#i still think the whirr should be more high pitched

[kandidandi]

i've always wondered what the whirrrr would actually sound like

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “My Beautiful Sun.”

And end to another arc. And yes I know I am better at writing angst than fluff, so if you guys want some fluff, I am going to need some recommendations or ideas . I hope you like it and I hope you have a great Thursday!

The space above fiery A136 was quiet, a marble of glass hung in a vacuum of darkness. Fire licked silently across the planet’s surface as rain clouds gathered along the border of light and dark. 

The star sone with increased intensity, white hot through the darkness. A myriad of satellites, space stations and the occasional abandoned mining ship orbited the planet systems of light blinking in the darkness.

One of these ships, a luxury civilian transport was on the bright side of its orbit, silhouetted against the fiery star=, the lines of white where the sun hit and pools of black where it did not, making a sharp contrast upon the face of the ship between light and dark.

It seemed a peaceful thing, hanging there in the darkness unsuspecting of thwart was to come.

ON the far edge of the planet’s orbit, there was a sudden whirling and a sharp flash of light as another ship appeared from the darkness.

It was hulking, massive, and painted black against the stars, only its blue highlight strips gave any indication there was a ship there at al. She crawled from the darkness stealthily slithering through the starry expanse until her shadow bore down on the unsuspecting ship.

***

Fiery starlight spilled in through the front window, tinted just enough that they were not completely blinded by its awful magnitude. A figure stood against the burning light, unmoving, arms crossed over his chest.

On his shoulder there sat a smaller figure all colorful fluff and impossibly large eyes.

“Lord Avex….”

“Yes, Admiral.”

Deploy the grapples… and don’t bother to be gentle about it.

***

Sunny sagged against her chains, her legs dumbed from the increased drugs. The dosage they had given her far outweigh any of the other doses that had come before, insuring that she would not move during the procedure. As limp as she was, she worried about her joints dislocating, as her shoulders were the only thing holding her up.

“Hold it steady.” The man ordered, and she could feel the cool, clammy tough of the man’s hand on her lower left arm as the last bit of her forearm carapace was stripped away. The cold was immediate and unpleasant, and the feel of the air against her bare skin made her want to scratch it off. It was a horrible sensation that she detested immediately.

Looking down at her arm, the only thing left there was the grey, gore stained skin cut with abrasions and pale from never having seen the light . The  sight made her sick, as hideous as it was, and she used the last of her strength to turn her head away.

The man held up what was left of the carapace, “Ah, that should be enough for three vials, don’t you think? He walked across the room, and Sunny watched in hopeless anger as he fed her shining armor into the machine, grinding it into powder right there before her eyes. From there it dripped down into three bottles, and held them up to the light, “A little less than I thought we would get, But it should be enough.”

He walked back over the the fancy woman and handed her the vials, which she looked down at with distaste.”

“Is something wrong ma’am.”

She turned to look up at him as if that had been a stupid question, “Not as much as you were expecting? That sounds like you are short changing me. When I came here for three vials.I wanted three vials of the promised size, not a little less than what we were hoping for.”

The man held up his hands in a defensive way, “Ok ok, my apologies. We will get you some more.”

He turned to look at Sunny, and she knew what was coming next.

The circular saw blade began to spin slowly as his partner held it at the ready, lowering his goggles down over his face.

And then the ship jolted violentl.

The man pitched forward, nearly imbedding the circular saw tool in his own face, but catching himself at the last minute. The fancy woman keeled over backwards and hit the floor hard as her shoes unbalanced her, and the third man slammed sideways into the chains, releasing the mechanism that held her up, and causing her to fall to the floor. She didn’t really feel much when she hit, she hadn’t been all that high up anyway.

Out of all of them, her descent to the floor had been the least violent.

One of the men stood, “What the hell was that!”

The massive clatter of metal, was accompanied by the groaning of the ships hull which deflected and popped against the weight of something. Sirens began to go off overhead as the two men leaped to their feet, while the fancy woman struggled just to make it to her knees.

One of them raced over to the coms and slammed their fist against it, “What’s going on up there.”

There was no answer for a long moment before, “We are being boarded, sir!” The voice was frantic, and on the other end of the line Sunny could hear more metallic screeching.

The ship continued to vibrate and scream as the group of men staggered their way across the floor.

Sunny tried to lift her head, but didn’t have the strength.

Her mind moved slowly.

Being boarded.

Could it be?

But no…. That was too much to hope for…. Wasn’t it?

Next to her the other Drev shifted and lifted their heads.

The man pressed the comm again, “Someone do SOMETHING.”

“We can’t, sir they have shielding.”

“Than get rid of their shielding!”

The man on the other end of the line went quiet, “We aren’t going to win this one boss.

“Get the escape pods ready then.” She snarled.

“I can’t sir, its a magnetic grapple field, so nothing is getting out of this.

 THe man howled in frustration.

There was a sharp thud on the outside.

“How could they even get in?” one of the men wondered, “There is no outside access to the airlock.”

Just then another voice came over the line, “Sir, sir something has taken over out internal computer systems…. I I don’t know what it is but I….”

There was a loud THUD from somewhere below them.

“The airlock!” someone yelled 

And that was when Sunny began to laugh. It was so startling, that the entire room went quiet as they turned to look at her. She wasn’t really amused, but there was a part of her, one that was very smug about what she was sure was soon to happen.

“What are you laughing about, scarab.”

She continued to laugh for a long moment, “You’re fucked.”

“What is she talking about.” The woman demanded.

Sunny laughed again, “I know whose ship that is.” 

More laughter

The men looked concerned. One of them pointed the circular saw blade at her, “Tell us!”

She giggled manically, “That’s the Omen.”

“What do you mean the Omen.” The man said nervously, shuffling his feet, “I mean you dim bastard THE omen. The pride of the UNSC fleet…. Captained b Admiral vir and a crew of a thousand men and aliens. Celzex weapons, Vrul shields…. And GRAVITY enabled grappling fields.” She began to laugh again.

“He’s coming…. Hes coming.”

Her manic laughter had clearly unsettled then, and her warning made it all the worse.

“Someone��..I, give me the damn blowtorch.” 

Once given his prize, he thrust it at one of the other men and pointed towards the door. Outside Sunny was just beginning to hear the sounds of distant carnage, “Weld it shut!”

WHen the man didn’t move at first he nearly went ballistic, “DO IT NOW.”

Sunny began to laugh again.

The man still holding the saw blade turned to look at her, viciously kicking her in the side, “Shut up scarab.”

The man at the door was having a tough time getting the idea to work, and with everyone screaming at  him and his hands shaking, it was doing no real good. 

That was probably why the door didn’t last more than a few microseconds. With a loud screech and thunderous bang the door was ripped off its tracks. The six inch thick metal door, not just dented open or blown inward, but kicked out of its brackets and completely detached from the wall all together, with such a powerful force, it slammed into the first man and sent him back gnarly three feet, slamming into the floor, unmoving.

When the sparks settled, and the room quiet, Sunny heard the hydraulic whirr and hiss as two feet clattered against the floor.

Smoke from out in the hallway filtered in through the floor as the figure stood at the door.

The first human, the one at the intercom, raced forward, a steel pipe having appeared in his hands some minutes ago. He swung it at the newcomers head, but it was useless, he cot the steel pipe with the queal of metal against metal, forearm to pipe, and then ripped it backwards out of the man’s hands , sending him flailing to the floor.

The second man came at him with the only weapon left available: the whirring circular saw.

He caught that too on the metal of the exo skeleton and then droe it hard downward, sending the circular saw blade cutting right into the man’s foot and sticking him to the floor. The man screamed long and loud, but his attacker did not heed him, spinning once with a backhanded swing that sent the pipe careening into the other man’s head, with a violent THWACK.

The second man wrenched the saw blade from his foot with a roar of pain, but it was knocked aside and went clattering across the floor as he was punched in the sternum.

There was a sharp crunch as he went staggering backwards and hit the floor very still.

Behind him, a group of other figures poured into the room.

One figure, big and red, grabbed two humans by the backs of their coats and threw them into the nearby wall with a sharp clatter.

The original figure knelt on the floor fist drawn back, ready to send his fist through the man’s head.

“ADAM! HELP HER!”

His fist stopped and grew still. For a moment the man below him looked relieved, but with a sharp blow to the face he was knocked unconscious. 

Adam stood, blurry in her vision as he raced over to her side.

She heard the soft hissing of the Iron eye suit as he knelt next to her.

Strong hands and warm arms grasped around her chest and middle, hauling her partially upright where her head leaned against his chest. He held her tight, tight enough that it should have hurt but she didn’t care.

“Sunny…. Sunny can you hear me?” 

It echoed around and around inside her head.

Carnage nearly drowned him out.

A hand pressed against her cheek, “Sunny, Sunny please say something.”

Her head lolled against his chest as the light overhead faded in and out…

Her body, tense from a month of perpetual fear and anger slowly relaxed and she felt her body sliding downward before he caught her, holding her upright to sag against him.

For the first time in over a month, she was safe.

Her mind knew it.

And her body knew it.

So, it shut her off, allowed her some peace, in the arms of a person who wasn’t about to let anything more happen to her.

***

She didn’t feel the movement, wasn’t aware of the strong arms that carried her from the ship all on his own, wasn’t aware of the hushed voices and the quiet whispering. Wasn’t aware of the days that went by with her stillness and the waiting concern of those around her.

When she finally opened her eyes and awoke it was to soft beeping, and dim blue light. White curtains hung about her, over her head, and for a moment she wasn’t really sure where she was.

It wasn’t the sound at first but the sensations.

Something warm gripping her hand, and gripping it tight, and a soft caress over the skin of her exposed stomach, repeating circles, up the side down to the side and back.

She turned her head very slowly and groggily to the side.

At first she didn’t recognize the face of the man who sat next to her but as her slow brain caught up with her eyes she hummed in confusion and worry.

“Adam?”

The man lifted his head, turning to look at her. Scruffy, gaunt, and supporting about two weeks of growth on his chin and face, but when he smiled at her she knew for sure it was him, brighter than any light in this place. He rested a hand against the side of her face, “I…. i was worried…. You scared me.”

“Sorry” She muttered softly.

He brought his other hand up to the other side of her face leaning down to gently touch foreheads with her for a quiet moment, “I’m sorry I didn’t make it sooner.”

The pain in his eyes made her hurt just to watch and she shook her head, “An entire universe, and you still found me, considering you did it in a month is pretty impressive.”

He gave a weak smile. “If… If i had just been safer during the storm.”

She raised a hand, “Shh…. none of that.”

He trailed off and nodded sheepishly. He leaned forward, “I’m sorry, this… this isn’t about me…. How are you feeling?”

She shifted, and despite lethargy, she was at least able to move, “A bit…. Drugged.”

“Yeah, there were massive amount of paralysis in your system when we found you. Krill has been pulling the drugs out, but he says it may take a few weeks to get back to normal.”

Below her on the bed  She flex and unflexed her lower left hand. She wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to look, but she knew she had to. WHen she turned her head down she grew sick to her stomach. The hideous grey expanse of scarred up tissue and  disgusting pale skin. She turned her head away, but he caught her, hands to the side of her face again.

She let out a shaky breath

“Hey, hey, none of that…. Don’t even start.” One hand still on her cheek, he lowered the other and took her lower left hand in his, “This doesn’t change anything you hear me, nothing at all. Not about the way I feel, and certainly not about the way you should feel about  yourself ok….”

She struggled internally for a moment.

He squeezed her hand tighter, “No matter what, ok.:

She felt as he slid his hand down the inside of her wrist, resting his hand along the strange exposed skin of her forearm. It felt strange, unusual, tingly. It made her cringe thinking about touching it, but he didn’t flinch once, “Don’t you think for one minute that this makes you any less.” She stared into his face and he stared back with a conviction so strong she felt herself starting to believe.

His serious face was broken by a sudden smile, “Besides…. I…. I have something for you.”

The bright smile and excitement filtered over to her and she sat up against her pillows.

“I made it myself!” he announced with pleasure, pausing as he turned around with a box between his two hands.

“I….” He looked down a bit sheepishly, “Don’t laugh alright….. It was my first go but I… I wanted to make something….”

Sunny didn’t even have to see it to know she would love it anyway.

Slowly he handed to box over to her, and she lifted the lid.

Inside, was a polished metal vambrace made of shimmering blue metal flecked with little golden bits on the inside.

She stared.

“Do you like it…. I…. well I made it while you were sleeping,... i mean i would have stayed here if krill had let me, but he sort of forced me to leave and get some rest, of course I couldn’t sleep so I ended up down in your workshop instead, and I wasn’t really sure what to do, but I made this and I thought maybe it would help, and since I remembered that  there was a little bit of your dad’s carapace in my leg, I removed a little piece and used that inside the metal, and I’m sorry if that’s a bad thing or….” She gripped his hand to stop him from rambling.

“Can you, help me put it on.”

The relief on his face was so visible it was almost a sound, and he gently took the metal bracer from the box. He looked nervous as it snapped open and he situated her arm inside.

She had trouble looking at it, but his expression didn’t change once as his fingers brushed over the exposed skin.

The metal was cold against her arm.

He took a deep breath, and snapped the brase close with a sharp snap. 

The strange feeling of the room was now gone, and she was left only with the slowly warming underside of the metal, and the beautiful glittering of the Crude metalwork inlaid with pieces of her father’s carapace.

“Does it fit?”

She lifted her arm and turned it this way and that, admiring the shine of the metal.

She looked up at him, “Not bad…. Not bad at all.” 

He grinned, the relief still evident there. He pressed his forehead against hers for another quick moment before sitting back, “Now rest, or I’ll knock you out myself, you hear.”

She snorted but yawned, “I’d like to see you try.”

“If i can find one Drev in an entire universe, I’m pretty sure I could knock that same Drev unconscious, but whatever makes you feel better, Zhak, hijan chal.”

She closed her eyes.

And fell

Fast

Asleep

[dudeandduchess]

"Blind date set up by friends" or "Everyone thinks we’re already dating, but we’re just best friends- oh wait" for one of my boys if it isn't too much trouble. Please and thank you so much 😭❤️✨💖

Hope you like it, Biz!!! 💜✨✨✨

For songs, I listened heavily to Falling by Keahiwai while writing this. And for my fellow Filipinos, I also listened to Walang Iba by Ezra Band and Alipin by Shamrock while writing. I have so many feels for those two songs omg.

***

Giyuu x F!S/O: “Everyone thinks we’re already dating, but we’re just best friends- oh wait” (Cliché Prompts, Modern AU, SFW Scenario):

Warnings: Mild Adult Themes, Cliffhanger

“Bring your boyfriend along on Saturday, (Y/n). It will be fun,” Leiko, one of (Y/n)’s friends from university, exclaimed happily as she clapped her hands together in excitement.

Her words immediately confused (Y/n), as she was sure that she had never told any of her friends about having a boyfriend. Plus, she was pretty sure that she didn’t have one— because she really didn’t.

“What boyfriend are you talking about? Did you sniff too much of the dry-erase ink back there?”

Leiko quirked an eyebrow at that, before laughing. “The guy you’re always with; the gym teacher.”

“Giyuu?!” (Y/n) practically guffawed, holding her sides because they had begun to hurt so much from her laughter— only to have said laughter die down when she saw her friend’s disbelieving expression. “He’s just my best friend. I’d never date him.”

“Oh, really? Because I thought you two made a cute couple,” The shorter woman uttered innocently, before adding, “Plus the way he looks at you… oh my.“

That conversation wasn’t even supposed to bother (Y/n). At all. Because she had been told the same thing numerous times before, yet she’d always managed to shake the speculations off with little to no sweat. 

And to top things off, that discussion had happened two weeks ago— so she had no business feeling so out of sorts so long after the actual conversation had taken place.

She knew that she had to get a grip on herself, for the sole reason that she had to go back to her old self; the same person who could easily shake off assumptions about her relationship with her best friend.

But that was before— way back when she was in high school with Giyuu; not when she was a full-fledged woman in her second year of law school. And certainly before Giyuu had grown into his good looks.

To think that the same sharp features she’d teased him about would be the same ones that would be plaguing her—in the middle of her Administrative Law class,  no less— was the biggest turnabout of the century.

She wanted to bang her head against her desk, yet held herself back from doing so— because she didn’t want to ruin the good reputation that she’d so carefully maintained throughout the past year.

Instead, she pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to the very man who was occupying her thoughts.

‘Let’s hang out later, if you can manage to stop terrorizing your students during lunch.’

She was just about to lock her phone and set it aside, when a message bubble immediately popped up beneath the text she’d just sent. And, weirdly enough, her heart had skipped a beat at the mere sight of it— even though it was just a paltry thumbs-up emoji.

It was a typical Giyuu reply, yet she couldn’t explain why she felt so giddy at receiving a text from him.

With a sigh, she locked her phone and put it face-down beside her codal— trying to breathe through the butterflies she felt fluttering around inside her stomach.

***

To say that (Y/n) was nervous was the understatement of the century. It was supposed to be nothing more than a get-together with their old high school friends, but she still found herself getting primped up for it— all because Giyuu was going to be there as well.

She didn’t want to admit that the reason why she had pulled on the cute dress was because of him, yet the longer she stared at herself in the mirror, the more she realized that she chose it because it matched the color of his eyes.

“He’s just a friend, (Y/n). Don’t be a fucking dumbass,” The young woman uttered to her reflection— a bit more vehemently than her usual pep talks before dates, but the vehemence was necessary to get her point across. “Don’t make it weird.”

For all her pep-talk though, the moment that she heard the automatic lock whirr to life— which signaled Giyuu’s arrival— her heart instantly began to thump rapidly inside her chest. She felt so short of breath at the mere thought of seeing him again, and that confused the hell out of her; because it was just Giyuu.

But what further threw her through a loop was the fact that she had been feeling so strange whenever they saw each other. She was more conscious of her actions around him, and even more conscious of what she wore as well as how she looked that day.

There was even one instance when Giyuu had entered her home unannounced, and she had taken to scrambling over to her room so that she could get changed out of her borderline-ratty sweats— right into a much nicer set of clothes.

Of course, in typical Giyuu fashion, the man hadn’t said anything about his friend’s weird actions— even though he did think that it was weird of her to wear something so body-hugging at home.

That had given him quite a few raunchy dreams in the days that followed, but he would never let her— or anyone else— know about that.

“Hey!” (Y/n) greeted a bit too chirpily, with her tone rising up a pitch higher than normal— and sounding breathy with excitement. Instantly, she cleared her throat in an effort to cover up the awkwardness she felt brewing inside her. “You’re here early.”

Giyuu shrugged at that, all while trying to take in the breathtaking sight that (Y/n) made. He didn’t want to seem like a creep by blatantly ogling her, so he willed his eyes to dart over to the wall clock behind her. 

He had been an hour early, but that was because he wanted to get (Y/n) to himself before he had to share her attention with their old friends. If it were up to him, they would just stay at either his or her apartment, and they would just cuddle on the couch.

And if she were his, then they would be doing much naughtier things than cuddling.

But the fact remained: she wasn’t his, and he had no right to monopolize her attention like that. They were best friends; no more, and no less.

He would take (Y/n) however she wanted— whether it was as his friend, or something more. Because he would rather keep her forever, than lose her altogether— all due to the feelings he’d secretly been harboring for her ever since they were children.

“You got done even earlier. Were you expecting someone else?” Giyuu asked with a slight tilt of his head; an action that had his best friend’s eyes widening, and her lips slightly falling open.

In (Y/n)’s opinion, that innocent head tilt was already a killer move on her heart— but partnered with his heartbreakingly good looks, it was a full on assault on her entire person.

She had never been so at odds with herself on whether to pinch his cheeks or fuck him senseless. Hell, if given the opportunity, she would do both.

But she didn’t want to make things weird between them; so she stayed rooted to where she was, as he waved a hand right in front of her face.

When that didn’t snap her out of her stupor, Giyuu leaned in further towards her— unmindful of the way his heart beat sped up. He was used to it, anyway; because the very thought of her was always enough to remind him just how madly in love he was with her.

And he did think of her a lot. More than he should have, really.

He could be in the middle of class, teaching his students how to do volleyball serves, and his mind would always flit back to (Y/n).

Always. It was inevitable at that point, so he’d stopped trying to fight it. A huge part of him had come to terms with the fact that she had never been just his best friend; she had always been something more to him.

“I just thought that you would appreciate not having to wait for me, for once,” (Y/n) answered with a pout, as well as a vibrant blush across her cheeks. She even tried to look away from him, but she still found her eyes flickering back to where he was— subtly trying to memorize the way that his button down shirt clung to his torso, and the way that his jacket emphasized the broad set of his shoulders.

She also knew that she shouldn’t have, but her brain showed her a very disconcerting image of her clinging tightly to those shoulders— all while he hovered above her, and also with her legs locked around his very bare (and very sexy) waist.

Immediately, (Y/n) shook her head to get rid of the image that had her spluttering incoherently.

“Huh? Did you say something?”

“What? No. Just… it’s getting a bit too warm in here, why don’t we go out for a walk? Or maybe some ice cream?” The young woman suggested as chirpily as she could, and her words would have convinced Giyuu that everything was normal, had it not been for the way she skirted around him to get her coat from the rack behind him.

It was as if she was really trying to avoid touching him, and that bothered Giyuu immensely; still, he said nothing about it. Because he didn’t want to cause a misunderstanding between them.

So, with a heavy heart, he watched (Y/n) slip her heels on before donning her coat. His gaze never left her, waiting for her to turn back to look at him and send him a smile; the same one that she always shot him before their nights out together. And when that smile didn’t come his way, he could only frown and look on as she opened the door.

*** 

Giyuu wasn’t sure why, but the clerk at the convenience store had been giving him such shifty looks as he paid for (Y/n)’s Giant Cone, as well as his Garigari-kun popsicle. He had even gone as far as to check his reflection on one of the convex mirrors on his way out, but found nothing wrong with him at all.

“Is there something on my face?” He asked once he had managed to walk the short distance to (Y/N), whom had stayed at the park near the store.

The young woman looked up from her phone at that, then quickly locked the device and placed it in her coat’s pocket for safekeeping. It was a bit difficult to see her best friend’s face what with the lack of proper lighting and all, but when she did manage to make out the frown that was set into his features, she couldn’t help but laugh lightly. “Maybe it was because you were frowning so hard. You do look scary when you start scowling like that.”

In response, Giyuu rolled his eyes at her, before taking a seat next to her on the bench. And quietly, he noted that she was sitting farther from him than usual. His frown deepened more at that, yet he still said nothing— instead opting to reach into the plastic bag in his right hand, and handing her ice cream over to her.

Silence fell upon the two of them as they ate their treats— not exactly awkward, and not exactly comfortable, but something that was in between the two. It had Giyuu on edge, yet calm enough to not outright ask (Y/n) what was going on with her.

He had noticed that she had been acting weird around him for a while at that point, but her iffiness only got worse as time went by. At first it had been simple things like taking a while to return his calls and texts, then it had transitioned into not asking him for lunch anymore, until it had arrived at the point where she was trying not to be close to him— just like what was happening at that moment.

And it bothered him immensely; not only because he wasn’t used to her distancing herself from him— but also because he was worried that he had done something wrong. Hell, it had him thinking if his feelings for her had somehow gotten to her, which was why she was acting the way she was.

Giyuu had become so lost in his own thoughts, that he jumped when he felt (Y/n) tap his shoulder to get his attention. Slowly, he turned to look at her, all while making sure to not let his popsicle drip on his pants— as both of them still had a party to attend later.

Wordlessly, and with a mad blush warming her entire face, (Y/n) shyly held up the end of the cone for her ice cream. It was a habit that she and Giyuu had formed from when they were younger, as she didn’t like to eat the end of the cone— so she always gave it to him.

Gingerly, as if he was going to bite her hand off with one sudden move, the young woman offered it up to her best friend. And, in turn, the aforementioned man turned slightly to face her— before opening his mouth to accept her offering. Only, unlike the other times that she’d fed him the end of her ice cream cones, her hand was slightly shaking; so, Giyuu wrapped his left hand around her wrist and guided her fingers up to his lips.

Her breath hitched at the unexpected action, yet she could only look on as Giyuu looked straight into her eyes as he leaned forward and took the cone into his mouth— chewing slowly, before swallowing. Still, he never let go of her hand; even if she had tried to gently tug it away from him.

Both of them were trapped in that moment; ensnared within each other’s gazes, and completely uncaring of the world around them. Hell, Giyuu didn’t even care that the last bite of his Garigari-kun had fallen off the stick and was steadily melting at his feet. All that he could focus on was her; and how beautiful she looked, especially with that blush on her face.

And when she bit down on her bottom lip, it took everything in him not to pull her in and kiss the living daylights out of her.

“Something’s been bothering you. You know you can always tell me, right?” He began softly; earnestly.

(Y/n)’s eyes flickered away from Giyuu’s eyes for a moment, but gravitated back towards those blue irises after a few seconds. Her heart was beating so hard that she could feel the palpitations ringing in her ears, but she pushed the unsettling feeling down— in favor of thinking rationally; or, at the very least, trying to think rationally.

Part of her wanted to come clean with her feelings, while another part told her that that would be a bad idea. However, before she could stop herself, her mouth had already parted and the words had already rolled off her tongue.

“I’m in love with you.”

[vesuviannights]

Asra x Reader. AFAB reader (no pronouns). 🍋🍋

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have Asra tell you how to get yourself off with your own fingers? Of course you have. Feel free to play along at home when you get to the juicy part.

Featuring: so so so much dirty talk, phone sex, orgasm denial, instructional, mutual masturbation

**

The hardest nights aren’t the ones where he is on the other side of the globe, and you are left imagining how hard you might have to try to reach through the Earth’s molten crust just to brush your fingertips against his.

No.

The hardest nights are the ones where he is so close and yet so far, where you could easily find a car or a cab or a train and within a few short hours, find yourself just there with him.

Only, you can’t.

Because of work. Because of business. Because of commitments that keep you both in each of your places, and so you are stuck with listless and sleepless nights where you can’t settle into the warmth of his touch.  

Where you won’t venture to his side of the bed out of hope that you might, by dawn’s first light, wake to find him stretched out there, lips parted in his soft breaths, white lashes fluttering against his cheekbones.

But it never happens, and so you merely spend those nights fading in and out of the darkness, alone but in the hopes that you will not be soon enough.

You are roused from your messy attempt at sleep by your buzzing phone. You grope for it, buried somewhere in the sheets after too long spent texting him where you should have been asleep. 

When you were trying to be asleep.

Eyes still half-closed, barely lucid, you bring the phone to your ear and murmur a throaty greeting without glancing at the screen.

And your answer comes all too quickly.

“You always sound like you’ve been choking on my cock when I call at 3am.”

Your heart stills and then leaps into action, fluttering against your ribcage while your gut twists and heats. You let out a choked noise, and he chuckles; his own voice is soft, husky, a little slurred. Perhaps he had been trying and failing to sleep, too.

“So have you?” He asks, with a feigned coyness. “Been choking on cock?”

