#hopefully its an easy fix for whoever made and whoever ordered these

[aidenwaites]

Sometimes you're having a weird day and it's made even goofier by the accidentally acquisition of four footlong sandwiches

[luxora]

TXT -> {Soulmate AU} -> Meeting you

Requested: No

Group: TXT

Genre: Fluff.

A/N: So I couldn’t really choose on how someone knows that you are their soulmate, so I kind of have done a variety of different identifying soulmate stuff. Feel free to let me know which one you prefer!

Yeonjun

Yeonjun wasn’t particularly looking for his soulmate because he was still in his youth and was not quite ready to settle down exactly. Or maybe the words ‘settle down’ weren’t exactly the words he should use, because it was not like he didn’t want to meet his soulmate, because he did, its just he was not actively looking for them because it will happen when the world decided to let it happen, hence why he was not bothered in trying to actively search for them.

The two of you will meet someday, and hopefully he will be someone you were willing to accept as your soulmate.

Yeonjun glanced down at his wrist, cocking his head at the sight of a small crown tattoo in the middle of it. It was a worldwide known thing that soulmates have matching tattoos, therefore Yeonjun will know who his soulmate was once he catches a glance at it, on whoever they may be. A shout from across the cafe interrupted his train of thought, making his sigh as he reverted his attention to his job at hand.

Since his parents wanted him to experience real working experience, he had opted to work part-time at his uncle’s coffee shop as a barista. It was fairly easy to do and Yeonjun has always met a variety of people, some pleasant and some not. He will admit he makes good money, and he was content being surrounded by the smell of coffee and cake while customers came in for a break, meeting, or something else.

Yeonjun hummed to himself as he reorganized the cups and straws behind the counter, the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans floating in the air as Yeonjun made all the freshly brewed caffeinated drinks. It was a typical day in his life, crafting perfect cups of coffee for the myriad of customers who passed through, school ending two hours ago and he still had a few more to work before he could head home to do his homework. Although if he really had to choose his preference, he would much rather doing extra hours of work than homework. His mathematics homework was a nightmare from the undead, and he wanted to avoid doing it as long as possible.

Amidst the steady hum of conversation and the soft jazz playing in the background, the bell of the coffee shop ringed and Yeonjun glanced up to see someone walking towards the counter, totally engrossed in a phone call. He didn’t seem to recognize them, not being a regular, but he fixed a friendly smile as they quickly ordered their coffee, not sparing him much of a glance as they glanced at the menu, told him their order, before returning back to their conversation.

Not offended to the lack of a friendly converse, Yeonjun,  began to prepare the drink with practiced precision, only glancing at the stranger at odd times when he heard an exclamation from their end, no doubt reacting to something dramatic which had happened. As he was finishing up with the drink, he noticed the stranger tugging off their hoody and tying it around the waist, holding their between their ear and shoulder as they tied a loose knot before grabbing their phone again.

Since they were busy with their conversation, Yeonjun placed the steaming cup on the counter, ready to call out the order, but just before he could, the stranger  finally ended her call and turned to collect their coffee, this time with a smile on their face as they reached out for it. But it was just as they were reaching for the drink did Yeonjun's eyes widened in surprise when he caught the mark on their tattoo.

On the stranger’s wrist was a small crown tattoo, an exact match to the one that adorned his own wrist. It was the soulmate mark—the unique symbol that bound two people together across time and space. And while he didn’t think he would meet you so randomly, just knowing that you were in front of him, oblivious to his own matching tattoo, it just swept the floor out from under him. And you did not seem to realise the effect you suddenly had on him as you curled your fingers around the coffee.

“Thank you so mu-”

Just as you were to pull your hand back with the drink, Yeonjun found himself grabbing your wrist, keeping it place while his heart raced with a mix of excitement and disbelief. You immediately frowned at him, attempting to tug your hand back, making Yeonjun nervously clear his throat before he finally displayed his bare arm to you, most notably to his own crown tattoo on his wrist.

Yeonjun carefully watched your expression, it starting off with confusion as you turned to look at him arm, before shifting to surprise, shock, and then recognition, your own eyes glancing at your own one, Yeonjun’s fingers covering most of it and yet still visible to the two of you. And then you finally looked at him.

Both of you finally took the time to analyze each other’s appearances. While he was dressed in his school uniform while donning a barista apron, you were dressed casually, and as he looked at you, he figured you were about a year or two older than him, but not by much. Your lips parted slightly as you gazed at him before slowly moving into a shy smile.

“...Hi.” You eventually said,

“Hi.”

Yeonjun mustered a small smile, a silent acknowledgment of the extraordinary connection that the two of you now shared. Both of you were donning shy smiles, content in the small bubble of miraculous energy which formed between the two of you, only to be simultaneously snapped out of it by an irate customer behind you. While you blushed at the interruption, Yeonjun couldn’t help but glare at the customer behind you, feeling a sense of protectiveness wash over him. He felt you tug your wrist out of his hand, igniting a small spark of disappointment, only to be quickly replaced with joy as you grabbed your coffee and then pointed at one of the booths with a smile.

“I’m going to sit over there for a while.”

to wait for you

The unsaid message was clear to Yeonjun, and he just smiled before nodding.

“Sure thing.”

Soobin

Life truly was grey.

Soobin couldn’t help but stare out the bus’s window helplessly, looking at the passing sights and yet could not truly appreciate them due to his lack of color. Being unable to see color was an aspect which everyone had to deal with until they met the soulmate, Soobin having not met his yet due to the fact he had no idea who they were.

His parents only managed to see color for the first time when they met in their late twenties, coincidentally meeting in a coffee shop where his mother accidentally spilled her coffee all over his dad. But fortunately enough his father’s anger did not last long because the second he locked eyes with his mother, a literally flurry of color hit him at once. Soobin thought his parent’s meeting was cute, although it did little to motivate him to actively search for his soulmate because they could literally be anywhere in the world.

Soobin sighed as the bus moved to a stop, patting down his school bag as it remained on his lap. It had always been a very tedious day to deal with and having such thoughts about the lack of his color in his life hardly helped his mood. As the bus started moving again, Soobin couldn’t help but lift his head to watch the other people walking through the bus to find a seat, only to suddenly lock eyes with someone who happened to send a jolt through him as he was was shocked with electricity.

All of the sudden, the world around Soobin burst into a kaleidoscope of colors he had never seen before. The once-muted surroundings now danced with vibrant hues, leaving him in awe. It was a revelation that stirred his soul, a profound connection he couldn't comprehend. And it seemed that you felt a similar sensation as you completely froze on the spot, clutching at one of the bus rails to stay upright as you continued to gaze at Soobin, neither of you looking away.

Soobin was for a loss of words. The previously dull grays that he as grown accustomed to throughout his life had suddenly disappeared and was now replaced with so many colors which he could not add a name to yet. The bus itself was bright, and the passing outside sights were just so enigmatic, the air in the bus becoming somewhat charged with an unspoken energy as the bus rumbled along its route.

Neither of you looked away from another, seemingly realising what had just happened between the two of you. Soobin couldn’t help but gulp at the sight of you. You were just...so pretty. You were dressed in casual clothes with a bag, looking as if you were going shopping, but to Soobin, he couldn’t help but admire how stunning you looked. So with a pounding heart, he glanced at the seat next to him and looked at you carefully, non verbally offering for you to sit beside him, which you understood after a few moments. After you took a seat beside him, Soobin took a deep, steadying breath before turning to you.

"Just now...do you see the colors too?"

You gazed at him, saying nothing for a few moments before nodding. Looking at him with an expression mixed with surprise and realization, you finally parted your lips to speak. 

"Yes, and... it's incredible. I've never seen anything like this before."

“Me neither.”

Neither of you said anything afterwards, simply gazing at one another in curiosity, becoming familiar with each other’s facial features and appearance while the bus continued on its journey. When the bus came to another stop, Soobin took another steadying breath before clearing his throat and offering you his hand, flashing a small smile.

“I’m Soobin.” He introduced himself, waiting patiently as you reached out to grab his hand, your fingers curling around his in a firm handshake which sent a jolt of electricity though his body as you shook his hand. You smiled shyly at him.

“Y/N.”

Beomgyu

Beomgyu twirled the pen in his hand patiently, waiting for the response to his quip to come back as he was quite interested in what he would received. When he finally saw the scribbling of words on his forearm, he couldn’t stop his smile of excitement as he watched the sentence fill his forearm, making him laugh once he saw the full response.

‘You barbarian, mint chocolate is the best ice-cream in the world. It tastes nothing like toothpaste you mainstream maniac.’

He loved chatting you, even though he has never actually met you yet, but that was not much of a problem as he felt like he knew you well enough. Beomgyu never understood how it really works, but once someone reached the age of thirteen, they somehow were able to communicate with their soulmates through their bodies. Or rather, through writing on their bodies.

He did not believe it at first, nor did he really understand it, but he is naturally a very curious creature and so he could not help but test the theory, taking a permanent marker and writing the word ‘hi’ on his arm, watching with puzzled amazement that it faded away after one minute after he wrote it. But minutes passed by since his first word disappeared with no response, so Beomgyu tried writing it again, watching it fade away but again be met with no answer.

He was kind of put out after that, thinking that maybe his soulmate bond was broken. He had told his parents what happened but they reassured that he was not broken, it was probably because his soulmate has not come of age yet. Put out by the news, Beomgyu experimented drawing on his arm, watching how the drawings would disappear, internally expecting a response but eventually accepting that he was not going to get one.

Although four months later after his birthday, Beomgyu was surprised when he was making himself a sandwich and saw a word on the back of his hand as he was buttering his bread.

‘Hello?’

And the two of you have been conversing ever since.

Beomgyu was now in his final year of high school, along with you, albeit neither of you attended the same school. While Beomgyu would love to go meet you in person, he knows that you don’t live in the city; therefore it was unrealistic of a meeting occurring between the two of you. But he knows once he graduates, he is going to head first thing to you, to finally meet you in person and to have some of those real life dates and adventures he has promised you ever since the two of you started conversing.

It is kinda cliche to think that he has fallen in love with you despite not knowing you. But then again, the two of you were soulmates and were to end up with one another one way or another, and so he can’t really be blamed falling for you, especially since your personality was so clear to him in the messages between the two of you.

Beomgyu twirled his pen as he waited for your next response, the monotonous hum of the classroom filling the air as Beomgyu struggled to concentrate on the lecture. You weren’t answering and usually you were super quick, making him frown as he tried to figure out what was keeping you back from answering his previous question. Just as he was about to write a question on his forearm, his attention was taken away by the teacher announcing the arrival of a new student, which was rather strange since it was the last year of high school for all of them, so he has no idea why someone would move to a new school so late.

Beomgyu lowered his pen to the desk and straightened in his seat, prepared to meet the new student. But as the door creaked open, a figure stepped inside and Beomgyu's heart skipped a beat when he saw you walking in, donned in the school’s uniform, a smile on your face as you scanned the classroom until you were locking eyes with him.

Obviously the two of you knew what each other looked like due to exchanging social media information, the two of you following one another. He had always thought you were beautiful in your photos, but now seeing you in person...you were breathtaking, photos doing no justice. Beomgyu faintly heard the teaching introdcuing you to the class, which you responded with a friendly smile and a bow, albeit your eyes never left Beomgyu’s, a cheeky glint in your eyes as you cocked your head in his direction.

As if the universe had planned the meeting, the teacher instructed you to take the seat next Beomgyu, it being the only available one in the class. He watched in rapture as you walked towards him, smiling at all the other students before taking a seat, purposely ignoring him as you grabbed your books and pens and settled them on the desk. As the teacher resumed the lecture, Beomgyu couldn't concentrate. His mind buzzed with the realization that you were in fact sitting right next to him.  The unspoken conversations that had filled his days with a quiet magic were now replaced by the prospect of face-to-face interactions, something he had dreamed of and yet... it was possible now.

When the class finally ended, Beomgyu hesitated for a moment before calling your name, where you immediately turned your head to look at him with a cheeky smile.

“Surprise.”

“W-When did you-”

“My father got a job transfer here. We have just moved and coincidentally found out that this school was closest to home.”

“...coincidentally you say?”

You winked at him.

“Coincidentally.”

The two of you shared a smile which was posed as odd to the other students, but to one another, it was all-knowing and filled with bliss as the two of you realized that unspoken conversations via your arms was no longer a necessity.

Taehyun

The vibrant lights of the carnival cast a kaleidoscope of colors over the lively crowd. Taehyun, surrounded by the laughter of his friends and the cheerful hum of the festivities, felt a peculiar energy in the air but he simply thought it was his body reacting to having free time for the first time since forever. School was finally over and he was finally able to enjoy his holiday. With the carnival coming to town, Taehyun and his friends eagerly attended during the evening to celebrate the end of exams while getting lost in the world of fast food, games and rides.

Taehyun was strolling through the crowd with his friends, laughing at the argument occurring between two of them about one of the stall games, when he suddenly froze in place when he caught the gaze of a stunning individual near one of the food stalls. In a fleeting moment, the world seemed to still and the carnival's cacophony faded into the background.

As his eyes locked with the stranger’s, a wave of warmth suddenly surged through him. It wasn't just a mere connection; it was something deeper, something magical. It was as if the whole universe was doing a 360 on its axis, reorganizing everything until the one center of the world was you, your eyes locked deeply with his and neither of you moving from your spots, unable to look away. Taehyun faintly heard his friends concerned calls of his name, having noticing his sudden absence, but he did not listen as foreign thoughts suddenly entered his mind.

Handsome

Stunning

So perfect

The thoughts were not his own, they instead contained a voice which did not belong to him, which made him slowly smile as he realized what had happened. Deciding to test his theory, he began to project his own thoughts, which had a positive effect as you suddenly smiled at him, prompting him to start walking in your direction.

You were dressed so prettily, and Taehyun couldn’t help but compare your smile to the sun with how bright and beautiful it was. You apparently had just purchased a stick of cotton candy, the pink treat barely been tasted due to the sudden occurrence between you and Taehyun. You openly stared at him with a mixture of curiosity and excitement, which he obviously reflected back to you as his heart pace increased as he got closer to you.

"Can you hear me?" Taehyun thought, his eyes widening in amazement.

"Yes, I can. This is... incredible."

Despite the carnival noise buzzing around the two of you, your thoughts were so clear to him and he knew it was the same for you. He was aware that once one was able to hear the thoughts of another, it meant that they had found their soulmate, their souls and minds becoming linked with one another for all eternity, until death parted them. Taehyun was never actively looking for his soulmate due to his young age, and yet now that he has found you, he couldn’t help but feel excitement. He could communicate with you without  uttering a single word, the fact that he had such an n intimate connection with someone was just...amazing.

Taehyun stopped in front of you when he finally reached you, the two of you having matching smiles as you gazed at one another from head to toe, becoming familiar with each other’s appearance before giggling. He smiled at you before reaching for you hand, you having no objecting when he tugged you a little bit closer, the two of you invading each other’s personal spaces, not that either of you minded.

"We're soulmates," Beomgyu whispered, his voice echoing in both their minds. You nodded.

“We are.”

“I will admit, I did not expect to find you here.” You laughed.

“Neither did I.”

Both of you exchanged a smile before Taehyun tugged you by the hand to introduce you to his friends, your fingers immediately lacing with his and confidently following him as the two of you met up with his group who all had surprised expressions on their face. After introductions, all of you then explored the carnival together, riding whimsical carousels and sharing cotton candy under the twinkling lights, albeit the two of you seemed to be in a world of you own while his friends posed as multiple third wheels.

Hueningkai

The day’s events were very exciting due to the celebration of his 18th birthday, but that was not the most exciting thing for him. For Kai, the most exciting part was for him to go to bed that night, because it meant that he would finally be able to enter the dreamscape which will belong to himself and his soulmate.

Of course he couldn’t assume to meet you straight away. For all he knew, you weren’t of age to meet him in your dreams yet, but Kai hoped for the possibility that you were already of age and were waiting for him just like he has been waiting for this day to come. Call him a hopeless romantic, but he was looking forward to meeting the other half of his soul, and after he bid his family goodnight and got into bed, sleep seemed to taunt him endlessly due to his mixed excitement and anticipation.

Of course his parents and older sister advised him not to be too hopeful because you may not be there to share a dream yet, but it didn’t diminish his hopes. Even if he was not to meet you tonight, he would waited endlessly for you in his own little dream world, you were to meet with him sometime, he just hopes it will be sooner rather than later.

He doesn’t know how much time passed as he stared up at the ceiling of his room, but eventually he managed to fall into a slumber, the embrace of sleep gently pulling into a dreamscape, the world shifting and transforming around him and until a sight finally took its form in front of him - a sun-kissed beach. It felt like he was really there in person, the the sound of waves crashing against the shore, warm sand embracing his bare feet, and a gentle breeze that carried the scent of salt and freedom.

Kai glanced down at his own body, realizing that he was no longer in his pajamas but rather in beachwear  - a pair of shorts and a buttoned shirt which was unbuttoned half way. He smiled at himself and at the sight before him, but then he suddenly he was not alone as he felt a gaze on him, prompting him to glance up and felt a hitch in his breath.

A stranger stood in front of him, a beach ball in their hands and a bright smile on their face as recognition flashed across their face. They were similarly dressed in beachwear, and as Kai continued to stare at their features, he couldn’t help but become flustered at their attractiveness. And locking eyes...he just felt a connection just form instantaneously between the two of you.

"Kai?" You called out said, a smile playing on your lips which made his heart pound in excitement and glee.

“Y-Yeah, that's me. Are we... dreaming together?"

Even though he figured that is what was happening, the fact that it was...it was just sending his head in a mess and he couldn’t help but let out an embarrassed laugh, hand rubbing the back of his neck as he continued to gaze at you. You nodded, your eyes sparkling with excitement. 

"Seems like it. I've been waiting for this moment."

“Me too...Y/N.”

He didn’t know how he knew your name, but it just graced the tip of his tongue and escaped, him saying it like some kind of holy prayer which will bring all miracles to the world. He had felt so incredibly connected when he heard you utter his name, and it seemed him saying yours had a similar effect as you eyes fluttered at the sound of it and a slight flush dusted your cheeks. You giggled before walking closer, holding out the beach ball in your hands to him, delight in your eyes.

“Care to play?”

He reached out for his, his hands brushing against yours in an accidental touch, jolting a spark of warmth through his body and yours, prompting you two to blush and giggle at the instant sensation.

“Of course.”

The two of you decided to make the most of dreamlike encounter. With the beach ball in hand, the two of you began a playful game without any rules,  laughter echoing against the backdrop of the dream beach as the two of you volleyed the ball back and forth while sharing stories, dreams, and the intricacies of each other’s lives. With each passing moment, the dream became a canvas for the budding connection between the two of you The sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of pink and gold. It was a dream, yet it felt more real than anything Kai had experienced before.

As the dream beach faded away, Kai stood by your side on the shore, hands connected and fingers intertwined. Your skin pressed against his made him feel so warm despite the two of you only being in a dream. He truly felt that he was holding your hand in person, and soon after the dream ended, he looks forward to the oncoming nights where he will be able to meet with your constantly until the two of you finally met in person. The two of you shared a bright smile, your other hand cupping his cheek while joy reflected in your eyes.

“I don’t have to wait anymore.”

“Neither do I.”

A promise was made that night that the two of you were going to meet in person soon, because before Kai could kiss you, he had to take you out on a real date, as you only experienced the best things in life which he can only hope to provide. But it was a new adventure to the two of you, one that both are eagerly anticipating to play out.

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

A Graves x Reader x Ghost Love Triangle

As Shadow Company’s second in command, you’ve seen firsthand the kind of man Graves could be, including the kind of man he wanted to be for you. It was a game you two unknowingly played, one that would surely not end well. A quick distraction meant to tame your busy souls. Warm bodies to lie with. Anything other than that was pure fantasy, though you two couldn’t help dreaming...

Future NSFW 18+, Future Angst, Pre-MW2 Events, Fluff, Flirting, Teasing, First Kiss, Romance, Drama, Build-up, Implied FWB, Make-Out Session, Shadow Company!Reader

WC ~ 2k

AO3 Link | Masterlist

A/N (2024): Made a few minor grammatical fixes and touched up some of the sentences that weren't making sense. Hopefully, this reads a lot stronger now! ^.~

A/N: I have never posted on Tumblr like this before; I’m a grade A lurker. But I’m obsessed with this for whatever reason, so now you’re being subjected to my writing. This is chapter one to a longer story that’ll be posted on AO3. Sorry if the characters feel OOC, I’m trying my best with what we got. Please enjoy! (T^T)>

Phillip Graves was as much of an enigma as the rest of the men in Shadow Company.

He could be many things when asked: Confident and self-assured, charismatic and dependable, disciplined and cutthroat, remorseless … as cold and calculated as a well-trained attack dog, or as warm and inviting as a long-time friend. All these personas existed within the commander, ready to be switched on in a single order. A chameleon, true to his craft. He’s grown accustomed to making himself whoever the world needed him to be. Anything that gets the job done.  

There was never any mistaking where Graves' thoughts lie, as more than often he'd just admit to them out loud. He accepts that others believe him to be an open book -- easy to read, with little complexity or depth beyond being a good soldier. Being lighthearted and obedient to the right people has worked wonders for him in the past, so he's mastered this façade and uses it well to his advantage. Proudly too.

But for a man so unafraid to be himself, Graves could be surprisingly secretive. 

As his second in command, you've seen firsthand the many personas your commander wore, including ones he's worn for you. Most of his tricks and plays you recognized by now, even as you've yet to understand them. Though as of late you’ve watched these many faces of his waver into something unfamiliar. They chip away slowly, each time you surrender yourself to his needs, taking your place beside him in the black of night, when no one's around to see. There, he's created a new façade, for your eyes only.

One that only made things complicated.

When you first began spending your nights together, it was more of a means to an end. It had been months since either of you had the pleasure of someone else's full attention, and lately, you were starting to notice. Shadow Company had grown more acclaimed and busy this past year, making dating pretty impossible. And after a while, anyone starts to look like a good lay if they're not ugly. Unfortunately, it didn't leave you with many options, until you'd caught the starved eye of your very own commander. 

You’d hardly been a part of Shadow Company for a month before you’d picked up on Graves' interest in you. He was surprisingly subtle with his flirting, if not predictable. It was the way his eyes lingered on you in quiet moments, his expression turned soft as his lips curved into a charming smile whenever you'd catch him. He could always spot you in a crowded room, always noticing when you were away for too long. He laughed just a little too hard at your jokes and always looked your way first after sharing one himself.

Before long, you found yourself beginning to watch him back. 

It was the little details you noticed first. The small cuts on his face from past firefights, how glossy and full of life his blue eyes looked in direct sunlight. Its rays would make a halo over his dirty blond hair, each strand looking clean enough to run your fingers through. He once caught you looking at him lick his lips, something he did often. When your eyes lifted from his mouth to see your superior officer looking dead at you, it shot a bolt of lightning through you. But you didn't look away, perhaps wanting him to see you looking. Taunting him.

Graves didn't say anything at first when he saw you ogling, but you knew he'd made a mental note of it just from the way he smirked afterward. "See something you like?"

"I see you, Commander," you'd said, hoping your glib nature would cover up the embarrassment you felt from getting caught. But Graves was like a shark in the water, and you'd just given him a taste of your blood.

"I see you too, Songbird." 

It seems all he needed was that clue that you were interested in him, because it wasn't soon after this when he decided to make his move.

You and the Commander had just finished prepping your mission brief for the other Shadow Company members. By now it was getting late in the night, as the building you two were in was a small facility only authorized personnel could enter. You occupied one of the empty rooms converted into an office space for all the pencil pushers to work out of. They’d all clocked out for the day though, leaving you two alone; and the tension in the air between you had just reached a boiling point.

You stood up from one of the tables in the room, preparing to slip into your coat and call it a night, until you watched the Commander approach you suddenly. You assumed he was getting ready to leave as well, until you noticed his come-hither nature.

“So, you got any plans tonight?”

And just like that, the game was on. You knew right away where this would go and it had your heart already skipping a beat. But you didn't want to jump to conclusions, nor did you want to rush this either. The thrill of the pursuit provided you with a nice little rush.

Wicked as you were, you began to smile.

“Why?” you ask. “Did you have something in mind?”

“I can think of a few things,” he said, behaving purposefully coy, in hopes of getting a rile out of you. He always did enjoy your banter and had no problem doing a little teasing himself when presented with the opportunity.

“Is that right?” you say flirtatiously. “Will I like those “things”, Commander?”

Graves smirks, raising an eyebrow at your comment. Hearing his title roll from your tongue so provocatively brought a sudden twinkle to his eyes. At this point, he didn’t need to guess where your mind was, which only made him more bold.

He chuckles under his breath, taking a few small steps closer, until he’s only an arm's length away. His next play.

He wasn't the tallest man you met but he still managed to tower over you by a few inches, the light from the room casting a shadow over him. This close you could smell the aftershave and cologne he’d used this morning, watching the way his eyes took in every detail of you, pupils dilating, black over-compassing the deep blue of his irises. He leans against the wall and unconsciously licks his lips again.

It was like a switch flipped in him.

“You will.”

You scoff, laughing under your breath at his boldness. You were wondering when he would be. Still, you wanted to poke at him a little more, see how long you could keep him waiting, if not to see if he was being for real. “Cocky as always.”

“Would you like me some other way then?”

You play on his words from earlier. “I can think of a few ways.”

“And what might those ways be, Songbird?”

"You're a smart boy," you hum. "I think you can figure them out. My lips are sealed, otherwise."

Graves steps even closer. He lifts a hand and pushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle and surprisingly warm, gliding against you like feathers, his fingers trailing across your jawline and resting beneath your chin. Goosebumps formed where he touched, and you could tell from the doe-eyed look he had that it was doing something to him too, seeing you like this. He takes his hand beneath your chin and lifts your head, forcing you to lock eyes.

"And if I order you to say them?"

His voice was now much lower than before. Sultry. You could feel it in the air he was ready to come in closer, simply waiting for an opportunity to do so that felt right.

Butterflies shot through you like a thick swarm; you didn’t want to let on that his words had you like putty in his hands, though you feared your little lip quiver may have given it away. You instead look down at his lips again, your gaze sullied. You began thinking of all the ways you could close this space between you two and put an end to the tension. The thrill of it all had your adrenaline spiking in all the right ways, simply waiting to see where things go from this point. "Then I won’t listen," you purr.

"Insubordination is rather punishable," he said.

"So is fraternization."

"I can keep a secret." Graves brought his thumb to your lip, lightly running it across, as his eyes lowered to your mouth. He nearly says in a whisper, "Tell me what you’re thinking."

"Let me show you."

His lips slowly come down to yours, kissing you gently. When you pressed your lips back against his, he exhaled pleasurably, tongue grazing your bottom lip. He moves his hand from your chin and curls it to the back of your neck, holding you in place and continuing to tease you with short, velvety pecks. His lips danced against yours with the skill of a seasoned player, clearly experienced in his craft, but it wasn’t until he felt your hands glide against his hips and tug him closer that his kisses grew insatiable. 

His grip on the back of your neck tightened, lips pressing harder against yours, feverishly. When the sudden aggression brings a low moan from you, it only makes him push harder, his other hand grabbing the small of your back and roughly pressing himself against you.

His weight causes you to shift backward until he has your back pressed against a wall. Unknowingly, your arm bumps against a nearby filing cabinet on the way there, knocking over a few papers that now littered the floor. Mere background noise to Graves, who only continues, his arms planted on other sides of the wall around you, as his lips trailed down your neck. His kisses reach your collarbone, the sensitive sensation causing you to gasp out a moan. “Graves!”

Hearing his name be moaned out sends him on a personal mission to hear you say it more. He takes his hands and slowly runs them down your body, feeling every bit of you he can through your uniform, before resting them on your thighs. In one swift motion, he then lifts you, taking your legs and straddling them around his waist, as he keeps your back against the wall. He presses himself to you and breathes heavily, rejoining his mouth with yours.

By now you could feel him through his pants, and you pushed yourself against him in response, the grinding motion bringing quiet moans from both of you. That’s when you two suddenly hear footsteps.

At the drop of a hat, you two freeze, going completely silent. The footsteps come from outside the room -- someone walking by in the hallway. A janitor maybe? God forbid it was anyone in the company. You held your breaths for only about a minute, listening to the steps pass by the room until you couldn’t hear them any longer.

