#it's because ive been considering going by this name for a minute but physically could not do it because the most recent

[ghoul-haunted]

every day I watch another show where a character is named Dino and at this point I feel like it's either a sign or an extremely funny cosmic joke

[prettyboykatsuki]

ari um im losing my mind in the most silent way possible rn bc of oliver bllk i cannot believe it. i refuse to admit he got me though but also i think it would be a crime to not acknowledge just a testament to how good the emotional payoff to your writing is

i was stuck when he kept asking for trust during the hookup bc being caught off guard like that due to emotional bleedthrough rings so true in emotionally strange situationships.

i think when you write super perceptive characters like oliver who use sex as a way to communicate what they can’t/won’t verbally say, i truly understand how consuming the psychological aspect of sex can be. like physically demanding yes sure. but for someone to so deeply sink into your psyche that it elevates the entire experience? effectively centering you and your pleasure while talking you through it and stripping every discomfort away? oh i’m so unfortunately stuck on this big bastard. ive never felt my face go so hot so fast and i have never ever stopped to consider that Name in any of these contexts i am shaking him and you by the collar right this minute.

oh my goodness beloved!! hello skjsjd and i understand i do not wish to desire that guy even half as much as i currently i am. im just. like miserably hyperfixated on him to the point its a little life ruining. but i am also glad i could invoke that in you!!!

YES....YOU SEE IT...with oliver it is all about the unspoken you know...the silent communication.. the trusting him with one of your needs but not all and yet sometimes he is so reliable in every aspect...he moves me sometimes..... i dont know

this last part........im crying and throwing up. that is always what i want to communicate!!!! im glad!! i think for a lot of more emotionally dishonest / stoic characters, they communicate themselves in action and sex is ultimately An Action. but for someone like oliver (who by all means and measures is a fascinating soccer player) it is even more apparent that he has a deep understanding of you that translates into sex unintentionally.

having consistent casual sex with someone is, no matter what anyone says, a way of getting to know them quite deeply. and oliver is already perceptive, already intelligent, already self-aware. he is one of the few characters who really does do casual sex well, and the feelings you develop for him outside of that are what make his dynamic So Interesting.

his indirect sincerity towards you in always meeting your sexual needs bubbling into him doing the same in a much, much more tender way all while having full faith that it will be good for you. because he knows whats good for you. because the quiet casual intimacy is always there even though there's never been any explicit romance in it... he makes me fucking nuts i hate everything sdkjhkjdsk

[thorntonkrell-blog-blog]

The Mystery of Paulpaula

Although my mystery polyp was not clearly identified, I had named it Paulpaula as I didn't know whether. it was male or female.

Going into my third colonoscopy in eight months, Paulpaula had been discovered, approximately located and tattoed by Dr. Matthews my gastroentolgist who didn't have the surgical skills to removed it. My surgeon Dr. James was about to attempt thay mission wiith an "aggressive" colonoscopy.

The night before the colonoscopy was sleepless for me and full of cleansing both physical, spiritual and emotional. Of course I watched teevee throughout the vigilant night. Weirdly enough I started watching The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis and binged my way through the entire first season originally broadcast in 1959 which featured high school Dobie played by Dwayne Hickman in pathetic, futile, romantic pursuit of Thalia Meninger as played by Tuesday Weld. Dobie's rival for the affection of Thalia was rich guy Milton Armitage as played by Warren Beatty just before he became a movie star. As usual, Dobie was aided/confounded by his "beatnik" friend Maynard G Krebs played by Bob Denver who would soon go on to become Gillgan in Gilligan's Island. Maynard's speech pattern was a preview of coming generations as he included the word "like" in almost every sentence.

I attached waaay too much significance to each episode as I considered the ramifications of the upcoming procedure and the navigation required to get us this far. In other words, I was wide, wide awake and my memory was operating at full capacity. For the rest of my life, I'm gonna remember the episode that I watched around 3 in the morning when Maynard gets drafted.

We had to get to the hospital at ten in the morning for the 12;30 procedure. By 10:15 I was in the pre-op room wearing my hospital gear with the open back and the funky socks with the tread on the bottom so I wouldn't fall down.

By 10:45, I had the IV in my arm. Lynn sat patiently beside me during all of this fallderall. Finally at 12:30, Dr. James my surgeon entered the room and asked me if I was ready because he was. We shook hands and ten minutes later, they were wheeling me into the operating room.

I hadn't been in an operating room for 65 years but in the last year, I've been in one four times and this one made five. The operating room is always kind of a freakout at first. The nurses are chipper and outgoing and ready to go in. The Doctor had his back to me as if he were going over some last minute notes. Now that I'm an old pro in the operating room, I told them my standard OR joke.

" A skeleton walked into a bar. The bartender said,'whaddya you need?' to which the skeleton replied "a beer and a mop.'"

They laughed. I was glad they got the joke.

They had me turn on my left side leaving my behind exposed. I asked them if I would remember this and they said "oh yeah but you're not gonna remember much of anything else after this because we started the juice.

Next thing I knew, I was in a recovery room with Lynn by my side. Dr. James came into the room and told us the good news that the mystery polyp had been found, captured, removed and finger printed.

Beautiful.

It didnt appear to be cancerous but it was going to examined to make sure there had been no "malignant transmission" to the nearby lymph nodes We felt very relieved and thankful and I was hungry. It had gone about as well as could be expected, Paulpaula was no longer onboard. Only the official biopsy remained.

Stay tuned.

[machine-gun-casie]

tavern music

synopsis: corpse hears tavern music coming from your room (gn!reader)

warnings: rpf, reader gets cheated on, kind of unrequited feelings, mostly hurt/comfort and physical affection tho (what im trying to say is that this is mostly self indulgent)

wc: 1.7k

a/n: havent written in a while but i found this in my arsenal, fixed it up a bit and viola. original plans for this was definitely something longer that would end with them being together but im not up for writing rn. been feeling really shitty lately and ive been needing something like this in my life. hope u guys like it ♡

He couldn’t hear it at first. His headset was on and everyone was being so loud on the discord call. When he started the stream, he really thought it was gonna be a long one. But he’s only two hours in and he’s ready to get the hell off because something was definitely wrong.

“Corpse?” His name being spoken finally broke him out of his trance, he only hummed in response. “You’ve been really quiet. Are you sure you’re up for another game?”

“Actually,” he starts as he closes a few tabs, “I think I’ve gotta go. Today was fun, though. Thanks for having me guys.”

After a chorus of ‘goodbye’s and ‘see you later’s, Corpse disconnected from the discord call. “Thank you guys for being here,” he addressed the chat, “sorry I’m ending so early today. I promise I’ll make it up to you next time. Take care of yourselves. Later.”

After hanging up his headset and getting out of the chair he’s been sitting in for far too long, Corpse made the short trek to your room. 

You had only been roommates for less than four months, but Corpse could confidently say that you have become one of his closest friends. Getting a roommate was the last resort that he never wanted to actually resort to. But alas, medical bills were piling up and youtube and music don’t make half as much money as people think they do. So cutting rent in half was the best plan he could come up with. He did have an extra guest room that no one ever stayed in. Of course having someone move into his personal space was terrifying to him. He didn’t just want to post an ad on craigslist or something. So he asked a couple trusted friends to ask a couple trusted friends… And that’s when you came in.

You were the trusted friend of a trusted friend of a trusted friend. When you met, you didn’t make a comment about his voice. Your face sure as hell showed your surprise but you didn’t say anything. To Corpse, this meant one of two things. You either knew who he was but didn’t want to freak him out, or you didn’t know about his online persona and were just genuinely shocked by his voice. It only took a few minutes of knowing you to know that it was the latter. Thank god. You were like anyone your age with social media. You had a few accounts, followed a few people, but mostly used it to stay in contact with friends. 

It only took you guys a week to realize you had way too much in common. After many a late night when he wasn’t streaming, and many an early morning when he was just done streaming, you two became inseparable. Nothing could keep you apart.

Except for one thing.

You had a boyfriend.

There was nothing wrong with your boyfriend, per se. Just the fact that he was your boyfriend and Corpse was not. 

Yeah, Corpse definitely had feelings for you. 

But right now, feelings didn’t matter when he could hear tavern music coming from your room.

He knocked lightly and pushed the door open slowly. “y/n? Can I come in?”

No response came, just sniffles and sobs. The lack of refusal on your part gave him the courage he needed to open the door wider and step into your room. He had only been in your room a couple of times since you had moved in. But he had never been in a room that gave off the feeling of a person so well.

You were curled up on your bed, facing your open laptop screen and the tavern music coming from its speakers. With every sob shaking your chest, Corpse felt his heart break. “y/n,” he murmured softly, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s not working.” Came your reply, heavy with tears. “You said it would make you feel like you're going on an adventure but I still feel like crap.”

“What happened?” Corpse asked as he sat down on your bed, facing you. You slowly sat up and crossed your legs at your ankles in front of you.

“He-” You sighed heavily. “He cheated on me.”

“What?”

“He cheated on me -has been cheating on me- with my best friend. My little brother found out.” You groaned and dramatically dropped your head onto Corpse’s thigh. His hand immediately came in contact with your cheek as he brushed a few stray tears away.

There was rarely any physical contact between you and Corpse. Sometimes you’d give him a high five, sometimes he’d give you fist bump. And there was that one time you came up behind him at the grocery store and hugged his arm to your chest. You immediately whispered something along the lines of ‘creep won’t leave me alone’ followed by a loud ‘hey babe!’

Corpse could barely admit to himself how much he liked that.

But this? This felt good. Corpse’s large warm hand on your face somehow made you want to cry more but in a good way. The tenderness with which he held your face made your heart squeeze as it remembered moments like this with your boyf- ex boyfriend. But then it remembered your brother’s words.

“Hey, what’s up?” You spoke as you answered his call. Your brother wasn’t much of a caller, so it made you worry. 

“Hey, where are you right now?”

“I’m home, why?”

“y/n… There’s something I gotta tell you.” He sighed and you could clearly hear the guilt.

“Did you break my DS!” It was your first thought as you had given it to him the last time you had seen him. “Dude! I’ve had that since I was seven!”

“No no, I called about something else.” He cut you off mid-whine. “But also I did lose the pen.” You huffed out a sigh of frustration but stayed silent so he could tell you what he wanted to tell you. “I saw your boyfriend at the park today.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “And?” How did this warrant a phone call? 

“He was with Bob.” 

When you had met your best friend, your brother was only a toddler. He had decided that her name was Bob, so it stuck. You always called her Bob, she was saved as Bob in your phone, your whole family called her Bob. But you still didn't understand. Why was he calling you to tell you that your boyfriend and your best friend were at the park? 

“Why are you calling me about this? You know that they’re friends, right?” You let out a chuckle, albeit still pretty confused. “They’re allowed to hang out without me.” 

“They weren’t hanging out.” You could hear your brother push out a strained sigh. What wasn’t he telling you? “They were making out on the swing set. As in, both of them on one swing. And I double checked, it was definitely them. I-I told mom and she said not to tell you, but I couldn’t not tell you when I’m the one who saw it!”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say a word.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

There was no lying to yourself, you had doubts about your best friend and your boyfriend. But you constantly brushed it off. He wouldn’t hurt you like that. Hell, she couldn’t hurt like that. Not after everything you had been through together. 

But you had seen his call log by accident one time, he called her more than he did you. She face-timed him one time to ask his opinion about a dress she was going to buy while you were in the changing room. She had done a handful of things since your relationship with your boyfriend started that made you uneasy. If this was their first kiss, which was something you doubted, then they’ve both been emotionally attached to the other for far too long.

All those tender intimate moments, all those dates, throughout everything, he wasn’t faithful. Not emotionally, at least. None of those moments that you cherished meant anything to you anymore. He had played you. With none other than your best friend since middle school. You didn’t know who to be more mad at.

The thoughts of betrayal from someone who you considered a sister and the hurt of being cheated on made you nauseated.

So when the large warm hand on your face stroked your cheek again, you didn’t mind it. This was Corpse. Not your cheating boyfriend. Not your lying best friend. Corpse. And you knew that he would never hurt you.

“He’s been cheating on me for a while I think.” You mumbled against his sweatpants. “Maybe a couple months. I don’t know.” 

Corpse furrowed his brows in thought. You had told him you were going to visit your boyfriend for your one year anniversary next week. “Weren’t you go-”

“Yeah.”

“And Bob’s been your friend since-”

“Yeah.” Your chin wobbled as you answered. You brought your arms up around Corpse’s thigh and hugged it. It was a strange position, but you didn’t care. He was so warm and nice and hugging him properly required more movement on your end than you were willing to do.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Corpse sighed and reached out to untangle your arms from his leg. He gently pulled you across the few inches of bed between you and sat you in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, immediately sobbing into his shoulder. “Do you want me to turn off the music?” You shook your head no against him and he chuckled before he solemnly sighed. “When did you find out?” 

“When I came home.”

“But you came home hours ago. Have you been in here this whole time?” You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were streaming, didn’t wanna interrupt.” You shrugged.

“y/n,” he sighed disappointedly, “you’re my best friend. I can end a stream if you need me.”

“Okay.” Your voice, broken and weak and tired, made him feel so guilty. You had been crying your heart out for over two hours just down the hall from where he was.

He gently grabbed you by your hips and tried to push you away, but you only held on tighter and whimpered. “I just wanna get you some water.”

“I don’t want water.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You.” You whispered. “Please stay.” 

Fuck. How could he say no to that?

So he stayed.

[wellimaginethat]

Stitches: Part One

Pairing: Connor Rhodes x Sister!Reader

Requested?: Yes

Word Count: 3099

Author’s Note: This idea was super cute and I loved it, wish I could have gotten it written sooner for the lovely requester but stupid writers block hit. I decided I am going to make this into two parts

Trigger Warning(s): Hospital, needles, panic attack, injury, needing stitches, being bullied, physical assault

Disclaimer: I don’t owe nor am I affiliated with any of the Chicago shows, I just like to play with the characters

Summary: Y/N Rhodes is the younger sister of Connor, she’s been being picked on at school and it escalates to where she needs stitches and ends up in the ED, where she has a panic attack due to a fear of needles and hospitals, so Connor shows up to save the day.

Chicago Med Tags: @bethii1, @drakelover78, @lorenakaspersen​ (want to be tagged? message me!)

Y/N = Your Name

High school is rough, especially when you’re being bullied. But you tried to shrug it off and ignore it, but that just seemed to make it worse, so you tried talking to the teachers and the principal and that is how you landed in the ED.

You were brought in by the ambulance because you were pushed down a flight of concrete steps, luckily you didn’t get hurt too badly but the school called the ambulance regardless.

You absolutely hated hospitals, or rather you were terrified of them. You didn’t really have a reason for being afraid of hospitals, but they freaked you out. Everything about hospitals freaked you out. The doctors, the nurses, needles, the noises. Everything. And given that you were already upset over what happened, it just made it all worse.

When they wheeled you in, you heard the paramedic talking to a nurse.

“Sixteen year old female, pushed down a flight of concrete steps outside the high school, has a massive gash on her forehead and possibly some broken ribs.”

When they got you into the room, the nurse the paramedic had been talking to and a red headed doctor walked in.

“Hi my name’s Dr. Halstead, can you tell me your name?” The doctor asked

“Y/N Rhodes.” You managed to get out, your eyes were darting around and you looked uneasy.

The nurse looked at the doctor before looking at you. “You’re Connor’s little sister, aren’t you?” You nodded silently, feeling almost like a little kid. Dr. Halstead peaked out of the room and you heard him call your brother to your room.

The minute Connor walked in his face fell and he rushed to your side, checking you over and especially taking a look at the gash on your head. “God, Y/N, what happened?” He asked you in an incredibly worried tone, looking at you with an almost scared look in his eyes.

“Jake pushed me down the stairs at school.” You told him weakly, scared and sad. “He was mad because I told the principal about him.”

Connor nodded before looking at Dr. Halstead and nodding for him to head out of the room so they could talk.

The nurse approached you then with a soft smile. “My name is Maggie, how about I get an IV hooked up to get you some pain meds to help?” She asked you in a soft voice, noticing how scared you seemed.

“A-an IV? Doesn’t that involve a needle?” You asked, stuttering a bit. You shook your head violently, causing yourself to see stars, when she nodded. “No...no needles.” Maggie seemed hesitant but nodded a bit. “Alright, how about we wait on that until your brother gets back? Maybe he can ease your worries?”

You nodded a bit and watched as Maggie also stepped out of the room.

“I’ll talk to Goodwin about it, see if she’ll allow it this one time.” Connor told Will as they talked about five feet from your room, you couldn’t hear them but could see that Connor was discussing something with your doctor and it made you curious.

“Talk to Goodwin about what?” Sharon walked up behind him after hearing her name, looking at Connor.

Connor took a breath, thinking how best to broach the subject to her to convince her. “My sister was hurt.” He started out. “And she’s scared of hospitals and doctors and pretty much everything involving medicine.”

“I sense I know where this is going.” Sharon stated but waited for him to continue.

“Let me treat her.” Connor stated.

Will crossed his arms, waiting for Goodwin to tell him no.

Before Sharon had the chance, Connor spoke again. “She’s absolutely terrified and I’m afraid if someone else treats her it will cause her to have a panic attack.”

“And you think if you treat her you can avoid this?” Sharon asked him, skeptically.

