#so her arms just hanging :D like a humans would if they dislocated there shoulder

[spark-of-phoenix]

@wild-at-spark from X

Pings from the nurses in the emergency room never fail to pique her interest, especially when there's a patient chart attached to the message. Wild wastes no time in reviewing the patients chart.

"Well you're definitely a trauma case, high speed crashes always do more damage than what people realise." the medic talks to herself. "Running hot.. maybe an underlying infection, that'll need monitoring." Her optics glance down at the warning at the bottom of the chart, sparking excitement for the femme. "Oh hello~" She whistles. "This case just got more fun."

It doesn't take her long to make her way to the ER of the hospital, the nurse who pinged her already there waiting outside the side room. "Stay furthest away from the patient and do what I say." Wild instructs before heading inside.

"So I hear you're not co operating for my staff. Want to tell me why?" Wild asks sternly, while disinfecting her servos.

Fireblade was having a great morning, she hang out with some bots who loved speed just as much as her. They found some low activity streets and raced for the majority of the morning. Then some hot-head decided he didn't like losing to a no-body, 2-wheeling feme and. Boom, One crash later she has a busted shoulder, some fragged up wires and the dude got half his face melted off.

And then she had gotten to the first hospital, but she might as well have taken a trip to the scrapyard.

Doctors really think they know everything, even after repeated strong words that the flames was not the problem, and they where not hurting her. They insisted she was wrong. That she was damaged. So what if she had thrown a bitchfit and burned a couple of hands to protect herself? Now she's dangerous and a problem. Story of her life. So here she is. Thrown away to be someone else's problem.

"Because they are all scrap heads who can't do there job." She explains as she looks at Wild. Distain and annoyance as clear as the burning glow of her optics.

"Grams, if you could do your damn job and just fix my fragging shoulder. That be great."

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Dead Things || Morgan & Kaden

@chasseurdeloup

Just two friends having a walk in the woods. Guest-starring Ashley the Zombie!

It surprised Morgan that Kaden would choose her to walk in the woods with to let off steam and vent safely. It seemed like the sort of thing to do with a girlfriend, but maybe Regan and her denial blinders were a little much for him just now. And for all the times Morgan had been driven to sign off on him with a ‘fuck you’ on her lips, she did consider them to be friends of a certain kind. He was kind at heart, kinder than he let on even to himself. He had his anger, which Morgan still couldn’t quite fit her head around, but if his life had been anything like Deirdre’s, he had plenty of reason to be. She’d wished he had suggested a place a little less spooky than the woods, but it wasn’t like she could enjoy anything from the counter at Coffee Plus. Morgan reached out with what senses she had and tried to remember the comfort they’d once given her. The sanctity of nature. Never judging, always open to her. The soft earth, ready to take her body back some day. Did it welcome them now? Did either of them know how to fit in a space as simple and open as this?

“Shucks, Kaden,” Morgan teased, “I didn’t think you’d ever ask me to meet you like this. If you’d given me more time I’d have made us BFF bracelets.” She elbowed him gently as they walked. “What’s been up with you?”

There had been a few moments of calm in Kaden’s life the past week. But something about it felt more ominous than comforting. Even though it was a new moon and it should be the calmest time of the month, something felt off. He couldn’t say what. Maybe he just wasn’t used to peace and quiet. Hell even most of his assignments had been normal. It was possible that was why he felt the need to lean into the weird of hanging out with a supernatural friend. Though, to be honest, he was short on non-supernatural friends at the moment. And no matter how many times him and Morgan went head to head over things, there was something, enough easy rhythm, especially when sharing the realities of having banshee girlfriends; a strange commonality and bond he never expected to have or share with anyone else. Leave it to White Crest.

The mention of friendship bracelets pierced through him as he thought of the stupid leather braclet on his wrist. His nose scrunched a little even though he tried to hide it. He hadn’t planned on bringing up Celeste. Or having to dwell on death for a moment. Hopefully she didn’t catch it, assumed it was an overreaction to her elbow. “Well I’d say a friendship bracelet with me is a death sentence but I guess that’s not a problem is it?” Putain. Fine. Just fucking lean into it. Why not? “I figured we could both use a non-carcass walk every now and then.” He gave a small shrug. “And nothing much. No clue what the fuck I’m doing with my life but I guess that’s just what White Crest does to you.”

“Wow. I was kidding, but I didn’t think you’d give me literal stink-eye,” Morgan said, rolling her eyes. “What, are you afraid the big bad world isn’t ready for us? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” She pretended to be scandalized, gasping and clutching her imaginary pearls, but she could feel herself skirting close to a kind of truth that lay between them. They couldn’t exactly gather round a foosball table with his hunter friends anymore than she could bring him to a movie night with Remmy and Skylar. Granted, her friends wouldn’t ever try to kill him, but that wasn’t a path she should be going down when they were supposed to be enjoying each other’s company critter-free. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she huffed. “Every walk I take is a carcass walk.” She turned to face him, tilting her head so far to one side it threatened to dislocate her neck. “If you have beef with the dead, you really came to the wrong zombie.” She smirked, her smile growing wider as she kept their pace along the path, backwards now. She righted her head and rolled her shoulders. That had helped with muscle strain before, right? “You’re too easy to mess with sometimes. But, I can be serious if you need to talk about big things. Life isn’t for having all the answers, though. It’s not a performance, you know? We learn things. We try. We--”

An animal roared in the distance. It didn’t sound like any creature Morgan knew, but what else could it be? She looked over at Kaden. Did he hear that too? She turned in the direction of the sound. Something was lumbering through the underbrush, something big.

Kaden let out a sigh through his throat. “Very funny. I’m just saying my quota of friendship bracelets from dead girls is officially one. Spot’s taken, you’re too late,” he said, elbowing her back. “So quit your dramatics.” If anyone was going to be okay joking about death, it was Morgan. He knew that much. Honestly, it was nice to have second that he wasn’t just fucking sad about it all. And it was only a second because he looked over to see her fucking head turned around like some kind of horror movie. “Putain de merde, do you have to do that?” His face scrunched in disgust as he turned it away from her. It definitely didn’t turn like that, thank god, but it wasn’t quite enough to avoid the fucking scene of her putitng her head right. His mind flashed to Bea’s head in a jar and if he didn’t feel sick before, he sure did now. “At least warn me before you do.” Yeah he knew that wasn't going to happen.

Unsurprisingly, she had a deep answer to his dumb question. Or he was pretty sure she would have it hadn’t stopped paying attention as soon as he heard a wail. Inhuman, for sure. His stomach dropped. Again. She wasn’t going to like this. At least not if his suspicions were correct. Without thinking, his hand reached back to the knife in his pocket and he positioned himself between her and the rustling in the foliage. Another roar and the creature broke through the bush. A decaying, hungry zombie, shambling towards them. He leapt to act. There was only one thing to do with a monster.

“I didn’t even break anything,” Morgan grumbled, pouting. “And isn’t it good for me to have a positive relationship with my new body? Don’t you want the best for me, Kaden?” But, honestly, it was probably a good thing he hadn’t become completely inured to how dead dead-bodies could be, especially hers. Positioning herself in proximity to human existence was a losing game, but for Kaden...maybe it was the best he could do right now. “I want the best for you too, obviously,” she added, more sincerely.

But the moment was shattered by the figure that leapt out from the underbrush. Morgan recognized her at once. She had only seen her ruined face a few days ago in the cemetery with Rio. “A-ashley--?” She moved forward, but Ashley’s face was too rotted and glazed with hunger to give any intelligible response. She groaned from somewhere deep in her hungry belly and shambled forward, one arm half raised with want. Animals didn’t last long on a dead stomach, even the feast they’d given her, but Stars, she’d hoped Ashley would have at least lasted longer once she was herself again. Her path was clear, but Morgan wasn’t going to go any easier on her now. “Ashley don’t--!” She jumped into her path, holding her by the shoulders and digging in her heels. But Morgan had fed too recently since the last time they’d met, and her muscles were quickly meeting their limit. “Kaden! Help me!” She cried.

There was no doubt in Kaden’s mind what was headed towards him was a monster. The decaying hungry zombie was nothing more than undead bones and decay searching for flesh and organs to tear into. His knife was ready and he was prepared to run in and take care of the situation before this became a problem when Morgan put herself in front of him and started speaking. Did she just say a name? “Wait, do you know that thing?” His stomach fell watching the shambling gaunt body. He wanted to pull Morgan away and just get this over with but she ran towards it and  put herself right in harm’s way. Sure, she was a zombie, too, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t get hurt ever. Putain.