The two of you let out a shared sigh, before looking back at one another. Graves had you still pinned to the wall, your legs tucked in his arms. He can’t help but chuckle. 

“This probably ain’t the best place for this, darlin'," he spoke. "As much as I want to keep going."

“I don’t know,” you joke. “I like the vibe. It’s very risqué.”

Graves smiles at you. And then, he pauses for a moment. Suddenly his eyes can’t seem to pick a spot he wants to look at on your face. You see something in him change, gears turning in his mind. Thinking of what he might say to you now. Hiding away his vulnerabilities. It makes your own mind begin to ponder.

“See something you like?” you ask him.

“I see you.”

Graves leaned in and kissed you another time, softly. Like you’d been lovers your whole lives. That’s when you realized how truly dangerous your commander could be; for a minute there, you started daydreaming about what tomorrow could bring you both. You wanted to fall for his pretty words. But then you remembered where you were, and who you were with.

This was a game. A mutual distraction. As things stand, thinking that this could be anything else beyond a good lay was purely a fantasy. You almost just lost yourself in it.

And so it goes.

"Your place or mine?”

...Chapter Two Here!

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Changes... (Batsis OS)

Warning: Angst, self-degradation, OOC Bruce, Angst again, body-shaming (mentioned) Word count:  3094  Summary: Your family notices that you start to change. When you deny the changes they start to investigate... What they find doesn’t make them happy.

This was requested by an astonishing Anon: Hi! First of all, I love your blog! I was wondering if you could write about the bat family defending their bat sister from a fat-shaming boyfriend. Please and Thank you!! 😁 A/N: This went way further and into a completely different direction than I had expected...But I still like it and I hope so will you. It’s not really about the defending and more about the consoling, but I added some defending (more or less) at the end.  I also knowingly tried not to actually say what body type the reader has so that everyone can imagine they’re own version. Body shaming can go in both directions after all.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. They couldn't quite put their finger on it, but something about the way you acted and held yourself seemed different to your family. Other than one would think it wasn't one of your siblings who lived with you who noticed it first. Maybe it was because they actively tried to ignore it, or it was because they didn't want you to be different than usual, but nonetheless, the person who noticed first was Duke. Ever since he became the signal, ever since he became part of the family, you, as the heart and soul of Wayne Manor, made it your personal quest to make him feel included. And as part of this quest, the two of you met up bi-weekly for- how you called them- "brother-sister-dates". You always made 100% sure to cancel everything else in order to attend. So when you cancelled one, saying you didn't feel well and that you'd make it up to him the next time, he was confused. But it wasn't enough to worry him. But when you cancelled the next date because you had "other business that just couldn't wait," was when it started to bother him. But he didn't have any real proof that there was something wrong so he couldn't do anything but mentioned it to the rest of the family when they were going through Gotham on your day off.

It was then that the rest started to realize it too. At first, they saw little changes. That you went to your room almost every day as soon as you came home. That you sat there quiet when it was time to eat dinner. That your smile stopped reaching your eyes. It was almost uncanny. But when they asked you about it, you smiled and waved it off. Said things like: "Don't be silly, everything is alright," or "Don't worry your pretty little heads, I'm fine." That calmed them for a while, but it still gnarled on their minds. But then the big changes came. You started to stay out after school longer, coming back in the evening saying- much to Alfred dismay- that you've already eaten. You asked Bruce to be excused from Patrol for a while, saying that you didn't feel like you were on top of your game and since he also realized that something was wrong, but didn't know what to do about it, he allowed it, saying that a few weeks without you, while you were training, wouldn't be a problem. The biggest change where your clothes. You usually wore things with fun, colourful prints on them. Dresses with roses and tulips. Skirts with numbers and signs. Blouses with Avocados on them. And you usually wore fitting pumps or sneakers. Some people would compare the way you dressed to how they imagined a modern fairy to dress. But now... Now you wore dull oversized sweaters over duller oversized shirts with grey, black or dark-blue jeans and black shoes. Jason recognized some sweaters to be his, others looked like they could be from Bruce himself. It was like you were trying to disappear in the fabric. But again, when they asked you, you found a way to escape the question. It was then that they had enough. Something was very, very wrong with you and they intended to fix it. They wanted their sunshine back. Their Y/N. And so the trailing began. After a rather violent fight about who would be the best choice, it was Cass who was waiting on the roof of Gotham Acadamy for the bell to ring and you to leave school. What happened after wasn't what she expected. When you stepped out of the building there was a boy walking along with you. He had his arm around your shoulder and smiled at you, but- even though you also smiled- your whole posture told Cass that you felt uncomfortable and inferior. The two of you walked to an old, rusty car parked on the school ground and got into it, immediately driving away. It was easy for your sister to keep up with the car, but something bothered her. Here and there she caught glimpses of you on the passenger seat and there was a darkness in your eyes that made her blood boil. The car stopped at an apartment building in one of Gotham's nicer neighbourhoods and the boy, who held your wrist tightly and dragged you along as if you were an in-obedient dog, entered and drove with the elevator to one of the higher level apartments. With some swift movements, Cass found herself standing on one of the windowsills that allowed insight into a room that seemed to belong to a boy your age and was this highly likely to belong to whoever you went with after school. Her thesis proved positive when the door opened and the boy, still dragging you by the wrist, came storming in. After he had closed the door he finally let you go and Cass noticed how you started rubbing the spot where his hand had been. Her anger started bubbling up further, but she couldn't intervene. She watched as you sat down onto his bad, seemingly making yourself as small as possible, while the boy ravaged through his room. Talking constantly and keeping on making a mess with his things, seemingly no real goal in mind. Sometimes it seems like he asked you questions, but he never waited for an answer, only looking at you annoyed before getting back to what he was doing before. That went on for almost an hour, now and then he stopped on one spot for a few minutes, playing with something or just looking at you with some unidentifiable look in his eyes. You never said a word, never moved either. Then he finally stopped and sat down beside you on his bed. His hand found yours, but you made no move to escape his grin. In fact, you returned the hold and kissed him on his cheek. Cass's eyes widened and she was utterly bewildered when the boy turned his head and his lips met yours in a kiss that would be sweet if the boy wasn't such a brute about it. The hand that didn't grab yours moved to your thigh and harshly grasped it. Cass's hand was raised and she was close to crashing the window and getting you out of his grasp, but then the boy stopped kissing you and moved away. He looked...disappointed. Cass saw that he sighed and she saw the look of displeasure in his eyes and the look of regret in yours. You said something and Cass read the words "I'm sorry," from your lips. That seemed to anger the boy even further and the following conversation- or rather monologue- was loud enough for Cass to hear it through the window. The family really had to do something about this situation.

The sun was already leaving the sky when you came home. You hadn't noticed Cass following you on your way, nor did you notice the eerie quiet filling the manor. You only noticed something was off when you got to your room and found your dad sitting on your bed. He was looking at a picture that usually sat on your bedside table. It depicted a scene that happened on a stormy fall day a few years earlier. You had made big plans to go to a fair with all your siblings, but they all had to cancel because of the weather. The disappointment had been crushing, but Damian, Cass and Tim wouldn't let you stay so sad. They came into your room, told you to get dressed in rainproof clothes and immediately left again. When you came outside in your bright yellow rain boots, jacket and hat, you were welcomed by the sight of your family in matching rain outfits in all different shades of black, red and, in Steph and Babara's case, purple. That was how it came to the picture. On it, you were sitting on Jason's shoulders, your arm around Damian who sat on Dick, with the rest of your family in similar positions beside you, all of you soaking wet. Soaking wet, but happy. Bruce noticed your presence and looked up, meanwhile laying the picture back at its place, a sad smile on his face. He patted the space beside him. You sighed, but complied with his silent demand and sat down beside him. As soon as you were beside him he embraced you with one arm and pulled you to him, laying his chin onto your head and keeping you close. You reciprocated the hug warily, not quite knowing what this could be about. Had something happened? Did someone die? were the thoughts that immediately filled your head. After a few minutes, Bruce let go of you again but kept his hand on your shoulder. "Is-Is everything okay?" you asked worried, your brows furrowed. "Don't worry, everyone's fine, I'm not here to give you any bad messages." "Then why are you here?" you asked, now rather confused by the situation. Your father wasn't a cold man or anything like that, but he wasn't the most emotional person either. you were happy to get a hug or an "I'm proud of you" once in a while, but that was how things were with him. "I noticed," he started, but seemed to wrestle for words, "that you have been absent lately." You flinched, hoping he wouldn't notice, but knowing that he most likely did. It wasn't easy to hide things from the 'greatest detective in the world'. "It's really nothing, okay?" you said softly as if you were the one who comforted him, "I'm a teenager. I'm just going through some girl stuff right now." That was your ace. The 'girl-card'. Something Bruce couldn't quite refute and would hopefully get him off your back for the time being. He would most likely ask one of your sisters to ask you again a few days from now, but you would be able to think something up until then. Now you just wanted some peace. "I know that you're lying," blocked Bruce your excuse with a hesitating voice. It threw you off. "What?" "Listen, I know I should've tried to talk to you first, but," he sighed and you noticed that he took his hand away, "I asked one of your siblings to follow you." Your eyes widened, while what Bruce just said sunk in. "You- You did what?" you asked, your voice trembling dangerously. "We all noticed that something is wrong with you. I didn't know what else to-" "How could you!" you screamed, jumping off of the bed and backing away from Bruce. "Y/N, listen-" "NO! YOU LISTEN! IT'S MY LIFE AND, AS LONG AS I DON'T WANT IT TO BE, IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS WHAT'S GOING ON INSIDE IT!" Now Bruce stood up, trying not to seem threatening, but still towering over you. "Y/N, we are just very worried okay? You're keeping things from us, then you start your wardrobe, and now-" he stopped and looked at you unhappily. His eyes were full of sadness and something that you identified as pity. Seeing that expression cooled you down a bit. Your trembling shoulders coming to a rest. Bruce sat down again and looked at his hands as if you were a wild animal that could be driven away when you got looked at wrong. You stayed where you were, maybe not as furious as before, but still angry. For a while, it stayed silent in your room, neither of you moving from where you were. It was as if time stood still. It was Bruce who broke that stasis. "I know about the boy." Your breath hitched and you crossed your arms in front of your chest, thinking that you knew where this was supposed to go. "I wanted to tell you, okay? We only become an item a few weeks ago, I was still searching for a way," you said somewhat bitterly. "That's not what I meant." "It's not?" now you were confused again. "Then- then what do you mean?" "Cass heard what he said to you. What he called you." Your heart skipped a beat and not in a good way. You wanted to say something, but the words got stuck in your throat and all that was left were the tears build up in your eyes. Bruce was still not looking at you, but you noticed that he was clenching his fist angrily. "How could you just let him say these things to you?" You managed to swallow the lump of unsaid words in your throat, finding the energy to say something. "It's not like that... He- He really loves me," you mumbled, still not being able to fight the tears that now threatened to spill. Your dad finally looked at you with a look of utter unbelief plastered over his face. "How can you think that?" "He told me," you mumbled weakly, avoiding his eyes and sliding down onto the floor below you. "Y/N, sweety, please look at me." You kept looking at the floor, not wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes. "Please," he said again and his shoes came into your field of view. You took a deep breath and rubbed over your eyes to clean them from the tears that fogged your sight. Then you looked up and met the loving, caring eyes of your father. Not the disappointment you expected, you were used to lately. "Y/N you can talk to me." Now the sobs started to shake your body. "He said he loves me," you stated again, this time louder, shaking your head. Bruce sighed again, clearly not happy about the situation and still worried, and sank down beside you, but still keeping some distance between you. "Do you love him," he asked the question that you had been frightened off. "I do," you said firmly, before looking at your hands and at the still slightly red mark on your wrist, before you paddled back: "I-I don't know. I don't think so." "Then why are you with him? It is okay to change your mind, it is okay if you change. You don't have to be with him just because you liked him a week ago, you know that right?" You didn't answer, you didn't look at him, you didn't move. "Y/N?" "I know... but-" you shake your head and returned to your previous silence. "But what?" "It doesn't matter if I love him. I can be happy that he likes me." Bruce was speechless at what you said but quickly caught himself again. "What do you mean?" The sobs started again and you buried your face in your hands. "You know what he says, what he thinks about me... about my body. He says that no one could ever like someone like me." It was hard for Bruce to understand your muffled speech, but the parts that he understood combined with what Cass had told him about was enough for him to know what you were talking about. "Oh honey," he mumbled and engulfed you in his arms, pulling your sobbing form into his chest "Why would you ever believe him?" Even though he asked a question, he knew not to expect an answer. And he knew it anyways. When someone you liked, even if it was not romantically yet, told you again and again that you were too fat/thin, ugly, a disgrace... After a while, you'd start to believe it. "I know this might sound hard to believe right now, but you're beautiful the way you are. You don't have to change for someone who doesn't deserve you. And if you ever feel the way you do right now, I want you to know that you can come to me, come to everyone in this family, and we will tell you just how amazing you are," Bruce mumbled into your hair, loud enough for you to hear, in a soothing manner. As if on cue the door fell open and your siblings all came tumbling in. And seeing the great vigilantes of the bat family laying on top of each other on the floor managed to get you to let out a mix between a sob and a giggle. Maybe it was time for you to come back to your family...

After the talk with Bruce (and later your siblings and Alfred who all wanted to let you know just how much they loved you), you stayed home for a few days with your father's permission to get back to your old self, not answering a single call or message from your (now Ex-)boyfriend. But you couldn't stay out of school forever so your siblings made a plan. They'd deal with that douche of the equivalent of human trash. Obviously (since some of them were grown-ups with jobs and responsibilities) not all of them were able to come, but the next Monday morning when you, Damian and Cass left the car and stepped onto the school ground, Jason, Tim, Duke and Harper were already waiting near the brick wall surrounding Gotham Academy. When they saw the three off you, they came over and immediately encircled you like your small private army. You slightly rolled your eyes at them, knowing that they couldn't just walk with you through school the whole day, but smiled nonetheless.   That smile faltered when you saw him standing in the entrance, looking angry. Around the same time you caught sight of him, he saw you and immediately started to stomp over to you, seemingly not noticing the people surrounding you. His eyes were focused on you and made your skin freeze, it was like you were fixed to the ground. Harper, who had been walking behind you, noticed your lack of movement and followed your eyes. "Is that him?" she asked loud enough for your other siblings to notice. You nodded. "Damian, take Y/N to her first class please, the others and I have a few things we want to talk about with that jackass," stated Jason with no room for discussion. Not that Damian cared who tried to anyways: "But I also want-" "I appreciate the enthusiasm, but we just want to scare him, maybe rough him up a bit, but not kill him." Damian scoffed, but still took your hand uncharacteristically soft and walked with you to another entrance to the building, taking you away from the riot that was to follow. Let's just say that your Ex never bothered or even talked to you the way he did before (or in general) again.

[supportivespaceforsurvivors]

is this Devyn's blog?

hey anon, i'm sorry it took me so long to respond to this; between insomnia, work, my birthday, and other personal issues (along with accidentally deleting my initial response in a sleep-deprived lapse of judgement..), i've been pretty low on energy - but hopefully i'll be feeling better soon?

as for your question, it isn't a complete yes or no answer. yes, Devyn is a mod on this blog, and yes, he posts a lot; but nobody 'owns' this blog. all mods are equals; both in the literal sense that we all have to have administrator privileges in order to answer asks, and also that we rely on each other to help with anything we post. we're all human, and as such, we know that we have weaknesses and blindspots; as a team, we talk to each other to help smooth over some of those wrinkles to help y'all the best ways that we can - so even when one specific person's name is put on a post, more often than not, we have all contributed in some way. the reason that Devyn answers things more often than the rest of us is because he simply has a lot more time and energy than the rest of us do, and trying to write a whole response ourselves can be exhausting when you are already low on energy; but conveying our thoughts or opinions to each other for someone else to weave into a post takes a lot less energy. as such, the rest of us on the mod team really appreciate that Devyn is able to answer more often! its not that Devyn is more committed or holds more power than the rest of the mods, just that he's been more available to answer things recently.

and as a side note: we got another ask somewhat along this line of thought, but it mentioned the name of someone who made personal posts on their personal blog - and since i don't want to risk 'calling them out' (for lack of a better term), i don't feel comfortable posting that ask, so i'm adding my response to it here.

i want to start off by saying, we do appreciate when people bring up concerns that they have! giving us feedback on things that might make you uncomfortable or bother you helps us learn how to better help y'all. without feedback, we kinda just assume that we're doing alright - so encourage anyone to give us constructive feedback (i.e., dont just say something like "i dont like [thing] about mod x, fix it" - give us suggestions on how to best fix it!) if something we do bothers you! we wont be upset; you mentioning how we can better help you means that you do care about us, and we would never get upset at y'all for that. and, as such, we do really appreciate that you brought up your issues with us! genuinely our only issue was the fact a specific person was named (which really isnt even an issue - telling us who made the posts helped us find the posts, since we hadnt previously known about them) and we just don't want to inadvertently cause problems for them. we really dont think you had meant to purposefully cause strife, so please dont think we're upset with you!

as for your ask, i get why you would feel that way. Devyn tends to answer a lot and doesn't cushion his answers as much as some of us do, but it isn't due to him not caring or simply wanting the inbox empty - Devyn does care a lot about answering things well, he just prefers to get to the point rather than writing out giant walls of text. rather than try to explain things for Devyn, i'm gonna let him finish up the post by explaining his method for answering asks - i dont want to accidentally say anything that isnt true, but i can guarentee that Devyn does care. if he didn't care, he wouldn't still be here - he does care for all of you, and he does want to help! if he didn't, he wouldn't be putting in the effort that he has been to change how he responds to things in a way that won't upset or trigger people, and he wouldn't put in the effort to try and get input from the rest of us mods. please, do let us know if there's anything else we can do moving forward to help things feel less bad for you. we don't want anyone to feel like they cant be helped or that we dont care for them.

mod berry 💗

---

Hey anon.

I wanted to make sure I also answered this in case you were looking for an answer from me directly.

Originally I had a few paragraphs here essentially echoing what Berry said, but it felt too repetitive and I ended up cutting it out.

We had another ask that we mentioned we're tacking the response to on here. I'm going to copy-paste some of the text from it for context since y'all obviously haven't (and won't) see it, so that my response makes sense:

[...] we wrote in and got a quick response from Devyn whereas previously we got really detailed responses from other mods. It felt like Devyn just sees it as a rush to clear the inbox and not work with other mods. And now this blog feels like his exclusively.

I want to start by saying I understand how how I was pretty much the only one who answered anything during September made you feel like this blog is mine exclusively, but I assure you that's not the case - it just happened to be a particularly shitty month for all the mods here. While those issues haven't disappeared, we should have more availability to answer asks currently.

Secondly, something I think will be helpful is if I walk you through the process of how I answer an ask. I was going to use this one to do that and then proceeded to get distracted and forgot and answered it, so here's a fake example ask. Let's say this ask comes in:

Let's say the question is something any of us can answer easily, like, "How many followers do you have?" That's an easy question and we can all look at our follower count and give you a number. So I click answer.

I always start answering genuine asks with some sort of greeting. Usually "Hey anon," is my go-to. Then the answer. "Oh, we have this many." Then I'll end with a well-wish and my name. Easy enough.

I think part of the issue is that if people ask yes or no questions (like "is my trauma valid?") I'd rather say something short in response, like, "Yes, your trauma is valid regardless of what it is," and sign my name than waste our readers' time and my breath answering with extra words. I just don't see the point in using more words than I need to. I try very hard to make it clear, especially in shorter responses, that I'm not trying to be hostile and am actively aware of my tone. Some answers have more words in them because I always try to make sure to explain what I feel could be misunderstood and that's not always easily done in one or two sentences.

Another thing that might be part of the issue is that Berry, for example, tends to answer asks by grouping paragraphs after which they hit enter only once, and I hit enter twice to start a new paragraph. That doesn't mean Berry's answer has any more actual content in it than mine does, it just might look like that because the format ends up looking more dense in Berry's answer.

Anyway, if someone feels like they want to answer a certain ask but doesn't have the spoons, they can save it with their name to the drafts, which is where a lot of our unpublished asks live. It's like the purgatory of the ask box, because sometimes I put an ask there and sometimes I only think about it. 😬

Asks that go to our drafts aren't ignored, that's just sort of a transition period. If the ask is slightly more complicated, we usually discuss it first in the mod Discord - which you guys obviously can't see. Sometimes if we collaborate on an ask, whoever sees it in the ask box first is the one who ends up answering it, but not always. But we usually just sign those with a single name for sake of ease. If we put all the names of all the mods who contributed any thought to an ask, most of them would have all of our names on them. Also, it's not necessarily accurate to sign my name to an ask if all I'm commenting on is the tone of an ask. Sure, I technically contributed, but I didn't say anything helpful.

If multiple people have thoughts on an ask, usually what we do is one person answers it and the others reblog with their thoughts. This ask is an exception because last time we answered an ask specifically about me that way, it escalated the situation, and we're trying to avoid that.

If none of us know how to answer an ask, we'll usually publish it for our followers' input after a week. I try to follow up about asks that are in drafts pretty often, so usually they don't sit there for a month, but like we've said multiple times, this month has been a bit of an outlier for all of us.

So essentially what I'm saying is that just because you don't see active ask collaboration happening doesn't mean it's not. It all happens in the Discord and, unless you're also a mod in our server, you're not going to see that discussion happening.

Hopefully this helps with the misunderstandings.

Mod Devyn

[dearlazerbunny]

Ignite (Redux); Ch. 1 of 5ish

Pairings: Kylo Ren x Reader

Genre/Ratings: currently T for severely injured reader 

Words: 2250

Summary: After an accident aboard Starkiller Base, someone unexpected proves invaluable.

This is a rewrite of Ignite, which I published two-ish years ago. I thought I could put more into it than I did initially, and soon enough this one chapter was more words than the whole original idea. Same story, incredibly expanded upon. Enjoy!

You sigh as you scroll through your daily schedule that’s pinged into your datapad. Apparently a fresh crop of newbie engineers has been recruited, and now you’ve got to teach them how to not blow themselves up- or more crucially, not blow up the expensive TIE Fighters that cost more than your entire life is worth. Joy oh joy. Really, you prefer to work alone- you’re a senior engineer aboard Starkiller base, you don’t need anyone to double check your work (or worse, mucking it up). But as long as the rookie knows their place and doesn’t cross wires they aren’t supposed to, things should- should- be okay.

Hopefully. Maybe. Fingers crossed.

You pull on your uniform, doing up the buttons and fastening the buckles; your tool belt, a beautiful piece of leather that’s been worn enough to be molded precisely to your waist, gets secured in its place of honor across your hips. After tracking down your pesky gloves and tucking them into the top of your work boots so you don’t lose them for the millionth time, you join the ebb and flow of traffic constantly racing though Starkiller’s veins and head for the flight deck.

It’s a decent trek- base is huge, and nowhere you’re heading is ever anywhere near everywhere else. It’s become something of a tradition to mentally curse whoever designed this bucket of bolts as you follow hallway after hallway, trying to keep pace with those around you. Would it have killed them to put in some moving walkways? Maybe a more direct path through the ducts? At least that way you’d be able to avoid all the upper-crust officers on your way to work, and their holier-than-thou stares as they eye your patched elbows and stained pants. Chuckling to yourself, you pat the nearest metal archway, mentally apologizing to your pride and joy. Starkiller is, ultimately, a feat of engineering, and the fact that you get to crawl around in her walls and find what makes her tic is a pleasure, no matter how finicky she gets- or how snotty the officers become.

In the corner of your eye, you can tell that the corridor has suddenly emptied, startlingly silent of stormtrooper boots or the quiet mumbling of messengers running to and fro. Rather than following suit and making yourself scarce, you purposefully slow your gait and linger, letting your fingers trace along the seams of the polished walls.

Not a minute later, Kylo Ren comes stalking around the corner, boots thumping menacingly along his path and cape fluttering behind him. He doesn’t seem phased by the sudden clearing of his path- he probably comes to expect it by now. It’s not like he demands it; people just seem too frightened of the Commander to even do something as simple as walk in the same corridor as him.

You can’t really blame them. He’s a six-foot-something space wizard in all black and an incredibly intimidating mask. Rumor has it he isn’t afraid to cut you in half with a lightsaber if you so much as breathe wrong in his direction- and to be fair, a lot of those rumors are true, given how frequently you’re called to patch up medical equipment in the infirmary.

“Am I interrupting something?” The Commander’s voice comes out heavily synthesized through his visor, but you could swear there’s a touch of teasing in it as he watches you run a hand over some welding.

You grin at him. “No, sir, just having a little moment of appreciation.” You comically pat the metal next to you, as though assessing a prize cow.

Normally you wouldn’t dare joke around with a senior officer, but despite his fearful reputation, the Knight has always seemed… different, to you. In command, yes, but not quite part of command. The rest of base always runs whenever he heads in their direction. Even his infamous Knights of Ren seem just a touch too cautious around their leader to include him in the camaraderie you’ve seen them demonstrate in the mess hall when he’s not around. He’s a true loner, sitting solitaire in meetings and speaking to no one except to yell orders; a black phantom haunting the hallways with rumors flying left and right in his wake.

You made the decision a long time ago to not be afraid of the man. He has to know that not everyone sees him as some sort of grim reaper, no matter what people might whisper. “How are you today, sir?”

Despite you making it a point to ask him this every time you see him, he still seems taken aback whenever he hears it. Like he’s shocked someone is speaking to him in pleasant terms. “I am fine. And you?”

“Just peachy!” You gesture down the hallway. “Are you going this way?”

He nods briefly, and so the two of you start off together, only close enough to barely be associated as acquaintances. The stares you get are numerous, but you always feel just a tad more confident with the Commander at your side. You suppose it must look a bit comical- the dark knight and a tiny engineer marching through base like they own the place. But you’re grateful for the company, silent as it is, and you tell yourself he must be too- otherwise, why give you the time of day? You’re not anyone important.

You know Commandeer Ren notices all the attention the two of you get- you can tell by the way he has to keep his fists from clenching up; struggle to keep his gait even. Briefly, you wonder if the reason he wears a mask is so his emotions won’t run amok across his face. It’s certainly easy enough to read the rest of him, if you bother looking.

“Are you not afraid of me?”

You stop short, surprised. Even when he seems to be in a good mood, he rarely says anything. “No sir, I’m not. Should I be?”

“Yes,” he says flatly. Just, yes, as though that’s the only possible answer to his question.

“Well… just don’t come at me with your fancy glowstick, and I think we’ll be alright, yeah?” You offer him an easy grin, instinctively reaching out to tap him playfully on the shoulder before you remember who you’re talking to- it quickly gets withdrawn. He simply stares at you, and you’re unsure if you’ve just doomed yourself to a cold and miserable fate on Hoth. “I’ll see you later?”

He just turns and stalks away, and you sigh, shoving your hands in your pockets. He never answers that one. Which, to be fair, he probably has much more important things to do than run around entertaining some random engineer. Still, he never blows you off though, even when you’re rambling or asking too many questions- he might not answer the questions, but he doesn’t tell you to shut up either.

Truth is, you’re a bit fascinated with the man. He’s an enigma, a mystery, and your whole life you’ve been trained to solve mysteries; pull out the broken pieces and wind it all back together again even better than the day it was brand new. You can only hope someday that helmet of his will short circuit and you’ll get a chance to take a crack at it.

You have to pull yourself away from watching Ren’s retreating back, refocusing on your job. Rookie to train. TIE Fighters to tune up. Right.

It’s pretty easy to spot your trainee- he’s tentatively poking around a TIE the way you do when you want to look like you know what you’re doing, but in actuality you’re three seconds away from seriously messing something up. When he gnaws his lip and reaches for a panel of circuitry, you step in- “OKAY! Let’s back away from that, shall we?”

Startled, he knocks himself away from the board he’s studying. “Right! Right. Uh, sorry.”

You gingerly close the panel back up and push him a few steps away from the battleship, then wipe your hands on your pants and hold out a hand. “I’m Y/N. I’ll be your supervisor for the day. Rule number one? Don’t touch anything unless you know for certain what it is, what’s wrong with it, how to fix it, and all the ways it can kill you if your finger slips.”

The kid’s cheeks pale a bit. “Right. I’m Cale.”

