#he was severely under utilized but i loved every minute he was on screen

[illiana-mystery]

😍😵

[shima-draws]

THIS IS SEVERAL DAYS (WEEKS?) LATE BUT I LOVE YOU ALL thanks for enabling me

-The AU begins with a casual city patrol. Izuku, Todoroki, Uraraka and Ojiro are teamed up. Things are seemingly normal until they accidentally bump into Shigaraki and Kurogiri—a completely unplanned encounter. Despite Kurogiri’s warnings, Shigaraki charges into battle against the students. Kurogiri jumps in to back him up by using his warps

-There’s a close call where Izuku’s about to get the jump on Shiggy—but Kurogiri manages to open a warp right before Izuku can reach him. This is where things get...funky.

-Izuku activates One For All as he disappears into the warp. Kurogiri opens a gate somewhere nearby. Todoroki and the others wait for Izuku to reappear...but he doesn’t.

-Todoroki, Uraraka and Ojiro gang up on Kurogiri and demand their friend back. Kurogiri doesn’t know what to do, this has never happened before, and he doesn’t know how to bring Izuku back. Apparently his warp malfunctioned, and Izuku seemed to get lost between dimensions.

-Finally, several minutes later, Izuku reappears. In the ensuing chaos Kurogiri and Shigaraki make their escape. Izuku is weak and shaking from the distorted warp, so Todoroki calls Aizawa and takes him back to campus.

-Izuku explains that it felt like he was falling, and almost like his entire body was trying to rip itself apart molecule by molecule—but then he fell back into the warp and came out on the other side like he was supposed to. Recovery Girl checks on him and just says that he’s in shock, no other injuries besides that. Izuku tries telling her about the strange feeling of pain he had, but she just says it might be a side effect of Kurogiri’s quirk, and that it might be some sort of delayed reaction. Izuku accepts that and things go back to normal

Rest is under the cut because she is looooooong lmao

-Except they don’t. Izuku starts to have strange dreams about somebody calling out to him. They leave him feeling unsettled and shaky in the mornings, almost like how he felt right after the warp. The dreams don’t go away—they keep coming back almost every night, and while they seem to get clearer, he still can’t figure out what they mean.

-Things start to get worse when the dreams transition over into the waking world, and Izuku starts to see flashes of someone with white hair and sad eyes in the corners of his vision. He easily gets distracted during training, and can’t seem to shake the worried feeling he has about this being important. 

-It all comes to a head when Izuku suddenly finds himself in that weird place between dimensions during a training drill. He’s only there for a few seconds, but he’s finally able to catch a glimpse of what that world is like, because the last time he was there he was falling and spiraling and was too panicked to pay attention to his surroundings. After he snaps back to himself, he wonders if it was just in his head, but when it happens again and his friends have to shake him out of it, he realizes that his mind keeps transporting to that world...it seems like his place in reality is faltering.

-The “visions” slowly continue to get longer and longer each time, with Izuku slipping into that world more often. It’s getting harder to hide it from his classmates and teachers, and finally, there’s a time where it happens and Izuku is unresponsive for over 15 minutes. The person with the white hair keeps showing up, and Izuku is desperate to find out who they are

-During another training session, Izuku feels the lapse coming on, and decides to hide away for a bit to let it pass. Except this time he doesn’t just slip into the nether dimension with just his mind—this time his whole body transports there...and he finally figures out the truth.

-Izuku searches through the new world. Everything is distorted and gravity is all topsy turvy, and when he finally catches sight of the person reaching out to him in his dreams, he follows them. At long last he discovers just who has been communicating with him...and it’s himself!!

-The mystery ghost is finally revealed: an older Izuku, from another timeline. He explains to Izuku that the place they’re in now is a world between time and space that acts as a stabilizer and general overseer of other timelines and worlds. He refers to it as the Beyond, or by its more technical name, the nexus. Apparently the other Izuku has been here for a long time, keeping watch over all of his alternate selves and keeping the timelines in balance.

-Izuku questions just why he was brought there, and his alternate self tells him that when he activated One For All in Kurogiri’s warp, it ripped open a hole in space and he was able to make a connection to the Beyond, primarily because of his alternate self’s already existing presence there. That connection is unfortunately unstable so it kept pulling Izuku back in over time. The other Izuku has been trying to fix that connection but wasn’t able to do so without full contact, which is why he’d been reaching out to Izuku in his dreams.

-To make things easier, the other Izuku asks to be called Nexus. Izuku peppers him with questions, but Nexus is reluctant to answer. He decides to send Izuku back while he researches about his connection there to try and fix it—and then he makes Izuku swear that he won’t tell anybody about their interaction, mostly because outsiders shouldn’t be aware of the Beyond’s existence in the first place.

-Izuku arrives back in his world and realizes that several hours have passed since he vanished into the Beyond. His classmates and teachers swarm him when he returns, saying that they were about to send out pros to go find him. Toshinori questions Izuku about what’s been going on with him lately, but due to the promise he made Izuku can’t answer.

-As the days pass, Izuku continuously visits Nexus (mostly because he has no choice in the matter, being dragged there by the distortion lol) and tries to pry more answers out of him. Nexus is shockingly tight lipped and Izuku knows that something bad must have happened in his timeline for him to be here. Being older isn’t the only factor tying into Nexus’ general quiet demeanor and more serious attitude. Meanwhile, Toshinori and the Dekusquad are hurt by Izuku’s silence on what’s going on with him, and Izuku has an internal struggle over what matters more: the promise he made, or the trust of his friends and family. It’s a rough time.

-Izuku breaks down and Nexus realizes that maybe it’s time he starts being more forthcoming—he knows what the burden of secrets does to Izuku, being Izuku himself. Nexus finally reveals that his timeline had been completely wiped from existence centuries ago, due to an epic, climactic battle with AFO who was attempting to figure out how to access the Beyond and gain control over it in order to rule over all possible timelines. Apparently there was a backlash when AFO tried to access the Beyond and it caused the timeline to be erased. Izuku is absolutely horrified by the truth, realizing that billions of people existing in that timeline are just...gone now. Including everyone he loves. 

-Izuku asks if AFO is gone too. Nexus looks haunted by that, but says he’s sure that he’s gone for good...leaving himself as the only proof that his world even existed at all. After Izuku leaves, Nexus decides to do a bit of digging, just to make sure that the AFO from his world truly is dead. And what he finds is not comforting.

-Apparently, after the timeline had been wiped from existence, Nexus wasn’t the only one who was tossed out before it happened. He discovers that AFO is still around, and that he’s been skulking between timelines, gathering new quirks and more power. Terrified, Nexus summons Izuku and tells him of his findings, and says that if AFO were to come after him in the Beyond, or any of them from any timeline, there’s no way they would survive the battle.

-Izuku convinces Nexus to come to his timeline to explain everything, because clearly this is no longer a one man job and something Nexus can’t handle by himself. The issue with that is that the Beyond has a strict no interference policy, at least on the basis of entering the timelines and tampering with them, so Nexus has been stuck there for centuries because he’s literally not allowed to go timeline hopping lol

-However, since Izuku was able to make a connection there and can travel between the two worlds freely (for the most part…) he’s able to utilize that connection to allow Nexus to enter his dimension. Nexus sees the sky for the first time in hundreds of years and is shaken into complete silence.

-The rest of the Dekusquad happen to be there when Izuku arrives with his alternate self and immediately bombard him with questions, but Izuku tells them the first thing they need to do is go see All Might and the other teachers to explain what’s going on.

-Upon seeing All Might again for the first time in centuries, Nexus bursts into tears (and this is a MONUMENTAL moment because Izuku hasn’t seen him cry once since meeting him, even when he told him that everyone he loved no longer exists). There’s a lot of fluffy family bonding and it’s very soft. Toshi holds onto both his boys and cries and I’M EMO LISTEN

-Nexus prepares to tell all the staff what’s going on, but first he reveals to Izuku that he didn’t...exactly tell him everything about what happened to his timeline. A quirk user is brought in who can read memories and project them on a movie screen, and the teachers and Izuku watch in horrified silence as they experience the last night of terror and heartbreak Nexus went through before his timeline was erased forever.

-The memories play back. Izuku is awoken in the middle of the night to find that the entire city is burning. The screams and pleas for help echo all around, and he finds that he can’t get into contact with any of his friends. Racing outside, Izuku looks up to see AFO silhouetted against the red sky, floating among the ashes and smoke. As Izuku hurries to catch up to him, he witnesses the sheer horror of a mass body count and hundreds dead along the way, including lots of minor and pro heroes that he knows.

-Izuku finally reaches AFO and immediately leaps into the fight. He doesn’t stand a chance. AFO has gathered too many quirks, and explains his plan to escape this dimension and gain access to the Beyond in order to spread his control further. Izuku is joined by his friends, but does not get to enjoy their help for long, because each of them are struck down, one by one. Fueled by rage and grief, Izuku ramps up OFA all the way and completely lets loose, chipping away at AFO while he cries over the deaths of his friends. Yeah this is gruesome and dark as shit and I’m not sorry

-AFO is about to get one final attack in—but Bakugou arrives at the last second and takes the blow for him. Bakugou dies in Izuku’s arms and that’s the last straw—OFA goes out of control right as AFO is preparing to open a warp to the Beyond, and the power spark causes a backlash that distorts everything, making the world glitch out.

-When Izuku wakes up, he finds himself in the Beyond with the blood of his friends on his hands. Information starts flooding into his brain about the Beyond and all of the timelines it’s tied to, and Izuku realizes what has happened. His home is gone...his friends, his family, the entire world...all wiped from existence. Now he is the only one left, tasked with taking care of the Beyond and mourning his losses for the rest of eternity.

-Needless to say, everyone watching the memories play are extremely emotional, and Izuku (our Izuku) is overcome with so much grief for his alternate self that they end up in an embrace, sharing a feeling that only they know between each other.

-Nezu and the other teachers agree to help Nexus defeat AFO once and for all. Nexus tells them that bringing in Class 1-A would be smart as well, and that he won’t make the same mistake twice and let them die. They decide to battle it out in the Beyond, it being the safest place to go wild without any risk of casualties or property destruction. And so!! Izuku introduces Nexus to the rest of the class, they all take a trip to the Beyond together, and so begins their grand training arc.

-Nexus preps each member of Class 1-A individually and on teams. They take turns going up against him and all get their asses thoroughly handed to them :) Nexus is hella strong and has had centuries to practice. He teaches them how to use the terrain of the Beyond, how to deal with the gravity and use it to their advantage. He tells them how to look for AFO’s tells and quirks so they can deal with his multipurpose battle style. Overall it’s a very fun yet stressful time with lots of bonding, sleepovers in the Beyond, and everybody getting a huge ass crush on Nexus because 1. He pretty, 2. He stronk, 3. He’s literally an eldritch being at this point, and 4. It’s Izuku. How can they not.

-There’s a time where Nexus takes Izuku to a special corner of the Beyond, and Izuku sees it’s covered for miles and miles and miles with gravestones. Izuku realizes that Nexus had spent years crafting as many as he could for all of the people that were erased from his timeline, even those he didn’t know, and at this point he’s lost count with how many there are. There’s a separated section with all of his family members and friends, and each of the stones are carved with special memorials. The rest of the class shows up and gets to look at their own gravestones and it’s fucked up as shit!! It’s very emotional and then everybody smothers Nexus with hugs and hgnhhhgh 🥺

Obviously there’s a lot that happens after this and the whole battle and everything but like. I don’t have all that planned out yet. But this is the general idea for the most part!! I’ve had a lot of fun brainstorming for this AU, I would do anything for Nexus period, and I’m super excited to start making content for it >:D

THANK YOU FOR READING and thanks for letting me infodump oh my god this is so long

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Chemical Reaction Chapter 1

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: No set parings in this one yet

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Mentions of violence but that's canon.

Author’s Note: DO YOU KNOW HOW NERVOUS I AM FOR THIS?!? Even setting this up, I have anxiety building up. I'm ready for my debut into the Marvel fics. I do hope that if you guys enjoy this that you will leave some feedback. Anything helps! I absolutely love Tony and I hope this does him justice.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

Y/N L/N knew that when she was recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. that there would be moments where things would become chaotic. She knew that there would be moments where she would have to drop whatever it was she was working on to work on something that was being deemed top priority. Her multiple degrees from MIT had proved her to be an asset. Especially when they came across foreign objects that needed to be identified.

Over the last several years while Earth found out just how big the universe was, Y/N was behind the scenes hoping to help by making weapons to help protect the earth with what she was creating. Her projects were always kept under lock and key with the help of Director Nick Fury. He made sure her work was never interrupted and made sure she had everything she needed to create what he asked.

The sound of the lab door sliding open had caught her attention. Her eyes lifted only for a second to see Fury walking in before she looked back down at the computer screen in front of her. The program on the screen helping her to put the missing pieces she needed together.

“I’m expecting a box of my favorite cookies if you’re coming in here while I’m working.” She said, not taking her eyes off the coding. Every few moments she’d adjust the coding to adjust a few things or add coding where needed.

“Already delivered to your house.” Fury said as he walked further into the lab. “Even I know your bite is worse than your bark.”

That caused her to chuckle as her eyes flickering back and forth between him and the screen. Between Y/N and Fury, they had a softer relationship than most agents did with him. Maybe it was that her parents were friends with his family. But Y/N knew that when things meant business, the playful demeanor they had towards each other stopped.

“I’ve got an assignment for you.” He said as he came to a stop just in front of her desk.

“You mean besides this one?” She asked with a raised brow as her fingers typed along a keyboard. The new information she input caused the program to create a visual prototype of the weapon Fury had asked her for.

“For now this one is being put on hold.” Fury’s hands rested on the desk as he watched as Y/N looked up and at him. There was a slight frown on her face that caused Fury to chuckle. “Priorities change, Y/N/N. Including this one. What I need you to work on has been bumped up in priority.”

“This has to do with the mission the Avengers are on, isn’t it?” Y/N knew if she was right, that meant the Avengers had found an unknown source that needed to be identified. Usually, it was Y/N that got called in for those kinds of tasks.

“A Hydra base had a weapon on display, much like the scepter Loki had. But instead of an infinity stone at its center, it is something else. I need you and Stark to identify it.”

Y/N stilled at the name before she rolled her eyes. “We both know Stark and I don’t get along.”

“You two are the only ones that I want working on this.” He said as he stood up straight. “Between his brain and yours, it would save us a lot of time and expedite us destroying it.”

“You mean to study it before figuring out a way to utilize it?” Y/N knew better. She knew how Fury worked. His secret projects Y/N had been a part of from time to time. It was her design that was used for the prototype gun that had been created from pieces of the Destroyer when it came to Earth.

A knowing look formed on Fury’s face and it caused a smirk to pull at Y/N’s lips. He shook his head slightly. “It depends on if it can or cannot be utilized. I want to know why Hydra had it in the first place.”

“And that requires Stark’s help?” She asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I get it.” He said as he tilted his head slightly. “You two have history. But I need the best minds I’ve got working on this.”

“What about Banner?” She asked, trying to get out of it one last time. “I don’t butt heads with Banner.” She was going to take whatever chances to avoid Tony Stark.

Fury eyed her before he turned to walk away from her. Y/N huffed out air as he had begun to do so. That was his answer to her question. He wasn’t going to let her out of this. Y/N should have known. For as many times as she tried to get out of work, Fury always got what he wanted.

“I want another batch!” She called out as she watched him leave. “Preferably the ones your mom makes.”

“Wheels up in an hour L/N.” Fury said as the sliding doors open. “I expect you to be on it.”

_____

“Alright, let's get this down to the lab.” Tony Stark said as he watched as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents began to pull the weapon off of the quinjet as he walked right behind them.

His hands slid against each other as he walked down the ramp, his eyes lingering on the case. The weapon was securely locked within a case to ensure that nothing would happen to it on its journey. He was eager to get started on figuring out what element was powering it. He had seen first hand the energy that came off of it in action.

“Perfect,” Natasha said as she exited out of the quinjet. “Fury just informed me that your new lab partner is already there and waiting for it's arrival."

Tony stopped in his tracks and turned towards Natasha. “Excuse me? There’s a what in my lab?”

“Fury sent someone over.” Natasha said as she came and stood in front of Tony. “Didn't give me a name though. He believes between the two of you, you’ll be able to identify the element faster and get it ready for transport."

Tony’s eyebrow raised. There was only one time he had opened his lab open to someone. And that had been to Bruce Banner. Why Fury decided it was a good time to send someone new in, Tony would never understand.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. who is currently in the lab?” He asked as he looked nowhere in particular. He wanted to know what he was about to walk into.

Miss Y/N L/N is, sir. The A.I said from overhead. She arrived minutes before you did.

“Shit,” Tony muttered under his breath as he looked back over at Natasha. The woman currently had a smirk pulling at her lips. “This is a joke right?”

Natasha laughed as she shrugged. "I'm only passing along the message."

Natasha knew enough about the relationship between Tony and Y/N. They butted heads when it came to almost anything and everything. She enjoyed watching the way Y/N had gotten under his skin any time they were in a room together. If there was one person that could put Tony in his place, it was Y/N.

Tony mumbled under his breath as he began making his way towards the elevator. He could probably avoid her for a few more hours. But knowing Y/N, she'd have things rearranged by the time he made it down there. It was better to face her now than later. It would definitely be worse later.

"Let Y/N know I'll call for backup when she needs it!" Natasha called out just as the elevator doors were closing.

_____

A frustrated sigh passed Y/N’s lips as she looked around the lab. With as many times as Y/N had been there, it had never ceased to amaze her that Tony would have things completely out of place. That included the perfectly neat station that she had left behind since she was becoming a frequent guest.

Pieces of junk had been carelessly tossed on the workstation, causing the items she had left on there to be scattered about. Stains from god knows what had been smeared on a majority of the files she left behind. No doubt things that Tony only looked at before tossing them aside.

They may have gotten on each other’s nerves, But Y/N had tried helping with some of the tech he was working on. While mostly suggestions, she knew that some of them would have upgraded things in a way that would help Tony. But with his stubbornness and ego, she wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t take any of it into account.

“J.A.R.V.I.S?” She called out as she walked around the workstation. “Does Tony actually need any of this or am I free to dispose of it?”

“Don’t answer that.” Tony said as he walked into the lab. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents close behind him, bringing in the encased weapon. The moment it was placed on a workstation, they left just as quickly as they came. “It is after all my lab and I can place things where I want, and when I want.” He had come to stand a few feet away from Y/N.

Y/N’s eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes stayed on his before a small smirk slowly pulled at her lips. “J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

Mr. Stark is not intending to use the items he disposed of on your desk. I believe the term he used was ‘a junk table’.

Y/N watched as Tony’s mouth dropped at the A.I.’s words. He had never once had it work against him and yet, Y/N had managed to do so. “You turned him against me.”

“Not against,” She defended. “I just added a few things to ensure that I’d get the right information instead of you sabotaging me.”

“For the millionth time, that was not sabotage. I ensured everything was fair and square.” Tony rolled his eyes. “When did you even have time to hack into things?”

Y/N bit down on her tongue to keep her from speaking her mind. She should have known better. She should have known that he would simply deny it, just as he had plenty of times before. Instead, she let out a deep breath. “The last time I was here.” She said as she uncrossed her arms and began moving towards the case. “If I’m not mistaken, you were otherwise preoccupied with an overly bubbly blonde. Plus it wasn’t like I corrupted the system in any way. I just need someone on my side from time to time.”

Just as she reached the case and went to open it, Tony’s hand reached hers and stopped her from opening it. She turned to face him, her hand still on the latch. There was a slight glare on Tony’s face. Whether it was from her words or the fact she was attempting to open the case, she’d never know.

“You have no idea what this thing is and you want to just open it, like it’s nothing.” He said never taking his eyes off her.

“That’s what the point of this is.” She shook her head. “All the necessary protocols already came into play the moment the agents left.”

“I highly doubt that.” He said, taking a step back.

“Want to ask? Or should I?” Her fingers tapped on the latch as she watched him. It was a challenge.

The simple words enough to show how much they really trusted the other. While Tony had no idea about the rewrite that Y/N had included in his system, they hadn’t always agreed on things. If anything, they always disagreed with each other ninety-nine percent of the time. That one percent was a mix of giving in to what the other wanted or, Y/N getting her way.

It was as Tony let out a sigh that another smirk began to grow on Y/N’s lips. “J.A.R.V.I.S. are-”

Yeah, it was going to be a long week for the both of them.

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[evilwickedme]

ok so to sum up my feelings for leverage: redemption, season 1(a): (long post warning, there’s a tl;dr at the end)

I knew that Hardison wouldn’t be in most of the season due to Aldis Hodge being a busy bee nowadays, but I didn’t realize that meant he’d only be around for the first two episodes. He was sorely missed, not only because of my attachment to him, but also because he’s usually the grounding factor in the group dynamic, and his role as info guy and tech guy was split evenly between two characters who had their own issues.

That said, Hardison is absolutely a highlight of the two episodes he’s in. his speech about redemption was everything I could’ve hoped for (plus, more evidence for the Jewish!Hardison pile...). I wish we’d gotten to see more of his dynamic with Breanna because what we saw was funny and sweet and we don’t generally get to see Hardison taking care of somebody who so desperately needs taking care of. I hope that Aldis Hodge is around for more episodes in 1(b), because what we’re left with feels a little hollow.

