#procedural really isn’t my usual speed but here we are | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

davidlikesguys02 · 3 years ago

Text

We Interrupt This Program

M/n= Male Name

Bold- Means its on a tv screen.

GIF Not mine

Word count: 2,932

“No, I can't leave Monica.” “mom? It's ok, I can stay with grandma and…” “I can't leave” “maybe I'll build a spaceship. I wanna be an aircraft pilot.” “when they were handing out kids they gave her the toughest one. Lieutenant trouble.” Monica wakes up breathing heavily and hearing crashing and people screaming as she makes her way towards the door and walks out. “Excuse me….” “they're all coming back. We don't have the capacity” the doctor tells her

“Excuse me. I'm looking for a patient. In room 104…” she asks a nurse “who, my wife? Do you have a phone?” “no” “i have to call my wife.” she makes her way towards the front desk “watch out” she bumps into a man, they both fall backwards grunting “let me help you. Are you ok? You ok?” “I got him. I got him.” “Are you ok?” she asks as she gets up groaning. She turns to the lady in the front desk.

“Excuse me. I'm looking for a patient in room number 104.” “I don't know what to tell you” she starts looking around her “Monica?” “oh, Dr. Highland, thank god!” “I can't believe it, where did you go?” “well, in her room since she came back from the surgery. I mean, I might have fallen asleep, but no longer than 20 minutes. Dr. Highland, where's my mom?” “your mom, she died honey” “what? No, no, no, no you're mistaken. My mother...the procedure went well. You said so yourself. Clean margins. You’re discharging her today”

“The cancer came back.” “Okay, stop, stop. No youre...my mom is Maria Rambeau. Look it up. I mean look it up. Maria Rambeau.” “Monica, I don't understand what's happening, but you need to listen to me Marian died three years ago.” “three? No. no. no…” “which was two years after you…” “after i what? After what?” “after you disappeared.”

Monica is walking towards big metal doors. She takes out her keycards but it beeps so she tries again but it beeped again “Ma’am? Over here please” she walked over to him smiling “hi, good morning. I work here. And…” “if you did, your badge would work, wouldn't it?” “right um… I have a meeting with…” “hey. You know who this is?” “..this guy” “Captain Monica Rambeau.” “Director Tyler Hayward”

“Acting Director. You haven't aged a day” “and you look old as hell” Tyler chuckles “come on, let's catch you up. It's been three weeks and you're the first to report. Cant say I'm surprised captain.” “How are the numbers for the astronaut training program?” “ Dismal. Lost half my personnel in The Blip and half of those remaining have lost their nerve. The program hasn't been the same since you've been up there, Rambeau. We shifted away from manned missions and refocused on robotics, nanotech, AI. Sentient Weapons, like it says on the door.”

“It also says observation and response on that door, not creation” “worlds not the same as you left it. Space is now full of unexpected threats” “always was full of threats. And allies” “Listen, Monica, I just wanna acknowledge the awkwardness of the situation. I know S.W.O.R.D.'s your home. Your mom built this place from the ground up. You grew up here. You should've been here to help name the replacement.” “you were the obvious choice”

“I was the only choice.” “I wasn't gonna say it. Look, Tyler, you know the job you have to do. I'm here to do mine.” ”Let's get you back out there.” he takes out his keycard and opens the door to his office. “The FBI is in a tizzy over missing persons case up in Jersey…” “missing persons?” “I know. But they have requested use of one of our imaging drones, and I need a chaperone.”

“Tyler, drones usually chaperone me.” “i get it” “look, if this is because of...you don't have to worry about me. I'm good.” “There's no easy way to say this, but you're grounded.” Monica chuckles “you're kidding. For how long? Who whose protocol is this?” “Your mother's. She implemented guidelines in the event vanished personnel ever returned. Look, I know it's a raw deal, but there is one positive takeaway.” “what's that?” “she believed you'd come back. You'd be doing me a big favor with this FBI thing, but if you need more time…”

“No. no. I'm good to go” “excellent. Keep me updated, captain.” Monica finally arrived at Westview “James E. Woo, FBI” “Monica Rambeau, S.W.O.R.D. what's the story here, agent woo?” “I've got a witness setup down the road in Westview, and this morning, it looked like he flew the coop?” “Your missing person is in the witness protection program?”

“I have contacted known associates, relatives…” “and let me guess, none of them have seen him either?” “No. None of them have ever heard of him. Something seemed hanky to me, so I took the first flight out of Oakland to interface with local law enforcement, which is when I encountered a new wrinkle.” “what's that?” “Pardon me, Sheriff. Would you mind repeating your claim about Westview to my colleague here?” “no such place” “you're saying the town of Westview, New Jersey, does not exist?”

“It's what I keep telling your G-man here, but he won't listen.” “I see. and , um, I'm sorry, what town are you from?” “Eastview” “Thank you, Sheriff. I'll reach out if we need any further assistance. I, uh, pulled phone numbers for all the residents. I'm only through the D’s, but so far I got Diddly Squat.” “So you can't reach anyone inside and everyone on the outside has some sort of selective amnesia?”

“This isn't a missing person's case, Captain Rambeau, it's a missing town. Population: 3,892.” “Why haven't you gone inside to investigate?” “Cause it doesn't want me to. You can feel it too, can't you? Nobody's supposed to go in.” Monica walks over to her car and pulls out a drone. “What about you?” “Me? Well, I'm from Bakersfield, originally. Growing up, other kids had Michael Jordan posters on their walls, but I had Eliot Ness.”

“No, no, no, no. I mean, why is it that you have an awareness of Westview? Or me, for that matter? Is it because we are outside of a certain radius, or maybe because we don't have a personal connection?” She looks at the screen but the drone malfunctions. She looks up and it's gone “Wait, where'd it go?” “It was right there.” she walk towards the town but stops as she hears electricity bussing “whoa..”

“What is it?” “some sort of energy field” “Careful, Rambeau. Captain Rambeau! Watch it. Rambeau! Captain Rambeau! Captain Rambeau!” she sticks her hand in and it pulls her in and she disappears.

24 Hours Later

“Hey. What's your field?” “We're not supposed to talk to each other.” “hmm? Boy scout leader. Got it. And you” Darcy asked a woman next to the boy scout leader. “Nuclear biology” “artificial intelligence” “astrophysics. We got the full clown car. It means whatever the threat is, S.W.O.R.D. clearly has no idea what they're dealing with.” “I'm a chemical engineer” “no one cares”

“Alright grab your gear.” Darcy walks around the S.W.O.R.D. camp. “Ms. Lewis?” “Dr.Lewis” “we have your gear set up inside.” the man walks Darcy inside a tent “those drones you're sending in, what kind of data are you getting?” “I'm afraid that is highly classified.” “You can't see anything? FBI, Army. I saw the Air Force Office of Special Investigations out there. Research Lab, Space Command, too. A bona fide, joint, multi-service response. Really looking forward to the commemorative T-shirt. Is there somewhere a lady could get a cup of coffee? You guys look like you might get down with those little pod things. Horrendous for the environment…”

“Make your assessment, please” “whoa… I mean, whoa..” “what are you getting?” “a colossal amount of CMBR” “CM…” “Cosmic Microwave Background Radiation.” “we've been told the radiation is within a safe limit” “uh, it is… for now” “wait what do you mean” Darcy shushes the man “there's are longer wavelength superimposed over the noise here” she looks under the desk and struggles to get something “I got it”

“I need a TV. an old one. Like, not flat.” After a few hours it started raining. “Are you good to go?” Hayward asked an agent “yes, sir” “these sewers will take you straight into town. Try to find anything you can on Rambeau” “copy that” “keep me updated” Hayward says as he walks away. “Director Hayward, between you, me, and the bedpost, I am not confident about this mission.” “Thanks for the feedback, Jimmy. If only my drones were as forthcoming.”

“There's no reason to suspect the perimeter doesn't extend subterraneous.” “There's no reason to suspect it does.” Jimmy sighs “We don't know enough about the nature of the threat to send in another agent when the first is yet to return.” “Someone must really miss you back in Quantico.” “No, sir. Softball season's over, sir.” “what do we have up?” Hayward asked agent Rodriguez “Radar, sonar, infrared” “cycle through. Will someone get me a useful visual, dammit?”

Everyone hears a studio audience laughing in the tent “what is that?” “Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?” “Who is doing that?” “Who are those people?” “What are you wearing?” “Why are they here?” “Well, it's our anniversary!” “our anniversary of what?” “Well, if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you!” “is that..” “ yeah, it looks like him.” “you move at the speed of sound and i can make a pen float through the air, who needs to abbreviate?”

“Look , I know it's been a crazy few years on this planet, but he's dead, right? Not blipped, dead.” “excellent plan. Where's the tenderizer” “what am I looking at? You? What is that? Where's this coming from?” “out there” “you didn’t answer the back door. For your upside-down cake. oh hi, I” “is it authentic?” “I'm not sure how to answer that” “is it happening in real time? Is it recorded, fabricated?” “I don't know. I don't know. And I don't know” “what do you know?” Hayward said annoyed “My equipment registered an extremely high level of CMBR. That's…”

“Relic radiation dating back to the Big Bang.” “Yeah, entwined was a broadcast frequency. So I had your goons pick me up a sweet vintage TV. And when I plug this bad boy in, voilà, sound and picture.” “Dinner is served” “So you're saying the universe created a sitcom starring two Avengers?” Jimmy asked, confused “It's a working theory” “Get me a transport back to headquarters now. Are we recording this?”

“Never stopped.” Darcy says “I need immediate analysis. Now, people. Let's go!” “He’s a charmer.” “great work” “hey, thanks, maybe I could get that cup of coffee now? Or not. It's cool.” ”Aw” Darcy turns to the screen to see you and Vision kissing “Aw”

“First and foremost, our main objective is to get any intel on Captain Rambeau, but originally, this case was a missing person, so we're going to start there. We've successfully identified two individuals inside the Westview anomaly. Let's keep going.” Jimmy says as he puts two pictures up of you and Vision. “This guest is leaving your home” “yes, thank you for coming” “Mr. and Mrs. Hart. played by Todd and Sharon Davis.”

“Computational forms. And no one can process the data quite like you do, pal.” “Agent Woo” “you're like a walking computer.” “Abilash Tandon is Norm” “Harold Proctor is Jones” “we got Isabel Matsueida cast as Beverly” “John Collins as Herb.” Darcy gasps, dropping her Noodle cup and calls Jimmy over “Really?” “Does she seem okay to you?” “Well, she doesn't appear to be harmed in any way, but that is definitely not the boss lady I met yesterday.”

“So what, deep cover? Monica has to play along?” “With whom? Or else, what? All right. Brass tacks, Dr. Lewis. What are we looking at here? Is it an alternate reality? Time travel? Some cockamamie social experiment?” “It's a sitcom. A 1950s sitcom.” “But why?”

“Hey, man, we're working with the same scarcity of intel. But, listen, I do have an idea. So, you've seen that radio in M/n’s kitchen counter, right? The next time he's washing dishes, which, by my count, happens about once an episode, barf, we'll shoot a signal to that little guy. This transmitter will mimic the frequency of the broadcast, and if my theory is right, allow us to speak directly to her. This is totally gonna work. Don't touch that.”

“Agent Woo.” agent Rodrigues hands Jimmy a folder inside the folder there's a colored image of a retro S.W.O.R.D. drone “Is this from the current episode?” “aired about two minutes ago.” “What is it?” Darcy asks “what does it look like to you?” “like a retro version of a S.W.OR.D. drone?” “bingo” “but how did it change and why” “uh, to go with the production design” “or render it useless”

“why‘d you colorize it?” “I didn't” Darcy heads back to the tent. “Let's get this show on the road. Jimmy, you ready?” Darcy asks through an earpiece. “Ready” “bigger and better every season” “uh, Jimmy, Monica is talking to M/n. she's got a speaking part now.” “what is she saying?” “those jeans are peachy keen” “she likes M/n’s jeans” “we only have a few hours” “M/n’s at some sort of swim club. We've never been here before.”

“Is it the 60’s still?” “uh, uh, M/n’s with another character.” “real person?” “ohh, uh, radio on the side table. start talking.” “M/n. M/n, can you read me over?” “I don't...” “Can he hear me?” “I don't think so, keep trying.” “M/n?” “M/n?” “M/n. Who is doing this to you, M/n? M/n? Can you hear me? I'm here to help” “please give us a…” “pop quiz M/n how does a housewife or in this case househusband get a bloodstain out of white linen?”

“Wait” “what?” “I don't know” “by doing it yourself” “that's weird” “what was?” “Nothing, it's over. Mission failure” “it was worth a try. Good effort, doctor.” “yeah come in”

Both Jimmy and Darcy are watching you and Vision on TV “darling, do you think it's time to..” “call the doctor?” “yeah” “yes, I do dear” “1950s, 1960s, and now the '70s. Why does it keep switching time periods? It can't be purely for my enjoyment, can it?” “I cant believe M/n and Vision are having a baby” “you want any?” Jimmy chuckles

“Heck, I thought about it for sure. A little Jimmy Woo. Get him a tiny little FBI badge. Oh, you... Chip? Sure.” “you're doing great. You're doing great. Look at me. Look at me.” “The jig is up” you scream. After a few minutes you hear the baby cry “hi, oh, he's perfect” “what a twist.” Darcy says as she's tearing up “What? I'm invested” “he was killed by Ultron, wasn't he?” “Did she just say the name Ultron? Has that ever happened before? A reference to our reality.”

“No never” “hey I'll take a shift rocking the babies” “no I think you should leave” “oh, M/n, don't be like that” “who are you?” “M/n” “wow this is different” The Tv cuts and Monica is gone “what happened? Where she go?” “god not again” Darcy replays the footage back “who are you?” “M/n” “there's nothing here. One second, Monica is standing right there, and the next she isn’t. Someone is censoring the broadcast.”

“But where's Rambeau?” they suddenly both hear the alarm “Alert! Boundary has been breached! Alert! Boundary has been breached!”

Inside Westview

“Who are you?” “I don't..” you walk closer to her “who are you?” “M/n i'm just your neighbor.” “Then how did you know about Ultron?” you start to see the familiar red glow around your hands “You're not my neighbor. And you're definitely not my friend. You are a stranger and an outsider. And right now, you are trespassing here. And I want you to leave.”

Your familiar red glow wraps around Monica Sending her back through every wall and fence. You gulp “I… I…” you raise your hands and start to fix the hole on the wall as if it never happened. You walk over to your babies hearing them “M/n?” Vision comes in through the door turning back to his synthezoid form “where is Geraldine?” “oh she left honey. She had to rush home”

You turn around to look at Vision and you gasp making you look down “what? What is it? What's wrong?” Vision asks you concerned “Uh..” you slowly look up at him and see that he looks normal again “we don't have to stay here. We could go wherever we want” Vision tells you “no, we can't. This is our home” you move your hand to crease his cheek and he holds onto your hand “are you use”

“oh, don't worry darling. I have everything under control.” you walk over and grab Tommy “oh hi” you turn to Vision smiling “what should we watch tonight?” you walk over to the sofa, Vision sits next to you. He puts an arm around you.

Outside of Westview

“Monica, are you okay?” “it's M/n. its all M/n”

#Marvel x male!reader #Marvel x male reader #WandaVision x male reader #WandaVision x male!reader #Vision x male!reader #Vision x male reader #male!reader #male reader

58 notes · View notes

theyscreamjade · 4 years ago

Note

hii!! i want to send in a request of the bakusquad + todoroki experiencing a miscarriage with their S/O? i just finished the movie “Up” and i was so sad in the beginning and i began wondering what the characters would be like if they were in the father’s place, and also i absolutely love the way you write angst !

Miscarriages

Disclaimer: Miscarriages, Blood, Drastic Events.

———————————————————————————————————————

* The pregnancy itself was a shocker to many and he’s blessed he put a ring on your finger before knocking you up.

* Momma was about to beat his ass.

* He’s with you every step of the way, rubbing your back while you passed your guts out.

* The first month was hell because you barely ate because of how sick you were. It honestly scared him to see you in such a bad shape, and he had to force you to simply eat a cracker or ice so you won’t be dehydrated. You didn’t have cravings or anything.

* The second month seemed worse though, the nauseous moments were gone but the current issue was cramps. Intense cramps so bad, you’d wake up late at night with it. The heating pads, medication or anything would work.

* Everyone assumed it was simply the baby making room for it or something which you also believed.

* Until you saw blood in your panties one night, the moment you walked out. You looked as if you seen a ghost while trying to wake him up.

* A quick trip to the hospital and the doctor breaks it to you that you had a miscarriage. Bakugo isn’t the type to express his emotions in front of people, but the moment the doctor walks out.

* He’s breaking down. He’s usually the one to be strong for you, but...he couldn’t then. Everything slapped him at once while thousands of questions piled on him.

* Tears roll down his his cheeks as he falls to his knees, anger flows through his veins while sadness drowns his thoughts. What could he have done to prevent this?

* This honestly pains my heart to write this.

* Denki was over the roof when you told him you were pregnant, he was excited! Beyond that. Words couldn’t describe how happy he was.

* He was ecstatic to be a father and to be best father he can be.

* He was with you through every step, all the way to the fourth month.

* You and him stood in the doctors office, awaiting for the gender of your expecting child.

* You prayed for a boy while he wanted to have a electric princess waddling around to do things with.

* When the scanning began though, the doctor’s face became concerned. Her eyes frowned before she looked over at the monitor.

* You didn’t hear the usually swishing noise, the noise you craved to hear as she soon placed you on a stretcher. You were immediately escorted to a hospital which was next door.

* Another doctor did the exact same thing, he even placed a tiny belt around your forming stomach. The minutes that went through while he grazed your stomach with the technology that once blessed you.

* “We...We can’t seem to find a pulse.” He said softly, looking towards your two.

* “W-What?” Denki would say softly, staring at him shocked. “Y-What do you mean you can’t find a pulse?” He’d ask, making sure he heard the man correctly while trying to keep himself together. The moment you burst into tears, sobbing with you.

* It’s honestly painful to see the once bubbly, sweet guy with a heartbreaking saddened look on his face but his hand stayed locked in yours, the whole time.

* Your pregnancy was actually terminated so early, you didn’t have a chance to breathe in the fact that you were pregnant.

* You held the positive pregnancy test in your hands and the moment you told Kirishima after work. You waved it as if it was a lottery ticket

* His eyes nearly popped from his head, his sharky smile was on full display as he hugged you so tightly. He spun your around with happiness in his heart. He couldn’t believe he was fortunate enough to be blessed with a child.

* Unlike others, you didn’t really have the normal issues. You seemed to crave a lot of meat though, more wanting hamburgers and things.

* The first month was a absolute breeze and you didn’t have a ounce of morning sickness, morning problems, or anything. No cramps or nothing

* It was a normal doctors appointment, A simple check-up.

