#the terrible beeping. i have to get a new battery for it now

[pcktknife]

it might b getting to the point if I stay up past 11 I start getting a teeny tiny itty bitty passively suicidal. nothing crazy but it is like mildly annoying

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

It's easy, they said 😶

Changed the deck's ssd, and every step along the way was stressful enough I now have 5% more grey hair.

Stripped one of the screws. Guess my screwdriver sucked, but god is it hard to find clear instructions which size to use. (With the ifixit set, for me it was a PH1 for the backplate and a PH0 for the internal ones.)

Ordered a new set of bits, a screw remover set (which didn't end up working, but got it out with a tiny flathead instead), and a new set of screws. Together with the SSD, could have just bought the more expensive tier of the deck in the first place 😅

Prying the backplate off was stressful, omg. All the cracky noises. (Thanks to the ifixit video reminding me to remove the microSD, would have snapped it in half.)

"Just unplug the battery!" There was nothing "just" about it, googled, and wriggled, and pried, and wriggled some more, and scraped off some fingernail trying to get that damn connector out.

Meanwhile actually changing the ssd took like 1 minute.

Still haven't put the screws back in (wanted to see if everything works first). Might give it a few days and keep an eye on the thermals just in case.

I ended up buying an usb case for nvme ssds and cloned my drive. Didn't even need to install software, Linux does that with a single command. It worked perfectly fine, except that somehow, Steam has forgotten most of its settings, which really, small issue, but mildly hilarious. Yes, everything is still there, but here, have some beep sounds on menu navigation and all your emulated games forgot that they used to be in a collection.

Was it worth it? I think so.

I've owned the thing for 2 years now, so I am absolutely certain of two things: 1) it's worth the money and more b) 256 GB is too little space for me and sd cards won't be saving me.

The main reason why I wanted an upgrade is that one of my games performs terribly off the micro sd. It took several minutes to load into a map; quickly hopping in to kill a boss? Sorry, boss is dead now.

Unfortunately, that game is also 72+ GB and can't just be finished and uninstalled, so that's like 1/3 of the space permanently taken.

Also honestly, navigating two of each common and compatdata-folders for savegame hunting, mod installing or snoop-around-in-files-purposes is just a huge pain in the ass. I'm sure it works for those people who think changing a wallpaper is witchcraft, but I like mods/reshade and not every game I like supports cloud saves.

[biggestdev]

Converting a battery backup to Lithium because I hate myself

I've got a whole bunch of battery backups in my home, one on each computer, and a big one in my server rack in the basement. I've also got a few out "in the wild" at some of my family's places. They're great, where I live in the northeast US, the power grid is stable enough that most outages are only minutes long, and these backups (technically called a UPS - Uninterrupted Power Supply) do a great job keeping computers running through them.

My issue is the batteries. They all run on lead acid batteries, aka the same kind that's in your car, and they dont last long in this kind of environment, I'm lucky if I get 3 years out of one. On top of that, their battery life detection is terrible, It's about a 50/50 shot whether I get a warning about a dead battery pack before the next power outage takes it down without warning. Keeping track of that with just one or two is annoying, let alone 10 of them!

Lithium UPS's exist, and theoretically last many years longer, but they are many times more expensive than a normal backup. I'd like to not spend new-car money replacing a dozen UPS units, so I did some math instead.

I have a husk of a ups (no battery), and I tested it out: the open circuit voltage on the battery cable is 27.6 volts, which just happens to be almost the exact voltage needed to float charge a series of 8 Lithium-iron-phosphate (LiFePo4) batteries!

Why is that exciting? Usually when you think of lithium batteries, you think of lithium-ion (also can be called lithium-polymer) batteries. These are the batteries in your laptop and phone... And also Tesla cars. They hold more energy than a LiFePo4 battery, but are very sensitive to temperature, over and under-voltage, over-charging, and over-current conditions. Abuse them too hard, and they swell up and pop! That's why Teslas seem to catch fire more often than other cars: most other companies gave up range for a battery chemistry that isn't a ticking time bomb, like LiFePo4.

These LiFePo4 batteries can take a beating compared to Li-ion ones. Most importantly, they can be "float" charged, that is, left on the charger 24/7, without worrying about overcharging it and blowing caustic smoke everywhere. This is critical, because I'm attempting a direct drop-in swap for the old lead battery in this UPS, because float charging a lead battery is basically a requirement, and doing that to a Li-ion battery is asking for a fire!

Using a Li-ion pack would require a custom charging circuit, as the UPS's 27.6V is not correct for any configuration of Li-ion, and would either under charge the pack, losing me 50% of my capacity, or overcharge it, and make it explode. It would also have to stop the batteries from being float charged, again to keep the battery from exploding, while fooling the UPS into thinking a battery is still attached so it doesn't beep at me all the time, and my head is spinning just thinking about how that would work. Much easier to give up capacity for a simpler, and more robust battery.

This UPS can deliver 900 watts of power on battery, that equates to roughly 30 amps of current from the 27.6V battery pack. Adding a safety factor, I bought a BMS (Battery Management System) rated to 50 amps. A BMS is essential, as it offers extra protection against short circuits, over and under-charging and temperature cutoff. Also cell balancing, which keeps all the cells at the same level of charge during use (if they go out of sync-that's bad, is all I'll say for now). The batteries are rated for 120 amps continuous draw, so I am well under the limit where the cells would self-immolate.

With all that said, here's the guts:

Looking close, you might see that I had to cut some plastic out to make it all fit. That's an error on my part-I didn't measure right. If I make more, I'll definately be using a smaller cell, so it will be a proper "drop in" mod. Lots of drilling, cutting, and filing to make this all fit!

It took several hours to link up the cells, terminate the balancing wires (the small red spindly ones), and and stuff them in the battery box. That's a LOT longer than I was hoping it would take, but the on-the fly mods took a lot of time. but eventually, it all fit in, and I was able to test it:

It works! I unplugged it from the wall, and it stayed on! For now, I am in full helicopter parent mode, since I don't want to deal with a lithium fire, even though my math checks out and the UPS should never get the the point that these cells are ever "abused". I only leave it on when I'm in the room, and when I leave, I unplug from the wall, and remove the red lead from the battery, so no charge enters or leaves while I'm not there to watch it.

In theory, the only issue with this retrofit will be a useless runtime meter. The "minutes of runtime" meter is measuring the voltage of the battery as it discharges to estimate how much longer it will last, and the voltage drop over time is different for lithium and lead, so the meter won't be measuring accurately. Once I'm confident it won't explode randomly, I will likely install it permanently somewhere in one of my compters.

Wish me luck!

[part2of3]

My mom sent me a text message today while I was at work. Telling me that the battery was dying in the smoke detector and it was making a beeping sound. She couldn't find the step ladder to reach it. And my dad was being stupid and annoying (He's always been an asshole but now he has Alzheimer's and his condition is getting worse and amplifying all of his worst qualities)

She then made the comment that she would just fucking hang herself if it wasn't for the fact that her life insurance doesn't cover suicide.

How the fuck did we go from a dead smoke detector battery to suicide in the single text?

And what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? How am I supposed to respond?

Shit has been really bad lately. My dad's getting worse. We have no money. We can't find any help for him. He got a hold of my mom's car keys a month ago and he totaled her car. We can't afford a new one.

Everything is bleak and terrible and I understand why she's been depressed. I am too. Obviously. But lately she's been harder to be around than him. There's this kind of just hatred emanating out of her.

It's really making me want to just run away. Only reason I'm living with my parents at this age is because I've been helping them out. But if she's going to give up, and he's always been a piece of shit, then why should I even stick around to put up with this?

I am not doing okay

[tricktster]

i finally bought a new car, which required me to trade in my beloved old car. Now there was a lot that sucked about my old car, like, for example:

 the driver’s window seal leaked, so I had to hold a towel up to it whenever I went through the car wash or got caught in a thunderstorm, or in the alternative, appear places as my alter ego, Ol’ Wet Sleeve.

one day, for no discernible reason, the passenger door power lock made a metallic shriek for thirty minutes and then refused to ever work again

the windshield fluid reservoir was cracked, so I not only had to stop at every gas station to wipe the salt off my windshield all winter, but until the last of the fluid worked its way out of its system, every parking spot looked like my car had done a blue tinkle

something went terribly wrong with the anti-theft system which caused it to beep incessantly until the battery quite literally drained from the effort every time I locked my door and it was even mildly humid, culminating in the day its incessant wailing ruined a kishi bashi concert and then never deployed again

once there was a chipmunk on the windshield and I needed to get to work so I started the car and began driving VERY slowly in the hopes it would jump off, but it instead disappeared into a hole next to the wipers and I just had to hope it crawled out at work because i was late and surely that hole didn’t lead anywhere

the hole apparently led somewhere, and the chipmunk made a home somewhere under the hood

thereafter, the chipmunk, and I do not understand the mechanics here, figured out how to get into the cabin and left about 15 uneaten acorns, 30 partially eaten acorns, 100 acorn shells, and 1000 tiny poops on the floor

after i got the tires rotated last year, the right front wheel made an irreversible and humiliating squeaking noise whenever i went less than 50 miles an hour

it got stuck in very small amounts of snow with extreme, perverse regularity

there were inexplicable danger buttons on the steering wheel that made the automatic transmission turn into a manual - which I cannot drive. But don’t worry, they were incredibly easy to deploy accidentally and could only be fixed by turning the whole car off

the horn sounded like a clown nose

After five years without so much as a scrape, I told my mom about my intention to buy a better car and trade in the old one for a few thousand bucks. Approximately 17 hours thereafter, my mom accidentally backed into it with her car, leaving a huge dent and rendering the whole car worth literally dozens of dollars.

Three days later, my mom ran into it again, but this time with the rider mower. Although the rider mower cannot top five miles per hour, she claimed the collision was unavoidable because “the rider mower doesn’t have brakes!” although she was unable to explain how that prevented her from, you know, steering around the large stationary object. Also the rider mower has brakes. 

Now I know this all sounds very bad and dumb. However, there were three great things about my car that made up for all that nonsense:

1. it only had two seats. Examples of why this ruled:

 “oh, you guys need a ride somewhere? Oh sorrrrrry I caaaaaan’t, it’s a twooooo seater.”

 “you need help moving? SOOOOOORRRYYY I CAAAAAN’T FIT ANYTHING IN THERE AND I ONLYYYYY GOT TWO SEATSSS MANNNNN.”

“It’s my turn to be the DD? Sure, that only seems fa- OH SORRY CAN’T NOT EQUIPPED TWO SEATS IS THE THINGGGG.

2. because it was stupid small, I could go roughly 340 miles on about 20 dollars of gas (unless I pressed the red button that made it much less fuel efficient but made the engine noise go “vrmVOOM,” you know, to impress men)

Lastly, and most importantly:

3. the license plate that it was randomly assigned was absolutely incredible. Now I don’t want to get doxxed so this is a fake plate to protect my car’s identity, but it was, in essence, ORC-42069. It was fantasy creature + the funny numbers. It was so fucking choice. 

Anyway, I loved that stupid, selfish, garbage car, but it was time to let it go, on account of I Drive In Vermont And This Winter It Nearly Killed Me (On 3 Separate Occasions). So two weeks ago I agreed to trade in the Jerkmobile for, and this is no joke, ONE DOLLAR, I said goodbye to the funniest plates in automotive history, I put several thousand bucks down on a preowned car with only 8k miles and that sweet all wheel drive, and I settled in to wait for the NYSDMV to process the registration.

It took like fifteen days to get the registration settled, but because NYSDMV employees, like the rest of us, are dealing with a global pandemic, I wasn’t about to complain about the wait. And I like to think that my non-Karen energy reaped beautiful rewards. See, at the dealership this evening, I finally laid eyes on my brand new car. 

Look, I don’t believe in God. I have to remind myself sometimes that there’s nobody pulling the strings, that human beings tend to draw connections between unrelated points of data, that none of this MEANS anything. And yet, at the same time....

oh what intelligence

what divine providence

that my new randomly generated license plate should begin with a thrash metal band and end in 69.

[pookiepoodle]

Okay! Could I have oikawa and reader who are paired up for an assignment (in college) but they can't stand each other? It's a yearlong project and eventually they both realize they have a crush by the end of it but won't admit it lmao did I do alright 😅

The Project

Hello! So, I wrote this out as diary entries and I decided that it would be the “baby project”. Ya know, the cliche “enemies get paired up to take care of robot baby” though I honestly didn’t focus on that too much lol. I hope you enjoy! Please feel free to check out my masterlist and send in requests. Oh, I also don’t own any art!

January

Dear Diary,

I hate my life. I hate my professor but most of all, I hate Oikawa Tooru. I despise his stupid little face, his dumb hair and his obnoxious voice. But, worst of all, he is so full of himself. He has the biggest ego I have ever seen and he can never shut up. Why the hell did my professor decide to pair us together for this project? There’s no way we’re going to get an A, not with him as my partner. I should just toss this baby doll out the window. 

Dear Journal,

My life is ruined!!!! I am so annoyed with my stupid teacher, who clearly hates me because all the girls like me more than him. What a dick… anyway, he paired me up with Y/N. The most boring person I’ve ever met. She’s always studying, she never smiles and she’s always glaring at me like I’ve done something wrong, which I obviously haven’t. There’s no way I��m gonna pass this class now, because there’s not a bit of kindness in her. I should probably get that stupid baby robot thing from her.

February

Dear Diary,

Things have not improved. Most of my classmates are taking turns with the robot babies (which cry at night… rip my sleep) but Oikawa is so petty and refuses to take his turn! I’ve barely slept this week and I’m tempted to rip the batteries out of this thing, but if I do, I know I’ll fail the project. I’m just drained, I want a new partner, but the professor refused, selfish bastard.

Dear Journal,

I am so pissed with Y/N. She won’t trust me with the stupid robot during the day, so why should I have to deal with it at night? I know she’s pissed with me, from all the tired glares, but she needs to stop being such a bitch and just let me participate during the day. After all, it’s graded on participation too, I don’t want to fail. 

March

Dear Diary,

Oikawa is the worst. I accidentally dropped the baby and it began crying, with a little beeping noise going off. Aka, points off. I was so tired and he just started yelling at me in front of everyone, calling me a shitty partner and saying how I would never be trusted with a kid. I nearly cried and I ended up just running away. I’m literally trembling right now, god. I just want this to all end, I am so sick of him. 

Dear Journal,

Y/N is so frustrating! I told her to let me hold the kid since she was carrying tons of other stuff but she refused, saying she “didn’t need my help”. Two minutes later, she dropped the robot and we lost points. I just lost it. Like, does she want us to fail the project? Iwa-Chan yelled at me, saying I needed to apologise to her, but I don’t want to. It’s not my fault she’s so damn sensitive. But… I do feel a tiny bit bad for the trust comment. 

April

Dear Diary,

Things have been okay. Oikawa apologised for yelling at me, though given that his muscle-head friend was there, I’m guessing it wasn’t of his own accord. But, I accepted. I’ve been thinking about it and to be honest, fighting isn’t gonna work now. As much as I hate to admit it, even to a diary, I need to work with Oikawa if I want that A. So, I’m trying not to insult him (very difficult) and I’m letting him “help”, though I still doubt he’s capable of the job.

Dear Journal,

Iwa-Chan made me apologise, but I was super surprised when Y/N accepted it. I’d honestly expected to be kicked in the nuts, not gonna lie. She seems to have chilled out a bit though, so I guess it’s not as terrible as before. She also seems to be trusting me more too, so that makes me a bit smug. I’m obviously the superior parent after all. 

May

Dear Diary

May has not been too bad actually. Oikawa seems to be less of an asshole, I guess? I dunno, he just is sucking less… He’s actually not too bad with the robot either, I wonder if he has any younger siblings or something? I actually don’t know a lot about him.

Dear Journal

Turns out, Y/N isn’t as boring as I thought, like… what the heck! I came over to her dorm to grab the robot and I saw some posters on her wall of the bands I like, but I’ve not said anything yet. It’s weird but maybe Y/N isn’t as bad as I thought...

June

Dear Diary, 

Oikawa and I have stuff in common. I am shocked and still trying to process this. But, the dummy forgot to bring lunch and I gave him some milk bread I brought. Only because I didn’t want to hear him whine about how hungry he is, but it turns out to be his favorite food. He even mentioned a band I like and we talked about the new album for a few minutes before class started. It’s weird how he’s changed since January. But maybe… I’ve just gotten to know him better.

Dear Journal,

I was so hungry, I forgot my lunch and I was gonna go bother Iwa-Chan to share when Y/N gave me milk bread!!! I was so excited because duh, milk bread is amazing. I brought up the band we both like and we actually managed to have a civil conversation, which felt… pretty nice. She was so mean at the beginning of the year, but I think she’s actually kinda cool! Don’t tell her I said that. 

July

Dear Diary, 

Oikawa actually made me laugh today. Part of me is horrified and nauseous at the thought but another part of me is kinda… happy? It was the dumbest joke ever and I will not ruin your pages by retelling it, but I don’t think he’s going to let me live it down.

Dear Journal,

Guess what?! I made Y/N laugh! I will obviously tell you the amazing joke. 

Knock Knock

Who’s there?

Rough

Rough who?

Ruff Ruff Ruff it’s your dog!

She stared at me for a minute and I thought she was gonna punch me but then she just started laughing. It was actually really cute, like I never knew Y/N could have such a cute laugh! 

August

Dear Diary,

I got really sick, so sorry for the lack of entries this week. It was a really bad stomach virus and I honestly wanted to die. Oikawa actually helped me out though and took over the “parenting responsibilities”. He also brought me some soup which was amazing. Turns out he’s a good cook and it’s a dish called lentejas con chorizo. I’m gonna have to ask for the recipe. I don’t know if this sickness has infected my brain but I think Oikawa is a good friend? 

Dear Journal,

Y/N got really sick this week, so I took over with the robot baby. I was actually kinda worried about her, which was weird and Iwa-Chan said I should bring her something to eat. I made lentejas con chorizo, a spicy spanish soup with chorizo and lentils which she seemed to love! She looked super bad though, so I’m kinda glad she’s back to her normal self. It’s weird, but I kind consider her a friend, I guess.

September

Dear Diary,

I think I’m sick again. Whenever I’m with Oikawa, I feel super warm and light-headed, like I’ve got a fever or something. I checked my temperature though and it was normal so I’m kinda struggling to figure out just what the hell is wrong with me. My friends dared to suggest I have feelings for him, which is ridiculous because there is no way I have a crush on Oikawa Tooru.

Dear Journal,

Iwa-Chan is stupid. I was talking about Y/N today and how we hung out over the weekend to look after the robot baby. I happened to mention some stuff like I thought she looked nice and how she laughed at more of my jokes and then Iwa-Chan said “Dude, you sound like you’ve got a crush on her.” Which is ridiculous and I told him that! There is no way in hell that I have a crush on Y/N.

October

Dear Diary,

I have a crush on Oikawa Tooru. I can’t deny the terrible truth anymore, not when my heart flutters at his lame jokes and little stories. I am so screwed, because:

 1) I don’t want to like him!

