#fractures chapter 38 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mylifeisactuallyamess · 1 year

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Chapter 8: Medcentre

A/N: Still contributing to Tech Tuesday with my meagre offerings 🥹

Warnings: Bit of a Hunter centric chapter but Tech still features heavily. Mentions of panic, stress, Tech is right there with his voice and comfort. Description of injuries and medical talk, mild assault (Stitch is grabbed). Small time jump. (I was going through a Hunter stage when I wrote this and it shows. I’m sorry 🫠)

Word Count: 5.5k+

3 months later.

“I may recharge for the night.”

“Yeah sure,” you told Beetoo. “I can clean up here.” As you gathered things to put in the sterilisation chamber you heard the door open and close. “Come tomorrow, I have no more appointments.”

“And here I thought we didn’t need them.” You whirled round to see Hunter slumped in the doorway, a hand spread on his side under his chest-plate. Long strands of dark auburn hair drifted across his face, covering the expression that spread over his features, he was in a great deal of pain and it showed.

“Hunter!” You helped him to the bed. “What am I dealing with?” Your hand hovered, ready to act.

“I don’t think it’s penetrative,” he grunted. “Possible fractured rib.” You noticed when he breathed in his entire body stuttered, like he couldn’t fill his lungs properly.

You released the gription so the armour loosened; gently putting the chest-plate on the floor, eyes exploring the broad plain of his chest. The padding was still intact and that was a good sign. You released his spaulders and removed the vambraces, followed by his gloves.

“I’m going to remove your padding now.” Gently you tugged the material away, helping him slip out of it to reveal his tanned, toned, tattooed skin. The tattoo on his face extended down his chest but it did nothing to hinder the bruise that blackened his side.

Grabbing your handheld scanner you pressed the sensor onto his skin, “Breathe,” you ordered. He sucked in a breath through his nose, face pulling as he tried not to make a noise. You watched his breathing pattern on the screen and looked for any anomalies. “I don’t see pneumothorax…lay back.” He complied, settling back on the bed so you could feel his stomach. Your fingers glided over his skin, looking for anything that wasn’t rock hard muscle. You found a soft area and he bit back a yell, his entire body reacting to the pain. “No hemothorax either, I do need to get a look inside.” You moved away to start the tomography machine, pressing the necessary programmes you needed on the screen.

You helped him take the rest of his armour off, removing his boots and greaves, placing them carefully to one side. Soon he was stripped to the waist, only his tan coloured trousers remained. He moved slowly; not the sure footed Hunter you were used to.

He hesitated, eyeing the machine like it was going to bite him. “It’s just to take a picture so I can see where the fracture is and if you have any bleeding.” Approaching him cautiously you could see distrust in the downturn of his mouth. “You’re not leaving here without this scan, Hunter.” He nodded, still holding his side as though it was making him feel better.

“I just, lay down?”

“Yes, but first…” you reached up to slip his bandana off releasing the messy top of his hair. He really had the best hair of the whole Batch.

He took the material from your grip, tossing it in the pile with his armour. “Now you’re ready.” He moved away, easing himself onto the bed with a held back grunt when the pain got almost too much. It lit up around him, the soft blue glow casting shadows across his face as he tried to get comfortable. You started it, listening to the whirring that seemed to clear your mind better than meditation.

Quickly the picture was put up before you and it was worse than Hunter was letting on. “Now I know why you didn’t want a picture,” you told him. “I see two non-displaced rib fractures in ribs eight and nine. Also, your temperature is currently sitting at 38°C which means you are now under observation.”

“No I can’t… we have…”

“And they’re going to have to do it without you,” you spoke over him, crossing your arms in a very Hunter-like stance.

“Can’t you just give me something for the pain?” Hunter asked hopefully.

“You walk out this door and go hanging off cliffs or rolling around the floor in shoot ‘em ups, those ribs are going to dislodge and then you won’t be breathing, let alone anything else.”

“Stitch…” he made that face, the one where he was going to ask you to do something you shouldn’t with those big brown eyes…

“No!” You held up a hand and turned away from him. “I am doing my job, what I am paid for, something you encouraged me to do!” Angrily you gathered up the droid's utensils and shoved them in the sterilisation chamber.

“How long am I out of commission?” Hunter grumbled the words, his posture slumped on the end of the tomography machine.

“You are banned, banned from any heavy lifting or strenuous activity for at least three weeks. You need to sleep upright for 5 days or until you feel able to lay down comfortably. If you cough hold a pillow against your chest.” While you were talking your hands were busy making a shot of painkillers to give him, loading the vial into the injector and coming to a stop at his side. Placing a hand on his bare shoulder you leaned in to find the perfect spot on his neck to administer the dose. The injector hissed but he didn’t even wince, just kept his rich, caf coloured eyes trained on your concentrating face.

“You said I’m under observation?” He was so close, you could feel the heat radiating off his skin and you made yourself back away.

“Yes. Your temperature is higher than it should be so you need to spend one night here.” He looked away, clearly mulling over the information you’d given him.

“I need to contact Echo,” said as he stood up. Nodding you bent down and picked up his comlink.

“I’ll find you some clothes.” The supply cupboard was nice and cool, the glow panels blinking to life when you walked in. You had so much in here, you really should do an inventory soon.

When you returned Hunter was waiting patiently for the fresh clothes, a grey hoodie and some loose fitting trousers. Wordlessly he took them and you left him to change, moving his armour into the small private room you had for patients staying the night. You put in an extra pillow in case he needed it in the night, smoothing out the covers and stepping back to make sure everything was perfect.

His hand caught you, stopping you from bumping into him and you jolted like he’d burnt you, “Sorry,” he muttered.

“N-no it’s ok,” hating the way your voice wavered because of the unexpected contact. “If you need anything just press this, I don’t sleep much so chances are you’ll catch me awake.” He was looking at you with such a soft expression it made your whole throat dry up and you had to cough to continue talking. “If your pain worsens or you start feeling unwell, struggling to breathe…well the sensors will alert me anyway. Goodnight,” you breathed, skirting round him when he stepped back to allow you to pass. You weren’t finished in the medbay but you had to distance yourself. Knowing that any of the Batch were hurt sent you in a spiral so you did the only thing that would calm you down.

“Havoc-2, do you read me?”

“I read you, Havoc Medic.” There…that’s what you wanted to hear.

“Are you sure this is a secure channel?” You turned the com over in your hands, still marvelling at Tech’s technical genius. He had given you these coms a couple of months ago but you’d only used them once or twice. You had held them much more than that, frightened to push the button and find him out of range or just…busy. But even holding them helped you in a way, knowing that Tech gave you this was enough sometimes.

“I programmed these coms myself, someone would have to be cleverer than me to hack them. No one alive like that exists.” Even over the com you could hear the touch of steadfast pride in Tech’s voice at his own abilities.

“I’m sure a droid could eventually crack them open,” you responded slyly.

“A droid is not a sentient and therefore, not classed as alive.” There was a pause where he waited for you to respond but you had no idea what to say. “Are we going to hold a conversation or was there a specific reason you contacted me?”

“I…I was just wondering how the big ships in the war worked?” You could just imagine the disappointed grimace on his face at your vague description, the adjustment of his goggles as he prepared to launch himself into this stream of information retelling.

“I am going to need you to be more specific, to which ships are you referring? Republic or Separatist? All ships are large to someone, are you asking about ships that house over seven thousand crew or ones that only need 200 hundred but can carry 100,000 tonnes…”

“Tech. Pick a favourite.” You rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, laying the com on the pillow beside you and resting your hand behind your head.

“Ah. If you had just asked that in the first place,” there was a slight scuffle and you were sure you heard the buzz of his tools as he spoke. “What systems were you interested in?”

“The engines, tell me about the engines.”

“Very well. My particular favourite is the Venator class star destroyer. Primarily used as flag ships for the Jedi Generals during the Clones Wars era. These ships had 4 primary drive engines…” closing your eyes you breathed in deeply, letting it out in a controlled way as Tech emptied his mind of every scrap of information about these ships you really had no interest in. You weren’t even sure how long he talked at you, not even bothered if you were still listening, he was just happy someone had asked for information he could give. It wasn’t until you realised he’d stopped and your heart picked up at the idea you could have fallen asleep and it might offend him.

“Havoc-2?” You whispered.

“I had assumed you’d fallen asleep.”

“Sorry.”

“Do not be, it is late and your appointments are rather full for the next few weeks.”

“Tech, did you download my appointments?”

“Well I…” he cleared his throat and again you imagined the quick goggle adjustment probably a finger to the middle of them this time. “Yes. That is how Hunter knew you were done for the day.”

“How long did he wait until he came to see me?”

“He did not seem that injured, so he decided to complete the mission before seeking your assistance.”

“Tech.”

“He waited approximately 15 standard hours and 48 standard minutes. I understand now that might not have been the best course of action.” Pinching the bridge of your nose you wondered why the Galaxy had thrown you in the path of these reckless maniacs.

“I should get some sleep. Thank you Tech.”

“I should hope, next time we meet, you can tell me the fuel consumption rate of a Venator at full light speed.”

“Maybe I will,” you teased.

“Goodnight, Havoc Medic.”

“Night Havoc-2. Medic out.”

You woke the next morning, groggy and heavy lidded. Another night of restless sleep haunted by deep voices with no name and painful reminders. You changed, moving to the kitchen and making two cups of caf. You could never eat in the morning, whether it was a habit because you were used to rations or it was just who you were as a person—you couldn’t tell anymore.

You knocked on Hunter’s door but got no response so you left the cup on the floor to the side and went to set up for the day. Beetoo woke up, her receptors blinking like a tired human and you appreciated that touch from Tech.

“Good morning Stitch,” he said in her melodic voice. “Another full day ahead.”

“So it would seem,” you replied as you emptied the sterilising chamber.

“We have a guest,” the droid stated. “And yet there is nothing on my records.” That you didn’t appreciate, she really sounded like Tech sometimes.

“He came in late. I’ll do it today.” Which reminded you, he needed some meds. “Make me a dose of this please?” You showed the droid the meds you gave Hunter last night and she instantly went to work.

“How long is his observation?” The headpiece swivelled around to look at you, the arms still flawlessly doing their job.

“Just for 24 standard hours, as long as his temperature comes down.” You took the injector off her but this time you didn’t knock. The door slid open and you expected to see him sitting up or waking up with the noise. Hunter didn’t move, staying slumped in his semi upright position.

“Blast it!” The sensors hadn’t been switched on because you were too distracted last night and now his condition had deteriorated. “Beetoo! Bring me the kit!” Your instincts kicked in, checking his pulse, watching his breaths, listening for any wheezing and noticing the fine sheen of sweat that covered his marked face. “Hunter. Hunter, can you hear me?” He groaned softly, his brow wrinkling at your loud, firm voice. The torch flickered over his eyes and you saw a good reaction from both, next you pressed the scanner to his chest, watching the lines on the screen as it registered his breathing and heart rate.

He showed no obvious signs of distress aside from the elevated temperature and a racing heart so you went ahead and gave him the shot, smoothing down his damp hair as you did.

“Should we move him to the bays?” The droid asked but you shook your head.

“We are full today, leave him here and we’ll keep checking on him. Set a timer for the next lot of meds he needs.” The door com sounded and you groaned, your day was going to be a whirlwind.

Beetoo and you checked in on Hunter often. His temperature dipped and he stopped sweating but he didn’t wake up fully, only managing to open his eyes for some water before passing out again. If he didn’t improve you were going to have to scan him again.

Beetoo was clearing up after the busy day while you dealt with the last patient. A Rodian, bright green skin and brilliant starry eyes. He had a nasty slice in his forearm but refused to tell you how he’d acquired such a laceration. Still, you took the time to numb him and sew it up, some of your best work. Bacta was great in emergencies and it prevented infection but it didn’t stop the scarring from such a deep wound. Nothing but perfect stitches could minimise that risk.

“Keep the bandage on for a week, you’ll need to come back to have it redressed and if you feel unwell or the pain doesn’t subside you’ll need to return.” You grabbed the datapad that Tech had modified for your use in the medcentre and held it out. “If you could just enter your chaincode, payment will be taken automatically.” You had rules, if Cid sent someone to you they made it known and you used a modified code for their payment, otherwise everyone else had to input their own code in. You weren’t a charity, you needed to survive.

“No.” Instantly you were on the defensive, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your gut.

