#because it's not their responsibility to try to fix the system that fucked them both over

[effable-as-f]

I've been trying to figure out the best way to word this and I think I have so bear with me

Aziraphale loves Crowley. That's plain as day, he loves seeing Crowley happy, he loves receiving affection from Crowley. But I don't think he particularly likes making sacrifices or pushing himself out of his comfort zone, when Crowley has shown time and time again that he's willing to do the same for him.

I hope I'm not alone in thinking that this season has been showing us all the ways that Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship is sort of... inequal--Aziraphale doesn't respect Crowley's wishes about making changes to the Bentley and only stops once Crowley threatens to treat his belongings the same way, he's dismissive of his concerns about Gabriel, he's too distracted with his ball to listen to Crowley's warning about the actual small army of demons outside their door--all the while Crowley's TOP priority has been Aziraphale and making sure that he won't be harmed, by Gabriel, Heaven, or otherwise.

I mean this in the nicest way possible, because it makes perfect sense for his character, but I think that Aziraphale has always been portrayed as kind of selfish and hypocritical, and I think that's on purpose and it's something that he needs to work through before he'd ever be ready to take his relationship with Crowley to another level. I think he's started to take for granted that Crowley will always be there for him, and that what makes him happy will always make Crowley happy, when that's not the case. He said it himself: Crowley goes too fast for him. Despite all the progress he's made, he's still stuck in his desire to go back to a fantasy of "the good old days" that never existed.

#good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #good omens meta #aziraphale is so traumatized and so brainwashed and he wants so badly to feel like he's doing the right thing #and he's so sheltered and naive and thinks he can fix everything on his own #but crowley just wants them to be able to REST and be FREE and HAPPY and TOGETHER #because it's not their responsibility to try to fix the system that fucked them both over #part of me wonders if a big source of their conflict #is the fact that crowley SAW the cold casual cruelty with which gabriel tried to send aziraphale to his death #and aziraphale didn't #because deep down in his heart he STILL somehow believes Heaven is on the side of pure good #and he wouldn't see michael simply providing the holy water to execute crowley in the same way #because he's been taught to believe that simply ALLOWING bad things to happen is not as bad as doing it yourself #the demons are the ones doing the actual killing their hands are still clean they're still holy #WHOO that felt good #I haven't done a long 'essay' type post like that in a WHILE

[freedomfireflies]

A-Mazing*

Summary: An extra for 404*

The one where you and Harry find yourselves lost in a corn maze together.

Word Count: 7.5k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, exhibitionism, size kink, Daddy kink, enemies dynamic, Harry being a little bitch 🫶

“Oh, absolutely not.”

Harry smirks as he turns to you, hands sliding into his hoodie pocket. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, I’m serious, I’m not getting stuck with you,” you argue, glancing toward the rest of the group that’s already heading inside the corn maze. “Seriously, please. Anybody else. I will take literally anybody else.”

“Well, you don’t get anybody else,” Harry snorts, much too smug for your liking. “You were late.”

“Yeah, and I was late because I was fixing your mistake,” you remind him. “It took me three hours to recode that sequence. And I’m still not finished—"

“Right, because it wasn’t a fucking mistake, Princess. The way I designed it was going to help it run three times more efficiently than the way Prescott suggested. And you just fucking undid it—"

“You weren’t asked to make it more efficient. You were told to do it the way the client wanted—”

“Well, the way the client wanted it was slow and stupid—”

“And you would be the authority on slow and stupid.”

Harry’s eyes narrow while his lips press into a thin line, looking quite incensed. “Very mature. Are we going in or what?”

“Fine,” you agree through a heavy exhale, shoving past him to head toward the entrance.

You have no idea why you even agreed to come in the first place. Sure, the idea of getting a few coworkers together for some fall fun was sweet, but truth be told, you don’t really care about any of these people outside of the office. You don’t care to see them, or get to know them, or hang out with them.

And the one person you do know happens to also be the one person you can’t stand.

Corn mazes are fun. Even pairing up to do them together is kind of exciting.

But with him? You’d rather get lost.

“All right, here’s your map,” the kind, older woman at the table says, handing you a piece of paper. “Answer the questions at each fork and follow the path according to your answer.”

You nod your understanding and offer a quick thank you before slipping past the tent and toward the beginning of the maze. The setting sun casts shadows across the field as you both make your way through the stocks.

You feel a sense of adventure as you make your way to the first checkpoint. Taking in the lingering scent of kettle corn somewhere off in the distance, and the excited chatter of the other people inside the maze. It’s exhilarating, and you feel a sense of purpose as you stride forward. Spurred on by a need to win – to do better than him.

And you hear Harry subtly huff from somewhere behind you, clearly annoyed with the way you’ve left him behind. “Real fucking mature,” he scoffs, and you can practically hear his eyes roll. “We’re supposed to be a team, Tinkerbell. You know, work together.”

“Well, I don’t want to be on a team with you,” you retort. “And we’ve never worked well together. As is evident by your complete lack of common sense and understanding of the system we’re trying to design.”

“Oh, this shit again—"

“Yes, this shit again. You’re costing us time and money by trying to prove you’re so much better than everyone else—”

“Well, I can’t exactly help it if I am, now, can I?”

You feel your expression fall as you spin on your heel to face him. “You’re fucking annoying, is what you are. It’s not my job to clean up after you. Okay, I’m not your mother, I’m not your babysitter. I am your equal. And it’s about fucking time you start treating me like it.”

Even in the dark, murky space, you can see a certain glimmer in his eye. One that challenges the frown on his face.

He studies you for a moment, eyes searching for a response. “Careful what you wish for, Princess.”

With that, he shoves past you and forges ahead into the maze. Leaving you to stare at his back with a glower.

You’re both silent as you approach the first fork, offering nothing more than looks of indignation and huffs of apathy as you raise your map and scan the question. 

“What does WWW stand for in a website browser?” you read aloud before snorting. “World Wide Web. C.”

An easy question. You both know the answer, and there's no way he can argue with you.

So, instead, he says nothing. Merely glancing over the paper almost skeptically before heading toward the third row.

Pocketing the trivia questions, you chase after him. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? The silent treatment?”

Harry’s back stays to you as he slips between the stocks. “I’m not giving you the fucking silent treatment; I’m not twelve.”

“Then why aren’t you talking to me?”

“Because you’re a fucking brat.”

The vicious way he sneers the word sends a certain reaction down your spine, but you brush it away just as quickly as it appeared. “I thought I was your teammate.”

“You said it yourself, we’re not a team,” he retorts. “You’re not my babysitter, and you’re not my mother. Unless what you were really trying to say is that you want me to call you Mommy.”

You feel yourself hesitate, confused, and slightly startled by the suggestion. “Ew. Why would I want that?”

You see his shoulder lift and fall in a shrug. “I don’t know. You’ve always been a kinky little thing. Maybe it gets you off.”

“Oh, fuck you, I don’t have a mommy kink. Especially not with you.”

“Fine, a daddy kink then. Don’t think I forgot how eager you were to say it last time—”

“That was for you,” you hiss, once again glaring at his hooded back. “Okay, I was trying to see if you liked it, and you did—”

“Of course I did. It’s hot.”

“Sure, yeah. But I’m the kinky one?”

“I never said I wasn’t. I’m just saying, if you want me to call you mommy…all you have to do is ask.”

You come to the second fork, forcing the conversation to a halt as you feel your heart hammer in your chest. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Fine.”

You unfold the map and search for the next question. “What is cynophobia?”

“Easy. Fear of cats.”

“That’s ailurophobia, you dipshit. Cynophobia is a fear of dogs.”

“Dipshit. Classy. No, that’s real nice, Tink. Very romantic.”

“Well, it’s true. Look it up.”

“Can’t,” he says calmly. Confidently. “There’s no service in here.”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you know?”

“Cause I’ve done this before. Many times.”

Your eyes narrow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“…why?”

There’s a brief pause before he says, “She used to love it here.”

Your heart instantly drops into your toes, grimace untwisting as you glance toward the ground. “Oh.”

Another shrug. “Point is, I can’t look it up. So…pick whichever. I don’t care.”

Swallowing thickly, you gesture toward the second exit. “B. The answer is dogs. My brother used to have it when he was younger.”

And for the first time all evening, it’s Harry’s turn to look surprised as he nudges his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “You have a brother?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you learn that from my file?” you tease, and you notice his lips twitch up into a smirk.

“Not exactly.”

“Yeah, well…I don’t really talk about him. He doesn’t live here, he lives back home. After my dad left, he stuck around to take care of our mom.”

You see a flash of sympathy streak across his expression, but you’re brushing him off before he can comment.

“Anyway, it’s B,” you repeat, walking toward the middle row. “If you don’t believe me, then go your own way.”

For a moment, Harry hesitates, almost as though considering it. Then, he sighs, and begrudgingly follows your lead.

This time around, you’re both quiet. Listening to the sounds of everyone else further on in the maze laughing, or talking, or squealing with excitement.

A few scattered lamps help guide you through the dark labyrinth. You can see the wind move through the corn stocks. The way they rustle as they sway with the breeze, adding an element of eeriness to the already spooky scene.

Furthermore, the night air is beginning to grow cold. The fall chill nipping at your skin and reminding you once more that it’s no longer summer as you shiver and pull your jacket further around your body. 

“Should have brought a real coat,” Harry comments, almost haughtily, and it makes your eyes roll. “It’s October, Princess. Can’t wear booty shorts and flip flops anymore.”

Despite the fact that you’re wearing neither of those, you still feel the need to scoff, “Well, of course it’s not cold to you. You’re already dead inside.”

“Ooo, ouch. You got me. Sick burn, Tink. Real sick.”

His flippant response makes your skin crawl. “You are so fucking annoying, do you know that?”

“And you’re a fucking brat, do you know that?”

“I’m not a brat, I’m just right.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

“Yeah, it is whatever I say, actually. I’m the one with the fucking map.”

To prove your point, you wave the paper in the air before stopping beside the next checkpoint.

“What are the names of the four women on the show, The Golden Girls?” you read, eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Uh…I know Rose is one of them.”

“And Betty White,” Harry adds.

“No, her character. Not her,” you huff. “And I’m pretty sure Betty played Rose, so that’s only one.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to help,” he scoffs before glancing over the multiple-choice answers. “Then it’s probably A or C. Those are the only ones with Rose in them.”

“Well, we have to pick one. Okay, we can’t do both—”

“Yes, I fucking know that, Tinkerbell. I’m just narrowing it down—”

“Well, maybe be less condescending about it.”

“Fine,” he nearly snaps, angrily stabbing at the map with his finger. “A. Dorothy, Rose, Blanch, and Samantha.”

“No, that doesn’t sound right. I don’t think they had a Samantha. It was…it was something else. Either Sophia or Sarah.”

“Well, you have to pick one. You can’t have both,” he repeats mockingly, and you begin to glare. “Besides, statistically, it’s more likely they switch up the letters with each guess. We’ve already done B and C. Next should be A.”

“Really? That’s your reasoning?”

“That’s my reasoning. Take it or leave it.”

And you don’t like it. You don’t feel convinced by it. But you decide – just this once – to put your faith in his incessant need to be right. To trust him and his judgment.

You nod once. A curt gesture of good will as he sighs gratefully and takes off toward the first row. 

An eerie feeling follows you as you trail behind. Perhaps an ominous warning to turn around. That something is about to go wrong.

At first, you shake it away. Equating it with your distaste for the man before you.

But soon…you see the real reason why.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you groan when you’re both forced to a stop by a dead end. “See? What did I tell you?”

“Fuck off, you didn’t tell me shit, Princess. It’s a dead end, not death,” he huffs. “We’ll turn around and try again.”

“Can we? We passed like two other rows and now I can’t remember which way we came.”

“Well, that’s not my fault.”

“Oh, bite me, Harold.”

“Just tell me where.”

You feel your heart race beneath your chest. Spurred on by adrenaline, slight fear, and the brisk cold air. “Can you please stop being so infuriating?”

“Can you please stop being such a bitch?” he replies cooly before his eyes flick down toward your shivering frame. “You’re shaking.”

“Yes, I know,” you grit through clenched, chattering teeth. “It’s cold. And don’t you dare make another joke about flip flops. I don’t have the energy to slap you.”

That arrogant smirk returns. “Cute. Told you, you should have brought a coat.”

“Well, I didn’t,” you hiss. “So can we please just get the fuck out of here before I freeze to death?”

Harry’s eyes roll, but you notice his grin grow as he sighs and lifts a hand toward the collar of his hoodie.

In one fluid motion, he’s slipping the sweatshirt up his torso and over his head to hand to you. Dangling the dark fabric between your bodies as you stare at it incredulously.

“Take it,” he grumbles, waving the material in your direction. “And don’t fucking say I’m never nice to you.”

Stunned, you blink quickly. “What…are you doing?”

“Just put it on,” he huffs, gesturing toward you again. “Cause, if you die out here, I’m not dragging your body back.”

Your eyelids narrow into small slits while you cautiously reach for the hoodie. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Once you’ve taken it, he uses his knuckle to shove his glasses back into position. “Like you said, I can’t get cold. I’m dead inside.”

You smile at this before pulling the cozy jacket over your head. It smells…good. It smells like him. Radiating heat and the faint scent of his cologne. 

Truth be told, it feels like a warm hug. Something you can’t imagine Harry ever giving you on his own. And a part of you feels…relieved. Relaxed and almost…enamored. Perhaps even grateful.

“Thanks,” you murmur, snuggling against the fabric before slipping your hands into the pocket. “You didn’t…have to. I know being nice isn’t your thing.”

He snorts, turning now toward the tall lookout platform just beside the dead end. “Whatever. Maybe we should go up and see if we can see the exit.”

“Okay.”

With that, he turns toward the stairs and begins the trek up. You rush after him, trying hard to see the steps without much light, and thankfully making it to the top in one piece as you begin to look around. 

It’s beautiful. Absolutely stunning, the design lit up by the soft glow of the moon. An almost romantic touch, although you shake the thought away. You can see a few groups spread out throughout the rest of the maze, but most of them are already making their way out. Having figured out the riddles much quicker than the two have seemed to.

You pout. “Nuts.”

“Yeah,” he agrees in a low grumble. “Okay, we’ll…we’ll turn around. Maybe you were right. Maybe it was C. We can try that next.”

It’s strange to hear him admit you could have been correct, and you can’t help but smirk as you nod. “Okay.”

You follow Harry down the other side, focusing your attention on your footing as you take each step one at a time.

But once you’re toward the bottom, your tennis shoe suddenly catches on a rogue nail, and you begin to stumble. Body falling forward before you can even reach for the railing.

Instantly, Harry – who’s already made it back to the ground – reaches out for your arms, slipping his hands beneath your elbows to help steady you and catch you just in the nick of time. Sparing you from a rather embarrassing fall.

You gasp as you’re flung forward, allowing yourself to settle in his embrace for support while you work on your balance and place your feet back where they need to be.

And once you’re sure you’re sturdy, you take a deep breath, and straighten up.

“Shit,” you whisper, lashes fluttering from the rush of adrenaline, and the feel of his touch. “I hate these shoes.”

You expect a snarky quip, but instead, you see his expression twist from behind his glasses as he glances over your face. Hands still glued to your arms. “Are you all right?”

A bit stunned by the soft and rather gentle tone of voice, you nod once. “Yeah. Sorry, I’m…sorry. I should have been looking.”

He seems confused by your apology but chooses to ignore it, instead watching you closely as if monitoring your reaction. “If you wanted me to hold you, Tinkerbell, you could have just said so.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, cheeks growing warm as you push yourself out of his arms. “Fuck off.”

“Fuck off? Or fuck me?”

“Ha. Very funny.”

“Maybe I’m not being funny,” he argues. “Maybe I mean it.”

“Oh, really?���

“Really.”

You snort. “Harry, come on. This would be the last place to fuck.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why. What’s wrong with it? It’s dark. Secluded. There’s the element of getting caught, which I know you like.”

“Harry,” you repeat, almost doubtfully. “We…there’s no place to even do it. It’s way too exposed, and cold, and dangerous. We’d be better off just fucking in my car.”

“If we can even find our way back to your car,” he retorts teasingly. “Besides, I thought you liked danger.”

You gaze at him with suspicion, feeling that odd racing return to your chest. “You’re not being serious, are you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe. I wasn’t at first, but…it’s not a bad idea.”

“Please. You can’t be that horny that you have to fuck me every time we see each other.”

“Okay, well, I’m not and I don’t,” he scoffs. “It’s just…different.”

“Oh, really? Why?”

Another shrug, but this time, he’s stepping closer. Those soft, green eyes dancing down your body as if drinking you in. Indulging in the sight of you. “I don’t know,” he repeats, a bit quieter. Thicker. “There’s just…something about you, in my clothes. It’s…it’s good. You look good.”

The look in his eye is primal. Breeding a new sense of desire deep within the pit of your stomach. You shift under his lustful gaze, fingers curling into your fist from inside the pocket.

“Thanks, I guess,” you manage to say, noticing the way he continues to move closer. “It is comfy.”

“Good,” he mumbles, still studying your stance before dragging his attention back up to your face. “And you’re warm?”

“Getting there.”

A short nod. “You know…there are other ways of heating you up.”

The sneaky remarks are back, and even though you can feel your legs squeezing together from the suggestive tone of voice, you grin. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He finally reaches you, fingers outstretching for the front of his hoodie. Moving up your chest almost innocently before slipping around the back of your neck. “Want me to keep you warm, Tink?”

And you want to tease him a little longer, make him wait. Suffer.

But he’s too good. He’s always been too good at catching you off guard and luring you into submission. The way he speaks, the way he looks at you, the way he pulls you closer with the palm of his hand. You can practically taste him. Can smell him everywhere. Feel him in places he’s not even touching you.

