xvcit

[the-star-and-the-smols]

Protip: remove the tiny from the hand BEFORE doing happy flaps

Source: my very tiny very dizzy partner

[agoodflyting]

Good Omens Historical Trivia That's Haunting Me Today...

So we all know A.Z. Fell & Co is located on the fictitious Whickber Street in Soho and was established in 1800.

Aziraphale has run the shop ever since then and was in contact with Crowley at least until the 1820's when they took their little jaunt to Edinburgh and Crowley got sucked down the tube slide to Hell. They meet up again no later than the 1860's, when Crowley asks for Holy Water.

Stands to reason that between the 1820's and 1860's Aziraphale was in Soho doing Aziraphale things. Running his bookshop. Eating tiny cakes

Yeah... you know what else was going on in Soho during that time?

The worst cholera epidemic in London history.

If you don't know, cholera is a deadly bacterial infection caused by drinking contaminated water. Prior to the 1850's humans weren't really sure what caused cholera, but they knew it was terrifying and also that it was absolutely epidemic in big cities.

TW: this is gross - The main symptoms of cholera are agonizing stomach pain and non-stop watery diarrhea, eventually leading to the skin turning blue due to the thickening of blood from severe dehydration. Patients can lose more than 20% of their body weight in hours as they quite literally evacuate every drop of water in their bodies until they die of heart failure. - OK gross part over

Cholera symptoms show up as short as 5 hours after infection and could kill within as little as 12 hours. Cholera was especially terrifying because of how quickly and painfully it killed you, and because the patient maintained mental clarity up until the point of death. More than half of the people who contracted cholera died within a few days after consuming the bacteria-contaminated water.

And guess what water had cholera bacteria in it?

The public water pump on Broad Street in Soho in August of 1854

And this wasn't one of those epidemics that starts slowly and drags on. It hit like a bomb. It killed 600 Soho residents in ten days.

That's roughly 60 people a day in a 3-4 block area. Most of them died at home because the disease struck too quickly for them to to make it to a hospital. Survivors described hearses stacked with coffins 4-5 high going down the street nonstop all day long during the outbreak. Entire families were wiped out overnight.

What does that have to do with Good Omens?

Aziraphale's book shop was right in the epicenter of this outbreak.

Neil Gaiman has been pretty free about the fact that Whickber Street is a thinly veiled expy of the real Berwick Street in Soho.

This is a famous map showing the 1854 Soho Cholera epidemic. I highlighted Berwick Street and the public water pump that was the center of the contagion. The black bars (I circled a few in blue) on the map designate deaths. The thicker the black bar, the more people died in that particular house.

51 people died the week of the cholera outbreak on Aziraphale's Street alone.

Cholera was one of those diseases that provoked a lot of panic, not just because of how fast and painful it was, but because of the way it didn't follow common conventions about class or age. Children died while the elderly survived (often because the elderly had no one to gather water for them). Lower class houses were spared while their middle class landlords died. Churches were packed that week, because people in Soho had no idea who would get sick next. The epidemic pretty much burned itself out in a week and a half, since by that point everyone who drank the water had already died. I have to wonder what our resident Angel was up to during that time. Obviously cholera can't hurt him, but that's his neighborhood. There's no way hundreds of people, including entire families with children, are dying painfully in his neighborhood and Aziraphale doesn't notice. That means that in between this scene:

And this one:

Aziraphale would have watched one of the worst disease outbreaks in London history play out right outside his front door. I feel like there's great potential for a good story there if anyone better than me wants to write it.

[temis-de-leon]

Love potion and Dateables - Part 3

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Intro , Part 1 , Part 2

Masterlist

CW: fluff, hurt, insecurities, Barbatos is living in a horror movie for a hot minute, boys are crushing hard and MC is implied to be crushing hard too, pre-established relationship

A/N: I didn't know what to do for Simeon's part and it turned out to be the longest

.

Diavolo

His extensive knowledge on etiquette begged him to knock the door, but his longing asked him otherwise. He didn’t have much time until Lucifer came looking for him and he really, deeply, needed to see you.

RAD’s latest festival had been a massive hit, various stalls displaying regional costumes, homemade food and games, and he had been naïve enough to think he finally had the chance to take you on a real date. A moment with no interruptions for him to show you how he felt and for you to, hopefully, love him back.

Sadly, spirit week passed by and Diavolo barely had any time to see you. All he watched, from your stunning features to your sparkling eyes, had been from afar. And now, days later, he still felt a tingle in his chest whenever he remembered how you looked during the festivities.

So he knocked once, twice, thrice, until his impatience got the best of him and made him open the door.

The room was dark, but your scent still lingered. It felt weird, however. What was it? Your blood and sweat? The products you used on your body and your clothes? Scented candles, perfume, food…? What was it? A mix of everything, it seemed.

The guilt of intruding your private space mildly subdued when he saw the cauldron on the table.

So that’s what it was. Surely homework for Solomon, although he’d had to ask the sorcerer what was the purpose of this particular assignment.

The potion looked like blood covered velvet and it immediately reminded him of his future: a rich fabric drowned in danger. On the other hand, its warmth soon embraced his face, allowing him to imagine your fingers caressing his cheekbones, your lips covering his in a smile with ridiculous care.

Diavolo sighed and walked away from the table, not sure of what to do. He couldn’t stay and risk being caught by you, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night if he went back to the castle without talking to you first.

He checked his uniform, straightening his tie before brushing his hair with his fingers.

If he was lucky, he’d cross paths with you on the hallway.

Barbatos

The House of Lamentation was introduced to a new routine the moment Barbatos saw that rat. Mandatory deep cleaning once a week and very recommended evacuation once a month for disinfecting purposes. Barbatos would refuse to enter the house otherwise, which was the last thing he wanted to do because he hadn’t spent any quality time with you in days.

There had been chit-chat in RAD whenever he saw you, as well as short trivial conversations on the phone. He’d also tried to invite you to his tamest shopping trips and as much tea parties as he was capable of organizing, but damn the brothers for being jealous and making everything so difficult.

Never in his life he would’ve believe he’d feel thankful for a rat’s existence.

However, MC, if you didn’t open your door in the next ten seconds he would open it himself.

Barbatos knocked again, mouth full of saliva and heart jumping out of his chest. He could feel something crawling up his back, whiskers and soft fur exploring his skin under the uniform and tiny claws scratching whatever they could.

Unable to keep waiting in the deserted hallway, wide enough for any rodent to run up to him without being detected, he rushed inside your room and closed the door with a bang. He felt deeply embarrassed, thankful that you weren’t there to see his dishevelled state, but his demeanour changed when he smelt the room.

It was something he was very familiar with: the tea blend he made just for you! Smiling softly at the realization, he created an image in his mind; you trying to do the blend on your own and succeeding. It made his heart soar in pride and apreciation.

His mood quickly changed without him noticing and soon the only thing occupying his mind was you. How thankful you were of his actions, MC, how happy you made him feel by simply existing.

Feeling stronger than ever and giving himself a few more seconds to breathe and regain his rationality, Barbatos opened the door and stepped out of your room.

His fears be damned; he was in dire need of your presence.

Solomon

Your smell vanished soon after your departure and Solomon had to grip the edges of the table to stop himself from grabbing the vial again. He knew what would happen then, as it happened before. He would lose himself in the potion and the memories within, every reason he had to love you and to feel loved by you.

Your humanity, tainted, but still present, the colour of your eyes, the softness of your skin; the lack of horns and wings and tail. How you trusted him against everyone’s advice, like you knew there was more to him that no one else bothered to see.

And he refused to feel threatened by someone like Mammon; Barbatos or Simeon he could understand, but why Mammon? Why did he have to sit and stare whenever the Avatar of Greed reached the limit of his jealousy? And why did that limit lower when Solomon was present?

He frowned in anger and frustration. Ironically, the thing he knew would make him feel better was the one he was viciously trying to avoid. Was he even an option for you, MC? Asmo did tell him from time to time to go for it, but he also inserted himself in those fantasies, so Solomon tended to take his words with a pinch of salt.

Unable to resist the temptation of your comfort, he walked towards the cabinet and grabbed the vial again. How could such a small container radiate so much warmth? For so many years he had it and in just a few months it grew stronger than ever.

Reinvigorated.

That’s how you made him feel. You may call him an old man and he may be an old man, MC, but he wasn’t one to bend the knee and he wouldn’t start doing that now.

Feeling determined, Solomon vaguely waved his hand and watched as his room tidied up itself. Books flying to the shelves on the walls, spell equipment returning to its original place in the table and clothes resting in hangers.

You once called him Mary Poppins and he had yet to understand, but never mind that for now.

He’d give you enough time to make your own potion during the evening and then he’d go to the House of Lamentation. Having your friendship was enough, but King Solomon the Wise never settled.

Simeon

The moment he heard Solomon’s door close, his heart went up his throat, blood rushing through his body in excitement. The table was full of vegetables, meats and fruit native to the Devildom, the result of experimentation as a cure to boredom, and he deeply hoped you could stay for dinner. He needed more testers other than Luke’s sweet tooth and Solomon’s destroyed palate.  

To his disappointment, the only thing you did when you entered the kitchen was wave goodbye.

“Gotta leave, Simeon! Enjoy dinner!”

“Wait! MC!”

You turned around, fighting to force your arm inside the jacket with your schoolbag tightly secured between your legs. You looked at him silently, embarrassed? Probably due to the unnecessary effort when gathering your things.

“Why don’t you stay for dinner? There’s more than enough for all of us”

You smiled back at him, suddenly bashful, before pointing at your bag.

“I have homework to do, blame your roommate”

He laughed and rolled his eyes, trying not to show his dissatisfaction at seeing you leaving once again, but he could try another time. Probably best to ask in advance, though.

“What did he ask you to do?”

His hands went back to the food, cleaning, cutting and slicing with carefulness, but his eyes were set on you. Simeon couldn’t help but feel anything other than delight when he noticed you leaving the bag on the floor and coming closer.

“It’s a love potion, he said it might come in handy in the future”

“Did he now?”

For what, he may wonder. He hoped you never felt the need to use it; your heart was more than enough to enchant anyone you encountered.

“He showed it to me once, too” he confessed, not really thinking through what he was saying “It smelled rather nice; although I suppose that’s its purpose…”

His mouth stayed open, unsure of what to say next, before finally closing with a snap. Simeon’s attention went back to the food once more, failing to see your uncertainty at his words.

“And what did you…?”

He raised his gaze when you stopped talking and your shy demeanour took him by surprise. Did something happen? Did he say something wrong? He was about to ask, worried at your silence, but you beat him to it.

“Forget it, it’s nothing. I’m going home, okay? I need to study”

“Stay safe, MC”

You nodded, then grabbed your bag again and left the kitchen. Barely a minute later he heard the front door open and close one final time.

Whatever happened? Everything seemed to be doing okay, although he did stop looking at you for a short moment. Did the love potion have something to do with it? Solomon better pray that wasn’t the case, otherwise he’d be learning a new method of teaching very soon.

Fortunately for the sorcerer, thinking about the love potion again made him remember what he smelled when he saw it for the first time. A faint scent of old books, like a memory, and a stronger coat of cinnamon, cocoa powder and whipped cream.

He had a great idea.

Maybe a couple of pastries would make you feel better! He’d need to notify Lucifer in advance so someone could hide the desserts from Beel until you were finished.

Or should he deliver them in person? Simeon couldn’t avoid imagining you opening your bedroom door, smile wide in your face upon seeing him and offering him to eat his baking together, like many times before.

He’d make sure to prepare your favourites; he knew them by memory.

.

.

@hello-gloomy  @the-sassiest-toaster  @hero-nii-blog  @yourlocalyin  @elaemae  @eliciria  @darkflowerav  @zarakem  @yuuvis32  @anxious-chick  @commets-space  @deepestartisanhumanoidshark  @ourfinalisation

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (2)

Summary: Terry and Treece are feeling the sparks again.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,659

Part: 2 of ??

Warnings: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Previous

Grocery shopping was Patrice's private pastime. She was the queen of her universe when she walked through aisles every Saturday morning. Every flash bargain and value-sized item bent to her will for a chance at making it to her humble abode and fulfilling its one purpose in life. Employees greeted her like royalty. Customers started conversations like old friends, always giving her the scoop on any sale they'd overheard in their neighborhood Facebook groups. She was happy. She was zen. She was in her element.

"Do you need this?" 

She was a woman dragging around a large man intent on breaking any modicum of concentration she had left.

Patrice stopped and looked over her shoulder at Terry, who held a bag of cotton candy grapes up in the air for her inspection. "No, TJ. Put it down." 

"Why? You like grapes." 

"Because we're getting grapes from the farmer's market. Now, put it back."

Her rebuke was sweet but stern. Having him as a way too familiar roommate was becoming easier as the days passed. But she'd be lying if she said she didn't miss the freedom to go for a walk, watch a movie on the couch, or even enjoy an intimate moment alone in her own house without a man looming somewhere in the very near background. 

He didn't allow her to travel alone, and she never had the energy to protest. 

"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a kid," he grumbled as he put the grapes back in their place.

"Then stop acting like one. I have a list. I know what I need." 

"I know what I need." He exaggerated his mimicry for maximum effect. 

"You see how that was childish?" 

"Whatever." 

Patrice ignored him in favor of browsing packages of beef for the best deal. If she didn't respond, maybe he would get the hint. And, for a few moments, he did. Terry took a break in conversation to scan the immediate area quietly. He noted each patron and their most important details before checking the exit and entry points at the front of the store. They weren't secure enough, but he could manage if the situation required evacuation.

A lack of action soon turned his attention back to Patrice, who still hadn't decided. He gave her a slow once over and smiled at how much focus she put into such a simple choice. Her brow remained furrowed in intense thought, transforming her into the ninth-grade Patrice he met during a chance encounter in the library. Truthfully, he didn't have much of an opinion either way. He just wanted to talk to her every second of the day, even if it meant being annoying. 

"Get that one." 

His sudden interruption startled Patrice out of her zone, adding a final straw to an already exhausted camel's back. Terry grinned in triumph as she closed her eyes for a calming breath. 

"Terry," she spoke, slow and measured to keep the peace. "Take the other half of this list and get out of my face. Don't come back until you find everything. I'll meet you at the register." 

She didn't give him much time to protest before she shoved a carefully torn half of paper into his chest and sent him on his way. He gave her a sarcastic salute, which she waved off without a second look. She needed a moment alone and didn't care if he came back with Fruity O's instead of Fruit Loops if that meant he would be out of her hair for more than 10 minutes. 

Terry found himself slowly meandering around the grocery store with a tiny basket in tow, exhausted by all the options on each aisle. If Patrice hadn't been so meticulous with her lists, he would've given up on the mission and gone back to home base with his tail tucked between his legs. 

After sourcing the perfect pint of Oreo ice cream as an apology for his behavior, Terry found himself drawn to the sound of laughter on the next aisle. Sure enough, Patrice was parked by the frozen vegetables and engaged with a man dressed in the store's colors with his eyes directed far too low to be looking at Patrice's face. 

