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lloydskywalkers · 4 years ago

Note

let me just start out by saying i love ever single one of your stories!!! i’m pretty new to the show and your works just add so much more feeling to everything and it’s sooo good!!! i don’t know if you ever do requests or not, so don’t bother with this if you’re busy!! but if you ever get a chance could you write smthg abt Jay and Kai? their friendship is so underrated but so good and i live for the moments in the show when Kai’s big brother instinct(tm) kicks in for him as well as Nya and Lloyd

aH thank you so much!! i’m so glad to hear that :D and this isn’t...exactly what you asked for, but Kai and Jay have this fun of dynamic that reminds me a lot of me and my brother, and i’ve been tossing around little bits of interaction between them for a while now, so i tried to make something coherent out of those :’D

Jay likes to think he’s pretty good at the whole compartmentalizing thing, for the most part. Mainly because he actually knows what it means, and it is not, for instance, locking your team up in a literal compartment while rushing off to fight the other compartment that is your resurrected homicidal father into submission.

“That was one time,” Lloyd will grumble, as if he’s only almost-died once. And then Jay will flinch, because that’s where his compartments come into play.

(Nadakhan gets one, Unagami gets another, the whole fun-times adoption reveal another, and everything else can get stuffed into the metaphorical attic since they won’t pay rent.)

Unfortunately, the attic is where the bad stuff lives.

Metaphorically.

If Jay had a nickel for every time he almost lost all of his friends, he’d have two nickels, plus another nickel for Cole falling into the fog, and another for Lloyd getting crushed by a roof, and another for Zane blowing up, and another for Nya in that awful dress with paling skin as her breathing stutters and the light in her eyes draining and —

And Jay is way, way too familiar with how it looks when his family dies, and all the nickels in the world won’t help that.

So while Jay likes to think he’s pretty good at compartmentalizing, he also thinks he’s got a valid excuse for the way he reacts when Lloyd goes down in the fight that afternoon. Sure, some vague part of his mind remembers that they’ve got a plan they’re running, and Lloyd should easily be able to handle a tiny little stumble — but Jay’s mind is stuck in glaring oranges and health bars, the unsteady gasping noise Lloyd had made before he went down, dissolving into digitized cubes just like everyone else, and Jay—

Jay can’t handle that, compartments or not, so he clears the space between them in a heartbeat just in time to take the bullet that comes hurtling Lloyd’s way.

It’d probably be a very noble and touching scene, if one) Jay didn’t make a hideous squeaking noise when it hit because bullets hurt, and two) the bullet would have missed Lloyd by a good two feet anyways.

Ah well, he thinks, as everything devolves into panicked yelling. It’s the thought that counts.

Except thoughts do not count when Kai is involved, apparently. Or any of the rest of the team, for that matter.

“What is wrong with you?” Kai hisses right in his face, eyes wild and sparking. “I was covering Lloyd, what were you doing?”

“Filling in for you, obviously,” Jay retorts. He has an excellent followup to that, real snappy and all, except that’s the moment Kai’s hand clamps down on the bullet wound in his arm to stop the bleeding, and Jay ends up stifling a shriek instead.

Great, he thinks, fighting back stinging tears of pain as he tries not to take Kai’s apparent wrath too personally. At least Cole looks worried, along the the rest of the team, who are dutifully concerned for his wellbeing like proper teammates should be.

“He’s going to need the hospital,” Zane informs them, his voice a lot steadier and calmer than his words make Jay feel. Zane’s eyebrows furrow as he studies his arm. “Stitches, probably.”

Jay swallows, trying not to curse. There’s a sharp scream as Nya finishes taking out another attacker just beyond them, and Jay figures that’s good enough.

“Okay,” Lloyd says, squeezing Jay’s wrist briefly. Either in comfort about the stitches or thanks for trying to cover him, Jay’s not sure. It’s a nice gesture, nonetheless. “Kai, Cole, can you get him there while we finish up? Sooner the better.”

Cole gives a sharp nod, and offers to take Jay from where Kai’s got him in a death grip. Kai shakes his head, and Jay’s stomach sinks. Sure enough, as soon as they’re clear of the scene, Kai starts going off.

“What did you mean, ‘filling in for me’,” he grinds through his teeth, clearly not about to let this go.

Jay bristles in response at his tone. “I meant,” he bites out, through a hot flare of pain in his arm. Kai’s always merciless with the bandages, even when he’s not in a mood. “That you weren’t there. So I covered.”

He should leave it at that, but Jay’s in a foul enough mood to finish with a condescending, “You’re welcome.”

Kai’s expression grows thunderous. “You didn’t need to. I was right there, you shouldn’t have — you weren’t needed, you should’ve held back.”

Jay feels his chest go tight. His head is clouding with anger, and the pain in his arm isn’t helping, but — ‘you weren’t needed’? Kai really didn’t skimp on the jerk juice this morning, did he.

“Oh, like you could’ve done so much better,” Jay glares. “Lloyd would’ve been toast by the time you got to him.”

“I could’ve made it!”

“Yeah right—”

“I would have, and I wouldn’t have gotten hit!” Kai snarls back. Something in Jay snaps. Or maybe it’s just the steadily increasing blood loss, but of all the nerve—

“Well you didn’t, ‘cause you weren’t there!” he snaps back. “You were too slow, which is real funny since your brain is too!”

It’s not his best comeback, he’ll admit, but Kai looks as if he’s about to light him on fire, if he weren’t stuck carrying Jay like the cover of some awful romance novel, blood getting all over his uniform as they both scream at each other. Maybe Jay will get lucky, and Kai will combust, and they’ll both go up in flames before they can remember that Cole is right there watching them.

“Cut it out, now!”

Oops, too late. For all the incensed authority in Cole’s voice, there’s still a traitorous falter that lets them both know they’ve screwed up. They fall silent, the atmosphere heavy with the lingering tension and new sense of guilt.

And the disgusting sound of Jay’s blood leaking through the makeshift bandage and hitting the ground, truly revolting, he hates blood.

“Just…no more. Please, shut up until we’re at the hospital.” Cole marches forward, snatches Jay from Kai’s arms, and proceeds to beat the fastest route to the hospital at a militant pace.

Jay still looks like some helpless romance cover heroine, dangling from Cole’s arms like he is. It occurs to him that he doesn’t even need to be carried — it’s his arm that’s hurt, he can still walk—

But any protests die rapidly at the look on Cole’s face. And at least this way, Jay thinks sullenly, he can fixedly ignore Kai.

Then again, Kai’s got a killer glare, and Jay’s always been garbage at ignoring people when his feelings are hurt.

* * * * * * * *

Despite the fuss everyone makes, Jay’s arm really isn’t that bad. They hook him up with some pretty sweet meds so he remembers zero of the actual arm-fixing, and he wakes up just in time to complain about being held in the hospital for ‘observation’ or whatever.

“It’s to make sure there’s no infection, or that you don’t rip your stitches out,” Nya tells him pointedly. Jay cringes under the look she gives him at that last part. Geez. You get kicked in the stitches one time after sneaking out early and suddenly no one’s got any faith in you. Typical.

“Why couldn’t we have just gone to medbay,” Jay grumbles. “Pixal gives way better stitches than this, anyways.”

“Gun wounds get hospitals,” Nya reminds him. “And it’s not fair to put that kind of pressure on Pix when we can avoid it.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Nya glares at him. “It most certainly was that bad.”

“Oh, so when you get your arm crushed by a car, it’s fine,” Jay glares back. “But when I get a tiny little bullet nick, it’s that bad.”

Nya rolls her eyes, ignoring him. “Just think of it this way,” she says. “Now you have a little more time before Lloyd starts weeping apologies all over you.”

“Aw, no,” Jay groans, leaning back in the hospital bed. “Tell me he’s not blaming himself, Nya.”

“I think we had a promise about not lying to each other, or something,” Nya says, sympathetically. She winces. “Pretty sure he made the connection, too.”

Jay frowns. “What connection?”

Nya shifts, her eyes darting from side to side. “The, uh, the whole…Prime Empire, thing.”

Jay stares at her for a beat, trying to reconcile his blatant shock with the roiling nausea at the mention in his stomach. Nya looking at him all kind and sympathetically isn’t helping, either, because she might have made it down to the final two, but she was never all alone, and the reminder that she’d have been fine if Jay hadn’t gotten her killed twice is—

Bad. Real bad, not good, zero out of ten stars. Maybe he can take a bullet for Nya, next, and that’ll — that’ll help things, maybe. Equivalent exchange? Restitution? Some kind of fancy word that means Jay swears he’s gonna make it up.

In the meantime, he smothers the rising sickness in his throat and sinks lower into the bed, sulking. “It’s too easy to recognize trauma in this team.”

“I hear you,” Nya sighs, wearily. She nudges his shoulder, rising from her seat near the bed. “Speaking of. Someone’s got something they want to say to you.”

It takes Jay a second, but his eyes widen as Nya heads for the door. “Wait, wait wait wait, don’t you dare—”

“Love you,” Nya says cheekily, before taking her merry leave of the room. There’s a brief scuffle from outside, and the sound of Kai yelping, before Nya shoves him through the door, slamming it shut behind him with a damning click.

For a second, Jay’s tempted to hit the ‘call nurse’ button as hard as he can, in some desperate attempt to escape. Then he gets a good look at Kai, who’s turned a pale, queasy color that frankly looks awful on him, which is saying a lot ‘cause there isn’t much that doesn’t look good on Kai, but the expression he has on now—

Aw, man, now Jay’s feeling guilty and it isn’t even his fault. Stupid moral conscience center, he curses himself.

“So, uh…” he begins, because far be it from him to let this kind of awkward silence stretch on any longer. “Nice, ah, weather we’re having?”

Kai doesn’t respond, staring fixedly at the floor, and Jay sizes up the ‘call nurse’ button again. Just for the both of their sakes, of course.

But then Kai takes a deep breath, blows it out, and rocks back on his heels, fiddling with his hands. “I, um. I’m sorry.”

Jay’s jaw drops open. Which is probably an overdramatic move, all things considered, but unless he’s suddenly lost the ability to understand words, Kai just apologized to him.

Kai apologized. To him.

It’s not that Kai apologizing is some great big deal — Kai might have his pride, but he’s also an intuitive and good-hearted person who knows when he’s messed up. But to him?

Jay knows how he and Kai work. Kai knows how he and Jay work, and he’s breaking the rules. Because Kai and Jay don’t apologize to each other. Unless it’s some awkward expression of sympathy, they’ve never needed to. They fight dirty, aim for each other’s kneecaps, swear eternal vengeance and hatred at each other before storming off, then an hour later Jay’s bounding into Kai’s room to show him dumb meme videos and neither of them even remember what they were fighting about.

Acknowledging said fight with something as gushy as apologizing is not only useless since they both forget what they’re apologizing for anyways, but also useless because it’ll take too much time, and counterproductive on top, because it’ll most likely end in another fight about who apologized better. So for Kai to walk in and say sorry—

“Oh no, who did you kill?” Jay says, paling.

Kai spears him with a look, but it’s so pathetically watered-down and miserable that Jay forgets to glare back.

“Sorry, sorry,” Jay mutters. “I just—”

“No, no, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Kai interrupts. He hesitates, then sighs. “But that’s fair. I — I was unfair. To you, back there. Like, really unfair, in a bad way, ‘cause you were shot and I know you meant well, but you—”

Kai gestures wildly with his hands, his stream of words cutting off. Jay is left to stare open-mouthed at him again. Babbling like this is Jay’s thing. Kai is breaking all the rules today, huh.

“I just…” Kai trails off, ducking his head. “I don’t like watching you guys get hurt. I don’t — I don’t like watching you get hurt. And I get scared, but it comes out angry, and then I make a mess of things so I’m — sorry. Really sorry, for biting your head off.”