 2) He is way too popular and probably doesn't like me back

But, I’m sure I’m just over-reacting, because it’s just a crush. Crushes come and go and soon, I’ll forget about it

Dear Journal,

I HAVE A CRUSH ON Y/N!!! I was just sitting in class and I couldn’t stop staring at her lips. Like, what the hell? Since when did they become so plump and kissable? I bet they taste like strawberries, oh god, and then she had the audacity to start nibbling her pen, like why?! Why would you torture me, Y/N-chan?! I freaked out and bailed on our lunch meeting but I can’t stop thinking about her.

November 

Dear Diary, 

The crush is gone. But it’s been replaced with love and I’m sorry for crying right now and messing up your pages, but I am sick with love for Tooru and I just want it to stop. It’s so messed up, how we started off hating each other and now, I feel like this. He doesn’t hate me anymore, but he doesn’t love me, I’m sure of it. He’s been avoiding me as much as possible and I just want to cry. I’m too tired to write anymore, I just want to sleep. 

Dear Journal,

I love her. I am in love with Y/N and I don’t even know what to do. I’ve never felt like this before, sure I’m a big flirt, but this is so different. I wanna hold her hand and kiss her and yes, fuck her, but more than that. I want her to be mine and all I can do is run away from her like a coward. I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do now.

December

Dear Oikawa, 

I hate our professor so much, but for a different reason. Being told to give you my journal is literally my worst nightmare and I’m only doing this because I don’t want to fail. I’d rewrite everything but the professor stamped each page (thank god he doesn’t read this) so there’s no use ripping out stuff. Why did I not use a pencil?! 

Oikawa, at the beginning of the year, I hated you. You were the most annoying guy I’d ever met and I was so pissed at being partnered with you. But, as you’ve just read… things have changed.

I know that there is no way in heaven or hell you like me back, but I can’t exactly hide it from you, so just please still be my friend. I love you, but I’d rather be your friend than have you avoid me out of awkwardness. 

Dear Y/N,

I cannot believe the professor added this, I am so angry. Definitely gonna complain to HR or whatever shit we have here. I am super sorry for all the mean stuff I wrote, because I didn’t know you then. I hope you can see that I really like you a lot, Y/N. I think I’m in love with you and I know you probably are gonna reject me but I needed to “say” it. I’ve been such a loser, running away from you and my feelings (literally) so I need to man up as Iwa-Chan would say. I hope you don’t hate me and we can still be friends. But… if you somehow feel even a tiny bit of love for me, I love you too Y/N. 

[theliterateape]

The Last Generation

By J. L. Thurston

MY RESPIRATOR BEEPS, BRINGING ME DOWN TO REALITY. Through fatigue, I had finally found peace long enough to relax and let my mind wander. It’s been days since I’ve felt calm enough to space out. Maybe it’s the delicate blue paint on the walls, or the screens on the ceiling playing video of blue skies dotted with white fluffy clouds. It’s a sky I’ve never seen but my dad used to tell me he’d imagined shapes in the clouds when he was a boy. This blue and white sky is alien to me but I find it beautiful.

Another beep. I’ll have to recharge it soon. Certainly there’s a charging station here. I haven’t looked around much, though I’ve been here three hours. Because of the ion storm I had to arrive two and a half hours before opening or risk not being able to come at all. Now that I’ve been let inside beyond the lead lined atrium walls, I should get up and check the place out.

If my dad were here, he’d explore with me. Even when his lungs were failing him, he always found enjoyment in wandering. In the end, he’d wander with just his eyes and a National Geographic.

“See, Aiden?” he’d say, landing a finger on a fading photo of a lion or zebra. “These used to be everywhere in Africa.”

We buried him with a stuffed lion. He was so fascinated by things he’d remember from childhood. Fascinated might not be the right word. He was… Well, he missed those things. He missed the days of breathing. Of free water. When people weren’t going broke just so they could afford to give their children a drink. He missed lying down outside and watching the sky drift by.

I wear his respirator. Mine broke in school one day. I spent three hours in class knowing that unfiltered air was entering my lungs. It tasted terrible. The headache was worse. When my father saw me come home with only a rag over my face he didn’t hesitate. He took off his respirator and put it on me.

He spent days convincing my mom it was going to be okay. We couldn’t afford a new one and it would be weeks before mine could be fixed.

“What are we going to do? Move into a Breathe-Rite?” he asked the final question that sent my mom away in tears.

A Breathe-Rite. An apartment building with filtered air. Sealed off from the radiation and the toxins people like me are exposed to every day. People don’t have to wear respirators in those places. They can actually take them off. They even have Breathe-Rite schools. But the people who can afford to live there are beyond wealthy. They waste air and water because it doesn’t mean much to them. They have all they’ll ever need. For now.

And my parents went without for so long, saving every penny they could. For me. For today. For FreeBot.

I thought a place like this would have filtered air, but the orange signs with the black lungs and the big X tell me to keep my respirator on. It beeps again. I need to charge it.

Standing and stretching, I feel a deep-bone ache. My legs hardly want to move. I leave the lobby and head in the direction of the food court. It’s been closed indefinitely due to supplies, but the area is open and friendly. The blue walls are interrupted by large plants protected inside humidity domes. I let myself admire a particularly leafy one labeled ‘fern.’ My dad would have known it’s name on sight.

At last, I locate a green pillar with a lightning bolt decal. The charging station costs $80 per watt. I unlock my phone and check the account. I barely have enough for a half charge.

He missed the days of breathing. Of free water. When people weren’t going broke just so they could afford to give their children a drink. He missed lying down outside and watching the sky drift by.

As I plug the black cord of my respirator into the outlet and swipe my card, I realize it must seem stupid to charge up a respirator for only a few more hours of use. I’m a client here, after all, and I won’t even need a respirator soon. But my appointment isn’t until nine, and I don’t feel like spending three hours breathing garbage air and suffering a headache. Plus, I’ve opted to be an organ donor. My lungs have minimal damage and could help someone. Someone like my dad. He needed lungs and none were available. But he would have refused a donor, anyway. Saving the money for me. For today. He died for this. And that is why I feel like such a coward.

I don’t want this. I’m too afraid. I don’t think this is the answer for the human race. I don’t want us all to suffer and die, but it is our fault we live in a destroyed world.

They call people my age the Last Generation. There are kids younger than us, but they are few. Babies don’t survive the way they used to. Water and air is so expensive, most people can’t afford to keep their children alive. I’m apart of the Last Generation. I’m fifteen.

My parents are gone. Dad died of respiratory failure because he lived without a respirator for three weeks while mine was being repaired. Mom starved to death. I was almost in my grave until a harvest brought bread back to the circulation. But it won’t last. Those who can breathe can’t eat, and those who can eat can’t breathe. Unless you’re rich.

Before Mom died, she told me the money was for me to take to FreeBot. Because of my age, I’d be accepted quickly. Out of respect for her, I went. I think I didn’t expect FreeBot to work me in so soon. I’m not a child of important people. I have an average IQ. There’s nothing special about me. But they need people to come. People who can afford it. Or the human race will die.

For Mom, for Dad, I signed the contract. I paid FreeBot all the money my parents had died saving. For them, I sit in the main floor of this beautiful building waiting for nine o’clock. Waiting for my consciousness to be transferred into a robot.

They promised the procedure is painless. They promise a fifty percent chance of success. I’ll fall asleep, and if everything works, I’ll wake up with a robot body.

Robots don’t need water or air. They don’t need sustenance. Humans won’t be living things anymore. They’ll be able to get passed their resource-devouring tendencies and fix the world. Maybe they can bring back zebras and lions. FreeBot was a dream come true for some, an answer for others.

I don’t know if I believe in a soul, but I do know that this — whatever I am, whatever it is that makes me, me — will die today at nine. In my place will be a silicone and metal thing with my memories and thought patterns.

Something like me will walk this earth forever with all others who could afford the transformation. Those robots will be the new human race. But me, the real me, will die peacefully today. I won’t die of dehydration, or starvation, or suffocation. And that’s a kindness, really.

My mind has slipped away again. Pretty soon, I might be able to finally fall asleep. I glance at the clock. It’s nearly time. I walk around until I find my suite number. A woman at the desk takes my name and card with a big, white smile. I can see the seam around her face where the battery attaches. I want to ask her if she likes being a robot, but I don’t.

Another robot human leads me into the suite. It isn’t what I expected, but I guess I didn’t know what to expect. My little robot me is lying on a bed. A fake Aiden. I’m told to lie on the bed next to it. Electrodes are attached. It takes too long. My heart is hammering and I clench my jaw to avoid vomiting stomach acid.

The human robot makes an empathetic face. He tells me not to be afraid. I want to tell him he’s a robot turning people into robots, but I can’t speak. He won’t care, anyway. I paid for this experience. It’s still better than the way Dad died, gasping and choking. It’s better than Mom’s death, the way she couldn’t even move to relieve herself.

I feel the stab of the needle in my arm. It doesn’t really hurt, but it startles me. I only feel the shock for a moment, the sudden coolness filling my body. I cling to every last sensation, memorizing what living feels like. Hands unsnap my respirator from my face, but my breathing is so shallow I can’t even taste the air anymore.

Light fades, the sensations disappear. I close my eyes and see a lion on the cover of a National Geographic.

“See, Aiden,” my dad says.

I smile at him. “I know.”

[butwhyduh]

Links and Secrets

Peter Parker x Villain!reader pt 4

Warning: torture, language

Word count: 1220

Summary: experiments on mutants. I posted this chapter on the wrong account so I’m reposting it here.

You sat in a room that was glass on one wall and some kind of plastic on the other. An attempt to control your powers. You wore some kind of standard issue clothing. Your outfit was unlabeled and you couldn’t see a label anywhere. The iron man bots had left you in the room and very young and nervous intern had passed a plastic breakfast tray equipped with only a thin plastic spoon. They didn’t trust you with anything that could be used as a weapon.

A man walked to in front of the glass wall and you glared at him. A shady looking portly white man with bifocals and khakis dragged a clear plastic chair across the room to in front of the window. You simply watched him.

“You aren’t my first. First metal or electricity power. I’m being rude. I’m William Striker and I’m here to observe and test the abilities of the mutant community. See how dangerous you are to the general population,” he said looking wolffish. Your skin prickled.

“Why did you take me?” You asked. Your blood felt icy as he looked at you the way someone looked at a nice meal. His intent was clearly to use you.

“To test to see if you should be allowed back into society,” he says ignoring the question of why or how he knew to take you. You were in a private home of a known vigilante and you were taken. Peter must have called him. He must have betrayed you.

“Let’s start with a little experiment,” he said and a man entered the room with a control. He gave it to Striker who turned something on. A few seconds later you were pelted with water. You screamed and then gasped as icy water burned your lungs. The pressure beat bruises into your body where you were hit. He must have turned it off or it ran out of water and it stopped. You shook violently with cold. Your hair and clothes dripped pathetically.

Striker casually wrote the result down in a notebook. He didn’t seem to care that he was torturing a random civilian.

“Why?” You pleaded over and over again unsure if you were asking the Striker man or why Peter let you be taken in the first place. Striker ignored you and instead finished writing in his book before leaving. You fell asleep cold and wet on a rubber floor.

————————————

Peter had froze. He knew that the second the door closed. Why had Mr Stark taken you? What had happened? He called Tony Stark immediately.

“Mr Stark why did you take her?”

“What? I haven’t taken anyone,” Tony said deeply confused. “Slow down. What happened?” His genius mind was already pulling up a map as he realized who Peter meant. The girl from group therapy with new powers.

“Your suits came and grabbed her. She isn’t a threat. Why did you-“

“I did not do anything,” Tony said scanning his iron suits for missing and finding none. “I’m not missing any suits either. What did they look like?”

“All silver but your suits. It wasn’t you?”

“No! I mean, no. I don’t kidnap civilians on the regular, kid,” Tony said typing furiously.

“What happened Mr Stark?” Peter asked.

“I, Uh... don’t know...” Tony said distracted by his computer. His scanning software had picked up something big.

“Are you even listening?” Peter asked angrily.

“Woah, yeah kid. I’m running software. Seems someone got ahold of parts from Sokovia. I’m tracing their location now. You know in the city, you are almost continuously recorded. From street lights to ATMs to store fronts. Whoever this is wasn’t subtle. Come on over,” Tony said. He was getting ready. This had just became personal for Tony Stark. Peter tapped on the window in his suit before climbing in.

“I was on the way. They came and took her and I froze,” he admitted in shame.

“Don’t feel bad kid. Someone with Ironman suits said she was under arrest. Let’s focus on getting her and those suits back,” Tony said. Peter nodded. “I’ve narrowed it down to this area outside of the city,” Tony said pointing to a rural area. “There isn’t a lot of towers or cameras out here. I’m running a tracer I put in every suit. It should pop up soon.”

“We’ve got to find her,” Peter said and tony looked at him and nodded. “Are we going to call the team?”

“No. You said three bots, right?” Tony asked and Peter nodded. “We can take care of it ourself. We’ve fought worse.”

A few hours later computer beeped before showing a location. A clearing in a heavily wooden area apparently held 3 iron man suits and hopefully you.

“Suit up,” Tony said.

“I am,” Peter said back confused.

“I know. It’s a phrase.... Never mind. Let’s go.”

——————————-

You had been burned and injected with various solutions. The water had been done in various temperatures and pressures. It hasn’t taken them long to run through a battery of tests; only a few hours. Your powers had barely flickered with a few of them. As a mutant without control, you had no way to protect yourself.

Striker brought in another test. Some kind of cuffs attached to a box that he plugged in the wall. You tried to fight being placed in the chair but you had little strength against the large men at this point. The cuffs were strapped to your wrist tightly.

“Last test of the day and then you can eat,” Striker said taking his usual place outside the room. He didn’t get his own hands dirty. You simply glared at him. He nodded his head and one of the men flipped a switch and you were shocked.

What should happen is full body spasm as all muscles clench. What happened was your body threw an incredible arc of lightening that exploded the lights and then killed the men in the room. You ripped your arms from the cuffs, scrapping yourself bloody and flung the door open. Your vision began to blacken and there was screaming. You stumbled down the hall. The arcs of electricity dancing off your body kept anyone who saw away. Glass shattered as you moved.

You saw someone in red as you finally lost consciousness and fell to the floor of the hallway.

—————————-

Peter rushes to you in the hall. You looked terrible. Your skin was ashen, wet, and bruised. Your wrists bled as you lay unconscious. Peter gently picked you up. Your power stopped as soon as you fell.

The workers ran in a panic. Iron man bots and Tony quickly arrested all they could see in the mayhem. Peter focused on getting you out.

He carried you down the road before sitting down on a log, worried about you staying unconscious. Peter gently touched your face. You moved a little and he repeated the action.

“Kid, we got to go,” Tony said in his suit. You opened your eyes at his voice and your face froze in horror before you sent electricity uncontrollably. Peter dropped you as his muscles clenched. The iron suit glitched for a second for you to run away. Tony went to chase you.

“Don’t. She’s scared,” Peter said quickly as you disappeared into the woods.

[cartwheelandfaceplant]

Links and Secrets

Peter Parker x reader ch 4

Warning: torture, language, blood

Word count: 1220

Summary: experiments on mutants

You sat in a room that was glass on one wall and some kind of plastic on the other. An attempt to control your powers. You wore some kind of standard issue clothing. Your outfit was unlabeled and you couldn’t see a label anywhere. The iron man bots had left you in the room and very young and nervous intern had passed a plastic breakfast tray equipped with only a thin plastic spoon. They didn’t trust you with anything that could be used as a weapon.

A man walked to in front of the glass wall and you glared at him. A shady looking portly white man with bifocals and khakis dragged a clear plastic chair across the room to in front of the window. You simply watched him.

“You aren’t my first. First metal or electricity power. I’m being rude. I’m William Striker and I’m here to observe and test the abilities of the mutant community. See how dangerous you are to the general population,” he said looking wolffish. Your skin prickled.

“Why did you take me?” You asked. Your blood felt icy as he looked at you the way someone looked at a nice meal. His intent was clearly to use you.

“To test to see if you should be allowed back into society,” he says ignoring the question of why or how he knew to take you. You were in a private home of a known vigilante and you were taken. Peter must have called him. He must have betrayed you.

“Let’s start with a little experiment,” he said and a man entered the room with a control. He gave it to Striker who turned something on. A few seconds later you were pelted with water. You screamed and then gasped as icy water burned your lungs. The pressure beat bruises into your body where you were hit. He must have turned it off or it ran out of water and it stopped. You shook violently with cold. Your hair and clothes dripped pathetically.

Striker casually wrote the result down in a notebook. He didn’t seem to care that he was torturing a random civilian.

“Why?” You pleaded over and over again unsure if you were asking the Striker man or why Peter let you be taken in the first place. Striker ignored you and instead finished writing in his book before leaving. You fell asleep cold and wet on a rubber floor.

————————————

Peter had froze. He knew that the second the door closed. Why had Mr Stark taken you? What had happened? He called Tony Stark immediately.

“Mr Stark why did you take her?”

“What? I haven’t taken anyone,” Tony said deeply confused. “Slow down. What happened?” His genius mind was already pulling up a map as he realized who Peter meant. The girl from group therapy with new powers.

“Your suits came and grabbed her. She isn’t a threat. Why did you-“

“I did not do anything,” Tony said scanning his system of iron suits for missing and finding none. “I’m not missing any suits either. What did they look like?”

“All silver but your suits. It wasn’t you?”

“No! I mean, no. I don’t kidnap civilians on the regular, kid,” Tony said typing furiously.

“What happened Mr Stark?” Peter asked.

“I, Uh... don’t know...” Tony said distracted by his computer. His scanning software had picked up something big.

“Are you even listening?” Peter asked angrily.

“Woah, yeah kid. I’m running software. Seems someone got ahold of parts from Sokovia. I’m tracing their location now. You know in the city, you are almost continuously recorded. From street lights to ATMs to store fronts. Whoever this is wasn’t subtle. Come on over,” Tony said. He was getting ready. This had just became personal for Tony Stark. Peter tapped on the window in his suit before climbing in.

“I was on the way. They came and took her and I froze,” he admitted in shame.

“Don’t feel bad kid. Someone with Ironman suits said she was under arrest. Let’s focus on getting her and those suits back,” Tony said. Peter nodded. “I’ve narrowed it down to this area outside of the city,” Tony said pointing to a rural area. “There isn’t a lot of towers or cameras out here. I’m running a tracer I put in every suit. It should pop up soon.”

“We’ve got to find her,” Peter said and tony looked at him and nodded. “Are we going to call the team?”

“No. You said three bots, right?” Tony asked and Peter nodded. “We can take care of it ourself. We’ve fought worse.”

A few hours later computer beeped before showing a location. A clearing in a heavily wooden area apparently held 3 iron man suits and hopefully you.

“Suit up,” Tony said.

“I am,” Peter said back confused.

“I know. It’s a phrase.... Never mind. Let’s go.”