He ran over and wanted to tear her from the threat but it was clear she was fighting her hardest to keep it at bay. Which didn’t exactly bode well. Kaden ran around behind the monster and grabbed its shoulders, pulling back. He’d have to find a way to cut off its head, a knife seemed impractical but it would have to d-- Before he could even consider that, the zombie rounded on him and lunged for his neck. Fuck. He raised his hand and threw a punch in its decaying face, trying to get it away from him. But it was fucking determined. His eyes went wide as he watched the teeth come closer and braced his arm to try and keep it away. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Her name is Ashley!” Morgan snapped. What had she been doing this whole time? Sure, the animal food she’d been given wasn’t going to last long, but she’d had time to hunt or buy or even steal something. Did she not know how? Did she not feel like she could? Morgan gripped the zombie tighter, wrestling against her brute force-- and then she whirled on Kaden, teeth bared.

“Don’t hurt him!” It was the stupidest thing she could’ve said. Ashley didn’t even have enough brain cells to string together who she was. There was no way anything like pleading was going to work right now. Morgan barreled into her from the side, sending them both sprawling to the ground. She pinned her to the forest floor by the shoulder, but Ashley roared and wrenched herself up before she could make her position any more secure. The flesh from Ashley’s arm came straight off and Morgan stared helplessly as the dead limb lay in her grasp. “Shit,” she hissed, scrambling back to her feet to follow the hungry zombie. She was making a beeline right for the hunter and Morgan wasn’t sure if she’d be able to tackle her in time if he didn’t move. “Kaden, get back!” she cried.

“Her what?!” Kaden yelled as he pushed his forearm into the monster’s neck. Putain, it didn’t matter what flesh the teeth connected with, just that they did. His stomach flipped furiously. The thought of being undead was far worse than the threat of death. He may be immune to werewolf bites, but zombies and vampires were still on the table. He could feel his pulse pounding in his chest. And fuck, he’d like it to keep fucking doing so. Desperately, Kaden took his knife and rammed it into the monster’s guts over and over, intestines and rotting flesh tumbling out of its side. It was barely holding itself together anymore but all the same, he was fucking panicking just a bit.

Before he knew it, the monster was thrown away from him by Morgan’s body. Okay. Alright, He had to find something to behead it with. Something more effective than a knife. Shoe lace? No, that would take too long. Morgan could only keep it at bay so long and he had a feeling she wasn’t about to try and kill her “friend.” “I thought you said not all zombies fucking knew each other,” he grumbled as he pulled his belt from his pants. Not great, but it would fucking do.”Mo--” Kaden was about to yell at her to get out of the way but he didn’t have to, the monster was lunging at him all the same. He didn’t listen to his friend and kicked out at the zombie and went to wrap the belt around its neck.

“I just fucking asked her!” Morgan was running as fast as her legs would take her. She could do this. Kaden was bound to have something to restrain Ashley with until they could get her food again. He could hunt her as many deer as she needed. She just needed to get the two of them apart long enough for him to understand what the plan was. She grabbed Ashley from behind, tugging her back as hard as she could by her shirt and wrestling an arm around her neck. “What part of ‘get back’ was hard for you?” She grunted at Kaden. “She’s just starving!” She dragged Ashley back several paces, grimacing as she wriggled and bit at her skin. Her grip loosened as Ashley took a deep chunk out of her arm, and it was all she could do to push the zombie off her feet as she stumbled free. “Give me that,” she said, pulling on the belt in his hands. “You need to run for some fresh deer, or brains, or--fuck!” She hit the ground hard. Ashely’s hand was around her leg, pulling her down with a strength Morgan couldn’t compete against with her humanity intact. “Kaden, what are you doing?”

Kaden really didn’t give a shit if this zombie was hungry or not, but Morgan sure did. And it was hindering him from doing his job. She seemed to insist that she knew this monster and it was very hard for him to care when all he saw were teeth coming towards him, hell bent on tearing into his flesh. “Deer?! You think deer are going to solve this?!” He was just about to solve this his way when Morgan yanked the belt away and he was once again without a way to take care of the problem quickly or easily. Putain. Morgan was down and while deep down he knew that the other zombie couldn’t really hurt her, he didn’t want to risk it. But he had no confidence that Morgan could keep the zombie contained on her own. Kaden reached over and pulled the zombie away from his friend. Or tried to. All he got was a fist full of flesh that had pulled off the bones. “She’s too far gone, Morgan.” The monster turned and hands wrapped around his arm as it pulled at him, teeth coming dangerously close once again. This time he was ready and had his knife braced against its neck. The closer it came to him, the more of its head he hoped he’d sever. It was hungry alright. Hopefully starving to death.

“I don’t know, maybe two of them?” Morgan wrestled with Ashley on the ground. It shouldn’t have been this hard to overpower a woman who was falling apart, but she was still fierce enough to knock Morgan’s bones out of place every time she thought she had the upper hand. And Kaden wasn’t running. Morgan didn’t know how to get it through his thick skull that what she needed wasn’t a rescue, but zombie tofu. “You’re too far gone,” she said through gritted teeth. “Just get her something--no!” Kaden’s knife glared in the twilight around them, slicing deep into Ashley’s neck. Morgan reached out for them from the ground with her broken arms. “Stop! She doesn’t know what she’s doing!” She popped them back into place and scrambled up. Ashley’s neck had been sawed away down to the bone, so fragile and bare for all her thrashing. No one should look like that, she thought. No one’s bones were meant to be bared that way, with rotten flesh staining the surface brown and dripping over the rounded ends. The body protected the bones. All of this was wrong… “Kaden, don’t!”

The knife cut deep into her neck and the stench that came from the rotting severed neck was enough to make him gag. Kaden held it back and kept pushing the knife through. It slid and slipped through what was left of the muscle and then the bone. The monster backed off and started to crumple away. One last whack with the knife and there would be no way for it to regenerate. He was about to do it when Morgan spoke up. All of the fear he felt before was burning away with anger. “No.” It was all he said before taking that final chop to her head, the tenuous connection between the body and it finally removed. All that was left was two piles of disgusting decay. It smelled like the reverse garden in the back of Regan’s apartment, maybe worse. Even before the head was gone, there wasn’t much keeping this together.

“We should burn what’s left.” He frankly didn’t give a shit if she was okay with that or not. Now that he had a moment, he couldn’t stop thinking about what Morgan had said earlier. All of it. “Just get her something, huh? Something to eat?” He could feel the impression of the knife handle pushing into his palm as he gripped it tighter. “Like what? Me?!” He was so close to getting bitten so many times and here she was concerned about a fucking monster. “You knew her, didn’t you? Met her before? You knew her name.” His voice raised louder every fucking sentence. He kicked a lump of decayed flesh away from his shoe. He wanted to kick the fucking corpse but he didn’t feel like trying his luck. “You knew she was like this and you let her--” There was so much he wanted to scream about that he couldn’t even pick where to fucking start. He threw the knife blad first into the ground, making sure it fucking sank in instead. “Morgan what the fuck?!”

“No!” The cry was barely a sound in Morgan’s dead throat as Kaden lobbed off the woman’s head. She stared, mute and trembling, at the remains of her body. All the magic that had been holding her together was gone. There were only masses of green and purple rot and the poor bones that couldn’t hold themselves together anymore. Kaden was yelling, but Morgan couldn’t hold on to any of his words for more than a few moments. “I--I met her once,” she said faintly. “I got her some food. I fed her. It was just...a stupid faun, and the butcher’s whole stock of brains and organs. She...she was scared. I think she was scared. But I don’t know why she didn’t…” Take care of herself. Feed herself. Come up with something better than roaming the woods. Morgan shuddered, thinking of how deep her pit had to be for her to choose living this way, to run away from people who wanted to help. “She ran away before I could do anything more.” Her eyes filled with tears as she finally looked at Kaden, teeming with his hunter rage. “I wasn’t going to let her hurt you. She wasn’t even trying to hurt you, she was just...I don’t know. She was lost, Kaden. Haven’t you ever been lost and stupid?”

“You could barely hold on to her! And your fucking help before led to this!” Kaden said, pointing that the pile of decomposed flesh and bones. “She wasn’t trying to hurt me, she was trying to eat me. I was fucking two seconds from getting bit. A couple of times.” A chill ran through him. There were few fates he could imagine that were worse than being undead. Morgan had adjusted or what-fucking-ever she wanted to call it, but it was the last thing he wanted for himself. And he wasn’t immune. He rolled the muscles of his shoulder blades back, trying to ground himself, pull back. “Lost and stupid was going to fucking kill me, Morgan. If I didn’t-- She was going to eat me. You fucking saw that, right? Putain, if I didn’t have hunter strength--” He gave a small shake of his head. He was so fucking sure she didn’t see it or didn’t care. “What if she came across someone who wasn’t us? What if-- She would have killed them. That’s not some ‘lost stupid’ mistake,” he spat out. “That would be murder. Fucking murder, Morgan. You fail at rehab with monsters and it ends in murder.” He took a deep breath and reached donw for his fucking knife. He wanted to just leave. “This isn’t some fucking game you get to play at.”  