And you need it. You need him, you want him. Right now, more than anything.

“Yes,” you exhale, almost shakily. “Yes, please—”

He surges forward, lips connecting with yours almost violently. Stealing the rest of your plea before you can make it.

You can’t breathe. Can’t do anything but whimper as he sucks on your tongue and presses his fingers harder against your head. Trapping you against his mouth until you feel dizzy. 

And he’s so warm. A stark contrast to the brisk, autumn air. And he’s soft in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Inviting. As though he’s been waiting his whole life to lay his mouth to yours.

“Har—” you gasp when he pulls back to nip at your bottom lip. “Har, please—”

You sound deranged. Wounded, almost, and so goddamn pitiful. You’re tugging on his shirt, trying to yank him impossibly closer. Tilting to the left for a deeper angle and raising up onto your toes in order to taste him fully.

“Easy,” he whispers, and it’s so very strained. Like he’s using what little strength he still has to speak to you. “Easy, Princess. S’okay, I’ve got you.”

It’s possessive the way he talks to you. Commanding you to listen. Insisting that your pleasure is his. That your wellbeing is in his hands.

He’s not a caring man by nature. At least not to you. But in moments like this, his dominance takes control. Turning him into a desperate man eager to care for you. To protect you and keep you safe.

Perhaps it’s a more caveman mindset. The idea that he needs to look after you. That you’re his to keep and care for.

But right now…you adore it. Feel safe in the idea of submitting to him.

“Please,” you try again, breathless and desperate as you cling to his strong frame and beg him for something only he can give you. “Harry, please…hurts.”

There’s a teasing glimmer in his eye, brightened by the reflection of his glasses. “Yeah? Is it achy, Tink?”

You nod quickly, grabbing onto his other hand to slide it down your stomach. Right toward where you need him most.

And he lets himself be moved, watching with intrigue at the way his fingers are dragged toward your thighs. Smirking rather sadistically while pressing his palm against your pussy with fervor.

You whine at the subtle friction, already attempting to grind down against the heel of his hand as he meets your pace with soft strokes of his own. 

“There you go,” he murmurs, watching your hips before returning his attention to your face. “Feels good, baby, yeah? Like to use me, don’t you?”

Another quick nod, and you sigh contently when he presses his lips to your cheek. Placing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“Har,” you try again, nuzzling closer. “Har, they’re…they’re gonna see. Can’t…can’t do it here—”

“Yes we can,” he replies calmly. And the soft, secure tone of voice instantly turns your insides to jelly. “Promise I won’t let them see, okay? Gonna keep you to myself.”

He removes his hand from your pussy to place it on your hip. Guiding you back until you feel your body connect with something hard. You glance around just long enough to find that it’s the wooden frame of the lookout. And he keeps you trapped there as he hides you both beneath the structure, tucking you away from any prying eyes that might pass.

“There,” he says, grinning to himself at the eager look on your face. “Now Daddy can see just how wet you really are, hm?”

You can tell he’s using the nickname sparingly. Tentative of your reaction as he waits to see how you might feel about it.

And truthfully, you hadn’t anticipated liking it as much as you do. Especially in this moment, when he’s giving you everything you’ve ever wanted. It’s like music to your ears, orgasmic just to listen to.

You swallow thickly and nudge your nose against his cheek. “Yes, Daddy.”

He tenses beneath your touch, cursing against the shell of your ear before he whispers, “Show me.”

He returns his hand to yours, allowing your fingers to interlock as you shakily guide him toward your jeans. 

After a bit of maneuvering, you get the zipper down, and help slip his hand inside your underwear. Straight down to your cunt as his fingers glide through your folds until he can find what he’s looking for. 

“Oh, Tink,” he coos almost sympathetically. Stroking your pussy as you move to grip his wrist excitedly. “S’all wet, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you mumble, leaning your head back against the wooden board for stability. “Hurts.”

“I bet,” he tsks, sliding his middle finger toward your hole. Circling it once before glancing over your expression. “Need something to fill you up, hm? Get you warm again?”

You hum your agreement, tugging his touch further into you as he chuckles and steps closer. “Please…”

“What, baby? What do you need?”

You whimper again and roll your hips against his fingers. Needing the friction of his thumb against your clit which he refuses to give you.

“What do you want, hm?” he mumbles, dipping down to ghost his lips across yours. “Just ask…and Daddy will give you anything you want.”

And in this moment, you know he means it.

“Want you…to fuck me,” you exhale, reaching now for the curls lying against the back of his neck. “Please, Har. Need you to fuck me. Make it better. Make it go away.”

“Is that right?” He slips a finger inside, and you feel your insides twist as you gasp and squirm against the pleasurable touch. “Need something bigger, yeah?”

“Yes…yeah. Please. Please, Daddy.”

He smiles again before slipping his hand from inside your jeans to help tug them down your legs. Yanking almost furiously until they’re settled near your ankles. Allowing him just enough room to slip between.

And once your cunt is on display for him, he stares at it with a certain mesmerized admiration. Allowing himself to enjoy you before he reaches for his own belt and tugs it free.

Once he’s managed to pull his cock out, he reaches again for your hips. Squeezing them once before turning you around.

His arm slips around your middle to keep you secure and you grin lazily as you rest yourself against his chest.

“Gonna hold you, just like this,” he whispers against your cheek, and you feel the tip of his cock trailing against the curve of your ass. “Keep you warm.”

The hand against your ribcage is gentle. Keeping you steady as he attempts to hold you close.

“Deep breath, Tink, okay?” he instructs next, nudging the crown against your dripping hole. Warning you of his next step. “Know it’s a lot, but you always take me so well, don’t you? Gonna take me again?”

You grab onto his arm, nails scraping down his skin as you whine, “Yes. Yes, I’ll take you. Just need it, Har, please—"

“Okay, all right,” he shushes, nudging his cheek against your temple. “Need you to relax, okay? Are you relaxed, baby?”

And you think you are. Mentally, anyway. You’ve never felt so comfortable in someone’s arms. Under their influence and control. Even despite the cold air nipping at your thighs and the outside threat of getting caught, you feel at ease. Adrenaline coursing through your veins as the sounds of people somewhere else in the maze float toward you. Reminding you of where you are. What could happen.

“Tink,” he warns, sliding his cock through your folds in wait. “I need you to relax for me, okay? I really don’t want to hurt you.”

“No?” you manage to retort, and you catch his smile out of your peripheral. “Thought you liked to hurt me.”

 “I do,” he agrees, lips following the shell of your ear. “But not like this. Don’t wanna split you in half.”

“Maybe I want you to,” you breathe, reaching back for his neck. “Maybe I need it, Daddy.”

He chuckles almost darkly before pressing his mouth against your heated skin. “I’ll remember that.”

With that, he drops his hand down to your cunt, circling his fingers around your clit until he feels your body unwind. Allowing him just enough room to begin pushing his cock in.

“There you go,” he sighs, both of you groaning when you feel how easily he slips in. “So fucking good. Take me so well, don’t you? Always do, I know. Relax, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

The burn is almost overwhelming. Demanding your focus and attention as you feel him stretch you open, forcing your walls to accommodate his size.

“Hey,” you hear him murmur, his palm coming up to cup your jaw. Thumb sweeping across your parted lips. “Are you breathing? Gotta breathe, Tink, come on. You know better—”

“I know,” you gasp, sucking in a greedy gasp for air before you suck in his finger. “I know, Daddy, m’sorry.”

He hums his approval before allowing himself to sit inside your warm mouth. “It’s okay, know it feels good, hm?”

“Mhm,” you agree around the large digit, allowing your tongue to settle him on your tastebuds. “More.”

“More?” he repeats, using his other hand to squeeze your hip. “Want more, greedy girl?”

“Please…”

“Please," he echoes thoughtfully. "Greedy Girl has manners, how precious.”

There’s a slight air of condescension and teasing to his response, and you feel yourself flutter around his length.

His grin grows. “You like that, baby?”

You manage one more weak nod as you press yourself against his body, squirming in his hold while his cock pushes in to the hilt.

“There,” he exhales, groaning some before falling still. Allowing your body to adjust to his size. “You okay?”

“Yes…yes, m’okay. Please move, please…please, Daddy—”

“Okay, all right,” he agrees coarsely, readjusting his stance before returning his arm to your stomach. Just beneath your chest. “Need you to be good, okay? Just listen to Daddy��s voice and do what I say.”

“I will. I will, I promise.”

“Good.” He begins to pull back. Dragging his cock through your quivering hole as you moan his name.

But such a loud noise isn’t quite what he had in mind, his other palm reaching up to smack across your mouth to silence you.

“Uh-uh,” he grunts, pausing the rhythm of his hips until he’s sure you’ll obey. “None of that. M’keeping you for myself, remember? Can’t let them know.”

You make an incoherent noise against his hand before writhing back against his cock. Needing more friction and movement that he refuses to give you.

“Unless that’s what you want, Greedy Girl,” he whispers into your neck. “Want them to see what I do to you. The way I make you fall apart…the way you beg for my cock. Even when you hate me.”

The idea sends a shiver down your spine as you groan his name and claw at his wrist.

“Is that what you want?” he murmurs between sharp thrusts. “S’it why you keep this pretty pussy so nice and tight for me? Cause you want them to know that it’s only me? That everything…everything…you do is because of me?”

Your eyes roll back, either from annoyance or pleasure. But it’s blissful, this feeling. This hard fuck, this angry connection. 

And yet, this infuriating man is oddly tender with you. Holding you close and helping you find your release, despite the way he goads you.

“Do you, Tink?” he asks again. “Do you want Lucas to see? Want them all to fucking see what you do to me?”

His nails are scraping down your ribcage, pulling you taut against his chest as he drives his cock as deep as it’ll go. Hips meeting your ass as he releases your mouth to hold onto you again, keeping you still.

“Tell me,” he says between deep breaths. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you only cum for me—”

“Har—”

“My greedy little whore. My dirty fucking princess.” His tone is angry. Dissolving into something feral as he begins to pound into you with a harder force. Nearly knocking the wind from your lungs. “Not his. Mine. Always mine—”

“Yours,” you repeat between soft whines. “Yours, Harry, you know that—”

“Yeah?” He holds you tighter, allowing you no room to squirm as he nears his release. His pace becomes faster and sloppier the closer he gets. Allowing your warmth to soak him, draw him in. Using you as nothing more than a toy. A means to his end. “Then prove it.”

Even without much extra stimulation, you can feel yourself getting closer to the brink. Harry has always had this innate ability to get you there without much more than a few pumps of his cock. Perhaps it’s his size or his technique. The way he knows exactly where to thrust in order to hit the right spot and make you see stars. 

And maybe there’s a part of you – albeit small – that enjoys the idea of being good for him. Of coming on his cock (or his tongue or his fingers) just so he can watch. So he can feel what he does to you.

Maybe…you just want to be good for him. At least in moments like this. To know that you’ve earned his approval, his praise. That such a brilliant man has devoted his time and attention and body just to you. 

That you’re worthy of his time.

Worthy of him.

It’s almost degrading to think about and yet…it makes you clench. Pussy clamping down on his beautifully thick cock until he groans and nuzzles his nose against your neck.  

“Shit,” he hisses, rhythm stuttering as a shot of pleasure rolls through him. “Tink, if you’re gonna do that, I’m gonna cum.”

“Good,” you answer instantaneously. “Want you to. Need you to, Daddy, please—”

“No,” he huffs, and he stills for only a moment as if attempting to refrain from falling apart. “No, need you to cum first. Daddy needs to feel you cum first, okay? Come on, baby, gotta give it to me—”

You mewl helplessly, drowning out the rest of his instruction. You’re close, and you know it won’t be much longer until it overwhelms you.

And there’s some part of you that feels…disappointed. Saddened by the idea of things going back to how they normally are. That he’ll take himself from you – take his cock from you – and return to the maddening man you can hardly tolerate.

Maybe subconsciously, you try to hold off. Keep your orgasm at bay so you can keep him just a little longer. So you can appreciate the caring man behind you and the way he’s so desperate to put you first.

He’s quite wonderful when he’s not being an ass.

“Tink,” he grunts, hand moving up toward your jaw. You feel his palm press to your throat, and you swallow thickly against his skin. “Baby, I want you to cum. Wanna feel you. What do you need? Hm? Wanna play with your pretty button for me?”

You nod pitifully and allow your own fingers to move down toward your cunt. It’s wet and achy and swollen so much it almost hurts to touch. But you release a strained breath, nevertheless, appreciating the sting of overstimulation as you writhe in his hold.

You can feel your body beginning to overheat the closer you get. Helping warm you up from the October chill still biting at your skin. And the sounds of your friends aren’t far behind. Perhaps looking for you, waiting for you both to exit the maze and continue on with your evening.

But you don’t give a damn about anybody else right now. Just him.

Something you never thought you’d say.

“Getting closer, yeah?” he hums against your ear, fingers tightening around your neck. “I know. Fucking shaking, baby, you’re okay. I got you. Just let it happen, let go.”

There’s something about his voice. About the feel of his glasses against your temple. About the way he makes you feel safe and secure. The way he effortlessly brings you to the edge and promises to catch you when you fall.

You know he hates you. And yet you also know that despite this loathing you share, you’re still his priority. That he’ll put your pleasure first, no matter what. That he wants to be good.

“Har,” you whimper through a high-pitched whine. “Shit, please—”

“You close? Gonna give it to me? Make Daddy happy?”

The reminder of the nickname makes you moan, a bit softer than before, but still rather lewd. And Harry tsks from behind you, once again sliding his palm up to your mouth.

“Dirty fucking princess,” he grits before he’s suddenly slamming himself into you. “Can’t ever do what she’s told, hm? Just loves to disobey me. Wants to get caught. Wants to be my greedy little girl—”

My greedy little girl.

That’s what does it for you. His possession, his mark, his claim. Reducing you to nothing more than this thing he uses for his pleasure. An object to be had.

In any other moment, you’d chastise him for it.

Right now, it’s everything you need to hear.

You cum on his cock without much choice. Pleasure unfurling like the petals of a flower in spring. For a moment, the overpowering sensation is all you can comprehend. Just ecstasy, a weightless euphoria. Lifting you up and dropping you back down.

He curses when he feels it, offering you quick murmurs of praise before he’s grabbing onto your hips with both hands and yanking you back. Using this leverage to drive his cock in in sharp thrusts before he’s following. Releasing himself into you with a groan as you gasp and grab onto one of the beams for support.

Thirty seconds pass of heavy breathing and lingering whimpers before you both fall quiet, chests heaving and legs still shaking.

He doesn’t pull out for at least a moment or two, merely holding onto your waist as he works to gather himself together.

“Shit,” he finally whispers, and you feel the subtle stroking of his thumb against your tender skin. Right over the bruises you’re sure to find tomorrow. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum weakly, nodding once. “Really good, actually.”

“Yeah? Good. You needed it.”

You feel your lips pull back into a smile. “Oh, did I?”

“You really did.”

“Right. Even though you’re the one that fucks me every time you see me.”

You hear him scoff as he finally – and slowly – pulls out. Allowing your muscles to unwind as you release a deep breath. “I’m doing you a favor,” is his reply. And it’s laced with a condescension and haughtiness that you know all too well.

“Oh, is that what you’re doing?”

“Yes.” He tucks himself back into his briefs before crouching down to reach for your jeans. Pulling them back up your legs with a strange amount of care, despite his snarky attitude. “I do a lot of favors for you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

You turn around while he steps back and readjusts his glasses. “Was getting us lost one of those favors?”

A strange, almost sadistic kind of grin begins to stretch across his face. “Maybe.”

You hesitate. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs once before backing out of the lookout as you rezip your jeans. “It means…maybe I knew this was the wrong way.”

“…I’m sorry?”

His hands shove into his pockets while his sly smile seems to mirror his satisfaction. “I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to do some…exploring.”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” you nearly gasp, striding after him so you can swat your hand across his chest. “Are you fucking serious? You got us lost on purpose?”

“We were never lost, Tinkerbell. I knew exactly where we were."

"Yeah? And where are we?"

"Taking a detour."

“I cannot believe you,” you murmur, staring at him rather incredulously. “God, you are so fucking horny, it’s insane.”

“Oh, relax,” he snorts. “I didn’t take you back here to fuck you. I just thought you’d wanna see the top of the maze.”

“And you couldn’t have just asked?”

“Would you have agreed?”

You consider this. “…all right, maybe not. But you’re still a fucking ass.”

“Yeah,” he agrees coyly. “I know.”

You keep your stern glare, but your grin is playful. “Whatever. Does this mean you know the way out?”

“I do,” he says. “There’s a shortcut. Cassie and I used to cheat and use it all the time.”

The revelation of her name makes your breath catch. You hadn’t expected him to reveal something so personal, and there’s a part of you that isn’t quite sure what to do with it.

You can tell he hasn’t realized his slip, because he’s still smiling at you like he’s waiting for you to get the joke. To laugh with him.

But there’s something else in his eye – something beautiful and reminiscent. Excited. Like the mere mention of her name has calmed him. Reminded him of a better time. A happier place. 

Reminded him of someone who isn’t you.

“I see,” you manage, choking the words out as you glance toward the dirt beneath your sneakers. Avoiding his eye. “Well…great. Get me the hell out of here, please.”

He studies you for a moment. You can feel his eyes boring into your profile, as though attempting to work out just what changed in your demeanor.

Then, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip, and says, “Yeah. This way.”

With that, he maneuvers back through the large stocks of corn and leads you through the intricate labyrinth. Weaving his way along the path and bypassing each checkpoint with ease, almost as if he’s done this a hundred times.

You imagine he has.

