#jenn writes

[castiel]

dreamy drabble day 3: stars

—

dean slid onto the hood of the car next to cas. mimicking the angel, he too tilted his head to gaze at the heavens above them.

“sure is quiet out here,” he remarked, feeling the need to fill the silence with something.

cas hummed. “for some, perhaps.”

“what do you mean?”

“i can hear them,” cas tipped his head towards the sky.

“the stars?” dean asked incredulously.

“mhmm.”

dean looked at cas in awe for a moment. “what do they sound like?”

closing his eyes in thought, cas was quiet. “they’re all different but… a bit like souls. crackling fire and a softer sound on top… almost like tiny bells.”

searching the sky, he couldn’t help but ask. “is there one that sounds like mine?”

when he didn’t hear a response he finally looked over to find cas staring at him.

“none sound as lovely as yours.”

[callsigndragon]

Don't go on that date | Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

A/N: FIRST REQUEST FROM THE PROMPT LIST WHOO! This was longer than intended. Hope you like it @beebslebobs!

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, Rooster's baggage, mentions of alcohol, mentions of food, bit of angst and fluff.

“Sorry, y/n, but I don’t feel the same” Rooster said with a sad smile. “I hope we can still be friends”

He had said that to you two months ago, and it was hard for you to keep him in your life. Rooster was a good friend, and you couldn’t just walk away from him. He was everywhere.

As a bartender of the Hard Deck, you would always be a part of his world, and he would always be around there. Rooster worked now as an instructor in Top Gun, taking Maverick’s place once he left to work on his relationship with Penny. You were bound to see each other almost every day.

Phoenix, one of your best friends, had been there to help you restore your broken heart once Rooster rejected you. It wasn’t easy, you were head over heels for the man. Who wouldn’t? He was practically perfect.

“I just don’t get it” she said, the night you called her crying because Rooster broke your heart. She knocked your door 20 minutes later, holding a back full of sweets, ice-cream, and a box of your favorite pizza. “He’s always talking about you, messaging you when we’re away, heck he even made two students do 200 push-ups because they were saying how hot you were.”

“Nat, he was pretty clear about it. I’ve been torturing myself for months now, trying to confess and for what? I’ve been friend zoned!”

“This is bullshit, I’m telling ya. I’ll keep an eye on him, see what this is all about” she hugged you and gave you a slice of pizza. “Now you gotta eat something”

The next day, Phoenix and Rooster were called for an important and secret mission. They left without many explanations, only knowing that they were still alive from the messages you received every few days.

Two months later, they came back. You almost cried when you saw them entering the bar, smiling at you. You were so excited that you jumped over the bar top, running towards them.

“Damn, this is the kind of welcoming I’ve always wanted” laughed Phoenix, hugging you. You couldn’t help but laugh, too.

You turned towards Rooster, his smile reaching his eyes. “Hello, sweetheart”

You smiled, a few tears welling up to your eyes. He hugged you, harder than ever before, while stroking your hair. “Glad to see you”

You moved away from him, getting inside the bar and giving them two beers. “These ones are on me. Now sit and tell me everything you can about the last two months”

You didn’t notice but Rooster’s eyes looked at you differently. There was a slight adoration in his eyes. His mouth twitched every time you smiled, his own mouth seeming to reciprocate your happiness. But Rooster knew he couldn’t smile at you like that.

He was an absolute idiot.

What he said to you wasn’t true. He didn’t understand the deepness of his feelings towards you but he knew for sure that he wanted you. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were his sweet, precious, happy girl. And he couldn’t allow himself to be with you. He couldn’t destroy you like that.

Life as an aviator wasn’t easy. There was always a possibility of not making it back from a mission, to have a problem with the aircraft in an exercise. To die during an ejection. His own father had died like this. And he didn’t want to see in your eyes the same pain that had killed his mother slowly during years. He didn’t want you to be left with a folded flag and a broken heart. He chose the easy option.

He lied to you.

He saw that same pain in your eyes, but he knew that you would recover eventually. You would move on, forget about him. You would find someone better. You would marry, begin a family. Maybe you would even leave the town and he would never see you again.

That’s when Rooster realized how big a mistake he made.

In those two months he spent away from you, he understood his feelings. He knew when the first text message arrived. Even after being rejected you still wished him to be safe and to come back home in one piece. He wished he could turn back home and ask for forgiveness.

He couldn’t. And he would have to go through Phoenix first, though. She became your protector after you confessed.

Phoenix wasn’t very subtle. Well, she wasn’t trying to be subtle at all. She asked openly why did he reject her when it was obvious that he wanted to be with you.

Let’s just say that it had been two very long months.

Now, you’re here, at the bar. You’re not working tonight, you’re having a few drinks with your friends. Some of the dagger team members arrived to town a few days back. Hangman, Coyote, Payback, Fanboy and Bob are playing darts with you. You totally suck, but is fun to see how everyone tries to cover Hangman’s eyes to stop him from winning. Every single time.

Phoenix and Rooster are sitting by the bar. They seem to be talking about something really important.

“Maybe if you stopped staring at her and actually talked to her, you might have a chance.” says Natasha to Rooster, tired of his eyes following her friend all night.

“You know that’s impossible. I fucked up. I don’t think she would ever look at me that way again”

“You won’t know unless you try, Bradshaw”

“Would you give me a second chance?”

“It’s not me we’re talking about. She has been your friend even after that little stupid brain of yours thought that hurting her now would be easier than whatever the heck you believe is gonna happen in the future. Man, breaking her heart to ‘save her from living without you'? That’s stupid”

“You’ve been scolding me for the past two months. I don’t think you gave anything more to say about it” he says, voice tired about the topic. He fucked up and he can’t gain you back. That’s it.

“You’re literally an idiot” she says, Rooster turning around to ask for another beer. Phoenix looks at Coyote and nods, making the man smile. If Rooster doesn’t want to confess… they’ll make him confess.

“Hey y/n!” says Coyote, putting an arm around your shoulders. “I have a proposal”

“Do tell me, Coyote”

“I was thinking that maybe, and just maybe, we could go out this weekend. There’s a new restaurant I’ve been wanting to go”

You can see Hangman, Bob, Payback and Fanboy’s eyes moving towards Rooster. You stop yourself from looking to. He said that he wanted to be friends. Friends. And if you want to go on a date with Coyote, you’ll go. But do you really want to go?

“What do you say?”

“Oh, yeah. I’d like to” you smile, turning around to continue watching the game.

A few meters away, someone has lost his smile. “Did you hear that?” Rooster asks, leaving his beer on the bar.

“What, Coyote asking y/n out? Yeah, I heard it” she answers, a smile on her lips.

That makes Rooster frown. “You seem to like the idea of Coyote dating her”

“I told him to ask her out, actually”

“You did what?” he turns completely in his stool, looking at her with widened eyes.

“C’mon, Rooster. She has been moping around for two months because of you. She needs to go out, live a little. Maybe even get la-“

“Do not finish that sentence”

“You said you didn’t care, and I want my friend to be happy” she shrugs.

“I didn’t say I don’t care, I said I can’t fix this”

“Have you asked her?” she stands up, tired of Rooster’s pessimistic attitude. He remains silent. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You don’t ask her to forgive you, but you don’t want her to be with someone else. That’s egotistical, you know?”

He stands too, looking down at her. “What do you want me to do? Beg her?”

“Yes! Do it! Because if you don’t do anything now she’s going to be kissing Coyote in a few days” she sees something snap inside him. The realization. He leaves her without a word, walking in your direction.

“Y/n, can we talk?” you turn around, looking at Rooster’s serious expression.

“Is everything okay?”

“Let’s go outside” he grabs your hand, taking you out.

“Rooster are you ok-“

“Don’t go on that date” he interrupts you. You look at him. He looks tense. His jaw clenched, his eyes focused on yours.

“You’re joking, right?” you try to laugh, but his face tells you that this is not a joke. “You’re serious”

“Yeah. Y/n I know I fucked up, I really did. And I’m really sorry. But if you let me explain…”

“You told me you didn’t feel the same. You just wanted to be my friend and now that someone is interested in dating me you do this? How can you explain this?” your words hurt him. You can see it in his face, and his closed eyes and sorrowful expression.

