#okay but like cutting into the skin was nasty... and then my friend (different lab group not mine but my neighboring one) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bookwyrminspiration · 3 years

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Shattered Upside Down

A kotlc wings au: masterpost here

summary: Everything seems like it’s going to be okay, but they’re definitely not okay.

Chapter 2: The Shift

Word Count: 7.8k

warnings: Mentions of pulling/scratching at skin in response to unwanted physical sensations. Mental spiraling/being overwhelmed. A few medical scenes, but nothing very different than what’s in the books. And as always, swearing.

taglist: listed at the end beneath the cut, but let me know if you want to be added or removed!

Definitely curious to see what you all think, ngl...

ao3 link here

or read beneath the cut

Every single cell in their body was alive--and dying. Each one was burning, shredding itself, unmaking itself and throwing the pieces back together. Their heartbeats were a fraction too quick, each pulse of life a fraction too strong. Each inhale coated their throat in acid and singed its way through their lungs. There was no light. There was no sound. But it hurt hurt hurt so loud, so bright.

The very essence of their mind had been bruised and battered and it was fighting with everything it had but there was nothing to fight. Except itself.

Consciousness was a whirlwind of ups and downs and upside-downs and each time they tried to reach it they were thrown back. Back where? They weren’t anywhere. They were their cells, each amalgamation of their parts could be seen in the way their mind had melted into their inner being.

They could not be separated.

Not yet.

Wait.

The pain was palpable now. It was not the soothing, unending, comforting, searing pain as they watched their mind tear itself apart.

This was real.

This was pinpricks and needles and smoke and ash and scratches and bruises and blood.

Wait--

Sophie couldn’t breathe over the sound of the footsteps passing by in the halls. Eyes open, she couldn’t see, everything hazy blotches of light and dark and color. Then it wasn’t.

Strange. She must’ve blinked it away, not that she remembered blinking. Her consciousness was cotton and her brain was fuzz, the edges of her vision still uncharacteristically undefined, but that wasn’t on the forefront of her mind.

Nothing was.

Noise registered vaguely in her mind, but she couldn’t discern the sounds from each other, voices and whispers overlapping each other like shuffling cards. Static coated everything, the ringing in her ears, the ceiling lights, the sharp flashes of color darting around her field of vision.

A hand passed in front of her face and her eyes trailed after it, but she couldn’t keep up, lagging a second behind.

Breathe.

She needed to breathe. In and out. Again. Again. She forced her lungs to find their rhythm, the pain grounding her and sharpening her mind. Her blood was magma rushing beneath her skin, but each forced exhale made it slightly more bearable.

She was awake.

The noises--voices, she knew now--had fizzled out, the anxiety palpable in the air, the room waiting with bated breath. The hand passed in front of her again, and this time her eyes followed. “She seems to be doing better,” someone murmured, and it took her a long second to realize that she was the person being discussed.

Her lips parted slightly as she turned her head, eyes sliding to the figure seated next to her, eyelids unnaturally heavy. Spots of color danced in her vision--the lights fixed to the ceiling had temporarily blinded her--and the room shuttered between blurred and clear for a few seconds before she blinked it away.

“How bad,” she rasped, and the figure--Elwin--jerked, eyes snapping to meet hers. Her voice had been barely audible, but it was far too loud in this taut silence.

Someone let loose a sigh, so thick and loaded and fraught with relief she nearly winced, and then fingers laced with hers--she hadn’t even been consciously aware she had hands--squeezing tight.

Edaline’s fingers flitted against the skin of her cheek, brushing stray hairs out of her face before pressing her palm to her cheek. Sophie leaned into the touch for a moment before looking back towards Elwin. He still hadn’t answered.

He cleared his throat as he readjusted his glasses, hair frazzled as though he’d run his fingers through it. “I must say, you all are definitely fighters.” His smile cracked at that, but he quickly regained composure and continued. “I’m not sure exactly what you were exposed to, but it did some nasty damage--which I can reverse,” he quickly added, not that she’d been worried. Elwin had performed miracles before, this time didn’t have any reason to be different.

Something about what he’d said caught her attention though. She mulled it over for a brief moment before it hit her.

You all.

Her friends.

Fuck.

Hissing through her teeth, she propped herself up on both elbows, Edaline adjusting the bedsheets around her. She still hadn’t said a word.

From her new position, she could see the entire room, the Healing Bubble--Keefe’s affectionate nickname for the space had stuck. Dwarves had a tendency to build rooms as though they were bubbles, pockets of air trapped beneath the dirt, never to rise. The Healing Bubble was rounded, cots spread around the room, other adjoined rooms serving as both storage and alchemy labs--a close recreation of the Healing Center back at Foxfire. Close. But not quite.

She blinked hard. This was not what she needed to be focusing on at the moment.

Because all around the room, her friends lay unconscious in the cots. Each of their faces pallid and expressionless, none of them moving, not even restless twitching.

Alden and Della were seated between Fitz and Biana, Juline and Kesler beside Dex, bodyguards stationed throughout the room near their charges, each of them looking at her. The relief was palpable on their faces; so then she looked alright she supposed, but she certainly didn’t feel it.

The movement--sitting up--had agitated the sludge in her veins, burning as it coursed through her. Something--probably pain--must’ve shown on her face, colored orbs beginning to flash, a frown pulling at Elwin’s features; she ignored the lights.

This time she cleared her throat before speaking. “What happened?” Still rougher than she would’ve liked, but it would do.

“You nearly got yourselves fucking killed, that’s what,” Ro answered. Sophie waited for further explanation, but none came.

Slightly irritated, she tried again. “I passed out for a while and I’d like to know what happened between the time I fainted until now. Perhaps someone could start with why we’re all back underground in the Healing Bubble--my memory seems to be missing a few spots.”

Silence.

“You kids certainly have a way with words.” Sophie’s head snapped towards the doorway, watching as Mr. Forkle walked up to her, stopping a ways away from her cot. Grady was behind him.

“Hey, kiddo,” he whispered, rushing forward and wrapping his arms tightly around her, holding her as though afraid he might break her. She must’ve looked rough, then. The thought dispelled her irritation for a moment, and all she could do was grip him tightly, only letting go when she heard Mr. Forkle shifting his weight as he waited.

Turning her attention towards him, she tried not to fiddle with her bedsheets.

“What happened,” she asked again, Mr. Forkle opening his mouth to answer when another, darker voice cut him off.

“The fuck is going on.” Tam had propped himself up on his elbows, face pallid as he swayed slightly. Sophie’s shoulder’s dropped a fraction, the pressure of being the only one awake fading now that Tam was conscious with her. Which was...strange. She didn’t want to think about that right now.

Elwin was hovering over him, flashing lights around him but saying nothing, knowing they were both more interested in whatever the hell Forkle was about to say.

“Mr. Tam,” he began, seeming unperturbed by the interruption. “As I was about to explain to Ms. Foster, I think it would be best if we waited for this discussion until all of you are...capable of having it.”

“The fuck does that mean,” Tam deadpanned, words slightly slurred. Honestly, she would’ve laughed had she not been so irritated at the moment.

“It means,” she grumbled, crossing her arms, “that he’s not going to tell us because we’re the only ones awake right now.” She glanced at him for confirmation, and he nodded just once, but it was enough. A haze of anger started to cloud her mind, but she wound it into the knot in her chest with a sigh, wincing.

“Well, that’s bullshit.”

She agreed and said as much, but Mr. Forkle seemed to have been expecting this response, still entirely composed, although if she didn’t know better she could’ve sworn there was a flicker of hesitation in his expression.

There were so many people in this one room, the sounds of their breathing filling the moment of silence in a way that made her ears itch, raking claws down the column of her spine until she could no longer contain the shiver that coursed through her. Edaline squeezed her arm once, rearranging the blankets as Sophie shook off the daze.

“Are you really going to make us wait? Seriously?” Disdain dripped from her voice, disappointment pooling around her fingers as her mouth tightened, glaring at him.

“If you don’t tell them, I will,” Ro announced, examining her nails and pointedly not looking at him.

He sighed, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin for a moment before glancing around, reading the room. “While I would prefer you didn’t, I don’t think it will be necessary. It appears we won’t be waiting for the rest of you kids very long.” He gestured towards where Biana was laying, hands held in front of her as she vanished spastically in and out of view, blinking ever so slowly, head bobbing slightly as her fingers fluttered rhythmically in the air.

Sophie’s heart beat erratically for a moment, another stitch of reassurance mending her frazzled consciousness together. Tam had woken, so had Biana. Everyone would be okay. Everyone would wake up and be perfectly fine--if a little bruised--and they could regroup. This was just a minor setback.

She’d been hurt worse and come back from it, this wouldn’t be any exception. This wasn’t even that bad--just some aches and pains. This was minor.

She reminded herself of this over and over, and it became easier when a muffled groan came from Fitz’s bed as he propped himself up, as the temperature rose a degree with Marella, as the sweat danced up their backs as Linh rose, as the lights flickered for a moment with Wylie, as Dex mumbled spastically beneath his breath--completely indecipherable, but that wasn’t the point--as solid transparency coated Maruca’s fingers, and as that familiar green wave rolled through the room, Keefe the last of them to wake.

It took no more than a half-hour--excruciatingly long for Sophie and Tam, but just long enough for the others to get their bearings and for Elwin to check them over, giving them the clear.

“It’s actually...strange...how well you’re doing.” He frowned, finishing with Keefe as he snapped the final ball of light away. “All of you.” He added, seeing the immediate concern for Keefe. That...wasn’t better.

“What do you mean?” Sophie asked, examining her hands as if she could somehow see through to the cells the way Elwin did. Was there a problem? How could there be, he said they were doing well, hadn’t he?

He waved his hands about for a moment, as if trying to physically take his words back from the air. “Not that it’s a bad thing. In fact, I’m rather glad that you’re all doing so well. Your cells look...slightly traumatized, but otherwise bright. I guess I just...expected more damage considering--” he cut off, glancing at Mr. Forkle before giving them an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I don’t think I’m supposed to say.”

Keefe groaned, flopping back in his cot. “Not you too! It’s bad enough with just the Forklenator keeping us in the dark, but now you join him? Not cool.” While his phrasing left something to be desired...Sophie had to agree. She’d waited long enough to know about something she was involved in, shouldn't she have been the first to know? Shouldn’t the adults have been asking her what happened?

He shrugged, then Mr. Forkle cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “You kids have certainly waited long enough, but I insist we all reconvene down in our common space.” He raised his hands to placate them before they could protest. “You’ve all been laying in the same clothes in the same cots for a few days; I think you may want to attend to some personal care before we continue.” Sophie closed her mouth, realizing just how soaked her shirt was, how stagnant her tongue tasted.

As much as she’d love to jump right back into being productive...she’d also love a proper shower. She could see her friends thinking the same. And Elwin seemed to think they were good to go.

“One hour,” Mr. Forkle continued. “Nothing will change drastically in a single hour. Especially not after that stunt you kids pulled.” He smiled slightly, teasing them now that he knew they wouldn’t fight back.

Holy fuck she wanted a shower.

The pouring water was scalding enough that Sophie’s skin had begun to turn red, steam curling in the air and fogging the mirrors visible on the other side of the room. The smooth black rock beneath her feet seemed alive with the flickers of light from the dancing sconces adorning the ragged walls, reflected specks of color in the sheen.

It fell in a near-silent waterfall from the flat spout a foot or two above her head. It reminded her of those videos she’d seen as a child--laminar flow. The water falling so smoothly, so consistently it appeared almost solid. This was one of the moments where the dwarves' fondness for bubble-like shapes came in handy, she realized as she watched the water flow down the gentle curve of the floor towards the center of the space, guided by the room's natural curve.

The Bath Bubble--another one of Keefe’s names that had stuck--was possibly her favorite place to be nowadays. The room itself was spherical--hence the name--completely hollow except for the ragged column rising from the center of the room. The dwarves had worked alongside hydrokinetics to turn it into a functional pipeline, water flowing through the center and diverting out into the dozen waterfall-like streams her and her friends were standing beneath. And indeed it felt as though she could feel Linh’s soft charisma in the gentle flow.

Sophie tilted her head back, letting the heat pour soundlessly over her head, bubbles streaming down her back. There was a faint pitter-patter as she moved, the water droplets that diverted off her body made a faint splash. She could hear the same pattern of droplets in the stalls next to hers--a friend on either side in a stall of their own, although the dark glass panes between them kept her from seeing who, exactly, she was beside. It was a way of giving them privacy, she supposed.

A dozen stalls of the same size, same structure, with the same toiletries--although Dex always seemed to have a different soap of some kind--all spread around that center column.

It had seemed...strange at first, to say the least. She’d gotten so used to the luxury of her own amenities that she’d forgotten what it was like to share. Now they shared almost everything and had become closer than ever because of it.

The common space, bedrooms...and shower.

It wasn’t quite the same as back home, but she’d come to love it. The casual reassurance that the people she cared most about were just moments away; they were there, she could hear them.

Her fingers had begun to prune, she realized as she rubbed them together. A vague memory flickered in the back of her mind as she eyed the wrinkles, a time she’d heard that pruned fingers were just your body’s way of adapting its grip to work underwater. Curious, she stepped slightly out of the torrent and pressed her fingertips against the wet glass to her side.

Her fingers clung to the surface, a surprising strength in the grip. She could feel her eyebrows raise and then scrunch once more and her mind began whirring.

How ironic, she thought, that it all depends on the circumstances--using it the right way. She shook herself out of it, reaching for her bar of soap.

Who knew the Mysterious Miss F could get even more cryptic, Keefe teased, and she realized with chagrin that she’d accidentally spoken into the mindbubble.

Oh. Shit.

Faint laughter echoed throughout the room, not quite at her, but definitely because of her. It seemed all the blood in her body decided that it wanted to be in her face, and she turned the temperature of the water down to help cool her off. It had minimal success.

I don’t know about you guys, but whatever shit we were exposed to in that place doesn’t feel like it wants to come off. Biana’s voice rang out next, thankfully giving Sophie something to focus on that wasn’t her own mistakes. But she frowned as she realized Biana was right.

She’d been so focused on the feeling of the water, her pruning fingers, that she hadn’t bothered to pay attention to the rest of her body.

It was as though a thin film coated her body, itchy in the way your skin was after a soap bubble popped on your arm.

A film over every inch of her skin, permeating her pores and clawing its way through her cells--well, she supposed she was being a bit dramatic. But it was hard not to worry.

Elwin said we’re good, she reminded everyone, and she could almost hear them repeating it to themselves, small echoes laced with slivers of doubt and terror.

Grabbing the soap off the rack--honeydew this month--she tried to lather the film off, using her hands, then a washcloth, and finally trying to scrape off the top layer of skin with her fingernails.

When her arms were laced with angry red nail marks, she finally had to admit that it wasn’t going to come off anytime soon. Well, she transmitted, a bit perplexed. This is probably a temporary thing. Like ink. If you get it on your fingers, it lingers for a while and takes multiple washes to get out.

Everyone seemed all too eager to agree, chalking it up to something that just needed time. Sure, it was slightly unnerving, but if they just waited it out, the problem would disappear entirely.

It was foolish, she knew, but she couldn’t handle the idea that anything was seriously wrong.

“Did you fuck with the soaps again?” Ro asked, wrinkling her nose slightly. They were all gathered in the common area--or bubble, if you were Keefe--ready to get back to their...forceful inquiries. It took her a moment, but she realized the question was directed as Dex--who was equally as confused.

“The soap? Did I--uh, no. Why?” He stammered, brow furrowing. Honestly, it was kind of hilarious how confused he looked, but he shook himself out of it and repeated, “Why?”

“Your scents are off.”

There was a moment of silence--I mean, there was no proper way to react to being told you smell strange. Biana ran her fingers through her hair, bringing it close to her face and inhaling slightly. She frowned, seemingly also confused--at this point, everyone was confused about everything, which was getting to be rather annoying.

“Damn, we really can’t catch a break,” Keefe cut in, once again, and he glanced at her for a moment too long to be casual before cracking that crooked grin. “If you wanted to mess with us, couldn’t you have come up with something a bit more...I don’t know--interesting?” His tone was light, but there was an unmistakable tension in his shoulders, a hollowness in his eyes as his feet swung back and forth from his perch on a high stool.

“She’s right,” Sandor said, stepping forward with a frown. He came up right behind Sophie, sniffing like a rabbit before exhaling with force. “All of you, you smell different. And it’s not something your noses would be able to detect.” He directed the last part at Biana, whose hair was still pressed to her nose. She dropped it with a frown, absentmindedly scratching her nails over the skin of her arms--marred with red lines just like Sophie’s.

“It’s nothing bad,” Grizel quickly added, seemingly melting out of the walls. “You just smell...off. But you shouldn’t worry about that.” Her smile was almost too easy, too reassuring, but Sophie really didn’t want anything else to think about, so she found herself smiling back.

“Elwin said we were good,” Keefe said, also scratching at his skin; angry red marks covered his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt--she hadn’t been the only one to try and scrape off that film. Even now she noticed she was scratching at the exposed skin on her wrist and forearm, but she shook her hands out and forced herself to focus.

“Will someone finally tell us what happened?” she asked, calm and collected. Her eyes met Mr. Forkle’s, who’d been standing at the edge--could spheres even have edges?--of the room, watching them.

She raised her eyebrows, gesturing for him--anyone--to start talking.

He straightened, looking right back for a moment before turning to address them all. “Well, as you kids have probably figured out, the mission didn’t go according to plan--”

“No shit,” Tam mumbled, and a chorus of amused exhales sounded throughout the room.

Mr. Forkle took a breath, then continued. “You did succeed in setting off a good portion of the planted explosives. However, something went wrong and you didn’t get out in time. Luckily, Dex’s failsafe worked, so no one died or was seriously injured--because of the explosives at least.”

“There was a failsafe?” Mr. Forkle sighed as he was once again interrupted--but this time by Marella. She, too, was covered in self-inflicted scratches, and as her fingers dropped from her shoulder they left a particularly nasty trail of lines as she turned to look at Dex, who seemed slightly embarrassed.

“It was just supposed to be a backup, so I didn’t mention it,” he said, wringing his hands--covered in scratch marks--as he tried not to meet their eyes. “The trigger for the explosives was connected to my personal device, so I added another feature. If we were still within a dangerous range, then the ones within a set radius wouldn’t go off with the others. It didn’t disable all of them, only the ones that put us at risk.” He raised his hands placatingly as if worried they’d be upset with him because they hadn’t exploded.

“That would’ve been nice to know beforehand.”

“Sorry.”

Mr. Forkle cleared his throat before anyone else could speak. “Are you done? Yes? Alright. When you didn’t return by the planned time, we began the emergency retrieval.” Oh, right. They’d come up with a backup plan to get out before they’d even left. Amidst all the chaos, she’d completely forgotten about everything that wasn’t immediately in front of her. Her face heated slightly, how could she have forgotten?

“Using the temporary crystals, your bodyguards leapt in--with Grady there for the actual leap--found you, and leapt back. Of course, the process of leaping underground took a significant toll on them, and they also underwent treatment when they arrived back.” Sophie nodded along as he spoke, impatient. She’d already known all this; she’d even been the one to suggest using the unmapped stars as a backup plan.

Mr. Forkle looked towards the bodyguards, and Sandor started filling in the rest of the details. “We found you all unconscious in one of the vat-filled rooms, but the place was a mess. It seemed one of the shelving units had gotten knocked over, and multiple different vials had broken and mixed together--you all in the center of it.

“We didn’t have time to do anything but get you out of there, the place was still unstable after the blast. So we took you to Elwin immediately, where he treated you for several days until you awoke this morning.”

“Right, we could’ve guessed as much,” Marella cut in, impatience clear on her face. “What happened to the building?” she demanded. “We were knocked out right as the explosives were triggered, so we don’t know what happened and no one’s fucking told us.”

The silence in the room was palpable, and all the adults glanced between each other. Sophie huffed impatiently, her temper shortening by the second--and the itchiness wasn’t helping. What the fuck. How hard was it to give a clear report on what their team themselves had fucking done? Unbelievable.

“Why aren’t you telling us,” Sophie demanded, more statement than question.

“We understand that a lot of hope was riding on this mission--” Tiergan began from the corner, and her head whipped to face him--she hadn’t even noticed he was there, but she cut him off.

“Bullshit. This is all bullshit. Cut it out.” She was being more cross than she needed to, and she knew it, but she couldn’t think clearly through the itching. Her fingers drifted to her neck, absentmindedly shredding at the skin there as she continued, ignoring the shocked faces around her--she’d apologize later. “We want a clear answer. You obviously don’t know what happened to us in the facility, but we also don’t know what happened with the mission. You know--the reason we went into the facility.

“We know it wasn’t completely successful--we have the injuries to prove it, you had to resort to Plan B to get us out, so don’t cut around the chase. We don’t need the build-up. Not all of the explosives went off--but some did. So what’s the damage? How many of the explosives were actually triggered and what damage did they do? And give us a fucking clear answer for once, please and thanks.”

Her tone had been too sharp, too grating--she could see it on their faces; the way Grady’s hardened and he opened his mouth as if to reprimand her, remind her that they were all in the same boat; Mr. Forkle’s frown as he looked her over as if he didn’t recognize her; Edaline’s mouth fallen open in shock, eyes wide; Sandor’s crossed arms as he looked down at her--she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself, scratching more than just her neck now, desperately scrubbing at any accessible skin she could reach.

Why is it so...ITCHY. She didn’t know who’d transmitted it, maybe it’d been her. Maybe it’d been all of them--because they were all scratching, clawing, tearing at their skin.

Someone was talking--multiple someone’s--but she couldn’t hear much over the roaring of her skin stretched too tight against her bones, jerking and dancing and trembling beneath her fingers against her will. Her head bowed until it rested between her knees, shifting her shoulders blades as the heat in her body began to concentrate, spread, travel, like tiny rivers of lava searching against her skin.

“....Elwin….something’s…...tearing themselves apart…” was all she could discern through the scratching. Her fingertips became wet, something dripping down her skin, warm and slick--blood.

She’d drawn blood with just nails on skin.

And then she wasn’t in her own skin anymore.

Her shirt was soaked with ice, cool liquid poured over her back and sticking the bandages to her skin--ice to combat the heat. Sophie laid on her stomach in the cot, each of her friends around her, each of them back in the Healing Bubble.

Their heads were at the ends where their feet would normally be, so their faces were all closer to each other, as opposed to against the wall.