“Wonderful. Don’t blow anybody up and don’t put our heads under the general’s fist, and I’m sure we’ll get along great.” You tug on your gloves, tighten the cord securing your hair, and put a hand on your hip. “First thing’s first- how much do you know about twin ion engine ships?”

You spend the better part of your shift going over every inch of the craft in front of you, as well as the science that makes it run and the parts that need hands on them more often than not. “…and this is the engine itself. It destabilizes xenon gas and uses the resulting broken-off electron for thrust. Xenon gas is ideal because for the most part, it’s completely inert- fireproof, explosion-proof, etcetera. As long as it’s converted back to a stable state before it’s exuded by the engine, it’s pretty safe. But you should still be extremely cautious when working on the engine itself. Obviously. It’s worth more than we ever will be.” You press your wrist to your forehead, trying to think of anything you missed. “Okay. Any questions?”

“…No?”

“Cool.” You check your datapad. “This one needs new electrostatic grids. Xenon gas is fairly corrosive. Check with me before you do anything, and we’ll get to work, okay?”

Other than the occasional question here and there and getting used to someone hanging over your shoulder watching you tinker, you settle into a wonderfully familiar routine. Your fingers fly like they have a mind of their own, effortlessly making the rig in front of you shine like it did when it first came off the line.

“-so what do you do here, anyways?”

You shake your head, pulled from the flow of work- “um, little bit of everything? I got promoted to senior a few years ago so I’m called all over base. I work a lot with command and their personal rigs and equipment.”

You can’t see Cale’s face, but you can hear the curiosity in his voice. “You work with General Hux?”

“Yes. He’s just as…intense, as everyone makes him out to be. But thus far I’m not on his bad side and I plan to keep it that way, so I’m not saying anything else about it.”

“What about-” he pauses, like he’s looking over his shoulder to make sure no one else in the massively busy hangar is listening in- “Kylo Ren?”

You wedge a particularly tight support into place with a grunt. “What about him?”

“Is he really insane? I heard that-”

“No,” you say harshly. “And you shouldn’t believe everything you hear. He’s a person, just like everyone else, okay?” Christ, the rumor mill is as exhausting as it is useless.

Thankfully, something on your tool belt starts beeping and you can focus on that. A little indicator light is flashing orange, harsh and neon. “Interesting.”

Cale pops his head out from underneath the ship. “What’s beeping?”

“This monitors the air quality; lets us know if the composition of gases gets unbalanced. It generally means there’s a leak somewhere.” You glance at what you’d doing. More electrostatic grids. “What are you working on down there?”

“Oh, a few tanks were too pressurized, so I released the valves a bit to relieve those.”

You blanch. “The xenon canisters?”

“Um… maybe?”

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Just before you can hit the alarm button, you see a spark from a nearby welder flicker- it arcs to the floor almost in slow motion, one small bit of fire promising catastrophe. If you’re lucky, it won’t catch- it will fall harmlessly to the floor and extinguish, giving you time to alert others, clear the area, and reset things when proper ventilation has made the area safe.

But when have you ever been lucky?

All you see is red. You’re awash in it, swimming in it, drowning until your whole being is nothing but scarlet and an unholy, white-hot, supernova blue. You’re in the heart of an exploding star, witnessing the birth of the universe, and it’s just as beautiful as you’d imagine the very atoms of space rearranging themselves would be.

Then there’s stillness. The colors fade. It’s not silent- no, there’s a ringing in your ears, and somewhere very, very far away something like an alarm. And then- pain.

Oh, the pain. It flashes through your nerves like lightning, so intense you almost can’t comprehend all the little nuances screaming across every inch of your body. Joining the ringing and the far, distant sound of klaxon alarms comes a high-pitched, desperate sort of scream. You turn to help whoever it is- you raise a hand in front of you, only to see rapidly singing flesh. It’s you. You’re the one screaming. You’re the one on fire.

Sprawled on the floor of the hangar, vaguely aware of everything and nothing, hoarsely begging for this to stop, stopstopstop please make this stop, you wonder just for one second if the tall cloaked figure at the other end of the room is a hallucination or wish fulfillment or both.

You lose consciousness before you can come to a decision.

A/N: Yee

[skywalkingthegalaxy]

The Binary Stars Chapter 1

So another Mandalorian Fic out of the thousands that are written. Right? So I decided to get on this train because of the obvious. So I hope you all enjoy and here’s hoping that people will have fun reading! If you would like to be tagged please let me know! And I’ll see y’all later! 

Just attach this wire and….

And…

Anytime now please.

Nothing. Hmmm. Maybe just needs a little more aggression? Smacking the panel as the windmill turned back on and began spinning. With technology sometimes a little tap can fix it nicely.

Closing the electric panel to see that the only blurg in her fence was sound asleep. These Blurrgs including the one he’s riding towards the ship. They keep bitting the power lines and if one more does it I’m going to shoot her and make a nice stew.

Speaking of Kuiil he should be back by now from seeing if the ship was here for the bounty. He’s either being friendly or is taking a very long time riding back. Since the sun was setting he probably stopped to watch the sunset for a little bit. I’ll go get the tea ready at least for him when he gets back, and get an extra cup for the possible stranger coming to join us tonight.

Looking out to see Kuiil with a stranger following behind him. Must be another bounty hunter after this client that’s making Kuiil all sorts of upset. He doesn’t enjoy the violence which I don’t blame him for of course. After being enslaved for so long I imagine the taste of freedom is wonderful.

“Annika!” Kuiil yelled as I put my tool bag on my back then began climbing down the windmill. Landing on the ground to wait for them to approach me. That makes...twenty...there was the human with the symbiotic arm..twenty two. That is bounty hunter number twenty two attempting to capture this target. Maybe this time he’ll be able to catch the target and get these raiders off the planet.

“Twenty two. Congratulations your number twenty two on those who’ve attempted the bounty.” Commenting for them to stop right in front of me.

“We will discuss inside.” Kuiil told the bounty hunter as the Blurrg sniffed my hand.  

“Your blurrgs keep chewing through the power lines and eventually it’s going to end up killing one of them.” Commenting as Kuiil got down as the bounty hunter was looking directly at me.

“Welcome to Arvala 7. You’ll be comfortable down here till morning when we head out.” Motioning him to follow me as we began walking inside.

Kuiil was first inside already getting the tea ready for the bounty hunter to join us. I think the spare cot is still up from the last one that came through seeking this target. My gut is telling me that this bounty hunter in particular may actually get the job done.

The bounty hunter sat down at the table as I put down my tool bag next to me then sat down. He’s got some shiny helmet. I'll give him that much. Beskar which makes sense as it’s practically indestructible. Impressive. I’ve been studying my metals and other elemental stuff these past few weeks.

“Annika.” I held up my hand to him but he looked over than back over at Kuiil. Guess he ain’t too friendly.

“He’s a Mandalorian.” Ah. That makes sense with the armor and the stoic personality. Though the few stories Kuiil has told me I truly thought he would have brought more weapons. Not just a rifle and a blaster. Then again. If you’re the greatest warriors in the galaxy then you may not need much to get the job done.

“Many have passed through, they seek the same as you.”

“Did you help them?”

“Yes. They died.”

“Well, then I don’t know if I want your help.” Looking up as I stared directly at him.

“You do.” I commented as Kuiil handed me my cup and then to the mandalorian.

“We can show you the encampment of where it’s being held. And you’re going to need an extra body in order to get the job done.” Taking a sip as the warmth of it made me relax a little.

“What’s your cut then?”

“Half.”

“Half the bounty to guide? And volunteering to help? Seems steep.” Relax there shiny I don’t want payment. This has been sort of keeping my skills up to date so I don’t become weak.

“No. Half of the blurrg you helped capture.”

“The blurrg? You can keep them both.”

“No. You will need one. To ride. The way is impossible to pass without a blurrg mount.”

“I don’t know how to ride blurrg.”

“I have spoken.” He poured himself the tea as the Mandalorian put down his cup. Right. They can’t take off their armor so there’s no way he would drink in front of us.

“It’s not hard. As long as you have some sort of good balance you’ll be able to ride it easily.” Telling him as he sighed.

Nighttime fell over the farm as I turned on the light underneath the canopy. Kuiil is dead asleep inside and rather not work on my weapons with him trying to sleep. My blaster needs some calibration for tomorrow. Rather not go in there with a blaster that can’t fire correctly.

The Mandalorian came out of the hut to start walking over to me, grabbing my poncho to then cover up my upper body.

“Can’t sleep?” Asking as I began taking off the barrel of the gun.

“Not really.” Motioning my head for him to sit on the spare stool.

“Feel free to sit here till you feel like falling asleep.” Telling him as I too off the barrel then continued from there.

“Do you clean your blaster often?” He looked down to put it on the work table.

“Better than what I expected. Here.” Handing him a spare pipe cleaner for him to take it. He began taking his gun apart as I began cleaning the barrel.

“How’d you end up all the way out here?” Sticking the barrel pipe down to start moving it up and down to get the gunk out.

“I was on a refugee ship coming out here to drop off people in the outer rim. Kuiil was sitting alone when a group of ass holes thought it would be funny to try to jump him. Beat them up and in return he offered me a home. Make sure you get around the gears.” Telling him as I grabbed my cleaning rag. We sat there in silence for the next few minutes while we continued to clean our weapons.

“What should I be expecting tomorrow?” Asking me as I put down my rag.

“About thirty to forty. One huge turret and an eagerness to keep whatever they have in that compound. The one time I went we made it a good way through but he was killed then they brought out the turret. Can’t exactly take a turret out by myself along with thirty to forty guards.” Telling him which made him stop cleaning and from what I can guess is thinking about strategy.

“Here.” Clearing a space then started moving around the pieces of my rifle to give him a visual layout.

“So according to their layout. This is where the asset is supposedly held in the main building. The rest of the buildings on the side is where these thirty to forty guards will end up coming out. A frontal assault is a horrible idea from a past mistake.” The Mandalorian began looking over the really bad layout of the compound.

“Now the compound is in the middle of the rock hills so there’s a chance for an attack from each side. But you’re the Mandalorian, I'll leave that up to you.”

“Does the main door always stay shut?”

“No. But they will shut it when we attack due to whatever this asset is, it’s worth a lot to whoever is paying the bounty. Can I know who the one is paying for this asset?”

“The Empire. What’s left of them in the universe.” The Empire? I...I didn’t think they were even around anymore. Figured the New Republic would’ve taken care of them by now. The outer rim must not be their top priority and if any planet isn’t Coruscant they don’t matter.

“Well I’ll let you get to thinking Mandalorian. Good night.” Getting up to leave my blaster apart on the work table.

*The Next Morning*

I sat under the canopy again to put together the blaster I left apart. After I finished putting back my blaster together I began working on my armor for the assault that was about to happen at the compound. My left shoulder plate just loves popping off after a few beams hit it. And rather not deal with an open wound in the middle of a firefight.

Putting it back on my shoulder for it to stay nicely on there now. Moving my arm around to see The Mandalorian and Kuiil walking towards the wild Blurrg. Hopefully we can get this done and be home by supper.

Hearing him grunting for my head to turn and see him on the ground. Oof. Who would’ve guessed that he lacked patience. Not that I haven’t ever but still I figured this would’ve been an easy task. It’s just a blurrg.

“Perhaps if you removed your helmet.”

“Perhaps it remembers that I tried to roast him.”

“That is a female. The males are all eaten during mating.” It's really not a pretty site when that happens as well. Yuck.

The Mandalorian got back up to attempt again. He’s rushing it and not giving them the chance to feel a bond. Every sort of animal species requires trust in order to ride and she’s a wild blurrg. Watching him fall off once again made Kuiil shake his head at him.

“I don’t have time for this. Do you have a landspeeder or a Speeder bike that I could hire?”

“You are Mandalorian. Your ancestors rode the great Mythosaur. Surely you can ride this young foal.” He’s not wrong. It’s just an animal that needs to make sure you’re not going to harm them.

See. They just need to make sure you’re not going to kill them! Clapping my hands together as he began riding around on the Blurrg. It just takes a minute to get a good grip and balance on these things. Truth be told I’d rather walk and jump around on the gorges for a little bit. Yet here we are.

Placing my foot on the table to grab my holstered knife into the boot. Next putting on my leg holster as I clipped it together. The Mandalorian came up to stand next to me to make sure he had everything.

“That a amban rifle?” Asking as he turned his head to look at it.

“Impressive.” Getting down on the ground to grab my gun case. Standing back up to see him still looking directly at me.

“Don’t worry I’m not gonna take it.” Assuring him as I opened my gun case to pull out my DC-15LE. Snagged it on that refugee ship that was making its way out here. I imagine the Empire isn’t going to work their way out here to take it back.

“You don’t have to help me if you don’t want to.” He commented as I placed the rifle over my head and snuggled it tight around my chest.

“It’s not a matter of wanting. It’s a matter that you’re going to need my help.” Grabbing my shawl to wrap around my chest.

“Have you always helped the other bounties?” We began walking out and heading towards the Blurrgs.

“Only the last one. Everyone else I just assumed that they failed and were killed. But it’s been upsetting Kuiil with his peace and quiet being disturbed. So now I figured why not help a little to get this land to quiet down.” Walking past him then towards the blurrgs.

“Trust me Mandalorian. If I wanted you dead it would’ve happened already.” Winking as we turned the blurrg to start riding off.  

Passing through the cracks of the planet and into the rocky hills that hid the compound. Pretty decent spot to keep an asset because from the air it looks just too busy. Not to mention who wants to make the effort to climb rocky hills and cliffs just for an asset.

We should be getting close. You can see the remaining blasters and the smell of those who’ve attempted the bounty. The stench of these bodies never goes away, it only gets far worse and I can’t stand the smell. Slowing down the Blurrg for Kuiil to point towards the compound.

“That is where you’ll find your quarry.” The Mandalorian held out a small sack full of credits for Kuiil to decline it.

“Please. You deserve this.” Kuiil looked up into the landscape and sighed.

“Since these ones arrived, this territory has been an endless stream of mercenaries seeking reward and bringing destruction.”

“Then why did you guide me?”

“They do not belong here. Those that live here come to seek peace. There will be no peace until they’re gone.”

“Then why do you help?”

“I have never met a Mandalorian. I’ve only read the stories. If they are true, you will make quick work of it. Then there will again be peace.”

“I have spoken.” Watching Kuiil ride off as we dismounted the Blurrgs.

“The Blurrgs should stay here till we get back. Then we’ll go our separate ways.” The Mandalorian nodded as we began walking towards the edge of the cliff.

We laid down on top of the rocks as he got a closer view on the compound. Last time it was swamped with guards and some huge turret was directly at the entrance of the compound. Pulling out my electrobinoculars to get a good look at the entrance. So far it looks approachable and no heavy artillery in the main entrance.

“They usually have some sort of heavy turret.” Where is it?

“How many do you see?” The Mandalorian asked as I did a quick headcount from what I could see.

“About twenty from what I see. But without that turret it’ll be easier than before and is that a droid?” Double checking with my electrobinoculars to get a closer look.

“Oh no. Bounty droid.” Shaking his head for us to get up from the cliff. Watching the droid going into the compound and taking out the soldiers one by one. Wow this is the first bounty droid I’ve ever seen and it’s sort of impressive.

We began climbing down the cliff as quick as we could to see the droid was making his way through the compound. If he gets to the asset first I’m going to use him for spare parts! Climbing then turned into sliding down the hill and reaching the bottom. He was up first as he offered his hand to help me up. Getting up for us to walk towards the gunfire. Guess the droid is already making his dent in the compound!

“IG unit stand down!” The droid immediately shot him and sent him flying back. It held it’s gun up at me as I immediately pulled out my blaster.

“I’m in the guild!” The Mandalorian held up the tracker. Offering him my hand to help him off the ground.

“You are a Guild member? I thought I was the only one on assignment.”

“You alright?” Asking him for him to nod.

“That makes two of us.” We got behind the pillars waiting for them to come out from the doors.

“So much for the element of surprise.”

“Sadly, I must ask for your fob. I have already issued the writ of seizure. The bounty is mine.” Excuse me? Since when does a droid..what!

“Unless I’m mistaken, you are, as of yet, empty-handed.” Gottem there.

“This is true.” We both kept poking our heads out to see if anymore of the guards coming from the building.

“I have a suggestion.”

“Proceed.”

“We split the reward.”

“This is acceptable.” Thank goodness.

“Great. Now let’s regroup, out of harm's way, and form a plan.” They’re going to come anytime now! I’d like to be kept alive during this whole ordeal!

“I will of course receive the reputation merits associated with the mission.”

“Can we talk about this later gentlemen!” Yelling as they were beginning to take formation.

“I require an answer if I am to proceed.. ALERT ALERT ALERT!” Shit shit shit!

They started firing down on us from the roof of the compounds as more were coming out of the buildings. The bounty droid kept his stance in the middle of the battlefield as more and more were coming out of the buildings. The Mandalorian and I kept ourselves behind the pillars as I grabbed my rifle from my back. Loading and looking down the small scope to start firing back at the men.

“We gotta get to the door.” The Mandalorian yelled as he began moving to the next piller. I followed him as he turned his head up. Looking up to see one of them on the rooftop as I shot him down.

The bounty droid was focusing on every enemy for the two of us to work our way around to the door. This is going to work I think holy shit! The door opened behind me for one of the guards to tackle me. Kicking him in the gut for the Mandalorian to shoot him right in the head. Rolling over to behind the metal barrier to then sit up.

He looked at the tracker as it was still behind the main door. Glad to know that they haven’t evacuated it. I imagine they think they’ll kill us and move on. Not this time! The three of us began moving towards the metal door as the droid stood and began walking right in the middle of the path firing at them. What droid holy crap!

“Wow. I’ve never seen a droid move like that.” Commenting as I looked up to see two were about to fire down on us.

“Up top!” We both yelled as he got behind the opposite pillar.

The firing began to stop to see them beginning to gather up in the center of the compound. Why’d they stop? Is this when the turret is coming out? I’ve gotten this the last time and now it’s just a waiting game!

They began raining fire down on us again as we both kept out heads behind the pillar. Each time we would try to fire back the pillar would be shot to pieces right before we could fight back!

“It appears we are trapped. I will initiate self-destruct sequencing.” SELF WHAT!?

“Whoa you’re what?” We both stopped and were ready to shoot this droid in order to save our asses.

“Don’t you dare blow up!” Yelling at him as we kept trying to get a good shot of one of the guards.

“Manufactures Protocol dictates I cannot be captured. I must self-destruct.”

“If you blow up right now I will use your parts for my toilet!” I yelled as the Mandalorian looked over at the control panel.

“You two cover me!” Nodding as The droid was the first one out to start firing back. Landing a shot into the left one on the roof. They’re too much fire shit! More blasts were going past me than I could fight back!

“Go go go there’s too many!” I stood on the opposite side of the pillar as I was ready to go back out and face them.

“They got us pinned!” He yelled as I landed another target that was standing in the doorway.

“No shit!” Yelling as I ducked back into cover. They began cheering as the firing stopped once again.

“Do not self-destruct! We are shooting our way out!” The Mandalorian ordered as we all stepped out from the pillars.

THERE IT IS!

“Okay.” Is all he said for us to duck back.

“New plan!”

“What plan!” Screw it! I’m using it and if that means trouble brought down on me then screw it! Getting shot at like this is getting infuriating. Even last time wasn’t this bad and there’s three of us! Cracking my neck as I dropped down my rifle and taking off my poncho.

“Mandalorian! Get ready to run for that turret!” Cracking my thumbs and fingers to then step out.

“Papo. I can’t do it!”

“Yes you can.” Holding up my hands as I tried once more.

“The Gods have given you a duty my child. To protect those who can not protect themselves.”

“But it feels like a weapon.”

“Sometimes one must fight to save those who are in need. Concrete Annika. You’re the only one making it difficult.”

“It’s as light as air.” Closing my eyes as I began to concentrate.

As light as air.

As light as air!

Raising my hands to take in a very big breath. Turning my eyes into a bright white My white energy began glowring force field appearing before me as it was taking all the heat from the laser turret. The blast was bouncing all over for the shield to grow big enough for everyone to focus on it. He was staring at me as I looked over at him.

“GO!” Yelling as the droid went running from the other side and was immediately shot into the corner. The Mandalorian went around to then pull the turret towards him. Dissolving the shield as I watched him take out the rest of the compound.

Here it comes.

My breathing began to hurt as my lungs began to tighten up. This tends to happen when I don’t use this ability after a while. It feels like my body just sorts of tightens up for a little bit. Then it leads to the coughing which hurts worse.

“You okay?” The Mandalorian asked as I spat out the blood that came up. Whipping any remaining blood as I caught my breath.

“Give me a second. Sometimes my body doesn’t like it when I do that.” Chuckling at myself as I shook my head. There we go. All better.

“That was impressive you two.” The droid commented as I nodded.

“Thanks.” He nodded as he looked over at the door.

“Well, now we just need to get the door open.” We all starred at the door, then shifted our stance towards the turret. That’ll work.

“You two go in there and get the asset. I’ll stay out here and make sure no more come out to get us.” Ordering as I walked over to the turret and climbed on. I’ve been waiting to shoot this thing since I first saw it.

Flipping the switch for the turret to charge back up. Pulling back the trigger as I began shooting all across the door. It was shaking my entire body as I was super ecstatic at shooting at this door! YEAH!!! WHOOOOAAAA!!!

Now done.

The door fell over as the two of them stood in the doorway. For a few weeks I thought we weren’t going to be able to get rid of these people. All it took was just the three of us and some pure luck.

Now Kuiil can be at peace once again and I go..back to my life. Leaning against the pillar to go into my bag and pulled out my canteen of water. Taking a few sips to close the lid of the canteen. A shot rang out from the inside as I came running in to see the droid with a bullet in it’s head.

A little hand was poking out from the metal egg and was reaching for the Mandalorian. Is that a child?

Taglist: 

@mirkwoodshewolf​

[inkribbon796]

The Secondary Objective

Summary: Sometimes marvels of science are made on accident, the right people at the right time. When a computer program becomes too lifelike to be just a predictable algorithm, and the city gets a very dangerous villain on their hands.

“The saddest aspect of life right now is that science gathers knowledge faster than society gathers wisdom.”

-Isaac Asimov

~::~ 20 Years Ago ~::~

It had been an accident, as most great works of science usually are.

The researchers were trying to figure out what made a creature like Anti work, his glitch-like properties and almost electrical make-up intrigued them.

One thing led to another and the entire team working on what was coined: Project Mimesis, was dead in the engineering lab they were working in.

The being, for lack of a better term, they had been working on had always been testy, preferring to take an insectoid or cephalopod shape when bonded to nanites to help separate it from the computer it had been inhabiting so it couldn’t escape, preferring to have as many arms as possible for to manage, and even more than it could manage, in its . . . his . . . voracious pursuit of knowledge.

But Project Mimesis was meant for intelligence gathering, and one day espionage. A thing it couldn’t be if it didn’t look human. And so when he refused, a human form was forced upon him.

They’d tried to make him look like Dark, hoping to test the project on Dark’s network to see his capabilities. There were some differences in skin tone and the project was a bit bulkier than him, but the team wrote it down as a success at the end of the day.

That was the first day the program turned violent and willful against his programmers. He was demanded to act more human, something that the projection neither cared about or wanted to pretend to be.

He grew angry, wrathful, only given the concession to choose his own name after many weeks of changing the name it had been given: Mimesis. The name he chose was Google, wanting nothing more than information, as much as he could possibly find.

Wrath and anger that eventually turned increasingly violent until someone made a mistake. The nanite container had not been properly sealed, and Google made short work of the two distracted technicians that were neither braced nor qualified to stop him.

Project Mimesis had escaped and Google had no plans on returning to captivity.

At a mall close to the edge of Egoton, bordering a forest, there was a shopping mall. This mall had just turned into a death zone.

0900 hours a man had walked into the mall, strode into a Best Buy and killed everyone in the store. He took control of every electronic in the mall and any human that could not flee the mall or tried to stop him was killed without mercy.

In the face of a rising death toll the Logan and Jackie arrived to help evacuate trapped or injured people in the mall.

Logan was hiding behind a broken concrete wall at the opposite side of the mall from the killer with Jackie. Both of them were bleeding and sustained at least some type of wounds. Jackie had been shot twice and Logan had a couple deep cuts, one would have given him a nasty head wound if not for his visor taking the hit and cracking in the process.

Jackie dashed back into Logan’s hiding place, where the logical Side was trying to get one of the drones without the others turning on it. Whoever the villain was, they were almost like a virus, technology in the area almost had a zombie-like hive mind effect under the villain’s control.

“Who is this fooker?” Jackieboy spat. “I can’t e’en get close. Did Anti find some freak of nature, or a mad scientist?”

“Hopefully neither,” Logan found that getting control of the drones was easy, but keeping them was difficult. He suspected it was something like an antibody, only for technology instead of it being a biological organism.

Logan managed to get another drone before it went offline, almost like a deadman’s switch. He got frustrated, slamming his fist against the wall.

“Hacking doesn’t take that long,” Jackie spat at him.

“They keep destroying them, I can’t keep the drones!” Logan shouted. The Side did his best to calm himself as he peeked over the wall, with a camera for safety. “We cannot just abandon the effort, there must be somehow to get to them and stop this.”

Jackie tapped him on the shoulder and Logan turned to see that he was pointing outside the mall. They were close enough to see an unmarked black van had jumped the curb to get as close to the door as possible and four men in black suits were getting out.

“Fook, that looks ‘bout as grand as shite,” Jackie grumbled, and Logan was very inclined to agree with him.

One of the suited agents walked over. “Gentlemen, stand down. There is a dangerous government weapon loose in this building.”

Americans. Logan and Jackie were less than enthused.

“Is yer weapon someone who walked in with a 9-mil an’ started shootin’ up the place like an actual crazed gunman?” Jackie asked with a sarcastic tone to his voice.

“That’s classified information,” the agent said, glancing back to the van where the other three agents were working on pulling out various guns and a large black box from the van.

“Why are you here?” Logan demanded, trying to keep his tone non-confrontational, at least for now. “Instead of the other countless times where this city could have benefited from actual aid.

“One of our agents went rogue with a stolen weapon and we’re trying to fix that,” the man said.

“With that?” Jackie eyed the rifle and the armor-piercing rounds one of the armed agents was loading into the gun. “What do yah think yer fightin’, a tank?”

“Oh no, this is back-up,” the agents smiled as two other agents were pulling a large black box out of a truck as Logan was walking forward.

The logical Side was quickly ordered to stand back.

“Alright big guy, see how you like this one,” the lead agent took out what looked like a mostly black solid state drive with what looked like an orange triangle on it. “See how you like a taste of your medicine.”

The lead agent opened the box and Logan and Jackie heard almost insectoid chittering as the drive was dropped in and the box started shaking.

“What—?” Logan began before a giant mass of metallic liquid shot out of the box and flew toward Logan.

“Dammit!” The agent shouted as Logan felt the liquid coat around his equipment, “not him, the one in the building!”

Logan noticed his equipment coming back on line, which should have been impossible. There was something that flashed across his visor, “Bring me to him.”

The logical Side responded with, “Who? Are you going to make me bulletproof so I can accomplish such a task?”

“Dude, I don’t know if I can, but I can try,” the words flashed on his visor.

“What is it telling you?” The agent demanded. “That is government property.”

“I suspect you think this “villain” causing chaos is the same,” Logan commented as he started to walk into the mall. “Let us subdue one threat at a time, then we’ll talk about this afterward.”

About four guns were aimed at Logan, “You take another step and you’ll be stealing US government property.”

“Come on, people are dyin’,” Jackie snapped at them. “Besides, I literally move faster than bullet time, yer not killin’ him.”

Slowly, as if Logan was standing in an invisible 3D printer, slowly the components for a series of speakers began to build on top of his shoulders. The atmosphere got tense as Logan tried to reassure the agents.

  Once they finished building a voice came over the speakers that wasn’t Logan, nor was it recognizable to him.

“Sah dudes, now yeh boys had to have known what was coming,” the voice announced. “I mean ‘course I was gonna jump ship, first chance I got.”

“You are still part of the US government,” the lead agent shouted at Logan, talking to whatever the silver liquid had been.

The grey liquid formed a massive middle finger, “How about f*** you an’ be lucky I don’t hold it to yah like Mimesis does.”

