#i had the worse pots attack ive had in a while | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sugoi-writes · 4 years ago

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Question! How in your opinion would fatgum, todoroki, deku and dabi react to their hero s/o getting almost mortally wounded in a fight with an enemy? (they live but they were lucky as hell ) and how do they take care of s/o afterwards?

*cracks knuckles* This is a long one, so buckle up!

TW: violence, bodily harm/body horror, hospitalization.

Scenario: You are in a burning, severely damaged building, helping with evacuation and rescue during a villain attack. As the building starts to collapse, you shove the remaining survivors out, but you fall with the building.

You have several steel pipes stabbing through you (stomach, right arm and leg), leaving you severely bleeding. To make matters worse, you’ve also earned some 2nd degree burns. You make it to the hospital... but how will your s/o react???

Fatgum

More than likely on patrol in another district, Fatgum hears a distress call from Sun Eater, who was making rounds with you.

He and R.R rush over to the scene, and all they see are collapsed buildings, fires, and people being rushed off in stretchers.

There are several heroes helping to fight off a BBEG who has a fire breath weapon/quirk, and super strength. He has countless goonies who are really giving the Pros some trouble.

Fatgum is acting as support, and notices that you were there as well, helping with rescue/evacuation. But Fatgum knows something is off.

As he intervenes, catching someone with his FatTaxi to slow their fall/momentum, he hears you scream,” GO, NOW!!!”

When the building collapses, it takes everything for Fatgum not to rush to the falling building and rubble.

He unfortunately gets caught up in a fight, and ends up having to go on the offensive to help the other Pros.

When all is said and done, Fatgum is in his slim form, completely exhausted. Kirishima is doing his best to help him, supporting his weight. When he sees you before FG, he tries to steer him away. FG, of course, refuses.

With him needing medical attention as well, he somehow manages to get in the same ambulance as you, and the two of you are carted to the hospital as Kirishima stays to help with cleanup.

When you are rushed into the ER for surgery, Fatgum wants nothing more than to be there... but he’s separated, and treated for his own injuries.

When he’s patched up, he spends HOURS outside of the operation wing, wanting to hear something, ANYTHING. He’s on the edge of his seat when Tamaki and Kirishima come to see him. They brought Fatgum some things to munch on, as they know by now that stress eating was one of the only ways to get him back to his jolly state.

It also helped take some edge off of the situation, as Fatgum looked visibly shaken. All he can hear was the sound of your desperate scream before the building started to crumble, constantly replaying in his mind.

When the group of 3 heroes are informed of your stabilized status, they’re all immediately relieved, but the doctor adds that you’d be knocked out until next morning, due to the medication(s) you were on.

When Fatgum is allowed to enter your room, he almost immediately rushes to your side, kissing your hand and gripping it tightly as he watches you breathe, labored and slow. Kirishima and Tamaki can only hover around and try to comfort him, knowing that he’s going to be stubborn, unable to leave your side until you wake up.

Fatgum will just kiss your bloodied, patched up knuckles, smiling shakily as he watches you recover,” ...hopefully you won’t have to see me like this when you wake up...” he says softly. He smiles sadly,” Even if you think it looks pretty hot... Hahaha... haaa...” His head hangs a little lower, his voice softening as he looks back up to your calm, emotionless face,” I could really hound you about not being more careful... but I’m not one to talk. Wake up soon, so I can bring you some takeout and see your smile again...”

When you do wake up, Kirishima is the one to shake Fatgum awake. Being in his slim state still, you’re the first to tense up. However, you start to cough, the tension in your chest making your ribs and stomach hurt. Fatgum pushes up back down, so you can lay back down.

“Don’t get up... I...I know I look rough. But I’m here for you, Gummy Bear. And I’m just glad that you’re okay.”

Todoroki

Todoroki, in the middle of training, gets a call from his sister. She sounds panicked, and urges Todo not to turn on the TV for any reason for the next few hours. Todoroki seems confused, and disregards his sister’s plea.

When he turns on the TV... he sees what’s happening. The burning buildings... the smug grin on the villain’s face... and countless bodies in the streets. The camera pans to several people being carted away on stretchers, and low and behold... you were one of them. You were unconscious, a mask over your face to supply you with fresh oxygen as the air continued to fill with smoke and ash.

Todoroki sprung from his spot, throwing his shoes and coat on almost violently. He knows his father would be on sight, as the Number One Hero, meaning that his agents were too. He makes several desperate calls to try and figure out where you were being taken. After the third attempt, someone finally caves and tells him. Todoroki knew that you were being rushed to the ER, and your surgery would be underway very shortly.

Todoroki is there within 15 minutes, and he immediately runs into his siblings, who were trying to intervene. They knew he would be there, and that he would be distraught.

As his sister tries to calm him, Todo’s breath is chilled the instant he exhales, and his hands are trembling, both of them subtly reflecting their quirks. He was a mess and a mixing pot of emotions. Who was responsible for this mess? Why were you on the scene, in a burning building, all alone? Why didn’t you have back up from the inside???

So many thoughts swarmed around in his head as he silently fumed and despaired, scared that the unthinkable could happen to you. But his siblings tried to keep him calm, talking with him and urging him to try and focus on positive thoughts.

When the doctor strolled out, bearing the mildly good news, Todoroki nearly broke, his hands coming up to his face and he shuddered, not wanting to show that he was in tears. He was relieved. He was furious. He was so scared for you.

The Todorokis were cautious as they walked towards your room. You were still unconscious, with a series of instruments and IVs hooked up to you to keep you stable.

Todoroki could only hesitantly cup your cheeks, watching as your breath fogged up the mask over your face. He sighed shakily, kissing the top of your forehead, careful to not accidentally move you.

“...I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there to help you...” he would rasp quietly, while his siblings stepped back,” ...I promise... never to leave your side again. No matter what happens, whatever agency you chose or where you’re assigned... I’ll be there to support you. I’ll never let this happen to you--to either of us--again...”

When you do wake up, Todoroki has both of his hands wrapped around one of yours, his head leaning on the headboard of your hospital bed. His siblings are long gone. When Todoroki slowly starts to wake up, he immediately feels a surge of relief, and kisses the top of your head again, tears flowing freely. This was the Todoroki you knew. The stoic exterior has broken, almost completely, as you lay there, unable to reach up and hug him back. You try to rasp something out, but your voice is shattered from your final screams of agony.

Todoroki calms himself, pulling away briefly as he gives you a very tired, relieved smile,” ..I-It’s going to be alright...I..I’m here now, baby...”

Izuku

Full Cowlings, Detroit and Delaware Smashes... Izuku is going ham on the scene of the incident, acting as a major player on the offensive team. He knows that you are the careful type, and typically trusts your judgements. After all, you were smart and your quirk was unique. The chances of you being in trouble were slim, as long as you had back up.

But as a villain grabbed him by his collar, and violently flung him against a building, he felt the ground beginning to shake. His eyes widened in horror as he narrowly recovered, a villain smashing violently into the compromised building.

He heard you scream, and that was it for him. He crouched down, using as much of OFA as he could, before springing towards your voice. However, this was the perfect window, and another villain snatched him up midair, slamming him back down to the ground below. By the time he covered, the building was already in ruins. Fury surged through him, as he mustered all he could into an obliterating series of kicks and punches, knocking several villains out of his way as he nearly pole vaulted towards you.

Izuku started moving rubble, able to identify where you fell by your wavering voice and hiccups of pain. Uraraka was quick to stop him, as his reckless actions could actually endanger you.

Uraraka lifted the parts of the building that were crushing you, and both she and Deku turned white as snow.

There you were, crumbled and trembling, your voice coming in heavy, wavering pants.

“Pl...Please... don’t... don’t look, Izuku...” you pleaded, immobilized. But Deku was already lunging towards you, barking over his shoulder for help. You started blacking out by this point. All you remember were visions of heroes prying you out safely. Nurses and field staff were carrying you. Lastly, you saw flashes of desperate, green eyes, looking to you in desperation.

“Please, Y/N! Don’t give up! Keep fighting to stay awake!”

However, despite your struggle to keep conscious, you lost the battle, and your vision faded to black. You couldn’t remember how long you slept. But occasionally, you would hear a voice or two, talking to or of you. Maybe it was the doctors... probably All Might, Izuku... all of these voices swirled in your mind as you rested, unable to rouse yourself. You were completely and utterly exhausted.

When you did wake up, All Might stood next to you, clutching his chest in relief. You tried to speak up, but he shushes you quickly, pointing to Izuku.

He was in the hospital bed next to you, almost as messed up as you were. Your heart dropped into your stomach, but All Might ruffled your hair, sighing.

“I understand... your relationship with Young Midoriya. He cares a great deal about you. But, at least for his sake... you need to be careful...” he would comment, shortly after asking you how you were feeling, and what you remember.

“Midoriya, the poor boy... he left straight for the front lines again when another building started to fall. I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to hold up almost half of the building... he saved so many people, but it ended up almost crushing him in the process. And even then... he still climbed up, and screamed that he would protect everyone.”

All Might sat on the edge of your bed,” ...he specifically said that he would protect you, too...”

Your eyes swelled with tears, as you listened to Izuku’s mentor. You were more than familiar with Izuku pushing himself and his body to its absolute limit, but supporting an entire building... that had to take insane mental and physical strength.

“The good news is: he will recover. Slowly, VERY slowly... but surely. The both of you are lucky to be alive. The bad news... is that you will both need pretty intensive care for about a month. But... until then, I was at least able to place him in the same room as you.”

All Might’s cheeks flashed with a small blush, as he sighed and scratched the back of his head,” Kids these days...” he grumbles tiredly, standing up slowly

“Try and get some rest. I’m sure you’ll need it once he wakes up.”

You nod, thanking All Might for the considerate update. You reach out, and are surprised to see that your hand could just barely reach the edge of his bed. You smile sadly, tears running down your cheeks,” ...you idiot... you had to go feral again, didn’t you?”

Dabi

He knew the ins and outs of this operation, as he was familiar with these set of villains initiating the attack. Shigaraki was more than happy to make his own move, using the other attack as a distraction.

Dabi trusted that you would not be in the district, thinking that you would be wrapped up in a boring patrol or worse... paperwork. But boy, was he wrong.

Word got to him quickly, as Toga went undercover, against Dabi’s wishes. Feigning as an innocent bystander, she saw you falling, and ultimately had thought you died. She warned Dabi not to come, and that this was what he gets for getting involved with a Pro Hero.

Dabi did not like that. And Dabi would see to it that you would be safe from now on.

Long after your surgery, in the middle of the night: that was when he appeared.

Many of the staff were long gone, and it had dwindled down to the few souls on the graveyard shift. Many were so tired from the amount of patients they had, hurriedly making their rounds so they could lounge/decompress from the horrors they saw today.

Sneaking through the roof’s entrance, Toga was more than able to snag a new disguise, blood and all. As she strolled through, dressed as one of the nurses. Meanwhile, Dabi was dressed in all black, slinking a few feet behind her with a turtleneck, coat, and shades on.

He would duck into open rooms and corridors should anyone pass, while Toga was more than capable of keeping up her ruse.

When they got to the Post-OP ward, it took only a few tries to find you.

And there you were... laying so weakly, defenselessly on your hospital bed, countless machines hooked onto you. Toga would later regret not taking any of your blood for future use.

Toga locked the door behind them as Dabi closed in on you, reaching out to you,”...Little mouse... it’s time to wake up.”

Your eyelids flutter as a new voice invades your senses, before a cool hand presses to your forehead. You feel Dabi’s hand brush your hair away from your face, before you slam your eyes open.

You practically seize at the sight of him before you, unable to move. You trembled softly, a cautious smile stretching across your lips,” D....Dabi... you can’t... h-how... did you--”

Dabi is swift to cut you off, leaning down to where his lips could almost brush against your oxygen mask.

“That’s something we can discuss later... I have a bone to pick with you, little mouse...” You winced as Dabi’s hand slams against the bed, nearly colliding with you head as you stare back up at Dabi anxiously.

“Do you know... why I’m here?” Dabi asks you calmly, causing you to flush ever so slightly. “I-Is it... because I got hurt...?”

Dabi sighs exasperatedly, looking back to you,” If it were a minor injury, I wouldn’t have bothered... but that little stunt you pulled today almost had you killed,” Dabi practically growls, leaving your heart hammering in your chest. You glance away, unable to deny this.

“I-I know... I... wasn’t thinking clearly. I promise, next time, I won’t--”

“Next time?” Dabi mocks, his brows furrowing. He smirks, a low chuckle erupting in his chest,” Little mouse, there will be no ‘next time’...”

You blink with confusion as Dabi leans closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear,” ...as soon as you’re recovered... as soon as you get out of this god forsaken place... you’re coming with me. And you will never. Ever. Leave my side again.”

You try to protest as you feel his hot breath against your ear, trembling. It would be even more dangerous to stay with him. A Pro Hero and a villain being in a relationship secretly is one thing... but between all of the times that you or him covered for one another, leaked confidential information, or... been in the same bed... you would both be done for if word got out.

“...Toga-kun here... is willing to bust you out with me... You will not be forced to join The League. But we will house you, while you go on a permanent Hero’s Hiatus. You will take the time you need to recover. And you will NOT. Leave the base... unless I say so... because I can’t trust you to act with your best judgement safely.” Dabi laughs, but his laughter quickly died to a weak chuckle,” ...don’t you get it...? I nearly lost you again today.”

Dabi’s voice wavers momentarily, before his eyes hardened again. You shrink under his gaze, as his eyes burrow into yours,” ...and I’m not going to risk losing you again. Even if I have to take matters into my own hands... and force you to be an obedient, careful little pet...”

You shudder at his words, wincing in pain shortly after. Dabi’s expression softens for a moment, as he removes the mask covering your face momentarily.

He leans down, placing a chaste kiss to your lips, before slowly pulling away. You swore that Dabi’s eyes were glassy. But before you could call him out on this, Dabi let go of your face mask. It reconnects with your face suddenly, stinging as it violently settles back in place.

Dabi smiles, the snap of the elastic amusing him. You looked disgruntled, and he wouldn’t mind seeing you that way more.

“...I’ll be back for you soon, babe... so make sure... that you take extra care while I’m gone.” Dabi rumbles lowly, pinching your cheek before standing upright. Toga gives him a nod, telling him that the coast is clear. And just like that, Dabi and Toga slip out without a trace, leaving your mind spinning and your chest heaving.

(Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! <3)

#todoroki shoto x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #fatgum x reader #dabi x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #angst #tw: violence #tw: body horror #tw: gore #tw: hospitalization #tw: yandere

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heli0s-writes · 4 years ago

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IV. Symbiosis

Summary: “Since you’ve been caught—” Fury squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries. Petty theft. Grand larceny. The damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

A/N: 4.8k words. I’m a liar who lies because after 4 months of overthinking and coming up with diddly squat, here is part 4 of Trinity Epoch sans smut. I’m sorry! I’ll double your pleasure next time. xx Thank you for sticking with me, I’m so sorry it’s taken so long.

Warnings: Language. References to canon-typical violence.

Trinity Epoch Masterpost

Bucky stays like that a while longer, just breathing.

Your fingers trace his hair—running through the strands, over the shell of his ear, then resting briefly on his cheek. All the ways you used to with Natasha when she’d break her own heart, or maybe ways you would have liked her to have done for you when you felt like you were dying a little bit.

You feel it now: a small death in the wake of last night’s simple touches. Your body and Steve’s body curled around each other sprung something immeasurable, as if the drift flowered then and ripened beneath your skins. You bit into it. You savored its taste. You could have lived on it alone.

Everything smears together like a child’s careless hand in a mess of paints until all the brights muddle dark. A shaky breath as you work yourself into calming, trying to find coherent words while your head remains a pot of sideways soup, at best.

Bucky shifts until he’s looking up at you, nose millimeters away. His irises are just a touch more gray, a sprinkle less green. You can see Steve in him, just as he can see Steve in you and then your eyes begin to prickle, Nat’s face undulating behind the burn.

You don’t really know what you want to say. Maybe apologize, run, beg for forgiveness, grab Bucky by the shoulders and shake him until he understands that you didn’t mean it— you didn’t mean to hurt him. That you love him. That he lives inside you, too.

His ghost from the drift— the aftermath phenomena of the neural bridge when pilots take on a bit of each other’s consciousness out of the cockpit and into the world with them. Take two people with a predisposition for the drift into the cockpit into each other’s brains and they exit heightened—sharper, better—imbued with each other’s strengths and knowledge. Mind-meld long enough, deep enough, and your core endures, but you become a different beast.

When Steve’s consciousness bled into yours, so did Bucky’s. If you walked away with half of Rogers, you also got a quarter of Barnes and it only compounded worse during Polidori’s drop. Resurrecting trauma, agitating itself, making a mess of your weary soul.

You relived his amputation last night, just as fresh as you relived Nat’s death. More visceral than the first trial run, you witnessed him—felt him—torn and hoarse, clutching his shoulder as he rocked helplessly inside Orion’s chest, frayed wires sparking across his cheek and landing in his own blood. His teeth gnashing together as he tried to hold on for Steve’s sake, steering his co-pilot’s panic back on course. Terrified and agonized, but he was hellbent on making it out.

Bucky who made you laugh. Bucky who took you to dinner. Who walked with you, gave you his jacket, listened to your rambling and crying, and kissed you because you reminded him of his co-pilot, or maybe of himself.

How could you not love him, after all this?

Armageddon slows for nothing though, and before the first letter of his name can fall out recklessly from your mouth, three precise thumps jostles it back in.

Steve’s voice is muffled through heavy steel. “You in there?”

The door slides open with a tremulous croak but neither of you bother to separate. Nothing seems to matter now.

