#the system is booting do not turn off the computer

[6blackfilin9]

i realised that either i publish this already or i’m just forever stuck with this thing

[yaespook]

Run 4 - In Progress.

✧ Room Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Android! Wanderer, no gendered terms used for reader, no actual penetration, unhealthy obsessive and possessive relationship from Wanderer, memory manipulation. Leave a note if anything was missed out. ✧ Retrieved Notes: If possible, use the InteractiveFics extension to change the phrase “My name” (without the quotation marks) to the name given to your Wanderer.

There’s an unfamiliar android sitting atop your worktable.

You must have picked him up two or three weeks ago, when he was still worse for wear. In your memory, he was in pretty bad shape when the two of you first met, his main panel wrenched open leaving his circuitry a mess and rough scrapes all over his superficial layer.

Now, with your constant repairs, he’s been more lively, tailing you around the house as you go about your day. While fussing about, dusting off a muzzle laying on a fur pelt, you sense a presence lingering outside your room.

"You know, I don't recall androids being quite so clingy." In return, you get a light huff from behind the door frame. 

"And you’ve come across other androids? I didn’t know you run a junkyard here,” the eye roll in his tone is audible.

His feet pad into the room and his gaze hones in on the clerical collar placed on a nearby shelf, glaring at it. Clicking his tongue, he crosses his hands on his chest.

“Whatever, what you do is mostly up to you anyway. Do you think you’re almost done cleaning? I think there’s an internal problem again, I’ll wait for you at the worktable,” the android saunters off nonchalantly, throwing you a light wave over his shoulder.

Sighing, you quickly finish up your task at hand before complying to his request, briskly making your way over to the worktable where he's already perched smugly on, his gaze expectant. 

You easily go through the rehearsed motions of plugging him up to your computer, your muscle memory kicking in as you boot up the required softwares before gingerly prying the main panel located on the front of his torso to gain access to his internal workings. Over time, you've gradually figured out the parts that make up the android sitting before you, growing used to the sight of the lengths of wiring and cables running throughout his body, the faint low mechanical whirring of motors and cooling systems. 

Most importantly, you now understand how sensitive his central core is. Nestled securely in a latched transparent casing, his core is what powers and sustains him. It emits a constant turquoise light and is also reflected in the glowing markings that lay beneath his synthetic skin that occasionally activate. (Although, you haven't quite gotten an answer for what makes them light up yet.) 

“So what's your problem today?” You ask, tearing your eyes away from him as you go over to your computer to check if any bugs have been identified.

“I think that cable all the way at the back came undone and got tangled with the rest.” 

You shoot him a pointed look, “Again? Didn’t we just fix that same cable last week?” Shifting your chair so you’re seated before him, poised to conduct your repairs, you make a passing remark, “Maybe taking you to another mechanic might be the better choice, get everything checked out, you know?”

How long have you kept at your task of finally fixing him up to tiptop condition? It’s almost daily when he reports back to you with a new disconnected wire or another loose joint somewhere on him. Diligently, you’ve been trying to repair him but the android is like a never-ending to-do list. And it’s only natural to be concerned if the constant damage stems from a more serious underlying issue that you haven’t managed to discover. The only next logical step would be to get another pair of eyes to help discern the root cause in case anything takes a turn for the worse.

But the reaction you get from him is one unexpected. His head snaps to face you, a scowl evident on his face. 

“So you’re handing me off like an unfinished project to someone else now?”

You know how snippy he can get however, this is on a different level from his previous behaviour. Maybe something left over from the days before you found him. It’ll be a good idea to look into his past logs to diagnose any present problems, you make a mental note of it.

“I’m just worried for you, that’s all. What if there’s an urgent issue I can’t fix alone? And we both know I can’t leave you as is.”

His expression mellows to an annoyed pout, looking away as his core glows faintly along with the patterns under his skin, he mumbles, “I’ll be fine.” (“I just need you.”) (“I'm the only one for you.”) (“No one else deserves you.”)

He allows you to work without another complaint, silently watching as your hands venture into his chest, a focused air to you while you look for the problematic cable. He senses your touch when you make contact with it, sucking in a sharp breath as you grip it between your fingers, twisting it around to free it from the surrounding wires before you finally connect and plug it into its rightful place. 

“That’s it for your cable issue. Anything else?” He quickly shakes his head.

Giving it a few light cursory pulls to make sure it’s finally secured, (if you weren’t mistaken, his core brightened in time with your tugs), you spare the rest of his parts one last look over. Then, shutting the panel, you unplug him from the computer.

Immediately, he scampers off the worktable with a clipped “thank you” and runs into his room. You hear the door to his room close before its lock clicks. 

The next few days prove to be better, the repair requests for any troubles that seem to have cropped up overnight growing more and more infrequent. Perhaps, bit by bit, the end of the repairs start to come into sight. 

Although, you have noted that his internal temperatures have been hiking recently whenever you have his chest panel open to patch him up. 

This time, you have him lying on the worktable on his back to access the further areas in him. He’s positioned facing upwards but his eyes are darting everywhere, unable to meet your gaze. Once again, the programme open on your computer screen shows how his temperatures are quickly rising even though there are no obvious reasons for such a sudden change. It records the recurrence into its troubleshooting log like before, more times than you can remember.

He’s panting lightly, the android’s chest moving up and down as your ears pick up the sound of his inner fans whir louder, his pre-programmed functions activating to try to cool him down. With no clue as to what could cause this issue, you reach in to look for a fault. Yet, the more you poke and prod around, the higher the warmth within him rises. 

Left with more questions than answers, you turn to his core for a closer look. When your fingers brush against the transparent casing, a moan slips out from him, and instantly his head whips to look at you dumbfounded.

An artificial blush takes over his face, a low pink glow blooming from beneath the synthetic layer. A beat passes before he cracks his lips apart, voicebox working as he pleads.

“...Again.”

Gently, you let your fingertips dance over the clasp hinging the casing shut and his response is instant. A shudder rolls through him, as real as it can be, and a shaky exhale leaves him. The android’s back arches up slightly, hastily chasing after your touch when you remove your hand.

Your caress returns when your hand dips deeper into his circuitry, where you hook two fingers underneath his thicker cables, attentively stroking them between your thumb and fingers, before tugging on them forcefully enough to elicit a reaction from him. 

His eyes fly open at your ministrations, a greed for more overtaking his processors. You’ve always been so gentle with him when he’s opened up for you, when you have access to the deepest parts of him, when he’s at his most vulnerable. So, to have you toy around with him, show him the indulgence of human flesh, can you really fault him for falling for you?

The tips of your fingers ghost along the length of his metal spine, and the android keens from under you.

“Please, more, I can take it!”

Taking his cue, your hand encircles his spine, grinding the heel of your palm against the ridges of the sensitive metal elements as you pump up and down. 

“Sss- so good! Hah…!” He can’t control how he behaves when you treat him so well, like he’s the only one worthy of your attention. He shakes under your touch, trembling as the addictive pleasure overrides his programmed commands.

“No more blubbering, just focus on me.” Your other hand goes to cup his chin, and obediently, he parts his lips for you, allowing you to slip your thumb into his mouth. You can feel his tongue work and when you press down, he jolts suddenly. A gag reflex? In an android? How amusing.

When you stop stroking him, he whines pitifully, muffled moans and begging for you to continue but his complaints stop when he feels you unlatch the lid of his core casing.

“Would you let me?” And the flurry of nods from him confirms his enthusiasm.

With bated breath, he counts the seconds before you make contact with his core. And when he senses your caress on his glowing core in his exposed chest cavity, he breathes out a gasp, as if he requires the intake of air. None of this is written into the basis of his behaviour, not fed into the dataset that makes up how he’s supposed to act, so everything he feels for you must be real.

His eyes go unfocused as his neural network is flooded with the raw pleasure of being enveloped with love and lust down to his literal core. Desire burns within him, evident from the fans whirring even louder than before to bring down his temperatures. It’s just so much for the android’s computations to handle. Broken moans leave him as he tries to vocalise his love for you (as best as he can with his thumb in your mouth). 

And when you press a kiss to his unprotected core, his vision whites out.

Eyes wrenched shut, his whole mechanical body jerks upwards, back arching off the worktable as his body propels himself to sit up, his limbs trying to ensnare you in his embrace, to keep you with him as long as he can. Every command in his system is overwritten to hone in on all the sensations of you on him, your touch, your warmth.

The patterns under his skin glow with a pulse, akin to a human’s heartbeat and when his eyes open again, glimmering faux tears roll down his face. His chest heaves as you close the distance between the two of you, cupping his face with both your hands and kissing his tears away.

The android breaks the intimate silence as he quietly asks you, “Can you give me a name?”

When you whisper a name into his ear, he breaks into sobs in your hands.

The days pass by, uneventful, and the time for a final cursory check before deeming him fully repaired comes. He’s poised on the worktable like any other previous session, a bored expression on his face as you flit back and forth between him and the software on your computer.

“You really are a clingy case,” you say and get a huff in return, “But a welcome one.”

Remembering your mental note from before about accessing his past logs, you access it from your computer, pulling up the window with his stored recorded data. The log operates in the background constantly, one of the built-in functions of the android and a quick glance over just to make sure everything is in order should do.

However, the logs prove to be worrying in a completely different way.

[Log: Day 10 - Run 1 - Failed. Werewolf. They’re with that mangy mutt. I don’t know what they see in him. I still remember the care they showed me. There’s always the next run.]

[Log: Day 20 - Run 2 - Failed. It seems I’m too late this time around. That vile selkie captured them first. How irritating. I need to stop hesitating. It’s my love on the line after all.]

[Log: Day 30 - Run 3 - Failed. Incubus. That damn priest and incubus. I can feel my temper reaching its breaking point.]

[Log: Day ??? - Run 4 - In progress. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.]

Your eyes rake across a multitude of grainy snapshots of yourself, all with different people that you can’t find the ability to recall, your mind pounding from the discovery. 

He’s gazing expectantly when you look back up at him from the screen. A grin twists its way across his face, canines glinting under the dizzying harsh lighting.

“So now you’ve seen how much I love you, even if you don’t remember it.” There’s a sick obsession dripping in his tone, an uncanny level of emotion that androids normally shouldn’t be able to replicate, one that sends a heavy uneasiness through your whole being, one that roots you to the ground. 

When he doesn’t get the adoring reaction from you he expects, the proud expression on his face falls instantly. 

He’s despondent, despairing as he tears the connecting cables off of him, launching himself off the worktable, lunging across for you, frenzied, pure scorching mania surging through him. 

“You… even after all these runs. You’ve always given me the same thing. My name. I thought this time- You-” 

Voice shaky, “It’s a shame this run didn’t work out either.” 

He steels himself, hand outstretched, “No matter.”

You blink.

There’s an unfamiliar android sitting atop your worktable.

Thank you kindly for reading. Consider supporting on kofi if you enjoyed this or visit the other doors.

[river-taxbird]

Have YOU got an old Windows PC Microsoft has told you can't run Windows 11? It's time to give it a new life!

How to install Windows 11 on unsupported PC Hardware using Rufus. You can also disable some other Windows 11 bullshit like data harvesting and needing a Microsoft account.

It has been in the news a lot lately that Windows 11 isn't allowed to be installed on PCs without certain requirements, including the TPM 2.0, a chip that was only included in PCs made in 2018 or later. This means that once Windows 10 stops receiving security updates, those PCs will not be able to (officially) run a safe, updated version of Windows anymore. This has led to an estimated 240 million PCs bound for the landfill. Thanks Microsoft! I get you don't want to be seen as the insecure one, but creating this much waste can't be the solution.

(I know nerds, Linux is a thing. I love you but we are not having that conversation. If you want to use Linux on an old PC you are already doing it and you don't need to tell me about it. People need Windows for all sorts of reasons that Linux won't cut.)

So lately I have been helping some under privileged teens get set up with PCs. Their school was giving away their old lab computers, and these kids would usually have no chance to afford even a basic computer. They had their hard drives pulled so I have been setting them up with SSDs, but the question was, what to do about the operating system? So I looked into it and I found out there IS actually a way to bypass Microsoft's system requirement and put Windows 11 on PCs as old as 2010.

You will need: Rufus: An open source ISO burning tool.

A Windows 11 ISO: Available from Microsoft.

A USB Flash Drive, at least 16GB.

A working PC to make the ISO, and a PC from 2018 or older you want to install Windows 11 on.

Here is the guide I used, but I will put it in my own words as well.

Download your Windows 11 ISO, and plug in your USB drive. It will be erased, so don't have anything valuable on it. Run Rufus, select your USB drive in the Device window, and select your Windows 11 ISO with the Select button. (There is supposed to be a feature in Rufus to download your ISO but I couldn't get it to work.?

Choose standard windows installation, and follow the screenshot for your settings. Once you are done that, press Start, and then the magic happens. Another window pops up allowing you to remove the system requirements, the need for a microsoft account, and turn off data collecting. Just click the options you want, and press ok to write your iso to a drive.

From there you just need to use the USB drive to install windows. I won't go into details here, but here are some resources if you don't know how to do it.

Boot your PC from a USB Drive

Install Windows 11 from USB Drive

If you had a licensed copy of Windows 10, Windows 11 will already be licensed. If you don't, then perhaps you can use some kind of... Activation Scripts for Microsoft software, that will allow you to activate them. Of course I cannot link such tools here. So there you go, now you can save a PC made from before 2018 from the landfill, and maybe give it to a deserving teen in the process. The more we can extend the lives of technology and keep it out of the trash, the better.