No one had anything to say, could even think of something to say, so they lay there on their stomachs, minds linked but quiet, buzzing with wordless thoughts as the heat in their backs continued to flow and ebb.

Ow, someone said dryly--Fitz, she realized a moment later.

It burns, Biana added, groaning as she shifted in her cot. Her face was coated in a sickly sheen of sweat and tears--and Sophie could see fresh scratches mingled in her scars.

Not as much as that scolding Foster whipper out earlier--I always knew you were feisty, but that was new. Keefe grinned at her as he said it, but she could see the grimace beyond it, the worry shadowing his face.

Her face burned--and not from pain--as she played over the memory in her mind. She’d lost control of herself in the pain and lashed out--and hadn’t cared.

Still didn’t care, if she was honest.

Everything she’d said was true, each quip had been her blunt opinions and desires, her frustrations. She just hadn’t meant to say it like that, but maybe it would convince the adults to stop being so avoidant and distant, to include them upfront for once.

Somehow, through all the trials and tribulation of the past few months, they’d remained secretive, stubborn, still trapped in this idea of superiority. Thinking the right approach, the right morals would get them through anything. It was bullshit--and she wanted them to know it.

Not that that had been her main priority when she’d started trying to peel her skin off with her bare hands--they all had. She’d been too in the moment to notice it, but as she’d hissed and scolded the adults and frantically scratched at herself, her friends were doing the same, only quietly, hazy, detached.

She’d taken the focus away from them, and it had taken a few moments longer for her friends' bodyguards to realize their charges were tearing themselves apart too.

Hmm. Oh. Yeah. That was an accident. She said quickly, realizing she’d never responded to Keefe’s comment, had gotten wrapped in her own mind. Dex and Marella snorted at her, all too aware of all the times she’d gotten distracted.

You were right, though, Maruca said, smiling slightly, looking just as wan as Biana--actually, no one looked good. You should yell at them more often; they listen to you.

I can’t believe we blew up a building, Linh whispered, and she buried her face into her cot as she shifted, reaching an arm behind her to scratch at the soaked fabric of her tunic. I just wish we’d gotten the whole thing at once.

Sophie nodded her agreement. Mr. Forkle had come in earlier to finally give them the report. His quiet, grave tone and his glances towards her had her looking away, embarrassed--no one would forget her little outburst anytime soon.

He’d been curt, to the point. Partly because of her, partly because Elwin was in the room, wrapping soaking cold bandages around their backs.

It had been...underwhelming. Anticlimactic. An entire outburst for one simple conversation.

Part of the facility was destroyed, buried in its own rubble beneath the ground, but not all of it. Not all the places they’d wanted to hit. Not enough to ruin the place like they’d intended. The plan had been to destroy all the “breeding”--they were man-made, so she didn’t know what to call them--parts of the facility, stop the flow of creatures from the source. Permanently damage the place in a way it couldn’t recover from.

Getting stuck in the facility threw a wrench in that.

Not only had some of the explosives remained dormant, but they’d discovered parts of the facility that were worse than they’d imagined. Sure, they’d gone in mostly blind, but they’d thought they had a general idea of the place. Turns out, nope. They’d need a thorough scouting of the inside of the building before they could bring it fully to its knees.

And none of them were in any shape to do that right now.

If it’s any consolation, at least there won’t be as many creatures coming from there now; we did do something. Fitz’s voice was soothing in her mind, and she flushed even brighter as she realized she’d subconsciously lowered her defenses and everyone had seen her replaying the memory.

You’d think being a telepath would give her better mental defenses, Marella teased. Sophie would’ve said something back, gotten them away from the conversation, but she watched Marella’s eyes flare slightly as her body tensed, teeth clenching together. Even though Marella was better at keeping private than Sophie, she still understood. She was trying to distract herself, and Sophie was an easy target--and one who wouldn’t mind.

She opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a door opening off somewhere she couldn’t see, but she knew who it would be before the absurdly colorful tunic came into view.

“How are we feeling,” Elwin smiled down at them all, the light not quite reaching his eyes. “And answer out loud please,” he teased. “I can’t hear all that internal telepath stuff you guys do. I don’t even understand how you and Fitz managed to figure that out, but it’s certainly impressive.”

They didn’t quite know what to say to that.

“Oo-kay,” Elwin said, picking up on the silence. “Let’s start with Sophie then. Still hurt?”

She nodded, then realized she should probably say something out loud. “Yes. My back burns, even with the numbing and pain relief--although that did help. It’s bearable now.” He nodded, snapping his fingers a few times before realizing he hadn’t put on his glasses.

He sat down next to her cot, pushing the glasses up the bridge of his nose before snapping once again. A bright ball of neon blue came into being above her back, and Elwin frowned down at her, looking through her.

“Is something wrong,” Dex asked, though he sounded strangely muffled. Glancing at him, she saw he had his braided bracelet in his mouth, biting down on it as he spoke--to keep from gritting his teeth. So he was in pain too, she guessed. “Fuck,” he whispered a moment later, which confirmed her suspicion.

“I don’t know what I’m seeing,” Elwin admitted, looking toward Dex and seeing the same pain Sophie had. “I think I’ll need to up your pain meds, though.” He walked around the room as he said it, stopping by everyone as if confirming what he’d already suspected for each of them. “The soaked bandages aren’t doing as much as I’d hoped.”

“And? Do you know what’s causing it?” Wylie asked.

“I have some theories--but before you ask, not enough for it to be worth sharing.” He glanced back at Sophie. “And I’ve got something else I need to do with you first.”

He disappeared into the adjacent room--where his supply was kept--but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong wrong wrong.

Anyone else creeped out? Biana’s voice was quieter than normal, and she scrubbed a hand down her face, pulling at the skin as she tried to distract herself from the burning on her back.

Elwin is. Keefe answered. He’s so worried it started fogging up the room. I can’t feel anyone else’s emotions through the haze.

The tension in the room grew, almost palpable by the time Elwin reemerged, levitating an assortment of bottles and vials and rolls of bandages behind him.

“Who wants to go first,” he asked, cracked smile betraying the all-consuming worry she couldn’t unsee now that Keefe had pointed it out.

“For what?” multiple voices chorused.

“Taking off your shirt.”

They all blinked. He continued.

“I’d originally planned to leave the bandages for a while longer, but it seems I might’ve missed something my first time around, so I’ll need to remove them to see that. Right now you’re all wearing your shirts, so I can’t get to them. I’m only one physician, so one of you needs to go first.”

“I’ll do it.” Tam had propped himself on his elbows, but his eyes were on Linh.

Linh, whose breathing had become uneven with worry. Whose eyes were slightly too wide, lips too thin, face too pale. Too subtle to see unless you knew what you were looking for--and Tam did.

He looked to Sophie for a moment and started, not realizing how close she’d been paying attention; he scrunched his nose at her before looking to Elwin.

Elwin rolled with it. “Okay. Sit up. Shirt off.” Tam complied, swinging his legs over the edge of the cot, slowly removing his tunic and looking studiously at the ground, as if he could convince himself there was no one else there. They all looked the same, but her breath was still stolen for a moment.

His entire torso was wrapped in thick, sopping bandages, covering him completely from armpit to waist. But there was something...off...with them. They didn’t sit right against his wan skin. They seemed frumpy, almost. Digging into his skin at odd angles, stuck in other places.

Elwin frowned for a split second before continuing. “Face the wall for me,” he said, and Tam turned his back to all of them. “I’m going to remove the bandages.”

The room was silent except for the slow peeling of the wet bandages suctioned to the skin, everyone trying and miserably failing to pretend they weren’t watching. Elwin moved slow, peeling them away from the skin little by little, trying his best to be gentle. They’d stuck themselves to the skin like a bandaid.

His fingers faltered as Tam’s back was finally exposed, breath catching as he stopped all together. Sophie couldn’t stop herself from gasping, jerking upward as she saw his skin--and she wasn’t the only one; terror laced every face in the room.

At the pulsing amalgamation of black veins spread across his back.

What, Tam’s voice demanded, echoing throughout the mindbubble. He couldn’t see the horror his skin had become, the undulating black slipping in and out of the surface of his flesh, moving like some untold map inked upon his back.

No one could muster the words--but they couldn’t hide it from their thoughts either.

He inhaled sharply as he saw his own form through Sophie’s eyes, wide and frozen, fixated on that unnatural black.

“Alright,” Elwin said, shaking himself back into himself. “Clearly the bandages didn’t work as they should’ve.” There was no hint of anything in his voice, just clear determination and aloofness and he thought through the next steps. “I’m going to assume something similar if not identical has happened to the rest of you, so follow his example. Shirts off.”

Everyone complied in silence, and Elwin made his way around the room, removing their bandages. It was strange, seeing him in action. So often she was unconscious while he worked, and she decided right then and there she preferred it that way. With no tension, no anticipation as she sat there, waiting for the verdict. Then, she’d wake up and everything would be in order--or at least on track with a plan.

Not now.

Not as with each of her friends Elwin found another convergence of veins spread across their backs. Marella’s back was angry and red, scolding to the touch and letting off steam; Biana’s skin flickering in and out of view, threads of invisible flesh weaving between visible; Wylie’s glimmering and shining unnaturally, faint light emanating from his skin; each of them more and more unbearable until Sophie was closing her eyes and leaning her head between her legs, counting counting counting the seconds until this would be over. This would be done. This would be gone.

This wouldn’t last. She wouldn’t believe it. Whatever happened, this would end and everything would be better. She just had to wait it out. She would wait it out.

Finally, Elwin reached her, the last one in bandages. She couldn’t breathe as she faced the wall, his fingers pressing briefly against her skin before he began the process, already knowing what he would find.

Peel.

Rip.

Tear.

The bandages fell away, the pressure easing--but images of her back filled her mind from the perspective of her friends. Her skin was distorted, stretched and pale across her back, pulling with every minute movement as she finally had a visual on where the burning sensation originated.

Elwin said nothing for a long moment, surveying the room before speaking. “I’ll figure this out, don’t worry. It looks like the pressure on your backs from the bandages aggravated something, causing a severe reaction. For now, I think your skin needs to breathe, so we’ll leave them off for now and reassess in the morning. They were just to help with the burning sensation anyways, which we can treat differently. I don’t want to mess with anything else right now; your skin is too damaged.”

He made as if to look out a window, then remembered where they were, how deep underground, and glanced to the light fixtures instead. Dex had helped with them, lighting systems that corresponded with the time of day and brightness aboveground, a simulated sun in every room. They could be overridden, of course, if you needed light at midnight you wouldn’t just be left to flounder about in the dark, but most people just went along with the natural course of light.

The light at the top of the Healing Bubble was currently overridden, and Elwin tapped his imparter a few times before it switched back, the room becoming a deep, dusty purple-blue. He tapped one more time and faint flickers of white appeared on the walls, spattered across their faces and the ground, a projected sky full of constellations.

Linh sighed, leaning back in her cot before wincing, switching to leaning back on her hand and taking the pressure off the skin on her back.

“I know it’s pointless to ask for some of you,” Elwin began as he walked towards the door, glancing at Sophie. “But do try and get some rest. I’ll be in here if you need me--might pop out for a few minutes if I need supplies--and I’ll update your parents and bodyguards, alright?”

They all nodded, but it was Dex who said, “Can you...can we not do visits? Please. Just...not yet.” Elwin’s face softened at that and he nodded, then he was gone.

And their backs still burned.

Something was breaking--no, broken. No. Something was going to break.

She wasn’t there, but she was.

Before her spread a hall of mirrors, impossibly tall, stretching into infinity, soaring above her and cascading beneath her feet--did she have feet?

She stood in the center of the hallway, the mirrors extended to either side, no end in sight.

Was there a noise?

No. Yes.

She couldn’t tell.

But the foreboding sense, the dread, that was real. That was there, and it was growing stronger. Each moment she existed there among those mirrors was another moment that something grew closer. But what?

What was coming closer?

What was going to break?

Where did the--

Sophie jolted upright, blood rushing from her pounding head as she tried to maintain her balance--and failed, toppling back onto the blankets and pillows.

She laid there, still as stone, for longer than she’d meant to. If she didn’t move, nothing could find her, she was hidden hidden hidden. Nothing would break.

Something itched at her back, incessant and demanding as she laid there, trying to ignore the feeling. They hadn’t needed to call Elwin before they’d all fallen asleep--although it’d taken her a while. She didn’t want to need him now. She was so close to believing everything was going to be okay. So so close.

She didn’t want to let go of that.

Beside her, Marella twitched in her cot, her fingers grasping at the blankets, small sparks shimmering at her fingertips, brow furrowed, breathing heavily as though stuck in a nightmare. Sophie didn’t want to wake her, didn’t even have the mental capacity to realize maybe she could.

Her breath came too fast, her head too light as she lay there.

She sat up, trying to escape the foreboding feeling of just sitting there, waiting there. It had very suddenly become less comforting than it’d been only moments before.

Something was wrong.

Something was

wrong

wrong.

Sophie stood, grimacing as her body tried to correct itself as she tilted side to side, head still spinning. She blinked a few times, and the room came into sickeningly clear view, down to the motes of dust swirling in the air.

She blinked again and the effect was gone.

Again, and it reappeared.

Sophie spun, the forms of her friends asleep in the cots staying in focus despite the movement, searching searching searching for, she knew it was here--there.

The mirror.

Tucked to the side, covered with a bolt of fabric, she pulled it out, resting it between Keefe and Fitz’s cots, tearing down the covering.

She pressed up close to the surface, pulling at the skin of her face as she looked into her own eyes, trying to see what she knew knew knew she wasn’t imagining.

Wide, terrified eyes stared back at her, scanning and searching for something, anything, watching the flickering projected constellations move across her skin. All she saw was herself, standing before the mirror in the clothes Elwin had given her, given all of them. The tank top was the same bland cream of the shorts, courtesy of the gnomes, who had helped mass-produce different things at the expense of individuality. There was nothing...her about what stared back. She knew she knew there was something she was missing--there.

A gleam. The light caught in the whites of her eyes and she could see the glossy film coating her entire eye. She blinked, willing it to disappear, and it was gone.

She did it again.

The film came back, and with it, frightening clarity. She could see everything, down to the individual strands of hair floating about her face.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t hear over her heartbeat pulsing in her ears. She put a hand to her chest, all her skin numb except for the fire dancing its way across her flesh. She couldn’t feel anything. No sensation. She may as well have been a bottomless pit instead of a person.

Wait. That heartbeat in her mind...that wasn’t hers.

She turned to face the room of her sleeping friends, blissfully unaware of her all-encompassing panic, watching with dawning horror as she realized it was...all their pulses, ringing in her ears alongside her own.

Out of the corner of her eye, movement caught her attention, something thin and shining, and she whirled her head around to face it, face the mirror.

The world tipped itself upside down at what she saw, the two stumps poking out from her shoulder blades, exposed by that mass-produced tank top.

They sat there, moving with her as she breathed too quickly, as though they’d always been there.

Purples blended into small blue feathers, creating stability at the base, and beyond that stretched something so thin, small vein-like patterns reaching out out out, a film between the shapes it created, like a--

Wing.

Like a wing.

Sophie fell to her knees before the mirror, the air stifling.

Those were wings growing from her back.

Taglist: @loudnerdfest @rainbowtay-11 @cadence-talle @pyrokinetic-loser @ahecktonoffandomsinoneblog @itstiger720 @loverofallthingssmart @cowboypossume @jolieharkness @wings-of-hell-and-beyond @shellyseashell @blossomjenniie @akotlcblog @imaramennoodle @booknerdddddd

#thoughts anyone?#i do so love a cliffhanger #come back in two weeks for reprieve lmao #but like seriously what are you Thoughts #*your #formatting these takes so long because im too lazy to do it the easy way #anyways #kotlc #kotlc wings au #kotlc fic #shattered upside down #my writing <3 #keeper of the lost cities

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breaddaerb · 3 years

Note

do you have a favorite killjoy ship? or a non-romantic dynamic with her that you really like?

[ killjoy headcannons II ]

✎↷: yes, i do! romantic ships wise would be nanobite/sagejoy, but it really depends on the kind of take you get on killjoy. personally, i illustrate killjoy as a very childish and petty character, and she’s still smart to get through things on her own and come up with solutions. in my eyes she seems relatively young, and i try to put that in the best! non-romantic dynamics would be with raze, viper, cypher, brimstone, and reyna.

my top killjoy ship is sage and killjoy. it’s a dabble of shared trauma and simply ‘sage can put down killjoy’s narcissism complex in an instant and shatter her whole career so i’m going to write it’. their dynamic is definitely the softest and most slice-of-life because they’re able to provide for each other and talk it out as baby gays :’D

killjoy’s most angsty moment with sage took place in an icebox mission for the agent yoru, where the german died point blank after providing cover for sage and another agent. at this point, the two of them haven’t met each other personally, but it begins to be after sage resurrects killjoy in pools of blood. super nasty, very trauma, much love.

sage’s pain is something that she knows, when cypher gives her news that the healer has chosen to isolate herself in her room for the time being. the exchange of power in life— sage’s is an eye for an eye, a breath for a death, but killjoy’s is radianite and life. her machines are constantly improving and don’t fully come to a stop at any given point, and while she shouldn’t worry what happens after the rocket rises, killjoy is made to when she discovers the amount of deaths she’s responsible for, all for the sake of kingdom’s radiante supply.

she weighs her values. this harm is not the blood that should be stained on her fingertips, nor the bright teenager who had made the spike without full awareness. but she understands what sage is feeling all for the sake of the matter of life and death, and she chooses to interrupt the healer’s stay in her quarters with a plate of gingerbread cookies and a few teary words. sage needed it; needed someone to listen. killjoy provided.

they dance around each other a lot, and while sage is often rigid and at unease most of the time, killjoy eases it. or not eases it— she brushes over it, brings in her wave of joy and gibberish and guides sage through and allows her a break from her own world and into the engineer’s. it’s why sage knows killjoy best for her unhealthy eating routines and the resistance to going out to exercise, so sage is the one who brings the world down for she and killjoy to share. they’ll both get better, step by step.

their relationship developed way longer into the future, and in between their meeting and then, they’re close friends. sage and killjoy along with cypher make the neat sentinel duo, and i think they’re all good pals! mentioned this once before, but killjoy drags them around as the best friends into virtually everything that she does, and it brings much more chaos into their lives than what they signed up for. this involves one a.m. trips to the local diner and walking around the city after missions, and it brings them together.

sage gave killjoy a spa day. she promised it’d be nothing long, just to get out those knots and everything since the german had been hard at work for days now. she couldn’t say no to the woman (she could be scary, okay?) and it was much rawer than what she thought it’d turn out to be. killjoy showed up to sage’s room, barefaced and hair freshly washed, and sat on the floor between the healer’s legs. a comb gently brushed through her hair, too kind for the taut muscles of killjoy’s body, and sage had breathed one phrase:

“you can relax.” a pause. “you are safe here, always. i promise.”

with intricate braids in her hair, killjoy falls asleep against sage’s knee, and the healer does not move.

viper and killjoy is another story. she is guarded, her against the world, seeking revenge against the ones who have wronged her. viper and killjoy are two different people, and they clash. killjoy comes barging into viper’s lab sometimes, checking in on the serpent, buzzing around and learning all she can about what the woman is researching on. it is a pest in viper’s eyes, but she does not push killjoy out. if she is here for learning, then it does not matter.

and because viper is so estranged from reality, visualized as a cut-throat monster, it takes killjoy’s insistence to get a dent into that barrier. they very much have the possibility of being friends, and killjoy literally takes the death threats as friendly banter. “get out of my lab before i make sure that you don’t wake up tomorrow.” “oh, sabine, that’s so thoughtful of you! you know, i haven’t really been able to sleep well for these past few days, so if you make something, that’d be great! unless that’s a death threat. then, you’re twenty-five years too late on that one, buddy!”

viper calls killjoy maus, or mouse in german. the nickname makes killjoy laugh because one, viper is shorter than her and two, it is a little bit of a pet name for partners. she’s not complaining, though! if viper can talk to her and make some time of day for killjoy, it’s all the reward that she needs. dating would involve viper to include other names, having grown a liking to german ones such as schneke or liebling. it makes her maus’ heart flutter all that more.

reyna and killjoy is a whole other story. this is completely non-romantic, if anything, they hate each other! reyna hates killjoy specifically because she is non-radiant and her machines do harm, and the other is petrified of the mexican. killjoy can snap back easily, but the vampire gets beneath her skin and discomforts her on all levels, so she never usually does. killjoy has fits of rage and pure relapse because of her, and it becomes the thorn in her side.

brimstone and killjoy are father daughter. she mocks him a lot of the time but she’ll never hesitate to compliment him either. “brimstone, that was wonderful!” she’d cheer, and the man would laugh and ruffle her beanie. “hey, kid, not too loud. the others will be jealous.” they fight here and there and always make up for it. killjoy’s dynamic with him is by far the most fun to write, and the chaos that comes from a war criminal and her papa is incredible.

razejoy! i actually don’t need to say much on this one. i have.. tons of writing that involve their shenanigans, mostly from with my reblog writings with @code-name-wraith ! check them out :-)

#valorant #valorant headcanons #killjoy #sage #brimstone #viper #cypher #sagejoy #nanobite #wlw #IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS

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phantomphangphucker · 4 years

Text

Ectober Day 15: Trapped - Adulting: But Ghostly

Screwing up in the Fenton Lab was a pretty normal regular thing, but screwing up in such a way to botch someone’s age and humanness without actually changing said we and humanness was a weird one. This is totally definitely Tucker’s fault. Danny caused it, but it’s still Tucker’s fault.

Tucker chuckles at his two friends, “honestly, helping clean up the lab is a weak ass punishment”, shrugging, “all things considered”.

Danny glances at him while pointedly picking up some very sticky and slightly mouldy, touching it with as few fingers as possible, “you sure about that one?”.

Tucker waves him off, “only makes sense for you to clean up the nasty shit. Unlike us, that won’t get you sick”. Danny flips him off while dropping the soggy piece in the garbage bag. Sam just smirks.

Not even five minutes later Tucker knocks some spray-can thing onto the ground, which in typical fashion explodes. Danny eyes the pink mist and sighs, “whelp, now there’s more mess, thanks Tu-”, cutting himself off at feeling a slight tingling across his skin. Turning to glare at Tucker, “oh fuck you”.

