#give the doctor some magnetic boots so he can still get around to them and boom you've protected the guy with the broken leg from falling on

[el-im]

[gucciwins]

Weeping Willow

Harry sends his wife for a girl’s night, and their five-month-old baby falls sick.

Word count: 5,093

A/N: i am no expert on babies (unless it’s my almost two-year-old niece) but i have it on good authority this does bring down fevers. This was written for @tbslenthusiast dadathon. i hope you love it. xx

___

It's a Saturday night, and Harry tries his best to convince his wife to go out with her friends for a nice dinner while he cares for baby Willow.

Their five-month-old infant. The sweetest little girl to grace the earth in Harry's opinion. 

He's never felt a love like this, a never-ending love for his child. He swears he has never been more in love with his wife, his twin flame, for giving him the greatest gift he will ever receive. 

She's standing there cradling Willow in her arms as she begins to drift off to sleep. Humming a song she hasn't shared with Harry. Something special between mother and daughter. As much as Harry hates to admit it but their daughter is a momma's girl at heart. 

Willow feels that extra protection from her mother; he gives her all the cuddles and kisses, but there is no more special bond than when Y/N holds her close to her heart, and Willow settles down in seconds. When she is breastfeeding, Y/N tells her the stories of her childhood and when Harry and she were first dating. 

It's the irregular sleep schedule that Y/N has never once complained about. 

Harry wakes up at the oddest of times when he stretches his arms out to reach for Y/N to pull her close to his chest only to find her missing. More time than not, he'll find her at their windowsill, Willow getting her night time meal as Y/N gazes at the moon softly singing Lolo a lullaby that was once sung to Y/N. The moonlight bouncing off her skin made her look eternal as if she weren't real, and Harry just imagined up this life. 

But she is real, and she is all his, and their daughter is theirs. 

As a kid, this was the life he dreamed of, never knowing if it would come true or not. He will never stop being grateful for all he has in life, full of love. 

Harry is brought out of his thoughts when Y/N addresses him. 

"I don't know, H. She's a little warm." Y/N stands there, the back of her hand gently placed on her baby's forehead before moving it to Willow's cheek. She smiles down at her sleeping baby.

Harry sighs, extending his arms for her to hand him their small baby. She shakes her head, taking two steps back. 

Harry chuckles because he knew this would happen, but he forgot how stubborn she could be. 

She's wearing Harry's lilac robe, her hair curled, and makeup is done. He made her do a red lipstick because he missed it. It's one that Gemma gave her that's smudge and transfer free. Meaning he can kiss her with it all night long without his lips turning red. 

"Willow is fine. Maybe she passed some gas." 

She rips her gaze from Willow and shoots him a glare. He puts his hands up in defense. 

"If she starts feeling sick, you know the crying won't stop. She likes it when I soothe her."

"She's my daughter too. I can take care of her and soothe her just as good."

She kisses Willow's head, slowly continuing to grow brown curls just like Harry's. "I know you can, but there's this motherly instinct telling me not to go."

"My husband instinct is saying that my wife should go out to dinner with her friends for a nice dinner and some wine." Harry rebuttals. 

"I don't drink." She mutters into her baby's head as she adjusts her to lay on her chest as she sways side to side. 

"Well, then go crazy with the strawberry lemonade." 

She sighs. Harry knows she's close to giving in. 

Her clothes set out in bed, ready for her to throw on. Harry chose her outfit, and he's proud of it. Camel-tone flared fitted trousers, a black fitted v-neck, and a double-breasted twill blazer to tie the look. Her black Gucci 'sucker' boots waiting for her at the door to be slipped on then head out the door. 

"If I go, you have to promise to text me every hour." 

"Half hour if you really need it." He counters. 

She shakes her head, no. "If you do that, I'll be home by the second text." 

He nods, happy she agreed to go. She needs this no matter how much she had been fighting it. 

"Alright, Lolo, I'm going to leave you with your Daddy for a few hours. I hope you don't miss me too much. I'll make up for leaving you with cuddles for the whole night, munchkin." 

Harry's eyes well up, always in awe at the relationship between his wife and their daughter. Their beautiful five-month-old daughter who Harry, thinks is growing too fast. She's still on the small side, but the doctor assured them she was doing good. 

Y/N placed her in the crib that Harry put together with Gemma's help, who wanted to be involved with as much as Harry would let her. 

She stirs a little, but Y/N pats her chest softly, calming her down. 

"I'm going to go get dressed. Turn on the baby monitor, please?" She points in the direction of it.

"On it, love." 

She walks out and gets dressed quickly, knowing there's a reservation, and she doesn't like arriving late. Harry meets her downstairs baby monitor in hand as she stands boots safely on her feet. 

Harry shamelessly checks her out. He almost begs her to stay after seeing how good she looks, but he knows she needs this.

"Text me when you get there." He wraps her in a hug, not wanting to let go just yet. 

"Of course." 

She pulls back, looking up at him before leaning in to peck his lips three times; she walks out the door, bag in hand, when Harry tugs her wrist, turning her around connecting his lips with hers. It's a short passionate kiss, Harry's tongue fighting for dominance. She lets out a small moan. Y/N, let's Harry be the one to pull back, not at all wanting to break the kiss. 

Harry smirks as he sees the dazed look in her eyes. "Just so you know what you have waiting at home for you." 

"You menace." Harry leans on the door as she walks out. "I love you, H." 

"And I love you." 

Harry watched as she drove away before going back in and heading straight to the nursery, where his darling Willow is still sleeping.  

"Just you and me, Lolo," Harry whispers as he sits in the rocking chair and lays back to rest his eyes. It's like they say when the baby sleeps, he does as well. 

____

Harry wakes up when he hears a small sneeze. He peeks at Willow, but she still has her eyes closed. He picks up his phone to check how long he slept and is shocked. It was only twenty minutes; he felt like it had been much longer now, feeling a bit more energized. 

He sees a text Darling and opens it, 

I've arrived safely. 

I miss you both so much already. xx 

Harry can't help but smile. He misses her already. He might always be playing music in the house that fills the silence, but Harry only does it because she sings along to each song no matter how bad she can butcher the lyrics to an unknown song. 

She fills the home with warmth and love. 

I love you! Lolo is still sleeping. Have a lovely night. xx 

Harry sat in the rocking chair, just gazing at his daughter. Her cheeks were a little red, but he thought she might be a bit warm. He unwraps the blanket, just watching her stretch out her small fists. 

Willow slowly blinks her eyes open, a small smile on her face when she sees her father looking down at her. 

"You up, Lolo? No more sleep, I'm guessing." 

She continues to stare at Harry before turning her head to the door. Harry knows she's waiting for someone to come in. After a few moments of no movements, Willow looks at Harry, giving her a small smile.

"Waiting for your Mum, I know. She'll be back later; for now, it's you and me." 

Harry reaches in to pick her up, gently shushing her, not wanting her to start crying. He walks down the stairs slowly, the fear of tripping down the stairs more present than ever with his baby in his arms. 

Harry sits her on the couch, a pillow propped up on the back to help support her back, and grabs her stuffed bunny that was left on the coffee table. It's her favorite toy to play with at all times. 

Willow sets it in her lap, not at all looking at it, eyes on Harry. He sees her eyes begin to well up, and he knows the tears are coming. He scoops her up gently, letting the bunny fall to the floor so Harry could soothe his baby. 

"My Willo baby, no tears. You know it breaks my heart." He begins shushing gently. Gemma swears by it watching Alice do the Ss in New Amsterdam. Y/N does it too, her grandma teaching her that when she helped watch over younger cousins. 

This settles her for a second, resting her head in the crook of Harry's neck as he rubs a hand gently down her back. "Good baby, Momma would be proud of us." He knows he made a mistake once she lets out a loud wail. 

He can only assume the word Momma did it for her. 

His phone alarm begins to ring, meaning it's the hour update, and if he doesn't check-in, she'll call, and if he doesn't answer, she'll worry even more and drive herself more. He does not need that happening. 

Harry will not let her call; he'll send a sleeping photo of Willow to Y/N to keep her calm because he can do this. He can tend to his child alone. She's half of his DNA; why wouldn't he be able to. 

His Mum always told him babies cry for three reasons: dirty diaper, sleepy, and hunger. He assumes she's hungry. Has to be, her diaper doesn't feel full, and she also doesn't smell. 

As Harry goes to the kitchen, he stops at the fridge. He sees all the magnets that Y/N loves collecting when visiting a new country, state, or city. Her favorite being the Trevi Fountain. Tells her every time she sees it, she can see Harry down on his knee, tears in his eyes and heart wide open for her. Safe to say it became his favorite as well. Right under it is a yellow sticky note "Just in case xx Dr. Harp" The phone number of Willow's pediatrician. 

Y/N really is the best, but he knows that he has everything under control, or at least he keeps telling himself that as Willow continues her crying, no amount of words calms her. He'd also call his Mum before the pediatrician, who would only end up calling Y/N. 

"Mummy left your milk in the fridge; now, all we have to do is warm it up." 

Willow's cries go quiet for a second at what Harry can only think was at word milk. He can do this. 

They don't bottle feed her as often, both preferring her to breastfeed directly from Y/N. Harry encouraged her to pump milk because Y/N has complained over too many milk stained shirts. It has helped her tremendously. A few times, when Y/N was too tired to get up, he offered to warm the milk to feed Willow. Y/N knew how important it was for Harry, so she allowed him and began pumping more for Harry to help provide her during the day. 

He gets a bowl and fills it with hot water, then places the bottle in. He knows it should be a few minutes, he begins singing to Willow. He sings her the song he wrote for his sister, which holds meaning to Y/N now, finding a connection that makes them feel at peace when hearing the song. As Harry gently sings 'Sweet Creature,' he sees her settle, nose runny from the tears, he grabs one of her clothes that Y/N keeps in the kitchen. Truth be told, she has them spread all over the house to have one on hand when necessary. He wipes the snot then drapes it over his open shoulder. He checks the temperature, able to hear Y/N scold him in his head for wanting to skip the step. 

"Lolo, going to go sit down, and then you can begin eating." She blinks up at him, her green eyes unfocused, refusing to settle on one place of his face. 

He sits and adjusts Willow to cradle her in his arms. He does a final temperature check on his wrist and is happy with the outcome. He slowly brings it up to her lips to startle her, and she latches on after a few seconds. 

Harry leans back on the chair, releasing a long sigh. He feels victorious, even just for a moment. 

The phone on the couch seat next to him displays a text:

 I love you both. xx 

He's in the clear. 

Harry sings Willow the first song that pops into his head, well he mainly hums as she has her eyes closed and a fist clenched on her blanket and the other tucked in. He pulls the bottle away once he sees no more movement. He wipes the outside of her mouth very carefully to not disturb her. 

"Willow, Angel, I need to burp you. You shouldn't even feel it." Harry likes warning her; he knows she understands. 

He's done relatively quickly, settling her back in his arms to let her sleep. Harry would love to turn the television on, but he settles for staring at the angel in his arms. 

Harry frowns when he sees Willow's eyes flutter open. She sleeps longer after eating. 

"Lolo, it's barely been ten minutes. That's not enough for a growing baby. You need to grow up to be strong, just like Momma."

Willow lets out a small cough. It startles Harry, not having heard the sound before. He gently picks her up and begins patting her back, soothing her as she calms down. 

Harry thinks back to the phone number stuck on the fridge but shakes the thought away because one cough is not enough to make a call, especially this late at night. 

He is now slowly walking in front of the couch, trying to get her to fall back to sleep. It's not working. 

It starts off in small whimpers before turning into loud wails. 

This is not good. 

Harry tries his best to place his baby's cries, but it does not sound familiar. He isn't calling Y/N; worrying her is not part of tonight's plans, but there is someone in mind who will always answer him. Without thinking twice, he goes to favorites and picks the second person. 

"Hello love, how are you?" 

He's greeted by a calming voice, but it does nothing to soothe the pounding in his heart. "Hi, Mum." Harry isn't even sure she heard with Willow's loud cries. 

"Is something wrong? Why is little Willow crying? Where's Y/N?" Anne is quick to jump in.

"Today was her first girl's night out that I was insistent she go out to even though she didn't want to, but she should be back in the next hour or so." He addressed that question before jumping into the most important one. "Willow coughed then settled down before bursting into this cry. I've never heard it before. It's not her hungry one because she ate half an hour ago, and her diaper is clean." He lets out a sob he didn't know he was holding back. 

"Oh, dear, right. First off, is she hot? warmer than usual." 

Harry pulls her back, face scrunched up, nose full of snot. He places the back of his hand on his forehead, and it's burning. "Yes, she's warm. But couldn't it be from the crying?" 

Anne sighs, worried for her son, but this is parenthood having to see your child get sick and old help them through it. The first time is always the worst, but each time after that still breaks your heart. "No love, check her temperature and call the pediatrician. Tell her the symptoms, and you can go from there. Right, hang up, call Y/N, and the pediatrician in that order." 

Harry agrees to get her off the phone and to make the call right away. Anne knows Harry well enough that he will skip one important thing she told him to do, so she takes it upon herself to get it done. 

 He heads upstairs, sitting the still crying Willow in the crib as he searches for the thermometer he knows Y/N keeps next to the wipes for emergencies. He is quick to take off her shirt as gently as one can be and sticks it under her armpit as he waits for it to ring as he dials Dr. Harp.

There is an answer on the third ring, just as the thermometer beeps. 

"Dr. Harp, hello, it's Harry Styles, father of Willow Styles." He says in a rush.

"Yes, Mr. Styles, what can I do for you." The doctor's voice is kind, and it calms Harry knowing there's a professional helping him. 

"Well, my daughter slept about ten minutes before waking up after eating, and that isn't normal for her. She had a bit of a cough and has not stopped crying for the past twenty minutes now. She's burning up Doc. The thermometer says 103F. Shit, I meant 39C. My wife's family got us a fancy thermometer that gives us both numbers." He feels the need to explain a hand on the back of Willow's head, trying to calm her down as well as himself. 

"Well, it seems it could be a common cold. There is not a lot to do, except keep your baby drinking milk. Mrs. Styles is still breastfeeding, correct?"

"Yes."

"Okay, it's important to keep her hydrated and check with her through the night. To bring down the temperature, a lukewarm bath would help as well as a humidifier because, from the sounds of it, she is a bit congested." 

Harry nods along to everything she is saying, repeating it back. "Thank you so much, Dr. Harp." 

"It's no problem; if the fever doesn't break or gets higher than 40C, then I suggest you head straight to the hospital." Dr. Harp says her goodbyes as he picks up Willow and heads to their bedroom, taking her into their bathroom. 

He looks around, not sure what to do first that he misses the sound of the door opening and closing as well as footsteps up the stairs. It might have also been Willow's crying. 

Willow lock's eyes with Y/N over Harry's shoulder, stopping for a second, causing Harry to gasp before she starts up louder than before for not being in her mother's arms. 

"Willow, darling," Y/N smiles at her daughter, cheeks red and nose snotty but still her beautiful baby. 

Harry feels like he can breathe properly now that she's home with him. His missing half home, finally feeling complete. He does feel awful for not calling her right away, but he swore she was having a good time. 

Harry hands over Willow to Y/N's waiting arms watching as she cradles her close, pressing repeated kisses to her daughter's brown hair. Willow instantly clenches a fist onto her necklace, not that Y/N minds, but Harry feels guilty for depriving his daughter of her mother. It was his fault she was out tonight. 

"How'd you get here so quick?" Are the first words Harry thinks to say. 

Harry thought she'd be mad at him for not calling, but all he sees are her kind and gentle eyes he fell in love with. 

"Anne called me to update me, but I was already ten minutes from home. I had dinner but got it to go having that nagging feeling you needed me. Anne called it mother's intuition, but" She breathes in Willow's smell, Harry finding it endearing how she always says she smells amazing like peaches. "I swear I could feel how distressed you were. I thought you were having a bad time, so I got you ice cream and brought home a meal we could share." 

He leans against the sink, a small grin forming on his face. "I did always tell you we were soulmates." 

Y/N steps further into the bathroom, heading to the tub to get the water-filled. She sits on the toilet, letting it fill before dipping her hand in from time to time. It feels a bit less than halfway before she closes the tap. 

"Doctor's orders were getting the temperature down, right?" Y/N asks Harry, and he nods. "Well, in the lukewarm bath, she goes." Y/N fakes as if she is going to place Willow in before hugging her to her chest once more. "I'm only playing." She boops Lolo's nose.

"Your momma thinks she's so funny, Lolo." Harry rolls his eyes at her, not at all, hiding the love behind them. 

"Get in the bath with her, H." Y/N has successfully undressed Willow, giving her kisses all over, causing Willow to let out a small giggle. 

Harry near tears now. "That's the first time she laughed this entire night." 

"Honey, listen. She hasn't gotten sick before. It's okay, we're learning." She reaches a hand up to cup his cheek, and he leans into it eagerly. "We are learning together." He nods as she pulls her hand away. "Now, do I need to undress my other baby as well?" 

He smiles. "You're welcome to, but I got this." He slips off the black shirt and grey sweats, leaving on his briefs.

The water is perfect. Not that he expected any different because she does everything with extra care and love for Willow. He's glad to have her as his life partner and mother of his child and future children. 

He slips in, sitting down, letting Y/N gently place Willow on his bent knees. He cups her head, gently sinking himself lower. She hands him a cloth, and he looks at her, eyes wide. 

"Wet it, rinse it a bit, then just sponge it around her." 

He nods but doesn't move to receive it. Y/N moves forward, dips it in the water, and squeezes it leaving a bit of water. She gently gets Lolo's back patting before moving down. 

"Thank you." He says and accepts the cloth. 

Y/N makes her way to the bedroom. "You're leaving?" He questions, causing Willow to look at her as well. 

She laughs at her two loves, both wanting her close. "Going to turn on the humidifier. It's going to be good for her and her congestion. Then will get you both a new change of clothes before coming back. Is that okay with you both?" 

Harry looks down at Willow that still has her eyes on her Momma. "What do you think, Lolo? Think we should let Momma take care of us." He hums as if hearing her response. "She said not to take too long." 

"Wouldn't dream of it." 

Harry settles in, Willow moving her hand in the water, intrigued by the ripples allowing Harry to rinse her. He feels good, feels great, and can honestly help her and no longer cry about it. 

Y/N knows he needs this but hopes she isn't feeling too awful about leaving Willow when she got sick for the first time.

For all, he knows she could be crying in their bedroom or, even worse, the nursery where he can't hear her. 

But that's what Harry is here to remind her what a fantastic team they are and how she saved the day like always. He's proud of her just as he knows she's proud of him. 

____

It's twenty minutes when Y/N walks back in. Now dressed in grey sweats and an old white shirt that Willow loves to cling on. She approaches, and Harry raises Willow so that she can wrap her in the yellow towel. 

"My munchkin smells so good." She kisses her cheek. She turns to look at Harry with a smile on her face making him smile back. "Shower, I'm going to dress her, and then I'll bring your clothes in."

"Okay, love." 

Harry drains the water before turning on the showerhead, letting the warm water wash away the stress in his body. He doesn't take too long, wanting to cuddle his two girls all night long.

Walking out, dressing in the warm clothes that she must have thrown in the dryer for him knowing how he likes to be warm after a long night. He smiles, slipping the shirt over his head, slipping on the black sweats with no need for briefs. Turning off the bathroom light, closing the door, he sees Willow lying on Y/N's chest. 

"How is she doing?" Harry paddles over, hovering over Y/N to kiss her forehead, doing the same to Willow.

"Better, the temperature is at 98." 

Harry smiles, glad she's under three digits again. She looks sweet dressed in a bodysuit with small bumble bees all over. Y/N wrapped the knitted mint green blanket that Y/N's mother made for Willow around her shoulder to keep her warm but not enough to overheat.

"That's great. Our baby is so strong." Harry gets in bed and sits against the headboard, making Y/N shift over to rest her head on his shoulder, arms wrapped around Willow for support. 

____

It's an hour of silence basking in hearing their baby's breathing. Not as smooth due to the congestion but better than before. Harry places a kiss on Y/N's forehead when he feels the first tear, then many more follow. A sob breaking out, but breathing even to not disturb their sleeping baby on her chest. 

"Love, lovie, hey. Don't cry. She's doing better already." He wraps the arm tighter, hoping he can transfer all his love for her through the hug. 

"I'm just overwhelmed." She chokes out. 

Harry sits up to face her, reaches his hands out to wipe her rapidly falling tears.

"Please don't be mad with yourself; if there is anyone to be mad at, it's me." He pleads for her to understand. "I told you to leave us be." 

"Not mad at you, honey." She whimpers. "I-I-I'm upset I wasn't here to help you. But you handled it so well. Very proud of you." 

Harry sits there, tears falling out of his eyes now because she was proud. He did nothing. He knows he did nothing; he called his Mum and the doctor. He never got her to stop crying.

"I didn't do anything."

"Honey, you did." Her voice firm, one hand reaching up to gently raise his head to look at her. "You called Anne because you knew she would help and then called Dr. Harp for help." 

"But she never stopped crying, not until you held her." 

She shakes her head. "She was feeling bad, she cried at discomfort and unusual feelings. Might have also sensed your panic," She teases. He lets out a small chuckle. 

"We're a team. Together and apart, H." 

Harry lays down on his side, pulling Y/N down with him. He does it slowly to not move Willow; Harry lays his head on her shoulder, looking down at their baby. He lets himself relax, knowing she's going to be okay.

"I love you." He whispers. No response causing him to look up at a grinning Y/N. "Say it back." 

She giggles. "Thought you were talking to Lolo." 

"That was for you, wife." 

"My bad," She pecks his nose. "I love you, H." 

"Missed." He mutters, puckering his lips in her directions. 

"Dork." She closes the small distance and hums at the sweet taste that is Harry and mint toothpaste. He deepens it for a few seconds before pulling back. His eyes closed. He kisses her from her cheeks to her collarbones, no spot left untouched. He steals one more kiss before settling down. 

"Sleep tight, my darling, Willow," Harry whispers, throwing his arm over Willow's small body and Y/N's stomach for extra protection.

He peeks one eye open to see Y/N smiling down at Willow, no sign of sleep in her features. "I take it you won't be going out anytime soon again." 

"You got that right." She jokes. "No, it was nice. I forgot how good it is to chat about anything other than what size diapers she's going to need next."

"That's not all we talk about. We also talk about the size of your boobs." 

She snorts at his comment, and he happily joins in. 

"We haven't had a date night, well we have but indoors with a baby always in arms." 

Harry smirks. "What do you have in mind, love?" 

She blushes, "We go away for the weekend, leave Willow with Anne or Mitch since he keeps saying we keep his goddaughter away from him." 

"You'd be okay with that?" Harry checks, making sure she really wants this. 

She nods. "I'll miss her like crazy, my heart is beating faster just at the thought, but I miss you." There's a gleam in her eye, one when she gets lost in a memory. "It's quickies and late-night conversations. As much as I love our daughter, I miss my best friend." 

Harry grins, glad she's sharing this. "Any other time, I'd make a joke, but honestly, I miss you just as much." 

"Then, coordinate with Jeff on a weekend you're free and look for a place we can go to. Driving or flying whatever you find best." 

"Oh, baby, I'm going to make you fall in love with me all over again." 

"I'm counting on it, Harry." 

Harry helps Y/N drift off to sleep with his ideas of where they can go and all the naughty things they will get up to. 

Harry knows nothing in life will be better than being in the arms of his two favorite girls.

___

Thank you for reading. Please reblog it means a lot to me. 

Come and tell me what you thought of Weeping Willow 

[flowersofstarlight]

Mega Man 4

(Mega Man: Rising Heroes)

The story begins with Mega Man and Rush flying through Mega City, to see how the Wily Robot Masters are doing in their new life. As Mega Man and Rush land on top of the building, at Blast Man’s amusement park, they see Crash Man befriending Blast Man, and are having a lot of fun together, since both of them love explosions and kind of have the same personality. Magnet Man, Top Man, Gemini Man, Quick Man, Metal Man and Shadow Man are just chatting and having a bit of fun in the amusement park.

Mega Man and Rush then travel around Mega City and see how the other Wily Robot Masters are doing in their new functions. Air Man and Ice Man are working ten miles above the city. Bubble Man, Splash Woman, Oil Man and Pump Man are investigating an illegal oil pollution in the sewers. Flash Man and Time Man are in the Chronos Institute discussing how to make the Time Skimmer work. Wood Man and Cut Man are in a national park. Needle Man, Block Man, Impact Man, Concrete Man and Guts Man are constructing a large bridge. Hard Man, Snake Man and Bomb Man are leveling the ground in the wilderness, and Spark Man and Elec Man make repairs in Mega City's power plant to avoid an energy shortage.

After seeing them all happy, Mega Man stops at a waste processing plant to talk with Fire Man. He is happy that the Wily Robot Masters (2nd and 3rd liners) are happy in their new life, but somehow he doesn’t feel the same way as he tells Fire Man about his feelings.

Mega Man: So I checked in on all of Dr. Light’s Robot Masters and all the reformed Wily Bots, and they’re all doing great. I didn’t want to interrupt them. I just wanted to see if they were happy.

Fire Man: Were they?

Mega Man: Yeah… They all seem so content in their functions. So… Why can’t I feel the same way? I was originally built for peaceful functions. But I’m not sure I want to stop being Mega Man. Does that mean I can’t be happy unless I’m fighting? Do I have to do what I hate so I can feel fulfilled?

Fire Man: Listen here, pardner. It isn’t the fighting that sustains you. It’s helping people. I’m thinking you’re afraid you won’t be able to help everyone if you’re not Mega Man anymore. But your fightin’ is over. You’ve brought justice to the world. It’s okay for you to hang up the armor now. You can bring about a better future with Dr. Light as Rock. Maybe one day in the future, the world might need Mega Man to bring justice to save the world again. But just remember what you’re fighting for and use your strength to protect what matters.

Mega Man: Like my family and my friends?

Fire Man: Exactly. And I know your heart is in the right place. Especially as being a kindhearted boy and a hero.

Mega Man: (wiping his tears off) Thanks, Fire Man. I needed that. I really should hang out with you often.

Fire Man: You’re welcome, pardner. And that’d be fine by me. Now, you get on back to Light Labs. I’m sure Dr. Light needs some reassuring, too.

Heat Man: Hey, Fire Man! Jack is stuck on the wall!

Fire Man: Again? (sigh) The poor man can’t catch a break, can he?

Mega Man: (chuckles)

In Light Labs, Dr. Light remembers when he Dr. Wily were close friends back when they were colleagues and studied together at the Robot Institute of Technology, and the good old days that they were good friends and a great duo. He’s still sad for his friend’s death. After that, Roll tells Light that Mega Man is home.

Roll: Rock is home! C’mon, Doctor Light!

Dr. Light: Right behind you, dear.

Auto: Hey, Rock! How’s it going?

Rock: It’s all good, Auto. How’s Eddie coming along?

Auto: He’s complete! Gonna try booting him up tonight!

Rush: (barks happily as runs around in circle)

Roll: Welcome home, Rock!

Rock: Thanks, sis.

Roll: Is everything all right? You were gone all day.

Rock: Everything’s fine. I just needed time to… process some things. And I’ve decided it’s time, Dr. Light.

Dr. Light: Oh? For what?

Rock: To be de-weaponized. To give up my armor and Mega Buster. The world is finally at peace. It doesn’t need a Mega Man.

Roll: Hooray! Things can go back to how they used to be! You’ll be safe, and we can build new robots and gadgets all the time!

Rock: (giggles) Yeah!

Rush: (barks happily)

Dr. Light: (“The power to move mountains or topple countries, given up willingly. Years of vicious fighting, and yet he remains pure-hearted. He’s endured trails that would break most men, but remains a child.”) It never hurts to have a little faith…

Rock: Doctor Light?

Dr. Light: I want you to know, to always remember, that I am so proud of you. Both as Rock and as Mega Man. I could not be credited with a finer creation. And I could not be more honored to call you “son.”

Rock: Th-Thanks… Dad…

Both Rock and Dr. Light starts having tears of joy and hugs each other, feeling proud to be their family. And Roll starts having tears, too, seeing a heartfelt moment, and Rush barks happily.

Roll: Aww!~ This is a very sweet moment. (smiles and wipes her tears off)

Auto: Um… I really hate to ruin the moment, but there’s something you gotta see…

[All went to the room to see what’s on the TV. Suddenly…]

Dr. Cossack: Good evening, people of the world. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Doctor Cossack. You may not have heard of me, but soon the world will know my name. Over the years, Dr. Light has been hailed as the greatest robot designer in the world while my robotic creations have been ignored. I cannot allow this to continue. The world must be made aware of my genius! From my Siberian Citadel, I’ve sent eight of my Robot Masters to destroy that titanium troublemaker Mega Man. Once they’ve eliminated him, I will place his broken body on display for the entire world to see. Only then will I be allowed to take my place as the greatest robot designer of all time!

All: ……

Auto: Oh boy…

Rock: (facepalm) This… This is a nightmare…

Rush: whine…

Roll: This is EXACTLY like Dr. Wily all over again!

Dr. Light: Yes… Yes, it is. “Titanium Troublemaker” … “You always liked your alliteration”…

Rock: Dr. Light? Have you figured something out?

Dr. Light: No… But I have my suspicions. Mikhail is the humblest man I’ve ever met. This doesn’t sound like him at all. Nor would he do something so brazen and put Kalinka at risk. No… something is wrong with my friend.

Roll: But after everything Dr. Wily has done, no one is going to give him a chance! They’ll just assume he’s another evil roboticist!

Rock: His Robot Masters will come under attack. There’s nobody to stand between them and the people they might hurt… (changes into Mega Man) Looks like the world still needs Mega Man after all.

Dr. Light: I’m so sorry, son. Save my friend. Save his life’s work. Only you can do this.

Roll: I-I’ll try to call Kalinka and Tundra Man. See if they know what’s going on…

Auto: Woo! Go, Mega Man!

Eddie: (hops on Rush’s back and is willing to join the team)

Mega Man: You got activated at a crazy time, Eddie! Welcome to the team! Now let’s go save the world again!

Mega Man’s adventure is not over. Now, the heroes must figure out what drove Dr. Cossack to become a villain and save the world together.

As the events of Mega Man 4 begins, Mega Man along with Rush and Eddie went to Saint Petersburg, Russia, to head down into the Russian sewers where Toad Man is in the city of Stalingrad, which are dank, dirty, and dangerous. They made it into the Russian sewers and fought a lot Cossack’s bots (enemies). Mega Man, Rush, and Eddie finally arrived in the lair, and Toad Man, expecting that the Blue Bomber would come to stop him, tells him leave before he may attack that Mega Man would not like to know. Mega Man shows mercy and tells Toad Man that they don’t have to fight and that he can come with him peacefully. But Toad Man refuses to listen and rejects his mercy as he attacks him, using his Special Weapon called Rain Flush. A powerful chemical that is used as a weapon against anyone who opposes him.

Toad Man fires a capsule into the sky, which then creates an acid rainstorm that covers a wide area and can't be avoided. Mega Man along with Rush and Eddie got a bit damaged by Toad Man’s attack. Mega Man fires energy bullets, but Toad Man dodges as he hops very high. He then uses Rain Flush as his attack creates an acid rainstorm again. He dodged as he jumped when Rush attacked, but then was knocked down by Eddie, which allowed Mega Man to fire the finishing shot.

As Toad Man is defeated, Mega Man copies his weapon data and puts the Tele-Harness on Toad Man to teleport him to Light Labs, so that Dr. Light can be fixed and reprogram him back to normal. Now they got one down and seven more to go to stop Cossack’s seven Robot Masters (the 4th liners).

Mega Man, Rush, and Eddie are now heading to Russia’s power plant where Bright Man is. Mega Man beats many enemies that were causing trouble while Rush protects Eddie, making sure Eddie doesn’t get destroyed by one of the enemies.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Bright Man fires energy bullets against them, but Rush manages to save Mega Man and Eddie’s life as they all dodge from his attack. Rush points to where Bright Man is, and Mega Man tells Rush and Eddie to stay back. Mega Man tries to tell him that they don’t have to fight and end this battle peacefully, but Bright Man uses Flash Stopper, which causes Mega Man along with Rush and Eddie unable to move by an intense bright light. This allows Bright Man to hit and damage Mega Man.

As the Blue Bomber, Rush, and Eddie got freed from his attack, Mega Man uses Rain Flush to stop him, and it worked. Bright Man isn’t able to use his Special Weapon because of Rain Flush, due to his weakness. Mega Man charges Charge Shot and defeats him. Mega Man copies his weapon data and sends Bright Man to Light Labs to be fixed and back to normal. Eddie then gives Mega Man and Rush an E-Tank, and all three have recharged and ready for the next mission.

Mega Man, Rush, and Eddie arrive in Egypt where Pharaoh Man is attacking. They entered inside of the pyramid and fought through more enemies within the pyramid, while dodging spikes and bottomless pits. They finally arrive in the lair, but suddenly, Pharaoh Man fires his Pharaoh Shot at Mega Man. Pharaoh Man then shoots energy bullets to stop them, and then Rush runs towards him to attack as he dodges very quickly. But then Pharaoh Man manages to hit Rush with his Pharaoh Shot. Mega Man quickly uses Flash Stopper to stop Pharaoh Man from hurting Rush. As he uses Bright Man’s Special Weapon, Pharaoh Man is unable to move because of Flash Stopper, due to his weakness, and Mega Man defeats him with his Charge Shot.

Rush and Eddie walk towards Mega Man to check to see if they’re okay. Mega Man pets them and tells them that he’s okay. After they were having a wholesome moment for only seconds, Pharaoh Man wakes up and is back to his old self.

Pharaoh Man: (groans) R… Rock?

Mega Man: Pharaoh Man?! You’re awake already?

Pharaoh Man: Ow… Wha… What happened? Where are we?

Mega Man: It’s uh… kind of a long story… But don’t worry. Dr. Light can fix you, and I can save your brothers before they’ll bring more chaos. And Dr. Cossack… Do you remember what happened before you were reprogrammed?

Pharaoh Man: I… I remembered I was with my brothers, and then Mikhail was sad and then there was someone with him. I… can’t remember who it was, but I know it was someone who was forcing Mikhail to… (grunts) I don't know if it helps at all, but… I do remember something before I wasn’t myself… (grunts) My head… It was like a nightmare... I can try to remember more, but it’s making my headache even worse.

Mega Man: Just take it easy for a bit. After what you went through, you could use some rest.

Pharaoh Man: You’re right. Thank you, Mega Man… Are my brothers okay?

Mega Man: Bright Man and Toad Man are at Light Labs to be repaired and reprogrammed back to their old self. But five of your brothers are still roaming and attacking the city.

Pharaoh Man: What about Kalinka and Tundra Man…?

Mega Man: I don’t know. But I’ll save them if they are in danger. And I promise I’ll save your brothers and bring them home safe. I’ll try talking to your father to see if I can stop without fighting him. And hopefully, I’ll be able to find out who’s behind all of this. Because I know something’s wrong. Your father would never do this to you or your brothers for something so awful.