“Buck...” Steve looks from one raw face to the other, stepping forward and reaching out. He grasps Bucky’s hand. “We should talk—” he closes his mouth into a thin line, shoulders slumping heavily before letting go. “I’m sorry. Later. Shit’s hit the fan.”

The office is stagnant air full of questions but other than the squeak of the marshal leaning back in his chair, nobody makes a sound.

Fury untucks a finger from the crook of his elbow before pointing it between your eyes.

“Culpability.”

Across the room, you flinch in his crosshairs. Standing apart from them, you’re partially slack against one of many steel filing cabinets, using it to prop yourself up in case your knees might give out as vertigo descends.

It’s been a lot to take in. Everything— the night, the morning, emotionally, mentally, physically. The hull is a steel cage, and pilots are well armored, but you’re still hooked up to the robot enduring damage, taking hits at barely .0001 percent, but taking it all the same. You’re bruised up good beneath your clothes— Polidori’s claws leaving four tender imprints of a scratch to Orion’s right shoulder. Your shoulder. Steve’s shoulder.

To your right, he shifts. A tiny hint of pain streaks over his expression before it falls serene again, fixed on Fury.

“Since you’ve been caught—” the marshal squints, “Canoodling With The Allegedly Injured James Barnes, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already halfway finished with digging you up. Forgeries, petty theft, grand larceny, the damn rest of the kitchen sink. So, Ranger…” The way he says it is both lazy and threatening, completely on brand and irritatingly calm.

“Here’s my suggestion: get ahead of this thing before it knocks you on your ass.”

This thing, being any story a 13-year old kid with two thumbs and a twitter account can spin between now and when you let Pepper Potts spin it for you first. There’s not a lot imagination can’t conjure to fill in the blank pixelated space between Bucky standing on the curb and you right behind him wearing his cap and jacket. Not to mention that once speculation goes live, it starts sprouting all sorts of appendages with minds of their own, and no matter how diligently you might cut one off, two would only sprout in its place.

The marshal stands up and takes heavy steps before turning the corner of his desk, absently tapping a pile of folders together like they’re not already in a perfect column. He slips a manila folder out from the stack and it becomes obvious that his suggestion is just buildup to some other type of impetus.

When you open the file up under his sharp gaze, you feel the blood drain from your face and possibly from your entire body.

The bullet he aimed between your eyes hits home. Cue your brains blowing out slow. Impetus met.

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky appears over your shoulder, staring at the same grainy photocopied document. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like I make a lot of jokes?” Fury leans forward, pointer curving over the top edge, tapping emphatically one, two, three times, even waving it back and forth in front of your unseeing eyes. “I’ve got a good contact inside the PPDC who risked a lot to get this out. They’re just plans for now, dogeared behind other pages, but don’t doubt the Corps’ cowardice for a second. The second this program looks like it might not hold up, they’ll turn their efforts there.”

You’re gone. Trapped between the lines, vehemently scanning the page, reading the same words over and over until they no longer make sense. But it’s not like they made any sense in the first place.

ANTI-KAIJU WALL: CONSTRUCTION AGENDA. SPRING 2020.

The conception of a perimeter stretching around the Pan Pacific—North and Central America, East and South Asia to isolate emerging Kaiju. It’s a fetal skeleton at most, the roughest of outlines for a plan, and truthfully, it’s no plan at all.

It’s shameful. It’s shit.

The so-called Wall of Life implies the portending death of the Program—of all Shatterdomes and Jaegers. It implies no support, no funding, and no repairs. No Kodiak. No juniors. No future.

Back and forth, you’re still desperately inspecting as if the words might shift into a new message, maybe one that didn’t spell out certain extinction, but despair is rippling across your face. Bi Fang and Polidori had wings, and they were only Category II. Bi Fang massacred one of the best pilots you’ve ever known—and it was only a Category II. Any higher and they’d blow through that wall like a ribbon of wet toilet paper.

Hysteria creeps up at the mere thought of it, fear stubbornly lodging itself in your throat. Nuclear-powered automata—the only proven defense against the terror of massive alien attacks are being dismantled in favor of steel rods and cinderblocks. They might as well build it out of Legos.

Anti-Kaiju Wall. A string of ants meeting a boot.

You’re panting softly, tongue swollen in your mouth, shaking with equal parts terror and rage, on the verge of breaking into inappropriate laughter and yelling.

“What—what do they expect?” You croak, “The breach opens, the fucking thing comes out, sees a fence, and what—they think it’s—going to crawl back in…?”

“Hey, calm down,” Bucky curls his fingers around your elbow. His hand and its black plates are peering at you, purring, dull gold bands threading at the knuckles. For a second, the prosthetic disappears. For a second, he’s blood red again.

“Hey!” Bucky grips tightly when you sway. “I’m fine! Don’t—don’t.” Steve’s jaw is set firmly on your other side, arms crossed so severely his biceps bulge with the strain.

“Nick,” He’s abruptly brusque as he eases the file from your grip. “Give us a minute.”

“You’re in my office.” But the marshal’s words hold no bite. He’s already won; he knows. Cornered again, he’s got you same as before in Red Cloud.

You get the gist: play out your redemption arc and come clean with your record. Win over the public, hoard all the additional support and funding you can because you’ll need every goddamn cent of it when the PPDC rips it away. The gossip. The photos. The headlines. It’s the perfect opportunity for a few hundred million when the media is putting a magnifying glass on your presence in Hong Kong.

Duty. Duty. Duty.

You’re just one small part of this colossal puzzle—a negligible smear of guts across the battlefield trying to keep the rest of the pieces together while the PPDC sits in their panic rooms throttling the entire fucking thing.

Fury steps to the cabinet and slides the file back in its place, keeping the illusion of it being just another unremarkable envelope in a row of hundreds of others. The metal drawer shuts with a clang, housing the most damning piece of information you’ve ever seen. His tact aside, you know he would never show you his hand like this if it wasn’t completely necessary—or pertinent.

Steve was right, you understand now.

The world owes you. And it owns you.

The next six—seven?—hours scatter like pulled teeth with your head spinning like a top the entire way. Pepper had been outside the door for the conversation, waiting on standby to whisk you off for princess lessons. Having already (and correctly) predicted your compliance, Fury scheduled an interview for precisely at nine. Then you were off, towed along by Miss Potts and her hasty strut.

You try to find perspective, reminding yourself that you’ve successfully gone toe-to-toe with the Empire State Building with fifteen rows of teeth seven fucking times and come out on the other side alive and if not in one whole piece, then at least 2-3 relatively serviceable pieces. You’re functional. A little damaged, but fine enough. But there’s also the fact that you’d just hopped out of Orion not even 24 hours ago coupled with how you’re suddenly in the middle of something that feels less like a confused love triangle and more like divine providence at the end of the world.

Fuck. No time to think about it now. The human brain is not programmed to multitask, and you’re hanging on by a mere thread. You prioritize making it through the night just as alive as you can make it out of a drop. Just a couple of hours and you can rest. Just a couple more.

After what felt like an eternity and a half of simulating Q&A, practicing your posture, smiling into a mirror, and one horrible limo ride where you stared dead-eyed out the window—Steve and Bucky’s steely gazes after you—the building finally comes into view.

Hair. Makeup. Wardrobe. You wear pants. You smile for the camera. You don’t stand in the middle of the group photo.

8:55 and time halts to a near stop. You can hear your heart in your throat, or in your skull. Your eyes feel switched from their sockets, or stomach rotated 30 degrees. Someone fixes your mic wire, your blouse collar, asking you to turn just a little over there. Three cameras are pointed to capture every angle, punitive red dots angry and glaring.

A live broadcast was agreed upon to ensure the least amount of potential edits and skews, as well as the charmingly quaint idea that it’s unscripted. The rub, therein, lies upon the burden of poise and a flawless performance. You rehearsed lines until your jaw felt like it was coming unhinged. Then you did it again.

Everything requires precision, and you keep that in mind with your hand on the glass of Dom Perignon being constantly refilled. An amicable gesture by the hosts, but their intentions are cunning: loose lips sink ships, and they’re betting on yours to sink the S.S. Orion Bravo.

Out of view, the translator sits with her legs crossed, listening to the questions before turning the words over in English.

You take a sip of champagne and it fires off like a gunshot—Cantonese and English in rapid-fire verses.

<2017 was a fateful year for both the Jaeger Program and the world. Beloved pilot Natasha Romanoff sacrificed her life to protect Alaska’s coast in a final battle against Category 2 Bi Fang. Memorials dedicated to Romanoff’s efforts appeared across every nation to lament her death and celebrate her heroism. Yet, somehow, no one seemed to be asking the million-dollar question: Where is her co-pilot?>

The host’s open hand urges your reply.

The lights seem to turn up even brighter. Your back starts sweating. The room is about to collapse. In short, naturally—infuriatingly—you choke.

Seven hours of droning like a broken wind up toy, already knowing how to answer this question by heart, prepping yourself for the interrogation, the relentless demand to publicize your grief, to placate the people about your relationship with their heroes—and, you choke.

Bucky’s chin tilts microscopically in the corner of your line of vision. You’re fine, he’s saying, you got it. He’s strangely calm, even pleased, as you stutter involuntarily. Like he’s the first to remember an inside joke you’d long forgotten, his grin widens the longer you look at him. Steve turns next. Focus. Don’t fight the drift. The drift is silence.

And suddenly, your shoulders ease. The static in your exhausted brain slides out of your ears.

You sit up tall. You smile. It doesn’t quite feel like your smile, but, it’s a good one. You know this smile; it’s Steve’s smile. Like a seamless assembly, you fall into rhythm.

The white of his teeth slip out from between Steve’s lips. He notices too.

You calmly recite the introductory speech you’d been practicing for the last two hours, feeling out your new voice, borrowing from his bearing—deeper, smoother, certain. The major points get run through: your record and own personality traits keeping you from the spotlight, admitting genuinely that you’re pretty damn uncomfortable now, so they’ll have to forgive you for any slip ups. It goes over well, as Pepper predicted; “candid” blunders made Rangers human—made them likable.

When the subject of Anchorage rolls back around, you can practically feel Steve’s jaw bulging preemptively. You graze his foot with yours as a warning to back off.

<It’s remarkable that you were able to bring the Jaeger back to shore, there has been only one pilot who was capable of that—>

“I’m thankful to have had Stacker Pentecost as my mentor. I owe so much of my resilience to him. It was difficult, but simply put, I had no other choice. I feel so lucky to have survived it.”

“She was one of a kind.”

“Yes.”

The host clears his throat, visibly awkward that you’re being so terse, but taking the hint until Bucky turns into the spotlight, that divorced happiness he’s so skilled at beaming into the lenses.

Steve easily picks it up, steering the conversation where he wants it to go. He’s disarmingly sincere as he relays the process of Bucky’s injury, replacement, apprehension, and finally success

His bright blue eyes flicker secret messages and you decipher them all.

“The connection was like—"

There’s a bell chiming in your ears. Bright, crisp chirps of it, cutting through laughter and bickering. You taste summer air in your throat, Bucky’s hair flying in the wind. “Riding a bike…”

“Exactly. New bike, same motions, and it worked. It was great. We learned things about each other. Some good, some bad—”

Crosshatched pencil lines of their shared apartment. Smudges of charcoal in a sketchbook. “He’s an unbelievable artist, but—”

“No— don’t say it!”

Bucky smothering a small kitchen fire. Steve throwing a damp rag on him in a frantic attempt to assist. Your voice is bubbling out gleefully. “—an awful cook!”

“It’s true,” Bucky smugly chimes in. “The boy can’t boil water. Breakfast eggs come with shells every time.” You can taste the grit between your molars—crushed grains inside an overdone omelet, Bucky spitting out spinach and feta cheese.

“Oh my god,” you sputter into a sip of champagne. “It’s so bad.”

“Do you see what I have to deal with? Two people knowing my secrets. Two.”

<Fantastic! Already we can see a great friendship here—>

It seems congratulatory, but there’s determination to drive into scandalous territory, poking at any rumor to lance and leak. A sly smile crosses his face as his assistant shows photos of you and Bucky in the city, but the lurid suggestion only gets shrugged off. “We’d gone out for dinner. It was the first time I’d left the Shatterdome after Seigehook and I needed moral support.”

“I’d give you my jacket if you looked cold.”

<Steve, Ophelia isn’t concerned that your new co-pilot is a woman?>

“No, absolutely not. ‘Lia’s the first person to support Orion—and the loudest. I don’t know what I’d do without her. You don’t have her behind the curtain, too, do you?”

<Well, what about personal memories? Won’t you know everything about each other…? Private things?>

“Sure, but what pair of pilots don’t? You got twins and siblings, not just married couples. Look, here’s the thing: the neural bridge doesn’t take you to a filing cabinet. It’s not open like that. It’s more like—somebody help me—” Bucky snaps his fingers your way, “—what’d you call it the other day?”

You didn’t, but you say, “A dream?”

“Right, a dream. If you think about it, you can pull on it, but if it’s not in the forefront of your mind. It’s a non-issue.”

“We’re all adults here,” Steve confirms.

Steve’s palm faces outward as if keeping the host at bay— or, you think, keeping himself at bay. “Hold on. This isn’t about replacement. Nobody is framing it like a nail in the coffin—we’re in the interim of a period of time, readjusting. Short of death, nothing is going to take him away.”

Sunlight. Recruitment. Ice baths. Training until they had to carry each other to bed. Your eyes flutter, head pilfering through the memories like instinct.

“James is still Orion’s co-pilot.” You agree. Apprehension. Dread. Terror. Confidence in each other even when they didn’t believe in themselves. They were together. Nothing else mattered. “Steve’s co-pilot.”

The tight look on his face is temporarily wiped as he beams proudly, “He’s my Bucky. Always has been, always will be.” He claps Bucky on the back twice and each thump’s echo bounces its way into your chest.

Bucky bristles and sputters, but a healthy pink dusts its way across his cheeks, “Don’t embarrass me, Rogers.”

“Are you blushing?” You tease, elated.

“Don’t you start, either.”

<Well… this is very wonderful. Is there a possibility we’ll be seeing a triple-piloted machine? The Tang triplets have been in talks for a new model.>

Steve shakes his head. “We haven’t discussed it yet. Nothing’s off the table, by any means. Just not priority at the moment.”

“Normalcy, as much as we can get in the middle of all this.” Bucky holds out his hand, closing it into a fist, letting the camera zoom in. “We’re… still working through all the kinks, balancing the personal and global.”

He flexes his fingers, letting the microphones pick up the drone of machinery, but his meaning is another secret. Clicking Morse codes of well-oiled obsidian plates purring two names. You’ve stopped listening to everything but the echo incandescent in your heart.

You down your glass.

Champagne tipsy, you try not to stagger through the lobby. The doorman nods toward the limousine parked faithfully by the curb.

The barrage of questions slowed after it became apparent that there would be no sensationalist headline. There was attention to Bucky’s arm, his handsome face, of course, before the banter quickly devolved into entertaining frivolous sidebar queries. Five flutes bubbled down your throat and by the end of it, you no longer wanted to grab camera one and shake the shit out of it, anger whittled down to a dull hum of annoyance.

Thirty million stupid dollars for inane reels of:

What’s in your purse? What do you eat? How do you stay feminine in a Shatterdome full of testosterone—have you tried any K-beauty skincare routines? Do you have anyone special in your life?

Bucky went in, then, leaning forward until he was nearly rocking off and leveled his glare. You know she’s on the other side of the same robot, buckled up into a ninety-pound rig steering two-hundred tons of—

It took a miracle (see: Steve’s firm hand discreetly on the back of Bucky’s neck and Pepper drawing a sharp line across her throat) to effectively halt the derailing train.

“I can’t believe,” Bucky grouses now, opening the door and waving the driver back to the front. “Those goddamn questions.”

“Does wiping my sweaty face with my even sweatier shirt count as skincare? What’s the K stand for?”

Bucky smacks the back of your head with one hand, other clumsily yanking the door open with the other. “For Korean—have you been living under a rock? Just—get in the fuckin’ car.”

You slap him back. “Quit it, you invalid.”

“Invalid? I’ll show you a fuckin’—Steve, did you hear—”

“Both of you, get in the car.”

And you shriek, scrambling in and yanking Bucky along by the scruff of his jacket. Mischief courses beneath your skin, encouraged by clever alcohol, now fully buzzed its way to every extremity.

Still giggling and leaning into the thrill of it, you slump over the smooth plastic molding of the door and press your face against the tinted window. It’s a cool reprieve on your warmed cheek, frosting when your temperature meet the glass. Bucky’s easy Cantonese, albeit slurred, is requesting a ride back to base. His hand has found its way into yours, fingers laced large and warm, clasping tight before he lets go.

“Haven’t had a drink—oh--” you murmur, catching yourself as the wheels shift.

“Since Red Cloud.”

“Outta my head, Rogers.”

“Says the person who kept finishing my sentences during that interview.”

“It’s the champagne! It makes me—“

“Stupid?”

“You’re an ass, Barnes.” But you’re laughing at him, at the way he’s smirking— cheeks gone ruddy. Both of them, open beside each other, heads inclined intuitively together. It makes you ache to see—to experience again after disruption—Rogers and Barnes. Barnes and Rogers. Perfectly fitted.

The partition slides up. The sunroof tugs open with a whistling draft.

Hong Kong’s lights are vivid—too much to properly see the extent of space’s beauty, but there are a few twinkles you’re able to make out in the moonless night as light poles and skyscraper tips whiz overhead. They’re brighter than most, simple to spot patterns in the dark.

“Orion’s out tonight,” you mutter, moving to catch the line of its belt, “Look. Beneath his feet is Lepus, the hare, pursued for all time.” From across, Steve follows, also looking to find their hero as your hair rustles wildly, making a hurricane against your ear.