He exhales, a little shaky, fingers balled up in tight fists as his head hangs low, refusing to meet Jay’s eyes. Something softens in Jay’s chest, like gooey melting butter or something else equally pathetic. But it’s rare that Kai vocalizes this stuff, despite the fact that Jay knows he cares, and it’s nice to hear it, so he figures he’s entitled to all the butter he wants.

Jay’s own gaze falters, and the something starts to twist. He bites his lip, tugging half-heartedly at the bandages around his arm.

“Well,” he pauses, thinking of the way his brain had shifted to autopilot when he’d watched Lloyd falter, the razor-sharp shard of terror that always splinters through him when any of their teammates come too close to the awful images of death left in his head. He swallows. “I guess I don’t really have any room to talk,” he murmurs. “Be pretty dumb if I blamed you for that.”

He’s preparing to sink back into his own well of self-pity and loathing, resigned to spending the next few hours until they check him out of the hospital replaying bad memories in his head, when Kai’s next to him all of the sudden, shoving him over on the hospital bed.

“Hey, hey, what’s the big idea—”

“Move, c’mon. You don’t need that much room, you’re a stick,” Kai grumbles, before grinning brightly in success as Jay makes him space. The contrast in expression is enough to startle Jay into silence, and Kai takes advantage. “I know that look. But you already got shot, so you gotta cheer up now.”

“So you’re forcing me into cheerfulness by stealing my hospital bed,” Jay scowls, but the sting is lost in the sudden surge of affection as Kai elbows his way on the bed with him, a steady warmth by his side.

“I’m gifting you my presence, you should be celebrating,” Kai huffs, as he pulls his phone out. “Now stop looking so sad and watch this video I got of a bunch’a geese chasing Zane at the park the other day.”

“You’re such a jerk,” Jay says, but he’s already snickering as he leans his head against Kai’s shoulder to get a better look.

He’s forgotten to tell Kai he forgives him, but like most things between them — Jay doesn’t really need to say it out loud.

#answered #ninjago #my fic #kai smith #jay walker #tumblr pls format right for once #Anonymous

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shugokairifatewin · 3 years ago

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An AOT Rant for a Freshly Finished Season 4, Part 1 Watcher

Alright, it seems like this has become a habit of mine when I can’t seem to expel something from my mind - so here I am, with yet another rant at the end of a devastating arc of story that has drawn me in, probably a bit too much, as per usual - oops! Time to set the tone and listen to the saddest songs from Attack on Titan that literally rip me to pieces now that we’re all the way in season 4! :’D

So big spoiler warning for anyone who hasn’t caught up on the Attack on Titan anime! Here’s your chance, turn back now or forever hold your peace!

...

......

.........

Alright, we are definitely going to start at the end of season three because um what the ACTUAL fuck? Did NOT expect some “this is the actual world and you’re just ignorant and underdeveloped” bs. I have too many feelings surrounding this and I definitely want to focus on a season 4 rant more than a season three and prior rant (I should really just a start live streaming this clearly!) but one of many feelings is just shock? Also OUR SWEET BABY ANGELS GOT TO SEE THE SEA but it felt... so sad, like this was a turning point? Like even though they saw the ocean and Armin was just so overcome with joy that he got to experience this with his best friends, I felt so sad :c And it felt very much like so much bullshit had happened that Eren really couldn’t bring himself to even enjoy that moment - WHICH CRUSHES MY SOUL *wheeze* SOMEONE GIVE THIS POOR BOY A HUG-

Buuuut this is about season 4, so we’ll continue with that. Honestly, really wasn’t a big fan of the first chunk of season 4. I was thinking about how much I really couldn’t care less about Marley and all their stupid, ass-hattish bullshit that they put my poor babies through - WE DIDN’T NEED TO LOSE PETRA OR ERWIN BECAUSE MARLEY HAS A GRUDGE AGAINST ELDIANS ALRIGHT YOU GUYS SUCK - so when they came at me with all this fucking bratty Eldian-raised-Marlian crap, I was NOT happy about it. Not a fan of Gabi, didn’t care about the other kids either, really, and I especially wasn’t a fan of the other titans (which...slowly changed, in some ways). It just all had such a bitter taste in my mouth after everything that happened in the previous seasons. Though I admit they did a good job of making me soft for characters I didn’t care for, like I feel terrible for how oppressed the Eldians in Marley are and I get that they don’t have a choice in most of it but it was just a weird place for me. Falco is really a saving grace character in that arc for me.

Also 1000% knew it was Eren as soon as he spoke / appeared. I really was thinking the whole time that he was there on a mission from the Scouts and he kept saying things about his family and I was like oh shit they done infiltrated, they ‘bout to get wrecked. And when shit hit the fan and everything started devolving I had to say - and God I am definitely not proud of it - but like this is how it felt to them in Shiganshina? But simultaneously I felt like a trash can because it just wasn’t like Eren to go so wholeheartedly ape-shit on innocents. (Again, it was a weird time for me - but I guess that was the point x.x) Something felt really weird about the whole thing.

AND BOY WAS I RIGHT BECAUSE WHEN LEVI KICKED HIM RIGHT IN THE HEAD I ALMOST SCREAMED - talk about a blindside? I wasn’t expecting him to have gone completely AWOL and start acting on his own!

Won’t lie though... >.>

THIS MAN CAN KICK ME AROUND ANY DAY MY GOD I LOVE LEVI-

AND FUCKING SASHA DUDE IMMEDIATELY CEMEMNTED MY ANNOYANCE AND HATRED FOR GABI - WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY FUELING MY LOVE FOR FALCO BECAUSE HE FUCKING GETS IT, VIOLENCE IS NOT THE KEY

She deserved better, and I will never recover from her death. *Scout Salute*

ALSE WHAT THE SEVEN HELLS IS GOING ON IN ZEKE’S HEAD, SLKDOIRJFEORIJ I WAS SCREAMING OMFG

Anyway, lets fast forward to the last three episodes or I’ll talk for hours and hours. When Eren just straight up showed up in the room with Mikasa and Armin and Gabi in the third to last episode I was like:

BECAUSE FIRST OF ALL HE LOOKING DAMN FINE

SIR DO NOT LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT, THAT’S LEVI’S JOB.

Second, WHERE DID YOU EVEN COME FROM- AND WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE!

And here is when I really started spiraling because I was like no its gonna be fine because he’s finally going to get to explain himself and tell Armin, HIS BEST FRIEND, and Mikasa, HIS LITERAL PROTECTOR WAIFU LOVER, why he’s going nuts and acting like a sociopath, and everything’s going to be fine and it’s all going to make sense, and his reasoning will be sound and he and Zeke are actually going to help the Eldians take down Marley and save all the Eldians that are stuck in internment-

BUT OH NO THAT ISN’T WHAT THE HELL WE GET. INSTEAD WE GET PAIN. AND SORROW. AND DEPRESSION. AND MY FUCKING HEART LITERALLY BROKE IN HALF-

MY WHOLE FUCKING HEART ABSOLUTELY SHATTERED BECAUSE THIS HAS BEEN MY OTP FOR THIS WHOLE ASS ANIME AND I CANNOT FUNCTION IN A WORLD IN WHICH EREN TRULY HATES MIKASA

AND IF THIS WASN’T BAD ENOUGH THE FUCKING LAST TIME I SEE LEVI, MY HUSBAND, IS GETTING BLOWN TO BITS- *SCREAMS*

THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE, EVERYTHING IS UNACCEPTABLE!

There are only a few things in this world I cannot handle. Losing my favorite character in a horrible way - I still have hope that Levi is okay, though, he’s an Ackerman after all and I’m fairly certain he’ll survive...I hope so anyway or it’ll be one less reason to finish this anime x_x

Another is taking one of my favorite characters and TURNING THEM AGAINST THE PROTAGS - ESPECIALLY IF IT IS A PROTAG THAT IS BEING TURNED AND TWISTED AGAINST THOSE WHO WERE ONCE HIS/HER FAMILY AND FRIENDS-

HOW CAN YOU HAVE A WHOLESOME ANIME OPENING WITH THEIR CHILDHOOD FRIENDSHIP AND ALL THIS BEAUTIFUL BUILD UP AND THEN FUCKING WRECK ME WITH THAT BULLSHIT IN EPISODE 73 YOU SADISTS-

And so, as a coping method, I have invented a theory :’) Because that is how I must cope for the next two months. You manga readers keep quiet and let me dream, by the way! No confirmation or declines on here! ;P

*jumps into the rabbit hole*

So, Eren, whilst he was living among the Marlians, continuously kept mentioning his family and how he doesn’t think he can face them anymore, and yada yada. And despite everything, the scouts showed up and they were there for him even though they didn’t think it wise. He also made a great point while he was being held captive that at any point, he could break out but he didn’t - very well could have been because he was waiting for the right time, but again, I can hope that he really didn’t want to hurt anyone.

Which leads me to the fact that he HASN’T hurt anyone, not anyone he considered family, friends, or allies - not physically anyway :’) - He very easily could have slaughtered them all and after gaining the support of all the Military he really doesn’t have much standing in his way. So he still cares?

Something else that really, really rubs me the wrong way about this whole thing is how much most of this goes against what Eren believed for so long. Like why the seven hells would Eren want to just slaughter the entire Eldian internment district? Bro, those are your peeps being held captive, they aren’t your enemies! I understand the Marlians, definitely understand that, but the Eldians who’ve done nothing but be oppressed for the last century or so?

Definitely not Eren’s style. And his conversation with Reiner sort of proves that. He talks about how he and Reiner are the same. We see a certain amount of humanity in Eren here, in the beginning of the season while he’s in Marley and that humanity seems near nonexistent when he returns to Eldia/Pardis. It just makes me think that it’s for show even more. His wording is also interesting. “I’ll keep moving forward until I exterminate the enemy.” But what IS the enemy, who is it that he wants to exterminate? The wording conflicts with Zeke’s plan that he’s supposedly going along with because in basically sterilizing all Eldians, is he really “exterminating an enemy?” Just seems a little fishy to me.

On top of all of that, there’s the fact that he has literally done nothing up to this point to show any sort of hatred or resentment towards Mikasa. Nothing but kindness. Nothing but the same amount of devotion she has shown him, Ackerman instinct be damned. It CAN’T be as black and white as what was stated in that episode.

I’m thinking (and hoping and praying to every god in existence because I really just can’t imagine the end of this anime/manga without a redemption arc for Eren) that it’s all a farce, and that he’s acting the way he is because he actually disagrees with Zeke but the only way he can actually accomplish his real goal is to play into Zeke’s hand. It seems so seriously impossible - improbable and frankly unbelievable - that the two people who he loved and cared for most in the whole world mean nothing to him anymore. I think he’s trying to martyr himself. I think that Eren is trying to make himself the villain so that when he inevitably dies (really hope not but I don’t see this ending any other way T.T) the world will see Eldians as a people who overthrew the king and wish for nothing more than peace in the wake of a tyrant.

Honestly, that theory hurts my heart, too, but I really just want to see the good in people. Maybe it makes me naïve. But I have to see the good in people, even fictional people, or I feel like there is no hope.

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pengy-pop · 4 years ago

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Unfinished Writing #1: Bederia

Context for this piece was to be mostly a headcanon romp and to show of what the dynamic of my own interpretation of adult years Bederia would be like. It got to be too long and had not much happening in it, and When I realised I didn’t know exactly where I wanted to go with it; I got unfortunately bored of it rather quickly.

But, I hope you’re maybe able to find something interesting in here, anyway!

enjoy!

Gloria was having a bad day.