Pharaoh Man: Of course he wouldn’t! He would never do this… Mega Man, if you find someone who’s really behind all of this, stop them. Save my brothers. Save my father. Save Kalinka and Tundra Man if they’re in danger. Save the world!

Mega Man: I will. I promise.

Pharaoh Man: Here. Copy my powers. You’ll need it.

Mega Man: Cool! Thanks, Pharaoh Man.

As Mega Man copies Pharaoh Man’s Special Weapon, he sends him to Light Labs, and now Mega Man along with Rush and Eddie are heading to their next mission.

As they continued their mission, with Rush and Eddie’s help, Mega Man managed to defeat Ring Man with Pharaoh Shot. Next he defeats Dust Man with Ring Boomerang, and then Skull Man gets defeated by Mega Man using Dust Crusher. Dive Man has been defeated by Mega Man using Skull Barrier, and finally Mega Man beats Drill Man with Dive Missiles. The Blue Bomber managed to stop all eight Robot Masters (the 4th liners), copied their Special Weapons, and teleports them to Light Labs to be fix and back to be their old self.

With all eight Robot Masters defeated, Mega Man, Rush, and Eddie head back to Light Labs for repairs. Roll tells Dr. Light and Mega Man that Kalinka hasn’t called her back yet, but Tundra Man did. She asked if he knew what’s going on and why Dr. Cossack is planning to take over the world.

Tundra Man shows his concerns and has no idea why or what exactly. He asked if his siblings are okay, and Dr. Light replies that all of his brothers have been saved and needed repairs, but he then tells him that they don’t know where Kalinka is since she hasn’t respond yet.

Tundra Man is really worried and asks Mega Man to save Kalinka if she’s in danger. He even begs the Blue Bomber to spare Mikhail. He tells him that his father would never do something evil, nor would he hurt anyone. Mega Man tells Tundra Man not to worry because he’s gonna try to reason with him without fighting and promises him that he’ll save both Kalinka and his father. He also believes that there could be someone behind all of this madness and will figure out who’s forcing Dr. Cossack to be evil. Tundra Man thanked the Blue Bomber and tells him to be careful.

For a short time, Dr. Cossack has sent a message to Dr. Light and Mega Man, showing his fury at them. He gives them the location of his Fortress and challenges Mega Man to fight him, and just Mega Man. He then threatens to destroy Mega City if the Blue Bomber won’t come and face him. Dr. Light is really concerned about his friend, and Mega Man, Rush and Eddie are fully repaired and ready for action.

Mega Man, Rush, Eddie arrived in the Cossack Citadel and fought many enemies within Dr.Cossack’s fortress. Wily and Mikhail are watching Mega Man, Rush, and Eddie making their way through the stage. Wily is getting a little frustrated, claiming that maybe Mikhail’s eight Robot Masters could beat him but failed anyway. But he calms himself down a bit and tells Mikhail to get ready when Mega Man arrives. Mikhail, feeling the guilt and regret under his skin, hops onto his Cossack Catcher and waits for Mega Man’s arrival.

Meanwhile, while Wily is with Mikhail at the Cossack Citadel, Proto Man (also known as Blues) is at Wily’s 4th castle and is heading to the locked room to rescue Kalinka. He breaks the gate open, and takes Kalinka to her father. Reggae tried to stop him, but Proto Man knocked him out and they ran as quickly as they could to stop the fighting.

Kalinka: W-W-Where are you taking me?

Proto Man: I’m taking you to your father. We need to tell Mega Man about Wily before it’s too late. I can’t let Mega Man and Dr. Cossack get hurt because of me. I’m finally doing the right thing for once.

Kalinka: Y-You’re rescuing me?

Proto Man: Yes. I’m done working with Wily. I can’t just stand here and do nothing while Wily’s watching our family fighting each other because of his ego. I’m gonna send you and Dr. Cossack to safety, and I’ll help Mega Man to stop Wily for good. And I now know who I am… who I’m supposed to be.

Kalinka: (eyes sparkles) Trustworthy… T-Thank you! Thank you so much! I-

Proto Man: You can thank me later. Right now, let’s head to the Cossack Citadel.

As both Proto Man and Kalinka teleport to the Cossack Citadel, Mega Man and Dr. Cossack have already begun the battle. The two battle, and just as Mega Man was about to defeat Dr. Cossack in the Cossack Catcher, Proto Man appears with Kalinka and tells them to stop fighting. Mega Man and Dr. Cossack stopped their fight when Proto Man saved Kalinka and reunited her with her father.

Dr. Cossack: Kalinka! Thank goodness you’re alright!

Kalinka: Poppa! (hugs her father) I was so scared and worried. (sobs)

Dr. Cossack: I’m so sorry, Kalinka. I’m so sorry.

Mega Man: Blues? What are you doing here?

Proto Man: I had to bring Kalinka to her father and to stop this fight. Wily tricked you and brought you here to hurt Dr. Cossack.

Mega Man: Wait, Dr. Wily?! He’s alive?! And… this whole thing was his plan all along?!

Kalinka: It’s true! Wily took me hostage and forced my father to fight you. He made him do this, and he was gonna hurt me if Poppa won’t follow his orders.

Mega Man: No way… Why would you do this, Wily…?

Dr. Cossack: Blues, you… you rescued my daughter… Thank you.

Proto Man: I had to do what is right. I’m sorry I put your daughter in danger because of me… I-

[Suddenly, enraged Wily steps out of the shadows and yells at Proto Man that he betrayed him.]

Dr. Wily: YOU LITTLE RED BASTARD!!! How dare you betray me?! You ruined my plans!

Proto Man: And YOU lied to me about my core! There was no nuclear inside of me! You only said that to control me and get what you wanted!

Dr. Wily: ?!… I… You-

Proto Man: I’m done working with you, Wily! And I’m not your puppet anymore! I’m doing the one good thing in my life now.

Dr. Wily: UGH! Fine! Go fight alongside Mega Brat for all I cared! You betrayed me and ruined my plan anyway! And Mega Man, I’ll turn you into scraps myself! And this time, I’ll win! Meet me in my Fortress, and I’ll be waiting for you! So, come if you dare, Mega Man! You too, Break Man!

[Wily teleports away to his 4th castle]

Proto Man: …It’s Proto Man now, Wily.

Mega Man: Proto Man?

Proto Man: Yes. That’s… also my name. (gives Mikhail a Teleport Harness) Here. Put this on. I’ll send you and your daughter to Light Labs. You’ll be safe there.

Dr. Cossack: But… What about you and Mega Man?

Proto Man: Don’t worry. Mega Man and I will handle Wily. He won’t be able to beat both of us.

Dr. Cossack: All right. Mega Man? Proto Man? Good luck. Make sure you give Wily a bad time.

Kalinka: Be careful!

Mega Man: We will. We’ll stop Wily for good.

[Dr. Cossack and Kalinka teleported away to Light Labs, and now it’s Mega Man and Proto Man who will stop Wily.]

Mega Man: Proto Man… I’m glad you’re here with us.

Proto Man: (smiles) Me too. Let’s head to Wily’s Fortress and stop him.

Rush: Bark! Bark!

Eddie: (hops on Rush’s back and ready for action)

Mega Man: Let’s do this.

As Proto Man alongside Mega Man, Rush and Eddie are now in Wily’s fourth castle as they fight their way through the enemies. As they finally arrive at the final stage, Wily appears with his Wily Machine 4. They begin to battle, and Wily fires everything he got with his Wily Machine 4. But Wily wasn’t able to win against the two sons of Dr. Light. Mega Man and Proto Man work together as a team and have each other’s back, fighting together against Wily, and after a long fight, they manage to destroy the Wily Machine and defeat Wily. But after the battle is over, Wily escapes through a trapdoor and the fortress starts collapsing.

Mega Man and Proto Man along with Rush and Eddie teleport away before Wily’s fourth castle is about to explode. As the heroes teleported on top of a Russian train, they see Wily flies away in his UFO and his fortress explodes with a massive mushroom cloud skull in the distance. Wily got away again, but the heroes saved the day and will be ready if Wily strikes back again someday.

Mega Man thanked Proto Man for helping him to stop Wily, and rescued Kalinka for Dr. Cossack and her brothers. He then asks if Proto Man is coming home with him. Proto Man responds “No. Not yet. I’ll come home when I’m ready.” Mega Man understood. He then tells his older brother to be safe out there and thanked him again. Proto Man nods and then whistles his tune as he teleports away. Mega Man, Rush and Eddie returned home to their family.

The ending showed all eight Robot Masters (the 4th liners) are fixed and back to normal. Mikhail and Kalinka are safe and happy to see each other, knowing that they’re safe and reunited. And then an ice Robot Master named “Tundra Man”, who is Dr. Cossack’s ninth robot master, came in to see his family. Tundra Man rushed in and hugged his family. He was so worried about them, but he’s relieved to know that his family is safe thanks to Mega Man and Proto Man/Blues. Tundra Man thanked Dr. Light and Mega Man for saving his family’s life.

Kalinka asks Mega Man where Proto Man is. She wanted to thank him for what he did, and Mega Man responded not to worry. Proto Man is still out there and one day, he’ll come home soon to reunite with his family. The story ends with Dr. Light smiling, knowing that Proto Man/Blues became a hero and is on the good side now. And Mega Man along with Rush, Eddie, Roll, Kalinka and Dr. Cossack are outside looking at the beautiful landscape and watching the sunset together.

To be continued in Mega Man 5

[theinvisibledreamergirl]

She’s thunderstorms

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Helena Craig) x M!OC (Clay Banner)

Words count: 2.5 k

Warning: 🔞 content/Language

Category: Angst/AU

A.N: Part two of A Triangle of Love Series. Events after the Sweet dreams, TN fic. Helen is the alter ego of Klaw Craig. Feel free to judge me because now that I’m re-reading it… it’s bullshit and I don’t know what to call this. Especially the song it’s not fitting duhhh. Going to log off after posting it. *sighs*

Song: “She’s thunderstorms” - Arctic Monkeys

MASTERLIST

———————————————————————

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms

Bryce Lahela was right.

She’s like a goddess that entered to this building and blessed my life when I made eye contact with her.

Indeed a blessing.

She was the most incredible woman and everyone would take a bow just for her hand and fulfill all the wishes she wanted.

He couldn’t feel his breath in that short moment when they exchanged looks. Did someone pause his heart and his body? Because surely he had multiple questions as his mind drifted into thoughts.

When did she come here? How did she find him? Where did she work before coming here? Is she alone? But if not, who was with her? The hair colour and style had changed too. From the straight dark brown with bangs had gone into long, wavy light ash blonde hair that seemed to make her a different person.

But her face was still like he left it. Her arched brows that made her confident; captivating eyes with determination; full and inviting lips that always gave him chills when she crooked them into a playful smirk; her strong and beautiful jaw that tilted whenever he teased her or touched with such delicacy that made her gasp into pleasure; her long neck… without his necklace. He almost scoffed. Of course she had taken it off. What was he expecting?

Their bodies pining in the wall in ecstasy and hearing her sounds...

I’ve been feeling foolish, you should try it

She came and substituted the peace and quiet for

Acrobatic blood, flow concertina

Cheating heartbeat, rapid fire

Everything.

He wanted to do everything.

Anytime and anywhere.

With her and only her.

When he saw her hand shaking with another one... he felt a pit into his stomach and a familiar feeling came into his brain.

Mine.

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms

Here is your host, sounds as if she’s pretty close

When the heat starts growing horns

She’s thunderstorms

That greatly but destructive feeling called jealousy was in his veins. He wanted to reach out and twirl her around and to whisper to her:

I’m sorry and I really missed you.

Instead he came with slow and confident steps as if his imagination vanished quickly without so noticing and a small professional smile appeared in his face and she seemed to understand it. One more reason why he loves her.

“Ah Clay here you are,” Simon spoke breaking his trip of memory lane. “I want to present you Dr. Helena Craig the surgeon who’s going to replace Edgar for a while. Helen this is Dr. Clay Banner our future cardiothoracic surgeon.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Dr. Banner… I have heard a lot about you.” It seemed like a lifetime since he had heard her angelic voice that was a symphony in his ears. He held his tears from falling and coughed to fight the strangle voice that was about to let out.

“A pleasure to meet you too Dr. Craig and I can say the same thing about you.”

Something inside of Helen was igniting.

Her flame.

That old flame which burnt her into many pieces and toyed with her body all of those times sharing with him. She couldn’t say that she didn’t miss him. The real him. The one she fell in love with. His adoring face, his soft hands, his broad shoulders where she leaned on and his assuring voice when she felt insecure.

She had mastered perfectly the art of acting and pretending to be satisfied with everything in her life. Little did those people in the room know how her heart was aching miserably and was shattering from disappointment and hurt from the very same man that was just two feet away.

But a baritone and irritating voice seemed to cut off all of that momentary darkness which in fact she thanked him in silence. “Done with the introductions? Great. We’ve got work to do.” Ethan turned his back and started to write in the whiteboard. “The patient is from Manhattan Presbyterian…”

While Ethan was explaining the symptoms, Helen held a transfixed face to all of the theories of her attending and unexpectedly to other colleagues, she started to ask questions which resulted helpful despite being a surgeon. Sometimes she shared thoughts with Clay and even agreeing with them. It was part of the job after all and Clay couldn’t help but feel proud for his woman.

Correction: his ex.

A past tense that he had to learn from now on. But deep inside of him there was a spark of hope that maybe… maybe things would get back to normal. And maybe she would forgive him.

The team was finally dismissed but only two people stayed. Ethan called Helen before she would leave and that made Clay’s blood boiled because all he wanted was to talk to her right after this meeting. He had to try one last card even though it was useless.

“Dr. Ramsey can we talk for a moment?”

“Is there anything wrong Dr. Banner?”

“No j-just,” he stuttered. “Q-questions about the team in general.”

“We will but after I finish a discussion with Dr. Craig if you don’t mind.”

Fuck you.

“Not at all Sir.” He closed the door reluctantly and sighed in defeat.

“What’s the matter Dr. Ramsey?” She asked although she knew damn well why he had called her.

“What are you doing here?” Ethan clasped his fingers as if to stop whatever his mind was blowing now. His ears were still echoing with her words whispering softly.

Thank you for the distraction. I really needed it.

“Starting my job,” she said innocently and shrugged. “Is it irrelevant?”

“Yes, it is,” he nodded and his feet was carrying him over her; something inevitable that no matter what, he couldn’t stop. “I don’t think all of this is a coincidence.”

“Well lucky for you now you’ll have the most trustworthy person in your team that won’t let you down.”

He scoffed while shaking his head. “I highly doubt your confidence.”

“Just wait and see.”

I’ve already seen you.

After their encounter last night Ethan couldn’t sleep. Many times of trying to change and find the perfect position led to nothing but drinking in the balcony that even his dog Jenner didn’t like it and cooed sadly to his owner. What was this woman doing to him? Why he felt so weak in front of her that immediately wanted to bend her over to his desk and scream his name?

“So,” she crossed her arms behind her waist. “How was I?”

He frowned in confusion and god she thought to herself why he had to be such handsome even in that moment. “Hm?”

“In making you feel surprised.”

“Ah that. Well you’ve clearly exceeded my expectations.”

“Wow. So I rendered you speechless then.”

Giggles were ringing in the walls and for the first time in a while Ethan Ramsey smiled at that. It was something so natural that came from her as other people didn’t get his dry humour but she... she was different. It was like a magnet that more and more you get closer, the more attached you become to her.

She’s been loop-the-looping around my mind

Her motorcycle boots give me this kind of

Acrobatic blood, concertina

Cheating heartbeat, rapid fire

He cleared his throat in purpose of changing the subject. “The reason why I called you,” he put his hand in his front pocket to reveal a tiny and shining object that seemed familiar to her. “Does this belong to you?

“Oh my god yes! This is my earring!” Helen exclaimed shockingly while grazing it with her thumb. Apparently had slipped when she whispered in his ear. “I was looking it all over my room but I couldn’t find it anywhere.” Her gaze now was turned back to him in gratefulness. “Thank you.”

Without thinking she closed their distance by enveloping him into a hug. This caught Ethan off guard but now he returned the hug back and closed his eyes while inhaling her perfume. She did the same too and in that moment both of them felt safe on each other’s arms as if they knew where they belonged. The world around them didn’t exist for a few seconds and both of them despite not saying out loud, they wanted to continue it.

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms

“It’s nothing.” He smiled politely when they separated.

“No this is not nothing. I owe you because this earring was really special to me.” She inhaled slowly while considering an option. Taking some risk wouldn’t hurt her? Right? “What do you say uhm- a drink? In this case I can apologise for yesterday’s… thing.”

“You have nothing to apologise for.”

“Sure I have, because to be completely honest Dr. Ramsey… I knew who you were.”

And here he thought that she was just another stranger that thankfully didn’t know him. Now he was feeling raged and betrayed because that meant she wanted to impress him only by her appearance and make a spot here on his team. His authoritative voice came back as if to maintain the last straw of himself.

“You did know who were you talking to?”

“Yeah I did. Now I’m speaking to my attending,” she moved tantalising and confidently just like yesterday. “To my colleague. And,” then tilted her chin while saying. “To a possible friend.”

“For the latter dream on.” He warned her.

She laughed heartedly. “We’ll meet at Donahue’s at 9 PM sharply and don’t be late because I can’t wait more than two minutes.”

His eyebrows narrowed incredulously and crossed his arms to his chest. “I don’t remember accepting your offer. And besides… how do you know my agenda? What if I’m busy?”

“Well I don’t remember taking a no answer from you and I’ve got my sources about your special agenda.” She shrugged innocently. “See you tonight doctor.”

The door was closed but not before throwing a playful wink to him. He let out a laugh while shaking his head in disbelief. This woman was really crazy but it was one of a kind and Ethan Ramsey couldn’t wait to know more about her.

——————————————

Helen wasn’t surprised to see him waiting impatiently in the corner while she was talking with Dr. Ramsey.

What was so important that took them this long? He thought.

Actually that was only five minutes but to him it seemed like five hours already. When she got out he couldn’t help but stare at her not knowing where to start first.

“Helen.”

“Dr. Banner,” the plastered smile didn’t leave her face despite being furious and ready to wipe his ass in front of everyone. “You can go now to Dr. Ramsey. He’s free.”

“Actually, can we talk?” She rolled her eyes. “I won’t make you wait too much. I promise.”

Helen whispered only for the two of them to hear. “You and your promises,” a tackle of her tongue was heard twice. “Aren’t in coherence. I don’t know why should I listen to you. Let me guess- I’m sorry my Helen but I had to step in you to gain my spot here in Edenbrook thanks to my parents who are very powerful and influential people in Boston.”

“I-”

“I’m not finished,” her hardened gaze was evident and he knew he had to stop. “Or how you accepted without so much caring not one but two strange women in your bed while you were fucking drunk. That must’ve been a fruitful threesome huh? Why didn’t you try with a boy too? That would’ve been the cherry on top.” Her words were poisonous and she thought he deserved much worse than these. “Or how your mother has always tried to make me feel miserable in front of everyone when you did absolutely nothing to stop it. Not even moving your finger.”

In an unusual place, when you’re feeling far away

She does what the night does to the day

She was right about everything. He couldn’t disagree with any of the words she said. Helen Craig was rarely found to be wrong.

“I think that our conversation ends here Dr. Banner.”

He grabbed her elbow without thinking twice for his recklessness and made her narrow her eyes in annoyance. “Tonight at Donahue’s bar 9 o’clock and I will explain you everything.”

“Get off me or I’ll scream.” She warned dangerously.

“We both know you can’t.” Clay had no idea where this was leading but he could see the fire into her eyes. “You wouldn’t want people to find out that you had a boyfriend working here huh?”

Look at this prick starting to talk.

“Well well do you need a reminder that my father and my brother can make you beg for your life again?”

The last encounter with the Craig males was one year ago when they found out that this jerk had dumped the most precious thing of their family. Patrick Craig was the first to reach for the drawer to load his gun just in case whereas Brian her brother made sure to find Clay’s location with his advanced knowledge of technology. The end resulted in a bloody and a harsh fight between them and warning the latter to not come any centimeter closer to Helen. And the scar on his neck was still visible after that time.

“That happened once. It can’t happen again,” he grasped her out of his hand. “I’ll be waiting.”

With that he left the ultimatum settled in her hands and keeping it until 9 PM. Helen stayed still like someone had glued her in a position that she couldn’t escape.

She wouldn’t go.

No.

She wouldn’t hear him again and believe his words. But there was such a confidence in his voice that made her scared. Thanks to that she felt the anxiety rising up and panic for what was about to come.

She could easily cancel the plans with Dr. Ramsey and not go to that bar. But when she met him yesterday it felt something different with that share of eye contact.

Despite being half-drunk and exhausted from her flight he had made her forgetting all of her plans and the reason why she came in Boston. It was entirely a new world, a new dimension that she hadn’t explored yet and was eager to find more about this man.

It was unethical but did she care? Not in the slightest. Helen was ambitious and she definitely would possess it. She had to think of a plan how to sabotage this whole thing but how?

The choice she had to make was like a ticking bomb that in one way or another, was going to blast.

She’s thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She’s thunderstorms, thunderstorms, thunderstorms

—————————————————————-

TAGS WILL APPEAR IN A REBLOG!

[crystalessenceswrites]

Shadows- Chapter Five

Shadows

A modern monster AU Pairings: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: Swearing Summary: Crypto- concealed; secret. You have always lived your life in the shadows; after all, you’re one of the creatures who go bump in the night. He has sworn his life to a creed that aims to protect the world from monsters like you.

[Masterlist] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] Cross-posted to AO3

Din’s head is spinning and he’s certain it’s not from the blow Qin landed earlier. Half-bloods? Cryptos? Slayers who hunt them? How had his people not stumbled upon this before now? Generations of Mandalorian warriors had fought and given their lives to protect humans from the monsters lurking in dark corners, yet there was a whole system they had missed. A whole kind of people they had not known were possible.

That would explain why he had such trouble determining what (Y/N) was. If she was a half-blood it would make sense she appeared more human than the typical monster masquerading as such. That did not make her human though. She was still one of them. Din could not let himself forget that.

Silently he watches her finish up with the burning body. It seems routine to her. She’s also well prepared, the thistles and the gas, not to mention armed to the teeth. Following their previous encounters, the last thing Din was expecting her to be carrying was a firearm. Yet she’d managed to stun a vampire with one shot. She knew what she was doing. If there were more slayers half as skilled as her how had they gone under the radar all this time?

And why hadn’t she tried to kill him?

It kept playing over and over again in his mind. That night at the dive bar her companion was more than hostile. She had sounded more than willing to get rid of him. But (Y/N) defused it. Both opportunities she’d had to kill him, she’d ignored. Instead, she had explained herself, given him insight into what she was. She wanted him to understand her. More than once she had compared what they both did- claimed they were both protecting humans. Could he believe that? Could he believe her? Believe someone who wasn’t human?

She looks up at him, eyes soft despite the fact she has a vampire’s body burning to ash at her feet. Deadly and yet she looks so normal in that moment. “Do you…uh, need any of him to take back?”

The confusion must be plain as day on his face as the corner of her lips quirk up.

“We have to bring something back as proof of death,” she explains, “I take it you guys don’t need that?”

“No.”

That explains all her supplies then. It also goes to show how organized this group is, tracking their kills, bounties, and all under the radar of his people. Din tries to ignore how impressed he is by it all.

The innate weakness vampires hold to fire means their bodies breakdown to ash considerably quicker and at lower temperature than a human body. It’s not long till Qin is just a pile of dust on the warehouse floor. He watches in mild curiosity as the slayer collects some of the ashes into a spare jar before scattering the rest with her boot. The bloodsucker would not be bothering anyone again.

(Y/N) shifts from foot to foot, watching him closely. “So…all good?”

They shouldn’t be. He should not be letting her leave a third time- it went against every bit of training they’d drilled into him- but she stepped in to help him. He couldn’t kill her after she’d done that. Or after all she had told him. That would make him just as much a monster.

Her shoulders relax as he nods. For a moment it looks like there’s another question hanging on the tip of her tongue, but she decides against it. She shoots him a small smile as she walks away, disappearing back into the darkness of the warehouse.

Din wonders what the fuck he’s doing as he lets her go.

.

Even after a quick stop at the covert infirmary on his way back Din still finds himself plagued by the events of the day. He kicks himself for letting her walk away, but the thought of killing her is almost revolting. Was it because he knew that some part, no matter how small, of her was human? Because she had helped him? Or because it was her?

Excited squeals pull him from his spiraling thoughts the moment he opens the front door. In seconds the wide-eyed ball of four-year-old energy has barreled up to him, chubby hands clinging to his pant leg for dear life.

“Hey, kid. Good to see you too.”

Din gets a toothy smile in return before he runs back off again to return to what looks like coloring at the dining table with Kuiil.

“He has grown very attached to you, these last few months.”

Din cannot disagree with Kuiil, the kid was quick to latch onto him when he returned home from his hunts and often would not go to bed at night unless he was there to say goodnight.

“Will you take him as your foundling?” The old man has been asking him that since the day he brought the young child back to the covert.

“We’re still looking for his family. There must be people out there who miss him.”

Kuiil continues to watch the child, a soft hum falling from underneath his thick beard. Din can see the wheels turning in the old man’s mind. He always had an air of wisdom about him, an air that led one to believe that deep down Kuiil did hold all the answers, if only he could uncover them. Even Armorer came to the man for advice. While he was not a Mandalorian, he was a friend of the covert and had been with them for several years now. He often helped look after the kid when Din was out hunting, and he wasn’t in class in the other foundlings.

“Maybe so, but he is here now, in your care. You have a choice to make, now or in the future. But you still must make one.”

Din agrees with a sigh, collapsing into the seat next to the kid, watching his grubby hands drag crayons across his coloring book.

“How was the hunt?”

“It was a success.”

“But?” Not only wise, but he was a perceptive old man.

“The slayer appeared again.”

“And I take it she left this encounter alive again?”

Din nods, his face solemn as Kuiil continues to help the child with his coloring.

“Did you learn anything new?”

He had almost learned more than he wanted to. “She claims to be a half-blood.”

“Half-human? Is that why you could not harm her?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“She has shaken you- you don’t know what to do with this new information.” The old man speaks as if it is an already known fact. Din would be remiss to say he was wrong. Knowing this now, he sees her both as a monster and a human, both someone he is sworn to destroy and sworn to protect by his creed.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“That she is half-human or that you are conflicted?”

Din scoffs, “both.”

“They have existed here as long as we have, among us in the most cases. It should not be a surprise that we have crossed paths before,” Kuiil shrugs, “the situation of her birth probably gives her advantages in her work.”

If she could blend in with both sides it would allow her to keep a lower profile. He could not even determine what species she was, that was proof enough she did not struggle to blend in with humans. She wore her mask well.

“As for your creed… that is another decision you’ll have to make for yourself.”

Kuiil’s wise words rattle around in his skull as he watches the kid totter around in the garden, arms outstretched as he chases another frog around. If their running track record meant anything he would run into her again, and he would have to make a choice. He just wished the right answer would make itself known before then.

“Ba!”

Din cannot help but smile at the proud kid as he runs up, the frog in his hold out on display. He was a quick little bugger, that was for sure. “Well look at that, little hunter in training.”

“Ya!” The little one waves his hands around happily, grin spread across his chubby cheeks.

It amazes him how quickly the kid had bounced back after everything he had been through. There were days it did not even cross Din’s mind that he’d rescued the child from the monsters who kidnapped him. He was happy, got along with all the other children in the covert and did well in his classes, even with his limited verbal skills. Well adjusted, is what the doctor had said.

“Ba!” The kid reaches up, grabby hands flailing.

“Alright, alright,” Din hoists the boy up, “should we get something to eat? Besides frogs?”

“Patu!”

.

“And here I thought you hated vampire jobs.”

Kannan looks almost smug as he watches you finish up exchanging paperwork for the reward on your most recent kill. Rolling your eyes, you stuff the check into your bag, “wasn’t like I had much of a choice with the lists today.”

“True.”

“So, did you need something, or did you just stick around to tease me?”

Kannan scoffs, “well I was gonna ask if you wanted to catch up over food but if that’s the attitude you’re going to take…”

“Where’s your apprentice today?” The teen was attached to Kannan’s hip these days, eager to get out in the field.

“He’s got his studies today, why?”

“Then food sounds like a great idea.” It had been sometime since you’d had a real chance to catch up with your old friend. He took his roles as Ezra’s mentor seriously, so he was rather booked up these days.

Kannan shoots you a satisfied grin, “the diner on 4th?”

Your stomach nearly growls at the thought. “Please.”

.

“I have to agree with Kira. You are a magnet for Mandalorians- or at least this one.”

You sigh, scrubbing a hand down your face. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this.”

Kannan chuckles, “since when has the universe needed a reason to screw us over?”

“You’ve got a point… I just can’t get over the odds. Three times in completely unrelated spots.” It was a large city and of all the people in the world you had to keep running into.

“There hasn’t been anyone else in the office who’s run into him. Are you sure he’s not tracking you?”

“This time I stumbled onto him, there’s no way he could have orchestrated that when I picked up the job this morning.” He obviously had not been planning on your arrival. You’d spooked him good.

Kannan shakes his head, “well you are simultaneously the unluckiest and luckiest person I know. You’ve gotten away three times now.”

You preferred to think it was due more to your skills and sharp tongue than luck, but the luck certainly was not hurting.

“It still worries me he knows your face. Even if he hasn’t been tracking you up till now it doesn’t mean he won’t try in the future.”

He had a point, but nothing about your interactions with Mando up till now would you lead you to believe he would. “I’m keeping my eye out for anything suspicious. If he does try, I’ll know. Hopefully, the fact that I know what he looks like deters him from trying.”

“We can hope.”

“I also think I figured out why we haven’t been able to find his local source in the community.”

Kannan’s eyebrows shoot up, “and how did you figure that out?”

“He asked me why I hadn’t killed him yet. Mentioned something about how my job was to deal with nuisances, so therefore I must have to kill him to get him out of the way,” you explain, “there’s no way he’s working with a crypto if that’s what he thinks slayers do. After the Fett debacle everyone around here knows we can’t do a damn thing about the Mandalorians.”

“That does sound like he’s either got old, secondhand information or his informant is messing with him. But I can’t imagine if he managed to get a full blood to help him, they’d yank him around like that,” Kannan strokes his goatee, face drawn together, “yet he’s been spot on with all his kills. He tracked down someone you pulled the bounty for before you’d even gotten there.”

“Could he be working with another hunter or have another Mandalorian partner? Someone who manages surveillance while he does the hunting?”

“It would seem the only other likely answer. Have you told Boss all this yet?”

You shake your head, “no, I don’t want to get ahead of myself… and I’m not sure what kind of reaction I’ll get once he knows I’ve crossed paths with the Mando again…”

“You haven’t told him?” Kannan goes wide-eyed, “Miss. By-The-Book not reporting a run in with a hunter?”

“Sue me for being worried about the perception of it all!”

“Chill, I’m not going to rat you out, (Y/N). I just want you to make sure you’re going to be okay. That you’re thinking this through.”

“I am thinking it through, Kannan. And if something important comes from it I’ll report it to Boss, but for now I’d rather keep this to myself.”

Kannan nods, “I trust your judgement. My lips are sealed.”

“Okay, enough about me and my drama! Tell me how things have been going for you and Hera lately!”

[kestrelmando]

Open Water -  Prologue

Shakarian (Garrus Vakarian x femShepard)

Warnings: Canon typical violence, language, canonical major character death

Summary:  No Geth activity, no sign of the Reapers…She was frustrated that the Council and the Alliance weren't doing everything they could to prepare. They'd look into it, they'd send out a team to confirm what kind of tech it was that attacked the Citadel…Of course, it didn't matter that she and her entire team told them—repeatedly—that it was the Reapers. It had only been a week since the team was cleared from Huerta Memorial Hospital and already the higher-ups were already circling and denying.

Notes: Revamped and reposted. Basic background; Adrian Shepard, Earthborn, Sole Survivor, Paragade, Vanguard. I do call my Shepard by her first name frequently. Some mentions and short descriptions of previous Shepard/Kaidan but mostly Shepard/Garrus. Will cover ME2 pretty faithfully and some of ME3 before taking a left turn.

 ----

Commander Adrian Shepard's foot was asleep. She inwardly cursed her habit of sitting on her foot and gingerly set it back on the floor, trying to ignore the odd sensation of pins and needles dancing across her skin. Her eyes felt bleary and dry; she was finishing her fifth report of the morning. No Geth activity, no sign of the Reapers…not a single nonorganic piece of shit she could let out her frustrations on. This was not a good day. She was frustrated that the Council and the Alliance weren't doing everything they could to prepare. They'd look into it, they'd send out a team to confirm what kind of tech it was that attacked the Citadel…Of course, it didn't matter that she and her entire team told them—repeatedly—that it was the Reapers. It had only been a week since the team was cleared from Huerta Memorial Hospital and already the higher-ups were circling and denying.

She glanced sideways at the clock sitting on her desk; Kaidan would be done with his rounds by now. Things had been…different. They had flirted all through the time they chased Saren across the galaxy and it had culminated in one night of stress-relieving sex. She cared about him, it was true, but she suspected that night meant more to him than it did to her. To her, he was a by-the-book pristine soldier and man. She was, well, not. It had been fun and she was open to seeing where it went but Shepard couldn’t shake the thought that she would always be Commander Shepard to him.

The LT had taken up some of Ashley’s duties, helping to maintain the armory and keep their gear in good working condition. After their night together en route to Ilos, Kaidan had seemed to let his guard down a bit. They enjoyed meals together in the mess and talking about their plans. He was always wary of spending too much time in her cabin, always aware this was an Alliance ship and there were regulations to be followed. She was glad that most of her crew had decided to stay aboard the Normandy, if only for a little while longer. Wrex had gone to Tuchanka to try to merge the clans and Tali was being dropped off at the Flotilla within the next couple of days. Garrus was headed to the Citadel to apply to be a Spectre within the week and Liara was going to publish her research about the Protheans when she returned to Illium. Most of the team had decided to go on one last mission, one last Geth killing spree. Except there are no Geth to be found.

A sudden scream jerked Shepard into an upright position, the datapad she was holding clattered to the floor. She started to stand when an explosion rocked the Normandy. Shepard was thrown onto the floor of her cabin; all the air in her lungs pushed out with a hard grunt. Adrian lay still for a moment, straining to hear. The sudden quiet was shattered by the shrill blare of the Normandy's alarms; they were under attack. She scrambled to her feet and ripped her armor off the table it had been resting on. She hastily snapped it into place, grabbed her helmet, raced out of the cabin, and rounded the corner to the rest of the crew deck. Possible scenarios were flying through her head but when she saw the damage all the probable answers disappeared. Flames that had already consumed the sleeping pods were rapidly spreading towards the mess—no ship had the technology to do this much damage to the ship from one hit. Shit. The console to activate the distress beacon was down the gangway to the sleeper pods. Adrian tried to remember where she could find a fire extinguisher. Another blast hit the Normandy and Shepard sprinted towards the elevator to avoid the sudden flash of fire.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday—this is SSV Normandy, we're under attack from an unknown vessel!" Joker called from above.