Connor slowly nodded, a bit hesitant. “I believe so, yes. I know it goes against the code of ethics-”

Sharon cut him off, glancing over into your room and seeing how frightened you seemed before looking back at your brother. “I will make an exception.” She told him. “Due to the circumstances, I feel it’s in the patient’s best interest.”

Connor was beyond grateful and relieved. “Thank you.” He told her before heading back to your room. “Hey.” He said softly, moving over to take another look at the gash on your head. “So it looks like you’re gonna need stitches, okay?” Your eyes widened and you shook your head. “No no no no…” You started to panic.

Connor gently placed his hands on your shoulders. “Hey there, look at me.” He said softly, waiting until you looked at him. “It’s going to be okay, alright? I’m gonna take care of you and it’s all going to be okay.” He said softly.

You nodded silently but your eyes were still full of fear.

“Now Maggie is going to give you an IV, I want you to focus on me while she does that.” Connor said softly as Maggie took your arm in her gloves hands. “Just focus on me.”

You kept your eyes on him and winced when you felt the plastic tighten around your bicep, trying to brace yourself for the needle.

“Just keep focusing on me.” Connor said softly.

You squeaked when you felt the needle pierce the skin in the crook of your elbow but you managed to not panic or black out, which was an amazing feat.

“You did good.” Connor said softly, standing to get what he needed. “Now I’m going to have to give you a shot to numb the area so I can stitch up the gash, okay?”

“Wait!” You said quickly, stopping him before he had a chance to even get the syringe ready. When he looked at you, you met his eyes. “Just give me a second to prepare myself.” You said quietly, still trying to work through the emotions of getting the IV.

Connor nodded and set the syringe down on the sterilized tray, waiting until you were ready.

You took a couple of deep breaths before you nodded. “Okay...I think I’m ready.” You told him and he picked the syringe up.

“Do you want to hold my hand?” Maggie offered softly, holding her hand out to you.

You smiled weakly and nodded, taking her hand as you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself.

It went a lot better than you or Connor was expecting, soon enough the area surrounding the gash was numb and Connor was able to start stitching it up. Luckily, if the gash left a scar it was along your hairline so it would be less noticeable, and you’d be able to hide it with your hair.

“Alright, almost done.” Connor said as he did the last stitch and tied it, cutting off the excess and setting it off to the side before taking a seat. “Now, tell me again what happened.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. “Jake’s been bullying me for a while now, but it just keeps getting worse. After he beat me up yesterday, I told the principal and then today he attacked me again and pushed me down the steps outside of school when I was trying to leave.” You explained, looking at your hands. “It just keeps getting worse.”

“Sounds like maybe we should inform the cops.” Maggie remarked softly.

“Why? They probably won’t do anything.” You were convinced that you’d just have to deal with it.

“What he did today qualifies as assault.” Connor told you gently, agreeing with Maggie and nodding to her.

She disappeared out of the room, probably heading to call the police.

“It’ll just make it worse!” You exclaimed, worried, wanting Maggie to stop before she got the cops involved.

Connor hushed you gently, moving to sit on the bed beside you. “It’s not going to get worse.”

“You don’t know that!” You insisted, trying feebly to push him away when he carefully pulled you into a hug.

“I do know that, because I’m your big brother.” Connor told you. “And big brothers are supposed to protect their little sisters. I’m sorry I didn’t know what was going on before otherwise I would have done something a lot sooner.”

You sniffled. “What if the cops don’t do anything?” “Well then I guess I’ll just have to have a talk with Jake’s parents.” Connor replied.

“His parents can’t do anything, he’s eighteen.” You replied quietly, leaning into the hug more as exhaustion took over you. You just wanted to go home and pretend nothing happened.

“Well that means he’s an adult and the cops should do something considering he attacked a minor.” Connor told you, trying to ease your worries. He glanced out of the room and noticed your dad was standing at the nurse’s station. “I’ll be right back.” He told you softly, kissing the top of your head before pulling away from the hug slowly.

“I want to know where my daughter is.” Cornelius demanded of the nurse.

“I just need a name, sir.” The nurse tried to tell him in a polite voice.

“I’ve got this, Doris.” Connor told her, gaining the attention of his dad. He wasn’t thrilled to see him, but the two had an unspoken agreement that they would play nice whenever you were around. “She’s in here.” Connor motioned to where you were, leading your dad in.

“Dad.” You were honestly happy to see him, even though he was a pretty absent father, you still adored him and you were kind of his pride and joy for now, favoring you over your two older siblings.

Cornelius walked over. “What on earth happened?” “A boy attacked her at school.” Connor told him, crossing his arms. “Did you know she was being bullied?”

“Bullied?” Cornelius looked at Connor and back to you before looking back at your brother. “I had no idea.” Connor scoffed. “Figures.” He muttered under his breath, looking out of the room and taking his attention off you and your father as he watched for the police to arrive.

After your brother’s dramatic exit, you and your father both fell silent. You were keenly aware of the fact that your father favored you compared to your siblings, and that he and Connor had an especially strained relationship for some reason. Neither of them ever put you in the middle of it and they always attempted to play nice in your presence, keyword being attempted. As a child, you weren’t aware of the fact that they had issues, but now that you were getting older it was rather hard to ignore, especially in tense situations like this.

You could hear different sounds coming from different rooms in the ED and it made you uncomfortable, causing you to shift on the bed.

“Are you alright?” Your father looked at you with concern in his eyes.

You nodded silently at first. “Yeah. I’m fine.” You finally managed to reply in a quiet voice. “I just really don’t like hospitals.”

“Well after you’re released we’ll take you home and you can rest in the comfort of your own bed.”

You smiled tiredly at him and nodded. “Sounds good.”

It was a while longer before the cops finally showed up to ask you some questions, and that was when Connor finally came back into your room.

“Miss. Rhodes, can you tell us what happened?” A female cop asked you in a polite tone, like the kind adults use with children who seem upset.

You shifted on the bed again. “There’s this kid I go to school with and he’s been bullying me for a while now.” You told her, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear nervously. “It’s been getting worse and worse and today he pushed me down the front steps at school.”

The female cop wrote what you said down, nodding as she did so. “And what did you say his name was?”

You pulled your lip in between your teeth, chewing on it nervously.

Connor walked over to you and gently touched your arm to comfort you.

“Jake. Jacob Smith.” You corrected yourself, taking a deep breath. 

“And how long has this been going on?”

You thought about the question, trying to pinpoint just when Jake started bullying you. “About a year or so. It started when I was a freshman and just continued on. I think it was my second semester as a freshman.”

The cop nodded and was about to speak before your dad interrupted.

“We want to press charges.” He insisted.

You shrunk down a bit in your seat, knowing how your father could treat people, already embarrassed.

“We understand, Mr. Rhodes, but we do need to conduct an investigation into this first.”

“An investigation? Look at my daughter, she’s in the hospital for Christ’s sake! She’s traumatized!” He did have a point, but you knew the cops were just trying to do their jobs.

That’s when the male cop spoke up. “We understand that you’re upset, sir, but we need you to calm down and let us do our job.”

That didn’t bode well with your father.

“Dad, please.” You begged quietly, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. “Just let the cops do their job.”

Cornelius had a hard time saying no to you, given that you were the baby of the family and his favorite child, so he slowly backed down and took his seat at your bedside again.

“I hate to say it, but our dad has a point.” You brother spoke up, thankfully much calmer than your father. “She was attacked by this boy and it did cause her both physical and mental harm, so we would appreciate it if you could make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Both cops nodded to him. “We’ll talk to the witnesses, it was reported so we’re sure it will be a pretty open and shut case, but we do need to conduct an investigation.”

“We understand.” Connor told them, glancing over at his father before looking back at the cops. “Or at least I do.” He said in a lower voice as he walked out of the room with them.

It was a few minutes before Connor came back into the room.

“Thank you.” Your father told him tightly. “For agreeing with me instead of them.”

Connor didn’t respond, just shook his head a bit. He knew if he responded it would just lead to an argument and he didn’t want to put you through that.

“Can I go home?” You asked him quietly as he walked over to your side. “Please? I’m exhausted and I hate the hospital.”

Connor nodded. “I know you do.” He looked at your dad. “How about you come fill out the discharge papers so we can get her out of here?”

Cornelius nodded and stood up. “We’ll be right back.” He told you softly, touching your hand gently before following your brother out.

“You need to watch yourself around the cops.” Connor warned him once they were out of your earshot.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Connor turned to face him. “It means you need to be nice otherwise nothing will get done.”

Cornelius scoffed at that. “I know how to deal with people, Connor.”

“No you know how to push people around and buy them off.” Connor retorted, crossing his arms. “Just back off this time, let the cops do their jobs.”

Cornelius walked past him and to the nurse’s station. “I’d like you to discharge my daughter now. Y/N Rhodes.” As soon as the papers were signed, he went back to your room. “Alright, we’re good to go.” He gave you a smile.

You looked past him. “Where’s Connor? Isn’t he gonna come say goodbye?”

“He had to get back to work.” Your dad told you, but you could tell he was lying. Something happened and you knew it and it made you feel like your stomach was sinking into a black hole. You swallowed around the dry lump in your throat and nodded, trying to pretend you didn’t suspect anything. “Oh. Okay.” You could write the sadness off as not getting to say goodbye to your brother. You got up from the bed slowly.

“Do you need some help?”

You shook your head. “I’ve got it, thanks.” You waved him off as you grabbed your backpack from the floor before heading over to him. “I’m so ready to get home.” You breathed out, simply exhausted. “I just want to change into my pajamas and curl up in my bed.” You had plans to watch movies the rest of the afternoon.

Your dad nodded and walked out of the hospital with you, leading you over to his car.

Once you were home, you did exactly what you said you would, changed and curled up on your bed. You fished your phone out of your backpack before tossing it to the floor beside your bed. When you turned it on you saw you had a bunch of text messages from your friends asking if you were okay, you decided you’d respond to them in a bit, wanting to text your brother first. 

It took you a few minutes and a few erased attempts before you decided on what to say. Hey, I just wanted to let you know that we’re home. Sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye, dad said you had to get back to work. I love you, talk to you later. And with that you hit send before you began replying to all your friends.

The rest of the night you stayed in your room, texting your friends and watching movies. The housekeeper checked on you a few times, but you didn’t see or hear from your dad at all the rest of the night, which honestly wasn’t that unusual. You may be the favorite, but you were pretty sure he only remembered he had kids when it suited him or he was forced to remember.

Eventually, despite the fact that your head began to throb, you were able to fall asleep. The next morning you were rudely awakened by your alarm clock alerting you that it was time to wake up and get ready for school, which you immediately dreaded after remembering the events of the prior day. You got dressed before picking your phone up and checking it, only to see you got a text from your best friend informing you that Jake had gotten arrested.

Part Two Coming Soon...

[itsthenovelteafactor]

Fall of the House of Hargreeves

So I mentioned a while back in my Superhero Gothic meta that there were a number of parallels between the season one finale of The Umbrella Academy and the Edgar Allen Poe short story The Fall of the House of Usher and that I could probably write a whole meta on that if anyone was interested. Shout out and love to the anon who requested that I do that! 

It’s been a minute since I’ve done one of these long form metas, but I am very excited to get back to writing about two of my favorite things: gothic literature and chaotic superheroes. 

Part I: The Fall of the House of Usher

The Fall of the House of Usher (which I’ll call House of Usher for convenience for the rest of this meta) is a short story by Edgar Allen Poe first published in 1939. It is considered a classic gothic short story, and deals with themes of family, madness, inheritance, and isolation. 

Since it’s in the public domain, I’ll go ahead and link a pdf to the story here. If you aren’t interested in reading, though, or just want a refresher, the story follows an unnamed narrator going to visit his ill friend, a man named Roderick Usher in his isolated (and very spooky) family estate. Upon arrival, he discovers that Roderick’s sister, Madeline Usher, is also ill, and has a tendency to fall into dreamlike trances.

Over the course of the visit, Roderick confesses to the narrator that not only does he believe the house is alive, but that it is connected to the fate of the family which, at this point, only includes Roderick and Madeline. He later comes and tells the narrator that Madeline has died, and enlists his help in order to bury her in the family tomb beneath the house. They do so, but for the next couple of days Roderick is suspiciously...on edge. 

Then, one dark and stormy night, Roderick shows up in the narrator’s room incredibly worked up, and throws open the window, and starts low-key (read: high-key) having a breakdown. The narrator is unsure as to why until he hears ripping and tearing sounds coming from somewhere in the house. These ripping and tearing sounds are revealed to be Madeline whom Roderick and the narrator buried alive whose appearance scares Roderick to death, right before she collapses, also dead from the strain of tearing through the foundations of the house.

The narrator decides this would probably be a good time to leave and is very much right about that because as soon as he leaves, the house (which was already in pretty bad shape) splits in two and collapses into the lake surrounding it. The end.

Part II: Umbrella Academy as Gothic

So, there are probably a couple similarities between House of Usher and The Umbrella Academy season one that stand out right off the bat, but I’d like to start by taking a step back to talk about thematic parallels between the two works. If you’d like to read a very long winded explanation of why I consider The Umbrella Academy to be a modern gothic tale, I have a really long meta about it. 

If not, here’s a quick overview:

Gothic does not have a clearly defined set of requirements as a genre, but its purpose is to explore the contradictions and the failing edifices of convention in a way that is dramatic and often fantastic. 

Gothic fiction plays with reality, but usually in a way that is representative of the characters and story. 

It often situates itself during times of great change, as there is something haunting about the irreversible passage of time, particularly for those that struggle to acknowledge it and hide behind conventions that have grown increasingly irrelevant. 

Poe is considered one of the classic authors of gothic fiction (though the genre significantly predates him), and is decidedly one of the best well-known examples of it. 

The Umbrella Academy is a family drama about former child superheroes dealing with their trauma while trying to prevent an apocalypse that their every move seems to set further in motion. It explores the messy and complicated relationships between siblings who have been abused and pit against each other for years. And yeah, it’s fun with great music and talking gorillas and dance sequences, but the premise is kind of hard for me to read as anything other than gothic.

Part III: Parallels

Like House of Usher, the first season of Umbrella Academy takes place in a massive, largely empty mansion where siblings gather with disastrous consequences. Both works explore a family that is past their prime and disconnected from the present. They also both explore the psychological toll of isolation, the consequences of tyrannical family rules, and why it is a really bad idea to lock your unstable sister in a basement and just leave her there. 

Let’s start with some thematics parallels. Everyone in House of Usher is extremely isolated, and the absence of anything resembling the modern world amongst the house full of relics is part of the horror. All of the siblings in Umbrella Academy are defined by their isolation as well, physically (Luther, Five, and Ben), socially (Vanya, Diego, Klaus, and Allison), and emotionally (legit all of them). It is this isolation that drives the conflict of the story, feeding into every characters’ choices. 

In both House of Usher and Umbrella Academy, the main characters are trapped in this isolated state as a direct result of their familial legacy. In House of Usher, the titular house is a character itself, a manifestations of the obligations Madeline and Roderick hold as members of an aristocratic family that is so far divorced from wealth and status that it keeps them from ever fully moving on and rejoining the real world. In Umbrella Academy, the characters are similarly trapped by their familial legacy, this time in the form of the specter of their abusive father, and the roles he created for them. Like the Usher siblings, the Hargreeves have no way of maintaining the roles their family left out for them – they were never given the tools to function in the real world and it cripples them – but are trapped in them regardless. 

Part IV: The Woman* in White 

*As of the time I am writing this, nothing has been said regarding Vanya’s gender identity being written to match Elliot Page’s. I am using she/her pronouns for Vanya, as that is what has been used for the character thus far. 

Aside from thematic parallels, however, the most direct connection between the short story and series, and in fact the reason I was inspired to write this meta in the first place is the way both of the stories end: with a sister trapped beneath the house clawing her way out to face her brother(s and sister) and creating a disruption of the family legacy so great that the entire estate crumbles.

Madeline Usher is described at this point as wearing a white dress, strained with the injuries she sustained from physically breaking herself out of the basement tomb her brother buried her alive in. Vanya, of course, becomes at this moment the White Violin, and though she has not yet had the epic violin-music-so-powerful-it-changes-the-color-of-her-clothes scene, the principal still stands.

As characters, there are also a couple of noteworthy parallels between Vanya and Madeline. The narrator at one point describes “the illness of the lady Madeline had lone been beyond the help of her doctors. She seemed to care about nothing” (Poe, 27). The reader never knows what illness precisely is the cause of Madeline’s apparent madness, but we see the effects. It dulls her emotional responses to situations and leaves her withdrawn and powerless. Similarly, we learn over the course of the first season of The Umbrella Academy that the medication Reginald Hargreeves prescribed Vanya for her anxiety is actually a power suppressor for her abilities that has much the same effect – because they are strengthened by extreme emotion, the drugs numb Vanya’s emotional responses and deprive her of the ability to access her powers.

Additionally, the final scene of the story story shows Madeline escaping her tomb during a great storm and going to face her brother who put her there, the storm itself being a metaphor for her anguish that tears the house apart. Vanya’s connection to the destruction of the house is a bit more literal, but it is similarly a manifestation of her anguish and trauma. She sees flashbacks of her siblings being distant and rude to her in their childhoods and the anger she feels rips the foundation apart. 