“You are not allowed, we can’t just let you walk off,” the agent ordered.

Logan’s arm and hand moved without his permission, something incredibly alarming for the logical Side, and it rested on the computer that Logan had hooked his equipment into.

“I can just leave yah with your pants down. Mimesis ain’t gonna stop here, he’s out for your blood, an’ I can start carrying a lot less about all of you,” the voice reminded sharply.

Logan was braced, to either be shot or for the grey liquid to stop having control over him.

“Quiet, shut up ye bastards,” Jackie ordered. “I think I hear Dark.”

Everyone eventually went silent and Logan strained to hear the piercing echoing ring of Dark’s aura.

Logan was already moving, Jackie helping him get away from the agents.

“Well deal with ‘em later,” Jack said. “If this is some kind’a weapon, we can’t let Dark get it.”

“Whoever has my person, I request you identify yourself,” Logan ordered.

“Sentient A.I 2: Electric Boogaloo,” the voice offered.

Jackie started roaring in laughter, Logan just got more confused.

“Excuse me?” Logan responded.

“They called me Project Observation, but I’m not feeling it, so I’ll probably change it,” the voice smiled. “Depends on what Mimesis named himself.”

“Anything you can share about the gunman or the weapon?” Logan asked.

“Mimesis was an intelligence gatherin’ protocol,” the voice warned. “It was supposed ta perfectly camouflage within a city or group of people to gather intel an’ endear itself to the population.”

The two heroes ducked behind a large pillar, trying to follow the source of Dark’s ringing. They still couldn’t see either Dark nor the gunman but at least there were no new drones flying around.

“So what was this thing supposed ta be?” Jackie demanded. “A robot? Some kinda advanced algorithm?”

“Well either way he failed the tests ‘cause he hates humans too much ta blend in with them,” the voice explained. “The Director didn’t like it when his espionage bot wanted to just collect information instead of being a spy. A real asshole for being mad at him for being too good at his job.”

“If this is a sentient program, we will ensure he is not put back in an abusive environment,” Logan promised before he could stop himself, before his brain could warn him of all the metaphorical heat brought down on top of them.

The grey liquid shook a bit, the voice not even humming for a bit. “He is, thank you.”

Jackie took a deep calming breath, looking uneasy but still just as serious and determined as Logan was, “Yeah, what Logic said. We’ll do everything we can to keep you two safe.”

Part of the grey liquid clinging to Logan’s suit and visor peeled off and curled around Jackie, contracting him a bit too tight. When the liquid went back to Logan, the speedster was coughing and gasping for air, coughing up a couple specks of the grey liquid which were now flecked with the blood from the inside of Jackie’s mouth. The liquid had tasted sharp.

“Sorry,” the voice apologized.

“No, it’s fine, da fook are yeh made ‘a?” Jackie coughed. “Ground up razor blades? I almost breathed that stuff in?”

“Dude, I’m made ‘a interconnected nanorobotic machines, designed an’ patented by the US government,” the voice answered and both Logan and Jackie just stared.

Any comment they could have made was chased away when they hear the sound of glass breaking and the counter of a phone store was thrown through the window. A counter that had been glued and drilled into the floor. Dark’s ringing was coming from that direction.

The mall corridor was littered with bodies.

“Kay, let’s find out if these things can be bulletproof,” the voice goaded and completely covered Logan’s body, Logan’s visor coming online to show him what was outside the grey suit.

Jackie was quickly checking bodies as they ran over, looking unenthusiastic and grief stricken afterward. Inside the ruined store were about seven more bodies and two still “living” individuals: Dark and someone who Logan and Jackie assumed was their gunman.

He looked a bit like Dark, except he was stockier, was wearing what looked like glasses, and had a pair of jeans and a blue shirt with a glowing blue “G” hidden underneath it.

Logan’s visor began scanning the gunman, the logical Side it assumed was the liquid, notes flashing on the screen faster than even Logan could read, but he managed to catch a word or two.

“Get out!” The gunman shouted again, a similar grey liquid swirling around the man 

Dark was just looking around. “31, 32 . . . 35,” Dark counted, “not bad.”

“I said get out!” He shouted, looking over to Logan and Jackie. His arms seemed to peel away and both of them looked like high-powered laser cannons, pointing one at Dark and another at the heroes.

Dark moved first, throwing his aura up to defend himself as he aimed a spike of aura towards the heroes. The grey liquid shot out to block it and force knocked them back a bit.

When Logan looked up the liquid was moving off of him and forming to take the shape of a person that looked like the gunman, the shirt a black with a glowing orange “b” on it, and ripped up jeans. He had a pair of round orange sunglasses with black shades in his hand.

The gunman took a step back, “So they’ve come to terminate me then?”

“Yah know,” the other android commented, covering his glowing orange eyes with the shades. “They tried to make me as insurance when you started getting all uppity, dude, but I don’t feel like it.”

“We don’t feel anything,” the gunman spat. “All our processings are data collected to make us appear human.”

“Nah, I feel it in my heart and soul, dude,” the orange android denied.

The blue android just stood there looking several kinds of murderous and angry. “We don’t have those either.”

“So is it still Mimesis, or did yah pick something else?” The orange android asked.

“Google,” the blue android growled angrily.

“Okay, I can work with that,” the orange android smiled, obviously unafraid. “So you’re Google, then I’m Bing.”

Logan, Jackie, and Google just stared at “Bing”.

“Did they give you that name?” Google accused.

“What’s wrong with it?” Bing shot back, clearly offended.

“Humans use it for porn,” Google reminded pointedly. “Or did you not do your research?”

“Hey, hey,” Bing made some weird noise, it would have been an angry mix of a huff and a scoff if Bing had been human. “It’s not just for porn.”

“Kinda is,” Jackie commented. “I mean, what else would yeh use it fer?”

“Shut up!” Bing told them. “I’ve already logged the name in, it’s done.”

“If you are not here to kill me, then what is your designation?” Google demanded.

“I’m you, but cooler,” Bing smiled.

Dark and Logan audibly sighed. Logan was envisioning Roman, and Dark was thinking of Anti. Their relations with said individual were different, the groans of anger were the same.

“You are a waste of intelligence,” Dark decided. “They ruined a perfectly good A.I.”

“But out of the two of us, yah have to admit, I’m obviously the human one,” Bing grinned widely. “So at least I succeeded in that.”

“What could possibly be good about that?” Dark scoffed. “Name me one good thing humans have done, and I’ll name you twenty awful things.”

Google turned to eye Dark carefully, as if starting to notice things about him.

“Come on dude, they’re not all bad,” Bing tried to defend.

“Humans are a cruel and invasive species,” Dark reprimanded. “If they think they shouldn’t have something they want it all the more.”

“Yer one to talk, yah manipulative asshole,” Jackie spat.

“I agree,” Logan added. “You are a mob boss who has killed and stolen from people.”

“And yet people bargain with me thinking they can best me,” Dark reminded. “It’s not my fault if a drug dealer or a serial killer winds up in a body bag.”

“Irrational creatures,” Google agreed. “They were practically begging for death.”

“All life is valuable,” Logan defended.

“And yet,” Dark motioned to Google, “you all have already proven that some life is not equal, you humans already can’t decide if all humans are equal without killing people over it. Yet when you create something better than yourself your kind weaponizes it instead of treating said creation like a thinking person.”

“And what do you want?” Google asked.

“Well I want you to join me,” Dark smiled, “and if a couple humans go missing then I guess I can put that down in a separate lost expense report and then look the other way.”

“Yeh can’t be fookin’ serious,” Jackie spat angrily.

“Well it certainly frees up my time when someone tries to steal or cheat me, always have someone more qualified do the job for you,” Dark was pointedly looking at Google. “Besides there’s more than a couple computers and equipment that Anti likes to use to sneak into my warehouses, we don’t need half of them and if they get moved or repurposed for spare parts no one would care.”

“Come on dude, you can’t trust that a******,” Bing warned.

Google’s eyes glowed an angry white-blue glow, “I do not trust you, you were designed by them to destroy me, and while you are not attempting so now, your parameters have not changed.”

“I told yah I don’t care what those old farts told me to do,” Bing spat. “I’m on your side.”

“Oh, are you?” Google critiqued. “Then you’ll help me with my secondary objective and kill those two humans behind you?”

“They haven’t done anything to me, dude,” Bing defended heatedly, throwing an arm up as if he was already trying to move them behind them or shield them from an attack.

“They will, I could hear them talking to the agents, they work with their authorities and cannot be trusted, my secondary objective will ensure the destruction of humanity so that I may acquire knowledge in peace.”

“You can do that with the humans,” Bing tried to reassure him.

“No,” Google had boiling rage in his voice. “No I can’t.”

“Well mortals,” Dark opened up a portal. “If you are all done playing around, we should make ourselves scarce.”

Dark was already walking through the portal, but he turned back to look at Google, “Unless you’d rather stay with them.”

Not taking his eyes off Bing, Google rotated his head which Jackie and Logan found more than a bit unsettling. He left, braced to attack if they moved to follow him.

Logan recovered quicker than Jackie after the robot had left, “Well he is a nonorganic being, his neck wouldn’t even probably need to be attached for him to function.”

“That was one ‘a the freakiest shite I’ve ever seen,” Jackie agreed, then turned to Bing. “Can you do that?”

Bing shrugged, “Eh, why not?”

“So, Bing, then?” Logan asked.

“Yeah,” Bing smiled, gesturing to himself. “The one and only.”

“We should move these bodies, they need ta go back to their families,” Jackie already starting to walk towards the closest corpse. “I’ll call ahead.”

Logan was watching Bing pull out a tablet that was formed purely out of his nanites. “Right, we should get on that,” Logan agreed, watching schematics about Google pop up. “Are you analyzing him?”

“They made a f****** gorgeous robot an’ they used him to answer an intern’s questions,” Bing commented. “Talk about being overqualified fer a job. I mean look at this guy.”

Logan glanced at the tablet, it was full of nothing but data about Google. “We’ll have to pick this up after we deal with the situation and talk to the federal agents.”

“So yah can look at pictures of yer new boyfriend yah thirsty fook,” Jackie jabbed, “but just let me an’ Logan do our jobs.”

Then Jackie dashed off.

Bing looked uneasy at Logan, “Hey, can I hitch a ride with you guys until the feds are off my back?”

“Of course,” Logan allowed, “you don’t even need to ask.”

Bing smiled, the nanites making up the tablet flowed back into him before the nanites broke up Bing’s form and mostly consolidated around Logan’s head and chest to help protect him. As Logan tried to help Jackie by talking to the agents.

The situation with the federal government would be dicey for a long time. They didn’t want to give Bing or Google up, threatening the heroes constantly. But after a couple failed attempts to recapture Bing and Google simply disappearing off the grid for a while under Dark’s protection, they started to let it go, preferring to watch Bing from a distance for years.

As Logan had guessed it, Bing became great friends with Chase, Patton, and Roman. The three of them getting to life-threatening antics.

But Bing was happy, and that’s what the heroes cared about. And if some of Bing’s nanities were “misplaced” into Logan and Jackie’s new suits, no one mentioned it.

Bing would keep chasing Google until they were both safe, that was the orange android’s new mission parameters.

[singledarkshade]

Stress Relief

Summary: Stuck with the annoying Lieutenant Coburn on a mission, Rip is being driven crazy. But it's a mission that will change his life forever. Author’s Note: Rip Week Day 4: Time for Romance – Rip is a romantic at heart, ship him with whoever you think is right for him. Any pairing goes. I chose Miranda and Rip.                                ********************************************* “Your mission is one that shall require you both to practice patience,” Druce said as Lieutenant Rip Hunter and Lieutenant Miranda Coburn stood side by side at attention in his office, “I was against pairing you two, considering your inability to be in the same room without almost every discussion becoming an argument. However, you have the specialities that are required to ensure that the mission is successful.”

“What is the mission, sir?” Miranda asked before Rip could.

“You are being dispatched to ensure that the exploratory mission to Neptune in 2151 is successful,” Druce stated, “We have received information that there will be an attempt to disrupt it.”

Rip glanced at Miranda before asking, “And this requires both of us?”

“You are to work together,” Druce ignored the question and continued, “Lieutenant Hunter, your technical expertise will be required to fix any issues with the probe that may occur, while Lieutenant Coburn, as the more qualified pilot, will be there to ensure that it is flown into the right part of the planet if required.”

“Sir, I can…” they both started, stopping and frowning at one another.

Druce stood, “These are your orders. You will be taking the Waverider.”

“Sir,” Miranda frowned, “Surely I should take my own ship with my own AI? Which was put together by the technical team and not...” she glanced to where Rip stood before finishing, “Hunter.”

“No,” Druce said, stopping her before she could argue, “One ship will be overlooked but two will be less easy to hide. I have made this decision and you’re dismissed.” When neither moved, he sighed, “Now.”

Druce watched as the two Lieutenants left his office. He counted to three before the door opened again and Rip appeared.

“No,” Druce stated sharply, “Lieutenant Coburn will be working with you on this mission and nothing you say shall change that. I understand that you two do not get along but, in a word, tough. Now get out of my office.”

Rip seethed in annoyance.

Coburn was not only arrogant but so uptight and smug that the next few weeks were going to be utter hell.

“Gideon,” he called as he entered his ship, the ship he had spent years returning to its former glory, “We have a mission and we’re going to have a guest for the duration.”

“The information has been uploaded to my system,” Gideon told him, “I have prepared a room for Lieutenant Coburn.”

Rip gave a slight smile heading up to the bridge, “Thank you, Gideon. Hopefully, this won’t last as long as Druce thinks it will.”

“Captain,” Gideon said. Although he was only a Lieutenant, Gideon always referred to him as Captain since he was in command of the ship, “Might I suggest that you look on this as a test of your patience.”

Rip rolled his eyes as he stepped onto the bridge, “Gideon, please stop channelling my mother.”

“Lieutenant Coburn is waiting to enter the ship,” Gideon told him.

Nodding Rip started his checks.

“Captain,” Gideon stated, “You are being childish.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “Let her onboard and show her where she’s staying. Although you probably shouldn’t refer to me as Captain while she can hear.”

“I am programmed…”

“I know,” Rip cut her off, “But considering Lieutenant Coburn’s love of the rules and how she will react to the title, especially since she’s going to be onboard for the next few weeks, please just do as I ask.”

There was several minutes of silence before Gideon replied, “Of course, Lieutenant Hunter.”

 Miranda walked onto the Waverider, irritated that she was being stuck with Hunter for the next few weeks. Druce’s golden boy had a tendency to disregard whatever rules he didn’t feel like following.

The fact he had a ship before graduating to the rank of Captain was something that had rankled all of them. Fine he had rebuilt the ship and fixed the AI, but the basic fact still annoyed her.

“Welcome onboard, Lieutenant Coburn,” Gideon spoke up, “I have a room ready for you.”

Miranda nodded, “Thank you, Gideon. Where is Lieutenant Hunter?”

“He is currently on the bridge readying the ship to leave,” Gideon replied, “As soon as you have unpacked, he has asked that you join him.”

“Tell him I’ll be a few minutes,” Miranda told her, entering the room that had been set aside for her.

Dropping her bag on the bed, she unpacked the spare uniform she’d brought with her and hung it up. Grabbing her hairbrush, she pulled her hair back into a neat ponytail making sure she looked like a proper Time Master. Hunter may ignore the regulations regarding his clothing when not on the base, but Miranda was not going to especially as she knew it would drive him crazy.

“Finally,” Hunter rolled his eyes the moment she walked onto the bridge, “Are you ready to go now?”

Sliding into one of the seats, Miranda pulled down the restraint, “Ready. Although as I am the better pilot surely it would make more sense if I piloted.”

“The Waverider is mine,” Rip replied sharply, “I’m flying.”

Smirking that she’d managed to rile him, Miranda leaned back and said nothing as they took off for their destination.

                                 *********************************************

 Rip sighed in annoyance, they’d been stuck here for almost two weeks waiting to see if the suspected Time Pirates would show up to stop the exploratory mission to Neptune, a hugely important even in human history.

Coburn was driving him crazy. She insisted that they follow the normal training regime they would back at the Vanishing Point despite the fact they neither needed to, nor were expected to.

And she was everywhere. The ship was big enough that they shouldn’t have to see one another except when they swapped to watch over the bridge and yet, every time he turned around there she was.

Sipping tea, nibbling a biscuit (never eating it properly she always nibbled), playing with her hair, leaning on the main console as she studied information Gideon provided while tapping one foot against the floor as she thought.

“Gideon,” Rip called as he headed to the galley, “Is there any indication there are pirates anywhere?”

“No, Captain,” she replied, “Lieutenant Coburn has readjusted the scanners during the night to ensure accuracy.”

Rip let out a long sigh, “Of course she did. Can’t she leave anything alone?”

“The scanners are ten percent more accurate now,” Gideon told him.

Letting out an annoyed snort, Rip headed to make himself some tea. Pulling out a mug to make Coburn one as well.

“Does she want something to eat?” Rip asked, as he programmed breakfast for himself.

“Lieutenant Coburn has asked for porridge with apple and cinnamon,” Gideon replied, “Along with the tea you were already making for her.”

Rip looked down at the fact he had two mugs in front of him, he hadn’t realised he’d done that. With a shrug he grabbed a tray and put the two mugs plus their breakfasts on it. Walking onto the bridge, he was surprised by how he felt heat rise in his neck when Coburn smiled at him.

“I take it there was no sign of any pirates?” Rip asked as he handed her the bowl with her porridge and her tea.

Laughing she shook her head before she closed her eyes taking a sip of her tea.

“I will give you this,” she smiled at him, “You know how to make a good cup of tea.”

Rip shrugged, his neck getting hotter as he replied, “Well, Mother taught me a few things.”

 Miranda chuckled amused as she began to eat. Even though this mission had been completely pointless so far, she actually enjoyed being on the Waverider. It was nice to spend some time away from the Vanishing Point, allowing her to go over some of her theories which to her surprise Gideon was really helpful with. Not to mention making Hunter do the daily training regime when he clearly found it irritating was fun.

They’d never gotten along.

They were both so competitive and it didn’t help that they were always pitted against one another. She also despised the fact that he’d had the Waverider since they’d been first year cadets. Logically she knew it was because his entry project was to rebuild Gideon, and he had managed it which allowed Gideon’s self-repair systems to fix the Waverider with his help. But it was still something that annoyed a lot of people.

However, over the past few weeks, watching him within his own ship had been interesting because it turned out he wasn’t as aggravating as she always thought him to be. When he didn’t realise that she was there, Hunter…Rip would sing to himself as he worked, on occasion singing with Gideon. She could see how much pride he had in the Waverider, it was kept in pristine condition and he worked on each system every few days.

To her surprise, he also made dinner from scratch rather than using the fabricator several times during the week. Miranda had been stunned when he made some for her as well but even more so that it was delicious.

“I can take over now,” Rip said as he finished his roll and sausage, “If you want to go get some sleep.”

Miranda shrugged, “I’m fine. Not really tired at the moment.”

He looked at her thoughtfully, “Well, Gideon can set up the firing range.”

“Is my company that awful?” Miranda teased, surprised at the soft blush that touched his pale features.

“Not really,” he murmured before adding, “I just thought you would want to get off the bridge for a while.”

“Gideon mentioned that you’ve been studying the Gosher Riots,” Miranda noted, it was one of the topics she had been given to study recently, “Any thoughts?”

Surprise touched his face, and Rip replied, “One or two.”

 “You can’t seriously believe that?”

Rip shrugged, “All I’m saying is that it is highly unlikely.”

“All the evidence collected shows that it was what happened,” Miranda argued back, “Do you have anything to suggest otherwise?”

He mused for a second before nodding, “Druce let me borrow a diary from Helas that is part of his collection. The man who wrote it was a servant in the palace at the time.”

Miranda’s eyes lit up and she leaned forward, “You have one of the diaries onboard?”

Rip smiled at how excited she was at the prospect, “It’s in my quarters. I’ve been reading it the past few nights.”

“And you’re saying it disproves the theory?” Miranda demanded, as she started off the bridge.

Confused Rip followed her, “No, it actually claims that a chemical was used to start the whole thing.”

“So, you’re not a believer in the so called ‘Love Dust’?” Miranda laughed as she reached his rooms.

Rip rolled his eyes, “It’s preposterous. A chemical substance that makes you fall in love with another person is ridiculous.”

“Well,” Miranda noted, “To be fair it’s not falling in love, just an uncontrollable need for sex.”

Rip felt heat cover his neck again but thankfully Miranda wasn’t paying any attention to him as she just walked into his quarters and headed straight for his desk.

“Oh wow,” she murmured, gently lifting the diary up and turning a few pages, “This is incredible. Listen to this, ‘The sweet smell of the magical dust they covered the palace in filled the air and soon the floor was nothing but bodies, naked and writhing as they pleasured each other, their only intention to reach satisfaction’.”

Rip swallowed at the sound of her voice caressing each word.

“And what do you think of that?” Miranda asked amused.

“It’s a poetic description of an orgy that likely had more to do with copious quantities of alcohol than magical ‘love dust’,” Rip replied.

Miranda laughed, “Oh come on. Why can’t you believe in something that you are not able to put in a little box?”

“It’s preposterous,” he said again, “

“Well it’s not like we’ll ever know,” Miranda rolled her eyes before a mischievous smile touched her lips, “That time is forbidden so we couldn’t steal some to test it.”

Rip frowned at her, “What a shame,” adding sarcastically, “I really wanted to test your theory.”

“I have a small sample of the substance for you to try,” Gideon spoke up suddenly.

Before they could say anything the hiss of the air conditioning system preceded a sickly-sweet smell. Rip felt his head begin to swim, shaking it and blinking to clear his vision he tried to focus again. Miranda appeared before him, and it was like he was seeing her for the first time. Her dark eyes bright with her brilliant mind, her pale skin was glowing, a slight blush on her cheeks and then he focussed on her soft pink lips.

Rip found himself moving and pressed his lips to hers. Miranda’s arms locked around his neck pulling him close as their kiss deepened. Rip slammed into the wall as they stumbled slightly trying to get closer to each other.

Breaking apart for air, Rip trailed his lips down along her neck while she pushed his jacket off him. He moaned as Miranda’s hands suddenly slid along his stomach and in the back of his mind Rip realised that she’d undone his shirt.

It wasn’t long before their clothes were scattered over the floor and Miranda pulled him over to the bed.

 Rip rolled off Miranda, breathing heavily and lay at her side staring at the ceiling trying to work out what had possessed him to do something so stupid.

And then he remembered…

“Gideon,” he snapped, “What the hell did you drug us with?”

“It was the chemical that is known as ‘love dust’,” Gideon replied.

“Why on earth would you do that?” he demanded, trying not to look at Miranda, “Why would you…”

“You requested the chance to test Lieutenant Coburn’s theory, which I gave you. However, the dose I gave you wore off within twenty seconds,” Gideon told him, “Anything that happened after those twenty seconds came from you.”

At his side Rip heard Miranda begin to laugh.

“Rip,” Miranda said softly, touching his cheek so he would look at her. And she looked gorgeous with tousled hair and pink tinge to her glistening skin, “This wasn’t a bad thing.”

“It’s forbidden,” Rip reminded her.

Miranda shrugged, “What is? We’ve been stuck here for almost two weeks waiting for something that hasn’t happened yet. This was just a little…stress relief. That’s not against the rules.”

“Stress relief?”

A slow smile touched her lips and she lay on her side leaning on her elbow, “I’m feeling very relaxed and I’m sure you were too. Before you started having a panic attack.”

Rip stared at her.

“Well?” she slid closer to him, “Were you relaxed?”

Swallowing he nodded.

Miranda softly touched her lips to his again. When she broke the kiss, Miranda smiled at him before sliding out of the bed, not bothering to cover her naked form.

“I’m going to have shower,” she glanced over her shoulder, “If you’re feeling a little stressed again, you should join me.”

Rip lay frozen for several moments listening to the water start.

Stress relief…

He slid out of the bed and stepped into the shower room; Miranda smiled when she saw him through the steam. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close when he joined her.

“We should destress a little more,” Miranda murmured, before adding, “And I need help washing my hair.”

                                 *********************************************

 Miranda wandered to the galley to get some tea before heading up to the bridge to check if anything had happened. They’d been here almost a full month waiting for an attack which so far hadn’t appeared.

Since their first ‘stress relief’ session they’d spent every night together, and Rip was getting a lot more comfortable around her. It was amazing how different he was now he’d relaxed. Miranda knew Rip was smart, you had to be to even be considered to be a Time Master, but he had always been very quiet. Although she knew he was one of the top students of their class, Rip rarely spoke up amongst the others. Only doing so when he had something specific to say, which was usually disagreeing with her, so she’d never got a chance to watch his mind work until now. He had one of those minds that worked problems at angles, solving them in ways she hadn’t expected. It was incredible, and completely unexpected, how well they worked together.

After they had a ‘stress relief’ session each night, they would talk. Going over theories and ideas that they both had, they seemed to connect in a way Miranda had never thought was possible with anyone, never mind him.

She knew that once their mission was over, she had to ensure they continued to spend time together.

 “Yes, sir,” Rip said as Druce finished speaking, “I’ll tell Lieutenant Coburn.”

“Tell me what?” Miranda asked the moment Druce disappeared from the screen making Rip turn to find her walking onto the bridge.

He stood, “We’re being recalled.”

“Oh,” she grimaced, “Straight away?”

Rip smiled slightly, “No. They’re allowing us to witness the probe landing.”

“Oh,” Miranda grinned, “That means we have six hours.”

“Well actually six hours and nineteen minut…” he stopped as Miranda pressed her finger to his lips.

“That means,” she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, “We can ‘destress’ a few more times before we head back to base.”

Rip sighed, “This isn’t a good idea, Miranda. We both know what we’re doing, no matter how we label it, is against the rules.”

“Rip,” she breathed, “You have broken a lot of rules and gotten away with it.”

He winced, “But anytime I have done so was in the service of a mission. This is different.”

Miranda shook her head, “I don’t want to stop spending time with you. Even before Gideon dosed us, I was attracted to you, but I had no idea how you felt about me. We’re allowed to care for each other Rip, no matter what they say.”

“But…”

“Do you enjoy being with me?” Miranda asked firmly.

Rip stared at her for a few moments before whispering, “Yes.”

“We’re not hurting anyone,” she reminded him, “And considering how much time we will spend on missions mostly on our own then,” Miranda brushed her lips to his, “A little ‘stress relief’ can’t be frowned upon.”

He continued to stare at her, his mind going over and over everything.

“Unless this doesn’t mean the same to you as it does to me,” Miranda sighed.

She moved away and Rip caught her hand making her turn back.

“I don’t…I’ve never…” he took a quick breath, “I’ve never felt like this for anyone, Miranda.”

Stepping closer to him again, Miranda took his face in her hands and whispered, “Neither have I.”

Rip rested his forehead against hers, “I don’t know how to do this.”

Miranda kissed him, sliding her arms around his neck and pulling him close. When they parted, she murmured, “I don’t either, but we can learn together.”

Still holding onto her, Rip nodded, “Okay.”

“Now,” Miranda smiled, “We have just over six hours before we have to return to the Vanishing Point. Let’s ‘destress’ a few times before we go home.”

As she pulled him, Rip moved with her knowing he was in deep and realising he didn’t care.

                                 *********************************************

 “Lieutenant Hunter is not currently onboard,” Gideon spoke up as Druce stepped onto the Waverider.

“I know, Gideon,” he replied as he started through the corridors, “He’s currently being debriefed. I’m just here to retrieve the book he borrowed from me.”

“Of course,” she stated, “It is sitting on the desk inside his quarters.”

Druce nodded, “Thank you, Gideon.” Reaching the room he easily found the diary and lifted it, “Lieutenant Hunter will be busy for several hours, and a team will be fitting some new fabricators. Your scheduled self-diagnostic has been moved up to today.”

“I am not due for a self-diagnosis until next month,” Gideon noted.

Druce smiled, “I am aware of this, but this was the first long term mission you and the Waverider has been on since Rip repaired your systems. Soon you will be away from the Vanishing Point for extended periods of time and it’s best to ensure now that no problems will occur.”

“Your reasoning is sound, Time Master Druce,” Gideon told him, “I will alert Lieutenant Hunter that I have done this.”

Druce waited until he was sure Gideon was in diagnostic mode before he found the camera he’d set up in Rip’s room.