Shepard threw her back against the elevator doors, flattening herself as much as possible as flames licked around the mess tables. A sudden thump from the other side of the elevator doors made Shepard jump. Her comm crackled, "—pard….elevator—"

Dread filled her stomach and she slammed her palm against the emergency override button by the doors. She heard the locks groaning but not giving. Part of her crew was stuck in the elevator. Shepard's fingers flew across her omni-tool, trying to hack through the elevator's locks. Damn, she needed an engineer.

"Shepard!" Adrian whipped around to see Tali coming out of the infirmary, followed closely by Doctor Chakwas, whose arm had a long burn from shoulder to elbow. Tali's helmet was smeared with ash, her many veils charred and blackened.

Adrian felt her heart quiver; Tali and Chakwas were safe. Shepard closed the distance between them quickly and grasped Tali's elbow, "Tali—I need you to get this elevator unlocked, there are people stuck in it. After that, you and Chakwas get everyone to the escape shuttles."

Tali nodded and began working on the lock. Shepard then remembered; there were fire extinguishers in the medbay and the elevator. She began to head towards the medbay when Chakwas grabbed her arm, "There is too much fire back there!"

"Here, catch!"

Shepard turned to Tali's call and caught the small extinguisher. The engineering crew poured out the elevator followed by Garrus, who was pulling his helmet onto his head.

"Tali, Garrus—get them to the escape shuttles."

"We won't leave you." Garrus replied shortly.

"That wasn't a request."

Adrian turned and began to fight her way through the fiery hall that led to the emergency console. She peered over her shoulder to see Garrus and Tali looking after her before they both turned and began to usher people to the exit. The sleeper pods were twisted and blackened. She reached the console and, thankfully, it was still intact. Her hands flew over the holographic keyboard; Omega Nebula…Amada System…Unknown Enemy. She could hear footsteps behind her as she reached for her helmet and jammed it on her head.

“Shepard!"

She cursed. Everyone on the Normandy knew the procedure for emergencies like this. No one should be seeking her out. Kaidan watched her hit the final keys to send their distress call, "Will the Alliance get here in time?"

The console blinked out, "I'm not doing this just so that can find frozen corpses. We just need to give them time. Get everyone onto the escape shuttles."

The Normandy rocked again, sending Kaidan sprawling into the wall. Shepard dug her fingers into the console.

“Joker is still in the cockpit, he won't abandon ship. I'm not leaving either."

God damnit. "Get to the damn shuttles! I'll haul Joker's ass out of here!" Shepard snarled.

Kaidan paused, "Shepard…”

She shoved him away, hard, "Get the hell out of here!"

The set of his shoulders was tense but he complied, turning on his heel and heading towards the escape pods.

Shepard turned and ran back down the short hall and around the mess to the stairs leading to the bridge. A fire raged on one of the stairs and Shepard turned her face away from the flames. She raced up the curved steps to the bridge and stopped short when the door slide open. The Normandy's hull was nearly in half and the ceiling was gone. Shepard looked up. She was briefly thankful that her boots were magnetically sealed and proceeded to make her way to the cockpit. Joker's hands were flying furiously over the holographic keyboard and various screens.

She leaned in, "Come on Joker, we have to get out of here."

"No, I can still save her!"

Shepard bit her cheek to keep her voice calm, "The Normandy is lost, going down with the ship won't change that. Don't throw your life away."

Joker paused, then turned to look at her, "Yeah…ok. Help me up." Adrian had gently grasped his shoulder when he stiffened, "Shit, they're coming around for another attack!"

She braced herself against Joker's seat and ground her teeth together as the energy beam tore through the bridge. They had to get off the Normandy. Now. Not waiting, Shepard snatched Joker's forearm, not even wincing when she heard a loud crack, and hauled him to his feet. He hissed, face contorting in pain, but said nothing. Shepard tried to lower him as gently as she could into the cockpit's emergency shuttle when another explosion caused her to lose her footing. Shitshitshit. Her boots lost contact with the floor and she suddenly found herself floating.

"Commander!"

Her hands frantically slid along the smooth siding of the Normandy, looking for some kind of purchase—something she could grab onto when she managed to grab the corner next to the secondary emergency shuttle controls. She weighed her options and threw a glance over her shoulder. The ship was coming back and there was no way she could make it back to the shuttle before it destroyed her and Joker.

She looked at him. He squinted before realizing where she was, what she was going to do. He shook his head hysterically, "No! Shepard!"

Adrian hit the override and sealed his shuttle, sending it hurtling away from the Normandy. She tried to ignore his screams, his voice begging her to let him die with her. When the enemy ship fired on the Normandy again, Shepard closed her eyes and waited, she'd seen Sovereign shred enough ships. She didn't want to see the Normandy go down. The explosion knocked her away from the ship and she was rained with debris. She cried out when something heavy slammed into the base of her spine and sucked in a breath, trying to control the pain, even as her legs feebly jerked in protest. Shepard was floating away from the wreck and realized that she was heading towards a planet. I'm going to die, she thought numbly.

The Normandy exploded and she tried to ignore the constant spikes of pain as more debris hit her – until something punctured the tube to her oxygen supply. Shepard froze. Please, I don't want to suffocate. She would rather be consumed in the planet's atmosphere. Oxygen was hissing out of her supply and she frantically pressed her hands against it to try to stem the flow, body contorting. It was no good. Pain bloomed in her chest, as though her lungs were tearing themselves apart, and her heart raced ahead frantically seeking oxygen. Shepard stopped, realizing it futile, and turned her gaze towards what was left of the Normandy. Then suddenly everything slowed; her heart, her blood, her brain. Through her darkening vision, the escape shuttles looked like tiny shooting stars. The icy planet loomed ahead and Shepard knew no more.

---

Drifting, falling

 Floating, weightless

 Coming home.

[harringrovetrashrat]

hi, you take requests, right? Mind if I make one? Something post season 3. In my head, I imagine being the Mindflayer's host probably has some nasty side effects. I mean, the the thing forced itself physically inside his head. That's bound to mess you up. It left Billy with a brain injury that manifests itself in seizures. One night, Neil hits Billy and triggers a really bad one. From there it's just lots of angsty worried Steve and some worried Max and that's it. Thanks, friend!

I def take requests!  Can’t say that I’ll be able to get to them right away, but I’m always looking for inspo!  I did some research on seizures, so that took me a moment, and then this kinda got away from me, lol.

Anyway, anon, I sincerely hope that you enjoy this and that it has most of what you asked for~! (Fic below the cut)

When Billy had been impaled, he’d been relieved. It was over, finally over. He had lain there, staring up, a blurry Max yelling above him. He hoped he said his apology and didn’t just think it. He hoped that maybe she would mourn him, even for just a little while.

And then he’d woken up in the hospital, confused about where he was, who he was, and unable to make his mouth work. He thought words, lots of them, mostly what the fuck? Then there’d been a redhead, someone he knew he should know, but didn’t, and then he was asleep again.

That happened a few more times before Billy was able to wake up without freaking out. A nurse had stood above him, saying something, but he couldn’t figure it out at first. Finally, after she repeated it a few times, he was able to gather enough to understand that he’d “lived through a fire and the mall collapsing,” but had gotten a collapsed lung and a traumatic brain injury. That recovery was going to be long and hard and wasn’t even a full guarantee.

He wondered why he was alive.

It took a few months, but Billy was finally able to walk and eat with little difficulty, though he had bad days and his hands trembled when he was stressed. Talking was still difficult. His sentences were stilted and short, words rattling around in his head, but he couldn’t get his mouth to say them. To say what he meant. It drove him crazy.

And when he finally returned home, it pissed his father the fuck off.

“Spit it out!” Neil had yelled, back handing Billy as he had been trying to respond to Neil’s question about what Billy’s plans for the future were. Because of course he was angry that Billy had lived. Was now a burden who was fucking useless, taking up space in his house. And Billy had nothing. Truly nothing. Because what could he say? I’m going to go get an apartment while I can barely ask Susan for a ride?

And of course, he couldn’t say any of that. So Neil had hit him, and Billy, well, he wasn’t in shape anymore. Had needed to relearn how to walk, so he fell. He hit the wall, knocking his head against it. And it made his head spin and spin and spinand–

And he went down, collapsing and panicking because he couldn’t control himself, couldn’t move, couldn’t stop twitching–

“Stop being dramatic,” Neil had spit out, kicking Billy in the side with his boot. But Billy didn’t get up, just laid there, crumpled, eyes wide as he jerked slightly, fingers twitching. Neil frowned. “Get up,” he ordered. Billy didn’t. “Get up,” he tried again, but sweat began to bead on his forehead. “I fucking said get up!” He kicked Billy again, harder, but he stayed down, not even emitting a sound of pain. “Fuck,” Neil hissed. “Fuck!” And he ran. Grabbed his coat and ran.

When Max came into the hall, having heard yelling and the door slam, she saw Billy and screamed. He didn’t do anything more than jerk, a small whimper escaping from his lips.

“Billy!” Max ran over, stopping at the last moment, unsure if she should touch him. Billy whimpered again, the jerks becoming slower and more irregular as his heart slowed and he let out a cry, finally able to make his mouth work. Max jumped back and paused, staring down at him with fat tears rolling down her cheeks, before running back to her room. Billy faintly heard the crackling of her walkie, though he was having trouble making out the words, everything off kilter and he felt sick. Felt like he could move but was too tired to do so. Max’s words finally started to be clear and he heard W-With Hopper and Mrs. Byers gone I-I– and Please I don’t know what to do! My mom– and then when blinked, Max was there again, wiping her eyes and crying softly.

They’d been better, though it hadn’t been hard, seeing as Billy was quiet and withdrawn, nothing like himself before. He didn’t go out, walked everywhere, and he kept his head down. Guilt, embarrassment, and discomfort filled his days and the only bright spots were when Max told him about her day. It was fucking sad. Billy reached out, movements slow, and gripped the front of her socked foot. Her breath hitched and she reached down, grabbing his hand.

“Billy?” Her voice was soft and he was so grateful. “Billy I, uhm, I called Steve and he’s gonna be here soon. We’re gonna take you to the doctor, okay? You’re gonna be fine, okay?” And when her voice cracked Billy felt his eyes fill with tears. He nodded weakly and she squeezed his fingers, only getting up when the door opened, Neil apparently hadn’t bothered to even lock it, and Steve came in, red faced and panting.

“Fuck,” he gasped, staring down at Billy on the floor, who wished he could sink into the ground and stay there.

–

A seizure. His father had slapped him so hard he gave him a fucking seizure.

“What’s best for him right now?” Harrington had asked the nurse, brow furrowed with concern. Billy hated how it gave him butterflies.

“A stable environment and rest. No drinking, no smoking, and no vigorous activity for a day or two.” Billy didn’t mention that he was already not doing that. “If he has another, come to us immediately. If he has any new symptoms, come to us immediately.” Billy tuned him out and looked out the window, feeling pathetic and angry. Max was holding his hand, both of them sitting on the hospital bed. Eventually, Steve waved the nurse off from the doorway and turned back to them.

“Sorry,” Billy croaked, feeling so fucking worthless.

“Don’t be,” Steve replied. “And I mean that. None of this is your fault.” Billy begged to differ. If he had just not let that fucking Mindflayer, or whatever they fucking called it, he didn’t fucking care, take him over they wouldn’t even be here. Steve didn’t take his silence poorly, however, and just held his hand out. Billy took it, blushing for needing help up. He kept his eyes down and let Max take his hand and lead him out. After a moment he realized Steve was talking again. “–se, I mean we have plenty of room, and my parents are never home, I’m pretty much just house sitting–” Billy blinked and looked at him in shock.

“What?” He asked, confused. Steve stuttered to a stop and looked at him, eyes wide. Billy realized, belatedly, that he hadn’t really said much to Steve, except Sorry since– Since–

“Huh?” Steve replied, staring into Billy’s eyes so intently he looked away. Max tugged on his hand.

“He said that you could stay with him. That you should.” When he looked at her, she had a determined look on her face.

“I-I couldn’t–”

“Seriously,” Steve said, cutting him off. “It’s no trouble. I mean, I still have work sometimes, but I can give you the number to call, if that works? If you can?” He looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t know how to talk about this. Billy could relate.

“I don’t–” Billy tried, pausing to clench his fists and eyes. “Rent?” Steve actually looked insulted.

“What? No! You can’t go back home, man,” Steve said, gripping Billy’s shoulder and pausing in the hospital entrance. He caught Billy’s eye. “You can’t. I’m not gonna take advantage of that.” A lump caught in Billy’s throat and he couldn’t say anything. So he just nodded and gripped Max’s hand tightly.

–

At first it was weird, living with another person, in a huge house, with practically free reign. Billy stayed in his guest room most of the time, coming out when Steve was home and falling asleep to the sound of Steve shuffling around. He didn’t sleep much, was always bursting with nervous energy. Was fretting over Billy in a way that no one had since his mother. It was weird, but it wasn’t unwelcome. It was welcome, in fact. Just overwhelming. Billy was used to being touched, touched by those who wanted his body, wanted something from him, wanted to hurt him, but he wasn’t used to this. Wasn’t used to the way Steve would gently grab his elbow as he passed, would help Billy with his buttons on bad days with no complaints, would cut up his goddamn food like he was a child and it made Billy’s head spin.

Steve fretted over him like he had nothing better to do. Like he had nothing else he wanted to do. It made Billy’s stomach do flip flops.

He knew he had liked Harrington since he met him. Had wanted to fuck him at least. And now here he was, still as gorgeous and magnetic as ever, taking care of him. Billy wanted. He wanted so badly.

“Okay,” Steve said, hands on his hips. “You’re sure you’ll be fine?” Billy rolled his eyes.

“Yes,” he replied. “It’s an hour.”

“A lot can happen in an hour,” Steve protested, glancing at his watch. He groaned and glanced at the door. “Fuck, I gotta get to my shift, stupid fucking Keith–” He let out a rush of air and gave Billy one last look. “Are you sure?”

“Christ, Harrington,” Billy drawled, “Max will be here and I’ll be fine.” They had made a system, Steve and Max, deciding that Billy needed to be watched over. Nevermind that he had been doing better, had been talking more, finally able to get his words out a majority of the time, and he was even thinking of starting to jog in the mornings. His doctor had recommended it, finally, and he wanted something to do. To at least pretend he could run from his problems.

But Steve and Max were anxious and goddamn worrywarts, so Steve had continued to move his shifts around so that when he left, Max would be arriving to spend time with Billy after school. It was spring semester, almost spring break, and soon she’d be able to spend more time with him and Steve could work more hours. It made Billy feel like a nuisance, despite how many times Steve told him he wasn’t. For now though, she’d have to leave to make it home for dinner.

He did not think about his father.

Steve gave him one last worried look before nodding and heading out.

“I’ll be home right after work, okay? Unless you want me to pick up, like, a pizza or something?”

“Grab whatever, I’ll eat it.” Billy chewed on his bottom lip and listened to the sounds of Steve leaving, starting his car, and driving away.

Billy thought about his plan to start jogging and, before he could talk himself out of it, was headed out the door, spare key in his pocket. He’d just take one go around Loch Nora, which shouldn’t take him more than 45 minutes, and that was enough time to quickly shower before Max arrived. He started at a slow but steady pace, feeling something in his chest unfurl in the spring weather. It was finally getting warmer, the air brisk and the sun glinting on the melting snow puddles. It was pretty in its own way, even if it didn’t hold to the ocean.

He smiled slightly and closed his eyes, feeling a little more like himself than he had in a long, long time. He jogged down the sidewalk, glad no one was out, and as he rounded the farthest corner, ready to make the final turn, he saw his father coming out of Mrs. Gardner’s house, smiling at her with that plastic face. Billy tripped over his own feet, barely keeping himself upright. He had to lean against a mailbox, unable to get his feet to move. He hadn’t seen his father in over a month now, maybe almost two. His dad hadn’t asked about him, had thrown out most of his stuff, though Max salvaged what she could, and now here he was. As the door closed and Neil turned away, smile melting off his face, he saw Billy. He froze as well, eyes sharp and dangerous.

“Son,” he said, voice dark. Billy felt himself begin to panic and tried to remember to breathe. He didn’t respond, didn’t look away, but he forced himself to move, to jog again. He felt his father’s eyes on his back until he disappeared behind the house on the corner. When he was out of sight, Billy stumbled and hid behind the bushes, glad that rich people loved large hedges. Through the leaves he saw his father’s truck make the turn, it’s pace slow, until his father seemed to give up and sped away. Because even though Billy wasn’t under his roof, his father would always want him under his thumb. Billy sat there, shaking, for a few minutes. When he could finally breathe again he stood and hopped the fences to get to the backyard. He didn’t trust the streets.

When he came around the side of the house, Max was there, ringing the doorbell frantically and pounding on the door. She did a double take when she saw him and ran over, face red with anger, but twisted in concern.

“Where were you?!”

“I wanted to go for a jog,” Billy replied, voice flat. His hands shook as he tried to put the key in the lock and Max gently took it, opening the door for them. She eyed him, knowing there was something he wasn’t saying. When he didn’t continue she tossed her backpack on the floor in the foyer and crossed her arms.

“And?” Billy couldn’t meet her eye.

“Neil was–” Max let out a strangled sound and slammed the door closed, locking it.

“Did he see you? Did he follow you? Billy, fuck!”

“Language,” he replied in a daze. Steve’s mothering tendencies were rubbing off on him. She pulled him into the living room and pulled the curtains.

“Okay, I’m going to ask you yes or no questions,” she said, voice trembling with restraint. “Can you handle that right now?”

“Yes.”

“Did he see you?” She sat him on the couch, going into the kitchen to get him some water.

“Yes,” Billy replied, hoping he was loud enough.

“Did he say anything to you?”

“Yes. Son.”

“Did you say anything to him?” She set the water in front of him before sitting next to him on the couch, taking his hand.

“No.”

“Did he follow you?”

“No. Tried to. I hid.” Billy hated that just seeing his father made him choke up, made the words feel stuck in his throat. He was so grateful for Max in that moment that he pulled her into a tight hug. He hadn’t done so much, if at all, since leaving the hospital. She froze, stiff and shocked, before gripping back, burying her face in his neck.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Seeing his father had been jarring and upsetting, but he’d gotten away. Was 18 so his father couldn’t, and hopefully wouldn’t, do anything. He gripped Max tighter. “Will you be okay?” He was worried his father might have seen Max outside Steve’s and it was too much of a coincidence, them being in the same neighborhood, especially one this rich.

“I didn’t see his truck, but maybe I should go home early, just in case.” She sounded upset, like that was the last thing she wanted to do. “We should call Steve,” she said, pulling away. Billy jerked back, shaking his head.

“No, he doesn’t– He’ll worry.” Billy didn’t want Steve to fret for his entire shift, which he definitely would. “I don’t want to be a bother. It’s my fault for going out–”

“No,” Max snapped, cutting him off. “It’s not your fault.” Billy wouldn’t meet her eye and she stood, putting on Dirty Dancing. They had bonded over Patrick Swayze and it was a comfort movie for the two of them, as weird as it was. She threw herself against his side, making a space for herself, and Billy just wrapped an arm around her and let the movie play.

–

“Billy!” Steve called as he came in, bag of sodas and breadsticks in one hand, pizza balanced in the other. “I brought home Hawaiian pizza!” It made him blush, calling it their home, and since Billy wasn’t there, he let himself. His parents were out even more now that he was out of school, and more still after the Mall Incident. They didn’t want to deal with his nightmares and clinginess and if he had been a little selfish in asking Billy to stay, he would never admit it. He set the pizza down on the table in the kitchen and went into the living room, finding Billy with his arms around his knees, staring at a blue TV screen. It made his hairs stand on end. “Billy?” He jumped, like he hadn’t heard Steve come in, and the fear that flashed on his face broke Steve’s heart. “Hey, hey,” he said placatingly. “It’s just me.” Billy relaxed and nodded once, looking at the TV in shock like he hadn’t even noticed his movie end.

“Sorry I– I lost track of time after Max left.” Steve smiled and held out his hand.

“I got Hawaiian, your favorite, you goddamn heathen.” Billy smiled a little, ducking his head. Steve’s breath hitched when he looked at him through his lashes, his eyes sad and grateful.

“You eat just as much of it as I do, you human garbage disposal,” he replied, taking Steve’s hand and pulling himself up. It was their thing. Steve pretended he hadn’t eaten Cheez-Whiz on undercooked macaroni noodles, and actually had taste, and Billy let him. Plus, Steve could deny it all he wanted, but Billy knew he just didn’t want to admit the pineapple was fucking good.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve replied, something in his chest unclenching. Billy was joking so hopefully things were okay. “You and Max have a good time?” He pulled out a chair for Billy and missed the way he blushed.

“Yeah, watched Dirty Dancing.” Billy winced when Steve froze. He knew that they didn’t watch that unless one of them was having a rough day.

“Oh?” When Billy didn’t reply, just sat down and started shoving pizza into his face, Steve’s chest clenched right back up. “Billy?”

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled. “Just went for a jog and stressed myself out.” He wouldn’t look Steve in the eye, not that he usually did.

“A jog?” Billy shrugged stiffly.

“Yeah. Doc said I could start some light exercising.” He opened one of the cans of coke, fiddling with the tab. Steve fidgeted before sitting down heavily, grabbing a slice to munch on. He watched Billy, who kept hunching lower and lower in his seat.

“So–”

“I saw Neil,” Billy grit out, like he didn’t want to say it. Steve dropped his pizza onto his pants, cursing and tossing it back into the box before moving to Billy’s side.

“Are you okay?” Billy shrugged.

“He didn’t do anything, though I think he tried to follow me, likes to keep tabs on people.” He sniffed and gave Steve a quick look, before once more averting his gaze. Steve hated it. Wanted Billy to look at him. Wanted Billy to know he would never be angry with him, just wanted him to be happy. “Realistically I know he can’t really do anything,” he said, voice soft, “But every time I see him I just–” He cut himself off and crossed his arms. Steve placed his hand on his knee, making Billy’s eyes snap over to him, a light flush on his cheeks.

“When did this happen?”

“After you left. Before Max got here.” Steve nodded, trying not to let the hurt show on his face. Billy hadn’t even called. “Sorry,” Billy whispered.

“For what?”

“Being such a fucking nuisance.” Before Steve could tell him that he wasn’t, Billy continued, fingers digging into his sweater clad arm. “Mooching off of you because I can’t– I’m so fucking useless and stupid.” Steve squeezed Billy’s knee, which for some reason, made his face twist even more. Steve removed his hand but it didn’t seem to help. “And now my dad– I just want to be fucking normal.”

“Okay,” Steve said, licking his lips, “I’m gonna tell you something, okay? And I want you to just listen for a moment.” Billy nodded. Steve went back to his chair and wiped his hands on his pants, making a face when he got the tomato sauce he forgot to remove on one. “One, you’re not mooching. If anything, all of this is on my parents dime, and they aren’t gonna notice. Two, you’re not useless, or stupid.” Billy opened his mouth but Steve tutted him. “No, nope. You do chores without me asking and you had a fucking brain injury. You’re recovering and you’re doing so much better than anyone thought. Even Dr. Owens.” Billy blushed at that, smiling sadly. “And third,” Steve swallowed thickly and blushed, “You’re definitely not a nuisance. I offered up my place because– Well, I have the room and the money to help so why wouldn’t I but–” He scratched the back of his head. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that my parents aren’t ever here. Not really.”

“Yeah,” Billy replied, not sure where Steve was going.

“I’m really glad to help you but also, like, I kind of needed this too.” He picked at some fraying on his sleeve. “I don’t sleep much anymore, too many nightmares, and waking up to an empty house is–” He shrugged, throat getting tight. “I hate being alone,” he said quietly. He looked at Billy, who was staring at him with wide eyes. “I really like having you here.” Billy looked away and Steve kept talking because he needed Billy to know. Fuck it. “I mean, like, I really like having you here.”

“Yeah?” Billy looked at him through his lashes again.

“Yeah,” Steve said, taking Billy’s hand and intertwining their fingers. Billy’s eyes went wide and his face went red and Steve felt the clenching in his chest loosen more. “And you’ll always have a place with me.” He wasn’t surprised when Billy leaned over and kissed him. Just smiled when he pulled back, his breath catching at the glint of happiness and hope in Billy’s eyes when he pulled away.

“I– Is this–”

“I mean, if you really feel like a mooch, a smooch or two per day would be great payment,” Steve said teasingly. And when Billy laughed, looking more like himself than Steve had seen in months, he couldn’t help ducking in for a kiss of his own.

[ythankucaptainmccoy]

Jango Fett x Reader (Plentiful Bounties Chapter 4)

WARNING: Character Death, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Slavery, Mentions of Sexual Abuse, Anxiety and Angst

Jango woke first that morning, and his head was a little groggy as he tried to focus. He felt cold and that was odd because he was under the blankets. Then he noticed he was starting to shiver and that was what woke you. “Jango”, you groaned, rubbing your eye sleepily. You took one look at him, and realized he didn't look good. You reached over and felt his head, and immediately knew he was running a fever. You pulled the covers down much to Jango��s protest and lifted his baggy shirt up to get a look. The bacta patches were still there, but when you pulled them off you were met with an angry looking wound.

He yelped out when you prodded around it, and you knew you had to get a doctor. Then you realized you couldn’t leave him here alone. How were you going to get a doctor here? That’s when it hit you and you ran to Boba’s room to wake him up. When you explained what was happening he was more than willing to go get a doctor. “Boba do you know how to drive this speeder?”, you asked as he climbed into it. “Yeah I can drive it”, he confided. Eya came running out talking about how Boba shouldn’t go alone.

You agreed and she quickly left with Boba to go fetch a doctor. When you got back to Jango he was displeased that you let his son and Eya go by themselves, but it dissolved when you placed a cool wet cloth on his head. Every once in a while he would mumble, but none of it made sense in his feverile state. It was getting later in the day, and you were panicking as you noticed the kids weren’t back yet.

A knock on the door was what pulled you away from Jango’s side, and you ran and opened it when you were hit in the face by a fist. You sprawled to the ground and grabbed for your blades and slashed at the perpetrator. You had missed as a boot kicked you in the ribs and you let out a cry of pain. You continued to act hurt and when he went to kick you again you caught his foot and twisted it causing it to dislocate his hip and more than likely damaging the knee. You started to crawl away when you felt the man grab your foot. 

Without looking you kicked out, but you missed and before you could recover the man was over top of you. It was one of Eya’s fathers men. Panic bubbled inside you as you realized what that could mean. You brought your leg up to hook around his neck, and managed to roll you onto his back. You hit him a couple times with your fist before he grabbed it. You brought your other fist down on his throat causing him to release your hand. 

You got up sprinting to your blades to turn around stabbing him through the chest. You ran to the bedroom to get your armor on, and looked back at Jango. He was not well and you couldn’t leave him here in case others came here. You made your decision to carry his weapons and armor to the Slave I. You came back for him and he seemed lucid enough to help him to the ship. “Jango we have to go. I think the Eya and Boba are in danger”, you relayed. That brought him around enough to get him to the ship where you lay him on one of the cots.

The first place you landed was outside the city, and went to all of the doctors the kids could have gone to, and after checking five places you had someone approach you with information. They described a twi’lek man who fit Eya’s father to a T. You knew exactly where to find him and took off angrily back to the Slave I. Jango was looking worse and you gave him a shot of stim to help control his fever. You navigated the Slave I out of Naboo’s atmosphere and to Jabba’s palace on Tatooine. When you landed you went straight to Jabba to ask him about Eya and Boba. You had done a lot of jobs for Jabba and he owed you this. He told you where Eya and Boba had been taken so that's where you were off to next. 

You hoped that Eya and Boba were okay and you knew that Jango would never forgive you if anything happened to his son. It didn’t take you long to track the man down in a small bar. Without any hesitation you grabbed one of your blades and stabbed it through the twi’leks hand. He yelled out and all eyes turned on you as you grabbed his shirt. “Where are the kids”, you growled behind your helmet. “I don’t know what you're talking…”, you cut him off. 

“Don’t karking play me. I know you had them Jabba told me about you and the kids”, you brought your other blade to his crotch. “I’ll give you ten seconds to tell me where they are”, you shouted. He laughed until you started to count and before you reached ten he told you of where he had sent Eya and Boba. “You should burn for selling your own daughter like this. She is a child!”, you screamed. The other patron watched as you pulled him outside and put magnetic binders on him. 

You secured them to a small post outside and grabbed a torch throwing it on him. His clothes caught and you watched him burn to death outside of the bar. No one dared approach you as you took off to rescue the kids if you weren’t too late already. The man who had bought them was known for his cruelty, and he had no hesitation in killing slaves. You barged into his place and the scene before you broke you. Children half starved and some dead in their small prisons and you had to do something. It didn’t take you long to find the slave owner.

“Remjah”, you shouted. He turned to you and sneered and in his grasp was Boba with a black eye and tears streaming down his face. “Put the kid down and pick a fight with someone who can fight back”, you declared. “These are my slaves and this is none of your concern now piss off”, he waved. He raised his hand to strike Boba again, and you were on him like lightning as you twisted his arm until you heard the sickening crack of bone. He screamed out in pain falling to the sand clutching his now broken arm. 

“Boba are you alright where is Eya?”, you frantically asked. “He...he hurt her, and she stopped moving”, he sobbed now. “Boba where is she”, you tried to stay strong, but when Boba pointed to her laying by a small shed. You ran to her, throwing your helmet to the sand and you noticed at once the odd angle that her neck was bent at. The galaxy had stopped and you could feel every being around you. It felt as though your body was just an empty shell. 

You were alway visiting her and bringing credits and small gifts to her. You had adopted her as your own, and now it felt as though everything was falling apart, and no amount of physical pain could amount to this. Your arms shakily reached out and pulled her limp body into your arms. You screamed and cried until you felt like all of Tatooine had heard your wails. You rocked her back and forth crying until you saw Boba kneel in front of you through your blurry eyes. “Is she... gone”, he questioned, trying to hold back tears. “Yes she’s not suffering anymore”, you stiffened.

“Boba watch over her for me”, you told him. He gently took Eya from your arms trying not to cry any more than he already had. You stood up and stalked towards the slave owner as he was trying to escape. Boba looked up through teary eyes, and what he saw made his eyes go wide. The slave owner was suspended in the air, and you held out your arm and slowly closed your hand into a fist. 

Boba couldn’t believe it, only Jedi could use the force. The man gasped for air until he looked like he would pass out and you let go only to allow him a couple of breaths. “What did you do to her!”, you screamed. “The little whore deserved what she got”, he gasped out. You cut off his air again and again until he was gasping more. “Alright I was going to take her to the shed for sex when that brat tried to stab me a small vibroblade”, he gritted out. Your eyes widened and then the anger that boiled inside of you at what he was going to do to Eya. What he had probably done to the other slaves he owned.

Hatred flowing through you as you brought your other hand up and closed it into a fist. You pulled with all the anger and hatred you had. He was screaming in pain as you pulled both hands apart basically quartering him. “You will never do anything to another slave”, you shouted. You tortured him for several minutes then brought up one of your vibroblades cutting into his flesh. By the time you were done he was unrecognizable as you dropped his body to the ground. He had suffered and you wished you could make him suffer more for all the things he had done.

When you turned around Boba was watching you guardedly. He didn’t ask any questions and he sat there as you took Eya from his arms and stood up. “Find a sheet or blanket, and help me get these other slaves freed”, you nodded towards the house. You noticed you had blood coming from your nose, and you felt extremely drained. You had a mission to carry out, and you still needed to get Jango to a doctor. You would also need to go somewhere to hide, and a planet that would protect you three. 

You went to the barn and hitched up one of the animals to help you get the children back. You helped wrap some of the dead, and made your journey back to the village you had come from. Many parents came out to their children while others sobbed at their loss. You felt the same as you carried Eya’s wrapped body in your arms. Boba walked silently beside you sniffling every once in a while. When you boarded the ship you lay Eya’s body on one of the small cots, and then checked on Jango.

His fever was climbing again and he wasn’t waking when you shook him. Boba watched as you gave him another stim, and you rolled up his sleeve to put your hand over the wound. You concentrated as you focused on trying to heal him. You held out as long as you could until more blood started pouring from your nose. Boba noticed his buirs eyes open slightly to look at you and then at him. He ran to his father's side as you pulled away and went to the cockpit to punch in the next course of navigation. When you came back down to check on Jango he was half asleep again. “Where are we going?”, Jango questioned groggily.

“Somewhere I know we will be safe, and somewhere I can lay her to rest”, you told him sniffling as you nodded towards Eya. Jango nodded then looked at his son, “He told me that you saved him right before that man may have killed him. I am eternally grateful for you rescuing my son. I just wish you could have saved her too”. You nodded as you looked at Boba sitting beside his father’s cot not saying a word. 

The cockpit finally chimed that you were close to your destination. When you landed you helped Jango to his feet, and walked out of the Slave I. Jango instantly recognized it as Mandalore and he thought he would never come back here. Navigating to a house that you knew very well you knocked on the door. When it opened an older man stood there and his eyes went wide at the sight. “Buir I know I told you I would never return, but I need your help”, you confessed.

Jango’s eyes went wide as he realized that your father was truly one of Mandalore’s greatest warriors. He looked between you and the man you were stabilizing, and then to the small boy holding onto the man’s hand. “So this is what you bring back another bounty hunter and a son that I guess you think I will welcome with open arms”, he sneered. “Buir it’s not like that Jango is a friend and this is his son not mine”, you lowered your head in respect. 

Your father took a look around then noticed the bacta patches on the man's arm and the black eye of the boy. “Alright come in”, he told them. “Buir there's one more that I need to bring here”, you almost cried. “Alright but that’s it no more”, your father replied showing you where to place Jango and Boba in the guest room if you remembered correctly. You helped Jango settle into the bed and had your father call for a doctor as you handed him more than enough credits. 

“They are guest’s in my house and you will not pay for them with these credits”, he growled. You took your credits and shoved them back into their pouch at your hip. Once the doctor had been called for you went back to the Slave I to retrieve Eya. When you made it back through the front door you couldn’t take it anymore and collapsed to your knees sobbing. Your father leaned down and offered to take her body. “I was...hoping we could bury her with her mother”, you sniffled trying to reign in your emotions.

“Poor girl. Yes I will have it arranged”, he told you. While your father took care of Eya you walked back inside to the sitting room where Boba was pouting. “Boba what's wrong?”, you asked. “Buir made me leave when the doctor went in, my eye hurts and Eya is gone. She was the only friend I really had”, he sniffled on the verge of tears again. “Boba it’s okay your father is going to be okay. Eya is in a better place and she would have been happy to know that you fought for her. Now let's get that eye fixed up hmmm”, you told him fighting back more tears. 

