#that ive been meaning to get more organized AND scanned since its just. so much theres no real way i could take all of it

[motherforthefamicom]

finally got the new desk set up in my room and cleaned out my dresser nd closet (had barely touched anything in there for Literal Years cuz of how much of a mess they were). feels surreal

[tauforged]

#1: I love finding someone with a unique/rare ship or headcannon.

#2: the interaction with Sigma and Sombra, where Sigma is saying Moira is going to run some tests on him, how do you think Ramattra would respond to hearing that?

#3 do they have any nick names for each other?

AW TEEHEE THANKYOU!!! its been a while since ive had the motivation to like, draw or write anything for em but rest assured im thinking about them so so so much... youve activated my autism trap card though i have an INSANE amount of convoluted opinions on the nature of character dynamics between sigma and sombra as well as sigma and moira and im taking this opportunity to babble about it. sorry in advance.

as for the interaction, personally im of the opinion that said 'tests' are literallly.... just tests. as in like, yknow, bloodwork, scans to make sure the implants and augments he has are actually working to redirect excess pressure and kinetic energy from his vital organs when using his abilities ... ive talked about how i think that sorta stuff works more in this post but tldr is that a lot of the tech and equipment hes using is of his own design and VERY experimental, hes pretty much flying blind here so he kind of has to make changes as he goes and so it's kinda important that his health and safety are taken into account. and he also has a bit of a uhhh. demonstrable history of disregarding his own safety for the sake of his research. it would kind of make sense that theyd be going out of their way to make sure someone stays on him about actually doing the damn tests and keeping track of the results. it just so happens that he's really averse to letting just anyone Examine (tm) him because of. yknow. the everything. and moira happens to fit the bill of being A. someone he feels he can trust to not take things too far (whether or not he's making a good choice here is up for debate, but i think he could do worse) and B. actually have a degree of knowing what she's doing. i definitely think that the only reason she's bothering at least initially is her own curiosity about everything he's got going on, but he also does just really feel like the type to jsut kind of naturally be very endearing . ive said before that a lot of their interactions read as playful to me, at least on his end - he DEFINITELY sounds like he's messing with her on purpose. i think he does genuinely regard her as a friend, and for the most part, he's probably right - even if she's a bit cranky about it. i have a LOT of thoughts about their relationship too honestly probably far too many to cram into this one post LMFAO i think about the dynamic a lot. im a moira apologist idc i think that she is capable of being nice sometimes. just because shes kind of a cunt sometimes doesnt mean shes needlessly cruel, like not only do i feel like messing with his head and experimenting on him given his history would be kinda kicking him while he's down. but ALSO, i feel like she's smart enough to know that making him an enemy would be a baaaad idea. he can literally explode people with his mind. she knows better than to give him any reason to be genuinely mad at her, and i do think he would absolutely NOT tolerate any kind of treatment like that ever again unless it was on his terms and he had the power to just leave if it got to be too much. even as it is, i think the entire process is a bit of a sore spot for him and not exactly something he's thrilled about, hence his hesitation in that interaction - not because it's happening against his will so much as he's regarding it the same way i think about having to go get blood drawn. it's not fun, but it's gotta happen somehow.

all that to say, i think upon overhearing discussion of said 'tests' without further context mattra would NOT be happy about it, likely getting defensive the same way sombra does. he'd probably be a lot harder to dissuade than she is tbh, i dont know if he'd really take moira's word for it that there's nothing underhanded going on here unless sig told him so himself, and even then it would still put his hackles up. he's probably very nosy about it for a very long time. just to be safe.

as far as nicknames/pet names go, in my mind theyre both very... awkward about these kinda things i guess if that makes sense? emotional vulnerability comes easily for NEITHER of them, between sig still recovering from decades of isolation and mattra just naturally being very guarded and bitter (for good reason!) and not used to outwardly expressing his care for others, especially not for some random human who seems to have decided that they're friends. to me, their dynamic is very much one of tentativeness and battling with distrust and insecurity. i think it would take a very, very long time to get there, and even longer to actually be able to casually say stuff like that without wanting to explode and die on the spot. i do think sig is a bit more outwardly affectionate than mattra, but even then, a lot of it is kinda tempered by the fact that he's just very forward with everyone about everything at this point - he's kind of desperate for positive connections with others that he can hold onto, so he's reached a point where it doesn't take much to get him to consider someone a friend and he's not exactly hiding it anymore. oh, i dropped something and you picked it up before i had a chance to? sick, we are now besties and i would kill for you.

i think that sort of attitude would catch ramattra off guard and he'd not really know how to react to any of it. sig could call him anything at this point, but if it's in an affectionate tone he WILL bluescreen about it. ramattra.exe has encountered an error and must restart

i do really like sig's valentines voiceline, so i might just roll with 'starlight' even if it's a bit cheesy... hell, now that i think about it, i think he'd do that specifically BECAUSE it's cheesy and will probably elicit an eye-roll or a 'stop that'. he seems to enjoy pushing people's buttons. maybe bothering his friends is his love language idk

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 49)

Description: Tahira continues to fight her way out of her own head. 

Tagging: @endlesshero1122 @mysteli @feartheendlesssummer @whatmcsaid @xo-endlessmayhem-xo @tigerbryn11

Chapter 49 : A Breath of Water

Grayson

I hold Tahira's hand while the nurse slips the IV needle into her vein, even though she probably can't even feel the prick. She doesn't move at all. Not even a twitch.

The first scan they did of her brain revealed that the blood flow was normal. But there was no explanation as to why she hasn't woken up yet. I don't know whether that surprises me or not. If it really was something on the knife, some kind of poison, is that ever going to show up on a brain scan? Either way, they've decided to do another scan. One that's supposed to measure her brain activity. PET scan, I think. They say they can use it to accurately predict which coma patients are likely to wake up.

I squeeze Tahira's hand, kissing her fingers. She looks so perfect, lying in her hospital bed with her dark hair spread over the pillow, smooth and silky thanks to her mother's careful brushing thirty minutes ago. Except for the tubes and hoses, she looks like she's sleeping.

“My sleeping beauty,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “...I wish you would wake up...”

The nurse puts a hand on my shoulder. “Come on. We gotta leave her alone for awhile so the tracer can go through her system. It's better if she doesn't have any stimulation while that's happening.”

“...You think me being here actually stimulates anything?”

“In the best case scenario, it absolutely does. And since that's what we're hoping for, that's the assumption I'm acting on.”

Tahira

I'm not tired as I climb the path up the mountain, and that still startles me every time I realize it. ...Can I even be startled in this space? I reach what appears to be the top of the mountain, and I am standing on a small circle of rock barely large enough for both my feet that pokes up like an island through an ocean of soft, white clouds. The clouds look soft and fluffy, like piles of cotton balls. I want to dive into them and feel their softness against my skin—even though I know from personal experience that I'll probably just get wet. And possibly fall to my death, since I can't fly in this space. But...maybe I can't die in this space, either. And, I'm here now, standing on a tiny space on top of a mountain. What exactly am I supposed to do now?

Before I can really stop myself, I have taken the step off the edge. I plunge through fluffy, cottony sea foam into a warm ocean. I breathe saltwater and it feels as easy as breathing air. I hear a voice call my name. A sexless voice that comes through the waves and sounds like music. I swim toward it, gliding as easily as I fly through the air in the real world. Something that looks like the sun glimmers overhead, making the water around me shine. Ahead, something waits for me in the water. The rippling waves distort its shape, but the color of it is overwhelmingly red.

I think in the back of my mind, I know what's there even before I get close enough to actually see. Sure enough, as I approach, the thing takes on a human shape. Two legs, two arms, and a head—all concealed within a red spacesuit. ...I've never met the Endless before. But I know who she is.

“...Endless. Are you here to show me how I can wake up and help Alodia? Help...a version of you?”

“I am here to help. But I warn you that I cannot help the way you want me to. I am forever bound by the laws that govern the physical flow of time. If I break them, I will do more harm than good.”

“I'm in no position to turn down help.”

“Then follow me.”

Rochelle

“What exactly are you trying to tell me, doctor?”

They've called in a neurologist to assess Tahira. She's had at least two scans to determine why she isn't waking up. So far, though, the man seems to have taken a lot of words to say not very much at all.

“What I am trying to tell you, Ms. Rogers, is that there is no reason to despair. Your daughter's brain is active. Very active. In all the right ways. Coma patients with similar levels of brain activity recover consciousness within a year more than eighty percent of the time.”

I fold my arms. “...Are you saying that my daughter is in a coma?”

The doctor hesitates. “She does exhibit many symptoms consistent with a coma diagnosis. However, there are no obvious organic causes. And...” He leans over Tahira and lifts her eyelid slowly to shine his light pen at her pupil. “Her light reflexes are normal. When I lift her eyelid, she resists. And when I release it, her eye closes completely and quickly.”

“So...what does that mean?”

“My assessment is that it is most likely a psychogenic coma. That is, a temporary period of disassociation, possibly caused by psychological trauma related to the attack.”

“...'Temporary'...”

“Yes. Most of the time patients wake up fairly promptly after general anesthesia is stopped. Often when they fail to wake up, it's due to residual effects from the drugs. Sometimes, it's neurological or metabolic. And sometimes, it's psychological. Tahira is neurologically intact, and her bloodwork is all clear.”

“So...what do we do?”

“We wait. Keep assessing her regularly, wait for a change. Right now, there is little else we can do.”    

Jake

“Lundgren wasn't where we left him. The prevailing theory is that one of his goons found him and got it out, but there's not much of a trail if that's the case. It's...not looking like Alodia and Diego are on the island, either. They've got the coast guard circling, though, in case anything tries to land there. The Vaanti are still lying low for the most part, but Seraxa has a few warriors combing the jungle. I don't know if they can hide themselves like they used to when Vaanu's crystals were still part of the island, but Seraxa seems to think it's an acceptable risk.”

I can't look at Sean as he talks. I stare out the window of my hospital room. The view overlooks the hospital grounds, with the Santo Domingo skyline on the horizon. He seems to be waiting for an answer, but when I don't give him one after a moment or two, he goes on.

“Zahra and Iris have been analyzing the recording from that AI. Iris was able to confirm that the voice print was Alodia's. But most of it was spliced together from recorded voice samples. Like...the time lady that you used to be able to call.”

“'Most of it'...”

“...Huh?”

I keep my eyes on a not-particularly-interesting office building in the distance. “You said 'most of it' was spliced. ...I have a guess where it wasn't.”

Sean hesitates just long enough to confirm that I'm right even before he says, “...Yeah.”

“So where did that part come from?”

“Zahra says she doesn't know that yet. The parts where...Galatea...broke character...those were whole samples, not splices. Iris can figure out that much. But where and when they were recorded? That's gonna take longer to figure out.”

Now I turn to look at him. “What kinda time do you think we have, Sean? She could give birth any day. If Rourke gets his hands on our kid...”

“I know, buddy. I know.”

“...I wanna be there. I wanna be there when my daughter is born.”

He doesn't say anything. What the hell can he say to that? Everyone I know is gonna do everything in their power to get my wife back to me ASAP. Doesn't mean I can rest easy. Not until she's back in my arms.

“...Do you know when you're getting out of here?”

“A day or two. They want to keep me for observation awhile. ...Then I guess I oughta go back to California. ...Or stay here and look after Mike. Don't wanna leave him alone here. ...Don't suppose you two are continuing the honeymoon where you left off.”

“With Alodia and Diego still missing? Of course not. Michelle wants to go back to work early.”

I snort, a rueful, mirthless laugh. “Tell her it's outta the question. She just went through a kidnapping for fuck's sake.”

“You're suggesting I try to tell Michelle what to do?”

“Okay, yeah. I see how that's a bad idea.”

“...She needs to feel useful. And...truthfully right now, it may be that the best way she can help us get Alodia and Diego back is by being at work.”

I feel the frown settle onto my mouth and forehead as I stare at him. “...You don't just say a thing like that without having something to back it up.”

“Tahira was attacked. About the same time as all of us were abducted. She had emergency surgery, but she hasn't woken up yet. ...Before she went under, she managed to get across that the one who attacked her was a Vaanti.”

Caleb

It's probably stupid as hell for me to keep coming back to the compound where Tahira and I were once prisoners. The cops are probably still looking for me, and the compound being the site of a stabbing, they probably aren't far off. Though, truth be told, I'm not sure if they've actually managed to figure out where she was actually stabbed.

Thing is, I find myself wanting answers. I want to know who decided to stick a maybe-poisoned knife in Tahira. I got a nagging feeling whoever it was knows her identity. In the dark, with a flame dancing on my fingertips to light my way, I follow the spotty trail of dried blood from inside the compound to the alley where the initial splatter seems to be and stare at the stain on the filthy concrete.

Avanti...who the hell is Avanti? Sounds like some pop diva wannabe. I'd say a pop diva wasn't capable of leaving this kind of mess in an alley, but I'm old enough to remember Haley Rose.

“You're not going to be able to hide forever.” The taunting purr is unmistakably Gigi. I grit my teeth, but I don't turn to face her right away. “You have to realize that sooner or later, the cops are going to find you.”

Don't ask me why this is the straw that breaks the camel's back. But whatever the reason, I can't take it anymore. I whip around and lunge at Gigi, grabbing her by the throat and shoving her against the wall, a fireball in my free hand poised threateningly over her. The dancing orange light reflects genuine fear in her eyes as she grasps my wrist in both hands. At the moment, I'm too pissed to enjoy it.

“I've had e-fucking-nough of your bullshit, Gi,” I snarl. “You can threaten me with your child army or the cops all you fucking want, because right now, all your underworld power and influence, all your loyal followers all mean jackshit compared to my hand on your throat and this fireball over your head, so start fucking talking, bitch!”

Her eyes flick from my face to the flames licking my hand and back again. I feel her squirm, but I've got her pushed high enough that her toes barely touch the concrete.

“What—should I talk—about?” she finally gasps. I pull back just enough to give her a little more air.

“What do you know about what happened here?!”

She smirks, even as I feel her hands trembling on my wrist. “I know Dragonness can bleed.”

So she does know Tahira's identity. I tighten my grip again, bringing the flames a little closer to her skin. They lick upward enough that I am not worried about causing any damage I don't intend, but I see the sweat blooming on her forehead. I press my face in closer.

“...Who's Avanti?”

Her eyes widen. “...What?”

“Avanti. Is she one of yours? Someone new?”

“...Where...did you...hear that?”

“Tahira said it was Avanti who stabbed her! Who is that?!”

“...So. …The plot...thickens...”

I shake her, hard enough that she lets out a strangled yelp. “I told you to talk, bitch!”

“Avanti isn't a name!” she shrieks breathlessly, struggling against my grip. “It's...not...coincidence!”

“What's not?!”

“Any of it! Same day Dragonness is attacked, Alodia Chandler is abducted, and Silas Prescott escapes!”

“Yeah, that doesn't seem like coincidence. So what do you know about it?”

“Barely more than you, I would wager,” she croaks against another increase in pressure from my hand. “...But I know that Avanti is not a name. It's a thing. A creature. From La Huerta.”

“...What kind of creature?”

I feel a hand come down on my shoulder, gently but firmly. I spare a glance, and the hand on my shoulder shines golden brown in the light from my flame.

“That's enough, Caleb,” Talos murmurs. “Let her go.”

“Fuck that! Not until she tells me what she knows!”

“There's nothing she could tell you right now that I couldn't also tell you.”

I sneer, tightening my grip. “What about her plot to steal the Prism Crystal?”

“It clearly hasn't been set in motion yet, since the Prism Crystal is secure. And trying to get the plan out of her is likely going to prove an exercise in futility. There are more important things to worry about at the moment.”

I want to argue, how the fuck is the Prism Crystal not important? ...But it's not. Not when compared to finding Tahira's attacker. I slowly release Gigi and let the flame on my hand go out. Gigi staggers back from me, coughing and rubbing her throat. I can see I've left marks. She's not gonna forgive me for that. But right at this moment, she's looking at me with genuine fear and I can finally feel a twinge of satisfaction for it. Of course, she does her best to disguise it as quick as she can.

“Looks like I've got my own knight in shining armor,” she sneers, her voice hoarse. “Too bad he appears to be running with a traitor.”

“You should be the one running, Gi,” I snarl. “Before I change my mind about letting you go.” As I summon flames to my palms for emphasis, her eyes widen. She closes her mouth and slinks into the shadows without another word. I let the flames die and lower my hands, turning to glare at Talos. He sighs.

“Don't give me that look. Interrogating her would have cost us time we don't have.”

“You can't know that she isn't involved!” I growl.

“Of course she's involved. Even if it's indirectly. She was on La Huerta at the same time as Alodia. But look me in the eye and tell me that you think she would give up any information in a timely manner?”

“I could have burned it out of her,” I mutter.

“Torture is unreliable,” he replies simply. “...The Prism Crystal is secure. You can take my word on that.”

“Why should I?” I'm just being stubborn at this point. I don't know why the hell Talos would lie about that.

“...Because if it's lost, I lose my source of liquid prism. And liquid prism is what's going to save me if you ever decide to stick a flaming sword through my gut again.”

“...Fine. Fair point. ...So what now, huh? How do we find this Avanti thing?”

“First of all, it's not Avanti. It's a...Vaanti. Two words. ...Let's go somewhere private, Caleb. I think it's time to explain.”

Jake

Rebecca and my folks show up in the small hours of the morning. They have Varyyn with them, his hologram disguise in place. They try to sneak into my hospital room to avoid disturbing me, but it's not like I can sleep anyway. Varyyn hangs back while my parents tearfully embrace me, but I watch him through the space between their heads, and I can see his tepid expression.

“Hey, Varyyn,” I murmur after my parents and sister have given me a moment to breathe. “...How are you holding up?”

Varyyn twitches slightly, and I see a guilty flush creep into his cheeks. “...I am glad to see you are safe, Jake...” He trails off, looking away.

“...But I ain't your spouse, am I.” I offer him a sympathetic smile. “...I ain't mine, either.”

His mouth twists miserably, his eyes shimmering. “...They are together,” he whispers. “They must be together.”

“God, I fucking hope so...” I look desperately at my sister. “Tell me the cops got something, Bex. Anything...”

“There is something. ...One of Alodia's students came forward. Said she had been waiting to be picked up after class and Alodia was waiting with her to go to lunch with a friend. ...She gave a description of the woman Alodia left with. Said Alodia called her 'Jeanine,' and that she didn't seem happy to see her.”

I try not to show disappointment. Three people in this room were already aware of this information, but as far as my folks know, this should be a new development. I hope I can blame my lukewarm reaction on the concussion. The odds are probably better if I can manage to say something to convince them I didn't know the kidnapper's identity already.

“...The only Jeanine I can think of that we know is someone I used to serve with. She was there on La Huerta, and she was definitely hostile to Alodia, but...” What did we all agree happened to her? What did Mike and I say at Lundgren's trial all those years ago. “...We thought she was dead.”

“Varyyn told them that the name was familiar,” Rebecca says, giving me a meaningful look behind our parents' backs. “That you had mentioned her as someone from your Navy days you had fallen out with. But since he wasn't there on La Huerta, he doesn't know the whole story.”

Oh, is that the story we're going with? Seems fucking weird to think of Varyyn being from anywhere but La Huerta, but I guess now that he has a fake ID and he can mingle in the real world, he's got to have another backstory.  

“...There is one other thing,” Rebecca continues. “Whoever took Diego and Alodia, they were prepared. For the most part, they managed to stay off the security cameras both at the college and the dance school. ...But not entirely.”

That does make me snap to attention. Well, as much as I can in a hospital bed. “So there's footage?”

“There's footage of what the police believe is the ambulance they drove. Enough frames between the two sets of security footage to get a license plate. The vehicle hasn't been found yet, but...”