“I just need your code…”

“I said, no.” Before you could react the Rodian jumped you. His hand clamped over your mouth to stop you screaming and to your horror, you froze. Eyes rolling, mind shattering at the sensation of confinement, the squeezing of his arms, the ragged breath, it brought forward all your demons.

Your heart throbbed in fear, your legs sagging refusing to hold your weight so he hauled you upright; dragging you towards the door. Small whimpers passed involuntarily through your lips, tears wetting your face but still the Rodian kept his tight grip on you.

“Going somewhere?” A deep voice penetrated the hazy fog you’d fallen into and it kicked you to react. If the Rodian got hold of Hunter he could seriously hurt him. You brought a heel down on his foot, an elbow jab to the solar plexus had him loosening his grip and you managed to free yourself gasping wildly for air. Thankfully your patient took one look at Hunter glaring at him from the doorway and fled outside.

You used the wall as support, trying to calm yourself and concentrate on Hunter who had gone to check everything was clear. When he came back his attention was on you.

“Stitch? Are you still with me?” Tentatively he reached for your shoulders, putting his concerned face right in your unfocused eye line.

“Y-yes! Y-you shouldn’t b-be out of bed y-yet.” Get a grip, Needles. Closing your eyes and swallowing down the excess fear only to move it from your throat to your insides.

“I felt something was wrong.” Hunter and his senses. Of course he did. Your hand was shaking badly when you reached for his neck and tried to take his pulse. Most people would have frowned, told you not to do that, ushered you somewhere else and made you sit down, but not Hunter. He gazed at you with those beautiful eyes, letting you feel the beat of his body through his skin, watching your lips mouth silently as you counted.

It calmed you, centred your mind and gave control of your body back. With a quiet exhale you rested your hand on Hunter’s shoulder, feeling the softness of his hair brushing over your fingers.

“Thank you,” the words were barely a whisper but he gave you a small smile, just in the corner of his mouth. He turned back towards the door, hauling you roughly behind him as it opened to reveal the rest of the Batch.

“Hunter! Oh…” Omega drew up quickly, bringing Tech, Echo and Wrecker to a halt. Hunter dropped his defensive stance straight away and moved aside.

“Is everything all right?” Tech shoved his goggles up his nose a little harder than necessary as he peered at you both.

“What’s happened?” Echo demanded with a frown.

“It’s fine,” Hunter held his hands out to try and calm the squad before they ran off to find whoever had upset you. “It’s been dealt with.”

“You’ve been crying,” Omega innocently pointed out, her look of concern almost a mirror of Hunter’s.

“I’m fine. Just someone refused to pay…” you told them, wiping at your eyes.

“Are you hurt?” Tech stepped forward and you gave him a shaky smile, appreciating the softened tone when he spoke to you.

“Who was it?” Wrecker snarled from the doorway. “Want us to find ‘em?”

“I really don’t think they will be back.” Turning your attention back to Hunter you saw him favouring his side. “Sit down at least, medics orders.” You went to help him but Echo was already there, taking Hunter’s weight on one side and leading him back to the bays. Omega followed, her deep hazel brown eyes watching her brother closely.

“Did you want me to pinpoint who had registered to the medcentre and trace them that way?” Tech was already tapping on his datapad, probably hunting down whoever it was.

“No, Tech. I can lose the payment for this one.”

“Logically, you can’t afford to lose any payments, not only does it support you, it repays Cid and the small amount of our debt you so selflessly offered to cover.”

“Tech,” Echo scowled slightly and tried to convey a silent message, which was not received.

“I was just stating the truth,” Tech replied.

“Not the best time,” Echo started, pushing you to step between them.

“He’s right though,” you started, holding out a hand to placate Echo before turning to Tech. “Maybe it’s something I can think about tomorrow, hmm?”

“Yes, I suppose that is acceptable,” Tech conceded with a quick nudge of his goggles. Hunter chose that moment to moan, his effort to hide it was caught by you and it hit you that he hadn’t been given his last dose.

“As lovely as it is for you all to visit, Hunter is still under observation and I need to give him some meds.” You winced as Wrecker clapped Hunter on the shoulder, making him gasp in shock from the pain.

“Oops. Did I break more ribs?”

“No. Not quite, Wrecker,” Hunter curled a hand around his side, leaning heavily on his wrist that was perched on his knee.

“See you soon Hunter,” Omega sadly waved as she followed Echo to the door. Wrecker went next and then Tech almost reluctantly followed.

“I need to find my droid,” you huffed. “Go back to bed, Hunter .”

“Yes ma’am!” He called after you.

Beetoo was standing in front of the sterilisation chamber, all her tools were inside but her photoreceptors were off. Tutting softly you wheeled her over to the charging port and pushed her in until it clicked. You were going to have to ask Tech to run a diagnostic, but it explained why she didn’t come to your aid.

You filled the vial and took it straight to the private room, leaning over your patient and giving him the shot in the neck like always. “You’ve definitely improved. I would like to see another scan before you go, just to be sure.”

“I can do that.” He watched you walk to the door where you made sure the sensors were on this time. “Are you sure you’re ok?” For a second you considered spilling everything, how the Rodian had made you feel, how it just brought back all your deepest and darkest—instead you plastered on that well versed smile.

“Yes I’m sure. I’m going to lock up, get some rest,” you ordered with a finger to emphasise your point.

Reaching the front door had your mind reeling. Part of you wondered what the Rodian was going to do with you and part of you really didn’t want to dwell. With shaking hands you locked the door and retreated with hurried footsteps back to your room. Walking backwards you climbed onto your bed, eyes fixed on the closed door as your heart quickened. No no no! Not now! Gathering your legs, you began to rock, squeezing your eyes shut but that just made your feelings worse.

The tightening started in your chest, restricting your breathing enough to make you drag a gasping breath in. Your com sounded and you nearly leapt off the bed in shock. It took a few attempts to grab it but finally you did and answered the call.

“Havoc medic, do you read me?” Tech. Tech went back to the ship and called you as soon as he got there. “I repeat, do you read me?” There was an edge of urgency to his tone and your face scrunched up as you tried not to cry.

“Tech…” the waver in your voice couldn’t be disguised.

“You sound distressed. Do I need to come back? Is Hunter ok?”

“Hunter—Hunter is fine.” You sniffed and rubbed the back of your hand over your cheek.

“But you are not.” It wasn’t a question and he couldn’t see you, but still you nodded dumbly at his words. “What can I do?”

“Just keep talking,” you whispered.

“That I can do. Any particular topic or would you like a briefing of todays events?”

“Today, what happened would be good.”

“Very well. It started in Cid’s parlour of course, she told us she needed something picking up…” closing your eyes you let out a shaky breath. His voice was calming, his descriptions so detailed it allowed you to zone out and detach, to tell your demons to go away and that they wouldn’t get the better of you.

You muffled the sobbing, hoping Tech didn’t notice, if he did he chose to ignore it; continuing on to tell you about the Mantell Mix incident. Eventually you laughed, a hiccuped giggle and he did pause at the sound. Laying down and wrapping yourself in a blanket you stared at the com, wishing you were brave enough to ask him to come back.

“And that is why Cid has a rather sizeable bill for Mantell Mix.”

“Can’t deprive Wrecker and Omega of that,” you said quietly, wiping at your face as you did and sniffing slightly.

“Well, she could. But I don’t think even Cid would want to face those consequences.” There was a silence, but you were used to them with Tech, sometimes he just needed to have a think before saying anything else.

“Thanks for this, Tech. I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight.”

“I felt compelled to make sure you were all right. I deduced you might not be. Turns out, I was correct.”

“I am better now, talking to you.”

“I had hoped it would be sufficient.” There was another pause where you realised you didn’t want to cut the call off just yet. “Was it sufficient?”

“Yes, Tech. It helped more than you know.”

“Good. It is late, you need some rest.” The panic threatened to claw its way free but you managed to keep it at bay.

“Yes, Goodnight Havoc-2.”

“Goodnight Havoc Medic.” The light died before your eyes and you reached for it, curling your fingers round the small device and feeling the edges biting into your skin. It was the closest you could get to Tech right now and you didn’t want to let it go.

The fire was so hot, it seared at your skin when you threw up your hands to try and protect your eyes. Part of the ceiling came loose, dropping to the floor and adding to the burning pile that used to be the Academy library. The wet cloth you’d tied around your face was barely working anymore, the smoke was curling and burning as it entered your lungs making you cough.

You knew there was a door nearby but you were disoriented, trying not to fall into the pit of blind panic as you felt your way along. Your eyes were closing against the thick smoke, your lungs bunching in your chest with every breath and you knew you had to get out.

You didn’t see the arms as they stretched through the haze but you did feel them. Scales that pinched your skin, their sharp edges cutting in to the softness of your lips. Long black claws dug into you, drawing blood and making it ooze slowly from the wounds. You tried to fight but they overpowered you, dragging you deeper into the smog filled place only to burst out of a door and fresh air cascaded over you.

The Trandoshan threw you to the ground where you sputtered and heaved air into your suffering body, lungs squeezing and vibrating as they struggled to cope. The grass was cool on your skin and you fingers curled in the stalks, crushing them in relief that you weren’t in the building anymore.

A flat reptilian foot kicked you over, disturbing your brief moment of sanctuary and drawing you back to your predicament. There was a group of them, long serrated teeth and glowing green and yellow eyes that stared hungrily at you.

“Thisssss her?” You recoiled from them, your eyes fixating on their long tongues as they licked their teeth.

“Yessss.”

“We got what we came for. Move out.” Their pleased guttural cries rang out into the darkness, a hand grabbed your throat and hauled you upright. On instinct you spat in his face, awarding yourself a slap across the face that split your lip and rattled your brain. “Ssssseems she needsssss some manners.” When you regained your vision all you could see was the Academy burning down. The only place you had belonged and stayed in for more than a few rotations. Bodies littered the ground, just humps in the dark but you knew what they were.

You screamed, you couldn’t help it. Sounding like a wounded animal as your brain began to shut down. You tried to stop seeing but it was too much, too overwhelming. You cried until your throat gave up, your tears stopped flowing and you barely had the energy to lift you head.

The Trandoshans let you have your melt down, sniggering and pointing as they dragged you along the ground. Your eyes began to close, the fire touching the stars was the last thing you saw.

Screaming…you could hear screaming. Desperately you tried to get your body to wake up, to move but it felt like you were covered in a sheet of thick durasteel. The noise grew louder, such a noise of pure anguish, you wanted to help them.

“Stitch!!” Was that…? Hunter? “Stitch! Wake up!” Your eyes snapped open and you launched up from the bed covers straight into Hunter’s solid body. He grunted and grit his teeth when you collided with him, your breath ragged as you realised you’d been the one screaming.

You sobbed into his shoulder, your entire body shaking and he gently encircled you with his arms. “You’re safe,” he murmured over and over again, stroking your hair as he soothed you. Quickly you managed to bring yourself back from the brink, refusing to fall into the yawning chasm in your soul.

“You can let go.” Immediately he released you, sliding down the bed so he wasn’t touching you but he wasn’t leaving you either. Your lips quivered, struggling not to draw back with the anguish that stalked you all day, everyday.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, choosing to stare at your hands as they shook in your lap. Get a grip, Needles. Ironic—that Cid’s voice was the one you used to shock yourself back to being…normal.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter murmured. “I couldn’t leave you.”

“No, I imagine I was pretty loud.”

“That’s not…”

“I know,” you reassured him. “I was trying to make a funny.” Glancing up you gave him a trembling smile and he gently shrugged one in return. “How are you feeling?” You forced yourself off the bed, grateful you had fallen asleep in your clothes last night.

“No temperature and the pain is, less.” Cocking an eyebrow you looked back at him.

“Are you just saying that so you can go back to the squad?” He didn’t give you an answer, twisting his mouth and looking to the side as he avoided your accusing glare. “It’s fine. I just need the scan and then you can go, someone should come and get you though. Tech or Echo, hell, even Omega so I can pass your meds on to a sensible person.” Hunter stood up, his presence large behind you but it wasn’t scary. Usually you hated people approaching you from behind but somewhere inside, you knew this man would never lay an unwanted hand on you.

“I’ll contact Echo.” You nodded, hearing him leave your room and only then did your shoulders slump. Face scrunching up as you fought a fresh wave of tears, pushing them away and breathing through the urge until it subsided. You needed to put the mask back on.