Terry quickly reached her location, stopping behind Patrice to show her guest the full extent of his scowl. 

Patrice noticed how his once loose body language had gone stiff and sighed. She didn't need to investigate the problem. Only her human pitbull could make a man cower in fear like that. 

"Derrick, this is Terry. Terry, this is Derrick. He usually helps me get stuff to my car." 

"Ah, man. It's a good thing I'm here, right? We don't need you taking too many breaks from stocking. Mornin' rush can get crazy." 

"Terry," Patrice admonished with a harsh whisper and an elbow to his stomach. 

Terry remained steadfast, keeping his eyes on Derrick while taking one step closer. A taunting smile tugged on the right side of his mouth. He waited on any sign of fight from his unspoken adversary. 

Derrick stood in palpable discomfort, sizing up the outcomes if he decided to test his luck. Each mental scenario led him back to some instance of physical harm on his last shift of the week. He had plans for the weekend, none involving a trip to the emergency room.

Patrice stood between a rock and a hardheaded man, praying that the Lord would end her suffering.

"That's what I was about to say," Derrick answered before shifting his attention back to Patrice. "I think I oughta get going. See you around, Ms. Ellis?" 

"Same time next week." 

He nodded in half-hearted agreement and hurried out of dodge, with Terry keeping a watchful eye until he was safely around the corner. 

Patrice groaned with one hand, rubbing tight circles at her temple. "What in the hell was that about?" 

"He wouldn't even look you in the eye. If he can't look you in the eye when he's speaking, he can't protect you, and he doesn't respect you." 

"I'm not looking for his protection. I need this water loaded into my trunk every week when you aren't here!" 

"I'll never not be here. Problem solved."

His declaration was so sure, so matter of fact, that it left Patrice no room for retort. So she resorted to schoolyard antics. 

It was her turn to mock him with an exaggerated, deep voice. "Problem solved. Push the damn cart since you got so much energy." 

He obliged without protest and a proud, self-satisfied grin that Patrice couldn't see while she led the way to the register. An unexpected system error had halted all transactions, leaving them log jammed in a long line of restless customers. 

Together, they stood sharing light banter and running through weekend tasks, resembling any other couple making a store run to strangers observing them from the outside looking in. Former acquaintances, however, had no problem drawing attention to the pair from three spots back in line. 

"I know that ain't who I think it is." Both Patrice's and Terry's eyes darted up to find the source of the loud outburst, only to whisper 'fuck’ in tandem when they spotted Katrina Spivey waving her arms to grab their attention. "Hey, Terry Richmond!" 

Terry pretended to ignore being singled out by turning his back, earning a stifled laugh from Patrice. Katrina, not one to be deterred, used the moment to push past patrons in line until she reached her destination with a host of angry faces in her wake. 

"Well, if it ain't Mr. and Miss Homecoming in the flesh. You two finally stopped kidding around and got married?" 

"No," Terry answered without much explanation, his back still turned. Patrice reluctantly made up his slack. 

"What Terry meant to say was that we're not married. We're not together at all, actually. But he's here to visit me for a while." 

"What a blessing it is to have friends you can lean on when you need a helping hand."

"Amen."

An awkward tension settled into the conversation's lull, compounded by Terry's outright refusal to engage. Patrice was in deep water without a paddle and a co-captain who had already jumped ship.

Katrina wouldn't let the conversation end and take her newfound place in line. She continued to pry.

"Both of y'all look good! How long has it been since we last saw each other, huh? Gotta be since Terry's graduation send-off." 

Patrice feigned interest with a hollow smile. "Yeah, I think that was it. A looong time ago. All grown up now."

"And thank God for it! I remember how sad you looked all night because ol' Terry was moving away. Like a little crying puppy!" 

Katrina's laughter didn't quite reach Terry or Patrice, who bristled at mentioning one of the more contentious nights in their friendship. 

"Everybody's been a little young and dumb, right? Like when you and BJ got caught underneath the bleachers during state championships." 

Checkmate. A little reminder of her indiscretions had turned Katrina's condescending smile into a mean mug that could burn through anyone not equally as stubborn. 

Terry showed his approval with a light nudge against Patrice's arm. That was his girl. Sweet as pie but a tongue coated in venom when backed against the wall. He'd been on the receiving end on one too many occasions. It felt good to be on the winning side this time. 

Three seconds of a Western standoff had culminated in a gift sent via store intercom. 

"Apologies for the stoppage, folks. Our registers are back up and running. Thanks for your patience." 

Terry moved the cart to place items on the conveyor belt while Patrice waited for the conversation to resume.

Recovering from the sharp end of a verbal lashing, Katrina cleared her throat and grabbed hold of her cart in preparation to skip lines. 

"Well, I don't wanna hold y'all too much longer. If y'all don't think you're too good to mingle with us Francis High Hornets anymore, Corey's throwing a little Juneteenth gathering at his daddy's pool hall. This is my personal invite for the both of you."

"We were already invited. Maybe we'll make an appearance." 

"That'd be grand." 

"I bet it would."

Nice nasty smiles passed between the two foes until Katrina was off to harass some other unsuspecting patron. 

Patrice tried to let go of her frustration with an angry huff before turning to catch up with Terry, who was casually moving groceries from the bagging station to the shopping basket. He waited a moment before acknowledging the obvious. 

"You over it now, or do I need to iron a shirt for tonight?" 

"I'm over it," Patrice answered plainly. She calmly handed over payment for the day's groceries and smiled ever so sweetly to bid the cashier farewell. To an outsider, she'd returned to her zen state without much effort. Terry was no outsider and kept a cautious eye on her as they loaded bags into the trunk and got settled in the front seat of her SUV. 

"You sure you're good," he asked as he backed out of their parking space. 

"I'm sure, TJ," she answered with almost too much enthusiasm. Terry started a mental countdown for the other shoe to drop. "I'll iron the shirt. You need to shave." 

--------

The final verdict? A plain white T-shirt. 

An hour of searching, choosing, rejecting, and choosing again led them to a plain, crisp white tee. Patrice said it went better with her yellow wrap dress, which she chose because her girlfriends were all in dresses, and she wanted to match the occasion. It all sounded like made-up bullshit to Terry. Still, he accepted being treated like a Ken Doll because it meant that his Barbie would agree to a two-hour hard stop at the festivities. 

He'd already started his stopwatch when they pulled up on a busy street in front of an even busier hole in the wall.

The smell of fresh grease greeted them upon crossing the threshold from outside into Mister C's Bar and Lounge. Fried fish, French fries, and wings in any flavor you could ask for sat in the service window, waiting for their delivery to any one of the patrons packed from wall to cinderblock wall. Terry inhaled deeply and let his scowl drop for one second to fantasize about a bite of Corey Sr.'s signature catfish and fries basket. 

Next came the familiar mix of sweat and weed near the dancefloor as bodies intertwined to some GloRilla song neither of them recognized. Thick traffic in the center of the room paused Patrice on her path to the pool tables, locking her between Terry and a crowd that wouldn't budge. 

"Excuse me!" she shouted over a swell of crowd reaction to a new song. "I need to get by!" 

No response. Not even a look back as she used a hand to create space between her and a group of men debating nonsense. Before she could try again, Terry used one hand to push her forward and his voice to clear the way. 

"Yo, step out of the way. We need to get through." Direct and to the point. He left no room for misinterpretation, and his baritone's boom left no confusion about who was calling the shots. Patrice watched with her lips slightly parted in awe. 

The first reaction to his demand was the embers of confrontation. Each member of the group sized Terry up, noticing his heavy scowl and size in comparison to their own. Then, they realized that this wasn't a winning game. 

The flashiest of the group nodded, though disdain at the mere suggestion that he was in the way kept his mouth in a tight frown. "Yeah, you good, OG. My fault." 

Another light push propelled Patrice forward as Terry maintained with each man until they had passed. 

Once they were out of the mix and nearing their destination, he advised, "Stay close." Patrice nodded her compliance, shocking Terry into a slight smile in appreciation for her obedience. 

Sparks of electricity shot between them but had no time to turn into a total current before Corey called out to them. 

"Treece! Terry! We over here!" 

Surrounded by familiar faces from Francis Edward's Class of 2010, Corey welcomed them with open arms and his ever-present 100-watt smile. At a slight 5'6", 150 on his best day, he'd always been larger than his frame would suggest. Loud and flamboyant had always been the name of his game, earning him anything he set his sights on.

It didn't take long for the trio and Corey's wife, June, to fall into familiar habits and friendly jabs at one another as they took their seats in a makeshift VIP section by the pool tables. The Three-Headed Monster was their moniker in high school, and they moved like a military force. Terry was the enforcer, while Corey and Patrice served as judge and prosecutor. If you had an issue with one, you had an issue with all three. 

"Your security is lax. Who trained them?" Terry pointed out during a dead spot in conversation. 

Corey followed his eyeline to the two young men standing at the door and back. "My boy at the sheriff's office. What you see?" 

"They look soft. It wouldn't take much to overpower them and get in for some drama. You only have one exit. Somebody breeches this place, and you're on the hook for a tragedy. Plus, the one on the left is scared. He'll be the first to leave if things get hot. Watch him."

"Impressive," June remarked, smiling at Patrice, who subtly playfully waved her off.

"Hm." Corey took a long pull from his cigar, taking in the information before responding." You here for a minute, T? I got some connections over at Liberty if you looking to get back in the swing of things." 

"Contract?" 

"Whatever you need, man. You know I'm good for it."

Terry looked over at Patrice for some indication that she believed in Corey, and she returned with a subtle nod and encouraging smile. June looked between them and then at her husband before clearing her throat. 

"It looks like Kel and his boy are back on the pool table. You know he still owes you a game from when he cheated last week." 

"Hell yeah," Corey agreed as he turned in his seat to get a look at his enemy. "Aye, T, you trynna make $100 real quick?" 

"It's either that or you gotta come dance with me," Patrice challenged. "This rum and pineapple got me feeling a little loose." 

She wasn't lying. A taste of alcohol in her system was starting to make her want to explore parts of the Patrice she thought she left at North Carolina A&T. Every heart-rattling thump of Megan Thee Stallion's latest and greatest had her thinking about reminding everyone in the room that she could move with the best of them. 

Her little grind in her seat made Terry show teeth in a small grin before he stood to his full height and looked down at her. His eyes were hooded and dreamy from some combination of exhaustion and a contact high, reintroducing that spark from before.

"Don't go too far. I'll be back with your money in a little bit." 

Patrice's tongue felt too heavy to respond coherently past a punch-drunk nod. June watched her watch him make his way down the platform and into the crowd until both men were out of earshot. 

She whistled and shook her head. "That's a good-looking man, ain't he?" 

"Who? Corey? He alright. He's like a slightly more attractive Taye Diggs." 

"First off, ouch," June laughed. "Second, I was talking about Terry. He was cute in high school, but I'll be damned if that second puberty didn't take him to a whole 'nother level." 

"Don't tell him that. His head is big enough."

"You know you wrong for that." If the music weren't so loud, everyone in the building would've heard the pair guffawing over Patrice's petty insult. 

Once they contained themselves, June took a sip from her margarita and shifted in her seat to get closer to Patrice.

"He likes you still." Five plain words shook Patrice internally as she struggled to maintain a poker face. June continued. "I see the way he looks for your approval and damn near trips on himself to fulfill your every whim. You're all he talks about when he and Corey get on the phone." 

"They talk?" 

"From time to time. I think he needs a man's opinion sometimes, you know?" 

Patrice wrestled with the influx of information as June continued. 

"That man is mean as a snake. Always has been and always will be. But, you bring something out of him. Even if you can't always see it." 

"If that were the case, things would've been different for us back then." 

June shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe you're right where you're supposed to be. I know I can't make you do what you don't wanna do, but if what I say means anything, focus on today. Thirty-two-year-old Terry is so much more prepared to love you than eighteen-year-old Terry was." 

Punctuating her advice, June tapped Patrice's leg twice before taking a step away to refill their tray of food. 

Focus on today.

The words replayed in her mind repeatedly; even after their two hours were up, Terry had returned $100 richer, and they were back on the road to their quiet slice of the world. 

They rode together in content quiet, letting the Quiet Storm host talk while Terry tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. 

Randomly, he would glance in her direction, assuming she had lost the sleep battle to her old friend Bacardi. When he reached over to adjust the air vent on her side of the car, he was surprised when she mumbled a low "thank you." 

"My bad. I thought you were sleeping." 

"No. My head is swimming, though. Don't let me drink that much anymore." she laughed. 

He chuckled along with her but didn't agree to keep her from letting her hair down occasionally. In his eyes, seeing her relaxed and carefree was a gift to the world. 

The opening notes of Tevin Campbell's "I'm Ready" swirled around them, sounding like a secret message to Patrice as she focused on streetlights to keep the contents of her dinner inside her stomach. 

"Hey," she whispered before she could catch herself. Terry acknowledged her with a glance. "Do you think you're still scared?" 

"Of what?" 

"Of whatever kept you away for so long?"

He thought for a moment, wanting to make sure he was clear with his word. "No. I was never afraid of you. I was afraid of bringing you along for a ride I might not survive. That's not a threat anymore. So, no, I'm not scared anymore."

You know I'm ready

To love you

Forever 

Patrice reached across the center console until she reached Terry's hand to interlock her fingers with his. He gave her an appreciative squeeze without taking his eyes off the road. 

"I-I don't think I'm scared anymore either."

Her heart raced wildly behind her ribs, and Patrice was that if Terry pressed his wrist close enough to hers, he could feel her pulse accelerate. He didn't mind either way. Sweaty palms and trembling fingers would never be enough for him to let her go. Not again. 

As if she'd break if he moved too fast, Terry brought her hand to his lips slowly. One kiss. Another. Two more. And a final one for good measure. 

When he'd had his fill of her skin, he pressed the spot up against his cheek. He needed to feel and absorb her until they were one body. 

But, for tonight at least, this was enough.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @oniccah @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse

[vaguesxrrow]

hii! i was wondering if i could request a Dean Winchester x reader with an established relationship, and i had this prompt in my head [could possibly be used as future inspo's for you fics too if you'd like :>]

basically, the relationship between them is pretty new, like only a month or two new, and reader has claustrophobia, but never told him or Sam.

and for a case, they have to go into an elevator, which is fine, and reader seems to do a good job at pretending it doesnt freak them out that they're in a convined space (elevator is pretty tiny, even for elevator standarts)

but then it suddenly stays still, and gets stuck bc of electrical issues.

so now they're stuck in an elevator for who knows how long, and reader tries their best to stay calm, but Dean knows better and now that the elevator is staying still he notices the microexpressions, the panic, the fear.

and its just super fluffy with him helping reader deal with it untill the elevator is back on track

thanks! and have a great day!

i lovee all your requests sm, especially bc they challenge me to write new things <33 i rlly like how this turned out so i hope u do to !

dean winchester / claustrophobic!reader

a/n: i have no personal experience with claustrophobia but i researched it as much as i could. however sorry if it still sounds unrealistic !

cws: panic attacks, claustrophobia

wc: 785

tags: gender neutral reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, humour

"can we even fit in there?" dean asked dubiously, clearly unimpressed at the elevator that stood before you. "i mean, this has gotta be a health hazard, man, cause what is this?" he banged the doors as he stepped inside.