“...But it's something.”

It's enough to keep hope alive, even if it feels like fear is suffocating it. Fear can't really smother hope, though. As long as I am afraid, I still have hope. It's when fear starts to turn to despair that I'll have really lost hope. When I start grieving Alodia and Diego instead of being afraid that I will have to grieve them in the future.

“...When you're discharged,” my mother speaks up, covering my hand with hers, “would you like us to take you back to California? Or would you rather come stay with us until there's more information?”

I shake my head. “...The moment there's a real credible lead, I'll be wherever my wife most needs me to be. ...But for now, I can't leave Mike. Not until I know he's okay.”

“It's up to you, of course. We can get a hotel room for awhile. But they did tell us that his family has been informed.”

I hum noncommittally. Of course I trust Mike's family to look after him when they get here. But I still don't want to leave without word of Alodia. ...How can I think about going anywhere until I know where she is? Without her, I'm adrift. I'm spinning my wheels in a blizzard, and I can't even see the road ahead, even if I could get myself unstuck.

Tahira

“So...are you actually the Endless? Or are you just a manifestation of...some aspect of me that's taken on the form of the Endless?”

The red-clad old woman does not look back at me as we slog together through what has become a mucky swamp, thick with vines, water plants, and algae.

“A little bit of both. Vaanu is communicating with you mentally. I am an alternate version of Alodia, who is essentially a manifestation of some aspect of Vaanu. Unlike the Alodia you know, however, I never lived as a human in this world. I am the Alodia who was born of Vaanu's energy and my Catalysts' needs. But I never gave myself back to Vaanu, so I never merged the timelines, and thus I was never reborn on earth as the child of human parents. I am the Alodia who never lived in California. Who never attended Hartfeld. ...I am the Alodia who rejected Vaanu, and yet I am now the Alodia who is joined with him.”

“...That was...a long-winded answer. But surprisingly straightforward. That's not to say that I totally understand, but I was expecting you to be more...cryptic.”

“Unfortunately, this straightforwardness cannot last. ...I do not know where Alodia is, and neither does Vaanu. All we have is scattered knowledge to impart to you that may or may not help you find her. In fact, my main purpose here is to help you purge the poison from your body.”

“What kind of poison is it?”

“An ancient kind. Something toxic to those from the Crystal Dimension.” She pauses, turning toward me. “Have you ever been baptized, Tahira?”

“Baptized? No. My mom was never religious, and I never got into it either. ...I did see a friend of mine get baptized once...”

We were teenagers, I remember, and she invited most of the girls in our class, and I went mostly because it meant something to someone I considered a friend. Her church had a baptismal pool, and she and the other baptismal candidates waded in one by one to speak their vows, dressed in loose white robes. Then their pastor covered their face with a towel, took them in his arms, and rocked them back into the water while speaking the ritual words before drawing them up again. The ceremony meant nothing to me, but it was interesting to watch. Before I can ask the Endless why she wanted to know, I get my answer when she takes me in her arms and gets my legs out from under me to immerse me in the water around us. But I don't have the benefit of a cloth over my face, and the Endless doesn't seem to be drawing me up again. I try to find my footing, to get my head above the water, but she isn't letting me. Or something else isn't letting me. Either way, I start to panic. But then I remember my experience earlier, and I slowly still. Cautiously, I take a breath. Water flows smoothly into my lungs, and out again, easy as air.

“Good,” the Endless says soothingly. “Just breathe. Relax. Listen. Watch.”

I try to do as I'm told. In one of my middle school art classes, we made an optical illusion toy out of a circle of cardboard and two pieces of string. On one side of the cardboard was a picture of a bird, and on the other was a birdcage. The strings attached to opposite edges of the cardboard circle, and when you wound up the string and spun the toy, the images flipped so quickly that the bird seemed to appear inside the cage. Watching the images flashing in front of me on the surface of the water feels like watching that little bird hop into the cage. Or maybe like thumbing clumsily through a flip book where some of the pages are out of order.

I see the Endless with her helmet down, flames dancing above the skeletal claw that is her bionic right hand. I see Caleb superimposed over her, and they both close their right fists to extinguish the flames. I see Minuet holding out her hand to extend a slow-motion field over an unseen opponent. Then she morphs into Alodia, wearing a haunted expression as she holds out her hand and the wind that was stirring her yellow hair stills. I see a massive tree that I think must be Elyys'tel pulsing with light. And then the light fades and the tree withers as the sky turns gray, but lights are flashing in wild neon colors behind it. The images start coming faster. I can't keep track of them. But some do get through. Vaanti. Blue-skinned males and verdant females, dressed in masks and leafy garments, with tattoos decorating their powerful, glistening bodies. Then they're gone. Replaced by a steampunk-looking tribe who hunker around a fire in a post-apocalyptic desert, their pointed teeth tearing into the raw flesh of some unfortunate animal, blood sluicing down their chins.

...Anachronists...those are Anachronists! I mean, Alodia never told me they had fangs and ate raw animals, but...the steampunk outfits give them away. I open my mouth to say as much to the Endless. But now there's a problem.

...Suddenly, I can't breathe.

[fablesrose]

Of Kings and Shadows VI

Chapter VI

Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?

Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)

Notes: On Wattpad –> Here

Series Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Man, this thing is so itchy'

I wiggled a finger into the brace around my neck, trying to reach the itch in vain.

Every time my mind was drawn to the brace, or my neck, in general, I thought about Loki. Thor talked to me within the week, apologizing, and explaining what had happened.

"It's no excuse, of course..." He said

"But I guess this means that he doesn't have it out for me?" I tried to stay lighthearted, but couldn't help shifting the brace. I winced when I pulled a little hard, straining the weak flesh beneath.

Thor chuckled weakly, "something like that"

"Well I'll make sure not to participate in infiltration missions anytime soon, and if I do, change quickly"

"You shouldn't be on any missions anytime soon. You need to rest and get back to strength, Y/n"

"I appreciate it, and I will, your Highness"

"Good, but please, just Thor"

I simply smiled.

Flash forward a couple of weeks, in the infirmary for a check-up. They needed to see how my neck was healing and to get an idea when I can live without the brace. They keep saying I was lucky. No neurological damage, a moment longer, or harder and he might have broken my voice box, causing voice changes, and the miracle of not having any of the worse side effects. No bloody vomit, no personality changes, I didn't lose consciousness, it doesn't look like I'm going to have seizures. Only a minor concussion, no long-lasting effects.

They keep saying that, I'm lucky, but if I had just taken the jacket off. Left the helmet in the locker room. It wouldn't have happened in the first place. Just because I was stubborn. Some times it still seems strange to be able to take in a deep breath. Time and time again, I have to shake my head, dispel the uncomfortable feelings, flinch at the twinge at my throat.

I didn't feel so lucky.

"Y/n?"

I looked up to where a friendly woman was calling for me to come into the room. I never enjoyed doctor appointments, I mean who does? I feel like I'm complaining, and I always feel uncomfortable telling these things to a stranger. It's almost worse with someone you know... You see them again and they can judge you.

"Y/n, you need to relax. We can't asses the state of your [big word that I didn't catch... something in my neck] if you are straining your neck."

She had taken the brace off, and to be honest, I felt like a newborn. My head was too big for my body, and it was going to tip over, taking me with it. The only thing keeping my head up was the immense amount of effort I was putting into keeping it there.

"I know it seems weak, but it's stronger than you think. You need to relax"

I opened my mouth and stretched my jaw, trying to get the muscles to relax. Not just for her either, they were starting to painfully cramp. "I'm sorry, I'm trying. It's not working"

After about five minutes of me trying and failing to relax, she gave up.

"Okay, we're gonna have to try a different approach. I should be able to look at it without your cooperation"

I blanched, "wait... What"

Another woman came in with some equipment and a form.

"Sign this please"

I looked over it quickly, signing it with the pen she gave me. "What is this"

"Don't worry, it isn't dangerous. The form just says you are allowing us to do this and won't sue if things go awry. Which it won't" she continued to get it in the right position next to me. It looked like an IV bag, but there was obviously something else in it.

"That isn't comforting"

The doctor took a needle and the tourniquet to my arm. Then attached the bag. Only after did she turn to me and say, "well, this will be."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Clint walked down the hall, towards the infirmary. Y/n was supposed to have her follow up around this time and thought he would check-in and see what the doc said when she got out since he had a break. He walked into the waiting room to see Y/n looking puzzled at the ground. She waved a hand in front of her as if she was trying to grab something she couldn't quite see.

"Y/n!"

She looked up and smiled before doing a more forceful slap in the air. "Hi Clint"

"Are you okay? Have you gone in already?"

"Yes and yes, I have just seemed to have lost my desk"

Clint looked around just to make sure that he was in the infirmary, questioning himself first before the girl in front of him.

"Um, Y/n, you aren't at your desk "

She glared at him, which caused him to step back, "Well obviously Clint!" She  gestured at the space in front of her, "Because I lost it!"

He sighed and walked up to what one could call a receptionist, "Hey, can I take her?" Clint threw a thumb back at the confused girl sitting behind him.

The guy at the desk looked around Clint to Y/n. "Hey, miss L/n?"

She peaked her head up at the sound of her name, "Yes, sir?"

He smiled with a patience that can only be blessed with one who has dealt with way more whacked up patients, "Do you know this guy?"

"Yeah, that's Clint. Barton. Agent Barton"

"Is it okay if you go with him?"

"Yeah, as long as he helps me find my desk"

The receptionist straightened himself in his seat and fixed his gaze on Clint, "So, she seems okay with it, so I'm gonna have to get your ID and fill this release form."

Clint handed him his SHIELD ID to be scanned and started filling out the form. Once he was done he took his ID and walked back over to where Y/n was sitting... Only to find she wasn't sitting there anymore.

Clint snapped around to the guy at the desk.  He just shrugged his shoulders with wide eyes, organizing the papers he got handed.

Snapping back around he said the only thing that fit the occasion, "well, shit"

Y/n wandered the hall, her lost desk long forgotten. She was hungry, and could not for the life of her remember where the kitchen was. It didn't help that the hallways kept changing like the labyrinth. She kept a hand reaching for a wall, occasionally steadying her. She followed the walls, hoping to find somewhere that had food. Soon she started to lose time and stopped paying attention to where she was going.

That was until she bumped into someone, to which she stopped and looked up at him. He seemed familiar.

"Oh, Y/n" He paused and looked at the brace around her neck, "I will just apologize for--"

"What's your name again?"

He looked down at her, baffled, "Loki"

Her eyes widened, eyebrows raised, and her mouth formed a perfect little "o" in realization, "That's right, sir. Now if you'll excuse me, Your Highness." She continued down the hall, now actively looking for the kitchen once she was startled awake per se.

Loki just watched after her confused. That was not how he expected their first conversation to go after... Not that he was planning it, but he had some ideas, and that was not one of them. After a moment he continued down the hall but was stopped again by someone else bumping into him. Loki scowled, why couldn't anyone watch where they were going?

Clint had a hand on the wall and was bent over panting as if he had been sprinting for a while. "Loki! Have you seen Y/n?"

He looked at him with ruffled eyebrows and dragged out his answer, "yes?"

Clint instantly straightened, "Where'd she go? I have liability over her at the moment and she disappeared on me."

Loki pointed down the hall to where he had spoken to her, still very much confused.

Clint dashed along the wall leaving Loki without another word. Loki had a debate in his head, and by the end of it he sighed and took off after him. It didn't take long for Loki to catch up and pass Clint with his fresh and very long legs. He eventually skidded to a stop when he found the target, still wandering with no idea where she was going.

"Y/n! There you are."

She turned at the call of her name, right as Clint caught up. "Oh hi, your highness."

Clint gasped and turned to Loki in betrayal, "what'd you do to her"

"I didn't do anything! Why's she like this in the first place?"

"Hi Agent Barton"

Clint turned his attention back to his charge, "Oh, she's just doing that thing she does." He walked up to her and looped an arm around her shoulders, making sure she didn't go anywhere, "Hey, let's get you to the common room, then we can figure out what to do with you."

"Is there food in the common room?"

"If you want there to be"

She perked up even more, "Lead the way to the food"

The three of them walked around the building to the common room, an amazing feat of navigation from Y/n's point of view. They sat her down on the couch, Loki making sure she didn't go anywhere while Clint went into the kitchen. He came back with a bag of potato chips and handed it to Y/n.

"Why is she like this? She isn't even scared of me"

"They did something to her during her check-up... I wouldn't feel too bad, she was sitting in a chair in the infirmary thinking she had lost her desk"

"Hmm"

They just stood there and watched as she ate her chips, trying to figure out what to do with her.

"What's she doing?"

"Hey Tasha, " Clint turned to the newcomer, "she's fresh from her follow up in the infirmary. I'm thinking they doped her up, so she's pretty out of whack."

"I'm on drugs?!"

Clint approached her slowly, "No! What I mean is--"

"No! I can't! Have you seen how many commercials there are??" She sobbed and looked up at Natasha, "I can't be a warning Agent Romanoff!!"

Natasha sat down next to her, "Its Natasha sweetie, you're not going to be a warning"

Y/n didn't listen, "I failed *crunch* the *crunch* D.A.R.E. program... *more crunching from chewing potato chips*"

"Oh dear" Loki, Natasha, and Clint all looked at each other, it's gonna be a long day.

Over the next hour, all the Avengers gathered in the common room to try and calm Y/n down, but nothing seemed to be working.

"I promised my parents..." That caused her to cry even more, and Bruce handed her a glass of water. "Thank you, Dr. Banner." As she drank the water she began to calm down like a miracle. She finished the glass and let out a small sniff, "I'm gonna get fired..."

They all sighed, here we go again.

"If I'm fired I won't ever get to see you guys again..."

They all paused, touched that even in her clouded brain she would think of all of them.

Tony was the first to speak, "Don't worry kid, you can't get rid of us that easily"

Everyone either nodded or voiced their agreeance, except Loki. He simply shrugged, he had no attachment to her.

Y/n reached up to scratch her neck, but just scratched the brace. She put both hands around it and felt the stiff fabric, "why is my neck so big?" She tried to take it off, but Clint stopped her.

"nonononono, leave that on. It's better than it was before. The brace is less thick this time."

"My neck was thicker?!"  

"Okay!" Tony stood up from his chair, "I'm gonna ask what the crap is going on with her when it'll wear off"

Loki stood after Tony had left and started towards his room.

"Brother! Where are you going?"

"To my room to be alone"

A chorus sounded behind him, "Nope! You get to deal with her with us!"

"May I ask why?"

"Cuz you're the one who got her in this situation"

He sighed and flopped back down into his chair, summoning a book to read.

"OH! I like books. What is that one"

Loki looked at the childlike wonder in the drugged woman on the couch, "One you wouldn't understand"

There was a moment of silence, "Probably true sir" She looked down at her lap, "I want a blanket"

Loki turned back to his book while someone got up to grab Y/n a blanket.

"Why don't you tell me what the crap is going on with Y/n!?"

The doctor who treated Y/n calmly replied to Tony, "what do you mean?"

"Why did you give her so much morphine?"

"We haven't given her morphine in over two weeks"

"Then what did you give her?"

"We brought in the anesthesiologist and put her under in order for her to relax"

"Why didn't you give her something like laughing gas or something that wears off faster?"

She looked him dead in the eyes, not wavering, "Because Mr. Stark, it was my call, and we don't have that equipment here. The injuries we usually tend to are large enough for them to be put under to deal with. I suggest you don't question the medical doctor in the room"

Tony sighed and took a step back.

The doctor turned and whispered to the nurse next to her, "and the author thought it would be funny"

"What was that about an author?"

She smiled, "I was simply talking to her about my favorite book and author that I follow. It was a continuation of before you arrived."

"So how long... when will the effects wear off?"

"She should be ready to drive home by the end of the day"

He closed his eyes and huffed out a breath, "Thank Thor"

Tony reentered the common room ready to relay the news. It was almost picturesque, the whole team there, supporting a mutual friend. She was wrapped up in a blanket, carefully eating a cheese stick. Everyone seemed tired, just enough energy to make sure she didn't runoff.

Tony smiled and took the last available spot next to Steve. "She should be ready to go by the end of the day."

"That's good news. It seems like the effects are starting to wear off already."

Everyone relaxed, a quiet afternoon ahead of them. Surrounded by the people they worked with and cared about, it didn't turn out to be a rotten day. Everyone was ready for a nap though, dealing with Y/n's behaviors. So they started to doze.

Quiet

Peaceful

Comforting

"Wait! Where's my desk!?"

Tags: @nightrose64

[kaitlynpcallmebeepme]

I’ll Fight For You

I’ll Fight For You

Peter Parker x Reader 

Warnings:  Fight scene, explosions, hurt descriptions, starving self, swearing I think, nursing organ facts (tell me if you think of any more), fluff, and a hint of angst

A/N: This is the work I have for @keepingupwiththeparkers for her 4,000 follower writing challenge. 

#kuwtp4kwc

Thinking about making an origin story for Gargoyle. The good title I thought of I want to save for my series. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Requests are open and Messages are open if you want to chat. The gifs came from google, so credit goes to the person who made them. I don’t own Gargoyles the show either.

Background: Only slight endgame spoilers for this description. In my world, Carol snapped the gauntlet to kill Thanos and made it through the time machine, but left the mind and time stone so they could bring Vision back and returned the soul stone to save Natasha, and Steve didn't go back in time. Avengers Tower was bought back until the compound could be rebuilt and remained as a kind of a base since Queens is closer to the tower than the compound.

Tag list: Send me an ask if you want to be added. 

@trashinaglass and @peter-pan-hoe ♡

Dialogue prompt:

8. “I thought I’d lost you”

Word count: 1,860

The intel was terrible at best. When have you ever heard of a hydra agent defecting.  That didn't matter anymore. What mattered is that your team, the Avengers, got the intel about chemical weapons Hydra was developing and get out of the base as quickly as possible. 

Taking revenge on the people who tortured you is one of the sweetest things ever. You were Y/n. Last name you never knew. Part of a species of bat-human hybrids that you were the sole survivor of, thanks to hydra of course. Mainly a human body with slightly pointed ears, retractable claws, an echolocation trackability, better hearing, sharp teeth, bat-shaped wings protruding from your back, skin that can turn to stone, and slight healing powers, which were amplified if you turned completely to stone for some time. You took the name Gargoyle after Peter showed you The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It was his job to catch you, Steve, and Bucky up on all of the pop culture stuff you missed.

You and Peter had the bottom floor almost cleared with the task of searching for hostages. You liked the curly-haired nerd. You two were around the same age when the Avengers raided the Hydra base you were kept captive in. He was the one to hoist your bloody body over his shoulders and carry you out of there. You both valued stealth and sticking to ceilings. You both often trained together and we're interested in both of your talents, yours of which was blacksmithing and Anatomy. You both tested your powers to see how far you could push each other and discover what your limits were. Peter could spend an hour upside-down before he started to feel fatigued and your healing ability worked better if you have a lot of what was hurt. For example, a kidney would heal a lot faster than a heart because there are two kidneys and one heart. 

Okay, back to the mission. No hostages or test subjects have been found as you and Peter kept making your way around your floor. It was mainly storage rooms with few people in the hallways. Not as exciting for you, but you didn't want to go into a room where you two couldn't handle what was inside.

