#face gas mask filter

[turonzamin]

Ifak Trauma Kit, 74 Piece Upgrade Tactical First Aid Supplies, Molle Ifak Pouch Rip Away Refill Supplies for Survival Camping Hiking Travel (Black)

Price: (as of – Details) From the brand TACTICAL MOLLE IFAK POUCH TACTICAL MOLLE POUCH CAR SEAT ORGANIZER TACTICAL IFAK KIT TACTICAL TOURNIQUET IFAK KIT MOLLE POUCH BAG DOG & DUMP & SLING BAG Package Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 9.69 x 7.48 x 4.21 inches; 1.1 Pounds Date First Available ‏ : ‎ July 18, 2021 Manufacturer ‏ : ‎ VIIDOO ASIN ‏ : ‎ B099RVLD5H ☺PRACTICAL FIRST AID KIT CAMPING: Our first aid…

[beastwars-transformers]

Brotherhood of steel virgins stay mad the Enclave remains the most stylin’ of them all

[miss-floral-thief]

Oof strong scent here too bad I don’t have an allergy pill

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny Pt.9

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.10]

"Fan-sea meeting you here. You must be Phantom!"

Danny slowly turned around, grin blinding. "I shore am. Who's asking?"

Danny knew exactly who was asking. Bludhaven's vigilante, Nightwing. If the giant dark blue bird emblazoned on the front of his suit didn't give it away, the friendly demeanor and the puns would have. Plus, now that Danny's figured out who Tim was, the rest were pretty simple dots to be connected.

"Hi. I'm Nightwing. Thanks for saving Batman."

"I am Phantom. You are welcome. Please lecture him on the necessity of keeping the waters clean."

"Uh, I think he knows," Nightwing grinned. “So, why are you cleaning Gotham’s bay? I heard the Atlantic is nice this time of year.”

“Exactly. This?” Danny flapped a gloved hand around them, specifically at the moldy docks and the paint scraped board. “This is not nice. If it were nice, I wouldn’t need to be cleaning it. Look at that paint! It’s flaking off into the water! Does Gotham not have proper boat maintainance? That’s dangerous for the waters and seafarers!”

“Woah, you know a lot about boats,” Nightwing commented, crossing his arms and leaning back. What the hero didn’t know was that he knew more about boats than Danny did, as Danny’s hyper fixation was more focused on space ships and Dick had education à la maison de Bruce Wayne which usually meant an absurd amount of information for someone who doesn’t actually use boats as a regular mode of transportation.

“Rust! Rust is very much a thing!” Danny ranted, using his ice to scoop up water and using it like a makeshift filter. “It weakens bonds! It’s a tetanus hazard! And oh, don’t even get me started on how you people mutated the ocean life!”

“Mutated ocean life? I’m pretty sure we hadn’t. It’s just a little weird, right?”

Without another word, Danny dove into the weird ecosystem that was the Gotham bay. He came back holding a wriggling green thing the size of a worm.

“Do you know what this is?” Danny demanded. The thing flopped around on his gloved hands.

“A sea monkey?”

“They’re brine shrimp. Brine. Shrimp. Do you know what regular brine shrimp look like???” Danny shoved the thing at Nightwing, who took a step back.

“Not like that?” He replied, a quizzical look on his face.

“No, not like that! What in the ancients is this?!” Danny waved the weird sea brine that had started glowing faintly, like Danny’s natural ectoplasm glow. “Far be it from me of all people to judge evolution but this was all man made!” Danny gently tossed the brine shrimp back into the bay. “Brine shrimp is staple food for the ocean! You’ve got weird brine shrimp? You’ve got weird fish! Why is it impossible for this place to, for even one day, refrain from dumping hazardous chemicals or dead bodies in the water?”

“Ooookay, how about we take a breather?” Nightwing quickly glanced around, trying to find something to change the subject, feeling oddly guilty at the earnest expression on the kid’s face. “Uh, I was actually wondering if you’d swing by the waters near Blüd?”

Danny crossed his arms. “I clean the waters as a past time because you humans don’t know how to keep it clean. I am not a personal, on call, seakeeper.”

“Batman will pay you for your time,” Dick offered. Danny straightened. Amity didn’t actually cost that much to live well, but Gotham was a whole other ball park. The rent might be dirt cheap for a city, but the special pricey little add ons such as gas masks and space level insulation on top of the sky high insurance policies were draining what’s left of his half dead soul. As they say, Danny was a city dweller first and Phantom second.

“How much, when, and I won’t fish up the bodies unless he pays me extra.”

“Four thousand base pay, extra one hundred per identity, fifty for bodies with no shades, and on the weekends.”

Danny straightened as his mother’s steel spine, Jazz’s whip sharp wit, and his own craftiness made their appearance as he bargained. “Five thousand. Rate agreed, but I can only do every other weekends and I’ll have to call out some days.”

“Okay.” Nightwing rocked back on his heels with an affable smile. It’s Bruce’s money and it’s going towards his probable future baby brother, after all, even if said baby brother is a dead immortal Atlantis founder. Or something.

Danny groaned. “You are supposed to bargain back. But I’ll take it.”

“Great! Who do we got tonight?” Nightwing looked down at the plastic/burlap wrapped person Danny dragged onto the shores a bit ago.

“The lake kept the body cold, so it should be preserved adequately if you want to examine him,” Danny tilted his head to the side, the flames of his hair tilting with him. “He said his name is Gorganzo Bean.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It’s a nickname he got for eating a whole can of beans straight.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it. Any more details?”

“Sure.”

When Danny reached to take the money from Nightwing, he found that the hero had tightened his grip on it.

Danny pointedly dropped his gaze from Nightwing’s face to the money.

“Wait. I- I heard from a source that you could possibly smell souls.”

Danny yanked the cash out of Nightwing’s hand and shoved it into his shoulder. If that didn’t confirm Nightwing’s identity, he doesn’t know what would other than the guy telling Danny who he was. “You’ve been speaking with Danny. Yes, I can.”

“Can you tell what’s wrong with my brother?” Nightwing blurted out.

Danny stared at him, his legs flickering in and out to his tail form. “…Other than dressing in probably leather or Kevlar and going out to beat criminals with his bare hands?”

Nightwing opened and closed his mouth. He coughed awkwardly. “Other than that. Why is he- um, stinky? Soul-wise,” Nightwing added, clearly humoring the tinny little voice at the base of his temples that was an annoyed Red Hood saying that he showered. “He showers often. And is definitely not stinky body odor wise.”

“I am not a doctor. Well, not now anyways,” Danny said, thinking about his future PhD. “But he’s got a… soul infection. His natural immunity- all souls have a natural immunity against regular outside influences- is working hard to repel the equivalence of chronic bronchitis.”

“There’s… no way to help him?”

“I never said that,” Danny tilted his head. “Bring your brother to meet Danny. He could probably handle it.”

“The civilian?”

“His parents hunted my kind, once. He helped protect me and my people. If anyone knows how to cure it, it would be him.”

Phantom could not afford to deal with this right now, because Danny had a presentation tomorrow that he needed to finish.

“Oh. Thank you, Phantom.” Nightwing said, looking relieved and pensive. Danny decided right then and there that was Future Danny’s problem.

Danny nodded distractedly, blinking out.

He blinked back in. Nightwing jerked back. “Do you happen to have any examples of corrupt politicians in Gotham?”

Nightwing blinked before laughing. “It’d probably be easier to name the ones that aren’t.”

“Good to know. Thank you!”

——

A couple of days later, Tim and two older guys ambushed him in the quad.

“Hi! I’m Dick! This is my brother Jason! We’re Tim’s older brothers!”

Danny looked down at his hand- trapped in an overexcited handshake- and back up at Dick.

Whatever expression he was making, it must have been ha-fucking-larious because Tim and Jason burst out into laughter. Danny cursed his past self.

“Yeah?” Danny blinked. Wait. His smile grew and he made a face like he just realized something. “Oh. So you’re Nightwing?”

The laughter cut off.

“Haha, what?”

“Phantom told me you’d be coming but I, uh, thought you’d be in gear. Not… straight up telling me who you are?”

“You’re in regular contact with Phantom?” Tim demanded.

“Yeah, dude. After you- wait, you’re Red Robin!” Danny whispered.

“Oh shit, B’s gonna be pissed,” Jason drawled, looking mildly amused and hiding an extremely cautious, possibly lethal (if it weren’t for the fact that Danny’s pretty much impossible to kill with regular weapons) reaction.

“You’re one to talk. I’d smell your soul no matter what your disguise was.”

“…About that.”

——

You might be wondering: wouldn’t Dick know not to show up in civvies?

Yes. Except for the fact that Tim stalked Danny for weeks after he met Phantom and Danny hadn’t hung out with (himself) at all. They think Danny doesn’t know Phantom well enough to even talk to him much, despite being from the same town because: they’re all big city kids and have never experienced small town solidarity and, more importantly, gossip grapevines + they have no idea these two are the same people.

A deleted scene:

“When did you have time to talk to Phantom?” Tim demanded. Jason nudged Tim. That had hinted too much at what Tim was doing on his off hours and stalking was usually frowned upon.

“When I wasn’t talking to you, duh.”

[please-destroy]

No Matter What

Pregnant!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 3k

.

You hadn’t been given enough time. You lay flat to the ground as the explosions around you continued with an unrelenting pace.

You couldn’t move. The hot trickle of blood running down your calf told you enough. You’d been watching the thick white cloud of gas roll slowly towards you, and now it was here.

You could feel the cool moisture as it cloaked your bare ankles, beginning to envelope you.

You continued trying to inch your phone out of your pocket, twisting yourself awkwardly with the action. 

The part of you that was still clinging to hope needed her desperately. All you wanted was to hear Wanda’s voice telling you it would be okay. 

You couldn’t let yourself think about the baby. You didn’t think losing your future would hurt like this. You didn’t expect to feel such grief when you were the one dying.

It felt like fingernails raking along your throat when you choked on the realisation that you’d never see the baby. You’d never know if they really did have Wanda’s eyes. Your chest went tight with the hope that they did. 

You brought your phone level to your face, wincing at the brightness. 

One text, Wanda.

‘Stay safe, check in when you can, we miss you.’

You dropped the phone and closed your eyes. The clouded air smelled sweet, you could taste aniseed. You couldn’t call her, you were out of time.

You hoped the baby had Wanda’s smile too. Selfishly, now, you hoped that little pieces of you would be in there too. That people would still talk about you. You didn’t want to be another ghost, another unspeakable shadow that haunted the corner of Wanda’s eye.

You slipped into delirium a moment later and unconsciousness a minute after that.

.

You had plenty to live for, but when you heard your name being called you still didn’t want to wake up.

Your eyes shuttered open and you gasped out a breath like it was your first. You’d been moved, the gas was gone, the air seemed clean.

It took a moment to recognise the inside of the helicarrier. Even longer to understand it was Natasha who was underneath the industrial gas mask. 

You lost control of your panic, hyperventilating at the shock of her appearance. The rattling sound of her gas mask filtering the air was unsettling. It also meant there was still danger. Your hand went to your throat in confusion. Why weren’t you wearing one too?

‘You’ve been infected.’ Natasha called, staying carefully away from you in the med bay. ‘We think it's hallucinogenic, your pupils are blown wide.’

As if Natasha's words were a premonition, the world around her started to tilt. The edges of her figure started to blur and merge with the background. You tried not to fall back on the stretcher as the dizziness hit.

‘Wanda.’ You huffed out, fighting against the heaviness dragging you back under. You tried to find Natasha’s eyes behind the dark tinted glass of the helmet. Tears pricked your eyes, you could feel yourself slipping away. You were out of time again.

You felt a hand grip your arm at the last moment.

‘No matter what.’ Natasha’s voice assured you. It was the promise she’d made you a long time ago, Wanda would always be kept safe.

.

The next time you woke up, you were in a small room. The walls were concrete, the floor was concrete, the door was metal. 

You crawled to the corner, trying to remember if you’d been captured. Your mind felt heavy, thoughts blurring together.

Then, you heard her. 

A high pitched scream slid through the crack under the door, you flew against the wall at the shock of the sudden noise.

You lurched forward as you recognised it, stumbling to your feet. Your hands found the door handle. 

The scream came again, louder this time.

‘Wanda.’ You cried out, trying desperately at the door. It wouldn’t budge. Her screams sounded mangled now, choking off into sobs. 

Where was she? What were they doing to her?

You remembered nothing else as you slammed your shoulder against the door, shouting out your wife’s name.

The screams got louder and consequent images flashed through your mind. They were torturing her. The worst thoughts filled your mind. You were sure you could smell blood. Wanda must be close. You shouted again, slamming yourself desperately into the door.

Then, Wanda screamed your name and something inside you stopped responding. A feral panic made you more animal than human. 

You were going to have to get through concrete. Your fingernails scraped down the walls, the only thought driving you was that Wanda was on the other side. She wouldn’t stop screaming.

The disorientation was overwhelming, you lost yourself completely in the haze of her ceaseless screams.

Eventually you came to, seeing the bloody tracks already scraped into the wall. You knew it must have been you, but you couldn’t remember.

.

Natasha’s voice echoed suddenly into the room. Your head spun as you sought her out wildly. The room was still empty.

‘Wanda.’ You choked out, tears immediately flooding your cheeks in relief that someone could help. You couldn’t focus on what she was saying. 

‘You need to get Wanda, please Nat, please. They’re hurting her.’

Wanda’s screams began again, echoing off the walls and ricocheting around your mind. Your nails scratched your scalp as you fell to your knees.

You heard Natasha’s voice again, muffled and distorted like she was somewhere underwater.

‘Why are you still here?’ You screamed at the door. ‘Why aren’t you helping her?’ 

You buried your head in your hands, muffling another scream that bubbled out of you.

Confusion turned to rage and you seethed at Natasha’s continued unmoving presence behind the door. You hated your own uselessness. 

‘What about the baby?’ You shouted again, hearing the desperate edge plaguing your own voice. ‘Please Nat, please, she’s pregnant. They’re gonna kill her.’

You broke off into a cry at the words. You couldn’t hear anything but the neverending screams. 

You curled yourself against the wall, shakes wracking your body. You wondered how you could ever have feared death for yourself. 

Now Wanda was dying, she was being murdered. You’d never see your baby. The last piece of her was going to die along with her. You couldn’t fix it.

Your screams mixed with Wanda’s and you felt the emptiness slam into your own chest, like your baby was dying inside of you instead.

You wanted to die. You wanted it all to be over. There wasn’t anything else.

Wanda’s screams quietened and you sat, taut with the tension of waiting desperately to hear her and also dreading her voice.

Were they letting her rest, or was she finally dead?

Your heart beat stuttered erratically as you waited for some noise. Time dragged hellishly. Now, the silence was the worst of all. 

You drew your knees up to your chest, burying your face against them. You started to sob, some animalistic moan building in your chest at the inexpressible pain.

No future. No baby. No Wanda. 

Would there even be bodies to bury? You choked on the thought, and you heard your cries like they were someone else's.

.

Natasha’s voice echoed into the room once again. You froze at the sensation, looking around desperately for her figure. A grim hope flared in your chest once again. Natasha could still get you out, even if she wouldn’t help Wanda and the baby.

Once you were out of this room, you could get to them. You could still try.

‘(Y/N?)’ You recognised your name in Natasha’s voice, she sounded panicked. 

You lifted your head fully to lean against the wall, waiting for her to tell you the news you didn’t know how to hear. You were too late.

‘Wanda’s okay. She’s okay. Remember? No matter what.’

Your eyes closed at Natasha’s words, somehow, inherently, you trusted them.

‘No matter what.’ You rasped out, throat wrecked from your own screams. You heard Natasha’s message. There was still hope, this was still part of the mission.

As if called upon by Natasha’s words, Wanda’s voice returned again. 

Now, you heard the soft scared whimpers that you’d only heard before when you’d held her through the worst of nightmares.

‘Why is she still crying?’ You moaned out desperately, confusion clawing at you.

‘Your mind is playing tricks.’ Natasha told you again.

Wanda started begging. Begging for the baby, begging for you. You heard her desperate pleads and bile rose in your throat.

Natasha was lying. There was no way that your mind could invent this. 

You lay against the cold concrete floor, wishing you had been killed in one of the explosions.

They were still hurting her. You could picture the sharp knife from the way she whimpered quietly. She’d always been scared of knives. 

Tears rolled down your cheeks. You closed your eyes, desperate for unconsciousness.

You no longer had any concept of time. You only opened your eyes when you next registered a change in Wanda’s voice.

She was calling your name. It was soft like air. Your head flew up from its place on the floor and you turned disorientedly to find her. Before you could scramble to your feet, you registered her voice.

‘(Y/N) loves you.’ Wanda’s voice came softly into the room. You were sure the sound was sneaking in with the bright cracks of light surrounding the door. You inched closer, wanting to be near her more than anything in the world.

‘Even when I’m not here. (Y/N) is going to love you extra just for me.’

Your stomach rolled as you realised who Wanda was saying goodbye to. Misery pinned you to the floor. You stared upwards, unable to do anything but listen, as Wanda comforted the baby she knew she’d never see. 

Tears flooded down your cheeks and numbness started to creep in.

Time dragged on. You stayed close to the crack of light by the door. Your hand trailed the concrete wall miserably, wishing you could touch her skin instead.

Wanda was crying to herself somewhere nearby. You didn’t want her to be alone. Why didn’t she know you were here and that you loved her? Screams choked and died in your throat, knowing they’d be as useless as the ones you’d made before.

The worst part of their torture was the monotony of it all. You didn’t know how many times they brought Wanda to the edge of death, until her screams were uncontrolled and her desperate cries for you filled up the awful tiny room. But, every time they stopped, the only real certainty was that they’d start again.

You thought you might have slept, but time moved differently now. Your dreams seemed like reality and the two felt increasingly indistinguishable. You only stopped crying as the thirst began to kick in.

.

Eventually, small pieces of reality started to trickle back in. Thick white gas and metal faces swam abstractly in your mind. You clung to these thoughts hoping there’d be some clue in them to lead you to Wanda.

It took forever until you remembered Natasha’s words on the helicarrier.

Knowing that you were hallucinating didn’t help as much as you’d hoped. You knew it wasn’t really Wanda now. 

Still, the cries sounded real. Image after image of her lying dead just behind the metal door attacked your mind.

You couldn’t trust that she and the baby were safe. 

You tried to block out her voice, begging again for you to be spared.

You’d have thrown up. But, you hadn’t eaten either. Thirst parched you and your stomach felt hollow. You kept staring at the ceiling. 

