#my current fix. Constant. Cough drops.

[beaversatemygrandma]

I don't think I have ever encountered pollen counts high enough that are capable of literally making me lose my voice. And it's not even just me. So, my dad was showing signs of some Major issues, so much that we all were like "Holy shit, get tested for covid." He ended up going to a clinic and went through all that shit, and as it turned out. It was literally just allergies. Claritin just stopped working and it had built up so much that he was literally asked to leave work for two days. So. Now here i am, feeling like ass. Everything is in my sinuses. My throat HURTS. I can't talk without a cough drop in my mouth. And I'm starting to suspect that this walmart brand claritin is just garbage.

Because there's pollen counts of 60-85 (85 today), and this cold to hot every other day, which adds the dryness of inside heating (my sinuses already HATE this), and well. It's adding up.

These trees have been confused by the weather and i have too, and now they're too fucking horny to STOP.

[californiaboytoybilly]

🩷🧡💛💚🩵💙💜💐🌸 for Steve, Billy, Jason, Nancy, Chrissy and/or Eddie. I'm in need.

Okay okay, I’m gonna do a mix of them depending on who I have the best answers for. Some questions may get multiple answers :P

🩷 Why are they your favourite?

Billy, Eddie and Nancy are three of my all time favourite characters in a show ever, because I can relate to all of them in very different ways.

With Eddie, it’s about growing up an outcast and visibly out of place in a small town. I was tall, queer and autistic in a town where the last two weren’t welcome (and the first made me stick out, because I was the tallest in my class, especially among girls, at 5’11 by fifteen years old).

For Billy, it’s about the cycle of abuse and the anger that being mistreated brews inside. It’s about sitting outside of school and purposefully missing the bus because I didn’t want to go home. About how- even eight years after leaving the situation- I can’t handle being shouted at without breaking down or lashing out.

And finally, with Nancy, it’s about being constantly underestimated just because I’m a woman. About having a drive to prove people wrong, and sometimes realizing I’ve stepped on toes or treated people unfairly in my path to be seen.

🧡 Anything in common with them?

I kind of got into this above, so I’ll pick different characters for this question.

Chrissy - I was a cheerleader for several years in high school!

Jason - I can sometimes be so set in my beliefs that trying to convince me against my deeply held convictions can be… challenging. Not impossible, but might give you a slight headache.

💛 Do you have any polar opposite traits to them?

A few, yeah.

While Steve is constantly seeking validation through romantic connections, I rarely do so. My need for validation comes more in the form of approval of things I’ve done, or towards my intelligence or creativity. I can and do fall in love, I am in love currently, but in the past it hasn’t been a burden to me to be alone. Romance isn’t something I go out of my way to find, just something I appreciate when it comes along.

💚 Favourite representation headcanons?

Oh, this is a real long list but I will narrow it down for readability’s sake.

Chrissy - I tend to head-canon as suffering from chronic pain. As someone who spent 14 years of my life between competitive gymnastics and cheerleading, as an adult I struggle daily with constant levels of pain from injuries, being dropped, being kicked by flyers, the stress of competition season and more. Cheerleading is incredibly hard on the body if done for multiple years.

Steve - my favourites have to be dyslexic Steve and Italian Steve.

Eddie - Appalachian Eddie truther. Also, that boy is so autistic. Please, just look at him. I tend to double him up and make him AuDHD for projection reasons but also because it just… makes sense.

🩵 What’s a popular headcanon for them that you just can’t get behind?

As much fun as it can be to explore in fics, I can’t see Eddie secretly getting laid all the time. This boy is no sex god. He gets overwhelmed when someone attractive breathes on him. Tripping over his feet when people flirt. He’s too focused on music and D&D. I could see someone trying to hit on him, making some comment about his wand and him getting excited and showing off an actual magic wand replica from a book series he loved.

Also please look at his van for ten seconds and tell me he loves cars and knows how to fix them. That thing coughs up rust in the equivalent of a vehicular smokers cough.

💙 What’s a popular headcanon that you adore for them?

As mentioned above: Dyslexic Steve, touch-starved Billy, Eddie with an oral fixation (Hellfire had to give him the Heimlich one time because Jeff spooked him and he choked on a dice he’d been rolling around in his mouth).

💜 Put that guy into situations / take him out?

See, now, I would love to take them out of situations and give them a break with a vacation and unlimited icy drinks and a on-call therapist but… I do be putting them in horrible situations in my head. Whoops.

💐 Favourite polycules for them?

MMM.

Eddie/Steve/Billy/Jason

Steve/Nancy/Billy/Eddie

Jason/Patrick/Chrissy

Steve/Eddie/Chrissy

Jason/Billy/Patrick/Steve

🌸 Favourite mono ships for them?

Billy: My favourite Billy ships are Mungrove, Byergrove and Harringrove.

Steve: My favourite Steve ships are Steddie, Harringrove, Stargyle and Cheerscoops.

Jason: My favourite Jason ships are Tigerfreak, McCarver, Cargrove and Stason.

Chrissy: My favourite Chrissy ships are Buckingham, Sleuthcheer, Patrick/Chrissy (I refuse to call them Pissy and I can’t think of another ship name 😭) and Hellcheer

Eddie: My favourite Eddie ships are Mungrove, Steddie, Tigerfreak, Edgyle and Edancy.

Nancy: My favourite Nancy ships are Edancy, Bubblesleuth, Sleuthcheer, Bancy and Ronance.

[just-my-fandom]

Death Awaits (Vanya Hargreeves x Reader)

Summary; When Vanya Hargreeves wife is put in a coma thanks to Hazel and Cha-Cha, the apocalypse arises. The other Hargreeve siblings must do all they can to stop the apocalypse, starting with making sure Y/N wakes up from her coma.

Request; Umbrella Academy Vanya story- where reader isn’t apart of the 43 children but she has powers, and she is with Vanya when Cha Cha and Hazel attack the manor, and she helps the others fight them off-her powers being able to control earth, and water, and air to where she can like cut off people’s breaths lmao fiesty- but Cha Cha gets a shot at the reader and Vanya has to watch the reader collapse with blood loss? Thanksss

Request 2; I know you said you haven’t watched Season 2 yet (Or even finished Season 1) but AH please write a story with Vanya where the reader somehow finds Vanya after they are thrown into the 1960s and Reader actually lands with Vanya and she’s scared Vanya won’t remember her?

Warning(s); Gunshots, fighting, near death, angst.

A/N; I finally finished the show! I had a lot of fun doing this story. It is EXTREMELY long. Sorry.

Another A/N; Leonard is JUST A FRIEND. Like, reader and Vanyas best friend kinda shit.

Date started; Demember 16, 2020

Date published; December 16, 2020

. . .

“Too high,”

Vanya grunts in slight irritation at your comment. Her hand slides up her violin to fix the miss-pitch of her note, eyes barely glancing at where you sat on her bed in the manor.

Your legs gently swayed, wearing black riding boots- acquaintanced with a checkered shirt you had bought not too long ago with dark jeans. Leaning on your knees, you watch as Vanya repeated her line of notes, smiling when the wrong note is now fixed,

A slight jerk of her hand causes Vanyas note to hit too low, her shoulders dropping in defeat as she huffs a breath, “It’s never right,”

“Not if you give up that easily,” You raise an eyebrow, your wife copying your motion, “Breathe, baby. You’ve got this. There’s no one else in the room but me,”

Vanya smiles, tilting her head down before raising her violin to her shoulder, starting from where she had first messed up.

A muffled gunshot directs your attention to the door, going unheard by your wife due to the music right against her ear, so when she sees your brows pinch and your body move to stand up, she stops to watch, “What is it?”

On cue, two more gunshots ring, louder, Vanya setting her violin down gently enough despite being in a rush, following after you with you already feet ahead,

You skid to a stop at the bottom of the stairway, two masked figures standing back to back with Luther on one side, Diego on the other, and Allison opposite of you,

“Stay back,” You demand to the woman behind you, Vanyas eyes shifting to the back of your head before she steps back, moving to the empty hall feet from her,

You move three steps forward before raising a hand, fingers curling as you watch the earth under you raise, the masked killers looking down when the ground cracks beneath their feet, both pushing away from each other to avoid being dropped into the earths crust, now raising their guns to you,

A gust of wind forces their guns into the air and behind them, free hand raising to throw off their masks, revealing one male, and one female,

Your fingers clench on your left hand to wrap an invisible field around the males neck, his hands instantly raising in reflex in an attempt to pry the false pressure off,

Before the woman could run back for her gun, a bubble of water wraps around her head, and the Hargreeves siblings are forced to watch her hold her breath in a panic,

“What do you want?” You hiss, moving closer to slightly drop the water from her mouth, allowing her to gasp in a choked breath,

“We just want the boy,” Cha-Cha spits, your eyes narrowing- Five. “And we’ll be on our merry way,”

“Well he’s not here,” You flick your hand to where Cha-Cha is thrown back into the wall, turning your attention to the male, Hazel. He has now turned blue due to his circulation for air being cut off, a slight smile in your face.

You drop your hand so Hazel dropped forward with his hands on his knees, gasps wheezed as he coughs and hacks for air. You lift both hands so walls of rocks came from the ground, pinning at his sides so he yelled in pain at the pressure of his body.

Then you feel it. Vanya sees it. They all see it. Your powers screech to a halt when the bullet pierces the front of your shoulder, the bolders dropping to release Hazel to collapse, your eyes widening when you see Cha-Cha lower her used gun.

Diego is first to lunge forward, catching the top half of your body before you could fully collapse, your vision already falling black before Vanya could make it to your side,

“Y/N!” Vanyas voice is high pitched, breathy, in alert, “Oh my God,”

“Get Grace,” Luther demands, jabbing his finger to Allison, who stood in high alert,

“Now!” Diego and Vanya shout, Vanya pulling off her button up so she was left in her sweater, pressing the button up to where your white and black shirt was already stained dark red,

Vanya forces herself to look up to your face, eyes shut and skin pale, Diego’s finger pressing to your neck in search for a pulse,

“We can’t wait for Grace,” He hisses, moving to lift you off the debris littered floor, Vanya following, staring at the blood that stained the ends of her sleeves,

She’s quick to follow after her brother, the robot she called her mother calmly waving Diego into the medical room that had been used too many times, Diego lowering your body into the table so Grace cut the front of your shirt, revealing the bullet wound that Vanya forced herself to look away from,

“Pogo,” Grace calls, softly, pulling on gloves as she glanced to the ape, “Please escort the children out,”

“Wait,” Vanya pleas, brows pinched as she steps up to the table, but Diego is swift to catch her at her front, leading her backwards to the door Luther and Allison stood, “I need to be with her,”

“Grace has excellent medical experience. Miss Y/N is in great hands,” Pogo reassures, Vanyas eyes snapping up to your face, before she allows the door to shut, her chest tight with fear.

. . .

“I always knew your family having powers was weird,” Leonard lowers his steaming cup from his lips, frowning, “But now it’s just scary,”

“I know,” Vanya murmurs, stirring her cup mindlessly, “Y/N was just trying to protect my family,”

“How-,” Leonard clears his throat, “How is she? By the way,”

“She’s resting. At home. She hasn’t woken up yet,” Vanya shuts her eyes, pressing her hands to her eyelids, “My tryouts for the front chair is this afternoon. I don’t know if I can do it,”

“Dont do that,” Leonard shakes his head, Vanya lowering her hands to pinch her brows, “Dont put yourself down because Y/N isn’t physically here. Just,” Leonard pauses, hand waving in thought, “Is there anything that Y/Ns ever said that just- stuck to you?”

“Breathe, baby. You’ve got this. There’s no one else in the room but me,”

Vanya smiles, nodding, slowly, “Yeah. Just this one thing. It’s always been a constant reminder she gives me when I’m rehearsing. No one else but her is in the room. Even when someone else really is in the room,”

“See?” Leonard chuckles, sipping the last bit of his coffee, “Y/N gives off that effect to make you believe what she says. She knows it’s a sense of comfort for you,”

“She’s always been good at that,” Vanya murmurs, watching Leonard set down his mug and nudge her arm, standing up,

“C’mon. I’ll walk you home. We can get your apartment nice and cozy for when Y/N gets back,”

. . .

“What is your name again?”

Vanya regrets it. She regrets everything. Coming to this audition, letting you nearly give your life for her family. She regrets it.

“Vanya,” She cant stop how low her voice is, but the conductors booming, louder, please, demands her to state, “Vanya Hargreeves,” Four notes higher.

“Right,” The conductor clicks his tongue, looking up at Vanya on the stage which makes her want to run off, “Well?”

“Breathe, baby,” Vanya nearly hears you say, as she lifts her violin to her shoulder, “You’ve got this,” She raises her bow, “There’s no one else in the room but me,” And plays,

She finishes her last note with a pause, terrified of opening her eyes, but when she does and sees the conductor staring at her in awe, she can’t help the breath she lets out, head tilting back with a smile of relief.

She had gotten the front chair.

. . .

A short gasp enters your lips. Whining out in pain, you force your head to the side. Home. How did you get here? The academy-

You sit up, shortly, crying out at the sting of pain it caused to your shoulder, eyes pinching shut before you raise your head, looking around.

“Three new voice messages,” The voicebox of your phone startles you to cover your face, heaving out an exhausted breath, “Hey, Y/N. Just checking on you in case you wake up and I’m not home,” Vanyas voice speaks, your head raising. “I’m currently at rehearsal, on March 29th, about four in the afternoon. I love you. Call the Academy or the theater if I’m not home,”

“Y/N, it’s Allison. I haven’t heard from you, not sure if you had woken up. But if you have, please call me back. Vanyas went missing. I think she’s with Leonard,”

“Leonard?” You push off the bed, stumbling into the kitchen. You lean against the wall beside the phone, running a hand down your face. Vanyas keys were gone. As was her violin,

“Hey, Y/N?” Diego’s voice comes next, “You remember that apocalypse? Yeah. Vanyas the cause. Get your shit together and meet us at the theater the night of the concert. We need you,”

Your eyes widen, flickering around for your shoes before you grab your keys, moving out the door with a shaky hand on the door, “That’s tonight,”

. . .

“What the hells going on?” Your voice startles four of the Hargreeve siblings to turn around, all watching you rub your patched shoulder,

“Y/N!” Klaus cheers, arms up, “Youre awake!”

“Vanya has powers,” Luther hisses, your eyes flicking to him, “She’s out of control, starting with slicing Allison’s neck,” He jabs a finger to said woman, where you see a patch at her neck,

“Why are we here?” You exhale, Diego stepping up,

“The apocalypse starts today. And you had hell of fucking timing waking up. You’re going to be our distraction,”

“Distraction, how?” You demand, Allison holding up her finger before jotting down words on her notepad,

She’s been scared you wouldn’t wake up. She may calm if she sees you.

“What triggered them?”

“Leonard?” Diego questions, “Yeah. He manipulated her for her powers. Good thing he’s dead now, huh?”

“Leonard’s dead?” You hiss, Luther shaking his head at you,

“We don’t have time. You need to go. Vanya needs to see you,”

You nod, shaking your arms out and wincing at the pull it gave your shoulder, moving forward to the entrance to the audience.

Your footsteps remain slow as you move down the walkway, eyes firm on Vanyas seated figure at the front of the stage. Her eyes remained a bright blue- nearly white, on her paper.

Her eyes flick up at the sight of movement, meeting your own so you stop your footsteps, smiling tearfully at where she sat. Her lips pull into her own smile, pausing slightly,

“There’s no one else in the room but me,”

Her hand is quick to catch up to her song, your feet moving back down the walkway, screeching to another halt when her head snaps to the side, in time for Diego and Luther to rush out onto the stage,

You watch in alarm as she stands up, a wave of blue thrown off her bow so Diego and Luther are knocked off the stage, the audience around you shrieking in fear and running off in large groups,

“Vanya!” You call, over the panicked shouts of the men and women around you, moving up to the stage, “Baby! I’m here!”

Her glowing eyes force themselves to look down at you, waving her bow so the musicians behind her sat back down, her jaw clenching,

“Y/N, get down!” A rough tug on your injured arm causes you to cry out, Vanyas eyes opening to see Diego pull you behind a row of seats, your back falling against his chest with a short gasp, your hand pressing to your shoulder,

“I need to get to her!” You heave, looking across the walkway to Luther and Allison, “She’ll listen to me!”

Allison shakes her head, gesturing to her own arm. “Screw the gunshot wound,” You hiss, Diego’s attempt to catch your arm when you stand up failing, where you stand in the middle of the walkway,

Luther and his siblings are quick to surround you, “Here’s how it goes!” Luther starts, “We go at her from all angles,”

“I call front,” You state, moving around him to jump onto the stage, stopping feet from your wife, “Vanya!” You plea, hand up as she continued to play, her suit now white, “Baby- it’s me! I’m okay!”

Her eyes don’t leave yours as you take another step forward, before she raises her bow, your body quick to drop before the wave of blue could hit you, the four boys behind you lifted into the air, her power quick to suck the life from their bodies,

You look up in a panic, pushing to stand up in a rush, crying out when a gunshot rings through, dropping the four brothers to the ground. Your arms jolt out to catch Vanyas fallen figure, your shoulder screaming in pain as you lower yourself to your knees, Vanyas head rested in your lap,

“Vanya!” You cry, hand running down her hair as your free pressed to her neck, “No! No, baby-,”

Your sob cuts short when feeling her pulse and no blood, looking up at Allison behind you with a false gun in her hand. “You didn’t shoot her,” You choke out, looking back down to the woman in your hands, “Oh, my god,”

You lean down, lips pressing to Vanyas forehead, sniffling as you clutched her hand in yours on her chest, “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re okay,”

“We did it,” Luther heaves, Klaus moving to point at the window in the ceiling,

“Then what’s with the giant moon rock flying towards earth?”

You look up, eyes blurred with tears, sniffling as you look back down to your wife, fingers tucking her hair away from her eyes.

“So much for saving the world,” Klaus mumbles, your head leaning against Vanyas as your eyes shut, hiccuping.

“This doesn’t have to be the end,” Five rushes, moving next to you and Allison knelt by you, “I have a way out of here. I just need you to trust me,”

“Five,” You call, now looking at him, “I trust you,”

You feel your body lift off the stage, Vanyas body leaving your arms so you flailed in mid air, yelping when you are dropped onto the concrete just seconds later

Dallas, Texas, 1963

“Shit,” You whisper, looking up at where the blue vortex vanished, “Shit. Shit! Vanya!”

“Miss?” You look over, to a blonde woman standing with her son, panic on her face, “I have a woman saying her names Vanya. Might she be who you’re looking for?”

“Oh my gosh,” You mutter, nodding as you push off the floor and follow her to her car, where you see two bystanders helping Vanya off the floor, “Hey! Vanya, are you okay?”

“I think so,” She murmurs, taking your arms as she stands, her eyes flicking to your patched chest, “What happened to you?”

“You don’t remember?” You whisper, brows furrowed, your hand sliding to her cheek. You turn to face the woman from before, “Ma’am, do you have somewhere we can go? She needs to be checked up on,”

“Did I cause it?” The woman, Sissy, panics, moving up to you, “I didn’t see her, I swear,”

“It’s okay,” You breathe, and look back to Vanya, your eyes teary, “You’re okay,”

She nods, warily, letting Sissy move you to her car.

. . .

“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand,” Vanya exhales, leaning forward on the couch you both sat on in Sissy’s house, “We’re married?”

“Yes,” You nod, licking your lips in fear, “Is that okay? We- we don’t have to,” You pull your hand from where you reached for her own, Vanya shaking her head as she takes your hand, tightly,

“No- I mean- yes, it’s okay,” She smiles, your own lips pulling upwards, tiredly. You lean forward, allowing your forehead to knock hers.

“You two look like you’ve had a long day,” Sissy speaks up, handing you a cup of (favorite/warm/drink), “I only have one guest bedroom,”

“I can take the couch,” You heave, reassuringly, Vanyas brows pinching as she tugs at your hand,

“We can share, Y/N,”

“You barely remember me,” You murmur, clenching your jaw and laughing, tearily, “Why would you want to sleep with a woman who you don’t know?”

“I may not know you but I trust you,” Vanya states, raising your hand and hers to show the rings you had, “You say we’re married. I will keep trying to regain my memories as long as I can to remember our wedding day,”

Your eyes flick up to hers, smiling, weakly, with a nod, sniffling as tears began to refill your eyes. Your hand raises to wipes your cheek, Vanyas smile dropping in worry as her hand touches your jaw, directing your attention to her, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” You whisper, shaking your head, “It’s just been a very long day,”

You suck in a deep breath and sniff, looking up at Sissy who smiled, sympathetically, “Do you kind if I borrow your shower? And maybe some help rewrapping this?” You lift your bandaged shoulder, Vanyas hand falling from your face to her lap as Sissy nods, gesturing you to follow her down the hall.