“I was trying to protect you” he confesses.

“Protect me from what?”

“I didn’t want you to be hurt if something happened to me”

“That it’s my decision, Rooster” you move towards the beach, trying to put some distance between the aviator and you. But every step you move away, he follows.

“I knew you would be mad at me”

“Then why did you do it?!” you’re tired of this conversation. It’s like going around in circles.

“Because I love you!” he says, raising his voice.

You both stay silent, looking at each other with thousands of thoughts running through your head. He loves you. You should be angry at him for lying but he just admitted his feelings. Natasha was right, he loved you. And he still does.

“You love me” you repeat.

“With my whole fucking soul” he admits in a whisper.

“I should be mad at you, you know”

He looks at the floor, kicking the sand with his boots. “I won’t blame you if you are”

You walk closer to him, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling down to kiss him. He freezes for a moment, not really understanding what’s happening. Then he pulls you closer, his hands on your hips, his tongue fighting for dominance. You pull back to breath, and Rooster follows you, searching for your lips. You chuckle a bit and he opens his eyes.

You hear cheering and clapping from inside the bar, turning to see all your friends celebrating that the two of you got together. Finally. Phoenix and Coyote high five each other and you know those two had a plan.

“…are you still mad?” Rooster asks in a tiny voice. Why is he so cute?

“Oh, I’m really mad. But you’ll have time to make it up”

He smiles. “I like the sound of that” he says, pulling you closer to kiss you again.

[nowandajenn]

Blue Christmas- Eleven (Healing)

Pairing: Chris Evans/OC Kelly

Summary: After almost three years of marriage, everyone would tell you that Chris and his wife Kelly are the most stable, solid couple they know. But behind closed doors, things are tense as they keep trying for a baby, to no avail. When a secret threatens to shake their solid marriage to it’s core, will they be able to pick up the pieces?

I do not consent to have my content, whether it be this story or anything else of my creation, posted by a third party on any other platform other than right here without my permission. This blog is 18+ and is not intended for minors. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Heed the warnings. This is a work of FICTION. I do not claim to know Chris Evans, his family, friends, or anyone on his team personally.

Warnings for this chapter: Heavy, heavy angst. Language. Mentions of adultery. Mentions of miscarriage. Pregnancy. Allusions to abortion but nothing is stated outright.

This beast is clocking in at just over 6.7k words. Probably the single longest chapter I've ever written. The tag list for this story was getting out of control, and more than half the people on it had no interaction with the story at all, so I discontinued it. I'm tagging my nearest and dearest though. I may, MAY, create a google form for a new tag list. We'll see.

January 8th (Six days post accident)

The pain meds they give people in the hospital following surgery pack a wallop, especially when given through an IV. They make me have crazy dreams, turn my attention span paper thin, and have the added bonus of turning my brain/mouth filter virtually non-existent.

I’m trying to pay attention to the conversation that Chris is trying to have with me. I really am. To be fair, he knew when he got here an hour ago that I had just gotten another dose. 

“What about this one?”

 Chris turns the iPad towards me so I can see yet another picture and resume’ of a home health nurse. It was an idea that he was originally against, but both Lisa and Andi, my main nurse, had both suggested that maybe having someone come in for a few hours a day a couple times a week would be a good thing. As much as he wants to do everything he possibly can for you, he also knows he’s only one person. After not hearing a response, and thinking maybe I had dozed off into a narcotic induced nap, he looks up to see me using my good hand to fiddle with the end of the braid that the nurse had put my hair into earlier after the shower that I’d finally been allowed to have after days of bed baths. 

Showers used to be glorious things. Water turned up to near scalding levels, music playing loud with me singing loudly (and badly) along, and nice shampoo and shower gel that smells amazing. This was not that. This was an entire process that took nearly an hour, starting with my casted leg and equally casted arm being wrapped in waterproof plastic and ending with me in tears because washing long hair takes two functional hands, and I only had one. There’s zero dignity in having another person give you a shower when you’re a grown woman who’s been showering and bathing by herself for many years now without issue. The nurse had been amazingly sweet and sympathetic and helped me with whatever I couldn’t do on my own (which was a lot), but the whole experience just left me feeling useless and depressed. 

 A soft touch to my hand brings me back to the present. 

“Where’d you go?” he asks softly. 

”My hair smells weird.” 

He leans forward a bit so he can get a whiff of my hair. “It smells okay to me.” 

“It’s not the same. It’s weird, clinical hospital shampoo. It doesn’t smell good like mine.” I lament. “I couldn’t even wash my own hair today. It’s too long, and I couldn’t do it with one hand. I can’t even-”

My voice starts to waver and I look down at my arm that’s laying useless in a sling across my chest. Even my fingers are so swollen and bruised that I couldn’t even put my rings on if I tried. My ring finger, which hasn’t been naked since Chris slipped my engagement ring on it some four and a half years ago, feels very bare and just wrong. Everything about the accident and my injuries keeps hitting me in different ways. 

I look over at Chris and then down at the iPad that he’s still holding. “Hire whoever you want. I honestly don’t care, and it’s not like I have any choice in the matter.”

He sighs softly, knowing that this conversation was never going to go over well. He knows that I know that I’m going to need as much help as I can get when I finally get released to go home, but he also knows that being as stubborn and self sufficient as I am, my worst nightmare is having someone have to help me do something as simple as get out of fucking bed. 

“This is the one thing that’s happened lately that you do get to choose. I want to get someone that you’re going to like and be comfortable with. I can’t imagine what this is like for you right now, and I’m just trying to make life as easy as it can get when you’re home.”

“I don’t know if I’m going to like someone from a goddamn resume’. As long as they can do the job without fucking me up more than I already am, great.” My back is starting to ache because of the position that I’m laying in, and when I go to slide further up the bed, I’m rewarded with a searing pain in my stomach from the movement pulling at my still healing splenectomy incisions. 

“Fuck, honey-”

I fall back on the pillows, irritated as hell and over this damn conversation, and the words fly out of my mouth before I can even think about stopping them. 

“Just pick someone! Maybe you’ll get lucky and you’ll get another girl who’s going to fall for the irresistible Chris Evans charm, who has no moral compass and no compunction about sleeping with married men. Then you can throw a shot into her too.”

I watch as his face falls, his hand pulling back from where it’s been resting on my arm and a lump the size of a golf ball forms in my throat. I didn’t mean to say that. I might as well just be wearing a name tag that says Hi, I’m: Here To Make Things Worse. I cover my mouth with my hand and glance up towards the ceiling, trying to blink the tears away before they can fully form. 

“I’m…..I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….” I start, but the words don’t want to come out. 

“It’s okay.” he tries to assure me. 

“No, it’s not.” I look down at the fluffy blue blanket that Chris brought me from home and I play with the slightly frayed edge, ashamed and unable to look at the broken look on his face. “This is a bad idea.” 

He pops a shoulder. “Could always hire a male nurse.” he says, raising his eyebrow. 

I let out a small snort, knowing he said it to try and lighten the mood, but all I can feel right now is trepidation at the thought of coming home with Chris to recover and him taking the brunt of all of my frustrations and emotional eruptions. 

He turns the iPad off and puts it on the side table and I watch as he stands up and grabs his jacket off the back of the chair, and my eyes widen.

“Don’t leave. Please, I-” I sputter out, trying to push down my panic. 

“I’m not. I’m just going to run down and get a coffee and check in with Shanna and see how Dodger’s doing. Are you getting hungry? You want me to grab you something?” 

I squint, trying to remember the dinner options on the meal sheet they give me every day and which one I might have picked. 

“Uhhhhh….no. I’ll be okay. They should be bringing whatever I picked out soon anyway. I’ll live.” 

“Okay. Text me if you change your mind. I’ll be back. No more than half an hour, I promise.” he says, resting his palm on the top of my head gently. 

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

When Chris gets back twenty or so minutes later, I’m honestly sort of surprised he came back instead of just going home and getting away from my emotional, broken ass for a while. And even more surprised that his mom is with him, since I didn’t know she was planning on coming by today. 