You and Peter got on the ceiling in front of the last room you had to check off your floor. When all of a sudden the door burst open on its own and the air was filled with bullets. Two big guys with miniguns. TWO?!?! Normally it would be one and a lot of smaller henchmen covering him. You looked at Peter for some silent sign of a game plan. He drew a 'Z' with his fingers and pointed to his web shooter. Then made the cracking fist motion with his hands. You nodded and made a silent prayer that this worked because you hated having to play fair when taking out minigunners. Peter shot the two guys with taser webs, which brought them both to the floor. You two then dropped down and started going ham on betting these two up. You just hit the back of their head until their occipital lobe knocked out their vision. Fury would be by later to arrest everyone, but you wanted to make sure they stayed down. You cut up their arms and legs a bit just so it would make it difficult for any of the men to escape. You disarmed the miniguns and Peter webbed down the guys as best as he could. 

"Wonder what they were guarding?" 

"I don't know Gargoyle, but we better be careful."

You gently pushed the door open revealing a planning room covered in blueprints. Some were for cannons and others were for what looked like experiments. Turning humans into other creatures, which in turn would be used for Hydra. 

"Make sure to have Karen scan all these."

Before you could analyze the plans in front of you, you were knocked to the ground. Your body went into full fight mode preparing to stab whoever tackled you. Good thing your mind caught up to your instincts and realized it was Peter who was on top of you. Your senses were thrown off as all you could hear was bullet shells hitting the ground and an AK-47 going on full blast. You extended your arm and hit a button to make a small sharp disc fly out from above your wrist. The disk shot under the table and took the last man standing down. You kicked the gun away and gave the guy a few scars with your Assassin's Creed wrist knives. 

It was only then when you realized that Peter didn't get up. He was groaning in the middle of the floor where you left him.  He was on his side, but you could see the number of bullets in his left side. You turned Peter over and realized he's bleeding a lot faster than he should be. 

"Hit near the pancreas and spleen. Shit." If there was one thing you remembered from all your time studying Anatomy, it was those two organs have a lot of blood going through them. "Nonononono. Kid, you gotta stay with me. You gotta stay awake." You hit his face a bit to keep him conscious. 

You didn't want to move him because that could make it worse and you were definitely not qualified to remove bullets on a battlefield from an advanced human. So you did the next best thing. You held the button on your earpiece. "Code Blue. Underoos's been hit. I repeat. Code Blue. Underoos's been hit." 

"What? Where are you guys?" Tony's panicked voice wasn't helping your demeanor.

"Basement; in a room full of blue-." Your eyes grew wide for a split second as you saw the guy who shot Peter with a grenade in his hand and his thumb in the ring.

"Hail Hydra." 

You didn't have time to think. You scooped up Peter and ran as fast as you could before the pin could be pulled. You both barely made it to the doorway before the whole room exploded. You wings protected the two of you from most of the flames, didn't mean it didn't hurt. 

"Kids, you ok?" There came the Dad voice from Clint again. Clint, you liked to call the perfect mix of sass and fatherly advise.

You slowly lifted your wings but kept them up to keep the rubble dust out of your eyes. You looked over at Peter who you could tell was still losing consciousness. "We're fine. The basement's clear. I can run him back to the quinjet and rush him to the medbay of you guys can meet me there." 

"We're done here. Everyone meet at the jet and we're rushing the kid back. Do you need cover?" Natasha was one of the few people to keep Tony's mind straight besides Pepper.

"No. I can run him back up. The basement's clear." Just as I scooped Peter back up and started to run to the stairs, remote turrets came online. "Of people."

Your bare feet skidded across the dirty floor as you made a break for the Northwest stairs while trying to avoid the bodies that littered the floor. Your wings covered you both, but the bullets that hit your legs still hurt. Your heart pounded in your ears as the only person you were worried for was Peter. Did he lose too much blood? Was his body healing around the bullets? Would he ever wake up from this? You pushed your thoughts to the back of your head and focused on running. 

The snow of Ireland made your bare feet bleed, but you were numb to pain at this point as you layed Peter down in the jet. You tried to focus all of your healing energy to your hands, but it wasn't helping. You just decided to step back and let Bruce and Tony try their hardest to help as F.R.I.D.A.Y flew you back to the tower.

They took Peter to the Intensive Care Unit and only when they gave him a transfusion of blood and took all 12 bullets out of his side were you allowed to see him. He had a slight concussion and his face was bruised from the fall. You couldn't do anything to help him but hold his hand with the IV still in.

"Do you remember when we met? It was my first day. Still getting used to the compound. You were hanging from the ceiling as I was quenching a blade in the garage and scared the shit out of me I almost left the blade too long in the oil. I was a mess then. Still thinking that I was undeserving of love. That hydra had used me too much that I wasn't worth anything anymore. Even before Hydra my parents never made me feel good about myself." A shaky breath left your cut lip as you let tears silently slip out. "You're too good for this world Peter. You go out of your way for the little guy. You made me realize no matter how many people kick you in the jaw, even if it's one person or just yourself that wants you to keep going, you get the hell back up. I am that now for you. Please wake up. Please. Just don't be dead. Please." You were crying waterfalls at that point that any words you tried to make came out shaky.

"You are my sunshine 

My only sunshine 

You make me ha... ha-ppy

When skies are gray

You'll never know dear

How much I love you 

Please don't take

God please don't take 

My sunshine away."

A week he was asleep. A week too long. His body was healing fine and fast. His brain just needs to realize he's ok and wake up. May visited a lot and talked to you. She felt like another mother to you. In fact, all the women you met through the Avengers were your mother. Well, Shuri was a little older than you, so she's your older sister.  You refused to eat and got ticked off at anyone who tried to get you to. Of course you couldn't die, but starving was slow and it hurt. Eventually, Wanda had to put you in a dreamlike trans in order for them to put an IV in you. You couldn't leave Peter, you couldn't.

One morning you woke up from the side of Peter's bed and saw his eyes open and him sitting up. 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah. I woke up in the night and the nurse brought me water and said you haven't left me since I got here." His hand went up and whipped away a tear that you didn't realize was falling.

"You got me there Parker. Don't ever scare me like that again. I thought I'd lost you."

"I won't and you can't get rid of me that easily." He kissed your forehead as you kept smiling through the tears. "Now we better eat before we get suffocated in Aunt May and Mr. Star's hugs." 

"Agreed."

[fiftyshadesgrl]

He saved me/ part 10

Me and dean followed sam downstairs to where bobby was sitting at his table looking over a bunch of files.

"What have you got?" Dean spoke first.

"Well it could be something, then again it could be a whole lot of nothin." Bobby said turning the paper in front of him around to where we could look at it. "I found a list of names of demons that have been in contact with parker. Theres 16 all together. Theyre all spread out over the surrounding towns to where you were found."

With the last sentence bobby looked at me. I nodded, "doesnt surprise me. He had connections everywhere." I scanned the list of names and one stood out to me. "Patrick windsor." I whispered.

"That somebody you knew?" Bobby asked.

"Not really, i mean i met him a couple of times but i never truly knew him. Thats parkers father."

"Do we know where to find him?" Dean spoke this time, seeming anxious.

Bobby shook his head. "Nothing as of yet but im sure sam here can find out." Sam nodded and went to go get his laptop before i stopped him.

"Wait." I pulled out the folder i had been carrying. "I found this in the files upstairs."

Bobby took it from my hands, "ill be damned."

"It just stood out to me and i guess this is why." I said taking a seat across from bobby.

"Do you have files on any of the other people bobby?" Sam asked.

Bobby shrugged, "its possible."

I stood quickly and grabbed the paper with the list of names. "Ill go check."

"Ill come with you." Dean rushed to my side. I just nodded, after our talk i didnt dread deans company like i once had.

"Lets go back to the spare room and look first since thats where i found patricks file." I told dean as we made it to the top of the stairs. He just followed me to the room. I sat on the floor and smiled when dean joined me.

"Okay ive got them in alphabetical order so we should find them fairly easy." I grabbed the first pile.

"Youre amazing." I looked up in surprise when he said that. He was smiling at me with a glint in his eyes.

"What?" I whispered.

"You came here, you cleaned up all these files, put them away in alphabetical order, you also organized the books and placed them by origin and language. You cook for bobby, you take care of him. After everything you went through." Dean said in amazement.

"He took me in, took me under his wing. He is the father i never had. I love him to death." I went back to trying to find the first name in the files.

"Im sorry." I felt deans hand on my ankle.

"For what?" I looked at him puzzled.

"For everything. You were going through all that and i walked out on you. I couldve, no i shouldve explained myself but i was a coward."

"Dean, i have called you many things in my head but a coward is not one of them."

We both laughed at that. I couldnt let dean keep torturing himself. It wasnt all him. "Look it took me forever to come to terms with this but i was the coward dean. I ran away, i thought i wasnt good enough for you. That you had went out to find what you wanted and that just wasnt me. Parker always told me no man will ever want me that i would disgust any man out there but him. So when you walked out that night i knew it was true. But now i know better. I understand what youre trying to say and how you feel. Theres nothing to forgive dean, i mean it."

"Then why do i feel like shit?" He said scooting closer to me.

"Because you havent forgave yourself."

He sighed and just shook his head. "I dont think that will ever happen."

I nudged his shoulder, "come on, suck it up buttercup we gotta find these files before sam finds them on his internet first."

He chuckled, "youre competeing with sam?"

"Hell yeah, the internet cant beat my methods here." I grabbed another stack of files and handed them to dean. "So get to work winchester."

"Yes ma'am."

Two hours later we had found all the names but one. "Well," dean said standing and stretching "is there anywhere else the file could be?"

I nodded, "yeah in my room. Ive done got all those in the file cabinets so itll be easier to look through."

He followed me down the hall to my room but didnt walk in. "You can come in ya know."

He just looked at his feet, "are you sure? I mean this is your bedroom and..."

"Dean. Im not going to molest you. Get in here and help me look for this last file." I said pulling him by the shirt into the room. Instead of turning like i probably should have i stood facing him. His hands went to my hips as mine fisted in his shirt.

I inhaled his scent and that feeling of comfort and security enveloped me like it did before. I leaned into his chest, resting my cheek against right over where his heart was. It was beating so fast about as fast as mine. His arms wrapped around me and i felt his lips and nose bury in my hair next to my neck.

I tried to get closer to him but i was as close as i could get. I wanted to climb inside his chest and stay there forever. It was like a dam inside me burst, the tears fell freely and a choked sob escaped my lips.

"Dont cry sweetheart." Dean whispered against my neck.

I fisted his shirt more and sobbed. "I cant help it. God ive missed you." My hands roamed over his chest then wrapped around his neck. He held me until the tears had stopped.

"Ive missed you so much. You have no idea." Dean said rubbing my back. He started kissing my neck and jawline. I kissed his shoulder and collarbone through his shirt.

I pulled back away from him, both of us panting as he brushed his lips up against mine. The tears started flowing again as our lips crushed together. His hand tangled in my hair and pulled me closer to deepen the kiss.

I could feel how hard he was through his jeans. I needed him, forget everything that happened and just have him. Have my security again. My safe zone, but i realized where we were. I pushed against his chest, "dean, stop. We cant do this here."

He kept placing small kisses on my lips. "Why not?"

I pulled back, "bobby is like a father to me and to you. We cant do this in his house."

He grunted something under his breath. Then with that lustful look i love so much he looked up at me. "Okay, lets go for a drive somewhere. I dont care where, i just gotta have you."

"Dont you think theyll be suspicious?"

"I dont care." He growled.

I smiled at him and nodded. "Okay but let me get these files to bobby. Sam can find the last name im sure."

He smiled that panty dropping smile that made me weak in the knees. "Ill be waiting in the car." He gave me a quick heated kiss and with that he walked out the door and down the stairs. I glanced at the last name on the list and figured id make dean wait for a minute. I dug through the files in the one cabinet and just like i said, easy to find.

I changed out of my night shirt into some shorts and a tank top, then grabbed the files and made my way down stairs.

"Here ya go bobby." I huffed, dropping the files on the table in front of him. "You had files on every one of them."

He smiled and grabbed the first one, "what would i do without you kiddo?"

I walked around and kissed his cheek. "Probably fill up on tv dinners and drink way to much." I smiled down at him, "me and dean are going out for food. Anybody want anything?"

"Usual for me." Sam said from his chair in the corner.

I nodded and bobby waved me off, "is that what theyre calling it these days?" He said looking up at me.

I furrowed my brows, "what are you talking about?"

He glared at me, "i may be old but im not stupid. Just be careful, alright."

I nodded with a slight blush on my cheeks and headed for the door. Dean was sitting in the drivers seat tapping his thumb on the steering wheel. I opened the door and climbed in, i scooted all the way over to him. He smiled at me as he started the car and peeled out of the driveway.

@an-unhealthy-obsession

[1-800-444-tune]

I have cancer ...PLEASE DONATE !!😫😪😔😞

HOME

This is my main blog, I mostly do Tarot and other divination services on here, and most often it is for FREE. Which, this is NOT fair to me, but none of ya 'll know about my struggle.. bug it is real hear me out, yo.

ABOUT ME

I am nearly 30 years old now and I was actually first off diagnosed with Ovarian cysts at the age as young as 14 yrs old, yes, I was 16 by the time it went untreated and had spread all through my ovaries and to all the fallopian tubes and my uterus... then untreated still another couple years (because of poor health care in my smaller rural communities including my hometown) then at 19 my whole entire uterine lining was xomething of a mess, the doctors said basically all there woukd have been to prevent it from dpreading the cancer elsewhere would have been a full out take of my sexual organs , i believe the term is a hysterectomy....but on my paperwork i see here that it says that I was to undergo something else... + + The removal of an ovary together with the Fallopian tube is called salpingo-oophorectomy or unilateral salpingo-oophorectomy (USO). When both ovaries and both Fallopian tubes are removed.

But that did not happdn due to complications. So now, its spread to my other organs as youd guess, spleen, liver, kidneys, etc...it is a shitttSHOW I knowe.

This is why I would appreciate it if some one, any one would stand up for me ..just have a say in whether I eat today or not, or whether I stay in this residence without having to move this winter, I mean, Winter, its settling in.,,

I do not always feel totally blessed to be me; But ai I cannot complain when the bills is caught up and I gots good food at home(and the fight food, I am on a special expensive diet)

Cancer is expensive…AF!  If you have cancer, this is no news to you. But until cancer happened to me, I had no idea how expensive it truly was.  I think it’s safe to say that that seeing how much it will cost to undergo treatment is almost as frightening as getting the actual cancer diagnosis.  My diagnosis has definitely opened my eyes to the shocking reality of the financial burden that cancer causes for an individual and their family.  The astronomical expenses that accrue from treatments, tests, surgeries, scans, integrative therapies, etc are outrageous! While there are both public and private health insurance that defray medical and drug costs, huge out-of-pocket costs can be devastating to patients and force major changes in their lives. I’ve had to make several changes and my life has been affected indefinitely due to the financial burden that cancer has caused. The financial stress it causes for people during treatment until remission alone is hard, but imagine living with cancer where the treatments, doctor visits, tests and lifestyle adjustments are ever enduring, like when you have metastatic cancer.  It’s life altering… to say the least.

HOW MUCH DOES CANCER TREATMENT ACTUALLY COST?

This is an impossible question to answer. The cost of treatment obviously varies from individual to individual based on their diagnosis, the type of treatment they will require and the longevity of the treatment.  However, the “typical” cost of breast cancer looks a little something like this according to recent studies.

“For patients covered by health insurance, out-of-pocket costs for breast cancer treatment typically consist of doctor visit, lab and prescription drug copays as well as coinsurance of 10%-50% for surgery and other procedures, which can easily reach the yearly out-of-pocket maximum. Breast cancer treatment typically is covered by health insurance, although some plans might not cover individual drugs or treatments. For patients not covered by health insurance, breast cancer treatment typically costs $15,000-$50,000 or more for a mastectomy or $17,000 to $35,000 or more for a lumpectomy followed by radiation.”

New cancer drugs are being approved at a fast pace.  Numerous are approved each year and new drugs are constantly in trial and in the pipeline to be FDA approved. In the past, these drugs might cost around $10,000 for a year’s treatment. But newer studies have found that newly-approved cancer drugs carry price tags between $120,000 and $170,000!  One of the drugs I take as part of my daily cocktail, is a newly FDA approved drug called Ibrance… for heavily pretreated ER+ metastatic patients.  It has worked wonders for me but a month supply of this drug is over $12,000.  I am blessed to have good coverage, but not all people are as fortunate.

“Depending on the individual case and the type and number of treatments needed, the total cost of breast cancer treatment, on average, can reach $100,000 — or, in advanced cases, $300,000 or more. This includes the cost of the chemotherapy drugs, additional drugs to help manage side effects, administration of the drugs and medical care for chemotherapy-related complications.”

And again, if you are anything like myself and are living with a metastatic diagnosis, treatments and care is endless with no foreseeable light at the end of the tunnel.

😔😫😫🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗🎗😔😔😫

WHY IS IT SO EXPENSIVE???

The never ending list of cancer expenses looks a little something like this:

 🎗Frequent doctor visits with surgeon, radiologist, oncologist.  I personally see my oncologist once every 3 weeks and check in with my surgeon every couple of months.

🎗Lab Tests.  This includes blood tests, urine tests and more. I get my labs done every few weeks when I see my oncologist to check my levels and tumor markers.

🎗Clinic visits for treatments. When I was on IV treatment I would be in the treatment center every few weeks.  Currently I take an oral chemo and only have to be in the treatment clinic once every few months for my Lupron injection. But many people are in the treatment clinic, daily or weekly to get their infusions and injections.

🎗Procedures for diagnosis or treatment. Such procedures can include biopsies, room charges, equipment..  I’ve had a few biopsies and had to get lung taps done frequently when I had lung mets.

🎗Imaging Tests. These tests include X-rays, CT scans, MRIs and PET scans which may mean separate bills for radiologist fees, equipment and any medicines used for the test.  These tests are extremely costly too…yikes!  I get PET/CT scans every 3 months, consistently for the past 6 years now.

🎗Radiation Treatment  (implants, external radiation, or both) I have never had radiology but as we know, it’s a very common treatment for most cancers.

Drug🎗 Costs. (inpatient, outpatient, prescription, non-prescription and procedure-related) The cost of chemotherapy drugs is crazy!

🎗In-Home Nurse Care (if you need it, and I do actually, yes) and its freaking insane how much these so called "nurses aids -assistants" want an hour!!

Hospital 🎗Stays. This can encompass many types of costs such as drugs, tests and procedures as well as nursing care, doctor visits and consults with specialists. I have been admitted twice, each time for a week stay for cancer related issues.

🎗Surgery. Costs can accrue from surgeon, anesthesiologist, pathologist, operating room fees, equipment, medicines…  I have had 3 lumpectomies and 2 other surgical procedures related to my cancer diagnosis.

🎗Fertility.  If you are blindsided and diagnosed in your 20’s or 30’s with a cancer diagnosis and want to have a family, freezing your eggs is an option, but a costly one.  You will be required to pay for tests, and medications leading up to the surgical procedure to remove your eggs.  I paid about $10K out of pocket to cover the cost of freezing my eggs.

While these are examples of the clinical costs associated with cancer, there are other adjustments you may want to make that will also prove to be costly.  I personally changed my diet and started to eat all organic foods and sought integrative therapies to add to my clinical regime.  You can read more about the therapies I have incorporated here.  All of these expenses add up and certainly are a financial strain.

🎗🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟And of course we need to pay... Rent, heat/hydro, car/transportation/ambulance bills , always bills bills bills billsssss.....and wifi/internet/television/mobile phone znd/or tablet or computer and gaming systems... camera.....im z girl so clothes..makeup,(I'm thrifty ricky tho) and always last, maybe maybe get sweets healthwise branded cookies or some type of peanuts(unsalted).

I never get go, go nowhere, do anything, get a coffee from a coffee shop, i can't afford to do just about anything a normal individual such as yourself yourself would do, i just cannot do it its not in my budget ... I currently own ONE lipgloss, and one broken eye liner , that is my makeup beauty kit, who the heck wants to even go out or take pictures thenn? Ugh....