Sticking to original leverage characters for now, for the most part the leverage crew still felt true to the original series as characters, even if the show itself was a little bit confused at times. The actors understand their characters and embody them so well that I think one could give them the trashiest script ever and they’d still sell it. Sophie is a particular focus in 1(a) because of Nate’s death, and she’s particularly well written as a result.

That said, I’m super bitter that we saw little to no mastermind!Parker. Parker’s character being given the mastermind role was a big deal and it feels like they’re walking it back because they feel uncomfortable with it. It is eventually given an in-text excuse, but literally in the last episode, and it was not a particularly convincing reason, and in fact contradicted moments from previous episodes (Sophie leaving for a client meeting and ignoring Parker in ep3 comes to mind). It’s frustrating, it makes the end of the original leverage feel pointless, and letting Parker make a decision once in a while is not the same thing at all. The original series repeatedly showed us that while everyone in the team had their strengths, Parker works problems and solves them in unique, interesting ways, and other characters’ days in the limelight tended to be comedic or even failures. It’s a broken promise, and a pretty major broken promise at that.

On a more positive note, Parker’s dynamic with literally everyone was fantastic. She’s possibly the best written character this season. They’ve taken the autism out of the subtext and into the text (although obviously still undiagnosed), and given her coping mechanisms that were taken seriously in the text even when they were played for laughs, which I appreciated. Her attempts to mentor Breanna were sweet, her friendship with Sophie was electric and at times (CRIMES) hilarious, and as usual, she has a fantastic dynamic with Eliot that makes my heart burst. If you don’t think they’re romantically involved, at least acknowledge there’s a life partnership here. They’ve spent the last decade together.

(We’ll get to Harry.)

Eliot isn’t given much arc-wise, which is frustrating since he’s my favorite. He’s being presented as the goal at the end of a redemption arc, ie to keep working at it every day until your soul heals or whatever, and it doesn’t reflect the message they’re trying to convey via Hardison’s speech and our two new characters. He’s got his moments, but I think they under utilized his potential.

Breanna!!! Breanna’s my new favorite, except for Eliot. She’s hilarious, she’s insecure, she’s nerdy and excited in a way that’s similar to Hardison but still distinct in its inherent teenage-girl-ness and I LOVE IT. Unlike the previous series, where Hardison’s “age of the geek” was often a joke played on Hardison, we’re at the point where Eliot and Parker are both right there with him, and so they accept and even appreciate Breanna’s nerdiness. Also, canon gay character? In YOUR Leverage? It’s more likely than you think.

(No, I never thought they’d make ot3 canon on screen. I hoped, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.)

I think Breanna’s the character that will be the most interesting to see grow. She’s got a lot of potential and a list of crimes a mile long (or more). I adore her with all my heart. I want to see her tiktok account.

Harry. Oh, Harry.

It took me a while, but I do like Harry. It took a while, because the narrative positioned him at the same level as Nate back in episode 1 of original Leverage. But in episode 1 we didn’t know the other characters. We had Nate as the POV character, and so we cared about him because we were seeing the world through his eyes. (This is TV Studies 101. I know this, because I took TV Studies 101 in 2019.) In Leverage: Redemption, we no longer have a POV character, for several reasons:

Nate, previously the POV character, is dead.

As it is, by mid-season 3 of leverage Nate was no longer a POV character. This is, coincidentally, the point where the leverage writers realized they had four other characters in the main cast they could do something with, and in-universe, Nate accepted that he was a thief, not a special Good Man.

Sophie is sort of a POV character for the first episode of the revival, but only for the first few minutes. Afterwards, the series settles into the groove of seasons 3-5, i.e., the entire crew is our POV. We know our crew, and we love them as is.

Narratively, however, Redemption insists on positing Harry as the POV character, because it is his redemption we are pursuing most vehemently. And I think they really relied on us already knowing the actor - I’ve never seen him in anything before, so to me he was a completely fresh face and they put almost no effort into selling him to me. Beyond being competent and consistently mildly baffled by the antics of the leverage crew, I honestly don’t know who this man is by the end of EIGHT episodes with him. I have a much better handle on Breanna by the end of 1(a), and I can tell you I knew all five of the original leverage crew better by the end of the first episode of the original series than I do Harry. What’s the name of his daughter, John Rogers. Is he still married. How old is the daughter. Why is none of this worth mentioning. Give him a sense of humor that isn’t reacting to other people’s shenanigans. I’m so frustrated. It’s bad writing.

I did manage to grow to like Harry by the end, but I’m pretty sure this is down to Noah Wyle’s charismatic portrayal of an under-developed character, at least partially. And I never stopped being frustrated at not knowing who this man is at all.

The two highlights of the season are undoubtedly episodes five and six. Episode five was the first time I felt like the episode was more than a collection of good moments between the main cast and mediocre moments between the main cast and also the main plot. The issues with pacing and tone that I suffered through for most of the season were mostly non-existent in ep5 and 6, and at least in episode 5 I attribute that to the pared down cast. They had time to focus not only on our actual characters - Sophie, Parker, Breanna - but also on the case. This is the only client from 1(a) I am going to remember next week without googling it first, mark my words.

Episode six worked for the exact opposite reason - it completely disregarded the client and plot and immersed itself in the characters. Breanna gets a moment to shine, but everybody else gets their bits and I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the script that was most fun to write. The characters felt natural, real, and captured the found-family dynamic that’s been missing all season for the first time.

While episode 2 is the weakest episode, I don’t actually have much to say about it. I am disappointed in episode 8. For a mid-season finale, I really expected them to do something. Instead, it was an episode about Nate Ford that copped out of being about Nate Ford (both with fake-Nate and with the new version of him being relayed to us). I would have told the writers to give that energy back to episode 1 and write an episode that’s about anybody who isn’t Harry, oh my God. I know I said I grew to like him but so many episodes were about Harry. He’s the newbie! Why didn’t Hardison get an episode that was actually about him, considering he was only around for two episodes? Why does Eliot have to be the butt of the joke when the theme of the series should directly tie back to him in a much more meaningful way? The last episode parodies their own tagline by saying Eliot isn’t just a hitter, but it deftly avoids noticing that they’ve turned him into nothing more than very muscly comic relief, including in that very episode!

Also, I hated the Marshal. Eliot actively looked uncomfortable around her.

tl;dr

The season took a while, that’s definitely true. But it did find its footing eventually, and by the halfway mark of 1(a) it finally felt cohesive again. The characters were played fantastically even when they weren’t well-written, and if nothing else, the humor landed every time. It still has its kinks and problems to work out, but if you look at it as a brand new show rather than a continuation of one that went off the air over eight years ago, it’s actually doing rather well. I’m choosing to judge it in both lights - according to its own standards, it establishes its identity in episode five; according to Leverage standards, it establishes its connection to its roots in episode six. Either way, I thoroughly enjoyed 1(a), and continue to have high hopes for 1(b).

fic writing will commence in three, two, one...

[jamielea81]

When We Were Young

Chapter 2

Description: Leaving the only home your daughter had ever known wasn’t part of the grand plan. But then again, sometimes taking chances can change your whole life. And you should know that, you’ve been doing that since the start.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Angst. A curse word or two.

Word Count: 2,700

A/N: Thank you for the wonderful response to the first chapter! Hope you enjoy this added twist. As always, this is strictly for fun and I mean no harm. Please let me know your thoughts as I love to read them. Likes and reblogs give me life.

Catch up with Chapter One

**

“I’m your..” Chris shook his head and looked at the assistant in the room and then at the photographer. “Jodes, I need a minute.”

Chris didn’t wait for a response, instead he slid his arm from around Ellie’s waist to grab her hand, pulling her to the far end of the room.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Ellington. Ellie for short,” she said, playing with her hair. “Look, I don’t want anything. Just wanted to see you in person,” she said softly, her nerves coming back to her.

“Why do you think I’m your father? You have to understand, this isn’t the first time someone has said those same words to me.”

Ellie bit her lip and nodded. “NYC Cryobank and Family Planning.”

“Fuck,” Chris swore softly, ducking his head. “How old are you are you anyway?”

“Fifteen.”

“It’s not possible,” Chris said shaking his head. “I was eighteen when I donated.” He licked his lips and patted his pocket for his phone.

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t expire like milk,” she replied, Chris giving her a weak smile.

Ellie played with her fingers, not knowing what else to say. The whole speech she played over and over in her head was suddenly forgotten. Reaching into her jeans pocket, she pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper and stretched out her hand for him to take it.

“It’s my mom’s number. Figured it would be weird for you to call a minor.” Chris took it and shoved it into his back pocket. “Not that you have to call!” she added quickly. “I just wanted you to know that I exist. And we’re great. My mom and me, I mean. I’ve had a great life and wanted to see the person that made it possible for me to exist. Just don’t call tonight. She doesn’t know I’m here. If you decide to call, I mean.”

They looked at each other. Ellie trying to memorize his face. Chris trying to find himself in her eyes and smile.

“It was nice to meet you Ellie,” Chris said, a closed lip smile on his face, finality in his voice.

“Ye-yeah. You too,” she said, dropping her head and walking out the room. She wanted her mom and she wanted her now. This was a mistake and it was taking everything in her not to cry.

Ellie made it to the nearest restroom, walking past a line of girls that were washing their hands or fixing their makeup. She pushed into the stall at the end of the row, locked the door and sat down on the seat. She grabbed a large wad of toilet paper from the dispenser, flushed the toilet, and placed the paper over her mouth. The tears and her sobs started to flow. She hoped that both the sound of the toilet and the paper would muffle her cries.

**

It had been three hours since you received the call from the academy about your daughter missing class. Three long hours of not knowing where she was. Not knowing if she were safe. Gwen had done her best to calm you down as she usually did, but your mind was still reeling. The troubling thing is there is nothing you could do but wait.

The house was mostly unpacked except for your books that were going to be placed in the small bookcase in the living room and your office which you had not utilized in the nearly three weeks that you lived in Belmont. You couldn’t really call it an office per se, it was nook off the formal dining room that wouldn’t be used. Ellie and you were plate on your lap on the couch or out on the deck kind of people. You had a dining room table, but it was mostly a place for Ellie to spread out her school assignments and for the occasional crafting you did.

With your books all unpacked, the dining room table dusted, and the office looking it bit more like an office, you collapsed on your couch. Feet up, blouse off save for your cami, you were done with this day. Once she got home and knew she was safe, you were going to bed. You’d have to dream up a punishment. Ellie hardly got in to trouble. She occasionally mouthed off like teenagers did, but this was uncharted territory for you.

You heard the door open and you were immediately on your feet, rushing down the stairs to the entry way. Her face was puffy and red and you knew immediately something was wrong.

“Mama…” she started, having a hard time catching her breath. “I’m…so…sorry.”

You wrapped your arms around her as she started to sob on your chest. “Shhh. I got you,” you said softly.

When she started to settle down you urged her to follow you up the stairs. “Why don’t you take a hot bath and I’ll get your jammies ready and then we’ll talk?” Ellie nodded her head slowly. “You can use my tub. I’ve got the good bath stuff anyway,” you said, sending her a wink.

“Thank you,” she said with teary eyes. “I love you.”

“Love you too baby.”

Whatever happened was big and you hoped she would be honest with you.

**

A frozen pizza was currently baking in the oven. Tonight, was not the night for a home cooked meal as you were still too worked up as was Ellie. You had changed into pajamas as well despite it only being six in the evening.

Ellie was sitting on one end of the couch with her body turned to face you, her knees pressed against her chest. You sat on the other end facing her, one leg tucked under the other.

“I haven’t been truthful with you,” she started. “About a year ago, I found some information out.”

“What kind of information, Ellie?” This was sounding way too ominous for your liking.

“Christian. You remember Christian?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“From third and fourth grade soccer when you played on that co-ed team?”

She nodded her head. “Christian’s really good with a computer. I’m pretty sure he’ll be working for the FBI one day. He uh, he was able to do some digging for me.”

“What in the world would he need to dig up for you?”

“He was looking into the donation center you used. I asked him to try to find out information about the donor you picked.”

“Ellington Rae,” you breathed out.

“I’m sorry mom. I just really wanted to know.” Her eyes started to well up with tears again.

You nodded your head and gestured with your hand for her to continue.

“Well, he found your case number and was able to find the donor number. He eventually found the name assigned to the donor number.”

You let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I went to see him today. He lives here in Boston. At least he does most of the time.”

“Ellie!” you shouted. “That’s not only dangerous but an evasion of privacy. We don’t know this person. He could be a bad guy. He could have a family of his own now.”

She was full on crying again and your heart was stuck between being angry and wanting to soothe your child. Of course, you pulled her to you, wrapping her in a hug again.

She pulled back, letting her hands fall into your lap. You grabbed on to both of her with yours.

“Are you okay?” You shook your head. “Of course, you’re not.”

“There’s something else,” she said.

“Do I wanna know?”

She licked her lips. “He’s Chris Evans. The actor.”

Well, shit.

“I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“I just wanted to see him mom. Not on the movie screen or in pictures online. I just had to see his face in person. Just once. I wanted to see if he smiled like me. Or see if his eyebrows shoot up like mine do when I laugh.”

You nodded your head numbly. Even though you barely talked to your own father, you understood the need to know.

“That’s where I went today. There’s a comic convention downtown and he was appearing today. I bought a ticket to get my picture taken with him. He’s only there today, so that’s why I skipped school.”

You released her hands, standing to your feet, and started to pace. “Was this whole move a lie Ellie? Are we here so you could meet this man?”

She covered her face with her hands but didn’t answer.

“Did we only move to Boston so you could meet your biological father?” you asked sternly.

“S’not the only reason. I’m so sorry mom. I wanted us to move here for Harvard, but I could have found another engineering high school closer to home.”

You shook your head. It was your turn to cry. The two of you had a very honest relationship and made decisions together. The trust was broken and you weren’t sure if it could be repaired anytime soon.

The closeness you and Ellie shared is why she knew from the time she was eight years old that she didn’t have a dad like other kids did. You were open and honest with her about the decision you made at twenty one. The two of you have talked about it several times through the years.

When she was twelve, she questioned whether you had gotten pregnant to escape your parents. You explained to her that wasn’t the reason. You had wanted to be mom. Had known that’s what you wanted more than anything.

You weren’t in a serious relationship and didn’t want a random hook up to father your child. You had friends you could have asked, but thought that would complicate things as those friends settled down with spouses of their own. You had just graduated from college and were spending four additional months in New York before your lease ran out. Your parents had expected you to come home to Kentucky and you had planned on doing so. You had money, more than enough. Not only did your parents send you a more than generous allowance every month for four years, you also had a large sum of money your grandma Ellie had left you that became yours when you turned twenty one. Her only request was to do something for you with it.

Researching and planning was what you were good at. Apparently, those skills came in handy when finding a donation and family planning center. Two consultations and an appointment later, you had a positive pregnancy test sitting on your bathroom vanity. After two months, you called your mother to tell her. To say that conversation went poorly was an understatement. You were throwing your life away according to her. She didn’t know Ellie was the result of a sperm donor. To this day, only Ellie and couple of close friends knew. Your mother and father figured you had been with a deadbeat guy who chose not to stick around. You were essentially told not to come home.

New York City wasn’t a place you wanted to raise a child. You had loved the city all through college, but rent was expensive and buying would be out of the question. You wanted some place that had that small-town feel. Somewhere a little quieter. When your classmate Peter offered you a place to stay in his home-town of Wilmington, you took him up on the offer. Living with Peter and his brother Caleb was a bit of a change for you. You often found yourself cleaning up after the two of them. It didn’t last long as you found employment with an employer that wasn’t discouraged by your six-month pregnant belly. You found a two-bedroom apartment shortly after, decorating the nursery in neutral colors because you wanted to be surprised.

Ellington Rae Y/L/N was born in the early hours of April sixth. Named affectionately after your grandmother. Your favorite person in the world, second now that you had your little Ellie. She came out screaming and never stopped. She was a fussy baby and you found yourself in tears almost as much as she were. But she was your everything and still is. Your parents came to visit when she was three months old. They visited yearly, often bringing gifts that a child did not need nor want. When she turned five, they sent money once a year for her birthday. The money went into an account for Ellie’s schooling and when she expressed dreams of Harvard, you were glad you did.

When she was three years old, you moved out of that small two-bedroom apartment into your bungalow near the beach and that’s where the two of you stayed. Friends became family and you were both happy. But now everything seemed to be a mess.

“It’s going to take time, Ellie. My trust has been broken but I’m mostly hurt that you couldn’t come to me about this. We should have talked about this. We could have come up with a plan together.”

You sit back down on the couch and pull her back to you. She’s still your baby even though she’s as tall as you.

“You’re right and I’m sorry. It was a mistake,” she said, shaking her head. “I gave him your number. You know. In case he wanted to call. Wanted to know me.”

She sounds so damn broken and you’re feeling broken over it.

“Okay, baby. If he calls, we’ll take it one step at a time. But if he doesn’t, it’s his damn loss because you are the best thing I have ever known in this world and that will never change.”

**

Two weeks had passed and Chris hadn’t called. Ellie didn’t talk about it, but you knew it affected her. Being rejected by anyone hurt. You couldn’t blame Chris entirely though. Him choosing to donate all those years ago was his choice. It was supposed to be an anonymous one. Now he knew he brought a life into this world. Accepting that had to be hard for anyone. Accepting that and being a public person was probably harder.

Punishing Ellie was harder on your than it was on her. She’s the new kid in town and at that age where life long friendships are formed, you didn’t want to exclude her from hanging out with her friends. So, you limited it to only weekends. She had to check in with you on where she was or if she went to a different location than what was planned. She was also in charge of dishes and taking out the trash. Her biggest punishment of all was knowing you lost a lot of trust in her.

**

Your phone rang only to stop ringing after two rings. You were in the kitchen, putting away this week’s groceries so you hadn’t been able to reach it. Taking a quick glance, you didn’t recognize the number. Figuring they realized their mis-dial, you went back to deciding which meat to leave thawed in the refrigerator and which to freeze. Exciting times.

It started to ring again. You turned away from the freezer to stare at the device sitting on the kitchen island. That same number appeared on the display. As the second ring rang out, you dared it to continue a third time. It did. You grabbed it with one hand, clicking the accept button with your other.

“Hello,” you answered.

“H-hi. This is Chris. I uh. This is Chris Evans.”

**

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[notyetneedcoffee]

Steammy

Paring: dark!Steve Rogers x Reader Prompt: Steammy Summary: Steve is not happy you being touched Warnings: NSFW - Smut, dubious consent, rough sex, choking (not breath play)

Challenge fic celebration for the incredible @darkficsyouneveraskedfor - she’s reached 5.5k followers!!!!

Author’s Note: the GIF got me flagged sooooo here we go again! If you left a note with anything you feel like I need to see, you’ll have to repost.

Steve Rogers arrived late to the hotel room the team commandeered for their control room. He'd been delayed by a small group of Senators who's sense of self-importance demanded a face to face meeting rather than the published Avenger's report everyone else received. By the time he arrived, the mission was underway and his patience was frayed.  

The dozen monitors stacked upon the table along the wall showed the private lounge of the executive suite from every angle. Several heavily armed security men stood about in expensive suits that almost hid their weapons, but not quiet. Two other men lounged on a huge curved sofa in even more expensive suits, a scantily clothed girl under each arm. Across from them, on a matching leather love seat their target spoke animatedly with one hand and held a woman on his lap with the other.  

Rogers froze, an angry beast roared to life in his head. He managed to keep his voice low and stable. "I thought Natasha was going in."

"I was." A voice answered from behind him. He turned to see the little red head sporting a swollen black eye. "Until one of Lundberg's goons got lucky. Elbow."

Steve scowled at the screen. "I can't believe you sent Y/N in there."

"She's trained." Nat replied at the same time Stark said, "She's great!"

Crossing his arms painfully tight, Steve leaned against the wall behind everyone else. His features drew together into a painful scowl as he watched you upon Lundberg's lap, skirt riding up and exposing your bare thighs. You tossed your head back and laughed, nuzzling your nose into his slicked back hair. Steve ground his teeth together.  

One of the other men had dropped out of the conversation, now fully making out with the woman on his right. The woman on his left lowered her head and began to suck his dick. The second man, though still conversing with Lundberg, massaged the tits of one girl while the other nibbled on his ear.  

Steve watched Lundberg's hand move up the inside of your thigh and disappear under your skirt. He was going to rip his arm off. "Get her the hell out of there." He growled. "She's got to have the biometric data you need."

"She can get out of there herself, Rogers. You don't need to babysit her." Nat shot him a sideways glance, easily seeing the effect the situation was having on the super soldier. However, she figured if he was too stuffy to out the relationship he had with you,, she wasn't going to cut him any slack.  

He tore his eyes away from the screen long enough to glare at her. Natasha smiled back.

"Damn," Stark chuckled. "We're recording this, right? This is being recorded? It's going full on Penthouse Forum in there. This shits better than PornHub."

A dangerous rumble escaped Steve's chest. The two men and four women on the sofa were indeed getting naked. Lundberg's tongue ran up and down your throat. Steve took a step towards the door. Fuck it, he didn't care who he pissed off.  

You suddenly tried to pull away from Lundberg, but he held you tight. One of the armed guard stepped forward. One hand went to your stomach, one to your mouth. Your too sweet voice whined. "Oh, Bobby. I think I'm gonna be sick."

He loosen his grip. "Now wait a minute if you think..."

Only one of the cameras caught the image of you sucking on your right ring finger. Under that nail, the powered substance induced a near immediate reaction. You leaped from Lundberg's lap and vomited the last three martinis into the potted plant.  

"Get her out of here!" He shouted.  