"it's fine, dean, stop being dramatic." you rolled your eyes, trying to fight the wave of panic (or was that vomit?) rising up inside you.

not letting yourself think about it any further, you stepped in after dean. at first, you thought it was just your claustrophobia whispering how this elevator looked like a death trap. but then your (wonderful, by the way) boyfriend dean had pointed it out himself, and wasn't that just awesome?

you weren't irritated at him, but at the situation itself. you and dean had only been dating for a month, and definitely hadn't reached the 'divulge your deepest fears and secrets to each other' stage.

you could tell dean about your claustrophobia now, but what else was there to do? the stairs in this building had been destroyed by the vampires you knew nested on the top floor.

in conclusion, the elevator was the only way.

determined, you punched the button to the 17th floor. this was fine.

dean prattled on about the job. something about 4 vampires, killing 3 residents until the others had to evacuate...

suddenly, the elevator groaned to a stop, on the 10th floor. you hit the buttons again. god, it had been going so well.

"what happened?" you asked. the lights began to flicker. "is there a ghost here, too?"

both of you scanned the area as best as you could, having to shuffle around awkwardly to look at the whole area.

"nah," dean finally said. "probably just electrical issues."

you sighed. "it's gonna be humiliating calling sam to rescue us."

"tell me about it." dean rolled his eyes, even as he dialed his brother's number. "yeah, sammy, [name] and i got into a bit of a situation... no, dumbass, we're not dying-"

you forced a laugh at the boy's banter, even as the walls seemed to be closing in on you. breathe in and out, you chanted internally.

"-if you could just come get us..." dean glanced at you, pausing in surprise for a second. "hey, sammy, i gotta go, just get here as quick as you can, would ya?" he hung up, tucking his phone back into his pocket. you were too focused on keeping your emotions in check to notice dean had become alerted to your subtle panic, and was now giving you his full attention.

"you okay, [name]?" he asked.

you forced a teasing grin. "fine, just wishing i had some fresh air to get away from your stink."

"that's a smooth evasion if i've ever heard one, but it ain't gonna work on me, hot stuff." he wiped away a miniscule bead of sweat from your forehead. "literally."

you closed your eyes. he had clocked you - no point in keeping up the act now, even if it was embarrassing.

"can i touch you?"

you nodded. he put an arm around your shoulder, his other hand lightly grasping yours. he guided it to his chest where his heart was. "you feel my heartbeat?"

you murmured an affirmation.

"alright, it quickened a bit there, but that's the effect you have on me." he winked. "how fast is it? does it match the.. what was it, bpm, of any song?"

you shook your head at him in confusion. "what?"

"answer the question, [name]." he rolled his eyes, flushing slightly.

you furrowed your brow as you thought. "wanted dead or alive, bon jovi?"

he smirked. "awh, that's awesome. now you get to bear witness to my rendition of it."

that alone was so unexpected it startled a laugh out of you. "excuse me?"

he began swaying, jostling you in the process. "you heard me. i'm a cowboy, on a steel horse i riiide." he spun around, although it was more of an awkward twirl. "i'm wantedddd..." he held out both hands to you, tugging you close when you took them. "dead or aliiiveeee!"

you snorted loudly at his attempt to hold the last note, and yelped in surprise when the elevator lurched back into movement. dean's hug tightened, steadying you.

"i must be one hell of a singer if that was all it took to get the elevator sorted," he remarked, looking hilariously proud of himself.

"that's one way to put it." your previous panic and embarrassment had dissipated, leaving only gratitude for your boyfriend. "thanks."

he kissed you briefly. "no problem. but can you imagine the look on sammy's face when he gets here and we don't need help anymore? ha, imagine that!"

[ammoniteblue]

Not a Hero, Just an Author (p.1)

kenji sato x reader

Her latest novel a flop, Y/N is starting to worry she wasn’t meant to be an author. She’s 24, lives alone and most of her college friends are either married or in more traditional jobs. she feels like she’s being left behind. That is until a charming baseball player finds his way into her life and shows Y/N that it takes more than talent to be a star.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“-And we’re expecting light showers this afternoon with heights of 17 degrees celsius. So make sure to pack an umbrella. In other news, the Giants are about to welcome legendary Japanese baseb-“

The morning radio rambled quietly in your car, some light background music on your morning commute to work. Today you’d left too late, a delay caused by your alarm clock not going off on time, and now you were paying for it. The traffic jam was long. At this rate you were going to be late for work.

You sighed, drumming your fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. If you were even five minutes late your editor was going to kill you. this was a super important meeting, one Sana had been fighting for for months. It could make or break your career, taking you from a small time author to the real thing. An international bestseller. A book adapted into a screenplay. A movie. A show. World wide recognition. A dream come true.

You could feel that dream slipping away as the traffic in front of you crawled forwards.

There was a ding. Your phone. No doubt Sana asking about where the fuck you were. A cursory glance at your watch informed you had twenty minutes to get down town.

fuck.

Was your heart racing from the three cups of coffee you chugged this morning or the stress ?

Another ding. And then another. Oh my god.

It was wrong, perhaps even evil. something you’d never admit aloud. but a tiny part of your brain wished, just for a second, that a Kaiju would drop down from the sky and rid the streets of traffic.

A great scream tore through the air. It was unlike anything you’d ever heard before. Beyond animalistic. a noise only a monster could make. Horns began to blare ahead of you and as you strained your neck to look up you realised why.

“Be careful what you wish for…” You hissed to yourself, as a towering reptilian figure appeared ahead of you.

It was easily taller than the surrounding skyscrapers. The Kaiju resembled a lizard, a knock off version of Godzilla. It’s beady yellow eyes didn’t seem to blink and as the creature took a step the ground trembled. earthquake like ripples shook the earth, sending your cup of coffee teetering over in your car.

People had begun to panic. Pedestrians turned and ran in the opposite direction, not afraid of pushing each other out of the way. In your rear view mirror you watched as an office worker knocked an old lady over in his hurry. He didn’t bother to stop.

Now you’d never call yourself a hero. You weren’t particularly brave or even outgoing. Maybe that’s why you became an author. It was a great gig and one you got to do alone. So it came to a shock to you when you found yourself getting out of your car and rushing into the crowd.

People barrelled past you, mothers clinging to their children, workers evacuating buildings. even cats and dogs had taken to running for the hills. You did your best to push through them until you were there, standing over the old lady.

She was struggling to pick herself back up, her cane discarded to the side. Quickly, you grabbed it and with your free hand helped her up to her feet.

“Thank you my dear, you shouldn’t be putting yourself in danger.” She said her voice wobbling a little.

A quick glance down informed you that she’d been hurt. blood was trickling down her left leg. she needed medical attention.

“It’s okay, we need to find you hel-“ You began to say only to be interrupted by a thundering roar.

A ray of purple light shot only metres past you both. It hit a row of cars near you, each one vaporising into nothing but debris and ash. From where you were huddled you could feel the heat radiating off of it.

The old lady let out a scared scream and as you glanced up you realised why. The Kaiju’s snakelike eyes were trained exactly on you. You blinked as your body suddenly went numb. It was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. To be under the glare of a creature so big, so terrifying. A primal instinct in you told you to run. to leave the old lady and turn and save yourself. But you didn’t. You stayed. Whether that was out of nobility or fear you didn’t know.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Not when in mere moments you would be dead. reduced to nothing but ash on the sidewalk. No big meeting, no movie deal. You’d die a small time author no one has ever heard of. Your parents. What would they think ? their only child dead. They wouldn’t even get to say goodbye.

goodbye mum. goodbye dad. I’m sorry.

There was nothing you could do but try to shield the old woman as the Kaiju opened its mouth and roared. There was a great flash of purple and heat. heat unlike anything you’d ever felt. and then nothing.

Moments passed and you realised you weren’t dead. Neither of you were. The attack hadn’t come. But how ?

A feeble glance informed you how.

Stood only mere feet away from you, shining in silver and red was Ultraman himself. The city’s hero returned after months of absence. He was here. He was back. He saved you.

“Ultraman.” You breathed, staring in wonder up at him as he used a shield to divert the attack.

It was almost beautiful. the way the purple ray clashed with the blueish shield creating a symphony of light and colour.

The attack stopped and his shield dropped. Before the Kaiju could move, he raced forwards and tackled the beast into the ground. the impact sent tremors through the earth, one’s that almost sent you and the old lady toppling over.

“Quickly, let’s find shelter.” You slung her arm over you and used this diversion to try and drag you both to safety.

Soon after the KDF arrived, and emergency services. A paramedic saw to the old lady, Mrs Tanaka, who repeated endless apologies to you. She held your hand in hers and said:

“my dear you saved my life. i can never repay you. i am forever in your debt.”

Then as you started to cry, overwhelmed by stress and sheer relief at still being alive, she brought you into a hug. it was warm and homey. it felt like you were a kid again. like everything would be alright.

When you did finally turn up at your editors, six hours late and covered in scratches and blood, some yours and some Mrs. Tanaka’s, Sana flung herself into your arms. Your boss bitch editor, the self proclaimed Ice Queen of publishing, bawled in your arms like a homesick baby. The meeting was pushed back till you felt better and she demanded you take a few days to rest and de stress.

By the time you got home you were a shaking mess of nerves, trauma and exhaustion. if not for the blood and dirt you would’ve flung yourself on your bed and promptly passed out. But a shower was sorely needed and after the shower you realised how hungry you were. Saving an old lady’s life hadn’t left a lot of time for lunch.

There was a ramen shop below your apartment. a nice cosy spot run by a sweet old man who’d gone out of his way to actually read your book, after you’d finally told him you were an author. you’d been a regular there since you moved into your apartment a year ago. A nice warm bowl of ramen might just be the thing you needed.

In sweats and glasses you padded out of your apartment and down the stairs.

It was only nine thirty and the streets of tokyo were very much alive. People shuffled up and down the streets. groups of giggling university students, no doubt on their way to a bar or club. Oh to be young. Office workers were only just now leaving work, slumping down the streets like zombies. Their briefcases hanging limply in hand.

You shuffled into Mr Ozami’s ramen shop to be greeted with the savoury smell of veggies and meat. It was fairly quiet, a lull between the dinner crowd and night walkers. The booth in the back, your favourite spot, was free. Mr. Ozami didn’t even give you a menu, he nodded from behind the counter and went to whip up your usual.

It was nice. the pair of you exchanged barely any words but had somehow forged an unlikely friendship. right now it was just what you needed. quiet company and a warm meal.

Prompt as always, Mr. Ozami slid a bowl in front of you, popping a pair of chopsticks down. He nodded again and like that returned to his spot behind the counter. He knew you’d leave the exact amount of change for the meal after. Never a tip. you’d tried the first time you came and he’d immediately handed it back.

It was perfect. down to the last minute detail. Warm broth flowed into your stomach and slowly your nerves began to fade. an ease settled over you. tonight you’d sleep well. despite the absolutely harrowing day, you’d sleep well.

Or so you thought, until a stranger walked into the shop.

at first you didn’t notice. your whole face was almost in your bowl of ramen, too fixated on slurping noodles to realise someone else was in the shop. Maybe that’s why you were so startled to notice a guy standing by the counter, examining a menu in hand. Or maybe it was because the longer you stared the more you realised he looked familiar.

Too familiar.

And that’s when it hit you.

Tall, lean and dark haired. the man in front of you was Kenji Sato. New addition to the Giants and legendary baseball player.

Holy shit.

He looked up not giving you any time to wipe the broth off of for your face. a noodle hung limply from your mouth. for the second time today you were shocked still. The moments of eye contact were unbearable. His eyes flickered over you and you could see in his mind he was weighing you up.

Of all the days to be wearing sweats and slippers.

Thankfully he must’ve registered you as disgusting because he glanced away and back at the menu. With his eyes off you, you were free to slurp the noodle up and wipe the broth from your mouth, while trying to ignore the gentle stab in your gut.

Of course a superstar like Kenji Sato wouldn’t find you attractive. He wasn’t just a stupidly talented athlete, he was also good looking enough to be a model. in fact he did model. you’d seen the giant billboards with his face on, the flying blimps with him eating food or drinking something. not to mention in one fashion magazine there’d been this pic of him half naked with fake tattoos a-

No that was enough. stop it. today had been hard enough and you came here to relax. this person, because at the end of the day Kenji Sato was a person just like you, would not ruin that for you. You needed to sleep tonight. You needed to stay calm.

“Hey I saw you staring so i thought you might want this.” And there goes staying calm.

Kenji Sato was stood in front of your booth, looking like sin itself in his varsity jacket and sunglasses, holding out a signed baseball card to you.

For the third fucking time you froze. seriously it was becoming a problem. clearly you could only take action when it came to saving little old ladies. but anything else ?? nope not happening.

“Here then, i’ll just leave it on your table.” He half chuckled, sliding the card next to your bowl.

It wasn’t till he turned away that your brain finally started to work and your stupid mouth opened.

“O-oh uh thanks. that’s very nice of you but maybe you should save it for someone else ?” oh my god. what the hell were you saying.

Kenji paused and half turned to face you. one of his eyebrows was raised.

“It’s just,” you quickly tried to save yourself, ��i’m not the biggest baseball fan and there’s probably a fan out there who’s really like it.”

nope yep you made it worse. why were you telling like the best player in japan, maybe the whole world, that you didn’t like his sport ?? Did you hit your head today and just forget ? It had to be the exhaustion talking, it had to be.

Amazingly, Kenji didn’t balk at your words. Rather the corners of his mouth twisted into an amused smile. He considered you for a moment and maybe he would’ve said something in response, if Mr. Ozami hadn’t come over with a take out box.

“Here.” He said plainly, handing the box to Kenji.

Kenji took it with a thank you, maybe a little perplexed at Mr. Ozami’s blunt way of speaking. he had been in the states almost his whole life. They probably did things differently over there.

“So um yeah…here you go ?” you held the card out to him, trying not to blush in embarrassment at your awkwardness.

everything that had come out of your mouth since he walked in felt stupid. it was like you were a completely different person. Why were you acting like this ?

Kenji glanced between you and the card. His amused smile never faded.

“You know what,” he grinned, “keep it. might just make a baseball fan out of you yet.”

He gave you one last look and it took everything in you to not turn bright red under his gaze, before turning and walking out of the shop.

It wasn’t till many minutes later that you glanced away from the doorway where he’d disappeared through. The card in your hands was shiny, a small laminated rectangle.