“The scans look good, you can go back but,” you locked eyes with Echo who visibly swallowed at the change in your tone. “If I find he’s been lifting things or being a hero, you will all face my medic wrath.” Lifting up a black box you handed it to Echo. “This holds his meds, the vials are all measured out exactly, he needs one in the morning and one in the evening. I will be checking.”

“Tech has already rigged up a reminder system in the ship,” Echo hastily told you. “Don’t worry, Hunter will be on light duties for the foreseeable.”

“I need you back here in a couple of weeks for another scan,” your voice softened as you addressed Hunter.

“Yes ma’am.” You noticed the amusement in his hazel rich eyes, the slight smile and it almost made him look younger in that moment, as though someone finally caring about him had shed years from the lines on his face.

“Go on, get out of here.” You turned your back on them letting Echo help Hunter into his gear.

“She sounds more like Cid everyday,” you heard Echo grumble and smirked to yourself.

Already the bays were full of people, most of them minor ailments that Beetoo could deal with while you updated your notes. You stripped Hunter’s bed, taking peace in doing it yourself rather than waiting for the droid. The rest of the day passed in a blur until, finally you flopped onto your bed and thankfully fell into a dreamless sleep.

#tech tuesday #tech #tech the bad batch #the bad batch #tbb tech #tech x reader(stitch)#tech x reader #tech x you

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whentommymetalfie · 1 year

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Home to you -chapter 40

-Organs-

Prologue//1//2//3/4/5/6/7/8/9/10/11/12/13/14/15/16/17/18/19/20/21/22/23/24/25/26/27/28/29/30/31/32/33/34/35/36/37/38/39

Pairing: Tommy/Alfie

Summary: Alfie has some new ideas on how to get Tommy to relax at night. And a missing family member makes an appearance.

Warnings: disordered eating, suicidal ideation, mental instability, hallucinations, ptsd, self harm, past force feeding

Content note: sexual content

Wordcount: 7,2K

“Still not tired, petal?” Alfie stops reading and looks down at him over the edge of his glasses, his face warmly lit by the lamp on the bedside table. Tommy hesitates for a moment before shaking his head. There’s never any use trying to hide something from Alfie. Alfie tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. “That’s alright. We’ll keep at it for a while then.” And he turns to the next page.

Burying his face back in the soft, familiar folds of Alfie’s shirt, Tommy holds the hot water bottle tighter to his chest and tries to will himself to relax. It shouldn’t be so hard. The house is quiet, but not like Arrow House, not the same echoing silence. It’s full of the creaks of old wooden floors and beams, waterpipes whistling quietly in the walls, and he can almost pretend they’re home, if he tries hard enough. But there’s a storm outside tonight, rain whipping against the windowpanes, howling around the corners, making the trees bend and their branches rustle. It’s as loud as his head. The wind is full of whispers.

Everyone else in the house is asleep. It took some time to get Charlie and Ruby to settle for the night, with the thunder that has come and gone, but now they’re sound asleep in Lizzie’s room. Everyone is asleep. Everyone is safe. And he should be tired. He’s always tired. Even when he sleeps, there’s hardly any respite, only dreams full of windowless cells, Michael grinning at him behind the bars until the room is engulfed in flames or fills with water that rushes into his mouth as he screams. The added fear of waking up in wet sheets again hasn’t made sleeping any easier. It hasn’t happened since that one time, but that doesn’t matter. Once is enough to make him dread it’ll happen again.

Alfie turns another page and starts a new chapter, and Tommy tries to focus on his voice, but a sudden bang jolts his entire body upright, held back only by Alfie’s arm tightening around his waist.

“Shh, shh, treacle, just a branch hitting the window, it’s nothing to be afraid of, eh?” Alfie reassures him, tucking him back against his side and kissing the top of his head before continuing to read as if nothing happened. He closes his eyes and tries to will himself to sleep, but he can barely hear Alfie over the wind and the rain and all the other voices, whispering but still so loud and even with his eyes closed he sees the white dress the smoke billowing underneath the closed door padded walls closing in, feels the sensation of fingers around his throat…

He needs to sleep. Alfie needs to sleep. That’s why he got angry, he’s not sleeping enough. It’s taken him some time to put the pieces together, everything is so blurry around him, but it’s as if he’s slowly remerging into the world around him, little by little. He’s clung so tightly to Alfie for safety and still it’s taken him so long to see that Alfie is tired. That’s why he got angry yesterday- it was yesterday, wasn’t it? Or was it earlier today? He hates the way everything is so fractured, the memories breaking apart and blending together. But Alfie got angry and yelled at him. It’s okay now, because Alfie told him that over and over again, it wasn’t his fault, and even when they tell him otherwise, Tommy knows he needs to listen to Alife.

Still, Alfie got angry because he’s tired, which means Alfie needs to sleep, and Alfie won’t sleep unless he thinks Tommy is asleep. Only, tonight it’s impossible. His body seems to buzz with nervous energy, and the weight on his chest feels more like icy river water with every second.

Tommy opens his eyes when Alfie goes quiet, and finds himself once again being watched over the glasses’ edge. Alfie’s hand is on his back, and he must feel the way his heart flutters like a trapped bird in there because he frowns and lays the book down on his chest.

“How about we try something different to relax a little, hm, treacle? Sometimes that’s better than just lying in bed for hours, tossing and turning.”

He should tell Alfie no, that it’s fine. Instead, he nods.

“Yeah? How about we take a bath? A nice hot one. That’s done you some good before. Then we can try sleeping again.”

Tommy sits and Alfie does the same, stretching his back and wincing, before swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Come along then, sweetheart, got a feeling you don’t want to stay out here on your own.”

Hand tangled in Alfie’s sleeve, Tommy follows him to the bathroom, leaving the others behind. Alfie sits him down on a stool he’s put in there and begins filling the tub. The water splashes as it hits the bottom of the tub, but soon turns to an even stream. He listens to it. If he does, he can’t quite hear the storm outside, or the voices within it.

“This is quite the science, right, getting the perfect temperature here,” Alfie says, holding a hand under the stream of water. “See, bath water can be treacherous because if you make it too cold, then it’s useless, right, no one wants to sit in tepid water, but contrary-“ Alfie moves to the medicine cabinet and begins shuffling through it, squinting at the bottles. “If it’s too hot, yeah, the first few minutes are grand and then you feel as if you’re being boiled alive. You’ve got to get it just right.” He settles for a dark blue bottle, unscrews the cork and holds it out for Tommy to smell. “Lavender, I think. Not that I claim to be an expert at botany, but that one’s easy enough. Supposedly very good for sleeping, I have on good authority from your sister. How about we give it a try?”

Tommy nods and earns a smile and a light pat on the cheek before Alfie pours some of the bottle’s content into the bath. Soon, the room is filled with scented steam, and the tub is full of what according to Alfie is perfectly tempered water. Alfie gets undressed and steps close to Tommy, helping him with the buttons on his shirt and pulling the garment from his shoulders as if he’s unwrapping tissue paper from a fragile piece of porcelain. Tommy keeps his eyes on his chest to avoid seeing Alfie’s gaze on him, but Alfie puts a finger under his chin and tilts his head up, kissing him softly, reminding him that his broken body doesn’t disgust him.

Alfie gets in the bath first and soon Tommy is settled between his knees, his back against his chest and head resting on his shoulder, and a trembling breath escapes him as the heat engulfs him. For just a moment as he allows himself to sink into the water, he’s worried the sensation will set something off, one of all the bad memories, but there’s nothing similar about this and the terrifying depths of the river, or the icy waves of the sea, nothing at all.

Alfie sighs and leans back against the edge of the tub, closing his eyes.

“Yeah, one thing can be said about your sister, right, and it’s that she’s got her priorities straight when it comes to bathtubs. A high quality one, this is. Properly sized as well.”

Alfie wraps his arms tightly around him.

Tommy settles into the embrace. There’s a window in the bathroom, and rain whips against it. His heart keeps pattering against his ribs, the bird desperate to escape. Maybe it’s the crow, maybe that’s where it’s gone to? He hasn’t seen it in so long. Alfie’s arms hold him tighter as he rocks him ever so slightly.

“Try to relax, love. Nothing to be afraid of here. I’ve got you. Not going anywhere.” Alfie’s hands wrap around his wrists and his thumbs rub gentle circles over the veins where his pulse continues to patter too quickly. “You’re safe. And I know you may not feel safe, which makes sense, after everything you’ve had to fucking endure. But you’ll just have to trust an old man and his infinite wisdom.”

Alfie moves his thumbs down over his hands, rubbing his palms, his too pronounced knuckles and bony fingers. Then back up, along his arms until he reaches his chest where the bird wings flutter. Alfie rubs circles there too, the heat of his palms seeping into his chest, easing the heavy feeling in there. Tommy listens to his breathing and follows, like he’s done so many times before. Alfie’s hands slip down over his ribs, his stomach, until they reach his thighs. He melts further and further into his embrace, turning his head to rest his forehead against Alfie’s neck. Alfie strokes along his thighs, gently moving over sparse muscle and sinew, pale skin bruised around the knees where the bones lie too close to the surface.

“Relax, love, I’ve got you,” he whispers and Tommy becomes aware of the tension in his legs, takes a slow breath and tries to imagine the warm water and Alfie’s touch melting it. “There we go, good boy,” Alfie mutters when his knees part and fall to the sides as he relaxes further. The hands move the inside of his thighs where the skin is thin and sensitive. At first it’s just the thumbs, right above his knees, but they soon trail upwards. Tommy closes his eyes and noses at the hollow of Alfie’s neck, a sigh escaping him. Alfie’s hands are high up between his legs now, thumbs rubbing into the tissue on his stomach right where his hipbones dip. A sudden burst of pain makes him hiss.

“You’re all tense here,” Alfie says and rubs a tiny bit harder. Tommy lets out a shaky breath. “Want me to stop?”

It takes some time before he understands the question and he shakes his head. There’s something soothing about Alfie’s broad thumbs slowly rubbing the tense muscles and breathing through the pain. He so often feels as if he’s floating outside of his body, disconnected from it, or that he’s trapped within it. Now, he just feels… held. Alfie buries his nose in his hair, placing kisses in the curls. Tommy reaches up and puts a hand on the back of his neck. Listens to the rain outside. It’s not quite as loud anymore.

After a while, even the crow stops trying to escape his ribcage and settles down as Alfie’s hands continue their ministrations. Something in his tense muscles gives and the pain is suddenly gone, making him let out a sigh in relief and leaving him all soft and pliant in Alfie’s arms.

“ ‘s that good, sweetheart?” Alfie cups the insides of his thighs and he can hear his own heartbeat in his ears, it’s all he can hear, finally, that and the way Alfie’s breathing has changed, growing deeper. He bows his head to reach Tommy’s lips with his own, and from there, the rest of the world fades around him, leaving only them, this. Tommy kisses him back, familiar heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. Alfie keeps the kiss soft at first, but when Tommy digs his fingers into his hair and pulls him closer, he slips his tongue into his mouth, hungry and demanding. It’s been so long since Alfie kissed him like this and it leaves him lightheaded and sends hot spikes of desire through him. Alfie’s hands are still on the insides of his thighs, rubbing in slow circles, and Tommy finds himself wanting those hands somewhere else. His hips buck almost by their own accord, a wave of pleasure shooting up his spine as his cock brushes against Alfie’s hand. Alfie’s hands still and Tommy becomes suddenly aware of himself, feeling a mortifying second of shame. But then he notices the hard, thick line of Alfie’s cock against the small of his back. He pushes back against him, making Alfie growl into his ear and take him into his palm. He doesn’t know how long he’s been hard but the second Alfie touches his cock it sets him on fire and he moans into Alfie’s neck as he begins to stroke him. Alfie’s other hand slides further in between his thighs, his fingers rubbing at a spot between his balls. His hips grind into him from behind. Tommy grabs his hand and pushes it further, until Alfie’s fingers graze his entrance. He feels dizzy with need, every thought gone except how much he wants, needs, Alfie to touch him, push into him, fill him up. How much he needs him to be closer.

