#i could have told you this 3 months into the programme

[nohkalikai]

3 months after completing my master's degree requirements, i can confidently say it was a waste of time and money.

[insertdisc5]

Devlog #11: Localization and Organizing Notes

Hello everyone! Welcome to this month’s devlog!

If you just stumbled upon this, I am Adrienne, also known as insertdisc5! I’m the developer, writer, artist, main programmer, etc of the game. The game being In Stars and Time, a timeloop RPG, which is the next and final game in the START AGAIN series, following START AGAIN: a prologue (available here!).  You can find out more about In Stars and Time here!!! 

LET’S GET TO IT. This month's devlog is about localizations and how I organize my notes!

The month of January has, once again, been all about bug fixing. My producer once told me QA and bug fixing would take forever and I didn’t believe her, but it is true. You kill one bug and three take its place.

Bugs aside, the first pass of the localization of the game into Japanese has been completed (thanks Kakehashi Games!) ! Wait did we even mention officially that the game will be in English and Japanese at release. Well there you go! In Stars and Time will be released in both English and Japanese!!!

Now that the first pass is over, it’s time for the very time intensive work of adding all that translated text into the game, as well as translating any illustrations. And after that, the localization team will take over QA, and will play the game from beginning to end in Japanese, making sure everything works well in context!

I can’t wait for Japanese speakers to try out the game as well!!!

Oh! Also, speaking of words, I wrote a post on how I approach worldbuilding, more specifically expressions and swear words and about how Jesus Christ is not canonical to the ISAT universe. Mayhaps it could tickle your fancy?

Uuuuuh this devlog is so short. I feel bad. Well uh (thinks very hard) how about you come with me on a journey, and look at how I organize my notes? Yeah? YEAH!!! (This section will feature: blocked out text) (Also: I realized after writing all this that I did talk about my writing process a bit in my #2 devlog. Well uh you get writing process: 2!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

I use OneNote for all my ISAT notes! I use it because quite frankly this was the first software I tried and it works. I like how it has tabs within tabs within tabs, so I can easily (ISH?) find any notes I’m looking for!

If you look at the colored tabs, the first one is “demo”, which is everything related to START AGAIN: a prologue (aka: has not been looked at for a year). It contains all the text in the game, as well as general gameplay notes and musings like “hey wouldnt it be fun if I used rock/paper/scissors.” You might notice the text here isn’t in the correct order. That’s a feature not a bug, thats just how my brain works OK!!!!!

The second tab is “Game”, which is the big In Stars And Time tab. It’s divided into a lot of sections, including: 

General Dev Notes, which contains general reminders (“ADD MORE PUNS”).

Random Dialogue Corner, which, as the name implies, contains a lot of random dialogues between the characters. They’re also divided into different sections, depending on what kind of dialogue it is- is it a funny scene, or a more serious one? Is it between characters, or just Siffrin going on a big monologue? Etc. This dialogue may or may not be in the game, its main reason for existing is “hee hee I like when my little guys talk in my head”.

Gameplay and Stuff, which is all about the rpg part of the game. What are the skills? How does each enemy behave? What quests are available? How does the game over screen work? Etc

And finally, a big section filled with The Story, which is divided into acts. From the very start, I knew ISAT would have very delimited story beats, which made it easy to just go “ok, this scene goes into Act 3”, etc. For the text, I make sure to keep all the different drafts I had of a specific scene, partly because I sometimes lose a nugget of Fun Stuff by rewriting a scene, and partly because it’s fun to see how a scene has evolved. I tend to write important story scenes 3 times, each time without looking at earlier drafts to see what comes out, and then frankenstein the scene from what I have.

In general I try to keep as many of my notes as possible, because I deleted a lot of my notes for START AGAIN: a prologue and it makes me sad I can’t look at my thought process on a lot of things anymore. KEEP YOUR NOTES KIDS

Going back to the big tabs, next we have “World”, which is everything related to worldbuilding, relationships between characters, the general timeline, more detailed notes on the culture, etc. I used this tab a lot less as time went on, but at the start it was very useful to be able to refer to it, especially for all the city names and their spelling…

After that, we have the “Devlog” tab, which is my own private devlog! I find it very useful to keep a private devlog for myself, because it helps me see clearly that YES, the game is coming along. Every week, I try to write down where I’m at, any problems that I have, as well as screenshots of what the game looks like. 

I also give myself space to write how I feel about the game! How is it going? Is it fun to work on this? What do I think about the story, about this character, about this development? I think it’s important to write those things down in the moment- I always keep in mind this post by Wreden, the creator of the Stanley Parable- in it, he talks about the reaction to the Stanley Parable, and how getting so many Thoughts thrown his way about what his game means meant that he lost sight of what his game meant to him. In Stars and Time means a lot to me, and I want to make sure future me remembers why!

Next is “meta”, which is mostly coding references. The way rpgmaker (and, I guess, most video game software???) works is by using variables to keep track of quests and whatnot, and so I used this tab to write down “if this variable equals 5, it means we’re at that point in this quest”! I also used it for code I always use but can’t be bothered to remember, like the conditional code that checks if a switch is ON or not. Aka the simplest most basic code. LISTEN I DON’T WANNA REMEMBER CODE OK

After that is the “To Do” tab, which is pretty self explanatory. I try to divide it into chunks like “To do (localization)”, so I don’t have a massive to-do list, but instead lots of small ones, teehee. This is also where I keep my changelog, to write down any changes I make between builds.

And last, but definitely not least, is my “Messy File” tab! This is where I put ALL MY NOTES. It needs different parts because I made a new part every time opening a tab made my computer chug like crazy. Because it has so many words.

I get an idea for a scene in the middle of the night? GOES INTO THE MESSY SCENE. Oh, I realized when I was grocery shopping that I should fix this small bug by doing this! MESSY FILE. Hehe what if I drew Siffrin baldMESSY FILE. Everything goes there, and then every couple weeks I go through it and put all those little nuggets of ideas into their actual tab. I find it useful to have a file that is allowed to be messy as hell, so the other tabs can be clean and neat!

The Messy File tab also contains the “Entire Story”, which is something I wrote in August 2021 when I started thinking I had no idea where I was going. I took like 4 hours to write down the entire story, from beginning to end, and if I had no idea what would happen, I would just make it up on the spot even if I thought it was bad. And guess what. After that, I knew where I was going. CRAZY!!! I did that a couple more times when I felt stuck at a specific point in the story, and it helped me every time. Would recommend.

And, that’s it! That’s how I organize my notes! I hope! This was! Insightful! Somehow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That’s all I have to say for today! Let me know if you have any questions, or if there’s any aspect of the game development struggle you’d like me to talk about! See you next time!!!

AND DON’T FORGET TO WISHLIST THE GAME ON STEAM ALSO IT REALLY HELPS BECAUSE STEAM’S ALGORITHM IS MORE LIKELY TO SHOW OFF GAMES WITH A HIGH AMOUNT OF WISHLISTS THAT’S THE REASON WHY GAME DEVS ALWAYS ASK TO WISHLIST!!! OKAY BYE!!!!

[writtenontheport]

Walk Me Home?

George Karim x (gn) Reader

Part 3: As the days go by (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt. 4)

Warnings/Tags: Reader is not an agent, Slow burn I think!!, Lucy and Lockwood being little shits my beloveds <3, Reader is an exchange student from abroad (vague), uhhhh I’m blanking but this is mostly fluff and self-indulgent, nerd Reader, Risking your life for the bit if the bit was knowledge

Notes: I CAVED. I could not go another day without writing an exchange student reader, physically hurt me not to 😔

Summary: George finds out that risking your life is a thing many people do; chief among them being the very people he cares about most. You’re no different, but at least you aren’t fighting ghosts. That’s a start.

Word count: 1.3k+

George settles into a schedule that slots you into his life with ease. You slide into the repertoire of his thoughts as if you’d always been there, waiting patiently to be noticed.

Every single thing in the world had a challenge, and yet the only thing you came with was a smile and a promise. Even Lockwood and Lucy had their own challenges; the challenge of keeping them alive chief among them. It was a challenge he understood and accepted with their line of work, but to finally meet someone mostly unattached to such a risk… It was strange.

You had come from abroad, far enough that news of the Problem was near non-existent and were not an agent. When visiting the British Isles for the first time, the Problem had barely been explained to you in anything other than harsh whispers and frustrated advice. This, you had told him, just a few weeks after you met.

“Everyone was so hurried all the time to get anywhere, and then, after curfew, London would be a ghost itself,” You told him once, sitting across from him at the same table you’d shared for months now. “When I had to go back home, I put in a request at my school to be part of an exchange programme. I can still remember how surprised the Dean looked when I told him I wanted to go to Britain.”

George understood why that was, shrugging lamely as he flipped to the next page of his book, “I wouldn’t send anybody here if where I lived didn’t have the threat of Visitors constantly over my head. I would send myself, but that’s out of scholarly interest.”

You chuckle lightly at the comment. “I ended up doing just that, so I can’t blame you.”

George hums in response, eyebrows lifting in the manner they do when he’s agreeable. “Must’ve been easy to find an exchange though…”

“Oh, very,” You say easily, “In fact some of the parents started sending me letters as soon as they found out someone was applying to exchange. Had very enticing terms they did— basically promised me a dowry, some of them. I didn’t even have to marry anyone.”

“Well I hope you took it,” he laughs, resting his cheek against his hand as he looks up at you, watching the light catch your eyes like a twinkling star, “Would be a pity if you didn’t.”

“I did,” you reply, mirroring him with your opposite hand as your sparkling gaze trails where your fingers nearly touch. His eyes drop to where you bump a knuckle into against his fist, and something curls in warm delight in his chest.

You don’t say anything more, and he’s too distracted to pick the conversation back up before you’re both packing to leave. Over the months, your visits to the library have gotten longer, and your walks take up enough time that he makes it back to Portland Row just as curfew’s setting in. Lucy and Lockwood always greet him like the cunning wolves they are, hungry for a scrap of gossip. Lockwood, he expected this from— the man reads gossip magazines as a hobby after all— but Lucy’s prodding seems to mostly come from a genuine interest in his life. For all their bickering, he knew Lockwood and Lucy truly just cared about his wellbeing.

So, a month or so into your… shared library visits, as he’d taken to calling them, he started to fill the two in on a few details. Sometimes they’re small things, like your favourite colour or the last fiction book you’d read, but other times he’d give a little more and tell them things like: ‘They’re from abroad’ or ‘They’re here, willingly, on an exchange program’. They wouldn’t get off his back for days when he told them the Problem was what kept you in Britain after your initial visit.

“You two are basically made for each other,” Lockwood coos, and George swats him on the chest for it. “Risking your lives for research and study and all that.”

“He’s right, if I hadn’t grown up with it, I certainly wouldn’t have sent myself into it,” Lucy adds, sitting far enough away that George can only glare at her. She holds up both hands in surrender, but looks at him intently.

George deflates a little against the table as he plops down, thinking over the fact you might just be as reckless as the two martyrs-in-the-making in front of him (as reckless as himself, though he would never admit it). It doesn’t genuinely disappoint him, but he likes to give Lockwood and Lucy the idea that recklessness is not a good trait by exaggerating his disapproval. Still, he preens at the thought that you really would fit right into their little home here in Portland Row.

“Where do they live for now, anyway?” Lucy asks around a mouthful of supper, doodling into the thinking cloth with every chew.

“Someplace North of the library, always took us 10 minutes to walk there.”