——————————-

You had been burned and injected with various solutions. The water had been done in various temperatures and pressures. It hasn’t taken them long to run through a battery of tests; only a few hours. Your powers had barely flickered with a few of them. As a mutant without control, you had no way to protect yourself.

Striker brought in another test. Some kind of cuffs attached to a box that he plugged in the wall. You tried to fight being placed in the chair but you had little strength against the large men at this point. The cuffs were strapped to your wrist tightly.

“Last test of the day and then you can eat,” Striker said taking his usual place outside the room. He didn’t get his own hands dirty. You simply glared at him. He nodded his head and one of the men flipped a switch and you were shocked.

What should happen is full body spasm as all muscles clench. What happened was your body threw an incredible arc of lightening that exploded the lights and then killed the men in the room. You ripped your arms from the cuffs, scrapping yourself bloody and flung the door open. Your vision began to blacken and there was screaming. You stumbled down the hall. The arcs of electricity dancing off your body kept anyone who saw away. Glass shattered as you moved.

You saw someone in red as you finally lost consciousness and fell to the floor of the hallway.

—————————-

Peter rushes to you in the hall. You looked terrible. Your skin was ashen, wet, and bruised. Your wrists bled as you lay unconscious. Peter gently picked you up. Your power stopped as soon as you fell.

The workers ran in a panic. Iron man bots and Tony quickly arrested all they could see in the mayhem. Peter focused on getting you out.

He carried you down the road before sitting down on a log, worried about you staying unconscious. Peter gently touched your face. You moved a little and he repeated the action.

“Kid, we got to go,” Tony said in his suit. You opened your eyes at his voice and your face froze in horror before you sent electricity uncontrollably. Peter dropped you as his muscles clenched. The iron suit glitched for a second for you to run away. Tony went to chase you.

“Don’t. She’s scared,” Peter said quickly as you disappeared into the woods.

[frogmanwritings]

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Teen Titans (Animated Series) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Beast Boy/Starfire, Garfield Logan/Koriand'r Characters: Garfield Logan, Beast Boy, Starfire, Koriand'r (DCU), Slade, Slade Wilson, Deathstroke, Robin, Robin (DCU), Dick Grayson, Cyborg (Character), Victor Stone, Raven (DCU), Rachel Roth Garfield Wilson has lived with his adoptive father, Slade, since his parents died. Finally, after 5 years, Slade is sending him out to try and take down his rivals, the Teen Titans. How will a dark and mistreated Garfield react to them upon meeting them? How will he deal with their bright alien bringing a shine of positivity and joy to his life that he had hidden from him behind angst and abuse? Links: Archive of Our Own Fanfiction.net Wattpad

---

Cyborg was in a good mood, whistling up a fancy tune while he carried his glowing blue and silver battery over his shoulder like an 80s high-schooler did with a boom-box, a nice bounce in his step as he went into the common room. While he had recently had to power-down and recharge after he dropped his precious metal power source, things weren't as dangerous as that seemed, and after an hour of rebooting, his power levels were returning to normal. And he estimated that he wouldn't need to carry around the recharger for any longer than a day now, which was a blessing.

While he had come to terms with his robotics a while ago, it was still tough, made even tougher by the fact that he had to heft around a goddamn battery just so he could be conscious. Malfunctions were annoying, but they never really restricted him like carrying a 30lb power source in his arm that had to stay attached to his chest. Not to mention the fact that he only had one arm to carry it around with, given how he had only just now developed an exoskeleton for his destroyed limb during that encounter with Garfield.

Speaking of whom, Victor had taken a bit of time researching the deadly disease that he detected on the villain, and so far, things were frustratingly, but understandingly slim on the Internet, and there were no medical records in the U.S. of 'Sakutia'. So he was simply going off of flimsy reports that he found via Google Search, and the only somewhat credible source he found was about the disappearance of two rangers that went by the names of Mark and Marie Logan. They had a son that had contracted the deadly disease, but.. that was all there was. A singular news article in a foreign language that described the boy with the disease. Nothing about him surviving or dying, nothing about how he got it, just "Son of rangers contracted Sakutia".

Raven herself was recovering nicely, her natural powers made her heal much faster than a normal human, and thus her nose was practically as good as new, while her ribs didn't do much more than ache than she put weight on them. She'd be good to go by tomorrow, and really the only reason she didn't go up with Robin and Starfire to check out the crime-scene of Professor Chang's murder was that she wanted to make sure she was at 100% in case of an emergency.

And it seemed that it was a good decision, as Cyborg's robotic eye and Raven's orbs on her gloves and belt went off not long after their leader and their leader's crush left. Victor figured he'd check just what the danger was, and a grim look crossed his face when he saw the location of the crime, a laboratory in the same block of the lab that Garfield robbed and... murdered a police officer.

He still felt terrible about it, reaching out to the family of the cop's and offering his deepest condolences and apologizes to them for not being able to save the husband and father. They were very forgiving and insisted it wasn't his fault, but the pain in their eyes, the distant cries of their daughter stuffed away in her bedroom... No one said that superhero life was easy, that you weren't going to be able to save everyone, and that there would be casualties, but...

"Cyborg, Raven! I require medical assistance!" The blaring voice of the resident alien broke up his thoughts, and he looked over towards the center entrance to the main-ops, his human eye widening at the sight. Starfire was levitating, her sunglasses and earplugs missing, but it seemed that she cared more for the bodies she was carrying over her shoulders. Not body, but bodies. Raven shot up from the couch she was sat at, zooming over to grab one of the bodies, their own leader's in Robin. His ankle was twisted at an odd angle, blood ran down his thigh and there were scratch marks on his face.

But there was another body, and Cyborg could barely believe it. Garfield Logan was over her right shoulder, and he wasn't in good shape. Both his arm and his side was pouring with scarlet red, and while Robin was stirring in Raven's hold and his domino mask was scrunched up in pain, the apprentice was completely limp, and the only sign that he was alive was the occasional heave in his stomach. But Victor was hesitant, why would he want to help a murderer? As much as he DID blame himself for the cop's unfortunate demise, the changeling was the one who pulled the trigger.

"Star, what about you, are you-" "I am fine! But Garfield is losing lots of blood very quickly and needs your help!" Starfire was many things. Assertive was certainly one of them, and Cyborg reluctantly nodded his head, following the Tamaranean as they headed to the medical bay, letting out a grunt as he thought of the implications of this. He was really going to nurse a villain, and a murderer at that, back to health. Curse Kori's heart.

"And Cyborg.. you mentioned that this Garfield has 'Sakutia', correct?" Her bright voice asked, and after the half-robot nodded, she had another question. "And this 'Sakutia' disease is spread through biting, yes?" And while a part of Cyborg wanted to break down fully the ways of contacting Sakutia, that it could be from biting to blood transfer to sometimes even being spat on, he just nodded his head once more to make things simple for his friend, who sometimes had trouble taking in Earthen things. Not to say that she was dumb, of course! But... he imagined it to be extremely difficult to have perfect knowledge of both Tamaran's AND Earth's cultures, traditions, languages, sayings, activities, etc. The fact that she knew so much already and picked up onto more each and every day was a sign of her great intelligence.

"Oh no... Garfield bit Robin in the leg during their fight, I wasn't-" Victor didn't wait for her to finish her statement, be it her blaming herself or voicing her condolences for Robin's safety, he wasn't about to jog while his leader had potentially contradicted one of the deadliest diseases in the world. He ran as fast as his battery could pump power into him, catching up to Raven in the process and snatching the squirming body of Robin in the process from her arms, ignoring her exasperated protest as he got the Boy Wonder to the med-bay as fast as possible.

Robin better be okay, for Garfield's sake..

Excruciating pain welcomed Garfield as his eyes shot open, reaching up to cup his head, only to meet cold metal resistance. Trying to raise his other hand, he only met the same result, which led to him glancing downward. The room he was in was rather dark, so his tired gaze could barely make out what sort of position he was in. He was laid down, neck and head propped up by a few pillows, while his wrists were strapped down onto two armrests by what seemed to be steel restraints. An idle beeping sound brought him to look at a white machine taped to his right index finger, running all the way to a heart monitor.

Wherever he was, it seemed to be some sort of medical-bay. Like a hospital. But what hospital would accept a green-skinned, murdering, diseased villain?

His wounds on his arm and his side were taped up, and while he remembered feeling far worse, his muscles were still somewhat sluggish and pain still raked at his torso. Getting stabbed will do that. "Hey!" Garfield called out, struggling a bit more against his metal straps, attempting to kick his legs up only to meet the same resistance as he did with his hands. The situation almost reminded him of a comment Professor Chang said, about strapping him down and experimenting on him. Of course, he was credited for the death of the Professor, even though it was his father who ended the elder's life. How he would've liked to be the one to be the one who put down the doctor.

Some worry crept on him as the thought crossed his mind, and the changeling once again called out, exerting as much force in his attempts to escape as he could, but it was all met with the same result of him being stuck in the hospital bed. Any transformation attempts were met with a simple prickle running through his spine and.. nothing. Wherever he was and whatever it is that his adversaries did to him, it left him without the ability to shift into any sort of animal forms, restraints or not.

Garfield's third attempt to call out was interrupted by a loud sliding sound, and glancing upward, even the darkest of rooms couldn't hide those shining emeralds for eyes that stared at him so curiously. And.. worriedly? He had a faint memory of her standing over him before he went out, but he couldn't make out her emotions there. Here? It was crystal clear that she looked at him with many emotions that led to him being even more confused than her.

"You are awake, are you alright?" Her soft voice questioned him, a finger sliding up to a switch right next to the door and a few ceiling lights turned on afterwards, annoying Garfield's dark-adjusted eyes for a few seconds before he was able to fully look at Starfire again. "Uh.. where am I?" The changeling answered her question with a question of his own, the layout of a medical room much clearer with the lights on, white tile and white-painted walls an eye-sore, along with a few other hospital beds and desks with many equipment on them.

"You are at Titans Tower. You were in very poor condition when I caught up to you after your fight." She began to explain, slowly floating over bedside to Garfield's bed, causing him to quickly gulp as those twinkling green eyes got ever so closer to him, peering at him and only him with such curiosity. And when he did gulp, he noticed how the saliva traveled much easier and quicker down his throat, but that wasn't much of a concern for him at the moment. "I.. would have felt very guilty leaving you there. You were bleeding heavily and you were unconscious before I could even think about assisting you."

So I HAVE been captured. Great. He growled in his head, only imagining how disappointed his father was going to be in him. "Speaking of which." An orange hand then reached out to his gut, causing him to flinch and suck in his stomach, trying to avoid her touch as much as he could. "Please don't worry, I am not going to hurt you. I merely wish to check on your wounds." Her voice was... actually very comforting, and a quick look upward into her eyes told him that she was telling the truth. Something so sincere and sweet like the shine in her orbs told him that she meant him no harm, and he slowly allowed exhaled.

Garfield's top, which had been cut up a bit, didn't require much tugging in order to expose his stomach, his toned abs covered up by several colorless bandages that wrapped all the way around his torso. Two long fingers pressed against his side, causing a small hiss to escape his clenched teeth, the pain aching as she poked at where he had been stabbed. "Ah, sorry. Is the pain.. um, sharp? Or blunt?" Starfire asked, once again pressing her fingers at the same spot, this time much gentler. Once again, the pain shot through his stomach, this time Garfield taking note of the pain being much more of an ache than a stabbing pain.

"Blunt? You mean.. dull?" The changeling questioned, letting out a small sigh as the fingers retreated back. "Yes, that is the word! I presume that is how the pain is like then?" She perked up, and while she was correct in her assumption, he was... confused. Why did she even care? She was nice, sure, but it was the dead of night, judging by his outlook of a nearby window. He did recall Slade pointing out her kindness could be exploited, and while it was odd.. he might as well try and use it to his advantage.

"Can I go now?" Garfield asked, putting on his best sad frown and even if it didn't work, it gave him an excuse to stare into her eyes, something he was avoiding for so long. But it seemed that while she was kind, she wasn't dumb, as she just shook her head without giving his eyes a single glance. "Unfortunately not. As much as I dislike the word, you are our prisoner." She solemnly stated, earning a grunt of disappointment from the changeling's throat.

"You have done... very bad things, Garfield. You should consider yourself lucky we are providing you shelter and medicine after all you've done." Starfire continued, floating over to a nearby table with a stack of papers on a clipboard, along with a pen placed down next to it. "Do you think your actions are justified? Using your extraordinary powers to steal, harm, even... kill?" Her words were firm and forward, though her tone hardly wavered as she picked up the pen, casually tested it for ink before beginning to scribble words down onto a paper.

Narrowing his eyes, Garfield felt.. attacked. He didn't take offense to the words she threw, in part of that having to do with her soft voice still possessing that caring nature that he had been able to recognize in the short periods of time when he heard her speak. But, it still felt like a bullet fired from a gun, only to intercepted by a bulletproof vest. She WAS attempting to guilt him, but he wasn't about to let that work, even if he was wondering about her other motives. "Why do you care?" Logan said in a monotone voice, careful to try and not let his curiosity be apparent.

The Tamaranean opened her mouth, seemingly to answer him, but nothing came out and soon she closed it after only uttering a sigh. "Get some sleep, Garfield. Robin and the others wish to speak to you in the morning, and it would be best if you were well rested for that." Her voice lost emotion as she gave him the small breakdown, not giving the changeling the chance to question what she had just told him before the lights were shut off and her tall frame disappeared behind a door.

Weirdo. He quietly huffed, figuring he might as well get some rest before he was interrogated by the Boy Wonder and the hospital bed was fairly comfortable. Still, his mind was racing with what had just transpired, with her checking on him carefully and showing interest into his motives. Those twinkling eyes never lost their shine, her voice only wavering at the end of their conversation.

God, what was wrong with him?

His slumber didn't last long however, with the feeling of metal pressing against his forehead causing him to shoot his eyes open, only to see the half-man known as Cyborg playfully poking his face. "Wake up, sleepyhead." He teased, giving the changeling's nose a 'boop' before walking away, just in time for his metallic finger to avoid an angry bite. "Let... me out!" Garfield growled, struggling against his restraints, using all the strength he could muster, but alas, it was no use.

"You're not going to break those, you know?" A calm, yet vindicating voice was the next to irritate the changeling, and Gar turned his head to look at the owner of that voice, recognizing it to belonging to the goth heroine of the team, Raven. "Those restraints are tight enough to trap Cyborg over there, and I sincerely doubt you are as strong as him. So save your energy." Her voice held quite obvious disdain for him, and it wasn't hard to tell why once his green eyes captured the bruise that was on the bridge of her nose.

A smirk crossed his face upon noticing it, knowing that it was from him, from when he wasn't restrained and she couldn't just taunt him like a coward. And it seemed she noticed his facial expression, to which he caught her frown only grow wider and her eyes darted away from him. Subtle black energy radiated from her fingers for a few brief moments before fading, and Garfield remembered that anger was considered both a strength and a weakness of hers. Get her angry enough, and she loses all restraint in her power and becomes a monster of rage. Good for strategy, but if that strategy failed, then she wouldn't hesitate to kill you.

He wasn't exactly in a position to abuse that, and he knew that he'd only get more frustrated trying to fire her up, since he was the one in restraints. So, the changeling just turned his attention back to the metal holding him in place, trying once more to break out of them.

"Really, not even a 'thank you.'? And here I thought we were doing you a huge favor here." Cyborg soon spoke, his mostly robotic face turning back to look at him, a slight chuckle escaping from his mouth when he noticed the resistance to his restraints. "First, we heal up your wounds, since while you do have enhanced healing thanks to your messed up DNA, you still wouldn't have lasted too long out there without medical attention due to all the bleeding you were doing. And really, I was fairly hesitant in closing up those wounds since well, I thought you got your dirty Sakutia disease in Robin from when you were fighting him."

Garfield raised a brow, not really wanting to listen to all to this speech, but the part about him dying did unfortunately catch his attention. As well as him potentially infecting Robin, which did make the corner of his lips raise a bit. "Oh, don't get your hopes up, green bean. Turns you can't actually spread Sakutia." Victor was quick to point out, which halted the apprentice's slow smile and brought it back down to a pout. "Yeah, that was a hassle though, cleaning up the injuries you put on my boy. But still, stitched up your stab wound, injected you with some fresh new blood and gave you oxygen. And even after doing all of that, we let you stay here instead of sending you off to prison. Bet that would've been a rude awakening for you."

"Are you trying to guilt me or something, you trash can? Your alien chick already tried that." The changeling growled, getting quite a bit annoyed of hearing a list of the things the Titans did for him, as if he personally asked for all of that. If he could've ran away from Starfire and not pass out, he would've. "Trash can, huh? Your words are like a knife to my heart, you know?" Cyborg chuckled, to which Garfield huffed: "If you even have a heart."

"Oh yeah, it's still in there. Got about 20 layers of machinery covering it, but it's there. But back to what I was saying..." But before the half robot could continue his ear-racking speech, the swishing sound of the med-bay door opening up interrupted him and a shudder went through Logan's body. Robin stared daggers at him, and with good reason, his leg wrapped up in bandages and he had a crutch pressed up against his armpit that he used to help him walk, and Starfire followed him through the door, meeting his gaze for a few brief moments before glancing away.

"Alright, let's skip to the chase, Garfield." The Boy Wonder said with a grunt, his green gloved hands pressing against the rail at the end of the bed, his domino mask bared right at him and a slight snarl on his face. "There's enough on you to put you away for life and more, and as much as you do deserve it, you and I both know that this... isn't entirely your fault." His grim voice practically growled at him, his head turning briefly over towards Cyborg and nodding, inviting him to speak.

"He's right. We know about your past, Garfield. Or at least, enough to know that this isn't what you were meant to be." The half robot then continued where his leader left off, opening up a small hatch on his arm, metallic fingers typing rapidly at the futuristic keyboard. Garfield pouted, his brows furrowing. What could they possibly know? His past..? It did take him a bit to catch on, and once he did, his eyes widened just a bit, not wanting to show much emotion to them, but his surprise was hard to contain.

"The reason you can't spread your Sakutia like animals infected with it is because you were given something that altered your DNA and made the disease apart of it. I can test your blood and detect you have Sakutia, but you can't actually spread it through typical means." Cyborg told him, bringing up a biological map of his body and blood from the computer in his metallic forearm, pointing out his blood cells flowing through his veins, each of them containing a small bit of the deadly disease.

Gar could only growl in response, not meeting Cyborg's face as he told him. However, a new face joined him next to his bed in the demon, Raven, her expression calmed, as well as her voice as she spoke. "Of course, this progression wasn't natural. You would've needed medical attention almost instantly after getting infected, and while Slade's smart, Sakutia is almost a complete unknown disease in western civilization."

"Don't talk like you know him, witch." Logan grunted, banging his wrists on his restraints, knowing where this was going and not wanting to hear it. "We don't need to know him, Garfield. Because we DO know who saved your life. Your real parents." Robin cut in, his hands gripping the bar of the hospital bed tight. "Mark and Marie Logan. Your father was a genius, he managed to save your life with a chemical that merged the Sakuta with your DNA, and even gave you your powers as a side effect."