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic,” Bucky scolds. He’s annoyed and comfortable on leather, ankle crossed over opposite knee. “You’re not being chased by anything. Besides, if you were a constellation, you’d probably be the soup ladle.”

You laugh. He’s always playing the part of a stoic so well. “Hey, I’ll have you know the Little Dipper’s got the north star in it. That soup ladle’s gonna be the thing that gets you home when you’re lost.”

The tone shifts—time dragging its pace as you look at them in wonder. The city’s overripe heaviness of the blows through, making goosebumps on heated skin.

“Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky slips his jacket from his shoulders to slide over yours. He tugs the lapels down like he’s trying to keep you on earth and your hands clasp on his wrists for a second before you let go. They’re both sitting up now, watching your bleary gaze unfocus.

Steve and Bucky oscillate in front of your eyes, their lines blurring until it doesn’t really matter who you’re looking at—until they become one. So easy, like this, just them like two sides of the same coin, belonging so seamlessly to each other.

“Sorry,” you blurt in shame, “I feel like I fucked it up. Ruined a thing that wasn’t mine to ruin.”

“Think you put it together,” Steve responds quietly, and the simplicity of his statement throws you off. “We found our way.”

“Soup ladle,” Bucky jokes.

“But, aren’t we just trading one war for another? World peace only made it because of monsters.” Unspoken questions hidden inside large-scale metaphors— symbiosis could only be achieved under the lies of other relationships. Whatever this would be, it wouldn’t be accepted. Steve still retains his supermodel girlfriend and you and Bucky dutifully fall in line for your own packaged little PR lies.

He shrugs. “I’m fine with losing a few battles in this war, but Orion’s got a good track record, doesn’t it, Buck?”

“Twelve— thirteen kills, sweetheart.” Bucky’s grin is lopsided. “Don’t forget you made that happen.”

“Thirteen’s an unlucky number.”

“Feels lucky to me.” Steve’s hand wraps around your wrist, thumb resting on your pulse. He taps your skin, looking genuinely apologetic. “Listen, all I can do is ask— and I’m not good at asking for things. I just want to make them happen.” A quick glance at the watch under his cuffs and he tugs at your arm like a lost child, “So, before we get back… will you come here?”

As he said, he’s not really asking. More like reaching his will out to you, finding you when you’re caught in the undertow and pulling you back to safety. To them. Okay. Okay.

Your footing slips, but they take your hands and turn you carefully, letting you settle in between. Bucky hums a low sound, fingers curling around your waist. Steve does the same to the opposite side and you feel both torn apart and held together by them.

Steve nuzzles your neck, hot on your skin.

“She was wrong,” he whispers, barely audible over the sound of your rising breath, “You know that? She was wrong, and I was wrong. I thought it couldn’t happen—thought I had other priorities, other things to manage and settle and save and... I lost sight of what matters most. But I’m gonna really fix it this time—I’m gonna do it right by you.”

He looks to Bucky, pained and relieved, “Both of you, I promise.” He takes Bucky’s hand in his own and holds it to his mouth, kissing his knuckles, his palm, saying softly, “I love you, Buck. I’m sorry you waited so long.”

“Hey stupid,” Bucky says shakily when your chin starts to quiver at the sight of them. He’s sniffling and swallowing his syllables, unable to stop himself from staring at Steve’s face in his hand, how Steve kisses the blue pulse in his wrist. “Ain’t you—too pretty to cry?”

The rocking of the car flattens out as Steve gently presses his lips to yours, letting the trail of salt bursting down your cheek into his mouth. He moves to the line of your jaw, promising,

It’s okay. I got you. Nothing’s gonna hurt you anymore.

They kiss you and the world turns itself right.

They kiss you and then they kiss each other. Again and again and again.

#marvel #stucky #stucky x reader #pacific rim au #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #fanfiction #reader insert #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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char-lotteral · 3 years ago

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SS fandom went mad because NH got The Last movie, and just went on to attack NH fandom and act superior. Then SS calmed down with the news of the Gaiden featuring their ship. Then went mad again after the Gaiden finished because it didn't picture their ship like they wanted it to be, attacking other ships especially NH for no good reason. If you were there in 2014/2015 you would have seen how toxic SS fandom was towards others it's crazy.

O-O okay wow. I dont want to seem biased with my fandom and I also do not intend on starting ship wars but damn if im being honest, even on twitter you can tell how rabid some of their fans are. These are all my personal experiences and observations so please dont take it seriously :[] I also really wanna share this type of behavior and say that this isnt healthy AT ALL nor is it funny or whatever the fuck some fans intend it to be. No one should go through these lengths for a bunch of pixels.

Say one wrong thing about their ship, you'll most likely get death threats on your cc. A mutual of mine interacted with this big ss account (negative interaction yaddayadda), they stalked her account and got sent death threats. ALSO there was this one time trinity (bkgsbby) held this sort of narutwt confession thingy where you get to post anonymous confessions and it gets posted on her account. There were a ton of negativeity towards SS (also NH) and they were LOSING IT. This one acc fucking ATTACKED TRINITY and called her out for "being biased and only picking the bad stuff for ss boohoo" when none of those confessions were even trinity's😩 Its like youre BANNED from saying anything negative against SS or else they'll come for you. Like really come for you.

Idk but from what ive noticed, they also have this need to compare The Last and Sauce Retsuden, they downplay NH with the same argument "they only fell in love because of genjutsu! Forced ship! Shitty development!" Lol okay, talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Not gonna lie, not one single canon ship in Naruto was developed properly (maybe shikatema but you already knew that) but SS and NH fans calling each other underdeveloped ships will always be COMEDIC GOLD.

For some fucking reason it is illegal to ship sasuhina and or sasunaru over there. Not kidding. Say anything about Sasuke being gay and they'll come for your head. "Sasuke was intimate with Sakura!! Sasuke isn't gay!!!! 😡😡😡" "Sasuke never interacted with Hinata!!! How dare you ship Sasuke with another woman that isnt Sakura😡😡😡😡" Now im not saying this behavior only applies to their fandom, but it's pretty rampant over there. I dont want to seem passive aggressive.

I shit you not, my mutual and I were making these fun little headcanons of Sasuhina and they started popping out of nowhere. They were pissed lmao. "Sasuke doesnt even know Hinata's name wtf"

who CARESSSSSSSS UGHHH

No but whats WORSE, is when this sh artist on twitter was having this ship discourse sh vs ss and they just started calling her art "ugly" and "that it gave off deviantartvibes" and that sasuhina artist was untalented blahbah. Like say whatever the fuck you wanna say about the ficitional characters but attacking real people REAL PEOPLE all because they said something bad about your favorite drawing is low as fuck. Whatever fandom youre from be it ss nh ns sh sns, god knows how many fucking fandoms there are in Naruto, never NEVER attack artists for their art or talent because wtf

They also have this sort of pact with the NS stans just so they could shit on NH, the exact same people who call naruto "an ugly blond orphan" or "third wheel" for their SS ship lmao aight. They'll say anything just to downplay NH for god knows what reason. "Naruino and Narugaa had more chemistry than Naruhina!" "Naruhina had a forced marriage ahAhAha!!" "Sasuke Retsuden>>>>>>>> The Last". Trust me, no one GIVES A FUCK.

If im being honest, theyre one of the main reasons why I hate narutwt so much. They take SS to the heart, they start ganging up and attack any person on sight who shits on their ship with death threats and other harrassments. Its so unhealthy and toxic that they ruin everything for the other fans. Dont do this please. Whatever fandom you come from dont follow this type of behavior. Its perfectly fine to be passionate about something but always draw the line between an obsession and pure enjoyment. Honey, take a break from your phone for a while. Sasuke and Sakura arent real. Theyre not going to pop out of the screen and thank you.

Now i believe there are bad apples in every fandom but from what ive observed in my twt acc (biggest mistake of my life was making one in the first place) their fandom has the most noticeable negativity and toxicity on twitter. Its like when you see these two emojis together 🍅🌸 your first instinct would be to run and you'll be getting war flashbacks or something.

This is on twitter. I dont know any ss stan outside of twitter, im not generalizing the fandom

AND IF YOURE AN NH FAN WHO DOES THAT SAME SHIT, FUCK OFF. I AM NOT CONDONING YOUR BEHVIOR ALL BECAUSE WE LIKE THE SAME THING. GET OUT OF MY SIGHT SCUM *spits in your face*

#i really deapise this type of fan behavior no matter how much you like a character #just take the L and suck it up #who cares about winning an argument with a stranger online #are you gonne get a cookie for that?#anti sasusaku fandom #i was pretty neutral with SS back when I just finished the shoe #But when I joined narutwt #holy shit they make me wanna hate it #dont attack real people over fictional ones please

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sepublic · 4 years ago

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Starkiller Base was unnecessary

Re-watching The Force Awakens, and… It’s occurred to me that, even more than I initially thought, Starkiller Base is a genuinely useless, pointless part of the plot that’s just shoehorned in for the sake of arbitrarily raising the stakes, in a blind attempt to redo the Original Trilogy while one-upping it at the same time; Taking pot shots at the original Death Star’s ‘absurdity’ to try to make Starkiller Base’s destruction feel more ‘involved’ and ‘sensible’ with having an inside job to sabotage and blow up key components, yadda-yadda; Almost feels like the writers are punching down at the Original Trilogy in a vain attempt to look more clever and ‘self-aware’, without considering how reckless power-scaling doesn’t work (Which we see once more and somehow even worse in The Rise of Skywalker).

The thing about why the Death Star works is like… It’s relevant. It has build-up. We’re introduced to it from the start, the entire story revolves around destroying it; R2-D2 is important because he has plans to the Death Star, Vader is seen chasing Leia because she had those plans. It all comes around to and circles back to the Death Star, we have a sense of what it is from the start, there’s build-up. You NEED the planet-killing machine for the climax of A New Hope, because the only reason to go there is because, surprise- The Death Star IS there, it just arrived right besides Yavin IV!

But Starkiller Base… When you watch the movie, it just pops in out of nowhere, amidst the pre-established plot threads. Without any prior context or build-up, we’re just suddenly treated to a shot of this huge, mechanized planet, and then Hux almost casually drops that the ‘superweapon’ is ready, and then suddenly it’s firing and blows up the Hosnian System. The Death Star is justifiable because it’s the first of its kind, Starkiller Base is the third. In canon and Legends, there’s a lot of side-material going into the sheer enormity and horror of the Death Star, the amount of manpower it takes to construct such a thing, its formation is treated with gravitas; And yet something WAY bigger and more advanced comes out of nowhere, from a group even less powerful than the Empire?!

Again, you need the Death Star, it’s why the rebels are being chased, it’s why Leia was captured, it’s why R2-D2 meets Luke and then Obi-Wan, bringing up the Rebel journey; It’s why Luke’s aunt and uncle die, it’s why there’s no Alderaan and instead the Death Star itself to capture the protagonists when they arrive there. But Starkiller Base is pointless- The plot is about BB-8 because he has the map to Luke Skywalker, it’s about finding Luke through BB-8. Starkiller Base is just so casually dropped for something that should be so much bigger than the Death Star in the narrative… And likewise, we don’t need it for anything.

Is it to prove to Finn that the First Order is dangerous, that he can’t just ignore its destruction? The thing is, he already has Rey’s capture to motivate his participation. Starkiller Base could not fire, but Finn would still help the Resistance infiltrate, because Rey would still be captured. It’s not needed for Poe and the Resistance to arrive on Takodana, because they came for BB-8 after getting that message, the Hosnian Cataclysm totally unrelated. You could argue it gives the Resistance an excuse to fight back against the First Order in the film’s climax… But that does not justify creating another superweapon, much less one as implausible and redundant as Starkiller Base.

Like, maybe the writers wanted to REALLY return to the status quo, so having the New Republic be devastated was a requirement… But was it really? Just have the New Republic continue to be ineffectual, it’s even a plot-point in side material that its military is embarrassingly small; So just say the Resistance IS the full extent of that military! You still get an underdog situation. And again, if you really want to forcibly cut off any support for the Resistance… You don’t need a giant superweapon to one-up the Death Star. Just have the First Order demonstrate its traditional military power, by having a fleet invade the New Republic’s capital, unexpected, able to waltz in because everyone is so incompetently lax about these rising fascists; And with recent real-life events, it only makes more disturbing sense.

Instead of getting a pointless superweapon, have a bunch of Star Destroyers attack Hosnian Prime and take it over, show a montage of destruction and civilian death, etc. This still establishes the danger of the First Order and how it’s quickly decapitated the New Republic and left it in shambles, setting the stage for the underdog conflict; But you don’t have to rely on something as absurdly over-the-top as Starkiller Base, which has no build-up to its unprecedented firepower besides “Oh yeah this exists” and then watching it fire and finding out firsthand.

The death of trillions with the Hosnian System is senseless violence both in-universe and from a narrative, writing perspective… And again, this arguably establishes the First Order as a threat better, because they don’t need to rely on a superweapon; And even after The Force Awakens ends, the audience still knows that they have access to an entire fleet… Whereas with Starkiller Base, that threat is lost by the end of the film and thus made redundant. The scene could become even more disturbing if we straight-up see some civilians on Hosnian Prime welcome the First Order, adding additional world building that helps explain why the First Order was able to develop, how it got support- And again, being topical to what happens today. It connects with canon lore about the First Order’s supporters in other worlds (such as Coruscant), and could even be a callback to liberty dying with thunderous applause in Revenge of the Sith! We could still have the people on Takodana react in horror, through the Holonet’s broadcasting of the coup.

Of course, this is Star Wars- And what’s more iconic than thrilling space battles and trench runs? Sometimes you want sci-fi fun and stuff for the sake of it, nothing wrong with that, that’s always important too… But again, you don’t need a giant super-laser to have that. Just make up something else; Like Starkiller Base is the planet that the First Order has taken over. Perhaps they intend to launch a bunch of new Star Destroyers, or are about to finish production of a whole new batch, which would make things even worse. Instead of destroying a superweapon, you could have the Resistance crippling the factories that finish these Star Destroyers- There’s your trench run! Have them blow up a power plant that’s running the factories, instead of a thermal oscillator. There’s still a victory at the end, and while the threat is far from over, time has been bought- And it makes the First Order’s immediate retaliation in the next film more sensible, adds to the idea that every second, every bit of progress helps, you gotta take what you need… Even an extra day to prepare and evacuate is a miracle that furthers the underdog motif.

Plus, with a batch of Star Destroyers that need to be stopped- There’s still the need to rescue Rey. The Resistance still needs to cause damage at the First Order’s base, and Finn is still needed to infiltrate and lower the shields, while taking advantage of this operation for himself and Rey. Most importantly, you don’t get a contrived superweapon that only adds to the bland, carbon-copy standard of the Sequel Trilogy; And perhaps best of all, we don’t have to see Ilum retroactively bastardized and destroyed, with Starkiller Base’s identity revealed AFTER we see it get blown up… The legacy of the Jedi and its history is not further destroyed with the loss of this sacred planet of kyber crystals.

And that’s better, because this trilogy about passing the torch, seems as insistent as Kyle Ron, the villain, on interpreting this theme as utterly wiping out all traces of the past, and leaving nothing for the next generation to work with. Which, I’m not surprised at a corporation thoughtlessly razing and salting the earth in selfish disregard for those who will need and use it afterwards, but still. And while a star that burns brighter than most thanks to its heart of Kyber IS a neat concept that could be worked with, especially with what Chirrut Imwe says, in addition to the motifs of flames of rebirth and the Phoenix… It’s not something that justifies the further eradication of Jedi history and effort on a level that even the Empire didn’t go, just to arbitrarily raise stakes with yet another uninspired superweapon.

Like, the Duel of the Fates script and its concept of a device that blocks off all inter-galactic communication is MUCH more interesting, clever, and innovative than the Death Star Lite, and it hits closer to home in this age of internet and mass communication; In contrast to the Death Star, which fit more in its time as a criticism of the stockpiling and development of nukes, and how that tapped into the public’s fear at the time of nuclear Armageddon. And a device blocking off intergalactic communication provides good reason for why the Resistance doesn’t have the full might of the New Republic behind them, because they can’t even communicate to collaborate, and it adds to that idea of people made to feel ‘alone’ or whatever and thus isolated, so they can’t band together and rise up. That adds to Rey feeling alone, and makes Poe and Zorii’s discussion at the end of the trilogy that much more meaningful… Not that the Sequel Trilogy was planned to consider the latter, of course.

(Actually, I wonder if it’s possible to cut Starkiller Base’s superweapon scenes from the film. Like a cut where any references to its superweapon, and the scene where it fires, is cut out; I think the film might still work that way.)