When they walk in, I’m sitting in one of the chairs in the room with my leg propped up, poking at a dish of red jello with a spoon. 

“What are you doing out of bed?” Chris asks, surprised. 

“I had to pee after you left, and being in bed was making my back hurt, so I asked if they could just park me here for a while. There’s not a ton of options when all you can really do is sit, so…I’ll be ready to get back in bed in a while.” 

Lisa starts towards me and I push the wheeled table away from me slightly so she can bend down and give me a hug, which I return with a strength that takes her by surprise a little bit. Knowing how hard the last few days (hell, weeks for that matter) have been and the fact that your mom isn’t around, she just had a feeling today that you could probably use a big dose of love that only a mama can provide, which is why she decided to pop by and surprise both you and Chris. 

She tilts my cheek to the side gently as she examines my face. “Your bruises are looking better.” 

“Mmm. Still hurts. Airbags will save your life, but you’re going to feel like you went twelve rounds with Mike Tyson after they go off in your face.”

“So, Chris and I were talking downstairs, and I had an idea.” I swallow my mouthful of jello and look towards Chris, really hoping that he didn’t tell her about what I said. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly and the anxiety in my gut loosens up a bit. 

“What would you think about me coming to stay with you guys for a bit when you got home?” 

“Chris, tell me you didn’t ask your mom to come home with us to be my babysitter.” I groan. Lisa snorts slightly. “He didn’t ask. I’m offering. I know you’re not crazy about someone you don’t know being in your house and….” she searches for the right words “helping you. And it wouldn’t be for too long; just until you guys get yourselves situated at home and get into a routine with things. It’s just to make the transition a little smoother.” she assures me. 

I look over at Chris and he shrugs, gesturing to me. “This is your call.” 

I sigh, looking over at my mother in law, who I adore more than anyone in the world. “I’m not great to be around lately. I’m still not convinced that coming home after this is the right thing to do, and I’m afraid it’s really just going to make things worse. I don’t want you both to have to deal with my psychotic mood swings.”

“Sweetheart, if your mood was completely stable after everything that’s happened, I’d be terrified. You’re hurt, and you can’t do the things that everyone else takes for granted without help, and everyone knows how frustrating that is. I know you’re angry and sad and frustrated. And that’s okay. We’re-” she gestures between herself and her eldest son “made of tough stuff. Well, I’m tougher than him. We all know he’s a big baby who cries at the drop of a Hallmark movie.” I sputter out a laugh while wiping my eyes. 

“We all love you, and we’re all here for you no matter what.”

January 17th (Fifteen days post accident)

“They would release you on the coldest day of the year.” Chris says as he makes a final sweep around the hospital room that I’ve called home for the last two weeks. 

I huff out a small laugh. “Let’s just get the hell out of here before they come back here and tell me that they’ve decided to keep me for another week.”

“They should be back any minute with your discharge papers, and then we’ll go. The doc said he was going to call in your prescriptions to Walgreens, so hopefully they’ll be ready by the time we get there. Or I can get you home and settled in and run back out and grab them.” 

“We can wait for them. It���s too cold to be running back and forth.”

I look down at my “going home” outfit and can’t help but feel completely ridiculous. A pair of pink flannel pajama pants with penguins on them (they’re the only thing besides sweats that I can get up over the cast on my leg), a long sleeved white shirt, and one of Chris’ hoodies that’s zipped up over my sling, leaving just my good arm in the sleeve. They removed the stitches from my arm yesterday, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to look at it. The compression bandage that I’ve been instructed to wear all the time (with the exception of showers) is a lot more comfortable than the layers of wrapping my arm was encased in, but still annoying. And it itches like the devil. My right foot is encased in fluffy socks and a shoe, and my left leg is of course still in a cast, a sock pulled down over my exposed toes so they don’t freeze off when I go outside. 

My eyes go to the small black wheelchair that’s coming home with me and I squeeze my eyes shut. Because I’ve been instructed not to use my damaged arm for ANYTHING more strenuous than moving it gently to maneuver a shirt on and off, I can’t use crutches. 

Chris finishes packing up my backpack, and stops when he sees me staring vacantly at the wheelchair. He frowns, and walks over slowly, sitting on his heels in front of me. 

“Hey.” he murmurs softly, snapping me out of my reverie. 

“Hmm?”

“This isn’t going to be forever. They said the cast is going to come off hopefully in a couple of weeks, and then they’re going to put you in a walking boot. At least then you’ll be able to get up and move around. I know, I know how much you hate this. I do. But it is not forever.”

“I know.” I hate how small my voice is. “I hate how I have to think about every move I make. I can’t reach for anything because I can’t use my arm. I have to be careful when I stretch or it hurts my stomach. I have to cough or sneeze as soft as I can or else my ribs hurt. It’s just….I feel like a prisoner in my own body right now.” 

“But you’re going to get the chance to get stronger and recover.” I look up at him and our eyes meet, and I know we’re both thinking about the fact that the driver of the car that hit me died four days ago from his injuries sustained in the crash, and how that could have been me instead. 

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

When the nurse comes in with my discharge papers and the litany of aftercare instructions, Chris takes them and heads downstairs with my stuff so he can bring the car around to the front entrance. The nurse helps me put my coat and hat on before helping me maneuver myself into the wheelchair and we head down to the first floor. 

“You excited you’re finally out of here?” she asks me with a smile. 

“And nervous. It was kind of comforting knowing that even though I was stuck in here, if anything went wrong, I was in the right place.”

I see Chris pull up at the curb, and the nurse wheels me outside, and I gasp at the biting cold. It’s the first time I’ve felt fresh air on my skin since the day of the accident, and although it’s beyond freezing, it still feels amazing to breathe it in. It isn’t until I get situated in the passenger seat and we’re ready to drive home that the panic sets in. 

“The last time I was in a car I almost died.”

Chris takes his hands off the steering wheel and reaches over to hold my right hand. 

“I know.”

“You drive like an insane person.” 

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, he snorts, because he knows the amount of speeding tickets he’s accumulated since he started driving is ridiculous. But he also knows that since the accident, he’s been almost hyper aware of his speed and everything going on around him, when he usually just goes on autopilot when he’s driving, like anyone else who drives every day. 

“I promise I won’t drive like an insane person with you in the car.” 

“Don’t drive like an insane person ever. You can’t control the way other idiots drive, but you can control how you do. I need you around.”

Those words make hope bloom in his chest. 

“I promise.”

When we get home, relief washes over me. As promised, Chris drove very carefully and obeyed the speed limit, but I was still a nervous wreck the whole 25 minute drive. Plus, being scrunched in the roomy, but limited space of the passenger seat isn’t very comfortable with my injuries. One the car is parked inside the garage and Chris has my door open, he realizes that he didn’t really think this part through very well. 

The furniture inside has been arranged and re-arranged about a dozen times in different configurations to accommodate the wheelchair in the house. He purchased a shower chair for me to make showers easier, he got cast wraps to keep the cast on my leg dry, he set up a perfect little nest with pillows and blankets on our sectional so I’d be comfortable, with remotes and chargers and books, and even a little cooler within reach. 

I notice the look on his face that he gets when he’s confused about something or trying to find a solution to a problem, and turn to him. 

“You’re trying to figure out how you’re going to get me in the house, aren’t you?”

The sheepish, yet slightly guilty look on his face tells me I’m right. “I have guys coming on Monday to put in a temporary ramp over the stairs in front. But I didn’t think about today.”

There’s two steps to get from the garage into the house, and the wheelchair isn’t going to make it up them. 

“You’re going to have to carry me in the house.”

“I was thinking that, but I don’t want to hurt you. You’re still really sore.” he says, gesturing to his chest and stomach. 

“I’m pretty sure everything I do for a while is going to be somewhat painful, but I think this is our only option. Why don’t you grab the wheelchair and bring it in, put Dodger in the bedroom until we get inside so he doesn’t knock me down when he sees me, and then come back out and grab me?”

He exhales slowly. “Okay. I’ll be right back. Just…..” he trails off, gesturing vaguely at me. 

“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere.” 