* Kiri wasn’t available at the time because the hero’s had a meeting, but...he’d cancel anything for you.

* The moment his phone rings your ringtone, the only thing you can choke out from your voice is “W-We lost it.”. His eyes were wide and he stood to his feet without a second thought, dashing out of the headquarters.

* He doesn’t care if he’s miles away, in the middle of something. He’s either speeding or running to the doctor’s office.

* He’ll burst into the room and see you holding the now negative test along with a few other things. Papers containing what to do afterwards and how to mend your pain though it wouldn’t fix your broken heart.

* He’ll pull you in for a tight hug, sobbing with you as he lets the emotions flow out of you and him. He’d hold you so tightly, sobbing into your shoulder while you cried into his chest inside the quiet doctor’s office.

* The moment you told Mina you wanted to have a kid with her, She was jumping for joy.

* She loves kids and couldn’t deny it.

* You offered yourself since she was a pro-hero and you wanted your future child to see how great their mother is.

* It took a while to pick a donor, decide on one, do the procedure and wait. That took the longest of all, You had to wait until your eggs were fertile and ready for everything.

* Sis knew before you knew that you were pregnant. When started smelling how sweaty she was or how she was around Bakugo or Kirishima, it was a dead giveaway.

* When you took the test, Boom. Positive.

* She went to Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and more posting about the growing family with excitement in her heart.

* Almost a month into it, She began making big plans. She was looking at houses so you two could leave the apartment you two shared. Pre-ordering cribs, baby chairs, baby changing tables. She had a Pinterest labeled ‘Future Baby Room.’

* Almost into month two, You began having cravings. She was devoted to the mother role, whatever you ate, she ate. Pickles and ice cream, Popcorn with caramel and siracha, hamburgers and strawberries. She was down for it all.

* Nothing was expected though, It just swung at you like a pile of bricks.

* You were cleaning up the kitchen when a rush of pain stung you so hard, you let of a cry that scared Mina. She rushed to your side and held you as you felt something wet between your legs.

* She placed you into the car without checking and sped to the hospital. Once admitted, Dozens on dozens of tests were done of you. So many that almost worried her. She tried to keep you happy but even she began to worry.

* When the doctor walked in, she had an expression she’d never forget. “I’m sorry, It seems as if you had a miscarriage.” Your heart shattered, refusing to look at your wife while guilt rushed through you.

* You couldn’t give her the one thing she deserved. The moment her hand touched yours, You couldn’t hold it in. You sobbed as she sobbed with you, thinking about the little angel that was gone now.

* Your pregnancy was perfect timing for everything that happened.

*You just got married, came back from your honeymoon and was able to enjoy married life for a minute

* You felt sick for a few days and it struck you one day to just check and see, Your eyes nearly popped out when you saw the infamous two lines.

* You didn’t wait a second though, You nearly speared Sero down and waved the test in his face. Tape boy was over the moon about it, he was more than excited! He was going to be a dad and be the best one yet.

* He always held your hair, rubbed your back, kissed your forehead and made sure you were hydrated after your morning sickness.

* He was a pro at midnight, midday and early morning cravings. He didn’t care if he had to drive across town for it. He’d do anything for his tiny bean.

* Pregnancy tracker was his favorite because he was so excited to know about the little bean that was waiting to be brought out. When you began to form a bit, He admired you. He dropped down and placed kisses all over your stomach while talking to the little thing.

* Around the end of your third month however, You began to have intense pains. It started out minor but increased rather fast.

* Sero hated to leave you alone that morning, He tried to call out and have someone take it but you told him you were fine and he should go.

* Which he did but never stopped checking his phone. Every minute, he glanced for a message, ringtone, something.

* When your ringtone did ring, he snatched it and answered. He heard the whimper in your voice, the scattered and static chatter and lastly the siren.

* He didn’t hesitate to leave that minute, He sped to the hospital. He barely parked the car and rushed inside. He walked in and told the nurse who he was. It sent chills down his spine when they said you were in surgery.

* Minutes turned to hours as the Baku-squad came to keep him company, to keep a smile on his face. Your name was announced and the minute she said “I’m sorry, She had a miss-” He shuts down.

* “Where is she?” He asked softly as his feet rushed to you before she could say the last number fully. The door sung open as your eyes connected and emotions flowed. You sat on the edge of the bed with a breathing machine on your nose as he hugged you, his hiccupped cries finally coming out while you cried in his arms. Your hearts broken by the bean you lost.

* Shoto is usually prepared for the unexpected like your relationship, marriage an so on.

* He wasn’t expecting to even be married and here he was. Happily married to you.

* The poor man wasn’t ready for the announcement though. It was a mixture of bad timing and horrible bluntness.

* Iida was pranked by his girlfriend so when you told him, He basically asked “Are you joking?”

* Poor man had to sleep on the couch for only three hours before you gave in and let him sleep in the bed again. It took that and kisses to get you to forgive him.

* Now, Shoto was prepare physically but mentally he was terrified. He didn’t want to make a mistake and screw up. He doesn’t want to bare the burden his father did to him and his family.

* Was he even capable of handling a little one?

* Two months in though, when he saw your stomach forming a little bump. He couldn’t help but feel excitement through his worries. He was going to be a father, a parent. He wasn’t alone, he knew you’d help him through every step.

* Like Sero’s though. It happened in a instant. At your baby shower no less, Fuyumi was on high alert. You was gorgeous from head to toe and yet you had the most uncomfortable look on your face.

* You couldn’t wiggle, sit, or walk it away. You wanted to ease it somehow but it didn’t seem to work.

* The mere minute you were about to discover the gender of the child, you blacked out.

* Natsuo luckily caught you before you touched the ground. When you opened your eyes, you felt the blinding lights of the hospital shining down on you. A soft moan slipped out as the pain was gone, but something was wrong.

* As if it was a signal or something, Shoto rushed to you and kissed your head. He was happy to see that you were okay, awake to say the least. It took a few minutes until the doctor walked in and finally laid the news on you. “I-I sincerely apologize but...You had a miscarriage, Mrs. Todoroki.” He said as Fuyumi gasped.

*You shook your head in disbelief, there’s no way. Everything was fine. You were fine. They were fine! The more you shook your head the more tears rolled. You hands gripped the side rails before you let out a scream in agony. The fire alarm was triggered, causing the water to spray down.

* Smoke hissed from Shoto was ice crystals were on the floor, He was frozen as his emotions and quirk couldn’t be contained. Questions rolled through his mind as each second seemed long, tears rolled down his cheeks as Nastuo snatched his brother into a hug while Fuyumi held you in her arms. Shoto wasn’t prepared for a tragedy like this.

#my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #i hope you like this #bnha angst #bnha shoto x reader #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha mina x reader #bnha sero x reader #bnha kirishima x reader #bnha denki x reader

181 notes · View notes

anotheronechicagobog · 3 years ago

Text

Functional Dysfunction - Rheese - Chapter 5 - It Isn’t Salad

written by @anotheronechicagobog

warnings: swearing, mention of abortion, mention of attempting to force abortion, unplanned preganancy, Connor and Robin are still together, Jimmy is still an ass, but now so is Chilli

The next day everyone was acting weird around her. Manning and Maggie were now running away from her, Halstead couldn't meet her eyes, Choi pretended to take a phone call when they were alone in the doctor's lounge, and Doris was completely silent. That never happened. She gossiped about anything and everything, until now Sarah hadn't believed there was a force on earth powerful enough to shut her up.

A distraction came in the form of a mass casualty structural collapse at a construction site. Injured workers flooded in, while Sarah and Choi were tasked with going to the scene and treating people in the field. It was Sarah's first time working like that. So far it had only been fully stocked EDs or ORs with copious amounts of staff ready to jump into action. Here there were limited supplies, limited staff, and unlimited chaos.

So far the building they were constructing was a small five-story apartment building, it didn't have any walls or floors, it was just metal beams and underlying structure. Half of the crossbeams had just... Come off, taking the workers that were on them, towards the concrete foundation, where other workers were. It was a grizzly, awful site. There were going to be so many casualties, no doubt about it. She reached her first patient, a woman no older than twenty, whose arm was being crushed by a beam near the shoulder. It was purple. She had to amputate.

Red tag, red tag, black tag, red tag, black tag, black tag, black tag, red tag, green tag, black tag, red tag.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She hadn’t eaten in ten hours and there were two more action-packed hours left in her shift. While she was finally back in the hospital, she couldn’t help but feel like she was still at the disaster site. One wrong move, one wrong word, and tragedy would occur. Of course at Gaffney it would be social tragedy, but still, she felt like she was navigating a mine field. She’d been on her feet non-stop since her shift started and she was feeling more mentally drained than physically drained. The other interns looked at her the way she imagined vultures would, beady eyes looking at your dying soul, ready to devour your corpse. Except... She wasn’t dying. She was in perfect health, it was apparent that they thought her career was about to be drop-kicked into an active volcano. Boy were they in for a surprise.

“Dr. Reese, scrub up, I need you in the OR with me.” Chad Dovingly, the resident “legacy” intern, almost yelled at Dr. Abrams, but Sarah watched him stop himself. “Sam-”

“Do not call me by my first name, I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that. Call me ‘Dr. Abrams’ or don’t speak to me at all.”

“Right, right, my apologies. Dr. Abrams, are you sure that Dr. Reese is the right choice? I mean, I was literally born to be a surgeon, I was in the top ten at my med school, and Dr. Reese, well... Is this because she’s pregnant-”

“Stop. Talking. You may have been in the top ten of your class, but she was the first in hers. She has shown far more dedication and skill than any of you here, and I will not stand here while you not only accuse me of favouritism, but belittle your colleague and fellow intern because of a matter that is absolutely none of your business. The reason you aren’t scrubbing in as much is that you’re not good enough to yet, so if you want to scrub in more, prove to me that you’re worthy of it, because honestly so far Dr. Reese and Dr. Kim are the only ones who have done so.” He dismissed the other interns with only a head nod, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway. “Dr. Reese, the surgery is in two hours. Read up on the procedure and eat something, then meet me in OR four.” The confusion must have been displayed on her face so he sighed and pulled her to the side away from the other interns. “Dr. Manning cornered me earlier and informed me that you’ve been on your feet all day, and you’re going to be staying late. So eat something and then join me in the OR.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll see you in two hours then.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had a sandwich in her bag, but she doubted that the cold cut meats would still taste good after all this time. She debated going to the cafeteria but at this time all that would be available was heavy fast food. “Sarah?”

“Hi Dr. Manning, don’t worry Dr. Abrams ordered me to eat something before I join him in the OR.”

“Good. I was actually coming to get you, we ordered pizza down in the ED and I was wondering if you wanted to join us?”

“Something tells me you’re not going to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“A correct assumption, come on it should be here by now.”

They were almost at the doctor’s lounge when Sarah couldn’t ignore the need to ask anymore. “... You know, don’t you?”

“Yes. We all do. I’m sorry that we’ve been avoiding you all day, we just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“What sur-”

“SURPRISE!” Sarah jumped out of her skin and then looked around the lounge. There was a shiny blue ‘congratulations�� banner along the back wall, streamers taped to the ceiling and a stack of pizza boxes on the table. “We want you to know that we’re here for you and that we’re happy for you. I know that you don’t have a lot of time, she needs to scrub up at OR four in... one hour and fifty-one minutes, but celebrate with us a little now, we just want to make sure that you feel supported.”

“And that you eat, no one needs you fainting in an OR.”

“Thank you, all of you, so much... I really appreciate this, I was pretty scared at first, I still am, but I’m confident in my decision.”

“Trust me, we know Sarah.” Puzzled, she looked around at her co-workers and found them all snickering in the direction of Connor and Robin. Connor blushed and lowered his head with anawkward smirk while Robin rolled her eyes. “Doris tried to talk smack and I can honestly say that I have never seen someone get verbally eviscerated so viciously. Showed all of us not to mess with Robin.” Everyone around her chuckled and seemed to unanimously agree with Maggie. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Sarah. Besides I think it was about time someone knocked her down a peg. I mean, I know that gossip is just a part of hospital life, but she just takes it to a whole other level.”

Maggie and Nat were the least tense around her since this whole thing started, Choi and Halstead just seemed relieved that there wasn’t anything wrong with her, April and Noah just seemed content to make her laugh as loud as possible, Robin made sassy quips about the two of them sticking together, and Connor just made sure she always had pizza on her plate. They exchanged a smile when he made sure that she was the first one to eat ‘I know that it’s not salad but it’s still pretty good’. Sarah couldn’t have been more delighted to see Connor moving more freely, lighter, with an enormous weight having been removed from his shoulders.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The surgery... Did not go well, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault thankfully. Their patient had the largest tumor she’d ever seen in the centre of their brain and when Dr. Abrams removed it, it looked horrifying to be frank. There was literally a hole in this poor man’s brain which unfortunately resulted in brain damage. It was a serious risk from the beginning, so the patient and family had been informed numerous times in the days leading up to and of the surgery. Delivering that news had been assigned to Sarah and she was not looking forward to it. She left the recovery suite where the patient has just been examined after waking up and went to the waiting room where his husband was waiting along with his twin sister were after Dr. Abrams told them to wait while they examined him. “How is he?”

“He’s okay, right?”

“I am so sorry to tell you this, but he did sustain significant brain damage and it’s very likely that it’s permanent. There’s also a possibility that he could... Pass away due to the severity.” The second that the word ‘sorry’ was out of her mouth they both broke down in tears, holding onto each other for dear life. “You can see him, if you want, and I can explain a few things. Dr. Abrams will check on him again tomorrow at seven am, to give him more time to improve-”

“So, he could get better, my brother could recover.”

“I need to stress that while that is a vague possibility, it is incredibly unlikely, and I don’t want to get your hopes up. I’m so sorry.”

“... Can you take us to him? Or at least me? I totally understand if you can’t see him yet, he’s your twin, but... We- He’s the love of my life. I need to see him.” Sarah nodded and gestured for them to follow her, she wasn’t sure if his sister would at first, but she did, with a far-off, grave look in her eyes. Sarah tried not to think about it, after all, this poor woman was just told her twin brother suffered brain damage and would probably never be the same again, she was allowed to react however she needed to. Still... Sarah couldn’t help but feel like foreshadowing had taken physical form, like her patient’s sister knew more than she was saying.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sarah had forty minutes left in her shift when alarms started blaring. She knew before she even turned around who it was and what the outcome would be. Despite being in her usual ‘crap someone’s dying’ speed her ankles felt like lead, and her soul had stayed at the computer she was working on. Her mind was still there, still searching her head for the best course of action before conducting it, giving orders to nurses, telling someone to get his loved ones out of the room, and shouting for someone to page the on-call neurosurgeon... But it was no use. And from the way everyone was looking at each other that this was the outcome they expected. “Time of death, 21:37.” Her voice felt so out of place, the vibrations her thoat made were irritating. The late patient’s fiance and sister were in the doorway. He was sobbing so inconsolably, so loud, it made Sarah’s heart clench. She however, looked numb, like a part of her just died. She looked Srah dead in the eyes and Sarah’s heart broke all over again. She’d known. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you Dr. Reese... I know that you and Dr. Abrams did everything you could. Could- could we have a moment with my brother? To say... Goodbye?”

“Of course.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When she finally left the hospital she was in tatters. She wasn’t sure if it was the pregnancy hormones or if it was her patient’s death, but all that she really wanted to do was cry. No, she needed to cry. Sadness and despair was bubbling up inside of her and she just didn’t want to keep it inside her. But of course the universe had other plans. When she finally made it to her car the last two people she wanted to see were standing beside it and sitting on it. She sighed, on the verge of tears and not in any mood to deal with either of them. “Jimmy. Chilli.”

“We need to talk.”

“We don’t actually. We really, really don’t. You don’t want to be involved and that’s fine. When they’re born we’ll do a paternity test because that’s what’s required for you to sign away your rights, and then you’ll do just that, and then you’ll walk away. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not. I’m not okay with you having my baby.”

“And I’m not okay with it either, he’s my... Boyfriend and I don’t want another chick to have his child.”

“Okay, first of all, neither of you get a say and whether or not I have this child. My body, my decision, that’s it. Second, Chilli, you have absolutely no say here in anything. You are not the mother or the father and I’m not even sure if you guys are dating given your hesitation in calling Jimmy your ‘boyfriend’ and you have such a volatile on/off relationship, you get zero say in anything even remotely related to my baby.”

“HEY! DON’T TALK TO HER LIKE THAT-”

“Speak to me like an adult or don’t speak to me at all. You don’t get to yell at me, you don’t get to use that tone with me, it’s not okay.”

“I CAN SPEAK TO YOU HOWEVER I WANT! AND YOU ARE GETTING AN ABORTION EVEN IF I HAVE TO DRAG YOU THERE MYSELF!” In the next three seconds Sarah observed three things:

There were two of them and one of her

They were in a dimly lit, poorly monitored parking garage alone

They had to deal with violent people at their jobs more than she did and would likely overpower her

“The hell she is! She made her choice Borelli and you didn’t get a say in it!” Okay, so #2 was not true apparently, as Connor walked closer to them from the entrance. “This isn’t any of your business doc, so just go, okay?”

“You’re threatening my friend in a dark parking garage. Yes, it is my business. But it isn’t yours, you’ve said that you don’t want to be a dad, so you won’t be, and I don’t even know why Chilli is here, so you two need to get off of Sarah’s car and leave her alone.”

“No. We don’t have to listen to you. I’ll talk to her however I fucking want, I don’t have to move away from her car, and Chilli doesn’t have to get off it. Fuck. Off.”

“Connor, you worked a long shift, you shouldn’t have to stay for this, I’ll figure it out.”

“I appreciate the thought Sarah, but you worked a long day too and I’m seriously worried about your safety around them. Why don’t I just drive you home? It really isn’t a big deal.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am-”

“HEY! DON’T TALK ABOUT US LIKE WE AREN’T HERE! AND THIS ISN’T ANY OF YOUR BUSINESS!”

“Oh, go suck an egg, Borelli. Lead the way, Connor.”

“Gladly.”

They’d managed to make it to his car before the, quite honestly delusional, couple(?) realized they were seriously leaving, and Connor was pulling away with them shouting expletives and trying to chase the car on foot. “Thanks Connor, I really appreciate this.”

“Anytime Sarah, seriously. I care about you, you’ve become someone I trust and I want you to be safe and happy. I’ll help to make that happen if you ever need it.” Maybe it was the hormones, the encounter with Jimmy and Chilli, or the day just catching up with her, but she just couldn’t keep the exhaustion and gratitude out of her voice. “Thank you.”

21 notes · View notes

forsakenoathkeeper · 4 years ago

Text

I Am Alive (chapter 8/?)