Additional note: This removes the requirement for having 4GB Minimum of RAM, but I think that requirement should honestly be higher. Windows 11 will be unusable slow on any system with below 8GB of RAM. 8GB is the minimum I think you should have before trying this but it still really not enough for modern use outside of light web and office work. I wouldn't recommend trying this on anything with 4GB or less. I am honestly shocked they are still selling brand new Windows 11 PCs with 4GB of ram. If you're not sure how much RAM you have, you can find out in the performance tab of Task Manager in Windows, if you click the More Details icon on the bottom right. If you don't have enough, RAM for old systems is super cheap and widely available so it would definitely be worth upgrading if you have a ram starved machine you'd like to give a new life.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Demon-haunted computers are back, baby

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

As a science fiction writer, I am professionally irritated by a lot of sf movies. Not only do those writers get paid a lot more than I do, they insist on including things like "self-destruct" buttons on the bridges of their starships.

Look, I get it. When the evil empire is closing in on your flagship with its secret transdimensional technology, it's important that you keep those secrets out of the emperor's hand. An irrevocable self-destruct switch there on the bridge gets the job done! (It has to be irrevocable, otherwise the baddies'll just swarm the bridge and toggle it off).

But c'mon. If there's a facility built into your spaceship that causes it to explode no matter what the people on the bridge do, that is also a pretty big security risk! What if the bad guy figures out how to hijack the measure that – by design – the people who depend on the spaceship as a matter of life and death can't detect or override?

I mean, sure, you can try to simplify that self-destruct system to make it easier to audit and assure yourself that it doesn't have any bugs in it, but remember Schneier's Law: anyone can design a security system that works so well that they themselves can't think of a flaw in it. That doesn't mean you've made a security system that works – only that you've made a security system that works on people stupider than you.

I know it's weird to be worried about realism in movies that pretend we will ever find a practical means to visit other star systems and shuttle back and forth between them (which we are very, very unlikely to do):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

But this kind of foolishness galls me. It galls me even more when it happens in the real world of technology design, which is why I've spent the past quarter-century being very cross about Digital Rights Management in general, and trusted computing in particular.

It all starts in 2002, when a team from Microsoft visited our offices at EFF to tell us about this new thing they'd dreamed up called "trusted computing":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/05/trusting-trust/#thompsons-devil

The big idea was to stick a second computer inside your computer, a very secure little co-processor, that you couldn't access directly, let alone reprogram or interfere with. As far as this "trusted platform module" was concerned, you were the enemy. The "trust" in trusted computing was about other people being able to trust your computer, even if they didn't trust you.

So that little TPM would do all kinds of cute tricks. It could observe and produce a cryptographically signed manifest of the entire boot-chain of your computer, which was meant to be an unforgeable certificate attesting to which kind of computer you were running and what software you were running on it. That meant that programs on other computers could decide whether to talk to your computer based on whether they agreed with your choices about which code to run.

This process, called "remote attestation," is generally billed as a way to identify and block computers that have been compromised by malware, or to identify gamers who are running cheats and refuse to play with them. But inevitably it turns into a way to refuse service to computers that have privacy blockers turned on, or are running stream-ripping software, or whose owners are blocking ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

After all, a system that treats the device's owner as an adversary is a natural ally for the owner's other, human adversaries. The rubric for treating the owner as an adversary focuses on the way that users can be fooled by bad people with bad programs. If your computer gets taken over by malicious software, that malware might intercept queries from your antivirus program and send it false data that lulls it into thinking your computer is fine, even as your private data is being plundered and your system is being used to launch malware attacks on others.

These separate, non-user-accessible, non-updateable secure systems serve a nubs of certainty, a remote fortress that observes and faithfully reports on the interior workings of your computer. This separate system can't be user-modifiable or field-updateable, because then malicious software could impersonate the user and disable the security chip.

It's true that compromised computers are a real and terrifying problem. Your computer is privy to your most intimate secrets and an attacker who can turn it against you can harm you in untold ways. But the widespread redesign of out computers to treat us as their enemies gives rise to a range of completely predictable and – I would argue – even worse harms. Building computers that treat their owners as untrusted parties is a system that works well, but fails badly.

First of all, there are the ways that trusted computing is designed to hurt you. The most reliable way to enshittify something is to supply it over a computer that runs programs you can't alter, and that rats you out to third parties if you run counter-programs that disenshittify the service you're using. That's how we get inkjet printers that refuse to use perfectly good third-party ink and cars that refuse to accept perfectly good engine repairs if they are performed by third-party mechanics:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

It's how we get cursed devices and appliances, from the juicer that won't squeeze third-party juice to the insulin pump that won't connect to a third-party continuous glucose monitor:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

But trusted computing doesn't just create an opaque veil between your computer and the programs you use to inspect and control it. Trusted computing creates a no-go zone where programs can change their behavior based on whether they think they're being observed.

The most prominent example of this is Dieselgate, where auto manufacturers murdered hundreds of people by gimmicking their cars to emit illegal amount of NOX. Key to Dieselgate was a program that sought to determine whether it was being observed by regulators (it checked for the telltale signs of the standard test-suite) and changed its behavior to color within the lines.

Software that is seeking to harm the owner of the device that's running it must be able to detect when it is being run inside a simulation, a test-suite, a virtual machine, or any other hallucinatory virtual world. Just as Descartes couldn't know whether anything was real until he assured himself that he could trust his senses, malware is always questing to discover whether it is running in the real universe, or in a simulation created by a wicked god:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/28/descartes-was-an-optimist/#uh-oh

That's why mobile malware uses clever gambits like periodically checking for readings from your device's accelerometer, on the theory that a virtual mobile phone running on a security researcher's test bench won't have the fidelity to generate plausible jiggles to match the real data that comes from a phone in your pocket:

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2019/01/google-play-malware-used-phones-motion-sensors-to-conceal-itself/

Sometimes this backfires in absolutely delightful ways. When the Wannacry ransomware was holding the world hostage, the security researcher Marcus Hutchins noticed that its code made reference to a very weird website: iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com. Hutchins stood up a website at that address and every Wannacry-infection in the world went instantly dormant:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/10/flintstone-delano-roosevelt/#the-matrix

It turns out that Wannacry's authors were using that ferkakte URL the same way that mobile malware authors were using accelerometer readings – to fulfill Descartes' imperative to distinguish the Matrix from reality. The malware authors knew that security researchers often ran malicious code inside sandboxes that answered every network query with fake data in hopes of eliciting responses that could be analyzed for weaknesses. So the Wannacry worm would periodically poll this nonexistent website and, if it got an answer, it would assume that it was being monitored by a security researcher and it would retreat to an encrypted blob, ceasing to operate lest it give intelligence to the enemy. When Hutchins put a webserver up at iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com, every Wannacry instance in the world was instantly convinced that it was running on an enemy's simulator and withdrew into sulky hibernation.

The arms race to distinguish simulation from reality is critical and the stakes only get higher by the day. Malware abounds, even as our devices grow more intimately woven through our lives. We put our bodies into computers – cars, buildings – and computers inside our bodies. We absolutely want our computers to be able to faithfully convey what's going on inside them.

But we keep running as hard as we can in the opposite direction, leaning harder into secure computing models built on subsystems in our computers that treat us as the threat. Take UEFI, the ubiquitous security system that observes your computer's boot process, halting it if it sees something it doesn't approve of. On the one hand, this has made installing GNU/Linux and other alternative OSes vastly harder across a wide variety of devices. This means that when a vendor end-of-lifes a gadget, no one can make an alternative OS for it, so off the landfill it goes.

It doesn't help that UEFI – and other trusted computing modules – are covered by Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), which makes it a felony to publish information that can bypass or weaken the system. The threat of a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine means that UEFI and other trusted computing systems are understudied, leaving them festering with longstanding bugs:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#que-viva

Here's where it gets really bad. If an attacker can get inside UEFI, they can run malicious software that – by design – no program running on our computers can detect or block. That badware is running in "Ring -1" – a zone of privilege that overrides the operating system itself.

Here's the bad news: UEFI malware has already been detected in the wild:

https://securelist.com/cosmicstrand-uefi-firmware-rootkit/106973/

And here's the worst news: researchers have just identified another exploitable UEFI bug, dubbed Pixiefail:

https://blog.quarkslab.com/pixiefail-nine-vulnerabilities-in-tianocores-edk-ii-ipv6-network-stack.html

Writing in Ars Technica, Dan Goodin breaks down Pixiefail, describing how anyone on the same LAN as a vulnerable computer can infect its firmware:

https://arstechnica.com/security/2024/01/new-uefi-vulnerabilities-send-firmware-devs-across-an-entire-ecosystem-scrambling/

That vulnerability extends to computers in a data-center where the attacker has a cloud computing instance. PXE – the system that Pixiefail attacks – isn't widely used in home or office environments, but it's very common in data-centers.

Again, once a computer is exploited with Pixiefail, software running on that computer can't detect or delete the Pixiefail code. When the compromised computer is queried by the operating system, Pixiefail undetectably lies to the OS. "Hey, OS, does this drive have a file called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope." "Hey, OS, are you running a process called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope."

This is a self-destruct switch that's been compromised by the enemy, and which no one on the bridge can de-activate – by design. It's not the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last.

There are models for helping your computer bust out of the Matrix. Back in 2016, Edward Snowden and bunnie Huang prototyped and published source code and schematics for an "introspection engine":

https://assets.pubpub.org/aacpjrja/AgainstTheLaw-CounteringLawfulAbusesofDigitalSurveillance.pdf

This is a single-board computer that lives in an ultraslim shim that you slide between your iPhone's mainboard and its case, leaving a ribbon cable poking out of the SIM slot. This connects to a case that has its own OLED display. The board has leads that physically contact each of the network interfaces on the phone, conveying any data they transit to the screen so that you can observe the data your phone is sending without having to trust your phone.

(I liked this gadget so much that I included it as a major plot point in my 2020 novel Attack Surface, the third book in the Little Brother series):

https://craphound.com/attacksurface/

We don't have to cede control over our devices in order to secure them. Indeed, we can't ever secure them unless we can control them. Self-destruct switches don't belong on the bridge of your spaceship, and trusted computing modules don't belong in your devices.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/17/descartes-delenda-est/#self-destruct-sequence-initiated

Image: Mike (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/stillwellmike/15676883261/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

[poipoipoi-2016]

Apropos of nothing

If you are the techiest person in the house (and for many of you, this is not techy at all), today is a good day to build a pihole thanks to Google's new TLDs.

For the record, this straight up stopped Dad from getting computer viruses when coupled with the Ublock browser extension, so I will volunteer my time to get you set up. We will find an evening and do a Zoom call. I am serious.

Prerequisities:

Before you start, this will be way way easier if your router has a magic way to:

Set static IP addresses

Set a custom DNS server

If you can't do this, I'm not saying you're stuck, but there's some non-obvious failure modes and maybe it's time to buy a better router.

Parts:

Raspberry Pi 4B. 2GB if you just want to set and forget, 8GB if you want to do more things on this than just your pihole (Coughs in a MarioKart box) -> https://www.raspberrypi.com/products/raspberry-pi-4-model-b/

Spare USB-C charger if you don't have one already. I'm a fan of https://www.amazon.com/Argon-USB-C-Power-Supply-Switch/dp/B0919CQKQ8/ myself

A microSD card at least UHS class 3 or better. 32 is fine for just a pihole, I have a 512 in some of mine that I use for more stuff. https://www.tomshardware.com/best-picks/raspberry-pi-microsd-cards

Some method of flashing the card if you don't have one (Some come with SD to micro-SD adapters, if not a USB to SD/micro-SD adapter is about $10 off Amazon)

If you really feel like going nuts, go buy yourself an Argon case and then very very carefully never ever install the software for the fan that does nothing. The value is entirely in having a big giant brick that is self-cooling. If you want to play MarioKart, I would consider this a requirement. https://www.amazon.com/Argon-Raspberry-Aluminum-Heatsink-Supports/dp/B07WP8WC3V

Setup:

Do yourself a favor and ignore all the signs telling you to go get Raspbian and instead go grab an ISO of Ubuntu 64-bit using RPi Imager. Because Raspbian cannot be upgraded across version WHY U DO THIS

Download Rpi Imager, plug the microSD card into your computer,

Other General Purpose OS -> Ubuntu -> Ubuntu 22.04 LTS

So now you have an operating system on an SD card.

Assemble the case if you bought one, plug in the SD card, power supply, ethernet cable if you have one or mouse and (mini) HDMI cable if you don't. If you bought that Argon case, you can just plug a keyboard (server OS means no mouse gang; In this house, we use the Command Line) and HDMI cable into the Pi. Turn it on.

Gaining access

The end state of this is that your pi is:

Connected to the internet by cable or wifi

You can SSH to it (Also not scary)

If you plugged in an ethernet cable, once it's done booting (1-2 minutes?), you should be able to ssh to "ubuntu@<the IP of the system>". Look it up in your router. It may make sense to give the static IP NOW to keep it stable.

If you've never used SSH before, I think the standard is Putty on Window or you can just open a terminal in Mac. (And if you know enough Linux to have a Linux computer, why are you reading this?)

If you didn't plug it in, and need to setup the wifi, there's magic incantations to attach it to the wifi and to be quite blunt, I forget what they are.

Your username is ubuntu, your password is ubuntu and then it will ask you to make a new password. If you know the meaning of the phrase "keypair-based access", it may make sense to run `ssh-copy-id` at this point in time.

Router settings (part 1)

Give your new Pi a static IP address, and reboot your pi (as simple as typing in `sudo reboot`).