When Chris comes back out, he comes around to the passenger side and opens the door for me. I turn in the seat, angling myself as much as I can to make it easier for him to grab me and carry me inside. I’m slightly nervous about how much this is going to hurt, but I’m determined to not let it show. 

“You ready?” 

I take a deep breath and nod. He stoops down and slides his left arm around my back, while his right arm loops under my legs and he lifts me gently, my good arm going around his neck. He’s carried me like this about a million times in the years that we’ve been together, but for some reason, all I can think about is how he carried me (both of us slightly tipsy)  like this up to our hotel room after our wedding reception, and me laughing and telling him not to drop me or else I’d get our marriage annulled. I squeeze my eyes shut at the memory. 

I open them back up when I feel Chris setting me down on the end of the sofa and helping me get comfortable. 

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks nervously. 

“I’m okay. Can you just grab a couple pillows so I can put my leg up though?” 

He hits the button on the side of the couch for the foot rest to come up and slides a couple throw pillows under my leg. 

“Can I get you anything? Are you hungry? Thirsty?” 

“I”m okay for right now. Can you go get Dodger though? I missed him like crazy.”

He smiles and goes to the bedroom to let the dog out, and a second later, I hear the sound of his nails clicking rapidly on the hardwood. 

“Hi, baby!” I exclaim, holding my arm out. 

“Dodge, be gentle, okay? Careful.” Chris warns. 

Dodger jumps up on the couch next to me and immediately snuggles into my side. Luckily enough, he’s on my good side so I can give him pets and belly rubs. 

“Mom’s going to be over in a few hours. She said she wanted to give us a little bit of time to get settled in and such. I’m gonna go and unpack our stuff and start some laundry. You have the remotes and your phone and charger nearby….if you need anything, just yell. Or tell Dodger to come get me.” 

“I will. I think I’m going to try and take a nap though, honestly. The trip home kind of took it out of me.”

“Okay.” He grabs a blanket from the back of the sofa and drapes it over me, dropping a kiss to my head before he leaves to go get started on unpacking our stuff. As he walks away, he stops to look back at me again, thinking to himself how it seems like it’s been a lifetime since the last time the both of us were in this house together, even though it’s only been about three weeks. As much as he wanted you back home, he never in a million years thought this would be how it happened. 

January 25th (23 days post accident)

“God, that feels nice.” I moan at the feeling of Chris’ fingers in my hair, massaging the shampoo in. 

“Why do you think I always beg you to wash my hair?” he says, smirking. I catch his use of the present tense, and try and think about how long it’s been since the last shower we took together before the accident. I’m damn near positive it was way different than the ones that have happened since I’ve been home, and probably ended in orgasms all around. 

“This is infinitely better than the showers in the hospital. The nurse who always used to do mine had long ass nails. I’m pretty sure one of them is still embedded in my brain somewhere.” 

He laughs as he rinses my hair with the detachable shower head. After working conditioner through my hair and helping me scrub myself down and even shaving my right leg and under my arms for me, he steps out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist before grabbing another one to dry me off. I’m sitting on the toilet lid in my underwear while Chris smooths lotion on me, letting me do what I can reach with my good arm when I say his name softly. 

“Thank you.” I watch his eyebrow quirk up in confusion. 

“What for?”

“This. The- everything. When we got married, I bet you never imagined you’d have to help me shower and put on clean underwear and take me to go pee.”

He looks down as he continues to rub the lotion into my leg. “No, but I don’t think anyone goes in ever thinking about the worst case scenario where those things would ever come up. But that’s part of the deal, right? For better or worse? That covers everything; not just the good stuff. You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job.” 

“You could have just let my mom have her way and let them take me home.” I point out. 

He scoffs and shakes his head. 

“Absolutely not. For one thing, you and your mom would have ended up killing each other. And for another…..your head is giving you enough grief as it is right now, and being around her would have just made it worse. I couldn’t do that to you.” 

I see Chris reach for my shirt and groan, knowing how much it hurts my arm to put a damn shirt on. 

“How bad does it look?”

“Your arm?” 

I nod slightly and he sighs. “It’s still really raw and red. It’s going to fade, but it’s going to take some time. The doctor recommended some stuff that’s supposed to help with scars. Make them less visible over time.” 

“Can I see it?” I ask. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. I shrug a bit. 

He picks me up off the toilet seat and walks us in front of the bathroom mirror and turns so I can see my arm. I suck in a shuddering breath and close my eyes. It’s ugly. A roughly five inch or so vertical incision straight down my upper arm, red and raw and glaringly obvious. Even when it’s fully healed, it’s going to be ugly. 

“If you want, I can always talk to Josh. We can see if he can draw something up so you can cover it up once it’s fully healed.”

I nod as tears leak out of my eyes. Chris tilts my chin up. “It’s just a scar. It doesn’t define you and it’s not the end of the world. It doesn’t make you any less beautiful.” He pivots so my ass is sat on the bathroom vanity and once I’m settled, he pulls the shirt over my head, being gentle with  my arm, and then helps me into a clean pair of pajama pants. 

“You know, we’re actually getting kind of good at this.” he says as he carries me out of the bathroom and sets me down in our bed. 

“I hate that that’s something to brag about.” I tell him, rolling my eyes. “Although, I guess after doing the same thing day after day for a couple weeks, it’s to be expected. You don’t look quite as terrified now as you did the first time we did this.” 

February 2nd (one month post accident)

“I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner….I was in a pretty serious car accident a month ago and things have been a little hectic since then. I haven’t been cleared by my doctor to fly yet, so there’s no way we can make it out there. Mmmmhmmm. Yeah, the reservation is under Kelly Evans.” 

Chris walks into the kitchen and starts making himself a cup of coffee while I’m on hold with the resort to cancel the Valentines Day reservations I had made back in November. I had a solid plan that I had cooked up with Meghan and his team so he wouldn’t have anything scheduled for the three days I had booked at Post Ranch Inn, but then between finding out about the affair and the accident, my carefully made plan got blown straight to hell, leaving me feeling a little (lot) angry. 

“Okay. Thank you again for all your help. I’m sorry again for the late notice.” 

I end the call and toss my cell phone onto the island, irritation bubbling up inside me. 

“Who was that?” 

“Canceling the reservation I made for us for Valentines Day at Post Ranch Inn. I made it before I found out about you fucking someone else. That kind of took the romance out of it a little bit. Well, that and the fact that my body’s still mostly useless.” 

My newly (as of two days ago) uncasted leg starts itching to high hell under the walking boot and compression sock I have on, and I start the process of unstrapping the boot one handed so I can enjoy scratching my leg to my heart’s content. I wish I could have gotten a picture of Chris and the doctor’s faces when my cast was finally cut off and a fork, two pens, and a plastic ruler came tumbling out of it, all lost in my attempt to wedge something down there to scratch the itch. 

He sighs lightly and turns so his back is to the counter, giving me what I’ve coined his “kicked puppy look.” Most of the time, I feel guilty for whatever I said to make that look appear, but today I’m just too agitated to care. 

“Don’t give me that look. You do it every single time I mention the fact that you had sex with someone else. You know what you did. You don’t get to make that face and look like I just told you that Disneyland is closing down forever.”

He walks over to where I’m sitting with a sigh, and reaches to help me with the straps on my boot. “Can we not fight? Please? I know that there’s an ocean of stuff we have to work through, and I know none of this is easy…I just don’t want to fight with you.” 

“Just stop. I can do it myself." I tell him, brushing his hand away softly. "You know, just because I still need you to help with most of my basic human functions doesn’t mean that I necessarily like being around you all the time. You’re my husband and for some God forsaken reason, even though you did what you did, I still love you, despite me calling you a cheating shitbag in my head at least once a day. So, just leave me alone for a little while, okay? I was really excited about having this trip happen, and it all got blown to hell in a really magnificent fashion, so let me just sit here and be pissed off and sad about it.” 

He holds his hands up and backs away. “Okay. I can do that. Just, we have your doctor’s appointment at 2, so let me know when you need me to come help you get ready.” I look up at him and nod, spinning my phone on the table. He starts to walk away, but then turns back towards me. 