You run a hand through your damp hair, silently shutting the bedroom door behind you,

Your eyes shift to Vanya on the bed, resting in a pair of Sissy’s clothing, same as you, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” You move to the bed, Vanya looking up at you- finally seeing the exhaustion in your eyes. What had happened to you today?

“Of course,” Your wife murmurs, extending her hand for you to take so you slide underneath the covers,

“I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” You whisper, now on your side to face her, “You don’t even know me,”

“But I feel like I do,” Vanya corrects, watching as the tear in your eye slipped from the corner and down your nose, “I’m trying to understand, but I can’t do that without you,”

Your lips purse to stop the sob in your throat, hand raising to cover your pinched eyes. “Hey,” Vanya panics, shaking her head as she slides her hand to the back of your head, guiding you to rest against her chest, “No no, please don’t cry. I’m sorry,”

You let your arm slide to her backside, tightly, hiccuping against the skin of her collarbone, “No, I’m sorry. I’m so emotional and tired, and I want things to go back to normal,”

“I know,” Vanya brushes her lips against your hair, her free hand dragging her nails soothingly across your upper back, “We don’t have to talk about it anymore. What do you want me to do?”

A pause, “Just hold me,” You whisper, leaning your head back to look at her, “Please,”

Vanya nods, quickly, her eyes flicking to your lips before she looks back up to your eyes, your body pushing forward to force your lips against hers.

Vanya exhales sharply against your mouth, her fingers tightening in your hair as you peck her lips, once, twice, barely pulling away so you still felt her breath on your skin,

“I love you, Vanya. I wish I could’ve helped you,”

Vanyas brows pinch, wanting to question what you had meant, but she only finds herself pulling you back in, allowing her lips to recollide with your own, slow against the darkness of the bedroom.

[treksickfic]

The City on the Edge of Forever

I’m so excited to share this with you, anonymous requester! After you sent in your prompt, I had another anonymous reader get in touch with me to let me know they’d already written a story that matched your wishes exactly. 

The author of this story is French, not a native English speaker, and they’ve written a beautifully touching story that expands on the TOS episode, City on the Edge of Forever.  I am posting it here on my blog, with their permission, because they do not wish to have an account nor have their identity attached to the story. This writer has already become dear to me and I’m honored that they trusted me with their writing. I hope you enjoy it!

It’s a long story, nearly 3,000 words, so RIP to your dash if you’re on mobile.  I didn’t want to post it on AO3 or anywhere else except my blog, which feels safer.

Trigger warning for panic attack and trigger warning for some mild emeto, if you’re sensitive to that. It’s not very graphic.

“James Kirk, I demand an explanation!”

Scotty, Uhura, the teleportation technicians, and the security guards were completely dumbfounded by the doctor's explosion. They watched the captain stagger off, livid, as if he had been punched in the stomach. He disappeared without a word, with long stiff steps, from the room.

“Jim!” yelled McCoy.

 “Not now, doctor.” Spock's cold, dry voice stopped him.

Spock squeezed McCoy’s arm firmly and Scott was sure to read in his black eyes a burst of fury. McCoy noticed it too, because despite the storm of his own eyes, he remained silent.

“Everyone, at your posts,” declared the Vulcan. “Scott, you are in charge for now.”

“Yes, sir.” Scotty nodded, refraining from asking any questions.

As soon as they had come through the Time Gate, seconds after they left, it seemed, but many weeks later for them, he had seen that they were not fine at all. The captain was pale, deaf to their questions, obviously struggling with the tears that filled his eyes. The doctor was just as white, his face contracted with a terrible anger. As for Spock, he kept his eyes fixed on Jim, his usual indifference altered by deep and obvious concern.

What the hell had happened?

This is precisely the question McCoy yelled at Spock, pulling himself brutally out of his grip as they entered his office, safe from prying ears:

“Damn it, Spock!”

 “If you calm down, doctor, maybe I could explain.”

 “Calm down? CALM DOWN? Shit, Spock! How do you want me to calm down?”

 “Breathing. Deep, and slowly. Start by sitting down.”

 “Don't fuck with me!”

 “The Vulcans don't fuck with people. Now, please calm down.”

 Jim killed someone without thought. There's no way I can calm down. Shit!”

Spock gritted his teeth and an aura of icy disappointment emanated from him:

“Jim killed someone without thought...do you get along, doctor? You've been aboard this ship for over a year. You even pretend to be the captain's friend. How can you accuse him of this without thinking for two seconds?”

 “I saw it ! He prevented me from—"

“--and your poor little mind preferred to give in to this abject emotion rather than try to find a logical explanation. Jim, the most compassionate man we know…would he have acted like this for no reason?”

These words had the effect of a cold shower on McCoy. He shook his head, gradually coming to himself. He hadn't actually thought for a single moment, mired in a nauseating fury that he hadn't even tried to control. Shame replaced anger and he sagged in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment.

The past few weeks had been a total blur. He had woken up in a room with antique furniture, with an adorable woman at his bedside: Edith Keeler. It had taken him some time to realize that she was neither a hallucination nor a very good actress, but that he was indeed in a different era. Back in the 1930s. And he had barely had time to figure it out and come out of the bedroom to find answers before Jim and Spock, overjoyed, fell on him.

The next second Edith was dead. And it was Kirk's fault., He had kept him from coming to her aid. It had been too much emotion, too quickly and too soon. He had not managed to digest it, even less to understand anything other than what he had seen:

Jim had killed Edith.

But now that Spock had brought him back to reality, it all seemed absurd. And he noticed certain details: His friend's trembling when he held him; the tears in his green eyes when he leaned against the wall; Spock's unusually soft words when he had defended Jim, "he knows doctor, he knows."

How could he have seen nothing? Holding back a moan, he confronted Spock's stern face again:

“Explain it to me.”

“I'll do it quickly. In the timeline of our current story, Edith Keeler dies in 1930. In the one you walked through, paranoid after the cordrazine syringe accident, her ideals of peace and openness reach Roosevelt's ears and America becomes a peaceful country. That prevents its involvement in the second world war. Germany wins and dominates the world. Our time, therefore, does not exist.”

“Oh.”

“By the time you got there, after roughly locating your destination, we got to know Edith. A very charming woman, particularly intelligent.”

“And, Jim—"

“Was deeply in love with her. But for the good of a whole world and not solely himself, he let her die and prevented you from committing irreparable damage.”

“My god.”

McCoy put his head in his hands, overcome with excruciating guilt. Spock watched him, suppressing the harsh words that itched on his lips. The man had realized his mistake. It was useless to add more in the current state. He sighed for a long time, feeling unpleasantly empathetic towards Jim. He admired the way the man had managed to silence all of his instincts to save everyone:

“You should go see him, doctor. I think leaving him alone right now is not the best solution. Especially since he slept and ate very little while we were on earth, and even less after he realized that Edith had to die. He was ill several times during the night. He needs help.”

“Perhaps it is better ... Chapel—”

“No, Leonard,” Spock said, as kindly as he could. “He needs you.”

McCoy let out a deep sigh. He felt silly, and unforgivable. But for the sake of his friend, and indirectly, the sake of the crew, he knew Spock was right. Grabbing his medical equipment, he left in the direction of the captain's quarters.

 *****

Jim rested his forehead against the cool edge of the toilet. The doctor's words were circling in his mind, adding further weight to his overwhelming grief. He felt sick, his stomach as tight as his chest. A discomfort that had become familiar over the past few days. The intense nausea that rolled and rolled, threatening at every moment to overflow was a most unpleasant physical manifestation of his stress.

Despite his efforts to conserve food that was already scarce in their daily life in 1930, there were times when he couldn't do anything about it. Nightmares woke him in an agonizing sweat, on the verge of ruining the atrocious coarse cover of their flop.

He managed each time to sneak into the bathroom before returning the meager pittance with spasms he tried to silence. He also appreciated the discretion of Spock, who had the delicacy of pretending to sleep when Jim returned to his bed several minutes later, breathless and exhausted. But now that he was alone, aboard the Enterprise, he had no reason to contain himself, and did not fight the gagging that came out violently, like revenge for being held back so long. His stomach, however empty, kept revolting, replacing his sobs with endless contractions.

He had barely activated the door to his quarters when they had started, and he had yielded to the spasms with some relief. As unpleasant as vomiting was, his whole body tense and sore as he curled up over the toilet, at least it kept him from thinking about it. Being sick kept his mind on constant alert, focusing his attention on the spasms, gasps, bile, burning and kept the fear away. Unbearable, interminable, but ... secondary.

He coughed cautiously, catching his breath, feeling even sicker from the pungent smell that hung around him…the smell as horrible as the way he felt. This place of suffering and abandonment suited him.

He leaned over awkwardly when the bile passed his throat for the umpteenth time and spilled out in a long convulsion. He grabbed his stomach and closed his eyes so he couldn’t see the mess coloring the water again. The dizziness began to build, the light becoming unbearable as a migraine took hold of his temples, seeping through to his sinuses. He shivered, trying to reach for the chase to vent some of his weakness, when a hand rested on his forehead. Incredibly cool, it brought such comfort that he could not suppress a fragile sigh.

Tenderly the hand placed a damp cloth on the back of his neck and then finally came to cover his eyes. There was the terribly aggressive sound of the toilet flushing, then a voice whispering for the light to drop to 20%.

That voice ...

His comfort immediately ceased, replaced by anguish. He coughed sharply, spitting out more bile in an effort to shake off the impending grief. He could do nothing against the intense tremors that made him gasp, nor the panicked sob that burst through the vomiting.

“Shhh, Jim.” The voice was a broken whisper. “Shhh, everything is fine.”

Kirk wanted to yell at him to go away, to leave him, not to hurt him anymore. Irrationally afraid of the anger that had rained over him earlier at the prospect of having to face reality. Instead he could only moan, shaken by a horrible, nauseating cough.

Feeling Jim shake and panic under his fingers, McCoy was crushed by an intense wave of guilt. He had seen Jim gripped with grief, stress, drunkenness, anger... but never so completely. It was the first time he seemed ... broken ... and it was largely his fault.

The abnormal heat radiating from his skin indicated a high fever and explained his lack of self control. McCoy took a syringe out of his bag and spoke in a very soft voice so as not to hurt his friend's headaches.

“Jim, I'm going to inject you with a painkiller, it'll help you relax.”

He had no other answer than a small hiccup and a burst of bile.

Nervous vomiting, McCoy noticed. It was serious. He was going to have to play it safe to get the captain to calm down enough to free himself from his sadness and he hoped the hypo would act quickly. He thrust the syringe into his biceps and took advantage of the slight respite that followed to quickly run the medical tricorder over Jim’s upper body.

The latter told him what he already knew: extreme stress, high fever, deficiencies in iron and magnesium, low blood pressure...nothing to indicate a gastric bug apart from weakness due to deficiencies, which reinforced his theory of psychogenic nausea.

McCoy was relieved to find that the sedative had done its work: Jim was shaking less and seemed more lucid.

“Bones...what--?”

Bones. So he didn't blame him. This man's empathy would kill him eventually, the doctor thought. He put a protective arm around the Jim’s shoulders and another under his chest to support him. He could feel the angry stomach muscles that continued to struggle and tighten. He gave a sad little smile.

“We are going to talk about all this. But first, we are going to get out of this horrible room. You need to lie down.”

“Um, that's not safe,” Jim grimaced with a little hiccup.

“I'll take a bucket, but I want you to lie down. Doctor's orders.”

 “If it's an o-order,” he stammered, in a slight attempt at humor.

Jim allowed himself to be helped without opening his eyes, too ill to protest, and too weak to fend for himself. Bones almost carried him to his bed.

Once lying down, McCoy carefully removed Jim’s boots and socks, pulled up a wonderfully warm blanket and put a cloth on his forehead. Then Jim heard the familiar whirr of the tricorder passing once more over his body and finally the sound of several mixes. Careful fingers rested on his right temple.

“Can you open your eyes?”

“Urgh, Bones, I'll throw up if I open them.”

“There is a bucket, don't hold back. I need you to look at me.”

Jim groaned but obeyed. The light, even though very dim, made him moan in pain. It penetrated his head like a blade and triggered, as announced, a violent nausea.

McCoy held him very gently as he threw up a thin trickle of bilious saliva. He fell completely exhausted on the pillow once the attack was over. The doctor muttered something unintelligible and wiped his face.

“I should send you to the infirmary, Jim. You have serious deficiencies and that added to the stress...this is a perfect combination for a migraine in due form. I'll put you on an IV to regulate your sugar levels and give you a strong pain reliever. It should help you feel better.”

Once everything was in place, a tactical, hesitant silence settled between them. Jim could feel his presence, sitting on the edge of the bed rather than a chair, and the warm, warm hand pressed to his shoulder. The exhaustion and sadness rose in power now that the disease could no longer build its walls around his mind. He saw Edith again. Edith and her sweetness, her love, her joy, her magnificent ideas.

"She's fair ... but not at the right time," Spock had said, trying to make her listen to reason when he...he told her that she had to...die. He had desperately looked for another way but...but—

He clenched his teeth, overtaken by the intensity of the pain. By the gesture. He had even been unable to look at her body. He had not turned around, refusing to see what he had just done, struck head-on by the horror and disgust emanating from the doctor.

He swallowed, feeling the tremors start again, the despair skyrocketing. McCoy, hearing the gasps in his friend's tight breath, tightened his grip on his shoulder.

“I ... I loved her...Bones—"

A tear gathered in the corner of his eye and he sniffled, trying to pull himself together:

“Jim,” McCoy whispered, his own emotions rising. “I ... I don't even know how to apologize.”

“You have nothing to excuse. You are right. I ... killed her.”

“No. You saved our world. You did what you had to.”

“Oh, you spoke to Spock,” Jim whispered with a bitter smile.

“Yes.”

Despite the darkness, McCoy could see the paleness growing and the captain's face tightening with the effort to hold back the sobs. He searched for a moment for words he could say to alleviate the pain. Not finding them, he shook his head.

Jim tried to speak, with difficulty. “I shouldn't—”

“You have the right to be sad. You just lost the one you love in an act of unimaginable courage. Jim, I'm an overly impulsive old fool, I can't even imagine what you've been through and I sincerely ask forgiveness for this unjustified anger.”

“Please, Bones—"

“No, let me finish. Thank you for your understanding, but you don't have to. I acted like an idiot.”

“You couldn't have known.”

“That's no excuse. I know you and should have taken a step back.”

“What is done is done.”

“Jim, what I'm trying to say is that you must not let my emotionally spoken words get to you. You didn't deserve it.”

“I...I searched and searched...and searched again. I couldn't get away from her even when I knew that—”

“You were in love.”

“No, Bones. I'm in love. A selfish person who regrets choices that he shouldn't regret.”

“You are human, and you are suffering. Let it go.”

Another tear rolled down, then another, and finally it was a torrent that poured into the pillow. The captain put a hand over his mouth to silence the gasps of despair and the overwhelming agony of loss. Bones gripped his shoulder, patting it in a comforting gesture. He watched Jim sob like a child, breathing laboriously through exhaustion and mourning. Then he gradually calmed down until he fell into a deep sleep.

The doctor sighed and wiped away his own tears that had started at the same time as his friend's, and that he had not tried to stop. He readjusted the IVs and scanned Jim’s body for the third time. His fever was still high from a mild viral infection after several weeks in the cold and fatigue undernourishment. Jim would be off for a few days and stay in bed.

When he left the room, the doctor was not surprised to find Spock standing and waiting with arched eyebrows.

“How is he?”

 “Exhausted and cold, but fine.”

 “Has he been able to express his sorrow?”

 “I guess, yes.” McCoy smiled, thinking of his friend's relaxed face as he left the room.

“And were you able to express yours?”

The doctor jumped slightly, not at all prepared for this question, much less for Spock to say it. He was sometimes pleasantly surprised by the well-hidden sensitivity of his Vulcan friend. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it.

“You are about to cry.”

“Damned be your insight, Mister Spock,” the doctor growled, a little annoyed.

“Humans all must cry at one time or another to get better, doctor. I do not understand why you put a manly bulwark in front of this natural mechanism.”

Bones laughed. “Wouldn't you find it embarrassing for me to break down in tears right now in your arms?”

He expected Spock to answer him, "Vulcans don't know the gene, doctor." Instead he replied, in his usual relaxed and serene tone, “If that makes you feel better, no.”

Such compassion was so strange that it almost seemed out of place. Leonard burst out into a frank laugh that turned without realizing it into a flood of tears. Tears of his own sadness this time, not empathy or guilt. Sadness he didn't think he had. Maybe he was also a little in love with Edith after all. And that the Vulcan understood it well before him.

Spock, moreover, did not pretend to leave, contenting himself to stay by his side until McCoy’s tears turned back into laughter.

“Why are you laughing?” the first officer asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, Mister Spock, because I’m thinking of the absurd spectacle we would have made if someone had been there. The ship's doctor weeping like a baby in front of a motionless Vulcan and their captain's closed door.”

Spock coughed and McCoy would swear to anyone who wanted to hear it that he was blushing.

“Well, you're not a hopeless case,” he said with a smirk, patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Spock.”

Then he turned on his heel towards the infirmary without hearing the relieved sigh of his alien friend.

[crookswithbooks]

Never the Favorite

Day Five - Declan has always hated the holidays but when Ronan brings a new person into the chaos of their lives he finds himself learning to finally appreciate them.

Declan had never liked the winter.

For as long as he could remember, the entire winter/Christmas season served only to be a nightmare and constant reminder of how estranged their family truly was. When they were younger and Niall was still alive, things had gone smoother but there will still small little inordinacies that you would find if you were willing to look close enough. Whether it was the tree that lit up despite having no visible lights, or the way he was often called away for “business reasons”, there was always something that gave away how different they really were.

Then, after Niall had died, Christmas had only worsened. Ronan was angrier now, less manageable, and Matthew would question why they didn’t have so-and-so decorations that year, or why whoever’s present showed up weeks after the actual date of Christmas. Pulling their family together for the holidays felt more like a chore than a vacation nowadays, and on top of school and dealing with Niall’s messy seconds from the fairy market, Declan didn’t have the energy or time for it. The return of January was always a relief.

This year, however, they had Adam with them. Declan had planned on just Matthew and him for this year, deciding he would skip the obligatory invite that Ronan had ignored for years. Instead, it was Ronan who approached Declan, asking about what their plans for Christmas were. 

“I figured we would just have a small celebration,” Declan had replied skeptically, unsure where this was going but not foolish enough to get his hopes up. “Just family.”

Even as he had said the words, they had been hollow in his mouth. “Family” really meant Matthew and him, something that had been understood for years now. Now though, he decided to stick with the vague term.

“I’m going to bring Adam,” Ronan said as fact, ignoring the fact that Declan had said just family and that Ronan didn’t come to Christmas anymore. He had already walked away before Declan could even attempt to reply.

Now Declan found himself standing at the kitchen counter of the Barns, a tray of cookies on one side of him and hot chocolate that burbled in a pot on the stove on the other. He had been up since five in the morning preparing the abandoned space for guests, and now, five o’clock on Christmas Eve, he exhaustedly finished the last of the tasks he had set for himself. Matthew had been recruited to help out at first until it was revealed that Matthew’s method of helping out was singing Christmas carols and undoing all the work Declan had put time and effort into. He had quickly been removed from helping after that.

Ronan was on Adam duty and was currently picking him up from Stanford. The two should be on their way home about now. Declan had been skeptical about Adam at first, the one person aside from Gansey and Matthew that Ronan had chosen to let into his heart. He had been worried that Adam would break the shakily taped together pieces that made up Ronan and that Declan would have to put him back together after Adam left as he had when Niall had died—not that he had done a very good job of it then. Once he saw the way Adam looked at Ronan, however, like a starving man gazing upon an unexpected feast, he allowed himself to relax a little. Adam loved his brother, that much was clear, and he made him happy. Declan hadn’t seen Ronan happy in so long that he almost hadn’t recognized it when it surfaced.

Now he wasn’t worried Adam would break Ronan. He was worried he would destroy him.

The knock at the door signaled the arrival of the couple in question. Declan smiled, knowing that the courtesy of knocking was Adam’s doing; Ronan hadn’t knocked on any door since he was five. He smoothed out his suit, a gentle gray that Matthew said made him look like a corpse and Ronan said made him look like a douche. He turned off the heat on the stove, whirling around the corner and opening the door.

One of Ronan’s hands was placed securely on Adam’s hip, the protective curl of his fingers a warning sign to anyone who would raise an objection. Adam’s head was turned partway towards Ronan, his lips open on an unspoken sentence, but he cut himself off when he noticed Declan.

