#she is so monumentally disgusting ok? she is.

[zazikels]

wonderful to see that the "pweease stop [clown shoes SQUEAKING] being so mweaan to mwystwaaa [CLOWN SHOES SQUEAKING INTENSIFIES] its so misogynistic!!!"[CLOWN SHOES SQUE-] movement is in full swing for some fucking reason??

[ereardon]

At Sea [Bob Floyd x Reader]

Chapter 3

Overview: I’ll be home in five weeks. That’s what naval aviator Y/N told her fiance before leaving for deployment in the Atlantic. But time ceased to stop when she met Bob Floyd, the ship surgeon. Shy and honest, Bob quietly slipped into Y/N’s life, creating a complicated dynamic on an already intense mission. Falling for Bob was not in Y/N’s plan, and as she continues to weave a web of lies, she must make a choice: return to the life she left on land, or forge ahead into the unknown with Bob. But before Y/N can decide, disaster strikes, leaving Bob to make the decision that will alter their lives forever. 

Chapter summary: Y/N and Bob have a close encounter that leads Y/N to ponder cheating on her finace

Pairing: Navy Doctor Bob Floyd x Female Aviator Reader

Warnings: Implied emotional cheating, lots of Naval inaccuracies

WC: 1.2K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

You could see Bob the moment you stepped out onto the deck. He had his back toward you, his face gazing out at the dark sea. 

You crept up behind him, one hand on his arm. “Hey.” 

He jostled beneath your touch, kind brown eyes looking down behind wire frames. “Hey there.” 

“So what’s the plan?” 

Bob held out one hand. It was steady, nails trimmed neatly, silver watch fastened slightly loosely at the wrist. “Come and see.” 

You let your fingertips rest in his. There was a moment of hesitation before he started to lead me away from the edge of the deck. You saw the flicker of a question cross his eyes in that moment of hesitation. Wondering if he should kiss you or not. 

You found myself disappointed he didn’t. 

He led you across the ship deck, toward the stern. You passed a few people, their eyes darting between you and Bob, down to your hands. 

At the stern of the boat, you were sheltered behind the funnel. Almost immediately, the wind died down. Your flyaway hairs, which has been whipping at your temples, settled. 

“Why weren’t we meeting here the whole time?” you asked. 

“Good question.” 

“So what’s the game plan?” 

Bob smiled. “Do you always need a plan?” 

“You don’t know me very well, but I’m super impatient, and always in a rush. I’m chronically type A. I hate gum because I think hearing people chew is disgusting. And I'll make you stop every hour on a road trip to pee.” 

He leaned closer. “Nothing you’ve just said has turned me off.” 

“Oh, I know, I was trying to turn you on.” 

Bob laughed, and it was contagious. There wasn’t much laughter on a mission like this. He was a breath of fresh air. 

Below deck, Bob led you through a labyrinth of doors through personal quarters before landing at a door at the end of the hall. He turned the handle. 

Inside, white string Christmas lights had been looped around the ceiling. Pressed against a wall was a bed, but massive, like two standard issues had been shoved together. 

You turned to Bob with eyebrows raised. 

“I thought you might be getting sick of listening to me talk. And you’d rather watch a movie instead.” He walked over to the computer monitor facing the bed, plugging in a jack and forcing the screen to light up. “Our options are limited,” he added. “The Lion King. Hercules, or Shrek.” 

You laughed and took a seat on the edge of the bed. It was monumentally more comfortable than your cot out in the barracks. “Love your taste in films.” 

“You’re a little older than my usual movie-watching companions,” he replied. 

“They’re all classics, don’t get me wrong. But I feel like you can’t go wrong with The Lion King.” 

Bob nodded, inserting the DVD as you slid off your shoes, climbing further onto the bed toward the corner. On the desk, you spotted a bottle of pinot noir, and two coffee mugs.

“Where did you get wine?” 

“I have my ways. Is red OK?” 

“It’s perfect.” 

“Good.” He grabbed the remote and then bent down to untie his shoes. When he stood, he flushed, and you patted the space on the bed next to you. An invitation. 

When Mufasa reached up his paw, and Scar let him fall into the valley, you felt Bob’s breath do a sharp intake. You looked up at him, his eyes rapt on the screen, but a small tear had made its way into the corner of his eye. You looked at him for a beat too long, and then worried that he would catch you staring, you turned your head back downwards. This time, you laid your head down on his abdomen, slinging an arm across him. There was a moment of hesitation before his hand came down on your shoulder, gently resting across your upper arm. 

You stayed like that, cuddled together, until the movie was done. As the credits rolled, it was clear neither of you were ready to untangle yourselves. Thirty seconds passed before you pushed yourself up into a seated position facing Bob. “A classic.” 

He nodded. There was something he wasn’t saying. It was clear from his eyes. 

You scooted closer, until your knees were touching his. “What are you thinking?” 

“That no matter how many times I watch this movie, it never ceases to impress me.” 

“Strong feelings for a Disney movie, but I get it.” 

“I had a patient once,” Bob said. “He was six. His father had just died, and he was dying, too. One day he asked me to watch a movie with him. It was the end of a call shift, so I stayed, and we watched The Lion King. I’ll never forget the way he broke down when Scar let Mufasa fall. And all I could do was hold his hand and tell him it was just a movie. But it wasn’t just a movie. That was his real life. He wasn’t going to wake up the next day and see his dad. He might not even wake up the next day. What do you say to someone like that?” 

You shook your head. “I don’t know.” 

“Nobody does. And that’s what makes it so hard. All you want to do is tell them it’ll get better. But sometimes that just isn’t true.” 

“You do the best you can. That’s all anyone can ask for.” 

Bob was quiet. You reached up, placing both hands on either side of his head, slowly stroking his blond hair. As you started to pull back, his hands shot out and gripped your wrists. “I want to kiss you,” he whispered. “But I won’t.” 

“Why?” You were breathless. 

“Because you deserve a really amazing first kiss. And I don’t want our first kiss to be because you feel bad for me.” 

“That’s not it.” 

He pressed his eyes closed for a second. “Even if it isn’t, you still deserve more.” 

You laid back on the bed. Bob mimicked your movements so you were facing each other. “It’s nice how highly you think of me,” you murmured. “But don’t.” 

“I can’t help it.” Bob trailed his fingers over your hip. “Can I ask you something? And feel free to say no, no matter how pathetic I look.” 

“Anything.” 

He was timid. You could see it in every line across his face. The way his voice shook as he spoke. “Will you stay here tonight? You don’t have to. I promise I won’t try anything. I just really want you here.” 

“Yes.” You said it without hesitation. His smile – soft, quiet, harrowing – was enough to get you to commit murder. Another girl would say no, go back to her bunk, contemplate what she had done to get herself into that position. Another girl, a better girl, would feel guilty.

But guilt felt like a far off whisper. Instead, you were overcome by excitement. It bubbled in your chest. 

Being with Bob made you feel weightless. And that terrified you. 

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary

Tagging some people who I think may like this (but feel free to message me and say you're not interested and I won't tag you going forward!): @blue-aconite @horseshoegirl @clancycucumber230 @kmc1989 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @spinning-away @bvbfloyd @startrekfangirl2233-writes @shanimallina87 @xoxabs88xox @xomrsalliej4787xo @sio-ina-bottle @joaquinwhorres @thedroneranger @callsign-magnolia @sometimesanalice @stargazer-88 @tomanybandstolove @laracrofted @iangiemae @teacupsandtopgun @palepeanutponyshoe @mrsjobarnes @desert-fern @double-j @djs8891 @gigisimsonmars @fanficfandomlove @bobfloydsbabe @katiedid-3 @katieshook02 @na-ta-sh-aa

[painonthebrain]

Good Person

Whumptober Day 30: Holding back tears

Masterlist

Content: Angst, alcohol use, drug use

The party has finally picked up the pace now, full of people and thrumming with their energy, and Sydney couldn’t be having a better time. She’s in her element – breezing from person to person, chatting them up and offering her company in spades, generous and amiable. The whole place glitters and glows, her glowing the most of all. It’s like she has a shine to her, like she gives off her own light, energetic and charismatic and at home with all these strangers, making friends with each and every one of them.

She’s in a group of people, doubled over, leaning back against a chair, face flushed a pretty blue, warm with alcohol and the buzz of the party. She’s running on their energy, fueling her own, feeding it back into the party which then goes back into the loop, endless and joyous. Every part of reality is left behind here, and it’s so wonderful to forget and lose herself.

Eventually, she leaves the group behind, practically sauntering back to her girlfriend after all the mingling, leaving them with nothing more than a smile and a wave. She clutches a red Solo cup in her hands with an inch of liquid left in it. Punch mixed with alcohol. She’d poured enough in to change the taste of it, a disgusting mixture of sweet and bitter that burns going down. It was still pretty tasty though. Fizzy and fruity. It just had a bit of a kick, just how she liked it.

“Oh! Sydney!” Elise’s voice lilts with recognition, and Sydney smiles, coming closer.

“Hey, Ellie. Hope you didn’t miss me while I was over there.” She gestures to the group of partygoers, all laughing and drunken just like herself, still having a good time without her. She has her own laugh, giggling to herself at bits of conversation she remembers from moments ago. “How’s it going?”

Elise’s mouth twists, her lips pressed together. “Can we talk?” She looks uncomfortable, waiting, and Sydney forgets the party, getting closer.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Elise’s lips don’t part. It’s like she’s trying to find the right words, barely being able to grasp them before they slip away from her forever. Like she’s in the middle of a test she didn’t study for but felt prepared she was going to ace. Like she’s forgotten the lines of a play, standing in front of a dead silent audience, sweating under the spotlights and wishing she was anywhere but here.

Something is wrong.

“El?”

“Sydney. I… I need you to listen to me.”

“I’m listening.” She affirms. I’ve got you. You’re ok. But please just fucking tell me what’s going on.

“For real this time.”

Sydney averts her gaze, looking away, exhaling. She takes a moment to keep herself together, then turns back to her girlfriend. “You got it.” She smiles, a forced, artificial thing, just to make her feel better.

“I… don’t really like how this is going.” She starts.

“This?” Can she be more vague? Just tell me.

“God, I don’t know how to tell you this, Syd —” Elise’s voice turns strained. She runs a hand over her face, closing her eyes tight. “I hate doing this. I hate it but I… I don’t think we’re good for each other.” She spits the last part out like it’s poisonous, like it’s going to bite her if she doesn’t get away from it quickly enough.

Sydney’s body is stone-still, frozen. The roles are reversed, and she’s the one who can’t find the words now, her voice trapped in her throat, making feeble attempts to escape, her mind working through the monumental and looming meaning of her girlfriend’s words.

The world seems to come to a standstill, but the party goes on. Everything goes on. The world is still turning, even though it feels like it should be paused on the spot, frozen in the moment.

“I… you’re breaking up with me?” Sydney's voice is low over the droning of people talking and partying, barely audible over the thumping of an ambiguous bassline. Something that matches the beat of her heart, quick and heavy.

“I’m not breaking up with you, I’m just — I need some space. Okay?” Elise says quickly. It’s obviously a lie. She isn’t stupid.

Sydney stares at the woman speaking to her. She’s a beautiful purple-hued woman with Afro puffs, wearing a dress Sydney said she loved when she saw her try it on. But here she almost seems like a stranger, a reflection of her from the mirror, someone else.

She’s beautiful in the dim lighting, eyes shining like Sydney always says they do. They look sad. Sydney almost wants to fix it, but the urge to reach out and hold her has turned bitter already, tainted by wondering what went wrong.

Sydney opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it, grinding her teeth together.

“You’re just not… what I thought you were like when we met.”

Her eyes sting. “Yeah. Okay.” She looks down.

So it’s this again. Meet a girl at a party, break up with her at a party. It always fucking happens. One day she’ll grow a spine and stop falling for it.

“What else is new?”

Elise steps forward. “I’m just saying you’re —”

Sydney snaps. “I know you think I’m stupid but you don’t have to tell me twice, I can get it into my head that you don’t like me!”

“God — if you would just listen—”

She’s already become impassioned, her face flushed an angry purple. “I don’t want to hear it! Just leave me if you want to do it so damn badly!”

Her ex(?) stares at her, incredulous. She takes a moment to think, silent and still, then she reaches out for her. “Hey. Syd.” Her voice is firm. “I think you’re… you’re wonderful, you’re … you are a good person.” She places her hands on Sydney’s shoulders. “I know you don’t think you are, but —”

Sydney looks down. She doesn’t feel like a good person. Not really. Maybe in some funhouse mirror reality but not here. Not like this. Especially not when Elise is treating her like a wild animal.

“But this…” Elise’s voice goes quiet. She doesn’t meet Sydney’s eyes, and it’s such a death sentence she can’t bear to look herself, tearing her eyes away and closing them. Then suddenly she’s leaning away, pushing the other’s hands from her body. They come apart, and Sydney stumbles back, her body arcing with energy, filled with the urge to fight just like that.

“...isn’t right for me.”

There it is.

Sydney breathes in, rough and shaky. The tears behind her eyes threaten to spill out at any moment. There’s nothing left to say that won’t come out shaky and wrong – and her energy turns from hot and violent to cold and sharp, losing her bite – so she nods, quick and silent, brows drawn tightly, then turns away, stepping back and disappearing into the crowd.

The people ebb and flow around her, and the once spectacular and fun company they made becomes suffocating. She can hear her ex call to her distantly, but it goes ignored.

God, this fucking crowd!– Can’t they learn to get out of her way?

She weaves through the people like they’re nothing, shoving them, not caring because they are nothing, she’ll never see them again – and if she does, they probably won’t remember anyway – until she finds an empty room, darkened and quiet.

She lets out a shaky sigh, wiping her eyes because the prickling behind them has intensified during the time she spent pushing past people and… yeah. That. She takes a moment to just let herself breathe, because… God.

She takes a deep breath in —

It stinks like weed in here. Like someone is smoking. …Fuck.

She spins around to look in the direction the smell is coming from and yep – there’s someone in the corner of the room, blanketed by shadows, smoke streaming from a joint, looking up at her.

“Shit, sorry –” She exclaims. “I can leave.”

The stranger watches her with his scarlet eyes, blinking slowly, taking her in for the mess she is. Self consciousness eats at the back of her mind for some reason. He must be so annoyed.

“S’fine.” He seems so oddly unaffected by her presence, and if he is at all, he doesn’t show it.

She lets out a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay, th-thank you.” She grows less tense, leaning against the wall, still trying to calm herself.

He nods and takes a hit, closing his eyes. Sydney watches him as he does, obviously staring, and her eyes dart away when he opens his again. He’s green-hued, with half-circle-like markings on his cheeks and short, chin length hair. There’s a bit of scruff on his chin just like hers. He seems so calm and put together and she wishes she could feed off of his energy now instead of all the crazed, frazzled partygoers surrounding her.

“You good?” He asks after a good, long moment of silence between them.

“Oh — oh, uhh… it’s nothing.” She stares into her cup filled with that nasty mixture of punch and alcohol, the one she’s nearly downed completely. It looks disgusting now. She still takes a few sips though, just to help banish her feelings. It’s always been good at doing that, but she isn’t sure how well it will work with so little left. She can always go back and get more, but she’d rather not run into her.