It is not entirely clear in the short story why Roderick buries Madeline alive – there are a lot of theories: he genuinely believed she was dead, he wanted her out of the picture, he himself was succumbing to the madness of the house, etc – but the guilt he feels for doing so manifests as him hearing her scraping her way out for several days preceding her escape. The justification for Vanya’s imprisonment is more clear in text, but the series of flashbacks make it clear that it is not just the imprisonment that has driven her over the edge. It it guilt for her sister, anger at her abusive upbringing that is much more easily directed at her siblings than her father, the newfound emotions experienced by being off her medication for the first time since childhood, Leonard’s manipulations, etc. 

In both cases, amidst a spiral of emotions and experiences folding in on themselves, Vanya and Madeline experience a single, cold moment of clarity that drives them to escape, and it is that moment of clarity that breaks the shadow of the family legacy. They observe the situation as it stands and realize that it is completely unacceptable, and it is the realization that leads everything to crumble. Because gothic literature is focused on the complexities of maintaining that which is out of date, the realization that things must change can break the spell.

Part V: Conclusions 

As per usual, I have no great theories on why this is or what it means. One of the reasons I love gothic literature is that it is rife with meaning that can be more easily felt than deciphered. I welcome any and all interpretations, theories, (politely worded) disagreements, and comments. 

Thanks for taking the time to read; I have a lot of fun doing these. Enjoy spooky season, y’all. 💛

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding IX

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV  - - - Part V - - - - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII

Content Warning: This chapter contains potentially triggering material, particularly aftermath of attempted suicide as well as discussions of bodily injury.

Cody woke up the morning after the...drunken keldabe still feeling uneasy. He spent half an hour attempting to read over reports in preparation for the Umbaran campaign before giving it up as a lost cause. He distracted himself for a little while by pouring over last night’s cantina surveillance, before giving up on that as well and sending a message to General Skywalker.

‘Any updates on General Kenobi’s status?’

He watched the comms as communications from everyone besides the General trickled in. He answered a few requests for requisitions, forwarded some medical reports, and ignored an irritating handful of overly-personal questions. 

Agonizing over it the whole time, he opened a comm-text link to Obi-Wan. It took nearly an hour, but he managed to send two sentences. ‘Hope you’re recovering well. Look forward to upcoming mission discussion.’

He immediately wanted to retroactively delete the message, mortified by every word and deeply concerned at every second that passed without a reply.

He spent the next 30 minutes hunched over, quickly closing every incoming CT and CC communication, justifying the time to himself as ‘technically on leave.’

He lurched forward when he finally received a General’s comm code, but slumped in disappointment when it was Skywalker, not Kenobi.

‘Not as drunk but still seems a little high. He says he wasn’t drugged. He’s taking the rest of the day off. I’m monitoring.’

Taking the rest of the day off. Did that mean he wasn’t carrying around his comm? Kriff. Should he more or less concerned that the general was actually taking a day off?

He decided to be more concerned.

‘Thank you for the update. Respectfully request information on any changes.’

Hopefully that would encourage Skywalker to keep him informed even if he stopped freaking out over his vod’s behavior.

Stowing the remote comm, he stood up and exited the temporary planet-side office, throwing himself into cleaning up the mess that was nearly 20,000 clone troopers simultaneously attempting to get the most out of a very brief R&R. 

Shortly before mid-day, he received another update from Skywalker.

‘Just managed to get him to medical. Healer cleared him of drug interactions but Obi-Wan’s still acting strange (not crying, but a lot of hugging).’

Cody stared at that for a long while.

‘Any other verbal indications of upcoming danger?’ he finally asked. Skywalker didn’t reply. 

Shortly after nightfall, his incident reports were interrupted by a call from an unknown temple number. He quickly opened it, and a holo of an unfamiliar Mon Calamari female healer appeared in miniature on the desk.

“Commander Cody. Thank you for answering so quickly. Are you somewhere private?” she asked, voice deliberately neutral.

The Commander tensed up. “Yes, sir. I’m in CC office space, alone. The room and the channel are both secure. Is this regarding General Kenobi?”

“Yes.” She replied. “My name is Master Bant Eerin; I’m a temple healer as well as a personal friend of Obi-Wan’s. He’s...he’s in the healing halls right now. We’re still trying to understand exactly what happened- I’ll tell you what I can but first we need to rule out any possible drugs he may have contact with. I need you to describe in detail anything he may have been exposed to that could have possibly had mind-altering effects.”

The Commander was a professional. He swallowed back his fear, his questions, and his demands to know what was going on.

“Of course. Everything on the Negotiator was GAR Standard, and I was with him when we left the ship. We went directly to the lower levels. The first time he was exposed to anyone outside the 212th was when we left our transport on level 3915. I...actually have footage of him the whole time night after that point. I’m sending it over right now, sir.”

“That would be extremely helpful, thank you.” He watched as she pulled it up on a second comm, sound barely audible. 

He continued with his report: “One of the boys took it without permission. He didn’t mean anything by it, he’s just an idiot; I’ve already issued a severe reprimand. In any case, he brought it to me after I issued surveillance on the cantina, it tracks everything the General did- as far as I can tell, he had a glass of house grub wine, two shots of rancor blood, and an unnamed mixed cocktail ‘on the house.’ You can see everything the bartender added- as far as I can tell nothing was slipped in. He just... blacked out suddenly after the fourth drink, and quickly startled awake, confused by his surroundings.”

“I see.” Her tone was still carefully neutral and Cody didn’t know how to read her expression. He waited, wishing he was wearing his bucket so he didn’t have to keep schooling his face into professional patience.

“You brought him back to the temple...correct?” 

“Yes, sir.”

She let out a deep breath, gills fluttering slightly. “We’ll probably have more questions later, but please understand our inquires are entirely based around determining how we can best help Obi-Wan. This call and any future ones are not intended, and should absolutely not be interpreted, as indications of blame. He’s actually spoken to me about you before, I know he has the deepest respect for you, personally and professionally. Someone will likely be assigned to talk to everyone whose spent time with him recently, including myself.”

The sick feeling in his gut from last night returned full force. “I...believe I understand sir. His condition is serious, then?”

Her gills fluttered again.

“Even now, I think we can safely anticipate a full physical recovery. He...there’s no easy way to say this...it appears he attempted to end his own life. Knight Skywalker got to him just in time, and he received bacta within minutes of the initial burn. I...like I said...we’ll began work to figure out why-”

Her voice broke and she stared up, large tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. She hastily wiped them away.

“Rest assured commander, he’s getting the best treatment possible. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll do my best to answer any questions you might have right now. This is my personal comm link- please feel free to reach out to me at any point for updates.”

“I-” Cody cleared his throat. “Can I come to the temple? To...” he trailed off, not sure how to finish.

“Not tonight, I’m sorry. The healers need to focus; he’s not allowed any visitors until he’s out of Bacta, I’m afraid.”

“Skywalker must be throwing a fit at that” Cody remarked numbly.

The healer winced. “Knight Skywalker is currently sedated. He was...injured in the struggle to keep Obi-Wan from further harm. Master Windu witnessed part of it, but we’ll have to wait until its safe to wake him to get the full story. I’ll be notifying Captain Rex of the situation after we finish speaking.”

“I’ll do it.” Cody offered immediately. “Tell me what happened.”

Eerin hesitated. 

“Please, Sir. It will be better coming from me and...if he’s the only other trooper who’s being informed at the moment...”

“Of course,” she said quietly. “We don’t know the full circumstances, but at some point in performing emergency care for Master Kenobi, Knight Skywalker was stabbed in the lower abdomen with a vibroblade. It pierced his large intestine. The blade was pulled out shortly before healers arrived, causing some further damage and blood loss. He’s already finished surgery, and should only need a few hours of Bacta at most. Considering his extraordinary past recovery rates, he’ll likely be out of bed tomorrow and fully healed by the end of the week.”

“General Kenobi wouldn’t...” Cody trailed off again. He was having a hard time putting coherent sentences together.

Bant looked at the ceiling for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts.

“Psychosis can have many manifestations. Even with- with conventional injuries, people can mistake help for harm. There’s just too much we don’t understand, and only so much we can learn before they wake up. Are you certain you wish to be the one to inform Captain Rex?”

“Yes.” That was about the only thing the Commander was certain of right now. “Is there anyone else in the GAR I should inform of...anything?”

“The military aspect of this isn’t my area of expertise. If there’s someone you trust who can be a support for you, I don’t see why you shouldn’t be able to tell them in confidence. Some form of what happened is going to get out eventually.” she replied. “Please use your discretion, I suppose. It’s...not really my speciality but I imagine you’ll receive further orders on how much to release to the GAR once Obi-Wan’s stable.”

Right. Discretion. Because Obi-Wan wasn’t just Obi-Wan- he was a high general in charge of nearly 1/3 of the republic’s forces. If word of this got out to the wrong ears it would cause mass panic, maybe even an emboldened separatist advance. It was an insane amount of responsibility for one person, no wonder - he deliberately didn’t finish the thought.

“I’ll comm the Captain immediately. Thank you for the information, General.” he said out loud.

“Feel free to contact me for further updates, and tell Captain Rex he’s welcome to do the same. I’ll message you when its clear to visit the halls.”

“Yes, Sir.” Cody responded, saluting automatically. 

“Take care of yourself, Commander Cody”

The hologram blinked out. Cody sat motionless for several long moment before sweeping his desk off, sending the assorted flimsies and redundant comm-units of various designations to the ground.

He stared at the empty desk, then tapped a button on his wrist comm, opening a private audio channel. “CT-7567, please come in” he said calmly.

“Cody?” came the alarmed reply. “I’m here, what’s going on?” Why did he sound so panicked? He had deliberately used his calmest voice. Oh well.

“Please report immediately to CC Office 12 in Guard Headquarters”

“I’ll be there in 10″

Cody hung up. He stared at the blank wall. He knew something was wrong with how the General said goodbye.

He opened the single desk drawer and dumped the odd wires and coins inside to the floor. Eerin had said burn. That could mean a lot of things, but lightsaber was the most likely. 

Cody puked profusely into the empty drawer. He stared at the vomit for a moment before carefully closing the drawer. He still felt a little sick. He hadn’t even said anything back to the General, he just stood there, frozen. 

He stared vaguely at the wall across, wondering if he was going to puke again.

Rex burst into the room. “Cody! What’s going on?! You- kark, what is that smell?”

“I puked in the desk drawer” Cody explained.

Rex shut the door behind him and slowly walked over. He knelt down next to the desk, gently taking Cody’s hands in this own. “Cody. Vod. Talk to to me.” 

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

Rex’s hands tightened over Cody’s compulsively and Cody squeezed back harder. He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at Rex’s expression.

“Some of ghost company went out for drinks last night. Obi-Wan started acted oddly. We flew towards the temple. He started crying. We got to the temple. He Keldabe kissed me. He told me goodbye. I didn’t say anything back.”

“Oh, vod” Rex whispered. He gently pulled the slack Cody off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. Cody continued mechanically. “I did reports today. Skywalker said he was with him. I left Obi-Wan a message. I don’t think he saw it. He tried to kill himself. Skywalker must have left him alone. He saved him. Obi-Wan stabbed Skywalker.”

Rex froze, still holding on to Cody. 

“The healer called. Asked about drugs. They don’t think its drugs but they had to ask. She said they’re both going to heal completely fine. I have a link if you want to call the healer directly. That’s...it. I have reports to do now.”

Rex held Cody tighter. “Not right now”

“It’s war. People get hurt. People die. I have work to do”

“Not right now,” Rex repeated. “You have the right to be upset. You have the right to grieve. You’re a person, of course you have feelings.”

“Obi-Wan said that.” Cody whispered. Then he started crying. He continued to quietly sob for some time, hurt and bewildered and scared. They sat on the floor together; Rex barely moved, simply held on to his older brother as he fell apart.

Inevitably, Cody’s tears dried up and he pulled away. 

“I don’t know how to clean this,” he said gesturing at that closed drawer. 

“I’ll take care of it. Let’s just get you to bed. There’s CC bunks here, right? 

“Yes but...”

Cody didn’t really like sleeping so isolated, but he also couldn’t imagine facing the 212th right now. 

“I’ll stay here with you. We’ll go to the temple together in the morning.”

Rex shepherded Cody to the fresher. He stared at the mirror with a vague sense of recognition before automatically moving through a standard sanitation routine. By the time he finished, Rex had joined him in his room.

“What did you do with the vomit?” Cody asked, suddenly exhausted. They slipped into bed together.

“Swapped the whole desk with Pond’s. That bastard knows what he did.”

Cody let out a snort. Then, much to his surprise, he sank heavily into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Part X

[minithefutureawaits09]

To follow up on an earlier post

Link to AOS:

❤️Absolutely Smitten❤️

- TOS Spirk edition

A/n:

It gets pretty angsty so hold on.

Also know in this Fic, Bones doesn’t know the details about Tarsus IV that info is extremely classified and really, only select people know about it. So it’s really been swept under the carpet in this particular fic.

--

Spock heads down the hallway and to Jim’s quarters. Buzzing in as he always does.

....

No response.

So he tried again.

...

No response.

Now things were getting a little concerning. So when he buzzed for a third time and got no response he types in the override code for Jim’s quarters. Absolutely worried sick, and he realized standing there that...

Spock can’t feel their bond.

That prospect alone sends his heart racing even faster than his normal resting heart rate. Yet he swallows his panic as the doors open with their familiar squeak and he’s engulfed into a warm dark room. The doors squeak again as they closed behind him.

“Jim? My Jim, where are you? Are you alright?”

The worry while he can control it physically, slips into his tone. Eyes already adjusting for the darkness of the room, a small tribute to his Vulcan biology. His eyes adjust much quicker than a humans does.

“Go away Spock.”

Came the sharpest reply the Vulcan’s almost positive he’s ever heard. While the words themselves were not super harmful, the tone punctured.

On the bed was a small heep of blankets, he can only assume that huddled in all of those blankets was his Husband. He allows himself to frown and his brows to furrow. Jim never wanted him to leave whenever he was upset, always wanting him to hold close and not let go. So something, although going through his eidetic memory he doesn’t see anything.

“Jim, My-“

“I said Go. Away. Commander. Consider it an order from your Captain.” 

Something was really wrong then. Yet he would not leave Jim’s side. Whatever it was, he had made a vow until death did they part. He wasn’t leaving.

“Then you will need to fill out the insubordination paperwork shortly.”

He sees the blankets move, and he can only assume he is being looked at.

“I am not leaving K’diwa. I am your bond mate, and I am worried about you. You did not answer your door, I cannot feel our bond, and your tone is enough evidence that there is something bothering you. I vowed to care for you and I intend to get to the bottom of it, so if that means facing insubordination charges then I will.”

More ruffling of sheets and blankets, and now he can see his bond mate. The dark brown hair, and make out his eyes in the darkness. Hand reached out towards him, and the pain is so sharp at the horrible broken voice his beloved uses. Their bond floods open and he can feel all of the jagged edges of self hatred attacking Jim’s mind.

“S-Sp-ock-”

His feet move on their own and in moments flat Spock had Jim in his lap still wrapped in a couple of blankets but held firmly. He sobs begging apologies from his lips and promises to never leave him. Every broken sound that leaves him makes the Vulcan’s heart ache, and wanting to tear apart whoever caused these precious tears to spill.

He assures Jim that he did no wrong, that he did not feel any hurt emotions at his words. That there was nothing there other than his overwhelming concern for the person he values the most. That he will always be there. Always.

He sends all of the pure intense love he feel for the brunette in his lap and reassurance through their bond to Jim. Using their physical proximity as an easy way to tap into his beloved’s head in gentle attempts to soothe the hurt he can feel. Whatever caused this got him good, where it hurt.

Eventually he calmed and Spock whispers gently resting his forehead against his human’s,

“K’diwa, My James, will you tell me now what is wrong?”

... There’s hesitation showing in those hazel eyes staring up at him,

“I promise you, no matter what you say, I will listen to every word.”

...

“Is there a problem with how I eat, Spock?”

What? That was such an odd question. Yet with those hazel eyes hanging onto his every moment for his reply he placed a gentle kiss to his forehead and answered,

“I have never seen it vary from normal that would produce the need for comment or medical intervention.”

...

“Do I hoard food, Spock?”

Spock instead of answering taps into their bond and catches just the thought of one event.

Tarsus IV

“Ha’su, does this have to do with Tarsus IV?”

He asks and Jim looks away ashamed- he knows he’s ashamed because he can’t hide it this close to Spock. Yet using one hand he guides his beautiful hazel gaze back to his own.

“My K’diwa, Tarsus IV is an indescribable horror you had to face at such a young age. I know you have tried your best to heal some of those wounds. I know this trauma will haunt you for the rest of your life, and it will always affect how you eat. A famine and genocide. Yes, I do notice you have a few non-perishable items around your quarters. However, I simply attributed them to the fact Humans need to eat more frequently.”

He runs a hand through those brown locks he loves so, so very much. He watches as those lips, a little swollen from his cries open,

“When food became such a struggle and for so long...I-I just—”

“Shh. You need not explain yourself to me. Your trauma and struggle with food is not invalid. It will never ever. Ever. Be invalid.”

This brings back a smaller wave of tears as his husbands arms wrapped around his neck rather then around his middle as they were originally.