“Only ever yours,” you finally answer. “But you’re away. Again.”

“Mmmm…but if I wasn’t, would we be able to do this?”

It takes you a few moments to realise exactly what this is.

In the static silence, you hear the rustle of sheets. A slight hitch of his breath. And there, just barely there—

The sounds of wet skin-on-skin, accompanied by his quiet groans.

“Oh,” You whisper. “Oh.”

You feel the flush at your cheekbones, reaching straight out to the tips of your ears. Your nipples tighten, and without thinking your free hand smooths up your stomach to cup a breast and flick one of the hard little buds.

“Are you touching yourself, baby?” Asra murmurs.

“Yes.”

“No, you’re not,” he sighs. “Not properly. Not the way I need you to be. Though maybe that’s my fault—I know you always love some…instructions whenever we play.”

Your teeth catch on your bottom lip as your hand stills. The cogs in your mind, despite being sleep-addled and possessing no problem solving skills whatsoever a such an hour, click and whirr as he says each word.

Instructions. Play.

And suddenly no part of you is sleepy or coquettish or slurring your words. Suddenly you are alight, buzzing a little at the tip of each finger and toe.

A final warmth settles over you, accompanied by the tightening of your abdomen. You let out a soft moan, and then your hand slips away from your breast.

“Are you ready?” He asks.

You nod, and even though he cannot see you, he begins:

“Press your thighs together.

Do you feel the warmth there? The heat from the night, the ache of the muscle as you strain and press?

If I were there, I would hold your knees together and kiss up your thighs inch by inch, tiny little butterfly kisses to leave you whimpering and whining for more.

Oh, and if you moved? If you reached out for me? Oh, my love, I would start aaall over again, as many times as I needed until you were patient enough for me to reach what mattered most.

Maybe, if you were good, I would taste you—just for a moment, I would spread your lips and roll the tip of my tongue over your clit to begin coaxing it out.

How does that sound, baby? I think you like the sound of it. I can hear your desperate little whines…

Are you being naughty—are you touching yourself yet? No? Good.

Because then, I would coax your pretty thighs apart with my fingertips, and trace stars and moons on the insides of your knees with them.

I wouldn’t let you look away, not even to blink or breathe. I want your eyes on me, and only me, as I lean in to scrape my teeth along the inside of your knee, as I place a hot, slow, wet kiss a little further inside your thigh.

Can you feel that against your foot? Can you feel how hard my cock is, how much it aches to be inside you?

Maybe if you’re good, baby doll, I’ll let you taste it, let you lick it from base to tip to make it nice and wet before I rub it against that needy little hole of yours…

Oh, baby, do you think I didn’t hear that? Do I need to have you put me on loudspeaker so you can tuck those devious little hands of yours under your ass? No? Good.

Now…imagine my hot breath, so close to your sex, your nipples tight, thighs quivering underneath my touch. I’ve left marks all along their insides, little love bites that only you and I will know about.

Are you trembling, baby? Are you aching?

Because now, I want you to take your hand and place it on your chest.

I want you to feel your heart thudding against your palm, I want you to feel how desperate you are, all because of what I’ve told you.

I don’t ever need to touch you to have you this needy, do I? No, I don’t.

Are your thighs still pressed together? Because they should be. I want you to keep aaaaall of that heat right where it’s needed. I want you aching and desperate for my cock.

Slide your palm down your chest.

Slowly, slowly.

Curl your fingertips just a little so you can feel your fingernails scraping along the skin. Do it nice and slow, drag it out for as long as you need, and then one you’re aching…and desperate…and trembling…just like I want you…then you can take your hand between your thighs.

But don’t be greedy, baby. Just a little touch for now, just like I would if I was there. Light little touches around your sensitive lips, the inside of your thighs…coax out that sensitive little nub, make it nice and swollen for me.

You’re dripping all over the sheets, aren’t you? Gods, I wish I was there to see it, to taste it…tell me how it feels, how you look. Are your cheeks flushed? Is your lip bleeding?

AH! I can hear that. I can hear your fingers moving around in your wetness, pressing against your hole…did I tell you that you could fuck your fingers yet? No. So why are you?

Oh, because you’re needy, is that it? Because you can’t wait to get yourself off?

Well then…go ahead. Do it. Slip a finger in, or two—or do you need more than two? Are you that desperate?

Hold your breath so I can hear them better, so I can hear them slip in and out of you, so I can hear the squelch as they curl and spread you apart…oh, baby, I wish I was there, how I would be feasting on you right now…I would drown in your beautiful pussy like a starving servant, lap you up and let you hear every beautiful sound.

Are you fucking your fingers? What about your clit—are you putting your fingers everywhere you need them? I can hear how close you are; the hitch of your breath, your little whines, the shuffle of the sheets as your hips shift…can you hear me, too? Can you hear my cock in my hand?

I’m so close to coming just from the sounds of you, the images playing in my head…yes…yes…augh…godsssssss…yesyesyesyesss….”

There is a hitch in his breath, soft groans you barely notice. High pitched keens. The violet rustle of sheets. Cursing. And then a soft sigh.

“I wish you were here to clean me up. To run that perfect little pink tongue all over my thighs and my cock, to suckle on the tip and make me shudder from it being almost too much…I would have you suck off each and every one of my cum-covered fingers while you looked me in the eye, all while you grind that pretty pussy of yours against my thigh until you’re crying from the frustration.

Are you still touching yourself? Yes? Are you close, baby?

Stop.

You heard me.

You aren’t allowed to come.

I don’t care how desperate or needy or close you are…you’re going to wait for me to be there when you come.

Take your fingers and clean them off with that tongue of yours. Pretend it’s my cock, wrap your tongue around them and suckle them, swallow them. Moan for me, baby, yes...”

You slip back into the world as though from some fevered dream, his voice in your ear from where you’ve dropped your phone on the pillow.

Your fingers are in your mouth, nearly down your throat as the last of your moans die right beside them. The fingers on your other hand are twitching against the skin of your lower belly, so desperate to finish what your other hand had started—but even more desperate to hear his words of approval, to know that you had been good and obeyed him.

“I’m so tired,” he yawns softly into the phone. You can hear, somehow over the rush of blood in your ears, his joints popping and cracking as he stretches out. “I know I woke you up. I’m sorry. I should have left you more of the oils to help you sleep. You’ll be okay, right?”

You can easily hear the lilt in his voice, and you can only whimper in response.

“I thought so,” he tells you. “I love you, baby. Goodnight. And behave yourself.”

And then the line goes dead.

**

🍑 Requesting | Masterlist | My Ao3

[finleyjayne]

Break a Leg Chapter 3: Take Two

A/N: Thank you for waiting so long for this chapter. There were so many choices that had to be made as to where I wanted to take this. I decided (with the help of my best friend who is so done with this story that it’s not even funny) that this was the most honest option. Let me know what you think! Also all songs referenced are linked via their names/first reference if unnamed.

Series Summary: After your accident, everything in your life changed. Your shared dream of being on Broadway with your best friend, Amanda, was over. But just because YOU don’t think you want the same things in life doesn’t mean that your friend won’t see through you. Taking matters into her own hands, you end up at an audition you’re sure that you’ll fail since SHIELD Theater Company is known the world over for typecasting. And you don’t fit any of your typical actress types. Little do you know that the company’s new writer - nihilistic, pessimistic, and resident drunk; Bucky Barnes- is looking for someone out of their normal choices.

Series Warnings: Guys, this is based on my own experiences within the Acting community after gaining weight and height after an accident. There will be fat-shaming, mentions of eating disorders, unhealthy expectations, unhealthy coping mechanisms, also like bias based on looks.

Chapter 1 | Previous Chapter | Masterlist

Warnings for this chapter include but are not limited to: Swearing, Angst, eating disorder (if you squint), unrealistic audition process (because I can), PTSD dreams, Anxiety attack, Hurt/Comfort, dance injury descriptions, Amanda almost getting her face punched.

Word Count: 2,336

The familiar feel of gathered tulle whispered around your legs as you float across the stage. Your feet burn with the tiny movements that pushed you across the stage. The choreography was new, but you already knew it by heart. After all, you have been dreaming of playing this role ever since you had seen the show all those years ago. The steps sped, and as you approached the leap of faith, That leap would pull on the fly lines. You knew something was wrong. There was the slightest of whirrs from the top left pulley, pulling you up short.

"Why did you stop? You have the fly lines on, It's step, turn, turn, and leap." Your director yelled from the darkened house.

"There is something wrong with the left pulley." You say back. "It's making a funny noise."

"That's just the way of pulleys, Y/N. Let's run it from the top of the number, this time with the fly."

"I really don't think so," you mutter as you take your place in the side wings. Amanda meets you there. She hands you a water bottle, which you sip from as the interlude plays.

"You can do it. Trust yourself, Y/N."

"I trust myself just fine. The person I don't trust is the rigging guy who is currently snogging his girlfriend instead of paying attention to his job."

"It's going to be fine, Y/N." She says, rolling her eyes and pushing you towards the stage for your cue.

As the dance progresses, you stop focusing on the steps and just feel the movement. You really were the fairy: light, agile, and completely ethereal. You take the two turns perfectly and leap off the stage and into the audience. You feel yourself relax as you swing above the seats, being lifted higher until you were suspended in the center of the stage. You continued to dance, then something went wrong, there was a hard yank from that left pulley. It unbalanced you, pulling taut as the secondary line went slack. As more of your weight was given to it, a loud grinding and a high-pitched ping echoed over the sounds of the music as you fell to the stage floor. Before anyone can do anything, you fall.

Your jolt out of your sleep suddenly, an invisible weight pressing on your chest. Your heartbeat is blaring in your ears as you fight to breathe. Shivers raking up and down your body. Unable to move even the tips of your fingers as tears blur your perception of your dim room. After what seems to be hours of laying there suffocating, your breathing turns into sobs. You are finally able to move, though, as you roll onto your side, trying to curl into the fetal position, a scream echos into the silence. Your busted up leg sends phantom pains through you, cramping and pulling with unnatural tension. It was a charlie horse from hell, and you rationally knew that most of it was fake.

Amanda runs in a few seconds later with a pink aluminum baseball bat, looking around for the disturbance, when she finds none she turns to you. "Y/N, what is it?"

You just stared at her, unable to move as phantom pain shot up and down your leg. Memories of blood and bone hide behind your eyelids, torturing you with every blink.

She stares at you for a few minutes before slowly setting the bat down. and coming to hold you. "It was the dream again, wasn't it." She cradles your head, maneuvering you as carefully as she can into her arms. "Hush now, it's okay. We are here, that is the past. You don't ever have to fly again. Rehearsals will all be on the ground for your new show. All you have to do is a little choralography. It will be fine. You won't get hurt."

Her reassuring calm, paired with her arms stroking up and down your back, are a balm to your terrified mind. Your sobs ebb. Taking a few deep breaths, you sit yourself up, pulling away from her, immediately feeling guilty for waking her this early. "thank you, 'Manda. It really means a lot."

"It's the least I can do when my best friend is struggling. Now, why don't you take a nice hot shower? I'll get breakfast started, and then we can head over to Rijah's before your audition today."

"Sure," you say noncommittally, you didn't really feel like eating, but you knew it would make her feel better to see you fed before she sends you to the sharks again. "Would you like to play live-action barbie today? I mean, you did say that today's audition would be special," you ask her on her way to the kitchen.

"I think you should wear that cute new swing dress—the one with the pink halter and the black skirt. Go light on the make-up. Doe eyes," she called from the kitchen.

"Okay. Are we going to be meeting with our agent today or is this another one of those, he gave you a list and expects us both to be there sort of deal?" You ask, wincing as you try to distract yourself from the pain as you rub the cramps out of your leg.

"Well, it's kinda just one audition today. I know you don't want to go back, but I was promised by Steve that if you show up, they will listen to you--"

At that, you were up and in the kitchen. Staring your friend down in your scanty sleepwear. "Please don't tell me that I'm auditioning for Stark's Theater again. I mean, he already kicked me to the curb once. What makes you think that he won't show up just to kick me out again?" You sneer, half-naked, and ready to punch her in her too pretty face.

"It's not Stark's theater troupe anymore, he has taken a back seat this year, leaving Miss Potts to handle more of it while he moves into the movie industry. You will be fine. Like I said, Steve has been nagging me all year for your contact details so he could offer you a personal invitation. I told him that you would go if you wanted. I mean, I'm still going to make you go with me to the building. Remember, you promised that after last year, you wouldn't pass up a chance to sing for anyone. Not anymore. Especially with your boss being as chill as he is."

The fight drains from your shoulders as she uses your own words against you. You are still annoyed that she is taking you to an audition for SHIELD, again, though. Stomping back to your bathroom, you slam the door. "Why do my friends always take me at my word?" you ask yourself as you hang your head over the sink basin. Taking a few more deep breaths, you push down your new-formed audition anxiety.

Fixing yourself up and packing a set of exercise clothes for your rehearsal later, as well as your repertoire binder, resume, and pair of ballet slippers. It hadn't taken long to get into something after reapplying yourself. Even though the show you were in at the moment was a two-day ballet in the park for little kids. But it was something, and it paid enough to put it on your resume.

You hurried in the shower, letting the steam take away more of the tension from your body as you scrubbed yourself. As the water starts running clear of bubbles, you close your eyes, envisioning an alternative ending to your dream. In your new version, Bucky, your unconventional knight in shining army, that handsome man who had come to your rescue all those months ago, comes and catches you before you are flown too high. He takes your hand, pulling you close, his breath whispering across your face as his blue-grey eyes stare into yours. He leans forward, your lips part… Amanda is shouting from the other side of the door that breakfast was ready before you finished the thought.

With a different kind of sigh, you pull yourself out of the cooling water, and back into real life.

Amanda and Elijah have once again outdone themselves with their song choice for you. You couldn't help but laugh as they put their top three options in front of you, Better from Little Women, If You Knew My Story from Bright Star, and I'm a Star from Smash.

"So what's the cut time Amanda?" you ask, paging through the three songs.

"They want the whole thing." Amanda and Elijah said in unison. Amanda looking at you with barely withheld excitement, and 'Rijah with his usual sophomanic way.

"They want the whole song? or they want all the different cuts prepared so they can choose?" You couldn't believe that they would want a whole three-minute song. That just seems overboard.

"The whole song. Steve asked for it personally. " She said, smiling, "This is going to be it, Y/N! This is going to be it! We are finally going to be in an acting company together! I can feel it! Now sing the songs. Let's see which one will fit best!"

Your heart beats fast in your chest. The whole song, they wanted the entire song. No one wants the complete song. Sometimes they don't even want the entire song at a callback. You couldn't help but stare openmouthed at your best friend. What exactly was going on today? You hadn't felt this many emotions in a single day since last year.

Before you can really contemplate which god had decided to smile in your direction, Elijah starts playing the introduction for the first few bars of Bright Star. Even then, Elijah has to repeat the intro twice before Amanda finally pinched you back into the moment. Immediately you jumped into it. Hazily stumbling through the first two measures before Elijah stopped playing.

He looked at you, annoyed. "Y/N, if you ain't gunna sing, don't pretend like it."

You shook yourself at the reprimand. "I'm sorry. If I get to sing a whole song, can we do something else? Better is an excellent power song, but it is very repetitive. I wanna give them a show. Something that will wow them. But I don't want to give off the vibe that I am still butt-hurt over last year. I want to show them I can take the initiative and work hard."

Elijah smirked, "Okay, what about weekly volcano press? It has some of the same stuff, and kinda rounds out what she did to improve. Also, you can play with all of your different character voices."

You give him a funny look, "What do you mean? And isn't that song like 8 minutes long?"

"You know what I mean. Don't act like I haven't been paying attention to you over the last three years! You sing with different timbres and weights for each character when you are helping Amanda with her practice. Sometimes I feel like I need to check and make sure you aren't switching out your vocal cords for every character."

"Elijah is right! Here! Sheetmusic! She places her tablet on the piano. And it can be a test on Steve's word. If they don't stop you, you know for sure that Steve will keep his words as a director."

You tilt your head back and forth, deliberating, "I don't really want to be petty Amanda."

"Y/N, when in all the years I have known you have you ever chosen not to be petty?" Amanda says, arms crossed over her chest, hip cocked.

"To you never, to everybody else, I try to be considerate more than petty," you meeting her attitude with sincerity.

"Suuure." Elijah and Amanda share an eyeroll.

"Whatever. If you really think that this song would be best, then I will take your advice. However, with my track record, it will end up blowing up in my face," you resign with a sigh looking over Elijah's shoulder as you scan through the score.

"Don't give me that Bullshit, Y/N/N. You will do fine. It's not like I haven't watched you play around with this song. You could probably do it in your sleep." Amanda gave you one of her signature I-know-you-know-you-can-do-this looks. Taking her phone out and pointing it at you. "Now, sing the damn song!"

With a sigh, you straighten back up. You knew they wouldn't let it go. "Fine, but if this becomes a repeat of last year. I will reevaluate our friendship status. Lead the way, Elijah."

Amanda hadn't been lying when she said that you had the song on lock. You breezed through the voice changes. Flipping octaves, effortlessly changing registers, and adapting tonalities. By the time the seven minutes were over, you were slightly winded. Your chest heaved lightly as you were filled with that after-performance high. You knew there were a few places that you hiccupped, but you had a good thirty minutes, and they were easy fixes.

Looking up at your small audience, you should have expected the smug smiles that spread on their faces. Amanda gave you a smirk. "Is there something you would like to tell me?"

"I don't want to tell you shit. But you were right. It is a fun song." You turn to an equally smug Elijah, "can we go over the troll verse again? I messed up the lyrics. And then I'd like to drill the last part where Clarisa comes back to face Braxton. Those quick transitions are a bit different than the Sutton Foster recording, and I don't want to be psyched out either way."

"Whatever I can do to help you," Elijah says, turning back to the piano.

"I'll go print the music for your rep binder." Amanda practically squealed, running out of the room, phone in hand.

You shake your head, refocusing on all of the things you needed to refine before this would work.

|Next Chapter|

Tag List: @cavillanche @buckys-broody-muffin @tossacoin2yourwitcher​ @star-spangled-beard-burn​

[shadedrose01]

Young God

Relationships: Harley Keener/Peter Parker

Tags: idek how to tag this one, uhh, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, kind of?, more like, Enemies to Lovers, Enemies with benefits?, Rivalry, Rivals with benefits?, Its hard to explain aodjsk, Harley Keener as Iron Lad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Has a Bad Day, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Nothing shown tho, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, parkner week 2020, Day 2, Arguing

Prompts: “And i said ‘no,’ you know, like a liar” / identity shenanigans / iron lad

Notes: Day 2, everybody! Hope you enjoy! 💞💞

Read on ao3 Here!

~~

He says "oo, baby girl, you know we're gonna be legends,

I'm the king and you're the queen, and we will stumble through heaven,"

Peter sucks in a quick breath just before he crashes onto the rooftop, sliding across the sandpaper like tiles and feeling as it rips up his suit, the backs of his arms and legs, his hands as he claws and slows himself down until he finally stops, just at the edge of the house.

He stays still for a second, pants as he hears the mechanical whirrs and clicks of the robotic arms coming closer and closer to him, before he feels his hair stand up, and jumps backwards off of one rooftop to the other, just as Doc Ock crashes through the house below him, leaving only destruction in his wake. Peter listens sharply, for a scream or a cry but hears nothing, and feels a wave of relief knowing the family must not of been home, before its quickly wiped away as he instinctive jumps out of the way again, a claw crunching the stone he was stood on just moments before.

"Come on, Spider-Man," the man taunts, his bluish purple goggles gleaming in the setting sunlight. "Stop running away, and fight!"

Another claw, and another jump, except this time, Peter bounces off of the next rooftop he lands on, circling around and kicking the man right in the jawbone. "You asked for it!" He spits out as the kick throws him back, off kilter for a second, a moment that Peter tries to take to get out of distance again, out of range, but he's too slow, a third claw reaching for him, about to grab him-

Before its blasted to pieces by a bright purple light, and Peter cant help but to stifle the annoyed sigh that threatens to escape, the simmering anger that's been inside him all day starting to boil, to bubble up as he hears the familiar, way way too familiar Southern drawl call out, in all its mocking glory, "Hey squid boy, watch where you're throwing those things, someone could get hurt!"

Peter lands onto the brick wall, sticking into place and turns just to see Doc let out an irritated yell, and lunge for the bright red and gray suit, purple lights attached like lazor pointers to a cat, an easy target that never seems to faze the man no matter how many times Peter told him to tone them down. For once, Peter understands Docs anger, annoyance, as the suit weaves through his claws and shoots them apart with ease, laughing and mocking him the entire time. It makes his insides twist, and his blood boil, his heart racing and his teeth gritting together.

Peter throws himself off the wall just in time to kick Doc to the ground, all of his claws and weapons destroyed, and an affronted, almost insulted noise comes from the robotic suit flying beside him. "You can't just come in and steal the kill, that's not cool, dude!"

Peter doesn't even spare him a glance, webbing the villians hand, feet and then body to the ground. "What, like you did?"

"I did not," The robotizied voice cries out, like a child. "I was just helping you out, Spidey! You should be thanking me!"

Now, Peter can hear the smug grin on the man's face, and this time he can't help the bitter sigh that escapes, as he turns to send a heated glare. "Fuck off, Iron Lad."

He can practically see his eyebrows raise, even through the emotionless mask and the man laughs, loudly, his voice higher pitched with pure amusement as he says, "Oh ho ho, Man! What's got you in a piss poor mood, huh? Having a bad Spidey day, Spider-Man?"

Peter's nostrils flare, and he has to physically hold back the words that long to spill from his mouth, tasting bitter on his tongue, flames licking at his lungs. "Police?" He asks instead, glancing away to glare at the stones below him, his hands clenched hard into fists.

"On the way, eta maaybe two minutes?"

"Then let's go." Peter doesn't wait for an answer, shooting a web off into the distance and yanking himself away, huffing out a breath when he hears the very clear, "Sir, yes sir!" And the echo of replusors sound from behind him, following him like they always do.

"If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes,

I know you wanna go to heaven but you're human tonight,"

Peter swings for a while, trying to ignore, pretend that the metallic sounds of blasters aren't following him, hoping that eventually, the man, that Harley would get the hint and leave him the fuck alone today, but after a while, he realizes that won't happen and lands on the top of a building, crashing to the ground a little rougher than necessary, feeling his bubbling anger, annoyance rising higher and higher in his chest.

"Finally," The suit groans out, landing right beside Peter on the rooftop before flailing his arms out dramatically. "I thought you were never gonna stop, jeez."

"I'm on patrol." Peter growls out, going to the edge of the rooftop to look down and focus his hearing, to make sure he doesn't miss any moments, any crime that he needs to stop, almost wishing, itching that there was some so he could get away from the man encased in metal. He doesn't know why his presence is bugging him so much today- he's normally annoying, sure but not this much, never this bad- but it is and Peter just longs to get away (even as a part of him begs to get closer).

The man just huffs, his neon purple eyes seeming stare into Peter's soul incredulously. "Thats never stopped you before." When Peter just ignores him, the man takes a step forward and his helmet retracts, the face of the one and only Harley Stark- son to Tony Stark, heir to Stark industeies and the main pain in Peters ass for the last eight months- scrunched up with a weird mix of childish annoyance and worry that makes him look constipated. "Seriously, Spidey. What's going on? Are you okay?"

The real concern that slips into the mans tone makes Peter's insides twist, but he ignores it as he spits out, "Why do you care? Thought you only cared about yourself?"

Its intentionally rude, and he knows it hits its mark when a pang of hurt runs across Harley's features before it disappears back into a blank slate so similar to the one his father wears for the same reason, to hide the pain. "You know that's not true." Even his voice has gone back to painfully neutral, and any satisfaction Peter anticipated to feel is overwhelmed by a sickening guilt that poisons him from the inside out, twists his stomach and makes him feel nauseous.

He should apologize, he knows, but he's still- he still feels the burning, the fire under his skin, in his bloodstream, charring his lungs, molten lava in his veins, and he can't stop the sour words from slipping past his lips, with a faint mocking laugh. "Do I?"

"I thought you did." He mutters, his usually bright, summer day skies eyes darkening as a storm cloud passes by, rumbling with a thunder that makes Peter's heart thump heavily in his chest. "I know you do. I know you don't really like me, I get that, but you normally aren't this much of a dick about it. This isn't you."

Peter just laughs again, bitter and twisted and wrong sounding, even to himself. "You don't know me. You don't know anything about me."

He says, "oo baby girl, don't get caught on my edges,

I'm the king of everything, you know my tongue is a weapon,"

Harley's eyes just narrow more, his jaw clenching, and Peter can see his words are started to get to him, his fingers twitching and his shoulders raising. Good. "I think I know more about you than you think."

"Do you?" Peter snorts, shaking his head in exasperation as he glances over to the man, glaring, the fire burning brighter, flames licking at his throat. "Say, what do you know about me?"

"I know your kind," He starts, scowling, counting on his fingers as if Peter is a child that he's lecuring. "I know you're considerate. I know you put everyone else before yourself, because you think somehow, subconsciously that your life is worth less than others. I know you feel guilty for something that happened in the past, and try to better yourself because of it. I know you care, much more than you let on." Peter snorts, trying to ignore the emotions and raw feelings bubbling in his throat, and Harley just continues, ignoring it. "I may not know your name, or your face, or your- your identity but I know you, Spidey. And this," He makes a waving motion at Peter's body, "whatever this is, it isn't you. So Explain. What's going on?"

He's almost pleading, now, begging for Peter to tell him and the masked man almost longs to tell him, but honestly, he doesn't even know what's wrong. He's felt this burning, this itch for something since he woke up, and as the day went on, he grew more and more irritated, irate, a chemical reaction gone wrong, Harley acting as a catalyst and speeding up the reaction until now, its starting to explode, bubbling over the glass and creating a mess of emotions.

Peter can't tell him that, though, can't tell him that he's being a dick for nothing, so he just shrugs him off, looking away again and muttering a quick, "Nothing."

He can almost feel the tension in the air rise, turning thick as Harley bristles and flares, "Let me help you, for fucks sake!"

"Maybe I don't want you to help me!" Peter sparks back, whipping his head back around to glare at the man, the energy high, electric around them.

"There's a light in the crack, that separates your thighs,

And if you wanna go to heaven, you should fuck me tonight,"

"Oh, no. You do." Harley sneers, stepping forward, closer to Peter. "You do, you're just too much of a coward to admit it."

Peter rolls up his mask to his nose, and glares heavily at the man, taking a step towards him in retaliation. "Middle school insults, really?"

"Only telling the truth." Another step forward. "You're a coward who tries to hide his true feelings and pretend they don't even, even though you know they do."

"Oh yeah?" Another step, and suddenly, they're face to face, their noses millimeters apart, almost brushing in their proximity. "Say that again, I dare you."

Harley takes the bait, leaning in closer until Peter can feel his air on his lips, their breath mixing. "You're a coward, Spider-Man."