Open a new SSH session to the pihole on the new address.

Installing pihole

Open up an SSH session and

curl -sSL https://install.pi-hole.net | bash

This is interactive. Answer the questions

When it's done, on your other computer, navigate to <the ip>/admin

Login with the password you just set. Router settings part 2

Give your new Pi a static IP address then point your router at that address

Set the DNS servers to the static IP

Then ensure you're blocking something. Anything.

Then do what you want to do. You'll probably need to whitelist some sites, blacklist some more, but the main thing is going to be "Adding more list of bad sites". Reddit has some lists.

And... enjoy.

/But seriously, there's some stuff to do for maintenance and things. I wasn't joking about the pair setup.

[pedrito-friskito]

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

during - part eleven

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

you get the short end of the stick, but it’s worth it.

a/n: okayyyyyyyyy shit’s getting heavy, folks, but things are chaaaaaaanging. hope you’re ready 😈

word count: 4.4k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, a lot of angst, a lot conversation, canon-typical violence and injuries (heavy on both), drinking, Joel has more feelings, I love Tess.

if you haven’t already, please read the announcement/follow up I posted about giving Liv a name.

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new works/chapters✨

Tess likes to talk. You don’t mind; it makes the walk back much faster, and the QZ is within sight much sooner with the easy conversation between you. 

She talks about how she found Joel and Tommy, how they’d been stuck together ever since Kentucky. She mentions her husband, Nate, and you offer your sympathy — which she brushes off — and tell her about Dean.

“With a baseball bat?” she repeats, an almost incredulous look on her face. “That baseball bat?”

“Yep,” you laugh, hefting the thing in your hand. “Kept me alive this long. All those years of softball finally paid off.”

Tess tells you what she was starting to build in Baltimore, and you can’t help but grin. The two of you are more similar than you thought. You return her stories in kind, details of your own ventures. “There are lots of ways in and out of the Boston QZ,” you tell her, “you just have to know where to look.”

You don’t ask about her and Joel, and she doesn’t offer the information. He hangs back the entire time, a good twenty feet behind you, rifle slung over his shoulder. You chance a glance back once or twice, mostly making sure he’s still there, and his hard gaze makes you freeze every time.

This definitely isn’t the reunion you’d imagined. Honestly, you’re not quite sure what you had envisioned, but this sure as hell ain’t it. Fuck, why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut?

You lead them through as quietly as possible, using a spot on the wall where the bricks have been cracked, leaving footholds behind for those who know to look for them. You send Tess up first, then Joel, and he waits at the top, grabs you by the arm and hauls you up the last foot. You open your mouth to say thank you, but he’s already released you, turned away yet again.

All right, so this is how it’s going to be.

Through the top level of the building, down the ladder into the alley. You stash your bat and your bag in the same place, tell Tess and Joel to leave their guns there, too. Joel’s reluctant, but Tess smacks his shoulder and he does as you say, that hard look on his face the entire time. 

Your boots splash in the same puddle they had last night. Tess is close behind you as you head out of the alley and skirt down the next building. A few more alleyways, heads ducked, avoiding soldiers and civilians alike, and you head down another alleyway, waiting for the coast to clear before shoving a dumpster aside, revealing a hole in the bricks that leads inside the empty warehouse.

“How did you—” Joel starts to ask, but cuts himself off.

You hold your arm out, gesturing him inside. “Quickly.”

The opposite end of the warehouse faces the gate almost directly. The windows on the lower level are covered with newspaper, shattered in some places, and you peer through one of the missing panes. Beside the main gate, there’s an office, of sorts. Where they take any survivors that make it to the gate, test them, either put them in the system or put a bullet in their heads.

“Wait here.” You prop open the window, slide through the gap and pop back up the other side. No one pays you any mind as you head towards the office, leaning up on your toes to peer through the little window in the door. Nick’s standing inside, staring at one of the old computer screens, and when you tap on the glass, he nods.

You turn back, waving at Tess. “C’mon.” They’re quick about it, and you push the door open once they’re close, following them both inside. Nick stares at Joel for a moment, meets your eyes over his shoulder. You try to school your face neutral, but you can’t tell if you get away with it or not.

“In there,” Nick says, the words blunt, and points down the hallway, to one of the smaller rooms. The office used to be a doctor’s office, you think; one main lobby, a bunch of smaller exam rooms down the hall. Joel and Tess do as he says, and you start to follow behind, but feel Nick’s hand on your shoulder. It makes you pause, and you look at him, turning beneath his hand.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” he asks, his voice low. “Joel.”

You repeat yourself to him a third time. “Does it matter?”

Nick’s brow creases. “Of course it fucking matters, Liv.”

You shake your head. “Just process them, please? Then you can throw me in lockup and this’ll all be over.”

The look on his face says he doesn’t believe you, but you push his hand off your shoulder, step into the room where Tess is standing, Joel sitting in one of the chairs, elbows on his knees. “This is Corporal Nick Cowan,” you introduce, jutting a thumb over your shoulder. “I trust him. He’ll test you both, put you through the system, and take you back to my place.” Your eyes flick to Joel. “Tommy should still be there.” You turn to look at Nick. “On the off chance he’s not, take them to Deanna’s.”

Nick gives you a curt nod, and you can feel Joel’s stare boring holes in your skull. It’s Tess that finally breaks the silence, concern on her face. “What about you? Why aren’t you taking us?”

“Cuz I’m gonna be in lockup,” you say, and Joel jumps to his feet, but doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t do anything but stare, “for the next two days.” You swallow hard. “There’s enough food at my place for you three, water too. Tommy knows where the whiskey is.” You give a little chuckle, staring down at your boots before lifting your head. There’s something like admiration in Tess’s eyes, whereas Joel is pure fire. You chew the inside of your cheek. “It’s fine, really. All part of the deal.”

“You’ve been in FEDRA lockup before?” Tess asks, crossing her arms.

You nod. “Once or twice. I’ve been caught by a couple other soldiers, but I have dirt on most of them. Makes it easier, but this is all part of the plan.” Your eyes dart to Joel before meeting Tess’s. “It’s fine. It’s worth it.”

Nick grabs your arm then, all business, fingers biting into your elbow. “Let’s go. Now.” His voice is louder, and you lift a brow as he pulls you back through the door. “You two, don’t move, or so help me god, I will throw you both right back through that gate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Seriously?”

He stares down at you. He’s angry, you realize. “Seriously.”

Nick yanks the door shut, Joel and Tess staring at you as it closes, and he all but pushes you down the hall to the door, out onto the road, towards the building where you’ll be for the next two days. Lockup. “There were other soldiers in there,” he mutters under his breath. “I had to make it somewhat believable.”

“Thank you.”

“Sure.”

+

Since the world ended, Joel will admit he’s gotten quick to judge. First impressions were hell before cordyceps ravaged the planet, but now they’re even worse, if not more important. But Joel’s met one too many terrible people, and he’s learned to be quick on the draw, quicker on his judgement.

He knows almost immediately that he does not care for Corporal Nick Cowan. At all.

Mainly, he doesn’t like the way Cowan was looking at you. He saw the way he stopped you outside the door, the two of you whispering under your breath to each other, an almost defiant look on your face. Are you two…?

He doesn’t finish the thought.

Joel’s mind has been churning from the moment he saw you, standing there in the gas station parking lot, that fucking baseball bat in your hand. Something else had taken over, something like happiness, spilling into the corners of his heart the moment he had you in his arms again. Alive, breathing, whole, right in front of him. He felt whole, for the first time in a long time, holding you like that. It felt…good.

And then you opened your mouth, and it all came crashing down.

He hasn’t forgotten. He can’t forget that night. The gunshots and the blood and the way Sarah had cried. The way he’d felt her go. It haunts his every step, her voice a constant reminder in the back of his mind. He knew he’d have to tell you, if he ever found you again, and in a way, he’s grateful his brother was the one to deliver the news, but the way you’d said it, the broken apology, the tears on your face, it was too much.

It is too much.

Cowan returns not ten minutes after he’d hauled you off, and Joel gets to his feet when the door opens. The soldier gives him a look, but Joel doesn’t flinch. He’s used to this shit; the FEDRA soldiers in Baltimore were the same. “You can sit,” Cowan says, but Joel doesn’t move. Tess sinks into the chair he’d been occupying. There’s a clipboard in the soldier’s hand, and he flips the page over. “Names.”

“Tess Servopoulos.”

“Joel Miller.”

“Date of birth.”

“April 9th, 1969.”

“September 26th, 1967.”

On and on it goes, until the page is full. Cowan doesn’t look at either of them once, and then takes the scanner from his belt. He’s not gentle with it, the hard press of plastic and the following tingle at Joel’s neck making him wince. The scanner turns green both times, and Cowan scoffs.

“Well, there you go.” The soldier sighs. “Boston QZ works about the same as Baltimore. You work for the community, keep it running, earn your ration cards. Liv will tell you where to find assignments, what jobs you’re allowed to take. She’s responsible for you for now, once she’s out. You stay in her place until she comes back, and we go from there.”

“We don’t get our own space?” Tess asks, and Cowan shoots her a look.

“You wait for Liv,” he says tersely, “and we go from there.”

Joel bites his tongue.

He leads them through the QZ quickly, both hands on his rifle. Joel itches for his own gun, stashed in your hideaway, but forces his hands into fists instead. Tess gives him a pointed look. Don’t fuck this up.

It irks his brain that Cowan just knows where your apartment is. Tommy opens the door after the soldier knocks, and pulls Joel into a hug, Tess afterward. “You made it.”

Tommy steps aside to let them in, and when Joel turns back to the door, the Corporal is gone.

Good fuckin’ riddance.

“Much nicer than the shit we had in Baltimore,” Tess comments, shucking her coat off, and Joel huffs a laugh. 

It’s…well, nice isn’t really the word. The flower wallpaper is something else but the place looks lived in, which already makes it better than the plain walls and nondescript shit they had in the Baltimore QZ. There’s a butterfly painted on the window, a bookshelf built into one wall, another little shelf between the two windows with a radio perched on top. The flower paper doesn’t continue along all the walls, giving way to a yellow colour, the lower two feet of the wall painted blue. There’s a big window near the bed, a tall wardrobe beside it, a cracked radiator, the bathroom tucked beside the bedroom.

Tommy makes lunch, some kind of instant mac and cheese that tastes all too familiar to Joel. But washing it down with a glass of whiskey definitely helps. Tess busies herself looking through your bookshelves, combing through the titles. 

“Where did she get all this stuff?” Joel asks. The shelves are filled with books, but there are other things too, little knickknacks and candles and tchotchkes. A little elephant made of jade. Joel picks it up, rubs his fingers over the carved edge.

“If you’d been listening, on the walk back,” Tess quips, an almost sing-song to her voice, “instead of being an asshole, you’d know. She’s been doing the same shit we have. Smuggling. Looting places that have been deserted. And she’s clearly better at it than we are.”

Joel says nothing, his brow lowering as he puts the elephant back on the shelf. There’s a little glass dish on one of the other shelves, filled with rings of all sizes and metals. Wedding rings, he realizes after a moment, engagement rings.

Tess hums. Joel watches as she reaches down, rubs her thumb over the silver band on her finger.

“Who is she, Joel?” Tess asks, and a zap of cold slides down his throat. “To you. Who was she? And don’t try to bullshit me and say nothing.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, instead of nothing, and walks away from the bookshelf. There are no doors between the different rooms, the living room and kitchen and bedroom one open space with a dividing wall. He walks towards your bed, lets his hand trail over the plaid sheets and blankets and sinks onto the edge, parks himself in front of the window.

He stays there, until the sun sets. 

Two days in lockup, you’d said. You wait for Liv, Cowan had instructed.

Part of him feels like he needs to apologize. He’s going about this wrong, he knows that. But the memory of what he’s lost has risen to the surface of his mind, and made him hurt. Made him all too aware of how broken he is.

With Tess, it doesn’t matter. He cares for her — of course he cares for her — but the line in the sand is clear. It’s stress-relief, comfort, a placeholder for what they’ve lost. Tess lost Nate, and Joel lost you.

And what the fuck did he do to deserve to find you again?

Tess crawls into bed, eventually. She doesn’t say a word to Joel, doesn’t invite him to lay with her. He can hear Tommy snoring on the other side of the thin wall that separates the living room and the bedroom, his brother sprawled on the couch.

He gets to his feet, scrubbing a hand over his face. The wardrobe door creaks as he pulls it open. There’s not much inside, clothing meant more for warmth than anything else, an assortment of sweaters and flannels. He knows he shouldn’t, feels a prickle of guilt up his spine as he drags his hand through the fabric. His fingers catch on something softer than the others, and he pinches blue flannel, striped with white and grey.

You kept his shirt. All this time. Held it close enough to take it with you when you left.

It makes him ache.

Joel wanders into the kitchen, grabs the bottle of whiskey from where it had been left on the worn kitchen table. It’s a mess of coffee cups, pages torn from notebooks, a collage of maps spread beneath everything else. He sees paths marked in red, on the maps, places circled and x’ed out, scribbled notes and times and dates. The kitchen sink is clean, a few plates stacked beside, evidence of Tommy’s cooking still on the stove. The fridge is slightly crooked, from when Tommy had pulled out the whiskey.

He sees it, from the corner of his eye, on the top door of the fridge. Held in place by a magnet shaped like a strawberry.