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Please support me on AO3 & thanks for reading ♥

"Looks like we're gonna have to bring the plastic detective," Gavin said sourly, removing his phone from his ear.

Connor had been looking through hours and hours of security camera footage all morning. Somehow, he still managed to hear Gavin insult him from across the room.

Seeing as he didn't need to sleep, Connor was one of the first detectives to arrive in the morning, almost every morning. Detective Reed rarely failed to come in shortly after him. Judging by the dark lines in the skin beneath his eyes and redness in his sclera, Connor assumed he suffered from insomnia.

"Just sittin' there, doin' nothing?" Gavin asked, suddenly standing by Connor's desk. He crossed his arms, looking down at the android with contempt.

Connor had been staring at a blank computer screen, finding it much faster and easier to just use his internal interface than the computer. He also operated at much faster speeds than desktops.

He was aware of how comical it appeared, sitting there and looking at nothing; but, most were aware of his internal processes and didn't bother him about the strangeness of his behavior.

Connor had found footage of Robert pulling himself out of the harbor, the time stamp suggesting it was a few hours after their encounter. He had not managed to catch any more footage of him since. He also was on the lookout for the assailants that had attacked androids at the protests yesterday. Unsurprisingly, they were also laying low.

It was a massive city and there was a lot of ground to cover.

"I am going through security camera footage," Connor answered plainly, looking up at Gavin from his seat.

"Ahuh," Gavin replied, clearly not giving a damn. "Got a crime scene with a dead android. Heading over now. Don't fucking keep me waiting."

Connor didn't bother asking for any info, knowing full well he wouldn't get any. As Gavin walked away, Connor checked the case logs in the police database. Luckily, it was already there. The first responding officers had documented it fairly well.

Twenty-one minutes ago, officers responded to a 911 call that an armed assailant had broken into a small manufacturing plant on the north side of the city. The facility created specialized computer chips. They were most commonly used for android motherboards; however, they were also used in some security monitoring systems.

At a quick glance, Connor could see all the victims were androids. They were employees for the morning shift. When he searched the company's records, he could see they had hired the androids as proper employees a few months ago.

One android was dead and three others had been injured. There was one human involved, another employee and a witness, unharmed.

An important report was missing. Despite the fact that three androids had been attacked, no emergency medical services had been called to the scene. Unfortunately, it wasn't entirely surprising. There weren't clear medical services for androids. Not yet.

The clinic you worked at was outsourced from one of the big contributors to Cyberlife's stocks. It was, essentially, the company's way of carefully moving their funds from Cyberlife production to healthcare for androids. Eventually, it was going to start paying for itself, and it served as a great way to protect their public image.

The police needed medical services to document the case, sure; but, Connor was also bothered by the injustice here. Fowler wasn't in yet to approve of his idea. So, the android decided to make the call himself.

...

Connor was already gone by the time you woke up.

Funny enough, he still managed to wake you up.

You hummed groggily into the phone, not bothering to check who it was before answering.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think you would still be asleep," Connor's voice said politely on the other end.

You yawned into the phone. "Hm? Oh, Connor... You beat my alarm by, like, five minutes. Don't worry about it," you replied hoarsely, rolling onto your other side.

"There's been an incident," Connor began, suddenly sounding quite serious. His tone was enough to wake you up.

"Some androids were injured; but, no paramedics were called for... obvious reasons." Connor didn't sound mad, bless his heart. But, you could sense some frustration. "Would you mind accompanying me on this? I must warn you, it will lead to involvement in this case: paperwork, and likely testimonies."

"Yeah, of course, Connor," you said into the phone, rolling back over to swing your legs over the edge of the bed. "Text me the address?"

"Will do. I haven't arrived yet. I'll meet you there. I'm sorry, there's no food. I haven't had the time to go to the store for-..."

Connor trailed off when he heard you laughing quietly in the background.

"I'm sorry. I was just imagining you at the grocery store," you chuckled. While you didn't mean to laugh, it was hard not to. The image you conjured in your mind was Connor looking very out of place in a grocery store. He probably would only bring home raw vegetables and bottled water.

"I know what dietary needs humans have," Connor replied, almost defensive.

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," you laughed softly. "Don't worry about it. I can just pick something up along the way."

"I hadn't considered, before I asked, if this unexpected time off would be approved by your employer?" Connor asked.

"Oh, they'll have a field day with this one. No IMS called to an assault. I should be asking you if YOU are gonna get in trouble."

"We need medical reports for the case; so, it isn't entirely in my own self-interest," Connor answered in his usual, calm tone. He sounded robotic at times; but, you had grown to recognize that as his own nature. He was a dedicated detective after all. In your privacy, he wore his heart on his sleeve. But, right now, he was on the force. It was all business.

"Alright. Meet ya' there-" You stole a glance at your messages and noticed the address. "Geez, north side of town? Oh - that's a factory, isn't it?"

"AlphaBio," Connor answered simply.

Naturally, you recognized that name, having a small stash of their chips at the clinic.

"You don't think it's related to the protests?" you asked. It was less of a question and more of a suggestion.

"It is... likely," Connor replied, sounding a little hesitant to answer you.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised... I'm'a let you go so I can get changed."

"I will see you soon - oh - and, good morning," Connor said warmly. You could practically hear the smile on his face.

You giggled, "good morning, Connor. See you soon," before hanging up.

...

Connor had failed to mention it was the crime scene for a homicide. Although, he was, specifically, a homicide detective; so, it really shouldn't have surprised you.

The first responders had separated the three damaged androids from the body and sanctioned off that part of the crime scene to everyone but the detectives.

You had been there for almost an hour and had yet to see Connor.

Two of the androids were AP700 models. They were almost exact twins, except one had blue eyes and the other had brown eyes. The third android was a BL100 model. She had her factory issued hair swapped with something short, boyish, and ebony black.

All of them had suffered defensive wounds. The detectives made it very clear you weren't to be given any insight to their testimonies. It was understandable. They wanted to verify that your findings matched their statements without preconceived notions.

Luckily, most of their wounds were superficial. The worse injury of the batch was one of the AP700's had severe nerve damage on his inner, right elbow, cutting off movement to his forearm and fingers. It was an easy fix, and he seemed grateful.

The BL100 was hesitant to let you touch her, not that you were the least bit offended or surprised. You knew what she was designed for, and she knew that you knew. It was only after she saw you handle the other two androids with respect that she felt comfortable enough to let you help her.

As you treated their damages, you documented them with a tablet one of the officers had given you. It was a little difficult, considering their documentation was designed for humans. Somehow, you managed to make it work.

You had been there for a little over two hours before you finally saw Connor. He had actually caught you off guard. You were seated at a small, fold out desk, tapping away on the DPD tablet when you saw someone suddenly approach in the corner of your eye. They set a water bottle at the edge of the desk.

Your eyes shifted to his torso first. Oh. He was wearing his nice coat today, and a matching, black tie.

"Thank you," you uttered, a small smile forming on your lips. You didn't maneuver too far from the tablet, going over your work carefully to make sure everything was properly notated. Considering it was documentation for human wounds, you had to put extra care into it.

"Hey, Robocop!" Detective Reed called out suddenly, before the android could say anything to you.

Connor knew he was talking about him, and wanted to ignore him; but, they were at a crime scene and this was important. He couldn't ignore him right now.

He shifted his eyes from you and over to the other detective. You froze up at the word 'Robocop', somehow doubting it was intended to be a word of endearment.

When Gavin saw that Connor was looking, he continued. "This computer is having issues. I figured it was your cousin or something. So, you should be able to fix it, yeah?"

All at once, blood rushed to your face and rage started to rise in you like smoke in a chimney.

Everyone in the room heard Gavin's remark: Hank, on the other side of the room, going over the case details with the first responding officers, another detective who had been dusting for prints along every entryway, a total of four police officers, and the CSI operator sitting at the desk next to Gavin.

If Connor was annoyed, he was doing a damn good job of hiding it.

The android approached the detective. "Androids are far more complicated than desktop computers," he said calmly, keeping his eyes focused on Gavin. He wasn't just calm: he was polite. "I won't be of much help, I'm afraid."

The person seated in front of the computer, a member of their computer division, looked uncomfortable enough to commit seppuku right then and there.

"Do the hand thing," Gavin suggested, lifting his hand for a moment and waving it like he was talking to a child. "You know - probe it."

"I can only probe androids," Connor answered, plainly, as if unbothered by the ridiculousness of it all.

"It's fine. I can recover the data-" the crime scene investigator tried to mediate. It was clear that Gavin wasn't listening to him.

"Ohhh - right - right," Gavin replied, drawing out his words in mock understanding. "Poor girlfriend," he added on with a chuckle.

Did he just suggest-...?

Something in you snapped. You carefully set down the tablet, pushed your chair back, and marched over to the detective.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" you called out to the detective, not caring if everyone in this god-damned room was watching.

The smug bastard turned around, eyeing you. You stepped right up to him, fearless, fire in your eyes. You could tell Connor was looking at you; but, most of your vision was being taken in by this asshole, leaving you unable to make out Connor's expression.

"Ugh - shit," Hank muttered to himself. He approached, deciding to intervene before things got ugly.

"A real cop," Gavin sneered at you. "-and you are here as a formality. Don't push your luck."

"Connor is a real cop," you practically snarled at the guy. "He deserves just as much respect as anyone else."

"That's enough," Hank said lowly, directed at both you and the detective.

The lieutenant looked around, eyes briefly scanning everyone in the room. "This isn't a high school locker room. Get back to work," he hollered. He was loud and commanding. His words didn't fall on deaf ears.

Except, you and Detective Reed were still locked in a death glare.

You wanted to punch him. You hadn't felt the desire to do that since college, when you had to share crowded hallways with smug assholes who thought they owned the world.

Somehow, you had a feeling, the detective could sense that.

"Unless you wanna get arrested for assaulting a police officer, honey, I suggest you back down," he threatened, craning his neck a little to get closer to you.

The android felt his internal temperature rise at the word 'honey'. He didn't care if Gavin called him 'plastic detective', 'robocop', or whatever else came to mind. But, that, directed at you, specifically, bothered him.

Connor could see how tense you were, staring Gavin down with the kind of burning rage he had seen in you once before, directed at himself when he attempted to prevent you from salvaging supplies from a truck in the middle of a firefighter.

He wasn't sure if you would actually hit Detective Reed; but, he couldn't take that chance. There was a high probability that Detective Reed would go through with his threat. You didn't have a criminal record, and Connor didn't want you to end up with one, especially because of him.

The android moved in and slid his arm around your waist. He pulled you into him and away from Gavin, turning his back to the detective. With his legs moving, you had no choice but to shuffle your own feet to keep up with him, practically being dragged away. You flailed awkwardly, but Connor kept you up.

"Don't," Connor requested. You glared at the detective over Connor's shoulder.

Gavin seemed pleased with that. "I would listen to your vibrator, sweetheart," he called out to you smugly, starting to step away. "Might do ya' some good!"

"You don't fucking know when to quit," Hank snarled, his hand roughly falling onto Gavin's shoulder, giving him a push away from you.

"Take your own advice, fuckhead!" you almost shouted over Connor's shoulder. "Maybe if you got laid every once in a while, you wouldn't be such a piece of s-"

"Please don't," Connor interrupted you, stepping in the way so that he took up most of your field of view.

"Connor, don't you fucking-" you hissed at him.

"He's not worth it," Connor warned, eyes narrowing slightly at you. Well, that was new. He actually looked a little angry with you.

"Like fuck he isn't. That bastard deserves to be punched in his stupid bitch-ass fa-"

"I don't want you to get in trouble," he insisted, shaking you a little.

You clenched your jaw, glaring at the android's stupid, handsome face. That bastard disrespected him. You had no doubt that it wasn't the first time, and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last.

"I like when you get angry," Connor commented with a small grin. He didn't say it, but you couldn't hear it being followed with, 'cute'. He seemed enamored in that moment, and he was, captivated by how passionate you were in his defense, even if it didn't exactly make sense to him.

"...maybe I should punch you instead," you grumbled, trying not to be completely smitten with him.

Connor removed his arm from your waist and stepped back a little, giving you space. You let go of his shoulders and fixed your scrub top, which had been bunched up a little after he grabbed you.

"Well-" you stammered, feeling a little flustered. You couldn't help it. You liked it when he was like this. Connor wanted to be protective, but he also wanted to give you freedom, and it clashed so beautifully in him.

"Y-yeah, well, he fucking had it coming and - and you should'a just let me-..." You sighed heavily. Of course he shouldn't have just let you do whatever.

But, still-

-you were frustrated.

"-you're in the doghouse, mister," you proclaimed quietly, sounding barely serious at all, and poked a finger into Connor's shoulder.

The android stared at you, perplexed.

The dog... house?

As you stepped away and returned to the desk, Connor searched the internet for the meaning of that. From his findings: it seemed to be a word primarily used between couples and meant that someone was in trouble for angering the other, and held the connotation that the one in said 'doghouse' would not be bedding with the one they had angered.

Connor fixed his tie in place of his pride.

He couldn't say he didn't understand why you would be upset with him. What he had done to you was degrading, wasn't it? He had manhandled you, in front of everyone.

He despised Detective Reed, if he was being perfectly honest. It was something he had struggled with; but, it was inevitable that he would meet people whom he simply could never get along with.

He could make sense of being disliked for being an android; he had heard many, many reasons ranging from past traumas to selfish insecurities. But, Detective Reed sought out ways to degrade him whenever the moment convenienced him.

It didn't exactly help that Connor had left him passed out in the evidence room some odd months ago. That likely left a huge dent in his ego. Of course, Connor didn't bring it up because he didn't care.

Connor had yet to hear the detective actually call him by his name. If he was being perfectly honest, 'robocop' was somehow the most flattering of the bunch.

Detective Reed seemed to enjoy relating him to every piece of computer equipment in the office. Connor knew this was to remind him that he wasn't human: he was a machine, a computer wrapped in plastic.

-and, he enjoyed emasculating Connor.

The android didn't care of the extent of Detective Reed's knowledge of his genitalia or whether or not he was capable of pleasing you sexually; but, you cared?

Maybe, while he was in the 'doghouse', he could try to make sense of it.

...

"It's almost midnight. What the hell are you still doing here, Connor?" Hank barked at him.

Connor looked up at his desk, uttering, "I could ask you the same thing, detective..."

Hank was holding his coffee mug in one hand, a folder in the other. He laughed, mumbling, "smartass", as he sat back down at his desk.

The android sighed out your name, "-said I'm in the 'doghouse'. I assumed that meant she wanted space."

Hank let out a bellowing laugh that almost startled the android. He nearly split his coffee, too. After Hank calmed his laughter and looked at him again, and caught that childish frown on Connor's face, he started laughing again.

"Trust me, son-" Hank coughed, still trying to calm his laughter. "She doesn't want space. She wants you to go home and apologize."

Connor looked at Hank like he was analyzing. He hadn't looked at Hank like that in a long time.

"I see..." he uttered, sounding quite embarrassed.

"It's about the thing Gavin said, huh?" Hank added on. "You not having a huge ego is good for you and all, but - of course she was gonna defend you because well - you know."

Hank waved his hand at Connor, not explicitly wanting to say what he was thinking.

"But," Hank continued, "you did the right thing: stopping her before she did something stupid. She knows that, which is why ya' need'ta go home and apologize anyway. Women are... like that."

Hank paused and took a sip of his coffee, hissing in response to how hot it was; however, that didn't stop him from immediately going in for another drink.

The android pondered over the lieutenant's words quickly.

"Thanks, Hank," Connor said, hastily removing himself from his desk. It was the first time he left the office without tucking his chair back in.

#connor x reader #deviant connor #deviant connor x reader #dbh fanfic #rk800 x reader #rk800 smut #connor smut

97 notes · View notes

highwaydiamonds · 3 years ago

Note

Um. Excuse me. You had cancer??

Yeah... I mean I guess I really haven't discussed it much on tumblr. I have a little bit, but only in vague ways, or rarely made veiled references in tags.

SO, get a drink, get a snack, because this is a bit of a saga, and you already know I am longwinded at the best of times. I'm going to do like Vizzini said, and go back to the beginning. I hope you're ok I'm making this public Shells, it seems easier to? And I'll put this behind a cut because I really do wax on ( and on).

It's the end of August 2018 and i appear to have gotten some kind cold/respiratory infection. I'm at work the first day of it and it feels like a cold. No big deal. (Also this is all pre-COVID so no I didn't have COVID). The next day I feel really awful, so I call off work, and figure all I need to do is rest and I'll be ok. Turns out, NOPE. The next day I feel worse- now I can tell I have a bit of a fever, my appetite was basically, " eat one baby carrot and my appetite is exhausted." Finally, I get to the point that I am having trouble lying down - as in I am becoming short of breath when I try to lie flat (sorry if I am using the wrong word - lay/lie was always a grammar issue that eluded me.) So, I decide, ok, i will be sensible girl and go get medical attention. But I am stubborn and feel the ER is overreacting, so I go to urgent care. i park in the front row of urgent car parking, but by the time I reach the intake desk I have to put my head down because I am so winded and a bit lightheaded.

They take one look at me and tell me, point blank, "we're getting a squad for you to take you to the ER." I say, " what? no, I don't need that, this is not that big a deal." They counter, " you could barely walk in the door and you you are having significant trouble breathing. We don't have the ability to see you here." So, for the first time in my life I have to go via ambulance from urgent care to a free standing ER.

I get to the ER - where they decide, OK, lady, you're a mess. Let's get some chest x-rays and we're gonna slap some IV fluids and I can't even recall if they immediately put me on IV antibiotics or not. But after two hours there they informed me, " hey.... So, we think you need to go to the hospital-hospital not the freestanding ER." I tell them well you better hand me my laptop ( I'm that bitch who takes the laptop with her juuuuust in case I am stuck in the hospital. you never know.) Because i am not going to a hospital until I figure out if they're in my health plan. I do so and then for the second time in my life, all in one night because sometimes I am an over achiever i guess, I go via ambulance to the hospital.

They admitted me and over the next few/couple/ hours ( it was hard to tell) I progressively felt worse. I had trouble breathing if I didn't sit absolutely straight up, and at that point I hadn't gotten good sleep for around 60 hours or so. Me being me I started to get teary and panicky, because I was so tired and wasn't sure what to do. I called for the nurse and she came in and then within the next half hour your girl got taken down to the ICU. By the time we arrived down in the ICU I was really getting panicky. My mom died in the ICU ( different hospital but still) and I knew the fact they took me down there was no laughing matter. I started to think about, " ok is this what death is like? this isn't what i thought it was going to be - this is panicky and scary and not all white lights and peace."