And Peter thinks he's going to punch him. His fists are clenched, his body is tense, he's bracing himself to do it. But instead, he finds himself grabbing his shoulders tightly and pushing their lips together, his mind whirling as the reaction bubbles over and the flame in his chest ignites into a wildfire, bright and untamable as Harley kisses back just as heavily, just as intensely, pressing him back back back until his back is pushed against a brick wall. Their lips don't disconnect, their heads turning and tongue swirling as Harley's hands roam up and down Peter's suit, over his arms, chest and abs, Peter's moan being swallowed into Harley's mouth, only to be reciprocated moments later.

The kiss breaks only to allow Peter to jump into Harleys arms, his legs wrapped around and sticking to the waist of the metal suit and his arms around his neck before theyre reconnected again, sucking face and groaning into each others mouths.

"My place?" The blond asks, voice muddled by lips and tongue and teeth, and Peter only nods instead of answering, pressing his face into his neck to leave marks, bites and bruises as the other man wraps his arms around his waist and under his ass, before the repulsors start back up and they fly away, towards the giant looming tower in the distance.

And I've been sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool, for a while now,

Drowning my thoughts out with the sounds,

Peter blinks awake slowly, hearing the faint whisper of a fan and a steady mechanical hum and feeling the satin, silk sheets beneath his fingertips. He turns his head slowly, his brain still groggy as he sees the other man, Harley beside him, his ryestalk hair askew and his face lax, more youthful than Peter's ever seen it, the sheet only covering to halfway up his chest, the rest out in the open, bare outside of the bright red marks still covering his skin. He flushes slightly as the memory's return from the night before, or, evening? He looks to the large, floor to ceiling windows beside the bed to see that it's still nighttime, the bright moonlight shining in through the clear glass, the pale blinds and illumating the room, casting shadows onto Harley's features and making him look... softer, ethereal, such a contrast to his sharp words and his even sharper personality. He finds he likes it, the softer, gentler look, and finds himself staring for a few moments, taking the moment in before he sits up slowly, making sure not to awaken the other man, and stands.

He finds a pair of pants on the floor, and a shirt he isn't sure is clean or dirty, throwing them both on before noticing a glass door, leading out into a balcony on the other side of the room. He had remembered landing somewhere early, hazily, though he obviously wasnt focused on it. It must've been there. He finds himself drawn to it, tiptoeing quietly over to the door and sliding it open before stepping outside, and taking a large inhale of the chilled air. He moves to the railing of the balcony, listening to the faint breeze of the late August winds, the car horns and honks in the distance, stares down at the still busseling, still alive city below them, not really focusing on anything, not really thinking, just breathing, feeling, living.

That must be why he doesn't hear the other man stirring, or hear him approch until the door behind him clicks open again. Peter doesn't turn around, doesn't have to, just continuing to watch the cars drive by until two arms wrap around his waist, gently, warily, until a, now clothed, chest is pressed against his back, and a chin rests on his shoulder. Peter just exhales, leaning back into the other mans grip, feeling more relaxed, more at ease than he has in a while, longer than he can remember.

Do you feel like a young god?

You know the two of us are just young gods,

"Do you ever..." Peter doesn't know when, or why, he starts to speak, doesn't think of what he says as he murmurs, hushed, low, a whisper, "feel like a young god? With these powers, the suits, the- the responsibility..." Harley just hums, faintly, and they start to sway, subtle, gentle back and forth motions, back and forth, like waves cascading onto a beach. "They all look up to me. The people, the city. They all-" Peter shakes his head, sighing lightly, airy. "And sometimes I just... sometimes I just don't know if I'm enough, you know? Sometimes I just..."

"Need a break." The other man finishes, murmurs, his lips brushing against Peter's cheek and sends tingles down his back.

"I-I guess so, yeah." There's a few moments, a few seconds where they just sit in the comfortable silence, where Peter glances up at the smog filled sky, seeing a few stars shining through, the almost full moon gleaming brightly down at them.

Before, "Let me help, baby." Harley whispers, pleads, and Peter goes to protest but the blond beats him to it. "You're burnt out, constantly saving the city, saving the world, constantly being the punching bag for everyone else, let me help. Please, Peter," And that was something new, too, Harley knowing his name, knowing his face, knowing him through and through, though he knows the other man won't tell, won't share, turning his head with easy fingers to look him in the eye, his ocean blues almost neon in the glow of the moon. "Let me help you."

They stare at each other, flickering from eye to eye for a few beats, a few thumps in Peter's chest, and he doesn't answer, not really, just lowers his head and places it onto Harley's chest, into the crook of his neck, but his lack of an answer is answer enough. The older man just presses a drawn out kiss onto the top of his head, and holds him closer, a non spoken thank you that sends Peter reeling, unused to the feeling of care, of concern, of love.

And yet, surrounded by strong arms and held closely to a firm chest, Peter feels at his strongest, feels comforted, known, feels safe. He closes his eyes, and just breathes, let's himself have this moment of calm and quiet in the arms of his love.

And we'll be flying through the streets, with the people underneath,

And they're running, running, running...

[seatights5-blog]

The particular Subtle Symphony of this Winery

Anyone who has proved helpful in a winery with regard to any length of period learns there is certainly one audio, more than any other, that will is quickly, pump-stoppingly, drop-what-you-are-doing, alarming: the sound of fresh falling on typically the floor. That has a certain timbre, a splash noise that conjures up every one of the disasters one has seen around wineries. I've read it a hundred times and it by no means ends to make me prevent and raise my scalp similar to a gazelle mid-feed. Being unfaithful moments out of eight it's not shout about – a good bucket overflowing with water or perhaps a harness left slightly wide open – nonetheless those aren't the particular images that spring immediately to mind. I've curved some sort of corner to discover a reservoir being filled with white juice by the bottom valve, but the user (in this specific case the winemaker) acquired left the other control device (known generally as often the racking valve – normally a good meter or thus higher than its comparable version – open). Juice was initially pouring out of often the sphincter muscle, onto the terrain, and down the drain. Related reports: The Less likely Making regarding a Winemaker Crediting this Winemaker Where it can Owing Accountants Calling the particular Shots at Wineries Little water prior to crash Tanks staying overfilled have a stormy dash sound as their attributes work with wine that in that case drops off their own reduced circumference and on top of the floor. Overflowing juice tubs, stuffed as presses seriously set out to exert some strain in the grapes inside, overflow by having an almost unstoppable chute. I wish to to say these people make a waterfall audio nevertheless I think which is just the impression that they give. That they splash, these people splash like all drink and wine that gets the floor. Heard a good splashing sound throughout a new winery that lasts longer when compared with three seconds and you head out to check out. Winemakers are accustomed to using their noses in addition to their eye (and their own palate) in a vineyard – it matches the career. If you don't aroma a new reductive ferment (one when the yeast is not necessarily totally happy) from the particular top of the aquarium, it won't be extended before a person leave often the vineyard flooring to smell this. Its not necessary some sort of winemaking course to know that if anyone see a spread-out enamel of crimson on the ground, some red wines has gone astray. Nonetheless sounds? If the minute regarding opening your container could be the pop of the cork or the scratch regarding a screwcap, used by reverential silence as well as the glug of the pour, then the winery is the some other section of this. Often the vineyard is full of sounds. It is relentless. The idea can be (during harvest) high in volume. Many wineries rely on products, on motive power, cooling systems and on compressed weather. Air flow compressors make the hell of any noise : I've also worked within a new vineyard where the compressed air has been created by way of a diesel powered engine unit – the kind utilized for roadworks. Air-conditioning units are inaudible generally, but stand up close and they create a noisy rumble. Cooling down The very best Wine Valets to Travel Your chosen Bottles are quiet yet the pumps that press the coolant all around often the winery make some sort of unremitting hum. Bag presses blow up and decompress with the lots of noise – in addition to they likewise click, faucet, whirr, complain and grumble as they rotate. A few have alarms that will appear every time they may be on the verge of rotate. Forklifts beep, whirr and clatter. Penis pumps sound, whinge and rattle. Grape trucks rumble together with pule pipe yaup and dump berries with a huge thump and even sprinkle. Hydraulic receival bins (where trucks and trailers eliminate the grapes) now have a low-frequency whine; his or her augers a new drone; this crusher-destemmer can produce some sort of variety of noises ~ a good relentless metronomic clang will be a sign something will be not right, for case – although commonly audio like a large slip drier would if that were removed of almost any external cladding and geared-up to move double the swiftness. A must water pump (in case you hadn't recognized, we're following the vineyard through the production method of most traditional wineries) is typically a good silent element of kit in comparison with it has the stablemates – it will emit a fairly higer pitched whine should you tune in hard – but since these kinds of, any noise from using it, possibly be that the suck-slosh sound of it running dried up and also the chug of that working hard, is actually cause for alarm. Filling a new fermenter for red wine beverages usually begins with a new thump-bang-spatter because grape have to hits the ground of typically the tank and primarily information outwards. As the tank is filling, it is definitely, reasonably speaking, a muted event. But a little is often a signal the must collection (winery grape/wine hoses plus hoses are known as "lines" – the term "hose" is usually reserved for water – features pushed itself out of the tank with the force of the have to coming out of it and even has decided to expell it has the contents on to the ground. This can and will do come about. The sound involving dripping solution is rarely a good register a winery. © BFL | The sound of leaking liquid is seldom a great sign in a vineyard. Tends to make me wanna yell And from now on would be a good time for you to talk regarding shouting. In most instances, this involves screaming "stop often the pump". In a huge winery, this is certainly generally a new forlorn endeavor and this witness must proceed along with hurry (but definitely not excessive haste) to the agent in question. In small jobs, this cry commonly has got the desired effect : every person hits the stop-button nearby to them. Or perhaps sometimes typically the noise regarding whatever possesses happened is definitely enough – as in the particular case of me personally going down through a ladder ditch in some scaffolding – plus the closest to person shouts "are anyone ok? inch, despite certainly not seeing precisely what had transpired. I keep in mind one occasion as soon as, midway through rolling some sort of fermenter cover through the vineyard a associate shouted "Guys! " This was adopted by another, louder "GUYS! " (a second holler is a surefire signal something is amiss). Most of us all went to find the dog wrestling with a new tank control device the deal with had connected around together with popped opened. He was initially saturated in fermenting Sauvignon Blanc. But shouts happen to be like sounds – mostly, you know when it's an disaster, or if something went wrong. My spouse and i can't explain that, nonetheless you get an head for this. Like a Bucher 150 push losing front door seal at 2 pub. I probably should make clear this so you get often the full picture. The Bucher 150 is the somewhat common cylindrical bladder click. It is essentially a stainless steel tube divided down this middle by a large bag. Guiding the tote goes often the compressed surroundings that is used to squash the bag from the grapes (which are with lack of of the bag) and the drink functions off down about seven drainage channels into the hit tray. There are also a pair of doors on this fruit area of the particular press. They allow it to be emptied and permit people to climb in clean it. The doors happen to be about half the size of some sort of regular door. They fall, and so are sealed pneumatically versus the outside the press. This press runs, at the upper level, with a tension of 2 bar, or 200kPa, or 29lbs for each square inch. I is not going to go ahead to how and even so why this took place (it had been operator miscalculation ~ to a qualification: the heart and soul was that in the event you flicked concerning automatic together with guide method in the previous models, you always risked shedding door seal) yet, via my desk, now there got a double-BOOM, some sort of whoosh like a fly plane all of a sudden appearing cost, put into practice, events later, by means of what sounded like rain on the tin roof (it was actually half-dried Pinot Gris skins falling from the sky). I searched on the lab technical assistant, this lab technical viewed with me, and that we ran outside. This is a bit about sounds so We won't describe the landscape. Be adequate to say that will weeks in the future, when the idea rained, we'd even now come across Pinot Gris cases forthcoming out of the guttering using the rainwater. Not most sounds are usually bad nevertheless – many are happy. The particular rhythmic slosh of a great irrigator wetting the hat of fermenting Cabernet or perhaps Merlot; often the squelch, are terrible, fizz regarding plunging a fermenting limitation of Pinot Noir; the beeping of timers in the research laboratory; the scrape of a new stirrer in a gun barrel involving Chardonnay; the scream of "standby", the reply associated with "standing by", in addition to the "stop" of topping a tank. Days of homemade wine and Boses And then there is certainly the stereo. Almost all of my personal European vintages have been completed in relative silence as long as music went. In quite a few wineries we may well include a portable radio, nonetheless mostly generally there wasn't songs. When Anyone that Loves Wine Ought To be able to Study This received to help the SouthernHemisphere, even though, the first vintage surprise was initially seeing two audio system the size of banano boxes hanging from the eaves, overlooking the push area. The music streamed out there as we performed, from start to evening, red and white, we all listened to everything. Together with I adored it : I still do. In most of the New Globe wineries I have worked well in, we have seen a audio system in each work area (barrel hall, vineyard, lab). Some, though, get it very seriously. Central Otago winemaker Dean Shaw presides over reputedly the best stereo system in the location together with a huge repository that goes into terabytes. They has rules although. You need to play an album inside their entirety, for illustration. In addition to Rage Against This Machine is definitely banned. Because, undoubtedly for the majority of wineries (once everyone's Spotify has recently been exhausted), the radio gets the particular fall-back, there are songs I actually powerfully keep company with vintages. Sedona by Houndmouth is old-fashioned 2015. This year, it will be Run Crazy by means of Brand-new Zealand team Racing. As I write, this can be late in the evening. Just about Great Wine and Good Mood offers curbside pickup is quiet spend less typically the hiss outside involving compressed air bleeding by itself from the process together with my post-rock COMPACT DISK playing on the clinical stereo. In a few days the essential contraindications silence will certainly return and even, to always be honest, I'm definitely not totally looking forward to it.

[slushrottweiler]

Vesuvia University Institute of Medicine and Magic: Kink and Fetish Study

Chapter 3: The use of vibrating paraphernalia and its effect on improved phone interactions

The latest chapter in my smutastic sex study fic, featuring every one favourite Disaster Doctor, and apprentice Terra. For today's @smutember entry "Quickie" and "Toys"

...

Holy fuckstick that is a lot of cock!

Laid out in a neat row on her bed was the largest collection of sex toys Terra had ever seen outside of the internet.  The assorted rainbow of coloured paraphernalia varied wildly in shape, size and materials. From simple peach-toned dildo to a sleek glass phallus, to the three-pronged pink monstrocity with a variety of attachable ridges, textured sleeves and seven-speed vibration settings; it would seem that every kind of penetrative sex toy had been included in Terra's recent parcel. 

She picked up a vibrator at random; this one a stylish mauve with artistic curves meant to pleasure both the clit and g-spot. After fiddling with the settings, the device began to whirr softly and Terra let out a bark of laughter. She dug her phone from her back pocket and dialled the most recent number on her register. If she was honest, her call and text log was mostly just this one number.

The call was answered on the second ring, and Terra didn't wait for a hello before chiming in.

'Why the fuck did I just receive a bouquet of cocks?' 

Terra heard Doctor Julian Devorak choke on the other end of the line. She was beginning to enjoy startling the man.

[[MORE]]

'Terra! I ahh... um well you see... ah hang on.' Julian stuttered, and Terra switched off the purple vibrator as she flopped down amongst her new presents. A technicoloured toy shaped like a 'roided out flower bumped into her forehead and she batted it away.

She could hear the doctor shuffling, then a door closing tightly and Julian clearing his throat. 'Sorry, I'm in my office now. Did you just say you received a severed appendage?'

Terra cackled, 'No! I got a box of dildos, you twit.'

'Oh! Well that is far less disturbing. Why didn't you just say that my dear? You know how to scare a man!' Julian's voice relaxed noticeably and Terra let a smile start to form on her lips.

'We sent them to you to try out. Experiment with alternate stimuli, that kinda thing.' He continued.

'You want me to use ALL of THEM?' Terra sat bolt upright on her bed and looked around at the sea of dicks that surrounded her. 'I don't even know what some of these are! Like, what the actual fuck is this spirally one supposed to be?'

Terra picked up a glittery silver vibrator, that tapered off into a corkscrew. It had a heavy knob at the base and what appeared to be a large suction cup. The button at the base triggered the motor, and it began spinning wildly, startling a cry from Terra. She could hear Julian laughing on the other end of the line.

‘I think that one is supposed to be a unicorn cock?’ he chortled.

‘What?’ Terra squawked, tossing the toy across the bed.

Between chuckles, Julian managed to respond. ‘I thought you’d enjoy the whimsy of it.’

‘You picked me out a magic horse dick!’

He choked on his own laughter and Terra grinned from her side of the call. She switched off the unicorn dildo and pushed it to the far side of her penis rainbow. If she was honest with herself, she’d always been fascinated by the creative variety of sex toys but had been too chicken to purchase any of the more outlandish models. With that in mind, she could guess that a few other toys were based on the reproductive organs of various mythical beasts. 

‘Well they’d make a good talking point for dinner parties.’ Julian suggested.

‘Yeah,’ Terra laughed, ‘I’ll just place this flower dick on a bookshelf and see how many people think its modern art.’

‘I genuinely dare you to do that.’

The two snickered together at their own joke. Terra brushed her hand over the toys, eventually settling on the rabbit-eared one that had caught her eye. This one was a smooth silicone toy, the kind of high end design that tried its best not to appear like a penis. Deep, luxurious red; she stroked the length of it, pleased to find it had no seams on the shaft, or clit stimulator. She turned it over in her hands, pressing a button at random. 

A soft hum filled the space. This toy didn’t rotate, simply quivered in her grip. She could control the speed of each independent motor of the toy, and she experimented by rotating between intensities and rhythms. She switched her phone onto speaker to test out the sensation on the palm of her hand. 

The vibration tingled through her fingers and up her arm, a rolling rhythm that made her eyelids flutter when she pressed it into a sore joint of her hand. 

‘I think I’ve found my favourite.’ She mumbled absently.

There was a sharp gasp from the phone. ‘You’re trying them out now?’ Julian asked.

Terra turned and flopped down on her pillow beside the phone. She waggled the toy at the device, as though Julian could see it.

‘Just against my palm. If nothing else, it’ll do wonders for my hand cramps.’ 

‘Well that’s something. Which one is it?’ Julian asked.

Rather than answer, Terra scooped up the phone and snapped a quick picture of herself, posing ridiculously with the vibrator held against her cheek. A few of the other toys could be seen at the edges of the frame, but mostly it was just a closeup shot of her goofy pout and the red vibe. Without thinking, she sent the photo to Julian.

‘I don’t know the name, its this red one.’ She explained.

‘There are three different red ones.’ 

‘Yeah I know. Is red your favourite colour or something?’ Terra teased.

‘Mahogany actually, but red is rather –’ he trailed off when the bing of an incoming text signaled, and Terra grinned at the ceiling as she imagined his gobsmacked face. She thought she heard a strangled groan, but it was gone in a rumble of chuckles. 

‘That is… unreasonably adorable.’ Julian declared. His voice was pitched a bit lower, possibly to keep the volume down. 

‘What can I say? I am just a bundle of cuteness.’ She replied sarcastically. 

‘Yeah...’ Julian trailed off with a sigh. 

Moments tricked by in silence, and Terra checked her phone to see if the call had dropped. Tapping the still-active toy against her shoulder, she asked, ‘So, do I need to take notes on them or something?’

Julian cleared his throat before responding. ‘Yes, if you like. Otherwise you can call me, and I can record the data. You could film it if you were comfortable with that.’

‘Yeah, nah.’ Terra said. ‘So you’d guide me through it?’ 

The line between them seemed suddenly heavy with tension. Julian hadn’t been present for any guided masturbation sessions since ‘The Car Incident’, as Terra had been calling it. They’d still met up plenty, but their experiments had been self-guided, with Julian taking on the role of silent observer. It hadn’t yielded as consistent a response as their previous tests, and a part of Terra was itching for the doctor to have a more active roll.

‘Um no.’ Julian answered, and Terra tried not to feel disappointed. ‘But we can angle it a different way. I’m looking to progress the angle that you respond more to the actual speech than who is saying what. Less instruction kink and more a voice kink. So we can try you describing to me what you are doing, and I can take down the notes.’

The idea of describing herself getting off to Julian did have some appeal, but not as much as she would have liked. Still, she was being paid to try these things out, and the idea of Julian listening in as she got off had its perks. She wondered if maybe, late at night when he was tired and not thinking quite so straight; did he get off on the images of her he had seen that day? Did he think about her touching herself, think about touching her himself . 

She turned the vibrator over in her palm. Terra knew she shouldn’t be hoping for things like that. Julian was her supervising doctor for Christ’s sake. But… she still wanted him to want her. Just as much as she did. Which was cruel and wrong and not something she should be thinking about. She needed to get this out of her head, focus her mind on something else.

‘Are you busy now?’

‘Huh? Wha, no not really.’ Julian stuttered adorably.

Terra reclined back on her bed, kicking the other toys onto the floor and settling comfortably in a warm patch of sunlight. She switched the vibrator onto its lowest setting and touched it gently to the exposed skin of her thigh. The tiny tremors were pleasant and just a little naughty, and she let out a low hum as she traced the vibrating tip in random patterns.

‘That’s good doc. Don’t want you working too hard.’ Her own voice had slowed, turned thick and smooth like honey.  

‘I’ll have you know I maintain a very healthy work/life balance.’ 

That earned a lazy snort from Terra, who let her eyelids flutter shut -- to focus completely on the sound of Julian’s voice and the rumbling vibrations. 

‘Which is why you’re constantly found asleep at your desk?’ 

‘Well maybe my desk is just surprisingly comfortable.’ 

‘I’ll have to test that for myself doc.’ Terra purred, and she heard Julian swallow thickly over the line. With a shiver, Terra dragged the toy up her thigh until it skimmed the edge of her denim cut-offs. She skimmed the tip against her inner thigh as goosebumps trailed in its wake.

‘Would you like that my dear?’ Fuck, Julian’s voice had taken on that deep tone he used when he instructed her. She couldn’t tell if he did it on purpose; if he was teasing or serious, but the sound had anticipation coiling in her stomach and heat pooling between her legs.

‘And if I did?’ Terra purred back, ‘Maybe I want to imagine being laid out across your desk. Spread across it like a dream.’

Carefully, so she didn’t jostle her phone from where it balanced on the pillow beside her, Terra unsnapped her shorts and kicked them away. Her underwear was already damp, and she immediately pressed firmly down on her aching clit. A low groan escaped as she massaged the aching bud through the light cotton, her other hand still ghosting the vibrator against her skin. 

When Julian spoke again, he sounded torn between arousal and frustration. ‘Damnit Terra, that’s not --’

‘It’s just a fantasy doc. Isn’t that why you sent me this box of toys? To let me play?’ This was the first time Terra had taken such a talkative role in their sessions, and the sound of Julian’s breathing growing laboured was a jolt to her system. 

‘Is that what you’re doing? Playing with me?’ he groaned.

Terra smirked. ‘Well, right now I’m playing with myself.’ As if to punctuate her words, Terra turned the vibration setting up, so the rumbling buzz sounded louder in the quiet afternoon space. She slid the tip under the seam of her underwear, stroking it back and forth until a full body shudder rolled over her. She heard Julian curse quietly.

‘How about it doc? Wanna play with me?’

‘Terra…’ he dragged out her name, a warning mixed with a plea.

‘Come on. For science…’ Terra knew she was treading a very fine line. She was probably stepping over it. But right now, with the ache between her legs and the sound of Julian’s breath in her ear, she couldn’t seem to help herself.

‘Fuck. You will be the death of me.’ Julian hissed and a breathless laugh escaped Terra as she realised she had won. As if this was the signal she had been waiting for, Terra pulled aside her underwear and finally pressed the vibrator fully against her clit.

Her back arched off the bed on impact, a shaky gasp mixing with Julian’s groan. Not wanting to go slowly, she rubbed the rumbling vibe fully against her clit, hips bucking up to meet the toy. It wasn’t hard to imagine Julian’s attention fully fixed on her, knowing he was listening with rapt attention from the other end of the call.

‘Tell me what you’re doing Terra.’ Julian asked. His words shook as he spoke, and it only egged Terra on. 

‘For science?’ She teased and revelled in the snarl that echoed through the phone.

 ‘Just tell me, please.’ he begged and oh, that was a new and exciting sound.

Terra dragged the toy down over folds until it was coated in her slick. Lining up the shuddering tip with her entrance, Terra pressed the toy into her slowly, letting the pleasure of her being stretched fill her voice.

‘It’s inside me.’ she panted once it was pushed to the hilt. The two soft ears settled easily on either side of her clit, and she quickly cycled through the patterns to find a roiling pulse that made her toes curl. ‘Fuck it fills me up so well.’

‘Gods Terra.’ Julian huffed and she started to move.

Keeping her wrist action steady, Terra slowly eased the toy in and out of her. As she panted, she quickened the pace, letting the toy press up against her g-spot with ever push. She was so wet, it glided easily in and out.

‘I’m going slow. Its… fuck, its bigger than I thought it would be.’ humming low in her throat, she sped up slightly, meeting her own movements with a thrust of her hips. Julian groaned, and a loud thump sounded, as though he had just slammed his head back against a wall.

‘It feels so good doc. Reaches all the right spots.’ she murmured, turning her head so it faced the phone beside her head. Julian’s voice was tinny through the speaker, and was muffled, like he was holding the phone close to his lips. God, now Terra was thinking about his lips. Firm and pink, and so quick to quirk into a sly smile. She could see him in her mind’s eye, leaning over her on all fours as she plunged the toy deeper, pressing the ears more firmly against her clit.

Julian swallowed hard. ‘Does it fill you up darling?’

Terra’s reply was a whimper and an increase in speed. Her hips jerked up as she fucked herself harder with the vibrator Julian had picked out for her. The steady buzz mixed with the wet slap of silicone meeting skin. Her own gasps seemed to reverberate off the walls of her bedroom, but she was focused solely on the quiet sounds coming from her phone. There was a clack of metal and fuck… was that a zipper.

‘Julian…’ Terra gasped and the doctor gifted her with a full blown moan that had her grip tightening on the toy. ‘Julian, are you…’

‘Don’t.’ he groaned, and she strained to hear the sounds in the background of Julian’s call. A steady thumping blended with his panting breaths, keeping time with her own actions. 

‘Just,’ Julian continued through his teeth, ‘Just dont stop.’ he groaned.

Terra moaned, her free hands gripping her hair as she fucked herself harder. ‘I won’t. I can’t stop.’

The sounds of sex bounced between them, Terra’s moans turning to heady pants as she pushed herself higher. She was so wet now, her own slick coated the toy and her own fingers. Sunlight warmed her quivering legs as her imagination melded with the sounds Julian made. 

With a particularly strong thrust, Terra all but squealed and arched of the bed, throwing her head back as the vibrations pulsed through her. Her actions disrupted her phone, which slid away and fell off the pillow. Instantly she whimpered at the loss, eyes snapping open to flail madly across her bed until she could scoop it up again. Quickly tapping it off speaker, she pressed the mobile against her ears and whimpered in pleasure at effect. It was like Julian was panting right in her ear, like he was pressed against her and the sounds pumped heat into her blood.