"Shut up.." Garfield growled, the lower half of the bed rattling thanks to his attempted kicking, but alas, all it did was provide a minor annoyance. "You don't.. fucking know me." Memories of his past life were hitting him, being bit by that damn monkey, traveling from continent to continent, all to that forsaken boat trip. Oh, how he wanted to tear that blasted Boy Wonder to pieces for doing this to him. Tying him up like a damn dog, trying to act superior by talking about his life...

"We know enough to know you did not have a very good upbringing, at least, from when your K'Norfkas had passed and beyond." Starfire interjected, hovering over to the side of his bed, looking down at him with those wide eyes, sparkling with sympathy for him. Sympathy that he didn't ask for! He knew enough about their pasts too, and yet they didn't hear him serenade them about it! So what if his parents were dead? That didn't matter now, he was living the life he was given and he didn't need others to talk to him about it.

A sigh escaped Robin's mouth before he spoke once more, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Whatever happened, be it you went to him or Slade found you... you don't owe him a damn thing, Garfield. He's a monster, and he's trying to make you the same as him." The Boy Wonder paused, glancing off to his right for a few brief moments. "Or, more likely, he's using you because of your powers for his own personal gain. I know him, he tried to make me his apprentice. And he did nothing but use me and try and manipulate me."

Logan's arms jerked once more, his mind running wild. He tried once more to transform, this time into the form of a grizzly bear, raising his body up, only for nothing to happen as his body flopped back down onto the bed. "And you can't shift right now. We replaced that collar of yours on your neck with one that restrains your powers. Even then, it's still more humane than that strap Slade had on your neck, surprised you could breath with it on." Cyborg explained, his human eye glancing over to a faraway table, where the metal collar laid.

The changeling snarled upon seeing it. Some days, he hated the damn thing. The half-machine was right, sometimes it was hard to breath with it, and it being off explained why it was easier for him to swallow, but right now? He loved the damn thing. It was something made for him by his father. For him to wear. Plus, it was easy to hate the replacement when the replacement took away his powers.

"The point is, Garfield... you don't owe Slade a thing. He isn't your father, fathers don't treat their sons like he does to you." Robin continued, his knuckles squeezing down tighter on the bar, his knuckles sure to be pale white underneath his green gloves. And that's when Gar had it. His attempts to escape got the most vicious he had, his teeth were gritting, upper lip raised in a snarl. "How dare you? Without him, I'd be dead! He saved my life, gave me a home, food, training-" "That doesn't make him your father. With his intentions, it simply makes him a supplier. He rubs your back with shelter, and you rub his by doing his dirty work."

"Fucking poetic coming from you, Grayson! Can you tell me who your dad is?" The apprentice growled, his rage joined in by slight satisfaction upon seeing Robin's eyes widen beneath his mask, even it was for a few seconds and he adjusted himself.

"Gray... what now?" Raven asked out on confusion, one of her brows perking upward and glancing questionably at Robin, who didn't meet her gaze. His other teammates joined in at looking at him, wondering much the same. He didn't even tell them. Who is he to talk down to me?! Gar thought, happy to see the embarrassed tint on the cheeks of the leader.

"That.. isn't important right now." He shakily acknowledged his teammates, before turning back to the restrained apprentice. "Batman is a far different man than Slade. Batman never had his own personal gain in mind when he took me in. He is a selfless man. Slade is nothing but selfish." The Boy Wonder replied, his brows far more furrowed, a hard pout on his face while Logan could easily match the look.

"Then why'd you leave him?"

"To become my own man."

"Your own man surrounded by teammates to do your bidding?"

The beeping of the Titans' communicators then interrupted the conversation, Cyborg being the first to check his and pouting once he saw what came up on his screen. "Uh.. Robin. It's Slade... and he wants Garfield." Victor told his leader, who let out a puff of air through his nostrils at the word, shutting his eyes firmly behind his mask before responding. "Tell him he can't have him."

"Robin... he has a hostage. He's threatening to kill them within the next 10 minutes unless we come with Garfield."

[caranfindel]

Recap/review 14.18: “Absence”

THEN: I am a Winchester! Which means I do awful and wonderful things! Like saving Sam (Saaaaaammmm!!!) and torturing Nick and doing Something Bad to Mary! And possibly losing my soul! Whoopsie!

NOW: Sam and Dean are just getting back to the bunker after the events of the previous episode. I assume they've given Donatello a ride home (which, as we've established, is x hours away), but maybe they stuck him in a cab like they did with Claire that one time. Maybe they found a car for him back at the abandoned warehouse. Sam drops his bag on the map table and they both start calling for Jack and Mary, but aren't too terribly concerned about them not being there. "They probably just stopped for a bite on the way back," Dean hypothesizes, when they settle in the library with a couple of beers. Um. Jack zapped them to Nick's cabin, didn't he? So what is on the "way back?" Are they going to zap to a McDonald's first? What is important is that Sam is still wearing that orange plaid shirt. And they're both pretty unperturbed, even for them, about what just happened.

Here's to another miraculous Sam Winchester survival. Gotta say, man, if Jack hadn't have healed you... you know, lately, it feels like we'd be up the creek without that kid. I mean, first he takes care of Michael, and then Nick...

I know, and he even got the blood out of my new orange plaid shirt, which means I can keep wearing it for this entire episode.

Yeah, I been meaning to talk to you about that. You've been adding a lot of orange to your wardrobe lately.

Just this shirt and that one jacket.

It's more orange than anyone needs. Sure, it fits you great, but so does that red and black plaid. Why don't you wear that shirt some more? Or that solid black shirt you have?

Sorry, but you know I'm a Texas fan. You're just going to have to put up with the orange.

At least I think that's how the conversation went. I could be remembering wrong.

I'm just saying. It's a lot of orange.

The point is, Dean appreciates Jack and recognizes everything he's done for them. Dean pulls out his phone to call her and they hear a buzzing, which is her phone, on the map table, right to Sam's bag. Sam, I know you're recently back from the dead (or near-dead) but it does seem like you would have noticed the phone there. (Also, how close is the library to war room? This makes it look like the map table is practically in the library.) Her keys are next to her her phone, and it's not until this very moment that I realize they didn't know she and Jack zapped to the cabin - they must have thought she and Jack drove there. Because obviously they didn't have a lot of conversation about it. Even though they had a long drive back and it does seem like Sam would have called his mother and asked how their end went.

Anyway. They're perturbed now. Sam tries to call Jack and we see him, staring, ignoring Sam's call.

Title card! (ha ha, I forgot we were still in the Now.)

The guys are making phone calls to all their contacts, and Sam reports Rowena has a spell that might be able to track Jack down. Oh, I love that Sam calls Rowena for help. LOVE IT. Dean gets a call from Cas and gives him the scoop. "Were they together?" Cas asks. “Alone?" Cas looks more Cassy than usual, and then tells Dean about the snake. "I don't think Jack is well, Dean," he says. Dean hangs up on him, which seems kind of rude, but neither he nor Sam act like the snake story is particularly significant. Then Sam gets the brilliant idea to track Jack's phone. (Sidebar: Should Cas be able to use his angelic powers to locate Mary and/or Jack? Discuss.)

Sam fires up the phone tracking website and expositions that they should be able to track him as long as his phone has power. (Listen, guys. You need Find My Friends. Best parent app EVER. It locates him in Nepal, but then he immediately appears in Peru. "Jack's flying," Sam says.

Eventually Jack tires of Paris and Lima and Madagascar and and flops to the ground back at the Cabin of Death, next to Nick's stolen truck. He pulls out his phone, revealing a low battery (so much for that plan, Sam) and several missed calls and messages from the rest of TFW 2.0. He has some flashbacks to happier times with Mary, and then in the background we notice someone standing on the porch of the cabin. They're wearing jeans, and their face is hidden in the darkness, and I'm open to the possibility that Jack actually zapped Mary somewhere instead of killing her (and according to the 14.17 poll, some of you are also open to this), so for a second I think it's going to be Mary standing there. But no.

On the TV:

Nick?

Hmm. Guess again. Hello, son.

At my house:

OH FUCK.

?

Sorry. I'm just really tired of him.

So, after Jack left to do more important things (Saaaaaaammmmmm!!!!), Lucifer made it back into the world? I mean, this is awful, but it would mean Lucifer is the Big Bad instead of Nick, so... not ALL awful? But it's not Lucifer either - "I'm your subconscious, or whatever," he says. Oh god, it's Hallucifer. Jack has his own version of Hallucifer, JUST LIKE HIS PRIMARY DAD. He's here to help, allegedly, though he doesn't seem all that helpful. "Buddy, you killed Mary Winchester. You cannot come back from that, and you know it." Well. I guess she's officially dead, then. Or is she? Where's the body? I mean, Hallucifer is just Jack's subconscious. So if Jack thinks he killed Mary, so does Hallucifer. That doesn't make it so. Jack tells Hallucifer that it was an accident, and he's all, sure, tell Sam and Dean that, I'm sure they'll understand. (It's funny because it's not true!)

Cut to the Winchesters, driving through the night. Sam expositions that Cas will meet them at the cabin (how do any of them even know where this cabin is?) and speculates that maybe Lucifer is behind whatever happened, not Jack. And maybe Jack thought he was being kind when he killed the snake. Because Sam is grasping for anything that exonerates his son (sob!). But Dean's not accepting it and doesn't want to talk about it. Then Sam's laptop or tablet or whatever he's using beeps with notification that Jack's signal has been lost. Uh oh. (So I guess that's how they found the cabin?) Oooh, yes, we actually get confirmation that it's in Longton "KA" (which doesn't exist and I suspect is supposed to be KS, SERIOUSLY, GUYS).

Longton KANSAS is 4.5 hours from Lebanon. In case anyone but me is curious.

When they get to the cabin, there's no sign of Jack or Mary or Hallucifer. Just the stolen truck. Sam goes inside and Dean looks outside and oh, who's going to be the one to find the body? First I'm sure it's going to be Sam, because there's a lumpy pile of blankets on the bed, but it must just be blankets, and Sam doesn't even look under them. He does find a body, but it's Nick, not Mary. And then I'm sure it's going to be Dean, because he comes across something disturbing outside and ignores Sam's calls. But what he found is... well, it's hard to see what it is in the dark. Apparently it's a blast zone. A big one.

Cas is sitting in his truck somewhere, having his own warm and fuzzy Mary flashback where she eats a candy bar after a hunt without washing her hands and refuses to let Cas heal her because she's still a little bit afraid of him. He tells her that, no matter what other things there are to deal with, Sam and Dean are glad she's here. "Finally they don't have to be so alone." Wow, that's a dumb thing to say. Mary agrees with me and says "Castiel, they were never alone. And if they were, me being here wouldn't fix that, since I'm always off doing other things." That's how I remember it, anyway. Reverie over, Cas gets out of the truck to face the music - he's at the Cabin of Death.

Inside, Sam is covering Nick's body. He and Dean have some concerned conversation about whether Nick deserved whatever Jack did to him and conclude that Jack must have made it as painful as possible or otherwise killed him in some inappropriate way. And there are very good, valid reasons for them to come to this conclusion. I mean, I can't think of them right now, after watching the episode twice and ruminating for several hours, but I'm sure something will come to me very soon. Let me just go check my Tumblr feed again. I bet they're there.

(Seriously. Nick looks like he was burned out by an angel. That's all.)

They're surprised when Cas walks in, because they didn't hear his giant truck or see his headlights in the dark Cabin of Death. They tell him they haven't found anything except the blast site that looks like something "angelic, but bigger." Dean theorizes that it could have been Lucifer, but Sam points out that Jack said he took care of Lucifer, and I'm not sure why they've reversed their positions. Because in the car, Sam was the one who thought it might have been Lucifer. Script mix-up? Someone brought Jensen the wrong pages? Anyway. Dean says "If he did something to her, if she is... then you're dead to me." Pointing as Cas, because Cas knew something was wrong with Jack. Well, that hardly seems fair. When he first told you the snake story, Dean, you didn't think it meant anything at all. But NOW, all of a sudden, it was some ironclad harbinger of doom?

"I was scared. I believed in Jack for so long. I believed that he was good. I knew that he would be good for the world. He was good for us. My faith in him, it never wavered, and then I saw what he did. It wasn't malice, it wasn't evil, it was like Jack saw a problem and he solved it, with that snake. What he did wasn't bad. It was the absence of good, and I saw that in him. But we were a family and I didn't want to lose that..."

And I'm going to stop here, because this is the most important part of Cas's speech. This is the core issue. Jack's not bad, he just might not be good either. He thought he was doing the right thing. And he's family. Is any of this familiar, Dean? Any of it at all? Cas also says that he wanted to "fix it" on his own, so he left and didn't tell anyone. Neither brother asks how he thought he was going to fix it, but I guess they'll get the story of the failed faux Samulet someday. Right now we just have Sam looking sad and guilty and Dean looking angry and guilty but mostly angry.

Sam's phone rings - it's Rowena. She says she was unable to scry Jack because "his energy is too unstable; it's like looking at the sun." And as for Mary? "I don't know what happened, or where she is, but I can tell you with certainty - Mary Winchester is no longer on this earth." At this point, I'm still ready to accept that she's been zapped to a different dimension. I mean, there's no body. But TFW accepts it as her being dead, and Dean starts throwing furniture and Sam is despondent and flinchy (and hoo boy, I love that combination.)

So what do we do?

What do we always do when we lose one of our own?

Bad things. Very bad things. He declares "we fight to bring them back." And they will call on Rowena, because "she's got the Book of the Damned; she's resurrected herself more times than we can count." (Not to quibble, but we've only seen her resurrected twice. You yourself have been resurrected more times than that, Dean.) He orders Cas to go to Heaven and find Mary, and orders Sam to tell Rowena they're on their way. Mmmm, angry bossy Dean. I like that combination too.

Another thing I like about this scene is that it's one of those times when Sam turns into the little brother. When he looks at Dean and asks "what do we do," because that's how this works.

So much to like.

We go to Rowena's place, and if you're wondering where she lives and how far it is from the Cabin of Death, you're not alone. She's working away on her spell, though it sounds like she says cumin so maybe it's actually a chili recipe, when someone bangs on her door. "That was fast," she says. But when she answers the door... oh god, it's Jack, and for the first time in this episode I actually feel some concern. DO NOT HURT HER, JACK. (Rowena, I apologize for not appreciating you when you first arrived on the scene. I adore you now and you must remain.)

She pretends she doesn't know what happened, asking if he's well and telling him 2/3 of his dads are looking for him. He admits he accidentally killed Mary by just thinking it for a second and oh, imagine how horrible that would be, if the awful things that popped into your mind for one second actually came to pass. Or maybe I have more intrusive thoughts than y'all do. Anyway. "I need to undo it," he says. "You need to help me undo it." She explains that the magic she normally uses has to be in place before you die, so he suggest the book (I adore the way she says book) and she tells him about the spell. It requires "enormous power" but simple ingredients that could probably be found in the bunker.

Someone bangs on the door again - it's Dean. Jack accuses her of stalling, but they only talked for like 90 seconds, so, okay. She asks him to talk to his "kin," but he grabs her arm. Sam kicks the door in (with hair in his face and yes it is hot) but it's too late - Jack has zapped her out.

Sadly, I have not found a gif yet, so this will have to do.

Cut to Cas at the Stairway to Heaven, calling for Naomi. No one responds.

Jack and Rowena appear in the bunker, and he pulls her along, but happens to notice some gouges in the floor. And now we get another flashback. Mary is trying to teach him how to handle a knife, and he keeps dropping it on the floor. She's all sweet and supportive and blah blah blah, and Jack says Dean will kill him for gouging the floor when they get him back, so this must be during the Michael!Dean period. Mary pulls the table over to cover the damaged floor, but who is that in the background? It's bearded Sam! Oh, long lost Beard of Despair! How I've missed you! (Is it fake? Is it real? Was this a deleted scene? Or did they plan for what was coming, and film this before he shaved it off? Does Jared just grow a beard that quickly? I DO NOT CARE.)

He feels bad for not being there for Jack while he was busy looking for Dean, and then he apologizes for complaining to her. But she's relieved not to be the only one with "parental guilt." Because they went through so much without her, and then things were "complicated" when she got back. "I'm just saying, parenting is always a struggle. You always feel like you're failing, but then you look at them, and somehow, they're amazing. Somehow, they're literally the bravest, kindest, most heroic men on the planet." Well, this is true. Very true. And I'm glad she's giving Sam the praise and validation he SO deserves but come on, Mary. What do you know about parenting? You did it for four years. When did you feel like you were failing six-month-old Sam?

YES, MARY, I WANT TO TOUCH IT TOO

Fade to Sam. Interesting that Jack's warm fuzzy flashback turned into Sam's. (It's because Sam is his primary dad! It is known!) They're still at Rowena's, and Dean is still ranting about Cas not telling them about the snake. EVEN THOUGH DEAN DIDN'T CARE ABOUT THE SNAKE WHEN CAS FIRST TOLD HIM.

Cas, Cas should have told us. As soon as he saw Jack going Dahmer on his stupid snake, he should have told us.

Dean, it wasn't just Cas. We knew Jack was dangerous. We always knew. Long before he killed Michael. You more than anyone. I mean, from the very beginning you knew. But, you know, we fell for him, because he had a good heart and a good soul. And then, he didn't. And that's on me, too, by the way. I mean, I'm the one that made the call to bring him back. He didn't ask for that. I decided for him. And you warned me.

Oooh. Sam. No. Because:

1) Dean didn't KNOW from the very beginning. He was, in fact, WRONG at the very beginning, when he thought Jack was evil. Jack was not evil, and you insisted on giving him a chance, and YOU WERE RIGHT. Jack becoming "evil" in the future (and he's not even EVIL, he's just naive and untrained and too powerful for his own good) wasn't anything Dean predicted.

b) Dean didn't exactly fight very hard to stop Sam from bringing Jack back. Seems like most of his concern was that it wouldn't work, not that it was a bad idea in and of itself.

Then Sam says "You know, after Maggie and the other hunters died, I just left. I just dumped Jack on Cas and left." Well, I'm not a big fan of "Maggie and the other hunters" (reminds me too much of "Sting and the Police" and I don't know why Maggie - or Sting - were so damn special that they deserved to be singled out as the only ones in the group with a name), but I also don't have any memory of Sam leaving after Michael killed the other hunters. And when he did, he wanted to take Jack, but Dean wouldn't let him. But Sam says he knew something was going to happen and he's wallowing in guilt. Dean admits that he also knew there was a risk, because of what Donatello told him about not being sure. Well, thank Chuck for that. I'm glad Dean's not letting Sam shoulder all the blame for something that wasn't his fault.

Angry Dean and sad Sam, two things I adore.