The next thing I knew - it was two days later, and I woke up intubated. Did you know that you can be conscious and intubated? I did not. I'll speed things up a bit here. I spent a total of 8 days in the ICU - I had one hell of a case of pneumonia, and there were a couple of other diagnoses thrown in ( nope, not cancer. promise, we will get there.) . The nurses I had were AMAZING. I was intubated for about 6 of those 8 days. Then I got weaned off of it. Funniest moment on the ventilator: Physical therapist comes around and says, " Hey let's get you up and walking, you think you can?" I nodded and shrugged my shoulders to try and communicate, " sure, ok!" It went totally fine, but there were nursing students, residents, other doctors and who knows who else looking out of rooms and over desks at the two of us just y'know... *walking down the hall*. I gestured to the people because it was just flipping weird. I had an audience at the exact time NOBODY wants an audience and it confused the hell out of me. PT advised me, " there aren't too many times ventilated patients are ambulatory. You're a bit of a curiosity so people want to see."

Once I got out of the ICU and was put back on a regular floor, I got to meet with other doctors re those other diagnoses I mentioned ( chronic things I just have to manage) I also mentioned that it had been a really long time since I had been to a GYN and as had been noted in the ICU I spotted quite frequently ( I have never, ever in my life been regular period-wise and it just got weirder over time, but I just didn't really consider it. So I asked while they were setting me up with new practitioners ( my previous doctor had retired) too please set me top with a gynecologist.

So I'm out of the hospital by September 10th, 2018. The gyro appointment occurs i want to say by mid- to late September. I go in and meet her and she's lovely. While I'm up on the table she says, " hey let's do all the things and get a uterine biopsy!" I say, " excellent, do the things!" We agree it's likely going to be nothing but hey we're smart people and we will play it safe. Huzzah Gyno visit accomplished! (if I were a gamer I'd make some kind of ladybits achievement unlocked now, but I'm not a gamer.)

Two or so weeks go by - or however long it takes to get those test results back (some of these spans are lost in the mists of time). Dr Boyle calls me and apologizes that the test results that she was sure would be nothing... they are not nothing. Turns out, it's endometrial cancer.

At that point you could have knocked me over with a feather. Shells, I wanted my mom to be there so badly, I can't even express it. She would have understood how I felt - she'd been there with her breast cancer. But at the same time, I was glad she wasn't there? I remember how heartsick my mom was to tell Grandmommy when Mom got cancer. I didn't want my mom to have to hear that news, to worry about that. Dr Boyle advised me that she would be referring me to a good oncologist and i should hear from them in a week or two.

Thus began MRIS and PET scans and ultrasounds, and blood work etc. The oncologist diagnosed that he figured I might be stage three, but it depended on my lymph involvement. It brought back memories of when Mom was diagnosed and when she told me she was stage three. I asked my Dad later, "what does that mean?" He told me, " there are only four stages, so what do you think?" This time around I knew what it meant. So, we put me down for surgery November 9th, 2018. That's two days before my birthday - so I joked that I was getting my cancer out for my birthday - hooray! My best friend actually flew in from texas for my surgery ( my best friend is a SAINT, and I love her more than pearls and rubies.)

Best surgery story from this experience: For my total hysterectomy (uterus and ovaries go sayonara and then also two signal lymph nodes in the chain of nodes on either side of the pelvis to se if there is any lymph complication.) I had to be tilted back - so with my head down to move as many organs away from the uterus etc during the laparoscopic procedure. I knew this going in, However, when I woke up back in my hospital room I looked at Bestie and said, " I hurt in places I didn't expect to hurt. Oh wait. My shoulders hurt because they're not used to being weight bearing, but the procedure was laproscopic - so why the heck does my vagina hurt?" Bestie in one of her best moments ever says, " I know why." I replied, " wait, YOU know why MY vagina hurts?!" She said, " yep. So your surgery was supposed to take 3-3.5 hours ended up taking 5 hours instead. Your uterus was really big. The oncologist told us they need up having to cut it in half to pull it out of you." bestie admitted she joked with the oncologist that it was like I had just birthed a baby, he looked back at her (NOT laughing) and said, " yes, that's basically what she did." I laughed so much at that ( i mean i was also well medicated, but still) I told Bestie, " I had a Uterus! Let's call it George!" ( In retrospect I am disappointed in myself that I misgendered my own uterus, I should have called it Georgina.)

So, after healing from the surgery, by about January of 2019 I started two courses (each with a few rounds) of chemo. First came what the doctors and I called "low-pro" chemo - that we did along with radiation. Honestly, though i was making a heck of a lot more bathroom trips, you wouldn't have generally known I was sick. Most of my coworkers had no idea. I just was a bit more tired than usual. After the low pro rounds - then we moved to the bigger guns. Radiation was done but I moved to more significant chemo drugs, This wasn't because things were bad - this was the plan all along :) But I knew the "high-pro" chemo was going to make me lose my hair. THAT was a psychic struggle. I cried so much knowing that was going to happen. I got hats and caps and I even got a very nice wig. I mean, I planned as much as a girl can plan when she hears that news. I even preemptively cut my long hair. It was about half way down my back at that point. So I went in and asked the stylist please braid it and put it in between two hair ties - and then cut it - so i could keep my braid. I couldn't do locks of love anyway as it was colored, and I know it's selfish, but I wanted my hair. So, the hair went from half down my back to a face framing bob. then I just waited. And then in a few weeks it happened. I could put my hands through my hair and easily, painlessly pull it out. I am not a cute bald girl. That's when people KNOW you have something going on.

I was very lucky though, there ended up NOT being lymph involvement, and even the high pro chemo didn't make me nauseous or lose appetite. I did have HORRIBLE bone pain usually the first week after chemo ( i'd get it every three weeks). I learned a hell of a lot from that. I also was able to get some meds to help alleviate it a bit, and I took time from work when the pain was at its worst. But I have never experienced pain like that - where no matter what I did - no position changes helped. Even ice packs or heat pads didn't help or do much. It was just a waiting game, a painful waiting game. Oh also - I learned that IV benadryl is nothing like oral benadryl. IV benadryl is like walking right into a brick wall made of sleep. That stuff knocked me the hell out right quick - amazing.

Right before COVID started and the world shut down I got the flu because my immune system was in the toilet- and so I spent another week in the hospital and except for the bone pain that comes with chemo, you know what is worse than chemo injections? POTASSIUM injections. Among other things, my potassium levels were low and so I got those injections with other meds. Those suckers HURT. they BURN, and so i spent a week in the hospital only to eventually come out and find out the world was starting to shut down from COVID. Not my job at that point, but my oncologist told me, " GO HOME - YOU KNOW YOU ARE IMMUNO COMPROMISED - DON'T STAY AT WORK." So, I went home until about a month after I finished chemo.

Since finishing chemo it's been about scans, which have gone ok so far... I'm not willing to talk about the R word. I just think I'll have to be careful the rest of my life - My mom always said, "once you've gotten cancer, you always have cancer." So, maybe it's the anxiety talking, but it's kind of like waiting for the other cancer shoe to drop. In the mean time though, it's business as usual - try to find good stuff in the midst of the hot mess. Cancer has been a crisis but not a reason to lose my sense of humor. I've needed it more than ever :)

So, sorry for the SERIOUSLY LONG ASS answer, but sometimes it's just better to lay it bare. I'm not ashamed of this stuff. It's been a lot. It's been a journey... It still is... it's part of the rest of my journey, which i hope isn't over by a long shot yet. I don't believe things happen for reasons - the world is WAY too absurd for that in my opinion, BUT good gravy have i been able to learn so much from this whole three ring circus. I'm not grateful for cancer, but I am grateful for the lessons.

Thanks for checking in, Shells. You're a complete sweetheart.

#the r word is remission #cancer funtimes #i really didn't let many people know tbh #not just online #i didn't tell one of my two remaining family members for months #i have very good friends who knew and friends who are like family that supported me #i know it's crazy to say i'm lucky - but i am. i so am.#and if anyone read all of this - you definitely deserve a hug and several cookies. if i had cookies to give i would but i just have hugs

9 notes · View notes

likelightningafterthethunder · 3 years ago

Text

Like Lightning After the Thunder: Chapter Two: Reprieve

Fic Summary:

His breath wavered as he stared into Katsuki’s eyes. He knew he could get out if he tried. He could knock Katsuki out, hope that no one else would find them, and run back into the shadows where he belonged. Katsuki may have had him pinned down but he was in Denki’s range now and it would take little effort to send a charge through Katsuki to paralyze him temporarily.

It would take barely any additional effort to kill Katsuki.

As the sparks began to charge, lighting up the air around him, Katsuki refused to back down.

–

Katsuki always knew he was destined for great things.

He didn’t think he’d have to turn his back on all he’s ever known to get there.

Rating: T

Warnings: Eventual major character death, implied/referenced child abuse, psychological trauma

Other Tags: Bakugou Katsuki/Kaminari Denki, slow burn, alternate universe - canon divergence

Read on Ao3 (links to corresponding chapter) or read below

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Fic navigation to read the fic on tumblr

–

Katsuki wasn’t surprised to see one of his former classmates’ face on the news report with the tagline “found dead after hero-villain fight.”

The reporter gave a rundown of the fight that had happened a few days earlier on the other side of the city, between a small gang of villains and Ochako. The villains themselves weren’t very high ranking― potential to be B-rank if they were more organized as a group, but C-rank individually― but they had managed to cause a decent amount of damage before Ochako had arrived on the scene. The news replayed the footage taken live from the battle, showing Ochako using her quirk on larger pieces of rumble to assist the lower ranked heroes in the area with evacuation as she charged forward towards the villain group herself.

The footage wasn’t ideal. It was grainy from trying to capture the scene just outside of the limits of its scope and if it weren’t for the pink of Ochako’s hero costume, Katsuki was certain the camera person would not have been able to keep the camera centered on her. The footage continued until Ochako grabbed one of the villains, freezing seconds after the villain began to float. A red circle appeared around the villain’s face along with a mugshot before cutting back to the reporter.

In the aftermath of the fight, that one villain was never found.

Ochako had been frantic when they had met up after, her gaze thousands of miles in the distance every time Katsuki looked. She denied anything being on her mind despite it being so blatantly obvious that something was, but Katsuki chose not to question it. After all, if she had wanted to talk about it, she wouldn’t have asked to meet him.

The report continued to explain the search procedures that had taken place over the past few days before describing a call on the tip hotline that ultimately resulted in the discovery of the villain’s body. While they didn’t show a photo of the body, Katsuki couldn’t help but wonder just how bad it was for the report to completely skip over the cause of death.

In the end, Katsuki supposed it didn’t matter what caused the villain’s death. Ochako was certain to end up finding a way to blame herself, for not paying better attention during the fight, for not trying hard enough to find the villain after, for being the last person who saw the villain alive.

Even if she didn’t, there were parts of society that would make sure she would never forget.

Cheeky: can you meet up with me today?

Katsuki: Takeshi’s?

Cheeky: yeah

Cheeky: drinks/dinner on me after if you want

Katsuki: I’ll be there at five. Don’t be late.

Cheeky: got it!

Cheeky: hey wait why are YOU telling ME not to be late when I’M the one who asked YOU to meet me

Katsuki: You know why.

Cheeky: it was ONE TIME KATSUKI ONE TIME

Katsuki was at Takeshi’s gym a quarter before five, reserving their usual space and changing into workout attire before sending Ochako a text to let her know he was already inside. He started his stretches, looking up only when he saw a pair of pink sneakers approach the ring.

“You’re late,” Katsuki said, continuing his stretches.

“By five minutes!” Ochako dumped her water and towel on the bench next to Katsuki’s, quickly joining him in the stretches. “I was outside before five, waiting for you!”

“I sent you a text saying I was inside.”

“Yeah, like two minutes before five!” She huffed. “I was totally on time.”

“Whatever. Hurry the fuck up.”

They continued preparing in silence, speaking again only to confirm that the other was ready to start. This time, only a couple of the guests flinched when Katsuki charged forward at Ochako yelling out “die!”

After the fifth time a hit landed that Ochako would have normally been able to block with ease, Katsuki stood down. Her form had been lacking for the better part of the past hour, and there were a few times that her blows hadn’t hit with the full force Katsuki was familiar with. She didn’t even react to Katsuki’s change in form until Katsuki had walked over to the bench for his water.

“Wh― hey! What gives?” She frowned but joined him for a water break when he didn’t return to the ring right away.

“Don’t insult me,” Katsuki rolled his eyes at the shock on her face, “You’re distracted. What kind of fucking spar is worth the time when your opponent isn’t giving their all?”

“I’m focused on the spar! I’m totally and completely here! I wasn’t insulting you but I am now, you’re just saying that because of your enormous ego,”

Katsuki paused, looking at her directly in her eyes. She didn’t flinch.

But the longer he held his gaze, the more Katsuki could tell that she was holding back.

“First,” He began, “Don’t be cheeky with me―”

“Well maybe I wouldn’t be so cheeky with you if you didn’t call me cheeky all the time!”

Katsuki held back an amused smile.

“Second,” He continued, “I hit you five different times in ways that you should have been able to block with your eyes closed.”

“Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment, because what I’m hearing is that you think I could fight you with my eyes closed.”

“Insult. You didn’t fucking block the hits, dumbass.”

Ochako huffed, crossing her arms. “Whatever. I’m going to focus on the compliment part of it.”

“Third, you didn’t even notice I walked away until after I reached the bench.”

“I― I was expecting you to come back! That it was some sort of trick to get me to lower my guard or something!”

“And fourth, you speak faster when you lie.” He let Ochako stammer for a while in response, continuing when her shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh. “You sure this is the break you need? I don’t mind wiping the fucking floor with you if that’s what you want but you better respect my time back and fucking fight me with your all,” He shifted his weight a bit before adding hesitantly, “I can try to listen if you want to talk instead but that’s not really my thing,”

Ochako didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a drink of her water. Katsuki waited as patiently as he could, although he did offer her a glare to try to speed up her thought process.

She put her water back down and hit her knuckles together, briefly reminding Katsuki of Eijirou. “Okay! One more round. I need to redeem myself before we leave for drinks,”

Katsuki grinned, shoving her lightly with his shoulder as he walked back towards the ring. “Whatever you say, Cheeky. You’re still going to fucking lose.”

“I’ll make you eat your words, Katsuki!”

She did not, but not for lack of trying. Ochako actually paid full attention to the spar after the interruption and while Katsuki still had the upper hand on brute strength, she was nimbler and lighter on her feet. Katsuki was fairly certain that had the shift manager not interrupted to tell them that their time was up that Ochako was only a handful of moves away from finding some “barely legal in a spar between friends but completely legal in a rules free battle against a villain” opening and winning the round. While technically neither of them had won, he did agree—after some teasing and pestering— to counting it as her point in their ongoing scoreboard, adding, “But if you want me to count it as eating my words, you’ll have to fucking try again.”

Ochako seemed to be in a brighter mood when they met up again post-changing in front of Takeshi’s. She bumped shoulders with Katsuki as he approached and began chattering about work and her day as they made their way over to the restaurant they usually ate at after sparring sessions. He didn’t offer much other than the occasional “yeah” and swear when her story necessitated it, but she didn’t seem to mind. She spared him from talking until after they were already seated and ordered their food and drinks.

“Oh yeah! I heard from Tenya that you finally sent in your response to the reunion! Do you know when you’re heading down to Musutafu yet? We should get on the same train so that the ride isn’t as boring— well, kinda, since you’ll probably not be talking,”

“Shut the fuck up, I can talk when I want to,” Katsuki scowled, rolling his eyes when all it resulted in was a laugh from Ochako. “I haven’t looked at the train schedule yet. The Shitty Four Eyes approved for both the 28th and 29th off though.”

“Nice! Well, when you figure out when you want to head down, let me know and I’ll be your Anti-Explosion Time buddy for the ride down,”

“Oh fuck off.”

Ochako laughed again. Katsuki hoped this would be the extent of the reunion talk but she continued, “It’ll be great to see the entire class again, don’t you think?”

“You make it sound like we never fucking see anyone. I literally saw you a few fucking days ago and you spend half your weekends with Frog Face or Four Eyes or the fucking Nerd or whoever the fuck,” Katsuki pointed out. “We see basically everyone at the Billboards too,”

“Don’t be such a bore, Katsuki. Reunions are different from the Billboards. We don’t have to deal with those ‘damn extras’ at the reunion,” She put on her best Katsuki impression at “damn extras,” extending her palms outwards and adding a playful “Boom! Pow!”

“I don’t fucking sound like that.”

“Yes you do. I’m the great Katsuki Bakugou! Die you fucking piece of shit! Boom! Bam! You fucking extra! Bow before the king! Boomboom!”

Katsuki let the faintest hint of a smile slip. “I have never said ‘bow before the king,’”

“Oh come on Katsuki, you tried to name yourself King Explosion Murder, don’t deny it. Even if you’ve never said it, you’ve definitely thought about it.”

He scowled, muttering a “fuck off”, refusing to acknowledge that yes, yes he had thought about saying it once or twice.

“So you admit that I’m right!”

“Fuck off, I said no such fucking thing.”

“You didn’t say ‘no’ either though.”

“I’m demoting you to a fucking extra, you shitty fucking extra.”

Katsuki was given a brief break from any potential cheeky response from Ochako when the server stepped in with their drinks. They raised their glasses, a silent toast to making it another day alive, to making it as far as they had come, to their friendship.

To the silent understanding that there were some struggles that were best left unshared.

He didn’t press further about whatever it was that was stressing her out, even if he had a strong feeling about what caused it. She didn’t comment on the circles under his eyes or how his mind seemed to wander after she brought up certain high school memories. They talked, ignoring their stressors, and for a while, they could pretend everything was fine.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #Kaminari Denki #bakukami #kamibaku #katsuki bakugou #denki kaminari #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #story #from the creator

12 notes · View notes

writing-prompts-for-friends · 5 years ago

Text

Notes from Stephen King’s “On Writing” 07: The Revision Process

Next, King walks us through his revision process. He makes it clear that this method is not the only method. It is merely a method.

How Many Drafts?

“For me, the answer has always been two drafts and a polish (with the advent of word-processing technology, my polishes have become closer to a third draft).”

King admits that this number of drafts is not the golden rule. Kurt Vonnegut rewrote each page of his novels until he got them exactly the way he wanted them. This meant that when the manuscript was finished, the book was finished. (I certainly am not that big of a perfectionist, nor am I that patient lol.)

For beginner writers in particular, King offers the following advice:

“Let me urge that you take your story through at least two drafts; the one you do with the study door closed and the one you do with it open.

“This first draft--the All-Story Draft--should be written with no help (or interference) from anyone else. There may come a point when you want to show what you’re doing to a close friend because you’re proud of what you’re doing or because you’re doubtful about it. My best advice is to resist this impulse. Keep the pressure on; don’t lower it by exposing what you’ve written to the doubt, the praise, or even the well-meaning questions of someone from the Outside World. Let your hope of success (and your fear of failure) carry you on, difficult as that can be. There’ll be time to show off what you’ve done when you finish...but even after finishing I think you must be cautious and give yourself a chance to think while the story is still like a field of freshly fallen snow, absent of any tracks save your own.”

