#shes used to getting mildly electrocuted by now
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has Cameron ever gotten scared and accidentally electrocuted someone?
well he never really got scared but he OBVIOUSLY did it on accident
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let me bleed (you're losing me) Ao3
Fandom: Naruto (Anime & Manga) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura/Nara Shikamaru, Haruno Sakura & Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura & Yamanaka Ino Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke, Nara Shikamaru, Hatake Kakashi, Yamanaka Ino, Sai (Naruto), Karin (Naruto), Uchiha Madara Additional Tags: Dubious Consent, Blood and Violence, Unhealthy Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Dark Uchiha Sasuke, Dark Nara Shikamaru, Protective Hatake Kakashi, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Self-Harm, Akatsuki (Naruto), War, Konoha 11 (Naruto), Everyone is Problematic ok?, Heavy Angst, Domestic Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fourth Shinobi War (Naruto), Memory Loss, PTSD, Manipulation, Bullying, Suicidal Thoughts, Degradation, Dacryphilia
Chapter 15 (chapter list)
Sasuke works to keep his temper even throughout Kabuto’s examination of Sakura. Shikamaru had warned him beforehand that she would not react well, perceiving the exam as an attack—taking both Shikamaru and Sasuke to convince her to agree to let Kabuto examine her. More than meeting those expectations, as Sasuke pulls the lightning shock that fills her mind and runs it straight into Kabuto.
Sasuke escorts the man back to Konoha. There’s a pep in Kabuto’s step, despite having just been mildly electrocuted. Thinking he now has an advantage over Sasuke. Kabuto is unfortunately too useful to the war effort—with all the dead ninja he’s been bringing back to life to fight for their side. Sasuke will have to bide his time to deliver his retribution—another name to add to his shrinking list—but it will come. He has no doubts about that.
“Just how long have you been keeping a little pet, Sasuke?” Kabuto breaks the silence as they near the village. Smirking as he turns to look at Sasuke’s reaction, instead finding an already activated sharingan.
“What pet?” Sasuke tilts his head as he grabs hold of the memory. Releasing the jutsu. Walking on like nothing ever happened. Inside Kabuto’s mind is a wicked place, full of his gross, based desires. Currently thinking far too much of all the testing and examinations he would enjoy performing on the still-ill Sakura. Memories stored like files in large open shelving units. Carefully tagged and color coded. Tightly packed together. Unlike Sakura's, whose mindspace seems to stretch on endlessly, Kabuto’s seems to be more like a very large plane, eventually meeting a boundary of capacity.
Sasuke shelves the memory in his own mind, with all the other odd-shaped ones he’s collected thus far. An immense maze of a library, Sasuke navigates with ease. Darkness drips through cracks and leaks in through the seams, coating rows and rows of book-like memories in a thick, foul black venom. Tainting his past with its cursedness. Transmuting his mind with its sinister nature.
Sasuke visits Sakura as often as he can at the Nara house without raising suspicion. Watching over her between missions if Shikamaru has need to venture into Konoha for a meeting with Madara. Pulling the buildup of static from her, popping them off away from her to avoid the sting of the shocks. Every day that passed has him more on edge. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. He's so, so close to having her and there’s not anything he can do to protect her if he’s not directly touching her when her seal of the chidori finally fails. (If he is unable to control it when the dam does burst.)
Shikamaru himself has been working on the chakra cuffs restraining her. Both getting Kakashi’s pair off and a new, improved set for the two to use to recontain Sakura, to ensure she remains safe and protected in their care until Sasuke can take out the threat that is Kakashi. But they can’t get the cuffs off. Shikamaru was sure that the two of them working in tandem were going to be able to, but something’s not working correctly, leaving her stuck. Trapped.
Sasuke’s tracking a whole skulk of chakra foxes that have ventured onto the Nara land. At least six of them this time. He takes out a handful right off the back, less for him to deal with as he follows the others. They are quite a ways from the house and are causing the deer to behave strangely. More skittish and jumpy than usual.
He feels the familiar vibration of Sakura thinking about ‘Kakashi-sensei’, slipping into the genjutsu, just enough to fling the shard of memory that she doesn’t like Kakashi up the string, catching it as it rebounds back through. Only to find that there’s a Sakura in Sakura’s mind. Right at the hard border of his space. Her glowing hands pressed against the barrier, trying to break it. He lets himself float through and land on the bottom, in her line of sight.
“Sakura,” he calls. His Sakura. She stands up straight, pulling off the jutsu as he strides for her. Caught at its limits as she backs away from him. Her eyes widen as she takes in Sasuke at the hard glass-like structure filled to the brim with her memories. Bone chilling fear seeping into her mind. Still backing away, one foot after the other, until she reaches the cross-arm of the webbing. “Sakura, won’t you come to me?”
The strings act like tributaries, starting off small—in the far reaches of her mind—before combining into each other time and time again, growing thicker as they reach the focal point that feeds into the conscious side of her mind. Sasuke currently holds a lot of power over who and what she remembers because both his and Naruto’s main lines run through his genjutsu. People like Shikamaru and Ino have their own lines, out of his reach. Ino’s waves closer towards Sasukes at one point before sloping closer to Shikamaru again. She’s used this closeness to create a new thin string to bridge the gap and another to reach Naruto’s. Naruto’s to Kakashi’s. The more time Sasuke spends in his spot in her mind, the better he gets at recognizing what belongs to who.
Thinner, more fragile strands connect branches crosswise. Connecting people to each other. A lot of the webbing is damaged, broken, and snapped in places. Sasuke’s line connects into Naruto’s just outside the jutsu. And together they have lines that feed into Kakashi’s.
Sakura weaves her way across and back down. Around–until she is on the other side of Sasuke’s jutsu. Reaching the point where she has to start healing, repairing broken strands to connect them to one another, retrieving memories she’s been unable to recover thus far from the damage of the lightning storms in her brain. While simultaneously creating a bypass around Sasuke’s hold in her mind.
Sasuke meets her at the point where Kakashi’s runs parallel to his and Naruto’s. Why is she ignoring him? Banging on the surface of the barrier with a fist. It sounds almost like ice cracking as it echoes through her mind. “Sakura!”
It startles her enough to get her to look at him again. Before scurrying on her way. Working her way back across to the memory she needs. The fear is morphing. Evolving. Alarm and horror and disgust. A storm building as she works. Sasuke pulls out of the genjutsu, abandoning his hunt to rush to Sakura.
He can’t sense her, but that is not abnormal. Both the barely trickling flow of her chakra system and the masking the cuff provides conceal her well from a distance. Less so, the closer you grow to her. There’s no sense of her as he approaches the house. Blood tracked over the yard and porch, continuing on into the bedroom Sakura should be occupying.
Bedding is scattered everywhere, blankets torn and solid with blood and the stench of rotting flesh.
“Sakura.” Sasuke calls out, drawing his sword. Following the trail. Deja-vu of another blood-soaked house overlays itself on his surroundings. Mother and Father. He still cannot sense her, and he nearly gags. Stomach turning. He had been too weak to protect them then. She is still alive. He can feel her in his mind.
“Sakura.” He swallows down the rising bile as he clears the house. Tracing the blood outside to the shed. “Sakura!”
The shed door is open as Sasuke approaches, kicking the door clean off its hinges. There is blood and black goo smeared everywhere. Still no Sakura. When he exits, Shikamaru is entering on the far side of the yard.
“Where is she?” Sasuke demands to know, striding across the yard. “She is gone. Where. Is. Sakura?”
Shikamaru eyes widen as he takes in the sight of the yard, the state of Sasuke. Brushing past Sasuke to enter the shed himself. Slamming its contents around. Racing toward the tree line when he emerges. “It’s not her blood, but we need to find her. Now.”
Sasuke keeps any smart comments to himself. Two searching for her are better odds than one. Luckily, whatever they are following has done little to hide its tracks. An easy path right to Sakura. They arrive, just in time to see Sakura grab onto the blade of a large scythe, fresh red blood dripping down. The chidori. Too late for Sauke to help, to control the flow out of her. But his perfect Sakura already knows how to handle his ill-tempered chakra nature. Streaming in straight into her attacker, knocking him back. Sending Sakura to her knees.
“Sasuke.” She whispers as he catches her. She’s covered in blood. Warm and wet and sticky as Sasuke carries her back. Quickly falling into unconsciousness. She sleeps for days as she heals. Mending the damage from holding the chidori and exhausted from the wear and tear of the fight.
Sasuke stays away for the most part. Keeping tabs on her through the genjutsu link. When he does stop by, Shikamaru is either working on the cuffs or annoyingly curled up with Sakura in the bed they share. Sasuke swallows the distaste that leaves in his mouth. Finding himself spending most of his time there scrubbing the bloodstains from the floor and the bedding Shikamaru had flung outside to replace with fresh, clean laundry.
The cuffs are ready, right at the time that Sakura is healed enough of the damage to go back into them. Healthier than she’s been in months. She will have to continue to repair the damage in her mind with them on. Sasuke does not have to hold her down, kicking and screaming—fighting for her freedom. Because Sakura loves Sasuke. She’d do anything for him. Shikamaru sneaks his cuff on when she’s occupied with Sasuke—the lazy bastard.
A mission near the lightning border calls Sasuke away for a few days. Sightings of old-leaf ninjas, rumors of a transport of civilians and much-needed supplies. Sasuke smirks as the group he’s pursuing splits. Two going ahead with one turning back to face him. To fight.
Rock Lee .
Sasuke mentally prepares for the fight. Lee is a strong opponent, but Sasuke’s fueled by vengeance. Punishment delivered for daring to be complicit in Sakura’s mishandling. When they meet, however, Lee does not fight. Falling to his hands and knees instead. Wetness streaming off his face already. Weak.
“Stand and fight.” Sasuke tells him. Lee shakes his head back and forth, fingers digging in the dirt as his body shakes.
“You will not fight?” Sasuke questions, drawing his sword. Lee was never the type to turn down the chance for a fight.
“I do not deserve to live,” Lee says brokenly. “I was chosen, entrusted to protect Sakura, and I have failed her. I am no shinobi, I will accept my death.”
Sasuke moves to stand in front of Lee. At least some of them have realized the cost of their actions, even if Kakashi does not. “How did you fail her?”
“I didn’t stop Naruto when he was telling her what he would do to keep his promise to her, even as she was begging him to break it. I did not protect her from you. I did not understand the lengths she would go to to get there. I didn’t protect her from Kakashi and his cuffs. I thought I was helping to keep her safe.” It comes out broken by sobs, Lee tripping and stumbling over his words.
Sasuke can hardly keep the smirk off his face, keeping his expression as neutral as possible as he squats down. Tilting his head in mock confusion. “Why would Sakura ever need protection from me?”
It’s enough to break Lee’s incessant crying, as he looks up at Sasuke. Snotty and gross. Ew. “W-what?”
Resisting the urge to mock the sad excuse of a man, Sasuke repeats himself.
“I-I, but Kakashi said,” Lee tries to get out. How pathetic.
“That I killed Sakura,” Sasuke fills in for him. Leaning in closer, like he’s sharing a secret. “That’s what he told everyone. Poor little Haruno Sakura slain by the hand of Uchiha Sasuke. And we both know that that’s not the truth now, is it? Because she’s not dead, now is she?”
Lee’s eyes widen as Sasuke’s implication settles over him. “But…you…”
“What reason would I have to harm Sakura, of all people?” Sasuke narrows his eyes. Lee will suit this purpose well. Already having doubts about Kakashi’s sanity over the situation. “But you are a different story entirely. You wish to die? No, you shall live. And you shall suffer for what you’ve done to her.”
Sasuke activates his sharingan, pulling Lee into a genjutsu—not even a strong one, Lee’s mental state needs to be well enough to be believed after all. Now that Sasuke has Sakura, he has the power to shift the trajectory of the war in his favor. To sow the seeds of distrust in Kakashi. He shows Lee an approximation of Sakura’s memory of being held down by those she loves so dearly. Restrained and cuffed. Confused. Betrayed. Heartbroken.
Lee collapses to the ground when he comes out of it, panting hard. Nearly hyperventilating.
“Why has Kakashi gone to such extensive lengths to be sure Sakura is contained? Who benefits the most from faking her death?” Sasuke rises as he speaks, leaving the fallen man to ruminate over his words. Lee’s time will come, Sasuke will not be so lenient with him when they cross again. “Tell Kakashi the clock is ticking. His penance is near.”
Sasuke returns straight to Konoha. To what remains of the boarded-up Uchiha district. Madara resides in the clan head's household—Sasuke’s childhood home. He doesn’t bother knocking, not wanting to wake the ghosts of his past that still reside here. Avoiding eye contact with the bloodstains that remain no matter how many times he scrubbed at them as a child.
He finds Madara on the dock out by the pond. Meditating. Sasuke sits near him at the end of the pier. Losing himself in his thoughts as he gazes over the water. Waves lap at the posts of the structure, fish causing ripples where they break the surface.
“Something on your mind?” Madara asks, tone even and neutral. He always insists that Sasuke can come to him. To intrust the older Uchiha to help with his problems.
“I used to practice my fireball jutsu out here for hours in the evening after the academy. Father would chastise me for not being as skilled as Itachi was at my age. Even if I was well outpacing the other Uchiha children my age. Mother kept burn cream handy in the kitchen to help with the chapped skin. Itachi too busy to train with me when I asked... and then they were just gone, all of them except for me.” Sasuke lets the numbness wash over him. Better than the pain. A night he’s relived countless times. In his memories. In his nightmares. In Itachi’s tsukuyomi.
“My mother kept burn cream in the kitchen also. Ready to slather it on at any given moment, even as we grew into adults.” Madara comments. He rarely speaks of his own family, long dead now. The closest to understanding the pain that becomes overwhelming if Sasuke dwells on it too long.
“There has been a development I have come across.” Sasuke informs the older man as he looks over the calm surface of the water. Madara hums his encouragement to continue. “There is a girl living on the Nara lands. I have been monitoring the situation. I believe she could be useful in the outcome of the war.”
“You delayed telling me,” Madara clarifies.
“My intentions were to ensure the correct course of action. To avoid any unnecessary retaliation against her from her exposure.” Sasuke carefully picks out truths, avoiding directly lying to Madara. “There were some underlying circumstances that needed sorting before things could progress. I believe Shikamaru used the word ‘broken’ to describe her.”
“You knew her.”
Sasuke lets a moment pass. “Yes, I know her. She was in my academy class.”
Madara hums. Sasuke thinks of Shikamaru’s emotional outburst, gauging how much emotion to portray without seeming to be overtly concerned for Sakura. What falls into the realm of an act believable of Sasuke, who kills everyone he finds in the Five Nation’s hideouts, age or ninja affiliation unmattering to him. Working to frame keeping her alive for the good of the war instead of Sasuke’s own drive to keep her his.
“When I was small, I thought the idea of a police force inside Konoha to be almost silly. How could anyone who’s sworn to protect the village turn against another resident? Sheltered from the realities that the world is cruel. That even as small as four or five, there was already a discrepancy in power dynamics. Already a risk for those who were weaker, with less powerful connections.” Sasuke takes a deep breath and adjusts his posture before continuing. “The other children would have never dared to treat me the way they treated her. A handful of us held above the others. Me, the Hyuuga heiress. Ino-Shika-Cho. Clans big and powerful enough for their children to have had private tutorage before the academy, giving their own an edge over the others.”
“Clans often work to put their own in better positions. A show of power.” Madara agrees.
“She did not have those advantages. Civilian parents. Less affluent than even middle-class clan kids. I didn’t even know that it was happening.” Sasuke pauses. “No. I knew they picked on her, just not to its fullest extent. That the other children were the reasons behind all her bruises and cuts and scrapes—not after-school training with a taijutsu master or kunai training with weapons specialists. They would call her awful things they should have been too young to know the meaning of. That the teachers let it slide because she wouldn’t raise a fuss. I thought if the clan kids were truly hurting her, an adult would step in and stop it. A true shinobi wouldn't stand for such a thing.”
“Did they?” It breaks Sasuke out of his rambling. A slight downturn to Madara’s lips when he turns to face him. Sasuke finds himself frowning too, lacing his fingers together. “Did the senseis step in?”
“No. No, they didn’t.” Shaking his head. “Not then. Not when someone decided it would be a good idea to shove her on a genin team with the last Uchiha and the jinchuriki they let run amok unattended in the village. Not when Kakashi locked her up and hid her here in Konoha to go and start a war in the name of a girl who never died.”
“She was your teammate?” sighs Madara.
"She shouldn’t have been. She was never cut out to be a ninja. Too soft to be a shinobi. Certainly ill prepared for the real world. And when I found her, she was just so sick. So broken. I thought, ‘If everyone thinks her dead already, what harm will come from letting her die in comfort instead of in a harsh prison cell?’” Sasuke turns his attention back to the water. A small family of ducks gathered at the far side of the pond.
“Did you ever intervene?” Madara asks quietly. “Or were you complicit in her treatment?”
“By the time I realized the true extent of her issues, my perspective was skewed. What’s a handful of harmful words in comparison to a tsukuyomi? What’s a few bruises to an entire clan slaughtered in the dead of night?” Sasuke shrugs. “I didn’t even see, until much more recently, how easy it would’ve been to do something about it. That by simply supporting her, I could’ve stopped it. That even five-year-old Sasuke, the second son of Fugaku, head of the Uchiha clan, could have told them to stop. And they would have listened to me. Instead, I waited for someone else to do the work for me.”
“On occasion, the best move to make is no move at all. Waiting and watching where your opponent is setting pieces. Observing. Letting plans grow to fruition, until they are ripe to be picked.” Madara says after a moment.
“I believe the jinchuriki is looking for her to confirm she is alive. Kakashi will not come for her so long as the nations continue to believe his lies. He will come when they lose control of the nine-tails. Naruto will take up the search himself, and when he finds her as broken as she is, we will have no need to deal with Kakashi ourselves.” Trying to keep Sakura as passive a piece in Madara’s plan as he can.
“You believe, by keeping her here, to be discovered by the nine-tails, that it will ensure the death of Hatake Kakashi?”
“I believe Kakashi will go to great lengths to keep everyone under the impression that she’s dead. That I killed her.” Sasuke rises with this.
“And the Nara boy?” Madara questions. “Where will his loyalties fall?”
“He will only support what he feels are the best options for her survival. His loyalty is sound and sure, but only to her. Only for her.”
"Remember, Sasuke, even a weak pawn can cross the board and become a mighty queen.” Madara calls out as Sasuke’s walking away. A true sentiment. But Sakura was never merely a pawn in Sasuke’s game. Losing Sakura would be losing the game.
And Sasuke has every intention to win.
#sakura haruno#sasuke uchiha#shikamaru nara#kakashi hatake#dark sasuke#dark shikamaru#sasusaku#sasuke x sakura#shikamaru x sakura#shikasaku#fanfic#naruto fanfiction#let me bleed (you're losing me)
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There's a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow
Chapter 33: Get Me Out, Get Me Out of Here
(Warning, this chapter deals with more dark themes of experimentation, kidnapping, and venom. Take care and read at your own risk)
Lucille froze dead in her tracks at the sight in front of her.
The radio played as a large purple octopus was cleaning the kitchen spotless, happily moving in rhythm of the music as he did so. A dog with glasses merrily munched away at some leftover bacon and eggs, his tail wagging happily.
The coffee mug slipped from Lucille’s hand and shattered on the ground, earning the attention of the other two.
They both froze and looked back at her. The dog’s tail paused, a bit of eggs falling off his muzzle.
Lucille pulled her sleeve back and slowly began to remove the coffee patches. Now that she thinks about it, sleep isn’t such a bad idea…
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Billie’s arms still burned and itched.
Todays ‘experiment’ (medieval torture method if you asked her) involved seeing how her body reacted to different natural venoms. They had done harsh skin prick tests on her arms, testing the reactions to mildly venomous plants. Not enough to cause serious damage, but it certainly didn’t feel good. Tests were much different in her time! For one, they were humane.