Back at the bunker, Rowena is gathering her cumin and other ingredients. Jack's getting impatient, and she tells him that she could have fought him, but she didn't. "Because you want the same thing the boys want. That I want." This is a beautiful, beautiful moment, with Rowena wanting what "the boys" want, but it's interrupted by Hallucifer, who doesn't even know why Jack is doing any of this. "To ease your guilt? But you don't have guilt any more, do you, Jack? Admit it. You don't feel anything any more." Well. Everything Hallucifer says comes from Jack's head, so what do we think about this? Does Jack really not feel anything any more? I disagree. If he didn't feel anything, if he didn't want Mary back, if he didn't care about forgiveness, why would he even bother? So I think our boy does feel something. Rowena is disturbed by Jack talking to his hallucination, but she carries on and finishes the spell. They have everything they need except the body. Oh.

Stairway to Heaven. Cas isn't going anywhere until Naomi talks to him. Someone finally shows up, but it's Duma.

Where's Naomi?

Well, I'd tell you it's none of your business, but you already know it's none of your business. Naomi just gets paid more than I do, and we've already got all the regular guest stars in this episode, so we had to cut some corners.

At least that's how I remember it. She tells him Mary is at peace in "a special Heaven" and "is complete" and he should just let her be.

Jack takes Rowena to the Cabin of Death, but Mary's body isn't there. He thinks she should be able to complete the spell anyway, but she says she can't. He wants to do it himself, but she says he's in no shape, and "disposition affects execution." She tells him that whatever he brings back won't be Mary, and refuses to help him and OH I'M CONCERNED FOR HER AND HE REACHES OUT AND PUSHES HER and she just ends up being shoved back into her apartment. WHEW. She calls Sam and tells him what Jack is doing, and that it won't work because there's no body, and Jack has snapped and they need to stop him." Necromancy is a delicate art, unpredictable under ideal circumstances. In his state, I fear your boy will bring back something terrible." WELL, THAT'S ENCOURAGING. (Also, Rowena is hilarious in this scene.)

Jack sits in the corpse-less blast zone and performs the ritual and a huge swirling purple cloud appears overhead and I'm thinking, is this our out? Is Jack going to summon something awful, something that can be the Big Bad so he doesn't have to? Please? He notices the Impala nearby, and uses his powers to stop it in its tracks. Luckily it's just right outside the cabin. Sam and Dean run toward him, and we see him looking down at whatever he has summoned, but he doesn't look happy about it. Neither do the Winchesters. "It didn't work," he says, before zapping out.

Oh, the thing he brought back is Mary. Well, Mary's corpse, apparently. Dean holds her and finds her still dead, and he's sad and we get his flashback, which is just Mary leaning on him, asleep in the car, and then Sam comes and holds Dean as he holds Mary and everybody's sad, we're all sad, so terribly terribly sad and we get a crane shot and it's a very lovely scene but I can't help thinking um, correct me if I'm wrong, but we do have that missing piece now, right?

Jack ends up at some industrial kind of place, where Hallucifer tells him there's no going back. "Cas, Sam, Dean, they're never going to trust you again. And you know what that means. You can never trust THEM." And oh, this is Jack's head telling him that. Poor baby.

Bunker. Sam has his box of treasures and he's looking at the few remaining family photos. He looks up, full of hope, when Cas comes in. But Cas tells him Mary is in Heaven and at peace. Dean shows up in time to hear this, and asks if he's just going to take Duma's word for it, because she's a known liar and also might possibly be that dude from The Empty. He says no, he actually saw Mary's Heaven, and we see her door with the dates 1954-1983 and 2016-2019 on it, which of course begs the question of what Sam and Dean's doors are going to look like.

He says he saw her with John (way to bury the lede, Cas), and they're full of joy. But was it really John? Haven't we established that most people are in their own individual Heavens, and if she has a John, it's just an avatar? I mean, John's name wasn't on the door. And I expect Dean, at least, to insist they try to bring her back anyway. But Sam says Rowena told him that what Jack brought back was just an empty replica, "incapable of holding life." (I mean, I feel like that sometimes.) "So what are we supposed to do now?" he asks. And again, Sam is looking to Dean to lead them through this, and yet he's got to know what they SHOULD do. He's got to be thinking of Mary, safe and happy in Heaven, and of ripping someone (anyone, no one in particular, right Sam?) away from that and forcing them to continue on Earth just because you can't be without them. He's got to be thinking of that.

"What we always do," Dean says. And the last time he said that, in this very episode, it meant we do something awful, we throw our own lives away or make some horrible bargain or damn the world in order to bring her back. But this time, it just means that we give her a hunter's funeral. And Sam doesn't look like he was ready for that after all.

So Mary gets a very dramatic pyre, and a montage? Did anyone else get a montage? Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Kevin, Crowley? JOHN? ANYONE? A FREAKING MONTAGE? NO. Grrr. Cas tries to get closer to Dean and Sam puts out a hand and stops him. Also, Sam burns a photo of her and I don't know why.

And finally, we cut to the library table where Sam and Dean carved their initials and we see they are joined by a M.W. Um. What about John? Didn't he get to carve his intials? (NO. Those are only for people who get a montage.)

Also, now that I'm going back to get screencaps, it doesn't look like her intials were there at the beginning of the episode. So she didn't carve them, one of the guys did. And not Dad's? Cold, boys.

You know, last week, like, five or ten minutes before the end of the episode, I thought if Jack hadn't cemented his place in Dean's heart already, he's certainly there now. Because he saved Sam. No matter what else Jack did or is doing or will do, he saved Sam. And I want someone to point that out. I want Sam to say "no, I'm not ready to give up on him, and you realize the only reason I'm here to argue with you is because Jack saved me, right? And if he is soulless, he lost it by saving our asses, right?" (Is this because I watched "Clip Show" a couple of days ago and watched Sam frantically try to soothe Sarah as she died from Crowley's handiwork, and I want Jack to get the same kind of second chance that Crowley got? Maybe.) Now, I realize killing Mary is more awful than anything Crowley (or any other enemy-turned-frenemy) has done to them. But it was an accident. And HE SAVED SAM'S LIFE. Come on. That counts for something.

(Sidebar: We also learned, in that scene back in season 8, that Crowley's mother was a witch. {blows a big wet kiss to the Continuity Fairy})

So, how do I feel about Mary being gone? Here's the deal. This show, at its heart, is about two (or three) men who have a giant bleeding Mary Winchester-sized hole in their lives. Filling that hole does not make for good television. And the Show tried to make her interesting and edgy by playing against what we thought we knew about her (she can't cook! she can't stay away from hunting! she sleeps with both Arthur Ketch and New Bobby!), it tried to make her both a source of conflict and a source of comfort, and ultimately (as far as I'm concerned) it just failed. She was so much more effective as that siren song of the impossible apple pie life. I said earlier and I'll repeat it here... the fact that they had to retcon all of these warm fuzzy flashbacks, instead of using actual clips, just shows how shallow these relationships were. There wasn't anything real to fall back on. And the way they spend these two episodes trying to make us care? It had the opposite effect on me. I'm glad to be shed of her.

But maybe that's just me. Maybe absence will make the heart grow fonder. We shall see. Come on and tell me what you think, and remember, no spoilers in the comments, please!

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

A Long Road Home Part 3

Fandom: Star Trek

Pairing: McKirk

Characters: Leonard McCoy, James T. Kirk, Original Characters

Word Count: 4151

Warning: Swears, implied torture, implied cannibalism

Summary: Two men from two completely different worlds meet in the aftermath of a great famine. Can they work together to save the ones they love and the remaining human race?

Author’s Note: Oh look! A new chapter after all this time! You can catch up here

Leonard's eyes were wide in fear as he stared at Jim from behind the rusted dumpster. Jim had pushed him to hide there as soon as he'd heard the crackle of radio chatter, the telltale sign soldiers were patrolling. Gun cocked at the ready, Jim peered out from the moldy, ancient sofa he'd ducked behind. A whole squad of eight soldiers marched by the dirty alley, guns at the ready.

It was the third squad they'd seen since sun up, and Jim didn't like it. Phoenix and its surrounding territories had always been quiet. It was why Jim and his group and chosen the city to set up their headquarters. The two of them were still on the outskirts, true, and Phoenix was a big place, so it was unlikely his people or their headquarters would be found, but it was still too close for comfort.

Jim motioned for Leonard to follow him as soon as the soldiers were out of sight, and together they slipped from abandoned car to abandoned car, attempting to keep to the shadows as much as possible. There was no one else to be seen, but Jim knew better than to trust his sight alone. They were still a days walk out from his team, and the sun would be setting soon. His plan had been to wait until the following morning, but with the higher presence of soldiers, it wasn't something he could risk. If the soldiers caught sight of them, they could follow them all the way back to the others. It was better to risk the gangs. Their numbers were less than the soldiers, and they wouldn't have the patience to follow from a distance. They’d just kill them both, and his people would be safe.

He managed to bring them to a derelict building, an old clothes store from Before. He picked his way across the broken glass and busted mannequins quietly, leaving Leonard to follow in his footsteps. The storeroom door was open but intact, complete with functional lock. Better than he could’ve hoped for. Ushering Leonard inside, Jim bolted the door shut behind them, with a soft sigh. Maybe when he was done with everything a shadow of safety wouldn’t be the only thing to bring others some relief.

“What’s the plan?” Leonard asked behind him, setting down his backpack with a quiet thunk. “We can’t keep movin’ out there with those guys roaming everywhere.”

“No. We can’t.” Jim leaned against the door for a moment as he collected his thoughts. He was so tired. So tired. But not yet. No sleep yet. “We’re going to stay here a couple hours, eat, rest, then move during the night.”

“During the night?! Jim are you crazy? The gangs-”

“The gangs will be the least of our problems if those bastards track us back to my people!” Jim turned suddenly, facing Leonard. “We’ll die, they’ll die, hundreds of innocent people will die!”

“And if the gangs catch us?!”

“Then we’ll just die.”

“Oh just us? Fucking fantastic.” Leonard scowled, stomping on an empty cardboard box until it was flat, and sitting on it. “Don’t suppose we have much choice.”

“Not really, no,” Jim said, mimicking Leonard’s action, only less angrily, and sitting opposite him. “But we’ll be fine. There’s just the two of us, we’ll be quiet, stick to the dark spots, and we have guns. They’re a good bargaining tool if it comes to it.”

“What’s to stop them from taking the guns and using them to kill us?”

Jim didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out two ration packs and handed one to Leonard.

They ate in silence. Leonard finished and lay down on his cardboard, not sleeping, but trying to save some energy at least. Jim’s brain was too busy to do anything like that. His mind was whirling to find the best route for them to take. Unfortunately, the path of least danger didn’t coincide with the quickest path. Usually, he’d pick safety over swiftness, but the longer it took them, the more nights they’d have to spend on the streets, and they were already looking at two. To take three, maybe four if they were doubly safe, would also be a risk. There were no good options.

The sun set behind the dust covered window faster that Jim would’ve liked, and blackness took the world once more. At least the moon was new which granted them just a little more cover. Leonard didn’t say anything as they packed up, resigned to his fate. Jim hesitated a minute, then stepped next to him, holding out a gun. Leonard looked at the weapon dumbly for a second, then up at Jim.

“It’ll be safer if we’re both armed,” He said simply, waiting for the other to take it, and tuck it carefully away. “You know how to shoot it?”

“Yeah, my dad taught me when I was young as a just in case.”

“Smart man.” Jim still didn’t fully trust Leonard, far from it, but it wasn’t a lie that they’d be safer if they were both packing, and he didn't think Leonard would try anything. Not at night. Adjusting his pack a little, Jim unlocked the door. “Let's go.”

The city was almost entirely dark. The main electric grid had long been cut off so streetlights were no longer operational, and those who survived who'd managed to hook up a personal supply weren't dumb enough to leave lights on in any visible windows. It slowed them down, having to walk so carefully to ensure they didn't trip or walk into any debris that'd make a noise. In a ghost city, the smallest of sounds could give them away. Even their footsteps were too loud for Jim's liking. He'd nearly had them remove their boots and sneak around in just socks, but he couldn't risk either of them cutting their foot on some germ infested object.

They crept their way onwards, going by the faint moonlight. Even with their wariness, they made some good time. Jim was trying to pick a route that mixed safety and speed, and so far it seemed to be working. If all went well they'd arrive at his group by sun-up the next day.

It was all going so well Jim really shouldn't have been shocked when everything went terribly wrong.

They'd just crossed a road when from out of an open sewer drain, a monster-sized rat came barging straight at them. It wasn't that Jim was scared of something as benign as a rodent, it was that he knew full well that the rats in cities carried more diseases than they had medication for.

Out of instinct, he jumped back and away from the rat. And clashed straight into Leonard. The Doctor being taken by surprise, lost his balance and grabbed onto Jim who still wasn't steady on his own feet. To both their credit neither made a sound as they crashed to the ground, yet one of Leonard’s flailing limbs caught an abandoned shopping cart, pushing it down the road.

The cart rattled as it bumped along the road, but Jim hoped it'd come to stop on its own.

Like he'd ever been that lucky.

With an echoing smash, the cart collided into an abandoned car, instantly setting off the alarm. Jim swore under the shrill beeps, leaping up to his feet and sprinting over to the vehicle, thinking only about how he needed to shut the noise up.

He smashed the window with a brick, not bothering to acknowledge the jagged edges of glass as he reached in, fumbling about until he managed to pop the hood open. Pulling out his knife as he skidded around to the front, Jim yanked up the hood fully, but the inside was barely visible. Cursing again, Jim dug out the flashlight he had stored in his pack. He didn't want to use it, but if he was quick it'd be off again soon. Holding it between his teeth, Jim looked back down into the car. His Mom had taught him about them when he was just barely seven, and so he was able to find the battery with ease. He reached in, cutting the cable and managing to pry it off the post.

Silence fell almost deafeningly loud, and Jim switched off the flashlight at the same time as he dived down the side of the car. Leonard was waiting for him, breathing heavily as he stared at Jim.

Jim held up a finger, indicating that they needed to stay still and quiet. Half the city would've heard that noise and he didn't want to risk moving again when there might be someone watching and listening.

He heard nothing, saw nothing. Jim almost started to believe they'd gotten away with it somehow.

Then, in the distance, a low rumbling sound. It was coming towards them. Jim peered around the edge of the car, and sure enough, coming over the horizon were several sets of headlights, all rolling right in their direction.

Shit.

“Run!” He hissed, dragging Leonard up with him as he set off at a sprint. The vehicles were gaining on them quickly, already the whoops and howl of the gang members could be heard. They couldn't stay on the roads now, the gang would hunt them all through the night. Their only choice was to find a secure building to hide in. Pulling them both down an alley, Jim hoped they could try and lose them in the maze of buildings. Cars couldn’t fit down some of these tiny side streets, and maybe, maybe, it’d give them a long enough chance to hide.

Roars of several motorcycles dashed those hopes.

Jim risked a glance behind them. There were at least two on their heels. Fuck. His lungs burned in his chest, his body protesting every step he took. He wasn’t used to running like this for long periods of time, he hadn’t had either enough food or sleep to maintain this pace for long, and sheer determination could only get one so far. Sooner or later he was going to falter, and they were going to get him. Leonard might get a little further; he wasn’t quite as worn. But without Jim and his knowledge, he wouldn’t last long. Someone would get him. He couldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t.

Gritting his teeth against the ache in his legs, Jim took Leonard’s hand, using it to haul Leonard down another alley, trying to twist and turn whenever he could. Yet still, their pursuers continued to close in. They rounded yet another corner when his foot caught on an old brick. Usually, he was nimble enough to keep his footing, but now it caught him off guard and sent him tumbling down into the darkness of the ground below. He’d never get up in time, they were going to get him.

A hand grabbed at his jacket, hauling him back onto his feet before he hit the ground, and yanking him along. In the limited light, he could just make out Leonard’s silhouette. He’d saved him. He’d put himself at more risk to pause and help him. There wasn’t time to process that right now.

Jim managed to find his footing again, the two of them running, as the howls closed in on them, coming from all sides now. Another alley and Jim skidded them both to a stop. At the other end were two gang members on bikes, Jim could see their shadows, and the glint of metal in their hands. They couldn’t go that way. But they couldn’t go back either. Already the sound of the ones chasing them was drawing near. There was nowhere else to go.

He could feel Leonard watching him, waiting for him to find a way to save them. He couldn’t though. They were blocked in. He’d led them to their deaths. Jim drew out his gun, feeling the weight in his hands. Better this, than the painful death that awaited them when they were captured.

Grateful it was dark enough that the other couldn’t see, Jim raised the gun, aiming straight for Leonard’s head.

Something grabbed the edge of his jacket from behind, pulling him back with some force. Jim didn’t even have a chance to react as he tumbled backward into blackness. He tumbled down onto a cold metal floor, Leonard landing half on top of him with a soft ‘oomph’. There was a sound of metal clanging quietly, and a lock being scraped into place.

“What the fuck?” Jim scrambled for his gun, but before he could, a barrel of another was pressed against the back of his head.

A light flickered to life above them, revealing a man and a woman standing in front of them, both with guns raised. They looked normal. They didn’t have the piercings, or the face paint, or the jewelry made out of body parts that the gangs usually adorned themselves with. They looked just like him, albeit a little cleaner maybe.

“Who are you?” He asked, glancing over to see Leonard on his knees next to him, hands in the air, as the woman pointed her gun at him.

“We should be asking you that. What you doing out here? You don’t look like one of their prisoners.”

“We aren’t. We’re traveling. To find some friends,” Jim answered, trying to keep his answers to a minimum. The less they knew the better.

The man nodded, motioning with his hand, and the gun against Jim’s head disappeared, and a second man, walked in front of them. “Nighttime isn’t the best for wandering about.”

“I know, but there were soldiers everywhere today, figured we’d be better going in darkness.”

“There are no better options these days.” The first man stepped forward, offering a hand to help Jim up. “Name’s Mitch. This is my wife Rosie, and my brother Eddie.”

“Tiberius. And my pal Horatio.” Jim caught the side-eye Leonard was giving him but didn’t try and contradict him. “Our parents had an old fashioned sense of humor.”

“Seems so, lumping two kids with names like that,” Mitch laughed. Jim laughed with him, shaking his hand.

“Are we safe here? The gangs were almost on top of us.”

Eddie nodded, “They may be dangerous, but they ain’t the brightest. We camouflaged the door to look like the building, and they drive straight on by.”

It didn’t surprise Jim too much. He’d used similar techniques in the past when moving food about.

“You two dears, look half-starved! Come on in, and I’ll cook you something nice!” Rosie chimed in, already taking Leonard’s hand and ushering him through another door that led deeper into the building.

“Where are we exactly?” Jim asked as they were led through a kitchen, and into a huge dining room. It was a grand place, with high windows that had been blacked out. Jim imagined that under the layers of soundproof foam, the walls were covered with intricate decals.

“The White Palace Hotel it was called back in the day. We stumbled upon it a couple of years ago. The storage room was sealed shut still, but we managed to pry it open. It was full to the brim with more food than the three of us would need in a few lifetimes,” Eddie started to explain, as Rosie got them all to sit down. Eddie was a tall man, probably in his late thirties, with ginger hair, and a scar going down one cheek.