Basically, King just wants you to get it all out onto the paper, with no external forces influencing you (for better or for worse). Just get that first draft out, and then open it up for closer examination both to yourself and others.

Let It Breathe and Then Dig In!

Okay, so you finished writing the first draft! Celebrate! Rejoice! Maybe cry!

...And then throw that manuscript into a drawer, lock it up tight, and don’t look at it for a minimum of six weeks. And in the meantime, do something totally unrelated to what you wrote. Get into knitting. Write a short story that is nothing like what you just finished. It’s consumed you for months now--so give your mind and imagination some time to reset and chill.

King recommends a minimum of six weeks, but even longer is okay. Resist all temptation to peek at it. And once the six weeks have passed, do the following:

“Take your manuscript out of the drawer. If it looks like an alien relic bought at a junk-shop or a yard sale where you can hardly remember stopping, you’re ready. Sit down with your door shut, a pencil in your hand, and a legal pad by your side. Then read your manuscript over.

“Do it all in one sitting, if possible. Make all the notes you want, but concentrate on the mundane housekeeping jobs, like fixing misspellings and picking up inconsistencies. There’ll be plenty; only God gets it right the first time and only a slob says, ‘oh well, let it go, that’s what copyeditors are for.’

“If you’ve never done it before, you’ll find reading your book over after a six-week layover to be a strange, often exhilarating experience. It’s yours, you’ll recognize it as yours, even be able to remember what tune was on the stereo when you wrote certain lines, and yet it will also be like reading the work of someone else, a soul-twin, perhaps. This is the way it should be, the reason you waited. It’s always easier to kill someone else’s darlings than it is to kill your own.”

You’ll also be on the lookout for any glaring holes in the plot or character development. And if you spot any of these big holes, you are forbidden from feeling depressed about them. Don’t be hard on yourself. Everybody makes mistakes, and they can all be fixed.

Generally King goes through the first reading fixing all the superficial issues, like typos and unclear antecedents. But as he’s doing that, he’s also asking himself the Big Questions:

Is this story coherent?

If it is, what will turn coherence into a song?

What are the recurring elements?

Do they entwine and make a theme?

What’s it all about?

“Most of all, I’m looking for what I meant, because in the second draft I’ll want to add scenes and incidents that reinforce that meaning. I’ll also want to delete stuff that goes in other directions. There’s apt to be a lot of that stuff, especially near the beginning of a story, when I have a tendency to flail.”

I can understand what King is saying here about the flailing at the beginning. Because I do not plot when I write, I have ideas that crop up halfway through that would require being introduced earlier, for example. Or perhaps as my understanding of the characters evolved as I wrote more, I realize that they behaved out-of-character earlier on. This is certainly one downside to not plotting. But isn’t is also kinda liberating to be able to take detours and wind up at a different but equally interesting destination?

Okay. So go ahead and fix all of the issues you found, and your first revision is complete.

Second Opinions and the Second Revision

“Do all opinions weigh the same? Not for me.”

Now you’re done with the first draft. You’ve patched over any plot holes and smoothed out those typos and grammar mistakes. You’ve polished the symbols and themes until they shine.

Once this is done, King gives a copy of work to his wife and several close friends (4-8) to receive detailed feedback. In other words, he has several close friends beta for him.

“Many writing texts caution against asking friends to read your stuff, suggesting you’re not apt to get a very unbiased opinion from folks who’ve eaten dinner at your house and sent their kids over to play with your kids in your backyard.

“The idea has some validity, but I don’t think an unbiased opinion is exactly what I’m looking for. And I believe that most people smart enough to read a novel are also tactful enough to find a gentler mode of expression than ‘This sucks.’ Besides, if you really did write a stinker, wouldn’t you rather hear the news from a friend while the entire edition consists of a half-dozen Xerox copies?”

What he gets back is 4-8 very detailed and different analyses of what he wrote. What’s very important to remember is that every reader looks at a work through a different lens. If half of them say a character’s portrayal is far-fetched but the other half say the opposite, than their feedback regarding that point has balanced out. However, if the majority of them say that something doesn’t work, then King goes back and sees if he can improve it.

Also, different readers pick up on different details. This is the age of internet and now we are able to check facts whenever we like, but it is still nice to have something of a subject matter expert on hand, because they are liable to pick up on details that the writer may not.

For example, I often beta fanfiction for anime. I am fluent in Japanese, live in Japan, and have studied Japanese culture and history. While I would never claim to be a “subject matter expert” on Japan, I am able to make certain corrections regarding, say, the type of kimono a character should be wearing, that the writer would not have considered.

It’s very easy to accept feedback that deals with facts (i.e. a beta corrects you on the standard procedures for CPR). However, it’s much harder to handle subjective feedback (i.e. “The ending felt inconclusive.”). Having put as much work as you have into creating this, it can feel like a personal attack because this story is a very dear part of you. What do you do if your beta tells you something like this?

“Subjective evaluations are, as I say, a little harder to deal with, but listen: if everyone who reads your book says you have a problem, you’ve got a problem and you better do something about it.

“Plenty of writers resist this idea. They feel that revising a story according to the likes and dislikes of an audience is somehow akin to prostitution. ... But come on, we’re talking about half a dozen people you know and respect. If you ask the right ones, they can tell you a lot.

“Do all opinions weigh the same? Not for me. In the end I listen most closely to [my wife], because she’s the one I write for, the one i want to wow. If you’re writing primarily for one person besides yourself, I advise you pay very close attention to that person’s opinion. And if what you hear makes sense, then make the changes. You can’t let the whole world into your story, but you can let in the ones that matter the most. And you should.”

I think, especially in the age of prolific fanfiction in which the author usually updates as they write the story, the author feels a lot of pressure from their readers. Readers chomping at the bit for the main characters to have a naughty scene, or demanding to know about that one secret thing that you keep alluding to. A lot of fanfic writers struggle to tow the line of “writing a good story based on reader feedback” and “pandering.”

My advice to fanfic writers out there is to tell those thirsty readers to read a one-shot if they’re looking for a quick fix of smut, and to have some goddamn patience. You’re trying to tell a story, one that builds and progresses, and that takes time. Don’t give in to those “OMG MAKE THEM KISS ALREADY” reviews. But if a lot of readers say something like, “I feel like this character wouldn’t do that,” then perhaps you should re-evaluate that.

On Pace and Reducing Glut

“Formula: 2nd Draft = 1st Draft - 10%.”

So now you have your first draft done. You have your feedback from your trusted betas. And now you need to go and make the final changes.

King states that you should rely on your most trusted betas to gauge whether or not your story is paced correctly and if you’ve handled the back story in satisfactory fashion. “Pace” is the speed at which your narrative unfolds.

”There is a kind of unspoken (hence undefended and unexamined) belief in publishing circles that the most commercially successful stories are novels are fast-paced. I guess the underlying thought is that people have so many things to do today, and are so easily distracted from the printed word, that you’ll lose them unless you become a kind of short-order cook, serving up sizzling burgers, fries, and eggs over easy just as fast as you can.

“But you can overdo the speed thing. Move too fast and you risk leaving the reader behind, either by confusing or by wearing him/her out. ... I believe each story should be allowed to unfold at its own pace, and that pace is not always double time. Nevertheless, you need to beware--if you slow the pace down too much, even the most patient reader is apt to grow restive.”

So how can you strike a happy medium? Rely on your most trusted betas and their input. King says, “Every story and novel is collapsible to some degree. If you can’t get out ten percent of it while retaining the basic story and flavor, you’re not trying very hard. The effect of judicious cutting is immediate and often amazing. You’ll feel it and your betas will too.”

On backstory, King issues some opinions and advice:

It’s important to get the backstory in as quickly as possible, but it’s also important to do it with some grace.

A reader is more interested in what’s going to happen instead of what already did.

Even when you tell your story in a straightforward manner, you’ll discover you can’t escape at least some backstory.

“The most important things to remember about backstory are that (a) everyone has a history and (b) most of it isn’t very interesting. Stick to the parts that are, and don’t get carried away with the rest.”

Source: King, Stephen. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Hodder, 2012.

527 notes · View notes

katehuntington · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Black Dog - part five Word count: 5600± words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part five summary: Dean and David hike up White Horse Mountain, and the hunter stumbles on something he never expected to find. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 & @deanwanddamons. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

“There. That’s our car.”

David points at the Ford Escape ahead, which is parked alongside the road next to a stream. Dean peers through the windshield and nods, satisfied. He didn’t actually think it was possible, but David is as good at chart reading as Sam is. The nineteen-year-old remembers these backroads well.

Even though the timing isn’t perfect, now that the end of the day is approaching fast, the kid with the heart of a lion is determined to find his family and bring them home. If this creature turns out to be a wendigo, a hunt at night adds a bigger risk, but according to David, the weather is going to take a turn within the coming days, leaving not much time to lose. Then there’s the factor of those three missing hunters. The old wise man down in the village presumed them to be dead already, but a presumption isn’t definite. Dean will not write them off without finding either solid proof or dead bodies, and every minute passing slims the chances of their survival.

As the hunter pulls over, he observes his surroundings. A fallen tree blocks the road ahead. It has been there for a while by the looks of it, because besides the SUV of David’s father, two other cars also await their owners to come back. One is a 4x4 Jeep with huge antlers attached to the grill, the other is a two-seat Land Rover with way too many bumper stickers on the rear end. “I’m guessing those are the hunters’ cars,” Dean presumes.

He turns off the ignition, the guitars and drums of Led Zeppelin’s Black Dog cut short, then he gets out of the Impala. The frozen ground crunches under his boots, the breath he blows out forming a small cloud as soon as it collides with the cold air. David takes his example and exits the car as well, moving towards the Ford.

“There’s equipment inside that we’re going to need,” he says, while trying to have a look through the window. Dean walks around his Chevrolet and slides the keys into the lock of the trunk. “Like what?” “You know, the ten essentials. Ice axes, crampons, snowshoes, all that,” David sums up. “Apparently I don’t,” Dean mutters, realizing it’s a good thing David decided to come along for the ride. His father had taken him and his brother on survival training plenty of times, but never in these snowy conditions on treacherous mountain tops.

David curses, as he tries to open one of the doors. “Damn it, Dad locked it.” “That’s where my equipment comes in handy.” David turns around to see what Dean is talking about. He has opened the trunk of the Chevrolet and takes out a steel lath which is slightly bent at the end. David has seen it before in movies; it’s used for carjacking. For a second he glares at Dean. Why would he carry something like that with him? Skillfully, Dean slips the lath between the glass and the rubber frame, and with a quick motion, he unlocks it, without leaving a scratch. He steps back and gestures to the car door. “Knock yourself out.”

Stunned, David glances from the SUV to Dean as he starts to wonder what this guy does for a living. Before he can ask, the stranger fires a question at him, though. “How long did it take you to get over that ridge?” Dean wonders. “About three hours. It’s getting dark already, so it might take a little longer than that,” David admits, watching Dean head back towards the slick, black car. “Where are you going?” “I need to make a call before we go on this little adventure,” he notifies before he lowers himself into the driver’s seat.

He closes the door and sighs, then takes out his phone. For a few seconds, he stares down at the little device in his hand, unsure if he should go through with what he’s about to do. Sam chose to walk away from him when he offered him a choice, Dean should not be the one crawling back to him. Or should he? Does he need to be the bigger man here? The first one to restore contact? If he does, he needs to do it now. The signal is bad down in the valley, not to mention up there between the clouds.

Pressing the speed dial before he can decide otherwise, Dean presses the dial button, but is eventually put through to voicemail. He can’t help but wonder if Sam just denied his call or that he’s unable to come to the phone. While the standard message plays, he starts to get worried. His little brother better not be in some kind of trouble. Then the final beep sounds in his ear and he leaves a message.

“Hey, Sammy... It’s - it’s me. I just wanted to let you know that, uh... I’m in Darrington, Washington State. Dad was right, there is a case here. I’m not sure what it is yet, but I’ll figure it out. Anyway, I’m going into the woods and won’t be able to contact you any time soon, so…” He pauses and takes a breath. “I hope you’re doing okay, Sam. Leave me a message when you get this.”

After those words, he hangs up and stares at his phone. Why couldn’t he say it? Why couldn’t he pronounce that simple word? Is it that hard to tell his brother that he is sorry about that fight? Apparently it is. With a deep sigh, he gets out of his car and notices David is already waiting. He has two backpacks ready and is carrying all sorts of tools on him. “You’ll need this,” he offers, handing Dean a backpack. Dean takes it and hooks his arm through one of the loops, then he turns to the trunk of his Chevrolet. “Good, now let’s bring on the good shit.”

With those words, he opens the lid and lifts up the double bottom, revealing his weapon collection. David’s eyes widen and stare down the trunk. Pistols, shotguns, knives, grenades, a sniper rifle, axes, crossbows. And is that…? Is that a grenade launcher? Every single weapon you could possibly think of is stored in that car.

Frightened, he looks over at Dean. “Are you going to kill me?” Dean looks aside, puzzled. “What? No, of course not.” He takes his gun from his waistband, unloads it, and replaces the bullets with silver ones. Curious yet scared, David monitors his actions.

“Do you know how to handle a rifle, David?” Dean asks while he packs a set of flare guns and extra cartridges. It still bugs him that he’s not sure what he’s dealing with yet, which is usually step one when it comes to hunting. He doesn’t want to waste more time, though, with so many lives lost already, so he’s gearing up for every creature still on the list. “Yeah, Dad took me deer hunting a few times,” the young guy replies, still doubtful. “I’ll tell you one thing, it ain’t deer we’re gonna hunt,” Dean comments.

He hands the young guy a loaded pistol, which David puts away behind his belt. Dean loads a shotgun with rock salt, in case he finds a spirit in these woods. When he’s done, he gives it to David as well as a flare gun. “Shoot first, ask questions later,” he orders.

“What are we hunting exactly?” David likes to know, slightly freaked out. “Probably a skinwalker, which is a creature that is able to change into any animal it wants, and if we’re really lucky, it’s a wendigo, which is an incredibly fast and close-to-perfect hunter. But it could also be a daeva, ” Dean rambles, as if he’s reading from a boring history book while preparing his own shotgun.

David's jaw drops. What did he just say? Is this guy for real? Or is he about to hike up a mountain with someone who should be admitted either to a mental institution or locked up in jail? That would be the obvious explanation, but after what he experienced, he knows it’s not the only scenario. This stranger, who he had never seen before in his life, is the only one who believes his story and has taken him seriously. He wonders, though. What’s the scarier thought? Going into the woods with a possible mad man, or to seek out something evil, something supernatural, in the wilderness?

Dean notices his guide’s reaction as he slams the lid of his car and locks it up. He figured the kid needed some time to comprehend, but they need to get going. The hunter turns to David again, skillfully loading his rifle single-handedly. “Welcome to my world.”

Leaving the teenager in complete shock, he walks past him and expects him to follow, which he eventually does, once he snaps out of it. “So… we just kill the monster?” he asks as he catches up with Dean, looking aside. “Not ‘just’. These creatures are damn fast, so it’s gonna be a hell of a task.” Dean gives the directions clearly, knowing they will need some time to sink in. “If you see any kind of animal, you shoot it with that gun I just gave you. If you see something that looks slightly human, torch the fucker.” “What if it’s something else?” the only remaining Cleveland questions. “Then you run like hell and let me take care of it,” Dean orders. David nods, trying to process the information. “And the shotguns?” “Oh, I took those just in case we run into an evil spirit,” Dean adds nonchalantly.

The young guy, who is exposed to way more new information than he can digest, stops dead in his tracks, leaving Dean in the lead. Completely staggered, he stares at him, bug-eyed. Did he just say ‘evil spirit’? As in a ghost?

“You’re insane!” he concludes. “If you have a better explanation for all this, please share,” Dean returns, growing impatient. David catches up with him again, observing him while they march up the trail. �� “You do this for a living? You actually hunt these things down?” he asks, both stunned and curious. “It doesn’t pay well if that’s what you mean, but yeah. Someone has to do the job,” the hunter admits. “And I thought I had it bad in college,” the teenager scoffs under his breath.

Silence follows as the company of two starts their journey up the steep hills at the foundation of Whitehorse Mountain. It’s a good thing Dean has endurance, because it’s a tough trail they’re following. They parked the car at 750 feet, far below the Lone Tree Pass, and crossing these terrains isn’t exactly a walk in the park. Downed evergreens make it difficult to move fast, almost as if the woods are trying to slow them down, knowing what’s up there.

They are about two hours on their way when they hit snow. The thin layer of white allows the two young men to make good time, and it doesn’t take them long to reach an open area. Ice crystals reflect the mystical moon rays, the only source of natural light they have. Dean might be wearing several layers of clothing, but he can’t shut out the freezing temperatures completely. His hands tingle and his nose and ears feel cold, the brisk night air uncomfortable against his skin. The hunter turns up the collar of his jacket to protect his neck from the elements, but silently wishes he had brought a scarf at least.

The snow that fell yesterday reached lower altitudes than it did last week, announcing winter. David’s flashlight shimmers on the silver surface as they cross the open space. Cautious, Dean scans the area holding his torch up, shining it in the direction where he’s looking. David, on the other hand, checks his altimeter. “We’re at 2400 feet,” he notifies. Dean checks his watch, it’s almost ten-thirty. “We’re not gonna reach the Lone Pass Tree before midnight, are we?” “I’m afraid not. Want to set up camp?” David proposes. “No, we’re not gonna close our eyes in these woods. Something’s off,” Dean replies, alert.

The skilled hunter can’t put his finger on it, but the hair in the back of his neck is straight up. He looks around, his focus flicking over his surroundings. He lets the light glide along the edge of the forest, when he sees a hint of a shadow. It moves so fast he barely captures it, yet he immediately draws his shotgun, which alerts David. “What?” “Shh…” Dean hushes him and gestures to follow him. “Stay close. Keep your eyes open.”

Scared yet brave, David takes out his gun and does as told. The only thing they hear are the noises coming from the woods and the snow rustling under their shoes. Dean wants to get out of this clearing as fast as possible; they are sitting ducks out here in the open.

With his hunter instincts on high alert, Dean crosses the field, the stock of the shotgun against his cheek and the back end firmly against his shoulder pocket as he peers past the barrel. His father, having served in Vietnam, taught his sons everything he knows about 360 degrees combat. The military training has proven his worth throughout his career in hunting evil, and today is no exception.

The two make it to the treeline, finding shelter in the shadows of the forest. After a few hundred yards, Dean stops dead in his tracks, spotting something that doesn’t fit the picture. What appears to be the remnants of a campsite comes into view, and he lowers his weapon. He realizes it’s probably the three missing hunters, but as they approach, it becomes clear that the creature he’s tracking has beaten him to it.

