study break to write.” That sounded doable. Then there was the advice from the forums: “Pack your freezer with thirty meals so you won’t have to cook all November.” “Print this ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign for your bedroom door.” “Your friends won’t see you for a month—they’ll understand.” Huh? 

I did not begin to understand these conflicting messages until I attempted NaNoWriMo for myself, and realized how much our social environments impact how we write. Even on the micro level, the level of the household, our social surroundings do a large part to shape us into people who lock themselves away to write for hours, or people who write in fifteen-minute bursts. I’m a fifteen-minute writer. Here’s how I got that way:

NaNoWriMo 2010

It was my first year of graduate school. I had my own room in a house with roommates I didn’t see much, and way too much Latin, Greek, and history theory to read. I might have had the space to lock myself away, but I certainly did not have the time. Essentially living alone, I was able to wake up forty-five minutes earlier to hit my daily word count goal… most days. But, when push came to shove toward the end of the month, no one really noticed when I took a weekend and hammered out 12,000 words. The next time I won, in 2012, I was living with my partner and found it much more difficult to disappear for a weekend, so I had to prioritize those forty-five minute daily writing goals.

Camp NaNoWriMo, April 2016

I wrote the last chapter of my dissertation as my Camp project, but the only time I had to write was while my eleven-month-old baby napped. Thanks to six years of NaNoWriMo and a PhD advisor who promoted daily writing habits, I was able to write most of my dissertation while baby napped. Forty-five minute writing sessions became fifteen in the early days when a “nap” might only be twenty minutes long. But those fifteen minutes had to be productive, because I now lived with an infant, and there was no writing once he woke up.

Camp NaNoWriMo, April 2020

I have two kids now, one in PreK and one a potty-training two-year-old. They are both home, as is my husband, who, like me, has temporarily transitioned to teaching online. And I am busy, not only with work, but with having family around me all the time. I am not sure if I will even find fifteen minutes a day to work on my Camp project, seeing as every time I’m on my computer someone in the house wants me not to be. But I will try, even if the daily goal dwindles to five minutes.

This Camp NaNoWriMo, if you are part of a community practicing social distancing in an effort to control the spread of coronavirus, chances are you’re feeling your household environment more acutely than usual. Whether you live with roommates, a partner, your parents, your kids, extended family, a friend you’re giving a stable home to in this time of crisis, or friends who have opened their home to you, you’re all home. Hopefully you give each other space for creativity, even if all you can manage to sneak away for is fifteen minutes.

Tiggy McLaughlin is a historian of Christianity in Late Antiquity (200-600 CE), where she mostly asks questions about how ordinary people worshiped and prayed. She works part-time teaching History and Theology at Gannon University and is a full-time parent to two wild little boys. She has participated more or less consistently in NaNoWriMo for the past ten years, alternating between writing medieval historical fantasy and realistic fiction about contemporary academia. Besides writing, she also enjoys playing video games with her spouse, cooking, and, of course, reading.

Top photo by Essentialiving on Unsplash.

[westernhoodrat]

Meet Dani

The following is an excerpt from my first book that I recently self published on amazon. If you’re interested in science fiction, adventure, or just a good story? Give it a read, let me know what you think and consider checking out The Map: Book One of the Edwina Chronicles.

Chapter 4

August 4th, 3108 AA 

Olympus, Gaea (Colonial Capitol City)

     The warehouse was grubby, grease-coated and run down; piles of star ship parts sat idly all about it. The lights were dim and the air was stale with the scent of old oil and a haze of drifting dust. It was like a giant mouse nest, that had been patched together out of scrap metal and broken engines. In the middle of this vast stillness, something stirred, tussling through the dust, occasionally clanging parts together and hammering on metal.  Beneath the layers of scrap and decay was a small blonde girl toiling away at a fighter engine, mumbling to herself. She wore a tattered old blue mechanic’s jumper and oil-soaked leather boots. Her fingers seemed held together by various bandages and bits of gauze and they were currently clinging tightly to a hammer and pair of pliers. She had a small, but lean face with a long nose and jawline. A pair of round brass colored goggles clung tightly over her bright blue eyes. Her hair was unkempt and long, the only thing holding the thicket in place was a pair of green welding goggles and a bit of wire tying it back into a ponytail. A small patch on the right breast of her jumpsuit read “Dani.”

    Dani was arguably the best mechanic ever to be dishonorably discharged from the Colonial Corps, and she had worked her whole life to be so. Her father had been a mechanic, her father’s father before him and so on for almost eight generations. But unfortunately Dani had a fondness for making unorthodox modifications to regulation equipment; one such modification had literally blown up in her face. Now, she found herself stuck in an enormous warehouse on a dead planet, trying to piece together old ships and sell scrap just to get by. 

    “Be an ace mechanic Dani!” she muttered to herself, mocking the advice her father had given her years before. “It’s a great career oppawtunity!” she balked in her heavy Gaean accent. She angrily ratcheted a nut on to a bolt. “This war’ll never end! Don’t you worry love! You’ll always ’ave me!” She shook the parts in her hand. “Then the old geezer goes an’ dies!” She let out a heavy sigh, looking around at the enormity of the pile around her. She was a small speck in a sea of particles and shadow, trying to swim her way out. She rubbed her forehead vigorously “You’re alright Dani, deep breafs old girl, deep breafs.” 

     She  had been just a girl of eight when the war started. Her father was arguably the best human mechanic in the galaxy at the time, so he joined up and for nearly eight years Dani and her father “lived off the fat,” as he used to call it. But when she turned sixteen it was her turn. She was at the top of her class in basic, outpacing her fellow students by light-years. It wasn’t fair really Dani had practically  grown up inside an engine block. To her it was as comforting as her mother’s womb. She had advanced to deployment nine months ahead of schedule and at his request served in her father’s division. But her father never lived to see the Colonial victory. It turned out that stomach and lung cancer were the reward for all his hard work in the war effort and for the first time that she could remember, Dani was alone. She became angry and over time her skills were overshadowed by her grief. She began to experiment and modify things out of boredom and frustration. Then one day she’d managed to modify an engine on board a frigate without the proper authorization, it had exploded, almost killing all two hundred and eighty crew members on board. They discharged her, instead of sentencing her to a penal colony, leaving her to rot on the surface of the rotting corpse of Gaea. 

     It had been hard at first. When she’d stepped back on the surface from Gaea’s orbital blockade she didn’t understand what had happened to humanity. Before she had gone into orbit the planet was lush and green, but when she came back, all victory had won mankind was a homeworld that couldn’t give anymore in the way of resources. Gaea had been stripped and mined and farmed to the point of exhaustion. The soil was sterile, the water was poisoned and they lived in a constant, storming, dust-ridden wasteland. But the war had been won. The soil was sterile, the water was poisoned, and humans lived in a constant, dust-ridden wasteland. But the war had been won.

     There had been more people on Gaea when she’d first stepped back on the ground. Some were just trying to get by and others were eating them alive, sometimes quite literally. Roving gangs of violent, broken men, back from the farthest reaches of the galaxy had taken what they learned in war and turned on the very people they’d been fighting for. The learning curve had been steep in the beginning, but over time she’d learned that it was survival of the fittest. She hadn’t killed anyone, she didn’t want to for that matter, but she had given a number of fellows a good clout on the head with a wrench when they came around trying to take her things, steal her water or worse, she never let them though, not once. After a while the gangs in her area figured out that they better not come around the old warehouse looking for trouble, because Dani could take care of herself. After she’d established those boundaries life got a little easier. She managed to sell what little scrap she could to folks looking to patch up homes and huts after the storms, she’d rewire engines to provide heat or cold as needed. But that didn’t stop her from thinking, dreaming, hoping that some day she’d get out. 

     Suddenly she heard a loud crash from the far side of the hangar. 

     “What the ’ell was that?” she whispered as she shot up and began looking around frantically. Another clank came from her left, echoing through the large building. She grabbed her large pipe wrench and went running in the direction of the noise. She slowed her pace as she came to a corner near the building’s entrance, pressing her back to the wall, raising the wrench to her chest and gripping it tightly. 

    No. she thought. Not again, her heart began to race as the thought of fighting off the gangs and robbers made her fear for her life, made her wonder if they had grown bold enough to attack her again, or worse, managed to find real weapons, guns and the like. It made her wonder if today was the day they’d get her.

     She gently peeked around the corner to find a heavily armed man and what appeared to be a dog with a bomb strapped to its chest. 

    Robbers! she thought as she bit her lip. The man was glancing around the room as the dog seemed to almost mutter at him with a series of groans and whimpers. 

    “It’s alright Nugget, I think the computer was right, we just need to have a look round. Try to relax.” He turned and smiled at it before it barked back at him in response. His accent was different than how any of the thieves she know spoke. He sounded like the people in the High Command, the big-wig military types who were the only ones allowed out of the muck and mire on Gaea. They lived in a great black tower complex which was guarded like a fortress and had access to what few resources were left on the doomed planet. For a split second the pair unknowingly turned their backs to her. 

     Alright Dani girl, ’ere’s your chance, she thought, taking a deep breath and leaping out from behind the wall, flying at the man and swinging the pipe at his head. 

   Quickly and without warning the man turned around, reached out and caught the wrench with a thud, just before it reached his temple. “Oh hello!” he said with a devilish smile. He ripped the wrench from her hands and pushed Dani to the ground with his boot, dropping her weapon with a dust laden thud. Dani crashed flat on her back with her legs in the air. The force of her landing made her fuzzy as she tried to draw focus back to the pair. The dog was snarling, hackles up, poised to strike. The man looked down at her in delight. 

   “Who the ’ell are you?!?!” Dani shouted at them.

    The man placed his hand on his chest. “I am Captain Ashley Odessa Cumberge and this is Nugget.” He gestured towards the dog, who was still snarling at her, its eyes nearly popping out of its skull. “Nugget?” She looked up at him. “Heel.” He smiled at her as she immediately relaxed and moved to a seated position. He stood up straight and extended his hand to help her up. “Sorry about that, but you were about to hit me in the head with a rather large wrench.” He grinned. “I don’t know about you, but I’d say that’s just a little rude.” Dani eyed him skeptically until she took his hand, pulling herself up. 

    “What do you want gov?” She shrugged at him wiping her hands on her pant legs. 

     “Ah! Yes, well we are looking for a mechanic.” He pulled a small, blue handkerchief from his breast pocket and offered it to her. 

    “Well you’ve found one.” She grimaced at him, blowing her nose with his hanky. 

    “Indeed.” Ash nodded. Now it appeared it was his turn for skepticism. “But we are looking for a very specific mechanic. Specialist Daniel Colbert, so if you could perhaps point us in his direction it would be much appreciated,” he finished as she handed him back his hanky. Ash stared at it for a moment in minor disgust. “Please, call it a gift.” 

    “Thanks,” she replied, shoving it into her pocket. “Well that’s me mate,” she said, still dusting herself off, only half paying attention to him. 

    Ash paused for a moment and eyeing her with a frown. “You?” he raised an eyebrow.

    “Yeah.” She replied looking down at Nugget.  “Hi doggy!” She smiled as Nugget began to wag her tail. 

    “Daniel?” Ash continued his eyes glancing around. 

    “Yeah,” she repeated, rolling her eyes. “My dad was brilliant wiv a wrench, but he couldn’t spell to save ’is life. So he wanted a Danielle, got a Daniel. But call me Dani.” She stuck her hand out to shake his. Ash shot her a fleeting, half-hearted smile before gingerly shaking hers.

    “Specialist.” Despite the smile, his face went slack and his doubts about her identity floated in the air, as heavy as the dust between them.

    “What’s wrong?” she scoffed at him.

    “You’re a world class, ex-military mechanic?” He forced another smile as his brows drew together. 

    “Yeah why?” She sassily put her hands on her hips, cocking them to the right. 

    Ash eyed the thin, mousey girl, with the rats nest of hair on her head, long crooked nose and obnoxious demeanor. He seemed taken aback. In his experience all the top military mechanics were broad shouldered, square-chinned men and while a woman in the service wasn’t out of the ordinary, one had to be particularly well educated to work on star ships. A slight, young girl whose name wasn’t spelled correctly and who spoke in a manner consistent with that of the rabble who now inhabited what remained of Gaea didn’t seem right. Her mannerisms and appearance were slovenly and simply not in keeping with military standards. 

    “I apologize.” He said softly. “I believe I have made a mistake.” He turned to exit the building.

    “Wait a minute!” she shouted, grabbing him by the shoulder, spinning him around and sticking her index finger in his face. “You can't just march in 'ere with this adorable little dog, ask me one stupid question an' expect to walk off without explainin' yourself!” She grabbed him by his collar. “Now what do you want fancy man?”

    “My dear,” he let out a little laugh and a smile, raising his palms. “I need the best mechanic in the universe to maintain my ship. It is unlike any other that has ever traveled through space. Your name was at the top of the list when I looked through the Colonial database. But now that I’ve met you, I dare say they can’t be right. No offense.” he said, grabbing her wrist and pulling his collar out of her clutches. 

    “A mistake?” she said, raising both eyebrows and rocking back on her heels, crossing her arms. “Oh really? You don’t fink someone like me couldn’t be the best mechanic in the whole universe? Why? Because I’m a girl?” Dani was turning red, as she began to tap her foot. 

    Ash again raised his eyebrow and shrugged. “Well…,” he began to explain.

    “Right well let me tell you somethin’ Cap’n Ashwin Odooly Cabbage!” she pointed her finger at him. “My father only ever taught me ‘ow to do one fing in ‘is world an’ at was ‘ow to take care of starships!” She threw her hands in the air, waving them at him. “My entire life people ’ave tried to tell me I am not who I say I am! But I swear on me father's grave an’ ’is father’s before ’im that there ain't an engine in the universe I can’t fix!” She pointed at him again as her eyes widened. “And if you fink that you can judge ’is book by its cover an' walk out without a piece of me mind you’ve got it all wrong!”

    Ash stood in aghast, eyeing her for a moment. “Cumberge.” he said sharply.

    “What?” she snapped at him.

    “My name is Cumberge, Specialist.” He stood at attention. “What do you know about maintenance on a zero point energy engine?” 

    “I know ’em inside an’ out if yew really 'ave one? I heard they was too expensive to put on most military ships. Even so, we was trained at length on ’em. The principal construction is the same as a combustion, but it only works if you've got it paired wiv a jump drive an’ everyone knows they don't exist.” She calmed down as she spoke, her face turning back to the pale color it normally was, her attitude now shifting from one of anger to arrogance. 

    “Hmmmm…” Ash responded. “What if I told you we’ve got one?”

    “Right! Now who’s tellin’ lies?” She laughed. “You’ve got a ship outfitted wiv a jump drive?” she asked skeptically. 

    “We do.” Ash smiled looking at Nugget. 

    “And I'm supposed to believe you because you’ve got all those guns an’ medals, eh?” She let out a laugh. “Besides you ain’t no captain anyway.”

   “I beg your pardon?” 

    “Look at that old bomber. Blue and gold ain’t the Colonial colors no more, everybody knows ‘at. They’re black an’ red now.” She turned up her lip in a sneer. “So tell me another one ‘captain’.” 

    “Oh yes, just as I am supposed to believe you are the best mechanic in the universe because you’re covered in dust and oil? If I’m not mistaken you’re wearing the same colors as I.” 

    “You’re damn right I am!” She pointed a finger at him before thumbing her chest. “An ’is is my father’s jumper you geezer so don’t you tell I’m wearing the wrong colors.” 

    A pause followed between them as the mood grew sullen. They eyed each other a while longer, each having just as much cause to mistrust the other. Ash looked down at Nugget, who whimpered at him. “Look I don’t know if you are who you say you are but if you can get my ship to work, I can offer you a place on board.” 

    “Oh yeah? What's in it for me?”

    “Well I can’t promise much, nor can I guarantee your safety, but I can promise that it’s a damn sight better than this place.” He looked around at the piles of junk. 

    Dani paused then and thought about the years she had been there, how long it had been since she had worked aboard an actual star ship, how much she missed her father and how badly she wanted to redeem herself. 

    “What are you doin’ wiv the ship?”  she questioned. After all, this fellow was awfully strange and seemed to appear out of no place; for all she knew it could be some sort of trap or ploy to get her out of the hangar, kill her and take her stuff, or sell her into slavery. But then she remembered that nobody had guns on Gaea, except the big wigs in the tower of course, especially ones like the one this fellow had. 