He nodded and you went to get a cooling pack for his eye. He took it from you gently, and placed it over his black eye. The doctor came out of the room asking if the boy needed to be seen, and you nodded just to make sure that he was going to be okay. The examination didn’t take long and afterwards you went to take him to his buir who was now sitting up in bed with his eyes closed. 

Jango looked ten times better and Boba called out to him. His eyes opened to train on Boba, and he motioned for Boba to climb on up. You excused yourself so they could have a moment alone, and your own buir sat in the sitting room waiting for you. You moved past him to the kitchen, and he got up to follow you. You pulled out ingredients and started on a late dinner. “I’ll pay you back for the food we eat while we are here”, you told him. 

“No you are my ad, and even if you only visit for occasions like this I’m glad you made it home”, he told you. He was a good man at heart, and you had been to blame for leaving home even though part of it was his fault. Dinner was made while you spoke with your father about the events that had happened. He questioned if you were okay, and what you would do now. You told him you weren’t sure of either.

You had no idea what Jango would do if he would decide to move on from you once he healed. You figured you would go back to bounty hunting, and before you knew it the timer for the dinner was chiming. Making a plate for your father, Boba and Jango, you handed a plate to your dad as he took a bite. “You have your mother's cooking skills. You would have made a fine and beautiful wife for someone”, he praised. “Buir not this conversation again. I couldn't, besides Mandalorian men want lots of kids. It’s just not for me especially with the life I lead”, you grimaced. 

He chuckled as you made your way to the guest room where Boba was talking to his dad. They both stopped to look at you as you brought plates of food in. “I figured you all would want something to eat”, you told them. Jango graciously accepted his plate as Boba scarfed his food. Once they were finished they handed their plates over with a thank you. That’s when Boba hugged you, and you hugged him back. When your eyes met Jango’s he was smiling fondly.

After cleaning dishes, and putting them away you checked in on Jango and Boba to see them both fast asleep, and Boba clinging to him. The blanket had slid down so you gently tugged it up and snuggly tucked them in. They looked so peaceful you didn’t disturb them as you left the room. Your father went off to bed as well leaving you alone with your thoughts. Eya had been buried in the garden beside her mother as promised, and that’s where you spent most of the night until you went back inside to your old room and collapsed on your bed.

Sleep found you quickly from the days events, but with it brought nightmares. Several having you wake up in a sweat or things levitating in your room only to crash to the floor. Eventually you resorted to drinking yourself to sleep with some whiskey your father kept around. You were dreaming, but this time it was so peaceful as Eya, her mother and a familiar presence you were used to appeared to you in a blue haze.

 “Don’t worry about us we are always here, and always with you”, Eya and Mizsu told you as you felt a warm embrace of sorts before they disappeared. “Darling you know I have and never will leave you. You are my daughter, you are strong, and you will never be alone”, she told you. “I love you mom”, you smiled in your sleep. “I love you too”, your mother told you before she disappeared. After that you slept peacefully for the rest of the night.

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

I have done a bad thing, but I hope you all cried as I did while writing this. I was feeling angsty today and this is what my mind came up with for the next chapter. Oh the surprise of the force using man could you imagine a mandalorian bounty hunter having force abilities. I have this all planned out and we will learn more about mother, and your secrets.

[atths--twice]

A Remarkable Christmas  1b/8

Chapter Two 

Christmas Morning 

It’s Christmas morning and Scully is playing Santa before she and Mulder take the time to spend the early morning together. 

Mulder jerked in his sleep, a snore escaping as he did, and Scully grinned. She knew he would not wake when she left the bed. Regardless, she got up quietly, pausing at the door to be sure he was still asleep before she left the room. When he did not move, she smiled again and walked down the stairs.

Heading straight to the kitchen, she let the Christmas tree be her only guiding light. Trying to be as quiet as possible, she took out the ingredients needed for pancakes, humming softly to herself as she mixed up the batter, readying it for the morning.

Covering the bowl with plastic wrap, she placed it in the refrigerator, and took out the pack of strawberries. She rinsed and cut them, still humming as she heard Bella move around in her bed, whining softly in her sleep, then breathing deeply once again. Smiling, she finished her task, placing the bowl of cut strawberries beside the pancake batter, and cleaned up the mess she had made.  

Turning around, she looked at the room full of decorations and shook her head with a smile. All of it was so beautiful and while it was a lot, Mulder had been right, they had needed every item from the bins. The new ones had been added and Faith had loved all of them.

She took a strong liking to a wooden gingerbread girl that had big green eyes, long brown braids and a sweet happy smile. It was like the pumpkin at Halloween; carried everywhere and brought into her bed at night.

“God, she’s really going to be a hoarder isn’t she?” Scully had groaned and Mulder smiled with a nod.

“We’ll get an extra shed for all the things she finds important: leaves, rocks, notes from friends, schoolwork…”

“Mulder, please stop. I… I feel itchy just thinking of the mountain of stuff we will have if we get an extra shed. You have enough crap in this house and out in the shed already. The basement too, Mulder…” She had moaned and he had given her a sheepish grin.

“Okay, okay. No extra shed,” he had laughed, pulling her close and keeping her in a tight hold. “We’ll just have to put up a storage system in her room.” She had tried to get away, huffing in mock exasperation, but his grip had been too tight. He had kissed her, causing her knees to go weak, and she had forgotten about anything else but the taste of that kiss.

Shaking her head once again, she walked over and listened as she stood at the bottom of the stairs. Hearing him snoring lightly, she knew she had time to carry out her surprises.

Stepping into the office, a place that had not been used in a long time, she bent down and reached under the overstuffed chair to take out the wrapped gifts she had gotten for Mulder. Knowing he would have found them in any closet, on purpose or accidentally, she had hidden them under the chair, knowing he would never think that was where they would be.

It was just a few gifts, but she knew he would love each of them. Placing them under the tree, she walked back to the office and opened the closet door and took out the gifts for Faith from Santa: a small dollhouse, little chunky bodied dolls, and a doctor's kit which would be used properly and not in any naughty manner, as the one had in the past.

They had also gotten her some clothes, a couple of stuffed toys, and a new green fuzzy blanket with black alien faces on it. Faith would not understand the day, nor all the gifts, but they would.

Taking the wrapped gifts first, she set them beside Mulder’s under the tree. Going back to the office, she made two trips to set the unwrapped Santa gifts in front of the tree. Standing back, she smiled, thinking of all the parents who were doing the same thing tonight; adding magic into their child’s life.

She thought of her parents and how it must have been to keep the magic of Santa alive for four children of different ages and temperaments. Thinking of her youth, she remembered the happiness of Christmas morning; coming down the stairs, the rainbow colored lights of the tree so beautiful and calming, the pile of presents which had appeared in the night, and the smiles on her parents' faces as they opened them.

Sighing contentedly, she went back into the office one last time, took out the bag of stocking stuffers and walked over to the stairs. A new stocking had been added this year; a red and green one, smaller than the others, with a black paw print and the name Bella written in gold inside of it. Mulder had insisted on it, of course.

Into Bella’s stocking, she put a pack of bones, some treats, and a new chewy ball on which to gnaw. Faith’s stocking received some puffy snacks, a squishy snowman, and a small plastic snow globe which held Rudolph and Clarice together in the woods. Into Mulder’s stocking went a small bag of sunflower seeds, a new penlight, and a Sasquatch family magnet for the refrigerator. She smiled as she added that, knowing he would find it very funny.

She stared at Jackson’s stocking and sighed, the familiar tug of sadness pulling at her heart and settling into her stomach. Not knowing him, not really, she decided that she would add a letter to him every year at Christmas, telling him of what had transpired over the year. The likelihood of him ever reading them was low, but she thought that if he actually did, he would see that his presence had been missed.

Putting her letter inside the stocking, she patted it and took the plastic bag to the kitchen and put it away. She set the table, readied the coffee, and placed their mugs by the pot. Nodding as she looked around, she smiled. Walking past the snow globe, she turned it over, and set it down, watching the snow falling silently inside.

After it settled, she walked up the stairs and slipped back into bed, seeking warmth and cuddling close to Mulder. He mumbled in his sleep and put his arm around her, drawing her closer. Smiling, she felt her breathing match his and she fell asleep.

_________________

“Scully! Scully, wake up!” She heard him saying softly in her ear. “Scuuulllyyyy… come on, wake up.” She moaned and he laughed, the motion felt within her own body, at the position they were laying.

“Mulder…” she sighed and opened her eyes, discovering it was still dark outside. “Mulder! It’s not even light out yet. What is our Christmas rule?”

“We get up before our girl so we can have our Christmas first, at least for as long as we can before she wakes us up. Come on, I’m pretty sure Santa has been here,” he said quietly, holding her close and kissing her neck.

“Mmm, okay. I’m up,” she sighed, as she stretched, not exactly sure she was ready to leave their warm bed.

“Good. Let’s go!” He jumped out of bed and she gasped at the cold air that entered and then laughed at his excitement. She moved a bit slower, having been up later than he had.

She used the bathroom and brushed her teeth as he waited for her in the bedroom. With a sigh of finally, he handed her her robe and some socks, already wearing a zip up sweatshirt himself, and waited impatiently as she put them on. Reaching for her hand, she smiled and stopped him, leaning up for a kiss.  

“Merry Christmas, Mulder,” she whispered and he kissed her again.

“Merry Christmas, Scully,” he whispered back. “Now come on!” They laughed quietly as they went down the stairs and into the rainbow lit living room.

Bella shook herself awake, standing up and stretching, her tail wagging as she saw them. “I’ll take her out,” Mulder said, opening her crate and clipping on her leash.

Scully stopped by the stockings on the way to switch the coffee on, taking out the bag of Bella’s chewy bones, and then walked over to the tree, waiting for them to come back inside.

“Mulder,” she whispered, with a smile and a shake of her head, when she saw that a four piece alien family had been added to the dollhouse family.

The door opened quietly and he shivered as he and Bella came back inside, shutting the door behind him, and taking off his coat and boots.

“Smells like it might snow again. We could keep that white Christmas after all, or it could end up being far too warm and it all melts away… that’s climate change for you.” He unclipped Bella and she ran over to Scully, licking her good morning as she bent to pet her.

“Merry Christmas, Bella,” she said, rubbing her soft ears. Bella wiggled and licked at her nose and Scully laughed, opening the package of bones and giving her one. She took it and ran over to her bed to chew on it.  

“Mmm, that coffee smells good,” Mulder said, as he walked into the kitchen.

“I saw your addition of gifts to the ones from Santa,” Scully said, joining him by the coffee pot.

“I don’t know what you mean, Scully. I didn’t add anything. What’re you talking about?” he asked innocently, pouring and preparing their coffees.

“Nice try,” she said, taking the mug he offered to her. “That has your name all over it.”

“I seriously don’t know what you mean. It must have been Santa and the magic of Christmas,” he said with a smile and she grinned back. “Come on, let’s open gifts!”

She laughed as she followed him to the couch and set her mug on the coffee table. Walking over to the stockings first, she reached to take Mulder’s down, when she saw that an additional letter had been added to Jackson’s stocking. Her eyes filled with tears as Mulder came to stand beside her.

“I liked the idea, and I wanted to add my own letter to him as well,” he said softly, putting his arm around her. She nodded, squeezing his hand on her shoulder and reached again for his stocking as he reached for hers.

Looking at him quizzically, he shrugged. “I told you, Santa must have been here.” She smiled as they set the stockings on the coffee table and he continued over to the tree, gathering their gifts for each other.

He set them on the coffee table next to their stockings and sat down beside her on the couch. Looking over at her, he smiled and reached for their coffee mugs, handing hers to her. Clinking their mugs, they sat in the silence of the room, staring at the tree.

“I think we should do this as long as we can, take this time for us,” he said quietly and she nodded. “It’s not about the gifts, as neither of us needs anything, but this quiet before the Christmas morning truly begins, I enjoy spending it with you.”

“Good thing you married me then, huh?” she teased and he laughed, nodding his head.

“Okay! Open your stocking!” he said, setting down his mug and taking hers, putting it back on the coffee table. He picked up her stocking and laid it on her lap.

“This feels heavy,” she told him, lifting the stocking and finding it was quite hefty.

“Santa must have known you’ve been a really good girl this year,” he said with a shrug.

She smiled and reached inside, finding a handle of sorts, and frowning. Pulling out the item, she discovered it was a compact black umbrella and she chuckled softly. Remembering many days and nights spent under one like it, she turned her head and smiled at him.

“Open it,” he said, smiling back.

“Open it? Inside? And risk the bad luck?” she asked, astonished at his suggestion.

“It’s a superstition that I don’t believe in, Scully. Open it.” Smiling, she undid the Velcro strap and loosened the umbrella, pushing the button to fully open it.

“Oh, Mulder…” she whispered, holding it above their heads and looking up. While the outside may have been a plain unassuming black, on the inside it was as yellow as a sunny day. “It’s beautiful.”

“To remind you that the gray skies won’t be around for long,” he said softly and she sighed, meeting his eyes and smiling.

“I love it. Thank you.” She kissed him as he took it from her, closing it up again.

“Keep looking,” he said and she reached in the stocking again.

A dark chocolate bar and a pair of socks with flamingos in Santa hats. Laughing, she set them aside and picked up his stocking, handing it to him. He dug in excitedly, exclaiming over the items he found, jumping up to put the magnet on the refrigerator.

Coming back to the couch, he handed her another weighty gift. “Your turn,” he smiled and she ripped the paper off of the package.

“Mulder…” she said, lightly touching the book he had given her; a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets.

“It’s not exactly a first edition or anything, I mean I do want our daughter to go to college one day." He laughed and she smiled. “But it is old and I knew you would like it.”

“I love it. Thank you.” She flipped through it and read one of her favorites out loud, smiling as she closed it. “Okay, your turn. The middle one in your stack.”

He smiled as he took the one she said, tearing open the paper and lifting the lid from the box. Inside was a new pair of black gloves. He tried them on, nodding appreciatively.  

“I foresee many snowmen being built in our future and I felt it best you were prepared,” she explained and he chuckled.

“They’re perfect, thank you.” Taking them off, he handed her the next gift with a huge smile on his face. She narrowed her eyes at him and he pushed it closer to her, bouncing slightly as he bit his lip and grinned.

“Oh, I’m a bit nervous,” she said, holding the small box in her hands. She tore the paper carefully at the edges, as he chuckled softly. Ripping the paper off completely, a white box sat on her lap and he huffed.

“Open it!” he demanded with a laugh and she did so slowly, lifting the lid carefully. “Oh my God, Scully, you’re killing me.” He rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, sighing loudly as she giggled.

The lid off, she pulled back the green tissue as slowly as she had opened the box and he muttered menacingly under his breath. When she had finally opened the tissue, her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

“What in the hell is this?” she asked, staring at the shirt that lay in the box and then at him. He grinned wider than ever as she looked back at the shirt, taking it out of the box, completely speechless.

It was a white shirt with a black box frame in which a gray smiling alien was centered, a red heart near its left cheek. Underneath the pictures in white typewriter font were the words: He abducted my heart, with a black arrow pointing to the right.

“Isn’t it perfect?” he laughed and she opened and closed her mouth, not sure what to say. “Wait! You haven’t seen the best part.”

“The best part? Does it also glow in the dark?”

“Ohhhh, that would’ve been good, but no, it’s this.” Unzipping his hoodie, he showed her the shirt he was wearing underneath.

“Oh… my God, Mulder,” she breathed and then burst out laughing.

His shirt was black with a gray box frame, the same alien, but with the heart near its right cheek. The words written underneath were black and in the same font, but they said: She abducted my heart and the arrow pointing to the left, was white.  

“Huh? How perfect is this?” He pointed back and forth between them and she shook her head, taking off her robe and putting it on over her long sleeved pajama top.

Holding it out, she looked down at it and then at his. “It’s the most perfectly ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen." She laughed and he nodded as he looked at them together.

“It absolutely is, no question. Which is exactly why I had to buy them, it’s the perfect gift. I think I beat you, my gift is best.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said with a laugh. “But it’s a good around the house only shirt.” He looked shocked and she stared at him. “Mulder, no way I would walk around wearing this outside.”

“Would it change your mind at all, if I said I also have one for Faith?”

“What?!”

From his sweatshirt pocket, he pulled out a light green shirt. A black box frame held two larger alien faces and one smaller one, two small red hearts under its face. In white letters it said: I’ve abducted both of their hearts.

“Mulder,” she whispered, taking the shirt from him, and scrunching her chin. “I love this so much. But the answer is still a firm hell no.” She looked at him and he laughed with a nod, admitting defeat. She leaned over and kissed him, thanking him for her gift.

“Open the top one now,” she said with a grin, knowing what was inside of course, and realizing it would be a bit of tit for tat after her gift.

He laughed as he took the two teal colored bags with the large orange fox on them, out of the box. Black acorns, leaves, and swirled designs were drawn on the bag. In white letters, interwoven between them, were the words Stay Foxy.

“I thought you might enjoy using something with your own name on it so as not to rely on Bob all the time,” she teased and he laughed again.

“So, I’m supposed to take these to the store and other places, use them, but the shirts are too much?” he teased back and she laughed.

“One hundred percent. No one knows your name unless you choose to tell them. These shirts are very cute, but we’re not a matching t-shirt family. At least not in public.” She smiled and he nodded.

“I know. I’m just teasing and perfectly happy to wear them here.”

“Of course, Faith’s is pretty cute…” She shrugged and he grinned.

“I’ll convince you yet,” he whispered, and she laughed, shaking her head. “Okay, you’ve got one more.” He handed her a large, thin envelope sized package and she gave him a curious look.

Sliding her finger under the tape, she opened the envelope and pulled out the contents. It was printed information about a vacation home in Martha’s Vineyard. A small bungalow right on the beach had been rented for a weekend in the middle of January. He had included pictures of the town and an itinerary that did not exactly appear to include Faith.

Looking at him questioningly, he smiled. “Skinner and Rachel have agreed to watch Faith for that weekend.” She raised her eyebrows at him and he nodded, his own eyebrows raised.

“Wow, that’s…”

“I know. We’ll have some alone time…”

“I was thinking more like that’s a big step for them,” she mused, looking at the papers again. “I’m both elated and completely terrified.”

“I’d say that is the general consensus, judging by the amount of phone calls I’ve had from Skinner." He laughed and she sighed.

“I love this, and it might sound crazy, but I’m happier they will be having the time with Faith.” She looked at him and he raised his eyebrows.

“I did add amazing sex to the itinerary, didn’t I?” He took the papers from her and searched through them. “Yup, it’s here in bold, so it’s definitely a top priority.” She laughed as she took the papers back, seeing where he was pointing, and had indeed written amazing sex in bold.

“Thank you, Mulder. This will be wonderful. For all parties involved.” She set the papers down and held his face in her hands, kissing him softly. His tongue licked at her lips and he pulled her easily onto his lap.

“Hmmm… you have one more gift,” she murmured against his mouth and he kissed her again, nearly causing her to forget, but she wanted him to have the gift before Faith woke up. “Okay, let's pause this for later, I want you to open the last gift.” Kissing him once more, she climbed off of his lap and stood up, shaking her head, smoothing her hair, and breathing hard.

“Sure I can't persuade you?” he asked, looking rumpled and delicious. The desire to continue what they started was strong, but she had planned this and Faith was due to wake up very soon.

Turning around, she picked up his gift and handed it to him, sitting on the coffee table, instead of the couch. He looked at it and then at her.

“Open it,” she said softly, and he began to do so carefully. She watched him as he opened the box, feeling nervous about how he would feel about the gift and the idea that had been knocking around in her head.

“It’s a journal,” he said, and she nodded. “A really nice journal… but I… I’m sorry, honey…”

“I’ve been thinking,” she said quietly, taking the leather bound writing journal from him and thumbing through the blank pages. “I know you started the journal for Faith, and I love it, but I’ve been thinking about something else.” She looked at him and he smiled, waiting for her to continue. “You should write a book, Mulder. A children’s book.” He looked shocked and she laughed softly. “Hear me out.”

She handed the journal back to him and took a deep breath. “You’re an amazing writer, always have been, and I think you should take the stories of our cases, and put them into a children’s series.”

“Scully,” he said with an incredulous laugh. “They are hardly stories for children.” She smiled and nodded, knowing full well that most of the cases would not classify as child friendly.

“So, you change things a bit. Make it funny or just a little scary,” she said with a shrug. “I know it’s sometimes easier to type away on the laptop, but for me, there’s something about seeing your own handwriting filling a book with ideas that seems to make it real.” She looked at the journal and opened it to the first page, where she had written an inscription.

He looked down and read it out loud. “For the beginning of your journey. Write it down. Put it in a book. Love, Scully.”  He raised his eyes to hers and she smiled, remembering the last time she had said those words to him.

“I know you can do this,” she whispered with a smile. He stared at her and then closed the journal, setting it beside him and pulling her into his lap again.

“Thank you. I love it and I love you,” he whispered as he held her close.

“I love you too.”

A cry from upstairs broke the silence of the room and she pulled back, kissing him softly and leaving his lap. He picked up the journal and stood beside her with a smile.

“I think this will be a great idea,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“I know, that’s why I got it,” she teased him, and he laughed as Faith cried again.

“You wait here, I’ll go get her,” he said, and she agreed. “Oh!” He turned around and grabbed the alien shirt for Faith, kissed Scully’s laughing mouth, and ran up the stairs two at a time.

Smiling, she looked around the room once more, taking in its beauty. She heard Mulder speaking to Faith, telling her about the shirt he was putting on her and how much Mama truly loved it.

Shaking her head, she looked down at her own shirt; at the gray alien with a red heart, and she smiled.

He abducted my heart.

Yes, he surely had, she thought with another smile, as she heard them on the stairs, and Mulder announced they were coming down. Excitement bubbled in her stomach as she waited, ready to experience the wonder and excitement of Christmas through the eyes of her daughter.

________________________________________________

Oh, I just love them happy and being normal and loving. I hope you enjoyed this story. My friend Cheyenne created the picture of the shirts mentioned in the story. I saw that and HAD to add it to as a gift. It is SUCH a Mulder type of gift. 

Also, I saw the bags Scully gives Mulder in Michael’s during Christmas time, when the world was still normal.... I had to include that as I think she would enjoy teasing him with something like it. ❤️

Here’s a picture of the shirts in case anyone was curious about them. Well, the ones Mulder and Scully wear anyway. Faith’s was not a part of it until I added it into the story. 😊👽

[labyrinth-archive]

The Doctor and Mrs. Smith Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: Eleven x Clara Length: 6,000 words Warnings: None     Also on Ao3 Summary:

“So, what do you say, Miss Oswald?” the Doctor asks, and he’s got that look in his eyes again, half-mischief, half-madness, all magic. “Fancy becoming Mrs. Smith?”

“Is this a proposal, Doctor?”

“’Course it is. That’s why I’ve got a ring.”

Filler scenes for the The Crimson Horror, the episode where the Doctor and Clara pretend to be married, because it’s a crying shame we only got five minutes of those two being giddy, fake-married idiots.

There were things in space that were magnetic, the Doctor told Clara once, as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pointed upward with his other, toward a delicate cluster of silver stars that shone in a scarlet sky. Certain celestial things had this force around them, he’d explained, that couldn’t help but draw everything else to them.

The Doctor, Clara thinks, is the same way. He’s like something luminous that belongs up in the sky, and every Wednesday she steps onto the TARDIS and gets caught in his orbit as he whisks her away to anyplace on Earth or anywhere ethereal. And maybe he feels as much of a pull toward her as she feels toward him, Clara thinks, as she stands on the steps of the Maitland’s and waits for the TARDIS.

After all, this man has all of time at the tips of his fingers and all of space as his backyard and yet every week he comes back to her, like he feels there’s something magnetic about her too.

The TARDIS appears then, flickering in and out like an old movie screen until it grows solid and steady, and when Clara opens the door and steps inside, she sees the Doctor’s bent over the TARDIS console, the glow from it shimmering across his face like a nebula.

“London,” he says, without looking up.

One word. Two syllables.

Clara has no idea how he can take those simple things and make it sound like he’s promising her something dazzling.

Not that she’d ever let him know that.

“London?” she questions, overly casual, as she steps toward the thrumming TARDIS console.

“London in 1893,” he adds with a flourish, and then he finally does look up at her, and she can tell he’s wearing that look, the one where he’s grinning and there’s stardust in his eyes and the promise of adventure on his lips.

Clara tries to keep the smile that’s threatening to spill across her face under control as she says, “That’s a very specific year.”

“Nah, not really, just made it up on the spot. We could go to 1891, if you’d like.”

And this time Clara really can’t contain her smile. She can feel it spread across her face, unbidden and giddy and bright. This is the effect he has on her, the effect he always has on her.

Clara feels like she should probably mind.

(She doesn’t.)

“Alright, then,” she says. “Show me Victorian London.”

#

“Okay,” the Doctor says as he steps out of the blue TARDIS doors and peers around at the mist filled sky and cobblestone roads and quaint little town signs. “Not London 1893. Yorkshire 1893. Near enough.”

Clara is both unsurprised and unbothered by this. At least it’s not like the time he promised her a San Francisco pier and then landed them squarely inside Alcatraz when it was still a functioning prison.

“You’re making a habit of this, getting us lost,” she says as she comes up next to him. Despite him insisting that he’s flying toward someplace specific, Clara’s still not entirely sure he’s really, actually picking a place to land and not just blindly flicking a switch and pulling a lever and flinging them around just for the fun of it.

“Sorry,” he says blithely, not sounding sorry at all. “Hmm,” she hums, and almost absent-mindedly, the Doctor reaches out for her. Clara feels his arm wrapping around her, the weight of it warm and comforting as it comes to rest along her shoulders, and then he pulls her close to his side, tucking her under his arm as they walk.

There he is, doing it again, Clara thinks, drawing her into him like he has some sort of gravitational pull. And perhaps this is why Clara doesn’t care that he hurls them blindly into the unknown. Because whether they stand in Venice or on Venus or anyplace else, he’s always there, right by her side, and 101 Places to See are only as good as the person you see them with.

Besides, as long as the two of them were together, what could go wrong?

It’s as Clara’s thinking this, ironically, that there’s a blood-curling scream, echoing off the cobblestones and slicing through the fog.

The Doctor turns toward her, smiling widely, “Brave heart, Clara.”

# They’re in a morgue. There are cold, crimson colored bodies on slabs and pictures in the eyes of dead men and a man called Edmund who led them there, spinning them a tale of something sinister.

(“They call it The Crimson Horror,” Edmund tells them gravely, pointing to the dead, red body found in the canal that triggered the scream they’d heard. “You’ll never look at that shade of red the same way again.”)

According to this Edmund, these bodies have started to regularly appear in the Yorkshire canal overnight, and though no one else believes him, he thinks the person dumping the bodies is from a community called Sweetville, owned by a woman named Mrs. Gillyflower.

The Doctor, it seems, is absolutely delighted by this. Sweetly named towns that hide something sinister and cadavers that glow red in the dark are apparently all hallmarks of a great trip, because the Doctor’s enthusiastically babbling a mile a minute as he peers through monocles and swipes off samples and starts mixing substances in a makeshift chemistry lab he’s found on a table. Clara, Edmund, and the mortician are all temporarily forgotten as the Doctor conducts his experiments and comes to conclusions.

The red, the Doctor finally decides (if Clara’s deciphering his half-unintelligible, half-overly excited muttering correctly) is some kind of chemically created poison, and it’s only when he’s pouring a beaker full of ruby liquid into a cup with smoke curling out of it that he pauses to look up at Clara for the first time since they got there.

“We’re in a morgue,” he says.

“I noticed,” Clara replies, studying a dead man’s red fingers through the silver monocle the mortician handed her. “A bit hard to miss, what with the corpses and all.”

“No, I mean,” the Doctor jerks his arms about in the way he does when he’s trying to explain something, and the liquid in the beaker he holds bubbles ominously at the movement, “we’re in a morgue. Highly doubt you wanted to spend your day in Victorian Yorkshire here.”

Clara shrugs, “I’ve been on worse dates.”

The Doctor blinks, mouth coming open before snapping shut again. He looks to Clara like he’s torn between wanting to fluster and sputter about how this is not a date, and being morbidly fascinated with finding out that a visit to the morgue’s not the worst date she’s ever been on.

He chooses the latter option.

“So,” he says, putting a drop of something that smokes and fizzes into the beaker, “what was the worst one?”

“Tommy Johnson. Drank too much. Hit on the waitress. Threw up on my brand new boots,” Clara says, shuddering at the memory. “This is definitely only the second worst date.”

The Doctor hums, staring at the bubbling beaker in front of him, and then, quite unexpectedly, he goes, “Want to make it the third worst?”

Clara tilts her head, raises an eyebrow, “What’d you have in mind?”

“Fancy a trip to Sweetville?”

“Sweetville?“ Clara repeats flatly. ”The sinister little village all these red corpses supposedly come from? That will most likely want to turn us into red corpses as well?”

“That’s the one,” the Doctor confirms, and with that he looks up from the beaker and at her. He leans forward toward Clara, crossing his arms on the table, his grin widening as his eyes lock into hers, and it feels a little like a dare. And it’s not in Clara Oswald’s nature to back down from a dare like that.

Clara mimics him, placing her elbows on the table, leaning in closer to him just like he’d leaned toward her, and then she gives him a daring smile of her own. “Let’s do it.”

The mortician in the background mutters something under his breath, and it’s hard to tell from his thick accent, but Clara thinks it sounds suspiciously like, “Stop flirting over the corpses!”

(He is ignored.)

# “Wait,” Edmund says, “there’s a problem.”

“Isn’t there always?” the Doctor replies quickly, and Clara can’t tell whether he’s being serious or sarcastic.

“Mrs. Gillyflower just recruited a good number of people to live in Sweetville. She’s no longer accepting applicants, especially not from single folk,” Edmund explains. “Rumor has it, though, that if one of her people spot a married couple, and they deem them worthy, they’ll occasionally offer them a spot.”

There’s silence for a minute as they all mull this over, and then the Doctor turns to look at Clara, and when he does, Clara can already tell that he’s about to suggest something completely, totally, utterly mad.

“What do you say, Miss Oswald?” the Doctors asks as he grins at her, and he’s got that look in his eyes again, half-mischief, half-madness, all magic. “Fancy becoming Mrs. Smith?”

Clara smirks, raises an eyebrow, “Is this a proposal, Doctor?”

“’Course it is,” he says, holding up a silver band in his hand that he’s somehow procured out of thin air. “That’s why I’ve got a ring.”

#

Clara, the Doctor, and Edmund are in the process of discussing plans and pointing out potential problems, when Clara turns her head to look at a map of the town and feels one of the buttons on her high velvet collar come undone in the back.

Victorian clothes, Clara decides, are as nonsensical as they are pretty. She doesn’t think she could ever live out her life in the Victorian era.

“Top button,” Clara commands, turning her back toward the Doctor, and dutifully his hands come up, and she feels his fingers brush against the back of her neck as her finishes buttoning up her collar.

Button done, Clara turns back around to find Edmund staring at them.

“You sure you two aren’t really married?” he asks.

“Positive,” Clara says, at the same time she hears the Doctor say, “Absolutely not, no.”

Edmund stares at them in utter disbelief, as if the idea of The Crimson Horror’s more believable than their protests.

(Clara tries not to think about that too much.)

“Anyway, the plan,” she says, putting them back on track, “is to attract the attention of one of Mrs. Gillyflower’s recruiters in town and secure an invite, yeah? So, how do we do that? Where do we find them?”

“I don’t think we’re going to find them, Mrs. Smith,” the Doctor says, bending his elbow and offering her his arm, “I think we’re going to let them find us.”

# “So,” Clara says, as she walks down the quaint Victorian street, her hand nestled in the crook of the Doctor’s elbow, “this plan…” “Yeah?”

“If you can even call it a plan -“ “Oh, it’s definitely a plan. You want to hear about plans? I once went onboard a cyber ship with nothing more than a hunch and a licorice twist, so trust me, Clara, when I say I’ve had plans much, much less pulled together than this.”

“Now that I believe.”

“Oi! Watch it!” “So, this plan,” Clara continues, completely ignoring the indignant look the Doctor sends her way, “is just to walk through town and hope to get recruited?” ”Edmund said the past three couples to move to Sweetville were reportedly found and recruited on Main Street, and so here we are. And look at us! New, fresh, walking slabs of flesh, ripe for the picking, or killing, as it were - “

“Really not making me feel good about this - “ “How can they resist us? Trust me, Clara, they’ll find us. When have I ever been wrong before?” And before Clara can answer with an itemized list, the Doctor says, “Oh, here we go.”

Clara blinks, nearly getting whiplash from the sudden change in his tone, but she notices that, up ahead, there’s a lady walking down the street. “No idea if she’s one of Mrs. Gillyflower’s or not, but we’ll pass her by and say a few words,” the Doctor whispers. “Get ready to look married and willing to move to a sinisterly sweet looking community, Mrs. Smith.”

Before Clara can ask exactly what a happily married, eager-to-move-to-a-horror-town woman looks like, the lady gets closer, and the Doctor pastes on his biggest, brightest smile, and moves his hand to wrap around Clara’s waist, pulling her ever so slightly closer to him.

“Hello, there,” the lady says, smiling at them as she approaches. “Are you two new in town?”

Clara‘s completely, utterly, and totally unprepared for what happens next.

“Eh oh, we definitely are,” the Doctor says, in what perhaps is the fakest, most outrageous Yorkshire accent Clara’s ever heard in her life. It’s half over-excited, half over-exaggerated, and all together hilarious. “And we’re enjoying this cozy little town, aren’t we, love?”

Clara nods, desperately trying to keep a traitorous, treacherous bout of laughter down.

She’s failing.

The Doctor must sense her losing it, because Clara sees him raise his eyebrows at her, and she can feel his fingers tighten around her waist in warning.

“Aw, how lovely,” the lady coos, thankfully not noticing that Clara’s half a heartbeat away from dying from laughter. “You two haven’t been married long, have you?”

“Nah, not long now,” the Doctor replies, plowing on in his heavy accent. “Feels as though we’ve only been married minutes though, doesn’t it, Mrs. Smith?”

Clara makes a garbled, choking noise, a pearl of laughter escaping her lips in the process, and she hurriedly and hopelessly tries to turn it into a cough.

(She can’t help it, his accent sounds absolutely ridiculous.) “Ah, right then, better get the missus indoors,” the Doctor says, “sounds like she’s coming down with a bit of a cold.”

Hand still on her waist, the Doctor half-drags Clara down the street, away from the lady, and they don’t even make it half a block before Clara loses all self-control and nearly doubles over with laughter, clutching onto his arm to keep herself upright. “What was that accent? Was it even an accent?” “It’s a Yorkshire accent.”

“That’s an insult to everyone with an actual Yorkshire accent. You sound like you’re talking with a jammie dodger stuffed in your mouth.” “Clara,” he reprimands, still using that terrible accent he seems terribly proud of, “I’ll have you know that my accent is flawless.”

“Cheekfulls of jammie dodgers, actually, like a chipmunk.” ”Oi, is that any way to talk to your new husband and apparent the love of your life?”