‘Don’t go.’ She begged without thinking. She pressed the phone harder as she slammed the toy into her aching cunt. “I’m getting close…’

‘I’m not going anywhere darling.’ Julian groaned on the other end of the line. ‘I’m right there… with you.’

“Fuck Julian. Fuck, fuck, fuuucckkk…’ Curses and pleas tumbled from Terra as she neared the edge. Julian moaned along with her, his cries muffled like he was biting his lip. Screwing her eyes shut tightly, Terra let herself sink into the vibrations of the toy and his voice, until she felt like she was wound so tightly she would snap.

‘Oh fuck, I’m cumming!’ The words ripped out of Terra and she came. Her orgasm smashed into her, hot and quick, with the sounds of Julian's gurgled moans filling her head. Her whole body seemed to shudder as the vibrations pushed her over, mouth open wide in a perfect silent O.

It took a minute for Terra’s brain to reboot. She slid the toy out of her with a quiet squelch, turning it off and letting it drop beside her without a care for the sheets. Considering how wet she was, she would have to change them anyway. Heavy panting came from the other end of the line, and Terra wondering if it was just an echo from her own ragged breathing of if it was really Julian who was so out of breath. 

‘Well,’ Julian cleared his throat before he spoke. He did sound a little out of it. ‘I think we’ve found your new favourite toy.’

In her orgasm-fried state, Terra just threw her head back and laughed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Julian stared at the phone he had just hung up. The standard call screen closed after a moment, revealing the last thing he had looked at besides the call. Filling the screen was a picture of his patient, pouting ridiculously. Her hair was spread out against her pillow in a vivid green halo, amber eyes flashing with mischief in the afternoon light. And poking her in the cheek was a deep red vibrator, its dual ends just visible in the shot.

The very same vibrator he had just listened to her get herself off with. A sex toy he had bought her.

Because she was a Patient in a Study HE was supposed to be supervising.

Looking down at himself, Julian cringed at the sight. His fist was still clenched around the base of his cock, softening after he had come hard to the sinful sounds coming from the girl he couldn’t seem to get out of his head. His own cum was splattered against the dark denim of his jeans, hanging low on his hips from where he had pushed it out of the way just enough to free himself. 

Dropping his head back against his shut office door, Julian covered his eyes with his arm, and groaned.

He was well and truly fucked.

[sander-sides-stories]

Chapter one

Chapter one is finally here! If anyone wants to review chapters for me before I post them, feel free to message me at this blog, @virgil-the-anxious-anxiety, @thomas-the-great, or @zeliahoutcast! I don’t have a name for this au yet. Meet the boys Logan and Virgil!

“Entry class P, subclass A, number 38. The fire appears to have given the soil nutrients for new plants to emerge. Small to medium sized animals have returned.” The android continues to report his discoveries to seemingly no one. Occasionally, when the android collects a sample, he beeps.

A small, feral boy spots the android. He sneaks up behind it, nearly silent, to watch the unfamiliar creature work. He wasn’t expecting the android to detect him.

With two beeps, the android stopped scanning various plant life and spun their torso around to face the boy who had set off his alarm, whirring as he did so. It’s eyes darting around until they rested on the creature behind him. Virgil had no idea what the android was doing. They beep as they scan him, eyes lighting up, and forcing a smile. "Hello, humanoid."

Virgil jumps back and hisses, mostly out of fear. He stills and remains tense, ready to fight or flee because this strange creature made unusual noises. These creatures that made strange sounds were usually trying to take him to places that had frightening barriers, food, and nests.

The android spun his legs around, taking a step back from the creature. "Need not be afraid. What is your number? I'm designation L064N. Or, ‘Logan’ for short."

The boy slowly relaxes and creeps forward. "... Num?" He tilts his head as he tries to mimic the unusual creature's words. He stops a few feet away, close enough to touch, but far enough away to run should the creature making familiar noises try to grab him. "Mmm... Loon?" He tilts his head more.

The android blinked, processing Virgil’s attempt to speak.. "No, not-" He played back the recording of what the creature had called him- "I'm Logan. Lo-gan. What are you?" he tried to ask again.

"Loo... Ain. " He sits down and looks entranced by the android. He lets out a happy sigh as he somewhat successfully mimics the creature's words.

Logan nodded once. "That was 64% accurate, so, as my mechanics like to say, close enough." He turned around again, making another loud whirr noise as he went back to scanning the area. Suddenly his arm beeped, and a transmission came through, telling him to return to the ship. "Yes, sir. On my way," he told the captain over the transmission before nodding at the creature. "One day you will be educated enough to say my name properly." He told the humanoid before turning around and walking back to the starcraft.

Virgil tilts his head as the strange creature walked away. He follows the android to the ship, keeping a good distance away in case the strange creature decided to turn around and grab him.

Logan entered the ship, nodding once at the human crew members in a practiced manner as he was taught to do before. He hadn’t noticed the creature following him as his mind too preoccupied with downloading information of the planet. He walked down halls, nodding at more crew members until he reached his own charging room, starting to type away at the super computers as he quietly muttered to himself.

Virgil somehow manages to sneak onto the ship and he wanders around, avoiding as many of the intimidating creatures as possible. He ends up finding himself in some empty, unused room. He explores it, and after finding the bed's unusual texture was nice, he falls asleep on it.

Logan had been typing away on the computer for less five minutes. An alarm went off on his arm, notifying him of a potentially hostile life form on board. He blinked in confusion, telling the captain that he would take care of it as he left his room, walking briskly down the hall. After turning left and opening the door to chamber 147, his eyes lit up to shine a light on the life form, blinking in confusion when he realized it was the same creature from earlier. "Humanoid? Why did you come here?"

He wakes and yawns. The boy rubs at his eyes and blinks sleepily at the android. "Mmm... Lo-ain..." He sighs happily and stretches before pushing himself up into a sitting position.

"It's Logan. Why are you- Well, I suppose it's useless to ask you that. I keep forgetting not all humans are educated properly." He walked into the room, reaching to grab the creature's arm. "You must leave immediately. You lack the required authorization to be in this area."

He hisses when Logan grabs him. The boy seems to fully awaken and try to free his arm from the now terrifyingly strange creature's grip.

He picked up the creature with both hands, carrying it by the waist as he walked out of the room, other educated humans glancing at the panicking child warily. "You are not authorized to be here," he said again, walking down the hall towards one of the exits. "You belong on your planet."

Virgil continues wiggling in an attempt to get down and away from the scary creature. He claws at the androids hands as he grunts, hisses, and screeches in fear. Eventually he resorts to biting down on the android's arm.

The scratches and bites didn't affect Logan in any way due to the inability to feel pain. He reached the back of the ship, letting go of the humanoid, before realizing that the creature was stuck on his arm, teeth sinking into the synthetic skin. "Please get off my arm." After realizing the boy didn’t understand him, he instead attempted to shake the human off his arm, his shoulder making violent whirring noises.

The boy refuses to let go and instead wraps his arms around the android. He starts crying. Virgil didn't want to leave. It would mean staying with scratchy and painful nests and struggling to stay warm during the cold seasons, and when the season’s grew colder, food was harder to find. He didn't want that. So he kept his teeth in Logan’s arm and tightened his own arms around the android's.

The android blinked, stilling his arm when he realized that the shaking wasn't working. He glanced around, scanning the empty storage room for something he could use to get the creature off of him, but there wasn't anything he could use. He looked back down at the creature, tilting his head slightly. "Why are you so intent on staying? I would think you would want to be at your own planet. Aren't you..." He paused, searching his databanks to find the correct word. "Aren't you content at your own planet?"

He sniffs and looks the android in the eye, freeing the arm of his teeth. He's still crying as he sadly calls out "Looain. " he headbutts the android's arms.

He stared at the creature for a moment, thinking of his options. The creature most likely wanted to stay because it didn't want to be at its planet, for whatever reason. He could kill the creature, but he wasn't authorized to, and that would result in repercussions. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't be trouble to drop you off at the next planet." He raised his arm, talking into the radio. "The life form is proving to be mildly difficult. Permission to hold until next planet capable of sustaining life?" He got a yes in return, and he began to walk back to his room, not making an attempt to pull the human off of him.

Virgil walks with Logan, refusing to let go of his arm. "... Loo-dain?"

"It's Logan," he said again, entering his room. "Lo-gan. Lo-gan. It shouldn't be difficult." He began to type away at the computers again, this time searching for information of the type of humans that lived on the creature's planet. He needed some insight on how to take care of the thing before it was released.

He tries to make the "g" sound but the only thing that comes out is a high pitched "Huhhh"

"No. I don't know what that sound was, but it almost reached over eighty decibels. Please be careful." He found old records of the planet the creature was found on, but instead of reading them like he normally would, he simply stuck his finger in the USB port and downloaded the information, his eyes displaying the words and his mouth mumbling them at a high speed.

He continues trying because he'll get it, damnit! He watches to Logan's computer screen and reaches out to touch it. "Loo-hain, Lo! "

Logan was unresponsive for a moment as the information downloaded, before he jumped to life once again. "No. Logan. It's Lo-guh-an." He didn't understand the struggle of speaking, he was programmed with the ability to move his mouth properly when he was built. "Guh. Your tongue should press to the back of your mouth, the air that escapes pushing through to make the sound. Guh."

He watches and mimics the tongue movement. "Gahh."

Logan blinked at him. "Close enough." He walked away from the computers, once again trying to shake the creature off his arm as he walked to his desk. "Assuming you haven't lived with any colonies, considering your inability to form a sentence, you must have been abandoned at birth. I need to find you a proper home that specializes in untrained humans."

"Edias! Edias!" He bounces happen and repeats "Edias" as if it held some sort of meaning. He shakes Logan's hand. "Lo-gah-ain! Edias!,

Logan looked down at him, squinting in confusion. "Edias?" He searched the phrase in his mind, looking for any sort of record, but either there was no record of an 'Edias' or the creature didn't enunciate it properly. "Explain. What is Edias?"

The boy frowns. "Ho-me. Edias! Edias! E-Edi-o-lan?"

The android only squints, replaying the different variations of the phrase in his mind, putting them together until he could figure out how to spell the word by it's pronunciation.  "Edias. E-D-I-A-S. Is this correct?" he asked automatically, before realizing the creature probably didn't know. "Searching records for E-D-I-A-S. Edias." He became unresponsive, a few records showing up as he downloaded them all.

He whines and shakes Logan. He draws a shape in the air and says "Eddiolan. " he points in it and says "Ho-me."

He blinked in confusion, the creature's voice interrupting the search and download process. "Searching instead for: Eddiolan. Edias- Error. Scrapped. Uncompleted Command- RESTARTING... RESTARTING..." The lights in his eyes went dim as he slumped forward, before turning on again. "Welcome. Please wait while updates are put in place..."

Virgil screeches in fear as he lets go of the android. He runs to a corner and curls up in it as he silently watches the creature makes terrifyingly loud noises that hurt..

Logan stood there for a few moments, unmoving before he jumped to life again, looking around until he saw the creature. He gave a weak smile, scratching his neck as if he were embarrassed. Embarrassment? That was new, he must have been updated. "Apologies, human. What did you say again? Eddiolan? E-D-D-I-O-L-A-N?" He straightened up, eyes lighting up once more. "Searching for: E-D-D-I-O-L-A-N. Seven Records Found. Downloading..."

Virgil hisses as Logan continued to make weird noises. He curls up more and wraps his arms around his head.

"Downloading... Downloading... His eyes dimmed once more, and he looked at the human again. "Was 'Eddiolan' your colony? Did they abandon you, or did you run away? They don't seem to keep any records of their people... At least, not ones that have been found by any starcraft." He paused, realizing maybe the creature didn't understand. It looked afraid of him again. "Was 'Eddiolan' once your home?"

"Eddiolan! Ho-me! Hap ho-me..." He perks up and slowly creeps towards the android.

Logan sighed. "If Eddiolan was your home on your own planet, then why did you even come here? If you had a home..." He shook his head. This creature wasn't to be reasoned with. "Did you, erm..." What was the word? "Did you like it in the Eddiolan colony?" He didn't know why he kept asking the creature questions; he supposed it was because he was programmed to ask the nearest human a question if he wasn't yet programmed with the knowledge of something. A bugged habit, he supposed.

"Hap! E-Eddiolan ho-me, ho-me hap!" Virgil bounces excitedly and sits beside the android.

"...'Hap?' I don't..." He searched the records for a 'hap,' but nothing relevant showed up. "I don't know what that means. I suppose I could try to find this Eddiolan, but with hardly any records on the place, it would be nearly impossible to find. It's a large planet." He paused in thought, glancing at the creature again. Maybe these Eddiolan people would know what to do with the thing. He looked at the damage the creature did to his arm, furrowing his brow at the damage. "Well, I know one thing. You can't stay here with us. You might chew up the wires."

"... go ho-me?" He tilts his head and grabs onto the  android's arm. "Go Eddiliolan?"

Logan shrugged, shoulders making a whirr noise. "We aren't too far away from the planet. I suppose I can scan the area. If there is any record of an 'Eddiolan', then the scanners should pick up on the place." He walked out of the room, briskly walking down the hall towards the minishuttles. He supposed it would be fine if he dropped the creature off quickly, it would take thirty minutes at the most.

He bounces in excitement. He follows quickly and chirps occasionally. He makes happy little noises and skips. "Home!"

He talked into the radio of his arm as he prepared a shuttle. "Keep going on path, don't travel warp speed just yet. I found records of the creatures home and will return in an estimated 23 minutes." He entered the shuttle, waiting for the creature to follow as he typed in coordinates. "I hope you have some idea of where Eddiolan is. There wasn't exactly any human life around when you found me."

The boy runs in before freezing. He lets out a quiet whimper and slowly backing out of the shuttle.

Logan perked up when he heard the creature run out, torso spinning around 180 degrees to face it. "Is something the matter?" He scanned the shuttle he was currently in, eyes lighting up. He looked back down, eyes dimming once more. "It isn't dangerous. You are safe. I thought you wanted to go back home."

Virgil freezes up and looks pale. He stays frozen for a few seconds before whining. As he whines he turns around and runs away from the shuttle in terror.

Logan blinks, not comprehending the creatures behavior for a moment. He raised his arm to his face once more. "There's a complication. The creature does not want to enter the shuttle for unknown reasons. Delay time expected at 4.6 to 10.3 minutes." He got a word of confirmation in response, and Logan activated the levitation feature in his feet, hovering at a fast speed toward the human. "I thought you wanted to go home. To go home you must get in the shuttle. I don't want to have to cage you, the free cages we have aren't exactly built for your size."

He wiggles into a small gap in the wall and cries. "...loo-hain..."

Logan froze as he watched the creature hide. Did- Did the human just hide in that open power cell station? "Don't hide there, that area is extremely radioactive! You're human, you should know this..." After he remembered the lack of education, the android simply reached a hand into the space, grabbing at the human's arm and attempting to pull it out. He would have to order a mechanic to make sure no important wires were removed. "This is why you can't stay here. If you don't get yourself killed, you'll kill all of us."

He cries harder and wiggles further into it. "N-not me!" He grew more terrified by the second. His breaths quickened.

Logan let go in surprise, flying backward a small bit. "Was that a sentence? Or, at least, part of one? I didn't know you were capable." He hovered there in thought for a moment before grabbing the creature with both hands, attempting once again to pull the human out of there. "You can't be in there. You're soaking up radiation, if you don't have cancer by now, I would be shocked."

He cries harder and grabs onto the android's arms. He lets himself be pulled out, and as soon as he's free, he hugs the android tightly. "... not m-me..."

Logan held the boy up, scanning it. Scanning... 18% Non-melanoma skin cancer. Well, it was nothing a bit of antibiotics couldn't fix. Nothing too serious, thankfully. "Don't do that again. And why are you..." Searching... "Why are you hugging me? I'm not programmed to provide comfort." He hovered back towards the shuttle room, before realizing that was probably a bad idea. He stood there, floating in the hall as he looked back down at the human. "Why don't you like shuttles? What does 'not me' mean?"

"... Not me..." he shakes his head and hides his face. He's still crying and his breathing is weird. "... home..."

Logan squinted. "I don't know what that means." This human has obviously had some negative experience with a shuttle. He turned, instead heading towards the med bay. "As I said, if you want to go home, you need to take a shuttle. We can't just turn the entire starcraft around just to drop off one creature. We have a schedule." He entered the med bay, trying to pull the creature off of him. "Sit down. You have cancer."

He sees they're in the med bay and tries to run out. "Not me!" The smell was wrong and bad and brought bad things and he didn't like that, so he wanted out. He vaguely recalls the cold, sharp pain and the unnatural fuzz that was in medical rooms.

Logan tensed in surprise, his grip around the creature tightening as it tried to jump out of his hold. He held the human by the wrist, staring at it incredulously. "Med bays are negative as well? Hmm. You must have had a bad experience with a starcraft. Surely not one of ours, we're sworn to protect all planet life. Maybe a goon ship? Or a black market seller." He connected his brain to themed bay door, making it close and lock automatically before letting go of the human. "Not to worry. No harm will come to you here."

He curls up against the door and claws at it. "Not m-me! Momma!" Memories started resurfacing, causing the boy to panic and get more frantic.

Logan blinked. Momma? That was a new word. He added it to his folder of words and phrases that the human seemed to know.  "What is a ' Momma'? Please, don't claw at the door, you might scratch up your nails." He turned away, searching through drawers to find some antibiotics for the creature to take.

He continues scratching, and when he realizes it doesn't work, he hugs himself tightly. Virgil yells for "Momma!" And "Poppa" followed by "Not me!" Some syllables were extended and warped slightly from not knowing it was pronounced a different way.

Eventually, he wears himself down to the point of almost falling asleep from exhaustion.

"Hmm." Logan watched the creature tire itself out, perhaps that was for the best. He grabbed an injector tool, placing an antibiotic pill inside and walking over to the creature. He paused for a moment, studying the human. "Searching records for: keywords: Momma & Poppa. Searching..." His eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh. You're calling for your respective parents. I didn't realize you had parents. You are human, I suppose, so that would make sense."

He sniffs and rubs his eyes in an attempt to get the tears away. "... m-momma..." he yawns and refuses to look at the android.

Logan reached out for the creature's arm again, bringing the tool to his skin. "This should help with the cancer. Do not worry, it should only sting for 0.6 seconds." He wondered how the creature would react to being caged. Poorly, most definitely, but he didn't know of any other way to safely bring the creature home. He couldn't drug it, or else it wouldn't be able to help him find his home. "You are proving to be very difficult," he sighed.

He flinches and whines, but doesn't resist to the tool. "... home..." He looks up at the android and makes grabby hands towards him with a sleepy yawn.

Logan stepped back a bit, raising an eyebrow. Analyzing behavior... Human status: drained. "Oh, you're tired. Well, I suppose you can sleep in here. Would you like an, uh..." Searching... "Would you like a bed?"

He continues making grabby hands towards Logan. "... up?"

"Up? Oh. Uhm, sure?" He picked up the creature, slightly confused. "What is the purpose of this?" He didn't understand why the creature always clung to him. He wasn't exactly a comfortable thing to cling to, made of rough synthetic skin and metal.

The boy clings to Logan because it was the closest thing to physical contact he had in awhile. He snuggles closer and ends up falling asleep.

Logan sighed. "I don't understand this, but if you insist." He let the human cling to him, supporting the young human with one hand as he walked over to the computers, typing on the keyboard with the other. He had to find a way to deal with this human. They certainly couldn't keep him.

Virgil stays asleep, occasionally twitching his leg because of his dream. A quiet purr escapes him as Logan holds his small, thin form.

"Hmm... Humans don't normally make that sound." The android scans Virgil to check on his recovery. He looked back to the computers. "Well, I suppose that's good news." He sighed, other arm locked in place as his free arm made a whirr sound.

Tag list:

@royallyroman @dr-emile-picani @guardian-of-cookies@bestbluebouquet@mightyvirgil54 @virgilsandersakaanxiety@blue-fluffy-dragon @avocados26  @nirascharacterdump @amazable01  @imfadingfromtheworld @fandomrandomqueen @thatnoulguyorsomething

[nancywheelxr]

if I could save time in a bottle

"Alex needs a break.

No, really. She has so many accumulated vacation days, she could take the month off to hole up at her place and only open the door for the delivery guy bringing her takeout.

Because this, this, is above her pay grade.

“What is this?” She asks because someone, someone, in this high-level military facility has got to know. “Well?”

From outside the room, Brainy bangs– no, sorry, knocks– on the glass doors again. “If I may, Director–”

“You may not,” Alex cuts him off, because it’s almost noon and she’s heard at least four version of that particular speech already."

or, Winn manages to shitpost through space and time, Brainy learns an inside joke all on his own, as told by Alex, who mostly just wants to quit on this whole babysitting gig

Alex needs a break.

No, really. She has so many accumulated vacation days, she could take the month off to hole up at her place and only open the door for the delivery guy bringing her takeout.

Because this, this, is above her pay grade.

“What is this?” She asks because someone, someone, in this high-level military facility has got to know. “Well?”

From outside the room, Brainy bangs– no, sorry, knocks– on the glass doors again. “If I may, Director–”

“You may not, ” Alex cuts him off, because it’s almost noon and she’s heard at least four version of that particular speech already. “We talked about this. Indigo could travel through the Internet. We’re not taking any chances.”

“Yes, but–”

She levels him with the kind of glare that used to make Winn spout whatever nonsense he had been told to keep from her, and it works, mostly, as Brainy stops himself with a chagrined face, and Alex ignores the aching on her chest reminding her Winn isn’t here anymore. “You are going to stay away from this thing until we figure out if it’s safe or not, got it?” He rolls his eyes, but nods, fidgeting awkwardly on the doorway. Good enough. She knows how to pick her battles. “Great. Now, anyone wants to start talking?”

One of the scientists, a nervous-looking woman, straightens from where she had been examining the sealed cylinder and adjusts her glasses before speaking up, “I believe this is made from some sort of metallic alloy, possibly ferrite, but we are still identifying its components.”

“It’s a faraday cage,” Brainy calls loudly from the hallway, “possibly made out of dark ferrite– an alloy of ferrite with an alien metal that will not be discovered until the 27th century, but I should not tell anything else, as Mon-El says spoilers . But it’s still considered in the 31st century as the most effective material to protect against electromagnetic fields.” He pauses, head tilting slightly to the side, and Alex sighs. “It would shield whatever is inside from any external interference in any wavelength,” a nod to himself, “therefore, I determine it safe from any technological tampering. I shall take it from here!”

So above her pay grade. The team of scientists handling the cylinder all glance at each other, sharing uncomfortable looks.

Before Brainy could override the door locks and stride in the lab, Alex jabs a finger in his direction. “Whoah, there.” The last thing they need is for Brainiac’s AI plague to infect the past too, or, worse, infect Brainy, after he willingly marooned himself here to escape it. Kara would be upset. Lena, too. And even Alex, she supposes, would miss him. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely,” he says, once the doors slide open, “I calculate a lower than 0,012% chance of this being infected with Brainiac-1’s plague. It is, as you would say, as safe as it gets.”

Alex would most definitely not say that, but you know what? Fine. It’s not like any of their scientists were having any luck in opening the cylinder or figuring out what it was supposed to do. It’s probably not a bomb. She really hopes it’s not a bomb. “Don’t take it out of confinement,” she warns him, just in case, because he’s got the same look on his eyes that Kara and Winn would get before going off to do something stupid. “And be careful, we still don’t know who sent this, or how.”

Brainy waves her off absently, already sitting down at one of the workbenches to take a look at the thing. Since it had been brought to the DEO early this morning, after landing somewhere near Shelly Island, Brainy had been tinkering around with it, but when it became clear it had somehow come from the future, Alex had declared it quarantined.

She had to admit it, though, the baffled look on his face as he recognized the strange object had been deeply satisfying. His subsequent sulking– no, sorry, a twelfth-level intellect being does not sulk– as she banned him from the lab, on the other hand, had nearly driven her up the wall.

Now, Alex only sighs again, there’s so much paperwork she should be doing instead– she understands, now, the tired, long-suffering way J’onn always carried himself. She’d say it comes with the job, but she’s pretty sure it’d looked a lot less fond before Kara and the others. “Brainy–”

Whatever it is she had been about to say, she’s not sure herself, dies before it’s even fully formed, because the cylinder shrieks with the terrible high-pitched cry of metals creaking, startling Brainy into dropping it on the tiled floor with a loud clank. The room holds its breath as it rolls lazily in a circle and one of the ends drops down like a lid.

“What did you do?” Alex narrows her eyes at the alien, ignoring the scientists looking around like spooked gazelles. She swears to god, they should be more used to bizarre things falling down from the sky by now. And, besides, if it were a bomb, it would have already gone off.

Once again, the conversation is cut short by the cylinder acting up. From inside it, what looks like a small pebble rolls out, stopping a few feet away and unfurling and beeping loudly.

Okay, maybe she should reassess the bomb thing–

“Captain's Log, Stardate 43198.7,” Winn’s voice carries before the image can shimmer into life, glimmering as the hologram is projected against the wall. The tiny projector whirrs and it comes sharply into focus, showing Winn sitting on Brainy’s chair at the Legion Cruiser, still wearing the clothes he left on, but a delighted grin is splitting his face, even as he struggles to keep a serious, somber expression. “We have entered Klingon Space, but no signs of enemy ships as of yet. Lieutenant Ardeen, status report?”

“All clear, Captain,” the camera pans out, showing Imra sitting at one of the stations, also fighting off a smile, and saluting Winn with the wrong hand. Then, she gasps in obvious fake surprise, “oh no. It seems we picked up a distress signal!”

“We must answer it!” Winn says, dramatically spinning on his chair, “it is our duty and our mission, to boldly go where–”

The image shakes, going out of focus for a second, and Mon-el walks into view, his cape fluttering behind him. He stands in front of Winn, looking between him and Imra, clearly trying to hide his own amusement, “guys, come on. Star Trek again?”

“It is fun,” Imra shrugs, her laughter echoing like wind chimes in the spaceship, “Winn has shown me this– what it is called? TV shows! And it’s absolutely delightful! And we do have another hour until we reach Earth again.”

“Yeah, man,” Winn leans back on his chair, uselessly trying to grab the smooth sides when it sways, and coughing awkwardly to mask it. “Relax, okay? It’s on autopilot, look.” He waves the blue controls madly around in his usual flailing, “this baby is going straight to Earth, 31st century, no pitstops, not even for snacks– by the way, why is there no food in here? And by that I mean, junk food, not whatever that is on the– I’m assuming it’s the fridge?.”

“There is no autopilot–”

“Whaat? Dude, of course there is, that’s like the first thing people build in any kind of vehicle no matter what century it is, trust me, people are lazy.”

“Yes,” Imra comes to stand beside Mon-el, still smiling, “I think I have seen Brainy use it before as well.”

“But,” and now Mon-el frowns like he’s being told Christmas was canceled, “he said there was no autopilot, that’s why I couldn’t drive it!”