You started hearing the desperate wails of an infant and you closed your eyes again. Waves of agony rolled through you at the sound and the urgent need to find your child. 

Wanda’s baby was screaming and that meant she was gone.

You started to cry again.

.

The bolt of the door scraped open slowly and, at first, you were sure it was another hallucination. You could see Natasha’s face this time.

Her hand extended out with a water bottle in it. Her eyes stared deep into yours.

‘Wanda is okay.’ She said clearly. ‘Do you understand?’ You tried to nod as new sobs of relief flooded through you. You believed her. You started to rock yourself again. 

Natasha crouched down next to you, one hand on your knee.

‘Quarantine is over.’ She told you succinctly, forcing the water bottle into your hand until you took it, obediently starting to drink. You emptied it in a few gulps, your thirst reminded you of the eternity you’d spent in here.

‘How long?’ You croaked out. 

‘Two days. We told her the mission got extended.’ Natasha’s tone told you how little she’s enjoyed keeping your pact.

‘She doesn’t know?’ You checked.

‘She’s not here.’ Natasha told you, as if this was answer enough.

You tried to speak again, but your throat closed up.

‘You can see her now.’ Natasha said simply, taking your hand and pulling you to your very shaky feet. You used her hand as a crutch as you moved gingerly towards the door. 

The corridor outside was unfamiliar, but you knew it was the Avengers Medical Wing from the logo on the wall. First you entered a small room, a fresh set of clothes lay folded. A bathroom stood off to the side. Natasha waited outside the door as you hurried through the tasks.

Soon, you shuffled through to a generic waiting room. Clint sat on one of the uncomfortable seats, head in his hands as he stared at the ground. He looked up as soon as he heard you coming.

‘Fuck. You look like shit.’ His eyes tracked your face worriedly. You didn’t have the energy for a comeback. You kept moving forward, turning your head only as you passed him.

‘Thank you.’ You told him. Clint glowered, knowing you meant keeping Wanda in the dark. He left quickly, kicking over a chair as he left the room. You understood why he couldn’t say ‘You’re welcome’.

Natasha’s arm moved tentatively around your shoulders but she didn’t make you slow your pace. You moved to the elevator, pressing the button for the floor you shared with Wanda.

You ached at how close she’s been the whole time.

‘And she’s fine?’ You checked again.

Wordlessly, Natasha handed you over your phone. The battery was nearly dead, but you saw the list of texts and calls. Wanda was safe, but she knew something was up. You swallowed nervously.

The doors opened onto your floor and you moved forward to the last door between you and Wanda. 

Natasha stayed in the elevator.

‘Thank you.’ You remembered before the elevator doors closed. Natasha just nodded once, and her eyes filled with a rush of worry you’d never seen before.

‘No matter what.’ She muttered. And you nodded. She didn’t know yet, but she was going to be a godmother soon.

.

You turned back to let yourself into the apartment. Your hand was shaking as you gripped the door handle. That recurring image of Wanda lying bleeding on the floor flitted through your mind.

You opened the door, fearing your worst nightmare. You held your breath.

Your first and only thought when you saw her, was that she was safe.

Wanda was sleeping in a chair, somehow sitting half upright. It looked uncomfortable. If her eyes had been open she’d have seen you enter, obviously having fallen asleep facing the door.

Not dead. Not dead. Not dead. 

Your mind chanted the only thing you’d prayed for in the last two days.

You moved wordlessly into the room, only knowing you wanted to touch her. To feel her warm and pressed against you.

Your hand grazed her arm softly. Wanda’s eyes opened instantly at the touch. She gave a small gasp at the sight of you.

‘I’m back.’ You said unnecessarily, trying to remember how to smile.

Wanda’s hand flew to her mouth, muffling a sob. Her cries were horrifyingly familiar to you. You knelt in front of her, trying to block out the sound automatically. Your hands gripped her thighs and your lips touched her belly, pressing a kiss there. 

You tried to remind yourself of reality.

Wanda’s hands gripped your shoulders, and you looked back up to her teary face.

‘Thank God.’ She mumbled, shifting forward in her seat. You rose to stand as she did the same, catching her in an embrace as she fell into your arms.

‘They wouldn’t tell me anything.’ She mumbled into your shirt.

 ‘Oh God, I thought they didn’t know how to tell me -.’ Wanda’s words trailed off into another round of sobs. 

You focused on the feeling of having her in your arms.

‘It was just a mission that ran long.’ You soothed, feeling her hot damp tears soak through your shirt. Wanda’s fingers clung to your shirt. 

‘You didn’t text me back.’ She whimpered. The aching familiarity of the sound reminded you all over again.

‘I wanted to.’ You promised, tears starting to run again down your own cheeks.

‘Are you okay?’ You had to ask, the fear of everything still eating you up inside. ‘And the baby?’

Wanda moved back in your hold, eyes searching yours. 

‘We’re fine.’ She whispered to you softly and you saw the tear tracks staining her face. ‘All we needed was you.’

You nodded dumbly, swallowing the hot lump in your throat.

Wanda’s fingers slid into your hair and she pulled your face to hers.

Her lips were soft, tasting a little of salt after all the tears. Her warmth was familiar, her touch held you safe.

You were home.

‘I’ll always come back.’ You mumbled a moment later against her lips, knowing now how difficult that promise was. 

‘No matter what.’

[nhaaauyen]

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART IV: TONIGHT, I WALK AWAY

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part II // part III // part V

wc: 7.8k cw: violence, angst, major character death author's note: Honestly I'm starting to get why TWD writers do what they do after writing this chapter... I also apologize for taking so long for this chapter, my classes are starting now so updates will be a bit a slower </3 **also some eastereggs but the sonnet 73 quote I have is mentioned in the scene where Grayson talks about love. It's pretty much the translated modern English definition of the quote! The make a wish dialogue is also from the movie Dangerously Yours (1937), that scene always gets me so I had to include it haha

You drift in and out of consciousness, the world around you a hazy blur of pain and disjointed voices. Through the fog, you catch glimpses of three figures engaged in intense discussion.

Sevika's there, her face etched with worry. Beside her stands a tall, bald gaunt man and a mask covering the lower half of his face. His eyes are sunken, giving him an almost skeletal appearance. The third figure is shorter, with slicked-back dark hair and a prominent scar running down one side of his face, his right eye a striking shade of green.

Their voices filter through your muddled thoughts:

"...low on medical supplies for a procedure like this," the masked man says, his voice muffled and clinical. "There's no sure chance she can make it."

"I'll go to the hospital."

"It’s too dangerous." The scarred man's voice is sharp and skeptical.

"We've been low on supplies for too long," Sevika argues. "It's time we do it now. We cannot lose any more people."

Their words fade as you slip back into darkness, only to resurface again as you're being moved. You have no idea how much time has passed, but you're on some kind of gurney, the ceiling passing by overhead. You try to move, but your limbs feel heavy and unresponsive. Glancing down, you see your wrists are handcuffed to the sides of the bed.

Panic surges through you as you realize you're being rolled into what looks like a makeshift operating room. The masked man and the scarred one are there, now wearing blood-stained surgical gowns. You try to fight, to call out, but your body won't cooperate.

The scarred man leans over you, his mismatched eyes boring into yours. "It will be over soon," he says, his voice oddly soothing despite the circumstances. Then he's lowering a gas mask over your face, and the world fades to black.

When you wake again, your mind is clearer, though your body feels like it's been run over by a truck. The scarred man is sitting in a chair beside your bed, watching you with an unreadable expression.

"Ah, you're awake," he says, leaning forward. "Good. I was beginning to wonder if we'd miscalculated."

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, raw. He holds up a hand, silencing you.  

"No need to strain yourself. I just wanted to... observe you.” He pauses. "It's been a long time since I've had to perform a procedure like that. It’s quite a reminder of what still lurks beyond these walls. How we’ve grown complacent."

Your eyes drift to his face, lingering on the scar that runs down the right side, bisecting his eye. The eye itself is a startling shade of green, almost luminescent against his pale skin. You must have been staring, because the man chuckles, a dry, humorless sound.

"Curious, aren’t you?" A sardonic smile twists his features. "It’s only natural - people always wonder. But few ever ask. It’s a souvenir from when Zaun was still crawling out of the muck. When men I called brothers tried to drag me back down for a piece of land." 

His finger traces the scar slowly, almost lovingly. "This... this was their parting gift." He trails off, then continues in a near-whisper. "Have you ever felt pain so exquisite it becomes transcendent? For days, I danced on the knife's edge between genius and madness."

His gaze refocuses on you, sharp and penetrating. "But pain, you see, can be transformative. It stripped away my naivety, my weakness. It forged me into something stronger, something capable of truly leading Zaun."

“I think I understand why Sevika is so fond of you." His lips curl into something that might be a smile but doesn't reach his eyes. "There's something in you, just like her. That part that's willing to sacrifice."

You furrow your brow, confusion, and wariness warring inside you.

"Some sacrifices are necessary to be made. But they're also weaknesses," He stands, smoothing down his shirt. "Something to consider."

With those cryptic words, he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. You're left alone, your mind racing with questions. Who were those men? What exactly happened to you? And how much time had gone by?

The weight of uncertainty presses down on you, and exhaustion soon follows. Despite your churning thoughts, your eyelids grow heavy, and you drift into an uneasy sleep.

When you wake again, its by the sound of shuffling feet and the creak of a door opening. The haze of sleep still clings to your mind as you slowly become aware of your surroundings.

Sevika enters, holding a plate of food. Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you speaks.

"Hey," she says finally, her voice softer than you've ever heard it.

"Hey yourself," you reply, unable to keep a slight tremor from your voice.

Sevika sets the plate on your bedside table, then stands awkwardly, as if unsure what to do with her hands. "Thought you might be hungry," she mumbles.

You nod, a thousand questions bubbling up inside you. Where has she been? Why didn't she visit sooner? What happened after the surgery? But looking at her now, seeing the dark circles under her eyes and the way she holds herself - tense, guarded - you decide those questions can wait.

Instead, you pat the bed beside you. "Sit with me?"

Sevika hesitates for a moment, then complies. As she settles beside you, you feel the warmth of her presence, so familiar yet somehow changed.

"I missed you," you say simply.

Sevika's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of emotion crossing her face before she schools it back to neutrality. "I... I'm glad you're okay," she replies, her voice gruff but sincere.

As you and Sevika sit together, you try to maintain a casual conversation, but there's an undercurrent of tension you can't ignore. Sevika's responses are clipped, her gaze never quite meeting yours. It's like she's looking through you, not at you.

"Hey," you say softly, reaching out to touch her arm. "What's going on?"

She turns slowly, her eyes finally meeting yours. But there’s something different in them, something that makes your heart clench. It’s infuriating, this distance she’s putting between you, this wall she’s building brick by brick.

“Sevika,” you say, trying to break through that wall. “Talk to me.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Nothing can happen between us again,” she says, the words falling heavy between you like a death sentence.

You stare at her, disbelief mingling with hurt. “What?”

Her gaze flickers, something like pain flashing in her eyes before she steels herself again. “We can’t do this,” she says, her voice low and strained. “We can’t keep pretending this… whatever this is… can last.”

You feel the ground shift beneath you like the world is falling away, leaving you teetering on the edge of a precipice. “You’re really going to say that after everything?” Your voice cracks, the hurt seeping through despite your best efforts to keep it at bay. “How do you kiss someone, make them believe there’s something real, and then just—throw it away?”

Sevika’s jaw clenches, and she looks away, as if unable to bear the sight of your pain. “You can be mad at me, hate me if you want,” she says. “But it has to be this way.”

“I’m not mad,” you reply, your heart breaking with every word. “I’m hurt, Sevika. I’m hurt because I care about you, and you’re pushing me away like none of it matters.”

“I know,” she whispers, her voice so soft it’s almost lost in the hum of the machines. 

“Then why?” you demand, your voice wavering as you struggle to understand. “Why are you doing this?”

She finally looks at you, really looks at you, and the anguish in her eyes is like a punch to the gut. “Because if I let myself love you,” she says, her voice breaking on the word, “I know we’d never have enough time. ”

Her words hit you like a tidal wave, drowning you in the despair that’s been brewing in your chest. “But isn't some time better than none at all? I'd rather have a handful of precious moments with you than spend the rest of my life wondering 'what if.'” The tears you’ve been holding back now streaming down your face. 

“Even if it hurts, even if it's brief – at least it would be real.”

Sevika shakes her head, her expression a storm of anger and fear. Her words come out in a rush, like she can't hold them back any longer.

"You don't understand. I was okay before you. I was okay with the idea of dying, of existing day after day without purpose until my time ran out. But now?" Her voice hardens. "Now I'm terrified. I'm not okay with losing you. I'm not okay with the thought that you could walk out that door and never come back."

“I didn't need this. I didn't need you to come along and give me a reason to call this godforsaken place home. I didn't need you to make me want to survive instead of just exist.”  She’s practically pleading now.  “Don't you see what you've done to me? Needing you means I have something to lose."

The weight of her confession crushes you, the finality of it sinking in. She’s not just pushing you away—she’s tearing herself apart to do it, ripping out the very thing that might make her feel alive, all because she’s so afraid of the pain it could bring.

“I’d shatter every bone in my body again if it meant keeping you safe,” you say, your voice trembling. “I’d do anything for you, Sevika, and it hurts so bad that you won’t let me.”

She turns her head away. “You’re too stubborn,” she whispers, her voice resigned. “You won’t stop, and neither will I, and it’ll kill us both in the end.”

“You look at me like I’m already dead,” you say, your voice cracking with the weight of your grief. “Like I’m a ghost you’ve been carrying around, waiting for the right moment to bury me.”

She flinches, the words cutting deep. “Because that’s what it feels like,” she confesses. “I feel like I’ve already lost you, and it’s killing me. I’d rather lose you now when we still have a chance to walk away than lose you out there, where I can’t protect you.”

The following silence is deafening, the air thick with everything neither of you can bring yourselves to say. You reach out, your hand trembling as you gently caress her cheek, trying to offer comfort in the only way you know how. She leans into your touch for a moment, her eyes closing as if she’s trying to savor it, to hold onto it before it’s gone.

“Are you doing this to protect me, or are you protecting yourself?” you ask softly, the question hanging in the air like a lifeline, offering her one last chance to admit the truth.

She opens her eyes, and the pain you see there nearly undoes you. “Both,” she admits. “I’m protecting both of us. I’ll never survive the day I lose you. And I can’t—” Her voice breaks, and she swallows hard, her eyes pleading with you to understand. “I can’t live.”

Your heart shatters as the reality of her words sinks in. She’s already decided, already convinced herself that this is the only way to keep you both safe, even if it means tearing herself apart in the process.

“Can I be alone?” you ask, your voice small and broken, the words barely escaping your lips.

Sevika nods, her expression tightening as she takes a step back. “Yeah,” she says. “I’ll go.”

She turns to leave, but before she can take another step, you reach out. “Sevika, wait,” you say, your voice filled with desperation. “Can you hand me my bag?”

She hesitates, her gaze flickering to the bag and then back to you. After a moment, she nods and hands it to you, her fingers brushing yours for the briefest of moments, sending a jolt of longing through you. You rummage through the bag, your heart pounding as you pull out the familiar fabric of her shawl.

You hold it out to her. “This belongs to you.”

Sevika stares at the shawl, her eyes widening as she realizes what it means. For a moment, she just stands there, looking at it like it’s a lifeline she’s too afraid to grasp. Then, she takes it from you.

She looks at you, and in her eyes, you see all the things she wants to say, all the things she’s too scared to admit. And then, without another word, she turns and walks out of the room, the door closing quietly behind her, leaving you alone with nothing but the ghost of her touch and the scent of her shawl lingering in the air.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

You didn’t accept any visitors for days, under the guise that you were too tired and needed the rest to recover. But as tempting as curling in bed and crying over a woman that you never even had a proper relationship with was, you knew you couldn’t hide away forever.

Blinking, you see a group of people piling into your room.

Vander's deep voice rumbles, "Easy now, let's not overwhelm her."

Caitlyn is standing over you. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

Before you can answer, Powder chimes in, "Bet you feel like you've been hit by a truck. Am I right?"

"Something like that," you croak.

Your attention is drawn to the doorway where Grayson stands, little Ren in her arms. The child is clutching Grayson's yellow armband tightly.

Grayson sets Ren down gently. "Go on, little one," she says softly.

Ren doesn't need to be told twice. She rushes to your bedside, her small hands gripping the edge of the mattress. "Miss, are you okay?" she asks, her voice shakes slightly. "Will you be like Sevika?"

The innocence in her question tugs at your heart. You reach out, ignoring the twinge of pain from the movement and the mention of Sevika, to pat her hand. "No, darling," you reply softly. "Sevika is unique. I'll be just fine."

Grayson moves closer, her stern expression softening slightly. "That was brave," she says. "But also very idiotic of you."

You frown at the comment, the words too similar to Sevika’s at the prison.  

Vander's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "You gave us quite a scare," he says. "But you're tough. You'll pull through."

Caitlyn nods in agreement. "We've managed to replenish some of our medical supplies thanks to the hospital mission." she informs you. 

Vi adds with a smirk, "And don't even think about trying to get up and be a hero again anytime soon."

“Yeah… I wouldn’t dream of it,” you respond hoarsely.  

Over the next week, your family comes and goes, their visits being the highlight of your monotonous days.  Grayson usually stopped by with Ren, the two were closer than you expected but Marcus had flitted in and out of Ren’s life so often that Grayson stepped up as a parental figure.  You offered to take care of the kid while you were still bed-bound, and Grayson only reluctantly agreed when you assured her it wouldn’t obstruct your healing process.

You find yourself sitting up in bed, Ren cross-legged beside you. Math worksheets are spread out between you.

"If an apple cost three dollars and you needed to buy five apples, how much would that cost?"

Ren's brow furrows in concentration. "Um... fifteen dollars?"

You beam at her. "That's right! You're getting good at this."

A knock at the door interrupts your math lesson and Vi pokes her head in, her red hair slightly disheveled.

"Hey, time to get moving," she says with a grin.

You turn to Ren, giving her a warm smile. "Let's do this again tomorrow, sweetie?"

Ren nods enthusiastically, gathering her papers. "Alright! Bye-bye, miss! I hope you feel better!"

As Ren scampers out, Vi approaches, offering her arm for support. You wince as you stand, your body still protesting the movement.

“Easy,” she murmurs, her tone softening as she watches your struggle. “Take it slow.”