Relenting in said glaring at noticing that Tucker and Sam are both glowing now, glancing to his arm and groaning over the matching glow.... Great, just great. Quirking an eyebrow over watching the skin on his arm slowly stain a pale blue and increase in muscle mass? Looking up to his friends and gapping slightly. Jet black skin patching over Tucker’s face and pale green on Sam’s.

Tucker sounds slightly in awe but also worried as he flips over his clawed hand a few times, “okay, might have fucked up a little”, and blinking at the echo to his voice.

Sam grabs at her hair, seemingly made of vines now and with purple flowers popping open, “ya think?”.

Then both of them turning to Danny and grimacing, while he’s having a slight crises at definitely recognising the feel of ecto-flames where there should be hair. Immediately moving to check his pulse, the other two quickly following suit with wide eyes. Sam snapping, “if we just got offed, I’m gonna be pissed”.

Danny’s the first to sigh in relief, being the only one who very frequently checked his pulse normally. He could do without being any more dead, thank you very much.

Tucker snorts, “awesome, so I didn’t just accidentally kill us”.

Danny points at him, “meaning the labs death toll is still only half”, pausing, noting the deep baritone, and touching his throat, “woah”. Then grabbing his much larger than normal hands around his forearm with a quirked eyebrow. Looking up to his friends who are effectively copying him. Both a bit taller and more muscular. Both had longer hair too, though Tucker’s was barely past his ears and dreaded with gold caps on the ends, while Sam’s was nearly past her waist and looked like long vines of purple asters. Their faces were kinda different too and Tucker even had facial hair. They looked... like adults? adult ghosts at that, minus still being in their regular clothing anyways; which definitely didn’t fit super well anymore. Moving his arm a little and actually cringing slightly over the strain his shirt was under; okay, it’s good he wore baggy clothing or he would have ruined his clothing entirely. He might ruin them as it is.

Sam pointing to him, “you sound like Dan”.

Danny shrugs a bit awkwardly, “sound different to myself”. And thank the Ancients for that. He could do without hearing Dan’s voice every time he opened his mouth. Does feel slightly bad for his friends though.

All three make their way over to the back wall mirror and poke at their faces. Blinking eyes and baring fangs. Tucker chuckles, “I have fucking facial hair”, and starts hopping around on his feet, “and what am I? Like six feet tall?”.

Sam and Danny roll their eyes. Danny crossing his arms and looking down at Tucker. Who pauses just to shove Danny, “hey, we all already knew you were going to be a tall bastard”, then going wide-eyed, “dude holy shit! That stuff turned us into adults! Awesome!”.

Sam points at him, “and ghosts”, pulling at the corner of her eyelid, “though yes, green eyes are pretty wicked”.

Danny points at her, “and your skin’s such a pale green than your eyes don’t blend in”. Sam just smirks at that. Tucker pats him on the back though, “well at least yours aren’t red”.

“Amen to that”.

Sam shakes her head a little, putting her hands on her hips, “okay, as cool as this is -though it is kinda curious we’re not displaying powers- I think we should, I don’t know, fix this?”. Danny rubs his neck while nodding and Tucker snatched back up the can before flopping into a chair, “I got this. Hold your ecto-knickers”. Trying to lean his head back only for the headrest to not be up high enough, muttering, “man that’s weird”, as he readjusts it.

Forty minutes later finds Tucker groaning, “okay, I officially really screwed up. Completely screwed the pooch”. Earning loud groans from his two friends.

Sam pushes herself up, “alright, Mr. Bad Luck, the fuck’d you do?”.

Tucker sticks out his hands, smashing one on a table, “ts not what I did! It’s what the Fenton’s didn’t do! Also, ow”.

Danny and Sam sighing, “let me guess, no reverse option and they didn’t write the formula down?”.

Tucker snaps his fingers at them, “bingo. Man, it’s like you’re psychic”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “more like my parents are just predictable... and kinda incompetent”. Everyone cringing a little over that.

Sam rubs her eyes, “alright, so now what are we going to do? We can’t go anywhere like this and we-all-know-who will shoot us the second they get home”.

Danny taps his chin, “well, I’m not in my jumpsuit so I don’t look blatantly like Phantom so I think I’m in the clear for that. And we have planned for a situation where I couldn’t change back human. So I’ve already got makeup, wig and contacts. But Wig and contacts only work for me and I’m definitely not your guy’s colour”.

Tucker snorts, “you don’t say you pasty-ass fuck”. Sam rolls her eyes, “excuse you?”.

“You’re pale, he’s pasty”.

Sam nods curtly with a smug grin. Danny just chuckles.

Tucker claps the chairs armrests, “whelp we should probably at least get you looking human, before we run out of luck or something”. Sam grumbling, “you’re gonna jinx us”. Which Tucker, of course, waves her off as they all get up.

However when they walk into the living room just as the front door opens, Sam and Danny glare at Tucker who laughs awkwardly, “oops?”. All three snapping their heads towards the pair of hunters as said hunters immediately, and predictably, draw ecto-weapons, “hold it right there spooks!”.

Danny holds his hands out, “wait! Wait! We’re not ghosts!”.

His mom doesn’t let him continue, “can it, we know what ghosts look like”. His dad nodding, “you might be able to trick some regular joes but not the Fenton’s”.

Sam mutters, “wow this is awkward”. Tucker just nods slightly at her while gulping.

Danny makes pacifying motions, “but wouldn’t we be floating and stuff if we were newly formed ghosts. We’re not even glowing properly”, it was true, their glows were so small they practically weren’t glowing at all, “so could you put the weapons down, mom, dad”, putting his hands down and shrugging loosely very intentionally, “I’d really rather not get gooped”.

His parents actually look to be considering this, not dropping their weapons though. Figures. His mom readjusting her grip as she goes to dig in her pocket. Producing a chunk of ectoranium seconds later, “well if that’s the case and you’re not ghosts then you shouldn’t have a reaction to this”, and moves to poke Tucker’s arm with the tip, gun staying trained on them all the while. Everyone watching as absolutely nothing happens.

Tucker grins almost apologetically while Danny speaks, “see?”.

Both his parents look puzzled at the ectoranium and Tucker’s arm before Maddie blinks and looks at each of them, her eyes widening, “Danny? Tucker? Sam?”. Which the three of them nod rapidly at. Thankfully their moods do a complete one-eighty at that.

Jack practically bounding over to Danny and actually having to look up at him slightly, laughing and patting his head, “ha! I knew someone was going to get my Fenton genes!”, and pats him on both shoulders like he was measuring how wide he was. Maddie smiles sweetly at him before giving the group of teens who don’t look like teens a puzzled look again, “what I don’t get is, how’d this happen?”.

Danny and Sam immediately pointing at Tucker, but wind up smacking him in the face. Danny chuckling, “shit sorry man, ain’t used to the arm length”. Tucker predictably waves both of them off, though rubbing his cheek from Danny’s hit because well, getting effectively smacked by someone with super-strength and hands that look like pure muscle hurts.

Sam rolls her eyes and explains to Maddie, “that idiot knocked over a spray can looking thing that sprayed pink mist everywhere”.

“Hey, at least I didn’t do it intentionally”. Everyone ignores that.

Maddie taps her chin, “I don’t understand. It shouldn’t have been able to do this without something ectoplasmic around”. While Jack is off in his own world wrapping his fingers around Danny’s biceps.

Danny chuckles at his excitable dad before looking to his mom, “mom. My contamination?”.

That gets both his parents attention, them blinking and going wide-eyed, “oh”.

Sam huffs and crosses her arms, “and really, you’d think you guys wouldn’t have teens, especially Danny, cleaning up down there if you even think you have stuff that can go off like this. It’s irresponsible”. Tucker chuckles, “I’m just glad we only look like ghosts“. Everyone, especially Danny’s parents, nod rapidly at that.

Tucker nodding his head at the lab doors, “I tried to find a reverse or the formula and back engineer it, but you guys forgot to do that... again”. Making both parents cringe a little, Jack rubbing his neck awkwardly.

Danny nods at Tucker before looking back to his folks, “so on that note, do you think you could fix this? Because you didn’t recognise us and I don’t think that Red will pause long enough to hear us out”. Sam scowls and rolls her eyes over that. Danny adding on, “something to at least get us looking human again. We can probably handle the adult-looking thing”.

Tucker chuckles and strokes his facial hair, “it is pretty neat”, smirking at his friends, “I bet the ladies will dig a guy with facial hair”, glancing to Danny’s face, “that isn’t on fire”. Both Sam and Danny predictably hit him.

“No trying to pick up older women, you pervert”.

“Hey, you can barely tell it’s flaming and you’re still you so don’t count on that”.

Tucker pouts at both of them, “why do you have to be so mean”, but obviously doesn’t mean it.

Maddie and Jack smile at the threes antics, if they hadn’t already been sure they would be now. Maddie smiles sweetly at Tucker, “you’re a minor. So please don’t do that”, shaking her head at him waving her off though knowing he probably won’t actually chase after an older woman. Looking to the three of them, “how about we get you three back down to the lab and see what we can do? Alright?”. The three look to each other, exchange shrugs, and following the pair of hunters down to the lab. Jack immediately bounding off and picking up the can.

None of the trio are really surprised that Maddie gets them to sit down and starts examining them, leaving the can to Jack. Her putting a stick in Danny’s mouth and blinking at the forked tongue, “well sweetie, you make for one very intimidating ghost”. Her continuing when the trio all cringe, “technically that’s a good thing. Ghosts are supposed to be scary, you wouldn’t want to be like the Box Ghost now would you?”, all three cringe way more over that, so Maddie gives a satisfied curt nod. While Danny starts fiddling with his tongue.

Maddie pokes at Sam’s flowers, “can you feel this?”.

“Yeah”, putting a little bite in her words, which sounds more than a little threatening with the echo, “so maybe don’t go ripping them off”. Maddie nods while Tucker chuckles, “man the echo sure changes the way we sound. I doubt you meant for that to sound like a threat”. Sam just huffs at that, making Danny and Tucker chuckle at her expense. Maddie, however, smiles slightly, relieved that she hadn’t actually been being threatened; it could always be hard to tell with Sam.

Maddie stares at and inspects Tucker’s skin quizzically, “we’ve never even seen a ghost with pure black skin before. Wonder why”. Everyone shrugs at that, except Jack who’s off in his own world tinkering away. Tucker snickers and elbows Danny, “well we’ve all seen ones with blue, isn’t that right”.

“Do you want me to punt you through a wall? I’m pretty sure I could very easily”, Danny flexes slightly for emphasis but facepalms at ripping sounds, “damnit”. Everyone else snorts and starts laughing at him.

Jack makes a hum that sounds more unhappy than anyone wants to hear, him grabbing Maddie’s arm to drag her over without even looking at her. The trio exchanging glances, all three muttering, “fuck”. Maddie turning around and looking a bit apologetic, “well, it seems that Danny’s contamination sort of... messed with things a little”. The trio groan. “Or rather, bonded with it. Even now the ecto that he sheds off is feeding into the chemical that’s in your systems. If you stayed away from him for at least a week you’d go back to normal on your own. But there doesn’t seem any way for us to artificially force this to revert”, sending Danny a very sympathetic look, “and I can’t see any way to fix this for you sweetie, sorry”.

Danny leans back and groans, before giving his friends awkward looks and rubbing his neck. They don’t even let him get a chance to say anything before Sam snaps, “not happening then”. Tucker nodding and smiling, “yeah, we’re not avoiding Danny-dude. And we’re especially not leaving him to put up with this by himself”. Maddie can’t help but smile at them, “you guys are probably the closest friends possible”. Which all three beams over, even if Danny still looks pretty apologetic.

Everyone turning their heads at Jack shouting, “ah-ha!”, and spinning around in his chair, “alright, so we totally can make another spay that could hide all this ghost-looking stuff!”, muttering at the floor, “won’t fix the aged up thing”, looking back to them, “but! It’ll get you looking human! All of you”. Earning grins all around.

Maddie looking back to the trio, “we’ll work on that, you three go upstairs and play games or eat. I don’t think any of us want you down here in case the prototype malfunctions”. Which all three laugh at.

“Yeah wouldn’t want to make this worse!”.

“Besides, Danny needs to change”.

“Hey. But yeah”.

Maddie shakes her head at the three as they head upstairs.

Danny flops down on his bed, having changed into a very stretchy sweater and sweats, “so I guess we’re stuck like this huh?”.

Sam giving a very apathetic, “yup”, as she flops down in her beanie, before wincing and sitting up, pulling her hair out of the way. Grumbling, “this is why I keep my hair short”. Tucker shakes his head around, making the dreads and metal on them smack his face, “I don’t know, it’s kinda fun”.

“Grow it to ass length and see how you feel then”.

“Naw, I’m a guy so”.

“Are you saying only girls can have long hair!”.

Danny snickers over what sounds like a mild slapping match. They’d be fine. School though, ho boy that was going to be a fucking trip. There was literally no way in all the infinite lands of the Ghost Realm that people wouldn’t freak over them looking like adults. Zone, he could see people asking to get sprayed too. Because honestly? Who wouldn’t want to automatically know how they’d look when they’re older. Danny gets that it’s a little less novel for him due to the whole Dan thing, but still. Adding in the ghost thing. Tilting his head, though it was kinda funny Sam wound up with flowers in her hair and wait... wasn’t the area around Tuck’s eyes a bit darker? Glancing at his friends and squinting, yeah Tuck looked like he kinda had makeup... on... wait a second. “Guys”, pointing at the two of them, “Pharaoh. Undergrowth”.

They both blink at him before Sam grabs at her hair and shoved a pocket mirror at Tucker to poke at his eyes. Tucker blinks and hands back over the mirror, “huh, well let’s not point this out to your folks. Like seriously dude”. Sam nods and frowns, “you don’t think this’ll give Undergrowth some control over me?”, looking between the two boys, “and should we really be surprised? We already knew the stuff that happened those times wasn’t really something that just goes away. Undergrowth adopted me”, pointing at Tucker, “and your soul is still T. Duulaman’s, sceptre or no”.

Danny hums and taps his chin, “I don’t think we have to worry about being controlled. We’re not actually ghosts. We just look like them. But fair point. And not like we can really do anything about it”. The two sighing, “yeah”. Danny points at them again, “but if this does start negatively affecting you guys, like our kind of negative, then you guys are staying away from me to get this to wear off. I’ll go hide at the ClockTower Citadel if I have too”. They both roll their eyes at his typical overprotective antics but they do nod.

Tucker points at him and leans forward, “honestly, you should visit ClockWork over this, I’m not sure if this ‘aged up’ thing would count as messing with time. Especially for other people to see”. Danny hums and nods at that. Sam nods herself and gets up to flop on the bed next to him, “and maybe ask them how to fix you. Because you being stuck ghost-looking in both forms screams bad news”.

Tucker joins them on Danny’s other side as Danny replies, “yeah. As it is when I’m an adult ghost my parents are so definitely going to put the pieces together now”. Both them snort at that, pointing out that that was ridiculously obvious. Tucker smacking him, “first, you need a bigger bed. Second, it’s not like you intended to keep this from them after Highschool anyway”.

Danny snorts, “true, on both accounts”.

It surprisingly doesn’t take long for Danny’s folks to barge into the room. Jack presenting a little perfume-looking bottle dramatically, “it’s done! And was surprisingly easy!”.

The trio blink, Sam muttering, “huh, that never happens for us”. Making them chuckle a little as they go about getting up. Danny asking, because he has to ask, “and it’s good for me? You checked it against my stuff?”.

Maddie nods at him reassuringly right off the bat, “no worries sweetie, that’s the first thing we did”. Which he grins over as the three stand to let themselves get a good spray down. Everyone watching in fascination as their skin starts patching back to their normal human skin tones. Jack actually whispering, “that looks so cool”, and Maddie patting him on the arm.

The first thing Danny does is pat his hair, sighing over it no longer being fire. “Awesome”, and puts his hand to his throat, “huh”.

Tucker blinks at him, “you know, without the echo you actually sound kinda sexy”. Everyone looks at Tucker with disbelief; Sam smacking him over the head. Everyone starts laughing after a bit though.

Danny giving his mom a hug, which is weird with her being so much smaller than him, “thanks mom”. She leans up to ruffle his hair, looking slightly apologetic, “of course, Danny. And we’ll try to keep the volatile stuff put away from now on”. Sam and Tucker snicker knowing that won’t even last a week. Never did. Danny just laughs, “appreciated”, even if he also knew it wouldn’t last.

Jack laughs, hands on his hips, “well you kids’ make for pretty fine looking adults!”. The three all grinning at him. But that gets Maddie to tilt her head and squint at Danny. Him quirking a sharp eyebrow at her before she leans forward and sticks her fingers in his mouth, “uhhhhh”.

Jack and Maddie both blink at him, though Sam and Tucker bend over laughing. Maddie speaking up, “you have fangs still”. Danny leans back to get her fingers out of his mouth, “ah well, my contamination was bound to affect me, right?”, and rubs his tongue over his teeth. At least his tongue wasn’t still forked. That was something.

Tucker leans over and flicks his ear, “ears are pointy too”, and snickers. Danny batting away his hand.

Maddie frowns a little but nods, “yes, I guess that would make sense. Can’t say I like it though”. Jack waves her off, “oh it looks manly on him! And people intentionally get their teeth and ears pointed sometimes! Right Sam?”. Sam nods but is frankly surprised he’s waving this off. Honestly, so is Danny.

Maddie purses her lips but nods, “you do have a point”, looking to Danny, “well I guess you better get used to it. You’re stuck with it”.

Danny shrugs, “eh I’m not complaining. Didn’t even notice”, baring his teeth, “are they that noticeable though?”. Sam rolls her eyes, “yes”. While Tucker snorts, “Vlad would be jealous”.

Jack tilts his head, “Vladdie has fangs?”. All three blink at him in disbelief and speak in unison, “you didn’t notice?”. Jack shakes his head and shrugs, while Maddie taps her chin, “now that I think about it, yeah I’ve noticed. But it’s been so long that I don’t think I really notice any more”.

Sam mutters, “that tracks”, to herself. Danny rubs his neck, “ah well hopefully you’ll get used to mine then too I guess”, he seriously can’t believe his dad’s never noticed though. Vlad flashed them threateningly all the time. Or maybe Danny was just more likely to notice thanks to heightened vision and ghost instincts.

Maddie hums, “well anyway, you kids should get some rest before school tomorrow. I don’t doubt that will be a bit hectic”.

All three giving matching deadpanned, “obviously”’s. As the couple turn to leave, not without Jack patting Danny’s head excitedly though.

The three stare at the door for a beat. Tucker clapping Danny on the back, “I think your dad likes the height”. Sam rolling her eyes as she moves back to the bed, “only because someone’s finally taller than him”.

Danny shrugs as him and Tucker move to join her, “eh, can’t say I blame him. It’s just like how being around ghosts that are actually stronger than me makes me feel less overpowered”, squinting at them, “and no, I don’t just mean ClockWork”, which earns laughs from the two.

Sam sighs into the blankets, “you know, when you’re an adult, an actual adult ghost, ClockWork probably will be the only one”. Danny grumbles, “don't remind me”. Which she snorts at.

Tucker rolls over and watches the ceiling a little, “at least being stuck as adults will really only be weird for a few years”, fiddling with his hair a little bit, “think I should keep the dreads?”.

Danny just grunts while Sam actually answers the boy, “they suit you. Keep ‘em. Why do you think I went and gave you fake ones when you tried the whole goth thing”. Now it’s Tucker’s turn to groan, “now don’t remind me”. Making them all laugh.

“Hey, nothing could compare to Sam’s pink get-up when I un-half-died”. Sam hits Danny for that one. Sam smacking Tucker for good measure, “you’re never going to live down hitting on me”.

“More like never going to not wish you hadn’t said yes before I realised you were you”. Sam shoves him off the bed with a scowl for that one.

Danny mumbles, “sleep sleep time”, and sticks his arm over the bed to physically drag Tucker back up, “come here pillow”, and wraps his arms around both of them tightly.

Tucker chuckles, “your hands are fucking huge now. Seeing that coming for my face was mildly horrifying”. Danny just grumbles incoherently into the bed. Sam sighs, “you’re not going to let us up, are you?”.

Danny grins into the bed, “nope. You’re trapped now”. Earning fond sighs from the two as they settle in to sleep.

#ectober #ectober2020 #ectober 2020 #danny phantom #phandom #aged up #but not in the way you think #adult ghost selves #science weirdness #crack treated seriously #fan fic #phan phic #my writing #have a fic suck my dick #phantomphangphucker

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immortalcoelacanth · 3 years

Text

HLVRAI Oneshot: Panic

Here I am flicking back through my massive collection of wips and slowly chipping away at them since I have some neat ideas stashed away I want to actually finish and not just leave in limbo for ten thousand years XD

Word count: 3610

Summary: There were only three things that Benrey was truly scared of. The first, skeletons. The second was Gordon hating him. The third…Was the sound of Joshua crying.

Fear.

An emotion Benrey had little to no experience with.

Of course, that did not mean that he never felt fear, but it was rare for something to make him feel afraid. Pain never frightened him due to his natural healing abilities, considered to be more of an annoyance than something bad, nor was he scared of death.

Being able to respawn had its benefits, after all.

It was somewhat ironic that he had only started to feel fear, genuine fear, after sneaking into Black Mesa and taking on the role of being a security guard. In the darkness of those labs he had seen something.

Something that reminded him of why he had fled in the first place. A flashback to the moment he had first felt that heart-stopping, nauseating sense of dread and fear.

Benrey was scared of skeletons. Not just his own in that metaphorical closet, but of those that followed and watched. The ones whose whispered words floated through the air, indecipherable to all but him.

Their promises and threats.

Skeletons never forgot.

… Working at Black Mesa had also brought about more chances for him to interact with the local humans, and not so humans, that he worked with. Most of them were pretty bland, sounding monotonous and bored, but he had managed to make friends with some of the more… explosive, and energetic personalities.

Like Gordon.

His introduction and subsequent interactions with Gordon brought about his second experience with fear. Not that he was scared of the man, despite all the times Gordon had shot at him or threatened him. It was like watching an angry kitten hiss and spit.

Adorable, and not at all threatening.

No, his fear revolved around Gordon hating him. Disliking him, fighting with him, and all those other icky negative feelings. The anger that had taken over the earlier part of their budding friendship had been… painful, to say the least. Every time he interacted with Gordon, he felt scared.

Scared in a way that he had never felt when interacting with others. Scared he would mess up and never be able to fix his mistake. Scared he would hurt Gordon-

And he had.