One of the armed security men escorted you down the hall to a suite. He pushed you inside, none too gently and locked you in. The closet door slipped open a second later and Clint Barton's smiling face popped out. "Hey there, ready to blow this joint?"

"Definitely." You smiled back.  

Inside the closet, a hole had been cut into the ceiling to look like a utilities hatch but it went to the room directly above. A tripod hoist pulled you up one at a time. Waiting in the bedroom, Natasha stood with an unusually big smile. "Good job."

"Thanks." You pulled nearly invisible pieces of synthetic film off your skin carefully and placed them on sterile glass slides. "Finger prints. Ugh, DNA. Palm prints. Did the camera get close enough on his eyes?" You took off the necklace, which held the microscopic camera in the charm.  

"Got it all." Nat collected everything. She handed you a soda to wash the taste from your mouth. "We've brought your duffel and got you a room through there if you want to go clean up. It's the bedroom on the other side of the lounge." She pointed at the door. "We'll debrief an do reports later, since we all saw the video there's no hurry."

"Perfect." You sighed, feeling gross.

Closing the bedroom door with a quiet click, you practically jumped out of your skin as Steve reached over and locked it. He’d been waiting, silently, in the dark. “Jeez, I’m going to put a bell on you!”

“I can’t believe you went in there.” Steve stepped into your space, towering over you.

“I was fine. Nat couldn’t go.”

“He was all over you.” Steve growled out.  

“It was a job.” You answered, unapologetic.

His hands grasped your upper arms. A bitter scowl twisted his beautiful features. “You said there’s only me, only I get to touch you, that you’re mine.”

“I did.” You swallowed, laying you palms on his chest. “I am.”

“I can smell that bastard on you.” Steve’s nose crinkled. “Come here.”

He pulled you into the large bathroom. Steve’s hands fisted up the flimsy fabric of you tiny cocktail dress and ripped it from your body. The intensity in his eyes held you frozen in place. One large hand grabbed you by the back of the neck and pushed you into the luxurious walk in shower.  

Steve stripped off his clothes, kicking them into a corner as he watched you remove the black lace bra and panties. His lip curled up, cursing. “I can’t believe you fucking wore those for him.”

“Steve,” You tried to reach for him, but he grabbed your wrist and twisted it behind your back. Your bare tits hit the cold marble tiles. He kicked your feet further apart.  

“Do not touch me, do not talk to me, until his stench is off of you.” Steve turned on the water the cold spray making you gasp. He released your wrist. “Put your hands up on the wall. Keep them there.”

You did as you were told, feeling the cold water go hot. Steve’s soapy hands started on your legs, rubbing hard, deep, leaving the skin pink. His fingers dug into the muscles of your inner thighs, making your knees angle together and a moan escape your lips.  

Steve stood, slapping you wet ass hard.  

You cried out. Cunt soaking, He pressed his hard cock against your ass, palming your pussy. He growled.  “Did he touch you here?”  

“No.” You shook you head.

“You wouldn’t lie to me?” His free hand held your head back by your throat. “Did he touch that cunt of mine?” His hand slapped your pussy, sending shocks through your core.

“No.” It came out in a shaky whine.

“I can smell him here.” His fingers squeezed around your throat for just a second. Spinning you around Steve pushed your back against the wall. With soap slicked hands and a cloth he rubbed the skin of you neck and chest  pink. The cloth hit the ground with a wet squish. Steve rough fingers rubbing into your breasts, your waist, and hips.  

“Wanted to ripped his fucking arms off.” He growled. “And you, squirming around on his goddamn lap. Rubbing that ass of yours …”

Steve spun you around again, pushing you hard against the tile. His hand cracked against your ass cheek, then the other. Two fingers shoved deep into your wet cunt. He pumped into you hard and fast, lifting you on to your toes. Growling in your ear. “Mine.”

Your legs began to quiver, chasing your climax, but Steve pulled away. He took a hand full of wet hair and forced your to your knees. Hot water sprayed in your face, bouncing off his chest and abdomen. You opened your mouth as he forced your head back. He pushed his cock passed you’d lips to the back of your throat, stretching your jaw. Taking him as best as you could, your hand squeezed around the base of his cock, moving in concert as his fucked you mouth.  

“Agh,” He breathed hard. “I’m gonna come. You hold hold it in your mouth. Ah, fuck.  I want to see you swallow it down.”

His hips snapped. Steve’s grip in your hair tightened, His release filled your mouth and you concentrated to keep from swallowing him down,  

Strong hands lifted you to your feet, pressing you against the tile again. His knee spread your legs hands held your wrists over your head, “Don’t swallow.” Steve ordered, biting your lower lip.

He held both your hands in his left. His right hand groped down your body, pulling at your nipples, slapping at the hardened peaks. Steve fingers slipped over your sensitive clit, rubbing and circling the bundle of nerves. Strong fingers curled into your cunt, pumping violently against your g spot. Wet sloppy sounds battled with the water of shower. You moaned, breathing heavy through your nose. You began to quake.  

“Open your mouth.” Steve growled. You did, showing him the inside filled with his come. “Swallow.” You did and then cried out as your orgasm slammed into you, cunt flooding over his hand. Steve covered your mouth in a brutal, bruising kiss. Teeth and tongue, and swallowed moans.  

Whether by serum enhanced stamina or sheer passion, Steve hard cock pressed against your belly demanding attention. He turned off the water before picking you up by the ass cheeks. Steve turned you into the opposite wall of the shower, your hot skin hitting tile. He buried his cock in your still quivering cunt, deep in one powerful push.  

You held on to his shoulders, legs wrapping around his hip as his brutal thrust slammed you into the marble. His hold left bruising fingertip marks on your ass. His cock battered into the wall of your cunt, tearing another organs from you.

He did not stop, did not allow you to come down. Skin slapped against skin, echoing. Your harsh breathes and groans pushing him on. He was going to tear you apart and you loved it. Pain danced with pleasure, making you dizzy,

He growled in your ear, teeth pulling at the lobe. “Say it.”

“Mine!” You pulled at his hair, another wave crashing into you, cunt clutch against him.

Steve teeth sank into your throat. “Say it!”

“I’m yours!”

“Yes!” He came, practically knocking the wind from you against the marble tile. Steve let go of you and you slip to the shower floor. He leaned over you and breathed in your ear. “Don’t you dare clean up. I want you to smell like me until we get home.”

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[xxpadfootxx]

Request: IzuOcha; Ochako running on a treadmill while connected to a heart monitor as part of a stress test, Ochako's heart beating faster and faster and harder and harder, causing Izuku to be concerned about her health