“You walk them home?” Lockwood asks, giddily smiling as if this was his library rendezvous they were talking about. George ignores him without so much as a glance.

“They’re living with an older couple raising their grandkid, who’s now been sent off to live elsewhere for the duration of the program,” he says instead.

“Now hold on—“

“George, you didn’t answer my—“

He tunes them out a little as he hides behind an old newspaper he’d brought to the table. It would be easy to just tune them out for the whole night (heavens know he’s done it more than once when their arguing got too loud), but something about you… always, always had him talking. It was as if the thought of you lit a fire in his lungs and he needed to talk about you to let the smoke clear, your smile a spark to light the flames.

“Yes, I walk them home,” He finally relents, dropping the newspaper to glare at them both. It doesn’t stop the twin grins from growing on their faces, but the admission makes something flare in the cavity of his chest. Smoke, fire, far-off stars, and peace from abroad; you really were giving him the world and more just by being in his.

“Would you fancy coming round one of these days?” he whispers to you, pinkie wrapped around yours. It’d been a week or two since you bumped a knuckle against his hand, and you had steadily built up to holding each other’s pinkies while reading across from each other.

You look up at him, and sparks fill his lungs with quick fire. “To your agency?”

“Yeah, Lucy and Lockwood have been bugging me to introduce you, but I’ve been putting them off because they can be… a lot.” He tugs on your pinkie absentmindedly, and your eyes flit at the motion. Something preens in his chest as you tug on his pinkie in return.

“If they’re anywhere as lovely as you, I’m sure we’d get on well. Intense or not.” Your smile catches in the light, popping against the bleak library walls and tall bookshelves. “Not today, but maybe we can set up a time when?”

George feels thankful you even said yes, with all that he’s told you about the two of them (he does not voice this). “Absolutely.”

When it’s time to walk home, you don’t ask anymore if he’d walk with you to avoid someone. Instead, you link pinkies, and walk the cobble streets back with the sun on the horizon. Unbeknownst to him, whose fires rage in the cavity of his lungs at your smile, your heart hammers against the bones of your ribs at his.

“Meet again tomorrow?” You ask, hopeful as ever with your glittering eyes.

“As long as you’ll be there,” he responds easily, a smile finding its way onto his lips.

A/N: I caved. I gave reader a lil bit of backstory. I hadn’t meant to, but UGH I just love exchange student au. Anyways, sorry this took so long, I was in the midst of a personal sweets shortage and lost the motivation to write (I am not joking 😭) hope you fellow George lovers sleep a good night with your pillow cold <333

[glitch-pep]

Under the cut is a massive ramble that I NEED to get out of my system, because a lot has changed in the last two months or so-

Also the oc stuff on my blog has been looking like this and it's been bugging me to no end so I wanna explain some stuff below- 💀

#1

After 4-5 years of drawing on my phone with my finger, I spent my savings on a drawing tablet. It's been a giant wish of mine to have one for ages, but I never really worked up the courage to do it since it's a big financial decision and I always feel guilty about spending money... but, after months of intense contemplating I did it!

Buuut I did have a few mental breakdowns once it arrived... long story short, turns out that you can't connect a HP PC with the tablet using the USB-c cable that you get with the tablet, because the USB-c port of the PC doesn't support an additional screen display.

I did look up if you can connect them beforehand, and the internet told me that the answer is yes. You can't trust anything these days bro- 💀💀💀

After A LOT of back and forth and me trying to return the tablet because I can't use it without it being connected to the PC, they told me that I can't return it. Than after EVEN MORE back and forth, we found out that it would work with a completely different cable that I had to order seperately. I had just about enough money left for it, so I ordered it, and then it was peace and love on planet earth because it finally works now.

#2

Also, I needed a free drawing programm I could use, but problem was that my old app, Sketch Draw And Paint, has the most simple layout and functions it can have, so I was used to simplicity.

When I tested out GIMP, Krita, Inkspace and FireAlpaca, I could not wrap my head around how they worked and my lazy ass didn't feel like watching a bunch of tutorials... I was like bro let's find one that I can figure out on my own, it can't be that complicated. 💀

Everyone thank MediBang Paint for being simple enough for me to understand... if MediBang Paint has 0 fans I'm dead fr. From now on, all of my art will be drawn in MediBang Paint and on the tablet.

Is my art any better? Idk but I'm having fun so far, experimenting with stuff, slowly getting towards actually getting some oc stuff done...

...and, speaking of oc stuff...

#3

...I'm going to explain what I plan to work on in the future for each of my oc's, so, let's get started.

Mina - I'm not going to be making any more main character eene oc's, I only gotta design Mina's aunt and a different side character and add them to the characters in her lore and that's it. Mina's story is by far the most simple out of everyone. She'll just get 1 or 2 fics. This doesn't mean that I don't love her, trust me I've had some crazy ideas for her lore, but I've decided to keep it simple, because it makes sense given who Mina is.

Milo and CJ - For the sake of telling you my versions of Seasons 3 and 4 of mf, I have to slightly redesign each canon character from the main cast, figure out how to draw them and write some new lore for them, while using any info I found to characterize them somewhat properly.

I watched and overanalyzed the entirety of the webisodes and the alternative versions of them, as well as the Nickelodeon show, and I looked through the website and the wiki, all for the sake of writing down ANY piece of information I can get about the lore of this show and the characters, because I really needed to have something to work with.

I rearranged S1 a bit and put together a S2 with the webisodes. I'll talk about this eventually.

I won't be making any new main character oc's for this one, only background characters. I'm planning to write S3 and S4 in the form of fics.

Sunny and Molly - For this one I have to add a bunch of secondary and background characters, but we don't need those to begin the story, they'll be relevant later. I'm currently trying to piece together episodes and which goes where so that I can start writing it. I also gotta analyze the website a bit more, to get a feel of how to somewhat properly write the canon characters. I also have a seperate wh oc story idea in mind that I wanna get to eventually as well.

Charlie - I have to remake Charlie's intro, slightly redesign her, add 4 additional main characters, also secondary and background characters but those will be relevant later... Charlie shares her story with a bunch of other oc's. This one will definitely take me the longest, and it's the last thing on my waiting list, because I wanna tackle the easier ideas first. I do also have a seperate sm oc story in mind that I wanna get to as well.

Piper - I don't exactly know what I'm gonna do yet. I wanna see how tadc plays out, and then I'll work on setting some stuff in stone. I do have some ideas and concepts in mind, but I'm not sure in what direction I should go with it, depends upon how the story in the show will play out. (I probably won't wait for the whole show to be done, but at least 1-2 more eps would kinda help me understand where it's going.) I will work on some of the ideas tho.

As of now, I don't plan to make any new oc's for any other fandoms, mostly because I haven't gotten a good enough idea for anything yet, but also because I really wanna work towards polishing the oc's I already have.

I am setting stuff up so that I can start writing the fics. I have no idea how long this will take me, given that I got irl responsibilities to take care of too, but I'll try my best to get it done eventually.

And that's it. I hope you'll have a nice day! 💕

[sparrow-marrow]

CSOCW 24 Day 7 - La Femme Rouge-

@carmensandiego-ocweek

Jamie learns the truth about Player's international pen pal 'Red'

(Probably during season 2 after they get the HQ)

"Where the fuck did it go??" Jamie thought aloud as they searched up and down for her computer charger. He had an audition at the end of the month and wanted to print out their resume and headshot. 'Maybe Peter has an extra.' She wondered as he made their way down the hall to his room.

Jamie knocked, and knocked, Player didn't answer either time, so they opened the door to ask.

"Hey, Player? Do you have an-" Jamie was interrupted by Player responding to someone on the other side of the call, "Alright Red, disabling the security cameras now." He started to type on his desktop, when he noticed light coming from behind him. He turned and noticed Jamie leaning on the doorframe, one eyebrow raised. "Fuck you mean 'disabling the security cams'?" Player felt sweat beginning to roll down his forehead, "Oh Crap."

"Player? Is everything alright?" The familiar voice of Carmen calmed him down a small bit, "Yeah just give me a sec." He turned back to his computer to finish, while Jamie sat down on a chair and gave him a look that said 'We'll talk later'.

The caper was successful, but Player couldn't be more nervous. Maybe it was the fact that he now had to explain the VILE situation to Jamie, who had been watching for the past 2 hours.

"Explain. Now." Jamie was sitting in the chair like you would expect an older sibling to do. Player nervously chuckled, "Well... Do you remember my friend Red", Jamie nodded, "And have you heard of Carmen Sandiego?" They scoffs, "Everyone's heard of Carmen Sandiego," Jamie's eyes widened as she put things together, "Oh my god, don't tell me, Red is Carmen," Player rubbed his neck while Jamie pinched his nose, "And you're her programmer or whatever." Player gave her a small smile, "Got it in one." Jamie then suggested that Player should call Carmen to explain more of this... entire thing.

It wasn't until Player got Carmen on video call that the entire story was explained. "So you," Jamie pointed at the screen, "were raised by shitty people, one of which is not so shitty, in a school for thieves," He then pointed at Player, "During which, you hacked through the security and befriended Carmen. And now you're dismantling this entire organization heist by heist with 3 other people." Both Carmen and Player nodded, Player kind of nervous of how Jamie will react.

Jamie just shrugged and said, "As long as you're not hurting anyone and spiting assholes, I'm fine with it.", They stood up and patted their legs, "Now if you could tell me the names of those other shitty people. My guitar and I have a date..." Player recognized the glint in Jamie's eyes as she said that. "JAMIE, NO! DO NOT." Carmen looked confused as Player jumped out of his chair to grab Jamie's arm, "What're they trying to do?" Player looked back at the screen, "Remember how I told you how I had a bully problem a couple of years ago?" Carmen nodded. "Jamie stopped them by using horror special effects and a very threatening guitar message." Carmen just nodded slowly, "Where did you say Jamie went to school again?"

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Chapter 8: Medcentre

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

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

Word Count: 5.5k+

3 months later.

“I may recharge for the night.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just, lay down?”

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

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

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

“No I can’t… we have…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Havoc-2, do you read me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The engines, tell me about the engines.”

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

“Havoc-2?” You whispered.

“I had assumed you’d fallen asleep.”

“Sorry.”

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

“Tech, did you download my appointments?”

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

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

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

“Tech.”

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

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

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

“Maybe I will,” you teased.

“Goodnight, Havoc Medic.”

“Night Havoc-2. Medic out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just need your code…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oops. Did I break more ribs?”

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

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

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

“Yes ma’am!” He called after you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just keep talking,” you whispered.

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

“Today, what happened would be good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am better now, talking to you.”

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

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

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

“Yes, Goodnight Havoc-2.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yessss.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I imagine I was pretty loud.”

“That’s not…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sweeter-innocence-fics]

Surviving Sokovia - Chapter Sixteen

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Work Summary: 

You were a Sokovian orphan living on the streets of Novi Grad, until Strucker offered you a choice.

Now you are a part of his human experimentation programme, trying to survive an entirely different world of horrors. The kind boy with the beautiful eyes is the only thing that keeps you going.

This story contains dark themes. Please read the notes on chapter one for more details. Dialogue in {these brackets} is in Sokovian.

Chapter Summary: He's waiting for you.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2793

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @mcximffs @noz4a2 @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @ifilwtmfc @officiallykuute @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @rottenstyx @the-skys-musical-echo

Taglist info.

Previous Chapter

Notes:

hello I have a few notes for this one

1) sorry it's late, I was struggling with this fic last night so decided to leave it until the morning

2) it's NaNoWriMo, which means I will have less time for fic writing. I'm still aiming to upload the final chapter of this next monday but just wanted to warn you guys that there might be delays.