“You know, when the accident happened and you were out of surgery, I kind of went into crisis mode. I called my team and canceled everything, because I knew that you were going to need someone to be there for you and help take care of you until you were stronger. And I know that you have a million people that are in our lives that would drop everything and do that for you, because you’re amazing and everyone loves you so much. The parade of people that have come and gone through here since you’ve been home is proof of that. I kind of just took charge, because I didn’t know what else to do….and I don’t think I took the time to stop and ask myself if you even wanted it to be me, given everything that happened.”

“Chris….I did. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable having anyone else do it.” 

He nods. “I know that it’s hard for you to be around me sometimes. I know that you’re still angry, and hurt and upset and you have every right to be. I know we’re a mess, but once things settle down a little bit, we’ll get in to go see that therapist that Carly told me about, and we’ll start working through it. That is, if you still want to.”

“I do.”

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

A few hours later, we’re sitting in the waiting room of my gynecologist’s office, and Chris is just staring around the room at the posters on the wall, and occasionally glancing at the couple of pregnant women that are in the waiting room with us. 

“Why did you need to see her?” he asks softly. 

“I’m overdue for my annual exam, and since all I do lately is go to the doctor, I figured I should probably just get it out of the way.” It’s a half truth. Well, ⅓ truth. If the doctor was right about my hcG levels when I was in the hospital, I’m about six weeks pregnant, and it’s probably time to get official confirmation in black and white. And if I am, Chris deserves to be there to hear it. But first, he needs to get something done himself. 

The nurse comes by and hands us both a clipboard with paperwork on it, and Chris’ eyebrows raise. “Why do I get paperwork?”

The nurse clears her throat nervously and taps a section on the paperwork. STD test, with the works. She walks away to let us fill out the papers, and his eyes shoot to mine. 

“I used a condom. I told you that. I'm not an idiot.” he says softly.

“I don’t care. I need to see it for myself, for my own peace of mind.”

He’s called back first, and with a nervous swallow and a look back at me, he follows the nurse. I’m called back shortly after, and after blood work, urine test, and the internal exam, Chris is allowed back into the exam room to wait with me while the results come back. 

“You want to grab something to eat after this? You didn’t have much for breakfast earlier.” he asks. 

“Uh, yeah, I-” I’m interrupted by a knock on the door followed by Dr. Hartman coming back in. By the look on her face, I just know. 

“Congratulations, you guys are pregnant.”

Chris is lucky that there’s a chair right behind him, or he would have been in a world of pain when he landed. When I see him basically collapse into the chair, I get worried. 

“Mr. Evans, are you okay?” Dr. Hartman asks, reaching for his wrist to check his pulse. His face is a look of pure shock, like he can’t begin to comprehend what he just heard. 

“Chris?” I ask, my own emotions threatening to spill out despite knowing this was coming. I instantly feel bad for not giving him a heads up that this was a very real chance. His eyes find mine and we just stare at each other. 

“I’m okay. I just- it’s- are you sure?” he asks, his voice unsteady. The doctor steps away, seemingly convinced that a movie star isn’t going to drop dead of shock in one of her exam rooms. “The tests are extremely accurate, but I’m going to go ahead and do a transvaginal ultrasound so we can take a look. If you’re far enough along, we should be able to hear the heartbeat.” 

Since I’m still in the gown and haven’t gotten dressed yet, I lay back on the table and assume the position again as she pulls the ultrasound machine towards her. Chris gets up on unsteady legs and stands next to me, still looking shell shocked. 

“Okay, this is going to be a little uncomfortable. Just take a nice deep breath.” she warns. I do as she says, but I still make a face when the probe is inserted. Chris is torn between watching my face and wanting to see what’s happening on the screen. Me, I’m too afraid to look anywhere but his face. For as much trepidation as I’m feeling over this pregnancy, I’m overcome with the sudden fear that she’s going to find the baby and there’s not going to be a heartbeat, just like last time, and I honestly don’t know if I can go through that twice.

“There it is.” I hear from next to me. I watch as his eyes move from mine to the screen, seeing the tiny blob in the middle of my uterus with the little flicker in the middle. A heartbeat. I still can’t bring myself to look though. Dr. Hartman, who was the one who told me that I had miscarried and performed my D&C, senses my fear, and quietly hits a button on the machine. The sound is almost overwhelming as it fills the room. I have a crazy thought that it almost sounds like clothes in the washer as it’s agitating. Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. It's loud and fast and sounds strong. My eyes snap to the screen, and I immediately bring my hand to my mouth and burst into tears. 

“From the size, it looks like you’re about six or seven weeks. Which is going to put the due date at about….” she stops to put some numbers into the computer. September 23rd, give or take.”

After printing off some pictures and leaving the room to let me get cleaned up and get dressed, we leave the office feeling a million different emotions. We’re both quiet on the drive home, both lost in thought. How many times have we wished for this? How many negative pregnancy tests have we seen and tossed angrily into the trash, tears threatening to spill. How many times did we say “It’s okay. It’ll happen. I know it.” only for it to happen during the worst period in our marriage? 

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

When we get home, I slowly waddle into the house, still enjoying the feeling of being able to (somewhat) walk instead of being chained to that damn wheelchair. I make my way to the back door to let Dodger out, passing Lisa, who’s watching both Chris and I with a curious, careful gaze. 

I feel him behind me as I turn on the tap, filling a glass with water and downing it almost all in one gulp. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly. He can see my hand trembling slightly as I hold the glass, and he knows he has to tread lightly. 

“In general? Or about the fact that we found out I’m pregnant in the middle of our personal shit storm?” 

“Both.” I drop my head. Truth be told, I’m exhausted. My arm is killing me, the nerve pain making burning pins and needles radiate over my whole arm. My leg is aching from being on it for an extended amount of time. 

I’ve been trying to roll it over and around in my head for weeks. What to do if I really did have the shittiest luck in the world, and I did end up actually pregnant in this situation. I keep coming back to the bad joke that my brother made the night I found out about Chris about me not having to deal with all of this while I was pregnant. 

“I don’t know if I can do this.” My voice is soft, but he hears it like I’m screaming it. “I don’t know if I can have this baby. I don’t know if my body can handle it, and I don’t know if I can handle it emotionally.” 

The words punch through him like a hit from a prize fighter. He knows exactly when it happened; the night that you had come over to get a dress from your closet and we had ended up defling quite a few surfaces in the house. There’s a good chance that our baby was conceived on the dining room table. 

“Are you talking about-” he can’t even bring himself to say the words. He KNOWS this the worst timing for this to happen. He KNOWS that no matter what, it’s your choice. But the thought of not having this baby with you almost brings him to his knees. 

My breath hitches. “Chris, look at us. Take a good look at me, at my body. I’m broken. I’m still recovering. I’d have to be monitored more closely to make sure that everything is okay. Because we don’t know if it will be.” The thought of finally getting everything I wanted with my husband and then not having it makes my chest hurt. 

“I’ve wanted kids with you since the moment you told me you loved me for the first time, and that I was it for you. I knew that you were going to be the father of my kids one day. But now, with everything, I don’t know if that’s the case anymore.” 

The tears are burning my eyes, and I can feel the sobs starting to build in my throat, and I know if I don’t get out of this room right now, I’m going to lose it. I’m pretty sure that Lisa heard at least part of our conversation, and I can’t talk about it anymore without losing my mind. I set my glass in the sink and silently make my way upstairs, thinking that two of the worst conversations I’ve had in my life have come within months of each other and have both taken place in the kitchen that I loved. Now I can barely stand to be in it. 

[goatpunches]

ahem, i may or may not be working on a little .. gongzhi fic ..

snippet below the cut

[cookiescraems]

why hasn't anyone written or drew a mdryuu/asoryuu phantom of the opera au when the material is right there!!!!

[happyfeet3351]

“Stop trying to make everything gay!” STOP WRITING SHIT LIKE THAT THEN??