“…” Sydney grinds her teeth together. “Well, actually —” She starts tentatively, turning ever so slightly towards her company. “Actually, I… it is something.”

He tilts his head, exhaling his smoke. “Hmm?” He hums, and it’s enough of a response that she goes on, encouraged.

“Well, I – I’m at this party, right? And my girlfriend – Hold on, wait, maybe I should start from the beginning.” She says, disorganized and all over the place. Her eyes are distant, staring off at the ceiling as she speaks, clutching the plastic cup like it will ground her during the experience.

“I… go to parties often. I, I don’t know if you do, but I do. It’s to take my mind off of things. Work, mostly. I hate work.” She says it with vehemence, spitting out the word work. “I hate it… ssso fucking much.”

“Yeah. Fuck work.” The man agrees, nodding – and she can’t tell if he’s smiling ever-so-slightly, but it looks like he might be, his expression knowing and wry. 

She laughs a little. Look at that, they both have something in common, and it’s so mundane and basic. Work. Yeah, work sucks so much, haha — it’s just like someone else here to say that.

With that, she realizes she kind of likes him. He’s just so… chill. And a little mysterious-looking. The only thing he’s listening to is her, and it just… feels a little nice.

It’s the type of selfishness she’s been chided for, just interrupting and making things into her own space, but he’s just letting her. So why not take advantage?

“So I have this girlfriend – had her – she… she broke up with me! Can you believe that??

“Maybe she wanted to talk to me afterwards, but… I don’t want to talk to her. She… she made me feel like an idiot! But now she’s rid of me so she doesn’t have to worry about it anymore. I’m not her problem.”

Her company watches her, and his expression seems a little lost, but he gives her a “Mhm.”

Sydney sniffles. It’s so unlike her to just dump her problems on someone like this. Usually she’s drowning them out with drinks until they disappear or she’s alone to wrestle with them in the privacy of her own home. Or in a room she thinks is empty. Funny how things turn out.

“Sorry. I’m a real asshole for venting to you like this, aren’t I?”

He stares, and it seems like he’s thinking of what to say. His brows draw together, and he holds his joint in front of his mouth, in the middle of going to take another hit. Now that she thinks about it, he looks slightly confused. Scratch that, majorly confused.

“Uhh… didja zone out there?” Her voice breaks, with her tears still in her throat despite her tirade and his company.

“No — umm… s’fine.” He says, and he takes the hit immediately after.

“You sure?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead he forces his eyes shut, his mouth closed. He seems… deeply focused. But not on her. His lips are pursed.

“Heyy. Hey. You listening to me?”

He holds his hand up, eyes still closed — then breathes out for a good long while — painstakingly long, in fact — smoke pouring from his mouth, forcing it all out. After getting most of it out, he lets out a tiny cough, then opens his eyes. “Yeah. S’all good. Keep talking if ya want.” He doesn’t really look like he cares, but Sydney doesn’t care either. She looks back down at her cup, now drained of most of her drink. She makes her decision.

“No, I’m good. I should… probably leave now.” She wants to get a good cry out right about now and it just doesn’t feel right to bawl her eyes out in front of this stranger.

“You’re leaving?” The stranger asks, and it’s the most lucid she’s seen him so far.

Sydney doesn’t answer him. “I… I know this is weird, but thanks for listening to me — uhhh, here — here’s my number.” She fishes in her pocket for some paper and a tool to write with and scribbles it down, handing it to him. It’s the least she can do to show she’s thankful — it’s not like she has much else to give.

She turns to leave, but stops herself.

“Oh yeah, uh— what was your name?”

“Hm?” He sounds surprised. “Oh. Um… it’s Saul.”

“Sydney,” she offers in return. “…Thanks, Saul.”

And then she’s gone, returning back to the crowd.

Metamorphosis taglist: @angelphone1

[jerzwriter]

We're Having a Baby... 2/2

Book:                   Open Heart (Post Series)

Pairing:                Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey)

Featuring: Bryce, Jackie, Sienna, Ethan

Rating:                 Teen

Warnings: Pregnancy/Childbirth

Category:            Fluff

Summary:   The gang gathers at the hospital as Casey and Tobias get ready to welcome their little one. But there are still a few issues to work out before Baby Carrick officially arrives.

Words: 2.1 K

A/N: According to my HC, baby Samantha enters the world on 4/20/2023. My goal to have this up by that date was not met, but stuff happens. lol @choiceschallenge-may2023 - baby, holding hands, love

Part 1: Ready or Not

“OK, that’s $5 on Tobias was right… it’s a girl and $5 on time of birth 8:07 PM,” Bryce handed a first-year resident their change with a nod. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Results will be posted in the fourth-floor nurses' station as soon as we have them!”

Jackie shook her head with disgust as an oblivious Sienna nervously paced nearby. “Do you even feel a little guilty sitting out here profiting while our friend is in there pushing a St. Bernard out of a doggie door meant for a tea-cup poodle?”

“Ouch!” Bryce winced. “When you put it that way…. But I’m not profiting. Running illegal gambling, perhaps, but not profiting. 50% of the pool goes to the winner, and the other 50% to the new parents.”

“That’s even dumber!” Jackie balked. “Tobias is loaded! They don’t need the profits! You should give them to me.”

“Well, I kind of will be, wiseass! Tobias told me to divvy their winnings up amongst anyone who bet and still has student debt. So, you’ll get your share.”

“Hmmm,” Jackie grinned, “and just like that, I love this idea. Let me get $5 on birth time of 9:15.”

“Absolutely,” Bryce grinned, tossing a cigar Jackie’s way. “And now we celebrate.”

“This isn’t a cigar,” Jackie protested. “It’s chocolate!”

“So, we don’t smoke? And are you saying we don’t celebrate with chocolate?”

“Good point!” Jackie had barely begun to unwrap the pastel-foil overlay when Sienna rushed her way, knocking the celebratory confection from her hand.

“What are you doing?” Jackie wailed.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” Sienna demanded. “There will be no celebrating until the baby is born, and we know mother and baby are fine! No champagne, no chocolate cigars, NOTHING! Am I clear?”

Shrinking under Sienna’s gaze, Bryce quickly put the box of cigars into his backpack. “Geeze, fine!”

“Chill, Si!” Jackie commanded. “We’re worried about Casey too, but I’m sure she’ll be fine. And this is a monumental moment. The first person in our crew is having a baby!”

“Yeah, and a full decade before anyone in Tobias’s crew had one! Which proves we are superior.”

“We are Tobias’s crew, meathead!”

“Well, I meant Tobias and Ethan… they’re like their own little crew, right?”

“No, we’re not,” a voice barreled.

“Ethan!” Sienna greeted.

“Now it’s a party,” Bryce grinned.

“I can assure you, it’s not. Any word on Casey?”

“Not since Tobias arrived,” Sienna shrugged. “And I’m getting worried!”

“Sienna, you’re a doctor,” Ethan frowned. “Casey’s in excellent health, she’s had no complications, and she’s being treated by some of the best doctors we have. There’s no need to worry.”

“Are you trying to convince us of that?” Jackie smirked. “Or yourself?”

“Me,” Ethan sighed as he fell back into a waiting room chair. “Definitely, me. Are they chocolate cigars?”

“You bet!” Bryce grinned. “Hand rolled them myself.”

“That wasn’t funny,” Jackie whispered.

“Yes, it was,” Bryce replied.

“No, it wasn’t,” Ethan confirmed. “Can I have one?”

“NO!” Sienna scolded. “Not until after the baby is born. What’s wrong with you people! Besides, aren’t you a health freak?”

“Contrary to what some of you believe, I am human. A real heart beats beneath my chest, and when I’m nervous, I stress-eat chocolate. All right?”

“Yes!” Bryce raised a fist in victory and lifted his bag until he was met by Sienna’s death stare. “But I mean… we still have to wait.”

Jackie shot up from her seat with determination. “In that case, I know what we have to do. Come on, Si….”

“Where are we going? To the gift shop… we have to get supplies… chocolate, cookies; it might be a long night. The cigars may be off limits until Baby Carrick appears, but that doesn’t mean other stress treats are.”

“Baby Carrick….” Bryce repeated. “Do they have a name picked yet?”

“If they do, they haven’t shared,” Sienna replied. “Now, excuse us. We need to get provisions.”

~~~~~ 

“Brenda?”

Tobias scrunched his nose.

“Nicole?”

“No.”

Casey rolled her eyes, “Let me guess? More exes?”

Tobias looked away with a sigh before offering up a suggestion of his own. “Lillith?”

Shifting in her bed, arms cradling her swollen belly, Casey shook her head.

“There has to be a suitable name for someone born in this millennium that did not belong to someone you banged before me.”

“Hey!” Tobias protested.

“Is that why you suggested Millicent when I found out I was pregnant?”

“You know why I suggested Millicent, and you’re one to talk, didn’t you offer up Pocket? Pocket Carrick. Imagine explaining that one to my mother?”

Casey chuckled softly but wasn’t about to be defeated. “And you suggested Genoa!”

“Did I really?” Tobias laughed.

“You sure did.”

“What was wrong with us?”

“We don’t have that much time, baby. But I blame my lack of common sense on hormones. But you? I have no idea!”

“No idea!” He astounded. “I had just found out the love of my life was having our baby; I was all over the place. It may not have had hormones issues, but I wasn’t exactly… stable.”

“When have you ever been stable?” she laughed.

“Point taken! But we need to name our little girl… fast… and don’t say we don’t know that we’re having a girl because we’re very close to learning I was right all along.”

The doctor entered the room to check on an increasingly flustered Casey. She dilated from zero to five centimeters without even knowing, but now hours passed by with precious little progression.

“There is no need to worry,” Dr. Garcia assured. “Sometimes labor slows down. But we aren’t at the point where we need to think about induction.”

“I’m at the point where I don’t want this to drag on endlessly,” Casey groaned.

“On that other hand," Tobias inserted. "We could use some extra time to figure out a name.”

Casey looked at her husband with contempt. “That’s nice, dear. But how about we hope to stall progress and drag things when you have a bowling ball trying to creep out of your penis?”

Tobias looked at Dr. Garcia, distressed. “Every time she says something like that, her push present gets bigger.”

“Keep it up, and pretty soon, even you won’t be able to afford that gift,” the doctor laughed.

“Dr. Garcia,” Casey asked, her tone becoming more severe. “I know I can’t walk now, but is there anything we can do to help this progress.”

“You may be in luck. We have a pilot project working with some holistic methods, including acupressure. The acupressure technician happens to be on the floor; if you’d like, I can send her in.”

“It can’t hurt,” Casey smiled. “Let’s give it a shot.”

~~~~~

Fifteen minutes later, the technician entered Casey's delivery room during a tense moment. A clearly apprehensive Tobias was clutching his wife’s hand and offering encouraging words as he did his best to keep himself together for her sake. Her moans filled the room as she hunched over in pain.

“Oh my,” the technician interrupted. “The chart said she had an epidural….I didn't expect to find you in this much pain.”

“She did have one,” Tobias spat. “But it needs to be topped off. We’re waiting on the anesthesiologist who has less than five minutes to show up, or his life is in jeopardy.”

“Well, we don’t want that,” the older woman empathized. “Honey, if you like, I can come back after ….”

“No,” Casey insisted, leaning back into bed. “It’s passing… don’t… go….”

Tobias took out his phone and dialed Ethan. He asked his friend if he’d handle finding the missing anesthesiologist, as he didn’t want to leave Casey’s side.

“Tobias, you can go check if you want," Casey advised. "I’ll be OK alone for a few minutes."

"I’m not leaving you!” Tobias pressed.

“That’s right, you’re not!” Ethan demanded on the other end of the phone. He was already walking to the nurses’ station, nostrils flaring.

“Tell Casey if she needs someone to rant, scowl, and threaten... she won’t do any better than me."

"She was your intern once, I'm sure she's aware."

"You stay where you belong. I assure you, the anesthesiologist will be there in no time.”

“I knew we could count on you, buddy,” Tobias smiled. He returned to his wife’s side where the technician was already working on her. “How you doing, baby?” he asked.

“Peachy. Ducky. Never been better. I want to give birth every day for the rest of my life,” Casey sneered. “You did this to me! If this gets any worse, you lay down next to me and get a Brazillian wax. I'm sorry, but you should have to feel some of this."

“If it helps, Case, I’ll call the spa and have someone sent up right now.”

“Oh no,” the technician chuckled, “if you’re going to do that, can you at least wait until I leave the room?”

“Of course,” Casey chuckled wearily. “And since studies show it doesn’t really help the birthing mother, Tobias… you’re off the hook.”

“You two are adorable,” the woman grinned. “Keep this sense of humor, and you’ll do just…. Wait a second… did you say, Tobias?”

“Yes?” He replied. 

“Don’t tell me he once dated you too….” Casey bemoaned.

“For heaven’s sake, no!” She chortled. “I’m not a cougar, dear. But I knew I recognized you two from someplace! I was your waitress on one of your first dates! Do you remember? At City Tap House.”

“Wait, you’re a waitress, too?” Tobias asked.

“I’m a single Mom with a child in college,” she groused. “It takes more than one job to pull that off! I remember you two coming in! You were so completely in love! I asked if you had been together long, and this one,” she tapped Casey’s shoulder, “insisted you were just friends. But I knew better!”

“I don’t know if remember… oh my God, yes!” Casey gasped. “I do remember you! Do you remember Tobias? She kept telling us to come back once we were engaged because she knew we would be soon enough.”

“That’s right!” She grinned. “If my current gigs don’t work out, I have a future in matchmaking. I’m never wrong, and love was written all over the two of you, no matter how much you denied it.”

“Oh, yeah,” Tobias grinned as it came to him. “I do remember! And for what it’s worth, we were madly in love… this one here just needed to drag her feet to get us to the punch line.”

“Well, considering that wasn’t all that long ago, it looks like you two made up for lost time pretty quickly.”

“We did,” Casey beamed.

Just then, there was a knock at the door, and the anesthesiologist entered with a slightly traumatized look on his face.

“Hi, uhm, Dr. Carrick, I hear you needed more….”

“Damn straight she does!” Tobias barked.

“Well, I’m done here,” the technician grinned. “It sure was lovely seeing you two again. It’s always nice to see when the magic works!”

“Wait… are you still at City Tap?” Casey asked. “You know, we’ll need a date night soon enough.”

“Sure am! Call in advance and tell them you want to know when Samantha is working. But bring the little one with you. I want to meet her, too.”

“HER!” Tobias shouted. “See! Her! She knows it, too!”

Casey rolled her eyes. “Yes, dear. It was lovely seeing you again, Samantha.”

“Likewise.”

Shortly thereafter, the anesthesiologist finished up. He jumped as he exited the room, finding Ethan standing outside, still watching him with a steely glare. Tobias and Casey snuggled close and recalled that night back at City Tap and other early days in their relationship until it was time to push. Casey finally acquiesced. Tobias was right. They were “together” long before they were together… even if they didn’t fully comprehend it at the time.  

A couple of hours, a few phone calls to relatives, and a lot of pushing later… a tiny cry filled the air and filled their hearts. Their lives were forever changed.

Tobias finally left Casey’s side… rushing out to the waiting room to make the announcement to their friends who had never left.