The place is completely trashed. A fire has died out, fresh snow covering the blackened logs. The tents, which were set up in a triangle around the only heat source, are shredded to pieces. Strips of canvas sadly hang from the tentpoles, the soft breeze moving them back and forth. Blood that leaked from the groundsheet and tainted the ice should have been a warning, but the young Cleveland pulls back the cover anyway, regretting it the second he beholds what’s inside. He stumbles away, instantly throwing up and dumping his half-digested meal into the snow.

Dean watches the young guy for a second, who wipes his mouth and stares back at him, pale as a ghost. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the first dead body the hunter has come across, yet he still pushes away the torn canvas with caution. He can understand David’s response, because it’s anything but a pretty sight. Inside lies what remains of one of the men. His torso has been ripped open and bodily fluids have splattered everywhere. Bite marks and scratches have torn his clothes, revealing the disemboweled body. His face has been eaten away, his remaining limbs already turning black. Scavengers have been snacking on his flesh, yet the frost that covers him has taken away the worst of the smell.

With a sigh, the hunter steps back and investigates the other tents, finding the same dramatic portrayal behind every curtain. He spots the rifles by their sides; they got ambushed. The fact that all three of them are still in a sleeping position indicates that the attacks happened at once. It’s not just one predator who has made this area their hunting grounds. There are at least three of those creatures out there, which makes them outnumbered.

His flashlight catches the torn-up canvas. The fabric is cut up by razor-sharp claws by the looks of it, four digits instead of five. “I can tell you one thing, it ain’t no wendigo,” he concludes, ruling out the lonesome monster.

But if it isn’t a wendigo, then what? Dean glances up at the sky through the branches. The moon was full a few days ago, yet now it’s partly shadowed; it can’t be a werewolf either. When he redirects his gaze back to the ground, he spots an imprint of a paw, stained with crimson. It looks like one of a wolf or some other canine. The experienced hunter is putting his money on the monsters being skinwalkers, until he looks back into one of the tents. The guy’s chest is ripped to shreds, but his heart is still there. So what the hell could this be then?

Pondering, he steps back, making eye contact with the teenager. David is trembling slightly, and Dean would do anything to break the picture that will be forever framed in his mind. The kid is scared for life. “You good?” he asks sympathetically, holding his gaze. His question is answered with a nod of the head. David swallows with difficulty, but then he exhales, collecting himself. “Let’s keep moving, there’s nothing we can do for them,” Dean says. “Turn off your flashlight, it will only make us easy targets. Those things could be anywhere, so stay close, alright?”

David nods silently once more, doing exactly as Dean tells him. They move away from the site where the horrific event took place and traverse left, further into the forest to a wide-open strip, leading to the slopes of the Lone Pass Trees. The tall evergreens seem to try and cut out every bit of light, isolating them from the rest of the world. Darkness overshadows the boy and the hunter, who have both drawn their weapons.

For a moment, Dean closes his eyes and listens, trying to identify the many sounds of the night. Then he opens them, giving his pupils time to adjust. They are being watched, the hunter can feel it in his bones. He taps David on the shoulder to tell him to stop. Alerted and highly aware of what’s going on around him, Dean holds his shotgun up. If it’s a forest spirit, the rocksalt is going to hurt, but if this thing turns out to be a daeva, it’s only going to buy them a few extra seconds.

Then he notices it, something sneaking at ten o’clock. A branch twitches softly, but it’s enough for Dean to aim the barrel in the direction where it came from, trusting his trained ear. In a reflex, he steps in front of David and pulls the trigger, shooting a slug from the barrel, immediately taking cover behind a tree and pulling his guide with him. It’s a good thing he does, because whatever it is, it shoots back. He hears the rock salt hit the target right before the slug from the other weapon splinters the bark right next to his head. As he turns his face and shuts his eyes, protecting them from the wooden fragments, he hears the creature scream out.

“AAH! God damn it!!”

Dean’s eyes widen as he feels the tree trunk against his back. No fucking way. Impossible. Yet, he knows that voice, he knows it way too well. The hunter carefully peeks from behind his cover. “Uh-oh.” “What?” David whispers, scared. “What is it?” “This is far worse than a wendigo or a skinwalker,” Dean comments under his breath, after which he puts on a louder voice. “Zoë?” A short silence follows as it seems to sink on their opponent who she just had a face-off with. When the realization hits, hell breaks loose. “Dean Winchester, you fucking ASSHOLE!!” Zoë curses.

She has her arm clamped over the area where Dean just unleashed the insides of his shotgun. The agonizing injury has her coughing, the wind knocked from her lungs just moments earlier. Zoë has never been shot with rock salt before and although she knows it won’t kill her, it’s certainly not a pleasant experience.

“You two know each other?” David assumes, surprised by this unexpected development. “Unfortunately, we do,” Dean comments. “You fucking SHOT me!!” she cries out, infuriated.

Dean grimaces, cowering at her harsh tone; he’s dead meat. He just fired a gun at Zoë Sullivan and actually managed to hit her. He’s not sure if he will live to tell the tale. Then he remembers the little prank she pulled on him in Paragould. As his facial expression changes, he glares around the tree.

“Well, you deserved it!” he shouts back, a part of him regretting his words the moment he pronounces them. “WHAT did you just say to me?!” Zoë returns, in disbelief. “You wrecked Baby!” Dean argues. “Baby? What are you… Oh, you have got to be shitting me!” she snaps, frustrated. “You shot me over a fucking car?!” Immediately, Dean’s eyes widen and he scoffs, insulted. “It’s a--” “- ‘67 Chevrolet Impala,” the huntress interrupts. “Big fucking deal!” “You know what’s a big deal? You shot me too, back in Rochester. With a real bullet!” Dean counters.

Another pause follows, the quiet moment allowing her ragged breaths to be audible. Dean can hear her cough and groan. Shit, she’s in a lot of pain.

“Zo?” “Yeah?” she moans. “Sorry.” The huntress huffs. “You will be when I’m done with you.” “You’re not gonna shoot me, are ya?” Dean questions, before he dares to come out of hiding. “No, I guess we’re square,” she sighs.

Dean appears from the shadows while Zoë tries to crawl up, her forearm still tightly pressed against her chest. Seeing her on the ground has the older Winchester sibling fasten his steps towards her. He offers his hand, and when she glares at him she notices the concern in his eyes, despite the dim light. Reluctant, she places her palm in his and allows him to pull her in an upright position, after which the hunter crouches down next to her.

“You alright?” he checks, peeling her warm coat away. “Had worse,” Zoë croaks, clearing her throat with difficulty. The winter coat she’s wearing has cushioned the rocksalt somewhat, but bruising is already evident, blood surfacing through her skin. “Shit,” he cusses, his voice laced with guilt. “David, give me some light, will ya?”

Perplexed, the huntress looks past Dean at the young guy who pulls a torch from his backpack. She assumed the tall figure behind the hunter was Sam, since the two siblings are so unhealthily co-dependent on each other. Zoë snaps her head back to face the older Winchester brother, then hints at David. “You brought him here?”

Before the hunter can answer her, the flashlight flips on, its rays exposing the state the woman before him is in, silencing him instantly. A blood splatter has painted her neck and chin with red, her brow and temple badly bruised. Crimson has dripped down from her forehead and dried into her pores, a cut on her cheekbone is still bleeding. No way in hell that a bit of rock salt caused that.

Dean gapes at her. “Jesus, Zo. What the fuck happened?” “I got into a little fight,” she admits carelessly. Not satisfied with that answer, he sternly stares into her eyes. “With what?” “Doesn’t matter,” she mutters, pushing herself off the ground, half accepting Dean’s support when he helps her. “I still can’t believe you dragged the kid with you.” “He needed a guide,” David answers before Dean does. “I thought you were with Wildlife Services?” Confused, Dean shifts his attention from Zoë to David and back. “You talked to him?” “Of course I did. You think I would work a case without a background check?” she snaps, pulling herself loose from the hunter’s grip once she’s on her feet. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean now asks David. “I didn’t think it was relevant. I had my statement taken by several people. How was I supposed to know that she’s a hunter too?” the young guy excuses. Now it’s Zoë’s turn to Dean in shock. “You told him?!” she cries out. “He deserved to know, Zoë,” Dean defends. “He deserves to live and so do you,” she returns firmly. “The both of you need to get off this mountain. Now.” “No, not without my family,” the brave teenager states, determined. “You’re no good to them dead, David. Believe me, you will end up the same way as your father and sister if you don’t go back,” she lectures.

Confused, Dean watches the exchange, unsure what Zoë’s words could mean. “For fuck's sake, Zo. What are you hunting?” “It’s taken care of, but you two need to leave. Now!” she replies firmly. “You can come back for your family’s remains, I promise you that. But not tonight, unless you want to suffer the same fate.”

Her brown eyes bore deep into David’s. Her promise is sincere, but so is the warning. A pressing expression strengthens her words, convincing him to listen. There is something about her that forces David to understand he must do what she tells him to. He looks from one hunter to the other, then he nods as he swallows apprehensively. “Okay,” he agrees. “Here, take this with you,” she hands him an amulet. Dean recognizes it as the demon protection necklace Zoë stole from his trunk back in Rochester. When he took the pendant back, he was sure he had left it in the trunk of the Impala, but she must have snatched it again when he wasn’t looking. Why would she need the enchanted jewelry? What is hiding in these woods that the amulet would work on? Demons? But that doesn’t fit the leads at all. Wanting to get a grip on the situation, the hunter tries to read her, but Zoë gives him nothing.

“Run and don’t look back”, she tells David. “And the gun?” David gives the man who accompanied him on this quest a wondering look, the 9mm Glock burning behind his waistband. “Keep it. Might come in handy,” Dean insists, also handing him a card from his pocket. “This is my brother’s number. When you get back to the village, give him a call and he will help you.” “You’re going with him,” Zoë decides strictly. The older Winchester sibling glances from David to the injured woman. Her breathing is still elevated, but her gaze is as penetrating as ever. Dean doesn’t back down, though, his green eyes are as piercing as she has ever witnessed them. “No, I’m not.” The huntress rolls her eyes skyward, trying to tie down the anger that is building in her stomach. Now is not the time for the hunter to fight her, yet she has to convince him fast before they run out of time. “Dean, listen to me--” “I’m not gonna bail,” he makes clear, his father’s orders in the back of his mind. “You are not part of this case,” Zoë hisses, suppressing her rage. But Dean doesn’t falter. “I am now.”

The smart woman who has made quick-thinking her middle name, turns away from him, her hands moving to her head, fingers raking into her brown locks. When she swings back around to face him, he sees a desperation in her stance he has never witnessed before. “For fuck’s sake, Dean! Listen to me for once! If you stay, you will DIE!!” she cries out, retreating her hands from her hair and gesturing wildly.

The complete change of demeanor stuns Dean. Trying to unravel her odd behavior, he watches her, noticing the shimmer in her eyes when the moonlight catches them. It starts to dawn on him that she’s not sending him away because she doesn’t want his help. There is so much more at stake than just pride.

“I don’t want your blood on my hands, Dean,” Zoë continues, her voice much softer now. “Please, just… Please go.”

Compared to her harsh words a moment ago, these come out as a pleading whisper. He could have sworn he heard a tremble, her words laid thick with fear and sadness. Nothing about this picture seems right. Could it be that the mighty huntress is actually scared?

It only fuels Dean’s determination to remain by her side even more. His green eyes turn softer, a mix of comfort and compassion filling them. “I’m not leaving you alone on this one, Zo.”

She breathes out a shuddering sigh, admitting the loss. It’s not often that it happens, but Zoë doesn’t argue further. The commitment in his tone, the way he’s looking at her right now, she knows that a nation’s army couldn't change his mind. David seems to realize it too, because he steps back and intends to leave. “Good luck,” he wishes them.

Both Dean and Zoë give him a nod, after which he disappears into the darkness of the forest. When he’s out of sight, the remaining hunter turns back to Zoë. She can’t look at him, aware that she has already lost the battle and that Dean has sealed his fate. She and the older Winchester brother might not get along, but this is not what she wishes for him. Now that he chose to stay, he chooses to die. Not okay with this in the slightest, she shakes her head and looks down at the icy soil at her feet.

“You shouldn’t have followed me, Dean,” she sighs, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I didn’t,” he returns, truthful. “Oh, come on,” she scoffs. “How else would you explain that you end up here on the--” “Dad sent me.”

Stunned, she looks up, his words a complete shock to her. Several questions start to swirl inside in her mind. John? John sent him here? How did he even know she would be on this mountain? On this exact spot? And why would he send his son on a suicide mission?

“Why in hell would he jeopardize your life?” she counters, frustration and fury thick in her tone. “Maybe because he thinks yours can be saved,” Dean brings to mind. Zoë chuckles and turns away from the Winchester son who bears such a resemblance to his father, taking a couple of steps away from him while she tries to wrap her head around the situation.

“Is that funny to you?” he questions, hostile, her cynical laugh rubbing him the wrong way. “It is, because last time I checked, saving my ass is about the last thing your old man wants to do,” she returns, venom in her voice.

Her acquisition puts John’s son off once again. He has noticed her disrespecting and aggressive attitude towards his father several times before and he can’t resist continuing on that matter this time. “What the fuck is your problem with my father?” he asks defensively. “Can we please not do this? Not now,” she intervenes, seemingly tired, after which her gaze wanders. “You shouldn’t have come.”

Dean observes her intently, unable to comprehend what is happening. Zoë Sullivan who doesn’t want to pick a fight? That’s a new one. Her choice of actions alerts Dean, even frightens him a little. However, nothing will ever make him reconsider the decision to stick around. Dad gave him a job to do and finding the huntress here, clearly in deep shit, can’t be a coincidence. He approaches Zoë, forces her to look him in the eye by gently gripping her shoulders and turning her to face him.

“Zo, what are you hunting?” he asks, emerald greens staring at her. “I’m not hunting, Dean,” she answers, her voice only having a fraction of its usual strength. “I’m ending this.”

In the far distance, a church bell rings. Startled, Zoë snaps her head to the side, staring into the direction of the valley as the single carillon chimes. Midnight is here.

Three… four… five…

Time becomes valuable when it runs out. This is it. This is the moment she has feared for exactly one year now. This is the moment that she has to pay her dues.

Seven… eight… nine…

“Zo?” Dean tries to call her back, hoping to get her attention, but she has shut herself out. The woman before him is identical to the girl he met four years ago, when she was possessed and the carpet got pulled from under her. Panic and fear swim in her eyes and tears begin to pool just above her bottom eyelashes. Unable to respond, she listens to the sounding of the bells, pulling in irregular breaths. She’s on the verge of breaking down.

He isn’t sure how to handle her, the huntress who has seen so much evil and has endured so much pain. She never gives in to fear, never wavers, never gives up, until now. And still, Dean doesn’t have a clue what is going on, but he is starting to fear the worst himself.

Gently, he slides his hands down her arms until he’s holding her by the wrists, tightening his grip to get her to look at him. Finally, Zoë turns her head and stares back, teardrops coming down her bruised and bloody face. Despite the lack of light, he can see them glisten with sorrow.

Ten… eleven…

Then the last call of the church bell echoes through the valley. It feels like the drums stop right then and there and the floor is about to disappear from under her, which will force the seemingly unbeatable huntress to fight the noose. Her entire form trembles under Dean’s touch. She can barely say a word, because she knows they will be one of her last. And so she whispers the most fragile, truthful, and frightening message that has ever left her lips, only for him to be heard.

“I’m so sorry.”

Dun-dun-dun! Hope you enjoyed the cliffhanger. Feel free to rant about after the read. Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, ��you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part six here

45 notes · View notes

starr-fall-knight-rise · 5 years ago

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Medical Instruction Vd 1″

First day back at school, so forgive me for being short :)

“Before we get started, I just wanted to make sure that it is known that all parties involved in these videos have agreed to let me use their footage for training purposes, though they may not be used for anything else in accordance with Human Medical Privacy Laws. These tapes will go directly to the intergalactic college of interspecies biology and medicine. Those who are found to use this footage in any way contrary to its original purpose will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law”

The camera turns on shaking form side to side over the floor spinning quickly from the right and then to the left before finally leveling out on an image of a hallway. The Vrul scuttles along the floor with great purpose small fleet clattering against the cold metal. He turns to look at the camera, “I just got a call up the Medical bay for a human in significant respiratory distress also complaining of chest pain, so we are going to head up there and see what is going on. Now I have been the operational medical officer aboard this ship for a while now, and I have seen almost everything there is to see. Doing medicine for humans is…. Well it’s a wild ride simply because of their combination of durability and breakability. They break horribly easily and in horrific ways, but are able to live through it when they do, and that leaves it up to the medical staff to make sure that they are quickly treated so that the shock of their injuries doesn’t send them down the road of you know…. Not being alive.”

They hurried up a hallway following after the little doctor pausing for a few seconds before the medical bay doors which opened with a hiss. A wave of sound washes over the camera, people talking and someone breathing rather heavily. The camera pans up to show a group of humans gathered around a third sitting on the edge of one of the hospital beds. They are breathing fast and heavy a hand on their chest eyes wide panicked.

The crowd opens up as the little doctor walks in.

“What do we have?”

“30 year old male with racing heart, difficulty breathing, tingling hands, dizziness, and chest pain.”

The human was breathing even harder now looking around frantically, “I….I….I’m dying….. I think I’m having a heart attack…..I can’t breathe.”

“Alright, let’s get an EKG going first thing.” The little doctor gets to work very quickly all four arms working as he begins to speak, “Now the obvious worry here is the case of chest pain, which in humans can be an indication of a heart attack. Now the heart is a very major organ in a human, and acts as a pump to move blood around the body. The blood contains oxygen and infection fighting cells etc. With a heart attack one of those little vessels in the organ is blocked, usually by plaque or fatty deposits causing death in parts of the heart muscle. Now this human is generally too young and too fit for any of that to happen…” He turns to the human, “Is there a history of heart attack or heart disease in your family?”

The human shakes their head.

“Has this every happened to you before?”

Another head shake.

The doctor ripped off a couple of sticky white circles and attached them to the human’s chest, “Now this will give us a good look of what is going on in there.” There was a pause for a minute as they continued working.

The doctor glanced at the instruments once the information began coming in, “Alright, so this is good news, the heart IS beating fast, but there does not appear to be any blockage, and it is not fast enough to be considered tachycardia. Also their blood oxygen level is within acceptable range meaning that it isn’t likely to be some other issue. Now that leaves our post likely option as being a panic attack.”

He walked over to the human to get their attention, “Do you have a history of anxiety disorder in your family?”

“A few …. Uncles.” He panted, “But it has to be…. A heart attack.”