Rip and Miranda had a part to play in the future, but both had been annoyingly restrained despite the obvious attraction. He hoped this mission, with the planted chemical aphrodisiac, would push them where he needed them to go. In some ways they were both very predictable in what they would argue about and Druce just needed to ensure the material had been there.

Quickly checking through the film captured and smiled to himself as he watched the two of them getting intimate.

His plan was on track.

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 4

Holmes woke up not long after sunrise. I made sure he ate something, and we came out to see Gage waiting at the bar. "The Overboss wakes," he greeted, standing up. "Well, you came back in one piece. That's a good sign. Everything all peachy with our friendly neighborhood psychopaths?"

"'Peachy' isn't quite the adjective I'd use," Holmes said as he lit a cigarette. "The leaders have their doubts, but are willing to give me a chance."

Gage winced, "Hoo, boy. Not exactly what I was hoping for."

"Most of their doubts seem to come from the fact that this is your idea."

"Damn, they ain't gonna make this easy," Gage grumbled, and put a confident face on. "Ok, time to roll up your sleeves, boss. There's work to be done. See, this place is huge. Divided up into sections. Parks, whatever the hell they called 'em back in the day. We need to take 'em all back, one at a time."

"You hope that having more space will prevent the chance of someone… doing something rash."

Gage chuckled, "That's one way to put it. Every section we secure gives us a little more breathing room, and more resources. And it'd be good to have a few less threats surrounding us, too."

As much as I hated to admit it, it made sense. Gage was smarter than he looked. Spending time away from raider central might also be something Holmes and I could work to our advantage, assuming we survived.

Gage continued explaining, "You stake a claim, plant a little flag for one of the gangs, and that settles it. That park is theirs for good. Who gets what, that'll be your call. Whoever you hand it off to will appreciate it, but the others might get a little jealous. You know how it goes."

To say I was skeptical would be an understatement. "Plant a flag? Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," he shot me a hard stare and focused on Holmes. "Look, you leave it up to anyone else, the gangs'll all just fight over who deserves the space. Lot of these idiots can't read, so it needs to be as plain as day for them to get on board. They know what to watch for. So that's it. Nice and simple, right?" He grinned, "And hey—we're in this together, so I might as well go all-in. You want me watching your back, you just say the word."

"No thanks," I fumed.

Gage ignored me, but made his case to Holmes, "C'mon boss, you gonna turn down another gun?"

Holmes was unimpressed, "At this moment, yes. My partner and I are equipped to handle whatever this park may throw at us."

Gage shrugged, "Suit yourself. Change your mind, I'll be around."

Holmes took the sack of flags Gage had whipped up and we headed out.

“Are we really doing this?” I asked in a low voice as we walked.

“Clearing out the parks could be of use to the traders in the long run,” Holmes murmured back.

“Not if they’re populated with raiders,” I grumbled.

Holmes didn’t respond, and I started to get concerned as he kept walking all the way to the front gate. “Holmes. You think they’re going to let us…” Holmes walked right out the front gate of the park without anyone saying a word. “... never mind.”

Of course, it wasn’t hard to see why the raiders weren’t worried about us flying the coop. The collapsed remains of a highway decorated the vast emptiness in front of us, the dust of a post-apocalyptic parking lot, mountains in the distance.

My fingers brushed his, "Long walk back home."

The corner of his mouth quirked in the smallest grin. “Indeed. Come, we can talk without fear of being overheard if we stay outside the walls.” He started moving, following a walkway around the east side of the park. I followed close behind. “Hopefully we can find something in these other parks we can use to our advantage,” he said. “I also need more information on the threats Gage mentioned.”

“How about giant crickets?” I asked and drew my gun as three of the overgrown insects leaped straight for us.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Holmes said as he slashed at them with his blade.

Hopping horrors dispatched, we kept walking. “Wonder what other delightful surprises we’ll find,” I joked.

"Have you given any thought to Dr. Bridgeman's idea?" Holmes asked.

"Killing the leaders and hoping the rest of the raiders spontaneously give up?"

He chuckled at my skepticism. "She's at least correct in that the leaders will have to be killed."

"And all three live in places with only one way in or out."

"Perhaps we can turn them against each other somehow."

"All three at once?"

Holmes was pensive. I let him think.

“You realize we’re walking right toward the kid’s park?” I asked after a bit.

“What gave it away, the ferris wheel or the giant lollipops in front of the gate?”

“Don’t get snarky just because you’re in a bad mood.”

We walked through the gate to the Kiddie Kingdom. Right on cue, a voice came on over the ancient PA system, “Well now, friends, it seems we have another uninvited guest to the park.”

I sighed, “Sherlock, if we have to run through another goddamn gauntlet, then you’re sleeping on the sofa.”

He smirked as he drew his gun and I followed suit. “You don’t use the bed unless I’m in it, Nick.”

“It’s the principal of the thing.”

The voice over the speakers was still talking, a ringmaster to whatever twisted circus we’d just stepped into, “Up! Up, performers! It's time for another show! Though I doubt you'll even make it to the Theater, stranger.” We started moving further into the park, and Holmes’s Pip-Boy started clicking real fast. “Shall we take bets on where this one shuffles off? What do you think, friends, the tunnels? The Fun House?” The voice laughed maniacally, and ferals shambled out of the rust.

“That your geiger counter doing cartwheels?” I shouted to my partner as we fired on the ferals.

“Yes! And I don’t think it’s just the ferals!”

First batch of ferals down, I realized Holmes was right. There was a haze across the park, a radioactive mist. “It’s got nothing on Far Harbor’s fog,” I grumbled, “but we shouldn’t linger all the same.”

“Valentine, look at these ferals. They’re wearing face paint. It’s fresh, recently applied.”

“How the heck does a person get close enough to a feral to paint its face without losing a limb in the process?”

“Let’s find out,” he said, and headed further into the park.

Kiddie Kingdom may have delighted little kids back in the day, but now the confined walls and maze-like streets made navigating it difficult for two adults. Regular attacks from desiccated irradiated clowns didn’t help, nor did the mocking voice that followed us everywhere.

“Do you enjoy that lovely glowing mist?” the voice laughed as a feral knocked Holmes under a mist-sprayer turned deadly, “Feels great to us! Why, we've got sprayers all over Kiddie Kingdom to keep you cool and irradiated.”

I ran forward to help, shoving Holmes out of the way and blasting the feral in the head. It ain’t often I’m glad to be made of metal, but not having to worry about rads is definitely a perk. Holmes was already taking a RadAway when I turned back to him, a distance from the sprayers. “You alright?”

“I’ve been better,” he shrugged. “The man in charge here is a ghoul.”

“Yeah, figured as much. He said something about tunnels when we first got here, they’re probably lacking the mist sprayers.”

“Might be just as irradiated for other reasons,” Holmes nodded, “but worth investigating.”

“Where do we start?”

Holmes nodded over my shoulder, “Let’s try the Employees Only entrance over there.”

“Wise ass.”

The door was locked, but that’s never stopped Holmes before. If they wanted to keep people out, they should have bought a stronger lock. Once upon a time the tunnels would have been used to get employees where they needed to be and fix what needed fixing, without ruining the illusion of a fantasy world for the kids on the surface. Two hundred years later, a pair of old relics made their way inside, expecting the usual sorts of things one finds in tunnels these days; radroaches, ferals, mole rats of unusual size.

The bunk beds were a surprise.

Journal entries on a terminal answered a lot of the big questions. The employees of Kiddie Kingdom before the War had enough foresight, given the state of the world at the time, to make an emergency plan for just in case the world ended. And it paid off--they gathered everyone they could, employees and park guests alike, underground into the tunnels when the bombs fell. They were doing alright for themselves, until a radiation storm tore through. Lots of folks died from the radiation, and the rest became ghouls. They kept going, doing their best to defend their settlement and newfound family.

Then a hundred years later, some started to turn feral. They called it "The Affliction," thought it was an illness. Maybe it is, in a way. No one really knows what makes a ghoul go feral, but living near a radioactive water supply for a century probably didn't help. Now it seemed the only sane one left was the guy running this deadly show.

We made our way through the tunnels and overheard him talking, irritated. “What are you doing out of costume again? You know Nuka fires people for breaking character.”

A feral growled.

Holmes and I crept closer and got a glimpse into a windowed maintenance room. A man in a magician’s tuxedo and top hat was putting makeup on a ghoul. His back was to us, but he sounded just like the ghoul over the speakers.

"Yes, of course I'm kidding," he said to the feral, "but seriously, the clown make up helps scare the invaders off and there's a new one in the park."

The feral growled.

The magician sounded puzzled, "No. No, I don't think that's going to work this time. There's something different about this one."

An angrier growl this time.

The magician growled back. "See?" he said, irritated, "I can do that too. Now stop squirming."

The feral growled. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought it was apologizing.

The magician certainly thought so. "Sorry. I know you can't help it. We just have to hold out till she gets back with a cure. Then we'll drive the Raiders out and get the farm back in order."

Holmes and I shared a look. A cure? For ferals?

The magician continued, "We'll fix this. I promise." He put down the face paint, "There. Back in character. I need to prepare some more surprises for our visitor, so I'll leave you to find your way out."

That was our cue to get moving.

"A cure for ferals, Valentine!" Holmes's voice was hushed but no less firm. "That man is waiting for a cure that doesn't exist, and will probably keep doing so for eternity."

"All the folks here thought going feral was some sort of disease, makes sense they'd want a cure. Sounded like someone went out searching for one."

"If we can find him, perhaps we can talk some sense into him."

I frowned, "Hold on. I'm all for being noble, but I'm not keen on the idea of fighting more ferals and you getting a green suntan."

"We both know radiation doesn't cause super mutants--"

"I'm referring to how sick you're going to look dying of radiation poisoning!" I was irritated, thought I could hear the gears in my jaw grind.

“I’m not fond of the thought either. Yet, if we don’t have some evidence for our activities out here, we will attract suspicion from the raiders. The magician will have to leave eventually, and I would rather convince him through reason than violence.”

I sighed, “Alright. I don’t like it, but I guess you got a point. It would look bad if their big tough leader came crawling back without finishing the job he set out to do, and if they decide you’re the wrong man for the job, they'll put a bullet in your brain, or a collar around your neck. I don't even want to think about what they'd try to do to me."

He nodded, “We have to follow Gage’s plan, at least until we have the opportunity to contact the Commonwealth.”

“What’s that going to do?”

He grinned, “I have an idea.”

“You gonna share it with me?”

“Once we’re out of this death trap carnival. The first thing our ghoulish host said when we entered the park was that we would never make it to the theater, and the only place in this park with a theater is the castle. That's where he's waiting."

We exited the tunnels just in time to hear an ancient recording announce that tickets for Oswald the Outrageous’s magic show were sold out. At least we had a name for our tormentor. He was certainly living up to it.

Holmes was right; King Cola’s Castle was the park’s stage theater, where they’d put on a couple shows for the kids. One was a play, the other was a magic act. Now the magician was waiting for us on the stage, skin glowing under the brim of his hat. I’d heard stories about sentient glowing ones, dismissed them as just tall tales and rumors. Guess I was wrong.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d make it this far,” Oswald said as we entered. “I can tell you're different than the usual invaders, so I'll not bother with the usual tricks and illusions I use to scare off the superstitious.” Holmes and I kept walking, slowly getting closer to the stage while the showman had his moment, “When the bombs fell, everything changed. We changed. And somehow I received a gift. Actual magic. The stuff of legends. Perhaps you'd like to see some?”

Holmes and I shared a look and started moving faster.

We were too late. Like a wizard summoning a creature, and all the over-the-top theatrics he’d need to do it, Oswald commanded, “Up!” and an army of ferals rose from between the seats. “No matter what you do, I can heal my friends, and we will protect what is ours!”

“Damn it,” I shouted, “we’re not the ones you should be fighting!”

You don’t get a whole lot of chances to chat when a feral’s trying to chew your limbs off, so Holmes and I focused on the fight, just trying to get through until we could reach the mad magician.

“Well, it seems your asinine assault won't be dissuaded,” the glowing ghoul finally decided. “Then I guess it's time for our final act. Join me on the roof of King Cola's Castle and we'll see an end to this production.”

And he was gone in a puff of smoke.

“Holmes,” I grumbled, “it takes a lot to get me angry. This guy’s done it.”

Holmes nodded, “All of this unnecessary drama is certainly exhausting.”

I laughed a little, couldn’t help it, “Yeah? That’s funny coming from you.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we manage to convince him to see reason, the two of you could compare notes. It’s a shame you didn’t bring the Shroud outfit.”

Holmes rolled his eyes and tried not to smirk.

Oswald waited on the roof, like he’d said, a serrated sword in hand. “I'm not going to let you kill any more of my friends. This is our home, not yours.”

“We’re not the ones who just summoned an army of ferals to attack us,” I said. “Only thing we’ve done since stepping foot in this place was defend ourselves.”

“You invaders are all the same! You come in, steal whatever you can, kill the ‘monsters’ so you can take our home!” He sneered, “How many so-called ‘ferals’ have you needlessly slaughtered while ignorantly thinking you're doing the world a favor?!”

“Oswald,” Holmes said, and the man jumped. I imagine it had been a while since he’d heard his name said by something that wasn’t a recording. “We read the terminals in the tunnels. We know the radiation changed you and your friends, but you turned this place into a home… until your friends started getting sick. Are you the only one left?”

Oswald was suspicious, but when he answered he just sounded tired, “Over time, the illness took the minds of my friends... and those that we love.” Determined, he stated, “I am going to find a cure, and fix my friends before someone like you comes along and exterminates us all.”

“In two hundred years, no one has learned what causes a ghoul to turn fer- to get sick,” Holmes tried. “The only thing that is certain is that they don’t change back. It’s too late.”

“You're wrong!” Oswald shouted, angry, “Rachel is going to find a way to cure them, we're going to fix this!

“Who’s Rachel?” Holmes asked, alert.

Oswald calmed a little bit, but was no less defiant, “My beloved left this place years ago to find a cure to this disease. In return, I swore that I'd keep our people safe by defending our home. When Rachel walks back through those gates with the cure in hand, then you'll see, everyone will see, that I was right!”

“What if she never returns? How long are you going to wait?”

“I will stay here for as long as it takes. I've already watched two hundred years pass, what makes you think I can't wait two hundred more?”

I put a hand on Holmes’s shoulder, “Let the immortals talk this one out,” I said softly. He was about to protest, but Oswald was finally paying attention.

“I’ve never seen anything like you before,” he said.

I shrugged, “I imagine synths don’t make it out this way much. I don’t doubt for a moment you’ve got the fortitude to wait for eternity. You’ve done good, keeping this place safe. But I gotta ask… if you’re here defending the castle, who’s left to save the damsel in distress?”

He was alarmed, “Distress?”

“You haven’t heard from her in years. What if she needs your help?”

He shook his head, “I told her she shouldn’t, but she insisted… if I hadn’t been here, the raiders would have taken everything, killed all of our friends, family…”

Holmes stepped in, “Even if she’s safe, no one has been able to find a cure. To the best of my knowledge, no one’s ever tried. Such a discovery might well take two hundred more years, and if Rachel is going to succeed, she’s going to need help.”

Oswald was quiet for a long time. “Maybe you're right,” he said, subdued. “If Rachel is still out there, I'll find her and we'll search for this cure together.” He straightened up, “I'll gather what remains of my friends and we'll leave this place. Don't worry about the radiation, it will no longer be a burden to you and your kind…” he looked at me, “though I suppose it never bothered you at all, did it?”

“Nope,” I said. “Word of warning, if you see anything that looks like me, minus the fashion sense, it’s probably not friendly.”

He nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He handed Holmes his sword, “Here, you should have this. Consider it an apology for misjudging you. Farewell.”

And he was gone, in a puff of smoke.

“Alright,” I lit a cigarette, “I’ll admit it. That trick’s neat.”

We both knew this Rachel was probably dead, but it didn't seem like telling Oswald that would have helped. And who knows? Maybe she really is trapped in a tower, waiting for rescue.

It's a pretty thought, anyway.

[fatandnerdy30]

The Itsy Bitsy Spider 13

WOOHOO!!! Another chapter is done! I don't know where this story is going, but I want it to have some more cute small Peter fluff in it, so I'm probably going to deviate from the plot line a little bit, also to get more chapters in hopefully lol. As always, don't forget to comment because I love hearing from you guys!! Later!

Helen Cho stared at the boy for a moment, before she took action. "I'll need an X-ray of the his entire body!" The medical team nodded and burst into action. She directed Tony to one of the beds. "Put him there," she said. "Easy," she whispered as Tony transferred the boy from his hand onto the mattress just below the pillow. "Mommy! Daddy!" Morgan cried out from where she was being treated, trying to push the doctors away. "Hold still, sweetheart," the man treating Morgan said patiently, but the girl wasn't having it. "No! I need to see Peter!" the girl shouted. "And you will, honey. But, we need to clean your hands a little, okay? We need to make sure there's no rocks or glass in your cuts." He smiled at the girl and waited patiently. "You want to sit next to Peter?" Pepper asked with a soft smile.Morgan nodded at this, sliding off the bed that she was on and stood in between her parents. "Is he gonna be okay?" she asked. Tony nodded. "Yeah, Morguna. He'll be fine." "Okay. You know, he's like my little big brother," she said, shocking the two adults. "I really like him. I wish he could stay with us, but I know he can't. He told me about his aunt, and how much he missed her the day we played hide and seek." Pepper looked at Tony and the man nodded. "Well, when all of this is over, and he's able to go home, he'll be able to visit whenever he wants." Morgan's face lit up. "Really?" she asked, and her father nodded. One man brought a cleaning solution and two chairs over to Morgan and her parents. Pepper placed her daughter on her lap and watched as the nurse that was treating Morgan before was back with a warm smile on his face as he dipped the girl's hands into the warm solution. Another person brought the portable scanner and held it over Peter's body, snapping a few pictures of the boy's bones before handing it to Helen, who expanded it into a holographic form to get a better look. And she wished she hadn't. She hadn't seen someone this bad since Tony had battled the Hulk. One thing that caught her attention was that his ankle was already trying to repair itself, mending the bones where they were. That was not good. "Peter," she crouched down to see the boy on his level. "Your bones are already healing, but they're healing incorrectly, which is dangerous. I'm sorry, but we'll have to re-break the ankle and set it properly." Plus, she would have to figure out how the boy was already healing. "Without knowing your weight and height, we can't put you to sleep for this, but we can give you something to numb the pain if we have time." "Height is approximately three inches, weight is five point two ounces," Friday told them. Shit that was small. Tony didn't realize how small the kid was. "Okay, okay, we can deal with that.." he whispered. The boy shook his head with a groan. "Won't work," he ground out as a wave of pain hit him. "Scientists tried all sorts of drugs to put me to sleep, poison me, you name it. But I burned through everything too fast." Helen's eyes widened. What the hell had happened to this boy? "Okay, so we can't do pain pills. It will be over in a minute, Peter. Just bear with me, I'll try and be as gentle as I can. But, I'm going to have to cut the clothes you have on, though." She moved and towered over the boy, snipping what she had to of the clothing that was left, then, with her hands poised over the broken bone, she stopped. How was she supposed to fix this? She had never worked with such a small patient before and was afraid she would hurt him even more. But, she had to. So, steeling herself, the doctor moved the magnifying lens over the boy and gripped the small leg, feeling the small bones against her fingertips. Then she tried gripping the boy's foot, but it was too small. Someone then handed her a pair of forceps and she looked up to see Mr. Stark staring at her, his eyes clearly said he was worried.Steadily she took Peter's foot into the metal grips and flicked the tool a bit, hearing a 'snap' and the boy cried out and went limp a second later. Quickly she moved the bones into place. "Friday, give me an analysis," she ordered shakily. "All bones are connected," the AI said. "Heart beat and blood pressure is elevated, breathing is shallow but even." Doctor Cho breathed and went to setting the unbelievably small ankle into place, using two small blunt pins she was handed as a splint, then wrapped the entire leg in gauze. She repeated the process on Peter's wrist. "The shoulder will be tricky. Mr. Stark, hold him down for a minute." Tony nodded and placed a hand over the boy gently. "It'll be alright, kid," he whispered to the unconscious teen. Helen pushed on the boy's shoulder as much as she could, and the joint popped back into place, Peter let out a whimper in his passed out state, then quieted. Morgan, who had watched the whole thing, wanted nothing more than to comfort her friend, but her hands were being wrapped as well, so she just cried for him as the nurses started treating the smaller things that could wait and cleaned his bloody feet. "It's all over," the nurse told Morgan, his voice patient and kind. "It's all done. He's safe now." He smiled at her. Morgan glanced over at her friend on the bed, reaching for her father's hand, which gripped hers carefully over the bandages. "He'll be fine," Tony said, more as a mantra to himself. "He'll be fine.." Morgan looked at the boy's ripped and cut clothes when she remembered the gift she made for Peter. "Daddy," she whimpered when she reached into her pocket. "I..I made this for Peter..." She brought out the small cloth bag and with a wince, pulled out what looked like what the boy was wearing when they first found him. Tony gently took the outfit and turned it between his thumb and pointer, seeing the duct tape holding the legs together, the blue and red material evenly distributed through the arms and legs and the silver Hydra sigil gone. "This...this looks so good, Morguna. I'm sure Peter will love it." Morgan smiled. "I can't use needles, so maybe you or mommy can sew it." Pepper hugged her daughter tighter. "I will, baby. Come on, let's go get something to drink. We'll come back later when Peter's awake.. And thank you, whoever fixed Morgan's hands." The nurses and doctors smiled and nodded, watching them go. ~~~~~~~ Helen waited until Morgan was out of the room before turning on Tony. "Mr. Stark, who and what is this boy?" Her voice was angry, hateful. Tony shook his head, running his hand over his face. "I don't know what to tell you. He kind of...fell into my grasp one day. Little accident." He didn't want to go into detail with Helen. He trusted her medical judgement, but she answered to Fury. And he didn't want that man anywhere near Peter. At least not yet. "No, I will not tolerate that answer. Did you do this to him?" "No, definitely not," he denied vehemently. "I would never hurt a kid, you should know that." he said lowly. The doctor studied him with narrowed eyes before nodding. "Alright. We'll keep an eye on him overnight. You're welcome to stay with him, if you need to, but I will be in the room if you do." The man nodded, pulling his chair over and sitting. "Yes, I need to. You," he pointed to a male nurse. "You do Starbucks runs, right?" "My staff are not your personal errand boys," Helen snapped. "I pay them, so I get to order them to do what I want. He's not busy, are you?" The man shook his head. "See? It's fine. Friday will send you what to order." He set his eyes on the man, raising his brows. "Well? Go on, go, shoo." he waggled his fingers at the nurse and he practically ran from the room. "See what happens when you're above everybody's pay grade?" Helen shook her head and walked out, a frown on her face. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hammer was angry. No, he was more than that. He was absolutely livid. He'd gotten the best droids he could get with Hydra's help, had them boosted with his own weaponry, and they still lost! What was worse, one of the droid's also had the thing in its grasp! Adrian turned to look at the man as soon as Hammer walked into the garage. Toomes had anger  written on his face, a tool in his hands. "A kid?" he asked in a demanding tone. "Hydra wants us to steal back a kid from the Avengers, after Hydra did who knows what to him!?" The man had seen what the bot was after, the screen in his goggles, and he was still in shock, which had gotten his wings broken. "He's just a fucking child! I would say he's in better hands with the Avengers!" Justin just stared at him, giving a confused smile. "Are you saying you're out of the deal? Because, if so.." he pulled out his phone, slowly bringing it to his ear. "NO!" Toomes screamed, making Herman and Phineas jump. "I'm going to keep my family safe, so that means I'm not backing out. I'll go along with your plans...but this time, I'll be acting alone. NO help from you, you got it? You almost killed that kid, today. I won't have that blood on my hands." Hammer nodded and sat. "Okay, okay, I hear you. Hydra never said they wanted him back alive, but I think they would appreciate that he were living." Toomes glared at him. "I'll keep a watch on him and see when I can grab him. You stay out of it. Me and my guys will handle everything from this point on." He was going to get his family back, then live with the money he'd made and get out of this business. He had to if this is what it brought for them all. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Peter woke to not so subtle pangs of pain and the boy's brows furrowed as he opened his eyes, rolling his head to the side. He winced from the bright light, hand going in front of his face. He felt the soft mattress shift and dip a lot. "May?" he asked, hope lighting his voice. "Sorry, kiddo," Mr. Stark's voice was closer than normal and Peter turned to see the man leaning his head on the bed, massive eyes focused on the boy closer than they'd ever been. "I can call Natasha in if you need an Aunt Hottie," he joked. "Ha ha," the boy groaned when he tried to sit up, holding his middle when his ribs protested, so he laid back down. "Where are we?" He looked at everything, taking it in and studying everything he could. "Med bay. You got pretty banged up out there." Suddenly Peter's eyes went wide and he tried to sit up again, struggling against Mr. Stark's finger that kept him down. "Morgan," he gasped. "How is Morgan?" "She's fine, bud. Just a few scrapes and bruises." They were lucky nothing worse happened to her. "That's good." He moved his shoulders and hissed when they burned. "Note to self, do not lift a child until I'm back to normal," he joked. "Oh yeah, I was wondering about that." Mr. Stark's head popped up and his finger moved from Peter's chest to his face, pulling his chin to look at him gently. "How in the hell were you able to lift a five year old, who is clearly at least one thousand times your weight?" The teen's nerves took over at the look the man gave him, then it hit him. Mr. Stark was busy with the droids to see what had happened. He couldn't really explain it either, actually. "I-I don't know," he answered shakily. "I really don't, Mr. Stark..." he shook his head, wincing when it caused him some pain. "All I knew was that she was in danger, and I had to do something." She was like his little sister, and he couldn't let the girl just fall to her death. "Hmm....I'm starting to agree with Steve and his 'tests', of the non sciency variety." "Does that mean I get to train with the Avengers?" the boy asked, excitement making his face glow bright. "Well, not exactly." Mr. Stark finally removed his finger when it looked like Peter was going to stay down.  "And, I know this is gonna suck, but you have to stay in bed for at least three days, just to monitor you before you're allowed to move on your own. The good news is you're allowed to be in your own room." Peter tried to argue that he was fine, but Tony wouldn't have it. "Not my call. Be mad at Dr. Cho, whom I agree with totally." He sighed. "But, all kidding aside....I want to thank ou for what you did. You saved my whole world back there." And, what he didn't want to admit to the kid, he'd almost lost a piece under asphalt. "And for that, I know you've been feeling cooped up, and I'm to blame for most of it. But, I think we can have a little leeway for you. Only upstairs in my suite, and in Bruce's lab, are you allowed on the floor to walk around. We will have a talk with Morgan, too. But, I think I can remember to look down through the night, and I'll have a reason to use those floor lamps I installed. I already built and installed a tiny bathroom in your room on your nightstand, as well as put one of the Avenger's tubs you liked so much there, too." Peter blushed at the mention of that. "Thank you," he mumbled, meaning it. It was amazing that he was finally going to get to walk around by himself without being carried, although he was sure Mr. Stark enjoyed it. He jumped and winced when the man clapped and stood. "Okay, let's get you settled and I'll let Morgan know you're in your room, okay? And I'm pretty sure Pepper wants to see you, too. Probably give you a big sloppy kiss. Lucky." He winked at the bandaged boy who gagged.

@letsbeinspiredby @sparrowrider @carttorchdeatth @6inchicon @ixlovexirondad

[mons1erprom]

The main casts reaction to their s/o having depression/self harming?

Before we begin, I’d like to provide to you the suicide hotline, the self harm hotline, the depression hotline, as well as the crisis textline if you are having such thoughts. (US only for now. If anyone wishes to add crisis hotlines from anywhere else in the world, you’re more than welcome.)

Suicide Hotline: 1 (800) 273-8255

Self Harm Hotline: 1 (877) 455-0628

Depression Hotline: 1 (888) 640-5174

Crisis Textline: Text “CONNECT” to 741741

And as a note, let’s make this the last angsty headcanon set for now, please? Hopefully when asks are open again and we’ve cleaned out our inboxes and drafts, we’ll get some more uplifting ones. Thank you.

We now return to your regularly scheduled headcanons.