It started the moment she woke up that morning to find that her boltund had gotten into her pokefood supplies at some point during the night and, after gorging themselves on around a quarter of the giant bag of food meant to feed six pokemon for 5 weeks; had then proceeded to regurgitate it all up in her bathroom and was forced to clean it up and make sure the criminal boltund was alright at around six o’clock in the morning. She dropped her shower head on her foot while taking her morning shower and slipped and fell on the tiles while picking it up, and she knew she was going to be seeing a nasty bruise somewhere on her body later because of it.

Then, as she was preparing her breakfast; she found out the weather forcasted for rain and thunderstorms; on the day she was supposed to be meeting up with her friends for a long-awaited lunch they’d been planning at one of their regular spots. She accidentally burnt her toast while thinking about it, and dropped an egg on the floor while she was trying to cook two.

Then, she had gotten the call from Hop.

“Uh, so, me and Marnie won’t be able to make it to lunch today.” Hop’s voice was hesitant, fast, and apologetic; and Gloria swallowed thickly as she heard loud noises in the background of the call.

“How come? Did something happen?” There was a stern female voice in the background, followed by a loud crash, and Gloria winced.

Morpeko must be having another outburst.

“Yeahhh, you could say that, mate. Just-uh-I’m really sorry, Gloria, If we can get this solved quickly I can-”

“No, no, it’s okay! It sounds like theres a lot happening there. Did you two…Need any extra help?” She chewed her bottom lip, anxiously. Hop’s answer was immediate.

“No! No, it’s alright! You just go on ahead without us! Tell, uh—Tell Bede we said hey; and—oh, right—ask him if he’s planning on RSVP’ing anytime soon, we need to finalise our numbers.” Gloria nodded, before realising Hop wouldn’t be able to see her answer.

“Sure; and you’re absolutely sure you guys don’t need any help?” A hiss was heard.

“Positive, Gloria. Besides, you know how annoying Bede gets when plans change suddenly. I gotta go, but i’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright, good luck calming Morpeko.” Hop snorted on the other line, and she could practically hear the grin in his voice.

“Thanks, mate! Catch you later! Sorry again!” As soon as he hung up; Gloria felt her stomach twist with a sick emotion she’d found herself becoming all-too-familiar with lately, and, with a defeated sigh, she collapsed back onto her couch, mindlessely flicking on the tv for white noise.

Gloria prayed that the rest of her day wasn’t as awful as her morning was.

—————————

The rest of the day wasn’t much better.

After later sending Bede a message of the change of plans; she stepped in a large puddle almost as soon as she exited her apartment complex, splashing water over herself, leaving her legs cold and wet as she made her way to the cafe. She shook off her umbrella, stepping inside, and was greeted by a waiter and an indeedee; who escorted her to a booth seat after she gave them her reservation name.

A booth meant to fit four people.

With a heavy sigh, Gloria all but collapsed down onto the seat, letting her head fall back against the cushioned seat. As she turned her head to look out to the rainy street, unsurprisingly bustling despite the rain. While normally Gloria would be eager to see her friends, she was, instead, thankful that Bede wasn’t there yet.

It wasn’t because she hated Bede though, or anything of the sort, really. In fact; her problem wasn’t that she wanted to be away from him; it was that whenever she was around him, she wanted him alarmingly close. It was something she could handle if they were surrounded by others, usually; since there were others to distract her; but when it was just the two of them, alone, it became much more troublesome. She’d become hyper-aware of his presence at all times, any time he’d look her in the eyes or say her name she would find herself heating up, stomach would fill with butterflies, her fingers would twitch and frequently find she wanted to shove herself into his personal space. Wanted to grab his face in her hands and Do something.

She wasn’t sure what, exactly, she would even do, though. Pinch his cheeks, maybe? contort his mouth into an awkward smile like she used to do when they were kids?

….Kiss him?

Gloria exhaled, closing her eyes. There had come a certain point in Gloria’s life where she had to admit to herself that, yes, she did have a crush on Bede. It had just hit her one day, when they were talking together during a camping trip with Hop and Marnie. the latter were off cooking while her and Bede had sat together, playing with their pokemon and idly debating over something. It was a little heated, sure, but most of their conversations were; and they were having fun, nonetheless. Mid-debate; Gloria’s boltund had bounded up to Bede with a happy huff and plopped themselves down right on his lap, bringing a pause to their conversation as Bede looked down at the dog, then Gloria, with an expression halfway between bewildermant and offense. She had laughed, and he had let out an indignant huff; before he relaxed and, surprising her, he reached down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. And she wasn’t sure what exactly it was; but all to quickly, her world had come crashing down on top of her and all that was left in her brain as she watched her boltund melt into Bede’s touch and he, in turn, let out a sound; a gentle, amused sigh; his face soft in a way she’d only ever seen a few rare times; was four words.

“Oh. I like him.”

And; well, really, it had all just been downhill from there for Gloria. Her fondness for him only grew; and Slowly, over the years, he’d been letting her in more and more, letting her see far beyond what was on the surface.

She found him endearing; despite everything. Deeply flawed, but endearing nonetheless. However, she wasn’t sure where to even begin when it came to approaching Bede about the subject. He had never expressed much desire or interest in pursuing any sort of romantic relationship. At least, none that she herself had ever seen. And Bede was, to put it simply, a very private and closed-off person, and much like a stray cat; one wrong move and he’d be spooked off; potentially forever; and that was the last thing she wanted to happen.

But, oh did she want to love him so badly. There was so much she wanted. She wanted to talk and laugh with Bede, hold his hand in hers; hug him and not be shoved unceremoniously off him, she wanted to kiss him all over his face and instead of him grimacing, she wanted him to smile and kiss her back. She’d like to spend the night with him, eating dinner with him, having those conversations with him that always somehow seemed to devolve into semi-heated debates because their differing ideas until they both inevitably passed out together.

Gloria was so deep in her pining for Bede that it was frustrating her now; because as much as she just wanted to blurt out how she felt, she knew that it would lead to nothing good. She’d always made the mistake of running her mouth; hell, she STILL frequently made that mistake, but this was the one thing she wasn’t completely willing to let fall apart in front of her. No, she’d come too far with Bede at this point and she outright refused to lose his friendship. So for once in her life; she would bite down on her tongue.

Because she’s not quite sure she could handle losing Bede from her life; no matter how frustrating it was for her to swallow how much she felt for him.

There was a noise, and she felt something on her shoulder, shaking her. Gloria eyes snapped open, her vision blurry for a few moments as they readjusted to the light flooding in again as she looked around, confused.

How long had she been zoning out? Had she fallen asleep?

“Ah, there you are. Rather unwise of you to fall asleep in a public place like this, Gloria.” Gloria’s eyes fell on Bede, standing beside her booth, shiny spritzee hovering around him out of the corner of her eye as she caught the last moments of him removing his hand from her shoulder, and she stared dumbly up at him for a few seconds.

Oh. Bede was here now.

“You’re here.” Bede scoffed, shaking his head as he took his seat across from her in the booth.

“Astute observation.” His eyes fell on her for a brief moment as he reached for the menu that sat in front of him. “I apologise for my being tardy. the weather caused some delays.”

“You were late?” She scrambled for her rotom phone; and, sure enough, he was about fifteen minutes late. “Oh. It’s okay. I didn’t even notice.”

“Of course you didn’t; you were passed out. I doubt you even received my message.” Gloria switched to her messaging app. Oh. He had left her a message earlier, stating that he may be arriving late.

“Ah. Oops.” Bede hummed non-committedly in return, looking over the menu; his left hand over his mouth in that stupidly endearing thoughtful pose of his.

“I take you haven’t even ordered yet?” Gloria realised she hadn’t even picked up the menu herself yet, and she fumbled to do so, her face feeling familarly warm and her palms beginning to sweat.

“Nope. Was waiting for you.” It didn’t take her long to decide on what she wanted; and Bede didn’t respond; so she instead took that time to look at Bede across from her as his focus lay on his own menu.

There was something different…

She squinted, leaning forward a bit. There was definitely something different about him. Bede took notice of her expression, lilac eyes flicking up to her, confusion knitted his features.

“What on earth are you staring at—”

“—Did you get a haircut?” Bede’s eyes widened a little, and Gloria knew she’d hit the nail on the head. She leaned back again into her chair, smiling. Truthfully, it wasn’t a big change. She had just noticed that he had gotten his curls trimmed a little on the nape of his neck. But it looked nice on him, regardless.

“I…yes, I did, actually.” His eyes flicked away from her, and Gloria’s smile grew wider. “I’m rather surprised you noticed, actually. You’re the first one to do so today.”

“‘Course I noticed! Looks good; looks handsome!” Bede’s face snapped immediately snapped back to look at hers, his eyes wide and shocked; and Gloria would have slapped herself right then if she could have.

“—For, uh, you know! It’s—uh, appropriate! Like—like Ballonlea’s gym leader ‘ought look good, right? Opal always used to say presentation was important, yeah?” She fumbled through her words, and she could feel the eyes of both Bede and his spritzee on her. His Spritzee, in particular, hovered over her, her bright yellow eyes staring straight through her. “I…I just think you look…nice…” Her words peetered out pathetically as she sunk a little into her seat. Bede’s gaze upon her was incredulous; and she would have normally delighted in the way his pale cheeks were flushed red if she wasn’t so embarrassed herself. After what felt like a century; Bede finally looked away from her, clearing his throat awkawrdly.

“…Right. Well; shall we order?” Gloria nodded fervently as she lifted her hand to hail down a waiter. As the two ordered their food and drinks, Bede went off on a tangent about his most recent auditions at Ballonlea, and Gloria sat and listened to his every haughty, smug word, thankful that he hadn’t chosen to comment further on her earlier stumble.

———————

It was halfway through her meal, and after she’d taken a much-too-large bite of her sandwich, that Gloria remembered what Hop had asked of her that morning. Her cheeks too stuffed to say anything, Gloria instead waved her hand in front of Bede’s face to get his attention.

“Mmf—Hey, Bede—”

“Chew and swallow before speaking, Gloria; you’re not a toddler.” He scrunched up his nose in that cute way he always did as he looked at her with mild disgust. Gloria rolled her eyes; but did take a moment longer to actually chew and swallow her mouthful. With and exhale, she quickly took a gulp of her drink, ignoring the sigh of disappointment that Bede, and finally turned back up to look at him again.

“Hop wanted to know if you were gonna RSVP for the wedding or not.” The mention of the wedding caused Bede to tense, and he carefully put down his utensils.

“I…Haven’t yet made a decision.”

“Why not? S’not like you’re the one getting married.”

“Yes, but Gloria what you don’t understand is that I do not particularly want to attend their wedding.”

“Why? They’re our friends; we should be there on their big day.” Bede opened his mouth to say something, but Gloria continued. “—And they ARE both of our friends, we are PAST trying to deny this.” Bede closed his mouth again with a sigh. “—So theres really no reason for you to have put it off for so long.”