You grit your teeth, focusing on her voice, on the feel of her arm supporting you. Slowly, you manage a few steps, each one a little less painful than the last. 

“How’s it feel?” Vi asks, keeping pace with you, her gaze never leaving your face.

“Like hell,” you admit with a shaky laugh, though there’s a small sense of victory in the simple act of standing on your own two feet again. “But better than yesterday.”

Vi nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Progress,” she says. “You’re getting stronger.”

As you slowly make your way down the hallway, Vi starts chatting about her day. "You wouldn't believe the shit from yesterday. We were chasing some survivors that tried to steal our shit through an alley, and then Sevika shows up out of nowhere and--" 

The moment the words are out, Vi winces, realizing her mistake too late.  You feel a sharp pang in your chest at the mention of Sevika's name. 

"Uh, anyway, we got the guy in the end.” she says.

“She… was?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

Vi looks away, guilt flashing in her eyes. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It’s good,” you say, though the words feel like a lie even as they leave your lips. “It’s good that she caught them.”

Vi nods. “I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head, forcing a small smile. “It’s okay. It’s just… I miss her.  It’s stupid, we weren’t anything.”

“I know,” she says. “But it’s not stupid.”

There’s a long silence, the kind that’s filled with all the words neither of you know how to say. “If you didn’t have Caitlyn, would you be okay with all of this? Would you be able to live with everything we do?”

She’s quiet for a moment as she considers your words. “Do I have a choice?” she finally says, her voice tinged with a sadness you’ve rarely heard from her. “I have Powder. I have you, Vander… my family. I’d feel incomplete, sure, but I don’t have a choice. I have to keep going.”

“We’ll keep going, together.” She adds.

“Thanks, Vi.” Despite your gratefulness, her words feel like they’re coming from a distance, muffled by the grief you’re still trying to process. 

Your family helps you through it all, they talk to you about everything and nothing, filling the silence with stories. The days pass, and slowly, you begin to reclaim small pieces of yourself. You walk more, the physical therapy sessions become less of a struggle and more of a routine.

And each night, when the room is quiet and you’re alone with your thoughts, you think of Sevika. It’s not easy. Some days, the weight of it all feels unbearable, like you’re drowning in a sea of what-ifs and lost chances. But you keep going, step by step, knowing that it’s all you can do.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting session, you lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling as your thoughts drift. You think about Sevika, about the last time you saw her, the pain in her eyes as she walked away. And you wonder if she feels the same weight, if she’s struggling just as much to move on.

You close your eyes, and for a moment, you imagine her here, standing by your side. And as you drift off to sleep, you could swear you hear her voice, soft and broken, whispering in the dark.

“I failed you.”

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The pantry is filled with the scent of canned goods and the faint rustle of paper bags. You’re focused on stacking cans of beans when your grip falters, and one slips from your fingers.

Before it can hit the ground, a hand darts out and catches it. You look up to see a man with a cocky grin. He’s tall and lean, with slicked-back hair and piercing teal eyes.  You don’t know why, but he looked oddly familiar.

“Well, well,” he drawls. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing down here? Are we that understaffed that we’re making the injured work now?”

You snatch the can back from him. “Not that it’s any of your business,” you reply curtly, setting the can back on the shelf, “but I wanted to do this.”

He chuckles, leaning against the shelf with a casual arrogance. “Looks like supplies are running a bit thin,” he comments slyly, his eyes flicking to the half-empty shelves. “Maybe you should take it easy before you use up what little energy we have left.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your patience wearing thin. “I’m not interested in your opinion.”

Before he can retort, the door to the pantry swings open with a loud creak, and Sevika steps inside. The air changes instantly when her gaze zeroes in on the man. 

“Finn,” she growls. “What are you doing here?”

Finn straightens up and raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just making sure our friend here isn’t overworking herself,” he says innocently.

“Get lost,” Sevika snaps. “Now.”

With a lazy shrug, Finn backs off, giving you a final, lingering look before sauntering out of the pantry. The door closes behind him, leaving you alone with Sevika. 

Sevika turns to you. “I was told you’re working here again,” she says, her voice sharp with disapproval. “Are you stupid? You’re barely healed.”

You bristle at her tone. "I needed to do something."

"Yeah, like babysitting Ren," she snaps. “Not this.”

"Why does it matter what I do?" you challenge, your voice rising.

For a moment, Sevika doesn’t answer, but then her eyes widen.

“You’re bleeding.” 

You blink, confused. “What?”

You look down and see a trickle of blood seeping through the bandages on your side. The pain hits you a second later, sharp and burning, but you grit your teeth, refusing to show weakness in front of her.

“It’s nothing,” you say quickly, trying to downplay it. “I can bandage it myself.”

But Sevika is already moving toward you, her expression darkening with worry. “You’re not going back to your place like this,” she mutters. “Come on. My place is closer.”

Before you can protest, she’s already scooping you up into her arms. The world blurs around you as she carries you through the streets and you’re too shocked to resist.

When you reach her place, she sets you down on the edge of her bed, her touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary before she pulls away.

“Just sit,” she instructs as she moves to grab a first aid kit from a nearby drawer.

“I can do it.” 

Sevika shakes her head, her expression set in a way that leaves no room for argument. “I have experience with this,” she says quietly. “Let me.”

You watch in silence as she works. Her hands, usually so strong and rough, are gentle as they press a fresh bandage against your skin. There’s a tenderness in the way she handles you, in the way she refuses to meet your gaze as she focuses on the wound, that makes your chest ache.

Finally, Sevika finishes. She stands, the distance between you growing once more as she busies herself with putting away the first aid kit, her movements stiff and mechanical.

“Thanks.” You want to leave, not to be any more inconvenient than you already were but Sevika replies before you can say anything.

“You should rest,” she says, her voice flat, devoid of the warmth that was there just moments ago. “Don’t push yourself like that again.”

You reluctantly agree to stay and the tension in Sevika's shoulders eases slightly. She mumbles something about bringing dinner later and leaves you to rest.

Left alone, you take in your surroundings. The room is sparse, almost impersonal. Unlike the chaos in the other rooms, this space feels hollow. There are no personal belongings, no knick-knacks, nothing to suggest that she even uses this bed. It's as if the room itself is holding its breath, existing in a state of perpetual temporariness.

Exhaustion soon overtakes you, and you drift off to sleep. But you soon wake again at the sound of muffled voices.  Through the haze of half-consciousness, you hear one of Sevika's people inviting her to a party, but she declines. 

"Nah, I'm staying in today," you hear her say.

The voices fade, and you slowly wake up, disoriented. You stumble to the doorway of the living room, blinking sleep from your eyes. Sevika is there, dressed in casual clothes – a grey tank top and worn jeans with her hair down, falling in messy waves around her face.  She's cleaning up, a pile of bottles in her arms when she notices you.

"You're awake," she says, startled. "Shit, did I wake you up?"

You shake your head, your voice still rough with sleep. "No, you're good... Do you need help with that?"

"No. Fuck, sit down. What are you doing walking around?"

Still groggy, you comply without argument, sinking into the couch. Sevika dumps the bottles in a bag and turns back to you.

"I'm making dinner," she says, washing her hands at the sink. "You're okay with instant noodles and spam?"

The domesticity of the moment catches you off guard. "Sounds delicious," you manage to say.

Sevika nods and turns to the small kitchenette. You watch her move around the space. It's surreal, seeing her like this – relaxed, casual, making dinner for you both. For a moment, you can almost pretend things are different between you.

Sevika settles on the far arm of the couch next to you, the small distance between you both feeling more like a chasm. 

"Chopsticks or fork?" she asks, holding out both options.

"Chopsticks," you reply, and a ghost of a smile flickers across her face.

"Good choice," she murmurs, handing them to you.

You eat in comfortable silence, stealing glances at her when you think she's not looking. When you finish, Sevika collects the empty bowls.

"Want dessert?"

"Sure," you nod, watching as she retrieves an apple from the kitchen.

She settles back on the arm of the couch, peeling the apple with a small knife. "How's the physical therapy going?" Sevika asks, breaking the silence.

You shrug. "It's... going. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless."

She nods, placing slices onto a plate. "That's good. Don't push yourself too hard."

"Says the woman who never knows when to quit," you tease gently.

A wry smile tugs at her lips. "Do as I say, not as I do."

As you reach for the last slice, Sevika’s hand brushes your cheek. You freeze, the touch unexpected, and you look up at her, your heart suddenly pounding in your chest.

“There’s an eyelash,” she says softly, her voice gentle as she carefully removes it from your face. She holds it up for you to see, the tiny, delicate lash resting on her fingertip. “Make a wish.”

You stare at the eyelash, your mind racing with all the things you could wish for, should wish for. But the words stick in your throat, and you find yourself frozen, unable to think of anything that could possibly fix what’s been broken.

“Did you wish?”

You shake your head slightly, the corners of your mouth turning up in a sad smile. “I... I didn't get the chance.”

She raises an eyebrow, her gaze piercing as she studies you. “And there’s something you wish for?”

“Yes,” You hesitate, the words coming slowly, painfully, like pulling them from some deep, hidden place inside you. “I was wishing… that we were two other people. Two people who didn’t have to say goodbye.”

The silence that follows is thick, charged with the tension of emotions neither of you can afford to express. Sevika’s expression tightens, her jaw clenching as she absorbs your words.

“You know, if you say it out loud, it doesn’t come true,” she says, her voice rough, like she’s fighting against the vulnerability of the moment.

“Do you believe that?” 

She looks down at the eyelash, still resting on her finger, before blowing it away into the air. Her gaze follows it for a moment before she looks back at you. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unmovable, like a finality neither of you can escape. 

“We should sleep,” Sevika says finally. “It’s late.”

You nod, knowing she’s right. There’s nothing more to be said, nothing that can change the way things are. 

“Thank you,” you say softly.

Sevika looks at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she nods, just once, and steps back, letting you go. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you echo, your heart heavy as you turn and walk away.

As you reach the end of the hallway, you glance back, just once. Sevika is still standing in the doorway, watching you, her figure framed by the dim light. There’s something in her posture, something in the way she’s holding herself that makes you think she might be wishing too—wishing for something that neither of you can have.

But then she steps back, closing the door behind her, and you’re left standing in the cold, empty hallway, the echoes of what could have been ringing in your ears.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the makeshift shooting range. You and Grayson stand side by side, both of you facing a row of targets at the far end of the field. You’ve been practicing your aim for a while now, but your focus has been off, your shots missing the mark more often than not.

“You haven’t said anything about my shit shot,” you mutter, glancing sideways at Grayson, expecting some form of criticism.

She shrugs, her eyes on the distant targets. "You're injured. Why would I?"

You snort. "Liar. Weeks ago, you'd have torn me apart. What's different now?"

Grayson doesn't answer, instead gesturing to a nearby bench overlooking the community below. You follow her, settling onto the worn wood with a sigh.The elevated view makes the world seem vast and small all at once.

Grayson passes you a canteen, and you take a long drink before speaking again. "You snitched to Sevika about me working."

Grayson raises an eyebrow. "Snitching? Are we ten?"

"She didn't need to know," you mutter, avoiding her gaze.

"You were going hurt yourself," Grayson says softly. "And you needed to see her. For closure, at least."

You fall silent, not wanting to delve into the complicated mess of emotions surrounding Sevika. Instead, you change the subject. "How's Ren?"

“Ren’s sleeping in today. She’s been up late these past few nights, working on that puzzle I gave her.”  Grayson’s face immediately brightens at the mention of Ren.

“She’s got that stubborn streak. Wonder where she gets it.” 

“Must be the company she keeps,” Grayson replies, her voice laced with affection. “Marcus is at the walls today, keeping an eye on things. It’s been quiet, for the most part.”

You nod, your gaze drifting back to the field. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” you muse. “Every day is the same. We do the same things, see the same faces… What makes it worth living?”

Grayson leans back on the bench, her eyes scanning the horizon as she considers her answer. “You make your own reasons,” she says finally, her tone thoughtful. “For me, it’s taking care of Ren. Making sure she has something to hold onto, something good in this world.”

There’s a pause, and you can tell Grayson is choosing her words carefully. “I never thought of myself as the maternal type,” she continues, sounding almost wistful. “But with Ren… It’s different. She’s taught me more about love than I ever knew.  In whatever time I got left here, I want to continue it with her, to see her grow up and prove there’s still something more for us here.”

You feel a pang in your chest, suddenly remembering Sevika and her belief that there would never be enough time for the two of you. But where Grayson found strength in loving deeply despite that, Sevika chose to close herself off, to protect herself from the inevitable pain.

Grayson looks at you, her eyes filled with a quiet understanding. “Sometimes, the hardest thing is to keep loving, even when you know it won’t last. But that’s what makes it worth it. Knowing that you made the most of the time you had, that you loved fully, even if it hurts in the end.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, the truth of them resonating with a painful clarity. 

“It’s hard,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “When you know it’s not going to last.”

Grayson nods, her expression gentle. “It is. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. You have to find your own reason to keep going, to keep loving, even when it seems like everything is falling apart.”

The conversation settles into a quiet lull, the words lingering between you as the sun dips lower in the sky. You take another sip from the flask, the burn of the alcohol doing little to numb the ache in your chest.

“You’re always looking out for us, making sure we’re okay.” you say after a moment, your voice tinged with admiration. 

“I’m satisfied  – knowing that I’ve done what I can to make this place a little better, to take care of the people who matter.”

“Thank you,” you say softly, the words carrying more weight than you intended. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she replies gently. “We’re all in this together. And besides,” she adds with a small, teasing smile, “someone has to keep you in line.”

You chuckle, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere just a bit.

But the peaceful moment on the hill was brief, the tranquility shattered by the sound of rapid footsteps and panicked crying. You and Grayson turn to see Ren running towards you, her face streaked with tears and her small body shaking with sobs.

Grayson immediately drops to her knees, catching Ren in her arms. "What happened, sweetheart?" she asks, her voice calm but laced with urgency.

Ren tries to speak through her tears, her words coming out in broken gasps. "Daddy said... we were going on a trip... but the monsters... they blocked us and he couldn’t close the gate... now they're coming to get us!"

As if on cue, screams erupt from the direction of the community. You and Grayson exchange a quick glance, both reaching for your weapons without hesitation.

Ren clings to Grayson's yellow armband, her eyes wide with terror. "I want to go with you!" she cries.

Grayson cups Ren's face gently, her voice soft but firm. "Darling, listen to me. I will come back, I promise. But right now, you need to get to safety. Can you be brave for me?"

Ren nods, her lower lip trembling. You know without words what needs to be done - get everyone to safety.

You both sprint down the hill, Grayson carrying Ren. As you near the community, the chaos becomes more apparent. Gunshots ring out, mixing with screams of panic and pain. People are running in all directions, fear etched on their faces.

Vi appears beside you, her red hair wild and her eyes blazing. "We're seriously underarmed right now!" she shouts over the noise. "Sevika's crew is out!"

"We have to make do," you yell back, scanning the area. You spot Caitlyn and a few others on the walls, their snipers picking off threats in the distance.

You, Vi, and the handful of armed residents form a protective line, herding panicked civilians towards their homes. "Get inside! Lock your doors!" you shout, your voice hoarse from the effort.

Children cry for their parents, the elderly struggle to move quickly enough. You see a young mother stumble, her baby wailing in her arms. You rush to her side, helping her to her feet and guiding her to safety.

Everywhere you look, there's movement – people running, fighting, falling. 

The air is thick with the stench of death and the deafening cacophony of gunfire. You're shoulder to shoulder with VI, both of you firing relentlessly at the endless wave of walkers. Sweat stings your eyes as you shout, "Vi! On your left!"

She pivots, taking down three walkers in quick succession. But for every one you drop, two more seem to take its place. The situation is rapidly spiraling out of control, and a sinking feeling in your gut tells you you're fighting a losing battle.

But suddenly, powerful headlights cut through the darkness as a convoy of trucks roars onto the scene. Your heart leaps – you'd recognize that cavalry anywhere.

As if materializing from thin air, more trucks appear, effortlessly mowing down walkers and clearing streets. One screeches to a halt in front of you, and then there she is.

A familiar figure vaults from the truck bed – Sevika, her red shawl billowing behind her. She swiftly unslings a shotgun from her back and starts blasting walkers left and right. Her face is composed, every feature carefully controlled, but when her eyes find yours, a fleeting shadow passes over them—a trace of fear and concern.

"You okay?" she shouts over the din, closing the distance between you.

You nod, breathless. "A lot are injured. I don't know, there's too many – I think they're coming from the west gate. Ren said something about Marcus not being able to close it."

Sevika's jaw tightens. She yanks out a radio, barking orders to dispatch teams to the west gate. In seconds, she's handing out weapons, her voice ringing with authority. "Split up! I want a team grabbing as many injured as possible. Anyone bitten, take them out."

As you move to join the fray, Sevika's hand clamps on your arm. "No," she growls. "What the hell are you doing? Get to safety with the others. You're still injured."

"Fine," you concede. "But I'm finding Grayson first."

Sevika gives a curt nod before sprinting back into action. You catch a glimpse of Vi, her red hair unmistakable as she leaps into a truck bed. 

You weave through the chaos, dodging walkers and searching for Grayson. Gunfire echoes off buildings, punctuated by the revving of engines and the sounds of walkers being dispatched. 

A scream to your left – you spin, firing instinctively. A walker drops, inches from a couple. You quickly wave to them to follow and you sprint to the safe house together. Your leg protests, but adrenaline keeps you moving.

Your heart pounds as you finally spot Grayson, but she's going the opposite direction. 

"Grayson!" you shout. "Sevika and her team are here. We need to get everyone to safety!"

She doesn't slow down. "There's someone stuck in a car!"

That's when you see it - a vehicle surrounded by a writhing mass of walkers, their decaying hands clawing at the windows. Inside, you catch a glimpse of a terrified face.

Without hesitation, you sprint after Grayson. The two of you work in tandem, picking off walkers. When you reach the car, Grayson covers you as you wrench the door open. A young boy, no older than seven, practically leaps into her arms.

"We've got to move!" Grayson shouts.

You guys run, the child clinging to her as you lead the way.  You’re clearing the path, and you’re halfway to the safehouse when you hear the dreaded click of an empty chamber.

"I'm out!" you yell.

Grayson turns, her eyes flashing with a decision you can see forming before she even speaks. "Take the kid. Go!"

"Wait, we can make it together!"

She shakes her head, placing the boy into your arms. "Sevika's crew is here, remember? I'll be okay. Get everyone to safety!"