    Ash paused for a moment, seeming to choose his words with care. “That information my dear is on a need to know basis; however, in the very near future we are looking to acquire a very special map.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Does that suffice?”

    Dani thought again for a brief moment. “Anything illegal?” she eyed him.

    “Ah. Well there might be a bit of trouble involved, but nothing serious.” Ash replied looking down at his dog, who squeaked back. 

    Dani looked down at her dirty boots for a half second of hesitation then said. “Alright Captain. I’ll take a look at your ship, but no funny business?” 

    “I would never dream of it.” 

    “An’ first I 'ave one more question, before we go.” 

    “Yes?” 

    She pointed to Nugget. “Why do you ’ave explosives strapped to your dog?!?!” She shouted, her brow furrowing. “She’s a cute dog an’ you don’t see many of them runnin’ around now do ya?” Dani did have an affinity for cute things and this dog was the cutest thing she’d seen in years, even if it was ready to attack her.

    Ash smiled. “She’s not a dog.“ He shook his head. “She’s a bomb.” He turned and began to walk away, Dani exchanged a look with the mutt who seemingly shrugged at her. “Come Nugget.” The dog followed him quickly as the two put distance between themselves and Dani. 

    “What?” Dani shouted, shaking her head and wrinkling her nose.

    “Coming Specialist?” Ash called.

    Dani looked around at the hangar one last time, with a sigh and then ran after them without the slightest notion of what was to come next. 

[velkynkarma]

Happy April Fools!! For a prompt, I hope you don't mind a classic whump trope: Shiro throwing himself in front of one of the others (Matt or Keith?) to take a hit for them. Hope that's not too vague. Thanks for still writing, you're amazing!!

I really liked this prompt anon, so I went a little overboard and this is a whole fic lol. I picked Matt because I haven’t had enough chances to write him. Kind of a sequel to Break Even. Set in some handwavey time in S4, but it’s up to you if this is Kuron or some AU where Shiro came back on his own. Hope you enjoy :)

——

“I wish that noise would stop already,” Matt snaps in frustration, as he plugs his mini computer into the security panel next to the door. 

The alarm screams through the whole Galra ship angrily, blaring over and over just above their heads from one of the intercoms set into the walls and half a dozen others in their hallway alone. It’s loud and thoroughly distracting, but for Matt, it also reminds him of his escape feebs ago. The anxiety of wondering if the enemy will thunder around the corner at any moment is just as strong now as it was then, and sends his heart hammering. 

It doesn’t matter how many times Matt has done this, or how often he’s trained for it. He’s never going to forget feeling completely and utterly helpless when he hears that sound.

“I don’t think it’s going to any time soon,” Shiro says, next to him. “Just do what you can.” His tone is authoritative, but he offers Matt a brief, sympathetic look in the middle of scanning the hallways for danger. 

That does calm Matt down. A little, at least. If anybody knows what it’s like, it’s going to be Shiro. 

Their mission today was simple in theory, but more complex in execution. A Galra fleet had been responsible for utilizing a new, more powerful ion cannon against the rebels, wiping out an entire hidden base in the process. They needed to destroy the weapon itself, while simultaneously stealing any information they could about it, so they could be countered in the future.

The rebels had reached out to Voltron for assistance, and Voltron had been only too happy to help. While the rebels fought the cloud of swarming ships outside—with the assistance of Allura and the Blue Lion, as a decoy to draw their attention—the rest of the team had snuck into the ship itself to get to work. Pidge, Hunk and Lance were Team Weapon, responsible for finding it and figuring out a way to disable it. Matt had volunteered to go in on foot as the rebel representative to hack the data, and Shiro agreed to go with him for backup.

Pidge had been a little upset that she couldn’t go with Matt. It hadn’t been too long since they had reunited, after all, and Matt had to admit it would be both fun and exciting to work in tandem with his amazing little sister. But Shiro made a fair point that they needed a hacker on either team, and Pidge and Matt were by far the most efficient at the task. 

Pidge had grudgingly agreed, warned Matt to not die after all the work she put into finding him, and dropped them off from the camouflaged Green Lion on the other side of the ship when the mission began.

And it had gone smoothly. At first. They’d gone undetected on the ship for a while, with the Galra and their sentries so focused on the battle outside. But somebody—Matt still wasn’t sure if it was him and Shiro, or Team Weapon—had tripped some sort of alarm, and it had begun screeching for all it was worth about intruders and danger. 

Things had been more difficult after that. Shiro’s armor was scratched from numerous close encounters, and the energy shield mounted on his wrist flickered every once and a while, like it was damaged. Matt’s cloak had several laser rifle burns in it, and he had a new shallow gash on his arm from a too-close encounter with a sentry’s clawed hands. 

Worst of all, his leg throbbed at the left knee, aching and uncomfortable. The wound Shiro had given him more than a decafeeb ago to get him out of the gladiator arena didn’t like being pushed too hard with no rest, and it was protesting vehemently. 

Matt could fight—the rebels had ensured he could—but he couldn’t do it for huge stretches of time like some of the others could. That was why they’d stuck him at a listening outpost, and utilized his intelligence and stealth more than his combative skills. If he did fight, it was usually in a ship, where he was a decent pilot and a better gunner—and could sit the whole time. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have volunteered to do some codebreaking on the ground.

But they needed him. This had to be fast. That new weapon was dangerous, and if they didn’t understand how it worked or where they were being manufactured, millions of people could die. He’s the best hacker they have, after Pidge. He can deal with his leg killing him for a little while if it means a fast and efficient victory.

Of course, efficiency also depended on his equipment. The rebels had some decent tech, but it was nothing compared to Pidge’s nifty little wrist-mounted computer, built into the paladin armor. The technology in even ten thousand year old armor was efficient and elegant in a way that absolutely did not make Matt in any way jealous that his sister had better toys than he did, no, not at all. 

Okay, maybe a little bit. 

Matt’s mini computer does the job okay, though. He types rapidly on it as he says, “Their encryption is pretty good, and with the alarms going, the security’s beefed up a couple notches. I can get through, but it’s going to take me a little longer than before.”

“Not too much longer, I hope,” Shiro says, frowning. “We’re sitting ducks here. No cover if anyone comes around the corner.” 

“I’ll do what I can, but I’m working with pieced together equipment here. Unless…” Matt considers. “Shiro, let me borrow your arm.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “I thought the alarms would freeze me out of unlocking doors with my prosthetic arm?” 

“Nah,” Matt says. “I don’t want the Galra tech, I want your Voltron tech.” 

“Oh.” Shiro bemusedly extends his right arm to the side for Matt to work with, while keeping his body turned awkwardly so he can still keep an eye on the hallways. It’s a bit odd, but it does work, once Shiro brings up the displays with the internalized mental commands attuned to himself and the Black Lion and grants Matt access. 

“Much better,” Matt says, as he brings up the interfaces on the holographic screen that hovers over Shiro’s right wrist. He loved his little rebel minicomputer, but was so much faster than any tech he had access to. “I’ve got to get one of these.”

“I’m sure Allura wouldn’t mind sharing, if it means beating the Galra empire,” Shiro says, scanning the hallways over the top of Matt’s bowed head. 

“You think? This is incredible,” Matt says, as he rapidly eats his way through the Galra security with the bolstered Voltron computer. Pidge already had a number of protocols installed that made hacking the Galra security easy; just a few minor modifications here, an adjustment of code there, and he can smash through the walls like they’re made of paper. “The rebels could really use more sophisticated work like this. A lot of what they have is put together from whatever they can find, the Galra have a lockdown on supplies almost everywhere, and—”

“Look out!”

Shiro’s flickering energy shield snaps up by Matt’s head just in time to deflect a burst of energy from burning a hole in his temple. Matt freezes for just a moment, startled. 

There are three sentries pacing towards them down the hallway, energy rifles raised. Matt hadn’t even heard them coming over the blare of the alarm. 

Another fires, and the shot deflects off of Shiro’s energy shield again, which flickers alarmingly. Shiro himself has to twist awkwardly in front of Matt and extend his arm outward to provide any shielding at all, while still keeping his right arm within reach of Matt’s hacking job. 

Matt swears, and reaches down for his collapsible staff. But Shiro orders sharply, “No, keep working! We can’t hit them from here anyway.”

Matt swears again, but Shiro has a point. If they can just get through this door, they might have a breather. In an open hallway without any firearms or cover, they’re screwed. “Right, right. On it.” His heart beats so hard it hurts, and his leg throbs in time, but his hands and his voice are shockingly still and calm as he works. 

He’s almost through when another blast ricochets off Shiro’s energy field, and with a staticky shattering noise, it finally cuts out and vanishes.

Matt’s heart stops. For one horrified moment, he looks up from his work to meet Shiro’s eyes, as Shiro turns back to check his progress.

“Almost—” Matt says desperately, frantically swiping at the holographic keys over Shiro’s wrist. Almost, almost, almostalmostalmost—

The sentries fire again. Shiro moves, twisting around to raise his free arm defensively as he puts himself solidly between the shots and Matt. There’s an awful thud-crack-hiss of energy blasts on armor, and an even worse smell of burning flesh and blood. 

Shiro gasps in agony almost right in Matt’s ear, and Shiro’s weight slumps against him suddenly. It’s almost too heavy for Matt to bear so unexpectedly, and his bad leg nearly gives out on him, but he braces at the last moment and manages to hold. Shiro’s helmet clunks painfully against Matt’s skull, and his left gauntlet claws weakly at Matt’s cloak as he struggles for balance. 

“No, no, no,” Matt yelps frantically, terrified and angry all at the same time. “No, you do not get to do this again. Not again, Shiro, you hear me?” 

Shiro’s only answer is a muted groan, as he struggles to get upright again and fails. 

Shiro’s right arm had gone as limp and uncoordinated as the rest of him—his Galra arm is a terrible miracle of science, but in many ways it acts a lot like a normal limb and is just as subject to shock as the rest of the person it’s attached to. But luckily the screens from the Voltron armor had all remained active. Matt snatches his wrist, drags it close, and with a final swipe, keys in the last code. 

The door hisses open. 

Matt doesn’t have the time to really survey what’s on the other side. The sentries are coming closer, and raising their weapons to fire again. He’ll just have to hope they aren’t locking themselves in with something worse. 

He awkwardly manages to grab Shiro’s left wrist and get an arm around his waist, and winces when Shiro gasps again in agony at his touch. With Shiro more or less flopped awkwardly over his doubled-forward back, rather than in anything resembling an efficient fireman’s carry, Matt manages to drag him through the open door and slap the button to close it. 

“Sorry Shiro, I gotta—” Matt says frantically, as he drags Shiro to the panel on the door. With Shiro still balanced precariously against him, he manages to use the paladin wrist computer to seal the door shut with his and Pidge’s own controls. It won’t hold the sentries forever, but it will buy them time.

Immediate threat taken care of, for the next five doboshes at least, Matt turns his attention to Shiro. He sets his friend down against the computer banks on the far wall, and Shiro gasps again as he’s moved. 

Now that Matt can see the damage, he can understand why. The paladin armor is incredibly durable, but today it seems to have hit its limit. The jetpack set into the back is shattered, and the armor around Shiro’s back, side, and just under his arm is cracked and burned. Several of the pieces cut into the undersuit and skin beneath, drawing blood. 

But the worst injury is the shot to Shiro’s side, just above his hip, which hadn’t even been protected by armor to begin with. That is an awful, bloody hole already leaking red, with tattered burned edges and frayed bits of undersuit melted to the skin.

“What the hell, Shiro?” Matt asks, frantic. He whips off the thick cloak of his rebel uniform and hastily wraps it around Shiro’s waist and back, hoping to stem the bleeding long enough to get help. “Why did you do that?”

Shiro groans at the movement, and the pressure on his injuries, but he doesn’t complain or try to fend Matt off. Instead, he says weakly, “You had to open the door.”

“You can’t—you can’t do that,” Matt hisses, gritting his teeth. He’s trying hard not to be...something, he’s not sure what. Terrified. Overwhelmed. Distraught. His throat feels tight and his eyes prickle painfully, but mostly what it all comes out as is anger. “You can’t do that again, Shiro, not to me. Not for me. Okay?” 

He tugs the cloak possibly a little tighter than is strictly necessary in his haste to wrap the wounds properly. Shiro can’t bleed out. Not here, not now, and that wound is bad. He needs a pod as soon as possible. 

Shiro gasps, and his fingers twitch reflexively towards the wound at his side. But his eyes meet Matt’s, and they’re full of confusion. “Do what?” he asks, voice hoarse. 

“Keep saving me,” Matt says. His throat is tight as he forces the words out, and he still isn’t sure if it’s with dismay or guilt or anger. “Keep taking the hits for me. Trying to get yourself killed to get me out of trouble. You can’t—you can’t do that again, okay. You already sacrificed yourself to save me once, enough is enough.”

“Matt,” Shiro says, slowly. It’s horse and shaky, edged with pain, but he still manages to maintain some degree of calm. “I didn’t die in the arena.”

“I thought you did!” Matt says, as he finishes wrapping the wounds and ties it off as best as he can. “I thought you died in my place. I told myself nobody was ever going to die for me again, and now you’re doing it all over—”

“Matt,” Shiro repeats, with a wince. “I’m not dead yet. Calm down.” 

Shiro was like that. He was frustratingly like that, able to stay calm somehow even in the worst situations. 

Matt still remembers that day in the arena, disgustingly crystal clear. He can still smell the sawdust and old blood and stale sweat, see the blinding arena lights, feel that raw terror, knowing he was going to die. I’m not going to make it. I’ll never see my family again. And he remember’s Shiro’s answer, his quick thinking in the face of certain death. You can do this. Take care of your father. 

Matt was stronger now than he had been back then. He’d seen combat, and he’d thought his way out of hopeless situations, survived against the impossible. He was braver and smarter and more self-sufficient than that naive young kid that went all the way to Kerberos for ice samples and the thought of meeting aliens. But he’d done it all because of that very real fear that still lived in his heart, that other people would have to die for him again because he was too weak to handle it, too scared, too useless, and he never wanted that to happen again. 

And yet here they are again, Shiro facing down death in Matt’s place and Matt panicking, and maybe he never really learned anything at all.

No, he tells himself. You’re better than that. You’ve gotten stronger. Nobody ever dies for you again. 

He takes a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and lets it carry away his useless panic with it. 

You can handle this. 

“You’re right,” Matt agrees. “And this time I’m going to make sure we keep you that way.”

Shiro smiles, although the expression is weak. “No argument there.”

Matt nods. His makeshift bandage looks awkward and uncomfortable, but at least it will hold long enough to get Shiro out of there. He stands, presses a finger to the rebel communicator in his ear tuned to the Voltron frequency, and opens communications. “This is Matt. Shiro’s hurt—we’re going to need an extraction, fast.”

“I can’t get to you,” Allura says, from outside. There’s a sharp grunt on her end, no doubt from an impact in the Blue Lion, and several distant blasts. “There are too many fighters. I can try to clear the area for an extraction, but there are too many on me at the moment.” 

“Same here,” Olia reports. “This warship is heavily defended. All our ships are engaged.” 

“We can get to you,” Pidge says. “If you can hang on for fifteen doboshes. Are you okay?” There’s no mistaking the worry in her tone, and Matt winces a little at that.

“I’m fine. Mostly. It’s just Shiro—”

“I’m okay,” Shiro interrupts.

“You don’t sound okay,” Lance argues immediately. “How bad are you hurt? We’re coming.” 

“Not bad enough that I can’t last fifteen doboshes,” Shiro says immediately. His voice is shaky still, and he can’t help but hiss mid-sentence in what’s obviously pain, but Matt can see how hard he fights to maintain as much normalcy as possible.

“Get there in ten, got it,” Hunk says. “On our way.” 

Shiro makes an exasperated noise in his throat, and then winces again, hand automatically coming up to press against the cloak-turned-bandage and the wound underneath. “Not like I...haven’t done this before,” he mutters, but his breath hitches painfully. “Why do they always get me in this spot?”

That sounds like a story, but for later. Matt frankly couldn’t care less right now. “Are you okay?”

“I can hang on,” Shiro says, although he finally makes a concession to his injury by tipping his head back against the computer banks, and resting wearily. 

From the door comes the first metallic bang of a sentry fist on the other side. It’s so loud even the still-blaring alarms seem quiet by comparison. 