#Pengy Squawks #Pengy Writes #Bederia #dressedinpinkshipping #unfinished works

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satendou · 4 years ago

Note

OKAY OKAY OKAY I KNOW THIS IS SOOOO CLICHE BUT LIKE 😠😠😠 im such a SUCKER for relationships with a deep understanding for e/o and a poly relationship w bokuaka would be just THAT.... like im so INVESTED also omg talk abt ur fav poly pairings bc ive read thru ur entire poly tag and im in love 😞😞😞 suddenly i do want to be in a poly relationship w the hq boys (i am also a rarepair kinda girl so seeing u write about them as poly pairings make my heart go 💗💗💗💗 i luv it so much thank u for ur service)

you saying i have a deep understanding of e/o: what is e/o?

hrnnnngd wjeheveve i loved reading this i was so tempted to just hoard it 🥺

uhhhhh my favorite poly pairings are probably iwaoi, akiwa (iwaka? iwakaashi? anyway i get da point), kuraka, daikuro (daishou not daichi sorry), and whatever the hell the ship name is for semi/shirabu.

iwaoi should be obvious like,,,they have such a strong bond already that it feels like one of the most natural pairings. i don’t have to fight to see how they might interact. i always imagine oikawa acting like a little gremlin just to rile iwa up, and iwa is SO obvious about his feelings for oiks bc he’ll start stumbling over his “shittykawa” insults in fear that oikawa will ✨suddenly✨ be hurt by them.

iwa: i don’t wanna be obvious about it

you mattsun and makki, in the bg, watching him stutter through a painful number of insults for oikawa: sure jan

oikawa, pretending to be oblivious: what was that iwa-chan?

kuraka isn’t quite as fluid to me as boaka would be but i just know that akaashi and kuroo would be the cheekiest, sweetest, dorkiest idiots in a relationship. kuroo enjoys inconveniencing you to the nth degree, and akaashi will sit back and watch it happen. akaashi is a good cook (you can’t change my mind) and makes sure you’re eating correctly, but will get kuroo back for shenanigans by telling him he doesn’t get to eat. also: puns. that’s all.

one of my rarepairs is probably more like a “uniquepair” but whatever. iwakaashi just slammed me in the head with a mallet one day and took hold. akaashi takes a LOT of pride in flustering iwa, but iwa doesn’t realize how easily he flusters akaashi in return, bc he’s too busy being flustered. iwa has an obsession with akaashi’s hands (don’t we all), and akaashi always loses his ability to think when iwa wanders in shirtless (i’m losing my ability to think just thinking about it oop). anyway, the relationship with them isn’t as loud as it would be with kuroo or oiks, but akaashi flourishes by being the trickster in the relationship. in the other i always see him as the more level head just bc kuroo is a bigger goofball.

uhhhh kurodai (daikuroo?) is just,,,like iwakaashi it knocked me out one day. that fuckin relationship is chaotic af. i hate to say it but they probably argue a lot. it always starts out joking, but can and will come down to a “why do you always do this” type of fight. like,,,they don’t find it hard to agree on things specifically but each of them has their own opinion and both want to do it, so neither of them want to back down. so they often devolve into petty arguments bc “nothing they suggest or do is ever right”. theirs is probably the most unstable relationship to me, but they just have to go and learn from a sort of friendship to a relationship. they’ll figure it out and then you’ll have your hands full. sarcasm, stupid puns, romantic surprises all the time. they almost burn the house down once trying to recreate the dish you had on your first date with them at home. charcoal a la city water: yum.

semirabu, shiremi, uhhhh shiremabu idfk they all sound terrible ANYWAY. semi is pretty laid back compared to shirabu, and usually just lets shirabu have his way (within reason of course) bc usually he’s right. shirabu has to learn to curb some of his more acerbic attitude at the beginning of the relationship, bc before where he’d just speak his mind, he now needs tact and boy lemme tell you, he doesn’t have that. another one that’s kinda unstable at the beginning bc shirabu has never had a serious relationship before, so he’s unsure of himself and that makes him even more uneasy, which makes him prone to lashing out more. you and semi need to be patient with him but don’t let him walk all over you either. he figures it out eventually.

this got so long sorry 💀 i just,,,love talking about them man. i don’t think most people like polyships lmao.

#i talked a lot of about the ships themselves but that’s just bc #i always talk about how they’d interact with you #and i rarely talk about the characters interactions with each other #but i love them too so #🌺.iwaoi #🌺.kuraka #🌺.iwakaashi #🌺.daikuro #🌺.shiremabu #just fuckin bc #👻.answers

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megabadbunny · 4 years ago

Text

In Lovers’ Meeting (5/?)

“Yeah, about that,” said the Doctor, his nose scrunching up in thought. “Did I mention I’m having something of an identity crisis today?”

A rewrite; dedicated to the absolutely wonderful @davinasgirlfriend . <3

* * *

- Chapter 5 -

Wrung out from crying until her tears ran dry and only choking sobs remained, Rose didn’t hear the soft thump-thump-thumping overhead until perhaps the third thump or so.

Bleary-eyed, Rose pushed back from the mattress, glancing up hopefully—was it her mum somehow, was it Jackie trying to communicate with her? Had the Doctor returned?—but her mother hadn’t moved, and there was no Doctor to be seen. Instead, Rose’s eyes traveled upward until she saw a black-tipped finger pressed to the glass of the observation window, tapping weakly. Rose followed the line of the finger down to the arm, to the body, up to the neck and the head, where a pale face stared at her from the hospital bed, past cables and cords and an oxygen-mask.

Sniffling, Rose scrubbed the heel of her palm across her face, wiping the tears away. “Sorry, mate,” she mumbled. “You’re probably trying to rest, aren’t you? I’ll keep the noise down.”

The patient shook his head, slowly. He tapped the window again.

Rose frowned. “Is something wrong?” she asked. “D’you need something? Should I go get Saito?”

Another slow shake of the head, and Rose watched as the patient’s arm moved, his finger pointing. Rose followed the line of sight over her shoulder to see cabinets, a counter, a sink, a faucet...

A faucet, dripping water. Ah.

“Sure, no problem,” she said, hastily dragging her jacket-sleeve across her face to break up the itchy-dry layer of tears and makeup that had crusted on her cheeks. God, she probably looked a mess. “Gotta be pretty thirsty, yeah? Let’s get you a glass or something.”

It was difficult to tell with the mask over his face, but Rose thought she saw the patient smiling a little bit. Flashing him a watery grin of her own, Rose pocketed her forgotten sandwich and turned to search the cabinets, to see if they had any paper cups or anything she could use. “Be over in a tic,” she called to the other room. “Just got to get a cup or something, and a mask, too. Okay?”

The patient didn’t reply, but that was all right; despite how deeply bone-tired she was, it was honestly a little bit of a relief for Rose to give her restless hands something to do, and it was a huge relief that the patient, while in tenuous condition, was still alive. That gave Rose hope for her mum. Gave her a lot of hope.

Busy searching the cabinets, she didn’t notice the flatline crawling across a screen in the other room.

***

Miranda’s body watched him, waiting. Expectant.

The Doctor slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he mostly meant it. “I can’t help you.”

Its eyelids fluttered in time with the lights flickering overhead. “Can’t help?” Miranda’s body asked, its voice dropping a register. “Or won’t?”

“The semantics of it are hardly relevant at this juncture, but honestly, it’s a mixture of both,” the Doctor replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Even if I wanted to help you get back home—and that’s a big if, considering that I’m not generally inclined to help murderers get what they want (and yes, in this case the semantics are relevant, because regardless of your motivations, you are, in fact, a bunch of murderers), but anyway—even if I wanted to help, I couldn’t. The holes between realities are sealed once again. There’s no way back.”

“Liar,” the body growled.

“Afraid not. Not this time.”

“But the box—”

“The TARDIS is gone,” the Doctor replied curtly. “Believe me, I’m not all that pleased about it, either.”

“Liar!” Its face crumpled into an ugly grimace as it pointed an inkstained hand at the Doctor. “We smell it, we smell the magic on you!”

The Doctor’s hand closed around the lump of coral in his pocket. “I’m telling you, I can’t get you across the Void again, magic box or not. But I’m sure we can work something else out.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, now! It can’t all be death and destruction and chaos. There’s got to be another way. There always is, if you look hard enough.”

“No,” the corpse spat. “Home, or your friends die. There is no other way. No other way. None.”

“Good grief, you’re hopeless!” the Doctor said, pacing in exasperation. “No other way. What utter nonsense! How did you survive when you first arrived here, eh? You didn’t just start snapping up bodies first thing, did you? There must have been some kind of transitional period, some way you survived before you started hijacking human bodies.”

“Hardly anything left,” Miranda’s body told him. “What little survived, lived in the dark, and the damp. In warmth, and the cracks and depths of things.”

“Sounds delightful. Why didn’t you just stay put? Why’d you get the humans involved?”

“Burned,” said the corpse, twitching with the memory of it. “Suffocated. Had to flee.” It shivered, lips twitching. “Even now, it hurts us, scorching, eating away. Had to run.”

It fixed its oily-black gaze on the Doctor. “Still running.”

Rose adjusted her mask one last time and pulled on a pair of medical gloves with a satisfying smack before sliding into the other room with a cupful of water and a heavy sigh. Whatever the Doctor was working on, she hoped he’d figure out everything soon, not just for the sake of her mum and the others, but because Rose was starting to feel like she might drop the floor at any moment.

She was so, so tired.

“There you go, mate,” Rose said gently, steadying the patient’s trembling hand as he slipped up his oxygen mask to sip from the cup. “I know they’ve got you hooked into fluids and things, but I bet you’re still parched. And nothing beats a cold glass of water, yeah?”

Wordlessly, the patient nodded, glassy black eyes fixed on Rose.

“So I don’t think we’ve met before,” she said after he was done drinking, because the silence in the room was—well, she couldn’t quite put a word to the wrongness of it. It felt almost oppressive, somehow. “Are you new to UNIT?” she asked.

The patient nodded again.

“Well, this is a hell of a new job orientation, isn’t it?” said Rose, smiling wanly. “Sorry your welcome committee’s so rotten. We don’t normally chuck newbies straight into killer alien territory. We usually try to wait a reasonable amount of time. Like at least three weeks.”

With a jerk, the patient chuckled, his chuckle devolving immediately into a cough. Rose winced on his behalf, moved to help fit the oxygen mask back in place over his nose and mouth. But the patient feebly pushed her hands away, opening his mouth to speak. Only a ragged whisper emerged.

“Come again?” asked Rose.

“Jared,” the patient rasped through fluid-filled lungs. “Name. Yours?”

“Agent—I mean, Rose,” said Rose, internally kicking herself. “Rose Tyler.”

She held out her hand for Jared to shake, and he took it. Rose forced herself not to wince at the weakness of his grip or the heat of his skin, burning even through the medical glove. “Nice to meet you, Jared.”

“Mother?” asked Jared, tilting his head toward Jackie in the other room.

Sighing, Rose nodded, watching her mum through the window. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “That’s my mum. She’s in the same state you are. Well, sort of. I mean, she’s still—you know. She—”

“Looks much better?” Jared coughed.

“I was going to say something at least a little more tactful than that,” Rose replied, and Jared laughed again, stifling a cough against his hand. Rose handed him the water cup again and he sipped at it, his face pinched in pain.

“You sure you don’t need me to go get Saito?” Rose asked, and held up the oxygen-mask, ready to slide it back into place.

Jared shook his head and pushed the mask away. “Just wanted water. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Rose replied, yawning.

“Tired?” asked Jared.

“You’ve got no idea.” Rose frowned. “Or maybe you do. I think you’re a little worse off than me, at the mo.”

“A little bit,” Jared chuckled, his chuckles subsiding back into a horrid, violent cough. Concerned, Rose reached for his oxygen-mask again, but he slapped her hands away—forcefully, this time.

“No,” Jared rasped. “No more.”

Rose frowned. “Are you sure you don’t—”

“No more.”

“But you need oxygen, Saito said—”

“No,” snapped Jared. “We don’t want it!”

Rose’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Jared’s sudden sharpness discomfited her, set alarm bells ringing vaguely at the back of her head, distressingly loud in the quiet room. But she couldn’t quite put a finger on it, couldn’t quite place what felt so wrong.

(Of course it made sense, Rose tried to reason through the exhaustion-fog clouding her head, that Jared might be angry or irritable—she could only imagine how angry she would be, if an unknown killer contagion was slowly eating her from the inside out. But that didn’t explain why he would turn down medical treatment, though—and why wasn’t Saito anywhere to be seen? And why was it so bloody quiet in there?)