There he was, bat in hand, dark eyes shining, a self assured smile on his face. at the bottom was his signature scribbled in dark ink.

you flipped it over, expecting to find nothing but a blank white space. what you saw sent your heart into a cacophony of thumps. the blush you’d been holding back spilled over. every part of you felt red and hot and horribly unnerved.

scrawled across it in lazy handwriting were the digits:

+81 3 1234-5678

Kenji Sato’s phone number…..

[dfwbwfbbwfbwf]

The Noldor needed to return to Middle Earth.

This is a long one, so I put it under a Read More thing.

I was looking into the Doom of the Noldor, and why the Valar weren't interested in going after Morgoth after he murdered a guy, and I came across the rather reasonable argument that the Valar could only defeat Morgoth after he put a great deal of his influence into Arda, kind of like a giant One Ring, which would weaken him. Which is all fine and good, I guess.

(Not sure why they couldn't just do what they did in the War of the Powers and evacuate everyone out of Beleriand before sending Tulkas in, as that would be far more responsible than what they actually ended up doing, but I digress.)

So that's it then. The Valar plan to just sit around Valinor, chilling, while Morgoth essentially runs around Beleriand with a can of gasoline and a match. And, based off what I've read, it sounds like they were really just kind of doing nothing until Eärendil and Elwing showed up to buy protection. Or it does take three years to sail from southwest Beleriand to the Bay of Eldamar. (It took Eärendil eight total, and four of them were after Elwing showed up, and it is a long journey; there's a reason the Noldor went as far north as they could in Aman before attempting to sail.)

Here's a map for reference. Credit to Karen Wynn Fonstadt. The Helcaraxë is so tiny!

Anyway, I'm going to give those who stayed in Valinor the benefit of the doubt and assume they spent 5 and a half centuries preparing for war.

(Even though the Noldor were plenty ready for it when they left, considering they annihilated Morgoth's army. Yeah, Fëanor died, but who could expect fire demons of nightmares to show up randomly?)

Sorry. I keep getting into tangents. The Valinorians prepare, get a signal from ... something, and sail across Belaegar to destroy Morgoth and save the Men, Elves, and Dwarves. Happy ever after, and the Flight of the Noldor was completely useless and pointless.

Except it wasn't.

Sure, most of that plan would've still worked as intended, except for the "save Men, Elves, and Dwarves" part. Beleriand would have been an utter wasteland by the time they got there without the Noldor's intervention. Morgoth might have conquered even more. Imagine if he got to Cuiviénen, the far south of Harad, even Hildórien.

"That's impossible, dfwbwfbbwfbwf. Even Morgoth couldn't have mustered up the strength to do that."

But is it impossible? Who would have been there to stop him?

Círdan's Falathrim were nearly exterminated, saved only due to Fëanor's intervention. Denethor died because Fëanor was too late. (By how much, it's unclear, but it happened the same Valerian Year, so maybe a few Sun Years. If Olwë had helped, and Uinen not slowed the Noldor, and Ulmo provided a way across, perhaps Denethor would have lived. But I suppose we'll never know.) Melian guarded Doriath with her Girdle, but Þingollo never sent anyone out to engage with Morgoth; he couldn't, because Doriath didn't stand a snowball's chance in Mordor. What Sindar and Nandor were trapped outside the Girdle were certainly no match for Morgoth's forces. I wouldn't be surprised if Morgoth conquered the entire continent (again, save Doriath, but Doriath is about as concerning to him as a mosquito bite) before Iþil rose for the first time. After all, it took him about 19-20 years to take over half the land, and he had about 27 to take the other half.

I don't imagine Morgoth would go after the Khazad, and I don't see the Khazad going after Morgoth. They'd close their doors to all, and Morgoth wouldn't have to worry about them.

Morgoth would still venture east and corrupt the newly awoken Men, and I think some would repent and travel west to become the Edain, but they would either remain in Middle Earth, or be destroyed and/or corrupted upon reaching Beleriand. There would be no Finrod to greet them, no Dorthonion or Brethil or Dor-Lómin for them to settle and thrive in. There would be no Beren, Dior, Elwing. There would be no Hador, Galdor, Huor, Tuor, Eärendil. No Elrond or Elros.

Morgoth would continue south and east. The Nandor and Avari would likely fall - I think the Silvans would be destroyed or subjugated first, as they probably have a smaller population. And with each civilization Morgoth conquers, he has more potential orcs.

I do think Morgoth would still develop his dragons. He's a reptile dad imo.

By the time the Valinorians arrive in this timeline, there's nothing TO save. Even if they manage to defeat Morgoth, it would take longer. More lives lost. More land sunk.

Do I think the Noldor were the only reason this didn't happen? No, but they were a very big one. Their first attack in the Dagor-nuin-Giliath decimated Morgoth's army, something that took him four and a half centuries to build up enough to fight with again. They guarded Beleriand against the northern menace. They made the continent a safe place for Elf, Man, and Dwarf to thrive, something the "King of Beleriand" couldn't accomplish, and the "King of Elves" Ingwë and "King of Arda" Manwë refused to try.

Do I think the original argument of the Valar waging a war of attrition against Morgoth makes sense? Yes. Do I think their plan would have worked? Depends how you define "worked" - they would have defeated Morgoth, but the cost would be too great. This is why Fëanáro was born: to save Beleriand. And even though he was only on the continent for a short time, he did just that. The Valar should have helped him, but they were, at best, foolish, at worst cowards.

Remember to thank a Fëanárion for your existence today.

... No one is going to read this, and if you did, you're insane. But I guess I'm insane for writing it. Have a cookie and milk. 🍪🥛

[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

hi! i want to bring your attention today to another campaign that's been hovering around the halfway mark for a while now.

Reem and Fahed Shehab (@danashehab, @malakshehab, @reemshehab, @monashehab, @yehyashehab, @dodoshehab, @fahedshehab-new, @saharshehab52) are raising money to evacuate themselves, their five children - Sahar (14), Dana (13), Mona (9), Malak (5), and baby Yehya (1.5) - and the children's grandmother, Mona, to safety.

the family lost their home and livelihood (the gym Fahed owned) in an airstrike, and have since been displaced over ten times, facing danger and extreme deprivation every step of the way. if you'd like to hear more about their situation, i encourage you to check out these videos from Sahar, in which you can have a tiny glimpse of the family's daily circumstances.

with rumors that the border may open soon, Reem and Fahed are afraid that they will not be able to gather the funds they need for the whole family to escape on short notice. with five children to look after, three of whom are under ten, being forced to choose between staying in danger or the heartrending decision to split up would be a nightmare.

as of july 31st, they are over halfway to their goal, with €27,635 out of €50,000, but the campaign has been increasing slowly, and they cannot evacuate the family with anything under €40,000 (the additional €10k is set aside for providing accommodation and daily expenses once they reach Egypt). that leaves around €13k to go until the minimum amount that will allow the Shehab family to reach a safe place. my hope is to bring that down to €10k or under within the week, and with your help, i think it can absolutely be done.

if you have the means, please donate to help the Shehab family reach safety. if that's not something you're able to do, share this post and those from Reem and Fahed's blogs, or reach out to someone in your life who has funds to spare and share their story. your contribution, no matter its scope, is helping to save the lives of eight people!

(The Shehab family's campaign has been verified by @/el-shab-hussein)

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Question for you; how do you think the rest of the war would have shaken up if Jake had actually killed Tom in #31?

I'm sure Jake's home life and ability to lead would be impacted, possibly Rachel too. And the whole end of the series would definitely be different.

Would to Yeerks even notice that Tom + his yeerk are gone? Since they pretty much sentence that yeerk to death anyway

Okay, so let's be clear: it wouldn't be Jake killing Tom. It'd be Marco. Jake spends the entire book alternately fucking up (e.g. demorphing in broad daylight 10' from Tom) and begging Tobias to tell him what to do. Marco spends the entire book actually leading the damn Animorphs. When it comes down to the wire, Jake stands there and has a (fully understandable) panic attack while Marco runs around coordinating not only Plan A to land Tom in the hospital but Plan B to kill him, and possibly Plan C to burn the house down.

So. Marco kills Tom, thereby saving Steve's life and also the planet.

• Jake falls apart. Saving Tom has been his reason for existence since the first battle, his only guiding star during the worst of the war. Not only did he lose his brother, but he tore his family apart.

• Marco falls apart. There are very few people Marco loves, but he would burn down the world for the sake of those few. And in the span of a few weeks, Marco has murdered one of those people, destroyed the life of the other. This war isn't worth it anymore. Maybe the yeerks deserve to have the planet, because there's nothing here worth saving.

• Rachel tries to keep the fight going, Tobias and Ax her only support. They've given up so much for this war already, and it'd be a disservice to every damn human on the planet to call it quits now. Every damn human includes Tom, for the record.

She held him down, a hand over his nose and mouth, knees on his chest, until Marco had forced him fully under the water. Together they leaned their weight onto his body, together they pressed him into the mud, until at last he stopped struggling. Then they left him there, floating face-down in the shallows, and staggered back to the woods to try and scrub the filthy water from their bodies.

Rachel's pretty sure Marco didn't see the tiny shape dart away from the side of Tom's head into the dark water beyond, in the half-second before he went limp. It was a fish. An eel. It was nothing at all. She saw nothing.

She dreams, often, about that nothing.

• Cassie stays on the team for now, because she won't consign all of humanity to die. But her friendship with Rachel is fraying at the seams. They snap at each other often, hang out rarely. Cassie worries about Rachel, and Rachel about Cassie, more than either one of them will say out loud.

• Tom was nobody. A dumb kid in the wrong place at the wrong time. The yeerk who died that day, on the other hand? That guy was everything, for the war.

• Tobias escapes the Community Center, and a yeerk called Sub-Visser Fifty-One inside a girl called Taylor, with seconds to spare. There was a mission to destroy the Anti-Morphing Ray, and it almost succeeded. Rachel doesn't have Marco's strategic mind, Jake's cold willingness to sacrifice a friend. She burns the building to the ground to try and destroy the prototype.

It doesn't work. In fact, it backfires — by the end of the month, Visser Three has quadrupled the budget for the devices.

The second generation is smaller than the first, more agile. So it's only two weeks before the inevitable happens.

• «Prince Jake,» Ax says, landing on his windowsill. «We must evacuate you and your family immediately. The yeerks have seen Rachel in her demorphed form, and it will not be long before they connect her to you.»

Jake sits up in bed, which seems to take an age. "They know." He probably means it as a question, but it comes out monotone.

«Yes,» Ax says. «They know. They are likely already on their way.»

"Oh." Jake turns over onto his side, curling into a ball. "Okay, then. Let them come."

«Yeah.» The gorilla shoulders open the door to Jake's closet, lumbering across the room. «We were afraid you were going to say that.» Grabbing Jake around the waist, Marco slings him over one shoulder and heads for the stairs.

• Jake, in true Jake fashion, becomes the one to explain to his parents what actually happened to Tom. Not a freak accident. Not a product of stress and bad decisions and swimming alone. Nothing to do with the empty whisky bottle Cassie thought to plant near the shore, hating herself for having thought of it.

• While the others languish in the hork-bajir valley, Rachel and Cassie take the morphing cube and travel to the San Dimas Hospital's long-term recovery ward. They travel to the San Luis Obispo School for the Blind. They travel to community centers and closed workshops, and they recruit all the help they can get.

The number of Animorphs doubles, then triples.

The number of controllers increases one hundredfold.

• Cassie broaches it just once. "Tobias," she says. He's the only one left she can trust, it seems like. "You remember what happened with Aftran? How we were able to help her, so that she didn't have to fight anymore?"

But of course it doesn't work. Tobias respects her enough to call for a vote, that's it. Rachel is flatly against. Ax is so betrayed that Cassie would even float the suggestion, he flees to the far side of the valley and won't speak to her for weeks.

"I can see where you're coming from," Marco, of all people, says to her. "But there are too many ways it could go wrong."

"I know," Cassie says miserably. "I know."

"If..." Marco looks toward where Ax went, checking he's gone. "If it comes to peace negotiations. I think we should offer. In exchange for being left alone. But until then, we can't afford to risk our biggest advantage."

"You're right," Cassie says. "And thanks for thinking about it."

Jake is technically there for this entire conversation. At one point he even lifts his head halfway, when Cassie reaches out to put a hand on his arm.

• Visser Three declares open war on Earth. The first nuclear bombs fall the following day.

• Mass evacuations of human-controllers are going on as quickly as the yeerks' ships can move. Rachel and Ax sneak on board one Pool ship transport, sabotaging its engines so that it spirals out of control while still in atmosphere.

It's a double victory: the Pool ship slams into a Blade ship on its wild wavering trajectory. All in all over 100,000 controllers die in the crash.

It's a half victory. Only Ax makes it home.

• War-Prince Asculan-Semitur-Langor declares war on Earth. Antarctica disappears in a flash, and Australia is swallowed by the sea.

• James Bly, Commander-in-Chief of the Earth Resistance, sues for peace. He surrenders the skies to the andalites, surrenders the forests to the taxxons. He surrenders 10% of the surviving human population to the Yeerk Empire.

• Quarantine, the andalites assure James. Just for now. Just to keep the yeerks contained. It's only a quarantine.

[karamostaz22]

Save my family, Shahd's family.

"Hello my friends,

I am Shahd from northern Gaza. I am 18 years old and I live here with my family of 8 members. We live in northern Gaza and suffer from famine. We are now living in a fierce war in light of the lack of the minimum necessities of life: clean food and clean water. My brothers, Abdullah, Muhammad Habiba, Hala, Janan, and Shahad, and I live with my mother and father. We face death and destruction daily, and I am looking for support to help them and provide us with a safe life.

Our days have returned to the degraded state of life of early humans, crammed like piles of flesh into tents resembling scorching ovens. From morning until night we search for the same things to survive: water, food and fire. We endure long hours in line to get a tiny amount of water, and the food consists of old canned goods of poor quality. We sleep and wake up to the sounds of brutal planes, unsure of where they will strike next or who among us will be reduced to scattered remains. Here in Gaza, we live the worst life known to humanity since its beginning. You are our only hope of escaping Gaza and its oppression. Please help me and my family find a safe place to live.

I decided to create a campaign on GoFundMe to collect donations to provide the necessary assistance to my family and to evacuate us from the war environment in Gaza and travel to a place of safety.

With the simplest donation, you can save me and my family and bring us to safety

Share the goodness and be a reason to save our lives

I am asking all of you to contribute what you can, even if it is a small amount. There is no small donation, every drop of water means a lot to me and my children who are trapped in these difficult circumstances.

Please participate in the campaign and share it with your friends and family. Together, we can change the lives of these children and bring them better opportunities in the future.

D

Thank you for your support and solidarity in these difficult times. It would mean a lot to me to have you be part of this campaign and help me restore hope and happiness to my family.