It was awful feeling such a way, looking back and cringing at how his fear tainted nearly every interaction he had with Gordon. How hard he had pushed for friendship, for companionship, without really conveying his intentions or how he felt. It was something he still struggled with, discussing things that seemed obvious to so many people but were confusing, downright alien, to him.

But, in the end, everything had worked out alright and he had managed to apologize for the pain he had caused and what he had done, and Gordon had apologized as well. A welcome surprise that helped set their relationship down a more positive path, even if that fear still lurked in the back of his mind.

Fortunately, Gordon was there to reassure him and help work through any problems.

His third source of fear, funnily enough, involved Gordon’s son, Joshua.

Joshua Freeman.

Like his father, Benrey was not scared of the young boy. In all actuality, he cared about him immensely. Little Joshie was a bro, a cool cat, and the second human Benrey had found himself truly caring for. They were not quite family, but those protective instincts were there.

The want to keep Joshua safe, to make sure he was happy and healthy no matter what.

Which was why Benrey was so, very scared.

Kids were small, fragile, and that made it all the easier for them to get hurt, or die. Plus some kids could be downright nasty to their peers, something Benrey had learned about first hand when the school had contacted Gordon about a situation. Things were fine now, but the immense amount of dread and worry, the fear, that had filled Benrey upon learning about what happened had been… something, to say the least.

Gordon needed to fix a total of four, thankfully small, holes in the ceiling afterwards.

It would not be correct to say that Benrey hovered over Joshua as his protective feelings culminated in a sort of awareness. He did not hover, but he was aware of the young boy, aware of where he was and what he was doing. There were times where he was even aware of Joshua’s heartbeat.

Something that helped quite a bit when Benrey was awake and Joshua was caught in a nightmare.

Funnily enough, these traits made Benrey the perfect fit for acting as a sort of babysitter when Gordon had to go out and leave Joshua at home. Since the boy already had a slight grasp on how to take care of himself, such as making sandwiches with leftovers and how to clean up after himself, it made the whole “watching over the kid and keeping him from dying” significantly easier.

… Granted, Benrey still had to take a crash course on what not to do when taking care of human kids.

Accidental toxin consumption, drowning in a tub, tripping and cracking their head on something-

Kids were just so. Damn. Fragile.

Fear, fear, and more fear. The fear that something would happen to Joshua when he was not paying attention. The fear of what might happen, the dozens of possible situations. Fires and explosions, and sudden earthquakes-

Babysitting was a bit of a challenge for Benrey, to say the least.

Fortunately, Joshua was a pretty responsible kid with a good head on his shoulders, and while there was the occasional mishap that would occur, it was never anything too serious.

… Until now, that is.

Things had been going smoothly, Joshua and Benrey were gaming together while Gordon was out with Shea completing whatever important information thingy they needed to do. Benrey knew that it involved Joshua in some regard, something involving his sleep therapist? Maybe? Whatever it was, the young boy had not expressed an interest in going, so it had been decided that Benrey would watch over him until Gordon came back.

A simple plan that was easy to execute. Just make sure Joshie ate, did his homework, and didn’t get too bored.

Simple, that is, until Benrey heard the sounds of Joshua crying in another room.

He immediately jumped up out of the chair he had been seated in and sprinted towards where the sounds were coming from. He quickly noted that the crying was coming from Joshua’s room, and without hesitating he ran inside.

There he found the young boy seated on the carpeted floor, one leg bent and tucked up against his chest while his arms were tightly wrapped around it. His hands were clasped tightly over his wounded knee and his head, which had previously been facing the ground, snapped up to stare at Benrey.

Tears were already falling out of the corner of Joshie’s eyes. It made him cringe at the sight, discomfort building up within him.

“it’s gonna be okay, joshie bro.” Benrey soothed as he crouched down in front of the crying boy, looking him in the eye while sending him what he hoped was a reassuring smile that conveyed none of his worries. “gonna get you fixed up lickity split.”

Okay, Joshie was hurt, but Gordon had given him an overview on how to fix cuts and scrapes. First he had to check it out, then he had to clean it, and then slap a bandaid or some other bandage on it depending on the size. Easy problem, easy fix-

Benrey’s train of thought came to an abrupt halt as his eyes landed on the boy’s scraped knee, fixating on the droplets of blood that were slowly budding up with the occasional droplet rolling down and leaving a streak of crimson in its wake.

Blood, blood-

Gordon, hunched over and full of panic, of fear. Eyes wide in the gloom as the soldiers manhandled him, pinning him in place. His struggling.

His pleading.

His screaming as the blade dug into his arm, blood spurting out of the freshly made wound. The stench of copper permeating the air.

Tommy desperately trying to get to Gordon, Coomer holding the other man back before he got hurt.

The cracking sound of bone breaking.

Gordon dropping to the ground, screams reaching a pitch higher than Benrey thought possible.

An arm, discarded, as the pool of blood around the nearly unconscious man grew.

It was all his fault-

Unbeknownst to Benrey, Joshua had quickly picked up on the change in his mood. He sniffled, wiped his eyes once more, and took stock of the situation. Benrey definitely looked upset, and was still staring at his knee.

First he stood up, wincing as a sharp sting of pain jolted through his knee, but he ignored it in favour of focusing on Benrey. The man’s breathing was quick and raspy, his skin pale, and it looked like he was sweating. He seemed to be staring at some very far away, trembling the entire time.

It reminded Joshua of something his father had gone through, a panic attack. He knew his dad took medication for it sometimes, but he knew it would be a bad idea to give Benrey some.

You never, ever gave someone medication that did not belong to them. An important lesson both his parents had instilled in him.

Fortunately, his dad has also been taught different things that would help calm him down, which he had then passed on to Joshua. Surprisingly enough, the young boy found them to be useful when he was feeling quite anxious, so if they helped him and helped his dad, then it made sense that maybe those methods would help Benrey too!

But before he could help Benrey, he needed to help himself and fix whatever had caused the man to panic so bad in the first place. Maybe then he would start to calm down and feel better. With a plan in mind, Joshua nodded to himself and rushed to the bathroom where he knew the first aid kit was kept, wanting to be away from Benrey for as little time as possible.

After scrubbing off the bit of blood that was still staining his skin with some warm water, and wincing a bit from the friction, he quickly dried his knee off and placed a bandaid over the wound. Now it was all covered up and fixed!

And hopefully would not cause Benrey to get worse…

Joshua rushed back to his room, Benrey thankfully still in the same spot and just as out of it as he was before. A determined look crossed the young boy’s face as he swiftly got to work. Carefully grabbing the man’s arm, Joshua shook the limb to see if he could snap him out of his panicked state this way.

“Benrey? You okay?”

Nothing. No response.

Dejection set in for a moment before Joshua brushed his feelings to the side, focusing on continuing with his next plan. Still holding onto Benrey’s arm, he started trying to pull the man towards his bed. Of course, there were several problems with this plan, like the fact that Joshua lacked the real strength to move the catatonic man, but to his surprise, his actions garnered a response.

Granted, it was only Benrey looking at him, eyes still blank and breathing uneasy, but it was something!

Joshua smiled at the progress and got to work on trying to get him to move. It took some time, and careful maneuvering combined with some soft-spoken suggestions, but eventually he was able to achieve his goal.

Once Benrey was finally settled on his bed, Joshua got to work doing what he could to help him feel comfortable. A weighted blanket was placed on his shoulders and a stuffed animal was placed in his arms, Benrey instinctively tightly holding onto the toy and rubbing the soft, warm fur.

Slowly but surely, Benrey started to calm down. First, his breathing began to slow, returning to a more normal pace, and then the trembling eventually came to a halt. Encouraged by these hopeful changes, Joshua stayed glued to his side, softly humming under his breath as he kicked his legs.

He would wait for Benrey, no matter how long it took.

Fortunately, the man was slowly roused from his frightened state, awareness returning to him. His eyes opened and he blinked slowly, as if he was just waking up from a dream, before glancing at the worried boy beside him. Benrey mumbled, voice strangely quiet and weak.

“joshie?”

“Mhm?” Joshua paused in the kicking of his legs in order to look up at the man, eyes wide and full of worry. “You feeling better, Benrey?”

“... yeah.” He replied after thinking about how best to respond. “thanks for… uh, helping me out and stuff. real pro gamer move.”

Joshua beamed at his words, mood brightening in an instant, and he opened his mouth to ask if the man needed anything. However, before he could start speaking, Benrey continued his train of thought.

“you... you shouldn’t have to… deal with this. with me. i’m sorry.” He mumbled as he huddled up in the blanket, hiding his face from view. He felt…

Like a disappointment, pathetic he had forced Joshua to deal with his problem, sad to know that the boy had seen him in such a state, angry with himself-

Bad.

He felt really, really bad.

Benrey was snapped out of his mental torment by the sensation of someone touching his knee. He jolted and looked back at Joshua, easily noticing how much more concerned the boy had gotten in response to his silence.

He winced.

He didn’t want to make Joshie feel bad, too.

Then again, that was practically his specialty at this point. Making people feel bad. How many times had he made Gordon rage, shout and curse, or breakdown due to his shenanigans. How many times had he felt Tommy’s silent disappointment and the weight of the team pressing down upon him.

How many times would he make Joshie feel bad-

“oof!” The sudden weight against his side knocked both those thoughts from Benrey’s mind, as well as the air from his lungs. He wheezed softly as he instinctively wrapped an arm around Joshua.

Joshua, who had in a moment of brilliance, decided to fling himself at the man in order to hug him.

“Don’t think sad things.” Joshua insisted as he buried his face into Benrey’s shoulder.

“i’m not-” Benrey started to object before the boy continued speaking.

“You are sad! Dad gets the same look on his face when he thinks about sad stuff.” The boy huffed, clinging tightly to Benrey. “Like… when he and mom first split up, he always looked so sad. Like he had done something bad and felt guilty.”

Well, this conversation had taken quite the accidental, serious turn. Rarely had he ever heard Joshua talk about the divorce, same with Gordon and Shea. From what he knew the family had managed to cope quite well with the two adults separating, but dramatic shows about breakups, the law, and hospitals, had shown him that humans generally did not feel good after such a thing, and the last thing he wanted was for Joshua to linger and think about potentially bad stuff. Time to talk and change topics, even if he did not want to.

“i... i’m supposed to-to watch over you and stuff. keep you safe, but… but i didn’t. that’s bad.”

“But it’s not your fault! You didn’t do anything bad!” Joshua objected, backing up a bit so he could look Benrey in the eye, despite the man doing his best to avoid eye contact. His fingers dug deeply into the plushie, and his breathing grew faster.

He messed up, he messed up, he messed up-

Seeing that the conversation was going to go nowhere with Benrey getting all panicked, the young boy decided it would be best to stay quiet for now and help him relax. The last thing he wanted was for Benrey to feel sad or guilty, he had seen enough of that when his father and mother apologized to him for their separation, and it always made Joshua feel weird.

Nothing bad was happening to him, if anything it was nice to see his parents become happier, to see them less stressed. He wanted Benrey to be happy, for him to never have to go through a panic attack like that again.

But… that also meant he would need help that Joshua could not provide. He needed the stuff that helped his dad, adult things he knew little about, but hopefully his dad would know something about how to help.

As Benrey slowly calmed down from his second panic attack, Joshua spoke up once more, wanting to talk about one last thing before he left the man alone to rest and recover.

“Benrey… can I tell dad about what happened?”

The question made Benrey immediately cringe in discomfort, ducking his head and hiding himself under more of the blanket until only his glowing eyes were visible.

“you... uh, you gotta do that?”

“Dad knows more about this kinda stuff, so he’d be able to help!”

Help…? With… whatever that was? With his fears? The thought of such a thing was unsettling to say the least. In all his years, Benrey had never actively sought out help, his interactions with Gordon being outliers of course.

What would being helped entail, anyways? Would Gordon try to get him to go to therapy, something that would never, ever truly be able to help him, or would the physicist push him to find help from other sources.

“you sure you wanna bother feetman about this?” Benrey asked, wanting to both distract himself from the darker thoughts lurking in the back of his mind, and out of genuine curiosity. “you... you really wanna help? why?”

“Because I don’t want you to feel bad, and dad doesn’t either.” Joshua replied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re important to us, you’re dad’s gamer boyfriend! And my… uh, I’m not sure, but you’re still family, and family helps family!”

“... joshie, bro, you-you’re breaking my heart, my man.” Benrey mumbled as he sent the boy a shaky smile. He still felt fairly drained from his two panic attacks, especially since he could feel the lingering dread and fear, but he did his best to push it to the side for now.

Later, he could deal with it later.

… Hopefully with Gordon.

“So that’s a yes?”

“yuuuuuuup, it’s a pog-ya.” The man grinned as he reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair. “you... you did good joshie, real good, with the uhhhhhhh helping and stuff. emotions are bleck, super unpoggers.”

Eyes full of love and support, Joshua leaned forward and hugged Benrey. “It’s okay to not be okay. Dad says it’s healthy to cry when you feel really sad and to ask for help when you need it.”

“... feetman’s got a point sometimes.” He was unable to fully suppress the tears that quickly built up in the corners of his eyes, the words hitting home for some strange reason.

It’s okay to not be okay.

It’s okay to ask for help.

It’s okay to cry.

A string of dull sweet voice escaped Benrey, and Joshua hugged him even tighter. This was the worst time to be having such an emotional revelation, but then again he supposed there was no good time to contemplate facing such a vulnerable part of him, to think about addressing his fears and emotions.

Emotions he had tried so hard to suppress, to hide, but always bubbled up and hurt him in the end.

You couldn’t run from your own shadow, after all.

“know when feetman’s gonna be back?” He asked as he let out a quiet sigh, more of that dull sweet voice filling the air. He felt so tired, so drained. All he wanted was to take a nap and wake up in twenty years.

… Not that he could, of course. Too many games to play and too many special moments between him, Joshie, and Gordon he would miss.

“Nope.” Joshua replied while shaking his head. “Want me to stay?”

Damn this kid could be so observant.

“... can if you wanna.” Benrey muttered while flopping onto his side and hiding himself more under the blanket, making the signature benrrito they all knew and loved.

Rather than verbally respond, Joshua just scooted over a bit so he was leaning against Benrey’s back. After cuddling up to the exhausted man, he started humming.

The tune was simple, soft, and definitely from some Sonic game that Benrey could not identify at the moment. It was one of the older ones, that was for sure, older in the context of the series’ lifespan rather than actual age, and it helped him calm down further.

Slowly, his eyes began to shut and his breathing evened out. The tension that had gripped his body faded, and the chill that had taken over him began to fade due to the warmth of the blanket combined with Joshua’s presence.

He was still scared. Scared of his reaction to the bl-

…

The red stuff that was definitely not cherry sauce, and he was scared of what that reaction meant. He was scared to think about such things, things he had never contemplated before.

Scared to confront what he had ignored for so long. But, even with this fear, he would try.

It’s okay to ask for help.

He would try. Try for Joshua, for Gordon, and just maybe for himself, too.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

God, every character I write needs therapy XD

I hope you all enjoyed reading!

- ImmortalCoelacanth

#my story #fanfiction #hlvrai #hlvrai benrey #hlvrai joshua #hurt/comfort #panic attacks #benrey has ptsd and needs help #joshua is a sweet boy who just wants to help #brief description of gordon's arm being cut off #blood #traumatic flashbacks #hlvrai fic

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spicymishtii · 4 years

Text

HE(ART) • Victuuri

Prelude

Victor Nikivorov x Katsuki Yuuri

Parallel universe AU

Belief.

Ignorance is a bliss and a bitch, a generally popular universal truth, but hey, if that bitch has aided you to slap a quarter of your life with a big bold try me placard by your inner self-uplifter and has made you immune to this oh-so-evil humankind, you would believe the power of ignorance is not just a bliss but a fucking blessing. Unfortunately which, it seems only a chosen few possess.

Hence by laws of the hypothetically giving-a-fuck universe, Katsuki Yuuri just so happens to be one of the few elites. Though his ability is not that of intentional ignorance but plain old oblivion.

At the most recent occasion—that is right now—his ignorance can also be replaced with the fact that he’s running so he doesn’t really have much fuck to give to peers turning around from all directions to look at him.

And while that on a calmer day might reassure his questionable fashion choices, today he knows, he knows he smells dangerous enough to cause an epidemic merely by existing.

You see it was not his fault that his naïve (motherfucking) juniors tried moving an entire rack of chemicals that had just so happened to consist of all variants of Thioacetone.

Of course, the idea couldn't be any worse and by the end of screams, flailings, glass breakings, and trickling of the solutions to any and every corner of the room the lab had come to smell like diarrhea at a super level. He hates college.

After picking his nails while half-heartedly listening to the threats and scolding the ultimate seniors (those crazy Einstein-haired Ph.D. ones) had given to those juniors (who resembled a group of terrified hamsters by then), he reckoned it okay for him to slip out quietly.

He’s sneaky, sue him.

Cue his professor’s email.

He has special ding-ring-ring! notification in his baby to clearly inform him of the demise he acquires from his soul-suckers every now and then. Not that he doesn’t like his professors (he loves and respects them thank you very much), it’s just he’s so tired. Almost fourth year into college and he has given up on his personal and social life.

He has even forgotten the last time he masturbated. Rimming his textbooks (plus internet), mating his chemicals and blowing his assignments are on the verge of making him question his sexuality. But then he remembers, how he has always known what he was signing up for all those years back.

And if he wants to reach the finale, he gotta ace this final. And if he wants to ace the final, submitting his paper on Organic synthesis via Enolates before midnight is a nice starting point.

So he continues to torture his suppressed Usain Bolt gene while eloquently cursing his very respectable prof to be traditional as fuck and not utilize the normal idea of e-mailing.

For the total amount of time and energy his legs have flown him by, he thinks he deserves to be all the way across Iceland, instead, he makes peace with reality whilst reaching the dorms. He’s humble, you’re welcome.

One day, one day, he’s going to go on strike and petition to the admins for a goddamn lift. He has no care about learning to be punctual or money which he knows they won’t have any problem with; he and he’s sure every single living creature in college needs one elevator in their dorms just as badly as Romeo might have all those years back.

But he'll think about it later when his whole third year is not on the line. He needs to get to the most crucial year and graduate the fuck out of this hellhole.

The stairs squeezed out whatever hope was left within his knees until he’s left banging on the door akin to a lunatic with both of his hands. It’s a bad day—the chronicle since this sunny morning is proof enough—so he wasn’t surprised when halfway through his journey he had realized his dorm keys have been forgotten in his lab coat. Why he had even bothered to flick it out of his bag he doesn’t know but life is all about learning through mistakes so.

He can hear the shrill tone of his platonic soulmate/roommate shouting Who the fuck is this?! from inside but he’s too breathless to answer. The door snaps open only seconds later revealing a fuming owner of three hamsters that are perched on different heights of his body.

The person’s expression morphs into that of confusion then concern then suspicion then understanding and lastly deadpan. Yuuri flings his body on the said hamster-father who accepts him with a squeak and almost imbalance.

Subsequently closing the door and carrying the skeleton, Phichit Chulanot has once again proved himself to be The Best Friend™, something he’s going to rub on Yuuri’s face later.

As soon as Phichit sits both of them down on their excuse of a couch, Yuuri shoots up hitting Phichit’s jaw in the process.

“You—,”

“Later Chu!” he cuts the upcoming verbal splash fast and sprints inside his room, snatches the file and he’s out the door screaming bye. He loves Phichit for not barbequing him or offering him up to an asylum and staying by his side loyally.

He has been honestly touched since the time Phichit got so used to unearthly smells on his body that he doesn’t even ask or get mildly uncomfortable now, and readily accepts hugs and cuddles from the human equivalent of a drain. He could never thank the universe enough.

He could faintly hear his platonic soulmate’s voice above his head so he looks up while continuing to dash down the stairs and finds Phichit leaning dangerously down the railing of their floor and shouting something he can’t really make sense of.

“What?!” shouts Yuuri, faltering a little in his pace.

“I said come back home at human hours we gotta be somewhere tonight!” yells back Phichit.

Not again.

“Ugh I’ll try!” he huffs out, almost slipping on the latest step.

“Bitch I’m going to murder you if you don’t get your nasty ass inside before nine it’s important!” screeches Phichit.

“I’ll hecking try I promise!”

“Yuuri it’s really important I have people you need to meet!”

“And I have a year I need to pass I’ll try my absolute best Chi, have faith!” yells back Yuuri and jumps over the last three steps hurrying out the building screaming outta ma way! to everyone around.

Then, he runs.

Their campus is a beautiful place with all the ponds and cherry blossoms that bloom at this point of the year. There are a few benches scattered around along with some intricately designed bushes and trees beaming at him from wherever eyes could reach.

Though the inside of their college buildings are technologically advanced, the outer environment gives off an early Japanese town vibe. He isn’t shy to admit his practice of favoritism regarding one particular pond and cherry blossom tree on his way to the library (where his professor probably is doing his own research).

His lungs are quite significantly burning from whatever the fuck adrenaline did to his conscience but he is one obdurate masochist so his voluntary muscles abide by his brain. His throat is all dried up and his breath keeps getting caught, he doesn’t understand why he is torturing himself this way but then a voice in his head answers he doesn’t have enough money to repeat a year so.

At one point his vision blurs but he supposes it’s because of his lack of sleep. Well, he is pretty exhausted.

Nearing the pleasant scenery, naturally, he glances towards his favorite chilling spot but what he sees effectively makes him stop.

The cherry blossoms, which were supposed to be all fresh and full and thick and brimming with life… is barren. Not a single petal could be seen even beneath the tree, only the desolate brown of winding branches doing little to nothing in shading the newly painted bench underneath it.

It’s detached, the way the bare tree and the empty bench overlook the clear water of the small pond in front; it’s so cold, so lonely, it has never been lonely around it.

A breeze blows by, weakly stroking the skin of his neck and fingers that are exposed. He shivers; it's cold.

It’s spring. He wonders if temperatures can drop so much in the afternoon because he definitely remembers the morning to be all warm and sunny and most importantly, he remembers seeing the tree, the full-thick-jovial tree only yesterday on his way to class.

He, on every molecular level, doesn’t know how what he is seeing right now is even possible. Surely he shouldn’t be the only one right?

His eyes rake over the students running or just walking by around him but none of them look mildly uncomfortable with this situation. He wonders if there has been an experiment or an artificial situation that caused his pretty little blossoms to leave without a farewell.