Eyes flickering round the room, Rose’s gaze landed on the monitors next to Jared’s bed. Several of the cables sat dangling, unplugged from the wall, rendered mute and useless for the purpose of monitoring Jared’s vitals. But maybe Jared had just grown tired of the incessant beeps and chimes, Rose tried to reason to herself. That seemed understandable enough.

Either that, Rose thought with a mounting sense of dread, or Jared simply didn’t want anyone to monitor his vital signs.

Now the alarms ringing in her head were positively screeching.

“Sure thing,” Rose replied, forcing an easy and casual smile on her face as she set down the cup and backed away, slowly, under Jared’s wide-eyed and glassy glare. “I’ll just leave you to it, shall I…?”

She turned to open the door, then paused, her exhausted brain working overtime to catch up.

“Hang on,” she said. “Did you say we just now?”

A glance over at Jared revealed a slow smile crawling across charcoal-black teeth.

“Oops,” he said, softly.

“Yes, but what burned, what suffocated?” the Doctor demanded. “What’s eating away at you? None of this makes any sense—it’s like you’re talking about something huge, huge but somehow invisible, just these massive environmental changes forcing you to evacuate, but then why hasn’t anyone else noticed it? I looked over the reports and nothing’s changed in UNIT headquarters in the last twenty-four hours, nothing except—”

He stopped pacing. Except for reports of fresh paint, he remembered. Fresh paint, because of the—

“Mold,” he said slowly, disbelieving.

He turned to face Miranda’s body again, mind racing furiously with the realization, and it was like water rushing into a canyon, filling in the gaps of the story.

“You’re mold,” the Doctor said, louder now.

The corpse did not respond.

“That’s got to be it, hasn’t it?” asked the Doctor, growing more excited by the second. “It said in the reports, this building got a sudden case of mold. Black mold! And they tried to get rid of it, they must have done—and the chemicals they’d use, those would burn, and then the caretakers would paint over the stain—of course!” the Doctor shouted, hands running through his hair as his thoughts raced wildly inside. “Of course, you’d try to escape the burn of the bleach and the suffocation of the paint, but where else would you think to go, where else would suit you, what else is warm and cozy and damp and made up of oh-so-much water? Well, the human body’s just a perfect candidate, isn’t it? And it makes total sense, if you think about it—so many of the symptoms correlate with mold-related conditions like histoplasmosis or aspergillosis! Cos naturally, if you want to transform your human host into a forever-home, not just one you occupy telepathically, but one you inhabit physically, one you live in, you’ve got to make some significant changes to the chemical makeup, haven’t you? Changes that make a human body compatible with sentient mold!”

The Doctor whooped out loud, quite pleased with himself. “Ha! Telepathic killer mold from outer space—now that’s a new one, even for me! New new Doctor, indeed!”

“Now you know our secret. So help us,” Miranda’s body hissed, stalking toward the Doctor. “You must. This is what you do. This is who you are.”

“Yeah, about that,” said the Doctor, his nose scrunching up in thought. “Did I mention I’m having something of an identity crisis today?”

Grinning like the madman he was, the Doctor turned on his heel and sprinted away.

Behind him, Miranda opened her mouth wide and screamed.

Jared’s face twisted in a snarl as he sprang up from the bed, shrieking out an ear-splitting screech. But his lips and tongue didn’t move and it wasn’t Jared’s voice anymore, it wasn’t any one voice at all, it had to be a dozen at least, all of them screeching as one. The scream rose and wailed like a siren or some kind of shrill-roaring monster, rattling the hospital instruments and vibrating the glass in the observation window and striking like a dentist’s drill to the teeth. Eyes watering in pain, hands clamped instinctively over her ears, Rose doubled over, crying out against the scream.

Betrayal, Miranda’s body silently told its brethren as it shrieked, its call echoing in the halls with a sound like metal screaming against metal or the piercing howl of the winds in a tornado. Betrayal. Liar. Deceit.

Vengeance? came the reply, many voices clamoring as one. Stalk? Take? Kill?

Kill the mother. Kill the child, Miranda’s body demanded.

Take them all.

“New rules,” Rose heard Jared hiss over the ringing in her ears.

Rose dove for the door handle but there was a flurry of sound and movement behind her and suddenly a black-fingered hand cut an arc through her field of vision, Jared’s arm lunging from behind to loop around her neck in a chokehold. Without looking, without thinking, Rose grabbed Jared’s wrist and bicep and dropped to the floor, yanking him over her shoulder and flinging him down in front of her with a mighty thwack. Leaping over Jared’s body, Rose wrenched open the door and slammed it shut behind her, swiping the psychic paper over the cardreader to override the controls and lock Jared inside.

Through the observation window, she watched Jared as he rolled over and slowly rose from the floor, tapping a blackened fingertip against the glass of the observation window. It was good stuff, thick and embedded with wire—Jared was hardly the first hostile being UNIT had had the pleasure of hosting in its medbay, after all—and there was no way he’d be able to break through. He seemed to realize the same thing rather quickly, his gaze traveling from the wire in the window down to Rose.

Rose wondered if she’d ever felt such a piercing hateful glare. She shuddered.

“Tricky,” Jared spat out along with a mouthful of black blood. Or his body did, anyway; Rose was fairly certain Jared wasn’t in there anymore. “Not enough to save you, though.”

Lights flickered overhead and something buzzed in Rose’s ears. She ignored it. “I like my odds,” she told Jared’s body.

Jared’s eyes flashed. “You shouldn’t.”

“Who are you?” Rose asked. “Cos it’s pretty clear you’re not Jared anymore. So who are you? And why are you doing all of this? What do you want?”

“What does anyone or anything want? In this whole wide universe? More than anything else?”

“Hard liquor and a long nap?” Rose suggested drily.

“Life,” Jared’s body hissed. “To live. To survive. To thrive. No matter the cost.”

“But that cost is us, isn’t it?” asked Rose, glancing down at Jackie, still prone and unconscious on her cot. “The people here. Our bodies, our lives.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The Jared-thing shook its head wordlessly.

“You’re hurting my mother,” said Rose, her voice hard. “Killing her.”

“Yes,” Jared’s body replied, flecks of its oil-spill spit peppering the window between them. “We seek, we listen, we hear. We follow the song. If the song invites us, if a door is opened, who are we to refuse?”

“You can always say no,” Rose shot back.

“We cannot,” said Jared’s body, and Rose could have sworn she saw something sad in its deep black eyes. “We hollow, we inhabit, or we perish. Die screaming. All of us. Each and every one. Fathers and mothers and children alike. All of us, dead.”

Sympathy welled up in Rose’s chest. Shaking her head, she stepped away from the window. “I’m sorry about that. I really am. But you can’t just kill people.”

Jared’s body cocked its head in an approximation of thoughtfulness. “Can’t we, though?”

Then, leaning forward, it whispered, “Haven’t you?”

Rose didn’t flinch. “I’m not gonna let you take my mum,” she said firmly. “And I’m not gonna let you hurt anyone else.”

A humorless smile stretched Jared’s lips thin. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Anyone else—like your magic-friend, you mean? Or your leaders, or your healer? Better hurry, if you want to help them.”

“Why?” Rose asked, dread growing cold in the pit of her stomach.

“Better hurry,” growled Jared’s body. “Better run.”

Mind racing, heart hammering in her throat, Rose turned and sprinted away.

“Run!” Jared’s body shrieked after her, its voice rising and screeching and ricocheting off the walls around them as its fists pounded against the window. “Run! Run! Run!”

Sprinting back down the stairs, back through the hall, the Doctor skidded to a stop outside the cafeteria—doors shut and blocked, he couldn’t see anything, though he could hear the shouts and sounds of a fight emanating from inside, but it sounded like the security team was holding their own, for the moment at least—and, casting wildly about, the Doctor searched the scattered items littering the floor, dropping to his hands and knees to better rifle through the mess until he found what he needed. Upended cart, rolls of paper goods, dust rags, rubbish bin liners, toolbox, air fresheners, spray cleaners, come on come on come on come on—

“Ha! Gotcha!” the Doctor shouted victoriously, grabbing his prize before he took off running again.

Run! Run! Run! rung in Rose’s mind, echoing over and over and over again in time with the rhythmic slap of her boots against the floor. She prayed to whatever god might be listening that the window would hold Jared back, keep Jackie. Because as much as Rose hated it, as much as she hated leaving her, as much as it made her hate herself, she knew there was nothing else she could do for her right now. She had to do what she could to save everyone else in the building, to stop Jared’s kind from harming anyone else.

She’d do whatever it took.

“Saito!” she shouted, her heart pulsing painfully in her throat. “Saito, I’m coming—just hold on—”

Rounding the corner, Rose’s run faltered and slowed into nothing as she saw the physician—unharmed by the looks of it, thank goodness—huddled in a group of wide-eyed and terrified UNIT employees. Saito’s arms were flung in front of everyone else, a last-ditch effort to protect them all from the pitch-covered corpse looming over them.

“Let them go!” Rose demanded, stepping closer.

The corpse slowly turned to look at her, and behind it, Saito shook her head, the motion sharp. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “Get out of here!”

“Let them go,” repeated Rose, stepping closer still. She drew in a shuddering breath. “Take me, instead.”

The corpse looked at her, tilting its head in thought. “A generous offer,” it rasped, “but why accept, when we could take you all?”

Rose’s mind raced for a response. “Except you can’t, can you? Or you already would have done.”

The corpse did not reply.

“What was that you said earlier?” Rose asked. “Cos that was you, wasn’t it? All of you corpses, talking through Jared? That’s why he kept saying We. Like We follow the song. But what did he mean by that, exactly?”

No response from the corpse, and Saito and the others were silent as well, watching, waiting. Tense and afraid.

“I mean, he clearly didn’t mean music. Not literally. But you are listening for something, aren’t you? You’re listening for a way in,” she reasoned aloud. “Something about opening doors, he said. So you can’t take any old human body and mind you want—something’s got to open the door. Something’s got to let you in, whether it knows it’s doing that, or not. Isn’t that right?”

Looking round at Saito, at everyone huddled behind her, Rose realized. “And most of us humans aren’t letting you in, are we?” she asked breathlessly.

“We only need time,” the corpse replied. “In time, all walls fall.”

“And is that time you can afford to spare, then?”

Once again, the corpse was silent. Seemed like as good a sign as any, Rose thought. Willing her hands not to shake, she peeled off first one glove, then the other.

“For god’s sake, what are you doing?“ asked Saito. Rose ignored her.

“If you let them go,” she said slowly, slipping off her mask, “if you let all these people right here go...”

She swallowed. “I’ll let you in.”

The corpse did not reply, merely watching her. Rose’s stomach churned uncomfortably beneath the scrutiny.

“Deal?” she asked.

After a few agonizing, seemingly endless moments, the corpse nodded.

Rose closed her eyes amidst the lights flickering overhead, breathing past the sounds of buzzing and her racing pulse thundering in her ears. The buzzing-sound filled her skull, reverberating louder and louder until her teeth were practically chattering from it, until the buzz became a drone became a disjointed symphony of mismatched voices, hissing and slithering and shouting and shrieking and demanding to be let in.

Swallowing hard, Rose thought of her mum, fighting for her life just a few rooms away. She hoped Jackie would understand. Jackie, and the Doctor.

She let her mask fall to the floor.

“What have I missed?” piped up a familiar voice, cutting through the noise. With a jolt, Rose’s eyes flew back open to see the Doctor standing at the door, a spray-bottle in hand, a manic grin on his face.

“Traveler,” hissed the corpse, turning toward the Doctor, hand reaching out.

