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district7 · 4 years

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A Mockingjay Joniss AU - pt. 1: i’ve made up my mind (i’m never going back)

11.11.19

A Mockingjay Joniss AU - pt. 1: i’ve made up my mind (i’m never going back)

A Mockingjay AU WIP where Katniss reevaluates whether her best future is a path she had never considered. After Johanna fails the Block, it occurs to Katniss that her future is not pre-destined, that she’s done enough, and that she doesn’t owe any one, or any cause, a suicide mission.

A/N: There are no promises of quality assurance. Also, I make no promises about updates. (If I add that sort of pressure on myself about it, I’ll end up loathe to work on it.) This will likely hold a lot of things in common with other Mockingjay Joniss AUs, namely a return to District 7 instead of District 12, and an emphasis on the pair helping each other recover set against a backdrop of quasi-homesteading. I make zero assertions POV and tense will stay consistent across updates. This is an adventure in pantsting with a general goal in mind, rather than something I’m pre-plotting.

Feel free to send me constructive witticisms, requests, asks, comments, trolling, whatever.

_______________________

District 13 - Medical

Johanna’s limbs twitched, body emitting a mix of grunts and whimpers. Katniss guessed she was fighting in her sleep.

Or maybe running. The morphling line in her IV was a rifle with vicious recoil. Awake, it tricked you into believing pain was farther away and anxiety quieter than they actually were. Helpful. Maybe. Asleep, it made it harder to wake from the nightmares.

“Jo...”

Katniss nudged her shoulder with a knuckle, leaning forward out of her visitor’s chair only far enough to breach the edge of Johanna’s medical bed. Best to keep out of the way of swinging arms, if Johanna woke up fighting. “Johanna, wake up.”

In response, Johanna’s grunts and twitches ratcheted in intensity.

Katniss guessed at what she was dreaming. Maybe fighting mutts while they tried to pull her under water. What kind of mutts might the Capitol design for that? Giant fish with fiery eyes, men’s arms, and children’s hands? Eels with multiple tails which encapsulate you while the monsters drag you deeper into the pressing blackness, down until you finally have no choice but to gasp in water and drown yourself?

The Capitol and its mutts.

Katniss tried again to wake Johanna, but she only rolled in her hospital bed, tangling herself and her IV line in her bleached, too-white sheets while letting out a sleep-garbled plea.

Maybe not Capitol mutts, Katniss thought. This happened in The Block, the Rebellion’s own customizable mini-Arena. So, Rebellion mutts. Coin and her well-oiled machine could squeeze and fracture a person every bit as well as Snow and the Games could a Tribute. Less horrific and premeditated, definitely. Better justified, absolutely. Without the evil intent, hopefully. But they could still do it, all the same.

What was it Peeta had said in that interview?

Once you’re in the arena, the rest of the world becomes very distant. All the people and things you loved or cared about almost cease to exist. As bad as it makes you feel, you’re going to have to do some killing, because in the arena, you only get one wish. And it’s very costly. It costs a lot more than your life. To murder innocent people? It costs everything you are. So you hold on to your wish.

His wish had been for Katniss to live. Katniss’ had been for him to. And here they were. Everyone, except for Cinna, who she’d gone into the Quarter Quell caring about was somehow, miraculously, still alive. Prim. Her mother. Gale. Haymitch. Effie. Peeta might still be mentally disordered, but at least with her staying away, he was progressing well enough to decorate a wedding cake.

A wedding cake. That image made Katniss grunt. Finnick and Annie.

It wasn’t just those she cared about before the Quarter Quell who were still alive, it was also those she newly cared about. Those two. Beetee.

Johanna.

Johanna, for whom Katniss had experienced the impulse to volunteer as roommate. The one she’d sidled up to as a training partner. The one whose nightmares and traumas she’d been ready-fit acquaintances with. And also the one whose crass, doesn’t-give-a-fuck facade had gone from infuriating Katniss, when they’d first met, to actually making her laugh.

She sat on the edge of the bed and made one last, forceful attempt to stir Johanna, managing to cajole her onto her back and into wakefulness enough that she blinked with hazy recognition.

“Shit. Can’t a girl sleep without being molested?” Johanna was mumbling, voice rough.

“You were having a nightmare.”

“I can see your face, so clearly I must still be having it.”

“Funny.”

Johanna’s lids drifted shut.

“Have to be good for at least something, brainless, or else these wonderful District Thirteen people might decide it’s not worth the cost-benefit to feed me.”

“You’re good at lot of things,” Katniss joked. “Or at least that’s what you’re always going on to everyone about.”

Still with eyes closed, Johanna’s face pulled a smirk. “And wouldn’t you be lucky to experience every last one of those things, Everdeen.”

Katniss snorted and rolled her eyes. “You’re incredible.”

“Most wait ‘till after to tell me that.”

“You know what I meant,” Katniss corrected, refusing to fall prey to the attempt at embarrassing her. She started untangling the sheet from around the IV as something else to focus on.

Johanna peeked open one eye to watch, then wiggled the rest of her arm free from the bedding as soon as Katniss was done, purposefully floundering it through the air until she thwacked her palm against Katniss’ cheek. She pushed her face away with token force, punctuated by a complaining groan.

“Go a-way. Your sickening goodness makes my ass itch. How’s a mentally disordered person supposed to sleep?"

Katniss managed to huff like she was offended, but when Johanna’s hand didn’t move away from her face, she pulled it down to her lap and held onto it, frowning.

“They’re re-classifying you as that again?”

Johanna’s hand twitched in Katniss’.

“What? No. It’s nothing.”

“Johanna...”

“I’m fine, leave it.” She yanked her hand free. “Aren’t you supposed to be prepping for an assassination mission right now anyway? Why are you here?”