“She is not a monster!” Morgan cried, her voice cracking in her stiff throat. “She was a person, Kaden. Not a ‘this’ or a thing or a--whatever else someone told you she is! She is like me, Kaden! She’s just as much of a person as me! It’s not her fault what her brain does to her when she’s starving, we don’t even know how much of a choice she had! And now we’re never going to because you couldn’t see past the end of your knife long enough to think of a better solution!” She pointed at the body, shaking her head furiously. He couldn’t even feel bad for her. He couldn’t even mourn what he’d taken away from the world. He couldn’t even see her. “That’s murder, Kaden. Not your hypothetical hunter crap. That.”

“That. Wasn’t a person. Not anymore. And it was going to kill me. I’m really glad to know a pile of rotten flesh is worth more to you than--” Kaden couldn’t even finish his sentence. It hurt too much to hear out loud. And he knew the fucking answer already. How often had he seen supernaturals value each other’s lives over human’s? It made him sick. Potential zombie life valued more than a living, breathing human. “There was no time for a better fucking solution. And your attempt at a better fucking solution however long ago your little intervention was clearly didn’t work. She ended up like this.” He was ready to walk away and be done. He was so fucking tired of being told he was wrong for fighting for human life.

“Yes, she was! Ashley was sick, Kaden! People get sick and say and do hurtful things when they’re sick all the time. And we don’t murder them for it, we put them in hospitals! And plenty of your people, your fucking humans do them stone cold sober!” Morgan backed away from Kaden, her insides crawling with disgust. He seemed to come so far and when they were joking around or having their heart to hearts everything between them could feel so nice. She always forgot that to him she was just an exception to a rule about creatures, worse than the dogs he wrangled up for his day job. “But, you know, good job. I’m sure it’ll make a great story to tell all the guys over a beer someday. You showed that starving girl who’s boss all by yourself. If you don’t mind, though, I’m gonna pass on whatever you have lined up next.”

“Sick? What the fuck, Morgan? Sick?!” Kaden was walking away when he heard that, but he turned on his heel to walk back to her. Were they even talking about the same fucking event anymore? Had she even been there just now? “A starving girl? Is that how you think of that?” he shouted pointing once again at the pile of decomp between them. “That was a zombie. Who was very fucking hellbent on eating me.” The more she spoke the clearer it was to him that she didn’t get it. That she saw no value to him or what he did, what had to happen, the reality of things. She had some rose colored zombie glasses or something, he couldn’t figure it out. “You know what, have fun on your walk with your friend there. Because it’s apparently not me. Hope she’s better fucking company. Considering she was higher on your fucking priority list.”

[reverseblackholeofwords]

Bo and Yancy

The Warden has kept Yancy in solitary for two weeks now, trying to shake out the details of his time spent with Professor Beauregard, but while Yancy is locked away, his friends have been on a hunger strike in an attempt to force the Warden to let him go. Someone is going to break first. And Professor Beauregard is determined to make sure it’s the Warden.

Part Six: Happy Together

The human body can go for three weeks without food, give or take, but the temptation of hunger is a wild and ferocious beast, especially when food is so easily accessible, especially when a certain Warden is trying to break his inmates’ staunch hunger strike. Hunger, after all, drives people to do the strangest things. But the Warden isn’t hungry for food, no.

He wants something else entirely.

“Get off of me!” Sparkles growls, thrashing underneath the weight of his rather large, rather gruff friend who is currently sitting on his chest.

Jimmy crosses his arms over his own chest in reply.

“You can’t eat, not until Warden lets Yancy out of solitary,” Tiny reminds him from where she’s sitting on the floor next to his head. “You know this. He’s your buddy, right?”

Sparkles whines and continues fighting against the weight on his chest. “It’s been over a week since I’ve eaten anything, since any of us have eaten! There’s gotta be another way to get Yancy out!”

But Tiny only sighs and lays down on her back next to him, staring up at the blue sky above the yard. “If we break now, the Warden will never take us seriously.” She watches a puffy white cloud pass overhead and thinks of Yancy pointing out clouds to her when she first arrived, scared and defensive and all but mute. She didn’t trust anyone, would bite whoever got too close.

Yancy had pointed out the clouds, all the shapes he could imagine that she couldn’t, until he got her to smile.

“See that one?” Tiny says. “That’s a dog with angel wings.”

Sparkles glances up at where she’s pointing and smiles, a little of that terrible desperation leaving his eyes. “Y-yeah, and the one next to it is a mound of mashed potatoes...”

“Sparkles,” Jimmy warns, and the man beneath him chuckles.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He shuts his eyes and licks his lips. “But what I wouldn’t give for some loaded mashed potatoes with steak...”

“SHUT UP!” The two of them scream in unison, and they all three laugh together, laugh until their sides hurt, which doesn’t take long. Everything hurts when you’re hungry, but they’re doing it for Yancy.

For Yancy.

Beauregard stomps her way into the capitol building with a string of armed guards behind her. She flashes an ID at the woman behind the reception desk and plops her laser gun onto the counter. “I’m here to see the governor.”

The woman, older, frail, and now shakily bringing her glasses up to her eyes, sputters, “D-do you have an appointment, ma’am?”

“I tried to make an appointment.” One of the guards grabs at her arm, and Bo stomps on his foot with the heel of her shoe, “Get off me, Harold. I tried to make an appointment, but the governor doesn’t exactly like hearing from me.”

The receptionist glances at something on her computer and nods. “Ah yes, you’re Ms. Beauregard, the zombie woman.”

“Professor, Professor Beauregard, and I’m not here to talk about zombies, even though they definitely do exist. Carl, if you put your hand on me again, so help me, I will stab this pencil through your eyeball.” She looks back to the receptionist. “I’d like to file a complaint for misconduct of Warden Murder-Slaughter at the Happy Trails penitentiary. He’s been keeping a prisoner there in solitary confinement for over two weeks, which is officially considered cruel and unlawful punishment.”

Bo tosses a pencil at the woman. “Are you writing this down?”

The older woman blushes and fumbles with the pencil before taking down the message on her pad of paper. “This is highly unconventional...”

“Yes, I know,” Bo growls and sends another heated look towards Harold, the security guard. “But considering you people won’t listen to me if I call, I figured a personal visit was my only solution.” She turns back to the receptionist who is still writing. “Include in that message that many of the prisoners are also on a hunger strike due to the unlawful treatment of their friend.”

Movement down the hallway draws Bo’s attention from her mission. The governor himself, an over-stuffed pigeon if there ever was one, emerges from his office only to freeze at the sight of the professor.

“Governor!” She brushes past the two guards and towards the governor who tries to get back into his office before Beauregard catches up with him. “Governor Pruitt, I’d like to report the misconduct of the Warden--”

“Yes, yes, yes,” the governor says with an amiable but thin smile. “I’m sure Mrs. Fitzgerald, my secretary, can get you the proper paperwork, and we’ll inform the Bureau of Prisons. They will send a representative in ten to twelve business days.”

“We don’t have that kind of time governor!” Bo snaps, stomping her heel on the polished marble floors. This whole place is a gaudy, Greco-Roman monument to useless rich men sitting behind mahogany desks pretending to be important, and she’s frankly tired of the whole thing. “There’s a good man being tortured, people starving, all because some Warden has to prove his supreme masculinity!”

“Ms. Beauregard...”

“Professor.”

“Professor Beauregard,” he concedes, “these are hardly good people. They’re murderers and thieves, criminals! I’m sure the whole thing is very easily explained.” He even goes so far to pat her on the shoulder while Beauregard contemplates a Christmas list of his bones and joints she’d like to dislocate. “And they’re hardly honest, either. The whole thing could be a massive fabrication.”

Maybe his shoulder, or his jaw... But Harold and Carl and a few more guards are waiting on either side of her now, ready to drag her away. “Fine, it’s obvious that you’re not going to be any help to me, but if anything happens to my friend, just know that I will hold you personally responsible.” She spins on her heel and begins to stalk out.

Behind her, she hears the governor call out, “Is that a threat, professor?”

“That’s a fact, and a promise,” Bo shouts back at him, never once pausing as she pushes through the double doors. By the time she makes it to the bottom of the stone steps, her phone rings, and she whips it out, half expecting it to be the police. She really might end up in Happy Trails herself if she’s not careful. But whoever she was expecting, it wasn’t him.

“Professor,” the Warden says merrily, “how are you? Was the governor very helpful?”

Bo freezes in her tracks. “What do you want, you bloated piece of--”

“Now, now, Professor. Let’s not bicker, not after I’ve decided to give you a chance to talk some sense into this blockhead.” He pauses as Bo’s breath catches in her throat. His voice is dripping with satisfaction as he continues, “That’s right. I’ll let you see Yancy. Sunday is visitation day, after all, and maybe you of all people can convince him to tell me what I want to know. Then we can put this whole hunger strike business behind us. How does that sound?”