Www.paypal.me/believeitxxnot is the link to the Cancer Fundraiser🎗the email for it is believeitornot.ripley.tv@gmail.com

Anyways, do not feel bad for me. I am here to service YOU for ever I know this . TY so much ily guys , please please if you will not donate to my awfully painfully really urgent cause then PLEASE SHARE POST ..... BOOOST POOOOST !! PLZ !! XOXO

I need the supporters !! Yo yo ! DOOOONAAAATEEEEE!!

A n y t h i n g h e l p s m e r i g h t n o w , p l e a s e ! ?

[wittyy-name]

Wild Magic - Part V: Flying - Now on Patreon

Keith/Lance, Rated M, Part Five: 27,920 words | Total So Far: 119,000+ violence, magic, vastaya au, strangers to lovers, freedom fighter Keith, entertainer Lance, action, adventure, fantasy, pining

Fic Summary: The Vastaya are an ancient and proud race, born of magic and man, and they are dying. The spread of humans makes the magic of their homelands run thin. What is left is preyed upon and corrupted by the rising galra influence.

After losing their home, what remains of the Marmora tribe scatters, fighting the spread of corruption where they can. For the last century, this is the only life Keith has known. And with Shiro’s disappearance, he’s more alone than ever. But he keeps going, even if it means losing himself. For the fight. For his people. For their future. For his homelands. For magic.

The last thing he expected to find was another feathered Vastaya, one with wings that shone like the sky and moved like waves when he danced. He never asked for company, never wanted it. But as Keith finds himself growing fond of Lance’s flippant attitude and determined blue eyes, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want to fight alone anymore.

Part I: Falling – Part II: Rising – Part III: Soaring - Part IV: Gliding

Wild Magic is my upcoming fic collab with @wolfpainters. I’ll be working on this fic between major fic updates, and posting the chapters to my Patreon for all patrons of the $15 tier and up. This fic wont be posted to Ao3 until its completely finished, and Sora is done with all the art. This will be a while in the making, so become a patron for early access!

This is by far my favorite thing I’ve ever written, and it’s by far both of our favorite fic/au that we’ve done. Part V dives deeper into the lore and world building as the gang finds the altean monastery, convinces them to unite against the galra, Keith finds Krolia, and Keith and Lance share more tender moments. 

Patreon | Ko-fi | Twitter | Ao3

Excerpt Below

He's no stranger to chasing rumors. He's done so for centuries. Following whispered words and letting gossip guide him.

As such, he's familiar with the frustration that comes when a lead runs dry.

"This sucks," Pidge huffs, voice trailing to a strangled yelp as she once again on the roots and vines that crawl across the pathways. Keith peers down from his perch, watching as she stumbles, pointing angrily at the ground. "Okay, I know they're doing that on purpose! I saw it this time! The vines are moving, I swear."

Lance's chuckle comes lilting on the breeze, voice drifting from within the home Keith perches on top of. "The forest is having fun with you, Pidge."

"I hate forests." She sits on the lip of a cracked stone fountain, crossing her arms and legs, shoulders hunched. "I thought the ones outside Piltover were bad, but at least those ones didn't try to kill me."

"It's not trying to kill you," Shiro says from across what had once been a village square. His hands rest on his hips, tail flicking the air behind him and ears twitching restlessly. He turns slowly, eyes roaming. "It's just... playful."

"You talk like it has a mind of it's own."

"It does!"

Keith looks down to see Lance crawl out of one of the building's windows. He dusts himself off, straightening his clothes and taking gentle care to check Keith's feathers pinned to his cloak. He knows the feathers are far more durable than that, but the fact that he checks them incessantly makes a warmth flicker in Keith's chest.

"All forests do, but here the magic from the spirit realm is so thick that it saturates everything. The forest is actually able to act on its mind instead of standing idle."

"Great," Pidge says dryly. "So it's alive. Wonderful."

"Technically, all forests are alive." Hunk walks out of the building below Keith, using the open doorway. There's a bundle of bound parchment in his arms.

"You know what I mean," Pidge snaps, but Hunk hardly notices.

"Guys, this is so cool. I found some books? But they're like, really, really old books. It's in a language I don't even understand! I found a couple in what I assume was the kitchen, so maybe they're cook books? I found a few others scattered in the house. Do you think the Alteans can help us decipher them?"

"Probably," Matt says, swinging down from atop another building on a loose branch. He lands easily, picking a leaf out of his hair. "If they're really as old as people say they are. I agree with Hunk, though. This is amazing." He throws his arms out, gesturing to the village as he spins. "This is a footprint of ancient Ionian civilization. Back when people used to work with magic and natural to build their homes. I've read about it, but I never thought I'd see it."

"Too bad it's abandoned," Keith mutters.

"Well, yes, there is that."

Keith crosses his arms over his chest, taking a step back to turn and let his eyes scan across the village. It isn't the first they've come across. Since setting foot on this island, they haven't seen a single living person. Aside from the spirits and animals, they had nothing but eerie silence to keep them company. Even the strong melody of magic couldn't detract from the feeling of emptiness that settled across the landscape.

Like all the other villages they'd come across, the buildings of this one were woven from the trees themselves. Not built from the trees, but rather that the trees had grown and shaped to suit the village needs. They'd seen all sorts of natural architecture as they'd ventured deeper into the island. From all sorts of plant life and the earth itself. The buildings they'd come across settled naturally into the landscape rather than stand atop it.

He'd heard of such magic. Nature magic. The ability to communicate with the energies of the earth. To call out to the magic of living things and will them to grow in specific ways. Wood weavers. Earth builders.

Many vastaya villages were made in a similar way, but he'd heard that long ago, humans could use this kind of magic. He never truly believed it, but now the proof was all around him. On an island that had been abandoned and left an empty husk for spirits to roam.

The humans had fallen far if this is where their ancestry lied.

"Pidge, you have a few..." Keith glances down to find Matt sitting on the lip of the fountain next to Pidge, gesturing vaguely around his head.

Pidge sighs, shoulders slumping. There's a faint glowing bobbing around her head. Two of them. "I know. I tried getting rid of them, but they keep coming back." As Keith watches, the glowing seems to solidify. Two spirits, pale in color and bodies fat and round. Looking like palm sized caterpillars with large eyes and markings that pulsed with light. They became more corporeal, nuzzling into Pidge's hair. "Besides," She says, unable to stop her smile. "They're kind of cute, I guess."

"They think your hair is a nest," Matt snickers, and Pidge playfully shoves him.

Shiro sighs, arms crossing over his chest. "I don't think we're going to find much here."

They all glance over, smiles fading, but it's Pidge who speaks up first. "What're we looking for anyway?"

"At this point, I'd say we're looking for any sign of life around here. We know the altean monastery used to be on this island, we just don't know where or how to find it," Matt says, leaning back on his hands, eyes on Shiro.

"You said they've been missing for thousands of years," Pidge says, slight frown as she stares at Shiro's back. Her voice softens. "Are we sure they're even still alive?"

"No," Shiro breathes out a long sigh. "But we have to hope. We have to make sure. The galra are still wary of them, and the galra fear nothing. That's as good of a reason as any to believe they're still alive."

"Maybe they don't want to be found?" Hunk shifts his weight as eyes turn to him. He busies himself with organizing the bound parchment in his hands, shifting them gently into his bag. "I mean, obviously they don't want to be found. That's why they've been missing for like, forever. But maybe they really don't want to be found? What if they don't want anything to do with us or Ionia?"

"We're not going to give them a choice," Keith says, perhaps a hair too sharply.

One of Shiro's ears swivel in his direction, and the look in his eyes is of exasperated fondness. "Everyone has a choice, Keith. We just need them to hear us out."

"What if they don't want to listen?"

"Then we'll just have to be super convincing, won't we?" Lance scrambles up the building, feet and hands finding easy holds in the woven and twisted bark of the tree. He pulls himself up to Keith's perch on a wide, flat expanse that serves as a roof and a ledge before the tree continues to spiral upwards.

He hooks an arm over Keith's shoulders, leaning into him and offering a curl of his lips. He leans in close, breath whispering against the fur of Keith's ears. "I've heard I'm very convincing."

A shiver runs down his spine, and while Keith says nothing, Lance seems pleased with himself nonetheless.

"Do we have any idea where the monastery is?" Pidge asks, looking to Matt who only shakes his head.

"Unfortunately, no. Everything I've read and everyone I've talked to just says that it was located at the heart of the north eastern isle." He purses his lips, looking up at the trees that towered above them. "I was kind of hoping we'd just... wander around and eventually find someone who could point us in the right direction. Ask the locals, you know? Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. Everything I've read about explorers trying to find the monastery says it's impossible. Like the whole place just disappeared without a trace."

"How does a whole monastery and civilization just..." Hunk waves a hand around vaguely. "Disappear?"

Shiro steps closer to where they gather near the fountain. His brows crease as he stares at the moss covered stonework, tail twitching behind him. "The Alteans were known to be masters of magic. From legends, we know that they were apart of an ancient order dedicated to keeping the balance in Ionia. They watched over spiritual gates and the ley lines. It's entirely possible that it's magic that's keeping them hidden."

"Cool, so we just gotta find a magically hidden ancient civilization," Hunk says, nodding as he closes up his bag and swings it over his shoulder once more. "Easy. No problem."

Pidge turns to Matt, and even from here, Keith can see the clockwork turning behind her eyes. "Do you think we could reverse engineer our magic analyzer to seek magic instead? Like read the levels in the air?"

Keith watched that brilliant spark of magic light up Matt's eyes. "Because if they're being hidden by magic, then there's gotta be a huge concentration of it."

"That would at least lead us in the right direction."

They keep going. A back and forth with no end. Finishing each other's thoughts and sentences. That precious madness flaring between them. Then Hunk joins a grounding force that allowed them to grow. Keith doesn't understand most of what they're saying, but he supposes he doesn't need to.

Shiro looks about as lost as he feels, but he's at least making an attempt to understand.

"I think we're going about this the wrong way." Lance's voice is light and thoughtful, soft enough to be kept private. Keith tilts his head, eyeing him sidelong and lifting a brow to show he has his attention. He watches Lance's profile as he frowns, brows furrowing as he tilts his head. He gestures to those below. "We're going about this like humans."

"The Alteans are human."

The pinch between his brows relaxes, and his lips start to ease upwards. "True, but they weren't blind, nor were they deaf." Lance tilts his head, catching Keith's gaze. There's a sharpness there, and a gleam in his smirk. "Shiro said they were masters of magic and keepers of spiritual gates. What are we, Keith?" His voice dips, and a shiver runs through Keith.

He feels his own lips curl in an answering grin.

Lance steps away from him, arm leaving Keith's shoulder but hand running down his arm to clutch at Keith's as he turns to face him. "We're children of the spirit realm. They might be masters of magic, but we're born from it. I think it's time we stop acting like humans and start acting like vastaya."

His fingers curl between Keith's, grin wide and fangs glinting in the light peeking between the trees. Keith smirks, heart beating wildly in his chest. He understands.

He drops to a crouch, pulling Lance with him. Lance drops at his side, allowing the tug to drag him down. Keith presses their joined hands to the bark beneath them, smooth and woven and ancient, but still very much alive.

He closes his eyes.

He breathes out.

He feels his magic swirl in his core. Bright and vibrant. Harsh warm hues. Warming to deeper purples and indigos and violets.

He feels Lance's magic next to him. Nearly as bright as his own. Washing over him. Cool and soothing. Grounding as it is chaotic. Powerful and rolling. Strength hidden in the illusion of calm. Blues of every shade, swirling and igniting together.

He feels the clash where their hands touch. The sparks where their energies connect. Arcing toward each other. Unable to resist. Unable to stop the attraction, even on a molecular level.

Reaching out, he feels the energy humming through the tree. Chases it down to the earth, where the ley lines run thick and uninhibited. They fracture outward. A spiderweb of fissures that run endless through the ground. He feels where the plant life draws from them. He feels the way it radiates from the earth into the air.

He feels the forest.

He feels the animals.

He feels the ley lines.

He feels the minor spirits that drift through the trees and hover just out of reach, drawn and curious by their presence.

He feels... something stronger. A tug. A distant pull. Something calling to him, but not in any manner he's familiar with. Faint and fleeting. A whispered question.

He snaps his eyes open, gaze locking with Lance's. His eyes are bright. Crinkling at the edges. Dancing with the dust motes.

"You felt it." It's not a question.

Lance's smile curls wide. "Yes."

"What is it?"

"Only one way to find out."

They leap from their perch, darting off into the village with hands still joined. He can hear the others' shouts of surprise. He can hear the questions. He ignores their fading voices, focusing on that distant tug.

They weave through the village, darting between trees that shape homes. Abandoned and empty husks within the woven trunks. Though the shadows and the rays of light drifting down from between branches.

Lance slows at his side. "I lost it."

Keith's hand tightens around his. "I didn't."

He still feels it. Getting stronger and stronger. He realizes that he's following the ley lines. That they're all converging on a point ahead. He pushes his pace. Feet barely touching the grass-lined cobblestones. Lance runs at his side until Keith pulls ahead. Until his hand slips from Keith as Keith darts ahead. Faster. Faster. Faster.

He stops when he reaches another clearing. Another square within the village. He stops suddenly, brought up short by a feeling in his gut. His momentum carries his wing forward, feathers rustling as they settle back down his back.

The ley lines pool here, creating a small wellspring that was no doubt once the village's heart. At the center of the village square is a pillar of stone. It rises from the earth, somehow looking natural despite the deliberate craft to it. The smooth spiral and twisting rise of it.

He steps closer, eyes narrowing at the symbols carved around the pillar. He doesn't recognize them, but he feels like he should.

He feels a presence. A sudden power that makes his hair stand on end and his feathers bristle.

He spins into a crouch, wing automatically flaring out and fingers combing through his feathers, plucking three at random. Magic sparks at his fingertips, sharpening and steeling them.

His eyes lock onto a creature that hovers at the edge of the square, tucked into the shadows of two buildings.

A spirit.

A powerful spirit at that.

Keith can feel the energy radiating from them. Cold on his tongue and washing over his skin like water. Strangely soothing, but sharp enough to keep him on edge. The spirit's body, while corporeal, seems to blur at the edges. Wisps of mist curling from it and obscuring its form. Blue of all shades, swirling and shifting and constantly in motion.

The form of... a lion? Certainly a cat of some sort. Body large. Ears pointed and curled at the tips. Tail thin and flickering, a tuft of hair at the end. Features sharp in places that seem odd and rounded at others. A feline, yes, but definitely a spirit creature.

It stares at Keith, and Keith stares black. Unblinking. Wary. It doesn't feel malicious, but he can never be too certain. Spirits rarely mean harm, especially to vastaya, but he fears if he looks away, the magnificent creature will disappear.

It's gaze, however, is fixed to him. Eyes dark and endless as the night sky. Drawing him in. Seeing through him. Taking the weight of his soul and measuring it.

His breath is caught in his lungs.

Then there's a rustle behind him. A familiar press of cool magic. A soft inhale, and a gentle rush of air. "Whoa..."

The spirit's eyes leave Keith's, snapping to Lance instead. Keith finds himself still unable to move. Waiting, though he isn't sure for what.

A flash of blue in the corner of his eye. "Lance," He hisses, but Lance is already moving forward.

His steps aren't wary, but they're slow. Deliberate. He moves forward with the same grace that fills his every movement, swaying up to the spirit with a confidence that lacks cockiness. When he nears, he drops to his knees, holding his hands out.

And Keith watches, amazed and awed, as the spirit moves forward. As it bumps its head into Lance's hands. As Lance laughs, hands running through the mane of mist.

Lance cradles the spirit's feline head in his hands, leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

Keith hears the clatter of footsteps, loud in the silence. The voices of their friends. He hears their heavy breathing and loud arrival. He hears them stop behind him. Their soft gasps.

"What's... what's he doing?" Hunk asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Lance turns then, head whipping around and grin catching the light as his eyes dance. "Guys! I know where we need to go!"

Keith feels a tug at his lips. "He's asking the locals."

[the-colony-roleplay]

☭ FEVER STATE: “COMPROMISED SYSTEM”☭ stage ii

For a moment—a tortuously fleeting moment—things appeared to be looking up for Col22 citizens.

It actually mildly surprised medical staff when, by the afternoon of Wednesday, January 5th, the third day of sickness, some of the fevers were very slowly starting to subside earlier than expected, and for a handful of the Colony’s sickest, the worst of it seemed to be rounding the bend behind them. Sickness lingered, as it would and was expected to for at least another three days, but some citizens had seen the peak of what their illness would become, and could look forward to feeling progressively better as the days went on and they were finally able to keep down fluids and some less-solid foods. Finally not dry-heaving long enough to actually get a few hours’ much needed rest.

But much like the onset of the sickness, this new beast started slowly—picking off a couple individuals at a time, going unnoticed at first, and largely unreported—then rearing its head and taking over all at once.

Wednesday night was the first time someone put a voice to fears they’d juggled with since the morning: something was very, very wrong with their so-called ‘Infection’. In fact, by nightfall, they weren’t able to use their infected ability at all.

As it would turn out—they were not the only one. There were others who’d started to notice these symptoms as well, but hadn’t yet said it out loud, be it for fear it was not but their imaginations, or that it was not likely to get worse—or perhaps for fear of making it real. For fear of what it could mean.

By Thursday morning, however, the putting off of acknowledging it changed nothing: all Infected citizens were reportedly experiencing fluxes of control with their Infections—having to strain to use their ability in even the simplest form with a sputtering in and out of results; like an electric engine puttering in a desperate wheeze, well beyond time for a recharge, trying in vain to press forward—until it chugs to a pathetic, whining and whirring stop.

And so is how it went with the infections, as well. When Thursday night at Colony 22 falls, all evidence of any Infected citizen having any unnatural or ‘evolved’ power at all has been wiped away. No strength to move without touch, no speaking without tongues, no invasive tapping into the emotions of others. Even the Deluded cease to experience ‘symptoms’ of their delusions, though each case where they are concerned is a little different, due to the nature of their unique so-called ‘abilities’.

It would appear as though the Infected have been stripped of whatever it is that makes them different—and naturally, it sends everyone into a panic. Even the NWRF. Some might say especially the NWRF.

Thursday Jan 6th, through Saturday the 8th, Infected citizens of all subclasses are spending hours upon hours each day undergoing emergency testing—blood tests, scans, MRIs—absolutely any kind of data collection lab researchers (both NWRF aligned and otherwise) can get their hands on, because no one knows what this means, how exactly this could have been caused—or how long it will last.

Could this possibly be a permanent change? Was there something in the parasite that ate away at whatever it was the mysterious gasses of both Fallings changed in so many of the remaining human race? Were the ‘Evolved’ simply no more? Or is this a temporary side effect? Would the Infections return, and if so, when, and would they be just as they were before, or would they evolve again in some way? Grow stronger, even?

Was this sudden absence of Infection something that could be replicated? Bottled? Sold?

The questions were endless, as were the tests. Lab researchers, techs, medics and scientists would lose sleep over the next three days, up into all hours of the night pouring over results and data, trying to piece together meaning, uncover answers never before uncovered.

Meanwhile—the Infected and all their supporters try in vain not to panic. For the question remains: is this a beginning or an end?

A/N: There you have it darlings! Part 2 of this new, 2019 plot drop. And though you will see updates as this stage progresses and unfolds, plus a wrapping of sorts down the road when the timeline moves forward, etc, this will be the last of the time-constrained ‘event-style’ portion of this drop, at least for a while. But more on that later—for the time being:

Welcome to: ☭ FEVER STATE: COMPROMISED SYSTEM ☭ { stage ii } !!