They had to bring the tests to a close for the day when Billie wrestled away from the nurses and began to destroy the equipment. She forced herself out the door of the testing unit and actually made it pretty far before she was electrocuted and dragged back to her cell.
If Billie Robinson were to be taken down, she’d go down fighting with everything she had.
That night, Billie stirred awake when the door to the hallway opened up. She quickly let go of Lucille’s hand, not wanting to risk the scientists finding out they knew each other and try to use that against them.
A lean figure was marched in, his head covered by a hood. Billie knew it was to keep him disoriented; for preventing him from memorizing a way out. To keep him, quite literally, in the dark.
Billie squinted to get a better look at him. The room was pretty dark, so he was difficult to identify. He was tall and thin, with a slim but healthy build. Workers in heavy gear accompanied him, guiding him by his shoulders while his arms stayed zip-tied behind his back.
They approached a cell across from Billie’s and stopped. One of the guards scanned a key card and opened up the door, while the other moved to stand behind the figure, holding his arms behind him. The first guard took out a metallic device.
Billie gasped softly when the guard moved to latch it around the man’s ankle. She looked down at the identical one she also wore. She wondered if Lucille had one as well.
The moment it touched him, the prisoner kicked the guard in the head, sending him to the ground. The guard grabbed at his head for a moment while the figure wrestled in the other guard’s grasp. He shook his head to try and get the hood off, but wasn’t quick enough. The first guard lunged forward and latched the device around his ankle, tightening it so that it couldn’t be pulled off. He pulled the hood off the man’s head just in time to deliver a painful blow to the side of his head. The other guard swiftly cut the zip-tie and shoved him in the cell, slamming the door shut behind him.
The guards hurried off as the man jumped back to his feet and slammed himself against the bars of the cell with a furious shout. Billie gasped in shock when she heard his voice and got a look at his face.
“Gaston!”
The stuntman didn’t hear her, instead slamming into the bars again with another shout. He rammed his shoulder into the lock, but it didn’t budge. “Gaston,” she tried again.
Again, her call went unnoticed. He looked completely feral, snarling and yelling as he rammed into the walls of the cell, over and over and over again.
“Gaston!” Billie shouted as he slammed himself into the bars one last time before running out of steam. He held onto the bars and slowly sank to the floor, panting hard. His eyes were shut tight. He spit blood on the concrete floor. Everything ached.
Only this time, his pain didn’t come with the satisfaction of adventure or pulling off an incredible death-defying stunt.
This time, it came with rage, terror, and a feeling of complete helplessness.
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Check out the chapter on my Archive!
#tw experimentation#tw kidnapping#on a lighter note#the name of the chapter came from the song 'Little Girls' from the 2014 Annie#I discovered it this morning and I've been jamming to it all day#LOCKED IN A CAGE WITH ALL THE RATS I'VE SLIPPED THROUGH THE CRACKS AND NOW I'M#STUCK WITH THE SCRAPS AND I CAN'T SEEM TO FIND MY WAY BACK#GET ME OUT GET ME OUT OF HERE#meet the robinsons#mtr#disney#disney fanfiction#fanfiction#meet the robinsons fanfiction#lucille krunklehorn#lefty robinson#buster robinson#grandma lucille#billie robinson#aunt billie#gaston framagucci#uncle gaston#there’s a great big beautiful tomorrow
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It's been a while since I've posted any sort of character analysis, and I'm bored, so... here we are! I was mildly inspired by this post, but I've had the following on my mind especially since this video came up in my YouTube recommendations a while back.
Can we talk about how STUPID the chronal accelerator is? I hope that the Overwatch Declassified book sheds some more light on it, but I don't think the narrative teams across the franchise's lifespan ever really put much thought into it.
In Reflections, Lena wears her chronal accelerator out by zipping all over King's Row.
Notice how there's still a slight blue glow. So, does it have enough power to keep Lena anchored in time but not enough to let her control her "own personal timeline"? I honestly don't mind that as an aspect/caveat to the chronal accelerator. I promise I'll get back to this point.
In Alive, Lena uses her chronal accelerator to recall JUST before the bullet that killed Mondatta hit her.
One could argue that she anticipated Widowmaker's shot and got lucky. Still, this scene is set in slow motion. Is it purely to make it more dramatic, or does Lena perceive everything around her to be slower as she controls her own personal timeline? I think the latter would make her more interesting as a character, because it would mean that she had more than a split second to decide to dodge the bullet, only adding to her survivor's guilt.
Okay, deep breaths. We're treading into what I would argue are the most annoying portrayals of the chronal accelerator.
I'll get the first bit out of the way: London Calling has a lot wrong with it as a story. I've given my complaints on this blog before, but I'll give a recap. No offense to Mariko Tamaki, but her experience of writing for Marvel and DC comics is apparent. They tried to lean into the superhero aspect of "Tracer", and it misconstrues Lena as a character here and there.
As for the chronal accelerator, it starts electrocuting Lena after Widowmaker slams her into a wall at the end of Alive. After Lady's funeral, Lizzy follows Lena home and sees her being electrocuted half-to-death on the sidewalk, and they use parts sent by the one and only S. Paceape to repair it. Lena doesn't hear Winston's warning that the fix is temporary, and she blinks all the way to Iggy with no hiccups. Then, as she snatches Iggy from Kace, she says "Just need the chronal accelerator to hang in there for... got ya!" and it suddenly starts electrocuting her again. Obvious inconsistency there, as Lena shouldn't have known the chronal accelerator was about to electrocute her when it was most convenient for the plot, but why are THESE parts from Winston temporary? She gets them right after Mondatta's assassination, and she doesn't get electrocuted before then. She speaks about Winston as if they're not in regular contact, and Winston simply mails her parts on occasion.
Why did Babs Tarr draw her like this? Why is it that these parts are suddenly temporary? Winston would know that Lena uses her chronal accelerator REGULARLY. She prefers to use it over taking the tube, for example. All of a sudden, his parts can't handle a short walk to the Underworld? The writing did BOTH of them dirty in this comic. I can't lie.
Now, onto the thing that frustrates me the most: the Doomfist Origin Story. Remember my point about it being interesting concept for Lena to be able to slow down her perception of time? I feel like, with this origin story, they focused so much on portraying Akande as the cold and calculated warrior that he is that they made Tracer look ESPECIALLY inept.
It would've made more sense for Akande to study the fighting patterns of Genji. He very clearly dislikes Asa Yamagami in that one OW2 interaction he has with Genji. Surely, a light bulb would've gone off like "Ah, this cybernetic ninja fights quite like a student of Asa Yamagami. I might be able to predict his next move."
Time to bring this essay full circle! Remember my point about Reflections kind of implying an interesting concept of the chronal accelerator having just enough power to keep Lena anchored but not enough for her to control her own timeline?
Rewatch the Doomfist Origin Story. Seriously, look at how much Lena is blinking here. I think it would've been more fitting for Lena's character if her overconfidence led to her burning her chronal accelerator out and leaving her defenseless, frozen like a deer in headlights. It would also fit Akande's character, as he would know that Lena would eventually tire herself out (maybe not to the extent of her life support device giving up on her, but my point stills stands). Akande would still be able to destroy Lena's chronal accelerator, presuming that it would take her out of the fight for good, and the plot would move on the same way.
Now, I don't know how to end this, so I'm just going to say that Lena "Tracer" Oxton is my original character. I'm taking her from Blizzard's grasp. No one understands her like I do. 😔
#overwatch#overwatch 1#tracer#lena oxton#tekhartha mondatta#widowmaker#amélie lacroix#lady#lizzy#winston#iggy#kace#doomfist#akande ogundimu#genji shimada#asa yamagami
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every day i think about milligan standing protectively over nicholas during the attack on the house in s1 so here's a brief snippet for some reason
(ao3.)
Milligan swings around the corner just in time to see the men carrying Mr. Benedict go down--flashlights? Had one of the children--no time.
When they get up, he is ready.
(Nicholas lies motionless on the floor, but he isn't asleep. Milligan has seen him asleep--both as a result of his narcolepsy, and the ordinary way--many, many times, and he can tell the difference.)
He punches the first one before he can use his shock watch.
(Nicholas is breathing, though, he's breathing, and Milligan--can't afford to keep thinking about this. He steps protectively over him, ready to fight back an army if he needs to.)
It feels like it moves in flashes--they attack, and he dodges, swats their blows aside and hits back harder, smashes one against a wall and kicks back and--
(Nicholas twitches a little, clearly in pain, barely managing to stir, and Milligan kicks one of them through several doorways. Away from him, away.)
They stumble back into each other, the one he'd just shoved stumbling to his feet and wiping blood from his lips with an angry glower.
(There's blood on Milligan's knuckles. His heart is pounding. He could fight a lion at this moment; he's practically a lion himself.)
Milligan glares back, protective, fists clenched, hair disheveled, ready to keep fighting. He'll win--no matter how many of them they are, no matter how outmatched he is, he'll win, because he has a reason to.
(Nicholas is lying at his feet, dazed and in pain, the one in immediate danger, but the others are somewhere in the house, and there are children, and this is their home--Milligan will protect them. Milligan will protect them all.)
They retreat, nursing their wounds, and Milligan lets them go. Even if he could pursue them--could do anything about it should he catch them--he has higher priorities right now. Once they're out of sight, he sinks to one knee at Mr. Benedict's side.
"Mr. Benedict?" he says, quiet but urgent. "Mr. Benedict, can you hear me?"
Mr. Benedict let out a quiet whine of pain, clearly involuntary, but he shudders a little and stirs, trying to push himself up. Conscious.
"Mr. Benedict?" he says again.
"Y--yes, yes," Mr. Benedict manages, voice thin, "I--I'm alright, I'm quite alrigh--aaaahh, ahh--I'm, I'm fine."
As he tries to struggle to his feet his voice gets higher, pitchy with his distress. He tries to mask it, hide the tremble, but he isn't doing a great job. His eyes widen as he looks over Milligan's shoulder.
Milligan glances, heart jumping, half expecting men in grey suits, but it's three of the children, looking at them with wide eyes.
The littlest one--the rude one that Nicholas had immediately taken a liking to--is not there. But Kate--the one who had thrown the flashlights, Milligan suspected--is, and she's flanked by the two others.
The boy in green--Reynie--looks mildly horrified.
"Mr. Benedict!" he says, and he sounds so young. "Are you alright?"
Mr. Benedict forces a smile--not entirely insincere, but thinly veiling the pain--and says, "Just--a little sting, Reynie. I'll be right as rain in a moment."
His voice is now remarkably steadier.
"We need to go get Rhonda," he begins, just as Rhonda comes in, also wincing, Number Two fluttering next to her as if ready to catch her if she faints, and looking distinctly irritated in her worry.
"Oh, good," Mr. Benedict says, still half-crumpled on the floor. There's a bruise peeking out from his sleeve, and another by his collar, and Milligan wonders how deep they go.
Mr. Benedict looks like he wants to say something else, but he glances at the kids--still watching with wide eyes--and thinks better of it. For later, then.
"We should--back to the study," he says.
Milligan goes to slip an arm under his and helps him up, and he hisses again--right. He'd been electrocuted there, on his shoulder.
He grimaces and withdraws, and then instead offers his arm. Nicholas smiles at him--weary and small, but a smile nonetheless--and takes it, leaning on Milligan as he pulls himself to his feet.
He's shaking a little, but he looks better (although whether that's because the kids are watching or because the sting is actually fading is. well. Milligan can guess) and he only leans on Milligan for a moment.
(Nicholas is always so trusting. Even blinking blearily up at him--at the man standing above him, fists raised, knuckles bloodied--he's all guileless and trusting, never once afraid of Milligan or his strength. Now he leans into Milligan--still disheveled and bloodied from the fight--and sighs softly, like he's reluctant to pull away.)
Mr. Benedict unsteadily gains his bearings--wobbling a little in the first step before righting himself--then beams at the children, clapping his hands together quietly. "Right!" he says brightly. "To the study. Milligan, dear, would you mind deactivating the security measures and ah, making sure it's all clear?"
Milligan nods--short and solemn--and tries not to linger.
He lets his eyes scan over Mr. Benedict one more time to make sure he's okay--trembling and exhausted but okay--and then glances over the others, to see that they, too, are safe, Rhonda wincing and rubbing her shoulder but alive, all of them alive and accounted for--and then slips around the corner and out of sight.
#milligan wetherall#nicholas benedict#mbs disney#my writing#the mysterious benedict society#mysterious benedict society#mbs#tmbs#nicholas/milligan#mysteriousfisherman#arguably anyway
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Sneak Peek of BTC Chapter 11
Audrey gains so much new knowledge.
(Audrey's point of view)
We're going to teach you how to control your powers.
Audrey blinked, staring at Porter and Bendy, who were standing in front of her, looking determined.
She assumed the silence and lack of people in the safehouse is what prompted this to some extent.
Allison & Tom had left the safehouse earlier that day, and due to heavy convincing and persuading on Allison's part, Henry had joined them.
Sammy and Norman were napping, Sammy holding Norman's head as he slept. It was kind of sweet, actually.
"What brought this on?" She asked.
"Well Bobby, Bendy and I, we were talking, and we realised that you never really received proper training for your abilities, and that's partially my fault, so....." Porter rambled.
We decided to rectify this error and give you proper instruction.
"Well boys, I appreciate the thought, but I already have control over my powers. I know how to use them." Audrey stated.
Bendy gave a mildly disbelieving look, and leaned cartoonishly right into her face.
Are you SURE about that?, He asked.
"What do you mean?" She asked.
You DID electrocute me when we first met.
"I- I told you I was sorry about that!" She said in her defense.
And I see that, but that doesn't change the fact that it happened.
"Plus there's the fact that your symbol is still visible on your hand." Porter pointed out.
"Isn't it supposed to?" She asked.
"No dearie. It's a sign that your power is in a constant state of working, which doesn't just hurt you, it can also hurt the people around you." Porter explained.
"How does it hurt me?"
"Well, when your power's constantly on, it can be draining and make you feel tired. Plus due to the power's constant state of use, it can get weaker and weaker with each use."
Plus PLUS there's the ramifications of the dream you had a few weeks ago.
Well, they did make good points.
And Audrey couldn't deny the fact that it did freak her out now that it hit her how little control she had over herself.
Or that she was just now noticing that over the course of her time within the studio, she did feel periodically drained.
"Alright, train me." She said.
Bendy grinned.
Let's begin
###############################
Thank you to @preciouslittletoonette and @theluckoftheclaws for your lovely comments, thank you to all of my lovely readers, and I'll see you in the next chapter.
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Could you please continue the villain x tired kidnapped civilian snippet? It was really good, I loved their dynamic and want to know what happens next, if you would, please!
Part one here
Part two here
Part three here
The civilian couldn’t drag the hero any further, so she pulled him into a nearby side alley and slumped down against a wall.
He was still breathing, thank goodness, but he hadn’t woken up yet. She couldn’t say she was anxious for him to wake up anyway. Not after what she did.
Why? Why did she do that? She only wanted one thing whenever she got kidnapped and that was for the hero to win and her to go home quickly. But because of her she was stuck dragging the hero’s lifeless body to . . . the hospital? Hero’s secret hideout? She had no idea what the protocol was for a hurt hero.
The villain was a whole other problem to figure out. She felt . . . confusing things when she thought about him. The way he could fluster her so easily and the brightness replacing the cold in his eyes whenever he looked at her. He had stopped fighting the hero to make sure she wasn’t hurt and listened when she told him to stop.
Was it a ruse? A trick to get the hero? She’d had villains try to ‘seduce’ her before, quite laughably and unsuccessfully she would add. But obviously it wasn’t to get the hero, since the villain literally just gave him up, and she didn’t feel like he was trying to trick her. So what was it?
The hero’s eyelids started to flutter. Then they suddenly shot open, eyes wide with panic. He tried to scramble up, but with a groan he slumped back against the alley wall.
His eyes focused on the civilian. “Where are we?”
“An alley, away from the warehouse. You should lay off the donuts, I couldn’t pull you very far.”
Her attempt at levity didn’t seem to work. His brows furrowed. “How did you get us out? I was hurt, I was . . .” Then it came back to him. The look in his eyes made her feel sick. “You warned him.”
The civilian could barely choke out an answer. “Um. . . maybe?”
“Why did you do that?” The hero asked incredulously.
“I-uh . . .”
“Are you working with him?”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you brainwashed?”
“No!”
“That’s what someone who’s brainwashed would say.”
“I’m not brainwashed!”
“Then why did you warn him!” He said. “I would’ve been able to take him down if you didn’t say anything!”
“I don’t know!”
The hero paused. She didn’t like the knowing look he gave her. “Do you love him?”
She stuttered. “Well love is a strong word-”
“Oh my gosh you love him.”
The civilian stood. “Look. I don’t ‘love’ him, alright? I’m interested,” she clarified. “He’s different than any other villain that’s decided to kidnap me, thanks for that by the way. He actually listens to what I say, and he’s mildly good looking.”
The hero raised a brow.
“Alright, very good looking.”
The hero shook his head. “So that’s what was going on earlier.”
“What?” The civilian asked defensively.
“Oh please. The looks, you actually smiled for once: you two were flirting.”
She winced. “You noticed?”
“Was it supposed to be a secret?”
The civilian sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She kinda wished she was the one who got electrocuted, then she’d have an excuse not to have to stumble her way through questions she couldn’t answer.
But his injury didn’t stop him from making his disappointment clear. “Civilian, he’s playing you.”
“I’ve figured out when people are playing me. He isn’t,” the civilian replied. “The only reason you’re still alive is because I stopped him from hurting you. If I doubted him before, I don’t now.”
The civilian was surprised at how confident she was while saying that. She had no idea if the villain was playing her for something bigger, just a hunch. And was he actually interested in her or was it just her imagination? They’d just met, why was she advocating for him so stubbornly?
The hero looked skyward, probably asking, ‘what am I gonna do with her?’ “He’s a criminal you know,” the hero said. “And he electrocuted me.”
“Psh, you’re fine. You’re always fine.”
The hero shook his head. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “I thought I could trust you. You could’ve gotten me killed with that stunt you pulled.”
A white hot bubble of anger started to build in the civilian’s chest. “Are you kidding me? You could’ve gotten killed? Ever since you first rescued me I’ve been afraid for my life! Do you have any idea what it’s like to be completely helpless waiting for someone who may or may not save me?” The civilian asked. “I don’t have any powers! One of these days a villain might just kill me on sight and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it! And what have you done? You’ve played it up to the media and asked me to wait as bait. You don’t even care how I feel!”
The hero went silent.
But the civilian wasn’t done. “And I’m the one that can’t be trusted? You’re the one sneaking behind my back and getting my number without permission!” the civilian said. “And I know. I know I dropped the ball this time. But it’s been too much. So much that the literal villain who kidnapped me let me take a nap before you finally got around to rescuing me!” She realized she was yelling, so she went back down to normal volume. “So yeah, I’m sorry I can’t be the perfect pet all the time.”
The civilian was breathing hard, all spent. She’d had those feelings bottled up for a while, but that sense of responsibility had always held her back. If she was indirectly helping people, who was she to question? But she couldn’t keep it in any longer.
The hero looked a little stunned for a moment. Then he pushed himself up, struggling a little, but he managed. They were eye-to-eye now. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I guess I knew that you didn’t like all this, but I guess I just . . . didn’t take your feelings into consideration when it came to my plans, and I did go behind your back. You’re so composed, I forget that it’s still hard. That’s not an excuse, it’s my fault, all of it." He gave a small smile. "Sleep deprivation included. ”
The civilian sighed. “I’m sorry too, I know you’re just trying to help people, and taking villains down is easier when you have me. It’s just hard sometimes. And I’m sorry I got you hurt. But you can still trust me, alright?”
“I know.”
She wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder. “Guess we should go to the hospital now. And to make it up to you, I’ll be bait for some more missions.”
“You just wanna see him some more, don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
***
The villain watched the civilian drag the hero out. Then, after examining the damage from the fight, he went to the couch and sat with his arms on his legs leaned forward, lost in thought.