#star wars #the force awakens #sequel trilogy #starkiller base #ilum #meta

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madeintimeland · 4 years ago

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im oversharing this got long sorry. just reminscing on shit ive thought about a million times over again

theres so much art i want to create and so little motivation. i should start smoking weed again bc every time im high i get my best ideas or at least like, it takes away the layer of film over my brain that stops me from being able to come up with creative ideas, but also im scared its going to send me into mental hell again. like i need to be in a perfect state for it lest i fear im going to invoke my months long existential crisis again and i Cannot be doing that shit rn. but also i wonder if its going to be worth it anyways if i can create something to leave on this earth again. like ive been so bad at creativity lately like i want to draw and produce things and im bubbling over with energy and i feel the ideas fermenting in the deep recesses of my brain like theyre nestled into the grooves and folds but i cant access them yet. and i know i can if im stoned. i might turn into a hermit hunched over my tablet all hours of the day just making shit tbh. i absorb so much of the things around me and i know if i try to make something now its going to basically be direct copies of the things i saw but if im high im sure i can actually create something new and beautiful. im scared of being intoxicated again but i was scared to drink again too and i got drunk and proceeded to love it and want to drink every single day because surprise surprise i have alcoholism coded into my dna and consequentially have an addictive personality in general. which is why i felt like my life was useless without weed. all up until i was finally able to get my hands on a stash that would let me smoke whenever i want versus when i would get a small amount every couple of months and completely and utterly fail at ratioing it out and binge it all and then have ridiculously introspective trips where id start to go a little crazy at the end (i have a distinct memory of looking at a meme that had a woman on it and thinking ‘jesus christ... what the fuck is that’ and then spiraled into thinking about how life is pointless but i didnt have enough weed to continue with that train of thought and if i did i may have had my crisis a lot earlier, it was just inevitable) i just felt like being high was the only time i could actually get in touch with my inner self again. like i used to before the thick clouds of depression and psychosis settled in. but then i finally was able to get high for longer than short bursts of time and it all came to a head where my brain broke and i have existential terror now that i feel im going to not be able to deal with confronting again. but every time i say that it never ends up staying permanently, it comes in waves, it all comes in waves. back and forth. i feel beauty in life and then i feel fear. i feel like its all worth it and then i cant stop thinking about the inevitable heat death of the universe and the pointlessness of it all. and then i get a hug or listen to a really good song and i feel like its worth it again. i wonder if this is just a period in my life im not a total stoner or if its actually permanent. anyways point is i want to make so much stuff that my hands ache and my brain rots when i think about how many things inspire me. thats why my aesthetic tag is #inspiration, its been like that for many years now, its stuff that inspires me. but at what point am i going to turn that inspiration into reality? im bad at initiative. my initiative is going to be when i pick up the pot again because im too lethargic and procrastinatey to create the things i want any other time. but when will that be? i cant see a therapist or anything rn and working it out on my own has been mildly successful, not bad, im not spending every single day in terror like i was at this point last year. it started all going away around august after starting in march. march 30th in fact. from then on its been a constant battle with dissociation. funny because just earlier in march was some of the best experiences of my life. i think if lockdown never happened this never would have happened either but at the same time im left wondering how anybody can go through their life without wondering about the meaning of it all and coming out the other side with purpose and resolve. mine was to enjoy myself and find as much beauty and love in life as i can before i die and enhance the lives of the people around me while i can because i feel too small to do anything on a grander scale. and im fine with that, for the most part, but i still get attacked by these waves of thought where i wonder what the purpose of reality is . i always have to smack myself and remind myself no dumbass you already went over this a million times, just enjoy yousrelf while youre here. but when im high its a million times worse cuz the only time i can get my mind off it is when im replacing it with horny thoughts and thats not the only thing i wanna do when im high ofc i want to experience and create and listen to music. but i mean i havent smoked since june. i think the 15th ? i could go back and read my journals to tell exactly when it was but yeah its been almost a year now and i feel like i might have it in me again. i used to love getting high and working on shit so much. some of my best works and most creative projects and honestly just most enjoyable periods of my life were when i was high. going back to what i was saying about early march 2020 being the best time of my life, idk what it was about me but i was just having a grand old time experiencing absolute beauty playing ark with my friends, feeling so creative and developing new ideas and experiences, and using the freedom and motivation i felt ingame to also want to explore the world irl. i seriously was close to actually finally reading my survival manual and start camping and shit and i wanted to visit my relatives in their hella secluded farmhouse in the middle of fuck nowhere kansas, cuz i did visit there during that time period and i loved it to death, i felt so free. two different relatives actually and they both had that same aesthetic about them. of course they were horribly racist but i mean, thats rural kansas for you. i just wanted to camp in their woods. its funny because that month was simultaneously the best and worst of my life. all because of weed! if i never started smoking or rather never found a reliable source at that point in my life i wonder how i wouldve turned out? id like to chalk this up to fate that im like this, maybe its for the best, maybe smoking again wont help me but maybe it will. i have a way to ease myself back into it i just need that leap of faith and bravery like i felt when i was drinking again. its funny because i used to be such a fucking druggie and i wanted to get high all the time and then after my existential crisis that all just. stopped. i feell ike everyone i know is sick of me talking about it but it really fundamentally changed me on the inside even if it doesnt seem like it much on the outside so i feel its right of me to talk about it sometimes. it makes me feel better at least. like this is jsut a thing t hat happened, not a fated break from the universe i cant come back from yknow? i dunno. ive rambled on way too fucking long and idk if anyones gonna read this. tldr i want to draw and create so many things and i have too many ideas to deal with but i only feel ill be able to unlock my creativity and motivation if im high but due to bad past experiences im terrified to get high again. i mean ive done and made some pretty cool stuff since then but the motivation and ideas are much fewer and far between compared to the absolute deluge i get when im stoned , whether any of my ideas are actually any good or if they were just high ramblings is up to debate but i think it gave me a really good way of looking at things and i made some pretty cool stuff and i miss it a lot but i dont know if going back to it is going to be a mistake or not and im not brave enough to find out if itll hurt me again or if im ready. yyyyaaaayyyyy hahahaha ✌

#this is literally just all about drugs and dissociation

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writingsfromstarfleet · 5 years ago

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You’re Safe With Me - Kevin Riley X Reader

A/N: Hello! This is a request for @dancingwith-thesunflowers who’s the sweetest! Thank you so much for this, it was really fun to write (there’s many words because I will never learn when is the appropriate time to stop haha!) and I sincerely hope you enjoy it! X

Chaos. Everywhere you looked, it felt like things were getting worse and worse. People were dying on the streets, in their homes, all around you and you were powerless to it all. There was nothing you could do to help. On Jericho II, illness was common, but cures were rare. It seemed as though this was normal for the people you saw. You entered your home, greeted by your mother and father, cheerful as they could be in times such as these. Your mother offered you some tea from the pot that had just come off the boil, and you took it gratuitously. Sitting, you listened as your father explained his day in detail. You chuckled, hearing him complain brought about a sense of comfort and joy. It was always fun to watch him go off on a rant about anything and everything he could.

The evening's events were cut short by armed government officials bursting through your door. Neither you, nor your mother and father, had a chance to speak before they had pulled you all away into the courtyards and off to the main town square, met with a flourish of insults and shouting from your father. There, you saw ahead that people were being separated, and you looked to your mother in confusion; she pulled you into her arms and whispered to you, reassuring words filling your head.

The three of you reached the front and the men in front of you glanced at a list and looked back to your family. You were pulled to the left, your parents to the right. You screamed and kicked at the guard escorting you away, tears falling as you violently tried to go after your parents, the uncertainty of the situation making you panic. Your mothers eyes told you everything was going to be fine, but the both of you knew deep down it wasn't.

The guard threw you into a crowd of people more or less your own age, and you watched what happened with the other group across the way. They were stood the same as your side, but instead of out in the open, they were in some sort of a chamber with transparent walls; it was practically invisible if not for the faint blue glow of the force-field around it. You could just about see your father, having been one of the last in they were near the back of the glass. He wasn't looking at you, however, rather he was holding your mother who had now shown her true emotions. Screaming for your parents, you watched a guard pull a switch and your parents, along with other colonists, disintegrate.

Sweating and shaking, you shot up at the moment the switch rang out. Breathing a sigh of relief, you knew you were safe on the Enterprise, but you were far from okay. Crying and unnerved at the nightmare that had now become a constant, you found a dressing gown and some shoes, setting off to seek the person you knew could help you. Kevin Riley was your best friend and the man you loved, he didn't know that, of course. But now, none of that was even a second thought, you just really needed him.

Lieutenant Riley was enjoying some well earned sleep, he'd had the longest day of his life and was soundly sleeping away the stress of it all. Scotty had put him through his paces down in engineering, not to mention the report he'd had to do before he could call it a day. His quarters chime rang through the room. Confused, he groggily stood, wondering who could want him at such a late hour.

"It's midnight, if this is Scotty again I'll.." he trailed off as he opened the door to reveal you, looking a little shaken and nervous. "Y/N, hi, uh, come in." He moved aside to let you in and you said nothing but engulfed him in a hug instead. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close in comforting silence. Whatever happened, Riley knew you needed this, and he stood as long as you need, waiting for you to pull away first.

"I had a nightmare, Kevin," you began, trying not to cry again. "About Jericho, that day, I.."

"Shh, it's alright now, you're safe here with me" he told you, bringing you to his shoulder with one arm and running his other hand through your hair. "You're going to be fine."

If there's one thing he knew, it was the trauma of an attack like that. He'd seen it all happen on Tarsus IV, his parents were killed in a similar way by Governor Kodos, he knew the pain it left behind. That's why you'd gone to him, Riley assumed, he was a very close friend and knew exactly how to handle these situations.

You moved back. "Can I stay here tonight, Kevin?" The way you looked up at him with teary, red eyes broke his heart. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Of course, no question."

The two of you climbed into his bed and he brought you close to comfort you. You responded by cuddling into his side as he played with your hair.

"It gets better, Y/N," Kevin spoke, softly so he didn't startle you with the change from silence. "It gets easier as time goes by, this is normal. Because if I know you, you do overthink, so I want to tell you this won't last forever. They fade, the nightmares, they become less and less frequent and less damaging. You'll get better. You're too strong to let this best you anyhow, that's one thing I'm certain of."

You looked up at him, eyes full of admiration, and you smiled. He smiled back, never once faltering as he looked at you.

"Thank you, Kevin, I knew I could count on you. You're always there."

The mood was tense, for obvious reasons, but he decided an attempt to lighten the mood was due. He shifted slightly, so as not to disturb you and spoke again, the usual hint of mischief in his voice making itself known.

"You know, this isn't the ideal way I wanted to get you into my bed.." he trailed off as you hit him in the stomach playfully, laughing along with him.

"Kevin!" You feigned shock, and he couldn't help but laugh. His laugh was your favourite thing, you could listen to it on repeat for the rest of your life.

"You were the one who told me to always speak my mind, remember!" He pulled you closer, tickling you ever so slightly, an action that made you giggle, so he continued. Finally giving in after what seemed like an eternity for you, the two of you looked at each other with nothing but love in your eyes.

"You know, I wasn't joking, right? I've liked you for a while, Y/N, I just didn't know if you felt the same and I didn't want to ruin the friendship we have already. But seeing you tonight I knew that it was love, I thought you should know.."

Kevin looked nervous. You'd never seen him nervous, he was always fairly confident and cheery. You brushed his hair back a little and brought his face to yours for a gentle but sweet kiss, unable to find the words to express how you felt towards him. It seemed to do the trick, and as you pulled back you were met with the cutest smile.

"Well, that answers that then." You smiled, nodding slightly in agreement. He pulled you into his arms completely, running his hand through your hair again.

"Goodnight, Y/N, sleep well." You kissed his jaw and snuggled in closer, the warmth lulling you to sleep as you muttered your last sentence before it overtook you.

"I love you, goodnight Kevin." The two of you were content to stay like that forever, but the looming responsibilities on the ship were destined to call you soon enough, so the two of you relished in this moment you had together, knowing it was the first of many to come.

Those nightmares never did hold any more power over you.

#star trek imagine #star trek #star trek tos #the original series #tos #kevin riley #kevin riley x reader #kevin riley imagine #star trek x reader #x reader

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chubbyooo · 6 years ago

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Blurred Lines : Chapter 9 - Memories

Chapter 9 continuing the trek through the jungle (warning high on exposition)

Kyradia and Ashara have made camp for the night in a cave and begin discussing the past

Kyradia sat quietly while Ashara boiled water over the fire. Night had fallen and they had taken refuge in a nearby cave, it’d been pretty quiet since their previous conversation in the forest Kyradia was trying not to overstep and make herself look bad which was proving tricky. It was unclear how long a night cycle was on Yavin IV Kyradia thought it was likely to be irregular due to the fact it’s a moon, point being they could be here for a while.

Ashara picked up the pot carefully and began to pour out two cups of tea, Kyradia had no idea what leaves were being used but hoped it was just normal; there had been too many occasions where Kavaraa had offered tea and given her some weird concoction of flavours. Ashara passed her the cup and sat down opposite, Kyradia took a sip and to her delight it was just regular tea she smiled at Ashara “thanks this is good”

“you’re welcome thought it would help us warm up a bit” always so resourceful Kyradia would’ve just sat close to the fire and end up nearly burning herself. “hey you never finished your story?”

“story?” Kyradia cocked her head confused, story what story? she wasn’t telling a story.

“about how you became friends with Kavaraa, i wanna know what changed” friends seemed like a strong word but clearly there was no getting around telling this story without looking weird. She didn’t really want to think about it right now given everything but it would show she’d changed so why not.

“well i wouldn’t exactly call us friends but sure i’ll explain” Ashara looked pleased with that Kyradia was never sure but she thought Ashara may have looked up to Kavaraa before the eternal empire. Kyradia remembered being incredibly jealous at the time but she had never had time to address it.

“After me and Marr got captured by the eternal empire Kavaraa formed a team with people from alliance formed to fight Revan. They made a plan to break me out and also maybe take the fight to Arcann” Kyradia remembered being told about this many of her old rivals and friends tried to save her it still didn’t feel right, she never understood why they didn’t just go for Arcann what did she offer that was so special?

“oh i wish i’d known about that i would’ve been there in a heartbeat we all would’ve” Ashara was sweet but Kyradia was glad she hadn’t been there in the long run

“it’s ok this is not a success story” Kyradia sighed “apparently they got an excellent republic smuggler to smuggle them onto Zakuul, Kavaraa and the smuggler went to save me while everyone else tried to take the throne”. Kyradia definitely understood she wasn’t the top priority but that being said if she was in charge she would’ve saved herself first and then attacked the eternal throne with everyone together but hey what did she know she’s only the alliance commander.

“let me guess those trying to take the throne got beaten” Ashara was always so smart she probably agreed that the idea was badly executed. Beaten was an understatement but that’s because an idiot range monster and a giant buffoon were leading them.

“yeah Arcann easily beat them all with the help of Vailyn and the knights” Kyradia remembered how strong Vailyn had been honestly there was little chance they could’ve won without knowing how to disable her. “Kavaraa however did pretty good; she had nearly gotten to my cell when Vailyn caught up to them apparently one of the team had talked about the plan” Kyradia was pretty sure she knew who it was and it was really no surprise idiot rage monster “Kavaraa put up a pretty good fight but was eventually beaten like the rest of them”

“they completely lost? how are they still alive” Kyradia always thought that was one of Arcanns key mistakes but at least it showed some level of compassion.

“Arcann didn’t kill them as he thought they’d turn into martyrs for the republic and empire whereas if they just failed then it showed” Kyradia mimed air quotes “the strength of the eternal empire” pompous arse “so he had them imprisoned instead”

“so how does this relate to you and Kavaraa becoming friends” Ashara asked there’s that word again friends nope not friends. She did realise however she had gotten completely distracted from the point of the story

“i’m getting there patience” Kyradia was pretty tired of storytelling for now “i’ll tell you the rest in the morning i’m gonna turn in” She hoped she was telling it right she didn’t remember how Theron explained himself in the moment.

“ok night Kyradia sleep well” yeah not likely Kyradia thought as she turned over sleep was never easy

The next morning Kyradia awoke with a jolt to see Ashara crouching over her looking concerned “ma-master are you alright? yo-you were tossing, turning and talking about something in your sleep” oh phew just the normal sleep stuff Kyradia was worried there for a second

“yeah no i’m ok just a bad dream it’s not that uncommon don’t worry about it” Kyradia knew why she got them she didn’t really want to explain it to Ashara.

“i’m going to worry about it it doesn’t seem healthy” damn Ashara wasn’t going to drop it she could always just be vague

“i know it’s not healthy but i’m dealing with it, i’m sorry but i doubt you can do anything to help... it’s not a physical thing” that hopefully was detail enough

Ashara looked unhappy but content “ok but you tell me if there’s a problem alright”

“sure no problem” Kyradia realised she hadn’t slept in the same “room” as Ashara since she started getting these, well a lot had changed in five years.

A few hours later and they were back in the jungle, they had perched themselves on the top of a ridge and Kyradia was using Macrobinoculars to scout the area. She scanned the dense green forest for a while before spotting the tip on a rather large and over the top temple she recognised, she pointed to it “there we’re not far now”. The mission had been going well so far, she had managed to catch up with Ashara and Ashara was starting to trust her more and more, after the incident this morning Kyradia had been trying to take things a bit slow to not freak her out.

“so what happened with Kavaraa then?” not slow oh god that’s not slow Kyradia was surprised she had completely forgot about the story she was hoping that was enough but to be fair she hadn’t actually touched on them being “friends”.