Matt and Shiro both watch the door with growing expressions of alarm. “Can they get through?” Shiro asks slowly, after a heavy moment of silence.

Another bang from outside. “Not easily,” Matt says. “I messed with the entry codes. But that won’t stop them from physically breaking through.” 

Shiro winces. “Any other way out of here?” he asks, rolling his head tiredly to one side.

Matt glances around, but he doesn’t see any other doors. On the one hand, that’s good; it means no surprise attacks from anywhere else in the room. On the other hand, it means they’re trapped in a box, waiting for the enemy to come through the door after them, guns blazing. 

“No,” Matt says, after a moment. Then, “Hang on...” 

There’s a vent up by the ceiling. One of the large ones, probably leading to an interior maintenance route. It would be ideal for Pidge to squirrel through, but Matt could probably squeeze into it in a pinch if he had to. He’s always been skinny and small for his age, and not even a decafeeb of training alongside the rebels has done much to change that. 

But Shiro would never make it. Even if he was fully healthy, he probably couldn’t; Shiro had way too much bulk and weight, between his metal arm, paladin armor, and an unfairly huge muscles, to ever squeeze his way into that. Wounded as he is, he’d never get up there at all. 

Shiro follows his gaze, and his brows furrow. He must be coming to the same conclusions as Matt, but he doesn’t say anything about it for now. Instead, he takes a shuddering, heavy breath, and then groans, “Can you...get the data?”

The data. The mission. The reason they’re in this trap to begin with. Matt glances at the computer banks, wincing slightly at another loud, heavy bang on the other side. “Probably.”

“Do it,” Shiro orders. “If we’re stuck here, we may as well get what we came for.” 

Matt can’t really argue with that. There’s nothing to fortify with, and no way to prepare for the inevitable attack. If the doors hold long enough, though, his sister and the other paladins might get here in time, and they’ll need to make a fast exit. Shiro’s life is on the line, but so are millions of others. 

“Right,” he says, and gets to work.

He doesn’t have Shiro’s paladin gauntlet computer to work with anymore. Shiro is a little too busy cupping his wound with both hands, and Matt’s not sure if he can stand on his own for long enough to play computer for the hack. But Matt still has his little minicomputer, and he plugs it in quickly.

It takes him only five doboshes to break in and sweep the data into storage on his computer. Pidge could have managed in one and a half, with paladin tech, but five is still nothing to shake a stick at for cracking high-tech Galra software on lockdown. Especially with that anxiety-inducing alarm still blaring loudly through the whole place. When he has everything he needs, he leaves behind a few nasty surprises—viruses that will wipe out the data and everything else. The facilities will still have the blueprints, but at least this fleet won’t have access to them anymore.

“How you holding up, Shiro?” Matt asks, as he unplugs his computer and glances at the door. The bangs on the other side are getting progressively louder, and the door is starting to look a little dented. Not good.

Shiro is also not good. Five doboshes hasn’t done him any favors. His forehead is covered in a thin sheen of sweat now, and his breathing has started getting more labored. His legs are now flopped out in front of him, like he can’t hold them up. Frankly, Matt thinks the only thing holding the rest of Shiro up is the computer console he’s propped against.

“Never better,” Shiro answers immediately. His voice is a little slurred, now, like his tongue is a little too big for his mouth. 

Another bang sounds, but this time it’s followed by the unmistakable click-hiss-roar of a torch. The outline of the door starts to glow red as the sentries on the other side take the direct approach, and start cutting their way through.

They are out of time...and still with at least ten doboshes before help is supposed to get there. Five, if Team Weapon rushes, like Hunk had maybe-not-so-jokingly implied. 

Matt swallows. How many sentries are out there now? Can he take them all? Shiro’s in no condition to fight; he can’t even sit up under his own power. Can he stall, somehow? 

But there’s nothing to block the door with. No explosives or ranged weaponry or even smoke bombs he can use to help. They’re cornered in a box with no way out and no time left.

“Matt...take the data and run.”

Matt whips around to stare at Shiro. “What? No!”

“Millions of lives ride on that data,” Shiro gasps softly. “It’s not worth one. Go out the vent...you can meet up with Pidge and the others…”

“No,” Matt says, and that raw anguish-terror-anger is back. “No. I’m not gonna abandon you to die. Never again.”

“Again?” Shiro slurs. “You didn’t last time, Matt. I made that call. I’m making it now too. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!” Matt snaps. “It’s not—I promised myself nobody was ever going to die for me again, not because I couldn’t handle it. I’m not leaving.”

“I gave you an order—”

“You’re not my superior officer anymore,” Matt cuts him off. “You’re a paladin of Voltron, and I’m a rebel agent. This is a rebel mission. My call. And I’m not leaving you helpless to die or be captured again. No.” 

Shiro looks shocked, even despite his growing weakness. Maybe it is surprising. Even after Matt had been reunited with Pidge and Shiro, and met the paladins, he’d always treated Shiro with the deference due a superior officer. He’d never been the aggressive sort before, never been the kind to deliberately disobey orders so blatantly. He’d cowered next to Shiro when the Galra took them last time and knew he was already going to die before he ever went to the arena. He never fought back. 

There’s a little willingness to bend the rules for what’s right in him now, though. After all, he is a rebel. Rebelliousness is literally in the name.

He glances at the door. They’re halfway through now; he only has a few ticks left to spare. He has to move fast. So he slides his hands under Shiro’s arms and hauls him to the far corner, hopefully as far out of the way as possible from stray gunfire, and partially shielded behind the corner of the computer banks. 

Shiro frowns, and does his best to haul himself to his feet to help or protest or something. Whatever he’d had in mind, Matt’s not sure, because he gasps in agony and digs his fingers into the makeshift cloak-bandages over his wound, and immediately sinks. “Matt,” he finally chokes out, when he’s able to breathe again, “don’t do this—”

Matt settles him into the corner, as upright and as shielded as possible. “Hang tight,” he says, ignoring Shiro’s gasping attempt at an order. “We’re both going to make it. We’re both going to see our families again. They’re coming right now.”

“Matt—” Shiro coughs. It’s a disturbingly wet sound, which might mean there’s internal bleeding at work. He needs to get out of here. “You need to run.” 

“No,” Matt says, as he draws his collapsible staff from the holster on his leg. “This time, I’m going to be the one to protect you.”

And he takes his place to the side of the door, staff at the ready, watching the gleaming red lines on the outside of the door grow steadily longer.

It’s almost funny. He should be terrified. He remembers so intimately what it was like to face down certain death. And yet, although his heart thuds in his chest and his palms sweat beneath his gloves and his bad leg protests angrily, he’s focused. He’s ready for what comes, and he’s fueled by knowing he’s doing the right thing.

He wonders if this is how Shiro felt, right before he’d charged the sentry, cut Matt out of the gladiator matches, and faced down Myzax. If it was, Matt can understand a little better just how Shiro had managed to do any of that, despite facing down certain death of his own.

The sentries on the other side finish cutting through the door, and a shrieking, scraping noise assaults Matt’s ears as the now useless hunk of metal is shoved out of alignment and smashes inward to the ground. The first of the sentries steps through, gun raised.

And Matt, out of sight to the side of the door, brings one of the weighted ends of his staff swinging down at the vulnerable point at its neck.

That was the thing about building any kind of robot in the image of a humanoid: they might be more durable, made of metal, but they still had mostly the same external weak points. Joints were fair game. So were the thinner points where the frame of the robotic skull attached so it could pivot. A weighted metal staff would do a lot of damage to even a robot, applied correctly.

This robot is no exception. The skull caves alarmingly, metal screeching and tearing, before the whole thing snaps clean off. The metal head pings to the ground and rolls off with a clatter farther into the computer room, and the rest of the body starts to sag, rifle dropping from its metal fingers.

Matt doesn’t let it hit the ground. He spins the staff, catches the broken sentry at its slim waist, and uses the miracle of leverage to hurl the thing right back out into its companions.

The resulting mess is pure chaos. Metal clatters violently as the sentries thud into each other. Stray gunfire peppers the walls inside the computer room, sending sparks flying over the console, and out in the hallway as the robots fire reflexively. Two of the sentries are knocked completely over, and a third—a third, the one that must have brought the torch to cut into the room—steps back, ducking away from its weaponized companion but off balance in its haste.

Matt hurtles through the broken doorway with an angry yell into the chaos.

The upright sentry is the first to have to go. It tries to regain its footing while raising its rifle, firing its first shot at Matt. Matt ducks low, twirls the staff in his hands, and spins it out at the sentry’s ankles. His bad leg protests painfully at the sudden drop and brace, but the trick works; there’s enough force and weight in the blow for him to sweep the sentry off its feet. 

The gun goes clattering out of its hands, and Matt presses the attack, whirling the staff into an upright position and stabbing the weighted end down on the sentry’s head like a spear. The casing shatters, and the sentry twitches once or twice before falling still.

Two down. Two to go.

The two sentries left manage to shove the broken one off of themselves. One tries to rise to its feet, while the second decides to try and shoot Matt from the ground instead, providing cover for its remaining operating companion. 

Not good. He needs to control the fight better; he’s not sure he can handle a two-on-one fight for long, with the two actually cooperating. He swipes with his staff, but the narrow hallway doesn’t give him too much room to operate with such a long weapon, and he’s not close enough to connect.

Cause more chaos. Disrupt the ordered programming the AI is coded to use by doing the unexpected. Sentries are highly efficient machines, with a shockingly impressive artificial intelligence that Matt would have been foaming at the mouth to study just a few years ago on Earth. But they are still machines, and their reactions are limited. 

So he uses his staff like a pole vault, and hurtles himself at the rising sentry.

He connects with his heels as he cannons into the robot, and his old wound screams in agony. He hits the ground hard, rolling, and for a moment he’s actually scared he won’t be getting to his feet again. But he manages, somehow, and staggers to his feet, staff at the ready. 

The sentry he’d hit isn’t so lucky. Matt’s vaulted kick had hit it squarely in the chest, and sent its weapon clattering out of reach down the hallway, while it had collapsed a second time. It’s already pushing itself to its feet, reaching for Matt with one hand full of gleaming claws. But Matt bats the hand aside with his whirling staff, and brings the other end crashing down on the robot’s head. It smashes back down to the floor in a mess of parts and goes still. 

Three down.

Matt’s panting hard, now, and his leg protests angrily. His knee trembles, and he knows he won’t be standing much longer if he doesn’t finish this.

The final sentry fires at him as it hauls itself to its feet.

Matt curses, and ducks aside, trying to get back to the gouged open doorway for cover. The blasts take a chunk out of his left arm and burn several holes in his clothes, and he gasps in pain, but he keeps running. Almost there, and then he can—

His left knee buckles beneath him.

Matt yelps as he goes down, crashing to the floor and slamming hard into one of the downed sentries. He scrambles to get to his feet, but his knee sends a shock of brilliant pain through him, and he collapses again. Damn it, not now! 

The sentry raises its rifle, taking aim. So Matt does the only thing left he can do—he throws his staff at it.

It misses, which isn’t surprising. Staves aren’t exactly easy to throw well, especially in a narrow hallway like this. But it does cause the sentry to be distracted, twisting to shoot at the projectile hastily. 

That gives Matt enough time to make a scrambling dive for one of the other discarded firearms, snatch it up, and shoot in the sentry’s direction.

Guns were never really his forte. He’d trained in them at the Garrison, of course, because it was required, but he’d never liked it as much as the science and engineering aspects. He’d trained in firearms with the rebels, too, when they’d taken him on, but he’d still never really liked them.

That doesn’t mean he’s useless with them. He can certainly hit a target that close, even with a heavy sentry rifle. He fires frantically, and the sentry jerks once, twice, three times as it’s hit point blank and collapses.

Matt pants, breaths harsh and ragged. He hurts in more places than one, and he’s gonna have bruises for days. His leg is screaming for relief. 

But he’d done it. He won. 

Nobody had to die for him.

His relief is short lived. He barely manages to force his leg to take his weight—just a little more, please just a little more—when several more shots ping off the walls near him. He glances up, and down the hall are half a dozen more sentries, stomping their way unrelentingly forward with their rifles at the ready.

Matt curses, staggers along the hallway to the fallen sentry and his staff, and manages to snatch it up as he hobble-runs for the computer room where Shiro is still stashed. He leans heavily on the staff like a walking stick, and keeps the stolen rifle in his other hand. He might be able to hold them off for a little while with the gun. Maybe. 

Shiro is still conscious when he ducks inside to temporary safety, but barely. His face has gone an ashen gray color, and his eyes are only half lidded. His hands are still pressed weakly to the makeshift bandages at his side, but Matt can see the brown fabric starting to stain a darker, wetter color.

They’re out of time, in more ways than one.

“Y’r hurt,” Shiro slurs, blinking blearily at the way Matt limps over to him.

“Not as bad as you,” Matt says. “Hang tight—there are more coming.” And I know I can’t fight them all off.

“Run,” Shiro orders tiredly.

“I told you already, I’m not doing that. If we can just hold…”

Shiro hums at that. Matt has a feeling he knows how truly screwed they are, though, and it’s not a comforting thought.

The clank of sentry feet gets closer, and every metallic thud is like a death knell, underscored by the screaming alarms. Matt is scared now, but if he leaves Shiro’s chances drop to nothing. He can’t do that. Shiro’s his best friend, and had risked everything to give him a chance to see his family again. He won’t leave now. He won’t leave ever. 

So although it literally, physically pains him, he takes up a position by the door again. His leg screams in protest, and he’s shaking from a mix of pain, fear and pure adrenaline. But he holds. 

The first sentry comes into view. It raises its firearm, aiming squarely at Matt. Matt prepares to charge, spinning his staff into a ready position.

The sentry goes down in a blaze of yellow energy that cannons into it from the other side of the hallway. And fainter, but growing louder by the second, Matt can hear the unmistakable, angry-panic yell of protest as Hunk lays down cover fire and demolishes the oncoming robots. 

“Shiro! Matt!” Lance hollers over the coms, and Matt is deliriously relieved to find he can hear it in real time, too. “Escort’s here!”

“Thank goodness,” Matt pants back, lowering his staff from a combat stance to lean on it heavily again like a walking stick. “I need your help to get Shiro out of here. He can’t walk.”

“Can,” Shiro murmurs sleepily. He makes a valiant effort to rise to his feet, or at least, Matt thinks that’s what he does. His legs barely twitch, but he still groans at the effort. 

“I’m guessing whatever that was didn’t work,” Lance yells. “Hunk, I’ll cover you if more show up—grab Shiro.”

“On it!”

“Where’s Pidge?” Matt asks, worried. “She’s okay?”

“I’m guarding the rear exit with the Green Lion,” Pidge says. “We’re in camo, and your ride out.”

“Just two hallways away,” Lance adds. A blue streak of flight flashes past the doorway as Lance snipes something on the other side. “Not far, once we get you guys.”

“Good,” Matt says, relieved. He’s not sure he could run very far. Or even walk. He’s never pushed himself quite this hard before. 

He doesn’t regret doing it for a second, though.

Hunk appears around the doorway, dispelling his bayard as he steps in on the collapsed door. He winces sympathetically at Matt, and then follows Matt’s gesture towards Shiro in the corner. “Oooh,” Hunk mutters. “Is that blood? I hate blood.”

“Sorry,” Shiro mumbles. By now, he’s barely coherent.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hunk says, as he heads over to Shiro. “If I throw up, I’ll try not to do it on you.”

“Thanks.” Shiro blinks dazedly. “I think.”

“You’re welcome.”

Hunk tries to sling Shiro’s arm over his shoulder at first to help him walk, but Shiro can’t stay on his feet. In the end, he hefts Shiro into a fireman’s carry slung across his shoulders, mindful of the wound in his side. Shiro groans in protest, but goes frighteningly limp after a few moments, and Matt realizes he’s finally passed out. Matt’s honestly impressed it took so long.

“You good?” Hunk asks, gesturing to Matt and his staff-turned-walking-stick with concern.

“I can keep up,” Matt promises. “Let’s go.”

By some miracle, they manage to make it to their exit point. Pidge had kept the Green Lion in camo, while using her bayard to slice a hole into the Galra ship’s hull. It makes an unpredictable exit, which means the sentries aren’t guarding it like they are all the bay doors. That’s his brilliant little sister, always thinking outside the box.