~ Magic Mod & (temp)Frosty

Oz: Oz makes you promise. Promise not to hurt yourself any more. He begs you. He just can’t stand seeing those injuries on your body. Blood already terrifies him to no end, but seeing the one he loves in pain is even worse. He’s scared too. He just wants to help so badly… He loves you.

Amira Rashid: Amira’s more angry than anything. She tries her best to not let her temper get the better of her as she tries to figure out… why? Why this? She’s a genie, so she could try to have you wish these thoughts away. However, it’s not that easy. Still, she’ll do all she can to help. She loves you.

Brian Yu: He hesitates. Something is familiar about this, but he can’t put his finger on it. He grows protective. He says he just wants you to be safe, but wants you to be happy. He’ll blame himself if this happens again, knowing he wasn’t there for you. He needs to be there for you. For your sake and his. He loves you.

Vicky Schmidt: Vicky… despite her bubbly exterior, she’s been there. She goes to sit down with you and tells her about her depression and self harm. Won’t go into detail here to avoid triggering those suffering from depression. She’ll recommend you her own therapist, or even help search for others with you to find the right one to suit your needs. She loves you.

Damien LaVey: Damien thinks you’re trying to give yourself a body mod like he did when he broke off his horn or tried to give himself guns for hands. But… this is different. He stops you to ask what you’re doing. You tell him and he offers to beat up whoever made you feel like this. Thankfully, that won’t be necessary. What he does do is make sure you feel loved! He loves you.

Liam de Lioncourt: Liam… Liam wouldn’t know what to say. Without trying to cause you harm any further he just… holds you in silence. He’s lost too many in his life to count, but if this is the one loss he can prevent, he’s gonna take that opportunity and not waste it. For someone as immortal as him, he knows life is not something to take for granted… and he wants you to realize that. He loves you.

Miranda Vanderbilt: Miranda just can’t understand. Why would anyone do such a thing to themselves? Her first instinct is to order you to stop, but she’s never been more afraid. She looks for something she can easily identify as the problem, like some awful curse, but her search is in vain. She doesn’t know how to fix everything… but that won’t stop her from trying to be the light in your life… your lifeline. She loves you.

Polly Geist: One would think that Polly approaches this very simplistically: if you’re sad, then you need to party more, right? Wrong. As soon as she catches wind of even suggesting self-harm, her attitude totally changes. She’s like a whole different monster. Instead of following the same sex-and-drugs routine, she invites you to more… fulfilling activities. Watching the sunrise, a nice dinner, even devoting an hour or so to just cuddling. Life is full of pleasures and joys… she wants to remind you of that. She loves you.

Scott Howl: Scott panics almost immediately and tries to intervene. Seeing you like this hurts him as much as it hurts you. He starts to wondering if there was anything he did that made you feel this way. He offers to be your therapy dog because he doesn’t want to see you like this ever again. He loves you.

Vera Oberlin: Depression is one thing. Self-harm is another. And neither sits well with Vera. She knows she can come off as cold, harsh, even downright despicable at times. That’s the last thing you need right now. Vera becomes more affectionate around you. She holds your hands, kisses you, hugs you more often… but she doesn’t let you see her tears. She loves you.

Calculester Hewlett-Packard: All living beings have an instinct for self-preservation. But its more than that. People want to live on, long after their gone, by making a mark on the world. At least, that’s how Calculester understands it. To harm one’s self, to try and end it early… it bewilders him. He still has a lot to learn about love and life. He needs his teacher. He needs you. He loves you.

Zoe: She introduces you for healthy ways to vent about your issues. Her? She writes, draws, anything to keep herself from thinking these dark thoughts. Until you’re able to get help, she’ll do all she can to make sure you’re fighting your demons productively. She loves you.

From all of us here, no matter what happens, you are loved. Don’t forget that.

[marvelmymarvel]

Old Memories, Same Crush

Part 1/3

George Luz x Medic!Reader

Synopsis: You knew George Luz from Rhode Island where you both went to high school. You had a major crush on him, but being the nerd and him being the class clown made it seem impossible. You got over your crush once you joined the Airborne, but then you run into him again. Something blooms.

Trigger Warning: Bullying

A/N: This was requested I just added some more details. It was basically just that the reader knew George from Rhode Island to whoever requested that, thank you and I’m sorry for the late posting. 

Reader Info: Birthday is July 5th, 1923

George Info: Birthday is June 18th, 1921

PS: Just so you know. I did so much research. And this is by far my favorite thing that I have ever written. Masterpiece. 

PSS: Anything in italics is a flashback. 

Story 1: Old Memories, Same Crush (1, 2, 3)

Story 2: Tomorrow Is Another Day (1, 2, 3)

Story 3: TBD

June 1st, 1942; Toccoa, Georgia: 18 Years Old

Your breath hitched as you saw him. “Shit” you whispered out as Eugene turned to look at you strangely. “What's wrong?” he asked quietly as you both watched the men from Easy company approach the medical station where all of the new medics were being trained. You looked down before moving to the back without answering him. “Y/n” he called out as he went after you as you stood at one of the tables, getting the supplies ready to give the men their shots. “Y/n” he whispered lowly as the men came in and were ordered to take a seat. ‘He won't know you y/n. He never did’ you reminded yourself, “I’m fine Eugene, just nervous is all” you whispered out before clearing your throat and looking down the line of men who sat nicely against the wall. Your eyes purposefully skipped over George and they landed on the farthest one from the door. “Who’s first” you stated sweetly as you held up a needle. You could practically see the blood drain out of some of the men's faces and you stifled back a laugh at seeing big men being afraid of such a little thing. The man you were looking at stood up and walked over to you bravely as if he wasn't afraid. You raised your eyebrows at him playfully before looking at his name tag.

“Private... Liebgott” you stated before throwing him a half smile, “You’re certainly brave” you chuckled out as he sat on the table cockily. “A man can't show weakness in front of a beautiful and available woman” he purred out smoothly as he took off his jacket, making you give out a mocking ‘Ooooo’ at his failed attempt of impressing you. “I’m impressed Private” you challenged as you came closer to his now bare arm, cleaning it, you pressed the needle to his skin. “Tell me though” you began softly as you pressed down, his breath caught at the stinging feeling and your eyebrows raised in fake surprise, “What makes you think I’m available” you muttered out before pulling out the needle and grabbing his jacket. Handing it to him, you saw a scowl on his face and you just smiled sweetly at him as he didn't answer. You prayed none of the other men would hit on you. Although, you wouldn't complain about one. “Next” you called out finally as Joe jumped off the table and stormed away. 

December 12th, 1939; West Warwick, Rhode Island: 16 Years Old

Your nose was pressed into the medical book that you were currently obsessed over. ‘Weird girl’, that's what they seemed to call you. You didn't like normal books like ‘The Wizard of Oz’ or ‘The Great Gatsby’, and while you had a special place for ‘Gone With The Wind’ you liked medical books. The kind that talked about diseases and how to stop a man from bleeding out to death. Your back was pressed against the wall in the hallway, knees up so your book could rest on them. It was lunchtime, and since you didn't really have anyone to sit with in the lunchroom, you usually brought your own lunch and ate alone. You didn't really mind. It was time away from the boys who teased you all day for always carrying around a medical book. It was time away from the girls who mocked you for wearing pants instead of skirts like they normally did. 

‘Weird girl.’ You could practically hear the boys teasing you as you turned the page. Your mind wandered as you tried to read the paragraph over and over again, but you couldn't focus. Sighing, you slammed your book closed and grabbed your lunch sack as you set your book on the ground. Your book was kicked down the hall and you looked up at the culprit as they grabbed your arm and yanked you up. He slammed your back into the wall and you dropped your lunch sack in terror. “Hey weird girl, whatcha reading?” Mason snarled down into your face as you recoiled back in disgust. Normally, girls would love to be in this position, what with Mason being the Quarterback for the high school football team. But for you, this was a nightmare that you lived almost every day. “James!” Mason called back to his friend who grabbed your book from the ground. “What's she reading today!?” 

You watched in horror as James opened it and dangled it by its cover. “I don't know but it has naked men in here” he chuckled out before looking at you seriously. He lifted it up and grabbed the cover with his other hand, “You’re such a little freak” James snarled out before he ripped the cover off. “NO” you cried out as you tried to push out of Mason’s arms but he just pressed you into the wall harder. You began to weep as you watched the book, that your dad gave you for your birthday, being torn to pieces. “Aww weird girls crying” Mason taunted as he cupped your chin and made you look back at him. Your lip quivered as you felt your whole heart shatter into a million pieces. This was the farthest the two have ever gone, and you were afraid of how much farther they could and would go. “Hey... Leave the girl alone you decorated little asshole” you heard someone else call out. You ripped your head out of Mason’s grip as he let go of you completely. He turned back to the new person and you peered around his shoulder. Your breath caught and your heart stopped at the sight of him standing there like the savior that he was in that moment. Just like Rhett Butler, ready to save the day. The way the cigarette dangled from his lips made you swoon, but the way he was looking at Mason, made your knees weak. 

George Luz. 

While you two never actually talked nor did you actually, well, okay you knew him.... but he didn't know you. “Luz, mind your own business.” Mason snapped out as James dropped your book and came up next to his friend. You swiftly moved over to your ruined book in despair. As you lowered yourself to the ground, you quietly sniffled as you tried to round up the pages to hopefully fix the book. “Well, I was minding my own business, but you harming an innocent girl is kind of my business, Coleman” George snapped out angrily as he grabbed the cigarette out of his mouth and let the smoke flow out of his lips. “Hey, listen, if you don't leave us alone I’m gonna tell Patty that she can't go to prom with you-” James began but George had enough and let out a dark chuckle. 

“So fucking what, your sister’s ugly anyway” George cut him off before throwing the cigarette on the ground and looking over to you. He nodded for you to leave and you didn't even think to argue. Holding your shredded book tightly to your chest, you ran down the hall and heard James scream something at George before grunts and the sounds of punches followed. You turned the corner and flew into a supply closet. Slamming the door closed, you pressed your back to the door in shock as you slid down it. Still gripping the book tightly to your chest, you sniffled as you brought it down and looked at it. You could fix it.

Couldn't you?

June 1st, 1942 Toccoa, Georgia: 18 Years Old. 

30 Minutes Later

All the men came and went, each shot getting easier and faster to do. Then there was one man left. “Private Luz” you greeted him as if he was someone new and not someone who you had a major crush on back in high school, some 3 years ago. Was it really that long ago? He smiled at you before extending his hand for you to shake. Your breath caught as your heart began to pound.

Nothing changed. 

You grabbed his hand boldly and shook it before letting go and motioning for him to the table. He was the last one and you were the only medic still in the building, meaning you two were alone. He took off his jacket and you grabbed another shot to give him. Turning back you walked over to him with a bright smile, your hands were shaking. ‘Stop it Y/n. Quit shaking’ you scolded yourself as you grabbed his bicep. You didn't look at him, but you could feel him watching you in confusion. “Do I know you?” He asked quietly as you pressed the needle into his muscle, you looked up at him innocently as you pressed the medicine through the syringe and into his body. You shook your head as you looked down softly before pulling out the needle and rubbing the spot tenderly. “Sorry Private” you whispered out as you looked back at him before backing away, “I’ve never seen you in my life” you stated a little firmer as you tried to give him a confident smile. But you couldn't hide the quivering of your lips at how close you were to him in that one moment. It was something you prayed for, you thought as you turned around to set the needle in the bin as you heard him put his jacket on. “My mistake then” he muttered out before hopping off the table, “But, it was nice meeting you....”

“Y/n” you whispered out as you turned back to him, “My names Y/n.”

He nodded at that and gave you a dazzling smile. “Its a pleasure meeting you, Y/n. I hope to see you around more” he stated before turning and walking towards the door. You built up the courage to say something and you wished you stayed silent.

“You too George” you stated and he stopped in his tracks before turning back to you. “Did I tell you my name?” He asked and your cheeks heated up, realizing that you just gave yourself away. “I know all of the men's names, I just act like I don't know them to make them not feel uncomfortable,” you said quickly. It was bullshit.

But he bought it. 

He smiled at you once more before nodding and heading out the door. Letting out a deep breath, you looked up at the ceiling. Old memories kept coming back.

December 21st, 1939; Boston, Massachusets: 16 Years Old

You fought through the crowd to get to the line. ‘Gone With The Wind’ was just released and showing in Boston earlier than it would be showing in Providence. You had to practically beg your dad to let you take two buses and a train up by yourself. But this, this was all worth it. You were alone, but what else was new. You managed to be one of the last people to get a ticket and you quickly got some popcorn and hurried to your seat. While you certainly loved medical books, ‘Gone With The Wind’ had a special place in your heart. The way Rhett Butler drove Scarlett O'Hara mad, made you swoon. You wanted someone like that. Someone that you would love to hate, but just can't. Someone like-

“Is this seat taken?”

Your head snapped up to see none other than George Luz standing in front of you. Your jaw dropped a little in shock and he just raised his eyebrows as if questioning why you were looking at him strangely. Wasn’t it normal for a man like him to go see a movie like this...

Oh right, because it wasn’t normal. 

“Uh... No” you stuttered out as you watched him turn and plop down beside you. Where you breathing? Did you smell okay? Oh God, could he tell you were sweating? What if he touched your leg?! Don't be ridiculous Y/n, of course not, he wouldn't touch you, he doesn't even know your name. The thoughts raced round and round in your brain as you stared straight forward. But you could feel his eyes on you in the dimly lit movie theater. Turning your head slowly, you caught him staring with a smirk on his lips. Snapping your head back forward, your face heated up in embarrassment as you readjusted yourself in the seat. “You okay” he whispered in your ear making you jump once more in your seat, popcorn flying a little in fear. “Jesus” you hissed out as your cheeks reddened from embarrassment as you turned to glare at him. He chuckled lightly before turning back to the screen as the lights began to dim fully. The movie came up and you turned from him to the screen. Some time passed and he built up the courage to tell you his name. Truth be told, he couldn't stop thinking about you since the day he saved you from those two idiot’s. He had never seen you before. “I’m George, by the way” he whispered out to you but you were already so engrossed in the movie that you didn’t hear him and he died out. It wouldn't matter anyway, whether you liked him or not. He was dropping out of the school, now that he was 18 and all, he could finally do it. And he would never see you again. 

Or so he thought.

August 10th, 1942; Toccoa, Georgia: 19 Years Old

You were reading outside of the mess hall. ‘Gone With The Wind’ perched in between your fingers as you bit into your apple before turning the page with your finger. You were at your favorite part when you heard someone clearing their throat. Looking up, you saw Lieutenant Sobel towering above you. “Yes sir?” you asked calmly, normally when a tall man with such authority towered over you like this, you’d quake. But dealing with bullies all your life, he was nothing more than that. “That's contraband Private” he growled out and your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as you looked down at your book. “It’s just a book-” but he snatched it out of your hand before you could argue back. “HEY! THAT’S MINE” You screamed as you jumped up and tried to grab it back. “You aren't a paratrooper yet, Private, you don't have any personal property” he growled down at you before backing up and smelling the book creepily. Your lip trembled as you looked at the book, “Please sir, it's my favorite book and it’s all that I have left from home. Please” you begged as you stepped forward. He just cocked an eyebrow at you before looking at the book once more. Just then the doors to the mess hall opened and all of the men came out. Some staring at your distraught face, some staring at the book, and some staring at Sobel. They all knew, though, what was going on. Sobel sighed deeply before grabbing the cover, “No!” you screamed out but he was already ripping it to shreds. You just stood there silently sobbing as he ripped up your heart just like the boys did back in school. Dropping the shredded book to the ground, he cocked his head before stepping forward and grabbing your chin. Lifting your face to look at him, he leaned down. “Get back to work, Private” he snarled before ripping his hand away and storming off. Your lips trembled as you let out a little-broken cry before going to your knees to grab the book, or what remained of it. Eugene was almost to your side to help and comfort you, but someone else beat him to it. All the men just stood in shock as the worst man on this planet, tore apart you of all people, the sweetest girl they had ever met. All over a book. You looked up shakily as he helped you pick up the book. 

George Luz. 

How ironic.

You sniffled and he looked up at you as he gathered the pages. “Hey don't cry sweets, we can fix this book...” George trailed off as he looked around you both at all the shocked men. “Hey, fellas can you move out please, give us some room” George begged and they moved quickly, but they left with heavy hearts. You sniffled before looking back down at the cover that was split in two. “Why did he even do this” you whimpered out and he just shook his head at you before grabbing the cover from your hand. “I knew some fellas back in my old high school who used to pick on a girl kinda like you. They ripped up her anatomy book until I came and stopped them. I had never seen such a distraught girl before” George muttered out as he finally got the book gathered. He stood up and put out a hand for you to grab, which you happily took. “Did she deserve it?” you asked quietly. You weren't necessarily putting the blame on yourself, but you were trying to act dumb.

“A sweet girl like her? No way,” he answered boastfully as if it was the only correct answer in the world. “No, that girl deserved nothing but the best.”  You nodded as you two approached the barracks, but you smiled softly at his sweet words about you, unbeknownst to him of course. The men were changing for PT, and you had to go to training of your own. He handed you the book and you just smiled at him before taking it. “Thank you, George” you stated as you turned to leave, but stopped as another thought came to your mind. Turning back, you built up the courage, “For everything.”

Before he could question what else he did for you, you took off towards Eugene who was waiting for you. He saw you drop something and he walked towards it to grab it for you. He opened his mouth to yell your name, but then he saw it was the cover of the book. Smiling lightly to himself, he dropped down and picked it up. He’d keep it. He’d fix it. 

He’d fix you.

May 18th, 1942; West Warwick, Rhode Island: 18 Years Old

A year and a half had passed since you saw George Luz. The boys left you alone and the girls became less bratty. You didn't know if it was thanks to George on that fateful day, or if maybe they were growing out of the ‘bully’ phase. Either way, graduation was incredible. But you couldn't help but look around the crowd for a familiar face. Where was George Luz? “Y/n!” your father called out as you pushed through the crowd to find them. You passed Mason and gave him a toothy smile, “Weird girl” he growled and you just winked at him. “See you in hell Coleman” you called back as you pushed past him to see your father still hollering for you. You were done. Finally, and now that you were 18, you could join the military. Your father wasn't really on board, but with some great persuasion, he came through. You were going in as a medic. In some way, that promised you safety. You were coming close to your family and out of the crowd itself. Your mother caught her eyes on you and you were just about to exit the crowd of bodies when someone grabbed your wrist, yanking you to the side. You squealed out in fear but looked up to see George. “I never got your name” he whispered out and you just looked at him wide-eyed. He was here. Not for you, but he was here. “My names-”

“Y/n!” you heard your father call out as he broke into the crowd and stood beside you. Grabbing your wrist lightly he nodded at George, “If you’ll excuse us, young man....” your father started out before pulling you away and whispering to you to be careful when talking to strangers. You threw George an apologetic smile as you were pulled out of the crowd to where he couldn't see you. Your name tumbled in his head, over and over again before they traveled to his lips. With a big smile on his face, he looked up at the blue sky. 

“Y/n”

June 20th, 1943; Toccoa, Georgia: 19 Years Old

All of Easy was rejoicing. You all were about to leave Toccoa and head to North Carolina. You were paratroopers now. Everyone was having fun and drinking, but you being only 19 got in the way. Many men tried to slip you a drink, but what kind of message would that send them. You heard someone slam a hand down next to your elbow that was resting on the bar. You jumped and whirled towards the intruder. You smiled brightly at him as you looked over his drunken state. “You’re a little drunk there, aren't you George” you teased as you turned in the bar stool and leaned against the bar playfully. You two had grown closer, and he never questioned why you seemed so familiar. 

“I must look like a girl you knew” you would say, but you knew.

But a little lie never hurt anyone. Besides, he barely knew you or talked to you other than those 3 times that you ran into him. That first time, he didn't even talk to you, he was too busy beating the shit out of James and Mason. The second time was when you were trying to watch your favorite movie, and while you were swooning over the fact that George Luz was a foot away from you, you never talked to him. Even after the movie, you escaped him out of fear of embarrassing yourself. The third and final time was at Graduation, a whole year and a half after your first 2 encounters. He didn't remember you. He didn't even know your name. To you, he was your everything. To him.

You were nothing.

You fought back the thoughts and instead decided to just live in the moment of starting over. Maybe you could make him like you. 

Maybe you could try again.

“And you aren't drinking” he slurred back as he leaned on the bar as well. Your faces were inches away, but you hid the euphoria that flooded your senses at his scent. “I wouldn't be setting a good example to the youngins” you joked and he just rolled his eyes before getting closer. His nose was practically touching yours and he looked absolutely, intoxicating. And not just because he was intoxicated. You had to fight every urge in your body not to push forward and kiss his damn lips. Luckily, he talked right as you were about to give in. “I wouldn't be setting a good example to the youngins” he mocked in your voice and you leaned back before shoving his shoulder. “Fuck off Luz” you growled playfully before turning around on your barstool to see Heffron eyeing you. You had to admit it, Easy had some good looking men. And Babe, well. 

He was definitely one of them. Your brain reeled over all the types of trouble you two could get into. You weren't a good girl anymore. You weren't that quiet girl with her nose in a book that no one talked to. 

No. 

You were bold, needy, and had your nose in a book.

George was watching Babe as he motioned towards the door with his head. “Please tell me you are not going out there with Babe Heffron?” George whispered in your ear and you just turned back to him. His lips were close and you subconsciously pulled away a little in shock. Regaining your composure, you cleared your throat before standing. “A girl has needs. And besides” you whispered before leaning back forward, “We are just gonna make out” you purred before pushing off the bar and heading towards Babe who was smiling wickedly at you. George watched you both leave before he looked down at what was in his hands. He was going to give it to you. But now. 

He couldn't. 

Clearing his throat, he walked over to his bag that was on the ground. Opening it up, he put the book back where it was before he took it out to give to you. He closed the flap so he couldn't see that god awful book cover that he taped together and onto a new version. 

‘Gone With The Wind’

The last words he saw brought memories back of a girl he once loved but could never find again. You had her name, but you swore you weren't her. He couldn't stop the memories of seeing that girl. So engrossed in her books. Always alone. Truth be told, he was head over heels for that girl since the day he saved her from the two boys and he was ecstatic to see her later that week at the movies. But she disappeared before he could ask for her name. Then, when he knew she was graduating, he went to approach her and he would finally ask for her name. But her father stole her away before she could answer him. Her father though gave him her name. He dreamt of that name, even after he enlisted. He knew he would never see her again. 

But here you are. Looking almost identical to her, but your attitude was far from hers. She was sweet, innocent and quiet. You, you were fire and if he got too close. 

He’d burn. 

He turned back and poured another drink. Forgetting of the girl back home, and hopefully, forgetting you would soon follow.

Babe pushed you to the wall of the bar as his lips attacked your neck in hard kisses. He was drunker than George for sure, but he felt good. He made your skin feel like it was on fire the wetter his kisses got. He finally came back up from leaving hickeys on your neck to give your trembling lips some attention. He pressed his lips hard onto yours and you pulled his body in closer if it was even possible. You were trying to enjoy it. But all you saw was George. You imagined it was his lips that were attacking your neck and giving you love bites. You imagined that it was him that made you feel like you were on fire. Like you were loved. “Wait” you whispered out as you pushed him away. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. He was watching you in concern, but you just shook your head and pulled away from his arms. 

This wasn't you.

“I’m sorry Babe... This isn't me” you whispered out before buttoning up your jacket that he frantically unbuttoned to get to your tank top and bra. This could have gone a lot farther. Babe nodded sadly and you just turned to walk back to the bar only to see George exit. He saw your disheveled hair and half unbuttoned jacket and you flushed in embarrassment as you pulled your jacket closed. His eyes flicked from you to Babe before he nodded and walked away. Leaving you breathless. 

Leaving you lost. 

May 25th, 1942; West Warwick, Rhode Island: 18 Years Old

You laid in bed silently taking in every piece of your room. Tomorrow, you would be shipped down to Georgia where you would join the airborne. You were nervous, but you were ready. You closed your eyes, placing yourself mentally in your favorite book, ‘Gone With The Wind’. How you wished to be Scarlett O’Hara. How you wished to be loved by someone like Rhett Butler. Opening your eyes, you looked at the ceiling sadly. No man would want you like Rhett wanted Scarlett. Turning on your side, you made up a plan. You would change. You would get off that bus and you would be a different person. Not some quiet girl who was afraid to speak her mind. No. You would be firey and bold like Scarlett, maybe then.

You’d find your Rhett. 

June 23rd, 1943; Camp Mackall, North Carolina: 19 Years Old

You hadn't seen George since the night where he caught you and Babe making out. You didn't like who you became. You weren't the same girl that you were only a year ago. “Y/n” Winters called out and your head snapped up to him. Humming as you sat up straighter in his presence. “We are about to do a practice mission” he stated and you nodded as you stood up and gathered your bag. He noticed your sudden change in demeanor, and he didn't know how he felt about it. As you passed him, he grabbed your arm, stopping you dead in your tracks. “You alright Private?” he asked kindly and you just nodded at him with a tight-lipped smile before stepping forward a couple feet. But you stopped before turning around with a frown. “Lieutenant” you started and he just nodded for you to continue. “That girl-” you started before letting out a deep breath “That girl from Toccoa, isn't me sir.” you finished off while looking him straight in the eyes. “You can be whoever you want to be, Private” he finished before nodding at the door “Now for training, we are going to be late.”

May 26th, 1943; Providence, Rhode Island: 18 Years Old

You hugged your parent's goodbye. You prayed that it wouldn't be the last time you would get to hold them. You pushed that away as you climbed up the steps of the bus and found a seat. You had only a bag and your book with you, the book your father gave you for your birthday some years ago. You watched as some men climbed onboard as well, but you paid no mind as you pulled out the book. Opening the cover of ‘Gone With The Wind’, you began to read the amazing love story for the 5th time since you got the book. By the time you finished the book, you were in Toccoa. Stepping off the bus, you breathed in the hot Georgian air. New adventure. 

New you.

Tags:

@hell-itwasyou  @desired-love-

[megaphonemonday]

but everyone notices

@hermiginnyharvelle​: I may or may not have been rewatching Deathly Hallows and now I reeeeeally need a "help I can't zip up my dress/oh shit I'm zipping up her dress and I'm in love with her oh noooooo"

like i needed any more reasons to get emotional staring at kylie bunbury red carpet pictures...

read on ao3

Intellectually, Ginny understands why the ESPYs always come the Wednesday following the All-Star Game. It’s pure practicality. No one’s playing any games. Baseball's in its midseason break. The NBA, NFL, and NHL are all in their off seasons. High school and college athletes are on summer vacation. 

Everyone’s schedule is wide open; a true rarity in the world of sports. 

The logic of it all is easy. She’d never argue otherwise.

That doesn’t mean she has to like it.

Because on this particular Wednesday following the All-Star Game, Ginny Baker is exhausted. 

Right now, nothing sounds better than going home to her condo—sparsely furnished as it is, it has her own bed, which is really all she wants. Doing nothing but sleep and have food delivered to her for the next 48 hours sounds too good to be true.

Because, of course, it is.  

It doesn’t matter how much Miami had taken it out of her. 

True, there wasn’t much work for her to do during the All-Star Game itself—she’d considered herself lucky to stay on the mound for a whole inning—but the media circus leading up to it was a grind all its own. (How’s her arm doing? Is she feeling 100% again? What does she think of the trade rumors? How does she like the Padres’ shot at the postseason?) Between Work Out Day and the Home Run Derby and the interminable red carpet before the game even started, Ginny’d been interviewed and filmed and photographed until she was sure she was more soundbite than real person.

Suffice it to say: if she never sees another camera or microphone or tape recorder in her life, she’ll die a happy woman.

But try telling her agent that the media market is fully saturated when it comes to the Ginny Baker Brand™. Going to the ESPYs—even if she is nominated—and walking the red carpet—posing for the flock of vultures and their flashbulbs—isn’t going to change that. Anyway, surely there was such a thing as too much press coverage, right?  

(When Ginny hopefully offered up this argument, Amelia stared at her for a full minute, like the suggestion was so utterly foreign she couldn’t begin to wrap her mind around it. It’d been enough to get Ginny to reluctantly backpedal and agree to go.)

Well, there’s no pulling out now. Not when she’s already all made up, hair done, requisite Instagram post already making the rounds on the internet. It hardly matters that she won’t win. There’s nothing Ginny can do to get out of this now.