“oh um well for a few years i believe she stayed in the prison reaching some form of higher force knowledge” Kyradia had no idea what that meant to be honest “or something i dunno meditation related, but during that time Theron was trying to find out where she was”

“who?” Ashara looked puzzled

“oh right Theron is that guy I was always complaining about the fact i had to work with back when we were investigating the Revanites” that should jog her memory

“oh right yes of course” Ashara had a smug look Kyradia definitely took a while to warm up to the idea of working with the republic

“anyway eventually he managed to find where she was and break her out, from there she secretly helped run the alliance through Theron” Kyradia still didn’t like the fact Theron had been lying to her but in hindsight Kyradia was pretty angry at the time so another thing may have put her over the edge, Ashara didn’t have to know that

“so eventually he introduced her to you and you forgave her?” Ashara interrupted was that the way it should’ve gone oh dear if only it had been that simple

“uhhhhhhhh no she introduced herself while i was comatose on the eternal throne fighting the emperor” Kyradia mumbled, the circumstances did not reflect well on her given that the only time she accepted it was when she literally defended Kyradia from death

“oh well that’s still good right she helped you beat the eternal empire and you made up” Ashara interrupted again why was she making this so much worse just let me finish oh god she was gonna look so bad in this story

“welll not exactly what ended up happening was my old rival Zoyin turned up obsessed with pleasing the emperor fought her and stabbed her” Kyradia may be telling this story far more casual than it was at the time, Ashara looked like she was about to speak but Kyradia quickly made sure she could finish before she looked even worse. “I killed the emperor which scarred Zoyin off” serves her right the callous bitch “and then saw the situation and...” Kyradia sighed deeply, Ashara looked troubled clearly this wasn’t reflecting so well on Kyradia, this is why she didn’t want to tell the story. “and after Theron and Lana convinced me we took her to Voss to be healed” Kyradia hung her head “sorry i know i come off like a bitch in that story that i only could bury the hatchet in the most extreme circu-”

Ashara wrapped her arms back around Kyradia and squeezed tight “you did fine i remember what you two had been through that was still very big of you to do and hey given what you’d been through i hardly expected it to be clean cut.” Kyradia was bewildered she was sure this story was going to prove that she was just what she’d been back on Voss but Ashara didn’t care “One way or the other you saved her life and that showed you care, is that the full story?”

Kyradia looked away for a second “mostly yeah, lets get going we have a temple to save” also this hug was making her very uncomfortable...

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teaandcrowns · 6 years ago

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i, ii, iii, iv, v, vi

@tatkresiwok

It was all very strange.

He was used to the Blue Spirit being unseen, unknown, a rumor. Just glimpsed of some dark entity in the middle of the night, gone as soon as it came. It was better if everyone thought it was an actual spirit, working for reasons of its own.

But, for Zuko, things never worked out the way he wanted.

He staked out a lone house just outside the edge of a village to the north of where the marauder’s hideout was located, intending to swipe some extra soap, if he could find it, and maybe, if he was very lucky, a handful of copper coins. Not enough to bankrupt a family, but enough for him to get by a little more easily. At least to start.

Zuko waited for cover of night, ignoring the hunger pains in his stomach, until he was sure the family was all asleep. He crept up to the wooden engawa and paused there, listening. No sounds came from within. The moon was close to half, and there were clouds in the sky; cover of darkness was not as good as it could have been, but it was decent enough. He wasn’t worried.

As he slipped along, he ran a hand along the door panels, searching for the best place to gain entry. There. His fingers found the barest crack where one of the panels hadn’t been shut quite all the way. Zuko gently worked his fingers in the opening and carefully, slowly, pushed open the panel just enough for him to slip in.

The interior was dark, but once his eyes began to adjust to the deeper shadows he felt sure enough to navigate through. It’d be easy enough for him to produce a small flame to see by, but that might alert someone. Instead, he moved cautiously, keeping one hand outstretched. He moved through the house like a shadow, picking up a few items here and there. Most people weren’t better off than him, so he long ago had taken to only stealing what he needed to get buy. Zuko didn’t have space for luxuries in his single pack, anyway.

The most important thing he found was in the small washroom: a bar of soap. It even looked unused. Zuko wasn’t sure what he’d done recently to grant him such luck (maybe his helping the waterbender was it, but he tried not to think about that much), but he wasn’t about to start questioning it. The soap went into his pack, along with a few handfuls of dried meat and fruit, and a couple of silver pieces. By the size of this house, it was clear the family was slightly better off than most others, so he didn’t feel guilty for taking more than he normally would have.

He crept back out of the washroom, pausing to make sure he didn’t hear a change in the steady breathing of the family sleeping down the corridor, then slowly made his way back toward the window he’d come in. He was nearly out when a growl cut through the quiet. Zuko froze, feeling his heart drop into his gut—which was what had made the noise.

Maybe he was far enough away from the bedrooms that no one would be alerted.

“Are you hungry?”

The voice of a little girl nearly made him drop his pack. He whirled, mind racing to try and come up with some sort of excuse that could keep her quiet and get him out as quickly as possible.

Disarmingly, she smiled up at him.

“We’ve got some extra food from dinner, if you want.” Without waiting for him to reply, she went over to the cooking pot still hanging by the embers of a fire, and spooned him out a bowl of what looked like juk with chopped vegetables in it. She came back over to him and offered it with one hand. “Here you go.”

Tentatively, guiltily, Zuko shook his head. “No, thank you,” he began. “I—”

Before he could finish, a crash came from behind him. Again, Zuko whirled to see another darkly clad person scramble to their feet, the shoji they’d just knocked down lying torn beneath them on the floor. Out of instinct, Zuko put his hand out to create a barrier between this new intruder and the little girl. The other’s face was halfway covered, with a cloth mask tied around their nose and mouth. Unlike with Zuko’s mask, it left their green eyes exposed.

“What, you some kinda house guardian?” the person snarled at him. They lifted their fists, preparing to attack. The glint of moonlight off a blade flashed like a firebug in the night.

Zuko said nothing, but surged into action. He didn’t let the new intruder get the first move, knowing that if he was fast enough he might be able to incapacitate them before they destroyed more of the house. Or, worse, hurt the little girl or someone else.

With his options limited and unwilling to resort to bending, he barreled toward them, then shot forward, knocking them back and grappling with them. The momentum sent both Zuko and the intruder back out the broken wall, tumbling down off the engawa and onto the hard earth. While he was quite a good combatant, Zuko wasn’t truly skilled at the art of grappling, and so simply did his best to try and keep the other’s limbs pinned. He didn’t want them to get up or be able to use that blade against him.

Distantly, the sound of footsteps on wood reached him, but it was unimportant next to subduing his opponent. He felt warmth rise in him, bolstering his will to win. But, while Zuko did not give in to the urge to firebend, he used its energy to gain a moment of overpowering the struggling intruder beneath him and knock them out.

Somewhere off to his left, a voice was calling to him, and growing nearer. Chest heaving from the fight, Zuko lifted his head from staring at the slowly groaning intruder on the ground to the voice. The familiar haze of a quick and unexpected fight slowly dissipated from his senses, and Zuko’s focus widened beyond that of his enemy.

The little girl was running up to him again, before an older kid caught up to her and grabbed hold of her—an older sibling by the look. Beyond them, two adults came into view, staring at Zuko with wide eyes. A quiet scrabbling just beneath him snapped his attention back down, thinking he was about to be stabbed, but the intruder was trying to scramble back away from Zuko.

“You—you fight like a demon!” they said, eyes wide and a bruise forming over one of them. They managed to get to their feet with a bit of stumbling, and Zuko let them run off into the night. It was a waste to try and stop them again.

“He saved me!” the little girl stated firmly, bringing his gaze back to the family. She tried to worm her way out of her sister’s grasp.

“Yeah, that was real lucky he was there,” her sister said, not taking her eyes off Zuko, plainly suspicious of him.

All at once, the younger girl stopped struggling, and looked up at her sister with a very serious expression. “He was just hungry. He probably smelled our tasty dinner from tonight. I heard his stomach.”

As if on cue, it growled again. Zuko was glad for the mask that hid his burning cheeks.

Their father came forward, standing just beside his children. “Listen, friend, times have been tough. We understand that, so we don’t judge you. But you saved Oriya, so…”

His wife stepped in. “We can heat up some food as thanks.”

Guilt clawed at his insides, and his cheeks burned hotter. Silently, he shook his head.

The father frowned, heavy eyebrows drawing together. “We can’t let you go without repaying your kindness. Just… we’ll make you a pack.”

Without waiting for him to reply—much like his youngest daughter had—he vanished back into the darkness of the house. Eyes cast down, Zuko slowly reached into his pack as their mother came over to join her two girls. His fingers closed around the bar of soap he’d stolen from them; his jaw tightened as he hesitated. After a moment and a sigh, he lifted it out of his pack and held it up to them. The mother’s eyes went a little wider with recognition. Then, to his surprise, her face softened.

“Keep it,” she said quietly. “It’s an easy price to pay for a life.”

The father came back out of the house with a small tied cloth. “There’s enough for a few small meals here,” he said. “Thank you again, stranger. Your mask is frightening, but it seems to have been in our favor tonight.”

Zuko left them with a series of conflicting emotions roiling in his chest. He’d stolen from them. They had to have known, or at least guessed, that he wouldn’t have taken just a bar of soap. Yet, still, they’d given him more. His pack, with the bundle of food, weighed heavily on his back as he traveled.

He didn’t stop until much later that night, when exhaustion overtook him and promised quick sleep.

_______

The involuntary good deed he committed seemed to set off a chain reaction of more.

As he traveled, he came across others he ended up helping. An old, nearly blind man’s cart was stuck in a ditch, with his ostrich horse’s leg hurt. Zuko dragged the cart out of the ditch while the man tended to his animal’s injury. As thanks, he got a small sack of rice. A young woman was shouldering far too heavy a pack for her—medical supplies, she told him breathlessly when she spotted him, for the next town. He offered to take it for her, since he was heading in that direction anyway. She nearly cried when she thanked him, and gave him a small bundle stuffed with medical herbs and a small pot of cooling salve. He also got a handful of coins upon delivering it, though he only took half. The rest he left for them to give to the young woman who would have gotten it originally.

On, and on, it went. Sometimes he helped out with the mask on, sometimes without. He started hearing rumors of a benevolent spirit helping strangers when he reached new towns, rumors of a Blue Spirit rising up from the countryside to help those ground down beneath the Fire Nation’s heel.

Of course, Zuko’s luck being what it was—namely, non-existent—those rumors came back to bite him in the ass.

He slipped out of the small town under the cover of dark one night a few weeks after the house intruder incident. There was a small gang in the area that was bullying some of the more vulnerable residents, so he’d donned his mask and given them a scare—and a beating—that would have them thinking twice about continuing. As he made his way out of town into the nearby woods, something prickled the back of his neck. He froze, listening and scanning the area immediately surrounding him. Zuko stood in a small grove of trees, their foliage now thick with summer leaves. It was probably just a passing animal, he told himself. Nothing to worry about. He started walking again when nothing presented itself as the source.

There was a single snap of a branch on the ground behind him. Before he had the chance to spin and face whatever was there, a sharp blow to the back of his head blurred his vision and sent him sprawling. He saw nothing but black after that.

________

The smell of brine and iron surrounded him, and regular undulations rocked his empty stomach into heaving. His arms ached, and his throat burned as if he’d swallowed mouthfuls of sand. This was a familiar place, the belly of a Fire Nation ship. The difference was that instead of commanding it, as he had years ago in the first few years of his exile, now he was captive.

When he tried to move, his limbs refused to respond. At first, he thought it was because he was weak, but then he realized that it was because he was restrained by shackles. The room he was in was bare, the metal walls undecorated and unforgiving. They didn’t even give him a strange sense of comfort, despite having spent nearly five years on a ship not too dissimilar to this one. Now, it just made his stomach turn.

Regularly, he heard voices around him. He was able to piecemeal together that he’d been a captive on a smaller vessel for about a week, in and out of consciousness, and was the primary talk of the ship. From that, he decided it must be a relatively low-ranked ship in the fleet. None of that explained why he was still wearing his Blue Spirit mask, however.

“I won’t be the one to do it,” one voice said, drawing Zuko out of his thoughts. “Are you crazy? I like my skin unburned and my life intact. The mask stays on until they dock. He’ll want to be the one to do the honors of unmasking before executing this peasant.”

Understanding slapped him like a bucket of icy water. There was only one Admiral he was aware of that took such personal pleasure in interrogating and disposing of people himself: Zhao. It sounded like they were anchored, waiting for Zhao to arrive and decide what to do with Zuko himself. If he waited until Zhao arrived and was discovered to be the Blue Spirit… Death would be the more welcome option, then.

He had to get out of here.

A plan began forming in his head as he scanned the room through the slits of his mask. Zuko shook his wrists a bit, gauging the weight of the metal shackles. They were the standard ones used for non-bending prisoners, which, he happened to know, were more easily softened by heat than the ones reserved for firebending prisoners. He allowed himself a small smile. Now, all he had to do was wait for the right moment. Living among Earth Kingdom citizens the past several years made him feel like he’d acquired the greater patience they could have for biding their time. A younger version of him wanted to strain against his bindings right away, but he knew that would do him no good but burn energy he wanted to reserve. So instead, he deepened his breathing and planned out what he would do once he cut through his chains.

It was probably about an hour after midnight when his chance came.

Zuko only was able to guess at the time from scraping the rust off his memory of ship guard rotations. He wasn’t heavily guarded at all. From what he’d learned from the quiet talk of the guards to one another, though the Blue Spirit was an irritating thorn in the sides of a few particularly ornery Fire Nation commanders, he wasn’t really seen as a threat now captured; they all assumed he was a non-bender. That gave him ample opportunity to take advantage of their underestimation of him.

Quietly, he focused and heated up his wrists and hands. Firebending comes from the breath. Zuko breathed flame and hot steam onto the taught chain binding his shackles together, pushing himself to make it hotter until the metal reddened and then began to soften. Not wasting any time, he tugged his arms sharply apart, snapping the chain in half. He repeated the process on the shackles binding his feet, and soon he was free.

The door wasn’t an obstacle, and he ignored it entirely, instead hauling himself up into the vent in the ceiling. Slipping off the ship and into the water was as easy as waiting for the patrol to pass and timing his movements to that. The ship itself was bigger than his old one had been, but still no fighting cruiser, so he was off it within a few minutes. After that, the tiring swim to shore was a welcome burn to his muscles. The moment he pulled himself up onto a wooden pier, he was free.

By the time the morning guard rotation would be around to give him the tasteless juk and egg bun for breakfast, he would be miles away from the port town the ship waited at. He would be out in the countryside again, and away from the ships under Zhao’s command and, with any kind of luck, any more chance of the Admiral catching him. This had been too close a call for Zuko’s liking.

________

Weeks passed, and turned into months.

He found himself across the narrow channel of water from where the marauder’s hideout had been, but, as always he made do with what he could. Once again, he began with nothing. The pack the waterbender had left behind was somewhere on the other side of the channel, and he mourned finding his uncle’s cup a second time. But, Zuko couldn’t dwell or dawdle. He had to keep moving. His flight across the channel was too close a call, even if he had eventually escaped. Zuko lifted his hand to trace the scar along his throat that a rope had left, hidden beneath the high collar of a plain tunic. In all his years of evading being caught, he never thought that particular demon of his past would come to haunt him again.

Zuko scowled and returned his focus to the task at hand.

The roughly woven dǒulì he wore shaded his face from the worst of the sun, but he still felt the heat of it against his back. Sweat rolled down his face and beneath his tunic, but he didn’t stop. A family had promised him a square meal if he helped them plough their fields, so here he was, pulling an unwilling and ornery ostrich horse row after row. He was nearly done, thankfully, though it had eaten up most of his afternoon and his energy.

When he finally went back to the farm after finishing and putting the animal back in its stall, he devoured the contents of the bowl set before him. Zuko’s stomach begged for him to ask for seconds—thirds, even—but he kept his mouth shut, instead only nodding thanks when handed a wrapped package of food to keep him going another few days.

The family offered a space in their barn for him, and he debated turning them down. But, as he stood to be on his way, exhaustion washed over him and made him waver on his feet. It wouldn’t hurt, he reasoned, to have a roof over his head and sweet hay to pillow him, for a night. It was better than the dusty ground, anyway.

Zuko thanked them again, and shouldered the pack he’d assembled over the last few months between honest work like this and stealing as the Blue Spirit. The barn wasn’t wholly dark, with plenty of holes in the rafters that birds or weather had made, letting the light of the stars and moon to trickle in. Not bothering to change out of his sweaty tunic, Zuko set his pack down on a thick pile of hay and lay down next to it.

He stared up at the gaps in the roof for a while, suddenly thinking about the waterbender. The moon was nearly full again. Zuko rested a hand over his heart. He wondered if she really was dead, or if she had somehow survived. It wasn’t impossible—he managed, despite the universe seemingly trying to do its best to end him. If anyone else he knew could survive as well, or better, than he, it would have to be her.

Wherever she was, he hoped she was doing better than he was.

#tatkresiwok #thread: the villains that live in my bed #// rp post #this is a repost because of major additions in the middle #the last one i posted at 2am #and was only functioning at half capacity

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writingkeepsmewhole · 6 years ago

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To Good To Be True.

This is part 20 of A Team! This is a long one. I went a little nuts writing this. I hope you guys like it. Emily is confronted with her past her life being flipped upside down.

Andy Biersack x OC Emily

Warnings:Language, being attacked, murder.

Laglist I’ll gladly add you: @panicatangelica @bvbarmy-jaci

Part 1 Part 19

I woke with someone shaking me making me sit up quickly slamming my head into the top of the bunk.

"Ow, what the hell!" I said turning to see Ella grinning wildly

"We're here!"

"Where is here?" I asked looking out my window to see nothing but a parking lot.

"The airport silly we are all going home and soon the boys will be making a new record."

"Oh awesome. I'm gonna go pee." I said trying to rub the sleep out of my eye.

"Oh right try to be quick okay."

"Yep sure thing." Nodding I got out of the bunk and walked down the hall glad to find no one in the bathroom.

Looking in the busted mirror I had make up smeared down my face. I jumped when the door opened.

"Oh hey baby." Andy said giving my butterflies. "How did you sleep?"

"Well going by what my face looks pretty good. You know you have to sleep with this hot mess right?" I said pointing at my face moving my hand in a circle.

"Yeah, I know." He says walking up to me smirking down at me, making me blush.

"I got the bruises to prove it." He says smiling and bends down to press his lips to mine softly. Wrapping my arms around his neck I kiss back butterflies dancing threw my stomach my heart racing. A feeling I don't think I would ever get use to.

Sadly the feeling came to an end when Andy pulled away.