“It is when he sounds like that.” He glares at her, she grins.

“You can’t be very mad at me,” she informs him. “Your arm’s still around me.”

He blinks, like he’s forgotten. “Cover story,” he says primly. “Right.”

“Shut up.”

(He still doesn’t move his arm.)

# “You’ve got to do the Yorkshire accent too, you know,” he whispers to her as he pulls out her chair in the tea room on Main Street, where they’ve decided to see if they can attract a Sweetville resident’s attention. “No,” Clara says, taking a seat. “Absolutely not.”

The Doctor scoots her in closer to the table, his hands curled around the back of her chair, and then he bends forward, and she can feel his lips close to her ear and his breath hot on her cheek as he whispers, “It’ll be fun.” Clara turns her head, nearly bumping her nose into his chin, “I think you and I have different definitions of fun.”

“Come on, Clara,” he pleads, as he moves away from her, walking around to the other side of the tea table and plopping down in the chair there, a tangled blur of limbs and hand motions. “You’re my Yorkshire wife, from Yorkshire! We both have to be Yorkshire. The key word here being Yorkshire.” “Are you sure you said the word Yorkshire enough times there, Doctor?”

He waves his finger around the tea room in a circle, like his hand’s imitating the kind you’d find on a clock, “Any single one of these people could be from Sweetville. So you’ve got to do an accent, and you’ve got to start it now. When the waitress comes, give it a go, eh?” “I’m not doing an accent.”

(She does an accent. It actually is quite fun. She’s never admitting it.)

# They’re being watched. Clara can feel it. She just can’t tell who by. But there’s a distinct shiver down her spine that has nothing to do with the autumn wind, and a deep, instinctive urge to stop and turn and look. This was the plan, after all: Get watched, get followed, get invited. Clara’s certainly not getting cold feet, not when they’ve gotten this far, but there’s a distinctively uncomfortable feeling to being watched like you’re the little rabbit in a nature documentary, and there’s a great big fox around the corner. The Doctor must feel it too.

“You know what the best thing about a plan is?” he asks her. “What’s that?”

“It working,” he answers. “And do you know what the worst thing about a plan is?”

Clara huffs out a quiet laugh, watching as a puff of pale fog escape her lips, “Let me guess, it working?”

“Bingo,” he says, and then he pauses, sniffs, licks his finger, sticks it in the air, and says, “Ah, looks like rain.”

And with that announcement, he opens up the umbrella he’s brought with him from the TARDIS, and no sooner than he has, does rain start to fall, glittering in the glow of the streetlights and dusting the pavement around them with raindrops.

Clara has no idea how he does that.

“Funny story about this umbrella,” the Doctor says, and she has a feeling he’s trying to distract her from focusing on being watched, “well, when I say funny story, I mean funny story if you’re not a tremendously grouchy actor. I borrowed it from Gene, when he was on one of his movie sets. Bit temperamental, that man, but a superb dancer.”

“Doctor, are you telling me you stole this umbrella off Gene Kelly while he was filming Singin’ in the Rain?”

“I had to, there was a misplaced alien Slider cat loose there, trying to soak up the warmth from the set lights. If you watch the movie closely, you may still be able to spot it,” he tells her. “Anyway, yeah, kept the umbrella, I was going to give it back, but not with Gene yelling at me like that. Figured I’d return it later after he’d had some time to calm down. We can take it back to him, if you’d like, after we’re done here. You might like him, Clara. Just don’t try to take any of the movie props while you’re there. He’s rather touchy about that.”

Clara laughs and intwines her arm with his, leaning in close to him under the shelter of the umbrella. It’s then that she catches their reflection in the rain-dotted shop window they’re passing. There they are, reflected in glass, the Doctor and his Mrs. Smith, her in velvet and him in tweed, walking a little too close to each other, her arm wound around his. It strikes her then, how much they look like an actual couple. Clara had wondered, honestly, if she was going to feel uncomfortable with pretending to be married, or nervous. And she probably would be, if it was any other guy, but it’s not any other guy, it’s him. It’s him and it’s her and it just somehow feels right.

(This idea that they’re this comfortable together pretending to be a couple should probably surprise her more.

It doesn’t.)

# They’re still being watched, and possibly followed, but when they duck into a bookshop, Clara completely forgets about who’s following her. Or why she’s even in Victorian Yorkshire in the first place. And how can she remember silly things as insignificant as that? It seems impossible when she’s surrounded by so many books. Clara closes her eyes and inhales deeply, enjoying the comforting scent of fresh paper and ink and leather bound covers, and then she’s moving down the aisles, getting lost in a maze of books, and dragging the Doctor behind her, one hand clasped in his as she pulls him along, and her other hand reaching out to the shelves as she runs the tips of her fingers down the book spines as she goes.

She finally stops in one aisle and spins around in a half circle, soaking it all in.

“I don’t even know what to look for,” Clara suddenly admits as she spots a card advertising the ’brand new’ book, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. “What was going on in the world of literature in 1893?” “Ah, 1893. A good year,” the Doctor says, pulling a book out from the shelf, lifting it up to his nose, and inhaling, like he’s at a wine tasting instead of a book store. “Somewhere out there, writers of the golden age of detective literature are being born, and Arthur Conan Doyle is getting ready to surprise fans by resurrecting Sherlock Holmes, and Oscar Wilde’s new play is premiering.”

Clara listens to him, a small smile on her lips as her eyes browse the shelves, and then she sees it, right up there, toward the top. Could it be?

Clara reaches for the book that’s caught her eye, but she’s far too short, the tips of her fingers not even coming close to reaching it, and she harrumphs in annoyance.

It’s then that she feels the Doctor take a step closer, the warmth from his proximity seeping into her clothes and onto her skin as he comes to stand behind her. He stretches his arm up and easily grabs the book she was reaching towards before depositing it into her waiting hands. Clara looks up to thank him, but he’s distracted, watching something else by the counter, and Clara knows she should be paying attention too, but she just can’t, because she’s holding a vintage copy of one of her favorite books in the world.

It’s an 1893 copy of Pride and Prejudice. The cover is a pale, robin’s egg blue, embossed with a bright gold that glints off the bookshop’s lighting and makes Clara’s breath catch beneath her collarbone. She runs the pads of her fingers over the cover, nearly afraid to touch it. If she were back home in her proper time, she’d never, ever be able to afford it or even hold it in her hands. And it’d be old and weathered, if she got it the long way around, but here it is fresh off the printing press, new and pristine, and absolutely beautiful.

Clara’s not sure she can let it go. “Doctor,” she whispers, eyes still on the book, completely absorbed, “can I -“ But she’s interrupted.

“Hello,” someone says suddenly from somewhere behind her, and Clara jumps, hastily placing the book back on the shelf before turning around to see a woman standing close to her. The woman must’ve been who the Doctor had been watching, and Clara can see why. There’s something eerie about her, almost as if she’s a wax figure come to life. Her skin’s a little too glossy, her eyes a little too blue.

“Pardon me,” the woman says, “but I have an invitation to offer you on behalf of my employer, Mrs. Gillyflower.” # “Oh, yes, Doctor and Mrs. Smith,” Mrs. Gillyflower tells them as they stand in her Sweetville office, being interviewed. “I think you’ll do nicely.” “Grand! Smashing,” the Doctor exclaims happily, in that terrible, no good, very bad accent of his. “Eh, the missus and I couldn’t be more chuffed, could we love?”

At this, he brings his arm up and slides it around Clara’s shoulders, half-hugging her close to him, as if he can create a cocoon around her with his arms if he tries hard enough. Clara turns to look up at him, raising an eyebrow. She hasn’t, in all honesty, seen this much hammy overacting since Artie’s disastrous performance as Peter Pan in his school play when he was seven. The play had been tedious, and the urge to groan nearly unbearable, but she’d loved Artie anyway.

(She thinks she loves her idiot, fake husband too.)

# The sky looks like it’s a breath away from pouring down rain, and Mrs. Gillyflower’s leading them through Sweetville. There’s something disturbingly perfect about it, Clara thinks, as she walks past it’s garden and mill that both look a little too flawless. It all reminds Clara of a plastic dollhouse she once had when she was a little girl, where everything was plastic and perfect and pink, unlived in and unreal.

Her grip tightens around the Doctor’s arm as her eyes get drawn up toward the brick chimney on top of the community mill. There was something very wrong about the chimney, something Clara couldn’t quite put her finger on. Clara didn’t even know a chimney could look wrong until she saw that one. “The name,” Clara says suddenly, “Sweetville.”

Mrs. Gillyflower glances at her, “Yes?”

“Why not name it after yourself? After all, it’s your creation.”

“Gillyflowertown, no, Gillyflowerland,” the Doctor says, his accent getting lost a bit in his excited ad-libbing. “You could have rollercoasters!”

“It’s named after my silent partner, Mr. Sweet,” Mrs. Gillyflower says cagily, ignoring the Doctor’s roller coaster comment altogether. “But you needn’t worry about that. All you need to know is that we only recruit the brightest and the best.”

As Mrs. Gillyflower says this, she reaches out to pat Clara’s cheek, and the gesture somehow feels sinister. Clara’s breath catches, her posture stiffens, and then she senses the Doctor protectively taking a step closer to her.

Magnetic, she reminded herself, they were magnetic, him and her. And as long as he was there by her side, she’d be okay.

It’s only when Clara turns to see men with gloves coming toward her, and feels hands on her shoulders ripping her away from the Doctor that she remembers that not everything magnetic can’t be pulled apart.

#

Clara’s screaming and screaming and screaming, and all she sees is crimson.

And then all she sees is black.

# The world is dark and dizzying and Clara is falling. The last thing she remembers is being frozen, of her world turning black, but now she’s thawing, and she feels like she’s made out of ice and wax. She’s barely awake, darkness and sleep still wrapped around her mind, but she feels herself tipping forward, her legs coming out from under her. Clara tenses, bracing herself for impact, but before she can hit the floor, she feels strong hands catch her around her waist and pull her into a warm embrace. There’s the feeling of tweed under the tips of her fingers and the sense somewhere in the back of her mind that she is somewhere safe, so it’s really no surprise when she opens her eyes and sees she’s in the Doctor’s arms.

Clara thinks that she’s never laid eyes on anything better.

He smiles, “Hello, stranger.”

Clara smiles back, and it’s like it’s automatic, her lips curving upward even before her brain can catch up with what’s happening. She doesn’t even feel fully awake yet, like she’s still in that soft, hazy place between waking and dreaming, but she’s dimly aware of the warmth of his hand on her face, the way the tips of his fingers rest in her hair, and the feel of his thumb brushing gently against the edge of her cheekbone, over and over again.

“Doctor,” Clara says happily, and before she can fully wake up out of this post-unfrozen haze and change her mind (because, really, Fully Awake Clara would probably reprimand her later,) Sleepy Clara reaches a hand up and taps him on the nose with her forefinger, a giddy smile coming across her face when she does.

“Mmhmm,” the Doctor hums in apparent amusement, mirroring her own smile as he stares down at her. She still feels somewhat unsteady from being frozen, and he must be able to sense it because he’s still holding her up, and he shifts to slide his hand from her side to the curve of her spine.

They stand there for a moment, grinning at each other like idiots, like the universe has narrowed down to them, just them, but then something catches Clara’s attention out of the corner of her eye, and it’s enough to make her realize three things at once:

One - They were still in Sweetville.

Two - They were still in danger and her and the Doctor (probably, maybe, very likely) shouldn’t be standing there as if they had all the time in the world.

Three -  There was a lizard woman in a dress standing there too.

“What’s going on?” Clara whispers.

The Doctor smiles, and Clara notices he still hasn’t bothered letting go of her.

“Oh, haven’t you heard, love?“ he asks in that terrible, terrible phoney accent of his that she’s secretly missed. “There’s trouble at the mill.”

#

The Doctor’s talking a mile a minute and he’s got that look on his face again, where Clara can practically see the cogs turning like clockwork in his mind as he tries to figure things out. He’s frowning now, and pacing back and forth and back and forth.

“A parasite’s created this red poison, and it’s been hanging around, lurking in the shadows of Sweetville,” he says, still pacing, a dizzying blur of flapping hands and long legs. “As has Mrs. Gillyflower.”

“Doctor,” Clara says slowly, her thoughts coming together bit by bit, like a constellation connecting, “I’ve been thinking. The chimney I saw - “

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says repeating the word like it’s some sort of touchstone as he continues pacing and Clara hums in annoyance. “We’re way past that now. Yucky red parasite from the time of the dinosaurs pitches up in Victorian Yorkshire.” He makes a face, “Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Yeah,” Clara agrees, “but the chimney -“

“But what’s the connection to Mrs. Gillyflower?“ He asks, still not stopping in his movement. “Where’s she keeping it? What’s the -“

“Doctor,” Clara says, and this time she reaches up (and up, because no matter how high her heels are, he still towers over her), and firmly places her hands on his shoulders.

The Doctor stills under her touch, like he’s a runaway ship and she’s his anchor, settling him in place.

“An empty mill,” Clara says, hands still on his shoulders, holding him there with her. “A chimney that doesn’t blow smoke.”

She watches as her words sink in and his eyes travel up to the ceiling, where they stare for a moment in thought, before coming back down to her.

“Clever clogs,” he decrees.

Clara tilts her head back, grinning up at him, “Miss me?”

In reply, the Doctor reaches for her, cupping her face in his hands, and she can feel the warmth of his palms against her cheeks, the tips of his long fingers brushing against the tender skin behind her ear. And Clara can’t help but smile as he leans in to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Yeah,” he says. “Lots.”

#

The poison’s found in the mill, Mrs. Gillyflower falls to her death, and the inappropriately named poison-creating parasite Mr. Sweet ends up smashed and scattered into a hundred tiny little pieces all over the floor.

Clara can’t bring herself to feel very sorry about that fact.

#

Now Clara’s back in the TARDIS, sitting in front of the vanity in the wardrobe and undoing her bun, her hair spilling across her shoulders as she does. It’s then that she hears footsteps approaching, and when she puts down her hairpin and glances back up in the mirror, Clara sees the reflection of the Doctor entering the doorway.

“You’ve been gone a bit,” Clara tells his reflection, not bothering to turn around. “You get things sorted?” “Yeah, and then some,” he says, and then, completely unexpectedly, he adds, “Now, hold out your hands.”

Clara’s guard goes up, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. The last time he’d told her that, he’d dumped a handful of murky teal water and a sticky alien octopus in her cupped hands.

Clara hadn’t cared much for the surprise.

She swivels in her chair, the fabric of her dress twisting around her legs as she turns toward him. “Why?”

”Got you something to make up for the, you know,” he flaps his hand as if he can wave the whole situation away with a flick of his wrist, “almost dying thing.”

“Doctor, if you got me a present every time I almost died, you’d have to buy me something every Wednesday,” Clara chides lightly. “Besides, I wasn’t really scared. I knew you wouldn’t let me die here in Victorian times.”

At her words, his face goes pale and his posture turns stiff, and he stares at her both in a way that’s sharp as if he’s trying to spot something in her eyes, and in a way that’s hazy, as if he’s not really seeing her at all. Her words must’ve meant something, Clara realizes, she just doesn’t know what, but that look on his face that’s halfway between anger and heartbreak scares her in a way she doesn’t like, so she tries to pull him out of it.

“Doctor,” Clara says, trying to snap him out of whatever mood he’s in or flashback he’s having, “you going to give me my present now? Or are you going to keep me waiting?”

The Doctor blinks, shakes his head.

“Right,” he says. “Hold out your hands.”

Clara complies, and then the Doctor places her present in her hands, and Clara finds herself holding a book.

No, Clara corrects herself, not just a book, the book, the edition of Pride and Prejudice she’d admired in the bookshop. She blinks for a moment, shocked into silence and not quite believing what she’s holding.

“Uh,” the Doctor says, twitching nervously when she doesn’t say anything, those ridiculously long arms spasming awkwardly at his side. Somewhere in the back of Clara’s mind, it registers that he’s waiting for her reply, that she should be thanking him, but all her words get jumbled up before they can even reach the tip of her tongue because her brain is still catching up to the fact that this is really, truly, actually happening.

“Was that the wrong book?” the Doctor asks, “I’ll admit, I was a bit distracted by the nutty agent of the even nuttier Mrs. Gillyflower, but I thought that - “ Clara doesn’t let him finish his sentence, instead she leaps out of her chair and up in the air to fling her arms around his neck. She collides with him, and he nearly tumbles over at the force of her hug, but he rights himself, catching her around her waist as he laughs, and she‘s close enough to him that can feel his laughter vibrate through her body, and it feels safe and warm and happy like nothing else she knows.

“So,” he says, “right one, then?”

“Definitely, definitely the right one,” she confirms.

She tucks her face into the crook of his neck for a moment, her cheek brushing against the soft tweed of his coat, and then she pulls away, her arms unwinding and sliding down his shoulders. The movement causes something to catch the light, sending a shimmer around them, lighting up the wardrobe before disappearing, and Clara’s confused for a moment, before her eyes land on the ring on her finger.

“Ah,” she says, her right hand reaching toward the ring on her left one. “Guess I’d better give this back to you then.”

“Yeah, you’d better,” he hums in agreement, before adding, “Unless…”

She cocks an eyebrow, “Unless?”

“The 1920s.”

“The 1920s?”

“The roaring 20s in Los Angeles,” he elaborates, and she can already hear the excitement bleeding into his words, feel the energy radiating off him like a fire-cracker, lighting up the night. “1927 specifically. Prohibition, speakeasies, and…a hotel that’s rumored to have many guests check in but only half check out.”

He pauses there, and his words hang in the air, both an invitation and a challenge, an adventure and a dare, and there’s also the promise of both something dazzling and something dangerous.

“So,” the Doctor says, flashing her a smile, “fancy being Mrs. Smith again?”

He holds his hand out to her, waiting for her to take it, and somewhere in the back of her mind, Clara thinks she should probably feel wary of the danger. She doesn’t, though. She feels like she’s coming alive. This pull he has towards her is something magnetic, something electric, and Clara knows she can’t resist, so she reaches out and takes his hand.

“Go on, Doctor,” she says, grinning as she feels his fingers closing around her own. “Give me another adventure.”

And so he does.

[amphtaminedreams]

Film Tier Ranking 2019: A Bad Year for Bird Films

Hi to anyone reading,

I’ve finally put it together: my 2019 film tier ranking! I know tier rankings are a bit 6 months ago but seeing British crisps sorted into god, good, mid and shit tier all over Twitter, the format really resonated with me and I was like I MUST USE THIS AT SOME POINT! And I guess since there probably isn’t much of an audience for crisp tier rankings on Tumblr, it makes more sense for me to do it with films instead, especially as doing a 2019 year in film review was something I previously claimed I would do; here’s to 2020 and following through on my proposals.

I think 2019 in general was an okay year for film, with the end of the year definitely outselling the beginning. One thing to bear in mind is that a lot of films that I would’ve been able to see in 2019, I.E Little Women and Parasite, didn’t come out until 2020 in the UK so they won’t make it onto this year’s list. It’s not a snub by any means. I more fall in line with the Elsie Fisher Film Awards school of thought than the Oscars, which have yet again disregarded several incredible performances this year: Florence Pugh in Midsommar, Taron Egerton in Rocketman, Lupita Nyongo in Us, and of course, Greta Gerwig’s direction of Little Women. I’m sure there are many more but those are the first few that come to mind. Oh to be in 2017 when nominations made fractionally more sense.

This list also includes films that weren’t necessarily released this year, but that I just got around to watching; there were a couple of disappointments but also a lot of films I can’t believe it took me this long to finally watch and have definitely made their way into my favourites. My goal for this year is to get through even more of the films on my verrrry long Letterboxd watchlist, and more specifically, watch said films without going on my phone, which is a really bad habit of mine. I find it hard to sit still! Let me live! 

I also want to try and put aside my prejudices about visual quality and watch more pre-2000s movies this year; it’s really bad but I never managed to get more than half an hour into Psycho, of all films, solely because I couldn’t deal with the black and white. In 2020, I am going to stop being a whiney Gen Z/cusp millenial-er and give older films the chance they deserve.

So, without further ado, here is my film tier ranking of everything I watched in 2019! If you make it til the end and have any thoughts or disagreements, let me know. I love to hear other’s opinions and get new perspectives on things and am totally open to any criticism. Happy reading:-)

God Tier

Knives Out (Rian Johnson, 2019)

Knives Out. What a film.

I feel like I waited forever to see this at the cinema. They must have started showing trailers for it in, like, August, and I had to wait til mid-November to see it. How are you gonna just dangle a film with Toni Colette and Lakeith Stanfield in my face and then make me wait 3 months? Totally unethical.

But that being said, when it finally came around and I did see it, as much as I love Toni and Lakeith, there was one stand out and it wasn’t either of them: ANA DE ARMAS. I have to admit I’d never heard of her before but she acted the shit out of a role I feel I’d ordinarily find irritating and gimmicky. Daniel Craig, whose character seemed annoying as fuck in the trailer, was actually surprisingly funny.

Stylistically, it was a very cool film and I liked the subtle commentary on class that was running throughout. Also, I thought the ending was very clever. My issue with a lot of whodunnits is that they just pick someone who doesn’t make sense for shock factor *cough, Bobby Beale in Eastenders, cough* but the shocks here were more in the details. 

Hustlers (Lorene Scafaria, 2019)

There wasn’t one single moment of Hustlers I didn’t enjoy and it’s quite amazing that there wasn’t one single point in this film about strippers that I felt gratuitously sexualised women. THAT is why you fund female directors. It made the whole thing look like a calculated art form, which I think the unsexy amongst us can all agree that it is. Constance Wu was a fantastic lead, J-Lo was kind of robbed for a supporting actress nom, and Keke Palmer and Lili Reinhart were hilarious too. 

Midsommar (Ari Aster, 2019)

Midsommar was such an experience that it took me a good few days afterwards to decide whether I actually liked it. I saw it the day it came out because I loved Hereditary so much and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. I kind of had an idea of the way it was going to go, we could all kind of guess evil cult was the route that was being taken from the trailer, but I just didn’t realise quite how weird it’d get. 

The gore was great, the visuals were stunning and the character arcs were surprising and for that reason, I think this is another game changer for horror from Ari Aster. I didn’t love it like I loved Hereditary but it continues to play on my mind and 7 months later I still can’t resist a good “Things you Missed in Hereditary” or “Hereditary Themes Explained” Youtube video essay. That’s how you know a film fucked with you and that’s the ultimate goal of going into a horror for me. Put that on my headstone after I inevitably get myself into some mortally dangerous conflict because I want to “get fucked with” a little bit.

Booksmart (Olivia Wilde, 2019)

So here’s the thing with Booksmart: I was getting progressively more and more drunk throughout it so I might be a little biased when I say I loved it. That being said, worth revere seems to be a commonly held opinion so I’ll stick to my guns. Plus, movies like this, which just focus on girls living their lives, are few and far between. Why have we had to wait THIS long for the female Superbad?

IDK. But Kaitlyn Dever, Beanie Feldstein and Billie Lourd proved it’s definitely a genre worth investing in so hopefully we see more lighthearted female-led coming of age comedies. One Ladybird per year isn’t enough for me.

The Favourite (Yorgos Lanthimos, 2018)

I included The Favourite in my 50 Films You’ve Got to Watch that I made earlier this year so I don’t have all that much to say about it that I haven’t said already. To summarise, it’s an instant classic: the cinematography, the cast, the lines, it’s all perfection. 

Suspiria (Luca Guadagnino, 2018)

I also included Suspiria in my 50 Films You’ve Got to Watch list so sorry if I’m repeating myself, but I adored everything about it. If I had to sum it up in one sentence I’d say divine feminine energy, but inverted. Plus ballet. That dancing scene in the mirrored room will probably never leave my mind (if you’ve watched it, trust me, you’ll know the one I'm talking about), and if there were awards given out for creepy montages in horror, this would win all of them. It still blows my mind that Tilda Swinton played 3 characters in this film; 2 of them are so distinctly different, if anyone put two and two together without prior knowledge of this fact then I’ll blow my own head up too. This is why I got so mad when there was all that discussion around her being the new female Doctor Who and there were people asking who she was. How can you not know who Tilda fucking Swinton is!? She’s a legend! 

Sorry, is the wannabe film snob in me showing?

Annihilation (Alex Garland, 2018)

Though I initially watched it because it’s branded as a horror, Annihilation ended up being a surprisingly introspective take on human nature and our self-destructive tendencies. Nothing really went the way I expected it to, even though I was constantly trying to guess that trajectory from beginning to end. 

Visually, Annihilation is magnificent. Like, it’s tense, and where exactly the plot is going is shrouded in mystery, but most importantly, it’s super fucking pretty. Sure, the only thing that was mildly horrifying was the *SPOILER* end result of that bear scene but I didn’t mind too much because there was always that edge-of-your-seat possibility something like that would happen again. 

Also I realised that Gina Roduriguez is really hot in this! I would just say in general but that video of her saying the n-word kind of took away shot at real world magnetism. WHY SUCH A SHITTY APOLOGY VIDEO!? WHY?!

Assassination Nation (Sam Levinson, 2018)

So I didn’t clock until I was looking up directors that Sam Levinson, Euphoria director, also directed this, and suddenly everything makes sense in the world. They both have that dreamlike, exaggerated feel that perfectly captures the emotional rollercoaster that is being a teenager, only in Assassination Nation obviously the threats are a bit more...tangible. As in its actually other people trying to kill our protagonists this time round, not just angst. 

Not gonna lie, it’s not a patch on Euphoria because that show is probably the best thing I watched all year, but I did thoroughly enjoy it, even if I did feel the social commentary, despite how in your face it was, got a bit lost in translation at times. I think it’s the kind of film that, once again, would’ve felt more genuine coming from a female director, however that’s not to take away from how witty, modern, and completely relevant it still is as we move into 2020.

Sorry To Bother You (Boots Riley, 2018)

Right. WHAT THE FUCK!?

Why don’t more people talk about this film? Like it has Tessa Thompson and the world’s best earrings! Lakeith Stanfield getting more than 10 cumulative minutes of screen time! Armie Hammer being that bitch we all knew he was irl (probably)! Scathing critiques of late stage capitalism! It’s insane, in the absolute best way.

SPOILERS AHEAD: I had a mini paragraph written about the last hour of the film and the descent into pure unadulterated chaos, and how it’s like, the internet’s best kept secret, because ordinarily you lot can’t keep your mouths shut about a film or TV’s shows most crucial reveals for more than 5 minutes and THEN...My FBI agent must be feeling real cheeky because THIS tweet pops up on my Twitter timeline. 

Fuck this shit, I’m out. Onto the next film. MI5 stop peeping my drafts. 

Eighth Grade (Bo Burnham, 2018)

I don’t want to repeat what I said about Eighth Grade in my 50 Films you Should Watch list but Elsie Fisher’s performance in this is why I wish the Oscars also had some kind of rising star award category à la the BAFTAs. Honestly, every 13/14 year old should watch this; it’s a reminder that although feeling like an outsider is by its nature quite isolating, it’s prolific enough that a 29 year old man, 10 years out of “high school”, gets it.

American Animals (Bart Layton, 2018)

My sister and I absolutely loved this film so you can image our disappointment when we turned round to our parents at the end and our enthusiasm wasn’t matched...as in, I’m pretty sure they were both asleep for a lot of it. WHICH I DON’T GET. Because to me, there wasn’t a dull moment. American Animals is what happens when a group of university age boys with the finesse of the American Vandal Turd Burglar try and apply that to an Evil Genius stye heist, part Netflix, talking head abundant documentary, part live-action film. Splicing a stylistic reenactment with interview footage of the men who really attempted to commit the crime elevated what I probably would have put in the Good Tier™ to the God Tier™; seeing the guy Evan Peters is playing alongside Evan Peters playing him, now only the remnants of the arrogance we see in the reenactment left behind, sharply reminds you of the fall from grace these boys deservedly went through. Plus Barry Keoghan from The Killing of a Sacred Deer is in it, proving that unsettlingly stiff is NOT in fact his natural state. 

Gerald’s Game (Mike Flanagan, 2017)

I wish there was a shorthand way to say I wrote about this in my 50 Films You Should Watch list so I’m gonna keep it short but here we are! This was great! If The Haunting of Hill House isn’t proof enough, Gerald’s Game (not to take away any credit from Stephen King) is a reminder that Mike Flanagan is the king of subtle, niggling sensation in your stomach that something is about to go very wrong horror. I hear he and Ari Aster have a timeshare situation going on with the crown.

The Ritual (David Bruckner, 2017)

Okay, so this is the film that made me realise we should all be very scared of forests. Nope, all the documentaries into the Aokigahara Forest weren’t enough, apparently. I subjected myself to this too, as if my unfit, cold-blooded, bug-fearing, scared of the dark ass doesn’t already have enough concerns about my survival odds in the great outdoors. 

Really though, setting aside, this film maintains the sense of dread throughout and keeps you guessing what’s going on until the very end. Much like The Descent, the group dynamic and characters are realistic enough that it adds to the believability of a scenario I, in principle, know would never happen to the extent that I might keep away from vast, wooded spaces for a while just in case.

Dumbo (Tim Burton, 2019)

If film Twitter came across this post and saw I’d placed Dumbo in a higher tier than If Beale Street Could Talk I can only imagine the outrage. And sure, the latter is probably a much higher quality film. But sometimes a movie, for reasons you can’t quite put your finger on, gets you right in the sweet spot, and Dumbo did that for me. Maybe it was that the CGI elephant reminded me of my cat (I know, leave me alone), maybe I was emotional that day, I don’t know, all I know is that I cried like 5 times and was smiling for the rest of it-to be fair, the exploitation of animals for our entertainment is something that is still very much going on and that was something that was playing on my mind a lot whilst I was watching it. IRL Dumbos should be free too. Dumbo rights.

The VVitch (Robert Eggers, 2016)

This film taught me that there’s nothing wrong with joining a coven of young witches and getting naked and levitating around a fire. And that’s an important life lesson. Plus it gave us the quote “wouldst thou like to live deliciously?”, which is not only so perfectly creepy and simultaneously empowering that I had to get it tattooed but also, created ASMR. I just made that last bit up obviously but Black Philip getting his own ASMR Youtube channel?

The Descent (Neil Marshall, 2006)

For me, much like The Ritual, The Descent is a perfect horror film: it’s got the ghouls but the situation the characters find themselves in is also terrifying by its own merit. The reason The Descent made it onto my 50 Films list and the Ritual didn’t is because, let’s be honest, it’s 2020 and you can get mobile signal in most places. You could probably at least make a 999 call if you got lost in a forest. If you DID get stuck in an underground cave and it collapsed in on itself, you’d be pretty fucked; the idea of it makes me shudder and I will never set foot in an underground tunnel at any point in my life for any amount of money EVER after seeing this. Also, the women in this are great and the creatures in this are genuinely quite terrifying, especially the first time you see them. 

Chicago (Rob Marshall, 2003)

Ah, Chicago, the last film on the God Tier™, proving that this list is in no particular order. Because WHAT A FIM. WHY DON’T PEOPLE TALK ABOUT THIS MORE?! Like don’t get me wrong, I know it deservedly won Best Picture in 2003 but I’m talking about right now! I mean, fucking Titanic is still out here getting referenced left, right and centre and yet Chicago gets paid dust! Can you tell I’m mad and that I think Titanic is hugely overrated?! Is that maybe coming across?!

ALL the songs are bops, Catherine Zeta-Jones is hot (I saw someone on Letterboxd say that Catherine Zeta-Jones in this film was their bisexual awakening and honestly, if I hadn’t already known I was a raging bisexual, same, because I FELT things in that All That Jazz opening) and Cell Block Tango is the revenge fantasy anthem I never knew I needed. Smart, tongue in cheek, beautifully shot and makes men look like little bitches which is probably why my dad hated it but what did I expect.

Good Tier

Zombieland: Double Tap (Ruben Fleischer, 2019)

Onto the first film of the good tier, Zombieland: Double Tap definitely exceeded my expectations. I was super worried about the prospect of a sequel as I love the first one so much and assumed it would be crap. Obviously, it doesn’t match up to the original because the original WAS so original, but it was still a fun, easy, witty ride. And I was SO glad they didn’t *SPOILERS AHEAD* kill off Tallahassee at the end because I really thought that was coming and it seemed so predictable and unnecessary. Highlight was the introduction of the lookalikes at Graceland.

Judy (Rupert Goold, 2019)

So, this is the first of two consecutive rants I’m about to go on about Oscar nominations and people’s reactions online. Prepare yourself.

I’ll start with the underlying message: just because you think something else deserves the praise more, doesn’t mean the film/album/*insert whatever artistic medium you wish here* that IS getting the praise is shit. 

Like people are angry that Lupita Nyongo wasn’t nominated for best actress for her performance in Us which is COMPLETELY valid as she carried that film on her back. In the same vein, people are also angry that more women of colour haven’t been nominated for best actress. Also valid; I’ve yet to see The Farewell but I’ve heard great things about Akwafina’s performance and I love her so even though I haven’t seen it, I’m gonna take the general consensus that she should’ve been nominated too. The Oscars definitely has a problem with recognising the work of POC. BUT, because of this, people are angry that Renee Zellweger has been nominated for her performance in Judy, saying that it’s typical “Oscar bait”. I agree, it is typical Oscar bait. However, a lot of the people saying this will in the same breath say (or tweet rather) that they haven’t actually SEEN Judy. 

How can you possibly say that Renee Zellweger doesn’t deserve any of the praise she’s getting when you haven’t even seen the film? Don’t get me wrong, the film itself is good but not outstanding (hence its place in this tier), but you can see Renee genuinely put her heart and soul into this film; it was powerful, and it was sympathetic but it was also nuanced and subtle where they could’ve just capitalised on all the sensationalised stories of the actions of a woman clearly deeply suffering in her final years and had it be full of shouting and screaming. The Wizard of Oz has always kind of felt like home to me because of the childhood nostalgia factor and so I’ve always been interested in Judy and I think Renee captured her heart and her spirit in a way she would be deeply honoured by. Maybe the film itself doesn’t deserve the acclaim it’s getting but I think Zellweger definitely deserves the nom and I think most people who’ve actually seen it wouldn’t contest that. 

Joker (Todd Philipps, 2019)

Okay so second rant. I’m sorry. I have a lot of feelings. Most of them aimed at the annoying tendency of internet users, Film Twitter™ and Letterboxd users I’m looking at you in particular, to be wildly exaggerative. 

There just seems to be no nuance online. It’s not just yeah, I didn’t like the film personally and the message could be perceived in a certain way by certain individuals, it’s I HATE THIS FILM AND IT’S DANGEROUS AND THE DIRECTOR FUCKING SUCKS. I noticed this trend when La La Land came out (which if I had watched last year would certainly be in God tier for me). It’s like, if a film initially receives a lot of praise and buzz, there’s almost this wave of compensatory vehement criticism in response that’s usually disproportionate to how controversial the film actually is. People didn’t like that Joker was popular because they didn’t like Joker so suddenly it’s the worst film ever and the possibility of it getting any critical acclaim is wrong. I even saw people berating Todd Philipps for channelling Martin Scorsese as he’s the only person to ever be influenced and take direction from one of the most dominant figures in film of the 20th and 21st century. I mean, what’s wrong with that?! If it was any other director, it’d be called homage. But because everything has to be seen through this malicious lens, its copying. 