This post marks the beginning of stage two, and shifts the timeline forward to January 5th through January 8th. This means that though you may continue all old threads, you may not start any new threads from stage one.

All NEW threads must be between Wednesday morning, January 5th, and Saturday night, January 8th. There will be no exceptions to this. But, as always, and to reiterate, you may continue all old threads as long as you need!

This time window will continue until you see a post here on the main with updates to this portion of the plot line and officially moving the timeline forward. Once this stage is ‘complete’, the RP timeline will open back up to the regular vague and approximate week-by-week approach, relatively open and flexible until such a time that the next plot drop is released, which might not be a for a while.

Here is a quick summary of events so far regarding the Fever State drop. In bold, is what is currently open to start new threads about.

MONDAY, January 3rd - All citizens start to get sick to varying degrees throughout the day, regardless of what was or wasn’t eaten. The sickest are kept in the infirmary for close monitoring and hooking up to IVs, and those whose fevers are not as high and who are able to keep down more fluids are confined to their houses instead, mostly tended to in their dorm rooms by rotating medical staff.

TUESDAY, January 4th, 11:00am - Colony Wide Recall Notice; informing citizens of flour recall, details regarding what can be expected of the parasite symptoms and that it should run its course within the space of roughly seven days.

WEDNESDAY, January 5th, morning - Some infected start to experience inconsistencies and strange ‘brown outs’ with their Infection abilities.

Wed, Jan 5th, night - The first official reports about fluctuating control of Infection abilities arise, word begins to spread.

THURSDAY, January 6th, morning - All Infected citizens (Deluded included) are experiencing a gradual and unpredictable ceasing of control/strength of their Infection abilities, to varying degrees. Some of them stopping completely. 

Thurs, Jan 6th, all day - emergency lab testing for the Infected commences

Thurs, Jan 6th, night - By the end of the day, all Infected abilities are seemingly gone.

FRIDAY, January 7th through SATURDAY, January 8th, inclusive - Testing continues. Standard symptoms of parasite have started to subside across the board. People are released from the Infirmary, classes and chores are slowly reintroduced. Uninfected slowly begin to feel normal again. The Infected, however, though they start to feel less sick, still have no traces of their infection abilities.

Currently, you may not RP past Saturday night.

Additionally, as with previously, new threads must be TITLED somehow to reflect the current stage (Stage two). Again, that can be done in a variety of ways, including somehow indicating the “Fever State” plot drop and the stage number, or indicating the stage title itself, so in this case “Compromised System”. Remember you have the freedom to indicate this however you wish, so long as you DO indicate it somehow. For examples from the first stage, which would apply similarly to this stage, please check out this post.

On the main blog we will continue to us #col22feverstate for all posts regarding this plot drop, and we will also be using #col22FScomp for posts regarding this stage. You can use these tags for your personal posts and organization as well if you want, but you are not required to (just remember to keep titles of your threads clear!)

☭  INDIVIDUAL CHARACTER VARIATIONS: ☭

Like last time, it’s up to you to decide the details surrounding how/when your character is affected by these new developments, so long as they remain congruent with the canon narration and timeline provided above. For characters of any status, you can decide when they start to feel a bit better, though this is bound to fluctuate dramatically across the board, and some will still be pretty darn sick even as the weekend approaches.

For Infected characters, you can decide if they were one of the ones who noticed changes earlier on Wednesday, if they were one of the ones who reported it to an Official that night, or if they maybe heard about it that night but kept their mouths shut. Alternatively, maybe they didn’t notice anything with their own abilities until Thursday. However, by Thursday morning, all Infected are noticing these effects in some way.

If you have a deluded character, feel free to get creative with how their ‘delusion’ is affected, but remember it is about stripping the ‘symptoms’ of their delusion away, or their so-called ability. So, for Orson, it’s not that he suddenly believes his Delusion was untrue all along, but that he stops actively seeing visions of death when he touches someone. For Roy, perhaps he stops hearing Death’s voice in his head. For Annie, maybe she still believes she’s in a nightmare of sorts, but she doesn’t experience the ‘tells’ of her sleeping state anymore. But these are just examples—you can decide for yourselves how you want to play it out, and feel free to run stuff by the mods if you want guidance!

☭  STATE OF THE COMMUNITY: ☭

As already mentioned, the return of normal colony schedules will be very gradual. Lots of people are still sick, but the infirmary will slowly thin out as Saturday approaches, and though some group classes/therapy sessions etc may be reinstated, not all will be at this stage. Additionally, there will be a considerable amount more testing going on for Infected citizens, and the general environment of Colony 22 will be rather frenzied, chaotic and tense due to the new developments and panic, but also somewhat sluggish, do to lingering illnesses and lack of regular schedules. Lab techs and researchers will be working day and night, rumours will be spreading, Colony officials will be tight lipped and reluctant to release information before it is confirmed, or to speak out of turn. NWRF reps will be a bit manic, dealing with lots of back and forth between other local reps, other colonies who were subjected to this parasite, and Headquarters.

This time window will continue until you see further updates from the main blog. As always, please bring any and all event-related questions to the MAIN BLOG ASK. Additionally, if you have any ideas or things you want to contribute with regards to this plot and your character, feel free to come to us! We are more than happy to help and there is some room as this plot develops to incorporate member contribution of ideas!

Alright, happy plotting friends! Ta for now!

xxCol22Mods

[edelwary]

when you were first getting into art, what and how did you draw? (like did you just doodle ur masterpieces on pieces of paper and posted-notes or did you have a proper sketchbook) how did you find motivation? bc ive been trying to draw but I always get unmotivated and stop while still wanting to get better just by doing nothing.

REALLY LONG, LOTS OF ADVICES FOR ARTISTS : 

TL;DR ; skip to the HOW TO ACTUALLY FUCKING DRAW part bc i have a megaton of shit to say lol + The MOTIVATION part 

mmh… I’ll get into details with this one tbh bc it’s a long ass process ahah : 

I live by the sea ; when i was youung i used to draw TONS of boat, but like, dollhouse boats, you could see the insides and stuff ; i loved to add tiny details and stuff, and imbricate everything together !

around 8 or 9 yo, i went to the public library with school and discovered the wonderful world of mangas ! I basically… Copy pasted an entire Mermaid Melody tome x) 

For about 2 years i alternated between reading mangas and trying to copy them ! Then i just kept drawing in the margins of my schoolwork for about… 5 years ! I have a Fuck Ton of sketchbooks of that time, it was… The start. Lol. Never say it’s bad because it’s never bad, just not there yet !!

Around my 13 yo, i went every saturday, for two years, under a bookstore ; there was a cave, and drawing classes ; that teacher was mean and harsh and stuff, but like… Not really. He would take away my eraser for the class, force me to use pencil, to draw something else (bulky boys instead of magical girls). 

I’ve learned a lot, more in terms of How To LEARN to draw than to draw itself, but i still progressed a LOT !! 

Then i kept drawing by myself for a year and i really worked hard on it ; about hours a day, trying watercolors and stuff ; i have a real problem with colors in traditionnal art, but i’m much better with lines (i should scan some RAD stuff i made in the weekend, yall ive never done anything this good i stg i dont know why i always forget im so much better on paper) 

This gets us to my sweet 16 ; i have to year of advance, bc i got ‘’’promoted’’’ idk how to say it ; anyways, i entered my (current) animation school for the first year at 16; vERY IMPRESSIVE AND TERRIFYING. 

And i learned. A fuckmegaton. Of shit there. 

Now i’m going for my third year there and i can make photorealistic marmora blades and cyberkpunk decors if i want to and that’s rad, but here is

 HOW TO ACTUALLY FUCKING DRAW : 

I have one HYPER important advice, and i’m keeping it to heart since i’m like, 11 : Have. Sketchbooks. Please !!! It’s very important. Here’s why : 

You keep everything with you in one place. You have 1 sketchbook, it’s basically easy to take every where (a A5, or A4 are pretty easy to carry, i have like, 12 of those, and around 8 of A3) 

You keep track of what you’ve done. It’s super important, bc first you can cry of laughter at your old stuff bc its cute but not so good, and second, you can just be like ‘holy mama’ and see how much you’ve improved

It’s very important to be organized. I WORK in art, and trust me, if there’s something that i’ve learned this year through tears and missing files and bugs : Be. Impeccable. Now if it’s for fun, go a little loose, and just have a folder for art on your computer, and a sketchbook, no need to stress, but the better you try to keep a record of where is what, the better you’ll see whats wrong

Notebooks are friends !! You can draw, write, glue stuff, make notes, lists, everything !!! I have my life in those. It’s more important to me than any of my phones. 

Be proud of it. Like, not everything, duh ! But try to tell yourself than it’s like a RPG ; even if it’s only 2 xp here and there, one day you’ll beat level 40, and that’s super important : art is. Fuckin. Long.

I cant stress it enough. It’s soooo long !!! SO LONG !! it’s years. It’s like karate and fishing and ANYTHING. To be good at it, it takes time, but it WILL COME if you keep trying. There’s no secret passage. 

You’re gonna me it, believe in me who believes in you. 

Use. References. 

Coming from a little shit who’s got a really good visual memory, that can sound like bs, but i stg everything is always AT LEAST twice as good if you’ve used a visual support. 

I’m not saying COPY EVRYTHING (even though thats a good training) I’m saying, if you really want to do that asian tiger, please have at least two or three pictures of it nearby. Take photos of your hands, and stuff ! 

Make it harder. 

No eraser. 

Paint. 

I draw all my backgrounds on my sketchbook with INDIAN INK; no returns, no refunds. 

Ink, Ink, INK !! Don’t allow mistakes.

And if you make mistakes :

New page, restart

It’s okay

It’s for you

I once started back again a whole EXAM bc it was bad, i got one of my best grades 

You’ll improve and be more assured if you know you just have to DO IT. Trust me. It’s VISIBLE; if you can erase, you fidget and hesitate and ‘’kbeujebez hahhaaa idkkidsd’’ ; stop ; do it, and if you don’t like it ? Try again, there’s no time limit

Draw as large as you can 

There’s no interesting story here, it just helps. Bigger movement of the hand, more place for details, breathing lines

Thin lineart helps

Thinner. Make it even thinner

Break the rules, but not the ones that structure your art 

Big lineart ? Why not

Unfinished lines, vaporeous colors ? Pretty

Cubism is actually based on extensive and intense practice of classical art, it’s not wibbly wooblly ; the anatomy is more correct than you think 

Structure and composition are important, but so is movement and life ; choose your fighter ; mine is fluidity and fun, i’m like, a rogue/archer in drawing. Some people are dwarf fighter. That’s amazing and great. 

Don’t be afraid to do nothing

Pages and pages of my sketchbooks are actually just lance facing right and smiling, you know… 

Sometimes it just doesnt work : two ways :

Take a break, Kiki’s delivery service style

Keep trying, break your art until it obeys and comes back

Take breaks. Breath. 

Don’t compare. I do it, it doesn’t help at all. You’ll make it ; and if you compare, keep in mind that everyone’s different

I’m not gonna lie, it’s NOT easy, it’s even hard 

But I really, really think it’s worth it 

MOTIVATION :

My main bitch 

I’m always pumped for art because i can LITTERALLY NOT do anything else ; i love reading and writing and stuff but at the end of the day i just want !!! to draw !!!! aaaaaa-

Fall in love with it, and with the possibilities ; i have stories to tell, tell me yours ! Do your best, one day it WILL work

Actual advices : 

I have an inspiration blog where i just reblogs stuff i like to draw them later

Find a picture, copy it. Do it again. Change the characters (i have 2 ocs and Lance and Keith as default characters) in the pic. 

Like an artstyle ? Break it to its very core, analyse it, copy it, redo it, trace it and ABSORB it. Don’t copy/past, LEARN from your heroes.

Do what you like. I have 86578 pieces of voltron, this is not a coincidence. I have ENDLESS ideas for this show, wtf. 

Try new things. Buy indian ink im begging you. It’s so cool. 

Have a game with yourself, or a challenge. STICK TO IT. 

Study. When you’re bored, usually it’s because you’re stagnating. Make it harder or do hands until you cry. 

Love your backgrounds; make backgrounds, study trees, and tokyo streets, and venice’s bridges. Decor is just as cool as characters, if not more

Mess a little with everything. My roomate more than one found me stained from head to toes trying to DO STUFF 

Draw outfits. Draw what you want but can’t afford 

MAKE YOUR LIFE A COMIC. Remember those sketchbooks ? Make a comic a week/month/every full moon, whatever, and draw your life (mine’s the roomates au lol) 

Prompts blogs are cool too 

Make fanart of a fic you liked ; you have the characters and the pose already, you just have to illustrate ; double bonus, you probably will make a writer’s day, if not year !

That little movie that plays when you listen to your favorite song ? DRAW IT

Your favorite scene in your favorite movie ? Redraw each shot. On post it. Plus it looks awesome afterwards to have the infamous TREX scene of Jurassic Parks in post it

Get bored. That’s inevitable. Dance, scream, get back to it. Walk, draw everything you see. 

Make a paper google map street view : Take a walk : every 50 meters, draw what is in front of you. 

Snapchats your friends. Draw their snapchats when they answer 

Draw maps. Invent places. Invent bikes, and hovercrafts, and monsters. Make your everyday inventory. Make your life a video game, and do the concept arts of it. 

FETCH your inspiration. I have approx. 20 artbooks, full of drawings and concept arts of my fave movies/games ; take what you like and add it to the story you have since you’re 8. We all have one. 

Ask for it ; your sis, your mom, me even ! If you dont have ideas, someone will have them. 

WELL i’m gonna stop there, even though i got like, 9864567 more to say, but with this you should be fine ! Anon, i’m rooting for you ! we all start somewhere, just hold on!!!! 

[postedbygaslight]

You’ll Be the One to Turn - Part 12: The Pilot

And here he is, everyone’s favorite “best pilot in the Resistance,” Mr. Poe Dameron:

“But, sir! If the load lifters’ binary language circuits aren’t reset to the default dialect, they’ll continue to deliver their loads to the wrong entrances! It would present a serious supply chain interruption and Princess Leia will—“

“Hey! That’s a great idea! You should take this to Leia.”

“But, General, the princess is no longer—“

“Threepio, if you don’t stop talking to me about the damn load lifters, I’m going to kill myself.”

“Well, I never! I’m only ever trying to be of help, the nerve of some people,” Threepio trailed off as he clattered off down the corridor.

Poe Dameron didn’t watch the droid leave; it was easy enough to know what Threepio was chattering about as he disappeared down the hall: a litany of self-pity, imagined slights, and decades of grievances. Why droids were programmed with such irritating idiosyncrasies, Poe would never understand. But maybe that was the point. Maybe droids needed to be more human to keep from making mistakes.

Poe returned his attention to the reports he had been scanning when Threepio came banging his way into the command center, yammering about obscure machine languages. He reviewed them one by one, each telling a similar story: encouraging signs of unrest against the First Order, but little enthusiasm for organized rebellion.

Each of the documents took far longer to digest and approve than he cared for. Being in command was all he’d ever wanted, having grown up on Yavin IV in the company of Alliance war heroes. But the reality of leading was less attractive than its billing. Most days, Poe wished he could just pass off command to someone else so he could go back to piloting an X-Wing full time. Though, he thought, if he was still just a pilot, he’d probably be chafing under command decisions he didn’t agree with, and the cycle would continue.

His job, as it was, had taken unexpected turns over the previous months. Leia had passed command to him much sooner than he would have expected. And the fight he’d expected to be leading was nothing like he’d envisioned. The First Order was no longer as constant a presence in the core systems as they’d been even a month before, and their troop deployments were more scattershot than was typical. It made Poe nervous. The conflict should be escalating. Instead, it seemed like the First Order was in the midst of a controlled retreat.

But it wasn’t like the Resistance was ready for a showdown. The fleet was nowhere near fighting form, constituted primarily of decommissioned Imperial ships, half-junked freighters, two dozen X-Wings of somewhat dubious flight readiness, and ancillary vessels that lacked a cruiser to support. Worse than that, the First Order had been broadcasting to the galaxy that the Battle of Crait had been a total victory, and that the Resistance had been wiped out.

It was a development neither Poe nor Leia had anticipated. Like the Empire, the First Order didn’t typically suffer any kind of defiance, regardless of its size. But since Crait, Poe felt like he was leading a movement in search of a cause. They took every precaution to makes sure they weren’t discovered— Vedic III was chosen precisely because it would be hard to find— but Poe couldn’t shake the feeling that their enemies weren’t even looking for them. And that troubled him more than relentless pursuit.

As he looked around the command center, Poe considered that the First Order might have a point: it was almost like they didn’t exist. What had been a small, but capable fleet had been utterly destroyed after Crait. A private army of two thousand, well funded, with connections in the New Republic, the Resistance had been a serious threat to First Order operations. But, more than that, it had been something Snoke couldn’t afford to ignore because of one very important distinction: it was led by the sister of Luke Skywalker. The last of the Jedi.

Now Luke was dead. And instead of two thousand, the Resistance barely numbered two hundred. And whatever support was coming, it was coming because of the story of Luke facing down the First Order alone, giving his life for the cause, and, crucially, leaving behind an heir to his powers and teachings. And the girl who was meant to be the symbol of their fight might have died in the training yard yesterday. It was a problem he couldn’t afford to ignore any longer.

“Lieutenant,” Poe called across the room, “has anyone seen Rey?”

Lieutenant Connix looked up from her terminal as though she’d been startled awake.

“Uhm,” she started, glancing around, “I think I heard someone say she was going to see Leia.”

“How long ago was that?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

Poe squinted and pinched the bridge of his nose. He glanced back at the last report he’d read, and an idea suddenly flashed through his mind.

“Hey, Connix, come here a second.”

The young officer, who still kept her hair in tight buns on either side of her head, stood up from her terminal and crossed to where Poe was sitting.

“Yes, General?”

“Cut it with the ‘General’ stuff. It’s me. Poe,” he said with a smile, motioning for her to sit.

“Sorry,” she stuttered, sitting in the chair next to him. “I’ll try to remember, sir— uh, I mean, Poe.”

“We intercepted a coded message on the First Order’s emergency channel. Normally, I wouldn’t be too interested, but this one was picked up immediately by high command.”

Connix crinkled her nose. “That is odd.”

Poe leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

“Yeah. It is. I don’t like it. The First Order codex. Didn’t we keep a record of when D.J. hacked it?”

“Sir, that codex changes hourly. Er, uh, Poe. I meant Poe.”

“But we could use the record as a road map to hack it again.”

“That’s,” Connix began, nervously fidgeting with her hands, “not really how it works. Or, maybe it does, but not the way you’re thinking.”

“So you can’t do it.”

“I didn’t say— I could maybe—“

“Kaydel,” he said, getting her attention.

“What did you call me?”

“Your name. Kaydel.”

Connix stopped fidgeting.

“I know you can do this. I believe in you.”

“A-all right. General. I mean, sir. I mean— damn it.”

Poe gave her a warm smile, and then turned back to his terminal. He was about to power down and head out to the tarmac when he saw Rey through the windows of the command center, passing down the hall from Leia’s room.

“Rey!” he yelled.

She stopped, and looked at him through the window. Poe got up and crossed to the door, leaning around into the hall.

“Hey, I was looking for you. Can we talk for a minute?”

“Sure.”

Rey turned back down the hall, and into the command center. Poe motioned her into he adjoining office, and he followed behind, closing the door.

“What is it, Poe?”

“First off, how are you feeling?”

Rey sighed and crossed her arms.

“I’m fine.”

“Whoa. Sorry.”