@90-ghost @el-shab-hussein @sayruq @nabulsi @neptunerings @flower-tea-fairies @appsa @a-shade-of-blue @sar-soor @moayesh @commissions4aid-international @paper-mario-wiki @dlxxv-vetted-donations @gaza-evacuation-funds @writerqueenofjewels @the-ballerina-battle @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @just-browsing1222 @girlinafairytale @khanger @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @maoistyuri @dykesbat @acepumpkinpatrick @thetownwecallhome @tsaricides @feluka @brutaliakhoa @kordeliiius @queerstudiesnatural @the-bastard-king @aria-ashryver @malcriada @vakarians-babe @bat-luun @mangocheesecakes @violetlyra @nightowlssleep @self-hating-zionist @staretes @friendshapedplant @yokohama-crackhouse @omiteo777

[whatthetumblfck]

I Was Born Ready

Summary: You're kidnapped on a mission gone wrong and it only gets worse. You eventually escape, but will Bucky and the team see you the same way?

Word Count: 6517

Warnings: swearing, some injuries, angst, whump

Content: Bucky x reader, Y/N, Avengers, whump, kidnapping. All of my fics are self-indulgent.

Please don't claim my work as your own, but feel free to reblog.

You wiped the sweat from your brow.  As far as you could tell, it had been 5, maybe 6, days since you were taken. You knew what HYDRA were doing. They were trying to break you. You adjusted your legs and shifted your weight in the dark, cramped space.  For the last several hours, you had been locked in some sort of box, just big enough to crouch or sit with crossed legs. It was hot as hell and you’d been sweating profusely, wondering how much longer you would last before passing out from dehydration or dying from heat stroke. But you tried not to worry about it. They will come for you soon. He will come for you. You just need to hang on a little while longer.

               A few more hours had passed, and the heat was suffocating. What little strength you had left was dwindling. You rested your head against the wall of the enclosure and closed your eyes, fighting the nauseating dizziness that threatened to overcome you.  The rattling of chains caught your attention. It seemed like the sound was getting closer. It was then you realized you had drifted- asleep? Unconscious? You weren’t sure, but you fought like hell to focus your attention on what was happening right outside your tiny prison. Suddenly, there was a sharp creak of metal and cool light flooded the box. You squinted your eyes, desperate to see what was going on.

“Get up!” a harsh voice demanded.

Your body shook as you tried to stand, but it was no use. You were too weak and dehydrated.

“GET UP!” they shouted angrily, as if that would provide the strength needed to undo the last several hours of torture.

Instead, your body gave up completely and you slumped inside the box. The next thing you registered was the sensation of a cool breeze on your face and the tops of your feet scraping along concrete as they dragged you by your arms back to your cell.

ONE WEEK EARLIER

“The fuck you mean it’s abandoned?” you whispered.

“I mean, I’m not picking up any heat signatures inside the building,” Sam clarified, adjusting Redwing’s controls just to be sure.

Bucky lowered his chin, smiling to himself. He knew you were always looking forward to a fight.

“All right, until we clear it, we’re going to proceed with caution,” Steve began, “Y/N and Bucky, you’re going to enter the south side of the building. Sam and I will cover the north entrance. Position Redwing on the east to detect movement from the access road. Once it’s clear, we set the charges and evacuate.”

You stole a sideways glance at Bucky and tried to hide your excited smile. You loved working with Bucky; you consider him to be your best friend. You felt like there might even be more there too. But you never pushed him. If being friends was all he wanted, then you would be happy with that.  Bucky was mostly quiet and reserved, but sometimes he would open up to you, tell you about his life before the war. Sometimes, but very rarely, he would reveal the horrors HYDRA inflicted upon him. You couldn’t respond; only listen in sickened contempt. Your hatred for them became personal because of what they put him through, but you also began to piece together how they operate, their torture methods, and their twisted thought processes. You filed away this information little by little, to use against them and one day, take them down. It became your personal mission, why you were so eager to take on HYDRA related missions, and so disappointed when they turned out to be flops.

Your thoughts were interrupted by an elbow gently nudging your arm. “You ready?” Bucky said as your eyes met his.

“I was born ready,” you replied, smugly.

Bucky smiled at your enthusiasm, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was tired of fighting, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to watch HYDRA burn to the ground. Having you fight beside him, though, was a double-edged sword. He enjoyed your company more than he let on, but he also worried for your safety.  He always asked Steve to pair you two together as much as possible on missions (so he could keep an eye on you), and he always received a knowing look in return. You were one of the best fighters Bucky had ever seen, but you could also be impulsive. Most of the time, you managed to compensate for this flaw and come out on top in the fight, but there have been quite a few close calls. Too close for Bucky’s comfort, even if you insisted you had everything under control.

“After you then,” Bucky said, gesturing to the south entrance.

“Such a gentleman,” you flirted, even though your tone was a bit condescending. You didn’t miss the fact that Bucky liked to keep an eye on you. It was obvious, the way he stuck by your side for every mission. It was sweet, but completely unnecessary.

Entering the building was uneventful. As you looked around, you took note of all the dust and debris, the result of what must have been years of no use. Maybe Sam was right, it must be abandoned. What a waste of time. You continued your sweep, clearing each derelict room.

“Second and third floors are clear,” Sam’s voice sounded in your comm.

“Well, aren’t you an over-achiever?” you responded mockingly.

“Y/N, Buck. What’s your status?” Steve asked, attempting to maintain professionalism on the mission. Captain Steve didn’t know how to have fun. Killjoy.

“First floor is clear, heading to the basement now,” Bucky reported, shooting you a ‘behave yourself’ look. You stuck your tongue out at him and ran for the stairwell.

“Y/N, wait!”

“Come on! There’s nothing here. Let’s clear this moldy-ass basement so we can blow it up and get home. I’m starving!” you announced.

Bucky caught up with you and roughly grabbed your elbow to pull you back.

“We need to be careful. This is HYDRA we’re dealing with. You need to take this seriously.”

You ripped your arm from his grasp, offended he would be so rough with you. “This isn’t HYDRA. This isn’t anything. There’s literally nothing here.”

Bucky schooled his expression. He didn’t want to be angry with you, but your recklessness could put everyone in danger. He let out a frustrated sigh, putting his hands on your shoulders and lowering his head to look into your eyes.

“Will you please be more careful? For me?”

You were momentarily stunned by the soft cadence of his voice. But quickly regathered your thoughts.

“Bucky, I am being careful. You need to lighten up.” You shrugged out of his grasp and turned back to the stairwell.

What is with everyone today? The super-soldiers are being super-serious. Even Sam seems like a stick in the mud, definitely not his usual, talkative self. Did you do something to offend them? You thought about the events of the last few days and couldn’t think of anything out of the ordinary. Definitely nothing that would explain what everyone’s problem is.

You glanced over your shoulder to see Bucky a few paces behind you as you descended the last of the stairs and reached the basement.

“Well, I didn’t think it was possible, but this looks even more abandoned than the first floor,” you said giving Bucky a pointed look.

“Just keep your eyes open for anything suspicious.” Bucky gently brushed past you to take the lead, advancing down the corridor. He had an uneasy feeling he just couldn’t shake.

“Suspicious?” you remarked sarcastically. “This whole mission is suspicious. What are we fighting here? The cobwebs? The ridiculous amount of dust?” You pushed past Bucky to take the lead again, but when you glanced back, you realized he had stopped. He was looking at you with wide eyes; his expression, one you didn’t recognize.  

“What? What is it?” you asked, concern growing in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re right. Nothing about this is right. There’s too much dust. Our source indicated there was activity here less than a year ago. It shouldn’t look like this.”

You looked around nervously. “Maybe the source was wrong.”

“Not likely…”

Unexpected static in the comms made you jump. You could hear Steve’s voice, but it kept breaking up and you couldn’t understand what he was saying until you made something out very clearly that made your blood run cold.

Pull back……’s a trap…--t out…ABORT!

Your eyes locked with Bucky’s. You froze. He was standing about 10 feet from you when you both registered a rapid clicking noise, like a sped-up clock.

“RUN!!” You heard him yell just before the explosion.

The wall behind you erupted, sending you several yards through the air until you collided with the ground. You could feel the heat and unbearable pressure on your back as you lay prone in the ruins. Dust swirled around you. After several moments of trying to remember how to breathe again and process what the hell had just happened, you remembered that Bucky was with you. You glanced over in his direction, but all you could see was a literal wall of rubble, fire, and smoke. You struggled to focus your eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the tears that were forming. Damn, that hurt.

Distantly, you could hear someone calling your name.

“Buck--,” your voice was cut off by a coughing fit as the dust invaded your lungs. “Bucky…” you tried again.

“Y/N?” he sounded closer. You could hear movement, crumbling concrete. “Are you hurt?”

It was at this point, you realized you should probably take a moment to figure out the damage.

“Y/N??” his voice sounded more concerned, more urgent. You weren’t sure how long you had taken to respond.

“Uhh…I….I think I’m okay……I can’t move. I think…ahh…there’s something on my back,” you choked out.

“You’re gonna be okay. We’re coming to get you. Just..hang on, okay? Hang on.”

Hearing this made you relax. Getting blown up was exhausting. You were certain you were going to hear about this later. About how you should have listened to Bucky, been more careful, taken the mission more seriously. You closed your eyes, trying to reserve your strength. You would need it to climb out of this burning hole in the ground.

After a few minutes, you felt the pressure on your back lessen. That was fast. You opened your eyes and tried to focus on Bucky’s face, but then you heard his voice from behind the burning wall of concrete. Confused, you concentrated your attention on the blurry figure standing before you. HYDRA. You gathered all your strength, trying to fight, but you couldn’t get a single hit in before a blow to your face rendered you unconscious.

Bucky heard footsteps and scraping rocks on the other side of the barrier. He had finally managed to make a dent in the rubble just large enough to see through. To see you being dragged away by HYDRA.

“NOOOO!” Bucky frantically slammed his metal fist into the rubble, trying to break through, but it was no use. He couldn’t get to you in time. He watched as you disappeared into the dust and smoke.

You were freezing. Another week had passed, maybe two. You weren’t sure. It was the same thing. Over and over.  Freezing to the point you couldn’t move or think. Then they would throw you in the box again until you passed out from the heat. You didn’t even know what they wanted. They didn’t ask you anything, barely said three words to you. Wouldn’t answer any of your questions. How the hell did they expect to get information out of you if they didn’t fucking ask you anything? Idiots. You’d be glad to give them as much false information as you could muster.

You were frustrated. Frustrated with this pointless torture and frustrated that no one had broken you out of this shithole yet. What was taking so long?

The next day was new. This time a man in a lab coat came into your cell. Based on the history of everything you have come to know about HYDRA, the lab coat is not a good sign.  He peered down at you where you sat against the cold, concrete wall.

“She’s ready,” he practically drooled with excitement. Disgusting.

Two oversized goons entered your cell and brought you to your feet as another ganglier looking goon wheeled in a stretcher. Your stomach dropped. Not good. This is not good. You tried not to let anxiety and fear get the best of you. You’ve endured the heat, the cold, the physical pain and the repulsive goop they fed you, but this was new, and you had no idea what they had planned.

“No. No no no. What are you doing?” You kicked and fought weakly as they strapped you down. You were unable to move.

Lab coat leaned in close to your face. You could smell the wicked stench rolling out of his mouth.

He simply answered, “Phase two.”

……..

“What do you want? You’ve been torturing me for weeks and haven’t asked me a damn thing! Do you even know how this works? No? Must have missed that day in torture 101.”

The lab coat stopped what he was doing and turned to face you. Amusement and almost pity plastered on his face.

“My dear. I haven’t been torturing you. I’ve been preparing you.”

…………

The first injection must have been a sedative and, for that, you were thankful. Your vision became blurry and all your muscles relaxed at once. You could’ve almost fallen asleep. Until the second injection. At first, it was cold, like ice running through your veins. Starting in your arm and flowing through your chest before settling in the rest of your limbs. It was enough to make you shiver and shake uncontrollably. With the last injection came the unbearable heat. It spread through you like wildfire, burning through the sedative and blistering your nerves. It coursed through your body, the agonizing flames filling your skull, threatening to split it open. It was too much. Unbearable. You thrashed your arms and legs beneath the restraints, screaming until you went hoarse. Nothing you did relieved the pain, the burning.  You were left alone in your misery, knowing nothing but the searing pain in your head, threatening to end your life. You hoped it would.

Then, it stopped. You thought maybe death had finally taken you and you felt sadness, for Bucky. For the team. But you were back in your cell. This couldn’t be death. Death isn’t this cruel.

You rolled on your side and slowly sat upright, fighting off the dizziness. You felt horrible, like you should be dead, but at least the pain had subsided. You experimentally staggered to the door of your cell and peered through the slot. It was eerily silent. Still, you waited to see if anyone approached. They almost always did when you awoke to send you for another round of torture…or wait. What did he say? They were preparing you..for what? The injections, ice and fire, the pain, all came flooding back to you. What did they do? Your breaths came faster. You had to get out of there. Fear and panic were in control now. You pushed and pulled at the door feverishly, and to your surprise, the door opened. Worried this was another trap, you stepped back, but no one came. What the fuck?

You left your cell and made your way down the hallway, searching for the exit or at the very least, a weapon. The building was completely cleaned out. They left you there, their experiment. Did they think you were dead? Or just a failure? You didn’t feel any different. Those HYDRA morons must have been bigger fucking idiots than you gave them credit for. Still, you weren’t going to stick around. When you finally made it out of the building, you realized you actually recognized the area. You weren’t that far from the compound. It made you sick to think you were only 10 or so miles from home this whole time, and still, they couldn’t find you. HYDRA could have practically walked up and rang the front doorbell, and the team would have had no idea.

It was cold outside and you were dressed only in a thin gown. You walked for hours, determined to make it home. You had no way of contacting anyone. You were surrounded by a few trees and fields of nothing. The final yards leading up to the compound were grueling. You were exhausted. Your feet bled and your legs shook with the effort.

It was early evening, you guessed, when you painfully stumbled into the common room, where Steve, Bucky and Sam all sat, attention focused on various maps and blueprints laid out before them. Steve saw you first, eyes staring and mouth hanging open. It would have been humorous had you not just been through hell and back. Bucky stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Steve’s expression and turned his head to see what Steve was staring at.

“Y/N??” Bucky couldn’t believe it. His eyes ran over your battered form, watching your whole body shake with fatigue.

You didn’t know what to say. You tried to choke back the tears that were now streaming down your face.

But this was all you could handle. You were suddenly dizzy, the room had started to spin and you dropped to your knees as Bucky ran towards you.

“Oh God! Call Dr. Cho!” Bucky ordered, but Sam was already on it.

You collapsed into Bucky’s arms and saw Steve running toward you. Bucky’s alarmed face was the last thing you saw before your eyes involuntarily closed.

When you awoke the next day, you were alone in the med bay. You sat up and rubbed your eyes, trying to force out the lingering headache. You swung your legs over the side of the bed and were about to remove your IV when Bucky walked into your room.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he said as he approached you cautiously. “How are you feeling?”