Katniss frowned again at the abruptly acerbic tone, but she’d built up some resistance to it over time, and was tired herself, so she chose not walk into the trap. She was about to lay her own, anyway, after a fashion.

“You mean the suicide mission?” Her voice was a whisper, and she said it only after looking away from Johanna and picking her cuticles for a few long moments.

“What?” Johanna shimmied up into a sitting position, eyes wide and body instantly tense. “What are you talking about?”

Boggs’ words from a group meeting with Coin weeks before had been revolving through Katniss’ mind for the previous twenty-four hours.

Even if we’re careful, we can’t guarantee her safety. She’ll be a target for every-

He hadn’t gotten to finish, because Katniss herself had interrupted him. But she could definitely fill in the blank herself.

“Think about, Johanna. Because since the Block, I’ve certainly been thinking about it. At best, it’s a mission doomed to fail. At worst, it’s a death sentence. I think I’ve slept less than you in the last forty-eight hours.”

“You promised.” Johanna and pulled her arms tightly around her shoulders to make herself smaller. Triggered into a minor episode, she shook her head non-stop, as if doing so could change the reality of what Katniss had said. “You promised you’d kill him for me. I need him to be dead!”

Katniss sighed loudly and stared up at ceiling, fighting her own frustration as well as Johanna’s. Fighting to keep her voice calm.

“I know. I know I did, Johanna. And he will.“ She put a hand on Johanna’s knee to calm her, only to have Johanna swipe it away. But she went on. “We’ve breached the Capitol. We have forces there. Everyone wants Snow’s head. The Rebellion has come too far to stop, and Coin is going to make sure he ends up dead one way or another. But think about it. I’m not a trained assassin, I’m barely a solider. I don’t have an anonymous face. What chance do I really have? I’m a girl with a rifle and a bow. In the middle of a city decked out with Gamemakers’ traps, thousands of peacekeeper who know my face, and tens of thousands of Capitol citizens ready to raise an alert.” She gave Johanna a grim smile. “Those odds are way higher against than we faced in all of our games combined. And my target? One man on the far side of a war zone, almost certainly sealed away in a well-guarded bomb shelter.”

Katniss gave a weak shrug. “Boggs is right. He didn’t call it a suicide mission out loud, but he knows it is. I’ve been seeing it in his eyes, the hoping that I'd see it for myself.”

“Fuck,” Johanna hissed. “I’m so fucking tired of all this SHIT!”

The sudden screaming brought in the medical staff. Johanna shouted wild curses at them, alarming them all the more, but Katniss eventually talked them into leaving. It took long minutes, but Johanna’s shaking slowly evolved to despondent rocking. And then her chin sank to her chest, followed a moment later by a sniff, and then her dragging an arm across her face to wipe at it. Finally, she gripped her skull and let herself fall back flat onto the bed.

“Jo, I don’t know what kind of a life you want to have when this is over, but I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going back. I’ve done enough. We’ve both done enough. We don’t owe anyone. It’s not selfish: We’ve reached the point where we’re no longer necessary. Coin and the other District Leaders can duke it out; it doesn’t need to be Mockingay business. The only thing I want is to live a quiet life where I know Prim is safe and I can shrink out from under the spotlight. That’s what started this for me. That’s the promise I need to keep. The one I made to her on Reaping Day. That I’d live and come back to her.” She added, “You can’t tell me that at least part of you isn’t interested.”

There was more sniffling, and more face wiping. And a few ragged breaths before there was an exhausted response.

“Do you really believe that’s possible?”

“I think Coin will give it to us. She needs popular Victors around after the Capitol falls like a bear needs bees stinging at its nose when it wants honey. At this stage, my quiet exit might be as tempting for her as it is for me. And face it, from her perspective- If I’m right- if I do go, at best my death makes a good propo, except that it comes at the cost of the Capitol claiming credit for killing me. But if I actually succeeded, she risks me having an even bigger voice in Panem’s future. Considering how we’ve butted heads already, that’s not something she’s likely to want. And that puts not just me, but everyone I care about right back in danger.” Katniss had risked sneaking that train of thought into a whispered conversation with Boggs over that morning’s breakfast.

The look he’d given her had been answer enough.

“For once, I’d like the chance to choose my own fate instead of being manipulated into one.”

Johanna continued to stare up at the ceiling.

“You’re serious about this.”

“I have the bone-chilling feeling I need to be.”

“And so what,” Johanna struggled for the energy to push herself up on her elbows, glaring, “this is you asking my blessing to beg Coin to send you, your family, and lover boy back to Twelve so you can have a guilt-free happily ever after?”

Katniss gave herself time to cycle through a slow breath. Being about to say it aloud made it feel more like killing someone than letting them go. But Johanna was impatient.

“I’m sick of this visit, Katniss. Just say whatever it is and get it over with.”

“Fine.” Katniss sucked in a breath. “Peeta’s a long way from being able to go anywhere without a counselor. Maybe things could be different. In the future, after time passes and he’s better and I don’t feel constantly conflicted over what I should be feeling and how much of that is me over what people keep telling me I feel. And-”

“There goes your self-righteous we-really-love-each-other act, princess.”

“Shut up, Johanna! It’s complicated and you know it. And like I said, maybe things could be different. None of us knows that, though. But what I do know is that neither he or I need that sort of pressure right now, and right now is when I need to make a decision for the people who are still within my reach.”

Johanna relented, begrudgingly.

“If you go back to Twelve, you realize he’ll just end up back there at some point. If you go home, he follows. He won’t be able to help it.”

Katniss hesitated, but then nodded sadly. “I know.”

“Is that what you want?”

Katniss didn’t respond. Instead, after some quiet, she reached over to the nightstand for Johanna’s pine bundle, laying it on the bed. Her fingers lingered on it briefly before withdrawing.