“Oh,” Adam said, the word perfectly formed. “Hey.” He glanced up and down at Declan, an involuntary action, and frowned a little. “I didn’t realize it was a formal occasion.”

“It’s not,” Ronan interjected before Declan could say anything. He himself was dressed in a rumpled jacket and jeans that were torn from years of Gansey and he’s excursions. He was wearing neither a hat nor gloves, though Declan noticed the near imperceptible shiver caused from their absence. Adam was wearing a leather jacket that, instead of dwarfing his small frame as it would have a year ago, fit snugly around his torso. He seemed almost more grown-up than when he had left for college, and Declan could see from the way that Ronan stared at him that he had noticed too.

“Matthew’s upstairs,” Declan said, stepping aside to let them inside. “I’ll go grab him. Dinner should be ready soon, I’m just finishing up the last little touches. Feel free to make yourself at home.”

“It is my home, dickweed,” Ronan muttered, only to have Adam’s elbow dig gently and discreetly into his ribs. Ronan elbowed him back, but the gesture was affectionate without any real malice. The two made their way into the kitchen, bickering all the way.

Upstairs, Matthew was staring out his window. His attention was held by the snow falling in soft spirals to the ground, some of it pasting against the window. He held his hand up to it, so that each one of his fingertips was touching a different snowflake. Declan watched him for a moment before coughing, knocking on the doorframe. “Adam and Ronan are here.”

Matthew didn’t look away from the window, though his hand fell limply onto his lap. “I don’t want to have Christmas this year.”

Declan paused. Since the moment he was born, Matthew had been Declan’s to look after, a precious new baby brother, a dream in the form of a boy. Whenever Matthew had a problem it was Declan who fixed it, quickly and unquestionably because the reality of Matthew’s pain was one he never wanted to face. When Niall died, Declan had been there to curb the storm. When Aurora came back, Declan was content to sit back and let Matthew have a mother again. When Aurora was gone he was also the first to come to his side. He gave Matthew everything he wanted because when Matthew was smiling he was happy and when Matthew was happy Declan could be okay.

Now though, he felt his stomach clench unpleasantly and he dropped his hand from the doorframe. He sat down next to Matthew, the mattress creaking under the combined weight, and stared out the window with him. “Why not?”

“Because I’m a lie,” Matthew said, and with those simple words the world shattered around Declan. “I don’t even know if I like Christmas or if that was just something that was programmed into me. What if all the happiness I’ve felt with you and with dad and with Ronan was just a fairy tale that you guys let me live? What if none of it was ever real?”

The only one who hadn’t known Matthew was a dream had been Matthew himself, and it was a secret that the two brothers had kept for seventeen years. Both of them had agreed that the information was something that Matthew was better off not knowing—it was about the only thing they did agree on. Unfortunately, secrets are only kept for so long, especially when they relate to the person in question. Declan had never seen Matthew as desolate as he had been that day on the dock when he first found out about his true identity, and he had promised that he would never let him look that way again.

It was a promise that he realized now, looking at the pinch between Matthew’s eyebrows and his bitter frown, that he had failed.

“None of it was a lie,” Declan said after a moment, unable to look at Matthew as he spoke. “Ronan can’t influence your decisions. He only brought you into creation, like a mother would.”

“But that’s not how his dreams work,” Matthew protested. “A mother doesn’t get to choose her child—Ronan chose me. He…” He struggled for a moment to find the right words to explain and Declan waited with a growing sense of unease. “He picked my eye color and the shape of my hair and the fact that I’m happy and that you’re not and that I love him and that you don’t—”

“I love him,” Declan interrupted, Matthew’s words hurting more because he could tell he meant them. “Why would you say I don’t love him?”

“You’re always fighting,” Matthew muttered, picking at a scab on his arm. “And yelling at each other. The only time you ever talk to each other is because of me. I know that. I’m not that dumb. And I say I love him all the time. You never say that you do—not once.”

From downstairs, Declan could hear the clattering of plates that meant Ronan and Adam had started to set the table, and the soft murmuring of voices. He forced himself to look at Matthew, needing him to understand him, needing this Christmas to be a good one because if it wasn’t it meant that they truly could never be normal and Declan didn’t want to have to deal with that fact.

“I do love Ronan—and you. I love you both because you’re my family. And just because you’re a dream doesn’t mean that you’re not a person. Ronan’s dreams don’t always do what he wants them to. They evolve and they grow into something more than just a dream, in the same way that people do. You’re just as real as any of the rest of us. You’re just… different.”

Matthew glanced up at him shyly, a child uncertain at the love of a parent. “Do you… do you really think that? That I can be a real person?”

“You are a real person,” Declan assured him with a confidence he wished he could feel. “Now let’s go have dinner with the others. I’m sure they’re wondering where we are.”

Adam and Ronan were kissing when they finally came downstairs, though kissing was a polite word for what they were actually doing. Evidently the two had figured that Declan and Matthew wouldn’t be joining them for quite a while, as Adam’s body was pressed against the corner of one of the living room walls, Ronan’s body bearing down on him. From the looks of it, Adam’s tongue was halfway down his brother’s throat and Ronan’s hands were unaccounted for under the other boy’s shirt.

Declan opened his mouth to announce his presence, but before he could diffuse the situation delicately, Matthew bounded into the room oblivious to the scene, and starting serving himself up mashed potatoes. Adam jerked back from Ronan, the tips of his ears burning an embarrassing shade of red. Ronan simply leaned back, seemingly uncaring of the two new people in the room with them.

“Table’s set,” Ronan said, shark teeth flashing, a dare for Declan to say anything.

“Thank you,” Declan said coolly, not rising to the bait. “Matthew and I were just having a talk. Sorry to take so long.”

“I’m sorry—that wasn’t—” Adam blustered through a couple more half-sentences before Declan’s smile assured him it was nothing he wasn’t already aware of, knowledge that did nothing to help Adam’s already mortified state.

Dinner, usually a quiet affair for such events, was unusually lively. Ronan and Adam fell into easy conversation with Matthew joining after a moment, the boy seeming to have no end of things to talk about. Even Declan himself managed to get a sentence in or two without having his head chopped off, mostly due to the inclusion of Adam who defused most of Ronan’s snarky remarks.

In fact, as the evening went on Declan found himself having a genuinely good time. Adam and Matthew softened Ronan’s sharp edges, the presence of two of his favorite people together serving to curb his usual anger. There were even moments in the night when Ronan would laugh at a joke Declan made or respond to one of his questions genuinely without being his usual asshole self.

They ate cookies and drank hot cocoa that Ronan had apparently spiked with something, a fact Declan didn’t learn until the warmth in his gut was too pleasant for him to be sincerely angry about it. Matthew was the first to fall asleep, the unexpected alcohol being too much for him, and Ronan and Adam quickly followed pursuit. Ronan’s rested on Adam’s collarbone, their two bodies intertwined on the couch that was to be a makeshift guest bed, and Declan listened to their breathing slowly even out into a gentle hum.

Declan stood up, drawing a blanket over Matthew and going about the process of cleaning up and wrapping presents to put under the tree. Half an hour later, he stood over the pile of bodies in the living room and wondered at the people who had slowly become his family, his real family. Never before had Declan felt like he belonged, always seeing himself as a protector to his brothers and merely a colleague to his parents. Throughout the years, Christmas after Christmas had gone by, and every time Declan only found himself feeling worse as the night went on. In that moment, however, with Matthew’s face smiling and serene in sleep, and the sight of Ronan and Adam curled protectively about one another, he realized he had finally discovered a family that he could not only care for but that might care for him back.

He decided to join them in the living room instead of going to his bed like usual, and as he lay besides Matthew’s gently snoring body, he found himself content for the first time in his life.

[thewatermelloncat]

Pushing Through

Summary: There is no time to rest while sick in the Umbrella Academy. Not even the option to skip out on dinner.

Author’s Note: I wrote this ages ago and it got lost in my folders since I didn’t like the ending. Thought I might as well post it now because I haven’t done any proper writing in ages, especially not for TUA.

Warnings: None

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

Dinner times were horrible, being forbidden to talk makes for a tense and awkward environment. Something their father never seems to care about.

Five stares down at the half of his food he hasn’t eaten, he can barely taste it. He pushes his plate away, not hungry anymore, before withholding a couple of coughs in the back of his throat.

“Father, may I be excused?” his voice is weak, the complete opposite of his usual confident tone. He wouldn’t normally ask the question, but he knows that his lungs are threatening to choke him again and he’d rather not have his family around to see it.

“Certainly not! Meal times are compulsory and you shall stay for their entire duration” his father rejects.

Around the table the siblings are shocked that Five doesn’t retaliate as he normally would. Instead, he sinks backward in his chair, swallowing hard to keep from coughing, a slight blush rising on his cheeks at the refusal.

He’d disappeared after their training that afternoon with no explanation as to why. Poofing off as soon as they were dismissed, not to be seen again until they were called down for dinner. Initially they had thought he had been in his head about something, he did that sometimes and just wanted to be left alone. Though it all became clear when he’d met them downstairs to file in for dinner, with a pale face and reddening nose.

It isn’t long until his lungs act out again and he pulls the napkin off his lap to shield coughs into it. The deep sounds rock him forward as he tries to repress them, echoing around the dining room. A quick glance at his father tells him he is ignoring him, but he flicks a page in his book over aggressively as a sign of his annoyance.

When Five lowers his hand and takes a steadying breath, his eyes connect with Allison’s across the table.

“Just go” she mouths to him.

He ignores her because although more than anything he wants to; he knows disrespecting his father would put him in a much worse position.

In amongst eating their own dinner, Five’s siblings all spare him worried glances as he sits zoned out in his spot at the table. Occasionally he taps his fingers against the arm of his chair like he’s readying himself to leave, only to think better of it.

It’s not long before he begins coughing again, this round longer than the last. Under the table out of the view of their father, Klaus places a hand on his knee as silent sign of comfort. Surprisingly Five doesn’t flinch and lets him leave it there as he continues to cough before slouching against the armrest of his chair, sniffling into the backs of his fingers.

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

For all his keenness at leaving the table early, Five is the last to file out after they are dismissed, moving slower than the rest of them.

Outside the dining room Klaus waits for him, holding out an arm for him to walk into. When he reaches him, he places his hand around his shoulders to guide him to the sitting room for their mandatory reading time.

By all accounts Five normally liked the sitting room, books lining the walls and the odd contraption sitting around with an unknown purpose. Sometimes it was fun to debate what they did and where they came from. But currently Five would rather be somewhere else.

The chair he’d situated himself on in the corner is comfy enough with his legs pulled right up to his chest, but his eyes can’t focus on what he’s trying to read. It’s hard to concentrate past the pounding in his head and the constant threat of his body not wanting to breathe properly.

Occasionally Pogo will brush past to check they’re all on task but Five never bothers to look up. Only ever shifting to move his elbow from under his nose when he needs to turn a page.

“Hih’nnx’shew”

Allison’s attention turns to Five after he fails at stifling a sneeze. Seeing him shivering and hearing him sniffling miserably, she pulls the blanket she is sitting on out from under her with a few uncoordinated hops on the spot before carrying it over to him.

“Why don’t you just go to bed? You’re already ahead on your readings” she says quietly as she wraps the blanket around his shoulders.

He takes a congested breath as he shakes his head. “No, I’m not. Dad gave me more.”

Allison can’t help but stick out her bottom lip in sympathy as Five sniffles again, turning another page. Reluctantly she turns around and walks back to her seat, knowing that even if she argued with him, he wouldn’t budge.

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

Luther feels sorry for Five as he struggles to regulate his breathing, clearing his throat softly every couple of minutes or so, evident that he’s trying his hardest not to be a nuisance. He wishes that he would let himself cough and just get it over with – no matter how subtle he is trying to be they can all still hear him. Though it isn’t until he begins to withhold a series of coughs in the back of his throat that Luther finds the courage to speak up about it.

“Five, just let them out” he says in a surprisingly sympathetic tone. His voice comes out quiet and he wonders for a moment whether Five heard him at all.

He did, and he takes a shaky breath, “sorry” he apologises to the room before he gives in and releases the last of the coughs into his elbow. The sounds almost deafening in the quiet room.

His siblings all look over to him as he shuffles in his chair, settling back into it more comfortably before turning another page in his book.

“Honestly Five, just go back to bed” Vanya says, lowering the book she is reading for a moment.

Although it’s obvious Five heard her, he ignores her.

Though Ben won’t stand for him continuing to push himself, so he stands up and makes his way over to him. The rest of his siblings following suit.

“How long have you known you were sick?” he asks as he crouches in front of him.

“Felt a bit off in training” Five starts before his breath hitches and he ducks his head down to rest on his tucked-up knees. “Hi’ketchu, i’ktcch… hih’utchh!” It takes him a few seconds to recover and he sniffles congestedly before he raises his head. “Didn’t really settle in until afterward.”

He sniffles again messily into the back of his sleeve as Diego of all people reaches forward to check his temperature. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re burning up buddy.”

“What’s the meaning of this?” Pogo asks as he enters the room to check on the children. Finding them crowding around a chair with their readings abandoned.

“Five’s not well” as usual Luther is the first to speak, as the siblings all step back revealing Five sitting in his chair.

Pogo had noticed that the boy hadn’t been like himself throughout the course of the night but now getting a better glimpse at him, he thinks perhaps some things had been overlooked. Moving closer, he begins to see the extent of what he had previously glanced over: pale face, watery eyes, reddening nose, and fever spotted cheeks. All signs of someone not being well at all.

“I’m fine, Pogo” – Five attempts to dismiss but cuts off when Pogo levels him with a pointed gaze.

“It takes no extent of my imagination to know that you are not” and after a brief pause, he continues, “come child, you should be resting.”

“I haven’t finished my readings” – Five is cut off as Klaus snatches the book from his hands. Quickly placing the bookmark from where it was tucked in the front of the book to the very back.

“There, you’ve finished it” Klaus states proudly as he drops the book back on Five’s lap. His pleased smile is wiped from his face as Pogo fixes him with a stern look, but he doesn’t make any move to adjust the placement of the bookmark.

“Take your book with you then, if you feel you must” Pogo suggests. “You’d be much better suited to reading in bed, I should think.”

Five sighs as his picks his book up from his lap but makes no further attempt to move.

“Come, Number Five. Your father is studying in his office. If he finds disagreement with this decision, he has me to answer to” Pogo seems to read Five’s mind.

The siblings murmur various farewells as Five stands slowly, letting Pogo lead him out of the room. He only manages a nod toward his siblings as he passes through the group. His body already giving into exhaustion now that he doesn’t have to keep pushing through.

[shou-aizawa]

drained [dadzawa]

pairings: shouta aizawa & reader

warnings: sleep deprivation

summary: reader has a hard time sleeping and suffers the consequences. dadzawa helps out a lil’.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: alrighty, first post! funnily enough i had a completely different idea for a one shot but my own horrible sleeping habits and exhaustion led to me writing this instead. i’m sure it could be better, after all i wrote it on like.... no sleep, BUT im just happy i got anything written at all!

Y/N could barely keep her eyes open, the need to sleep tugging at her mind persistently and slowing her down. Her movements were heavier, less coordinated; feet dragging along the floor as she walked, nearly dropping her pencil nearly thirteen times in just one lesson. Not to mention her head was aching with no end in sight, a constant thumping at her temples.

It was simple. She was tired. Exhausted. Dead on her feet.

But it wasn’t like she’d stayed awake all night on purpose, god no. She’d laid in bed the night before for hours, tossing and turning, seemingly unable to find a comfortable position no matter how she positioned herself. 

By the time five a.m came around, she’d given up trying to fall asleep and chose to get up instead, she had an alarm set for five thirty anyway so what was the harm in getting an even earlier start than usual? It wasn’t the first time she’d done it either, her sleep schedule had been in shambles recently, so it was hard to stick to any solid routine.

She went on a morning jog, breathing in the fresh, morning air and feeling just that little bit more awake. When she got back to the dorms and showered, then fixed herself some breakfast, she was feeling almost normal, as if she’d slept through the night like she was supposed to.

Y/N was foolish enough to let herself be lured into this false sense of security; maybe she would actually make it through the day without much issue, then she could cuddle up in her bed that night and catch up on the sleep she’d missed out on.

Oh how foolish she was.

She lasted maybe three hours into the school day before her lack of sleep began to catch up with her, and her focus crashed. Concentrating on what Present Mic was trying to teach felt gradually more and more impossible. Taking notes? Forget it. Her handwriting was sloppy and the pen just wouldn’t stop slipping out of her fingers.

It was infuriating. Y/N didn’t even realise tears of frustration were pooling in her eyes until one of them dripped down onto her notebook. She gasped quietly in surprise, quickly dropping her pen - on purpose this time - and wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

Once she was sure her eyes were dry, she risked a look around the room. At first glance it seemed as though no one had noticed, but when she looked again, paying more attention this time around, she caught the worried glances some of her friends were throwing her way.

She caught Uraraka’s eye, noticing the worried frown on the girl’s face, and quickly sent a small, hopefully reassuring smile her way. Uraraka didn’t seem exactly convinced… or did she? Honestly Y/N was struggling to decipher the expression on her friend’s face, and decided to just turn back to Present Mic’s lecture, picking her pen back up with a shaking hand.

She could do this. All she had to do was get through the rest of this class, lunch, training, homework, then she could finally sleep. It’d be fine. Definitely.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl from that point on. What Y/N could’ve sworn was an hour, turned out to just be ten, agonising minutes. When the class was finally dismissed for lunch, she packed her notebooks away, only to have one slip from her grasp and fall to the floor with a dull thump, some of the pages crumpling in the process.

She cursed under her breath, reaching down to pick it up, only for it to be lifted by someone else. Could she not do anything by herself?! She glanced up with a frown and was met with the concerned looks of her friends. It was now that she noticed the classroom was practically empty save for her and her friends, and a couple other stragglers. When did time suddenly decide to go faster? It didn’t seem exactly fair.

“Here you go!” Midoriya said quickly, attempting to straighten some of the notebook pages out before handing it back to Y/N. She blinked, then took it carefully, making sure to keep a tight grip on it as she slotted it into her backpack between her other books.

“Thanks,” she said, surprised at how quiet her voice was, but deciding not to dwell on it and instead zipping her backpack up and slinging it over her shoulder before standing up. “I should be more careful, I guess,” she added with a shrug, forcing a chuckle that apparently did nothing to ease her friends’ worry.

“Are you alright, Y/L/N?” Iida spoke up, tilting his head slightly with the question, his brow furrowed with concern more than anything. She couldn’t look that bad, right?

It took her a second to think of a reply. “Me? I’m fine! Why wouldn’t I be?” She said, a nervous laugh following the answer. “You know what I am as well as fine? Hungry. That’s what. Let’s go to lunch already!” She announced, forcing what she hoped was some sort of brightness into her tone, then making her way towards the classroom door.

“I saw you, uhm, crying.. In class earlier,” Uraraka said as she and the other two followed. “Just got a little worried, that’s all,” she smiled slightly, and Y/N felt a pang of guilt for making her friends worry.

“Oh- yeah, that. I just got a bit of dust in my eye, I think,” she said over her shoulder as she walked down the hallway. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” she added, smiling apologetically.

Once again, her friends didn’t seem convinced and Y/N had to wonder if she was really such a bad liar. Not like it mattered. She would be fine by tomorrow, she just had to get through today! She was sure that if she just got some food in her, she would get just enough energy to actually make it through.

Oh boy, was she wrong.

Lunch had gone fine, Y/N had managed to choke some food down and even join in the conversation at her table. She still got the odd worried glance, but she hardly even noticed. For just a little while, she felt better, less… well, dead.

And then training started.

It wasn’t anything that she would usually have a problem with; just some sparring with her classmates. But the problem was she just couldn’t keep up. Her blocks were sloppy, her punches weak, and all the while, a strong headache thrummed in her temples, making her feel as though at any moment she would just lose her lunch.

Not wanting to back out, however, she kept going with training, trying to push herself to be quicker and make herself look less pathetic than she currently did. Her headache seemed dead set on stopping her though, getting stronger with each passing minute.

She was paired up with Kaminari when it all just got too much. In all honesty, the blond kicked her ass. Y/N just lacked the strength to keep herself upright, nevermind raising her arms to attempt any kind of defense, she still tried, she couldn’t just give up so easily.

She’d just smacked one of Kaminari’s punches away, and was taking a second to catch her breath, when his fist came flying back, landing right on her cheek. The impact shook her and she stumbled back, tripping over her own feet and landing on the mat heavily. The pain in her head seemed to double- no, triple, and when she tried to move, to get up, her body barely responded.

“What’d you do, Kaminari?!”