He wouldn't be surprised if it is so, after all, what he learns on a daily basis about the expertise of this century, he’s sure if there’s something other than criticism that doesn’t faze him anymore, it’s human intelligence. His only discomfort is how and why he hasn’t heard about it of all people.

There is a buzz on his upper thigh through the thin fabric of his ash-colored pajamas. He slips out his phone and stares at the notification of a text from his classmate informing him of his presence being required asap in the library.

Yuuri mutters a shit and pockets the phone, breathing in to keep the formation of lactic acid at a bare minimum for the rest of his way. He peeks back one last time at his beloved, ready to depart, but once again what he sees effectively freezes him.

Because they’re full. The fucking cherry blossoms are full.

Yuuri opens and closes his mouth like a fish in the middle of the street to try and explain whatever happened just now to himself.

He fails.

He’s about to start pointing accusingly at the tree to every passerby and shout in their face if they too saw what he did but surprisingly stops himself before making another rash decision in his life.

He keeps standing quietly before he decides that yes he needs to go sleep before he goes mad for real and maybe get his eyesight checked as well.

He turns around, shakes his head to pull himself out from whatever trance he is in and notes to allow himself to rest. As he has only this assignment to submit, he doesn't think anything can stop him from going dead this weekend, so he pushes himself one last time and promises himself a while of tranquility later.

But this time, he jogs.

Jogs are quite neat, rhythmic and luckily good for health—he will say if you ask him. Considering the number of times he has jogged to reach his lecture halls or played around with Phichit, he can probably say it’s what that has kept him from wilting away like the autumn leaves after inhaling those oil and grease that comes with the college life.

If we ignore the biologically healthy benefits of the kind, he appreciates jogs much more because of his bestie, as all things considered, these are the only moments when they both could goof and run around like they're meant to do without having the weight of both their majors hovering over them like a depressing gray cloud. Phichit misses him, he knows. But Yuuri will go down arguing he misses him more and he rarely lies.

Yuuri stares at the ceiling mutely, a pencil flicking in his hand every now and then.

Phichit glances at him just as quietly while continuing his essay on medieval era music from where he’s sprawled on Yuuri’s bed.

He takes a quick peek at the ceiling then at Yuuri then at the ceiling and then Yuuri. He sums up nothing.

“What are you thinking about? Don’t you have a test tomorrow?”

Yuuri’s gaze doesn’t waver. The pencil between his fingers stops spinning.

“Us.”

Phichit snorts. “You fell in love with me?”

“No, I have standards,” Yuuri replies seriously (“Hey—”) “I just—don’t you sometimes think we were meant to meet, meant to be best friends—be together till now and years to come—and even if we weren’t, we were meant to die together as complete strangers—if that would’ve gone off—as an apology or like, a tribute from the universe for the friendship that we have today that wouldn’t have existed then.

Like there’s this fate, which decides everything for everyone and time which, like you are to me, is the same to fate and both map and plan out everything for everyone from their beginning till end and all the coincidences in between. People say all those quotes about how we write our own fate but in reality, we don’t write shit.

Time makes us do what we do and fate then gives us whatever our actions have earned—good or bad. We both earned to meet each other—time pushed us to the right point and fate just did its magic in return.

They always leave a door open for what-ifs to be guesstimated; they give us doors to go through—most of the time they pull through whichever door we eventually stand across and sometimes they push ’cause they need to. We were pushed Phichit—we were pushed in that lake together to drown—we were pushed to be saved and then, we were pulled to be friends, slowly, at our own pace.

But what if we would have drowned? What if you wouldn’t have jumped in naively to save me when you didn’t know a cent about swimming? What if it had gotten too late? What if the ambulance had got caught up? What if the doctors failed to push out the water from our lungs? What if we had died, together?

They tend to leave these what-ifs a lot so we reflect. We reflect and either we grow better or worse, unlike itself. The universe is so stable, isn't it? With all the dark matter and the little white ones in it—quite like human personality yet it’s us who keep changing; we’re irregular, varying.

Besides that, I wonder if any more pushes are left, any more pushes to land me somewhere crucial yet, because at this point I think I’ve utilized all my pulls. Don’t you, Chi? Don’t you think about the universe?”

Yuuri stares back at Phichit who has gone silent.

Yuuri raises a brow; Phichit closes his mouth.

“Exactly what’s going on in that head of yours? Yuuri are you… are you okay? Why are you talking like this? Just half an hour ago we were having a debate on Teletubbies—you—what, why?” Phichit asks in disbelief.

Yuuri rolls his eyes.

“Just because.”

Phichit looks like he is about to go big bro mode and ask whatever the hell he meant just now but he cannot find a head or tail of how to begin so he shuts up and heaves a breath aggressively.

“We must, shouldn’t we? we’re not even at quarter to our lives. There must still be something, something big, something extravagant—something that push worthy. They should’ve planned it by now. Fate must be waiting; time is slow. Will you be ready for another ‘Kimi no Na wa’-level change in your life?” Yuuri wiggles his eyebrows.

Phichit sighs and decides to go along even though he’s still one hundred percent blank.

“I’ll learn if not,”

"Hmm… we always do I guess.”

Yuuri pushes the door slowly that opens with a haunted creak, the sound pretty much deafening in what it seems a deserted library if not for the clear clicks of keyboard keys from somewhere deep inside. He closes the door as silently as he can with the inevitable old wood creaks.

His slippers tap loudly on the polished marble of fused colors whilst he tries to follow the echo of keys. The library feels odd, this being the first time for him witnessing it so solitary, bleak. He wonders if the students are hidden in corners for their own space. His eyes scan through the shelves to search for anyone, or preferably his teacher. He passes by an aisle quickly noticing motion from his peripheral vision before he backtracks.

There sits his teacher, typing away on his laptop with as much concentration as he narrates his golden days during a substitute class. The volume and number of books sprawled across the table is no joke. Yuuri knows he doesn't want Ph.D. and definitely not Research but the scenes of pure mental torture still cultivates a shudder within him.

He clears his throat. He is ignored.

He sighs and makes way to his teacher’s chair.

“Sir?” he knocks on the table. His professor flinches hard at the interruption.

“Oh… oh you. Don’t scare an old man that way, you imbecile,” he huffs.

Yuuri ignores the comment (he’s used to it) and retrieves the file from his bag.

“Here, sir. By the way, did you ask for me?” he places the file beside a book lying open.

“Oh yes, yes. I need your help young man. I hope it’s not a bother,” he gives Yuuri a quick look and goes back to typing.

“Sure, no problem,” there goes my tranquility, “What for, if I may ask?”

“Thank you very much Yuuri, it’s really appreciated. You just have to type the rest of this document from this paper I have already written and save it. You can leave after that, just shoot me a quick text,”

“Are you leaving Professor Cialdini?”

"Oh yes. I have a meeting with the other professors in the Science department that I couldn't miss for my life. It’s about you lot after all,” the professor teases, “And I need to get this shithead done and published before I die. I refuse to leave earth without doing it so I’ll be very thankful if you just type out the last page. You’re the most reliable regarding this affair, although a little inelegant but it’s just typing and I couldn’t choose anyone else.”

Was that a compliment or insult?

“So I’ll be leaving the rest to you,” his professor pats his shoulder to which he offers his trademark smile and nods.

Professor Cialdini takes his file and disappears around the shelf, the echo of his boots fading. Yuuri heaves a long, long sigh and hopes the writing on this one page is at least eligible. He shrugs off his bag and pushes the chair back to sit down following the faint sound of the door closing.

He checks the page closely from where he’s been told to copy and cracks his knuckles. His professor’s handwriting is shit as expected. Floating his fingers above the keys, his elbow knocks out the spectacles case his professor must have forgotten about. He presses his lips in judgment.

He bends down, folding his body, to retrieve the case and lean back up after getting a hold. Except in the process, his head hits brutally at the table’s edge and he groans, immediately messaging the throbbing area. He tries opening his eyes but everything surprisingly goes into a blur for such a simple hit, it’s as if the blur from a while ago has increased tenfold.

His head hurts not only from the impact but the sides and all over, his head pounds. He senses a feeling similar to being clogged by water. He feels as if he is drowning all over again the way he had those years ago. He can’t speak and his throat indulges to emit only whimpers which are way too cryptic and way too hushed.

He is practically thrashing around in his seat causing the chair to go off-balance several times yet his legs can't find any stored glucose to provide for the use of them.

There’s a shrill sharp beak of sound in his ears which is raucous and increases the hurting of his skull intensively. He wants to shout but he can’t. He bangs his head down on the keyboard, holding it and tugging his hair roughly. He feels so, so exhausted. Grey dots in a vast plain of blackness keep appearing without fail and it is probably what he sees, feels before his body gives up in place of his fortitude.

End prelude.

#au #writerblr #yuri on ice #victor #yuuri #writing #fanfiction #my first time writing victuuri aaaa!!

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thewildwaffle · 5 years

Text

Abduction - Chapter 17

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Wenona pointed out that the guards were still there, they had just fallen back in order to try to stay mostly out of sight. Mostly. It was still made perfectly clear that they were very much being guarded. Mike stared at the doorway where he knew they were lurking just around the corner. They'd been there a while. They'd been following them all day, or solar rotation, or, argh, whatever!

He felt exhausted. Physically and mentally.

The worst place had been the infirmary.

At first, it was very hospital-like and normal. It reminded Mike a lot of the medical wing he and Wenona had lived in while aboard the Gladius. They used equipment that was, more or less, the same as what Demfar and Gerben used to to scan, analyze and heal the remainders of their wounds. The cuts from Simmo's knife on his tanned arms had been scabbing and looked like they'd leave nasty scars. After a few passes of the machine, his arm was almost as good as new. There were still faint scars, but they were only noticeable to him because he knew where to look for them.

The medics were… friendly. It was like Demfar times two. But not necessarily in a good way. They wanted to know everything about humans. Or rather, they wanted to hear about humans from humans. They, like Demfar, had read up and done as much research as they could, but that was very different than having two live specimens in front of you. They questioned, poked, prodded relentlessly until Wenona finally got fed up. The medic ended up splayed out on all six limbs on the floor.

The guards had rushed in, clawed hands on blaster hilts. The medics shooed them away, assuring them that everything was fine. They remained curious from a more cautious distance after that.

That part of the infirmary, as fun as that had been, was fine. It was as they were leaving that they walked by a large room whose occupants made both him and Wenona stop in their tracks.

The room was similar to the one they'd just been in, but it was filled with gurneys and platforms filled with various alien shapes.

They weren't moving. At all.

Mike's heart started pounding as he realized he recognized a few of the shapes. There was a group of squifra near the middle of the room. They had Confederation uniforms on. One in particular stood out. It had camouflage patterns of browns and purple's on its skin. It looked so much like Demfar. It couldn't be Demfar, though, right?

Another alien, closer to them caught his eye, furry and cat-shaped. It's fur was the color of dark gray, like the remains of a fire that had gone out. It couldn't be… it couldn't be Thurrin, could it? Please no.

The guards ushered them away from the room, but not before they also saw a few Sefra. They looked so much like Jeb. There were also many, many species of aliens he didn't recognize, in various uniforms, colors, sashes. As Mike followed the guards from the room- the morgue, he realized now what was, he caught eyes with Wenona. They had solved the mystery of why they hadn't seen any bodies in the debris outside. He was sick and horrified by it. He'd seen a body before, at his great aunt's funeral, but this... this was radically different. These could be the remains of his friends, killed by enemies, and blasted into the cold vacuum of space.

At least they hadn't been left there.

How many from the Gladius were in that room? Or in another room like it?

Mike was so lost in thoughts, that he almost jumped when he felt Wenona’s hand on his shoulder. He looked back. Her eyes looked the same way he felt.

“Mike,” she whispered, “are… are you okay?”

No. No he wasn’t. She wasn’t either, but neither of them said so. Instead, Wenona reached out and pulled him into her arms. He hugged back. The two of them stood there, in a beautiful hallway outside a terrifying room on an alien ship, far from home or anything familiar.

There are different kinds of hugs one can give or receive. Brief hugs one gives to friends or family member when you greet them. Awkward side hugs one gives to a coworker, or an acquaintance from that activity where you helped them with something but you barely remember. There are hugs that one gives to a loved one when saying goodbye, or the kind after seeing them when they return from being away a long time. Etc. But there is one special kind of hug that few really know how to give. It’s the one where you’re held tightly in strong arms and you can almost feel that your cracks and broken pieces are being pushed back together.

Those are the best.

The thing about that kind of hug is that they take time to really get the full effect. That was time Mike and Wenona didn’t really have.

Unsure of what the heck was going on, the guards stood around watching the two humans hold each other. What were they doing? Should they break them apart? Was it possible to break them apart at this point? That appeared to be quite a hold they had on each other. The guards looked at the humans and around at each other. Maybe this was a normal human thing?

Sensing the growing unease of the guards, Wenona let go and they both turned to face forward down the hall. A few of the guards’ narrow faces tilted sideways. One was trying and failing to hide what looked like might be a grin.

Ooookay. Mike and Wenona glanced at each other in the corners of their eyes. “So,” Mike started slowly, “are we off then?”

The next location thankfully, was a short trek around the corridors and down one level.

If Mike had been asked to describe a stereotypical lab from the movies, he probably would have described the room they were now standing in pretty well. It was very well-lit and looked clean, if a little cluttered with data pads, strips of strange fabric, weird metal boxes, and scraps of what looked might have once been rubber bands. Really big rubber bands. There were multi-colored fluids bubbling in strange glass vials, vats, and straws of various sizes. There were coils and wires spread out in every direction running between machines he could only guess the purposes of.

The wall just to the right of the entrance they’d come in was almost completely covered with screens and displays. A large, tan, four-armed alien was bent over entering data, looking back and forth between its many large fingers typing at insanely fast speeds and a small wooden object sitting on the table next to them. It looked like - was that a ukulele? No, it had too many strings. Where did they get a tiny guitar?

The guard next to Mike stepped forward and made a quick series of clicking noises. The other alien didn’t look up, but grunted a low tone as if to acknowledge them. Without stopping from typing, it used a spare arm to lift up what looked like a half-helmet, half-headband device covered with movable lenses and visors on its head.

The guard that had stepped forward before sighed and looked a bit exasperated before making the fast clicking sound again, a little louder. “Drin, if you could spare a moment, we’ve brought the humans as requested by Commander Rozar.”

“Wait. What?” the scientist or whatever “Drin” was looked up sharply, the spectacled headgear nearly flew off their head. It sat precariously on top of his brow, dangling on one of the long curved horns protruding from the alien’s forehead. He stood like that, gaping at Mike and Wenona before finally righting his headgear and closing his gaping mouth.

“I thought someone was going to let me know when they were coming!” “Apologies, Drin. We thought you’d been informed. We’ve just come from the medical wing,” the guard bowed again as Drin stepped toward them, muttering under his breath about ruined welcome plans and first impressions.

The scientist stopped a few feet in front of them and frowned at the group. “I assume they’re in full health then?” The main guard nodded. “Good. You’re excused.”

“Sir?” The guards shuffled uneasily.

“You’re excused. Get out of here. I have work to do.”

“Sir, we were told to stay close by and guard the humans. They are dangerous. They’ve already proved to be quite a handful, we’ve been ordered to stay and make sure they-”

Drin straightened his back, showing off his impressively tall stance. “I’m sure I’ll be able to manage.I don’t give much of a gregunian’s left beak who ordered you to do what. This is my lab, and I give the orders here. Now get out. You can wait in the hall if you must.” Slowly, the guards filed back out the door, which shut promptly after the last one’s tail cleared the doorway. Drin turned back to Mike and Wenona and studied them a moment. They studied him back. He stood about eight feet tall and was covered in short, soft-looking tan fur. The curved horns protruding from his forehead were ridged and ended just behind where his long floppy ears started.

“If I’m going to be totally honest with the two of you, you are not at all what I was expecting.”

Mike felt his face scrunch up, but also couldn’t help but give a confused smile, “Uh, okay. Sorry, I guess?”

Now it was Drin’s turn to look confused, “Sorry? Sorry for what? This is amazing! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to get some actual humans in my lab?” He obviously meant it as a rhetorical question, because he immediately turned to grab a handful of instruments off a nearby table and turn back to them. One tool turned out to essentially be a fancy measuring tape.

Wenona, glared at Drin as he came closer to measure her, “The medics already took all our measurements. Can’t you just get all that from them?”

He ignored the look she was giving him and started measuring her height, length of her arms, circumference of her head, etc. “I suppose I could, but I’d prefer to make accurate catalogs. I don’t mean to offend the buffoons they hired in the medical wing, but they’re complete imbeciles.” He pulled a strand of Wenona’s hair straight up and measured it as well.

After a few more measurements, and after Wenona slapped him away when she’d finally had enough, it was Mike’s turn.

“So,” Mike started, holding up his arm or turning as needed, “you said we weren’t what you were expecting? What did you mean?”

“Hmm? Oh yes,” Drin finished and replaced the tool to the table which began uploading its measurements to the datapad next to it. “Your race’s reputation has spread remarkably fast, even through the blockade. I suppose that by the time we heard of you, pure information devolved into rumors and exaggerations. After hearing about many of the habitats earth offers, and some of the feats your kind has supposedly accomplished, I thought you would be shorter and stockier, maybe with more fur if you’d come from cold climates. Would you say that your builds are typical of humankind?”

Mike and Wenona looked at each other. Mike nodded, “Yeah, we’re both pretty average height-wise I guess. I’ve always been the tallest in my classes though, but I’m certainly no pro-basketball player or anything.”

Drin obviously had no idea what that meant, but he looked delighted to hear it anyway.

“I can see how the rumors started though. After your planet defeated the Kahsks, it’d be easy to embellish and exaggerate about a race capable of such a feat. The Kahsks made a mistake invading your planet. Well, it was a mistake for them, obviously, but for many of the rest of us, it was something akin to an opening door. New opportunities!” Drin paused to motion the two of them towards a large machine bolted to the side of another table. Wenona held back a bit nervously. Mike stepped forward as Drin had him hold his arms out straight a few inches from his sides. The machine began scanning Mike with a bright green light.

Drin watched the readouts on a screen on the other side of the scanner as he continued, “The Burnti Empire and the Kahsks have had a long history of… rivalry I guess could be one word for it. When we found out they’d been suffered such major losses to their fleet, we were of course intrigued.” The green light stopped and the machine beeped loudly. “Fascinating,” muttered Drin. He motioned Mike to step away and it was Wenona’s turn.

“Anyway,” Drin removed his headgear and set it down gently as he shook his head, “We tried learning as much as we could about the race that had taken them down. The blockade, as it was, made that difficult, but certainly not impossible. I have a lot of connections that I’ll admit are not all savory. Rozar has a lot of connections with bounty hunters. Between the two of us, we commissioned deliveries of as much as we could get from Earth to be smuggled across the blockade. Eventually we were able to get live specimens, which have been fascinating to study, but until now, we’ve never been able to successfully get a human.” The scan for Wenona stopped and the machine beeped loudly again. Drin smiled and looked up at them, “And now, we have two.”

“Wait a minute,” Wenona snapped. Her shoulders tensed and a horrified glare began spreading across her face. “Do you mean to tell me you were the ones who hired the montauk that kidnapped us?!”

Oh.

“We might have. I mean, we’re not the only ones in the galaxy hiring them, and not every shipment we hired always came through. Sometimes they’d find another buyer who paid more or was simply more convenient to deliver to. The blockade tended to dissuade a lot of… uh, transactions with us after all. We’re lucky we were able to get what we did. All things considered, we’ve managed to learn so much, but now that you’re both here-”

He didn’t get to finish. Wenona had grabbed a small handheld device off the table and threw it as hard as she could at him. It broke into pieces as it hit him square in the chest.

“YOU!? You did this!? What are we then? Just cargo you finally had delivered?” Another projectile hurtled toward Drin, this one aimed at his head. He was just barely able to duck in time. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put us through? My family? They probably think I’m dead! This is your fault!”

Drin, not wanting any more equipment thrown across the room, lunged at Wenona. Before he could grab her, she dove between his outreached arms and rolled into a pile of stacked metallic boxes. Mike rushed to her side to help her up, pushing a large drum behind him to put an obstacle between them and the alien scientist. The drum was lighter than Mike expected and it continued to move, toppling over and knocking down anything and everything not securely fastened down.

Mike had to admit, it was quite an impressive mess.

Drin turned around and watched in horror as the boxes and crashing drum created a domino effect. The once well-organized lab was suddenly thrown into chaos. Bumps, thuds, and the sound of shattering glass was everywhere. Eventually it climaxed with a loud, hollow clattering of falling metal and a sudden yelp of a large animal.

Both Mike and Wenona froze. Slowly, they turned to the back of the lab where the sound had come from. “What the heck was that?” Mike’s whisper felt strained. Somewhere behind one of the counters, they could hear shuffling of something moving among the fallen lab items. What sounded like claws clicked on the hard surface.

Something furry and strong grabbed their wrists and pulled them back.

“Got you!” Drin gave a low chuckle. “I suppose they did warn me you might be a handful, but I knew I’d be-” he stopped as he noticed the humans already had figured out. His specimen was free.

Slowly, Drin pulled Mike and Wenona behind him as he carefully paced towards the drawer where he kept a spare blaster. Mike could hear the creature padding closer to their side of the lab. He could hear it panting and sniffing. Then it growled. It was a low, dangerous growl that seemed to shake everything in the room. Or maybe that was just his imagination playing it up, because MAN! Everything about that growl told his instincts to turn tail and run.

The growl stopped and the sniffing started again. Drin had nearly reached the drawer when the creature came around the corner.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” muttered Wenona.

It was a dog.

An honest to goodness, from earth, massive dog.

Its muzzle was nearly black, but the rest of its shaggy fur was a mixture of black and golden brown. Its eyes looked droopy and red. Its legs were long and thick, its shoulders looked like they probably would come to Mike’s waist.

No one moved for what seemed an eternity. The trance was broken by the sound of a drawer as Drin slowly began pulling it open. The dog growled again and the drawer stopped. Sniffing, the dog turned its massive head towards where Mike and Wenona were standing.

“Good doggy,” Mike drawled in the most calming voice he could, “nice doggy.”

Something seemed to click in the dogs eyes and suddenly it came bounding towards them. There was nowhere they could go, they had already backed themselves up as far as they could. It was going to eat them! Before they could think of another idea of what to do, the thing was on them.

Literally, on them.