Before you can protest, she's shoving you toward safety, using her body as a shield for the child. You run, every step feeling like a betrayal, but knowing you have to trust her.

You make it to a house, handing off the child to waiting arms. Your lungs burn as you gasp for air, eyes scanning the chaos for any sign of Grayson.

Suddenly, Sevika's there, her face smeared with grime and blood but her eyes alight with fierce triumph. "We closed the gate. Got them all."

Relief floods you for a moment, but then reality crashes back. "Wait, where's Grayson?"

Confusion flickers across Sevika's face, but before she can respond, a heart-wrenching wail cuts through the air. You both rush outside, joining a growing crowd.

The scene that greets you turns your blood to ice. Caitlyn is on the ground, her body wracked with sobs. Vi kneels beside her, arms wrapped around her shaking form. "I couldn't save her," Caitlyn chokes out between gasps. "I couldn't shoot them fast enough."

Her sniper lies discarded in the dirt, and that's when you see her. Grayson.

The world seems to tilt on its axis. You stumble forward, unable to process what you're seeing. Grayson, who was just beside you moments ago. Grayson, who sacrificed herself to save a child. Grayson, whose quiet strength held your community together.

She now lies on the ground, her body wracked with violent coughs, blood staining her lips. Her breaths had grown shallow, each one more of a struggle than the last, and when she reached for Sevika’s hand, you knew what she was asking for. Sevika’s fingers trembled as she grasped Grayson’s hand, and when Grayson whispered, “Do it,” you saw a flash of something break inside Sevika.

She obeyed.

The gunshot echoed in your ears, louder than the chaos around you, but it was the sight of Sevika gently closing Grayson’s eyes that broke you. Sevika had always been unbreakable, she seemed immune to the horrors of this world. But as she knelt beside Grayson, you saw the cracks forming.  She closed Grayson’s eyes, her hand trembling just for a second before she stood up, towering over the body like a stone sentinel. 

You could barely breathe, the grief suffocating you, making it impossible to think about anything other than how many bodies that needs burying tomorrow. How many families would be broken by the news? How many children would cry for family and friends who would never come home? 

“Grayson?” Ren’s voice was barely a whisper, filled with innocence and confusion. The kid was supposed to be inside the safe house but instead, she stood there, eyes wide and uncomprehending, staring at the lifeless form on the ground. “Why is Grayson sleeping? Tell her to wake up… We won, didn’t we?”

You wanted to tell her something—anything—but the words choked in your throat. Ren dropped to her knees beside Grayson, her tiny hands shaking as they touched the cold, lifeless body.

Sevika finally moved, her expression unreadable, her walls up higher than ever. Without a word, she reached into her pocket and pulled out Grayson’s yellow band. She knelt down, her massive frame suddenly so small beside Ren, and gently placed the band in the child’s trembling hands.

Ren looked up at Sevika, eyes full of questions. But before anything could be said, Silco emerged from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous intensity. He was flanked by his men, their faces grim and cold, and at the center of it all was Marcus.

He was barely recognizable—his face a mangled mess of bruises and blood. He was dragged forward, forced to his knees in the dirt where Grayson had fallen. The sight of him brought Sevika to her feet, her fists clenched tight. You could see the battle raging inside her, the desire to end him right then and there, but she held back.

"Look at him," he began, his tone soft, almost conversational, as if he were discussing something trivial. "A man who betrayed the very community that kept him protected him fed and protected. Who left nothing but the ashes of his own cowardice."

He walked slowly around Marcus, like a predator circling its prey. "This is the price of betrayal, the cost of thinking you can stand in the way of what must be done. You all know him," Silco continued, addressing the crowd that had gathered, their eyes fixed on the broken man at his feet. "You know his face, his uniform, his lies. But you must also know this: in a world where there are no second chances, there are no second thoughts."

Silco’s voice grew harder, colder, as he leaned down close to Marcus’s ear. "Your cowardice, your betrayal, a mistake that cost how many lives today? And now, you will pay the price for that."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final, and Marcus’s body shuddered, knowing what was coming. Silco straightened, his eyes scanning the crowd. "Let this be a lesson to all who would think to cross us, to cross me. There is no forgiveness in this world, only retribution."

You don’t know what happened next, because you’re taking Ren into your arms and you’re moving – away from the crowd, away from the punishment that you know her father will face.

Ren clings to you, burying her face in your chest, and you hold her close, wishing you could shield her from all of this. "What’s happening to Daddy?" she asks, her voice muffled by your shirt. "And Grayson?"

You didn’t have an answer. The only thing you could do was hold her tighter, trying to block out the screams, the fire, the blood.

Time passes, the night dragging on in a blur of grief. Inside the house, the silence was deafening. You had scrubbed the blood from Ren’s skin, but it still lingered in the air, the scent of death refusing to leave. Grayson’s face kept flashing before your eyes, her last breath, her last words, the way her body crumpled in Sevika’s arms.

And now, as you stared out the window, you saw them—Silco’s men, forming a straight, omnious line as they marched out into the night. At the center of it all was a giant wooden cross, and tied to it was Marcus. His head hung low, his body limp, but he was still alive.

Your breath caught in your throat when Sevika looked up at the window. For a moment, your eyes locked, and you saw nothing in her gaze but a cold, empty challenge. The Sevika you knew wasn’t there, but replaced by someone who had buried whatever was left of her soul beneath layers of survival and duty. She turns away, breaking the gaze as she climbed into the backseat of a vehicle.  You watch as the trucks disappeared into the night until the only thing you could see was the small form of the cross.

The night presses in around you, heavy with loss, and you wonder if anything would ever feel whole again.

taglist:

@mirconreadzztuff22 @lils-1979 @veoomvroom @schmoni

@poxismind @kittykatz1227 @archangeldyke-all @abbyssgf @ivorydevil

@lez-zuha @iamastar @jellyfishrnice @anemoxlys @l0vel3tterl0ver

@lavendersgirl @h0pe-scotch @lia-winther @kittykatz1227 @dontknowwhenispawned

@sevikitty @sarahduke @raphaellearp @cewl-casper @crying-lighting443

@sodavrr @sweet-lover-girl @love-sevikalove @pinkyykisses @glass-apothecary

@mulan-but-gay @lesbnrock @hyuckiesoftie

[3leafstem]

Thinking about what kind of tech Jason has in his helmet.

Ignoring the og bomb. For sure he's got voice modulator, which implies some sound proofing so the voice is mostly filtered through the mic, which also implies mics/speakers to pick up sound outside the helmet and filter it in, unless there's much less proofing around the ears, but it would still be muffled.

There's gotta be air filtration. If a toxin is released, he's not gonna take it off to exchange for a gas mask. But I can't recall any canon times he's been seen around a toxin with his helmet (granted I haven't looked), so just gotta assume. This also means the helmet is air tight, some type of latching devices around base.

Comms are a question of are they built into the helmet or separate. If he lost his helmet, it would mean losing his comms too, so I like to think that even if there's comms built in, he has an earpiece at least as a backup just in case.

Then there's the lenses/eyes. They've gotta be lenses rather than holes for the air tight thing, unless it's air tight only around the bottom half of his face. There may be a part inside that juts in to fit snugly over his nose and cheek bones, but that seems unlikely, unnecessary, and uncomfortable.

From here, it's all just speculations and head canons. Are they just lenses? Do they have night vision? Are they opaque on the outside? What other kind of tech could you fit in there? WayneTech, what can you do? I'm sure he'd have more leeway in his helmet than the other bats' lenses do, because he has room for proper wiring, whereas you're working with very limited microtech for dominos.

Speaking of, is he wearing two layers of lenses because of his domino? Can they flick up the lenses, or like slide them up in the dominos if they wanted? I feel like they would have to be malleable for that. Otherwise it's just an all or nothing deal.

Back to Jason, is there a coloured film on the world? Is he seeing the world just extra pale/white because of having two white lenses?

How the hell do one way glass/mirrors work? Can that apply to this situation? Can they be super thin?

I'm so sleep deprived.

[strljaem]

“i want my wisdom tooth back”

“ah wah ma wizum toof bah”

It was early Saturday morning, and I was sweating buckets in the passenger seat of Jaemin's car. Jaemin glanced at me as we stopped at a red light, his hand finding mine. "It's gonna be fine," he said, squeezing my hand gently. "You're just having your wisdom teeth out, it's not like they're removing your actual wisdom."

I didn't laugh at his joke, which probably scared him a little, but I was too nervous to even smile. I was about to have two wisdom teeth pulled, and the thought of sharp objects in my mouth was not my idea of a fun weekend. Jaemin drove on, his soothing voice trying to calm me down with stories about the latest drama in his gaming guild. I think he even mentioned something about his cat getting stuck in a shoebox, but I was too focused on the upcoming appointment to really pay attention.

The dentist's office was everything you'd expect: sterile, white, and full of equipment that looked like medieval torture devices. Jaemin led me to the front counter, where a cheerful nurse with glasses perched on her nose asked for my name. I squeaked out my name, and she nodded, telling us to take a seat and wait for my name to be called.

I sat down on a hard plastic chair, clutching Jaemin's hand like it was my only lifeline. He caressed my fingers and smiled at me, his grin warm and reassuring. "You're doing great," he said. "Just remember to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth."

It wasn't long before the doctor called my name. Jaemin and I stood up together, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we walked into the treatment room. The doctor was a tall man with a big smile. He looked at Jaemin and then at me. "Is he your boyfriend?" he asked, grinning.

"Yes," I replied, my voice trembling.

The doctor chuckled and gestured for me to sit in the dentist's chair. "Don't worry, you're in good hands," he said, motioning for me to lean back. The nurse came in, and they began to prepare for the procedure. There was some kind of mask, a lot of beeping equipment, and a tray full of shiny, terrifying tools. I was having second thoughts about this whole thing, but Jaemin was standing right beside me, holding my hand and rubbing small circles on the back of it with his thumb.

The doctor adjusted the mask over my nose and mouth and said, "This is just laughing gas. You'll be asleep for a bit, and when you wake up, it'll all be over." I nodded, trying to stay calm as the gas started to take effect. Jaemin pulled out his phone and started recording, which, looking back, was a little mean, but hey, it's not every day you get to see your significant other on laughing gas.

Everything started to get a little fuzzy, and the last thing I saw before I fell asleep was Jaemin's reassuring smile.

I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke up, I felt like I was on a cloud made of cotton candy. Jaemin was still there, holding my hand and watching me with a smirk on his face. I tried to sit up, but the room spun, and I fell back into the chair.

"Where am I?" I asked, my voice all slurred and groggy.

Jaemin chuckled. "You're at the dentist. You just had your wisdom teeth out, remember?"

I blinked at him, my eyes heavy and unfocused. "You're so handsome," I said, my voice dreamy and totally without a filter.

The doctor and nurse laughed, and Jaemin just shook his head, his cheeks turning a little red. "Thanks," he said, helping me to sit up carefully. "Let's get you to the car, sleepyhead."

He walked me out to the parking lot, his arm around my waist to keep me steady. I was still in a daze, but at least I had my handsome boyfriend to guide me. He helped me into the car, buckled my seatbelt, and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

"See? That wasn't so bad," he said as he started the car.

I groaned, my mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton balls. "I need a smoothie," I mumbled.

Jaemin grinned. "Smoothie it is," he said, and off we went, my wisdom teeth somewhere in a biohazard bag, but my heart firmly in the hands of the sweetest boyfriend ever.

Jaemin drove carefully out of the parking lot, glancing over at me every few moments to make sure I wasn't about to topple over. My head was lolling a bit, and my cheeks were swollen like a chipmunk's. The gauze in my mouth felt weird, and my brain was still foggy from the anesthesia.

As we turned onto the main road, I suddenly had a thought. It seemed important, like one of those random ideas that feels like a breakthrough even though it's completely silly. I turned to Jaemin, my words garbled and slow because of the gauze.

"I want my wisdom tooth back," I mumbled, trying to sound serious, but it came out more like, "Ah wah ma wizum toof bah."

Jaemin looked at me, puzzled at first, then he burst out laughing. "What?" he asked, shaking his head. "What are you going to do with your wisdom tooth?"

I tried to explain, but the gauze and the anesthetic made everything difficult. "I... I just want it... you know, like a trophy," I slurred, feeling oddly proud of the idea.

Jaemin was still laughing, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "I'm pretty sure the dentist keeps those," he said, patting my shoulder. "Trust me, you don't want it back."

I groaned, feeling a bit disappointed. "But... but... it's mine," I insisted, though it sounded more like, "Bah... bah... izz mine."

Jaemin just laughed harder, his hand squeezing my shoulder as he drove. "We'll get you a nice smoothie, how about that? It's way better than a bloody tooth."

I grumbled something unintelligible, but even in my dazed state, I could tell his laughter was infectious. The rest of the drive was filled with Jaemin chuckling at my silly, half-conscious remarks about reclaiming my wisdom tooth, while I occasionally moaned in exaggerated despair.

In the end, I might not have gotten my tooth back, but I definitely got the best care and a whole lot of laughter from the sweetest guy I knew. Maybe I'd settle for a smoothie and some ice cream, as long as Jaemin was there to share them with me.

[turonzamin]

Hydronix HX-SWC-45-1005/3 Universal Whole House Sediment String Wound Water Filter Cartridge 4.5" x 10"-5 Micron-3 Pack, White

Price: (as of – Details) 3 pack – the Hydronix swc-45-1005 polypropylene string wound filters have a particle retention size of 5 micron and are used in a residential and commercial water filtration system applications. The filter has an outside diameter (OD) of 4.5″ and overall length of 10″. made of 100 percent pure polypropylene cord, the cartridge has structural stability, and is resistance…

[pillow-priestess]

Nature Finds A Way

cw/ pollen hypnosis, addiction, floral sex, bad end(?) written for #bunbothypnovember 2024, Day 19: Flowers!

Pollen clouds dance around you as you stumble through the impossibly colorful forest. Flowers fill the air with addictive, corruptive scents.

Thankfully, you smell none of it. Your gas mask is holding up and filtering fresh, untainted air to your lungs.

You weren't supposed to get stuck here, deep in this dire, alien jungle, but here you are. You're pretty sure that you'll get back to civilization if you keep heading north, and your mask gives you enough protection that you're confident you can make it.

You have to believe you'll make it.

After nearly two hours of thrashing through bush and vine, you stumble upon a lake, one with a towering waterfall depositing hundreds of gallons by the minute. That's good! The mist of the fall seems to push away the pollen in the air, you should be safe here for a while. What you don't realize is that the filter of your gas mask has been smattered with dozens of tiny seeds from all of the flowers you've pushed through. They're normally not a danger, it's not like they sprout from your filtered CO2 alone… until they're misted with water to fuel their growth.

Even as you trudge closer to the waterfall, a swarm of tiny vines begin to press into your mask filter, pushing aside and breaking through layers of protection not designed to stop more than dirty air. When they reach the inside of your mask, they bloom. It's too late to not breathe them in. Your breath hitches as a deliciously sweet scent pushes into your airways, microscopic clouds of pollen seeping into your throat and lungs. Instinctively you realize something is wrong, but as you raise your hands to unclip your mask, delicious pleasure shoots through your nerves.

You gasp deeply.

Your nerves are tingling, and every movement seems to heighten the lovely sensation below your skin. Your vision fogs as golden pollen fills your mask, and you start to lose your balance. Overcorrecting, you stumble backwards - and find yourself falling down.

Right into a big bed of flowers.

The feeling is heavenly. Petals and stamen brush over your bare skin, nectar seeping into it and mixing with the other contaminants spreading through your body. You moan and buck your hips, already wet with growing pleasure, and barely realize as vines start to curl around you and hold you down. Flowers and leaves slide over you, every touch drawing out more desperate, needy noises echoing from your gas mask. Thorny vines creep around you, carefully cutting away your clothing without ever piercing your skin. In minutes, you're fully exposed to the jungle, save for your still masked face. Hungry flowers start to press in at your most sensitive points. Flowers that stroke and suction, dotting your body and drinking in your sweat and skin in the humid air. You desperately try and writhe, just to feel even more pleasure from contact, but the vines hold you firm.

Finally, your mask is unclipped. You gasp in a single breath of pollen from all manner of sources, before a large flower presses into your face, its petals settling around your head. You open wide to take its thick, soft pistil, nectar seeping into your tongue as your eyes roll back with need. Seeds start to flow down your throat, clinging to your inner walls and spreading roots into your nervous system. Insane pleasure overtakes any conscious thought, and the growths within you guarantee that feeling won't end. You climax into the blooms between your legs, fulfilling their pollination.

If anyone were to see this flowerbed, they might be curious as to why that strange lump seems to almost be squirming beneath layers of blooms and vines. But they would likely just keep moving past, dismissing it as another strange bush of this jungle.

Just like you did, hours ago.

The cycle of life within the forest continues. Flowers grow and bloom and spread their seeds, and all manner of creatures just can't help but delight in the pleasures of the earth~

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

By Taylyn Washington-Harmon

Wearing a mask has several benefits. It can keep you from inhaling any respiratory hazards, such as particles of dust or smoke, poor air quality, and germs. Masks can also protect others and reduce the spread of infections if you have an illness.

Research has found that wearing masks, along with social distancing, has significantly curbed the spread of SARS-CoV-2—the virus that causes COVID-19.2 KN95 and N95 respirators have been shown to offer strong protection.

1. Keeps You From Spreading Germs Masks can help prevent you from spreading germs if you're already ill. Wearing a mask decreases the likelihood that you will exhale and spread germs into the surrounding air.

2. Prevents You From Getting Sick Infectious diseases can spread from exposure to droplets containing germs that cause diseases. Masks protect you from inhaling droplets when people around you breathe, cough, sneeze, or talk.1

A 2022 study showed that one person wearing a mask is partially protected from infectious droplet exposure from others with SARS-CoV-2. One-way masking is better than not using a mask—in other words, one person wearing a mask is better than no one wearing a mask.

3. Protects People With a Weak Immune System Masks protect people who have a weak immune system. They reduce or prevent exposure to germs that can make you very sick if you are immunocompromised. This means you have an immune system that does not work properly.

Immune system dysfunction may occur due to:

Chronic diseases, such as diabetes or cancer Conditions like HIV Therapies that suppress the immune system, such as radiation therapy

4. Reduces Exposure to Allergens Wearing a mask could decrease allergen exposure, especially if you have pollen allergies. A mask that covers your mouth and nose helps filter out pollen or irritants. Masks also change the moisture and temperature level of the air you breathe in, further reducing allergy symptoms.