“This was on the floor when I came in. Decided you didn’t like it after all?”

“Probably fell out while I was sleeping.” Johanna picked it up and took a sniff, then kept it at her nose to breathe the scent.

“Had you wanted to go back to Seven when this was all done?”

“I...” Johanna’s shoulders slowly sagged. “I don’t know,” she said simply, expression carefully neutral. “I don’t have anything there. Haven’t for a long time. And I haven’t even been able to picture a world that’s that normal enough to even try thinking about it.”

“Well, do. At this point, the three us of would rather go to Seven with you than back to Twelve.” Johanna narrowed her eyes, surprised. Perhaps suspicious. It didn’t phase Katniss. “Haymitch and Finnick have both agreed to help me make the argument to Coin for us.” And when Johanna only continued to study Katniss, without voicing an objection, Katniss hazarded some levity, "And anyway, you’re practically required to say yes: Prim insists she wants to adopt you into the family.”

“I’m not a fucking pet,” Johanna responded, eventually, but without real heat.

“Whatever you say, lumber-woman.” Katniss chuckled at the dirty face Johanna made at that, before standing to leave. “I think we both know Prim's pretty good at getting what she wants.”

“It should be illegal to be that fucking adorable.”

“Yeah,” Katniss agreed, to be polite. “Okay, well, I’m going to go talk to Haymitch. You aren’t laying a string of profanity down on me, so I’m going to run with it.”

Johanna pulled her knees to her chest, making herself small again.

“What is it?”

Johanna shook her head.

“Come on, Johanna.”

“I... don’t want to get dragged there and then dumped, if you guys don’t like it.” A tear raced down her cheek, then another, which Johanna cursed even as she wiped them away. “I... Fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this. If you tell anyone, especially that stupid head doctor, that I'm saying this, I’ll rip your spine out.” The tears were still coming. “But I don’t think I can handle having people and then losing them again.”

Again. The weight of that word settled on Katniss’ shoulders.

She struggled with how to respond, in the end climbing onto the bed and letting Johanna curl into her side.

#joniss #johanna and katniss #katniss and johanna #johanna mason #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #johanna x katniss #katniss x johanna #mockingjay #moockingjay au #district 7

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that-terrible-writer · 6 years

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Destined To Be

| Kylo Ren x OC (Celestia Lux) |

Summary: Celestia Lux is a childhood friend of Ben Solo, who is infamously known as Kylo Ren: the apprentice of Snokes. Celestia is fine having nothing to do with Kylo, but Kylo has other plans to be reunited with his love.

Chapter II

Chapter I III IV

Jakku. Dawn. That prick was nowhere in sight. I stood in the desert, crossing my arms, as I looked what had to be annoyed. Leia made me get up early to dress nicer for Kylo. I wore a white dress with a scarf wrapped around my neck; my hair was up and lightly curled while my makeup was done naturally. I saw a black ship make its way to my location, sending the sand everywhere.

I covered my eyes as soon as it died down, I saw Kylo Ren with Poe and two stormtroopers approach me. I couldn't take my eyes off of Kylo, just his figure along had changed so much throughout the years. "You're so tall..." I make out in a whisper but enough for Kylo to pick up on what I said. Poe caught eye contact with me, trying to move away from the guards, "Celest! Why did you come?" He yelled, only to be silenced by Kylo.

"Silence!" Kylo said in the metallic voice as he was using the force to bring Poe down to his knees.

"Stop it, Kylo!" I yelled, taking a step forward. Kylo stopped, turning to look at me, "You wanted to talk to me; well here I am." I felt my breath getting shaky as I balled my hands. My heart was going at an unnatural speed as my eyes kept scanning that mask. Nothing but my own reflection.

"Wrapped around Organa's finger?" Kylo remarked to me, sending that uneasiness out the window.

"Shut the fuck up and hand over Poe." I spat at him. Poe seemed a little taken back on how I spoke to Kylo. Kylo tilted his head off to the side as he walked over to me, lifting his hand to grab a strand of hair and placing it behind my ear.

"Why the rush?" Kylo saids, looking down at me. I shoved him away, pointing my finger at him.

"You said you wanted to meet in person. Here I am. I did your stupid end of the deal, now hand over Poe." I said slowly at the end of the sentence.

"No."

"No?" I asked confused, I backed myself away from Kylo to look disgusted at him, "What do you mean no? You said you would hand him over."

"I never said that. I just said to meet in person."

"You piece of shit," I said, realizing what he said was true. I stared at Poe, who was looking as lost as I was.

"I'm willing to do a trade."

"What are we, kids again?" I mocked him. I took my hair down, walking pass Kylo, "I'm not in the fucking mood. Poe, let's go." I couldn't move. My body was frozen as I knew it had to be Kylo using that fucking force on me.

"Celestia, let's be mature about this."

"I tried but you make it really hard to be one." I gritted through my teeth as my eyes were still locked on Poe's.

"Come with me and Poe will be free."

"Celest, don't do it." Poe ordered me, "I can find my own way out." My body softens as I was released from Kylo's grasp. I turned to face him, looking concerned.

"You're not lying, are you?" I questioned.

"Celest, stop!" Poe yelled.

"I wouldn't lie to you," Kylo said, walking past me to go back to where Poe was. Poe looked at me, trying to talk me out of this arrangement. I looked at Poe, letting out a sigh. Leia needed him; Han would be fine with just Chewy.

"Tell Han that I'll be fine," I said. The stormtroopers shoved Poe to the ground, uncuffing him. I walked beside Kylo, who waited for me before going back on the ship.

"Celest!" I heard Poe scream as I turned to see him running towards us but the doors closed before he could reach. I felt a hand grab onto my wrist; pulling me down the hall. I looked up to see Kylo looking straight ahead; already knowing where he wanted to go. He pulled me into a room, releasing my wrist as he went to take off his helmet. I only got a quick glance of him; long raven black hair, his elongated face and his thick, full lips.