“Well,” Winn drawls, drawing out the vowel in the annoying way he always does and Alex absolutely does not miss, “seems like your bro just doesn’t trust you with his ship. I mean, this is a pretty sweet ride. Like, the Porsche of ships, probably. Although, I haven’t seen that many ships, so, I can’t really judge right now, so, yeah.”

“I think it is because of the time Mon-el crashed the old cruiser into a moon,” Imra nods sagely, patting her– husband? Ex-husband?– comfortingly on the shoulder. “Neither Lyle nor Brainy have quite forgotten about it yet.”

“That was not my fault–”

Then, the camera catches Winn’s attention, causing him to squint at it, “I think this is actually recording, hang on.” He takes it to examine it and Alex leans back as the close up of his face is projected on the wall, followed by the shining white floor of the ship, but, because it’s Winn, he keeps talking, “where is it, where is it, come on. Who had the brilliant idea to delete the tiny red light? How am I supposed to know– it is! It’s recording! Ha, look, we’re vlogging! Hey, you know what we should do? We should send it to–”

It cuts off there, the small projector whirrs again, beeps, and curls back into a ball.

And Alex is left staring at the blank wall, trying to process everything.

She isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or to cry, so her body settles without her permission on chuckling wetly, her chest aching in the familiar way it always does when she lets herself admit that Winn had been Kara’s friend first but he had wormed his way into her heart like an annoying little brother she never got to have, and now she misses him fiercely.

Brainy is the first to move, bending down to pick up the tiny projector, and now that Alex feels less like a balloon is about to burst on her lungs, she notices she and Brainy are the only ones left in the room. He frowns down at it, and Alex remembers, suddenly, of his confession that he too misses his friends. “I do not understand what these Star Treks are, but I assume it is yet another movie reference,” he sets it down on the workbench beside the cylinder and the lid, “or what vlogging is. But I believe we should call Supergirl and the others?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Alex shakes her head, pulling up her phone to text them, “they will want to see this. I can’t believe Winn sent a message from the future.”

“I have to admit I am surprised as well,” Brainy says, his hands forming the triangle in front of him in his usual way, “although, I suppose there is little reason for us to be. I would not have sent Winslow to take my place in the Legion if I did not believe him to be remarkably qualified for the task.”

That gives her pause. That was a compliment if she’s ever heard one, and coming from Brainy it’s practically high praise. She’s not sure she’s seen him talk about anyone like this, except maybe Kara, and that’s mostly because Mon-el instilled some hero worship for her in all the legionnaires. “Is that so?”

“Indeed,” he nods, the suspicious tone in her voice clearly going way over his head. Alex wonders if she should outright ask him about it, but dismiss the idea. If anyone had asked her about Maggie before she had come out, she would have denied it until she went blue in the face. Maybe waiting it out is the best right now, especially considering, well, their situation.

She’s still mulling over it, when Brainy huffs a laugh, which is a strange sight all in itself, as humor is more often than not completely lost on him. He notices her confused look and laughs again, gesturing the cylinder, “I believe this is what you would call an inside joke, is it not?”

Her lips twitch. “An inside joke?”

“Yes!” He gestures the projector, “it is a message,” then the cylinder, “on a bottle!”

The memory of Kara’s dangerous mission to Fort Rozz, so many months ago, when they were all still learning how to work with each other, is hazy, fogged by her worry over Ruby and the bone-drenching fear her sister had barely escaped with her life. She hadn’t been there at the time, busy looking after Ruby, but she remembers Winn smirking victoriously as he told her the story afterward over the rim of a beer bottle at the bar.

But knowing Winn, and knowing Brainy, Alex thinks he might be right on this. It sounds like the kind of unnecessarily complicated joke he’d enjoy. So, she smiles what she hopes is a supportive smile, “well, look at you, making inside jokes, already!”

Brainy clears his throat, seemingly unfazed, but Alex’s been working with him for the past couple of months, she can see the proud set of his shoulders and the pleased look on his eyes, image inducer and all. “This is fairly new for me, I confess I’m not sure how to proceed.”

These people are going to be the death of her, Alex is sure. She might not have Kara’s bleeding heart, but come on. “Usually, here on Earth,” she tells him, “when we get a message– a letter, an email, anything like that– we answer. So, I’m assuming if Winn can send us a message, we can send him something back?”

“It would be logical, yes,” he agrees, twisting the lid back to close the cylinder, its walls seemingly smooth again. “If one possessed the knowledge of how it worked in the first place, that is.”

Hold on. “You don’t know how to he did it?” Oh man, Winn would never let him live it down if he were here. “But can you figure out a way?”

“Of course,” Brainy scoffs, sending Alex a look that said exactly what he thought of her doubting his ability to know everything that is to know under the sun. Under all the suns. “It will not take long, I need only to run a few tests, trace what kind of radiation it encountered on the way, perhaps– I shall investigate further on my lab!” Alex narrows her eyes, and he backtracks, “in a lab! An entirely arbitrary laboratory in this facility, chosen completely at random out of the fifteen different workrooms presently active on this building, and not, say, on a lab appropriated for personal researches and experiments.”

Alex raises one eyebrow, “of course not,” she fights off a smile, swallowing down her amusement. “That would be something I’d have to report to Colonel Haley, and she would have it shut down.”

“Which would be an unfortunate ordeal, yes,” he clears his throat again, squinting at her in a way that Alex thinks he might not have completely understood what she meant, but maybe gotten a general idea. “I must start now, then.”

The glass doors slide open, and Alex watches as Brainy gathers the cylinder on his arms as if he’s afraid it will shatter at the slightest touch, and winces when he leaves, announcing in a loud voice, “ah, this completely random laboratory is adequate, I shall use this one!”

Alex wonders if she can assign herself a week of license, it doesn’t even have to be paid.

[septic-dr-schneep]

Could you write a fic about Bing or Google learning that (about not being able to go in water)?

Yeeep, I was already planning to! Here you go!

MP Fanfiction - Testing The Waters

Everything had happened quickly, as all accidents did. When Bing sawGoogle slip quietly out of Egos Incorporated, his insatiable curiosity hadsparked. Bing had only been manifested a short time ago, but he had seen enoughto know that the older Ego wasn’t particularly stealthy on a normal day, soperhaps this was abnormal. None ofthe others had seen him leave, so, being the go-getter that he was, Bing hadflipped his skateboard onto its wheels with the toe of his shoe and followed.

By his standards, he was being an absolute ninja—walking like an animal, flowing with the terrain, controllinghis breathing and whirring, all the tips Wikihow could supply him with. Evenso, he had only been following Google for about fifteen minutes before theblue-clad android turned on his heel and snarledat him, bared teeth and all. Bing yelped out a sharp, censored curse,scrambling to backpedal.

“Are you finished making a fool of yourself yet?” Google spat, bristlingwith a threatening whirr and staring down his nose at Bing, who scuffed hisfree foot against the pavement and jammed his hands into his pockets.

“Well, are you?” he shot back. It wasn’t the best comeback he’d ever had,but he had to stick with it. “Sneakin’ out of Egos Inc. like you’re goin’ allstealth mode—it didn’t work, by the way—and I followed you for a good longwhile before you noticed!”

“I heard you the second you closed the door behind you. Even if you hadmanaged to close it without my notice, the wheels of your skateboard gave you away,” Google deadpanned, his voice drippingderision.

“…Oh.” After a moment of awkward silence, Bing perked up, pushing hissunglasses higher up his nose as he noticed where they were. “Would you look atthat? Come here, old bot, and I’ll show you what my radical board is good for!” With that, he had picked up hisskateboard and was dragging Google by the collar toward the gate leading into thepark. The only way he managed to wrangle Google inside was because he had takenhim by surprise, but judging by the swipe at his arm, which Bing narrowlydodged, he released him just in time to avoid a few broken fingers.

“What are you doing?” Google demanded as Bing strode proudly toward thepond.

“I’ll bet ya I can get up the speed to hop the pond on the first try!” heannounced, to which Google shifted his weight back, looking thoroughlyunimpressed.

“I’ll bet that you’ll hit a cleft in the ground, fall, and break yourneck before you get there,” he huffed. “I don’t have time to indulge you andyour stunts.” As he spun to leave, Bing’s smirk fled and he tossed hisskateboard onto the ground.

“I’ll prove you wrong! If I do it, you tell me what kind of mission you’redoing on the D.L.! If I can’t clear it, well, I’ll go home and I won’t keepriding you.” Google ignored him as he moved back toward the gate, so Bingscowled further, doubling his fists. “What’s wrong, Rusty? You scared of a bet?!”

That stopped him dead in his tracks. He stood motionless for severalseconds, trembled slightly—no doubt in rage—and then lifted his head. When hepivoted and reapproached, his face was an expressionless mask, but hisnaturally brown eyes were burning with blue. He said nothing as he shoulderedpast Bing, kicking the skateboard to the side in the process, before plantinghimself by the edge of the pond.

“Well?” he snapped, gesturing expectantly at the surface of the water,which sparkled and danced in the sunlight. “I’m waiting.”

“Don’t get your gears in a crunch.” That said, Bing readjusted hisskateboard, planting his foot squarely and leaning back on his other heel,squinting at the water, trying to gauge just how much power he had to put intohis jump. He wasn’t the best at math, but he figured the same amount of push heput into getting halfway down the stairs would be enough!

Google was tapping his foot now, Bing noted, eyes narrowing further, hiscore tightening in his chest.

This was going to be easy—just a simple jump. If he was feeling sassymid-jump, maybe he’d put a little flip into the board, just to rub it in Google’sface that much more. He was gonna show him. He was gonna humiliate him. Themental image of the shock on Google’s face when he cleared the pond was so, so sweet. Bing craved it, now morethan ever.  

He could feel the power at his disposal as soon as he pushed off; it wasgoing to be more than enough. He could already feel the elation, the pride, thevalidation, the reward—

As soon as the board’s front wheels left the ground, however, an irongrip snagged Bing’s arm, hauling him out of the air and sending him flying theopposite direction. He hit the grass with a startled grunt and rolled a fewfeet, lying stunned for a moment before pushing upright and staring indisbelief up at Google, who stood holding up his skateboard by two fingers. Hewaved it tauntingly.

“What the…? You—!” Bing’s next several words were censored by his SafeSearch as he scrambled furiously to his feet. “What’s your problem?! That was a perfect shot!”

“I guess not,” Google sighed, feigning sympathy, but the size of his grinbetrayed it. “And since the bet was that you clear the pond on the first try—and you didn’t—I guess youhave to slink on home. You never said I couldn’t interfere. Now let me get onwith my work. You should work on yourjumps.” That said, he set the skateboard down and idly nudged it with his foot.Bing watched, openmouthed, as it rolled slowly over to him, and then glanced upat Google, who was walking back toward the path without a care in the world.

No.

Hands found board, feet found purchase, arms found air, and he swung ashard as he could, screaming something unintelligible. The crack as the skateboardconnected with Google’s head was much louder to his ears but even that wasdrowned out as the older Ego was thrown back and splashed thunderously into thepond.

As soon as he struck, Google sparked, contorted and screamed—a horrifying,garbled, high-pitched wail of agony that Bing never wanted to hear again. Hestumbled back as Google flailed and floundered, electricity spewing out of hischest for several long seconds. As it died down, so did his struggle, hisscrambling slowing to defective twitches and his screams petering out into alow, crackling whine. Even that fell silent after another few moments and therehe lay, stiff and smoking.

No…

No, no, no, no—

The skateboard, the deadly weapon, fell with a clatter, completelyabandoned as Bing sprinted to the edge of the pond, gasping as he leaned toreach out and then flinched back. The water—if he reached in—Wait—The tip ofGoogle’s shoe was just poking up out of the perilous pool. Thinking fast, Bingsnatched at it as best he could, dragging Google’s dripping leg up with it assoon as he latched on properly. The rest of his waterlogged frame followed andit was only when he was lying unconscious on the shore that Bing felt free topanic.

“Google—Google, I didn’t mean to—oh, man, oh, man, what’ve I—? Oh, man—”Gripping Google’s shoulders, he shook him a little, pleading nervously, “C-C’mon,wake up, you gotta—” What was it they always did on the shows? Check for apulse… Gnawing frantically on his lower lip, Bing pulled on Google’s soppingwet shirt, sliding a few tentative fingers under it toward his core, probing.

What if I’vekilled him?! I didn’t mean to kill him—If Dark finds out I’ve killed him, he’lltear my head off without a second thought! The Host will erase me from history!A sudden spark sent a jolt up his arm, startling him out of his agonizingthoughts, and he didn’t waste any more time, shoving his hand into the rim ofGoogle’s core, hooking his fingers on the wiring. His skin tingled as soon ashe made contact and then he could sense it: electricity.

“There’s still time!” he burst out, glancing up at Google’s pale facewith a near-sob of relief. Instinctively he brushed at the wet strands of hair,hissing through his teeth as he saw the sizeable gash his skateboard had madein Google’s forehead. “You’re good, you’re gonna be fine—the doc can fix you! Ijust gotta get ya there! S-Sorry—” Scooping Google into his arms, gritting histeeth against the dead weight, he ran.

“The, uh, the old fart’s gonna be okay, right, doc?” Bing ventured as Dr.Iplier emerged from his lab. “You were in there for a century and a half…”

“You didn’t expect me to rush, did you?” Dr. Iplier huffed. “He wasdying. Frankly, I’m surprised he didn’t die as soon as he hit the water. If hewas anyone else, even any of the duplicate Googles, I’m pretty certain he would’veFaded right in front of you.”

Something distinctly uncomfortable tightened in Bing’s throat and hischest. He swallowed around it and took a deep breath. “But he’s gonna be up andat ’em soon?”

“Once his self-repair systems can work on their own again, yes. You cango see for yourself, if you’d like,” the doctor offered, nodding toward thedoor.

Facing Google was frankly the last thing he wanted to do, but Bing hadpride to account for. He had to act guiltless. After all, he’d told Dr. Iplierthat Google had tripped into the water, not that he’d been pushed, so…no onehad to know about his guilt. If he avoided Google because of it, though, he wassure to tattle to Dark as soon as he was back on his feet. If he visited him,however, Google may keep it between them and treat it like another privatereason to hate him.

“Are you going or staying?” Dr. Iplier prompted, recapturing hisattention.

“Uhh, staying,” he blurted out, rising. “Thanks, doc. You’re the man.”With that, he pushed the door open, shuffling slowly toward the medical bed. Onthe bedside table, he could see Google’s glasses, the frames warped and thelenses cracked, and something about it made his stomach turn. Even so, his eyescouldn’t resist drifting to the glasses’ owner. He expected Google to open hiseyes and look at him, his gaze filled with loathing and fury, but they stayedclosed.

He looked…vulnerable like this,Bing realized in disbelief, moving around the bed and sinking onto the edge ofthe nearby stool. His face was still unnaturally pale and the circuitry visiblethrough the gash in his forehead flickered faintly, working to repair thedamage from within. Now that he was paying attention, Bing could see the dentingalong his forehead and jawline, leading to his parted lips and the thin tube betweenthem, draining excess water out of his throat and into a bag.

Did the doc actuallyuse a catheter on his throat? Bingwondered, a weak laugh finding its way out of his own throat, but it diedhalfway. There were drains plugged into his core too, the places Bing himselfhad searched for any sign of life. His hands tightened between his knees.

“You owe me big time, y’know that?” he muttered. “I could’ve…I could’vejust let you die. Fade. Right in front of me. I bet you would’ve if it’d been me, right, man?” His thoughts turnedback to the moment when Google grabbed his arm, wrenching him away from thewater. But that had been to humiliate him, hadn’t it? He’d done that just to “interfere”…hadn’the? What if he hadn’t?

Google was pompous and sadistic and selfish. He hadn’t done it to save him! He did it because…he wanted tokill Bing himself, on his own terms and timeline. He wouldn’t let him die tohis own stunt.

But didn’t that mean he had savedhim, even if it was for the wrong reasons?

“Why do you have to be such a—? Ugh, I hate you…” Running a handfrustratedly through his hair, Bing glanced down at the floor and then back atGoogle. “I hate you,” he repeated, more slowly…testingly.

“I hate you.”

How did it feel, saying it to his face?

“I hate you. I hate you.”

The more he repeated it…the better it felt. He sat up straighter, lookingGoogle up and down.

“I hate you.”

He wasn’t so tough.

“I hate you.”

A little water had stopped the big, bad Google dead. He would’ve diedright there.

“I hate you.”

He remembered Google’s smile as he taunted him, waving his skateboard. Hehad left his skateboard behind for him! The anger returned then, stirringkeenly in his chest.

“I hate you. I hate you.”

The anger felt…good. Refreshing. Really, really good, he realized, a surprised smile tugging at his lips. Isthis how Google felt towards him all the time?

Why hadn’t he let himself feel this sooner?

“I—hate—you, Google,” he hissed,leaning in close, elated by the fact that Google couldn’t do anything to pushhim back. “So…so…much.”

[fountainpenguin]

Please do #7.

#7 - Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

I’ve written so many scenes I love. I couldn’t pick just one, so here is one from each of several fandoms.

Total Drama - The Lyin’ Queen, Chapter 2: “Last One Standing”

Context: It’s just after Staci’s elimination ceremony. We follow her point of view as she wanders Playa Des Losers while the Season 1 cast pack up and leave after learning that they won’t be participating this season. Note that in this scene, Ezekiel is on Staci’s shoulders.

That snapped up the attention of the boy with the injured arm who had greeted Staci down by the beach. “Hold on. Owen, what happened to your face?”

“Um, Chris strapped a bomb to it, and it went off. It’s okay, though! It wasn’t really a bomb, it was just a signal flare thing. It doesn’t hurt anymore, really, Noah. You don’t have to worry.”

Noah opened his mouth. Shut it. He raised his good hand. Lowered it. Raised it again, then lowered it.

“Why didn’t you tell me this five hours ago when I asked for everyone with injuries to meet me down at the dock?”

They made a comical sight- a giant cringing away from a scrawny bookworm who had one arm wrapped in a sling of reeds. “I didn’t want you to yell at me,” Owen whimpered.

“Why would I yell at you?” Noah yelled, slapping his palm to his forehead. “You need serious medical attention, Brickhouse! What is your problem?”

Staci had begun to walk backwards as she watched them, so she didn’t know what to think when her heels and hips thunked against something large and metal and cold. She looked up. The thing was a robot. A big, chunky robot with a square head and small, colorful buttons all over it. It breathed at her.

“Hello?”

The robot continued to breathe at her.

“Okay, yeah…” Staci grinned and tried to slip beneath its arm, but the robot would have none of that. Its clawed hand twisted around. It grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her into the air. “Hey!” she sputtered, kicking her legs. Ezekiel launched into a stream of snarls, and the robot launched into a stream of high-pitched beeps. Staci wasn’t much of a yeller, but she considered putting her lungs to full use when another voice broke her out of her stupor, and she glanced down.

“Leave her alone, gawsh!” A redheaded boy with thick glasses - Staci knew he was Harold, because he’d been in the Drama Brothers band too - brandished the tattered white tablecloth from the buffet table. After folding it a few times, he twisted it up and smacked it against the robot’s chestal region. With a few more grunted clicks and whirrs, it replaced Staci (and Ezekiel) on the ground. Then it rrrrrd backwards, turned around, and drove away.

“You all right?” Harold asked, taking Staci’s shoulder to steady her. She wrinkled her nose in the direction the robot had rolled.

“Ya, I’m fine. What… is it?”

He shrugged and, after casting it another glance, shuddered and began walking in the opposite direction. She hurried after him. “Oh, him. That’s just the Total Drama Machine. It’s just programmed to pick stuff up and throw things away, reach high shelves, purify drinking water, give off magnetic pulses to scare off the mutant wildlife, stuff like that. Just kind of roams around until it bumps into something.”

“Huh. Well, I might have to take it apart and see how it ticks, ya. Inventing runs in the family and I won’t rest until I make a significant contribution to the world. You see, my great-great-great-great aunt Tanya invented HELLO GOLDEN FLIPPING SWEETNESS!”

She recognized him instantly- Who wouldn’t? But he was so much different in real life than he’d looked on YouTube. His tan skin was… was the color of perfect skin, and his black hair had that sheen that all hair should aspire to gain. He had the gorgeous rounded muscles, had the defined cheekbones of cheekbone heaven. He lay back in a pool chair with broken legs, penciling in a crossword puzzle with one hand and holding a tall glass of fruity pink juice in his other. Even before the last word had left her tongue, the newspaper in his lap burst into flame. “What the-?” he yelped, flinging it away as he jerked upright. “Who turned on my-?”

HOOOOO SNAP HE WAS HOT!

He tipped up his sunglasses and gave her a puzzled look. He had two black eyes and a mummified leg and a bloody slash down his right cheek AND HE WAS STILL THE MOST BEAUTIFUL MAN SHE’D EVER SEEN IN HER LIFE!

“Who is this?” he asked Harold, pointing at Staci with his pinkie. As he said it, his pencil started to smoke. Even his warm voice was super unfairly attractive.

“Justin,” Harold said, gesturing towards the ILLEGALLY MEGA HOT GUY with one upturned palm. Then he moved his palm back towards Staci. “Staci. She’s part of that new cast Chris brought in, and she got booted first this season.”

HE WAS LITERALLY GLOWING AND OH MAN IT WAS SO LUCKY HE WASN’T WEARING A SHIRT BECAUSE IF HE WAS HE’D HAVE TO BE ARRESTED FOR EVER CONCEALING SO MUCH FREAKING BEAUTY FROM THE WORLD FOR EVEN LIKE FOUR SECONDS!

First of all, I just want to say that “Why would I yell at you?” Noah yelled is one of my favorite lines of all time.

Okay, but how can you not love Staci? She is so ridiculously… chill. About everything. I really do need to finish this ‘fic one of these days, because she’s so funny. Keep in mind that this scene with Justin comes shortly after the scene when Staci was about to drown and when she saw someone coming to her rescue, her first thought was, “Please be hot, please be hot, please be hot.”

I don’t think the scene above really needs much explanation. Staci finally meets Justin in person, and it goes down exactly the way you’d expect it to. I nailed both Staci’s voice and succeeded in adding humor to this chapter, so I’m pretty pleased with it to this day.

Pokémon - PMDU - “Playin’ Sight” and “Rory and the Duckletts” Part 7

Context: PMDU is/was a Pokémon Mystery Dungeon group on deviantArt that allowed members to create teams and embark on story adventures. I’ve actually got two pieces from PMDU that I’d like to share because ??? I’m like that ??? The first one comes from “Playin’ Sight”, and is told by Kit the shiny Duskull, who has fallen into despair after Roland migrated south for the winter. As a result of their break-up, Kit lost all housing benefits and can’t stay in the Hunters’ Guild dorms anymore. Snow is on its way, Kit has no place to live, and it’s a very sad day for a suicidal little hippie ghost with depression.

My thoughts had wandered back to Roland’s smug face with its tall, pointed ears and soft feathery muzzle. His whiteness and purity, his snappy red and electric blue freckles, that incurable quirk to his right ear, the muscles rippling around his wings like waves amidst Iravian prairie grass… Was it any real surprise? Roland was all I had. As a Ghost, I’d seen many faces come and go - most of them people I didn’t think were all that fab - but through some twist of fate, I had never met anyone quite like Roland before. He wasn’t a prince. He was hardly a citizen. He was dirty and vulgar and foul-mouthed and ill-tempered. He was sexist, impulsive, gluttonous, clumsy, illiterate, accepting, noble and brave, a devoted worker, passionate… Roland… liked me.Such an absurd concept, that. No one liked me. Katherine Christopher “Kit” of the surname they would not acknowledge was an awful ‘mon by nature. Depressed and troublesome, chaotic and shy. I cared more for my plants than I sometimes did for others’ lives.And yet, despite every flaw, Roland found something in me that he appreciated. He lay his hand against my dead, unfeeling cheek, and he brought me to life. A Duskull that feeds on negativity and a Togetic that feeds on happiness make for quite the pair.Roland was the embodiment of everything that was meant to be in the world. Optimism. Socializing. Fun. He made me laugh when no one in the world could, because his genius blossomed from his gentle stupidity. Despite him disgusting me, he was my favorite ‘mon in the world. Why did I hate knowing that he saw me as his friend? I know why. Because that hurts. When your best friend doesn’t count you as their best in return. When I gave him my everything, but being roommates with benefits wasn’t enough to make him stay.Serpent below, I’m in love with someone I’ve forgotten how to hate.

“Get me another leppa,” I told Linette, shoving my empty juice cup across the counter as the Mareep beside me got to his two rear feet and stretched. When she closed her flipper around it, we touched for the briefest of moments. I let my fingers linger, until finally she eased the glass away. If she’d been Roland, she would have held them absently as she stared out the window, then turned to me with crooked teeth slightly parted at the sight of simple wonder in the evening streets.I’d have murdered someone for the chance to tell him I was sorry. I’d curl my long, wispy tail around his ankle the way he liked, leaning forward with my folded arms on his knee. One more night. Just one with the love god who considered me dirt, since I played in it so much, burying plants, burying emotions, burying dreams. One more night. Someone else’s blood on my hands for the taste of nacho cheese on his lips. I’d give anything to hear him whisper in my crumpled Slakoth ear that I actually mattered.

“Playin’ Sight” is a really cool piece for me, because it really allowed me to develop Kit’s character. Especially Kit’s relationship with Roland. Apparently those two were roommates with benefits the entire time and I just had no idea until now. But a Duskull and a Togetic have got to be one of the cutest, most complicated, and most unexpected couples you can stumble across. One wants to make the other miserable, the other wants to make the other happy.

Kit is aromantic pansexual, and I had a lot of fun writing sexual attraction from an aromantic ghost’s point of view. Kit’s lost so many people… so why does losing one more have to hurt so much? Especially when Roland is deliberately written to be as stereotypically horrible as I could make him, except for the fact that I accidentally made him volunteer at orphanages and nursing homes in his spare time and censor all his swears. I just love their dynamic. I like the prose above because we see Kit working out messy feelings, and I think it’s cute.

Now! “Rory and the Duckletts” was a side story I wrote over the course of a year and a half that told the story of Team Plum Pudding’s first days in the city of Andalusst. This particular scene revolves around my characters Rudy the Gothita and Adrian the Chespin after Rudy was tossed in “temporary jail” for crushing part of the city with a flying (read: falling) Wailord. Adrian has come to seek him out, since he believes Rudy to be the only person in the city who knows who stole the notebook that contained his entire life’s work regarding Pokémon biology.