The professor purses her lips. She doesn’t like the idea of talking Yancy into giving up whatever information that the Warden has tortured him over, but if it means that he’ll be out of solitary, if it means those inmates will get to eat again, how can she refuse? “Alright, Warden. I’ll be there.”

The third Sunday of the month, Professor Beauregard arrives at the penitentiary, and when she opens the door to the visiting area, she finds only one person inside. He sits with his head in his hands, his thick black hair hanging over his eyes. The golden light drifting in through the windows around him makes him look small as a child and soft around the edges.

“Yancy?” she calls, frozen in place in the doorway, something like panic ringing through her veins. “Yancy?”

But he doesn’t look up. He doesn’t say a word, and Beauregard’s heart sinks into her stomach like a stone beneath the dark water of the ocean.

[supergirlfics]

Can you do a Lucy x B!D?Where the reader is a badass DEO agent married to her. Reader goes alone on a mission to find out some intel and it all turns to shit.They torture the Reader ALMOST to death for info about Kara and Alex, but the Reader won’t break.Maybe Lucy is losing her shit because the Reader has not been back for hours When she finds they Reader, her sisters and Lucy takes care of the Reader afterwards.❤️💙❤️

You’d lost all strength. You couldn’t even find it in you to hold up your head, so it slumped hopelessly toward the ground. Your arms hung above you, holding up the rest of your body that swung several feet off the ground. 

This was it. This was the end. You were sure of it.

It had started out as a covert mission into Cadmus. You went in undercover and alone. Lucy Lane, your wife - the love of your life - had tried to come with you, but you didn’t let her. This was your mission. You weren’t going to allow Lucy to put herself in harm’s way for you.

The mission quickly went sideways. You still weren’t sure how, but they discovered your identity. As soon as they had, the fight was over. You tried to flee, but even as you ran, you knew the attempt was futile. Guards sat at every corner. Alarms blared in your ears. 

As you ducked around a corner, you could feel a bullet tear through your leg. The intense pain slowed you down immensely. You became confused, disoriented. Your gun had been lost somewhere in the fray.

“Leaving so soon?” A woman appeared from around a corner. You knew that woman - it was who you had been sent gather intel on, though you hadn’t laid eyes on her until that moment. Evangeline Turner. 

She straightened her black pantsuit, heels clicking against the stone floor as she stalked toward you. Her blond hair was pulled into a tight bun, a sneer formed against her bright red lipstick, and her green eyes pierced you with their icy glow. 

“Ah, Miss Turner,” You said, trying to sound nonchalant as you leaned against the wall for support. “I was wondering when you would turn up. I’ve been hoping to speak to you.”

You could hear several guards behind you preparing to fire. Evangeline held up a hand. “Hold your fire. This one’s mine.” She stood far too close. One crooked finger hooked under your chin, forcing you to look up at her. With a deep breath, you tried to turn away, but she held your head firmly. “You will be very useful indeed.”

You moved to punch Evangeline, but she was quicker than you’d expected. She grabbed your hand, spinning you around so your arm was pinned behind your back. You could feel your shoulder dislocate and cried out in pain. “I see you don’t learn. Guards, leave us. I need to get to know this Agent Y/L/N better.”

“What are you going to do?” You asked.

“Oh, nothing too terribly painful. Yet.”

Evangeline shoved you forward and you stumbled before settling on an agonizingly slow pace on your injured leg. 

You arrived in a small room. It was dark, lit by a single bulb that seemed to be burning out. If it weren’t for the single, metal armchair, the room would have been empty. Evangeline shoved you into the chair and metal cuffs shot from the arms and legs to hold you firmly in place. 

“I hear you know Supergirl,” Evangeline said. “And Director Danvers? Is that true?”

You laughed. You weren’t going to tell her anything. 

“Listen here, Agent Y/L/N.” Evangeline gripped your arms, putting her face way too close to yours again. What was with villains and personal space? “If you know what’s good for you, you will speak.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” You spat. “I’m no traitor.”

A fist connected with your cheekbone. It stung, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

“That all you got?” You asked.

Evangeline strode to a spot on the wall near the door, exposing a panel. You heard the loud click of a button and then pain spread through your entire body. It was both electric and intensely cold. But you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing you in pain, so you gritted your teeth and waited for the pain to subside. 

Eventually, you lost time. Evangeline threw everything at you, but still you wouldn’t break. You were beaten, waterboarded, electrocuted, given nothing to eat or drink. Bags formed under your eyes. Your throat became so sore, you didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to. Your stomach held a constant ache that turned into a vivid, searing pain.

“Tell me what I need to know,” Evangeline said. “And your suffering will end.”

“You mean you’ll kill me,” You croaked. “Might as well get it over with because if you haven’t broken me yet, you’re never going to.” You spat blood from your mouth.

“Your precious Supergirl is never coming for you.” Metallic knuckles sslammed against your face. Once, twice. Eventually, the lies started to make sense. They seemed to become true. You were nothing but a toy to ripped apart. You were only a shell of your former self.

Eventually, Evangeline seemed to give up on drawing information. It was only then that you were removed from the chair. You were forced to walk, though your legs didn’t seem to work, down a series of long hallways before coming to a room rigged with ropes on a pulley system.

The ropes were tied around your wrists and you were hoisted into the air. You didn’t try to struggle. There was no strength remaining. You would die hanging in the air like a human punching bag. If you could even call this hollow form human anymore.

“Y/N!” 

You must have been hallucinating. The voice sounds like your wife. But that wasn’t possible. You were alone.

The door burst open and you flinched instinctively. Three figures appeared in front of you. But they weren’t Evangeline. They weren’t Cadmus soldiers at all. Supergirl, Alex, and Lucy stood before you. 

“Oh my -” Lucy’s hands covered her mouth as tears filled her eyes. 

“Y/N,” Alex said. “Supergirl.”

Alex hadn’t finished the word before Supergirl was in front of you. You could feel your sister’s arms wrapped around you. You were scared - scared of any kind of touch. Your mind screamed in protest, but your body hung numbly. 

“It’s okay,” Supergirl said. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay.” She tore through the rope with her head vision and lowered you onto the floor. You arms fell over Supergirl’s neck as if you were hugging her, but you still didn’t move. You just wanted the nightmare to end.

You could feel hands fiddling with the rope that burned through your skin. You grunted at the pain, glancing up to see Alex through your glazed eyes as she worked to untie the thick knots.  

Lucy still stood by the door, frozen in horror. But when your wrists were untied and Supergirl lay you on the floor, she shook herself out of her stupor, rushing to join your sisters around you.

“Y/N,” Alex said. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

“Sweetheart,” Lucy said. “Talk to us. It’s okay. You’re safe now. We’re all here.” Lucy grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze.

“She’s not responding,” Kara said. “Alex, is she going to be okay?”

You could hear there voices, but it was as if you were underwater. When they spoke, it was muffled and difficult to understand. 

“We need to get her back to the DEO,” Lucy said. 

“I’ll take her,” Supergirl volunteered. “Can you two get out of here on your own?”

“We’ll be fine,” Alex said. “Just go. Hurry.”

Supergirl lifted you into her arms. You were never big, but you felt as small and fragile as a young child or an emaciated dog. 

When your eyes opened, the first thing you noticed was how bright the room was You hadn’t seem bright lights in so long it hurt your eyes. The next thing you noticed was the comfortable bed beneath you. For a moment, you were fine. For a moment everything was okay.

But then the memories flooded back. Your heart and mind began to race as you struggled to get up. You felt something pressing into your skin, reached over, and ripped it out. The IV needle fell to the floor as your hand began to drip blood. But you didn’t care. You had to get out of there.

Just before you could your feet touched the ground, strong arms wrapped around you, holding you firmly in place.

You screeched. Screams echoed from your lungs as you thrashed.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s Kara. You’re safe now. You’re in the DEO.”

You barely heard her over the sound of your screams. But she continued to speak soothingly, holding you against her. 

“You’re okay.” Kara repeated the words over and over until your screams started to fade and your struggling slowed to an occasional spasm. You weren’t fighting because you didn’t want to - you’d run out of energy. You couldn’t keep fighting. 

Alex and Lucy appeared in the doorway, staring at you with deep concern and Kara ran a hand through your hair and over your cheek, still repeating those same words.

Tears spilled from your eyes as Kara held you. There was only a small part of you that still recognized the people you loved so much.

“Hey Kiddo,” Alex said. “It’s going to be okay. You’re in the DEO now. Nobody can hurt you anymore.”

“Sweetheart,” Lucy said, brushing a hand carefully over your swollen face. “I’m right here. I won’t leave you.”