“Well your heart is actually fine. I think in this case you ARE having a panic attack, now you are alright, this can happen to anyone not just people with a disorder, ok. Now just humor me, and I and I want you to take in one big breath counting to seven, hold it for five and then blow out at five seconds.” The human looked very skeptical, but at the order of the doctor they began.

He left the instruction to one of the other attendees, “You see, this is actually quite common in humans. Emotional functions are very closely intertwined with their physical functions mostly due to their greatly superior fight or flight mechanism. Humans have a very quick physical reaction to panic that causes the heart to beat faster, digestion to shut down and the pupils to dilate. The breathing will also speed up as you have seen. The problem is the human body reacts to the stress of being chased by a predator in the same way it reacts to, social stress, or an approaching deadline.

In this cause stress, and an elevated heart rate could have trigged a panic attack, where the body is having these physical symptoms despite the brain, and now they are trying to figure out an explanation. They generally assume they are having a heart attack or that something else horrible is about to happen, even if it is not.

He turned back to check on the human, whose heart rate had gone down a bit. They were looking a little better, but there still seemed to be a way to go.

“We are just going to have him continue this breathing exercise which is designed to activate the parasympathetic nervous system and calm down the feelings of anxiety and panic. I always find it interesting that the one thing that makes humans the best and dealing with extreme stress, is also the one thing that makes them crumble under more mild states of stress.

***

“So we have been called in again this time, we have a 25 year old male presenting with, extreme abdominal pain, vomiting, nausea, and a low grade fever.” The doctor walked in wearing more protective gear than he had last time. The camera pans up to another human lying on one of the beds curled into a ball moaning, face screwed up in pain, hands clutched around his middle rocking slowly back and forth in a writhing sort of way. One of the other doctors had placed a metal bowl by the human’s head as they groaned.

The doctor moved forward and had the human roll onto his back, though the human did not seem as if he wanted to. The alien doctor listened to the human’s innards, and then began lightly pressing on the abdominal cavity. As soon as he did, the human yelped in pain and curled up again looking as if he was about to be sick.

“Abdominal pain in the lower right quadrant, I would wager to say this is probably a case of appendicitis.” The doctor motioned for one of the orderlies to grab a machine and roll it over, “Now the human appendix is a part of the intestines that was long thought to be useless or a vestigial structure that humans used more when they had to clear large amounts of plant material through their digestive tract. In many cases it acts as a blind pocket that sometimes collects bacteria and then becomes inflamed. You CAN fix it with antibiotics, but the general consensus is removal.” He pulled the machine into position, using a short wand covered in cold gel to pass over the human’s skin just above the problem spot.

“Ah, just like I thought, you see that right there.” He pointed to the screen, “This right here is the inflammation being caused by the infection, and the reason that the human is going to be in so much pain right now. I would suggest at this point that we just go in and remove it with a simple laparoscopic appendectomy. As far as procedures goes, this one is actually relatively easy and should take no more than a few minutes for me to perform. Now before you go questioning me about the time frame for this surgery, I do remind you that I am the most experienced surgeon in the galaxy. I guarantee the prep for this surgery will take longer than my ability to actually preform it.”

The human groaned.

“Don’t worry, we will have you fixed up almost immediately.”

***

“I find that there are a few general things you want to look for when treating humans. The first big one is energy level. Your average human is going to be very…. Sharp you will see it in the eye and head movements, they will, or should be very energetic with their head and arm movements, especially around the chest and shoulders. Humans like using their hands to talk. A lot of the time you can tell something is wrong with a human when they are listless and slow to respond. You may see their eyes wandering and they won’t focus on you, now some humans behave that way, but your average human will generally try to make eye contact with you at some point. Watch to make sure they are supporting their own heads, or does it seem to be bobbing or tilting in one way or another. A few other things is a general change in appetite from what is considered usual. A stressed or sick human may eat too little or too much. If your human appears confused or is having trouble answering simple questions, you will want to check them over straight away. As I said before, a sick human might appear listless, lethargic, they will tend to sleep a lot, and they may be irritable. I would make it a point to warn most students about that fact when dealing with humans, sometimes in cases of serious injury humans tend to act in anger to pain, so they might try to fight you off or to get away, especially if the pain is really bad, they are sort of resorting back to their more baser instincts. Occasionally you may have to strap them down, or even sedate them , while there are a few humans who like comfort when they are in pain, there is a large group of them who do not like to be touched or talked to when they are. I would say that is also an important thing to note, both psychological and physical pain can cause a human to isolate themselves form you, so just make sure you are watching for those signs because they can be indicators that something is seriously wrong.”

488 notes · View notes

arsonistslut · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 15: A false truth

Meanwhile, Jeff lay awake in his hospital bed. He didn't even properly feel angry anymore, or sad, or..anything. He just felt numb. He was getting a hair transplant, but the doctors wouldn't be able to perform proper plastic surgery until a good year or so, so natural healing of his wounds was the only viable option. His parents hadn't visited once, so he had only the staff to keep him company. Whenever one of the nurses came to change his bandages, as was procedure, he could see the look of pity in her eyes. His burns were horrific to look at, he assumed, but not once did he ask to see his own face.

When they put him under for his hair transplant, the demon, apparently calling itself "Zalgo" when asked, had returned to that space they'd talked in before. The same dark corner, red swelling around Zalgo's presence like a plague. Last time Jeff was here with the demon, he took it's hand and pledged bloodshed upon the world..but now he was second-guessing his decision.

"...How do you know Liu hates me, Zal? I mean..he could be in therapy, for all I know! He doesn't hate me, he can't..I'm his brother.."

"He sure is getting therapy.."

Zalgo reached toward one of the walls and swiped over it, opening a sort of..one way window to the sight of Liu and Natalie, gazing at the stars together, Nat running her fingers through Liu's hair as he curled up in her arms like a cat.

"He's forgotten about you, Jeff..remarkably quickly. Another thing.."

Jeff then saw into earlier in the day. Liu was talking to Randy, the kid that set him on fire, and apologized to him. Did it all mean nothing to him...? Did all the times they helped each other, the bond they had, the fact that his brother was rotting in a hospital and was going to be for a year mean nothing to him?

"A reminder, Jeffrey..he's doing this on purpose. They all do, all the couples at school that see a lonesome soul like you with nobody to go to prom with, your family that irrationally hates everything you do and paints you as a monster, the police who arrested you, mocked you for your disorder, they think it's funny. This world hates people like you, and it won't stop beating you down until you're dead."

Chapter 16: Fresh meat

Keith smirked as he saw the new girl with the black-and-red stockings pass him by in the locker. Nina Hopkins, another transfer from 9th grade. She was what you would call the "alt-girl", and if the rumors were true, had similar issues that Jeff kid had. Keith taps his friend Troy's shoulder, and the two follow her as she heads outside to eat her lunch.

"Hey! Where ya goin', anorexic?"

Nina turned to look at the boys who followed her outside, sighing as she ignored them and muttered to herself.

"Same shit as before.."

"What is it, Jeff? You finally got that sex change?"

"Jeff? who's Jeff?"

"Oh, right, that's your 'dead name'. Sorry, nInA!"

Randy saw the two outside, approaching and looking at the situation. At this point, Troy and Keith were hardly people he wanted to associate with anymore. He didn't want to bully people anymore, to hurt anyone else with these two dopes.

"C'mon, you two. We've got bigger fish to fry."

"What? We're just..introducing her to the neighborhood."

"We're going."

"You her boyfriend or something?"

Randy approached Keith, looming over the ginger with a subdued anger in his eyes.

"Maybe I should beat your fucking ass, Keith. Teach you your fair share of respect."

When his "friend" stepped back in surprise and fear, Ellsworth couldn't help but feel just a little bit satisfied with himself. Damn, that felt good.

"Alright, I'm coming..Jesus."

When the three left, Nina, who was just..caught up in all of this, looked on in confusion as she took a bite out of her sandwich.

"Sheesh..who is this Jeff kid, anyway? Heh, maybe I could buy some drugs or something off of him."

She joked to herself, the rest of school carrying on without incident.

Chapter 17: Breaking away

It was the same walk home as usual. The same cool air, the same autumn leaves flowing through the wind, the same desolate suburbia that New Orleans had become. Liu passed the Wallace Street sign that signaled the closeness of his house, his hands interlocked with Natalie's. He was about to cross the train tracks, but then he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Liu fuckin' Woods. How the hell've you been, little man?"

Keith Winchester. Alone. With a baseball bat.

"This is the same street your brother attacked me on. Poetic, ain't it?"

Liu felt that he wasn't gonna get out of this without violence, but he didn't expect this kid, who from what he remembered hearing, had a pretty cushy life, was going to try and attack him and Nat, of all people with a baseball bat. It was metal, too, so he had to have gotten it from his dad or something. Natalie was more annoyed than frightened, however, and began walking toward the bully.

"Oh, you think you're-"

What came next horrified Liu; the awful sound of aluminum striking flesh full force rang out as Keith bashed her upside the head with his weapon. Liu's conscious quickly gave way to let Sully in, and he charged at Keith, who raised the bat above his head to strike Liu down as well, but a hard punch to the gut quickly doubled the boy over. Sully quickly followed up by grabbing Keith's ears and headbutting him, knocking him to thee ground in a daze. Liu felt like he was outside of his own body, just..watching it all unfold. Sully grabbed the baseball bat and struck Keith in the ribs, then again in the shoulder, again to his ribs. A strike to his ankle came next, causing Keith to cry out in pain louder than before. Sully then heard the loud bells of a train arriving and grabbed Keith's leg, grabbing him and then throwing him down against the tracks, placing a foot against his back so he couldn't escape. The train grew closer and closer, the panic of the situation began slowly rushing back to Liu, as Natalie's voice called out to him;

"LIU, NO!!"

Suddenly, Liu regained control, and before the train could kill Keith, he pulled him out of the way of the speeding train, the shock on his face mirroring his. Keith limped away as Natalie rushed over to Liu's side.

"Liu, what the hell was that?! You nearly killed him!"

"I-I don't know, I just..s-snapped!"

"...I've never seen you that..angry, before..that scared me, Liu. It's like..you were a different person."

"I...I guess it was.."

"C'mon, I'll be fine. He hits hard, goddamn it..you got an ice pack or something?"

Liu grabbed an ice pack from his backpack and gently pressed it up to his girlfriend's face, half of him internally cursing himself for not killing that Keith motherfucker for hitting Natalie, and the other just happy that this whole event was over and done with.

3 days passed, and Keith hadn't gotten any better. He could tell Randy was about to split, and Troy..Troy was as dopey as he usually was, that relentless apathy toward all the cruelty and the violence, it was disturbing at times. Still, Keith had agreed to drive the three out to this junkyard he frequented, helped him separate from the outside world. They'd decided that a couple of good-for-nothing cars in an abandoned junkyard would be the perfect tourniquets for their frustrations, and Keith's father played lots of baseball, so they had weapons to use in such..venting. Troy and Randy were having a fair bit of fun there, making crude jokes and smashing old cars to pieces, but Keith was busy letting out all of the frustration, the anger he had for the Woods brothers and what they'd done to him. The car he was smashing apart was nearly about to collapse on it's own as Winchester screamed curse word after curse word, striking the derelict with hit after hit. Once he was finished, he noticed the two other teenagers looking at him. Troy looked amazed at what his friend did, whilst Randy just seemed...concerned.

"Are..are you alright, dude?"

"No, I'm not alright!! Jeff, Liu, those two fucks have been on my mind ever since the shit with the forest happened! Everybody thinks I'm a fucking weakling, thanks to those two! Well, news flash, I am NOT a weakling!!"

"Keith, we'll get those two eventually, alright? They've hurt you, and that means they hurt all of us. Nobody hurts us."

"Right..they're the bigger fish you mentioned when you pussied out over that Nina girl, right?"

"I didn't pussy out, Keith! We need to get after those shitters and not after some weird 17 year old!"

"You..You lie through your teeth, don't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You left your journal in my car, Randall. I decided to pore through it, and what do I find? Page after page of you whining about us, saying you want me and Troy gone from your life! We were friends!"

"People change, Keith, and I changed. A-After that fire, I realized that it was wrong..all of it was wrong! This bullying shit, it isn't okay! We're making other people feel like shit for our own enjoyment, that's sick!"

Randy let out an exasperated sigh as he sat on the roof of a car, clasping his hands together as he searched for the sort of words he thought could properly express how he's changed. Maybe his story would..resonate with Keith. Troy let out a small chuckle as he laid on a car hood and watched the drama unfold.

"I've never been the best with expressing myself, Keith. People would get mad at me when I said some shit that pissed them off, I didn't have a goddamn clue as to how I was supposed to talk to people. That's why I started all of this, why I started bullying people. People didn't really like me, but it was for a reason I could understand for once! But, now..after I lit Jeff on fire, it just doesn't seem worth it anymore."

"Oh, that's why?! You can't fucking talk right?! Randy, I've gotten arrested for you, you know that?! I took the fall for you for those vandalism charges when we set that old shed on fire, and was because you apparently had a fucking speech impediment."

"Keith, calm down-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!"

Randy just shook his head as Keith stormed away, snatching his baseball bat out of Randy's hands. Troy soon got up and followed, looking Ellsworth dead in the eyes as he passed him.

"You suck some off, y'know that?"

"And you swallow, prick."

Once Keith and Troy left, Randy smiled to himself, something he hadn't done ever since the incident. It was like a giant weight had been lifted from his chest, so after taking in the bliss of being free of those two, he stood up and began heading home. He'd finally broken away from those two.

#creepypasta #liu woods #jeffery woods #jeff the killer #sully #tw so much bad shit happens that i cant even list it

2 notes · View notes

thelastfoundobjects · 3 years ago

Text

Grievances

"Two weeks' notice is at least what is needed for such a large transaction, Mr. Fisher," Elsa expressed.

"Well, Elsa, I'm fully aware of the procedure that usually goes into these types of transactions. I mean, this isn't my first rodeo." Fisher joked.

Mr.Fisher then became serious in his demeanour. "However, I really need this done ASAP. So if there is any way that you can speed up the process, that would be highly appreciated."

Elsa felt a lump in her throat. This was her first big-ticket client after being promoted from business analyst to Account Manager. She was utterly clueless as to how to navigate such a heavy demand. Elsa wanted to follow procedure and regulations; however, this client seemed accustomed to having the rules bent for him. Elsa was conflicted. Should she keep the client happy and bend company compliances? Or stick to the values that the company trained her with and stand her ground? She wondered and then spoke out.

"Mr. Fisher, I completely understand that this needs to be an emergency for you; however, how about we come to some sort of agreement or understanding. Let me just take a couple minutes to step outside of the room and office and speak with my senior manager. It'll take 10 minutes maximum, and I can get back to you with whether or not we can complete this transaction for you within a shortened time frame. How does that sound, Mr. Fisher?" Elsa asked. She could see Fisher's eyes glaze. Elsa could feel this conversation about to take a very nasty turn.

"Sweetie, Elise? Or Elsa it is?" Fisher asked Elsa in a frosty tone.

"Yes, Elsa. It is as if you did not hear what I said, or you are having a hard time comprehending me because, at this point, I'm getting a little frustrated here. I know that you're new on the accounts, and we may not have built up a rapport yet. However, I never had this much trouble making a transaction when Daniel was my account manager. In fact, I've noticed that you ladies always seem to have the issue," Fisher barked.

In turn, Elsa jumped up from her seat and positioned herself into a wide stance. She then leaned over and placed both pointer fingers on the cold boardroom desk to get closer for Fisher to hear her.

"No, actually, Mr. Fisher, it is you that seems to have a hard time understanding here. It is one thing that you call me around the clock and are constantly scheduling impromptu meetings. What I will not tolerate is your clearly misogynistic attitude and your rather condescending tone towards me. I am fully competent, and I know how to do my job and if you have an issue with it, sir, quite frankly, you can kiss my (insert three-letter word here)," Elsa snapped back.

Elsa and Mr. Fisher stood there, staring at each other in awkwardness. After a few seconds of cold, still, uninterrupted silence, Fisher bolted out of the boardroom in a fit of anger.

Only then had Elsa realized what she had just done.

1 note · View note

miss-smrxtiee · 4 years ago

Text

-Forgetfulness-

Ch.2- The Forgotten and the Lost.

The Elementalists AU

Beckett Harrington x f!MC (Ellie Valentine)

Summary: An incident causes Ellie to loose her memory, what lengths will Beckett and the Pend Pals go to to ensure her saftey?

Warnings: none really, memory loss and “kidnappin’”

A/N: Memory loss AU

Tag list:

@vampireblissblog @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @holystxne @oofchoices @kinkypot @choicesstan1 @sophie-and-shizuku @herarmoredheart if you would like to be added just lmk!

I unfortunately do not own these characters I only own Ellie, my MC.

Masterlist -series masterlist there as well.

——————————————-

Beckett’s POV.

Panic settles as Beckett frantically searches the room, not even Alma and/or The Dean are here.

W-what?!? Where did she go? Did they take her? They promised not to keep secrets but this doesn’t seem okay...

Becket speed walks to the desk and asks the nurse about the situation.

“I’m sorry sir but we can’t give out information unless you are specifically in her emergency contact list.” The nurse replied. Beckett sighed, running a hand through his hair before nodding and going back to the lounge room where the Pend Pals where waiting for updates.

“Sh-she’s gone.” Beckett says, panting from running up the stairs. They all look at him with confused looks.

“Whose gone?” Atlas asks standing up narrowing her eyes.

“...Ellie?” She guessed. Beckett could only nod.

“Where the hell is she?!?” Zeph said, putting the ping pong paddles that he and Griffin where playing with away.

“I just knocked on the door and I heard nothing and walked in to absolutely nobody there, the lights where on and the covers where thrown over so something must’ve taken her.” Beckett explained, still in shock himself. He ran a hand through his hair again before speaking.

“I asked the nurse and she said only emergency contacts could be given information.” He explained further while Atlas perked up.

“I’m on the list, she had me put on during the summer.” Atlas quickly said before walking out to the stairwell. The others just shrug and follow behind.

They reach the desk and the nurse turns her attention to the group.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The nurse politely asked.

“Can you tell me any news on my sister? I’m on the emergency list.” Atlas said briefly before the nurse checked and nodded.

“It looks like Ms. Valentine was admitted roughly an hour and a half ago and the Dean requested the equipment for their procedure” the nurse flipped the chart, her eyes scanning over the page before continuing. “And ithe Dean requested more equipment once again about 10 minutes before she was discharged. but it’s strange, it’s not the equipment they would use for the spell the Dean informed us on. They had no help from the nurses per request.”

That’s not strange at all.... Beckett sarcastically said in his head.

“Did they say where they where going?” Atlas’ brows furrowed and you could tell she was starting to get worried.