[jkrockin]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Characters: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Meet-Cute, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Pizza Place, borderline gen if I'm being honest Summary:

It's been a slow, quiet shift, with the rain keeping people home. Robin made them dinner (mushroom and extra cheese for her, olive and pepperoni for Steve— he goes and gets it, he deserves to eat it) and now they're just hanging out, radio on low, waiting for the night to end. So of course it's now that the door bangs open and a guy in all black tumbles in, dripping rainwater all over Steve's beautiful clean floor.

"Why," the very wet guy says, shaking long, equally wet hair out of his face, "are there no goddamned cabs in this goddamned city?"

*

After being blocked like billy-o for some time, I managed to write a thing. Please clap.

[haleyincarnate]

Quote by Dr. Jenn Hardy

[eureka-its-zico]

I would love to write today.

I may or may not do a prompt game. Would that be fun?

[castiel]

dreamy drabble day 1: dream

—

“you’re living the dream, man.” sam slapped dean on the shoulder before joining eileen in the car and starting the engine.

cas wrapped his arm around dean’s waist as they watched them drive down the dirt road away from the lakehouse.

“was this your dream?” cas asked.

“hm?”

“when you were younger. did you dream about a life like this?”

he watched dean’s eyes glance up towards their home, and run across the garden that they’d built together. his arm tightened around cas’s shoulder.

“honestly? it wasn’t something i ever thought about. i just knew it would never happen for me. i saw dad and i just… i figured hunting was all i’d ever be good for.”

cas turned in dean’s arm so he could face him. “you know that’s not true.”

dean’s eyes crinkled at the edges. “i do now, angel.” taking cas’s face in his hands he pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “thank you for showing me how much more i could be.”

cas shook his head affectionately. “you were always more than you could see. you deserve this, dean. you deserve to be happy.”

eyes shining, dean leaned his forehead against cas’s. “so do you. i’m so glad you’re here.”

“there’s nowhere else i’d rather be.”

[callsigndragon]

Masterlist

If any link doesn't work, please let me know.

ɴɪᴄᴋ 'ɢᴏᴏsᴇ' ʙʀᴀᴅsʜᴀᴡ

ᴘᴇᴛᴇ 'ᴍᴀᴠᴇʀɪᴄᴋ' ᴍɪᴛᴄʜᴇʟʟ

ʙʀᴀᴅʟᴇʏ 'ʀᴏᴏsᴛᴇʀ' ʙʀᴀᴅsʜᴀᴡ

ᴊᴀᴋᴇ 'ʜᴀɴɢᴍᴀɴ' sᴇʀᴇsɪɴ

ɴᴀᴛᴀsʜᴀ 'ᴘʜᴏᴇɴɪx' ᴛʀᴀᴄᴇ

ʀᴏʙᴇʀᴛ 'ʙᴏʙ' ғʟᴏʏᴅ

ᴍɪᴄᴋᴇʏ 'ғᴀɴʙᴏʏ' ɢᴀʀᴄɪᴀ

ᴊᴀᴠʏ 'ᴄᴏʏᴏᴛᴇ' ᴍᴀᴄʜᴀᴅᴏ

ℋ𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝒟𝒾𝓈𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈-𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒

[nowandajenn]

It’s coming along, slowly but surely. I’m hoping it will be ready to go up in a few days!

[sockodot]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Nihlus Kryik/Female Shepard Characters: Nihlus Kryik, Female Shepard, Custom Shepard Additional Tags: Identity Issues, Angst, came back wrong, Eldritch Horror Shepard, i think, Body Horror, slight - Freeform, Established Relationship Series: Part 7 of Jenn Shepard Summary:

Commander Jenn Shepard died over Alchera. Nihlus can't help but think something else took her place. All that's left is the vision and a body that doesn't stay dead.

[spannardnation]

u know i love to get poetic abt THEM but god its so PERFECT that theyre like??? water and stone. blue eyes and brown.

the sea- soft and changeable but strong enough to sweep you away, impossible to miss but harder fully understand its depth. fits into the shape of where its put yet never quite losing itself.

the mountain- hard and sharp and unscalable without the right method. can be carved away with time and effort, discovered to be just as brittle as something infinitely less sturdy.

and no matter where in the world, be it the shores of a great ocean or the precipice of the highest peaks, the two will always come together. either a wave crashing against the rocks or the rain kissing down from the sky.

water and stone

[clever-fox-studios]

Chapter 4: Recall

It's a short one cuz after this point the chapters get longer and longer

Waking up was less of a chore this time, however neither of the brothers could recall exactly when they had nodded off to begin with. Moon was the first to rouse himself, blinking his eyes open against the dim purple light of the sitting room while taking the time to listen. Everything was still. Internally, his operating system pinged him.

//STATUS: ONLINE/

/Idle time: <1 shake_AST/

/Battery: fully charged/

>ES_Recoup: 0.0035%_

Well, it’s not like I lost a lot of power to begin with, Moon thought to himself, only slightly curious about why he’d gone idle at all when he had a full battery beforehand. Taking a slow breath that heaved his shoulders, he sighed. Glancing down, he saw his brother was still resting, head tucked against his collar like so many nights they shared in that place.

That place.

Thoughts began to cycle rapidly, Moon doing his best to moderate and control the rate at which they came and went to prevent triggering some form of panic in his mind. Something was nagging at him to address, deep in the corners of corroded files and memories that had been scratched out of their given locations, forcibly removed and leaving stinging holes in their wake. Hands tightening on the fabric of Sun’s shirt as he continued to hold his brother safely, Moon further internalized and began sorting through everything to try and understand whatever was bothering him so much.

Guilt? Hm, perhaps. They had just gotten into a small bout of emotions earlier. That memory was crisp–as much as he hated that it was, it at least reminded him of the now. How he’d held onto Sun as he crumpled under the weight of what he realized had to be an immense amount of stress, even if it was for good reason. Running away from home, from everything they knew–that was part of it, surely.

Yet not all. Even with it being a fraction of the issue, Moon also felt… distant to it. Like it had occurred in some other room he was only privy to watching through a wall of glass, withdrawn and not participating despite knowing full well he’d snapped at Sun and broken the dam the golden one had spent so long trying to keep in place. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he was more bothered by the feeling of distance itself or the fact it was there to begin with.

More to go over later, I guess, he told himself before returning to his mental sweep.

He remembered the rough tiff they had, how Sun had grown tired and they’d laid down on the couch, Moon cradling his brother as if shielding him from both the outside and inner turmoil he was feeling…

It wasn’t new. No.

The bed gave slightly under their combined weight, Sun’s normally warm body left cool to the touch as he sat, unmoving, in its center. Night had fallen and been there for what felt like an eternity, the distant light of Usil barely making up for the light of the aurora as it peeked over the edge of the high window. The only view they were afforded in this room.

Moon shook his brother’s shoulder gently, his voice quietly speaking the golden robot’s given name but there was no response. He tried again, firmer. The light spokes that decorated Sun’s head shifted, spinning slightly and growing in luminosity as he seemed to come out of whatever trance he was in, looking back to Moon.

His teal irises were desaturated, empty, the sight sending a sharp spike of cold worry into Moon’s joints. He begged to know what had happened, though he already had an awful feeling, their Lock humming incessantly in his gut as it registered some kind of distress he couldn’t assess.

That woman had already been here earlier.

Moon shuddered, shaking himself a bit. That memory was, unfortunately, intact as well. And he had woken Sun.

“Moon…?” Sun’s voice was weak, confused.

“I’m here,” he replied gently, allowing his brother to move away and sit up, the radials flowing from their projection points silently as they always did when Sun woke up. They both sat up slowly, groggy, and just the tiniest bit emotionally sore from their exchange prior to their… nap?

“Did… we fall asleep?”

Unable to look Sun in the eye, Moon nodded. “We did.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.”

He could think of one way to figure it out, but it meant interacting with that strange human, Jenn. The possibility she’d tampered with them was something he’d been ignoring, yet he recalled suddenly and sharply that he’d received a tampering warning when he woke up from being powered off. At first he’d felt it wasn’t about her, but the nagging was still there, demanding him to root out all possibilities.

Of course there’s a chance she added something instead of taking anything out. Something that would power them off remotely at a whim.

Getting up slowly, Moon squared his shoulders and went to the door.