As you stared into their faces, it seemed to click who these people were. They were your family. You allowed your head to roll back onto Kara’s shoulder.

“That’s right,” Kara said. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

“I promise,” Lucy said. “I will never, ever let you get hurt again.”

You stared into Lucy’s eyes, trying to communicate without words. You couldn’t seem to form them, so you hoped she understood. Hoped she knew it wasn’t her fault. A shaking hand reached toward her and she took it, turning it over to see blood dripping from where the IV had been.

“I got it,” Alex said, placing a hand on Lucy’s shoulder. 

You allowed Alex to bandage your hand and when she was done, she perched herself on the edge of your bed, stretching an arm around both you and Kara. 

“Are you in pain?” Lucy asked. She hadn’t moved from the chair at the bedside, but kept one hand on yours and the other on your knee. “Can you talk to me, sweetheart?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your head turned away from Lucy in shame. You couldn’t do what she was asking for.

“Hey,” Lucy said, adjusting so both hands rested on yours. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. Just know that I’m here and I love you.”

[sabine-leo]

A smile to remember

Author: @sabine-leo

Chapters:  5?

Genre: Fluff & Humor

Note: I´m a bit uncertain with this chapter, but i thought i needed it that way to build up the story a bit more. Hope you hang in there and enjoy it anyways!

-Chapter 5-

The one with a new dress and cupid in disguise

 The week had just started and even though you really liked your work and a certain man appeared now and then you couldn´t wait for the weekend. Wednesday after work you went shopping with Clara. Something new for your outing on Saturday. You found yourself a stunning dress. Darkest Ocean Blue with beads and sequined. Your curves were hugged in all the right places. It ended mid-thigh but fringes swayed down to your knees. It was the perfect “Gatsby” dress to wear to a Jazz Club and dance in it till morning came. You turned in front of the mirror and smiled.

“Oh wow (Y/N) this is gorgeous. You look stunning!” Clara comes out of her dressing room. She was wearing a 20´s style pantsuit looking fabulous herself.  “Look at you Clara, you look stunning yourself!” Some 15 minutes later you payed for your new clothes and had a quiet dinner with Clara. It was a nice evening, but you are happy to be home now. Smiling at the 2 gorilla drawings side by side in your Livingroom. “Good Night you two!” you say laughing at yourself and switching the light off.

Thursday you only work half a day and run some errands around town. Clara and you talk on the phone that night. Planning what to do with your hair and makeup. You clean up pretty nicely but you don´t like tons of makeup on your face so you decide to keep it simple enough.

Friday comes and goes without anything worth mentioning.

On Saturday you sleep in and have a real relaxing day with a book and some Jazz music to get you in the mood for tonight. The whole week since Monday you found yourself daydreaming now and then. Remembering the last encounter with Tom. But even though he is Dylan´s Uncle you know that he will not be around often. How could he possibly? He surely has a tiring schedule and as soon as he is back filming and in “His” world again he will forget about you. You don´t think that he is smug or snobbish, quite the opposite, you haven´t seen a more down to earth and gentlemanly famous person then him…then again you never met another well-known person before. But how could you leave a lasting impression on such a man as he. That thought, you decide to cherish the brief moments you had with him and keep the memories save.

Tom on the other hand was in a mood currently. It rarely happened but sometimes even a well-behaved person like him disliked everything he was doing. The script he read was rubbish and his agent told him on the phone earlier that the next project he needed to do would probably start 2 weeks early. Tom didn´t like to cut his family time short but then again...he loved his job.

He is preparing himself a cup of tea. It´s late afternoon and he needed a break. A knock on his door sidetracks him just a little bit, but it´s enough that he accidentally touches the kettle in the wrong place. “Bollocks!” he yells and holds his index finger under the tap. “Tom?” he hears Sarah coming in. “Everything alright? I didn´t mean to intrude but I heard you yell.” Tom sighs “Yes, sorry for that. I had a mishap with the kettle.” “Oh…let me have a look.” Sarah walks over and takes his hand to examine his fingers. “Nothing major, you were lucky.” She smiles at him but soon realises that he is not quite himself today. “What´s wrong brother mine?” She ushers him to the table and prepares 2 new cups of tea.  

“Bad day sister! I know, doesn´t happen often but I am not as good a company as normally.” Sarah smiles. “That´s unfortunate. I thought you were a God and never had such mere problems as any human I know.” This comment made him smile. At least a little bit. “Mock me all you want, you may soon have to wait before you can do it in person again.” He sighs. “Good gracious Tom. You love your work. That can´t be the reason why you are wallowing in self-pity.” Sarah sits opposite of him and hands him his cup. For a minute or two they sit in silence and stir their tea.

“I have to say Hi from Dylan. He´s out playing with his Dad. He said it was, and I quote, Soooooooooooo tremendoudely awesome that you visited him to read for him and his pals.” That made Tom grin at last. “Learning the big words.” “Yes, I really can´t think of anyone other than you who would bring him to use those.” Tom looks his sister in the eyes and smiles. “I love you, you know?” “Love you too brother mine.”

After finishing their tea Sarah leans at the kitchen counter and sees a drawing. A gorilla with flowers in his big hands. “What´s that?” Tom looks like he got caught being naughty. “Nothing much…by the way have you seen Moms new gardening tools? She says she´d be 2 times faster planting the flowerbeds now.” “Nah-ahh…don´t even try to distract me.” Sarah walks over to the drawing. “This can´t be for Dylan. He doesn´t even like girly stuff.” Tom laughs “Yes, he told me the other day.”

Tom leaves the kitchen and sits down in the living room. A last attempt to distract his sister. But she wasn´t that easy to deflect. Following him she turns on the reading lamp and points it direct at his face. “Spill it brother!” It´s like being a teenager all over again and living under one roof. His nosy sister always looking out for her little brother. “I´m not 12 anymore Sarah. You won´t hear a single word out of my mouth regarding that drawing.” “Fine…” She sighs and turns off the light.

“Other topic…How about you take me out to that Jazz Club in Camden Town tonight. I haven´t been out since my dear husband went on his work trip. I could use some letting lose tonight. And frankly, you too!” Tom is looking a bit confused but nods. “Are you sure you want to spend time with me instead of your husband tonight?” “yes brother, you said you need to leave soon. So, take me out tonight and have some fun with grown-ups. I promise you, they are probably equally fun as those children you read to.” Sarah stands up and walks to the door before he can find another reason why he shouldn´t leave tonight.  “Meet me there at nine! And dress up!” The door closed with a thud.

Sighing he looked at his watch 6.30. He probably should get something to eat and then look through his closet.

“Clara be a friend and help me with the zipper. I can´t close it myself without dislocating my shoulder.” After another half an hour you are ready to go. The walk to the tube and the ride to Camden Town takes another 30 minutes. Laughing you and Clara get out of the carriage with somebody whistling your way. “Well, that’s off to a good start.” Clara laughs. You link arms with her and say “Let´s go pretty Lady. There is a Dancefloor waiting for us!”

Inside the venue its dimly lit and there is an old vibe to it. As if stepping into a Time Machine and landing in the best of times for Jazz, Swing and Bars like this. You feel good and ready to dance. The people you see are all dressed up. Looking dapper and hip. Clara finds a place to sit in the far corner of the Dance floor. A little lamp sits on the small round table which is almost completely engulfed with a leather bench.

You get rid of your jackets and purses and eye the bartender. “Doesn´t he look neat…and hot.” Clara says and grins “First drink is on me. Let´s see if I´m still able to flirt!” You shake your head laughing but are in no mood to tell her otherwise. The Music already makes your feet tap to the beat. Over at the Bar you see Clara laugh and talk to the bartender. “Seems like she still got it.” You say to yourself. 3 minutes later Clara appears with 2 tasty looking cocktails in her hand biting her lip. “He´s hot and funny… I know it is his job, but I could swear he was flirting back.” You risk a look. “Sure thing…he is watching you.” “Great. This will be a good night!” You both take a sip out of your drink and lean back. It doesn´t take long until you decide to hit the dancefloor.

It´s 15 minutes till 9. Outside the Bar Tom is waiting for his sister. He made it here in good time. Then again, he almost never arrives at the last minute. Sarah is dropped off by her husband. “Hey Tom! Take care of my girl tonight!” Tom grins. “Absolutely, I´ll make sure she gets home safe.” Sarah looks at her brother and her husband and says. “Actually…I´ve decided otherwise.” Tom looks confused. “You need to go in there, and I need to go have a Date night with my husband.”

“Sarah, that´s not funny. Ok, if you could just drop me off at home and then be on your way.” Tom said frustrated and motioned to get in the car as his brother-in-law nodded but Sarah got in his way. “No Thomas, you WILL go in there and have some fun. I happen to know that a certain Miss is inside.”

“What?” Tom asks a little voiceless and high pitched.