“We figured that at the start some rich dicks must’ve holed up in here. The windows were already blacked out, and everything was soundproofed, the locks on some of the outer doors are the best we’ve ever seen. We got lucky that in their haste to leave, someone left a door ajar,” Mitch continued. Unlike his brother, he was a little shorter and stockier. In his forties, his hair was starting recede, and he was going white at the temples. A raggedy beard concealed most of his face.

“So you decided to stay here? I can see why,” Leonard said.

Eddie nodded, “It was as good a home as any. But after a while, we decided we needed to do more. Several of the bedrooms were still in good condition, and we had more than enough food, so we started keeping an eye out for waifs and strays. We’re in a good spot here, the building’s high enough that we can keep lookout, bring people in for a night or two if they need.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Not too many people left who’d do something like that. If you ever get caught…” Jim chimed in. He was grateful that they’d saved them, but he was still suspicious. He’d never met anyone else who was as selfless as him and his team. He wanted to believe it true though, it would be nice knowing there was still a glimmer of hope in the world, and maybe they could all work together. “Don’t suppose you needed to be that high to see us though.”

“No. We heard your little racket, and after that, we just had to follow the lights. Once we saw you were heading our way, we camped out and waited. Hoped that you’d end up in the right place and the right time.”

Eddie was right, Jim thought. If they’d ended up stopping in another spot, it would’ve been too dangerous for them to step out. “Well, thank you. We’d be dead without your help.”

“Or worse,” Mitch said.

“Or worse,” he agreed.

It was then that Rosie came back into the dining room, pushing a serving cart. Just a glimpse of it had Jim’s stomach rumbling. She had a pot of minced beef, canned no doubt, but still, more than he usually had, some mashed potatoes, and a mix of peas and carrots. There wasn’t enough for any of them to have heaps, but it was definitely enough to satisfy the raw hunger clawing away at him. It took most of his self-restraint to not just dive in and eat like a slob.

The dinner was great, neither of them had eaten so well since that first night together, and Jim was glad of it. So was Leonard if the delighted groans were anything to go by. Between the warm meal, and the fading adrenaline, it left him feeling exhausted though.

“We have a room if you two want to get some sleep?” Rosie suggested as she and Mitch cleared up their empty dishes. “There’s only one bed though I’m afraid.”

Jim and Leonard exchanged a quick glance, silently deciding that they needed to stay and get some rest. Dawn must’ve been approaching already, and Jim still didn’t want to risk the soldiers. With a bit of luck, they’d sleep most of the day, hopefully, get another meal, and head out the next night. Quietly. Much more quietly. “We’d like that, thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, dears,” Rosie beamed. “The room’s number two-hundred and twenty-one, on the third floor. One of the nicer ones if you ask me.”

“After being on the road, anything will be like a luxury, ma’am,” Leonard said as he and Jim rose together.

“My you two are polite young men,” Rosie chuckled, brushing her greying hair from her face. “It’s Rosie.”

“Rosie,” Leonard smiled and nodded, the two of them saying their goodnights to the group before making their way upstairs.

Their room was pretty easy to find, and Jim whistled as they stepped inside and flicked the lights on. Everything was blacked out too, so it was safe to do so. “Man, you’d have to be loaded to stay here,” he mused, taking in the high ceilings and the Queen-sized bed. He’d never seen anything so big. There was still a sofa in the lounge, though it looked a little worse for wear these days, and the ornaments that were used for decoration back in the day still remained, surprisingly in one piece and clean.

Leonard just hummed in response, and Jim realized that this must still be squalor compared to what he was used to in Georgia. He curbed his excitement, and the temptation to throw himself on the bed, instead setting their packs down by the wardrobe instead.

“Are you going to tell them who we really are?” Leonard asked, sitting on the edge of the bed as Jim scouted out the ensuite. There was running water, but it seemed only to be cold. Not all that surprising, but running water at all was a treat.

“Maybe. I’m going to talk to the others once we arrive, see if they know anything. With some luck perhaps we can all team up. It’d be good to have some more people on our side,” Jim mused, returning to the bedroom. He pulled out the knife he had tucked in his boot and slipped it under the pillow. Noticing Leonard’s raised eyebrow, he shrugged. “Just because I want to work with them, doesn’t mean I have to sleep without precaution.”

“Not everyone is as bad as you think they are, Jim. By all rights, we should be enemies, but we aren’t.”

“You’re the exception. With everyone else it’s taken weeks, if not months for me to know I can trust them,” he said, taking off his jacket, but keeping his boots on. He didn’t want to get caught unprepared and have to face running through the streets in just his socks. Leonard looked like he wanted to protest as he climbed under the fresh sheets, but didn’t. Jim did notice how he made a point of removing his own boots though, before joining him with a quiet groan.

They lay in silence for a while, both on their backs staring up at the ceiling. It was the closest either of them had been, and it was admittedly awkward, with neither of them wanting to wriggle about too much on the comfy mattress, or risk taking up too much of the bedding.

Jim was about to doze off regardless of the awkwardness when Leonard spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.”

Jim frowned, shifting onto his side facing Leonard. “For what?”

“I nearly got us killed tonight. If I hadn’t hit that cart, those bastards wouldn’t have heard us, and we wouldn’t nearly have died.”

“It’s not your fault. They were already close by, for all we know they could’ve been hunting us. And besides, I was the one who knocked you over. If I hadn’t reacted like an idiot…”

“I saw that rat, Jim. Anyone would’ve reacted that way.”

“I shouldn’t have! I’m meant to be calm, collected. I reacted out of fear, and that was stupid!” Jim rolled away, putting his back to Leonard. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe he’d just kept everything bottled up for too long, but Jim felt the tears burn at his eyes, and he couldn’t let Leonard see. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing them away.

“Fear keeps us alive, Jim. Just a scratch from that monster and you’d probably be dead,” Leonard spoke softly, and Jim heard him move too before a hand came to rest on his hip. He almost pulled away, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was nice. “I’d be dead a hundred times over if it wasn’t for you. You’re an amazing leader, an even better protector, but not every mishap is your fault.”

He was right, Jim knew it. Didn’t mean he had to like it. His Mom had raised him to be accountable for every mistake, and that wasn’t a thing he could shake. But he was too tired to argue about how psychologically fucked he was. “Let’s just get some sleep.”

“Okay.” He’d expected Leonard to take his hand away, but he didn’t. He kept there, lightly curled around his hip, protectively almost.

Jim found himself liking it, he thought as he finally succumbed into a deep sleep. It was dreamless for once, no terrors sought him out, no monsters chased him. There was no fear or death, or hunger. Just a quiet peace, and a vague sense of warmth and comfort. It was the best he’d slept in his whole life.

A shout woke him. Dragging him from his sleep like a bucket of cold water. He reached for his knife out of instinct, but couldn't. His hands had been tied. The plastic of the binding digging into his wrists painfully. His ankles were bound the same. He was trapped. “Leonard?!” He shouted, trying to squirm his way onto his back. There was a muffled shout, but nothing else. “Leonard!” He yelled again, using all his effort to roll over.

He was met with something dark and solid looking hurtling towards him before everything went black.  

Tagging: @medicatemedrmccoy @trustno1inapt221b @ravennaofasgard @thefanficfaerie @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 @feelmyroarrrr @impalaanddemons @daytimemaniac @toosouthernforspace @dreaming-about-starfleet @skull-in-a-jar @fromashell @artemisodinson @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @onemoore @loststarlight @haveyouseenmymind

[permets-tu-not-permettez-vous]

This Side of Paradise

Chapter One: Lost on You 

Cosette turned her key one last time, hoping against hope that her banged up Subaru would start. Nothing. Cosette let out a huff of frustration. This was just the last of a number of stunningly mediocre things that had accumulated to make it an altogether terrible day. First, she had spilled scalding coffee on her way to work, leaving large stains on her blouse that most likely wouldn’t come out. When she got to work, she found she had forgotten to bring an extra blouse from the last time it happened so she had to wear the shirt all day. There was a pep rally which meant the kids were antsy all day and her class times were shorter. And to finish it all off, they had a department meeting after school that had been not only absolutely pointless, but frustratingly boring. All she had wanted to do was head home and grade papers in bed. Well, in all honesty, she just wanted to watch some Jane Austen film in bed, but these papers needed to be graded, and so there was no way around it. Cosette rested her forehead on the steering wheel, working up the energy to call her dad, hoping that he would know what to do. Cosette had no idea where to even start with cars. She was definitely adding wine to her paper grading that night. She deserved it after this shitstorm of a day.

A knock on her window startled her so much that she accidentally hit the horn and her car beeped. Cosette blushed and looked out her window to see a dark-haired and absolutely stunning woman leaning down to peer through the window. She was wearing a leather jacket, had several piercings poking through her ears, and caramel eyes that rested under sharply defined brows. She was clearly trying not to laugh at Cosette’s embarrassment at being startled, which only grew as she saw how hot her audience was. She rolled down her window.

“Your car isn’t starting?” Her voice was deep and curling, like whiskey. Cosette nodded, unable to find her voice. The woman’s smile broke through her resolve, and it transformed her face. “Hi, I’m Eponine. I teach welding and shop. I could take a look at it for you.”

Cosette willed herself to form some coherent sentences. “Hi Eponine. I’m Cosette. It’s nice to meet you. I am also a teacher, in the English department.”

Eponine smirked. “I know,” she said as her eyes tracked over her, and Cosette felt like she was being examined. Eponine knew about her? She reminded herself not to read too much into it.

“I guess it is a pretty small school. I’m new here. Just started this year.”

“Well, welcome. Now, let me have at your car.” Cosette remembered that before Eponine showed up she was having a terrible day. Now it seemed her day was looking up. Cosette jumped into action, bustling out of her car. Standing next to Eponine, she came up to her shoulder. She tried not to let on that she was sizing Eponine up, but she was too focused on the task at hand. She got into the car, turned the key and examined the inner workings of the car, leaving the door open. Then she got out, tracked to the front and opened her hood. Cosette stood there mute, trying to think of good conversation starters, but she kept getting distracted by the focused look on Eponine’s face, a thin line appearing between her eyebrows as she pursed her lips. How had she never noticed her before?

Eponine nodded to herself, almost the way a scientist did at the conclusion of a successful experiment. She moved back around to Cosette, brushing her hands one against the other to clean them up somewhat. “You’re battery is dead. Did you leave your lights on this morning? Your light signal was on in the car.”

Cosette groaned, putting a hand over her forehead. “I must have. It was such a crazy morning. I was running late and had spilled coffee all over myself. I must have forgotten about the lights in the middle of everything. I feel so silly for forgetting.”

Eponine smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it. We all do it, even me, though I don’t like to brag about it as the shop teacher. It’s an easy fix. Just let me bring my car around and I’ll jump it for you.”

“Thank you so much!” Eponine shrugged off the thanks and headed across the parking lot. Cosette tapped out a quick message to her dad explaining the situation, telling him that one of her teacher friends who knew about cars was helping her so that her dad didn’t immediately get in the car and drive over himself. Cosette heard a car approaching and looked up to see Eponine driving a green pickup her way. Cosette’s lips quirked upwards. She had to say that the car fit her personality, or at least the parts of her personality that she could surmise from looking at her. But they did paint a pretty poignant picture.

Eponine hopped out, and made quick work out of the jumper cables. She had Cosette get in and turn on her car, which whirred to life under Eponine’s watchful eye. Cosette could feel a smile break out on her face. Eponine met her eyes, and it seemed that a spark passed between them. Eponine looked away quickly and Cosette guessed she must have imagined it, but her eyes lingered on her profile anyway. She came to a decision.

“Hey,” she said, practically jumping out of her car in her haste, wanting to prolong this moment, to bask in Eponine’s presence. Eponine looked up, surprised by the urgency in Cosette’s voice. “Let me buy you a drink. Goodness knows after a day like today I need one, and it looks better if I don’t drink alone. Plus, I really want to thank you for helping me out. You made what could have been a really shitty experience for me pretty bearable.”

Eponine considered it, her head cocked to the side and her eyes narrowed. Again, Eponine got the feeling that she was being observed, was being measured against some yardstick in Eponine’s head that determined the safety and interest levels that Cosette presented. Finally she nodded, tucking a flyaway dark curl behind her ear. “I’d love to. Anything to avoid you ending your night alone at a bar. The only question is what to do about your car.”

“There I defer to your expertise,” Cosette said with a laugh. She really should learn more about cars.

“Do you live close?” Eponine asked, shoving her hands in her pockets. Cosette tried to pretend that her heart didn’t flutter a little bit at the question.

“Yeah, over on Rue de Rambuteau.”

“Okay, well what if I follow you home, you drop off your car and I drive us to and from. Or if you don’t want to get into the car with a random shop teacher we can get a Lyft.” Eponine had a casual air around her that Cosette envied. Where Cosette would hem and haw and take her time getting to her point, Eponine seemed to be incredibly blunt and straightforward with an attitude that just begged for you to argue with her. Cosette wondered whether that meant their personalities would mesh well or not. She shook herself.

“Well seeing as you haven’t murdered me yet, I would be more than happy to take my first ride ever in a pickup truck from you.”

It was worth it to see the look of absolute shock tinged with horror that appeared on her face. Eponine sputtered, her mouth working without forming any thoughts. Cosette laughed; it was good to see the self-assured and practical attitude broken over a small thing like pick up trucks. “You’re joking,” Eponine said slowly, almost more of a question than a statement. Cosette nodded, laughing. “You were joking,” Eponine repeated.

“So you’ve said,” Cosette said when she caught her breath. Eponine’s disbelief morphed into a genuine laugh, a husky amber peal of laughter that was sexy as hell. Cosette sobered quickly at the sound. “So, you’ll just follow me?” Cosette asked, gesturing towards her car.

Eponine nodded, her smile still blinding, and Cosette hurried to get into her car as Eponine wound up her jumper cables and clambered into her own pickup. Cosette pealed out of her spot effortlessly and automatically headed towards home, hyperconscious of her own driving, and checking her rear view mirror much more often than she probably should. As she drove, she attempted to pull herself together. There was a knot of nerves tightening in her gut, and she felt a little hot. She rolled down the window and let the cool air rush over her face. She took some shaky breaths and tried to swallow several times but her throat stuck. What was she doing? Asking a woman out for drinks? She couldn’t even remember the last time she went on a date. Not that this was a date, she reminded herself sternly before she got too far down that train of that thought.

She pulled into her driveway, and noted that Eponine didn’t follow her; rather, she just pulled over on the street and left the car idling. Cosette ran inside to drop off some of her school stuff and change her coffee-stained blouse. She also applied a subtle layer of lipstick, checking her reflection in the mirror of the entryway. She looked somewhat frazzled, her cheeks flushed and her dark hair slightly limp. She tried pulling her hair into a bun. It accentuated her cheeks better and made her seem less red, more put together. She quickly toed on some cute heels, hoping that Eponine hadn’t gotten tired of waiting and driven off. She also hoped that Eponine didn’t notice she had dressed up for her a bit. She gave herself one last look in the mirror. “You can do this, Cosette,” she told herself sternly, like she imagined her mother might have done when she was younger. Cosette was used to being her own mother in situations like this, being both encouraging and cautious.

She hurried outside and hopped into Eponine’s car, trying not to show what an effort it was to get her shorter frame up into the pickup. Eponine grinned, making Cosette think that she hadn’t been that subtle. “Where to?” she asked.

“Just go down this street, take a right at the corner and then another left when I tell you.”

Eponine smoothly shifted gears and drove down the street. A silence descended. Eponine’s car smelled like lemons and cinnamon. Cosette wondered if that was what Eponine smelled like or if it was a car freshener. She checked the rear view mirror, finding it empty. No air freshner. Cosette wondered if that meant it was Eponine’s smell. She was still wandering down this train of thought when Eponine distracted her. “You live in a nice neighborhood. Cute house.”

“Thanks,” Cosette said, unsure where she was supposed to go with that. “I like cottages. I don’t need a big house.”

Eponine nodded. “I can see that. You seem like that type of person.” Sometimes when people made those kind of generalizations it irritated her, but from Eponine it sounded like a compliment. Or at least she hoped it was.

“Do you live close to here?”

“No, I live the other direction from school with my brother.” Cosette was taken aback. Once people reached their twenties they didn’t really choose to live with their siblings anymore. Not that Cosette really understood sibling dynamics; she had been an only child despite her longing for a larger family than just her and her father. But in the end that’s probably what made them so close - they only had each other.

“You have a brother?”

“I have a brother and a sister,” Eponine clarified. “My sister used to live with us but she went to university last year.” Her voice was tinged with melancholy.

“You must miss her,” Cosette said softly. Eponine just nodded, a tender smile touching her mouth. Cosette stared, she knew she was staring, but seeing that soft smile wreath Eponine’s face made her hands clammy and she had her heart in her throat. She tore her eyes away, looking at the road ahead. “Oh shit, we just passed it!” Cosette exclaimed, a white hot flash of embarrassment searing through her.

Eponine just laughed, and found a parking spot on the side of the road. Cosette flushed and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, hoping that she wasn’t being too obvious about the fact she had almost missed it because she had been staring at Eponine. The woman was gorgeous, sure, but Cosette wasn’t sure if she even swung her way. And even if she did, who's to say that she would like Cosette? They came from different worlds, had different interest. Eponine probably wanted someone who was tough and skated derby or something. Not Cosette, who knit her friends sweaters and spent her evenings baking in slippers. She shoved the thought aside and got out of the car, joining Eponine on the sidewalk.

They entered the bar, the soft mood lighting of the fairy lights illuminating glints of red in Eponine’s dark hair. Cosette swallowed. She hoped that this bar wasn’t too cutesy. Eponine looked like the kind of girl who was at home in a hole in the wall backwater bar. They found a table towards the back next to some leafy green ferns, and Eponine shrugged off her leather jacket and ordered a Bourbon on the rocks with an ease and surety that Cosette envied. She just ordered a glass of red wine and hoped that her hands weren’t visibly shaking.

Why was she so nervous around Eponine? Maybe because it had been ages since she’d been with anyone, since she’d been attracted to anyone even, or the fact that this was a new job, a new town, a new friend. Her life was in such a turmoil at the moment that she barely knew where to start with her emotions.

“So,” Eponine started as their drinks made their way to their table. “How’s it been? Tell me a little about yourself.”

Cosette laughed. “Where to start? I finished my degree a couple years ago and worked a lot of odd jobs while I tried finding a teaching position. This is my first full-time teaching position and I’m doing sophomore English. What about you? You said you do welding?”

Eponin nodded, setting her glass on the table with a clunk. “Yeah. I wasn’t able to go to the college I wanted, but I always loved doing stuff with my hands so I went to a trade school an hour away and was able to get my certification. Been teaching here almost five years.”

Cosette nodded. “And how do you like it here?”

Eponine shrugged. “It’s alright. I kind of feel like there’s a divide between us in the shop and doing vocational kind of stuff and the regular subjects like math and English and science. I mean it’s almost December and this is the first time I’ve ever seen you.” Eponine met her eyes, her gaze penetrating, and Cosette felt her heartbeat pick up. She quickly dropped her eyes, hoping she wasn’t blushing too obviously.