Getting Shiro through the hole is a process, and requires Hunk to hand him through to Lance and Pidge on the other side as carefully as possible. Matt getting through is less of a process, but no less painful, and by the time he’s in the Lion’s cabin his leg has decided on no uncertain terms that it is not working any more today, thank you very much. 

But they’ve escaped, so he can live with that. For now. 

“Mission accomplished,” he radios over the coms. “Everyone, let’s get out of here.”

They do.

———

It takes Shiro almost a full day to get out of the healing pods, and everyone is waiting to greet him when he does. 

Everyone knows the story by now—Matt hadn’t been shy about sharing it—and Shiro is treated to a number of lectures and exaggerated threats about what will happen next time he tries to almost get himself killed. Even Keith, still working with the Blade of Marmora, calls back to give Shiro hell, after learning what had happened through the Blade’s impressive information network. 

Shiro accepts the threats and lectures without too much complaint, at least. He knows exactly how much he’d scared everyone, and he damn well should. 

Eventually everyone gets tired of telling Shiro off, though, and Hunk announces he has dinner waiting. Most people who leave the pods are hungry—something about the accelerated healing requiring nutrients to compensate—and it’s habit by now to at least have a bowl of food goo ready to go.

“Sounds great,” Shiro says. “Can I get a sec with Matt, though?”

“Of course,” Allura says. “We’ll be in the dining hall when you are ready.”

Everyone files out, other than Matt, who waits patiently where he’s sitting on the steps. Shiro joins him, sitting down next to him. After a moment he asks, “How’re you doing?”

Matt shrugs. “I’m okay. I used one of the pods a little bit myself, but mostly to patch up a few laser grazes and bruises.” 

Shiro nods slowly, and then gestures to Matt’s left leg, stretched out in front of him down the steps. “And how’s your knee?”

“Better than it was yesterday,” Matt says truthfully. The pods didn’t really help with healing the old wound—it had been too long—but they did help relieve some of the inflammation and strain, which let him at least walk on it again without wanting to scream. 

Shiro’s got that look again, so Matt cuts him off quickly. “We already talked about this. No apologies. I’ll take living with a chronic injury over having died over a year ago.”

Shiro sighs. “Right. Of course.” 

They fall into a companionable silence for a little while. Matt likes talking with friends, but on the months-long journey to Kerberos there had been a lot of friendly silence too, and he’s just as comfortable with that around Shiro. There’s no real rush to go anywhere, and sitting is nice. 

But eventually Shiro asks, “What was that all about, back on the ship? Why didn’t you run?” A pause. “It’s not because of that life-debt you think you owe me, right? Because I told you, you don’t owe me anything.” 

Matt snorts. “Yeah, you were pretty clear on that. But that’s not why I stayed. I mean...not the only reason.” He stares at his feet. “I told you before, I just...I can’t let people die for me anymore. I have to be better than that. I can’t just watch that happen and stand by and do nothing anymore.”

“It was a bad situation, Matt. And you would have been protecting millions of lives. I would never have blamed you if you did run.”

“Well, I would have blamed me,” Matt says. “For the rest of my life, for being cowardly enough to abandon my friend to his death again.” 

“I already said that wasn’t your fault either, Matt,” Shiro says, a little helplessly.

Matt shakes his head. Sighs. “I wasn’t ready back then,” he says. “For all this. I wanted to meet aliens, but I figured they’d be the friendly sort, y’know? ‘We come in peace.’ I wasn’t ready and you and dad ended up paying the price.” He narrows his eyes. “I couldn’t have been ready then, but I can be ready now. And I’m not gonna be that person ever again.” 

“Matt,” Shiro says, frowning at him. “There was nothing wrong with that version of you either. None of us could have seen the Galra coming.”

“You still handled it,” Matt says, with a sad smile. “You stood up for me and dad. You took my place in a deathmatch.”  

“Maybe, but that’s just because we’re different people,” Shiro says with a shrug. “I didn’t know anything about ice samples back then. Still don’t, honestly. I just drove you there, you and Commander Holt were doing all the important science stuff.” 

“Somehow, I don’t think ice samples are going to make much of a difference now,” Matt says wryly. “Other things matter more.”

“Well, you made a difference today,” Shiro says. “So thanks for that. I really mean it—I’d be dead if you weren’t as stubborn as your sister about staying behind.” He grins.

Matt smirks. “Yeah...that runs in the family.”

“I know,” Shiro says. “Three sentries on your own in crowded conditions, huh?”

“Four,” Matt says. “It’s no Myzax, but even so…”

“Still impressive. Don’t ever discount yourself, Matt. You’re a lot stronger than you think.” Shiro smiles. “And don’t discount the old Matt, either. He had that Holt stubbornness, too. That’s how you got this far.” 

Matt blinks, but then smiles softly. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“No ‘maybe,’” Shiro says, as he heaves himself to his feet off the steps. “It’s absolutely true. Anyway, we should probably get going, before Hunk hunts us down and drags us to the dinner table. You ready?” He holds out a hand.

Matt takes it, and lets Shiro help him to his feet. His left leg takes his weight stiffly, but it holds, and that’s what matters.

“Yeah. Thanks, Shiro.”

[sillylittlelouie]

Children are...

The ground groaned beneath Seira's feet when she landed, nearly giving when she pushed off once more. The wind tore at her hair as she raced across the rooftops, elegance and propriety the furthest things from her mind. 

Sir Gejutel had entrusted his grandson to her, finally giving her the opportunity to return the kindness that he had shown her. And now, the young Noble had been taken, spirited away by an unknown enemy. 

A flock of resting birds scattered around her, shrieking in alarm as she landed near their roost. One darted towards her and she glowered, directing as much of her ire as she found safe towards it. 

Still, it came towards her, prompting a few of its brethren to follow. But, at the last moment, they all turned away abruptly, seemingly thinking better of it in the last moment. 

Seira watched them go, taking a  moment to try and find her young charge. Regis was not the type to cause her to worry like this. 

Adding to her worry too, was the homeowner. She was almost certain that the human was something more.

She couldn't quite identify it yet, but there was definitely something darker about him. She swore that she'd sensed it first on that day when the young boy, Milan, had gone with his colleagues, in spite of hers and Regis' intervention. And she'd sensed that darkness a few more times in the handful of days that had passed since the boy's disappearance, the worst being no more than two days ago.

But that was a consideration for another time.

Right now, as she leapt across the rooftops, she needed to focus all of her attention on finding Regis. All she needed to feel was an iota of his energy. Once she felt it, come hell or high water, she would find him.

And when she did, the ones that took him would find themselves with the devil to pay.

      If anyone asked him, Tao would say that he was well versed in the art of working in distracting circumstances. He had to be - there was no other option but to do his job while screams and the sound of explosions served as a backdrop. 

Well, actually, he theoretically could refuse to work under those conditions. But then the team would run the risk of failing the mission.

To fail a mission meant disappointing Krans.

It meant disappointing the doctor that made them.

And to disappoint Dr. Aris was a no-option.

So Tao worked while the scent of blood and smoke clung to the inside of his nostrils, listening to the chaos happening inside his ears.

Once in a while, he got lucky, and the humdrum audio would be replaced with breaking bones and random bursts of gunfire. 

But some sounds were constants. 

Harsh breaths in his ear. The clack of the keys on his keyboard, beating out a stark staccato. Krans barking orders. The rustle of wrappers and the wet smack of food in Hammer's mouth as he chewed. The faint swish and click of Takeo's hair ties. 

The sound of Shark's laughter.

That was an absolute constant. Always ringing in his ears, looming, hanging in the air on each mission, like an ever-present black cloud. Always there.

Tao could ignore it.

Just like he could ignore the smack of flesh as it collided, and the coppery tang of blood on the air.

He always did.

He flinched when Shark hit the Noble again. Ik-han and his friends cried out as if they were the ones that had been the one hit, and Tao swore that he could feel the sharp sting of the blow.

Punch after punch landed across the Noble's face, painting a bloody portrait. 

It was disgusting.

Tao wanted to look away. 

To walk away, like Takeo had done. 

To hide his face in his knees like M-21 was doing.

Anything, just so that he didn't have to see or hear Ik-han and his friends crying.

 Speaking of...

He glanced down at M-21 again. 

Every time Shark's fist landed, the boy would flinch. His shoulders would hitch, and a jerky sound would escape him. 

Children always seemed like they were pretty empathetic, so it was probably just as hard for him to watch as it was for Tao. Even if he had nothing to do with the noble, or the group of teens.

Krans was being cruel, letting Shark do this in front of the boy.

He looked away from their tiny prisoner, just in time to catch the red-head's foolish attempt to save the noble.

"Stop it!"

The exclamation crashed through the room, as brash and reckless as its owner, who hurtled towards Shark with reckless abandon. 

Shark grinned, manic, as he turned around, arm already extended to knock the boy backwards. But it never connected. 

His face however, became distorted as the sharp slap of skin against skin announced the success of the initial attack.

Almost as soon as the boy landed his blow, he sprang back, out of the immediate striking range of an unmodified human. Tao narrowed his eyes.

"You punk...I'll kill you!"

The boy had obviously been trained, whether by repetition or by a professional. His fingers twitched at his sides, eager for his computer, wanting to document his findings in the next mission report.

"L-let them go, and I'll tell you...I'll tell you one of the things that you want to know!"

At the sound of his shout, Tao glanced down at M-21. His eyes were wide as he stared up at Kranz, shining with something that the hacker couldn't identify. He'd stood from his crouch, on legs that shouldn't have been able to support him, for how badly they shook.

"I-if you let them go and give them the pill...the one to 'rase people's mem'ry-" M-21's voice faltered, and his mouth worked, but no sound came out.

Some of the most hardened soldiers found it difficult to face Kranz, once they'd been captive for less time than M-21 had been. Tao could understand what the boy was going through. But why now, of all times?

"If you just 'rase their...if you do that,"M-21's voice continued, grounding Tao in the present again. 

He hadn't even noticed that his attention was wandering.

"I'll tell you one of the things you guys wanted to know." He looked away now, down at his feet. I-I...I promise you,...I'll m-make it worth your time, honest, I really will!"

Tao turned away from the conversation. 

Kranz would never agree to the request. M-21 was wasting his breath, and Tao's time.

He just wanted to get this over with, so he could get Ikhan's face out of his mind, and forget that he'd ever even met the boy.

     M-21 didn't move after he landed in front of Shinwoo-hyung.  He stayed down close to the ground, just like '24 and the others had always told him to do, especially if he got into a fight if they weren't around to help him.

He bit his lip.

Well, just like '64 always told him.

'24 and '13 always told him to run away and try to find one of them to help him.

He looked over at the door.

He could still run away. He could run as fast as he could and then, then...

'24 and the others would be happy, right?

M-21 looked back at Shinwoo-hyung and the others. 

If he left them now, what would happ'n to them?

Kranz wouldn't try to protect them from Shark like '24 did with Jake. And Tao wasn't  big enough. So it would have to be him.

M-21 looked up, ready to give Shark his meanest look.

He wasn't there.

M-21 looked around again, but-

"You low-level trash! How dare you act up! You think your weak transformation is something!?"

-money in his mouth. Where did Shark come from? He was just-

"I'll kill you right here! I'll end you! A piece of garbage like you, daring to put its filthy paws on me; I'll draw out your death for as long as I can!"

-His head hurt. So did his back. And his foots. Everything hurt. 

'ceptin' his arms. He couldn't feel those.

But it was okay. 

Even if the room kept spinning, and even if Yuna-nuna and Suyi-nuna were crying and screaming, because he was protecting them just like '24 did. he was protecting them from the mean people and he could see '24 and the others and they were smiling at him and it was okay that they lied to him because he got it and he-

[dreamwritesimagines]

Don’t You Love Me? 4 - Whiskey Fever [Steve Rogers x Reader]

A.N.: Your feedback makes me so happy, please keep it coming! <3

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton.

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of addiction, self destructive behavior, cussing, explicit language.

Summary: Let the denial begin.

Word Count: 2146

Read Chapter 1 here!

Read Chapter 2 here!

Read Chapter 3 here! 

The beautiful moodboard is made by fictionwillneverdie

Gif’s not mine!

In all honesty, maybe Steve going away for a while was going to be good for you.

Maybe.

Maybe by the time he came back, you would stop having these dreams or manage to stop staring at him.

Fuck, even the booze didn’t help.

So there you were, blasting music at full volume while you typed as fast as you could on the keyboard, eyes focused on the screen but as soon as the music stopped you heard someone hushing somebody on that three second pause before the next song began.

“Nat!”

“What, I’m just saying-“

“She’s sitting ten feet away from you,” You heard Steve’s whisper and you lowered the music on one of the earphones while the other one still blasted on full volume, and you kept typing, frowning slightly.

“She’s listening to music, I can hear that song even from here.”

A small smile pulled at your lips and you reached for the whiskey glass beside you, then took a sip, leaning closer to the screen.

“Still…” Steve sounded hesitant and Natasha heaved a sigh.

“Y/N, your taste in booze is so shitty.” She called out and you bit on your lip in order not to laugh, “Uh… Star Wars is a terrible movie. I think technology is the worst thing happened to people- see? She’d react by now.”

You typed in the code and cracked your neck, still keeping your eyes on the screen.

“Nat, you’re supposed to focus on the next mission, not finding me a date.”

Your fingers froze over the keyboard but only for a second. Your heart started slamming against your ribcage but you bit inside your cheek, then took a drag off your cigarette.

“I can do both.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t do both.”

Natasha cleared her throat, “Don’t let the whole… tough exterior intimidate you-“

“It doesn’t intimidate me.” Steve cut her off almost instantly and Natasha drummed her fingernails on the table.

“Then?”

“Then nothing.” Steve mumbled and Natasha scoffed,

“Did you show her the-“

“No,” Steve cut her off again, and you frowned slightly, “And you weren’t supposed to see that either.”

“I’m nosy.” Natasha stated, but both of them were distracted as soon as Bucky walked inside. You nodded at him to greet him, then turned your glances to screen again.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“She’s hiding from Tony-“

“Tony wishes I was hiding from him, Rogers-“

“Because she still hasn’t contacted Bruce.”

“And Steve has a secret-“

“Nat!”

“Is the secret about him staring at the girl staring at her laptop right now, because that isn’t exactly a secret.”

“Don’t you two have lives?” Steve grumbled, making you bite on your lip not to giggle, but then you took a look at the screen and pulled the earphones out of your ears.

“Fuck yes!” You turned to Steve, “I’ve got a surprise for you Cap.”

“We don’t get a surprise?”

“Buck-“

“What, are you jealous?”

Bucky repressed a smirk, “No, I’m just saying. You’re playing favorites.”

You scrunched up your face while Steve chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That obvious huh?”

“Very.” Natasha said and you heaved a sigh,

“Yeah well, secret’s out.” You extended your hand, “Give me your shield.”

Steve looked around and handed you the shield, and you turned it over, inspecting it.

“Okay, it should work.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m hacking your shield.”

“Y/N, there’s nothing for you to hack in that thing.”

“Yet,” You pointed out “Fine, I’m upgrading your shield. I was actually thinking how we can upgrade all of your weapons-“ Bucky held up his arm, “I can’t make that one better than it already is man, I’m just clever, not a genius.”

“How come I don’t get a weapon upgrade?”

“You’re the weapon yourself and you refused to go out with me.” You muttered to Natasha, still inspecting the shield and Steve looked from you to her, and from the corner of your eye you saw Natasha shaking her head.

“I’m still working on Clint’s, but Cap’s is done,” You raised your head, and grabbed your whiskey “Come with me to the lab.”  

Steve nodded like a dutiful soldier and followed you suit as you left the kitchen and walked to the elevator.

“You didn’t have to upgrade it, I know you’re really busy with…” he waved a hand in the air, “Computer stuff.”

“Nah, I wanted to,” You bit on your lip to stop yourself from smiling, Jesus, why was it that every time you were around this guy you had this urge to smile? “I want to help. And they’re right, you know?”

“About what?”

“You really are my favorite.” You scrunched up your nose in order to hide your smile but that seemed to do nothing as he reflected your smile and he looked elsewhere for a second before his eyes fell on you.

“Am I?”

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Steve!” You whined as you took a sip from your whiskey, making him chuckle and you both walked into the lab.

“So, what’s the surprise?”

You turned to him, a mischievous smirk pulling at your lips, “Okay, so… I have a confession.”

“Hm?”

“I got the idea from Thor’s hammer.”

“Only the worthy will be able to lift my shield?”