“Don’t think you’re ready for that yet, petal,” Alfie rasps into his ear, but still rubs two fingers around the rim of his hole. Yes, yes, he is. He moans, squeezes the plea into Alfie’s hand and rubs himself against the fingers. A deep rumble rolls in Alfie’s chest and one finger slips inside, just barely. He moans again, hears it as a sound not coming from his own mouth and claws at the back of Alfie’s neck, clenching around the finger, hears Alfie mutter curses and nonsense about how they should be in bed, should use fucking lube, fine, fine, but just fingers then, insatiable little thing, and then Alfie pushes the finger in further, just one, not deep, but it burns as it stretches him out. Alfie kisses him again, breath is hot against his mouth and he moves the hand on his cock faster. The unfamiliar intrusion still has him reeling, and he arches his back. Sets his feet on the opposite edge of the tub to find some leverage as Alfie pushes deeper into him, making a string of broken noises spill from his mouth. The water around them splashes over the edge of the tub as they move together; Tommy caught between either of Alfie’s hands and Alfie rutting against him from behind. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt and he can’t stop clenching around Alfie’s finger, and as the burning feeling slowly fades he pushes into the touch, wanting more, of what he’s not sure, but he want’s, needs-

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, just wait, you’ll see,” Alfie mutters, and he rubs and strokes as if he’s searching, and suddenly brushes against something that makes Tommy’s vision go white with pleasure, and his body arch into a bow. Alfie lets out a dark chuckle. “Yeah, there we are, there we fucking are.”

With only one more push, Tommy finds himself hurtling over the edge, letting out a stifled moan that turns into a sob, and then another, and another as he first floats, completely weightless in hot, pulsating pleasure where the only sound is Alfie grunting as he finishes. Then he sinks and sinks until everything is warm, and dark, and blissfully quiet. In that quiet, he can finally rest.

Arms rock him slowly in the water. The first thing he hears is his own heartbeat, slowly calming. Then, a voice. “Tommy, sweetheart-“

The voice wants his attention but he’s tired now, already far under the surface.

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” And when he categorizes the voice first as Alfie’s, and then as ‘worried’ he forces his eyes open, just enough to glance up at him through his wet lashes. Alfie’s got that concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows. He clears his throat. “Hadn’t really planned on that. Suppose I got a bit caught up in the moment, eh? Did I hurt you?” Tommy shakes his head slowly and reaches up with a heavy limb to smooth the wrinkle out with his thumb. When he smiles at him, it disappears, and Alfie smiles too. It washes the weariness from his face. He’s very handsome. Possibly the most handsome man in the world, scars and all. And at that moment, Tommy feels so incredibly lucky to be right there in his arms.

“Think that you needed that, hm, love?” Alfie gently wipes something wet from his cheek and frowns slightly. “You’re shaking,” he then notes and squeezes him tightly. Tommy only lets out a breath in acknowledgement. It’s strange, because he feels warm, warm and tired and light and heavy at the same time. Alfie sits up a bit straighter. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Tommy is completely useless, can’t even maneuver himself out of the tub but Alfie is there with firm hands and steady arms. He sways a little as Alfie reaches for a towel, and closes his eyes as he dries him off and then changes the dressings on the various wounds, the ones he doesn’t want to think about right now when everything is finally quiet. Alfie chuckles a little when he leans forward to rest his forehead against his shoulder because his head is so heavy. “If you’re this out of it now, swooning after just some fingering, let me tell you, my cock will have you fucking blacking out.”

His face feels hot and he swats Alfie on the shoulder.

“Oh, nothing to be ashamed of at all, sweetheart, I think it’s lovely how responsive you are to my attentions.” Alfie’s voice is warm and happy and it makes Tommy feel so warm and light that he doesn’t know what to do, so he just wraps his arms tightly around his waist and buries his face in his chest. Alfie makes a surprised noise as the sudden hug squeezes some air from his lungs. Then, he returns the hug even tighter.

When Alfie gets him to bed, he’s half asleep already. It doesn’t matter that it’s storming outside, or that the silence in his head won’t last, because he’s out cold the moment Alfie tucks his head into the crook of his neck.

….

The storm has blown over the next morning. Tommy watches the lingering raindrops seep down the window as he sits in the kitchen with his breakfast in front of him. Alfie’s got that worried wrinkle between his eyebrows again, the one that’s always there when he’s watching Tommy try to eat, and he’s pacing the kitchen floor, only stopping ever so often to take a mouthful of tea from the cup balancing precariously close to the edge of the table.

Tommy tries to think of something nice, find distraction from the daunting task at hand, but the quiet in his head has gone and the voices are back to being too loud and too many and his thoughts are quick and fractured beyond recognition. It makes it hard to stay focused on just one, never mind something pleasant. He doesn’t have many of those to linger on. Thinking about last night just makes him blush, so that’s out of the question, no matter how pleasant it might’ve been.

He doesn’t understand why it’s so hard to eat, you have to eat Tommy, every time he swallows he feels the sensation of the tube being shoved down his throat, but he doesn’t understand why he can’t fucking get over it, forget it, we don’t want to do this, if you just eat on your own we wouldn’t have too- it was so long ago, and Alfie is never going to let that happen to him again

“He can’t make promises like that. You saw what happened last time.”

all Alfie asks in return is that he eats, and

“You can’t even do that, can you?”

Tommy looks at Alfie who finally stops pacing and takes a gulp of tea.

“You need to tell him if you want or need something,” the new voice says. It’s quiet, softer than the others, and most of the time too far away to hear. But what it says makes sense, even if it’s difficult, the most difficult thing in the world, reaching out, asking for something, even from Alfie, but he musters up the courage and pats the chair next to him. Alfie’s face softens and he goes to sit beside him. Tommy shuffles his chair closer until his leg touches Alfie’s and picks up the fork again. Focuses on the warmth of Alfie’s body next to his. Shuffles even closer, momentarily terrified that Alfie will snap at him, annoyed that he’s clinging to him all the time, which seems ridiculous after last night, but this is, this is different. Alfie wraps an arm around his waist.

“There we go. ‘s this what you need, treacle?” Alfie squeezes his waist and he tries to not think about the way his ribs protrude against his skin. Alfie likes touching him, he doesn’t care.

“Did you know there are many old, taxidermized animals that look nothing like they’re supposed to,” Alfie says suddenly, and he can tell this is going to be something longwinded, which makes the next bite easier to swallow. “Because the people who did the taxidermy had no idea what the animal was actually supposed to look like? Yeah. There’s this lion, for example, in a castle somewhere, fuck if I know where, that looks like, well, I couldn’t possibly fully convey how odd it looks, but you’ll just have to trust me. It’s all flat in the face, and it’s got… these huge, human looking teeth, because no one involved had ever seen a lion, right, they just got the hide and sort of filled it like a pillow. Quite fascinating, that, isn’t it? Or at the very least notable. Even if you couldn’t take a photo you’d think they’d at least have someone go in search of one and make a drawing, at least if it’s going to be displayed in a fucking castle. That’s some impressive fucking confidence right there…”

The familiar sound of Lizzie’s steps -long, determined ones, heels clicking- comes towards the kitchen and Alfie pauses as she enters, impeccably dressed and hair in a neat updo, not a strand out of place.

“Good morning,” she says with a faint smile and a nod in their direction before opening one of the cupboards in search of a teacup. Tommy shifts away from Alfie and sits up a bit straighter, hot in the face suddenly.

“Good morning Mrs. Shelby,” Alfie says just as easily. “Did you get any sleep with all the racket going on?”

Tommy chokes on a mouthful of tea and just barely manages to keep it from spraying all over the table, forcing it down his throat instead. Alfie means the storms, of course he means the storm.

“You alright, treacle?” Alfie frowns and he nods quickly, the heat on his cheeks spreading all over and dripping down the back of his neck and he stares down at the plate, tries not to imagine Lizzie hearing him last night. He wasn’t that loud, was he?

“You made sounds that would make even a whore blush,” Grace sneers. “Is that what you are now, Tommy? Suppose you don’t have much else to offer.”

“Well, once we’d read ‘Old mother west wind’ about ten times, we all fell asleep,” Lizzie says lightly and he glances up. Lizzie has found a teacup and is pouring tea from the pot, looking at ease. She looks completely normal, doesn’t she, not like she’s, not- Tommy picks up the fork and skewers another apple piece on it to keep anyone from noticing that he’s spiralling. The moment you woke up and fell straight into his arms I knew you weren’t mine to keep, isn’t that what she said, she told him to go with Alfie. Still, this is different, the thought that she knows somehow- But why would she? It doesn’t show on his face, does it?

Grace scoffs. “Of course she knows he’s fucking you.”

“What else would she imagine you two doing in the bedroom?” John grins from where he’s sitting on the counter, blood pooling at his feet. “Obviously she realises he does more than read you fucking bedtime stories.”

“You might as well let him take you bent over the table, right here in front of her.”

Bile rises suddenly in his throat and he swallows it down. He keeps his gaze lowered, feeling hot and cold all over suddenly. It comes over him in waves.

“Did you get any sleep?” Lizzie asks far away and he tries to claw himself above the surface again-

“Yeah, well, took some time to get settled. Tommy, you sure you’re okay? You’re white as a fucking sheet.”

Tommy can feel their concerned eyes on him but he can’t look up, or they’ll see the shame on his face. He’s overreacting, this is all in his head, there’s no need to get all fucking worked up-

Suddenly, a red ball comes bouncing across the floor, and along with it, a large flurry of fur and heavy paws, skidding across the floor, slamming into the table and tipping the teapot onto its side. Charlie and Ruby follow close behind, both shrieking and laughing. His heart jumps into his throat at the sudden burst of noise and movement, he flinches and drops his teacup onto the floor where it shatters into a thousand pieces. Everything around him keeps moving, all at once.

“Ruby, Charlie, not in the house!” Lizzie calls and hurries over before they can come any closer to the broken pieces.

“Cyril!” Alfie barks and the dog stops in its tracks as he shoots out of his chair, takes Cyril by the collar and tugs him out of reach of both the red ball and the shards. “Go on, out in the garden, none of that-“

He disappears from the kitchen with Cyril in a firm hold and Tommy only now realises he’s reaching for nothing but thin air. He breathes in sharp hiccups, tries desperately to regain his footing, it’s fine, nothing happened, nothing happened, but cold sweat is seeping down the back of his neck, his vision blurring, making the shards on the floor dissolve at the edges. He wrings his hands together in his lap, can feel that he’s shaking but can’t control it. Around him, the voices come through that familiar filter of a growing ringing in his ears.

“But we were playing!”

“Not inside, Ruby. Playing fetch is an outside game. No, no, move away from there-“

“We’re sorry.”

“It’s okay, I know was an accident, but you have to be more careful. Why don’t you go out to Cyril?”

Tommy stares at the floor. It’s his fault there are sharp, broken pieces everywhere. He gets off the chair on unsteady legs and sinks to his knees, begins picking up the shards, one by one, tries to count them to calm his racing heart, one two three-

“No, Tommy, don’t touch that, I’ll take care of it,” Lizzie says softly and crouches before him, four five six-

“We’re really sorry,” Charlie says and Tommy looks up, swallows, and he tries so hard to say the same thing as Lizzie, it’s okay, it was an accident, but he can’t make a sound so he tries to smile instead but his face feels numb and Charlie furrows his brow a little.

“Don’t be sad,” he says. Ruby watches him too, biting the nail on her thumb. Grace tilts her head, standing so close suddenly, right behind them.

“You’re scaring them,” she says and that mocking sneer that he’s grown so used to twists her lips. “Just look at you. You should be locked up. They should’ve left you in that cell where you can’t do this kind of damage.”

The pieces of the teacup smatter to the floor as he drops them. He lowers his gaze and feels the all too familiar heat rise behind his eyes. He blinks quickly and focuses on the tiny shards on the floor, once again picking them up one by one with trembling fingers, one two three four five- Lizzie moves, stands between him and the kids, gently rubbing Charlie’s shoulder.

“Charlie, it’s okay, loud noises can be sort of scary, can’t they? It’s just like the thunder.”

“We didn’t mean to scare you, dad,” Charlie says and Tommy bites the inside of his cheek, wants the floor to open up beneath him and swallow him whole. His hands shake so hard that he drops the shards again. Lizzie ushers the kids towards the door.

“He knows that, come on, let’s go find Cyril.”

“But-“

“Daddy will be okay.”

Lizzie herds the kids out of the kitchen as Alfie’s feet reappear in his field of vision.

“Is daddy never going to talk again, ever?”

“We don’t know that, love-”

The moment they’re gone Tommy folds forward and gasps for breaths, grabs onto his arms and squeezes his eyes shut, gulping around the air as he struggles to get it down past the mud the water filling in his throat as everything blurs around him the edges of his vision darkening and he digs his nails into his arms wants to take the shards and

carve himself open anything to make all of this stop he’s so

fucking pathetic

Then Alfie is there, appears by his side, firmly pulls him up and away from the shards, sitting down on a chair and settling him down onto his lap -let me get a look at that sweetheart, no scratches eh? No? Good, that’s good, no harm done- hugs him as he fights to draw more wheezing lungfuls of air down his chest, throaty whines escaping between his teeth with each exhale. He clings to Alfie for safety, fingers clenched into his shirt. Alfie rubs his back.