July 4th 2002

The magnet falls as he pulls the polaroid off, but he catches it before it can hit the ground. The picture is torn at one corner, the edges a little warped, but otherwise intact. He can remember that night. The warm summer air, your head on his shoulder, beer and barbecue in his belly, the awe on Sarah’s face as you all watched the fireworks together. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Joel puts the magnet back on the fridge, but keeps the picture in his hand, sinks into a chair at the table, takes a swig from the bottle of whiskey.

He doesn’t hear Tess until she’s sliding into the chair across from him. He says nothing, another long sip from the bottle as she pulls the polaroid from his grip. She looks at it for a long moment, smoothing her fingers over the edges before handing it back to him.

“Tell me who she is, Joel,” she says again, more of a statement than a question. “Please.”

Joel’s throat bobs. Tess doesn’t often say please.

He blows out a shaky breath. “A ghost,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching. “To be honest, I’m still not totally convinced she’s really here. That we’re really here.”

Tess grips his free hand, pushes the bottle away. “We are here, Joel. Liv is here.” She squeezes his fingers. “Please, I just wanna make sense of it all.” Tess pauses, leans back a little. “Did you love her?”

Joel just nods, the movement slow as molasses, making his neck ache. “Her parents owned a hardware store, back in Austin. She moved back from Michigan after she finished school, started working in the store, and I met her there. We had one summer, and then she got a job in Boston.”

“You let her go.”

His brow crinkles, and his fingers itch to reach for the bottle, but he doesn’t. “I couldn’t let her stay in Austin just for me, couldn’t let her throw away her future.” He shoves a hand through his hair. He’s still holding the picture. “We spent the rest of the summer together, and then she left. Came back the next summer, and we had another two weeks.” He rubs his thumb over the photograph, the image of you leaned against him. “But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough.”

“She broke it off?”

He lays the polaroid on the table, thumb still tracing your outline. “She met someone. Dean. The space was too much, for both of us. I understood. I let her go.”

“And then the world ended.”

Joel reaches for the bottle then, and takes a long swig before sliding it across to Tess. “And then the world ended.”

“So, she’s the reason you wanted to go to Boston.”

He can’t bring himself to look at Tess. “I called her that night, when everything happened. Told her to get out of Boston, that I’d find her. It was never about Boston, exactly, it was just about going East, praying that we might meet in the middle. I looked for her at every QZ, every shelter, every single time I saw a body in the street, I was looking for her.”

“But you found her,” Tess says, her voice low, and Joel forces his eyes to hers. “Joel, she’s alive. She’s right here. Second chances like this…” She trails off, shakes her head. “This kind of stuff doesn’t happen all the time, Miller, not anymore. This is…”

“If you call this a miracle, Tess, I swear to god.”

She scoffs a laugh. “No, not a miracle. But…something. You can’t—”

“I told you who she was,” he cuts her off, that same feeling rising in his throat again. What the fuck did he do to deserve a second chance with you? “Now drop it.”

“Joel—”

“Drop it, Tess.” He shoves his chair back, gets up, heads for the bed.

If she notices him take the polaroid with him, she doesn’t say anything.

+

Stairs are hell.

Every step makes your side scream in pain. The pressure you’ve been holding against your ribs has done little to ease the ache, and even breathing makes it worse. Your mouth tastes like blood, iron and tangy against your teeth, and you know you’re lucky as hell your cheek isn’t broken. Bruised to shit, yes, but not broken.

They were feeling feisty in lockup, worse than you’ve ever had it before. Nick left you with two other soldiers inside, muttering something about disturbing the peace. They processed you, put the charge on your record, and when another soldier came to get you, your stomach sank into your toes.

Angie.

The same soldier who’d been working the pharmacy when you’d gone to get inhalers for Henry. You hadn’t threatened her, not exactly, but you’d made it clear that you could do some damage if she didn’t give you what you wanted. The pharmacy is a no-violence zone; she couldn’t have hit you then even if she wanted to. It would get her in deeper shit than you.

But in lockup? A whole other fucking story.

She grabbed you roughly, all but shoving you through the doorway that led deeper into the building. You don’t think the building was originally like this, all cells and interrogation rooms; FEDRA must have built it themselves. 

You were expecting to get shoved into a cell right off the bat, but instead, she lead you to one of the rooms, pushed you inside and yanked the door shut behind you.

“What are you—”

Your words cut off with the first slap, a hard backhand that made your head snap to the side. You grunted, grabbing the back of a chair inside the room. You had half a mind to grab the thing with both hands and launch it at Angie, but that would only extend your time in lockup.

All you could do was sit there and take it.

Her second backhand made your teeth rattle, pain sparking behind your eyes. You nearly ducked to dodge the next hit, out of instinct, but forced yourself still, tears springing forth as her fist connected with your cheek. Over and over again, you just let her hit you. She hit you hard enough that you stumbled back, tripped over your own feet and the chair behind you and hit the ground. She didn’t waste any time driving her boot into your side, and you just curled inwards, just took it.

You weren’t sure exactly when she left, all you knew was that the blows stopped landing, but the pain didn’t. Two more soldiers came in after, picked you up off the floor, and carried you out of the room. They put you in a cell next, gave you a bottle of water and a blanket. The fabric was mottled with blood when you finally opened your eyes, and your face ached something fierce.

You slept it off, the rest of your time inside. Ate the shitty bread when it was offered, used the water to clean the blood from your face. And then, your forty-eight hours were up, and they let you go.

Part of you expected Nick to be waiting for you outside, but you were happy he wasn’t. You didn’t want to feel like you owed him anything more.

It took ages to get back to your building. Every step outside made pain shoot through your side; you’re pretty convinced at least one of your ribs is broken. And now, fucking stairs.

You almost fall against the doorjamb once you reach your apartment, digging in the pocket of your coat for your keys. You’re fumbling with the lock when the door swings inward, revealing Tess, bright-eyed and wearing one of your t-shirts. “Jesus Christ.”

You actually fall forward then, and Tess catches you, sliding an arm around your waist and dragging you over the threshold. 

“A little help here!” 

Tommy and Joel are both sitting on your couch, and they both jump to their feet the moment they see you. Tommy moves before his brother, and is at your side in an instant, taking some of your weight from Tess. You’re grateful as hell, though the movement makes your side scream in pain. They bring you towards the couch, and from the corner of your swollen eye, you see Joel move out of the way, heading in the direction of your bedroom. You’re in too much pain for it to really sting.

You cry out as they lower you onto the couch. Tommy looks frantic, and Tess disappears for a moment, coming back with a wet cloth. She drags it over your cheek and you whimper.

“She’s messed up,” she says, you assume to Tommy. “They have a clinic here, right? Like in Baltimore.”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, “saw it when I first got here. I can go—”

You flail an arm out, your hand landing on Tommy’s leg. “Get Deanna.”

You think he nods — you hope he nods — and you hear the door bang shut a moment later. Tess wipes at your face more; guess you didn’t get as much blood off as you thought.

“Tess,” you call softly, and her eyes snap to yours. “You don’t have to—”

“Oh, shut up,” she tells you, her voice almost stern. You want to laugh. “Who did this to you? FEDRA? Cowan?”

“Not Cowan. Pissed off the wrong girl, I guess.” You actually scoff out a laugh, but it makes your ribs sing with pain. “Can’t fight back in lockup.”

Tess’s brow wrinkles. “Good to know it’s the same shit all over in some way, at least.”

You go quiet, for a long moment. Tess holds the cloth against your cheek, and you revel in the cool feeling, letting your eyes flutter shut. The pain throbs with every beat of your heart, every breath you take, but her hands are gentle, almost soft.

“Joel told me,” she says, breaking the silence that’s been filled only with your shaking breaths. “About the two of you, about…before.”

Tears fill behind your closed eyelids, and you feel them slip down your cheeks. “Doesn’t matter now,” you say, trying to shake your head but failing miserably. “He doesn’t…”

“Don’t worry about what he does or doesn’t. He’s a stubborn ass.”

“You two—”

She puts a finger on your lips, shushing you. “I said, don’t worry about it, Liv.” She shakes her head, brow pinched, moving the cloth to dab at the corner of your mouth. “Not right now.”

You hear the door open, and a moment later, Deanna’s face comes into view, hovering over you. “What the hell did you do, girl?”

“Made a deal,” you say, “but it was worth it.”

Through the thin wall, you think you hear Joel sigh, the noise long and deep.

PREV | NEXT

[eureka-its-zico]

A Body of Stars

Ongoing series

Synopsis: With a galaxy at war, it’s hard to distinguish the stars from the metal of UNSC ships. You were told about the war that waged between the UNSC and insurrectionists; your planet opposing them since you were born. Your enemy was meant to be the UNSC and the Spartans they created, specifically John-117 - the Master Chief. Except, all isn’t as black and white as you were raised to believe, and the galaxy holds secrets far darker than you could’ve imagined.

Pairing: John - 117 x F!Reader

Genre: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, Halo TV series/Mass Effect mashup

Warnings: mentions of war, violence

Word count: 11.7k

A/N: Alright. As hyper fixations go, the Halo series (and let’s be real, Pablo is a menace) has my ass in a chokehold. That being said, season 2 was amazing and made me want to work on a small fic that blended the series and my love of BioWare’s Mass Effect. Mass Effect is my favorite sci-fi space game about galactic war, friendship, love, sacrifice. I could rant but I won’t. There will be mentions of certain ME things in here, like the reader having biotics, to go along with the lore of the halo series. So, without further ado: its back story time. I hope someone out there enjoys this and as always, thank you for reading 🖤 much love, Jenn

Year: 2521

•Shadow Sea cluster•

•Lera system•

Destination: Laconix

ETA: 13 hours

The Midsummer Night came out of slip space without a hitch.

Not that he’d been worried. It was one of the few things that Captain Jacob Keyes hadn’t worried about during this current mission. What, or rather who, currently worried him was standing less than ten yards from him and came in the form of his ex-wife. He risked a glance where Dr. Catherine Halsey was hunched over with her nose deep inside another holopad. 

Those holopads had been one of the many reasons why their marriage fell apart. 

There was no doubting the brilliance her work contributed to the scientific field or the war effort. All of her research was the stepping stone humanity needed in terms of augmentation and the human genome. The contributions Halsey and her Spartans made towards this never-ending battle against the covenant saved lives, but, and it was a big but, Jacob knew that Halsey’s methods were questionable, at best. Hell, he’d been a part of those questionable decisions, driving the helm, while she did what she deemed was necessary. 

Vital. 

So, Jacob Keyes knew without her ever having to say a word that something was off. The Midsummer Night and the Pegasus holding Halsey’s darling Spartain-III’s were meant to go for a routine extraction. Intel indicated one of the leaders in the insurrectionist rebel groups, Kahn Montrello, was located on a planet within the Lera system of the Shadow Sea cluster. It was a typical snatch-and-grab unless they were met with resistance. 

Halsey requesting to tag along was more than just a surprise. It was suspicious. Jacob knew Halsey didn’t do anything without purpose.

“Tell me again why you’ve insisted on inserting yourself into a routine mission dealing with insurrectionists?”

Halsey hadn’t even looked up from the damn holopad to acknowledge he’d walked over. 

“I’m just here to gather some data while the Silver Team is dispatched to help your marines on the ground.”

Jacob’s boots scuffed against the metal of the bridge as he moved closer to her. His eyes on Catherine’s back - willing her to turn, to acknowledge him - as her gaze held tightly to the readings she’d taken from a tablet from her lab. The data was transferred to the larger scale computer in the bridge’s main console. Halsey’s eyes roaming endlessly through data Jacob himself knew he’d never understand without her help. 

“Come on, Catherine. That may be the bullshit you fed Parangosky and the other admirals, but don’t feed me the same lies and expect it to go down smoothly.”

Halsey broke away for the briefest millisecond from whatever data she was reading. Her eyes skimmed over him before returning back to what was more important.

Research in the name of human exploration always was.

“It’s not bullshit. Data collected in the field is highly valuable for furthering my research; proof to Parangosky the Spartan research is worth her continued funding.”

“That’s a nice speech, Catherine, but I know that any collected data during the mission is recorded and sent back to your lab for analysis. So, when are you going to start telling me something honest?”

Honesty. 

Asking Halsey to be anything other than secretive was like asking a tiger to get rid of its stripes. Jacob knew even if she told him - really shared - it still wouldn’t be all of the actual information. Key pieces of information - the most valuable - would be forever stored within her; leverage for another day. 

Whatever it was she could see on those holopads had her sky blue eyes wide in excitement. Halsey wouldn’t be able to contain it - hide it - for much longer.  If the small rise at the corner of her mouth was any indication, all Jacob needed to do was push a little further. Find the right words to spark a rush of hypotheticals that might turn out to hold some truth. If she didn’t crack yet, it would take one more well-placed question and she would cave. 

“Jacob,” her voice was breathy, tinged with unrestrained joy. “I think I found something.”

“What are you talking about, Catherine? Found something?”

More cryptics. More hoops. 

A sigh heavy with years of fights - conflicts - departed his lips and Halsey rushed to recover some ground. Her body quickly took back the space he left to place her hand gently on his bicep. The grip was soft but demanding that he stay close; pleading with him not to pull away.

Halsey needed him. 

“A few weeks ago the UNSC sent over old documents from companies they’d disassembled. Conatix was one of them.”

It wasn’t hard to spot the confusion that deepened the lines in the crease of Jacob’s forehead and scrunched up his nose. His eyes roamed her face searching for a tell, but if Halsey had one she’d never show it. 

“Conatix was an old UNSC factory that produced our warships-“

“Yes, I know.”

“Why would you be interested in anything about warships?”

Halsey scanned the room to make sure no one was watching - no eyes lingering on the two of them - before she directed her attention back to him. The caution that darkened her eyes shifted with a spark Jacob knew all too well. 