“It’s a girl!” He beamed as everyone broke into celebration.

“A girl!” Sienna cried. “You were right all along!”

“I usually am,” Tobias winked. “People need to start paying more attention to me.”

“Oh, brother….” Ethan flinched, pulling his friend into a warm embrace. “Tobias Carrick… father. I still can’t believe it.”

“Me either!” Jackie agreed. “I won’t believe it until we see her!”

“Her?” Bryce asked. “Does she have a name?”

“She sure does! Samantha Rose Carrick! And you’ll get to see her and her gorgeous Mommy very soon! And speaking of her beautiful mother, I told Casey I’d come to tell you, but I’ve been away from my girls for five minutes now, and that’s four minutes too long. So, if you'll excuse me...."

“Yes! Go! Go!” Sienna insisted, shooing him away. “Tell Casey I love her and can’t wait to hug them both!”

Bryce threw his arm over Sienna’s shoulder as they watched Tobias rush back down the hallway to Casey's side.

“Our babies are all grown up now, Si,” he teased.

“Yeah, it looks that way!” She chortled.

“And that can mean only one thing..."

"What's that?" Sienna asked.

"It's finally time to break out the chocolate cigars!”

~~~~

A/N 2: I HC that Casey and Tobias stopped by City Tap a few months later with baby Samantha in tow, leaving a very hefty tip to help the elder Samantha with her child's tuition.

If you wish to read more about Tobias & Casey's first hours with their baby girl, you can do so here:

Thanks so much for reading! :)

Tagging separately.

[kryptonbabe]

Archaeology vs. Paleontology, how it feels to be elegantly told by Hawkman that you're dumb

From All-Star Comics #61 & 62 (1976) by Gerry Conway, Keith Giffen & Wally Wood

I'm currently reading a JSA comic in which an astronaut flies to the surface of the sun and, instead of dying, becomes a powerful being capable of manipulating high levels of energy. I'm having fun, so I don't care about the science of it. However few pages later I get the panel above... Mixing up archaeology and paleontology? Now this is too much, that's where I draw the line! (Although I was too quick to judge, and Hawkman had my back all along).

I have no idea what is the scientific field of Dr. Kliburn's studies, but when he says: "Mucking about the ruins of Egypt, exploring ancient Inca pyramids, digging up dinosaur bones in Arizona -- all of that makes sense for an archaeologist" to Carter Hall a.k.a. Hawkman, an archaeologist, he badly mixes things up making dinosaur bones part of an archaeologist job. So ok, studying the remains of life is the business of many branches of science, and both archaeology and paleontology study the remains of organisms, but there's a difference in the type of remains they study.

Archaeology is the scientific study of ancient and recent human remains and artifacts (bones and teeth, ancient cool pottery, statues, funeral urns, tools, vases). Think: Lara Croft; Indiana Jones (I'm not saying he's good at his job though!).

Paleontology is the scientific study of all past life on Earth (dinosaurs, extinct fungi, plants, saber-tooth tigers etc), primarily through the study of fossils - so way beyond the remains of humans and their artifacts. Think: all the smart people in Jurassic Park; Ross, from Friends? (Oh boy we need better representation).

A little about objects of study: fossils studied by paleontologists and archeologists include bones, shells, body imprints, wood etc; so these fields of study might overlap (i.e. similar tools and excavation techniques), though their goals are different. Fossils can be remains of anything, there are different kinds of it. Trace fossils for example are like footprints, nests, or handprints left behind by creatures.

Above are the pictures of two cases of trace fossils, but while the study of the human footprints fossils on the left is a job for an archaeologist, the study of the non-human footprints, on the right, is a job for an paleontologist.

Now, what about poop? You might be asking yourself... and yes fossilized poop is also a fascinating object of study, they are scientifically called coprolites and by analyzing the fossilized poop of the Neolithic workers who built the the Stonehenge monument archaeologists found them littered with parasitic worm eggs. I mean... disgusting, but how cool is that we are able to learn that? They made these amazing structures which some people atribute to aliens and super advanced technology, but they had no idea they were eating infected meat, and that's such a human thing to do!

On the other hand when paleontologists study and collect animal fossil coprolites they find out more about that animal's way of life, their ecology, their environment, which is super important considering we can only study their remains. One of such early paleontologists, and true icon in the field of collecting ancient dinosaur feces and bones, was Mary Anning, a pioneer of paleontology in the early 1800s (she's cool as heck)!

Now that we establish that: I'm sorry Dr. Kliburn, but that is obviously a human remain, therefore a job for Hall Carter, an archaeologist! He also mentions a fly trapped in amber (and I know it is a sort of metaphor, but), that would be a job for an paleontologist... Kliburn is a really confused man. And Hawkman is just too polite to bluntly correct his colleague, instead he chooses a more subtle approach:

By emphasizing that the "proper study of mankind is man" Carter very elegantly corrects Dr. Kliburn's wrong assertions, indirectly pointing that his field is the study of mankind and their artifacts, not other aspects of nature, he won't be looking into flies preserved in amber or excavating dinosaur bones in Arizona (although... to Kliburn's merit, Arizona is indeed a state with a rich fossil record with many different dinosaurs and other animal bones and trees preserved). A very polite way call someone a fool.

I'm guessing that the writer, Gerry Conway, was probably aware of the difference between the two occupations and interested in making a tongue in cheek comment on it. Not that comics need to be scientifically correct, far from it, I love it when they're not. But I also love it when we can use them to learn something.

Further indication of that point is that if we take a look at Hall Carter's home in the above panel, we don't see any signs of animal remains, we do see what look like human artifacts, tools, weapons and masks. It is clear Keith Giffen and Wally Wood, the artists of the issue, are aware of an archaeologist's objects of study. And if you're asking yourself who the uninvited guest is: yes it is Dr. Kliburn himself attempting to rob Hawkman's house...

Dr. Kliburn dies that same issue by the very human fossil he was trying to steal. So that's what you get for mixing up two serious and interesting scientific fields... Thank you for reading this!

[reasoningdaily]

GPB News: Civil rights groups condemn 'Soul Fest' concerts at Georgia park with giant Confederate carving

Civil rights groups are criticizing a concert series with Black performers dubbed "Soul Fest" that is being held at a Georgia park replete with Confederate imagery, including a giant carving of Confederate leaders.

Stone Mountain Park just outside Atlanta is where the Ku Klux Klan marked its rebirth in 1915. Its colossal, mountainside sculpture of Gen. Robert E. Lee, Confederate President Jefferson Davis and Gen. Thomas J. "Stonewall" Jackson is the largest Confederate monument ever crafted and has special protection enshrined in Georgia law.

The park has taken steps in recent years to try to soften its Confederate legacy and promote itself as a family site, but civil rights groups have said the moves fall way short of what's needed.

The "Soul Fest" concert series is a way to "normalize and sanitize" the hateful message of the park, said Atlanta NAACP President Richard Rose.

"They're saying, 'This is OK. Get used to it. It's cool,'" he said in a phone interview on Thursday.

Rose said he encouraged two of the bands to pull out of the event, but they told him they were under contract, and their music brings people together.

"The music can't bring people together in front of this icon of the Confederacy," he said.

Emails to the park and its management company, Thrive Attractions, were not immediately returned. In a news release earlier this month, the park promoted Soul Fest as a new event that would allow families to experience a "full day of fun." An ad for the event on the park's website featured a photo of a smiling Black man and Black woman on a lawn.

The event, which runs from Thursday night through Sunday night, features rhythm and blues groups, a gospel singer and a Prince cover band.

It's a "bad faith effort" to distance the park from the Confederacy, said Rivka Maizlish, a researcher with the Southern Poverty Law Center.

"It's an effort to pretend that the park is for everyone while still maintaining this massive symbol of white supremacy," she said. Some supporters of the carving say it is a tribute to their ancestors who fought in the Civil War, not a celebration of white power.

The park 15 miles (25 kilometers) northeast of downtown Atlanta attracts large numbers of tourists and other visitors interested in hiking to the top of the mountain, walking the grounds or seeing a light show. In 2021, the park's board voted to relocate Confederate flags from a busy walking trail and create a museum exhibit that relates the history of the site and the carving, which was completed in 1972 amid resistance to the civil rights movement and desegregation by Georgia and other Southern states.

The changes approved by the board came amid a national reckoning on race that brought down dozens of Confederate monuments in 2020.

The park, however, still maintains the giant carving, which measures 190 feet (58 meters) across and 90 feet (27 meters) tall. The Soul Fest concerts will take place on a lawn that faces the monument just months after a Confederate group gathered there.

"It's just so beyond obnoxious and disgusting and gross that they're hosting these artists now and trying to pull in a different audience," said Brian Morris, a member of the Stone Mountain Action Coalition, an advocacy group that has called on the park to stop maintaining the carving.

[aerial-ace97]

Aldous Leekie Reframing?

So I’m watching Orphan Black for the third time right now cause it’s amazing and one of my favorite TV shows of all time.  Anyway, I’m becoming convinced that Leekie might have been the best of the Dyad Institute and maybe the best bad guy of the show besides those who clearly or even just effectively swapped sides (AKA Helena and Paul).  Spoilers though so I’ll put my reasoning under the cut.

To start off, I am by no means calling Leekie a good guy.  He was known to kill in order to keep the experiments safe, as in the case of Olivier (to be fair he was a sex offender so I don’t feel too broken up about it and you could argue Leekie hired him but with how many heads Dyad has there simply is no way to know that).  He also supposedly killed Rachel, but oh it turns out no he didn’t, so did he just... burn documents or something.  He did have grandiose ideas about eugenics but that’s... everyone in Dyad and he honestly was mostly just a figurehead while others did the real work.  He also had a creepy relationship with Delphine.  Maybe?  We never got the full picture on how that worked though.  Certainly his status was above her and so you could make a point for work place exploitation but besides that... I’m not really sure what’s creepy about their relationship.  Is it just ageism?  Rachel and Ira are creepy because Rachel LITERALLY raised Ira from four years old.  We know nothing of the history of Aldous and Delphine.  Aldous was... also vaguely an asshole and superior around most people.  Not exactly a crime akin to the monumental violations we see from others on the show.

On the other hand, Aldous was deeply committed to maintaining as little intervention with the subjects as possible, or at the least, the most that we saw (I guess besides Marion Bowles but she was hardly even a character and MK’s revenge list with her named crossed off suggests she was involved with Helsinki so... not a great look for her).  He didn’t try to kill any clones we know of and forwarded the greatest impetus for curing the clones of anyone in the Institute.  When Rachel went out of her way to have one of her sisters murdered and autopsied he was disgusted.  Not to the extent anyone should have been but with more genuine frustration than anyone I can recall in the Institute.

When we compare him to other members of the group there really is no contest with most of them.  Virginia Coady advocated for genocide and rape.  Her cadre of clones, while arguably manipulated, were also rapists.  PT Westmoreland experimented on a child and eventually killed him in cold blood, manipulated everyone around him to do his eugenic dirty work, stole blood from dozens of youth and let them die thinking they had a cure, you name it.  Evie Cho had dozens of babies euthanized when they were ‘defective’.  Ferdinand massacred clones.  And Rachel, for all people try to argue for her redemption and as manipulated as she was, went a long with both Westmoreland and Ferdinand, held back Cosima’s cure, tried to kill her mother and Sarah, did have one clone murdered, manipulated and abused Kira, and was perfectly fine with however many clones had to die.  Sorry Rachel fans but her being manipulated doesn’t absolve her.  Everyone is a product of others.  No upbringing makes Rachel vindicated.

Of course Prolethians fair no better with all of them abusing faith in order to manipulate the murders of clones.  Tomas was abusive, Henrik a rapist, Bonnie a murderer and abusive.  Probably way more crimes for all of them.

There are only two members of Dyad who may have had any chance of being better.  Susan Duncan being one.  But... Susan Duncan was still ok for a while with experimenting on Yanis in the horrible tests he went through.  Speaking up isn’t really stopping it and she should’ve cut and run then and there.  Also had that above creepy relationship with Ira.  I don’t know that she couldn’t have been aware of some of the Helsinki stuff and other things that Dyad got up to as essentially the head of Dyad for a time.

Ethan Duncan is the other contender and yeah for all intents and purposes we’re left to believe he was better than Leekie but he was also... only very briefly ever a member of Dyad.  Certainly not the Dyad we see in the current age.  So I find it difficult to count him.

This is all worthless info of course.  They’re all scheming and cruel eugenicists more interested in profit and science than actual human lives.  But in retrospect of watching through the seasons I feel like Leekie shines as not so bad when we stop and think about it.  Course he might have been.  In an alternate story where the Club sides with him over Rachel in season 2, maybe he becomes the worst of the worst.  But I can only judge by what actually happened.

[fuckrealityfictionisbetter]

Hmm… elaborate on the charnel house and ppls views on true crime YTers/consumers pls. Especially since I don’t think BFU is viewed too negatively, unless I missed something.

Ok so unfortunately this is something I’m into rn so this might be long.

Death has always been a part of humanity, but it used to be a huge and respected part of humanity, not even as a separate thing to life but another progression to life to quote Raoul Vaneigem “we do not die because we must, we die because it is a habit to which one day, not very long ago, our thoughts become bound”. As a way for the dead to still be involved in society there were huge monuments to death including those in the form of charnel houses (churches decorated with bone).

In the charnel house of St. Michael’s chapel in Hallstatt there are around 600 skulls with the names, dates and information about the past ‘owner’ painted on them, many with painted flowers and other decorations. Families and friends of the deceased would come to the house to show their children their ancestors to connect with family history.

But then the time of enlightenment came, holding on to bones was seen as dangerous medically and barbaric mortally. There is many ways the enlightenment age damaged the perspective of death (we used to look after our own dead till mass funeral homes for one) but I’d suggest watching Ask a mortician on YouTube find out about all that.

So why does it matter that we don’t interact with the dead, that to quote baudrillard “little by little, the dead cease to exist”? Well in Antiquarian researches: Mr Bloxam on charnel vaults it was posed ‘that people who do not have contact with morality tend to feel “depressed, diminished, and less alive”’ though a quote from over 200 years ago could very much be argued it can’t be argued that death was a large part of society for thousands of years and people were drawn to it, in large churches of bones or keeping skulls to commune with (won’t get into that other bit rn) and that mostly stopped during the enlightenment. Display’s of death other then solemn statues or for punishment was shunned as grotesque.

So what does this have to do with true crime? True crime is very much a representation of the dead, its not family friendly or cheery tales of good times it’s morbid retelling’s of grizzly death. Death. It’s one of the sole places to hear about dead people and how they died as death has been (due to modem medicine, changes in funeral care and more) removed from our society for the first time in human history. I’ve seen ‘true crime’ where no crimes were committed at all but a tragic accident told out in great detail. It’s at its core a way to connect with death and yes face the darkest of humanity.