He had always prided himself on his ability to solve puzzles. It was a fun challenge figuring out each step. But as much as he thought about the civilian, he couldn’t figure her out.
She clearly wasn’t afraid of him. He respected that. She had a quick wit, enough to rival his. From her little smirks and chides, he could tell she loved a challenge. And once he had gotten past her prickly exterior, her smile was . . . pretty.
Maybe.
Kind of.
He liked saying things that surprised her. And if her charming little blushes were any indication, she was almost… surprised at being surprised. It was understandable considering she had already played this game a million times.
So now she was trying to figure him out too.
The hero, by all accounts, should be dead by now. The villain should’ve killed him. But he couldn’t get the civilian’s face out of his mind. Her look of desperation. It was clear she cared about the hero, even if it wasn’t love like the whole world thought. Notwithstanding, she had warned the villain about the hero’s attack, and she had thrown away her tracking device.
He sighed. This girl is going to be the death of me. He should probably accept the fact that this was one puzzle he wouldn’t be able to solve.
He leaned back and his hand brushed against something rough. He glanced at it. It was a jacket. Not one of his. The civilian must have left it.
He smiled. Guess he was gonna see her a little sooner than he thought.
Part five here
#villain and hero#hero and villain#villain x civilian#civilian x villain#writing snippet#creative writing#not a prompt#short story#part four
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Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Dating is still only about love
Summary: Based on the prompt received in AO3 "Reader is a lot like Bucky. Bucky saves Reader, and recruits him to the Avengers team. Reader and Wanda begin to develop a relationship, but it is shy and awkward because Reader is from 1940." ///////////// Read on AO3 too
Words: 3.914k (one) //
Warnings: 13+ Fluff and a bit of language, mentions of torture.
Notes: I think this turned out to be more about the 1940 reader in love than anything else, but I hope you enjoy it.
Part II (Special Smut request)
////////////
You are dancing to Glenn Miller in a bar in Brooklyn. Your parents would kill you if they saw you now, spinning in the arms of a stranger. But you laugh, and move your body to the music.
And then you see Bucky and Steve, entering the place, and you let go of your partner and run to hug them.
- Hi, boys! - You greet them with a smile that they respond to.
- Someone is cheerful. - Bucky jokes looking at your slightly alcoholic state.
You fake a serious expression.
- Are you implying that your superior is drunk, Sergeant Barnes?
Bucky laughs at your imitation of an authoritative voice, and you turn to Steve, who looks mildly annoyed.
- Hey, Rogers. Why the long face? - you ask, and he shrugs. You can tell by Bucky's expression. He had been rejected from the army again, and you let out a sigh and decide to cheer him up. - Come on, Steve! Let's dance!
You pull him by the hand before he can refuse. And eventually, he laughs. Bucky joins you next, and the three of you spin around the room, your steps out of sync as you laugh.
/-/
You try to move but there is something holding you to the surface where you are lying. And then you try to scream for help, but there is something in your mouth that prevents you from doing so.
You widen your eyes with surprise when a man dressed in white appears in your field of vision, and he fits something cold to your head.
You grumble against the tightness in your mouth, but he just gives you a mocking smile.
- Vital signs? - He speaks in German. You close your eyes tightly when a light goes on in front of you.
- Stable. - Says a second voice in the room that you don't know where it comes from.
- Good. You can apply now.
And then you feel your veins burn, and you scream, but your scream is muffled by the object in your mouth. The pain chokes you until you can't see anything anymore.
/-/
Someone is pulling you. You blink to regain consciousness, but it takes a long time. You are tired, but there is a feeling that is in your body that you don't know.
- Hey, Y/N. - You hear someone calling, and then you take a breath trying to remember. - Can you hear me? Can you walk?
- Bucky... - You grumble and accept the arm he offers you to get up. - Where the...?
- We don't have time, we need to get out of here.
And then you are running out of the compound where you were being held prisoner. Bucky is wearing the same clothes as you. And then you see Steve, but he looks nothing like the Steve you knew. This Steve is tall, and muscular, but still has the same gentle look as your friend. But you don't have time to ask.
-/-/
You haven't rested for a long time. But that's okay, you want to help your country win the war. You want to help Steve, and you believe in him. And so you and Bucky jump on a train for him.
- Watch out! - You warn your friends, and they just shrug as they smile.
And things go well for about five minutes, and then one of the Hydra soldiers has a gun pointed at Bucky, and the next second you are jumping on the man.
When Bucky goes to help you, a second man appears. A grenade explodes ripping out half the compartment and you hear a whistle in your ear. You manage to knock out the man who pinned you down, but then someone kicks you in the back out of the train. You grab the metal bar, and when Bucky is thrown out, you hold him fast.
You see Steve run up to you two, his hand outstretched in the air to reach you. And then the iron breaks and you both fall.
-/-/
You wake up in a jolt, in a cold sweat. And there are chains on your wrists. You let out an angry grunt.
No one tells you who these men who test you are. And every time you scream or try to free yourself, they inject something that makes you lethargic, and vulnerable. And then they electrocute your mind, and you forget any flash of memory that might appear.
As long as you don't remember who you are, you accept every command they give you.
-/-/
You use a pillar of the building next to you to protect yourself from gunfire. You are starting to get annoyed.
Your mission is to eliminate the Winter Soldier, or divergent soldier, as your leader has begun to call him.
But he is being particularly difficult to eliminate, especially since there is a man with a shield and a woman with a machine gun protecting him.
And then you use bombs, and disarm them. The men who came with you keep them busy while you run towards your target, and throw him to the ground with a blow to his ribs.
You arm your knife, but he gets up quickly, fending off every attack as skillfully as you do.
And then he hits you in the face, and your mask falls off. You have a gun pointed at his face next, but the completely shocked look on his face makes you hesitate.
- Y/N?
- I don't... - You find yourself talking, but then there is a second explosion that distracts you, and then the man disarms you.
You strike back, knocking him to the ground. But you run away, and on your way back to the Hydra establishments, you say that you have lost sight of him.
-/-/
You are being punished. Again. You've been failing a lot in your tests, and you've been unstable for weeks. You don't want to obey any of those people, you want to go back to the man on the road who knew you and ask him about your life.
And then there are shocks in your head, but you don't forget. And then they throw you into a cell, saying that the madness from hunger will take away any memory from you.
But then there are loud noises that you think are coming from bombs. And then the man in the road is in front of your cell, and he rips the door off with a metal arm, and reaches out to help you up.
-/-/
It takes time to get your memories back. But it happens. And you cry a lot when you remember everything.
You remember your hometown, your parents, your pet dog. You remember jogging down the street from your house, and playing ball with the kids. You remember punching a boy in the face because he pushed Steve Rogers off a swing. You remember delivering a frog you found on the sidewalk into Bucky Barnes' hand. You remember finding Bucky and Steve kissing in the alley behind your house and remember promising to keep it a secret when they cry.
You remember entering the US Army before Bucky. You remember the training, and the battles, and most of all the war. And then you feel your heart fill with warmth and longing when you remember the dances. So many parties where you went jazz dancing, most of them with Bucky and Steve.
You lose your breath when you remember Hydra. When you remember the experiments, and the murders. But Bucky holds your hand, and assures you that you are the same girl who danced with your two best friends at the prom even when the most handsome young man in high school asked for a dance, and assures you that you are not what Hydra wanted you to become. You repeat the same words to him, and you hold each other for a while.
-/-/
Bucky wants you to join the Avengers. He has been a member for a few months, and then he rescued you, and he doesn't want you to just hang around like him. He wants to help you, and he wants you to have a home.
When you nod in agreement, he hugs you.
-/-/
- Here is your room. - Said Bucky as he led you down a long hallway in the Avengers compound. He held your bag, even though you said there was no need for it.
You entered the space, and you let out an impressed hiss. It was definitely better than the motels and well, any place you had actually been sleeping in all these years.
- When you're ready, come meet the rest of the team. - He said as he left his suitcase on the bed. He flashes you a smile before leaving.
You look around, still impressed. It would be strange to call this place a home, but you were willing to give it a try. Besides this, your best friends were here. There was nothing to be scared of.
-/-/
You were wrong.
Everything was perfectly under control, you smiled and waved politely to all the Avengers, and even laughed at Tony Stark's jokes. And then you met Wanda Maximoff, leaving training and arriving late for your introduction to the team and looking absolutely stunning.
- Hi, sorry I'm late everybody. - She said as she entered the room. And then her gaze fell on you, and she gave an embarrassed smile as she held out her hand. - I'm Wanda, I think we're going to be door-mates.
Unable to form a coherent sentence, you just smiled awkwardly, shaking Wanda's hand, and hoping that she didn't think you were a complete idiot.
And then Bucky and Steve finished introducing you to the team, and everyone went back to their activities.
You let your gaze linger on Wanda, before quickly turning away, blushing. It was amazing how unlucky you were. You had barely arrived, and already you had a crush.
-/-/
Things are going well, you think. You got along with everyone on the team, you did well in practice, and you had a secret crush on Wanda. Maybe the last part wasn't so good, but you are optimistic.
You eventually realized that Wanda was quite anti-social, and didn't talk much with the other team members.
That might have made things difficult, because if she had a close friend, you could ask this friend to speak well of you.
You grumbled to yourself as you cooked your dinner. You were used to preparing your meals, and almost always the other avengers joined you. When the food started to smell, they appeared.
- Great! Y/N food. - Tony said as soon as he entered the room, and you giggled. You were stirring the sauce when Wanda came into the kitchen. She smiled at you as she walked towards you and you tried to hide your nervousness.
- Wow, this looks tasty. - She said, looking at the contents of the pot. You smiled, handing her the spoon in your hand. She then tasted some of the sauce, and let out a satisfied groan. You tried not to stare so hard at her lips. - This is delicious.
You just nodded with flushed cheeks, and Wanda gave you a curious look before turning toward the table.
You decided that you had better do something soon or she would think you were completely crazy.
And then that night, after dinner, you called Bucky up to your room.
- You have to help me with something! - you told him as you walked in. You slumped in your chair, tapping your feet on the floor in nervousness, and he sat down across from you.
- What was it? Did something happen? - he asked worriedly.
- I need to ask a girl out!
You look surprised. And then you laugh.
- I thought it was something bad. - He grumbles, leaning back in his chair.
- It's not bad, it's terrible! - You replied, running your hands through your hair. - I have no idea how to ask a girl out! In fact, I never knew how to ask anyone out. The boys did it in '36s.
Bucky laughs at your desperation, and you bury your face in your hands.
- Hey, calm down. - He says, straightening his posture and looking at you tenderly. - I swear dating is still as hard as it was in the 40s.
- Was that supposed to make me feel better? - You grumble as you take your face out of his hands and look at him. Bucky laughs.
- I was going to say that, regardless of the era, dating is still about liking someone. - He replies. - It's scary, but you can do it. Why don't you try inviting her over as a friend?
You stand thoughtfully for a moment.
- I don't understand. - You say. - How does the date work between friends?
Bucky laughed again.
- It's not a date, Y/N. - he says. - It's just a hangout among friends.
You frown.
- But I like her.
- Wow, you're difficult. - Bucky scoffs lightly. - People in this century go on unromantic walks together all the time.
- That sounds like a lie. - You retort with a smile, Bucky laughs. - And how will she know that I like her?
- You tell her.
You let out a nervous laugh.
- Worst possible idea. - You grumble as you throw your back into your chair. - Besides, I haven't seen you date anyone since '35. I think I'll ask someone else for advice. - You mock lightly, and Bucky rolls his eyes humorously.
- I've been busy. - he says. - By the way, have you ever seen what they call dating apps? It's creepy.
You laugh and nod, and Bucky moves to reach for his cell phone. He spends the rest of the day showing you how dating works in this century, and you laugh a lot.
-/-/
You made too much hot chocolate. Maybe it was on purpose.
What is relevant is that you are walking toward Wanda's room, carrying a mug for her.
Bucky was in the kitchen with you, and when he got some of the drink, he said that the opportunity for you to make conversation with Wanda was right in front of you.
So here you were, trying not to look so anxious as you knocked on the door.
When Wanda opened the door, she was wearing a sweatshirt and looked comfortable and very pretty. You thought you were staring, so you hurried to say:
- H-hi. I brought you some chocolate. - You say and Wanda looks surprised, but smiles.
- That's very sweet, thank you. - She says to you as she accepts the drink. You feel your cheeks heat up as your hands rub together for a brief moment.
And then a noise you knew well can be heard, and you let out a surprised exclamation.
- Wow, you like Sweet American Family? - you asked excitedly when you noticed the old sitcom you used to watch playing on the in-room television.
Wanda raised her eyebrow slightly in surprise, and then gave you space to enter the room, and your body just followed the cue automatically, too excited about the show, without really thinking that you were walking into Wanda's room.
- Do you know it? - She replies with surprise and you laugh as you approach the television.
- Of course I do! - you reply excitedly. - I used to watch it with my parents.
Wanda takes a sip of her drink while you stare at the television.
- Watch it with me, then.
It takes a second for you to register the invitation, and your heart races, but you nod with a smile, and watch Wanda sit on her own bed, and pat the duvet for you to join her. Trying not to look like a complete mess, you follow her.
You watch in silence for a few minutes, and a joke later you are used to Wanda's presence.
- So how accurate is this show? - She asks with a smile, leaving her mug on the small table. You sigh thoughtfully.
- Well, we didn't used to eat in our rooms. - You comment, watching the scene on television, and Wanda nods looking interested. - But they got the bad food right, and the tight clothes and weird social rules.
Wanda giggles and goes back to watching. And then the episode switches to a romantic scene, two teenagers talking at school.
- Wow, that was scary. - You comment watching the boy try to invite the girl for a walk.
Wanda looks at you curiously, wanting to know more. You smile.
- The kids used to wait for us in between classes. - You tell her. - And they were very obvious about it. Usually the whole school knew that you were going on a date with someone.
- Have you been on many dates?
You giggle.
- I didn't like the boys at my high school very much. - You confess. - But I liked to dance. And so they called me to dances, and I said yes. And then I was enlisted, and I started hanging out with the soldiers. It was fun.
- Sounds like great. - She comments with a smile. - In a way, it seems like it was easier.
You let out a surprised exclamation, laughing lightly.
- Wanda, no way! - You respond with humor. - It was horrible! Scary! And all the dates were ultra official, and people expected you to be engaged! Bucky told me that nowadays people go out as friends? That is impressive.
Wanda laughs, and leans on the bed crossing her legs and turning completely toward you.
- But people aren't as romantic as they used to be! - she smiles back. You imitate her position, while you ignore the TV show to talk. - No one seems anxious or shy about going out anymore. There are no flowers, or requests to hold your hand. People just text you to get laid.
You feel your cheeks heat up a little, but laugh at the comment. And then you have an idea.
- I would like to invite you to something. - You say, surprising Wanda suddenly. You swallow your nervousness. - A proper evening out, like the one you saw on TV.
-W-what?
- A date, Wanda. - You clarify with a blush. - But it's okay if you don't want to...
- I do. - She interrupts with a shy smile. - I'd love to go for on a date with you.
You smile, looking away. And the credits music for the episode begins to rise.
- When do you want to go? - you ask her, twiddling your fingers nervously.
- As soon as possible, I'm excited. - She says with a smile, and you let out a giggle. Then you get out of bed.
- Okay, then, Miss Maximoff. - you say with a smile. - I need time to organize this, so I'll pick you up here in your room tomorrow at seven?
- Sounds great. - Wanda agrees with a smile.
You nod slightly before leaving the room. When you are walking down the hallway, you can't stop smiling.
-/-/
Wanda was wearing a simple, blue dress in the same 40s style when you picked her up. You choked in surprise, thinking she looked absolutely stunning. And she blushed and thanked you when you told her so.
Tony lent you one of his classic cars, and you drove to the sounds of old jazz toward the carnival that was set up in town that week. You didn't notice Wanda looking at you as you hummed the song.
The park was very busy, and they had many entertainment options, but you made sure to ask what Wanda wanted to do.
You competed in the bumper cars and laughed every time your cars hit each other. Wanda threw her head back laughing, and everything seemed to go in slow motion with the image.
And then you went on several other attractions, and then she pointed to the Ferris wheel.
You both let out excited sighs as the cabin began to rise.
- Wow, this is amazing! - She commented excitedly, you agreed as you looked down, seeing the ground getting farther and farther away.
- The Ferris wheels were smaller. - You say, and Wanda lets out a giggle.
- Are you going to tell me you are afraid of heights now?
You laugh lightly and look at Wanda.
- If I had, and I had accepted your invitation, would I look braver? - You retort sheepishly. Wanda bites her lip thoughtfully, but still smiles.
- Why does it matter, are you trying to impress me?
You look away in surprise, and feel your cheeks heat up. Well, Bucky had told you to be honest after all.
- Only if it's working. - You retort with a slight insecurity in your voice. Wanda smiles though.
- Oh, believe me. It's working very well. - She answers finally, and then you two are on the top.
You try not to blush so much at Wanda's affirmation, and you bite back the smile on your lips. And then she asks you about the dances of your day, and you almost forget to be nervous.
And then you walked side by side off the Ferris wheel, and you took her to see the shooting games, and when you hit all the targets, she whispered that being a trained sniper should be considered cheating. You won many tickets, and you carried the big teddy bear you won for Wanda.
You take her to eat cotton candy, and you laugh as you share the flavors. And then you think you have seen all the toys and are walking back to the car, smiling.
Wanda keeps the teddy inside the back seat, but doesn't get into the vehicle. From your position, the distant light of the Ferris wheel partially illuminates the parking lot, and Wanda's green orbs catch your eye.
- Did you enjoy the evening, Wanda? - you ask her as you approach. She is leaning on the car door, and smiles at you tenderly.
- I loved it. - She confesses. - I didn't want to leave.
You chuckle shyly, looking down at your shoes.
- We can do it again. - You say. - I could take you dancing.
Wanda lets out an excited exclamation.
- Please, I'd love to. - She says, smiling. You think your heart will explode with happiness.
You are silent for a moment, and then Wanda straightens her posture, slightly shy.
- I think we missed something on our walk.
- What? - You look at her anxiously, but Wanda smiles tenderly.
- You didn't ask to hold my hand.
You let out a shy little laugh, coming closer. You stop a step away from Wanda, and hold out your hands. Wanda smiles, and raises her hands to yours. You let your hands fall together at the front of your bodies, waving them lightly as you kept they together.
- How did these walks used to end? - Wanda asks softly, you think that the closeness is preventing you from thinking correctly.
- I would lead you to your front door. - You say. - And you would decide if I deserve a kiss on the cheek.
Wanda smiles, blushing. She looks away quickly, and sighs lightly. You were going to ask if everything was okay, but her sentence makes your mind shut down.
- I want to kiss you now. - she confesses. And then she brings your faces together until your foreheads rest against each other. - Is that okay?
- Yes.
And then the distance is broken. Wanda kisses you on the mouth gently, and you sigh at the sensation. You think that maybe you shouldn't kiss like that on a first date, but your tongue asks for passage and Wanda accepts. And then you have her pressed against the car.
It feels good, and it makes your heart race, and it's the best you've felt since 1940.
#wanda maximoff#wanda x reader#wanda x you#wanda maximoff x reader#wandaxyou#wandaxreader#marvel imagines#oneshot
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Ello~, if you have the time, Oh Great One. What do the VoltLove think of Willow? I already added info about them. Also the staff if you want
*def not slipping cupcake 🧁 to you Bc I like you* You don’t know me,shh.
SDLKKSD hehe of course! And ty for the cupcake, he's a dunut 🍩
Minami: "There's something shady going. It's the dorm policy to not overstep bounds though. Whatever, it's none of my bussiness as long as it's understood that this is my turf. I'm not above electrocuting anyone who breaks my rules. "
Jojo: "I try to avoid them. They're untrustworthy."
Giselle: "That girl~? She's sooo friendly~ And always offering help~" " ...Ha, the adorable lil ol' me doesn't need something like that, but daddy taught me how to avoid a bad deal. Betcha I could get a hell of a bargain."