“I’m not a witch Rogers, I can’t make that shit happen.”

“No but you basically make magic happen.”

“I know how to use technology.”

“Same difference.”

“And this is why you’re my favorite.” You pointed out and walked to the table to out down your glass, and grab the small chip along with the wristband. After placing the chip on the shield, you handed him the wristband and walked to the other side of the room.

“Don’t get all excited, it’s just a test drive- hey, if I had a dollar every time I said it to a guy…” You shook your head slightly, “Okay, so I was thinking, the shield is sort of your thing, right? And if I were your enemy, that’d be the first thing I’d try to grab from you.”

“Yeah, once Buck-“ he stopped himself, “Yeah I get it.”

“So. There’s a small button right under your wrist,” You raised the shield, holding it tight, “Press that.”

Steve pushed the button and as soon as he did, the shield flew from your grip as if there was a huge magnet and Steve caught the shield mid-air before it could even hit him.

“Congrats, Cap. Now you’re the second Avenger who can call his weapon to his hand.”

Steve’s jaw dropped as he looked down at the shield, then back at you.

“How did you-?”

You grinned, “Neat trick, huh?” you asked as you grabbed your glass again, then took another sip, “I’ve been watching your fighting styles, so that I can understand if something goes bad in…whatever place Fury sends you.”

“Watching-“

“Yeah. So I figured I ‘d use it to develop your weapons.”

Steve gawked at you for a couple of seconds, “You know, you’re wrong about yourself.”

“Probably, but elaborate?”

“You really are a genius.”

You rolled your eyes, and a burning spread over your cheeks-

Fuck no, what were you, sixteen? You wouldn’t blush.

That was just the alcohol in your system.

“Yeah well, it’s not coming for free buddy, I want something in return.”

“Which is?”

“Your word. To be actually careful in this mission.”

Steve pulled his brows together, “You’re worried?”

“Yeah man, if something happens to you, my ass is grass.”

“Oh-“

“And…” You shrugged and cleared your throat, “I mean yeah- I- I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt.”

Steve’s glances on you felt way too intense and you took another sip, then licked your lips,

“Or- or anyone in the team. But especially you, and- and you know why? Because you’re the only reckless motherfucker who jumps off a plane without a parachute, like seriously Rogers what the fuck is your deal-“

“Y/N?”

“Oh thank you Jesus,” You turned to Tony, “Hm?”

“Am I interrupting something?”

Both you and Steve took a step back, “No.”

“Fury wants an update on the mole and Cap, we gotta get ready.”

Your head shot up. “Wait, why?”

“We’re leaving in an hour.”

“This hour?!” You asked, “Like this hour we’re in-?”

“Yeah, how much did you drink?” Tony shot you a weird look as he walked out of the door, and called out; “Suit up Cap!”

Steve nodded, then his eyes fell on you and he offered you a small smile. You crossed your arms, averting your eyes.

“So do I have your word or not? Because I can totally deactivate the whole thing-“

“Don’t deactivate it,” he cut you off “If –uh… if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep it.”

“I’m not hearing any promise though, am I?”

That seemed to make him chuckle and he nodded slowly,

“Okay then,”

“Okay then Y/N, I won’t do anything stupid.”

“Okay then Y/N, I won’t do anything stupid,” he repeated and shot you an almost boyish, mischievous look, “I mean we’re the Avengers. What could possibly go wrong?”

                                              *

“Rogers, when you come back, I’ll make sure to program that shield into repeatedly hit you in the head!” You snapped as you rushed from one screen to another, your eyes darting around wildly, “Tony, there are five more coming from the second exit to your right-“

“Got it.” Tony said as Pepper bit on her nails, eyes focused on the monitor.

“Fuck HYDRA so bad,” You mumbled and heard Clint’s chuckle.

“Yeah, my point.”

“You and Nat seem to- Steve, what the actual fuck are you doing?”

“Getting to the engine room,” Steve replied as he ran towards the hall and you pulled at your hair,

“There are at least twenty people coming your way, go to the second floor and meet-“

“No time, Y/N.”

“Jesus Christ-“ You downed the whiskey and filled yourself another glass, as Pepper’s eyes caught the glass.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“This dickhead is giving me an adrenaline rush so bad that I’m still fucking sober-“

“Language,” Bucky taunted and you scoffed.

“Oh fuck off Barnes,” You muttered, then bit on your lip, “Oh- Bucky, there are two more approaching-“ You started, but Bucky had already disarmed them as Natasha rushed in to save the day. “Can someone go help this star spangled-“ You heard the gunshots and all of a sudden the camera showing Steve went black.

The sudden panic hit you so bad that it knocked the breath off you.

“S-Steve?” You heard your own hoarse whisper but it didn’t even sound like your voice, “Rogers!”

Those five seconds felt much, more than only five seconds until your heard his panting,

“I’m here.” He sounded out of breath, “Got the files, see you guys at Quinjet.”

“See you Cap.”

“Yeah, see your ugly faces there.”

You stared at the screen until all of them jumped to the Quinjet and suddenly, your legs gave out. You ripped the earpiece out of your ear, tossed it on the table and downed the whiskey in one big gulp.

“You okay?” Pepper asked you and you ran a hand over your face, not caring about your makeup at all.

“I can’t-“ You tried to find your voice but it was still too weak. You cleared your throat and tried again, “I- Fury needs to find someone else.”

“You handled it well.”

“My head is spinning.”

“That’s the alcohol.”

“No Pepper, that’s fear.” You mumbled, and Pepper tilted her head to the left, her eyes searching your face.

“Why do I have a feeling that it’s not about the team?”

“What?”

“The blood left your face when the camera went dead.”

“Yeah because I thought dickhead actually died!”

“And you don’t want him to die.”

“Pepper, don’t…” You buried your face into your hands, “Don’t make it sound like that.”

“I don’t make it sound like anything.”

Your heart was still beating like crazy and you just stood frozen like that for a couple of seconds, only sound in the room was Pepper’s stable breathing as opposed to your fast one. You gritted your teeth and tried to pull yourself together before you lifted your head.

“Well then,” You cleared your throat, “They’re coming back, safe and sound. My work is done for now.”

“Y/N-“

“And you can have thank god you’re alive sex with your boyfriend, should be fun.”

“Y/N-“

“If you need me, I’ll be at the nearest bar.”

“Don’t you think you need to talk about it?”

“Nah, I’m gonna ignore it with booze and pretzels.” You grabbed your bag, “Tell them I said hi when they come back though, I’m going on a bender.”

“You can’t ignore this forever-“

“I sure as fuck can try!” You said, and walked out of the door.

Okay then.

Let the denial begin.

Chapter 5 is here! 

                                              *

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[mygiantesslove]

Are you still alive?

1. Meeting the Ballerina

"Still alive?” asked Marilyn to her high heeled chunky loafer shoe. In fact, she was talking to someone inside her shoe. That specific someone had been in there for nearly 4 hours without interruption while at work. It was now noon, beginning of December.

“I am alright,” said a low shriveling voice from inside the musky smelly shoe.

“Okay.” Said Marilyn. She then placed the shoe back on the ground and carelessly pushed her foot back in, twisting her ankle for until it was a tight fit. Under her black cotton socked toes, there was a tiny half-inch naked girl, a bit absent-minded.

Marilyn works for a law firm, she’s the law student who never became a lawyer but more of a counseling jurist. She spends most of her days on the computer reviewing texts, making sure they are legal, and stuff like that. She’s a 35 years old single woman, loves to drink wine and smoke cigarettes and has 2 passions: Classic ballet and figure skating.

The tiny girl who was actually being a bit tortured inside her shoe is Annie, 20 years old. Now, Annie is what we call a “shrinker”. She was diagnosed being a shrinker when she was young, learned to live her life with it and at some point, when she was 20, she just decided that she should have a life of her own. She stole her purple jewel from her mom and ran away, moved out of town, and decided to use all her savings to rent an apartment and work full time in a coffee house in NYC. Annie, much like many shrinkers, had grown up living half of her life in her mother and sister’s shoes, being crushed under smelly women’s feet is something Annie had lived a LOT. She hated it as much as she enjoyed it, depending on who was crushing her, how, in what circumstances and footwear type. But Annie was now in control of her own life, a rare thing for a shrinker, and she kept her purple jewel safe. When twisted, that jewel had the power to shrink her or grow her back to normal size.

Nobody knew who she was, and she could have a normal life.

Annie now lives in the apartment under Marilyn’s, she moved in and met Marilyn a few days later. They became friends quite quickly in fact, and it was a most awkward moment for them. It was earlier in September, Annie heard tap sounds from the apartment above. Like someone hitting the floor with a small hammer, rhythmically, like following music tempo. Curious, but also a bit annoyed by the sound from the apartment above, Annie went upstairs and knocked at the apartment’s door. She could hear classical music inside and someone walking to open the door. Marilyn smiled, wearing ballet points, white nylons, and dancewear uniform, her jet black hair in a ponytail.

“Oh hi!” said Marilyn.

“Hi, I am Annie, I just moved below a few days ago.” Said Annie extending her hand. Both girls shook hands and met normally. “I see you’re uh...a ballet dancer?” asked Annie. Marilyn smiled and invited Annie to follow her inside, where she grabbed the stereo remote to cut the music off and lit a cigarette. “Wow, nice apartment.” Said Annie.

“Just likes yours I guess. No?”

“No, well mine is not a loft. And hmm, well I just moved in so I don’t have all the decorations, just what is necessary.” Annie smiled shyly, quickly overwhelmed by the cigarette’s smoke. Annie was staring at Marilyn’s ballet pointe shoes with great fascination. Being inside all sorts of footwear for all her childhood, she had never been inside ballet points and she couldn’t help but stare.

Marilyn said something but Annie was distracted and unfocused.  Marilyn talked about stuff and finally ended up with a question: “So what do you think?”

“Me? Oh, hmm, sure. I don’t mind trying, I’ve never been put inside ballet points before.” Answered Annie.

“Uh...what?” Marilyn puffed out her smoke and looked at Annie with a weirded expression on her face. “Annie? I ask you what you think about the neighborhood...” Marilyn looked confused.

Annie’s face became as red as a beet. She couldn’t believe she got so distracted and absent-minded. She could not believe what she just said, she was sure she only thought it. She looked up at Marilyn, who was quirking a brow in disbelief. “I am sorry, I was, hmm, thinking out loud. I mean... I was...distracted. I huh... I do like the neighborhood, a really nice place to live, really. Hmm, sorry about that.”

There was a silence. Annie couldn’t help but look at Marilyn staring at her and look down at the floor. Marilyn crushed her cigarette in her ashtray and flexed her right leg up, bringing it up, straight until she rested her heel on the countertop. The apartment being somewhat a loft the kitchen, the living room and the dining room were all one big room. Marilyn stretched her body forward like a gymnast, grabbing her own foot by the sole and stretching her leg. Annie was looking at this whole stretching without saying a word, she glanced at Marilyn’s ballet pointe shoe on the counter.

“How small can you shrink?” asked Marilyn who clearly made 1+1 in her head.

“I am sorry?”

“How small?” asked Marilyn, this time stretching her other leg, bringing it up on the counter and bending her body over it like she did with the other leg. Annie hesitated and fidgeted. “Come on, don’t be shy, I know of your kind. Never met one before, but, sometimes there is news in the papers about your kind being crushed to death and all. Aren’t you old to be a shrinker?” asked Marilyn.

“I huh... survived like I could.” Said Annie, inadvertently admitting her condition. She instantly sighed and realized that she had just told a pure stranger about herself and that she should have been more careful. Living in the big world by herself could be dangerous and she was new to this, mostly.

“Most of you are kept inside shoes right?” asked Marilyn without any concern.

“Yes...hmm, mostly. Yes.” Said Annie.

“And you like it?” asked Marilyn, now rotating her ankles on her points to stretch them and keep them warm.

“I don’t! I mean, you know...” She hesitated.

“It’s okay you can tell me....” said Marilyn to ease Annie’s visible discomfort.

“...well, after spending almost half my life in my mother’s and my sister’s shoes, I kind of...I kind of got used to it. But, now I am free, I can live a normal life you know.”

“I am happy for you, really. All I hear about your kind is horror stories, mostly. So what do you like, the pressure?....the smell?...being humiliated?” asked Marilyn.

Annie realized she was talking to a very understanding woman in her mid 30’s who actually respectful towards her, even if she was a shrinker and had a “lower” status in society. No rights, no consideration, shrinkers were seen more like objects than real human beings. For a rare time in her young life, Annie was getting compassion from someone, a stranger, who she actually wanted to become friends with even if she was way older. “I hmm, huh, how to say. I have never talked about this before.”

Marilyn shrugged. “You did start it.”

“I guess you’re right... Wow, I am a fool.” Said Annie.

Marilyn did not answer.

“Hmm, yeah well, hmmm....Smell is always different, sometimes I like it sometimes I hate it. Pressure hurts, but I am more sturdy than I look.” She gave Marilyn a little shy smile, trying to sound humorous. Marilyn returned the smile. “As for being humiliated, well... I don’t know, I can’t remember not being humiliated. People just don’t care about us you know, they don’t care if we die.” Explained Annie.

“Yeah, that’s quite horrible, really. One would hope our president would do something for shrinkers rights but I think she’s biased. Some say she has a shrinker in each of her shoes at all times. Maybe she enjoys torturing you guys too much to actually change anything.” Said Marilyn, still flexing her ankles and lighting another cigarette.

“Yeah, I heard those rumors...Thanks for being nice,” said Annie, not knowing what else to say.

“So how small?” asked Marilyn after a few puffs.

“I am sorry?” asked Annie, unsure.

“Well, if you want to try being inside my ballet points while I practice, you have to tell me how small you can shrink, cause it’s quite cramped in there.” Said Marilyn way too casually than Annie was used to.

“Hmm uh..oh, uh....1 inch tall ...I think...maybe... oh my god...What am I doing!?” Annie stuttered, visibly shy, and also aroused, but mostly embarrassed.

“Oh...that’s big. Maybe I could squeeze you under the arch of my foot at that size, but if you want to really be in the toe section....” Marilyn tapped the hard tip of her right ballet pointe on the floor, making a few Toc toc sounds. “....you got to shrink way smaller.” With that, Marilyn stood up on her points and maintained her balance. She arched her arms above her head and walked on her points until she was in the middle of the living room, and the dropped back on her feet and proceeded with a few arabesques and dance moves in sheer elegance, her shoulder and arm tattoos contrasting with her white dancewear, moving like a feather in the thick smoke cut by orange sunlight from the large loft windows. She finished her cigarette, walked-danced back to the ashtray and crushed it in, all under the fascinated, astonished, admiring eyes of Annie, who was hardly containing her excitement.

“Half an inch maybe? Said Marilyn, slowly exhaling her smoke in the shy girl’s face.

“I can try,” said Annie. Completely mesmerized and under Marilyn’s charm.

“Still a bit big, but, I guess if you get crushed in there I can’t be held responsible. You see, I am a jurist. I know the laws.” Said Marilyn. “So, what do you say, shall we try?” Marilyn got closer to Annie and ran the back of her hand on the 20 years old shrinker’s cheek, very smoothly, caringly, teasingly.

“S....sure... I.. huh...I’ll get my jewel, it...it’s downstairs.” Said Annie.

Marilyn smiled and nodded, then grabbed the remote of her stereo and pressed play. Classical music continued to play and Marilyn went on practicing ballet moves, on her points. “Don’t bother knocking on the door when you come back.” She said, already not giving Annie any more attention. Annie took a few seconds to really take in what was happening, and suddenly felt like Marilyn was a good person, and that she should get downstairs in her own apartment and come back with her jewel as fast as possible. And that’s what she did.

Minutes later, she was back, holding her purple jewel necklace. Marilyn has paused to drink water. The angle of the sun rays was slowly getting smaller, soon, they would see the sun setting over the city skyline.

“Hi again.” Said Annie.

“Come on Annie, stop being all shy it’s okay. I mean, I think you’re very courageous to actually knock on my door, staring at me and my shoes, and ask me to put you inside. As weird as it may sound I don’t care, I am in fact impressed, many in your situation would have never done that.” Said Marilyn, smiling and holding a towel around her neck. “So how does it work?”

“Hmm, you have to hmm, hold it like this and spin it, and the more you spin the more I’ll shrink and well, that’s it, twist it again after to make me grow back.” Explained Annie.

“Don’t you have to strip?”