5. Shields You From Poor Air Quality Wearing a mask can protect your respiratory system and general health when there is poor air quality because of pollutants.8 Categories of poor air quality range from moderate to hazardous on the Air Quality Index (AQI).

The AQI measures levels of the following pollutants with Clean Air Act regulations:

Carbon monoxide, nitrogen dioxide, and sulfur dioxide: Gases from motor vehicles and industrial processes Ground-level ozone: Gas from the atmosphere referred to as smog when it reaches the ground Particle pollution: Particles made of sulfate, nitrate, carbon, and mineral dust chemicals Who Should Wear a Mask? All healthy children and adults should wear a mask when necessary. Talk to a healthcare provider to determine if and when to wear a mask if you are sick or at risk of getting very sick.

The following people should not or may not be able to wear a mask:

Children under the age of 2 People who cannot remove a mask or put one on without help People who have trouble breathing Those with certain disabilities who have trouble wearing masks (e.g., people who are sensitive to having something on their face) Choosing the Right Mask An effective mask will fit well: It won't be too tight or loose. It will also have high filtration of particles and droplets, measured by a percentage. High filtration means the mask does a good job of protecting you from those particles and droplets.

The most effective masks are ones approved by the National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health (NIOSH). NIOSH-approved masks (or respirators) are tight-fitting and have higher filtration rates—usually greater than 95%. These masks also are best at protecting you and others when worn correctly.

The next best option is international filtering respirators such as KN95s. They offer at least 80% filtration and are also tight-fitting. Other masks—including barrier face coverings, disposable masks, and cloth masks—can have variable filtration and fit. While not as effective as N95s or KN95s, disposable masks can be easy to find, comfortable to wear, and better than cloth masks or no mask at all.

Other Considerations Follow this guidance to ensure proper mask wear:

Check the mask for any damage, and use a new one if there are any defects like holes or broken pieces. Choose a mask with multiple layers and, preferably, a nose wire to get a good fit on your face. Make sure your mask covers your mouth and nose once in place. It should also fit comfortably, but snugly, on your face. Wash your hands before putting on your face mask. You can wear a cloth mask on top of a disposable mask or a mask brace over disposable or cloth masks. You can also knot and tuck three-ply mask ear loops.

A Quick Review Masks have been used to protect against COVID and other infectious illnesses. Wearing them has other benefits. Masks may keep your allergy symptoms from getting worse, or they can keep you from pollutant exposure.

NIOSH-approved masks are the most effective, though other masks may be helpful, too, depending on the type of mask. Not everyone can wear a mask, but you should wear one that has a snug, comfortable fit if you can and when necessary.

(Sources for info at original link!)

[anonymous-dentist]

Bleeding Heart Part Three

Part One | Previous Part

-

Cellbit leaves his apartment an hour after midnight, hoping to make a bad impression. He's going to be late. He's going to be rude. He's going to be annoying. He's going to be the worst person that Hombre Misterioso has ever met, and he is going to make them hate him and never want to associate with him again.

The aquarium is clear across the city from Cellbit's apartment, and the busses don't run this late at night (especially not in the Favela.)

So, naturally, Cellbit skateboards, and he ignores the car following him the whole way there.

He has had just under a week to plan out exactly how this meeting is going to go. And he's sure that it's going to be the worst meeting ever. Of all time.

After a solid hour and a half of skating, he finds himself in front of the aquarium's main entrance holding his skateboard and trying not to pass out because, wow, he's out of shape. Fuck.

(The car pulls into the parking lot and idles under a broken streetlight. Inside, the driver reaches into the passenger seat and opens a backpack.)

Doubled over and struggling for breath, legs sore and shaking like jelly, Cellbit looks up at the two ceramic dolphin statues flanking the aquarium's doors. The lights at their bases paints them a bright pink, and Cellbit kind of fucking hates them, actually. (Bad memories.)

He's two and a half hours late, so he takes his time picking up his skateboard and tucking it under his arm. He takes even longer to pull out his phone and text his accomplice the first code phrase of the night:

'I'm awake.'

A few seconds later, the aquarium's doors audibly click themselves unlocked, and the security cameras hidden in the dolphins' eyes go a bit fuzzy. Their video feed will already have been looping footage from eleven p.m., but now they're also looping audio. (Or something, Cellbit never was the security guy of the team.)

With a sigh, Cellbit brushes a chunk of hair out of his eyes and behind his ear, and he enters the aquarium.

Tonight, nothing is going to happen. He's decided this. Whatever deal Hombre Misterioso wants to make with him won't happen. Nothing will happen.

Cellbit walks past the first coral reef of the building. The tank's lights are off, so he can't see the fish inside. But the emergency exit sign by the nearby bathrooms light the whole room a vibrant (beautiful) red.

Nothing will happen.

Hombre Misterioso hadn't told Cellbit where exactly in the aquarium to meet them, so he's stuck going through each and every room in order looking for them. Which. Sucks.

Even his accomplice in the car hadn't been able to find Hombre Misterioso on any of the cameras on the way to the aquarium; he'd apologized even as Cellbit asked him why he was hacking and driving at the same time, Really? That's the kind of example you're setting here? Being reckless? What'll Richarlyson think?

So Cellbit goes through the first coral reef. He passes the penguins. He walks past the freshwater fish.

...He pauses in front of the tank full of piranhas. Pygocentrus nattereri, the red-bellied piranha.

He looks at the sleeping fish. The tank is dark enough that he can see himself in its reflection, and he does not like what he sees.

His phone buzzes in his pocket:

'Isn't he cute??? 🥰😭'

And then there's a picture of Richarlyson asleep in the car's back seat snuggled up against a huge Pikachu Squishmallow and wearing one of Pac's hoodies and using it as a blanket.

Despite himself, Cellbit smiles.

His smile freezes as a gust of cold wind brushes against the back of his neck.

He spins around, phone buzzing with picture after picture after picture being uploaded to the family group chat. And he finds himself inches away from Hombre Misterioso's face.

"You're late," they plainly say.

They're so close to Cellbit that he can actually feel the faint exhales through the gas mask's filter. But, despite the proximity, he can't see their eyes. It's too dark, and the glass is too thick.

Silently, Cellbit turns his phone off with a press of the button. He slides it into his back pocket.

Hombre Misterioso's head tilts curiously to the left. "You aren't wearing a mask."

Cellbit shrugs, crossing his arms. "Figured there wasn't a point. What do you want."

It isn't a question. Cellbit already knows what they want. He's just being polite.

Hombre Misterioso doesn't move.

Cellbit blinks, and then they're crouched in front of the piranha tank poking a gloved finger against the glass repeatedly.

"-name was originally supposed to be 'Piranha'," they say, apparently in the middle of a sentence that Cellbit didn't get to hear the first part of, "but you said that that's actually some sort of slang in Brazil."

Cellbit's mind races, what? When did he...

Oh.

Cellbit snorts humorlessly. "Never let journalists name you. The Demon learned the hard way, he wanted to be called 'the Muffin Man'."

"That's terrible," Hombre Misterioso comments. They stand and turn to face Cellbit again. "I learned from you. I gave the police my name, just like you did."

"Yeah, because you're stupid," Cellbit snaps. "Why would you even contact the police?"

"Because they're stupid. They really thought that I was you."

Cellbit can practically hear their offended eye roll; he doesn't know whether he should be offended or not. No, right?

Whatever.

"Still stupid," he huffs. He can feel his phone blowing up with texts in his pocket. What is Pac doing?

Hombre Misterioso's head tilts again. This time, their entire body tilts with them as if they're trying to get a look at Cellbit's back.

"You were late," they say, "and you're communicating with someone."

They finally notice his skateboard, and they visibly double-take.

"Did you skateboard here?" they ask, looking back up at him.

Cellbit ignores them. This is a bad meeting, and nothing will happen.

"Whatever you're doing with the Federation, you should just give up," he tells them. His mouth tastes sour just from the insinuation that he's on the Federation's side, but it's fine. It's part of the plan.

Judging by the way Hombre Misterioso's shoulders tense, the plan is working.

Cellbit bites back a smirk and continues, pacing away from them and heading further into the aquarium: "It isn't worth it. They're too strong."

He turns the corner towards the manta rays, and Hombre Misterioso is by the touch tank. Waiting.

"What are you talking about?" they quietly ask, and, wow, even their voice modulator sounds offended. Perfect.

Cellbit just shrugs. "I retired for a reason, man. It's pointless to even try."

Hombre Misterioso's fists curl at their sides. "Right."

"I'm telling the truth! After Sharkboy fought me that day, I realized that there was no point in continuing to fight the Federation."

He walks calmly past Hombre Misterioso and the rays. (He makes a mental note to bring Bagi here one day soon; they can make up for lost time.)

"Enigma-"

"Enigma is dead!" Cellbit snaps. (Rude, irritable, annoying-)

He's walking into the next room as his phone actually rings.

Oh, no.

Hombre Misterioso can fuck themselves, if Cellbit's accomplice is calling, then something has gone terribly wrong.

In a flash, he has his phone out, and he has it to his ear.

"What?" he demands in Portuguese (can't take any risks...)

"I'm so sorry," Pac breathes, "I tried to stop him, but-"

Cellbit freezes. "Stop who? What happened?"

"Thank goodness the cameras are still hacked, Bagi would kill us if she got this footage..."

Ignoring Hombre Misterioso's still form in the other room, Cellbit leans against the big open doorway and puts his face in one hand with a groan.

"Calm down," he says. "Just tell me what happened. Do I-"

He's cut off mid-sentence as he hears a very familiar voice shout from the piranha room, "Stop, villain!"

And then he's dropping his phone to the floor and booking it across the room. Fuck Hombre Misterioso, fuck Hombre Misterioso, fuck the plan, fuck, fuck-!

Hombre Misterioso is still by the tank.

And then they aren't. They're running towards the door to the piranha room with their sword drawn.

And a bunch of piranhas with legs are running out of the piranha room and right towards Hombre Misterioso.

Cellbit grins proudly despite the whole Thing going on. That's his kid!

His face pales. That's his kid.

"What the fuck is this?" Hombre Misterioso demands, swinging their sword at the piranhas.

Cellbit answers by pulling out his skateboard from under his arm and swinging it right at their big stupid head. It CRACK!s against their skull and splits right down the middle, sending them staggering forward right into a piranha's jaws.

Suddenly, the aquarium's lights all turn on. That'll be Pac, then. But... why? What the fuck are the lights going to do?

Abandoning his skateboard, Cellbit runs past a very angry Hombre Misterioso and into the piranha room.

Richarlyson, standing by the tank holding his iPad, grins and waves with one hand.

"You," Cellbit hisses, running forward and scooping his son into his arms, "are so grounded."

Over Cellbit's shoulder, Richarlyson continues drawing more piranhas on his tablet. More fizzle into existence around the two of them and charge towards Hombre Misterioso.

Entirely unconcerned, Richarlyson shrugs and says, "They put you in the hospital. Fuck them."

"You were supposed to stay in the car!"

"You really thought I was gonna do that?"

Cellbit groans, "He said he was going to have you under control!"

"Get a babysitter next time. I want Uncle Bad."

"Do you know how late it is?"

"Uh, yeah. Uncle Bad lets me stay up this late all the time."

"Then Uncle Bad is grounded, too," Cellbit declares.

He manages to take one step with Richarlyson in his arms before he's being choked from behind by two very strong hands.

"Leaving so soon?" Hombre Misterioso taunts. "We haven't even gotten acquainted yet!"

Richarlyson gasps and squirms, trying to get free, but there's no way Cellbit is letting him loose in a room with a supervillain. What kind of parent would he be if he did that?

But. But he can't breathe.

(But he can smell blood.)

"Now," Hombre Misterioso muses, leaning in close, so close that Cellbit can feel their voice rumble down the length of his spine, "who do we have here?"

Frantically, Cellbit's eyes flick towards the room's security camera. Pac, hello? Fucking hello?

Richarlyson responds by smashing his iPad into Hombre Misterioso's face.

They shout in alarm and recoil, hands momentarily lifting from off of Cellbit's neck.

But that moment is all Cellbit needs.

He spins and takes off in the opposite direction from the entrance. It'll loop around eventually, he knows it.

As he brushes past Hombre Misterioso, he subtly extends a hand towards their body, and then he closes said hand into a fist. He runs, and he gets farther away, and he pulls, and-

And Hombre Misterioso is in front of him with their sword pointed directly at his chest- at Richarlyson's back.

At Richarlyson's back.

Cellbit skids to a stop. He takes a step backwards.

Hombre Misterioso follows him, step for step, inch for inch, head slowly cocking to the side with every passing second.

"I see," they lowly say.

They laugh, slowly. Deliberately. "Hah. Hah. Hah."

Teeth grit, Cellbit adjusts his hold on his son- one-handed.

(He can smell blood.)

He whispers, "Be ready to run back to the car. And take the board with you."

Richarlyson grumbles, but he knows better than to argue when it comes to the skateboard; it's sacred.

To Hombre Misterioso, Cellbit says, "Fun fact, piranhas are actually pretty chill animals. They're omnivores."

"Cool," Hombre Misterioso responds. "But what about you?"

By his side, Cellbit's hand angles itself towards Hombre Misterioso's body. They're bleeding somewhere...

"Oh," Cellbit mildly answers. "I like meat."

For whatever reason, Hombre Misterioso pauses at that. And it's a real pause, not one of their... weird pauses.

That's fine! Perfect, even.

In one swift, motion, Cellbit turns on his heel and ducks towards the ground. With one arm, he puts Richarlyson on the floor. With the other he closes his hand into a fist, and he jerks his arm back as if he's shooting a bow and arrow.

Immediately, blood comes shooting out of a wound on the back of Hombre Misterioso's thigh, hidden by their cloak but absolutely caused by Richarlyson's drawings.

They cry out in pain and crumple to the ground, dragged down by their own blood as it ties itself around the leg of a nearby bench into a knot, signaled by a flick of Cellbit's wrist.

"Go!" Cellbit shouts, not looking behind himself.

He hears Richarlyson run for it, little feet tapping against the floor.

And then, it's just him and Hombre Misterioso once again.

Sniffing back a nosebleed, Cellbit stands. He wobbles on his feet slightly, but he manages to walk past Hombre Misterioso and towards his abandoned phone. He picks it up and sighs at the cracked screen.

Great.

Hombre Misterioso struggles to stand, but the blood rope keeps them on the floor.

"I told you before," Cellbit tells them, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "I'm not interested in helping you."

He looks at them and shakes his head.

"I can connect you with the Order," he continues, "but that's as far as I'm willing to go. I'm done. With... with all this."

Hombre Misterioso's grip on their sword tightens.

And then they laugh, tossing their sword to the side and collapsing onto their belly on the floor.

Cellbit takes a hesitant step backwards, body tensing as they just laugh and laugh and laugh.

"Good!" they cackle. "Good! You've still got conviction! I'm impressed, Enigma!"

"There is no Enigma. There hasn't been in years, and there never will be again."

"Mhmm, I get that. But you've convinced me. I don't need Enigma anymore."

(As they look up at him, Cellbit swears that they're smiling.)

"I just need you."

With that, the aquarium's lights shut off again, probably Pac trying to help.

Cellbit's eyes adjust to the darkness. When he can see again, Hombre Misterioso is gone, and a trail of blood is left where they laid on the floor.

...Fuck.

---

A/N: Let me know what you think in the tags or in my inbox! I want to hear your theories, thoughts, opinions, everything!

[ahsokatroi]

Tim Drake wouldn’t get help for his experience as JJ. Oh he’d want to, he’d want to address anything that could hinder his ability to do his job as a vigilante-detective. But with the unfortunate lack of therapists who are in-the-know, he would be left with no options. So he would dissociate, bottle it up, and pretend it’s not an issue. He would be scary good at hiding it, so much that it wouldn’t take long for him to convince even Bruce that he’s over it.

Then one day on patrol, he gets hit with fear toxin and his mask isn’t able/available to filter it. His ears are flooded with echoing maniacal laughter. His skin itches and burns, remembering the chemicals. His muscles twitch and spasm, remembering the electrocution. He tries unsuccessfully to keep himself from hyperventilating, and the gasps quickly turn into something else. Soon, his eyes are frozen wide with terror as he chokes on laughing sobs.

From here it could go one of two ways, and both of them hurt.

Option 1:

Jason of all people is the one who finds him or is there with him. His helmet filters out the toxin, so he’s unaffected. He gets Tim out of danger and gets him somewhere safe. Tim just barely manages to pull a syringe out of his belt and give it to Jason. His hands are trembling too much to give himself the antidote. Jason of course knows what it is, and quickly pushes it into his arm. Tim almost breaks the needle with how hard he flinches.

The burning in his skin fades to a mild sting, and his muscles no longer twitch in response to a memory. The echoes of maniacal laughter slowly fade from his ears, and his diaphragm finally stops forcing laughter through his airway. All that remains are the sobs. And they don’t stop.

Jason hasn’t moved, hasn’t let go of his brother’s arm. He doesn’t really know what to do. He doesn’t know what the toxin forced Tim to relive, and the two of them don’t exactly have a wholesome history. He worries that Tim is reliving his attack on Titan’s Tower. Which is why he becomes frozen in shock when Tim grabs at his jacket with shaking hands and places his head on Jason’s chest.

Jason is confused and somewhat worried for his brother’s sanity, but he doesn’t break the hug. He doesn’t know that Tim sees the same thing as Jason when confronted with his worst fear. He doesn’t know that for Tim, fear wears a bleached-white face and blood-red lips and green hair. He doesn’t know that the reason his brother turned to him for comfort is because he understands what it’s like to be broken by the Joker.

All Jason knows is that Tim needed comfort and turned to him for it. So he wraps his arms around his brother and lets him cry into his chest.

Option 2:

No one is there. Tim crawls and staggers away from the gas, dizzy and unable to catch his breath through the suffocating laughter. He leans against a wall in an alley, and slides to the ground. He fumbles with the clasps on his gauntlet, then pulls it off with his teeth when they come undone. He struggles to keep his hand still enough to pull the antidote out of his pocket. He has to brace himself on the wall to keep his hand somewhat steady, but he manages to stick the syringe into his vein and push the plunger down.

He loses track of time while he sits there, curled against an alley wall, sobbing. After what seems like hours, he finally picks his head up from its position on his arms, and he breathes. He focuses on making his lungs even out and pace themselves, hiccuping every now and then.

He sniffs, clearing his runny nose, and pulls himself up on trembling legs. He takes a few more deep breaths, then heads toward his motorcycle.