3) I am not Jewish but I do have Jewish heritage, so I did my best to research stuff about Jewish traditions, apologies if I got anything wrong

Warnings for smut, complicated feelings around religion, pregnancy stuff, mentions of injury, PTSD, detailed description of a foot massage(?)

---

There was a gentle tapping on the door. You smoothed your hands down your stomach, cradling your bump.

“Come in!” you called. The door opened behind you. In the mirror, you saw Wanda stepping into the room.

“{Are you ready?}” she asked. “{It’s time}.” You took a deep breath, and nodded.

Wanda had put far more work into today than you had, running between you and Pietro to ensure you both had everything you needed. Pietro had tentatively befriended some of the other Avengers, but you were shyer, so Wanda was all you had.

She took your hand in hers and squeezed it. “{You look beautiful. Come on. He’s waiting for you}.”

She led you out into a vestibule. On one side of you was a door to the outside, propped open to let in a cool breeze. On the other was a set of large double doors that Wanda opened a crack and then whispered something to someone on the other side.

After a moment, she beckoned you over.  The music started up as you linked arms with her and stepped through the doors into the small chapel.

Tony had kept his word. He was paying for everything. Granted, you were keeping the ceremony small, so there wasn’t much to pay for, but it was still a relief.

Pietro’s parents had been Jewish, but never particularly religious. He’d told you that they’d barely gone to temple when he was a child, and once they were gone, he’d had nothing to tie him to his faith. You’d asked him if that made him sad, and he just shrugged.

“{If there is some higher power, then He has a lot to answer for},” he had said.

You had never really been religious either. So you kept the ceremony mostly secular, with a few concessions to Pietro’s heritage.

He stood at the end of the aisle. Your heart stuttered as you met his eyes. He was always handsome, but right now, he was devastatingly so. His dark blue suit emphasised his slender frame, only suggesting at the rippling muscles that you knew lay beneath. His bleached blond locks perfectly styled, tousled artfully. He at once looked so young, and also more like a man than you’d ever seen him. You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

The rest of the Avengers were sitting on benches on either side of you, apart from Clint. He was stood beside Pietro. He was nominally the best man, as he was the Avenger Pietro was closest to, but in actual fact, Wanda had taken on both best man and maid of honour roles.

As you got closer, you could see that Pietro’s eyes were watering. You wanted to run to him then, but you were seven months pregnant and wearing very impractical shoes. It took all of your restraint not to throw yourself into his arms as soon as you were close enough.

“{You look so beautiful},” he murmured as he took your hand.

The ceremony was kept brief. Neither of you could stand for extended periods of time, and you didn’t know 90% of the attendees very well, so you were thankful for that. Although most of the audience only spoke English, you gave your vows in Sokovian. After all, this was for you, not them.

You were on the verge of tears as Pietro swore to love you and protect you, that everything he’d been through had been worth it because it led him to you, that he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

When the ceremony was over, the two of you were ushered into a private room. This was one of the concessions. Yichud, the short period of seclusion that would allow you to reflect on your relationship. As soon as you were alone, Pietro put his arms around you and kissed you breathless.

The world had shrunk down to the size of this room. There was only you, only Pietro, clinging to each other and breathing the same air.

When you finally broke apart, he sat down on the small sofa against one wall and pulled you down beside him. It was a tight squeeze, so you were half in his lap.  

“{How are you feeling, Mrs Maximoff?}” he asked. His tone was bubbly and warm. You wanted to sink into him and never come back.

“{Never better, Mr Maximoff}.”

He pulled your legs across his lap and rested one hand on your bump. “{Are you looking forward to the honeymoon?}”

“{I’m looking forward to being alone with you},” you said softly.

And it was true that you’d never really been alone with Pietro. In Sokovia, Hydra had always been watching, or else you’d been with Wanda. In New York, the three of you (and Odeta) had shared Pietro’s hospital room until yesterday, at which point you’d been ushered away into another bedroom so as not to see him the night before the wedding. 

Courtesy of Tony, the two of you were going to be staying in a secluded cabin upstate, far from everyone and everything.

“{You know, it’s customary for us to share our first meal together as husband and wife while we’re here. Wanda made us these},” he said, retrieving a tin from the table. He opened it to reveal a batch of cookies.

You let him feed you one, and then kiss the crumbs from your lips. You were dizzingly, deliriously happy. The two of you stayed in seclusion for far longer than the prescribed eight minutes.

There was no reception. You had agreed that it would be too much for both of you, so after the Yichud, the plan was to get straight in the car to be driven upstate. Wanda kissed you both goodbye and promised to take good care of Odeta while you were gone.

Pietro could have gotten you to the cabin in a few seconds flat, but you had opted for a car instead. Speeding around with him made you dizzy, and you weren’t in any hurry. Once you were in the backseat of the car, you put your head on Pietro’s shoulder – your husband’s shoulder – and closed your eyes.

Music was playing on the radio. Pietro’s window was open, so a cool breeze was blowing across your face. It was a warm evening in early spring and the smell of your husband’s cologne was in your nostrils. You pressed your nose against his collarbone and inhaled.

His arm was around you. One hand was resting against your face, his index finger stroking along the line of your jaw. His thumb came to rest just behind your earlobe, anchoring his hand there. As his little finger skittered across your lower lip, you pressed a kiss to it.

“{I thought you were sleeping},” he murmured, laughter in his voice.

“{No, just drinking it all in}.”

The cabin itself was in the middle of the woods. Pregnant as you were, Pietro wouldn’t let you carry any bags. He whisked them all inside before you’d even made it out of the car.

He thanked the driver and then swept you off your feet, bridal style.

“Piet,” you squeaked, and he nuzzled his face into your neck. As was tradition, he carried you over the threshold. “{I think it’s supposed to be the threshold of our house},” you pointed out as he set you down on your feet.

“{This is our house, for now}.”

From the outside, the place had looked unassuming, but inside, there was state of the art security tech.

“If anyone but you two is in that place, we will know immediately,” Tony had assured you. “You’ll be safe there.”

And that had been what you were looking for. It had been nearly two months since Sokovia, but you knew that some scars would never heal. You still found yourself looking for Strucker in every dark corner, or Ultron and his robots in every clank of machinery. You still saw Pietro’s body, riddled with bullets, every time you closed your eyes.

“{Hey, hey, what’s wrong?}” Pietro asked, cupping your cheek.

“{Nothing’s wrong}.”

“{You’re frowning}.”

You tilted your head into his palm and exhaled. “{Sorry. Feeling a little sore}.”

“{Come sit down}.”

You let him lead you over to the sofa and sat down with him. He wrapped his hand around your calf and laid it on his lap. He fiddled with the straps of your sandals for a moment, freeing your foot from its restraints. You breathed deeply.

“{Better?}” he asked.

“{Better}.”

He removed your other sandal, and then began massaging the tension out of both of your calves. You lay back on the sofa as he laid sweet kisses to the insides of your ankles, and pressed his thumbs into the ball of your foot hard enough to draw a moan out of you.

“{Did that hurt?}”

“{A little. But in a good way}.”

He did it again. You groaned. “{You like that?}”

“{Yes. Very much. I have some lotion in my suitcase. Could you rub some into my feet for me?}”

He disappeared but was back before your feet had even had a chance to hit the sofa, holding a tub of cocoa butter. “{This stuff?}”

“{Yes, that stuff}.”

You closed your eyes as he took a healthy dollop and began to massage it into your feet. His fingernails scratched affectionately at your ankles and swiped under your toenails. He spread your toes, a strangely pleasurable stretch as he pressed his thumbs into the sensitive skin on their underside.

You groaned happily, stretching your feet further into his space. He continued working his way up your legs, moisturising and massaging the skin of your calves and shins. When he reached your knees, his hands curling around them gently but firmly, a spark of arousal jolted up your leg.

“{Are you alright?}” asked Pietro, pulling back.

“{I’m good},” you said, sounding a little breathless.

He raised one eyebrow, and you knew he was seeing right through you. Smoothing his hands up the skin of your calves again, he hooked his hands under your knees and parted your legs. You shivered. In the time that he’d been out of action, you had forgotten how strong he was. Right now, you knew you couldn’t have broken his grip if you wanted to, and that excited you. 

“{What do you say we check out the bedroom?}” he suggested, still resting his hands on your spread knees. You just nodded, and he dipped forward to help you to your feet. He stayed close behind you, breath warm against your ear. “{I’m just going to wash my hands. I’ll meet you in there}.” He gave your ass a quick slap and pushed you in the direction of the bedroom.

You had expected him to catch up with you immediately, but he didn’t. You felt the absence of his hands on you. Your feet also felt strangely sensitive after the massage he’d just given them.

Against one wall was a full length mirror. In it, you saw yourself, still dressed in your wedding dress, your pregnant belly bulging out in front of you. You smoothed some hair out of your face and exhaled deeply. This was real.

A moment later, strong arms curled around you from behind, his hands laying on the curve of your bump. Pietro rested his chin on your shoulder and pressed a kiss behind your ear.

“{Hi, beautiful},” he murmured. His cologne was stronger now, like he’d just put more on.

“{Hi, my love}.” You were breathless.

With a grin on his face, your husband began to nip at your ear, his hands moving from your belly to cup your breasts. “{We should get you out of this dress},” he murmured. “{We don’t to make a mess of it}.”

Your heart fluttered. He kissed you right at the back of your neck, along your spine, and your insides felt as though they were melting.

Getting you undressed was fiddlier than usual. Pietro was careful not to damage the dress, and his fingers skimmed over every new piece of exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“{Lay down with me},” he murmured as he unhooked your bra. You let him guide you over to the bed and pull back the covers. It was a cool evening and you were wearing only your panties now, so you shoved your feet down under the duvet. As you tried to cover the rest of yourself with it, he stopped you. “{I want to see you}.”

He spooned you, pressing kisses to your neck. You leant back into him, feeling the heat of his body. Pietro always ran hot, and you were glad for that right now. One hand cupped your breast and squeezed, the other played with the waistband of your panties.

He groaned. “{God, your boobs feel so good}.” He thumbed over your nipple and you let out and undignified squeak. Your breasts had become more sensitive recently. While you were distracted by his mouth on your neck and his fingers playing with your nipple, he slid his other hand into your panties and found you wet and wanting.

“{That all for me, sweet girl?}” he asked, grazing the skin of your neck with his teeth. You could only nod.

You had no idea how long the two of you lay there like that, with him playing your body like an instrument, trying to make music fall from your lips. It could’ve been minutes or hours. Your panties had long been discarded and his bare erection was pressing insistently against your lower back. Eventually, you grabbed his hand.

“{Stop teasing and fuck me},” you commanded, and he chuckled.

“{Alright, bossy}.”

He hooked a hand under your knee again, spreading your legs wide. You felt him line himself up against your entrance from behind and your eyes fluttered close as he pushed into you.

It had been a little while, so the stretch straddled the line between pleasure and pain for you. You let your head fall back onto his shoulder. You trusted him to get both of you where you were going now.

He started out slow – uncharacteristically so – restarting the process of working you back up to orgasm. You would’ve been frustrated if it hadn’t felt so good. Once he’d found his rhythm, his fingers found your clit, settling into a pace that he knew you liked.

For your part, you didn’t do much of the work. Not that Pietro would’ve let you. He was strongly of the opinion that you should never have to do anything you didn’t want to again. You thought that was impractical, but for now, you were indulging him.