Its paws reached up onto Mike's showers and it barked, loud booming barks before it slathered his face with the biggest, wettest licks any dog had probably ever given in the history of forever.

Mike was completely knocked off his feet and the dog gave the same happy greeting to Wenona. Soon, all three of them were sitting on the floor laughing, or barking in the dog's case, as Drin looked on from across the lab, still frozen in place. His expression was priceless.

“Really need to get a camera somehow,” Mike chuckled to himself.

He scratched around the dog’s ears and down around his neck. That earned him a few extra happy licks to the face, which he tried and failed to push away. His fingers caught on something around the dog's neck. A collar maybe? As soon as the dog leaned over to share the slobbery love with Wenona, Mike was able to pull the collar around so he could read the tag.

“Carson.” The dog turned back to him, as if recognizing the name. “Welcome to our pack Carson.”

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

#abduction #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #aliens #space #mike #wenona #jebby #humans and aliens #doggo joins the pack #writblr #original writing

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elichatterarchive · 5 years

Text

Dave stumbles into the lab one night, crimson eyes half closed against the lamplight Dirk works by. ‘Saw the door was open. What’re you doing?’

Dirk doesn’t look up, face inches from the wiring that he’s tinkering with. ‘Working.’

‘Is that what we’re calling it? Looks to me like you’re obsessing,’ Dave tells him.

Dirk is almost knocked out by the realisation that he is, in fact, obsessing, and that his younger-older brother is most definitely about to save his ass.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes, quiet in the murky dark. When Dave flicks the lightswitch, Dirk has to glare behind his shades, teeth clenched for the duration of his adjustment. ‘What time is it?’ He grimaces a little harder. ‘What a dumb fucking question. We’re -’

‘-On a meteor, drifting through space,’ Dave finishes, pulling up a chair and sweeping a few pieces of metal out of the way, like they mean nothing (like Dirk hasn’t spent the better part of two days trying to make them mean something). ‘It’s half past go-the-fuck-to-sleep o’clock, dude. It’s a quarter to ‘you look like shit’. It’s-’

‘Bro,’ Dirk says, in a tone that isn’t quite as stoic as usual, and Dave clams up. They have a sweet little groove going at the moment -- ever since they talked things out, they’ve been twisting in tandem, a machine so fuckin’ sick it doesn’t even need oiling. They’re the rhyming words of the sickest bar this side of the apocalypse. They’re either end of a metronome. They’re Striders, for fuck’s sake.

Dave leans his head on the crook of his elbow, flat on the workbench. He (poorly) stifles a yawn. ‘Seriously, man. How long have you been holed up in here? You’re, like, drenched in shit. It’s nasty as hell. Not in a good way, either, like some mechanic working tirelessly to save his spaceship from the endless caverns of a dead planet. Like, you just look bad.’

Dirk takes a look at his grease-stained hands, curses the callouses on them to the old husk of Dave’s Earth and back. ‘A day or two.’

Dave whistles, low. ‘Shit.’

‘It’s not that bad. When I made him the stupid scrumbot, I was up working for almost a week. It was-’

The expression on Dave’s face cuts him off long before his own brain has the sense to. Shit, indeed. He says as much.

‘You’re making Jake something?’

He hadn’t specified, but Dirk supposes he doesn’t need to. The bent and singed scraps in front of him look very ugly in the light. ‘I’m trying to, I think. I keep running out of steam, which is very fucking stupid. You’d think I would know what to do when faced with a room full of robotic parts and pretty much all the fucking time in the world, but, you know something, Dave? I’m stumped. Completely and utterly goddamn stumped. Stumped out of my fucking brains.’

There’s a quiet that feels very heavy. Dirk doesn’t look up, and Dave doesn’t move for a long while.

‘You want me to appearify you a coffee?’ Dave asks eventually, and he blinks his huge red eyes like he’s actually bothered about the answer, and Dirk feels very much like he can’t breathe on this meteor anymore, like space is compressing him into a tiny little ball, like all his worst traits are surviving the squash. Fuck. Fuck, this sucks. He’s suddenly very thankful for his shades.

‘Yeah. Yeah, thanks.’

Dave gets up, pats Dirk’s shoulder a little awkwardly (like he’s worried that Dirk’s going to bite him, or something) (but that’s fair, honestly), and vanishes to acquire two cups of extremely shitty coffee. Good. Every appendage Dirk happens to be able to feel at the moment is shaking at a different frequency. He’s a radio turned to a station of static, buzzing away in his own brain. Almost against his own will, Dirk rests his head against the worktable and closes his eyes.

When he dozes, he dreams that, somewhere on Derse, a fire is engulfing a forest. He panics until he realises that he is holding a match.

The next morning, Dirk’s coffee is undrinkable. Literally. The film atop the drink has solidified into a kind of gelatinous mass, and Dirk has to kind of fight it out of the cup in order to rinse it out. It’s annoying, and not how he wants to be spending his time, but it makes for an easy life, and he’s found himself craving a little bit of simplicity recently.

Dave doesn’t mention the previous night, even though it must have been real fucking annoying to force that moronic machine to make two cups of sludge and carry them back before they grew skin only to find the second party snoring like a particularly old walrus, anime glasses askew. Dirk feels a surge of something strong for his fellow Strider, though he doesn’t label it just yet. Neither of them are ready for something like that.

Roxy greets him with a smile he feels somewhere in his hippocampus, sharp and hot. He nods back, has to keep himself from scanning the rest of the faces in the room. Instead, he sits by his friend, steals the first edible thing he sees on her plate and stuffs it into his mouth before she can snatch it back from him. With Roxy, things are certainly more painless than they could be (that is to say, he’s still trying to teach himself to look Jane in the eye. That is to say, Jake is not one of the faces in the room). He can sit shoulder to shoulder with her and across from Rose and know that he’s going to do better today.

From the doorway, Dave, who’s ushering the Mayor forward by their tiny shoulders, offers an expression that edges on unreadable. Dirk reads it, considers, gives it a five star review on Troll Goodreads and places an order for the sequel. Instead of a totally kickass and not-money-grabbing version two of a brotherly half-smile, the Mayor skitters over and delivers a dusty bottle of orange soda.

As Dirk twists off the cap, Jake and John join the group. His hands are too occupied to go white knuckled. He’s too busy thinking about building public transport for Can Town to choke on his first mouthful of Fanta. That’s progress.

It’s when he’s ready to go that the paranoia kicks in -- Jake has robbed him of his indifferent exit. If he gets up and leaves now, it’ll seem like he can’t wait to get out of any room Jake has entered. If he hangs around, it’ll look like he’s desperate to linger, like some sort of English-specific creep that gets his rocks off by lurking in the shadows and watching Jake do things. Dirk’s throat starts to close up, the way it does when he doesn’t know what to do.

He has to stress that this isn’t about Jake, or the fact that he still loves Jake (and probably always will), it’s about the feeling he’s getting in his head -- his entire head, behind his nose and between his teeth and curling through his eye sockets -- the feeling of being pulled apart, losing his grip on something. It’s the feeling he gets when he stops paying attention to his dreamself, but tenfold, twentyfold, fuckzillionfold; he’s somewhere between two places, stuck fast, anchorless.

He is, in fact, totally fucked.

Okay, that’s an exaggeration. He’s just unsure. It’s a new feeling, and one he’s not fond of at that.

He stands up. No eyes follow him. His shoulders don’t relax.

Dirk finds himself en route to the lab.

‘You still in here, Bro?’

‘Yeah. Hey.’

Dave pushes open the lab door with a little more uncertainty this time. Dirk doesn’t blame him. It must look to Dave like he’d regressed straight back to making mindfuck-bots after the heart-to-heart that never was.

‘What’re you doing?’

‘Finishing something up. Check this out.’

Dave sits obediently (that rubs Dirk the wrong way, but there’s time for that later), blank expression the perfect canvas on which Dirk gets to throw his latest creation.

‘It only took me a few hours,’ he hears himself saying, as if he needs to justify doing something he enjoys, ‘so it’s not perfect, but I think it’s pretty cool.’

‘Just show me,’ Dave says, and Dirk nods. Right. Showing.

The small tin train blows a harmless puff of warm air before it starts to worm its way around the track, weaving, silver and snakelike, along the bends Dirk had carved from the shards and scraps of his last effort.

Dave can’t help but grin as he watches the carriages roll by. ‘Dude, sick.’

Dirk shakes his head. ‘Look in the windows, bro.’

‘You’re kidding me,’ Dave breathes, pushing himself out of his seat and kneeling hurriedly by the still-moving train. ‘Shit. Awesome. You even got John’s vacant fuckin’ expression. Wow, who’s that kid sat next to John? He’s hot as Hell, dude. Smokin’ as all the irons after a blacksmith pulls them from the fire with his fuckin’ catcher’s mitt bare ass hands. Hey, who’s that? Must be the cool kid’s ecto-brother. They got similar badass shades on. They’re taking this train to Biznasty City, population three, Mayor one.’

‘No, dude, they’re coming from Biznasty City. This is the train to-’

Dave’s mouth drops open, a soft little ‘o’ of surprise. ‘Can Town,’ he breathes, and Dirk nods.

‘You know it.’

‘This is awesome, Bro.’ Dave hovers for a second, and Dirk knows (almost instinctively) that this is where good brothers would hug, but they both seem to baulk at the last second, like wary horses sensing a storm. It’s alright. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

Dave grins, effectively waving away the awkward air. ‘You should show everyone else. We’ll move it to Can Town to show the Mayor. The little dude’s gonna straignt up fucking flip.’

Dirk nods, lets his brain bounce against his skill a few times. He feels like a car ornament. ‘Yeah. That was the plan.’

‘You should show him.’

‘I know. I will.’

‘In the morning?’

‘Yeah. I think so.’

Dave nods. Now they look like matching car ornaments. ‘Cool. You should get some sleep, Bro. You still kinda look like shit.’

They smile, quiet, tentative.

‘See ya,’ Dirk says to the back of Dave’s head, and stops the train with a flick of a switch. Once the wheels stop turning, he takes up Dave’s position, squints through the tiny windows at the figurines sat inside the carriage. It’s the best replica he could manage, pieced together from fragments of pictures and logical guesses. The mechanics of the room itself don’t matter all that much.

What matters is the miniature figurine of himself, sat serenely next to the figurine of a grinning Jake E.nglish.

For some reason, Jake’s smile had been easy to recall, but almost impossible to recreate.

The figurines don’t have history. The figurines aren’t even looking at each other. The figurines are vague, yet unconfusing, and, even if they are confusing, Dirk is going to be right here to clarify. Dirk is going to be the one to spread his hands in surrender, ask truce? and act like he could handle a refusal.

His finger lingers on the light switch.

It’s not nearly enough, but it’s a start.

Dirk turns off the light, takes himself to bed, and wakes up on Derse to the sound of rain.

#i legally deserve attention for this but the hs fandom is so scary #dirk tag.#dave tag.#long post /

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peterparkers7evilexes · 5 years

Text

i have So Much Shit backlogged but i can’t stop thinking about In the Flesh winterspider

Peter comes to in a white room surrounded by labcoats. They tell him he died months ago and he, along with thousands others who’d died within the same seven month span, were reanimated as rabid undead and forcibly rounded up and treated for PDS (partially deceased syndrome)

May is beside herself with renewed grief and joy, she won’t let Peter out of his sight and is constantly touching him and hugging him. Peter doesn’t have the heart to tell her that her touch feels too hot on his skin, searing like a brand

His old friends don’t talk to him anymore - it’s just too weird, Harry says apologetically - and Peter doesn’t miss the way Harry shies away from him, is afraid to stand too close to him where before, he was all hugs and overbearing contact

May moves them to her old hometown so they can restart their lives - the labcoats gave him contacts and makeup so he can hide his undead appearance and May has to give him shots once a day to treat his “PDS”

He reluctantly enrolls in the local college at May’s request to try and return to some normalcy - everyone’s still whispering about the ‘rotters’ and Peter hears stories about Old Maggie, a piano teacher in the town who’d died and resurrected rabid - they all laugh about how a group of men hunted her down and bashed the old rotter’s head in, still tottering about in her sunday best, foaming at the mouth and dead-eyed

Peter’s terrified to make new friends, unsure of what they’ll do if they realize he’s a rotter himself under all his makeup and his contact lenses - his skin’s cold to the touch and he can’t eat, and he’s scared they’ll discover him sooner or later, some days he wishes he hadn’t been resurrected at all

One day as he’s in class, he hears one girl say that her mom works at the college registry and there’s a new rotter who’s enrolled - but they’re not talking about Peter at all.

There’s a new guy in his chem lab, he sits in the back and looks straight ahead the whole time, long dark hair hiding his face. Halfway through class some asshole spills formaldehyde all down the new guy’s front and he loudly laughs, “don’t worry guys, it’s just a corpse, this is just like water to it, isn’t it?” The new guy doesn’t say anything, just wipes off the chemicals and sits through the rest of class, his jaw clenched

Through eavesdropping, Peter learns the new guy used to live in town - he enlisted and died overseas in the war. They shipped his body back in pieces and he resurrected not two hours after his viewing - rumor has it that the only reason his head wasn’t bashed in was because he was still trapped in the funeral home’s back storage room

Peter bolts from class and he has to sit outside with his head between his knees. As class lets out not long after, people walk by laughing and someone sympathetically says, “they’re nasty, aren’t they? it’s okay, i lost my lunch the first time i saw one too,” and he just nods numbly, realizing too late they’re talking about rotters

Still feeling sick, he gets up and starts to walk home along the road. The new guy pulls up on a motorcycle and says “you shouldn’t walk alone. if someone finds out you’re dead, they’ll blow your head off like roadkill.” Peter just stares numbly at the new guy. “How’d you know?” “You didn’t blend the foundation here.” The new guy touches peter’s neck and he’s startled to feel that - unlike May’s touch - he feels just a pleasant warmth from the contact. “See? your face is a totally different shade from your neck. You’re lucky no one else spotted that.”

“Thanks,” Peter’s a little dumbfounded but a lot intrigued and, against his better judgment he accepts a ride from the new guy (“Bucky,” he introduces himself, “IED, cut clean through my spine. you?” “Peter,” he responds, “um. bad case of pneumonia”) And as they speed down the deserted roads, the motorcycle revving angrily on the asphalt and his body pressed tight against someone else, for the first time since he’s been resurrected, Peter feels alive.

#winterspider #don't walk alone #that's the name of this ITF au i decided #DAMMIT #why do i come up with titles i like for shit that i don't fuckin have time to write #in the flesh au #tw: death #tw: descriptions of violence #cw: zombies #my shit #Fic

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mosylufanfic · 5 years

Text

Me and My Shadow

I was digging around in my files, as I am wont to do, and I found this story from last season, about 95% finished. Remember when they basically had no scenes at all together? And we were all starving for any little bit of Killervibe we could get? This is something of what I wanted to see after S4′s mid-season finale.

Just as a refresher, this takes place toward the end of the episode where Amunet Black kidnapped Caitlin, locked dampening cuffs on her. Before that happened, however, Caitlin discovered that Cisco, Harry, and Ralph all had private jokes and funny stories about hanging out with Killer Frost.

This story isn’t overtly romantic but it is about Cisco and Caitlin’s relationship at that point in the show. Title from the 1927 song, sung by oh so many people.

Me and My Shadow

Cisco peered at the power dampener Amunet Black had fastened around Caitlin's wrist. "Who designed this, the Incredible Hulk?" He tapped it. "Could it get any bigger and clunkier? Ugh. I'm so offended."

"Me, too, considering it held me prisoner," Caitlin said dryly. She waved her wrist a little, inviting him to look at the catch. It was a heavy-duty metal latch with wires woven over it in some way he couldn't quite follow. "Can we remove this, please?"

"Oh, yeah." He opened the toolkit he'd brought upstairs from his lab and pulled out some wire snips and an electric saw.

"Careful!" she said.

He paused. "It's not gonna blow up if I don't snip the right wire, is it?"

She angled her wrist. "No, but it's got spikes on the inside. It's part of the function somehow."

Now he could see them, thin metal needles piercing her flesh. A few dots of blood smeared her skin.

"Shit!" He yanked his hand away. All his poking and prodding must have been digging them in even further. Why the hell hadn't she said anything before this?

Probably the same reason she'd waited to ask him to remove it until after Dominic Lanse had been taken to a hospital and thoroughly checked over. Caitlin putting herself last again.

Another thought occurred. "Oh, fuck, it's not stabbing your veins or anything, is it?"

She touched the inside of her wrist. "No, it's just the top and sides."

"Well, that was nice of her," he said sarcastically, and got to work on the catch. The design might offend every aesthetic bone in his body, but it was doing the job very well. He could feel his own powers going a little fuzzy and wobbly, this close to it. And it also seemed to have solved the power issue he'd struggled with so much. He was going to have a look at this when he got it off her wrist.

She was quiet while he worked, and while he normally would have chattered and joked, all his lightness seemed like it was trapped underneath a boulder in the pit of his stomach.

Yelling at Ralph had helped some, but he still felt like a turd. Sure, Caitlin, the nasty, mean alter ego that you never wanted is our favorite new buddy. Yeah, we have a great time with her! We have inside jokes and everything!

He knew she knew he hadn't meant it like that. But just because he hadn't meant it didn't mean it hadn't hurt her. He remembered the look in her eyes.

And Harry had gone to apologize first. Harry! When Harry I-Can-Only-Relate-to-Other-Versions-of-Myself Wells was doing better at friending than you, that was kind of a bad sign.

He'd come for her. He'd rescued her from Amunet Black. She had to know he valued her more than Killer Frost. Right?

Yeah, he'd come for her, but so had fucking Ralph.

He glanced up, wondering how to start saying he was sorry, and found her staring off into space, looking thoughtful.

"Hey," he said, and her eyes came back around. They looked like root beer in this light, the way he liked them best. He smiled at her. "What's churning your butter, cup?"

"Just thinking how nice it was to handle something on my own for once, instead of having to depend on my mean roommate."

His stomach dropped. "Caitlin - "

She looked at her wrist. "Maybe you should leave this on."

"Leave on the spiky hurty ugly accessory? That's a hard no," he said, and snipped one last wire. "Lay your hand down and keep vewwy vewwy still," he added in his best Elmer Fudd imitation.

She smiled absently and flattened her palm to her lab table. He turned on the circular saw and started cutting through the lock. It was tough stuff, and he had to stop a couple of times to switch out the blade. Finally, the bracelet cracked in two, and he switched off the saw before it brushed her skin.

She pulled the cuff open, wincing as the spikes tugged out of her flesh, and let it clatter to the table. Now she wore a cuff of tiny pinpricks, welling with blood. It wasn't a good look, in Cisco's opinion.

"Mmm," she said, grimacing at the injuries. "I'd better get this cleaned up and bandaged." She rummaged in some drawers.

"Frost up," he suggested before he thought, and felt his stomach drop again. God. He'd stepped in it again. "Just - just to get rid of that," he added quickly. "Let her hypermetabolism take care of it."

"It's fine," she said, not looking at him as she wiped each pinprick down with a sterile wipe. "It's good. You should get along with people who are fighting alongside you." She tossed a used one, pink with blood, into the biohazard bin and pulled another one from the dispenser.

"Look, don't pretend we didn't hurt your feelings."

"They're my feelings," she said. "I'll handle them."

"Yeah, that's a skill you excel at."

She gave him a withering look. "I had a bad evening. I got over it."

"Okay, then how about letting me apologize?"

"You have nothing to apologize for. You can have friends other than me. You do have friends other than me. It's selfish and self-centered to be jealous of that."

She recited it as if it was something she'd said to herself over and over again.

"It's human to feel left out," he said. "And I was part of making you feel left out, and I'm really sorry for that."

"Yes, and I handled it." She bowed her head over her wrist, dabbing antiseptic cream on the marks. "Thanks for getting that cuff off me. You should probably clean it." She handed him a container of Q-tips and a bottle of ethanol.

He took them back to the table where the cuff still sat, dark and powerless now. He started cleaning the spikes, watching the white cotton soak up pink blood. He found he was gritting his teeth.

Why wouldn't she smile and accept his apology?

Why wouldn't she just let him feel better about seeming to prefer her darker side?

Why couldn't he just go back to thinking that she'd made peace with Killer Frost, now that she wasn't one of the bad guys, and didn't have any feelings about her divided self whatsoever?

Just like he was perfectly fine with the thought of Reverb, or any of his other evil doppelgangers that infested the multiverse. Oh yeah. No misgivings there at all.

He let out his breath and tossed the Q-tip down.

"You know," he said, "eight months ago, you never would have convinced me that there could be anything I liked about Killer Frost, but I do."

Caitlin looked up, but didn't say anything. She just watched him, silent, her face flat and expressionless.

"She's tough. A survivor. A fighter. She sees what needs to be done and gets it done. She's smart and she thinks on her feet. Every time she throws down, I swear she has three or four nifty new tricks that never even crossed my mind."

"Okay," she said. "I get it. You don't have to keep singing her praises."

He went to her and took her tight shoulders in his. "And you know what? Everything I like best about her is something she gets from you."

Her eyes met his. They were darker now.

"Tough. Smart. Creative. Gets the job done. Sound familiar?"

"A fighter, though?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not a fighter. I run and I hide," she said bitterly. "Just like Harry told me to do at Jitters. I didn't even try and bring her out until I was cornered, and that didn't work."

"Have you ever once run and hid when someone needed medical help?"

"That's different."

"I dunno if it is. That's your wheelhouse. Kicking ass is Frost's. Use the right tool for the right purpose. Killer Frost isn't always the right choice for what needs to get done."

She was quiet for a long moment. "Amunet Black said something like that."

He recoiled. "She did?"

Caitlin shrugged. "She wanted me to get the job done. She probably could have threatened me some more, but she took the logic route and pointed out why she needed me, not Frost. It worked. I got the job done."

Okay. He officially sucked as a friend. Amunet Black had figured out what Caitlin needed to hear before he had. That she, Caitlin, was valuable and valued, that her skills weren't lesser, that she was strong and effective in her own way.

He tried to make his voice light. "Much as I hate to agree with someone with that dated of a hairstyle, she had a point. We couldn't do what we do without you."

Her eyes searched his and then she sighed. Not a resigned sigh or an unhappy one. There was relief in it. As if she was letting out a breath she'd held for too long.

Then she hugged him, hard and quick. "Thank you," she said.

"Anytime," he said. "Really, I mean it. Anytime you're feeling conflicted over your morally ambiguous doppelganger, talk to me."