The floor was rough. Cold. There were only six cells in the small side building, and of them a mere two were occupied. The first cell contained a sleeping Audino with matted pink fur, curled up in the far corner. Rudy was in the second one. The Gothita lay on his back on the simple bunk in the otherwise empty enclosure, sliding his feet up and down the brown wall. His hands were still bound and covered with the cloth sack.Adrian glanced Angelo [the Zangoose]’s way. “And I’m allowed to speak with him?”“I honestly don’t care one way or another what you do, so long as you don’t attack him or me or try to remove him illegally from the premises.” Angelo flicked his claw at one of the bars. It clanged. “We force-fed him a Disable pill approximately fifteen minutes ago. He ought to be harmless for the next forty.” He withdrew to his desk along the opposite wall.Rudy sat up. “Darian?”“It’s me, Rudy.”He rolled from the bunk and came over, pressing his snout to the bars. His eyes rotated around a little, and finally he found the Chespin’s body heat and smiled.“I knew you liked me. It was the ride above the clouds, wasn’t it? It’s always the ride above the clouds. That’s the rule of three.”“Of course I like you. I adore you.” Adrian crossed his arms. “You know why I came and I have neither the time nor desire to play games, so let’s hear what you have to say and get on with it.”Rudy’s little smile disappeared. “Hey Darian, listen. It’s weird, but they severed my connection somehow.” “Connection to what?”He pointed at his head where his ear should be (Adrian decided that he probably had ear holes just beneath those ribbons). “I don’t know the word for it in like non-psychic language. But the pill messed up my connection.”“In Common, please?”Rudy sighed like Thorn. “You know, my thing. My Gothita sight powers. I can’t even see the warm windows anymore, even though you’ve had one following you all day and it’s probably still here. And I’m not picking up too many signals, so half the time I’m losing my words.”“I’m sorry for you. Does that interfere with your ability to describe the location of my sketchbook thief?”“Well, no, but… It bothers me. No, it really does. I feel gross and dead.”Adrian clicked his fingers several times, at least as well as he could manage. “Rudy. It’s late. My feet are sore. My ribs are broken, gosh darnit, if you’ve forgotten that. I am starving, exhausted, dried halfway to a husk, and just in an incredibly cranky mood overall. Please, just once today, can I not have something go easily for me?”Tilting his head, Rudy brought his brows together. “Why didn’t you tell me your ribs were broken? I would have healed you if you’d asked nicely.”“Please don’t tell me you know Heal Pulse. I will pitch a fit.” “Yeah, I do. My Dad taught it to me when I was little.”“Why didn’t you- I told you I couldn’t walk!”“Well, you didn’t say it was because you’d broken your ribs. You just need to be more specific. Wait, did I just…?”Adrian narrowed his eyes. He probably deserved that, although he wasn’t sure exactly how. He glanced out the window over Angelo’s desk. The sky was still black. He ground his teeth. His tongue flicked over the space in the back where he was missing one. Had that only been yesterday?“Gosh darnit Rudy, please. I will fall to my knees and clasp my hands if that is what you would have me do. Everything I am is dependent upon that notebook. You’re the only one who can rescue me from this despairing pit I have slipped into. I’ll owe you so many favors. Please, for the love of science, answer me. Where is our thief?”“I’m sorry,” Rudy said, not looking particularly broken up about this. “I can’t tell you. I don’t know what street he’s on. I’m thermosighted, remember? I can’t read signs, so I’d have to show you where. I can find it - it won’t be hard.”Adrian bashed his head against the cell bars. He let it stay there for a few seconds, then turned around to look at Angelo. “Is there any way possible I could take him out, just long enough for that?”Angelo shrugged, bored. “Not particularly, no. He’s being temporarily contained, so he’s stuck here for twenty-four hours or until his legal guardian comes to pick him up and sign the necessary forms. Whichever comes first. I think they’re planning to move him to the real jail once his time is up, since they can legally arrest him or something. I don’t know for sure. They told me, but I wasn’t really listening.”Adrian swiveled his gaze around to Rudy. “And I suppose it would be far too much to hope-”“Ended up separated from my dad in the Fog a season cycle ago, biff. As of yesterday, I’m now registered as a legal dependent of the city until I turn seventeen in common year.” He frowned. “I’d tell you ‘It will take awhile’, but that’s too close to the old thing right now, I think. I don’t remember.”Oooof course. This would be too easy otherwise. Adrian pressed his hands against his back and looked up at the ceiling. “Well, that settles that for us, then. This is the worst day of my entire life. No, you think I could be exaggerating, but I’m not. I hate every ounce of today. Or do we use another measurement system in this goshdarn city? I hate every gram of today.”“Hey.” Rudy tapped his bound hands against one of the bars, producing a low rattling sound. “Hey, plant guy. You should become my legal guardian. I think it would be nice to have parents.”His whiskers twitched. “That’s not happening. I didn’t come here to adopt a foster kid. Try again.”“Oh.” Rudy thought for a minute. “What if you broke me out?”“I’m not doing that. That’s against the law. Even if it weren’t, it would be rude. I’m not the kind of ‘mon who finds joy in tearing apart a carefully-constructed public building. Aside from that, your new friend the Zangoose is standing right here and I assume he would attempt to stop me.”Angelo shrugged. “That sounds like something I would probably do.”Rudy sighed. “Weeeell… I guess if I were a nice person, I could let you read my mind.”“Oh, would you? I would be so flattered. Ah, wait. Drat- I can’t read minds. Believe me, I would love to be a Psychic-Type.”“Phone a friend?”“Phone a… Oh, do you mean call in another Psychic? Do we have time for that?”“Nope. Maybe. I dunno. Not my problem.” Rudy shrugged, and his smirky smile came back. “Well, I suppose there’s no help for it. You’ll have to run away. I mean, I mean! Adopt me. You’ll have to adopt me. This helps both of us. I don’t see any better solution. And speaking of better, I’m feeling better already. Did you hear what I just said? I think my pill…” He chose to shut up without being asked. Probably for the first time in his life.Angelo shrugged again. “If you want to take him under your wing, you just need the mutual consent of all parties involved for that. Adopter and adoptee. Birth parents can intervene if they can prove their genes are shared, which isn’t hard. If they’re around. You could sign the document and be out of here in a matter of minutes. I have a stack of papers like that here in this drawer. Interested?”Sure, why not? Because that sounded like a perfect idea. Of all the children in the city, wild Rudy - who was currently behind bars in first-level jail, in case anyone had forgotten - was definitely the one Adrian wanted most. Rory had a c-day coming up, and a child would make a perfect mid-birthday present for her. And with Rudy came the Wailord, and then Adrian could get to enjoy the experience of almost dying every possible day. Everyone wins.Adrian picked up the first sheet of paper.Check all that apply: I am adopting an Egg of uncertain origin / I am adopting an Egg of known origin / I am adopting a person who has seen four or fewer winters / I am adopting a person who has seen five or more winters / I am adopting a direct relative / I am adopting my spouse’s child / I am adopting a person already affiliated with my Guild team as a fully documented member for at least one season.“I’m not doing this,” Adrian said, skimming down the rest of the page. It was alarmingly short for a document that could change one’s life so tremendously, so it didn’t take long.What city, town, village, or similar do you reside in? Do you qualify for official residency?I can confirm the adoptee’s birth parents or former guardians consent to adoption and have signed the necessary relinquishment forms or have otherwise been unable to perform physically or morally proper guardianship duties for the adoptee for a period of at least one most recent season.Consent of birth parent or former guardian is not necessary because: Guardian is confirmed deceased with currently no confirmation of spectral return / Guardian has been lost in the Fog for time exceeding one season / Guardian has been deprived by law of custody / Guardian has voluntarily surrendered right to custody / Adoptee was first discovered as Egg or somewhat or entirely Fogwiped and birth parents have not yet been traced.Contact with adoptee’s former guardians post the adoption is: Signed and attached / Undecided / Not applicable at this time. He shook his head. “No. I can’t commit to this - there’s no way I have time to read all these papers. Have any other plans in that unstable little skull of yours?”Rudy had tilted his head and put his mouth around one of the bars - Adrian tucked that thought away for later - but he stopped mid-chew to screw up his brows. “I’b not really what you migh’ call th’ planning type. I us’wawy just go vith th’ first thing to pop in’o my head s’long as it’s vithin the rules I know, and things us’waway work out okay.”Suitability for adoption: Adopting guardian can be considered an adult by officially recognized common count, will treat the child as a member of xir own family, will care for and provide support for the child, has a suitable home for the child, bestows upon the child rights equal to those that would come from natural birth including inheritance, and is adopting the child while being of their own, safe and sound mind.Yeah right. Like Adrian was going to get that garden house of his dreams and just pass it on to Rudy when he died. Rudy would probably murder him to get it if he found out.The information given on this form and all attached documents is correct to the best of my knowledge. I understand that this means if I have lied on this form, I am guilty of crime unless a condition of ethereal powers such as in the case of possession or psychic abilities is recognized and confirmed within thirty days.The edges of the paper crumpled in Adrian’s fists. Lowering it so he could see Rudy’s bright blue eyes again, he jabbed his finger through the bars of the cell. “If I do this for you, you will never, ever, ever, ever cross me for as long as you should live or exist in spiritual form.”“But why would I do a thing like that?” Rudy asked, setting his covered hands against his chest bow. 

Oh, there are a dozen things I love about this piece. We’ll start with the most obvious: Adrian spontaneously adopting the child he despises, and refusing to tell his boss and team partner Rory that he did so. Adoption was not my original plan going into this scene, but I adored the idea. What’s funny is the sheer amount of people who know this happened, none of them being Rory. In a later piece called “‘Cue the Music”, Miles and Kit argue over how to bring “Hey Rory, Rudy is legally your child now” up in conversation now that Adrian has been… removed from the picture. They know, she doesn’t. Good times. Love it.

I love the little details here, like the fact that Rudy was force-fed a Disable pill to strip him of all his moves. In the next scene, when he and Adrian are walking down the street, Adrian realizes that because Rudy is a Psychic-Type and his blood moves extremely quickly through his body, drugs don’t last very long in his system and if he would have waited a few more minutes, Rudy could have gotten out of jail by catching Angelo off guard with a few attacks. Cracks me up every time.

I think my absolute favorite bit of prose here is Adrian listing off all the reasons why he SHOULDN’T adopt Rudy, and then promptly picking up the adoption papers and reading through them anyway. I love these two and their dynamic so much. Really wish this Group hadn’t gone on hiatus. I had big plans.

This scene is also notable for being the only time we ever see Rudy speak without using references in every line of his dialogue, as he lost his psychic connection with the Fourth Wall when he was Disabled, so it’s kind of cool to see what he sounds like when I’m not feeding him obscure quotes all day. Turns out he’s still an adorably annoying little guy.

Fairly OddParents - 130 Prompts, “Solo”

In all honesty, China’s introduction scene is probably my all-time favorite. I have a lot of scenes I like, but several of them I’ve talked about on this blog before, and some of my other favorites we haven’t reached yet and they’re spoilers. A lot of my favorite scenes are lengthy ones (“Shadow” and “China’s Finger Trap” come to mind), so here are two that are a bit shorter.

The door on this end had a small sign above the handle that read, Timmy’s Room: PLEASE, PLEASE Knock.

Remy entered without knocking and switched on the lights.

This is from “End of the World.” Remy barging into Timmy’s house in the middle of the night and turning on all the lights like it’s his own home just cracks me up. You can bet that Timmy’s parents don’t knock either, but you can’t blame a kid for trying.

And I have another one too:

Context: H.P., Sanderson, and several other pixies are about to observe one of the youngest pixies in the company as he retakes an exam for the tenth time.

Four minutes later, Sanderson gathered with the other proctors of the exam - Hawkins, Wilcox, Longwood, and the Head Pixie himself - outside the door.

“You all have your clipboards and two pens at the ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect you all to be as objective as possible. Is that understood? Hawkins? Sanderson? There will be trouble if I see any more ‘At least he tried’s. We’re not cutting him slack because he’s already failed nine times.”

They both nodded. Longwood tugged at one tight sleeve of that fluffy brown jacket of his, plainly reveling in the fact that H.P. hadn’t said his name.

“And Longwood?”

“Sir?”

“You have a lipstick stain smeared beside your ear that wasn’t there before Naelita Sorins went up to your office. I’ve noticed she’s been visiting quite often lately, and less and less often when you go on break.”

Longwood’s face turned gumball pink beneath the dozens of red freckles that identified him as a gyne rather than a drone. His fingers went straight for the spot on his cheek. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“That’s twice I’ve had enough proof to call you on it now. Three strikes and you’re out. If this happens again, I want your cap on my desk, and Smith will rise to his gyne duties and replace you as company vice president. After we finish here today, you can report to evening dish duty for two months as you did before.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you for not firing me. I’ll clean myself up better next time.”

H.P. raised one eyebrow. Sanderson kicked his ankle, because he could get away with it.

“I- I mean, I won’t do it again (Watch your fat toe, lug).”

“Do what?”

“I, erm, I won’t sneak smooches during work hours, sir.”

Sanderson whistled a few bars of “Kiss the Girl” from Disney’s “The Little Mermaid” as H.P. looked him up and down. “I suppose that’s the most compromise I’m going to get out of you. If you ever wonder why you aren’t allowed to leave Pixie World unsupervised anymore, this is why.”

“That's… that’s perhaps for the best, sir.”

“How am I doing, boss?” Wilcox asked. H.P. stared at him for a moment, rubbing his chin, then gave him a thumbs up. Wilcox brightened. Hawkins patted his shoulder with his bad hand, and Sanderson mimicked the thumbs up once the boss’s back was turned.

H.P. opened the door. The room was small, with a desk and chair set solidly on the tile. A window into the observing room spanned the back wall. Arranged neatly on the desk were one landline phone, one pad of green sticky notes, his starpiece, a wrinkled purple pamphlet that listed each pixie’s name, job title, and room number, and about a dozen blue and black pens. Rosencrantz sprang from the chair as soon as the door opened, holding his arms straight by his sides.

“Sir.”

“Good afternoon, Rosencrantz. The time is 1:00. You will now be entering the fifth and final day of your assessment. Today you will be answering calls from clients and, if necessary, directing them to whomever you believe can be of best assistance to them. You may use the provided pamphlet, but no other notes or reference materials you may have written. You must take ten calls, and are expected to remain in the exam room until you do. You may contact any pixie for anything you need to complete your tasks. However, you cannot ask for advice on how a call should be answered. When you are finished, you must demonstrate the proper exit procedure as though you were going on break, after which you may leave the room and wait while we tally up your score. Are there any questions?”

“No, sir.” Unsurprising. Rosencrantz had run through this test so many times, he probably had the opening speech memorized as well as H.P. did.

H.P. flipped the wall switch to redirect all incoming calls to Room 1C. “You may begin.”

On that signal, he and the others floated (Longwood walked) through the room’s rear door and took their seats in the floating chairs behind the window. H.P. sat down in the centermost one, removed his glasses, and massaged his temples.

“Twelve pens. He’s nervous. The utmost he can pull out of this now is a two hundred and forty-nine.”

The scene where H.P. studies Wilcox thoughtfully and then gives him a thumbs-up is probably one of my favorite bits of prose that I’ve ever written. It was the perfect end to the little critique session going on there. Wilcox brightening up just makes my day. Although he’s a boring, stoic pixie, I always envision him breaking into a grin and clenching his fists near his chest in a squee. Praise from H.P. is hard to come by some days, and they drink it up when they can.

Some other aspects of this scene that I love are Longwood instantly knowing where the kiss mark on his cheek is, Longwood promising to “Clean himself up better next time” and H.P.’s eyebrow raise in response to this, Sanderson kicking Longwood “because he could get away with it,” and of course, the last line here where H.P. deducts points before the exam even starts just because Rosencrantz has “too many pens.” With the way he rubs his forehead, you can just feel him oozing disappointment.

Not to mention, I love the entire concept of this piece. It’s a cute one. And it ends so dramatically. Lots of fun, and definitely counted as one of my favorites of the entire project.

Danny Phantom - “How to Get Ahead In Navigating”

Context: Youngblood has returned to the Ghost Zone after “The Fenton Menace” and arrived at a Western-themed saloon-like restaurant. He announced his arrival and all the patrons are scrambling to pull out money for him. All except for two: one being Vlad, and one being a muscle-headed mercenary-type here.

“Who the heck are you to be bossing me around, kid?”

It’s very quiet in the room. I hear someone reach out and adjust their fork on the table behind me.

“Mmm.” I prop my cheek against my fist, with my elbow on the table. I even kick my legs behind me as I do it, so I’m more like floating horiz… horace… on my belly in front of them. “You’re cute. You know what? I like your moxie, so I’ll give you one more chance to decide what you’re gonna do about this. I’m Captain Youngblood. The Captain Youngblood. Plunderer of merchant ships, transporter of Living Realm goods, adopted son of Prince Aragon’s chief royal advisers, hold the all-time high score on Plasmius Peril at the Purgebane arcade, savior of the skeletons. Ring a bell up in that waxy noggin of yours?”

Anchor Arm sweeps his stare over the other patrons in the restaurant. I don’t look behind me, but I know a lot of them are probably watching us. This doesn’t happen a lot. “You really here bragging that you’re the toughest guy in this dinky little joint?” He looks at the man in white like Is he for real? while the man in white simply smiles back at him with the patience of a cracking tree branch.

“Yeah, well.” I walk my gloved fingers across the tabletop, and jump them on Anchor Arm’s spoon. His spoon flips into the air and clatters down in the other guy’s soup bowl. “I never said thaaat. I mean, I am just eight years old. You don’t really have to do anything I say. Unless you want to.”

He gets ready to smack me in the face, because we’re being the most cliché people ever and of course he’s going to lose his temper at me in five seconds. I get ready to not move. If he chickens out, I win. If he slaps someone who looks like a kid, then everyone will be shocked and afraid, and I can fall to the floor and act stunned, then get up and be super calm about it and make a show of forgiving him while still being the mysterious, barely-restrained loose cannon everyone thinks Captain Youngblood is. And then I win.

But I don’t get the chance to not move. A glowing pink coil of energy, like a whip, snaps out and catches him around his hand bobble. Wrist. It’s the other man at the table. With a yank, he pulls his friend’s arm down with a light grunt. It slams against the table, rattling the silverware.

When I look at Anchor Arm’s friend, I expect to see him pleading, ready to grovel at my feet for mercy. Instead, he’s all relaxed. Maybe even laughing. The guy actually has a sort of chuckle on his face, a friendly We’re sharing a joke here; typical Anchor Arm–you know how the poor man gets.

Um. Do I know this guy? Like I said, he’s dressed in almost all white, except for a black triangle of a shirt at his chest. He also has on huge black gloves that look like my cowboy ones, and a thick black belt around his waist. And there’s that huge puffy red and white cape too. The collar on that thing is like fwoosh. His Dr. Spectra devil horn hair is the blackest shine you can get in hair. His calm attitude stabs me in the guts. If I had skin, this is the definitely the first guy I’ve met in a long while who would make my skin crawl. But I don’t have skin. I don’t know who this is.

“Goodness me, I’m so terribly sorry. Allow me to extend my most formal apologies.” The man touches two fingers to the two clasps on his red and white cape, briefly shutting his eyes. The smile doesn’t disappear. “My name is Vlad Plasmius.”

… Eep. Yeeaahhh, I know who this is. I mean, we’ve never met, but I don’t think we have to. I’m Captain Youngblood, champion of the rebel skeletons. He’s Vlad Plasmius, the grown-up halfa who can beat up Phantom, and guardian of the only other permanent portal we usually talk about in the Ghost Zone. Does anything else even need to be said? What’s he even doing in the Limbo sector? I thought his portal was in Haykees. Shouldn’t he be, I dunno, guarding it?

Plasmius retracts his pink whip with a flick of his hand. The energy dissipates like mist. “And what my friend Romeo here means, dear boy, is that we would be delighted to provide a strapping young orphan boy like you with all the funds you could possibly need that you’ve been unable to procure for yourself.”

My smile wrinkles. “Huh?”

I know what all those words mean. I’m smart like that. But huh?

The man reaches into his vest, I guess, and pulls out the biggest stack of cash I’ve ever seen, except on game shows. He drops it on the table next to his bowl, where the spoon I flipped is still sitting, then pulls out another stack of cash even bigger than that one. And then another. It’s like he just goes around wearing a whole padded vest stuffed full of money to protect him when he gets shot by lasers or something. I don’t even have a clue how valuable cash even is in the Ghost Zone, so is that a good idea, or a wasteful one? Does our economy even work anymore now that King Pariah’s gone and half our money is rocks picked up off the ground? I actually do not know. I don’t really care about booty.

“Now.” After four bundles, the man laces his fingers under his chin, leaning his elbows on the table. “What exactly was your usual pay rate, again?”

“Uh.” My eyes dart to the money, then to him again. That stuff looks real. That can’t be real. It’s too much. He’s showing off. This is weird. What’s going on? “I… I… I don’t have a set rate for what I take. I just take whatever people give me. It, uh, averages out to be about 900 /d/ a person, I guess.”

That didn’t sound very pirate captain. That sounded very domino punching bag king.

I love the restaurant scene as a whole because it makes it very clear that Youngblood actually is a big deal in the Ghost Zone. In show canon, he has a ship full of skeletons who respect him, and the plot of “Pirate Radio” literally revolved around Danny being confused that everyone respects Youngblood when he’s in charge, and no one respects him when he tries to be in charge.

In this scene, Youngblood strolls in like he owns the place, with confidence and swagger through the roof. Everything is fine until his path crosses with the one person who refuses to bow to him. Youngblood is used to rerouting paths so that he can pull a victory either way the situation goes. But clever Vlad knew exactly how to surprise him, and humiliate him in front of the entire restaurant. 

Youngblood is a very interesting character, having fifty years of world experience and the mind of an eight-year-old to process it all. I feel that the restaurant scene really delves into the way he works and the teasing games he plays. I love the way he describes things: The collar on that thing is like fwoosh. I also love the fact that when Youngblood was flaunting his credentials, he listed his high score in the arcade before the fact that he’s known as “the savior of the skeletons.” Priorities.

This piece is heavy on stream of consciousness, and I think it came out very well. I’ve tried writing Youngblood in past tense, but I just can’t. His constant thoughts and his way of addressing the reader pin him so well in present. I just adore his little comments like, If I had skin, this is the definitely the first guy I’ve met in a long while who would make my skin crawl. But I don’t have skin. I don’t know who this is, and Does anything else even need to be said? What’s he even doing in the Limbo sector? I thought his portal was in Haykees. Shouldn’t he be, I dunno, guarding it? He’s just so beautifully… child-like. Nailed it. “Ahead In Navigating” is definitely one of my absolute favorite pieces I’ve ever written.

Bunsen Is a Beast - Goodness of Misfit, Chapter 1: “King and Lionheart”

Context: Mikey Munroe has been called down to the principal’s office, and he’s about to be given Bunsen’s file and told that he’s been assigned to welcome Bunsen to school, since no one else on the welcoming committee wanted to. The peppy welcoming committee supervisor, Miss Lighthouse, is here as well.

“Oooh, it’s such a shame you hate traveling beyond town as much as you do, bingo ball! You know, when I was your age, I was out running and climbing in the woods and swimming in the river just constantly. I recorded all my adventures and wrote a book. School is delightful, but the summer season is what really gets me drunk on living such a glorious life!”

With that, she punched the air. The arm that still had all its fingers was a prosthetic, and sometimes it freaks out when it moves too fast. This was one of those times. Principal Freshwater’s globe flew off the bookshelf and crashed behind my chair. I winced, but didn’t get up to look at it. Instead, I folded my [unbroken, unburned, untouched by insects, uncovered in poison ivy, free of snake bites, fully functional, very safe because I don’t take them into the woods unprotected like a crazy person] arms and tried to find his pupils behind his milky glasses.

“Uh… Are we really getting a new student this late in the year? Sir?”

I didn’t see any other reason for Miss Lighthouse to leave her classroom. I mean, I was just a fifth grader, lowest on the rungs of middle school, but everyone knew I’d be promoted from a mere member of our welcoming committee to its head next year. It was a win by default; one by one, the rest of the kids had told me flat-out to my face that they wouldn’t be coming back.

… Come to think of it, I’d noticed most of them called down to meet with our principal a few days before telling me flat-out to my face that they wouldn’t be coming back. In our last meeting, Miss Lighthouse and I had been the only ones to even show up.

I crossed my ankles as my toes curled in.

Principal Freshwater placed both hands on his desk and heaved himself from his chair. Well, he got up, at least. The seat stayed stuck to his, uh, lower half for an extra two seconds before it fell back on its wheels with a clatter. “That… is precisely what we called you down here to discuss today. Our new student will arrive at the end of September, six weeks into the school year. As you well know, Michael, I’m due to retire in a matter of months.”

“Really? Weren’t you supposed to retire in like, January? And the October before that? And the June before that? And the-”

He adjusted his striped tie with his fist until it reached an angle that said “Shut your yap, punk-to-be, before I transfer you into Coach Glutes’ homeroom and obliterate all your chances at a successful future.”

As a punk-to-be, I was thereby cowed into shutting my yap.

“Our humble school has been granted a… sufficient amount of funding to ensure our new transfer student feels as though we’ve actually put forth effort into making him feel accepted in our community. When I leave this job behind, I do not want to be remembered as the man who wiped our town off the map… and into a pit of gnashing teeth, roaring flames, and acid burns. As such, I want to see this exchange program pulled off without a hitch.” While he was talking, Principal Freshwater oozed around the edge of his desk and brought his mouth near my nose. “Do you know what ‘without a hitch’ means, Michael?”

I squinted one eye to block his spittle from my cornea. My gaze darted to the picture frames lined up along the edge of his desk, but no one in the family photos screamed ‘Killman material’ to me, so I relaxed again. A little. “Uh… That this is a really huge and important job and you’re asking me to do it because I handle stress well, I run three of our clubs, I’m like the only kid who still wants to be part of the welcoming committee next year, and you know I won’t drop out because when I stay after school I get to use Miss Lighthouse’s computer without the constant fear of my parents being able to tap into my browsing history and expose my innermost secrets behind my back?”

In my free time, I tap into people’s security systems and jot the codes that work down for future reference. It only takes a few dozen tries, and I’ve lived here all eleven and a half years of my life. Not the kind of thing any kid wants to surrender to the loophole police.

Placing a hand over the headrest of my seat, Principal Freshwater leaned it all the way down until my back was almost parallel with the floor. His shoe stopped the feet from kicking too high. “It means that if you mess this up for us, Michael… it will be on your meaty head. And that’s a lot of head.”

“I can’t say I entirely disagree, sir,” I whispered through the reek of oysters and mayonnaise on his breath. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to remind him my last name was spelled with a ‘u’ and not an ‘o’.

I absolutely love the moment that Principal Freshwater pushes the headrest of Mikey’s seat down and leans over him. It came out exactly the way I wanted to, and really emphasizes Mikey’s discomfort. Overall, I think my Mikey voice came through very well in this piece. That casual way he mentions that he taps into people’s security systems, though. I mean, small town boy who’s parents installed them in the first place. He gets curious. What do you expect?

We never saw the school principal in the show, so I made one up and I feel like he fits in perfectly. In case we did meet the principal in the future, I wrote this scene so that Principal Freshwater here is about to retire. I just love the scene where Mikey is questioning this, musing that the principal has been wanting to retire for a long time. Mikey has that little, absentminded way of undermining people that’s such a funny part of his character. I’m glad I was able to slip it in, and set up the opportunity to use Principal Freshwater later if I’d like to.