🐾 Past the Breaking Point  🐾

A/N: Thank you so much for your patience, sorry this took so long to finish, I’ve had a really rough week this week and haven’t had a lot of time to work on this. Either way, it’s finally done! I hope you enjoy! Thanks again for your patience and for requesting!

~~~

Ochako fought back a yawn as she followed her classmates into the gym on the U.A. campus, her eyes stinging with exhaustion and her muscles screaming for her to rest. She wanted to cave, wanted to shuffle back to her dorm room and slide back under the warm, inviting covers of her bed, but she shook the thought from her head, reminding herself to focus.

For the past several weeks after returning from summer break to enter their second year at U.A., Ochako had been pushing herself harder and harder, forcing herself to keep driving herself forward. She knew part of it was becoming unhealthy in its intensity, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop, determined to keep going.

It started when she began dating Izuku over the summer. She had been hanging out with him one day, enjoying a picnic in a flower-filled meadow when he confessed, Ochako immediately attacking him with a hug and light butterfly kisses all over his face. She loved him, had loved him for so long, that she was naturally ecstatic when he finally admitted his shared feelings for her. The pair had been inseparable, spending almost everyday together; swimming at the pool, taking strolls in the park, and watching movies until sunrise. They had even trained a little together, not wanting to lose the progress they had gained at the prestigious hero school while on break. It was then that Ochako really came to realize her obsession with matching Izuku stride for stride. He was so amazing, already climbing the ranks of the hero world and getting recognized as one of the most anticipated new hero arrivals for after he graduates, she did not want to get left behind. He had sparked something in her, something that drove her to work herself to the bone, determined to be the best of the best, rivalling even Izuku’s own enthusiasm for becoming the best hero he could possibly be.

A small nudge dragged her away from her thoughts, her tired eyes meeting the concerned gaze of the boy she loved so much. He was subtle in the hand he placed on her shoulder, his head tilted slightly to ask what was wrong. He wanted to ask her out loud, wanted to examine her body for an injury he had missed or comfort her on an issue she had not yet told him about, but he wanted to keep their interactions discreet. Their relationship was in no way secret, but unfortunately, the adorable pair always seemed to attract absurd amounts of attention from their classmates, especially the girls, whenever they publicly displayed affection to one another.

Ochako smiled reassuringly at him, raising her hand up to cover his and squeeze it comfortingly. She knew he was worried about her, but he had more important things to think about than her being a little tired, having stayed up training in her room into the early hours of the morning. Izuku noticed that her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes but he didn’t press any further as the class finally reached their destination, the students grumbling to themselves as they shuffled into the exercise rooms, not super excited at the prospect of training so early in the morning.

Izuku cast one more concerned glance at Ochako before turning his attention to Aizawa, who was passing around heart rate monitors while explaining the assignment for that day’s exercise routine. Izuku took the monitor from Aizawa with a quiet “thanks” and moved to his own treadmill, clipping on the device before plugging his desired speed into the machine. 

Ochako nodded at Aizawa after getting her own heart rate monitor and made her way to the treadmill beside Izuku, utilizing the limited spare time in their hectic schedules to spend time with her boyfriend, even if they were just exercising for a class. She shot him another smile, more genuine this time, when he glanced over at her, sending his own grin back at her. Ochako followed suit, plugging her own speed into the keypad and rolling her shoulders as she forced her sore body to prepare for another workout.

Things were going well at first, her muscles numbing a little as they got used to the pain of more running, and the exercise chasing the sleep from her system, making her feel more awake. She was breathing a little heavier than normal, but other than that she was fine, putting her earbuds in to distract herself from her tense muscles and aching lungs. It wasn’t until she looked around the room in a quick glance that things started to go downhill. She had only meant to spare Izuku a glance, secretly loving the sight of him shirtless during a workout, enjoying watching the sweat glisten on his skin as he pushed his body to the limits, his eyes bright as he worked. But then she had seen the little red number on his treadmill indicating his speed, her eyes widening a little. She glanced up at the large screen at the front of the room displaying their heart rates, her back straightening when she saw how much harder Izuku was working then she was. Glancing around the room and then back up at the screen, Ochako noticed that almost everyone else from her class was working at a similar level to Izuku, even Mineta getting the momentary strength to move faster than her, albeit complaining and panting like a dog the entire time.

Ochako gritted her teeth in annoyance at herself. She was working less than anyone in the class, her heart rate skyrocketing despite the slow speed in which she was moving. Her eyes hardened as she glared at the little red number on her treadmill, a low growl of disgust and disappointment even managing to bubble its way out of her throat. Without stopping to think about the consequences, Ochako raised her hand up to the keypad and pressed on the plus button, ignoring the sudden flare of pain in her muscles as she forced herself to go faster.

Sweat slicked her skin uncomfortably and her lungs felt like they were being ripped apart by the air inside them but she knew she had to keep going. She needed to work harder, faster, be stronger, and match Izuku in every way she could. She refused to fall behind, not when she wanted to be able to stand by him no matter what. She wanted to be there to protect him and support him as they rose through the ranks together, and she knew she couldn’t do that if she wasn’t working harder.

A soft call of her name made her look up, a pair of green eyes, bright with worry, watching her. His gaze flickered to the steadily increasing number on her treadmill to the screen above them, back to her flushed face. Something was wrong but he didn’t know what it was. Was she sick? She looked like she was, her face an angry red, her normally neat ponytail frazzled and uncombed, her body drenched in sweat, soaking her tanktop to make her light pink sports bra peek through the fabric.

Ochako forced a smile to her lips in response to his concerned call, shaking her head at his silent question. She was fine, she could handle a little workout, this should be nothing for her. She grit her teeth as anger flooded her system. Anger at her body for making this so difficult. This should be a piece of cake for her, so why was she struggling so much? Her breathing got even more shallow, making her feel light headed. Shaking her head again in an attempt to clear the feeling, Ochako lifted her now shaking fingers to the keypad to continue to amp up the speed.

At this point, she was moving faster than even Izuku, her heart pounding in her chest so hard it hurt. She didn’t even have to look up at the screen to know she was finally where she wanted to be, her aching heart and raw lungs telling her themselves. She felt a little bit of pride displace the nauseous feeling for a moment, finally feeling less pathetic as she proved to herself that her body could indeed handle this simple workout. Ochako was so focused on forcing herself to the brink that she failed to notice Izuku watching her, his eyes wide with worry as he appraised her.

He did not like how she looked right now. Izuku thought she looked as if she were about to collapse at any minute, her heart rate spiking to the point of making her profile on the screen above them flash red, a warning sign. Izuku glanced back at his girlfriend, realizing the moment he looked at her that she had no clue she was endangering herself so much, her gaze not even glancing up at the screen, fixed on the handlebars in front of her, as if it were a lifeline keeping her conscious.

“Ochako, you should probably-”

“It’s okay, Izuku, I can handle it,” Ochako cut him off, almost as if the rational side of her brain was still fighting for her to make the right decision, her irrational side convincing her to ignore everything and focus on working herself to the bone. 

Izuku had no idea why she was so determined to maintain this specific speed, but it was making alarm flash through his system. She was obviously sick, or had not slept well the night before, he knew she was strong, but there was no way her body could handle that kind of strain right now. 

Just as he was about to say something again, his mind set on convincing her to either slow down or stop entirely and make a quick trip to Recovery Girl’s office, he saw her whole body sway and freeze. He watched in horror, her body moving almost as if in slow motion, as her eyes rolled back into her head, her form falling towards the ground. 

“OCHAKO!”

Izuku did not hesitate to leap from his own treadmill, not even bothering to cut the power, and catch her before she hit the ground. His loud cry of her name made everyone turn around, their eyes widening in shock when they saw Izuku cradling her to his chest, Ochako completely unconscious.

“Come on, baby, Ochako, wake up, please! Are you okay? Please, answer me, what happened!?”

Aizawa was on his knees in front of his student in the blink of an eye, his eyes narrowed as he examined her. Izuku watched with wide eyes, his arms tightening around her subconsciously as he waited for Aizawa to speak.

“Take her to the infirmary,” Aizawa said after a moment, standing back up and instructing everyone else to continue working as Izuku bolted out the door and headed straight for the sweet old lady’s office.

When Izuku had finally made it to the infirmary, panting with exertion and sweating buckets, Recovery Girl had him lay his girlfriend in one of the empty beds to be examined before shoving him back out, claiming she’d call him in when she was finished.

Izuku couldn’t sit still. There was a bench to his left but every time he tried to sit down, his nerves made him jump right back up again, a hand running through his hair as he paced in front of the door. He just wished he knew what happened. Everything had been fine up until this morning! And sure, she had looked tired, but they were all tired, they always were when Aizawa made them wake up early for these stress tests.

Izuku didn’t know how much time passed but it felt like years before he was finally allowed into the room with her, Recovery Girl poking her head out to quietly usher him back inside. Izuku immediately made himself at home in the chair by her bedside, his hand grasping hers gently, his thumb running over her knuckles as he turned to look at her. She was still unconscious, but her breathing had finally slowed back to normal and her face had returned mostly back to it’s normal coloring.

“What happened?” Izuku asked when Recovery Girl reentered the room with some crackers and water, placing them on a tray for when she woke up.

“We will have to ask her for the specific details when she gets up, but it looks like she was overworked, to me,” Recovery Girl said.

“Overworked? But class hasn’t been any more difficult or demanding than usual,” Izuku murmured.  

“She might be doing training on her own outside of class,” Recovery Girl said, her soft eyes gazing sadly at Ochako’s inert form. “I don’t know why, but it seems as if your friend here has been working herself way past her usual limits, probably getting less sleep and eating inconsistently, which can always make matters worse.”

Izuku nodded and gently squeezed her hand. He had noticed that her laser focus on becoming a hero had definitely increased since they got back from summer break, almost tripling in intensity from their first year, but he had never noticed her working any more than the rest of their class. Although now that he thought about it,  her cheeks had been more sunken in than usual, the bags under her eyes, more prominent. Gods, why didn’t he recognize the signs? Maybe he could’ve prevented this.

A light groan pulled him from his musings and had his gaze snapping to her beautiful face, tears building in his light green hues at the sight of her shifting, trying to come back to him.

“Yeah, come on, ‘Chako, open your eyes,” Izuku murmured, brushing his lips across the back of her hand, a comfort for both her and him as she started to wake up more. Another groan filled the room as Ochako slowly blinked, her gorgeous chocolatey brown eyes widening in confusion when she saw she was in the infirmary. Surveying the room carefully, Ochako stops when she catches sight of her boyfriend, dutifully holding her hand with tears in his eyes and a watery smile on his face. She couldn’t help but smile back at the sight of him, the warmth that flooded her heart with his presence, temporarily making her forget her confusion.

“There you are, how are you feeling?” Izuku asked softly, his thumbs tracing light circles on the back of her hand.

“Like shit,” Ochako said, making the green-haired boy chuckle. “Why am I here?”

“You collapsed during training. We were using heart rate monitors on the treadmills and you just kept pushing yourself past your limits. You collapsed when your heart rate got too high and it was too much for your body to handle, so I brought you here.”

“Oh…,”

“Recovery Girl says you’ll be fine,” Izuku said, leaning over to grab the tray of crackers and water to give to her, watching as she wolfed down the food and drank the water as if she had just escaped a desert. “But she also said that she thinks you’ve been overworking yourself. Have you been doing extra training or something when the rest of us aren’t around?”

Ochako blushed when she realized she had been caught. She had known all along that she was probably pushing herself too much, her obsession overruling her normally sharp judgement, so she  had tried to keep her extra training a secret, not wanting the lectures and concern that would come with it. She didn’t need to be anyone else’s burden, didn’t want to be in the way, taking their focus away from the more important things in their lives. Clearly, that was not an option anymore, the brown-haired girl unable to find it in herself to lie to Izuku.

“...Yeah…,” Ochako muttered, glancing away from him.

“Why?” Izuku asked, gently turning her head to face him by lightly gripping her chin, his thumb tracing her bottom lip until she opened them to answer him.

“Because I don’t want to fall behind you, Izuku,” Ochako mumurmed, a pretty blush stealing across her face. “You’re so amazing and wonderful and talented, I didn’t want to be left in the dust. I want to stand by your side and protect you, support you, love you. I don’t want to settle for just any hero agency anymore. I don’t want to find the first job and go from there. My goal will always be to get my parents more money to live a happier life, it’s just, now I’ve become more focused on choosing a job I actually want rather than settling for the first job to give me a check.”

Ochako couldn’t help the small giggle that bubbled out of her throat at the sight of her boyfriend’s dumbfounded expression at her remark, her eyes softening when she looked at him. Reaching up, Ochako cupped Izuku’s cheek, her cheeks warming when he nuzzled into her touch and put his own hand over hers.

“I love you, and I want to be by your side. I know it wasn’t a good thing for my body and my health, but if it means getting to fight alongside you, protect you, then it's worth it.”

A few more tears slipped from Izuku’s eyes as he closed them with a deep sigh.

“Gods Ochako, what are you saying? You are the strongest person I know, you don’t need to kill yourself over this to stand by me. In fact, I need to catch up to you, not the other way around. You are so beautiful and loving and one of the best heroes I’ve ever seen in my life, and you’re only a second year! Please, don’t tear yourself apart because of me, I can’t stand to see you hurt like that, I felt so scared when you suddenly keeled over during our workout, it took Aizawa snapping me out of it to bring you here.”

Ochako looked at him with an awed expression on her face, a few tears of her own surfacing to prick at the corners of her eyes. She had no idea how the hell she managed to get a boy as perfect as this one in her life, but she cherished him. Hearing him compliment her like that made her feel like she was floating, even without the use of her quirk.

“Thank you, Izuku,” Ochako sighed, closing her eyes when Izuku leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips.

“It’s nothing, really. I am your friend and b-boyfriend, it is my job to protect and take care of you. Just maybe don’t try to scare me so much next time, I think my own heart rate spiked so much I must have broken some kind of world record.”

Ochako giggled at him and apologized, her smile widening when he waved away her thanks and apologies, standing from his chair and motioning for her to move over. Ochako’s eyebrow raised but Izuku didn’t reveal anything as she quietly complied. Quickly taking advantage of the extra room, even on the relatively small hospital bed, Izuku slid beneath the covers beside her and wrapped his arm protectively around her waist, pulling her into his chest.

“Rest,” He said, stroking her hair lovingly.

Ochako turned in his hold to face him, her eyes sparkling and her smile wide before it was broken up by a big yawn. Feeling drowsy and finally able to act on it, Ochako succumbed to her fatigue and curled into Izuku, her face burying into his neck as he continued to pet her hair, his chin resting on the top of her head. She couldn’t see the wildly silly grin on Izuku’s face as she fell asleep against him, but she could feel his quick heartbeat thrumming in time to hers, his love for her pulsing through her system with every loud heartbeat against her ear.

[bioloominescence]

dick getting sick or something and not saying anything until wally finds him hurt ? i’m always a sucker for the angst

TW: Disturbing scenes, angst, mature language.

[I had a lot of fun with this, even if it’s a little different than you probably expected. Enjoy!]

Wally had just been getting himself a huge double-decker sandwich for a quick dinner before training, when his phone buzzed on the counter. He made a noise and flipped it over with his not-mayo-covered fingers, squinting at the screen. He swiped the screen, answering the call and putting it on speaker as he continued to make his dinner. 

“Dickie-boy, what’s up, my dude?” he called, grinning as he stuck the last piece of bread on top and pressed it down slightly. 

“I did something stupid. Bats is off-world with Green Lantern, and I didn’t want to wait for back-up. How fast can you get your ass to Gotham?” Dick breathed into the phone, tone hushed. Wally paused, tongue stuck out between his lips, staring at his phone. 

“What did you do?” Wally demanded, jaw flexing. It wasn’t like Robin to go rushing off without back-up. Something was up. 

There was silence on the other end, then a sharp inhale. “I’ll send you my coordinates,” Dick hissed, and then he hung up, leaving Wally glancing between his phone and his sandwich. 

He sighed deeply and put his phone in his pocket. “I’ll be home soon to finish you off, my love,” he whispered to the sandwich before he zipped upstairs and came back down in his suit, and heading straight for the nearest Zeta tube. 

Wally arrived in Gotham in record time and followed the coordinates that Robin had sent to him. It was a warehouse in a darker part of town, and it gave Wally the creeps. There was a reason the Flash squad kept their asses out of Gotham. It was like a whole different world of villainy. Wally just hoped it wasn’t the Joker. He hoped his friend was smart enough to avoid the Joker without proper backup. League level backup. 

Wally zipped in through the partially opened door, staring into the darkness and moving slowly. It was so quiet. Wally was starting to wonder if he had the wrong coordinates. 

Then there was a familiar yell, and a deep pitched laugh. Wally ran towards the noise, racing into one of the boiler rooms. Wally realized as he came around the side of one of the huge boilers that Scarecrow was here, and Richard was unconscious. 

Wally froze for a moment, until he could see his friend was breathing. Then his gaze snapped to Scarecrow. “What did you do to him?!” He bellowed, his hands clenching into fists. He tensed, ready to run at Scarecrow with fists flying. 

“Ah-ah, Mini Flash,” Scarecrow purred voice strange and distorted through his mask. “I was really hoping Batman would show up… it’s no fun to play with the speedy ones.” 

Wally took a step back, hesitating. He looked down at Robin and swallowed. He looked okay, but Wally was well aware of the weapon of choice of Scarecrow. 

“Though… Maybe I can play with you,” came the distorted voice, edged with a sick smirk. He moved, crouching down to grasp Robin’s face in a hand, fingers pinching his cheeks tightly. 

“Hey! You going to get to the point, sack-face?” Wally gibed, sneering. He wanted so badly to close the six or so feet between them and punch Scarecrow straight in the face. He could do it so easily. But Scarecrow wasn’t a villain for one person to take down, and especially not–as much as he hated to admit it–a sidekick. 

Scarecrow tilted his head, sharp and animal-like, and Wally shut his mouth quickly. Scarecrow let go of Robin’s head, and instead gave him a hard slap, the noise echoing around the room. Wally took another step, but Scarecrow brandished his hand at Wally, threatening to release his toxin. “Not another step,” Scarecrow hissed. Between them, Robin groaned, moving his head slightly as he slowly came-to. 

“I’ve hidden the antidote somewhere in one of the warehouses nearby. I’m sure you’ll have a fun time trying to get him to it!” Scarecrow hissed, taking quicker and quicker steps away until he was faded into the shadows. 

Wally didn’t even care that the villain escaped. This was not his city, and Dick was his priority. He sped to his side, falling to his knees beside Robin, and reaching out to help him sit up. Robin groaned, touching his cheek and the side of his head, blinking behind his mask. 

"Rob, are you okay?” Wally asked, putting a hand on Dick’s arm. 

Dick pulled away instinctively, blinking at Wally. Only it wasn’t Wally. Dick scrambled away from him, breath coming quicker. 

“No! Don’t touch me!” He cried, finding his legs to be pretty much Jell-O, but he struggled to stand anyway. 

Wally blinked and followed Dick as he moved away, confused. “Rob, it’s me. Kid Flash. What are you doing?” He reached out again, but Dick dodged it and instead aimed a weak kick for Wally’s middle. Wally just barely dodged, feeling the pressure of it and moving away in shock. 

“Don’t come near me! You’re supposed to be dead!” Robin spat, turning and hoofing it as fast as his legs could carry him toward the door. 

Wally cursed under his breath. The fear toxin must mean Robin was seeing someone else instead of Wally. Getting him that antidote was gonna be harder than he thought if Robin tried to run away. 

Wally zoomed around in front of him and Robin jerked to a stop, full-on panicking now. He was trembling with fear, and his hair was sticking to his forehead as he turned to run away. 

Wally caught his arm tightly, and Robin turned, aiming a harder kick for Wally’s knee. Wally didn’t have time to move, and cried out in pain, releasing his friend’s arm and doubling over. He needed his knees. He liked his knees. 

“Little shit,” he growled and raced after him again, this time grabbing Robin and twisting his arm behind his back. If this wasn’t his best friend, he’d have no qualms about knocking him out. But it was Dick. He couldn’t do that. 

Robin twisted and gasped in the hold, trying to find the weakness in Kid Flash’s hold, but it was strong. He sagged against it, pretending to give in. He still trembled, and his heart still hammered in his chest. And when his captor relaxed, Robin twisted around and socked him in the face. “Leave me alone, or I’ll kill you!” He yelled, panting and stumbling away.

Wally hadn’t been expecting the right hook. He stumbled back, holding his nose. Broken? He didn’t think so. Definitely bleeding though. He swallowed his hurt feelings, trying to keep in mind that this was a very fearful little Robin and that Wally was, admittedly, the aggressor. He was going to have to stop going easy on Dick if he wanted to get him the antidote. 

“You wouldn’t kill me! You’re the Golden Boy! You don’t kill people,” Wally called, attempting to bait him. It seemed to work for a moment, and Robin stopped. Wally smirked and was about to follow after him when there was a sharp pain in his arm. A metal batarang stuck out of his bicep, one wing completely buried in the muscle. 

Wally gaped, then clenched his teeth and looked toward his friend in shock. Robin didn’t even give him a victorious smirk, he just turned and raced for the exit. Wally reached up and pulled the batarang from his shoulder with a cry of pure pain, tossing it aside. Blood spilled over the yellow fabric of his suit and Wally groaned. “You are so going to get a talking to when you get your sane little mind back!” He shouted, racing out the door and trying to ignore the sharp pain in his shoulder. 

Robin hadn’t gotten too far, and it was clear to Wally that he wasn’t thinking straight because instead of hiding, Robin was running. Scaling a building, but still. Wally was faster. He ran up the side of the building and grabbed Robin around his middle, running back down with him. It took a few seconds for Dick to seemingly realize what was happening and he started to struggle, hard. 

“Ouch!” Wally gasped, trying to keep his head away from the other as Robin had tried to wriggle free to no avail, and had settled for ripping at Wally’s hair and shoving at his face. “You know I’m the one who does the hair pulling, not you!” He snapped, unceremoniously tossing Robin over his shoulder in a fireman hold. 

“Put me down!” Robin shouted as Wally broke into a faster run, managing to check a few rooms in the warehouse they were in, despite how Robin was shoving and kicking and yelling in his ear. He could feel the boy’s heart hammering, and how hot he was. Wally knew he only had so long before Robin’s body would shut down, the toxin literally scaring him to death.

Of course, the antidote wasn’t in the same warehouse, and Wally couldn’t handle Robin anymore. Wally skidded to a stop and tossed Robin off of him, glaring down at him as Robin grunted and rolled to a stop. Maybe… maybe Wally should have been a little more gentle, but the throbbing pain in his back and the side of his face made him disregard that entirely. 

“I am trying to help you!” he shouted, pointing a finger at the acrobat as he struggled to sit up. 

“Like hell you are… You’re just like every other asshole out there. You’re going to pay for everything you’ve done, Zucco!” Robin shouted back, voice trembling. Wally paused at that, crossing his arms. Zucco, like Tony Zucco? Like the man who killed Dick’s parents? He tilted his head, then sighed. 

“Alright. Looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” Wally muttered, zooming very quickly through the building and returning with a section of rope. The moment Robin saw it, he grabbed into his utility belt and flicked a batarang in Wally’s direction, then tossed one of his tiny gas capsules between them. 

“Robin!” Wally exploded, covering his mouth with a hand as he ran through the cloud to find the little raven-haired shit had escaped again. Wally let out a yell of frustration and tore after him. 

It took Wally several minutes to find Robin, but his fearful panting was easily detected despite the fact that he’d attempted to hide that time. Wally snuck up on him, then completely and utterly threw himself at Robin, tackling the shorter boy into the mud outside. They struggled, grunting and growling and panting as they struggled for power over one another, but Wally eventually gained the upper hand by completely pressing his weight into Robin and tying his hands together in a quick, deft knot. Wally was drenched in sweat, and smeared with blood and mud, as was Robin. 

“I’m going to bring you inside, and you’re going to fucking stay there, you hear me?” Wally yelled, leaning down over Dick. He was frustrated beyond belief, and scared he was going to lose his best friend all because the boy was terrified of him, too terrified to see that it was Wally and he was trying to help. “I am getting you the antidote, so you don’t fucking die.”

Wally dragged a squirming, but fairly tired out Robin back into the building, where he tossed him into a supply closet that he made sure had no vent for Robin to try and squeeze through, and made sure to jam the door, hoping it would be enough. Robin did look pretty exhausted after their struggle, and from the way he’d looked at Wally with animalistic fear, he figured he might just stay put. 

Wally raced off, searching through the buildings as quickly as he could. A strong rumble in his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten. He had bars, but no time to stop for a snack. He had to worry about Richard first. 

Finally, he found the antidote. It wasn’t in an easy spot, either. It was precariously placed amongst the building’s rafters, so Kid Flash had to carefully run across them and snatch it up. It seemed to be going fine until he missed a rung and slipped, catching himself and yelling with effort as he pulled himself up and made his way more carefully down and out of the building.��

He returned to find that Robin hadn’t broken out of the room, thankfully, yet upon kicking the door open, he found that was because Robin was out cold, sweat drenching his hair. Wally gasped and rushed to his side, shakily uncapping the syringe and sticking it into Robin’s thigh. The pained, pinched look on Dick’s face slowly receded and Wally slumped forward, pressing his face into his friend’s chest. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, but the ginger jerked back slightly when he felt fingers in his hair. He lifted his teary gaze to find Dick was awake, and had just the tiniest smile on his lips, barely noticeable. 

Wally hesitated a moment, desperate to lean into the affection, but too angry to let himself give in to his heart. He pulled away, and Robin’s hand slipped down onto his chest where Wally’s head had been. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Wally breathed, brows pinching together. Tears still welled in his eyes. He watched the corners of Dick’s mouth falter, then lower into a frown. 

“I–” 

“No. Don’t. I’m not done,” Wally cut him off, sitting back on his heels. “You were an absolute idiot, you know that?” 

“Wally, I-”

“You could have called the League or the Team, but instead you called me, and I almost couldn’t fucking save you.” Wally spat, reaching up to pull off his goggles and stare down at his friend angrily. 

“You almost done?”

“No!” Wally retorted. “I’m so angry at you. So angry. I’m considering honestly pummeling you to smithereens,” Wally shook his head, nearly tearing at his own hair. 

“You done?” Dick quipped, pushing himself onto his elbows. Wally still glared, but nodded. “Yes? Good. Help me up.”

Wally grumbled, but stood and pulled Dick to his feet. Dick attempted for a moment to brush the mud from his suit, then gave up with a sigh. “You realize I don’t actually have to answer to you, right?” 

Wally crossed his arms, frowning at his friend. “Oh, and you’d rather explain to Aqualad, then?” he muttered. Dick gave him an annoyed look, then looked to the side. 

“Batman and I got into it before he left. He doesn’t trust me to defend Gotham by myself–”

“–For good reason, clearly,” Wally interrupted, earning him a solid punch in his already injured arm. He yelled in pain. “Hey! Not cool!”

“Then shut up and listen!” Robin growled. “So I thought I would prove it to him when our scanner picked up the call about Scarecrow being here. I guess I was… Distracted. Unprepared.” He looked to the side, his expression closed off and angry. 

Wally paused, watching him. He knew Dick better than anyone, and he could tell there was more to it than just that. But he also knew when to not push a topic. Wally was always there to listen, but some things, Dick preferred to work through on his own. 

“You know, being part of a team means that we don’t just go blazing into danger by ourselves,” Wally reminded him, his tone a bit more gentle than he’d used all evening. “After all, stupid ideas are my thing, man. You can’t go stealing my M.O.” 

The joke seemed to calm the tension at least enough for Robin to look down, hiding his little smirk. He sighed and looked up at Wally. “Yeah, but I called you because you’re the one I trust the most to save my life.” 

Wally couldn’t help the dopey smile that spread across his lips. He rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. “You’re a total dork, you know that?” 

“Pssh. No. You’re the dork, dork. I’m the Golden Boy, remember?” 

Wally grinned and slung his good arm around Robin’s middle. He buried his nose in Robin’s damp hair. He was exhausted now that the fear of losing Robin was gone. “Yeah. I remember, ‘cause you threatened to kill me. You gonna apologize for that? And for the multiple flesh wounds?” 

They’d still have to tell the League what happened, and that Scarecrow got away. But for now, the two exhausted boys were just going to head for the nearest Zeta tube and go get patched up at Mount Justice. 

Dick gave him a lazy grin and let Wally led him slowly out of the room.  “Maybe. So long as you make it up to me for tossing me like a sack of potatoes.” 

“Mhmm. You’re one lethal sack of potatoes, babe.” 

[claudia1829things]

"BLEAK HOUSE" (2005) Review

"BLEAK HOUSE" (2005) Review Previously, I have confessed to not being much of a fan of Victorian novelist Charles Dickens. And if I must be brutally honest, that confession still stands. I have only seen at least five adaptations of his novels - two movies and three television miniseries. Out of the five productions, I tend to be more tolerable of the three television productions. And one of them is the 2005 miniseries, "BLEAK HOUSE", the third adaptation of Dickens' 1852-53 novel.