You reach the exit in only a few minutes, and relief washes over you as you catch sight of your car in the distance. Your means of escape and your excuse to leave him behind. 

“Thank God,” you mumble as you both slip out from the corn and back into the light. “That was…excruciating.”

“Oh, was it?” he teases. “Really? All of it?”

“Yes, all of it,” you snort, but you feel rather amused as you glance over his expression. “Let’s never get stuck in a corn maze together again, agreed?”

“Agreed,” he replies, but there’s a certain playful glimmer in his eye. “We can just fuck the old-fashioned way. In your car.”

“Gee, great.”

You both fall silent as your quippy remarks die down. Looking at each other like you’re waiting for someone to break the spell. To return you both to your anger and your rivalry. To poke fun at the few moments of intimacy and understanding you shared and release you from this strange yearning.

You decide to be the first, clearing your throat as quietly as you can while reaching for the collar of the hoodie to slip it off. “Uh, well…thanks again. For letting me borrow this.”

He blinks, momentarily puzzled – or perhaps…disappointed? – as he watches you pull it from your body. “Yeah. No problem. Just bring a fucking coat next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, remember?” you retort, tossing it over. 

He catches it with one hand, and smiles. “Right. And thank God for that.”

“Exactly.”

Another lull, the two of you continuing to stand in the dimly lit parking lot as you wait for him to say goodbye.

And suddenly, you realize…you don’t want to go. You don’t want to say goodbye. That you feel…safer when he’s around. More relaxed and at ease. Even when you’re griping with him or resisting the urge to put his head through a wall, he’s still…comforting. A forceful and reassuring presence that you otherwise feel lost without. 

Because you remember who he was before…Cassie. You remember his kindness and his ability to make you laugh.

And you know that he’s still that person. He’s still trying to take care of the people he feels closest to, even when he doesn’t mean to. Even when he doesn’t realize.

You know why he pushed you away. You know why he’s created such a vast, unyielding distance. And you can’t exactly blame him.

But the version of him that automatically thinks to care for you…that’s the version you’re drawn to. That’s the version you don’t want to say goodbye to.

“What?” he asks, grinning again as his head cocks. Seeming to notice the shift in your expression. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You hesitate, lashes fluttering as you work out a response. Wondering just how much you can share…and how much of it is real. “Nothing, I…this was just…”

He waits, brow raised. 

Your lips clamp. “Nothing. I��m just thinking about all the fucking work I have to do when I go in tomorrow, thanks to you.”

And you can see he’s unconvinced, eyes flicking between yours as if looking for the real answer. But he waits a beat before his smile fades and he asks, “Why did you really come tonight?”

A bit caught off-guard by the question, you blink. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you could have partnered with anyone else. If you really wanted,” he explains, slowly stepping closer. Forcing a hitch in your throat. “Could have left me behind. Gone ahead. But you didn’t. Why?”

And there it is. That hint – that almost undetectable trace – of vulnerability behind the usual arrogance. He’s giving you the chance, offering you an opportunity for truth.

And maybe you want to take it. Maybe you want to confess and unburden yourself of this weight that’s settled on your shoulders. 

The truth teases the tip of your tongue, laden with consequences.

But just before you can offer him the real answer, there’s a distant laugh from one of the groups back in the maze. Interrupting the moment and stealing what little courage you had left.

Your lashes flutter quickly as if shaking yourself from a daze, and you step back. Forcing distance between your bodies in an attempt to find clarity. 

Harry watches you go, expression hard and etched with frustration, while you swallow thickly and spin on your heel. 

He doesn’t call after you as you race to your car. Doesn’t insist on an answer or try to make you stay.

He merely stands there beneath the warm hue of the streetlamp, allowing you to run away, and disappear into your car before fleeing the scene.

Leaving him behind. 

Previous Part:

~ Always*

~ 404 Masterlist

~ Freaky Fun Masterlist

~ Main Masterlist

~ Blurb Masterlist

Amazing divider by @firefly-graphics! 💞

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @daphnesutton @love-letters-to-uranus @kirstiea05 @lovrave @princessprongs @nuggetdean @scndsofsummer @theofficialprongs

#harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry styles smut #harry edward styles #smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles concept #enemies to lovers!harry #404 harry #harry and tink #freaky fun #concept #corn maze #nerd!harry

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[fuckyeahisawthat]

I think Crowley falls into two of the classic pitfalls of people who see that the problems are systemic long before anyone else around them does: impatience and despair.

(Yes yes I know, “Crowley was an optimist.” Book Crowley is an optimist. I don’t think that line is particularly useful for analyzing TV Crowley. Stay with me here.)

Let it be said that 95% of the time, Crowley has the patience of a fucking saint (ssh don’t tell him) around Aziraphale. He knows that Aziraphale needs to build his little plausible deniability rationales in order to do something that they both know he wants to do (because it’s right or simply because he would enjoy it) but Heaven wouldn’t approve of. And most of the time, Crowley is happy to help Aziraphale get there, asking the questions Aziraphale is afraid to ask, offering excuses and justifications until Aziraphale finds one he can accept. He does a lot of work of parsing out when “no” means “you haven’t convinced me yet, keep trying” and pushing through all the “I’m an angel, you’re a demon, we’re on opposite sides and mine is the good one” talk that Aziraphale gets up to all the way through s1. Because he knows that Aziraphale doesn’t really believe that stuff, right? He just needs some time to talk himself around his own cognitive dissonance, and most of the time Crowley is not only happy to facilitate that but sees it as part of his role in their relationship.

But then when the chips are down and Aziraphale is still dithering, that’s when he gets frustrated, because HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE what’s been blindingly obvious to Crowley for millennia, that Heaven is just as cruel as Hell and no one is going to step in and fix it because the system is working as intended. And that’s when he says things like “how can someone as clever as you be so stupid?” Which is a surefire way not to convince the person you’re arguing with of anything.

And then there’s the despair. I really think the running away thing is not about cowardice or selfishness or some kind of unhealthy level of avoidance of hard or scary things, but about hopelessness. They’ve spent their lives avoiding very very real danger, and of the two of them Crowley is much more constantly aware of the danger that they are in from both sides. Yes he’s hypervigilant but he is also almost always right about the amount of danger they are in. Trying to get as far away from danger as possible is not an irrational response, even if it’s not always the correct one for a given situation.

When you feel like you’re the only person who sees how rotten the system is, how it needs to be dismantled entirely, but you are also VERY aware of how strong the people in power are and how ruthless they are about crushing dissent because you experienced it personally…well that gets fucking depressing after a while. Because even if you think the whole system needs to go, that feels like a completely unattainable goal when it seems like no one else even sees the problem, or if they see it, they are too afraid to do anything about it. And can you blame them? You know exactly what happens to people who speak up.

So it’s very easy for your goals to shrink from systemic change to just taking yourself and the people you love and finding somewhere for them to be as safe as possible, for as long as the system will let you exist. Because reforming the system is a fool’s errand, and dismantling it entirely seems impossible. I think this is where Crowley is at. Even if on some level he knows it’s an imperfect solution, because both of them have enough compassion that they would feel guilty abandoning Earth and humans to save themselves, and because Heaven and Hell really can find them anywhere in the universe. He just doesn’t see another option.

And look, I think Aziraphale is 100% wrong that Heaven can be reformed. But he is not wrong to want to stay and fight to make things better, even if it means sacrificing the Earthly comforts he loves so much, and even if it means doing it without Crowley by his side.

Ultimately they both need each other. Aziraphale needs Crowley for his willingness to ask questions and to see the scale of the problem, even if it’s terrifying. But Crowley needs Aziraphale for his hope, his stubborn determination to believe things can and should be better, and to fight for that. In the right hands, hope is an enormously powerful weapon.

#good omens #good omens s2 #crowley #my good omens meta

[prokopetz]

One of the more frequent anecdotes you'll hear from Dungeons & Dragons podcasters is that any time they switch to a system other than D&D, even for a one-off arc, they immediately experience a large drop in listenership – sometimes up to eighty percent! – only to see most of those listeners come back once they switch back to D&D.

What's interesting about this is that the greater part of D&D podcast listeners do not play Dungeons & Dragons. They might have a general idea of what the game's rules look like based on what they've been able to passively absorb from listening to the podcast, but they don't have regular groups, they don't own the rulebooks or maintain subscriptions to the e-book service, and many of them have never rolled a d20 in their lives.

How, then, do we account for that sudden drop in listenership? Why does which system a tabletop roleplaying podcast is using matter so much if most listeners neither know nor care about the rules?

The answer is, unfortunately, quite simple.

In many ways, advocacy for indie RPGs has never moved past Ron Edwards' infamous argument that playing Dungeons & Dragons causes actual, physical brain damage. Deep down, a lot of indie RPG advocacy seems to believe there's something sinister in the structure of D&D that's responsible for what they regard as its unaccountable popularity. You can see this in everything from the casual assumption that D&D players aren't "really" having fun (and all that's needed to convert them to other systems is to show them they've been tricked into falsely believing they're enjoying an objectively un-fun activity), to the rambling thinkpieces that talk about getting folks to try other games like they're liberating people from the fucking Matrix.

Yet we come back to the same problem: how can the mechanical structure of D&D be implicated for its culturally dominant position in the minds of those who've never picked up a twenty-sided die?

The truth is that Dungeons & Dragons enjoys cultural dominance, both within the hobby and elsewhere, because it's owned by the same multinational corporation that owns Monopoly and My Little Pony, and benefits from all the marketing strength its owner can bring to bear. The problem, in brief, is brand loyalty. The aforementioned podcasts lose listeners in droves whenever they give a non-D&D system a spin because all most of those departing listeners care about is whether the thing that they're listening to is called "Dungeons & Dragons". The structural particulars of the mechanics are irrelevant.

The bitter pill we've got to swallow as indie RPG authors is that we can't fix brand loyalty in tabletop RPGs by fucking around with the shape of the dice. There are lots of productive causes we can support to help address the problem, but they mostly have do to with intellectual property and antitrust regulations and such, which are areas where our finely honed ability to debate the correct way to pretend to be an elf is of very limited utility.

Like, I enjoy an abstruse argument about the ideology of dice-rolling as much as the next nerd, but let's not fool ourselves that we're speaking truth to power here. The gamer who just wants to roll dice to hit the dragon with their sword is not your enemy.

#gaming #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop rpgs #dungeons & dragons #d&d #hasbro #marketing #capitalism #violence mention #swearing

[iwonderwh0]

Another fic idea that I'll never write:

Connor accidentally transfers from his body and temporarily exists as non-physical entity in Hank's devices

Starts with situation where there's something that requires Connor to be connected to computer via cable (like for example to manually delete some CyberLife junk that slows down the system and lost its purpose) and needs Hank's help to be there and do what it takes, because Connor needs to be in stand by for this to work, so he's just sitting/lying next to him completely limp with caple connected to the back of his neck.

At some point something goes wrong and Hank's computer goes into restart, and when it loads Hank notices that first this CL maintenance program loads in, then blank text document opens on his computer and in a matter of seconds text appears, first some unreadable wall of symbols, then normal text, something along the lines of

"Hank, are you there? I'm afraid my program is running on your computer. I'm trying to move but I'm not sure if it's going through. Am I moving right now?"

Then

"If you're there please write something, I can't hear you."

Hank will stare at the screen, then at motionless Connor next to him, when he look back at the screen there'll be another couple of messages asking him to write something and from the way they're written and the speed at which new text appears it'll look like an escalating panic – from just asking Hank to write something it'll turn into begging to at least interact somehow with the computer, at some point within merely a second they'll start to appear too quickly to read. Hank'll grab keyboard and as fast as he can write something, maybe first just gibberish to write something asap, then delete it and write

"Connor?"

New wave of about a ten new lines of text will appear, most of which just repetition of the general message of "yes, I'm here"

"Can you hear me?" Hank will ask at loud, then type it after not getting any response

Another wave of lines of text with general message being "No, I can't hear you. I can't see you. I can't move." and "please don't leave me", desparation slipping through the lines

Hank will ask if he can do something to fix it

"I don't know" will appear on one line after another in some slight variations, then

"Can you connect some mic and headphones? I can't find any available."

Hank will look around the room, then type "wait, I'll go grab some" to which another wave of desperate "Please don't leave" appear in response, then "when will you get back?"

Unsure if he should go search for headphones at all Hank will type

"3 min"

Then search for headphones

"Connor?" He'll call again, hearing some noise his headphones "Hey, hey, can you hear me now?"

"Yes. I can hear you, but I can't move. I don't- I don't feel like I have any body at all"

"So you're in my computer... How did that-"

"Am I still connected?"

Hank moves to check that Connor has cable securely connected to the port on the back of his neck, and on the other side it's just as properly inserted into according port on the computer. He carefully moves Connor to confirm that one more time.

"Did you feel that?" Hank asks

"Feel what?"

After initial panic when both of them get slightly calmer they'll come to realisation that in order to allow the kind of changes they were about to make android's mind is basically temporarily transferred into another device, in their cases Hank's computer, but due to some mistake in process, computer went into a restart, so no transfer back occured + some component burned down making transfer back temporarily impossible (unless it's replaced). Or idk how it works, it's actually against my headcanons, but fuck it. The point is that this will take time to replace it, because it has to be ordered as something custom that can't be found as it is available the same day.

Without the need to move actual physical body (that occupies most of the resources) actual "mind" is not so big so it can even run on a phone, which is exactly what happens next. (Don't attack me, it's a silly little story idea, so let me have fun)

So for a couple of days or up to a week Connor exists within this non-physical predicament, learning ways to interact with other devices (like connecting to cameras that are within same network just to see something, although it's hard to understand the depth (regular cameras are sure different than the ones used for android's eyes)), surfing the web, etc. Basically like in the movie "Her"(2013) but as a temporary measure.

During this time Hank adopts a habit of wearing a headphones (or just one) at practically all times just to keep Connor a company while he's like that, because (at least at first) he's freaking out and is really opposed to the thought of being left alone even for a short time, because without a body and barely any inputs from the real world (compared to usual amount and quality) the experience is way too similar to non-existence and shit is understandably freaky. It seems like constantly having such a company, basically enduring someone else's presense at almost all times can rapidly become annoying and unbearable, but somehow it quickly becomes a second nature instead. In a way it's even nice. Consequently they talk more than ever, often ending up discussing something minor or ridiculous, something they'd never talked about otherwise, just because they're basically getting used to thinking out loud with a company.

Story ends with Hank finally replacing the component that got broken with a new one, allowing Connor to finally transfer back. The image of his body moving for the first time after being completely still for a relatively long period of time seems to me weirdly adorable. Being able to finally move and feel again must be similar to the feeling of wearing the right type of glasses for the first time after living with way too weak ones without realising how fucking blind you actually are. But yeah, it must be about 10 times better than that.

The first thing after finally being able to feel physically present like an actually existing person? A hug. Of course.

#dbh #Fic ideas that I'll never write #hankcon #probably (although it can be platonic. I mean there is literally no physical body in question) #pocket ghost

[shelbystales]

Best Aid - Part One

Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Summary:you are a young doctor in Birmingham. After a crazy incident, Thomas Shelby shows up at your hospital. You don't know much about the man everyone seems to fear, but you definitely will.

Warning: Swearing, surgery, mention of blood, violence

A/N: i don't know if i will continue this... comment and interact, tell me what you think! it means a looot thank you very much

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It was already mid-morning. You looked at your watch for the tenth time in less than a minute. Your shift seemed to last forever. Which was very strange since it was a full moon night, and it was common for doctors and nurses to joke that on a full moon things got so crazy that a werewolf could easily walk through the door.

"coffee?" Jeremy, one of the nurses on duty with you asked.

"Yes, please! Things are so slow," you complained, and he laughed

"You're the only one who complains about that," he said, handing you the horribly strong coffee

"Jesus, are you trying to kill me?" you asked, giving the coffee back to him while making a face "this is poison, not coffee," he laughed

"The stronger, the better," he said, and you shook your head in disapproval.

"He definitely doesn't know how to make coffee. haven't you learned yet, y/n?" Lauren, a nurse for years at this hospital, spoke, leaning on the counter in front of you.

"yeah, lack of sleep makes you forget stuff," you said

"Go rest. we hold the ends here," she suggested, and you smiled considering her proposal.

You were new to the hospital, new to medicine in general. you had just finished your residency program in London and because of your mother's failing health, you decided to return to Birmingham and help your brothers and sisters to take care of her.

It had been less than two months since you had been accepted as an emergency and surgery doctor. being a rookie, all the night shifts on weekends were yours. at the end of that shift, it will be 36 hours since you haven't entered your house and you would still have to do the day shift before you go.

Looking around you saw how empty the emergency room was. two people arrived earlier, a teenager with an alcoholic coma and a child with rotavirus. two classics.

"Well, I think I'll accept this proposal and I'll take a nap. Call me as soon as someone walks through that door" you said getting up.

"Sure thing," they said.

Jeremy propped his feet up on the counter and grabbed his cell phone to watch something and Lauren rolled her eyes sitting next to him and opening her book.

You've decided to get the patient's parameters before going to bed. Make sure they were stable.

both of them seemed fine, while you wrote down the parameters in your tablet's system the doors to the emergency center opened

"I need some bloody fucking help here!" a man with a mustache and a strong accent yelled.

You left your tablet on an empty bed and ran outside. Jeremy ran after you pushing a stretcher.

Outside you came face to face with a black BMW X3 and inside it, in the back seat, a man was unconscious. You got partially into the car trying to have the best access to analyze the man

"What happened?" you asked one of the two men who were with him.