Sarah is already inside the car again and smiles at him. “Go, dance. Have fun and talk to her without a bunch of kids attacking you!” She motioned her husband to drive. He laughingly does as ordered and takes off.

Tom stares after the car and lets his head roll back with a deep-drawn sigh.

This couldn´t be happening. He turns, eyes the front door. Turns again, looking at the Underground station. He ruffles his hair. He must look ridiculous turning left right left right left.

Would he go in?

Should he go in?

Another quick note: If you can´t think of the dress that I tried to desribe. This would be it: 

Tags as asked for : @theoneanna @shegatsby  @wabisabigrl @everything-is-awesomesauce 

[enygma0710]

Drabble Tag Challenge

If you’re tagged on this, you’ve been challenged to write a 100 words or more drabble of Jonerys!

You then earn the right to tag 3 people on your drabble and challenge them to do it as well. Not mandatory, but this is a fun and easy way to encourage creators and spread more fan content!  

Pick from the dialogue prompts -OR- Free choice drabble.

Tagged by @thescarletgarden1990 thanks for challenging me ;-D and I am challenging @xxthewolvenstormxx  @freshhexes  and @starkgaryen4life 

If you’ve been tagged, my feelings wont be hurt if it’s ignored. So before I drop this drabble, I feel I need to give a disclaimer, LOL

Drabbles are my Kryptonite, like legit every story I write I have to build up these extensive ass backstories for the universe and the characters and how they will react to a situation and function in the universe i’m either playing in or modifying. So that being said, this drabble takes place in my unreleased, modern AU Jonerys fic; Once in a Lifetime. Thats where my mindset is right now, I wrote two others in the traditional Westeros but it just didn’t work. 2nd disclaimer; this is a really random af drabble, I write some random shit but this is more than usual. See Authors note at bottom for explanation. 

I will probably put this on A03 once I get the main fic on there, but at a much later date.  

My prompt: “ Have you lost your damn mind?” and 

“I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified” -slightly modified

Robb and Jon whooped and clapped, as they watched the larger man, dressed in bright blue spandex, swing his opponents like a rag doll as his power ball bounced off the rim, missing the basket. “I can’t believe your brother recorded these.” Robb elbowed Jon to pass the chips. Jon begrudgingly passed the bowl over to Robb.

Daenerys plopped down on the couch behind them. “Rhae loved Westerosi Gladiators growing up. My father got tired of Rhae recording over his westerns, so for his birthday he gave him a case of VHS tapes and let him go to town.” Dany reached for the bowl, snatching it away from Robb. “He recorded everything; Gladiators, Old WWF and EWF matches, cartoons, movies, music videos. He only stopped because my father refused to buy him another case of tapes.”

Jon turned away from the action of Atlasphere on the screen, to look at his friend. “These are classics, they don’t show the reruns anymore.” Robb cheered loudly, bringing Jon’s attention back to the show.

“They show them all the time in Naath,” Missy chimed in as she sat down next to Dany on the couch. “This is an early season, Storm’s not in it.”

“I like The Mountain, I heard he’s the only gladiator that no one has knocked off on ‘Human Cannonball’”

“Makes sense, you see the size of that guy?” Jon asked, as he grabbed his drink. “I like Nitro and Gemini, I wouldn’t want to go against either of them in Powerball.”

“Oh, I love Storm, Zap is my favorite.” Dany was bouncing up and down. Jon looked back and laughed at how excited she was getting. “Oh, they are about to do Joust! Watch Zap!”

They focused back on the TV and watched as the blond gladiator pummeled her opponent off her platform into the mat below. “Ohhhhhh! That was brutal, I wonder if they’ll do Hang Tough this episode.”

“You know we could do that.”

“Do what?” Jon asked.

“Hang Tough, there are rings at the playground down the street.” Robb turned to Jon. “Feel up to the challenge?”

Jon smirked, setting down his drink. “I’m game if your game, Stark.”

Robb jumped up. “Let’s go.”

Daenerys stood next to Missy, watching the two ‘brothers’ warm up before their match of makeshift Hang Tough. She left Missy walking over towards Jon, shaking her head. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

“Never knew you to be one that cursed, Dany.” Jon grinned, rolling his shoulders. Robb next to him doing push-ups.  Both of them had just gotten off punishment after pulling another stunt they tried, after watching an old EWF match. Mrs. Stark walked in on Jon and Robb doing a body slam with a stunner while Arya and Bran cheered on.

“Oh, shut it,” Dany rolled her eyes. “You two are bigger idiots than I thought, the only idiot missing is Theon.”

“You rang?” Theon sauntered over, giving Robb a high five.

“Oh Gods,” Missy muttered.

Theon grinned, “I stopped by and Sansa told me, you guys were here, but for what? I thought we were watching Gladiators.”

“I challenged Jon to Hang Tough.”

“Snow?” Theon’s face split into a shit eating grin, clapping his hands. “Oh, this I got to see.”

Jon and Robb stood at opposite sides of the small ring course.

“Ready, set, GO!”

Robb and Jon launched themselves onto the rings, swinging towards each other. Jon was the quickest and met Robb first. They both started kicking at each other, laughing trying to knock the other off the rings. Dany watched with some trepidation as the brothers tried to take the other down.  Theon kept jumping up and down egging Robb on to take Jon down and would switch when Jon got the advantage, causing Robb to yell “Who’s friend are you?”. Missy stood behind Dany, alternating between cheering on Jon and muttering “Gods this is stupid”. Daenerys kept silent and didn’t cheer on either but was the first to notice the gleam in Robbs eye change from determined to mischievous. Robb kicked away from Jon, swinging his legs behind him, gaining fast momentum and before Jon could react, Robb swung his leg forward, wrapping his legs around Jon’s waist, simultaneously letting go of his rings. The force of Robb colliding with Jon, ripped the rings from Jon’s grip sending them both hurtling towards the ground and landing with a crash.

“Oh SHITE!!!” Dany yelled as they hit the ground, she ran over to the tangled limbs of Robb and Jon.

Robb’s eyes were closed, he winced holding his head. “Oh Gods,”

“Are you alright?”

“Told you this was stupid.”

Robb nodded and tried to move but Jon was sprawled on top of his legs.

“Jon?”

Jon didn’t answer, his arm laid at an odd angle.

“Oh, shite did you break it.”

“I don’t think so.”

Jon tried to push himself up but faltered, landing hard on Robbs legs, “Shite.”

“It’s dislocated,” Dany stated as she squatted down next to Jon.

“How the hell do you know this?”

“My Father has a bad shoulder, it dislocates occasionally. It needs to be reset Jon.”

Jon gingerly rolled off Robbs legs. “No, I’ll be fine.” He used his good arm to stand up.

“That fall did more than dislocate your shoulder, it rattled your brain as well. Let me reset it.”

“Can’t you bang it against the wall or something?”

“No, Theon and shut up, Jon I can set it for you.”

“No,” Jon winced. “I’ll just ask Uncle Benjen, he’s visiting today, he’ll know what to do.”

“No,” Robb rasped as he stood up and limped. “You know Father is out of town and if he finds out we got injured from rough housing again- “

“We’re Fucked.”

Jon turned hesitantly towards Dany, his shoulder was throbbing and his fingers were growing numb.

“Do you trust me?”

He locked his gaze on hers and saw the determination and resolve reflected in them. He nodded. Dany tightly gripped his right hand with her left and placed her right hand over his right shoulder. “Its going to hurt but only for a minute, ready?”

“Just do it.” He gritted out.

“On the count of three, one-two-three,” Dany swiftly jerked his arm up and towards her, Jon yelled over the audible pop of his shoulder going back in its socket. He was sore, his fingers were still numb but she was right the pain was brief. “Thanks.” He panted.

Daenerys let go of his hand, giving a shiny grin. “Anytime Snow.”

Later, they found themselves slowing making their way back towards the Starks residence. In front of them, Theon was helping a limping Robb. Daenerys and Missy walking beside him. “Well we’ll see you guys later.”

“You aren’t coming with us? What about the tapes?”

“No, I’m going to walk Missy home and Rhae won’t mind.” Daenerys smiled and reached over, chuffing him on the side of his head.

“What was that for?” Jon winced.

“That’s for not listening to me and being an idiot.” She smirked, her lavender eyes bright. “Bye Snow,” she waved and turned away from him, walking towards Missy.

Jon stood on the sidewalk, quietly observing Dany and Missy. A warm, tingling sensation clawing at his chest,  

“Oi, you alright?” Theon voice snapped Jon from his thoughts.

The smile gone and replaced with a scowl. No, I don’t think so, far from it.

Theon and Robb, now stood beside him. Both looking back and forth between Jon and the duo walking away.

“Why do you look like you swallowed a bit of bitter?”

What the hell is wrong with me? “Nothing, just worried about getting caught by your Mother.”