"It's not her state of evil or good," she said thoughtfully. "I mean, obviously I would rather she's fighting against the bad guys rather than alongside them. But it's - " She rubbed her wrists again. "It was easier when she was the bad one and I was the good one, and I had good things - like friends - and she didn't."

"I don't think either of you are that simple," he said. "I don't think anything's that simple."

She toyed with the q-tips. "The thing is," she said, brows drawn together, "I've spent my entire life trying not to show it when I'm scared, or angry, or upset, or even just sad."

"That's not news," he pointed out. He still remembered nearly a year of her flat, expressionless face after the explosion.

"Because nobody has time for that," she went on. "You know? Nobody wants to put up with that. People like a cheerful, helpful, smart little girl. Nobody likes a crybaby who can't do anything."

One day, Cisco reflected, he really was going to go find Mama Snow and punch her in the mouth. He didn't like hitting women, even the ones that hit him first, but boy, could he make an exception.

"So I tried to be cheerful and helpful and smart, and if I couldn't manage to fake any of those, I could at least push down all the bad feelings and show nothing. Until last year. I stopped being able to push things down. And in a way, it made sense that when I lost control of all my rage and my fear, that I lost you. All of you. Because that's what you get. Nobody wants you if you're like that."

He opened his mouth.

She aimed him a look. "And yes, Cisco, I know that I lost all of you because she joined forces with Savitar and was instrumental in H.R.s death and Iris's attempted murder. I understand that. I'm not stupid."

He had been going to say, she'd lost them because she'd left, but that was a fair point, too. "As long as you get there's a difference."

"I do," she said. "On a logical level. But when I realized that she was coming back, I tried to run, because I couldn't bear to lose you all again like that."

He refrained from pointing out that she would have lost them anyway.

"And then I didn't," she said. "And then I realized that you actually liked her. You have jokes together, you like fighting alongside her, Ralph thinks she's sexy. "

"Ralph tried to hit on a lamppost the other day," he pointed out. "Just saying."

"And in that case, what's the point? What's my reward for fighting down the worst parts of myself, if it isn't to keep my friends?"

"Look," he said, taking her hands. "You're going to have to figure that out yourself. I think the past year has shown that no outside influence is going to work to get a handle on Killer Frost. Power-dampening cuffs, solar necklaces, whatever it was that Black gave you - none of that, on its own, is ever going to be a permanent solution. You've got to get a handle on her yourself, for yourself, because it's the best thing for you. But while you're doing that, here's something I think you should keep in mind."

"What?"

"We like you," he said. "We like you when you're being smart and cheerful and helpful, yeah. But we also like you when you're snarly and mean, or sad, or upset. I like you. You don’t have be perfect to be our friend. You just have to be you." He waved at her up and down, trying to encompass her entirety. "Everything you are."

She swallowed hard. "Thank you."

"Anytime," he said, starting to go back to the dampener cuff. He paused. "By the way, your mom is wrong."

She looked up. "My mom?"

"Yeah. When she told you all that stuff about how nobody likes little girls who aren't sweet and nice all the time."

"Oh, Cisco, My mom didn't tell me that."

He blinked. "Who did, then?"

She shook her head, smiling at him a little. "Nobody had to tell me. All little girls know that."

"Well, they're wrong," he said.

She tilted her head. The smile got sharper; colder. "Are they?"

FINIS

#Cisco Ramon #Caitlin Snow #killervibe #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #Caitlin has a lot of feelings about KF #I do too #the flash

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kaleldobrev · 6 years

Text

Angels are watching over you

Pairing: Reader x Cas

Summary: Imagine waking up from a particularly bad nightmare and Cas comforting you

Reader Gender: Either

Word Count: 1,421

Warnings: Mentions of violence

Authors Note: If you enjoyed this, please like and/or reblog. xoxo, KD

Y/N = your name

Italics is your dream

You slowly opened your eyes, but weren’t sure if you really did at first because of how pitch black it was in the place you were in. All you could remember was that you were hunting a pretty nasty demon with Sam and Dean, and the next thing you knew, you felt like a boulder hit you in the back of the head.

There was a slight pressure on both your wrists and ankles; you tried to wriggle your arms and legs but the restraints that were holding you holding you in place weren’t budging in the slightest, they actually felt like they were getting tighter. “Great.” You mumbled to yourself, sighing as you looked up at what you assumed was a ceiling above you.

What felt like years, stadium type bright lights came on from the ceiling that slightly blinded you because of how bright they were. As quick as you could, you shut your eyes and turned your head. “Son of a bitch.” You said, louder than you wanted.

You heard some laughter that seemed to be coming from right in front of you. In that moment, you heard foot steps, and the sound of latex gloves snapping on someone’s hand. In a matter of seconds, you felt someone move your chin up. “Open your eyes,” said a very low and deep manly voice. You didn’t open your eyes like the man said, and you could hear him sigh. “Open your eyes now, or I’ll open them myself.” He said, more demanding and less patient this time. You did as the man said this time, and slowly opened them.

The man that was standing in front of you with his hand under your chin looked at you with a smirk; the kind that serial killers would wear to draw in their victims. “See? That wasn’t so hard was it dear?” He chuckled and you snapped your face away from his hand, which only made him chuckle more. The tall man, who was possibly the same height as Sam or possible taller, walked over to the metal table that was next to you that was covered with a white cotton sheet. Without either of you breaking eye contact from the other, he removed the sheet and revealed some of the items. On the metal desk were several different medical tools and non-medical tools that were in pristine condition. Either he has never used them before or he has a very religious cleaning ritual.

“You know,” The man started to speak, picking up a scalpel and examining it. He flicked the blade with his fingers, testing the sharpness of the object. “I didn’t like what you and your friends did to my experiments.” The man was very calm when he spoke. Speaking in a way a parent speaks to their child when they have caught their child doing something wrong and they are insanely disappointed.

“You were turning people into demons!” You shouted. In a split second, the scalpel was on your throat. You could feel the sharpness of the blade against your skin, but you didn’t flitch. The mans eyes turned pure black, his icy stare piercing into your skin like daggers.

“I WAS TRYING TO HELP THEM!” He yelled, no longer the calm and disappointed voice he previously had. He removed the scalpel from your neck and stepped back away from you. He placed the scalpel back on the metal table and straightened out his white lab coat. The tall man took a deep breath, his eyes flashing back to his vessel’s ocean blue ones.

“How is turning people into demons saving them?” You asked.

“You see, the people I was turning into demons were dying. A few of them had Cancer, and another few were dying from unknown causes. In my research I found that if you turn a person into a demon, they can no longer die from that disease.” He was calm again, and while he was explaining to you what he was doing, a part of you actually felt bad.

“But…” You wanted to say something, but you couldn’t find the words to try and hurt him. A part of you knew that he was trying to do something good, but his actions weren’t really working. He tried to turn people into demons, but the way he was going about it was just killing people faster than their disease could.

He walked over to you with the scalpel again, and placed the scalpel close to your neck, like the way he did before when you angered him. “Your friends will never find you, you know.” He said, smirking ever so calmly. He nicked your neck with the blade and drew a little bit of blood.

“Ouch.” You said, at the sudden pain that he just caused you. But in a split second, that pain was gone.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be the end of our fun. We have all the time in the world.” He said, walking back to the metal table, grabbing another medical instrument.

Your vision started to go blurry, and all you could see was just random patches of your blood. The man didn’t cut you deep, but he cut you in a bunch of random little places that made you want to throw up. There were cuts on your feet and hands, your stomach and chest, and even on your face. There was dried blood above and below your eyes and thankfully none got into them. “P…Please.” You said, barely audible.

“You can’t handle this? Really? Y/N the badass hunter can’t handle this kind of pain? I’ve barely done anything.” He whispered in your ear and started to play with the top of your hair, the same way Sam or Dean would play with it if they were messing around with you. You felt a small tear roll down your cheek.

“They’re not coming.” You mumbled again, more tears started to stream down your face.

Your eyes shot open and you could feel wetness on your cheeks. You rubbed the tears from your eyes and looked at your doorway, noticing a figure standing there. “Cas?” You questioned, your voice sounding like a mixture between sleepy and like you just got done crying.

Cas walked towards you and sat down at the end of your bed. “I could…Hear you crying from the other room.” The angel looked at you with genuine concern on his face. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m…I’m fine. I just…I had a nightmare.” You tucked your knees against your chest, looking at him, trying your best to force a smile on your face but it wasn’t working.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asked, placing his hand on the top of your knee. This caused you to have a genuine soft smile on your face.

“Can you…Can you stay with me?” You asked, placing your hand on top of his. “It wasn’t a horrible nightmare but…It kind of freaked me out.” Cas nodded, and you got back unto the covers. You moved over to the left side of the bed so that there was enough room for Cas to lay down next to you. Once he did so, he wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you in close so your face was buried in his chest. You shut your eyes for a moment, feeling at peace.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cas said, looking down at you. You looked up at him slightly, ready to speak. “Your nightmare that is?” He asked, as if to clarify.

“I…I got tortured by a demon and no one came to rescue me.” You looked away from him, kind of feeling slightly embarrassed in that moment for some reason. “It’s kind of stupid I know.” You decided to add, but quickly regretted saying that part.

“It’s not stupid Y/N.” He calmly said, pulling your chin up so you could look at him. “We’ll always come and rescue you, no matter what.” He kissed your forehead, making you feel more at peace. Cas was really good at that; he always managed to make you feel calm about a lot of things.

“Thank you.” Was all you said, before you shut your eyes again.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.” He whispered. When he said that, you felt your heart race a little bit, and felt a smile form on your lips. It was nice to know that you had an angel watching over you.

#castiel imagine #castiel imagines #spn imagine #spn imagines #supernatural imagines #supernatural imagine #castiel x reader #cas x reader #reader x cas #reader x castiel

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aenariasbookshelf · 7 years

Text

The tasertorch WIP, as promised

Be warned, it’s a WIP, and it kinda cuts off before the getting gets good. Somewhat. There’s a little cake at the beginning of the story though...

There’s something about teeth. Any good alpha knows this, knows how they can be used to warn, to protect, to seduce. Darcy Lewis knows this all too well, having received the talks about facial expressions and body language for every classification back in alpha health classes in high school. However, learning something in theory and actually seeing it put into practice are two entirely different things.

So when the omega she’s helping out (call it what it is, Darcy, she tells herself, you’re fucking him through his heat) runs his open mouth up and down her neck as she rides him into the mattress, smooth white teeth pressing into the delicate skin there, it sends a nearly electric jolt of heat through her body. She shudders, clenching her inner muscles around his cock as she raises herself up then slams herself back down on him.

Her omega groans at that, large hands falling on her hips and taking the pressure off of her joints as he bucks up into her. His eyes are hazy, full of that punch-drunk heat lust that she knows all too well by now.

He’s not your omega, Darcy thinks. He’s got a lot of other people who want a piece of him. You’re just helping out a friend.

Then he shifts in the bed, lurching upright so he can bring his mouth to her neck once more, teeth glancing and grazing against the tendons there. She digs her nails into his back, leaving vibrant red scores against heated skin. “Johnny,” she whimpers.

“Yeah?” he drawls, sounds a lot more relaxed than he feels beneath and inside her right then. That mouth of his, always warm but seemingly warmer than normal right now, practically burns a brand against her neck, in that tender area right near the ear and just above the scent glands that never fails to turn her on even more.

Not like it takes much to turn her on when she goes into rut, which seems to be what always happens when Johnny asks her for help to ride out his heats, but yeah. Maybe she can blame the rut brain for what happens next.

Without even really thinking about it, Darcy tilts her head forward and bares her teeth, tugging at the skin of Johnny’s neck. She smells a wave of heat go through him, a combination of bonfire and hormones, and her teeth sink in harder. The skin splits all too easily, the metallic taste of blood trickling into her mouth. There’s something about the move that triggers her orgasm, sudden and sharp and vibrating throughout her whole body in a way it never has before.

And just before her brain cuts out, a certain blackness creeping in around the edges, Darcy could swear that she feels Johnny’s teeth sinking into her own skin like they were meant to be there.

**********

Darcy Lewis and Johnny Storm had actually known each other for years before they had started helping each other out with their respective ruts or heats, even though the only ones who know the full story are Jane and Sue. Everyone else just gets a smile and a wink and a story so outlandish that nobody believes it.

The truth is much simpler. They met in high school deep in suburban Long Island, back before the times of Asgardians and solar flares and super powers. They might have even called themselves friends, even though they were floating around with entirely different crowds in their school. Most interaction was in group projects for assorted classes, which they admittedly managed to rock whenever they got a chance to work together.

There was something about Johnny too which always seemed to rouse the protective alpha side of Darcy. Not that Johnny needed protecting - omegas were prized to begin with, and with his personality everyone loved him - but he wasn’t exactly the most down-to-earth sort of a person to begin with. Sometimes that flightiness caught up with him, and the class clown/teen heartthrob act could only take him so far. Most mistakes Darcy would let him hang himself over, as he usually deserved it in those cases, but sometimes…

Well, Darcy in overprotective alpha mode was a sight to behold, apparently. This may have also led to the incident in the science lab once with the rigged up shockwire, but no one was admitting to that one. Maybe at the twenty year reunion all guilty parties would come clean.

But as usually happens after high school, friends are taken in separate directions in their lives, and the next time Darcy and Johnny see each other Darcy’s the lab manager at the Avengers compound and Johnny’s in spandex running around saving the world while setting himself on fire. “Now there is a sight I didn’t expect I would ever see,” she hears a voice call out behind her one day as she’s restocking some supplies at the reception area of the lab. The stacks of post-it notes fall out of her hands as she jumps in surprise at the noise, and she whips around only to find Johnny Storm there, eight years older, slightly bulkier, and apparently not any wiser than the last time she’d seen him given the smirk across his face.

“What?” Darcy blurts out, brow wrinkling.

“You wearing a skirt. Whatever happened to miss ‘I can’t move properly with my legs uncovered’?”

Darcy rolls her eyes hard, and she knows Johnny can hear the growl that’s coming out of her mouth given the way he takes a quick step away from her. “Leggings came back in style. And nice to see you again too, asshole. I’d ask what you’re doing here, but I presume it has something to do with the great meeting of superpowered people downstairs?”

Johnny nods, hands moving to his hips and highlighting the trim waist beneath the spandex that hides absolutely nothing. Always a peacock, Darcy thinks. “That and Reed has to very begrudgingly consult with Tony Stark over a,” Johnny tosses up the air quotes with his hands, “highly sensitive scientific matter, so I thought I’d get up here in advance and get the popcorn ready for the inevitable fireworks.”

Darcy grimaces. She’s heard about the clash of egos that happens whenever Tony Stark and Reed Richards are in the same room together, but as Stark usually stays down in the city more often than not, most of the confrontations have happened at the Baxter Building. “Do I need to have a squirt bottle or a fire extinguisher on hand to separate them if they start to really get into it?”

“You may have better luck with Wonder Woman’s lasso of truth. And the rest of the outfit. That’d be a nice distraction for everyone here,” Johnny says, one eyebrow quirking up in that way of his that just serves to infuriate her more than ever.

It’s nice to know though that he’s still using the same tricks as in high school. Least I know exactly how to handle it, Darcy thinks.

“I’m gonna turn that squirt bottle on you, you horndog. Or better yet,” Darcy reaches into the pocket of her skirt and pulls out a slim silver device that’s shaped like a pen but emits an ominous crackle when she pushes a button on the side of it, “I’ll do far worse to you than I did that time you tried to look down my shirt freshman year and I pushed you into a mudpit for it.”

Yes, technically the modified taser is illegal in the state of New York. However, working with superheroes means that she has a responsibility to take care of herself and her little lab children, so if anyone tries to break into her lab they’ll meet with a nasty little surprise. And besides, Captain America signed off on her having the taser. No one’s going to say no to Captain America when it comes to that.

**********

The heat helps start out a lot more innocently than what they eventually become. Johnny’s the sort of person who embraces his heats - a few days at a time where you’re unapologetically horny because of biology and you’re putting out enough hormones to easily find someone to help you out with it? It’s the stuff tabloid legends are made of, and there are more than a few articles out there from men and women about how much of a good time they’d had with him.

But just because Johnny enjoys his heats doesn’t mean that he isn’t particular about who he spends them with. The woman at the cafe is leaning just a little too closely into his space, her ready and willing scent filling up his nostrils and he just...it doesn’t appeal. Maybe another month it would, but not this one. Johnny leans back carefully, trying to put as much space between them as he can without looking impolite. “Look, thanks for the offer, but--”

His words stutter to a half when the woman puts a hand on his bicep, nails digging sharply into his sensitive skin. “You don’t want to have a little fun?” she asks, silky smooth.

“Everything okay over here?” another, far more familiar voice breaks in, and Johnny feels a warm, steadying hand on his back.

“Great, now that you’re here,” Johnny says, turning around sharply to send a grin in Darcy’s direction. He hopes that she can see the slightly manic edge he’s adding into it, even though it should look like nothing’s wrong at all on the surface. “C’mon, babe, let’s get out of here before I shouldn’t be in public anymore.” He turns her around and hustles her out of the cafe before she can get a word in edgewise.

“Why are you suddenly channeling Sue?” Darcy asks, giving him a glare over her shoulder once they hit the sidewalk.

Johnny looks back, just to double check that the woman’s not following them. “It was the only way I could think to shake her. Heat’s kicking in and soon enough I’m not going to be able to say no.”

“She not hitting your buttons this month?”

He looks around again, then tugs Darcy with him into a narrow walkway between two buildings - not quite private, as it leads to a courtyard and then to another block, but it’s a lot quieter than a Midtown street. “That last fight we had with Doom,” Johnny mutters, shaking his head, “I don’t know, he hit me with something that just...I don’t feel like being touched right now. Especially not by a stranger.”

Darcy just nods, and if she’s got any comment to make about how uncharacteristically serious he’s being then and there, she doesn’t make it. “Jane’s presentation is finished, so I’ll get you home and keep watch until Sue shows up to keep the rest of the wolves at bay.”

“Okay.” Johnny takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring with the overwhelming combination of scents that’s hitting his sensitive nose. “Yeah, we can do this.”

The Baxter Building isn’t far from there, so one quick cab ride later they’re back home and Darcy’s putting Johnny into the room he’s set aside for riding out his heats in, all full of overstuffed pillows and cozy blankets in a giant sunken pit in the floor. A door on one side leads off to what’s presumably a bathroom, and there’s a fridge and shelves with any number of snacks easily available. “This looks like the set for a really bad seventies porn flick,” she blurts out.

“Home sweet home,” is all that Johnny says, tossing himself into the pit of pillows. He burrows in, wrapping himself around one of the bolsters and curling up, not even bothering to take off jacket and shoes.

The room itself is permeated with the sweet scent of an omega in heat, Darcy notices, heady and rich with a hint of smoke that’s something entirely unique to Johnny. Darcy shakes her head, attempting to clear her mind of that scent, and asks “Do you have everything you need? Plugs? Lube?”

Johnny pats the wall on the side of the pit, tugging a pillow down and revealing a cabinet set into the side there. “I’m stocked.”

“Okay,” Darcy says, nodding. “I’ll leave you to it.”

And true to her word, Darcy parks herself outside of Johnny’s bedroom door, waiting there until Sue comes home and rouses her out of the hyperalert state she’s dropped down into, focused only on the thought that Johnny must be undisturbed. But Sue smells safe to her, like good family and not a threat, and her alpha brain knows that Johnny will be well taken care of in Sue’s hands.

**********

The next time Darcy keeps watch over Johnny’s heat isn’t intentional, but more of a case of circumstance. The Four had been loaned out to the Avengers for a mission, but something had gone sideways, leading to a hasty clean up and a hustle back to the Upstate home base. Lots of bumps and bruises were had by all, but there was also some sort of chemical event that had triggered numerous, unexpected heats in the omegas on the team. Clint and Wanda had been hustled off to their various rooms to deal with their heats in private, while Darcy took one look at Johnny and proceeded to start pushing him in the direction of her small rooms. “You look like shit,” she says to him as they move through the corridors of the compound.

“I feel like shit,” he agrees. “Something’s just not right here.” He wipes a hand across a suddenly sweaty brow, and his breath shudders in his chest. “I kinda wanna jump out of my skin.”

“You can lock yourself in my bedroom,” Darcy says. “I don’t have much in the way of supplies, but you can get yourself off in private at least.”

“Or you could help me.”

#fic #darcy x johnny #Darcy Lewis #Johnny Storm #WIP #you have been warned - this story isn't finished #abo verse

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notgonnarememberthis · 7 years

Text

A Better Tomorrow- Chapter 8

I’m sorry for this delay, I honestly meant to update sooner but if I’m being honest I just had the most relaxing spring break ever. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

Daisy’s shoulders were slumped and it looked as if any minute she would collapse. The week weighed down on her shoulders heavily. It’d only been five days since they’d lost Fitzsimmons. The sight of Fitz’s eyes growing distant burned in the back of her brain. Melinda wasn’t faring well either. A nasty fall left her with a sprained ankle and she seldom slept. She kept her eyes fixed on Daisy the entirety of the nights, hand poised on her shotgun. She only succumbed to sleep when it was absolutely necessary. She couldn’t rest. Not when she only saw their faces in the darkness. Not when she heard their voices screaming her name. She was always too late.

“Mel…” Daisy mutters snapping her out of her reverie. She’s not sure when the nickname developed on Daisy’s lips. It reminded her of Phil… of Bobbi… It hurt but she didn’t dare stop her. Not when they were so close.

Just ahead was a large stone wall lined with barbed wire. Melinda let out a grateful sigh paired with a small smile. It was a rarity but they’d finally made it. It was almost over. Without thinking Melinda stumbles up to the large gate tugging at the handle.

“Hands up!” A gruff voice shouts. Melinda snaps her head back to Daisy to reassure herself that she’s not gone. Not like the rest… Daisy has her pistol pointed at the top of the wall where a man sits with a rifle poised straight at her. “Put your weapons down!”

Daisy is the first to drop her pistol to the ground. It was the only thing she was armed with. The only weapon she knew how to operate with the little training Melinda was able to provide on their journey. Melinda tossed her shotgun to the dirt as well as her two pistols and three combat knives. A woman steps out of the gate, glasses poised on the edge of her nose and the ends of her hair dyed pink.