“{Pretty girl},” Pietro murmured. His voice was husky, his words spoken into the skin behind your ear. You shivered. “{My pretty little wife. No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to fuck you like this. You’re mine}.”

“{I’m all yours},” you cooed, your body lax against his. His tongue slipped into your ear, jolting you back to attention. “Piet,” you squeaked, feeling a hot ball of pleasure growing in between your thighs.

“{So many ways for me to fuck you},” he mused. “{Some day I’m going to ruin every single one of your holes}.”

“{Yes},” you whimpered.

“{You want that?}”

“{Yes}.”

His hips thrust faster. His fingers on your clit began to speed up until they were almost vibrating. You practically howled as you came, thrusting pathetically back against him. He chuckled at that, and didn’t stop fucking you.

There was no reprieve. A moment later, your orgasm crested again, this time bringing tears to your eyes.

“Pi- Pi-e-tro,” you gasped, your words punctuated by his thrusts.

“{My poor sweet girl. So drunk on my big cock, aren’t you? I’ve absolutely ruined you}.” Your hands clasped at his, feeling the vibrations as he abused your clit and played with your breasts. Your feet pressed into the mattress, arching your spine as you came for the third time. Pietro groaned again. “{So fucking good. So tight and wet for me}.” His thrusts sped up, and after a moment, finally, he came too.

You listened to his breathing slow down. He didn’t pull out of you, instead opting to fasten his arms around your ribcage and pull you tighter to him. Once he was satisfied that he was adequately spooning you, his hands came to rest on your bump instead. It was a little while before you felt able to talk again.

“{Are you enjoying your first day being my husband?}” you asked playfully, tilting your head to look up at him.

He groaned, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “{You’re the best wife I could ask for}.”

Next Chapter

[punchdrunkdoc]

Part 2, Chapter 10

Summary: After the events of S3, Matt Murdock is trying to once again balance life as a lawyer and a vigilante. But he’s been scarred by loss and betrayal - will a mysterious new neighbour help him heal? Or will her secrets drag him back into the darkness?

Notes: This is a slow burn romance with an original female character, told in 3 parts. There is mystery, intrigue, action/violence and angst - all the good stuff!

Also available on AO3 and Wattpad

Masterlist

Reference pics

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This is a longer chapter than normal...because lots of sh*t goes down!

Enjoy!

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PART 2

Chapter 10

Yelena jumped off the counter and stalked towards Volkov. “How?” she barked. “How are they tracking us?”

He just smiled.

Her hand shot out and she backhanded him viciously across the face. His head snapped back, but when he faced her again, that damned smirk was still in place.

“HOW?”

The smirk stretched into another savage smile. “Project планктон.”

“Project Plankton?” Yelena translated, sounding confused. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Volkov didn’t answer. And for the first time since he’d stepped foot in the mansion his unflappable countenance faltered. His smiled slipped and he frowned.

“Answer me!” Yelena demanded.

He didn’t answer. Instead, his eyes rolled back in his head and he started jerking and twitching against the restraints.

“He’s seizing!” Sofia yelled. She ran over to him and shone a pen-torch in his eyes, flicking the light back and forth.

“He’s faking,” Kira said.

“No, Melina warned us this could happen.”

“Stabilise him,” Yelena barked at the medic. “We still need answers.”

“No, we need to get out of here!” Inessa objected. “You heard him!”

“And go where? They’re tracking us somehow.” Yelena turned to Anya. “Is there anything about Project Plankton in Dreykov’s files?”

Anya was already scrolling through her ever-present tablet. She didn’t look up from the screen as she bit out a quick, “I’m on it.”

The Widows crowded around her as she searched through the terabytes of information she’d spent the last few months decrypting. “Got it. There’s a single reference to Project Plankton in a memo from 2013. It was a theoretical nanite programme one of the scientists suggested to Dreykov.”

“Theoretical?”

“Well, it was theoretical when this memo was released. Maybe it became practical in the years since, and Dreykov kept it off the books.”

“Nanites?” Calina asked. “As in nanotechnology? That’s well beyond theoretical now. It underpins all of Tony Stark’s latest Iron Man machinery.”

Katya started rubbing her arms. “And they’re inside us? These nanites?”

Anya finally looked up, her face grave. “Do you remember the injection they gave us all after Yelena disappeared? They must have realised they needed another way to keep track of us after she managed to dig out her chip.”

“How do we get them out?” Calina asked, trying to resist the urge to scratch at her own arms. The though of still having Red Room tech inside her was making her feel nauseous.

“We can’t dig them out, that’s for sure,” Anya said. “There’s a reason it was called Project Plankton. Plankton are tiny organisms carried around on tides and currents. The nanites are in our blood.”

“Can we block the signals?” Calina asked.

“For one of us maybe, but not all of us. Not unless we had a jammer the size of a Buick.”

“Fuck,” Kira spat. “So we’re stuck with them?”

“I didn’t say that,” Anya replied. “I just said they couldn’t be dug out. But there is a way to remove them. It’s mentioned in the memo: plasmapheresis.”

“Plasma-what?” Yelena said.

“Plasmapheresis,” Sofia repeated, using her medical knowledge to explain to the group. “Plasma exchange. You remove a person’s blood, circulate it through a machine which filters out the plasma and anything harmful that’s present in it - in this case, evil little robots - and then the blood is returned with a substitution fluid.”

“Is it safe?”

“Yes, but the bigger question is, how the hell are we going to find a plasmapheresis machine before Volkov’s men find us?”

“That’s your new task,” Yelena ordered. “Calina and Anya, help her with anything she needs. The rest of you start implementing lockdown protocol. I want this place turned into a death trap for any motherfucker who comes looking for Volkov.”

 ———

 Calina tightened the strap on her thigh holster and then checked the clip in her gun. The weapons were just a precaution, in case they ran into any of Volkov’s men. The actual mission was a quick in-and-out bit of grand larceny. Anya had found a private clinic just over the border in Georgia that offered plasmapheresis treatments.

And they were going to rob it.

“Keep in contact,” Yelena ordered, as Calina, Anya and Sofia finished arming themselves. “I’ll send a text every 30 minutes. If I miss a check-in, you’ll know the mansion is compromised, so stay clear.”

“No,” Calina said. “We’ll haul ass back here to provide reinforcements.”

“No, Calina. We need at least some of the group to be safe. In case any of us are captured, we need a team to mount a rescue. From a new base, with no nanites in their system.”

“Has there been any progress on the new base?” Katya asked from her seat at the dining table. She was rigging up a set of trip-wire devices that would be planted in the garden outside.

“We’ve found a place to rent. The money’s been wired, we’re just waiting on confirmation from the broker. Its in Maine, so I hope everyone likes lobster.”

“We’ll finally be living the high life,” Katya joked - or tried to. There was too much tension in her voice to make it believable.

Calina powered up her phone, ready to receive Yelena’s check-ins. But it started ringing 30 seconds later.

Anya groaned. “You have to do something about that. Now.”

Calina nodded and slipped out the front door. She took a deep breath and hit the answer button. “Matt, you need to stop calling.”

“Calina? Thank God,” he breathed.

It had been less than 48 hours since she’d heard his voice, but she’d missed the deep rich sound so much. It made her long to be back in his apartment, sat in the armchair next to him as they talked about books and courtrooms and everything and nothing.

Was this what homesickness felt like?

She buried the feeling. And the grief at the knowledge that it would never be like that between them again. “Matthew,” she said firmly, her voice as cold as she could manage. “Please stop calling. I need this phone line open and I need radio silence for the next few hours.”

“What do you mean? What’s going on? Are you in danger?”

At that moment, Anya, Sofia and Inessa exited the front door. They jogged passed Calina, and Anya called out to her over her shoulder. “Calina, we need to go! Get your ass in the van.”

“I have to go,” she said to Matt. “Stop calling. I mean it.”

“Wait-”

She hung up. Then stared at the device. A part of her - a small, hopelessly hopeful part of her - wanted it to ring again. She wanted some proof that Matt would keep fighting for her. Some proof that his incessant calling had nothing to do with guilt, and everything to do with love.

But the phone stayed silent.

She ignored the irrational pang of hurt. All it meant was that he was respecting her wishes - especially since he thought she was in danger.

She slipped the phone into one of the pouches on her belt and joined her team mates. Inessa was their get-away driver. She looked ridiculously tiny behind the wheel of the large transit van but she backed out of the driveway and onto the main road with ease. Within minutes they were speeding down the highway towards Augusta.

They arrived at the clinic a few hours later, long after the staff had gone home for the night. Inessa parked a block away and the four of them scoped out the street, checking for CCTV cameras and assessing the level of foot traffic.

“Does anyone else feel guilty about stealing from a medical facility?” Inessa asked from the front seat. “People are gonna arrive for their treatments tomorrow and be turned away.” 

“The anonymous $100 000 donation I just made into the clinic’s checking account should lessen some of the pain,” Anya replied.

“Okay. That makes me feel better.”

Calina smiled. It made her feel better too. But she couldn’t help teasing Anya. “Shouldn’t you have waited until after we stole the machines? What if it goes wrong?”

Anya shrugged. “Then our last act as free women will have been one of charity.”

Anya’s off-hand remark went down like a lead balloon.

Free women.

None of them were really free. Even now, there was probably some lackey in Volkov’s ‘faction’ monitoring 4 green dots on a screen and wondering why they’d taken a detour across state lines. That monitoring - that subtle, distant form of control - meant that none of them were truly free.

Their lives would never be their own until they got rid of the tracking devices.

“Let’s get this done,” Sofia growled, echoing Calina’s thoughts. “I want these fucking things out of me as soon as humanly possible.”

The other three women nodded.

Then they went and got it done.

 ———

 At a few minutes after midnight, Anya took a seat next to one of the machines. She was the first one to undergo the procedure.

And she hadn’t volunteered.

None of them wanted to be first - and not because they doubted Sofia’s medical knowledge or were worried about the process. No one wanted to go first, because as soon as they were cleared of the nanites, they would have to leave the compound and start making their way to Maine. They would have to leave their sisters, while the threat of Volkov’s men descending on the mansion grew more and more imminent.

It was Yelena’s plan, and she wasn’t budging on it.

“Sofia says it is going to take 2-3 hours for each exchange of blood,” Yelena had explained to the group as they’d sat around the large dining table. “There are 15 of us in the compound. I don’t have nanites in my system, so that leaves 14 of you to be treated. Even using both the machines that we stole, its going to take more than half a day to treat everyone. Which means, we’re at real risk of not being finished before Volkov’s men arrive.”

“All the more reason why we should stay after we’re treated. Stay and fight,” Kira objected.

Sofia jumped into the debate. “There’s a risk of side effects from the procedure. Dizziness, nausea, low blood pressure, muscle spasms, and more. Not ideal for a combat situation.”

“We need to establish the new base,” Yelena continued. “Like I said to Calina earlier, we need Widows who are free of trackers who can come rescue the rest of us if the worst happens. If we all stay here and fight, we might all lose - especially if you guys aren’t in top form from the procedure.”

“But-” Katya began.

“No,” Yelena said firmly. “This isn’t up for a vote, or even a discussion. There’s no time.” She paused to look at the women around her, and Calina could have sworn there was a hint of tears in Yelena’s eyes. “I know you guys think I’m too controlling sometimes. And too bossy. But I care about each and every one of you. I want us to survive.” She met Calina’s eyes. “And I want us to thrive, and be happy. That can only happen when we’re truly free. This is the best way to get that freedom.”