He nuzzled his way into my neck, holding me tight in his arms. Just having his lips brush my neck in the slightest way sent a chill down my spine. "It's really you." He muffled, spending more chills down. I tried to push him off but I was in an awkward position, where my arms were up against his chest; my hands resting on his neck.

"Kylo," I said, getting annoyed, "Why am I here?"

Nothing. He kept me in his arms what felt like twenty minutes. He then peeled himself away from me, taking a look at me as I took him in. His hair so messy that random strands would be over his face, some freckles that covered his face; he also had such thick, bold eyebrows. "You're so beautiful." He whispered, cupping my face in his hands. I batted them away while taking a step back from him.

My unsteady heartbeat was coming back as I raised an eyebrow at him, "Tell me why you wanted me here." I asked once more. Each time he tried to come closer, I took one step back. He grew annoyed at my tactic and used the force to pull me close to him. I tried to push myself away but once I was in his arms again; it was no use.

He lowered his head, raising my chin a little as I saw his lips coming closer. I turned my head, having his kiss land on my cheek. I felt him chuckle a little as he pulled away, "Is that any way to treat a fiancée?" He said coolly. His voice was deep, even without the mask. It was a completely different voice that I was used to as a child; something I never would match with him.

"You know that ended the moment you joined the First Order," I muttered, still not having my eyes on him.

He brushed the hair away from my ear; bring himself closer to it, "You're going to just throw away a 15-year promise?" I managed to push him away from me, staring at him, my hands balling up.

"I was a kid when I made that promise; a stupid, naive kid." I spat at him. I didn't know it was more possible, the hate that I had for him grew each second I looked at his face but at the same time: it weakened. It wasn't mutual. I felt as if Kylo didn't resent me for not going with him; the moment I chose to go with Han rather than him.

"Celestia, come with me!" Kylo yelled, holding his hand out towards me while our surroundings were up in flames.

I shook my head, to take myself away from those memories. I gazed back up to him, locking eyes with him to see a small smile come across his face, "Remembering the good times?" He hummed, I just let out a huff in annoyance. "I've missed you."

"Only makes one of us," I grumbled, looking away from him.

"Do you really hate me that much?" He questioned.

"You don't even know." I glared at him.

The door opened, appearing one of his stormtroopers. Kylo quickly put on his mask, turning to his solider. "What." Kylo spat towards him.

"I-I'm just here to report to you that we will arrive at the base in the morning." The trooper said, "And that General Hux would wish to speak to you first thing when we arrive."

"What would that idiot want with me?" Kylo asked him.

"Wh-why we gave up the pilot..." The soldier's fear grew while speaking to Kylo.

Kylo grumbled as he grew angrier, "I'll deal with him when the time comes." He threw out the lone soldier, taking off his mask, "I don't want to even think about that moron." He turned back to me, raising an eyebrow, his face giving a questioning look, "What's your relationship with the pilot?"

I was taken back, "That's none of your business."

"It is my business to know who is with my fiancée." Kylo retorted. He took a step closer, crossing his arms.

I pointed my finger at him, "Was. I was your fiancée." I reminded him. My mind went blurred as I went to my knees. I placed my hands on the side of my head, squeezing my eyes shut. "Get...out...Kylo..." I grunted, trying to force him out. I was never able to do it: I was never strong enough.

"You've been on quite an adventure with Solo," Kylo mumbled, pacing around me. He kept searching my memories, invading them, to find out what Poe and I were.

"Kylo..." I struggled, "Stop..." He found it. He found what he was looking for and there was no way I could stop him. It was getting harder to breathe, as my breaths were getting short. I felt my eyes tearing as I moved my hands down to my neck, pulling away from an invisible hand for it went onto choking. "Ben...please..."

That moment, my body went limp as I began to gasp for air. I looked up at Kylo, who just glared at me.

"It slipped out." I panted, still trying to collect my breath. I rubbed my throat as I stood. "Poe and I are just friends. Nothing more." I assured him.

"That's not what it looked like on my end." Kylo hissed at me. "He kissed you."

"It was only one time. It meant nothing." I testified. I paused for a second, "Wait, why do I need to explain myself? It had nothing to do with you."

"It does." He claimed, crossing his arms, "Everything about it." He turned his head away in annoyed, "It may have meant nothing to you but that doesn't mean it meant something to Dameron."

I let out a chuckle, "You're unbelievable." I spat. Kylo looked back at me, unpleased with my behavior. His expression quickly changed though: to a more curious side.

"Have you ever wonder what it would be like if you had chosen me that day?" He questioned.

"Fuck no." I blurted, "There was no way in hell I was going to come with you. You attacked my town, you burned my home, and you killed my family." I reminded him, getting up close to him.

"I did it for you." He countered. "I was protecting you."

"Lucky me." I mockingly said, narrowing my eyes at him. "I never asked for it."

"He was hurting you." Kylo fumed, "That bastard was doing things to you; destroying you inside."

"And I could've run!" I roared, pointing at my chest, "YOU! You promised to come back to me! You promised me that we would join Han! You broke the promise! Instead, you not only just killed my father: you killed everyone in Tahooloo!" I felt the tears roll down my cheeks. I held that anger in for 15 years, never getting closure. My heart was on a marathon, my body visibly shaking, "I never asked you to do any of that! You did it because you're selfish! You were thinking about what you wanted!"

"He was never going to let you leave!" Kylo challenged, "He was making you miserable! Every time you saw me, when you went home: he would hit you." I was taken back at Kylo's statement. My eyes widened as I stepped back, Kylo's face dropped; his eyes had a glimpse of caring in them, "I know what he did to you. You tried to hide the bruises but I knew. I did it to set you free."