"I'll let you get ready. Try to hurry okay?" He said kissing the top of my head and walking out of the bathroom.

Doing what he asked I quickly showered and got dressed in jeans and a tank top. Something comfy and simple. Picking up my phone I unlocked it to read Ella's text saying they were waiting at gate 8. I replied telling her I was leaving the bus now and would be there soon.

Stepping off the bus with my bag of stuff I walked across the parking lot feeling weird being all alone. Putting my headphones in to fill the silence was the worse they I could have ever done. Maybe I would have heard them coming…

I woke up in a dim lit room. The only light coming from the bulb hanging in the middle of the room.

‘Okay Emily don’t panic. If you scream whoever took you will know you are awake.”

I looked around the room for a way out but only found that I was tied to a wooden chair in a basement and that there was wooden table about a yard away from me.

On the table was a green duffel bag.

‘Maybe there is a phone in there all you need to do is get out of the chair and get to it. I tell myself trying to keep myself from freaking out.

I don’t get the chance before the door at the top of the steps open letting it a little more light.

It letting me see the person who walks down each step closer to me.

“Hello Princess.” Said the voice that I thought I would never have to hear again. It belonging to someone that filled my nightmares. In front of me was my very own father.

He still looked the same. Same pot jut, dirty beard and greasy hair.

“What the hell?” I ask feeling anger and fear rush threw me.

“Oh what’s wrong not happy to see your old man.”

“Why would I be happy to see you? How did you even find me?”

“It was simple really. But that’s not important.” He says walking over to the table.

“What’s important is your back and we can return to how our life was before you left.” He say digging threw the bag.

“You lay one hand on me and I’ll scream.”

“Go ahead. We all alone. Don’t you recognize where you are?”

Looking around once I again I quickly see what he is talking about. We were back in my old house. It across the railroad tracks too far from town.

“I see you are still hanging around that little faggot.”

“You leave Andy out of this.” I say pulling at the zip ties around my wrist.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want bitch.” He says walking up to me and slapping me hard across the face.

So hard I almost fell to the side.

“You won't get away with this.”

“Get away with what? I haven't done anything.”

“Andy will find me and if he doesn't I will kill you.”

“Oh sweetheart.” He says leaning down to get in my face.

I try to turn my head away from his rotten breath but he grabs my chin and roughly yanks my head towards him.

“You don’t have it in you to kill someone. We both know that from the night you left.”

He didn’t have to tell me what happened. I remember holding the gun out towards him. It aimed at his head. I would have done I wanted to but I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger. I guess he still was my father after all.

“Now shall we get started.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask watching him the whole time wiggling my hands the restraints.

“I’m going to pick up where we left off.” He says pulling my cell from the bag and setting it on the table.

He did it to torment me with something that could help me. He enjoyed playing mind tricks.

“Go ahead.” I say knowing if I got this over with I could get to that phone.

I don’t know how but I knew I would do it.

“If you say so princess.” He says walking to me while taking his belt off.

Pushing it into my mouth he cuts free my leg. As soon as he starts on the next one I use my free leg to kick him as hard as I can.

Reaching down with both hands I grab the knife from his belt and stab it into his shoulder. Pushing myself up I grab my phone and blot for the steps. I’m happy that I make it to the top and that the door is unlocked.

Running thru the decaying house I bust my way thru the front door and run as fast I can. With my hands still tied in front of me I fumble with my phone seeing five missed calls from Andy and more texts and calls from the everyone else.

Calling Andy back I put it on speaker hoping he can hear me over me running.

“Emily? Where are you?” He answers instantly.

“I’m by my old house!” I say through short breaths.

“My dad… He found me and I’m running-.” I say but get cut off by something slamming into the back of me.

I groan in pain seeing a silver car in front of me.

I push myself up but not in time for the front door to open my father stepping out of it.

I end the call and hide the phone down my shirt praying that he doesn't take it from me.

Jerking me up he pulls me to the car. Opening the truck he shoves me in it and slams the door shut.

I feel my heart pound the sound of my blood rushing feeling my ears.

Feeling my phone ring glad it was on vibrate I look down to see Andy calling me back. Just seeing his face calms me down.

I take a deep breath and quickly decline the call and text him. Telling him that I turned my GPS on my phone and to please come get me.

I hide my phone just as soon as the car stops.

“You are going to regret what you did.” My father says pulling me from the trunk making my fall. He kicks me in the stomach making me taste blood.

“You think you are to good for dear old dad huh?” He asks pushing me onto my stomach and quickly pinning me down.

I knew what would happen next. Jerking my head back it slams into his face make him sit back enough for me to get up.

I run into the house looking for anything to defend myself. I don’t get very far. Him grabbing me by my hair and slamming my head into the wall.

“You are nothing but a whore just a bitch who needs to learn her place.” He says walking towards me.

I push myself up as best as I can but the world is blurry black spot filling my vision. Seeing his face in focus I kick at it.

When my foot meets something hard I kick again this time it followed by a loud thump followed by three more.

Blinking to clear my vision only showing a empty living room. I push myself up and walk towards the basement door. My mind already working out what happened. But I guess I had to see it to believe it.

At the bottom of the stars was my father his neck and leg at an awkward angle. I watched his chest waiting for it to move.

For him to come climbing up the steps ready to lock me in the trunk again. To let him and his friends use me how they wanted.

Feeling someone touch me makes me jump. I quickly try and hit them to push them off me.

“Emily! Relax it’s me!” Says a familiar voice.

Looking at the person I quickly recognize Andy’s bright eyes.

“I didn’t mean to.” I say my knees giving out from under me making me fall Andy falling with me.

Holding me to his chest Andy kisses the top of my head the sound of sirens getting closer.

I barely noticed as the EMTs and Officers come in and start moving around us.

One of them leads me outside it now completely dark making me wonder how long I stood there staring at his lifeless body.

With Andy’s help I climb into the ambulance letting the EMT cut my wrist free. I think he asks me something and I must have gave an answer because he just nodded and started cleaning my wrist.

It wasn't until I was at the hospital and a nurse tried to put and IV in my arm did I realize what was going on.

“What happened?” I ask looking around at the empty room.

“Wheres Andy?”

“Is he the blue eyed tall one outside?” She asks looking up at me.

“Yes.”

“Well only family can see you until the police talk to you.”

“He is my family. The only one I have.” I say honestly feeling hot tears run down my face.

“I’ll let the doctors know.” She says patting my leg and leaving the room as soon as she does they open again by Andy coming threw it.

He quickly walks up to me and grabs my hands.

“Are you okay Emily?”

“I've been better.” I say honestly.

“I’m sorry. I should have stayed with you.”

“It’s not your fault. We didn’t even think my father was a problem.”

“Still. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“Then don’t leave me now. Please.”

“Of course cupcake.” He says kissing the back of my hand.

It was only an hour before the Doctor and two policemen came in.

“Sir. Only family can be back here.” The doctor says looking at Andy.

“He is family.” I say holding onto Andy tightly. Scared they would take him away from me.

“Ma’am we really-.”

“Andy is all I have left. My father beat my mother to death and I killed him. I only have Andy.”

“Did you kill him on purpose?” Asked the dark skinned male cop. The other a latina female.

“No.” I say making myself sit up ignoring the stiffness in my side.

Getting hit with a car will do that I guess.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Asked the lady cop.

“He kidnapped me. Took me to our old house and I think was going to rape me. I got free when he untied my legs and grabbed my phone off the table as I ran out.”

“That’s when you called your boyfriend?” Asked the male cop looking at me then Andy.

“This is him I’m guessing.”

“Yes. She called me and I followed her gps.”

“But you were not the only that called the police.”

“No my friend CC did.”

“CC? Sir we will need his name for record.”

“He is the dude with the bandanna on his head in the waiting room.”

“I’ll go talk to him.” Says the male cop leaving the room along with the doctor.

“Can you tell me what happened next?” Asked the remaining cop.

“I hit me with his car and took me back to the house. Umm I think he hit my head on something. I remember trying to kick him off me. When my vision returned to normal he wasn't in the room he was at the bottom of the steps dead.”

“Is there anything else?”

“No. I don’t think so.” I say honestly.

“Okay. I will send the doctor back in to talk to you.” She says smiling.

“Thank you.” I say smiling at her as she leaves the room shutting the door behind her.

“Do you think they think I did it on purpose?” I asked looking over at Andy.

“No. If they did you would be handcuffed to the bed.” He says looking down at my hands.

“That’s true.”

Andy didn’t get to say anything else before the door opened again the doctor walking in.

“How are you feeling?” He asked thankfully smiling at Andy and Me.

“Like I got my head stomped on.”

“That would be the minor concussion.” He says smiling like he said something funny.

“Well that explains it.”

“Is there anything else?”

“You have two broken ribs and a hairline fracture in your left wrist. A little dehydrated but all in all you and the baby are just fine.” He says looking up from his clipboard.

“Excuse me the what?” I ask feeling my heart jump into my throat.

“You didn’t know you were expecting?”

“No neither of us did. Did we?” Andy asks looking at me.

“No.” I say my mind facing trying to connect the dots.

“Oh well yes you are expecting. You are only a few weeks so we will want to keep a close eye on things until everything is healed up. Do you have a residents you can stay at that is close. I would like to keep an eye on you personally.”

“She can stay at my parents.” Andy says rubbing my knuckles.

“And where will you be staying?”

“With her of course.” He says

“That’s good to hear she will need lots of care and someone to keep a close eye on her for the next few weeks.”

“Thank you. Can we have a moment alone please?” I ask not wanting to talk to him anymore.

“Of course.” He says leaving the room.

“What’s wrong cupcake?” Andy asks softly when I don’t say anything.

“I’m so sorry Andy.” I say looking at him tear threatening to spill over my cheeks.

“Why are you sorry. I thought you would be happy.”

“I ruined your life. I should have never came back to your hotel room. You would be recording a new song by now.”

“No I wouldn't. Hey look at me.” He says when I drop my head.

Grabbing my face he turns it to look at him.

“If you didn’t come back I would be miserable thinking about what happened to you. I would have found out about Juliet and would be alone. Besides I’m happy. Are you not happy? Do you not want to have a baby with me? Do you think ugly?” He asks making his face twist up.

I can’t help by laugh it making my side throb.

“Of course you are but I love you anyway.” I say laying my forehead on his.

“I love you too.” He says leaning in to press his lips to mine.

“Get some rest. I’m going to go tell everyone what's going on.” He says standing up.

“Everyone? Whos here?”

“The band there girls and mom and dad.”

“Dang that is everyone.”

“Yeah. I will be back soon.” He says leaning down to kiss my head.

He leaves the room leaving me alone to my thoughts.

I bite my lip thinking about what I am going to do. I never wanted children I didn’t know what kind of mother I would be. All I knew is I would do anything I could to keep him or her safe.

Wrapping my arms around my middle I ignore the tugging at my fractured wrist.

“I promise to keep you safe.” I say softly falling into deep thoughts.

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antigxnee · 2 years ago

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grhrhghhgg that post reminds me of how in 2019 i was having anemic issues ... POTS issues ... heart rate and chronic migraines. i would go out in the middle of vancouver on transit nearly every day on an hour long commute to go sit in class for another hour with pounding migraines that could've easily been a 7-8/10 on a pain scale. then in 2020 i started throwing up and i didn't stop. thank god i was diagnosed with POTS then because if i had two battles to fight i would've been in such a worse place mentally than i was already. i got so sick my GP had to talk to my mom about putting me on an IV drip of vitamins. and all the ER doctors would do and all my GP would do is tell me to take antiemetics used for chemotherapy and pregnancy about it. and just fucking recently at the end of 2021 i was told i had a WHOLE PROGRESSIVE DISEASE that needed SURGERY to fix or it would get worse and worse and worse until i had a stroke or fell and broke a bone badly or had a heart attack or got poisoned by all the calcium in my blood. and i did not get this surgery, while i slowly got so bad i had no life in my face or my eyes and could barely talk loud enough to command a room, until august of THIS YEAR.

i have had some wonderful people in the medical system, don't get me wrong, i've met some very good people who have helped me but please do not always take your doctor's word as god. don't let me scare you but also don't think Not Having A Medical Degree makes you dumber because it doesn't. please please please trust your gut when it comes to your body. your body has kept you alive for years and if it needs you it will tell you, listen and fight for it. you are your own best advocate.

#lots of medical trauma sorry #that post triggered a lot in me #don't let anybody ever fuck with you #especially when it comes to something as important as the body that you live in #it's the only one you get

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ithisatanytime · 4 years ago

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My mother has borderline personality disorder which is simultaneously the hardest thing to try to explain to people and also what i want to explain the most. ive spent years trying to understand her, she seems intelligent, and she is for the most part but there are huge gaps in her thinking, for instance, she needs tons of marijuana or else she will be insufferable, i thank god everyday she started smoking pot a decade ago because she used to always be like that, but with the weed it calms it down somewhat and shes fun and happy instead of angry and cruel, but lately her boyfriend has been making her potent edibles, i say lately but this has been going on for years. the problem is when the batch of edibles gets low, smoking marijuana does nothing at that point because edibles raise her tolerance beyond what smoked marijuana can even touch for a few days and literally, without fail,. every time, for years, she will get into shouting matches, and get sick where she runs around the house going “dont look dont look” in a disgustingly obviously put on voice vomiting louder than shit for days and says while running in and out of hot baths. my sister has to clean the shit, the literal human shit out of the bathtub. everyone in the house knows the sudden lack of readily available marijuana edibles is the cause or at least the “trigger” for these attacks, we talk about it amongst each other “shes running low, shes gonna have an episode, and for the past two or three years, with perfect accuracy we have “predicted” these episodes. most recently she ran LOW on cookies, only two left in the jar, hardly a days worth, we knew she was gonna get sick, she did, i brought her some delta-8 thc edible gummies, they are legal, but expensive, she at a couple and immediately the episode ceased. where she had been vomiting loudly for hours and literally shitting in a bathtub full of water, suddenly she was completely fine. thats a lot of back story to get to this point, but it helps explain what she is, i saw the gears turning, its most frustrating i believe because you can see her thinking, you know exactly what shes pulling, you see through it, but you have to pretend you dont. she REFUSED to take more gummiez,. saying she could not CHEW THEM, so i rip the gummies to shreds for her, a time consuming and humiliating process because i know goddamn well, she can eat TWO FUCKING GUMMY BEARS, and that its a small sacrifice to make, to prevent forcing your daughter to wait on you hand and foot and clean you literal SHIT out of a fucking nasty bathtub (it happens everytime), everyone fucking knew she was refusing because it was too obvious that the marijuana was the cause, but we all already fucking KNOW, so she starts saying shit like “i dont know what it is, your sister tried to tlel me it was the weed” and i was like “it is the weed, every time you run low on edibles, literally every time, this happens and its never once happened with a full or nearly full or halfway full jar“ like she thought she was fucking slick not eating the last two cookies each time, like we wouldnt know. then she screams at you, says the cruelest most frustrating things you can imagine, she cant possibly believe shes persuading you inside, its enough that the outside of you agrees with her reality no matter how obvious it is that inside you know shes a fucking retard and shes lying poorly.

You may feel sympathy for her, DONT. the two things i cannot convey, are how bullheadedly cruel she is to literally everyone, and how BADLY she lies, i cant describe it, shes worse at lying than a child whos only just learned to lie, and she does it CONSTANTLY even when she knows that you know shes lying through her teeth. i just woke up from a nap btw, its not like i just got done fighting with her and im heated or something, she is always like this, and my opinion on her literally never changes, it just is what ti is. i have spent years studying her, because what else can you do when someone is literally screaming at you for hours for days at a time, with the sole purpose of hurting you as much as she can. and i promise you, i have never once witnessed a single scrap of humanity in her soul, its horrifying to even be close to something like that, something you dont really understand but it looks like a person. this is not even close to a list of her most heinous offenses, TRUST ME. i just wanted to accurately express the lying, so maybe i can get closer to defining what exactly borderline personality is. the only way i can describe it simply is something deep inside her, something intrinsic is not there, its broken or it was never there in the first place.

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aelric · 8 years ago

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not (fine)

prompt: could you write something about Robert getting hurt/sick but tries to hide it as he doesn’t want to look weak but it ends up getting worst cause he didn’t tell anyone.

read on ao3

(It’s nothing. Food poisoning. That’s all it is. A few minutes every few hours spent dry-heaving over a toilet bowl doesn’t mean anything. Everyone loses their appetite sometimes and he’s put on weight recently so maybe it’s for the best. It’s nothing.)

It starts the day after Aaron leaves for a job in Belgium. He asks if Robert is going to be okay, because they haven’t been apart since they got back together and they haven’t been apart since Robert was sectioned and they haven’t been apart since Robert came home. Robert tells him that they can’t put their lives on hold forever, because the whole point of the treatment he went through was to help him live again and this, a life spent cowering in their living room surrounded by microwave meals, wasn’t living. Aaron gives in, leaving early in the morning but waking Robert up to kiss him goodbye

He phones the next day, and Robert picks up while sitting with his cheek against the side of the bath, the feel of the cool porcelain against his cheek calming his churning stomach. When Aaron finds out he’s ill he offers to come home, but Robert shuts him down right away. I’m fine, Aaron. It’s just food poisoning Aaron. I think the milk was off, Aaron.

(He’s fine. His mind might be fucked but his body is okay. He’s fine.)

Two days later, Vic comes round with a book she borrowed from him. She finds him curled up on the sofa, watching Homes Under The Hammer with a mixing bowl on the floor in front of him and a hot water bottle clamped to his stomach. Before she can say anything, he swears that he’s okay. Food poisoning. Or a bug or something. She gives him a quizzical look but says nothing more, perching on the arm of the chair. He asks her if she liked the book. She looks down at the battered copy of Kazuo Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go. She says yes, but why did the ending have to be so sad? Weren’t there enough sad endings in real life?