She’d received several nods of agreement in response. But most of the women around the table just looked resigned, their tight lips and frowns expressing their displeasure. 

They’d pulled straws to determine the order of treatment, and that was how Anya - and another woman called Viktoria - found themselves being hooked up to the machines as the other widows watched.

Viktoria was done in just over two hours. Anya took a little longer - more plasma in her system, according to Sofia. But by 3am, the two of them were nanite-free and on the road heading north.

And another two Widows took their place by the machines.

This process repeated itself throughout the morning. As more and more Widows left, the mansion got quieter and quieter, and the tension felt by those left behind ratcheted up higher and higher. The clock on the wall of the make-shift med bay ticked louder and louder, the noise acting as a constant reminder of the passing of time.

Time they didn’t have.

By midday, there were only six widows left in the house, and each one of them was painfully aware that Volkov’s men could be battering down the doors at any moment.

Sofia calmly disconnected Inessa from one of the machines and helped her to her feet. The smaller woman swayed and clutched at Sofia.

“Are you okay?” Calina asked. She was next up in the chair, one of the last two Widows to be treated.

She’d drawn the shortest of straws, but she hadn’t complained. The Widows were a team - and they were all working towards the good of the whole group - not any one individual. It didn’t matter that she had people that she cared about back in New York - like Alma, her elderly neighbour. And Foggy and Karen.

And Matt.

It didn’t matter that she had more of a ‘life’ to save than the other Widows. She was just one of 15 today.

And it wasn’t like she was planning to return to that life anyway.

Inessa straightened up and waved off Calina’s concern. “Yeah, just a bit woozy.”

Calina nodded and took her seat. She’d already unzipped and pulled down the top half of her Widow suit, leaving her in a black tank top. She stuck her arm out and Sofia got to work inserting the cannula. The medic had gone through her own procedure hours ago but had stayed to make sure everyone else got treated properly.

Katya was sat next to her, finishing off her own plasma exchange. She gave Calina a smile. “Hey, Calina, how’s it going?” she asked, as if they were grabbing a drink at a cafe.

Calina laughed at Katya’s attempt to lighten the mood. “Not bad. You know, apart from having had only five hours sleep in the last three days.”

“And apart from finding out you have tracking robots in your blood,” Katya added.

Calina continued the game. “And apart from knowing that a strike team of Red Room operatives is about to descend upon us at any moment.”

“You guys are hilarious,” Yelena mumbled sarcastically. She’d been prowling from one side of the room to the other for hours, her head buried in a tablet which was linked to the security feeds from the exterior of the property. A stockpile of weapons was laid out on the table behind her, and every so often she would grab a gun and pace with it in her free hand.

She was wound tight. And obviously not in the mood for humour.   

Inessa laughed though, in between gulping down a litre of water. Evidently, plasmapheresis made you thirsty. Kira was the last of the six, and she was guarding Volkov while she waited for Katya to finish and free up her machine.

Volkov had recovered from his seizure but they hadn’t resumed his interrogation. Melina had advised against dosing him with any more of the serum, and between arranging the new base, securing the old one, and treating the Widows, none of them could spare time to torture answers out of him the old-fashioned way. The plan was to take him with them when they left, and resume his questioning on the road.

“You’re done,” Sofia announced to Katya half an hour later.

“Good,” Yelena said. “Katya, you and Inessa grab your things and get out of here.”

“Nope,” Katya said. She zipped up her suit and tightened the bands holding her tightly curled hair in place.

Yelena straightened up. “What do you mean, ‘nope’?”

“Inessa and I already discussed it. We’re not leaving the four of you here alone. You’re going to need firepower if Volkov’s men arrive in the next few hours, and even if they don’t, you’ll need help securing Volkov in the van.”

“Katya-”

“No, Yelena. You and Calina risked everything to get me out of Seoul and save me from the serum. I’m not going to leave you both behind.”

Calina could tell by the firm glint in Katya’s eyes that she wasn’t going to back down. Yelena could obviously see it too. “Fine,” she said, relenting. “Go down to the basement and relieve Kira. Tell her to get her ass up here stat - she’s the last one in the chair. Inessa, grab your weapons and take watch upstairs.” She passed an earpiece to each of the remaining Widows. “All of you, stay on comms and stay alert.”

“Got it, boss.” Inessa scampered out the room and Katya followed behind her.

Yelena glanced at the clock and checked the clip of the latest gun to have made it into her hands. Calina’s own weapon was in her lap, and she had to resist the urge to clench it in her hand like a scared child with a security blanket.

“It’s going to be alright,” Calina said.

Yelena scoffed. “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”

“Okay, maybe not. But if the worst happens, just know that you tried your best, Yelena. You gave us a home, and kept us safe, as best you could.”

“Says the woman who abandoned that home the minute she could.”

Calina sighed. “I don’t want to fight about that again, Yelena.”

Yelena rubbed her forehead. “I know. I’m sorry - blame it on the stress. For what its worth…”

“What?” Calina prompted.

“For what its worth, I’m glad you got those few months of happiness. Even though it didn’t work out, I’m glad you got to try.”

Calina gave her a small, sad smile. “I’m glad too.”

The two women fell into silence…and watched the second hand of the clock tick and tick and tick.

 ———

 The warning came 90 minutes later.

Inessa’s voice crackled over the comm line. “Five blacked-out SUVs spotted on the coast road. They’re coming this way - fast!”

Yelena jerked upright. “Shit! Here we go. Sofia, where are we on the treatments?”

She checked the two machines. “Calina’s receiving the last of the plasma substitute. Kira…Kira still has two pints of blood left to clean.”

Yelena hooked a sniper rifle over her shoulder and barked out her orders to the three women in the room, as well as the two listening in on the comms. “Kira, you stay hooked up to that machine as long as you possibly can, you hear me? We’ll try to buy time. Sofia, as soon as Calina is done, disconnect her, then you stay with Kira. Inessa, head to the basement - help Katya get Volkov to the van. Calina will cover you when she’s able. I’ll be on the roof.”

“On it,” came Katya’s reply.

“Heading down now. ETA on the strike team is 2 minutes,” Inessa updated.

Yelena ran out of the room. The moment the door closed behind her, Calina started tugging off the tape holding her cannula in place. “Get this thing out of me,” she hissed to Sofia.

“No, you need to finish,” Sofia said firmly.

“Are the nanites out of my system?” she bit back.

“Yes, but you need the rest of the plasma transfusion. If you stop now, your blood volume will be low and your blood pressure could plummet.”

Yelena chimed in over the comms. “Listen to her, Calina.”

“No. I’ll take the risk. I need to be out there providing backup.”

When Sofia still didn’t move, Calina took matters into her own hands. She yanked out the cannula. The plasma substitute in the tubing started leaking on the floor but Calina ignored it. She got to her feet, bracing herself on the arm of the chair as her head swam.

Sofia curse under her breath and grabbed some gauze to stem the blood leaking from Calina’s arm. “Stubborn zhopa,” she muttered, as she taped it into place.

Calina slipped her arms into the top of her suit and zipped it closed. She primed the Widow’s bites on her wrists, slotted her gun in her thigh holster and grabbed one of the semi-automatic rifles from the weapons cache. Then she paused in the doorway. She looked back at the other two women in the room and gave them a tight nod. “Stay safe.”

“You too,” Kira replied.

“We’ll see you in the van,” Sofia said.

Calina nodded again then took off running. She could hear the distant crunch of gravel as the cars barrelled up the long driveway. Then a muffled pop-pop-pop, as Yelena fired on them from her sniper’s nest on the roof. She must have hit a tire, because there was the sound of a crash as a car spun and collided with something.

Five SUVs, with four-to-five men per vehicle, meant a strike team of at least 20. Possibly 25.

Not the worst case scenario. Six Widows could easily take them on.

But one of those six was still hooked up to a plasmapheresis machine. One was standing guard, and another two were securing an asset.

That left just Calina and Yelena.

Two Widows to stem the tide of two dozen aggressors.

Calina reached the second floor and used the butt of her rifle to smash out the glass from the small window at the front of the property. Then she crouched down, her sights fixed on the bend in the driveway - the bend the convoy would be rounding any second now.

She took a deep, calming breath, and tried to ignore the slight dizziness the action caused.

Two against 20.

Piece of cake.

 ———

 “KATYA, INESSA, ARE YOU IN THE VAN? DO YOU HAVE VOLKOV” Yelena’s shout was barely audible over the gun fire. She’d taken up a spot a few windows down from Calina after sniping the men fleeing from the crashed vehicle. They currently had the occupants of two of the other SUVs pinned down at the front of the mansion, but the whereabouts of the other two cars - and the teams of men inside - were unknown.

It was worrying Calina...but not as much as their immediate situation. There were eight men outside exchanging gun fire with them. At the moment they were trapped behind their cars - nowhere to go but into a spray of bullets.

But Calina and Yelena were running low on those.

“Negative!” Katya responded. “There are at least ten assailants in the house. They’re between us and the garage.”

Shit. The missing teams had infiltrated the mansion somehow.

This was bad. Very bad.

They needed to get out of there.

Now. 

“New objective,” Yelena yelled. “If you can’t extract Volkov safely, kill him. Your freedom is the top priority.”

“Got it.”

Yelena swapped her gun for the tablet and updated the other Widows on what the footage showed. “There are three men in the kitchen, two have entered the living room. Two are coming upstairs to us and the rest are heading towards the med bay.”

She tossed the tablet to the floor, holstered her gun, then called across the room to Calina. “Cover me. I’m going to deal with these assholes out front.”

“What?” Calina yelled. “How?”

Yelena hooked her leg out the window frame and winked at Calina, “Trust me.”

Then she disappeared. 

Calina laid down covering fire as Yelena hit the ground and rolled, but within seconds her rifle clicked empty. But it didn’t matter - the men weren’t firing on Yelena. They started chasing her instead as she bolted around the side of the house. They must have been under orders to retrieve rather than kill.

Calina threw down her rifle and prepared to follow Yelena out the window. But just as she grabbed the sides of the frame there was a massive explosion outside, and the blast wave rocked the house. The ceiling rained plaster and all the glassware in the ornate display cabinet to Calina’s left shattered.

“What the hell was that?” Calina shouted down the comms.

“Someone must have tripped the mines I planted,” Katya yelled. Then grunted. A thud sounded, then there was the familiar crackle of a Widow’s bites.

“It was me,” Yelena responded. She sounded slightly winded. “I led those idiots right through the tripwire. I’m on my way to the medbay.”

“I’m coming too,” Calina called. She jumped out the window and hit the gravel below. She absorbed the landing on bent legs and rolled to soften it, but she still felt a jolt through her recently injured knee.

“You’ll have to go through the house - the path around the side is nothing but flames now,” Yelena said.

“Understood.”

Calina unholstered her gun and slowly eased open the front door. She swung into the foyer, gun outstretched as she cleared the four corners of the room.

Empty.

She made her way - crouched and silent - through the next door and into the living space.

Not so empty.

Two men in black combat armour and grease paint were at the far end of the room. She shot the closest one in the head and he dropped to the ground in an instant. The other spun and fired at her. She dove to the ground behind the sofa. She felt a bite of pain in her side as she landed, but ignored it. She could hear the man stalking towards her so she detached one of the taser discs from her wristband and slid it across the oak floor into his path. Bolts of neon blue lighting erupted from the device and latched onto the mans right leg. He seized as the voltage pierced through his body.

Calina jumped to her feet and ran passed him, following the sound of gunfire deeper in the mansion.

“Katya and I made it to the garage,” Inessa said over the comms. “But we lost Volkov.”