I think one of the few very valid criticisms about Joker was that it further perpetuates the idea that psychotic people are dangerous, and I can totally see where they’re coming from. At the same time, we have to accept that whilst the majority of people who are psychotic aren’t a danger to anyone apart from themselves, most “dangerous” people don’t just become dangerous because they thought, fuck it, why not? A lot of people in the prison system ARE suffering with some kind of mental illness. The character’s psychosis doesn’t make him dangerous, it’s his underlying resentment and sense of entitlement that grows throughout the film that makes him dangerous, and I think a lot of people seem to miss this point. They say that the way the film ends implies Philipps is justifying the actions of the films protagonist. However, we KNOW the Joker is an unreliable narrator, he’s one of pop culture’s most infamous villains and that being said, both in film and in the real world, few villains see themselves as the villain. Joker is about why HE thinks he’s justified in doing what he does, not why he IS justified in doing what he does because he’s not, and that’s pretty clear from the moment he shoots someone in the head on live TV. Honestly, I think there’s a bit of wilful misinterpretation going on because people don’t like that film

I liked Joker. It was gritty, it was interesting, and sufficiently dark. I didn’t think it was the best film of the year but I understand why it got the praise it did. Obviously, it’s okay that people disagree and DON’T like it. But can we please get a bit more well-acquainted with the middle ground?

It: Chapter Two (Andres Muschietti, 2019)

Okay, essays over. Back to regular scheduled programming of less impassioned reviews. Though I will say I deserved better than my Letterboxd comment of “so you can just fucking roast Pennwyise to death?” getting absolutely 0 traction. One day my grand total of 5 followers, one of which is my sister, will recognise my brilliance (lol).

It’s hard to say how much I really liked this as I think my perspective of how much I did enjoy it is warped by how much I disliked the first one. Child actors really aren’t my thing and the only cast members I warmed to in the first one were Finn Wolfhard and Jack Dylan Grazer whereas the cast here were a lot more likeable, imo. Bill Hader, Jessica Chastain and James Ransone were all great, with the only let down being James Mcavoy; I love him, don’t get me wrong, but I just think he was really miscast in this role. 

Another thing I enjoyed a lot more about this instalment was that due to the more episodic/anthology-like/Creepshow-esque structure with each character conquering different monsters from their past individually, the narrative felt like it had a lot more direction, and it didn’t drag as much despite it having a significantly longer runtime. I haven’t read the Stephen King novels and I don’t know much of the pacing issues are down to them so this is me coming at it from a screenwriting angle but it felt as if the climax of the first film just kept going on and on. Every time I thought it had finished there’d be another confrontation between the kids and Pennywise whereas Chapter 2 seemed to have a more definitive third act and I appreciated that.

Rocketman (Dexter Fletcher, 2019)

So, here’s one where I WILL agree with the general online consensus: if Rami Malek got nominated for playing Freddie Mercury last year and Renee got nominated for playing Judy Garland, why the fuck didn’t Taron Egerton get one for playing Elton John? Why didn’t Rocketman itself get a nomination when Judy did? Though I personally preferred Judy because I’m more interested in her story, technically and narratively Rocketman is the better film in my opinion.  This was so cleverly edited and sequenced and told with such a brutal honesty on Elton John’s part (it was co-produced by his husband David Furnish and he was heavily involved in everything from the set to the script), that I can only come to the conclusion that the obligatory biopic nomination only comes when the focus of said biopic is no longer with us as a kind of honorary thing. Whilst something like Bohemian Rhapsody was much more of an easy watch (which just goes to show how glossed over Freddie Mercury’s life was in the film), the way the story was told, by the time we got to I’m Still Standing that happy ending felt so earned.

Aladdin (Guy Ritchie, 2019)

You can hate all you want, Prince Ali and Never Had a Friend Like Me are fucking bops and somehow they were even better in this incarnation of the film. I was initially hesitant about Will Smith being cast but rather than trying to impersonate Robin Williams he went his own route and it really worked. He was the highlight of the film. It was undeniably visually stunning too. Madonna’s ex did good.

Us (Jordan Peele, 2019)

Ah, I feel so conflicted when it comes to Us. Like, there were some really strong points and it’s definitely a good standalone horror movie. It’s just you can’t help but compare it to Get Out, and with that unsatisfactory exposition dump ending, I left feeling so disappointed. It seemed to me that Jordan Peele got in a bit over his head here with trying to tie such a vague social metaphor and the actual in-universe plot together, and so ended up leaving both a bit half-baked. He tried to OutPeele himself and for me, it didn’t work. 

The doppelgängers were so scary as this ambiguous, vaguely threatening presence that if you are gonna give us a full blown, sit down explanation of why they exist it needs to be really bloody good. And this explanation didn’t make much sense. For example, *SPOILERS AHEAD* I imagine that the tethered just not being able to walk up the escalator into the “real world” was supposed to be some kind of metaphor for social mobility but it’s not fleshed out enough to work. In our world, there are REASONS why the idea of social mobility is flawed. In the film, it’s just like gee, if they chose to just walk up the escalator and go on this murderous rampage now, why couldn't they have decided to do it years ago back before they all lost their fucking minds? Why were they just copying the originals for all those years? HOW did they know what they were doing? See, the metaphor as I understand it is supposed to be that we depend on the oppression of others like us in order to maintain our social status, but not only is this kind of too general a statement to try and use a feature length film to make, I don’t really understand how this dynamic works within the narrative of the film. Technically, there's nothing to stop the tethered and the originals co-existing apart from the tethered deciding not to walk up the fucking escalator. We’re not talking a bourgeoisie-proletariat relationship here. The explanation of it all just being a “government project gone wrong” was too vague seeing as the plot working seemed prior to this to hinge onto something vaguely supernatural and the eventual plan of the doppelgängers seemingly had no purpose or application to the real world like the climax of Get Out did. It just left me feeling kind of like...why? Why did this all happen? When the ending and the twist was that predictable (the old Pretty Little Liars finale style twin switcheroo was blatantly obvious from the mother’s “it’s like she’s a different person” line near the beginning, let’s be real), I was expecting some final revelation that flipped my expectation on its head or at least felt helped things click into place. Instead, it seemed a bit hamfisted and like I was supposed to feel things were deeper and more significant than they actually were.

All that being said, I appreciate that if anyone other than the writer of Get Out had come out with this movie, I probably wouldn’t have these issues. Us was funny, it was fresh, and the concept of doppelgängers is something I’m so glad to see brought back into our modern pop culture database. The people are right, Lupita was incredible in this and it is a travesty that she didn’t get nominated. My sister, who was so creeped out by her vocal performance that she had her fingers in her ears every time Red spoke, still won’t let me attempt an impression of it. And that Fuck the Police sequence? Iconic. 

On the Basis of Sex (Mimi Leder, 2019)

I apologise in advance for the shittiest “review” I’ll ever write, but honestly I can’t remember all too much about this film other than it being good. Ruth Bader Ginsburg, I’m sorry. You’re a cool lady.

If Beale Street Could Talk (Barry Jenkins, 2019)

EURGH, THIS WAS SUCH A BEAUTIFUL FIM. The score, the shots, the rawness. I imagine it’s devastatingly real. Like, *SPOILERS AHEAD* you think there’s going to be a happy ending but there’s not. It should be disappointing but it’s an honest choice. And side note: fuck those annoying middle aged white ladies in the seats behind me and my friend who lost their shit and started giggling every time the N-word was used, JFC. I hate living in a Tory stronghold. 

Cam (Daniel Goldhaber, 2018)

So, as I said, I’m a fan of the whole doppelgänger thing. It freaks me out. The point in this film where the protagonist is approaching her bedroom door whilst she watches HERSELF livestreaming from inside that same bedroom had my heart in my mouth wondering what she was going to encounter on the other side. And you see, the ending of this was a lot more ambiguous than the ending of Us, so I should’ve had less questions. Whilst I’ve seen other people saying it WAS unsatisfactory and that they felt like we were owed more of an explanation, I liked the simplicity of the answer we got and the wiggle room it leaves for our own interpretation. The way I see it, given that we were told by the fan the protagonist meets with in the motel room that *SPOILERS AHEAD* it was a case of some kind of software copying these women’s likenesses to steal their viewers and thus their profits, is that Cam is a kind of a commentary on the capitalist exploitation of women’s bodies and the demand for (and desensitisation towards) sexually violent content; we don't necessarily need to know who is behind the virtual cloning, which is terrifyingly believable given how realistic some of the deepfakes I’ve seen are, because it doesn’t matter. We're basically told money is the motive and we know the kind of lengths some people will go, and someone DID go to in Cam, to in order to make a shitload of money and that’s as true in real life as it is scary. On the other hand, if you want to believe there’s a more supernatural presence behind the events of the film, there’s enough left to the imagination that you can go down that route too. Some films are better left un-exposition dumped and this is the proof. My one criticism, is that, like many films, it would be even better if directed by a woman; I’ve seen people say that its portrayal of online sex work isn’t entirely accurate and though I can’t say with certainty that women working in this industry weren’t consulted in the first place, I imagine a female director would not only be more likely to listen to their concerns but could translate the confusion and fear that comes with being expected to makes oneself sexually desirable to get ahead in the world but then shamed and used for doing so even more viscerally. A few tweaks and it’d be God Tier.

Colette (Wash Westmoreland, 2019)

The costumes, sets, and Keira were so, so stunning. Also it was just an inspiring, beautiful story. The navigation of womanhood, so called “deviant” sexuality and self-expression against the backdrop of early 20th century Paris with a load of Edwardian era tailoring thrown in, it’s everything I could possibly want and more; 10/10 moodboard content. 

The Boy (William Brent Bell, 2016)

I can’t believe this film was made in 2016, and it almost makes me move it down to mid tier based on the fact that a lot of the allowances I made for cheese factor I made on the assumption it came out earlier in the decade. BUT, that being said, I was creeped out for a good portion of this film. Most horrors I watch and I’m probably a bit too chilled (a head comes off or some witchy ass ghost screams into the camera and my only thought is some kind of judgement of the SFX), and yet I felt like watching this behind my hands. I don’t know what it is about dolls and puppets, Chucky was my childhood fear even though I never actually watched the film, but something about the uncanny valley of it all makes me just spend the whole time they’re on screen silently praying they don’t start moving or talking. So in a way, given the resolution of the film *SPOILERS AHEAD*, the premise of The Boy was actually a lot scarier to me than the reveal of what was really going on. Someone hiding in my walls? NBD. That demons are real and that they live inside creepy old dolls? Terrifying. Why does everybody I debate this with disagree!? You can't call the police on a demon! At least with a human being you can stick them with the pointy ending of something! Regardless, I enjoyed the journey and trying to work out how things would end and if there IS anybody secretly living inside my house right now, even if you are a supposedly dead murderous family member (last time I checked I didn’t have any of those so I should be all good), kindly vacate. Thanks.

Oprhan (Jaume Collet-Serra, 2009)

So the fact that this film is based on a real life case makes this all the more terrifying. It was a bit campy and tacky at times but the shot of *SPOILERS AHEAD* Esther taking off her makeup in the mirror and revealing her true age will always be iconic. Plus I love Vera Farmiga, even though I did struggle to see her as anyone other than Norma Bates. 

First Reformed (Paul Schrader, 2018)

A hauntingly beautiful film with a lot of room for interpretation. There were so many gorgeous shots and so much subtext, this is proper 10/10 media studies essay material.

The Invitation (Karyn Kusama, 2015)

I would say the concept and implications of this film, which don’t fully hit you til the final shots, are a lot better than the film itself. It feels very realistic though and is definitely tense.

As Above, So Below (John Erick Dowdle, 2014)

I was so stoned when I watched this that a lot of the allegory and Dante’s inferno references went straight over my head, and it just seemed absolutely balls to the wall wild. I couldn’t buy that the characters would just KEEP GOING either when things began to get terrifying, like people in horror films really out here making the most nonsensical decisions and it drives me mad. But anyway, it was definitely entertaining and there’s a lot more to it in terms of plot and mythology than most similar quality horrors and I appreciate that 

Climax (Gaspar Noe, 2018)

Climax is an interesting one that I think I’ll have to watch again to judge how much I truly like it. As with Us, I know it’s a good film, but I think my expectations of what it was going to be left me slightly disappointed. See, when I read about the premise I assumed that the horror was going to come from seeing the perspective of the characters on said acid trip and that leaves so much room for any kind of terrifying visuals you want whether that be something based in realism or fucked up creatures of the imagination. Buuuuut, it wasn’t that at all; at no point does Climax take place from the first person perspective of any of the characters. Similar to Darren Aronofsky’s Mother, the horror comes from not being able to do anything but watch as everyone starts losing their minds and the situation gets increasingly more dire. It’s pure stress; the acting is so unnervingly good that you really do feel like you’re watching some unintentionally horrific incident take place. That’s not a bad thing-I like it when films make me feel something intense, whether that emotion be positive or negative. It was just a different viewing experience to the one I had precipitated. 

Mid Tier

Nativity (Debbie Isitt, 2009)

I find Mr.Poppy hilarious. Does that make me a child? Probably. I’m not really one for Christmas movies but this one’s alright.

Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (André Øvredal, 2019)

I get that it’s based off a book so it’s not exactly like the “monsters” were a secret in the first place, but for those of us who didn’t read the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark books as a kid, my main beef with this film was that they basically revealed all of said monsters in the trailer. Like how It: Chapter 2 spoiled the scene with Beverly in the old lady’s apartment but with EVERY. SINGLE. CREATURE. The only one that wasn’t was the “jangly man” and the only takeaway I have from him is the “jangly in the streets, but is he jangly in the sheets?” Letterboxd comment I read afterwards. Like the creature designs are the selling point of this film and by showing us them all before we’ve even seen it, any anticipation that would’ve built up from their reveal was kind of gone. Plus, it definitely felt like the writers were trying to ride on the hype train of “It” when they wrote this-only they made it even more childish. I mean, I know it was classed as PG-13 in the US which is maybe part of the reason it was so tame but the Woman in Black was a 12 when it was released here and it could be the bias of my 13 year old brain but I remember that being terrifying to watch in the cinema.

Also, I found it weird how *SPOILERS AHEAD* a couple of the main characters died and there didn’t really seem to be any consequences? Idk, maybe that’s because I found them all a bit one dimensional but I’ve seen others make the same criticism so I don’t think so. 

Don’t get me wrong, this wasn’t a BAD film. It just wasn’t super good.

Charlie’s Angels (Elizabeth Banks, 2019)

I’ve never seen the 2000s Charlie’s Angels so I really don’t have anything to compare to, but I don’t think this was THAT bad. I was fairly entertained throughout and I enjoyed Naomi Scott and Kristen Stewart’s characters. My main issue was the unnecessary inclusion of Noah Centineo, and that weird ass montage at the beginning of stock video shots of girls just...doing miscellaneous things. Why, Elizabeth Banks, why!?

Toy Story 4 (Josh Cooley, 2019)

In some ways, I see why Toy Story 4 was narratively necessary: co-dependency had been a running theme throughout and we needed to see Woody (I feel stupid saying this considering he’s a fucking toy but allow it) realise that he can exist independently of Andy, and that there’s more to life than pleasing somebody else. The way Toy Story 4 ended felt like a satisfying conclusion to his character arc, and as well as the animation being top tier, Forky was a hilarious addition to the cast. However, I don’t think it carried the emotional weight of the 3rd Toy Story, which I think people had accepted as the last instalment and had used to say goodbye to the franchise, and therefore the sceptic in me thinks that the obvious purpose of this addition was a cash grab. I don’t doubt that a lot of people worked incredibly hard on it-I’m just saying that the propelling force behind the film probably wasn’t “the people need to see Woody’s character growth” and that was quite apparent throughout.

Doctor Sleep (Mike Flanagan, 2019)

There were some really beautiful scenes in Doctor Sleep; the astral projection sequences in particular were magnificent and I loved Rebecca Ferguson as the villain. Stylistically, though I didn’t find out he was the director until I was writing this up, you can definitely tell it’s Mike Flanagan, and like I’ve said, he does horror very tastefully. Unfortunately, I just wasn’t all that interested in the premise and I wasn’t hugely invested in grown up Danny Torrance either. The execution was great and the return to the Overlook was brilliant, of course, but the story just wasn’t for me and nothing much sticks out as being a particularly intriguing plot point.

Mary Queen of Scots (Josie Rourke, 2019)

What to say about Mary Queen of Scots other than...yeah, it was alright. I mean, I really should’ve liked it more than I did, because these specific events were part of the Edexcel A-Level history curriculum (Can I get some Rebellion and Disorder Under the Tudors students representation up in here!?) and I usually love seeing history translated onto screen, plus it centred around Margot Robbie and Saoirse Ronan. It was just very...meh. I feel like there’s so much more complex a story here than was told. Both women were undoubtedly a lot more complicated than this film made them out to be and I think to reduce Mary Queen of Scots to a Mary Sue-ish heroine was a disappointing choice. Plus, if we’re gonna talk historical accuracy (which all the racists came out of their caves to discuss at the time), Mary and Elizabeth never actually met; I’m sure there was a more creative way to explore their dynamic than by forcing an interaction that never actually happened.

Apostle (Gareth Evans, 2018)

There were elements of this film I really liked; the mythology behind the cult, I.E what the townsfolk actually worshipped when you stripped away all the secrecy was pretty interesting. However, I felt it depended too much on atmosphere and not enough on plot, and I didn’t warm to any of the characters.

Searching (Aneesh Chaganty, 2018)

It’s difficult because technically, Searching is obviously an ingenious film. My issue is the way it ended, which was imo, super anti-climatic, and honestly pretty predictable in that it seemed like the writers just went out of their way *SPOILERS AHEAD* to make the culprit the person viewers would’ve ruled out by default for shock value, and then work out WHY that person was the culprit from there. I was expecting something a lot darker to be behind the protagonist’s daughter’s disappearance-irl, these situations usually are-and so maybe it’s just me being a bit of a sadist but I was disappointed by how things resolved themselves.

Deliver Us from Evil (Scott Derrickson, 2014)

So, this isn’t boring. It’s interesting to have a horror navigated through the lens of something as procedural as a police investigation. But ultimately, the acting isn’t great, there’s very few scary moments, and it’s a little cheesy. As horrors go, it’s pretty shallow-it is what it says on the tin.

Dumplin’ (Anne Fletcher, 2018)

I watched this right at the beginning of the year and I can’t remember all too much about it, but I remember not hating it? See, looking at the cast, Odeya Rush and Dove Cameron are both in it which would suggest I’d come away hating MYSELF instead but yeah...I got nothing. 

Lights Out (David F.Sandberg, 2016)

The concept is very scary, the execution not so much, and the actual storyline is a little cheesy. I found myself just being like OH MY GOD, IT’S BELLA’S DAD FROM TWILIGHT! And then *SPOILERS AHEAD* getting mad that they did Charlie Swan dirty like that by killing him off in the first 10/15 minutes.

The Goldfinch (John Crowley, 2019)

So I LOVED the book of The Goldfinch. I read it after the Secret History and even though most people seem to prefer the latter, the former hit me right in the sweet spot. The length was almost one of my favourite things about it; I felt by the end that I came to know the character so well he felt like someone I knew in real life. When I heard Ansel Elgort was cast as Theo, I was really happy; I’m not necessarily a huge fan of him as an actor, I've only ever seen him in shitty teen-y dramas which I forced myself to like at the time E.G. The Fault in Our Stars and Divergent, but he looks kind of exactly how I pictured Theo looking. Almost like an Evanna Lynch as Luna Lovegood situation. And then honestly, the actual film came around, and I found myself much preferring the young Theo sections. I get that Theo is quite a muted character and I hate to properly slate anyone’s performance, but Ansel as him felt a bit flat. The casting in general was pretty whack; I love Nicole Kidman but she didn’t feel right as Mrs.Barbour and it seemed that they added a lot to her character to the detriment of Hobie’s character who was a much bigger part of Theo’s life in the book. Also, can we talk about Finn Wolfhard as Boris? I’m sorry, but that accent was godawful. Really bad. Boris’ accent was always supposed to be kind of ambiguous but this was just butchered Russian. Another gripe that my friend and I, who also read the book, had with the Vegas section of the film (which was otherwise probably the best part) was that they never properly explored the complexity of Boris and Theo’s relationship. Obviously I’m not saying that I want 2 minors to shoot a sex scene but it could have been referenced when they reunite as adults because the kiss on the head when they part in Vegas seemed misleadingly platonic. It was heavily implied in the book that there was some kind of love that went beyond friendship between the two and I didn’t get that in the film at all. 

Ultimately, when you try and adapt a book as long as the Goldfinch, you’re always going to have some pacing issues and people complaining that things were left out or that X or Y character didn’t have enough screen time. But in ways, I think the fault here was trying to stay TOO faithful in the limited time available. They definitely could have focussed less on certain relationships and more on others, and when it comes down to it, I think we lost a lot of the grittiness of the original book for the sake of pretty visuals. 

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (Quentin Tarantino, 2019)

Don’t get me wrong, this would 100% be in shit tier if it wasn’t for the last hour or so of the film and all the Manson lore which is so disappointing because I love Tarantino films and I love that era. As for the first couple of hours, I loved the vibe and I love Margot Robbie, and I think it was very respectful towards the Tate family (if anything radiated through the screen more than anything else it was Sharon Tate’s sweetness), but I just wasn’t that invested in Leo or Brad’s characters-it all just felt a bit pointless. I really like Brad Pitt and even that couldn’t really save it for me. Maybe if you took away the remaining 2 hours and 20 minutes of Leo DiCaprio making vague allusions to his own career to a girl only slightly younger than the combined age of all girlfriends past I’d enjoy it more but then I don’t think there’d be much footage left. I guess we should just be grateful that Tarantino managed to refrain from unnecessarily sprinkling the N-word into every other line of his script this time, right?

Also.

SO. MANY. FEET.

But then again, this did result in Brad publicly mocking Tarantino’s foot fetish during his speech at the SAG awards so...I’ll allow it. Sometimes kink shaming is okay. Especially when it’s this guy:

Isn’t it Romantic (Todd Strauss-Schulson, 2019)

I guess as romantic comedies go it wasn’t AWFUL because it was self-aware but still just not my cup of tea and it didn’t really make me laugh. Plus, I feel like it did just follow the plot of a conventional rom-com in the end so...what was it all for, you know?

Green Room (Jeremy Saulnier, 2016)

I think my disappointment with this film was a case of too high expectations. It wasn’t as gory as I hoped, in fact, there was very little on screen gore at all. I was just expecting something very messed up and I didn’t get that. But then again we did get Maeby from Arrested Development singing a fuck Nazis song so I guess that was a nice surprise?

Shit Tier

Birdbox (Susanne Bier, 2018)

First the disappointment of the Goldfinch, and now Birdbox (although they were chronologically the other way round but for the sake of this review, let’s just ignore that). It really is a bad year for bird films. 

It’s weird because when this first came out I remember everyone hyping it up and making memes about it and stuff and then I actually watched it and dear god, it was boring. Honestly, who paid you lot to pretend you cared enough about it enough to make content? And where can I get in on this action?

I mean it didn’t start off terribly but then they killed off SARAH FUCKING PAULSON and somehow managed to make SANDRA FUCKING BULLOCK unlikeable. How does one do that? The mind baffles.

Pet Sematary (Kevin Kolsch & Dennis Widmyer, 2019)

The kid acting was bad, the leads were meh and there wasn’t one creepy moment. This should be SO MUCH MORE hard hitting than it actually was given the subject matter and it just fell completely flat. I will say, though, *SPOILERS AHEAD* that the ending was appropriately doom and gloom and even though I’ve seen lots of others say they hate it it was probably the only thing I actually liked.

The Lion King (Jon Favreau, 2019)

Seth Rogen and Billie Eichner were the only good things about this which is sad because I fucking love Donald Glover and I was so excited when he was cast as Simba. Like, it was pretty but empty and unnecessary and I’m not one of these people who think CGI remakes always have to be this way-I loved Dumbo and I liked the live-action Jungle Book too! I just think the people who made this cared too much about good CGI and realism and less about heart. There was no personality whatsoever and it’s such a waste when you think about the fact that they had Donald and Beyonce on board. 

Red Sparrow (Francis Lawrence, 2018)

Eurgh, I hated this. I think Jennifer Lawrence is stunning and I usually love her films but every shot of her in this felt so male-gaze oriented, even the ones which were sexually violent, which I found to be completely unnecessary in the first place. At times it felt almost torture-porn-y which was not what I expected at all seeing as the marketing made it seem like some kind of female empowerment movie.

It Comes at Night (Trey Edward Shults, 2017)

I literally can’t remember fucking anything from this film. Clearly there is a very, very fine line between atmospheric and boring.

Warm Bodies (Jonathan Levine, 2013)

Maybe it’s because I watched this about 6 years too late and the whole human-girl-falls-in-love-with-supernatural-creature hype train has long since left the station but I couldn’t even finish it. Cutesy necrophilia ain’t for me, sorry Nicholas Hoult. Still love ya. You’ll always be Tony Stonem to me xoxo

Million Dollar Baby (Clint Eastwood, 2005)

I’m pretty sure this movie won a lot of awards so I’m sure this is a very unpopular opinion but the way this film ended was so...depressing. SO depressing. Did it have to be THAT depressing? The Always Sunny in Philadelphia episode outsold.

This is the range Oscar winning actress Hilary Swank wishes she had.

Would You Rather (David Guy Levy, 2013)

Started off well but became cheesy and predictable as it went on. The acting wasn’t great either plus there was another unnecessary attempted rape scene here too. 

Christmas with the Kranks (Joe Roth, 2004)

So I watched this movie in the run up to Christmas because my best friend and her mum were referencing it like it was this cult classic (which I guess for some reason it is?) and I’m sorry to her and her mum but what the hell is this shit?! It’s not even so bad it’s good. It’s just bad.

The plot, the characters, EVERYTHING, it’s ridiculous on every level. I wasn’t into it enough to suspend my disbelief that anyone’s neighbours would actually care THAT much that they weren’t celebrating Christmas. Go on your damn cruise, take me with you whilst you're at it, ease my seasonal depression! I wouldn’t mind so much if it was funny or if the protagonists were likeable but it wasn’t and they’re not. Nobody’s actions made any sense. It didn’t put me in the Christmas spirit at all it just made me angry that Jamie Lee Curtis’ agent made her do this shit. She’s a scream queen goddess and she deserves better.

ANYWAY.

I’m now realising that I should have started on shit tier and worked my way up to god tier because now this post has ended on the rather sour note of me getting worked up over Christmas with the Kranks, lol. As always, these are just my opinions and I love to hear other people’s; when it comes to something like this, it’s all a matter of preference and there really isn’t a right or wrong answer, so I’m open to discussion!

With the Oscars less than a week away now I rushed a little to get this out on time, so apologies in advance if anything doesn’t make any sense or there’s any typos, I will look back over it at some point over the next couple of days to check. 

But if you read to the end thank you! And stay tuned for my overview of Paris Haute Couture Week S/S 2020 if that’s something you’re interested in as that will most likely be next post!

Lauren x

[nitewrighter]

👏Bob👏Yatta👏Fanfiction👏continuation👏PleASe👏

Zen and the Art of Hovercycle Maintenance, Part 3

Previous Chapters: 1, 2

—-

Ashe was sitting across from him, hat off, her white hair taking on a slight yellowish tint in the glaring light of the workroom. She looked smaller with the hat off, but sharper somehow, like a blade unsheathed. She sat across from him, leaned back in her seat slowly turning one of Zen’s orbs of destruction over in her hand. Bars and Bob loomed in the corner, and Zenyatta heard a sneeze to his left, moved to turn his head, but found he couldn’t. All motor functions shut down again, he thought.

“Way to ruin the moment, idiot,” muttered a voice to Zen’s right.

“Wasn’t my fault!” said the source of the sneeze.

“Both of you shut up–” said a voice behind Zen.

“Boys,” Ashe spoke simply and the three voices flanking Zen instantly silenced.

“Sorry boss,” they all spoke in unison. Ashe gave a nod of acknowledgement before fixing her red eyes on Zenyatta.

“Care telling me what you’re doing working with Jesse McCree?” She

“Can I ask what will happen if I don’t tell you?” asked Zenyatta.

“You can,” said Ashe, “You ain’t gonna like it.”

Stall, thought Zenyatta, You know McCree and the others are looking for you. Just stall.

“What will happen?” asked Zenyatta.

“We still find out,” said Bars, “We shut you down, dismantle your head, sort through your visual data from the past 36 hours a handful of terabytes at a time. We put everything back, put you back together, and wake you back up, of course, but everyone says it feels like everything in their head’s been moved an inch to the left.”

“You would do that to another Omnic?” said Zenyatta.

“I’ve done it to other Omnics,” said Bars, leaning in.

Zenyatta studied Bars’ face for a moment, “…one of those eyes isn’t yours, is it?” said Zenyatta.

“It’s mine now,” said Bars with a shrug. Horror flickered across the lights in Zenyatta’s forehead and Bars just stood up to his full height, “It’s all parts, Zen. That’s all it is.”

“How can you just…” Zenyatta trailed off.

“How many Null Sector units you see roving around here?” said Bars, folding his arms.

“…none?” said Zenyatta, “But they only target population centers–”

“You know how much prime solar power real estate is in these deserts? Enough to make a new Omnium,” said Bars, stepping forward, “But because there’re no population centers, you don’t see the US government giving a shit about it.”

“I told you,” said Ashe, leaning forward, “I’m the law around here.”

“You are a weapons trafficker, a bully, and a thief,” said Zenyatta.

Bob suddenly loomed forward, insulted on Ashe’s behalf, but Ashe held up a hand and Bob stilled. He signed something furiously but Ashe only gave him a short glance before saying, “It’s fine, Bob,” before turning back to Zen. “And you’re claiming moral high ground on account of, what, working with Jesse McCree? You come into my territory blowing shit up and you want to act like you didn’t throw a rock at a hornets nest?” said Ashe.

“Whatever personal issues you have with McCree–” Zenyatta started.

“Don’t,” said Ashe, “Tell me what you and McCree were doing out here.”

Bars was already looking over a tray laden with screwdrivers of various sizes. He turned on an acetylene torch to make sure it worked.

“Jesse McCree is with Overwatch,” said Zenyatta, and then he added, “I–I am with Overwatch. The new Overwatch.”

It felt strange saying it without Genji around. He and Genji had decided that Overwatch was the best means to stop the rising conflicts between human and Omnic in the world, but without Genji there, any connection Zenyatta felt to Overwatch was tenuous at best. Zenyatta had always felt like the one guiding Genji, but now, alone in a grubby little garage in the middle of nowhere on Route 66, Zenyatta felt like he had just wandered after Genji into this whole mess.

“Go on,” said Ashe as Bars examined a screwdriver.

“We were stopping a shipment of explosives,” Zenyatta spoke quickly, “Not yours. They were from Talon. The plan was to safely drop them off with the authorities at Watchpoint: Grand Mesa, when we were intercepted by the Sidewinders. There was a… miscommunication, on my team’s end, and rather than let the explosives fall into the wrong hands, we detonated them. I was separated from my team in the blast.”

“…you were caught in an explosion… because of a miscommunication…” Ashe repeated slowly.

I was caught in an explosion because I was put on a team with someone who doesn’t care if omnics live or die, thought Zenyatta before answering, “Yes. A miscommunication.”

“Well if McCree was on that mission, that doesn’t surprise me. Shit seems to have a magnetic attraction to fans when he’s around. Let me guess: McCree’s here because he’s ‘an expert on the area,’” said Ashe.

“You need to put me on this mission. I’m an expert on the area,” Zenyatta could clearly hear McCree’s voice in his memory.

“…yes,” said Zenyatta.

Ashe huffed incredulously. “I’d call him a son of a bitch but truth be told I have nothing but respect for any woman who spent that many years looking after his sorry ass without strangling him,” she stood up from her chair, now tossing the orb of destruction up and down in her hand and walking thoughtfully around the room, “That was the only reason you were here?” she said, looking back at Zenyatta, “Overwatch has no intention on stepping in on any of Deadlock’s operations?”

“Deadlock… isn’t as high a priority as Talon or Null Sector,” said Zenyatta.

Ashe chuckled and the triplets behind Zenyatta forced nervous laugh along with her. “’Not a high priority,’ he says,” said Ashe, “Oh, but once you take care of Null Sector and Talon, then petty criminals like us should be quaking in our boots,” she walked over to a worktable where her black hat was resting and fitted it back on, adjusting it in her reflection in the glass of a cracked analog television tucked in the corner, “Is that what you’re gonna do after you save the world? Do what the old Overwatch did after the Crisis and just start policing the world over again?”

“I… I don’t know,” said Zenyatta. He certainly didn’t see himself being an enforcer like that.

“No, you wouldn’t, would you?” said Ashe, looking at him with something almost like pity, “So… how is the fight going?”

“Excuse me?” said Zenyatta.

“The fight. The big damn heroic-ass fight,” said Ashe, “How’s it going?”

“I… would not be able to tell you,” said Zenyatta.

“Oh I don’t doubt that,” said Ashe, “But what do you think of it? Is it getting any easier? You got ‘em on the ropes?”

Zenyatta was silent at this.

“Figured,” She gave a glance to the orb in her hand, “You don’t exactly strike me as the mercenary type… what are you doing with them?”

“I heal and advise,” said Zenyatta. How often do they listen though? a bitter voice in his head spoke up, made sharper by his own sense of helplessness and isolation, Winston, Jack, and Ana listen to Doctor Ziegler before they listen to me because they actually worked with her. Lúcio is friendly, but his focus is largely on Vishkar. Genji listens, but he tends to keep out of the larger-scale strategizing anyway, so I can hardly expect him to advocate for me if he’s not advocating to begin with. Tracer listens, if only because she respected Mondatta.

That last thought stung and if Zen could have shaken his head to stop the train of thoughts, he would.

“You advise,” said Ashe, arching an eyebrow, “But you don’t know how the fight is going?”

“I don’t… advise tactically…” said Zenyatta, hesitantly, before attempting to assert himself as best he could while being completely immobilized. No, he wasn’t going to let himself get discouraged here. “Overwatch is a peacekeeping organization. If there is going to be peace, it requires guidance from activists like myself.”

“I thought you looked Shambali,” said Ashe, tilting her head, “So a cozy little alliance there, huh?”

“I… am no longer Shambali,” Zenyatta said a bit stiffly.

Ashe perked up a bit at this. That look of not-quite-pity seemed to shift into genuine concern. “Seriously?” she said.

“I was Shambali, but then the Shambali became overly concerned with dogmatism and overshadowed by their own fame, I believed the path to changing the world was in individual connections.”