“On your knees.” She commands pointing to the ground with the shotgun in her hand. Melinda spies a scanner in the hands of the man behind her and her heart skips several beats. “Now.” The woman growls pointing to the spot beside Daisy.

Melinda moves quickly snatching one of the knives from the dirt throwing it into the man’s knee. She kicks the tip of the gun to the side as a blast goes off just barely missing her leg. She lets out a cry of pain forgetting about her bad foot in her rush of adrenaline. The woman smacks her in the knee with the butt of her gun before delivering a blow to the side of her head. Her vision is blurry as she coughs into the dirt. Her ears are ringing from the hit and her eyes are heavy with exhaustion. She’s gotten a hold of her other knife though. She just needs to stay still enough to catch her off guard…

“Millie!” A familiar voice shouts.

Melinda turns on her back finding the woman pointing her shotgun at her body. Daisy is frozen on her knees, eyes glued to Melinda with fear and confusion reflecting in them.

Maria bounds out of the gates, rifle strapped across her shoulders. “Is that any way to greet your sister in law?” Maria quips, a playful eyebrow raised to her attacker. “I thought I taught you to play nice Tori.”

“She attacked first to be fair.” ‘Tori’ remarks. Maria runs over to Melinda offering her a hand. She takes it sluggishly allowing herself to be pulled to her feet.

“You’re kidding me right?” Daisy asks. “There’s no way this is your sister.”

“Practically.” Melinda sighs. “She spent six months on my couch so I think she’s earned that title.”

“I told you that fire was not my fault!” Maria shouts in defense. A pointed look from both her and the woman nicknamed Tori relented her rather quickly. “I try making cupcakes once.”

“And that’s why I make our meals.” Tori says. “Come on. Let’s get you both inside.”

Melinda went to take a step before the ringing in her ears started up again. Daisy caught the majority of her weight sweeping in under her arm quickly. Maria was right by her side as well.

“You did quite a number on her huh?” Maria jokes and takes her weight off Daisy despite the younger girl’s protests.

“She threw a knife into Berkley’s knee!” Tori says defensively. “We’ll get her to the infirmary. You,” She looks to Daisy, “can get acquainted with the others.

“No.” Daisy crosses her arms trying her best to appear tough. “I’m staying with Melinda.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine Mel.” She protests, “I know you’ve hardly slept all week.” She frowns.

“Daisy I trust them.”

“She just tried to shoot you!” Daisy screams.

“I did stab her colleague.”

“Yeah but-”

“No buts.” Melinda scolds, “Go make friends.” Begrudgingly Daisy walks off with Tori to be greeted by the crowd of other survivalists.

“So what’s the story with the girl?” Maria asks as soon as they’re alone in the infirmary.

“I’ll tell my story if you tell yours.” Melinda smirks as she shines a small flashlight into her eyes.

“Deal. You first.”

Melinda goes on telling the tale with provided commentary by Maria. By the time she finishes Maria has already assured her she has no concussion and has wrapped her bad ankle.

“So Phil’s really gone…” Maria sighs.

“He risked himself because he believed in all of this.” She nods.

“And this girl is the cure?”

“That’s what Andrew believes. She has to be taken to the lab.”

“Well there’s only one that I can think of. It’s not safe out there right now though Millie.”

“I thought I told you not to call me that.” Melinda scolds lightly.

“Yeah… Not happening.” She says. “I want you both to stay. You need to heal and from what I can tell that girl needs more training.”

“But the cure.”

“It can wait. We’ve waited this long.” Melinda sighs knowing she’s right. “Now let’s go show your girl that you’re okay before she crawls out of her skin.”

“You never told me your story.”

“Not much to tell,” Maria shrugs, “I met Victoria Hand when she saved my ass from Hydra two years ago. I chipped down her walls and she eventually agreed to marry me.” She smiles to herself and it causes a small pang in her chest. That could’ve been her and Phil if she hadn’t have been so stubborn.

“I’m happy for you.”

As they step out Daisy is already surrounded by a group of onlookers, all curious to this newcomer. One is a man, taller than them both with a muscular build. He stands out the most in a medical lab coat while the others are in either survivalist gear or their own outfits torn from misuse. The thought brings her eyes to a curly haired girl in a flower dress. It was stained with dirt and frayed at the edges but she somehow manages to keep an air of elegance. Next a pixie haired woman staring at them both with overwhelming curiosity. Finally the freckled man in the back comes to her attention. He’s staring at Daisy with skepticism and suspicion, arms crossed over his leather clad chest. She shook off the eery feeling the man gave her, eyes snapping back to Daisy once more. The girl had spotted her and rushes towards her with a smile. It was uncharacteristic for the gloomy girl who’d stayed by her side all this week. It was almost like Daisy could feel the same thing in the air here as she did.

It felt safe.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Close your eyes!” Daisy’s voice calls into the gym excitedly. She had been nearly twenty minutes late for training. Melinda had half a mind to go find her and another half to make today’s lesson excruciating. “I have a surprise.”

“A surprise that warrants being twenty minutes late?” Melinda quips but regardless she does as the girl says. They’d been here for seven months now. Melinda was familiar with the atmosphere and knew almost every name on base. They called this place the Hub and Victoria was in charge. You were divided into different sectors based on skill set. Lincoln, the man she’d met in the lab coat months ago, was the head of the medical sector. Raina is the head of communications. She was in charge of submissions into the Hub and Melinda was not exactly pleased with the four hour interrogation. Robbie, the man in leather, was their scavenger. He was one of few allowed to leave the base. Melinda hardly didn’t hear about the man as Daisy constantly gushed about his car Lucy. She had to admit it was a pretty impressive car.

“About that…” Melinda rolls her eyes but keeps them closed. She, herself, had been assigned to training. She trained multiple agents including Daisy and the curious eyed girl who’d revealed her name to be Piper. “Okay. Open.”

When Melinda opened her eyes Daisy was standing in front of her but something was different. Her hair was cut above her shoulders and much darker than before. Melinda couldn’t help but smirk slightly. The past few months here had been good for Daisy. Not being around death all the time and being able to act her age… Besides that she’d quickly become her best trainee, proficient in any gun Melinda handed her. She’d even managed to pin her a few times. Of course she’d been able to free herself just as quickly but she still counts it.

“You like it?”

“It looks great.” Melinda chuckles lightly. As much as she was begrudging to admit it, it brought a reality to her. She didn’t really need Melinda anymore and it was beginning to get to a time that she should leave.

“What’s that look?” Daisy frowns. A downside of all their time spent together, Daisy could now read her almost as well as Phil did.

“I think it’s time I leave.” Melinda says slowly.

“By time.” Daisy laughs. “I was beginning to wonder when we’d get on the go again. I know my training is important but I think I’m ready now.”

“No Daisy.” Melinda sighs. “Maria will take you to the lab. I’m leaving.”

Daisy steps back as if she’d just struck her. She might as well have… “You’re leaving me?”

“You don’t need me to take you to the lab and Maria is much better at handling what SHIELD has.”

“You’re kidding right?” Daisy scoffs. “You’ve got to be messing with me right now.”

“Daisy…”

“No!” She flinches back as she tries to reach for her. “You don’t get to just leave me!” She snaps.

“Da-”

“No.” Then she’s gone, running out as quickly as she’d come in.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It’s nearly sunset when she finally finds her. Daisy had taken a horse and ridden it off base and into the woods. Melinda finds the mare tied to a porch outside of a house that is seemingly abandoned. She frowns as she walks inside, keeping her pistol drawn just in case. She finds her on the top floor in a room that looks like it belonged to a girl only a little younger than Daisy.

“Is this really all they had to worry about? If their skirt matches their top?” Daisy asks after she picks up on Melinda’s footsteps. She’s holding a journal up against her folded knees. Melinda can still see the tear tracks on her face.

“We need to talk.” Melinda frowns.

“What is there to talk about? You’re leaving me and I’m gonna become some kind of lab rat.” Daisy frowns stubbornly.

“Is that what you’re afraid of? Becoming a lab rat?” Melinda moves to sit across from her and stays after she doesn’t stop her. “You don’t have to do this.”

“You really don’t get it do you?” Daisy scoffs. “I’m going to the lab with or without you. You’re gonna leave me there just like everyone else.”

“Daisy…”

“First my parents sent me away to military camp then died while I was there, Elena died on me, then Andrew left, Phil, Mack, Fitzsimmons, and now you?” Daisy rolls her eyes burying her face in her legs when her tears betray her. “You’d think I’d be used to people leaving me by now.”

“Elena?”

“She was my best friend.” Daisy sighs. “We went to military school together when she disappeared. I didn’t see her for days. Then one day she’s at my window, telling me that I gotta come with her. It was the best night of my life. We went to an abandoned mall and stayed there all night. In the heat of the moment I’d told her I loved her. She kissed me.” Daisy smiles sadly, “We had a hell of a time apparently because we drew attention of a hourde.” Her body shakes with the pain of the memory. “We were surrounded and she decided we’d go out together. It was supposed to be poetic I guess. Like Romeo and Juliet?” She shakes her head as more tears escape. “That was the day I found out I was immune.”

“Daisy…”

“So go ahead and leave. I don’t care.”

“I do.” Melinda frowns but it seems Daisy isn’t listening anymore. “I remember the start of the apocalypse… You weren’t even born yet.” This seems to catch Daisy’s attention enough but she continues anyways. “It was the day after my birthday and I got home late from work. Some girl had managed to hack into SHIELD’s database. Now this was SHIELD as an organization, not a rebellious movement.” She clarifies when Daisy opens her mouth to speak. “I found my daughter Bobbi waiting on the couch for me, asleep.” Melinda shakes her head when Daisy goes to speak again. “Not my biological daughter. I adopted her after I found her at a murder scene. Her parents had been killed.”

“Whoa…”

“That night there was a gas leak. Hundreds in the city became sick instantly. Had I stayed behind twenty minutes longer, I would have too.” Melinda sighs. “That night Maria picked us both up and we fled the city. Along the way I could see her best friend’s house up in flames. Hunter was a pain in the ass but he was good to Bobbi…” Melinda swallows heavily, “We got into a wreck when we reached the city. Bobbi broke her ankle and couldn’t walk so I had to carry her to the highway. Maria stayed behind to fight off people infected by the gas.” Melinda bites her lip staring out the window now. “That night Hydra found Bobbi and I hiking up to the highway… They found no use for us. So they shot.”

“No…”

“Bobbi died in my arms. Just like Fitz.” Melinda blinks away the tears now building. The only other person she dared talk to about this was Phil. Now it felt right though. “I would’ve died too if it hadn’t have been for Maria.”

“Shit May… I didn’t know. I-” A shot from the distance shatters the window showering the two of them in glass shards.

“Get to the roof!” Melinda shouts over the noise pulling Daisy off the bench. She passes her the sniper. “Go now!” Daisy nods running off.

Melinda scouts the house taking out the two inside easily. Pushing a dresser in front of the stairs, she sets up a barricade for Daisy at least. Melinda runs out into the yard finding four of them already dead. Melinda shoots two hiding in a bush near their horses. A man takes a shot knocking one of the horses to the ground dead. Melinda curses under her breath but Daisy’s already got the man covered. A woman daringly charges Melinda tackling her to the ground. Melinda flips them with ease knocking the woman out with three punches to the temple. A final shot rings through the air taking out the man who’d lingered behind her.

Melinda peers up through the darkness at Daisy. Even in the dim light shining from the moon she can see Daisy’s beaming smile. She waves her down after another round of checking indicating that it’s safe.

“Let’s get you to that lab.” Melinda smiles patting Daisy on the shoulder as a sign of how proud she is.

“So you’re staying with me?”

“Yeah. I’m staying.”

#maydaisy #my mother daughter duo #melinda may #Daisy Johnson #maria hill #victoria hand #do maria and victoria have a ship name #they do now #varia?#martoria?#mori?#agents of shield #Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.#aos #The Last of Us AU #zombie au #zombie apocolypse au

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mosylufanfic · 7 years

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Forgiveness (you can’t imagine)

Just working some things out, because we all know we probably won't get this in canon. Written for my dear @valeriemperez

And yes, I know the Hamilton reference in the title isn’t perfect. That’s on purpose.

Forgiveness (you can't imagine)

Iris almost ran through the curving halls of Star Labs, her shoes squeaking on the smooth floor. She cut through the cortex, her heart beating too fast even for the run, and made for the med lab.

She caught the flash of white hair and stopped dead. Animal fear jittered in her stomach. She swallowed it down and said clearly, "I don't know why I thought they might be kidding."

Caitlin Snow - Killer Frost - straightened up from her computer. "Iris," she said.

"What are you doing here?"

"Working. What does it look like?"

"Those idiots," Iris said, staying well back. She carried a taser now, a nasty little piece of work, and its weight in her pocket was a snarling comfort. "I mean, Julian loves you so of course he wants you back. And Cisco, well, I guess it's habit by now, isn't it? Even after all those times you tried to kill him. But what on earth made you think I'd be okay with this?"

"Nothing," the other woman said. "I don't expect you to be okay with this at all."

Iris didn't know what to call her. On the way back from the cemetery, Barry had filled her in on what she'd said after HR's funeral, and it sounded like so much bullshit to her. If she wasn't Caitlin and she wasn't Killer Frost, then what was she?

"You think you can just come back here and pick up your old life after two months like nothing happened? Like you never helped to kill HR? Like you never would have done the same to me?"

"I know what I did," Frost said. "And I'm sorry. For everything I did, especially to you."

"Is that supposed to make it better?"

"I don't expect anything from you."

"Nothing is exactly what you're getting."

"Yes, you've made that clear." She tapped her pale fingers on the desk. Iris couldn't stop herself from staring at her nails, unpainted and cut short. She remembered when they'd been blue and claw-like, and when mist had drifted off them even at rest.

They weren't misting now. Did that mean something?

"Fuck you," Iris said, and turned to go yell at Cisco until they kicked her out. Preferably to the Arctic Circle, where she couldn't do any more harm than the landscape.

"You were willing to forgive and rehabilitate Savitar," Frost said loudly. Her voice echoed around the med lab. "And he didn't even ask for it. Why am I different? Is it because I don't wear Barry's face?"

It stopped Iris dead. She remembered how easy it had been, to look at Savitar, not-Barry-but-still-Barry, and see the pain underneath the rage and the madness in his well-loved eyes.

"I killed Savitar in the end," she said. And she still woke up in cold sweat sometimes, seeing his dear familiar frame arch backward against the impact of the bullet. Barry, not Barry. "Did you miss that?"

"No," Frost said. "But you gave him a chance first. He was the one who squandered it."

Iris snorted.

"Cisco and Julian might have admitted me back here, by the way. They might even have forgiven me. I don't know. But they don't trust me. There are temperature sensors every five feet in this room. Every ten feet in the rest of the building. They're downstairs working on the rest of the system right now. If the temperature dips by so much as five degrees, then - well, I don't know what'll happen. But Cisco designed it, so it'll be effective."

She turned then. "Well, naturally. The protectors of Central City aren't total idiots," she said, although this was news to her. Maybe Cisco had been going to tell her about it, but she'd ended the call and raced over here before he could, ignoring the buzz of her phone in her pocket.

"You don't trust me, you won't forgive me, but you need me, and you know it. That's why you haven't told me to my face to get out."

Iris swallowed.

As if the disappearance of the Flash had been a finger pulled out of a dam, the Central City underworld was spilling over, rising up. Cisco and Wally were doing their best, and their best was very good. They got the occasional helping hand from Cynthia, when she could come over from Earth-19, and backup from Iris and Julian.

But it wasn't enough, and they all knew it.

And Iris might be repulsed in every inch of her skin, looking at the woman who had once been a friend, but she loved her city with every inch of her skin, too - something Cisco would have reminded her of when she went to demand Frost's ousting.

The question wasn't whether Killer Frost could help. Besides the simple consideration of another pair of hands, cold powers could fill in a lot of gaps where speed and vibes didn't cover. The question was whether they could trust her to be there when they needed her.

"Why was it so easy for you to turn?" she said. "Savitar I understood. He'd been marinating in pain and rage for thousands upon thousands of years. But you - all it took was - "

"Dying," Frost said calmly, tapping a few keys on the computer and studying the effect. "I died. And what came back wasn't - wasn't entirely me."

"What did come back?"

Her hands stilled. "I don't really know," she said. "I'd like to think it was something else entirely, but I can't lie to myself like that anymore. I think - that it was the worst of me. The rage. The loss. The helplessness. All the things I'd been locking away because there wasn't time, was there? There's never time to feel any of that. Not in this place."

Iris wanted to spit at her. Wanted to scorn her. Poor widdle Caitlin, were your feelings too much for you?

But she had a point. There wasn't time to feel everything there was to feel. Not at Star Labs, not protecting Central City. You had to pack it away and get on with things. There was no other choice.

Sometimes in the night, in her too-big bed, Iris's own loss and sorrow yawned like a pit of darkness in her belly. She stood on the precipice feeling its hot breath and thought, What if I just let it eat me alive?

"Why were your powers part of that?"

"Something about the cold, I suppose. Or maybe it's because I'd spent a year listening to my mother and my best friend telling me that my powers would consume me, just like all those other things would consume me if I let them. It seemed a reasonable conjunction."

"Oh, did it," Iris said faintly.

"What came back didn't care," Frost said. "And what came back didn't want to care. It was so very freeing. You have no idea. Caring was desperately painful at the best of times, and when it stopped - She didn't want to go back to that. She wanted to surgically excise everything that ever made her care. I suppose it's why I targeted Cisco so often."

"And now you care again," Iris said. "That's heartwarming. It is."

"Believe me or don't," she said coolly. "But I care about Central City. And Star Labs. I care about Cisco. And Julian and Wally. About Cynthia. And - whether you believe it or not - about you."

"And what if you decide that you don't care, again?"

She nodded a little, as if she'd been waiting for this question. She reached out and laid what looked like a tiny remote down on the edge of the desk closest to Iris. "There. That's for you."

"What is it?"

She pointed at a tiny metal circle on the desk in front of her. "It controls this."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Press the button and find out."

Iris leaned over and stretched out her hand to pick up the remote. Maybe this was a trick, she thought. Maybe this was poison to the touch, or -

She hit the button. Her thumb, slick with sweat, slipped.

Lightning arced out of the device on the desk, leaping to the computer, which let out a high pitched noise. The screen went white and then black. A wisp of smoke leaked out the top and a strong smell of scorched electronics filled the room.

"Oh shit," Iris said involuntarily.

"Hmmm," Frost said. "Did you hit it twice?"

"Uh, yeah. I just fried your computer, in case you didn't notice." Caitlin would have been squeaking like a trodden mouse right now.

Frost shrugged. "Everything is backed up to the cloud."

"What is that?"

"It's for me. I'm going to implant it here." She touched her neck.

"A shock collar?"

"If you like." She tapped her fingers again. There was something nervous in the movement. "Cisco gets all the credit for his gadgets, but everyone seems to forget that I trained as a bioengineer as well. My designs maybe aren't as elegant - " She looked ruefully at the fried computer - "but they'll get the job done. One press was all it would have taken. Two would - well, you saw."

The fried computer wisped smoke.

"That'll kill you."

"Probably."

Iris dropped the remote. It clattered to the floor. "I can't do that," she said. "I can't hold your life in my hands. I'm not you."

"Is that referring to Caitlin or to Killer Frost?" she asked softly.

Iris had no answer for that.

"Take it or don't," Frost said. "But that's what I'm offering. Not platitudes. Not more apologies. Not reassurances. Those are all just words and we both know it."

Iris leaned down to pick up the remote. It felt far heavier than it had a right to do. She stared at it. "Change the setting," she said abruptly.

"To a no-kill?"

Iris looked up. "Change the setting so I have to do it deliberately," she said. "I refuse to kill you by accident if you're being useful."

Emotion flickered across her pale face. If she’d still been Caitlin, Iris had a feeling she would have recognized it. She took a measured breath. "A one-second lag should do it," she said, making a note to herself.

"You need this back?"

"Just for a moment." She picked up the evil little device and took the remote, moving to another computer out in the cortex. She hooked it up, made some adjustments, and then unplugged it. She handed it back and moved the device to an empty table.

Iris hit the button twice, fast, the way she had before. It sparked, but not like it had before. She hit the button, counted one Mississippi in her head, and hit it again. Electricity arced wildly, starting a small fire on a greasy rag sitting a little too close.

Frost put out her hand and froze it before it could grow into a large fire. It withered and died, smoking feebly.

Iris didn't want to, but she couldn't stop the wild tremors at the spill of mist, at the wash of cold. Somewhere off in the distance, an alarm started hooting wildly.

A portal opened up and Cisco leapt through it, teeth bared. "Hey," he snarled.

"Everything's fine," Frost said, shutting her hands so the mist dissipated. "Just taking care of a fire. You shouldn't leave greasy rags lying around, you know."

Cisco looked at Iris.

"It's fine," she said, forcing her words to stay steady, not to tremble. "All of it." She closed her hand around the remote. "Okay. She stays."

The snarl melted away and he just looked baffled. "That easy?"

"We've discussed terms and conditions," Frost said. "We've come to an understanding, haven't we, Iris?"

"Yes," Iris said. "We have."

"Okay," he said, still looking a little baffled.

He watched Frost for a long moment, and Iris turned away from the look on his face. She wondered if this was going to be okay for him, being this close to the person who'd once been his best friend.

"Uh. In that case, I should - I left something - " He gestured vaguely labward.

"Sure," Iris said. "Go on."

He didn't pull open another portal, but walked this time, his shoulders tense as if he was trying not to look back at Frost's eyes following him.

Iris had to look away from that, too.

When he'd disappeared around the bend, Frost said in her steady, calm voice, "I'll let Cisco know when I've implanted it. You can come by and test it."

Iris narrowed her eyes. "Does he know what this is?"

"Of course not," she said. "He would hate it."

"He really would," Iris said, and put the remote in her pocket. "All right. I've just wasted my lunch hour on this, so I should get going long enough to at least grab a sandwich on the way back." She started toward the door.

"Iris."

She didn't want to, but she stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry about Barry," she said.

Light from the windows caught her eyes. They were brown. Caitlin's eyes. It also glinted on the ice-white of her hair.

"We're getting him back," Iris said. "We are. I have the date saved."

"I know," the other woman said, and went back to her lab.

As Iris walked out of the cortex, the weight of a life rode in her pocket.

It felt unsettlingly good.

FINIS

#Iris West #Caitlin Snow #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #I have lots of feelings #and very little faith in the writers tbh #the flash

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