So about the negativity, I’m glad you haven’t seen the negativity around true crime, there are many individuals disgusted with Bailey Sarian and others like her for talking about the victims of these crimes. That it somehow reduces them to nothing but entertainment, that it makes light of their murders, if one is to talk about crime it should be in some sad dramatic documentary where the viewer is made to feel bad about these poor people and so glad the police are there to help! That casual conversation on the topic is u slightly! This mindset makes sense when you look at how death (from the enlightenment time onwards) was told it should be behind closed doors, grandma should be pumped full of chemicals so she can look perfect for eternity after death. And death as a spectacle should be reserved for the guilty.

In Paul Koudounaris’s book The Empire of Death he notes an occasion when a tourist of a charnel house asked “These are all monks?… What did they do to be punished like this?” And really I could of just replied with that quote, that though once being regarded and remembered in death was an honour it is now only for the criminal (Public executions and such), and so talking about the crimes seems a punishment to the victims. Sorry if non of this made sense.

[l-artemisia-del-secolo]

Cradle

Masterlist

"We need to get rid of the cradle."

Nat's voice brought you back.

It wasn't the same voice that woke you up tonight. Not the dark honey liquor that used to calm you for years. Now it was the sound of barely rotten wood with hollow emotionless vibrations.

It was a stark contrast with joyful colors. Heroes of old folklore were laughing from the walls. Reminder, that you wanted to make this room special, unique, and welcoming.

You felt your wife's look. She was waiting for your answer. It was time you gave her at least something. Anything. 

You turned on your heels and simply left. Nat didn't move, she didn't try to follow you. You knew, your wife wanted to help, to fix you. But the truth didn't need to be fixed. You needed something else. Neither of you knew what.

____

You didn't want to go.

You hated the compassionate words, you despised the looks full of pity. You didn't want to survive these friendly meetings. Your wound would open again, leaving the bloody trails all over the sincere friendliness. 

You were never a jealous person, but Avenger's families reminded you what you lost. What was ripped from your stomach.

You could feel the scar open and pulsate. 

"It's Burton's birthday." Natasha was leaning on the door of your bedroom. As If she needed something more monumental to keep her posture. 

"I won't go." You were searching for your medicine in the drawer. 

"We don't have to stay there for long. An hour maximum. Just to say hi."Natasha was pleading, asking, begging.

You didn't remember when you were a couple. When you laughed, kissed, had sex, talked, shared a thought. Two ghosts living under one roof. At least Nat tried. You didn't give her the pleasure of forgiveness. 

"And after hi?" your annoyance flinched. But you didn't look at her. "What are they going to say? What are they going to ask?" 

You both knew the answer. Raw and disgusting. You had those conversations. Many times. Those "I hope you're doing OK. How do you feel? Can we help you? What are you planning next?" ones. So many times they ended in your tears and Nat's anger.

Both of you didn't blame anyone, but it was still too soon.

"We will avoid that." your wife already felt a familiar lump in her throat. Rejection. "We will do what you want. What we want. No questions. Just us together."

You sighed.

You knew those awkward moments. Just the two of you, avoiding certain topics and not looking each other in the eyes. Who would enjoy that? Months passed and you still felt the salt of the tears from the day it all happened. 

"No." You said firmly. "But you can go. He's your friend. You should be with him."

___

Phantom pain of loss for you was palatable. You were not so sure about your wife.

Your marriage was falling apart. You thought Natasha didn't want to feel it. She was as if unaffected. Tiny routines you shared vanished. 

"What is this?" You noticed a few empty boxes in the garage. 

"Oh." Nat was caught off guard near the stairs with another box in her hands. She didn't expect you to wake up so early in the morning. "I thought we could rearrange a few things. Keep something in the garage, give to the charity stuff we don't need anymore."

"And what bothers you so much, Natasha?" You were studying her, she was afraid to make the wrong move. Her hands, usually so ready for action, were trembling. The box long forgotten on the floor. 

"No, I didn't mean it like that. It would be our decision. Maybe we need to change..." 

You let out half laugh, half growl. Tension was building up. Ghost of your loss, that reminded you so much of your wife, appeared so close to you. 

"You're so good at making decisions, aren't you?"

She acknowledged your question. There were tears in her eyes. Forests of her orbs turned into swamps. 

"You wanted to get rid of the cradle? Toys? Clothes?" you pushed. "Come on, Natasha. I'll help you."

You grabbed the box, almost ran to the joyless room, opened the door, chose the nearest shelf. So many toys, so many colors, so much love. You threw the unicorn, he hit the plastic. Lion, parrot, cat and fish followed his fate. 

"Why don't you come here, Natasha?" you were choosing the clothes that was ought to vanish. "Let's get rid of these painful memories together."

Your wife walked in, leaving the sanity behind for both of you. Your movements were making fun of her. Mimicking her confidence, Devouring her calm. 

"Is this what you want?" You threw the box to her feet. "Make a decision to get rid of this? To never be reminded how you made a decision not to give our daughter a chance?"

 "It's not what I want and that's not what happened." her usually stoic expression was broken beyond repair, with immense pressure in every vein. 

"Then what happened?" your tears were bursting from your heart. "How am I alive and she is not?" 

"You think it's easy for me? It was easy?'' The air was becoming too heavy to breathe. She was stuttering. "What was I supposed to do?"

"We were supposed to decide this together." Bitterness froze the time. Joy in this room was gone forever. 

"There was no time for that. Minutes, seconds..." 

"Why is it not unbearable for you, Natasha? Why can you continue living? Why don't you suffocate?" 

Each question was a dagger, rusty, disgusting, fatal. "It's not easy for me. I loved her. Just as you did. I still love her. Just as you do." Natasha was slowly getting on her knees. "But I wouldn't be able to live without you. I couldn't lose you. She was my daughter, but you are my soul. And I would see you in her. And without you we would inevitably disappear from each other's lives."

That confession was forced. Natasha was pushing the truth down your throat. You instinctively touched your scar. 

"You have me. Even a better version of me. Barren one."

"Don't say that." She hid her face in her hands, too afraid to hear your words. 

"You never had her under your heart. Never heard her heartbeat with every fiber. And now I lost that gift. I don't think we feel the same way, Natasha."

____

You left your wife on her knees. You didn't look back. You needed to be alone. You never wanted to torture Natasha. You knew, you were fighting grief in your own different ways. But still... How she couldn't understand that there was no point in keeping the same life? You were supposed to start anew and Natasha was the one who wasn't ready, who wasn't hurt enough. You remembered her face, when you opened your eyes after anesthesia. It was a mask of pain, but now once again it was full of other emotions. 

You decided to spend your night at the hotel and your evening at the bar. It was easy, it was predictable. It didn't take long for a blond to join your table. She wasn't from this town, she forgot to take off the conference badge. 

"Business or leisure?" she chirped with a weightless voice.

 "None of the above."

 "Well, I'm sure I could provide a little bit of both." She tried to wink, but it wasn't her first drink. 

One could say, she was beautiful, you could say that she wasn't your wife. Her life was simple, she put the story for you on a plate. You chew on her directness. Her suit wasn't appropriate for the weather. Too warm, too dark.

She was searching for a one night stand somewhere where she could be another person. Just for a night. A loved one just for a moment. You were humming your short responses, more concentrated on your next sip. "

Would you like to join me?"

You didn't hide your hand from hers. Your fingers touched. She wasn't warm like Natasha, but she wasn't a reminder of your pain. 

"That's not a good idea."

She shyly smiled, her eyes undressing you. 

"Whatever it is, honey, we'll forget it for the night."

The proposal was tailored to fit you perfectly. Nat's voice that was part of your conscience was fading away.

 "Will you help me?" 

She nodded, her head being delightfully empty. Her body being in charge. 

"I'm married." You whispered to yourself. 

"I know." She pointed at your finger. "and I'm not going to steal you from her. Relax."

She took your hand, you followed her. In the elevator, she was posing in front of the mirror. Surely she wanted an adventure. This line was supposed to bring you peace after crossing. She tried so hard. Natasha was never like this. Was this how it was supposed to be from now on? All women being compared to an ideal. They would always lose. You still loved her.

 "I'm not a good enough adventurer." 

___

When you returned home, Natasha was at work. Wicked box still in the room. Others were still in the garage. You noticed one of them wasn't empty anymore. Empty photo albums, film and a vintage Leica.

You turned a few pages. Your wife's handwriting everywhere. 

"First cry, first word, first holiday, first bite..." You started sobbing. This was the book of life, Natasha wanted to give your daughter. From her first day, to your last. On the last page of the first album there were a few sentences, ink smudged from crying. 

"I was asking for her forgiveness." Nat's vulnerability suddenly pierced the air. 

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"I know." 

You carefully put the box back. She wasn't judging you. She was there with you, for you. 

"I didn't know..." 

"I was ready to give her everything and capture every moment of her life." her jaw clenched. "You're right. We don't feel the same way. But it doesn't mean that a part of me didn't die that day."

_____

Yelena called you at 3 am. You were driving as fast as you could. 

"What happened?" your coat was over your robe. 

"Grenade." 

Your sister in law gave you a rib crushing hug. She knew how worried you were, even though you didn't show it.

Yelena didn't leave out a single detail. Especially about her sister's recklessness. 

You heard Nat's moans in the corridor. And when you entered she wasn't quick enough to hide the bruises and wounds under her clothes. Doctor left with a reassuring smile. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"Your sister called me." You checked the painkillers your wife was given. Strong ones. "You need to change your approach."

"Nothing to change. A standard operation." 

"Not what she said to me." You crossed your arms on your chest. You forgot what it was like to care. "You decided to fight alone against the whole group. And it's not the first time."

"I'll talk to her." Nat put her gun back in the holster. She had to be fearless. If not that, how could she be suitable for you. 

 "Wait." You sighed. "Your bandage."

Natasha shivered from your touch. The one on her wrist wasn't tight enough. You used to know this body so well and now it was foreign for you. It didn't take long for you to fix the fabric, Nat sitting across the medical table. 

"I'm sorry you're at the hospital." She tried to control her shaking. You looked at her. The magic of a forgotten touch returned for a few moments. Maybe for a second you even forgot your tragedy.

 "It's fine." You almost smiled. Natasha was safe. It didn't matter that you were blinded by sterile light. The same as it was months ago. 

"Why are you here?" 

"We've worked together. Remember? I'm still your senior officer." You traced your shoulder, where the stripe was supposed to be. "I've known about the change in the attitude, in the preparation. But today was different. You could die, if it wasn't for your teammate. You can't continue like this. You're not invincible."

"I've got nothing to lose." Nat hesitantly caught your wrist. She was gentle. "If I'm not fearless, what's the point?"

You stood up, you earned a hiss of disappointment.

"Your sacrifice won't bring her back. And our family has already lost enough."

____

You slept in an empty bed only when Natasha was at work. Not a single night, when your wife chose to, only when she had to. You wanted to help her with her nightmares, she wanted to give you comfort. Even after the tragedy you were falling asleep together. 

But tonight you were woken up by a familiar cry of horror. You almost fell from your side. Nat was heavily breathing and sweating.

"It's OK, it's OK." You instinctively pulled her tensed body closer. Nat's forehead on your shoulder reminded you of the first intimate nights together. With shared secrets, passionate kisses and filthy moans. So much time passed. 

"Hey, remember our reality check?" You cupped her face with your burning palms. "Name?"

"Natasha Romanoff."

 "Location?" 

"H-home?" Her voice was breaking. 

"Home." You echoed. "And why is it always safe here?"

 "My family..." Nat blinked away the tears. "... Was..." 

"Is here, ballerina. Your family is always with you."

______

In a few weeks Nat was holding your hand while walking. You needed it. You were supporting each other. You stopped near the door of your gynecologist. 

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you to the doctor?" 

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm not..." You inhaled sharply. "I'm not ready yet..."

The door opened. "Mrs Romanoff, we are waiting for you." The nurse was too cheerful for your taste, but you had to go through with this appointment. 

"Everything's going to be OK. I'm always holding your hand." Nat kissed your palm. 

___

You were surprised by a phone call. Nat wanted to spend a few weeks in a cabin. You agreed immediately.

Lately you were stifled by the emptiness of your apartment. When you got there, the sun was giving the last bright kiss to the forest.

Nat's eyes being the emeralds they were always meant to be. 

She kissed your neck, while you were cooking. You caught her by the waist and bit her lip. It didn't take long for both of you to forget about the dinner.

You followed Nat's clumsy lead. You forgot how shy she was. But you still remembered what she needed the most. What she deserved to have all this time. To be loved and adored. That night you were apologizing again and again, giving her the strongest sensations one after another.

Your wife was whispering your name with ardor you thought wasn't possible. You were rediscovering each other. Your every day there was carefree. Almost. Sometimes your pillow was wet from your tears. And Nat was spending her time alone far from you.

But you were getting there. Gradually, painfully your scar was disappearing from your body.

When it was time to leave you gave Nat something she thought was long forgotten. Her camera.

"I want this to be the beginning of our new life." You kissed her ring. "I know, I'm going to need so much more time to accept everything. But if you're still willing to... "

Nat didn't answer. Her first photo was her wife smiling for the first time in 12 months. 

When you returned home, you asked for the boxes. You were ready to hide the cradle.

[jostepherjoestar]

Imagine if over time everyone notices Trisha’s twin seems to getting more distant and focused on the goal. When they ask her what’s wrong she avoids the question but what everyone doesn’t know is that for everyone to get out alive either her or her sister has to die and she decided that she would protect trish like her sister has down for her over the years

Una Gemella (fic 1,5k)

Decided to name Trish’s twin Claudia after Claudia Schiffer, the famous 90′s model since Trish is also named after one. I hope you can enjoy this, it’s pretty sad and basically a totally different ending to part 5. Whoo boy.

part 1 and part 2 of the ask

Content warning: wounds, death

Under their capo’s watchful gazes, the merry band of gangsters actually worked together for their common goal: to take down Diavolo. With their combined strengths they’d figured out much more information, a lot faster. But with their collaboration also came the discovery that two of his own divisions were working against him, Diavolo went into quite a fit of rage, especially knowing that his two daughters had developed stands. His hatred only grew stronger and his lust to rid the planet of anyone who knew his history only further developed.

In some miraculous way no-one had lost their lives, of course there were less battles to be fought, having to no longer see the assassins as their enemies and vice versa. Diavolo had sent his Unità Speciale onto the large team with a few extra recently added members so he’d be sure of the traitor’s demises. Of course they all knew that Doppio was in fact protecting and housing part of their enemy, thanks to Claudia’s recently acquired stand.

Knowing how large the threat was, Diavolo decided to unleash all hell in Rome on the combined teams arrival. Night had fallen and all seemed normal, tourists were loudly enjoying their dinners, lovers enjoyed their romantic walks past the centuries old monuments, families put their children to bed. That calm was disrupted by the many stand attacks that would mark the city for years to come. The teams had decided to split up so they’d all have enemies to fight at the same time, urging for the safest way to ensure a quick end to the chaos.