"Just bloody fix him, alright?" the other man spoke nervously

from the quick analysis, you assumed he had taken a beating, but you didn't know the extent of the damage. on the stethoscope, the lung and heart appeared clean and functioning normally. His heart rate was a little faster than normal, perhaps because of the bleeding

"Hey, can you hear me?" you asked the man in an attempt to get attention, trying to gauge where he was on the Glasglow coma scale.

With your flashlight, you quickly assessed his neurological status and noticed that the pupils were not reactive. He was a 3, with no eye response, no motor response, and no verbal response.

"Okay, let's get him inside and straight to CT," you said getting out of the car and hanging your stethoscope around your neck again. Jeremy moved to put him on the stretcher "the pupils are not responsive. lungs clear. heart beating fast, but it could be due to the bleeding" you were talking to Lauren, who had the tablet in her hand filling out his form "what is your name?" you asked the two men.

"Arthur, this is John," the man who came through the door shouting said "that's our brother Tommy" you nodded.

"I need you to pass your social data to her," you said indicating to Lauren, and walked into the hospital, Jeremy already in front of you.

In CT you saw intense bleeding caused by trauma, causing compression of the third cranial nerve and the upper brain stem. hence the pupils and the loss of consciousness. Now you were worried, the bleeding was extensive and looked bad.

"Ok, we need to act fast. Prep an OR. We don't know how long he's been like this" you said leaving the cabin and going to get ready for surgery.

you are not a neurosurgeon, but intracranial pressure reduction is a simple procedure and necessary until a real evaluation by the neurologist.

The surgery went well. the blood inside the skull was drained, relieving the pressure and you directed him to the ICU, for better follow-up.

After him, cases didn't stop coming in and you didn't stop for a minute.

you looked at the clock on your wrist as you bandaged a man who had been stabbed in the arm, you were glad that it was already eight o'clock and the number of staff was returning to normal so you could take thirty minutes just to lie down and put your legs up.

"We survived another apocalypse," Jeremy said stopping beside you and you smiled

"yeah, lucky us," you said tiredly

"Weeell, good luck in here. I'm going home to my husband!" he said

"thank you, I've never been so jealous of you," you said jokingly and he walked away with a huge smile.

The residents arrived and you gave them the night's cases. you encouraged them to think logically and critically. dividing them into groups so that each one stayed with a patient, studying the case and what could have been done differently while new cases did not emerge.

Few residents were interested in trauma, and they gradually dispersed to other areas throughout the day, but when they arrived they always looked for trauma because it was the only busy place in the hospital.

Two residents stuck with you all day, shadowing you. Their names are Davi and Megan. Both are desperate for knowledge.

"I have a special case for you," you said handing the tablet to them "A beaten man arrives without much information about what happened. What do you do?" you asked, as you walked down the hall

"the Glasgow thing," Davi said and you smiled and nodded

"Score 3 on the Glasgow thing," you said imitating him

"Shit... hm" he stopped thoughtfully "how long was he unconscious?"

"Don't know, he arrived unconscious" you replied "his brothers did not give much information"

"CT scan or X-ray" Megan added and he nodded supporting her answer

"Good. You see extensive intracranial bleeding" you said

"Surgery," the two said together and you nodded opening the door in front of you

"Look who's awake," you said smiling.

The blacked out man from the night before was now looking and talking to his brothers who were sitting on the small sofa next to the bed.

"How are you feeling?" You asked, standing at the foot of his bed while Megan and David prowled around him and examined him.

"Well... better than I look" he replied looking strangely at his residents.

"They're just checking your parameters" you explained

"Can I smoke?" he asked

"No you can't. Not here" you replied

"Can he drink?" one of the brothers asked

"John, right?" he nodded "no, he can't" you replied

"You just as good as dead, brother," Arthur said and you frowned.

Megan handed over the tablet to you with all the information. everything was normal.

"Do you have any questions?" you asked your residents

"When can I get out of here?" Thomas asked

"When will he get out?" you asked the two next to you

"Depends on your response to post-surgery," Davi said sounding a little unsure, and you nodded "could be in a day or two, or a week"

"I'll stay a day," he said

"hm, we recomment you follow our order and stay for as long as it’s necessary, but you do have your choices" you exhaled "ok, so... No questions to the patient kids?" they were silent, which you thought was strange, but you continued "did you feel any dizziness, shortness of breath, or sudden tiredness?" he shook his head "nausea?" same response "did you try to stand up?" he denied again "good, don't try yet. pee in the potty" you took the potty and put it on the bed "Need anything you press the button. If you feel anything different, press the button. Okay?" he nodded and you left the room

"Is that really Thomas Shelby?" Davi asked, surprising you

"Who?" you asked confused

"You don't know him?" Megan asked "working-class man, now one of the richest around? been on the media before being suspected of multiple crimes" she said as she was telling you a dirty secret

"Shit. You serious?" you asked and she nodded "well, we have to treat everyone the same. despite, all that... we made a vow, right?" they nodded

"I won't go in there alone," Davi said and you smiled "he scares the shit out of me"

"But he's hot," Megan said and you rolled your eyes

"Why don't you guys go scrub in some surgery, hm? we are done here" you said and they walked away.

Lying on the bed in the staff room, you felt exhausted. 

Picking up your cell phone you did what anyone would do, googled Thomas Shelby. being surprised and intrigued by what you saw.

--/--

After sleeping for a few hours, you went on with your rounds. Lunch was being served and as you passed by Shelby's room you noticed the food was still outside.

"Why is this here?" you asked the nurse passing by

"No one wants to get in there. He's rude," she answered honestly and walked away.

You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath. picking up the platter with the food and walking into the room. He was alone now and his eyes opened when you walked in.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," you said

"Wasn't sleeping" he replied

"Good, here is some delicious food for you. Try not to puke" you said putting it in front of him and he smiled

"Looks good," he said "why are you bringing me this? Don't you have nurses for this?"

"We do, but people don't seem to want to get in here. For some reason you scare them" you said, looking at the monitor.

"But not you?" he asked

"Well, I just opened your head. What color was your urine?" you asked and he smiled

"Yellow?" he replied uncomfortably

"Too yellow?" you asked enjoying seeing him cringe

"I guess" he replied

"Was it a lot to urine or a little?"

"Normal...?"

"Poop?"

"No" he replied embarrassed taking the food in front of him

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" you joked and he didn't answer "Good" you smiled "The neurologist was here earlier to test you right?"

"he was" he replied "Am I in trouble?"

"No, all looks good. We acted fast so you won’t have any long lasting symptoms. Maybe you will feel some signs of a light concussion for a few days" you replied "no nausea right?"

"No, I feel good. ready for another one" he said

"Yeah...don't," you said and he smiled

"Hey, can you take me outside for a smoke?" he asked

"You shouldn't smoke, but yes I can. Let me just grab the wheelchair" you said leaving the room.

When you came back he had only eaten the jello and the apple

"Not hungry?" you asked stopping with the chair next to him

"Chicken is disgusting," he said and you smiled

"Okay, let's go?"

He nodded and you helped him up. as he stood up his body softened and he looked like he was going to faint, but he leaned on the bed and with your help he sat down in the chair. You took your flashlight and looked into his eyes, both reacted normally.

"What are you feeling?" you asked crouching in front of him

"The things you’ve been insisting on. Nausea and dizziness" he replied and took a deep breath "fuck" he muttered as he rubbed his face

You got some water and a sickness pill and handed it to him. When he said he was better you pushed him out of the room and into the area outside the hospital.

The hospital had a very pleasant green area for patients and visitors. You sat on a concrete bench in front of him and took a deep breath enjoying the outside air as he lit his cigarette.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing what doctors do?" he asked and you smiled

"Well, my pager has been quiet. I think they're taking it easy on me today since its my fourth shift in a row" you replied "and if you were nicer to the nurses they would have brought you here sooner"

"If I was nicer to people I would be here more often" he replied

"Maybe, maybe not... who knows" you shrugged

"You're new here aren't you?" he asked and you nodded "yeah...last time I was here a hairy man took care of me" you laughed

"Well I don't know any hairy man," you said amused

"yeah... He was fired," he said

"Why?" you asked confused

"He... I don't know" he said as if he had changed his mind mid-sentence.

"You do, you just don't want to tell me," you said and he shook his head "ok..." Your pager beeped and you looked at it "oh no. I have to go" looking around you took the first nurse that passed in front of you "he won't do you any harm, just take him to his room when he's done" you said taking her to him "be nice" you warned him and ran away

--/--

As your final act, you only had to pass the shift to the next doctor, telling him about the new patients and everything that had happened. Once that was done you changed into your normal clothes.

Walking out of the hospital you passed in front of Thomas' room and saw that there was a man inside with him. Looking at your watch, it was almost eight and visiting hours were over.

Opening the door you entered "ey, Visiting hours are over. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave"

"Who the fuck are you?" the man standing asked rudely

"I'm his doctor," you said not liking the man’s tone

"It's ok, y/n. Just go" Thomas said but you frowned

"The hospital have rules. You can come see him in the morning. If you don't leave now I'll call security," you said and the man laughed

"Don't bother" he said and left the room staring at you as he walked through the door

"Shouldn't have done that" Thomas said

"It's my job. You can't have people here after visiting hours for a reason" you said

"He is not my visitor," he said

"What is he then?" you asked and he looked at the window ignoring your question "fine. just don't do it again" you turned to leave

"Does your house have security?" he asked

"what?" you asked confused looking at him

"That man did this" he pointed at himself "Do your house have security?" he asked and you frowned

"I guess" you replied and he smirked

"You guess?" he asked "My brothers are outside. Ask them to drive you to your home and tell them to check it"

"Is it necessary?" you asked nervously

"Look at me and tell me what you think" he said

"But I did nothing!" you spoke

"Maybe...better safe than sorrow right?" he said and you looked confused at him "just do it"

You left the hospital, deciding to ignore the Shelby request. You did nothing wrong. You had no relation with them. There was no reason for you to be afraid.

To your surprise, Arthur was waiting for you by your car. he smiled as you approached.

"Thomas called," he said, "should we go in our car or yours?"

"How do you know that's my car?" You asked

"It's easy to find out anything about people these days," he said "if you want we can meet you at your house?"

"Do you know where I live?" you asked worried and he nodded "I don't like this. How can I be sure that at the moment I get inside my car you won't kill me?" he laughed

"Listen ey, our brother is worried you will pay for something you had nothing to do with. you just got in the middle of a big dog's fight" he said "he doesn't want you dead, you saved him" you continued in silence, thinking "we will just go there and see if there are cameras and things in your apartment. If you say no we will go anyways... we will only have more trouble getting in"

"Ok," you said feeling without much option "I'll go in my car and you will go in yours"

"Sounds good," he said and walked away

In your apartment building, you let him in. he walked around and broke into the security room

"I'll get evicted after this," you said and he laughed

"No you won't" he replied "Cameras are working," he said after being inside for a few minutes "you should be fine"

"Thanks?" you said "can I ask why? What did I do?"

"Well you saved his life and you told the man who tried to take it that you saved his life... Did you also threaten him with security? how cute" He said

"That doesn't soud so bad" you spoke

"Yeah… but like I said you got in the middle of a big dog fight. Things are heated up right now. Anything can become a motive" he said, and said goodbye to you.

He left and you went up to your apartment, feeling very confused. Could it be the lack of sleep making you hallucinate? before you could take a shower you were sleeping.

#fluff #peakyblinders #blinders #cillianmurphy #fanfic #arthurshelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #john shelby #masterlist #oneshot #tommy shelby x reader thomas shelby x reader #tommy Shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby fanfic #tommyshelby #peaky blinders fanfic #polly gray

[dreadsuitsamus]

If you do requests, can we see some fluff headcanons with DBS Broly? Please??

i'll give it a shot! i have had broly on the brain since watching dbs broly haha idk if you want strictly headcanons or a sort of story in headcanon form so i'll try out both and see what works best for me (i love to worldbuild 🙈)

DBS Broly x Reader Story Headcanons

You meet Broly when you crash land onto his planet after losing a fire fight that screwed up your navigation system

He's alone on the planet, and goes to investigate the crash site when you land

You've been knocked unconscious by the impact, so he pulls you out of the ship and takes you to the shelter given to him by Goku

When you wake up, you're confused about your surroundings, when you see Broly you startle him with your gasp of fear

He looks scared too, so you apologize and ask him what happened

His voice is soft and he doesn't meet your eyes when he tells you how he took you to his shelter after you crashed

"Oh... Thank you so much. What's your name?"

"My name is Broly."

He's large but so SWEET

You assure him you'll do your best to fix your ship and be on your way as soon as possible

He doesn't say anything in response, but his eyes look lonely

You soon learn that it's because he's the only one on this planet. He doesn't give many details as to why, just that his friends that lived with him left some time ago, but at least they still visit

He takes you to your crashed ship and stands stoicly as you diagnose the issues

In essence, shit's fucked

"If it can even be fixed, it'll take me a long time to find a way to do it with the resources I have."

Broly offers his assistance whenever needed, often in the form of lifting the heavy things

He spends every waking moment with you while you work on the ship, asking questions when he feels curious

You enjoy his interest in your project and you answer every question in earnest, loving the pleased look on his face when you talk to him

When it becomes too late to work anymore, you and Broly go home to his shelter in the cave

Broly has plenty of provisions, but as you sit on the couch after a shower, you realize he doesn't know how to properly utilize what he's got in the pantry

"Here Broly, let me show you a few things."

Broly is amazed at the meal you cook, politely asking for seconds when he finishes the first bowl of chili

You laugh and fix him another plate. "You don't gotta ask, hon! It's your food, after all."

That doesn't stop him from asking for another serving at every meal

You sleep on the couch and Broly sleeps in his bedroom, but he leaves his bedroom door open

He has trouble sleeping, so usually for an hour or so he'll just talk with you or watch a movie on the couch until you're both ready for bed

One night you fall asleep during a movie, your body curled up at an awkward angle

Broly stands and gently lays you into a better position for your neck, and pulls the blanket over you. He whispers a soft goodnight and goes to his room, but he doesn't sleep

He thinks of you all night, and wonders why he has a fuzzy feeling in his chest

Each day he watches you patch up the ship, his stomach has an odd ache

Eventually you hit a wall and need a specific part that you can't repair, so you're as good as stranded on the planet now

Though you're not as bummed about it as you probably should be, for some reason

When you tell Broly what's going on, the ache in his stomach disappears

After a couple months of being stuck on the planet, a man named Goku pays a visit

Turns out he's the one who brings Broly his provisions. He's a kind man and when you explain how you ended up on the planet, he offers to help out and get the part you need

You write down exactly what it is you need, along with a few other supplies that would help you finish faster

Goku smiles and leaves with the list, promising to return with the supplies when he got them

At dinner, Broly is pushing his food around rather than eating it. And after realizing just the appetite he has, you find it extremely odd

"Does it not taste good?" You pout

"It does." His voice is soft, and his eyes have that lonely look again

"What's wrong then?" You put down your fork and put your hand to the center of the table

"I... Do not want you to leave."

HE'S BLUSHINGGGGGGG

"Why's that?"

"I don't want to be alone again."

The next time these so-called "friends" visit, you're going to beat them to a pulp

Before you can even respond, Broly starts up again

"My chest feels fuzzy when I see you. And my stomach hurts when I think about you leaving."

Your cheeks heat up. "Broly..."

He takes your hand and meets your eyes. He's tearing up. "Please don't leave." He whispers.

You smile and squeeze his hand. "Okay, Broly. I'll stay."

His smile is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen

Fluff Headcanons

Broly has no idea what to do in a relationship, so you have to teach him

Luckily, he's a quick study and soon understands his feelings and how to turn those feelings into actions

Broly is a bit confused, but he's got the romantic spirit when he brings you a bunch of the planet's native flowers

Said flowers are poisonous, you soon discover, but you assure Broly anyway that you love them as your hands are covered in blotchy, itchy red patches

Broly loves to cuddle. You can't remember the last time you actually sat on the couch cushion instead of Broly's lap

He hardly ever watches the movies you put on anymore. He loves to hide his face in the crook of your neck and hold you closely, as if you were a teddy bear

You, however, are certainly not complaining. You'll reach back and play with his hair when he does this, and you're pretty sure he's purring when you do it

His cheeks burn red when you turn your head and place a kiss somewhere on his face though

So, naturally, you do it often

Keeping true to his nature as a quick study, he picks up how to kiss after just a couple make-out sessions

He's intuitive to what you like, so when he finds that sensitive spot on your back, he uses it

It catches you off guard every time. You'll be in bed kissing and then suddenly his fingers brush over that spot, making you giggle and shiver

He smiles at you like you're a goddess every time he does it

When you tell him you love him (and explain what it means) he catches you in a bear hug and cries softly into your shirt. You hold him closely and shed tears of your own

Once he's collected himself, he promptly tells you he loves you too

Broly admires everything about you, always watching you do even the most mundane of tasks, like washing the dishes or folding laundry

You watch him when he trains outside, bringing him a drink and a snack when you feel he should take a break.

He immediately halts training when he sees you coming close to him, and he gives you a sweet kiss before he accepts the snack

Broly likes when you play with his hair, but he absolutely loves it when you brush it. He's so relaxed and he has a wistful smile with each stroke of the brush

You presume he must be a cat in another life

Broly loves holding your hand. He's so much bigger than you and he enjoys the sight of your smaller hand in his.