“And I you,” Cosette said, almost at a loss for words. The talking wandered to less work-related things, turning to music, hobbies, and favorite movies. Cosette was surprised by the amount of similarities they had. From their outward appearances, she would have guessed that they had little in common. But as she made her way through her glass of red wine and Eponine made her way through several funny shop stories, she felt herself relax in her presence.

Cosette was shocked when Eponine looked down at her phone and swore. “Shit, it’s late and I need to get dinner started for Gavroche.”

Cosette looked at her own phone and was surprised to see that two hours had flown by. She was both elated and disappointed at how well they had passed the time together. Cosette insisted on paying for the drinks since Eponine had rescued her from apparent distress earlier that day and they headed outside into the brisk chill of the night and the muted sounds of traffic. Dusk was falling, and as they strolled down the sidewalk, Cosette could see them doing this for years to come, and for just a minute, she let herself believe that they would.

Eponine drove her home, the darkness descending just as the silence in the car, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Cosette tried desperately to think of something to say. It felt so much like an awkward first date in that moment that she almost forgot it wasn’t. All too soon, they arrived at Cosette’s house.

“Thank you again so much, Eponine. You saved my ass,” Cosette said earnestly, unsure where to put her hands.

Eponine just laughed. “Anytime. Next time do me a favor and remember to turn off your lights.” Cosette nodded laughing, and Eponine held her gaze for just a beat too long. She wanted to kiss her so badly her hands trembled. To see what those full lips tasted like. Instead, she cleared her throat and hopped out of the truck.

Eponine rolled down the window. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, the right side of her mouth curling up into a smile. Cosette nodded and waved, not sure if she could trust her voice. Eponine sped away, leaving Cosette to watch her go in the twilight. She couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

AO3 Link 

[sunshiney-souls]

collar full // chp 1

Summary// Skye, Peter and Ned are best friends and are finally going on their long-awaited Fine Arts Field Trip

Warning// mild iw spoilers (?), your new favorite trio of teenage dorks, nothing too serious yet

Word count// 1,862

a/n// hey everyone! this is my second series but it’s the one i’m more serious about! if you happen to like this, lemme know! please i would love feedback. also, just send me an ask or something if you’d like to be tagged in the following chapters of this :)

Skye Harper, Peter Parker and Ned Leeds; The three musketeers of Queens New York. For as long as anyone can remember, these three have been the definition of best friends. Peter and Ned lived next to each other since Peter was five. Little Ned and Peter would run up and down the halls of the apartment building for hours, their little giggles and footsteps bounced off the old walls of the building. After the two kids turned seven, Skye moved in across from Ned. Skye started out being a shy, quiet and reserved little girl. Of course, this was before she met the two rowdy little boys

So it was written in the stars that the three would become best friends. They spent every waking hour together, doing whatever their minds thought of. This obviously led to them all going to Midtown together. Luckily, this didn’t change the fact that they were inseparable 

They grew together during their Freshmen and Sophomore year. They all took as many of the same classes as they could. They even all agreed to be in Fine Art classes, even if they all had different interests. Skye had joined Midtown’s Varsity Choir, Ned was a crew member in Theatre Arts, and Peter had worked his way up to Advanced Marching band. High school was going great for the little ban of kids

Then came the day of the Fine Arts Field Trip.

“Skye, come on! We’re going to be late!” Ned continued to bang his fist on his across-the-hall neighbor’s door, in hopes to hurry her up.

When he realized it wouldn’t speed her up, he grabbed the spare key from its hiding place and unlocked the door. He put the key back and then walked into the seemingly empty apartment.

“Skye?” He spoke, looking around. Soon after, he heard a thud followed by a drawn out groan. His head snapped to the direction of the noise, followed by his eyes rolling. He already knew what happened and his arms crossed as he let a scoff escape his mouth.

“Hey dude, where is she?” Peter soon appeared next to Ned, slinging his backpack onto his shoulders. Ned gestured to Skye’s room, where she soon threw the door open and rushed out.

Her hair was its normal self, a mop of loose curls, flowing from her head. She never had to worry about fixing it, seeing how the curls seemed to have a mind of their own in styling themselves. She had thrown on her signature high waist, light-washed jeans, which were rolled up at the ankles. She wore a yellow shirt, tucked into her jeans.

She slid out of her room, onto the hardwood floor of her hallway; her mismatched socks didn’t give her much traction as she slid to her shoes. She leaned on Ned for support as she slid on the high tops.

“I know, i know,” She started, pushing off of Ned and rushing to the table. “my alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed to!” she quickly rushed the words out of her mouth, worrying that speaking would slow her down. She grabbed her backpack and slung it over one shoulder. She rushed back to her room and grabbed her navy hoodie. The threw it on and shook her hair out of her face. She rushed back to her friends and caught her breath. “Mornin’ boys.” She gave her hair a flick to get out of her face, and a smirk found its way onto her mouth.

With a sigh from the boys and a laugh from the girl, the trio left the building. They made their way to the sidewalk and started their way through the streets of Queens, New York. Skye stood in the middle of Ned and Peter, kind of their way of protecting her, even though she was more than capable of protecting herself.

These walks were normally filled with light-hearted conversation, words bouncing back and fourth and commonly interrupted by small bursts of laughter. They talked about anything and everything, including Peter being Spider-man. Yes, Peter wanted to keep it a secret, and it was going good until Ned found out. It wasn’t long until Ned couldn’t keep his cool and spilled to Skye. It helped that Skye noticed bruises appearing on his skin and decided to confront the both of them about it. Skye became very worried and concerned for Peter and insisted he came to her house every night after his surveillance run, so she could clean him up before he ran off to May.

The three Juniors neared the school, a steady stream of students trickling in, seeing as it wasn’t too terribly close to eight a.m., the kids still had some time. They walked to the doors and Peter held it open for Ned and Skye. They all had lockers in the same hallway, but spread out. They went their separate ways to exchange things from their lockers.

Skye probably had the most organized locker of them all. All her books were stacked nicely and right next to their corresponding binders, which held notes and assignments for said class. She had an extra hoodie, neatly folded in the bottom section of her locker. She prided herself in having a clean and organized locker.

Ned’s locker wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t prim and proper, but he had all his books laying in there, binders on the bottom section, and some loose paper here and there. He made sure to lay his textbooks on their sides so he could place his lunch bag on top on them, just so his sandwich wouldn’t get squished.

It was Peter who had the messiest locker. Loose and crumpled papers everywhere, textbooks laying every which way, too many jackets for one person were stuffed into it as well. He never set things into his locker nicely, like most do. Oh no, he threw his things into his locker. He wasn’t even mad when he did it, he would simply toss whichever book into his locker and hope it didn’t bounce out.

Once they all got their textbooks and whatever else they needed for their first period, they met up in their class, Algebra 2. They had all signed up to be put in the honors class, which happened to be the first period. They picked a cluster of desks in the back corner of the room, furthest away from the door. Ned sat in front of Skye, who sat next to Peter. Ned and Skye both understood algebra fairly well, and never needed much help from anyone but each other. Peter sat next to Skye due to the fact that he never paid attention and she was a better teacher to him than Ned was.

The Algebra 2 teacher droned on and on about conics and how to make equations for circles and parabolas and whatnot. Skye almost fell asleep many times, her head almost landing on Peter’s desk; which had happened before. Peter never minded, he would simply run his fingers through her curls, he found it amusing. Skye’s hair was soft and smooth and it have Peter something to do while he tried to understand what was going on.

Suddenly, there was a loud, obnoxious beep. 

“Please excuse this interruption; those participating in the Fine Arts Field Trip need to be dismissed now and will report to their Fine Arts teachers. Thank you.”

The three shot our of their desks, along with others, and made their way out of class. They stopped by their lockers again, putting their algebra things away and grabbing whatever they needed for the trip ahead of them.

They all met back up for the short walk to each of their classes; Skye went to the music room with Peter while Ned made his way to the stage. They promised each other they would sit near each other on the bus.

“So, you ready for this, Parker?” Skye nudged his arm with her elbow, the same smirk as before was on her face. Peter rolled his eyes.

“I mean, we get out of school for a day to roam the streets of New York, of course I’m ready.” He shot back, or at least he tried. With Skye, Peter’s playfully rude antics never worked, and he never knew why. With everyone else, he could completely fool them into thinking he was legitimately rude and pissed. But Skye, for whatever reason, was different and Peter still hadn’t figured it out. Was it because she was his best girl friend? Maybe. Was it because she could to sarcasm and playful rude comments better than anyone? That was definitely a serious point to take into consideration, but it wasn’t the whole reason.

He always mentally shrugged to himself before he thought about it for too long.

“I’ve heard there’s this super cool nerd store that i’ve been dying to check out. Ive been saving up ever since they announced this trip.” Skye excitedly spoke, words flowing out of her mouth with ease. She waved her wallet in the air at Peter, as if to prove how excited she is. Skye’s smile was contagious and soon Peter found himself smiling as well.

“Nerd store?” He laughed.

“It’s called Boxed Lunch and they have these cool things from different fandoms. They have Disney, different animes, different bands, and so on. It’s like a more sophisticated Hot Topic... almost.” She babbled on and on. Peter nodded, understanding. Peter knew how much Skye loved shopping at Hot Topic and made a mental note to check out that store for her birthday, which was in a week.

After a few more minutes of taking roll of all the band and choir kids, Peter and Skye were a part of the huge heard that was moving itself through the halls to the bus. This was something Skye had adapted to doing in big crowds. She did it with whoever she as with, except with Peter was the only person whose arm she hung on to.

Once they were on the bus, Peter took a window seat while Skye sat next to him. She pulled out her earbuds and gave him one. It was tradition that whoever Skye sat next to, she shared her earbuds. Both Ned and Peter liked her taste in music and they never wanted to risk their phone battery running out. Skye always carried her portable charger and didn’t trust her boys to hang on to it.

“Ned! Over here!” Skye yelled to the last person of their group. Ned’s head perked up and he quickly made his way to the seat in front of them.

“I’m so psyched for this trip!” Ned said, sitting next to the girl that was already in that seat. The two nodded as Skye scrolled through her music to pick a song. The bus lurched forward and she was still deciding. Peter leaned onto her shoulder and tapped a random song.

“Come on Harper, we ain’t got all day.” He tried, once again, to sound rude; but she gave him a side glance and Peter felt his mouth turn up into a smile.

Tag list: @topisdead

[ol-razzle-dazazzle]

Rattus Rattus- Chapter 3: Guinea Pig Nibbling

Finally! I only have two exams left, so I should be updating more consistently, maybe after my History exam on Monday, I’ll write a Halloween special? I’d like that. Either way, here we finally have Pushkin! Hopefully I’ve added more to his character to make him somewhat likeable (He got cheated out of canon real bad let’s be real...) Thank you for your continued support!

Trigger Warnings for this chapter: 

-Implied disordered eating (this is loosely based off irl Nikolai’s experiences of abuse- so the nature of said disorder will be somewhat expanded on during their school arc- however will not be romanticised and will have a respectful portrayal as I can try) 

"Whatcha doing here?" The voice comes from the ceiling, as a pair of eyes and curly orange hair peer over him.

"I just transferred here."

The other boy clamours down, and Fyodor notices he has chubby cheeks and a solid build. "Pushkin. Alexander Pushkin."

"Okay."

"…I really thought you'd react more. That's like, the whole cool thing about those violent movies- the stoic villain, calm and cool as he loads his gun and pow…or something like that."

"Why are the pillows a mess?" He glances at the pile, in the corner of the wall.

"I'm testing my aim. Y'see, I've always had perfect accuracy for these things- I wanna be a marksman or something." He tugs on his hoodie strings proudly, "I'll have you know I hold the school's record for most vases shattered- marbles, paperclips, waterguns."

"So this is why you're in the worst room?" Fyodor grabs the pillows, setting them neatly on the bottom bunk.

"Ack- well, the room isn't that bad, I just keep a lotta stuff. Gum, paper clips, straws- you name it. Hope that won't be a problem?"

"As long as I have my own maintained space of cleanliness, it won't have to be."  Fyodor shrugs.

"Fair enough, fair enough. I'm a senior here- so I'll get more space, 'course."

"A senior? Kolya and I are-"

"Wait- Gogol himself?!" Pushkin's eyes open wider, "Wait, you're 'rat boy'."

"…Is the name…really necessary?" How strange…the events of today already spread.

"Oh shit, that was a riot! I have to hand it to you two, you got caught by a tough customer. Usually you can spout something self-righteous and 'self-improvement'-ish and most of them will leave you alone." Pushkin chuckles, "Don't worry, it'll blow over, kehehehe."

"What an odd laugh."

"Look, a good villain needs a good laugh, okay? Some people have morning rites, some people practise their evil laughter…" He hums in thought, "I bet Gogol's the kinda kid that does. Go on, rat. Try it, kehehehe."

"As much as I love mice, I'd prefer a better name."

"You haven't told me your name yet though."

"Fyodor."

"Okay, Fyodor- give me your evil laughter."

Fyodor takes a breath. Hm, well, it's an easy enough way to gain favour with a potential ally.

"…Ha ha ha ha ha."

"Uh…"

"Haha…ha ha ha…"

"Fyodor…"

"…Ha ha."

"…" Pushkin scratches his cheek, "Well…the good thing is that you'll make me look good."

"That's rather cruel."

"Kehehehehe!" He snickers, offering a high five. "See? Nailed it."

"Kol- Nikolai is a much better comedian."

Pushkin makes an overdramatic pained noise, "Keheheh, well I won't try to mess things up between you two. You and Gogol, that is."

"Now why would you do that?" Fyodor has an inkling Pushkin wouldn't do that kind of thing, but he's certainly...something. Wait, him and Gogol don't have a 'thing' in the first place- they literally just met.

"Hmph, I don't know." Pushkin shrugs, "People around me always get real pissed."

Perhaps it's because of his fouler language, "At you?"

"Nah, nah." He waves a hand dismissively, "I've always been a real terrible mediator. I try get in between two people fighting and they want to fight even more!"

"Maybe you're just antagonising."

"Don't be so rude. I coulda deceived you and said I hid the bodies of the other two that were in this room, but I didn't." He folds his arms, "You're lucky it's just us two, if it was one more, you'd be stuffed- you're a pretty scrawny kid."

"So...the other two people fought here? With no provocation?"

"Eh well...okay- maybe as a little prank- I spitballed them and made it look like the other person did it." At Fyodor's raised eyebrow he moved his hands quickly, "But even when I admitted it, something I rarely do, mind- they were fucking breaking bones and shit!"

Fyodor flinches a little, "Must be some bad luck."

"Yeah, so they're in the hospital and they both got expelled- not my fault. I might look stocky but I'm not that great at punching."

"You could probably throw me." Fyodor mumbles, "For the record, that is not encouraging you to."

"Heh, I probably could. Maybe I will…" He shakes his head, "Nah- the greatest pleasure taken is watching the big people fall down. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, the more I cackle."

"I am starting to rethink your innocence…" Fyodor turns to the door.

"Hey, hey, hey! Come on." He cackles, "You're an interesting one, Fyodor. Gogol too, I think I'll keep an eye out for you two, as a good ol' senior."

"How kind of you, but I have no intention of owing anyone anything." Fyodor reaches into his pockets, getting some of the lemon drops for potential bribery. "Also, sadly- there will be someone else taking residence in the room."

"As long as I get the top bunk I'm fine with it, I ain't the one getting hurt."

"No, you see…" Now here is an interesting test to see if Pushkin is to be trusted. "I have a pet." He picks up the rat.

"Oh my god- you are Rat Boy." Pushkin snickers.

"His name is Myskin."

"Wow, real creative. That's like naming a kid 'humanie'."

"I'll keep quiet on any of your wrongdoings, and provide alibis for you as need be, you keep quiet and protect him." Fyodor tosses some lemon drops on the table, "To sweeten the deal."

"These are the sherbet-filled ones…very nice, very nice." Pushkin pops one in his mouth, "Alright, alright. Pleasure doing business- I'll give you the bottom bunk and the table, I'll get the other half and the top bunk for miscellaneous supplies."

"Miscellaneous supplies?"

"Jeez, I'm in my first year of high school- I'm not carrying drugs. Just don't fucking touch it."

"Okay, I wasn't trying to attack you for it." Fyodor shrugs, flopping on the bed. "No need to be so abrasive."

"…Ugh- yeah, pardon." He rubs the back of his neck, "I can't yell my head off- you say damn and everyone freaks out, so things kinda slip out. Wait, why the hell am I apologising?" He groans, messing his hair a bit, "You're a sucky roommate."

"I wouldn't really know."

"Fine…" He fiddles with his hoodie pocket, cursing a little as there's a soft beep. "I gotta go- get insulin and crap- feeling woozy, thanks for the drops." He opens the door, and Fyodor can just barely hear a, "Kehehe, Rat Boy."

Fyodor takes the time to sigh, and of course- check the top bunk to look at what Pushkin has. Insulin monitors, batteries, jelly beans, a multi-tool, 'Volume 3 of Tragic Duels of the 1800's' and a teddy bear. After inspecting these items and putting them back, Fyodor didn't particularly notice anything out of the ordinary, or rather- anything he wouldn't already expect.

He curls up, popping the candy in his mouth and waiting for the sugar to spill through as he stared up at the bed frame. Pushkin seems fickle, but Nikolai's moreso unflappable. He ponders for a moment if him and Nikolai could ever fight. It's entertaining to consider Nikolai covered in someone else's blood, but the idea of him getting hurt or the boy swinging a punch that doesn't magically warp into a hug is strange.

A hug? He tries to recall the feeling a little.

He doesn't have any particular attachment to his family. In a way, everything feels new and so much to take in. So many different kinds of air and noises too.

Ah- there's the sugar, it's a lot different from pills. The only thing worse than having to do math is having pills that are semi-dissolved in one's mouth.

He thinks back to the thought of Nikolai hugging him. He's definitely a hugger- though no such evidence has been presented, it's absolutely certain. Apparently, it's precisely seven seconds for a hug to have it's chemical effects- it's a shame it isn't a multiple of three. Would the effect be stacked if a hug continues or must it be repeated every seven seconds?

He reaches over to grab Myskin as his lab rat. 1…2…6…7. It's kind of nice. 8…27…53…Myskin squeaks softly…441…777…1563…

Wait shit. That was 26 minutes. He glances at the clock on the wall and he has 7 minutes to get there- one of which was most likely wasted on reading the analogue clock. Another which is wasted in not wanting to get up. He nestles Myskin in his bag, on his free day he'll have to get a cage…Rats need big cages though…What if he gets lonely? What if he needs a friend? What if he psychologically has a breakdown, gains a Napoleon complex and opposable thumbs and can hold an axe and ends up murdering one of the teachers?

And now he has 2 minutes.

That would be a very tiny axe though.

He puts on a jacket to hide the fact that he hasn't gotten changed out of his uniform, and...wait, where was the dining hall again?

And after circling his dorm approximately 2.521 times, he found it, smiling sheepishly at the stare of the teacher.