On their way to the Colosseum to meet Polnareff about the arrow, Claudia seemed even more focused, there was barely any trace left of the shivering, crying girl from a few days ago. She’d hardened quickly, perhaps too quickly. Her more stern sister even being surprised to see her twin this way. Risotto, Giorno, Bruno, Trish and Claudia had formed their team and quickly met with the Frenchmen. Claudia offering short and stern answers, she’d already seen what would happen and there was no time to waste. Her father was lurking in this very spot. She knew she had no choice, there was no future in which they all could survive if she and Trish both lived. One of them had to go, she was sure of her resolve, Claudia was dying tonight.

Claudia had ignored or brushed off her companions concerns until Risotto cornered her. He knew there was something going on and he was sure to find out. “Tell me what’s going on. We are a team, you need to talk to us.” he said in a stern but concern filled voice. Before she would have been afraid to look the capo right into his crimson eyes but now she took it head on. “I have to die. There is no other way. Your men will suffer, Bucciarati’s will too if nothing is done.” the strength in her voice trembling as she felt tears pushing to release. She held them back with all her might but her trembling hand betrayed her true feelings. Risotto understood. He had put his trust in her since she first called the meeting, admiring her bravery for such a youngster.

The tall silver haired man sighed deeply, he didn’t even hide the pain behind his eyes. He was going to miss this one. He knew she wouldn’t change her mind, she was going to make the ultimate sacrifice. He didn’t ask how or when, he knew enough to deduct that it was soon. He didn’t want to make peace with her decision but he knew he had too. She could feel Diavolo getting closer, Trish could too. The two capo’s strategising inside the old rings of the crumbling monument but it was too late for that, the pink haired villain had already made his entrance, no longer using Doppio to protect himself.

It was time. The attacks were brutal but their team had the advantage of knowing his powers, even though it didn’t help much. The rage behind his hits were felt, Bruno and Giorno had taken quite the beating already. Diavolo’s plan was to work his way down to his “beautiful daughters” as he so lovingly said. Risotto stayed close to Claudia, somewhere hoping that it didn’t need to end the way it was going to. The solemn nod the youth gave to him made him aware the moment was nearing. Bruno had been incapacitated, Giorno by his side to protect him from any more harm for the moment. The blond looked not that much better off than his capo, his stand could only do so much.

Claudia was alert, knowing the direction her father would strike from, sure to protect her sister who’d taken place beside her. “I want you to finish him Trish, no mercy. I know you can. Do it for us, Risotto will help.” she told her sister, voice beginning to shake, avoiding her sisters confused gaze. She would only tear up at the sight of her. “Claudia what are you talking about? We’ll do it together. Ok?” Trish’s confusion distracting her from the incoming attack. It nearly hit her but not before her sister pushed her aside to accept the blow. Giant pieces of stone rubble had been hurled at them, smaller rocks hitting Trish and Risotto, a plume of dust camouflaging Claudia’s body from view. A pang of fear struck them as they saw her crushed beneath the large stone, barely breathing. Diavolo was still hiding behind pillars to avoid counter attacks, awaiting to see the result of his.

“Claudia! No!” Trish couldn’t hold herself back and rushed to her sister, tears already falling down her flushed cheeks, Risotto following suit. The pink haired sisters holding onto each others hands, Trish pleading for her to stay awake. “Giorno please help her! You have to, please!” she begged her teammate who’d gotten up to fight again. Risotto placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s no use. It had to be this way. I’m... sorry.” he sternly said. But the sight before him tore at his heart, it shouldn’t have to end this way. “She’s not dead yet you fucking idiot. Giorno get over here!” Trish spitting her orders as her tears wet the ground beneath her. Claudia still faintly breathing, eyes fluttering. “You have to do it Trish... Do it for us. Kill that bastard... It had to be.” she could barely talk, shallow breaths sputtering her through her sentence. Her hand feeling numb from her sisters squeeze, like the pressure would somehow save her from her fate. “We have to keep fighting Trish, I’m sorry.” Giorno said with a solemn tone, knowing not even his healing powers could save her.

Risotto stayed by Claudia’s side, the tear stained sister focusing her anger on her father, not ready to say goodbye to her twin just yet. While Giorno and Trish continued, the capo’s large hand had taken the frail one in his. “You did really good out there kid. It takes balls to be a gangster but what you did? I don’t know what to say...” he could feel his heart swell with sadness for the coming loss. She was slipping fast. “Maybe in another life we’ll do it right.” a sad smile the last thing that would grace her beautiful face as she whispered her last words. Risotto knew it was time to help the remaining team finish off the cruel man. His sadness fuelling his resolve to fight on, holding on to her last words. Maybe in another life.

The end was in sight. Giorno had evolved his powers and was able to bring the devil himself to his knees before him. He looked pathetic, his eyes filled with fear he wasn’t going to admit to. Trish walked over, the tears having dried, remnants of dust making the watery paths visible on her cheeks. She bore her heel into the ribs of her father making him hiss and cough in response. “This is for Claudia you filthy bastard! Enjoy this pain now, you’ll be wishing you felt it again because wherever you’re going is a million times worse. You’re the most disgusting being I’ve ever laid my eyes on!” she spit on his face, she would have never done this in any other situation, thinking it a disgusting act, but now her rage was acting for her. Trish let Giorno finish him off, sending Diavolo into his own personal hell.

When he was finally gone Trish fell to her knees, not even caring about scuffing her skin. There was a faint relief, knowing there would be no more fighting, no more worrying. But it hurt, god it hurt so bad. She knew sacrifices had to be made to complete the mission but this... It wasn’t what she imagined. Her sobs returning, it felt like the tears would never stop. Bruno and Giorno placing themselves by her side to console her as best as they could. They sat by her until the sun had starting rising again, lighting the way for the dawn.

Like Claudia had predicted, all men were safe. Some worse off than others but they were all still breathing. Risotto felt a gaping emptiness in his soul, the little one had left quite the mark on him. Maybe next time, in another life, they’ll be luckier.

[rancoeur-the-unfortunate]

Pills (Chapter 29)

(Hello everyone, Rancoeur here. I know it's been a while since I last updated this book and I am truly sorry about that. But it's been so long since I've seen Zim or have even read fanfics about it. So in a way I sorta fell out of love with it. This doesn't mean I'm going to stop updating this though. This book is a monument to how my writing has evolved over the years and is my pride and joy. I will finish it, even if it kills me. It will be awesome and I can't wait for it. Thank you for reading this and please accept this 3300-word chapter as my apology. I know it's a little short and I did want to add more stuff to it but then it just looked bloated and I didn't like that. I hope everyone is staying safe out there. Have a nice day.)

Monday morning, Dib slowly got out of bed and stretched as his alarm clock rang. The boy rubbed his eyes softly before grabbing his glasses from the nightstand and put them on his nose after turning off the said clock. He glanced outside, noticing the dark clouds coming in, and sighed.

"Already looks pretty gross out there," he muttered to himself before he started to get dressed for school.

Honestly, it felt weird to sleep on a bed after sleeping in a tent for a week. Aside from just being comfier it kinda felt... lonely. Like someone was missing.

The boy shook his head as he slid on his coat and began the trek downstairs to greet Gaz and his father. Another rare day of eating with the Professor.

"Hey dad, hey Gaz," he smiled a bit and went to the fridge to grab some juice. When he grabbed what he wanted he pulled back and shut the fridge, only to find his dad right behind him holding a new device to his head. He reeled back in surprise, "dad?!"

His dad smiled at him and waved him off, "no need to worry son, I was just testing out this new invention I'm making on you. Says here your serotonin levels are higher than usual. You must be in a good mood!"

Dib gave his dad a nervous smile and laugh before backing away to the table where his sister was eating with one hand while simultaneously playing her new game with the other.

"Yeah, you haven't mumbled about killing Zim all morning. What's wrong with you?" She spoke between bites of cereal.

"I don't know, I guess I'm just too tired to think about killing Zim," Dib shrugged as he poured himself a bowl.

"That's bull and we both know it. You talk about capturing Zim in your sleep, I can hear it in my room," Gaz tossed a glare his way before going back to her game.

Dib rolled his eyes, "whatever." He muttered as he began eating.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a strange sensation in his chest.

Zim tentatively stepped out of his home. The Dib had told him that the skool children had already forgotten about the drugs, but he still felt fear. Like there were still eyes following him as he marched down the sidewalk. A feeling of uneasiness seemed to wash over him.

Eventually, the blocky, grey building came into view. A few children were loitering about, waiting for the bell to ring. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Zim just sat on a bench and waited alongside them. Only observing them slightly.

Humans were weird on Mondays, Zim had no idea why though. Something about that particular day of the week seemed to drain all of the energy from the weird meat bags. One kid looked like he was about to fall on his face from exhaustion.

Down the street, he spotted the Dib and his little sister. A part of Zim was fearful. Now that everything had gone relatively back to normal, would Dib go back to trying to expose him?

When the two entered the skool's grounds, they separated. Gaz went to sit on the steps, playing her video game. While  Dib glanced about, when he looked his way, the human... smiled at him.

Causally Dib stepped closer and closer until the two were only a few feet apart. There was a moment of silence between them, both of them just staring at each other. It was obvious they both wanted to say something but neither knew how.

Eventually, Dib sighed and spoke a little quietly, "hey uh... can I sit here?" The boy gestured to the spot on the bench next to Zim.

Zim looked surprised for a moment before he crossed his arms and looked away with his usual snark before quipping a quick, "you may."

Dib chuckled to himself, "same old Zim." He said as he sat down beside the green alien.

With that, the two sat in silence once more, the two of them just looking down at the skoolyard. Humans shuffling about like zombies, waiting for something to happen. Eventually, Zim slumped out of his uptight posture and looked down in his lap, fiddling with his thumbs.

It was Dib who once again broke the silence, "so, what evil plan is it this time?"

Zim looked up at the human in surprise, "eh?"

"You know, to take over the world and all that?" Dib smirked and leaned close, "or did you forget your mission."

Zim immediately perked up and sneered in disgust, "of course not! And to answer your first question. WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO KNOW!" He shouted that last part accidentally as he pointed an accusatory finger at the boy.

Dib just laughed, clutching his stomach as Zim tried to regain his composure. Zim couldn't help but giggle to himself slightly.

"In all seriousness," Zim started once the two had calmed down. "I don't know... I know I have a mission. But at the same time, that mission was given to me by them." Zim found himself glaring at his own hands. He clenched them into fists.

"It feels so strange, to have a purpose one second only to realize that purpose was only given to you to get you out of the way. And now that I see past all their lies I... I don't know. I have no idea what I should be doing, or what my purpose is now or what I'm even still doing on Earth." Zim sighed and closed his eyes, he knew Dib was looking at him, either pitying him or laughing at his distress.

Instead, he felt a hesitant hand on his shoulder. Zim looked up at Dib who was giving him a comforting yet awkward smile before pulling his hand back and sitting properly.

"If we're being truthful right now I guess I'll be straight with you," Dib spoke as he laid back on the bench and looked up at the sky. "The main reason why I wanted to help you was because I was hoping you'd leave once you realized what your mission was." Dib hummed to himself.

"But now that you're off your drugs and ready to leave... I..." Dib paused, "Don't get me wrong, I still hate your guts." He huffed but then frowned, "but the thought of you leaving now... it just doesn't sit well with me." Dib admitted.

"Funny how the one I considered my worst enemy could become someone I might even call my..." Dib paused again and looked at Zim with an emotion ZIm couldn't decern, "friend."

Zim stared at Dib in complete silence, 'friend?' Dib smiled slightly before going back to looking at the cloudy sky.

Three minutes passed before Zim opened his mouth, "Dib I-" Before he could finish the ever-piercing sound of the bell rang, cutting him off. Simultaneously, Zim was both annoyed and grateful for the interruption.

"Well I guess we'll finish this talk some other time," the human spoke grabbed his bag, and got up. "I'll see you later Zim," Dib gave one last smile before waving goodbye and walking away towards the school building.

It was then that it hit Zim, he'd never seen Dib smile so much before. The boy seemed genuinely happy in Zim's company. It felt so strange, a foreign feeling, a feeling he hadn't felt since, "Skoodge."

Suddenly it felt like all the air had left Zim's respiratory organs and he fell to his knees on the ground. Tears were building in his eyes until eventually, the dam broke, and he started sobbing loudly. Trying and failing to gasp for air. His cardiac spooch felt like it was being squeezed like a stress toy. It hurt and Zim was just figuring out why.

All alone in the Skool courtyard, Zim was crying. Crying like a long-forgotten smeet. Eventually, the Irken just laid down on his side curled into a ball. How could he? What was wrong with him?! How could he have hurt Skoodge like that?! His best friend! His partner! His mate!

How could he have hurt someone so close to him, so one who had seen him at both his best and his worst?

The tears wouldn't stop.

Eventually, his thoughts went back to Dib, the human who even despite their mutual hatred for one another still sought to help him. To get him off those horrid drugs and saw him as a... a friend.

Suddenly it felt like time itself had stopped. A friend.

Zim had a friend. Quietly the little alien stood up and whipped his eyes. He found himself staring up at the sky, just as Dib had. The clouds seemed to have gotten darker, it was likely going to rain soon.

He should probably get inside-

A hand came out from behind him and covered his mouth roughly, cutting off his thoughts as he went into a panic. That was before it all went dark.

"So uh... what is it exactly?" Tallest Purple asked a hand on his chin as he inspected the strange being before him, keeping his distance of course.

"A Murthen, my Tallest, female, foot soldier class." The Doctor spoke, his back upright and arms tucked neatly behind his back as he gave a quick bow.

They all stood on the bridge of the Massive. The two Tallest were near the controls while the Doctor and his captive stood at the other end of the bridge. Behind the Doctor stood Skoodge, the little Irken was practically sweating bullets as he clutched Raz's egg. He kept his mouth shut, but every time he even glanced at the Murthen or her collar it felt like another ton of weight was added to his shoulders.

"A Murthen?" Tallest Red gave a confused and disgusted look at the blue figure, "ok...but what's it doing on our ship."

"I believe she will be a great help to our mission to subdue Zim. Despite her lower rank, she is incredibly capable and has experience in both war and combat.

"I mean, so did Tak," Tallest Purple crossed his arms.

The Doctor actually laughed and it was the most haunting thing anyone in the room had ever heard. "Oh, my Tallest, Raz here, is certainly no Tak, trust me."

"I don't even trust the way you just said trust me," Purple muttered in the background as Tallest Red stepped forward.

"Murthen, Murthen where have I heard that name before?" He squinted his eyes at Raz as Tallest Purple stepped behind him, "was it a planet we conquered."

"I assure you my Tallest, Murth most likely will never be claimed," the Doctor hummed.

'He seems so sure of himself,' Skoodge thought.

"Why's that?" Tallest Red asked skeptically.

"This is why," the Doctor spoke as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

Before anyone had any idea what was going on, Raz raised her arm, showing a previously concealed weapon. She aimed it at one of the foodservice drones and fired and a blue beam-like laser shot out.