Annie scratched the back of her head and grinned shyly. “Yeah, kind of. Didn’t think about that one...”

“No problem. Go ahead.” Marilyn grabbed the jewel and inspected it. It took a few seconds for Annie to actually acknowledge that she had just handed ultimate power over her to a complete stranger. Yet, she felt interestingly in confidence and started to slowly strip, shivering. Marilyn looked at the girl. Being a jurist, Marilyn is a confident woman, she hardly had any prejudice, but she had a strong character. “Yeah, well, that’s a weird way to meet someone for the first time.”

“I know” answered Annie, naked, covering her midsection with her hands. “I feel so pathetic.”

“In all honesty, you are. But don’t worry, I wouldn’t do it if I was not a bit curious myself. I actually never tried a shrinker. I have friends who did, and said you guys were entertaining.” Marilyn paused and looked down at her feet. Annie looked down at them too. Marilyn looked back straight at Annie. “Anyway, let’s get this over with, there is a show later I don’t want to miss.” Said Marilyn, dead serious. She gave the jewel a good twist.

Seconds later, a half an inch tall tiny minuscule naked girl was on the floor beside a pile of clothes looking up at the giantess in ballet dancewear. There was a brief moment of mutual astonishment. Marilyn sat down on the floor and crossed one leg near herself and lifted her other knee up to reach her dance shoe and started untying the long silk ribbons around her leg. Annie was looking at her new neighbor with great anticipation as she saw her remove her ballet pointe shoe, revealing her size seven perfectly shaped sexy foot encased in white nylon. But a few seconds later, the torn insole of a rather warm and old pointe shoe was all Annie could see as Marilyn placed the shoe on its side in front of her. “Hop in!” said an beautifully inviting deep voice.

Annie felt the musky powerful smell of the pointe shoe, and she walked in and climbed in its moist side. The giant dance shoe’s ribbons were all over and around. Suddenly, Annie felt like falling along and sliding/tumbling on the long moist leather insole of the point shoe toward it’s hard shelled toe section. And hitting the bottom felt like hitting a moist cloth wall. She rests there as Marilyn has put the point shoe upward, on its pointe. Annie new soon Marilyn’s huge nylon toes with being crushing her right there.

Marilyn looked inside her shoe and smirked. “Remember, you wanted this.” She said before bringing her foot up and lowering it inside, blocking Annie’s light and soon, movement. The tiny girl felt the toes touching her squeeze together and push down on her. She was small enough to squeeze herself between the second and third toe, her body covered in nylon mesh and starting to absorb the woman’s foot sweat saturating the rare tiny air pockets that are not filled with her toes. Annie could hear the ribbons being enlaced around the woman’s leg and the pressure started to increase. Marilyn stood up and walked, put her music back on and started her ballet routine just as if nothing happened.

Annie, on the other hand, could feel her world rotate, swing, and tip upside down. She knew that when the pressure was hard, she was being pushed against the tip of the pointe shoe normally and when the pressure was unbearable was when the woman above her would stand on her points. Toc toc toc, she could hear the hard shell of the pointe would hit the ground under her back and all of the stranger’s weight pushing down on her tiny frame. Annie felt her right kneecap being crushed and a rib break. A few more steps and she felt her right leg go numb.

Annie was used to being crushed, she knew how to withstand this and resist. No matter how hard she was being crushed, her face full of sweaty nylon mesh and flesh, she was happy to finally be crushed by someone who made the whole experience something fun. And besides, Annie enjoyed the hard musky and sweat-soaked satin and leather mix of aromas finding its way strongly inside her nostrils when she could actually get a chance to breathe a little.

This went on for quite a while as Marilyn danced and danced and practiced, and danced again. Each time, not giving any thought about the tiny being inside her shoe. She danced around her loft in the sunset and with elegance and style, until she had done her routine ten times. Marilyn felt her feet aching and needed to release them from their squeezing prison and while doing so, she lit herself a cigarette. She greeted a tiny reddened little girl with a long exhale of smoke right into her ballet shoe.

“Still alive?”

“Yes... I am...” said Annie, tumbling down, and trying to stand and walk on the damp insole. She effectively crawled.

“Get out.” Ordered Marilyn. Annie clumsily and painfully crawled until she reached the sides of the ballet pointe slipper and hissed herself outside the shoe with great difficulty. “You look bad.” Said Marilyn. As soon as the girl was outside her shoe she stood up and gave the jewel a good twist. She looked at the tiny girl grow back up to her normal size and exhaled smoke in her face again, handing her back the jewel. “Go rest now Annie, it was nice to meet you.”

Annie nodded and put her clothes back on painfully, always holding on either the counter or a wall. “Thank you, Marilyn...”

“You’re welcome.” Said the woman helping Annie outside her apartment. The door closed behind Annie as soon as she was out in the hallway.

It took Annie a few days to fully recover, she had to call in sick at her new job and mend herself. During those days Annie never saw Marilyn, but she could sometimes hear her walk up there through the ceiling. Annie was happy to be in control of her life and desperately wanted to see her neighbor again someday.

[all-sortsa-stuff]

Natural, part 4

Pairing: Klaus Michaelson x Reader

Word Count: 2731

Warning: Language

 Part 3

Your drive started out a little sad.  Between leaving Mystic Falls which had really turned into a lot of fun, and the fact you were going to try to save your family’s estate, your emotions had been on a bit of a roller coaster.  Sending up a prayer to the Gods for guidance and strength you started the rather long journey.  After the first seven hours you stopped for a late lunch/early dinner and gas.  You called Scarlet and talked to her while you ate alone in the little diner.  She tried her best to cheer you up, which did help slightly.  It made your meal better at least.

After an hour, you were back on the road for another six.  It was hard to keep your eyes open by the time you found a motel to crash for the night.  Originally you had wanted to drive right though until you hit New Orleans.  Of course stopping when needed for gas and a bathroom, but that was not happening.  Pouring yourself into bed, you were out for hours.  Sunlight through the dingy curtain and your phone going off woke you sometime the next day.

It was too bright to open your eyes fully so you did not look at the caller.  “Hello?”

“Did I wake you?” Stefan’s voice asked from the other end.

“Mmmhmm.”  

“I’m sorry.  I figured you would be awake by now.  It’s noon.”

“Noon?  Holy shit.  I slept like fourteen hours.”  Sitting up you tried to remember the last time you had slept that long.

“You alright?”  He sounded concerned as you ran your fingers through your hair, staring out the window.

“Umm yeah, just tired I guess.”

“I take it you didn’t make it to New Orleans yet since you said it’s been fourteen hours.”  With a sigh, you leaned back against the headboard.

“Nope.  I am somewhere in Alabama.”  You heard a soft laugh from the other end.

“Alabama… that place a hundred years ago…”

“It’s too early for a history lesson, Stefan.”  That gifted you with another laugh, which brought a smile to your lips.

“Fine, fine.  Calling me ancient or something.  I just wanted to see how you were.  I was… well honestly I was worried about you.”  That caused a flip of your heart.

“Thank you for the worry but I will be okay.  I promise.”

“You can’t promise that, [Y/N].  You are a witch and our world…. It isn’t safe.  I think you know that more than most.”  He was starting to sound like Scarlet.

“I know, I know.  I will do what I can to stay safe.  Okay?”  

“Please do.  I will always come to help if you need me.”  The rest of the conversation moved on to your plans for travel that day.  Stefan made you promise to call him that night when you arrived.  He threatened to follow you down there if you did not.

 Hours later in the Southern sun and heat, you finally made it to New Orleans.  It had been several years since you had been there but it smelled exactly the same as you drove down one of the main streets.  However, the feel was different.  No longer were you with your parents during happy times and summer vacations.  This time alone, and as a more powerful witch you could feel the essence of magic that permeated so much of the city.

You stopped first at one of the small markets to pick up food, and a few cleaning supplies. Unsure of how dusty everything would be and what your mother had actually kept in stock.  Your parents had last been down over the summer and were supposed to come back for Mardi gras.  But they were killed not long after returning to Salem in September.  It made your heart hurt thinking about it.

As you drove towards the road that would take you to the house, you saw a witch’s shop off to the right. Without thinking, you pulled into the sole parking spot just outside.  As you slowly walked inside the strong smell of incense swirled together with the fragrances of the different herbs that hung from a racks close to the register.  A beautiful woman with dark skin and a high ponytail called out to her from behind the counter.  “Welcome. Anything I can help you find?”

You could see the coven tattoo on her forearm as she set the book down she had in her hands.  “Sage?  I need to bless and purify my home.  Make sure there is nothing there to keep me up at night.”  

“I have a few bundles over here, sugar.”  The woman walked over to the rack that was close to the front window, picking up one of the bundles and extending it out to you.  Your hand brushed hers as you took the sage.  There had been a flash of power between the touch but she said nothing, only eyeing you warily.  “Uhh… is there anything else I can get you?  I have some lovely protection crystals.”

“Not today.  I need to see what is there before I go stocking up. Thank you though.  I am glad to see there is a place if I need anything.” She smiled as you followed to the register.

“Name’s Amberline, sugar. It’s my shop; if you ever need anything just let me know.  I’ve got more than what is out here.  For those… events that need an extra kick.”  With a wink, she finished the transaction handing you the now bagged bundle of sage. As you exited the shop, the bag and your purse went flying as you went to the ground, landing square on your ass.

A flurry of apologies came with a pair of strong hands lifting you at an incredible pace back to your feet.  Hands that were a bit too powerful to be human.  A teenage girl and a guy not too much younger than you… or did not look too much younger than you both were scrambling to pick up your strewn items. “I am so sorry.  I was reading my book and…”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I’m good.”  You wiped off your now sore ass as you looked between them.  He was a vampire; there was no missing the air about him.  But here in the daylight he tried to hide it.  She, with the book she had now clutched in her arms was a witch.  The book looked to be a tome of spells.  The vampire handed you your belongings with a shy smile.

“Yeah sorry.  We should have been paying attention.” Taking your purse and the bag of sage, you smiled.

“Really, it’s okay. It was an accident.”  A flash of an image appeared in your mind of the girl frustrated over something.  She slammed her hand down on a table as you realized the spell she had been working over. “Add less of the flower petals next time.  Less is more in some cases.”

You walked off towards your Jeep, flashing a wink at her.  The girl looked like she was in shock as her mouth hung open.  The rest of your trip to the house was uneventful.  As you pulled into the driveway and the house came into view, pain gripped your heart.  All the memories here with your parents came rushing back.  By the time, you parked the Jeep you were a crying mess. The flower garden in the front was overgrown but held the ghosts of the memories of you planting all the season’s flowers each summer with your mother.

The old hammock was torn and tattered but reminded you of the lazy afternoons you would drink sweet tea with your father as you relaxed together in it.  Sage was not going to rid the house of everything.  Sometimes the memories would cause more harm than anything else would.

 You made yourself a sandwich for dinner eating it as you stood looking at the formal living room. The house had been part of a large plantation at one time, but much of the land had been sold over the years. The main house had burned in the 1920’s though it was never found out how or why.  The lone survivor was the eldest son who then inherited the land. He took over one of the other larger houses on the plantation that his uncle and aunt had lived in.  There he raised his own family passing the property down to his children.

Many years later when your grandfather had died just before you were born, your father inherited what was left of the land and the house.  Now here you stood looking at all the covered furniture deciding that it would wait until the morning.  You wanted to walk outside and listen to the quiet before you tried to lay down to sleep.

Walking onto the back porch you leaned against one of the large white columns sighing loudly.  You father had told you that he had started building a greenhouse in the back yard.  It was no doubt to entice you to join them during their trips to New Orleans for the summers.  However, it would not have surprised you if they had started to plan to make it more than just the summerhouse.  While they had not been of retirement age yet, Salem was bitter cold during the winters. After a while, it ate away at you.

The basic frame of the greenhouse was up.  It needed a lot more work but it would be almost as large as the one you had back home. The thought of all of the different plants you could grow down here all year long popped into your mind.  Which led to you taking a walk through the framework. Your hand brushing over the wood beams that your father had put up himself.  Another image appeared in your mind of him with his radio blaring 80’s music as he sang along horribly.  Hammering away as your mom was not far off in a lounger reading a book.

There was so much work for you to do around the place but you had to figure out if you could even save the property from being taken away.  Fifteen thousand was a lot, but you would do everything you in your power to make it. Instead of a call, you sent Stefan a quick text that you had arrived safely. It just was not in you to have a full conversation.  Too many things were running through your thoughts. You did not sleep as well that night as you had the previous night.  Nightmares of the house taken away plagued you.

In the morning, you were up early drinking a second cup of coffee by the time eight rolled around. Dressing as nicely as you could in the clothes you had, you made your way to the bank.  A balding man about your height had ushered you to his desk as soon as you walked in.  “Paul Thompson, miss.  Please tell me how I can help such a lovely lady today.”

The strong New Orleans accent could not be missed as he stood until you had sat in front of him. Explaining the situation and him pulling the information up on the computer, he shook his head.  “Now there’s not a whole lot I can do for you in this type of situation.  How hard is it gonna be for you to come up with the money?”

“I only have about five thousand in my savings, which is from my business.  I don’t know how I am going to come up with another five in thirty days and five more the thirty after that.”  He tutted a bit in an attempt at understanding.

“Well are ya willing to sell the property?  I mean that would pay it outright and you would be done with it.”

“No sir, I am not letting my family’s property go.  I will figure out a way.”  You clasped your hands together tightly on his desk.

“Thought so, well Miss Avery I look forward to working with ya on this.  Please call me anytime if I can do anything to help.  And… well I will talk with my manager and see if there isn’t maybe a little something we can do to ease a bit of this.”  Standing you shined the brightest smile you could at him.  Maybe it would soften him up a bit.  Paul’s cheeks went flush red as he shook your hand.

“Thank you so much.”  He babbled something you could not understand as you walked out the door.  Once outside you took a long breath to give yourself a moment before you knew you had to prepare for the worst.  You were going to have to find a job or two, perhaps three in the city to be able to even come close to what you needed.  Even then, it was not likely you would do it.  Nevertheless, refused to go down without a fight.

 After walking along the streets for a while, watching the people bustle about New Orleans you found a little café that had outdoor seating.  You were halfway through coffee and a beignet when something slammed down on the table spilling your coffee over your clothes and sending your sweet treat to the ground.  A woman ran past holding her mouth before violently getting sick in the potted plant close by.  Looking down at the table a purse that did not belong to you sat in the middle of the disaster.

“My apologies, she is… ill. Let me pay your bill and give you something for dry cleaning your clothes.”  One of the most pleasant male voices you had ever heard spoke out as you looked up.  The voice belonged to a face that had you forgetting to breathe.  Handsome was not good enough of a word to describe him.  

“Umm no… it’s alright. These clothes are old, they will wash.”  Standing, you used one of the linen napkins to wipe some of the residual liquid from your pants.  Your shirt font was covered as were both of your thighs.  Good thing the coffee had cooled a bit before it happened.  The woman came back looking embarrassed and still covering her mouth.  The man handed her a handkerchief that she gladly accepted, wiping her face.  

“I’m so sorry.  I couldn’t stop it.  I didn’t mean to ruin your clothes or your lunch.”  You smiled, understanding the cause.  The energy the woman put off was easily recognizable.

“Ginger root and lemon tea with a teaspoon of honey in the morning would help that.”  The woman and man both looked confused.

“For the morning sickness. Ginger root and lemon tea with honey before your feet touch the floor.  It’s a great help for it.”  Both looked like they wanted to deny it but you shook your head.  “If you want to keep it a secret it’s fine.  But I swear it works.”

The man extended his hand towards you though the look on his face was one of serious questioning.  “I am Elijah, Miss?”

Taking his hand you squeeze a bit as you shook.  “[Y/N].”

Elijah nodded before releasing your hand.  “Haley and I are deeply sorry for the trouble.  If you won’t take money for dry cleaning, at least let me pay the check and for more of the beignets.”  

“Yes, please.  It would make me feel better for ruining your lunch and your clothes.”  Haley smiled as she clasped her hands together.  The look on her face broke your resolve.

“Alright, that’s fine. But really, it is no big deal.  I just seem to have that kind of luck lately. Thank you for picking up the check. I hope you feel better Haley.” You picked up your purse and walked back towards your Jeep.  The feeling of their eyes still on you as you walked away.  Stefan’s words of warning came to mind as you climbed up into the vehicle.  The last day made you wonder if everyone in New Orleans was part of the supernatural world. The witches and vampire from the previous day, now this vampire and you were fairly certain a wolf, today.  All you wanted was to save your home and grow flowers.  You really did not think it was too much to ask.