“Um..really..hungover,” you cracked a smile trying to break the tension. “How long was I out?”

Bucky looked at his watch before responding, “About 23 hours.”

“Oh shit. New record.”

Bucky looked nervous. “We looked everywhere..”

“Not everywhere,” you retorted, sounding more bitter than you intended.

“I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”

“Well…that makes two of us.” Your eyes stayed trained on the floor. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. You spent weeks dreaming about seeing him again, and now you couldn’t even look at him. Why? Were you that angry that they couldn’t find you? They were obviously looking.

Bucky sensed that maybe this wasn’t the best time to broach the subject, so he changed it.

“So..uh…they want to do a debriefing on what happened as soon as you’re feeling well enough.”

You faltered. You didn’t want to talk about it, relive it. Especially so soon. But you’d rather get it over with so you can move on with your life. Put the whole ordeal behind you.

You looked down at the IV in your arm before ripping it out, the blood beginning to trickle down to your palm.

“Doll—what are you doing?” Bucky lunged toward you, grabbing gauze off the bedside table to apply pressure to the site.

You grabbed the gauze and took over applying pressure.

“I’m about to change my clothes,” you began glancing around the room before finding some in a bag below the bed, “so unless you want to see me naked, you can turn around.”

Bucky paused, mouth opening slightly before regaining his composure and turning to face away from you. You caught him off guard, which is honestly, something you’ve never seen happen.

You were a little disappointed. Maybe you’d been reading him wrong, and he doesn’t see you that way. Or maybe he’s just being a gentleman. This isn’t exactly the best time to explore your feelings for one another. Still, it stung.

………………………..

You sat at the table, nervously glancing at all the faces in the room. Fury, Tony, Steve, and Sam all had their eyes on you. Everyone except Bucky. He stood in the corner, holding his gaze to the floor.  He looked more nervous than you felt. Weird.

They asked their usual questions, and you answered as best you could. But you didn’t feel comfortable enough to go into extensive detail. You trusted these men with your life, but it was starting to feel less like a debriefing and more like an interrogation.

“…and you’re sure that’s all you remember?” Fury asked again.

You looked around the room again, each set of eyes seeming frustrated. Expecting more information than what you’ve provided for the last 2 hours. This was exhausting. A familiar headache was building behind your eyes, and you were beyond done with this.

When you didn’t answer right away, Tony asked another question. “They just let you walk away?” You could hear the blatant skepticism.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Tears were starting to fill your eyes. Damnit! This is not how you thought this would go, but you were feeling pressured, overwhelmed. “They tortured me! For weeks! The same damn thing. Over and over and over again! And I don’t know---maybe they thought I was DEAD!” You choked on a sob; tears streaming down your face now.

“Okay! That’s enough!” Bucky interjected, seemingly ending the questioning.

You quickly stood from your seat and rushed out of the room.

They all exchanged glances and Bucky lingered there silently for a moment before following you.

When he reached your room in the compound, he knocked, but you didn’t answer.

“Doll. It’s me. Can I come in?”

Again, you didn’t answer. He could hear your quiet cries. He tried the handle, but you had locked the door.

“Can you unlock the door, please?”

“Go away, Bucky,” you said, softly. You didn’t need to yell. You knew he could hear you.

“Come on. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” With that, he could hear you moving towards the door.

You angrily flung the door open, surprising Bucky and forcing him to take a step back. Your hair was disheveled, eyes red and still wet with tears.

“Do I look fucking okay to you!?!?” Bucky looked into your eyes, not knowing what to say.

“HYDRA imprisoned me, practically in our own fucking backyard and still no one came for me!”

“Y/N, I swear to you, we never stopped looking—”

“And as soon as I fight my way back here, you all grill me for information, like it was my fucking idea to get captured?”

“Doll, no one thinks this was—”

“I waited for—aagh—” the pain in your head suddenly flared. You squeezed your eyes shut and pinched the skin between them. Your discomfort was evident.

“Hey, hey. What is it? What’s wrong?” Bucky’s worried eyes searched your face for answers.

You tried to recover, to push the pain aside.

“I waited for you—AAGH” the pain peaked. The same blistering heat threatening to end you, keeled you over.

With your shaking hands on your knees, you could feel Bucky move to your side. His arms wrapped around your waist to support you.

“Doll, what’s going on? Answer me. Please!”

But you couldn’t answer him. You were back on that stretcher. A prisoner, again. All you knew was the burning pain. Maybe this time, it would spare you the torment and claim your life.

“SOMEBODY HELP! I NEED HELP!” Bucky’s voice sounded far away.

The fire swirled in your skull and bile burned the back of your throat. You lurched forward, fell to your knees, and vomited on the floor. Everything was suddenly black, then nothing.

You awoke once more, alone, in the med bay.  Well, not completely alone. You could hear talking, whispers. Just outside your door.

There’s something she’s not telling me. But I’m not going to try to force answers out of her. She’ll come to me when she’s ready. I’m just going to be her friend. That’s what she really needs right now.

Just a friend? You felt the blanket of disappointment weigh on you again. You were pulled from your thoughts when Bucky opened the door.

You kept your eyes on him as he carefully entered the room.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Huh?”

“Who were you talking to just now?” You tried not to sound like you were accusing him, but you didn’t like being talked about behind your back.

“I wasn’t talking to anyone,” Bucky shook his head, seeming to be genuinely confused.

Great. Now Bucky was lying to you. Some friend he’s trying to be. Even with him literally by your side, you were suddenly feeling very alone. No one trusted you. They think you’re hiding something. Truth be told, you are hiding something. You never told them about the injections, how the torture was actually “preparations”. You even left out the creepy lab guy coat because you were afraid. Afraid if they found out what really happened, that you were an experiment, they wouldn’t look at you the same way. You were afraid you would lose their hard-earned respect, your place on the team. You couldn’t risk it.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“The pain? Passing out?” Bucky pressed, becoming serious. This felt like an interrogation again.

“Oh…it was just a headache,” you offered. Were you honestly expecting them not to ask?

“That’s bullshit. What happened to you? What did they do?” He seemed desperate and angry and you were becoming more and more guarded.

“I thought you weren’t going to force answers out of me.” You threw his words back in his face.

“What?”

“Nothing”

“What did you say just now?”

You were out of patience and just wanted to be alone. “Nothing. Please leave.”

Bucky stared at you, disbelieving, before turning his back on you and walking out the door.

A single tear slipped down your cheek. What the hell happened? Everything was fine. You were on a mission, business as usual, and then you were captured and tortured. You miraculously make it back home and suddenly, everyone is against you? You didn’t do anything wrong. Why is everyone acting like you’re at fault?  Your thoughts are becoming louder in your head, circling frantically and building tension. You clench your teeth, trying to hold in a scream, but you can feel an energy building inside you. You pull your knees to your chest, struggling to contain it. Your clenched fists pound at your temples. You don’t know what’s happening; you feel out of control, about to spill over. Explode.

Suddenly, you lose control, letting out an ear-piercing scream, releasing a force you had never felt before. All at once, glass bottles and cabinets shatter, the reinforced windows in your room crack. Furniture is thrown chaotically. Everything is broken, in a frightening disarray, and you’re left sitting in the ruins of what once felt like a safe place.

You tried to catch your breath, eyes darting around the room, attempting to make sense of what just happened.

Oh, God. Oh, God.  What did HYDRA do to you? What have you done? You needed to get out of there. Now. You jump to your feet, grab your clothes, and run. You shove past S.H.I.E.L.D. employees in the hallways, their thoughts intruding and overlapping with your own.  It took you a moment to realize what it was, what you were doing: unintentionally hearing their thoughts. You have to get away, get out. It’s too loud. You’re still running when you hear more familiar voices, but these aren’t in your head.

You can hear Bucky, Steve and Sam talking about what they found at the base where you were kept. Empty syringes. Medical equipment. Partially encrypted files describing some kind of experiment. They know—how could they not? Have they known this whole time?

“I don’t know what they did to her. She won’t tell me, but…she’s different.” Bucky spoke quietly.

Different? Is that how he saw you now? Is that why he’d been acting so strangely since you got back?

“Look man,” Sam reasoned, “she’s been through a lot. It would be weird if she wasn’t acting differently.”

“Still, if they did do whatever this experiment is on her, we don’t know what the outcome is…If she’s still herself, or even on our side,” Steve added.

Your heart dropped. You already felt like they didn’t trust you, which was bad enough, but now they’re against you? You waited for Bucky to defend you. He knows you better than anyone, but his silence spoke volumes. You thought Bucky, of all people, would understand what you’d been through. That you would never turn on them. You really were all alone in this. You felt the fear and uncertainty pouring out of the room.

Then, an unfamiliar voice on the intercom startled you.

Code Gray- Med Room 4. Code Gray- Med Room 4.

Shit. That was your room. Then the alarm started blaring and you ran. When did you become the enemy? How did this happen? You’re not part of HYDRA. You’re the victim. You managed to get out of the compound without anyone else seeing you. But you had no idea where to go from there.

Bucky, Steve, and Sam rushed to your med room. They stood there in disbelief, taking in the scene. It looks like a bomb went off.

“What the hell happened?” Sam asked.

“We’re not sure, sir. We, uh, heard a scream and when we got here, the room was empty,” a nurse answered.

“Where is she?” Bucky asked, growing impatient.

“We don’t know, I’m sorry,” the nurse responded before quicky leaving the room.

Steve and Sam exchanged looks. Bucky ran his fingers through his hair.

“Buck….”

“No.”

“We need to consider all the facts, here.”

“No, Steve! She wouldn’t do this. She’s not HYDRA.”

“Dude, she was missing for weeks and then just waltzed through the front door? That doesn’t seem odd to you?” Sam added.

“She didn’t waltz, Sam. She could barely walk, then she collapsed,” Bucky defended.

“So you think they just let her go? When the hell has HYDRA ever just let anybody go?”

“I don’t know.”

“Her story isn’t adding up, Buck.”

“They did something to her, she’s different. I just don’t know why she’d hiding it.”

“What do you mean? What aren’t you telling us?” Steve questioned.

“I think….whatever they did to her, worked. I thought it was a coincidence, at first, but then…this,” he motioned around the room. “I think she could hear what I was thinking earlier, and I think this is part of whatever she’s going through. I think she’s enhanced.”

They all looked around the room, letting Bucky’s theory sink it.

Steve broke the silence. “We need to find her before she hurts someone.”

You were walking against the cold wind and found yourself back at the shithole. You weren’t sure what you were doing there. Looking for answers, maybe? Waiting for them to find you? Like they were supposed to do. Before the injections, before they turned on you, before you lost control. What did they think of you now? You’re certain they must think you’re HYDRA. Fear and despair surged through you, and you started to lose control again. Objects that surrounded you started to rattle and lift into the air, crashing into walls.

You saw movement from the corner of your eye, emotions flaring even further. They had found you. Tears streamed down your cheeks, wetting the front of your sweatshirt.  You had already lost everything. They may as well take you now and put you in whatever floating prison they have. They marked you as guilty the moment you walked back into the compound.

“Y/N? Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Bucky approached you slowly, motioning to Steve and Sam to hang back.

You slowly turned to face him. Finally seeing his face broke you, and you started to cry harder. The cot beside you rattled along with desks and shelves, lifting off the floor, quaking violently, erratically. Bucky held up his hands, gesturing to you that he meant you no harm. And you wanted nothing more than to believe him, to melt into his arms.

As your emotions ran wild with fear and anguish, the chaos around you swelled. You shook your head trying to empty it of the intrusive whispers. You were ready to surrender. You just wanted all this to be over, but when you looked past Bucky to see Steve and Sam in their full Avenger gear, a realization hit you. They were here to fight you. Bucky noticed the change in your demeanor. You felt the energy inside you intensifying again. The building began to tremble.

“Y/N. Y/N! Look at me! You’re going to be okay. We’re here to take you home.” Bucky tried to reason.

“No. NO! You’re here to hurt me. You don’t trust me, think I’m HYDRA!”

“That’s not true. We’re your friends. We want to help you,” Bucky insisted.

“Help me? That’s why you brought Captain America and Falcon with you?!”

You were angry now. If they wanted to take you, it would have to be by force. That’s what they wanted. You looked back over at Bucky and noticed the light reflecting off the tears that gathered in his eyes. You felt like you were about to detonate.

“Sweetheart, please,” Bucky pleaded with you; His hand stretched out towards you, beckoning you to take it.

The building shook even more violently with the release of your emotions. Once again, objects cracked and shattered all around you, but this time, the entire building threatened to come down on top of all of you.

“I can’t. I can’t control it….” You looked to Bucky, desperate for all this to end.

As dust and debris rained from the ceiling, you heard the order.

TAKE HER! NOW!

You whipped your head to the side, catching sight of Redwing; you hadn’t noticed it there before, but it was too late. Two darts struck your neck, delivering a powerful sedative. You swayed on your feet for only a moment before going down hard. All the objects flying around the room, uncontrollably, crashed to the ground at once. The building stood still once again. Whatever they hit you with was strong. You couldn’t move, but yet, you weren’t completely unconscious.  You could faintly hear distorted commotion around you and your eyes felt heavy.

“Jesus Christ, Steve!” Bucky kneeled at your side to brush your hair from your face, wiping your tears in the process.

“I’m sorry, Buck. We had to. You heard her. She couldn’t control it.”

Bucky gently picked you up and held you close to his chest. You could tell he was walking, but your vision was starting to blur even more. Then you felt his breath on your ear as he whispered that you would be okay. You were safe now. They were going to fix this. You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into the darkness.

THREE WEEKS LATER

“I don’t want to be a prisoner anymore, Bucky.”

“You’re not a prisoner.”

“Well, I can’t leave. That is the definition of prisoner, right?”

“Bruce thinks he’s close to a cure. He just needs a little more time.”

“You’ve been saying that for 3 weeks.”

Bucky offered you a half-hearted smile, but it was tainted with regret.

You were beginning to doubt their ability to fix you. Where would they even begin? You were just the result of another fucked-up half-assed HYDRA experiment.  They couldn’t cure you any more than they could cure Bucky or Steve of being super-soldiers. You know it. They know it. You just wish they’d stop blowing smoke up your ass.

Just then, Bruce appeared behind the reinforced glass doors, pressing his palm to the scanner to gain access to your room.

He approached your bed with the same half-hearted smile Bucky imparted.

“Hello, Y/N. How are you feeling today?” Bruce began, like he always did when starting his examinations.

“Fine. Normal. How’s the cure coming along?”

He hesitated for a moment, ignoring your question before continuing with his own.

“Any more headaches?”

“No. Not really.”

“Good, good. That’s good.” More hesitation.

“Just spit it out, Bruce.”

“Well, uh..” he fiddled with his clipboard, pretending to review his findings. “We did some genetic profiling and it looks like the experiment has altered your DNA in ways we’ve never seen before. Your brain scans are phenomenal.”