Mim: "Isn't it interesting!? I can't wait to see what it does! Buuuut if it gets in the way of my plans I'll have the cut the observation phase short. How dreadful~! How fun~! Because then comes the vivisection part! No one would notice it missing after all~ Will it lead to a new area of magic to master? I hope so ♪"
Grimcrawl: "Another unusual circumstance. I'll allow it for now. If they do threaten the students' safety or the school's dignity I will take care of this matter personally. "
Kujaku: "Oh dear, I can't speak of such matters myself given my less than reputable credentials. A nature shoruded in mystery is beautiful, and destruction is but a fleeting beauty. Although... I would be mildly saddened if something happened to my fledglings, I suppose. Very well, I shall keep a close eye on the play developing before us! As soon as I finish grading this week's assingments."
Odile: "My feathers stand on edge when near them. I prefer if my charge would avoid them and their overly friendly nature."
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Hi, omg I love your stuff. Could I please request a tallest red x human female? I dont really have a specific idea. Just some fluff or headcannons is fine. Thank you so much. ILY😘
Yeah, of course! There’s a lot of dialogue, but I promise there’s fluff in the end!
Everything had been going so well. Until it didn’t.
A quiet moan of pain slipped out of your mouth as you continued to stay curled in fetal position on some hard surface, most likely a floor. Experimentally, you attempted to open your eyes, only to have your vision swamped by flashing saturated colors. You screwed your eyes shut again, drowning in the disorientation. There were probably voices around you, but they reached your ears as incoherent mumblings. Apparently, humans weren’t meant for instant intergalactic teleportation across schmillions of light years.
You were unsure of how long you had been laying wherever you were, nor did you suppose it mattered. Ever since you had been mildly conscious, you had been trying to recall what exactly had happened, without much luck. However, the second you had stopped caring about the preceding events, they all hit you with the force of twenty one bullet trains.
-
"Behold! Doesn't it amaze you?!" A very short alien gestured wildly to a glowing portal, grinning madly as if he couldn't believe his own genius.
"Yes, Zim. It's very nice." Smiling uneasily, you nodded, your palms becoming slick with sweat. Over the years, you had learned to just agree with whatever Zim said, things went over much smoother that way. However, that didn't mean you weren't worried. Whatever Zim created tended to backfire...violently. Or explode. Or not work as intended. Or all of the above.
"Okay? But what does it even do?" The other human in the room spoke, more openly skeptic than you were. Purple light reflected off of his glasses as he shuffled through papers of calculations, which he couldn't read anyway, considering they were written in Irken. "Or, more accurately, what is it supposed to do?"
"You imply that Zim's inventions never work as they should, Dib-stink!" Zim crossed his arms and turned away from Dib, clearly less than pleased with his lack of enthusiasm.
"That's because they don't!"
"Name one time!"
"Shall we take a look in The Cabinet?" The man decked out in black and blue thrusted an arm out towards a cabinet threatening to explode with close to ten years' worth of records of failed plans. Zim growled, lunging at Dib who was bent over in laughter. Before he could get very far, you grabbed the Irken's ankle, yanking him back.
"That's enough, you two. Honestly. Act your age." The two disgruntled men grumbled complaints under their breath, but ceased their childish antics. If you hadn't known them for years, you wouldn't have believed that these two were now adults. "Now, Zim, could you kindly tell us what this thing does?" Your voice was soft and patient, hoping to set him back on track. He tended to become distracted quite often.
"Yes! It's a portal that will allow the instant transportation of anything, the range being the entire universe!" He spread his arms wide, a laugh already bubbling up in his throat. Dib groaned and rolled his eyes.
"I thought you were working on the Irken conversions so I could finish my part on the ship." You couldn't help but crack a smile. Their ship was never going to be finished at this rate.
"Yes, but this is much more important! I have an ingenious plan for it!"
"Enlighten us." Dib spoke flatly, still not convinced.
Zim pulled out a box wrapped up like a gift, complete with a neat little pink bow. "Zim will send this to my Tallest using the portal! Trust me, they'll love what's in here." Light from the portal glinted menacingly off of his teeth. The box made hushed mewling noises and began to ooze green goo.
"Is...is it alive?" Your voice was cautious. You took a step back when the box began to shake in his hands, bumping your back against one of the many machines in his lab.
"Zim, we've talked about this. The Tallest don't care, Irk has abandoned you, let it go. You know as well as I do that your mission isn't real, and that it's over." Dib sighed, not with frustration, more so pity. A few years ago when Zim had finally got it through his thick skull that his mission was a trick, it had devastated him to a point that no one had ever seen. You saw how much he needed a job, and Dib did as well. Dib had an issue with it in the beginning, but you both took him in, using his science skills to aid in Dib's personal projects. The last plan you were aware of was that the two were working on a ship of their own that would let them travel space together, something about Dib getting presentable proof of alien life while at the same time giving Zim a purpose. Zim seemed to have forgotten about Irk. Until now, at least.
"Don't worry about it! It's...a parting gift." The look in Zim's eyes brought you great discomfort. "Only a symbol of the termination of my service to the empire. That is all." His voice was pleasant enough, but you sensed some dark undertones. His fingers danced away on the controls, a dull hum echoing through the base as the portal fired up it's key functions. 'The Massive' and some coordinates became displayed on the screen above the portal, the destination locked in.
"Zim…" Dib took a step forward, as did you. "You've had plenty of bad ideas, but I think this one is going to take the cake. So just shut the thing off." Zim shrugged his concerns off, stepping closer to the portal with the box that was becoming more aggressive the closer it came. Red light emitted from a lens at the top of the portal as it scanned the box in Zim's hand.
"Scan complete. Item composition: deadly. If transported, item will cause half of the universe to implode." The voice of the computer drawled. Your eyes widened as you looked to Zim, who acted as if he didn't hear the warning. More likely, he didn't care. When did he ever? He brought his arm back as he stood in front of the portal, preparing to throw the box.
Although it happened in the course of only a split second, it all was in slow motion for you. Without thinking, you took off, sprinting across the small room and leaping at Zim, harshly shoving him and the box out of the way of the portal. You had managed to prevent the tragedy of space implosion, but unfortunately, your forward motion continued, sending you through the portal. You had heard Dib's scream, but it sounded a million miles away. Your brain couldn't comprehend what had happened during the course of the teleportation, so it put you out of your misery, allowing you to pass out.
-
"Ugh...Zim. Of course." You forced yourself to sit up, rubbing your eyes with closed fists. You were slouched over, and once the static finally cleared from your vision, you blinked several times until your eyes adjusted to the new light. The panicked whispers from before continued, but you could now make out what they were saying.
"Did she say 'Zim'?"
"What creature is it?"
"Is it a weapon?"
Your brain finally jumpstarted, and you whipped your head around, eyes darting from one face to another. Several Irkens surrounded you, to where you couldn't see anything but a sea of green. You scooted backwards to create more room between you and the crowd, bumping into something behind you. You jerked yourself around, facing two of the tallest creatures you had ever seen. Instantly you recognized them as Zim's Almighty Tallest. They were much taller in real life than you imagined them to be. Even as an adult female standing at your full height, you knew they would tower over you. Hell, they would overtake Dib by a landslide, who now stood well over six feet. They bent over you to get a better look. After a second of silent observation, the one in purple straightened up and groaned loudly, throwing his arms in the air.
"Oh god, it's one of those creatures that inhabits Zim's planet!" The purple one resumed wailing madly. The one dressed in red straightened up as well, but said nothing. His red bug eyes rested on you quizzically, intrigued by your mere existence. "You! How did you get here?" The purple one pointed a long and slender finger at you, his face filled with pure terror.
"I went through Zim's portal, it was an accident-" Your voice was panicky. Almost all of the Irkens around you were riddled with anxiety, which you absorbed like a sponge.
"So, Zim sent you!" The purple one just loved to shout, didn't he? You wondered if this was a common trait among Irkens.
"No! It-"
"He sent you for malicious purposes! Like, to, uh...to annoy us into oblivion! Yeah!" So, the purple one was a moron. Good to know. Nevertheless, the crowd of Irkens began mumbling, as if you were trapped in a high energy court room.
"This is all a big misunderstanding, now maybe you could just...drop me off at home, or maybe send me with an escape pod or something-"
"To the dungeons with her!" The purple one screeched, yet again pointing a finger at you.
"Yes, My Tallest!" Two guards came up to you with taser spears, and you concluded it would be best not to fight. You had been electrocuted with high voltage electricity in Zim's lab once on accident, and it did not feel pleasant. A sigh fell from your lips as each guard took an arm, dragging you to the dungeons of The Massive while cheers rose from the Irken crowd.
-
"I swear, I will kill Zim when I get my hands on him." You muttered, tossing a coin you had in your pocket against the wall for the four thousandth time. You sat on the floor of your cell, the cold concrete making you shiver. The wall that pressed against your back was the same. There wasn't even a cot in there. Iron bars with buzzing electricity fields between them blocked your exit.
"That's not the first time I've heard that in here." A voice floated toward your ears, however it was muffled by the surrounding concrete.
"Who are you?" You had assumed you were alone in there. After all, how often could you possibly use a dungeon on an armada flagship?
"I'm Deek. I think. Honestly, I've been here so long I can't even remember." The voice, which sounded male, giggled. "Anyway, what are you in here for?"
"Not sure. Trespassing, maybe? The more accurate term would be a kneejerk reaction. What about you?"
"Being annoying. I guess."
"Shit, really? I'm sorry."
"Nah, it's better than being tossed out the airlock." You ceased throwing the coin. Decidedly, Irken society seemed to be hell in space. "In fact, they just threw Jix out last week. Poor gal." Deek's voice held a tinge of sadness. Images flashed through your mind of your body being launched into space. That wasn't how you had envisioned dying. You shuddered.
The sound of a door opening and steps approaching your cell caused every muscle in your body to tense. You vaguely wondered if it was your turn for death by airlock. You squeezed your eyes shut, curling yourself into a ball with your face between your knees, not wanting to see who had stopped in front of your cell.
"So..." The voice was level and calm, a stark contrast to the chaos of before. Cautiously, you lifted your head, opening your eyes. At your level, you could only see a long crimson skirt. Pushing yourself up to a standing position, you still had to crane your neck to see his face. The red Tallest stood before you, a bored expression plastered on his face.
"Are you here to kill me?"
"Uh..." He almost seemed surprised that you had asked that. Even still, you wouldn't take any chances.
"You shouldn't kill me! Just, you know, reverse engineer the phenomena or something and teleport me back! Or even send me in an escape pod! Humans, uhm, we cause massive explosions when killed! Yeah! So you'd destroy yourself in the process." If he had sensed you were lying, he didn't care. However, he did look puzzled by your desperate reaction.
"What? No, I'm not here to kill you." He let out a massive sigh, bending over to look you in the eye. "I'm just bored. There's only so much of Purple's antics I can take at a time." Your shoulders relaxed in immediate relief.
"Wait, his name is Purple? Let me guess, your name is Red?" That was such a strange notion to you. Every other Irken you had heard of all had such bizarre names, and apparently these two just went by Red and Purple.
"Yeah? So? Also, it's Tallest to you." The threatening tone inserted into his words was half-hearted at best.
"Can't I call you Red? I'm not Irken."
"I don't think so, short-thing."
"Why not? And I'm not short! You're just tall. Plus, my name is Y/n. Not short-thing." You huffed, unconsciously shifting to stand on your toes, increasing your height by maybe an inch at the most. He seemed to appreciate his height being acknowledged, so he relented.
"Fine, do what you want." Red continued to stare at you, almost as if he couldn't quite understand what you were. You didn't blame him, the circumstance had been kind of sudden. Plus, he hadn't heard from Zim in years. Most likely, everyone had assumed him to be dead.
"You said you were bored? I'll have you know, I can be quite entertaining! So maybe you could, I dunno, get me out of here?" Your lips lifted in a sweet smile, hoping Irkens could be swayed by charm. There was a second of silence as he mulled the idea over. On one hand, it would give him something to do besides eat and blow things up. On the other, if anyone saw, many questions would arise. Despite his concerns, curiosity won out. With his two thin fingers, he tapped a code into a keypad on the wall. There was a dying buzz as the electricity stopped flowing and the iron bars were lifted. There was a part of you that was amazed that he actually let you out. You stepped out, watching his face to make sure he wasn't bluffing about sparing your life. Not a muscle in his body so much as twitched, hell, you weren't even sure if he was breathing. You didn't know how he could with a waist like that. "So, what now?"
"I thought you said you were the master of fun?"
"I said I was entertaining, not the master of fun. But, I dunno, we could start by getting out of here. Space prison kind of kills the vibe."
"Fine." Red began walking, well, hovering down the hall. He did not look back to see if you were following, and you had to jog to catch up. "Oh, and this isn't space prison, that's Moo-Ping 10. This is more like space holding."
"There's a difference?"
"Oh yeah." You were sure you were both still in the belly of the ship, considering you never once went up a flight of stairs. However, you had exited the dungeon area, and emerged into a more open room. There were some tables and chairs, and the room was lit by white florescent lights. Everything else within the room was some shade of pink. Occasionally, he would take a quick glance around, as if to make sure no one was watching. Was he supposed to be down here? If he was a supreme leader of society, you weren't sure why it mattered where he was or who he was with.
"What is this place?" You finally asked as he took a seat in a chair, chin resting in his hand. His glances in your direction were fleeting and infrequient, almost as if he were embarrassed to be intrigued by something so short.
"Not sure. An unused dining hall maybe?" Satisfied with his answer, you took a seat next to him. Taking the opportunity to look him up and down, youwere confused by his anatomy. He was built differently than every Irken you had ever seen. You pointed to his impossibly skinny waist.
"How?" You opted for that phrasing, as you were unsure if 'is that natural?' would have been rude.
"Hm? Oh. Corset." His answers to everything were quick and simple. Even still, you couldn't help but stare in wonder.
"Doesn't it hurt?" You assumed having a corset tightened to such an extreme would be incredibly painful, but he only shrugged without a care.
"You get used to it. It's all part of being Tallest, just as is losing your thumbs." A smirk etched its way onto his face at your horrfied expression as his wiggled his two fingers through the gauntlet on his arm. Subconsciously you rubbed your thumbs, lips pursed in a tight line. "You're a curious little thing."
"You act like I'm a child! I'm a grown woman, thank you very much." You may still have been young by human standards, but you had still made it over the age of 18, so technically, you were an adult. Red chuckled at your pouting, as you had just proven his point unintentionally. A ghost of a smile was present on his face. Was he actually enjoying himself? You decided to switch gears. "The whole dynamic of Irk is strange."
"Oh yeah? How so?"
"It's like one big military." Red snickered, unable to stop the chuckle that rose from his chest.
"Of course it is. That's kind of our whole thing." He lifted a hand, trying to gesture to the armada as a whole.
"Oh, yeah. Right." Another silence fell between you two. It was rather difficult for you as a human to comprehend Irken society. It all just seemed so...foreign. So static and stiff.
Red was the first to speak again. "Tell me then. What's Earth like?" Excitedly, you sat up in your chair, eyes shining.
"Well, people still respect each other, sometimes anyway, but everyone is less stiff with each other. There's more kindness. Now, don't get me wrong, there are many who are full of hate and lots of people fight all the time, but it's still less so than Irk. Plus, height isn't such a huge deal. And there's relationships." Your words came out quickly, hands moving to accentuate your thoughts.
"Relationships?" If Red had eyebrows, they would be raised in questioning. His voice was laced with suspicion, as if he didn't trust the concept.
"Yeah! All different kinds. Familial, platonic, romantic, etc. You know, parents, siblings, friends, that kind of thing...usually, they're all based on love. And, no offense, but there seems to be an absence of that here." You had heard it from Zim many times before. Irkens can't feel love, they trust no one and all that. On some level, you doubted that to be true, rather it was more of a choice, that maybe they were told that love is a sign of weakness so they chose not to feel anything at all.
"Love...?" Red spit out the word as if it burned his tongue. Clearly, love was not a well thought of concept in Irken culture. After a moment, he appeared to recall something. "I think I remember something that happened years ago...Zim called about some romantic experiment he was running on some girl. Said it was very pain-based. This is something humans find...pleasant?" Waving your hands you shook your head in a clear 'no'. No wonder Red was concerned by the idea of love.
"No! Not unless you're a masochist anyway. I don't know what the hell he was doing, but that's not what love is."
His tone showed that he was still mildly disgusted with the topic, but nevertheless, he proceeded to ask for further clarification. "Then what is it?" Red was never very interested when Zim had been reporting ten-ish years ago, but now that he had a subject sitting right in front of him, the idea became somewhat exciting.
"Like, romantic love?" You asked, a small part of you hoping he was asking about platonic love instead. You weren't entirely sure how to explain romance to a species who understood nothing but pain and hierarchy. Red nodded, asking you to go on. You breathed out a relenting sigh, struggling for the right words to explain it. "Romance is...uhm…it's when..." Red peered at you expectantly, crimson eyes wide and inquisitive. Finally, you came up with something. "It's when you like someone very much, and you would do almost anything for them." He nodded slowly, looking as if he was beginning to grasp it.
"Like pledging your loyalty?" Loyalty was a thing Irkens could understand thoroughly.
"Yeah, like that! And you want to do lots of stuff together! Spend time together and all that. There's also physical affection." His head cocked to the side, similar to a puppy.
"Physical affection?"
"Ye...Yeah...!" Your feet shifted on the floor as you clutched the hem of your shirt between your fingers. You couldn't help but feel nervous under his gaze. Your face flushed as he stared out at you through half-lidded eyes, overly fixated on the topic of physical affection.
"What's that?" Once again, his voice was as even as could be. The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a grin, enjoying the way you were acting. It was quite amusing to him. You suddenly regretted bringing up the subject of romance.
"Like, examples?" Swallowing hard, your fingers began to drum on the table. How were you possibly supposed to describe it to him? He certainly wouldn't know what a hug or a kiss was. "I don't think I can exactly describe it to you..." You hoped he would leave it at that and move on.
Of course that wasn't the case. That was the problem with Irkens. Once they found a way to make you squirm, they would push until it was no longer fun. "Then show it to me." His response was quick, zero hesitation. He looked completely satisfied, for once not feeling that familiar dull, almost constant ache of boredom. You weren't sure about it at first, but the longer he looked at you with that smug expression, the more determined you became to wipe that smirk off his face.
"Fine." Irkens are touch-starved creatures. It wouldn't take anything too extreme to accomplish what you wanted. You stood up, moving over to plant yourself right in his lap. Taking his hand, you intertwined your fingers with his two, pressing your face into his chest. "Humans do things like cuddle and hold hands." His heartbeat was similar to a human's, the rhythym just slightly different. This close, you could hear the soft hum of his PAK. With your free hand, you traced indescribable shapes into his chest. If you were to look up, you would have seen his antennae twitching. Already, you had accomplished what you had set out to. He was no longer teasing or overconfident. Although he would never admit it, he was content with the attention. As you continued to draw random nothingness, Red let out what sounded like a low purr, the sound sending a pleasant rumble through his chest and against your skin. A series of quiet chirps followed, and you had to assume he was satisfied. You couldn't help but giggle, and at the time, the uncertainty of how you would get home was the furthest thing from your mind.
"Do humans do anything else?" Red attempted to suppress the spark in his voice, but was wildly unsuccessful. His tone was the farthest thing from passive. You let go of his hand, sitting up to face him.
"Of course we do." You experimentally raised a hand to his face, seeing if he would shy away. That was not the case, rather the opposite. He seemed to almost lean into your touch. You weren't sure why he was so okay with this; you supposed that each Irken had different policies and tolerances when it came to physical contact. Red seemed to be anxiously awaiting whatever was coming next, his expression eager. "Sometimes we give each other kisses." You didn't bother fighting the smile that played at your lips as you peppered several kisses all over his face. There was barely an inch of his cheeks and forehead that went untouched. Red's face felt hot beneath your lips, and if Irkens could blush, you were sure he would be completely flushed. His fingers had drifted to your sides, lightly resting there.