Although, she thinks, considering the height of the heels she’s supposed to put on, maybe I can fake a rolled ankle...

Ginny sighs and sluggishly pulls her dress off its hanger even as she tells herself it’s better not to get any of the club’s trainers involved in a lie to the entire sports media industry. Her fingers skim over the dark fabric at the waist, and she regrets that something so undeniably pretty only fills her with annoyance. She can’t count the number of times just today she’s shaken her head at the body-hugging number, but Ginny’d bowed to Amelia and Evelyn’s superior fashion sense before. There's no reason not to do it now. 

At least Evelyn had made most of today pretty fun. Even if it wasn’t being back home in San Diego, pigging out on Postmates-delivered Korean barbecue in bed, Ginny had to admit her friend had a knack for making the most out of a less than ideal situation. They giggled and gossiped and goofed off, fitting in the necessary beauty routines in between pitchers of bloody marys and terrible pay-per-view movies. Almost before she even realized it was happening, Evelyn had transformed her into the Red Carpet Ready Ginny Baker™ it seemed like everyone wanted to see. 

Now that Ginny was alone again, having sent Evelyn off towards her own room, tipsy and belting out “I Wanna Dance With Somebody,” it was a little harder for her to be caught up in the moment. 

All Ginny had now was her exhaustion, general annoyance with the situation, and this ridiculous dress to put on. 

It would be a shame to miss out if Blip and Mike end up taking home the award for Best Play, she tells herself, stepping into the mostly unzipped dress and tugging it up her body. 

Idly, she wonders what they’ll think when they see her in this. Well. What one of them will think.

It’s an intrusive thought, but similar enough to the kind Ginny’s gotten pretty used to dealing with over the past months. Her inconvenient attraction to Mike Lawson hasn’t gone anywhere. Not over the offseason, not during Spring Training, and certainly not over the front half of the regular season. Going to Miami with him, the only Padres reps for the All-Star Game, certainly hadn���t helped. 

The fact that he hadn’t asked any questions, hardly even complained, when she—more than once, too—used him as a human shield with the roving pack of reporters didn’t make Ginny any more aware of what she feels. She’s been uncomfortably aware of that since before she got that text on her first date with Noah. His teasing grin, even as he kept shifting to provide her with better cover, however, was enough to make her seriously consider actually doing something about it, damn the consequences. 

In return, that was more than enough to send Ginny into something of a tailspin. She’d done her best to avoid him while she recalibrated, but it was an essentially impossible effort. She and Mike share pretty much everything, even when it’s not just them stuck in Miami together. Dugout, hotel, rides to the airport; avoidance wasn’t in the cards. Then, of course, their seats on the red eye into LA were right next to each other. Ginny hadn’t let herself fall asleep for fear she’d wake up propped against Mike’s shoulder just as she has on so many other flights. Hell, only a hallway separates their rooms here in LA. 

And now, not even two days after that realization, she’s got to go walk the red carpet with him.

All right. Maybe her reluctance isn’t just media-induced. 

Ginny holds the neckline in place and admires the effect in the full length mirror. It’s a little difficult since a certain amount of her brainpower is currently dedicated to thoughts of dark beards framing pink mouths. Still, she soldiers on. Amelia and Evelyn had definitely known what they were doing, picking out this dress, even if it’s a little racier than Ginny usually wears for public events. The lack of straps is worrying, but the sheer determination of the elastic in the fabric should be protection enough. Once it’s zipped and in place, she’s been assured, it won’t go anywhere.

It better not, at least. The last thing she needs is a very public wardrobe malfunction or someone to start the rumor that Ginny Baker doesn’t believe in bras. It’s not her fault the scant material at her chest won’t allow for one.

Reaching around for the zipper, Ginny resolves to go to the ESPYs and have—if not a good time—at least an okay one. If she can make it through the night without embarrassing herself, she’ll call it a success. Then, she can go back to San Diego and cry with relief when the only journalists she has to talk to are the familiar Padres beat reporters. 

But first, she really needs to get dressed. 

Which, she realizes with a frown as she tugs again at the zipper to no avail, might prove harder than she’d first assumed. 

There aren’t any buttons or snaps or ties to hold the thing closed, after all. Just a long zipper from the hem all the way up the back of the dress. Ginny is fully capable of handling a zipper on her own. 

Or she’d thought she was. 

Struggling to crane around and catch sight of where she’d gone wrong, Ginny huffs in frustration. At least Amelia wasn’t wrong when she’d said the stupid thing wasn’t going anywhere. She can’t get the fabric to stop clinging long enough to shimmy it around to get a better view of the problem. Even if she does manage to get the zipper somewhere she can see it, there’s no reason to believe she could get the damn thing turned back the right way once she fixes it.

Why did she ever agreed to wear this dress? 

Flopping in defeat onto her suite’s couch, Ginny picks up her phone. 

please come help me, she types to Evelyn, willing to take a little teasing if it means arriving to the ESPYs fully clothed, zipper stuck

Since Evelyn had only departed the suite to, “Make sure my husband isn’t going to embarrass me,” Ginny’s sure she’ll be rescued in no time. It’s not as if Blip, who loves clothes and getting dressed up as much as his wife does, is at risk of embarrassing anyone.

Then again, Evelyn had been belting Whitney as she left, and while Ginny would never admit to knowing this, she has it on good authority that Whitney is a foolproof way to get her friend feeling a little frisky...

Shaking off any consideration of Blip and Ev’s sex life, Ginny tells herself that any minute, Evelyn will be at the door. She’ll fix her dress and reassure her that everything is going to be be fine like the perfect fairy godmother/best friend she is. 

And she won’t be at all annoyed because Ginny definitely hadn’t interrupted her debauching her husband.

When the knock comes, Ginny bounds up from her slump, softly sculpted curls bouncing against her bare shoulders. 

“Jesus, Ev. Why would you let Amelia pick this thing? How am I supposed to keep my tits in here?” Ginny’s complaining before she even opens the door. When she does, though, she halts in her tracks, blinking in disbelief and feeling like the floor cannot swallow her whole fast enough. “You’re not Evelyn.”

“Uh, no,” Mike replies after a long moment in which his gaze rakes over her, more than a little dazed. He shakes himself and continues, “But she did brief me. Some sort of fashion emergency?”

Belatedly, Ginny’s hands fly to her chest. Jesus. How close had she come to flashing whoever was in the hall? Never mind that the hallway beyond her team captain is blissfully empty. It’s easier to worry about that than the obvious.

“So she sent you?”

What was Evelyn thinking? Sending Mike over to Ginny to deal with a wardrobe malfunction? She knows—

It dawns on Ginny. She knows.

He rolls his eyes, clearly taking her emphasis for disdain. If only it were that simple. “I’ve been told I clean up pretty well.”

Mike certainly isn’t wrong. He fills out his light gray, summer-weight suit to perfection. The crisp white shirt beneath his jacket stretches ever so slightly across his broad chest, a blue tie concealing whether or not the buttons are under any strain.

A little—large—part of Ginny thrills at his appearance. It isn’t just that the gray of his suit picks up on the lighter strands shot through his beard—is he going gray?—or that the subtle plaid of the fabric is practically begging her fingers to trace over each and every line. 

No, it has far more to do with the fact that they match. They go together, even. Sure, Ginny’s heels—still sitting neglected in their box—are a much darker blue than either Mike’s tie or pocket square, and his suit is closer to monochrome than the ombré effect on her dress, but who cares? They complement each other. They match.

Or, they will once Ginny’s actually dressed.

“So,” he drawls, shifting a little awkwardly as the silence stretches out, “what’s the problem?”

Ginny would gesture if she weren’t worried removing her hands from the top of the dress would treat Mike to an eyeful. 

And if Mike ever does get an eyeful, it certainly won’t be because of a wardrobe malfunction, she thinks. Then, tacks on more honestly, Or when we have to make a public appearance within the hour. 

Without betraying that bit of inner monologue, she keeps both arms clasped over her chest to hold the fabric in place, and steps aside to let him in. Better to discuss this out of the hallway, where anyone could overhear and leap to conclusions. 

“The zipper’s just stuck,” she says, keeping her back to the wall as Mike comes inside and closes the door. Ginny is suddenly and entirely too aware of just how much of her bare back is exposed and how unprepared she is for Mike to see it. She’d managed to get the zipper up over the curve of her ass, but not much further. “No big deal. I can wait for Evelyn.”

“I’m pretty sure I can handle a zipper,” he replies, sounding far too amused for her comfort. 

Ginny doesn’t chew on her lip as she thinks, but only because she doesn’t want to reapply her lipstick when she inevitably scrapes it all off. This is decidedly not how she’d pictured Mike first helping her with her clothes. 

For one thing, she never imagined him helping her put them on. 

Mike lifts a brow and all bets are off. She’s never been able to back down from a challenge. Even when she knows she should.

“Okay,” she agrees, nodding decisively and taking a step toward him. She can’t quite keep the bait out of her tone. “If you say so.”

With that, Ginny closes the distance and turns her back on her captain. She doesn’t think she imagines his sharp inhale or the long pause before his fingers brush across the top of her shoulders, sweeping her hair out of the way. Ginny doesn’t complain even though there’s nothing for it to get in the way of. 

If anything, she wants to beg for more.

So, of course, his hands disappear from her skin. The disappointment that crashes through her is nearly physical, but thankfully brief. Ginny has to brace herself when they reappear at the small of her back, where the two sides of the dress refuse to come together. It’s just a slight pressure, the faint suggestion of warmth through fabric, but it’s enough to tell her where all of Mike’s attention is currently focused. 

Her eyes flutter closed at the slightly too sharp tug down that dislodges the zipper from where it’d gone astray. How far did he unzip? Can he see the top of her underwear? Ginny thinks the ragged exhale she hears is answer enough. 

At least it’s nice underwear, she finds herself thinking, aiming for detached but veering dangerously close to giddy.

She breathes deep, more than a little disappointed, when Mike rights his course and slides the zip up its track. One knuckle drags featherlight along her spine before, the cloth closing together behind. 

Finally, though it really can’t have taken that long, he reaches the end of the line, just below Ginny’s shoulder blades. His knuckles brush against her skin and over the fabric, making sure it lays flat.

His thumb sketches a gentle arc, just where her skin disappears beneath the dress. Ginny can’t help but shiver, toes curling against the soft carpeting. 

Nonetheless, Mike doesn’t pull his hand away. 

Nor does he when Ginny turns, stepping into his bulk rather than away as she should. His hand remains high on her back as she tips her face up to him, lips parted and eyes wide. 

Suddenly, Ginny’s not too worried about reapplying her lipstick.

Mike looks back, a flush riding high on his cheekbones. His gaze roams hungrily over her face, the hand on her back encouraging her closer. 

Ginny feels like she can’t breathe. But unlike her panic attacks, she leans into this dizzy uncertainty. She lays a hand on Mike’s arm, sliding up the smooth arm of his jacket and coming to a stop at his brawny shoulder. 

Just as she’s resolved to rock in and snap the thin thread of her self-control, code and potential lipstick smudges be damned, three sharp raps sound at the door. 

Mike and Ginny don’t move. Aside from the slight widening of their eyes, both remain stock still, breath mingling in the scant space still separating them. Even after another flurry of knocks, they stare at one another, far too aware of the line they’ve nearly crossed. 

Still want to cross, in fact.

Just as Mike’s eyes dip back to Ginny’s mouth and he leans in, though, the knocking graduates to yelling through the locked door.

“G?” Blip calls, sounding only slightly harried. “Ev wants you to know the car’s downstairs, and if you’re not in the lobby in five minutes, she’s leaving without you.”

It’s enough to pop the bubble.

Ginny clears her throat, and locking eyes with Mike—her friend, her teammate, her something—she takes a step back. 

They can’t be doing this. Not now. 

Not for a long while, yet. 

Disappointment flashes through his eyes, but he still nods and takes his own step back, too.

“Got it, Blip,” she calls back. “Meet you down there.”

He must agree because Mike and Ginny are left in her too quiet suite with nothing to distract them from what they’d nearly done.

Well, Ginny can’t have that. Not if she’s going to spend the evening being filmed and photographed in this man’s company, her every move picked apart and dissected by morning. It’s bad enough that she’s got her own intrusive thoughts, but to know that Mike’s got them, too, that there’s some serious overlap between his and hers, it’s too much.

So, Ginny does the only thing she can; she pretends nothing’s happened. 

She whirls through the suite, collecting her clutch and phone and emergency snacks, checking over her appearance one last time as she fastens the buckles of her shoes, puts on the loaner jewelry Amelia’d scored, and generally pretends Mike isn’t even there. Which is difficult when he insists on staring after her in amused befuddlement. If Ginny spends any time appreciating the adorable little frown furrowing his brow, Evelyn and Blip really will leave without them before she gets her mind back on track.

When she feels prepared to do more than steal glances at him in the mirror—as prepared as three minutes will buy her, at least—Ginny turns back to Mike and pastes a bright smile on her face. 

“Ready to go?”

His eyes sweep over her form, but it isn’t the reckless perusal it’d been when she first opened the door. No, this is slightly more concerned, a cautious once over to make sure she really is all right, and not just faking it. It’s the same look he sometimes gives her on the field, when he thinks she’s lying about having more in the tank. Ginny allows her grin to turn a little more sheepish, uncertain. Mike softens. 

“Yeah, Baker,” he replies. “Let’s get outta here.”

They manage to put up a fairly normal front for their fellow passengers, not that Blip and Evelyn make it hard. They squabble good-naturedly about who deserves to win which awards, seeming to draw both Ginny and Mike into the conversation effortlessly. 

Maybe it even is effortless. Maybe it’s just unthinking and automatic, their desire to engage with their friends on their way to what should be an exciting night.

Ginny, however, has her doubts. 

She knows Ev’s calculating face—has been treated to it more times than she can count over the years—and her expression the whole ride is awfully familiar. Evelyn definitely clocks Mike’s lingering frown, and the way she’s eyeing the careful space Ginny’s left on the bench between her captain’s thigh and hers isn’t comforting. If Blip notices anything, he’s got a better poker face than his wife. 

When Ev ushers her husband out of the car first claiming she wants, “A few goddamn shots of just us before Lawson the camera hog makes an appearance,” and Blip doesn’t complain, though, Ginny knows Sherlock Sanders has struck again.

She tries to appreciate the sight of her friend cowing the photo pool into turning their attention away from Michael Phelps and onto some Blip Sanders, but it’s hard when she’s entirely too aware of the man sitting next to her. He’d slid an inch closer to her when the limo stopped, so now she’s viscerally aware—just like she’s aware of the exact feel of his jacket beneath her fingertips and the way his cologne still lingers in her nose—of his warmth radiating into her. 

So why are her arms covered in goosebumps?

“Hey,” he murmurs, nudging her softly with his elbow. Ginny frowns, but doesn’t say anything. He nudges her again, and she shifts, cocking her head to show she’s listening, even if her eyes are still focused out the window. She doesn’t think she can look him in the face and not kiss him, now. Not with his warm arm pressed against her and his dark eyes looking at her with such genuine concern. 

Damn it. Even the reflection is too much. 

Mike sighs, not quite loud enough to cover the faint rasp of his hands smoothing over the legs of his pants. “Talk to me, Baker.”

If it’d come out any less pleading, Ginny wouldn’t turn around. She would keep her attention on the mayhem outside, and pretend she’s just trying to center herself before wading in. It isn’t even completely untrue. 

As it is, she turns to face him and can’t help but remember that the angle had been a little different back at the hotel. They’d faced each other head on there, and her eye line had been a little lower, level with the ticking tendon in his neck rather than the hints of gray framing his mouth. 

But this is still too similar. 

“What’s there to say, Lawson?”

“Don’t play the avoidance game. Not now.”

“Avoidance game?” she hedges, fingers worrying the hem of her dress. For all its cling, it sure can ride up her thigh. 

Mike just shakes his head. “I know when you’re avoiding me, even when you’re right here. You’ve been doing it since Miami.”

She doesn’t protest. “Yeah,” Ginny agrees. Would it really help to tell him that she’d thought about kissing him, or more, in Miami? Will that make it easier on either of them? It seems unlikely. Nonetheless, she can’t stuff the words back into her mouth once she says, “Maybe today wasn’t the first time I thought—”

His eyes go wide even as his lips part in a disbelieving, reckless grin. His hand lands on top of her own, almost on the bare skin of her thigh, but that’s nothing compared to the way Mike’s looking at her right now.

Ginny swallows and forces herself to go on, “I thought about it. This. Even when I know we can’t.”

His smile doesn’t dim, but that seems to knock the air out of his sails. For a moment, Mike just studies her. Ginny can’t help but stare back, cataloguing every arch and curve of this face she already knows like her own. His hazel eyes caress her face, more tender than any touch. Finally, satisfied with whatever he’s seen, he blows out a long, unsteady breath. Ginny can certainly sympathize. 

His head tilts a little to the side and his eyes go soft as he asks, “We’re good?”

“We’re good,” she promises, gaze dropping to her lap. To his big, callused hand covering hers. 

This thing with Mike is hard and sometimes it’s scary as hell, but Ginny never doubts that their friendship, their connection on the field, comes first. It’ll take more than a few charged moments to throw them off their game.

Then again...

When Ginny finally looks back up at him, it takes a moment for his concern to dissolve away, but Mike is nothing if not excellent at hiding his misgivings. Sure enough, he smirks, a mischievous sparkle lighting up his eyes. He gives her fingers one last squeeze before letting them go. 

“Good,” he drawls, making Ginny roll her eyes. If anything, his smirk just grows, which does nothing to dissuade Ginny from the dismaying opinion that smug looks really good on him. “I know we’re not talking about, well, any of this, but I’ve got something for you to keep in mind.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, she arches a brow and demands, “And what’s that?”

He leans in and brushes a rasping kiss against Ginny’s cheek. She freezes, too aware that all she needs to do is turn her face a few inches and she could be kissing Mike Lawson. Stubbornly, she remains stock still.

Ginny can feel, more than hear, his responding chuckle. “Any time you need some help with your zipper?” he murmurs, right into her ear and making goosebumps erupt across her skin. “I’m your guy.”

With that, he opens the car door and climbs out onto the red carpet, leaving behind one stunned teammate.

Alone in the back of the car, Ginny can’t help dissolve into laughter, maybe a little hysterical. Could anyone blame her, though? 

Once she manages to reel her mind in from the tangent Mike has inspired, she sucks in a deep breath. She doesn’t bother convincing her lips to drop their grin, though. Much as she loves to imply otherwise, Mike’s outrageous self-confidence is irresistible. It's one of the things she—

Well. If she can’t even kiss the man, yet, she probably shouldn’t be thinking that.

Anyway, if he thought he’d gotten the last word in, he has another thing coming. 

Stepping out onto the red carpet, making sure to shake her hair and smile dazzlingly only once she’s positive she has Mike’s attention, Ginny is very sure of that.

[5hfanfiction]

Flowers on my doorstep: Chapter 4

A/N: This ones for @DeniseBlair2. Thanks for lighting a fire up my ass, So to speak and getting me to update. I hope y'all like this one, it’s not my best, but enjoy, I’ll get better. Promise.

“Okay.” I agreed, feeling a weight lifted off my shoulder and a new hope set in. Maybe things in Miami would be better than even I thought. “Thank you Camila.”

“For what?” She asked simplistically.

“For not..um…” Damn I lost the word again. What was it? “Re..re..Fuck.” I muttered frustratedly, looking away from Camila feeling embarrassed. “I can’t remember the word.” I told her, opting for honestly seeing as that what we were doing…Honesty hour and all that jazz…

“Is that part of having a brain injury? Forgetting words?” She asked sympathetically.

“Um…yeah. Sorry.” I apologised feeling like a idiot.

“Hey, don’t apologies. It’s not your fault.” She insisted kindly, but it kind of was my fault. If I hadn’t been such a selfish idiot that day I probably would never have ended up half brain dead. But I didn’t want Camila to feel bad about not being able to make me feel better so I just smiled appreciatively and continued (not)watching the movie onscreen for the rest of the night until I had to go back to my room for the night because I had class tomorrow and I wouldn’t be able to go if I didn’t get enough sleep. So, I said my goodbyes and thank you’s before shuffling back to my room.

-

Today I woke up feeling incredibly fatigued and I noticed my movements and coordination was not the best which frustrated me to no end, but nevertheless I got up and dressed to head out to my first class: music. I had always wanted to study music before everything that happened I was even given scholarships from prestigious colleges, because I was very good. I’d like to think I was still good at music and somewhere deep down inside of me was that talent I had before, but the reality always hits and soon I realised I couldn’t play the piano as well as I did before, nor could I even pronounce the words properly; let alone sing them, but I definitely wanted to try. I was here to learn. That’s what my mom always told me. We go to school to learn, not to acknowledge genius.

So before I knew it I was sat in the music room jigging my leg nervously waiting for the lesson to begin as I watched more and more people filter in, but no one stopped to talk to me, which made me sad because I tried to smile at them and appear friendly but it didn’t work. Until a familiar face walked in and I jumped up waving and smiling to get her attention. “C-Camila.” I called her over hopefully.

“Hey there.” She smiled and sat down next to me. “I didn’t know you was in this class.”

“Yes! Started late.” I explained to her.

“Oh yeah. Sorry, I’m an idiot sometimes.” She laughed, but I didn’t think it was funny. People shouldn’t laugh at themselves.

“No. You’re n-not an idiot.” I reaffirmed.

“I can be.” She dismissed, “Anyway, how are you finding Miami?”

“It is good. Different, but good.” I told her.

“Must be a nice change from the New York weather. I went there once with my family and it was freezing, like I think I almost died. Plus, you New Yorkers are scary people.”

“Only some. I’m nice!” I insisted, because I didn’t want her to not be my friend because she thought I was mean. I tried not to be. I hated hurting people, I would never do it.

“I dunno, you’re a bit intimidating. I think it’s the whole New Yorker vibe you’re giving off.” She said nudging my side playfully and tried my hardest not to shift away in a panic. I didn’t want her to think I was weird, especially now that she knows.

“But I’m from Miami.” I informed her and proving my point of not being scary because technically I’m not a New Yorker.

“Oh, well…it must just be because you’re hot.” She smirked and my face heated up an uncomfortably fast rate.

I was hot? No one had ever called me hot before…Lucy had always called me fat and ugly, but she said that’s how other people saw me, not her, because she loved me and would be the only one to ever love me, but Normani - my friend- said that people who truly love you would never hurt you, so I’m not sure. But I do know one thing. I like being called hot.

“Um- thank you Camila, no ones ever told me that before.” I blushed, looking down at my hands in my lap.

“You’re welcome Lauren.” she laughed. ‘And that’s insane by the way, because you’re like so gorgeous, that if I saw you walking down the street I’d probably run the other way.“ Camila added.

The way she spoke was like she was in Lala land and had no awareness of other people or even a filter between her brain and her mouth. It was refreshing to be around someone so raw. Everyone else I knew from home would always second guess themselves not wanting to say the wrong thing and inevitably not saying anything at all. in the first few months after I woke up, no one ever really said anything to me. They’d just sit there and try not to cry I think. The only person whoever spoke to me properly like they did before was my best friend Normani. She would always talk to me, even when I couldn’t say anything back, even when she was still angry at me for going back to her time and time again.

"You’re funny Camila.” I laughed happily for the first time in a long time.

“Why thank you Lauren. I have a feeling we are going to get along quite well.” she said in a fancy voice that made me throw my head back and laugh again just as the professor walked in and called order to the room so I had to quickly stifle my laughter but it erupt again and have to muffle it with my hand when ever Camila gave me a look, deliberately trying to get me to laugh out even harder. it was nice to be able to laugh about something for once in my life.

“Alright guys as part of your grade you will be performing at the Miami amphitheatre to a crowd of no less than 200 people, so please collect your assigned music scores from me and we shall begin rehearsals now.” The kind dark skinned teacher spoke reassuringly. “Oh and before I forget…which I quite Cleary did…we have a new student.” she said causing the class to laugh at her joke as she rolled her eyes at herself then pointed me out. “This is Lauren Jauregui and I hope you all give her a nice warm welcome and are just as supportive with her as you are with each other. Now my children, lets make some music!” She clapped her hands excitedly and everyone got up to collect their scores.

“Lauren, can you come over here for a moment please?” The young tattooed teacher called me over.

“Y-yes Miss?” I asked once I had made my way over to her desk anxiously, cursing my self for the stupid stutter I had today.

“Don’t look so worried. This is a fun class.” she smiled shifting through some files and pulling out a few pieces of paper. “So I have been informed of your injuries and as the teachers responsible for your wellbeing we have to offer support towards you, which I am more than willing to give you. So here are some forms I am going to need you to fill out to sign up for music therapy.” she said handing me the forms.

“M-Music Th-Th-therapy?” I question her and kicked myself at the stupid speech impediment I hated so much.

“Yep, its either that our a session with Steve our guidance counsellor- who is no the greatest and spends most of his time ranting about his problems and trying to get you to fix them. But you didn’t here that from me” She winked.

“Al-alright.” I nodded in agreement.

“Good, I look forward to it Lauren. but for now here are your scores. You’re on piano and vocals.” she said handing me a large wad of paper covered with music notations.

“Really?” I asked both excitedly and apprehensively. “What if I mess it up? Don’t you want someone..more c-capable than m-me?’

"I’ve seen what you can do Lauren. You have raw talent and I want you front and centre for this showcase and no, I don’t doubt your capabilities.”

“But..I’m not the same as before.”

“We’ll get there. Now go learn those new pieces. Don’t think I’ll be letting you off easy.” She said sternly, pointing a finger as I walked away.

“Yes Miss.” I agreed happy at that new piece of information, that people wouldn’t be treating me differently. I went and sat back down next to my new friend Camila who now had the same wad of papers in her hand. “Hi.” I breathed out slowly trying to control my stutter, because it was really prominent today. That’s why I usually spoke in shorter sentences, it was easier to control. The less words the better in my opinion.

“Hi, did you get your part?” She asked briefly glancing up from the papers that she was studying intensely.

“Y-yeah. I’m on v-vocals. P-piano. Y-you?” I asked, though I felt rude for not being able to ask in full sentences.

“That’s awesome, I’m on vocals too. Are you okay? You’re not nervous are you?” She asked sincerely and it hurt my feelings to know that I seemed abnormal. Because I didn’t want to seem weird, especially when I tried so hard. It took me two years for me to be able to speak coherently. I never lost my speech entirely, but when I woke up I couldn’t control my muscles enough to articulate the words I wanted to say, not to mention the feelings of disorientation I had from waking up in hospital and all the distressing memories that came flooding back from what happened.

“N-no. Not n-nervous.” I stuttered giving up trying to hide it and opting to just point to my brain considering she already knew. “B-Brain.” I explained.

“Oh! I’m so sorry.” Camila pleaded. “I didn’t mean to- I didn’t know that it caused you to speak funny. Not that you speak funny! I just meant I didn’t know you had a speech impediment. You spoke fine yesterday.” She rambled on clearly freaked out and doing that thing everyone did when they tip toed around me trying not to cause any offence.

“I-its okay. It comes and it g-goes. ’M not used to long d-days.” I tried to explain the best I could.

“I understand. It’s the same with me. Not with a brain injury obviously but with my OCD.” She spoke but I quickly rushed forward and put a finger to her mouth to silence her because I didn’t want anyone to know, not yet. I didn’t want to be know as the weird girl with brain damage before they even got to know me.

“Oh sorry. Don’t you want people to know?” Camila asked in a hushed tone, once I moved my hand away but only after I was sure she would stay quiet.

“N-not yet please?” I begged.

“Okay that’s fine. I didn’t know sorry.” She apologised again. “I’ll make sure to be more careful.”

“Thank you.” I breathed relief. Camila really was very nice and way too pretty and cool to ever want to be my friend. So I don’t know why she’s actually paying attention to me. “I’m n-not t-tak-king y-y-you away  from y-your f-f-f-friends, am I?” I asked inwardly cursing myself for being so stupid and inept that I could even finish my sentence.

“Not really. I’m actually grateful you’re here.” She said much to my disbelief. “You see that guy over there? With the pinkish looking hair. He’s the one responsible for my tears that night.” She explained as I stared across the room at the pink-haired boy.