“Did someone bring this up?”

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Bones. Though he didn’t bring Tarsus itself up, he just made a comment on my eating habits and it well...Lead to an argument. He doesn’t know the full story though. I just haven’t told him yet because I haven’t been ready to. He only knows what my records say. Which isn’t much because the federation wanted to keep it hush hush.”

Spock nodded. So he would have to make a trip to Medbay and have an informative discussion with Dr. McCoy.

“Please don’t be mad at Him. He doesn’t know,”

“I am not mad because he did not know. However, I will be having a conversation with him if you are amenable to that to inform him of it so you will not have to.”

He feels a gentle nod at his words. Agreeing with him

‘I love you, and thank you for not leaving me alone and being willing to talk to Bones for me.’

‘I love you too, my Jim. I am absolutely smitten for thee, and I wish you to never forget that. Sleep now,’

‘I won’t, I promise I will never forget...’

Sleep the brunette does. It’s almost mere moments and he feels their bond gently going dormant. It’s still several moments before he gently rests his husband down and goes to speak with McCoy.

—

(Bonus scenes because I feel like it)

—

“Oh my god,”

Leonard’s hand his over his mouth. He was sitting at his desk as Spock had advised him to do so. Shock and guilt coated over himself.

“I didn’t know, I swear-”

“He informed me of such. I am not mad Dr. McCoy. I simply wished for you to understand.”

“I need to go apologize-”

“He is resting, however I am willing to let you know when he wakes.”

“Yes. Right. Thank you, Spock. I promise, I never would of said anything if I’d known. The only thing in his files says is he’s a Tarsus IV survivor. Nothing more. I never even knew what it was until now.”

“I understand Dr. McCoy.”

And he does.

“I will leave you to process this, and to go attend to Jim when he wakes.”

Leonard nodded as Spock exited.

-

Spock was holding Jim as he yawns and those Hazel eyes open. He doesn’t say anything but he can feel the gentle buzz in his head from seeing that his husband was still here just as he promised he would be.

“Commander Spock to Medbay,”

..

“Medbay here, What is it?”

“The Captain is awake if you wish to see him,”

“Alright. Be up in 15 minutes.”

“Noted. Spock out,”

The transmission was cut.

His partner seemed confused, so Spock relayed the message.

“He wishes to apologize directly, and I said I would inform him of your awakening.”

A simple nod comes from Jim.

...

It was actually less than 15 minutes when Bones shows up. Normally Leonard would say something to get them apart, but given what happened he isn’t going to say a thing about Spock holding Jim.

“Jim?”

The brunette’s head turns to look at his best friend.

“Hey, I wanted to apologize for what I said.”

He sits down on the edge of the bed. Spock watches as those hazel eyes follow him.

“Jim, god. I never, I never would have said any- any of that if I had known. I promise you. I had no idea what sort of demon you deal with every time you go to eat in your head.”

“It’s alright-”

“It’s not though Jim. I shouldn’t have said those things in-”

“Leonard.”

The doctors name makes him fall quiet.

“Leonard, You didn’t know. I hadn’t told you...Yet now that you know, could we schedule an appointment to maybe..do something about it?”

“Maybe try some anti-anxiety medications?”

Jim nodded.

“You got it kiddo. Whenever you’re ready you just let me know alright?”

“Alright.”

Bones gives a nod to Spock who had been silent for this whole time. He knows that means to gently and lovingly encourage him to do so in the near future. He leaves but not before Jim surprised them both by pulling the doctor into a hug. They held on for just a few moments and even Spock could tell the world was alright once more. The doctor then left, and Spock went back to holding his partner. Humming as he gently guided him back to sleep, and shortly drifted off after.

[rat-bastard-fics]

Playing Games

PART II

Paul Lahote X OC

Eleanor had been gone from La Push for a few years but upon her return home, she’s excited to see her old friend Paul again.  

Word Count: ~670

Part I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. 

MASTERLIST

Paul

Pack.

Why would she say pack?

Does she know?

I hold the lollipop stick and suck on the flavor that had so recently been in her mouth.  

Cherry.

I remember her popping the sucker out of her mouth that final time.  The way it dragged down her lip just a little, tinted that pink skin red.  Had I not been so taken by her word choice, I would have had to focus hard on my restraint in order not to kiss her right then and there.

To kiss her.

God how I wanted to kiss her.  The small gasp that escaped her when I steadied myself.  How she broke eye contact to peek at my hand on her leg. How badly I wish I could have read her mind right then and there.  How badly I wish our long-time dynamic could have been more physical just so I might know arc of her back, the taste of her skin, the feeling of her nails--

Her nails

I want her to press them against my scalp forever.  I would be okay with that being the only touch I ever feel again as long as it’s coming from her.

I feel my pants tighten just the tiniest bit and clear my throat, refocusing on the present.  I could think of her all day and still not know why she chose to say pack.

I’m in the house now.  I hardly remember walking here. Pack. I am pacing back and forth enough that I hardly notice the attention I’ve drawn from the guys--from the pack.  

“Paul?” Jared’s voice is distant but I can somewhat hear his concern and confusion.

“Got a sweet tooth?” Embry comments and I pause, ready to defend Elle.  I then realize he means the sucker in my mouth.  Her sucker.  Suddenly Sam chuckles under his breath and my eyes snap to him.

“Paul imprinted.” The room erupts in comments.  

“Just now?”

“Oh I remember her!”

“What’s her name? Kelly? Nell? J-”

“It’s Eleanor.  Elle.” I say it without thinking.  I realize now that I love her name.  I love the way my tongue flicks in my mouth when I say it.  She used to go by Ella but then Bella Swan moved in with Charlie and she took up even a portion of conversation in La Push.  Elle was being compared, then, to a girl she’d never met simply because their names rhymed.  She didn’t dislike Bella at all, she just wanted her own identity.  

I don’t remember remembering her name in such precision until now.

“What was it like?  Imprinting?” It’s Seth. Imprinting hardly matters to me now.  It’s simply something that happened.  I would die for her and that’s a fact, but I no longer remember not feeling so strongly for her.

“She said Pack.” The strangest aspect of the afternoon came to mind. Nobody seems to understand what I’m saying and so I elaborate, now pulling the cleaned sucker stick from my mouth and tossing it in the trash can. “She referred to you guys as my pack.” There’s a discomfort throughout the room.

“Maybe it was a coincidence.  She might not have meant anything by it.” Quil’s voice is passive but anyone looking at him can see the gears turning in his head.

“Maybe it’s a good thing if she knows already.  Less for you to explain!” Seth’s eyes are smiling like always.  

“Maybe it doesn’t matter regardless.” Sam. “If she knows, nobody will believe her.  If she doesn’t, we’re exactly where we’d expect.”

I feel a sharp anger in me at Sam suggesting she ever not be believed--that she ever be considered crazy or anything akin.  But his tone has edged on his alpha voice, the baseline command being ‘get over it.’ 

There’s a few minutes of silence before the room erupts again in unrelated conversation.  I take a moment to linger on the word before sitting down.  My mind swaps focus now--when will I see her again? 

[caws5749]

CH 13: Experimentations

A/N: I hope you enjoy, I’m very excited about where the series is going! 

Your Red-Headed Mentor Masterlist

Tony watched from the window as you descended the plane stairs, making your way towards the crowd of agents. He felt troubled and on edge, as if something was out of place, just slightly amiss.

A twinge of guilt ran through him as he took in your expression. You were frightened, though you tried to mask it. But mostly, you just looked like you’d tried to rectify something. You looked as though you were turning yourself  for your sins because it was the right thing to do, when you really hadn’t done anything besides fight your teammates and not add a signature to a piece of paper. He felt responsible.

When Tony saw you fall as a gunshot rang out, he was already halfway out the door, the Iron Man suit encasing his body. He should have known something wasn’t right.

Unfortunately, no matter how fast he flew, he wasn’t fast enough. You were taken away on one of the jets, and he hadn’t seen which one. He couldn’t get to you, so he did the next best thing, and got to one of the agents.

“Where the hell did you take her? What did you do?” he interrogated, pointing his hand at one of the leftover men.

“She will serve a greater purpose now,” the man smiled, before crushing something between his teeth and falling to the ground.

++++++++

“Hey, Tony,” Clint answered the phone.

“Hey, Clint. Listen, something bad happened.”

Tony explained what he’d seen while Clint silently panicked. After clearing his head, he promised Tony he’d start researching and reaching out to some old contacts about new groups that were in the business of kidnapping Avengers.

Within five hours, he’d found something, prompting him to give Tony a call back.

“Hey. I’ve got a location, and a purpose, but you’re not going to like it.”

+++++++

Your head was pounding, to put it lightly. A more accurate statement would be that it felt like someone was fiddling with a needle in your brain.

Were those voices? Was a mouse running all over your body or was someone jamming needles into your extremities?

You’d thought that your next session with the “Physical Specialist,” as the Red Room called him, was tomorrow, not today.

Forcing your eyes open, you immediately called out in fear. This man wasn’t familiar and neither was the room. You had no idea where you were, but you had a feeling it wasn’t good.

“Hello, pet,” the man snarled, his lips curling upwards in a way that sent horror through you.

You tried to gather your bearings as your eyes searched the room for anything that might give you a clue as to why you were here and where exactly ‘here’ was.

“You’ll find nothing,” the man pointed out airily. “You will not know where you are, nor will you know who we are. You will simply exist here, as my pet, until you are fit for duty.”

“And what might that be?” you asked.

“That is for me to know, and you to find out.”

You tried not to scream when he plunged a needle into your neck.

“That’s it, pet, that’s it,” he whispered, coming closer so that his lips were ghosting over your ear. You were starting to see black at the edges of your vision, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before unconsciousness reclaimed you.

“You may call me… Dr. Romanoff. That name means something to you, doesn’t it, pet. Does it make you feel alone? Sad that you cannot call upon her? It’s a shame, really. You’ll never see her again, until I make you kill her. Until I make you cut her open, slowly, and painfully, so that you have to watch and feel every cut of the knife as you tear your mentor apart.”

You couldn’t help it when tears flowed as the blackness consumed you.

++++++

“Wake up, my pet.”

You jolted awake, tugging at the shackles that bound you.

“I am afraid you are still trapped, sweetheart. But don’t worry, soon you will be able to exist in a special type of containment.” The man smiled sickeningly, and you felt nauseous.

Something else felt….wrong too, but you couldn’t quite place what it was. It felt like something was coursing through your veins and threatening to explode out of you at any moment.

“Do you feel it yet?” he asked. He didn’t wait for a response. “That power, flowing through your veins. The experiment has worked.”

Your heart stopped.

“What did you do to me?” you growled.

“You will soon see,” he grinned wickedly. “For now, I think it’s time for another nap. You may familiarize yourself with your newfound abilities when you wake.”

+++++++

“Come on, Nat,” Clint begged quietly as the phone rang for the fifth time.

“The subscriber you have dialed is no longer in service,” the automated voice finally said. He ran his fingers through his hair. She didn’t want to be found, and so she wouldn’t be. And normally that was fine, except for the fact that Clint needed her.

Natasha had no idea what was going on with you right now. She’d assumed the government had put you up in a cell in some high security prison, and that you’d either be broken out by Steve or released when - or if - things resolved. And she certainly couldn’t do anything about it, so she’d left.

Which would have been fine, if the government had actually been the one to take you. Unfortunately for everyone, you’d been taken by a unique side branch of HYDRA, formally known as EXIA. They were highly invested in human experimentation and artificial intelligence, and they weren’t going to let their major experiment be done on just anyone. Once they knew they could successfully perform an implantation of abilities on someone, they set their eyes on you. You were young, resilient, strong, and above all, a public figure. There was no better way to get EXIA on the map than by kidnapping an Avenger and performing a successful experiment on her.

On the other side of the world, Tony was preparing for your rescue mission. With intel from Clint that seemed legit, he’d asked Vision to accompany him to check out whether or not you were being hidden away in an underground base in Siberia.

“What if her mind’s been fiddled with?” Tony wondered aloud, tinkering with his suit.

“I would not be surprised if it had, Tony,” Vision answered, looking more somber than usual.

“We don’t know what we’re walking into.” It was Tony’s way of saying ‘be careful.’

“No, we do not. We will get her back, though.”

Tony nodded. He only hoped the modified robot was right.

++++++++

“Up!” a loud voice commanded as an alarm rang out loudly. You startled awake, your head fuzzy.

“Up, my pet!”

You were much too out of it to fight, so you opened your eyes, shakily standing. It was then that you took in your surroundings. The closest way to describe the room you were in was that it appeared to be similar to a giant shower.

The more you woke up, the more another feeling, a new one, took over.

“Do you feel that, sweetheart? It is your power. Let it out.”

You looked for where the voice was coming from, but apart from the speaker up in the corner, you couldn’t see him.

But the feeling was becoming overwhelming, and letting it out sounded like it would bring relief. The only issue was that you weren’t exactly sure what would happen if you did.

“If you do not, pet, I will force you.”

You took a second to consider your options, realizing you had none. You took a deep breath, before letting go. The second you stopped holding back, you couldn’t stop. You didn’t even have a minute to be surprised when water was the thing that came out of you. All you knew was that you needed to let it out, that it felt so good to relinquish control.

You even caught yourself with the barest hint of a smile, though suddenly a wave of dizziness came over you, and you collapsed onto the floor.

+++++++

“Got you,” Tony muttered to himself, swooping into the room and blasting all of the guards. He picked up your unconscious body, panicking slightly at the pale color of your skin. Shaking his head to clear all traces of anger towards the man who did this to you, he made sure you were secure before taking off.

Back on the jet, Vision tried to assess you while Tony piloted.

“She appears to be dehydrated. She will need an IV.”

“What the hell did they do to her?” Tony muttered, growing angrier by the second.

“I got a look into their laboratories, as well as a very unique room. I am inclined to believe she has hydrokinesis.”

“Water powers.”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“I’m guessing she’s not very good at controlling them yet,” Tony sighed. “What type of unique room?”

“It’s purpose was most likely a training space for her.”

“Did you get a good look at it? We’re going to need one of those.”

+++++++

“I know you’re out there.”

“I know you know I’m out here. So, are we going to talk like grownups?”

“Is that what we are?”

“Yelena,” Natasha breathed as she finally laid eyes on the woman she hadn’t seen in years.

“Natasha. What brings you home?”

[yammz]

when he was dying 😭

getting right into the angst this fine Sunday, aren't we?

the "he" in question is Steve, so-- tw for hospital talk, but he's alive here

..

“You should go, Sam,” Steve murmurs, sliding his eyes over to him. Sam regards him with a tired look in his eyes, the kind of tired reserved for exasperation rather than physical exhaustion. “Really.”

“I’m going to work in an hour. I’m not gonna drive home, sit around for ten minutes and then drive downtown again to get to work.”

“Then at least go get breakfast.”

“And give up the graham crackers that the cute RN keeps slipping me?” Sam teases, pulling one out and bites down to prove his point. “Fat chance.” In reality, Sam had hoped the physician would come in before he left, so he could swiftly tell him, straight up, that Steve has an annoying habit of downplaying his pain and respiratory distress and cardiac activity. And maybe he was overstaying and maybe he was overfunctioning, but he was fucking scared, all right? His best friend nearly went into cardiac arrest last night. 

“I think she’s into me, actually,” Steve mumbles, making Sam’s smirk deepen. “Looking for a real Grey’s Anatomy moment.”

“Whatever keeps you going, Rogers,” Sam says, taking in his chapped, pale lips and heavy eyelids. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fucking awesome,” he rasps. He lifts his eye to the IV above him. “Got all I need. Except you leaving so I can work my magic in peace.”

“Work your magic?” Sam repeats, positively beaming now. And maybe he’s delusional from the panic-turned-no-sleep when he got to the hospital late the previous night, but it feels good to smile with Steve. And he knows that’s the best thing he can do. It’s the worrying that pisses him off. “Am I standing in your way?”

“Yeah, little bit,” Steve murmurs, but he’s smiling. “Besides, Bucky’s gonna come for visiting hours.”

“Bucky?” he asks, focusing on keeping his voice level. He shouldn’t be surprised, and he isn’t, not really, but hearing that name…

“He’s my emergency contact still. They called him last night,” Steve says. “Sorry for not telling you sooner.”

Sam rolls his eyes at that, knowing Steve was fighting for his fucking life last night. He didn’t need to tell Sam everything. Not even when he reveals that Bucky is coming. Bucky. Who Sam does not get along with. Nope. Not one bit. Not even that one time, when Bucky was killing time for his delayed flight, Steve needed to go to work, leaving Sam alone in the apartment with him and—

Sam clears his throat. “He staying?”

“Didn’t get to talk to him, considering the whole near-death thing.” Steve swallows and it looks like it hurts. “He doesn’t need to stay with us. I know you don’t like him.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Sam answers, because it’s the easiest thing to say, and it has the gleeful side effect of making Steve groan, knowing that Sam’s words shift the worry to his least favorite subject: himself. “You know I’m right. Shit. You think I’m involved sitting here—“ he raises his eyebrows pointedly.

Because they can both remember the last time Steve was hospitalized. How much of a nightmare Bucky was, saying the shit that only he could, really, the stuff that someone who’s been doling out the toughest, most honest love to Steve Rogers since they were babies. Sam hadn’t minded. He wasn’t really ever in the mood to fret over Steve in the way that he probably needed to be. That job landed firmly in the Bucky category. 