“There we go, shh, it’s okay,” he mutters into his hair. “Kids and dogs in the same household eh, can get a bit overwhelming for anyone.”

No, not for anyone.

Alfie cradles his head against his chest, covering the scar and muffling the whining noises. Tommy curls into the warmth.

When Lizzie returns, he can’t move, remaining curled up on Alfie’s lap. She folds her arms over her chest and watches him with sad eyes.

“They’re outside playing,” she says softly “It’s okay. They know you’re not upset with them.”

Alfie squeezes him. “Yeah? Hear that? No one’s upset. ‘s all good.”

“And Ruby has asked about that before,” Lizzie says. “About you not talking. I’ve tried to explain, but she’s too little to understand. And I suppose you don’t fully understand it yourself.” She sighs, and when she speaks again, he can hear it’s not to him anymore. “I’m taking the kids to the stables, and Ada’s… she’s out somewhere. Will you be okay by yourself? Esther and Frances are doing some shopping but they should be back soon.”

“Sure, sure, it’ll be fine. Might go for a walk. How ‘bout that, Tommy? After we’ve had some rest.”

“I can clean up here. Think there’s a broom somewhere-“

“I’ll take care of it. Go to the kids, eh?”

Lizzie disappears from the kitchen. Alone again, he hides his face completely in Alfie’s shirt and deflates. Ruby’s question keeps replaying in his mind.

Is daddy never going to talk again, ever?

How could he ever tell them?

He had so few words for so long that they were easily lost, and now he doesn’t know how to find them again. And perhaps it would be better if he never did. It’s already so difficult, seeing someone react to him in any way, to something he does, or doesn’t do, so difficult to accept that he leaves an imprint on the ever-expanding world around him when all he ever does is ruin it. Better then to stay quiet, stay unnoticed, out of people’s way.

“You may have forgotten, Tommy, but I haven’t,” Grace says. “There are still moments when you wish you’d have joined me. You would’ve spared them all this.”

He’d forgotten, for a short moment, it’s so easy to do with Alfie, forget how broken he is. But then he sees his children, anyone else, and it becomes painfully clear they’re all part of a world he doesn’t have access to anymore, one he doesn’t know how to exist in. One where there isn’t a place for him.

“That’s why they locked you away.”

Alfie’s fingers trail down his temple, soothing the phantom pain there,

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “You’ll talk when you’re ready. And I talk enough for the both of us, so there’s no pressure where that bit is concerned.”

Alfie holds him tighter, reminds him that he’s not floating in the dark river.

…

It takes so little to completely knock him down. He’s exhausted after what happened in the kitchen, being pulled underneath the surface and clawing his way up again always leaves him completely drained and disconnected from his surroundings. But Alfie knows. Alfie takes care of him. Alfie takes him to Ada’s library to pick out a book. Or rather, approve of what he picks out. Got impeccable taste, don’t I love? I know you trust my judgement. And then to the living room where the sun is shining and Esther has left a pot of tea, which means she must be back now. There, he tucks Tommy in under a blanket with the hot water bottle.

That afternoon, he’s still dozing off with his head on Alfie’s lap when the voices wake him. They come from far away, he only hears them as mutters through the house, through the open door to the living room. He closes his eyes again, they’re not real, and you shouldn’t listen to them, but the voices seem to come closer and he grabs onto Alfie’s sleeve. A hard expression settles on Alfie’s face. Alfie notices them too, which means they must be real.

“Stay here,” he says, and moves quickly across the room, closing the door as he leaves. It happens so fast and suddenly he’s alone. Tommy curls into the corner of the sofa and listens carefully as Alfie’s voice joins the others, but can only hear bits and pieces. The voices come closer, stopping right outside the door.

“Solomons, he knows he needs to be careful,” Ada’s voice says.

“Right, right, because this fucking family’s got such a great track record with that. Seems like every time one of you show up things go south. And we really don’t need any more upsets today. Already had a rough start.”

“Please, I just want to see him.” Tommy recognizes the voice but his head is working so slowly piecing things together.

“You on something?” Alfie asks. “Because it sure as fuck looks like it.”

Ada’s voice goes sharp and angry. “I wouldn’t have fucking brought him if-“

“You drunk, then?”

“Fucking hell, Solomons!”

“Of course not!” it says, the voice he knows, he knows it so well but why can’t he remember? Tommy climbs off the sofa but ends up frozen on the spot, unable to approach the door.

“Looks like it. Smells like it too. But perhaps you’ve just reached that stage where your bloody skin begins to smell like whiskey. “

“Enough of this, this is my house, and if-“

Ada is cut off, the door opens and Finn is standing on the threshold.

His younger brother stares at him as if he’s seen a ghost, rigid and still. Then he crosses the room in three long strides and pulls Tommy into a tight embrace. Tommy’s head barely comes up to his shoulder but Finn ducks his head and hunches over as if he could make himself small again and Tommy wraps his arms around him, as best as he can now when he’s suddenly so grown. Finn squeezes him tightly, and he lets him. Then he lets Finn hold on for as long as he likes. For once it feels like that’s enough.

When Finn eventually pulls out of the hug, he takes Tommy by the shoulders and looks him up and down with a wide grin on his face that doesn’t waver, even if Tommy knows what a pitiful sight he makes. Finn clears his throat and turns away quickly, wiping at his eyes.

“ ‘s good to see you, Tom,” he says, voice thick. “I thought, well, we all thought… Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay.” He glances in Ada’s direction. “Ada’s told me everything. In the car on the way here. I’m- I’m sorry you had to go through all that. And I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

He squeezes Tommy’s shoulders, his hands so large they cover them entirely. Tommy looks him over, mostly to have an excuse to break eye contact. He’s in an obviously new suit and freshly shaved, but his hair is a bit too long and there are bloody streaks in the corners of his eyes. The dark circles under them makes his insides clench. But his smile is real and unwavering and without questions and it loosens the knot in his stomach slightly.

“Yeah, would you look at that, bet you barely recognize me,” Finn says. “Almost looks like I’m your big brother now, eh? But don’t worry, I’m taller than Arthur too. Even if it’s just by an inch or so. But you’ve always been tiny.”

And he’s got the audacity to ruffle Tommy’s hair. Letting out an indignant huff, Tommy brushes away the hair away from his eyes. It’s getting unruly, those long bits. He only notices it now.

Finn is still smiling, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. As always he looks to Alfie for help. Alfie is stood by the doorway next to Ada, watching him with soft eyes, and comes instantly to his aid, moving to his side and reaching out to shake Finn’s hand.

“We didn’t do much of a proper introduction, did we?” he says. Finn accepts the hand and Alfie shakes it. “Alfie Solomons.”

“I know, Sir. You’re Tommy’s… friend,” Finn says. “Ada told me.”

“Sure, sure. And a very good friend, at that,” Alfie says, still holding firmly onto Finns’ hand, eyes boring into his. “So I’m sure you can see why I have his best interest in mind, and might be a bit dubious of any and all people who may or may not cause him some sort of distress.”

A bright shade of red spreads up Finn’s neck. “Of course, Sir. And I’m- I’m happy you’ve been looking out for him.”

Alfie grunts and keeps staring at Finn until he’s virtually squirming in his spot. Tommy moves an inch closer and brushes his hand against Alfie’s. Alfie looks at him. The hard expression melts from his face and he pats Finn’s shoulder.

“Well, pleased to meet yet another one of Tommy’s illustrious siblings. Must say you’ve got more manners than your older brother. Perhaps you could give dear old Arthur some tips.”

Finn lets out a relieved laugh and Ada pipes up from the doorway, “Would you like to stay for dinner, Finn?”

“Sure, sure, if that would be alright?” Finn says, looking to Alfie as if waiting for approval. Alfie in turn looks to Tommy, and he nods, even if his heart sinks in his chest.

“Great,” Ada says, clearly picking up on the exchange. “I’ll let Frances know,”

Finn suddenly pulls Tommy into another hug, and this time it’s as if he remembers his size because he stands tall and pulls him into his chest, arms around his neck to tuck his head in there. Tommy feels strangely small. But perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.

…

Tommy stays in his and Alfie’s room during dinner, because he can’t bear all of them watching him, can’t let Finn see how difficult it is for him to eat. He knows it must seem strange to Finn, that he’s probably asking questions that Lizzie and Ada struggle to answer, but the mere thought of sitting through an entire meal with anyone but Alfie is unbearable. So this is just how it’ll have to be. Alfie understands, of course, without Tommy having to say a word. But later that evening, when Arthur has shown up and announced it to the whole house, and the kids have been put to bed, Tommy finds himself in the living room with the others, one of his hands firmly attached to Alfie’s sleeve and the other holding onto the hot water bottle. He’d forgotten how loud his family could be. Their voices quickly blend together and he can’t keep track of the conversation, it moves too fast and there are too many people talking. It’s strange to realise it, that he can’t even follow a normal conversation. Alfie notices. Leans in and asks so quietly no one else can hear if he wants to go upstairs, but he still wants to stay. Pretend to be a part of it. Though it quickly makes him tired, makes him sink deeper into the cushions.

He’s just going to rest his eyes for a little bit…

At least with so much noise, there isn’t much room for the noise in his head.

When he wakes, someone has put a blanket over him, and he’s curled up on his side, one of the pillows tucked under his head. His eyelids are still too heavy to open.

“He seems to sleep a lot,” a voice says, Finn, he thinks.

“Yeah, well, he doesn’t sleep great during the night,” Alfie says. “But it’s also exhausting for him, I reckon, just being awake and keeping track of things. Get through the fucking day. Usually naps a few times even on a good day.”

“And today’s not?”

Alfie falls uncharacteristically silent, so Lizzie answers, “Since the fire there haven’t been many of those. Well, since the asylum, I suppose.”

“Thought we might lose him,” Ada says softly. “Those first days. That he might be too far gone.”

“Well, he’s up and about now, no need to dwell on that,” Arthur says. “Things are looking up!”

They all shush him, and a warm palm covers Tommy’s ear. He shifts into the touch.

“Shh, you’re okay,” Alfie whispers and runs his fingers through his hair. “You’re safe.” The gentle touch lulls him slowly back to sleep, but he’s awake enough to feel it when Alfie scoops him up into his arms. “Right, I’m going to put him to bed now. See if I can get him to keep sleeping.”

“You sure you should be carrying him up all those stairs?” Arthur says. “Been doing an awful lot of limping. I can do it.”

“Sod off. You’re lucky both my arms are otherwise occupied, Shelby,” Alfie grunts. “Good-fucking-night.”

The voices all say something and then he’s floating, weightless, head on Alfie’s shoulder. Perhaps he should let him know he’s awake -he is awake, isn’t he?- but he loves being carried by Alfie. Loves listening to his heartbeat and feel that here, there’s nothing that can hurt him, that he’s safe. That there’s at least one place where he belongs.

#tommy x alfie #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #peaky blinders fanfiction #home to you #breathe again verse #mess

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askrockandfriends · 2 years

Text

Danganronpa RP: Chapter 1 Deadly Life

A body has been discovered! Investigating the video room, the body of Kazuma Kiryu is found, appearing to have been beaten and battered in a fight. Upon investigation, the students discover a number of Truth Bullets:

1. Kiryu's Autopsy: The victim is Kazuma Kiryu, the Ultimate Yakuza. The victim suffered multiple blows to the head and body and suffered heavy blood loss and numerous bone fractures as a result. Poison was not involved in victim's death. Death was around 11:38 PM.

2. Evidence of a struggle: The video room suffered heavy damage in the apparent fight between Kiryu and the victim. The walls are cracked and dented all over and broken monitors littered the floor. Strangely, aside from the area around Kiryu's body, no blood has been found on the walls.

3. Guantlets: A pair of gauntlets looking like they belong to Yang Xiao Long that was found at the crime scene. They can be used for both punching and firing off Dust explosions, and have a smear of blood running through them. However, no traces of Dust were found on the walls of the room.

4. Hammer: A hammer that was found at the crime scene. Curiously, it has no blood on it.

5. Pipe: A bent pipe that was found at the crime scene. It has traces of blood on it.

6. Batman's Account: He and Kiryu made a pact to prevent any murders from happening, and thus have vowed to watch over the students.