Hmm...Irkens are quite interesting... You thought as you held eye contact with Red. He was clearly embarrassed to be engaging in this, but more so at the fact that he was enjoying it. And yet, he held your gaze, unwilling to back down. You wondered what would happen if someone found him like this. What would even happen?
"The rest of human physical affection is rather intimate, so the lesson will have to end here." Before he could protest, you leaned in one last time, pressing your lips to where his should be. His fingers dug into your sides, antennae shooting straight up in the air. You had never dreamed that you would be kissing an alien leader on a warship in space, but you wouldn't say you were disappointed. Pulling away, Red's grip on you loosened, and something bright caught your eye. Small sparks were being thrown from his PAK, which concerned you slightly. "Uh, Red...?" Pointing a finger to his PAK, he shook his head wildly, and after a moment, everything seemed to be alright again.
"It's fine!" He spoke abruptly, voice loud and awkward. His voice drew in some company, as Purple stuck his head in the room.
"There you are! Zim keeps sending transmissions through and he's going crazy-" Red yelped, practically throwing you off of him and into the nearest chair he could find.
"So, do I go home now?" You asked, and for the first time, Purple seemed to notice you.
"Ack! How did you get out of the dungeons?!" Purple jumped back, despite already being across the room from you.
"I have super powers." You snickered at his frightened appearance. Red rolled his eyes, waving his counterpart off.
"Just go, I'll deal with Zim." Purple nodded, zipping out of the room. You weren't sure if your senses were playing tricks on you, or if Red really was disappointed to see you leave. "C'mon, Y/n. Let's go figure out how to reverse engineer a transport portal."
#invader zim#tallest red#invader zim fanfiction#invader zim x reader#invader zim fic#invader zim one shot#invader zim oneshot#fanfiction#fanfic#oneshot#one shot#request
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A/N: This idea was originally suggested by @mashmaiden and is the next in a series about Deeks at FLETC, but deviates from canon. I put took me a very long time to figure out and I’m still not sure if I am fully happy with it.
In a previous fic, an instructor had asked Deeks to speak on his experience when he was tortured by Sidorov. Since this deals with some events from Descent/Ascension, there is mention of violence, trauma, and PTSD symptoms.
***
A Matter of Experience
Deeks let out a very long breath as he waited for other students to arrive. After a lot of consideration, he had decided to grant Flores’ “offer”. He still absolutely hated the idea, but he knew he was technically doing Flores a favor. Plus, Flores wasn’t wrong. Most of the current candidates had never experienced anything as traumatic as he had.
He hoped they never would.
The night before he’d spent a couple hours going over a rough draft of his presentation. Deeks had also covered some ground rules with Flores. Although he had no control over what questions his classmates would ask, he reserved the right to refuse to answer.
Pulling in another long breath, he closed his eye and rolled his neck a couple of times.
“You ok, Deeks?” Flores asked, actually looking concerned. He had an odd mixture of ruthlessness and deep understanding which didn’t necessarily work well together.
“Yeah, fine. I’m good.” He felt vaguely queasy and restless, but he wasn’t about to tell Flores that. “We never discussed what I should do if no one has questions,” he added. “Do you have a back up lecture?”
“Oh believe me, there’s always questions with this case. We’ll be lucky if we get out on time.” He seemed to realize that he sounded a little insensitive. “Based on what I’ve heard about you, you can handle this Deeks. But if you changed your mind, I won’t judge you.”
That strange feeling of embarrassment returned, but he didn’t have time to evaluate it or respond to Flores as other students started trickling in.
Deeks had purposely chosen a chair to the side and a few rows in where he wouldn’t be too obvious, but could get up without too much trouble. Flores gave them a couple minutes to settle and then walked to the front of the room.
“Good Morning, everyone. I hope you’re all managing your classes alright,” he said. “For today’s class we will be focusing on case study 9.”
He paused as the majority of the class flipped to the appropriate page. Deeks’ pulse pounded faintly in his ears and he swallowed twice, closing his eyes briefly. Even if the details weren’t burned into his memory, he’d reviewed the case, just to be sure he wasn’t caught off guard.
It was surprisingly straightforward, not overly gratuitous and Flores reviewed the details with surprising speed. There was no getting past the pictures though. They were graphic, nauseating. He knew the exact moment everyone saw them and heard someone behind him whisper his name.
When Flores ended the lecture, which was over much faster than Deeks would have liked, he nodded to Deeks and added,
“Now some of you may know that one of your colleagues was involved in this case and he was kind enough to agree to share his experiences with us.” Deeks stood up, joining Flores at the front of the room. “Please welcome Marty Deeks, former LAPD Detective.” Flores gave him what he guessed was supposed to be a supportive pat on the arm and then sat down a few feet away.
It was clear that many of the candidates hadn’t made the connection between him and the battered guy in their text book, but as he glanced around, realized that maybe half the class were watching him with the same strange reverence Omar, Jake, and Charlie had when they first met.
Clearing his throat, he pulled in yet another shallow breath and glanced down at the small stack of notecards in his hand, then stuffed them in his pocket.
“As, uh, Instructor Flores said, I’m Marty Deeks,” he started, pausing to clear his throat again. “But most people just call me Deeks. If any of you have spent more than a few minutes around me, you’ve probably figured out that I have a terrible habit of talking too much.”
A couple people chuckled, but most stayed silent, some looking curious, others intrigued, and a few, mainly Alan, outright suspicious. He’d expected some skepticism since, as usual, he didn’t fit into the mold they expected.
“Like it says in that case study, Agent Hanna and I were captured and held by a Russian arms dealer. They took turns torturing us-“ He swallowed harshly, holding back the shiver that crept up his spine and continued. “to gain information about a colleague who was undercover.
“They had us in separate rooms, but I could still see what they were doing to Agent Hanna. I couldn’t do anything though because I was bound to a chair. I could only watch as they electrocuted him and wait to see what else they had planned for me.”
Before he could continued, Alan raised his hand, his gaze almost defiant and angry as he waited for him to respond.
“Did you have a question?” Deeks asked mildly.
“What was it like?” he said, watching Deeks eagerly, and maybe with a touch of disbelief in his voice as he eyed him. “The case study mentioned that you experienced dental trauma, but it didn’t really go into detail.”
Flores started to intercede from behind him, but Deeks held up a hand, holding him back. If Alan wanted details, he could give him details. He’d avoided the guy as much as possible and put his arrogance and aggressiveness down to immaturity, but now Deeks was truly annoyed.
“No it’s ok.” He smiled tightly at Alan. “One guy shoved this metal device in my mouth so I couldn’t close it. Then Sidorov got out a drill and demanded to know the truth. The whole time I was lying my ass off, trying to keep it together even though I knew he was going to stick that thing in my mouth.”
His breath hitched a little as he felt the phantom pain of the drill bit obliterating his teeth. Someone swore under their breath and Deeks felt perverse satisfaction when Alan squirmed uncomfortably.
Forcing the memories back, he took a couple of slow breaths and then added,
“I ended up with multiple broken teeth, damage to my mandible, and shredded gums-so yeah, dental trauma as they so nicely put it.” Maybe that was going a step too far, but it seemed pointless and Flores had wanted them to know what it was really like. “It took years for me to stop flinching when I heard a drill or to make it through getting my teeth cleaned without almost knocking the hygienist’s lights out. To this day, it’s probably the single most horrific thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Everyone’s eyes were on him, the anticipation and tension almost tangible. A woman-he thought her name was possibly Maria-raised her hand and Deeks nodded for her to speak. Unlike some of her peers, she wasn’t staring at him like he was a particularly interesting soap opera.
“You said it took you years to get over the trauma,” she started a little hesitantly. “Exactly how long did it take?”
“I wish I could tell you that there’s a point when it no longer affects you, but it never really happens,” Deeks said with a gentle smile, sorry he couldn’t give her the answer she so clearly wanted. He saw her face fall and he realized just how young she was and probably pretty horrified at this point. “The memories and dreams and all the other symptoms can lessen over time. They never go away though. That trauma, those scars, they are with you forever.”
“So you’re saying there’s nothing we can do about it?” Another student asked, sounding annoyed and maybe a little scared. “If something like this happens to us, we just live with the trauma for the rest of our lives.”
Deeks shook his head.
“No, there’s a lot you can do. Go to therapy, let the people you love help you, and whatever you do, don’t isolate yourself.” A memory of eating bad takeout with Kensi when he was at his lowest point and added, “Whatever you do, don’t try to face if alone. Believe me, your friends and family will be everything.”
The questions continued for the remainder of the class and as Flores predicted, they went over by 15 minutes. Deeks was completely exhausted and a little shaky, but overall not as much as he had expected. He would probably pay the price for being so explicit about his injuries with a resurgence of nightmares.
“Nice work,” Instructor Flores complimented him as he was packing up his notes and untouched book. “I didn’t expect you to be that...open.”
Deeks grimaced, realizing that he’d basically taken over the class and gone completely off script from what they discussed.
“Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away.”
“No, you got the point across. And that’s what they needed.” Flores patted his arm and nodded his appreciation. “Thank you.”
Deeks left the room, intending to skip lunch and go straight to bed until his next class. Maybe he’d get in a quick call to Kensi. The sound of her voice sounded very appealing and comforting right now. He was about halfway down the hall when someone called out,
“Deeks!” He groaned, recognizing Alan’s distinctive voice and turned as he approached, not up for dealing with him at the moment. He stopped a couple feet from Deeks, eyeing him warily.
“Was Everything you said in there true?” he asked and Deeks rolled his eyes, huffing out an exasperated sigh.
“No, Alan. I just made it up so I could get free implants,” Deeks answered derisively. “Now are you done trying to intimidate me? Talking about the guys who drilled holes in my mouth is a little bit exhausted.”
Alan flinched, but didn’t back down.
“I wasn’t trying to insult you.” He glared at Deeks as though he’d done something wrong.
“So implying that I embellished a case to make myself sound better isn’t an insult?” Alan muttered a fairly creative curse under his breath and then said,
“I’m sorry for what I said the first time we met. I was wrong about you, ok?” He shook his head, jaw clenched like the words were almost painful for him to say. Looking at the ground, he admitted, “Look, I’m struggling with a lot of the courses.”
“And you’re telling this to the guy you hate because...?” Deeks asked, not overly surprised to hear that Alan wasn’t doing well. He’d heard quite a few stories about him clashing with instructors among other things.
“Because I need help and you seem to actually know what you’re doing,” Alan said bluntly, apparently past his embarrassment. “So what do I need to do?”
Deeks blinked at him for a second, resisting the urge to laugh. Even in a moment of crisis, the guy was still making demands.
“Well one thing that I always have to remind myself about is to not let yourself get cocky.“
Alan gave him an incredulous look and shook his head.
“What? That’s your expert advice? Don’t be cocky.”
“A piece of it. It’s easy to get full of yourself. I do it all the time, but there’s always room to grow. New things to learn,” Deeks told him with a shrug.
“What could you possibly have to learn?” Alan asked acerbically. “I’ve seen you in most of these classes and you don’t even break a sweat. It’s freaking annoying.”
Deeks actually did laugh then and nodded.
“I do have a lot of experience. Like you pointed out, I’m the old guy.” Alan didn’t look amused so he sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Look, if you want you can join the study sessions I have with some of other guys. But if you do, you need to lose the attitude because there’s not time for that.”
Alan clenched his jaw, but nodded in apparent agreement.
“I’ll think about it.” With that he turned abruptly, adding a terse, “Thanks.” As he walked away.
Deeks just watched him go, shaking his head, and glanced down at his watch. If he hurried he could maybe just squeeze in a half hour nap and the call to Kensi.
***
A/N: I know this one ends a little abruptly, but I figure I’ll be writing more in this series.
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Underground Hero: The Beginning
Summary: Foxfire and Silas meet for the first time uwu
WC: 2327
Content Warning: Electrocution, torture, pain, near death, heart failure
......................
“Welcome to being a hero, Silas.”
Silas looked down at his new papers and smiled. He was a hero now. He could really officially help people the way he wanted to now. Not to mention that he'd get paid for it, but that hardly mattered. Pay really just meant money for supplies to help him become a better hero. And he would. He wouldn’t be number one, heavens no. The number one spot was way too much attention. Number one spot can get someone killed. No. Silas was happy to work quietly, doing the background jobs that no one ever found out about because it’s just not that glamorous. But he would do good.
“Thank you, Sam,” Silas said with a nod to the vice president as he stood in the man’s office. Sam’s walls were covered in pictures of heroes and newspaper clippings. As the vice president, Sam was the unofficial head of the superhero licencing committee. His term would go until he retired or until he was deemed unfit for the job in any way, shape, or form. The president was voted in separately from the Vice president.
Sam smiled. “I’m glad to have you. You surprised us all, though, I have to admit. It’s been awhile since someone in their late thirties decided to be a hero. After all, heroing is more of a kids game.”
“Then what are you doing here, old man,” Silas teased.
Sam laughed, rubbing his hand through grey speckled hair. “You got me there.”
The memory shattered there.
Silas bolted awake as electricity skittered through his spine and wrists, throughout his whole body. This one went a lot longer than the others. When it finally let go, it was all Silas could do to remember how to breathe.
Three weeks. It had been three weeks since he had been captured. Three weeks since he was taken and strapped to this forsaken chair with prods digging into his back and wrists, activated so randomly it had to be controlled by a computer. He was so exhausted he spent much of his time in a half daze, unable to sleep comfortably knowing he would only be waking up to another bolt down his back. Sometimes, the zaps went for much longer, other times they were itty bitty jolts to scare him. Silas hated it. He was tired. He had given up the thought of rescue. He didn’t have a team and the group who had captured him were very, very good at making people disappear. Still, he had thought Sam would have sent someone to look for him. They were friends after all and Sam knew a lot of people.
Silas hung his head and lamented his pitiful state. He had not been up from the chair since he got to this too bright room. He was filthy, to put it mildly. He ached in so many places, his muscles were atrophied, he was constantly hungry and thirsty, though he wasn’t actively being starved. And a pain had started up in his chest a few days ago. If Silas were to have a guess at that one, he would say that his heart was finally giving in to the strain. Silas probably wouldn’t live to see the next week. He had accepted that.
“...hero, amirite?” a voice said, passing the door. “Absolutely pathetic. What good are his powers now?”
The voice faded and Silas gritted his teeth. Ahhh, his powers. They weren’t much at all. He fought more with his brains and brawn than with his power. He had abilities with bio electrical pulses. He could change a person’s mood or knock them out with a touch occasionally. He could sense where electrical bugs were in a room or what was wrong in a system flowing with electricity, but he couldn’t really manipulate it outside of living beings. Only mess with it slightly. Which was probably why his captors thought it would be really funny to slowly electrocute him to death.
Silas straightened and stretched as much as he could against the straps at his wrists, ankles, and the one across his bare chest to make sure he back stayed connected to the prongs. He relaxed as much as he could. The pain in his chest was getting worse. Maybe he should be planning to greet death a bit soon-
Silas screamed as another shock rocked through his body. It stretched on and on and on. When it stopped, the machine made a high pitch whine to match Silas’s own groan. His muscles were spasming badly. His chest pain was increasing. He came back to himself very slowly, like his soul was reluctant to still be in the vessel of pain. Silas could smell something.... Cooked? This was no longer burned skin and fat. The prongs were probably now in contact with his back muscles, having burned everything else away. It hurt. It hurt so badly. Silas wished he didn’t have to breathe. It stretched at the skin on his back and sent agony deep into his chest with every inhale.
There were tears on his face. He didn’t want to die. He had accepted that he probably would, but he really didn’t want to. He wasn’t scared of death. He was scared of dying like this.
Silas fell back into unconsciousness at some point and was awoken not by yells of drunken henchmen or the electricity spiking in his body. Something had dimmed the lights for the first time in three weeks. He opened his eyes and stared at his lap. Then, he lifted his head. For a moment he thought he was seeing things, or maybe that this was the form that death decided to use when it came for him, but neither of those felt right.
A slightly glowing blue globule squeezed under the doorway and came out from under it with the smallest of sucking sounds and then a strange pop. It rolled across the ground, wobbling back and forth a little bit, spreading and stretching weirdly. The blob became more of a globe shape when it stopped in front of him. Silas stared at it. He felt something rise up in his body. Maybe,... hope?
The globe pushed forward, climbing up his leg and then his chest and neck and nuzzled the side of Silas’s face, pushing his hair back and snuggling in. Silas curled his head towards his shoulder to cradle it there. It-no...she was a perfectly normal texture. She had the feeling of soft, warm hands cradling his face. If Silas hadn’t been so tired, he would have started sobbing. She was warm and he could feel her humming.
Silas felt her slide across his face and out of his hair behind him. He bit his lip to keep from crying out to beg her to stay. He turned his head to see her zip around the machinery and then disappear inside. She vanished just in time for Silas to hear the quick warm up sounds of the machine. He winced and felt the hair on the back of his neck rise, but there was no pain. Not even a spark came through. Silas listened to the absolute silence after the machine made it’s winding down whine. Then came the stomping footsteps.
Two henchmen came running in. One was taller and thinner, and the other was short. The tall one looked Silas over and then turned to the machine, coming to the correct conclusion that Silas had nothing to do with the failure. Not in his state. The shorter one probably knew that as well, but Silas could easily tell he just wanted an excuse to fight.
“What did you do?!” Short yelled, stalking forward as Thin came around the machine to inspect it and see if it was fixable.
Silas flinched away from the man and said nothing. Short growled and got directly in his face. Silas didn’t even try to look at Short’s face. The man snarled and Silas almost didn’t feel the first hit to his stomach. Then he couldn’t breathe. Blows were rained down on his face, his sides, his stomach, his shins, everywhere the horrible man could reach. Ever punch to Silas’s chest sent him back into the prongs just a little more, awakening the burns and aching flesh. The pain built up in his chest, tightening everything there so he couldn’t breathe. He could feel his body start to spasm under the blows as it tried desperately to right whatever was wrong. It took a full minute for either of them to notice this.
“Stop!” Thin exclaimed as Silas choked and his arms spasmed as he began to feel black encircle him.
Silas barely noticed the two leave the cell at a run. All he could focus on was the feeling of tight bands constricting on his chest. He was sweating and the urge to throw up grew in the back of his throat. Darkness started to take his vision when he could suddenly think again. He had thrown his head back against the chair. He lifted it with a grown and looked down to the round blob that had rested on his chest. She pulsed gently to a heartbeat. No, he could feel his heartbeat. She was telling his heart when to pump.
‘I broke the machine,’ a soft voice said in his mind. It felt like a small girl’s voice. ‘I couldn’t let them hurt you more.’
Something clicked in Silas’s mind and he could feel her there. She was communicating in his head. And he could feel her worry, childish love, and desire to help. He also felt her loneliness. He knew in that hazy, delirious moment that he would protect this girl from anything that dared threaten her.
“Who.. are you?” Silas asked, voice cracking.
‘I’m Foxfire,’ she projected into his mind. ‘That’s the name I chose. I’m here to save you, Silas. I need help, Silas.’
Silas had so many questions, but none of them seemed to matter now that the pain and tightness in his chest had lessened slightly.
‘I can open your cuffs and unlock the door,’ she projected seriously, gathering what remained of his concentration. ‘But I’m tired. I’ll be able to tell you how to get out, but I’m going to be useless besides that.’
“Why are you tired?” Silas got out as she enveloped his hands and undid the straps.
‘I wasn’t ready to come save you.’
“Why’d you come if you’re tired,” Silas asked, doing his best to keep a slur out of his voice.
The blob, Foxfire, stopped. She moved in a way that reminded Silas of a small girl looking up innocently at him. ‘They were going to kill you. I couldn’t let that happen.’
Silas nearly fell forward as she zipped across his chest and undid the strap there. The weight of his body pulled him off the prongs, and Silas refused to think about the sounds or the pain that had caused.