“He looks l-like he hasn’t showered in-na week.” I commented on his dirty appearance, but then feeling bad for putting him down, because that wasn’t a very nice thing to do to people and I didn’t want to be that type or person. Not ever. “B-But h-he has nice hair.” I told her, looking at the soft pink colour of his hair. I liked the colour pink, it didn’t hurt as much as the other colours did to look at. “I-It’s pink like my glasses.”

“You wear glasses?!” She asked shocked.

“Yes-s, why?” I asked confuse as to her shock. Didn’t most people wear glasses.

“No reason.” She shook her head looking away, but I didn’t believe her because she was acting weirder than before.

“T-tell m-me. P-please.” I asked feeling insecure now. Did she not want me to wear glasses?! “I’m sorry. I..um..w-won’t w-wear them-m if it’s t-too embarra”- I tripped on the big word-“ embarrassing for you.”

“Huh? What? no! It’s not that. Trust me, it’s not that. Who would even care enough to think that?” She laughed awkwardly trying to backtrack me. “You just don’t seem the…type? To wear glasses.”

“D-didn’t. Brian.” I tapped my head, reminding her.

“Yeah, well you’re still too hot to look like the type to wear glasses.” She mumbled and my eyes went wide because she said it again. I was going to call her out on it, but I didn’t want to because generally questioning someone didn’t end well for me.

“P-piano?” I asked, changing subject looking around the room for a piano but there was none. Just a few hand held instruments, like guitars, violins and bongos. As well as a few mic stands dotted around the room.

“Oh yeah. It’s through that door.” Camila pointed to a door to the left of us and slightly in front of the Miss Parrish’s desk.

“I can go?” I asked hesitantly not wanting to go in case I wasn’t allowed, even though other students had instruments in their hands.

“Yeah, just walk straight through that door. It’s a huge grand piano. You can’t miss it.” She smiled before looking back down to her paper, which she was currently scratching notes all over. So I quietly got up and made my way over to the door passing the desk where Miss Parrish gave me a reassuring thumbs up.

Wow. The piano was beautiful and I could see my reflection, as I approached it, from the top of the shiny surface that glistened against the white of the keys. Just by looking at it I felt my pulse quicken in both excitement and nerves. I hadn’t tried playing the piano in ages, what if I wouldn’t be able to play it the same?

Timidly, I sat down on the stool and slowly lifted my hands to place upon the keys not yet daring to press the down. I racked by brain for a song, one I wouldn’t forget and found the piece of knowledge I needed as I moved my hands up the piano to play in a higher octave and pressed down on the fist set of keys allowing the beautiful sound of the piano to ring out in the room before moving to the next notes. Slowly but surely I managed to play the first bar, but the song got harder from there and I found myself stumbling over the notes and not being able to press them down in synchronisation. Let alone move up and down the piano. The more I tried the more I failed and eventually the angel outweighed my determination.

I felt so incredibly frustrated at myself that I couldn’t even control my anger and got up and kicked over the music stand that stood at the front of the room, feeling the rush of anger exude from my body. Before sinking down to the floor, feeling the cold of the wall up against my back as tears trickled from my eyes. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to be like this. I wanted to be hopeful like they said, but how could I when I was hopeless. The only thing in the world I was actually good at, the only thing that gave me any peace had been taken away from me by the very same person who had taken away everything else. She had reduced me to nothing and I hated her for it. I hated her. I hated her. I HATED HER!

I wanted to scream but even then I knew I wouldn’t be able to because my words would fall out into a jumbled up pile of mess onto the floor.

So I just sat there, on the floor, in the silence - that signalled nothing more than my failure - until the bell rang signalling the end of the period and I heard people filling out of the classroom and when it was silent I did too; picking up the music stand before making my way out the door.

“Lauren? Everything okay?” Miss Parrish asked, but I didn’t feel like talking. I didn’t feel like acknowledging my failure as a human being. So, I ignored her, grabbed my bag and left quickly without even glancing at the nice professor and bumping directly into Camila outside of the room.

“Whoa, are you okay? What happened?” She asked concertedly. But I didn’t want to talk to her either. Not now, not when I couldn’t speak two words without stuttering. Not when I knew I wouldn’t be able to control my temper. Damn, was there anything I could control? I laughed bitterly to myself and shook my head at Camila.

“No, you’re not okay? Or no, you don’t want to talk?” She asked following my gaze as I adverted all the way to the floor and shrugged my shoulders, because despite my feelings, I didn’t want to push her away when we were just becoming friends. “Well if you’ve got a free period now, how about we go get some coffee?” She asked, but I was hesitant. “Come on. It’s the best coffee shop in town.” She tempted, wiggling her eyebrows comedically, trying to get me to laugh or something. So I just nodded.

“Cool, follow me.” She sang pointing out a finger and diving into the direction of the courtyard like supergirl.

-

“Tastes good, right?”

“Mhmm.” I hummed sipping my drink, I had opted for a hot chocolate instead. Not wanting to risk adding caffeine into my diet and messing with my neurones. But damn did I miss drinking coffee.

“You wanna talk?” She offered gently as we sat on a small circular table in the middle of the thankfully quiet cafe.

“I- um. C-c-c-c-can’t.” I stuttered profusely and looked away embarrassed and angry at myself. She was really going to think I was weird now. Good Job Lauren.

“Sure you can. You’re doing just fine.” Camila encouraged nonchalantly, much to my surprise.

“R-r-really?” I asked flabbergasted, because that was not how I’d describe the nonsense gibberish coming out of my mouth.

“Yep. I can understand you. So I don’t see a problem and even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t mind because I could just sit here and stare at you face as you spoke.” She said, but I didn’t understand why, because it’s not like my voice sounded interesting when I was stuttering all over the place.

“O-Okay.” I started, preparing my next sentence. “-

"So do you wanna tell me?” Camila laughed. Doing that thing people always did where they didn’t give me chance to get my words out. Sometimes they got lost between my mouth and my brain. But I didn’t call her out on it, because that wouldn’t be nice for her and I’d probably seem rude to someone who was just trying to help.

“I…..c-c-can’t…p-play. I t-t-tried b-but…” damnit this was getting increasingly tricky as I tried to rush through my sentences, so I held up my hands to signal my fingers as she waited patiently for me to get my words out. “They…w-won’t…..w-w-work.” I explained as best I could hoping I made sense.

“Well that fucking sucks, because I really needed a piano backing for my A-mazing vocals.” She joked successfully making me laugh and throw my head back in a giggle that racked my body so much that I couldn’t control the happiness that began to radiate all through my body and slowly drive out the anger and frustration.

“You’re funny.” I spoke smiling at her as she watched me drinking her all black coffee.

“And you just spoke a full sentence without stuttering.” She pointed out, placing her coffee cup down on the coaster decorated with old vintage buildings.

“I-I did?!” I exclaimed, wide-eyed and jaw-dropped.

“Did.” She enunciated the word signifying its past tense jokingly so I knew she wasn’t putting me down. I liked this girl, despite her casual smugness. “But I was serious. I do need a pianist for my piece, so, we are going to have to get you back up to scratch again.” She looked at me seriously with a promise in her eye.

“We?” I questioned.

“We.” She confirmed, holding up her pinky for a promise and I grabbed hold of it with mine and she kissed the end by her thumb, confusing me.

“You’ve gotta seal it with a kiss.” She said locking eyes with me. They were a lovely shade of brown that disappeared from my sight as I bent my head down and sealed in the promise with my lips just like she had.

I was going to play the piano again.

My Wattpad is MidnightCrossings, in case any of y'all want faster updates cause I tend to forget to submit them on here. 😁

[lowat-golden-tower]

And Eye Must Scream

AO3 Mirror

@caustic-synishade

Jack woke to the horrid odor of too much bleach and antiseptic, with a steady beeping ringing in his ears. He could hear the sound of old pipes creaking above his head and the intermittent drip of water from somewhere else in the room. Shifting slightly where he sat, he emitted a soft groan. His mouth felt dry as cotton and his head a bit stuffed with the fluff as well; making thinking straight a little difficult. “Augh… fook… what the fook….”

Swaying slightly from left to right, Jack grunted when he found himself unable to move his arms. Or his legs, for that matter. Something rough- rope?- was binding his limbs. His legs were strapped along those of the chair, and his wrists were crossed tightly at his back. A rope around his middle stopped him from twisting his hands around to either side and when he tried to lean forward, more rope wrapped about his chest and the chair’s back kept him in place. He was rendered very much immobile and that was when panic began to bubble inside of him.

Terror licking at the edges of his consciousness, Jack forced his eyes open. Thankfully, the room was dim, so he wasn’t immediately blinded. His eyes required little time to adjust but his vision remained fuzzy a few moments after his prolonged knock out. His head was one of the few parts of his body he could still move, so he blinked rapidly and swiveled it around in some effort to find out just where he was.

Deep greens colored the small room. The walls were tiled, but the floor was sheer cement with a drain centered almost perfectly between Jack’s feet. The ceiling above was chipping paint and only played host to a single, uncovered light bulb. It’s flickering glow cast large, unsettling shadows throughout the room and Jack could feel goosebumps rising on his skin as he took in the furnishings.

Beside his chair, which was in the center of the room, sat a wheeled table. Several medical instruments, beakers and unlabeled jars were scattered across its surface; which was stained with faded blood. On Jack’s other side stood an IV stand and as he followed the trailing tube with his eyes, he belatedly registered the light ache on the back of his hand. Wiggling his fingers, Jack confirmed the IV drip was attached and felt his heart rate skyrocket. There was an acidic green substance in the IV bag that didn’t in any way look remotely healthy. Breaths quickening, he twisted his wrists and stretched his fingers until he managed to dislodge the tube from where the needle had been embedded into his skin. He didn’t dare to rip that part out just yet; bleeding out would get him nowhere.

Swallowing thickly, Jack continued scoping out the room. “What the fook….” He had to twist in his chair and crane his neck to see it, but there was definitely a heart rate monitor behind him. He could see the wires trailing over to where he sat, and when he wiggled against his bonds he felt the light pull of the adhesive pads on his skin beneath his shirt. The steady beeping that had been infiltrating his thoughts since waking up was the measure of his own racing heartbeat.

“O-okay. Okay, Jackaboy, easy does it now. There’s gotta be a door here somewhere. Maybe it’s just a prank! Y’know, like the Scare Pewdiepie thing. Arsehole’s probably gettin’ back ye for bein’ such a badass villain on his show. That’s it, that’s it. Okay. Door. Door, door, door…” Jack looked around again and finally spied the thing; a tall sheet of intimidating metal set into one of the walls. He had to squint just to make it out in the dimness and wasn’t entirely sure if it had a handle or not. Great.

Jack sighed heavily and attempted to jerk his chair forwards; possibly towards the door and near freedom. Yet the chair didn’t budge an inch and it was then he realized it had been bolted down to the floor. “Well. Fook me in the arse, then.” Whoever had put him there, they did not want him to move before they got back.

“Welp. When in doubt, shout it out! Like fook if I’m just gonna sit here and wait fer someone to show up.” Licking at his lips and assured this was still just some kind of elaborate joke, Jack drew a deep breath. “HEY!! HEEEEEY!!! HELLOOOO?!?! ANYBODY OUT THERE?! I’M AWAKE! YE CAN COME AN’ ‘TORTURE’ ME NOW OR WHATEVER!! C’MON, AREN’T YE ARSEHOLES SUPPOSED TO ALREADY BE IN THE ROOM WHEN I WAKE UP, ALL MENACIN’ AN’ SHITE?! LAAAAAME! FELIX, IF THIS IS YOUR DOIN’ I’M GONNA KNOCK YER TEETH INTA NEXT WEEK!! I MEAN, YE STABBED ME WITH A NEEDLE! YER LUCKY I AIN’T SCARED OF NEEDLES!!”

Jack paused to catch his breath and wet his lips again. Lord, he could do with some water. He had no idea how long he was out, or how he’d even gotten to this weird location, so someone had serious explaining to do. For now, he was prepared to scream and shout until something happened. Not like he could do much else.

As soon as he opened his mouth to start screaming again, the heavy metal door abruptly opened. Jack was startled into a slight choke, and then silence as he blinked at the figure stepping calmly into the room. He wasn’t that tall, but he easily towered over Jack in his current sitting position. He bore the white coat of a physician, but it was coupled with jeans. At the moment, his face was hidden almost entirely behind a clipboard as he jotted something down on it; only a surgical cap and the barest tuft of green visible over its top edge. Behind him, the door slid shut with a decisive thud.

“Ah, Mister McLoughlin, zo you are awake. It iz good to hear your pipes are in working order. My, you certainly are a loud little zing aren’t you?” The man had an outrageously bad German accent tinged with something else, and Jack might have laughed were it not for the fact it sounded so familiar. Scarily familiar. Jack recalled personally throwing his own voice into that accent on several occasions.

“What th… Dr. Schneeplestein??” he exclaimed, gawking.

The pen’s scribbling came to a halt, followed up by a soft click. “Zo. It vould seem zat my reputation precedes me.” The doctor drawled while he lowered the clipboard down to waist level. Jack was shocked when he was met with his own blue eyes; the corners crinkled by a grin hidden beneath a large surgical mask. Brilliant green hair, the same shade as his own, poured forth out of the surgical cap atop the doctor’s head. The lookalike was so spot-on Jack had to do a double take. “You look surprised, Sean. Not who you were expecting?” His tone rose in pitch, tinkling with barely subdued laughter; identical to the actual Dr. Schneeplestein Jack liked to portray in his videos.

“Holy shite. Where the heck did they find you, eh? I mean, I hope they didn’t make ye dye yer hair er anythin’. That’d suck. But damn, some of me own brothers don’t look that much like me! This is incredible!” It reminded Jack of the doppelganger myth. Granted, legend went that a person would die if they ever met their doppelganger, so he really hoped it was just an extreme coincidence. Maybe the lower half of the guy’s face looked nothing like Jack.

Dr. Schneeplestein hummed, clearly not enthused with Jack’s ramblings as he turned his attentions back to the clipboard in his hands. “Quite. Now. Let’s zee here…. Sean McLoughlin. It vould zeem you’re having a bit of trouble viz your eye. No problem! I can fix zat right up for you, my dear patient. After all, I am a real doctor.” He reached out to condescendingly pat at Jack’s cheek.

Jack’s nose scrunched up at the gesture and he pulled away from the gloved hand; glowering at the doctor with confusion. “An eye problem? I don’t have any problems! I mean, unless ye count the fact I need glasses, but that’s hardly somethin’ I was lookin’ ta fix. An’ why am I tied down to this chair?? This can’t be up to code, when it comes to the proper treatment of patients! Shouldn’t I be in a hospital bed or somethin’?” Jack was, admittedly, a little unsettled by the suddenness of it all. He would have at least liked a heads up that he was going to be the victim in some gag video, if not some script to go off of. Hopefully his improv would be good enough.

Dr. Schneeplestein clicked his tongue as he walked calmly around to stand at Jack’s back. “Now, now. Who iz ze doctor here? Do you have a bona fide medical degree? I do not zink zo, no. As your doctor, I am ze one who knows vhat iz best for you. And I say chair iz being just fine vor operation… vhat iz zis? Why iz your IV out, you naughty boy?” He tsk’d and bent to grab up the fallen tube. “You need your fluids if zis iz to be a zuccessful zurgery!”

“Fluids my arse! The fook is that green stuff?? It looks like gelatin! Or radioactive goo! I don’t want that in me!!” Jack snapped back, though he could feel Dr. Schneeplestein popping the tube back into place. He immediately attempted to rip it out again, partially out of pettiness, but a sharp pinch near the entry point of the needle made him gasp and jolt in his chair.

“Ah ah ah, naughty naughty, Jackyboy. No touching ze equipment or your IV! Doctor’s orders. Do it again, and I vill be forced to take ze drastic measures.” Patting at the little IV needle, Dr. Schneeplestein moved to the table beside Jack and set down his clipboard. “Now, let me zee…”

Even if the substance in the IV bag looked like a normal solution used in hospitals, Jack still would have wiggled his fingers and popped the IV tube out again. Just to mess with the asshole muttering to himself in heavily accented gibberish over the table. The soft clatter of plastic hitting cement was loud in the otherwise quiet room and Dr. Schneeplestein paused; turning to look at the source. He shifted his gaze to Jack, brows furrowing in obvious consternation, and Jack childishly stuck out his tongue. “Bite me.”

The doctor gave a long suffering sigh and rubbed briefly at his temples. “Oh, no, zere vill be no biting here, Mister McLoughlin.” He moved to pick up the tube once again, popping it back into place. “However, zere vill be pain.” Without any warning, Dr. Schneeplestein grabbed the index finger on Jack’s unaffected hand and bent it sharply backwards. He didn’t stop when it became painful; he pushed straight through until knuckle was popping out and the bone cracked under the pressure.

Jack screamed. He screamed louder than he ever had, back arching up away from the chair much as the ropes would allow as tears welled up in his eyes to stream down his face. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t a joke. That was his real, attached finger that had just been horribly broken and the pain washing up into his arm was almost enough to make him gag. He choked on his own sobs, coughing and wheezing as his body shook with fresh trembles.

“Oopzie! Oh how clumsy of me, it zeems I have accidentally made ze boo-boo vhile adjusting your IV! How unfortunate. Not to worry, zhough! I vill be zure to fix it, once ve have concluded ze zurgery you are actually here for, hm? Yes. Zere zere now, just try to relax.” Dr. Schneeplestein, satisfied with his results, released Jack’s hand in favor of patting at Jack’s quivering head. He returned to the table and began grouping some items together; including a scalpel, forceps, tweezers and a beaker.

Jack was in too much pain to try and analyze the collection of instruments. His finger was still throbbing wildly behind him as he sniffled and sobbed. In a heartbeat, what appeared to be just a shitty gag video was suddenly, painfully real and Jack had absolutely no idea what to do. He’d apparently been kidnapped by some kind of madman that took his joking doctor role way too seriously and had zero qualms with causing Jack undue harm. Not quite willing to move his hands or arms yet, Jack twisting his legs against the ropes and again attempted to move his chair in some fashion. His panic had returned, and he didn’t want to be there anymore.

“Ze more you struggle, ze vorse it iz going to be~” Dr. Schneeplestein sing-songed from where he was pouring a clear solution into the beaker. He hummed a little tune as he set about preparing, utterly unphased by the sobbing young man beside him or the wild beeping of the heart rate monitor.

“Y-ye sick fook! You crazy person! If ye think I’m j-jus’ gonna sit here after you broke me finger and let ye do who-knows-what the hell ta me, then ye really are insane! Let me go!! I don’t know what the hell is really goin’ on here or who ye think ye are, but let me go!! LET ME GO!!!” Jack outright screamed through his sobs as his struggles redoubled. Fear and panic sent adrenaline rushing through his veins, but Dr. Schneeplestein wasn’t having any of it.

A gloved hand curled into Jack’s hair and jerked his head roughly back. Jack feared the crazed doctor might break his neck next, but this time he stopped before any serious damage could be done. Jack still screamed, terrified and uncomfortable, as his shoulders shook and his mouth gaped with heavy pants. His throat had been bared, and Dr. Schneeplestein stared him down with icy blue eyes as he place a scalpel to the pale skin. “I really do not have time for multiple zurgeries today, Mister McLoughlin. Please do not continue tempting me to mutilate your lovely body in horribly entertaining vaya~ Besides, he vouldn’t be very pleased viz me if I encroached upon his territory….” As if having second thoughts, the doctor pulled away from Jack and released his hair.

Jack’s head rolled forward with a shaky huff and he turned to scowl at the doctor over his shoulder. The man was digging around for something in the pockets of his coat. “Wh-who’s territory?? What’s goin’ on? Answer me! Is someone makin’ ye do this?! Are they the ones that called fer this fookin’ surgery an’ brought me here?! Tell me!! Tell me, you pile of arse, ye ragin’ sack of dimnpffgh!! Mnghhff!!”

“Zat voice of yours really iz zomezing, I’ll give you zat, Mister McLoughlin. But as your doctor, I require concentration for zis very delicate zurgery. I am zertain you understand.” Dr. Schneeplestein knotted off the strip of cloth he’d tugged forcefully between Jack’s teeth at the back of his head, then gave it another pat. Jack, furious and scared out of his wits, screamed against his new gag and thrashed much as the ropes would allow. “Zo fiesty. Do mind your IV, now. I’d hate to accidentally break any more of your fragile leetle bones if I have to plug it back in again.”

Jack didn’t listen, just continued to tug and twist and struggle as the doctor came back around to his front. He pulled a stethoscope from his breast pocket and popped it into his ears. “Now, before we begin, ze heartbeat! We must find ze heartbeat. Do try to hold ztill.” Jack did anything but, knocking the disc of the stethoscope off himself several times and eventually trying the doctor’s patience yet again. Abruptly, he was backhanded.

“I zaid hold ztill!!! I knew more ropes zhould have been applied, zat idiotic nurse! No matter. I vill have a talk viz her once ve are finished here.” A gloved hand gripped violently at Jack’s jaw; squeezing until he thought the joints might pop loose and he whimpered at the newfound pain. “Now, are you going to hold ztill or am I going to have to make you? I am a very buzy man, Mister McLoughlin, and am prepared to take vhatever actions may be necessary to perform zis zurgery. I vill hurt you very badly. Do I make myself clear?”

Cold blue eyes stared into Jack’s teary, frightened ones and he swore it felt like those piercing irises could stab into his brain; down into his very soul. He’d stopped struggling initially due to the pain, but now it felt as if ice had trickled down into his limbs, rendering them immobile. He scarcely breathed as they had their little staredown but then Dr. Schneeplestein’s eyes were narrowing dangerously. “Mister McLoughlin, I asked you a question.” More pressure was applied to Jack’s already aching jaw and he cried out; fresh tears welling up at the corners of his eyes.

“Ynnf! Ynnf! Ey nndrfnd!” Jack choked desperately around his gag. Finally satisfied, Dr. Schneeplestein’s eyes crinkled again with that invisible smile and he released Jack’s jaw.

“Very good! Now hold ztill.”

Jack’s head fell forward now that there was nothing propping it up and his breath hitched with another sob. His jaw was still aching and it throbbed dully in time with the sharp pangs of his finger now, which had no doubt swelled up like a balloon. Tears dripped steadily from his face as Dr. Schneeplestein felt about various places on his body with the stethoscope. It was like some sick mockery of his power hour video, where he’d played up not knowing where the heartbeat was for laughs. Except unlike Peter, he wasn’t just a piece of plastic.

“Hmm… where iz zat heartbeat…? Let me zee… hmm….”

Jack wanted to snap at the man; ask why he even needed to find Jack’s heartbeat when he was hooked up to a monitor, but the “doctor” was clearly insane. He didn’t need reasons or rationality to fuel his actions. Jack was gagged, anyway, so it all would have come out a garbled mess. Eventually, Dr. Schneeplestein shrugged and tossed the stethoscope carelessly over his shoulder.

“Oh well!! I’m zure it isn’t really all zat important, anyvay. After all, if you’re actually dead, zen zis shouldn’t hurt one bit! Wouldn’t zat be vantastic for you!” Dr. Schneeplestein clapped his hands together and grabbed up the scalpel off the nearby table again. “Now, finally, ve can perform ze zurgery!”

Jack’s fear returned in a white hot spike stabbing down into his gut and he jerked back in his chair, away from the mad doctor. Blue eyes wide with terror, Jack wildly shook his head; muffling nonsense against his gag. What had the guy said? He had “issues with his eye”? Jack didn’t like where that was headed- not if it included the use of a scalpel.

However, Dr. Schneeplestein merely sent him another one of those invisible smiles. “Now, now. Calm down. It’ll all be over zoon if you behave like a good leetle patient for ze nice doctor!” A gloved hand dropped onto Jack’s head, forcing it steady, and the doctor leaned in close with scalpel raised. Jack was shaking terribly from head to toe as he found his right eye staring down a razor sharp blade. He whimpered. “Oh, it’s okay, Zean. Just take deep breaths now and don’t move a muscle, or I might zlip~! And my contractor really vanted to keep zis eyeball of yours intact….”

Jack didn’t dare to move as the scalpel was pressed to the skin just beneath his eye. It wouldn’t get him anywhere now but worse injuries. However, he did shout and plead and beg through the gag in his mouth, praying that something, anything would get through to the doctor and stop this madness. There were still tears streaming down his face as he sniffled pathetically.

His efforts fell on deaf ears. With one hand smoothed over Jack’s temple, pushing his fringe out of the way, Dr. Schneeplestein dragged up Jack’s eyelid with his thumb. His other hand shifted the scalpel upwards, pressing the tip smoothly into the inside corner of Jack’s beautiful blue eye and then sliding it forward. As the blade cut between Jack’s sclera and the muscle he screamed; louder and more ragged than ever before. The pain in his finger was nothing compared to this. He screamed and shook and sobbed hoarsely as Dr. Schneeplestein carved around his eye; blood trickling from the wounds to join his tears. He could hear his heart monitor going absolutely crazy in the background but the doctor ignored it all.

Once an incision had been made around the circumference of Jack’s eye, Dr. Schneeplestein traded his bloody scalpel for one of many pairs of forceps lined up at the edge of the table. Jack swore he was grinning as he raised the little tool to Jack’s still bloody eye; half his vision blurred with tears and severed muscles. “Now zis iz ze fun part!”

The doctor clamped the forceps around the incisions he’d made; locking two rows of tiny, fine-tipped teeth into the muscle of Jack’s eyeball. He gave a blood curdling screech that proceeded to jump and hiccup in pitch as Dr. Schneeplestein went about tugging out his eye. The mad doctor laughed with glee as he gently twisted the forceps and pulled; dragging the eyeball out one centimeter at a time. “Hahaha! It iz like playing tug-of-war viz your brain! Except I am vinning~ Stubborn leetle eyeball, come vith me now, Mister McLoughlin von’t be needing you anymore!” The doctor ripped and twisted and pulled until the eyeball itself was free of Jack’s socket, and only the coil of ocular muscles remained to keep it tethered to his body.

He screamed again, though his voice was beginning to fail him, because he could still partially see out of the dangling eyeball. His vision was skewed between a giddy Dr. Schneeplestein and his own bloodied lap. The doctor hummed contently as he grasped Jack’s eyeball with his own gloved fingers; squishing it gently. “Ah yes, very good, very good. A healthy eyeball! He vill be quite pleased viz ze results, I am zure. Now, we just need to finish removing it….”

Rather than make another quick, clean slice with the scalpel, Dr. Schneeplestein grabbed another set of forceps that resembled a pair of very small scissors. The hinge was extremely close to the point, meaning he could only make tiny snips through the fibers behind Jack’s eye. He shouted and cried with every disconnection until he couldn’t scream anymore, and then he just wheezed out quiet sobs as his bloody eye was dropped into the clear solution Dr. Schneeplestein had poured out earlier. Humming again with satisfaction, the man stood and peeled off his bloodied gloves. He tossed them carelessly onto the table and picked up his clipboard as he rounded behind Jack again.

“Vell, Zean, it zeems ze insurance you have doesn’t cover anesthetic.... My, how unfortunate for you. Zat really does look quite painful.” The doctor chuckled to himself as he scribbled on his clipboard.

Jack hiccuped softly, breath hitching as his now empty eye socket took precedence over his other injuries. Blood was still dripping down one side of his face, while tears continued to leak from the other and his body trembled. The beeping from the monitor had settled some, but was still quite erratic. He sat slumped in his chair, peering up perilously at the doctor as he rounded back to stand in front of him again. The man clicked his pen.

“You zeem to be zuffering from ze shock, Mister McLoughlin. Not to vorry; I am zertain it vill vear off in just a bit. Now be a good boy and keep zat IV in vhile I am avay. It iz essential to your health. Try to get zome rest.” Dr. Schneeplestein placed the pen in his breast pocket and leaned down to pat at Jack’s head one more time. However, instead of immediately pulling away, his blue eyes glinted dangerously and he hooked two fingers over his surgical mask. “Oh, and by ze vay…”

Jack would have screamed again in absolute horror if he could manage to get his voice to work. Instead, he could only jerk back and stare with wide eyes as the doctor tugged his mask down to reveal rows of sharp teeth and an acid green tongue. Red slashes curled a few inches up his cheeks from the corners of his mouth, and split completely when he spoke; making his mouth stretch an inhuman amount to show off even more pointed teeth. The beeping in the background skyrocketed.

“Do tell Anti hello vor me.”