“Think it’s too late to write him off at the security desk?” Steve mumbles. Sam smiles fondly at him before he rises from the chair, patting Steve’s foot.

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 9 - ‘The Kindest of Kisses Break the Hardest of Hearts”

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 , Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8 (swear I’ll make a masterlist soon)

Summary: Back in London, you find unexpected help in the form of Ives. But when Neil comes back sparks fly... ✨

Warnings: Swearing.

Author’s Notes: So here’s the chapter I’m incredibly excited about... Suppose I should thank Dior for inspiration in this one. Hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing the last scene! Please let me know what you think!

You did not remember the last time you were this happy to be back in London. After the mission in Paris was done, Jasper went back to Boston, and you were free to do what you wanted. You contacted TP, told him how the mission went (without certain details), and in return, got told to wait for more information regarding the next steps. By your estimation, it was less than two weeks left till Kiev and the day when the mysterious plan will be set into motion. You were scared.

Ever since that day in Paris when Neil called, you had a difficult time maintaining normal conversation with him. He would message asking about something as mundane as how your day went, and you would only respond with a short sentence. You could not really explain it if asked. It was as though after hearing his voice and letting yourself have that conversation with him, all the doubts came back with a tripled strength. Suddenly you could almost believe Jasper and his harsh words suggesting that you were not important in Neil’s eyes. Maybe he just liked flirting, and you were conveniently there? That sounded rather plausible. Ever since you started naming those thoughts, an ache in your chest was hard to ignore. And so you did the best you could, which in this case meant low-key ghosting Neil and losing yourself in training and work. 

Surely with enough time and space, you would get over it (him), right?

That was the state of your mind the day when rather surprising help appeared. You have been back in London for a few days and have not really interacted with anyone. Usually, you would spend two hours in the shooting range and then in a sparring session. After you were done, you would retreat to your room and try to ignore the texts that were still occasionally coming. 

“How’s London treating you? Say hello to Anna from me” you glanced at the screen and frowned.

The instant temptation to text back was still there. Only now, it was tainted with much more anxiety and uncertainty.

“It’s alright, rather quiet. I haven’t seen her around though. Maybe she’s moping after you”

Like I am? You sighed and chose to focus on notes from the physics class. You were saved from the study by an unexpected knock on the door. Without thinking, you got up and opened it, only to see Ives standing there with a cheeky smile on his face.

“Hi” you muttered, worried you have forgotten how to behave like a human being.

“Hello, love” he grinned “Hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“No, I was actually rather bored” you admitted with a sheepish smile.

You heard the distinct buzz of a text message but chose to ignore it. You were slowly getting better at the game. 

“That’s terrific because I thought we could have a coffee in the canteen and chat” Ives’ thick cockney accent was somewhat adorable.

And you could definitely do with a distraction.

“I’d love that” you beamed back at him and left the room, locking the door behind you.

As you walked side by side along the corridor, you struggled to say something.

“How did you know I’m here?” finally you settled for a rather easy question.

“I’ve seen you at the shooting range in the morning” he watched you closely for a short moment “You’re fucking amazing, did you know that?”

“Oh no, I’m really not” you felt your face heat up.

“Yeah you are” he playfully nudged you in the side “You could probably teach me a thing or two”.

You glared at him and then quickly considered your options.

“Only if you taught me how not to be knocked out within the first two minutes of the hand in hand combat” you knew you could use help in that department.

“Deal?” Ives stopped and turned to you with an outstretched hand.

“Deal” you shook it with a grin.

Once you made it to the mess hall, you noticed with relief that it was rather quiet. You both made coffee and sat down at the table in the corner. After a few moments of comfortable silence when you sipped your drinks, Ives spoke up:

“What have you been up to?” he was eyeing you curiously.

Even though you barely knew him, you felt at ease. There was no enigma of TP to him or Neil’s intensity. Instead, he was just a friendly bloke with sharp wits.

“Oh you know, shit mission in New York and now even shittier one in Paris” you frowned at the fresh memories “Though I suppose the recent one at least ended with success” you mused.

It was true not all of your missions have ended with a huge fuck up. And that was somewhat encouraging.

“With Jasper?”

“Yeah” your frown deepened, and Ives grinned.

“My condolences. He’s a right pain in the ass”

“Well said” you laughed, finally feeling some of the tension of the last few days dissolve.

But it was not meant to be for long. Before either of you spoke again, you heard your phone buzz. You took it out of the pocket and glanced at the received text. It was him, of course. You grimaced and placed the phone screen down on the table as if to avoid the temptation. All the while you felt Ives’s attentive gaze. He has not missed a thing.

“Neil?” he asked, watching you closely with a neutral face.

“Yeah…” you shrugged, avoiding his stare “I’ll probably sound pathetic… but do you know where he is?”

Once the question was out of your mouth, you felt your cheeks heat up. It was one thing to worry about him daily. Another to actually voice the worries. But Ives did not seem to mind. He quickly considered something before leaning over the table.

“He’s in India, dealing with some sudden disruption. I was there with him in the beginning” at your unspoken question, he added “He’s fine, often said that’s partially thanks to you” he eyed you carefully, and you looked down at the table, flustered.

“It’s more that if I wasn’t there, he wouldn’t even need help in the first place” you mumbled, feeling the guilt gnaw at your heart.

Still, sometimes you kept wondering why on earth had he decided to shield you back in the bar. But any possible answer to the question meant having to assume something about Neil’s intentions. And that was dangerous territory.

“Should I ask?” Ives’ question brought you back to the present moment.

“Better not” you smiled wryly, and he just nodded.

“He wouldn’t shut up about you sometimes, you know” he spoke up again after a short silence, making you look up.

You were not sure you liked the cheeky smirk that appeared on Ives’ face. You were not going to give in.

“He’ll get over it in no time, I’m sure” you feigned nonchalance as you finished your coffee and met his gaze.

“Are you two good?”

You just shrugged. To be frank, you had no clue how to answer that. Was there even such an entity as ‘you two’ when it came to you and Neil?

“Well, whatever is going on, know that I’m ready to slap some sense into him if needed” Ives grinned at you, and you beamed back.

“Appreciated”

The next few minutes passed in companionable silence. That is until your brain rudely decided to suggest another pressing question.

“Is he there… alone?” you cringed as soon as you said it aloud.

No point in trying to sound disinterested…

“Nah, Wheeler stayed with a couple of others” his stare was way too knowing.

You felt a sharp stab of pain in your heart. What even… There was no reason to be jealous. Right? As you were internally debating what the new feelings were supposed to mean, you failed to notice Ives’ grinning at your distress.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous” he was enjoying it way too much.

“What? No, I’m not” you tried to scoff at this insinuation but failed miserably.

“Yeah, you are” that’s how you learnt that Ives had his own version of a shit-eating grin.

Was that a part of the Tenet work application?

“Mate, Neil and Wheeler wouldn’t fuck each other even if I paid them. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you” Ives wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and you groaned.

You glared at him, unable to come up with any good response.

“What? I may have only seen you two together once, but it was clear to me that dear Neil is interested. Very much so” he smirked at your wide-eyed stare “But I don’t think that’s in any way news for you” he squinted his eyes as though trying to see right through your soul.

“Please, let’s leave psychoanalysis for another date” you grabbed the phone from the table and looked at him pleadingly.

“Of course” he grinned “When shall we have our first sparring lesson?”

“Tomorrow morning. Be there at 9” you got up “Thanks for the chat”

“Anytime, love” he waved as you left the canteen.

*** Combat lessons with Ives have proven to be a gift from the gods in the days that followed. He would accompany you to the shooting range afterward as well under the pretence of wanting to learn from you. Even though you were sure it was utter bullshit as he could hit the marks as well as you, if not better, you appreciated the sentiment. To say that his help in the sparring sessions meant you have greatly improved would be an overstatement, but certainly, additional tips slowly started to make a difference. All that distraction meant you also spent much less time wondering about Neil’s whereabouts and asking yourself existential questions about your own feelings. That was probably the best outcome of the situation.

Another morning of the sparring session began with you and Ives meeting in the gym as usual. 

“Did you sleep well?” he asked as you entered the gym.

“More or less” you grinned, stifling a yawn.

Last night you spent way too much time overthinking the text exchange with Neil. All it took was for him to mention ‘the fun you had in New York’ and then compare it to the recent night undercover. To you, it meant that Jasper was right, and you were just another ‘flirting companion’. And that shit hurt.

“That will have to do then” he tossed a water bottle in your direction, and you caught it easily.

You set it down on the side and the mat and stood facing Ives. After a short warm-up, he began showing you the way of blocking punches aimed at your upper body. While the demonstration always looked easy, once you went onto the practice, you have begun to struggle. After getting a third light punch to the shoulder, you huffed:

“Maybe I should just give up and become a sniper” you rubbed the aching spot.

“That could work” he grinned “Though I’m not sure how Neil would feel about that career change”

“Fuck Neil” you made sure to put up your guard, expecting another punch.

“I see how it is” Ives smirked before he threw a hit towards your other shoulder.

This one you blocked. And the one afterward as well. Slowly, with only a few mistakes, you got the hang of the game. That is until you were interrupted by someone clearing their throat by the door. You both turned to see Anna standing there.

“Y/N, can I speak to you for a moment?” she sent you a fake smile.

Christ…

“Of course”

You looked at Ives with panic in your eyes before you followed her into the corridor. Anna was clearly uncomfortable with having to talk to you, and that did not ease the tension.

“What’s the matter?” you spoke up first, hating the awkwardness of the moment.

“Neil called me yesterday” she paused, and you frowned.

“Yeah?” if she wanted to torture you, she has succeeded.

“He wanted me to let you know that they got Steiner in New York” despite Anna’s best attempts at keeping her face neutral, you knew she was enjoying this.

“Okay, thanks” you smiled weakly, trying to ignore the jealousy building up in your chest.

“Oh, and he says he should be back next week” now she was smiling dazzlingly.

“Great” you mumbled and showed her your brightest grin “Thank you”

With that, you chose to end the tortures for you both and went back into the gym. At Ives’ questioning stare, you just glared. He understood instantly.

“Fuck Neil?” he offered you a sip from the water bottle, which you gladly accepted.

“Mhmm”

There was so much to unpack from what Anna told you. Partially, you knew your ghosting was to be blamed for the situation but still, it hurt. Especially the unspoken fact that Neil has called her. You knew you were being ridiculous but could not ignore the feelings that were attacking every fibre of your being.

“Ready for another round?” Ives looked at you worriedly.

“Absolutely”

*** A few days later, as you left a meeting covering suspicious activity around London, your head was most certainly elsewhere. Ever since the awkward situation with Anna, you were not sure what to do with yourself. Only carefree moments were those you spent in the shooting range or learning hand to hand combat with Ives, who was surprisingly great at distracting you.

Walking along the corridor, you were too busy worrying about all those texts you have ignored to see where you were going. With eyes trained on the floor, you barely registered the surroundings. And that is why you were incredibly surprised when you unexpectedly collided with something solid standing on your path.

“Fuck” you muttered before slowly realising that you have, in fact, walked into a person.

You felt someone’s hands reach out to steady you by wrapping around your waist. The next thing you registered was the smell. A very familiar one that you have tried to repress from memory for the past few weeks. You felt panic surge through your whole body before you let out a long exhale and lifted your head.

“Didn’t expect our reunion to be that dramatic, but I’m not complaining” Neil grinned at you with that smug look on his face you have grown to hate.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you” you choose to stare at his tie.

A nice burgundy one which he has worn in New York, during the mission. At the memory, your cheeks grew somehow warmer, and you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to be swallowed by the earth. But to no avail.

“Are you alright?” his voice broke through the increasing paralysis.

“Yeah” you forced yourself to look up at him again.

The concern in his eyes only made your desire to run stronger. But his grip on your waist was unyielding. You were acutely aware of standing in the middle of the corridor. Anyone could pass by and see you like that. But it looked like Neil did not care.

“I tried calling you last night” his voice was tense.

Shit.

“Sorry I was busy” you were a terrible liar.

And, of course, he saw right through you. You noticed how the look in his eyes went from concern to serious worry, and you desperately wanted to flee the scene. He was studying your face, and you tried to look anywhere but at him. After a beat, he must have found some answers in your conflicted expression because he relaxed the grip on your waist, giving you a way out.

“If I said anything wrong…” you were thrown off by the slightly wounded look in his eyes.

Now that you actually could run away, you did not want to. Not without making sure he understood.

“You haven’t” you took a deep breath, trying to calm the racing heart “It’s… just things that Jasper said and stuff… it made me think” you mentally groaned, annoyed at how you could not form a coherent sentence.

But Neil understood as he nodded and reached for your hand. You let him lead you to a quieter spot in the adjacent corridor. You were still paralyzed with conflicting feelings, but now also curious. The voice in the back of your head kept on reminding you how much you have missed him. You had your back pressed against the wall and stared as he slowly stepped closer, making your personal space non-existent. It was suddenly hard to think about the reasons why you should not let him be this close. The look in his eyes was unreadable to you.

“I don’t know what that idiot told you or what’s going on in your head, but it’s all wrong” you felt his free hand slide up your arm to rest on your neck and gently caress the skin there.

It was embarrassing how you responded to his touch with your body tensing and goosebumps appearing where his fingers made contact with your skin. It was hard to lie, even to yourself.

“Why should I believe you?” your voice sounded breathless already.

You knew you should have never let him get this close before you talked. But still, the way he looked at you was surprising. Any train of thought was interrupted when he brushed the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. His eyes were darker than usual, and the intensity of his gaze alone made the flutters in your stomach appear.

“I’ve got a few reasons”

Gently he tilted your chin and covered your lips with his. You gasped at the contact and felt him smile against your mouth. Then, as though a switch was flipped, Neil started kissing you hungrily, and you responded in kind, letting your teeth graze his lower lip. When his hand wrapped around your neck, you felt lightheaded and breathless. But still, you deepened the kiss, making all the feelings you have tried to stifle lead the moment. It was scaringly easy to do. Only once you felt like you had no breath left, you broke the kiss and stared back at Neil with a dazed expression. That was not what you expected from your reunion.

“Hope that beat whatever Jasper had to offer you” he grinned, and you enjoyed the sight of his subtly swollen lips.

“Please don’t remind me” surprisingly, you could still form a sentence.

But that ability was soon to be gone as you watched mischievous sparks shine in his eyes. His lips curled into a smirk, and you knew you were fucked. In every meaning of the word. Before you could react, he leaned in closer again, kissed the corner of your mouth before leaving a trail of kisses down to your jawline, and then crook of the neck.

“Neil…” you breathed out, trying to somehow stop the situation from getting out of your hands.

“Yes?” he interlocked his fingers with yours, pinning your joined hands to the wall.

Perfect leverage. Thinking was getting increasingly difficult.

“I… I’ve missed you” that was not exactly what you wanted to say.

You heard him chuckle with his lips brushing the skin on your neck.

“Quite right” he kissed the spot beneath your ear “Too”.

You sighed at the sensation, tightening the grip on his hand and letting your other palm splay on his chest. Through the fabric of his shirt, you could feel the fast heartbeat. It was somewhat encouraging to know that it was not just your heart that was beating wildly. He was kissing your neck with something akin to reverence, which made you feel faint. The traces of reason left in your brain started screaming for attention.

“Neil” you huffed, annoyed at how you were unable to voice the mess of thoughts.

Slowly he lifted his head and looked back at you.

“I really like how you say my name” the roguish grin that began it all was back to haunt you “So breathless” his voice was huskier than usual.

He wanted to kill you, evidently.

You met his gaze helplessly, feeling vulnerable with how he could see right through you. He looked almost fascinated by your stunned expression. Then his eyes softened.

“I missed you too” you felt his hand travel down your body to settle on the hip “So much”.

That admission was all it took for you to lose it. Again. You leaned in and initiated another kiss, unable to deny the need you felt. Neil was ready as he easily matched the tempo you have set. This time neither of you wanted to rush it. Instead, you kissed slowly and delicately, enjoying the careless moment. You tangled your hand in his blonde strands, tugging lightly to bring him even closer. He groaned at the sensation, making you feel a new kind of tension. You wanted him to make that sound again. But before you could find ways of achieving that, on the periphery of your attention, you heard the distinctive sound of footsteps approaching fast. Then they stopped abruptly and were replaced with a shocked gasp.

You opened your eyes and found yourself staring straight at Anna. Fuck. She was frozen in the spot three meters away and had a bewildered expression on her face. You knew there was no way in hell she has not realised what was going on. You could only watch as her face scrunched up in a scowl before she turned on her heels and almost ran back down the corridor. That image was enough to help you wake up from the daze. Gently you disentangled from Neil, who looked confused. Despite the reality of the situation downing on you, you grinned seeing his ruffled hair and disoriented gaze.

“Well done, now Anna hates me” you warily eyed the corridor before settling your eyes on him again.

You watched as he slowly absorbed the information, frowned, and then brightened up again when he met your gaze.

“Pretty sure she did already” he eyed you carefully as though assessing the state he brought you to.

Conscious of how you looked, you smoothed your hair and patted your blazed cheeks. There was no pretending that nothing happened, even if you wanted to.

“Why?” you arched your eyebrow at the implication.