"BLEAK HOUSE" has several subplots . . . typical Dickens. But all of them are somehow connected to one plot that centers around a long-running legal case called Jarndyce v Jarndyce, which came about due to conflicting wills. One of the potential beneficiaries under the case is landowner named John Jarndyce, who is designated the legal guardian of two wards, Ada Clare and Richard Carstone, who are also potential beneficiaries. He also becomes the guardian of a third ward, an orphan named Esther Summerson, whom he hires as housekeeper for his estate and Ada's companion. Unbeknownst to everyone, Esther is the illegal daughter of a former Army officer and drug addict named Captain James Hawdon aka "Nemo", who makes his living as a copyist for law firms; and Lady Honoria Dedlock, the wife of baronet Sir Leicester Deadlock. As it turns out, Lady Deadlock is also a potential beneficiary of the Jarndyce and Jarndyce case. When she and Sir Leicester are informed of the court's decision regarding the three wards by the latter's solicitor, Mr. Tulkinghorn, Lady Deadlock visibly reacts to the handwriting on an affidavit. Mr. Tulkinghorn notices and sets out to investigate the identity of the affidavit's copyist, in the hopes of financially benefiting from Lady Deadlock's past. He also recruits the help of Lady Deadlock's maid Mademoiselle Hortense, his associate Mr. Clamb, a greedy moneylender named Mr. Smallweed and the unintentional assistance of a young man named Mr. Guppy, who works as a legal associate for John Jarndyce's solicitor, Mr. Kenge. I also enjoyed two other Dickens productions to a certain degree - the 1998 miniseries, "OUR MUTUAL FRIEND", and the 2008 miniseries, "LITTLE DORRIT". But if I must be honest, I found the narratives for both productions a bit hard to follow, due to the slightly chaotic nature of the source materials. "BLEAK HOUSE" turned out to be a different kettle of fish. Like the other two productions, it possessed a good number of subplots. In a way, it reminded me of "LITTLE DORRIT", as it focused on the mindless and useless confusion of the chancery. But what I really admiIt was probably due to all of the subplots' connections to the Jarndyce and Jarndyce case. Or it could be that Dickens had simply created a main narrative that I found easier to follow. Just about every subplot either connected directly or indirectly to the Jarndyce and Jarndyce case. A good example of a subplot that connected directly to the story's main theme would be Richard Carstone's blatant attempt to pursue a ruling on the case that would favor him and his fiancée/wife, Ada Clare, who also happened to be a potential beneficiary. And excellent example of the narrative's indirect connection to the Jarndyce case proved to be the subplot involving Lady Deadlock (another beneficiary), her illegitimate daughter Esther Summerson and her husband's solicitor, Mr. Tulkinghorn. In fact, this particular subplot proved to have the biggest impact upon Dickens' narrative. I thought it was certainly the most interesting. It also helped that the story's leading woman character, Esther Summerson, did not prove to be another one of Dickens' "angels in the house" types. Yes, Esther was a warm and decent woman whom most of the characters liked. But she was also a woman who remained traumatized by her status as an illegitimate child and the emotional abuse she had endured from a self-righteous and highly religious woman she believed to be her godmother, but who turned out to be her aunt. Because of her abusive past, Esther suffered from a lack of esteem. I must admit that I am only familiar with at least four Dickens novels. Because of this, Esther proved to be the first Dickens leading lady who was portrayed with such complexity. In regard to characterization, my only disappointment with "BLEAK HOUSE" proved to be the story's antagonists. As I had earlier pointed out, I am only familiar with four of Dickens' novels. For a man who had no problems with pointing out the evils of modern 19th century society, he seemed very reluctant in creating villains who are from the social elite. His villains are either lower or middle-class . . . or they are foreigners. The closet Dickens came to a well-born antagonist in "BLEAK HOUSE" was the selfish and amoral sponger Harold Skimpole. However, in compare to Sir Leicester Deadlock's middle-class solicitor, Mr. Tulkinghorn, and Lady Deadlock's French-born maid, Madame Hortense; Skimpole is, at best, a minor comic villain. I have few other complaints about "BLEAK HOUSE". One complaint I have about the production was Kieran McGuigan's cinematography. I had no problem with the production's exterior shots. Since the miniseries was shot in High Definition Television format, McGuigan's photography in the exterior shots captured all of the details of the set designs, props, the performers' costumes and make-up. However, I could barely see anything in those shots set at night time and especially many of the interior shots. There were times when I felt I was merely looking at a dark screen. And I must admit that I found some of McGuigan's camera angles rather disconcerting and there were times when I found it difficult to ascertain what was going on in a particular scene. Jason Krasucki and Paul Knight's editing did not help. Both men had utilized an editing method that I found irritating. Whenever the miniseries moved from one scene to another, the two film editors utilized a fast shift that I found unnecessary and tonally off-putting. Perhaps producer Stafford-Clark had hoped that the fast shifts between scenes and the odd camera angles would make "BLEAK HOUSE" look modern. Honestly, I found these aspects of the production tonally off and unnecessary. I have one last complaint. I never understood why Stafford-Clark and the BBC felt it was necessary to present the miniseries, with the exception of the first one, in half-hour episodes. Others had complained, as well. The response to this criticism was that Dickens' long and complex novel required the fifteen installments in which it was presented. But honestly . . . the BBC could have presented the miniseries in eight hour-long episodes. Why was that so hard to consider? Every time an episode ended after 27-to-30 minutes, I felt a sense of frustration. And there were times when I found myself trying to remember which episode out of the fifteen installments I had to choose to continue. Unfortunately, the BBC went on to utilize the same format for its 2008 miniseries, "LITTLE DORRIT". Aside from those complaints, I really did enjoy "BLEAK HOUSE". For me, the heart and soul of the production proved to the array of characters and the fabulous actors and actresses who portrayed them. "BLEAK HOUSE" featured first-rate performances from the likes of Timothy West, Alun Armstrong, Richard Harrington, John Lynch, Sheila Hancock, Tom Georgeson, Anne Reid, Richard Griffiths, Joanna David, Catherine Tate, Louise Brealey, Harry Eden and especially Ian Richardson, whom I found particularly entertaining as the kindly, yet witty Chancellor. I also enjoyed those performances from Warren Clarke, who gave a broadly entertaining performance as Mr. Boythorn, an old friend of John Jarndyce; Hugo Speer, the proud and struggling former Army sergeant and former friend/subordinate of Captain Hawdon; Pauline Collins, who struck me as particularly poignant in her role as the warm-hearted, yet long-suffering Miss Flite; Lilo Baur as the ambitious and vindictive foreign-born lady's maid, Madame Hortense; and especially Phil Davis, whose colorful portrayal of the mean-tempered and greedy moneylender, Mr. Smallweed, made evil look so entertaining with his caustic remarks and now famous catchphrase: "Shake me up, Judy! Shake me up!" Nathaniel Parker gave a particularly memorable performance as the manipulative, yet self-absorbed sponger, Harold Skimpole. A part of me remains amazed that John Jarndyce had regarded him as a friend for so long. Carey Mulligan gave a warm, yet interesting performance as one of Mr. Jarndyce's wards, Ada Clare. What made the actress's performance interesting to me was her ability to convey not only Ada's positive traits, but the character's unrelenting blindness to her love's flaws. Speaking of Ada's love, Patrick Kennedy was excellent as Mr. Jarndyce's other ward - the charming, yet undependable Richard Carstone. I must admit that Richard proved to be one a rather pathetic personality, who was always chasing a path toward quick riches, whether it was by jumping from one profession to another or putting all of his hopes on the Jarndyce v Jarndyce case. Burn Gorman was a hoot as the friendly, yet ambitious and clever law clerk, William Guppy, who became enamored of Esther Summerson and who figured out the connection between her and Lady Deadlock. As much as I liked him and Gorman's performance, I could not help but suspect that Guppy's idea of love was somewhat shallow In my personal opinion, there were four performances in "BLEAK HOUSE" that reigned supreme. Those four performances came from Anna Maxwell-Martin, Gillian Anderson, Denis Lawson and Charles Dance. Now, I would not regard the character of Josiah Tulkinghorn as subtle or even two-dimensional. But thanks to Charles Dance's subtle and malevolent portrayal, which earned him an Emmy nominatino, audiences were privy to Mr. Tulkinghorn's talent for manipulation and coercion. Denis Lawson earned an Emmy nomination for his portrayal of John Jarndyce, the kind-hearted landowner who took in Esther, Richard and Ada. Lawson did an excellent job in balancing Mr. Jarndyce's wise counseling of the three young people, willful blindness to Mr. Skimpole's machinations and subtle selfish desire for Esther's hand in marriage. Gillian Anderson earned both an Emmy and a British Academy Television Awards nominations for her portrayal of the story's femme fatale, so to speak - Lady Honoria Dedlock. The American-born Anderson did a superb job in conveying her character's complex and mysterious personality. Superficially, the Esther Summerson character seemed like another one of Dickens' "angels in the house". Thanks to the author's pen and Anna Maxwell-Martin's superb performance, Esther proved to be a warm, yet troubled young woman struggling to find a place for herself in the world and overcome her past trauma at the hands of an emotionally abusive guardian. Not only was Maxwell-Martin received a well-deserved nomination from the British Academy Television Awards, she also won. No movie or television production is perfect. I had some problem with the miniseries' editing, camera angles, and television format for "BLEAK HOUSE". But aside from these quibbles, I can honestly say that I truly enjoy this adaptation of Charles Dickens' 1852-53 novel. It is one of the few Dickens' stories that do not seemed marred by too many subplots that are unrelated. And I believe that screenwriter Andrew Davies, directors Justin Chadwick and Susanna White, along with a superb cast led by Anna Maxwell-Martin truly did justice to the novel.

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

A Study In Eye-fucking

PROMPT:

So I have this hc that when dean and cas are doing their whole staring-at-each-other-for-far-too-long thing, that cas is actually communicating with dean telepathically. He only does this with dean, and dean secretly likes that it’s their own special thing so doesn’t tell Sam. But when everyone else thinks they’re having eye-sex, they’re actually having their own private conversations. Feel free to write about this or not-no pressure either way❤️

HI, and first of all, I absolutely loved @xcaitlin-mayx 's headcannon, and was completely swept off my feet thinking of what direction I wanted to take ~ but then, uh, Life approached and I was thrown off my track. So, uh, I’m truly sorry for the really late answer ~ but I finally wrote something, and I really hope this is kind of what you had in mind, friend!

Edit: Posting this fic was a real task, because this is the third try, and it's finally ready. I'm sorry for the delay. And we need to thank the asker and @zoerayne2426 for their help in getting it here, after I lost it yesternight! Fic starts here:

***

Dean Winchester was pretty goddamn sure that he, Sam and Cas together were the best damn hunters in the World.

But not every hunt defines you as a hunter. Some days, you take out an entire coven of witches within a couple of days, or hunt down a century-old god, who had recently taken to being a dick.

Other days, a single vampire nest could take a long and tiring week, and you could still end up handcuffed to rusted barrels in an abandoned barn with your angel, trying to stall them from drinking you dead until your brother could figure out where the both of you were kidnapped to, and save the day.

“We aren’t giving Dean Winchester up in exchange for you, blue-eyes.” The apparent leader tossed her head, her attention completely taken by Cas. “Everybody knows you can’t sucking off an angel isn’t fun, right, gorgeous?” She added, in Dean’s general direction, making him want to knock her out even more than he already did.

If she wanted to make an innuendo, she didn’t even do that right.

“But that way, you’d at least have one of us.” Castiel reasoned, but Dean recognized his voice as insincere. At least he hoped. The plan was to waste time. Not give themselves over to dumb, evil bitches.

“What do you mean, right now, we have both of you?” She threw back.

“Not for long.” Dean spat, from his position on the ground. His hands were tied behind him, and he was unable to look up straight without the shooting pain at the back of his neck.

“If this is about Winchester XL, lemme just say, that he’s not coming to save you anytime soon.” She smirked.

Dean saw red, instantly. “Listen here, you -”

“Come on, Ken, you stay here with these two. I’m going to go take a look at the others,” She commanded, and the guy walked over in Cas’s general region, the proximity uncomfortable, as he waited wordlessly with his eyes on Dean, and his hand on the iron pole to which Castiel was tied - they had angel cuffs tying his wrists to chains and their bulkiest vampire assigned to the task, while Dean had been simply punched until he was rendered the equivalent of a sack of swearing potatoes and cuffed on the stone cold floor. It wasn’t exactly fair.

Moreover, the new guy didn’t look like he’d take any of their shit if they tried to negotiate him into a get-out-of-jail-alive card, and who was content enough to be a breathing stone pillar as he was told to be.

Oh, curse God for villains who didn’t monologue or had ambitions.

Listen!

A voice suddenly hissed at him, though he couldn’t hear it, and he raised his head harshly enough to get whiplash. He let it fall once more.

What was Dean’s conscience trying to tell him, right now? (Don't get caught by demons the next time, or you end up with a helluva crick in your neck?)

Dean!

The voice in Dean’s head usually used less flattering curse words for him. It didn’t call him Dean.

We can get out of here! Dean! Can you hear me?

Wait a fucking minute, this sounded like Cas.

And not in the my-family-is-my-voice-of-reason sense. Not even in the angel-on-my-shoulder sense.

Dean could, honest to god, hear Castiel’s voice in his head. It was not quite Jimmy’s voice though, it was all in all Cas! How Dean could tell them apart, he had no speck of an idea.

But - how?

You can hear me, can’t you?

Dean painstakingly raised his head to meet the angel’s eyes. Ken, or whatever his name was, wasn’t looking at Dean anymore, he was looking at Cas. Cas, on the other hand, had his eyes focused on Dean for sure.

Dean nodded, in response to the question from before.

Is it really you? He thought real hard, and saw Cas wince a little bit.

You don’t need to shout! We’ve already established that the connection is stable. And of course, it IS me.

Dean could feel his head whirring towards a more paranoid headache.

What connection, what the fuck is even happening? How are you doing this? He breathed.

Cas gave him a glare, that looked awfully like, that’s not a priority, though Dean didn’t hear it ring through his brain.

Dean. Listen to me. When these vampires were disarming me, I made sure to push my angel blade away. It’s got to be somewhere near you. You need to get it.

Dean instantly began to fumble around, clumsily. The vamp in the room turned sharply to him.

“Just an itch.” Dean excused, before going very still. This time, his eyes didn’t leave Dean. He still held onto Castiel’s iron chains.

Dean looked down at himself, to avoid eye contact. Are you sure it’s somewhere behind me?

There was no response.

No voices at all.

Dean looked up again, and suddenly Cas’s voice came in again. You need to keep looking into my eyes.

An involuntary heat rushed up Dean’s throat. He suddenly paid an extraordinary amount of attention to the blue, blue eyes of his friend. Castiel went on. I’m not an archangel, only they can communicate without it.

Dean swallowed, and forced a smile at the big lug who still glared at Dean, before he met Castiel’s eyes again. He was careful to not be expressive. Cas had it easy, he rarely looked like he meant something he said, or thought. He repeated himself. Are you sure it’s behind me?

No. Followed by a distinct, But you need to look. It's our only chance.

Dean almost nodded but remembered that the vampire still had his eyes on him, so stressed out an Okay.

Don’t scream your affirmations in my head, please. Castiel deadpanned, even his voice adorning a very Cas-like tone. Dean felt the twitch of a smile.

He began to look, much more subtle this time.

I’ve got it. He thought softly, before realizing he didn’t need to whisper in this - whatever the hell this kind of communication network was.

Use it.

Castiel didn’t even have to think it at him, his eyes did the job. A single touch of the blade to the ropes had them loosening. Hopefully not melting, though, but Dean couldn’t turn his head to see. Angel blades were apparently multi-utility tools.

Once the ropes were severed, it was Dean Winchester’s turn to shine. Ken got an elbow in the face, and a kick in the shin before Dean began to cut off Castiel’s chains, and when Ken showed up again and had Dean in a surprise headlock - what an ideal villain - Dean stabbed him with the blade, and deftly cut his throat off.

The tale of how the hunter and his angel, freshly freed and armed, got from there to the motel room, was one which has been told several times.

***

Sam was very much asleep when Dean and Castiel had time to talk, Castiel had healed him but he had bled out a lot, and Dean’s insistence that he take some rest, had resulted in sam beginning to use his laptop whilst on his bed - and soon slumping off to sleep, with it’s screen still lit.

Dean later shut down the computer, while Castiel pulled the sheets over his legs.

Being a hunter had very few perks, but it had several drawbacks, such as having to go out of the small room to have a serious conversation - lest you risk waking up your brother who, as all hunters, was prone to light sleep.

Dean almost pulled Castiel outside, and deciding that talking outside the door would be ridiculous, so they walked all the way outside the motel. Dean leaned against the impala, and Castiel stood straight and watched him.

At the moment, it had been easy enough to get over the realization, that he and castiel were communicating through thoughts. There was pain, and there was danger - and there was the factor of time.

Now under the starlit sky, it was just Dean and Cas, and like hell, there weren’t questions.

“Okay,” he breathed out. “What the hell was that, back in the barn? With the-” His eyes were wide with shock, when he met Castiel’s again. “With the goddamn mind reading, Cas!”

“I..” Castiel didn’t sound as sure as Dean would’ve assumed he was going to. “I just tried something. And it worked.”

“What did you try?” Dean pursed his lips.

“To see if I could tell you something,” Castiel was still uncertain how he would explain something like this to Dean. “Without saying it aloud.”

“Yeah, well, your dick-ish brothers and sisters have gotten into my head often enough,” Dean snapped. “This was different. I was in control too! I could send things back that route through!”

“I agree,” Cas nodded. “It was like a telepathic connection.”

“I’m not.. Psychic or whatever, Cas! I can’t do this shit, eye contact or not!” Dean recalled.

“Dean.” Castiel sounded more firm. “It was a moment of distress. Those vampires would’ve turned you, and found the blade soon enough to kill me too. And I felt like - there was something I could do.”

“Just like that?” Dean was quieter.

“It was like a string, within reachable distance, and I strained my grace to get to it. And I could pull it. So I did, and..and you picked it up then, by looking into my eyes.” It was as if Castiel was explaining it to himself too, not just to Dean.

“I don’t know how I ‘picked’ anything up.” Dean wondered aloud. Helpless. “I don’t it know how it worked, at all-”

“Dean” Castiel suddenly walked towards him. There was only a foot of distance between their chests, and Castiel blinked clearly at him. “Look at me.”

Dean hesitantly raised his eyes from the ground, and felt them flicker all over Cas’s features. He was embarrassed, because Cas may be dense in general, but anyone would understand if a dude’s eyes kept flitting back to your lips, right? Rigidly, Dean made himself focus on Cas’s eyes. They were ocean blue in the sun, but tinted with the grey of the late evening right now. It was certainly not the first time Dean noticed the angel’s eyes. “I am.”

“Would you… could you really look into my eyes?” Castiel asked, he sounded so sincere, that Dean didn’t have it in himself to make a lewd joke.

He simply obeyed, letting himself drown in the black pupils, not letting his sight wander past the beautiful hues of the iris, or-

Dean!

Dean blinked suddenly, and Castiel clasped his bicep with his right hand, to make him focus. His eyes sought all of Dean's attention.

Dean?

So now, this is apparently a thing. Dean thought, and somehow it was enough. We’re telepathy buddies, who think into each other’s heads.

For a long moment, Cas simply looked into his eyes. But Dean didn’t hear anything from him. There was a pleasant silence of all of Cas’s attention on him.

It was when Dean began to wonder if the connection had broke, or if Dean was suddenly incapable of hearing Cas’s thoughts anymore, that a small, mellow voice he hardly recognized as Cas came floating through the front of his brain.

It was unsure, and almost a little timid. Maybe even sad. It wasn't what Dean expected.

Is this so bad?

Of course it wasn’t, who was he kidding? But Cas’s face had crumbled into an apologetic look, though his eyes stayed focused on Dean’s- and Dean understood that not everything he thought was audible to Cas. It was - it was perfectly under his control too!

However, that meant that Cas believed that Dean hated this- except the truth was far from it. It was unbelievable, yes; but this was Cas. It wasn’t - it couldn’t be… bad. Dean suddenly wondered how much of his thoughts were audible to Cas, not quite having a good hold on it yet.

I never said that. Dean swallowed, as if testing waters. It’s weird, not gonna lie, but it isn't exhausting, and it could be helpful. And okay, maybe it could be fun-ishh too.  

Castiel smiled a bit, and his eyes suddenly seemed to light up literally, and a wave floated through the ‘string’ apparently, uplifting Dean’s spirits too. He smiled too, realizing that he’d never seen Cas smile, this real and beautiful, up close.

And then he suddenly stopped smiling, realizing that he’d never seen Cas smile, this real and beautiful, this up close, and that had just made him smile.

Whoa, Winchester - bring it down a notch. He looked away, almost on instinct, a heat crawling up his neck.

“This is gonna need some getting used to,” Dean declared, putting his own hand on Castiel’s shoulder - because apparently two grown men staring deeply into each other’s eyes in the parking lot of a cheap motel, wasn’t inappropriate enough to be considered gay, with only one of them touching the other.

(If someone were doing a commentary on Dean’s life, they’d need to pepper in the fact of how the oldest Winchester was truly prone to being a helping hand to bring about situations which embarrassed him infinitely, in the confines of his own head, later.)

Dean pulled off his hand, almost that very next moment, and turned away from him, towards Baby. Thinking. There was so much to think about.

“Can I tell you something?” Castiel spoke up, his voice ever so thoughtful. “This is not… the first time I saw this. Angels can do it, angels who were raised together, who have fought together. Archangels find it simple. But seraphs like us?” He sighed. “Uriel had recently discovered we were able to do it, just a few decades back, but we tried it rarely, and now he..”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” Dean meant it, and he bit his lip. “But, what about me? I wasn’t - I’m not him, and I wasn’t raised with you, angel.” It didn’t strike him that he’d just called Castiel angel until sufficiently later, half-asleep in bed and replaying the conversation, and it was a miracle that he didn’t panic out of sight when it happened.

“I’ve never seen this before,” Castiel spoke, after a pause. “But there were stories. Of humans being able to do this, rarely. Very rarely.”

“What did I do -?” Dean stopped, not saying ‘wrong’, because Cas would probably not understand he meant it as a joke. And not saying ‘right’ either, because that wasn’t something he’s say out loud.

“It wasn’t something you did. I do not know why it happened for you and me, Dean. But,” Castiel stared at him keenly. Dean looked back at his eyes, and once again, he could feel them relapsing into their own bubble, where words didn’t need to be uttered to be understood. It was kind of fascinating.

Castiel paused, as if testing the string again, or maybe just wondering how to say it. When he finally does, his voice trembles a bit. And he’s searching in Dean’s eyes, some sort of reassurance; involuntarily.

I have heard it happens for those who are bonded.

Dean was suddenly grateful that Cas didn’t say that out loud, because Dean would have been absolutely incapable of responding with anything at all. But since this was just between them, there were only traces of a boundary, yet no intrusion- Dean felt the courage to think distinctly.

Then maybe you do know why it happened for us.

*

That's why, when Cas throws the 'profound bond' line at Sam, Dean instantly panicked. Castiel met his eyes, sending a, What's the matter?

Dean could only scoff his denial out loud, and glare a Not in front of my brother, jackass, into Castiel's irritatingly blue eyes.

*

In his defense, Dean doesn’t know how long Sam has been noticing it. But it’s got to be in the middle of a fight that he calls them out on it. It’s the middle of the goddamn showdown of the hunt. It’s the Winchesters and Castiel against dozens of demons; the angel whirred around, killing plenty, with expertise and his bright blade; Sam was exorcising loudly, from memory, as he fought off more demons using Ruby’s knife, and Dean shot at all the monsters in between.

When Dean gets a spare second - the Winchesters look like they’ve almost already won, and most demons are fighting to lose now - he whips his head in Cas’s direction. The latter is always majestic when he’s in his element, a glorious warrior.

Dean watches Cas flung a demon over, and pin him to the ground with a flourish, extracting a dying gasp as Castiel lands next to him with a palm on his sternum, displaying strength that should’ve been impossible; and Dean gapes. As if on cue, Castiel turns to face him, and there’s a triumphant spark in his eyes, and a smirk dangling tangent from the corner of his lips. It’s an absolute scene to die for, and he doesn’t look past Dean.

Dean. Castiel suddenly speaks, directly into Dean’s nerves.

That was so cool! You flipped him midair, it was something else, dude! Whoa! Dean lets out, in a hurry.

Castiel’s eyes don’t leave Dean’s, but they crinkle into a smile. You have blood in your hair.

I could do with a compliment too, but sure, worry more about my hair, why don’t you? Dean runs a hand violently through his hair, to get it off.

You’re an excellent fighter, and you know it. The fact that there was dry blood in your hair was something that you didn’t know, so I mentioned it. Castiel almost teased, and it stunned Dean how natural it felt suddenly. To have the voice of an angel echoing through his head, delivering lines in a deadpan. All while he got to stare into those fantastic baby blues, which starred in more dreams than Dean appreciated.

Come to think of it, Dean had no idea what he looked like, right now. Frozen in the middle of a fight scene, with eyes locked with Castiel’s, and no will to look away. His jaw basically hung, rapt in attention.

Don’t be that way. Dean sent back. Listen. Will you stay after the hunt tonight, Cas?

Do you need me to? Instantly resonated.

Once again, Dean surprised himself. But he was also beginning to realize that he could be both spontaneous and brave, when it came to saying the stuff he wanted to, when they communicated this way. Dean proposed, swiftly.

Nah, I was just thinking. If you were living with us tonight, we could make plans, you know - maybe a movie, some classic, of course; or maybe burgers and -

DEAN! Turn around, and SHOOT! HE’S BEHIND YOU!

Dean spun around as fast as he could, following thoughtlessly and firing away. His thoughts returned to him slower, still stuck on the way Cas’s eyes widened with sheer worry, when they saw Dean was in danger. Before he could think ahead, the body of an armed demon dropped at his feet, with a bullet in his head.

Castiel had sounded terrified for his sake, eyes suddenly wide and his booming baritone piercing through Dean’s bodily systems to make his muscles move just right. Never had Castiel’s voice overpowered all of his senses again - not once, after that one time in the abandoned shack, after the former raised him from hell.

”…Dean!“ Came Sam’s voice, trailing closer, and it was as if he’d been yelling for long - though Dean could only hear it now. "Are you okay!?”

“Yeah,” Dean touched the corpse with his boot. “Just peachy.” Their surroundings were silent, and all the demons had been killed. Sam ran towards him, frantic, and stopped as he began to yell, harshly clutching his brother’s shoulder, to get himself back together.

“You - you idiot! Both of you! Well, if you hadn’t been staring at each other’s mugs,” He declared, turning his head to include Castiel in his reprimand. “You’d have seen the demon coming sooner!”

Dean swallowed, suddenly overcome with the realization of what it looked like, each time they did it. Fuck. He hadn’t been thinking.

Sam wasn’t done yet. He’d been keeping it in for too long. “What is up with you, Dean!? I would think you got enough of looking at each other from what you keep doing, all frigging day!” It was as if Sam had taken the panic he felt at seeing his brother almost killed, and combined it with the frustration piling since almost a fortnight now into a mound of anger, that he shoved in their faces. “I mean - it doesn’t matter to me, you do you and be happy being yourself - but at least put the pining away when you’re in the middle of a fight!”

“It’s not pining, what the fuck do you mean?” Dean objected indignantly. “It is -” And he suddenly stopped mid-sentence. He looked at Castiel, but the angel was looking at the ground, almost as if he believed he was responsible for Dean’s almost-murder - while clearly he was the reason Dean was still alive!

Dean commenced on a trail of thoughts himself.

Didn’t Sam know at all? Well, should he? Did he really need to?

Okay, if he thought about it, probably not.

It wasn’t about this being a Dean-and-Cas thing. No. It wasn’t about that at all, that’d be ridiculous. It was plain and simple about keeping Sam from being a smartass about it, for forever later.

So that settled it.

Sam didn't need to know.

Were you telling me something? Castiel suddenly popped up in his head, sounding grave.

I was trying to think something at you, but never mind, Dean got swept up in the feeling of replying to the angel through his thoughts, feeling himself put every emotion through a channel to get to him, to remember that Sam was still right there -

“Oh, there you go again!” Sam whined, before beginning to storm away. “Don’t try to stop me from driving away in your car, Dean! You can just keep staring,” He snarked. “And try to get it out of your system before you return to the motel!”

Castiel walked to Dean, slowly, once Sam had left, leaving his rant in the middle. “Your brother -” He began.

“Obviously you don’t do this with him, because he has no idea,” Dean remarked, if he didn’t already know.

“It isn’t intentional.” Castiel defended.

Dean nodded. He walked a few steps on the path where his brother had marched off, seconds before. He knew Sammy - and knew that that was just an outburst for no reason but venting the sudden adrenaline, and he was just being the regular prissy cares-for-Dean’s-life bitch, he’s always been trying to be. It didn’t bother him as much as it would’ve, if Sam knew about the ‘bond’; especially what Dean thought of it as, inwardly.

Castiel blinked, bringing him back to the present. “But, Dean? What does Sam think, then? What do we do, when we look at each other’s eyes?”

“…uh, just look, I- I guess.” Dean stammered, fidgety. “It’s not a big deal, c'mon, let’s get back to Baby before the kid actually leaves. And hey, uh, about the heads-up about the demon, back then? I didn’t get ganked totally because of you, so - thanks.” Castiel looked at him like he didn’t make sense, which was pretty unfair, because he totally did, right? He was being extremely clear about all of this. Was dealing with all his new feelings like a pro.

He’d obviously been giving off the vibe, that meant that Dean was completely over the freak out phase associated with the fact that what their telepathic crap meant was that they were ‘bonded’ - or whatever, who cares - and was only attached to what that meant for him ~ that Cas could hear Dean’s thoughts and he had a choice to not let him, but he did let him, so that was supposed to mean something - and he saved Dean’s life almost periodically at this point, so that was another perk of having him around, except for the fact that he got to look into his eyes - and Dean was going to keep this entire complicated thing from his brother, as if it were his overdue gay panic, to be later referred to as a mid-life (sexuality) crisis.

Okay. Maybe it was the opposite of out in the open.

But perhaps Dean could ask Cas to look into his eyes, and go over these (that were so hard to actually say out loud) again, because yeah, that was a thing that they did now.

Dean Winchester had a weird life, and he was extremely happy to be living it right now, as Cas blinked at him and said, “Of course, Dean, always,” in response to the thanking, and followed him out of the room where they’d just killed an entire troop of demons and saved the state of Kansas, and as Dean plotted to push Sam right of the driver’s seat, and mentally made a note to start paying more attention to the setting before he starts staring at Cas. Apparently.