Theon nodded in understanding, but Robb just stared, giving a disbelieving look. Jon cough, rubbing his neck. “Let’s just get home and come up with a story that won’t get us both grounded for a week.”

The boys continued on their way, devising a story to keep the suspicion low on their injuries. As for Jon his thoughts drifted off, away from the Theon and Robb, but to his silver hair friend and the curious new feeling she caused, Shite I think I’m in love and I’m terrified.

Author Notes: So this drabble is damn near a one-shot. I tend to write alot, LOL. I got inspiration while cleaning and came across several episodes we recorded as kids of Double Dare, GUTS, Legends of the Hidden Temple and American Gladiators. Hooked up probably the last working VCR and watched for nostalgia. So that’s how American Gladiators came to Westeros LOL

[winterromanov]

on wednesdays we wear pink / twissy fic

or, the four times missy was incredibly extra, and the one time she sort-of wasn’t.

-one

It takes Bill a maximum of three meetings to realise that Missy is about the most extra person she’s ever met.

“You have a room,” Bill says, eyes narrowed, “Just for hats?”

Missy looks at her like she’s simple. “Where else would I put them?”

“Um, I don’t know, maybe in a box? At the top of a wardrobe? Like a normal person?”

“I’m not a normal person,” Missy titters irritably, “I’m a Time Lady. And this Time Lady wants a room for her hats, and does not care for idiotic little humans judging her choices.”

Bill rolls her eyes at the back of Missy’s head, which she can just about see over the top of the boxes thrown at her the moment she’d walked in the TARDIS control room. A small mint green one that couldn’t possibly fit a full-sized hat sits precariously on the top. She has to walk very carefully to avoid it clattering noisily onto the floor, earning another signature death glare from Missy herself.

They stop at a locked door on the corridor and Missy pauses, reaches into her cleavage, uncovers a long brass key with a suggestive red-lipstick smirk.

Bill’s lips trip over themselves as she tries to form a somewhat coherent response, shaking her head. “You—is that really necessary? Can’t you get a keyring? Or a handbag?”

Missy pouts. Pushes her boobs up outside her blouse with her hands, the material bunching, fluttering her eyelashes. Bill throws her the dirtiest look she can muster, which kind of comes across as mildly constipated in reality. “Oh, sorry, have I got you all flustered? Bless. I forgot humans couldn’t control their sexual urges around those they find irresistibly attractive.”

“Ew!” Bill gasps, affronted. The mint green box tumbles from her grip and Missy catches it in one hand, running her tongue over her teeth. “I am not… Oh, I really don’t like you.”

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t like me,” Missy says, slotting the key into the lock. She turns it in one swift motion, the door unsealing itself. “Because at present, I already have one very satisfied customer.”

Bill frowns. “I think you’ll find that Nardole isn’t exactly your number one fan, either.”

“Not the egg, you imbecile!” Missy hisses, gesturing wildly with one hand, “You know exactly who I mean. It begins with a D and ends with a…octor. Has two hearts, grey hair, screams like a little girl when he—“

Oh, that’s quite enough. Bill shudders dramatically, almost dropping all the boxes onto the floor and debates running off to the bathroom to violently throw up. No, no, this is just—she is not… “Oh my god. Oh my god. Please. No. Do not ever…”

Missy’s bottom lip juts out condescendingly. She reaches out and taps Bill’s cheek gently, her rings cool and metallic against Bill’s skin. “Mummy and daddy do it too, you know.”

Bill completely blanches and Missy laughs, grabbing one of the boxes off Bill’s pile. She tries to think of anything, literally anything, other than the Doctor and Missy shagging—she feels more violated than the time she caught Moira tugging off Greg (or was it Paul?) on the living room sofa last year. She’s never been able to look at those brown couch cushions the same way since.

She desperately tries to back track. Takes a deep breath. It’s just a Missy thing; Bill’s certain she’s made it one of her sole missions in life to make her as uncomfortable as possible. “Okay. Fine. Whatever. I’m just going to pretend that this conversation never happened.”

Missy shrugs. Blinks innocently. “If that makes you feel better.”

“Yes, it does,” Bill interrupts before she can add anything else, “And I’ve got stuff to do, so please just open the door and we can both get on with our lives.”

-x-

-two

The bus she takes to the university is nearly always late, so Bill pops her headphones in her ears and slumps against the Perspex of the shelter, humming along to Taylor Swift’s latest track and reading an advert for a new brand of deodorant. The sun reflects off her new white Doc Martens. She smiles fondly. The Doctor helped her choose them—he was actually surprisingly useful when it came to fashion advice.

The tranquillity is ruined, however, when a black vintage convertible pulls up right in front of her. The Doctor is sat in the driver’s seat, Missy riding shotgun. Both of them are wearing Ray-Bans. Bill’s jaw drops open, tugs her headphones out her ears, wonders if she’s trapped in one of those odd, surreal dreams she’s been having lately.

“Get in loser,” Missy drawls in a fake American accent, dropping her sunglasses down her nose, “We’re going shopping.”

The Doctor turns to face her. “Have you been watching Mean Girls again?”

“Yes,” Missy says, with enthusiasm, “It’s a modern masterpiece.”

“You’re not wrong, but this is getting ridiculous. How many times have you seen it now?”

Missy shrugs, examining her cuticles. She’s painted them a deep, dark shade of blue other than her left ring finger, which is exclusively silver. “Not more times than you’ve read A Christmas Carol.”

“But that’s… That’s Charles Dickens. I’ve met Charles Dickens.”

“Now,” Missy points a finger in his direction, “That is culture snobbery, and I will not stand for it.”

The argument looks as though it’s about to get heated, so Bill takes it upon herself to intervene and sidles up to the Doctor’s side of the car. According to the dashboard—there’s definitely been some tinkering there, Bill can’t remember satnavs being standard in vintage vehicles—they’ve been listening to an Ed Sheeran album called a2 + b2 = c2, which she’s pretty sure isn’t out yet, unless she’s missed something.

“What’s going on?” Bill asks, folding her arms, “Since when have you owned a car?”

The Doctor scoffs loudly, one hand clutched round the steering wheel, the other draped across the car door. “You accept the fact that I own a time machine, but a car has you confused?”

Missy flicks open a small silver cigarette case and places one between her lips, looking expectantly over at the Doctor. He sighs, reaches into his jacket pocket, brings out a little box of old fashioned matches and quickly lights it for her. She takes a long, luxurious drag; the smoke is decadently beautiful, hanging in the air, trailing back into the wind. All she’s missing is a ridiculous headscarf and she’s walked out of one of those black-and-white movies Bill watches absent-mindedly on the drama channel.

“You should have seen his last motor,” Missy burrs, blowing a perfect ring of smoke into the air, “Might as well have had I’m an obnoxious badly-dressed alien with an intense fetish for human culture written all over it.”

“Bessie was loyal. Much more loyal than you ever were,” the Doctor says, “And if your DVD collection is anything to go by, you can hardly chastise me for having a liking of human culture.”

Missy rolls her shoulders non-committally and throws the remainders of her cigarette overboard, landing unceremoniously in a puddle. “We could have this argument all day, my dear, but you were the one who said they had more important things to do.”

“I do,” the Doctor turns his attention back to Bill, “I just wanted to remind you about that essay I set you on the origins of supernovae. Its due tomorrow evening.”

“I know that,” Bill mutters, wondering why he’s made the effort to find her at a bus stop just to tell her that. She’s always on time with deadlines, unless an inconvenient invasion by malevolent monks gets in the way. “You could have just text me, you know.”

Missy snorts a laugh under her breath. The Doctor’s face curls into a bit of a grimace, looking down at his lap. Bill blinks back, clueless.

“What?” Bill asks, “What’s happened to your phone? You didn’t drop it into a blackhole again, did you?”

“No, no,” the Doctor reassures, “I’ve just… temporarily dislocated it.”

Missy leans over. Presses a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. “He got quite annoyed with it. Apparently he doesn’t like it when I prank call the Pope pretending to be the Guardian of Hell.”

“The Vatican get very sensitive over claims like that!” he hisses, pushing her back into her seat. Bill wonders just how she managed to get entangled in this very weird web of Time Lord panic. “Anyway. Bill. I’ll see you later.”

The car judders loudly as the Doctor applies his foot to the accelerator and changes gear. Missy elegantly pushes her sunglasses back up her nose and leans back in the leather seat, applying another coat of dark red lipstick in the rear view mirror. She pops her lips and pouts, clearly pleased with her appearance. Bill is about to call out but before the words even have chance to leave her mouth, the convertible is speeding off, leaving her standing in its wake.

“On Wednesdays we wear pink!” Missy yells out loudly, her American accented voice just audible over the top of the car engine. Her laugh somehow carries all the way down the road, despite the car a spot in the distance now. Bill sighs tetchily. She’s never going to truly understand anything about Missy, is she?