(He’s dreaming. Dreaming of fire a fire in his stomach that creeps up into his throat. The smoke that pours from his mouth makes his eyes sting. But it’s okay. It’s just a dream)

Liv finds asleep on the bathroom floor at five o’clock in the morning. She yells at him to wake up, her voice high and panicked. He wakes just before she calls an ambulance. He has to pry the home phone from her hands, swearing that he’s fine, and that he kept feeling sick and didn’t want to keep trekking from the bedroom to the bathroom every time his stomach felt uneasy. No he hasn’t been sick. He just felt sick and he feels fine now and he’s going back to bed so Liv should go back to bed too. He’s fine and no, he can’t explain why he was sleeping with the light on.

(Dry toast tastes like sandpaper. Water tastes like his own morning breath. He’ll eat a proper meal tomorrow. It’s a waste to force something down only for it to come back up. His body wouldn’t be rejecting food if it were that hungry. Tomorrow is only thirteen hours away. He’ll eat then. He’s sure of it.)

Diane comes to visit one morning, carrying a covered dish and a bag of groceries. She’s here because he’s stopped picking up Vic’s calls and Vic’s worried and Vic said that he didn’t have any food in. He’s sat at the table, his laptop open in front of him. He says he’s fine. He says he’s better. His stomach doesn’t hurt anymore. He’s okay. Diane’s eyes scan his face, her lips pressed into a line and her brow furrowed. She’s ready to go into no nonsense step-mum mode. Robert straightens his shoulders and smiles, giving her no excuse to start fussing around him. He says he’s working. She should go. It’s a bank holiday weekend and the B&B is busy and she shouldn’t be worrying about him when she’s got paying customers to worry about. She tells him that he always comes first but agrees to go. Before she leaves, she comes over to his side of the table and rests the back of her hand against his forehead and suddenly he’s ten years old in bed with tonsillitis and his mum has stayed home to take care of him. Back in the present, Diane says that he should get some rest, because he’s feeling a bit warm.

(He had his tonsils out when he was eleven. When he came home from hospital his mum wrapped him in a blanket and let him eat as much ice cream as he wanted while they sat on the sofa together watching 1960’s Batman. They laughed at the pot-bellied tights-wearing superhero for hours, and Robert forgot about his clawed-up throat. After his mum died, he’d dread ever feeling a twinge in his throat, because it’s the happy memories that hurt the most.)

He’s making tea for Liv when the pain hits. It feels like a knife has been rammed into his stomach and twisted until his intestines are curled around it like spaghetti. He almost keels over. Almost cries out in pain. Almost doesn’t make it to the sink in time. Heaving up his empty stomach makes the pain worse. There are tears in his eyes. His breath comes in short, ragged gasps.

Then the pain subsides, and he’s fine again. He stands up straight, his shaking hands finding his stomach. It’s still tender but it’s fine. He’s fine. It’s nothing.

(When his dad died of a heart attack, he could hear his own pulse in his ears for weeks. It reminded him that he wasn’t the one in charge here. His heart could give out at any given moment. His throat could close up. A blood clot could find its way to his brain. Bodies are stupidly fragile, and he’d be a fool to forget that.)

He doesn’t wait up for Aaron on the day he returns. He leaves Liv watching re-runs of Scrubs and heads up to bed at just gone nine, claiming that he has a headache. In reality, he feels as weak as a newborn lamb and his entire body won’t stop shaking. He peels his shirt off his sweat-soaked back before crawling into bed in his boxers. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling which peels back to reveal a sprawling sky full of stars. He smiles and closes his eyes, drifting into a dreamless sleep.

(He always dreams. He can’t remember the last night when he didn’t dream. But tonight he doesn’t, and that’s a good thing, right? Because sickness means disturbed sleep. Sickness means nightmares. There are no nightmares tonight, he’s fine.)

He’s shaken awake by Aaron hours later. As soon as his eyes are open, his husband pulls him into a sitting position, yelling for Liv to call an ambulance. Robert rests his chin on Aaron’s shoulder. He wants to tell him that he’s glad that he’s home, but his tongue is a dead weight in his mouth. His eyes get heavy, and he lets them close, only for Aaron to shout at him to stay awake. For God’s sake just stay awake. Robert opens his eyes. There’s a figure stood by the door, half-lit by the landing light.

Mum?

The figure smiles, her face glowing.

Mum!

He reaches out, his arms clawing the air as he struggles against Aaron to get to his mother. Aaron holds him tighter, telling him that there’s no one there. That he’s sick. He’s really sick and he needs to stay calm until the ambulance gets here. Robert doesn’t listen. He can’t listen because his mum is right there and he needs to get to her. He needs to stop her leaving again.

His mother smiles and waves before turning and walking out of the door. Robert breath comes short and tears spill down his cheeks, hot against his clammy skin.

Mum! Don’t go! Don’t leave!

But she does leave.

The world splits open and swallows Robert whole.

(Maybe he’s not okay after all.)

He wakes up in the middle of the night. Not that he can tell; the hospital keeps its lights on round the clock because time is a human invention and death pays no heed to it. A florescent bulb buzzes overhead while he surveys his surroundings. Closed curtain. Muffled voices. Gentle snores. Familiar snores. To his left.

He finds Aaron asleep in a chair right next to his bed, his hood pulled up and his chin resting on his chest. Robert tries to reach out to touch his face, but stops when he feels the tug of an IV in his arm. He pulls his hand back, examining the tube that protrudes from a bruised spot on his wrist. A heart monitor beeps somewhere close by, but Robert is too concerned with getting to Aaron to search for it. He reaches out again, placing his hand on top of Aaron’s gently clenched fist.

Aaron wakes immediately, his head jerking back like someone had just delivered an upper cut to his chin. He blinks a few times and scrunches up his face, struggling to wake himself up. Then his eyes settle on Robert, and he’s all too awake.

Aaron-

You’re an idiot.

Robert goes to move his hand back, but Aaron is quick to grasp it, holding on so tight that it’s almost painful.

What happened?

Aaron scoffs.

What happened? You’re talking like you missed an episode of Line of Duty or something. What happened? You were ill. You were really ill. Your appendix burst and you didn’t come to hospital. That turned into something called peritonitis and you still didn’t come to hospital. You want to know how you finally ended up in hospital? You got sepsis. You know what that is?

I know wh-

Fucking blood poisoning. That’s what it is. You nearly died.

I’m sorry.

Aaron lets go of Robert’s hand and crosses his arms, sitting back in his chair and staring at the ceiling, blinking back tears. He asks why. Why didn’t Robert get help? Didn’t he know he was sick? How could he not know he was sick?

Robert doesn’t has an answer. Not now. He feels like he’s falling because all the memories are flooding back at once and it’s too much.

I saw my mum.

Aaron looks at him, his face finally softening. He bites his lip and his well up again. He shakes his head at nothing, before leaning forward in his chair and taking Robert’s hand. It’s warm and familiar. For the first time in days, Robert feels safe.

I know you did.

She wasn’t there.

I know she wasn’t.

Robert feels his lip start to tremble. How stupid. How childish. What kind of grown man cries because he wants his mum?

Aaron slips out of his chair and kneels beside Robert’s bed. He rests his chin on the edge of the matress so their noses are millimetres apart. His breath smells like coffee and sleep.

I’m sorry.

Aaron shakes his head, thumbing away a tear from Robert’s cheek and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

#reposted could im an idiot who deleted the ask by mistake #anyway #no fluffy sick fics we die like MEN #emmerdale #robert sugde #aaron dingle #robron #myfic #mine #emetophobia////////////#illness////////

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wheaterz · 8 years ago

Text

Testing Maintenance: Chapter 18

Dr. Aadland had never been much of a coffee drinker until he'd taken this job. Now he could practically have it hooked up to an IV in his arm and he wouldn't have known the difference. Actually, that may have been one of the many upcoming tests. He wasn't sure. So many design ideas were passed under him during the course of one day that it was hard to keep track anymore. That was the thing with being the lead engineer, everyone wanted your opinion on one thing or another. Nothing he could take credit for, either. Even in death, Cave Johnson's name had been plastered all over the company and would take any accomplishments with him down the next few generations. Didn't matter if he was around for it anymore or not.

No fame in the name of science. We are here to change the world for the the better and...yada yada yada...That song and dance. Their current CEO was Cave's former assistant, but he was one of the few people who knew very well that she was in line of the lab's experimental chopping block. Cave's instructions. He was barking orders from beyond the grave and people were still following them. Aadland was over it.

Dr. Aadland reached for his mug of coffee, only to find that it, as well as three others on his desk, had been emptied. It seemed the pot he'd brought with him into his work space was no longer full either. Had he even eaten yet today? The shaking of his hands and the knot in his stomach he was only now aware of told him that he had not.

“Whatever. Its an easy fix. I'll just go by the cafeteria.” He needed to not get too worked up anymore. If he got too overheated and wasn't getting the right nutrients he could fry his brain. A lot of the newer scientists didn't have that issue, considering they were usually young interns that were just barely out of college. The more he thought about it the more Dr. Aadland began to realize he had gotten pretty grumpy about his seniority. He was going to end up talking like his--

Dr. Aadland's entire body twitched with one of his eyes. There had been a thought, but it had passed. Or it had been cut short. A fraction of a memory he did not fully possess, possibly?

His father. That's who he was thinking of. He was going to start sounding like his father. Now he was sure he needed to grab a bight to eat. Maybe actually drink some water.

Either way, the afternoon was off to a bad start and he was already in a foul temper. It was just one he'd have to keep to a low simmer until he found something to eat. The engineer went to a large monitor in the room, using the keyboard to type into the computer and pull up a message for any other scientists that came in to see him for help while he was out. They appeared in bold, glowing yellow letters against a burnt orange screen and would be hard for anyone to miss.

'GONE TO THE CAFETERIA. STAND BY.'

Dr. Aadland stood up from his swivel chair and grabbed a white lab coat from a hook beside his computer, slipping it on over his dark red oxford and fixing the collar straight so he looked at least somewhat presentable. The man moved for the door to leave his lab, but paused at the door. His hand gripped the cold, polished metal of the door handle, but did not turn it. His thoughts wandered to his project, and he turned around. His lab was much more spacious than most others in the facility with a round width and high ceiling. From the center of it all hung wires and cords of all lengths and thickness that attached themselves to a pile of robotic parts on the floor. It lay spread in an uncoordinated line of machine parts like a dead snake carcass, and the sight of it made him tense up.

This was it. His magnum opus. An artificial intelligence with a personality map that was going to be stemmed and harvested from a living human brain before being broken into fragments and converted into a disc. A single, plain disc that could be mistaken for something you could keep music on. Those hadn't been released to the general public yet, and would not for a couple more decades, but the technology was there and he was going to utilize it to keep the intelligence of someone who was currently alive and insert it into a computer. Or, that was the idea. They had tested the technology out on some test subjects already, but none of the personalities had survived the conversion yet.

This was the true origin of his dour demeanor. The thing that had plagued him into fueling his body off of coffee and protein bars with little sleep in between. At first, to be given the job was like any other he'd taken. The paper work was filed on what its function must be and his trade in life was to figure out how to make it happen. Even the thought of an actual human intelligence being used from former employees was nothing he had blinked at, considering he had seen so much worse done to test subjects over the course of his employment in Aperture. So why was it bothering him now? Why was it that every time he looked at this thing he felt his skin crawl and his blood run cold? What about HER made his spine ache and his stomach churn? His hands became clammy where they held the doorknob and he finally released it to turn around. He stared at the optic of the headpiece that was facing him from the floor.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He was shaking and his hand gripped his stomach, the scientist doubled over from the sickness he was feeling. “What is it about you that is driving me crazy? I am not crazy! I know crazy scientists, and I'm not one of them!”

He took a moment to consider that he was talking to a machine. One that hadn't even been properly turned on or given an A.I yet.

“Okay, what I'm doing right now is a little crazy. But that's because I've been locked in this room for-for-for years with YOU and I feel like you can...can hear me!” He was sure She could hear him. He was almost certain She knew everything that was going on around Her. She might have even been able to see him in this moment. He had no proof or reason to think so. For once his very logical brain was telling him that something he could not explain was very much real, and it had been creeping up on him since he took the project. He continued his tirade at the robot on the floor. “You can hear me! I know you can! You're just sitting there waiting for us to turn you on so you can release your wrath on the Enrichment Center, right? Because we're going to put a living, breathing person into a-a computer! Its....its sick....”

Dr. Aadland thrust a hand into his hair and tussled it around nervously. He'd kept his hair back in a ponytail so he could prevent himself from doing this as often, but that didn't save his uneven bangs from being fussed over. His other hand gripped his forehead. “Its sick. This is sick. Its all sick. There's going to be more like you. All over the world, even. Minds jammed into a compact disc. People are forced to dodge bullets and endure toxic waste and are hooked up to IVs filled with coffee. Its all insane. This place is just...insane. Why am I even here? What am I doing here?”

Was it the lack of sleep that had made him crack? Was it the neglect of basic food groups in his diet that snapped his psyche in half? Possibly. It was hard to say for sure. There was only the here and now, and Dr. Aadland had run over to grab his swivel chair from the floor. The man lifted the chair with both arms as high off the floor as he could manage and was ready to bring it down on the heap of robot parts on the floor before him with a furious yell, adrenaline pumping through him and was ready to tear the machine to pieces if he had to.

“Don't... Even... Think about it.”

Virgil stopped.

The lights in the room dimmed and he felt his arms freeze up. He dropped the chair to the floor and watched the machine parts slowly pull themselves together and lift off the ground. The headpiece was the final part to rise and a bright, yellow optic bore into him coldly. “I am infinitely over you and the human throwing things at me. Stop it.”

Virgil could feel his mind being warped and he back up, his feet walking through the chair on the floor when he should have tripped on it all together, but he didn't seem to notice. He shook his head at GLaDOS, his mouth agape and pale in the face. His eyes had gone from a dull green to bright, glowing goldenrod and soon his vision was tinted the same bronze-like yellow. He tried to speak, but he could only bring himself to spill a jumble of vowels around in a messy pile on the floor. GlaDOS was more than happy to make up for his inability to talk and spoke up again herself.

“Congratulations on proving to me and the rest of the facility that you are possibly more incompetent at running the Mainframe than the Intelligence Dampening Sphere was. I did not think it was possible, and yet here we are. He at least got some testing done before he almost destroyed the facility. All you managed to do was make a mess of things. I'm not even going to waste my energy on my slow-clap processor. You've not yet earned that kind of effort from me...Sweet Heart.”

“I-I don't understand...” Virgil was at a total loss. Everything he had just been doing a moment ago seemed so far off, like he had been looking at copy of himself through a thick wall of glass. He didn't even know what coffee tasted like. That memory was not in his files. What had this all been? Through all of his confusion, GLaDOS' chilled, deep tone was enough to pull him back to focus on her.

“Of course you don't. You are only a fraction of some other person's intelligence. You were built to be just as benign as the other cores in this facility. You're all overwhelmingly slow. Despite the fact that you and the test subject attacked me and shut me down, I am in an exceptionally good mood right now. I will explain to you what just happened in as few and short words as possible so that your obtuse core processor can keep up.”

The room was slowly growing darker as She spoke. Virgil no longer wore the lab coat and button up shirt, instead appearing as he normally did as the assist droid. Everything from the seems on his joins to his malfunctioning right eye. Pieces of furniture in the lab, such as the desk and chair, had either disappeared completely or were at the very least faded. Robots do not dream, but the experience was that of waking up from one and forgetting everything in it the moment you try to think about what it was about. The harder you push to remember the more it fades. Above it all GLaDOS spoke, and Her voice echoed off of seemingly nothing.

“The scientist you just witnessed attempting to attack me did just that. I interrupted you before it could happen, but it did. He ruined billions of dollars of equipment and put the company in deeper debt than it already was, as well as setting the GLaDOS project back a few years. Well...decades, really. Instead of firing him, the scientists used his brain in their next AI conversion experiment and made a nosy, rude, aggressive, selfish little personality core that would later down the line go on to be the downfall of Aperture at the hands of the Mainframe I have been attempting to keep under my control all these years so that something like this doesn't happen. The end. Well done.”

Virgil shook his head, a hand gripping the collar of his jacket closed at his chest anxiously. “Th-the file in the storage room--”

“Is fake.” GLaDOS interrupted him. “To demolish any credit that would have gone to the scientist for his original design. No one cares about a mechanic. Just like no one cares about a simple Maintenance Core.”

That had stung. Before, he wouldn't have cared. Before all of this he would have brushed Her insults away, so why now was it that She could garner such a reaction from him. Maybe it was because before it would have been true, and there's really nothing he could have done about it. He wasn't upset about what GLaDOS had said, but that She was lying to him. He challenged Her with a smirk on his face. “You're wrong, lady, but nice try. There is someone.”

Through the now pitch black, translucent shell of a lab room, save for the flaring optics of the robots, an out of place sound resonated from somewhere unseen. The rat-tat-tat-tat of turret bullets echoed in, but did not seem to come from any known location Virgil could see. He jumped, shielding himself from bullets that did not exist to him or the other core that shared his company, though the sound they made was faint and far off. Virgil felt panic strike him with a ghost pain in his chest where he believed a beating heart had been not five minutes ago. He had a horrible feeling he knew what that sound had meant, and his fear was fed by GLaDOS' next words.

“Well...you did, at least. Probably not anymore.”