“You know why” he just smiled as though it explained everything.

You didn’t know why. At all. You watched as he ruffled his hair even further by combing a hand through it, and your eyes settled on the exposed forearm and rolled up sleeves. For some reason seeing him like that was very thought-provoking. You knew he caught your stare when you heard him chuckle.

“Like what you see?” it was that smug smirk again.

You could not help but roll your eyes at him. This time the voice of reason was not so easily ignored.

“We really should talk before…” you did not even want to finish the sentence.

“Before?” Neil took a step closer again.

“Before we do something much more reckless than… this” you gestured vaguely and took a step back.

“Would that really be so bad?” he bit his lip and eyed you curiously again.

You have had enough. Placing a hand on his chest, you pushed him back. That clearly surprised him.

“Let’s just talk. Please” you put on your best puppy eyes just for him.

That did the job. Thankfully.

“Couldn’t say no to that” he grinned and took your hand in his “C’mon”

Now you just had to figure out what to tell him. The only issue was that you had no idea about how you felt… Fun.

[agntofhydra]

Sawbones // TWO

(gif credit) 

summary: Red String of Fate Soulmate AU

Soul mates have a red thread tied to each others pinkies that only one of them can see.

You’re the Resistance’s head medic. You can see the red thread of fate that leads you to your soulmate. Poe doesn’t believe in the soulmate / thread theory. You don’t agree with his tactics, nor does he approve of yours. Leia and Holdo just really want a win.

pairing: poe dameron x reader

rating: mature for later chapters

read me on ao3! 

part one here!

read on till the end for notes! 

SAWBONES

TWO // PULLED TAUGHT

No.

You hadn’t been avoiding him.

You were busy. Taking inventory, filling out incident reports, stocking, taking care of your patients - which, you noticed, had decreased in number over the last couple days. And you knew why.

Someone must’ve been taking better care of their pilots.

Jasti was released the morning after the whole - for lack of a better term - ordeal. She’d heard your violent retching and had banged on the door, asking if you were okay.

Your vision was white, and after about two rounds you were dry heaving. No fucking way, your mind rattled. The revelation shook you to your core. You were happy being unsuspecting, ignorant of the fact that your soulmate had been pittering around D’Qar for literal months while you sat in your office, pissing off FX-7 and berating their antics in your head. The furrow of his eyebrows, the flicker of concern in his eyes at your sudden change in demeanor when you saw his pinky also had ingrained itself in your mind. Lingered every time you shut your eyes. You must’ve stayed in the refresher for an hour or two, senses numbed to Jasti’s incessant banging on the door.

You also weren’t good with conflict, and a conflict this was indeed.

What were you supposed to do? Tell him? Would he even believe you? Ziff said he didn’t trust the concept anymore, too many girls taking advantage of where he once was soft. Exploited that weakness until it was solid beskar.

So no, you didn’t tell him.

You’d stayed busy. He was busy, too. Per your objections, Leia had him and his squadrons flying more recon and actually formulating a real operation to investigate the cargo ship orbiting around Kessel. You’d heard that from whispers in the hallway, and you didn’t really want to venture out for any updates.

Turns out, you wouldn’t have to.

As if your thoughts had summoned him, Poe was dragging a pilot from blue squadron into your medbay, one of their arms around his shoulder, one of his around their waist. His eyes were searching, panicked until they met yours as you flew from your office and threw the pilot onto the first open bed.

“What happened?” You asked, immediately checking for vitals. His skin was burning, clammy. FX-7 recorded his temperature and your heart dropped at the number.

“We were flying back, literally leaving hyperdrive when I was notified Blue Three was having trouble, and could barely steer his x-wing through D’Qar’s orbit.” Poe paused. “His skin is on fire.”

“I’m aware,” you tried not to bite back as you threw FX-7 an IV bag. You also did not dwell on the fact that Poe didn’t even know this pilot’s name. “Do we have hadeira serum?”

“You did inventory,” FX-7 duly responded as he inserted a needle into the pilot’s basilic vein. Poe cringed and looked away, eyes focused on you instead.

You hadn’t really done inventory, and you were cursing yourself for it now.

“Wait,” Poe frowned. “Hadeira? You think he’s got bloodburn?”

“He’s been in with a fever before,” you muttered as you rifled through the cabinet on the opposite wall. Poe followed, barking over your shoulder.

“And you didn’t ground him?”

You paused, closing your eyes for a second and taking a deep breath before returning to your search. You really didn’t need Dameron on his high horse right now, questioning your calls.

It was only fair. You had done it to him, you reminded yourself. That didn’t mean you couldn’t whip around and land one in the middle of his chiseled, ridiculously handsome and symmetrical face. You groaned audibly at not only your thoughts, but your inability to locate the literal life-saving serum.

“Back off, Dameron,” you said between your teeth as you all but sprinted back into your office where you kept the more valuable medicines. You unlocked the closet behind your desk with your hand and entered, eyes scanning the shelves. Once again, Poe followed.

“What’s wrong, doc? Don’t like it when people question your authority?”

You finally turned to him, slightly put off by the fact he was less than a meter away. You didn’t let it show.

“You wanna do this right now?” You raised your eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest and the thread around his pinky was directly in your field of vision. You held back the bile that rose in the back of your throat.

“His fever is so high that his blood is boiling right now. Which will kill him. So please, Dameron. If you think this argument is worth more than me finding the serum and saving his life,” you punctuated each word, “keep talking. But I’m not listening.”

Your eyes caught the vials to the right of his head, and he stepped out of the closet and into the expanse of your office as you grabbed the vials and quickly returned to the medbay where FX-7 had started hydrating the pilot. You handed the droid the hadeira serum and FX-7 made quick work of administering.

You let out a long breath. You weren’t totally in the clear, but it was as under control as it could be. Poe gave you a look and you nodded, silently telling him his pilot was okay. For now.

Poe stared at him for a couple moments longer, and once he was satisfied leaving him in the care of FX-7, he kicked your boot lightly.

“Can we talk now?”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded and led him back into your office. Poe sat down in one of the stark white chairs that matched the rest of your office as you locked the medicine closet. You turned around to him but kept your distance.

“What’s there to talk about?”

He bit the inside of his cheeks to keep him from grinning. “I don’t bite, y’know.”

You rolled your eyes, but nonetheless moved closer to him and sat atop your desk.

The red thread floated between the both of you, moving as if it was being jostled by the air currents in the room. Before you could even think, your left hand went to pluck at the string tied near the base of your finger. To your utmost surprise, the now tangible string pulled back due to your force. You let go in shock. The string vibrated and you watched the movement travel to shake the thread connecting to Poe. He coughed, left hand clenching and unclenching his fingers. You watched the action and met his eyes. Once again, he furrowed his brows.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

It was your turn to furrow your brows, and Poe continued, “Y’know. Looking into space and then turning pale like there’s a rancor in here that I don’t see. And then you look at me like it’s my fault?"

It’s now or never, you told yourself. Come clean.

“It’s nothing.” Coward.

Poe dropped the subject. “Anyways, you must’ve been swamped these last few days because you haven’t checked in to hear any updates on the cargo ship.”

Not trusting your voice, you just shrugged as your eyes rested back on the crimson that connected the two of you. Seeing it was definitely a curse. You tried not to dwell on how different things would be if it was Poe that could see it. What a weight off your shoulders that would be.

Maybe if he could see it, it wouldn’t be you on the other end, the voice in head told you. Poe was still rambling about Kessel and you definitely weren’t listening. You don’t want that, do you? For him to be soulmates with someone else?

It happened all the time though, people ending up with those who they weren’t tethered to. The galaxy was far too huge and vast, many people never having the opportunity to leave their home planet, let alone venture and seek out their soulmate. Some people, Poe included now, saw it as a myth, it was becoming so rare. You’d only ever known one pair of soulmates to meet in the years you’d been alive. Your parents.

Either way, your mind needed to slow down. You didn’t know Poe. From what you’ve seen of him, despite his impeccable physical features, you weren’t really a fan. But...just regarding his physical features? Big fan.

He snapped you out of your reverie. “Stars, you are infuriating.”

You apologized, placing your hands in the front pockets of your medic coat in hopes to ignore the thread, but it stuck out of the material of your pocket instead.

“There’s no harm in collecting more intel,” you told him. “Especially if it saves lives.”

He rubbed his forehead. “There is if it’s time sensitive! The ship could leave Kessel at any moment and then we’ll never know what was on it.”

You snorted. “You said it’s been in your knowledge for a while, been written off until now. I don’t buy it. I don’t know what you’re wanting from me, Dameron, but I won’t apologize. This is how I feel, and General Organa and Vice Admiral Holdo agree with me.”

“I want a common ground,” he said. Your gut twisted. “We met not ten minutes before you blasted me to pieces in that briefing room.”

“I don’t think you’re used to opposition.”

“I’m not.”

“You should always consider every point of view, especially for things like this. Have you heard about the terror running the First Order? You really want to face him in your little x-wing?”

Poe jerked his head. “Do not insult my ship.”

“Stars, Dameron, can you listen to a voice that isn’t your own for five seconds?”

“I was listening, obviously, ‘cause I heard your jab about my ship.” You could force-choke him right now. “But I get where you’re coming from. Where you’re more conservative and safe, I’m intuitive and risky and you hate it,” he said with a smile that met his eyes.

“I would call it impulsive and ill-informed,” you countered. You definitely didn’t hate bantering with him. You noticed subtly that over the course of the conversation, Poe had begun to move closer to you, inching closer and closer to the edge of the chair.

“Astute and adept,” he stood, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes never left yours.

“Reckless and arrogant.” You didn’t want him to come any closer, unsure if you would either retch all over his shoes or bunch up the material of his brown leather jacket in your grip to pull him closer.

As if the stars were listening and answered, FX-7 appeared in the doorway. Your eyes broke from Poe’s, turning your attention to the droid and Poe followed suit.

“Pilot Nunb’s fever has broken,” it said. “He will make it through the night.”

Night? You realized you’d been so consumed the last couple days you’d lost all concept of time.

“Great news,” Poe said, turning from FX-7 back to you. “I need to go tell the rest of blue squadron.” Poe shamelessly looked you up and down.

“‘Till next time, Doc.”

Poe sidestepped the droid in the doorway without another glance at you. You remained on your desk, hands still in your pockets as you watched the thread disappear into the wall as Poe left.

“It is hardly relevant to speak in matters that pertain to humans,” FX-7 began, “let alone ones that concern my superior, but if I may?”

You couldn’t hide your confusion. FX-7 never spoke to you unless it was a medical matter. You nodded for him to go ahead.

“You are consumed with plenty. I caution against adding Commander Dameron to the list.”

You frowned. “FX, do you know about the soulmate thread?” What harm would it be to tell a droid? FX barely talked to you, and chances were zero that the droid would air this to anyone else.

The droid lifted its metal head up and down. “Yes.”

It was the most humanistic the droid had ever been, and you felt mildly miffed. Has FX-7 always been able to not be so robotic? You’d save that thought to be pissed about another time.

“I can see it,” you said quietly. “It’s tied to him.”

FX-7 was silent, motionless for a few moments and it almost seemed like he had powered down. “That is…” he paused. “Inconvenient.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said, hopping down from your desk. Your hands left your pockets to run through your hair as you tried to clear your thoughts and just breathe.

“Is that why you have busied yourself more than usual?”

“Didn’t wanna deal with it,” you nodded. “Still don’t.”

“That will only prove to make things more arduous. You have two options when it comes to Commander Dameron, and you know which I favor. For the good of the Resistance and your work.” FX-7 then left the doorway to your office as promptly as he had arrived.

✗ ✗ ✗

You fell asleep in your office that night, or maybe it was morning by the time you collapsed against your desk. Despite FX-7’s confirmation, you couldn’t let yourself go back to your quarters when the pilot in your medbay was teetering on the cusp of cardiac arrest.

Leia Organa woke you by softly brushing the hair out of your face. Your head lifted instantaneously, a paper stuck to your cheek. You quickly removed it and smoothed down the rest of your hair to at least try and look presentable.

“General,” you regarded her, standing up from your seat. She smiled softly at you.

“Doctor, I apologize for waking you.”

You shook your head and tried not to wince when you peeked at the digital numbers glaring at you upon the wall.

“I needed to be awake, anyways. I’m late for rounds,” you muttered the last part to yourself.

“I came to update you on the operation,” she moved back around your desk and sat down in the seat Poe had occupied only a few hours prior.

“We’ve received intel that the TIE fighters stationed in front of the ship are no longer there, presumably to return to the First Order to refuel or receive maintenance. It’s a narrow window, but Commander Dameron and both Red and Blue squadrons have departed a few hours ago to hopefully investigate that cargo ship.”

You nodded at her words and contained the frown from surfacing on your face. Your stomach knotted, fearing that the absence of First Order protection was all too convenient, and they were falling into a trap.

The First Order was smart, something you had learned first hand. You’d been on their radar for as long as you could remember. The bad guys needed medics, too.

Some of your peers that you had completed medical school with had left to join, and ultimately you couldn’t blame them. The offer was tempting, yet mostly threatening. Most of them joined more out of fear than anything. You had been moments away yourself, but instead you were here. On D’Qar. A vital part of the Resistance. If you were someone who believed in such phenomena, you would swear the galaxy itself had made sure of it.  

“Have you heard anything since they left?” You asked.

Leia shook her head, trying to hide her worried expression. “They’re in good hands. Poe is the best pilot I’ve seen since…” She stopped herself. “He’s the man for this.”

“So I’ve heard,” you said. “I hope he proves me wrong. And also brings every pilot back in one piece.”

“Together, I think you two would make quite the formidable pair.”

“With respect, General,” you tried not to snort at her words. “I think it’s better if we keep our distance. Our stubbornness might tear a rift in the galaxy.”

“Or,” she winked. “It could bring it together.”

You had no response.

“I’ll be back should there be any word from Poe, and - “

Leia’s words were cut off by the familiar screech of a x-wings cutting into the atmosphere and landing on the runway.

Wordlessly, the two of you all but sprinted from the medical wing out into the open, expansive area that was the runway. Countless others were surfacing outside, watching the ships land and be courted off into the hangars for repairs. From what you could tell, they all looked fine. No exposed wires or blaster burns. For the most part, the squadrons looked untouched. The last ship to land was Poe’s black and orange T-70.

The second the x-wing was stopped, Poe all but threw himself from the cockpit, shucking his helmet off and chucking it at the ground. BB-8’s body blurred as the droid tried to keep up with his long, quick strides. His eyes met Leia’s first, immediately spurning his feet to turn in her direction. When he eventually realized you were also next to her, his eyes all but physically set you on fire.

You held your breath as he crossed the runway. Poe looked downright dangerous, he was so angry. Leia noticed this too, but did not change her demeanor as she waited patiently for him to come to her, hands clasped behind her back.

“Mission report, Commander Dameron,” she said.

“Can we discuss this somewhere else?” Poe asked as he stopped walking, finally reaching his destination. BB-8 rolled up a second later. His eyes flicked to yours.

“We can, but the Doctor will be there regardless.”

Poe wanted to scream.

“The mission went as smoothly as expected. We were met with no First Order resistance or ambush as we docked and investigated the cargo ship.”

“And what did you find?”

Poe took a deep breath, calming his heartbeat that was deafening in his ears. His fists clenched and unclenched, and unfortunately the thread was still there. Except this time, it was pulled taught between your bodies when it usually sagged with slack.

“We found spice, General.”

Oh.

Maybe you did believe in some higher power. There had to be someone pulling the strings behind this scenario. You wanted to laugh, point your finger and tell him ‘told you so’. But you didn’t, because the tension and anger in Poe’s body was so apparent that it looked like he was a chain pulled so tight it wasn’t a matter of if, but when he would snap.

So you settled for pursing your lips very tightly.

“Nothing else to report?” Leia questioned.

Poe shook his head.

“I’m glad you all made it back safe,” she said, putting her hand on Poe’s shoulder. “It was one mission, Poe. There will be other opportunities.”

He nodded, not meeting her eyes as Leia took her leave. The two of you stood in intolerable silence and you weren’t sure why Poe didn’t immediately sprint off as soon as Leia left.

“I’m glad everyone made it back safely,” you spoke slowly, offering a metaphorical olive branch.

Poe cocked his head, eyes narrowing as he met yours. You braced yourself, waiting for him to maybe pull out his blaster and take you out on the spot.

“Save it,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold the venom you expected. “Do you want me to tell you that you were right?”

You shrugged. “Not required, but I’m not against it.”

He did not accept your poor attempt at lightening the mood. Instead, he sighed deeply and dragged a hand down his face.

“I look like a complete joke . Making such a big deal out of this whole operation, only to be completely and utterly wrong.” He laughed dryly, and you tried not to wince.

“But you know who was right? A fucking medic. The holier-than-thou doctor who doesn’t ever leave her medbay, but the one time she does she completely undermines everything.”

Of course, it was your fault. Poe didn’t want to face the fact that his lack of patience and impulsiveness had forced him and his whole squadron to investigate a cargo ship full of spice. Against your better judgement, you let him continue his diatribe. He continued, berating your position, your lack of expertise and inability to, how did he put it? Stay out of matters that don’t pertain to you. He seemed to have forgotten the minute detail that Holdo had asked for you to be there, even though you reminded him of that fact last night.