Sun called his name, but he barely registered it, a strange kind of calmness overtaking his senses as he marched with deliberation to the outside where the faintest amount of noise was coming from. Somewhere behind him, Sun had gotten up to follow, still trying to talk to him–but he didn’t have anything to say to his brother at the moment. He needed to know what the error was. To know if she’d done something to them while they were offline, be it added or subtracted.

He just needed an answer–no, a confession–that she couldn’t be trusted. That they weren’t safe at all.

So he’d be justified in killing her with his own hands.

~

Leaving the pair alone was partly to see what they did when unsupervised for longer than a few minutes, but also due to Jenn still having things to do and she didn’t want to spend her day babysitting her unexpected guests. Not when she had things to double check. After departing from the sitting room, the human woman had gone outside and down the steps, footfalls thudding heavily until she was low enough to simply hop the rail and descend, landing on her feet with a thud in the grass. Shaking it off, she strode over to the metal room pod that served as her personal lab and held her false arm up; the light panel on the back of her hand flickered, then the door opened with a hiss, the lights popping on as she stepped over the threshold.

The array of equipment on the table remained untouched for the moment as she sought the bookcase in the back, a great wooden monstrosity she’d spent days hauling in piece by piece from a dump sight a short distance away–short being a relative term to her. Thumbing over the covers of notebooks and bound tomes salvaged, repaired and purchased from whatever vendors happened to have them, this collection was exclusively dedicated to cyberite, including its known properties and uses, both direct and adjacent.

Or as some preferred to call it, raw etherylle.

Everything she could get ahold of regarding the mysterious mineral was here–including manuals and schematics of self-contained etherylle power cycling systems and the machines made to use them. It had been a while since her last refresher, but Jenn knew they were here somewhere.

“Ah.”

There was a gap on the shelf. Her fingers skimmed over it curiously before tapping the shelf itself in thought. She’d moved it, apparently.

Turning, hand to her chin, Jenn’s gaze shifted from the floor to the large table in the middle of the space, the collection of parts littering the surface barely gaining her notice as she moved around it, scanning for the binder she needed. There was no organization, at least to the casual observer, the parts left sitting helter-skelter and yet there was still some sense of order to be had to their owner. Hip cocked as she tried to think back, Jenn felt she’d just had the binder she sought recently but her dragged brain had misplaced that tidbit of knowledge when she was ‘interrupted’.

Right, she recalled, glancing at the door a moment. I was working on… Her gaze returned to the table, quickly flicking over the parts and her mental notes of what she still needed or couldn’t use, a slow sigh escaping her mouth. Sorry, bud… I might have to wait a while before I can get back to working on you.

Dissatisfied, she left the sealed room and headed back up her stairs, pausing on the deck as she caught sight of the space between the trees at the very edge of her property where she’d found the pair of newcomers, just laying in the grass. The grass had gone back to its normal state and she’d cleared as much of the debris as she could, but odds and ends from the trees above still littered the ground–the trees themselves still bore a reasonable gap in the canopy from where they’d fallen. Pondering, she reached into her memories for a moment, I was in my lab… and then…

“Alert. Alert.”

Jenn’s brow furrowed as she picked her head up from where she was stooped over, comparing a cylindrical piston case to the catalog on the table. Twii, barely a comprehensible shape and more of a smudge of color, careened into the workshop through one of the air vents–Jenn intentionally kept the cover off of it for that very reason–as a strange voice emitted from her. The pocket-bot landed on the table gracefully, sitting in her idle position and changing her face screen to display a bright red WARNING banner.

“Uh oh,” the human uttered, which was all the permission needed for the little spot of color to tip her face back and project a cone of light upward, a message assembling itself out of the tens of thousands of light particles within.

“Alert: a D-class aurora anomaly has begun to form in the area of Crissen Ridge and Alva. Travelers, Runners and homesteads in the area are advised to seek shelter immediately in the nearest geo-stable location. Do not be alarmed if towers, equipment and companions experience technical difficulties during this time.” 

The alert began to repeat but Twii had the wherewithal to stop it after one, chirping as she followed Jenn to the exit, grabbing onto her mother’s shirt back to hitch a ride. Jenn let out a string of colorful curses as she hurriedly shut down her operation, scooping the binder into her hands and readying to power down the lab with the lockdown code for such events–then she paused a moment. Moving swiftly, she crossed the yard to the white tent on the opposite side of her tree that covered the half-built excuse for an add-on she used for storage and projects that needed better ventilation than the lab block. The parts she’d collected, laid out neatly on the doubled-up table in the middle of the space, could almost form the shape of a body if viewed at a distance.

With enough knowledge, one could see the layout of arms, a hand, the makings of a lower torso with hips, and some piping for legs, however there were far more gaps than anything else; not dissimilar to a paleontological discovery of bone fragments, in a way. This didn’t remain long, however, as Jenn scooped the parts haphazardly into a box on the ground, unwilling to let them get damaged by the aurora event. Most of the little ones fit into the box easily, but the pipes and larger coils had to be carried manually–frustrated, Jenn tossed the binder onto the double table, barely caught Twii fly off to the side of the space somewhere, and sealed the box…

Hopping the rail once more, Jenn hit the grass and entered her tent with only faint belief that what she sought would even be there given it had been recently occupied and she knew it wasn’t there while they were.

It took only a moment to know it wasn’t, in fact, in the tent. Unsurprising. What was there, however, was a mess.

Scratching her head, Jenn moved around the table the Sunrise had been on and found the pile of their clothes left on the grassy floor with absolutely none of the care that was normally given to things so expensive. Had she thought less of them, she’d assume it was simply naive negligence on their part–rich kids not knowing the value of their stuff and all that. She’d seen it plenty before.

However, the fact they intentionally donned the plain cloaks while abandoning their silks was curious. Was it due to practical need or something else? Carefully, she folded the fabric back up and set it on the little side table she’d dragged in from the lab, picking up the discarded decorations strewn about in the grass. Once it was set to rights, she peered around, hands on her hips.

Still no binder. Time to think about what happened next.

Snapping the hinges down, she hit the activator on the front of the box, sending a ripple of light through the seam where the lid met the base, the magnetic displacer kicking on. Hefting it onto her back with one of the straps attached to its side, she was grateful for the wonder of weight management devices like this that made hauling things like robot parts and groceries so much easier for one person. Arms laden with the bigger fragments of her project, she sped to the lab and deposited it all on the large table before returning for the rest, a bit displeased she needed two trips.

Once safely hidden from the coming anomaly, she locked the lab down and thundered up the steps, calling a crisp whistle that cut through every corner of the property to summon her collection to one place. Twii zipped out of the tent immediately, tailing up the steps behind her, while the bushes rustled below; Rukbat emerged, bounding over the yard to reach the patio like his life depended on it. Hanging a sharp right, Jenn rolled through the wrap-around patio and leaned over the rail, arm extended.

“Aquila!” she called, seeing the golden bird leave its perch and descend eagerly, giving a sharp rasp as the human pulled her under the eaves, unbothered by her bulk. Jenn entered her home through the back door and sealed it, Rukbat slipping into the house at the last moment and doing his best to stay out from underfoot. This door led directly into Jenn’s bedroom, arguably the largest space in the house, decorated almost exclusively in shades of blue or white and gray; she was nothing if not dedicated to a theme. Sitting on the large, circular bed that took up most of the space in the middle was Laa, already prepared for what was to come.

Setting her bird down on the bed, Jenn gave her a pet, feeling the mattress shift as Rukbat made himself comfortable. The twins nestled together between the larger Stellaris units, none of them seeming too perturbed by the warnings. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, that they had to face a major storm of geo-magnetic activity out here, but it would always be massively inconvenient, even if it wasn't directly overhead.

“Of course I’m right in the thakking middle of this one,” Jenn grumbled to herself while giving everyone gentle strokes and scratches. “Alright, all, you know what’s coming. Everyone power off for a shake or two.”

Obediently, they did as told, each one’s inner light fading slowly as they cycled down, bodies dropping slightly as they fell into stationary poses. It never failed to make Jenn uncomfortable on some level to see the light literally leave their eyes, no matter how temporary it might be. At least the twins only looked to be asleep.