By the time he reaches the cave, the cold air has eased the redness in his face and his muscles have stopped shaking. He parks his bike and makes his way to the computer to fill out his report, but doesn’t remove his mask. Bruce reads the report, and asks about the fear toxin. Most people wouldn’t be able to hear the concern in his voice. Tim isn’t most people. But he’s fine. The toxin didn’t have any lasting physical side effects, and the mental ones are nothing he hasn’t dealt with before. So he brushes off Bruce’s concern, saying he got away without being touched by the toxin. Bruce gives him a long look, then hm’s and turns back to the computer.

Tim heads for the shower, and rinses off the last evidence that his eyes had ever shed tears that night. He goes to his room afterward, and sits with his computer, determinedly avoiding sleep. Dreading the moment his body forces him into unconsciousness, where the Joker long ago took up residence.

[downundergarfield]

hello! may i request a s/o that loves to give hugs and kiss to mercenaries? i think it would be cute!!(thank you in advance!)

Hiii, lovely anon! Here's what I came up with!

I've tried to follow a certain pattern. First, hugs in front of everyone, the second kisses in front of everyone and the third - kisses and hugs in private, hope you enjoy

S/O who loves to give hugs and kisses to mercs

Scout ⚾

- He's surprised every time you hug him, he giggles and hugs you back. He is a very loving boy!

- Jeremy blushes deeply every time you kiss him. He screams and hides his face in his cap if you do it in front of everyone. "-AAH, Stop, Y/N, im not cute!!"

- when you kiss him alone, he turns into melted cheese and spreads in pleasure while you caress his cheeks and lips. He loves kissing you. He misses it so much. You fill his need for love with your love and hugs and kisses

Soldier 🦅

- He always says that real soldiers don't need these endearments. But when you hug him in spite of this, he hugs you tighter than anything! The soldier is proud of you and will tell everyone that only he has the right to hug you. He loves it when you hug him patting his broad back.

- When you kiss this noisy American, he becomes even more noisy "- SHE/HE/THEY KISSED ME!!!! EVERYONE!!!! KISSED ME, ONLY MEEE HAHAHAAAA". He is so proud that you love to caress him that way

- in private, he loves your kisses and will kiss back, not letting go for a long time, because he really likes your lips. He will hug you like a pillow, putting his legs up at yours and all that

Pyro 🔥

- They love all that! So they will hug you back, tight, tight, maybe even tighter than you yourself, because they are absolutely happy to hug you

-You kiss them in a gas mask when they gently touch your cheeks with a filter, imitating a kiss. They are not shy about it in public, at all!

- Pyro is a big hugger, when you hang out alone, draw or play, they will hug you very often, and moo happily when you hug them back. They are not hungry for touch, they just really like it.

Demoman 💣

- he breaks into a satisfied smile every time you hug him. He adores your tactility and love of hugs.

- When he is sober, he will only blush a little and be embarrassed, smiling and looking away "-ooh, Laddy, come on, not in front of everyone..."

But when he is in his usual condition, as soon as you kiss him on the cheek, he will firmly grab and kiss you on the lips in response.

- of course he will hug you back in private. When you are alone, he turns into the most loving person in the world, you often lie in an embrace glued together like two dumplings while he showers your forehead with kisses.

Heavy 🐻

- it's hard not to hug him, isn't it? The big, stern Siberian loves it when you hug him. He often hugs you back, hugging you tightly with his big hands.

- he blushes when you kiss him in front of everyone. But he smiles and pats you on the head "-milaya, not at work...you make me blush"

- when you are alone, he likes to put you on his lap and read you different books, sometimes he translates books from Russian for you, kisses the top of your head and hugs you tightly.

Engineer 🔧

- this Texan doesn't mind hugging you back. He loves it when you hug him and will gladly hug you back. He is not embarrassed when you hug him in front of everyone, he is happy to show the others that you are happy to be together

- If you kiss him in front of everyone, he will blush and laugh good-naturedly, kissing you back. Even if it's at work, just be careful and choose the right moment.

- In private, he likes it when you hug him. He thinks it's cute when you take off his hardhat to kiss him on the forehead. He likes to cuddle with you on his mechanical chair

Medic 💉

- When you hug him in front of everyone, he becomes the happiest person in the world. He will willingly hug you back.

- if you kiss him, he will blush and will vigorously ask for more. He likes the shape, texture and taste of your lips. Especially on his own lips

- in private, he will be so happy with your hugs. He likes to walk with his bare hands on your back counting every rib and praising you for your lovely body every time.

Sniper 🏹

- Try to catch the moment when this guy will be in front of everyone. But if you hug him at some general meeting, he will blush and hide it under his hat. The sniper will not move until the end of the meeting, so as not to scare you away, so that you continue to hug him.

- if you kiss him at the meeting. Dude, you'll make him blush deeply and hide behind a hat until the very end

"- Y/n. Its a wrong time, drongo."

- damn it, private, he will beat you in the love of hugs. He literally won't let go of you. This man is a real professional in hugging. Be sure, sometimes, private, he will just pile on you about and without, hugging for hours. He loves to kiss you, he will kiss you even more than you. He's so happy that you love it all too.

"-This is what I needed, Roo..."

Spy 🍷

- you like to hug him in front of everyone because he reacts to it, so snobbish "-Y/N, stop. You will rumple my suit.." he will look away and push you away a little, trying not to offend. It's a pity that his ski mask hides his blush

- if you kiss him in front of everyone (of course, if you manage to catch the moment when he is without a cigarette in his mouth), he will cover his face with his hands. "-Oh, please, not in front of everyone, je t'en prie..."

- in private, he discards it all. Alone, he won't let go of your lips and will kiss and hug you for all the things you teased him with all day.

He smells of cigarettes and wine. What happens in his smoking room is not worth comparing with what happens in front of everyone

[moonlight0934]

Crocodile Tears

Damian punches the last goon in the face before turning back to his brothers. Tim and Dick are both done dealing with their goons too which means the only target left is Joker himself, and Bruce went after him a while ago. Tim drops his staff, causing Dick and Damian to just stare at him.

“Sorry, my hand seized up,” Tim says, his face red.

Damian laughs.

“That’s ridiculous. You’re a vigilante, and you just dropped your weapon?”

Tim grumbles something as he grabs his staff.

“Shut up.”

Damian huffs, and turns away.

“We should go give Batman backup,” he says after a quiet second.

“You know that he doesn’t want us going after Joker,” Dick says.

“So what? He’s not that much better. He could die,” Damian replies, folding his arms.

“As much as I want to trust him, he doesn’t have the best track record,” Tim says.

“Fine, let’s go find him.”

Damian nods.

“He turned his tracker off when he went to find Joker. So, we should split up and look for him,” Tim says, pulling up a map of the city. “Nightwing, you take this area, while Robin can take the other one. I’ll go over to the harbor.”

“Are you alright with that?” Dick asks.

Damian nods again.

“That sounds acceptable. I will radio if I find anything.”

They disperse, and Damian heads to his area of the city. There’s an abandoned apartment building that has a few lights on. At first, Damian thinks he’s found the fight between Batman and Joker. However, as he gets closer, he realizes that there’s no way. It’s far too quiet, and there isn’t much noticeable movement from inside. Damian still walks into the building, and he takes the stairs since he doesn’t know for sure that anything is happening.

Damian slips into the apartment with the lights on, and sees the weirdest scene in front of him. Jason, who hadn’t been responding to their attempts at communication since Joker started attacking, is sitting across the table from Scarecrow. Damian immediately holds his breath as they both turn to look at him. Damian slips his filtered mask on his face as Jason smiles.

“Hey Baby Bat, what are you doing here?”

“Hood what are you doing?”

Damian types out an SOS message on his communicator. It explains that he’s with Scarecrow, and he doesn’t know the situation.

That should warn them to wear a mask. Who knows what I’ve already been exposed to. It might be in the whole building.

“What do you mean? I’m talking with one of the people that lost their homes in the recent arson cases. I’m going to help him if I have the opportunity.”

Damian narrows his eyes.

“No, you’re not. That’s Scarecrow.”

Scarecrow smiles at Damian.

“Well, it seems that you didn’t breathe in the gas that’s coating this room. That was very smart of you. I guess I’m just going to have to give you a shot of it so you can tell whatever backup you have that it was a false alarm.”

“What?” Jason asks, his eyes slightly glassed over.

“Can you give this to him?” Scarecrow asks, holding a syringe out to Jason. “It’s a vaccine for something that’s been going around this area. You wouldn’t want your brother to catch it, would you?”

Jason takes it, shaking his head.

“Come here.”

Damian shakes his head.

“Hood, snap out of it.”

Jason continues walking towards him. Damian takes a step back, his eyes trained on Scarecrow.

“Come on, it’s not that bad. It’s just a shot. You’ve never thrown a tantrum about a shot before.”

“I don’t throw tantrums!” Damian cries, obviously offended.

Jason grabs his arm, but Damian kneecaps him. He twists his arm away from Jason, and storms over to Scarecrow. Damian grabs Scarecrow’s collar, but Jason tackles him before he can do anything.

“What is wrong with you? Attacking a civilian?” Jason demands, anger coloring his tone.

“Shut up, and get off of me!” Damian cries, trying to push Jason off of him.

Jason is about to stick the needle into his arm when the door slams open. Dick comes in, and stares at both of them.

“Get off of him!” Dick says, his tone hard. Dick’s eyes start to glass over slightly.

“Put your mask on,” Damian demands, then drives his knee into Jason’s stomach.

Jason stumbles, leaning against the wall, and Damian climbs out from underneath him.

“Why would I need a mask? You and Hood need to stop fighting, and get along.”

“Because of Scarecrow!”

“Scarecrow isn’t here, Da-”

Damian is across the room in an instant, and he presses his hand against Dick’s mouth.

“Were you just about to say my name in costume?” Damian hisses, his eyes dark.

“Calm down. It’s just us, Hood, and some civilian. I’m sure he won’t say anything.”

“That’s not a random civilian, that’s Scarecrow. Either way, you shouldn’t be saying my name in front of civilians.”

“Did you hit your head?”

Jason climbs to his feet, but he looks confused.

“What was I doing?”

“You were just about to sedate Robin because he attacked me,” Scarecrow says, putting on his best scared voice. He sniffles, and a single tear rolls down his face.

“Can you just put the burlap sack back on your head, because you are the ugliest crier I’ve ever seen,” Damian snaps before turning back to Dick.

“Robin, you can’t talk to people like that. Is that true, Hood? Did Robin attack him, and were you trying to sedate him?”

Jason looks down at the syringe in his hand, and then nods. Scarecrow continues fake crying in the background.

They’re both really high by now, so I have to figure out how to restrain both of them, and not let Scarecrow get away. This is going to be difficult, but I have to figure something out before someone else shows up without a mask.

Dick grabs Damian by the shoulders.

“You have to calm down, Robin.”

Damian glares at him, then slams his elbow into Dick’s face as hard as he can. Dick stumbles back into the wall while Jason rushes forward to grab Damian. Damian ducks, throwing a batarang at Scarecrow, who is trying to move closer to the window. It doesn’t seem like he’s actively trying to sneak away, just trying to make it easier to do if Damian does get the upper hand. The batarang hits him square in the jaw, knocking him off of his feet.

Jason goes crazy at that, and grabs Damian like he’s a rag doll. Damian almost snaps his neck, but then remembers exactly who he’s fighting. Jason slams him against the wall hard enough to crack a few of his ribs. Damian gasps.

“You just assaulted a civilian!” Jason forces Damian’s face up to lock eyes with him. “Do you understand how serious this is? I thought we were past this? You can’t keep acting like that!”

Damian blinks, all of the rational thoughts leaving his brain. Scarecrow is getting up now, wiping the tear tracks off of his face. Damian bites his lip.

“Yeah, you should be upset. You’re acting just like your grandfather.”

Jason drops Damian, and hits the floor a second later. Tim is standing behind him, a mask in place. Dick is also unconscious exactly where Damian left him. Tim knocks Scarecrow out too before turning back to Damian.

“Hey, are you ok? Did he hurt you?”

Damian shakes his head even though his ribs and back are screaming.

“Ok, well we need to get them out of here. Batman had Joker handled already. I assume that Scarecrow was trying to use the distraction to get a hold of Hood. What he planned to do after that, I’m not sure. For now though, we just need to get them home. Can you help me get Nightwing to the car?”

Damian nods again, almost mechanically at this point. Tim looks concerned, but doesn’t say anything. Once they get Jason and Dick to the infirmary, Damian doesn’t wait to hear if they’re ok, or if Bruce found out what Scarecrow wanted. He just changes, and goes straight to his room. He locks the door behind himself, and throws himself into bed. He ends up crying alone until he falls asleep, unable to get his brother’s words out of his head.

Tim drops into a chair, his whole body aching. 

“Do you know what’s going on with Damian?” Bruce asks as he checks both Jason and Dick’s IVs. 

“No, I got there right as Jason was pushing Damian against a wall. I have no idea what happened before that. I’m worried about him though, because he completely shut down earlier. I know something happened, but I’m not sure what it was.” 

“Ok, well, can you stay with them while I go check on him? There probably wasn’t any surveillance in the area, so all we can do is see if we can get him to talk.” 

Tim nods, turning his attention to his other two brothers. Bruce walks up the stairs, leaving the cave in complete silence. Bruce is gone for almost fifteen minutes, and he doesn’t look happy when he walks back in. 

“How’d it go?” 

“He was asleep when I went in there. Of course I accidentally woke him up, but he kept insisting that everything was fine. That it was just a long day, and that he was tired. I asked if he was sure that he wasn’t exposed to anything, and he said yes. That was when he kicked me out. He wasn’t standing weird, or wincing, so it probably wasn’t an injury that he’s hiding. I’ll see if I can talk him into an X-ray later, just to be sure.” 

Tim nods, his gaze distant. “What do you think happened?” he asks after Bruce is settled in between Jason Dick’s beds. 

“I don’t know. They were under the influence of Scarecrow’s newest concoction, so it could be anything. That’s more what I’m worried about. There’s no way we’re going to guess what it was, and I’m not sure exactly where to start.” 

“Well, you are the greatest detective, so I’m sure between the two of us we can figure it out,” Tim offers, trying to be uplifting. 

“Yeah, I’m just so tired. I know that we should figure this out now, but I’m so exhausted I can barely think.” 

“That makes sense. You just fought Joker by yourself, then immediately got a call saying that something had happened with three of your sons. That definitely makes for a stressful evening.” 

Bruce hums, but his eyes are still sad. “How do you think he got Jason there in the first place?” 

“Probably some kind of bait, or trap. Maybe he set up a meeting, then gassed the whole place? I’m not sure, but it definitely could be that.” 

Bruce nods. “That makes sense. We’ll talk to him later, and see what he remembers.” 

Tim forces himself to his feet, aching muscles protesting immediately. 

“Alright, well, I’m heading to bed. Let me know when they wake up.” 

He walks up the stairs, stopping by Damian’s door for a second, but ultimately deciding against knocking. He changes before flopping into bed to get some sleep. 

Damian wakes up to his ribs burning. The pain has extended from his back to his hip, and he winces as he shifts. 

I’m getting weak. I was barely able to hide my pain from Father when he came in here earlier. I can’t let myself get complacent. 

He starts stretching lightly, and the pain in his back and hip doesn’t get any better. It’s still dark outside, but that doesn’t really mean anything, so he checks his phone for the time. It’s almost seven a.m., so he gently climbs back into bed. His ribs shift with the movement, and he has to bite his lip to keep himself quiet. Damian reaches out to grab his phone, then dials Jon’s number. 

He answers on the last ring, “Hey, Damian. It’s kind of early for you to be calling me on a Sunday. Is everything ok?” 

“Yes, everything is fine. I just needed someone to speak to. I know you’re busy though, so it’s ok if you don’t have time to talk.” 

“You’re just like your grandfather. You can’t keep acting like this.” 

“No, don’t worry about it. I’m not busy at all. What did you want to talk about?” 

“Anything. Can you just tell me what you’ve been up to?” 

“Yeah, but, Damian, are you sure you’re ok? I know that whatever happened, you don’t want to talk about it, but you sound like you’re in pain.” 

“It’s just a few broken ribs. It’s not a big deal.” 

“I guess there isn’t much you can do for broken ribs. Anyway, you want to know what I’ve been up to… I’ve been working with the cows. One of them kicked me the other day, and I crashed into a wall. I was fine though. It was wild. How are your friends?” 

“They’re fine. Titus is sitting outside of my door right now begging to be let in.” 

“Aw, poor guy.” 

“Yeah, but he doesn’t understand the concept of broken ribs, and he’s too big for me to trust him not to hurt me.” 

“Oh, yeah. You should definitely keep him out then. I didn’t even think about that.” Jon keeps chattering, and Damian lets his head drop back. He listens to what Jon is saying even though he’s barely processing it. He’s starting to fall asleep by the time Jon says, “Hey, I gotta go. Mom is heading up the stairs to tell me that it’s time to get ready for church. Do you want me to call you back afterwards?” 

“No, that’s alright. I’m going to get some more sleep, and then check on my family. We had an incident with Joker and Scarecrow yesterday.” 

“Is that how you got hurt?” 

“I thought we were past this?” 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what happened. I got hurt during a run in with Scarecrow. Anyway, thank you for talking with me.” 

“Yeah, anytime. Just take it easy until you’re feeling better.” 

“I will, goodbye Jonathan.” 

“Bye, Damian.” 

Damian hangs up, then shifts as slowly as he can onto his side to take pressure off of his back. He falls asleep again quickly after changing positions. He doesn’t wake up again until light is streaming into his room, which is only a couple of hours later. It’s ten by then, so Damian forces himself out of bed. He walks into the bathroom with clothes so he can get a shower. His back is purple, and his chest has a thick black line across it from Jason’s arm slamming into him. Damian winces at it, but continues what he’s doing. Once he finishes his shower, he heads down the stairs to find Tim curled up on the couch. 

“Hey, Baby Bat. Come sit with me?” 

“I was going to check on Grayson and Todd.” 

“Jason already left. He was angry and confused about yesterday. Apparently one of his people betrayed him, and he went to deal with it as soon as he woke up. You actually just missed Dick. He’s heading to the store with Bruce. I think Bruce just wanted an excuse to talk to him about something, but that just leaves us. So, come sit with me. You can talk to Dick when he gets back.” 

Damian walks over, and sits down besides Tim. Tim pulls Damian a little closer, and Damian bites his cheek to stop himself from crying out. 