“What do you mean ‘what did I do!?’ I just did what-”

Some part of Y/N knew that she should open her eyes, try to reassure everyone that she was fine, but the rest of her was just relieved to be lying down, to finally be getting some rest. The last thing she remembered was someone calling her name, and a hand on her shoulder, then she slipped into unconsciousness, getting the rest she desperately needed.

When she opened her eyes again, the first thing she saw was a stark white ceiling. She felt a lot more comfortable than she last remembered being, and glancing down at herself she realised she was tucked into one of the beds in Recovery Girl’s office. She was mostly confused, wondering how she’d gotten there and, more importantly, what had happened.

Someone cleared their throat next to her and Y/N immediately sat up and glanced over, eyes wide in surprise. She let herself relax just a little when she saw it was just Mr Aizawa. Emphasis on ‘a little’.

“Mr Aizawa, sir!” She said, coughing a little afterwards, her throat felt way too dry. Her teacher held out a bottle of water, and she took it after a moment’s hesitation, uncapping it and taking a couple small sips. “I- what happened?”

“Sleep deprivation,” the man said simply, and Y/N had a feeling he was familiar with the symptoms himself. “You pushed yourself too hard on too little sleep, and ended up getting knocked unconscious by Kaminari.” He paused. “You gave him a bit of a scare, he thought he’d killed you with that punch.”

The fuzzy memories Y/N had became a little clearer, and she lowered her gaze, fidgeting with the blanket.. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would get so out of hand.”

Aizawa gave her a questioning look, and after a moment she continued.

“I’ve just- haven’t been able to sleep too well recently,” she mumbled. “Waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to get back to sleep, that kind of stuff. I had a bad night where I just didn’t get to sleep at all and- I thought I could just take a nap after school or something, I felt fine for a while, so I didn’t think it’d be so bad.”

“You can’t push yourself like that, Y/L/N.” Aizawa said, his voice seeming to take on a more gentle tone. “Getting enough sleep is important, it should be a priority. So if you’re struggling to sleep, talk to someone about it; me, Recovery Girl, any of the teachers, really. We’re here to help you after all. Got it?”

Y/N nodded after a moment, taking a deep breath. “Got it. Thank you, Mr Aizawa.”

He nodded too, reaching out and giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze before standing up. “Recovery Girl’s going to keep you on bed rest for a while, just until you can get that sleep cycle of yours back in order. I’ll have one of your friends bring you notes from the classes you missed today so that you can catch up whilst you’re here.”

Y/N frowned, processing that. “Wait- What do you mean- how long was I out for?”

“Just under twenty-four hours, give or take.”

She groaned, mostly out of annoyance at the fact that she now had to play catch up. Aizawa chuckled slightly.

“Don’t stress yourself out, Y/L/N,” he said. “You’ll get back up to speed no problem. For now, just focus on resting, alright?”

Y/N nodded, then watched Aizawa leave. Once alone, she couldn’t resist wrapping herself up in the cozy blankets and letting her eyes slip shut again, drifting off to sleep in a much more peaceful manner this time around.

[seyaryminamoto]

Been thinking for a while that I’d like to do a light behind-the-scenes glimpse into one of the themes in the newest Gladiator story arc. While it’s not the very core element of the arc, the source of Azula’s current struggle in the story came from... an unexpected place.

Unexpected as in, it came from LOK.

Okay, in all fairness, it’s not quiiiiiiiite something that came from LOK itself, but it’s a take on an idea I had while pondering the various reasons why Asami’s character wouldn’t really take off for me in the show. Well, beyond the obvious reasons why it wouldn’t *cough* Book 2 *cough*... 

I’ve always said I’m more than a little confused by how a character like Asami, with just 20-something years of age at the time of LOK Book 4, has enough talent and know-how to not only be a top-of-the-line engineer (which, yes, is believable enough on its own), but to also be a CEO in her own company (I gueeeess since the company falls into her hands and she mismanages it plenty in Book 2, it’s not that impossible to feature this in conjunction with the first thing?), a clothing designer, an architect AND a urbanist, capable of driving every machine known to man, an outstanding hand-to-hand fighter...!

... If you really think about it in cold blood, it feels like a little too much.

BUT. Instead of boringly accusing Asami of being a Mary Sue (which I’m sure some people might) for having a thousand talents that we don’t really see her work for, that she just developed offscreen, I thought the show would have benefited greatly from actually focusing on how Asami is handling the constant, desperate need of so many authorities in Republic City to have HER resolving all their problems.

Therefore, instead of a Reunion episode with a conflict focused on rescuing a kidnapped Wu (whom I profoundly dislike as a character, not for his role, but his personality is simply barf-worthy for me and the amount of focus Book 4 gave him was, as a lot of things, detrimental to the show as a whole, in my opinion), I thought LOK’s Book 4 could have instead featured a Reunion episode focused on Asami... which, of course, would also be a nice way to fix some of the lackluster onscreen development of Korrasami. So... let’s go onwards with my episode pitch:

Picture that Korra is about to reunite with Mako and Asami for the first time in all those years, same as in canon. Asami arrives! Yay, Korra is happy, Asami compliments her hair, just like in canon... aaaand then Asami says she can’t really stay, she just dropped by quickly because this REALLY matters to her, but there’s this pressing issue going on at the company and she has to deal with it RIGHT NOW, because no one else can. So, woops.

Korra is completely disappointed (and probably doesn’t even understand WHY she’s so disappointed, hinting at deeper feelings for Asami that Korra hasn’t even stopped to reason with yet), but she sees Asami off while pretending this doesn’t bug her (for Asami’s benefit), and ends up spending the evening with Mako but clearly she’s not enjoying it as much as she hoped to. Which could result in Mako being pretty surprised by whatever closeness and bond those two seem to have now, noticing that he seems to have fallen to second place in Korra’s eyes somehow.

So! Skipping ahead, perhaps to the next day, Korra tries to check on Asami again! :D Oh, but she’s got to work on the airbenders’ outfits, some have been having trouble with the aerodynamics of it, and it’s just not working as Asami intended, so more calculations are needed! She takes to studying on the subject frantically, has to figure out what formula she’s missing or messing up, and while Korra offers to help, she knows there’s not really anything she can do to give Asami a hand since this stuff is well out of Korra’s area of expertise.

Then, when Asami is finally finished, OH NO! An emergency in the train she inaugurated at the start of the season! Asami has to go deal with that too! And of course, Korra goes too, while wondering how TF does this damn city even run without Asami...

... And then realizing it actually doesn’t. There’s a president who basically dumps all the difficult issues on Asami because she has the know-how and the resources to deal with all the city’s problems, there’s an airbending master who requested for that same girl to help with the designs of his people’s combat outfits instead of dealing with it himself or finding someone else to help, there’s an entire vehicle company (ranging from cars to AIRPLANES) that depends on HER. And it’s just SO. MUCH. SHIT. For a girl who’s like... 20? 21? How old is Asami at this point? xD I don’t even remember. But the point I’m trying to get to...

Is that Asami should be overwhelmed. She hasn’t had anyone helping her, she deals with everything alone, and it doesn’t matter how hard she tries to work through this, there’s always one more problem, one more obstacle, one more bothersome thing she has to tackle, and nobody seems to stop and think that maybe she could use a break. That maybe she needs a nap because she hasn’t had one in 20 months. That maybe things in this damn city would be in a better place if people didn’t rely on her, and her alone, to resolve the bulk of their problems.

Korra, though, with her latest character growth (... that I’m not really fond of anyhow, but still...), has become a lot better at understanding people’s emotions. And her job as an Avatar is, amongst many things, to help people: someone she cares about deeply, her best friend future girlfriend, is currently going through so much crap and the truth is, Asami needs help. Whether Asami realizes it or not, she needs it. And so, whether it’s Korra’s job or not to help her, that’s all Korra wants to do right now. 

So Korra enlists Mako and then all three deal with whatever that train emergency might be! Asami probably rejects their help at first, out of force of habit of doing everything alone lately, until Korra tells her she doesn’t have to do that anymore. And then Asami’s mind is blown because yeah, maybe there’s a bunch of older people in charge who are happy to dump all responsibilities on her! But that doesn’t mean she has to accept it meekly and save all their asses time after time... and it also doesn’t mean she has to deal with everything alone.

After the train problem is resolved, Korra and Asami (maybe Mako too? But for Korrasami’s purposes, it can just be those two) get to have a small chat about what life has been like for Asami since Korra vanished. The conversation doesn’t merely focus on Hiroshi, which... *cringes* let’s not get into that. It focuses on Asami and the hardships she’s dealing with, seeing as the city is basically using her as a non-bender Avatar, in the sense of leaving all the problem-solving to Asami alone. Korra probably apologizes, Asami probably tells her not to feel guilty, because she has had it rough, and Asami understands that better than anyone, especially after what she’s been through lately.

It’s a cute, heartfelt moment, not necessarily romantic yet, but featuring a strong, meaningful bonding scene between these two! Asami wants to go back to work on some pending stuff, and Korra respects that, though she warns Asami not to overdo it. Asami promises she won’t... and the next time Korra checks on her, Asami is asleep on her desk or something like that. Korra smiles and puts a blanket on her shoulders, and when someone else arrives to say something REALLY BAD is going on, Korra shushes them and decides to deal with it herself (as long as she can), and, if she can’t, she’ll find someone else to do it in Asami’s stead so the girl can sleep safe and sound for the first time in ages.

Episode pitch over! :’D

*siiiiiiiiiigh* alright, so yeah, this was something I originally thought of as a replacement episode, to further explore and establish a bond between Korra and Asami that wouldn’t really resolve all of the rushed-Korrasami problems... but it would make it so much clearer that those two share a different bond, and a very special understanding of each other, that the other two Krew members simply don’t have with either of them. It’d deepen their relationship, but the most important element about this for me was that it’d be an Asami-focused episode and plotline. However brief it would have been, my idea was to feature Asami facing her own problems, not problems based on her relationship with other people (be it family or romance). It was also a way to show that she’s not indestructible or just the go-to problem solver with neverending resources and talents that the plot can exploit at leisure whenever it feels like it. And, most importantly, that Asami can’t and SHOULDN’T be the answer to every problem in Republic City, especially when she’s only delivering those answers off-screen, offering the viewers next to no chance to see her in action, kicking ass at all the things she apparently has insane expertise on.

As far as I know, the two LOK comic trilogies haven’t really done much for Asami either. I haven’t read them so I could be wrong, but from what I can gather from comments of people who have read them and the books’ summaries, she’s still Korra’s girlfriend first and foremost, gets kidnapped so she can be used as a hostage to manipulate Korra, and then gets brainwashed into fighting against Korra...? If this is truly how it is, again, Asami just gets reduced to a satellite character, in the sense that she just revolves around other people as though that’s all there is to her character, canon-wise. Which... makes me sad. She had potential, plenty of potential worth exploring, if only the show’s writing had been more paused and allowed their characters to breathe and grow organically, as a consequence of their own actions and decisions rather than by being forced into hellish situations persistently until they broke out of desperation.

So... LOK really had the chance to explore a much more human side of Asami that they’ve neglected to acknowledge so far (from what I know), a chance to deepen her character by displaying that no one of such young age should have so many difficult responsibilities dumped on her shoulders... which, again, could be expanded into a metaphor for the Avatar’s role, showing both Korra and Asami as two highly capable women who could achieve great things... but who need a chance to be normal too, once in a while. From the looks of it, neither of them have had that chance in canon (yes, Korra was stuck in a compound all her life but Asami must have been stuck in constant lessons at every discipline she has mastered? If she can deal with all those jobs of hers as flawlessly as she has, I don’t think she had much of a life before LOK started), and it would have been really nice of the deeper, darker show LOK wanted to be to acknowledge that a bunch of grown-ups, who had relatively smooth lives in their youth, dumping so much heavy work on a pair of girls who are just becoming young adults and barely had childhoods of their own, is just damn nasty :’D just as it was nasty in a show featuring a much younger cast... *innocent whistling*

Alas, this was just one idea that won’t ever go anywhere in canon, as is obvious. I’m sure I mentioned it at least once before, not as thoroughly as I did just now, but this is more or less what I had in mind. If you dump a thousand things on a character, it would only be fair to let them suffer for it, to a fault. Maybe don’t feature them whining because they have soooo much work to do... but turn them into workaholics! Show that they’re struggling to make everything pay off, that this kind of burden isn’t child’s play because in real life, it simply wouldn’t be.

But, as there’s next to no chance Asami will ever get this sort of development, I merely stashed this idea on my back burner, in case it might come in handy in the future... 

... And then I returned to it once Gladiator’s Enforcers became a solid reality. Azula has been dealing with challenges that are rather different from those Asami dealt with... but ultimately, the responsibilities both girls have taken up, Asami in canon and Azula in my story, were just insanely big. Azula, in Gladiator, has had very little time to spare for “secondary” pursuits since the previous arc, and in the current one that has become a problem because she simply CAN’T stop working. She goes home and instead of going to bed, keeps on working. She’s constantly on edge, assuming that any time not spent working is wasted time, time she should take advantage of to further improve her projects and endeavors... to the point where people are starting to notice she’s slightly overwhelmed, extremely stressed out, and needs to calm down :’D

I really had wanted to explore these themes in overachieving characters, who take up far too many responsibilities, more than are reasonable. While I’ll always consider it a really big waste of potential that LOK never gave Asami this particular dimension, despite her character 100% warranted it, at least I had the chance to explore this with Azula instead, and I’m honestly really pleased with the result, because it suits her really well too. The outcome won’t be at all like what I just outlined for the LOK episode that never was, and the current story arc will take a vastly different direction... which is why I thought it would be fun to explain where this particular, new dimension of Azula’s character had come from.

Aaaanyways... the bottomline is, Return to Shu Jing is here. And I reeeeeally love this arc. I hope that those of you reading and staying up to date with the story will love it too!

[mandochlorian]

white flag (kylo ren x reader)

part I part II part III

summary: sneaking out of the resistance base on Ajan Kloss isn’t the safest idea. but you have to reach out to Ben just once more, in case you never see him again.

song inspiration

general masterlist

star wars masterlist

“Get away from me!” You shout, your eyes are wide with fear. It’s so dark that you’re barely able to see the thing in front of you. It’s relentless in its torment, speaking to you in your own voice and racing around the hallway on the Death Star. You swing at it, making sure to hold the Wayfinder tightly in your hand.

“Don’t fight it,” you see the glow of the creature's teeth against you saber and it's only now that you see your weapon has changed colour. It’s once vibrant blue is now red, glowing and hissing like Kylo’s does. “I know you feel it.” It steps towards you, and you can’t help but move your weapon away from her.

“Stop it,” you mutter, watching with curiosity as this dark version of yourself approaches you.

“You could be so powerful together.” It’s almost like looking into a mirror, but your eyes are red and your cheeks are hollow. The thing in front of you... it is isn’t you, yet somehow you feel connected to it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You grit your teeth, wishing this hallucination would cease confusing you.

“You,” she continues, you let her circle you as she speaks, “And the Supreme Leader together would harbour power beyond limitations.”

“No.” You shake your head, looking down at your lightsaber, watching sparks fly from it and fizzle away onto the wet ground, “I... I have hope for him.”

“Unfounded hope!” She exclaims, giving you a look of pity, “Poor child, you know the only way to be with him... is to join him.” Reaching her hand out, she waits for you to take it. “The only way you can be together... is to share a throne.” Something compels you to reach your hand out, slowly but surely. Your hand trembles on its way to meet hers, and she lets out a small laugh at her victory. You’re doing it... you’re embracing your dark side. It doesn’t feel completely right but... in this moment of weakness, t’s happening.

Before your hand's can touch, her bony fingers grip yours roughly and she pulls you forward with such force, you’re suddenly brought out of your vision. You flinch away, pulling your hand back roughly from the creature but you stop when you see Rey standing in front of you. Her eyes are confused and worried, and she examines your face whilst her lips move. “Y/N!” Her voice comes into focus, holding your hand gently, “It’s Ren. He’s here.”

You look to your other hand, you see the Wayfinder is gone. “N-No, I-”

“I’m impressed.” The deep voice sends shivers down your spine. You can see the dim glow of the Wayfinder at the entrance of the hallway. He has it. How the hell did he take it from you? “You two make quite a team.” He tilts his head at you, watching you through the dark as you march up to him, stepping into the light, unafraid.

You walk directly to him, hand gripping your lightsaber as you stare him down. “Give it.” Rey sneers, eyes glued to the man before you.

Feeling her untamed rage flow through her words, Kylo lets out a shaky breath. You take a step toward him, “Give it to me.” You order, watching as his eyes snap to you, “You’re outnumbered here, Ren.”

Ren. He’s never heard you call him that before. It sounds wrong. Too formal. Hurtful. He brushes it aside as best as he can. “Yet, I hold the power,” he replies, lifting the object up and toying with it, “The only way you’re getting to Exegol is with me.”

He begins to crush it in his fist, but quick enough your lightsaber is at his throat. “No! Drop it... Now!” You exclaim, closer to him than you’d like to be. Your knuckles whiten and your breathing is heavy, “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“You won’t do it,” he whispers, leaning forward and you instinctively pull your lightsaber back so as not to hurt him. You whimper. It reminds you of your vision, but this time it's real. You’re weak. “See?” Kylo whispers, leaning even closer to you, so as to torment you.

Bringing your lightsaber higher, you hold back the tear properly this time, face going emotionless and stoic. He stands up straight. “Do as I say. Or I’ll have no choice but to kill you.” You promise him, clenching your fist around your weapon and taking a gulp.

Kylo casually takes one look at the Wayfinder, pulling his arm back in the air. “No,” you gasp, watching as he throws it down into the depths below. “No!”

You watch it fall from the ledge and sink into the water below, letting out a hateful groan. Your first instinct is to follow it, jumping down after it much to the surprise of Kylo, who is left to fend of Rey and her ignited weapon. The water is freezing and rough, and you struggle to find the object. It’s so dark under the wreck, you’re not sure which way is up anymore. You can hear your heart beating fast. It’s all happening so quickly.

I can feel you struggle. You stop frantically searching, pausing under the water for a moment.

Ben?

Focus, Y/N. You need to focus.

I can’t... All you can think of is the vision, cowering from Kylo, and seeing your blue saber at his throat. Blue. When it was once red. It’s in your head... right? I’m weak. Rushing to the surface of the water, you take a deep breath as you reach it. I’m going to die here... I’m going to die here all alone and everything... everything would have been for nothing.

Breathe. Just breathe.

You’ve never been alone, Y/N.

Sucking in a breath, you close your eyes. One last shot. Your hands are stretched out and you dive under the water, and when you open them again it feels as though everything is clear. The light from the Wayfinder glows amongst the dark water. Reaching for it, you kick your legs as hard as you can, feeling your fingertips graze the object. Even your chest is struggling to comprehend the sudden lack of air as you touch the object once more, just missing it. Angrily, you kick one last time and finally, your hand wraps around the object. It feels like pure instinct getting back to the surface, and when you do, your throat aches with the force of air you heave into your lungs.

The current is unrelenting, and the waves push you against a wall, almost pining you there. At this point, your arms and legs are aching. All you can hear is the constant crashing of water against your body and you try not to let the exhaustion overcome you when you suck in a deep breath. Kicking off the wall, you shoot yourself into open waters. Anything’s better than drowning in the Death Star wreck. As soon as you appear from outside of the wreck, you feel a pair of strong hands on your waist. It takes you everything to not let your body relax against Kylo, but you accept it as he heads for the platform above the water.

But it isn’t much better, you feel yourself being pulled back into the currents orbit. “Hold on!” you can barely hear him shout to you, though his lips are beside your ear. You hold him, your eyes fluttering shut over and over again as you try to fight off the exhaustion. Your back smacks against the wet metal as the water drifts back into its natural pattern. Coughing, you turn on your side to expel the water you had swallowed while trying to stay alive. The Wayfinder is still in your hand. That’s what matters most. Looking up, you see the red spark of Kylo’s lightsaber firing up and you can help but inch away from him until you realise his eyes are focused behind you.

“I won’t let you take her!” Rey shouts, her weapon pointed at Kylo’s as he stands and faces her. You steady your breathing, both hands placed on the platform as another cough wracks your body, “You will not corrupt her!”

“She belongs at my side!” Kylo sneers back, his own lightsaber ready by his side as he stands over Rey, “It is her destiny, you know it to be true.”

“No!” Rey shouts, striking her weapon against Kylo’s.

Something drains you extra fast as you stand up, Kylo glancing over at you as Rey stumbles to her knees. You barely make sense of the scene, feeling a loss in the centre of your chest. eyes are fixed onto Kylo’s, your thoughts drift to Leia. Kylo must feel the same thing. His face loses all expression, his hand going limp and his lightsaber falling as his head hangs low.