“No,” Rey said, letting her hands drop to her sides. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t— thank you for the concern. I’m fine.”

“Okay. Good.”

“You needed something?”

“I just want to get an idea of what’s going on here.”

“Meaning?”

Poe put his hands on his hips and leaned in slightly, trying not to seem overly agitated. He wasn’t sure it was working. And he knew Rey could sense his anxiety, which wasn’t making matters better.

“We’ve been on this moon for over a month. And you’ve been, what? Running supply missions? Reconnaissance?”

“They’re missions that need done. I do them. What’s this about?”

“‘What’s this about?’” he repeated back, letting out a frustrated laugh. “I don’t need you to run supply missions. I have people to do that.”

Rey crossed her arms again, and her eyes narrowed.

“Is there something you want to say to me? Because if there is, I’d rather just have it out.”

“Fine. We’ve been hanging on by our fingertips out here. People don’t even think we exist. We’ve gotten traction mostly because the story about Luke facing down Kylo and the First Order has caught on. But for that to keep up, we need the Jedi Order. And that’s supposed to be you.”

“It’s not just something I can snap my fingers and make happen,” Rey said, her voice rising. “What am I supposed to do? A traveling show where I tell fortunes and make things float?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not supposed to be the one that knows these things. You are.”

“It’s not like Luke left a manual for me with step-by-step instructions.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“Oh, and what do you hear?”

“That you have some Jedi scripture or something. Some texts. Books with information we could use.”

“I suppose you’d like to try reading them, then. Do you think they’re in standard Aurebesh? They’re in some language that’s probably been dead for five thousand years. Not even Threepio could read them.”

Poe had to laugh. C3PO had just been in here complaining about not being able to talk to load lifters because of their accents, and imagining him trying to read sacred religious texts was more than just comedy. It was farce.

“What I’m hearing is an explanation without a plan,” Poe said, trying his best to keep his frustration from boiling over into real anger. He felt less in control than he was accustomed to, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was doing something to make him more uneasy. “Are you with us? Because I get the feeling that you’re just here because you have nowhere else to go.”

Rey’s expression hardened, but there was real hurt in her eyes. She took a few calming breaths, and responded.

“All right. This is the part where you say you’re under a lot of stress, and you didn’t mean that, and you take that back.”

“No, I don’t think so. You’re the last Jedi. As in the only one. And yesterday, you keeled over like you were a green recruit. What do we do if something happens to you? Huh?”

“Poe. I fainted. It was stupid to train in the heat like that for so long. I grew up in the desert. I ought to know better.”

“That’s not what worries me. What worries me is that you’ve been acting like you’re an engineer. Or a freighter pilot. You’ve been training against droids that don’t have safety protocols—“

“They’re too easy to beat otherwise.”

“That’s my point! Why are you fighting droids at all? You should be out there, we should be out there, taking the fight to the First Order! You should be leading. Instead, you’re out in the training yard fighting droids that wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you when you passed out.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’d beaten them all by then.”

“And what about next time?”

“Who says there’s going to be a next time?”

“I don’t want to have to worry that there will be!”

A silence fell between them, as though some kind of gauntlet had been dropped, and they were both waiting for the other to pick it up.

“Maybe you ought to stop pinning all your hopes on me,” Rey said with a calm resolve. But Poe could see her composure was slipping, and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. “I’m doing what I can. I’m trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do. I’m trying to keep myself from losing my mind while I try to understand what the Force wants from me. I’ve got unreadable books and a broken lightsaber and no one to help me.”

Her mention of the broken lightsaber reminded him that she still hadn’t been debriefed about what happened on the Supremacy. Poe’s uneasiness sharpened, and he couldn’t help but feel that she was reading his thoughts right then and there. Rey took a half step toward him, and gestured down toward the corridor.

“If you need someone to inspire your cause, you’ve got her. She’s right down the hall, and she’s twice the woman I’ll ever be.”

“Rey, Leia’s dying.”

“What?”

“Dying. She doesn’t have much time.”

They’d known for weeks. Leia might have known longer. But it didn’t change the fact that the tumors were inoperable. And it didn’t change the fact that radiation sickness was slowly sapping her of her strength. It was anyone’s guess which would overwhelm her first, but both diagnoses carried the same promise: death, and soon.

“When she got blown out of the bridge on the Raddus, she should have died. She didn’t. We were very lucky. But she was in deep space for over two minutes. That kind of radiation doesn’t come without consequences. Leia might be one of a kind, but she’s still only human.”

Poe could see that Rey wasn’t prepared for that news. Good, he thought. Maybe this would spur her to action. And even if it didn’t, at least Poe wasn’t carrying this secret alone anymore. Not that it could be a secret much longer.

“Rey,” he continued, trying to bridge a span between urgency and inspiration, “we don’t have the luxury of waiting. I can’t put together an army to fight the First Order if we don’t have a cause worth fighting for.”

“If you don’t have a cause worth fighting for without me standing in front of you with a lightsaber,” Rey said slowly, and it looked like she was struggling to keep from letting the depth of her emotions show, “then the problem’s with you, not me. I’m not going to rush out and recruit students, or padawans, or whatever, if I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. You’re a pilot. Imagine starting a flight academy when you know how to fly, but not how to land.”

“Listen to me. I’m sorry if I seem harsh. But I have people who count on me. And they look to you as the light that’ll lead us into battle. And you could have died yesterday. Where would that leave us?”

“What do you want? Tell me. What should I do?”

He took a step toward her, his face becoming hard and serious.

“Start doing things because you can do them. Not because someone told you how.”

And that was that. Rey’s expression went cold and blank, her eyes glassed with angry tears.

“Are we done?”

“Yeah,” Poe said, motioning for the door. “I guess we are.”

***

Poe returned to the command center after Rey left, but not before spending some time thinking through exactly what to do about the Jedi girl in his camp. She was an invaluable asset, to be sure. And if she could get with the program, she could be the one thing that would turn the tide.

But she also painted them with a very bright target. Eventually, he was sure, the First Order would come for her. And when that happened, he didn’t know if they’d be able to protect her. More than that, he wondered if it was worth it at all.

He sighed and rubbed his temples, drifting over to where Connix was seated.

“Any luck?”

“Not with the codex, but I did find this.”

Poe leaned over her shoulder and looked at the screen.

“What the hell?”

“I know.”

“Keep this between us for now.”

“Yes, sir. I mean, Poe.”

Poe didn’t respond. What were those structures? And the orbital station? What was the First Order doing on Naboo?

[primortravel]

New Post has been published on https://primortravel.com/travel-2021-getting-started-again-solo-trekker/

Travel 2021-Getting Started Again | Solo Trekker

Travel 2021-Getting Started Again: Updated as of July 14, 2021: 

March 11, 2021 marked the one-year anniversary since the World Health Organization declared Coronavirus was a pandemic. For one-year much of the world’s commerce and travel has come to a halt.  However, as COVID-19 vaccinations within the United States and abroad have become widespread, summer vacation 2021 is back on albeit, at a lesser level than past years.

While many pandemic travel restrictions are being eased, many of us are still waiting to take our 2021 vacation. The good news is that as of July summer vacations are starting to roll out after finding the right destination. Those close to home, such as road trips and hiking national parks, have been top choices followed by Mexico and the Caribbean.

The long awaited good news is that most of Europe has just started to welcome foreign tourists. The challenge is that individual countries in the European Union have flexibility to make their own rules as well adding to the uncertainty. In addition, as conditions vary worldwide, there can be last minute changes before you leave home or while abroad.

Canada is still only open for essential travel.

Good News on the Cruise Front:  “Cruising is Back!”

On June 26, the Celebrity Edge, was the first large cruise ship to set sail from a US port since March 14, 2020. On that date, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention had issued a “No Sail” order.  The Edge with CDC agreement departed with 95 percent of its passengers and crew fully vaccinated.  Next Royal Caribbean International’s Freedom of the Seas sailed from Miami after successfully completing a test run under CDC guidelines.

Travel 2021-Getting Started Again:

While re-openings country by country and subsequent pauses are daily occurrences, we have compiled a select update of many of the most popular vacation spots. Be sure to research in detail online before booking, and get travel insurance. In the current climate, a CFAR or “Cancel for Any Reason” travel insurance policy can offer the broadest coverage.  Lastly, stay up-to-date on your destination’s current control over the coronavirus and whether their vaccination program has been successful.

The “List”:

Selective Tourist Destinations Open to US Travelers:

Central America

Mexico

Partial List of Popular Caribbean Destinations Now Open for Tourism:

South America:

Bolivia

Colombia

Ecuador

Peru

Select List of Major European Countries: For more details, see also: Re-Open EU:

Croatia

France

Germany

Greece

Iceland

Ireland

Italy

Spain

UK

Asia:

Japan: Olympics’ restrictions pending

Singapore

South Korea

Sri Lanka

Thailand

Africa:

Safaris are back on in some areas so it is time to look for 2021-2022 bargains. See our advice at:

Botswana

Egypt

Kenya

Morocco

South Africa

Tanzania – Take a look at exotic Zanzibar, part of Tanzania.  See also the Dhow Palace and Stone Town Beach as an ideal add-on after a safari.

Tunisia

Uganda

Zambia

Zimbabwe

For more country-specific tours, see Kayak.

Travel 2021-Getting Started Again:

Practical Advice – Know before you go:

Read the fine print: “Open to foreign tourists” can mean many things: (i) negative COVID-19 tests required, (ii) proof of vaccination, (iii) quarantine on arrival and/or (iv) special COVID-19 surcharges. For example, on the latter, Cambodia was charging an entry fee of $2,000 to cover the tourist’s potential cost for medical services. Beyond COVID-19, researching local and national regulations can be eye opening. For example, can you name the popular destinations where it is illegal to: (i) drive without an international driver’s license? (ii) bring with you certain personal prescription drugs legal at home? (iii) take photos of individuals without permission (excepting unrecognizable ones or crowded street scenes)?

No vacancies: Check out off-season offerings in national parks if they are already filled to capacity for this summer.

Major attractions: Even though many are reopening, still check to see if a reservation or ticket is needed. This can also apply to museums and other venues even where there is no charge.

Choose a tour or cruise: That way you can leave it to the travel provider to track the constantly changing country restrictions.

Going abroad: Book a single-country destination to skip being caught between shifting national restrictions.

Plan B: Consider having a backup or alternate destination in case your first choice destination falls through. For example, if your first choice is abroad, find one at home or closer to home.

Looking ahead to 2022: If you vacation plans are still on hold for 2021, take advantage of great 2022 deals being offered now.

If you choose a solo road trip for your summer vacation, take a look at our tips for the ultimate road trip in 2021. (Are you the member of an automobile club? Alternatively, are you prepared to change a tire on a remote byway?)

Consider travel by train both in North America and Europe. In the US, Amtrak Vacations include long-haul coast-to-coast journeys in style with private sleepers. See also our America Train – Solo Travel Adventures. In Europe, take a look at Great Rail Journeys.

Join a small ship cruise in the US to Alaska or a  luxury oceanliner by plane or rail to major ports. As long popular in Europe, local train services offer the most flexibility and can whisk you from an international flight to Europe’s top river cruises.

With the EU and many other countries looking to vaccination passports, get vaccinated if you have not already.  While some drug stores were giving a free service to laminate vaccination cards, I created my own plastic cover which could easily be reopened. Besides hanging on carefully to your certificate, scan a copy on your computer, photograph it on your phone and have your doctor make a copy as well.

“Not Home Alone for the Holidays”? Start now, and find a way to celebrate the holidays from solo adventure tours to singles cruises and holiday markets.

  Source link

#Backpacking #SoloTravel #SoloTraveling #Solotrekker #Travel #Traveling

[vantelieth-blog]

                        Vol.II Chapter IV: The World and the Visionary

“Come to think of it, I've never seen you drive before,” Yeula remarked as Farah jumped into the front seat of Yeula's car. “You sure you know what you're doing?”

“Do I look that inept to you?” Farah sighed while tinkering with the car's computer panel. “Just whip out your ID and I'll do the driving from there.”

Yeula brushed her sister's hand aside after taking the front passenger seat and proceeded to restart the engine using the car's finger print reader as before.

“That's sort of primitive for someone like you, don't you think?” Farah mused. “Or did I mishear you when you told me that you could issue commands for every computer you own with those headsets of yours?”

Yeula reclined on her seat. “Just hurry up and drive, will you?”

“Whatever you say, my endearing sister,” Farah sarcastically replied before setting off alongside the grounded traffic. “So, have you ever been to a public execution before?”

“Why would I? I hadn't even heard of it until recently. I thought practices like that died off ages ago.”

Upon stopping Yeula's car at a busy intersection with a four-faced automaton—Golem's standardized form of traffic control—in the center holding up a stop sign in their direction, Farah leaned closer to her sister. “It's an honor reserved for Class Four and up offenders, if FOG feels so inclined. They've been a little more selective since Prime District's fall, I've noticed; they've probably been too occupied with all the ongoing reconstruction to worry about something so trivial.”

Yeula looked up at the excess of sentries patrolling from above. “But South District's security's gotten tighter than ever since the disaster, I hear. What's the point in that?”

“The South is likely being used as a temporary capital for FOG, but I've heard the Haizer family still resides in Prime District. South District is Golem's second most developed city, you know.” As soon as traffic control gave her lane the green sign, Farah returned to the wheel and took a right. “So, regarding public executions, they've changed in some other ways, too; it's become more of a sport than a ritual done to make an example of the worst offenders. Some FOG operatives actually make a living from the pay of the crowd as they flock over to watch them mete out the death punishment.”

“It sounds primitive if you ask me,” Yeula remarked. She tilted her head to the left upon noticing a couple waving at them from the footpath, presumably involved with the Erenets in some way. The family had long grown so influential that such greetings from strangers was not uncommon for the more prominent operators. Even so, Yeula never much cared for extra publicity—her objective was all that mattered to her, and her whole family other than Farah was but a means to an end. She had, in many ways, become the woman she feared becoming as a child: an apathetic liar who simply used others for her own gain, yet knew full well how to win one's trust.

“And it's always important for us to remember how we may end up if we aren't careful,” Farah continued. “That's why I always enjoy exhibitions like this one.”

“We both know what you really get a kick out of,” Yeula responded, smirking half-heartedly.

Farah smirked. “And I always enjoy watching unrelated people suffer. What's so wrong with that?”

“That's just how you were raised, wasn't it?” Yeula mused, contemplating how she could have grown under her own parents' care. Perhaps she could not distinguish right from wrong as much as her parents would have wished, but all that mattered to her was that she knew what she wanted in life and how to see to her own goals. Her childhood had made her that strong, at least.

“Exactly,” Farah laughed. “Well, it's a story I've probably already told you a thousand times. I'm one of the very few Erenets today tied to the family by blood, as well as our father's first-born child, so it's only natural that I was raised to be his perfect successor for when the time comes. We have become something more of a 'criminal' organization than a family by now, obviously.”

The Colony of Golem was a colony with such rapidly evolving technology to overshadow the evolving needs of its denizens. As criminals continued to devise new ways of bypassing security, so too did Golem's security methods devise new ways of identifying such offender with little intervention from the Guard, Golem's most recognized law enforcement agency. Legal digital ID's were among FOG's most effective means of monitoring Golem civilians, allowing them to track any digital transaction as well as the operation of many devices requiring identification at any point, such as cars and even most computers. Sentries and other security automatons had become so advanced as to be capable of positively identifying any individual with a quick scan and uploading resultant data to the Guard. In such a digital age, a miscreant could scarcely go noticed in more developed regions for over a minute before they were identified, located and caught no more than thirty minutes following their committed crime; in such a digital age, hackers reigned the criminal underworld. Lesser criminals would often seek the assistance of such individuals with the power to exploit the system, earning a fake ID and allowing them to operate whilst untraceable by FOG. It was from that need that the Erenets became as reputable as they were, both as criminals and as freedom fighters.

“And for my talent, I was given the honor of being called your younger sister,” Yeula added.

“That's right, and I'll be counting on you to keep our family alive should something ever happen to me. I mean that, sis.”

The drive had taken the duo to a massive, festive square of the city with the wooden and barren executioner's stand in the center, around which a large crowd had gathered. Yeula watched Ferah as she parked Yeula's car against the footpath and jumped out, having contemplated those last words of hers. “I've told you this already, haven't I? Once I've gotten what I need from all of you, I'm heading solo. This organization is just a means to an end for me.”

Farah nodded, smiling. “Just don't let anyone but me hear that, okay? I mean, we're not like Fortitude; we're not going to send assassins after you or anything, but still… I wouldn't complain if you decided to stay with us after such a long time. We're the only family you have now, aren't we?”

“I didn't need a father and I've already proven that I don't need a mother, either,” Yeula sighed as she exited the car alongside Farah. “I can take care of myself.”

“I guess that's easy to say when you don't have to be alone,” Farah murmured, shrugging her shoulders and walking out toward the bustling square with Yeula following closely behind.

“Incoming!” a young man from the side exclaimed. Yeula barely had time to face his direction before he nearly collided with her on a skateboard, causing her to stumble. She practically gritted her teeth at the familiar sight of this crudely-dressed man sporting a red mohawk, who had stopped a short distance away waving at her.

“What the hell is—” Yeula paused upon recognizing the man. “Oh, Kelin,” she said in a dry tone. “Are you stalking me again?”

“Just riding around until the execution starts,” the man, Kelin, replied, waving his hands in the air in apology. “Just chill, all right?”

“Does it sound like I'm pissed off to you?” Yeula sighed. “And why have you been spamming my e-mail with party requests?”

The man gaped with surprise. “You mean you actually read them? I didn't think you cared.”

“I only 'care' enough to complain about it. Can't you listen?”

“Oh yeah, looks like you and I are makin' some progress!”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Yeula and Kelin,” Farah impatiently called without facing either one of them, “do we have to go through this same exchange every time you two run into each other? Can't I see a little coexistence between you two just for this one special occasion?”

“That's what I was planning on doing, Farah,” Yeula responded. “Now then, Kelin, try to behave and we can all grab something to eat while we wait for the execution, all right?”

Yeula's relationship with Kelin was not unlike her relationship with the majority of the Erenet family's initiates. Her close ties with the blood-relatives of the family earned her the envy of the lesser members, with many of them seeking her acknowledgment for little more than personal gain. The frequent friendly messages sent to her by operators she seldom heard of did little more than annoy the normally introverted woman.

Before the trio could possibly set off to feed themselves, each one of them in tandem gawked at a steel cage being carried on a roller to a ramp at the side of the executioner's stand by two men in black suits—FOG operatives to be sure. Without another word, the trio proceeded to disappear into the massive crowd that had gathered with anticipation. The primal cries of what seemed to be a beast of some sort could be faintly heard from within the cage, but Yeula could barely catch a glimpse beyond the steel bars in the front of the cage from where she stood.

“What's making that sound?” Kelin asked; a man in the crowd promptly shushed him.

“We won't know that until they bring it out,” Yeula whispered. “What I want to know is where the criminal is.”

And as if the FOG officers had heard Yeula's question, from behind the stand the chiseled and burned criminal, bound and gagged, limped forward with another pair of FOG officers by his side. With a harsh knee to the back, one of the FOG officers forced the criminal, who let out a muffled grunt, onto his knees. The FOG officers proceeded to back away toward respective corners of the stand with their arms crossed behind them as a rugged elderly man emerging from behind the stand sauntered over to the criminal. With a simple elevation of his hand, the old man silenced the excited crowd before speaking.

“In this fortress we know as Golem, there are those who deny and those who believe,” the old man began. “To deny is to rebel; to believe is to survive. To those standing before me I ask, in what do we believe? To believe in our dictators is to survive in this world, and to follow their decrees is to kowtow to the prosperity of the land we call our home. It is that mutual belief which has united us all to punish one who denies, as all such transgressions are best answered with satirical consequences… and humiliation therein.”