Part 5

Tags: @bolontiku  @aquabrie   @malindacath  @almondbuttercup @hellkat2  @dustycelt  @sassymcgonagal1651  @a-series-of-reasonable-events @dearestniklause  @hannah795 @somethingweird168  @cozyjaws  @graysonmalfoy

[2bstudioblog]

Let’s talk about Jacktrip

Actually, I have found this audio-extension for low-latency audio drivers for over a year, but let’s talk about it here for the first time.

Jacktrip is an audio-extension software solution that allows itself to place itself on-top of the audio-source of any known chat-apps like Skype and Zoom, to be able to let musicians who live from a distance to be able to Jam in real-time.

Skype and Zoom in reality if you have a guy calling from L.A to talk to someone in New York, the direct line in communication if we could travel by the speed of light would be about 11ms. But the networks that we add to our communication will start to chip away on that smooth “direct” line. Anything we place on it will extend the latency.

First we have the computer/tablet, which then by itself will not be able to really punch up the audio-quality, so here we add the sound-card which would in reality be able to make the sound more direct if we record instruments into our computer. The attack from the moment we press down a key on a piano, the hammer swings and then hit the string, that process is about 11ms. We can reach that kind of result if we attach a midi-keyboard, the computer process the midi-signal, translate that into a note/velocity value and then play it back to us in the same amount of time. It’s still a lot of calculations being made in that small time-frame.

Now, if we would use the standard Skype or Zoom to broadcast this audio over the internet for the other person to hear and start jamming to, with all that gear between the computer and audio-interface we have now started to reach a latency online from 11ms to 113ms, which would affect the way we feel, interact with sloppy timing. The audio-communication programs only job is produce sound and video, but only to its basic needs. Talking fine, but jamming along, not so.

Enter: Jacktrip

The bi-directional audio plugin that you add on-top of your chat software to enact a high-resolution audio signal with about 10-15ms of latency, making it possible for musicians to finally practice and jam with other performers of the internet. In quarantine times, this open-source software was programmed by and developed by students at Stanford University and operates under the license by Paul Davis, Stephane Letz, Jack O'Quinn, Torben Hohn, Filipe Coelho and others.

A musicians dream to finally jam with others online, get your chops done and practice for the next summer tour. It is here, but you might need to do a little bit of typing in command line to get it to work. And if you’re software savvy, you’ll be able to improve on the code and extend its purpose.

So far I have seen 2 guys, a piano player and a drummer, both living about 3-4 miles away from each other, playing in sync to show the concept and proof of that this is really happening. Another video shows a jazz trio (Piano, Bass, drums) playing in sync as well.

If this ever become a fully paid software that would be easy to install to improve the abilities of audio inside Skype and Zoom I would buy it. But now it is even better. IT IS FREE. But some tinkering might be required.

Here are some examples:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HEAwL3uQDKU

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8fVuBnm07ug

There are other software out there like Jamulus, Still you will experience pops-and cracks, so it’s all about fine-tuning the latency between the card/computer/server to find a “workable” sweet-spot. Remember, this won’t replace the rehearsal space, but it serves as a good backup-plan in case the car has broken down for the members on their way to the rehearsal, fire up the PC and let’s go.

[shiphaussecretsanta]

Deserving

Secret Santa gift from isitjustmeinhere for @staranon95

Ship: Killemses

warnings for torture and angst!

It was stupidity on his part, when he thinks on it. Needing a speedy escape from a heist was no excuse to cut through an enemy gang’s territory alone, yet he’d done it without a thought. In his defense, it’s hard to think with three dozen heavily armed, pissed off LSPD officers on your back. He couldn’t have anticipated how quickly it would go south, however, high profile enough that a scout had seen him two minutes into his excursion. The ensuing fight hadn’t been much of a fight at all, a sneaky blow to the back of the head leaving him off balance and nauseous enough to only throw  a handful of punches before he took another hit to the temple and went down hard.

There’s no telling how long he was out for, but it must have been significant if the ache in his ass from the metal chair is any indication. He can feel the dried blood on his lips from where the punk scout had gotten in a solid hit, but the taste of blood is absent, so it was definitely an extended time lapse. His head is still fuzzy, his stomach churning and eyes burning even in the low warehouse lighting. His arms are bound and his wrists feel raw from the shitty rope as he wiggles to see if he can loosen the knots. The door must be behind him, because he hears a creak and some grinding, followed by a shout he’s too exhausted to bother understanding. It only takes moments for him to realize what the guy must have been saying, as the door squeals again to herald two sets of footsteps.

It’s not the first time he’s been tortured, and it probably won’t be the last, with his luck. He’s already in agony when they bring out the bucket of water. His arms and torso are a battlefield of fresh new wounds and old scars, black t-shirt in pieces on the floor. The leader of the two interrogators takes a long drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the bloody mess that he’s sure his forearm is underneath somewhere.

He straightens his suit and asks a question he must know Adam isn’t going to answer. When he gets no response - as if Adam could come up with a single coherent thought through the pain - the other man sits the water bucket in Adam’s lap and forces his head down until he’s taking a startled breath of water right into his lungs. His body tries to cough but that just gives him a mouthful of water that he tries desperately not to inhale. The man holds against his thrashing until his lungs are on fire and his vision goes spotty.

When he’s finally allowed air, he takes it in like a dying man, which, considering how much water he just coughed up, he kind of was. It’s a pretty rudimentary version of waterboarding, but definitely just as effective. More efficient. To the point.

They must be pretty well hidden if no one has come for him yet, far away or more likely in some dump his gang doesn’t know is an enemy safehouse. Smart, on this gang’s part, honestly. It’s bought them some time to actually get to the interrogation before they die. Which is unusual, because normally the guys don’t take more than a couple hours to bash their way into a hideout when one of their own is inside. But it’s totally fine, because they’re definitely coming, despite what this dickfuck in the suit is saying. His friends wouldn’t abandon him, right? Because they were friends, not just partners. Yeah, of course they’re coming. Lawrence and Bones are typing away at computers and the rest are suiting up, no, already suited up, because they are just waiting on a location, chomping at the bit to go save Adam because they care about him and love him and would protect him and are definitely going to save him. Yup, yes.

They take no notice of his burgeoning panic attack, shoving his head back under the surface of the water. This time he doesn’t hold, actually tears Adam’s head back out by the hair before dunking it again and again. It forces his breathing pattern to something abnormal, closer to hyperventilating that regular breathing. Ah, so they had noticed his panic attack. Nothing better for panic than not knowing when your next breath will come!

He tries to remember all the techniques for keeping calm, but he’s probably concussed and his head is fuzzy and his thoughts all jumbled, everything too much for him to comprehend and this motherfucker is still dunking his head like he’s a damn piece of laundry in the olden days. It’s almost a relief when his head is held underwater for longer, his neck and upper back twinging with pain after the rough treatment. His eyes burn no matter how hard he squeezes them shut against the water, his lungs feel heavy, his heart is hammering in his chest and ears. He might die here, he realizes.

His head is released, not torn from the water as it had been before, which is how he knows something is up. They’re not just going to go good cop on him for no reason. A smile breaks over his face as he hears a shitty high pitched imitation of a woman’s voice from the door. He’d recognize James anywhere.

Things should have gone batshit after that, guns-a-blazing and blows flying, but Elyse comes down from the ceiling behind Suit Guy and puts one into the back of his skull, followed quickly by one between Other Guy’s eyes. How she got through the ceiling without being noticed, Adam will never know, and he doesn’t particularly care to. James is already undoing his bonds, cheap twine splitting easily against his knife. Once he frees Adam’s legs, Adam throws the damn bucket of water onto the ground and kicks it with a fervent hatred he hasn’t felt since his teenage years. Maybe he promptly falls over because his head is still swimming, but the point is made.

“Hey,” he says, looking between the two, speech slurred and throat raw, “Can we go home now?” James laughs and Elyse smiles, shaking her head fondly as Matt peeks through the door to see Adam flat on his ass on the floor.

“Yeah buddy,” James says, “We can go home now.”

——

The drive home is objectively short, but it feels like a thousand years to Adam, battered and exhausted. Nothing sounds better than falling face-first onto his bed and sleeping forever. But instead Peake is wrapping his arms in old cloth until they can get to gauze and proper medical supplies, silent like he knows Adam’s head is still buzzing.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” is the only thing Matt says, murmured just after they walk into the penthouse and go their separate ways. Adam makes his way to the nearest bathroom, more than ready for a few painkillers to dull his headache and the agony of his arms and chest. James and Elyse come in to find him sorting through the pill bottles, trying to decide which will be most effective without thinning his blood too much. Some of the wounds are still bleeding sluggishly and he doesn’t want to make them worse.

“Hey buddy,” James greets him, grabbing a bottle of something Adam can’t quite remember but is pretty sure is oxy. He gives Adam one and says he can have another only if he really needs it. It’s good to have someone care like that, enough to bother taking his addictive personality into account.

Elyse hands him a small bathroom cup of water to help down the pill, getting to work on unwrapping Adam’s arms and torso. It sticks in a few places and Adam can’t help but hiss as a few wounds rip back open. Some need stitches, and James has a suture kit at the ready. He begins and Elyse switches between helping him and gently showering Adam’s face in kisses.

The maybe-oxy kicks in a handful of minutes later and Adam’s already tired brain is even more desperate for sleep. He thinks of curling up in James and Elyse’s bed, one of them on either side, and sleeping until his body is sore from it. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. But James has decided to close up the majority of his injuries, so it’s taking forever and a day, suture kits being jammed into the little bathroom trash can one after another. They’re gonna need to order more at this rate. Usually, he would be grumpy about having to sit on the edge of the tub for so long, but he’s getting a kiss per stitch, so maybe it’s not so bad.

James finishes cleaning off the last wound and starts applying gauze, thank god. They may as well just wrap him up like a mummy at this point, chaining together so much gauze he’s practically wearing a really weird shirt. Could you imagine a gauze shirt? Sounds itchy and fragile. Hard to sew. He may be a little loopy, but he thinks it’s justified after literally everything that happened today.

“Can we go to sleep now?” he asks, leaning his forehead against James’s to look imploringly into those ocean-clear eyes. James laughs again like before, one of Adam’s favorite sounds, pressing their lips together slowly before agreeing. Elyse tosses the last suture pack into the trash, teaming up with James to help Adam up off his perch. They’re so gentle with him it’s practically unbearable. He can’t believe he ever doubted them.

The walk to their bedroom is short, Adam’s stumbling kept to a minimum with them under either shoulder. They lower him onto the bed first, James helping him pull up his legs so he can lay down right. He scoots over to his side of the bed, closing his eyes gratefully while he waits for them to get in too.

“Hey, move over,” Elyse says, nudging him carefully. He opens his eyes and tries not to show how delighted he is to be relegated to the middle; it’s the best place to be and he usually only gets it on bad days. Well, today has certainly been one hell of a bad day, he guesses. He moves over until he hits James, who wraps arms around him in a tight hug that might have hurt without painkillers in his system, while Elyse slides into bed and pulls the covers up over the three of them. Once James releases him, Elyse pulls him in, holding him just as tight.

“Sorry it took so long to find you,” she says, voice warbling from unshed tears. He just hugs her harder, placing a kiss on top of her head. When she finally lets him go, he kisses her soft and sweet until the tears subside.

“James, now you have to cry,” she says, to James’s laughter that may or may not be a little soggy, “I can’t be the only one.”

“Already there,” he sniffles, slinging an arm over a clear part of Adam’s torso, “But our baby boy is home.” Adam preens at the nickname, nuzzling his face into Elyse’s neck with a content sigh. This is where he belongs. Right here with the two of them, even sliced up and brain-bruised. Everything is tolerable, he can make it through anything, so long as he has this to come back to.

James kisses the nape of his neck and whispers more terms of endearment there, while Elyse talks reassurances against his lips and oops, he might be the one crying now. He wants to blame it on the concussion, wants to find some reason for it that isn’t just him being overwhelmed at their love, but he doesn’t have to with them. He doesn’t have to find excuses for his emotions anymore, not with James and Elyse. He’s allowed to cry and that just makes him cry more, because they’re so lovely and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve them.

He turns so that he can reach James’s face too, and cycles between giving each of them kisses until his tears stop and his eyes won’t stay open any longer. He drifts to sleep safe and warm, between the two he loves who love him back.

[banditywrites]

The Reluctant Soldier

Created for Voltron Whump Week

Prompt: Day 7- Head Injury/Internal damage (yes, it’s late)

Summary: Lance gets badly injured. If he’s not the sharpshooter, than he is nothing, right?

Notes: Over 4K. Warnings for blood, major and minor injuries, anxiety attacks, PTSD, nausea, near death experience. NOBODY ON THE TEAM ACTUALLY DIES.

The Reluctant Soldier

Lance was the sharpshooter. It was something he was good at. He wouldn’t say he loved it. Shooting robots was fine, but he never liked it when his targets were flesh and blood. He always put that aside though. This was a war and it didn’t matter how he actually felt about killing living things.

He fired off two more shots, taking down the soldiers that were headed for Pidge.

From his position on top of the cargo crates, he could see the entire battle around him. They had gotten themselves cornered in a supply room and they were waiting for an emergency extraction from Keith in Red. Until then, they just had to stand their ground. Avoid capture.

Lance ignored the way his stomach twisted when he shot an officer through his head. They’d been going toward Hunk. He couldn’t allow that.

His team chattered consistently over the comlink. Lance, get the door. Lance, concentrate fire in front of me. Lance, can you help me out?

Lance was trying to keep low, but occasionally he had to kneel on his one knee to get a shot. He adjusted his position again trying to get a clear view. Just don’t think, just end it quickly, you’re a good shot, none of them will even realize what happened.

In his crosshairs there was an unmoving soldier. Lance went to pull the trigger, but something in the soldier’s stance made him hesitate.

This Galra was just standing there. He wasn’t giving orders or trying to attack anyone. In fact, his arms hung at his sides, he had a gun in one hand but he didn’t raise it. He just stood frozen.

Lance blinked, lowered his rifle. He stared at this Galra who had stopped on the battlefield. At this soldier’s feet lay several other Galra soldiers that Lance had already taken out.

To be on a battlefield and to see most of your comrades already fallen with holes in their heads…

Was the soldier shaking or was Lance imagining it?

Lance felt like he was falling.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

Distantly, he heard his name on the com, but he couldn’t turn away.

Just walk away. If you’re scared, just turn around and leave, Lance thought fiercely at the soldier. Just leave.

Pidge appeared in the corner of Lance’s vision and he saw the moment the soldier was able to pull himself together. Lance saw the way he clenched his fists to stop the shaking and how he took several deep breaths… raised his blaster at Pidge…

He was dead before he could even aim at her.

Lance dropped down onto his stomach. He told himself it was to avoid the shots that were coming his way. But he felt the way his heart hammered in his chest like it was going to burst through. And he swallowed down the sick that was in his throat.

Lance felt his breathing get all caught up in his chest. His hands were shaking hard. He rolled into his back and tried to get a hold of himself.

He could hear Shiro’s voice in his ear, but couldn’t find the breath to respond.

Staring up at the hangar ceiling he tried to pretend that he wasn’t in the middle of a fight. He needed to pull himself together. He was fine. The others needed him.

Lance took a few deep breaths, clenched his hands into fists a couple of times and rolled back onto his stomach. He raised his rifle. Someone was giving Hunk a hard time, he could end it quickly.

Lance hadn’t heard the large soldier that had climbed his stack of crates. He was concentrating so hard on quieting his own breathing that he didn’t hear the ragged breaths behind him.

One moment he was lining up his shot and the next he wasn’t.

Pain exploded from his back as his shoulder snapped forward. He was being grabbed by the ankle and dragged backwards. A hit across his face and he tasted blood. Lance couldn’t bring his bayard up, his arm was useless and instead of fighting back, his only good arm went up in a defensive position.

The Galra had some kind of club and it broke and crushed his armor in places. There was pain and pain and Lance couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t do anything. He felt it when his ribs cracked, felt it when his arm was broken and knocked to the side, leaving his head exposed.

He thought he heard the others shouting for him before it all faded away.

At least it had been over quickly.