‘You have to stand up,’ Foxfire projected, concern layering the command as she rolled over to unlock the door. She came back a lot slower as Silas struggled out of his chair, trying to ignore the aches that made themselves known all over his body. He could barely straighten his legs. Foxfire glued herself to his chest and pulsed gently. He put his arms across his chest under, cradling her tired form a little as he stumbled forward. By the grace of whatever powers were out there, Silas tripped only when he was at the door so he could lean against it and gasp for a moment.
‘Do you need a break?’ Foxfire, asked.
“No,” Silas breathed, grabbing the door handle. “No. I can go.”
Silas opened the door and stumbled into the corridor. He leaned against the wall across from the door as Foxfire murmured, ‘Go left.’
With one hand cradling the only beacon of hope Silas had left and the other on the wall, Silas started what felt like the longest journey of his life. He could feel how tired Foxfire was, and didn’t blame her for just giving directions, but it was nothing compared to how Silas felt. His legs complained with each step his heart pounded, his head throbbed, his new bruises stabbed with pain with almost every movement. And on top of it all, he was just tired. Tired all the way down to his bones.
Foxfire finally told him to turn right and then open the door. They would be outside the base. ‘We’re in the city,’ Foxfire said, sounding very much like a child on the verge of sleep. ‘So just find someone to help.’
Silas nodded barely. He had no more energy to even think anymore. He was able to gain some control over his powers so he could sense the guards in the dark and avoid them easily enough for someone who was about to keel over and pass out. He slipped through the fence, ignoring the cuts he got on his arms and legs from the barbed wire. He stumbled down several alley ways. He must have looked to be in absolutely horrid condition. He saw several of the back alley way druggies giving him pitying looks that easily said, ‘At least I’m not doing as bad as he is.’
Silas stumbled out on a street and kept walking. He was numb all over now. The pain was gone due to adrenaline and built up shock. He only stopped when a man asked him if he was okay. He paused to see who it was, but without his forward momentum he started to fall. The civilian managed to catch him and pulled out a phone to call 911. Silas closed his eyes, ignoring the words over him and focusing only on the sleepy globe on his chest. He fell into a deeper sleep than he had experienced in three weeks.
Underground Hero Taglist: @doubi-ixi @my-dump-of-whump @thethistlegirl
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In the Eye of the Hurricane
October 29, 2021
Prompt - Stormy Days
Characters - Royce, Bentley, Butchy, Miles, and Mick
Notes - So, this one is a bit more personal for me because Royce's problems in this are things I still sort of deal with and, while that made it so much easier to write, it also feels very revealing, in a way, which is weird haha. Also, poor Royce, I keep putting this kid through the wringer, don’t I?
“Today, our focus is on Hurricane Fiona as-” The TV buzzed with static as the channel was switched. “Hurricane Fiona’s path is leading directly for Florida’s Gulf Coast and-” Another buzz. “Fiona has been updated to a category-”
“Ugh!” Royce huffed, clicking off the TV. That’s all the news had been as of late. Hurricane Fiona this, Hurricane Fiona that. Fiona had started as just a tropical storm and her path was supposed to be heading toward the Texas side of the Gulf of Mexico. Now, she was a hurricane heading straight for their home. They’d been getting strong winds, pouring rain, and thunderstorms off and on for almost a week now and Royce was sick of it.
Bentley took a look at Royce, watching his older brother sink into the couch with a frustrated noise as a bolt of lightning briefly shot across the sky outside. Shaking his head, Bentley went back to drawing in the art book Mick and Butchy had bought for him. “I don’t think anything will happen,” he said reassuringly.
Royce sighed, “It’s a category three hurricane now, Benny, that could kill a lot more people than a tropical storm.”
Bentley looked up, forcing a small smile onto his face as Royce peered skeptically at him. “Yeah, but I have a feeling that there’s nothing to worry about. Maybe it’ll all go away before it hits us.”
Royce hummed in acknowledgment, dropping his head onto the back of the couch. He stayed like that for a minute, staring up at the ceiling as the rain pounded on the roof. A rumbling, cracking boom sounded outside and Royce closed his eyes tightly. He waited for a bit before standing from the couch and turning to Bentley. “I bet you’re right, Bent. I’m going to go read a book.”
“Okay,” Bentley said with a smile, picking up a colored pencil and continuing his drawing. “I’ll be right here.”
Royce made his way into his and Bentley’s bedroom, waiting until the door swung closed before laying down on his bed with a sigh. The wind and rain pounded against the picture window on the wall between his bed and Bentley’s. Gosh, he was starting to hate that damn window. He had tried reading to distract himself, he tried watching TV, heck, he’d even tried listening to some of the records Miles had lying around, but none of it worked; the rain was too heavy and the wind was too harsh.
He had never been a fan of storms. He liked rain when it pattered on the roof of a car or house, but that was as far as he was ever willing to venture. Lightning was mildly worrying as he knew there was a slim chance of electrocution, and heavy wind could be very dangerous as it could tear roofing off of houses and uproot trees that had been there for hundreds of years, but - in Royce’s book, at least - thunder was the worst by far.
Something about it had always unnerved Royce to no end and he was forever frustrated about it. Their father had used it against him many times, occasionally banging on walls or thumping on the floor during heavy storms, just to get a reaction from him. After a while, he’d learned to hide his fear of thunder well enough that their father would stop harassing him, but he’d let his guard down a lot since arriving at Miles’ house. It didn’t really matter anyway, Miles was too good at reading people and Royce had a sneaking suspicion that Miles knew something was bothering him the last few days.
Speaking of Miles, he and Mick had been out for the last two hours, getting some shopping done before the storm could get any worse than it already was, Butchy was at work for the majority of the day, and Lela was at a friend’s house for the weekend. Most of the group had been talking about using the machine to get everybody to the modern world for a few days so the storm had time to blow over, but the risk of being stuck in another world permanently if the plan failed was the only thing holding them back from following through.
Royce had been placed in charge of Bentley, Miles told him to keep the door locked and the windows shut and that they would call if anything kept them out longer than three hours. Bentley had been drawing for most of the time they’d been alone, while Royce just couldn’t sit still. He had started out fine, reading the book Mick had given him for the third time. Then, the storm had started. It was rain at first, just barely enough to wet the ground. After almost twenty minutes of light rain, a flash of lightning beamed across the sky and a growl of thunder followed, sending a downpour of rain with it.
Royce flinched at the noise, sat up and headed to his bookshelf, pulling out Miles’ copy of Gone With the Wind and sitting on the floor at the end of his bed. He had gotten pretty far in the book, having only taken an interest in it because of Mick insisting he read The Outsiders. Gone With the Wind had been mentioned throughout the book as Ponyboy Curtis, the book’s main protagonist, and narrator, related many things to the storyline of the other book. Royce had taken a fondness to both books and, while the plotlines differed in many ways, he enjoyed taking the time to read them whenever he could.
Just as he’d gotten to the thirtieth chapter, Royce jumped as something banged against the door to his room and a soft call of his name came from the other room. With a sigh, Royce tucked his bookmark back into the book and took it with him as he headed back into the main room of the house. He had barely crossed into the living room when he was pulled to the floor by his shirt, tucked behind the couch with Bentley by his side.
“Benny, what’s-”
“Shh!” Bentley whisper-yelled, throwing a hand over Royce’s mouth. Bentley waited until Royce nodded before moving his hand away. “There’s someone outside.”
“It’s probably just Miles and Mickie, baby,” Royce whispered to his little brother.
Bentley shook his head adamantly. “They have a key and they always use the garage during rainy days. Besides, it’s too tall,” he insisted quietly, “Mickie is only a little taller than you and Miles is just a few inches taller than her. The person outside is huge!”
Royce slowly moved, placing his book on the floor and turning so he could see around the couch, to the door. There was a shadow on the other side, standing just to the right of the door. Bentley was right, the person was definitely taller than Miles and Mick. The shadow from flashing lightning didn’t help in the slightest. They had to be around six-foot-three, maybe even taller. Royce pulled back so he was hidden by the couch again.
“See!” Bentley whispered, pushing himself closer to Royce. “Who do you think it is?”
Royce shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe dad sent the cops after us to take us back,” Bentley mumbled. “Maybe he-”
Three loud thumps on the door interrupted them. Royce let out a soft, involuntary squeak as they both jumped. Bentley tucked himself close to Royce, peering up at him with wide blue eyes. Royce raised a finger to his lips, silently shushing his baby brother. Royce peered around the couch and quickly scanned the room, searching for anything he could use in case the person came in.
Another three thumps pounded on the door as a bolt of lightning flashed outside, making Royce flinch back against the couch. Bentley tugged at his arm, whispering to him, “Are you okay?”
Royce nodded slowly, his heart pounding in his chest as he pressed a hand to it. “It just scared me, that’s all.”
A loud clap of thunder sounded, growling loudly in the sky before dying down. Royce took a deep breath, steadying his breathing before turning back around so he could see the door again. The person moved outside the door once more, knocking on the door with their fist. Royce motioned to Bentley, telling him to stay put while he stood from behind the couch and made his way to the door.
The person outside the door knocked once more, this time calling out, “Royce, Bentley, are you home?”
Royce let out a long, huffed breath, feeling his shoulders relax significantly; he knew that voice. Taking a deep breath, he flipped the locks and pulled open the door, revealing a soaking wet Butchy. “Hey,” Royce breathed, allowing Butchy to step into the house before returning to where Bentley was and offering him a hand.
“Where you been, kiddo?” Butchy asked as he unzipped and peeled off his leather jacket. “I’ve been knocking for a few minutes now.”
“You scared us,” Bentley said quietly as Royce helped him get up from the floor, “so we were hiding.”
Butchy rubbed at his arms to warm them as he locked the door once more. “Scared you? Didn’t Mickie tell you I was coming over after work?”
Royce shook his head, grabbing a towel from the linen closet. “I was talking to her about Gone With the Wind and-”
“Say no more,” Butchy chuckled as Royce handed him the towel to dry off with. “The two of you get talking about books and she forgets just about anything else.”
Royce and Bentley flopped down on the couch, leaving a cushion between them for Butchy as they always did that for Miles. The tall man dried off his hair a bit before sitting down between the two boys. “I smell like a wet dog,” he chuckled.
Bentley let out a small laugh, relaxing against Butchy’s side. “You look like a wet dog.”
Butchy reached over Bentley’s shoulders, tickling the fourteen-year-old’s side as he wiggled and squealed. Bentley let out a loud screech as Butchy found a particularly sensitive spot. As Butchy continued, Bentley rolled over, resulting in him falling on the floor. Royce smiled before standing and retrieving his book from where he’d abandoned it.
“I think I’m going to go read,” he said to Butchy while the older man helped Bentley get back to his feet.
Butchy nodded, sending a smile to the sixteen-year-old. “I’ll check on you in a bit if they aren’t back soon, okay? I’ll make dinner.”
Royce nodded, silently going back to his bedroom and closing the door. Butchy’s eyes followed the teenager curiously before turning back around as Bentley turned on the TV. Royce hardly ever turned down spending time with Butchy. “Do you think Royce is okay, little man?”
Bentley shrugged a little, leaning his back against Butchy’s side and looking up at him. “I don’t know. He does this a lot when there are storms. He used to be terrified of thunder. Dad bullied him a lot about it and, one time, when Miles was at work one morning, he made the two of us walk to the store in a storm.”
Butchy took a deep breath, hoping his frustration with the man didn’t show. “What happened?”
“Royce kept jumping every time the thunder came.” Bentley appeared thoughtful as he continued, “We had to stop on a bus stop bench for a few minutes because he was crying and couldn’t see where we were going.”
The complete and utter rage that washed over Butchy was unbearable, but after squeezing Bentley, he tried to cover it up. “How old were you?”
Bentley hummed as he thought, “I think Miles was fifteen when he started working, so Royce was probably almost eleven and I was maybe nine.”
“That’s no way to treat anybody, let alone kids,” Butchy said softly.
“Yeah,” Bentley agreed quietly. “On the way home from the store, Royce made me pinkie swear not to tell Miles or Dad. Miles would’ve picked a fight with Dad and Dad would’ve teased Royce more or maybe he would’ve smacked him around and called him a baby for being scared.” Bentley took a deep breath and nestled his head on Butchy’s chest as he turned to watch the TV. “Our dad wasn’t the best person. I think Miles was more like our dad than our actual dad was.”
Butchy stayed there on the couch with Bentley until the young teenager fell asleep. Once he was sure that the boy was in a deep enough sleep, Butchy lifted him just enough that he could move from underneath the boy before laying him back down on the couch. With that done, Butchy made his way to the bedroom where Royce had been for the last hour or so. He knocked lightly on the door, waiting for Royce’s small, “Come in,” before entering.
Royce was propped up in bed, his pillows pressed against his headboard as a backrest, his blankets wrapped around him at the waist, and his novel still open on his lap. “Hey, Butchy. Is it time for dinner?”
“Not yet, little buddy,” Butchy said, perching himself next to Royce. “I wanted to check in on you.”
Royce nodded slowly, meeting Butchy’s greenish-brown eyes with his caramel-colored ones. “I’m okay. I just got to the last page of chapter thirty-two.”
“Your brother read that to me when I was in the hospital a while back,” Butchy stated with a smile.
Royce was instantly intrigued. “How far did he get?”
“I think we finished the whole book in about a week or so, but I remember some bits and pieces better than others.”
Royce smiled, glancing fondly at the book in his hands. Butchy watched Royce as he replaced the bookmark. The pair looked out the window as the rain battered against it. After a moment of silence, a crack of lightning flashed across the sky, followed shortly by a crash of thunder, making both of them jump.
Royce glanced curiously at Butchy through the corner of his eyes, wondering why the older man had been startled by the storm. “Are you okay?”
Butchy nodded with a short shrug. “Ever since the accident, I get jumpy with loud noises. When I hit my head, it did something to my hearing and now I’m sensitive to anything loud, even my bike sometimes. Thunder is the hardest for me because I never know when it’ll come. It makes me nervous most of the time.”
“You’re scared of thunder?”
“Yeah, kiddo, I guess I am,” Butchy confirmed with a heavy sigh. “I miss not having to worry about it so much.”
“I wish I knew how that felt,” Royce claimed under his breath. “I’ve always been scared by thunder.”
“Really?” Butchy asked, deciding to allow Royce to tell him whatever he felt comfortable with. “You don’t seem it.”
“Good,” Royce said, meeting Butchy’s eyes once again. “I don’t like to let a lot of people know. Even Miles doesn’t know I’m still scared of it, he thinks I outgrew it already.”
“Maybe you should tell him,” Butchy suggested. “He’s a good listener.”
Royce shrugged, rubbing his arms lightly. “I don’t want him to think I’m acting like a two-year-old.”
Butchy shook his head, wrapping an arm around Royce’s shoulders and pulling him close. “If anything, I think he’d be proud of you for telling him. He had the hardest time telling me much of anything for a little while after he started living with me and Lela. I bet he’d be happy that you feel comfortable going to him when you’re scared.”
“Do you think so?” Royce asked softly, glancing up at Butchy owlishly.
“I know so,” Butchy replied with a smile. “Now, come on, I left Benny asleep on the couch.”
The pair returned to the living room, relaxing on the floor in front of the couch as Bentley had sprawled out over the other cushions and left them no room. Butchy read from Gone With the Wind, allowing Royce to relax against him and silently read along. It wasn’t long before they heard the door leading in from the garage open, allowing Mick and Miles to enter with their arms full of shopping bags. Royce quickly got to his feet to help out as Butchy bookmarked the page they were on. Butchy headed to the kitchen with Mick after sorting through what bags went where. That left Miles and Royce to put away things in the bathroom and the bedrooms while Bentley slept on.
“Could you put this on Ben’s bed, buddy?” Miles asked, handing Royce a pack of colored pencils as the younger boy followed him into his bedroom. “He asked for them before we left.”
Royce nodded meekly and turned to leave for his and Bentley’s room before pausing and turning back toward his older brother. “Miles?”
“Yeah, buddy?” Miles asked as he put a couple of things away in his dresser.
“Can we talk?” Royce questioned quietly, watching Miles turn toward him. “Privately, I mean?”
“Of course,” Miles replied, his voice taking on a more curious, yet serious tone. He crossed the room to the door and closed it, making sure it clicked into place before moving back toward Royce. He took his little brother by the shoulder and led him over to his bed where they both sat down. “What’s wrong?”
Royce turned, sitting so he was facing his older brother. “Do you remember when we were younger and you used to have to stay with me because of storms and stuff?”
“I didn’t ‘have to’, bud, I wanted to,” Miles gently corrected with a grin. “I’ll always be there for you. You know that, right?”
Royce nodded, picking at a small rip on the knee of his jeans. “Yeah, I know.”
Miles could almost feel the nervousness rolling off of his brother in waves. After allowing Royce to think for a moment, he reached over and took one of his brother’s hands in his own. “Royce, you can tell me anything, but if you don’t think you can handle it right now, that’s perfectly fine.”
Royce lightly squeezed Miles’ hand, finally looking up to meet Miles’ eyes. “I-I want to tell you.”
“Do it at your own pace, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”
Royce took a breath, looking anywhere, but his brother’s eyes. He didn’t know how to say it. How hard would it be to just blurt out that he was still scared of thunder? Quick, painless, just rip off the bandage, right? He contemplated the thought but quickly turned down the idea. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it that way.
Royce was about to speak up, deciding he’d try it another time and that he didn’t want to stress out his older brother any more than he probably already was. As he began to speak, a flash of lightning bolted across the sky outside, illuminating the bedroom briefly before fading away. Not more than a few seconds later, a loud crack followed by a rumbling growl sounded from above them.
Miles glanced up toward the ceiling as though it would stop the storm if he glared hard enough, but turned back toward Royce as he saw his brother flinch out of his peripheral. “You okay, bud?”
Royce shook his head, simply moving closer to Miles and wrapping his arms around his brother. Miles held Royce close, feeling the boy shuddering in his hold. Miles watched another flash of lightning light up the room before a crack of thunder boomed, echoing in the room. Royce let out a sob before his voice cut out and Miles felt the front of his shirt begin to cling to his skin. Royce was crying.
Miles squeezed Royce tighter, running a hand into the sixteen-year-old’s hair. “Oh, buddy,” Miles whispered into Royce’s hair. “Are the storms bothering you again?”
Royce nodded slowly and clung to Miles, grabbing fistfuls of the back of his older brother’s t-shirt as though it would block out the noises of the storm. Miles shifted on the bed, moving so he wouldn’t have Royce’s knee pressed into his thigh and so Royce could be at least a little bit more comfortable. The younger brother sank into his brother’s grasp as a small rumble sounded from outside. “I-I can’t, I can’t pretend I’m okay anymore,” Royce mumbled, hiccuping into Miles’ shoulder as he tried forcing himself to calm down.
Miles felt like someone punched him in the chest. How long had his baby brother been feeling like this without saying anything? How long had he been suffering through these storms without saying a word to anyone? “You never have to pretend anymore - not with me, not with Benny, not with Butchy or Lela or Mickie, not with anybody,” Miles assured him. “We’re here for you and we love you for who you are; fears and all. Nobody will judge you for this.”
“But I’m too old-”
“Royce James, don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Miles interrupted. “You’ve had to grow up faster than anybody else your age, and I’m so sorry for putting you through that, believe me, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be childish here and there. Heck, look at me! I still order off the kid’s menu down at Big Momma’s sometimes.” Royce let out a wet laugh, forcing himself to pull back and wipe his face with the sleeves of his shirt as he nodded to Miles. “You are still a kid, RJ. You always will be to me. Besides, everyone has their fears, not just kids.”
“You aren’t-”
Miles laughed, cutting off his younger brother as he placed a hand on Royce’s. “Baby, I could list a billion things I’m scared of.”
Royce peered up at him skeptically, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”
Miles sighed, counting on his fingers as he listed off some, “Spiders, heights, small places, needles, the librarian at our elementary school that always smelled like pineapples-”
“Okay, okay, I get it!” Royce interrupted with a half-choked laugh, brushing away some stray tears. “Wait, you were afraid of Mrs. Bennett?”