“Or should I say,” the Doctor continued cheekily, eyes twinkling, “what have I mist?”

With that, he lifted the spray-bottle and sprayed the corpse in the face.

Inhuman screeching and a foul stench rent the air as the corpse fell to the ground, writhing and screaming and clawing at its ruined, melting face. Leaping back, Saito pushed the crowd with her, UNIT employees shielding their eyes, their mouths agape in terror. The Doctor continued to spray the body as it convulsed and shrieked in front of them. Thrashing violently, the corpse screamed one last time before it fell still, black fluid bubbling and frothing from its eyes and nose, its mouth and ears. Its face froze into a grotesque mask, features forever cemented in an openmouthed scream.

An uneasy hush fell over the room as everyone stared at the corpse. Several people pinched their noses against the stench.

Shaking all over, Saito stood, a hand clutched to her stomach. “What...” she tried to ask, her eyes glued to the corpse in horror. “How did you...? Is that bleach?”

”It is indeed,” replied the Doctor, spinning the spray-bottle in his hand, not unlike a cowboy with his pistol. Rose was half-surprised he didn’t pretend to blow smoke off the business end of it. “Industrial-strength. Best way to fight black mold.”

“Mold,” Saito repeated flatly.

“Yep! We’ve got ourselves some good ol’ fashioned infectious killer mold,” said the Doctor as he sauntered away from the corpse on the ground. “Well, I say ol’-fashioned, but whether it’s ol’ or new or in-between, I actually haven’t got a clue. Its age hardly matters, either way. What matters,” he said, planting himself firmly in front of Rose, “is that we’ve got a way to stop it, now. Thanks to me.”

“Modest as ever,” Rose replied drily, but she couldn’t help the smile that escaped her. The Doctor grinned widely in reply, nodding.

“And what about her?” asked the Doctor a few minutes later, as Saito rolled Jackie out to safety along with everyone else, locking the hallway behind her. “How’s she doing?”

“Fairly stable,” Saito replied. “Very little change one way or the other.”

The Doctor clicked his tongue. “Ah, well, better than change for the worse, I suppose.”

Rose watched as Saito pushed her unconscious mother into an adjoining room, forcing herself not to chew on her lower lip or the skin around her thumbnail, like she would have done oh-so-long ago. Her mother didn’t look any worse than she did a few minutes prior, but she sure didn’t look any better, either.

“And you?” the Doctor asked Rose, his voice low against the sounds of UNIT employees chatting quietly in the background. “Are you feeling all right? Any symptoms, anything I should be worried about?”

“Everything’s fine,” Rose replied. Thanks to you, she almost added, but she bit her tongue before it had the chance.

“So we know it’s mold,” she said instead, ignoring every impulse in her body that shouted at her to give the Doctor a hug, no matter how much she may want to offer reassurance, or receive it herself. “And we know we can use bleach against it. Will that stop it from going into people’s minds?”

“Ahh, I was just getting to that! The telepathy. You figured it out already! Of course you did, you’re brilliant. Speaking of which,” said the Doctor, positively beaming down at Rose, “well-done, you!”

Rose blinked. “Well-done, me, what?”

“Well-done, you, with the mandatory psychic training, that’s what.” The Doctor tucked his free hand into his pocket, rocking back on his heels. “Miranda might’ve dropped that little tidbit in conversation, before she...well,” he trailed off, and Rose could tell he was trying very hard not to glance back, not to look at the bleach-stinking corpse that several UNIT employees were dealing with behind him. “Point is, if it wasn’t for your training, we’d have a hell of a lot more bodies to deal with right now. Cos that’s how the mold invades, breaking into the mind first, hijacking its signals to alter the body on a molecular level, after. But if your psychic shields are strong enough—”

“Then they can’t get in,” Rose murmured.

The Doctor nodded. “Exactly. ”

“And of course Mum’s never undergone any kind of training like that, so she wouldn’t be able to stop it,” Rose continued tiredly, cursing herself yet again for her lack of foresight. “And let me guess—each of the infected UNIT employees were compromised, somehow.”

“That’s precisely it. For non-telepaths, psychic shields can be compromised by any number of things, stress or injury or illness or lack of sleep being chief among them. And all of the infected just so happen to be single caretakers of multiple children, busy nighttime workers, or people whose mental or emotional faculties were otherwise placed under an undue amount of stress. But that is not, in any way, your fault,” said the Doctor, grabbing Rose’s hand as if he could hear the self-recrimination flooding her thoughts. “Like I said, if you hadn’t installed that protocol, if you hadn’t taught the people here how to protect themselves against a psychic invasion, you would be contending with a lot more corpses right now. You’ve kept a lot of people alive, who wouldn’t be otherwise.”

Rose’s hand tensed in his grasp, her heart twisting guiltily behind her ribs. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” she mumbled, sliding her hand out of his.

The Doctor tilted his head in confusion. “Do what?”

“It’s been a rubbish day,” Rose said quietly, unable to look him in the eye, “and I’ve been horrible to you.”

He stared at her blankly.

“You shouldn’t be so nice to me,” Rose muttered.

“I’m not being nice. I’m being honest.”

Rose allowed herself a small smile. “I guess that’s one of the good changes, huh?”

“All right, so let me get this straight,” Saito called out before the Doctor had a chance to respond. He turned to her with his eyebrows raised in surprise, like he’d forgotten anyone else was in the room. “We just spray them all with bleach, and that’s it?” Saito asked, incredulous.

“If by we you mean Rose and me, then yes,” the Doctor replied. “You need to stay here and keep an eye on everyone, keep them safe.”

“But you’ve got a plan? And that plan is bleach?”

“That’s just part of it. Bleach won’t take care of everything; that’ll only corrupt the host-bodies, make them unfit for possession. The real thing is tracking down the physical hive mind and taking it out at the source.”

Rose frowned. “When you say taking it out, do you mean you’re gonna kill it?”

“No, I mean I’m taking it out for a nice dinner at Kitty Fisher’s,” the Doctor teased as Saito walked away, rolling her eyes at them both. “Yes, of course I’m gonna kill it. Any reason I shouldn’t?”

The real you wouldn’t, she wanted to say. “Is there any reason you should?” she asked.

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, the Doctor slowly fished the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket. “You said you’re not experiencing any symptoms, right?” he asked, his voice deceptively mild. “Mind if I give you a quick check just in case?”

“Why?”

The Doctor shrugged. “Just seems a little funny that you’re speaking in defense of the killers trying to murder your mum.”

“Of course I’m not defending that,” Rose said stubbornly, allowing the Doctor to gently tilt her head this way and that as he inspected her with the sonic. “But the mold—as silly as this sounds, it’s got a brain. It thinks, it talks. It’s a person, or people, or however that works. We can’t just kill it, can we? Haven’t we got to give it a chance?”

“It had its chance,” the Doctor muttered. “It is, as you might have noticed, shockingly easy to not-murder-people.”

“It’s acting out of desperation, isn’t it? Just trying to survive?”

“Well, so are we.”

Rose opened her mouth to argue but at the Doctor’s thumb glancing against her lower lip, suddenly she could think of very little else, even as she fought to ignore the warmth that fizzed up pleasantly at his touch. It was an accident, she told herself; this whole inspection was a purely clinical gesture, and he didn’t mean to touch her like that, in a way that made her heartrate speed up and her toes curl in her boots. Looking up at him, she caught his gaze and saw the concern in his eyes and she looked away again, telling herself not to be foolish, not to be taken in, because all good doctors are concerned about their patients, aren’t they? Never mind the purse of his mouth, the intensity of his gaze, the worry knit in his brow.

She couldn’t afford to be distracted, anyway, she told herself firmly. Not right now.

“Are you killing them to stop them hurting anyone else,” she forced herself to ask, “or to punish them?”

The Doctor’s gaze hardened. He pulled back. “Does it make a difference?” he asked.

Yes, Rose wanted to argue, of course it does, but the words didn’t sit quite right in her thoughts. They were her words, her thoughts, that much she knew. But something about them was off. Like a bit of a drone in her head. A bit of a buzz, almost, and in the background noise of her mind, was that a quiet chorus of voices she heard?

She suddenly noticed how very, very warm she felt.

Like she had a fever.

“Come on,” the Doctor said quietly, urging her along with a hand to the elbow. “We haven’t got time for squabbles. We’ve got to round up some more bleach, find the hive-mind, and kill it before it takes anyone else. Okay?”

Nodding numbly, Rose followed, resisting the urge to glance back at the darkened hall and rooms behind them, where she knew Jared still lurked, waiting. Instead, as the Doctor pulled her along, Rose snuck a look down at her hand, mounting dread thundering through her veins.

There, just beneath the nailbeds, she could spot the faintest hint of black.

***

#ficandchips #tentooxrose #tentoo x rose #tentoorose #metacrisis doctor #adventure #romance #angst #angst with a happy ending #horror #body horror #canon-compliant horror #pete's world #mbb fic

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moveslikebucky · 4 years ago

Link

Chapter 4 of my Raiders of the Lost Ark fusion is up and this chapter has The Boat Scene (that’s right y’all, they kiss in this one >_>!!) There’s only one chapter left after this!

In this chapter: Drinking contests with French archaeologists! Snakes unionizing! Aziraphale being Strong As Fuck! A car chase! And, as mentioned previously, some tender lovely kissing <3

Excerpt below, with the link to ao3 at the bottom <3

As always I’m thanking @narumikaiko for the amazing beta work, @luritto for britpicking and keeping me honest, and @yamisnuffles for doing the art that inspired this in the first place <3 <3 Also tagging @mcbitchtits cuz as always I would hate for them to miss this xD.

We’re almost at the end, one chapter to go after this!

---

Belloq’s Tent, Dig Site at Tanis. Almost dawn.

Crowley downs his third glass of brandy, feeling the burn as it runs down his throat. He’s still perfectly sober, but making a show of not being. Belloq has devolved from one rant to the other, finally settling on Nazis in general.

“I don’t even want to work with them, they’re just the only ones taking me seriously! Even then, they really aren’t.”

“Facist regimes usually only take themselves seriously. Big reason why they happen. It’s all me, me, me, I, I, I and off they go.” Crowley gestures broadly as he speaks, playing up the motion, creating a false sense of security.

“You must’ve seen quite a few of them.”

“In my experience,” Crowley says, adding a hiss into the word for effect, “humans are pretty much all the same. You’ve seen one regime, you’ve seen them all.”

“The knowledge of humanity you must have. I wonder how many history books have it wrong?”

“Ah- here, let me,” Crowley extends a hand and Belloq passes him the bottle. “You’d be surprised how much they get right, actually. And how much of what’s right they say is false.” He pours himself another glass, tops off Belloq’s when he extends it out. “King Arthur, for example: great fella. Bit too great, spreading his good will all over the bloody place.”

“King Arthur was real?”

“Oh yeah, whole thing. Lady of the Lake and all that nonsense. Dinosaurs, though. Completely fake. Big cosmic joke, that one.”

“Astounding. You could completely rewrite human history!” Belloq exclaims as he throws back his liquor. Crowley laughs and makes a show of spilling his glass. “Oops,” Belloq slurs at him, devolving into laughter of his own.

Crowley watches the brandy at the edge of the circle as it streaks the red paint where it drags through it. He sighs and cracks his spine, feeling his power start to trickle back. Be a few minutes yet before it’s enough for him to break out, but not much longer.

Crowley passes the bottle back with a smirk, tosses his own back again. It’s good, better than a lot of the swill he had in Nepal. “This is some good stuff.” Crowley downs the little bit left in his glass. “Where’d you get it anyway?”

“I grew up with this,” Belloq is, at this point, unable to even sit up straight. Swaying from side to side, face red and splotchy. All according to plan. “It’s my family label!”