"AHHHHHH!!!" A scream ripped through the room as the service drone fell to the floor, the donuts he was carrying, splattering beside him. He had been shot in the lower abdomen and was clutching his melting chest in a frenzy. He was quite literally melting on the floor. Eventually, he fell silent as he collapsed on the floor, smoke coming off his body.

The two Tallest jumped back in fear, "WHAT IN THE US WAS THAT?!" Purple screamed.

"Show them," The Doctor gestured to the two with his head.

Raz held out the gun, displaying it in front of the two leaders. It was small and compact, not unlike the blasters the Irkens used. This one however was silver with a grey handle, on the sides of the round barrel were tempered glass that displayed a blue liquid.

"This is just a ground soldier-grade weapon. Yet it has the capabilities to destroy Irken armies. It's filled with a chemical compound known as H2O aka water. Due to our solubility when an Irken comes in contact with it, we tend to melt. However, that's not everything. The water is also mixed with a compound only found in Murthen waters, it is known as Gr4F8 aka Blue Gix. Mixed with water it lowers the boiling point to room temperature and creates energy in the form of light and heat. This creates the beam you just witnessed. This gun alone could destroy our entire empire and that's not even half of it." The Doctor nodded toward Raz and she lowered the gun.

"This is the kind of weaponry that can be expected on Murth, that is why we can not conquer it yet. I'm sure with a bit of studying we could find a way to make ourselves immune to this but until then. We'll just have to leave Murth unconquered. At the moment, however, I believe we should get back to the topic of Zim."

"R-right right, Zim," Tallest Red stuttered, trying to keep his composer. "Are you sure she's fit for the job?"

"Oh my Tallest, you have no idea," the Doctor smiled that irksome smile of his.

"Zim won't know what hit him."

The rest of the discussion seemed to fade out for Skoodge as he stared, wide-eyed at the dead Irken before him. He had just been shot, no warning, no nothing. He was just doing his job and he was shot and then forgotten about. Like his life meant nothing.

Already some of the cleaning drones had come over, collecting the body to be disposed of. Most likely going to be tossed out of the airlock like trash.

Skoodge looked to the egg in his hands, little Mur. Every time he looked at her he just felt more and more guilty. Her carrier was being controlled against her will and he was the cause of it.

Now he had to carry her around, an actual burden on his shoulders.

"Alright then, I guess it's settled, we'll be leaving the quadrant in a few hours to start heading for Earth," Tallest Red's voice cut into Skoodges thoughts and he felt panic run through him, that means they'll be leaving Murth and Raz's family.

Before Skoodge had a chance to voice his concerns, the Doctor was already leaving with Raz in tow.

Quickly Skoodge ran after them, once they were out of the bridge and in one of the Massive's many hallways he spoke up, "Doctor! What about the egg! There's no water on the ship!"

"Your pretty good at stating the obvious," the doctor hummed, not even bothering to look at him.

"B-but-"

"Look Skoodge, I already told you. If you want the egg, you can keep it. But that makes it your problem, not mine," the Doctor growled, getting agitated by the shorter Irken's nagging.

"But Doctor!"

Suddenly the Doctor spun around and pointed glaringly at him, "no! I'm tired of hearing your squeaky insignificant voice!" He shouted, "one more word out of you and I'll reveal the secret about your lack of pills to the Tallest!"

At first, Skoodge was terrified but one look at the child, strapped to his chest and he was quick to shoot a glare of his own. "And reveal yourself?! Fat chance!"

"Oh please! you don't think I don't already have the Tallest under my thumb?!"

Skoodge paused and stared up at the Doctor wide-eyed, "what?"

"You heard me, I've had them on my drugs since day one! I have nothing to fear from them. Just like I have nothing to fear from you! You short, intolerable, idiotic, service drone!" The Doctor raised his hand to smack Skoodge only to collapse to his knee in pain. He grimaced and gripped his right leg in pain, a new bump already showing through his pants.

"Damn it!" He snarled and began to roll up his pant leg, showing the ugly lump on his calf. To even the Doctor's horror, it seemed to be splitting off into two.

"Damn things are getting worse," he muttered to himself and looked to Skoodge expectantly.

Almost on instinct, Skoodge pulled out 4 syringes from his pac only to pause before approaching.

"What the hell are you doing, help me!" The taller Irken demanded.

"No! I will do no such thing until we return Raz and her egg back home!" Skoodge demanded himself.

"And ruin your chances of taking over the control brains and getting Zim back?" The Doctor sneered, gripping his leg tighter now.

"The ends don't justify the means, Doctor!" Skoodge snarled.

"Fine," the Doctor stammered out, already looking out of breath from the pain. "W-with friends like you, who needs enemies," he growled and snapped his fingers, and Raz, who had been standing beside him stoically this whole time, tackled Skoodge.

The scariest part wasn't those sharp webbed fingers, or those strong four arms, no it was those cold eyes. Raz looked completely dead on the inside like she was just a body heading the commands of something that wasn't her. It was terrifying.

She was quick and strong as he pinned his arms and legs down before grabbing the needles from his hands and kicking him away once she got what she was after. Not even bothering to be careful about her egg, thankfully Skoodge used his own body as a shield for the fragile thing.

After that, she knelt before the Doctor and began to siphon out more of that green stuff from the lumps. She managed to get one of the lumps to go down but it seemed the remaining two syringes weren't enough to lessen the larger one. Only reduce it, as Raz got up to get more from Skoodge she was stopped by the Doctor standing up.

"Leave it, this will do for now," he hissed as he pulled his pant leg back down, hiding the bump. "And you," the Doctor glared at Skoodge.

"You're lucky I'm far too busy right now to deal with you. I do however have this to say,"  he looked down on Skoodge the lighting making him look absolutely terrifying. "If you pull that again, I'll make you watch as I dissect that egg." With that threat, the Doctor turned around and left Skoodge on the floor, Raz following obediently behind him.

Skoodge felt sick to his stomach like he was about to throw up. He clutched the egg tightly, trying desperately not to cry. How was he supposed to go on? He needed to save Zim, but at the same time, just the thought of abandoning Mur and Raz left Skoodge feeling sick.

"Oh, what do I do," Skoodge held up the egg, staring at the little Murthen inside as if she could give him an answer. What worried Skoodge was just how developed she was now. Her four arms had all formed and little pink and purple spots decorated her body, soon to make the pattern of one or both of her parents. Her eyes were slightly open now too. Revealing dark purple eyes.

"Oh Mur, you're going to hatch soon aren't you?" Tears started to form in Skoodge's eyes, "and your carrier won't even be there to witness it." Skoodge covered his mouth with one hand as he scooted to press his back against the wall in revelation, "and it's all my fault."

"I'm a monster," he whispered in horror. Just as he was about to break down, crying. Skoodge felt a shift in the egg and looked down at the little Murthlet inside. She had moved her hands from the clutched position they had before to the shell of the egg. She had just placed all four of them there and it completely mesmerized Skoodge. Four little blue hands with little webbing in between, even tiny little claws on each finger.

Skoodge felt a small blush form on his face in surprise before a small smile crept onto it as well. He placed his forehead on the shell, ignoring the slight burning sensation it caused, and smiled.

"I know I've hurt you and your family. But I swear on my life, I'll keep you safe, I promise."

[imaginejamesandsirius]

fic where sirius runs away from his house after walburga and orion go way too far, so he rocks up at james’ with a butload of injuries but it’s ok because they’re all soft and there’s love confessions and fluff 🤒

((A/N: Mentions of child abuse but nothing graphic))

The Potter parents had long ago extended an open invitation to Sirius: any time, night or day, Sirius was allowed to walk right in. He didn't have to call first, and he didn't have to knock. "Any time at all, dear," Mrs. Potter had said with a kind, too-perceptive smile. "You can have a reason-- or not. It doesn't matter." She knew what went on at the Black household behind closed doors. If she didn't know for sure, she at least had a good idea. 

Sirius had wanted to pretend like he didn't need their help, but he'd found himself sneaking out of Grimmauld Place more than once over the years. 

This time was worse than the rest. He walked in, shaking. After he closed the door, he didn't know what to do. He leaned against the wall next to it and slowly slid down until he was sitting. He tugged ineffectually at the knots on his boots. The laces were wet, and his hands were cold from the rain. And he was still shaking. The familiar smell of their home made him feel safe, and the adrenaline was leaving him at a rapid pace. He managed to get his shoes off, and a few tugs later found his soaked socks resting on their good hardwood. 

He was too tired to get to his feet, and he didn't think his legs would hold him right now, anyways. He brought his knees up to his chest and leaned heavily against the wall as his eyes fluttered shut. The sound of rain outside the front door soothed some of his nerves; he liked storms. If he were here under other circumstances, he'd turn into Padfoot and go play in the yard. As it stood, he stayed where he was and avoided taking any breaths that were too deep since doing so would make his ribs hurt with a sharp pain. 

He sat in the entryway on the floor for long enough that an ache had settled into the parts of him that he was putting weight on. Gingerly, he got to his feet. He shrugged out of his jacket and let it fall on the floor, then he ambled towards the living room. Their couch was bloody comfortable, Sirius knew from previous use. It would be easy to fall asleep there. He wanted to go upstairs and crawl into bed with James because James always made him feel better, but he didn't have faith in his ability to make it up all of the stairs on his own. 

There was a blanket over the back of the couch-- one that Mr. Potter had made while recovering from a potion's accident-- and Sirius pulled it into his hands before he sat down. 

He fell into a fitful sleep, and it was only a couple hours later when he woke up to James saying, "Sirius?" 

"Hey," he said, peeking an eye open to look at his best mate. 

"Why didn't you come up? You know I wouldn't have minded." 

"Too tired," Sirius said. 

"You want some help getting there?" James offered. 

"Sure." When he got to his feet, he didn't put the blanket down. He was groggy enough that he didn't consciously think about it, but he would've resisted if James tried to get him to leave it here. 

*

The next morning, Sirius was aware of more aches and pains than he had been when he came in. Naively, he'd thought that that meant he wasn't as badly hurt as he'd thought whenever he left. 

All the deep bruises and bleeding cuts in the world didn't hurt as bad as what Mr. Potter found on the doorstep, though: a bag of Sirius's things. Sirius hadn't been the one to pack it, and he sure as hell hadn't let it trail behind him all night long as he'd made his way here. There wasn't a letter attached to it; there didn't need to be. 

Sirius had hated living in Grimmauld Place. He'd hated his parents and every moment he'd spent around them was a moment he desperately wished he could be somewhere else. So why the hell did it hurt so bad to be kicked out? After all, he'd been the one to leave last night, like he always did. His parents were the ones to send the message that he shouldn't come back, and it hit a lot harder than Sirius would've liked. 

Swiftly on the news of telling Sirius that his belongings had been left on their door, Mr. Potter assured him that he could stay with them. "Until we die, and probably after that too," Mr. Potter had said with a brief, joking smile. None of them knew how to comfort Sirius about this. Sirius didn't know if he even wanted to be comforted. 

As always, James was there. 

In a move that surprised Sirius, James managed to make him feel better. James was usually good about that sort of thing-- he was practically an expert in cheering Sirius up after so many years of friendship-- but Sirius had rather thought that he was going to be in a poor mood for at least a week before he started to even out. 

"I've got good news," James declared. 

If Sirius were in a usual temperament, he would've made a joke about how James's existence was always good news, but what made today extra special? He wasn't in a joking sort of mood though, so he said, "What?" 

"I love you." 

"That's hardly news." 

"Is it news if I say I fancy you?" 

"Do you?" Sirius asked. 

"Course I do. And I know that you're not in the sort of mood to be dealing with any of it, but I wanted to let you know that just because your parents are pants at loving you doesn't make it impossible. And you may not want to hear it, but I'm happy you're away from them. I know they're your parents and family means a lot to the Black family, but you don't need them. You need... us. You and me, and Mum and Dad, and Moony and Wormtail. Your bloody parents and cousins can rot. Except for Andromeda," James added thoughtfully. "She's nice." 

Sirius blinked at him. "I feel like you're trying to distract me from your rather unspectacular love confession. I deserve fireworks, Prongs." He spread his hands to show the absence. "I don't see any fireworks." 

"There are fireworks in my heart," James tried, pairing it with a beaming smile. 

It was like a dam broke in Sirius. Since getting the news that he'd been kicked out, he'd been sad at first, and then fallen into something like numb depression. He'd been sad, but he'd also felt like he couldn't feel anything. It was a stupid joke. Barely a joke and more of an attempt to shift the focus from how un-monumental of love confession it had been. In the past, when Sirius had dreamt about James telling him that he fancied him, it had been far nicer. Usually, they were sitting on the same bed reading books they'd sneaked out of the Forbidden Section and joking around, and then James would look at him and Sirius would know what he was going to say before he opened his mouth. Other times they were in Hogsmeade at Zonko's or Three Broomsticks while Wormtail and Moony were doing something else, and James would put an arm around him and kiss him like there was almost nothing different. Sometimes there were flowers. A lot of times, when Sirius was laying in bed at night and dreaming of the world-stopping romance he wanted his life to be, James would have this big long speech about how long he'd loved Sirius and how it was all he'd been able to think about so he had to tell him because he couldn't hold it in any longer. 

The point is, he'd always imagined it to be happy. Maybe it was a regular day, or maybe it was a day when Sirius was particularly happy, but it had always been a scenario where things were already going well. He'd never imagined that it would happen like this, with him feeling like so much rubbish and James announcing it as easily as if he were sharing news that they had gotten restocked on dungbombs. 

And he'd certainly never imagined that he would break into hysterical laughter that quickly turned into full on sobbing. In this moment, all he should want was to focus on James and what he'd just admitted, but it finally hit him that he was never going home again. That he had no one to call his parents, no back-up for when he got in trouble-- which he inevitably would. 

He pitched himself into James's arms and clung to him as he cried it out. It was... cathartic, he supposed. He actually felt better by the time he stopped. 

James was rubbing his back, he noticed. A warm comfort that reminded him of getting his head pat when he was Padfoot. "Are you okay?" James asked quietly. 

"Better than before," Sirius said. He wiped at his face with his hands but didn't stop leaning on James. "I can't believe you waited until my parents disowned me to tell me that." 

"I didn't mean to make you feel worse," he muttered. 

Sirius shook his head. "You didn't." Normally, he would've taken the opportunity to pull James into a kiss, but his face was kind of disgusting right now and that's not how he wanted their first kiss to be. "I erm, I mean, I fancy you too. You didn't make me feel worse. I just wasn't expecting it." 

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [56]

xi. the other side

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: language, fighting, shock batons, violence.

Summary: clarke makes a decision that you (and bellamy) don’t agree with, leaving you locked up and at odds with your twin.

a/n: a late upload today, my apology freinds! it’s been a crazy day for me today, but here we go!!!!!! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 29th, 2150; the Second Dawn Bunker

You and Bellamy stare at your twin in shock, not understanding why she thought this was a good plan. You can sense Bellamy’s rising anger, and when you realize that your twin left not only Kane but possibly Octavia on the surface, you feel a flash of anger along with him. Your boyfriend’s voice steadily starts to rise as he turns on Clarke. “How could you do this? There were only 4 warriors left, and Octavia was one of them! She might have won.”