He feels extremely protective of you. Anytime you go outside he's with you, he won't hesitate to demolish any beast that comes your way

Broly's affection goes up a thousand percent after he kills whatever attempted to attack you

He holds you tightly and takes you right back home and holds you for hours, not letting you go until you ask him to

If it takes him even a fraction of effort to kill, sometimes you'll have to ask him twice to release you. Though he looks so hurt and scared when you ask too soon, so you always give him at least one hour to cuddle

Not that you tend to want to be let go anyway, since he's so warm and strong

Broly doesn't ever sleep very long, but sometimes you wake up before he does and you just watch him sleep, memorizing each detail of his face

You kiss him as soon as he starts to stir, surprising him for just a moment before he returns the kiss in kind

Cheelai and Lemo make their first visit since you crashed onto the planet while you're cooking dinner for Broly

He's happy to see them, but you keep true to your word and beat them both up

Broly knows he should stop you, but something is oddly satisfying about you defending his honor

Broly puts his hands on your shoulders as he stands behind you once you're done, and speaks to his friends as if nothing happened

They stay for dinner, and once they leave Broly kisses you like never before.

"I love you so much."

He says so every day, so you know he means it

end note: this was probably not what you were looking for and definitely too long, but i thank you for your request anyway! i like to explore different means of writing beyond a full-fledged fic, so this was a nice test to see what i enjoy! i hope you like what i've written anyway, anon ☺️

#broly x reader #dbs broly x reader #broly #dbs broly #headcanons #i think lol #requests #anonymous #i would like to snuggle with broly #fic

[el-ly-sha-give-no-f]

Crash on a rookie year

Author note: okay this is it after my second time writing this, still pissed off actually, IYKYK, right, this is my first fic that is not requested by anyone, so I don't give you permission to repost on Wattpad, AO3 e.t.c, sorry for the delay, I hope you guys enjoy reading this if anything in this fic that sounds stupid and doesn't make sense, just ignore it because I can't imagine what happens if it's in real life, I replace Lando with the reader and I made Zak little bit of bad guy, no offence though! thank you!!! <3 love ya and stay safe.

heavy angst and fluff at the end

TW: car crash! smoke! hospitals! ambulance!

PAIR: F1 x McLaren!Reader

WORDS: as usual, I don't know but quite long.

Monaco. One of the most hardcore and challenging circuit for me. Indeed. being the first female that joins the modern F1 world is hectic, Sexism and Body shaming are everywhere and anywhere. But you need to be just smart and ignore it.

currently, all the drivers are on the grid.

"hello y/n, radio check, did you hear me?" I heard my team race engineer voice, asking and checking the radio system.

"yup loud and clear Tom" I reply

"Great, are you okay? Is there any wrong with the car or anything ? we still have time to fix it"

"Nothing, all good as usual it's lovely, but my helmet clip kinda loose but I can live with it," I told him

"Okay do your best for team y/n, Daniel made a bet, if you get high position than him, he treats us a drink" we both laugh at Daniel's bet.

"deal, we'll get the drink everybody, and podium too" I fling back.

RACE START!

AUDIENCE POV

"Monaco everybody! The race just starts as you can see on your screen. Hamilton on the front, OH! there she is! our McLaren driver, she shines like a star everybody! from P4 to P2! she just did the double overtakes cars just like that, the last time we saw someone did like this is Sebastian Vattel, this woman is crazy, let's see who's is the driver that she passed. Her success to cut Charles Leclerc and Pierre Gasly while her teammate is behind her which makes both of them on top three! its a good start for McLaren"

"currently position is, Hamilton P1, Y/LN P2 and Ricciardo P3"

"y/n, P2 Y/N, you both did a fantastic job, hope you guys can hold this position till we give you a green light to cut Mr Hamilton that in front of you" ask Tom.

"HeHe, Not a problem sir, I hold your words!" I return happily

"Good! By the way, Daniel said you are crazy, good job y/n"

"I am and he too! thanks to you guys" I fling my words back to him before focussing on the track again.

"y/n, you're 6 second behind Hamilton, do you think you can move from P2 to P1?"

"I think I can manage with that Tom" I response

"Okay go ahead, it's a green light from us and Zak too, he said you can do it, but Y/n do it carefully" Tom declare

"awh you care about me Tom" I joke

"Heh, Silly you y/n of course! now go shines again"

"yup looks like P1 gonna be ours this time" The feeling of exited makes me more confident to move in front of Lewis, while people at the paddock waiting for me passionately hoping I can do it. My heart starts to pound.

"Let's see, Lewis" I mumble before starting to drive to the right side of his car. My foot started to press the pedal harder to increase the speed, Im was halfway through his car. This is it, my first podium.

Mine exited only happen for a second when suddenly our Sir Lewis Hamilton start defending his current position by moving to the right side by means where im currently on, which makes our car tyres touch with each other. I try to not exaggerate this accident by turning my car to the left side but fail.

"for fuck sake Lewis"

"my tyre"

im mumble before trying to stabilize my car but again fail, my head begins to spin same goes for my car that currently spinning 360°. Well, didn't expect my car to turn upside down over and over again until it stop which is the result that made me crash into the barrier and upside down.

AUDIENCE POV

"oh, no looks like something bad just happened, our McLaren driver y/n y/l/n crash! seems like its a very heavy crash"

I can't hear anything except Tom's "robotic" voice echo through my earpiece.

"oh god" I groan

"y/n....y/n, swi-tc-h...o-ff...th-e ca-r"

"I can't, im upside down, and my helmet is gone, need help here" I just inform them even though I know they can't hear me

I start to smell smoke when I start to look around, I see smoke starting to wash over my car instead of Monaco's fresh air.

I look down and see some red liquid dropping on the crushed rock below my head, I suspect it is the blood that comes out of my body but I look again if I mistake it with my car oil, but what kind of oil is red.

"I think Im bleeding" hoping Tom hearing me

-----just a little tiny time skip-----

For almost 2 minutes I've been upside down, still never heard a safety car or medical team sirens yet, my head starts to fill dizzy due to the upside-down situation, I've discovered where the blood coming from.

it's from the wound on my head. I think it's because my helmet has gone while I turn upside down over and over again.

slowly body slowly become numb and my eyes slowly close.

AUDIENCE POV

"is y/n out of her car? is it a red flag? if its a red flag, we going to start this race over again, got to rid all of the debries from the track, let's see y/n and Lewis crash recap"

RECAP

"due to y/n crash place that is quite far from where safety car and medical team at, it's going to take some time to get her out of the car, we just got an info that the race is going to start over again, its a red flag"

"oh, there we go, as we can see right now y/n teammate, Daniel Ricciardo itself, running to y/n car and switching off her car, is it off? yes? Daniel Ricciardo's success to turn it off everybody"

camera showing from afar that Daniel sign a thumb down to the medical team that had just arrived but was far away from the scene and Daniel screamed telling them to come over and help.

DANIEL POV

As I saw y/n and Lewis collide with each other, the only thing that I thought is how is she and if it was just me right now on the track? y/n has been my best friend since forever, it makes me scared when I saw her crash in front of my eyes.

I had time to dodge them and saw Lewis back on track.

"fuck is she okay? awake?" I ask Tom's concern

"We don't know, we can't get a response from her and we disconnect from her radio system" Tom answers

"God y/n, did you guys send the medical team? is it a red flag"

"Yeah, but its kinda late for them to arrive to y/n place quite far away and nope, not yet"

I take a quick breath

"oh fuck it" I swear before safely making a U-turn not to crash another driver, and drive to where y/n car crashed.

"Daniel, what are you doing?"

this time is not Tom asking, it's Zak Brown itself asking. AS I CARE!

when I arrive the first thing see is her crashed wreaked badly and I can see the smoke surrounding her car, when I got out of my car I quickly sprint to her and crouch down to switch her car off. I feel something dripping on my hand until I look up and see y/n head bleeding.

"Daniel I ask you again what are you doing?! let her be! the medical team will arrive, and it's not even a red flag!" I heard Zak screaming through my earpiece.

"YET!, im saving somebody's daughter and my best friend, she's bleeding!" I reply, Im in a squat position, trying to unbelt her seatbelt and hold her by her stomach, so as to not make her fall, after how minutes of trying cause her seatbelt is stuck, I realize it's impossible to get her out from small space, I try and suddenly Y/n start to wake up.

"Hey hey! Y/n, listen to me, Im trying to get you out from here, and I want you not to panic okay?" I ask her and all she can give me is a nod in confusion.

"Great, so here is what we're gonna do, I need you to get out of this car, and get out through this small space, can you do that for me I hold you okay? get your head out first"

As Y/n slowly do what I ask her to do, her back already touches the crushed rock on the ground Im trying to shield her head from the small rocks.

Gratefully, she succeeded to get out of her car, as we were both a bit far away from the car, I started to carry her over my shoulder and run to the Medical team that bring a stretcher toward us as we get closer I lay her back on the stretcher, and the Medical team carry her inside the ambulance.

"you still told me to continue the race and just hoping the medical team to arrive and get her out of the car? she could have been dead, you don't know shit about her condition! eh, Zak?"

all I can hear is Zak groan.

AUDIENCE POV

" Daniel Ricciardo her teammate carrying y/n body out from her car, when I said it's a red flag everybody, it is a bad crash, we can see y/n is bleeding right now, let's see some of drivers reaction to this incident right now"

(imagine their reaction cause I can't find shit)

I don't know what happened after I got into the ambulance, I guess I passed out. I can feel im lying on a bed right now, definitely not my hotel bed, cause this one feels uncomfortable.

I try to open my eyes but fail, I blinded by the light for a moment. I try again and again till my eyes fully open, I feel someone holding my left hand, and as I turn my head to the left, I see Daniel my life best friend is sleeping while his head on the bed.

I smile, now im remember he saved my life and gets me out of my car, and carry me to the medical team. God Daniel.

I let him sleep a little more, I let him rest.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Daniel has been helping me a lot when im in hospital, Lewis and Toto came and pay me a visit, they apologise for what happened, and I just said this all is not their fault, its nobody's fault, obviously, they glad that im okay, but Zak kinda not happy with Dan and im definitely gonna defend him(Daniel), that old man I swear to god.

Right now Dan talking to me while I look at me and I thought, I surely gonna tell my kids one day about this........

our kids.

YEYHEHEHHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHI plot twist mathafacka, oh my gad im glad this time my laptop is not turning off, so what did you guys think? is it good? is it too nonsense? Comment please and I try to do my best in the future! thanks for reading my first fic! I love you guys, thank you and stay safe <3

#f1 x you #f1 one shot #formula one x reader #imagine #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo #f1 fanfic #mclaren

[dangerous-advantage]

concerning the new changes (07.10.23)

all right fuck it i wasn't gonna do this but then i ended up filling the tags on the post i reblogged.

so here's my thoughts on staff's 'Tumblr's Core Product Strategy" post and the things that i think could actually be good!... if staff respects tumblr's culture in implementing them.

to note, i am referring to this post. for better context, please go read the whole thing and try not to skip details, since i think it's important to understand the post through your own perspective if you want to participate in the conversation.

this post worried me at first, both because changes in the tumblr ecosystem with as much weight as this post carries have, historically, been pretty bad for the userbase.

starting off with a focus on creating a larger user base and inviting more, new creators rather than with a strong plan to focus on improving the current state of tumblr sets off alarm bells.

reading through the rest of it leaves me with... mixed thoughts. while it honestly does seem like they've heard a lot of the things we've been screaming at them about and might actually take steps to make things improve, i'm still wary.

this isn't a post explaining specific changes tumblr plans to implement. in fact, there are relatively few examples of actual strategies being communicated. it's just an overview with a lot of implications for the future.

i mean, not even the new tumblr labs group has any idea what the exact changes are going to be. just look at this:

[ID: A screenshot containing text from a post made by the aforementioned account. It reads, "But we're not sure exactly what that change looks like, so we've assembled a new team, called Tumblr Labs, to figure it out as quickly..." It cuts off here. /End ID]

and i think that's the problem.

so, the post. staff explains that the issue, as they see it, is that the platform is fundamentally flawed-- i.e., because tumblr is difficult to use if you don't have an understanding of the site before, it tends to scare off new users rather than encourage engagement.

this isn't untrue. however, it should be noted, the tumblr userbase has cultivated a culture of teaching newcomers how the website and the website's culture functions. (see: the many posts made as 'guides' in the wake of the twitter and reddit fiascos, as well as @/strange-aeon's video on the topic.)

(not to say that this system isn't imperfect and could be improved by directing new users to the these posts, buuuuuuut i'll get into that later.)

now: i (and i think most of the userbase) agree with staff on the main point-- tumblr, as a platform, is broken. we have long complained about the bugs and the messy reblog chains and the notifications overwhelming you if a post gains traction.

(though, we've also just integrated that into tumblr culture, but that's a tangent for a different time.)

here's the thing: staff does mention these things as problems they want to fix.

here's a short list of some things the post mentions that i honestly agree are a problem, and that a lot of people have wanted to see change!

[ID: Screenshots of items taken from the bulleted lists on staff's post. These read as follows: "Improving Tumblr's search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards." "Making it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread." "Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral." "Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.""Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users." /End ID]

again, these are things that i agree are issues and would be cool to see improved upon. but staff doesn't tell us how they plan to do this.

in staff's response to the userbases' assumption that they're going to remove the reverse-chronological dashboard, they state they're 'surprised' users came away with this assumption.

i, for one, am not.

the relationship between tumblr staff and the tumblr collective has been strained for a long time. mounting frustrations about users' actual issues with the website being ignored while new features are implemented that are almost unanimously disliked doesn't help.

and don't forget, the last time a change as drastic as this post is making it seem came into action, the porn ban was implemented. a change that had an overall negative effect on the community and tumblr's culture at large. it tore away crucial aspects of tumblr's identity that we'll probably never get back.

so while this post does address issues users have wanted to see fixed, of course we're still going to be wary.

the bottom line is, users don't trust staff to implement changes that will be beneficial to improving the platform for the tumblr userbase. (the recent reddit and twitter debacles don't help things much, either.)

i think staff needs to realize, as the final poster put it, tumblr already has innate value. value created by the community.

if staff focuses on improving tumblr to be easier to use-- in accordance with elevating tumblr's culture-- it will attract more people, simply by being less broken all the time.

this brings me to the other (main) issue i have: putting new users first over the current userbase.

this may not have been what staff meant to imply, but the emphasis seems to be on improving the userbase for incoming users, rather than those of us who are already here.

to be clear, i don't think that making tumblr easier to navigate for new users is bad. i mean, there's a reason we were writing guides. joining tumblr if you aren't already exposed to it can be daunting.

allowing new users to rely on an actual, working algorithm (although i think a user-driven algorithim is possibly one of the best parts of tumblr) isn't inherently bad. using that algorithim to elevate new creators isn't bad, either.

it's the way they choose to do this that makes us wary. like i mentioned before, we already have somewhat of a system for on-boarding new users to the site: word of mouth from more experienced users. this helps with both learning how to navigate tumblr and introducing new users to tumblr culture.

with all this in mind: where do we go from here?

in my mind, the solution for these problems comes down to communication. if staff wants more trust from the tumblr userbase, they need to show they are willing to listen to feedback from the tumblr collective.

when implementing changes, a great way to avoid the immediate backlash and distrust of tumblr users is by clearly outlining the changes they plan to make and the strategies by which they will be carried out.

another user made the analogy that websites should be like cities, where the users have a say in (as staff puts it) the 'evolution of tumblr.'

(mmmmmaybe we could use that spiffy new poll feature, too? everybody loves polls!)

for on-boarding new users, staff could take inspiration from the userbase in implementing a system by which new users are given the information needed to navigate tumblr. tidy up the site, remove bugs, and make it easier to use, and a lot of problems will sort themselves out.

then, we can go from there.

regarding the rest of the stuff i brushed over, i don't feel i can really say much without knowing what they actually plan to do, or where they plan to go with these things.

for example, here's another list of images of things from the post that i am cautiously intrigued by, but am worried will be improved for the worse:

[ID: Another series of images, showing more of the items listed in staff's post. They read as follows: "Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs." "Get creators' new content in front of people who are interested in it." "Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting." "Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs." "Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds." /End ID.]

the bottom line is this: if staff wants the support of the userbase in upcoming changes, they need to show that they respect and value us and the culture at large. in my opinion, staff has made strides in embracing tumblr culture, but we need to know these changes are not just motivated by profit.

if staff intends to keep it's current users, they need to to recognize that we deserve a say in this, too.

without the userbase, tumblr wouldn't exist. end of story. we are what keep tumblr alive. as stated before, expanding the userbase is not a bad thing. but doing so to the detriment of tumblr's culture is.

in this regard, i do truly hope that staff means what they said in the conclusion of their original post:

[ID: An image of the conclusion of staff's post. It reads: "Our mission has always been to empower the world's creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that priotitizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we--" The words then cut off. /End ID]

so, @staff. if you really do believe this: prove it.

#(btw i would love to hear other peoples thoughts on this as well) #there are a million more things i could get into but this post is already ungodly long #so unless staff somehow listens to user feedback and actually communicates their plans for the future #take this as an overview of my thoughts #tw long post #long post #hellsite #tumblr culture #staff #not fandom #hell site analytics #described

[porterdavis]

All in the family

I finally broached the subject of Fox News and the Big Lie with my Trumper sister. As I suspected, being a Fox-only viewer, she had never even heard of the Dominion lawsuit and exposure of Fox and its 'talent' as bald-faced liars. Here's what I wrote her in response:

I know it must be hard to realize there is a TV network that to all outward appearances is a normal news outlet but is in actuality a sophisticated propaganda operation. Trump, as Joseph Goebbels before him, knew that if you repeat a lie enough times people will believe it because...well...they've heard it so many times it just must be true. Fox follows the same strategy.

Trump's inauguration had the biggest crowd ever. Remember that? The lying started on the first day. Crime is rising and out of control. Cities are too dangerous to go out at night. Lies. NYC is safer than Tallahassee and Atlanta. You'd never know that watching Fox News. Convoys of criminals are swamping the border. False. In any event, the US needs immigration. Who will clean the pools and pick the strawberries?  Yes, current laws are a mess, but that's because the GOP torpedoes every attempt to fix them. Why solve a problem that provides such a juicy cudgel to beat your opponent with?