Mario - “Pendant of Scarabs” Chapter 1

Context: Back in 2011, I started a ‘fic called “Pendant of Scarabs” that revolved around young Kamek and Cackletta, two long-time rivals who team up to search for magical treasures in an underground pyramid. I never finished it, but I have oodles of child Cackletta stuff that I would love to reboot as a backstory fanfic someday if I had the time. This scene here is the first part of the first chapter.

The flying turtle boy was bothering her again.

Idiot.

She shielded her face with one hand, narrowing her eyes against the sky. He circled above on his broomstick, watching her watch him. It had been two days since she’d first noticed him, three since she’d thought she was being followed. Now, he didn’t even bother to hide the fact that he was tailing her. He swam lazy circles through the air, over and over in front of the sun, his shadow tracing her progress on the ground.

There were two ways to get him to come down. For the first one, she could blast him out of the sky with a lightning bolt. It would be tiring though, and just make him angry, and she really wasn’t in the mood to deal with angry flying magical turtles.

She could wave him down with her hands, but that was something she could never see herself sink to doing. He could circle the sky all he wanted. She didn’t care.

Or he could dive down like that. That worked too.

Cackletta scowled at Kamek as the Magikoopa swooped low. “Why have you been following me? Do you want something?”

His broom slowed to a halt in front of her. “Hello to you too, Princess. Lost again?”

The young witch crossed her arms, her scowl deepening. “What do you mean ‘again’? And I’m not lost. I know exactly where I am.”

“Hmm…” Kamek tapped the side of his snout with a clawed finger, pretending to think. “Crossing the desert, far from home, and I’ve watched you go in circles for the past three hours. Yep, you’re definitely not lost.”

She glowered at him as he slid from his broom. “This is none of your concern. I should zap you into nothing right now.”

Kamek raised the nearest thing to an eyebrow. “I’m still alive, aren’t I? Obviously you don’t have magic abilities right now,” here he pointed to the sun, “or you wouldn’t have warned me. Little unfamiliar with the desert, are we?” When all he got for an answer were gritted teeth, he changed the angle of his claws to point at the paper tucked beneath her arm. “What’s on the map?”

“Like I would tell you.” Cackletta’s long green fingers curled into fists, still smoldering at the desert comment.

“Oh, I already know,” Kamek assured her. “I’m a Magikoopa.” His face became a mask of concentration, and a few seconds later he managed to pull a crystal ball out of the air. Still a little unfamiliar with his magic, his clawed fingers slipped at the awkward grip he was holding it in, and the crystal crashed to the desert sand.

“Hmm… little unfamiliar with the desert, are we?”

“Shut up,” he growled, picking the crystal from the sand and causing it to vanish back to wherever it had come. “My point is, I already know what you’re doing. You’re searching for that amulet thingie of yours.”

“Pendant,” she corrected, narrowing her eyes. “There’s a difference.”

He shrugged. “I’m in need of special magical ingredients for… certain things, and supposedly these things are found at the same place as your amulet. Am I right?” he beamed.

Cackletta’s fingers twitched slightly. “Pendant. What are you talking about?” She had an uneasy feeling that she already knew what he meant, and hoped she was wrong.

Kamek picked up his broom in one hand and angled the handle in her direction. “Well, isn’t it obvious? You need the amulet, and I need a few gems also supposed to be hidden in the pyramid.”

“Who said anything about a pyramid?”

“You know.” He waved the broomstick absently. “The underground pyramid.”

So he DID know. That wasn’t good. “So what you’re saying is that you want to team up. With me. Why would I ever do that?”

Kamek held out the broom again. “For one thing, I can fly. If you’re with me, we’ll have a better view of the area. For another, I’m a magic user too. We have different kinds of magic, Beanish and Koopa. That could be a good advantage.”

“Lachenohr,” she growled.

“Hmm?”

“I’m not convinced. Go on.” She folded her arms.

“I have access to food,” he offered. “Which, after watching you for three days, I think I can safely say that you don’t have anymore. How much longer do you think you can go without food?”

“I can create water out of nothing. I don’t need food.”

Kamek grunted, unimpressed. “Well, think about my offer,” he said as he began climbing onto his broom. “Shame, too. How long do you think it will take until they catch you?”

“What?” Cackletta blurted before she could stop herself. She whipped around, scanning the desert. Nothing but sand, sand, and more sand, a few rocks scattered here and there. “You’re lying.”

“Oh no. Why would a lie about something like that?” He leaned forward over his broom, which still hovered at least a foot off the sand. “Forget it. I should have known you’d be stubborn enough to turn down my offer.” He clicked his tongue, and the broom rose higher into the air. “I’d say they’re only about twenty, thirty miles off? You move fast. I’m impressed.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “… I hate you.”

“Last chance,” he warned, smirking slightly.

Cackletta looked him over. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen years old her time, probably less than that. Juvenile Koopas. She’d never liked them. He wore a blue and white robe a few sizes too big, and the matching hat perched on his head was floppy, forcing him to keep pushing it out of his eyes. A pair of thick glasses rested on his snout. It was a wonder he could even see through those things. At his side was a leather satchel, a strap holding it up around his neck. It wasn’t very large, but it was probably magicked to hold more items than space should allow. And he was right about two things: he could fly, and she was hungry.

“Temporary alliance,” she cautiouslyagreed.

I love this scene because it really captures the relationship between these two characters that I was going for. Cackletta and Kamek have so much potential, I think, and I enjoy watching them bounce off each other. I wrote them here as rivals, but they’re still willing to form an alliance. Cackletta is stubborn and hates swallowing her pride to ask for help, and Kamek is a bit of a social, “Yay, this will be a super fun adventure!” bug. He grows more world-weary with age, but I was aiming for that side of his personality that will stop to chat with you about the lovely pink dress he’s wearing before you take him on in battle. I think I nailed it.

I also like how the worldbuilding is pretty seamlessly woven in (Cackletta’s struggle to use her magic under bright sunlight, and Kamek thinking he’s the big cheese even though he’s still learning his trade himself and dropping his crystal ball). It doesn’t come in all at once. I also love the little details, like smug Kamek being well-prepared with plenty of supplies, casually kicking back and asking Cackletta what’s on the map, while she’s been stumbling around with nothing for days. She’s definitely the rasher one between the two of them. “Food? We don’t need no stinkin’ food. We die like men.”

Even seven years later, it still holds up fairly well, wouldn’t you say? Wish I could say the same for the rest of the ‘fic, ha ha ha. Either way, I’m quite proud of my younger self’s abilities.

My other favorite Cackletta / Kamek rivalry piece would have to be “Our Pointless Magic Lesson”, which opens with those two having a magical snowball fight. Looks like even back then I was already slipping bits of biology into my worldbuilding. I gave Cackletta’s species feet bristles. Hee hee. Desert people. I certainly look forward to writing new Mario ‘fics with improved skills very soon.

Those are some scenes that I enjoy, and I hope that you guys enjoyed them too!

[aclockworkempire]

Chapter Two: The Castle, Part Three: The Keep

The keep’s corridors are cool, quiet, and creepy. I expected frenetic dashing and ducking out of sight of guard patrols, but it feels abandoned in here. The sounds of “divers alarums” from the outbuildings fade, and I creep along the passageways in my slippers, ears open for any sound. The natural light fades as I push deeper inside and is replaced by a diffuse network of eerie blue lamps. My sense of direction is good, and I make my way north.

Down a passage to my left, I hear the whirring of clockwork joints. My pulse accelerates; I flit across the junction but peek back around the corner. I see two automata, decorated much more elaborately than those in the raid on Midoro. They bear shields and lances, each with thick cables running into the machines’ elbows. These must be royal guards, not foot soldiers; their equipment, lightning powered like the soldiers’ truncheons.

I slip away and vanish down a side corridor. It leads down a short flight of steps into a larger room. No blue lamps illuminate the room, and it’s almost pitch dark. I pause to let my eyes adjust. It’s an abandoned kitchen; the pots and pans are well-used but clean, except their thin coat of dust. I carry on.

Most of the next hour is spent this way; seeing or hearing guards in the distance, ducking out of sight, keeping one turn ahead of them… By the time I’m through, I’ve memorized half of the guards’ patrol routes. I cut through unused guard stations, bunk rooms, ballrooms, and parlours without seeing a living soul, but the castle is constantly patrolled by these automata. It implies a staggering amount of paranoia. The king must expect assassins at any time and mistrust the humans he rules.

It’s hard to imagine the young Prince Link anywhere in this tomb of a keep. I think of his letters to the Archduke to petition his father, and wonder when last the prince last saw his father.

Based on what I saw of the keep from the outside, I must be near the northern face now but still too high for a useable exit. Though I have yet to encounter a single locked door, there were several scares when I peered around corners to find pairs of guards, perfectly still and silent, blocking doors to lower levels.

I’ve given up on finding a ground floor exit; right now, I will settle for roof access. Surely, I can find a way down the north wall. With that in mind, I work my way up floor after floor and find myself at a crossroads. From the west corridor, I cautiously peek up the northern way. It ends abruptly at a large and ornate set of double doors – watched by a double set of clockwork guards.

Ducking quickly out of sight, I am exceedingly grateful that their visual centers don’t recognize my tiny movements. As I try to think of a plan, I hear a strange sound – real, human footsteps. They come from the south. They sound heavy, like those of a large man. Resisting the urge to run, I sneak back to an alcove down the west passage and crouch out of sight. I put one eye to a gap in the archway’s decorative trim to see the walker.

The man who strides into view is huge and muscular. His long dark cloak and grey-brown skin make him almost wraithlike in the dim light, but a crest of flame-red hair highlights him. The cloak is trimmed with gold, and thrown back from a huge barrel chest covered by a rich burgundy vest. Light glints off a gold monocle as he glances down at a collection of papers held casually in one hand.

As he passes out of my sight to the north, I heard the whirr of clockwork joints. Are the guards accosting him? Surely not. Somehow, it’s impossible to imagine the vast confidence in that man’s stride being misplaced. He must be expected.

He might be my only chance to get through that door.

Heart pounding, I ghost my way forward again and peer around the corner. Two automata are bowing deeply to the stranger, while two more work an elaborate unlocking mechanism on the door.

“He’s become, if possible, too frightened. Too cautious. Perhaps a touch of assurance is in order…” the flame-haired man murmurs to himself, and the door opens.

The large chamber beyond gets barely a glance; enough to see a raised dais in the middle of the room, and flights of stairs sweeping around the edges to a balcony and door at the back. Pillars and a thick railing should give me cover to hide on the stairs, but my mind is all on the knife-thin path that gets me in the room.

The man strides into the room. I see the two automata that opened the door for him step into line ahead of him, as a sort of honour guard. The two left behind maintain their low bows.

I am a shadow; I am a magician’s assistant; I am not a character in this scene; I let this confident man be the main character and slink up the hallway. Five, six steps; I stop breathing as I slip behind one bowing guard. There’s less than a foot between it and the wall. I have to duck under the butt of its lance. It starts to straighten and the doors start to swing closed right in the middle of my crouch. As the weapon’s shaft arcs down with terrible, unconscious force, I plant my rear foot and dive forward into a roll.

Like a child’s fingers around a slippery minnow, the doors slam shut behind me. The sound covers my roll. I’m not two meters behind the man, but he keeps walking. I vanish behind a pillar and peer out through the railing.

With a clack, the guards go to their knees in front of the dais. (I use the sound to crawl forward, using the rail as cover, to the second pillar. The fifth pillar borders on the balcony, and my door northward out of this room.) The man bows low.

“Archduke Ganondorf Dragmire,” a deep voice rasps. It comes from a mound of sorts in the middle of the room, on the dais. I take a moment to parse what I’m seeing. A grand chair sits there, a throne. On it sits a huge man, thick white beard pouring down the front of his robes like a waterfall. He’s mostly concealed by masses of thick cables rising from the floor, entering his robes at the ankle, the wrist, the neck. Some flicker with blue light; others are tubes carrying liquids to and from the body.

“King Rhoam Calatia,” the Archduke replies, straightening. “Do I find you well? Are you comfortable?”

“As ever,” the king says. “Your ministrations leave me without pain in my body, and I thank you. My mind is aggrieved, though. I must know what befalls my people. Tell me what happens in the mists; are my citizens safe? Have the behemoths been seen recently? Do we yet have a plan to slay them?” His voice booms throughout the throne room, and yet he struggles to use it.

I carefully retreat to the wall, keeping the pillar between myself and Dragmire. The stairs are too narrow to hide me completely, but I should be virtually out of sight from below. I crawl up to the third pillar.

“Those few brave souls who must stay in the service of your military are securing more villages each week, highness,” the Archduke assures. “Just yesterday, Midoro was made safe. Its people endangered themselves and others with home grown explosives and invited lawless dissident forces to train them in a brutal, undisciplined form of warfare. All of these rogue elements are pacified, and we are treating them even now.”

Halfway around the room now, I am in Dragmire’s line of sight. The stairs narrow. Even lying down, I can see them through the railing. The guards remain kneeling, heads down; the Archduke seems intent on the king. With a shiver, I realize that the king must be nearly blind if he hadn’t seen me roll into the room. Ever slower now, conscious of every twitch of Dragmire’s face, I worm my way to the fourth pillar.

“That is welcome news,” King Rhoam says. “But what of the leviathans? It has been years now that they terrorize our air lanes. You tell me that they even dive beneath the surface of the mists, as though hunting for squid in the deeps. Our mightiest warships cannot pierce their hides with our largest cannons. What news have you on their actions? Tell me how we will defend ourselves!”

Behind the fourth pillar, I breathe deeply and slowly, try to release my body’s tension. Though I haven’t been spotted yet, it seems impossible for the Archduke not to notice the motion if I continue from here. I resolve to stay safely hidden until the audience concludes.

“Ah, the matter of these… these ‘wind fish’ as the people have come to call them…” Dragmire says with distaste. “One was sighted near Midoro before we could intervene. It didn’t damage the village, beyond, perhaps, scaring the locals out of what wits they had. Our cannons do harm them, my king; we drive them off, and none dare approach our island directly. The problem lies in killing one before it can escape. My researches continue. I am deciphering an ancient ritual to unseal a great power. When complete, I will have the power to keep our people safe from anything!”

“Is that… is that wise, my friend? That which is sealed by ancient magics was surely sealed for some reason…” The king’s voice falters now, weakening.

“I take every precaution,” Ganondorf soothes. “Leave it all to me. Aren’t you tired now, my king? I keep telling you, your body needs rest. My treatments can only do as much as you let them.”

“Yes… yes…” the king sighs. “That will be… very good…”

Archduke Dragmire stands there, attentive, expression stern, staring at the king through his small, gold monocle. Apparently satisfied, he turns… and begins to climb the stairs behind me.

I have an instant to react, as the pillars block his view. I scramble as quietly as I can up the last of the stairs. I hear his footfalls, measured, patient. Darting over to the door, I try the handle. It turns, unlatches with a soft click. With milliseconds to use, I throw myself through the door.

The hinges squeal loudly as it opens.

I slam it behind me and look for a lock. There is none.

The long hall I find myself in is lined with raised stands. On each stand, a glass case; in each case, a treasure. Skylights let in the cheerful morning sunshine, but even standing on a glass case, they’re too high to reach. Doors line each wall, and I dash for the nearest.

The door I came in flies open as if a hurricane were behind it. The door I ran to is locked.

I hear only two steps before a huge hand closes on the back of my head. I twist out of its grip, but he pulls me back by my hood and flings me into the middle of the room. With a crash, my dead weight topples a stand. The glass case atop it shatters on the floor. I tumble as I land, but can’t find my feet. I come briefly to rest amidst the broken glass, almost on top of the sturdy gauntlet contained in the case.

Ganondorf stands over me, grabs me by the collar, pulls me upright. I grab the gauntlet as he does, the only thing I can think of to use as a weapon.

“Who are you, little mouse?” His baritone washes over me. He didn’t even lose the monocle in our scuffle. “How did you get in here, and why are you spying on me?” His fingers feel like iron, and they start to reach up under my hood, around my neck.

It’s possible to win a fight with someone who is bigger, someone who is stronger. I’d been doing it onstage half my life. It might have been theater, but that didn’t mean it was staged. If I couldn’t outmaneuver the other performers, my part of the show ended early. If a strong man gets a grip on me, life becomes difficult, but I still have the twin recourses of flexibility and surprise.

The gauntlet slipped onto my left hand as if it was made for me. Flexing my fingertips into spearpoints, I thrust them into his armpits while curling my legs into my body, giving him nothing to hold but dead weight.

His fingers don’t loosen. He grins. I instantaneously feel his balance shift, feel him trying to fall forward onto me. I bring my arms around his, drive each elbow down onto his forearms. His muscular arms don’t bend, don’t react. We are falling. My palms slap together, fingertips join into a unified spearpoint aimed straight at his throat. My legs uncoil, and I land on my left knee, right foot planted.

I hope his weight crushes his throat on my hands. It doesn’t. With an implausible speed of reaction, he takes a half-step, catches himself.

We poise there for a second, his hands on my collar, my fingers to his throat, him bent over me on one knee on the ground. I see the back of the gauntlet on my left hand. The back of the hand has a triple triangle design in brass-on-silver, and there is a socket on the back of the forearm. It looks as though it once held a gem.

I take this all in at once. Time crawls by. Ganondorf tightens his grip with glacial slowness as I think.

The socket would fit my mother’s gem perfectly. The gauntlet seems ever so slightly warm, and familiar. It’s the same feeling my mother’s gem always gave me, and, I realize, the Sheikah wallet did as well. Grandmother said those were objects with their own magical potency; this gauntlet must be, as well.

I relax my right hand and pass it over the gauntlet. I let the white gem drop out of its shadow into the socket, where it locks in place with a satisfying clink. A sensation of lightness and wild freedom courses down my arm.

I look back to the Archduke’s face. His eyes are locked on the gem, left opened wide in surprise and right tightening around the monocle with furious focus.

“I am Zelda,” I cry. His eyes turn to mine, and he recoils. “Of Hyrule!”

I release the magic in the gauntlet. Left palm open and facing right, fingers straight. A great wind surges under me. Ganondorf’s grip weakens in surprise. I leap, straight up, pushed up by the gale. My left hand raises and shatters the skylight above me. I land, rolling, on the steep roof tiles.

Clockwork sentinels line the eaves of the keep like crenellations. The Archduke’s voice bellows from below for guards, and their heads turn, lock on to me. I run down the slope of the roof at them. Barely a stone’s throw worth of courtyard separates the keep from the outer castle wall, here. I can see the houses and buildings of Castle Town, built right up to the castle.

These automata are built like the royal guards inside, but with sure, steady feet built for the roofing tiles. I call on the magic of the gauntlet and gem. I make the same gesture, palm open and perpendicular to me. Mentally naming this maneuver a Gale Leap, I point my fingers forward and dive into the wind. It carries me horizontally, up and over the lances of the sentinels climbing to meet me. I travel over the courtyards, over the castle wall, and I’m falling, falling into the town.

[dapokemonmadster]

Bittersweet

Hello everybody!! So I saw @sketchhungry‘s art for their Crosshares family au and just... well, I got inspired and HAD to write a little something for it. I wish I could say I wrote fluff, but, well, I ended up writing how Velvet and Coco found little Honey. Actually, my version of the story got a little debunked, since I started writing this before Hungry came out with more details on how the event happened, but I went for it anyway!! Hope you enjoy!!

Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11535435

FFN: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12577208/1/Bittersweet

A geist in and of itself is a terrifying concept. A possession type grimm, that, if given the chance, can create a unfeeling, invincible body for itself out of its surroundings. Hunters able to take out a geist were always in high demand, for while a geist-hunt might be a routine mission for a trained warrior, one would always pose a massive threat to a defenseless civilian. The worst trait that a geist held was its ability to discern the weak from the strong, separate the lambs from the shepherds. As such, a small village in the wilds of Anima was the perfect target.

The call came in late. The details were scarce, and all Team CFVY knew for certain was that at least one geist was involved. By the time they arrived at the village, it was little more than smoldering ruins, laid to waste by the grimm. The geists had been clever, going right for the solitary, local huntsman before he’d even known they were there. The rest of the villagers had been easy prey.

“Alright, everyone. You know the drill. Fan out, search for survivors. Stay within eyesight of each other at all times.” Coco barked, and the four of them started forward, hands on their weapons, senses on overdrive. Geists were tricky. They made their kills and then retreated, hiding and waiting for the right time to strike at those that came to observe the aftermath. Hunting one required the utmost caution.

Velvet inched forward, eyes scanning the smoking skeletons of houses, and blinking at the sunlight that streaked through the haze of smoky air. Her feet crunched in the ash, and her ears twitched, swaying this way and that in an effort to catch even the tiniest of sounds. Anything that might indicate a survivor. It was doubtful, she thought, stomach plummeting as she averted her eyes from what must have been a charred corpse. As a huntress, she should have been used to death. But it always shocked her to the core, leaving her with a feeling of being drenched in ice water, shivering uncontrollably. And really, would she consider it a good thing if she began feeling nothing for those that had perished? Towards lives she could have saved? Hard as it was, Velvet would always view empathy as a virtue. She felt something hot behind her eyes. If only the call had come earlier... if we’d been faster then maybe... No, no. She couldn’t think like that. It wouldn’t help the situation. For now she just had to focus on finding and helping anyone that might have lived through the attack. A sharp whistle had her looking over at Coco, who was signaling to a suspicious pile of rocks lying in the dead center of town. A likely suspect for a geist possession. Yatsu, Fox and Coco fanned out, carefully encircling it. Velvet made a move to join them, but stopped dead in her tracks, ears twitching violently.

“What is it, Velv?” Coco whispered, as loud as she dared. All the color had drained from Velvet’s face. She had heard something. A heartbeat. Small and beating fast with fear or pain, she couldn’t tell which. A child. Without a second thought, completely against protocol and her years of training, Velvet turned on her heel and ran towards the sound. An action based on instinct alone.

“Velvet! Wait!” Coco cried out, but her voice was drowned by the yells of concern from Yatsu and Fox, as the pile of rocks from before started shifting and rumbling. It had been a geist after all. In a split second decision, Coco dashed after her. She knew it was stupid to leave Fox and Yatsu to deal with the geist alone, especially since it had already assumed the shape of a giant rock golem. But it was even more stupid to leave one of her teammates by herself. At the very least, they should all have somebody to back them up.

She found Velvet frantically clearing rubble and burnt wood beams away from a small mound of debris. Her eyes were wider than Coco had ever seen them, and her ears were rigid, trained on a sound that only she could hear.

“Vel-”

“Just help me, Coco!” Velvet nearly shouted. Coco’s mouth clapped shut. She’d never seen nor heard Velvet be so commanding. Immediately, she dove in to help. Under their combined efforts, the rubble was cleared within minutes, revealing a small well. At one point it had been filled in, leaving only a small, dry pit in the ground. It had miraculously kept its structure as fractured rafters and stone had come showering down around it, but what demanded more attention was what was curled inside.

Tiny, golden ears, so much like Velvet’s, twitched feebly. A thin cry rattled the air, as the small child rolled onto her side, blinking at the sudden burst of light.

“Oh my..” Coco gasped. Velvet didn’t say a word. Instead, she slowly reached down, wrapping her arms around the little faunus and pulling her out of the well.

“Is she injured?” Coco asked. Velvet shook her head mutely. The girl let out another cry, clutching at Velvet tightly. Coco slowly reached out, stopping just short of her, not quite daring to touch her.

The sole survivor.

Coco suddenly became acutely aware of how stupidly dangerous her situation had become. She’d just left half her team to face a geist alone. Not only that, but a geist that had already formed a body. Trained as they were, it was still difficult to muster up the brute strength to destroy a geist’s body with just two people, and to make matters worse, they now had a child to keep safe. The only confirmed threat was the geist, but there was no telling if more grimm were on their way, or if.. there was only... the one....

A prickling sensation on the back of her neck was all the warning Coco got before something slammed into her side, and Velvet screamed as she was sent flying. Coco smacked into the ground, hard, her aura catching the brunt of the attack and bouncing her off the ground. She felt her aura strain, stretched to its limits with just one blow. Picking herself up off the ground, she turned to see a…

House?

The remains of one, at least. It took her a second to register what she was seeing. One of the skeleton houses that had been blown apart in the attack was moving. It was uprooting itself from its cement foundation, rafters like fractured ribs pointing accusingly at the smoke-stained sky, door creaking brokenly from its hinges like some lopsided mouth… it had hit her. And now it was going after Velvet. Creaking and shivering, the floorboards near the door wrenched themselves free, spilling out of the door to drag the giant, splintered mass of wood along the ground like some kind of freakish slug.

An entire house.

That’s when Coco realized there was more than one geist.

Velvet’s brows knit together. She placed the tiny faunus down behind her, reaching for the box strapped around her back. She scanned the broken mess inching towards her for any sign of the geist’s mask, its only weakness.

“Velvet, get the kid out of here! We gotta get her to safety at all costs!” Coco yelled hoarsely. Velvet didn’t respond, but the determined set of her jaw and her defensive, almost motherly position in front of the little girl told Coco exactly what she was thinking. There was no time to run, nowhere to go, and Velvet wasn’t moving an inch. As the geist pitched its enormous,  ungainly body at Velvet, shards of dishware and the shattered remains of furniture came spilling from the doorway and window frames like innards. Coco yelled, terrified that the glass would harm Velvet or the kid, but Velvet couched over the faunus girl, letting her aura take the blow for both of them. Then she turned back towards the geist, eyes flashing dangerously, suddenly illuminated by the glowing blue outline of a giant gatling gun that had seemingly apparated in her hands. Coco recognized the gun as a copy of her own weapon. With a fierce battle cry, Velvet opened fire at the geist. The flurry of bullets tore into its wooden body, sending it reeling backwards against the onslaught, splinters of wood littering the air.

Realizing the effectiveness of the attack, Coco hit the release on her briefcase, feeling the mechanisms whirr into place until she was holding her own gun. Under their combined fire, the geist’s house body shuddered, making furrows in the scorched earth as it was forced backwards. A horrible, angry squeal bubbled up from within the house. Then the time on Velvet’s copy ran out. Too late, Coco realized she wouldn’t be able to stop the geist with just the fire from her gun.

She felt more than saw the geist rear back. Then it bucked forward, launching a jagged plank of wood straight for Velvet.

Coco didn’t even stop to think.

She threw herself in front of the attack, hearing Velvet’s scream echo in her ears. Time seemed to stop for a minute.

And then the beam struck.

For a moment, Coco felt nothing. But then with a painful wrenching in her gut, her aura shattered and searing pain blossomed across her face. She hit the ground and skidded across it, rolling over and over like a rag doll. Velvet hadn’t stopped screaming. And now the cries from the little faunus girl joined in.

“Coco!! Coco!!!” Velvet’s shouts had changed. Before they had been simply terrified, and now they were full of some all-consuming rage. Coco blinked. She could barely see, blood swamping her vision and a painful weariness tugging at her consciousness. She tried to stagger to her feet, to no avail. She collapsed as soon as she tried to put weight on one, shaking arm. Through her hazy vision, she barely made out Velvet glowing with the blue light of a second summoned weapon. Except, it wasn’t a weapon, not quite. Coco had only seen the likes of this once before, and that was on a night she tried hard to forget. Still, she recognized it as the giant, armor-clad arm that Weiss Schnee had summoned to protect Velvet all those years ago.