“Are you alright?” he says softly. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” 

“What happened yesterday before I got there? Jason and Dick don’t remember anything after being put under the influence of that drug.” 

Damian huffs, looking away. “Was it Scarecrow? Did he do something? Was it one of the other two? I didn’t see most of it, but it did not look like Jason was being too gentle with you.” 

“He wasn’t, but I’m not a baby. I don’t need someone to coddle me, because Todd was a little aggressive. I can handle some bruises, especially since it wasn’t his fault.” The words sound hollow even to Damian’s ears. Especially the last comment, but he lets the silence continue instead of trying harder with the situation. 

“It’s ok if something did happen, buddy. You’re safe here, and you can be honest with us.” 

“I know that I can be honest with you, Timothy.” 

You’re not the problem. I could still be the same person I was when I got here, and you’d still love me. I can’t ruin whatever Todd and Father have right now. I know that they probably won’t ever kick me out, but I don’t want to ruin anything else, especially since I’m a bad person. 

“You have your thinking face on. Whatcha thinking about?” Tim asks, putting his cheek on top of Damian’s head. 

Damian lets himself relax against Tim. “Nothing. There’s a lot of thoughts running through my head, but not a lot of coherence. Can we watch something?” 

“Of course. What do you want to watch?” 

He’s letting it go for now, but I know that he’s just trying to let me come to him. What do I do now? I’m going to pretend like nothing ever happened. 

“We can just turn on whatever anime you’re currently watching.” 

Tim smirks. “Yeah, I’m sure you want to do that.” 

He grabs the remote, and turns on one of Damian’s documentaries before settling back down against the couch. He keeps an arm around Damian’s shoulders, but it’s loose now. Damian finds himself falling asleep again even as he tries to force his eyes open. Tim laughs as he runs a hand through Damian’s hair. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Damian complains, scrunching up his nose. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you just seem like you need some sleep. It was a very long day yesterday.” 

Damian rolls his eyes, but lets them drop closed after that. The door opens, startling Damian awake. He sits up, pulling away from Tim. Tim stands up, stretching. 

“That’s probably Bruce and Dick.” 

He walks to the doorway, and Dick hugs him. 

“Hey, Timmy. How’s Damian? Was he hurt last night?” 

Damian stands up as Tim answers, “No, he’s fine. He’s right behind me by the couch.” 

Dick turns away from Tim to Damian. He walks over, and wraps his arms around Damian. 

“I am so sorry about yesterday.” 

Pain flares through Damian’s body, and he has to disguise it with a frown. He doesn’t move to hug Dick back, because the thought of moving his arms feels like torture. 

“What are you referring to?” 

“When you sent out that message last night. I don’t know what was wrong with my communicator, but it didn’t give me any words. I was told that you added a message to your SOS, but I didn’t get it. That’s why I came without a mask on. I had no way of knowing that it was Scarecrow specifically.” 

“Things happen. It’s not like you broke your communicator on purpose, or something. Either way, it’s fine. This actually makes a lot more sense than you just showing up unprepared.” 

Dick smiles. “Yeah, I try not to do that. I didn’t know. I just got an SOS, and pulled up your tracker to see where you were. You’re sure that you’re alright?” 

“I will be.” 

Dick frowns, obviously a little confused. 

“I’m heading down to the cave. I have some reports to write, and it’s quiet down there.” 

He walks past them even as Bruce follows him. “Damian, can we talk?” 

“Why?” Damian asks quietly as he sits down in front of the computer. 

“You know that you can talk to me about anything, right?” 

“Hm.” 

“That’s not an answer. I need you to know that I’m here for you Damian.” 

Damian’s eyes are burning now, because even if he is, Damian will never be as important as the sons he picked. The ones that are good for things other than killing, and that were raised for better things. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Damian bitterly replies, knowing how badly that he would get punished for that if he were anywhere else. 

Bruce doesn’t scold him though, he just leaves him to work. He ends up staying down there for the rest of the day avoiding his family, which means he’s exhausted by the time Tim and Bruce come down the stairs for patrol. 

“Are you heading out?” Damian asks, keeping his eyes on the floor. 

“Yeah, but you don’t have to come. You can just rest tonight,” Bruce says, then kisses Damian on the top of the head.

“I’m going to be staying here and working comms tonight. If you need anything at all, just let me know,” Tim says, giving Damian a thin smile. 

Damian returns it, then stands up. “I think I’m going to head to bed now. I have school in the morning, and would like to be adequately rested.” 

He heads up the stairs, but he can hear Bruce say, “He’s not actually going to sleep at nine thirty, is he?” 

“Probably not. He’s probably going to read, draw, or find something else to do,” Tim replies. 

Damian doesn’t stick around for the rest of the conversation, too tired to really care. He goes up the stairs in a haze, not really paying attention to what he’s doing. Alfred is the only one in the manor right now anyway, and he’s cleaning in the living room. He still can’t completely relax, his training kicking in. However, he’s tired enough that he isn’t hyper aware of everything around him. Damian opens his door, and steps inside. He goes to take another step, but Alfred the cat walks directly underneath his foot. He pulls back fast enough not to step on him, but he also loses his balance. Something in his chest shifts again when he hits the ground, and pain overcomes all of his senses before he can even make a sound. 

Tim shifts, an uncomfortable feeling spiking his anxiety. It’s only ten, and Bruce isn’t due back for another three hours at least. Also, he’s been checking in every fifteen minutes, just like he’s supposed to. So, it can’t be him, and Tim can hear Alfred upstairs. He’s gotten quieter, but he’s obviously doing something in the kitchen. 

I really shouldn’t have expected to hear from Damian. He’s only been upstairs for half an hour, and he’s probably unwinding. I’m sure something happened, and pushing him isn’t going to make him tell me. However, I don’t normally feel like this, and this really doesn’t feel right. Something is wrong, and checking on him isn’t bad, right? I’m not going to be pushing too hard? I won’t even ask anything, I’ll just make sure that he’s ok. 

Tim stands up. “B, I’ll be right back. I’m going to check on something, and then I’ll be back.” 

“Alright.” 

He walks up the stairs, poking his head into the kitchen. Alfred is making tea. 

“Hello.” 

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, but I was just making sure that Damian wasn’t in here with you.” 

He heads up to Damian’s room, pausing at the top of the stairs. There’s an odd sound drawing his attention. It sounds kind of like a mix between gasping and gurgling. Tim jogs to Damian’s room. His door is open, and he’s on the floor. There’s blood on the floor too, a lot of it. Tim kneels down, his mind racing. 

Damian doesn’t have any obvious injuries, but there’s blood covering Damian’s face. It takes Tim a few seconds longer than it normally would to figure out what’s going on. Damian has gone quiet by then, and Tim gently picks him up. He can’t tell if Damian’s chest is rising and falling anymore. He races back down the stairs, barely pausing by the kitchen to ask Alfred to come down to the cave with him. He puts Damian down on a bed before racing over to flip off all the comms. Alfred is standing beside the bed when Tim gets back over there. 

“Call Leslie,” he says, grabbing something from a table nearby. 

Tim doesn’t look at it, think about what it is, or wait around to see what Alfred does with it. He walks back over to the computer to call Leslie. She gets there less than ten minutes after they get off the phone, and Tim is left alone in the main area of the cave. 

“Red? Are you still there?” Bruce asks, sounding confused and concerned. 

Tim reaches over to flip the comms back on from his end. “Yeah, I’m still here. You need to come home.” 

“Why, what happened?” 

“I’m not sure. I found Damian passed out upstairs. He was choking on blood, but I have no idea what actually happened.” 

“Is he alright?” Bruce asks, sounding slightly panicked. 

Tim sighs. He knows that Bruce doesn’t mean alright, he’s asking if Damian is going to be alright. 

“I don’t know. Just come back please.” 

“I’m on my way back right now,” Bruce says, and Tim drops into his chair. “Can you call Dick? He should still be in town, and he’ll want to know what’s going on,” Bruce says as Tim hears his car roar to life. 

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll see you when you get here.” 

He flips the comms back off, switching off the noise from Bruce’s end too. He has to take a minute to compose himself before he can call Dick. Surprisingly, Bruce and Dick get there around the same time, and it’s only fifteen minutes later. 

“Where’s Damian?” Dick asks as they both jog over. 

“He’s with Leslie and Alfred. I haven’t heard anything since they left with him earlier.” 

“Do we know what happened?” 

“No, we don’t,” Bruce says, putting a hand on Dick’s shoulder. “It’ll be ok, but we have to stay calm. We have to figure out what could have happened. Was there any sign of a break in?” 

“No, there wasn’t, and I think we all know what happened. He had to have gotten hurt yesterday during the fight with Scarecrow. He’s been lethargic, and slept most of today. He also hasn’t gone anywhere since then,” Tim says, folding his arms. 

“He would have said something,” Dick argues. 

“Not if something else happened while he was there. Speaking of which, I figured out how we can see what happened. Do you guys remember the cameras in the dominos? I was thinking that we could access that. I checked, and Damian keeps his on almost all the time, just like he was told to. It’s surprising, but we can watch what was happening through his mask camera,” Tim says, motioning to the computer where he had already pulled up the footage. 

Bruce nods, and the three of them walk over. Tim starts the footage, and it begins with the end of the fight against Joker’s goons. So, Tim fast forwards until Damian walks into the apartment building. They’re quiet as they watch Damian enter the apartment to find Jason and Scarecrow sitting together. They watch all the way until Jason slams Damian into the wall. They see Damian’s right hand go for Jason’s neck only to pull back at the last second. Then they hear a crack when he actually hits the wall, and Jason starts yelling at Damian. Damian doesn’t do anything to get away from Jason, and then Tim shows up. Tim pauses the video at that point, pinching his nose hard. 

“I’m going to call Jason. He needs to get down here.” 

He walks away as Dick says something softly. He can’t hear what it is, nor does he care. He calls Jason, putting the phone up to his ear. 

“What do you want, Tim?” 

“You need to come back to the cave. Now, before you protest, or argue, I’m going to remind you what I am capable of. I can make your life a living hell, starting with posting all of the pictures from my blackmail file on every social media platform around. Now, I don’t want to hear any questions, or arguments. You’re going to come here, and I’ll explain when you get here, ok?” 

Jason is quiet for a few seconds before saying, “I don’t like you threatening me, but yeah. I can be there in half an hour.” 

“Good.” 

Tim hangs up, leaning heavily against the wall. He stays there for a while, letting Dick and Bruce talk. He waits until Jason gets there to head back to the computer. 

“Jay,” Dick says, his eyes red. 

“What’s he crying about?” 

“We found Damian passed out from a punctured lung. We haven’t gotten any word on that yet, but we did find this,” Tim says, pulling up the footage again. 

He lets it play from the beginning until the end again, keeping his eyes trained on the screen instead of letting them drift towards Jason. 

“Shit, I hit the kid pretty hard, didn’t I? That was really rough of me to say. Do you think he…” 

“Took it seriously? Yeah, he did. We need to do something about this. Have some kind of conversation about this.” 

“Damn, I know that I was drugged, but I can’t believe I said that. Like, who am I to talk? He’s trying, and I think he’s trying too hard.” 

“Yes, but he’s been trying that hard to get away from his heritage. You didn’t have anything to prove, and he’s always felt like he does. I think he was quiet about his ribs because he thought it would be fine, and he was scared of what would happen between you and Bruce,” Tim says, leaning against the computer. 

Jason scrubs a hand across his face. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” 

The room gets quiet after that, and no one talks for a long while. Eventually Alfred comes back in. He looks tired. 

“How is Damian?” Bruce asks softly as Alfred approaches them. 

“He’ll be alright. He won’t wake up for a few hours though. He has seven broken ribs, and a fractured spine.” 

Damian wakes up in significantly less pain than he passed out in. He barely remembers tripping over his cat, but he can tell that he’s in the infirmary now. There’s machines recording his vitals, and an IV in his hand. Tim is sitting next to him, his head resting in his palm. Damian can hear people talking outside of the room, but he can’t tell what they’re saying. Tim blinks slowly, his eyes coming back into focus. 

“Dames, hey. How are you feeling?” 

“I’m… I’m fine, I think. What happened?” 

“Your ribs punctured your lung. I found you upstairs. The others are talking outside about what happened with Scarecrow. You had your mask camera on, so we were able to look back at everything.” 

Damian feels his face start to burn, and he looks away. 

“I’m sorry, Timothy. I failed badly.” 

Tim leans forward, putting his face into his hands. 

“No, I’m sorry. We have failed you so badly, Damian. We love you so much, and we all know that you’ve… I won’t even say changed, because it’s not accurate. You are sweet, kind, helpful, and empathetic. All of those bad habits weren’t your fault at all. The murder, anger, and violence were choices made for you. The choices you’ve made since being given any options are so different. You’re vegetarian, you rescue animals, you volunteer at multiple spots in town, and you help people every night. 

You are one of the kindest children that I’ve ever met, and people have hurt you more than any of us can understand. I know that Jason didn’t mean a word that came out of his mouth, and you need to know that too. We all have seen who you are, and we love you for it.” 

Damian sniffles, his eyes filling with tears. “Timothy.” 

“No, I need to know that you’re hearing me.” Tim grabs Damian’s hand, and Damian squeezes his eyes closed. 

“I do, but…” 

The door opens before he can continue, and Jason, Dick, and Bruce all come in. Bruce’s eyes soften upon seeing Damian. 

“Hey, we heard you talking. Good thing you woke up,” Jason says, clutching the edges of his jacket hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. 

“Todd, Grayson… Father.” 

Damian’s eyes drift back to his lap. Dick elbows Jason and he grunts. 

“Damian, I’m sorry. I know what I said, and it was completely ridiculous. I know how much our opinions mean to you, and how scared you are of turning out like your grandfather. I know that sometimes it feels like we’re stuck on a train hurtling towards something that we want to get away from so desperately. That there’s no stopping what we’ve been told we’re going to turn into, but that’s not the case.” 

“You’ve decided who you’re going to be, Damian, and I am incredibly proud of that person. I’m incredibly proud of you,” Bruce says, putting a hand on Damian’s knee. 

That’s enough to draw Damian’s gaze. “Really?” he asks, close to tears again. 

“Yes, really. I’m so proud of you, and I love you so much. You’re my child, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.” 

“But you didn’t want-” 

Bruce flinches. “I do want you. I was shocked when you first showed up, but I do want you. I’m not always the best at telling you how I feel, but you are extremely important to me.” 

“You’re important to all of us. Which is why you need to tell us if something happens in the future. You could have died, Damian. You can’t hide injuries just because you think it’s going to get someone in trouble. Also, Jason wasn’t in control of himself. He’s not going to get in trouble for something he can’t help. He’s going to beat himself up about it for the rest of eternity, but no one else will,” Dick says, and Jason elbows him this time. 

“He’s right though. Not just when you get injured, but you can’t hide any of it. You need to tell us when you’re not feeling good,” Bruce says seriously. 

Damian nods. “I understand. I know I shouldn’t have lied, but I don’t want to be a problem anymore.” 

“You are not a problem, and you never have been. You’re a child who needs the love and support of his family. That’s what we’re here for.” 

Damian turns to Tim, who gives him a supportive smile. 

“Ok, I won’t hide anything anymore. Thank you.” He doesn’t look at anyone when he says it, but his eyes soften. 

“Also, I’m sorry that I laid hands on you. I know that what I said was the more important part, but those were some pretty nasty injuries you got,” Jason says, frowning deeply. 

“Stop moping, you’re annoying me. It wasn’t your fault anyway. I’m glad that neither you nor Grayson had any long term effects from the drugs.” 

Jason smirks. “Of course that was what you were worried about.” 

Damian also smiles. Recovery is going to be a long road, but maybe it won’t be as hard as Damian thought it was going to be.

[wolveria]

What We Did on Felucia - Ch 1

Pairing: The Bad Batch x f!Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, sex pollen

Event: Paired with my amazing artists @binkyisonline and @phantasmagoriatime for the @clonebang event!

Summary:

Springing a trap in a Separatist lab shouldn’t be a problem. Your squad is the most prestigious in the GAR, even if they are a bit extreme in their methods, and fighting their way out of a corner is what they do best. It’s fortunate their tactics are so unconventional; as the heavy, potent gas pours into the lab, you soon learn there’s only one way out. And you won’t be fighting.

AO3

The thick set of blast doors closed behind you, and the entire squad turned to face it, blasters raised a second too late to avoid the trap.

“That’s not ideal,” Tech commented. Hunter turned to him with a tilt of his helmet.

“Can you get it open?”

Tech wasn’t given the opportunity to try; a soft hiss came from above, followed by a dispersion of gas or vapor. It carried a sucrose flavor, like the nectar from the moon flowers on your home planet.

You covered your mouth with your robe’s sleeve, but you were too late once again. Heat flushed under your skin and your senses burned from the gas, the residue sticking to your throat. A hand spun you by the shoulder, and Tech held the back of your head as he swiftly placed an air mask over your mouth.

You breathed in relief, the oxygen mixture easing the sickly-sweet fragrance from your nose. Unfortunately, it lingered on your tongue.

“Thank you, Tech.”

He set his pack on one of the nearby tables, having taken it off to get out the mask. It seemed you were in another lab. Tech’s method of “alternate egress” through the Separatist compound had led you somewhere that decidedly wasn’t an exit.

“That may be premature, General.” He held the datapad close to his face, his brows furrowed. “It appears we’ve been dosed with the experimental formula.”

The mission had been off from the start, even more than your missions usually went. You’d received intel that the base contained an experimental droid unit, not a biological weapon. But when Echo had spotted the formula buried deep in encryption, Hunter had given his approval to download all the information he could find.

You should have pulled them sooner. A disturbance in the Force tugged at the edges of your mind with every step, and you had ignored it. You thought you could get your men out in time.

And now, they would pay for your mistake.

“But we should be fine with our helmets, right?” Hunter faced Tech, but by the slight angle of his head, he was noting you and your lack of protection.

“The molecules of this chemical are incredibly small, and therefore designed to bypass the filtering system on all Phase II clone armor. So… no. We are not fine.”

“Tech,” you said with a slow turn of your head, “what does it do?”

He didn’t bother to look up, his focus still on the datapad.

“I shall know momentarily. There is a staggering amount of data to sort, but I may have good news. The effects, such as they are, should be slower to present themselves in us, seeing as we had a smaller initial dose than you, General.”

Wrecker mumbled under his breath, “That’s the good news?”