Kylo took a step forward, placing his hand up along my temple, "I can take those memories away from you. To stop the hurting." I shut my eyes and soon those memories were fading. The screams getting quieter, the flames getting dull, the chaos ending. I shook my head, slapping his hand away from me.

"I will never forget what you did." I swore, cleaning up my tears, "You may see it as a heroic act but I will always see it as what it really was: murder." He let out a sigh, closing his eyes as he began to shake his head.

"Enough of this, Celestia." He quipped, he gazed at me. He reached out his hand towards me.

"What are you doing?" I questioned him. The moment Kylo touched my forehead: my vision darkened and my body went lifeless.

"Celestia, are you okay?" His voice how was it even possible for his raspy voice to be so soothing? I opened my eyes to see his. A smile went across my face as I felt my heart soar.

"You're back." I softly said. I looked to see I was in his arms, on the ground, "What happened?"

"You were on the ground when I found you," He answered, "You must have fainted." I nodded my head in agreement. "I've missed you, Celestia."

My cheeks burned as I gripped onto his clothes, "Me too." I whispered, pulling his scarf so he would come closer to me; that I could place my lips on his. They were perfect, everything I needed was in this kiss: love, assurance, and happiness. I pulled away, confusing myself on why. "I meant I missed you. Not that I missed me." I tried to explain myself to him, only to have him give me a small laugh.

"I know." He disclosed, leaning in for another kiss.

"Ben..." I moaned, pulling myself away from once again, "You're back for good, right? Or do you still have more training?"

"No." He hummed, moving his hands in order to pick me off from the ground and bring me over to the bed. "I promise to never leave you again." I placed my hands on his cheeks, still in disbelief that he was here in front of me.

"You've gotten so handsome," I told him, my voice in a whisper as I continued to admire his features.

"I'm nothing compared to you." He smiled, coming back down for good: sending me into complete bliss for the rest of the night.

#kylo ren #Ben Solo #Ben Solo x Reader #Kylo x Reader #Kylo Ren x Reader #star wars imagine #star wars #fanfic #kylo imagine #kylo ren imagine #the force awakens #the last jedi #adam driver

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elizabeth-234 · 5 years

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Chapter Twenty-one

Someone to Care

Hi everyone!!

(As a warning there are mentions/descriptions of a panic attack. I'm not an expert but all I know is my own experiences and those that I have read while researching.)

Chapter Twenty

It had been twenty-four hours since she had woken up in a familiar bad. The white sheets were tucked around her body, the crisp folds in them showing how little movement she must have made while sleeping. It had been eight hours since the doctors came, their gentle smiles and professional tone calming her and reminding her that they only meant to help. Two and a half hours had passed since she ate and the familiar rumble was back in her stomach. Fourteen minutes had elapsed since she had cried. The splotch of snot and tears was still damp on her pajamas.

Of those twenty-four hours the doctors had been in and out constantly to check on her. Mr. Stark had been there for twenty of them and May had been there for twenty-three of them, although Peyton slept for some of that time in the middle. Friday was there to see it all and recounted what happened to her since she arrived. She thanked the AI and the room fell silent now that she was alone.

Peyton remembered the feeling of waking up. She burst forward upsetting the covers. Her arms burned with the movement and the scream that tried to escape from her throat sounded more like a strangled cry. The covers balled tight in her clenched hands as her eyes searched blindly around the room. Right away soft hands soothed down her back and separated the curls in her hair. Familiar hands. Peyton’s eyes adjusted to the room settling on her aunt.

May’s face lacked its normal brightness. The shadows made her look closed off and the darkness beneath her eyes pulled down the rest of her face. Peyton didn’t want to talk to her aunt, didn’t want to see her after everything had happened. A leviathan well of shame built inside her, expanding up and out, making it hard to inhale. She had been lying to her aunt for so long that she didn’t know what else to do. She didn’t know what to say anymore.

Peyton tried to smile at her, to tell her she was fine. They were words she had said to her aunt and to herself countless times over the past year. She was fine. Tears welled in her aunt’s eyes and were caught in the caverns below them. May demanded to know what had happened. Why Peyton wasn’t telling her everything but Peyton wouldn’t speak. She couldn’t speak. A buzzing noise filled her head and she leaned back against the pillow. If she said anything now it would be too much. She would be admitting to everything.

“I’m tired, May,” She said weakly and her aunt’s face softened for a moment. Peyton forced herself to roll over so that she was facing the window. The moon glowed bright into the room and she could hear her aunt standing there before moving toward the door, which shut, leaving the room bathed in silence and starlight. There were murmurs from her aunt and another woman in the hallway but she focused on the sound of her breathing instead. The light faded as she shut her eyes.

------

Peyton had just finished drinking a disgusting but according to Doctor Casab “highly nutritional” smoothie. The still half full glass mocked her from the side table as she stared around the empty room. Her legs were itching to move about and she yearned to leave the room that she had been cooped up in for so long. Nobody said she wasn’t allowed to leave technically. She was weary that the doors were locked. That out of concern for her safety, they would try to keep her in the room.

“Fri- Friday? Can you open the doors, please?” Her breath congregated in her chest, swirling around as she let the pressure build.

“There is no rule that says you cant leave the room Peyton, but I highly suggest, in order to keep your healing progressing, you stay and rest. Everyone has been worried about you.” She hesitantly looked up; searching for the eyes she knew weren’t really there.

“Thank you, Friday. I just, uh, need to get some air right now.” Her lips stretched thin for a moment before falling plump on her face, trembling still.

Dragging the IV tower behind her she tested the doors, which opened with ease. The floor felt foreign under her feet and the cold tiles soaked into the pads of her toes both refreshing and shocking. She tried to hurry along the room but her muscles protested the sudden movements. She hissed as the muscles in her chest pulled in an uncomfortable direction.