Clarke comes around the desk, getting closer to you and Bellamy, trying to calm him down. “Bellamy, you're right, she had a chance. But Luna was in the final 4 as well, which means there is an even better chance of nobody getting into this bunker, of nobody surviving the end of the human race. Can you understand that?”

“Yeah, I can understand that you did what you think you had to do, like always. But you can't expect me to stay down here not knowing what happened to my sister.”

Jaha looks up from the plans he’s been studying, shaking his head in frustration. “We're not opening that door, son!”

You turn on Jaha, his words spiking your anger, and snap, “You know what? We must have missed the election that made you Chancellor again.”

He cuts his eyes at you, but whatever flimsy remark he was preparing to send your way is cut off by your mom entering the office, looking around in confusion. “I was setting up the infirmary, and I heard people in the corridor. Is it over? Did we win?”

You turn to your mom. “We don't know. Because your golden child made a monumentally stupid decision.”

Her eyes narrow, not understanding the quip, but knowing that you only use the golden child insult when you’re really pissed. She seems to do a quick scan of the room again before she asks, “Where's Marcus?”

“He was in the tower. We sent some people for him, Bellamy, and Octavia.” Jaha tries his best to look upset, but he doesn't play the part well. Your mom looks at you, starting to understand, before turning her glare onto Jaha. “These two were the only ones we could get in time. I'm sorry.”

“Give me your radio, Marcus has his.”

“The walkies are no good down here.” 

Clarke walks around to the desk and hits a button, revealing a secret panel that starts to lift slowly. Nestled inside are a few computer screens, displaying the outside radiation levels, and a radio. Jaha turns to her in surprise and scolds, “Clarke.”

“I'm letting them say goodbye.”

You and Bellamy come around the desk towards the radio, and your mom starts to follow, only to be cut off by Jaha standing in her path. “I understand your need to know, but I promise you there is nothing but more pain on the other side of that radio. The radiation levels have become critical, so people outside are already feeling the effects. Once they realize that we took this bunker, it'll be chaos, and if we open that door, we let that chaos inside.”

Your mom snaps, “I understand. Now, get the hell out of my way.”

She pushes her way past him and comes to stand on your other side as Bellamy fiddles with the adjustment on the hidden radio. “The walkies are set to 21.5 megahertz.”

You hear static as he reaches the right level, and a second later, Octavia’s voice comes through. “Can anyone hear me? Over. This is Octavia, can anyone hear me, damn it?”

Bellamy grabs the radio, a smile on his face, both of you exchanging a look, knowing what it means to hear her voice. Beside you, your mom looks equally as shocked as Bellamy answers his sister’s plea. “O, it's me. You ok?”

“I'm alive, I won. Bell, what the hell did you do?”

“It wasn't me, but I'll fix it.”

“Listen to me, when I won, I decided to share the bunker with everyone. A hundred from each clan. Kane is out there buying us time, helping them select their people, and Gaia somehow convinced the scouts to lock down the temple. But if anybody finds out that Skaikru stole the bunker, we're all dead.”

You see fear creep up on Bellamy’s face, and then determination, not willing to let anything happen to his little sister. “Copy that, we’re on our way.”

As the words leave his mouth, the door to the office opens, and Jaha waves a group of guards inside, Miller at the forefront. Jaha leads them towards you, pointing at Bellamy. “Turn off the radio.”

You glare at him, “Didn’t you hear her? We can save them!”

Bellamy lifts the radio and mutters, “O, I'm gonna need some time.”

“Wait, what? Bellamy, they don't have t-”

Jaha yanks the radio from his hand, cutting her off, and you, your mom, and Bellamy all turn to look at him in shock. Bellamy snaps, “Did you hear her? The Grounders are listening to her now, but they won't be for much longer. I am opening that door.”

“I'm sorry, but right now, our people are safe. We cannot risk that.”

“To stop me, you're gonna have to kill me.”

Jaha nods at the guards, and they start to move closer, positioned in three places in the room, ready to catch any of you if you run. You turn to Clarke, giving her an incredulous look. “Clarke. Octavia won. Do the right thing and open the doors.”

She says nothing, just clenches her jaw and looks away, and you turn towards Bellamy, both of you sharing a knowing look. As if you’re both hearing the same silent countdown in your heads, you turn and each take off in different directions around the desk. You hear Bellamy knock one of the guards to the ground as you slip by your mom and Clarke, only for Jaha to step into your path. He dives at you and you side step him, his arms missing you by inches. You immediately swing your elbow around and smash it into his face, satisfaction running through you when you make contact. The pain knocks him off guard for a second and you shove him hard, knocking him to the ground, before turning towards the door again. 

Miller and the other guard have Bellamy held in between them, and Bellamy struggles and manages to knock the other guard away. He slips from Miller’s grasp and starts to run, only for Miller to pull out his shock baton and light it up, holding it to your boyfriend’s back until he gasps with pain and hits the ground. You let out a yell of rage and run straight at Miller, knocking him into the wall behind him, the shock baton falling out of his hand. He swings a punch at you as soon as he recovers, hitting you in the face, and you bring your knee up and land a hit on his stomach. He doubles over in pain and you start to swing your arm around to punch him when someone catches it from behind. 

You turn and see the first guard, the one Bellamy pushed to the ground, holding your fist, and you spin out of his grip and turn to face him. He moves quickly and swings his hand towards you, palm connecting with your face in a loud slap. The force of it snaps your head to the side and makes you bite your lip, and you turn back to him in shock, spitting out the blood that gathers in your mouth. The black blood hits the ground at his feet and he looks at it in shock just as you swing a kick towards him and knock him away. 

The other guard reaches you then and grabs your arm, holding you back from another attack. You start to wiggle free from his grasp when a shock baton makes contact with your side, sending electricity pulsing through your body as you gasp with pain, going slack in the guards arms. He releases you and lets you hit the ground, landing beside Bellamy, your eyes falling on his unconscious figure as you see the darkness rushing towards you, pulling you under.

-

You wake up to the sound of Bellamy’s frustrated yelling, echoing out in whatever space you’re in. 

You pull your eyes open, your vision landing on your boyfriend first, standing close to you, his hands zip tied to a chain that's bolted to the floor. With a sickening realization, you see that you’re secured in the same way, cuffed to a chain, locked away in some sort of electrical room. You lift your hands, staring at the chain, and shake your head in disgust, dropping your hands again, rattling the chain in the process. Bellamy must hear the sound because he turns towards you, relief flooding his features as soon as he sees you. He runs over to you, dropping to his knees in front of you, his hands lifting to your cheeks the best they can, skimming over your already forming bruise, courtesy of Miller. “Are you okay?”

You nod your head, and his eyes check you over, confirming your words. He whispers, “Good. I have a plan. We need to get your mom down here. Someone is outside guarding us, I heard them talking a minute ago. I think if I raise enough hell and hurt myself, they’ll send your mom down to fix me up.”

You look at his wrists, already red and starting to get bloody, and you grimace, not wanting to watch him hurt himself. But you also know it's the best way to get her down here, because she’s the only person that is likely to help the two of you and get you out of this. So you nod, lean forward and press a kiss to his lips, and whisper, “Do it for Octavia.”

He stands and starts to yell again, “Get us out of here! Help me! Let us go!”

He turns and bangs on the metal pipes nearby, and then he pounds on the walls, before starting up again. “No! Let us go! Get us out!”

It takes a few minutes of him repeating this cycle of yelling, pounding, and banging before finally the door opens and someone steps inside. You're not sure who you’re expecting to walk around the corner towards you, but it certainly isn’t Murphy. 

“Bellamy, what the hell are you doing? You're just hurting yourself!”

You stand, watching Murphy look between the two of you warily, and Bellamy starts to beg. “Murphy. Untie us, please.”

“I can't do that. Look, I'm sorry about your sister, but-”

Bellamy cuts him off, “You let us go!”

“I can't, okay? We can't open that hatch, so stop doing this to yourself before I call medical and knock your ass out.”

He starts to walk away and Bellamy gives you a desperate look, breaking your heart. You make a last ditch effort and call out to Murphy, “Murphy, please! I didn’t let Emori die, don't let Octavia die! Let us go and we can save her!”

His face is full of regret when he turns to look back at you and Bellamy. “This is only gonna be for a few days.”

Bellamy yells, “She'll be dead in a few days!”

“Yeah, I'm sorry.”

And though he actually looks sorry, he turns and walks out of the room, leaving you and Bellamy to yell after him, both of you tugging on your restraints now. You feel the flexicuffs bite into your skin, but you don't care, your mind too focused on trying to make an escape and save Octavia, and Kane, and the rest of the human race. Because you won’t allow yourself to be the monster that war created. Even if it means the end of you, you know opening the door to save the others is the right thing to do, and there’s no way you’re going down without a fight.

-

Time passes differently when you’re locked up in a bunker, reminding you of the time you spent locked up on the Ark, and of the time you spent awiting your execution in Arkadia. You and Bellamy take turns yelling and making as much noise as possible, hoping Murphy will eventually call your mother down to knock you out, giving you the opportunity to convince her to help you. 

It takes a few hours, but that opportunity eventually comes, and your mother steps inside, looking between you and Bellamy in shock. His wrists are much worse than yours, red and raw, dripping blood in his wake. Yours are bruised, covered in a splatter of black blood, the color still shocking and unfamiliar to you. Your mom walks to you first but you shake your head. “Bellamy first.”

She nods and kneels down between the two of you, pulling out her medkit to start on cleaning Bellamy up. He whispers, “It's about time. We didn't do this to our wrists for fun.”

“You want me to help you open the door.”

She doesn't say it like a question, but you answer as if she did. “Yes. Mom, I saw your face when Octavia answered on the radio, and I know how you feel about Kane. He’s still out there, trying to keep the peace. If the Grounders find out what Jaha and Clarke did, Kane will pay the price, and it won’t be merciful.”

“You don't think I know that?”

Bellamy whispers, “Do better today than we did yesterday. That's what he told me. That's how we deserve to survive.”

She looks between the two of you, considering your words, trying to decide what she wants to do. You can tell the second she makes the decision, because she relaxes a little, resigned to whatever happens now. “How do we do it?”

You look around the room, calculating everything, before you decide, “Let Bellamy go first, and he can hide. You call for help, Murphy comes inside, we knock him out. Then you lead us out of here, since we don’t know the way, and we get the door open. Sound like a plan?”

Bellamy agrees instantly, “Yes.”

Your mom considers again, before she nods. “But I want to clean both of you up first.”

“Fine.”

She bandages both of you as quickly as possible, before she uses the scissors in her medical kit to cut off Bellamy’s cuffs and free him. Then she drops them onto the flimsy mattress they set up for you and Bellamy to sleep on, along with the discarded bloody rags, and she motions for Bellamy to hide. You scramble into the corner, mostly out of sight, before your mom calls out, “John? I need you! Come quick!”

Murphy runs inside the room, running right past Bellamy, who is hidden in the darkness, and he stares down at the scene in front of him, seemingly looking like Bellamy has escaped. “Shit.”

The word barely leaves his mouth before Bellamy runs towards him and wraps his arm around his neck, squeezing just enough to knock him out. Murphy struggles against him, and pulls out the shock baton, but Bellamy quickly knocks it out of his hand before squeezing again. Within seconds Murphy loses consciousness, and Bellamy lays him out onto the bed, as your mom drops down and checks him over. 

“He'll be fine.'' She seems convinced by Bellamy’s reassurance, and she passes him the medical scissors so he can help free you as she suddenly remembers, “He's not our problem. The airlock control is in the main office, so is Jaha. You have a plan for that, too?”

Bellamy nods, “Yeah, open the damn door or die trying.”

You stand, now free from your bonds, and follow your mom as she leads you out the door. You sneak through the service tunnels, avoiding the main hallways as much as you can, until she finally leads you to a door and motions for you to stop. She whispers, “You two stay here, I’ll open the door when I've taken care of Jaha.”

She starts to walk away, but you grab her arm to stop her. “Wait, how are you going to do that?”

She holds up a little container of drugs, one of the ones from Becca’s lab. You have no idea what’s inside, but it must work like the Reaper sticks and knock people unconscious, because she seems confident that it will be enough. You nod, understanding, and she turns and runs off, leaving you and Bellamy alone. The two of you wait in the darkness of the hall, pressed together, buzzing with adrenaline, waiting for the next stage of the plan. You can tell when it begins because a muffled conversation is being held on the other side of the door, too quiet for either of you to hear. After a minute though, you realize the office must be on the other side, and it must be your mom talking to Jaha, though you have no idea what about.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, because a few minutes later the door swings open and she stands there, waving to the two of you inside. She runs over to the computer at the desk, and looks down at the controls. “Let’s do this.”

She plops down into the chair and you glance on the other side, seeing Jaha’s unconscious body sprawled out on the floor. Your mom reads a manual spread out on the desk, and then looks up at you and Bellamy. “It takes two people to open the doors, one from above and one from here. Get into position.”

You and Bellamy nod and run out of the office, making a beeline for the door at the top of the ramp. Bellamy tugs on it, still locked, and you and Bellamy exchange an anxious look. As you wait for the door to the airlock room to open, you hear footsteps running towards you, and you turn and get a glimpse of blonde hair just as the door beeps. You turn back and push Bellamy inside, following him to the set of stairs that leads to the hatch to the surface. Bellamy’s hand is reaching for the lever when a voice yells out, “Bellamy, stop!”

You hear the sound of a gun cocking and you both turn and see Clarke standing near the open door, her gun pointed towards Bellamy. He starts to argue with her, ignoring the gun in her hand, “We don't have time for this. The radiation is getting worse, and people are dying up there.”

He starts to reach for the door again but she turns and shoots the door, forcing the two of you to duck and cover your heads. You step up the stairs more, positioning your body in front of Bellamy’s before you turn towards your twin, stunned that you’ve even found yourself in this position. “Clarke, what are you doing?”

“What I have to, like always. Now, get away from the door.”

“No.” You set your jaw, unwilling to back down. “This isn't like shutting the dropship door, or pulling the lever in Mount Weather and the City of Light. We knew what we were stopping then, but now we know nothing.”

“We know that if that door stays shut, the human race survives.”

You shrug, “You’re gonna have to make it a kill shot then. Go ahead and put a bullet in your twin, because that’s the only way you're gonna stop me.”

Her hand shakes slightly as she aims the pistol at you, contemplating her next move, and you decide to push her further. You remember the words she threw in your face when you helped Bellamy get rid of Raven’s radio, and you decide to weaponize them now and use them against her. “What would dad say?”

Her hand shakes harder as she wrestles with her decision, and she starts to cry, tears falling down her face. She ducks her head and lowers the weapon, unable to go through with it, unable to kill her other half. You turn and glance at Bellamy, still standing behind you. “Get it open.”

He scrambles to the top of the stairs and opens the hatch, all while you keep an eye on Clarke, unsure if she’ll change her mind. But she never does, she just stands frozen in place and cries, and for once in your life, you make no move to comfort her. Once Bellamy disappears on the surface, you turn and follow him up, stepping into the temple just as Bellamy and Octavia collide in a hug. You smile at the sight of the reunited Blake siblings, all of their earlier anger and disagreements gone, replaced with nothing more than relief and love for each other. You walk closer to them and hear Bellamy whisper, “I love you so much.”