You approached the blast door that had locked you all inside, ignited your lightsaber, and thrust forward. Your blade bounced off its surface, sparking at the contact, and a brief shimmer rippled underneath.

“Ray shielded.” Hunter lowered his blaster with a tired sigh. “Not getting out that way.”

“Great,” Echo said, folding his arms. “How do we counter this chemical?”

“We cannot,” Tech answered.

“There must be something we can do!”

Tech finally looked up from his datapad, giving Echo a look that might have been curiosity or annoyance.

“I take no offense at your tone, seeing as you have no control over it.”

“What did you say?”

Echo stalked across the room at an alarming pace, but Hunter got between them before you could intervene and put a calming hand on his shoulder.

“Tech, explain.”

“Besides the general, Echo will be affected first. He has less organic body mass than we do. Less mass means a greater concentration of the chemical from the initial dose.” Tech tried to push his goggles up his nose, but seeing that they were inside his helmet, he didn’t move them very far. “And, well, being once again subjected to Separatist experimentation is understandably putting you in a foul mood. Heightened aggression is one symptom of this chemical.”

You sat on one of the tables, the clear mask fogging from your panting breath, and you envied them for having sweat glands. You shouldn’t be this hot, not when the laboratory had been cold a moment ago.

“What are the other symptoms?” It had been a long time since you’d felt this level of nervousness, maybe since you were a Padawan. Or at least, when you were asked to lead this squad of unconventional clone commandos.

“Increased body temperature, which I believe you are experiencing, and a heightened state of aggression, as we have witnessed in Echo. Also, a remarkable increase in libido.”

When the rest of the squad stared at him, Tech added, “Arousal.”

“Yeah, we got that,” Wrecker grumbled.

Crosshair, who had remained unusually silent so far, leaned against one of the walls with his arms folded, feigning a casualness that didn’t reach his voice. He spoke as if through clenched teeth, a faint growl underlying his tone.

“How do we stop it.”

“As I told you, there’s no stopping it.” Tech frowned at them, one by one. “The molecule has entered our bloodstreams and crossed the blood-brain barrier to affect our hormone levels—”

You doubled over, catching the choked gasp before it could get very far, and a hand rested on your shoulder. You gave Wrecker a weak smile and sat upright once the discomfort passed, and he snatched his hand back as if burned. Unusual for the affectionate clone, but you didn’t need to see his face to sense the embarrassment radiating from him.

There was something else as well, and it wasn’t just him. A sense of mortification perforated the room as Tech’s third symptom began to surface. You pulled the Force close around you, not wanting to sense… that from them.

“Is it fatal?”

Your question broke through his scientific curiosity, or maybe it had been your outward sign of distress, because when Tech looked at you his eyes held a softness they lacked before.

“No. At least, I see no record of any deaths during the experiments, but… we will eventually be forced to alleviate the symptoms as they will grow exponentially more intense.”

At least you would survive, though you weren’t sure what survival would look like. Another wave of heavy warmth flushed through your abdomen, and your claws dug into the edges of the table hard enough to dent the metal.

“Alleviate the symptoms how?”

“Well.” He squinted. “The solution is obvious.”

Apparently, it wasn’t obvious to you. He sighed.

“The biochemical stimulates the part of the brain that controls arousal, and in order to mitigate the worst effects, one must find release of a similar nature.”

Tech was again caught in the middle of their focused silence.

“An orgasm. Specifically, through sex.”

“You’re kidding me,” Echo said, dragging a hand down his face.

“I’m afraid not.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, striving to breathe in regular deep rhythms and not think about what Tech had just suggested. It wasn’t an option. It couldn’t be.

“What happens if we do nothing, Tech?”

“We will go into a ‘black out’ state,” he answered without skipping a beat. “In which case, we will have intercourse anyway, with no recollection of the event. We will have no conscious control of our actions, and as a result… injuries are likely as a result of lack of care.”

“That’s not happening,” Hunter said, and even with your gaze focused on the floor, you sensed his attention on you. You were grateful they still donned their helmets, even if you could sense their agitation, it would be harder to see it on their faces. Tech’s expressive eyes were difficult enough to witness, unable to hide his reluctance despite his clinical words.

“Why would the separatists create something like this?” you asked. “What could they possibly use it for?”

The reason didn’t matter, not right now, but agitation bubbled under your skin. It wasn’t like you. You’d learned to control and focus your emotions long ago, as all Jedi Masters should, but this was an itch… no, a set of claws under your skin, trying to dig itself free.

“Ah, that I can answer,” Tech said and tapped a few keys. “It was designed for use on humanoids. Clones, specifically.”

“What?” Hunter asked, his voice far away.

“It’s an effective means of biological warfare. Droids would be immune, but clone troopers and their Jedi generals would succumb to the symptoms and seek relief. It would be an immediate Republic defeat on whatever battlefield it is used.”

No one spoke. Your stomach twisted into roiling knots, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the information or the chemical. But you had to ask, especially when no one else did.

“What… happens then?”

“According to the observation logs, the test subjects are compelled to copulate with those physically closest to them, and then they fall unconscious immediately after reaching completion. It is quite ingenious, actually. Whether the chemical is subverted through orgasm or allowed to run its course, the troopers and Jedi generals would be effectively disarmed and distracted.”

“They actually did this to people?” Echo asked with a wrinkle of his lips.

“Well, yes. How else would you perform an experiment without test subjects?”

Echo launched himself at Tech and punched him across the helmet before Wrecker could grab hold of him, lifting him so he couldn’t land another blow. You sensed the stress radiating from Hunter, and you shared it. The Batch were a volatile mix on a good day, but tempers flaring this quickly meant you were running out of time.

“Echo, stand down!” Hunter snapped.

“Yes, sir.”

Echo shook off the bigger clone, shooting one last look at Tech before finding a corner to pace in.

You stood from the table.

“We have to get out.”

“Agreed,” Hunter said.

Tech rubbed the side of his helmet while Wrecker kept a watchful eye on their seething brother. You and Hunter walked the perimeter of the room from opposite sides, reaching out with your senses while he focused his, but there was… nothing. The room was heavily fortified and clearly designed to contain dangerous experiments.

After doing his own sweep, though you doubted this was his first and he was just as thorough as you and Hunter, Tech put down his datapad and met your eye.

“There are no access panels, and I cannot breach the security system remotely. There is only one exit, and that door won’t open by force. Our only means of leaving this room is if the enemy opens the door.”

“And why would they do that?” Crosshair sneered, still in a bad mood, but weren’t you all.

“They will when we’re unconscious.”

“But you said we would have to…” Hunter couldn’t finish the sentence, so Tech did it for him.

“Have intercourse until we reach completion?”

“Call it what it is.” Crosshair pulled the toothpick from his mouth and jabbed it in Tech’s direction. “We have to fuck or be fucked until we come.”

Tech’s returning glare was decidedly un-Tech-like.

“That is what I said.”

You took off your outer robes, the heat unbearable, and besides that… they would only get in the way.

“Then there’s no reason to wait.” You pulled off the oxygen mask and held it out to Tech, and he stared for a moment before taking it from you. In fact, they all stared at you.

“Unless you’re willing to do this with each other, then it’s going to have to be me.”

Crosshair’s grin was quick and sharp.

“I certainly prefer you over them.”

“Don’t talk to the General that way!”

Crosshair gave Echo a smile that could have been lazy if it wasn’t full of so much intention and spite.

“Admit it, reg. You’re as eager to fuck our Jedi as the rest of us.”

“Stow it, Crosshair,” Hunter commanded through his teeth. Any other day, such an order would have been delivered without actual fire behind it. It was a bad sign when it sounded like Hunter actually wanted to throttle Crosshair.

Of course, Crosshair had never said anything like that to you before, but you dismissed it as the effects of the chemical. You were certainly having your own problems, and you braced against the table again, trying to be subtle and not show just how unsteady you were. Your legs had taken up a series of fine trembles, and the pressure between your legs grew stronger with each minute that passed.

“So,” you picked up when the silence grew too heavy, “the plan. Once we wake up, wherever and whenever that is, we find a way to escape.”

Hunter stepped forward, a hand outstretched.

“Whoa, hold on. We’re not going to… There has to be another way.” He turned to Tech, his posture open and beseeching. “You understand this chemical, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t you make a cure?”

“With what laboratory, Hunter? The one we are currently occupying that happens to be empty of equipment, viable samples, or a working terminal? All things I would need to replicate the chemical, let alone create an antiserum? That laboratory?”

Silence filled the room. Even Crosshair turned his head to stare at Tech. You’d never heard Tech angry at Hunter before. Annoyed, yes, but Tech got annoyed with everyone.

Tech sighed, and his shoulders slumped.

“I… apologize. It appears I am not immune to the effects of the chemical.”

You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, and even though your palm was over armor, Tech startled as if you’d poked him with a live wire. You lifted your hand from his pauldron and kept your voice low and calm.

“We wouldn’t have any information if it wasn’t for you. At least now, we have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.” You met Hunter’s gaze and spoke a little louder. “We’re out of options. I don’t see another path, but I’m not giving the order. It’s your squad, Hunter. Whatever you decide, I’ll follow.”

He was skilled at hiding his emotions, but you sensed his resolve waver, and worse, the loss of hope as he expelled a quiet breath.

“Then… this is what we do. And we deal with the consequences later.”

Without waiting for another prompt, you untied the sash around your waist and peeled off your inner robes, letting them fall to the floor. All that remained was your body suit.

You held your lightsaber hilt in both hands and held it up to Tech, trying not to let the regret touch your voice. Regret that you led them to this. Regret that you hadn’t done more.

“Will you hold onto this for me? I don’t wish to lose it.”

Tech looked from your face to your hands, and with uncharacteristic hesitation, took the hilt from where it lay across your palms. He held it with great care, as if he held your life in his hands, which he did. And soon, he would hold your life in his hands in a different way.

They all would. And it would be no different than any other mission where you trusted each other to make it out alive. That’s what you told yourself. Had to tell yourself. If you faltered… who else would get them home?

As Tech gently tucked the hilt in his pack, Wrecker broke the silence with a meek, “Are you sure about this, General?” He rarely addressed you so formally, a sign of how delicately he treated the situation, but his low voice trickled up your spine in a way he didn’t intend.

“It’s better to do this under our own volition before our choices are completely stolen from us.” But as you gripped the zipper at the top of your body suit, Hunter cut in, his palms raised and his voice on the edge of panic.

“Wait, maybe there’s a way around it. If it’s just an orgasm that fixes it, then—”

As soon as Hunter pulled the helmet off his head, his expression shifted from concern to shock. And then it hardened into something animal, untamed, and with a snarl, he launched at you.

Crosshair was on him in a flash, putting him in a headlock and stopping Hunter’s forward momentum even as he reached out for you, his teeth bared as his eyes fixed on you, predatory and hungry.

Tech and Echo both moved in front of you, blocking Hunter’s way in case Crosshair couldn’t hold him, and Tech cried out, “Helmet!”

Wrecker understood immediately and grabbed Hunter’s helmet, thrown to the ground and forgotten, and forced it over his head. As soon as the seal fixed in place with a hiss, Hunter went lax, half-held up in Crosshair’s hold.

“And that,” Tech said quietly, “is why we cannot wait any longer.”

“I’m… I’m sorry.” Hunter’s panting was hard enough to be picked up by his voice modulator, and he got to his feet with a surprising lack of mocking on Crosshair’s part. He tilted his helmet in your direction, his posture the equivalent of an apologetic wince. “I don’t know what… what happened. I wasn’t… in control.”

You hadn’t moved through the entire event, frozen in place. Even now, your heart raced as you had to swallow the excess saliva in your mouth, and your legs trembled in what you wished was fear.

“Your enhanced senses will make this worse for you,” Tech said. Hunter huffed but continued to catch his breath.

“Yeah, I got that.”

Tech fixed him with a narrow side eye, but then he addressed the rest of the group.

“Hunter’s line of inquiry is a good one—”

“That would be a first,” Crosshair sneered.

“—but unfortunately, the chemical was designed to dissipate with genital-to-genital contact only. Fellatio, cunnilingus, or any other variation of orgasm will not be enough, including self-stimulation.”

“Wow,” Wrecker said, “the Seppies think of everything.”

“If we’re doing this, I think it’s best we keep helmets on. Armor too.” Echo glanced at the others for signs of disagreement. There was none. You knew it was in case the Separatists decided to attack, which wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, but you also suspected making this as clinical as possible would be easier for everyone.

You dragged down the zipper for the upper half of your body suit, the noise drawing the attention of Echo and Tech, both of them glancing over their shoulders. Echo quickly faced forward again, giving the illusion of privacy. It was sweet, in its own way.

Tech also looked away, burying his face in the upturned glow of his datapad.

You gathered your resolve but didn’t remove the suit yet, and it was only through years of training and discipline that your voice didn’t waver when you asked, “Who’s first?”

The men shared another nervous round of glances, but it wasn’t all dread and guilt that radiated from their thoughts. Restless agitation and desire were beginning to gain momentum, and for a squad that often flouted the rules and acted unprofessionally, they hid their physical reactions very well. You might have been proud, given other circumstances.

“Echo. The molecule will be most concentrated in his tissues.” Tech kept his eyes downward on the screen. “Then Wrecker—”

“Why me?!”

Hunter, who had finally regained his composure, said, “Because whoever purges the chemical soonest will wake up the earliest. And we’re going to need your strength to get us out of this, wherever we wake up.”

“Correct,” Tech said, and Hunter turned to face him.

“Which means you should be next, Tech.”

“I volunteer to go last.”

“Why?”

Tech met your eye with reluctant slowness.

“I wish to make sure the… event goes as smoothly as possible, considering what it is we will be doing.”

That too was sweet in its own way, and you appreciated the gesture and thoughtfulness that went into his planning. Tech always tackled his projects with a careful exactness, even if that same care didn’t translate to tactics on the battlefield. You’d lost count of Tech’s reckless, chaotic strategies that sent ripples through the Force warning of imminent, bodily harm, only for him to slip away unscathed.

None of you would be making it out of this unscathed, and you could see in his worried gaze that Tech understood that. So for him to offer to endure it the longest—

“And what we’ll be doing is fucking our Jedi.”

“You just keep bringing that up, don’t you,” Echo stated through his teeth. “Any reason for that?”

Crosshair’s sneer could be heard even under his helmet.

“None in particular.”

“Fine,” Hunter said, ignoring the jabs with the practiced patience that comes from ignoring Crosshair often. “Tech will go last. I’ll go after Wrecker, and then Crosshair—”

“—If you think I’m taking your sloppy seconds—”

Surprisingly, it was Wrecker that swung at Crosshair, the sniper ducking under the massive fist before it could slam into his helmet. He snarled, and then Hunter was trying to restrain Wrecker, who simply grabbed him by the neck and hauled him into the air.

They were going to kill each other, and the enemy didn’t have to lay a finger on them.

“Enough!”

The men turned as you peeled off the upper half of your suit, leaving yourself bare-chested and exposed. The intricate markings of your fur were on display, coiling down your sides and back. Your fur ruffled at the abrupt chill, or maybe it was the sudden attention on the places of your body that had never had such attention before.

Wrecker dropped Hunter so quickly that he stumbled on landing, and his focus was so wholly on you it was as if he’d forgotten Wrecker had just tried to choke him.

“We don’t have the luxury of one at a time,” you growled, and you couldn’t remember a time when you’d done that before either. Not in the Cathar way, with a rumble in your throat and bared fangs. “I’ll take both Echo and Wrecker, then Hunter and Crosshair. Tech last.”

The potent arousal in the air was so sharp that you could taste it even through their body suits and armor.

“Will that work?”

Tech blinked as if startled by being addressed, and his gaze quickly focused on your face from where it had been roving over your body as if studying and committing it to memory. You told yourself it was his usual curiosity, more clinical than personally interested.

“That is… sufficient.” The breathless quality of his voice was anything but clinical. “I… didn’t suggest such an arrangement as it might not be comfortable for you.”

“None of this is comfortable.”

You stripped off the bottom half of your black suit, leaving you entirely naked to the air and their devouring stares. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t see their faces, and if anything, it increased the impression that they were a pack of predators salivating over anticipated prey.

But you weren’t prey. The Jedi in you attempted to fight the invading chemical and find the equilibrium that wasn’t there, and the blood in your veins cried out for a primal chase that would have been a familiar song to an ancient Cathar.

You hid your sharp teeth behind your lips and were once again glad for the additional barrier of armor between you and their vulnerable skin.

“Echo, Wrecker, come here.”

“Wait.”

You bit your cheek and tasted blood, but you remained quiet as Tech dug around in his pack and pulled out a tube of bacta gel. He offered it to you, and you took it, the gesture feeling somehow final and terrible.

“You think we’re gonna hurt her?” Wrecker asked, sounding both offended and worried. Perhaps you should have been worried too, but the idea of Wrecker’s unbridled strength sent saliva flooding into your mouth.

“Well, that is a possibility, but the gel is also a source of lubrication. It will reduce the likelihood of injury, as well as increase, the… uh…”

“It’ll feel good,” Crosshair supplied helpfully, but even he sounded distracted from where he leaned against the wall in a way that was too forced to be relaxed.

Echo and Wrecker approached, and your body burned like a living flame, your skin so sensitive it nearly hurt. Both of them removed their codpieces, revealing sizeable bulges underneath, and a distant, rational part of you thanked Tech for his foresight. Though considering the size of Wrecker… lubrication might not be enough.

“There’s one other thing—”

“What?” Echo snapped.

“General.”

You focused on Tech with painful difficulty; Echo and Wrecker were so close, and your fingers twitched with the agony of being denied touching them.

“Yes, Tech?”

“You will have to refrain from achieving orgasm until, ah… until the end.”

You blinked away some of the fog clouding your mind.

“What?”

“If you orgasm, you’ll lose consciousness soon after. I… I think I speak for all of us when I say we prefer not to do this while you are unaware.”

If you weren’t in such a state, you might have smiled. Had Tech always been this thoughtful?

And then your attention wavered and settled on Echo standing in front of you, Wrecker towering behind you, and it was all you could do to form coherent words.

“I’ll try not to, but if I fail, don’t stop. Not until it’s over. That’s an order.”

Hunter responded this time, and you sensed he was having the same difficulty of speaking. He growled, “Yes, sir.”

And then Echo touched your arm, light and exploratory, at the same moment Wrecker placed a large hand on the back of your neck. You nearly buckled at the sudden pressure, even if Wrecker’s hold was gentle, and the last of your control slipped away.

But there were hands to catch you, and you didn’t fall.

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