“Shit,” Yelena responded.

“It gets worse. We heard him call in for reinforcements - apparently there’s a second wave of strike teams on standby just off the highway. They’re on their way, so you guys have to get out of the house NOW!”

Calina raced down the corridor and rounded the corner at the end - where she almost collided with another assailant. She ducked under his swinging arm and pounded her fist into his side. They exchanged a volley of hits and kicks in the narrow space, Calina falling to the ground after a brutal punch to the face. But she used it to her advantage - she grabbed the knife from her boot and struck upwards, impaling the man in the gap in his armour between his abdomen and thigh and puncturing his femoral artery.  He collapsed to his knees and she followed up with a stab to his neck. He hit the floor face first and she crawled passed him and staggered to her feet.

Her cheek was throbbing and her her knee was on fire. She was also getting more and more light-headed, and she assumed she was feeling the effects of her aborted plasma transfusion.

She staggered down the hallway just in time to see the last of three assailants crumple to the floor in a pile of his slain teammates. The sound of gunfire coming from the medbay in front of him stopped, then the yelling began.

“Kira, no!”

“Yes. You have to go!”

“What’s going on?” Calina asked, stepping over the bodies and into the room. Three women whipped around to face her. Sofia looked distraught. Yelena looked angry.

And Kira looked…sad. “Calina,” she said. “You have to get out of here. Take these two and RUN!”

She was still hooked up to the machine. Which meant the treatment hadn’t finished. Calina realised the implications straight away and she met Kira’s eyes with horror.

Kira nodded. “I still have the nanites in my system. If I go with you, they’ll track us. If I run on my own, they’ll find me.”

“We’ll come for you, you know we will,” Yelena pleaded. “We’ll-”

“No, Yelena. I won’t go back to them - even temporarily. I can’t do it. I won’t.”

Inessa’s voice came through the comms. “You guys have to leave NOW! We’re in the van on the coast road - head out back and down the hill and meet us there. The second wave are coming up the driveway. They’ll be there in seconds. MOVE!”

Kira unhooked herself from the machine and grabbed the belt of grenades from the table of weapons. She pulled the pin on the first one and held the trigger. “I’m letting go of this in 90 seconds, Yelena. You’re either in the house when that happens or not - you decide. But I’m not leaving.”

Yelena paused for a split second before nodding. She grabbed Kira around the neck and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. Then she turned and ran. Sofia quickly followed.

Calina lingered for another moment, her eyes locked on Kira’s.

She didn’t know the other Widow well - they were different ages, and went through training at different times. But in this moment, she saw herself in the other Widow. She understood Kira’s decision, and recognised the conviction the other woman felt.

She too would rather die by her own hand, than risk being under someone’s control again.

She nodded to Kira, and received one in return.

Then she turned and fled.

She’d just made it out of the back door when she heard the sound of several cars pulling up to the front of the house.

And she’d just reached the bottom of the garden when the force of the blast wave from the explosion behind her lifted her off her feet.

She tumbled to the ground and rolled down the steep hill that led to the coast road. When she stopped, she heard someone shout her name, the syllables muffled as her ears struggled to recover from the sound of the detonation. She felt a set of hands grab her under the arms and pull her to her feet. “Calina, get up! Come on!”

It was Katya.

She staggered onto the road, held up by the other Widow. The van was idling on the deserted road, the back doors open. She clambered inside and collapsed onto the floor with a groan. The doors slammed shut and then they were moving, speeding away from what remained of their home.

“Is everyone okay?” Inessa called from the driver’s seat.

There was a chorus of positive replies from the three other women, but Calina couldn’t seem to find the strength to answer. She felt…strange…as if she was in a tunnel, the light around her slowly narrowing to a far off point.

“Calina,” Sofia called, panic suddenly in her voice. “You’re bleeding!”

“Wha-?” Calina whispered, struggling to keep her eyes open.

Sofia’s hands came down on Calina’s side and she pressed firmly.

Calina reared up as the shock of the pain jolted her from her daze. She looked down to see the right side of her suit was dark and wet with blood. It spilled from between Sofia’s fingers.

“What’s going on?” Yelena yelled from the front of the vehicle.

“Calina’s been shot,” Sofia answered.

She’d been shot.

She remembered the bite of pain as the man in the living room fired at her.

Then she remembered nothing at all…as the world went black.

———

CHAPTER 11 

@hollandorks @yanna-banana @stilldreaming666 @tearoseart-blog​ @acharliecoxedfan @freckledbabyyy​ @chezagnes

[oscar-piastri]

sporting rumours might be my favourite kind because they can be so so ridiculous sometimes. this rumour feels like one of those ones that a random account on twitter or instagram puts out and other people pick up on it to act like they're in the know or whatever but they're all just circulating lies they made up. farrell? I'll believe it when I see it!

I don't know a lot about this programme tbh, I had only heard of it just today but I know enough about the sport I guess? odds are not really in his favour so that might cheer you up?

right???? the welsh team had to delay their roster announcement because he called them to say he wouldn't be there. it doesn't feel great that he left them scrambling like this. he also told his gloucester teammates around the same time he told gatland. I'm actually not sure any of them knew his intentions beforehand. maybe he owes them nothing but I also think it would have cost him nothing to inform both coaches of the possibility, so they could more easily plan for his departure

i find rumours funny until it's about my faves then i turned into a ball of stress and trust issues bejfbezfe. i've seen an interview with farrell and the way he talked? man will stay where he is forever, he loves his club too much

damn no but they're teammates, you spend a lot of time together, you have to tell them!!! just for a good cohesion and also for the team to find someone to replace you????? like melvyn jaminet announced his sudden move from toulouse to toulon 3 months after the beginning of the season, 2 years before the end of his contract. it was sudden af especially after denying it many times. And even though the staff had to be involved for legal reasons and money, he told his teammates he was gonna probably leave before it was official. because they're teammates, friends and also because he felt like he had to be honest. i really dislike stuff like this, when someone leaves and doesnt tell the team and stuff, it's a team, it's a collective thing.........

[ukrfeminism]

3 minute read

A teenager has been sentenced to three years in prison for raping a girl when she was just 12.

Myles Harris was 18 when he assaulted the girl at Gala Policies park in Galashiels, in the Scottish Borders, last year, the High Court in Edinburgh was told.

Judge Lord Scott said Harris could have expected to receive a longer term in prison had he not been so young at the time of the offence.

He said because Harris pleaded guilty, his sentence would be reduced by a year and a half.

And, Lord Scott said, the starting point for the sentence was “less than it would have been” had the Guidelines for the Sentencing of Young People not applied.

The court heard Harris, who has since turned 19, had “no memory” of the offence as he was heavily intoxicated at the time.

Defence counsel Lili Prais explained Harris had started misusing substances aged 12 and this escalated as he grew older.

She said he then fell in with a bad crowd and went on make some “extremely poor” life choices, leading to the rape on January 16 last year.

She told the court: “He is devastated by the actions of that night. He accepts full responsibility.

“He has no memory of the incident. He had consumed substances.

“He no longer misuses drugs or alcohol. He is no longer associating with negative peer groups.”

Ms Prais said Harris has moved to Canterbury, Kent, to stay with his grandparents and is willing to participate in any programme the court feels could help his rehabilitation.

“There is no better example of capacity to show change,” she said.

Judge Scott said a custodial sentence was justified considering the seriousness of the offence.

“You raped a child when you were 18 and she was only 12,” he said. “You knew her age.”

The judge went on to refer to a victim impact assessment which said the child Harris raped continues to suffer “serious” and “ongoing” effects from her experience on a “daily” basis.

He also told Harris that being under the influence of drink or drugs at the time of the offence made no difference to his deliberations.

“I must make clear the usage of alcohol or drugs provides you with no excuse or mitigation at all,” he said.

Harris, who admitted the offence and appeared in the court by video-link from custody, was told his three-year sentence would be backdated to the day he was taken into custody last month.

He was also placed on the sex offenders register indefinitely.

[coochiequeens]

If members of your group are regularly spared jail time your group isn't really oppressed

A transgender woman who appeared on Welsh TV documentary about her transition launched brutal attacks against two girlfriends but walks free as court is told she would be 'vulnerable' in prison

April Welsh, 37 from Caerphilly, Wales, brutally beat two girlfriends in 2020

She was spared prison after her lawyer said she would be 'vulnerable in prison

By OLIVER PRICE 

PUBLISHED: 07:30 EDT, 17 October 2023 | 

A transgender woman who appeared on a Welsh TV documentary about her transition has walked free despite launching brutal attacks against two girlfriends, after a court was told she would be 'vulnerable' inside prison.

April Welsh, 37, drunkenly throttled one partner and pushed her to the floor before punching and kicking her on January 3, 2020, a court heard.

The repeat domestic abuser from Blackwood, Caerphilly then attacked a second girlfriend just weeks later - kicking her in the face after knocking her to the floor.

Welsh had appeared on a TV programme about her transition in 2019 - and months later went on to attack the two women.

Prosecutor Roger Griffiths said the first attack happened after Welsh and her victim had been out together in Cardiff. But the defendant later became 'rowdy' and 'drunk'.

But after the pair after returning 20 miles to Blackwood, Welsh wanted to continue drinking in a pub - but her girlfriend of two years had work the next day.

Mr Griffiths said Welsh's victim went home but was locked out. She then found Welsh drinking red wine in the town.

When Welsh returned home at 2.15am she banged on the doors before 'running towards' the victim in a rage.

He said: 'She rang the doorbell and the victim went to answer. When she opened the door, the defendant ran at her, put her hands around her neck putting her on the floor.

'She was then punched and kicked and was called a dirty s***. The victim was sat on the bed too scared to move.

'It was only when she heard the defendant snoring that she left and went to a friend's address for help.'

Welsh pleaded guilty to assault occasioning actual bodily harm for the attack in January 2020.

The the court heard she has a previous domestic violence conviction, against her new partner following this attack.

Harry Baker, defending, said: 'The injuries were not that bad although the incident must have been very unpleasant.'

He added that Welsh 'expressed remorse having got involved in yet another incident' and said she would be 'vulnerable' if sent to prison.

Judge Hywel James told Welsh: 'You had been drinking heavily and in fairness to your victim, she had sought to assist you during that day.

'I've seen photographs of the injuries sustained and they show cuts, bruises and a swollen ear.

'I have taken into account that two months after this you were involved in a similar incident with a new partner.

'That is a matter which has been dealt with but it shows a pattern of offending.'

Welsh was hand a sentence of 21 weeks suspended for 12 months, meaning she will not go to prison unless she breaks the law again in that time.

Welsh previously told how she had hidden the fact she was a female for more than 20 years after being brought up as a boy.

April, who has two children, told the story of her transition to S4C programme Merch Fel Fi in 2019.

She said: 'From the age of four or five I would lock myself in the bathroom and dress female, I just had this constant urge to be myself.

'As cliché as it sounds I thought it was just me, I didn't know who to talk to or who to explain it to. I had never heard anything about being transgender.

'I didn't want it to be revealed. I thought I would go to prison, I thought I could be rejected by my family.

'I played football and rugby at a young age but it didn't last very long. As soon as I started getting involved in something I would retreat as I thought they would know. To go in a locker room - it was horrendous.'

She came out as transgender in 2014 but suffered adverse effects from having female hormones pumped into her body and ended up in hospital for more than two weeks in 2016 after suffering seizures.

She said: 'I thought I was going to die. It was meant to be the key moment of my life but it almost killed me.'