"Fedya!!! Fedya!!!" There were two arms frantically waving in one of the corner tables, of course belonging to Nikolai.

"You can yell quieter, you don't have to draw so much attention." Fyodor smiles a little, taking the seat next to...no, that's too much- the seat opposite Nikolai.

"But then what's the point? The purpose is to garner your attention." Nikolai shrugs, "Did you get settled?"

Fyodor thinks back to the 27 minutes spent hugging his rat instead of setting up his room. "...Somewhat."

"Oi, seat's taken?" Pushkin slides in next to Nikolai, and Fyodor internally curses that he should've done so earlier.

"Not until a second ago, who're you?"

"We're dorm mates..." Fyodor shrugs, "Actually, wouldn't you have other people to sit with?"

"Eh, not really..." Pushkin shrugs, "Constantly skip class, being the one left in between brawls…"

"Hm?" Nikolai tilts his head, "Isn't there policies against that?"

"Gogol, Gogol." Pushkin smiles a little, "Look at me."

"I am looking at you." Nikolai nods, "…?"

"Pushkin."

"Yes, I am still looking at you." "Am I really the kind of person that cares about that kinda thing?"

"No, not particularly- you seem like the kinda person that puts chewing gum under tables."

"Are you serious? That's what you think of me? I'm cut, Gogol." Pushkin huffs, "I have standards- I put them in the bin."

"Oh, the food's ready. I think it's schi." Fyodor mumbles, putting his hands over his ears a little- thankful they got a side table.

"Alright, I'm going up." Pushkin moves, "You guys want me to swipe some extra bread?"

"No, I think I'll wait." Fyodor waves a hand dismissively.

"Ah- I'm not that hungry." Nikolai mumbles.

Pushkin shrugs, moving to join the queue.

"You sure?" Fyodor turns to Nikolai, "I know cabbage isn't the greatest thing in the world, but you didn't have anything for lunch."

"Ah- I had some while I was in my dorm room."

"More communion wafers, or bread?"

Nikolai laughs, "Bread, bread. I had a sandwich, some water." He's looking away a little, or maybe it's just because of his eye.

Fyodor mulls over the sentence, "Do you have a lot of carrots?" Fyodor points to his own left eye. "I mean, not to be insensitive or anything."

"No, no- it's fine." Nikolai smiles, "It's not really that- I just kinda have…what's it called? Cataracts?"

"Oh, so your lens is clouded."

"Yeah- but I'm gonna get surgery for it later, probably after I graduate- it's apparently pretty easy."

"Ah I se-" Fyodor coughs, "I get it."

"It's no big deal- it's fine- but it does help when I glare at people, with an 'evil eye'."

"That's great and all- but I don't think I can imagine you actively glaring at people."

Nikolai puffs his chest out, "Well, that's because I'm hiding my true powers!"

"…You have powers, you remember that right?" Fyodor deadpans.

"…Oh." Nikolai pouts, "Dammit. Forgot about that."

"You guys gonna get food or what?" Pushkin sits down.

"Yeah, I think I will." Fyodor stands up, "You want to join me?"

Nikolai glances at Pushkin raising an eyebrow, "Sure."

The two get up, moving along the line, "You okay with the noise? You keep blocking your ears…"

"Ah- well, it's fine, I'm just not used to it…"

"Hm..." Nikolai hums in thought, "Maybe you should get some headphones or something to muffle it…"

"That would look ridiculous though, constantly walking around like that."

"Well- it's an idea!" Nikolai moves along the queue, skipping the soup- getting some salad.

"You hate cabbage?"

"I prefer borscht." Nikolai shrugs, averting his eyes away from the table of staff in front of him. Fyodor swears one of them was staring at them, but…considering the fiasco during the day- that's to be expected, right?

Still, there was something odd- as Pushkin tried to push Nikolai to eat some bread as the other poked around in his salad, trying to talk to Fyodor about the classes they had to avoid Pushkin's scolding.

"Honestly…I'm just trying to look out for him."

"If he doesn't want it, we shouldn't push him."

Pushkin groans, "Heh, well at least I sneaked it into his jacket pocket- he's gonna wake up in the middle of the night, stomach grumbling- and reach into his pocket and 'wow! That Pushkin is a real nice guy, ain't he?' Kehehehe…"

"I suppose." That's useful- he's a sneak, but somewhat okay. A decent enough ally.

"I'm gonna go back to the dorm- the rat isn't gonna bother anything, right?"

Fyodor shakes his head, "No- I put him in a container I put holes in…It's not good- but it'll do until I get a cage on the free day."

"Alright." Pushkin shrugs, leaving Fyodor to walk around the place, peering in to notice

Nikolai washing up.

"You need some help?" Fyodor picks up some plates, struggling at the weight, before putting them on the sink.

"Oh…sure. You can dry them off." Nikolai gives him a towel. "I didn't really know what else to do, so I thought I'd help out…I guess."

Fyodor nods, drying the plates and cutlery. Nikolai's shirt sleeves are rolled up, and he notices the litheness of his arms.

"Fedya? You stopped." The words stir him, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine…" He turns his gaze back to the task at hand.

"Also, could you throw the bread in my jacket back?" Nikolai says, "I noticed Pushkin putting it in, but I didn't want to be rude."

"Ah, so you did." Fyodor shrugs, putting a hand in the other's jacket, grabbing the bread and- his hand feels plastic brushing against it.

"Just drop it."

Fyodor relinquishes his grip, as the garbage bin moves softly.

"I could've walked, you know- you didn't have to use your ability."

"I wanted to see if you would freak out over it."

They continue washing and drying, until the work thins. "Do you think there's other people with abilities?"

"Probably." Nikolai shrugs, "I'd like to think if you had one- it'd be kinda quiet, nothing flashy, something silent- but powerful."

"You think so?" Fyodor stifles a laugh, "I wouldn't call myself 'powerful'."

"Why not?" Nikolai smiles, "Okay, let's practise- carry as many bowls as you can into the cupboards."

Fyodor was heaving with four, Nikolai was effortlessly moving them ten at a time.

"You're using your ability, that's not fair." Fyodor pouts, "Anyone can lift something heavy for but a millisecond."

"Hmph, fine. I'll take seven, I bet!" Nikolai carrys them, resting his chin on the rims of the bowl, as his thin arms shake a little. "Al…most…-"

"You really shouldn't push your-" But Nikolai had already feel, the ceramic bowls going through his coat to clatter loudly against the counter.

"What's going on over there?" A teacher walks over, the same one that had issued them detention.

"We didn't have much homework, so we wanted to help clean up." Fyodor murmurs, "I was carrying too many plates and made Nikolai trip accidentally, is all."

"…" She scrunches her face, "Well, I appreciate your initiative to help, but I would rather you run along back to your rooms. Curfew will be approaching soon."

"Of course." Fyodor nods, helping Nikolai up. "Are you okay?"

Nikolai brushes himself off, "Yeah- it's weird, I should be fine with carrying that."

"It doesn't matter- but I think we've had enough cleaning up for today." Fyodor shrugs. "You won't trip on the way to your room, right?"

"Oh, come on- I'll be fine. Probably."

"Hmph, fine." They stand there, for a while. Are…they supposed to hug goodbye? Is that what friends do? He didn't do it with Pushkin. It felt nice with Myskin, it would be better with Nikolai, right? "Um…goodnight, Kolya."

Dammit. Maybe another night.

"Goodnight Fedya."

[wailingwhilewriting-blog]

Tugging at my Heart, part 4

Edit: Re-upload because I suck at migrating blogs.

Summary: You’re a literature teacher who quickly takes an interest in the new P.E. teacher, Mr. Odinson.

Pairings: Teacher!Thor x Teacher!Reader

Type: Series

Warnings: Minor cursing, fluff, a little bit creepy dudebro behaviour.

Word Count: 2449

A/N: I loved, loved, loved writing this chapter. Honestly, I think I used so many tropes and cliche’s in this chapter, but that’s the good thing about writing your own fanfiction, you can use whatever the hell you want. I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did, and still do!

Masterlist

Part 3, part 5

You smiled lightly at the bartender of the Commodore, a buff guy in a black t-shirt with an amazing smile, but honestly, your thoughts were very much preoccupied with a different buff dude. No, not a dude. A man. You shook your head slightly and grimaced at your train of thought.

You were at the Commodore, a local bar that was often frequented by you, Natasha and Maria Hill, but you were seriously beginning to think that they had forgotten about you. You had finished your first scotch and had just gotten your refill, and the buff bartender was beginning to give you serious pity-glances.

Besides feeling rather fed up with your flunking friends, you felt rather pretty. It was amazing what your favourite maroon dress did for your mood, or maybe it was just the change from your formal attire that had you feeling pretty.

You took a gentle sip from your scotch as you gazed at the bar’s entrance, gently tapping your heel against your bar stool. You couldn’t believe Nat and Maria had forgotten about you. You growled softly. Unless, of course, this was a set-up, maybe a begin of the year prank. You took a look around the bar itself, and found it rather empty. What a joke…

You downed your scotch, grimaced as the scotch went down your throat and shook your head slightly to get rid of the burn. You grabbed your purse and vest and were about to walk out of the Commodore when a hand gently grabbed your wrist. You whirled around, expecting to see either Natasha or Maria, but you were greeted by a brown-haired guy that seemed vaguely familiar.

You groaned inwardly. It was Brad. You recognized his overly fake tan now. He greeted you with open arms and a stupid grin.

"(f/n)! Good to see you!" he said with a gruff voice, while you managed an awkward smile. You hugged him weakly, trying to break apart as quick as you could.

"Brad... Good to see you too," you faltered.

He saw your vest and purse. "What you leaving already? But the night has only just begun!"

"Errm, I was actually waiting for someone," you stammered, but Brad didn't look convinced.

"Oh, I'd love to meet your friends!" he said quickly, and made a point of it to look around dramatically.

"I'm afraid I got stood up..." you tried.

"Oh no... That's terrible... Who could forget about a meeting with a lovely lady like you?" He lightly ghosted his hand over your bare arm, and you flinched back. "Come! Have a drink with me, let's catch up!" he said.

"No thanks, Brad. I should really head out," you managed.

"Well, let me drive you home then!" he offered, and you quickly shook your head.

"No that's fine, but thanks..." You tried to walk past him, but he took a step to the side and blocked your way.

"I insist," he said with a smile you could only deem creepy. You threw a glance at the bartender who was serving a large group of girls. You glanced at the entrance, but neither Nat or Maria had the timing to walk in right that moment.

"You know what? I have to use the restroom..." you said with grim smile, and turned away from the entrance and back towards the back of the bar. Once you reached the bathroom you quickly checked your phone. No messages. You furiously picked Natasha's number and groaned with every soft beep until, eventually, you reached her voicemail. You tried again, but to no avail. You tried Maria's number, but right that moment your phone beeped softly that your battery was empty and died in your hands.

"No! No, no. Fuck!" you cursed. You checked the stalls for any other ladies that might help you, but all came up empty. This was slowly turning into a horror movie scenario and you didn't like it one bit.

You left the bathroom and peeked out through the door. Brad was still waiting at the bar. He was gazing around casually, and when his eyes drifted towards the bathrooms, you quickly retreated. You walked back to the sinks and stared at yourself for a moment.

"Alright (f/n), you got this. You just have to convince him you have a boyfriend! Or that you have a concealed gun! Either works!" you spoke sternly to yourself. You took a deep breath and took off towards the bar again, clenching your fists in case you had to use them.

Brad greeted you with a wide smile, which you answered with a slight nod.

"There she is!" he said loudly. "Wow, it feels like I haven't seen you in forever, (f/n). Actually, I think it was our first date that I last saw you."

You fidgeted uneasily with your purse, and tried to walk past him again, but he skilfully herded you to his side with his arm.

"I wonder why you never called me back..." he said softly, and you quickly took a step away from him.

"It doesn't matter, Brad, I have a boyfriend now," you tried to say it with a growl, but you saw that he didn't buy it.

"Oh, is he the one that stood you up? Because that is just bad manners... And I don't stand for ladies being treated badly," he leaned into you and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. You took another step back in disgust.

You heard the bar door’s bell jingle and you prayed for Maria’s brown coupe of hair or Natasha’s red locks. When a blonde walked in, your heart sank, and lifted again one beat later when you actually recognized the blonde giant. You rushed past Brad, worked your way past all the bar stools and nearly jumped into Thor’s arms, hugging him tightly. Thor stumbled back a step as he caught you and gently wrapped his arms around your waist as he held you up.

“Rather an affectionate greeting, (f/n)…” he muttered softly as he spun you around.

“Yeah, sorry about that…” you breathed back, your cheeks glowing. Thor let you down but kept his arms around your waist and looked at you curiously.

“Remember the guy I told you about… the one I went on one date with, and as soon as he knew I was a teacher suggested roleplay?” You muttered softly as you fidgeted with Thor’s jacket, which was only a few shades darker than your maroon dress. Thor nodded. “Yeah, he’s here,” you said reluctantly.

“Are you okay?” Thor said immediately, his eyes searing over the bar’s interior.

“Yeah, I’m fine. He just.. I just want to leave,” you muttered.

Brad decided to butt in right that moment. “Hi! You must be the boyfriend,” he said, a challenge hidden in his tone and eyes.

You felt Thor tighten his grip on your waist as he shook Brad’s hand and smiled politely. “That’s right,” he said simply.

“Man, you are so tall!” Brad said dramatically. He hit Thor on the shoulder in a mock-gesture of friendship, and Thor only looked at his shoulder, then back at Brad. You swore there was a crackle of energy in the air as the two men stared each other down. Brad backed down from the stare-down after a moment and took a step back, taking a swig of his beer.

“Wise man,” Thor said heartily, smacked Brad on the shoulder so hard that he stumbled backwards and gently led you towards one of the free booths. You two sat on opposite sides of the table and you couldn’t help but grasp his hands tightly in yours as you smiled widely at him.

“Thank you,” you said sincerely. “You saved me.”

Thor chuckled and leaned into you, gently squeezing your joined hands. “Not a problem, (f/n). I’m glad Natasha invited me out tonight.”

You stared at him for a moment. “Nat invited you out?”

Thor nodded. “She said to meet her here, said you and ms. Hill would gather here.”

“That bi –“ you growled, quickly cutting yourself off at the last moment. Thor stared at you with a slightly confused grin. “I’m afraid we’ve both been misled, my fine colleague. This was a set-up, and they are not coming,” you sighed. You looked at the door and groaned when you saw that Brad was still hanging at the bar. “Looks like we’ll have to hold up the charade a little while longer when we get out of here.”

Thor chuckled. “Even if this was a set-up, I only just arrived, (f/n). And we don’t have to leave because you’re silly admirer is eyeing us up.”

“I mean, sure, but I can’t expect you to keep up the charade… Or fight him, or whatever,” you said hesitantly.

“Are you kidding? We men don’t always solve things with our fists,” Thor said with a grin. He leaned in close and pressed a kiss to your hands. “Besides, I’m really rather enjoying being your boyfriend for the night.”

You smiled widely and shook your head a little. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Please, it’s perfectly fine,” Thor laughed and leaned in a bit more. “Now, how about we test Chad’s –“

“Brad.”

“… How about we test Brad’s endurance, eh? Give him a run for his money.”

You nodded and snorted loudly as you laughed. The two scotches you had downed earlier were certainly the cause, but you didn’t care much at the moment. You really only cared for Thor’s blue eyes as they twinkled cheerily at you.

Thor ordered a beer and you ordered a whiskey, straight on the rocks and the two of you fell into easy conversation. Thor spoke cheerily of his family. His father was a rather influential figure in a major company, and Thor had once been destined to follow in his father’s footsteps, but he had declined and pursued something that made him feel like a good man. His brother Loki had clashed with his father and Thor himself over the family legacy, and he had spent some time away from the family, but contact had been restored in the last few years.

You talked lightly of your own family, and how you had chosen to become a teacher after your English Bachelor because it was the only thing you could think of that actually made sense to you. You spoke of how you met Nat and how she had sort of taken you under her wing.

You switched over to wine, and Thor kept on the beer. He talked of his youth in Norway and the city of Asgard where he was born. He talked of his earliest memories there, of the long talks his father had with him and his brother. He even talked of his first steady girlfriend, who had changed him from a foolish jerk into someone who wanted to strive for better things.

“And then she dumped me when I spend some months back in Norway…” he said with a reminiscent grin. “It was driving her mad that I was away so often, and honestly, who could blame her.”

“Did you ever look her up after you came back?”

“Yeah.. She became a brilliant scientist. Married a friendly lad about a year ago,” Thor said with a sad smile.

“Ah..” You said softly. You snaked your fingers into his without a second thought. After a moment of smiling sheepishly at him, you glanced at your intertwined fingers and quickly tried to pull them back, but Thor quickly grabbed your hand with his other one. He smiled lightly and tilted his head towards the bar, where Brad still hung out, slightly wobbly on his legs after consuming one beer too many.

You burst out laughing, which, when sober, you would have found terribly embarrassing, but right now you didn’t really mind. Your peripheral vision was getting pretty blurry, so you shook your head when Thor offered to buy you a refill.

Thor threw a glance around the bar, which had slowly emptied out even more. He glanced at his watch and frowned slightly at the time. “Right, I think it’s about time to get you home. You ready for another show of force for Brad over there?” He rose from the booth and offered you his arm.

You chuckled and gratefully took his arm. You felt slightly unsteady on your legs as Thor led you towards the bar. He kept his arm around your waist protectively as he paid the bill and winked at you as he led you past the bar and past Brad. Brad looked at the two of you sluggishly as you walked towards the door. You put on your thin vest and eyed the cold outside air with reluctance, but Thor quickly shook out of his jacket.

“Allow me,” he said softly, and gently placed his jacket over your shoulders. He glanced in Brad’s general direction and gently leaned into you, bringing his lips rather close to your ear. “Ready for the big finale so Chad doesn’t bother you again?”

You nodded quietly as you didn’t much trust your voice at the moment. Thor let his lips linger near your ear a little longer, and a shiver ran down your spine.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly. Your heart felt like it was hammering against your rib-cage, trying to break free. You gave the tiniest of nods. Thor chuckled, and the deep rumble in his chest made you only feel more unsteady. He gently wrapped his arm around your waist, and cupped your face with his free hand. He softly pressed his lips to yours and you melted into his embrace. Your fingers knotted themselves into his black t-shirt, and he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb as he kissed you with a bit more fervour. When he was about to break away you pulled him back by his shirt, pressing one more firm kiss to his lips.

Your breath hitched slightly when you did break apart then, figuring that was all you were going to get, but Thor pressed one more kiss to your jaw, gently tilting your chin upwards with his fingers. He straightened, that ridiculous grin of his widening as he looked at you for a long moment. He winked at you while he glanced at the bar and held up his hand in greeting.

“Good to meet you, Chad!” he said with a rather smug grin, wound his arm around your shoulder and the two of you swiftly walked out of the Commodore. All the while your heart was hammering against your ribs like it wanted to burst from elation.