Halsey had found something. Really found something. 

“Usually, nothing of value would be of interest in old documents and schematics for warships but, while scrolling through the files I stumbled upon an encrypted file.”

“UNSC documentation is always encrypted when it’s being shipped out to-“

“To be destroyed, yes I already know that, Jacob,” Halsey cut in. Her body directed back towards the holopad that she carefully picked up. Her fingers darted across the screen hunting for the files in question. “But this was different. It wasn’t schematics or calculations - it was redacted - sealed documents about an incident.”

No sooner had she started Halsey was finished. Her hand reached out to give him the holopad and waited patiently for him to take it. 

“Go ahead.”

Jacob looked around the ship's bridge to make sure no one was watching. He needed to be careful, not necessarily for Halsey’s sake, but for that of his crew. He should’ve known - did know - Halsey had a habit, a bad one, to go above the chain of command to get what she wanted. That leverage she saved for a rainy day coming in hot to throw around pawns and pieces as she saw fit to get her way. 

Cautiously, Jacob secured the holopad from her and started looking at the documents, or what little he could see. Almost with every swipe all he saw were broken links and documents with holes of information missing. Sentences that formed into two words with the rest gone or replaced by shapes and numbers. An elaborate break in the code. 

“I was able to decipher most of them. Get back what information they tried to hide-“

“Catherine,” he whispered her name in warning, not for himself, but for her. 

“Jacob - this wasn’t about warships or weapons or schematics. Something happened. A ship they’d used with element zero - eezo - had leaked out over a few colonies. A hole in one of the port engines that wasn’t caught in time.”

“Catherine,” Jacob pleaded again, “This isn’t news or anything that concerns you or me.”

Halsey wasn’t going to back down. He knew she wouldn’t. Not when the sheer joy of finding something undiscovered was close. The science behind furthering human evolution. The moment he realized what this was - what he held in his hands - Jacob knew his eyes were saucers. The sudden shock of realization stunning him to the spot. 

“Children, Jacob,” Halsey practically laughed. “The pregnant mothers who were infected by the particles gave birth to children with eezo ingrained into their nervous system. The abilities these files claim they saw…it’s like nothing I’ve ever read.”

In her excitement, Halsey reached out and took a hold of his arm. The startled warmth of her touch was enough to knock Jacob back out of his daze. His eyes skimming one more time over impossible things he saw in diagrams Halsey recreated. 

“Even if that was true, you don’t even know if any of them are still alive or where they are.”

With her lips curved up in victory, Halsey plucked the holopad from his hands. 

“Yes I do. We’re headed there now.”

————-

“You get caught staring up at the sky again and Caster is going to throw a fit.”

“When isn’t he throwing a fit?”

Your question wasn’t meant for an answer. The words barely made it above a whisper while you kept watch on the green hued light that streaked across the sky like a river. Calling it green felt like you were doing it a disservice. You knew it was more than that - the way it moved with purpose across the endless blue above. The different shades that reminded you of the grass on which you stood and dark as the forest that surrounded you. 

“Come on,” Thao called over his shoulder. Your name calling from his lips like it would be enough to coax you forward. “I want to get back to actually enjoy what little of my day I have left.”

“You can enjoy it now,” you reminded him. 

It took a few more seconds - another millisecond after that - for your eyes to turn back to the world around you. The snap of a branch somewhere off to your right informing you Thao had taken off without waiting for you to catch up. 

“Not when my friends are back at the colony having fun without me. And I’m out here looking for dumb ass yaks.”

A small tut of disapproval clicked at the roof of your mouth. Your stride easily brings you closer to the shorter eleven-year-old boy. It allowed you to gently ruffle his hair. Your efforts were greeted by a grunt of annoyance with his hand grabbing at your wrist to gently shove you away. 

“And just think, you would be there now, doing whatever it is you troublemakers do, if you and your friends hadn’t set a flare off inside Caster’s hut. And don’t disrespect the yaks.”

Thao’s eyes disappeared inside his head as your elbow gently nudged his shoulder. You must be making some kind of progress, because this time he made no move to push you away. 

“Old man deserved it. Always hoarding the chicken eggs.”

“He owns the chickens.”

“So?”

“So,” you drawled, “it means he owns the eggs. Owning the eggs also means he gets to distribute them however he sees fit.”

“How is that fair? You know he gave Lydia and her kids three eggs last week? Three eggs. What is a family of five supposed to do with that? It’s not right.”

You knew what Thao meant. You understood the feeling of anger that burned into sadness and ultimately to the ash of defeat. Kahn allowed those who proved useful in the fight against the UNSC to have a majority hold on most of the items in the colony. Those who allowed themselves to be shuffled around an unseeable chessboard like pawns. 

Willing to die, to give up everything, at his disposal. 

All in the name of fighting a government who grew more powerful everyday. The UNSC sharing their own videos of propaganda that showed thousands upon thousands of soldiers equally willing to die for a cause, and Spartans being the unmovable force needed to shift any battle back into the UNSC’s favor. It was this very reason Kahn looked for those desperate enough to join, to do anything he asked, to win. 

A devoted father agrees to be a walking bomb to blow up a UNSC building? His family is rewarded with food, wood, and blankets to help make it through the harsh winters. Attempting to infiltrate a building to release a virus, whether you were caught or not, Kahn took care of your family. It could be with livestock, guns for protection, or even the yaks whose pelts made the biggest profit at the markets. 

Every loss of life was just another reminder of the men and women who slowly disappeared from the colony. A senseless loss of life. You were still trying to figure out what it was for; what purpose you hadn’t been able to see, because for every life lost in the pursuit of justice against the USNC, their numbers only grew. The colony's numbers, however, weren't so lucky. 

“You could turn this war around.”

“I won’t kill for you, Kahn.”

You swiftly whipped your head to the side to rid yourself of the memory. Your eyes narrowing on the green rolling hills on the other side of the treeline. That was where you would find the yaks grazing. You gently patted Thao’ss shoulder - for whatever comfort it would give - before you moved forward to take point. 

“That’s because it isn’t fair, Thao.”

“See! Even you agree,” Thao huffed out your name. His small body broke into a jog to match your hurried step. “If anyone in the colony would be able to kick his ass, it would be you.”

Your feet were turning before you’d even realized it. Your body answered the piercing spike of adrenaline in your blood with your hands shooting out to grab his shoulders. The action made you crouch a couple inches until you were face-to-face with Thao. Your eyes scanned wildly across his features reading nothing but uncertainty. 

“Don’t ever say something like that out loud again, Thao. Do you understand me?”

“I was only saying-“

“I know what you're trying to say. The answer is no, and if Kahn or any of his dumbass lackies ever heard you even mention something like that we are both as good as dead.”

“But-“

“Tell me you understand!”

If anyone asked why you felt the sudden surge of panic ripple over your skin, you wouldn’t be able to say, or  place where it stemmed from. Technically, the both of you were out in the safety of the mountain fields and away from the prying eyes of Kahn’s dictatorship. Lost behind a sea of forest, the rolling fields of green, and poppies that puddled around you like blood. 

You’d seen what Kahn and his insurrectionists were capable of. Any whisper - false or not - and the person went missing. Kahn ruled the colony with the fear generated by the UNSC, but cultivated his own like the boogeyman. 

“Yeah I get it. Whatever.”

Thao shrugged out of your hold and turned away from you. His pre-teen feet stomped a path out of the tree line and out into the field. A sigh left you, worn and heavy, as you watched his retreat. 

I Should’ve been softer…

You let out a huff of air as a hand scrubbed over your face. It was supposed to be a simple ‘herd the yaks back to the colony’ type of day. Not grovel to one of the only people - kid or not - who wasn’t afraid of you. 

It was your turn to jog after his retreating form. Quickly, you noticed that he didn’t even look up to acknowledge your presence. He wasn’t sending jokes about being an old lady (you were twenty-four, thank you very much) whose brittle bones could snap under the strain of being a person. You would’ve taken being called an old lady than suffering through the silent treatment. 

Gently, you nudged his shoulder with your elbow. When he didn’t turn you tried again and again until, finally, you were rewarded with him turning an annoyed side-eye in your direction. You gave him your best apologetic smile and carefully looped your arm around his shoulders to bring him in close. 

“I’m sorry. Okay? I was kind of an asshole.”

“A major asshole.”

“Okay. I’ll accept that major part but only for today.”

“If there was an asshole award, you would’ve taken home the prize-“

“Okay, geez. I get it.”

You both settled into a comfortable pace with your arm still draped over his shoulders. Your mind raced back to the last time you’d been able to do this.  Thao had been younger - shorter - and with the rate he was growing, you soon might not be able to reach him. Soon, Thao might not care for your company. 

“You know, I am surprised you didn’t fracture an ankle running after me at your tender age.”

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” you grumbled in mock annoyance. 

You ended up having to shove him away just to try and hide the smile that threatened to lift the edges of your mouth. The sound of Thao’s laughter at your weak attempt at being mean - he 100% knew it took way too much to even make you raise your voice - made the crack of a smile begin to form. 

The yaks were about another ten or so feet ahead of you both. Their massive bodies moved in slow steps while they grazed along the long grass. You weren’t sure if it was their adorable long bangs that made it impossible for them to notice you right away (doubtful) or if they just didn’t consider either of you a threat (possible). Either way, they didn’t startle as the two of you closed the remaining distance. Didn’t jump up to try and kick or gore either of you with their horns when Thao produced the ropes from his satchel. 

It took a grand total of ten minutes, maybe less, to have all seven of the yaks securely held in makeshift collars from the rope. Their large bodies begrudgingly followed the two of you as you gently pulled the lead, forcing them to give up their meal of dewy grass and follow you back through the treeline. 

“You know,” Thao cautiously began, his eyes skimming between you and the trees. “This might be a lot faster if you just…ya know, float them up.”

“Float them up?”

“With your blue magic.”

This time you weren’t able to hide your smile as you shook your head. 

“It’s called biotics, Thao, not blue magic.”

“Blue magic sounds waaaay cooler than ‘biotics’. Who even came up with that lame name, anyway.” 

“You can thank the good folks at Conatix for that one.”

One of the yaks pulled back on its lead forcing you to give a slight tug back. You could understand if they were tired after eating, but you really didn’t have time in your schedule for yak naps. A huff of air came from the nostrils of the yak to drive home that it wasn't happy not having its nap. Or maybe it was the berry bush it was after, either way, napping and eating stops were prohibited. 

You weren’t aware the conversation had died until Thao’s voice interrupted the silence. 

“Is it true that you were born like that?”

His question was timid - afraid he would upset you. You were used to the questions; the stares. You remember sitting with your parents in a room, about Thao’s age, when Conatix came back around trying to clean up their mess. Said mess being spilling eezo from their ships across planets that later infected children. While some pregnant mothers had children like you, exposed to element zero in the womb creating a nervous system made of eezo, a majority were far less lucky. Children born riddled with tumors or horrific physical complications that left them in pain their entire lives. 

You were supposed to be a lucky one. 

One of the lucky ones they’d been trying to take back with them to their laboratories. A lucky one meant to be bought by a substantial fee that your parents quickly declined. It was the last choice they ever got to make for you before they mysteriously died in a tragic accident off-world. 

“Yes.”

You didn’t feel lucky and maybe it was the way the words crumbled out of your mouth. The way they sat suspended in the air in a swirl of regrets and dead wishes that Thao knew you didn’t want to talk anymore. Not about your past or anything that reminded you that what you are - who you are - has felt like one big burden. You wondered, most nights, if there was a possibility that curses could be born. 

————

The rest of the walk back was filled with an awkward silence. You weren’t sure if it was one you’d made by your lack of response, or if Thao no longer felt like talking. A part of you feared the image he’d held of you since he was young, full of mystery that made you seem cool, was slowly becoming destroyed. You knew it was a matter of time before it happened.

You were an anomaly. 

Children saw you as magical, while adults believed you could perform some kind of mind control or read their thoughts. It was the main reason Kahn wanted you to join the resistance. Who wouldn’t want someone who could read thoughts and control minds on their team? You’d know when and where attacks could happen and make them blow up their ships from the inside. Unfortunately, for Kahn, the only thoughts you could read were your own and, as of right now, they were desperately shouting at you not to lose one of the few friends you had left. 

Even if they happened to be a young boy who was notorious for being the most talkative kid in the colony. 

With a few more steps up the hill, you both came to a stop at the top of the hill. You took in the thatched roofs of the huts that lay scattered in a misshapen circle of rows. The outer ring of homes were made of clay and the only splash’s of color came from designs being painted on the sides of homes or flowers planted in the yard. 

The middle ring was meant to be for men like Kahn and his commanders; men and women of importance so that they lived closer to the final, smaller ring, of storefronts and farmers. The middle circle was left open and featured a large walkway down the center of town and out into the hills. 

Kahn specifically had the colony built this way. The walkway was the most important, because Kahn believed it was good for his people to be able to watch those that fought for their freedoms return from another victory against the UNSC. You knew it was more about parading around having people kiss his ass than for uplifting any kind of morale. 

It was the same path that Thao and you took now as you brought in the yaks from the mountains. You knew it wouldn’t be long until you got them back inside their pen and with the irritated snorts and tugs on their leashes, the yaks knew it too. The sound of multiple small feet came rushing in on Thao’s side and the faces of a few village children came into view. They made sure to stop just before they got in the way of a yak. 

“Thao, can you come play?” 

“Not yet. I have to finish this choir for Caster.”