Miles nodded with a chuckle, “She terrified me as a kid. She’s the reason I still refuse to eat pineapple.”
The brothers shared a laugh, smiling at each other until another flash of lightning lit up the room from the storm outside. Miles pulled Royce to his chest in a light hug, speaking softly to him, “You want to know what my worst fear is?” He waited for a nod from Royce before continuing, “Losing you and Bentley. You two are my entire world and I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to the two of you.”
“Really?” Royce asked softly, not expecting that kind of answer. He knew Miles loved them, but hadn’t taken in just how deeply their brother cared.
Miles hummed, hoping talking would distract his brother as he heard thunder begin to roll. “Oh, absolutely. You have no idea how much I worried about you both after I left. If I could go back to that day, I would’ve taken you both with me somehow. It tortured me to know that I had left you with him.”
“It sucked,” Royce mumbled as he backed out of his brother’s hug. “He tried to get me or Benny to steal whiskey from the store, and sometimes he made me go out during storms, and-”
“He what?!” Miles exclaimed, a surge of anger boiling inside of him. He took a deep breath after seeing Royce flinch back from him, calming himself before speaking again. “He knew how much you hate storms. When was this?”
Royce shrugged, avoiding looking at Miles as his older brother’s gaze was still laced with fury at their father’s behavior. “Off and on, but it started maybe five years ago.”
“Five years ago?” Miles echoed softly. Royce nodded to him. “But… But I was there five years ago. I could’ve stopped him. I could’ve helped you, buddy. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Royce shook his head. “You would’ve fought him-”
“It would’ve been justifiable-”
“-and I didn’t want you to get killed,” Royce finished softly as he began picking at his fingernails, a bad habit he’d picked up from Miles. “You’d get beat up by him all the time without a reason, but if you started the fight and he thought he had a reason…”
“You thought he would’ve killed me,” Miles finished. It made sense, in a way. Especially coming from the mind of an - at the time - eleven-year-old. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I wanted you to feel like you could come to me without being scared of him finding out. I guess I didn’t do a very good job, did I?”
“Well,” Royce spoke with a grin as he squeezed Miles’ hand, “that was the only thing I’ve never told you so I think you did a good job.”
Miles smiled back at his brother, but internalized the feeling of dread at not having protected his brothers better while he’d had the opportunity to. Miles made a promise to himself, then and there, that it wouldn’t be that way ever again. “Thank you.”
Royce hummed and the two sat in silence until a resounding rumble of thunder clashed outside, making Royce wince. Miles took in a deep breath and pulled Royce to him again, this time guiding his brother to his feet and bringing him into the living room. Bentley was sitting with his head against Butchy’s chest and a plate of chicken nuggets and french fries in his lap. The youngest Murphy brother had barely touched his dinner which was highly unlike him. When he saw Miles and Royce, Bentley perked up, setting his plate of food on the coffee table and making his way to his brothers.
“What’s wrong?” Bentley asked softly as he took in Royce’s reddened eyes.
Butchy stood as Mick came in from the kitchen with two plates of food - presumably for herself and Butchy. She set the plates on the coffee table and joined the group. Butchy looked between the older two Murphy boys before speaking, “We heard Miles yell. Is everything okay?”
Miles looked to Royce, feeling the teenager release his grip on Miles’ shirt as he spoke up. Royce met Butchy’s gaze and nodded to him slightly. “I told him.”
Butchy nodded in understanding, giving Royce an encouraging smile. Miles looked between Royce and Butchy before speaking, “Wait, Butch, you knew?”
“I found out not long before you got home,” Butchy spoke calmly to Miles. “I told him you’d understand and that you’d help him in any way you could.”
“I’m lost,” Mick stated quickly as she looked around at the boys. “What, exactly, are we talking about?”
Royce cleared his throat a bit as he felt a headache begin to form. “I’m scared of thunder and Butchy told me I should talk to Miles, so I did.”
“You’re scared of thunder?” Mick asked. “Honey, if I had known that, I would’ve let you use my headphones to listen to music. They cancel out noise so you wouldn’t hear a thing.”
Royce swallowed, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. “I didn’t tell anyone. Miles thought I outgrew it since I hid it so well and Benny only knew it still bothered me a bit. I didn’t want to act like a baby.”
“Fear isn’t limited to babies,” Mick said with a smile, pulling him into a hug before holding him at arm’s length again. “You know something I’m scared of? Seagulls. Where do I live? By the freaking ocean! You know how messed up that is?”
“Really?” Bentley asked, “Seagulls?”
“Yeah,” Mick sighed irritatedly, brushing a strand of hair from her face as she took a step back. “Dive-bombing demon birds, that’s what those things are.”
Royce and Bentley shared a laugh with Mick before Bentley spoke up, “I’m scared being alone. And bees! I hate bees.”
"I knew about those," Royce claimed, taking Bentley’s hand in his as he realized something. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone in the living room earlier.”
“It’s alright,” Bentley dismissed with a shrug. “I put the TV on and I knew you were still home if I needed you so it didn’t bother me as much.”
Butchy decided to add his fears to the mix, “I don’t really like lighthouses, loud noises, or clowns.”
“Clowns?” Mick restated. “But what about that time we went to the circus with my parents?”
“Why do you think I was holding your hand so tightly the whole day?” Butchy asked with an embarrassed grin as he sat on the end of the sectional.
Mick huffed sharply, flopping dramatically onto the couch next to him before giving him an exasperated look. “I thought you were trying to keep me from running off or into anything! You know how easily distracted I get.”
“Oh, believe me,” Miles began teasingly as he, Royce, and Bentley sat on the couch, “we all know that.”
A couple of hours and two trays of chicken nuggets later, everyone was ready to hit the sack. Butchy stayed up until Miles and the boys went to bed even though Mick has long since retired to the guest room, making sure to lock everything up when they retired to their rooms. Deciding to check the news before bed, Butchy switched channels and waited for the TV to change before turning up the volume just enough to hear.
“Thank you, Barbara,” the weatherman started. “Yes, it does look like the Tampa area is safe from the storm so far. Earlier, we predicted an evacuation advisory would be in order soon for Pinellas, Manatee, Hillsborough, and Pasco counties, but Hurricane Fiona has since changed course, heading more for the panhandle.”
That was all Butchy needed to hear. He flicked the TV back off and headed for Royce and Bentley’s room, knocking on the door and opening it to find the room vacant. With a slightly confused look, Butchy closed the door and turned to Miles’ room, once again knocking and opening the door, finding all three brothers sitting on the bed, chatting away.
“Hey, guys,” he called softly. Once he’d gained their attention, Butchy smiled and spoke again, “I just wanted to let you know that the storm isn’t coming toward us anymore. They just said it’s going to hit the panhandle instead.”
“Really?” Royce asked hopefully.
Butchy smiled at the hopeful glint in the sixteen-year-old’s eyes, sending him a confirming nod. “Yeah, I just checked the news and wanted to let you know.”
“See,” Bentley said around a yawn. “I told you I didn’t think it would hit us.”
“Thank you, Butchy,” Royce said appreciatively, ignoring Bentley’s gentle teasing as he stood from the bed and crossed the room to give the older man a hug.
Butchy wound his arms around the kid, giving him a squeeze as Bentley came to join them. Butchy glanced over at Miles who simply smiled and mouthed a “Thank you,” as Butchy released the boys. “Alright,” Butchy said softly, “to bed with you both.” Sending a look in Miles’ direction, Butchy quickly added, “And you too.” Miles raised his hands in defense as Butchy exited the room, holding the door open still. “Good night.”
“Good night,” the trio replied as Butchy slid the door shut.
Royce and Bentley made their way back to Miles’ bed and sat down on either side of him as they usually did. “Now what?” Bentley asked softly, playing with the sleeve of his pajama shirt.
“Well,” Miles sighed, “you have two options. One, you can go back to your room and sleep there, or two, you can stay here and we can stay together the way we used to during storms.”
Feeling as though that last part was added for his sake, Royce sighed, but relented, “I think I’ll stay here. My nerves are shot.”
“Alright,” Miles claimed with a small grin, running a hand over Royce’s back before turning to Bentley. “What about you, Bent?”
Bentley thought for a minute, chewing lightly on the inside of his cheek. “I was gonna say that I don’t want to be in our room alone, but I just really like being with you guys so I’ll stay here too.”
Miles and Royce chuckled softly as Bentley made his way to the head of Miles’ bed and got himself comfortable. Miles turned to Royce, pressing a palm to his brother’s forehead before he could move. “How’s the headache, baby? You think that Tylenol is working yet?”
“A little,” Royce replied. “My face still feels like it’s on fire from that whole episode.”
Miles nodded as he removed his hand. “I bet, but it should be gone by morning. If it’s not, we’ll get you some more and you can rest in bed, yeah?”
Royce nodded slowly, sending Miles a smile before making his way up to where Bentley had already stolen a pillow and curled into it. Miles followed suit and, not long after, they had all fallen asleep as the thunderstorm outside eased into just rain. By the time morning had rolled around, the rain had stopped and, although the storm was over, the sky had yet to brighten.
Miles had woken that morning unable to move. Bentley's arm had found its way across his neck and Royce was practically clinging to him the way a koala would. Both of his arms had long since gone numb and, if he was honest with himself, he wouldn't have it any other way.
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The Clone Wars Reacts - Part 5
Or Leah loses her shit at Jar Jar, thirsts for Aayla Secura for an episode and a half, and then swoons for Riyo Chuchi.
Welcome once more to the Reacts series! I’m a busy woman for now but I am setting up a schedule for this series which will be
Today we’re covering episodes 12, 13, 14 and BONUS! 15. This is because I got super bored during episode 14 and basically didnt write anything so, here you go! As per usual, major spoiler alert for season 1 of the clone wars! If you haven’t read the previous parts to this series, I suggest you do so that you can follow along!
Part 1 - Episodes 1 and 2 Part 2 - Episodes 3, 4 and 5 Part 3 - Episodes 6, 7 and 8 Part 4 - Episodes 9, 10 and 11
Tags (if you want to join, my taglist can be found on my page!): @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @girlvader @simping-for-fives @littlevodika @hounding-around @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @onabouteverything @acciokenobi @catsnkooks @captainrexstan @roseofalderaan @fractiouskat
We’re well past the half-way point, so there is 2 parts left of season 1, and then onto season 2! So lets get into it!
Episode 12: The Gungan General
> heheheheheheheh jar jar I am KEEN
> I get hondo and jar jar in one episode
>> this’ll be funny
>>> actually no scratch that, this is gonna be hilarious
> oh and they woke up in a cell this will be fun
> HAHAHAHHAHAHAHA AND THEYRE BOUND TO DOOKU
> DISASTER I TELL YOU
> “if I keep my mouth shut you’ll devise a plan so get off the god forsaken planet?” “YES”
> this dude seems traitorous as fuck (im referring to one of the pirates, not dooku shockingly)
> I wish Ahsoka and Yoda were in this too, I want more disaster lineage
> ah he is indeed a traitor
> “HEIDY HO CHANCELLOR”
> JAR JAR WHOO
> “stop messing around, we’re landing. Secure yourself” “MESA TRYING ITS STUCK”
> promptly followed by jar jar falling everywhere
> oh and now he’s in the cockpit
> oh shit that senator guy is definitely dead right?
> “do control tour protégées insolence” “anakin, control your insolence, the count is concentrating”
> “do we know where we’re going?” “Ssh anakin” “DO we know where we’re going?”
> is it safe? Of course it i- riiiiiight
>> I forgot this was the clone wars for a second, this is gold
> FRIENDS DONT DRUG FRIENDS HONDO
> y’know, dooku’s quite amusing when he’s not trying to kill my favourite characters
> “are you now in command” “uh no, binks is the highest ranking” ooooohhhh boy
> ooooooohhhh and some mind tricks too, nice
> I hate to say this, but jar jar is actually smart
> holy shit
> beasties are nearby too, we’ll be fine. they run, we run
>> Dayum jar jar actually making good decisions?
> I present a real and accurate image of my reaction to this statement
> Mesa be having an idea oooohhh booooyyy
> obi wan that is no way to speak to your grandmaster
> be patient master the count is elderly and doesn’t move like he used to
> I would kill you both now if I didn’t have to drag your bodies
>> HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH this is the only reaction I’ll accept
> then falling all over each other is the only thing I’ve ever needed to see
> “ this is not going well” no shit
> my question is why did obi wan not drop Dooku?? Does he actually still care about this man?
> you’re right, I don’t think youre going to be friends 🤦♀️😂
> sneaky lying snake
> bruh they don’t even know you’ve got the Jedi captive??????????
>> so how does that work you dumbass
> no shit, you will look like fools obi wan
> “there be some bombad clankers” 😂😂
>> “huh YOURE right, bombad clankers” I love the shock
> YOURE RIGHT HE IS SMARTER THAN HE LOOKS, GIVE JARJAR SOME CREDIT
> oh boy anakin, just keep your mouth shut genius
> man electrocution doesn’t look like fun
> HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH
> The next few lines of confused joy are me reacting to jar jar somehow single handedly taking out 3 tanks
> what the fuck
> JarJar I I’m what-
> JUST DID A GOOD THING, I DONT REGERT THIS THING AT ALLLLLLLL
> fuckin JarJar was great
> “KILL HIM HES NOT A REPRESENTATIVE, HES A PLAGUE” I’m ded 💀😢💀
> serves you right you snake, now dooku gonna choke your ass
> oooohhhhh that’s how these two twits (hondo and obi-wan) became friends
> “and... he knows where you live” Oof the subtle threat is real
> hem I love obi wan very much and his sarcasm
Episode 13: Jedi crash
> I JUST SAW AAYLA I AM EXCITED I AM ALSO ATTRACTED TO HER VERY MUCH
> SHES HOT
> I LOVE HER
> AND HER VOICE JUST MAKES ME ☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️☺️
> I wish I was bly, not gonna lie
> I have a quick question - the 501st colour is blue right? Then why do they have a gold squad, doesn’t the extra colours just confuse things?
> I love seeing anakin and Ahsoka in action coolest thing to watch
> And anakin
>> I am also quite attracted to him
>>> imagine dragging your hands through that hair as he- wait no I have minors in my followers not gonna finish that
> Uh oh
>> Oh anakin you twit
>>> HE LOCKED HOMSELF IN WITH AN EXPLOSION JDGKJDJFKFKFKFKFF
> HES INSANE
> Are all Jedi so reckless? Just the good ones - love this by the way
> Oooohh shit for a STAR
> I mean like? I know anakin doesn’t die, but this shit is concerning
> Perfected the art of destroying ships and getting master almost killed? Sounds familiar
> I hate it when they just call them “padawan “ it just feels very impersonal like bleh
> Like I love aayla but god the Jedi preach some bullshit
>> God forbid someone raises a child and gets attached to it
>>> Like for fucks sake
>>>> Can you tell this is something I’m passionate about?
> Anyway, moving on
> Oh hi anakin! You’re alive!
> That bird lookin thing is tryna eat my boy 😤
> Oop - well that dudes dead
> Aawwwwwww aayla looks so sad, this makes me sad too
> Can we just appreciate this?
> Well these little critters are cute
> Ooooohhh I think I agree with this little dude
> You can skip the paragraph if you like, its just me going off about ‘peacekeeping’
> Alright gonna get mildly into it for a second, the clone wars really gets into it with episodes like this, displaying how the entire galaxy was starting to lose faith in the Jedi and their peacekeeping ways, in the movies we just got that people just started hating the Jedi because they became part of the war, but this really fleshes it out and shows just how slowly and gradually the loss of faith is. Because he’s right, the Jedi aren’t peacekeepers anymore, they bring as much destruction with them that the separatists do and have become symbols of war. They’re fighting for a good reason yes, but they can no longer claim that they are peacekeepers or that they played no role in this war.
> ANYWAY BACK TO REACTS
> AH MY TWO FAVOURITE WOMEN AND A PRETTY BACKGROUND AGAIN!! They really do be doing me a great service
Part 14: Defenders of Peace
> I’m really not into this episode, just saying it now
> Anakins just as bad as obi wan, like honestly just chill bro, fucking REST
>> MY BOYS DESERVE SOME GODDAMN REST AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL OK-
> Okay but is it taking a life if it’s a droid?
> Ugh this dudes ugly as fuck
> What did you think was gonna happen?? Of course your village was going to be ransacked
> I could go on forever about the pointlessness of this war like it just makes me mad palpatine you slimy git-
> My reacts this episode are really boring huh, I’m not into it 😭
*fully I didn’t write anything for about 10 minutes here because it’s just a little boring*
> HOLY SHIT NOW THATS A FUCKING WEAPON
> Yep sorry that’s it for this ep, I’m so bored 😂
>> Anyway, bonus episode because that one was short!
Part 15: Trespass
> YES OBIWAN WOHOOOOOOOOOOOOO
> AND IS THAT RIYO CHUCHI I SPY?????
> Hahahahahahahhahahaha it’s not tatooine, you got that right
> Oh god this dude already sounds like a dick (its the chancellor dude but not palpatine)
> Why’s he so defensive over it?
> Oh yikes, that does not look good
> Seppies don’t do that though - this is... odd
> Ah and the same thing has been done to the droids
> Off topic, but I think I’m going to make a clone wars drinking game that I can do while I do my reacts, so I’m going to make that this week, send me your ideas in the comments or dm me!
> Back to ep - pfffffffttt obi wans little taps and then anakin really goes WHACK
> Anyway I’m going to do this in the next couple days and then every Friday night I’ll watch a few eps and drink away
> Alright back to the episode once more
> Abominable snowman????
>> Definitely
> This is gonna go well isn’t it?
> “Well? Say something”
>> “Just shut up” *visible eye roll*
> What the fuck is their mouth
> Okay really obi wan, I think it’s pretty clear they don’t speak basic
> YEEEEEEAAAHHH THATS MY BOI ANAKIN
> Awwwwwwww that shits cute, fucking bear huugggg I want to be hugged like that
> I’m not fussed if it’s anakin, obi wan or kit fisto but please someone love me
>> Preferably kit fisto
> Anyway this dudes a dick (again, its the chancellor dude)
> They obviously have intelligence, and this dude has issues
>> I’m thinking he’s trying to compensate for something 👀
> Oof you really gonna tell a Jedi what to do?
> HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA the other people’s were there already
> Ugh he reminds me of my very racist grandparents oh boy
> You’ve been told like 4 times that it is not your jurisdiction anymore and you still can’t take it?
>> BRUH
> She’s so tiny and adorable and her voice is just 🥰🥰🥰🥰
>> Oh no
>>> I’m simping for another character
> Surely this guy dies
> HAHAHAHAHAH HE JUST GOT SPEARED SERVES YOU RIGHT MOTHERFUCKER
> What a dick, he shall not be missed
> She’s just, so pretty??? And smart????
>> FUCK MY BISEXUAL ASS CANT HANDLE THIS
> he’s seriously not dead yet?
> AAAHH RIYO YOU SMART GIRL YEEEEESSSS NEGOTIATE THAT PEEEEAAACCEEEE
> THATS MY GIRL SENATOR CHUCHI YEEEESSS
Welp that’s it for today folks, it was lovely, see y’all at some point this week where I say the drinking game rules and then next drunken Friday (even though these are gonna be released on saturdays but I write them on fridays?)
#the clone wars#tcw#the clone wars reacts#reacts series#star wars ahsoka#anakin skywalker#ahsoka tano#obi wan kenobi#kit fisto#riyo chuchi#jar jar binks#basically a leah simp fest#fucking sigh#it took one (1) ep for me to simp
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The Countdown
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: you and bucky have a small fight before a mission during the holidays and you’re both irked at each other.
Warnings: cursing, alcohol
Word Count: 2791
A/N: inspired by s1e14 of the oc titled ‘the countdown’. i only watched the first season, but i always thought the new year’s kiss moment was beautiful. i listened to dice by finley quaye a lot while writing this (also found this song on the same episode of the oc)
_______________________________________________________________________
“You were supposed to be home for the holidays! And for the new year!” You say, irritation stewing in your belly. You cross your arms and shift your weight to your right side.