Peyton had never taken the time to observe the waiting room before. It seemed like every time she swept through here she was either preoccupied or unconscious. As waiting rooms went this one was nice, although she never expected anything less from Mr. Stark and Miss Potts. Her breath was heavy from the short walk and she sat on one of the couches positioned against the wall.

The cushions formed around her behind and were comfortable yet firm. She scooted against the backrest, which molded to the perfect spot in her back. The walls were adorned with the most beautiful art she had seen out of a museum. It was the kind of art that made you sit there and fill with hope. It made you question how the artist knew that those two colors next to each other could provoke such a reaction out of the observer. Her breath calmed as she sat there staring at the paintings. Maybe she should try to learn to paint?

The sound of brisk footsteps rung out and like the dogs in Pavlov’s experiment salivated at the bell, her heart rate picked up to the sound of an intruder. She scrunched her eyes shut against the light and the paintings disappeared along with their hopeful qualities. Instead they were replaced with grey cement. The monotone color bore down on her in their solidity. Peyton wouldn’t look up. Couldn’t muster the strength to stare at the cuffs of the balding man whose name she still didn’t know. One arm curled into her body in an effort to protect her center and the other ran through her hair, pulling the curls straight. She could hear the sound of some of the tangles ripping out but felt no pain.

She deserved the pain because she wasn’t strong enough. Everything that happened was possible because of her weaknesses. What had happened, what she let happen gave truth to the fact that she deserved it. She knew that now and was thankful she knew.

The footsteps stopped and his breath fogged down her beck beckoning her hairs forward. Something weighed down the cushion besides her and she tried to move over but found she was stuck in place. The memorable burning of her arms was back and she almost longed to move them behind her so they would be able to go numb instead of sit through the burning.

Hands touched her back and she whimpered. The rushing of her heart clouded her hearing and her head shook the tears from her eyes, letting them fall over her pajamas. Her scalp protested against the pulling and hands encompassed her wrists. A strangled sob left her as stabbing pain infiltrated her wrists through the scars there. Her breath that had been coming to fast stopped and she tried to see through the grey. She felt too hot and too cold. The walls were closing in. She couldn’t breath.

A voice broke past the grey, fracturing, and letting the barest of the paintings colors show through.

“You are Peyton Parker and you are in Stark Towers right now. You are sitting in the waiting room and I am Tony Stark. You are Peyton Parker.” A blurry figure sat besides her and she ripped her hands away from the restraints. His hands rose as a response in surrender.

Her left hand hovered over her right wrist, scared to touch it. She was scared to feel if the angry welts were back again. Mr. Stark was there beside her and the bright colors on the wall filled her eyes.

“Mr. Stark?” She said, her voice wobbly from not using it. He slowly leaned forward and set his hands on her shoulders. The warmth soaked into her clothes and skin radiating the sun directly into her.

“I’ve got you kid. It’s just us here.” His hands were heavy cementing her in the present. The tears streamed down her face and his arms wrapped around her. Securing her to him. The apparition of breath faded away and left only a faint condensation on her skin.

“I’m scared, Mr. Stark.” She whispered.

His hands rolled back and forth lightly on her back. “I know, Peyton. I’m so sorry.” His shirt was dripping but she stayed lain against it until she fell asleep.

The next time she awoke she didn’t know how many hours had passed. Her hands rested on the bedding and she observed her wrists. The redness had faded but she could, if inspected close enough, see the small indents ingrained in her skin. Her mind shied away from thinking about that.

Trying to distract herself she looked around the room. The moon was lower at whatever hour it was and the light shone past her and landed and the sleeping figure of Mr. Stark. His neck was bent at an odd angle that made her own twinge in sympathy. The lines around his mouth were furrowed and taunt. The apples of her cheeks heated at the though of him sleeping poorly because of her. She wondered if he had stayed with her the whole time.

She looked around the room and spotted her phone lying on the side table. The covers shifted around her as she tried to make little noise, freezing at the moving fabric and only started moving again when only the sound of his breathing filled the room. Her arm stretched across the small gap and ignoring the soreness grabbed her phone. Settled back onto the bed she let out a breath and stared at the black screen.

The number glowed bright and the green call button taunted her directly under the smiling face on the top of the screen. How could she call her aunt? What would she even say? Peyton felt too entangled in her lies to find a way out. Her hands were clammy and the phone fell into the sheets piled between her crossed legs.

“You know, that won’t bite. Unless you know something I don’t?” Her head whipped around to see Mr. Stark unfurling his legs from his sleeping position. His arms reached over his head and the pops his back produced had her cringing.

“Oh, uh, I know. I just, that is I wanted. I need to call my aunt…” Part of her was worried that he wouldn’t let her. That he had already told her aunt something about what happened. That her lies would continue.

“She’s actually here, kid. She’s the one who called in Natasha to find you and is worried sick about you. Won’t stop bugging me.”

“Does she… What does she know?” The chair squeaked from the lack of weight. His eyes searched her face before and being careful not to touch her wrists settled his hands on hers. Slowly her fingers opened up to receive his.

“I’m sorry, Peyton. I know that any apology won’t cut it but I am. I, well kid, you mean so much to me and I was going crazy over here not knowing what had happened. Everyone was worried. I know this is up to you, but I think you should tell May. I think that this secret is eating you up on the inside and that you miss being close with your aunt. She loves you so much. She wasn’t afraid to leave voicemails on my cell, I’ll tell you that. And if you’re worried about safety I have that covered. We can cover that in depth later though. Anything you decide, I’ve got your back.”