7. Wario's Account: Kiryu is a tough cookie, so even the strongest fighters here would have a hard time going against him in a physical confrontation. Just ask Wario!

Homer's Account: Homer was having a midnight snack in the cafeteria when he saw a terrifying figure going back and forth outside. Though the lighting in the hallway is admittedly pretty bad, so Homer couldn't get a good look at them.

Captain Falcon's Account: Captain Falcon was training with Yang and Deku until well after midnight. A half hour before, he heard what appeared to be a crashing sound coming from outside, but didn't see anything suspicious.

Used Gauze: Some used-up gauze in the nurse's office.

Brock's Account: Brock was in the nurse's office early that morning and was the first to notice the used gauze. He didn't see anyone come in, though.

Live Feed: Camera footage recovered from the video room showing... all the rooms?

Are you ready for the class trial? Then...

CLASS TRIAL - ALL RISE!

#open rp #danganronpa rp #danganronpa

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dearestones · 1 year

Note

For the writing ask, 8, 28, & 38 please! :) Hope ur having a great day <33

Hey, Devin here!

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

Oh my gosh, what a delightful question! Let's see...

I think it really depends on what characters I'm using and the scenario that I'm using them in! You see, I can write paragraphs upon paragraphs of scenery, building up to the characters interacting, and I can focus on their actions regarding each other. For me, when characterizing characters, it's not just the dialogue that is a part of them, but also their actions.

Do they twirl their hair when they're bored? Play with the uneven edges of old tables? Tap their feet against the legs of their chair?

On the other hand, I absolutely adore dialogue. With the right identifiers, pauses, and context given through words alone, you can convey what a character is doing, feeling, and how they are effecting their environment, others, and even themselves.

I don't know, you can take these elements by themselves and depending on your execution, can come up with extremely good pieces of fiction if need be.

Of course, if you say entire story... do you mean novel length or one-shot, drabble fic style? For my purposes, I can write a fic that is solely based on the descriptions of characters' actions for maybe... 1-2k words. Perhaps? As for dialogue heavy stuff, since we're focusing mostly on dialogue, maybe a little less or more than 1k.

I don't know, I think it would be an interesting challenge hehehe.

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

Don't ask me this question! Hehehe!

Let's see....

In the past, it definitely would have been AE-3803 and U-2001 from Cells at Work, Veneziano (North Italy) from Hetalia, and Alastor from Hazbin Hotel.

As of recent memory, that honor belongs to Hacker from Akudama Drive, Tim Wright from Marble Hornets, and Jade Leech from Twisted Wonderland!

(I know, I'm cheating, but bear with me).

Let's break it down!

AE-3803:

She's so cute! Oh my gosh, she's wonderful, resilient, and she is a great foil to U-1146! I went into so many analysis posts between her and U-1146 on my main blog (especially back in 2020-2021) when I was writing my magnum opus of the time, the Abnormalities!verse. I won't get into too many spoilers, but my gosh, I took so many of the characteristics that are canon to her, and then I made her go through it. (What is it, you may ask? Well, I put her through the ringer and she is traumatized). She is delightful in the way that you know at the end of the day, you know she'll get back on her feet no matter how bruised and aching she may be. She'll rise above her traumas and look her tormentors in the eye with both compassion and understanding. But through it all, she will harden her resolve, her weak cell structure turning to steel. She is my baby and she has gone through so much! ;; That isn't to say she isn't wonderful in canon. She is. She serves as one of the more lighthearted aspects of the series and she is a wonderful companion to have when time gets tough, especially in the later chapters.

U-2001:

He's an old man! There's next to nothing about him in canon, but I always headcanon him to be such an old man who loves watching from the sidelines! He doesn't say much, but when he does, you can guarantee that he will be a deadpan snarker and will surprise you with either the world's greatest advice or the dirtiest joke imaginable and you will have to deal with that reality because no one will ever believe you. He is the blorbo that no one else wanted and I adopted way back in 2018. For the real ones who followed from my main blog and used to be bombarded by CAW (mah booiiiii!!!!)

Veneziano:

He's an old man with tons of issues buried underneath a concerningly fractured and thin veneer of clumsiness and ineptitude! I won't say more, but my gosh, I made an entire anthology series for him on ffnet and I participated in a week long event based on prompts which you can view on my main tumblr and on my ao3. Long story short, he is someone who you know has layers upon layers of trauma and personality underneath, but the thing you'll notice upon meeting him is that his smile is radiant, one that draws you in. It isn't until you take a step back that you realize that it's empty and quite sad.

Alastor:

He's a radio demon! It's been a while, but someone once requested to have a deaf! reader x Alastor one shot way back when... and let me tell you... The process behind that fic was something else. Just... I don't know what to say. The zaniness behind his radio personality and the evil that lurks behind his ever present smile? That stuck with me while writing him.

Hacker:

He's a maverick in a world filled with other mavericks! In my fics, I always think him more of the cycnical, younger brother archetypes. It's such a shame that Akudama Drive was short as it was, but from what little of what I've seen of Hacker, he is such a neat charaacter??? I love him so much. His snark, deadpan delivery at times, and snark was a definite bonus when viewing the anime for the first time. Furthermore, his relationship with the main character was also great? They were such an iconic sibling duo who I would die for because the feels! All of the feels! Not only that, but his character plays off the other zany and almost nonsensical rules and other players in the anime. Back when a lot of people used to request me for Akudama Drive, interactions besides x readers were in high demand and seeing some of the weirdest combinations for interactions were the highlight of my day. Seeing him play off with other character archetypes was always a joy to me because he could range from disgruntled, tsundere little brother to someone who can be gigantic thorn in someone's side because he's a little shit who knows too much.

Tim Wright:

He is a man who I can project my fears and mental issues on. That's it. Okay, I kid, but there are so many other people who can write an analysis on him and be loads better than what I can say. What I will admit, however, is that he showed me that life is possible even after years of trauma and repression. That it is worth keeping moving forward, to seek help when possible, and to face the past in order to ultimately heal. In one of my fics, I had to put myself in his shoes and when I did... I just felt simultaneously bittersweet and sad, but at the same time, determined to move forward--to be compassionate and kind.

Jade Leech:

He is the eely perfect character. Nothing else should be said. Hahahah! I'm not sure how obvious it is, but I love Octavinelle as a whole. The aesthetic, the non-human characteristics, the strange things they say or do that denotes them as merfolk and therefore other than humans... It's all there! I could have easily said the same for Azul and Floyd, but with Jade, there's also the underlying philosophy of how the sea works underneath his veneer of a gentleman. He's somewhat cold and calculative, like a scientist who doesn't have the moral or ethical wherewithal to stop experimentaing, hahah! Yet, at the same time, he isn't cruel or needlessly malicious, he's bored and just wants to have fun. He tickles my brain just right and writing his internal observations and what he takes note of is what really gets me.

Have you figured out what are my favorite aspects are when writing characters? ;D

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

I... I don't have a writing process?

I know there are lots of people who say that you have to use outlines or write blurbs or jump back and forth in the timeline, but like...? I don't?

I usually just write as a train of thought and then it happens to turn into a story. Of course, there's the proofreading part, but that usually occurs after I let the fic simmer for a day or two before posting.

Also, I downloaded this extension where everything I type makes a typewriter sound.

It's awesome and it helps me focus.

And the inclusion of listening to the same song on repeat is also a great addition to the writing process.

Thanks for the questions and I hope that you have a wonderful day! :D

Feel free to ask more! :D

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chop-chop-slide · 2 years

Note

15, 18, & 38 for the fic meme (love u btw)

Omg you are way to kind ily ❤️

15. If you could choose one of your fics to be filmed, which would you choose?

There is only really one option here ;) even if we're counting my fics on old accounts, then it's still the same answer. Having the Spectre!verse series being a show or movie would be so cool :o

Though a future fic I'm planning would probably fit the bill more, since I want to format it in the style of a typical slasher movie! <.<

18. Do you use any tools, like worksheets or outlines?

My main writing tool is Google Docs, for Fracture I have a massive document detailing character GMC, chapter by chapter outline, overall story outline and timeline of beats/scenes. I however need to go back and edit this document as Fracture has deviated A LOT from the initial plan (damn blorbos taking over the show and running!).

At the very beginning I used the Scene & Sequel pattern for every chapter: Scene (Goal, Conflict, Disaster) -> Sequel (Reaction, Dilemma, Decision).

However recently I've been just doing loose bullet points of beats and hoping for the best, not sure which method works best for me yet...

38. Talk about a review that made your day.

It's so difficult to pick one example, every single review I get makes my heart so happy :,) the feeling from the ongoing support from regular readers is unmatched!!!

One review that made my day was a reader confessing that after chapter 7 of Fracture, that they were inspired to make a lasagne after Danny and Dwight cooked one together. Idky but I was so touched by the idea of someone being so inspired by my fic they made a homemade meal because of it! <3

#ask meme #ty for the asks!!!!

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lovepmd · 1 year

Text

if i'm almost at 40 chapters, does that mean i'm allowed to do a random 2 or 3 month time skip for no real reason? no? ok

#text #chaos au #pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon

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evienyx · 9 months

Note

Ive read part of fractures before but just reread it/caught up (to chapter 38) and oh my god absolutely life changing. The idea of the avatar spirit being corrupted is REALLY interesting also irohs memories being taken/messed with oh my GOD. I have already opened a new ao3 tab with the intent to read more of your stuff sorry if thats weird to say. I just am absolutely in love with your writing style and the way the plot is seemingly going. Also youre so brave for writing about nuanced situations we all know tumblr/fandom tends to handle those poorly. When i read the author note mentioning your high school graduation it was like a slap to the face you have no business being such a good writer at that age (in the most complimentary way possible) (also im only 19 so). This is getting long and rambly i just need you to know i lovelovelove your work also sorry this is an ask and not an ao3 comment the ao3 comment interface bothers me for some reason

I mean, to be fair, I turn nineteen in like four days, so. That's something.

#ask #ask away #whoa another evie birthday incoming #look out im about to age out of 18 into the incredibly different and much cooler 19 #i swear im working on fractures right now i promise

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romanoffsbish · 3 years

Text

Chapter 38: Another one Bites the Dust

Chapter 37 | Masterlist | Chapter 39 | Words: 908

Nat’s POV

He did it...

He snapped his fingers, and now he's gone...

Simply disappeared into a cloudy mist like the coward he is.

"Natty." I hear Y/N whimper, then I look up to see her sullen expression.

"Moya lyubov', what's wrong?" I ask, as if the world as we know it isn't coming crashing down around us.

"I-I don't feel so good..." She whimpers, as she inadvertently falls into Wanda, then both of them hit the ground.

"Y/N/N.. What's ... oh my gosh.." Wanda starts to freak out, as I see tears freely flowing down her cheeks, so I follow her eye line to Y/N's lower half.

She's disappearing..

"Oh God.. Y/N... Moya krasivaya milaya devochka... I love you so much... I promise you that I'll fix this, I won't rest until I do..." I cry out, while placing my pinky in front of her face.

(My sweet, beautiful girl...)

"You'll be okay Natty.. You too Wands.." She whimpers out, as she cups my cheek with her left hand, wiping away at the tears, as she links her left pinky with mine, and seals it with a kiss as her comforting hands dust away.

I immediately lean down to kiss her perfect lips, pressing mine firmly to hers as I pray to whoever's listening that this isn't going to be the last time, while my tears uncontrollably fall upon her fading face.

"Natasha!" I hear Yelena shout with a trembling voice, as I somehow muster up the strength to face my sister, not entirely sure how she's going to handle the loss, my heart shatters further.

She's disappearing...

I sprint towards her, as she is slowly stumbling towards me.

"Yelena.. No.. Not you too.. Please." I plead, as I fall to my knees with her fading form.

"Moya dragotsennaya sestra... I'm sorry... So fucking sorry.. I'm going to fix this." I shakily get out, while my body wracks with sobs, and I place my forehead to hers, doing my best ti comfort her as she fades away...

(My precious sister.)

I look up to see Wanda's equally trembling form, as the dust below her floats around, noting that it clearly belongs to Vision.

He's disappeared...

I scramble backwards until my backs pressed to a tree, clutching at my stomach as I fight off the bile from rising. The world in front of me is a wasteland of ash, not entirely sure which one of my friends it is that's floating in front of me. I close my eyes, squeezing them as tight as I can, hoping that this is just a vivid nightmare. I'm going to wake up, as Y/N lightly shakes me, and she'll rub my back and kiss my face until I'm okay again...