~~~

And that’s it! I know it’s an abrupt-ish end. but will you be fine if I post editions of this, separately? There’s an angsty one, with mentions of Purgatory, Naomi and Steve - and there’s probably also a crack one, with shipper!Sam, shipper!Charlie and shipper!Kevin, and some breakfast Destiel. Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this fic, and am so glad you sent me that headcannon, Caitlin!

Here’s my taglist for Destiel, and though this is pretty general, I guess it counts: @all-or-nothing-baby @petrichoravellichor @adventurous-blob @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @legendary-destiel @ladywaywarddsc @styggtroll @moderatelypanickedbisexual @trenchcoatsandfreckles @noemithenephilim @naitia @ctrl-alt-destiel @a-mess-of-many-fandoms and @3dg310rdsupreme, uwu, Special Mention: @zoerayne2426

[sanders-sides-rebloger]

Summary: Remy makes a new friend under that hole of where his heart should be

Word count: 1,662

• Remy goes out and and hangs by himself.

• He’s having a great time (takes selfies and. dances in public without a care).

• He meets Virgil on his way out and greats him for a bit.

• After their talk Virge walks away with the others, Remy looks at them for a few seconds before he leaves.

• The following night he’s up late on his phone, the screen eluminating his face.

• Without learning from his mistakes, Remy lays passed out in bed in the morning.

• He’s now driving with the window down smiling at the bustling streets of the crowded people and rushing cars.

• Gets out with a Starbucks tea in his hands. He goes to the club and parties with a big crowd, takes selfies by himself for social media, ya boy is thriving.

• A few weeks go by and Remy sees Virgil again but instead he’s with the others. Upon seeing this he hides behind a building so that he doesn’t see him.

• At the corner of his eye, Virge thinks he saw Remy for a second. When he stopped to look, he was no where to be found. He shrugs it off and continues walking with Patton, Logan, and Roman.

• From behind the building Remy sighs in relief from not being seen. He’s always preferred being alone, closing himself off from others.

• A few months go buy and Remy bumps into a man who crashed into him on his way to walking home.

• The man falls backwards to the floor, hurting his back a bit.

• Remys eyes widen from initial shock, and stumbles to help grabbing the guys scattered paper and other utilities.

• “I’m so so sorry!” The fallen man flushes with embarrassment.

• “It’s fine dude. You however, seem to have taken quite the knock out.”

• The hurried like man chuckles softly, in which Remy gives a small grin in response.

• He takes note of how the guy in front of him was wearing a Steven universe shirt, he must like cartoons.

• A good show, Remy supposes.

• “Sorry- I’m just kinda in a hurry.”

• The hurried man checks his phone to see the time. He panics, holding onto his bag tighter and runs off.

• “Thanks for the help!” He yells back to Remy as he runs off.

• He watches the man disappear in front of him, running ridiculously off into the hoard of people.

• After meeting the weird cartoon loving guy the first time, Remy honestly thought he’d never see him again. Turns out the universe had other plans.

• He saw him again as the cashier at a Starbucks (the one he usually goes to btw) and was surprised at seeing the guy there.

• Turns out he works at a coffee shop now, apparently.

• Remy ordered his latte and quickly saw that his name tag read “Thomas.”

• Not that it mattered or anything

• Remy could’ve sworn the Thomas guy was stalking him after seeing him the fourth time throughout two whole weeks. Even passing by him at a park he went by that Remy didn’t go to that much.

• Thomas teases him insisting it was fate that wanted them to be closer.

• Remy proceeds to groan in frustration and avoid the weirdly energetic man like the plague.

• Thomas wouldn’t budge though. He was like a leech that stuck to him after choosing his prey.

• But Thomas new. He started noticing Remys usual behaviors.

• When he started realizing how they both kept noticing each more often, Thomas kept note of Remys preference of isolation.

• He tried debunking his theory but it was only proven that more and more how Remys schedule was always the same when he went out in the city at specific times.

• And every time Remy wasn’t with anyone.

• Or more so, he chose to not be with anyone.

• Thomas then made it his mission to keep Remy company.

• Because everyone deserves someone in their life!

• Every time hes awkwardly asked to hang out, he was shot down every time. But that didn’t stop him alright.

• To Remy, he was pretty damn persistent but he never went overboard either. Just trying to make small talk and would leave satisfied regardless of whether or not Remy acknowledged his existence or not.

• Thomas would even sometimes chat his ear off. Going on and on about some random topics.

• Turns out, for the second time, that Thomas was late to an audition he was able to be part of. Which was why he ran into Remy that day.

• It took awhile but Remy got used to having the man around him.

• It felt almost unnatural for Thomas to not be with him practically glued to his side.

• He tried to get rid of the feeling, tried to make sense of it all but if Thomas’ mission was to try to make Remy warm up to him... then it worked.

• Remy never found anything special about himself to ever fawn over, so seeing the actor of a man-child actually want to be around him baffled him to no end.

• They both became best friends pretty soon even with Remy nervously asking Thomas to be in a queer platonic relationship.

• One night Remy is up late again.

• He receives a text pop up on his notifications that came from his friend.

• “Hey you up? I can’t sleep today rip” Thomas texts.

• Rem grins at his phone, happily tapping at his screen.

• Virgil’s on his phone, one day, waiting for the others to arrive. He’s leaned against a large pillar by the sidewalk with his headphones in, trying to block the noise of the loud chatter from the people walking past him in every direction.

• Scrolling through tumblr he’s surprised to hear some loud talking coming from someone. It wasn’t near the violet dressed boy. Must be from across the street.

• Regardless of trying to ignore it, Virgil was surprised to hear some of the loud chatter even with his headphones on.

• He takes them off his ears, with a low groan. Somewhat annoyed that he couldn’t listen to his music in peace.

• From across the lively bustling street in front of Virge, he can see Remy.

• He’s talking with some guy who he’s siting with. At a small table around a few shops, he observes.

• If the sunglass clad were even slightly observant, he’d see the normally anxious mans questioning eyes that were watching him. However Remy seemed to be too observed in his conversation with the guy in front of him. A smirk plastered on his lips, and his head leaned against the palm of his hand on the table.

• Remy seemed relatively close with him.

• Seeing this, Virgil had mixed feelings about the scene in front of him.

• None that were negative obviously. He’s glad that Remy found someone who he can be with from the looks of it.

• It was also kind of sudden too.

• They both usually have their time gaps between them for various reasons. And every time they’d meet it would only the two of them, not that it was a bad thing.

• The two usually have their chats sometime when their both not busy. Do things that whatever normal friends friends do and be on their merry way.

• Virgil could say they’re close acquaintances with Remy, borderline on friends.

• The emo tried to include Remy in Virgil’s own little clique, introduce him to the others and see if they’d get along. From knowing Remys personality, Virgil has an aching suspicion he’d especially get along with Princey.

• He was a bit disappointed in all his attempts to try to show the others Virgil’s ‘mysterious friend’ were a failure.

• Remy would make some sort of an excuse and bail last minute.

• After Virgil’s consultant with Patton after one of those said failures, he came to realize that maybe Remy wasn’t ready to open himself up yet to meet other people.

• So seeing him, after another one of their periodic time gaps, Virgil last expected to see him with another man as if he knew guy all his life.

• The sight almost warmed his heart. He’s glad someone was able to get through the barrier around Remys heart.

• Virgil took his eyes off them and continued staring down to his phone, the screen however might as well have been blank to him.

• Maybe one day Remy will introduce Virgil to his new friend. He doesn’t see that happening anytime soon, but hopefully one day.

• For now though, Virgil will just keep that information to himself.

• He predicts that Remy will just accuse him of stalking him or something.

• “-irgil! Helooo!” Patton waves a hand in front of him.

• He looks in Patton’s direction, seeing him chuckle softly at his confused and dazed state.

• “You seemed to have zoned out a bit kiddo, you alright? We all just finished shopping.”

• Virgil looks over Patton’s shoulder to see Logan and Roman with several bags in their hands. Logan lightly taps his foot impatiently as Roman smirks in Virgils general direction. Probably thinking of some sort of quip on the spot.

• Virgil groans, rubbing his eyes due to the strain of him awkwardly staring off into space while his mind was running a marathon.

• He goes with Patton towards the others.

• As the three of them chat away, the voices are distant in Virgil’s head.

• He quickly glances back to where Remy was sitting with his friend.

• When he looked back, peering between the people and the cars passing by, they were no where in sight.

• Just as Virgil predicted.

[anonthenullifier]

Listen I just finished reading An Auspice of Scarlet for the fifth time and like, damn, every time I finish it I just feel completely satisfied. I also need more I love this version of Wanda and Vision! Any chance more is coming? I know you’re on like a hiatus or something right now, but anything would be appreciated. Even just like headcanons (or is that just canon since it’s from you?) or thoughts. I’m just desperate for more.

I don’t think I know how to convey to you the sheer joy I get at knowing you’ve read it 5 times (5!) and still want more! It did drag me out of my hiatus long enough to respond, if that counts for anything. :D

There is going to be more at some point, sadly, however, given all that’s happening in life right now, my current pace of writing is the equivalent of a snail that partied too hard the night before and is now dreadfully hungover. Since you have read it five times though, I can give a brief peek at a very very rough (and 99% likely to change) beginning to the follow-up one shot I’ve been researching and outlining. The story is going to be from Vision’s perspective and focus on all of the factors that coalesce to finally convince him to break his promise to Tony and get married ( @rachelillustrates​ -  it will finally happen!). If you ever want to chat about head canons of their frontier life, you are welcome to PM me!

-Just realized I didn’t actually give you any SV or Wanda, so I added some for you.

****Dear Mr. Stark,

As I write to you, we are approaching the beginning of our third month. Due to the unexpected delays, which I have dutifully outlined in my prior letters, we are currently traversing through Iowa instead of being well into Nebraska. I worry each day what else will go wrong and how detrimental it will be to our timeline. A week ago we discovered the Lyons-Council Bluff line*, so heavily touted by the inhabitants of the prairie towns, does not actually exist yet. The stakes have been laid to mark its path, but going forward it appears as if the railroad is no longer a viable transport method. A thought that, for a time, was unfathomable. We rested for two days in Iowa City, long enough to map out a plan, purchase extra horses to haul the rail car over the rougher terrain, and I was able to find enough materials to reinforce the wheels so that we will not repeat the crisis in Indiana when the tracks uprooted. 

The line of the d juts up with a violent shake of the car, no doubt due to a rock in the ground. Vision instinctively glances down towards Wanda, whose slumber is somehow unperturbed by the latest turbulence. He does, very gently, inch her head back up his thigh and tilt her shoulder several degrees so she does not roll off the seat when this inevitably happens again. Next he looks to Helen, who shares a commiserate, exasperated head shake, Amadeus’ driving skills the least refined of the four of them, but the nonstop nature of their schedule means he still is in the rotation, even if he discovers more bumps in the road than is statistically likely to happen by chance. 

Vision returns to his letter, frowning at the assault of jagged ink on his otherwise pristine words (truthfully any writing in a moving vehicle is less than pristine, but he has become admirably skilled at it over the months). The intention is to spend one night in Council Bluffs for a reprieve from sleeping on the ground or in these seats, and also, fortuitously, a chance for him to rewrite his letter in a stationary setting. For now he keeps going, never sure how much depth to give or even if the letters ever make it to Tony. 

For a time we did discuss rerouting to the south and taking the path through Nicaragua that Dr. Cho and Mr. Cho

He pauses, wracking his memory on whether or not he has shared with Tony the surprising truth of the familial connection between Helen and her traveling companion. Of course he may never have mentioned it because, according to etiquette, gossip such as that is not meant to be shared via ink and parchment, even if Helen would not mind. Perhaps it is best to remain somewhat socially adroit despite the lack of refinement around them. Principles do matter regardless of environment.

traversed to get to the Exhibition. Yet the seaward path is, as Dr. Cho so eloquently phrased it, months of being embraced by soggy air. An environment we all concurred was not ideal in my present state. Thus

Now his s squiggles along, lurching across the paper in time with the inertia that shoves their bodies to the left (his free hand holds Wanda’s shoulder to keep her steady), while Amadeus curses loudly and the horses release aggrieved whinnies. “Amadeus,” Helen has slid her window open and is hanging half out of it as she speaks with their driver in Joseon. Even if the words are incomprehensible to him (if Wanda was awake she would help translate some of it, having shown an astounding predilection towards language acquisition), the tone is unmistakably reproachful. 

In his lap, Wanda begins to stir.  Immediately he runs his hand gently along her temple, easing her back into a steady sleep. 

“Apparently,” Helen returns to her seat, tugging her boots on over the hems of her trouser legs, “we’re stuck in mud.”

An aggravatingly common experience since losing the rails. Vision nods at the information before delicately cupping Wanda’s head, even more delicately lifting it, and then he slides out of the seat, grabs his coat from the bench across from them, and bunches it under Wanda’s ear.  He waits six seconds, the average time it takes for Wanda to rouse if he fails at a seamless transfer. At seven seconds she is still blissfully and beautifully at peace.  

Vision pulls on his own boots, a shoe choice that was rare at the manor but has become the sole option in the unkempt wilderness where puddles are hidden by tall, swaying grass and unassuming, even idyllic scenes, are frequently rife with moist unpleasantness. It is, per usual, the smartest choice, the squelch of leather sinking into mud greeting him as soon as he steps out of the train car. 

“He says he didn’t see it.” The it that Amadeus-by-way-of-Helen is referring to is a sizable sinkhole that appears to be devouring the left rear wheel.  It is likely a truthful claim, the knee high grass of the area a perfect screen for most disasters. 

Vision walks around the vehicle, eyeing the various junctions where their car interacts with the ground. When he reaches the offending wheel, he squats down, steadying himself with the handhold affixed to the side of the car and ignoring the unhappy grind of the steel fasteners in his joints. 

The wheel is stuck, as they already knew. A few careful and serious tugs confirms that it is very stuck, the mud forming a viscous vacuum around the wood where every application of shear stress seems to increase the overall viscosity. Scientifically fascinating albeit disheartening. Back in Pennsylvania, after a surprise deluge, they were able to apply friction to escape. That, however, is unlikely to work now given how deep the wheel has already sunk, and how it keeps settling in with each pull of the horses. Vision stands, allowing the wince at the sharp pain in his hip to happen freely since no one else is next to him. 

At least he thought he was alone. “You said it wasn’t bothering you.” Vision does his best not to flinch at the comment, both from surprise and shame, and turns to face the accusation, finding Helen’s arms crossed and face unflinchingly serious.

Bothering is subjective. Every day, every hour, every minute, his body bothers him, stuck in a continuous fight against the unnatural exoskeleton riveted into his bones. There is never a moment where it is not bothersome, but sometimes it is less so, like when he’s deep in conversation with Wanda, all of his attention on her words and the way she forms each syllable and the small touches of her fingers to his hand when making an important or jocular point. Or when he’s working, the singular joy of butlering meant his day was scheduled down to the millisecond with menial tasks to keep his body and mind busy. When distracted, he can pretend, for a brief time, his discomfort is nonexistent. What Helen is trying to imply is that his hip has gone beyond the normal level of bothering into something more worrisome. A fair and not wholly incorrect conclusion. “I believe the way I was seated today has aggravated it.” He knows it is a weak response, as does Helen’s increasingly dour glare. 

“When we get to the town, we’re doing a full check.” The understood? is silently implied, which means he provides an equally wordless affirming nod. “Good. Now what do we do about this?”

He shifts his mind back to the wheel. Friction is out. If they had an acceptable item to use as a lever, it could work, but nothing they have on the train, at least without dismantling the vehicle, is sturdy enough or long enough to apply the necessary force needed. If they were not already so far behind in their schedule (at least two weeks, by his calculations), Vision could piece together some sort of gear based lift, or a simple hydraulic process, no more complicated than what he constructed in his youth. Yet it would require dismantling and then remantling the inner workings of the car, a far too timely process. “We could attempt to utilize vector forces?” 

“That could work.”

Her quick agreement creates a momentary comfort at the potential success through empiricism. What they will need now is a rope and an anchor point far enough in front of the vehicle to provide sufficient resistance for the application of a perpendicular force. Unfortunately the only thing around them is a vast expanse of swaying prairie grass leading to a horizon of small hills and even more lowly vegetation. “I am not certain we have anything sturdy enough to utilize as an anchor.” 

Helen accepts this the way she does any hurdle to scientific advancement, with a shrug and an increased concentration on finding an alternative solution. “I’ll go check the car for anything we could use, we might still have spikes.”

“Thank you.” 

While Helen is in the railcar, Vision walks a line from the front of the car, careful not to aggravate the already on edge horses that are now released from their harness and grazing happily from the prairie. Each muddy boot lands with the heel just kissing the toe of his other foot until he is roughly five meters away. He turns back towards the conundrum of the day, mouth falling as his mind works through the calculations, which is a difficult matter given he does not have enough data. What will be the anchor? How much tension exists in their rope? He cannot even recall how long their rope is, although he is certain it is likely not long enough to reach him here, an unfortunate thought given he is not sure even this distance is enough to help produce the necessary Newtons to remove the wheel from the mud. Even if it did work, they need a sufficient perpendicular force. The horses are the strongest, but also the least reliable, especially now that Amadeus is letting them enjoy a bit of downtime and they tend to get obstinate when it is time to move again. 

All of this is wrong anyway, he should be assessing this from the end closest to the wheel. So Vision walks back, this time with his usual gait, no longer needing to measure the distance. It’s as he moves towards the back of the rail car that a voice surprises him, “Try to stay optimistic, Vizh.”

“Wanda, I-” The tilt of her lips matches the lightness of her admonishment, his worry lessening slightly. “I hope we did not wake you.”

The pressure of Wanda’s hand running along the edge of his spinal plate immediately calms his mind, a power he still doesn’t fully comprehend but appreciates nonetheless. “Helen woke me up, said you needed some help.”

A correct assessment. “Yes.” Her hand moves along an ovoid path, soothing away the displeasure in his voice until it falls somewhere around incredulity. “I am simply astounded and mortified at the sheer number of vehicular issues we have encountered and we still have all that,” Wanda follows his voice before he even raises a hand towards the never-ending sea of prairie ahead of them, “and more to traverse until…”

“We’ll be fine.” Wanda flashes him a smile imbued with surety, one that sends a jagged jolt along the metal pathways of his body, her confidence growing exponentially since they waved farewell to Tony, this woman remarkably and gloriously at home in their current state of survivalism and independence. “You have me.” 

The press of her lips to his cheek renders his mind and body still, enraptured at the sway of her hips, which is made all the more prevalent by her adopting the rational dress standard set by Helen. Vision’s eyes follow as she circles the railcar, hands dancing back and forth in front of her waist, testing the strength of the predicament. Once satisfied, Wanda steps several feet back, heels spread to just past the width of her shoulders, her left foot in front of her right, and then her arms weave a spell through the air, the scarlet energy shimmering, sending prismatic waves along her skin and braided hair. There is never any doubt in his mind nor heart at how much he loves her, but he is always amazed at how much more he loves her every day, particularly when he can witness her in such a free and powerful state. 

Creaking emanates from the wheels as they’re loosened from the mud, rising up into the air with a bend of her knees and deep concentration dragging her features down into a scowl. It is awe inspiring to witness this, and yet, it isn’t even her most impressive feat. Around the border of Illinois a bridge over the river had washed away and Wanda, single-handedly, was able to get them across. Truthfully, if not for Wanda and her abilities, they likely would never stand any chance of reaching their goal. 