Bob’s shoulders softened a bit at this but Bars made another exaggerated motion of his head to indicate eye-rolling.

“…So I set out on my own path,” said Zenyatta.

“And that lead you to Overwatch?” said Ashe, tilting her head.

Genji lead me to Overwatch, thought Zenyatta, but he managed a, “Yes.”

Ashe huffed a little before plopping back down in her seat.

“Bob,” she said, not even looking over her shoulder at the massive omnic butler, “Get my usual and get him some Glenwales.”

Bob perked up and quickly headed out of the room.

“I don’t want Glenwales–” Zenyatta started.

“Yes you do,” said Ashe. There wasn’t a playful ‘Come onnnn live a little!’ lilt in her voice, but rather a flat factuality.

“You threaten to take my head apart, and you think some oil is going to establish trust?” said Zenyatta.

“You talk about trust, but I wasn’t the one who started off this whole thing claimin’ to be an artist,” Ashe scoffed, “The sad part was I really wanted to believe that. We would have sent a tail after you when we let you go, I mean I’m not stupid, but I did want to believe it. But no, this isn’t about trust, Zen. This is about hospitality, and god knows you could use some.” She glanced over her shoulder at Bars. “Bars? Restore the motor functions of his head, neck, and left arm.”

“You sure, boss?” said Bars.

“Well I ain’t pourin’ that oil down his gullet, do you want to?” said Ashe, “It’s five on one and he’s not an idiot. Just lost. Like anyone.”

“I am not lost,” said Zenyatta, adjusting himself in his seat as he felt something pinch in his neck and felt the ability to move flood back into his arm.

Bob came back with an oddly fancy silver tray and two bottles and two glasses set upon it. One was an already-half-empty crystal decanter, the other was a commercial bottle of Glenwales, not even opened. 

“Sure you are,” said Ashe, filling her own glass with the whiskey, “You’re working with Jesse McCree, ain’t you?”

“Overwatch as an organization is far more effective than you give it credit for,” said Zenyatta. 

“I’m sure,” said Ashe with a shrug, “Yeah, it’s a hodgepodge, but the firepower you’ve got is nothin’ to sneeze at.”

“You’re more lost than me,” said Zenyatta, “You are plagued by doubt and resentment, your vision is clouded by anger, and you are ultimately chained down by your past.” His words would have far more effect with an orb of discord, but if it had managed to stop Genji in his tracks a few years ago, he saw no reason why it wouldn’t work on Ashe. But Ashe just kept that expression at him as Bob poured Zenyatta a glass of Glenwales and offered it to him. Bob looked questioningly to Ashe as well with Zenyatta’s words but Ashe seemed unshaken.

“Uh huh,” said Ashe, sipping her whiskey, “I know all that. And you’re in Overwatch because…”

“Because I must help,” said Zenyatta.

“Just not tactically,” said Ashe, swirling her whiskey in its glass, “And martially you can probably hold your own, but you’re not exactly a soldier. Or a doctor. And arguably you could advocate but as you said, you’re exactly Shambali, either.”

Despite finally having partial movement, Zenyatta stiffened in his seat.

“Lost recognizes lost,” said Ashe, “Which I guess brings me to the rub of the whole situation, which is, what do you think Overwatch would give to have you back?”

Zenyatta suddenly felt very hollow. Overwatch’s resources were stretched phyllo-thin as it was. He knew as a medic he was invaluable, but whether Overwatch had anything to offer or would even negotiate such a matter…

“It doesn’t matter,” said Zenyatta, “McCree was easily able to defeat you before–”

“Yeah. Fresh after a heist when everyone was exposed and exhausted and he was pulling the puppet strings on the situation just so he could get his glowy blue sex doll back. This situation calls for your team storming our turf–which, I promise you, will end up much worse if it really comes to that, which it doesn’t have to. I don’t have the time to bother with a hostage. Your team wants you back. We can take care of this like adults.” She motioned with her own glass to the bottle of Glenwales, “And we’ll see you’re well-taken care of in the meantime.” Zenyatta noted the virtually unchanged level of whiskey in her own glass and the still-sharp look in her eye as she set her own glass down. No, she wouldn’t get his guard down that easily.

“How kind of you,” Zenyatta’s voice was bitter and dry.

“Aw, thank you!” Ashe put a hand over her heart, “People tell me I’m too nice all the time.”

“They do?” said one of the triplets, before he got swatted upside the head by one of his brothers.

“Bars?” said Ashe, putting her hands on her hips, “Think you can figure out whatever comm network our guest is linked up to?”

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” said Bars, rolling his shoulders.

“Good. I want an accessible channel with it by the time I get back. You three,” Ashe motioned to the triplets, “With me. We’re riding. Making sure there’s none of those Sidewinder clowns in our territory in the meantime.”

“You got it, boss!” the triplets said in unison.

“Bob?” Ashe put a hand on the massive omnic’s shoulder, “I am leaving the comfort of our dear guest in your very capable hands… Also rip his head off if he tries escapin’.”

Bob gave a slight bow to Ashe as she walked out of the room, the Deadlock triplets trailing behind her in a line. They all headed out the door but Ashe paused in the doorway, “I mean, we can put it back, of course–”

“…Of course,” said Zenyatta, dryly.

Ashe made a finger gun at him, “Sit tight!” she said, before slipping away from the doorway.

About a minute of pure silence and stillness passed, punctuated only by the sound of Bars’ tools clinking as he sifted through them and then the hum of hovercycles in the distance. Zenyatta slumped a little in his seat, and then noticed Bob was pushing a glass of Glenwales in his direction.

“…I don’t want any,” said Zenyatta.

“Do you have tac-mods?” said Bars.

“Pardon?” said Zenyatta.

“Tactile modifications? You know, ‘Oh wow, organic partner, you touching me feels so good, and this is very genuine because I physically altered myself so we would both feel better about your dumb meatsack body rubbing on my chassis.’”

“…I… have.. some,” said Zenyatta.

“Where?” said Bars.

“That’s rude,” said Zenyatta.

“I’m asking you so I don’t hurt you,” said Bars.

“…Chest, forehead, and hands,” said Zenyatta.

“Really?” said Bars, “No…?” he gestured at his pelvic region.

“I…. considered them, but decided I wouldn’t get them until I found the right partner,” said Zenyatta.

“Ooh la-la,” said Bars, picking up a screwdriver, “Got a real romantic on our hands.”

“I’m a monk,” said Zenyatta.

“You’re not Shambali,” said Bars, stepping alongside Zenyatta and setting a screwdriver against one of the bolts securing the small flattened cylinder on the left side of his jaw. A few loosened screws the upper half of it came off easily. Zen didn’t feel a thing. He did feel a wire being stuck into one of the manual ports and then glanced off to the side to see Bars holding a tablet and tapping a few things into it. Zenyatta heard a high pitched noise buzz through his head for a few seconds before Bars extracted the wire.

“Got what I need,” said Bars, walking out of the room, “All you, Bob.”

Bob nodded as he headed off and the door closed behind him. Bob took a seat in the metal folding chair Ashe had been sitting in. It creaked and whined beneath his weight. Bob sat primly, one leg folded over the other, fingers interlaced on his knee like an old-fashioned gentleman in a victorian clothing catalogue. 

He signed something at Zenyatta.

“…I don’t understand,” said Zenyatta.

Bob perked up, slightly alarmed, held up a finger again in a “Wait,” gesture, then stood up, stepped over to a work table and rifled through it briefly before pulling out a data drive. He pulled a small handkerchief from the interior of his vest and wiped the data drive down, looked it over, seemed pleased with it, then stepped in front of Zenyatta once more.

He held up the data drive to Zenyatta.

“What?” said Zenyatta.

Bob gestured to the side of his own head, then pointed at the exposed port on the side of Zenyatta’s jaw.

Zenyatta flinched back slightly and Bob made a slightly flailing, “it’s okay!” gesture, before taking a phone out from the interior of his vest. He slowly and clumsily tapped something out on the phone and then held the screen up for Zenyatta to read.

It’s safe.

I promise.

“I would like to trust you,” said Zenyatta, “But… given the circumstances…”

Bob withdrew the phone, rapidly tapped the screen indicating him deleting a word, then tapped something out again and held the phone up once more.

“I PROMISE” was in all caps now and Bob held up the data drive.

Zenyatta paused, studying Bob’s face, then gingerly took the data drive from Bob and inserted it into the exposed port in the side of his jaw. His train of thought slowed as it always did when he was downloading a large amount of data and Bob started signing.

“I don’t understand what you’re–” Zenyatta started, but then he did.

“—doesn’t cover all the signs, people are always making new ones, of course,” Bob was signing, “But you should be able to fill in the gaps–Do you understand me?”

Zenyatta sat there, stunned.

“Do you understand me?” Bob signed again.

Zenyatta brought up his one functioning hand and slowly signed, “Yes.”

Bob’s eyes brightened. “Oh! I’m so glad! You don’t have to sign everything. You can just talk. It’s fine.”

“…why don’t you talk?” said Zenyatta.

“I tried a couple different voice boxes, Ashe and Bars still bring me some, sometimes,” Bob signed, “None of them sounded right. None of them sounded like me. This,” he signed, “Feels like me.”

“But you were made without a voice box?” said Zenyatta.

“Technically I’m just a slightly more advanced labor unit,” Bob signed, “I was never designed with one. I learned ASL because deafness is congenital in Miss Ashe’s family.”

“…explains why she’s so good at yelling,” Zenyatta said a bit dryly.

“It’s not my place to apologize on her behalf,” signed Bob, “But it does touch on a very sore spot that you’re involved with Jesse McCree and that you lied about it—”

“Because she’s the most dangerous woman in the southwest,” said Zenyatta.

“Dangerous things tend to be so to survive,” Bob signed. He paused for a bit and Zenyatta was silent as well.

“You spoke more than I thought you would,” Bob signed after a while.

“Oh–I did?” said Zenyatta.

“I was worried Bars would take your head apart–” Bob signed, “I mean the procedure is perfectly safe, but that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant but… you shared a lot…”

“…I can’t remember the last time someone asked me that many questions–me as in… me,” said Zenyatta, “Not what I thought so they could help themselves best—” He caught himself and then glanced back at Bob, who was still listening perfectly patiently, “I’m rambling. They’re a good team,” said Zenyatta.

“I’m sure,” Bob signed.

“They are,” said Zenyatta.

“I never said they weren’t,” signed Bob.

Zenyatta just slumped back in his seat a bit.

“I do wish we had met under better circumstances,” Bob signed, glancing off at the orb of destruction Ashe had left on the workbench, “But Miss Ashe doesn’t believe in keeping families apart. As harsh as she can be, she does want to see you back home.”

“I carry the Iris with me,” said Zenyatta, glancing off, “Home is wherever I can bring human and omnic together in harmony.”

Bob paused at this. “So home is with you,” Bob signed, “It’s not… technically… with them.”

“No–” said Zenyatta, “Well-Yes–I mean…” Zenyatta made a sighing sound. Not having any lungs, the sound itself didn’t have any physical purpose aside from giving him a few seconds to think, “Is this place home to you?” said Zenyatta.

“It is. I rather like being a dastardly rogue,” Bob signed, “It’s quite thrilling.”

Zenyatta chuckled a little at the sign for ‘Dastardly.’

“And Miss Ashe is my family,” signed Bob.

Zenyatta reared back slightly in his seat at this.

“She can surprise you,” Bob signed. He daintily extended a finger and pushed the little glass of Glenwales across the silver tray towards Zenyatta with his pinky.  “Lots of things about this place can.” 

Zenyatta gave a long look to the glass, then took it and gulped it down. Well, if he was going to be here for a while…

[admiralty-xfd]

submission 2

A sequel was in order. 

To read part 1 go here (although this can be read alone)

“Tell me why you kept it.”

It’s been over two decades. He asks out of the blue as they lay entwined together, her naked leg draped across his lap, and his hand creeping across her hip, a fingertip gently tracing the outline of the ouroboros on the small of her back.

“Haven’t we gone over this?” she asks with a sigh.

They have, more than once, always briefly. It’s all so far in the past, beyond the two of them, beyond everything they’ve been through since. It should be so unimportant now. It should be over.

But it isn’t.

Twenty five years of Mulder and Scully, in all of their splendor, in all of their despair, and he’s still finding himself asking her about Ed fucking Jerse.

Or rather, asking her about fucking Ed Jerse.

“Yes. I want to hear it again.” His finger circles the tattoo again and again, the snake eating its tail, forever in motion. Around and around.

“Why, Mulder? Is this some kind of penance? After all this time?”

He shakes his head because it isn’t. At least, it isn’t for her. But he would never tell her that.

“No, Scully. It’s nothing like that.”

He leans down to kiss her there, at the center of the snake. He’s picturing it now, her wild, reckless night of rebellion. How it should have been him that night, holding her, kissing her. Fucking her.

Cherishing her.

He has no qualms or hang-ups about her sexual past, especially during a time when he didn’t see her the way she deserved to be seen. He’s not jealous, or angry. Not anymore. They are past that.

He has no right. He knows this. The penance is his alone.

“Tell me.”

“Why I kept it?” His eyes shift to catch hers and she smiles, her Mona Lisa smile. She still has secrets he may never know. He loves her this way, his enigmatic doctor. “I kept it because I like it.”

“That’s all I get?” His tongue darts out to chase the snake, head to tail, around and around.

“Also because I hear removal really hurts.”

He nips now, hard, at her gluteus medius. She inhales sharply. “And getting it didn’t?” he asks. “Besides, I hear you like that kind of thing. Just a little.”

She flattens her body on their bed, the bed they share, in the house they share, in the life they share, giving him access to her tiny, reptilian scarlet letter. “I do. On occasion.”

“Did he know that?”

“Mulder, stop.”

“Scully, I’m not mad about it. I promise. I just want to know.”

She sighs again. He’s never requested details about her encounter. “What is it you want to know?”

“You’ve told me why you did it,” he says. “But not how.”

“Mulder.” She flips onto her back, the snake hidden now, burrowed away. She’s uncomfortable with this, he knows. He hovers over her, intent on making her understand that he is not angry, that this is not his ego talking. He doesn’t feel that anymore, not with her. But the tattoo and the sex with Jerse have always been rolled into one entity, one moment, inextricable in his mind. He wants to separate them, still. He wants to try.

“It’s going to be there forever, Scully. And I don’t want to wonder forever.”

She sighs, her eyelids look heavy. She’s tired. Their exertions have been exhausting tonight and she’s still sweaty. She’s quiet for a moment, then begins.

“It was the first time I realized I liked the pain. It quieted my mind, made me focus on nothing but the feeling itself. I’d been so busy for so long keeping all my feelings inside. I appreciated that: the rawness of it. Just of being alive.” He drags a finger across her stomach. She shivers at his touch. “Just of the feeling.”

He pulls her hand to his lips, kisses her pulse point. “Then what?”

She takes a deep breath, exhales. “Then... we went back to his place. There was a storm and he suggested I stay over, for safety’s sake.”

He scoffs. Oh, the irony. “Fucking asshole.”

“Shh,” she laughs. Everything that followed wasn’t her fault. He’ll never know every detail but he knows this for certain. “His tattoo started bleeding, and I took off his shirt to check it. When I went to touch it he… he grabbed me.”

Mulder tilts his head, concerned. “What do you mean, grabbed you?”

“You know. Like this.” She repeats, presumably, the action that so aroused her all those years ago by grabbing his wrists, flipping him onto his back beside her. She straddles him, lifting an eyebrow. “Hot, right?”

His hands go to her hips like magnets, and it’s impossible to ascertain what exactly did it but he feels himself twitch, his desire awakening anew beneath her. “Er… yes. He did that?”

She shrugs. “I took a bit of creative license. For the story’s sake, you see.” She leans down, grinning, giving him a short kiss. If she didn’t before, she has his undivided attention now.

She rests her forehead against his, his breathing steady but gaining momentum. “Mulder, you know I didn’t go out with this guy intending to sleep with him, right?” she asks quietly.

“I do now.”

“Well, it wasn’t the plan. But in the moment, I guess… I got swept up. I’ll admit it.” She kisses him again. “It had been a long time for me, years actually, and I’m not going to lie, I wanted it. And he wanted me.”

His fear of hearing this story is rapidly dissipating. Now he’s just getting turned on. “Well, he might be an asshole but he had great taste.”

She begins rocking against him gently, slowly, and he knows she can feel him getting hard again. “When it started, it was just about the feeling, Mulder. About feeling something, anything. I needed that, badly.” He runs his hands along her thighs. “But when it really got going…” she looks into his eyes but stops, maybe unsure how to proceed.

“Just tell me.”

“I thought about you.”

She’s never told him this part before. Maybe she’s just making it up, trying to make him feel better. Maybe she’s never been comfortable revealing this much of herself to him.

Or maybe she’s been afraid to tell him.

“No, you didn’t,” he replies. The first scenario seems the most likely.

“You don’t believe me?” she asks coyly. “Why would I make this up?”

“To protect my fragile masculinity?”

She smiles. “After all this time, I have no reason to think that part of you still exists, Mulder.”

It does, though. Just like it does with her. “Well, I had absolutely no reason to think you needed me to tell you about all that scoot you still have in your boot.”

“Mulder, no one needed you to tell me that.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs, and she smiles. “But we all have our insecurities.”

“I know,” she says, more seriously. “But I’m telling you the truth. Okay?”

He nods. He wants to believe.

“So anyway, suddenly all I can think about is what it would be like to be kissing you, touching you. What you would do, what you would say. How you would make me feel.” She leans down to whisper into his ear. “He kept saying ‘Dana…’”

“Okay, stop.” He pushes her back gently by her biceps. Perhaps that jealousy isn’t completely gone after all. “I think I’ve heard as much as I want to.”

“No, you want to hear this, I promise.”

He looks at her skeptically, something he isn’t used to doing. “I really don’t think I do.”

“Trust me,” she says, gently stroking his cheek with her fingers. He hates the part where he let some other guy have her, he hates that so much, but he loves her.

He trusts her.

He nods his head almost imperceptibly and she smiles, that smile he’d fight off monsters like Ed Jerse until the end of time to see.

“I told him to call me Scully instead.”

He blinks. He can’t believe what he’s just heard. “And… he did?”

For the first time tonight she blushes, and he can see the pink hue appear on her cheeks, her ears, her neck. She looks down in embarrassment and shakes her head in the affirmative. “I really just told you that, didn’t I?”

His lips curve up into a smile in spite of himself. “You were right. I’m glad you told me that.”

“I couldn’t believe it even when I said it,” she admits. “I just… I wanted to it be you, Mulder.”

“Even though you were mad at me?”

“Especially because I was mad at you,” she grins. They look at each other for a moment, then she looks away, reflective.

She closes her eyes, still slowly moving against him. He can tell she’s there now, in Philadelphia, in some stranger’s apartment, coming to this huge, life altering revelation. How liberating that must have felt. How frightening.

How lonely.

It almost overwhelms him, the idea of Scully picturing him in this way, imagining him the same way he’d imagined her so often. So many years went by before they’d allowed themselves to experience what it really felt like.

“Hey, Scully.” He reaches up, touches the hollow at her throat softly. She stops rocking and opens her eyes.

“Could it… have been me? All those years ago? If things had been different?”

She smiles and reaches out to run her fingers through his hair. “Mulder, all you had to do was ask.”

He closes his eyes. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole.”

“It’s okay. I’ve forgiven you.”

“Come here,” he says. He pulls her down into his chest and holds her there, his heart beating next to hers. They’re together now. Everything he needs is in his arms.

“Tell me why you kept the tattoo then, Scully.” He sits up until he’s facing her, maneuvering her into his lap. She wraps her legs around him and his hands encircle her, touching the serpent once again. “I still want to know.”

“It reminds me of something,” she says carefully, draping her arms around his neck. “Not of him, but… of that feeling. A feeling I chased for a long time.” His fingers still circle the snake.

“What feeling?”

“That feeling I got whenever you ran somewhere and I chased after you. And every single time we ended up right back at the beginning.” He lets this in. She’s not being vindictive, only contemplative. “I didn’t remove it because it isn’t just a piece of me; it’s a piece of you.”

He doesn’t say anything, trying to work this out.

“It is you, Mulder. Year after year, chasing monsters, chasing darkness. Never wanting to stop. You’re the snake eating his own tail. I basically got you tattooed on my ass,” she smiles, throwing his own words back in his face. He treated her poorly at the time. He’d been so young back then, so stupid.

He shifts uncomfortably. “But… did you know that? At the time?” He wants to know the truth.

“No,” she answers him. “It’s something I learned over time, as you and I grew.” She places both hands on his face, looks into his eyes, utterly sincere. “And we grew together. Whatever darkness we found, we always came around, out the other side. We always found each other.”

He smiles at this. This is her truth, the reason she’s kept the ouroboros all these years. It doesn’t make her think of a mistake, or a regret. It was a huge turning point in their relationship. A choice. Her road to Damascus.

If she can think of it this way, he will too.

“I did consider it, once,” she admits. “Removing it.” He doesn’t want to ask but he has a feeling he already knows. “...When we were apart.”

“But you didn’t,” he points out.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Because… it reminded you of what an asshole I was?”

She looks him in the eye as she scoots her body close, so close, until she’s pressed up against him, their naked bodies encircling each other completely. Just like the snake that still rests on the small of her back, circling around and around.

“No,” she says, very seriously.

“Then why?”

She leans in and kisses him once more, a long, impassioned kiss that casts every single doubt from his addled mind.

“Because somehow I knew we would come around.”

[artificialqueens]

Overpowered Part 4 (Branjie) athena2

A/N:Thank you all so much for your feedback and support of this fic, it truly does mean a lot to me. I want to apologize in advance for the angst in this one, but fluff is coming soon, I promise! *This chapter has mention of alcohol, violence, and mild injury* I would really appreciate any feedback or comments you have!

“You can seriously reach that?” Vanessa screeches as Brooke puts the star on top of the tree.

“Yeah, why?” She steps back and takes in Vanessa’s tiny frame. “Oh.”

“Yeah, Mary,” Vanessa laughs. “I almost broke my neck standing on a chair last year.”

It’s the first day of December and Christmas music is blasting, curtains closed as they pointedly avoid the inch of snow on the ground.

(Yvie said there’d be more snow. It’s fine. She’s fine.)

“You took your meds today, right?” She asks Brooke.

“Yes.”

Brooke takes her medication every morning and Vanessa’s heart fills with pride each time. Brooke works so hard with Nina and communicates her feelings a little better, and she doesn’t apologize for her nightmares anymore. Vanessa’s been watching her closely to see if anything’s changed with the meds, even though Nina said it could take a while for them to work, and not all medications work for everybody.

Vanessa plugs in the tree, reds and blues and yellows and whites twinkling brightly, reflecting off the shiny bulbs.

“One more thing,” Brooke says, pulling fake mistletoe from behind her back and holding it above them.

“You cheesy little ice princess.” Vanessa stretches up to kiss her. —

Two days later the clock by the cemetery stops working.

Exactly one minute after 11.

“What the hell does this mean?” Vanessa demands, barging into Silk’s office for the emergency debriefing she’d ordered. She turns to Yvie. “You said it stopped at 11:03, not 11:01.”

“I-I don’t know,” Yvie admits. “The clock isn’t cracked either, like it was in the vision. My visions have never been wrong like this.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Wait for the fucking clock to crack and move 2 minutes?” Her hands are itching to let flames dance across them, but she forces it down. She moves closer to Brooke so her icy skin will prevent an eruption.

“I don’t know. But for now, I think you need to be extra careful,” Silk says soberly.

Be careful? Vanessa wants to scream. There has to be more she can do.

She just doesn’t know what. —

She tries to distract herself. She bakes cookies with Brooke. They curl up under blankets and watch movies with the pets at their feet. She even gets hooked on the Great British Bake-Off, Brooke’s favorite when she’s anxious or needs to calm down after a really bad nightmare or panic attack. But even listening to the contestants talk charmingly about cakes is starting to fail. All the distractions are failing. No amount of cookies or make-out sessions on the couch behind closed curtains can hide the fact that it’s getting colder, that the snow hasn’t cleared.

She’s in her apartment, walls starting to buckle from the heat. Smoke clouds her eyes, hysterical screaming assaults her ears. She has to follow it, she has to help them, but she can’t see–

Her eyes open into darkness and she is relieved, the dark safer than the bright glow of the flames. The room is silent except for her violent heartbeat. Brooke is still sleeping soundly. Vanessa carefully eases her arms around Brooke, trying not to think that each time could be the last. —

She’s starting to feel that she’s not good anymore. Before, it was about saving people. Now, it’s like if she puts one more criminal behind bars, there’s one less person that could potentially kill her. Saving people is secondary. Why even bother when she’s just going to die anyway? She feels awful about it, that she cares more about herself than the people she’s supposed to protect, but she can’t deny it.

She’s sure Nina would tell her it’s reasonable to feel that way. She almost caves and makes an appointment but slams the phone down.

In some twisted way, she wishes it would just happen already. That the vision would pass, leaving her either dead or alive, and the whole thing can just be over, because the waiting is the worst thing.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion that makes her pick a fight with Brooke. Or maybe it’s the anger poisoning her. It’s probably not the whiskey, because that was hours ago. She doesn’t even know who said what first, only that she’s ready to answer Silk’s call and Brooke is worried, and it’s like Vanessa suddenly drops into her body and becomes aware that she’s yelling at Brooke, which she’s never done.

“You can’t tell me what to do, Brooke!”

“Vanessa, please, I-I just think you should be more careful.” She picks at her cuticles.

“Careful went out the window when Yvie put a fucking expiration date over my head!”

“You-you drank today.”

“It was just a glass of whiskey.” That’s a lie. It was four.

“I know you’re scared-”

“You think because you go to Nina you’re a therapist now? Is that it?” She tugs on her boots so hard they almost rip.

“No, I just-”

“So what about those people in trouble? You want me to let them die?” She leaves out the fact that yesterday she would have let them die, but now that her suit is on, she wants to save them. It’s just what she has to do.

“I don’t care about them!” Brooke’s hands are shaking.

It’s quiet.

“I-I didn’t mean that,” Brooke says softly, hand raking through her hair. “I’m sorry. I do care, I do, I just…look, it’s Silver Steel, he’s hard to fight, I’ll come with you.” She quickly attaches her mask and grabs her suit.

“No. You were holding me in the vision, remember? I’m probably safer without you.”

Even with Brooke’s mask on she can see the absolutely gutted look in her eyes, and Vanessa regrets the words the second they’re out, shame burning inside her and making her tear up. She regrets every damn word she screamed at Brooke tonight. Everything she’s felt in the past few months–confusion, sadness, misery, exhaustion–is all boiling down to one thing: anger. Pure, red-hot anger, the type that led to crimes of passion, that led people to scream words they didn’t mean and hurt the ones they loved. The kind of anger that burns from the inside out, leaving nothing but ash.

She jumps in Bertha and races off with no seatbelt, like if she gets away fast enough, she can pretend tonight never happened. —

She heads downtown, where Silver Steel has crumbled an office building. She pulls people up out of the rubble and herds them all away, and thankfully there’s no deaths that she can see. She leads him into the empty park and lets Vanjie take over. Vanjie didn’t feel dazed and exhausted. Vanjie hadn’t been an absolute asshole to the person she loves more than anyone. Vanjie didn’t need to worry if she had just ruined the greatest thing she’s ever had.

“Could you be a little more obvious with your name, buddy? I mean, Silver Steel, for someone with steel fists? Really?” She aims a punch at his chest.

“Shut up.”

“That’s origi–fuck!” His steel fist slams into her ribcage, and she hopes Silk’s bulletproof suit covers that, because her chest feels like it’s in pieces.

She forces herself to straighten up, only to have his fist get her again, sending her crashing into frozen earth.

Silver Steel hovers over her, his fist blocking out the sky. She closes her eyes, and she doesn’t fight. She just accepts it, like she used to accept the impending failure after a test she didn’t study for. If this is how she goes, that’s fine, though it sucks that she won’t even get to rub it in Yvie’s face that the vision was wrong–

The blow never comes.

She opens her eyes cautiously.

Moonlight glistens off the shiny ice crystals encasing his fist.

A powerful ice blast arcs through the air and Silver Steel thuds against the ground.

Frost holds her hand out to Vanjie, pulling her up. “You’re okay?”

She sucks in a painful breath, hand going to her ribs. “I’ll be fine. Brooke, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. When we get home, I need to give you a real apology. What I said to you…Look out!”

Silver Steel grabs Frost’s left arm and twists it behind her back while she struggles in his grip, and Vanjie hears something pop–

Vanjie tears him off her, fists raining down in a blur. She keeps going until he drops to the ground unconscious, then rushes to Frost, who touches her shoulder gingerly and grimaces.

“Are you okay? Tell me honestly.”

“M-my shoulder feels weird.”

Vanjie’s heart aches. “Get in the car.” —

After 5 minutes of going back and forth over who a doctor should take care of first, she and Brooke sit in Ra’jah’s office, Vanessa holding ice on her bruised ribs while they wait for Ra’jah to fix Brooke’s dislocated shoulder.

Whatever alcohol and drowsiness remained have cleared from her body, the image of Frost’s face paling and her eyes squeezing shut on the drive here sobering her instantly.

This is all her fault. If she hadn’t been an idiot, Brooke wouldn’t be sitting here sweating over seeing a doctor. They would be home in bed eating cookies and chips. She has to be more careful, she understands now. She’s not the only one she’s putting in danger.

Silk, Yvie, and Scarlet trickle in, and Vanessa grits her teeth.

“Didn’t you upgrade my suit when you did Frost’s? Shouldn’t it have stopped the steel fist, since it’s bulletproof?” Vanessa accuses angrily before Silk can start screaming about her recklessness.

“I said it would. Absorb. Most. Of. The. Impact,” Silk forces out, taking the bait of an argument. “Which it did, by the way, or you’d have a lot worse than bruised ribs. That was mainly for Brooke, if I’m honest. She’s a damn bullet magnet.”

“Did you know bullets actually aren’t magnetic?” Yvie asks to blank stares. “Just a fun fact,” she shrugs.

“I thought it was fun, honey,” Scarlet insists.

“Hey, maybe all you hoes can get outta here and let a doctor see Brooke!” Vanessa shouts, seeing Ra’jah in the doorway.

They clear out and Ra’jah walks in, Brooke immediately shrinking in fear. Vanessa takes her hand reassuringly.

“So, it’s only a minor dislocation, and I can push it back into place. I’m gonna give you a mild sedative for the pain, okay?” Ra’jah reaches for a needle and Brooke recoils as far back as the chair allows.

“No,” she gasps, breathing shallow, “I don’t want it.”

“Is it the needle? It’s okay, I’ll be right here,” Vanessa promises.

Brooke bites her lip. “It’s not that, it’s…it’ll make me sleepy, like I’m not in control. Just-just give me Tylenol or something. Vanessa, please. I can’t feel like that again.”

Brooke looks up at her, eyes desperate and trusting. Vanessa doesn’t want to see Brooke in any more pain, but how can she refuse when Brooke is begging her, when she would rather feel that pain than feel like the lab is drugging her again?

She looks at Ra’jah. “You got any Tylenol?”

Ra’jah nods and leaves the room, returning with two pills and a cup of water. “You’re sure about this?” she confirms, standing near Brooke’s shoulder as she swallows the pills.

Brooke nods. Vanessa squeezes her hand tightly.

“Okay.” Ra’jah positions herself and Vanessa looks away as Brooke almost crushes Vanessa’s hand and grunts in pain, but it’s a lot faster than she thought and they both breathe easier. Ra’jah puts Brooke’s left arm in a sling to keep it steady for a few days, and promises there won’t be any lasting damage.

Relief she doesn’t deserve washes over her. Brooke shouldn’t have gotten hurt at all. Wouldn’t have gotten hurt if Vanessa had just listened.

She pulls Brooke into the bathroom when they’re done.

“I’m so sorry, Brooke. No, don’t say anything,” she interrupts as Brooke’s mouth opens.

“I’m sorry I ran off like that and got you hurt. I’m so sorry for saying I’d be safer without you. I…I didn’t mean it. Brooke, honestly, I’ve never felt safer than I do when you’re around. You keep me safe and protect me even when I don’t deserve it. I mean, you showed up to help me tonight when I was awful to you. And I’m sorry for getting mad when you ask about my feelings. I know you’re trying to help. I don’t know what came over me, it was like I had no control. I’ve been so angry lately…but that’s not an excuse for what I said to you. I’m so sorry.”

She wipes her eyes furiously.

Brooke’s hand wraps around hers.

“Vanessa, it’s alright. I’m fine, really. I know you didn’t mean to say what you did. Me getting hurt was an accident. I knew the risks when I went out.” She takes a breath. “I need to apologize too. What you must be feeling…I-I can’t imagine the stress you’re under. I get why you’ve been angry and why it made you act out. If you want my help or you want to talk, I’m here, but I understand I need to not push so hard. And I shouldn’t have tried to make you stop helping people. Th-that was wrong. I’m sorry.” Brooke’s eyes are so sincere it takes her breath away. “I love you so much, Ness. I love you forever.”

She carefully eases Brooke down into a kiss, and things feel right again, more right than they have in months. —

A’Keria is waiting when they’re done and leads them into the conference room. Nina is at the head of the table and Vanessa immediately knows what this is but A’Keria has already shut the door, blocking her escape.

She glares at Silk. “An intervention?! You set up a fucking intervention?”

“Please don’t think of this as an intervention,” Nina says with frustrating patience. “We’re just going to talk a bit. If there’s something you want to share, that’s fine. If not, that’s fine too. Would you like to take a seat?”

So this isn’t an intervention. It’s her own personal hell.

Vanessa sighs and throws herself in the seat beside Scarlet, Brooke following as A’Keria joins Yvie and Silk.

“Would anyone like to start?” Nina asks.

“You need to be more careful, you could have gotten yourself killed!” Yvie snaps.

“Okay, maybe we can use a kinder tone in the future, but let’s start there,” Nina says. “So-”

“You think I don’t know that, Yvie? I learned my damn lesson, I don’t need you down my neck!”

“Let’s all take a breath,” Nina suggests, watching them expectantly until they do it. Vanessa feels slightly less ready to explode.

“Vanessa,” Nina continues. “Would you like to share anything about how you’re feeling, what you’ve been going through?” The amount of patience this woman has is quite honestly unbelievable.

She shrugs. “Mad, I guess. I mean, I’m possibly gonna die soon. How am I supposed to feel?” She mutters with defeat.

“You have every right to feel what you’re feeling,” Nina assures her.

“Can I say something?” Yvie asks.

“Of course.”

“I get the whole mad-at-the-world thing you’ve got going on.” Yvie takes a breath. “Two years ago I found out I have this connective tissue disorder. It makes my joints super-painful sometimes. I won’t be able to do this hero thing forever. This was right after I started getting the visions. I had no idea what I was doing. I was never fast enough to save anyone. So between my condition and being shitty at saving people, I figured, what’s the point? Why try to save people when I can’t and I have this condition anyway?”

Vanessa nods in understanding.