Wanda's absolutely wailing, the sounds of her thrashing her body violently confirms this isn't a false reality. I can't bring my body to move to help her, I'm shutting down, and I don't know if I can fight it...

My phone starts to ring, I'd ignore it, but the ringtone brings me out of my daze—Clint.

"Natasha! What's happening??? One second we're all barbecuing, then I blink and I'm surrounded by dust!" He shouts into the phone, and my obliterated heart, somehow still has enough pieces left to shatter.

They've disappeared...

"Are you going to answer? Natasha?? Hello?"

"We lost." The only two words I can muster up, before my body violently shakes with sobs... In the span of ninety seconds I've nearly lost everything.

My family's fractured, what I have left with me is broken, none of us will ever recover from these losses.

"She's gone too, isn't she?" He quietly whispers as he comes to the realization, clearly hearing the despair in my sobs, all I do is sob harder, then the line cuts out.

Wanda's currently screaming, her words are muffled, but I can feel the rage bouncing off of her. I look up to see her punching into Steve's chest repeatedly. His gaze drifts to me, as if he's looking for help. Then something inside of me just breaks, the utter feeling of numbness fuels my unbridled rage.

I march over, hearing the shouting more clearly as I do.

"You're a fucking idiot! Sam said a 'Y/N' situation and you were worried about Vision."

"Oh, forgive me for wanting to keep the stone out of their hands!"

"Well guess what dipshit, they already had the stone when you said that! Had you done a proper job of finding Y/N, we could've won!"

"Oh yeah? How so? What was she going to do? Go invisible?"

As soon as he says that, I'm on top of him, punching him over and over, no plan to stop in sight.

"Natasha!! Stop!! This is the worst time for us all to turn on each other!!" Rhodey shouts, as he pulls my overextended body off of the unconscious Captain's.

"We were never on the same team. He's always had his personal agendas, and they've never aligned with mine." I spit out at the Colonel, as I thrash around in warning for him to let me go.

Once my feet are back on the ground, I'm gone, headed towards the quinjet, with Wanda in tow as I drag her along with me.

"We'll get them back." I firmly state, as I lift the jet off the ground, then take us back to the compound...

—————————-

Taglist

@simpforflorencepugh1 @ali-lie @julesreality

As we move into Endgame, I'm wondering what y'all want...

Poll:

Who should I send to Vormir?

Comment your recommendations.

I'm open to just about anyone, just not Wanda, or Natasha together aka neither are killable for me in this story lol.

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123moiaussi · 3 years

Text

✨Community Citation and Resource Thread✨

Hey guys, this is my citations list. It’s a little rough (some different styes of citations) and a fracture of the helpful texts I’ve come across but it’s a place to start :) This one contains journal articles, speeches, research, pamphlets and studies (amongst other things) that focus race, identity, discrimination, colonization, black consciousness movements, political theory and political philosophy, feminism, black feminism, womanism, the concept of the other, eugenics, overviews of political topics, women’s studies, body politics, etc.

Also some of the scholars and writers of these texts, have a myriad of other informative texts and papers that are worthwhile researching. These are just the ones I’ve been exposed to.

I have decided to divide some of the sources up and place them into some topics of discussion. You’ll find that some citations occur under more than one topic of discussion because many of these texts touch on multiple areas.

Please feel free to add on texts, different media and posts that you think are helpful. They don’t need to be just political sciences, international relations, and philosophy texts. Any texts, books, academic papers/media, podcasts, newspaper articles, interviews etc. from other perspectives and fields is welcome. The more (perspectives and sources) the merrier and the more educated we can become as a collective.

The Concept of Blackness and the Other

Biko, S. (January 1971). White Racism and Black Consciousness: The Totality of White Power in South Africa. White racism and Black Conciousness (pp. 1-11). First Inter-University Research Workshop on Students and Youth in South Africa.

Blum, L. (2019). Chapter 8: Racialised Groups and Social Constructions in "I'm Not a Racist, But...": The Moral Quandary of Race. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Cérsaire, A. (1955). Discourse on Colonialism. In F. L. Hord, M. L. Okpara, & J. S. Lee, I Am Because We Are: Readings in Africana Philosophy (pp. 162-171). Amhearst: University of Massachusetts Press.

Du Bois, W., 1933. On being Ashamed of Oneself: An Essay on Race Pride. Crisis, 40(9), pp.199-200.

Eze, E. (1997). The Colour of Reason: The idea of 'Race' in Kant's Anthropology. Postcolonial African Philosophy: A Critical Reader, 103-140.

Fanon, F. (1967). Black Skin, White Masks. New York City: Grove Press.

Garvey, M., In Garvey, A. J., & Essien-Udom, E. U. (1967). Philosophy and opinions of Marcus Garvey, or, Africa for the Africans.

Magubane, B., 2001. Social Construction of Race and Citizenship in South Africa. United Nations Research Institute for Social Development (UNRISD) Conference on Racism and Public Policy, (September 2001), pp.1-33.

Andrew Heywood is a scholar whose work is very accessible and touches on various political and international issues (His textbooks are great)

Heywood, A. (2011). Chapter 15: Poverty and Development. In A. Heywood, Global Politics (pp. 352-379). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan.

Heywood, A. (2011). Regionalism and Global Politics. In A. Heywood, Global Politics (pp. 480-506). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillian.

Heywood, A. (2013). Politics, Society and Identity. In A. Heywood, Politics (pp. 151- 170). Houndmills: Palgrave.

Eugenics

Eze, E. (1997). The Colour of Reason: The idea of 'Race' in Kant's Anthropology. Postcolonial African Philosophy: A Critical Reader, 103-140.

Naicker, L. (2012). The role of eugenics and religion in the construction of race in South Africa (Volume 38 (2) ed.). Pretoria: Studia Historiae Ecclesiasticae.

Rich, P. (1990). Race, Science, and the Legitimization of White Supremacy in South Africa, 1902-1940. The International Journal of African Historical Studies, Vol. 23, No. 4, 665-686.

Sutton, G. (2007). The Layering of History: A brief look at Eugenics, the Holocaust and Scientific Racism in South Africa. Yesterday & Today No 1, 22-29.

The legacy of colonialism and colonial ideology (this also includes the various waves of Black Consciousness thought from various global regions that include the Caribbean, North America as well as Africa)

Mamdani, M., 2001. Beyond Settler and Native as Political Identities: Overcoming the Political Legacy of Colonialism. Society for Comparative Studies in Society and History, 43(4), pp.651-664.

Biko, S. (January 1971). White Racism and Black Consciousness: The Totality of White Power in South Africa. White racism and Black Consciousness (pp. 1-11). First Inter-University Research Workshop on Students and Youth in South Africa.

Biko, S., & Stubbs, A. (1987). I write what I like: A selection of his writings. Heinemann.

Cérsaire, A. (1955). Discourse on Colonialism. In F. L. Hord, M. L. Okpara, & J. S. Lee, I Am Because We Are: Readings in Africana Philosophy. Amhearst: University of Massachusetts Press.

Crenshaw, Kimberle. (1991) Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence Against Women of Colour. In Standford Law Review, July, vol. 43. pp. 1241-1299.

Eze, E. (1997). The Colour of Reason: The idea of 'Race' in Kant's Anthropology. Postcolonial African Philosophy: A Critical Reader, 103-140.

Fanon, F. (1967). Black Skin, White Masks. New York City: Grove Press.

Garvey, M., In Garvey, A. J., & Essien-Udom, E. U. (1967). Philosophy and opinions of Marcus Garvey, or, Africa for the Africans.

Hyden G., 2008, 'Institutions, Power and Policy Outcomes in Africa', Africa Power and Politics Programme (APPP) pp. 1-34, London

Ndaba, B., Owen, T., Panyane, M., Rabbie, S., & Smith, J. (2017). The Black Consciousness Reader (Second Edition) pp. 1-21. New York City: OR Books.

Nkrumah, K. (1968). The Spectre of Black Power. The Spectre of Black Power and The Struggle Continues, 421-434.

Parker, J. & Rathbone, R. (2007). African History: A Very Short Introduction pp. 25-45. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Robinson, C., 1983. Introduction and Chapter 1: The Non Objective character of Capitalist Development. In: C. Robinson, ed., Black Marxism, 1st ed. London: Zed Press, pp.1-28.

Sharplay-Whiting, T. D. (2000). Femme Negritude: Jane Nardal, La Depeche africaine, and the Francophone New Negro. Souls: A Critical journal of Black Politics, Culture, and Society, 8-17.

Multiculturalism, WOC, and hegemonic feminism (also touches on colonialism)

Amos, V & Parmer., P (1984). “Challenging Imperial Feminism”. Feminist Review. 17,

pp 3-19.

Gqola, P.G (2001). “Ufanele Uqavile: Black women, feminism and post coloniality in Africa.” Agenda: Empowering Women for Gender Equity. No. 50, pp11-22. Taylor Francis Ltd.

Lugones, M. (2010). “The Colonality of Gender” in Mignolo Walter, Aturo Escobar (eds.) Globalisation and the Decolonial Option. London: Routledge.

Mohanty, Chandra Talapade. (2003) “Under Western Eyes. Feminist Scholarship amd Colonial Discourses” in Chalra Talapede Mohanty (ed.) Feminism without borders: Decolonizing Theory, Practicing Solidarity. Durham, London: Duke University Press. Pp 1-17

Nash, Jennifer. Practicing Love: Black Feminism, Love-Politics, and Post-Intersectionality. Meridiians

Okin Moller, Susan. (1999) Is Multiculturalism Bad for Women? Princeton: Princeton

University. Pp 1.-24

WOC reponses to Okin Moller

Homi K. Bhabha. (1999). “Liberalism’s Sacred Cow” in Susan Okin Moller Is Multiculturalism Bad for Women? Princeton: Princeton University. Pp.76-79

Honig, Bonnie. (1999). “My Culture Made Me Do It” in Susan Okin Moller Is Multiculturalism Bad for Women? Princeton: Princeton University. pp. 35—41

Sassen, Saskia. (1999). “Culture beyond Gender” in Susan Okin Moller Is Multiculturalism Bad for Women? Princeton: Princeton University. Pp.76-79

Black Feminism, Womanism and Black Women’s history

Edgerton, Robert B. (2000) Warrior Women: The Amazons of Dahomey and the Nature of War. Boulder: Westview Press. pp. 1-37, 121-157.

Farrar, Tarikhu. (1997) “The Queenmother, Matriarchy, and the Question of Female Political Authority in Postcolonial West African Monarchy” in Journal of Black Studies, Vol.27, No.5. pp. 579-597.

Hill Collins, Patricia. (2000) “Work, Family and Black Women’s Oppression,” Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness and the Politics of Empowerment (2nd ed.), New York: Routledge

White, Deborah Gray. (1999) Ar’n’t I a Woman? Female Slaves in the Plantation South, New York: W. W. Norton & Company, Introduction, Chapter 1, 2, 5.

Black Feminism (with a focus on representing WOC and POC bodies)

Hartman, S (2008). “Venus in Two Acts”. small axe, 12(2), pp 1-14.

Gqola, P. D (2010). “(Not) Representing Sarah Bartmaan“. What is Slavery to Me? Postcolonial Slave Memory in South Africa. Johannesburg: Wits University Press.

Baderoon, G (2011). “This is our speech: voice, body and poetic form in recent South Africa writing”. Social Dynamics: A journal of South African Studies. 37:2, pp.213-227

Crenshaw, K (1992). “Whose story is it, anyway? Racist appropriations of Anita Hill”. Race-ing Justice, En-Gendering Power: Essays on Anita Hill, Clarence Thomas and the Construction of Social Reality. Pantheon Books.

Women’s studies and the history of the women and feminist field

Thurner, Manuela. (2003) “Issues and Paradigms in American Women’s History” in Norton, Beth and Ruth M. Alexander. Major Problems in American Women’s History. Boston, New York: Houghton Mifflin Company. pp. 2-8

Bock, Gisela. (2003) “Challenging Dichotomies in Women’s History” in Norton, Beth and Ruth M. Alexander. Major Problems in American Women’s History. Boston, New York: Houghton Mifflin Company. pp. 8-14

Evelyn, Brooks Higginbotham. (2003) “African American Women in History” in Norton, Beth and Ruth M. Alexander (eds.), Major Problems in American Women’s History. Boston, New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, pp. 14-19

Please reblog if you have insight to share or any sources. I hope this may be of use to you!