The car settles onto dry land and Wanda wipes her hands, turning towards him with a prideful arc on her mouth. His body responds immediately and instinctively, all else fleeing from his mind except her. Eight steps and his arms can wrap around her waist, pulling her towards him, the laugh eeking out of her mouth echoing inside of his as he kisses her. “You,” he pulls back to look at her, amused and fascinated by the dissipating red in her irises, “are extraordinary.”

“Are you,” the walk of her fingers up his chest matches the feisty pace of her words, “trying to woo me?”

He strives to make his, “Always,” forthright while mirroring her tone. “Have I been successful—”

“We’re losing light.” Helen’s sensible interruption shatters the moment and Wanda ends their physical connection with a sly wink.

*This was a doozy to discover. There are about 5 maps that show the rail line exists in 1853, but then I was able to get an archived first hand account of someone whose father helped build the railroad, and it said they weren’t even building it yet in 1853.  Then was able to request a few items through my university’s inter-library loan that also confirm the railroad did not exist yet.

[aka-willow]

Take Me Home, Part 1

gif

Words: 1150

Characters: Willow Wren

Prompt/Tag: “Now, hold on just a diddly-darn minute.” / @anti-solidcoffee​

Summary: Willow begins her journey back to Boston

Timeline: July 2015

Song: Under Pressure - Queen

A/N: thank you for sending in the prompt! I was so excited to write this arc!

—————————————————————————–

I left New York City at three in the morning, which let me fly to Boston while it was still dark and arrive early in the morning, giving me the entire day to investigate. I stuffed my backpack with some snacks and my computer, along with all the print-out notes I had collected to help me. I went radio-silent online.

And then I left. The first few minutes of the flight were surreal, like I couldn’t believe I was willingly going back to the same place I had escaped from about eight months before. The air was cool, and I sailed above the clouds, pushing myself to catch the airstreams and sail as fast as possible. I had never flown this far in one go, even on my trip to New York City, I had to stop several times.

I’m going to be sore as hell after this.

I could already feel the shoulder aches that would definitely follow.

The flight gave me a lot of time to think, mostly about the prospects of facing down the people who ran the Facility again, of seeing them all again. The only thing that made that inevitability a little bit better was the idea that I may see my siblings again as well. What if I’m too late? What if… HYDRA… no we don’t know that for sure… whoever, then, got to them? What if they’re not the same people anymore? What about the resets?

When I was done worrying about that, I started worrying about high school—of all things. Ned had made a new group chat for us recently, composed of him, me, Peter, Ned, and Kate. He would have included Marty, but Marty was usually on his own wavelength socially and only hung out with those guys when I was there. Everyone was stoked, but I was worried about… well… everything.

So, I spent another chunk of my flight listing what I was excited about. Robotics club. Coding classes. Musical theater? That could be fun.

I saw Boston up ahead just as the sun was rising and landed out in a still-quiet parking lot. I checked my notes, and the parking garage was just a twenty-minute walk away. You can still turn around. You don’t have to go through with this.

I decided to stall and go to the Dunkies that I knew was near the parking garage entrance, at least having a healthy breakfast before storming the castle. Plus, I was parched for an iced coffee. Jessica and Trish seemed to have decided to stop letting me have coffee and I had to get root beer when I was with them instead. Which, to be fair, was delicious in its own way. But still. I needed that jolt of caffeine.

I was hyper-aware of every person that I passed on the walk there, wondering if they were involved with the Facility, or if they knew about it. And I knew it was immensely risky to be out in the open like this and planning to procrastinate in the Dunkin Donuts across the street from the Facility. Honestly, I hope someone from the Facility shows up. I would love a fight right now.

I sat in the Dunkin Donuts, munching on a coffee roll and trying to finish the iced coffee as fast as possible while I stared up at the TV playing MSNBC and scrolled through Instagram. A story about the Avengers caught my attention and I looked up at the TV just as they played a story about their new compound.

“Now, hold on just a diddly-darn minute,” I said to myself, staring up at the screen. The story confirmed the appearance of “new Avengers,” and the same woman from the Sokovia footage I had seen was there, the one with the powers that Marty compared to mine. “All right,” I said, under my breath. “Sure, when she’s got these powers she’s an Avenger and a superhero but then one time I used them in public one time I was deemed a weaponized threat on the news. Epic.”

That’s all right, I thought, as I got up to throw away my trash and head out. I like doing things on my own terms anyways.

The parking garage loomed ahead of me across the street. It was strange seeing it in the daylight, in reality again instead of my dreams. This garage was my first glimpse of the outside world in seven years. And here I am again.

I crossed the street and entered through the car entrance, pulling my earbuds out so that I could hear every movement around me. My steps echoed off the concrete floors and walls and ahead, I saw the stairwell I remembered emerging from. Remember that moment? When you opened the door and suddenly, it was… just… a parking garage? And you were free? That was the real world?

I took a breath and stepped into the stairwell. Just as I remembered, there’s a door marked utility. Ready, Willow? I thought I’d have to break the lock, but the door opened easily. Ahead of me was a small storage room, with another door in the back. This one was also unlocked. It’s all coming back now. After the backdoor, there’s a series of abandoned offices, though those were empty when I came through back in November. One of these offices has the door to the Facility stairwell. None of these rooms were lit, and I have to use my phone flashlight to navigate them.

I felt sick, knowing how close I was, that at any moment now, I could encounter a Facility worker. The abandoned office presented like a series of backrooms, and finally, I found the door to the drab stairwell I remember climbing. I descended down more than ten flights and when I landed at the bottom, there’s one long service tunnel.

Final stretch. This is it.

The service tunnel curves slightly and after the curve, I saw the giant, steel doors of the Facility. For the first time, too, I noticed the symbol on the doors, and it’s a giant, stylized HYDRA stamp. My stomach dropped at the sight of it. “Well fuck,” I said to myself. There’s the answer to one question.

How could I have been so oblivious?

I shut my eyes and gathered the air moving through the tunnel into a bluish force of wind that I propelled at the doors, blowing them open with a bang! I expected troops or guards or mad scientists to come bursting out, but the blast reverberated through the tunnel before the silence returned.

When I stepped inside the Facility, into the atrium that connected all the levels and floors, all the lights were off, and as I shone my flashlight around and took in the quiet, I realized it had been completely abandoned.

There was no one there.

[blackaquokat]

May You Always Be Satisfied (Part 2)

( Part 1 )

Disclaimer: I may offend someone’s religious beliefs in this chapter. My apologies ahead of time. Also, I would like to remind everyone that the turnout for this pairing is still in flux, but I can’t promise a happy ending. My final note is that I think I’ll be tagging this pairing as “Acting Attorney” because I love the alliteration and the implications that come along with the name. Anywhoodle, enjoy!

Oo00oO

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” they hiss under their breath.

“You agreed, didn’t you?” Mark retorts in a whisper, only for some bozo in front of them to turn around and shush them. “Look,” he continues in a quieter voice, “it’s gotten nothing but good reviews and I know you love Agatha Christie—”

“I do not trust movie adaptations!”

“Then trust me as someone who knows good movies!”

They roll their eyes and steal popcorn from the bag he’s holding. “Aspiring to be an actor doesn’t automatically make you a good judge of films, Mark.”

Mark places a hand over his heart. “You hurt me, dear friend, with your lack of faith. And your assumption that I know what ‘aspiring’ means.” He shushes them when they snort. “Now quiet, your favorite murder mystery is beginning…”

He sees them stick their tongue out at him from his peripherals (it’s so out-of-character, but it’s also just adorable that he brings this side of them out to play), but pays them no heed as the opening credits start.

Inviting them to see And Then There Were None when it first released in theaters had been a spur of the moment decision. Damien is off visiting his family for this Thanksgiving and since their family is either estranged, dead, or still overseas (despite the conclusion of the war months prior, there is still work to be done, so Mark has yet to meet their mother), Mark has kept in touch in order to give them company. This primarily involves calling them regularly and popping in for visits at least once every other day. He really isn’t in the mood to see his own family right now anyway.  The house holds too many unhappy memories; memories he has not quite recovered from yet.

When Mark heard about one of the most popular mystery stories of their time had been adapted for the big screen, Mark hadn’t even waiting a day before buying tickets and inviting his reticent friend along.

As the film played out, Mark would occasionally glance over to his companion and feel a spark of happiness at how transfixed they look. Whenever they actually gasped during a particularly tense scene, he couldn’t help but smile when he wasn’t jumping in his seat himself.

Afterwards, as they exit the theatre, Mark nudges them with his arm. “So, am I still a bad judge of movies?”

They shove him gently in return. “It was more accurate to the book than I was expecting. You got lucky, Chucklehead.”

“Of course I did! I got to see this masterpiece with you!”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Mark wants to grab them and crush them in his palm. He didn’t realize how true they were until he spoke them, and now there’s no taking them back.

Luckily, however, his friend doesn’t take him too seriously, rolling their eyes but reaching over and squeezing his forearm fondly. “Thanks for bringing me along.”

It feels like his heart is in his throat, and despite his best efforts, he can’t force it back down. He does, however, force a genuine smile, because seeing them happy brings him a kind of joy he’s never really felt before. Like flower petals fluttering in his chest.

“My pleasure.”

Oo00oO

Fall turns to winter, and then comes Christmas, and since Mark had spent Thanksgiving with their friend, this meant he got the “privilege” of spending Christmas with his parents while Damien gave their friend company during the holiday.

“So you guys are just going to take turns making sure I don’t spend the school breaks alone?” they had grumbled when Mark and Damien had first told them about their individual holiday plans.

“I’m jealous, honestly,” Mark had defended. “I’d much rather be here than at my place. I can’t stand my parents, and you make the best hot chocolate because you’re better at utilizing the ration cards.”

“It’s just cocoa and milk, Mark.”

“You put cinnamon too.”

“It’s not difficult to make. At all.”

“Then how does yours taste so superior to everyone else’s?”

They’d rolled their eyes, but Mark and Damien had felt reassured that they enjoyed the company, despite their pretend irritation.

When Mark returns to University after his time at home, he tries not to ruminate on how excited he feels at the prospect of seeing his friends again (or the way his pulse thrums at the thought of speaking to his reticent friend in person after so many days of just communicating via occasional phone call).

The last time he’d talked to Damien, the latter had suggested meeting at their favorite café, Amy’s Planet, and so that is where Mark is driving first.

He parks his car and tears out of the vehicle only to skid to a stop when he sees his friends through the window inside the café, he taps on the window repeatedly and waves when he gets their attention. They wave back as he enters, ignoring the glares of the other patrons.

Damien and their friend stand up from their table to embrace him (he tries not to linger too long in his friend’s embrace, in the scent of old paper and linen).

“I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed the both of you,” Mark declares as they all sit back down. He takes the seat between them around the small, circular table.

“Aw, that’s sweet.” His friend lifts up their coffee mug in a mock-toast. “I have to say, I missed you too, Chucklehead.”

“Excuse me,” Damien suddenly says, “I thought I was your Chucklehead?”

They raise their eyebrow at Damien’s face. “No, Damien, you are both chuckleheads to me.”

Damien gasps. “You mean to tell me we’ve both been your Chuckleheads this whole time!?”

Mark gasps as well, a hand flying to his chest for extra effect. “How dare you!? You rotten two-timer, I thought we had something special!”

They drop their head to the table, but it’s fairly obvious that they’re laughing at the antics. Mark and Damien exchange a victorious glance.

A few minutes later, their head lifts from the table and they take in a deep breath, forcing a straight face. “Well, Chuckleheads, why don’t you tell me what you want to eat and I’ll go tell the lady at the counter?”

Mark and Damien relay their orders, but as their friend stands up, they stare down at Mark. “If you keep slapping your chest every time you want to be dramatic, you’ll get a bruise.”

Mark scoffs. “Excuse you, what will actually happen is my chest will become hard as a rock. The ladies won’t be able to resist me!”

They roll their eyes and flick his forehead. As they leave for the counter, they ruffle Damien’s hair.

This action elicits a…strange response.

Damien, at first, waves their hand away and attempts to fix his hair with a mumble of irritation. Once they pass out of reach, however, a look comes over Damien’s face as he watches them approach the counter and speak to the cashier.

It’s a look Mark has seen before. Several times, actually.

But never before has Damien’s lovelorn eyes sent such daggers through his stomach.

Mark doesn’t speak much for a good while, too occupied observing Damien and trying to see any interest in their friend’s face when they return to the table with food. The latter is difficult, for even though he and Damien have for the most part coaxed them out of their taciturn shell, they still keep their emotions close to their chest.

Still…

Damien seems to make them smile more than Mark has seen in the past.

As happy as it makes Mark to witness, seeing that incredible sunrise smile…the daggers still twist.

Mark eventually manages to shake off the melancholy cast over him and puts on a performance for his closest friends that could have won him an Oscar.

Oo00oO

Later that day, as Mark follows Damien back to their shared dorm, he decides to broach the subject.

“Seems as though you and our friend have grown quite close since I’ve been gone.”

“Wha—OW!!”

Damien slides to the floor, holding his foot with a grimace. He’d slammed his toes into the bed frame when Mark asked his question.

“You were saying?”

Damien growls in pain as he rubs his toes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mark.”

“Right, Damien.” Mark rolls his eyes and drops to the floor in front of his friend. “I’ve been by your side through four girlfriends and two boyfriends. I know how you look when you’re smitten, and you are smitten.”

Damien looks up at Mark, something vulnerable and discerning in his gaze. “I could say the same of you.”

Mark’s hesitation only lasts a second (there is no possible way he’s been so obvious of his infatuation and that’s all it is an infatuation) before he scoffs and waves his hand. “Please, Damien. They are wonderful, and I am proud to know them, but I’m most certainly not in love with them.” The defense leaves an acidic taste on his tongue. “They are far too severe for my taste. You know how I like to have a bit of fun,” he tacks on with a wink, despite the burn in his chest.

“Mark—”

“Besides, you have so much in common! You are both going into politics, you’re both passion about justice! You should speak to them; perhaps invite them to the next motion picture coming out! They love horror films, just so you’re aware, but they also love a good murder mystery and the occasional romance.”  

Damien stares at him, and Mark worries at first that his friend can see right through his act. Shamefully, part of him hopes for it.

But then Damien nods. “I see. I…I suppose…” Blood rushes into his cheeks. “I’ll keep your words in mind.”

Mark wraps an arm around Damien’s shoulders and squeezes him into a hug. “I wish you all the luck, Goodwin. However, I must warn you: if you ever hurt them, I will act accordingly.” He pats Damien’s back and goes to his own bunk, ignoring how Damien’s knowing eyes follow his movements.

Oo00oO

Mark never gets the chance to see if Damien follows his advice or not because, just three days later, Mark receives the news that, irrevocably, alters the course of his life.

His parents have died.

The circumstances are unclear, exactly. The officials, when they deliver the report, only state that it’s an accident of some kind, involving the car as it left the property, but that doesn’t make sense how in the hell could the car have crashed or exploded or whatever had happened on the way out of their home—

But it happened.

His parents’ bodies are found in the charred remains of the car, and Mark is now utterly alone.

Well, not completely.

When he receives the news, his friend is with him, as is Damien. They hold him as he cries (though he’s not sure what he’s crying for exactly, they haven’t felt like his parents for so long, with their loud fights over nothing and ever-growing antagonism towards the rest of the world, the longer they had lived in that house, the worse his life became) and offer to go to the funeral with him.

Mark almost says no, because classes have just begun once more in full swing, but the idea of facing a sea of people who only know him and his family through reputation is just…a horrifying prospect.

So the three of them are briefly excused from their studies in order to attend the funeral.

Mark wishes he could say that it was a private, personal affair between close friends and family. Unfortunately, wealth and prestige don’t allow for that. He is forced to deal with a large number of strangers and politicians visiting a blown-out-of-proportion service.

After the initial talks and speeches about his parents’ lives and a rather long line of people coming to him and expressing condolences, there is a break in well-wishers. This gives Mark enough time to take a breath and express his distaste for the whole institution.

“If I hear one more comment about God taking my parents because He needed more angels in heaven, I may end up killing someone,” Mark mutters loud enough for just his friends to hear.

Damien pats his shoulder in reassurance. “Then there’ll be yet another angel.”

“I’ve never understood why people find that reassuring,” his friend suddenly says thoughtfully. “The whole ‘my loved ones were taken to be angels’ belief? The whole idea about God is that he’s all-powerful, right? If so, he could just make angels whenever he wanted, he wouldn’t need the souls of the living to do so.”

“Well, I imagine it is a sentiment people find comfort in, whether it’s accurate or not,” Damien ventures.

“But it doesn’t make sense, and even if it were true, how could anyone worship Him after such a thing? If a pastor told me that my loved ones were taken to serve God, I’d quit the whole Christian thing right then and there.”

There’s a familiar bitterness tainting their voice over the whole rant. Mark wonders if someone had attempted this manner of comfort when they lost their father.

“What I find hilarious about this,” Mark interjects to keep them from growing sadder, “is that this kind of questioning would offend so many people here, and the thought of you frightening off a third of these false-pious crumbs just delights me.”

A smirk pulls at their lips. “Well, I’m glad that I can delight you during these ‘trying times,’ Mark.”

Mark smothers a laugh behind his hand. “Trying times” has been said to him so often in the past hour alone, he swears he could fill a book with the phrase. And then cheerfully chuck the book into a hot fire.

“Wait a second,” he suddenly says. “That whole rant about angels…”

“What about it?”

“I just realized I don’t know. Are you a Chris—”

“Are we allowed to eat yet?” they interrupt as though they didn’t hear him. “I’m really hungry, and you still have a pretty large entourage to work through.”

“Uh…” Mark looks around. “There shouldn’t be anyone in the room right now, but if anybody gives you trouble, tell them to talk to me.”

They pat him on the shoulder. “My stomach thanks you, Chucklehead.”

“I think I’ll join you,” Damien offers. “And then we’ll smuggle food back here for you, Mark.”

“I appreciate it.”

Mark desperately tries not to watch the two of them go, but he does. They’re holding hands, but they have a tendency to do that with both Mark and Damien. Doesn’t mean anything.

Yet.

But Mark may as well have shoved Damien into their arms though, before all of this happened. And who wouldn’t want someone like Damien? Sweet, loving, supportive, painfully kind…

(Would he have encouraged Damien though, had he known this would happen, with his parents? The though tugs at him like a hook, and he can’t quite dig it out.)

Mark shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. No need to fall off that cliff just yet, not when he’s already teetering on a completely different one.

Suddenly, the air feels too close, a horrid weight on his chest, and he hears another guest heading in his direction, so he hurries to head outside, muttering something about a headache.

Once he reaches the outside world, he takes in a deep breath and lets it out, feeling the smell of green grass sting his nostrils. A small breeze cools him down from all the body he sustained while still inside. He counts his blessings that the service is being held at a funeral home, not his manor. It’ll be hard enough living there without the memory of a thousand strangers overrunning the grounds offering condolences over a couple they barely knew.

God, he’s going to be alone in that house now. He can’t decide if that will be worse than being there with his parents.

“Don’t tell me you’re leaving already, I just got here.”

Mark’s head jerks up and to the side to see the last person he ever thought would be at his parents’ funeral.

“Celine?”

Damien’s twin sister stares up at him, red lips lift into a small grin. “Don’t sound so surprised, like I actually wasn’t going to find a way here somehow.”

A desperate, choked sort of laugh leaves his throat as he hugs Celine close. He holds tight for a long time before they both let go.

“Does Damien know you’re here?”

“Damien can’t lie to our parents to save his life, so I didn’t tell him I snuck away. On the bright side…” She taps his nose with the tip of an obsidian nail, “it made for a pretty surprising entrance, right?”

“I’d say! Only…should I expect the cops to show up here to take you back home soon, once your parents realize you’re gone?”

Celine lets out a sweet giggle, but then she sobers as she reaches down to take his hand in hers, patting it gently. “I’m sorry about your parents, Mark. Truly.”

And there it is. The pity he’s disdained over the course of this entire affair. But at least this is genuine, and from someone who knows his family, his situation, and, more importantly, him.

At least this is from someone he’s always cared for.

“Thanks, I erm…” He shakes his head. “I honestly have been having trouble wrapping my mind around it.”

“I can imagine.” Celine purses her lips into a grimace. “Well, not really, but I understand what you’re saying.” She looks towards the crowded parking lot with utter distaste. “Politicians?”

“And fellow Blue Bloods.”

“Ugh, both at once. It’s a wonder you’ve lasted this long.” She glances at him out of the corner of her eye. “Would you like to go get drinks and talk? Away from here?”

Mark almost declines. It feels a little insensitive to leave, especially without Damien and his friend, but when he looks in the window of the funeral home…

There they are, sneaking food off the buffet into napkins with Damien, both with barely contained smiles. They mouth something Mark can’t make out, and Damien shoves their arm gently in response, making their smile widen.

Mark looks back at Celine, old feelings and passions rolling in his chest, and makes a decision.

“Drinks sound good.”

Oo00oO

Two weeks later, Damien is sitting next to his friend on their living room couch. His hair is untidy from his hands continuously running through it and he’s been staring at the coffee table for an inordinate amount of time, utterly shell shocked. A letter from Mark and Celine dangles loosely from his hand as his elbows rest on his knees.

His friend has been terribly silent, arms crossed and their lips pressed into a thin, grim line. Their back is pressed into the couch. Damien can feel the disappointment and barely contained anger tinging the air.