0-0-0-0

Shiro caught Lance’s body when it was thrown through the air.

He had seen the Galra soldier too late, holding Lance aloft by his neck and then Lance was tossed from the crates.

And Shiro knew he was dead because there was so much blood and he had never seen Lance look that lifeless.

Shiro ran, extended his arms and caught him. Lance’s head lolled sickeningly to the side. There was so much blood dripping down his face. Shiro froze, panic gripped his heart. Please, no no no no.

Hunk took care of the soldier, Hunk took care of all of them.

“Shiro! Shiro! He’s breathing. Look!” Pidge was shaking Shiro’s arm and shouting at him. Shiro’s world came back into focus. He could barely hear Lance drawing in gurgling breaths. He was alive.

“Move! Move! Keith is here!” Pidge was now pulling him and Shiro snapped back into his role.

“Hunk! Let’s go!” He shouted over his shoulder.

Soon they were all crammed aboard Red and Shiro held onto Lance as tightly as he dared. Shiro was reporting back to the castleship in a detached way. Coran was talking to him telling him to go directly to the cryopods. Usually Coran liked to do an assessment before he put someone in a pod, but they didn’t have the time now. Shiro let him know that he understood and then he went silent. Keith was tense, trying to fly as quickly and smoothly as possible. Pidge had curled in on herself, resting her forehead on her knees, trying to breathe evenly. Hunk was left hovering over Lance, speaking quietly to him.

They had nearly arrived when Lance’s unswollen eye fluttered open. His gaze fell on Hunk and he let out a groan.

“Lance?” Hunk asked shakily. Lance coughed in response; blood trickled out of his swollen mouth and down his chin. He shut his eye and groaned again. Hunk was pretty sure his jaw was fractured.

“Just hang on. It’s going to be alright.” Shiro whispered. He didn’t sound like he believed it.

Hunk nodded.

“Yeah, you’re going to be fine.” Hunk didn’t sound so sure either.

0-0-0-0

Lance’s armor was quickly discarded and when the helmet came off, there was so much blood caked into his hair that Shiro couldn’t tell if there was one wound or several. Shiro snapped at them all to step back. Stop. Don’t touch him. Leave if you have to.

Coran didn’t even stop to inspect any of Lance’s wounds. They just shoved him in a pod as quickly as possible.

“Are we in time?” Shiro finally asked. Coran didn’t say anything. The silence frightened Shiro more than anything he could have told him. Shiro looked behind him; he saw the others in various states of panic and fear.

Keith was pacing away from the others. Shiro guessed that he had found a way to blame himself, though he didn’t know how.

Pidge and Hunk were standing close to each other. Hunk kept wiping away tears and Pidge was fighting hard to keep it together. She was squeezing Hunk’s hands so hard that her fingernails were leaving indents in his skin. Hunk didn’t seem to notice.

Keith felt bad because it took him too long to evacuate them. Shiro sighed when the thought clicked into place.

“Keith, take the others and step out.”

“I don’t want to go,” Pidge spoke up.

“Shiro… no,” Hunk mumbled. “I’m not leaving.”

Keith gave Shiro a desperate look, he didn’t want to be in charge of them and he wasn’t going to make them leave.

“Alright, alright. Keith, can you go and get some water for everyone then?”

Keith nodded and walked quickly from the room.

Shiro let out several deep breaths and looked back at Coran. Coran finally looked up from the computer and met Shiro’s eyes. He gave a small nod and then cleared his throat.

“It looks like he’s going to be alright.”

The room gave a collective sigh of relief.

“It’s going to be a few days though. You’re welcome to stay as long as you all want.”

Over the next few hours, everything they would need was brought into the cryopod room. First it was just water and some food, because Shiro insisted they eat something, then there were blankets and pillows being brought in by Allura and they were soon camping out in front of the pod. They were sure to leave room for Coran to get to the controls and do anything that he needed to.  

Coran and Allura both stepped away, giving the paladins space and time. Keith had stayed for a while, but then he walked out as everyone was settling down to try and sleep. Shiro followed him, they heard him call Keith’s name before the door shut behind him.

Left alone in the quiet dark, with only the glow of Lance’s pod lighting up the room, Pidge shuffled over closer to Hunk until their arms pressed together.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Pidge asked.

“Coran said he would be.”

“He didn’t sound sure.”

“We just have to hope for the best then.”

Pidge nodded, leaning her cheek into Hunk’s shoulder.

Neither of them slept well that night.

0-0-0-0-0-0

Keith was distant for days and it didn’t matter how much Shiro told him that he wasn’t to blame.

“It happened right before I got there. If I had been faster he wouldn’t have gotten hurt at all,” Keith finally told him.

"Keith, it’s not your fault… it’s a war.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

They hadn’t been able to work through it. Shiro hoped that once Lance was out of the pod, morale would go up again.

That’s not what happened though.

When Lance finally woke up, he was disoriented and he didn’t seem to understand what was going on. His head had healed, but his hair hadn’t grown back yet, leaving a crooked bald spot that spiderwebbed out from a large patch above his ear.  

Coran was asking if he knew where he was, but Lance’s face screwed up and he began crying. Hunk grabbed him when his legs crumbled beneath him and held him tightly. He was trying to tell him it was okay, but while Lance leaned into the touch, he didn’t seem to be aware of his surroundings.

“Sometimes that happens. It’s not unusual with a head injury.” Coran was trying to console them.

“Is it permanent?” Shiro asked as calmly as he could.

“Just give him some time. Wait.”

Coran hadn’t said that it was temporary or not. After Lance sobbed hard for several minutes, he took a great gasping breath and abruptly stopped.

“Hunk?” Lance asked shakily.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“What happened? What’s going on?” Lance looked around the room at all the faces peering at him. It made him uneasy.

“You got hurt, man.”

“I did?”

“You don’t remember?” Shiro asked.

“I don’t know.” Lance wrinkled his nose. “My head hurts.”

“That’s normal,” Coran assured them all. “It should pass.”

They managed to get Lance back to his room to rest without any trouble. The next issue didn’t arise until Lance caught sight of himself in the mirror. He had been using the restroom when he looked in the mirror and saw the bald patches and lines in his hair. He reached out his fingers and touched the mirror. Then he slowly put one hand to his head and ran his fingers over the healed wounds over and over again. Hunk had to physically drag him away from the bathroom and tell him to just go back to bed.

“It will grow back,” Hunk tried to console him.

“Looks awful.” Lance lamented.

“Hey, it’s going to be fine. It will grow back.”

Lance refused to walk around the castleship without his jacket on and his hood up after that.

More concerning was the way Lance was refusing to talk to any of them. They would ask him a question and he would just stare blankly at them.

“Is it brain damage?” And Shiro wanted to throw up at the words.

“There is no lasting damage that I can see. But brains are tricky. Even after they heal, they may not work exactly the same way. It might be something else too.” Coran spoke softly. “Has he said anything about the day he was attacked?”

“You think it’s psychological. You think it’s PTSD.” Shiro crossed his arms in concentration. It made sense.

“Is that what humans call it?” Coran asked quietly. The Altean sighed. “I think he has had a painful experience and he needs time. Unfortunately, we don’t have the time he needs. He will have to fight again.”

“He doesn’t like training. Won’t even look at his bayard.”

“He won’t listen to me, but maybe he will talk to you. Try talking to him first and then he may be able to start recovering.”

Shiro uncrossed his arms and nodded.

He had to fix it. He needed to fix it. For everyone’s sakes.

0-0-0-0-0

Shiro didn’t have to wait long for an opportunity to speak to Lance. That evening, when they all sat down to dinner, Lance didn’t show up.

Hunk had started to stand to go check on him, but Shiro waved his hand at him.

“Let me try,” Shiro rose from his chair and walked briskly out the door.

Shiro found Lance curled up on his bed with his jacket on. The hood had slipped off his head and Shiro could see the missing patch of hair that Lance hated so much.

“Lance,” Shiro called softly. Lance’s eyes opened but he didn’t say anything.

“Your hair looks better. It’s growing in.”

It wasn’t the right thing to say.

Lance pulled the hood back over his head sharply.

“Hey, do you want to try coming to eat? Or I could bring food here?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Still, you should eat, buddy.”

There was a long pause while Shiro decided how to approach the topic.

"Lance,” Shiro sat down on the edge of the bed. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

Lance curiously turned his head slightly and looked at Shiro, surprised at the subject change.

“What is it?”

“Can you talk to Keith for me?”

“Talk to… Keith?”

“Yeah, he’s been upset lately. He feels bad that you got… hurt. He thinks it’s his fault.”

Lance sat up slowly to face Shiro.

“It’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

There it was.

“How is it your fault?” Shiro asked carefully. Lance opened and closed his mouth several times and then he cast his eyes down towards the mattress.

“Lance?”

“I froze up. I freaked out. I wasn’t paying attention. It was my fault.”

“You froze? Do you know why?”

Lance shook his head and then grabbed the edge of his hood to make sure that it hadn’t fallen down.

“Look, I’m not going to be mad at you. I want you to be okay.”

“There was this Galra soldier…” Lance pulled absently at a loose thread on his blanket. “He hesitated, he looked scared.”

Shiro nodded to let Lance know he was listening.

“I killed him.” Lance slowly brought his knees up and buried his face there. “He would have killed Pidge if I didn’t.”

“Lance, Lance, you were doing it to protect Pidge, to protect us.”

“But… maybe he was protecting someone too. Maybe I had already killed someone he cared about.”

Shiro moved to sit beside Lance. He gently wrapped one arm around Lance’s shoulder.

“Lance, I am sorry. I’m so sorry. I know it’s not easy.”

“Then I got hurt and everything feels so far away and… broken now.”

“It’s going to be okay.”

“It’s not though. It’s not going to be okay. It’s a war, Shiro.” Lance had started crying and he moved his hand to his mouth to try to smother it.

“Listen, I know it won’t be the same ever again. I know, but you just find reasons to keep going. Keep moving.”

Lance let out a choked sob.

“Look, if you want to step away for awhile, we’ll figure something out.”

“No,” Lance’s head shot up. “I want to help. I want to fly Blue.”

“In that case, you need to talk to us. Don’t shut us out. We can’t help you if you shut us out. And you don’t have to talk to me. You could talk to Hunk or Coran or any of us.”

Lance was nodding and Shiro rubbed his arm encouragingly.

“It’s better to talk about it then keep it all inside.”

Lance wiped at the tears that had dripped down his face. He brushed his sleeve across his nose and sniffled loudly.

“My hair looks s-st-stupid.” Lance began crying hard and he buried his face into Shiro’s shoulder. Shiro smiled sadly. It must have seemed so silly, but it had bothered him so much and was such a horrible reminder of what had happened.

“No, it’s fine.” Shiro wrapped his other arm around Lance and hugged him tight.

It wasn’t long before Lance was telling Shiro everything, all the details about the reluctant soldier to the anxiety attack he had in the middle of the battle to getting attacked and being so scared and helpless.

“What if I freak out and I can’t fight and someone else gets hurt. It will be my fault.”

“Hey, even if that did happen, it wouldn’t be your fault.”

Lance was shaking his head.

“No, listen. I know you would never let anyone hurt us if you could stop it.”

“My head hurts,” Lance scrubbed at his eyes. He then allowed himself to collapse into Shiro’s shoulder and take several shuddering breaths.

“It will get better,” Shiro mumbled into the cloth of his hood. “Little by little. It’s going to be okay.”

Shiro hoped that he wasn’t lying. Lance was so strong, Shiro knew that, together, they could get through this.

0-0-0-0-0

The next morning, Lance showed up to breakfast with his hood down. At the end of the meal, he pulled it over his head again, but nobody said anything about it either way. One step at a time. Shiro thought as he smiled hopefully at Lance.

0-0-0-0-0

Lance found Keith training in the early morning. He stood by and waited for Keith to finish his round before he called out to him.

“What is it, Lance?” Keith asked as he approached the other boy. Lance hunched his shoulders at first and looked like he might have changed his mind about approaching Keith.

“You alright?” Keith asked with a raised eyebrow. Lance slowly pulled the hood off his head. Keith’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’m alright… I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”

“Yeah. Of course, what is it?”

0-0-0-0-0

“Are you sure about this?”

“Well, I figure, even if you mess it up, it can’t look worse than yours.”

Coran had let them borrow some hair clippers and Lance was sitting in a chair in the middle of one of the lounge areas with a blanket around his shoulders.

“How short?”

“Just shorter, make it look more even.”

“It’s not going to be even unless I shave it.”

“No, don’t make me bald! Just trim it.”

“Alright.” After a moment of hesitation, Keith started clipping away. Lance watched his hair fall onto his chest and shoulders.

They were both quiet for a moment before Keith spoke up.

“Why me? Why didn’t you ask Hunk or Shiro to do this?”

Lance thought about it.

“Hunk would worry too much and I don’t know if Shiro could hold clippers with a metal hand, he might slip up.”

“What about Pidge?”

“I figured Pidge wouldn’t be able to reach.”

Keith actually let out a huff of laughter.

“Alright.”

They fell into a comfortable silence.

“Keith?”

Keith hummed in response.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?”

Keith hesitated before he continued trimming.

“Shiro says it’s not my fault, so if that’s true, there’s no way it’s your fault either,” Lance insisted.

Keith didn’t say anything.

“Keith?”

“Yeah, alright. I get it. Fine.”

A while later, the trimming stopped and Keith went silent.

“Done?” Lance asked.

“Yeah.”

Lance was up quickly and carrying the blanket away to throw into the laundry.

“It’s still… um short on the side.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not going to be perfect.”

“Yeah, guess not.”

Lance walked around with his hood down after that. He still winced when he caught sight of himself in the mirror, but he refused to hide it anymore.

He was going to heal from this.

0-0-0-0

Weeks went by and Lance was slowly starting to open up again. He had a few nightmares and would end up in Hunk or Pidge’s room during the night. But everybody was really patient with him.

The next time they were on a mission, Shiro didn’t ask him to separate and be a sniper. He stayed close to them, only taking down a few targets when it was absolutely necessary. Lance was still anxious over even holding his bayard again. He started breathing too quickly and Shiro was relieved when they were able to get back to their lions instead of fighting on the ground.

After they were back at the castleship, Shiro found Lance fighting back tears in his room.

“If I’m not the sharpshooter… I’m not anything,” Lance started crying. Shiro sat with Lance for a long time and just listened. Sometimes all he could do was listen and try to encourage the younger boy. Sometimes it never seemed like enough.

“Brains are tricky,” Coran told Shiro. “He may not ever go back to the way things were. He’s had a bad trauma.”

It would be several more weeks until Lance had to play the role as a sniper again. Pidge was watching his back, staying close the entire time. She stood with him on the edge of a cliff and made sure that nobody got near him. Down below, the battle raged and Lance felt guilty for keeping Pidge from it.

Lance’s shots weren’t as accurate, some of them were going wide and that was probably because his hands were shaking so hard.

It was taking two to three shots to bring down some of the soldiers. It wasn’t quick.

Lance’s breathing speed up, his lungs wouldn’t take in anymore air.

“Lance,” Pidge knelt by his side. “Keith never looks over his shoulder, he’s got someone coming up behind him.” Lance shifted, aimed, there was no time to panic, fired…

One more dead soldier and Keith was safe. Lance took in big gulps of air and he let the gun fall to the side.

Pidge sat a hand on his back.

“Just breathe. You’re okay. You did well.”

“Thank you,” Lance said after he had been breathing for several minutes.

“You’re kind of amazing, did you know that?”

Lance was startled by the compliment. Pidge wasn’t usually so open about that kind of thing.

“I messed up a lot…”

“I’ve been watching you save everyone. I just saw you save Keith. You’re amazing.”

Lance nodded. It wasn’t like he enjoyed killing soldiers, he just wanted to protect his team.

“You’re very brave, Lance.”

Lance wanted to tell her she was wrong, but Pidge was looking at him with such a genuine expression that Lance couldn’t argue. He could only nod in response.

When they made it back to the castleship, Shiro pulled Lance into a sideways hug.

“You’re alright?” Shiro asked.

“I’ll be okay,” Lance answered honestly. Shiro smiled at him and Lance returned it. The war was taking a lot of things from them, but they were going to survive it. Shiro was sure of it.

Lance removed his helmet and wiped sweat from his brow. His hair was still too short, but the bare spot that was the result from his head injury had completely grown in.

You couldn’t even see it anymore.

The end.