A lot of groaning ensued and you felt your free hand reach over the back of a yak. Your fingers waving for him to give you his leashes. Thao’s brow raised in question and you only answered him by pointing at the leash and waving him again to hand it over. 

“Hurry up and give them to me before I change my mind.”

You were trying to be grumpy. The way any elder in town would complain about the youth of today being too soft and not knowing the meaning of hard work and blah blah. You were sure they were all just stuck in super grouchy mode from having to be an adult with responsibilities for too long. And because of that, you knew, instead of looking grumpy, a smile was already brightening up your face. Thao’s face lit up in response and his eyes darted - unsure - from up the path and back to you. 

“Are you sure? Caster -“

“Will never know that you didn’t help bring them all the way back. Now, like I said, hand over the lead before I suddenly have a fit of amnesia.” 

He didn’t need further prompting. Thao’s hand smashed the remaining leashes into your waiting palm and turned on his heel to run off with the other kids. A soft, “thank you,” calling out behind him. 

You didn’t waste any more  time watching their retreating backs as they tore down a small alleyway between huts. You had your own things that you still needed to finish today. As you continued on your way, you greeted people who were outside in their gardens or hanging up laundry. Some of them returned your greetings of, “Hello,” with grunts with their backs turned to you or hurried inside. Apparently, if they didn’t look you in the eye or were behind the safety of a wall it kept you from using your mind control powers. 

You were willing to bet Kahn had something to do with that latest lie about your make believe abilities. If you wouldn’t fight for him, why not cause a little mass panic in your presence. You being the monster and him, the hero, forcing you to toe the line. No ‘mind reading’ unless it was for the ‘cause’. 

As you neared the pen in front of Caster’s shop, you started to rotate the leashes tighter in your hands. You were positive if the yaks felt a slack in their leash, they would attempt a revolt. They also weren’t the biggest fan of the metal pen of broken down ships Caster created to house them; the metal of an old hatch door from a USNC frigate - rusted and covered in moss - groaned as it opened. A sound the yaks knew well and instantly sent their hooves stamping into the muddy grass. 

“Alright, ladies, I don’t want any trouble. It’s time to get your butts back in here - whoa!”You shot around with a start as one of the yaks gently bumped its nose against your back sending you forward towards the pen. “None of that,” you mumbled. Your index finger pointing at your chest then back to every single one of them. “Your home, not mine. Now go.”

With a cautious glance over your shoulder you took a step forward leading the herd inside. It wasn’t until you’d begun to remove their leashes that the familiar sound of a man clearing his throat brought your gaze up to search the fence. It didn’t take long for you to find Caster leaning against it. An arm hanging over while the other held up whatever self-righteous bullshit questioning he was about to spew. 

“Where’s Thao?”

“He helped me bring them here, Caster. I sent him on his way once we reached the pen.”

“That’s not what he was told to do and you don’t have any authority to change orders.”

Every word reached you like a slap in the face. Caster’s irritation was evident with the click of his tongue. You tried to keep your face neutral; your gaze fixed on one of the yak's as your fingers ran through the tangled fur. You gave one final pat to signal your departure before you walked back to the pen’s exit. 

“I wasn’t aware Thao had to be the specific individual to deliver a bunch of yaks inside the pen.”

“Bullshit,” Caster snarled your name. His body closing the distance between you as you stepped through the pen entrance. “You can try and play dumb with me all you want, but we both know you aren’t that damn dense. Thao can’t shut up even for a second in his sleep, and you’re trying to tell me the boy magically didn’t complain the whole time he was with you?”

Caster invaded what little space you had once you stepped fully out from behind the pen. The door hadn’t even closed yet before Caster rushed you, attempting to trap you between him and the metal. The cold gray of his eyes roamed your face waiting for you to break at his intimidation. 

One of the Shadow Sea’s three moons would have to explode first before that ever happened. 

You jammed the cool metal of the pens chains into his chest. You didn’t bother to see if he would catch it when you released it. You knew he would, and when Caster did, you made sure to take a step towards him forcing the older man two options; hold his ground or back up. You weren’t surprised when he did the latter. 

“You’re right, Caster, I’m not that damn dense. Close up your own fucking pen.”

You didn’t give him the chance to reply. The first step you took forced him to take another step back, your shoulder ramming into his as you pushed your way past him. 

Could you have gone around? 

Yes, but, no matter what, it felt a lot better being petty for a couple of seconds than pretending for a second you cared. 

It didn’t take Caster long to find his bearings. The sound of the chains rustling in his hands and a slew of curses thrown at your back were the first to greet you before he yelled after you: “Just wait until Kahn hears about this!”

“Yea, yea,” you mumbled.

You were willing to bet no matter how the exchange between Caster and you went, Kahn was always going to hear how it went. Good or bad. Caster yelled something else at your retreating back. You responded with a wave and continued back down the main path before you veered off course into a smaller path. It was one you knew well since you were a child. One you knew led to your grandparents' hut. 

Smoke rose from the clay chimney and you knew, before you entered through the doorway, you’d find your grandfather working to dry his latest clay pots by the fire. Your grandmothers weathered fingers working tirelessly with a needle and her beadwork scattered over the small table. It was only a few days before everyone with goods left to try and sell them at the Market. You moved through the small space stopping to kiss the top of your grandmother’s head before you gently took over for your grandfather. 

“And where did you run off to this morning?” 

You didn’t have to look up to feel the weight of your grandfather’s stare. His scrutinizing eyes waiting for you to give him a response knowing full well it wasn’t going to be the one he wanted.

“There is no need to worry, grandpa. I was nowhere and everywhere all at once.”

“That sentence alone turned what little hair I have left white.”

“All of your hairs’ already white.”

“Precisely my point,” he groaned. 

The soft chuckle of your grandmother cut through the tension in the small room. Your eyes now directed to the open flame and focused on turning the pot slowly with the tongs. The last thing you wanted to hear on top of giving your grandfather white hair and an early grave was ruining a pot he’d worked on most of this morning. 

“Would you two stop it? I’m sure she has a perfectly good explanation for why she was missing this morning. Don’t you dear?”

Your grandmother sent a coy look in your direction and you couldn’t wait to completely crush her dreams. While your grandfather believed in hard work, your grandmother believed in finding a good spouse who could provide for the imaginary great grandchildren she’d already named. 

Either that or joining the resistance. 

“I was out helping Thao rally up the yaks that ran away this morning.”

A sigh so heavy escaped from your grandfather’s chest that you could’ve sworn all your ancestors before you joined him. 

“And there it is.”

The soft call of your name forced your attention back to where your grandmother now sat idle. Her hands placing the beadwork and adjoining needles on the table. Her small frame turned on the bench to make sure she had your full attention. 

“I’m happy you want to help but you already know Kahn will-“

“Will throw a bitch fit. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

A smack on your arm sent you jolting back in surprise. Your eyes cautiously roaming over to your grandmother to see if she was going to hit you again. With how tightly her lips were pressed together, you had a feeling, with some of the things that came from your mouth, the possibility of her doing it again was imminent. 

“Whether you like him or not, Kahn is our leader.”

“No, he is your leader. Kahn will never be mine. A real leader doesn’t sacrifice their people to gain information or so they don’t get locked up inside a UNSC prison.”

“And do you think there is someone more fit to lead if he was gone? Who do you think would run the rebellion?”

“Plenty of more competent individuals could step forward to take his place if he wasn’t aro-“

You realized you sounded like Thao who, hours before, you’d shushed him into complacency. Your fear for his safety was paramount over how right his words might have been. And here you were doing the exact same thing inside your grandparents hut. 

“Enough!” 

Your grandfather wasn’t known for raising his voice and when he did it was usually out of desperation; a fear that surpassed anger that delved into worry from the unknown. You could see it now etched into every wrinkle that creased in the sagging skin of his sunburnt face. The way he tried to hold onto the anger before it was swept away by something he wouldn’t voice in fear of giving it a name. 

“Whether you like it or not, Kahn runs this settlement. He is the only one working here to free us from the tyrant that is the UNSC! At least he is doing something, which is more than I can say for my own granddaughter!”

“Ernest,” your grandmother’s voice cautioned. 

“So you want me to just let him use me like some kind of weapon?”

You no longer cared about holding the pinchers over the fire or the clay pot - your grandfather's life’s work - held delicately between them. As you stood up from the stool you dropped the pinchers and the sound of clay cracking tapered over your shuddering breathing for just a moment. You moved away from the fire towards a corner of the room closest to the door. The thunder in your ears drowning out the shouts of your grandmother; your eyes coming in and out of focus as you tried to ease the panic from your veins. 

It would only take a second - a fatal second of panic to fill the room with a cobalt hue of flame that would ruin everything. 

“Kahn offers you a way to use your gift, to teach you how to use it, and better help our people and you spit in his face!” He hissed. “Your parents gave their life for the cause-“

“And what has Kahn given!?” You hadn’t meant to scream. Each word laced with a grief stricken with rage that only bloomed brighter over time. “He asks families to give their husbands, wives, their children to fight his battles and what the fuck does he do for us?!”

“Why can’t you ever see that you can help save us? Kahn can help teach you how to control it.”

“Help me control it or control me?”

“You ungrateful child.”

His words hissed through the air and buried themselves in the hollow of your chest. Your feet involuntarily took a step back, ready to flee the hut, ready to find peace in the hills of the forest when the collective raised shouts of the villagers rang out from behind the walls. 

“UNSC vessels spotted!”

It was the distraction you needed to escape the hut. The shouts of worried men and women pushing you to rush outside and greedily take gulp after gulp of fresh air until the flare, the warmth, of your power began to dig back inside your skin. When you dragged your gaze away from the grass you were greeted with villagers running back and forth. The ones who sprinted down the open lane back out towards the open forest only ended up coming back moments later. 

You made your way out into the crowd, weaving in between the bodies to get to the heart of the circle their bodies created. They all stood in large huddled groups; mothers clutching their children and the able bodied men moving in front of them, in front of everyone, to try and guard them. The villagers who tried running down the main road were coming, as if herded, back to the center of the village. You didn’t understand why they were all running back to the middle. 

This was a kill zone. 

Strategically the worst place to be for any of the resistance fighters if they were going to make any attempt to fight back. It wasn't until you made it to the middle that your earlier rage turned to ice as you watched the UNSC marines, and four very big fucking Spartans, make their way up the middle. 

If Spartans were here you knew no one stood a chance. A fight would be suicide. You needed to get back to your grandparents. You needed - 

“Attention settlers of the Lera system of Laconix: I am Captain Jacob Keyes of the USNC. We have viable intel that led us to believe that you are harboring a fugitive by the name of Kahn Montrello - a known insurrectionist. We are asking for your cooperation in this matter. We can resolve this matter peacefully, with no need to resort to any unnecessary violence.”

“Screw you! You have no jurisdiction here or any outer colonies.”

Fred. That was his name. Maybe. You didn’t know - couldn’t remember. Your brain couldn’t think past your own rushing pulse or speeding thoughts. He was just pushing past the crowd with angry shouts and limbs flying while he moved towards them. You watched as he made his way towards the marines like a man on fire, and was met by a Marine who burned brighter. The butt of their gun cracking against his cheek sent him spiraling to the ground. 

You weren’t sure if you were already panicked or if the sight of blood seeping through his fingers caused it. No matter what the real reason was you knew there was no getting around whatever came next. Like a swarm of locusts, the marines fanned out and moved forward. Their bodies corralled the villagers tighter together and kept any hope of escape at bay. 

It was the perfect time for Kahn to make his appearance. His form practically glided from between a lake of terrified bodies frozen in fear, clutching one another, as he opened his arms in welcome. 

“You say you wish us no violence, only want our cooperation, and yet attack a simple working man.”

“You need to stay where you are or you will be taken down with force,” a marine answered, their gun trained on Kahn who continued to take careful steps forward. 

He responded with his hands showing he wasn’t armed. Kahn made a show to come to a stop in front of Captain Keyes. 

“Maybe that was advice you should’ve opened with, Captain Keyes.”

Kahn was treating this like a joke. He was wearing that easy smile of his displaying he didn’t have a care in the world. He was either suicidal, genocidial in willing to let them completely kill the colony or, you realized with a sickening drop in your stomach, Kahn had another plan. 

“And you are?”

“I’m Malcom. Another humble merchant who lives here.”

Liar! 

The panic that settled like lead inside your gut dropped heavier, threatening to upend whatever was left from your morning breakfast. You didn’t have to guess what his plans were, because Kahn was laying them bare for everyone to see. The only difference between you and everyone else is that whoever he chose to sacrifice for the name of his ‘revolution’ would be met with silence. 

Captain Keyes outlined Kahn’s frame with suspicion and a pebble of hope was thrown your way. Maybe he could sense the lie that costed Kahn’s words. Maybe it would be enough for him to call bullshit. 

“Okay, Malcolm. And what is it you’re wanting?”

“I want nothing, Captain. I just want to show you exactly who you are looking for.” 

Kahn never intended to point the finger at himself - why would he when there were dozens of men brainwashed to think their sacrifice mattered. You followed his finger like everyone else drawn to the imaginary string he pulled and waited to see what poor fool he chose this time. 

Except this time - no…NO! 

It was your grandfather who took a step forward out of the dozens of bodies. The wooden tip of his cane met the ground with a depth of a shovel digging a grave with each step. Your grandmother reached out her arms - called for him to come back - but he continued to make his way forward. His head held high like he was making a decision everyone should be proud of. 

“I am Kahn Montrello. The man you seek.”

Captain Keyes took one look at your grandfather and you could see the disbelief reflected in his eyes. The way they darkened further on a decision you, or anyone else, would ever be made aware of until he made it. 