“Bastard could have at least invited you to the wedding,” they eventually mutter.

Damien sighs. “He could have invited you, too.”

“Yes, well, it’s not my sister he eloped with, is it?”

A ragged cough strangles out of Damien’s throat. There’s a shifting on the couch and an arm lands across his shoulders in a small hug.

“Sorry,” they whisper. “That was...I shouldn’t have said that, it was insensitive.”

“You’re not wrong,” he reassures them sadly. “I just...I don’t understand why...”

They shrug. “He’s an idiot,” they bite, and Damien is astonished by the anger in their voice.

“My friend—”

“Look, if I’ve learned anything after all that I’ve been through,” they interrupt firmly, “it’s that no one should make any major decisions while they’re still grieving. Much less getting married to his best friend’s twin two weeks after becoming an orphan, my God, what was he thinking...?”

Their voice suddenly chokes and they stand from the couch, pacing away.

Damien thinks now would be the worst time to share his suspicions, and yet they still swim furiously in his mind, drowning him.

Damn it, he should have just talked to Mark when he had the chance, before his parents died, told him the truth about their friend, maybe this wouldn’t have happened…but the whole misunderstanding had been so awkward and Damien had no idea how to clear the air without exposing their friend’s true sentiments, and then everything else happened so fast…

Why did it have to be his sister, he thinks in despair. Why now, when their parents had already threatened to cut her off from her inheritance, disown her from the family?

“I’ve always known he’s had…feelings for Celine,” Damien ventures quietly. He hates the way they stiffen as he speaks, but he needs to say this, before they think worse of Mark than he deserves. “But I never thought for a moment that he would…”

“Just run off with her without so much as a by-your-leave?”

He flinches at the blunt tone. Still, he hears the hurt sewn through the bitterness.

“Well, you know what?” they suddenly say, in painfully false giddiness as they turn back to Damien. “I hope they’re happy together. I really do.” They’re blinking too fast, eyes glinting. “Not like we needed him around anyway…” They release a deep, ragged breath. “You want some tea, I’ll go make some. I think we both could use it…”

They practically run to the kitchen, and Damien has never felt more helpless.

Mark, what have you done?

Oo00oO

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[stories-from-my-mind-to-yours]

You don't know you're alive until you're almost dead.

Cpt Craig Stevens of the United States Space Marine Corps made his way sliding down the emergency ladder as the sirens were blaring through the ship. His augmentations made him faster, smarter and stronger than humanly possible. His eyes saw every detail of every inch even at almost free fall speed. The signs with levels swooped past his eyes, as he saw level 17 he jumped off, ready to turn right and run to the armory. That was, if there had been any working artificial gravity on 17. There wasn't. He tried to turn as he soared through the air at break neck speed, but to no avail. He desperately clawed at everything, ANYTHING, to stop him from hitting whatever was in his path. In the corner of his eye, he saw the large titanium beam he had just propelled himself towards. "Fuck, this is going to hurt", he thought to himself before the violent impact knocked him out.

Mission specialist/engineer Sophia Karlsson woke up as the first alarm sounded. She practically jumped into her uniform, grabbed her utility belt and looked up at the stat screen. Her eyes widened in pure disbelief, and she bolted through the barely opening door, snatching her MPH (Multi purpose helmet*) from the shelf just outside the door. She felt a massive shiver through the floor, and almost fell over. It had felt like an earthquake, in a spaceship! She put her belt and helmet on, and called out for The ships A.I.

"T.I.N.A! SITREP! deploy repbots A.S.A.P and close all air locks! I wanna know what's going on NOW!" Her training kicked her into overdrive, adrenaline rushing through her veins, it felt like ages before Tina replied.

The familiar robotic voice crackled lightly in her ears before complying.

"A hull breach detected at level 6 caused an automated sealing of all adjacent air locks. Atmosphere holding steady at 86%. A.G.I (artificial gravity inducer*) down on levels 13, 17 and 21. Repair bots deployed. Multiple casualties detected. Smoke alarms on multiple levels."

"What the hell is going on Tina?!" Sophia shouted with a slight hint of panic in her voice.

"I do not know." was Tina's simple reply.

Commander George Engel of the United Space Federation, captain of the USF SX Concorde, woke up freezing, disoriented and had trouble breathing. His ears were ringing, he had a blasting headache, and he didn't even notice the gaping hole in his bedroom wall, that he was on the wrong side of, before his heart had stopped beating. His last thoughts were that he did like the view. Ice covered his grey hair quickly, and his eyes glazed over. Along with himself, a large number of bodies were slowly drifting away from the damaged spacecraft.

MS/E Sophia Karlsson knew she could be hot headed, stubborn and sometimes arrogant. But she loved her job, mostly. But trying to repair a ship possibly under fire, ON fire, isn't anyone's favorite job. But her quick thinking had probably saved at least a dozen lives, even if no one else knew it. She connected the last circuit board to the A.G.I control board and rebooted it. The dull thumping of the gravitational generator recommenced. The vibrations were further apart now, like whoever was firing at them were getting bored. Were they under attack? She wanted to know, but didn't expect someone to tell her. But she had to try.

"Tina, get me the bridge on vidcom."

Her helmet-screen came on, Major Erik Karlsson replied. His familiar voice calmed her frantic pulse, and reassured her everything would be all right. She saw only his right side, as he focused on other matters, his helmet sat at the control panel beside him. He looked drenched in sweat, his red beard dripping. He glanced at the screen beside him and smiled.

"Tell me how bad it is."

Sophia quickly summarized what she knew.

"31 unaccounted for so far, 19 badly injured or deceased. Fire is out, A.G.I. is up and running, hull damage manageable and repairs underway. What happened? Sir." She added hesitatingly, not sure of his new position, he shouldn't be on the bridge?

"Tina, give us a private channel." Tina acknowledged their comlink was secure with a sharp beep. Major Karlsson continued. "It was a meteor shower. Caught us by surprise, since the proximity radar had been turned off. Get me the log, I want to know who did it."

"I'll get on it right away. Anything else?"

He turned to face her on the screen for the first time during their short conversation. She wasn't ready for the gash that ran across the left side of his face, where his eye had been there was a bloodied bandage, and his neck, beard and uniform were stained dark red. A bioseal covered the lower right half of his face, meaning he had been treated for his wounds already. The sight was almost too much for her, and tears started filling her eyes.

"I'm just glad you're alive sis. Everyone above me in rank got sucked out when the captains cabin were hit. Every door opened shortly before. Only reason I'm alive is because I heard the doors open, so I got up and closed the airlock between our half and the senior officers department. The officers in training can get loud sometimes you know?"

She realized how close he had been to dying. Her throat clenched up, and he saw the expression on her face and chuckled.

"It's ok sis, I'm not dead yet, and I don't intend to die either. You just keep us floating and we'll be all right, ok?"

She still couldn't utter a sound, so she smiled, he smiled back, that crooked smile was made worse by half his face being missing.

"You didn't feel anything when this happened right? I knew that twin clairvoyancy was bullshit." She laughed out loud, the shock of seeing her brothers face like this had her mind in shambles. If there was one thing he could always do it was make her laugh. He was her big brother only by a few minutes, but he was as steady as a rock, a fixed point in whatever storm they were in. She couldn't bare to loose him.

"Can you take a look at level 6 when you have time? I hate to load everything on you, but I don't know who I can trust right now." She nodded, then quickly realized he couldn't see it.

"Yeah sure." Her voice held, but just barely. He smiled at her again, then resumed his duty as Commander. Talk about a speedy rise in rank.

She terminated the vidcom and collapsed on the floor. Tears streaming down her face, she shivered from head to toe. 50 probably dead. Sabotage. Murder. On a space exploration vessel? Why? How? Her mind was going on adrenaline, shock and recycled oxygen, she needed a drink. Or five. "Tina, secure the logs, and get me Craig on vidcom." She needed him, now, more than ever.

"Captain Stevens is unavailable for vidcom at the moment. Logs are secured."

"Well where the hell is he then?" Her heart skipped a beat.

"Captain Stevens tracker is at level 17. His Multi purpose helmet seems to be in his personal locker." Tina replied.

"Yeah of course, why have your helmet on you, that would be stupid."

Tina didn't reply.

She headed for the elevator, but it was used for transporting injured down to medbay. She sighed and glanced at the sign next to the elevator, indicating she was on level 30. Great. Only 13 flights up by ladder to 17. She opened the service door next to the elevator shaft and started climbing.

The medbay was jam packed. The I.C.U was full, all nurses had been on their feet for 20 hours, and doctors Green and Moreau were exhausted. But finally everyone was stable. They had only lost two to their wounds, thanks to their surgical skills, and fantastic nurses. Doctor Tom Green collapsed on the couch in their shared office. Doctor Frank Moreau was already sleeping in his chair. They had both taken more than one stimpak, and the crash was imminent. He just hoped nothing else would happen for the next six hours. He slowly drifted of to dream land.

Sophia had reached level 21 and her arms and legs were burning. Only four levels to go she thought to herself. She secured herself to the ladder and leaned back to rest for a moment.

"Tina, show me the logs from when the proximity radar was disabled." Pages of green text on a black background appeared on her screen. Last disabled by Tom Hardy, engineering, one hour before the meteor shower hit. "Tina get me Tom on vidcom."

"I am sorry, I can not find Tom Hardy on the ship." Replied the synthesized voice in her ears.

"Show his last known position."

An overview layout of the ships profile were shown on her screen, a small green blip appeared on top of the bridge outer hull as the ship profile turned three dimensional and turned to show his position relatively to the underlying structure.

The proximity radar tower was immediately above Commander Engel's quarters. Coincidence? Perhaps. But she intended to find out.

"Show me Tom's location at the moment of impact." The image showed Tom's blip floating away into space mere seconds before the first meteor hit them. Something had happened, Tom had been there, but she couldn't say if he had been involved in any way. She dismissed the images on her screen and continued her climb.

On the bridge order was slowly returning, as their new captain slowly assessed his new crew members. His voice was firm and clear, but his mind was racing. He had not been vetted for command as he had a minimum of 6 years to clear the experience needed to be even considered. But he had been an officer in USF for seven years, had commanded several ground missions and he was well known for his calm no matter the situation.

Lieutenant Carlisle requested his attention.

"Commander, we have a possible jackpot 90 minutes out, please advice."

"On screen." He replied.

The screen showed what looked like a replica of Earth. Clouds, seas, and land, it looked perfect.

"Any designation Carlisle?"

"Negative sir, unregistered planet."

He had no choice. They were in desperate need of repairs, and planetside repairs would take immensely less time. "Helm, plot a course, slow and steady. Get us there in one piece."

Their unanimous "Aye sir!" made him smile. Ah, to be young and foolish. He was 32 himself, one of the youngest to make officer, and by far the youngest to make commander. But the circumstances were just that, circumstantial. "Now let's just survive this day, and then we'll see." He muttered to himself.

Sophia had reached level 17 only to realize that the door was jammed. Of course, how could it not? Today was not a good day. Everything was going to hell. What more would turn out to be a disaster today? She sighed. She connected her arm-mounted service module to the door, and forced a manual override. The door groaned loudly as it slid almost halfway open, revealing total chaos on the other side. She squeezed through the opening and stepped into the hallway. "Tina, where is Craig?"

"Captain Stevens location is Junction 6 Delta."

She looked up at the orientation signs at the top of the wall. 6 Bravo. She went right, towards junction 6 Charlie. When she reached Charlie, she couldn't see Delta. The passageway was completely blocked by debris. She went straight ahead but there was no way she could get through. She used her card to unlock Charlie 8, whoever lived there wasn't home anyway. The small living space was tidy, and looked exactly like all the others. She opened the closet towards the Delta wall. All closets had emergency doors in them, in case the electronic doors failed. "Tina, open Charlie 8 emergency 2 please." The door slid open, revealing a wall of clothes behind it. She moved the clothes aside and peeked inside. Empty. She stepped through and made her way through the cloned room to the door, which slid open silently. The debris blocking the corridor to her right was a massive wall, but she couldn't do anything about that now. To her right was Delta junction, but no Craig. "Tina, where is Craig?"

"Captain Stevens location is Junction 6 Delta."

"Show me his tracker on screen." A fluttering image of the junction from above showed him to be just around the corner to the left. She took two steps forward and stopped. Blood. So much blood. She dashed around the corner, careful not to slip in the sticky red substance, her heart beating so hard. "No no no no no, Craig, nooo!" Her panicked scream echoed of the walls. She tried to jump over the pool of blood on the floor, landing on her knees in it, she checked him for a pulse. She couldn't feel anything. His face was pale, eyes half closed, lips blue. "MEDIVAC NOW TINA!" She screamed, she couldn't hold back the tears and panic in her voice. She held her ear above his mouth, and felt the faintest breath escape his nostrils. She couldn't see where he was bleeding from, but she didn't dare move him. An automated emergency stretcher unfolded itself behind her, and beeped loudly to call attention to itself. She slid out of the way quickly, her hands covered in Craig's blood, the stretcher folded itself over him, sealed itself and shot into the emergency transport chute. She sat sobbing on the floor, convinced he wouldn't survive. The floor in the hallway was covered in blood from side to side.

The emergency alarm sound in the medbay, which announced 10 seconds to arrival of an emergency stretcher. Doctor Green shot up from his chair, bloodshot eyes and a headache from hell, but he was awake at once, knowing he didn't have a second to spare. The second alarm meant 5 seconds to arrival, but he was already out the door.

Two android nurses came bursting out into the ambulance room, just as the stretcher came bursting through the door, alarms blaring and red and blue lights illuminating the walls. It landed on the table in the middle of the room and unfolded it's passenger. Doctor Green immediately called out for five units of blood, and turned captain Stevens in his side. He had a deep gash across the base of his neck, but there was almost no more bleeding. "Make that 10 units nurse! NOW!" Nurse Avery, an android powered by Tina, was way ahead of him. She already had two bloodlines connected, as well as stitching the deep wound in the captains neck. Being augmented, he had quick release connections in both his armpits, giving him a fighting chance, but hypoxia will kill any brain, augmented or not. Sophia had made her way to the medbay a few minutes later, and watched through the small window in the door as Tina embodied every tool at her disposal to save his life. A hand on her shoulder startled her, a small scream escaped her mouth before she jolted around and saw Tina's second android nurse Ava. "Forgive me Sophia, I didn't mean to scare you."

Sophia waved her hand at the android, and looked over her shoulder at the lifeless body on the medical table. She whimpered helplessly, tears flooding her eyes again.

"You shouldn't be here Sophia, please come." Tina's soft voice calmed her a little bit, but not much. She shook her head and exclaimed sharply "No! I'm staying here, I need to see him!" Sophia collapsed once again to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, the fatigue finally catching up to her. Tina lifted her softly and easily into her arms, and carried her to the waiting room couch. She held her closely, while simultaneously working on the love of her life. Tina diverted more computing power to the android nurse, helping it make its best effort at saving Craig's life. Artificial intelligence shouldn't have favorites, but T.I.N.A isn't any AI. And Sophia was her favorite human.

Sophia woke to doctor Green lightly shaking her shoulder. The expression of resignation on his face was what she had feared. Her mind in shambles, she had no reason to hear his apologies. She bolted upright and ran to the window. The table was empty. The android nurses stood at their charging stations. Everything stopped, time ceased to exist. The only thing in her universe was pain. A whimper of helplessness escaped her as she slowly lost all power in her legs, the pain inside tore through her like a plasma grenade, and her scream could be heard several levels both above and below. She didn't hear the door opening behind her, the sound of heavy boots on the floor, she didn't hear her own voice screaming, a deafening sound that drenched everything. But when she felt the familiar arm around her back her scream suddenly ended, the other arm grasping her legs and as lightly as a feather lifted her up to his chest. She looked into his icy blue eyes, she could barely breathe, she clutched his hair in her hand, she pressed her face in his neck and she cried. And she slept.

Part II

https://roninjason.tumblr.com/post/171918375360/you-dont-know-youre-alive-until-youre-almost

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Returning Accounts

Accounts which can be still left unfinished, incomplete, generally return. Permanently. And there are lots of options to shut all those circles, as many as kinds of incomplete interactions you will find. Numerous were younger years really loves, those initial feelings which had us entangled within our most detrimental period: adolescence. Unrequited, platonic, incorrect adores, or loves that finished badly simply because we were not able to control our feelings. Other testimonies are getting to be stagnant in the adult years, as a result of personal-censorship, due to genuine bodily miles, because of outside social or spiritual conditions, or due to concern which they would turn out to be something essential we could not manage.

I have got also sustained with one of these connections, and I have witnessed more than one get back to me, thus i am confident they all turn out coming back in one way or another. They can get it done only as being a excellent relationship, or possibly like a discreet approach that does not require actual intimacy or adore, but assured that the two or three most important in your own life will come your way just like a boomerang presently that the very least. hang on. And the particular point about these reunions, at the very least based on my experience, is that they may be very dull, or they can be spectacular. No center terrain.

The need I needed to fall asleep with him once I found him was directly proportional for the power which I had advised my buddy Carla the time before that we failed to want to see a person a thousand kilometers around me once again. As there is no chance to spit on the https://en.search.wordpress.com/?src=organic&q=live skies. And that is certainly another great universal fact. I can't describe why however if ten years before I had completely ignored him, now my system shudders in order to see him. So benefiting from an opportunity that existence gave us if you make us coincide again, I threw myself like crazy to capture him. Nor could I have faith that in detail how it taken place, nevertheless the chances to see us arose and a few days and nights later I was on his nude system with the skirt at the midsection and without the need of panties. From the first day we hooked up, we couldn't go just one working day without having touching. We fucked constantly and in all of the places where system requested us to. Along with the typical types, with sufficient intimacy for great joyful sexual screens, we utilized to let ourselves be transported away by desire in sites, stairs, elevators, the beachfront, inside your auto, under the park your car bushes, within the cinemas, within the bathrooms of the bars, from the altering spaces from the retailers, or wherever we were captured. It absolutely was pressing and igniting in us the wick of any great desire. He endured, practically painfully, a constant penile erection each minute he expended with me and i also was incapable of management the enthusiasm or perhaps the fluids within my crotch. So we weren't formal boyfriends or something like this. But we stayed to accomplish one thousand issues together then one thing finished up resulting in one more. In addition to the typical types, with plenty of closeness for excellent joyful sensual exhibits, we utilized to let ourselves be maintained away by enthusiasm in portals, steps, elevators, the beach, in your automobile, under the recreation area trees and shrubs, from the cinemas, within the bathrooms in the night clubs, from the transforming rooms of the shops, or wherever we had been trapped. It had been pressing and igniting in us the wick of your fantastic desire.

He endured, virtually painfully, a constant penile erection every single min he put in with me and I was struggling to control the exhilaration or the liquids within my crotch. Therefore we weren't formal boyfriends or anything at all like this. But we stayed to accomplish a thousand things together and another thing wound up ultimately causing yet another. In addition to the common versions, with sufficient closeness for excellent festive sensual displays, we accustomed to allow ourselves be carried away by interest in sites, stairways, elevators, the beachfront, inside your auto, within the park your car trees, in the cinemas, within the bathrooms from the cafes, within the altering areas of the shops, or wherever we were caught. It was actually coming in contact with and igniting in us the wick of the wonderful interest. He endured, practically painfully, a constant penile erection every single moment he expended with me and i also was struggling to handle the enthusiasm or the fluids within my crotch. So we weren't conventional boyfriends or nearly anything like that. But we stayed to perform thousands of stuff together and one point ended up leading to one more. the beach, with your auto, under the bushes in the playground, inside the cinemas, within the restrooms from the pubs, in the transforming rooms from the retailers, or wherever we had been free live hom sex caught. It was actually pressing and igniting in us the wick of your great desire. He endured, almost painfully, a constant penile erection every moment he put in with me and that i was struggling to management the exhilaration or even the essential fluids inside my crotch. Therefore we weren't formal boyfriends or anything at all that way. But we stayed to accomplish one thousand points together and one factor finished up ultimately causing one more. the seashore, in your car, beneath the trees inside the playground, from the cinemas, from the washrooms of the night clubs, from the shifting bedrooms of your shops, or wherever we had been found. It absolutely was pressing and igniting in us the wick of your great interest. He endured, virtually painfully, a continuing erection every single min he expended with me and I was struggling to handle the enthusiasm or perhaps the liquids in my crotch. And that we weren't professional boyfriends or nearly anything such as that. But we would meet to do a thousand things together then one thing finished up ultimately causing one more. a continuing penile erection every single second he expended with me and that i was unable to manage either the excitement or perhaps the fluids during my crotch. And we weren't formal boyfriends or anything like that. But we remained to do one thousand issues together and one thing finished up leading to yet another. a continuing erection every second he spent with me and I was incapable of manage either the arousal or the essential fluids within my crotch. And we weren't professional boyfriends or something such as that. But we would meet up with to do one thousand things together and one issue ended up leading to one more.

And one time, equally as that scenario got, it left: without having acknowledging it or knowing why. We close the cycle. We placed the total cease. Nevertheless, after a number of several years I continue to fantasize about this scenario that although for a number of factors was required to conclusion, it has been by far the most engaging I actually have ever existed. Each minute was erotic, every single caress impossible, every intensive sexual climax. To catalog amongst the breathtaking boomerang tales. Even so, as I said in the beginning, other tremendously boring accounts also come back, but I'll talk about individuals an additional day time because they decrease my libido and that i want to accomplish this excellent recollection by using a personal-tribute to my need to appreciate sex in life.