The US is a broken system right now and I'm not sure it can be fixed. One side is trying to conduct business as usual, even if they are flawed humans and make mistakes. Bridges and roads are finally getting repaired. LGBTQ+ problems are being addressed instead of condemned. Do I agree with every policy the Dems have? Christ I don't even understand some of them. I have to stop and do a mental walk-through to get it straight in my head what a trans woman is. But the other side is destruction and division. Marginalize the poor. Restrict women's right to control her own body. Banning books? The people in history who have done that never come out as the good guys. 

Turn away the refugee, despite what their Good Book says. Look the other way when thousands of innocent children are mowed down into grotesque chunks of meat by weapons of war in the hands of other children. It's not 'mental health', it's not 'too soon' to talk about it. It's too many guns of a kind that should never be in civilian's hands. 

I have to include one chart, but it pretty much explains why the country you and I grew up in is no longer. The ability to raise a family, buy a house, send your kids to college, and take a vacation every year on one income is long gone. Why? Here's your answer:

Yes, the chart ends in 2010 but the damage had already been done. What it shows is that the profit made by producing goods and services was diverted away from the people producing them and taken instead by the 'rentier' class -- the owners. How? Well, Reagan broke the unions in his first months in office. (Air traffic controllers strike). The SEC bowed to pressure and for the first time allowed stock buy-backs, meaning companies could direct profits straight to the owners, bypassing the workers. The new oligarchs discovered they could buy the lawmakers and the courts and cut taxes drastically. The gap between the two lines in the chart represents trillions of dollars that were diverted from the workers to the owners. They should have just stuck to share-and-share alike and not gotten so greedy.

I could go on for a long time. There has been so much damage done...

As Jon Stewart said -- I guess I'm woke. I just thought I was good in history.

She basically replied "both sides are dirty" and told me to fuck off.

Oh well.

[chikabika]

okay so i keep thinking about this post i read a month ago where someone said they hope in season 3 that aziraphale's decision will be supported in some aspect because for them, aziraphale's decision to return to heaven is a decision to keep trying and to not give up on a fucked up system, and aziraphale's decisions are often towards softness and kindness and compassion. and then they ended it with "and also i'm tired of crowley being right"

it has stuck with me, obviously

and i am definitely in agreement with wanting media that supports decisions based in softness and kindness and compassion. and i don't think good omens undermines those decisions of aziraphale's. i mean, from the very beginning, his choice to give away his sword to adam and eve is almost certainly what ensures their survival (so i personally don't think it's a fair conclusion that it's lacking in the show). that's just one example because it's not what i'm actually thinking about.

what i am thinking about is crowley's track record of "being right" is he right more often than aziraphale? i don't think he actually is. i mean, his first response to armageddon really starting is to run away. sure he's right in his understanding that heaven and hell want the world to end, but his decision to run isn't framed as "right" by the show. and he only changes his mind when aziraphale is supposedly dead. he's wrong about which child is the antichrist, and his plan to make a normal boy tm of warlock is part of that whole mess, aka, he's wrong on both accounts there.

crowley's first plan when he sees gabriel in season 2 is to abandon him somewhere on the side of a road and avoid the problem entirely, which is framed as the wrong choice and not just because we'd have barely half an episode to fill in a season if he did that. aziraphale's decision to care for and shelter gabriel is framed as the right choice until they have more information (it still ends up being a bit of a cock up because really hell wasn't looking for gabriel, beelzebub was, but again, we wouldn't have much story if these two were competent).

personally i align more with that meme of "the system is broken and must be fixed" for aziraphale, and "the system is working exactly as intended and must be dismantled" for crowley, but i don't think crowley has any interest in dismantling the system as long as the system doesn't interfere with his daily life beyond a threshold of annoyance or inconvenience. his confession continued to be focused on aziraphale and himself going off together, not on them taking on heaven and hell or god or what have you. heck, he's probably the one who suggested a cottage in the south downs. he was fine with alpha centauri as long as aziraphale was there in season 1, and he's fine with earth as long as aziraphale's there between seasons. but he can't go back to heaven with aziraphale for many reasons, one of which is that it would be putting him smack down in the center of a chart where annoyance is the x axis and inconvenience is the y axis.

ultimately i hope the show does get a third season and does give them the south downs or something equivalent because to me the south downs represents them getting to live in the happy medium of heaven and hell, the human incarnate bit that aziraphale is thankful adam became.

#good omens #good omens s2 #good omens spoilers #crowley #aziraphale #crowley meta #stoat meta

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

#ACLA24 #ACLA24Leaders #youtube #youtube video #climate leaders #climate solutions #climate action #climate and environment #climate #climate change #climate and health #climate blog #climate justice #climate news #weather and climate #environmental news #environment #environmental awareness #environment and health #environmental #environmental issues #environmental justice #environment protection #environmental health #Youtube

[tanadrin]

I insta followed you based off your excellent response on demystifying violence. Fucking awesome.

i'm glad you liked it.

i think for some people focusing on racial inequity using buzzwords like white supremacy feels easier than interrogating what creates and maintains that inequity--the actual material forces at play--because changing material forces is hard, while (in theory) simply convincing people not to be racist is easy. or, perhaps, it's just conceptually easy: racism is produced by racist mindsets and racist cultures, and that's all you need to understand. even if changing it is really hard, the cause-and-effect chain is simple, and we don't need to look at ways in which white supremacy is only a special case of perennial processes of cultural and ethnic essentialism that human societies have used to try to structure power in specific ways even in times and places that have nothing to do with european colonialism.

you don't need to look at the perennial problem of agricultural labor in settled societies, you don't need to understand the nuances of US history, and you don't need to understand the difficult interplay of both positive and negative forces involved in transatlantic cultural contact. there are just Good Cultures and Bad Cultures. Bad Cultures tend to produce bad systems and bad behaviors, and to fix the bad systems all you need to do is fix the bad cultures. coincidentally, all your political enemies happen to be representative of the Bad Cultures, and all your political allies happen to be representative of the Good Cultures.

of course if you find this analysis insufficient you get accused of things like "class reductionism" and ignoring the problem of racism, regardless of your actual opinions on the subject. i guess that makes people who spent their whole lives banging their head against the problem of racism, and came to see it largely as a problem of class and class solidarity, problematic--but given that this is the tradition that ppl like MLK were working in, I'm pretty comfortable saying that this is a position with merit.

it also bugs me that anybody who's a social worker, or a therapist, or anyone else whose job is notionally helping other people via direct intervention, would ascribe to this kind of culturally essentialist way of thinking. can you really help someone, can you really see the world as they do and have compassion for them, if you think they are fundamentally morally tainted? if performative language that indicates your political position is more important than actual understanding?

[leebrontide]

Secondhand Origin Stories, Chapter 14

Here's this week's chapter! Reblogs welcome!

For those of you just joining us, I'm posting a chapter a week of my free near future scifi/low neon cyberpunk YA/NA novel, Secondhand Origin Stories, which has been described as

"-a character driven, compelling story full of family, queerness, corruption, brain altering nanites, secretly teen parenting AIs, and taking aspects of the superhero genre to their very human and rarely-explored natural conclusions."

For an index of already uploaded chapters that hopefully I will remember to update, content warnings and more, check here:

You can follow along by following #SHOSweekly

Chapter 14

Issac’s contacts blanked out before Lasansky was even inside the garage.  

No. Oh no no. Issac knocked his tablet against the metal chair. No sound effects appeared. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket. NO SIGNAL.

Lasansky must have high-grade, government restricted signal blocking. Which meant the security systems signal was jammed, too. Which meant their phones weren’t working and they couldn’t call in their backup. He couldn’t even contact Martin. Which meant the whole plan was fucked, and how was Issac even supposed to draw information out of Lasansky when he couldn’t have a conversation with the man? Stupid. None of them had even considered signal blocking.

This meant Lasansky was deliberately isolating them. And he’d brought serious muscle. So much for Issac’s last shred of hope that he hadn’t been breaking bread with the bad guys.

Fuck. This was going to go so badly.

He looked up, could see Opal had realized that there was a problem, but couldn’t tell if she knew what it was. He wanted to tell her, but four figures rounded the corner, entering the huge open garage door. Lasansky and three goons. 

Too late to explain. Too late to back out or fix the plan. All he could do now was trust the others, and bluff like hell.

Issac turned on an offended scowl, and pushed his shoulders back. Fear and anger had a lot of similar biological responses. Maybe he could make one look like the other. At least he could stop trying to hedge his bets. “What the hell, Lasansky. I already told you, I quit.”

Lasansky started yammering in response. Issac was shit at lipreading. Especially around that big plastic smile Lasansky was wearing. He strolled towards Issac and the diversionary tablet. This asshole. He could have actually helped. He could have actually saved and repaired lives.

Lasansky’s eyebrows tilted up. As if he was bargaining. A soft approach. He totally hadn’t realized his signal jammers were interfering with Issac’s contacts, so he probably assumed Issac hadn’t even noticed them.

Opal was leaning against one of the trucks with her arms crossed, looking annoyed but not, so far, ready to actually punch anyone. She said something to Lasansky, which distracted him. She didn’t like whatever it was Lasansky said back. 

Maybe Opal could cover for Issac’s inability to converse, and Issac wouldn’t have to expose it. The two of them traded a few more lines while Issac tried to restrain himself from looking up to check on Jamie. Opal got increasingly worked up, and Lasansky, increasingly amused. 

Issac couldn’t believe he’d let himself give this asshole the benefit of the doubt. Just because they both had to cover up a weakness, Issac had felt for the guy. He’d really wanted to believe that someone at the top could get it, and would still want Issac’s work.

Except it wasn’t really Issac’s work he was after.

Of all the stupid reasons to miss his hearing, wishing he had more distraction from his feelings right now had to be among the most stupid. 

Issac focused on the henchmen. Two of them looked bored. One of them was looking something up on her phone. Whatever she found, her eyebrows went up. She leaned over to Lasansky, showing him. Lasansky laughed, quick and delighted, and with one last glance at Opal, he turned back to Issac.

Whatever leverage Lasansky thought he’d just gained made him turn to Issac with much less delicacy, and a lot more open demand. What did he have? 

Issac’s attention flicked to Opal. She discreetly pointed at her other hand, which she positioned as if she was holding the drive. “I’m not giving you the data.” He clutched the useless thumb-drive-shaped slag in his hand, held it up a little higher, to make sure Lasansky had something to focus on. Stall stall stall…

More monologuing. It was hard to want to pay attention to the man. Issac glanced at Opal again. He’d have to rely on her to figure out when Lasansky had…had what? If they weren’t recording, then what was the goal, here? 

One of the guards casually laid a hand on a holster of some sort. 

Surviving was a good goal.

Lasansky had come in too close. Issac stepped back, but the back of his legs ran into a truck. Lasansky stepped in closer, and squinted at Issac. Issac caught a flicker of discomfort as Lasansky’s attention flicked to the goons behind him, and he pulled something out of his breast pocket.

Issac's blood ran cold. 

Reading glasses. Lasansky put them on, and glared down his nose at Issac, who tried to look like he wasn’t having a heart attack at a very young age. He jutted out his chin in his best Jamie impression, and stared Lasansky down. 

Lasansky wasn’t smiling now, and he was so close, Issac was fairly sure he lipread “What have we here?” Issac wanted to shove him away, but the only altered on his side in here was unarmed. Even Yael would take a while to rush in. And they had no backup, and they couldn’t call for help, and--

Lasansky laughed. He straightened, taking his glasses off before turning back to his goons and tapping his Botoxed crows’ feet. 

Damn Issac's dark eyes, Lasansky had seen that Issac’s contacts weren’t working.

Lasansky turned around with a speed Issac hadn’t expected from a man Lasansky’s age, and grabbed him.

* * *

It was the only opening Jamie was going to get.

She focused on trusting Opal and Yael. She had to convince herself that they would handle the situation in the garage for a few more moments. Otherwise, all of this was for nothing. Jamie was the only one inside who was still able to move freely, and the noise of Lasansky and Issac grappling for the prop covered her movement.

She slipped off of the top of the truck, straining to reach the guard rail of the upper walkway and hauling herself on, squeezing under the lowest railing. She’d get back as fast as possible. 

She crawled on her belly down towards the VIP suite, up on her feet once she was out of sight. She tried to ignore the sounds behind her. She eased the door open, slipped inside, and closed it again. She checked her phone. She’d been right about Issac’s reaction-- no signal. They really were on their own. No time to be embarrassed that they hadn’t considered that possibility. She had to act fast.

She’d never gotten around to pulling Issac’s bug out of her guitar, but the old Z-wave technology in it shouldn’t be bothered by the signal blocker.

The damn bug was hard to pull out. It was lucky her hands were so small-- she had to fit one almost completely into the guitar before she could scrape it out, snapping the strings with alarmed little pings. 

There were footsteps and muffled voices coming from down the hall. She ducked behind the sofa furthest from the door and checked her phone again. Success! A direct link from the bug to her phone, no outside signal required. Everything would be recorded. 

The suite door opened. “--Janet can handle one dumb altered kid.” Opal.

“Oh my G-d, look at this. It’s a whole trash apartment. What’s LodeStar’s kid doing in a heap like this?”

“Maybe Daddy didn’t like his new little supervillain-spawn girlfriend.”

Jamie was trapped.

“We’re not being sneaky, right? We can just turn the place out?”

A loud clatter, like a drawer hitting the floor, was the only answer. 

If they ransacked the room, they’d find her. She looked around frantically, but anyplace big enough to hide her would be big enough for them to look. At least there was no research for them to find. 

There was going to be a fight-- Jamie against two altered men. By herself.

This was the kind of do-or-die moment she’d imagined for herself all her life. 

She’d always imagined, in that moment, that she’d finally feel bigger. Stronger. 

So far, no dice.

She slowed her breathing the way years of fighting for oxygen had taught her to do. She stayed still. She couldn’t dart them yet. They were both faster than she was, and armed with more than darts. 

But she could record them, from here. She could keep still and wait.

“What the-- Mark, lookit this shoe. It’s tiny. How many kids have they got up here?”

“Forget that, look at these pants. Fucking giant. I’m not worried about Thumbelina, but we should wrap this up before whoever’s pants these are gets back. Could be an actual fight.”

“You don’t think LodeStar or Helix or somebody--”

“In this dump? It’s a squat for runaways. Hold on, this looks like the kid’s stuff.”

More rustling. More digging. A few steps in either direction could expose Jamie. She felt sick. Her heart hammered hard enough to make her hands shake no matter how slow she breathed. Her ears were ringing.

The rustling of clothes turned into the rustling of paper as Jamie tried to remember any paper in the suite. One of the guards barked a laugh. “Holy shit! ‘If you’re reading this, then I failed--’ Kid’s already written as good as a suicide note for us! Ha! It’s like he knew we were coming and baked us a cake.”

The letter Issac told them about yesterday. The one that explained about Martin. She couldn’t let anyone actually read it all the way through. And them wanting Issac to have written a suicide note--

“OK. So, kid dies of tech overdose, and when the boss finds him, the Flynn girl attacks, because she’s mad her dad’s locked up. So, we have to take her down. Doesn’t get any neater than that.” What could she do? She had to find an opening-- any opening…

A loud crack of a noise from outside shocked her. She’d heard it before, mostly on TV. It was a gun. Then clattering in the room, as the guards moved towards the window. Their earbuds made noises Jamie couldn’t make out. One of them barked an answer. “Do you need backup?”

The other’s voice was hushed with horror. “Ezekiel--”

A long silence as they watched whatever was going on outside. How could anyone mistake Yael for Ezekiel? There were no more gunshots. Nobody moved. Jamie waited, and prayed. 

“They won’t catch up to him,” one of them said. Jamie gave a slow, even exhale. Yael was safe. But Yael was gone.

Jamie didn’t feel bigger, or stronger. If anything, she felt smaller.

But it was good. Like she was distilled down to her most basic components, with no room left for doubt or panic. She could still feel her fear, feel her heart rattling in her chest, feel the weaknesses of her body, but they were dull and distant. They felt unimportant, compared to the glow of a perfectly clear mission.

“Bridgewater must have sent him. Explains the bait.”

“If that was Ezekiel, he wouldn’t have run. I’ll take this to the boss. Hurry and finish up. I want to get out of here.”

The door opened, and shut. 

Which left just one guard with Jamie.

Her opening. She stood, raising her arm. He’d half turned away, but saw her in his periphery. His reflexes were much faster, but his taser was holstered. He’d gotten it out of the holster and half raised by the time Jamie steadied her hand to shoot. 

First his hand dropped, then his eyes rolled back, and he went over, smashing his head on the corner of the dresser on his way down. Jamie picked up the taser and shoved it in her cargo pocket, next to her inhaler. She’d never used one before, but she’d watched videos. It would have to do.

She headed back into the hall.

* * *

Every line of the pilot’s face made it clear-- there’d be no bloodless end to this fight. He wouldn’t give up any more than Yael would. Xe knew he was altered. Xe couldn’t afford to hold back.  

Three wet snaps shuddered up xyr arm. Crinkling, crackling hot and cold ran over xyr hand. Xe tightened xyr fist.

He was breathless, but his voice was bold. “This was your mistake, monster! I would have just run!”

Monster. Monster. As if he deserved to use that word on xyr. Yael growled back, “I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not afraid of what I have to do. I won’t let you get away.” Xe lunged. He only partially blocked the blow, but to xyr surprise, he grabbed for xyr arm. The grip was wrong for a throw, and not even secure. 