“I’ve never known an insurrectionist leader to give themselves up so willingly.”

Thank god Captain Keyes was smarter than he looked. Your grandfather, however, wasn’t backing down. He squared his shoulders and planted his hands coolly over the hilt of his cane. His head held high enough for his next words to strangle him. 

“Any leader should be willing to give themselves up for the safety of their people. Is that what you can offer me, Captain Keyes? The safety of my colony if I come willingly?”

“What are you doing?”

You were sure it was the panic that surged you forward. How you found yourself taking step after step until you were out from behind every last villager and into the clearing with Kahn and your grandfather. 

“Stay back!”

“Don’t take another step forward!”

You were vaguely aware of the commands being slung your way. The arms that lifted weapons as you took scrambling steps towards your grandfather who only looked on with distaste. 

“Go back with the others. I won’t tell you again.”

It was the voice he’d used countless times since you were a child. A voice that radiated with authority that now only showcased his age. A part of you wanted to follow his orders and run to your grandmother’s side. To be a good granddaughter and comfort her the way she needed. 

But she wouldn’t need comforting if Kahn wasn’t such a fucking coward. 

“No!”

He hissed your name as he nervously looked out over the marines. At Captain Keyes.

“Be good and do as you're told.”

“I won’t let you do this!”

“And I don’t need your permission-“

“What about grandma? You’re just going to leave her like this?”

“I wasn’t aware Kahn Montrello had grandchildren?” Keyes quipped. 

You could see your grandfather open his mouth to reply and you made sure to cut him off before he could say another lie. 

“That’s because he doesn’t because Kahn -“

“Apologies, Captain Keyes,” Kahn cut in. “This girl is unwell. Ever since she lost her parents -“

“Don’t you dare speak about them.“

“-she’s been desperately trying to cling to anyone willing to call her family.”

You weren’t aware you were moving forward until you heard the shouts from the marines; the gasps of fear from your own people. You were vaguely aware of the tingle of heat that moved like a shockwave from your fingertips up your arms until it consumed you. In another time, a different life, maybe you would’ve been aware that your biotics had flared to life and enveloped you in what looked like cobalt flame. 

A fitting image for the one Kahn so lovingly painted for you. An unhinged woman filled with crazy fantasies and a desperation for family.

The only thing you could focus on was Kahn who stood before you. The coward who easily was willing to give your grandfather up to the UNSC knowing what they do to insurrectionist leaders. The unspeakable torture done to collect secrets, and their executions televised on every available feed for all to see. 

With the thought of your grandfather’s future weighing behind your eyes you lashed out. Your hand rising forward to catch Kahn midway in taking a step back. Your biotics held him suspended in the air. You were vaguely aware of what sounded like your grandfather calling your name. The wood of his cane crunching through dirt and leaves to rush to you. 

There was more shouting - orders being relayed and metal clicks of safeties being released - and you knew chaos was about to ensue. 

“Spartan’s your orders are to grab the insurrectionist known as Kahn Montrello. Marines focus on providing backup and subduing any and all threats.”

A wash of relief rippled through you. The UNSC had come to their senses. They  must have realized Kahn for the liar he was. Captain Keyes caught on that the rouse Kahn created with your grandfather was all a lie. 

Except that wasn’t what happened. 

The marines who fanned out around the clearing were now moving in towards one sole target: you. The Spartans who Keyes sent forward to capture Kahn weren’t headed in your direction, but towards your grandfather who was visibly shaking as he watched two of the UNSC’s giants - their most powerful weapons - move towards him. 

“No! You have it all wrong! He isn’t Kahn!”

You released the hold you had on Kahn. No longer was he held suspended in the air as you sent his body flying towards the marines. Your feet were digging into the soil, pitching you forward in a hard sprint, as you barreled blindly towards your grandfather. You could hear him warning you to stay back - ‘stay away’ - but you never were good with doing what you were told. 

The closest Spartan,only identified by the numbers 028 on her chest, was almost on him. They were so close it would only take a couple more inches and this Spartan would grab a hold of him and you would lose him. Forever.

You were running on pure adrenaline. Your vision honed in on nothing else but the hand of the Spartan that reached out to grab at his arm. If they got a hold of him, that was it. You called on every cell of energy in your body, your arm drawing back - nerves frying - as the eezo inside your body compacted in the space around you, changing it into a powerful ball that you launched with a scream. The Spartan barely had time to react when the cobalt sphere of element zero slammed into her suit and sent her flying back. 

“Riz!”

You had a split second to make half a shield before the second Spartan’s fist slammed against it. The impact snapped like a shockwave of its own. The force of impact sent your feet sliding back against the dirt. The sound of heavy footsteps following your rolling body forced you to spring to your knees as you called on another surge of element zero and sent it flying like a fastball. 

It slammed into the Spartan but, unlike the first one, it barely slowed them down. The impact crackled against the air and the force field around his armor allowing your biotics to push them back only a few feet. It was all the feet you needed to scramble on all fours to your grandfather, who was kneeling in a heap in the dirt. 

As soon as you slide in next to him, you put up a small force field - a bubble of blue that encapsulated you both just in time before bullets bounced against the shield. Gently, you secured an arm underneath his shoulders and tried to lift him up to you. All while your right hand stayed pressed against the barrier you’d created. Your arms shaking with the strain of holding back another round of gunfire and the slamming fists of a very big, very angry, Spartan. 

You were running out of time. The strain of keeping the barrier up, of using powers you usually never touched, left a noticeable trail of perspiration to crown your forehead. If you kept this up much longer, you knew the nosebleeds would start soon. 

“Come on grandpa. We have to get up now. We gotta get you out of here.”

“Just let them take me, deheyah*.”

A heavy wave of memory, weighted with emotions thick and stifling, threatened to knock you off balance. The last time your grandfather had ever called you that, was before your parents died. When you were allowed the luxury of childhood innocence and the imagination that the world held the beauty of magic before it was destroyed by the gravity of reality. 

“That’s not going to happen, grandpa. I won’t let it happen. I can’t lose you too.”

Your body jerked with the next slam of a fist against the barrier. The impact sent a shutter down into the marrow of your bones and snapped at your nervous system. The pain was immediate and tore a gasp from you. 

“You will never lose me. I will always be with you. Wherever you go. Whatever you choose to be.”

“No.” 

You shook your head violently forcing him to reach out to steady you. The soft leather of his hand cupped your cheek quieting your protests and forced you to keep your eyes on him. 

“I’m sorry for what I said. Earlier. I just - I just wanted what was best for you. I always have. But…only you know what is best for your life. Never stop fighting. Don’t be afraid of who you can be.”

“Why are you talking like this? This isn’t goodbye grandpa. Come on, I have to get you back to grandma. She’s going to be pissed if you just stay here.”

But it was, wasn’t it? You’d felt it when your hands touched the layers of shawls that draped over his chest. It was wetter than it should’ve been. His eyes glassy and unfocused and struggling to keep them on you while he spoke. Somehow, you’d been a few moments too late when the bullets came your way, and those few seconds allowed the hollow point of a bullet to find a hole in the center of his chest. 

Blood covered your left hand as another sharp synopsis of pain resonated through your nervous system. Spartan 028, Riz, was back up and hammering away at the sphere of the barrier you’d created. The pain should’ve been unbearable but nothing compared to the last gasp of air that shuddered from your grandfather. It couldn’t compare to the feeling of his body, lifeless, and sagging towards the earth where the weight forced you to place him. 

None of this would’ve happened if Kahn wasn’t a coward. If he didn’t use people, the very people he claimed were his. People he swore to defend and liberate - for his own gain. 

The anger swelled brighter inside like a raging flame. Every beating your nervous system took holding up the barrier became a dulled sensation as you struggled to breathe around the loss of your grandfather. 

The Spartans had stopped but didn’t move back. A woman was off to your right. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Smiling like she was friendly but the mock kindness didn’t reach her eyes. They were bright with excitement; the way hunters spotted prey. A scientist finding a new object to dissect. 

“…I’m Doctor Halsey.”

Of course she was. She wanted to dissect you. The same way the scientists from Conatix tried many years ago by trying to buy you from your parents. She was saying your name but she had no right to it. 

This Dr. Halsey. 

False smile given under false pretenses. Just like Kahn has his fancy glittering speeches that kept hopes high and results low. 

“We don’t want to harm you. If you are willing to come peacefully we promise we will leave the colony immediately. No further bloodshed needs to happen.”

The part of you that wasn’t soaked in grief agreed. It was the best call to make - the right call. It promised no more suffering would happen. It meant your grandmother would be safe. 

Your grandmother. A woman who lost her son. Her husband. Now her granddaughter. Who would watch her if you left? The thought alone sprang a sharp refusal to your tongue until you stood, your eyes cast down at the warm body of your grandfather. In that moment, whatever reasonable human being you used to be ceased to exist. The only thing left was rage. 

Dr. Halsey must have noticed. No longer was she crouched to be eye level with you. She returned to her full height. Her hands placed out in front to shield herself, as if that would be enough to stop what happened next. 

“Whatever you’re thinking - don’t.” 

Your reply came in a scream that crawled its way from the pit of despair that had lodged itself inside your heart. The loss of your parents, the death of your grandfather,  and for your grandmother who would be alone. You used that hurt, bitterness, and rage and used it to erupt your shield into a burst of biotic energy that detonated like a bomb. The sheer force alone sent the Spartans back. 

It wasn’t enough but you only needed a minute or two. Just enough time for you to send your biotics crackling along the air in a line until it grabbed a hold of Kahn and pulled him like a slingshot of force back towards you. When he was close enough, you dropped your left hand that you’d use to control the pull of his body, and cocked back your right arm, your palm open, and launched it forward. The slam of the biotics hit home at the center of his chest launching Kahn back through the scrambling crowd of people, with the sickening crack of his sternum mixing with the scream that tore from your throat.

It was all the time you had before the Spartan marked with 117 came into view. His armored fist closes in like a warthog at full speed against your cheek, sending your body spiraling into the dirt. You could feel the earth shift with tremors as he moved to follow you. You could taste the blood from the hit and wondered if your jaw was broken. If you just lost a whole row of teeth. 

“John, Incapacitate her only! I need her to be brought back with us. Alive.”

For a glorious moment, your blurred vision swirled only with the uninterrupted view of the sky before the cameo green of Master Chief, savior of the galaxy - or John - 117 -  helmet came into view. A joke was brewing on the back of your tongue, covered in humor and blood before his fist came crashing down your line of sight, and the world became blissfully quiet.

_________

You found that the darkness wasn’t as quiet as you’d hoped.

The impact from the punch the Maater Chief, or John - 117 as that woman called him,  had launched you into what felt like a nightmare. Held hostage by a paralysis of your own mind. Unable to change the forms of what you saw. The images were vivid. The sounds carried a weight that sat heavy like lead in your skull. It made you miss the pain of being conscious. 

You weren’t sure if the screams that bounced around inside your head were real or if they were just a part of the nightmare. Over and over your broken mind played out the moment a Marine’s bullet found a hole inside  your grandfather's gut. 

No matter how fast you ran, if you launched yourself in front of him, you were never fast enough. Each step you took sunk deeper into the earth as if your legs were trying to race through quicksand. Your own biotics mysteriously grew quiet - refusing to work for the first time in your life. 

No matter what the outcome never changed. Your grandfather was gone, and there was no time travel to head back and change that startling fact. 

A sickening lurch, one you knew meant a ship was coming out of slipspace, sent the contents of that morning’s breakfast swirling in your stomach. You barely had time to register that it was real, the nausea, and that you were really about to throw up. You’d barely rolled to your side before said breakfast displayed itself onto a very shiny metal floor. 

As soon as you finished, you rolled back onto your back. Your eyes fluttered open to take in the fluorescent lights, the cool slated metal ceiling that matched the walls and floor. It was definitely a cell, and you most definitely found out much too late that your wrists were tied behind your back. 

When you were sure you weren’t going to upend anymore of your breakfast, you slowly began to maneuver to sit on the only bench they’d laid you on. The pain in the sockets of your shoulders informing you that you’d been like this for quite a while. 

You were still trying to gather your bearings when the sliding doors to your right opened. A woman with blonde hair stood at the forefront with a Spartan, the dusk green armor of John - 117, standing protectively behind her. When she moved, he moved. You couldn’t help but consider her a puppeteer and the Spartan the puppet. He didn’t move unless she did and you doubted he would be doing any of the talking. 

She entered the room with a cautionary smile and clinical eyes assessing you before she even entered. It was easy to tell she was a scientist and, more than likely, a very experienced one in whatever it was she specialized in. 

“Hello, Subject Cobalt,” she said brightly. Her smile never faltered once. “I’m glad to see that you are alright. My name is Doctor Halsey. I’ve come to do an assessment on you and make sure you didn’t sustain any life-threatening or mind altering issues after what happened back on Laconix.”

Subject Cobalt? 

Was that supposed to be you?

You eyed her warily as she took her first step inside the cell. The heavy footsteps of Mjolnir armor followed closely behind. If she suspected you were jumpy - a rabbit in headlights, as the old ones used to say - Halsey never showed it. 

A few more steps and she was beside the bench. Another breath and she was sitting beside you. The smile on her face beaming and hollowing out her eyes with rapture at what she must have considered a new species. You made a fine new specimen for any scientist, you would imagine. A nervous system full of eezo that lit your body up like an Earthen Christmas tree and the power to wield it like a weapon.

Doctor Halsey was practically giddy beside you. 