The old man flicked out a switchblade in his hand and proceeded to cut loose the gag around the criminal's mouth, letting out his incomprehensible cries for the amusement of the audience. Yeula could promptly see that the man's tongue had been severed from his maw. Tears rolled down his eyes as he struggled to no avail to put his final thoughts into words.

“This one man before us in all his greed has taken from those who ensure our safety and nearly thrown our order into disarray with something of which he was not meant to wield,” the old man continued, elevating his tone in the midst of the criminal's ongoing cries. “For his transgressions I can see a none more fitting punishment than to be torn asunder by an animal born from that very something he had narrowly seized.”

Yeula observed Farah from the corner of her eye as the latter rolled up a sleeve of her dark shirt to reveal a communication device disguised as a silver watch. From this device sounded a gruff voice Yeula could faintly recognize as her adoptive father, though she could not make out his words from the distance she stood from Farah, and before she could inquire of the purpose of the message after opening her mouth, Farah lightly tapped her shoulder.

“I'll be right back,” she whispered in her ear. “Enjoy the show, and don't follow me.”

Yeula hastily turned toward her sister as she scurried off and disappeared from the crowd, outstretching her hand in a failed attempt to grab her shoulder. “Kelin, go after her,” she quietly muttered.

“No way, I'm watchin' this,” Kelin whispered back, his mouth hung open with excitement.

In response to Kelin, Yeula begrudgingly returned to her spot with her arms crossed, by which time two of the FOG officers had already brought the steel cage to the peak of the stand. Yeula's face contorted as her eyes caught the clearly human hands of the supposed beast peeking from within the cage, desperately reaching for the weeping criminal and adding to his noise with a bloodthirsty roar; at this point, even she could no longer look away. One of the FOG officers handled a lever on the side of the cage, lifting the cylindrical bars and exposing the criminal's executioner-to-be for all to see. With loud, craggy breaths, the unclothed beast in the shape of a withered man frothed from the mouth at the sight of his prey as he slowly advanced in a hunched stance; dark fumes could be seen permeating from his gaping maw with each breath he took. He would not advance far before the chains between the inside of the cage and his eye-blocking helmet held him in place. With a large key in hand, one of the FOG officers undid the lock binding the helmet to the chains, and the feral man let out a final roar before promptly pouncing upon his hapless prey, leaving the host little time to back away before the onslaught. Only clamors and screams from the crowd could be heard as the feral man, armed with hardened muscle and teeth and claws sharp as any blade, proceeded to part the criminal's flesh and bone whilst he remained powerless to defend himself with what little time he had left until his body was rendered an empty husk. In the end, no newly-come onlooker would have been able to say that the resultant mess on the stand was once a man—a man who had undoubtedly screamed in his last moments only to be left unheard in the chaos.

As the feral man proceeded to indulge himself in the feed he had created, two FOG officers armed with electroshock rods advanced on him from separate corners, mercilessly beating him to the ground, deaf to the sound of his wailing. It was only after the feral man lay motionless on the ground, either killed or rendered unconscious, that the host threw his hands into the air to signal the end of the event. The stench of death was hindered by the stench of the miasma from the feral man's ghastly breath. The FOG officers dragged the feral man by his legs across the stage and back into his cage as the host walked off with no further word spoken. With that, most members of the crowd silently left to tend to other business with the gruesome execution no doubt lingering in their thoughts; others remained alongside friends or family to discuss what they had seen in low tones. As for Yeula, it was as though she had stared down a beast that could have turned its sights on her powerless self at any second and added her body to the carnage—her imagination had shaken her like never before and she could only hope she was not alone in that regard.

“That was… Well, can't say I went in thinking it'd go like that,” the evidently bewildered Kelin stuttered before turning to Yeula, a frown forming on his face. “Yeula… you okay?”

But she remained unresponsive, her eyes locked onto the deserted stand where only the viscera yet remained. It was only until her headphones beeped into her ears that her thoughts were set straight—at least enough to answer whomever had called.

“You called?” she spoke in a quivering voice.

“Just as an FYI, that man's name—the convict, I mean—was Jay Hillard,” came Farah's voice over the headphones. “Supposedly he was prosecuted for having smuggled Fortitude weaponry into Golem's inner walls. Sound familiar? Anyway, as far as I can tell, the host wasn't lying about that much; you might want to look him up yourself sometime.”

“Where are you, Farah?” Yeula asked in a murmur, still looking toward the stand.

“Taking care of important business. You might have been able to guess something of the sort, but I was requested to join an important discussion regarding our next 'big project.' I'll find you again tonight and fill you in with the details at some point tomorrow. Anyway, how was the show?”

“Can I assume you knew how that was going to end?” At this point, Yeula took her eyes off the stand and to where her car had been parked. It had gone missing along with Farah.

“Supposedly, that feral man was the result of being exposed to some kind of energy produced by Fortitude's equipment, so such individuals are thankfully hard to come by… except in FOG's captivity, apparently.”

“Yo, what did you do with my car!?” Yeula angrily asked as she stamped back to where her car once stood with Kelin following her.

“Oh, so you finally noticed?” Farah laughed. “I needed some way to make my escape, you know. Rest assured that I'll return it to you fully intact whenever I can.”

“What did you do without my ID?”

Farah began to laugh harder. “I just left the car on, silly. I'll talk to you later, okay, sis? Bye.” Farah ended the call before Yeula could properly protest.

“Sometimes you piss me off,” Yeula muttered to herself as she crossed her arms in frustration.

“So… Farah coming back?” Kelin asked while mounting his skateboard,

“No, she's definitely not coming back,” Yeula groaned. “Okay, Kelin, how did you get here? Do you have some car parked somewhere?”

Kelin shook his head. “Can't we just call another pickup?”

“All right, fine,” Yeula sighed to Kelin before speaking to her headphones, “Calling Relt.”

And within seconds, a rather timid-sounding male responded over the line, “Yeula? Can I help you with something?”

“Relt, are you in the South District by any chance?” Yeula asked while seating herself on the edge of the footpath.

“No, I'm in the West.”

“That's fine. Just get over here and come pick us up, all right? I'll be sending you the coordinates.”

“Wait, what? Did you get into a—”

“Don't ask, I'll explain later. Can you come pick us up, yes or no?”

“Uh, yeah, sure I can. I might be a little while getting there, though.”

“Just don't leave us hanging. Bye.” After terminating the call, Yeula reached for a handheld computer within her pocket and promptly sent Relt her coordinates before browsing the internet for information regarding the executed convict. She promptly turned her back to Kelin once he had sat down beside her and curiously leaned closer to take a peek at her device.

“Hey, don't be like that,” Kelin whined in response. “I just want to know what you're doing.”

“Ever heard of asking?” Yeula replied with an irritated tone and her eyes dead centered on her computer.

“Hey, why don't we just call Farah back?” Kelin asked.

“I already called Relt. What the hell is calling Ferah gonna do? Just leave me alone, please.” The brutal imagery of the execution still fresh in her mind had left her more hostile than her shame would permit, but was that truly all that was bothering her? With a contemplative deep breath, she took her eyes from her computer and withdrew it in her pocket before standing up and turning to Kelin with a calmed look on her face. “I'm sorry, Kelin, it's just… I guess I just haven't gotten enough sleep lately, you know? I've been far too busy lately.”

“Is this about that deal with that Fortitude chick?” Kelin frowned.

After momentarily staring blankly at Kelin with surprise, Yeula nodded. “Didn't think word would get around that quickly.”

“I heard things got pretty ugly. Are you sure you shouldn't be in bed right now?”

Yeula sighed. “No, I'm not tired. I'm just… I guess I'm still a little salty about what happened to her; how I couldn't save her. Was there something different I could have done? Every time I'm making progress, there's always been something to set me right back where I started. It's frustrating. And now today's just leaving me with even more unanswered questions.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” Kelin murmured, lowering his head. “Sucks to be us, doesn't it?”

Yeula sat back down next to Kelin. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I mean… you know, doing what we have to do for our family's sake. It gets tiring, doesn't it?”

“That's just the sacrifice we all have to make to discover some great truth out there, or at least that's how it's always been for me. This isn't just about gold, reputation, or shallow shit like that.”

Kelin let out a halfhearted cackle. “Unlike you, I didn't spend my time in a Fortitude camp. I'm not interested in chasing after some big mystery—with what I've been through, I just like having good food on my plate and a family of people I can relate with; the problem is I don't get to see 'em very often. You know where I'm going with this? The gold's nice and all—I mean, it's nice I can get payed while only having to get off my ass every month or so—but sometimes I just wish we could all be like a normal family, a bunch of legit working people.”

“Then maybe you should stop thinking like a misfit and actually think about your future for once—shape yourself up one day and start doing something productive, get a real job. No one will hold it against you if you decide to up and leave.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kelin said as he looked up at the sky. “Is that what you plan on doing—going on your own one day?”

Yeula looked up and let out her rare smile as she thought about her long held dream for the first time in years. “You know what I've always wanted to be as a child? I'm gonna run Xodus someday. Once I've solved this 'big mystery' of mine, I'm going solo and making a real name for myself by becoming the CEO of Golem's greatest technological company. And, you know what? I think I've already proven I have just what it takes do anything I set my mind to.”

Kelin smiled wryly at the sky. “You're talented like that, I know; nothing like me.”

Yeula nudged Kelin on the shoulder. “That's why you get off your ass every now and then, to make those dreams of yours come true.”

A long silence ensured before Kelin began to laugh. Yeula simply observed him as though he had lost his mind until he stopped and looked directly into her eyes. “So, feeling better now?” he asked with his usual exuberant tone.

“What are you even talking about?” Yeula sighed.

“I saw that look on your face after the execution; you looked pretty scared shitless!”

“All right, fine; I'll admit that taking my mind off things for a moment helped me out, so thanks for that. How about we just spend the rest of the day like commoners and have some real fun for once?”

Kelin nodded. “Will do… whenever Relt gets here.”

Yeula and Kelin spent the remainder of their wait reminiscing of their lives as Erenets on the streets of the great city as the sun began to set. Yeula and Kelin could barely spot Relt and his distinguishable messy black mullet approaching from within an exotic, elongated black car behind the traffic having suddenly grown denser than before. With a tired Yeula waving at him, Relt, dressed in a vest, suit pants and trench coat all in black to fit his impressive car. parked next to the duo with a rather smug look worn around his puffy face. “Get in,” he said, his tone no less pompous.

“Oh, look, Kelin, our savior has arrived,” Yeula sarcastically chimed, rolling her eyes at her old friend. “What's up, Relt? What took you so long?”

As Yeula and Kelin climbed over the car door and into the backseats, Relt murmured, “Not my fault this city is an ass to navigate. So, where to?”

Yeula thought for a moment. “You know what? Just take us both home.”

“No, wait!” Kelin interjected. “Why don't we drive by Prime District around the hilltop we first met?”

Relt scratched his head. “Around the West? Wasn't that pretty close to the prime city, though? What if we get shot down?”

“No, wait, that actually sounds pretty good,” Yeula added. “I don't think we'll get shot down for nearing the city if they're just going to unwrap the place tomorrow, but feel free to make a run for it after we get there if you feel like you're going to be pissing yourself.”

“All right, all right, let's go,” Relt sighed as he began the long drive.

Before Relt could continue speaking, Yeula kept him quiet with a gesture before speaking into her headphones, “Calling Ferah.”

“Look, Yeula,” Farah promptly responded from the headphones, “if you want to complain about my actions, can you please wait until—”

“Will you just listen for once?” Yeula interjected. “Relt's taking me to the outskirts of the West District, so meet me there If you still feel like returning my car sometime soon. I'll send you the coordinates if necessary. Is that convenient enough for you?”

“Um… sure. Can I ask what you plan on doing over there?”

“Bye, Farah.” With a sigh, Yeula pulled her headphones back around her neck and leaned on her seat. “I could use a day off. Were you going to say something, Relt?”

“Yeah, I was wondering what happened between you guys.”

“Ferah ran off with my car for some important meeting and left me to rot after showing me the first public execution I'd ever seen. Does that answer your question?”

“Sounds like her,” Relt laughed. “And I was actually checking out that execution on the FOG channel; I saw you guys in the crowd. Poor bastard, huh?”

“That was broadcast on live television?” Kelin asked, looking above for cameras.

“South District's got cameras everywhere, remember?” Yeula replied while pointing to a particularly large sentry before they drove past it. “And those cameras aren't just for security, so count yourself lucky that no one knows who you are.”

A long silence ensued before Relt spoke upon reaching an intersection, “Hey, Yeula, I was wondering something...”

Yeula looked into Relt's troubled expression and lifted an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Or, on second thought, never mind; I'll talk to you about that when we get to that place.”

Yeula shrugged. “Suit yourself, dude.”

By the time the trio had journeyed beyond the vast Southern city and landed upon the large, grassy hilltop on the outskirts of the West District overlooking the restored Prime District, night had already fallen and only the light of the moon showed them the way. Yeula skipped and danced upon the flat peak of the hill with uncharacteristic joy with Relt and Kelin simply strolled forward with much less enthusiasm. It was Yeula's first revisiting of the place where her life changed for the better; the smell of nature and the breeze swirling all around the hill, both trivial to anyone else, had become almost particular to her body and presented her a sense of elation as it revitalized cherished memories. She was a lone child, abandoned by FOG and left with only the clothes around her figure when she stumbled upon this place and met the little girl who would become her adoptive sister along with her father and a number of others taken into the Erenet family, Kelin included. It was a meeting she welcomed with open arms right from the start, one that helped her move on from the friends she had parted from. She sat down facing the dim city in the distance silhouetted in the night sky with Kelin and Relt doing the same on opposite sides of her.

“Do you wonder what's going on over there?” Relt softly asked, his mind clearly still set on the question he was to ask Yeula.

Yeula shook her head. “Not really. FOG's probably just adding the finishing touches as we speak.”

“Any news on the Haizers?” Kelin asked. “I don't really keep up with that stuff.”

“Some Haizer named Wrellord succeeded Gede as the new Prime Dictator of Golem ages ago, but, of course, he's been kept from the public eye so far,” Yeula replied. “They'll probably decide to reveal him after the city is restored. I think he's around my age. Some world, huh?” Yeula lay down on the grass before continuing, “So, Relt, there was something you wanted to ask me?”

“Um, yeah. Uh…” Relt paused for a moment before putting his thoughts into words without facing Yeula. “I was just thinking about Eyareon, I guess.”

“Eyareon, huh?” Yeula unenthusiastically murmured. Simply hearing that name for the first time in years was almost painful. “What about her?”

“I was going to ask if you heard anything about her recently.”

“No.” Yeula sat back up to look directly into Relt's narrowed green eyes. “You still miss her, don't you?”

Relt nodded after a moment of stillness.

Yeula deeply exhaled before laying back down. “I know how you feel, because I miss her, too. Some things just have to happen whether we want to go with it or not sometimes, right? What we had going back then, we'll never have it again; so let's just move on and try to forget about her completely, all right?”

Kelin gave Yeula a blank stare. “Is it odd that I have no idea who you guys are talking about?”

“She was my best friend back in the day, Kelin,” Yeula softly said. “She was a strong woman. She looked after us all like a mother even when she was still very much a child herself. Unlike most of us, she had no idea if her parents were even alive, but she never let that bring her down—in fact, nothing ever brought her down. She just kept going, cheery and funny as ever, even when her future seemed more uncertain than most of ours. I always envied her and still do in some ways; we all felt that way about her.”

“Oh. So, what happened to her? Did she die?”

“Look what we have here!” a familiar voice exclaimed from behind the trio, one that made Yeula promptly rise and stamp in the direction of the source. The source, Farah, clapped her hands together as she approached her sister with a smile from ear to ear. “I was worried you had lost your mind and were off to do something stupid, but I'm glad I was wrong for once.”

“Okay, where's my car, Ferah?” Yeula wearily asked.

“Just under the hill, all right? You're free to go look for yourself if you don't mind the annoying walk.” Farah glanced at Kelin and Relt before walking past Yeula and waving at them. “Hello again, Kelin; long time no see, Relt.”

“Wait, I'm not even done with you!” Yeula exclaimed as she blocked her sister's path. “What was that meeting all about?”

“Don't you remember what I said? I'll send you a message regarding that tomorrow. Right now, it's getting late and I'd much rather head back home to catch up on my sleep. It certainly doesn't help that you forced me to follow you all the way here.”

After a period of silence, Yeula walked past her sister and in the direction of her car. “Relt! Kelin! We're leaving!” Kelin and Relt promptly stood up to follow Yeula and Farah, with Farah following closely behind Yeula.

“Going back to your car?” Farah asked while trying to block Yeula's view. “Can I least ride with you?”

“Hell no,” Yeula replied while quickening her pace.

“Oh, come on, sis!” Farah jokingly whined. “Look, just name your price and I'll pay it!”

“Trying to bribe me now, are you?” Yeula mused, her urgent walk becoming an exuberant sprint. Relt, Kelin, and Farah all followed her lead, with Farah evidently tiring faster than the others.

“Wait, I'm getting a cramp!” Farah yelled at Yeula.

“I've got plenty of room in my car in you're interested, Farah!” Relt laughed.

In Yeula's own eyes, her long held objective was all that truly mattered while her whole family other than Farah was but a means to an end. Nevertheless, the quaint moments she spent alongside them were ones she would cherish eternally. Only she would ever know of the smile she kept on her face as that one night came to a close.

[possiblyimbiassed]

Sherlock and hospital – a long-term relationship

Apart from an assortment of different vehicles of travel (cabs, cars, buses, subway trains, airplanes, helicopters and even a boat) and different crime scenes, there are two main venues where BBC Sherlock takes place; one is Sherlock’s home at 221B Baker Street, and the other is a hospital. This meta is focusing on the latter, since I believe it’s highly significant that the show is dedicating so much time to hospital scenes especially HLV and S4.

In the first series we see Sherlock working a lot at St Bart’s hospital, London.

This is also where Sherlock and John meet for the first time, so the hospital has a great symbolic value. Sherlock is not employed by this hospital; he mainly uses their lab facilities, which he has access to entirely thanks to a friend of his - Molly Hooper, a pathologist who works in the morgue of said hospital. Sherlock uses the hospital lab to carry out biochemical analyses connected to the crime cases he’s working on.

The morgue of Bart’s is also important to Sherlock, since it has a forensic function essential to his cases. Apparently, this is where murder victims are taken for forensic investigations carried out by New Scotland Yard.

In Series 2 Sherlock keeps using Bart’s hospital the same way he did in Series 2. In one case he also uses the hospital’s x-ray equipment (with Molly’s permission, I presume) to investigate a camera phone. There’s one scene, however, where he suddenly uses the rooftop of Bart’s instead, to secretly meet up with his adversary Jim Moriarty. This scene takes place in the episode The Reichenbach Fall, and it ends with Moriarty shooting himself in the head on said rooftop, after which Sherlock jumps from Bart’s rooftop in a fake suicide.

I think it’s particularly interesting that for the whole of series 1 and 2, we never see any patients in any of the hospital scenes. One might ask what’s the point of showing so much of a hospital, but never even a glimpse of its main activity and whole purpose: taking care of patients? Maybe it’s because Sherlock is a detective and deals with dead people rather than living?

However, in Series 3 we don’t see Sherlock working cases at Bart’s any more; there’s not a single scene where he makes a lab analysis, in spite of this being so important to him in Series 1 and 2. And the same goes for the whole of TAB and Series 4. There’s just the one scene in TSoT where he visits Bart’s to ask for a favour from Molly; he wants her to calculate an adequate intake of alcohol for John’s stag do.