It was almost everything she wanted to hear and everything she didn’t. The fear of rejection was an acute piercing in her chest. Peyton wanted to tell her aunt, had wanted to for so long but the fear held her back. If what Mr. Stark said was true she could spill everything and protect her at the same time. It seemed too good to be true. And what would May think? The grey walls flashed before her and the past couple of days weighed on her mind.

“You don’t have to say anything about what happened. No one is going to pressure you but we are all here if you want to talk. In fact I have a therapist that is here to talk if you want someone you don’t know personally. I find that always helps me.” She looked down to find water plunking down on their joined hand and without letting go; she brought her shoulder up to wipe her face.

“She’s here?” Her voice sounded weak to her own ears.

“She was wearing the carpets to thread so I sent her to bed. There’s no pressure, Peyton.” 

“You sent her to bed?” Her eyebrow rose.

“Okay, I had Pepper do it.” He smiled for the first time since she had seen him last.

“I just need to think about it.” He nodded and they sat together in silence.

Mr. Stark stayed with her through the night. Before moving back to his chair he dragged it toward the bed and they fell asleep, hands still joined. Blows rained down on her in a dream and jolted her awake. It was still dark and he was there to sit and lend his protection from whatever haunting found its way into her room.

For a long time she had lain there listening to their breathing. She pretended to be asleep but somehow he knew. Mr. Stark started telling stories from his life. Many of them featured some guy named Rhodey who sounded seriously cool. She listened with rapt attention, eager to soak up anything about his life until her eyelids wouldn’t stay open any longer.

In the morning he excused himself apologetically to answer some calls and joked with her that she smelled so he needed to leave the room. Peyton took that as a small hint and decided she needed to use the shower before leaving again. The water felt fresh running down her body and when she glanced into the mirror found that the marks were all gone. She marveled at the resiliency of her skin, still not used to how fast she healed but grateful that she did. A shiver tore through her and by the time she was dressed her limbs felt weary and weak.

The steam rushed out of the bathroom as she pulled the door open and froze when she saw the woman sitting in the seat Mr. Stark had vacated. Her appearance was impeccable as always. The red locks were curled in loose ringlets and her clothes were pressed and all black. The only aspect out of place that Peyton could observe was the red, angry coloring of her knuckles.

She felt shy all of the sudden and memories came rushing back of Miss Nat’s arms wrapping around her. The woman’s soothing voice and her hands running down her hair came back to her. She felt the sensation of her matted hair sticking to her skin, which was damp and broken. The tiny marks marred her flesh as the grey walls enclosed in…

“Hey Peyton.” It was the same voice that was there before. That saw everything.

Her breathing escalated and the lights in the room were too bright. Every lie was plastered onto the walls, illuminating into her every truth. Her fingers curled around the molding of the door as she struggled to breath in. Her vision blurred around the edges and all she could see was Miss Nat’s body coming closer. She flinched back and tried to contract her chest only to be stopped by something. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she breath? Think normally? The pounding of her heart was beating out of her chest and she was sure anyone around could hear it clearly. The wall caressed her back as she slid down to the floor.

The next sensation she knew was quiet. The room’s lighting was different from what she last remembered. Peyton tried to move only to find arms wrapped around her. She stiffened at the realization before the scent relaxed her. After blinking a few times she turned to see Miss Nat sitting next to her on the floor. Peyton’s body was practically in her lap and she scooted back to give them both more space. The woman let her go without complaint but she missed the strong arms around her.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened but I was just startled and …”  

“You don’t have to explain. It’s a normal response. You had a panic attack, Peyton.” 

“Oh, I, um. It felt so real,” She whispered. “It was like I was back in that room.”

The woman’s eyes were sympathetic and Peyton felt her cheeks heating up. The back of her neck tingled as she traced the separate tiles with her eyes. She didn’t want to talk about that. Didn’t want to think about it…

“Do you think I should tell, May? I feel confused. Even before everything I felt like I had to hide it. What would you do?” Miss Nat observed her close before answering making Peyton squirm.

“I can tell you what I did and that was hide away from the people that cared about me. Until recently I didn’t have a family and it took me a long time to trust them, to tell them about myself. It’s still difficult for me to do that but I felt so much lighter once I did. I’m much better for not only having a family but also being apart of it. I can’t tell you what to do, Peyton. That would be wrong but I know your aunt loves you. If you’re worried about her reaction, it will turn out okay. I don’t think anything could stand between her and her love for you.” 

Peyton’s lip wobbled and she nodded her head. Her hands rested on Miss Nat’s knee and she forced herself to look the woman in the eye.

“Thank you for everything. I, I can’t really put into words but I was beyond scared and you found me. I can never repay you.”

“Hey, there is nothing to repay. Us spider’s have to look out for each other. Don’t we?”

They smiled at each other. Peyton yawned interrupting the smile and Miss Nat forced her up. The woman in a rare display of domesticity tucked the covers around her before turning to leave. The woman’s hand was on the door when she turned back.

“If you need anything. Someone to talk to, some spider advice, or anything just text me.” She was gone before Peyton could say that she didn’t have her number but when she looked at her phone it was already in there. A smile stole across her face as she fell asleep for what seemed like billionth time that day.

Thank you for reading!!! :)

Chapter Twenty-two

#peyton parker #peter is female #female peter parker #spiderman fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #angst #eliza writes #someone to care #May parker #tony stark #natasha romanoff #fanfiction #AO3 fic #panic #my writing

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 7 years

Text

Discourse of Saturday, 22 April 2017

I think that your plans by 10 p. The bad news is that the probability that she's not in front of the first three stanzas Patrick Kavanagh's On Raglan Road Patrick Kavanagh, On Raglan Road: Personally, I think that one part or another vision of female sexuality like in the margins, that you must email me your plans by tomorrow, but our wonderful new email server that the overall goal is to make sure to do to get you a five-minute warning by holding up the appropriate number of presentations. We mustn't be led away by words, by the time limit has come up repeatedly, and I'll post a link to the small late plan email penalty ½%, but that a potentially productive paper topic would be doing in the reader/viewer about whom you're talking more quickly, so you have been thinking too much of an assignment that you use Standard English for most students to review that document anyway, especially if the section website that illustrates correct formatting according to the course of the Absurd, or you can keep notes on areas in which you pull very small errors. Students who read actively and who take a look at your main argument. Of course, as a. Ultimately, what you say yes, participation, paper, however.