“That’s not exactly comforting….” You knew where this was going, even though you didn’t completely understand the science of it all.

“What does that mean?” Bucky leaned forward in his seat, prompting Dr. Banner to elaborate.

“Well, I’m afraid it means we can’t cure you.”

Bucky leaned back in his chair; the atmosphere in the room deflated. He didn’t even look at you. You knew this was coming but hearing it out loud and seeing Bucky’s dejected reaction only solidified your fears. There is no hope.

Dr. Banner continued, “The good news is that you seem to be adapting and stabilizing well.”

“Yeah, yeah…” You didn’t want to hear anything else. You weren’t even listening. All you can think about is how you’re no longer an Avenger and how Bucky won’t even look at you now. You lost him; your best friend, maybe more. Where do you go from here?

“I just have a few more questions for you,” Dr. Banner began again, “Are you still able to hear the thoughts of others?”

“Yes. But I can mostly block it out. It’s gotten easier.”

Dr. Banner smiled. “And there haven’t been any more incidents….” He held up his pen. “Can you move this towards you, please?”

You looked up from your lap and focused on the pen, gently floating it above the bed until it reached your grasp.

“Amazing…”

You wished Dr. Banner would be a little less enthusiastic. Your life, as you know it, is over and you’re not in the mood for this.

“Okay. I’m releasing you from my care.”

“Wait. What? When?” You stared at him in awe. Is he joking?

“Right now.” He gathered his notes and left the room, door unlocked.

You felt Bucky grasp your hand. His smile was bright as he waited for your thoughts to catch up.

“Come on. We have a mission,” he coaxed.

“I-I don’t understand,” you hesitated. “I didn’t think you wanted---I didn’t think anyone trusted me.”

“Sweetheart, we do trust you…and I’ll always want you. No matter what.” He squeezed your hand a little tighter. “We found the shitbags that took you…you ready to kick some ass?”

Your eyes lit up with excitement and determination. “I was born ready.”

[misteria247]

Okay but Cosmo and Wanda freaking out if something happens to Timmy.

Like there's a disaster in Fairy World, I'm talking chaos and devastation type of deal. Cosmo and Wanda are trying to evacuate with their kids. Cosmo's got Peri in his arms, and Wanda's gripped Timmy's hand hard as they try to get away safely. Timmy's trying to keep his cool, to not make Peri panic, but one look at him, Wanda and Cosmo can see just how freaked out he is. He's ten after all and being surrounded by fairies who are screaming and panicking isn't great on the nerves. They struggle against the waves of fairies, when it happens.

Wanda's pushed in one direction and Timmy's suddenly caught in another direction. And to her horror she feels her eldest son's hand slip from hers. She hears his voice, panicked-

"MOM, DAD!"

And it's cracking from the sudden childish fear Timmy feels before he's suddenly gone. Swept away with the bodies of thousands of fairies, disappearing where not even his pink hat can be seen. Cosmo's head snaps around at the panicked cry only to witness his son disappearing from view. He hears Wanda's horrified scream, his own joining hers as they shout-

"TIMMY-!!"

Peri's immediately whimpering in his father's arms, realizing that somethings gone horribly wrong. Especially when he can't see his big brother. But before the family can do anything to try to reach Timmy and find him, they're dragged by the mob. Further and further away from Timmy. At this point Wanda and Cosmo are losing their cool, parental fear and panic consuming them. They fight against the swarming bodies, unable to break through. Screaming and snarling at the fairies around them to let them through because their son's back there. Scared and alone and magicless cuz he's human and not a fairy. However it's in vain.

Hours pass, the panic and evacuation having been done and over with. There's groups of fairies who are huddled together. Crying and calling of different names are heard, and with them are Cosmo and Wanda's. From the moment they'd broken free and had Peri someplace safe with their family, they'd been searching for Timmy. Refusing to stop, praying with every fiber of their being that he was somewhere with a random group of fairies. Hoping that no one would be cruel to leave a child alone in the ocean of unfamiliar faces. And yet, with every hour, they are unable to find him. With each new disappointment, they're filled with despair. Where was their son? Where was Timmy? It seems all hope is lost, until

"MOM-!! DAD-!!!"

A voice, loud and raspy from earlier shouting and oh so achingly familiar calls out. Wanda's the first one to spot him. Looking small, scared, but relieved and roughed up. Alive and breathing in the arms of none other than Jorgen was Timmy. Cosmo let's out a choked sound, and Wanda's immediately in tears, and Timmy squirms tiredly out of Jorgen's arms, and they're making a beeline for the other. Wanda and Cosmo are greeted by a tiny body colliding into their arms as they collide into Timmy. The trio are immediately in tears, clinging to one another, and Cosmo and Wanda are smothering Timmy's head and face with kisses and tears, and Timmy just clings to them. The fear and uncertainty lifting from them now that they were together again once more. Safe and sound.

[saphronethaleph]

So a sort of look at a structure one could do for the Sequel Trilogy, admittedly with hindsight.

Opening sequence? Basically the same, except that Poe is meeting with a Resistance spy - the data he's got is the evidence that means the First Order is more than just a rando Remnant faction but is a serious threat. Then the stolen TIE crashes but Finn and Poe link up together. They meet BB- and Rey, and the four of them escape on a ship - possibly the Falcon, but it could be another of the same type, they're supposed to be common. Alternatively make up a new ship type they steal and have that be the Iconic Ship of the trilogy.

Team dynamic is Poe Flies, Finn Shoots, Rey Fixes.

They're heading straight to the Resistance, or that's the plan - they may need to briefly detour somewhere if their ship got damaged in the escape (if so, this is where they visit Maz).

The Resistance is explicitly described as a deniable New Republic operation which is fighting this specific Remmant faction - at the moment. They've fought others before, they're kind of like knights errant, and they have at least one Jedi (let's say Qu Rahm) who gives both Finn and Rey some training.

The Jedi Order as a whole is not involved with the First Order fight because it's utterly routine, there's dozens of Remnant factions... at least until BB-8's information reveals that the First Order has Kylo Ren associated with it, and also the existence of Starkiller Base.

The knowledge of BOTH of those things means that the Jedi Order is able to evacuate their current temple (Naboo or Yavin? Either way it should be a known planet) just in time before it gets blown the fuck up by Starkiller base. Then there's tension involving the need to swat SK base quickly, which mostly goes as per the original film.

In the second film:

The Resistance is still tiny, and the First Order's actions have promoted them from "just another Remnant faction" to "holy fuck" and they're starting to weld the Remnant back together. It is actually not widely known that Starkiller base got destroyed and the First Order is using intimidation tactics to pretend they're unbeatably strong - not helped by how the Resistance genuinely is pretty weak, nobody on the Republic side wants to be the first to jump, and Leia is trying to talk everyone into giving more support (it does slowly tick up)

The general structure here does need more changes than TFA did, simply to fit into the trilogy as a whole, but here I think a good Driving Question could be finding out who Snoke is and where the Knights of Ren came from. Our Heroes are juggling between getting Jedi training (for Finn and Rey), launching raids on the First Order, and trying to find out Snoke's origin - the latter of which fails, but he does get killed instead by Kylo Ren, who takes control of the First Order.

The main ending note at the end of the film would be the loss of Leia; she tried to turn her son back to the light side with full sincerity, but also went to kill him if he didn't. Neither worked, but he's been badly wounded and about half of the Knights of Ren got taken out. (n.b. if this is cheating to get around Carrie Fisher's death, and it probably is, that could be Luke's demise instead - or both.) Our Heroes might well be involved with a hot-extraction of R2 and C-3P0, who have important details of what happened.

Third film:

The death of Leia/Luke/both has become a rallying point and the New Republic is gearing up for war, which gains momentum with every day that the First Order doesn't blow up a planet; it's made clear in scenes showing Kylo that he's under a huge amount of pressure, because Starkiller Base made promises that the First Order cannot fulfil. In lieu of that they're having to turn instead to more standard means of brutally enforcing their claim to authority, and it's not working out well.

Our Heroes meanwhile are involved in hit-and-fade strikes, one of which sees the death of Qu Rahm. The loss of their teacher causes Rey and Finn some problems, but Poe is the one who pulls them out of it - it doesn't matter if they have a teacher or not, what matters is who they are, and that didn't change because they had a teacher. All he did was open their eyes to who they really were.

That's the realization that drives the stormtrooper-rebellion side of things from the Resistance/Republic side, while on the Imperial side we see Phasma having more and more trouble keeping a lid on things. Finn is The Traitor and basically blamed for everything that goes wrong ever as far as the First Order is concerned.

Running out of options, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren orders a decapitation strike by the entire F.O. fleet on the capital world of the Republic. This is a serious threat, because normal strategic calculus assumes that you just don't DO this, and this is what leads to the big final battle over said capital world - the Republic is outnumbered on a tactical scale, and the available members of the Jedi Order help launch an assault on the First Order flagship to try and disrupt the F.O. fleet.

This is where the Stormtrooper Rebellion is really kicked off, as Finn brings the existing tension in the First Order fleet to a boil (key moment: a Stormtrooper panics at the sight of Jedi, one of their officers tries to gun them down, Finn kills the officer before it can happen; this is the moment that disproves the propoganda and it spreads). Rey gets the big final duel, but it's against Kylo, and on at least two occasions she manages to call in strike support from Poe flying outside in his starfighter. This means the final battle is the Jedi Order versus the Knights of Ren on a super star destroyer being torn apart by Imperial infighting, and the resolution is liberation - for the stormtroopers, for example - and the surrender of the remaining First Order fleet.

[shootingstarpilot]

In Which Obi-Wan Meets Stitch Properly

Happy Friday! Today's been A Day, so to make myself feel better, I wrote a lil scene referenced in Chapter 11 of how to bring him home:

Stupid.

It wasn’t even during a battle. Not on the ground, where the noise is everywhere all the time and where he tucks himself back and away and pulls on ‘81 for a bit, because ‘81 knows not to flinch at loud noises and or tap his fingers and Stitch can keep being a good medic while ‘81 takes the brunt of the noise and the darkness and everything else.

It’s effective. ‘81 had gotten him out of Kamino. ‘81 keeps him and his brothers alive on the battlefield. But being ‘81 is exhausting. So he stops being ‘81 on the ship once he realizes he doesn’t have to be. Because no one tells him that he’s tapping too much or talking too fast or being too stupid, and he can walk up to Helix or Needle and ask for a hug and get one.

(‘81 doesn’t get hugs.)

So he’s not prepared at all when he wanders into the engineering bay just in time for the sharp snap of a backfiring engine to crack his brain open like an egg.

He backpedals instinctively, all thoughts of routine physicals dropped along with his composure on the engineering bay’s floor, and the whole world goes snapshot-blurry. 

Boots skidding across the floor.

A door that won’t open.

His own breathing, too loud.

A door that won’t open.

His own heartbeat, too fast.

A door that won’t open.

Voices approaching–

And then, finally, a door that does.

He flings himself in– glimpses a bucket, a mop, cleaning supplies– yanks the door shut behind him, and tries to fold down onto the floor. If his head’s between his knees, then that’s a few more layers between him and everything that’s too loud. But the engine’s vibrations tear all the way through him and splinter him all apart into a hundred thousand million tiny pieces–

He tries to back into a corner but the vibrations are in the walls too and hit right behind his shoulder blades–

He skitters into the middle of the room but the noise sneaks in through his feet and crawls all the way up and empties him out until there’s no room for shame or embarrassment or anything of himself at all, so he stands in the middle of the room with his hands over his ears and his eyes squeezed shut and tries to pretend he doesn’t have feet because eventually things go quiet again, they do, it’s just a question of how long it takes and how much of him gets peeled away in the meantime–

A different kind of quiet settles over him.

Not the raw type of quiet that usually arrives after the noise has worn itself out.

This is a solid quiet. As if someone has built a wall between him and the noise and has told it very sternly to stay out. 

The vibrating roar of the engines has dulled into an almost imperceptible hum. Like how it should be. 

He can’t hear his hammering heartbeat anymore, and his breathing is comfortably muffled.

He pries his eyes open carefully, in case someone actually managed to put a blanket over his head.

No one has. 

But there’s a blanket on the floor in front of him. 

He bends down and picks it up.

It’s brown. Brown is a quiet color. And it feels nice on his hands. 

He considers it for a moment, and then drapes it carefully over his head.

Oh. That’s much better.

In the dark and quiet, he has enough room to breathe properly.

And as he works on that, a slow, simmering shame begins to kindle uncomfortably behind his ribs.

That–

That wasn’t good.

The last time he’d let that happen had been on Kamino. An alarm had gone off in the barracks. A false alarm– the announcement came over the comms, calling off evacuation protocols– but the shrieking whine hadn’t shut up, and Stitch hadn’t been very big then so he’d opened his mouth to drown it out himself, and then Fractal had tackled him and dragged him under the bunk and pressed his face into his shirt so he could scream quietly and he’d squeezed him tight enough to force out all the noise that was trying to fill him up and–

He cuts the rest of that thought off, and breathes it out.

Then he breathes out the hiccups, and the ache behind his eyes, and the prickling numbness in his feet.

This time, when he peels the blanket off his head, the lights don’t hurt anymore.

He stares at the wall.

Then he shakes out the blanket, intending to fold it up, until he sees something that stops him short.

The blanket has a hood.

He stares.

Sleeves, too.

Then he remembers–

They don’t have brown blankets on the ship.

He looks down.

The thin line of light under the door is partially blocked.

Someone is sitting outside.

He looks again at the blanket-that-is-not-a-blanket.

At the blanket that is a cloak.

Clone troopers do not wear cloaks.

After a moment, he gives up on trying to fold it, and wraps it around his shoulders instead.

Helix says that General Kenobi can be trusted. Helix says to stay with General Kenobi because he brought troopers home safe. Helix says that General Kenobi stopped the decommissionings and that he wouldn’t ever send anyone back to Kamino, not even if they were– 

Not even if there was something really wrong with them.

(Helix says that General Kenobi is kind.)

Stitch takes a deep breath.

“We are learning,” he tells himself sternly, “how to be more than afraid.”

He opens the door before he can think better of it.

General Kenobi looks up.

Stitch hesitates before settling down cross-legged onto the floor next to him.

“Hello, sir.”

“Hello, Stitch.”

His voice is very gentle. Not loud at all.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, sir.”

Then, belatedly–

“How are you feeling?”

The General smiles, and Stitch relaxes. “Quite all right, Stitch. Thank you for asking.”

“You’re welcome,” he says quietly.

They sit in silence for a long moment until something occurs to him.

“Did you make it quiet?”

“I did.”

“Oh. How?”

“Nothing in your head, if that’s what you’re worried about,” General Kenobi says easily, and Stitch hastily remembers to worry about that and then remembers to be relieved that he doesn’t have to. “I have a friend who gets… overstimulated. Have you heard the term psychometry before?”

Stitch shakes his head.