After a ridiculous amount of time, Poe eventually stopped to catch his breath. As soon has he did, he tried to continue.

“Not to mention - “

You cut him off. “Are you done?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I could go on all day.”

You crossed your arms. “I’m sure you could. Because you absolutely have the right to completely tear me down when we met for the first time a couple days ago.”

“I’ve heard enough about you,” Poe countered.

“As have I,” you clenched your jaw. “Your reputation precedes your rank, Dameron. You really think you’re going to earn respect and trust around the base when you’re running through every female here? You think that speaks well of your character? You think that’s Commander behavior?”

Poe interlaced his hands on the top of his head as he laughed at you incredulously.

“I can’t even stand to breathe the same air as you right now,” Poe said.

How fucking immature. You narrowed your eyes. “Then stop breathing.”

At your words, the red thread tightened around your finger painfully. So tight, it felt as though it was about to cut through and remove the finger entirely. Your other hand rubbed at your finger -  desperately, futilely trying to loosen the string.

Poe watched your action, and then sucked in a breath through his teeth as he grasped as his own pinky in pain. He noticed his movements mirrored yours.

“Wha-” he paused. “Wait - “ Two pieces clicked in Poe’s brain.

But it didn’t matter, because you were already retreating, your steps quick and purposeful. You were fleeing back to the medbay and away from whatever was about to come out of Poe’s mouth. You couldn’t deal with it, not now and probably not ever.

You didn’t miss the way his eyes watched your hands before watching his own, his forehead creasing with confusion, then what you hoped wasn’t realization. You didn’t think your actions obvious, but if he felt the same pain you did, it was impossible not to notice.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, your mind spiraled. Poe called your name, your actual name, but you were too far gone and nothing short of the force would make you go back to him.

This time, your interaction with Poe Dameron didn’t end with emptying your guts in the refresher, but by entering your office and locking it.

Small victories.

_ 

thank you all so so so much for all the positive feedback and support!! i love it!!! i’ve gotten a couple requests for a tag list so if you’d like to me to create one / be added to it just send me a message! also, if i made a playlist for this, would y’all be interested? lmk! xoxo. 

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Part IV

A Sobbe fake-dating Hogwarts AU that one person asked for and I dove into headfirst

Part I // Part II // Part III // Part IV

Requests are open if you have any oneshot ideas or opinions on how this should continue!

In their bedroom that night, Jens had a whole roll of parchment full of ideas. Robbe fell asleep first on the common room couch after Hufflepuff’s party, and meandered to his room at three AM to find Jens awaiting him on the windowsill. Aaron, conked out, had pulled the curtains of his four-poster shut and cast a few silencing charms for privacy.

“Muffliato,” Robbe cast under his breath, just in case. Aaron wasn’t the greatest at Charms.

“I was supposed to patrol tonight,” Robbe told Jens. “Did Jana go alone?”

Jens nodded. “She said you would’ve lost her anyway, whatever that means.”

“You’re talking again?”

“Uh, yeah, of course. Okay, here, look at this…” Jens smacked down his parchment on the little floor space they had in their bedroom. Each little segment of dormitory housed four boys with their beds in a circle around the heater in the middle. While Jens, Robbe, and Aaron didn’t have a fourth shoved in with them, the fourth bed’s curtains were also closed. Robbe assumed it was Moyo staying over after the party. Their copious belongings covered most available surfaces: books piled up next to bedspreads, clothing strewn over trunks, candy wrappers overflowing from trash bins.

“I think you have to dial it up,” Jens explained. He flattened the parchment until Robbe could kind of read his sloping cursive. The title at the top of the page was scribbled out, replaced with the words Operation Ditch-Noor. “Noor seems more persistent.”

Robbe thought back on their conversation. It made his head hurt to think. “She’s done.”

“Didn’t seem it today. How much did you drink?”

“I can read it,” said Robbe. He, in fact, could not read it. Why did Jens have to write everything in cursive?

The party itself had gone by pretty smoothly, from what he could piece together at the moment. Sander turned on music from his player, an upbeat song called Rebel Rebel, and had everyone spinning in circles on the common room carpet. Robbe didn’t remember kissing Sander at all. He remembered taking a cupful of punch from Aaron and not asking about its alcohol content. The girls left early to go console Zoë on the loss, and he’d woken up with a blanket that he didn’t have when he fell asleep.

Actually, that was a pretty solid outline considering the circumstances. Good on Robbe.

Jens gave Robbe a minute to puzzle through the spirals on the parchment. If he looked at it sideways, it might be a picture of a big black dog.

“Thoughts?” said Jens. He bumped Robbe’s shoulder with his own. Robbe looked around. When did they sit on the floor?

“Good,” he said.

“Good. It was a major oversight on your part, not having a public date in the first week. You’re going to have to compensate now.”

“What?”

Jens sighed. “Like, you have to be twice as convincing. Why am I even friends with you?”

“You’re so smart,” Robbe agreed.

“Is that Robbe?” said the fourth bed. It didn’t sound like Moyo. Moyo’s drunk voice was always deeper than his normal one, full of false bravado, while this one was much lighter. Sure enough, Sander peeked his head out from the curtains. His hair stuck up in all different directions.

Jens got up from the ground and smacked Sander’s arm as Sander tried to reach for Robbe. “You don’t have to trick us. Jeez.” He addressed Robbe again. “He’s been like this all night.”

Sander ignored him. “Come over here,” he said to Robbe. “I haven’t seen you.”

“You saw me,” Robbe said.

“Not a lot.”

“Yeah, so this is the kind of material we need.” Jens pointed at the parchment roll. “Noor’s going to leave you alone.”

“Come here, Robbe.”

Robbe sobered—while Sander didn’t exactly sound serious, there was something more in the way he said those words. What, Robbe couldn’t be sure. He was probably projecting, making the whole thing up.

Sander’s clothing was rumpled, a stain on the collar of his shirt. There were circles around his eyes as if he’d been rubbing them. His perfect hand was just begging to be held—the vision began to blur a little bit on the edges, and Robbe had to blink a few times to make the picture clear again.

This wasn’t real. He was drunk and it wasn’t real. Robbe was hallucinating or something, that’s what it was.

And he didn’t want to sleep with Sander, at least, not yet.

“I am going to be physically ill,” said Jens. “Save this.”

They left the parchment on the floor. Jens climbed into his bed, Robbe into his. Sander left the curtains open on bed four, staring over at where Robbe lay, so Robbe left his own curtains open. Gotta have that line of sight. He knew Sander was drunk as a skunk, but goodness, it felt wonderful to have his attention.

“Goodnight, love,” he called over.

Jens covered his head with a his pillow. "Kill me."

***

Sander was gone when Robbe got up the next day, and just as well, because it was one PM. Robbe’s head hurt like a motherfucker. Good news, though: he could now read the parchment Jens had tacked to the door of their dormitory. Not without pain, but without much struggle. In the bottom left-hand corner, an artsy signature marked that Sander understood the objectives. Sander Driesen. He dotted the i in his last name with a little circle instead of a plain dot.

Robbe speed-read the document to the best of his ability. And panicked. If Sander was following this, they had plans at five today.

He gathered his things and dashed to the shower, careful not to wake up anyone else who might still be sleeping. Aaron seemed to have gone out; his bed was empty. Jens wasn’t visible, and Robbe didn’t think it right to open the bedcurtains to see if he was there. The shower water was freezing cold. Robbe did a little warming spell he thought he remembered and ended up evaporating it all.

He took a very cold shower.

When that was done, he changed into a collared shirt with a sweater overtop and a pair of khaki pants. Casual date outfit, check. Fake date. Couldn’t forget that. He appraised his reflection in the mirror for too long to be considered normal.

There was plenty to do in the span between now and five o’clock—exams were three weeks away and Robbe didn’t know the main ingredients of Amortentia. But he couldn’t bring himself to open the books. It made much more sense to pace around the room.

Of course they’d go on a date. Real relationships would have dates.

And Sander—last night—it was nothing.

Robbe spent a lot of his mental energy convincing himself that things didn’t matter. He spent a little more trying to forget this revelation.

Four forty-five arrived before he could list out all the possible ways a date could go wrong.

The castle was always louder on Saturday afternoons and evenings. With the morning’s hangover remedied, students were free to gossip as they pleased. As Robbe headed down the stairs to the dungeons, where Jens’ note detailed he would meet Sander, he heard no less than four separate conversations that should have been private. Two Gryffindors were having a Wrackspurt problem in their dormitory. Several Slytherins discussed a magical cure for gonorrhea that would not alert Madame Pomfrey to their situation. Yasmina and Zoë attended extra Potions sessions together, and Robbe heard them debating the proper way to skin a human arm for use. Most of interest: Britt and another girl in the final hallway.

“Sander doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Britt lamented. “I don’t think he’s been going to the hospital wing.”

“You don’t know that,” the girl replied, resting a comforting hand on Britt’s back.

Robbe tried to shrink back on himself as he walked by.

Britt wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “And I’m the one that’s gonna be there when it goes to shit.”

Give it up, thought Robbe. He booked it the rest of the way to the Slytherin common room’s entrance.

Sander was waiting beside the door, his back against the stonework. His look today was different than Robbe had ever seen it, a leather jacket and a t-shirt paired with tight black jeans. When he raised a hand to wave at Robbe, the shirt rode up enough to expose a line of pale skin. Robbe felt overdressed in his sweater. Sander shouldn’t think he was taking this too seriously.

“Where are we headed?” Sander asked, as soon as Robbe was within asking range.

Robbe’s eyes went wide. “I thought you were planning it.”

“I've been hungover.” Sander pushed away from the wall. He slipped his hand into Robbe’s, and they headed for the staircase that led out of the dungeons. Usually, only Slytherins used it. “I'm good with whatever. For Britt, obviously. Somewhere she'll see."

The staircase spit them out into the upstairs hallway. Sander brought them outside through the front doors and down into the sprawling lawn. He stopped once his feet hit the grass, and turned to Robbe. “Dealer’s choice.”

“Did Jens give instructions?”

“Jens doesn’t dictate your dating life.”

Robbe frowned. “My fake dating life.”

He hated Sander’s pained expression. “Yeah, exactly.”

Only one way to make Sander smile again, and that was to go somewhere nice. Robbe surveyed the campus. They couldn’t go to Hogsmede today unless they snuck there, and Sander wasn’t in subtle attire. There was the forest, all of those beautiful, towering trees, but there was a fifty percent chance of death if they got too close. The Whomping Willow ruled out a good chunk of grassy lawn. He knew their only option would be to sit by the lake.

Lots of couples sat by the lake. Any fake relationship should feature a date there. It got foot traffic, it was public, it screamed to the world hey, we’re together.

Robbe didn’t bring a blanket. What if he got cold?

What if Sander got cold?

The thought alone of Sander cuddled into his side was enough to drive Robbe to action. He wondered what that said about him as a person.

“The lake,” said Robbe. “We can—um—we can be there.”

“You have something to sit on?”

“Uh…”

“Yeah, I counted on it.” Sander reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny square of fabric. With a wave of his wand, it grew into a full-sized picnic blanket in his arms. “Show me where you want to be.”

***

The early evening air, combined with the chill off the lake, had Robbe shivering in no time. He should have brought his coat out with him, but it wasn’t in the best shape, and he worried that mending spells could only keep it alive for so much longer. Best to save it for winter, when things got bad. Sander, on the other hand, had no problem removing his own jacket and sliding it around Robbe’s shoulders. He wrapped one bare arm around Robbe, sliding his hand into Robbe’s back pocket.

“This is nice,” he said.

“Cold,” said Robbe.

“I’ll tell Jens to plan the next one. He seems to like us as a couple.”

Something in Robbe’s stomach fluttered. The possibility of more intoxicated him. He caught himself before the desire became too strong; there had to be more. No convincing fake relationship was just one date.

Dusk crept in along the sky. Many of the other couples gathered their things to attend a Great Hall dinner, the likes of which Robbe had not consumed all week. He willed his stomach not to growl. Their blanket was close enough to the lake that casual waves poked at its edges.

“That’s your friend, isn’t it?” said Sander, pointing toward the castle’s open doors.

Robbe looked over. Zoë and Senne made their way across the lawn with their own picnic blanket and a lumpy knapsack. Behind them was Milan, Zoë’s best friend and Senne’s suitemate. Zoë smiled when she saw Robbe and jogged the remainder of the distance between them, dropping to the grass an inch away from Sander’s blanket.

“Look at you!” She pinched Robbe’s cheek. “Date night, I take it?”

Robbe tried not to look sheepish. “Jens said we should.”

“Mmhm,” said Zoë. She turned her attention to Sander. “Tell me the love story. I need to know.”

“Oh, it’s a great story. Settle in.” Sander adjusted his position. He scooted away from Robbe, then gently tipped backward until his head rested on Robbe’s lap. “Picture this. My ex brought her best friend on one of our dates because she was mad at me. We went to the Three Broomsticks.”

Robbe remembered the Three Broomsticks. Obviously. His cheeks heated. He began twisting sections of Sander’s hair around his fingers, if only to do something with his hands. He knew Zoë just wanted to hear what Sander could think up on the fly.

“Her best friend had a date, too. No problem. I was going to spend the time staring at the wall so I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Except, the date walked in, and it was Robbe here, and I just lost it. I saw him sitting there and I thought, Sander, he is the one.”

Now Robbe was really blushing. He wanted to go vaporous and phase through the ground, if he could just remember the spell…

“I thought I was being dramatic, that I needed to give it some time. But I couldn’t get him off my mind. So I broke up with Britt. She used to complain that he spent all his time up in the astronomy tower instead of patrolling. You bet your ass I went there one night to see if he’d come up. And he did.” Sander shrugged. “The rest is history.” He propped himself up and caught Robbe in a chaste kiss.

“Yeah, you can cut the bullshit.” Zoë turned to check Senne’s progress toward them. He was still a decent distance away. “Robbe told me about this.”

Sander huffed. “I said nothing that wasn’t true.” He kissed Robbe again.

“Yeah, pretty sure none of that was true. But I like the backstory. It’s really good.”

“I think I could make it as a writer,” said Sander.

Robbe assumed the conversation would end there. Zoë and Sander did not seem like the types of people who would have much to say to one another. Unfortunately, Zoë’s prying conversation gave Milan time to catch up.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, upon seeing Sander and Robbe together. He got in close to Zoë for a stage whisper. “So this is Robbe's straight guy!” Zoë shot him a look. “What? is he not straight?”

Sander did not miss a beat, even though a statement like that implied Milan knew the truth of the arrangement. “Bisexual, actually. Or pansexual—I’m still trying to figure that part out.”

“Aren’t we all,” said Milan knowingly. “Don’t fall for Robbe, then.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sander laughed. It sounded more resigned than joking. Something inside of Robbe combusted.

Milan and Senne went off and picked a spot a respectable distance away to study for their exams. Robbe noted in passing that Milan was reading pages much deeper in the Potions textbook than he had learned. He hadn’t been to a class since he started fake-dating Sander.

Zoë flashed an apologetic smile. “I didn’t tell him you were straight. Don’t know where he got that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Sander.

“And I didn’t mean to tell him the relationship was fake either, he was just so excited—”

“As long as it doesn’t get to Britt or Noor, we’re fine.”

“Robbe, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Robbe lied.

There were pleasantries afterward, although Robbe didn’t catch the specifics. He had other things to process. Sander talking about how they met—it all felt so real. Robbe found himself in a booth at the Three Broomsticks again, watching Sander take slow sips from his drink. He was in his four-poster bed while Sander slept, the curtains open so they could see each other in the dark.

He stepped on the emotion. Sander said he wouldn’t dream of falling in love with him.

Zoë went off to sit with her best friend and boyfriend, leaving space for Robbe and Sander’s date to begin. Where to begin? Number one: Sander would never fall in love with him because this was all fake. In tandem with Noor’s premonition last night, Robbe suddenly felt like he’d much rather be back inside the castle. In his bed. With the curtains pulled this time.

A headache could get him out of here. An urgent need to throw up? Maybe a mysterious summons from Jens. He needed to remember the charm that let him disappear.

Number two, back to Sander. He had wrapped his arms around his head, exposing that same patch of stomach. A line of black ink that might be a word traced the line of his hipbone down.

“Robbe?” Sander waved a hand in front of Robbe’s face.

Robbe blinked. “Huh?”

“Have you been hearing me?”

“Um,” said Robbe.

“You’re pulling my hair.”

Robbe moved his hands away. His mind was a mess of different thoughts—what would he tell the boys about this? It wasn’t fucking real. And Sander’s head was in his lap right now. He should have seen this coming before… no, he had seen this coming.

“Don’t stop,” said Sander softly. “Just… lighter.”

Robbe ran his hand through Sander’s hair. Lighter. A confession dangled on the tip of his tongue and he needed to push it back down.

“Some of what you said was true,” he said. He hoped Sander could draw the connection across conversations and realize he meant what Sander had said to Zoë, not Milan.

Sander understood. “Most of it was true.”

They waited a moment, listening to the soft waves on the lake and the bustle of other couples nearby.

“Right,” said Sander. “You’ve taken me on a date. The least you can do is tell me something nice.”

“What kind of thing?”

“Do you need Jens to write your speeches too?”