Electricity arced from his skin to xyrs, racing across the highly conductive exoskeleton. Lighting burned up xyr arm and sizzled towards xyr spine. Yael’s arm went rigid. 

Electric shock ability. That was impossible. The Detroit line had never achieved it. Only Papa could do that.

The pilot didn’t smile at his short triumph. He edged back, hands up, not in surrender, but prepared to attack. “I’m from South Dakota, too. I know that skin. I never saw your face last time, but I know who you are.”

Yael screamed. Xe’d never have imagined xe could make such a feral sound. Xe attacked again, faster, with more conviction. Finally, after all the confusion, all the fear, there was something to attack. Something to do. A surefire way to protect. Xe felt a crack of bones under xyr fist, but it wasn’t enough. Not a crunch or a shatter. The pilot flew a few feet. His landing was graceless, but his recovery was lightning-fast. “Who are you?” Yael demanded. He shouldn’t exist. Couldn’t exist. No one with Papa’s ability had lived. These powers should never have hurt xyr.

“Your damned cult couldn’t kill all its experiments. We found ways to survive. Fewer sacrifices to your sick, twisted religion. We won’t be conquered by you or any of your kind!”

“My kind? MY KIND?” 

“How did you disappear for so long? Did Bridgewater cover you up, too? What is he planning?”

“I am not Ezekiel!” Yael screamed. “I’m not Miriam and I’m not Solomon and I don’t serve Nodiah! I am Yael, and I’m going to kill the villain who attacked my family!”

This time when xe attacked, he shot backwards, and didn’t counter. He hesitated. 

“What do you mean, you don’t serve Nodiah.” He circled. It wouldn’t matter. Xyr reach was much further than his. “I know you’re not Lasansky’s. If you’re not APB, then why did you attack me? Who are you?”

“You almost killed them. You left Issac vulnerable forever. Damaged everything in my life. You are a terrorist, attacking kids in their own house. Issac never did anything to you.”

Issac. Xyr pounding heart spasmed. Xe needed to get back to protect them. But xe couldn’t protect them with this supervillain running free.

Xe attacked again. Xe feinted a punch, which he blocked, but xe swept xyr leg behind his. He got in a punch to xyr head in the same moment, stunning xyr long enough to let him get back up before xe could try again. 

Xe was a better fighter than this. Xe should have dropped him by now. He was sloppy, untrained. Xe’d prepared for this xyr whole life.

Yael fought to keep the xyr temper stoked as real remorse entered his face. Xe could barely hear him over the ringing in xyr ear. 

“LodeStar’s kid. That’s who you’re fighting for?”

“He’s my brother,” xe growled. “And you hurt him. You drove him out of his house, his family--” Xe was telling him too much. 

“I wasn’t aiming for them! I didn’t even see them!” He stopped, studied xyr face.  Xe should have attacked, while his guard was lowered. But being seen was too tempting. “You. You were the big heat signature. You were with them, weren’t you?” His fists lowered slightly, and Yael’s vision blurred with tears that couldn’t escape xyr silver-black inheritance. “Who are you? Another escapee? Like me? Why were you in the tower?”

Yael didn’t lower xyr own fists. “I was there. Yeah, you attacked me, too. I could have forgiven that, but you attacked my siblings. In our home. And Issac won’t recover.”

Xe attacked again. A roundhouse kick earned xyr another painful shock, temporarily locking up xyr leg. Xe struck back with a specialized attack of xyr own, and pulled heat from his body into xyr fist, dragging a shocked choking sound out of him along with it. Xe blocked a blow, but his electricity arced from his hand to xyr chest, dangerously close to xyr heart.

That was enough to stun xyr, and he tried to get past Yael, to the only exit. Yael grabbed him by his shirt, throwing him to the ground. 

Xe should have beaten him by now. If xe could just think straight, past the blood rushing in xyr ears...

Xe accepted multiple hits to secure one of his arms to the ground with several inches of ice. Pulling so much heat out of the air, all at once, hurt worse than his electricity.

This time, he grabbed xyr throat, just like xe had grabbed the kidnapper’s throat two years ago. Xe knew what he’d do a moment before he did it, but xe didn’t evade fast enough. The shock lit up Yael's spine, and xe couldn’t even move enough to scream at the pain. 

It seemed to last forever. Even when he stopped, xyr nerves screeched and jumped, leaving xyr dizzy and disoriented as he tried to free his arm from the filthy asphalt. Xyr voice was rough and crackling. “You…almost killed them.”

“I didn’t mean to!” he yelled defiantly. He tried to use his electric powers to free his ice-encased arm. The ice made his tiny lighting arcs go wild, burning little holes into his restraint. Yael sucked more heat from the air, which pulled his lightning right into xyr hand, burning. But the hole he’d chiseled filled obediently back in.

He punched, but his left arm was less coordinated and not as strong. One skilled blow knocked Yael sideways as it connected solidly with xyr jaw.

Xe was making stupid mistakes. But xe’d never sparred using xyr other powers before. And never fought xyr father’s electricity. Never expected to. Xe wasn’t prepared. Xe was losing energy, losing focus.

“Why did you help Lasansky?” xe demanded. “Did you think he’d set you free? You’re going right back where you were!”

“I was supposed to die!” He kicked xyr off, and positioned himself as well as he could when he couldn’t get the lower half of his dominant arm off the ground. “The tower was supposed to shoot me down. I don’t know why it didn’t. I was never getting out of this.” 

“Did you want to kill that badly?”

“He said he’d let my mom go,” the pilot panted, his voice full of pain. “She’s sick. One of the altered-specific problems. They said she’d have to be in a clinic for months for her to even stand a chance. They say she’s too dangerous to let out that long. She’s a sick, old woman! I was never getting out. I accepted that a long time ago. But she still could.” 

Yael faltered. 

“Listen to me,” he pleaded. “Bridgewater is killing us. It’s genocide. Legal genocide. He’s been rounding us up for years, over anything. Now he’s going to--”

“I know about the bill!” Yael spat. “It only has a chance of winning now because you’ve made people afraid of us again! By attacking my brother!”

By protecting his family. Xe crouched, each of them out of the other’s range. Xe pushed xyr pain down. Xe could handle this. Xe was built for this. And xe needed to understand. “Then why’d you run?”

“Because I hit you, instead of Bridgewater. I failed. He said the deal was off. As if a commercial pilot knows anything about reading infrared signatures like that! I’m not going to get a second chance to save her. So there. Your brother’s hearing for my mom’s life. Does that satisfy you? With whatever you came after me for? Or do you still need to kill me, too?” He was brave. And loyal. Was this really who xe should fight?

“You can’t trust Lasansky.”

“Oh, you think? Damn, I never noticed that before, rotting in his prison for all these years. He blackmailed me into killing someone for him! But he’s the enemy of my enemy, and I want my mom to live.”

“The enemy of your enemy came over here trying to get his hands on brain altering nanites. Who do you think he plans to test them on?”

The pilot recoiled as far as the ice would let him, shock and revulsion on his face. Over several shaky breaths, grief, then hopelessness, tore him down. His shoulders drooped; his free fists fell loosely to the floor. His eyes dropped as he gave up on defending himself.

Yael sat on the ground, mind and body reeling. The truth had hurt him more than Yael’s fists or exoskeleton could. It made him too relatable to punch. Just like Yael, he’d been trying to protect his family. Just like Opal, he’d been trying to protect his family from Yael’s family.

Xe reached up a hand to xyr phone’s earbud, suddenly realizing xe hadn’t heard anything from the others. Xyr ear was empty. It was just the bud that came with xyr phone. It wasn’t meant for fighting. It could’ve fallen out at any time. Xe pulled out xyr phone, but it was hopelessly smashed in all the fighting. They couldn’t call xyr. Anything could have happened by now.

Xe shot to xyr feet, staggering, but righting xyrself fast. “I have to get back. I left them back there--” Xe’d chased the muscle instead of the mastermind. Stupid. 

Xe looked at the grieving man xe’d trapped on the ground.

Yael decided to trust. “Help me take down Lasansky. You’re not the one the APB really wants, he is. Help them.”

“And what, they’ll let me go? Let my mom go?”

“I…I can’t promise you anything. I’m seventeen. I’m not a superhero, and Nodiah only talks to me when he feels like it.” The pilot lifted his head. “But I swear, you’re not the only one against that bill. You might be the best person to bring Lasansky down. He blackmailed you into trying to kill someone.”

Xe moved forwards, and he raised a half-curled fist. Yael paused, and moved closer. He let xyr. Xe placed xyr hand on the ice, and squeezed, carefully, setting him free.  Xe looked him in the eye. “I don’t want to fight you. We were both just defending someone we love. None of them will get anything out of either of us dying. We both want justice.”

He moved away, standing, but he didn’t try to leave. Yael stood, too. “Come back with me. I’ll give you any protection I can. I’ll ask my family to help. Please, help me stop what Lasansky’s made. See him locked up. See where that can lead. You can’t kill Nodiah, now. But you can do this.”

He watched xyr, warily. “I have to go,” Yael nearly pled. “I left them alone and I shouldn’t have, and I have to go protect them. Will you help me?”

It was fair that he hesitated, but Yael couldn’t afford to give him the time this deserved. He looked at the opening of the alley. Xe wouldn’t stop him, if he left. Xe wouldn’t prove xyrself at his expense. 

“My freedom for the chance to change things. Again.”  He sighed, and braced himself, rolling his shoulders. “OK. Let’s go.”

* * *

When was Opal supposed to step in? When Lasansky grabbed Issac, she and the guards had all taken one step, then froze. If any of them touched Issac, or if Opal tried to help him, then this fight was going to escalate instantly. 

Issac could let go of the drive at any moment. It was just a prop. If he was still grappling Lasansky over it, then he was still playing along. 

So Opal stood, every muscle tense, as the guards stared at her, unmoving, ready. They weren’t interested in Issac.

She jumped as the sound of a gunshot from outside shattered any illusion of control, safety, or a real plan.

Yael was out there.

Even Lasansky’s head jerked up in shock at the noise. Issac clocked him. He had no idea his sibling had just gotten shot at-- or maybe shot. Yael could be bleeding out right now.

This was what Opal had signed on for. This was the future she’d fought for. She was terrified. She froze. One of the altered guards pinned Issac on the ground.

Too slow, she moved to help Issac, but a click behind her stopped her cold. It was a taser. They all had tasers-- she’d seen them when Lasansky’s posse came into the garage. They might not be guns, but they’d drop anyone from the Detroit line hard. She tried to think of something she could do that wouldn’t just get her instantly killed. She came up blank, and stayed frozen.

Lasansky bent and picked up the emptied flash drive. It was just a prop. She had to focus. Even if Yael was shot, xe might take hours to bleed out. Opal strained to hear some sign, but only heard running. Lots of footsteps running towards them, and much heavier feet running away.

They’d driven Yael away.

That was the only one of them who could fight, gone. Chased off by bullets. Opal couldn’t even blame xyr, but now what was she supposed to do? Issac was on the ground. Jamie had disappeared-- guards had walked by her hiding place and not seen her. Opal was on her own. This was not how this was supposed to go down.

Lasansky dabbed blood off his mouth, then bent stiffly and retrieved Issac’s tablet. He plugged the drive into it as several of his guards came running up the driveway. Their ruse was about to get noticed, and Opal still had barely even moved. There were so many guards, now. So many weapons. Sweat ran down her neck slowly. That and her hammering heart were the closest things to motion she could manage.

Opal couldn’t imagine Lasansky brought this many people and the pilot if he meant to leave witnesses.

Lasansky leaned against a truck, trying to boot up the tablet, ignoring Opal and Issac as irrelevant. Issac looked up at her from the floor where he was getting held down. He was scared, but he was angry, too. And he was waiting. 

He’d grown up with superheroes. He expected her to do something. To save them. This was the future she’d fought for. Why had she believed she could do this? She couldn’t see any avenue out.

One of the guards who’d gone upstairs clanged back into view across the metal walkway. He didn’t have Jamie. He was waving a sheet of lined paper and smirking. “Sir, I found something. The kid pretty much wrote his own suicide note. Talks about not surviving the trial and everything--”

Suicide note?

She looked back at Issac, who saw where she’d been looking and craned his neck to look at the stairway.

He’d been fighting from the start, but now was nearly tearing his own arms out of their sockets in his desperate, and futile, struggle. 

This must be the letter he’d told them about last night. The one that explained Martin. Today’s death toll might reach out even past this garage.

She had no good avenues. So she picked the only bad one she could even come up with. She launched herself at the stairs, raising a fist she’d just learned to make.

The guard blocked her easily, but he dropped the letter. He grabbed her in midair, and threw her off course, slamming her body into the unforgiving metal railing of the stairway. It was hard enough to stun her, knocking the air out of her body. He held on, drawing back a fist she wouldn’t know how to block. 

Opal’s frozen mind clicked over. She realized she did have an advantage on her side.

She knew the terrain. 

She pressed back into the railing, grabbing it so she could lift and kick out with both feet. He stepped out, and her feet barely skimmed his shirt, but it gave her just enough time to jump backwards over the side of the railing. She took off running. Not towards the door, as badly as she wanted to check on Yael. As badly as she wanted to get away. No, she ran the length of the garage instead, past the line of trucks. She heard the guards following her. What choice did they have? She was the only threat left. And it’d make some room for Jamie and Issac to do anything they could think of.

She had the barest scrape of seconds to find some sort of plan. A sketch of an idea started to materialize as she fumbled through it...They had tasers, But Opal could play that game, too. 

At the farthest truck, she tried to skid to a stop. Her sneakers shredded under her, the smell of burnt rubber blowing past. She just avoided falling as her bare soles found the concrete. Their shoes were built for this; hers hadn’t been, and her trip had cost her time. 

Now that she’d unfrozen, she could hardly keep up with her brain’s orders. She gripped the sole of a shoe in each hand, a little bit of extra protection against her next move. They were so close now-- close enough to shoot her. 

Opal tore the thick, industrial charger cord off the truck with a clang and a silent prayer to God to not let this be as reckless a gamble as it felt. In one sharp snap of motion, she tore the safety latch off the cord, hoping the rubber soles would give her some protection from the current. It did, a little, but she felt a painful warning tingle in each hand. She gripped the cord and whipped it out towards her attackers.

In the air, it hardly did more than spark, but when it glanced off one of the trucks, lightning arced out in every direction. They had tasers? She had an industrial truck charger! 

Two of them dove out of the way. A third one got hit, and Opal paused, horrified, as small bolts of lightning raced over his rigid, contorted body. She yanked the cord back off of him, and he dropped. 

Her moment of empathy gave the next guy time to dart forward and knock her in the kidney. She buckled, her grip on the cord going slack as her knees tried to collapse. 

She snapped the cord again, ripping it at the bend. Electricity arced. Some of it leapt to her hand, shooting through her body and freezing her arm, rooting her feet, freezing her into inaction again. The guard tried to retreat. One of her hands was only slowed, not frozen. She shoved the cord into his body. The electricity released her.

His scream cut off after a single burst of pained sound. His face lit up red, purple veins bulging in his neck.

She dropped the cord and leapt backwards, trying to keep the layout of the garage at the forefront of her mind. This was almost sort of working.

The second man didn’t fall to the floor like the first, but he dropped to one knee. 

She only saw three of them left. 

That number seemed off.

Opal heard a click behind her. She was always going to remember that sound after today. If there was an “after today” for her.

She dropped to her knees, and grabbed a huge toolkit by its handle. She came up in a spin. She didn’t hit the guard, but she knocked the taser out of his hand. She brought the toolkit down on top of it. She could make out a satisfying crunch under the clang of the impact.

The air smelt like burnt meat. How much of that had she caused? How much of that was her body? 

A kick to the side of her head took her by surprise. She hit the floor, hard. The steel corner of the toolkit tore a hot red line across her temple. The next kick connected with her ribs while her ears were still ringing. Then another, to the base of her spine. 

She curled in on herself, arms over her head for some scrap of protection, as pain closed in around her. They’d caught up. She’d lost her weapon. Her knowledge of the garage wouldn’t help her here. There were just too many of them, and there was nobody left to help her. They were probably all going to die, and Martin would be taken apart, and Opal couldn’t do anything about it. She reached out for the toolkit she’d dropped. A boot ground her wrist into the concrete. 

This was the life she came here to find. She wasn’t ready for it to be so short.

She squinted open one eye, desperate to find any advantage. Any blessing to help her survive just a little bit longer. To grab any little chance. 

All she could see was one of the guards, glittering a sickly green. His expression impassive, barely annoyed. This was just work, to him. Beating Opal was just a job, like hauling furniture. If he killed Opal, it’d mean less than scratching a customer’s antique armoire. 

All the fights Opal had held herself back from, waiting for her chance to make a difference, and here she was, beaten by people who didn’t even care. She hoped Issac and Jamie would survive this. She hoped Yael was OK, wherever xe was.

Eventually, the Sentinels would come. They’d know better than to believe Lasansky’s lies, and the APB was already on his scent. Maybe Jamie had even found some way to make the recording. She wouldn’t have deserted-- she must be doing something to help. Somewhere.

At least Lasansky could never get the nanites. She squeezed her eyes shut, felt tears mingle with blood on her face. Daddy was gonna be so mad...She’d gotten in over her head right away. Had her life chewed up by the same system that took him away.

Opal came here to be a hero. 

She’d wanted to do so much more than this. She wanted to be so much more than this. Aldis was going to come back to work to find Opal’s blood all mixed in with the oil on the floor. She felt ribs crack. Would Lasansky clean up the crime scene, or would the Sentinels show up and find Jamie’s little body, broken apart upstairs?

She’d never been so hopeless. Not in the boxing ring. Not in the courtroom. Never. She was going to die, and she couldn’t protect anyone.