“It is, in essence, the ability to read impressions by touch. Very useful, when used carefully, but occasionally he will glean something by accident, and sometimes those things are… overwhelming. We– myself and my friends– learned when we were much younger what would help. Creating a bubble of sorts would muffle other stimuli and give him time to reorient himself.”

He gives Stitch a sideways look, and says pointedly, “He’s quite the fierce fighter, and I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

Stitch ducks his head, feeling a burning flush crawl up the back of his neck.

“The– the bubble,” he says haltingly. “Did you– when you make it– with the Force?”

The General lets it slide. “I did.”

Stitch makes a face, and General Kenobi laughs.

He can’t help it. The Force doesn’t make sense, especially not General Kenobi’s, and it bothers him. Helix too, he knows. 

He doesn’t think it bothers Needle.

(But then again, he doesn’t think anything manages to bother Needle.)

The General shifts up onto his knees and closes his eyes, and the world–

Stitch doesn’t know how to describe it.

It settles back into place. Quietly. With no itching. And the noise makes sense again.

“Thank you,” he says, remembering, and really means it. “And– here–”

He pulls the cloak off his back and offers it up.

General Kenobi gives him a considering look.

“You could keep it, if you like,” he says. “I have more.”

“It’s not mine, sir.”

“What if I gave it to you?”

Stitch opens his mouth, and then pauses, scowling. Technically, it would be his, he knows, but not– not in the right way–

The weight vanishes from his hand. 

“You don’t have to,” General Kenobi informs him gently, slipping his arms into the sleeves. “It was just an offer. But thank you for giving it back.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

“Would you like me to comm someone?”

“No thank you, sir.”

“All right,” the General accedes easily. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“Please don’t be bleeding,” Stitch ventures, and feels immensely pleased with himself when General Kenobi lets out a sudden bark of laughter.

“I’ll try my best.”

Stitch stays sitting against the wall for some time after General Kenobi leaves.

Thinking.

It’s only when voices approach from down the hallway that he levers himself to his feet and makes his way back to the medbay.

One week later, Needle comes in with their deliveries from the recent requisitions order and gleefully informs Stitch that there is something in it for him.

Stitch, bewildered, accepts the package. 

After some unsubtle encouragement from Needle, he opens it carefully.

Headphones.

Good headphones.

And the tag–

The tag says his name.

They’re his. 

(Properly.)

Later, Stitch concludes that General Kenobi sees the whole galaxy the way Helix sees him.

He thinks that’s a lot of people to love quite so much.

[inthememetime]

There are plenty of posts where Justice League and Constantine sees Danny's Ghost King Form in all of its Eldritchy glory, from on being Lightning Based to one being compared to an event horizon, as he takes down the ghost that was giving the League problems and it basically freaks them out.

So when I stumbled upon this picture

I knew that this could be an excellent form worthy of a King if it was tweaked to fit Danny with ghostly elements, and maybe ice themes sprinkled with something Space related.

Like Vortex or Undergrowth is giving the League trouble, then this thing straight out of the Old Testament shows up, takes down the Ghost, and turns back to Danny who didn't know he just melted the League's brains.

Or, maybe during The Legion of Doom / The Light tries to summon the Ghost King for power/ take over the world, and Danny comes along looking like that and scares everyone there shitless.

How do you think that will go down?

I have had this in my drafts for So Very Long... Im sorry!!!

Holy *^$π, Batman!™

I LOVE the image, and 100% agree, it's an awesome base to work off with Danny.

I think it would be hilarious. Matter of fact, I wrote a fic about it. 😁 If you have an AO3, let me know and I'll gift it to you.

Ao3 here

Be Not Afraid- or Whatever

Summary: The weather god- though Constantine swore it was 'just' a ghost- had pinned down the entire Justice League. While they'd managed to trap Vortex in a two square mile area and evacuate civilians, and even arrested the cult responsible, they in turn were trapped in a small warehouse, protected only by the blood blossom spray and salt circle Constantine made.

With no way to fight it, they had only one choice: summon another ghost. Enter Ghost King Danny Phantom, stage right.

    Rain, wind, and hail pounded heavily against the metal roof and walls of the tiny back office of a warehouse. 

    Earlier today- just this morning, in fact- it had been a bright and warm summer day. The Flash flinched as a piece of hail broke through a window. Constantine didn't flinch, intent on his task. Superman was still unconscious, Batman picking out shards of kryptonite from a bullet that had hit its mark too well. 

    It was silent but for the occasional pained gasp from their Kryptonian friend, and Constantine's low mutters in what sounded like Ancient Latin to Barry's untrained ears. 

    Thunder roared, and the single lightbulb went out. Wordlessly, Batman cracked a pair of glowsticks, passing one to him so he could hold it up for Constantine. Clark groaned quietly. 

    A cult of summoners swearing fealty to Vortex, Lord of Storms, seemed easy enough to stop; Batman made the plan and coordinated with everyone. He and Superman rescued hostages and dock workers alike as Batman and Constantine took down the cult. 

    It was supposed to be easy. Simple. It was anything but. 

    The smell of the weird floral spray Constantine used- Blood Blossoms, the magic user had said- was beginning to fade. A drop of sweat fell down Constantine's face. His lips were pressed tight, white against the odd pallor of his face. 

    "John," Barry whispered, "how much longer?"

    Another window broke. Batman swore quietly. "Good news is, we've got the blood sacrifice ready," he joked under his breath. He winced then, and pressed his hand against the bandage on his arm. 

    It had bled through again, but the others were needed for Clark. In a rare event, the alien was the most injured on the team. 

    The cultists had purchased bullets laced with kryptonite from somewhere, which didn't hurt Constantine any more than a regular one. The same couldn't be said for Clark. 

    The magic-user hesitated until water started to bubble underneath the door, threatening the complicated circle of chalk and blood. He spoke, and this time it wasn't in Latin. Barry couldn't recognize it. 

    The temperature began to drop further while the air around the man began to shimmer, almost. Ozone gathered in the air, and the darkness increased until he couldn't see anything. Even the glowstick was a pinprick of light so tiny he couldn't be sure it was real. 

    A low rumble sounded and a radioactive green pool started to open. One massive clawed hand grabbed the edge. Constantine's voice cracked- but didn't stop. Another hand pulled out, and another, folowed by one more. 

    They were white as snow up to the wrists. One massive wing shot up, far too big for the office, followed by another, both black as night and covered with starry patterns. The next thing Barry made out was a crown of twisted black iron and glittering jewels, wreathed in green flame, atop two large horns, blue like sea ice. 

    The figure continued to rise as John spoke, revealing a second, then third set of wings and a mane of white hair which flowed in a wind he couldn't feel. Four sets of eyes opened, some solid green and glowing, some pitch black, some solid white, and the last a myriad of colors. 

    The thing's face was almost tan, almost the color of mortal flesh, but green scars like lightning bolts marred it. A thud alerted him of one massive foot, then another, both white and clawed. 

    The rest of its body except a shining white D was black as the void. When it opened its mouth, he had to look away, unsure if he feared or loved it, found it beautiful or terrifying. 

    Abruptly, the light from the sticks was back. He didn't dare look at Clark or Batman to see how they were doing; every instinct said he was in front of a predator, and showing the weak of the herd would be a death sentence. 

    Finally, Constantine fell silent. 

    "What's up? Kind of a weird place for a summons, you know," it said, and Barry swallowed. It sounded like a child, an old man, a windstorm, the shriek of a blizzard, the thunder of roaring waves all at once. 

    "I have summoned you, King of Ghosts, to take your servant back to your realm," Constantine managed, voice only wavering a little. 

    It leaned forward. "And the price?"

    The thing sounded almost teasing. Amused. 

    "What would you ask of us?"

    "Autographs," it immediately said. "From Martian Manhunter, Superman, Cyborg, and Wonder Woman."

    Wait. What?

    "I'm a big fan," it added. 

    "Should all of us survive today, we will do so," he agreed. 

    "Sweet. Gimme like 5 minutes. Maybe 10, Vortex is a bit of a bitch. Also, be not afraid or whatever. I'm one of the good guys."

    It was gone, then, and abruptly Barry sucked in a breath. Sounds of a fierce battle echoed from outside for several minutes before the storm abruptly stopped. 

    Slightly singed, the Ghost King returned. "Hey, does Supes over there need a doctor? I know a good one in the GZ."

    He swallowed. Batman cleared his throat. "We only need to get the kryptonite out of him, he'll be fine."

    "Okay!" It chirped, then reached over and, without so much as ruffling the suit, reached into the alien and pulled out a small handful of shards. "I'll be back in a few weeks for those autographs- I'd say tomorrow, but time is weird. Bye, guys!"

    "Wait- can I ask for a way to contact you? If you'd be willing to help in the future," Constantine asked. 

    "Yeah, sure. My Chirper handle is @realdeadguy, all lowercase, no punctuation," he said, "and you can call me Phantom if you want."

    -

    "Guys!"

    Sam groaned and Tucker covered his face with a pillow. 

    "Dude, we know you just got back from a summons, but it's 3 am."

    Danny rocked back and forth, wings twitching. "I met the Justice League! They're so cool! Batman was there! Batman!!!"

    "I thought you were all about Su-"

    "And I saved Superman's life, isn't that awesome?! I kept the kryptonite, look, real-life rock from space!"

    "Rocks aren't alive, Danny," Sam muttered. Then, a second later, "wait, what?! You met the Justice League? Was Wonder Woman there?"

    "No, but I asked for an autograph."

[ooffmlsorry]

Law comforting you when you're teary from PMS

A/N: another self-indulgent one, folks...and not one of the ones I'm supposed to be writing. You could read this as pretty early on in knowing Law, hence why he's referred to as "Captain Law" several times.

T/w: period talk and mention of cramps/blood, reader has a vagina

During your last bloody run-in with the Marines, you handled things perfectly fine. Actually, and you wouldn't say this to anyone but your reflection, you did stellar. Covering the Heart Pirates' backs with your sniper rifle, ordering your flying fire cat Moremi to evacuate as many of the injured as possible, and calling out threats as you saw them. You kept a cool head despite your and Moremi's injuries, the danger, and the constant pumping of adrenaline in your veins. The crew was impressed, as a new addition you had a lot to prove...especially to Captain Law.

And then there was the drop off. After things settled a little, after you were cocooned within the metal safety of the Polar Tang, your body betrayed you.

Waking up in the middle of the night to a familiar ache in your abdomen, you shoved Morimi's warm, purring mass off of you to shuffle to the bathroom, and sure enough, even in the dim light the bathroom could see the dark stain of blood on your underwear.

Of course.

Horrible timing as usual.

You thought you had another week, which would've been enough time catch up on organizing your reports, cataloging your discoveries properly, and helping Captain Law care for the injured, but you didn't...clearly.

You took care of it and stumbled back to bed, so exhausted you could barely keep your eyes open.

You woke up to your energy completely sapped; your brain and body blanketed with an inescapable shroud of fog. Despite your crewmates waking up around you and getting their day started, your body wasn't moving. Or rather, the part of your brain that could list everything you wanted to do today, everything you expected yourself to do today, was a tiny whisper compared to the heaviness of your eyelids and limbs.

"I'm just so tired," you said into Miremo's fur, curling into her further. She was like your own personal heating pad.

It was infuriating. Just days ago you were bandaging wounds cheerfully, despite your grim situation and collecting stories from the islanders. And now...it felt like there was nothing in the world that could make you move.

Much later than everyone else you eventually made your way to kitchen to eat something before your cramps got worse again. Your breakfast, which forced a pitiful laugh out of you, were the quickest snacks you could grab and a glass of milk. The thought of eating in the kitchen crossed your mind and was quickly swallowed by the haze floating around your skull. You didn't realize the thought had occurred until you were already in bed with Moremi again. Was your brain really that far gone?

Now couldn't be a worse time, except maybe during the battle, but still! There was still so much left to do and you were in bed! Doing nothing except eating breakfast! Even your own slow, lazy chewing was getting on your nerves. The sounds of the crew going on with their duties outside the door only made everything worse.

Weak. You're so weak.

Tears started to sting your nose and eyes.

"Great," you sniffles. "So I'm just going to sit here and cry."

Not that you had much against crying, but there was still so much more to do. So much you could be helping your new crew with. So much you could be doing to safeguard all the new tales and knowledge you had gathered.

Moremi twitched as tears sizzled and steamed on her fur. She shifted on top of you to nuzzle your arm with her nose but otherwise didn't move much.

Just then, the door opened, and none other than your captain Trafalgar Law entered. His eyes found you immediately, a scowl formed on his lips.

"Y/N-ya, you're still in bed. Your injuries weren't that severe. Did something happen?"

Exactly. He's right. Get up.

"No," you wipe your tears away. "Just being lazy, I'll get up, captain." Moremi growls a little at being shoved off. You know she's more upset that you're getting up when you shouldn't than at being moved.

Law stops you. "If you're ill please stay in bed. I'll tell the others to keep away from you."

You almost wish that was the case. Your cramps weren't even that bad, you were just exhausted....exhausted like everyone else probably was.

"No, I'm not. I'm just exhausted."

The last thing you expected was for Law to sit down on your bed next to Moremi and grab your face. His hand was gentle but cold and smelled like some kind of medical cleanser. He lifted your chin to observe you, looking for something.

"Open your mouth."

You do so almost without thought.

He continued to examine you. "I don't have lazy crewmembers," he said.

Even with your captain's words, you didn't feel the urge to get up, which only made you despair further.

Tears started to sting your eyes again. With Law squeezing your face a little, they rolled down your cheeks immediately. "I know...I'm sorry, captain."

Law's eyes widened in shock and he let go as if burned. "Y/N-ya." Law sits awkwardly, clearly at a lost for words. "I...I didn't mean to scare you, if that's what it is."

The tears take you over completely. "No, I'm just so tired." You sobbed. "And there's so much to do, but I can't. I can't even think straight. I stand up and my body hurts and I can't fight it anymore. I don't have it in me. I'm just so, so tired. I'm sorry I can't do anything." You sobbed into your hands, covering your face and cried.

A long silence followed, so long you thought Law had left, and then, the weight of his hand on your shoulder pulled your face from your hands.

"You did well in our fight, you need to rest." He spoke matter-of-factly but tenderly. You had never heard him speak so carefully to anyone.

"But you're--"

"We're different people," he said. "If you tried to help now, you'd accomplish nothing. I think we both know that."

Your eyes already felt heavy. At some point you had started to lean as if falling over. You began to doze in front of Law but you saw no judgment in his eyes, just a softness that released the knot of restless guilt in your stomach.

"I told you, I don't have lazy crewmembers. That includes you." Law slowly guided you into laying down and pulled the covers around you with surprising kindness.

"I'll have Ikkaku bring you something real to eat when you wake up. Just rest until you feel better. We can handle ourselves."

You didn't realize Law lingered watching you sleep soundly for a moment before turning the lights off in the cabin with a small smile.