“There’s that,” she muttered before snapping her fingers and rushing back outside.

Overhead, Jenn saw the green and yellow beginning to buckle and twist, streaks of red and blue pulsing across it like electricity before peeling off into ribbons of light. She stood on her patio, transfixed for a moment, before remembering she had to shut her tower down so it wouldn't crash. Going up the normal way felt too slow so she opted to cut through Aquila’s perch, swinging her arm over the roof to find the bent piece of metal she’d left up there for just such a reason.

Robotic hand enclosing on the jagged twist of whatever metallic-polycarbonate blend it was made of, she pulled herself over the slope of the roof and scrambled up toward the branches that shielded her home from the sky, the metal buckling with a deep ba-dunk sound under her feet. Carefully, Jenn sidled to the nearest branch and grabbed on, hauling herself into the tree with practiced motion, knowing it like her own synthetic arm. Every twig, every slice in the bark, she knew from her time spent crawling in, over and around them while making this place hers–she knew where to step, where to grab and what could withstand a little bounce here or there as she ascended to the top.

Bolted in place where the tree splayed open, branches naturally unfolding from the middle as if leaving it bare for just such a thing to be set up, was her tower, spinning rapidly in the growing turbulence. The broken panel she’d glued together with some cheap resin was always finicky, but this time it obeyed without question as she input the shutdown command; watching it and the sky warily, Jenn made sure the tower’s rotor at the very top came to a stop, folding down and retracting into the base with a jitter and groan. The screen flashed a power indicator for residual battery and current usage, which she didn’t check as she knew it by heart from the other times she'd had to do this very task. It never changed.

The aurora was coalescing at a faster rate now, being overtaken with oranges and blues, the sky appearing to rip open in places, leaving stark, black gashes of the Sky-Beyond-the-Sky to seep through. Part of her wanted to watch this phenomenon desperately, but she knew it would be a horrible idea to do so–the warp was forming almost directly over her house and the pressure behind her eyes was already building. She’d have a lot worse than a migraine if she gave into the temptation to sit outside and oggle.

Sliding back down through the branches, she made record time getting back into her house–just enough to be able to shut the windows and pull the storm blinds down before it really got going out there…

“Hm.” Jenn frowned at herself. “That doesn't help me at all. I didn’t grab it then…? No. I went to my room… er… no, the lounge.” Her hand went from her chin to the back of her head, rubbing it with confusion. “Where the halt is it?”

Exiting the tent, her eyes glanced to the space once again where the pair had been laid out, powerless and lost.

The storm rattled and raged, shuddering the very roots of the tree the house sat upon, but only Jenn was privy to the howling wind and mental fog that accompanied it. Trees didn’t have to worry about the feeling of falling and being spun at high velocity while sitting perfectly still like she did.

Actually, most people probably didn’t experience these storms the same way she did. Not unless they managed to sleep through them somehow, and dreamed vivid, restless dreams. This was no different, save for their intensity; the strange visions of things and places she didn't know had ceased to be concerning ages ago.

The pain, however, was another thing entirely.

By the time the storm had passed, Jenn was barely cognizant of herself, shaking and sweating on the floor of her sitting room as the last traces of magnetic sickness seeped its way out of her bones. Her false arm had been discarded only moments before the storm descended, as it only served to make the buzzing feeling in her body worse in these high-intensity vortexes. It laid on the floor nearby, the blue light gone from its exterior. Breathing heavily, Jenn lifted her head and blinked slowly with the lights coming back on–they’d gone out, as expected, as the storm interfered with the backup power.

Somewhere in the house, she heard movement, the tapping of nails on tile–had she given them the power on command by accident? Or were they out so long that their natural power cycle counter had run out and they simply returned to business? She wasn’t sure–her right eye throbbed with pressure that begged her to not question it.

Tapping steps went by through the wall, the sound of a door opening and closing–someone went outside. Sighing, Jenn sat back and wiped her brow with the hem of her shirt, feeling her hair cling to her scalp where she’d sweat enough to make it damp. Disgusting.

As fatigued as she was, there were things to do, and no amount of pain or head fog had stopped her yet. That wasn’t about to change.

She’d barely gotten her arm back in place when she heard the commotion, the loud clatter of something falling through the trees and Rukbat barking erratically. Fear dug its way past her tiredness, giving her the speed and coordination needed to bolt through her door to the outside, palm on her false arm as she prepared to deal with trouble. It was needless, though, as she realized the commotion had knocked itself out as it landed.

Stunned, the human leaned on the rail of her patio to try and get a better look, Rukbat standing alert on the grass below with his nose pointed to the mass of gray fabric and limbs that had, apparently, come falling through the sky judging by the mess of leaves and tree bark scattered around them. “What in Azil’s shell–?” Jumping the rail was a reflex that she immediately regretted, landing with far less grace than she usually had, her toes and ankles buckling under her unbalanced, tired weight. A choked off grunt was all she had to muster as she stood and padded over to her unexpected guests, stopping a distance away for her own safety.

One of them had heard her, picking his head up weakly, orange and cream embellishments standing out like a beacon against the gray fabric covering him; light flickered on his head but failed to properly catch–light radials, she realized, knowing they were a popular feature for Diurnal Task Managers, which he seemed to be. One eye was blinking in and out, as if trying to come online and failing, the other was a grayed-out teal that struggled to stay in focus, however she felt in her gut that he’d seen her for just a moment.

Right before he powered off.

Absently, her organic hand had reached over to her right side while she recalled her day, rubbing gently. “Right,” she said to herself, turning in place. “Then I took them to the tent and got them fixed up…” Briefly, she recalled moving the binder from the table when she separated them so each robot could get his own workspace, but then what?

Pantomiming the motions, Jenn envisioned the binder in her hands, feeling like she had gone upstairs next…

… the binder flipped open slightly as it sailed through the air, spinning in circles until it landed with a whump on the cushion only to bounce and flop behind the couch…

“AH!”

Of course it would be inside the house!

Hurrying, Jenn clamored up to her porch and rounded into the house so quickly she had to use her hand to brace the entryway as a pivot. It had only been a few minutes, perhaps the boys were dressed and she could pester them to let her grab the elusive bundle of paper before they found it–!

“She tried to shoot us, Sun!”

Moon’s voice reverberated through the closed door, bringing the human to a sudden stop. Uh-oh, she pondered, realizing they must be having a go at each other with how loud that was. Do I interrupt?

It was quiet again right after, which prompted her to put her ear to the door–it was her house after all–but she resisted the urge and stepped back, waiting just a moment to see if anyone emerged. When they didn’t, she sighed, hand on her neck. Guess I need to wait to get that stupid binder, I’m not gonna cut in if they’re having some kind of quarrel. It’s not my business.

Making a terse pbt sound with her lips, Jenn meandered back outside, seeing Aquila sail by overhead as she often did. The desire to confirm her suspicions was only nagging at best, but persistent, lending itself to generating more questions and theories as she looked for something to do to kill time until the pair had finished their squabble. How did they manage to survive not only the fall, but the aurora event, in one piece? Was the Sunrise’s quickness to trust and accept her help because he vaguely recognized her from before he powered off? Why were they even out here? Was she overthinking what she’d seen due to being unfamiliar with the basic structure of the Sun and Moon models?

That one, at least, could be answered as soon as she got the binder in her mitts, but the rest she felt would never get a proper answer, and that always bothered her on principle. She hated unanswered questions.

Alas.

It was none of her business.

Yet she hoped she could get the Moondrop to permit her to examine his system a bit more without a fuss. The memory of the error she’d found danced at the edge of her thoughts like a bug fluttering in the corner of her eye and there’s a high probability he’d gotten alerted to it when he came back online, so it was question of if he’d trust her enough to admit it or if he was going to accuse her of causing it. Either-or didn’t matter so much as long as it got him to sit still and grant her access, as she had a pretty good idea what it was. Moon had been tampered with before she got to him, but by what or whom she could only guess.

Likely not the one who’d installed the tracking chips in their main systems to begin with, though.

[justmochi]

spent all morning writing out lowkey canon events that happen to my ocs in the future why is this so fun