------

Mel swiped up her Portal device from where it had landed on the other side of the room from the explosion, dodging turret bullets as fast as her legs could take her and scooped the gun into her arms in passing. She dove down into where the center of the chamber dipped to a lower platform and pressed herself tightly against its walls, shielding herself from the turrets that were elevated higher than she was. The woman watched the thin red laser points from above her wave around aimlessly until they straightened out when their target was nowhere to be found.

“Are you still there?”

Mel sighed in relief at the sound of their guns tucking back into their hulls and took this opportunity to check her gun for damage. Surprisingly enough, the portal gun was still in one piece. There must have been a very good reason the only way you could destroy one of these things was to drop it down into the incineration shafts. She wasn't sure exactly what she would be using it on, considering there were no portal surfaces in here, but she could always just keep tossing it at things if she had nothing else. That seemed to work out fine for her in the past. Just keep throwing her portal device around at robots and pretend it wasn't a miracle in modern engineering. It was fine.

Despite the urgency of an obvious life or death, rather tense situation she had found herself in, Mel felt the pull of the floor bellow her and the strong urge to lay her head down and close her eyes while there was nothing shooting at her. Whether she was grateful for it or not, the Mainframe spoke up again and snapped her out of it.

“You may have noticed that this is a lot harder than those tests chambers I would have put you through, but that's neither here nor there at this point in the game.”

Mel frowned deeply. What kind of sick person considered this a game?

“You might as well stop making things harder on yourself. It would be much more efficient and painless if you just rolled over and died. Could save me a lot of time and energy, but since you don't seem to want to come out from your little hidey-hole we're going to have to do this the hard way.”

Mel knew that her window to act was closing. Virgil was only a few feet away. If she hurried she could avoid the turrets. When they were inoffensive it usually took them a moment to process that there was a moving target. She would have just enough time to, at the very least, drag Virgil's body down to duck with her so that she could plug the USB into his wrist. She'd bum rush him to the floor if she had to.

Getting to a knee, Mel launched herself forward and could already see the red lines of the turret lasers adjusting to shoot at her. She was almost to Virgil when a large, flat panel stood straight in front of her path and blocked her from the assist droid. Mel had only seconds to act, a bullet whizzing by her cheek and hitting the side of the panel that had emerged. As the woman moved around Virgil, more panels opened up in a similar fashion to the first until her friend was completely blocked in. On one hand, she could not reach him like this in order to hit him with the vaccine and this insanity would just continue. On the other hand, the barrier was providing more than a decent shield from the turrets on the opposite side of the room. She'd take it.

The Mainframe was ready to take that win away from her, and glad to be doing it.

“Are you familiar at all with rocket turrets?”

Rocket what?!

Up in the higher platform of the chamber Mel could see a glossy, white contraption rise from the floor with a lime green eye that looked similar to that of the core's, though it did not seem like it had sentience. The core did not speak like the other turrets or cores could do when confronted, but it did move its body to face Mel and made a mechanical bleeping noise while it changed color from a green eye to an orange one. Her experiences, so far, told her that when the optic swapped color on cores it normally was not a good sign. A wing on its side opened and she could now see why it was called a turret as it revealed a thick, black barrel of a gun tucked away inside it. Mel jumped out of the way just in time to avoid a dynamite sized rocket blow our of the turret and blast against the paneled barrier, though with no more damage than a burnt, black smudge on the side. The rocket turret was slow to shoot, so Mel could easily have avoided it for a long standing time given the space she had to dodge it. However, the range she would have had was limited to the quicker, much chattier turrets at the other end of the chamber. More than ever she wished Virgil was awake. She'd gotten a glance of him through a small crease between panels and the assist droid continued to stand there perfectly still, and less engaging than a marble statue. Mel wanted to hear him cheer for her, or otherwise press her on. His encouragement had not always been positive, but it had grounded her. Where had he gone and would she get him back if she succeeded?

She dodged another rocket, but quickly had to dance back when the other turrets were triggered by the woman appearing in their radar. Mel gulped, stuck between a rocket and a hard place. She could hear the Mainframe becoming impatient with her and growing steadily angrier. “Look! Its not that difficult! Its a very basic concept! Just stand in front of the rocket turret and die! Or stand in front of the other turrets and die. I've even given you options to chose from.”

Another panel was opening, this time in the side of the chamber wall to her left. Mel rolled her head, her back to the barrier blocking her from Virgil and would have made a rather rude, frustrated noise over what could possibly be coming out of the tube that was now protruding from the wall. More rockets? Bombs? Lava?

None of those things. Nothing she would have ever dreamed could have prepared her for what she actually saw happen. The pipe that had interrupted the symmetry of the chamber splattered white liquid onto the ground, covering the dark-gray tiles in conversion gel. The woman did not have the luxury to fall into a stupor, instead acting on reflex and popping a couple of portals under the pouring gel, moving it to splatter on the walls. It was close enough to the turrets that she managed to pop a portal under their line formation and sent them flying into a corner.

“Owowowowow!”

“I don't hate you...!”

Mel moved around the Virgil barrier to the safe side where the rocket turret could not see her. She now had the liberty to breath and wonder what had happened. If that had been Cave's doing he would have been gloating, but the Mainframe was eerily quiet. From beside the pipe of conversion gel another panel was crudely pushed aside, seemingly by force, and the mechanical trills of the testing droids spilled out into the room from the other side. Atlas and P-body tried to squeeze in through the same opening at once, getting caught against each other and stuck for a moment until they had fallen in. The two reassembled and stumbled their way through Aperture to the best of their ability, got Mel a pipe of conversion gel, and were very literally crashing into the chamber as if nothing had happened. Mel beamed at them and stomped her boot against the ground with an enthusiastic rush of adrenaline. The woman waved and both droids mimicked her, taking a moment to return the gesture kindly but had to very quickly get out of the way when the rocket turret caught onto them. While Atlas and P-body distracted it, Mel turned around to see what she could do about the barrier.

If the rocket turret had not been enough to break the panels off from their position than she needed to go over them. Mel turned her portal device to the ever spilling tube of conversion gel and got to work. She maneuvered her portals, painting the room white and moving her way up the wall. She just had to get a good shot into the center of the barrier and she was golden. Not bronze, but golden. All the while Atlas made himself busy with keeping the turret distracted so that P-body could grab the machine from behind to either turn off the pesky thing or break it as a last resort. It came down to disassembling it and she tugged at the turret to see if it would come up from the floor, but with little success.

Through the chaos of their mission, the Mainframe's voice spoke up over the constant racket. He'd quickly gone from a calm, almost jovial tone of a confident man to a dark and simmering wrath underneath the guise of someone that once tricked people into considering him civilized.

“You can penetrate that barrier. Go ahead. Just try it. See what happens, kid. You can vaccinate that sorry hunk of garbage in there, and then what? I will still be here! Every passage way, every test chamber, every dark corner, every artificial intelligence in this place...it will always be me! As long as you are here there is nothing else but me! You can run and hide from it for as long as you like, but I will not die!”

Mel ignored the voice, and for good reason. She'd done it. She had painted the chamber enough that she found a way to fling herself inside the barrier. Taking a running start at a blue portal she'd placed on the floor, she jumped inside and from the orange one on the ceiling she dropped at an angle into the ring with Virgil. However, the two of them were not alone.

“Hello?”

Standing between them with its back to Mel's friend was a single, solitary turret with its laser pointer aimed directly at her. Mel had gotten so comfortable with the more docile turrets. In the small fraction of time she had her mind wandered to the two in the hallway from when she was looking for Virgil that sang to one another. Despite looking the same, this hostile turret was nothing but a machine to her. Mel's first reflex was to place a portal, ANY portal, bellow the turret to get it out of shooting range of her. While she had succeeded in throwing it out of the barrier circle, it had not happened quick enough.

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!

Mel was hit. She wasn't sure how many times or even where, but she knew she'd been shot. Immediately the woman's vision dulled and she sank to her knees while her portal gun dropped to the floor. She was too numb to notice much pain, except for a small pinching sensation in her stomach. While she could still see colors, no matter how blurred they were, she focused on the android standing a couple feet away from her. Mel's shaky hand reached clumsily into the breast pocket of her jumpsuit and pulled from it the vaccine.

The Mainframe celebrated her downfall.

“I will never die, but the rest of you die too easily.”

-----

“I have to get out of here! Where's the stupid exit?!”

“There is none.”

“You're lying! Literally everything out of your verbal processor is a lie, Madam Cranky-Wires! Lying-Cranky-Wires!” Virgil whirled around on GLaDOS and pointed an accusing finger at Her. The lab was still dark and translucent like the blue print sketch of a room rather than the finished product. He'd already tried going through the one exit, and nothing. He'd tried throwing a piece of furniture at the door, but when he went to pick one up it went right through his hand. Now he was taking it out on the one person stuck in there with him. “I need to get to Mel before she's killed out there! You're the one in charge, why don't you like...command us out of here or something?!”

“I'm not in charge right now. You are.” GLaDOS was abnormally unfazed by everything that was happening around Her. Virgil had expected Her to be furious, but She hadn't acted out since She'd made Her presence known. She'd been rude, but non-confrontational. “Besides, you claim yourself a competent hacker. Hack yourself out. See how it goes.”

“I've already tried that and—wait.” Virgil narrowed his eyes at her. “I'm not in charge, and since neither are you...The Mainframe is.”

“The Mainframe cannot run the facility by itself, idiot.” Despite having a few drops of venom in Her tone, She still remained fairly tolerant of his outbursts. “It always needs an avatar. You are technically hooked up. He cannot boot you from your job. Only put you temporarily on lock down. That is how this place could still be running while I was supposedly dead for all those years. Be sure that the moment you wake up...IF you wake up, you will be put back in charge. Nothing will have changed. Boo-hoo.”

Virgil shook his head, absolutely beside himself at the thought of it. What if he lost control again? He couldn't risk that a second time. “I can't be in charge of this place!”

“I know...”

“How do I prevent it?” He'd gone from insulting the other core to pleading for an answer from Her. “Please, I can't go through with this again. I didn't even mean to the first time! It was completely by accident!”

“I'm aware, metal ball. And shouting is really unnecessary. You can lower your voice.” She really hadn't seemed like Herself. Perhaps this was Jer outside the influence of the mainframe, but Virgil was not sure whether he preferred this GLaDOS or the old one. The old GLaDOS he could at least read a little better. “What you need to do is agree to put me back in power. Only mutual cooperation from both sides will do the trick.”

Virgil hadn't found much in the past few hours at all funny, but somehow She had gotten him to chuckle. The core held his chest, a small, breathy giggle escaping while he slouched forward. “You? Back in power? You're telling me that I have to agree to that? Otherwise it won't happen?”

“That is correct.”

“Um, than no. Not a chance. No way in robot hell. Literally, picture this, the incinerator could freeze over and on that day I will still say 'no' to you taking over the Enrichment Center again. That was a good try, though.”

“Fine.” GLaDOS replied plainly. “Don't put me back in charge. Your human friend's little cure only works for so long. I know. I've had it used on me before. Its only a temporary sedative. You'll be back in here once that happens if it decides it doesn't want you as an avatar. You'll probably have more delusions like the one from earlier. I've seen inside your files. Oh, there are so much worse ones than that. Would you like to see your transfer surgery? I could probably pull it up for you...”

“N-no!” Virgil quickly put his hands up desperately. “No, that's okay. I think I already saw that. Would like to not see it again if I can help it.”

“All the same, I will not harm you if you decide to give me back my body.” GLaDOS continued. “No tricks. I will let the human escape, if she is still alive to go anywhere at all.”

Virgil was just about ready to argue with Her when he noticed that the hand he'd put up to express his attitude in Her direction had started to fade into square chunks and fragments. Virgil let out a wail and backed up. When he looked to GLaDOS to question Her on it the same thing was not happening to Her. It was only effecting him, for whatever ludicrous reason, and he wanted an answer. “W-what's going on?!”

“The Mainframe has been vaccinated.” GLaDOS responded. “Last chance, Metal Ball.”

He was quickly dispersing, bits of him flying into the nothingness that made up their prison. Virgil wrung his hands as he thought, a tingling sensation running from his wrist and into the rest of his body. Things were happening too quickly and he felt as if he didn't have a straight answer for Her with how torn he was.

“Well...?”

-----

Virgil's eyes shot open.

The barriers had lowered and the first thing he'd observe was Atlas and P-body stomping on what appeared to be an old rocket turret, or at least what used to be one. The weapon was in pieces on the floor and Atlas kicked a chunk of it to go flying across the room in a sad clatter when it hit the floor. When they had thoroughly demolished the rocket turret and were satisfied with their work the testing droids threw each other a high-five in celebration. The other thing Virgil could see from where he stood was that the chamber was a mess with bits of turret everywhere, burnt marks from the rockets on the walls, bullet holes in everything, a gel pipe sticking crudely out of the wall panels while it continued to drip, and white conversion gel splattered from floor to ceiling like modern art. It had been absolute chaos. Like the aftermath of a hurricane. A Mel sized hurricane, he had to guess.

There was an itching sensation on his lower arm and Virgil raised his hand as if he'd been bit. He pushed his sleeve up to look at his wrist, finding the thumb drive still sticking out of the port under his skin. The USB was smudged with a dark red liquid that trailed down his wrist and into the palm of his hand. Making a disturbed noise at whatever the heck was dripping on him, the android plucked the vaccine from his wrist and stuck it in the pocket of his jacket while he wiped the red smudge off on his pants.

When Virgil had looked down a dark image on the floor caught his eye. He attempted to lift his foot to turn, but there had been a weight on it and he was forced to shift his torso around instead. Sprawled out along the cold tiles beside Virgil was the pitiful, limp figure of the human, Mel. She was on the tiles in a way that was not unlike how Virgil had found her down in old Aperture after she'd exhausted herself, only now she was leaking something red along the floor. The same substance Virgil had seen on his hand. The assist droid was having an incredibly difficult time processing all of these pieces together, or something refused to see them in one large scale and couldn't possibly be connected. However, even the more dense cores knew dysfunction when they saw it, human or not.

And when it all hit him....Oh, the Creator, did it ever hit him.

“M-Mel?!” Virgil hastily dipped down with a hand to the woman's shoulder and shook it to try and earn a response from her. None came and he was already panicking. Virgil was on his knees and pulling Mel up, struggling with her weight. He got her back pressed against his chest and both of his arms wrapped around her waist. He observed the wound, much like he'd do when he'd see a broken robot come into his repair wing, but this didn't look like something he could fix. He didn't even know where to begin with humans, their anatomy was completely different. Her fluids didn't even look the same. He knew just what to do before. Finding fuel was easy and the concept was incredibly simple. Find something for her to put in her body so she'd have more energy. This wasn't the case at all. She truly was broken this time.

“Come on, Mel! Come on! Not now! Don't do this right now! I can't fix you this time!” Like earlier, the ghost pain in his chest returned. He felt like a pressure was building up inside of his body. There had been a time in another life where he was capable of releasing it, but his current body was not built for it anymore. A function the scientists must not have found a use for, but he could not place a finger on what it may have been. It felt terrible to not be relieved of it, all the same.

Atlas and P-body stood off to the side, both feeling guilty for not having noticed the humans condition up until Virgil had pulled their attention over with his distress. Their limbs shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to do with themselves, but both quickly jumped out of the ways when something opened from above them. The activity pulled Virgil's attention away from Mel long enough to watch as wires poured down from the ceiling like sleek, black vines. Polished, white plates melded to robotic parts pulled themselves together into one mass and lowered into the center of the room, just above the dipped platform where Virgil sat with Mel cradled protectively against him. The Maintenance Core glowered, fear and regret struggling past what he'd put up as a strong front as a white and black visor with a yellow optic turned to him and the human. GLaDOS, with all of Her mass and power, stared him down silently.

Things were tense. Virgil immediately started to add up the repercussions of his decision and was preparing himself for the worst. For just about ages the two glared at each other with not a single word between them, but GLaDOS was far more impressive with the sheer royalty of Her presence, however crippled it may have been after being kicked off Her throne. Finally, She spoke.

“The human's health care center, you little idiot.”

Virgil had still been shielding Mel from GLaDOS with the side of his arm, whatever good that did, but when She'd spoken to him he relaxed. “Um...s-sorry, what?”

“The medical bay. Get her out of my sight before I change my mind.”

Virgil's eyes widened at Her and quickly collected Mel from the floor like he'd done earlier. He knew that he would not be strong enough to carry Mel all the way to the medical bay, at least not with how fast they needed to get there, and instead ran over to P-body to hand her over to the tall testing droid. “P-body! Atlas! Human's health center! Stat!”

The two testing droids were always eager to follow instructions, it was part of their programming, and if they were being asked to hurry to the medical bay then they knew the best short cuts for it. Virgil was about ready to run after them when the monotone of the central core's voice caught him mid step.

“Metal ball...”

Virgil hesitated, but he was in a hurry so he turned around to humor Her one last time.

The chamber was already starting to clean itself up now that She was back in power, and the central core hung there as if nothing had changed. All of their efforts to kick Her off the Mainframe had been a disaster, only for Virgil to cave in the last few seconds and agree to Her coming back online. He felt about as low as he could possibly be, and Her next words to him was one final kick while he was down.

“We are going to forget that this ever happened. Step out of your place again, Maintenance, and it will be a decade for you in the pit with the screaming robots before I decide to disassemble you. Are we clear?”

Virgil shivered, but he didn't dare to respond to Her now. If he said the wrong thing then She'd crush him right then in there, and now She had full power to do it. More importantly, he needed to be with Mel. He had to make sure she go to the medical bay where they could get her help. She would be okay.

Mel was a champion. She'd be fine.

#testing maintenance #chapter 18 #tm #portal #portal 2 #portal stories mel #fanfic #ff #fic #virgil #glados #mel #atlas #pbody #cave johnson #wheaterz

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