And suddenly... so suddenly, you see red light penetrate Kylo’s stomach. You blink. You’re seeing wrong. You have to be seeing wrong, this can’t be real. But then you feel it, and the pain has you doubled over in a groan as you clutch your chest. The ache you felt expands and you look up to see Kylo stumbling back, trying to catch his fall as his back leans against the metal.

“No,” you gasp, stumbling to your feet and rushing to him, “No! What have you done?” You mumble to Rey, your voice quiet and your vision blurry as you stare at the weak man in front of you.

“I... I-” Rey stutters, dropping Kylo Ren’s lightsaber by her feet, “Leia.” Her mind is on the General, the loss of her presence, and Rey rushes to Finn and Jannah who watch from a different platform.

“Ben...” you cry, unable to tear your eyes from his wound, “No, no, no,” you shake your head, placing one hand on his cheek, “Please, please...” you’re not sure who you’re talking to or what exactly you’re begging for.

He whimpers, unable to stop gasping to speak to you. Ben’s eyes are wide as he watches you, his lips parted and twitching slightly as he tries to talk, “G-go,” is all he’s able to muster up. He doesn’t want you to see him. Not like this. He doesn’t want you to be there when his lifeless body is still, unable to pass gently into the force.

You don’t know what to say. Or do. You cry as you look into his exhausted eyes. So you just press your lips to his, for the first time in such a long time. And your tears fall onto his cheeks, rolling down his neck as your hand rests on his panting chest. You feel like you can’t breathe for a second, it feels as though you’re being drained of life. When you pull away, you can see a faint smile on his face. But as quickly as it was there, it fades.

You sob loudly, resting your forehead onto his chest as you cry out. Your screams are unintelligible, almost animalistic. Finn, who watches, doesn’t know what to do.

“We have to get out of here!” He grabs you by the arms, pulling you back as the waves around you build higher and higher. “We have to go, Y/N.” There’s nothing he can do. He holds you to his chest, watching Kylo go still, and he tries his best to pull you to the Falcon. “Please.”

“This wasn’t meant to happen!” You cry into Finn's chest, eyes squeezed shut as water from the waves splashes down on the back of your head, “I wanted... I wanted him t-to find peace. For once! Ben, Ben... I couldn’t help him. All I wanted to do was help him!” Your body wracks with sobs, and you cry so hard that sounds cease to come from your mouth. You whisper now, looking out into the stormy ocean as you’re pulled onto the Falcon, “I wish... I wish you lived in peace for longer.”

taglist: kinkywitchy ah-callie

[fsketchart]

A Second Chance - Chapter 3

I'm so sorry for the wait but here's a summary of the sections.

[Advertisement Voice]

WELCOME! Over here to the left we have a heartfelt battle between Evillustrator and a group of rebels. Will Marc's feelings for Nathaniel get in the way, or will he get the job done?

On the right here, we have the latest new Batman vs Superman argument that just came in. It's a limited addition and includes a bonus Wonder Women add on to the set.

Now, we just recently added a new product onto the shelves, including a misunderstanding, panic, and an argument that is an partner set to the previous.

Let's see if first impressions really do stick.

Au Created by @ozmav​

NOTES : 

Thank you so much for the lovely feedback, I truly do appreciate all of the love and support this fic has gotten so far, it absolutely blows my mind that I've gotten so much feedback from this. This chapter in particular is almost 3000 words, sorry if it's a bit long. It was definitely longer than I was intending it to be, but I think it turned out for the best. Also, apologies if there are any errors in here. I'll be going back in later to double check and proofread it. If you catch any errors grammatically, feel free to let me know!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Please...Nathaniel don’t do this.  I know you have to be in there!” Marc cried, hands trembling as his knees felt numb.

“That’s Evillustrator to you.  What we had was nice Marc, but if you truly cared you would want me to be happy.  I finally feel at peace, I can draw to my hearts content and every piece become a reality.  If you truly cared, you wouldn’t be trying to stop me right now,” Evillustrator said.

“I know you, Nathaniel, better than I know myself.  I know that you’ll regret what you’ve done, please come with us and give me your pen.  Then, after ladybug gets here, the damage you’ve caused can be reversed, and we can go back to-”

“Go back to what?  When you and your class gets to be happy while I sit in silence in my class?  While I get harassed and bullied, constantly put in your shadow while you’re basking in attention?  The spotlight will soak you up.  Every creation I make is made with so much passion and time, yet nothing ever competes with yours.  Every word I say means nothing in comparison to people like Marinette!  Lila and Hawkmoth have helped me realize this, and you will pay for what you’ve done,” Evillustrator yelled, grabbing his pen and quickly drawing roughly on his board.

His sketching was rushed and rough, as he quickly drew harsh lines, forming many, many stick figures.  Each stick figure slowly stood up , and soon there was an army, each one immediately charging.

Max quickly slammed his laptop shut and moved it aside on the ground, abandoning his bag.  

Aurore on the other hand, immediately started fighting back, her umbrella dueling as both a shield and a sword.  Marc quickly wore off the shock and started grabbing his keys in his hand and began slashing wildly at the stick figures, but to no avail.  Max, however had a different approach.

“Look, at his tablet.  It’s flashing red, it must be running out of battery so he’s drawing messier and faster,” Max said, pointing to Evillustrator.

“Why is that?  He didn’t have that issue before!” Aurore yelled, as she extended her umbrella to block the overhead stick figures, jumping down upon her.

“Hawkmoth must be running out of energy.  If the tablet is shutting down, then I’m guessing he’s too busy to save the stick figures.  We need to make him use all the rest of the battery without saving the stick figure drawing.  If the tablet shuts down, then hopefully the drawings won’t be saved, and they’ll disappear!” Marc yelled, as he attacked the stick figure jumping behind from Max.

Aurore exchanged a look between the two boys before yelling, “Guys!  It’s okay!  I can handle myself over here!”

Evillustrator immediately began to draw more complicated figures.  Gotcha right where I want you!  If I can just get a few more drawings out, they’ll be right where I want them!  Evillustrator schemed.

Aurore however, quickly dodged all their attacks, and began to run wildly while using her umbrella as a shield in front of her, pushing all the other stick figures in front of her out of the way as she charged on through.

Evillustrator began to get more and more frustrated, as he drew more and more.  Eventually, Marc and Max joined in, causing distractions from all over the place.  As time went on, Evillustrator began to get more and more furious, until one point, he was fed up.  He quickly drew out a sword and soon it formed at the feet of one of his stick figures, as it charged for Aurore.  That’ll teach her, no more Mr.Nice GuyTM.  He thought grimly.

Marc, however, was horrified and immediately ran to Aurore.  Marc began to profusely fight the figure but as time went on, his footing got lazier until eventually Marc was knocked on the ground as Aurore was holding off more stick figures.

The stick figure wasted no time in charging forth, extending their sword and raising it above their head.

Nathaniel’s eyes widened as he tried to scream, yet his voice was silenced.  He began trying to erase the stick figures, but lost track of which stick figure was which and who had the sword.

I’m so sorry I failed you, Nathaniel.  Please forgive me.  Marc said, giving up and welcoming death’s embrace.  He closed his eyes and waited.

Yet it never came.

All at once, all of the stick figures began to glitch out and became distorted, and right before the faceless stick figure’s sword came down, a mere inch away from Marc’s eyes, it too froze.  Soon afterwards, each stick figure disappeared, and so did the sword.

Using Evillustrator’s frozen shock to his advantage, Max leaped up and snatched the pen away from him, and Aurore slammed it into two.  Immediately, Evillustrator’s costume dropped as he de-transformed.  Nathaniel stood there, horrified as he took in the site around him, as saw the smashed pen and dead drawing tablet beside him.  He eyes watered as he began to quietly sob, his nose becoming stuffy and his face becoming red.  His shoulders and hands shook as Marc slowly stepped towards him.

“I-I’m so sorry...I’ve d-done horrible horrible things.  I sw-swear I never meant any of it,” he said, as he hiccuped and sniffled.  He then let out a pained sob as Marc immediately embraced him, resting Nathaniel’s head on his shoulder.  Aurore strangled the butterfly in her hands as Max grabbed his previously empty computer case as they shoved it inside.  Aurore and Max began to laugh and cry out of relief as they collapsed in relief on the ground.

“It’s alright, Nathaniel.  I know that wasn’t you just there, and you’re okay now, you’re safe.  I promise you that,” Marc said, brushing away his tears.

“But I let Hawkmoth take advantage of me!  I let him take control!  The things I’ve done are unforgivable-”

“You were manipulated, taken advantage of, and used.  But dwelling on it won’t fix it.  What will help fix is taking Hawkmoth and Mayura down, along with the other villains that are coming to Paris.  Please, Nathaniel we need you.  I need you,” Marc spoke softly.  For a moment, there was silence until...

“I’ll join you,” Nathaniel spoke at last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~(⌐■_■)~~~~~~~~~~~~

“-we are living in constant fear, and the heroes have been fighting non-stop since the war began.  Please, we are begging you!.......send help.”

Bruce paused before sighing.  “Was that all of them?” he asked, trying to analyze and break down the information.

“Sure is.  As I said, these claims are getting barbaric.  Anyone can hire an animation studio and editor to make these silly edits, but there hasn’t been any documentation of actual property damage, and look at the Eiffel tower!  It’s being destroyed in every one of these and yet it’s ‘magically’ rebuilt in the next video.  Not to mention, some girl on a teenager’s blog is trying to present herself as a Mary Sue, she’s delusional and stuck in a fantasy to claim that she’s best friends with a superheroes and celebrities.  This has got to be some online joke or trend-”

“But where would these teenagers get the budgets from?  What about the news articles written by adults?” Bruce challenged.

“You can’t seriously think these could be real.  Ladybug and Chat Noir?  Really?  No one’s super powers could reverse the broken arms of people, the ill and the sick, and repair city damage in one fell swoop.  Or better yet, destroy the Eiffel tower with one touch.  It’s CGI, probably funded by those adults too,” Clark countered.

“What about super strength, flight, speed, laser vision?” Bruce argued.

“Supposedly all you have to do to beat these villains is break the options, like a photograph.  So threatening, just terrifying right?” Clark challenged.

“Your weakness if a rock.  A rock.  Is it so far fetched that these could maybe be real?  The Miraculous, Ladybug, Chat Noir, they could easily be real or fake.  We need to do more investigation than this,” Bruce concluded.

“Did someone say the miraculous?” Diana said, freezing in her spot by the doorway.

“Oh wow, looks someone uses the door like a normal person...COUGH COUGH BRUCE COUGH COUGH…”

Diana gave him a stern glare.

“We were just going over video feeds of the current condition of Paris.  Villains like the Joker, Harley Quinn, and Ivy have all been spotted in Paris,” Bruce said, tuning out Clark.

“No, before that you said there was a black cat and ladybug Miraculous?” Diana said, with wide eyes.

“Yes, there were supposedly reports of two...young adults I think?  They were dressed up as vigilantes and were supposedly fighting crime, why do you ask?  Have you heard of them?” Bruce asked.

“Heard of them?  Why my mother grew up telling me stories about her days as the super heroine Ladybug!  Her tales were my bedtime stories for years!” she retold, with a fond look in her eyes.

“Your mother?  That girl looked nothing like Hippolyta, are you sure you’re not mixing it up with something else?” Bruce asked.

“I’m quite sure, after all my mother gave up being Ladybug a long time ago.  The Ladybug Miraculous doesn’t just have a sworn duty to one place, but to the rest of the world.  My mother couldn’t travel to the rest of the world while looking after the amazons, and thus entrusted the miraculous to one of the Guardians,” she spoke.

“Who was is this Guardian?  The Black Cat guy?” Clark questioned.

“Oh heavens no, the Guardians were much much older than that boy is.  These superheroes are powered by an object called the Miraculous, granting each user immense power.  The Guardians are meant to protect these Miraculous, but after the incident at one of the temples...only one of them is still left...but anyways, the Ladybug and Chat Noir Miraculous are extremely powerful, the strongest Miraculous actually,” she explained, while walking over to the video files.

“What do these Miraculous do?” asked Bruce.

“And again, how does that explain the damage to the city?” Clark added.

“Each Miraculous has a different ability; time travel, teleportation, complete destruction, and creation, you name it.  Each Miraculous has a unique ability, that they can only use once.  The Ladybug Miraculous represents luck and has the ability to reverse any Miraculous caused damage.  Buildings, broken bones, illness, you name it.  The only thing the Miraculous of creation and luck can’t reverse is death, for death lies in the hands of the counter partner, the Black Cat,” Wonder Woman said, as she sped up the videos and glimpsed through them.

“The Black Cat represents death and misfortune, and with a simple touch of a hand, entire buildings can collapse and fade to nothing within a second.  If you’re unprotected with a Miraculous suit, the Black Cat’s abilities can kill you in less than a second, and Ladybug won’t be able to reverse that damage.  Each Miraculous, when new, can only use their abilities once in a battle, but as they grow more experienced, can get more abilities or quirks for each battle,” Wonder Woman finished.

“So the reason there is undocumented damage is due to the Ladybug woman?” Bruce finally asked, while side glancing at Clark.

“Precisely, meaning these claims may very well be legitimate.  However, there still isn’t much seen with Gotham’s villains, there are barely any sightings,” Diana added.

“Any lead is still good enough for me,” Bruce said, already getting ready to leave for Paris, and booking an appointment on his phone.  However, he stopped when he looked down to see his phone exploding with phone calls and texts from Alfred.  This of course sent Bruce into a panic, Alfred knew he was going to be out in the suit, and to not call unless there were emergencies.

Quickly, Bruce dialed Alfred back while rushing out the window door.  Immediately, Alfred picked up.

“We are going to have a visitor.  I will be preparing the guest bedroom.  Please arrive immediately, it has to do with the condition of Paris.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~(⌐■_■)~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’ll be right, Marinette.  I must go and prepare your room.  Would you like me to prepare you some tea?” Alfred asked, while grabbing her backpack.  He beckoned to the Miracle Box, but Marinette shook her head.  She shook her head, taking the box and placing it in her lap.

“I’ll be alright, you’ve done so much for me already.  I will never be able to repay you for your kindness,” she responded.  Alfred nodded.  As he was about to leave, he got a phone call from Master Bruce.

“Wait right here, I’ll be back soon.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~(⌐■_■)~~~~~~~~~~~~

Each day was worse than the last.  There were no known leads about the Joker’s whereabouts, and Damian was getting impatient and pent up.  With nowhere else to put his energy, he took Titus out for a run.

Damian knew the Joker was planning something, and it was driving him nuts.  As they strolled around the city, Titus could tell his heart just wasn’t in it and abruptly pulled on his shirt, nearly causing him to fall over.

“What is it, Titus?” Damian asked, before taking notice of the sky.  His father would surely be home by now.  He sighed before changing course, and making his way back home.

When he reached the doorstep, he realized the light was on in the spare bedroom. Strange.  He thought.  Father rarely allows guests over, and always gives them a heads up to be more cautious.

He shrugged as he made his way over to the door.  Suddenly, Titus made a run for it inside and bolted inside towards the living room.

Damian stood up alarmed, ready to attack and dashed around the corner towards the living room.

On the couch, sat a small girl clutching a box.  Her hair was a dreadful mess, and her clothes looked tattered and worn out.  She fidgeting on the couch as she looked around and glanced out the window.

Titus ran over and started barking and trying to grab at and bite the strange box.  He could sense something was strange about the girl, something he wasn’t familiar with and it sent him into a frizzy.  It sent the short girl into a frenzy and she instantly grabbed at the box and made a dash for it.  She leaped over the couch and knocked over the lamp next to it.  She looked panicked but was quickly stopped before she reached the door.

She collided with Damian and fell onto the ground with Titus catching up and barking in her ears as she lie on the ground, shaking in fear.  Her eyes were teary and unfocused, almost lost in the moment.  The Miracle Box shook, and the sounds of jewels and valuables sliding around were heard from inside the box. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had attempted to break into the Wayne Manor to steal its valuables, and Damian was sure it wouldn’t be the last.  Titus’s ears were flattened, his tail between his legs, as his eyes were filled with fear and concern.  Damian’s heart clenched at the sight of Titus looking so scared, before his look hardened into a cold glare at the stranger.

“WHO ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?” Damian demanded, already posed to attack.  When she didn’t respond, he tried to grab the box while Titus was still barking in her ear, fearful of the stranger.

She froze for only a moment before slamming her elbow into his chin and quickly sidestepping him.  Damian charged, startling her enough to drop the box, hearing her call out :

“TIKKI SP-”

Alfred burst into the room stunning the both of them and separated the two immediately.  Damian was about to lunge before Alfred grabbed him from behind and forcefully pulled him off, and then swiftly grabbed the box and placed it into Marinette’s hands.  He grabbed Damian by the shirt and tugged on Titus’s leash, dragging them both outside of the room.

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[littledoveheart]

Mr Parker

(Part 1.)

Tony Stark was incompetent and completely reliant on his assistant, whom he had never really taken the time out of his stagnant day to meet and acquaint with. In his genius philosophical mind, he wondered why on Earth he should offer his extravagant, engaging friendship to someone who worked for him and was therefore owned by him? Why should he even bother to learn their names?

So, it definitely wasn’t a surprise that he didn’t know the name of his assistant and all he did know was that he was the best at what he did, which was constantly dealing with things that the billionaire had forgotten to organise or just didn’t want to organise in general. The only thing he knew about his assistant was that his second name was Parker.

Music filled the room and blasted into Tony’s ears as he calloused hands tinkered with a car engine that he had been pouring over for the last hour while the heavy, gruff sound of AC/DC pooled in his ears like an ocean. A few beeps from the access code to his lab sent a ripple to the pool of his music, snapping him away from his haze of invention.

“Mr Stark, your meant to be half way across the world by now. Your flight was an hour and a half ago. You’re meant to be on that flight right now, yet your down here tampering with a car, when are you-”

“Don’t turn down my music again, i like it loud.” Tony chimed in a distinctive harsh tone in his voice while he settled the engine on the table that was compiled with his tools.

“Well, you shouldn’t be here anyway Mr Stark.”

“Yeah, but seeing as it is my plan,” Tony pointed out while sitting on the huge, new wheels on the car so he was looking up at his assistant and he went into shock at how beautiful this boy was, “I-i thought it would happen when i wanted it too.”

“Ok, i won’t push it more, and Jackson called he has another buyer so do you want it yes or no?”

“Well, is it overpriced?”

“Incredibly so.”

“I need it.”

The silence that followed was awkward and it made even Tony Stark edgy. Mr Parker just stood there, and he was definitely quite feminine the playboy in Stark noted and his brown chocolate eyes lingered on the partly open blouse and straight skirt.

“Buy it, store it.” he coughs nervously, standing up and brushing his way past the assistant whose smell filled his nostrils; his scent was sweet and definitely alluring.

“Ok, the MIT co-”

“Is in June. Please don’t harangue me about this now-”

“Well they’re haranguing me about it so i’m gonna say yes.”

“Yeah well it’s not even clo-”

“I need you to sign this for me before you get on the plane.”

“Why are you trying to get rid of me?”

“I’m not i just have somewhere to be too you know.”

“You never have plans.”

“I’m allowed to have plans on my birthday.”

Well shit. Tony may have forgotten that too. His eyes go wide and he head gives a small wilt down as if in abashment of not remembering. His assistant caught on and gave a small, seemingly forlorn nod.

“It’s your birthday?” The billionaire whispers even if he already had the answered lodged in his brain, infecting him with shame and sorrow of forgetting.

“Yes.”

“I knew that…already?” He breathes as if to save himself from the train wreck of his derailing thoughts of what he could quickly buy or have ordered for the brunette assistant.

“Yeah isn’t that strange, it’s the same day as last year.”

“Yeah well get yourself something nice from me.” Tony stresses as if desperate to make it seem like he was a good enough man to have remembered.

“I already did,” The boy nods softly and looks at his clipboard, “need anything else Mr Stark?”

“What’s your name?” The question sounded appalling considering the fact that the assistant had been working at Stark Industries and for Tony himself for 5 years now to make ends meat.

“Peter Parker.”

Peter. God, Tony was staring at him in complete awe. God he looked divine with a jawline as sharp as glass, honey doe eyes that shimmered with a light, rosy red lips, feather-like hair that hung softly over his pale forehead. Peter was definitely a sight for sore eyes, and Tony couldn’t help but drink him in hungrily.

“Well Peter, happy birthday from me.”

“Thank you Mr Stark.” Peter’s eyes flicked up to Tony’s and creating a grapple with the other. Tony gives a smile that can only be defined by the one thing the billionaire had been sprinting from his entire life to keep his playboy status updated. Love.