[ewan-mo]

Mo had a dream

20th September 2023

The youngest student at the workshop; 2 months old. Son of Brenda, Community MH nurse, he is just 2 months old. He’s called Zion. And very advanced, of course.

At breakfast today I decided to have avocado. Because I could, because it’s good for me, and because we normally eat quite a bit of it at home.

Our menu here tends to be based on common Ugandan everyday foods, hence yesterday’s liver and cooking banana and today’s avocado.

Ewan began the day’s programme with a snowball exercise. 2-3 people discuss first, then they join another group to become 6 and so on. Each time the group has to decide on its ‘top 3’ – in this case, their top three things learnt as a result of the partnership with Jamie’s Fund. Great to read their results. I was not surprised, but I was moved, to hear mention of loving our patients, and other similar sentiments 

Long ago in Malawi, I was surprised and upset to find that the PrivateNotForProfit hospitals, which were mostly faith based, wouldn’t care for any patients with mental illness. While in government service we were developing community mental health care and reducing the population of the mental hospital, the mission hospitals were saying “We don’t do this.”

We asked a question of the Christian Medical Fellowship in UK as to why should this be? That led to a consultation: “Should faith based health institutions provide mental health services?”

An international conference followed in 1998: Developing Mental Health: a Challenge to the Churches. We brought participants from five continents - mental health workers, their managers and their bishops, and had a wonderful week in a conference centre in England. 

By then I had a dream: that faith-based hospitals, especially in low-income countries, would develop community mental health services, and offer love and commitment to this group of people who are so often stigmatised, rejected and outcast.

Working in Jamie’s Fund in Uganda, my dream has come true. Our young colleagues here have a shining vision to make things better in mental health, and they are transforming lives. They also love to learn and we are having such a good week with them.

Second on today’s agenda I presented Trauma Matters, prepared by our good friend Helen, a Liverpool psychiatrist. We were all looking forward to her first visit to Uganda – and so was she, but late in the day illness stopped that happening. Interesting presenting other people’s powerpoint! But I already knew that she and I had were of the same tribe, had concerns and values in common, and that it was a privilege to present her work. 

After lunch our colleague Sudaat told us about a new syndrome “Shake Shake”. Every so often these slightly odd presentations crop up, often in boarding schools, looking like some weird neurological disease. As far as I know, they never are, but are usually due to underlying stress and the girls ‘catch’ it from each other. You won’t be surprised to hear that in ShakeShake the girls’ legs shake.

Some of our colleagues had asked for screening tools to give them a straightforward and speedy way to assess those patients in medical clinics who come with physical symptoms but appear to have nothing wrong with them. So we talked about screening principles and got them doing translations of one such tool into local languages. Much hilarity ensued. Keeping control was like herding cats.  

We took a group photo with the banner of the the Diversity Foundation behind the group.  Diversity Travel have been very generous in their support to Jamie’s Fund and have paid about half the cost of this work shop for which we are very grateful..

Ewan enjoys data. Don’t drown in data, turn it into information!  Kuule from Bwindi and Lamet from Mukono, both very able and visionary mental health clinicians, joined Ewan to show how it could be done. Kuule and Ewan have recently spent a considerable time preparing a research paper on this very subject, which shows how the number of patients attending mental health clinics around Bwindi has increased as more clinics have been opened as a result of training of clnical staff  in basic mental health care, sponsored by JF.  The only officially required figures are for the clinic attendances rather than how an individual attends.  Just looking at the number of attendances doesn't tell you about the size of pool of patients or if individuals are attending regularly for follow up. You need this to be able to manage your service effectively.

Supper as usual and early bed.

[sequinsmile-x]

I Know the End - The End is Here

She wishes they’d met earlier, that they’d had more time. Meeting him here, at the end, was cruel even by the universes standards.

A Hotchniss on the run AU, told in 3 parts

Part 3/3

Series Master List

Words: 2k

Warnings: Major character death, canon typical violence, references to trauma/PTSD, criminal activity

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He sighs as he watches the final flames die out, the smell of smoke and burning permeating the air, catching in the back of his throat. 

The building was derelict, an old warehouse in the middle of nowhere. A place that had once been the workplace of hundreds of people was now a shell, all but burnt to the ground. 

“Agent Morgan?” 

Derek turns, fixing a polite smile on his face as he greets the local fire chief, reaching out and shaking his hand. 

“Cheif Johnson,” he says, casting a look back at the warehouse, “what are your findings?” 

“The fire does seem to have been started on purpose, but it spread much faster than anyone could have predicted,” he sighs, looking at the building himself, “whoever was is unlikely to have been able to escape, even if it was just lit as a decoy like you and your team suggested.” 

“Have you found the bodies yet?” 

Chief Johnson shakes his head, “Not yet, but my men will let you know when they do.” 

“Thank you,” Derek says, waiting until the other man is no longer looking at him before his smile slips off of his face, sighing as he looks back at the warehouse. “Damn it Hotch.” 

___

Three Months Earlier 

“Are you sure it was him?” 

Derek groans as he clenches his fists at his sides, his eyes stern as they meet Spencer’s. 

“Positive,” he chokes out, “he looked at me, he hesitated. It was Hotch.”

“And you said he was with a woman?” JJ asks, her eyebrows furrowing as she leans back in her chair, looking around the conference room at the rest of the team.

“Yes, I have no idea who she was though,” Derek replies, sitting down at the roundtable. 

“I do,” Penelope says as she walks in, plugging her laptop in so it connects to the large screen in the room, a picture of a brunette woman appears on the screen, “Her name is Emily Prentiss.” 

“How did you find this?” Dave asks, his expression somber. 

“I tracked the CCTV,” she explains, “once Morgan said he saw Hotch I followed them until I found a decent image, then I put her picture through the database.” 

“Would she have any idea what he’s done? Is there a chance she’s in danger?” Derek asks, and he turns sharply to look at Dave when he laughs. 

“Danger? Come on Morgan, this is Hotch we’re talking about.”

“He killed a man.”

“Yeah, who killed his son and ex-wife,” Dave replies, any further comment cut off by Penelope. 

“She’s not in danger,”  she says, stopping the familiar argument from going any further, “her file is heavily redacted, with a bit more time I’ll be able to break through, but what I do know is not only is she drop dead gorgeous, but she’s an ex-Interpol agent presumed dead, her car was found burnt beyond recognition. She killed her target without getting the order.” 

Derek sighs, falling into silence before he looks back at the technical analyst. “Now we’ve seen them, can we continue to track them using your programmes?” 

Penelope clears her throat, hesitating before she answers. “Yes, but-”

“Then do it, we need to find them.” 

“Morgan,” Dave says, sighing, “Do we really need to do this? We found him by chance, no one knows she’s alive. We could just leave them to it.” 

“He killed a man,” Derek repeats, holding his hand up to stop any further protests, “regardless of his reasoning, that is what happened and then he ran. We need to find him, it’s the right thing to do,” he looks at the screen, the photos of Aaron and Emily next to each other, “that’s what he taught us.” 

___

She’s packing furiously, the few belongings they had thrown haphazardly into their bags. He watches as the tension rolls off of her, her shoulders tight with it.

“Em-”

“We’ve got to get going, Aaron,” she says, cutting over him as she continues to throw things into their bags, “You said yourself they’ll find us.”

He sighs, reaching out for her, his hands on his shoulders as he turns her around, pulling her into a hug she immediately melts into. 

Aaron often wondered how long she’d been like this. Strong, fiercely independent almost to a fault. He thought it must have been longer than she had been on the run. She’d told him about her childhood, how she’d always felt alone. Their secrets spilling out to each other in cheap motel rooms across the country, trying to take in as much of each other as possible. 

Despite his best efforts he had fallen in love with her. She made him feel like he had during the early years of his relationship with Haley, something he was sure he wouldn’t ever be able to replicate. 

“They aren’t going to in the next five minutes,” he says, guiding her to sit down, gathering her into his side, “you can take a minute to breathe.” 

She leans her head on his shoulder, “Are you sure they just won’t leave it be, just…let us go?” 

He wishes he could console her, that he had less confidence in the people he would have once called his family. But he knew them, he’d trained them. They knew how he valued honesty, the morals he used to structure his life around spreading to all of them as they worked together. 

There was an irony, he thought, to the fact he had created his own downfall. 

“They are very good at what they do. They know me, they’ll find us again.”

She smiles sadly at him, her hand reaching out for his, linking their fingers together to comfort herself as much as she wanted to comfort him. 

“You have a lot of faith in them.” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles dryly, shaking his head, “they used to work for me.” 

Her lips curl upwards even further, a spark of mischief setting off in her eyes. “You have a lot of faith in your ability as a team leader.” 

Aaron narrows his eyes playfully at her, “I was very good at what I did,” he replies, tugging her even closer to him, “I would have even been able to keep you in line.” 

She laughs and wraps her arms around his neck, kissing him quickly, “I don’t think there is a universe where you could ever dream of keeping me in line Agent Hotchner.” 

Their laughter fades, the air around them becoming thick again. “So what do we do now?” He asks, his thumb running back and forth over her wrist. 

“We carry on running until we have nowhere else to run,” she answers, flashing him what she hopes is a reassuring smile.

She knows she’s failed when he tries to do the same before he leans in and kisses her desperately, putting everything they cannot, and would not, say into it. 

___

The days pass by quickly, a sense of inevitably in the air. She hates it, that the closest thing that had found to peace was gone, shattered as quickly as they had created it.

She knows she could leave him, he suggested it at least once a day, but she can’t. Can’t return to the lonely life she had been living before him. She can’t leave him to be caught, knowing it would happen without her. 

The end was coming, lingering on the horizon for them like a ghost. A dawn they never wanted to see. 

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, his hand running up and down her bare spine. She was all but laying on top of him, wanting to soak in as much of him as she could. 

She raises her head, resting her chin on his chest so she could look up at him.  “I think…I think I might be in love with you,” she says, her voice wavering. And despite everything they’ve told each other, the things they’d admitted they’d done, this feels like the biggest divulgence of all. The words are heavy in the air. “And I can’t,” she chokes out, “we can’t. This…I know the way this ends,” she says bitterly, shaking her head at herself as she wipes a tear from her cheek, “and it’s not with us happy and together somewhere.” 

She finally looks up at him, not sure what she’d find. The adoration in his eyes surprises her, and makes her breath catch in her chest. It makes it worse, she thinks, that he clearly feels the same way too. 

“I think I’m in love with you too,” he says, pulling her in for a kiss, “I like to think, in another life, where we made different choices, where less horrible things happened to us, we might have had a chance.” 

She chuckles dryly, biting her lower lip to stop herself from crying. “I like to think that too.” 

She kisses him, and as he rolls them over, pressing her into the motel mattress, she lets herself get lost in it. She imagines a life for them where they could have this forever. 

___

It’s Aaron who spots the SUVs, the familiarity of them making his heart drop into his stomach. He rushes into the gas station where she was buying snacks for them, having been waiting outside for her. 

He finds her in the candy aisle, something that would usually make him smile. “Em-”

“Do you want M&M’s or peanut butter cups? Or…” she turns to look at him, her smile slipping off her face when she sees the tension in his. “Aaron?”

“They are here,” he says, nodding over his shoulder, and she looks outside to see the lineup of SUVs, people she doesn’t recognise but knows he does interviewing people on the opposite side of the street. 

“Shit.” She says, pulling at his arm to move him out of the way of the window. “We need to do something, distract them so we can get out of town.” 