Your smile grows wider, and her eyes find yours over his shoulder, smiling at you in return. The moment ends when Indra calls out, “Octavia, they're here.”

They pull apart and Octavia walks forward, stopping at Indra’s side as the Flamekeepers lead in the ambassadors from each clan. They all stop just inside the door, looking towards her, and Octavia stands taller as she addresses them. “Oso laik won kru. En dison laik oso hou.”

We are one clan. And this is our home. She turns, and starts to walk back towards you, until she abruptly grabs Indra’s sword and points it at someone you didn't notice before. 

Echo. 

You were so focused on the Blake sibling reunion that you didn't even see her standing there. Probably for the best, because you feel a flash of anger as soon as you see her. Octavia holds her sword to Echo's neck. “Everyone except you.” 

“We had a deal. You said-”

Octavia cuts her off, voice low and angry. “I said your people would live. I didn't say anything about you. You can tell them we stole the bunker if you want, but the door's open now, so…”

She trails off, not needing to say anymore, and Indra steps closer to her. “Be thankful knowing your banishment will be short.”

Echo lifts a brow, knowing there’s nothing she can say to reverse this decision, and she mutters, “Praimfaya awaits.”

You all watch her turn and slip out of the room, disappearing from view, no longer your problem. Octavia, your family, Skairipa, the victor of Skaikru, turns back to her people, motioning towards the bunker door, “Monin hou.”

Welcome home. You smile at her, looking over her smudged make up and the blood splattered all over her face, so far from the girl hidden under the floor. And though you never knew her then, you know her now, and you’re proud. Proud of the strength she’s gained, the confidence she has, the leadership she’s now taking on. When you look over at Bellamy, you can tell he's thinking the same thing, both of you watching on as she leads the ambassadors towards the entrance to their new home.

-

As expected, chaos begins as soon as the clans enter the bunker.

The 100 survivors from each clan, minus Skaikru, have all gathered in the atrium of the bunker, awaiting instructions. All of you scramble to figure out the best way to get Skaikru from their beds and narrowed down to 100, so you can move all of the Grounders into their spots. Amidst the chaos of the planning, Raven radioes to let all of you know she’s still alive, and no longer going through with her spacewalking plans. She reversed her brain problems and seizures, and now awaits pick up to be brought back to the bunker to live with the rest of you. 

But the plans of her rescue get put on the back burner in favor of the plans in the bunker. Which is where you all stand now, in the office, standing around a map, trying to figure things out. You, your mom, Kane, Octavia, and Indra are listening to Kane’s thoughts, while Clarke stands nearby, half listening, half avoiding everyone, and Jaha stands at the door, looking out at the Grounders. He ignores everything Kane is saying, and turns around, pissed, glaring at the man he left outside to die. “You call this justice?”

Octavia’s response to him is cool and calm, unbothered by Jaha’s anger. “I call this making things right, thanks to my brother.”

Jaha turns his glare to Clarke. “You let this happen.”

The words visibly affect her, and she glances over at you, looking upset. You look away, not wanting to meet her eye, still pissed that she pointed a gun at you and Bellamy. Jaha continues, “How many of us have to die?”

Indra’s anger is less contained than Octavia’s, as evidenced by her response. “You're lucky it's not all of you.”

“Lucky?”

“We have 100 spots. The other clans have all chosen their survivors. We have to do the same.”

Jaha looks at Kane in shock, dissatisfied with his response. “100. We have over 4 times that.”

You roll your eyes at him. “A pain that I’m sure the other clans feel too.”

Jaha turns his anger back on Clarke. “Is this what you wanted?”

She shakes her head. “No one wanted this.”

“Want's got nothing to do with this!” Octavia’s calm anger finally explodes, tired of listening to Jaha’s whining. Not that you blame her. She turns to look at him, laying down the law. “Skaikru gets 100 beds, same as everybody else. Bellamy and his girl get one of them, the rest are up to you.”

She walks towards the door, tired of this meeting and this conversation. As she reaches it, she turns back to deliver one final message. “The death wave comes in 24 hours. You've got 12 to decide.”

And with that she walks out of the room, leaving the rest of you to watch her leave and handle the chaos left behind from her decision.

-

next chapter

[aleximedicusa]

ok lewis meeting his teacher under the cut

Almost immediately, I was struck by the stench of the place. I have always considered myself strong-stomached, but even I nearly gagged. I was familiar enough with the smell of decay in general, having come across my fair share of dead animals in my time, but there was a sharpness to this stench that was entirely foreign. The closer I drew to the main room of the school, the worse it got, until I was obliged to press my hand over my nose and mouth to keep down the rise of bile. I took a moment to compose myself, then entered. 

I ought to have been prepared for the sight that greeted me, but I was not. Off to the side was a young, modestly-dressed gentleman arranging his tools, but I scarcely noticed him; my attention, instead, was drawn by the corpse laid bare on the table at the theatre’s centre. She — for it was, to my shock and embarrassment, a woman — was entirely nude, with the cavity of her torso split open to reveal the ribcage and the organs it protected. She did not show many visible signs of decay, but judging by the unbearable stench emanating from her, she was less than freshly dead. The viscera was shockingly, disgustingly red, and although the aspiring man of science in me wished to compare the sight to the diagrams I had studied, animal instinct urged me to put as much distance between myself and the fetid thing as possible. The sight was nearly enough to send me right back out the door that I had just entered, but by some monumental force of will, I remained. 

Evidently, my entrance had drawn the attention of the man arranging his tools, for he turned and set his eyes on me not long after I had stepped past the threshold. My shock and disgust must have shown on my face, for he smiled in a knowing sort of way, wiped his hands on his stained apron, and drew up the sheet on the table to cover the woman’s body from view. It did very little to dampen the smell, but I was privately relieved that her organs were now out of view. Tension that I never realised I was holding bled out of my shoulders. 

With the body taken care of, the man approached. As he drew nearer, I realised that he was not just young, but shockingly so; the gentleman could not have been much more than five years my senior, if that. I had not expected a man as old as Cooper, but I had expected one at least past his thirtieth year. Before I could speculate much upon his age and circumstances, however, he held out a hand to me, and I, doing my best not to notice the blood under the fingernails, shook it firmly. Smiling again, he asked, “A prospective student, I take it?”

“I— yes. Yes, indeed.” My voice, at least, came out steadier than I feared it might. Withdrawing my hand from his, I laced my fingers nervously in front of myself. “I have just come from Guy’s. A dresser was kind enough to recommend your school.”

At the mention of Guy’s, his face hardened slightly. With a faint grimace, he undid the ties of his apron and lifted it over his head, then stepped aside to hang it on a nearby hook. “Not a favourable impression of the honourable Cooper, then.” He did not phrase it as a question. 

“No.” Knowing what little I did of the animosity between them, I saw no reason for pretence. “Nor do I think he formed a favourable impression of me. Not inclined to play mentor to a backwater Welshman.” I nearly remarked that it was rather rich of him, as a student of a backwater Scotsman, but I held my tongue on that score. 

With a faint air of amusement, Grainger turned back to me again and replied, “It is to your good fortune that you have come here, in that case. I have no quarrel with Welshman, backwater or otherwise. You shall be judged here by skill and merit alone.”

[sasukyss]

Self-insert Harry Styles fanfic

Starring @weshouldkiss420 as the bully (Sierra is weshouldkiss for the newbies)

Please take into account that I only have a vague idea of who Harry Styles is, I'm not willing to google who he actually is. Ok! Let's get this show on the road!!

You walk into class, preparing yourself or what's to come.

"What's up Chrollo fucker!"

You tense, turning around to stare at Sierra's face. Ever since she found out about you being a Chrollo simp she hadn't left you alone.

"What do you want Sierra?" You keep your voice quiet, knowing that at the slightest sign of aggression Sierra will knock you out.

She grins, twirling a strand of hair from her Kurapika wig. After she found out about your bad taste in men Sierra had taken to wearing her Kurapika cosplay to school. If it were anyone else they would get bullied, but as it was Sierra, well... Let's just say the last kids who tried anything with her are still in the hospital.

"I heard a rumour that someone has started simping for a certain transphobe~." You don't have to look at Sierra to know that she's smiling.

"Honestly at this point it's almost your own fault, I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find out?" She laughs a bit at the end.

You shiver, knowing what's coming you try and make a run for it, but Sierra's too quick, she grabs the back of your t-shirt, her smile widens.

As you look around, trying to find an escape route, you notice that you and your bully are surrounded by your classmates. They all look excited for what to come.

You make eye contact with the Kurapika kinnie, her red eye contacts seem to glow. Sierra's smile sharpens.

"Now people!" she announces, "this is what happens to people who simp for the Ugly trio!"

The class cheers. You close your eyes, ready to be monumentally fucked up.

Just as the Kurapika kinnie raises her fist, ready to show people not to fuck with Kurapika simps, the door opens.

You hear gasps. As you slowly open your eyes, you see... Harry Styles!?

He looks around the classroom, taking in the situation. Sierra actually drops you from how shocked she is.

Everyone stares. As he walks into the class, you both lock eyes. His face seems to light up when he sees you. As he walks towards you, the crowd of students parts for him.

He spares Sierra a glance, disgust obvious on his face. It looks like for all of Sierras attractiveness Harry isn't into Kurapika simps.

He stops in front of you, leaning down, your lips are inches apart. You're so close to kissing him..

"HEY!", a shout interrupts you both, shattering the moment. Sierra glares at Harry.

"You do know thats pedophilia right?" The disgust on her face is enough to make anyone cringe.

Wait. She's right! You don't even like Harry Styles! His music is shit!

You push him away, horrified by what could of happened.

"W-what?" He stutters.

He seems shocked, is he not used to being rejected or something? What a dick!

"Ew, Harry Styles is a pedo" you hear from the crowd of students. You forgot they were there.

The students start murmuring in agreement, it progressively gets louder until the mob of students is shouting.

"Wait! It's not what it looks like!" Harry shouts, but its too late, the mob mentality has taken over.

You and Sierra watch as the mob if students grab at Harry's hair, tying him to a chair. One student runs out of the classroom to look for a lighter while the rest jeer at your would be boyfriend.

You and Sierra look at each other, before you can even say anything the Harry Styles murderer punches you in the face, knocking you out cold.

As your body falls to the floor, the students finally set Harry on fire. The cheering turns deafening.

Sierra watches all of this with a smile on her face, listening to Harrys screams.

ALRIGHT THIS TOOK ME THE BEST PART OF 3 HOURS, YOU BEST BE GRATEFUL.

My masterpiece.

@giantbiddiescatgirl @gons-fishingrod @ging-left-to-get-milk @idontclaimsilvazoldyck @togashicomeback

This is for all of u, but for especially Sierra ♥️.

[quolant]

tee & bee on sports night (1.05)

hey we're tee & bee and ur reading abt sports night on tumblr — where @thxngam live reacts to sports night in 2021 and sends me stuff and i post it

sports night 1.05 — mary pat shelby

Dana and Isaac is a relationship we haven’t seen much of but damn they must be good at working together

Dan you cannot grow a goatee

That sounds kinda disgusting ngl

Dana’s excitement is so cute I love her so much

“I’m talking to myself…and that can’t be a good sign.”

Mood

Why does Dan want to grow a goatee

That seems like a monumentally awful idea

Mary Pat Shelby for a hot second didn’t seem like a name

It sounded like someone named Mary patted someone named Shelby and I was very confused

Also this Chris Patrick guy seems like a dick and I’m concerned now

Casey is oddly pissed about this not talking about the elephant in the room thing

Like I’m mad but he seems especially mad

This Dana and Casey conversation is very intense

Dans taking a break from his values?

Tbh that’s a mood

“I swear you could run for Congress and win” Casey it’s sad that that’s still relevant

Natalie doesn’t seem ok

Like she seems down

Jeremy's sister tied him to a tree?

That’s oddly relatable

My sister ran me over with a bike once so I get it

Anyway

Aww Dana’s telling a joke

She’s precious

Dan and the goatee is gross

OMG NATALIE HONEY

Jeremy up and running out of the room is. Oddly emotional.

The look on Casey’s face when he realizes is doing something to me

Isaac offering to take her home is very paternal

Also Natalie it’s awesome that you want to stay but. Idk I’m conflicted about this.

Dana YES YOU PUT CASEY IN HIS PLACE

he is being a pompous jackass

Dana that’s a cunning deal but also it rubs me entirely the wrong way

Like Natalie denying it for the sake of another woman (who deserves respect and to be cared about by the general public too) and ratings is freaking me out

Also that Natalie isn’t even in the room while they’re talking about it

Also Dana’s kinda holding her wrist and it saddens me

Natalie’s face when she talks about how bad it would be hurts me

I hate that I understand what she’s talking about

This whole episode is very emotional

Jeremy and Chris Patrick talking is uh. Intense jfc

Dana sent her there on purpose?? JFC

I mean it’s obvious she feels bad about it but omg

I can’t with this

And after all that about “i'm a woman and i'm closer to Natalie than anyone else!” She sent her there on purpose??

Aww Casey that was sweet of you to cheer her up

Still grossed out by sending Natalie there on purpose but still it’s nice

Dana pressed her forehead to Casey’s hand and it’s kinda cute

Dan coming in to check on Natalie feels very big brother like to me

And Natalie’s frustration with ppl asking about her wrist resonates so hard I don’t know what to say

“It hasn’t been my experience that you need to be told that.”

that’s so nice

Aw he called her Nat

That’s cute

“No matter what you decide…you’ve got friends.”

DAN THAT'S SO SWEET

also Natalie’s face and voice as she talks about the other reporter is breaking my heart

“And this is what friends gear up for.”

I'm emotional

The look on Natalie’s face as Dan walks away hurts me

Dana’s rubbing her wrist again and I’m not sure that this has always happened and it’s just a thing for Dana or if it’s bc of what happened to Natalie but the little thing is

Idk how to describe but it means something ig

Ooh shit what’s happening

YES THEY'RE CANCELLING IT THANK GOD

Dana it was a good thing to call it off

The sending Natalie there on purpose thing is still gross but this is better

Women’s trauma shouldn’t be used for a career boost, both for Natalie and for Mary Pat Shelby who we never seen in this ep but deserves better

OMG CASEY AND DAN IN THE DOUCHEBAG'S FACE TALKING ABOUT THE GOATEE

“Yeah but it’s all going to change when I grow a goatee”

“He’s just crazy enough to do it too”

That’s love right there

Ngl cannot imagine dan with facial hair

Casey either

It ruins Casey’s blond, American apple pie look he’s got going on

And Dan looks so clean shaven that’s it’s just weird to me

OMG CASEY AND DANA'S LITTLE HAND SQUEEZE

and dan's knowing look

NATALIE, SWEETHEART, DARLING, LOVE OF MY LIFE SHE SAW HIM AND THREW THE FOOTBALL

she’s an underrated badass and I love her so much

It’s also a good thing thing that despite all the backlash she’s going to the station anyway

Also the douchebag is SUCH a douchebag

Goddamn he assaulted this amazing, intelligent, capable woman and he has the fucking nerve

“How much do you love me right now?”

An icon

Yeah he threw that fucking football

He can fuck right off

Aww Dana cupped Natalie’s cheek

THEYRE HUGGING AND IM TEARING UP

The way Dana said ‘I’m sorry’ I just

It wasn’t ok but also she’s not perfect and I get that she lost sight of her feelings and love for Natalie with the ratings

And that she allowed them to drop the interview

So this makes me feel better bc it’s stupid to want fictional characters to be perfect humans and this does seem in character for Dana

Like balancing out career and life

And yet I’m still mildly disturbed

Bc the unemotional career woman trope bugs me but also Dana is plenty emotional about it so it doesn’t line up with that?

But ofc she’s emotional after the fact?

Idk I have a lot of feelings rn

The HUG I want to CRY

“Tell me a joke, Dana”

That’s the sweetest thing