**

Peter Parker set the phone down with a tremor as he breathed out unsteadily. He gnawed on his lip while his head drooped low, his eyes cast down to his lap while he trembled.

“And now for breaking news, billionaire, genius, philanthropist and playboy Tony Stark has been kidnapped in Afghanistan and is being held-”

Peter promptly switched off the television, he could no longer bare to hear the reports of his beloved boss’ kidnapping. Peter’s throat was clogged with sobs that desperately wanted to break free, but his soul grew a backbone as he looked over at Dum-E, who was whirring and bleeping in a state of hysteria about his creator and daddy.

“It’s ok Dum-E…he’ll be ok…” Peter swallows as if he were trying to swallow a watermelon, his eyes were pools of unshed tears that were taunting him and threatening to spill. He needed to be strong for Jarvis, for Dum-E, for Happy. For Tony.

Peter was in dismay. Constant questions. Constant queries. He was so sick of all of the questions that were posed to him about Tony’s disappearance and how life at Stark industries would continue on without their leader, their figure head was gone and they wanted answers. Peter, no matter how smart or intelligent, impertinent or brisk, didn’t have anything that he could sweetly whisper to them in comfort for he himself needed comfort.

He couldn’t sleep, his insomnia killing him and working him down and reducing him to a walking zombie that was impetuous for sleep and closure for his boss. Tony was all he had. He was devoted to Tony and gave him his all if anything needed doing he was there, whether it be bills or a months worth of shopping then he would be there.

Peter’s high heels clicked down the hallway while clutching his clipboard to his chest softly, he was antsy and was unsure why. It was a mundane day just like all the others after Tony’s unfortunate kidnapping and held at ransom state, so why was he feeling so on edge about going to work that day?

“Peter! Peter, they’ve found him! He’s on his way home!”

Peter must have been hallucinating, he had to be. It was almost too good to be true and his clipboard bounced off the floor, his cream-complexioned hand clenching his white cotton blouse as he nodded.

“Get the car ready Happy, we’re going to get him.”

Tony Stark breathlessly stood near the huge metallic doors of the aircraft that was transporting him home, and he let out a soft sigh as Rhodes placed a hand on his tender shoulder. He had a permanent memorandum of his time spent as a captive. A relic. A burden. The arc reactor. It gleamed through any shirt that he wore with a harsh intensity and it make Tony sick to his stomach to even look at it. The doors dropped heavily open and the light creeped in and illuminated the entire inside of the plane in which the two stood and it was definitely a welcome site for Tony’s eye sore. But, so was Peter.

Peter’s hair was being whipped to the side of his porcelain face as he stood stationary and for once in his 5 years of service to Tony, who was currently limping out of the plane and over to the brunette assistant, who walked forward too like a magnetic attraction to each other with a force of love, he was not gripping a clipboard. They both stopped about a feet away from each other and gazed.

“Mr Stark, good to have you back…” 

“Good to be back…”

The chemistry between the two was apparent. They were attracted and there was nothing either of them could do to prevent it anymore. They didn’t have a desire to halt the rapidly burning flame of attraction either.

**

“Ow, be gentle!” 

Peter’s heels beat against the unforgiving marble floors and he stops by the glass door of the natural habitat of one Tony Stark. His nimble fingers graze the access code numbers that are burned into his brain and a simple workout for his fingers and he was not at all taken aback when the door swung open. However, he was left in wonderment as he heard small yelps and pained groans. Peter just hoped he hadn’t caught his boss doing that again.

“Be gentle, it’s my first time de-sui-” A clipboard clatters noisily to the floor, laying there as Peter’s mouth soon joined it on the ground with a gasp and squinting eyes.

Red. Gold. Armour. Iron Man.

Tony looks over his metal clad shoulder and gives him a tiny upward quirk of his lips. He knows how bad this looks. Numerous bullet holes all around his makeshift heart that he quite literally wears on his chest and he was the Iron Man.

“Are those bullet holes?”

“Yeah, and let’s face it this is not the worst thing you’ve caught me doing.”

Peter gives a tiny head jerk in the form of a timid nod. Tony de-suits and clambers heavily down from the stand and over to Peter, his heart drumming and beating out of his scarred and destructed chest as he stares at those bewitching honey eyes that stare back.

The walls shake and tremble as Tony’s music shook them to their very core while he tinkered with an iron man suit and trying to fix the waist of his armour in which he resides. He snapped out of his train of thought by heels tapping behind him and over to his tool engulfed workshops.

“Hey, you busy? I got an errand for you Pete.” Tony grumbles as he set the spanner down and he looked over at the brunette boy who was staring back at him with a hint of inquisitive flashes in his honey eyes.

“Take this to my office, look for the recent shippings of my weapons. You’ll probably find it in the smallest file, if not that means they’ve ghosted it which means you need to look for the lowest numerical value.” Tony walks over to his small tracker and presses a few buttons on it and he peered at the screen.

“And if i do get you this information, what will you do with it?”

“Same drill, they’ve been dealing under the table and i’m gonna stop them, Peter, find my weapons and destroy them.”

Peter gives a tiny, exasperated breathy laugh and he nods softly while a coy smile plays on his lips.

“Tony, you know i would help you with anything. But, i cannot help you if you’re going to start all of this again.”

“There is nothing except this. There is the next mission, and nothing else.”

That cut Peter deep, his heart dying to clutch onto the other half as a crack of heartbreak threatened to rip it apart. Tony was all he had, he didn’t have his parents, didn’t have his uncle and aunt, didn’t have any friends to talk to. There was Tony, and nothing else.

“Is that so? Well then i quit.” 

The only thing that snapped Tony’s haze of disbelief was the clatter of Peter’s work badge and heels began to fade away and to the door, and Tony couldn’t let the man he loved leave his life forever.

“You’ve stood by my side all these years while i reap the benefits of destruction and now that i want to protect the people that i put in harm’s way, you’re gonna walk out?”

Peter twirled and looked at him right in the eye as he quivered, catching his wobbling bottom lip between his teeth to not show foreboding.

“You’re gonna kill yourself Tony, and i’m not gonna be apart of it.” ‘I care for you too much, love you too much’ Peter wanted to add, but restrained himself.

“I shouldn’t be alive. Unless it was for a reason,” Tony slumped in his chair as if he was losing his backbone and he was; He was losing Peter who was the one thing that he couldn’t live without, “I’m not crazy Peter…I just finally know what i have to do…And i know in my heart that it’s right.”

Peter seems to stall. His white as a sheet hand slowly stepped back from the door handle while he nodded softly. The straight skirt that he was wearing was restricting his movements as he sauntered over to Tony who was pouring over a piece of his tech while he tried not to look at the love of his life.

“You’re all i have too you know…” Peter whispers softly, anxious about Tony’s reaction but his fears were eased, put to bed and tucked in tightly with a kiss on the head when Tony smiled and gave him a small nod.

“I know…”

**

“Ok, just read from the card. Tony, i spent my night on that speech.” Peter demands as he straightens Tony’s crumpled tie that was loosely hanging from his neck, disregarded by the billionaire.

“Ok, ok, i got it cutie.”

The flirting between the two had now started, and it usually left Peter red, flushed and throbbing in his pants whereas it left Tony smug and pleased.

“Now get up there, Tony.”

Tony walked up to the podium and stared down at everyone that was underneath him, like vultures picking the scraps of any juice of meaty words that Tony would say.

“The truth is…I am Iron Man.”

[shions-songbirds]

The Great Cat Heist (or not)

(Also posted on ao3)

Shouto was sick. Which wasn’t nearly as rare as everyone in class seemed to be convinced it was. Yes, it was rare for him to get very sick, like he was right now, debilitatingly sick, but he was an extremely overstressed child who got the bare minimum of sleep to function growing up, rather than the amount a child his age would’ve actually needed. And even now, he still got far less sleep than he needed and, well, no one could say the life of the students in class A wasn’t exceptionally stressful. What he was saying is, his immune system was terrible at its job and that wouldn’t be changing anytime soon. 

His experience with being sick didn’t make the actual illness any less miserable, though. Fevers were a nightmare, especially considering he could generally regulate his internal body temperature, but, well, fevers existed for a reason, and with his body diverting all its energy to dealing with the virus, he didn’t have the energy to fix it even if he wanted to. Even if that wouldn’t have been a terrible idea. So he pulled his blankets over him more, cold and hot at the same time, a couple stray flurries and flickers occasionally popping into view, and he hoped he could just sweat this thing out and be done with it by the next day. While it was much better to be sick at the dorms than at home, he still didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to miss important lessons and practice. He knew the teachers didn’t much care, so long as he recovered, but he did. 

He huffed. His room was a peaceful place, and it was comforting, designed like his house but without the suffocating presence of his father, without the coldness that permeated every lifeless inch of the house. There were little trinkets around his room, things he’d gotten from his friends on his birthday, or when they went out together, things they brought back from their own trips out saying it reminded them of him. Every corner of his room, traditional as it may be, was steeped in pieces of his friends, in signs that he had grown, that the person he was now was better than the person he was when he first got into UA, with proof that he did have friends now, good ones, people he loved and would do anything for. 

Off to the side, there was a little plant he had gotten when he was out with Izuku, stating that the fluffy green thing reminded him of his friend. He had initially gotten it with intent to give it to his friend, but Izuku had insisted he keep it, and put it into a corner of his room, a reminder that his friend was always “in his corner” it was ridiculously cheesy and so utterly Izuku it had made him laugh and immediately comply. In addition to that, tucked beside his futon, is a dumb fluffy little sleeping cat plushie Hitoshi had given him on his birthday, one that looked like the little cat the two of them had initially bonded over when Hitoshi had found him sitting in the grass on campus, a tiny tabby that had slipped in settled on his lap. He also had a couple terrible but wonderful romance novels on his desk, gifts from Yaoyorozu, a blown up piece of his father’s merch on his dresser, courtesy of his lovely Katsuki, next to a picture Uraraka had given him on his last birthday, and there was more, everywhere. It was wonderful. And a wonderful distraction from the fact that he couldn’t currently breathe through his nose. 

He couldn’t wait until one of his friends could come visit him and make this sickness feel less torturous. Of course, he didn’t want them to get sick, too, but just having someone sitting in the chair at his desk and talking to him sounded wonderful right now, since sleep had eluded him for many, many hours. He was tired, far too tired to properly engage with his friends, probably, but he needed something, if he couldn’t sleep. Something to distract his brain from the constant thought that he was so, so sleepy, and he desperately wanted a good rest. Unfortunately, no distraction would be coming soon, because his friends had class, and until the day was done, he would be forced to lie in bed limply like a dead fish, all alone. 

Or at least that’s what he had expected, until he heard the door of his room fly open and gently bounce against the wall. It wasn’t a loud sound, not a proper bang, but it made a small thunk to accompany the sound of the door clicking open. He glanced up, his forehead covered in sweat, flushed to hell, and he was sure he looked disgusting, but his friends had all seen him in rough states before, and he really didn’t care if they saw him sick.

Seeing Hitoshi, though, was a surprise. And it seemed that was shared, because he seemed surprised at the state Shouto was in as well. Did nobody tell him he was ill? He was certain all of the class had known, since the teachers did, but he supposed not. Huh. He expected, then, the first words out of his friend’s mouth to be something that expressed some modicum of concern but it was not so. No, instead he got:

“You’re sick? What do you mean you’re sick? You’re my partner in crime!” which… rude. He didn’t choose to be sick, thank you. He glared weakly at Hitoshi, who completely ignored it. “I needed you to help me with something. A heist.”

“A heist?” Shouto asked, entirely unimpressed and showing it quite clearly, despite his voice sounding like he was choking on a cat.

“A cat heist!” Hitoshi explained. “How am I supposed to do a cat heist without my cat heist partner?” he asked, and really, that was not Shouto’s problem. While he enjoyed a good cat heist on a day when he didn’t feel like death but on drugs, he couldn’t find even an ounce of care within himself at this moment for it. Though… having a cat to cuddle with while sick would be pretty nice. 

Okay maybe it was his problem. He looked at Hitoshi.

“What, exactly, were you thinking?” he asked. Hitoshi grinned like a cat who had caught the canary, or, he supposed, the boy who had trapped another into catching the cat that caught the canary. That was complicated. Far too complicated for his feverish brain. 

“Okay so there’s this really cute calico outsi--” he cut himself off, a frown covering his face. He shook his head. “Actually, no, there’s no way we’re doing a cat heist when you’re sick. That’s way too much exertion. I’m not gonna be the one responsible for you dropping dead.”

“I won’t die,” Shouto huffed with a roll of his eyes, “it’s just a fever.” The word fever was punctuated with a cough. Hitoshi shook his head again. 

“That’s a definite no. I should’ve realized when you missed class that this was a no go.” Which… was true. He probably definitely should’ve realized but still. Now Shouto was hooked on the idea of cuddling a cat. 

“You can’t get my hopes up for cat cuddles and not deliver,” he huffed. That got a reaction out of Hitoshi, a small nod of acknowledgement that it was simply cruel to do that. The other didn’t say anything for a minute or two, before nodding resolutely and getting to his feet. 

“I’ll be back in a little bit. Don’t move a muscle and try to take a nap if you can. You’re sick, you need a lot of rest. I’ll send Izuku through with a fever reducer and some soup for you. We all know your boyfriend is already making some for you.” He paused, stopping at the door. “Actually, can I brainwash you to sleep? Would you be okay with that?”

Considering how sleep had eluded him for… awhile, that was probably, definitely the best option. It was sweet of Hitoshi to care enough to offer, he smiled.

“Yeah, that sounds wonderful,” he said, and he felt a haze slip over his mind right as he finished speaking. Over the years, working and training together, it had become and oddly comforting feeling. Especially when he agreed to it beforehand. The hold was looser when there was consent, when he willingly gave control over, because the vice-like grip he often used was simply unnecessary. He stared at Hitoshi. 

“Take a nap,” he said, the command in his voice gentle, and Shouto’s brain complied without thought, finally allowing him the drift of sleep he had longed for all day. He fell into a blissful slumber. 

When he woke up, it was to a dark room. Had Izuku not come in? Or… Apparently he had slept through his visit, because beside his bed, well within reach but not close enough for him to knock around was a tray with a thermos, two pills, and a bottle of water on it. He also noted that he felt… oddly warm, but only in one part of his body, the side of his right thigh. He tilted his head, letting his eyes adjust a bit more to the dark, but he heard it before he saw it. 

The faint purr of a cat filled the air, and he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before. There was a calico cat pressed against his side, his cold side, which was unusual, but he supposed, feverish as he was, both sides probably felt like his warm side. He reached down, weakly petting along the cats head. The purring grew louder. He smiled. He had a precious, purring kitty at his side. He was sure he had Hitoshi to thank for that. He wondered how that solo cat heist went. Obviously well enough that the cat got snuck into the building, but still. He’d have to ask him in the morning. 

In the meantime, the feeling of sleepiness wrapped around him like his blankets, and he fell asleep once more to the comforting purring of the cat. 

Purring that had persisted until morning, when he was awoken by the little thing kneading at his thigh. He smiled. His fever didn’t feel quite as bad this morning, but he still took the fever reducers on the tray, and thanked whatever god was listening that it was Sunday, meaning he wasn’t going to miss another day of class. With the fever reducer taken, he was about to grab the thermos and the spoon, and get some sustenance into his stomach, especially considering that Katsuki always made incredibly tasty food, when he noticed a slip of paper out of the corner of his eye. Careful not to disturb the cat with his movements, he adjusted to grab the paper instead, unfolding it to read. 

“I hope you slept well. And you better eat, or I’ll force you to. You know that’s not an empty threat, take care of yourself.” Which was rich coming from the boy who lived off of caffeine and hardly slept, but he knew the other meant well, and knew the reason for that was the chronic nightmares and insomnia he got as a result of his quirk. Shouto could sympathize. Not for quirk, but for childhood. He kept reading. “The cat heist was a failure,” it said, which was curious, considering the cat at his side, “but I got Aizawa-sensei’s permission to bring in the cat to help you, y’know, with the whole being sick thing. He couldn’t say no when I showed him the calico’s cute little face. He insisted on naming her, though, or, rather, letting Eri name her, so meet Potato Fluff. She’s the official dorm mascot. Don’t tell Nezu.” Shouto laughed. His lips were sealed. “I’ll come visit you and her in the morning. No hoarding all the cat cuddles to yourself. Don’t die, Hitoshi”

He shook his head, though the movement made his head pound. Mistakes were made. He wondered when Hitoshi would stop by. He hoped the others did, too, eager to see them all again, considering it had been over a day now, and that was extremely weird. He seldom didn’t see his friends at least once, but after he had passed out the day before, he had passed out, apparently. He could thank Hitoshi for that. He would, when he came to visit. 

He would thank him for helping him sleep, and for bringing him the cat. He was an amazing friend. He hoped he knew that. Even if he did, it wouldn’t hurt to remind him. 

He scooped up the cat, bringing her closer to his chest. She didn’t protest, nuzzling in immediately, and he decided, at that moment, that he would die for Potato Fluff. And that if being sick meant cat cuddles, and his wonderful friends helping him out, and his boyfriend making him food, and this, all of this, then maybe it wasn’t so bad. Maybe a fever wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, and maybe being sick didn’t have to be so miserable. 

He watched the door with a smile. Sure, he was still sick, and his head hurt, and he felt weak, but he had a wonderful cat and he had wonderful friends, and a wonderful boyfriend, and wonderful food his boyfriend had made for him that he was eating while holding the aforementioned wonderful cat, and this wasn’t bad at all. When he inevitably got sick again, well, he hoped it ended just like this. He kissed Potato Fluff’s little head. This was fine. 

[raybyanothername]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: Voyager Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Q Junior (Star Trek), Seven of Nine, Icheb (Star Trek) Additional Tags: Episode: s01e05 Stardust City Rag, Episode Fix-it Summary:

Episode Fix for Stardust City Rag, I will not accept Icheb’s death and neither will Q!

Minor appearance from Tom Paris.

-.-.-

There was no way to explain the sudden stab in his chest. He’s not even corporeal in that instance. No physical, let alone humanoid, form. And yet…

Q appears on a moon somewhere in the Beta Quadrant with curly hair and a lanky build. He hadn’t been trying to look as he had when he’d visited his Aunty Kathy back in the Dark Days, but…well…when he thought of being human, that’s what happened.

It’s only once he’s ‘human’ that Q recognizes the feeling in his chest - he’s even got one now! - as an ache. A sharp, constant, throbbing ache. Q blinks a sudden onslaught of tears out of his eyes. He touches his cheek as the liquid slides down his flesh.

“What's…” Q shakes his head. The tears continue and his throat begins to itch. “Why is this happening?” Q looks around, half-expecting his father to pop up and explain some universal and utterly obvious Q trait.

The moon stays empty.

Another stab in his chest sends him to his knees and Q gags on a sob that racks through his body. He presses his palms to the ground, particles of dirt scratch at his skin as they haven’t in decades.

Being corporeal, being human. It was always far too much…feeling…for Q. This was no exception.

With a scream, it tumbles into his mind. Icheb. It’s Icheb. That’s the pain. Icheb, his only friend, the only person in the whole of reality that Q had ever felt…fear…for.

Icheb was dead.

The cold, hard fact dropped directly into Q’s head, as every other fact did when he wanted to know something, but it tumbled through his body to settle in his gut like a rock. A rough, pointy rock that wouldn’t move no matter how much he vomited.

Q hadn’t eaten in years. He’d been floating in a nebula for over a dozen years. He didn’t comprehend how his stomach could find food to churn and force up his throat. It did though.

Because Q was alone. No friends. Nothing to tether him to this reality. No…Icheb.

Because Icheb was dead and when mortals died they stayed that way. They stayed dead. Icheb…would stay dead.

“No.” Q wipes his mouth and glares at the puddle of sick below him. He sits up, he takes a breath. “No.” Q shakes his head and snaps his fingers.

Seven aims a phaser at him as Q appears on Vergessen. He holds his hands up, unarmed as he always is. Seven is crying, her lips are trembling with sobs as she holds Icheb up to cradle him in her arms.

“Hello, Seven,” Q attempts to smile, but his mind is too busy taking in the details of the butcher shop he stands in. The blood smeared plastic that hangs from the ceiling in some ironic attempt at hygiene. Borg parts hang like beef from racks. “I’m thinking of becoming a vegetarian, how bout you?”

Her brows furrow and Seven lowers her phaser, “Q?” She’s still shaking, but her arms loosen slightly at her realization. Q is busy staring at the facial implants sitting in a metal tray. He’d recognize the metal bits even without the brow and nose ridge that they usually decorate.

“I’d never let Ichy ditch me,” Q forces his lips up even as his human form screams in grief. Seven looks at him skeptically. Q snaps his fingers again.