She looks around the gas station, there’s a desperation to her gaze that has him grabbing her hand, linking their fingers together as he squeezes. He wants to remember how it feels to have her hand in his in case this was really the end of it all. 

“I have an idea,” she says, her head tilting towards the gas canisters, “but I don’t think you’re going to like it.” 

___

They slip past the team, something he knows he would never have been able to do without her, her past as a spy coming in handy for what feels like one last time.

The warehouse she drove them to is abandoned, an old factory where clothes were once made, somewhere that used to be the almost derelict town’s main place of work. 

“Are you sure about this?” He asks, watching as she pours gasoline on the ground, the smell burning the back of his throat. She looks up at him, blowing out a steady breath as she drops the empty canister on the ground.

“No,” she chokes out, “Not at all,” she reaches for him, her fingers idly fixing the collar of his polo shirt, “but I’ve disappeared before, I can do it again.” 

Aaron hears sirens, in the distance, slowly getting louder as the people chasing them make their final approach. It strikes him as odd, and a small part of him wonders if it was the team sending him a warning, giving him one final chance. He watches as she gets out the book of matches she’d taken from the motel when they checked out, removing one of them from the packet. 

“Em-”

He says it so softly, it makes her choke on a noise she is sure was once meant to be a laugh. She knows what he wants to say, it’s written all over his face. 

“Don’t,” she says, cutting him off, her hand drifting to his neck, her thumb at his jawline, “don’t say it,” her smile shakes despite her attempts to stop it, “I know,” she says, her voice wavering, “me too.” 

He smiles down at her and nods, his hand at her cheek, his thumb tracing her lower lip. 

“You ready?” He asks, his voice soft. Almost too gentle for the moment they found themselves in. She smiles up at him, pressing a kiss to his thumb. 

“Yes.” 

She lights the match.

-x-

Let me know what you think! <3

-x-

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[thechronicpaingame]

Dealing with an OAB following a UTI (Mictoryl no longer works, urology referral pending) – I used to study microbiology and would love to know more about how you found out that you have embedded/chronic UTI. Also how treatment is going ☺️

I'm so so sorry this is so late! I don't check here neatly as often as I should.

I did biomed! I'll explain as best I can but honestly my brain isn't what it used to be these days.

I think the simple science of it is that the bladder isn't sterile, despite what's been said before. Some of the bacteria in there can be helpful, neutral, and some, in the case of embedded UTI, causative of symptoms. I know micro says it has to be above I think it's like 10/100K to be a UTI (culture wise, I can't remember the actual units) but it's been shown that bacteria below the standardised threshold can also be problematic to some / causative of symptoms!). Which is a problem when people are having "negative" dipsticks & cultures - because the UTI diagnosing methods are so so so outdated.

The clinic I go to here, in England, they do a fresh urine sample and count the cells immediately. They track this with each visit, but alongside this they have a very structured symptom report as well. So diagnosis and treatment is based on the entire picture.

The belief is that a standard 3-5 day course of antibiotics when you initially have your first UTI / symptoms, actually is absolutely not long enough to effectively treat it. So you can feel better, and then it happens again a month or however long down the line, and think you're getting repeated infections & repeated utis, when actually it's highly likely it is the same initial infection repeatedly rearing up!

I know the doctor who works on embedded infections in the US uses a microgen test to see which bacteria to treat, but the uk clinic (as I mentioned earlier, believe it's not really helpful as you can't truly pinpoint the bacteria which are causing symptoms). So the UK clinic will try broad spectrum to begin with, and as you go on with them they tweak and work out which antibiotic is most effective for you.

Treatment is obviously incredibly harsh, high dose long term antibiotics, but it's much safer resistance wise than lots and lots of short courses. We're also obviously recommended to look after our gut and flora whilst in treatment (thrush being my main side effect personally). I did have a skin reaction to one of the antibiotics we tried. But it really is trial and error.

I will have been with the clinic coming up 2 years next month. Personally I haven't seen a change, but I'm just about to try a new combination of antibiotics and a lot of people I speak to tend to say it was around 2 years they start to see real change / improvement. I guess if you think I got my first UTI at 22 and I'm now 34 - not so quick or simple to treat (I am actually now considered a "hard to treat" patient but I also have several other health issues which make things confusing) but I know there's plenty of patients who do amazingly like straight off the bat.

I was incredibly "lucky" in that my urologist when I was younger knew about this clinic and research and she initially referred me. Me being young and naive didn't stick with the programme and left the NHS clinic (I kick myself every day for that, but I was young and wanted to believe I'd be fine). So now I go to their private clinic as was impossible to get back to the NHS one. But I consider it an investment into myself.

I'm sorry this is so long! I just want to try and make sure I cover as much as I can remember to because I really want people to know this who get diagnosed with IC and OAB that it could possibly be an embedded UTI and that there COULD be treatment to rid it. I know how awful it is to live with, and honestly I've been in some dark places because of my overall health and impact it has on my life. If I'd been told I had IC and treatment didn't work and to just live with it, I'm not sure I would've done. So I really want people to know there could be another option.

If there's anything else please do ask!!! I can likely get more scientific info from my letters (I'm just writing this now from my bed before I sleep!)

Good luck with everything! I hope you find some comfort no matter what happens and which way you go with everything ♥️

[deepdrearn]

Long Covid & Recovery

I got an ask on something I wrote on long covid and I realized I had A Lot to say about it. So I wrap it in a long post here, who knows someday to someone else’s benefit.

I got covid for the first time in April. I coughed, was tired and experienced shortness of breath. But no fever, so (in typical Dutch fashion) I figured it wasn’t that bad. Yeah ok, it took me two hours to do my morning routine and then I had to recover, but apart from feeling like I was training for a marathon, nothing wrong. It took me a few weeks before I noticed that my fatigue was getting worse every day. Oops. 

Right before before I had covid, I casually biked 100km in weekends, untrained. After, I could not even do 10 minutes. The majority of my recovery has happened in about six months. At this point I am still not 100% there but I am good enough to work on my graduation thesis again and start training for a winter triathlon in March. 

What follows now is a summary of my lessons learned:

1) Brain recovery takes longer than fitness. Although at first, the brain recovery was much aligned with the body recovery, eventually the brain recovery went slower. I have read that this is because as soon as you are able to move your body more, your brain gets more stimuli: in other words it is much more overloaded quickly than your body. So that’s normal and it happens a lot!

2) Professional help helps. I was lucky enough to get this relatively late into the pandemic, so programmes for long covid patients were already in place. I was also lucky enough that my GP immediately send me to a post-covid recovery programme where I got a physical therapist. She helped me find the right pace of recovery, as I had a very hard time accepting that 10 minutes of biking, or 30 minutes of emailing was my limit. She would tell me again and again not to push it, for it would set me back even more. 

3) Rest is a skill. In the first months, I lied down every 2 hours to make sure I'd take enough rest. When going somewhere I'd take the car so I could nap in the car. I rested.

4) Checking in with the body is a skill. I never did it before. I was the king of Pushing Through. Pushing through a marathon, tendonitis, sleep deprivation, exams. I had made it my skill. But now I had a body with such fragile limits, that got worse with every push. I had to learn to really check in and feel my body. To do so, I meditated daily. Sometimes more than an hour per day (in sessions of 20 minutes). I am so glad I learned this and I still check in.

5) There is no quick fix for long covid. My physical therapist had told me that with their programme, most peoples recovery really starts somewhere between 3-6 month. After 3 months the first improvements started, and writing emails did no longer take two hours. But well, most of the things I did were still a mess and I had a really hard time keeping an overview. I had no idea who I told about it or not, so I probably told some people many times how messy I was, and forgot to update others. 

6) I got my booster vaccination two months ago and that was a big push for my recovery. At that point I was doing ok. I was studying again, but I needed all weekend to recover from that. After the booster, it felt like a big setback. After 10 days, however, I started feeling ‘normal’ for the first time since April. I am not a scientific study and I lack the medical lingo to look for studies but I’m pretty sure it helped me. A Lot.

[skippyv20]

Anti monarchy groups given ok to protest at Coronation

Coronation protests allowed, security minister Tom Tugendhat says

By Oliver Slow & Dominic Casciani

BBC News

3 May 2023, 10:43 BST Updated 13 minutes ago

Anti-monarchy groups are being told they have the right to protest but not to disrupt others

Anti-monarchy groups will be allowed to protest at the King’s Coronation on Saturday, security minister Tom Tugendhat has insisted.

His comments came after one group planning a demonstration on the Coronation route was warned of new laws banning “serious disruption”.

Republic, which campaigns to abolish the monarchy, accused the Home Office of sending an intimidatory message.

It says police chiefs have accepted its demonstration is lawful and peaceful.

The Public Order Act came into effect on Wednesday - and days beforehand, officials from the Home Office’s Police Powers Unit wrote two letters to Republic to list how it had tightened laws on the right to protest.

Republic is co-ordinating demonstrations across the UK and has held talks with the Metropolitan Police over a protest in London’s Trafalgar Square, as the King’s procession passes.

The group hopes up to 1,700 supporters will gather around the statue of Charles I, who was beheaded in 1649, and hold yellow placards declaring “Not My King”.

A Home Office letter sent on 28 April does not mention the protest, but the unnamed official tells Republic: “I would be grateful if you could publicise and forward this letter to your members who are likely to be affected by these legislative changes.”

Graham Smith, the organisation’s chief, described that letter as “intimidatory”.

He said there had been two constructive face-to-face meetings with Scotland Yard’s public order commander, who had been entirely satisfied that the plan was legal and peaceful.

Mr Smith said: “We have gone through our plans - where we are going to be, what placards we have, and that we have no intention of doing anything disruptive. The police have repeatedly said they have no concerns about our plans and we can turn up and do what we are planning.

“The tone and the anonymity [of the 28 April letter] feels like a passive-aggressive attempt to put us off. I don’t know why the Home Office has sent this, given it’s the police’s job to police. The lawyers were perplexed why it was sent.”

Just Stop Oil protesters jailedWhat does Insulate Britain want?What we know about the CoronationDefending the letter on the BBC’s Today programme, Mr Tugendhat said that anti-monarchy groups have the “liberty that anybody in the United Kingdom has to protest, what they don’t have the liberty to do is to disrupt others”.

He added that the complexity of the security operation for the Coronation was heightened by the presence of foreign leaders.

“It’s perfectly possible that we’re dealing with protest groups that have nothing to do with the UK, but are seeking to protest against a foreign leader who’s visiting, or seeking to make a complaint about something that’s happening hundreds or thousands of miles away,” he said.

Mr Tugendhat refused to discuss what actions could be punished at the Coronation “for fear of encouraging people to find loopholes”, but said they were introduced in response to protests in the UK becoming “disruptive” and “intrusive”.

New protest lawsThe 2023 Public Order Act is the government’s second major piece of legislation changing protest laws in under two years.

In 2022 MPs voted to place greater restrictions on public processions if they are too noisy.

The new act goes further:

Protesters who interfere with “key national infrastructure” including roads and railways can face 12 months in jail.Anyone who fixes themselves to an object or building to create an immovable obstacle, a tactic known as “locking on”, could be jailed for six months.The law bans protesters from committing acts of “serious disruption” - meaning demonstrations which prevent people going about their day-to-day activities.Other new offences include up to three years in jail for tunnelling as part of a protest. Police will also have new powers to search people for super-glues and padlocks.The Home Office describes the laws as “sensible and proportionate measures” in response to actions by groups such Just Stop Oil and Insulate Britain that have caused “serious disruption”

Thank you🐼

https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-65466825#