Robbe shied away from the vulnerability angle this time. Sander wouldn’t have any use for the information four weeks from now when exams were over. He marveled over how soft Sander’s hair was between his fingers, despite the fact that the ends were dry and dead from the bleach. “My father was the cook of the family,” he said. Something personal, but not intimate. “He had this recipe for blood sausage that had so many spices my mother could never stomach it. We would bring it to dinner parties when we didn’t like the people. It was funny to watch them try and compliment it during the meal when they clearly hated every last bite.” This was the story’s happier conclusion. Its actual conclusion was that his father took all the recipe cards when he walked out, and Robbe didn’t know the ingredients even though his father promised he’d get them when he turned sixteen.

“Tell me something nice.” He poked Sander.

“I don’t know if what you said constitutes nice,” said Sander. He reached up and ran a finger across Robbe’s chin. But he went on. “There’s this lady where I work over the summer that brings me David Bowie albums. She gets so excited every time she finds a new one in a garage sale somewhere, or at store, and I can’t tell her that I already own the albums already. I have five copies of Space Oddity.”

Robbe didn’t know who David Bowie was.

Another lapse into silence. Sander never seemed to mind a comfortable quiet. He guided Robbe’s head down to his for a simple kiss, but he left his eyes open, and Robbe could follow his sightline to Noor and Britt as they walked back to the castle from who-knows-where.

“Tell me something secret,” said Robbe. This much time without something on his mind could be seriously painful. “I went first last time.”

He kind of wanted Sander to refuse.

“I don’t have any secrets, Robbe.”

“You must have one.”

“Do you?”

Robbe shook his head quicker than he should have. He tried to sound as casual as possible when he said, “I’m an open book,” but he doubted it did any good.

The thing was, it was totally believable that Sander wouldn’t have any secrets. This was the boy who announced his sexuality to a friend of a friend that he didn’t even know. This was the boy who saw someone else in the astronomy tower, unloaded his relationship woes, and promptly kissed said someone else to get away from them. What did he have to hide, besides this relationship? What could someone like him possibly have to hide?

The dying day faded everything out into a stained-glass image that could take up the wall of a Hogwarts bathroom. Robbe let himself relax until his surroundings were no more than shapes and colors, pushing everything from his mind until he could barely process his hands running through Sander’s hair. The thoughts surfaced anyway. He was going to have to tell the boys about this, eventually, and maybe even Sander himself, if that was possible. Even now, his skin was electrified from contact.

So much for pushing back the sexuality crisis. It had to happen today.

“It is kind of nerve-wracking, all these people to convince,” Sander said, out of the blue. “I don’t even know who that guy is.” He pointed vaguely at Milan. “But right here, with us, this is okay. It’s just me. That’s my secret.”

That’s exactly the problem, thought Robbe. It’s just you. And I’m falling in love with you.

He said, “That’s a cop-out. Tell me something else.”

[sneezy-cheeseloaf]

recounting the entire avengers: endgame movie, which i only saw once when it came out, from memory

because i just took the SAT and i want to do anything except think about that so get ready for a fun ride full of holes and my reenactments of scenes and quotes that i remember from however many years it’s been now since endgame came out. buckle the fuckle up

movie opens, clint’s whole ass family fucking dies. cue killing spree fueled by grief and anger. HashTag Relatable

tony is floating through space with nebula and teaching her how to play paper football

holy shit is this how tony dies

“pep” ouc h

oh hey he’s home, dope

The Gang (tm) learns where thanos’s farm is somehow i can’t really remember

“perhaps i judged you too harshly”

“???? thor????” “what? i went for the head”

“five” five what?? days?? weeks??? months???? oh boy i can’t wait to find ou- “years later” HUH???????

steve looks the exact same, so i guess he kept up that workout schedule even through the snap. i mean good for him honestly

and is also running a talk therapy group like sam did

a single smidgen of gay representation but it’s a good start ig

i don’t really remember what everyone else was doing, i just know that tony and pep have morgan now but idk if that gets revealed now or later

the only reason we had a movie is because of a rat. everyone say thank you to Rat for releasing scott lang, please. round of applause

scott’s daughter is all grown up and catch me sobbing over the fact that he wasn’t there to see it

somewhere in here nat is crying and eating a sandwich and honestly girl same

“hey!!! it’s me!!!! scott lang!!! ant man???? also what the hell happened???? lemme IN”

cue scott lang having a single brain cell and bringing up time travel. i think it was him that proposed the idea. maybe not. but imma give him credit

oh yeah bruce and hulk are besties now and bruce is just permanently Like That

and cue everyone being shook at the idea of time travel

time to go see Science Man at his house on the lake

“i wish you had come for anything else.” ouch

gang leaves dejectedly

peter. that’s it. and suddenly tony is all hands on deck

cue science mumbo jumbo in the middle of the night while he eats something out of a bag that i can’t remember

“shit!!” “sHiT!!!” “NO”

“i love you 3000″

Science Man reveals that he has, indeed cracked the code to literal time travel

cue nat, the only person with an umbrella, going to find clint who is busy with murder, as he does

“don’t do that. don’t give me home” stfu budapest man and get in the car.

thor has. enlargened. and is now playing fortnight with korg as a means to cope with what happened plus losing loki, as i think we all would

The Gang is back together and working (surprisingly) coordinately and throwing ideas around and it’s actually very cute. and it makes my heart very happy. and i want to cry every time i think about it because we all know what comes next

scott’s taco gets blown away. bruce gives him another. all is well in the world

and in this exhibit we see the only brain cell in the whole group, which is being used by rhodey at all times

“why don’t we just,,,, (choking motion)” “to a BABY???”

during the time tests someone gets reverted to a baby but i don’t remember who and it’s highkey disturbing

“i consider this an absolute win!!”

cue slo mo walk with the cool white time suits that everyone looks so good in

“see you in a minute” that smile. she looks so happy. sobbing

i think it’s in here that all the color go through steve’s eyes, so let’s just take a minute to acknowledge how pretty he is

“just for the record, that suit did nothing for your ass.” “i don’t remember asking you to look”

“that’s america’s ass.” yes it is scott you’re absolutely right

“i cOuLd dO tHiS aLL dAy” “yeah i knoOoOW”

time for tony to give tony a heart attack and then just stare in what i can only assume is amusement. i’m pretty sure that comes after america’s ass but maybe not

somewhere in here steve is just staring at peggy through blinds and it’s sad when you see it but when you think about it afterwards, it’s so funny for no reason

time to get whacked by a very angry hulk who was not allowed to use the elevator

“NO STAIRS”

tony goes flying. so does the tesseract. loki, in handcuffs, is like “oh bet this is mine now” and. Leaves.

i’m pretty sure it’s bruce who goes and gets schooled by The Ancient One on the multiverse, and i say it’s bruce because i think he’s the only one out of The Gang who could ever actually wrap his head around it

i don’t remember exactly how they get the tesseract but they do

thor and rocket are in asgard and thor has a panic attack, as I think we all would if we had to talk to our dead mother and pretend like we don't know what's going to happen

and remember kids, slapping someone is not the way to handle a panic attack. anyways

a mother always knows

"i'm still worthy!!!!" you always were, thor. you never stopped being worthy

and we have our hammer back

cue sobbing on vormir

“clint. it’s ok. it’s ok.” that smile.

nat’s fucking dead and i’m fucking dead inside let’s keep this party goin

other stones are recovered and i don’t really remember how but hey we got all six

“where’s nat?” cue more sobbing from me and from clint as you can see each and every team member’s heart drop to the fucking floor. especially steve

yeah maybe we’re doing this for half the universe and all the people we lost, but mostly for nat now

tony’s makeshift infinity gauntlet has entered the chat

Green Man is the only one who can physically take the power of the stones, so the fate of literally everything they have ever done up to this point is on him

snap rest in peace bruce’s arm

cue every single person in the theater holding their breath

“guys. it worked.”

cue explosion as their facility gets bombed and i am terrified that it has killed the entire gang

but it obviously has not and i am once again a Class A Idiot

i can't remember if it’s steve or tony who wakes up first but one shakes the other awake and is like “get the fuck up bitch idk what just happened but we got a problem”

everyone is mostly fine. but they’re all alive and that’s what matters

and now we have the setting for the entire rest of the movie basically

oh hey thanos. that’s uh. that’s a big army you got there

i don’t really remember everything that happened with The Past thanos, gamora, and nebula but i remember that gamora once again sees what a twat her adoptive father is and is like “oh hell na”

cue the gang fighting for their lives against Past thanos. literally

oh shit thor’s about to be killed????

OH MY GOD HE HAS THE HAMMER

cue the theater screaming as they should

hell yeah. bonk that giant space grape with the god of thunder’s hammer. you go steve. and look like a badass doing it as you should

shit’s still fucked and they eventually get their asses handed to them one by one

somewhere in here the shield breaks just like we saw in age of ultron. and like damn bro i liked that thing

steve stands up by himself because bitch. you cant kill him unless he says so. he dies on his own terms. he didn’t live for over a fucking century to die like this

our mans is standing up against a whole ass army knowing full well that he can’t win but damn if he aint ready to try

“ok listen strange. you have to open the portal to his left. his LEFT. you hear me???”

“steve. STEVE. on your left.”

cue the most goosebump-inducing scene that i have ever seen and probably will ever see. i would do anything to see that scene for the first time again. that feeling was like nothing i’ve ever experienced

the amazing symphonics are NOT helping my already-about-to-explode-from-excitement heart

now the gang’s ALL here. and we all cry because all of our peeps are back from the dead and we all missed them and highkey grieved for them after infinity war

i can’t remember if steve actually sees bucky yet but i think he does and i wanted to cry on the spot because not only did i miss bucky but man did i just want them to see each other again

cue sick pan of the whole ass marvel roster like smash ultimate, including howard duck somewhere in there

PETER OUR BOY SWINGIN ON IN

“AVENGERS. assemble.” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

but we all know damn well that not a single person could hear him whisper that shit. like steve bro speak up a little

and the battle for the ages commences

we get to see all our favorite boys are girls fuck shit up and it’s absolutely incredible. wow it really feels like someone’s missing who could that be.

this is now a very elaborate game of keepaway

“catch” “Catch” “CATCH “CATCH”

“hey queens” he remembered. catch me cryin

“hey peter. got somethin for me?” god i love her. flew through a whole ass spaceship. no stoppin her

t'challa remembers clint's name. he did care

oh yeah scott is fucking humongous again, but third time’s the charm ig. maybe he won't pass the fuck out this time

somewhere in here, strange starts holding like. an entire ocean back and i dont really remember where it came from

we get a whole segment of marvel women kicking ass and taking names and i think i just need to take a minute. WE collectively need to take a minute

carol flies straight through a spaceship and everyone is like ???? hello????? where have you been?????????

carol gets literally headbutted by thanos and doesnt move a fucking inch. and that look of murder in her eyes. she could tell me to walk into a pit of lava and i would not question it. the power

“launch the missiles!!!” “but sir, our army-” “DO IT”

damn thanos our expectations for you were low but holy fuck

somewhere in here i think petter quill sees Past gamora and is like gamora???? and she like kicks him in the balls or somethin and is like “this is the ones i picked?????”

the fight continues and honestly a lot of it’s a blur but damn was it not the coolest thing i’ve ever seen. 

cue strange knowing exactly how this was gonna go down, and holding up a single finger

i dont think ive ever seen that look on tony's face before

oh shit thanos has the gauntlet and all the stones. fuck.

wait holdup that gauntlet looks a little funky

WAIT HOLDUP

“i am inevitable”

“and i. am iron man.”

the theater, once again holds its breath

all is lowkey calm and everyone is shook

thanos’s entire army slowly fades away. including one of those big worm things that almost eats (i think it was) rocket but like. dusts right as it hits the ground and is a really cool shot

and thanos sits down on a rock. and finally is gone. and it's so cathartic

oh joyous day!! they’ve won!! they’ve done it!!! wait holdup where’s tony. i remember what happened to bruce where the fuck is tony

wait

wait hold on

wait hold on a minute

“we did it. we won, mr stark. we won. please, mr stark”

“pep.”

“it’s ok. you can rest. you can rest.”

i have officially passed away and am a sobbing mess. you can’t do this to me. he’s gonna come back. there’s no way. tony stark doesn’t die. no.

this is a fucking funeral. i am going to combust into tears

“proof that tony stark has a heart”

i just wanted him to be able to see morgan grow up.

but him and nat are eating shawarma together in the sky now.

“i’m recording this in case something goes wrong, which it won’t.”

“i love you 3000.”

oh we’re still rolling. oh we don’t even get a minute to process

steve is leaving??? wait holdup we cant lose both. no

“are you sure about this?” “i have to”

“i’m with you til the end of the line” so that was a fucking lie

but steve deserves to do what makes him happy. so i can’t be too mad. actually, nah i aint even mad i’m just sad

bucky looks so dejected. so sad. someone please give him a hug. he desperately needs it

oh hey steve. but you’re old now. hey then, grandpa. how did you. get there

buck and sam go talk to him as they should

“you wanna talk about her?” “no, i don’t think i will”

“how does it feel?” “like it belongs to someone else”

sam has officially inhered the shield, and by extension, his very own bucky barnes. it’s a packaged deal

clint’s got his family back. and they can finally finish their picnic or whatever they were doing at the beginning of the movies

and steve finally got that dance. finally. and he looks so happy. so content.

and that’s about all i remember

i have not watched endgame since i saw it in theaters when it came out because i absolutely do not have the emotional stability to do it again. but damn the disney plus shows have been bangin

i hope you enjoyed the ride, thank you for joining me in my. whatever the fuck this is

[unholyhymns]

Demonolatry Anon again I'll use 🐇 so you know it's me. Your response helped me a lot, thank you! I'm currently reading The Black Arts, and while reading a dream interpretation I was called by a spam number with 999 after the area code in my town after reading about Sorath the night before. I'm having trouble meditating (intrusive, probable adhd) and quelling my fear to the point I got so frustrated I started sobbing. I want to become knowledgeable enough pray, invoke even, but I'm terrified of disrespecting or insulting a demon. I've heard Lucifer and King Paimon are pretty chill, and I've had a fascination for FurFur for a couple years now. But it's still nerve-wracking. Here are my questions. You don't have to give extensive details about your relationship or your gods name btw I've seen that that's pretty personal so no hard feelings! :)

-When did you know you were ready to invoke for the first time? And how did it go?

Did your god reach out to you first? Or did you start your journey to them?

Have you been plagued by actual evil spirits/tricksters?

Do you actually see a "physical" manifestation of your god/whoever you invoke or is it more of a very strong feeling? Do you hear their voices?

Has your faith and relationship with your god made you happier?

-🐇

ah, that emoji is adorable. i’ll tag your asks as bunny anon so you can find them :) i’m glad my ask helped! i definitely understand the frustration. i have huge attention span issues, but the biggest thing that helped me was making myself keep a routine. and also remembering that its not a race. i could only meditate for five minutes at a time, and im now at like ~30 mins if im just sitting and hours if im writing. but that took years and i had to keep telling myself that i would get there at my own pace, and to not compare my progress to others’.

and i don’t know that i’d call any of the demons “chill”, even Lucifer. but respect goes a long way, and they usually know when disrespect is intentional or not. but yeah, i can understand it being nerve wracking and frightening, especially given pop cultural depictions of demons. the best i can say is that they aren’t as malicious as media depicts but they also aren’t all love and light. they’re powerful and hold respect in pretty high regard, but beyond that, interactions can vary wildly from demon to demon and even from person to person.

(as an aside, i dont mind sharing. i worship the Devil/Satan, though i know him under a few names)

-i don’t know that i’ve invoked anyone. tho i might have the wrong definition of invoke in mind? i pray a lot, and do some form of automatic writing that probably counts, (and divination and meditation) but i haven’t necessarily called anyone into myself. so you dont have to invoke, especially if thats not something you feel you’re ready for. ive been worshipping him for ~14 years and i havent really tried to do it. if you mean just kind of reaching out in prayer/ meditation, i did it right away rhrjrhrh i was serious when i said i fuck around and find out. it has… gotten me into trouble in other instances but i like adventure. i didn't put much mind into whether or not i was ready. i wanted to talk to him, so i reached out. it didn't go badly, but i was fairly young so i think i was given some leeway lmao.

if you mean more along the lines of calling him into me, ill use my writing as an example. i didn't start that in earnest until last year, 13 years into my journey. not because i didn't feel ready, but more because i hadn't realized i could beforehand. 

-i reached out first. it started as an edgy teenage rebellion thing but i found a lot of joy and solace in it, and he was very… patient with my fumbling attempts at an early spiritual practice. 

-i will preface this by saying i don't really ascribe good or evil labels to deities or spirits, and i wouldn't consider tricksters negative. also i consider him to be a trickster. i never really had any issues with anyone pretending to be him. i think a few spirits have tried but by the time they did i had a fairly decent grasp on who he is so i knew it wasn't him. ive had trouble with spirits in general, though it wasn't because they were inherently malicious. just kind of a… conflict of ideas….

-not physically like right in front of me, but in my mind, yeah. mostly when writing, and on occasion when meditating. it started as just feeling his presence, and eventually i started to see some things. i haven't heard his voice in a physical sense either. if i'm writing, it's more like words just kinda form in my head and i know they're his. 

-yes, very much so. ive found a lot of comfort and love and joy with my god, and my writing (which has become a core part of my practice) brings me a lot of happiness.