Seven startles at her sudden appearance on a starship. She is quickly distracted from this teleportation when Icheb heaves a breath, coughing as he turns away from Seven. She grasps him firmly and holds his head between her palms as she kneels over her child.

The grey walls of the U.S.S. Coleman are lit only by constant green buzz of a regeneration station. Q stands beside it as he watches Seven’s mouth open in a strangled sob.

“Seven?” Icheb looks up at her, his implants have returned. Seven runs her fingers over the metal on his brow. He flinches at the proximity of her hand and Seven retreats. He blinks frantically. “What happened?” He coughs put his words and attempts to sit up.

“You were…being dismantled…” Seven stumbles over her words. She sits back on her legs, kneeling still beside Icheb as he runs his own hands over his face and his eyes.

Icheb shakes his head, “No… I. I remember that Seven. I meant…” Icheb gestures at his face and then at the walls of his quarters, “…how is this possible?”

“Anything’s possible if you’re not concerned about messing with the timeline.” Q pips up. He rocks backwards on his heels, hands stuffed in his pockets. He’s wearing a Starfleet uniform, the same one as Icheb actually, not that he’d done that on purpose. “Which, ya know, I could never quite get myself to care about.”

Seven chuckles, a watery smile spreads across her face, “Thank you, Q.” He shrugs. He can see the rage behind her current joy. Icheb is back now, but someone still killed him. That part of the timeline at least will remain intact.

“Anything for Itchy.” Q takes a flourishing bow.

Icheb raises a brow, the one without the implant, “You agreed not to call me that.”

“Around senior officers!” Q stabs a finger into the air and then gestures out towards the room, “No officers, no refrain.”

“That’s a technicality…” Icheb states as he moves to stand. Seven helps him to his feet, rising with him. Icheb grins at Q as he faces him, eye to eye, “…Q-Ball.”

The door of Icheb’s quarter wooshes open. Two security personnel enter with phaser rifles at the ready. Q grins ear to ear as the captain of the vessel walks through the door.

“Stand down. They’re friendly.” Tom Paris looks from Icheb, with his color still peaky, to Seven, with her eyes ringed red and the blood on her hands, and then finally at Q. “This looks to be a very…interesting…entry in my log.”

[name-me-regret]

Till I Touch The Sky - 1/9

Till I Touch The Sky Chapter One: A Bit Of Fairy Dust

Summary: Peter is having weird dreams, and on top of that, May has a new boyfriend that Peter just does not like, and then adding on his ever increasing health problems... Well, Peter’s life seems pretty shitty right now.

Then he meets Tony Stark and he gets offered an internship, and things start looking better. However, he soon realizes that his dreams are more real than he could have imagined.

Chapter Summary: Peter starts having some weird dreams after a fall...

Read on AO3.

FANFICTION MASTER POST

Author’s Note: I wasn’t planning on posting this until it was finished, (because it’s taken over my life and I can’t work on anything till I finish this) but wanted to post it for Tom Holland’s birthday. Also, it’s the start of Pride Month! I want to work on finally finishing Saving Grace and get started on the sequel of Martin Child.

Here’s some art of Harley and Peter meeting in my He Makes Him Happy fanfiction, so check that out. I’m thinking of six chapters for this, and I hope I can stick to that this time. Hope y’all like this story. Leave me a comment and let me know.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

 ”Free spirits, free spirits Can you hear me calling? Oh, it's all or nothing When you're free spirits, free spirits Can you hear it calling? 'Cause I don't wanna live no normal life, let go

 Is this Heaven or Armageddon? Are we gettin' high, we could've watched the ending We were trodding down our memories A cemetery full of bottles that are incomplete When you're loving more, caring less It's the highs and lows with no clears And we wanted it all then But we're never runnin' out, we'll be

 Free spirits, free spirits...“

~Free Spirit - Khalid

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

April 02, 2015   Peter and May Parker were a small family unit, just two of them. It had been them against the world ever since Ben had died. However, he knew that May struggled to make ends meet, Peter wasn't stupid. In fact, Peter Parker was quite the genius. Although, that could be debated since he didn't see this coming, not even a little bit.   May Parker started dating.   He supposed he couldn't blame her, because everyone needed a companion and she was perhaps lonely. Also, ever since Ben had died, the burden of the bills and mortgage on the house had fallen on her. She’d been unable to make the payments, which is why they was now living at this apartment, since they’d lost Ben’s parents house.

So, he could understand that she needed help, and the worst part was that Christopher seemed like a real upstanding guy. He had a doctorate and after working for a big corporation was starting up his own medical tech company. He also knew how to cook and was able to get Peter's breathing machine for a cheaper price they could afford.   Peter hated having asthma the most, especially since it was hard on him when the elevator broke in their building and he was forced to walk up the stairs. That's what he was doing now, climbing up the stairs as he huffed and puffed, and by the time he made it to their floor, he'd ran out of breath.   The teenager leaned against the wall by the door for a few moments, feeling his face heat up as the twin brother and sister from down the hall passed by and eyed him with disgust. Peter knew he was grossly out of shape when a few flights of steps had him winded, but when his lungs were weak, he couldn't really exercise.   Peter straightened when the two had passed him, having dropped his head as soon as Riley and Hailey (the twins) had spotted him, having felt his face heat up in embarrassment when they’d seen him struggling to breathe. He'd already recovered after a few moments, but had waited until they had entered the stairwell. Now, he shifted his backpack back onto his shoulders, taking out his house keys and entering his apartment. When he got there, he saw that the usual clutter around the house had been cleaned up, his few LEGO sculptures they’d been able to afford (cheap ones with less than a hundred pieces) had been moved to a small work table in the corner, out of the way.

He tried not to let it bug him, since it had been on the floor before and anyone could step on a loose piece of his latest project. It was not fun to step on a LEGO, and Peter should know from personal experience. So, he supposed it was a good thing that Christopher had moved his structures onto a small table and off the floor.

The teenager huffed as he kicked his tennis shoes off at the door, not in the best of moods due to the elevator being out, and then the twins (who were both so pretty) giving him those looks. He hated his asthma, so much and wished to just be rid of it, or his stupid weak lungs, and his stupid allergies. Peter Parker just wanted to leave his whole stupid, weak body behind.

Peter fumbled for his inhaler as he started to get worked up, taking an inhale and feeling as his airways opened up. He waited a moment before he straightened and tossed his bag against the work table, cursing when one of the structures was knocked on its side. The teen moved over to fix it, hoping none of the pieces had been knocked off. It was the car he’d built from the Bricks On A Roll bucket, which had many wheels and the ability to make different structures. He’d done the red car on the front, a motorcycle, and the ice cream cart as well. He wasn’t sure if his was missing pieces, but it didn’t have the big ice cream cone piece as shown on the pack. Well, judging by how shitty his luck was, it was likely that his was the only one without it.

As he moved away, he failed to realize one of the wheels was missing from the red car, and hissed as he stepped on it. He stumbled back, tripped on his backpack and fell, hitting his head on the work table.

‘Whoa!’ Peter exclaimed as he moved his hands over himself, trying to see if he’d broken something. His head felt fine, in fact, he felt great! The constant pressure he always felt on his airway wasn’t present, and wondered if the fall had somehow miraculously cured him. Maybe, it was possible.

He turned around and froze. Peter should’ve known that his shitty Parker Luck would kick in. Because miracles didn’t happen to Peter Parker.

There in front of him, was his body on the floor with blood on his forehead where it’d struck the work table. He was looking at his body from the outside, so... did this meant he was dead?

‘Aww, come on!’ Peter cried out.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Peter hummed as he tried to figure this out, because as far as he could tell, he wasn’t dead. It didn’t help that he was currently floating over his body like a damn ghost. However, he could tell that his body was still breathing, if the way his chest was moving up and down was any indication.

So, not dead.

If that was true, then what was happening right now?

His thought process was cut off as he heard the key in the lock, and glanced at it. His eyes widened as he saw his aunt come through the door and glanced back at his body, and knew this was going to be bad. Peter winced as she screamed and rushed to his side.

“Peter?! Oh baby, wake up!” May sobbed, hands going to his forehead and flinching away from the blood there. She fumbled for her cell phone, her hands shaking so badly that she was barely able to dial 911.

‘May, I’m right here. I’m alright,’ Peter tried to tell her, floating over to her, but when he tried to touch her, his hand passed though her. He gasped and flinched back as if burned, looking at his hand and then at his body as May caressed his face ever so gently. If he could cry, he would, but as he was now, he only felt panic and terror, and a sorrow so profound that he curled up from how intense it felt.

He didn’t understand what was happening to him. Peter just wanted to be wrapped in his aunt’s warm embrace. He wanted all this to be over. Then, without knowing how, he slept and then he felt like he was falling; falling so very fast.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Peter’s eyes snapped open and he gasped in a breath, hand going to his throat and he couldn’t breathe! He heard a scraping sound and then a hand on his and he flinched away.

“Peter, you’re fine! Look at me, baby. It’s May,” a familiar voice said. His eyes snapped toward her, and immediately slumped down in relief when he realized it was his Aunt May. She pulled his hand gently away from his throat, fingers soothing away the scratch marks he’d made on himself in his frantic struggle.

“Wha-?” Peter tried to speak, felt a catch in his throat and coughed harshly. The mask over his face fogged up, but he had enough experience with his asthma to know he needed it so didn’t remove it. Peter dreaded to think of how many hours she was missing of work, since his Medicaid would pay for his hospital bills. It was just that it didn’t always pay for all his medicines, and May ended up paying some of it out of pocket. “M’sorry,” he whimpered, hating to be such a burden to her.

May smiled wanly, brushing back a few curls from his face. “It’s alright, baby. We’ll make it somehow. Besides, Chris will help us, you’ll see.”

Peter tried not to let his mood sour at the mention of the man, and instead gave a nod, glad the mask covered most of his face. He might not like the man, but he helped the burden on May. Besides, she was happy with him, and that’s all that mattered.

As he settled back on the bed, feeling his eyes grow heavy, a memory of floating over his body came to him.

‘Huh, that was some dream’, Peter thought.

Although, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had felt so real.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

 April 04, 2015

Peter sighed as he came into the apartment, his whole body feeling lethargic and heavy. He wanted to just get in bed and sleep, but he had been sleeping for two days already and he was tired of it. The teenager had thought they could spend some time together; just his aunt and himself.

“Get the door, May,” Christopher called, and the woman pulled open the door as the man entered carrying Peter’s bag and several bags of groceries in the other. They’d stopped to buy them on the way home, where Peter had been forced to stay in the car since he was still on oxygen and it would have been a hassle to carry the small tank inside the supermarket. So, Peter had stayed in the car and tried not to feel too bitter about it.

Now, it seemed like they wouldn’t have some time alone either, seeing as Chris started to help May unpack the groceries. Peter pulled off the mask, sick and tired of having to cart around the small oxygen tank. Besides, he needed to make sure not to use it all up before the end of the month, which still had two weeks left. “I can... help,” Peter said, wanting to feel useful.

“I got it, bud,” Christopher said as he grabbed up the bags Peter tried to get to help with. “Why don’t you go take a shower and I’ll come set up your nighttime treatment.”

Peter grimaced at that, since he didn’t want to have his nighttime treatment when it was barely 7:30 pm. He was not going to bed that early, no matter what anyone said. “It’s early still,” he argued, coughing a moment later.

God, he hated having these weak lungs.

“That decides it,” Chris said, motioning toward the bathroom. Peter might have been acting childish or immature, but he hated that the man acted like he had any right to order him around, like he was his uncle or his dad. He wasn’t.

“Alright, how about we watch a movie?” May said, stepping between the sullen teenager and her boyfriend. “Peter, you go take a shower while I make the popcorn and Chris sets up the movie. It can be a cheesy horror movie, like Sharknado.”

Peter nodded with a grin, his bad mood quickly vanishing. “You know, Sharknado isn’t too bad, as long as you don’t take it too seriously,” he said, rushing off. He wanted to hurry in taking his shower so he could get back and maybe sit next to May on the loveseat, their usual spot when watching movies before.

He considered it a win when he was able to plop onto the loveseat when coming back from his shower. May pulled him closer for a cuddle instead of telling him to let Chris have his seat. The teenager settled to watch the bad movie, sharing a bowl of popcorn with his aunt.

The movie was bad but entertaining, and he snuggled against his aunt as they watched. This was nice.

He didn’t even realize he’d fallen asleep, until he was suddenly looking down at himself. It seemed May hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep either, until Chris pointed it out.

“Should I put him to bed?” the man asked May. Peter didn’t like the idea of being carried like a child by the man, and hoped May let him stay right there.

“Yes, that’s probably best,” she told him. Peter frowned as he watched the man lift him up like he weighed nothing, and since he couldn’t do sports to gain any muscle, he probably did weigh nothing.

Peter grumbled as he floated out of the man’s way, starting to get the hang of moving around. He wasn’t paying attention and realized too late that he was going to hit the wall, and his arms lifted to protect his head. Peter cried out instinctively, but he didn’t hit it... he went through the wall.

 ‘Holy shit!’

He flapped his arms around as he was suddenly in the hallway, and then passed through so he was in the apartment next door, where a young couple and their one year old daughter lived. They were gathered around the table, playing some board game as the little girl giggled. “Ally won!” the little girl cried. The man and woman cheered, lifting her up as she squealed happily.

“And now it’s time to get ready for bed,”  the woman declared.

Peter moved on when he was able to get the hang of moving through the air, glancing back a moment and thought he saw the little girl waving at him, but then he’d gone through the wall of the apartment next to them. He realized too late that it was the twin’s apartment, and he was suddenly in a bedroom.

There were posters of One Direction and other bands he wasn’t familiar with. He turned around as he heard a rustling and he squeaked when he saw that it was Hailey, the girl of the duo, and she was starting to change after having clearly taken a shower judging by the towel she started to pull off.

‘I’m so sorry!’ he cried even if she couldn’t seem to see or hear Peter, one hand lifting up to cover his eyes as he used that other to rush through the wall. He was in the hallway a moment before he passed through the opposite wall into the room there. That room turned out to be the bathroom, which was being used.

A head popped out of the shower, hair wet with water and Peter was dismayed to realize it was Riley, the male twin. And he was in the shower, naked and wet! “Hailey! You finished all the hot water, you asshole!”

“Deal with it!” Hailey’s muffled voice yelled back.

Riley grumbled about annoying sisters and his head disappeared back inside the shower. Peter figured it was a good idea to leave now, before he invaded Riley’s privacy like some pervert. Maybe it was time to go back to his own apartment. Besides, he felt a bit... sick? Which was strange, since he usually didn’t feel anything besides emotions. Then again, this was just a dream. Wasn’t it?

He found his body in the bed, mask for his nighttime treatment strapped to his face and he felt even sicker now. It was probably that he hated the feel of the medicine and that’s why he felt sick? Maybe next time he went exploring he’d leave the building, even if it felt scary. There was a fuzzy quality to everything, like everything was being seen through a filter, or perhaps a cloud. Also, everything not in his immediate area faded away into darkness. Almost like it ceased to exist.

For now, he floated over to his body as he closed his eyes. After feeling a sensation like falling and falling, everything went dark.    

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Peter moaned as he woke up, the taste of the medicine in his mouth, coating his throat and it was in his nose. He yanked the mask off his face, wincing since his face felt tender from where the straps had been digging into his skin. Peter felt shaky when he stood, feeling like gravity was weighing even heavier than usual on his body. He barely made it to the bathroom before he was heaving, throwing up the popcorn he’d had earlier. The teenager wasn’t even sure what time it was, but since his aunt didn’t come running to see what the matter was, she must have gone to work.

“Peter, is that you, bud?” he heard Christopher ask, realizing that May must have left him watching over him while she left for her shift. There was a light knock on the bathroom door. “Do you need help?”

He was feeling like crap and even if he knew it wasn’t the man’s fault, he didn’t want his help. “No, go away,” he croaked, his body heaving again but he’d already thrown up the little bit he’d eaten, so it was mostly stomach bile.

The door opened as he was washing out his mouth, and he would have scoffed at the man not listening to him if he’d had any strength left. His medicine had never caused him to get sick like this before, so he wasn’t in the best of moods.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Chris said, voice almost gentle. He didn’t know why he didn’t like the man, but he... just couldn’t like him. There was something about him that Peter couldn’t put his finger on that made him dislike him. Maybe he was being unfair or childish, but he couldn’t help it.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, shrugging off his hand as he shuffled back to bed. He climbed back into his twin bed, the mattress already old and a bit too small. Peter just refused to ask for another, since it wasn’t a necessity. He was fine with this for now, and didn’t want to burden May asking for another, bigger bed.

“Maybe I should give you another treatment,” Chris said, glancing at the nighttime machine.

Peter grimaced at the thought of feeling the medicine coating his throat, mouth and inside his nose again and his stomach protested it. “No,” he said as he shook his head, “I’m fine.” Peter knew he wouldn’t get away with not having the treatment again tomorrow night, but at least for tonight, he wanted to be free of it.

Chris hesitated, before he nodded. “Until tomorrow then,” he said, that smile on his face he hated so much. Peter didn’t understand why he hated it, hated Christopher. Maybe he should give him a chance? After all, he’s the reason they had gotten this newer machine practically for free.

“Yeah... thanks, Chris,” he muttered, pulling his blankets up to his chin.

The man paused as he’d been about to leave and after a moment he turned with a smile. “It’s no problem. I want to help you and your aunt.” He pulled the door closed. “Sweet dreams, Peter.”

Peter’s room was plunged into darkness and he curled up under the blanket. He closed his eyes and hoped he was able to fly away again in his dreams. It was nice being able to get away from his weak body and the problems that brought him and his aunt.

So, he flew away in his dreams, that felt more real than they should be.-

[1a-imagines]

Get Jinxed:

@otaku-explosion Request: Please can you make a scenario of Midoriya and Iida with a fem s/o's quirk is called jinxed which causes bad things to happen to anyone and everyone (including herself) to experience unfortunate...and strange...happenings. She still can't really control her quirk, but she was accepted into class 1B so let’s hope the UA's roof isn't ripped off by a storm like her last schools.

Type: scenarios

Characters: Iida, Midoriya.

Iida:

"H-how-"

"I don't know! I was just walking past and sneezed!" You tried to explain to him as he stared at the the water fountain that was currently on fire.

You had actually done the impossible. You had set fire to water. "This is physically impossible! This defys every law of nature." Iida muttered in utter disbelief. He wanted to put out the fire! He simply couldn't let the schools fountain burn to the ground but what should he do?! Should he throw more water over it? Would that even work!? It was seemingly not affect by water at all, so all he could do was watch in horror as the fire grew on the waters surface.

You seemed strangely calm, but he assumed you were use to it. It was your quirk after all. You were probably use to this happening. He already had heard from you what happened at your last school. You walked into school one morning and the roof blew up. You knew it was fault because as soon as you leaned back against the wall of the school it blew up on contact.

If Iida was honest he feared for UA. He couldn't allow you to blow up the roof! But at the same time he feared for you too! He didn't want you getting expelled because you were unable to control your quirk. Not to mention how most of the bad luck seemed to aim at you.

As he was panicking the fire went out by itself. You coughed nervously into your hand. "Usually the things that happen have a time limit, mostly they stop when I walk away. I suppose you could say the chaos likes to follow me where ever I go."

Iida sighed and placed his hands onto his hips. "You have to learn to control your quirk somehow. The last thing this school needs is more problems." You had to agree. With all that's happened with class 1A. You felt almost thankful you were in 1B. At least you weren't put through such scary situations like the USJ attack.

"I'm sorry Iida. I want to! I just don't know how to control it! Where would I even start!?" You sighed in defeat and plopped down onto the edge of the fountain. Iida sat next to you, sympathy filling his eyes. "Well, we can figure it out! It's not like it would be impossible. We just have to try our best!"

You smiled up at him, feeling thankful you had him. Your friendship had been unlikely, so being in a relationship with him was even more bizarre. Class 1A's, class president, who respected the rules more than anyone else with the girl who litrally had bad luck following her wherever she went. You remembered how you two met. It had been within the first week of school.

You were walking down the halls and as fate would have it a rolling baseball came out of nowhere, you stepped on it and fell face first into the floor. But it didn't stop there. You fell in front of the support classes door and it suddenly fell off it's hinges, and fell right towards you. You gasped and held out your hands to shield yourself, but when you felt no impact you opened your eyes to see Iida above you he had grabbed onto the door before it hit you. When he knew you were ok he asked what happened. He had seen it all and it was mouth dropping. A ball came out of no where? No one was around! And the door fell off it's hinges without anything happening to it? It was like someone had set out to sabotage you.