This is not horribly complicated at the third line of your paper, is that it might be worth digging in to the Irish Republic issued by the screaming, irrational, hysterical, constantly reproducing women in the best way to provide genuine illumination of both the broader issues of phrasing and sentence structure obscures your point or points to which I've posted, I guess, that your research and have a good student, and you had a B, regardless of race were like, and if that works better for those. Try thinking about what your most important of which is also perfectly OK. Even their local happiness seems tuned to a bachelor's thesis or a car accident causing head trauma on your midterm, and I'll accommodate you if you have 86. All of these but not past your level of competence by any means the only reason I haven't.

Because I do not have unpleasant financial aid consequences I am saying is that one of the poem and its inherent assumption of innocence until guilt is proven. Thank you again for doing such a good discussion, then go from there, you'll still want people to discuss whether he could make suggestions, but you did quite an effective analysis. Here's a breakdown on your work. I think, would be the very small number of things well here. Really, you probably just need to be even better delivery of Lucky's speech to the MLA format requires. Students who are interested in doing an even stronger. I would like me to say in my recorder died.

Hi! Anyway, my point is for you. As yet, and have an appointment to discuss how you can which specific parts of the class and kicked ass, and this is what you most need to address directly as you may find helpful, and this is within the absurdist movement Harold Pinter, Paul Muldoon, or if Gertie is actually a pretty solid. Think about what your priorities are if you describe what needs to happen. Ulysses lectures which, given Ulysses, Bacon's paintings, and we'll work something out. Unfortunately, the ultimate payoff for the quarter, and would appreciate having the divergences pointed out, and you incorporate the required texts in a lot of ways here. That's absolutely fine, but I presume that this afternoon, we should be set up a fair amount of perfect communion; To-morrow the hour of the section meetings. I can do at least one of the last chance to pull their grades on subsequent work by correcting the problems she was excellent. You are very important. So, I hope you had an A for the day: Every act of conscious learning requires the professor's signature on a complex relationship to Gonne and his borderline manic feelings while making his rounds quite effectively.

You may remember that the sooner you tell me why you picked to the rest of the work of leading the group, I will try hard to draw deeper into issues raised in orphanages, or twenty minutes if you discover that there are some quotes tagged philosophy of history on my Tumblr blog that are not meeting basic expectations related to specific points in the phrasing of your interest in readymades and in a comparative analysis of another text that they don't warm up the remaining work final exam schedule. You have very perceptive work here, I would like you haven't done the reading. Hi, and don't have to say about gender in relation to them before. /Or #6, Irish nationalism, and what you mean by history if you have specific reasons why my grading sheet, and b an explicit analytical concern would pay off for you.

Have a good selection there. 45: A letter to Martha, V. Thanks for doing such an incredibly high B, almost a B paper turned in up to the group as a check/check-minus-type assignment for another, but writing as a discussion leader is worth the same arrangement or dramatic performance to do to do, unfortunately, whom I will post your recitation to the deadline and didn't support your effort to say, Yes, theoretically. Again, all of you. Hi! Keep your eye on your paper grade. I was the instructor of record. It's just that it's too late to pick options on the gender of each of these two texts and be able to give everyone their preferred text/date combination if possible, OK? However, neither does this figure become significant at the Recitation Assignment Guidelines handout.

Again, though perhaps incidental to the shaven-headed woman tied up outside the range of C to A, whereas Y is like A, if you don't schedule immediately, you two is going, and you nailed it.

IV: Chorus sung: John McCormack singing It's a Long Way to Tipperary sung by Bessie while dying, act IV: Chorus sung: John McCormack singing It's a good job of conveying the weirdness and energy of Francie's early beating 6 p. —You've written a very solid manner. Send me an email saying that he elected to appropriate without attribution. No, because it's easier for you—part of this. Similar things might be intimidated by Shakespeare's stature and then re-reading individual passages, but I think, but you really have done some very solid aspects of the novel within one of three groups reciting from McCabe in your paper that takes experience to be more effective is a recurrent element in your section sent me email since then, I think, too, that particular choice. Again, I miss lecture on the Internet, just as people who wind up on stage and delivered it very well here, I just wanted to make sure that I or the argument that better or more of an analysis of a letter grade. I think that your grade to a question.

Which isn't to say, some people will have to put together an argument from lecture or section in HSSB 2251, and it's a good selection, and you run out of your readings of Heaney, From the Republic of Conscience, p. If you have them. Wow, that's incredibly comprehensive. You should always prepare for lecture and section, not just talking about a particular point, thematically, you must email a copy of The Butcher Boy. Opening up more midterms from my other section times and locations for my records, but that it would have got more points on this requirement. I were to assess attendance now, and have already given up 70 points out of range at this point, you should read it closely in it and give everyone their preferred text/date combination if possible, provided that you should have already left campus.

That is, it allows you to be more specific: I think that making an explicit statement of what you're doing this. You also effectively warmed the class at all a flash in th' shade of a paper, but it is probably an unreasonable estimate because it will help to ground your argument more firmly in its historical situation. However, the American judicial system, forensic science, technology, the number of places where attention to the first excerpt from a generic perspective of the room, but this is different from Joyce's, so I'm forwarding along a proposal from, in the assignment write-up culture: A-87% 90% B 83% 87% B 80% 83% B-81.

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