“I was home for Christmas! Doesn’t that count for something?” Bucky retorts.
“Neither of us even celebrate Christmas like that…”
“So? I was still here!”
“We were supposed to ring in the new decade together!”
“So what would you have me do? Tell the world to pause just because you want a New Year’s kiss?”
“Well, excuse me for wanting to start the new year and the new decade with my boyfriend! I guess I’m asking for too much from you, huh?”
“I guess you are!”
You roll your eyes so far to the back of your head that you are certain you can see the whites of your skull. You look away from him, so he can’t see the hurt in your chest. Why is he so nonchalant about it? Doesn’t it mean as much to him as it does to you?
Evidently not.
“Whatever. Have fun. Be safe I guess. Don’t get too injured. I won’t help you with anything more than bruised knuckles.”
I love you, you stupid idiot.
Bucky lets out a chuckle despite himself. He’s already dressed in his tactical suit, buckles and velcro done and all. You knew he had to go, but damn, would it kill him to look a little sad about leaving you for over a week and missing New Year's Eve and New Year's Day with you?
You can hear Sam calling for him out in the kitchen of your apartment.
“Well, I guess you’ve gotta go,” You shrug, “Have fun on your trip. You guys are going to Bali, right?”
“Don’t be like that,” Bucky murmurs, a faint cloud forming in his normally clear eyes.
“Enjoy your beers and your Mai-Tais, Samuel,” You call out, narrowing your eyes at Bucky.
“Leave me outta it, baby girl,” Sam replies.
You hand Bucky his black duffel, trying to thrust it at him and failing because of how heavy it was. He quirks his lips in amusement but falters when you send him a searing glare.
“I’ll see ya when I see ya,” Bucky says. You’re about ready to bite his head off. Why can’t he see it? Why can’t he feel it the way you do?
“Yeah. See ya when I see ya,” You echo, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.
***
“‘See ya when I see ya?’ That was the saddest string of words in the English language I’ve ever heard,” Sam says, thumping Bucky on the back of his head.
“Oh really? Thanks for your opinion,” Bucky snarks, “She knew I had to go!”
“So? She’s allowed to not be happy about it.”
Bucky silences him with a glare and Sam rolls his eyes.
“Y’all are both some idiots.”
***
Bucky hadn’t even kissed you goodbye or told you he was going to miss you. The thought that he wouldn’t miss you leaves you motionless and in tears.
Does he still love you? Does he even like you? How could he look at you like that, like you were annoying him? As if he didn’t love you more than life itself, as if he didn’t spend every night falling asleep to your soft, rhythmic breaths? As if his crevices didn’t match yours, as if his stormy blue didn’t seek your brown warmth?
Had he even looked at you like that? As if you were an annoyance to quell?
He hadn’t kissed you. He hadn’t said goodbye to you.
You can’t help but wonder- is he thinking about you?
***
You haven’t sent Bucky a single text, emoji, meme or photo. It’s been four days since Bucky said ‘he’d see ya when he sees ya’, and the words (or lack thereof) rattle in his mind mercilessly.
They could replace Hydra’s trigger words, he thinks darkly.
But you hadn’t even kissed him goodbye or told him you would miss him. He can’t get your sad, brown eyes out of his mind or the way you had folded in on yourself with your arms twisted together like vines after you had handed him your duffle bag.
He’s half expecting you to dump his stuff out in front of your apartment, indicating that you’re through with him and the darkness and the missions and the waiting and just… all of it.
You deserve better, he tells Sam grimly as they are staking out a Hydra base in the middle of Mount Batur in Bali. Bucky can’t help but think that Hydra is incredibly stupid for building a new base in such a heavy tourist location. But maybe they needed a change in scenery.
Sam had sent Bucky a glare, as if to say ‘is this really the best time?’
Bucky sighs, “Why was that so dramatic? ‘I’ll see you when I see you? Seriously? God, I want to electrocute myself every time I remember that I said that.”
“Tell Zemo that. He’ll be more than happy to fulfill that wish of yours,” Sam snorts.
“I miss her,” Bucky whines, “I’m so stupid, Sam.”
“So tell her,” Sam says simply with a small smile, “Including that last part. Multiple times.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t even kiss her or say goodbye. I’m the worst. But I wouldn’t blame her. If she wanted to go, I mean. I feel like I’m too much and not enough at the same time,” Bucky confesses softly, anxiety filling his voice.
“Sounds like you both need to sit down and talk. But before that, just call her-”
Bucky’s already calling you, eyes automatically searching for your name and the star emoji next to it. International fees be damned.
“I didn’t mean right now!”
***
You’re absent-mindedly scrolling on your phone, the blue light from the screen keeping your mind stimulated despite the fatigue behind your eyes. It’s 3:12 AM, you’re sleeping on Bucky’s side of the bed and you miss him. You wonder what he’s doing- is he safe? Is Sam safe? Is he protected? Does he know that you love him?
You can’t believe you let him go without saying goodbye, without a kiss, without telling him you loved him. You just said ‘you’d see him when you see him’. Well, in your defense, he said it first.
Hovering over his name, you contemplate calling him. Nah. He’s probably busy.
But he always told you he’d never be too busy for you. And that was true- you had called him a few times in the middle of anxiety attacks, or during a bout of insomnia- just to name a few instances. Despite the fact that he had been in the crux of a mission, fighting people off, dodging bullets left and right… He had tucked his cell phone in the crook of his neck and ear to calm you down in his low, comforting voice. You had been able to hear the rhythmic beats of his footsteps, with the occasional yell as he told you about his day, told you to follow his breaths, and listed the things he liked and loved about you. His voice was your favorite melody, a melody that fills you up with warmth and familiarity.
You sigh and stare at the ceiling before feeling the buzz of a phone call in the palm of your hand.
Bucky’s name with a yellow heart emoji, along with a photo of both of you pops up on your phone and you accept the call quickly, butterflies strumming in your belly.
“Hi,” You say breathlessly.
“Hi,” Bucky says, sounding equally as breathless. You can hear Sam yelling at him for being distracted, you can hear commotion, glass breaking and doors slamming. But it’s all background noise.
“Are you okay?” You ask, “It’s like… 8 AM over there. Early morning Hydra base break in?”
“Yeah. I haven’t even had a coffee yet, can you believe it?”
“Those Hydra guys won’t know what hit ‘em,” You chuckle.
There’s a beat of silence between both of you.
“Hey… I’m sorry I left things so weird before I left. I’ll see ya when I see ya? Who the fuck says that,” Bucky mutters and smiles when you laugh, “I miss you, I’m sorry I won’t be there to start the new year with you, sweetheart. I’m such an idiot. And I’m sorry I made you feel so small.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye to you,” You whisper, “I miss you, I always do.”
“I know, honey. I always do, too,” Bucky murmurs, closely evading a punch to the stomach and a kick to the shins, “Save a kiss for me, will ya?”
Bucky groans when he gets punched in the nose and you wince at the cracking sound.
“Ouch, that didn’t sound so good,” You remark, “Come back to me in one piece, will ya?”
“I will,” Bucky promises, “I gotta bring you out here someday. You’d love it.”
“I think I would, too. Bali looks beautiful. We’d both get nice and tan on those pretty beaches.”
“You’re already tan,” Bucky snorts, “You’d get that nice, bronzed glow.”
“And don’t you forget it,” You yawn widely.
“Get some rest, honey,” Bucky murmurs. You hear a muffled explosion in the background and somehow you still yawn.
“Be careful out there, sweetheart,” You reply mildly and then after a second, “I’ll see ya when I see ya.”
“Stop making fun of me,” Bucky whines and you laugh.
“Goodnight, honey.”
***
Specks of gold sit on the walls of your friend’s apartment, glittering at every turn of your head. It’s simple, paired with a large balloon of a bottle of Moet champagne, with smaller balloons coming out of the opening of the bottle. Strings of pale yellow fairy lights line the ceilings of the apartment, casting a slight glow on everyone in attendance.
Your friends have outdone themselves this year. They had asked for your recommendations on decorations, which had been your duty. So truly, you had outdone yourself this year. There is a station for champagne bottles chilling in buckets of ice and champagne flutes. And another station of liquor, mixers and solo cups to drink out of, as well as finger foods and snacks. It had been a potluck style party and everyone brought different entrees to have for dinner.
You had objected to the red solo cups- “We can afford to drink out of something nicer than red solo cups!”
And the subsequent retort- “And who’s going to wash all the glasses, huh?”
So the red solo cups stayed and you tried your best to not think about how out of place they looked with all of the gold and glitter. Everyone was wearing a mix of black, silver, gold or burgundy. And you? You were wearing a silk, olive green camisole, black pants and a black blazer with a glittery finish to it. Golden teardrops hang on your earlobes, swishing with every turn of your head and a necklace that Bucky had bought you sits along on the column of your throat. You had left your chunky heels at the door- of course you wanted to show off your New Year’s manicure and pedicure to your friends.
Several rounds of games go by- Cards Against Humanity, What do you Meme, and of course, beer pong and flip cup and then more food and drink. It’s about thirty minutes to midnight and you haven’t heard from Bucky in a few hours. You had sent him photos of yourself getting ready, selfies with your friends and of the decorations. All of the texts say that they’ve been delivered. But maybe he’s busy.
You’re starting to feel the sting a little bit when couples start to get cozy with one another, some cuddling subtly and some cuddling not so subtly. You check your phone once more, wondering where in the world Bucky could be. At least you have the solace that he’s safe- he had told you that everything was okay, they had gotten the information they needed. Him and Sam were safe.
Sticking your phone in the back pocket of your pants and fixing yourself a mixed drink, you rally everyone together for toasts to end the decade off. With Bucky burning brightly in the back of your mind.
***
You call Bucky at 11:56 PM. You’re not sure where he is, if he’ll even have cell reception, but you do it anyway. He doesn’t answer and you go straight to voicemail. It’s 11:58 PM by the time you decide to leave him a voicemail.
“Hi,” You begin, “Um… It’s probably already next year where you are, right? Happy new year, honey. To many more new years, new adventures and new… everything. I’ll text you in the morning, miss you, love you.”
With your heart feeling a little lighter, you join your friends in the living room to watch the countdown live. You don’t notice that one of your friends has disappeared and another one has a sly look on her face when she glances over to you.
***
Bucky is sweating bullets. He’s been running around the city for the last hour, from one edge to another. Sam and Bucky had finished up their mission late on the day before New Year’s Eve and Bucky thought it would be cute to surprise you before midnight on New Year’s day.
But of course, their quinjet had had a few technical difficulties, they had run into some trouble, and it had taken them behind schedule a few hours.
So now, Bucky is currently sprinting to Williamsburg from the subway station because the subway car going to Brooklyn is currently out of service for the next forty-five minutes.
Just his luck. This is the most stressed Bucky has probably ever been.
***
It’s 11:56 PM when Bucky feels his phone vibrating. He quickly checks who it is, silencing it when he sees that it’s you calling. Bucky is currently running up twelve flights of stairs to get to your friend’s apartment building. The elevator was taking far too long, and Bucky was far too impatient to wait.
To the twelfth floor he goes.
Bucky hears his phone buzzing again, but just for a second. It’s a voicemail and he’s certain it’s from you. His heart sputters for a moment at the thought of you missing him. As it always does.
Just two more floors to go. Sam would mock him for how long it’s taking him to get to the twelfth floor.
With wide eyes and his chest heaving, he sprints down the corridor to apartment number 12-303. He has to make it, he has to get to you before…
Ten!
Apartment 12-295 is on his right.
Nine!
Apartment 12-299…
Eight!
Apartment 12-301…
Much to his relief, the door to apartment 12-303 is unlocked. He had texted your friends hours ago, asking them to please leave the door unlocked. At least that had gone according to plan.
Your friends peek over to see him at the doorway and each give him a smug smile. Your back is facing away from him as you’re watching the countdown on the television screen. You turn your head a fraction, looking over your shoulder to call out for everyone to come watch the countdown, and then you see him.
You gasp loudly, hands over your mouth in complete surprise. Your heart is singing for him, begging you to to join him. You’re tethered to him, feet moving of their own accord. Time stops for a moment, the faint sounds of the seconds counting down were nothing but static in your ears. All you can see is Bucky. Bucky who had done who knows what to make this special for you.
Bucky’s right in front of you with a small smile. He pulls you to him, not wasting a second before pressing his lips to yours just as the raucous cheers of happy new year go off around them. It’s just Bucky and you standing there with his hands cupping your cheeks and your hands light on his wrists. Glitter and confetti gently falls on his shoulders and your dark hair, giving you a crown of sparkles. Your soul is aflame, and you’re unable to keep yourself from smiling into the kiss.
He pulls away with bitten lips and rests his forehead against yours. He pulls a speck of confetti from your nose and kisses you once more.
“Happy new year’s, honey,” Bucky murmurs.
“Happy new year’s, baby,” You say, kissing his chin, “Thank you for doin’ this for me.”
“I told ya,” Bucky grins, lopsided and your favorite, “Told ya I’d see ya when I see ya.”
***
tags: @coal000 @hootyhoobuckaroo @buckyforbreakfast @lesqui @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @sergeantbarnescaptainrogers @whothehellisbucky
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Ringing Ears
CW: canon-typical violence, lady whump, vertigo, nausea, ringing ears, disorientation, banter that may or may not be witty
Tag list: @killtheprotagonist @whumptober2020
Fandom: She-ra and the Princesses of Power
Characters: Scorpia, Adora/She-ra, Entrapta & Emily
--
She-ra was an unstoppable super weapon. She-ra was the strongest anyone had ever seen. She-ra’s muscles were massive. She-ra’s sword was a thing of epic myth. She-ra was toweringly tall. She-ra could throw a tank. She-ra, She-ra, She-ra, no one could go head to head with She-ra.
No one, except Scorpia. And Scorpia was getting pretty sick and tired of hearing about She-ra.
She gave the order to retreat, commanding her cadets and soldiers away from the base that was basically forfeit anyway. The Rebellion had taken the day, but Scorpia? Scorpia was interested in a singular, personal victory. She took a page out of Catra’s book and lured She-ra away from her group, out into the open, where there was nothing but sword, pincer, and two determined glares.
“Where’s your handler?” She-ra called, mocking.
“Why don’t you try focusing on literally anyone else for longer than ten seconds?” Scorpia called back, tail twitching irritably. “You’ve got bigger threats to worry about.”
“Where? All I see is one lone woman.”
But back before She-ra had shown her face, Scorpia had been known as a one-woman army. She squared her massive shoulders and clacked her pincers, beckoning.
She-ra cracked her knuckles. “Your funeral.”
She-ra surged forward, and sure, okay, that kind of speed wasn’t something Scorpia could contend with. But when she brought her sword down, Scorpia blocked with her pincer and did not falter. Didn’t even flinch under the force. Even now, She-ra had the audacity to be mildly surprised when Scorpia could match her strength. Could shove her off and send her back a step.
“Hey, speaking of, where are all your handlers?” Scorpia asked, slowly circling her opponent. “Last I checked, the only reason you made it through our tower fight was because literally all of them had to come rescue you.”
She-ra grunted angrily and sprung again, Scorpia blocking each swing of her sword until it caught on one of her spikes and they stood there locked again.
“Jealous because I have friends and you don’t?” She-ra asked.
“See, that’d make sense if it were true, but it isn’t.” Scorpia yanked, hard, and almost wrenched the sword out of her grasp. Even so it left her off balance, and Scorpia took the opening to lash out with the only fast part of her body. She-ra only barely managed to parry, Scorpia’s stinger whistling past her shoulder so tantalizingly close.
They exchanged another series of blows, Scorpia actually forcing ground. She wasn’t used to fighting at eye-level with an opponent, but then again, neither was She-ra. And She-ra, she was arrogant. Easily frustrated.
“Gah!” she shouted as Scorpia shoved her back again, her tail missing again, but worth it for the look on the blonde’s face. “How are you doing this?!” she shouted in irritation, “No one is stronger than She-ra!”
Scorpia’s lovely face twisted down into a snarl. “No, Catra isn’t stronger than She-ra! You’re not fighting Catra now!” Scorpia used her well-muscled legs to launch herself forward, five feet of speed but no further. It was as far as she needed. “You’re fighting me,” she stated darkly, She-ra forced down to one knee as she caught the full brunt of Scorpia swinging both pincers down at once, caught on her blade but the strength overwhelming her.
She gave a half-roll and kicked out, nearly catching Scorpia in the side, but Scorpia caught her ankle in her pincer. In theory, Scorpia could just apply some pressure and snip her foot clean off, but that would be really mean and also gruesome, so instead Scorpia hauled She-ra up, up into the air, and then slammed her back down hard into the ground. Gratified by She-ra’s pained cry, Scorpia did it again. She kicked at Scorpia’s claw mid-air, trying to break free, but Scorpia’s exoskeleton was rock hard and impenetrable, and this time when she landed her sword went skittering.
Proud--no, elated--at her success, Scorpia released She-ra’s ankle and stepped forward, raising her claws high and aiming for her head. Let’s see her stand back up after this. She-ra could see the blow coming, remembered how it had felt when she’d still had her sword in hand, and Scorpia could see her shining eyes widen in pure, animal fear. Then She-ra did something strange. She curled a fist and punched the inside of her own palm.
The shockwave hit Scorpia like nothing she’d ever felt.
Her ears were ringing, badly, and she belatedly realized she’d dropped to the ground at some point. That wasn’t good, she was in the middle of a fight. Where was--oh, there was She-ra, slowly getting up to her feet and collecting her sword. Scorpia tried to stand too, but the world tilted sideways and she felt a wave of dizziness so overpowering, she had to just lay right on back down. Did she have a headache? She was pretty sure she did. Everything was so… mix n matched in her brain. Was she breathing? Oh god she couldn’t breathe--no, wait, she was, she was just breathing really fast, and she wanted to lay down so that the dizziness would stop but she was already laying down.
Oh gee, this was not a good situation to be in, entirely alone except for an enemy. She really needed to get up, except her ears were still ringing, and the dizziness was still sending the world spinny spinny spinning no matter how still she tried to lay.
“Scorpia?” She-ra asked, real concern in her voice, but she was muffled, distant, far away and underwater. Scorpia shifted slightly and the vertigo redoubled, and she groaned, pincers raised to her head. She could hear She-ra starting to panic, and then She-ra started screaming in pain, her poofy hair going SUPER poofy.
Hey wait had she just been electrocuted? She-ra dropped down, gasping in pain, sword clattering to the ground close to Scorpia’s head, and with She-ra down Scorpia could see Entrapta! Holding a stun baton and standing right behind where She-ra had been.
Purple tendrils slithered over Scorpia, around and under her, and she was gently scooped up from the ground. Vertigo hit at being moved, but not as badly as when she tried to move herself.
“C’mon Emily, we’ve got her, let’s go!” Entrapta was yelling, but she still sounded so muffled and far away. At least the ringing was dying down a little.
“Wha’ happen’d?” Scorpia tried to ask.
“I dunno!” Entrapta said cheerfully, Scorpia cradled against her chest (well, more like her entire torso, Entrapta was so small), “It sounded sort of like an EMP but waaaaaay bigger! I’ll have to see if I can’t get her to do it again when I’m prepared so I can get some readings on it. Right now we should get you to the med bay though!”
Scorpia smiled and pressed her face into the crook of Entrapta’s neck. Whatever the case may be, she was sure Entrapta would take care of it all. It was slightly upsetting that Scorpia had lost the fight with She-ra and needed rescued, but it was nice to know that Entrapta and Emily had been there the whole time, looking out for her and ready to step in if needed. It made her feel… valued. Safe, even.
And next time, Scorpia wouldn’t let She-ra use her little super move. Next time, she’d be ready, and she would win.
#whumptober2020#no.25#ringing ears#writing#she-ra#she ra#spop#scorpia#adora#entrapta#emily#canon typical violence#disorientation#vertigo#lady whump#mine
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