-x-

-three

The TARDIS control room is a metallic mess of tools and wiring, glass platforms thrown up exposing bare circuit boards underneath and a spattering of bolts crunching under Bill’s trainers. She sits lazily in an armchair, hydro-spanner in one hand and a mug of tea in the other, essentially at the Doctor’s beck and call. Maintenance days were slow days. That being said, there is something remarkable in seeing how everything works beneath the surface. She leans over, looking down the stairs, where the Doctor is hunched over what looks like a large computer screen with his jacket rolled up to his elbows.

“What are you doing now?” she calls out, “I did computer science at school. I could help.”

The Doctor runs a hand through his hair, tilts the screen, his head along with it. “Thanks, but it’s not that sort of computer.”

“Oh,” Bill hums, takes another sip of tea. The TARDIS groans, shifts, and Bill wonders if this is the time machine equivalent of going to the dentist. “Right.”

Her attention is diverted when she hears a vague shuffling from the other side of the control room and a soft patter of footsteps. The Doctor gently drops the scanner onto the floor, brows furrowed. “Missy?”

A moment later, she enters, dressed only in a black bikini and a welding mask. A pair of flip-flops hang loosely off her feet and she’s carrying a blowtorch in one hand and a tool kit in the other.

At this point, Bill has run out of reactions. There is literally nothing more Missy could do to surprise her. She could ride naked on the back of a giant space toad through the TARDIS corridors and she probably wouldn’t even bat an eyelid.

Missy lifts the welding mask up and wipes a bead of sweat off her forehead. The Doctor stares at her expectantly, arms folded, waiting for whatever she’s about to throw him. “My hydro-spanner is broken. Can I borrow yours?”

The Doctor shakes his head, clearly deciding not to comment on her get-up. He flicks his arm airily in Bill’s direction. Returns to work. “Bill has it.”

Missy huffs, dropping the blowtorch and the toolbox onto the floor. She pads across the control room, shoving the Doctor pointedly with her shoulder as she passes, extends her arm out to Bill. Her fingers flex keenly. Bill is about to drop it into her palm, but retracts more out of curiosity than anything else.

“What’s with the bikini?” Bill squints, “I thought you were doing repairs.”

“I am doing repairs,” Missy grits her teeth. Pings her bikini straps with her forefingers. “But it does get quite toasty down by the Eye of Harmony, so I thought I’d try and catch a tan whilst I’m at it. Now. Hydro-spanner. Gimme.”

“You’ll not get a tan down there,” the Doctor calls out, “You’ll go crispy. And remember what happened the last time you got crispy—“

Missy rolls her eyes so forcefully it could hit a high number on the Richter scale. “Shut up. I’ll stop before I turn into bacon. I just want a nice, bronzed glow for when you take me to the Maldives.”

“What—we aren’t going to the Maldives.”

Missy tuts, grabs the spanner off Bill while she’s distracted. “And you’d think I couldn’t drop a more obvious hint.”

Bill watches as Missy trots back down the stairs and hovers over the Doctor’s shoulder, murmuring something she can’t hear from such a distance, even if she strains her ears. He laughs, and she laughs back, and their faces are so close it’s like their noses are almost touching—before the Doctor reaches out and pulls her welding mask back down over her face. Missy plants both her hands on his shoulders and pushes him playfully before turning around, picking up her tools, heading back into the corridors.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re both checking out my arse,” she shouts, her voice echoing round the control room. Bill glances over to the Doctor, who is about as red as she is. She sinks back into the armchair, sips her tea, and tries her best to forget that ever happened.

-x-

-four

The makeup and beauty floor of John Lewis is absolutely packed. Bill desperately elbows her way through crowds of smart, intimidatingly beautiful women in tight suits with perfect hair, each spraying her with another intoxicating burst of expensive perfume and urging for her to try a sample. She kindly declines, eyes scanning the crowd, eventually spotting the Doctor thumbing tiny little bottles of Prada whilst a puzzled shop assistant looks on.

“Hey,” she breathes, nudging him with her shoulder. “Got your message. What’s the occasion?”

“Missy’s birthday,” he states plainly, “She mentioned she wanted perfume.”

“Birthday?” Bill queries. She sniffs a liquid in a lilac coloured bottle and for some reason, it reminds her of Heather, but she associates all nice things with Heather so that isn’t such a big surprise. “Didn’t realise you lot had birthdays.”

“Well that’s ridiculously presumptive. A hallmark of your species. Of course we have birthdays. How else would we know how old we were?”

“I didn’t think you did,” Bill shrugs, unfazed. She’s never actually found out either of their exact ages. She assumes it’s a figure around two thousand. “Do you buy her a present every year?”

The Doctor wavers, looking down at his feet. A question he does not want to answer. “Not every year. We’ve—we’ve been estranged for quite a while. I like to make the effort if she’s around.”

There are hundreds of layers to that statement that Bill can never hope to understand so she smiles, picks up another bottle, admires the pretty pastel-coloured packaging. It’s no secret that she’s scared of Missy and the things she’s done, but she can’t ignore how important she is to the Doctor. You will do anything for those you love and care for. Even if those you love and care for throw little girls into volcanoes.

The Doctor strolls away from the Prada counter and over to the Dior one, where a middle-aged woman with a tight-bun and fake-tanned skin tries to talk to him, but the Doctor simply raises a hand and looks around himself. Bill smiles apologetically—she’ll have the manners chat with him again at some point.

“Do you know what sort of scents she likes?” Bill offers, trying to help. “Is it fruity, or musky, or…”

“Flowery, I think,” the Doctor edges in quickly, too quickly, Bill stunned at just how sure he is. He coughs, tugs at his earlobe. “She always smells like flowers.”

She’s about to guide him over to the Estee Lauder counter, because they do this gorgeous one she bought for Moira on her last birthday, all dark and purple and Missy’s aesthetic down to an absolute T. But her phone buzzes in her pocket so she slides her hand into the back of her jeans, breezes over a notification.

A text from an unknown number.

Tell him I like Chanel. Noir, if they have it. And for God’s sake, don’t let him anywhere near Lush. All the smells and colours confuse him. I don’t need any more bathbombs.

Bill holds a gasp at the audacity of it, but isn’t remotely surprised. Of course she’d have her number. She glances over at the Doctor, still studying a display carefully, before tapping out a response.

This is supposed to be a surprise.

A few seconds later: I promise to look very surprised when I open it.

Bill snorts a laugh. Stuffs her phone back in her pocket and wanders back over to where the Doctor is standing. “I was thinking… maybe Chanel?”

-x-

-five

His eyes flicker over her figure as she sits at the dressing table, pulling pins out her hair and dropping them with a small porcelain clink into a white dish. Her hair hangs loose, long and dark and unbelievable, and he feels the sudden urge to run his fingers through it. Instead he sits, waits. The silk throw hung over the side of the bed feels smooth beneath his fingers. She’s humming something softly to herself, eerie and oddly familiar, but he’s unable to put his finger on it.

He exhales a long breath, like he’s about to say something, but loses the bottle. Missy stares at him in the reflection of the mirror, blue eyes unusually soft. “Something on your mind?”

“No, not…” he trails off again. Stands, walks so he’s directly behind her, strokes a stray strand of hair away from the nape of her neck. “I like it when it’s like this. When it’s just us.”

“It is you who insists on having your little pets cluttering up the place,” Missy raises an eyebrow. Her arm snakes round her shoulders until she clutches at his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. “But I do too.”

“It’s not that I don’t… I love having Bill around. She’s clever and funny, can be around you for two minutes without trying to kill you.” She smirks at that, oddly pleased. “But you’re you.”

“Ah, very specific, my dear. I know exactly what you mean.”

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss on the top of her head. He doesn’t see the way her eyelids flutter closed. “We’ve spent so many years at each other’s throats. I hate you or you hate me, or we both hate each other, and… you know, don’t you?”

She brings his hand to her lips. Kisses the pads of his fingers, finishing at his wrist. Oh, she knows. She’s known since they first caught eyes, aged eight, standing in the entrance of the Academy with just a suitcase and two breaking hearts to keep them company. Two thousand years. Every single second leading up to now. Oh—they’re too chaotic for it to ever stay this simple, but this one moment is good enough for now.

“I know,” she says gently. “My darling Doctor. Whatever shall I do with you?”

“Come to bed?” he says, one eyebrow arched, and Missy laughs. “What?”

“It’s not usually you who has to do the asking,” Missy stands, coyly sheds her dressing gown, silk pooling at her feet. She turns and he blinks slowly, pushes him over to the bed, kisses him with her hand gripping the hair on his neck. His fingers tug at her bra strap greedily.

“Oh, come on,” Missy says, “Let’s give the pet something she can really squirm about.”

She throws his trousers across the room, and her bra along with it.