You had to explain your quirk to him and since then he always made sure he was around to help clear up the chaos and keep you out of danger. Though it was hard to keep up with, since most of the things that happened had no explaination and denied the laws of physics. Things he thought previous impossible he had now witnessed himself. You caused him a lot of panic, especially when you coughed and three windows of the school smashed in.

He wanted to help you. Your quirk was actually very impressive. If you got control over it you could be unstoppable! How can people beat you if they're cursed with bad luck?!

"We? You're going to help me?" You asked unsurely. You figured if you were going to willingly use your quirk he would want to be far away. After all, it didn't just affect you but people around you. You tried not to laugh when you remembered walking past Monoma and his pants fell down. You felt bad but it was hilarious. You apologised but he didn't accept it since you were giggling away. You two were good friends though, but he still hasn't let the incident go.

"Of course! You're my girlfriend! I will help you through this and support you no matter what! It's my duty as your boyfriend!" He stated proudly. You grinned up at him and you jumped up off the fountain. "Ok! Let's do this!"

You went to take a step forward but before you could you ended up being swooped up into Iidas arms with a yelp.

"(Y/n)!!" Iida yelled and pulled you to saftey. You turned back to see you both had narrowly missed being hit with a heavy metal ball. A girl ran over and bowed in apology.

"I'm so sorry! I was practising my quirk! I don't know what happened!? It just went out of control!"

You sighed and assured her it was ok before waving her off. Iida put you down. "I know exactly what happened." You muttered and the girl ran away. "This is getting worse everyday! But how do you control bad luck?" You groaned. Iida hummed and thought it over. He wasn't sure himself, it wasn't like you were trying to control something physical, your quirk seemed to be more mental. "Maybe we should focus on what activated your quirk. Maybe bad luck happens what you feel something? Like when you become overwhelmed with a feeling. Have you ever actually tried causing bad luck willingly."

"No... well, sometimes. But it's not like I can just point at someone at bad luck happens to them. I don't know how it works!" You huffed. Feeling hopeless. It was stressful to think about. What if you could never get control over your quirk. You grumbled and turned around. About to start walking away but you ended up tripping over your own feet and fell onto your face. "(Y/n)!" Iida crouched down next to you in worry.

You lifted your head from your ground and met his eyes, you were completely done with today. Your quirk was acting up more than usual and you were fed up. You told him you were fine but his eyes widened, he stood up quickly. "Your nose is bleeding! That's not fine!" He helped you up and reached into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief. He held it up to your nose as you stared down at the ground in embarrassment. "Maybe I'm just destined to be this way forever."

"That's not a good mind set to have! There will be a way to control it! We just have to work hard. We can do some research on similar quirks as well as some training. You'll see, you have control over it in no time!"

You smiled at his enthusiasm. He was so ready to help you and do whatever he had to, to make you happy. "Funny how the girl with bad luck ended up with such an amazing guy. Maybe you're solution to my quirk. Maybe you're my quirks weakness." You crossed your arms with a playful smirk gracing your pink lips.

He froze up, his cheeks going red. He felt like his breath got caught in his throat for a moment. "(Y/n)! It's innapropriate to flirt in public!" He whispered frantically, looking around to make sure no one heard.

"I can't help it, you make me so happy I just want to make you happy too. I can't keep all the love i feel to myself. I'll explode!" You were about to make this poor man faint. His whole face was burning up. "(Y-y/n)!" he sighed. Though he appreciated the love, he preferred to keep it for when the two of you were alone. You smiled down at the floor shyly. For some reason you couldn't help but acknowledge all the times he's saved you from your own quirk. How he was always there to stop your misfortune. Back at your old school things use to be much worse. You were always in the nurses office or getting yelled at for something but at UA, ever since you met Iida, things have been so much better. Bad things seemed to happen a lot less often and even when they did guess who was there to save the day? Of course it was your precious boyfriend. You were so thankful for him you couldn't even put it into words.

"At least I know I have one good luck charm in my life."

Midoriya:

"Have you seen (y/n)?"

"You're looking for her again? You really need to relax." Kirishima replied. Midoriya slumped over a little at the response. He couldn't help it. Your quirk always caused bad things to happen to you. He's lost count of the amount of times he's had to save you from danger, and the last thing he wanted was for you to get hurt. You were a constant worry for him. You had told him several times that he didn't have to worry so much but he couldn't stop. You had even suggested that maybe you shouldn't be friends, when you first met, you already knew he was a bit of a nervous wreck so being around you would only cause him to faint from worry. Yet he refused to walk away from you. So much so you ended up going from friends, to best friends and then from best friends to lovers. Despite the worry he always felt for you, he found your quirk so interesting and he never let it get in the way of you two. Even when you caused him a bit of bad luck too. Like when you went to hug him and tripped, you fell over onto him and he fell back against the pavement. Luckily there was no serious harm, just some bruises. Though he did ended cracking his phone screen. You felt so bad you paid him money to get it fixed, despite all his protests.

"I-i can't help it. I care about her." He replied, walking out of the classroom to go to check class 1b. He looked around to see you walking down the hallway with kendo. Smiling at some joke you made but when you closed your eyes and began laughing someone sprinted out from around the corner and ran right into you. They hit you with their full force and You flew against the window in the hallway, it even cracked slightly from the impact. Luckily it didn't break.

"(Y/n)!" You boyfriend screamed out as he ran over to you. Kendo was crouched by your body that was now on the floor. Shaking your shoulder and asking if you were ok but it was obvious by the lack of response you must've been knocked out. The boy who ran into you was now apologising over and over again until kendo got him to stop. It was more than likely just your quirk acting up again. The boy said he wasn't even sure why he was running so fast. He looked really confused and worried. Guilt was consuming him.

You were unconscious, so it's not like you could even accept his apology anyway. Your head was bleeding pretty badly too. Midoriya brushed the hair from your face to look at the wound. You had cracked your head open. He didnt waste anymore time and bent down to pick you up bridal style. "I'll take her to recovery girl. You should tell your teacher that she'll miss class." He told kendo who nodded in agreement and he ran off down the hall. Seeing the blood drip down your forehead made him panic. He couldn't stand to see you like this. He knew you'd be ok after seeing recovery girl but seeing you bleeding and unconscious in his arms broke his heart.

He had actually been looking for you today because he had been doing a lot of research and learning ways for you to be able to control your quirk. He was pretty sure one of the methods he found would be of help to you. When he got there he placed you on the bed and recovery girl took care of you. Kissing your head and wrapping it up in a bandage. The whole time he stayed by your side, looking at your beautiful face as it scrunched up in pain. It made his heart drop even more. You quirk really was amazing. He could already see all the ways it could be useful in so many different situations. It was strong; the only thing he didn't like about it was that it hurt you, but that could change with some quirk control training.

Even though you always got hurt, you were so dedicated to leaning to control it and training with it. Anytime it caused bad luck for someone else you always tried to stop it or save them before the bad luck could ensue. You had gotten better at telling when you quirk was acting up, so you usually saved them in time.

He admired that about you, even if some people figured it would be better suited for a villain to have a bad luck quirk you were still so passionate about becoming a hero, and you were even proud of your quirk. You knew one day you would be able to use it to save so many people and that's why you were do determined to learn how to control it.

You woke up a few hours later. Your head was pounding. You groaned in pain and looked around, it hurt to even move your eyes around the room. You tried to sit up but everything went dizzy and your vision started to black out, so you lay back down. "Careful dear. You'll need to say laying down for awhile longer. That was a nasty head injury." Recovery girl warned you. You couldn't even remember what happened. You just remember the sound of your boyfriend screaming for you before you were knocked out.

"Wheres-"

"I made him go back to class. Though he put up quite the fight, he shouldn't miss his lessons too. Even if I doubt he's able to concentrate."

You sighed and closed your eyes. You were in here so often Midoriya would sometimes miss some of his classes. Not often, only when something really serious had happened. Like when you fell down three flights of stairs, broke your arm and got a concusion.

"Stupid quirk.." You muttered angrily. Not only is it causing you to miss important lessons but it was worrying all the people you cared about. It was affecting them too, so much so they would miss lessons just to make sure you're ok. It was nice to know they cared but you were starting to think you caused too much trouble for everyone. You felt awful. You were standing in the way of them becoming hero's.

"Don't beat yourself up about it. It's not your fault. If you really want this to stop I suggest working harder to control your quirk. But dont give up." It was like she was reading your thoughts. You knew she was right. You wouldn't give up anyway, you were just feeling down right now. Most students here already thought your quirk was a villainous one anyway. They think you don't belong here. They never said it outright but you could tell by the way people would be more cautious around you or try to avoid you all together. The only ones that didn't act that way were your boyfriend, Kendo and Shinsou. Everyone else seemed to be wary of you. Not that you could blame them. Whenever people were around you bad luck would fall upon them. Even the school itself had even fallen mercy to your quirk more than once.

You lay there for awhile as recovery girl made sure you we're drinking plenty of water to help with the blood loss and dizziness you felt. It must ve been hours later when the door was opened and your boyfriend walked in. It must've been the end of the school day already. Yet again you had missed a full day of hero training.

Recovery girl had left awhile ago to let you rest but you couldn't. Your mind was too busy thinking about what to do. Give up? Or work harder? At this point you weren't sure if you could ever use your quirk for good. Laying here in this bed with nothing but your thoughts hadn't been good for you. All day your brain had been giving you a hard time. Telling you that you would never be a hero or that you'd never be able to control your quirk. That you should just give up because hero's are suppost to bring good luck with them, not bad luck.

You hadn't even noticed Midoriya was there, you were so consumed in your thoughts as you stared out the window at the setting sun. He walked over to the bed, noticing your tear stained cheeks as he got closer. His eyes widened and he let out a dainty gasp. You had been crying? He figured it might've just been from pain but your expression showed to him that you were conflicted about something.

"(Y/n)" he muttered softly to catch your attention. You slowly turned to him with pain filled eyes. It broke his heart to see you like this. You looked so sad, your eyes were missing that bright spark. You did smile when you saw him but it was slightly forced and half hearted. "Hey. Sorry for worrying you. I heard you carried me all the way here." You reached over to take his hand. "You're my hero."

"That so typical of you?"

"Huh?" You questioned in shock when he tightened his grip on your hand. "You're always trying to make other people smile, even when you're sad." He looked into your eyes. "What's wrong?"

You looked down at your other hand that was resting in your lap. He already guessed what you were thinking. He wanted you to admit it and confirm his suspicions. "I just... feel bad that I cause so much trouble. It doesn't just affect me, bad things happen to anything and everyone that's around me. I know people don't like me because of it. They like to keep their distance. How am I suppose to use a quirk that brings bad luck for good? I don't think I'll ever be a hero at this rate."

"Don't say that!" His outburst suprised you. You looked up at him, his eyes were glistening with a mixture of sadness and determination. "You're choosing to use it for good! It doesn't matter what your quirk is! You want to use it for good and that's what makes you a hero! It's not about your quirk, it's about the choices you make. Don't give up Because-" He squeezed your hand as he took in a deep breath. "If you give up then the world will miss out on a great hero."

You felt tears welling up in your eyes at his words, it brought a real smile to your lips for the first time all day. You couldn't ask to have anyone better in your life. You reached forward and opened your arms. Signalling you wanted a hug. He didn't waste a second and sat down, pulling you into his arms. One of his hands began to pat down your hair softly as you rubbed your face into his shoulder.

"I love you. You're everything to me." You whispered into his jacket. Holding him as tight as you could, which wasn't very right considering how weak you felt. "I love you too." He replied happily, feeling his heart soar at your words.

You pulled back and looked into his eyes,cupping his cheeks in your hands. "You know, I'm cursed with bad luck, and yet somehow I ended up being the luckiest girl in the world." You leaned forward and pressed your forehead to his. "Because I have you by my side."

A/N: Not my best work since I was struggling to think up a good scenario for it. I really liked writing it though, so hopefully it's not too bad T_T

[hunnybunnyerza]

Minor Mishaps (Parrlyn Oneshot)

on AO3 as well :)

Here’s a parrlyn oneshot of something that goes wrong before the show!

⚠️ trigger warning: yknow how sometimes u swallow water wrong and choke on it, well that 😂

It was just before a show, sometime in the middle of the week, and all the queens were waiting backstage before places. It was Cathy’s idea to buy a little couch for the corner of her dressing room, which her and Anne were currently snuggled on together.

A light chuckle escaped Cathy’s lips as Anne flung herself across the couch, her head now resting in Cathy’s lap as she squirmed a bit to find a comfortable position whilst keeping her in-ears and hair in place.

“You’ll have to get up soon y’know,” Cathy said, giggling a bit as she played with a stray bit of Anne’s hair. Anne barely mumbled an ‘mhm’ in response before reaching down, grabbing her water bottle from beside Cathy’s foot on the floor.

She fumbled with the cap for a bit before heaving an overly-exasperated sigh and handing it over to Cathy, who opened it with a mocking sense of ease and handed it back to her. Their eyes met, and the loving gaze they shared was the only thing that mattered at that moment. Their eyes glimmered under the gaze of one another, shining brighter than any spotlight could make them appear to be.

This moment barely lasted a second until Anne turned away, content on not letting her currently opened water bottle spill onto herself. She brought the bottle to her lips carefully, considering she was still laying down, and tilted the bottle up the slightest bit to drink.

In hindsight, no matter how comfortable she was in Cathy’s lap, she probably should’ve sat up. And Cathy probably should’ve told her as much. Then the queens could’ve avoided all of this.

Anne tilted the bottle up a little too much but she attempted to swallow all of it. Parr was still playing with a strand of her hair, oblivious to what was happening.

That’s until, in one short, sharp motion, Anne shot up to sit up straight, heaving cough after cough into the crook of her arm. Cathy was startled at first, but soon realized what was happening, and quickly went to help, rubbing circles on her back gently.

“Try to breathe,” Cathy whispered softly yet frantically, as if asking her to do it would make it any easier to do. “Please, just try, please.”

Anne’s free hand drifted over to squeeze Cathy’s thigh, her bright green painted nails nearly clawing through the material of her costume and into her skin. Anne’s eyelids had been tightly pressed shut the whole time, she opened them ever so slightly, revealing her bloodshot red eyes and further adding to the pained expression on her face.

The other queens had realized something was wrong fairly quickly, the sound of constant coughing ringing throughout the room wasn’t exactly something that would go unnoticed.

Anna was trying to comfort Katherine, who was completely panicked to the point where her hands were trembling. Aragon was standing in the corner pretending not to care, but the worried expression on her face gave her away. Jane had rushed over to them almost immediately, attempting to wipe the tears from under Anne’s eyes before her makeup would smudge.

The queens were all a mess, and they had all pretty much ignored the announcement that came through on their in-ears, saying that they needed to get to places. But Anne knew they all had to go, and that she was just slowing everyone down.

“I’m… sorry,” Anne muttered in a nearly inaudible tone, each word between a bout of coughs. She honestly did feel bad about this. With a show starting so soon, it couldn’t have happened at a worse time. And they all looked so worried, and poor Cathy looked so scared.

“You’ve nothing to apologize for, love,” Jane replied, her features softening as she caught another tear from Anne’s cheek.

“But, I–”

“Shh,” Cathy muttered, slightly nuzzling her head into Anne’s shoulder. “Don’t talk, just breathe.”

They stay like this for a bit, Cathy holding onto Anne’s arm comfortingly as she continued to cough, Jane moving to rub her back gently. Time passed cruelly slow, but it still did, and the show was getting more and more delayed.

“Maybe we should all start heading to places,” Aragon states simply, her eyes drifting upwards from where they had been fixed on her phone. “Anne could head down and meet us when she’s ready. We’re already going to be late but this way we could save a bit of time.”

“No!” Katherine shrieked, rushing out of Anna’s arms towards Anne, before kneeling on the ground in front of her and gripping her leg. “I’m not leaving!”

Anne had also let go of her grip on Cathy’s leg, just to squeeze her hand, looking at her with eyes that silently begged her to stay. She squeezed it back, gazing up at Anne with the lightest touch of a smile painting her features.

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” she muttered to Anne, before turning to Aragon. “So I have no problems with the show starting a few minutes late.”

Anne smirked lightly between coughs. Her and Aragon were almost always getting under each other’s skin, some times more playfully than other times, but she was glad that Cathy could do it for her the one time she couldn’t.

Anne hesitantly loosened her grip on Cathy’s hand, as Cathy coached her on how to breathe in a whisper like tone. She closed her eyes and focused on the gentle mutters of, in… and out…, from Cathy.

Soon enough, her major coughing fit subsided, leaving her out of breath and gasping for air. Cathy let out an audible sigh of relief, loosening her iron grip on Anne’s arm. It still took a while for her to catch her breath, but once it had returned enough that she still had time to speak between gasps of air, she insisted on going down to the stage.

Cathy stayed close to her side throughout it all. Clinging to her as they walked down the stairs to the stage, and staying by her side instead of going to places until the last second, when she reluctantly went to the other side of the stage after ensuring that Jane would make sure she was alright.

Her first shout of “beheaded!” was barely more than a quiet squeak, causing Cathy to glance at her helplessly, but throughout the song she managed to get her breath back. Her solo bit in the song wasn’t as energetic as it usually was, but by the start of Aragon’s song she was fully back to being her usual ball of energy.

The rest of the show went surprisingly well, Anne’s song was nearly perfect, and she was bouncing around in the megasix just as much as she usually was. She walked off the stage with a wide smile across her face, one that was contagious to Cathy as she walked off the stage and towards her.

They held hands as they walked up the stairs towards the dressing rooms, both of them out of breath by the time they reached the top, but smiles still plastered onto their faces. They both got out of their costumes quickly, and had to wait for the others to change before walking to Aragon’s car to drive home.

They sat next to each other in the middle row, leaving Cleves and Katherine in the back with Jane in the passenger seat up front. They never had specific places where they would sit, but Cathy and Anne would always end up next to each other.

So here they were, snuggled next to each with Anne at the window seat and Cathy in the middle, leaving an empty seat on the other side of her. Anne’s face was buried into the other queen’s shoulders, their fingers still gently intertwined.

“You slayed your song tonight,” Anne muttered tiredly through smiling lips, before giggling lightly and adding, “I think I’m gay for you.”

“Annie? Aren’t we already dating?” Cathy asked in response, her hand drifting to run fingers through Anne’s scalp. She giggled slightly as well when Anne’s only response was an absent-minded mutter of, ‘yeah… we’re girlfriends,’ followed by a goofy grin on her face.

They were both quiet for a while, so it nearly startled Cathy when, out of seemingly nowhere, Anne mumbled something that sounded a lot like, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s absolutely nothing you need to be sorry for,” she responded, her gentle voice resonating in Anne’s mind. She sighed before squeezing Cathy’s hand a bit tighter.

“You looked so scared earlier. And it was because of me,” she reasoned, lifting her head slightly to look Cathy in the eyes. “It was my fault, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, love, don’t apologize for that,” Cathy responds with such tenderness in her voice than Anne swears she falls in love with her all over again. “And don’t blame yourself for even a second. Shit happens, it’s not anyone’s fault, alright?”

“Mm…” Anne affirms, nuzzling her cheek up against Cathy’s shoulder. She gives into the heaviness of her eyelids and lets her eyes close shut, leaving the remnants of her glittery green eyeshadow in full view.

“Don’t fall asleep yet. We’ll be home soon,” Cathy says with amusement, resisting the temptation to wipe the glitter off of Anne’s cheek as she told herself they could just do it at home.

“...yeah, just, resting my eyes,” she mutters through barely parted lips. Cathy chuckles lightly, rubbing the back of Anne’s hand with her palm.

“If you say so.”

She stays awake longer than Cathy anticipated, but soon enough her grip on Cathy’s hand goes slack, her breathing deepening. She shifts her head slightly as a cute little moan escapes her lips, and Cathy smilies down at her.

She’ll have to wake up when they get home. Cathy remembers how much she hated it that time Cleves carried her into the house, nearly panicking when she woke up in someone’s arms and only being able to calm down once her feet were back on the floor.

But until then she can just live in this moment. She bends her head down to let her lips press against the side of Anne’s head, admiring the subconscious smile that painted Anne’s lips when she did so. She dropped her hand from Anne’s scalp and rested it onto her shoulder, before nuzzling her face into Anne’s hair.

A sigh escaped Cathy’s lips as she peered out the window, closing her eyes when she realized there was still a while left to drive. It wasn’t long before she too fell asleep, with her head rested on top of Anne’s, her hand sliding off of Anne’s shoulder and down her arm.

Jane turned around and smiled at the sight of the pair of them. In that moment they looked so peaceful together, so happy. Jane swore to herself she would make sure they, and every queen for that matter, would look that happy for the rest of their lives.