Crowley can feel the tingle of hellish power creeping back to the center of him. Spreading along his fingers and toes, up the lines of his bones. A dark and creeping thing. Spooky. Like the chill you get in a dilapidated old house. The feel of something foreboding. He almost has enough to break through. The barrier is weakening.

“Tell me more, demon—“

“The name’s Crowley, if you don’t mind.”

“Right, Crowley,” Belloq corrects himself and leans forward to pour Crowley another glass. “What about the Bible? How much of it is wrong?”

“The Heaven should I know? I’m a demon, I can’t even touch those.”

“Ah, sorry, silly assumption.”

“Just a bit,” Crowley says with more than a hint of offense. He’s still not over the time Aziraphale left an old misprinted copy on the sofa in the back room. Hadn’t been able to sit for weeks after that.

A dead silence falls between the two of them. Belloq still sways a bit where he sits, knocks back another glass, leaving the bottle nearly empty. The creeping dark continues, the four points of it meeting in the center of Crowley’s chest. He does a quick test, snaps his fingers behind his back, feeling the sparks light there.

He snaps again and the paint on the floor evaporates from around him. In one smooth motion he lunges for the bottle, smashes it on the edge of the table and brandishes it in Belloq’s face. A shift in ozone, just a bit of demonic energy, and the edges of the glass glow with heat and hellfire.

“You!” Belloq exclaims, looking behind him to the rug. “How!”

“Notice your fancy jewelry is missing, what’s up with that?”

“I-I-“ Belloq’s eyes keep darting behind him as Crowley slowly backs towards the tent flap.

“Not so powerful without it, eh?” Crowley smirks at him. Humans are so fucking easy when the cards are played right. “I really must be going now. Was a fun time! Maybe we’ll meet again on a better occasion.”

Crowley turns to make his escape, manifesting his wings. Great black feathers fill the tent, more void than true color, blocking out the scant amount of light that remains. He ducks out and kicks off the ground into the breaking dawn light, taking to the sky to search for Aziraphale. A hill just to the west, a lightning strike and that telltale divinity in the air. Gotcha.

He has about five seconds to pat himself on the back before he’s frozen in midair.

[Continue on AO3]

#link #fic #my fic #good omens #ineffable husbands #indiana jones #aziraphale #crowley #we're almost at the end folks!

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elizabeth-234 · 4 years ago

Text

The Hourglass

Previous Chapter Thirteen: Trust in me

Happy Monday. This completes day thirteen of whumptober: breathe in and breathe out. Enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen: Moments in Time

“Say hello to your new guardians.”

Peter pulled down the sleeves of his shirt and gave a withered glance at Tony who greeted them with a smirk in the lobby of the hospital. He ignored the flip in his stomach. This was a different Tony All that mattered was finding the truth and if he was a bit giddy from escaping the hospital, well, he wasn’t going to complain.

“Hell, Tony. You work fast when you want to.”   

“What can I say,” He said saddling up to them and throwing his arms around each of their shoulders. “I’m the kind of person who can…”  

“Stuff it?” Rhodey added helpfully.

“Fuck off?” Peter said to which Rhodey laughed.

“I can offer my support and guidance to this wrecked youth in need. You imbeciles. It’s not too late to take you back.” He said with a side eye at Peter as Rhodey and him continued to laugh together.

“We have to keep him. I mean he looks so good in the plaid and all.” Rhodey shoved them all so they wobbled over each other’s legs and barely missing the spinning doors. Peter remained squished between them the whole trip to the car. His cheeks hurt from smiling.

Unlike so many years ago they arrived at the apartment with the gloom of impending doom. Though he still had a flash of apprehension, this time was fresh. He almost expected to see the door split in two on the floor and broken kitchen table, but there wasn’t a single scuff mark or dented piece of furniture in sight. Not even the fabric of the couch, less faded green than he remembered, was worn from use.

At the hospital it was difficult to believe the he had time traveled but the apartment it was obvious. The rubber pile in the corner turned out to be a clear inflatable seat with glitter. Behind it was a sturdier, more expensive looking chair pushed into the corner. The influence of Rhodey and Tony and their youth, he assumed, was abundant. He often wondered how long they lived in this space.

They settled around the table Peter had last seen in pieces. He grabbed the cups out of the cupboard to pour water.

“What?” He said as he set them down on the table. They eyed each other before Rhodey spoke.

“How did you know that’s where the cups were?”

Peter looked down at the table clenching his fists in his lap. “Oh, uh, well. That’s just how it was at my house and I assumed the same here. It’s a fairly common cupboard design about 45 percent of people have the cups to the left of the stove.”   

They stared at him and shared another look. Peter watched as Rhodey shrugged.

“Alright.” Tony said clapping his hands to gather them around. “I need to fill you in on the cover story and just make sure everything’s okay with you. This is not an actual kidnapping no matter what my compatriot says.”   

“You thought it sounded cool as well.” Rhodey crossed his arms in front of him.

“Of course, it sounds cooler. Anyway, I want to preface this by saying I can undo any of this if you want. You also don’t have to sign them now, although if someone comes sniffing around it would be better.”

He shifted through the stack of papers laid out on the table and began describing the plan. Tony hadn’t been joking when he mentioned guardians earlier. The guardianship, as far as he could tell from reading through the papers was as legit as his driver’s license. Peter signed his name wondering how legal this all was. Tony was putting the papers away in a matter of minutes.

When he asked how everything wrapped up so quickly Tony said: “I’m rich, kid, and money buys this type of stuff way too easy to be okay with but it does have its advantages. Case in point here.”  

“You were right to be worried. The CPS was looking for you. Along with…”  Someone kicked Peter under the table.

“Ow!”

“Oops that was meant for Rhodey.”  

“Ow, damn Tony.”

The two devolved into bickering from there and Peter never learned what Rhodey was going to say.

The brush moved up and down the wall. It repeated the same motion over and over leaving a trail of evidence on the vertical surface until it dried. He knew what room would be his before they walked him down the hall. There was the bed and dresser but was void of all the decorations that had been hanging when Peter lived there before.

“We’ve just never gotten around to decorating. So, it’s up to you, honestly I couldn’t care less so go all out.”

Peter requested blue paint and bedspread but gave no more direction than that. All three of them dressed in old t-shirts so the painting would go quicker. Peter’s thoughts wandered after the first wall. With every new stroke of paint, he wondered how and if he was changing the future. The possibilities confronted him with every decision no matter the size. He could be changing everything. The time space continuum could be irrevocably destroyed by him eating a bowl of Wheaties in the morning. Not that the apartment was stocked with any healthy cereal.

The worst aspect was the secret voice in his mind that wanted to change everything. He wanted to storm out and never return to the apartment. He longed to stay wrapped up in his new comforter and never leave. He wanted to go see May. Longed to stare at her smile and wrap his arms around him. Would she recognize him somehow in the deepest parts of her? Would their connection transcend time and reality? What was the right choice?

The answer scared him.

The impossibility of the situation was precisely why he was staying inside the apartment as much as he could. This afternoon was paint day.

“Why the long face, Peter?” 

“Go away Tony.”  

“Well, he’s got a point. You look like you wanted to paint it with lavender and we wouldn’t let you. I knew that lilac would’ve been perfect.”   

“Shut it, Rhodey.” He said with a reluctant smile. Tony stepped toward him and with a flick of his wrist, pointed the paint brush at him. Peter wiped his sleeve along his chin.

“Point to you, Honey Bear. I need to step up my game.”  

“What-what do you mean?” Peter dipped his paintbrush into the pot, making sure to wipe one side off before dabbing it into the corner of the wall.

“We’ve got a small bet going to see who can make you smile more. Believe me, kid. It’s harder than it looks. Here I thought I was king of moody but you might take the cake.”

They gave each other high-fives as Peter deadpanned. He should be mad they were betting about him. They were laughing and he agreed, it was ridiculous. Their attempts were absurd and stranger still, it was working. Tony rubbed in the point he won from Peter’s smile. Before he could celebrate Peter jabbed him with the paintbrush staining his shirt with a blue dot. He turned to Rhodey and with some extra strength and a precision throw launched the paintbrush at him.

Both exclaimed and an all-out war ensued.

The room was painted… eventually.

The paint never came out of their clothes.

None of them cared that much.

“Did you hear that our esteemed guest. It’s movie night, although I wouldn’t get too excited because it’s Tony’s turn to pick.

“You guys watch without me, I’m not feeling it.”  

Peter found out within days of living with their younger versions that Tony was right. He was the king of moody and he was wearing the crown tonight. Only with the promise of cookies and popcorn had he emerged from his room wrapped snug in one of his blankets. Tony snatched the cookie tin away from Rhodey and, with crumbs on his mouth, refused to watch any movie his friend suggested.

“But we didn’t celebrate Christmas Tones. Pllleeease.”

“You know I don’t like it.”   

They sat, arms crossed, staring at each other. Peter shifted his weight between them. He was on his way to make popcorn at Rhodey’s request but Tony’s refusal had put a stop to the plans. He risked a glance at Tony who was still staring daggers at his friend.

May and Ben had seen how Peter struggled with the holidays in the beginning years of living with them. While they never forced cheer on him, they created traditions Peter could find a sense of newness in. Instead of baking gingerbread cookies, they cooked pfeffernusse. Rather than hanging stockings, their faux fireplace was lined with t-shirts they decorated and sewed up at the bottom. Sometimes Christmas wasn’t about Christmas as much as it was about just being with people. Peter had an idea. It just so happened to involve a movie he’d watched with them twenty-five years into the future.

“How about we watch some good old classic horror films. House of Dracula?”

The suggestion was unfair in some ways because he knew Tony only watched horror movies during the holidays. Their conversation at the hospital shed some light on the reason why he refused to watch family films at this time of year. Peter decided not to question if this was a previous tradition or if he was the one to introduce it.

Two hours later found Rhodey snoring – heavy breathing, he insisted – on the couch. Peter and Tony carried the empty dishes into the kitchen. Peter began washing and Tony leaned against the island counter, water in hand.

“Hey, Peter?” Tony handed him the glass but didn’t move away from his side.

“Hmm?”  

“How did you know I liked to watch horror movies?” Peter froze for a moment and began scrubbing again. He forced himself to laugh.

“I didn’t. I picked something not Christmassy but still a movie so Rhodey would be happy.”  

Tony hummed. “You’re a strange kid. You know that?”

“So I’ve been told.” He scrubbed harder.

“You know I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Do I? I don’t know you. Not really. I don’t think I ever did.” The frustration was hot on the back of his neck. Peter rinsed the brush and began scrubbing anew. “Why do you watch horror movies at Christmas anyway?”

Tony contemplated his words. Timed slowed in that moment. The water dribbled down his wrist and into the sleeve of his sweatshirt, Tony’s foot tapped against the cabinet, and the snores from Rhodey wafted into the room. Finally, he stopped tapping his foot and turned toward Peter.

“It was something my mom and I did. I, uh, didn’t get along with my dad and used to get scared too easily. We would watch them together to conquer that fear I had. It’s stupid but I just never associated Christmas with Christmas growing up.”  

“It’s not stupid and, if it means anything, I understand. When I lived with my aunt and uncle we never really celebrated in a traditional sense. I’m sorry I snapped.”

Tony shrugged. “It’s nothing I didn’t deserve. I’m trying not to push but I am me so bear with it while I practice.”  

Peter chuckled. Tony had no idea how pushy he was sometimes.

Peter choose the wrong one.

It was such a small detail; one he barely noticed was absent on his second introduction to the apartment. Tony had given him a magazine and instructed him to pick any phone he wanted for the living room. He dropped it on Peter’s desk and hurried off not answering his questions about what happened to the last one. Peter gathered from Rhodey that someone, he wasn’t going to snitch, had thrown it out the window.