But the hospital theme still continues. In the last episode of Series 3, His Last Vow, another kind of hospital scenes start to be frequent in the show; scenes where Sherlock is a patient. At first, in HLV, John takes him to Bart’s to have Molly test his urine for drugs. Apparently the test was positive, since Molly gets furious and slaps him. Later at 221B Sherlock is also violent towards his brother, telling him to “don’t appal me when I’m high”. Just a few hours later, however, Sherlock is up and running about, working on a crime case (not at Bart’s though) as if he hadn’t been high in the first place.  

But later in the show, Sherlock is shot in the chest and brought to hospital (it’s unclear which one; doesn’t look like Bart’s though).

Sherlock’s heart stops in (what seems to be) the operation room, but the doctors are surprised when it starts beating again.

We never see any operation scar, only the bullet hole (did they manage to take out the bullet through the same hole it came in?) John’s wife ‘Mary’- the one who shot him - visits a defenseless, hospitalized Sherlock only to threaten him ‘not to tell John’.

Sherlock’s ‘fake’ girlfriend Janine also visits his hospital bed, mainly to bother him, mock him for his drug addiction and fiddle with his IV morphine painkiller.

Strangely enough, Sherlock looks quite well for someone who has recently been shot in the chest and almost died, and it only takes a few days before he escapes through the window of his hospital ward.

After a highly emotional scene between Sherlock, John and ‘Mary’, Sherlock’s heart stops again and he is brought to hospital for the third time this episode. Supposedly Sherlock is hospitalized for months, but this time we don’t see any of it. What we do see is Sherlock having lunch in a restaurant, dressed in a hospital gown and with a morphine drip on a stand beside him. He’s there to meet Magnussen, another adversary, and he claims that this is the hospital – the canteen (which seems very unlikely).

Most of the special episode The Abominable Bride takes place in a 19:th century setting inside Sherlock’s mind palace, but in one of the scenes where he’s supposedly back to his modern life, we see Sherlock unconscious on a hospital bed again, with John and Mycroft and ‘Mary’ surrounding him.

The ‘modern’ scenes of TAB make it clear that Sherlock has taken an overdose of drugs, which is why he entered his mind palace this time. There’s also a bit of back story where Mycroft tells John that this is not the first time Sherlock OD:d, and Mycroft has an agreement with his brother that he always must write a list of the drugs he has taken. But this time Sherlock claims he doesn’t even need to go to hospital.

Series 4 starts with Sherlock on a governmental hearing, babbling as if he was high on drugs, but he denies having taken anything.  There are no more Bart’s scenes at all in this series; in The Six Thatchers Sherlock seems to make his analyses in the kitchen of 221B. When ‘Mary’ is about to give birth, Sherlock accompanies her and John in the car, but we never see them arrive at the hospital. Next scene the baby is already born, and John and ‘Mary’ are receiving guests at their home. At the end of the episode a governmental employee shoots ‘Mary’ in the abdomen, but we don’t see her being brought to hospital this time either – we don’t even see them call the ambulance.

The second episode of S4, however – The Lying Detective – is full of hospital scenes. There’s also a scene with an ambulance, where Molly examines Sherlock and tells him he’s dying from the drugs he is taking.

Nevertheless, Sherlock and John start working on a new case where they are trying to trick Culverton Smith, a celebrity who owns a hospital, into confessing to being a serial killer. Sherlock is high on drugs and looks totally worn-out. He even goes to the hospital’s rest room to get another fix.

Sherlock and John visit this hospital supposedly to give a talk to the hospitalized kids about Sherlock’s famous crimes cases.

But no-one seems to bother that Sherlock is high when he talks to the kids. John points out, however, that Sherlock already has given the answers when he offers the audience to try to solve his famous cases through logical reasoning.

But it turns out Sherlock fails to trick Culverton into any confessions. Instead Sherlock himself ends up hospitalized, after John beats and kicks him severely in front of Culverton and other people in the hospital’s morgue. This assault is glossed over, however, and blamed entirely on Sherlock.

John visits Sherlock’s hospital bed only to ‘say goodbye’ and leave the crutch that Sherlock saved him from in ASiB as a farewell gift. It’s unclear why John doesn’t want to see Sherlock anymore, but we do see him standing before an unconscious Sherlock in his sick bed.

Later on, however, Culverton enters and tries to suffocate Sherlock in his hospital bed on Sherlock’s own request.

Fortunately John returns right then, and he manages to save Sherlock.

The last episode of S4, The Final Problem, contains no hospital scenes at all, in spite of Sherlock and John jumping out from the window of 221B when a grenade explodes there. Mycroft is said to be gravely injured after the explosion, but we never see that. Instead of hospital, they all end up in a governmental high security facility on a far-away island named Sherrinford, where Sherlock’s and Mycroft’s dangerous sister Euros (whom Sherlock has never even heard of) is being kept as a prisoner. When Sherlock, John and Mycroft arrive there, it turns out that Euros is actually in charge of the instalment, and she performs a series of creepy experiments on them, involving murder, suicide and terror threats. Eventually, she lets them go, after Sherlock manages to solve her puzzle. One of the weirdest things with Sherrinford is that the security monitors of the instalment show CT-scan pictures of a human brain, instead of the expected CCTV security pictures:

And there is also some talk of organ donations. As if the events took place in a hospital rather than a prison.

So, what conclusions can we draw from all these hospital scenes in BBC Sherlock?  Well, my main observations are the following:

All the hospital scenes from HLV and onwards are, in some way or another, connected to Sherlock’s drug use.

From S3 and onwards, Sherlock is no longer performing analysis at Bart’s hospital for his crime cases. In fact, the purpose of the hospital scenes seem to have shifted from being a work-place for a detective to Sherlock being the patient.

Hospital scenes do not follow incidents that would require hospital treatment for other people than Sherlock. In fact, the only character we ever see lying on a hospital bed in this show is Sherlock.

Every scene where we see John visit Sherlock in hospital, Sherlock is unconscious (not counting the TLV scene where John comes to save Sherlock from being suffocated).

When Sherlock jumps from a high building or is shot in the chest, he miraculously survives. When he’s high on drugs it’s glossed over. But according to Molly the drugs are killing him.

I’d like to suggest a possible explanation to why we are seeing all these hospital scenes with Sherlock as a patient, and what they mean. I think what really happened is not what was presented on scene; instead it was basically this:

Sherlock tried to kill himself with drugs shortly after John’s wedding, out of heartbreak. Someone (John? Mrs Hudson?) found him and made sure he was brought to hospital. He was not shot in the chest, however; he overdosed. What we see on screen from HLV and onwards, is Sherlock running experiments and scenarios in his mind palace (EMP theory), trying to figure out what went wrong between him and John. The scenarios we see are based on Sherlock’s earlier experiences with John, and on John’s blog, which he was reading shortly before he took the drugs. His initial problem is heartbreak; his final problem is staying alive. From the outside, Sherlock is comatose; he is dying, as is (on a meta level) the whole show Sherlock. By TFP, however, Sherlock has managed to figure out some very important things about himself, concerning his fear of love and emotions. I think he’s emotionally prepared to wake up from his coma and start the real recovery, which will probably take place in the next episode.

But the villains – the real, underlying causes of Sherlock’s and John’s problems – are homophobia and heteronormativity (represented by Jim and ‘Mary’). They are still very present, but Sherlock hasn’t even realized this yet; he rather tries to either deny them (‘Moriarty is dead’) or make excuses for them (all his glorifying of ‘Mary’). And I believe this means these issues will certainly pop up in Series 5, where Sherlock and John will finally have to deal with them in order to defeat the villains.

So, this is basically my view of the show, and of all the weirdness of HLV and Series4. I’ve also tried to explain the reasons for it in these meta:

John’s wedding is a crime scene and Sherlock is the victim, John’s wedding is a crime scene Part II, Is John’s blog food for Sherlock’s EMP?,  Sherlock’s note and  Why HLV happens inside Sherlock’s head.

And also in my answer to this brilliant meta by @sagestreet, continued by @monikakrasnorada

Tagging some people who might be interested: @sagestreet @sarahthecoat @gosherlocked @monikakrasnorada @tjlcisthenewsexy @mrskolesouniverse

[kamerontwph034]

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[thethespacecoyote]

I don’t know what this is?? Rhys gets implanted with some kind of weird parasitic....thing? Jack has to help him get out and its kind of sad and weird?

I dunno what this is but it has parasitism/medical stuff/body horror/possession/implied violent surgical means of dealing with the problem sooooo. Yeah. Have fun with this maybe?

Jack’s not sure if he’s ever been this afraid.

He’s usually pretty good about not showing fear—every good CEO knew to keep vulnerable emotions locked way far away from the prying eyes of the public. Anger and brutal happiness were the only feelings he usually allowed to leak through, because he could use those as methods of intimidation towards his Hyperion underlings.

Fear in the eyes of others was useful, integral to the rule of a proper king. But the fear brewing within his own chest, now, made him feel nothing but helpless.

He was staring through the glass in his private medical bay, hands clenched tightly behind his back. He wanted nothing more than to press his palms against the glass, to get as close to the other room as physically possible, but he forced himself to scorn such a vulnerable position. He had already shown far too many leaks of panic to the equally anxious scientists and doctors shuffling in and out of the adjoining rooms; both tended to the patient on the bed and the brewing, ominous storm that was Handsome Jack’s worried gaze.

It had been less than twelve hours since Rhys had arrived home from a brief trip to Elpis, hunting down some moonstones to use for some programming chip or something. It was for an upgrade to his arm, Jack remembered that much. The omega had been fine when he had returned from the shuttle, kissing Jack and scooping up their excited children. At his usual level of strength and lucidity.

But in the middle of the night, Jack had awoken to pained whimpers at his side. He had grabbed Rhys once he’d properly shaken sleep from his eyes, tried to turn him over only to find that Rhys’ body was wrapped rigid around his middle. His eyes were screwed shut in agony and he was crying out without abandon, his entire body shaking in a way Jack had never seen before, not even in the depths of a bad heat.

He’d called a medical team as quickly as he could, soon after waking Tim up to watch over the boys as he swiftly carried Rhys’ body out of the penthouse to meet with the medics, unwilling to guide them through the complicated process of getting his door open. Rhys had been sobbing and grabbing his stomach the entire time, body twisting both in Jack’s arms and on the stretcher.

He wasn’t moving much, now, and hadn’t been for the past six hours. Jack stared through the glass to where Rhys was lying on the bed, hooked up to far too many strange-looking machines beeping in colors and patterns that Jack didn’t understand. All he knew was that Rhys wasn’t waking up. His body was pale, crossed with faint purple, veinlike rashes that concentrated around his abdomen, and its that that makes Jack’s frikkin’ skin crawl with fear.

Rhys’ stomach was swollen and misshapen, his skin covered in patches of bruises and swirled in ugly, neon-purple stretch marks that almost seem to glow even in the stark light of the medical bay. The hospital bedding was pulled down over his stomach, the abused skin covered in sensors and imaging probes as doctors and techs looked on with confusion and concern.

Jack’s neck prickled, because the omega looked pregnant, and he knew whatever was in there wasn’t his.

Some freaky alien—parasite—thing had decided to shack up inside of his mate and Jack wasn’t going to stand for it even if he has to reach inside of Rhys’ guts and yank the bastard out himself.

He watched as a tech reaches forward, lightly palpating on Rhys’ stomach, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What the hell is taking so long?” The alpha snarled as he barged into the room, scanning over the tons of fancy equipment that was, in his opinion, completely frikkin’ useless. “You shits have been poking and prodding at him for hours and you still can’t tell me what the hell is inside of him!”

“Ah—Handsome Jack, sir, please,” a young female tech stuttered, trying to keep her sensor wand pressed to Rhys’ stomach even in the face of the furious alpha, “it’s just that….well….see for yourself…”

As calmly as she could manage, the young tech flipped one of the monitors in the CEOs direction.

“So…? What the hell am I supposed to be looking at?” The alpha snarled as he squinted at the image. It looked like a whole lot of frikkin’ nothing. Some shapes on the display were defined, like the glowing shapes of Rhys’ bones, but little else was definite and not blurred to high hell.

“And….well, that’s the problem, sir. We can’t seem to get a proper reading on whatever is there. It’s just like….like an artificial blind spot, so to speak. It’s blocking our attempt to properly see inside him.”

The beta traced her finger around the blur.

“It does….seem that, whatever it is, it’s housed himself inside your omega’s reproductive organs. Interfacing with his circulatory system. That’s….that’s all we can tell at this point, until the labs get ba—“

The beta was cut off as Jack slammed his fist against the display.

“Great. Great! You’ve had six frikkin’ hours and that’s all you’ve had to show for it! Are you kidding!” The alpha roared, spit flying from his fangs. He tensed, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing his temples, cursing to himself as he desperately tried to bring his emotions back under control. He looked up, face shadowed by his hands, dark and menacing at the beta.

“You have a mate, sugar?”

“Y….Yes sir.”

“No kidding. And pups?”

A bigger pause this time. “…Yes.”

One hand fell to Jack’s hip, the other grasping his chin as he glared at her.

“Right. Well, if you don’t figure out what’s wrong with him, then I’ll kill your mate and your pups. In fact, I’ll kill everyone’s mate and pups. We gotta deal, kiddos?” Jack growled, wondering for a moment if he should kill someone’s family now just to get a fire lit under them when a pained little whimper from Rhys’ caught his attention.

Jack was at his mate’s sight in an instant, his bond throbbing in shared pain as he placed his hands upon Rhys, just barely remembering to be careful not to jostle the IVs and sensors.  

“Rhysie…” Jack croaked, carefully brushing the omega’s hair off his forehead. God, he was burning up, and it ached through Jack’s entire body. Another sad, shaky little whimper escaped the omega’s lips, his eyes fluttering and lips moving as if he wanted to wake up, but didn’t have the strength.

“It’s okay, pumpkin, it’s okay…” The alpha tried to sooth, his other hand finding Rhys’ hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. He kissed his mate’s forehead, pressing as close to him as he felt comfortable with all the sensors and the pain the younger man was in.

His bond was braying at him, sensing the pain and distress his mate was in and trying to get him to do something, anything to protect Rhys. But Jack could do nothing but watch and hold his omega, stroke his head and kiss him and assure him everything would be fine.

And it would be fine, or else Jack would end the day with a lot of blood on his hands.

It was nearly another other before Rhys’ labs came back, and what Jack was told had the alpha reeling.

“Eridium? You’re joking.” Jack snapped at the doctor who had approached him, snatching the file out of his hands. “How the hell can he have Eridium in his blood? He’d be dead!”

“I….I don’t understand it either, sir, but there’s no doubt. We ran the blood several times, and come up with the same results.” The alpha nervously adjusted his glasses. Jack sniffed sharply. God, this guy smelled like he’d spent a day in the thresher enclosure. When was the last time these people bathed?

“Well, what the hell are we gonna do about that, huh?” Jack huffed.

“We….we need to operate on him as soon as possible, to get whatever is producing the Eridium out before something irreversible happens. It’s going to be difficult with our imaging software malfunctioning, but….we don’t really have a choice.” The man concluded grimly.

“Fine. You fuck up, I kill your whole family, blah blah blah, you know the whole drill.” Jack spat, pushing himself up from his chair and brushing past the doctor.

He re-entered the main room, eyes falling on Rhys’ form. God, he looked even worse than he had before, the purple veins spreading further over his body, growing thicker as they spiraled out from his swollen stomach. Jeez, it was even bigger than it had been an hour ago, irregular lumps standing out against his stretched skin. Jack swallowed around the thickness in his throat, hating the way Rhys’ looked. It was nothing like the charming, clever omega he knew. The one who’d given him two kids and countless nights of sex and sweetness and support beyond what he probably deserved.

He approached the omega’s bed, ready to say what would hopefully not be his last goodbye—when he noticed that Rhys’ eyes were open.

The next thing Jack knew, he was being thrown to the floor with such force that his breath was nearly knocked from his lungs. He let out a hoarse gasp, spots popping in his vision. He heard the machines violently crash to the floor around him, and before he could push himself up a new weight sat atop him. He felt long fingers try to grasp around his throat, and that finally galvanized him into action. He seized at the hands trying to wrap around his neck, pushing against insane strength as his swimming vision finally fixed on what was above him.

The first thing he saw were the eyes—soulless and burning and glowing bright, bright purple out of a far too familiar face.

“Rhys?” Jack shouted, fending off the omega as he spat and hissed, trying to get his claws back around the alpha’s throat. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Jaaaaaaaack.” A dark, rattling hiss came from the omega’s unmoving lips, the sound sending a chill up Jack’s spine. The purple, alien glow that wracked through Rhys’ body, lighting up the bruises and marks that had come to cover the omega’s skin, was both familiar and soullessly alien. Beneath the plasticine of his mask he could feel his deadened scar throb violently, and he nearly faltered and let “Rhys” throttle him again. He grit his teeth, roaring in agony as his scar and his bond both screeched at him, before he shoved “Rhys” off and away from him, sending the omega crashing into one of the downed machines.

Jack struggled to his feet, swaying in imbalance as he stared. Rhys’ nude body quaked and jerked on the floor, like it was being yanked by invisible strings. His swollen stomach was throbbing, violent and purple as long serpentine shapes shifted underneath his skin. The omega’s head snapped up, fixing Jack with a fiery stare that pierced straight through the alpha and send a cold shiver down to his heart.

“You should have diiiiied long agoooo.” “Rhys” rasped, crouching back on his haunches, his belly writhing with horrible fervor.

“Yeah?” Jack shouted, trying to sound tough, “you sound like one of my exes, babe!”

Jack’s fingers danced on the handle of the gun at his waist.

“Is that it? Frikkin’ jealous I decided to shack up with someone worth my time? Think you can just burrow into his guts to get some good ol’ Jack loving?”

A cold, cruel laugh echoed throughout the

“Your dynasty will doom the universe. It ends here.”

“Oh, so first you sneak inside my mate, and now you’re threatening my kids? You’re not making many friends here, buddy.” Jack snarled, eyes flicking briefly to the barrel of his gun. He watched “Rhys’” body tense, preparing to strike. Jack gripped the handle of his pistol, eyes flicking to the omega’s stomach.

“Rhys’” legs twitched a second before he was leaping into the air, teeth bared, claws outstretched and ready to tear Jack apart.

Thankfully, Jack was there to meet him, the golden bayonet of his pistol glinting in the blue light of the medical bay.

Tim brings the boys to visit a few days after that. Rhys is still pale and weak, but his face lights up the moment Cyrus and Jaxen enter the room. Jack has to stop Cyrus from jumping on his mother, warning the boys to be careful lest Rhys pop any of his stitches. Jack lifts both boys onto the hospital bed to cautiously lay next to Rhys, who welcomes the closeness. He presses his nose into his children’s hair, scenting them weakly before laying back against his pillow.

For the first time in days, Jack leaves Rhys’ side for something other than the bathroom. He shuts the door behind himself and Timothy, glancing about in both directions before he pulls the double close, breathing directly into his ear.

“Sub-level seventeen, holding cell nine. There’s a chest in there I need you to take care of.” Jack’s eyes are steely, cold shells as they lock with Tim’s. His voice wavers.

“Get someone disposable to fly it to the deepest, darkest pit in the universe and toss it inside. Then kill them.” Timothy’s eyes widen in confusion.

“Jack, that seems—why don’t you just airlock it?”

The CEO’s fingers slip around Timothy’s chin, pulling him in closer. His eyes flicker to the side, watching through the window as Cyrus and Jaxen cuddle up next to Rhys, holding the frail omega close as he kisses their cheeks.

“I’m not taking any chances.”