#Community citations and resources #sources #Casio speaks #Please feel free to add #all forms of texts and sources are welcome #anyone can add #research #study

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blackkatmagic · 3 years

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fracture update + new fic

Chapter 38 of fracture is now up, and the first chapter of the new tier 3 Patreon fic has been posted!

#my writing #tarrewaxer #agenalpha #tarre vizsla #clone trooper waxer #arc trooper alpha 17 #agen kolar #star wars

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ratcatcher0325 · 3 years

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Nobody’s Fool (Chapter #39)

Chapter #39. Okay our poor hero has been through more than enough. How about a chance to heal? This chapter is SUPER fluffy. Can you tell what time of year it was when I wrote this?

Previous: Chapter #38

Next: Chapter #40

CW: None ________________________________________

NOBODY'S FOOL

Chapter #39: Home for the Holidays

Word Count: 1226 Read Time: Approx. 10 mins

[Penn's POV]

Like an impossibly white light shone directly into my eyes, it was as though life flooded into my brain with a sudden flash. Everything rushed forward and I found myself gasping desperately for air.

Every part of my body was ablaze with pain, I felt like a bloodless, lifeless husk of a living being. But I’d survived. Somehow. Miraculously. I’d made it. Slowly, my senses began to return to me. First, touch, which was a blessing and a curse. Almost all at once I could feel the open wounds, the blood oozing out of my cracked skull, the bruises, the fractured ribs, the aching muscles, my crushed windpipe, and the exasperated lungs. But I could also feel warm, soft and familiar flesh cradling me, embracing me. I knew immediately who’s hand surrounded my broken body. Had she been the one to save me?

Then, my sense of hearing returned. First, as nothing more than a horrible, high pitched din as my brain felt like it was swimming inside my skull. Slowly, the world around me came into focus. Her voice strained, cracked with sobs, but exhilarated, reached my ears “Oh!! Penn! Oh, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay! I knew I wouldn’t lose you. You’re too strong for that…. My sweet, Penn. You’re okay. I’m so glad you’re okay…” The soft pads of her fingers traced my body, caressed my hair, rested over my heart, squeezed my hand, but her touch was feather light. She was so gentle so as not to make any of my injuries worse.

Finally, as I peeled open my bloodshot eyes, my vision returned bit by bit. “Hello, Penn.” she smiled, those eyes brilliant as ever, flooded with shimmering tears. I tried to say something in return but realized my throat was clogged with blood. I sputtered and coughed before hacking it up off of the edge of Eveline’s hand. This shook my whole body to its core as I wretched, my throat incredibly sore and raw. I collapsed back onto the surface of her palm, trying to catch my breath as my chest heaved from that relatively small effort. “Don’t try to speak just yet, yeah? Let’s make sure you get all healed up properly.” I couldn’t even muster the strength to nod my head yes.

The next day and a half was an excruciating blur. Hours felt like minutes and seconds lasted for weeks. I couldn’t speak. I could hardly breathe or swallow. I ebbed in and out of sleep every few hours. Every time I woke she was right by my side, almost always holding me. She told me I had been to see a vet and had been prescribed some pain medication, but I had no memory of that. The medicine helped dull the pain so that I could swallow and breathe a little easier. She was so gentle and attentive. At times, she seemed to be taking it harder than I was. She was so worried about me, her brow permanently furrowed, as she searched my face for signs of pain. I wanted to tease her about being too much of a worrier, but still couldn’t muster the strength to speak. After all, what was one more brush with death for a guy like me? It was old hat! I knew that wasn’t true, of course. I was beside myself with terror as I faced down what I thought were the final seconds of my life. But, if I could find a way to lighten the mood and help her to relax, it was worth it to me. For as much pain as I was in, I could only imagine how much more dire it must’ve looked to her. I was already so small and fragile to her, that seeing me hardly able to move on my own must’ve really impacted her. I wished I could calm her down. I knew she blamed herself for this, but I didn’t. She had told him to leave and he did this behind her back. It wasn’t her fault.

Luckily, due to the holiday season, the band had scheduled for a week off from the tour to return home. Originally, the plan was to fly back from Chicago to Texas, and hire a company to transport the van and our gear. I was in no shape to fly, so Eveline and Travis decided they’d road-trip in the van with me. This act of compassion made tears well up in my eyes. Eveline just kept stroking my hair, promising me they were happy to do it. The trip took about two days.

As I slipped in and out of consciousness, listening to the wind whip the sides of the van as it tore down the ice covered highway, my body thrumming to the vibrations of the vehicle as I laid in Eveline’s lap, I couldn’t help the flash of horrible, violent memories from behind my closed eyelids. Seeing his menacing hands or feet edging nearer and nearer before blotting out all light. I would jump awake, bathed in a cold sweat, whimpering. She held me close until I could bring my heart rate down to a steady, even rhythm. This trip, although blurry and streaked with pain, made me feel so close to her. She was my guardian angel again.

********************

It was excruciating to see him so battered and broken like this. I was burning with rage, at Sam, yes, but mostly at myself. This tiny man was the most precious thing in my life and I had put him in harm’s way. It killed me that I couldn’t observe him up close, to really see how he was getting on. In this weak and vulnerable state, I was forced to remember just how small and easily breakable he was. We’d been so lucky to find him alive.

He was fighting hard to recover and making progress faster than I ever could have dreamed. Every time he woke up crying and trembling like a leaf, I could only imagine what sort of horrible things he was reliving. I felt practically sick with grief and guilt as I watched him wile away the hours, almost too weak to move. I had noticed how strangely stoic Sam had acted when I told him we were done, but I hadn’t realized he had been capable of something so incredibly fucked up.

I couldn’t help feeling like this whole disaster was my fault. If only I’d realized. If only I’d kept him safe from harm. In the last four days since the incident I never left his side. I couldn’t help feeling like I had making up to do for putting him in a position to get hurt.

He was more mobile now, able to sit up, stand and walk short distances. His throat was healing and he was able to eat more than just apple sauce or pudding. His voice was cracked, raspy, strained, but he could finally speak, too. This was a huge relief. I had been terrified he may never recover that silky, wonderful voice of his. He was determined to heal and I was incredibly impressed by the strength of his will. He may have been easily battered, but he was impossible to break. In his own way, he was the strongest person I’d ever met. We felt confident he would make a full recovery by the end of our holiday vacation, if not before.

Now as we got closer to home, the Texas border only fifteen or so miles away, I watched as he slept, curled up on my hand. He hugged my thumb close to his chest, the tip of which rested over his tiny heart. He was sleeping soundly, his face relaxed, lips slightly parted. I was so in love with this perfect, sweet man. A tear rolled down my cheek as I shook my head in disbelief. Where would I be without him? Sweet dreams, handsome, get some rest. I found myself relaxing into the vibrations of the car as I laid my head back and closed my eyes. Maybe we both deserved to rest… Just for a few minutes.

I didn’t wake up until I heard the tires grind to a stop in the driveway. For one heart stopping moment I didn’t feel a warm little bundle of fabric and flesh on my palms. I shot up, terrified, only to see Travis leaning over the wheel smirking at me with Penn, sitting in his pocket, his little head in his hands chuckling at my panic and waving. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty..” he smiled. He loved getting one up on me, the little bastard!

I grimaced at them and they fist bumped each other. “This is gonna be a long Christmas vacation if the two of you are gonna fuck with me the whole time…” I rolled my eyes, teasingly, as I shuffled out of the van. Travis followed suit, meeting me around the front.

“Aww don’t worry, Ev! We’ll give you a break… when we’re unconscious!” He tackled me in a side bear hug, tousling my hair until it stood in a giant mess on the top of my head, pulled out from its loose ponytail. As he pinned me to his chest, bulging arm wrapped snugly around my neck, I found myself at eye level with the pet in his breast pocket. Penn pointed and laughed so hard he cried. He was having way too much fun at my expense. I mouthed “Fuck you” at him and he just flipped me the finger, until Travis released his grip, laughing heartily, “It’s good to be home for the holidays isn’t it?” I groaned. But of course, he was right. I hadn’t flown back to Texas since I’d been with Sam. It was nice to reconnect with my roots after so long.

Travis’ family was hosting, in their one story suburban home that hadn’t changed a bit since he and I had worked on 8th grade book reports and final projects there all those years ago. Sure, the paint was peeling from the shutters and the lawn had seen better days but it was exactly as I remembered it. His parents greeted us at the door, his father looking exactly like him, tall, broad shouldered, dusted with freckles and, of course, that beautiful copper hair, except his was cut short and streaked with gray. His mother was a thin, lithe woman, with sweet green eyes and straight brown hair, she was tall in her own right but was dwarfed by her son. Hamish and Junie were their names.

The second the door opened his parents rushed forward to hug him, “Woah, woah!” He took a step back, “Careful! Mom, Dad, meet Penn. Penn, meet Mom and Dad!”

Hamish’s voice, sounding eerily similar to his son’s, burst into hearty, belly laughter as Junie rushed to put her reading glasses on, “Ha ha! Of course! How could we forget the famous little fellow?” They both leaned in to greet him, he held out his hand to shake. Delighted, both man and woman gripped his tiny palm between their fingers, this time Junie spoke, “Well aren’t you just the perfect gentleman? We’re delighted to meet you! Travis tells me you’re quite the talented musician!” Penn’s face flushed as he ran his hands through his hair.

Just then, they noticed me standing behind Travis on the lower step. Sorry, Penn, but you’re not quite the same level of famous in the Birch household. They rushed past their own son and both embraced me like I was their long lost child. I couldn’t help the tears that welled up in my eyes. I’d missed this so much more than I’d realized.

Soon, we all filed into the house and found ourselves in a chaotic, Christmas wonderland. I’d forgotten how much Junie loved this time of year. The Rankin and Bass Rudolph was playing at full blast in the living room, while the three Christmas trees visible from the entryway twinkled with colored lights. Tacky Santa figurines lined all available shelf space like holiday themed sentinels. There were garlands hung on every available counter and over the mantle. A huge nativity scene on the top. The fire was on despite it being a typically warm Texas winter. Christmas cards were pinned on a massive board near the kitchen table. The whole house smelled sickly sweet of icing and the warm sensuous smell of something baking. Junie was a local celebrity for her baking skills. There were at least five haphazardly constructed gingerbread houses on display.

As soon as we stepped inside, I spotted the flaming red hair of another member of the Birch family, Travis’ little sister Lacey, or Lace for short. She was on the floor, her head propped in her hands as she watched with wide eyes at the stop-motion reindeer on the screen. When she saw me, she screamed, running over and tackling me in a koala hug. She’d gotten so big! I hadn’t seen her in two years… she must’ve been twelve now. She almost barreled me over. “EVIE!!” She was the only one I ever allowed to call me that.

“Lace!!!! I missed you!” I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her back just as tightly. As soon as her bare feet touched back down on the carpet, “Hey, I have someone I’d like you to meet… close your eyes!” She did so, I looked at Penn, lifting an eyebrow, he nodded, face full of color, his brown eyes sparkling. I gingerly helped him up and out of Travis’ pocket and set him down in my cupped hand. He sat back, his knee just before his chest, his weight resting on one arm. “Okay, open!” Her face lit up with a childlike wonder and amazement that I couldn’t help admiring. “Lacey, this is Penn. Penn, this is Travis’ sister, Lacey…”

His voice was still a little strained but he was in much better shape, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Lacey!” He stretched out his hand and she tentatively, gently placed the pad of her finger into his palm. He pulled it toward him and kissed the tip of her finger. She giggled, absolutely enamored.

Dani and Riley were there as well, Dani sporting an ugly Christmas sweater with dinosaurs on it and rocking a pair of sunglasses inside, for some reason. Riley had a Santa hat on, both were sipping eggnog like it was going out of style. “Sup losers??” Dani stuck out her tongue from behind her mug as she lowered her shades to look at us.

I couldn’t help smiling. This was home. It was family. And I was getting to share it with Penn, who I was sure had never had a family to call his own. I felt his eyes on me, and as I lifted him up, he pressed his cheek into the pad of my thumb. I kissed him on his hair as he whispered in my ear, “Thank you, Eveline. This is incredible….”

#Penn's first Christmas #Yay family #g/t related #g/t #g/t community #g/t au #g/t writing #giant/tiny #g/t fluff

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