Yes, out their multistoried apartment window.

Peter flipped through it and then he’d seen the one. It was so cool complete with clear plastic and these colored innards. The neon fidgets inside would move when you were on the phone convinced him so he’d ordered it without a second thought.

It wasn’t until he awoke in the middle of the night sweat soaked through his shirt that he remembered. He stumbled to the office and rummaged through the papers in hopes of finding the receipt. Of all the times for someone to organize.

Damn it.

The phone in the future wasn’t clear with neon accents. It was a hamburger. The phone was in the shape of a hamburger. Would this food shaped communication device be the difference between life and death?

He didn’t know.

It was his fault.

He backed up into the hallway until his back hit the wall.

Peter barely noticed the shaking of his hands but could feel the pins and needles of each breath he took. His breath stalled and built up the pressure in his chest begging to escape out. His fingers tingled. Peter lost track of time.

“Breathe in and breathe out.”

“We’re here… sitting right beside you, Peter.”

“You are here in our apartment. You are Peter Parker. I’m Rhodey. That’s Tony and we are going to be okay.”  

Peter came back to himself in slow increments. His back was pressed against the wall. There was cramp in his legs from curling them up to his chest. He stiffened and then relaxed. Two bodies were pressed against each of his shoulders. His head was bent up, resting on Rhodey’s shoulder and his hand was tucked into Tony’s palm between their bodies on the floor.

He didn’t remember his mission or how angry he’d been. All he could think about was the fact he might have ruined it all. He might have taken their future away and it was all his fault. What would happen if he ever went back to the future and these solid presences were no more all because he made a mistake?

Rhodey shifted in his sleep. Peter’s head fell more fully on his shoulder. He breathed in the minty scent and some of the anger he dragged back with him from the future chipped off his heart. Did the truth matter from the future when the Tony and Rhodey from here and now were beside him, comforting him?

Peter closed his eyes and slept.

Thank you!

Next Chapter Fifteen: Down Once More

#whumptober 2020 #whumptober2020 #no. 13 #breathe in and breathe out #breathe in #peter parker #rhodey #james rhodes #tony stark #marvel #avengers #spider man #fic #fanfic #ao3 #AU #time travel #avengers AU

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savrenim · 5 years ago

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you are without a doubt one of my favorite writers. I followed you for ifmlam and somehow, just searching through ao3, I stumbled upon your tma fic without even realizing it was you. i legit gasped when I saw your tumblr in the notes and kind of went “oh wack no wonder this was so good” anyways sorry for the weird ask I just wanted you to know that you’re incredible! doing great work my dude. also you are REALLY good at writing time travel, my favorite trope

oh my gods oh my gods no don’t apologize you are the best, that is the best, I’m so glad that it carries across fandoms

(also, like, oops I have a problem with time travel/foreknowledge as my favorite trope like my current works in progress right now are:

a seer in a world whose politics are entirely devoted to people with foreknowledge of the future attempting to out-maneuver people with other foreknowledge of the future, only this seer, like, can only see five seconds into the future, isn’t really interested in subtle manipulations at all, is really good at punching things. and just flat-out uses her abilities to be unbeatable in hand-to-hand combat. there’s an entire group that’s dedicated to taking her down but she keeps just, like, thwarting them without even knowing they exist and proceeds to accidentally pull a government takeover because the person that she’s just been assigned to protect from other seers went “what if, hear me out, I fucking hate my home country, elections are coming up, and by being really good at punching things we can win” and she goes “that’s how normal people make friends, right, they pull government takeovers together”. not to mention that the entire universe devolves into a bunch of even weirder multiverse timelines by, like, the sixth book in, but it does just start with seers (an original work)

not about time travel at all but it sneaks in there a little bit because it’s set in space so I use actual general relativity for the plot points (the lesbian hadestown in space fanfic)

not really about time travel so much as implications of special relativity and time on society, half of the tensions in the setting are about the deep societal tensions when a bunch of planet-colonizing ships were sent out across the galaxy at only, like, 15x the speed of light, and then portal technology was developed so when they got places circa a hundred years later the planets were already settled, except, like, the book itself is focused almost entirely on a huge ridiculous spacerace a la Redline (an original work)

okay this one is just “cowboy bebop bounty hunter in space aesthetic except, like, they’re a bounty hunter for ghosts. they use EM tech to just punch ghosts in the face. except half the time it’s not a ghost it’s faulty wiring and solar flares or, like, a weird alien fungus, so it’s also just this person going around being a discount home inspector but for space stations and terraforming colonies” I think there’s no time travel at all. some weird things about souls and psychic powers and cloning which is also a trope I love and appears in trash novel arguably in two separate places, but no time travel (an original work)

and then Book 2 of gay murder elf bachelorette heavily featured seer shenanigans and Iria Strell has been fucking obsessed with The Prophecy ever since, to the degree that a major meme of the entire story has become

(the GMEB letters are kind of fanfic? canonical fanfic. I need to finish Book 5 because it’s Good)

which means counting ifmlam five out of the six major writing projects that I am working on now have some sort of time shenanigans/ time travel/ legitimate physics about time/ foreknowledge of the future as a major plot point)

#my life #my writing #I think physicists are just obsessed with time because it is the single thing that makes the laws of physics break down the most #it's the one thing we can't get to cooperate so it's the one thing we can't let go of #also thank you so so much for this ask #I don't know how to articulate enough how much you've made my day

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ivcsisms · 4 years ago

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wait i forgot i even wanted to post this, i have no reason to other than it took forever nd it’s very sad... enjoy i guess !! ivy wrote this letter to lux and didn’t mean to send it but it accidentally got sent anyway, oops !!

lux / delilah / whoever the fuck you are,

i’ll probably never send you this, but these thoughts have been circling around in my head like a cruel melody that’s been drowning out everything else, and i need them to live somewhere outside my brain. i keep thinking about the way you said i treated you like shit, and i just don’t get it. i broke up with my boyfriend for you and two days later you were engaged to jordan. it still sounds funny to even say that in my head, like when i’m in a nightmare and i start to realize that things aren’t right, things aren’t real. except now every time i wake up, it’s worse. i’ve never felt like this before, and i fucking hate it. i hate you for making me feel this way. i hate you for doing this to me.

i hate you for doing this to US. we were so good lux delilah. or so i thought. it turns out i was wrong about a lot of things, huh? i was wrong to trust you. i was wrong to think i knew you. i was wrong to let you in. i was wrong to believe a word you said. i was wrong to think you could read between the lines, that you KNEW what i meant and how i felt. i was wrong to love you. and god, i fucking loved you. and i was fucking TERRIFIED of it. funny enough, THIS is exactly what i feared would happen. i knew the time would come that you would realize you were too good for me, but i never knew it’d be this bad. i never thought you would just… toss me away like that, so suddenly. what did i do? what did i say? was any of it real? ever? was i just fucking crazy the whole time, projecting my own feelings on to you? i thought you cared. i though you loved me too, for fucks sake. but there’s no way you ever did, because apparently i treated you like shit and was never good enough. i guess i shouldn’t be surprised. i’m not the type of girl you love. i’m not the type of girl you marry. i’m not meant for forever, just for the night or until the thrill wears off. you wanna hear something funny? the last thing my mom told me, almost four years ago, was that no one could ever love me with “that attitude”. i called her last night to tell her she was right, but she had changed her number. isn’t that just the cherry on top of this shit fucking sundae?

first you break my heart, and i can’t even vent to my friends about it because they’re all in your fucking wedding party. then i almost die, and no one even cares. do you know you’re the only person who came to the hospital besides alex? it turns out you weren’t the only one pretending to care about me, it was everyone in my life. and finally, i find out that my own mother changed her number and didn’t bother to tell me. am i that awful? am i that unloveable? i knew karma would catch up to me some day, but i just.. i don’t know what to do. i don’t know who i am. i look in the mirror and i don’t recognize her. i’m still not convinced i didn’t die in my bedroom that night, and that all of this is just my own personal hell. that would make more sense to me than the fact that you were faking it the entire time.

i just can’t figure out WHY? why string me along for so long? was it funny? am i just a big joke to you? was it the challenge? of breaking down my walls just to break ME? was any of it real? i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. that’s what it really comes down to, isn’t it? i’m too much of the bad things and not enough of the good things, and i guess you just finally realized that i wasn’t worth the time, just like everyone else. i thought you were different. add that to the list of things i was wrong about.

you wanna know how i know some cosmic power is laughing at me? the same day i got the invite to your fucking wedding, the bracelet i ordered for you came in the mail. i spent the first paycheck of my music career on a cartier love bracelet for you. it’s rose gold and has our initials engraved on the inside, but you aren’t even LS, are you? god, i am such a fucking CLOWN. i’m usually so much better at realizing when people are lying, god knows i’ve done my fair share of bending the truth. red flags just look like flags with rose-colored glasses, though, right? i wanted you so bad, i wanted you to love me back so bad, i ate up every lie you fed me. and the most pathetic part? all i want right now is for you to lie to me again. to just pretend for a second that you have a heart, and that there’s a place for me in it. but none of that is true. nothing you told me is true. i thought about sending the bracelet back, but i decided to keep it. i wear it now to remind me where love got me: alone, miserable, and bitter. a fucking shell of who i used to be, a pitiful pathetic joke. some kind of fucking freak show for everyone else to sit and laugh at. EVERYONE. even the people i thought were my friends.

i tried so hard. i really REALLY tried. i tried to be good enough for you. i tried to do things right with you. i’m a terrible person, and i know that. i’m a liar and a hypocrite, and it was stupid of me to really think i could ever make you happy. i wish more than anything that i could have done that. i love you so much and i’ve never said that, never felt that for anyone. in my life. honestly. i’ve never even LIKED anyone half as much as you. but the person i knew WASN’T YOU, was it? or maybe it was, and whoever the fuck you’ve become is someone different. either way, you aren’t MY you anymore.

i hope you’re happy. i know that sounds bitter and hateful, but i really mean it. a part of me really does hope you never cared about me, and that none of this phases you at all and you’re living in pure bliss. isn’t that RIDICULOUS? that i want for you to have played the fuck out of me, just to know that you’re happy? i hate that i want you to be happy. i hate you for turning me into a fucking simp. a pathetic little bitch. i fucking hate that you made me love you for nothing.

i want to send this to you so you can feel as bad as i do, but you don’t deserve to see my sadness. you aren’t my love anymore, you’re just a stranger. a liar. a manipulative asshole. and despite it all, i still love you. i hate that i do, but i do. i know it’s cliche to say i probably always will, but that’s how it feels. like i’ll never get through this. i’m either going to be miserable and bitter for the rest of my life because i fucked up my shot with the love of my life, or i’m going to drink myself into an early grave. i’m spinning out of control and all i can do is sit in the passenger seat and watch. nothing’s helping. nothing’s working. i can’t drink you away. i can’t smoke you away. i can’t fuck you away. i can’t scream you away. i can’t burn you away. i can’t throw you away. i thought writing this all out would make me feel better, but it just hurts worse. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. i love you. i gave you everything i had and it wasn’t enough. [ this continues on for like 3 pages front and back, her handwriting becoming more and more frantic, the pages ripped in a few places from the pressure she was using, ultimately just devolving into random scribbles ]

#i dont.. really have a tag for this ???#♡ — FILED UNDER › 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 #i guess will work #umm #hospital mention //#drug mention //#death mention //#i think thats all ?? idk she gets kinda morbid at one point YIKES LKSAJDFK #also ill say it again... i talk WAY TOO MUCH bc this is literally 1.5k words of ivy FEELING SORRY FOR HERSELF LSKFJALF

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