Fuck it. If she was gonna die, she wasn’t gonna do it curled up on the floor. These lukewarm killers-for-hire were the same people who tormented her daddy, and she was finally able to fight them the way she’d wanted to since she was ten years old. She’d at least go down swinging.

She struggled to push herself up against the boots and blows. Gained an inch. Another. Got knocked sideways. Pushed again.

A body hit the ground in front of her. Her other attackers paused to stare at their comrade suddenly slack on the ground. Opal didn’t have time to question it. She grabbed the tool kit and swung. It took out two of them at the knees. She rolled again to avoid one of them landing on her, and came up in a crouch. 

The woman from before was already aiming at Opal. Opal jumped as hard as she could and banked off a trailer. The trailer rocked, and Jamie, perched unexpectedly on top of it, almost fell over. Not shot or beat to death. Not yet. Opal almost missed the exposed metal beams of the ceiling, but got a hand around one. The woman’s aim followed her, smoothly, still professional despite the pained noises of her fellow guards all around her. 

She shot the taser up at Opal. 

Opal knocked open the toolkit, sending a shower of metal down and knocking the taser’s connectors away. Electricity arced all around her.

And Opal was holding on to a big metal beam. She swung and dropped, landing on top of the truck trailer Jamie was on. Three of the guards followed her. The last three? Opal threw the empty tool kit at one of them. He staggered, but it wouldn’t keep him down for long. 

He fell off the side of the truck, completely limp. Just like the other one. Jamie knelt behind Opal, Bion’s gauntlet raised.

Two left. Opal launched herself at one of them. Jamie wasn’t a superhero, but having backup and seeing at least one of her team safe stoked Opal’s fire. She and the guard traded a blur of blows, but this was where Opal was at a major disadvantage. She fell for feints, and couldn't automatically calculate leverage like the guard could. 

New tactic-- teamwork. She swiveled, getting the guard between Opal and Jamie-- risky, but it worked. His attention was divided, and even though he torqued Opal’s arm around hard enough to force her to one knee, Jamie got a dart into his calf. 

He might have been from a different line. He fought the tranquilizer, and for one terrifying moment, Opal thought they might have an opponent they had no good way to KO. After a breathless second, he fell, nearly dragging Opal off the side of the truck as he dropped.

But the move had cost them and distracted Opal. The woman guard from before was on Jamie, and had pinned her wrist under one bloodied boot. No more gauntlet. Jamie struggled, but she was too slow, and even going for the woman’s knees, she got no reaction. The woman drew back a fist. 

Auntie’s comment about Opal punching a non-altered and them exploding raced through her mind. One punch from the guard would be all it’d take.

Another leaping tackle, and Opal hit dead-on, grabbing the guard around her open torso, knocking her halfway off the truck. The woman responded with some kind of spinning, half-airborne move Opal could barely track.

She didn’t need to take the guard down. She just had to hold her still long enough for Jamie to actually aim. Opal tried a grapple again, but was thrown off almost immediately. Opal moved behind her, trying to make her turn her unprotected back to Jamie. She grabbed; was shaken off. Punched-- was blocked. Got punched, and staggered.

She saw Jamie out of the corner of her eye. She was trying to shoot, but apparently the guard’s boot was more than the vintage tech could handle. The gauntlet was out of commission.

Opal got knocked down, but thankfully not stunned this time. She saw Jamie dig something out of one of her pockets. 

It was a taser. 

But they were all on a big metal box. Knocking the guard out wouldn’t do any good if they were all knocked out, too. Jamie and Opal locked eyes. Opal nodded. She rolled up as fast as she could, barely escaping a kick, and rushed Jamie. She caught Jamie around the waist and jumped.

She grabbed the ceiling beams just as Jamie discharged the taser. The guard woman had jumped after them, and Opal had to lift her legs with an unheroic squeak as their electrified attacker almost crashed into them. The  woman went limp in midair, falling to the floor. Opal winced at the impact.

They dropped back to the top of the truck.

No one else came to attack.

But sound to her left drew her attention. Lasansky was bruised, bleeding, and his nose was broken, but he had a gun to Issac’s head, and was backing out of the garage. Making a run for it.

Opal moved to the edge of the truck. Lasansky screamed at her and Jamie, “Don’t try it! I will shoot him.”

Opal couldn’t get to them from here, not faster than he could pull a trigger. And they were out of weapons. They watched helplessly as he dragged Issac backwards. 

Just as bloodied as Lasansky, Issac dug in his heels, fighting as much as he could with a gun to his head. He was still scared. He was also still furious.

Then his expression changed in some kind of realization as they nearly got to the door. His head snapped up, looking out the door. “Dad?!”

Lasansky spun, Issac forgotten, as he trained the gun out the door, frantically preparing to fight LodeStar. 

Issac backed up just enough to slug Lasansky across the face. 

The man reeled, gun lowering slightly. Issac grabbed it and backed away from Lasansky, but threw the gun on the ground. Damn it!

Jamie squirmed in Opal’s arms, then threw her gauntlet down. It hit Issac in the head, but he caught it. This was tech he knew, and he opened some invisible hatch with perfect efficiency. 

Lasansky realized that LodeStar wasn’t here. Just as he was swinging around to face Issac, radiating rage, Issac threw the gauntlet at him. Tiny darts, almost too small to see, burst out of the gauntlet in a cloud of sparkly weaponized tranquility. 

And Lasansky went down.

For a second, everything was still. Opal could still hear some pained noises from the other side of the garage, but nobody appeared to attack them. 

They stood there, looking around, Jamie still tucked against Opal’s side. “We…won?” Opal asked.

“I…think we won,” Jamie agreed.

Issac was rifling through Lasansky’s pockets. He pulled out a little black box, and pressed Lasansky’s limp thumb to it. 

He waited a moment, then stood with a relieved sigh. “And I’m back.” He turned to them. “Did one of you get that recorded?” he panted.

Jamie gave a breathless “OK” sign. “All the parts that matter.”

Issac sagged against the edge of the garage door. “We made it. Hi, Martin. We’re OK. Go ahead and send the team in.” Issac smiled at whatever answer he got. “Martin says they saw Yael on some security cameras, and they’re OK, too.”

Opal sat heavily, accidentally dragging Jamie down with her. Jamie started laughing, raggedy but loud and unrestrained. She punched the air with both hands. “We won! We actually won! We stopped the bad guys!”

Opal joined her exhausted, jubilant laughter, and after a few moments, even Issac joined in. 

Opal was about to slide down off the truck and to the ground, but Jamie turned around in her arms, putting a hand on each of Opal’s shoulders. Jamie’d ended up in Opal’s lap. 

She was very close.

Jamie was flushed crimson and gasping for air, a wide, proud smile still on her lips and musical laughter in her words. “Wait. Don’t go down there barefoot. I took a few of them down, but I shot a lot of darts. They’re all still down there.”

Jamie was no unfinished watercolor. There was nothing missing from her. She was radiant, fierce, and probably half out of her mind from the same victory that was singing in Opal’s veins. This was Jamie with nothing held in reserve. Beautiful.

Opal could see the exact moment Jamie noticed how close they were. Pure triumph dawned into something astonished and open and wanting. Wanting Opal.

It was a movie kiss. Burning and triumphant and hyper-real. By the time they broke apart, they were both breathless.

A little too breathless. Jamie pulled away and dug her inhaler out of her pocket with a glance of apology but a giddy grin. Opal laughed and leaned her head on Jamie’s shoulder as Jamie got herself back to rights.

They won.

#SHOSweekly

[teacup-tai]

Tai recs: April Readings

Darling all, April flew by. I had a lot of work and sleelpess nights - due to work - and what kept me alive and happy (most of the time) were the amazing fics I held to along the last few weeks. Here are some of the brilliant fics I read in April that I absolutely rec! Check the tags and be responsible tailoring your reading experience!

Thanks so much to the writers and podficcers that gifted us so many amzing stories! You all have no idea the impact of your words in all your readers life. Honestly, life saviours! <3

Drarry

Way Down we Go by @xiaq (T, 109k)

The war was over. Or at least that’s what the papers said. They’d been saying it, for months, as if people needed reminding. Maybe they did. In which Harry and Draco both run away from their pasts and conveniently choose to hide in the same tiny American town. It's super.

Harry Potter Gives a Shit by talithan (E, 58k)

“Where are you headed?” “No place special,” Draco fumbled, and flushed further. But then: “I can change that,” said Harry Potter.

Heal Thyself by @astolat (T, 46k)

"Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.” “Oh, I thought you might,” she said. “Well, goodbye.” And off she wandered again in her addled way.

Wild by Seffin (E, 92k)

“No,” Harry said, by way of greeting. Malfoy’s blonde head rose slowly, carelessly. “Get out.” “I feel as though we’ve already established this, Potter,” Malfoy responded. “And I feel that what we established was that you telling me to get out of places really doesn’t make me more likely to vacate them.”

When Times Are Dire by @aibidil (E, 130)

Magical Britain is screwed, and it's once again up to Harry to save it. This time, by marrying Draco Malfoy.

Bite me, Hate Memes by pir8fancier (E, 44k)

Draco Malfoy is incensed to realize that someone is trying to usurp his position as the premier Harry Potter hater.

Once More with Feeling by InnerLilith (E, 28k)

Draco is dosed with a consummation-compelling potion, with Harry Potter as his intended. It’s a cruel irony, because he’s wanted Potter for years. But not like this. | In which the boys try to deal with the fallout from an excruciating fuck-or-die, and end up with much more than either of them expected.

The only magic left between us by @lqtraintracks (E, 24k)

Harry goes to the market and ends up having to save Draco Malfoy’s life with sex. He saves Draco’s life with sex and ends up with a husband. The last thing he expects in all of it is to fall in love.

Chasing Shadows (podfic) written by @manixzen read by @lastontheboat [this podfic is everything to me!]

The murder of Lucius Malfoy seems impossible—no cause of death, no traces of spell-work, no potions in his system. The only leads Harry and his partner have are the trail of missing wizards the deeper they go. That and the help of the victim’s estranged son who now spends his time bartending at a queer-friendly Muggle pub. A case fic featuring a closeted Harry Potter, an out-and-proud, tattooed Draco Malfoy, and a murder mystery that seems to lead to more questions than answers.

Pansmione

Sometimes you amaze me by burstofpeony (T, 54k)

Hermione’s on track to become the youngest Minister of Magic in history. There’s just one issue-- the polls hate her. Well, the polls hate her gayness, specifically. When a solution is presented that could fix everything, who’s she to decline?

No need for words by @maraudersaffair (E, 2k)

Pansy interrupts a fight between Hermione and Ron at the pub. When Hermione escapes to the bathroom, Pansy follows so she can show her what she is really missing.

Snarry

Pentamerone by drawlight (snagov) (E, 15k)

A DNA testing service can analyze spit and blood for what they call a "soulmate". Harry has had his done, Severus considers. Or, a love poem in five acts.

Happy readings! love, Tai <3

check out the March list

#tai recs #april readings #rec list #drarry rec list #drarry fic rec #drarry #pansmione #Snarry #harry potter #hp wlw

[grendelsmilf]

EXCUSE ME??????? ??? ?? ??? bonnie did not get forcibly separated from her mother and entire family as a baby, save for her mentally disabled brother who she had to take care of in a recently post-apocalyptic wasteland, relying only on her own genius to build a safe home for both of them; and then at age thirteen when she finally had enough resources to try and find a new family, create her first attempts at sentient humanoid life only for them to betray her by trying to conversion therapy/straight up LOBOTOMIZE her because her uncle felt threatened by her genius, effectively teaching her that she should never let anyone in no matter how desperately she wants a family (the one thing she has been fundamentally longing for ever since she was ripped away from the mother gum) because they will only ever see her as someone who is “too much” (too smart, too ambitious, not gender conforming enough) and try to “fix” (reduce) her into something more palatable; so she creates a family she can more easily control, people who depend on her and love her without ever fully understanding her (but at least they won’t betray her), and pushes away anyone who does see her beyond the facade she has created, of someone sweet and feminine and non-threatening... for you to claim she DOESNT HAVE A TRAGIC BACKSTORY.

the fact that she “plays god” is actually just a consequence of the fact that she wants a family but is too afraid to reach out to others for fear of getting hurt again, so she makes her own children who rely on her so that she can be their caretaker and feel like the mother gum she’s always missed. yes she is a frankensteinian mad scientist, but that madness doesn’t actually stem from her desire to be a deity, but a mother, and the ego she does have is due to the fact that she knows no one can match her intelligence. yes she’s arrogant about it, but at the same time, she is smarter and scrappier and more resourceful and brilliant than everyone else. it’s just a fact! maybe it makes her a bit of an asshole, but considering the fact that she’s been hurt by patriarchal figures since she was a child for having the audacity to be a #WomanInSTEM, is it really such a crime that she knows her worth?? she is singlehandedly responsible for the entire kingdom/princess system in ooo (a title which she first dubbed herself ironically as a way of spiting the disrespectful, diminishing nickname her abusive uncle always referred to her by), she created an entire longstanding society by herself, she is constantly developing new revolutionary tech in her lab, again, all by herself. yes she’s cold, yes she pushes people away before they can push her away, automatically assumes that anyone smart enough to truly see her will want to exploit her, but she wasn’t always like that. she used to be a genuinely curious, loving, open-hearted kid. she just wanted a family.

but every time she did try to open herself up to love, either familial or romantic, she was betrayed (gumbald, marcy, shoko) with the exception of neddy, who simply does not possess the mental faculties to not rely on her, so what lessons would she realistically derive from that??? that’s why finn is so crucial to bonnie’s arc, because he goes from idolizing her as this beautiful paragon of femininity, to being suspicious of her flaws and actions and doubting whether to even trust her anymore at all, to realizing that yes, she’s flawed, deeply so, and she’s done a lot of fucked up things in her day, but she just wants love like anyone else, and he’s willing to give it to her with no strings attached, because he is a caring and empathetic friend. finn is the catalyst that gets bonnie and marcy back together, and allows bonnie to finally open herself up to what she always wanted most of all: unconditional love.

#at ramblings #PB GET BEHIND ME #no one understands her like I do..... #she is the greatest character of all time I don’t think u understand #100

[transkenobis]

experiencing thoughts about predestination and total depravity and salvation and Harrier Fucking Du Bois. how calvinist thought around predestination is the double-sided coin of “you are fundamentally evil and cannot save yourself, you need god to change your heart” and “you are Chosen and Special because god decided to save you” and how harry does both.

i think there’s a large part of him that believes that he is fundamentally flawed, fundamentally unable to save himself and change the course of his life and atone for his own actions, he’s bad once so he’s bad forever, self-fulfilling prophecy, et cetera. and so he turns the people he loves into these savior figures where he expects them to pull him out of these awful circumstances that he has created for himself. he expects them to fix him. to the extent that jean leaving him to his own devices in martinaise is framed as jean finally pulling the plug and not taking responsibility for harry’s actions anymore. it’s both implied and stated outright that jean has spent the last few years picking up harry’s mess for him - he’s fulfilling harry’s responsibilities within the rcm, he’s trying to save face for harry within c-wing. and the second he and the rest of the mcu are gone, harry literally parties so hard he gives himself retrograde amnesia (with the implication that he was trying to commit suicide). 

and i know everyone says this, but the religious imagery gets so fucking literal with kim, where harry pretty much explicitly idolizes him and wants him to save him. so many people (myself included) joke about reloading saves because you picked an option that disappointed him - the game sort of leads a lot of people to rely on his approval to “make the right choices,” whether or not the choices that kim approves of are the morally correct ones. 

(another interesting addition here is that kim repeatedly refuses to take on a savior role for harry - he is not going to be the one to pull him out of his mess. he’ll intervene if your “personal matters” are interfering with the case, but beyond that, he’s very clear that he Is Not Going To Make An Effort To Fix You. you can ruin your life however you please, and by and large, he will just stand there and side-eye you, nothing more or less.)

and on the other side of things, harry has this weird relationship with moralism where (because he’s projecting his ex onto a religious figure) he seems to think that he’s got this profound connection with dolores dei and moralism and the innocentic system? in the sense that he has a personal relationship with a thematically and literally impersonal god. dolores dei is dead - she is not speaking to him. the moralintern and the coalition are overseas governments that have imposed their rule onto revachol - they do not care about harry as a person. even the portrait for the radio personnel on the coalition warship archer is distant - there is only the suggestion of a face, of its features, surrounded by shapes. and yet harry creates this personal connection with the idea of dolores dei, where she has Chosen him, he’s special, he’s part of an imagined group of the “spiritual elect,” he cannot lose that election and he is special and chosen Forever. 

but, by the same token, it’s now his responsibility to save martinaise, to save revachol, to save the world. the bloated corpse of a drunk gets a line where he says that harry personally failed all 4.6 billion people on elysium. shivers/la revacholière tells him that he can save them and the city, he can keep them alive, they need him. i doubt that it’s a coincidence that that the scene happens in a church.

it’s just wild to me because this whole line of thinking is so deeply protestant, so deeply calvinist, despite all of the catholic-and/or-orthodox-type set dressing in the church in martinaise. there’s the contradictory push-and-pull between the idea that “all humans are totally depraved, you do not have control over your sinful nature, you cannot become good by yourself” and the idea that “you are personally held responsible for your failures if you don’t choose to accept christ as your savior, and so you are doomed to an eternity of torment.” it’s total depravity and unconditional election. which is admittedly not what i was expecting when i went into disco elysium. but basically i think we can take the christian imagery and symbolism about fifteen steps further.

#matt speaks #de #i dont think the romans class my parents made me go to was an entirely lost cause. because it enabled me to write this #anyways apologies for the baptist upbringing do you guys still think im normal #christianity mention #suicide mention #ask to tag #de meta