“Then I started getting more visions, and I couldn’t stop thinking about all these people in trouble, who didn’t have a chance because I wasn’t trying anymore. And I realized that just because I can’t do it forever, it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it at all. So I tried harder, actually starting saving people. I want to just help people as long as I can. So, yeah, I get why you’re pissed.” She looks hesitantly at Vanessa, expression kind.

“Thank you sharing that, Yvie. Do you have anything to add, Vanessa? It’s perfectly okay to say no.”

She sighs. “I thought that way after the fire,” she confesses quietly. “When I got my powers, I didn’t want to use them. I was pissed. Why the hell should I save random people when I couldn’t save my own family? Why save someone else’s family when I couldn’t have mine? But that was the answer, I guess. Because I didn’t want anyone to lose their family. I probably…” she trails off.

Nina nods encouragingly.

“I probably blamed myself for losing them. Because if I hadn’t invited them over, they wouldn’t have died.” She’s surprised how easily the words leave her. It’s like they’ve been poisoning her heart all these years, just waiting for her to accept the antidote that would release them. She feels strangely lighter.

“I know you think that was your fault, but it was completely out of your control, Vanessa,” Nina’s voice is firm and Vanessa believes her. She knew, logically, that it wasn’t her fault, but it’s nice to have someone else say it.

“I, um, I know how it feels to blame yourself for something that wasn’t your fault,” Brooke says quietly. “I-I’m not ready to talk about it with everyone, but my past experiences haven’t been that great.”

“Jesus, am I the only one that didn’t get the tragic backstory memo?” Scarlet mumbles. “Sorry, that was probably mean, wasn’t it?”

But they all burst into laughter, and Vanessa feels better. She really does. —

The first thing she does is throw out all the liquor. She knows she won’t do it again, but she doesn’t even want the temptation.

She sinks into a routine. She cuts down on patrols and only goes with the group, like a preschooler on a field trip. She cooks dinner alone a few nights, then with Brooke when her sling comes off. They make breakfast for dinner and roll out homemade pizza dough and encourage each other to eat. She walks Riley and pets the cats and kisses Brooke every chance she gets.

Her mother is laughing at one of Vanessa’s work stories when the glass shatters.

Someone screams. Broken glass is all that remains of her windows, and she peers out the open gaps into the night. The chemical plant across the street is lost behind a cloud of hazy gray smoke tinged with green. Red-orange flames rise out of the smoke, headed straight for her apartment.

The smoke hits first, a burning sensation spreading through her veins as the gray-green blur touches her skin and throws the apartment into darkness. She tries to find her mom but she’s so dizzy, and flames are licking at the walls like a serpent’s tongue–

She runs to the bathroom and greedily gulps water like it can put out the fire in her mind. If she has that dream one more time she might smash something. She takes slow breaths that are not thick with smoke but do send bolts of pain through her still-bruised chest. When she comes back, Brooke is sitting up in bed, low lamplight illuminating her sobs.

She rushes to her side, her own dream forgotten. She cautiously puts a hand on her back, since touch sometimes scared Brooke when she couldn’t distinguish dream from reality. She leans into it, though, and Vanessa rubs slow circles. “Baby, what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?”

Brooke nods shakily. She can barely get the words out. “Th-they caught me and said I’d nev-never s-see you again, and I wo-woke up and you weren’t there and I thought…”

She feels like her heart is being ripped out. That might actually hurt less. She lets her own tears fall and pulls Brooke into the tightest hug she can manage. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, baby.”

She’ll do everything in her power to keep that promise. —

“Red velvet!”

“Cheesecake, bitch!”

“Momma wants red velvet!”

The brunch table is at war over what dessert they should have on Christmas (in addition to the 20 types of cookies Brooke’s already started) with A’Keria leading the cheesecake charge and Silk ready to die on the battlefield of red velvet.

“We can have both?” Brooke offers, as Scarlet stops Silk from catapulting bacon at A’Keria.

It’s 13 days to Christmas, and Vanessa wants to be optimistic. She gets Brooke a bunch of the cozy, oversized sweaters she loves, soft as a cloud, then orders some baking thing she had excitedly talked about when a chef used it on the Food Network. She gets her fuzzy pajamas with snowflakes and reindeer for her winter-loving, Canadian ass. One of the presents requires a lengthy phone call and a page full of notes, and one reduces her stomach to a ball of nerves.

She hopes she gets to see Brooke’s face when she opens them. —

They get their shot at Shockwave and Quake the next night, teaming up with Scarlet and Yvie. She vows to be careful, but they all know she can’t sit this one out. Not against powers like theirs.

She doesn’t even realize it’s that church until she sees the 11:01 staring down at her. It’s oddly comforting, seeing the wrong time. Even though it’s the scene from the vision, it feels normal. Vanjie doesn’t know if she expected to feel the presence of death or what, but all she feels is annoyed as the wind whips around, tangling her hair in front of her eyes. She gathers it into a ponytail, alarm bells sounding faintly in the back of her mind.

“Where are these bums?” She demands, kicking through inches of snow.

On cue, they appear from behind the church and saunter over.

“Nobody move!” Quake orders, Shockwave brandishing balls of lightning. “We want to talk first.”

“Long time no see,” Vanjie mutters. “It was nice not looking at your busted faces.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Shockwave promises. “We had to get it just right, you see.”

“Get what right?”

But he doesn’t answer.

“We have an offer for you, Frost,” Quake says darkly.

“I-I don’t want anything from you.”

“You want to hear this one,” Quake promises. “All those years we spent working for you. We want you to work for us. Do our dirty work while we focus on our ideas. I bet you’re not feeling so well without your medicine. Probably having a lot of nightmares. Wouldn’t you like them to stop? Don’t you think you’d feel better if you had it again?”

He pulls a syringe filled with blue liquid from his belt and Vanjie knows what he meant by getting it right. They want to drug her again, make her their pet.

“I don’t want that,” Frost says firmly.

“You might think that. But I know you do,” Shockwave says. “We left one little thing out. You come with us, or your girlfriend dies.”

And then he lunges at her, clenches an arm around her neck and lowers a lightning bolt beside her head, and the heat coming off it makes her sweat.

No one moves. Frost’s eyes go wide. She bites her lip, and Vanjie knows. She’s going to say yes. She’s going to let them take her, all to keep her safe.

Frost lifts her hands, and Vanjie’s heart tears.

“You can have me,” she says. “Please don’t hurt Vanjie.”

“B-Frost, no! Don’t worry about me!” She yells uselessly. Frost is already walking over to Quake, whole body shaking.

She thinks to when they were enemies, when Frost had that cold, dead look in her eyes Vanjie thought was malice but was just the drugs numbing her emotions, stealing her identity. She thinks to that first night they spent in her bed, when her hands warmed Frost’s face, and the later realization she’d had that Frost probably couldn’t remember being touched by hands that didn’t hurt her. She thinks of Brooke flinching whenever she sees a doctor, looking over her shoulder everywhere they go to make sure they’re both safe. How she tries so hard to stop doing those things. The nightmares where she cried in her sleep and re-lived things Vanessa couldn’t even imagine–

No.

They’re not taking her, and Vanjie won’t let them use her against Frost–against Brooke. This ends now.

She slams her boot down on Shockwave’s foot, and it’s enough to get her off him and into Yvie’s punches. She hurls fire at Quake, sending him flying backwards, syringe breaking, before he touches Frost.

Vanjie throws her arms around Frost, who is still trembling, eyes damp. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she pants. “I couldn’t let them kill you…”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. We’re okay. Don’t be sorry. You’re not going with them. I won’t let anyone take you.”

The ground suddenly rumbles beneath them, a gap opening like a giant mouth and splitting them apart. Rocks and dirt fly into the air, and Vanjie covers her face to ward off the sharp edges.

She looks wildly for Frost once the dust settles, and spots her on the other side of the 20-foot gap. She looks okay, but she turns and Vanjie’s heart clogs up her throat. There’s a small cut along her hairline slowly trickling blood down the right side of her face.

Brooke’s face was bleeding, Yvie had said. It can’t be. Not already.

“I’m going after Quake!” Scarlet calls, running into the woods. “Yvie’s with Shockwave!”

“Shockwave’s mine,” Vanjie insists.

Frost nods. “I’ll go with Scarlet.”

Vanjie reaches out her hand, longing to touch Frost’s cold fingers, but the gap between them is as large as the ocean.“Be careful, alright? I love you.”

“I love you too,” Frost says. Her blue suit fades into the trees.

Vanessa trudges around the front of the church to Shockwave and Yvie locked in battle.

Lightning buzzes around his hands, and Vanjie feels the energy, the electricity, in the air.

The clock is wrong, but three pieces of the vision are in place, and if this is it, Vanjie’s not going down without a fight. Or answers.

“Do you know what happened to the Memoriax formula?” It’s a shot in the dark, but if there’s even a chance, she has to take it.

He scoffs, landing a blow to Yvie’s side. “Trying to help your ice bitch? Please. We destroyed that months ago. It would have failed anyway. Everything about it was wrong. Would have scrambled her brain even more than we did,” he snickers as he swerves away from Yvie’s fist.

She sighs. She senses he’s telling the truth; he’d never miss a chance to call out someone’s stupidity. Maybe it’s better Brooke didn’t take it when she had been tempted all those months ago.

“Why’d you kill the other lab employees?” Vanjie demands, throwing flames.

He lurches out of the way. “They were worthless. The General’s pets, just like Frost. But Quake and I are different,” he declares, and one of his bolts grazes her arm, her whole body buzzing with pain. So he was one of those average white dudes who thought he was special. Vanjie should’ve seen that one coming.

She throws another fireball as he continues. “They followed the rules. They looked down on us. Would’ve turned us in if they knew we were experimenting. With them gone, no one would stop us from actually using our inventions. No one would stop us from giving ourselves powers. And we did.”

“But what’s your point? You hated the lab, so you killed everyone there. You gave yourselves powers. Now what?” She inches closer, punching his nose with her sore arm and delighting in the blood that spurts out as Yvie kicks his back, but he’s up quickly, lightning around his hands preventing another move.

“We got our revenge. Now we make Frost suffer. She’s the last piece. After that?” He shrugs. “We do whatever we want.”

He hurls another ball of lightning and she throws herself on the ground, twisting her neck as it flies above her. Then she sees its path, in slow motion. The ball crackles through the air and bursts against the base of the clock tower. It forms a jagged crack in the wall that travels up to the face, splitting the porcelain and jostling the minute hand.

Vanjie knows she shouldn’t look.

She doesn’t need to look.

But she does anyway.

11:03.

A silent death bell.

Yvie kicks his ribs, but Shockwave sends her sprawling across the snow, and she doesn’t move. He comes at Vanjie violently as she stands, and she’s not fast enough. She’s not fast enough and he avoids her fireball, and his lightning explodes in her chest, and it doesn’t let up. It zaps her energy, and she can’t even lift an arm to fight, collapsing as electricity tears through her body and her thoughts ignite.

This isn’t happening. She’s going to eat both the cakes Brooke’s making for Christmas.

Her blood is boiling from the electric current.

This isn’t happening. She’s going to see that grin stretch across Brooke’s face when she opens her presents.

Her veins are frying.

This isn’t happening. She’s going to kiss Brooke again.

Her heart is on fire.

Brooke.

It all goes black.

[mongrel-mage]

“Is your dignity worth more than their lives?”  A whump prompt requested by Anonymous, featuring Anti, Henrik, and Jackie. 

Do not repost. Reblogs, however, are very welcome! 

Heroes aren’t supposed to show their fear. That was part of courage, wasn’t it? To put on a brave face even as your heart threatened to crack through your ribs and your blood pounded a hellish beat in your ears? To bite back the whimpers that rose in your throat, clench your chattering teeth against desperate begging? Perhaps Anti’s taunting whispers had been seeds of truth, his words flowering into fact.

Do you know what you are, pet? You’re a fraud. You’re a little boy in a thrift-store costume, pretending to be something better than you can ever hope for. You will never be a hero, no matter how hard you try.

And perhaps he was right, because Jackie was afraid. He had never been so scared than he was now, forced to stand on the tips of his toes with his arms tied above his head. There was only one light in the room, a harsh glare surrounding a naked bulb.

Henrik’s tools were laid out in loving rows on a small table. Scalpel. Syringe. Forceps. Retractors. Scissors. Four sizes of gleaming titanium hooks. A small hammer. A bone saw.

The darkness around them was impenetrable and Jackie’s stomach was twisting with fear, his hands fidgeting inside the metal ovoids that Anti had locked around his wrists. He wanted to stop looking at the tools and yet he was transfixed, his eyes pulled back again and again. The anticipation was magnetic, and in his growing frenzied terror he could think of a dozen terrible uses for each of the tools on the table. What horrific operations had Anti dreamt up---and how much longer was he going to leave Jackie shaking and squirming in the dark?

~

“You’re a fucking lunatic,” Henrik spat, his glasses askew and his neat hair hanging limply forward into his face, damp with sweat. His cheek throbbed from where Anti had backhanded him, and his fingertips were tingling pins and needles--the strings were cutting off circulation. “Vhat the hell makes you think that I’m going to serve you?”

“So proud,” Anti sighed, making a show of examining his fingernails and scraping at the blood seeping into the creases of his knuckles. “You must think that your defiance is quite heroic.”

Something about that word made the doctor’s blood run cold despite the pounding heat of adrenaline. He didn’t dare to speak as Anti watched him through narrowed eyes, his irises flickering from blue to black and back again. How unsettling that someone who shared his every feature could look so inhuman…

“I think I have a way to make you see reason, doctor,” Anti said, reaching out and stroking his fingertips along the side of Henrik’s neck, caressing his fevered pulse with a tenderness that bordered on perverse. He laughed, the chilling sound of madness incarnate. “Be patient, won’t you?”

~

“Lesson number one.” Anti’s voice floated through the darkness and Jackie bit back a scream as he felt a hand pull his hood back. When had he glitched into the room?

“Lesson number one,” Anti repeated, speaking softly in his ear with a smile in his voice. “You are very much alone with me.”

The icy tip of something very, very sharp whispered across the back of Jackie’s neck, sending the small hairs standing at attention.

“Say it,” Anti told him.

“No,” Jackie answered. His voice was jerky with fear but defiant nonetheless---heroes didn’t give in so easily.

Pain like fire flared through his body as Anti dug the instrument in, digging it into his back. Jackie screamed as it was twisted one way and then the other. The warmth of his blood began to soak through his hoodie, spreading slowly down his skin as he tried to pull away.

“Say it.”

“F-fuck you,” Jackie groaned. His throat was tight, nerves alight with agony and his stomach twisting sickly. He wouldn’t throw up, wouldn’t give Anti the satisfaction of breaking.

The instrument was yanked out and Jackie whimpered against his will, the sound clawing free from his vocal chords like some mad and frantic thing.

“I always love a stubborn student,” Anti said conversationally, reaching up to let the bloody tip of the titanium hook lightly trace the curve of Jackie’s left ear.

Jackie shivered, twitching away and straining weakly against the ropes that bound him.

“It’s always such a delicious reward when you find out just what helps someone learn.” Anti moved around to stand in front of him, his wiry frame blocking out the harsh light from the single bare bulb. Even with his face in shadow, Jackie could see the terrible malicious light dancing gleefully within those blue eyes, so identical and yet horrifically unlike his own. Quick as a striking snake, Anti spun the hook in his long fingers and stabbed it upward into the soft flesh beneath Jackie’s chin, yanking his hand up and back. Jackie screamed through clenched teeth. He flinched backward instinctively and only succeeded in driving the hook in deeper, impaling himself like a fish on a line.

“Say it, Jackie,” Anti smiled, raising the hook to guide Jackie’s head up.

Jackie couldn’t help it. Tears began to trickle through his lashes, coursing in crooked rivers down his bloodless cheeks. He couldn’t move his head, knew that the slightest twitch of Anti’s merciless hand would produce more agony. Every word was torment but he forced himself to say them. “I’m alone with you.”

“Very good, pet,” Anti grinned, reaching out to ruffle his sweat-dampened hair. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Heroic as you fancy yourself, even you can be molded into the perfect little doll. Of course, we’ll have to fix you up a bit, won’t we? This warrior you claim to be?” Anti tsked disapprovingly, his voice at odds with the jack-o’-lantern leer stretching across his face. “That won’t do at all. It’s time for lesson number two.”

~

Henrik opened his eyes slowly, the world taking an uncomfortably long time to slide back into focus. His glasses had been placed carefully on his face, set deliberately straight. His hands were bound behind his back, wrists wrapped tightly in those damned red strings. His elbows were bent, bringing his hands up toward his shoulder blades in painful near-armbars. It was only by rising onto his toes that he could alleviate some of the ache--moving anywhere was out of the question.

His throat was dry but he still managed an echoing shout in the empty room. “SHOW YOURSELF, ANTI!”

“As you wish,” Anti giggled from behind him, from his left side, from his right side, from ahead. The air distorted and the sound slithered along the empty walls, crackles of jagged color glitching around him. Anti solidified perhaps two meters away. His forearms and hands were coated in dried blood, and it spattered across his pale green face like macabre freckles.

“Vhat--vhat did you do, whose blood is zhat?” Horror punched Henrik in the stomach and he nearly choked on his words.

“Have you changed your mind about submitting, about swearing to serve me?” Anti asked.

“Don’t dodge zhe fucking question, who did you hurt?” Henrik’s voice hitched upward with panic, edging toward a scream.

“Now doctor, where’s your bedside manner?” Anti asked, raising his eyebrows. “We should really use our inside voices around someone on death’s doorstep.”

“Who--” Henrik started again, but he stopped cold as Anti snapped his fingers and the empty air glitched again.

Jackie hung in a harness of red strings. His crimson suit was slashed to pieces and much darker than it should have been--with a surge of sour bile rising in his throat, Henrik realized that it was soaked completely through with blood. The hero’s hair was matted and patchy on the left side, as though a handful of it had been ripped free at the roots. What little skin wasn’t bloody was mottling with purple and blue bruises. Great gaping cuts had been sliced into his torso, and one of his ears was missing.

“JACKIE!” Henrik screamed, lurching against his strings, heedless of the sudden pain in his arms. He would have ripped them off at the shoulders if it meant getting to his brother, and it was only Anti’s black combat boot slamming into his chest that sent him flying backward.

“Submit,” Anti snarled, all traces of ghoulish humor gone.

“Never,” Henrik gasped, struggling to breathe and glancing in distaste at the dusty boot print on his white coat.

“Really, doctor?” Anti looked genuinely surprised.

“You’re a fucking psychopath, you’re a monster and if you think that I’ll ever take your strings, you goddamn glitch bitch, you might as well--”

Anti glitched to Henrik’s side and grabbed him by the throat, his sharp nails digging into the skin of his neck, piercing it and drawing threads of blood as he lifted the doctor off the ground. “Answer me this, good doctor, and look at your brother when you decide,” Anti snarled. Gone was the high-pitched giggle and the wicked humor, vanished was the haunting cheer. Anti’s voice was something truly demonic, saturated with rage and echoing with sadistic satisfaction as Jackie’s blood dripped to the stone floor in a quiet pap...pap...pap.

“Is your dignity worth more than his life?”

“I--” Henrik clawed at Anti’s fingers, struggling to pry himself free from the vice grip around his throat, but even as he battled for time he knew what his answer would be. Love saw no reason and no sacrifice was too great. “No…”

Anti grinned and dropped him, and Henrik whimpered as his arms were jerked up and back again. “Ask me for my strings, then, and promise to serve me.”

“And vhat vill happen to Jackie once I do?” Henrik was stalling and Anti clearly knew it, but he allowed the question.

“I give you my word that I won’t lay a hand on him, and that I’ll let him go free.”

Henrik’s shoulders slumped and he looked at Jackie’s bleeding face, his closed eyes and limp body. His mask had been torn away and despite sharing Henrik’s features, he looked much younger than he was. Tears, hot and unwelcome, needled at the backs of the doctor’s eyes and he blinked them furiously away. Hate boiled in the pit of his stomach and set his blood pounding like war-drums in his ears. He tried to put as much contempt into his glare and shaking voice as he spat, “May I accept your strings, and serve you?”

Anti grinned at him. Scarlet spun into being and wrapped around the doctor’s throat, the strings braiding together in a thick collar. “Of course you can,” he laughed, the ghastly sound bouncing off the walls. “I’m so glad you asked!”

“Now let Jackie go!” Henrik spat, rolling his head instinctively to try to get away from the unnatural cold of the strings.

“In good time, pet,” Anti said lazily, glitching his favorite knife into his hand and looking at it fondly. “But now, let’s see how well you can follow an order, shall we?”

The knife appeared in Henrik’s hand and the strings tightened of their own accord.

“Let’s pay Marvin a visit next.”

If someone had been standing outside the grim room in the next moment, listening to the nightmarish exchange, they would have found it impossible to truly separate the sounds of the sobbing screams of despair and the mad cackling that swelled up through the air, for the voices of the demon and the doctor were one and the same.

[0ldsold1ers]

coffee days and movie nights

Reaper76 week, MONDAY: we can be heroes / SEP

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17840567

Gabe’s had his eye on Jack all week.

It’s been a long one, even by his standards. He’s seen fifteen active war zones at this point in his prior service and training for the SEP, met hundreds of different squad members and buried more than half of them. His muscles are getting stronger and he’s faster, taller, better than he’s ever been before – and it’s still not enough.

The crisis isn’t getting better, the Omnics are getting smarter, and the SEP as a whole really doesn’t seem to be working too well.

There had been thirty of them originally, the best of the best, hand-picked and nominated by at least three superior officers each. Between them, there must have been a hundred medals. Each soldier was assigned a number according to alphabetical order, and the clandestine experiments had begun.

The mutations had followed pretty soon after.

Haroldson was the first to leave training. Had woken yelling in the night after a particularly gruelling forty mile run and been taken to the hospital wing. He’d never come back. Then Jones had started vomiting in the middle of dinner, blood spattered on the table. Williams’ fingernails had started to flake off on a mission in Vietnam – that had only been the start for her, rest her soul.

The numbers dwindled as the programme continued, until the government decided to simply recruit more. It wasn’t ethical, but they were at war and they weren’t winning. (Gabriel had spent an afternoon scrubbing latrines after arguing back. Nothing had happened to him yet, but the waiting was almost worse. Why should some other poor bastard go through the same?)

Adjustments were made to the dosages, more safety measures were put in place, and the numbers went up to fifty. And then up to one hundred before the higher-ups finally decided they weren’t going to be able to create an army like this. Besides, for the recruits who hadn’t died or ended up in the terminal hospital ward, the effects were beyond what was expected.

(Never mind the fact that only twenty-four out of one hundred had lived.)

The only bonus of there being so few of them now, is that Gabriel can actually get to know some of this squad – his squad, actually. Like Jack, for example.

He was a couple of years Gabe’s junior, the baby of the group, but that didn’t mean much in practice. The man had been recommended after saving six of his squad in Egypt and received a couple of medals to boot. He had courage in buckets, and a damn good head on his shoulders according to all reports.

None of those reports had mentioned how fucking handsome he was, on top of all that.

Sunny, golden hair shining over the bluest blue Gabriel had seen since he’d left the skies of California. And Gabriel is pretty straight, he should put that down in writing now, but if he was ever going to get down and dirty with another guy, he knows who his pick would be.

He just feels this strange need to get to know him, and he knows he isn’t alone in feeling like this. He’s discussed this with others in the squad, men and women – Jack Morrison is magnetic. There’s just something so unassuming and wholesome about him, hidden under boyish grins and stupid jokes. Gabriel knows there must be more layers there. He really wants to uncover them.

(That sounds a lot dirtier than he’d intended it to.)

But the two of them get to be pretty good friends pretty damn fast, and his opportunity to really get to know the farm boy comes sooner than expected.

It’s been a long, shitty day. The latest batch of injections is playing complete havoc with his immune system – one minute he’s feeling like he’s on the world’s highest caffeine burst, the next his muscles are aching so badly he can barely stand as he vomits out what feels like his last six meals.

Every member of the squad has a slightly different schedule, and for the first time, his and Jack’s have coincided. The younger man is still earlier in the programme and experiencing some of the nastier effects – his anatomy is still shifting around a lot. And when Gabriel bumps into him leaving the sick bay, looking particularly pale, it’s a deadly mix of sympathy and intrigue that prompts him to say:

“Hey, Morrison. Movie night tonight?”

And Jack sort of looks at him without really seeing, but replies, “Sure thing, commander.”

And that’s the extent of the conversation. But Gabe’s got something to look forward to now, something to keep him going through the day, and he spends ammunitions training that afternoon debating over what film to pick before having to run to the bathroom again and being sent back to his quarters by his CO.

It’s seven by the time he hears the doorbell to his quarters ring and he almost trips over himself to get to the door.

Jack’s stood there looking a little peaky but a whole lot more alive than he had earlier, and Gabriel welcomes him in.

“Nice place you got here, commander.” He jokes, looking around at the non-existent décor. The only reason they got individual quarters here were the vulnerable immune systems as a result of the SEP process. The organisers had learnt the hard way after a cold virus had wiped out six of the applicants.

“Thanks, I made it myself,” he replies as he made his way to the kitchenette, “And please, Gabe. Drink?”

“You got any juice?” Jack asks, and Gabriel laughs.

“Don’t worry about the doctors finding out, man, how about a proper drink?”

There’s a wry smile on his face as he replies, “I don’t drink alcohol.” Gabriel looks at him curiously. There’s a story there, but Jack doesn’t seem willing to share right now.

“Tea or coffee then?” He’s already decided he won’t be drinking if Jack isn’t. It’s no fun on your own.

“Coffee, thanks.” He says, dropping heavily onto the couch. “What film are we watching, then?”

Gabriel brings over two mugs, hands one to Jack and loads up his laptop. “I couldn’t decide in the end, so figured I’d give you a choice. Star Wars, or La La Land?” He feels he’s covering his bases here; he has to like either musicals or action films.

Jack snorts out the first sip he’d taken of his drink. “Bit of a choice there.”

Gabriel puts his hands on his hips. “Don’t tell me you’re too much of a man to enjoy a beautifully-shot love story with glorious musical numbers.”

Jack smiles, something mischievous there. “Fine, La La Land it is.”

Gabriel realises his mistake about twenty minutes into the film. It’s not that Jack doesn’t like musicals – completely the opposite.

“See, this is my main problem. Everyone keeps banging on about this film as a musical, but the music is incidental. True musicals use the numbers as exposition and story-telling. This is a film about music, not a musical.”

And the complaining doesn’t stop. “Why is the one black speaking role in a film about jazz the villain?” when Keith arrived. “See, this would be an actual song if it was a musical, not some cruddy dance silhouette.” when they danced in the observatory. “And she actually agreed?” when Mia got back in the car with Sebastian.

“Are you able to actually enjoy films?” Gabriel finally asks, mildly exasperated (but amused).

Jack gives him a look. “It’s not my fault you can’t pick a good musical.”

“Fine, what is a good musical?” he says challengingly, because he loves a good film debate even if musicals aren’t his first choice when he’s on his own. And he’s maybe a little bit desperate to know more about the soldier as well.

“Chicago. Cabaret. Les Misérables, but only on stage. I’m a big fan of Hamilton as well.” He says, eyes sparkling a little bit as he lists them off.

“I’ve seen Hamilton.” Gabriel volunteers, getting up to make more drinks and retrieve a blanket from the bedroom.

Jack says something he doesn’t really hear as he pulls the blanket off his bed. “What was that?” he asks as he throws the blanket in Jack’s direction.

The younger man doesn’t reply for a second, blushing a little bit. “I went with my boyfriend.”

The words have a strange effect on Gabe. Finding out Jack is gay is… interesting. It doesn’t change much really. Nothing at all. It just wasn’t expected.

He isn’t really sure how he’s supposed to react, but Jack’s watching him, worry starting to turn to anxiety and resentment, so he forces himself to spit out a reply. “Sounds like he has good taste in musicals, even if his taste in men is debatable.”

Jack laughs, and Gabriel knows he got it right. This is fine. Friendly teasing. Nothing more.

“I keep telling him he’s too good for me.” Jack admits, eyes crinkling just a little at the corners.

“What’s his name?” Gabriel asks, smiling unconsciously in the face of such love.

“Vincent,” Jack says, pulling the blanket over his legs, “He’s a journalist.”

Gabriel hands him the refilled mug and starts Star Wars quietly in the background. He’s not really intending to watch it. “You sound like you love him a lot. Why’d you leave him for this hell?” It’s only half a joke.

Jack does that weird little eyebrow twitch he does sometimes – in the future, Gabriel will understand he only does it when he’s telling a half-truth. “I have to protect him. People like him. There’s a lot of people back home...” He trails off, and Gabriel fills in the blanks. Jack seems like a family guy. Probably tons of siblings, local town, saw his small life decimated by Omnics and reality came crashing in. He’s heard the story before. He lets it go for now.

*

They’re doing an endless circuit of laps of the field when Jack falls into step beside him. Neither of them are really out of breath – they’ve only been going for half an hour so far. It’ll be a while before any of the platoon are really winded.

There’s a comfortable silence between them for a moment, but Gabriel can sense it’s going somewhere.

“Why did you join the SEP anyway, Gabe?” He asks, never breaking his gaze from the field ahead.

The green grass is erased for a moment, and Gabriel is back in the broom cupboard in his mother’s disintegrating house. He’s holding his shaking little sister against his chest and praying she won’t open the door.

He shakes his head, and it’s gone again. Back in the memory banks. He thought he’d finally banished that one. “Same as you. I got people I want to protect, Morrison.”

Jack nods thoughtfully, and Gabriel knows it’s only a temporary acceptance. That’s fine – he’s got another thing coming if he thinks he can get to Gabriel Reyes’ secrets first.

*

Jack corners him as they’re coming out of the showers later. “Movie night at mine tonight.”

Gabriel looks at him, amused. “You going to show me what good film choice is?”

Jack stares back, his look calculated. “Maybe.”

Four hours later, Gabriel stares at him, unamused. “You’re a walking cliché, boy scout.”

The iconic shield of Captain America glares out from the screen. Of fucking course it does.

Jack, for his part, does go a little red. “It’s a great film!”

Gabriel just laughs. “You’re not allowed to pick anymore.”

*

There’s a bunch of them out drinking one night – a visiting special ops squad from Egypt is here to help resolve a conflict with some rebels in Sudan, and they’ve all suffered losses. Gabriel finds himself sat next to a sniper – her name’s Ana, and she’s supposedly the best in the world. It’s not even supposedly – he’d seen the enemy dropping like flies earlier and wouldn’t have been able to tell you where the hell she was situated if he’d had half an hour to stop time and observe the battlefield.

He tells her as much, and she sniffs, a smile poking at the corners of her mouth. “Americans really are wrapped up in their own little worlds.” She’s flattered though, and happy enough for him to notice as much. There’s a quiet confidence to her which Gabriel is immediately drawn to. She knows exactly how good she is. This is the sort of person Gabriel wants watching his back.

“What made you sign up?” He asks her later, a couple of bottles of beer already put away. They’re having very little effect but to make him more confident. Jack’s wrapped up in conversation with Torres from their squad, but he catches Gabe’s eye and smiles.

“I have a daughter. Fareeha.” She smiles and retrieves a picture from a fold in her armour. There’s a grinning little girl in a summer dress smiling out at him, and Gabriel feels himself smiling in response.

“She’s lovely.” He takes another swig from his drink.

“What about you, Gabriel?” She asks, sipping her own whiskey. Alcohol isn’t commonly drunk in Egypt, but they’re making an exception tonight. Tonight, is for feeling alive after so many have died.

“I… used to have a sister.” He doesn’t make eye contact with Ana. Jack is looking at him – he’s clearly heard, but doesn’t comment, turning back to his conversation. “She died when my town was attacked by Omnics.” He doesn’t mention that the only reason she was out was Gabriel had made her run away with him.

He risks a glance, and Ana looks sympathetic but not pitying. She’s probably heard a hundred stories like his, and he’s done feeling sorry for himself. There’s a whole other world of people he has to protect now. He’ll do better this time.

They leave the bar an hour later, Ana’s number in his phone, and Gabriel finds himself falling behind. He sort of wants the solitude, but Jack falls back to walk beside him. There’s quiet for a minute before:

“I only had my dad. My mum died when I was eight, and they never had more kids. I don’t think they really wanted me in the first place.” He laughs without humour. “He was never really… there. If you know what I mean.” And Gabriel does, he understands absent parents even when the space is filled. “The Omnics came and then even he was gone, and all I had to look after was Vincent. I couldn’t lose him as well.”

Gabriel nods. Jack Morrison is beginning to make a lot more sense. No wonder they click so well. “I made my sister leave home with me. She wasn’t safe staying there, and then she died. So now I have to make it up to her memory.”

“You know that wasn’t your fault, right?” Jack asks him.

Gabriel nods. “My brain does. But I guess the rest of me doesn’t?” He laughs a little self-consciously. “I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself.”

Jack throws an arm around his shoulder and pulls him into his side. Gabriel is still a little taller, hopefully always will be, but Jack’s warm and cosy against him. His skin feels like it’s on fire, and he can’t remember the last time he peeled away this many layers for another person. They part too soon and Gabriel feels more alone than ever when he stands in the middle of his empty quarters.

*

“Movie night?” He asks as he passes Jack in the corridor, and the blond nods once with a smile before they part ways once more.

He’s got something good lined up for this evening.

Jack’s face is unreadable in his quarters that night.

Gabriel is worried he won’t like the film – how can you not? “How are we feeling about Moulin Rouge?” He asks, making the coffee without really thinking anymore. Movie nights are becoming a welcome addition to his routine.

Jack looks at him. “Can’t remember seeing it. It was my mum’s favourite.”

Gabriel panics. “Do you want me to pick something else? There’s a really bad film I think you’d love, The Room, it’s-“ He gabbles, before Jack interrupts him with a wry smile.

“It’s fine, Gabe, honestly. I just haven’t seen it in a long time.” Jack smiles at him reassuringly before stealing his mug from Gabriel’s hands and dropping onto the sofa. He slings his legs into Gabriel’s lap the second he sits down. Neither of them says anything about it.

Gabriel keeps a close eye on Jack’s face throughout the film, but he seems to enjoy it. It ends up Gabriel who cries through the last ten minutes (as he always does), and Jack shifts his position, leaning his back on Gabriel with his legs hanging off the other end of the sofa. The warm weight of his friend is so comfortable and he’d be happy to sit here for days like this.

His eyes widen – that’s not a good thought. They can’t sit here for days like this, this isn’t the way their relationship works. They have banter, they mock each other relentlessly, and sure they have each other’s backs, but they aren’t the centre of each other’s worlds. Jack already has a centre and his name is Vincent, and Gabriel doesn’t even want to be a pillar for the other man.

Or maybe he does.

He realises this as the end credits roll, and Jack’s heavy breathing as he falls asleep against Gabe make him hyper aware of the blonde’s chest rising and falling.

Gabriel Reyes is possibly not as straight as he thought he was.

He’s also possibly a little bit in love with his best friend.

Shit.

*