Coco’s vision went black.

…

Velvet was still trembling when Coco woke up. She was pressed up against her leader in their shared hospital bed, the little faunus girl happily sleeping while snuggled up in her arms. The doctors had tried to take her away from Velvet the minute they’d reached the hospital, but the little girl hadn’t allowed it. She had screamed as loud as she could, all the while her little hands curled into the front of Velvet’s shirt. It had been clear that she had no intention of letting go. Velvet sighed deeply, then jumped as a hand began rubbing her back soothingly.

“Hey.” A raspy voice came from behind her.

“C-Coco! You’re awake!” She gasped, back going rigid.

“Yeah. Guess I got hit pretty bad, huh?” She laughed ruefully, and Velvet felt tears prick the corners of her eyes, “Wait, are you okay? Why are you in bed with me? And what happened to that kid?!”

Slowly, Velvet rolled over, turning to face Coco and revealing the little girl tucked snugly in her arms.

“She’s fine, Coco. And I’m alright, too. Just a few bumps and bruises, really.” The gashes in her skin were a little more serious than just ‘bumps and bruises,’ but they were nothing compared to the injury Coco had sustained. That seemed to be dawning on Coco as well.

Velvet watched sadly as Coco gently reached up to touch the bandage that covered half her face. The leader grimaced, her left eye finding Velvet’s.

“How bad is it?” She asked in a low voice.

“They say… they say you won’t be able to see out of.. out of your right eye anymore. And there will be a scar…” Velvet said quietly. Coco nodded grimly, running her hand once more over the bandage.

“What else happened? Where are Fox and Yatsu?” Coco asked.

“They’re probably in the waiting room. Wanted to give us a little space for when you woke up… they’re just fine. They managed to take out the first geist and got to us just in time… I was holding my own, but after you went down it was just a matter of time before the second one got me and this little one.’ Velvet softly ran her thumb over the little faunus girl’s cheek, still pudgy with baby fat.

“Coco, why would you do something so stupid?!” Velvet suddenly burst out, angry and sad and guilty all at the same time. “You nearly got yourself killed! And now it’s my fault, you’re gonna have a scar and be blind in one eye and it’s all because I was too dumb not to listen to you and run away an-”

“Hey, hey now,” Coco stopped her, placing a calming hand on Velvet’s shoulder, “There wasn’t much to be done. It was a dangerous situation. We didn’t have all the details, nobody could’ve known there was a second geist. There was nowhere to run, anyway. Taking that blow was my choice, because in the heat of the moment I couldn’t see any better way of protecting you two. And when it comes down to it, as the leader of team CFVY,  it’s my duty to protect my teammates at all costs. And as a huntress, it’s my duty to protect the innocent with my life. I was just doing my job, really.” Coco shrugged. Velvet burst into tears, before leaning in to catch Coco off guard with a fierce kiss.

“Don’t ever do that again! I don’t care if you are leader - in fact, as leader you have to do a better job at keeping yourself safe, since you’re so vital to the team! Promise me, tell me you won’t do something like that ever again!” Velvet said when she pulled away. Coco simply gave her a cheeky smile.

“With our line of work, I don’t know if I can keep that ‘un. How about this; I’ll promise to be a better leader, and work to keep all of us as safe as possible so that, with any luck, none of us will have to make that choice again?” Coco said, and Velvet simply huffed at the answer.

“That feels like a cop out.”

“Take it as you will. But don’t worry, despite appearances I really don’t want to do something like that again. I gotta stick around, otherwise who else is gonna help you raise this kiddo?” Coco said, leaning in for a second kiss. Velvet sighed. She basked in the feeling of all of them being alive, and safe.

“Wait a sec, raise this kid? Us?” Velvet said, realizing the implications of Coco’s statement.

“Well, yeah. She seems pretty fond of you. And I don’t want to send her off to an orphanage or whatever. How old did they say she was?”

“The doctors estimate about eight months…” Velvet whispered, looking down at the sleepy bundle curled in her arms, “And… alright, I can’t deny that I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to… be her mom.” Coco grinned at Velvet’s answer.

“So… what should we name her!? Maybe Vanilla or Cotton? Man, there are so many names.” Coco immediately burst out, leaning over to better look at the baby. Velvet smiled sleepily, her eyelids beginning to feel heavy with weariness. The day had been long and terrifying, and had taken its toll on her emotionally as well as physically.

“Coco, go to sleep. We can discuss names tomorrow.” Velvet yawned. She felt Coco make a tiny sound of agreement, before snuggling back into the pillows. Then she closed her eyes, and let sleep overtake her.

[raywritesthings]

She Makes Him Laugh

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Wilfred Mott, Donna Noble, Tenth Doctor Pairing: Doctor/Donna Summary:  Donna and the Doctor bring back a present for Wilf. AO3 link

Wilfred Mott was woken from a light doze one late afternoon by the strangest sound he’d heard in his life. A sort of wheezing and groaning that would’ve had anyone taking their car down to the mechanic’s in a fright. He sat up, startled, in his chair — Sylvia was always saying he should just go to bed, but he never meant to fall asleep and anyway his back never minded it too much — and looked about blearily.

The noises had stopped, so he got himself on his feet and shuffled to the front door. A glance up and down the block didn’t reveal anything immediate. He wandered out onto the path all the same.

Then distantly, he heard a new sound. A faint, high pitched whirr. It was coming from the back! Quickly, Wilf turned and cut through the house out to the back door. There was nothing there either, but when he looked up the hill—

“Oh!” Wilf said to himself quietly. There it was, the blue box! And there was his granddaughter and that alien Doctor of hers. Wilf hurried up the hill as fast as he could.

Long before he approached he could hear the two of them talking.

“You’re sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Course I do, Donna. You’ve seen me take apart and reassemble more complicated things than this.”

“Yeah, but this is important.”

“So was the missile defense system on Fanfarna.”

“It’s special then. You’ve no idea how much my mum and dad spent on this. Gramps would be heartbroken.”

“And Sylvia would be furious, I’m sure.”

“Oi! We can’t all go around sonicing cash machines and breaking the Bank of England!”

“I’ve never broken the Bank of England! Well, I have broken in, but in fairness my judgement was severely impaired at the time.”

“You what?”

“Long story. Point is, I will not break this telescope and bankrupt the entire Noble-Mott family. Don’t you trust me?”

“Seriously wondering right about now.”

“Donnaaa.”

“Fine, yes! I trust you. Happy?”

“Brilliant!”

He crested the hill just in time to see the Doctor grinning broadly up at Donna from where he was crouched down by his telescope. They’d gotten it out of the shed he kept it locked in somehow, and his granddaughter had been hovering beside it protectively. Now she backed up, though her doing so allowed the alien to catch sight of him.

“Oh, Wilfred! Hello!”

Donna whirled about. “There goes surprising him. Hey, Gramps!”

“I’d say this is a surprise all on its own, you two turning up,” he remarked, embracing his granddaughter. “Hey! What’s brought you back here, then? Taking a break from all them aliens and planets?”

“Yeah, bit of one. How’ve you and mum been?”

“Oh, just fine,” he dismissed. “Nothing to report. Not anything exciting as what you’ve got, eh?” He looked eagerly between them. “You could come down to the house, have a cuppa. What’s all this about then?” He gestured to his telescope still standing between the pair.

It was only now that he noticed the Doctor holding a strange silver instrument with a blue tip in one hand. “Just a bit of tinkering. Nothing to worry about, Wilf. You’re getting an upgrade.”

“Upgrade?”

“We were on this rest stop for a sort of space highway,” Donna explained. “Rocketships, the proper kind, that sort of thing. He skips all that normally.”

“And a good thing, too. The traffic’s murder,” the Doctor remarked, hitting a button on his device that made the same whirring noise Wilfred had heard earlier. It glowed and he watched in fascination as the screws of his telescope undid themselves and fell one by one into his open palm.

“Anyway,” Donna continued smoothly over the alien, “they were selling these telescopes for real cheap. I thought it’d be wizard if I could bring you back one of those. You’d be able to see all sorts of stuff from right here! This one,” she said, indicating the Doctor with a tilt of the head, “said I couldn’t do that, though.”

“It’s dangerous to introduce future technology to the past, Donna,” the Doctor rattled off without even looking up from his work.

She’d clearly anticipated his response, for she didn’t even bat an eye before saying, “I hardly knew you half an hour before you were giving me stuff.”

The Doctor glanced at her for a moment. “Just the ring.”

“He gave you a ring?” Wilf asked with interest, the first he’d been able to cut into their seamless back-and-forth.

Donna blanched. “Not like that. It was a bio-damper-thing, for the wedding.”

“The wedding?”

“My wedding. The one at Christmas,” she elaborated to his slight disappointment.

"Wasn't exactly a wedding, as it turned out," the Doctor muttered, grinning as Donna leveled him with a glare that would've had most men running for cover.

Sylvia had said she’d seen the Doctor there. Wilf still didn’t know the whole story, but it was shaping up to be a rather good one from the sounds of it!

“Alright,” he agreed. “So what does this have to do with the telescope I’ve got? It’s just fine, really.” The Doctor had made quick work of disassembling it in front of his eyes, and while he trusted this man to take care of his granddaughter he couldn’t help a slight apprehension over his most prized possession.

“Fine, I suppose, for the twenty-first century,” the Doctor allowed. “But you’ve seen all it could show you on its own and you know there’s more out there, don’t you, Wilf? An astronomer like you! Just isn’t right for you to be limited.”

“Will you get on with it?” Donna requested, prodding the alien in the shoulder. She was smiling all the while though, and kept looking to Wilf eagerly.

The Doctor obliged her. “The reason it’s a bad idea to introduce future tech into the past is the risk that it might fall into the wrong hands. Alter the timeline, erase the future events that led to its creation in the first place — wham! Big paradox.” The alien paused his tinkering to address him directly. “But Donna reckons you can be trusted, Wilfred Mott, and I trust Donna Noble’s judgement more than most things in the universe.”

“Whatever it is, Doctor, I wouldn’t dream of letting someone else get ahold of it,” he assured, standing up just a little straighter.

“And that’s the plan!” The alien took something out of his pocket. It looked like a pair of tiny mirrors. “I’m building the future technology into your telescope. Outside casing will look exactly the same to the casual observer. We’ll be the only ones who know the difference.” He winked up at Donna, then hefted the telescope into his arms. “Should have it done before nightfall, and then you can give it a go.”

“Oh, well, that's wonderful! Thank you, Doctor.”

“Don’t go thanking him yet. Let’s see if it works first,” Donna cautioned.

“I told you I’ve built things a hundred times more complex than this, Donna!” The Doctor insisted in an injured tone.

“He’s told me only about a hundred times, too,” she quipped. “Might as well have that cuppa while we wait. I’ve got so much to tell you. Oi, Spaceman, you want any?” His granddaughter called over her shoulder as she led him back down the hill.

“Oh yes,” replied the Doctor, re-immersed in the telescope parts.

“Yes what?”

“Please. And don't forget to tell him about the Kravani! You were brilliant with them.”

“I’ll get to it when I get to it.” Donna shook her head. They entered the kitchen and she set to work starting the kettle and pulling mugs down from the cupboard. She also fetched the sugar, which neither of them took — he used to, but Sylvia said it wasn't good for his health and she always made such a fuss.

“So the Kravani, was it?”

“It’s been two weeks since then. Honestly, he never shuts up about it, I swear.” She glanced at Wilf and her lips quirked in bemusement. “What are you smiling about?”

“Oh, just happy you’re home, sweetheart,” he answered.

“Sure. You were the one saying to go off and see the universe,” she reminded shrewdly.

“Well a visit in between every now and then can’t hurt.”

“No,” she agreed with a smile. “So, let me think. What did I tell you about last?”

“There was that planet with the- the Odd fellas or something, I think.”

“Ood. Yeah, that sounds right.”

She launched back into the fantastic stories of her travels. Planets, Agatha Christie, half-fish people. It all sounded so marvellous, and he was thrilled to know it was his granddaughter experiencing it of all people with that Doctor of hers. The way she spoke about him — dazzling, she’d called him the last time, and that clearly hadn’t changed. And from the little Wilfred had been able to observe of the Doctor thus far, it seemed a very mutual feeling.

The kettle boiled and then Donna was busying herself with the tea. She used a liberal amount of sugar for the third mug, stirring it in as she continued to talk, then left it to cool on the counter while bringing his and hers to the table.

“And that about covers it, I think,” she said eventually. Then she glanced to the counter at the third mug, which was no longer steaming quite as much. “That’s probably done.” She stood and stuck her head out the back door. “Doctor! Tea’s ready.”

He heard footfalls on the hill and then Donna was letting the alien past her into the kitchen. “Nearly finished. Just one or two tweaks and then it should be good as new. Better, actually!”

“Oh, it could’ve waited, really. I meant to tell Donna she ought to call you down sooner, but she was just telling me all the wonderful things you two have been doing out there.”

“Nah, it’s for his own good. He never lets it cool on his own. Burns his tongue every time,” Donna informed him, rolling her eyes with a look caught somewhere between fond and exasperated.

“Guilty as charged,” said the Doctor, who had just taken an incredibly large gulp from his mug. He smacked his lips together. “So, ready to see some new planets?”

“Well I suppose I better be!” Wilfred remarked with a chuckle. Donna smiled, looking between him and the alien. He stood, dropping his mug off in the sink on the way. “Will there be aliens on them?”

“Some,” the Doctor answered.

“How about those whatsit, potato people?”

“Sonteran,” Donna helped him.

“Sontaran, Donna,” the Doctor corrected automatically. He looked more amused than anything at what appeared to be an old argument. “And no, their planet is far away from this galaxy. Fortunately.” He drained the rest of his mug and then was leading their little group all back up the hill. He'd grabbed Donna's hand so she walked along at his side, and Wilf brought up the rear.

Wilfred settled himself in his chair, waiting as the Doctor fiddled a few moments more with the telescope. It was completely dark by the time he and Donna placed it in front of him.

“Controls are all the same. Now, just to give you an idea of what she can do, I think I’ll pick out the first planet.” The alien looked through it and slowly adjusted where it was pointed to until stopping suddenly. “Oh yes! That’s a good one. What do you think?”

He’d asked Wilf’s granddaughter knelt beside him and motioned Donna forward, holding the telescope steady as she leaned in close for a look.

“It’s gorgeous! Which one is that?”

“Well, the name’s a bit tricky. It’s officially part of the Trappist-1 system, a dwarf star in the constellation Aquarius discovered by humanity right at the turn of the century. They won’t spot the exoplanets till a bit into your future. This one was originally named Trappist-f, but there was a Twitter poll and, well, things got ugly.”

Donna looked away from the telescope and to the Doctor quizzically. “Twitter?”

“Oh, right. It’s only just got started, hasn’t completely taken off yet. That’s in your future, too.” He grinned at her, and Donna grinned right back. The two of them burst into laughter. He'd never seen Donna so carelessly happy before, and the Doctor, well, there was nothing but joy in his expression as he looked at her and laughed.

One of his hands was resting on the small of Donna’s back.

As if sensing Wilf’s eyes, the Doctor looked round and his hand was quickly snatched away. “Er, but why don’t we let Wilfred see for himself?” Donna also turned in his direction, shifting back from the Doctor and looking a little red in the face to him, even in the dark.

“Yeah, Gramps, give it a go,” she urged quickly. “Here we are hogging your telescope. Not like we can’t just have a look at it ourselves later up close.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. Nothing quite like stargazing sometimes,” he said, leaning forward in his chair. He thought to mention its rather romantic nature, but decided that might be showing his hand a little much.

Then he’d put his eye to the telescope and forgot nearly everything else.

“Oh. Oh!” He’d certainly never seen anything quite like this planet before. And certainly never so clear. “That’s an alien planet?”

“Uninhabited right now, actually. What’s exciting about it is that it and its fellows are terrestrial, and three of them fall within the habitable zone.”

“Habitable for us?” He looked to the Doctor and got a nod. “So we might get there someday?”

“Oh, humans,” the alien gave a fond shake of the head, “you lot will get everywhere.”

“He’s not kidding. I’ve seen it,” Donna added. “All across the universe.”

“Amazing,” breathed Wilf. “Just amazing.” He went back to looking through the telescope, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. Yet the Doctor and Donna were the living, breathing proof. The things they’d seen, this was only a fraction.

All three were startled by the sound of a car door slamming around the other side of the house.

“That’ll be mum,” Donna realized.

“You two better be off, then,” said Wilf. He was sad to see them go, even if it meant his Donna was getting back out there and seeing the stars with her Doctor at her side. “Stop by whenever you’ve got some more stories.”

He stood to hug Donna, who murmured in his ear, “We will.”

The Doctor returned his salute with a nod. “Wilfred, always a pleasure.”

“And you, Doctor. Thank you.”

He shook his head. “Thank Donna. All her idea, and a rather brilliant one as always, I’d say.”

The alien looked at her for a moment, and it was clear to even a human like Wilf the emotion on his face. Then he ducked his head and stepped into his box.

Donna lingered. “Listen, just tell mum I said hello, I suppose.”

“I will,” he promised. “Oh, Donna?”

She’d half-turned towards the blue box herself, but looked back round. “Yeah, Gramps?”

“That ring the Doctor gave you — he ever ask for it back?”

Donna tensed. “No. Why?”

Wilfred affected a shrug. “No reason,” he said lightly.

A frown appeared on her face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, I may not know much about alien blokes, but when a man gives you a ring—”

“Oh, don’t you start,” she warned. “We are not together.”

“Donna?” The Doctor called from inside the ship. “Everything alright?”

“Coming!” She lowered her voice again and said, “Seriously, not even close.”

“If you say so, sweetheart.”

She watched him through narrowed eyes for a moment. “I’ll come round soon as I can,” she eventually stated. “See you, Gramps.”

“Go see those stars!”

She cracked a smile again, then was walking through the doors of the Doctor’s ship to rejoin her alien. Wilfred backed up a couple steps as that wheezing and groaning he’d first heard began anew, and the ship slowly faded away from sight. He let out a laugh. How marvellous!

The back door opened moments later. “Dad, are you up there on the hill? What was that racket?”

“No idea,” he answered. “Must have been one of the neighbors or something.”

“And what are all these mugs doing in the sink? Did you have company?” Sylvia demanded.

Wilfred smiled to himself. “Don’t you worry about that, love. I’ll do the washing up.” He looked back to his newly improved telescope and then up to the stars. Maybe some night he’d be gazing up at all those undiscovered planets and see a little blue box and the wonderful couple — whether they knew it or not — that traveled in it.

“Just give us a few,” he called down.

[tarysande]

Fic Update: Any Four Walls: Active Duty

On AO3

#

Active Duty

Time off active duty hadn’t dulled Shepard’s sense of impending danger. Now, of course, that instinct mostly came in handy when Rose was about to attempt something doomed to end in blood and a trip to the hospital. Still, as she sat off to the side around a crowded table watching her husband attempt to both smooth ruffled feathers and remain firm about the political stances the still-new Council deemed important, the prickle of the skin at the back of her neck went from mildly irritating to downright distracting. Had she been in the field, it would have been enough to make her draw her weapon. She simply couldn’t put her finger on why. Splitting political hairs was nothing new, after all, no matter how heated the opposition.

Her lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile and dragged her hands through her hair in an attempt to soothe herself. Doubtless it was something ridiculous. Probably some deep-seated fear for the children, though Shepard had ample proof Solana was capable of rising to any occasion—even if that occasion was two bundles of giggles, pranks and inexhaustible energy. She glanced at the time. Half an hour until the next scheduled break; she’d call then, even if it meant enduring Solana’s inevitable ribbing about people who worried too much.

The prickle did not subside.

When a turian aide entered quietly and began scanning the room, the feeling of not right, not right, be on alert only intensified. His gaze lingered for a moment on Garrus, then shifted until it landed on her. This was followed by a brief, beckoning gesture. She rose at once, moving along the outside of the room as stealthily as she was able to without actually resorting to using her tactical cloak.

Nothing good ever came of aides interrupting meetings to whisper in ears. Especially when they wore expressions as serious as this one wore.

Garrus, speaking calmly at the front of the room while another politician shouted at him about impossible demands, ridiculous concessions, never paused, but she felt his eyes follow her out. If she knew him—and she did—he’d find a way to wrap things up without anyone realizing he’d maneuvered the end of the meeting far too early.

He was getting good at that. Diplomacy. It might have made her smile, if the abrupt appearance of the turian aide hadn’t struck such a discordant, sour note in her.

What do you need me to do?

But no, it wasn’t that, not anymore. Now it was, what’s happened to the children?

The turian didn’t quite meet her eyes. He hunched a little into his cowl, mandibles pulled tight to his face. “Comman—sorry, Admiral. Admiral Shepard. I’m sorry to interrupt—”

“I’m sure you’ve got a good reason, Lieutenant…?”

He blinked at her. His eyes were very green. His markings were the same color. Though it was never particularly easy to place a turian’s age—not for her, anyway—she had the distinct impression this one was still very new to his commission. “Vatix, ma’am. And yes, ma’am. Uh, General Fedorian sent me.”

A mantle of cold clarity settled over her. She saw every anxious twitch in the turian standing before her. She heard the faint metallic whirr of the environmental systems, and over that the faintest hum of Garrus’ voice. If she’d been wearing a hardsuit, she’d have already pulled up her HUD, she’d have already been planning.

The aide looked very much as though he anticipated being the messenger doomed to get shot after delivering his message. With every nerve singing, every instinct she’d thought dormant pulled taut, she could not actually bring herself to disabuse him of this possibility.

“Go on. Is there a reason Naxus didn’t come himself?”

“Comms are dampened in here. As you know. To prevent interruptions?”

“I am aware, Lieutenant Vatix. Could we skip to the message, please? Is it Solana? The children?”

Whatever he saw on her face made the aide cough and continue quickly, “Oh. Yes, of course. Sorry, ma’am. No, he didn’t mention his wife or your children. He asked me to escort you to his office.”

“To what purpose?”

“He didn’t elaborate. Only said it was urgent.”

She closed her eyes for the moment it took to inhale a sharp, annoyed breath. “You could have opened with that, Lieutenant. Let me get Garrus—”

“He asked for you, ma’am. He said it wasn’t something, uh, requiring Councilor Vakarian’s presence.” Vatix shifted from one foot to the other. “He did have a human visitor with him.” His mandibles flicked once before drawing tight to his face once again. “Sorry, ma’am. I—should have mentioned that. He did tell me to.”

“Yes,” she agreed, narrowing her eyes and gesturing for him to precede her. “Lead on, Lieutenant.”

After two or three attempts at conversation were met with yet more nervousness and single-syllable, stammered replies, Shepard fell into silence at Vatix’s side. Her skin did not stop its incessant prickling. Her fingers itched to close around the grip of a pistol, and it took some effort to keep the bland smile on her face and her hands still at her sides. Vatix, she noted, did not have her self-control; his long digits tapped a random, nervous pattern against his thigh.

“So, is it hero worship or hate?” Shepard asked, after turning down two different hallways—each emptier than the last—and enduring another agonizing minute of total silence. “No judgement. Just curious.”

“Sorry?” Vatix asked, and though she was not nearly as expert at reading other turian subharmonics as she was Garrus and Tyrra, the young lieutenant’s discomfort was palpable even to her.

“Effortlessly being able to start conversations is something of a point of personal pride,” Shepard returned, carefully modulating her own voice. Friendly. Even. Interested. “I can’t figure out why you won’t oblige me.” She smiled mildly. “I’m not used to being thwarted. I figure you’re nervous because you’ve heard one too many exaggerated stories, or you hate my guts. Either’s fair.”

Vatix didn’t laugh. His fingers stopped tapping and immediately headed for the flap of the pocket they’d been dancing over during the entire length of their walk. Her skin burned. Before she could second-guess herself—or let the words galactic incident—override her instinct and the relatively unsubstantiated evidence she’d collected, she wrapped her fingers around his reaching wrist, spun to catch his arm behind his back, and brought one foot down on the back of his left spur with just enough pressure to ensure he froze. His audible breath wheezed with barely controlled pain. Wrex would’ve said Vatix had a quad; Shepard knew how damned sensitive—and vulnerable—an unarmored spur was. She had, of course, been counting on it.

“You want to tell me what’s really going on here, Vatix?”

“General Fedorian—”

“Wouldn’t have sent you. He’d have sent someone who knows damned well I can find his office without help.” He tried to rise up to give himself leverage to ease her pressure on his arm, but this only brought more weight down on his spur. His breath came in swift and shallow gasps. “Not my first rodeo. And I’m good with maps.”

Vatix said nothing. She put a little more of her weight on his spur, feeling the give. She didn’t think the high-pitched whine he emitted was intentional. “You want to try again?”

“It’s too late, anyway,” Vatix gasped.

Much as she wanted to finish the work she’d started on his spur, she wanted answers more. She twisted his arm further, pulling it nearly from its socket. Plates weren’t much use at the joints. Part of the reason for the bulkiness of turian armor was protection at those weakest junctures. Vatix wasn’t wearing armor any more than she was, and whatever advantage his height might have given him in hand to hand was lost to her strength and better positioning.

What do you need me to do?

“For what?” she snarled, applying just enough pressure to make him yelp. With her free hand, she reached into the pocket he’d been toying with and retrieved a syringe prepped full of a liquid she couldn’t identify. Her guts twisted and she swallowed down the bile and bitter panic that always threatened to overwhelm her when she saw needles. Of all the goddamned ridiculous things. “You’ve got about thirty seconds before I use one of the half-dozen ways I know how to kill your species without needing a weapon.” Her fingers tightened reflexively around the syringe. “Or maybe I’ll just give you a taste of your own medicine, here. Whatever the hell it is.”

“You think I’m afraid to die? I just needed to get you out of the way. And I did. I did. Your time is done.” Vatix’s subharmonics steadied; even through the pain, Shepard heard the confidence. The zealotry. She wished she didn’t have quite so much experience with zealotry; the tenor of it was unmistakable. And terrifying. “You think we’re blind? No. We see your fingerprints on everything Vakarian does. We know his face is the mask you wear to control the weak turians who wish only for new overlords to appease. We’ve had enough. We will have turian sovereignty again, free from humanity’s pestilent influence. We carried your people through the war and—”

Shepard didn’t let him finish. “So it was hate then. Good to know.”

The steps of this dance were familiar, for all she’d been avoiding practicing. Like a waltz. One-two-three, one-two-three; nothing so complicated as a tango. On one, she finished dislocating his shoulder. On two, she shattered his left spur beneath her foot. On three, she crushed the other, effectively hamstringing him. Another turn around the floor would’ve seen him cooling in a pool of his own blue blood, but she paused, thinking of his words, his warning. Thinking about time.

By the time he hit the floor, screaming, Shepard was already running.