“I’m afraid not, they didn’t leave through the doors though, they walked to our mirror room down the hall with her over that strange ladies’ shoulder. They also called a code Blue. During that 10 minutes before hand but it seems as though they had it under control.”The nurse answered before resting the chart down.

Wait... code blue? Beckett thought back to that chart in the hallway.

Life Threatening?!?!?

“Did that lady have a red cloak and short brown hair?” Atlas asked tapping her fingers against the flat surface of the front desk.

The nurse nodded and Atlas thanked her before walking away, clearly lost in thought.

“Should we go to the mirror room? Surly you know a spell that could track their magick.” Griffin said while walking up next to her.

“Usually I would say yes but these mirrors are more commonly used by doctors and paitents and it would be harder to track because the magick would be drowned out.” Atlas answered tapping her chin in thought.

Everyone looked up at Beckett who was practically shaking from worry.

“Man, you okay?” Zeph asked clapping his hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, you look like you need a spa day.” Shreya said checking her nails.

Beckett couldn’t believe how calm they where about everything. “Code blue means life threatening! Something could’ve happened to her!” Beckett said. They all looked at him with worried expressions.

“ Alma and Swan rolled her out and discharged her then that means she’s okay.” Griffin stated gesturing to the mirror room.

“How are you guys not worried about this?!? Ellie could be in danger! And how could we trust Sawn after last years ‘incident’ where she didn’t tell us anything for our ‘saftey’” Beckett wasn’t pleased with his friends way of looking at the situation.

“Swan promised us she wouldn’t play anymore games since the whole Raife thing, and she wouldn’t let Alma do anything.” Atlas says back.

“Well wouldn’t they tell us that they where taking us?”

Before any of them could respond...

“ribbit.”

“What was that?”

“blorg.”

Suddenly, Zeph feels a cold goo settle into is scalp and they look to find Tim contently lying atop his head.

“Wait... why isn’t Tim with Ellie?”Shreya asked walking over to stroke the frogs back.

“I’m not sure...” Atlas said deep in thought.

“Maybe Tim can bring us to Ellie!” Beckett said and walked up lifting the slimey pet into his hand

“hey bud, can you find Ellie for us?” Beckett asked the Gorge.

“blug” the frog blinked slowly at the student and looked at him with confusion.

“Here lemmie try and get him to go to the either to find her.” Griffin replied taking Beckett’s place with the frog in his own hand this time.

“Come on little guy, can you go to the either to check on Ellie for us?” Griffin asked

The only response they got was...

“Blurged” Tim’s eyes slowly flutter asleep and they all sigh.

Every instinct in Beckett’s body told him something was wrong but he couldn’t tell what. Ellie was with Alma and the Dean and they all knew they could trust them.

They where on her side after all.

Atlas takes Tim in her hand and starts to examine him and Beckett notices Tim isn’t like himself. He’s more stoic and he’s usually very cheery and bubbly like Ellie but something was off.

“We should go to Professor Kontos...” She says briefly, only to be met by confused faces.

“Why? Professor Kontos doesn’t have anything to do with this.” Shreya exclaimed, clearly starting to worry more.

“Professor Kontos’ class is where Ellie got Tim, right?”

They all nod.

“Well Tim isn’t being himself and if anyone knows how to figure out what’s wrong, it’s him.”

“She has a point” Beckett said tapping his chin and the others agree it was a solid plan and walk towards his office.

Atlas frantically knocks on the greenhouse door to the Professor’s office and the door swings open.

“What on earth is wrong here Ms. Erndhart?” He looks around at your group before turning back to Atlas.

“I need you to check on Tim, he doesn’t seem like himself and I’m worried.” Atlas replied.

“Where is Ellie? It’s her Familiar after al-“

A gasp escapes his mouth before he could finish his sentence.

“What?” They all say in usion as he continues to search the small animal.

He motions you with his finger to join him inside, not breaking his gaze from the frog.

You all walk inside to the various plants and herbs growing inside.

“...Do you mind telling me where Ellie is.”

“She’s uh... with the Dean right now.” Shreya replied trying to avoid the plant that’s attempting to sniff her hair.

“That’s strange...”

“What?”

“It seems as though Ellie has completely lost her emotional and spiritual connection to Tim.”

What??!! Beckett’s confusion and worry skyrocket as he explains.

“This sort of thing only happens if the Owner loses any recognition of the familiar or...”

“Or what?” Griffin demands.

“...or the owner is dead.” He finishes.

“Are you kidding me?!? Ellie isn’t dead, we know that much.” Zeph said walking up and taking Tim to pet his cold skin.

“I’m terribly sorry, but if you so desire, one of you can take Tim as your own until if or when Ellie is able to regain her connection with him.”

“I will.” Beckett said without hesitation.

I will?!

Zeph hands Tim to Beckett and he just stares up at him.

“Blurh.”

Don’t worry buddy, we’ll get Ellie back very soon.

A few minutes prior

Alma & Swan

“Hurry!”

“I’m trying!!”

Alma rushes The Dean to carry Ellie out of her room. Ellie was still unconscious and was completely limp as Swan struggled to carry her.

“Oh here I’ll do it.” Alma doesn’t wait for a response and picks up Ellie and lifts her over her shoulder and starts walking towards the mirror room of the hospital.

“Ok then..” Swan follows, still nervous and clammy. She didn’t know how the Pend Pals would react to this. Alma had convinced her this was for her safety but she didn’t know how this would effect her happiness. The amount of growth she saw in Ellie from the first day to now was a sight for sore eyes. She watched Ellie make wonderful friends and save the world, she didn’t want to make Ellie leave that all but Alma said otherwise. They had preformed that spell last minute and quickly rushed to cover it up. Alma apparently had a plan and now Swan would have to tell everyone a lie to also cover it up.

And who am I to go up against the source of all Blood Magick...

“Evelyn? Did you hear me?” Alma said quirking an eyebrow at her as they stood in front of the mirror.

“Huh?!” She snapped her head towards Alma. “Oh sorry, can you repeat that?”

She sighed.

“I need you to use metal magick to open this to Ellie’s childhood home, I know you’ve been there to check on her as a kid so you should have no problem.” She said.

“Oh, okay.” She answered, to afraid to go against her orders.

Swan walks up to the mirror and starts making small hand gestures to conjure the metal magick into the mirror. Her hands softly glow with a faint grey shine to them as the mirror starts to turn into a picture of Ellie’s bedroom. Swan tests the mirror by placing her index finger on the surface of it. Her finger slightly sinks into it and she nods at Alma before walking through.

The room was quite nice, it had fairy lights hung around the room and the bed laid neatly made in the center of the room with a nice window and desk off to the side. The walls where a pale yellow and there where several pictures and plants decorated around the room. Alma swiftly walks over to the bed and lays Ellie down while Swan closes the mirror.

“Whose there?!” They heard Ellie’s foster mother, Mrs. Valentine calling from outside her door.

“It’s Evelyn.” She answered not wanting to scare her. Swan and Ellie’s foster mother where mutual friends through Theia during their college years and became closer when she and her husband took Ellie in. “We have Ellie in here on her bed and her, uh... friend accompanied us.” She added as Ellie’s foster mother walked in.

“Oh my!” She said at the sight of Ellie. “What happened?!”

“Well, you see Ellie was at a tea par-“

“She got hurt during battle and lost her memory, we need you to keep her here and treat her as if she never went to Pendergast. If she starts to remember things, tell Evelyn.” Alma briefly said.

“Way to be subtle about it...” Swan murmured to Alma while Ms. Valentine looks sadly at her daughter.

“What? She’ll remember us right?” They nodded. “Why can’t you retrieve her memories?? There has to be something!” Mrs. Valentine said walking over to sit on the bed and stroke Ellie’s hair.

“We could, but it would take a week or so for her to fully recover from the side effects and the effects of the spell she was attacked with. That’s why I need her here to heal.” She replied.

“Evelyn?” Her mother quirked a brow at her trying to get a second opinion.

“Uh. Yes, she’s right. It’s for the best.”

The group goes over more details of what she needs to do while Ellie is there and to contact them when she wakes up and how she is feeling. Ms. Valentine nods sadly and they open the mirror to walk back to the hospital.

“What will we tell Atlas and the rest of the group?” Swan questions trying to keep up with Alma’s brisk pace.

“Simply tell them she’s recovering and that they don’t need to worry, it’s none of their business anyway.”

“No you don’t understand, Atlas especially won’t stop there. The rest of her friends are just as concerned to and they won’t stop at ‘it’s not their business.’”

Alma sighed.

“Just figure it out, I blocked the mirrors in Ellie’s house and area after we left so they can’t find her, just tell them she’s safe and don’t say another word.” Alma replied.

Guess I can do that.

“Even though I won’t tell them anything I’m going to avoid them so I-“

“Swan!!” She heard Atlas yell from behind her.

Just lovely...

Beckett, Zeph, And Atlas jog up to the pair with worried expressions.

“Where’s Ellie?” Zeph asked.

“Yeah, you left!” Atlas added.

“Is Ellie safe?” Beckett’s forehead creased as he looked at them.

“I’m uh- I just- she!- I mean.” Swan stutterd

Oh boy, this is gonna be a lot harder than I thought...

Phew! Thank you for reading this weeks chapter, I was in writers block for a few days but it’s here and I’ve started on the next chapter for my mini series Vacationing With Distance so I hope you guys enjoy that as well!

-Sol💖

#choices stories you play #pixelberry #choices #playchoices #incorrect quotes #the elementalists #beckett harrington #for the love of god give me pend pals back please

14 notes · View notes

justfandomwritings · 5 years ago

Text

Urban Legends (Part One - Chris Beck)

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: i don’t think any apply.

Summary: (Y/n) Watney was something of an urban legend at NASA. Commander of the Ares I mission, (Y/n) was the first human to set foot on another planet. She heard names like Neil Armstrong and smirked. She was on her way to being the most famous astronaut in history, and she was determined to bring her brother along for the ride. She recommended Mark to Vincent Kapoor. She helped him get on the Ares III mission to Mars.

Her brother was stuck on Mars because of her, and she was determined to bring him home.

After all, if he was the first human to die on another planet that would thoroughly steal her thunder; and she couldn’t have that.

Notes: This story is being simultaneously posted to AO3 as an OC story if you’d prefer to find that version. Also of note, Beck won’t be in the first few chapters, but I promise its coming.

There’s an urban legend about NASA.

In the 60s, the Soviet Union and the United States were deep into what is now called the Space Race. When the Soviets launched Sputnik 1, the first manmade satellite, Americans were wracked with panic. If the Soviet Union could launch a radio satellite into orbit around the Earth, who’s to say they couldn’t launch a gun?

The space program, NASA, became every Americans top priority. It was a nuclear deterrent, as well as a matter of national pride. If the Soviets had satellites in space hovering over American soil, then America needed satellites in space over Soviet soil. But America couldn’t just equal the Soviet Union; America needed to beat the Soviet Union.

When the first astronauts went into space, Soviet-born Yuri Gagarin beating out American-born Alan Shepard by less than a month for the honor of being the first man in space, they encountered a dilemma.

The ballpoint pen was pattented in the United Kingdom during 1938 as an alternative to the dip pen. It was a simple design. The new pen utilized a cartridge of ink attached to a metal ball over which the ink rolled out, allowing the user to write. There was only one problem. The ink was drawn down and fed out of the cartridge over the ball by nothing but the force of gravity. Meaning, in space, there was nothing to draw out the ink; leaving all modern pens effectively useless.

The United States invested $12 million of its funding into designing a pen that would function in zero gravity.

The Soviets just used pencils.

The truth isn’t quite as amusing as the legend, but it isn’t far off either.

When the United States realized that ballpoint pens were effectively rendered useless by zero gravity, they contracted a company called Tycam Engineering to order a set of 34 mechanical pencils for their next mission. Tycam Engineering charged NASA $4,382… for 34 mechanical pencils. After extensive criticism from the public and within their own departments about the wasteful spending, NASA canceled their order.

The Americans just used pencils.

Eventually, in the late 60s, a privately owned firm called Fisher Pen Company would indeed design a pen that worked in zero gravity. It became known as the Fisher Space Pen. The pen replaced the usual pull of gravity by installing a pressurized ink cartridge that functioned in any environment.

NASA paid $6 per pen for the privilege of writing in ink.

The Soviets paid $8.

(Y/n) tapped her Fisher Space Pen against the edge of her desk.

The amount of work that had been put into this moment, put into her sitting here now, was incalculable. Sure, she could add up the amount of hours she’d put in training. She could find out the amount of time she’d spent out on missions. She could factor in time doing research for her thesis or working on related projects. She could even calculate the opportunity cost of lost wages elsewhere in her field. None of it would give a definitive answer, though.

This moment was so much bigger than her effort and her work, and nothing symbolized that more than her pen. It had a history that went well past her, well past Alan Shepard, well past NASA. This pen spanned the Ares Mission, the International Space Station, Project Apollo, Project Gemini. Every astronaut before her had held one of these pens. The minds at Fisher Pen Company had put hundreds of hours and millions of dollars into designing it, and they had built their work on the minds that came before them.

The Fisher Pen Company could not have pressurized the pen cartridge if countless men and women before them had not perfected the cartridge pen’s design, if the Biro brothers who patented the first ballpoint pen in 1938 had not thought to innovate on the dip pen.

The giants of every field today rested on the shoulders of those who came before, and the Fisher Space Pen was no exception. (Y/n) was no exception.

It might be a bit of a stretch to call Fisher Space Pen a giant, but (Y/n) was self aware enough to know that she, in fact, was a giant.

(Y/n) twisted off the pen cap and set it aside with a deep breath. Eight years ago, in 2027, (Y/n) had picked up the very same pen and signed her name to a contract, and now she was doing it again. She couldn’t decide if she was more impressed that she was back in the chair or that she’d managed to keep track of one pen for eight years.

“You understand the full personal, professional, and legal ramifications of the contract you are about to sign, Miss Watney?”

(Y/n) looked up at NASA’s in-house attorney sitting across from her. He was a feeble man with a bald patch slightly to the right of center atop his head that perfectly matched the shape of the Tycho lunar crater, right down to the tiny tuft of hair that coincided with the peak at its center. They had only met once before, eight years ago, and understandably she didn’t remember him very well.

Back then, he had given her a full lecture, two hours long, about the document she was signing, the commitment it entailed. He’d clearly gone lax this time around. Perhaps he wrongly assumed she remembered any of what he’d said.

She couldn’t even recall his name when she first walked in the door minutes before. Back in 2027, she was practically shaking with the anticipation of putting her name on the dotted line. Back then, he was all that was standing between her and Mars. How could she be expected to pay attention.

“Don’t worry about me, Mr. Levinson.” (Y/n) falsely assured him. “I know what I’m getting myself into. I’ve been here before.”

“That you have,” Mr. Levinson wheezed out a laugh. “I was excited when they told me you would be leading this new program. It’s always good to see some familiar faces on the cover of my cereal box.”

(Y/n) chuckled to herself. Her brother had given her hell for those cereal boxes. Whenever NASA forwarded her inbox along to the Hermes, there were always a handful pictures of Mark with the cereal box strategically placed in various spots (Y/n) should have been.

Her birthday? He put it on the table with a cake in front of it. Family beach trip? He covered it in sunscreen and set it in the sand. Dad’s retirement party? He brought it along to a black tie event tucked under his arm. Mark somehow managed to talk some of the techies into letting him put the box in the seat next to him while he did his takeoff simulations. He even took the stupid thing as one of his personal items into his isolation chamber for 10 days.

Gem that he was, Mitch Henderson had sent along the video of Mark talking to the picture of her on the cereal box cover because, as Mark explained, ‘What? I got bored of talking to myself.’

(Y/n)’s eyes scanned over the contract. She wasn’t really reading it. Mr. Levinson knew that, but she needed to pretend for the sake of protocol. “The cereal box was all Annie. She thinks putting us out there in the public eye will increase awareness of NASA programs, and increased funding will follow.”

“It’s not a bad idea.” Mr. Levinson hedged. “It might be good for kids to have successful, intelligent role models for once.”

Role models. They’d certainly tried to make (Y/n) into one of those. Weeks upon weeks of PR training. It was worse than the actual astronaut program!

...That was probably an exaggeration, but it felt like it.

(Y/n) was the Commander of her mission, the face of the team. A face that was everywhere, and not just for the moment. A face that wouldn’t just be in history books, but would be on the covers of them.

A face that Annie refused to see dropping the f-bomb during any of the over 100 interviews (Y/n) had been expected to do before take off and certainly not during any of the countless hundred she had done since her return.

(Y/n)’s pen paused over the line she was supposed to sign, and a smirk tugged at her lips. “Wait, you were eating the kid’s cereal?”

Mr. Levinson spluttered for a moment, but his embarrassment was saved by the door bursting open.

“Mitch?” Mr. Levinson questioned.

(Y/n) turned when she heard Mr. Levinson say the name. The Hermes Flight Director stood in the office doorway looking absolutely terrified.

A cold chill ran up her spine. He didn’t need to say anything. Mitch’s eyes did all the talking, and she shoved away from Levinson’s desk, ignoring as the lawyer shouted, “Miss Watney, we’re not done here.”

Mitch led her through the halls down into the control room where the usually mild-mannered scientists were in frenzy.

(Y/n) didn’t frequent the NASA control room. Her eight years in the program had mostly been spent in training facilities or research labs, but she’d met the staff working the room before. She knew procedure well enough to know that this was unusual, and something was going very wrong.

“What’s going on, Mitch.” Her tone left no room for questioning.

“We had to scrap the mission earlier today. The winds got too strong. MAV was tipping.”

(Y/n) narrowed in on the readouts scrolling up the side of the screen. The wind speed was far too high. “Have they left the surface yet?”

“They haven’t yet, and the last updates from the communications system indicate the MAV was tilting too far. They were running out of…” Mitch never got to finish explaining the situation to (Y/n).

A crackly voice came over the loud speaker, indicating a transmission from Hermes to mission control. “Hermes, this is Commander Lewis. We have successfully docked the MAV and are beginning to route our return to Earth.”

(Y/n) felt intense relief fill her only to be washed away by sheer horror.

“Mark Watney was hit by debris en route to the MAV… He… He died on impact and didn’t make it to the MAV.”

A loud cry split the air, and (Y/n) only realized it had come from her when pain shot up her knees as they gave out and hit the ground.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Time on... Part Two

Taglist:

Forever Taglist:

@maybe-a-fangurl / @libbymouse / @geeksareunique / @deathbyarabbit / @spilltheearlgrey

#chris beck x reader #chris beck #chris beck imagine #sebastian stan x reader #chris beck fanfiction #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan fanfiction #chris beck x you #chris beck fluff #the martian imagine #the martian fanfiction #chris beck drabble

216 notes · View notes