“I’m going to do a few simple tests to verify cognitive function isn’t impaired. To do so, I’m going to need your assistance. Do you think you could do that for me?”

Your eyes scanned over her as you considered your options. It turned out to be a very short list that was available to you. The only option being to go along with what she asked. 

“Okay.”

That one word was all the go ahead Halsey needed to cause her megawatt smile to go up a notch. She must have thought you would be resistant to following orders and she wasn’t wrong but, from where you were sitting, this seemed like the lesser of two evils. 

“Splendid. First, I’m going to run this pen horizontally and vertically. I need you to focus on the tip of the pen, and follow it as closely as you can.”

“Okay.”

Doctor Halsey lifted the pen up to eye level, a few inches away from your face, and waited for your eyes to train on the silver point. You hadn’t expected an examination as soon as you woke up. You weren’t sure if you should’ve felt happy or worried about it. If you were one misstep away from becoming a lab rat. 

You’d been so deep in thought - your mind considering all the outcomes and possibilities of this interaction ending well - that you completely missed her first question. 

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

Another smile. Another deflection. It was enough, however, for you to notice the tightness in the fine lines of her face. It was so small you could’ve missed it. 

“Of course. During your biotic episode on Laconix, I noticed your nose started bleeding. Does it do that every time you use your biotics?”

“No.”

The tightness again. This time it was the edges of her smile - suspended in that mock sweetness - that reminded you of your mother. Waiting for you to give more detail without prodding and realizing, rapidly, you feared incriminating yourself. The pen dropped into her lap. Her eyes roaming over your face for a sign - a tell - that she could exploit. 

“You aren’t in any kind of trouble. I’m merely trying to help you -“

“Is that what you’re trying here, Dr. Halsey? To be my friend? To tell me I’m not in any danger when you took me off my planet against my will?” You inquired. Her mouth was still suspended open, forming around a word cut short by your desire to not hear anymore bullshit. “It feels like there is more going on than what you’re sharing.”

She schooled her face - even her eyes - to remain emotionless. A perfect blank slate to display only what she wanted without giving away what she didn’t. 

“Alright. I watched you. At first, you seemed in control, but after the third or fourth time your biotics displayed themselves, and you overextended their use, you suffered an epistaxis - the nosebleed. Further scans done here in the ship’s medical bay presented signs of swelling and hematoma on the brain. A few hours before you woke up, I had them run another analysis and both are gone. Which leaves me to believe it only occurs upon exhaustion.”

She watched you as she spoke. Her gaze searching, prodding, for signs of whatever reaction she expected but wasn’t getting. You would’ve loved to offer up whatever it was she wanted, if only you knew which specific one she was hunting for. 

“Tell me. Do you get migraines?”

“What is this?”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s a lie,” you shot back. 

The tone in your voice matched the anxiety rising in your chest. It caused your words to be rougher than intended, alerting the Spartan in the corner who took a step towards you. Only the rising hand of calm - control - from Dr. Halsey kept him from taking another step. 

“I think you understand more than you’re willing to tell me or, at least, not wanting to show your whole hand, anyway. You’re a scientist, right? Probably super smart. Smart enough you probably come from some UNSC lab  from Reach or Illium?”

“Reach.”

The carefully constructed smile was back on her lips, but this time you could see a spark of something brighten up the soft blue of her eyes. You were doing something she didn’t expect, but her scientific mind found it fascinating. No doubt logging it away to draw it open later somewhere quiet to dissect. 

Your lips pouted around her admission. Reach. One of the top three planets, if not the first, for all private and commercial research filled with legal litigation and NDA’s to protect organizations and UNSC labs from the courts of public opinions. It was how Conatix got away with doing what they did to you and the other kids scattered across the galaxy. Only taking notice when it seemed like something that could benefit them. You weren’t stupid. Halsey had taken one look at what you could do - what you did - and only two things came to mind: control or destroy. 

You hadn’t figured out exactly which one you were to Dr. Halsey yet. 

“Are you going to kill me?”

Halsey didn’t necessarily give you a reason to think it was an outlandish guess. Everything - everyone - was expendable when it came to science and the betterment of humanity. Or whatever the UNSC’s science team's new slogan was.

“Why would we kill you?”

You tried to shrug off the growing anxiety that sat coiling inside your gut.

“To experiment on me. Take me apart and see what’s buried underneath, so to speak. Isn’t that what you people do.”

“You don’t realize what you are, do you? The advancement of human genetics - biology - that is flowing through you.”

“What’s flowing through me is eezo and it cost hundreds of children their lives.”

“Yes, but for one out of a hundred children there is something remarkable. You. The one out of a thousand. A stepping stone towards humans having a place amongst the vast and ever growing populace of space. I don’t want to kill you, Cobalt. I want to integrate you into my program.”

“What program?”

You wondered if madness was contagious. If you asked anyone else, they might have dismissed your words as too harsh. No doubt calling Halsey’s display of excitement for simply that, but you could see her eyes. Underneath all that perfectly concealed pleasant exterior was an intelligence that was willing to break the norms - rules - to get to whatever she needed. 

“I run the Spartan program. Granted, you are well past the parameters to become a Spartan, no, I…I want to make a subunit. I think Cobalt, we can help each other, and not only help each other, but possibly end this war.”

UNSC propaganda. 

That’s what the war was. Everyone in the outer colonies knew it was just a fancy attempt to stop the growing surge of colonists from joining the insurrectionists. Halsey sensed your doubt before you disregarded her words with a shake of your head. 

“No. The covenant is just a UNSC nightmare story to try and get the outer colonies to toe the line. To allow themselves to be governed under your jurisdiction.”

“I can promise you. It’s not.”

“Of course you would say that! You’re a USNC scientist for Christ’s sake!”

“John.”

Somehow, you’d forgotten that big hunk of tin was in the room. Halsey kept you focused on her - solely on her - that when the Spartan took a step forward, the reflection of the room mirrored in his visor, you almost jumped out of your skin. 

In his hand was a holopad that he deposited into her waiting palm. Halsey didn’t waste time logging in. Her fingers tapped wildly across the screen with a speed that left you dizzy. When she found whatever it was she’d been looking for she extended the holopad out for you to take. 

“This was transmitted to us only a few hours ago.”

Warily, you watched her. Your mind debating if you should take the holopad or tell her to fuck off. It was more made up videos or fancy speeches, you were sure of it. The grim lines of her face, however, left you wondering just how certain you were. It was her turn to place the holopad in your hands. Your gaze on her a few more seconds before it dropped down to the video that played on the screen.

Bright beams. It’s what you noticed first. Beams that erupted from the sky with such brilliant clarity you knew it could only be one form: plasma. You couldn’t understand - comprehend - what you were seeing. 

Plasma on that scale was impossible. It should’ve been and yet, you watched as it sliced through the planet's barrier, through molecules, and simple things like trees and mountains. Everything it touched turned red hot like lava from volcanoes you’d heard stories about that were on the original human planet of earth. While the plasma beam continued its destructive course, the magma it left behind flowed behind. 

You didn’t understand until you did. 

You knew that mountain. You’d glanced at it many times on walks to neighboring villages for trade. Attempted to climb it a thousand times as a child. 

“What is this?”

Your disbelief was met with something you couldn’t place from her. Halsey didn’t offer up sympathy. She offered up an understanding of watching everything you love disappear in a wave of destruction. But how could she understand the hollowness, the sinking feeling of dread that gripped your heart and threatened to make it stop?

“It’s Laconix. Shortly after we left the Covenant arrived. They glassed the planet.”

“Glassed? I - I don’t. I don’t understand.”

You were going to hyperventilate if you weren’t careful. 

“It’s gone, Cobalt.” That’s not my name. “The Covenant doesn’t take prisoners. They destroy everything. Kill everything. Your planet is gone.” 

Gone. 

Gone. 

Your home. What was left of your family - your people - your community. Gone. In less than 7.8 seconds of holopad footage. 

“But you can avenge them. You can fight for them and to protect every other planet still left out there in the galaxy and I can help you do it.”

Deep down a part of you knew this had been her tactic all along. If reason didn’t make someone join your cause, then using their emotions against them would. You should’ve seen it coming. Took the time to ask more questions but the growing hole in your soul moved on from shock and grief was rocketing towards unbridled rage at lightning speed. 

When you glanced back up at her, Halsey knew she had you before you even spoke. 

“What do you need me to do?”

As always, thank you so much for reading. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Subsequent to the events you have just witnessed...

ACT 1

@boots-with-the-fur-club @daboyau @tmntaucompetition @littlemissartemisia @shiveagit @shiveagit-arts @thevoidbrothers @noval1t @kathaynesart @bluepeachstudios @amevello-blue

CW: panic attacks, minor injuries, mushroom zombies, slight body horror

Prev || Next

Names and abbreviations (sorry there's a lot, we have a big cast for today's performances!) : UIFY = Until I Found You NFIF = No Fun in Fungus Leon = UIFY Leonardo 'Phael = UIFY Raphael DvD / Don = UIFY Donatello Mike/Mikey/Micheal = UIFY Michelangelo AudRaph = Swayed Raphael AudreyTello = Swayed Donatello LeonAudro = Swayed Leonardo MichelAudrelo = Swayed Michelangelo AudRai = Swayed Karai rhg!Donnie = Rise Hunger Games AU Donatello Raph = NFIF Raphael Donnie/Dee = NFIF Donatello Leo = NFIF Leonardo Angie/Angelo = NFIF Michelangelo

On with the show...

Their plan to infiltrate the competition was just way too easy. No one had seen them sneak in. No one had suspected them.

Slider-punk had even been able to disguise himself as one of the employees and hacked into the main system! His associates were outside, Spider-Dee and Spider-Gal working as employees as while Spider-Shine had gone off on his own to open a pop-up therapy stand. Business was booming, apparently. Slider-Punk was no better, he'd abandoned the real mission for a little side mission of his own, to see just how much trouble he could get himself into. He'd allowed a disembodied hand to play some Broadway showtunes over the speaker system earlier.... but the hand had disappeared shortly after, leaving Slider-Punk alone again. It was odds-bodkins, but no stranger than anything else he'd seen in this place. Anyways, what should he do next? There was so much he could do! He could practically do whatever he wanted, now...

Before he could decide, an alert showed up on the computer. Someone was trying to hack in?

Well, no joke, Sherlock! HE had ALREADY--

A line of code showed up on the screen.

Up, up, down, down, left, right, 'A'.

The computer glitched. The screen turned purple. Then blue. Slider-Punk tried rebooting. A small icon of a purple-clad ninja turtle wagging his finger and saying "Nuh-uh-uh!" popped up. Donnie. Of course. A Donnie was trying to hack in. And it didn't seem like they cared if anybody knew... which meant they were making a statement, and didn't plan on sharing their hard-earned goods.

Slider-Punk's spider sense began to tingle. He felt anxious and uneasy. His senses drew his attention away from the computer, and up to... the air vents?

Uh oh.

He immediately dashed out of the room, abandoning his bowtie and went in search of his mates -- Spider-Dee, Spider-Shine, and Spider-Gal. They would have sensed the danger as well, they needed to get to safety, see if they could protect anyone -- something bad was about to happen.

Misa struggled against Ra-Ra's tight grip on her. He was careful not to hurt her, but she still hated it. She screamed and shrieked and howled in furious anger at him, demanding that he release her.

"I'm so sorry, Misa," he wept, cradling her as he approached his prison. "But it has to be this way."

"NO! No, Ra-Ra, let go! Let go o' Misa!! Pwease, Ra-Ra!!!"

Raphael sniffled as he hugged her. He hated doing this. But... he had no choice. She was too dangerous. She knew too much, and knew too many competitors. She might have been small, but the leeway she held with everyone made her possibly the most powerful turtle mutant in this entire competition. With as many connections as she had, she could raise up an entire army against them. Raphael sighed sadly... there was no other option.

As he approached the door, Raphael saw four turtles waiting for him. The Void brothers.

"Move," he growled at them.

"I don't see why we should listen to you!" Signal hissed, Static and Waves doing their best to keep him in his "safe" form, rather than his "absolutely enraged eldritch horror" form.

"Just let me back into the room, and no one will be hurt," Raphael promised.

"And do you plan on taking the kid with you?" Radio growled back at him.

Misa whined, reaching for Waves to come and take her away. Raphael pulled her arms back down.

"Yes."

"N̴̳̆Ó̵ͅ," Signal growled, his face contorting and blackening like tar. "IÌ̵̟ ̴̯̃D̶͚͝O̶̓͜N̶̞̕'̶̹͑T̷͉̋ ̸̫̏T̸̟̅H̶͓͊Í̵̟N̷͈̾K̵͈̄ ̴̲̇Ÿ̵́͜O̴̘̓U̸̠͌'̵̯͑L̶̟̈́L̸͚̈́ ̵̯̓B̷̭̽E̵͉͘ ̷̪̚G̴̼̈Ọ̶̑I̵̭͛Ṇ̵̎G̶̛̘ ̴͖͒Ạ̶͊Ǹ̸̹Ÿ̷͙W̴͎͝H̵̯̚E̷͇̍R̵͔͛Ȩ̴̓.̴͋"

Signal reached out, his arm elongating with a horrid schlurp sound as he went for Misa.

Raph created a hologram over himself, his usually red ninpo having turned that wretched shade of blue. Misa gasped in fear, the warmth she typically felt from such a magic was bone-chillingly cold.

"D̶̒ͅȌ̵͉ ̶̣̓Y̶̛̹O̸̪̍Ų̷̇ ̵͔̀Ĥ̶͙O̴̝͑N̴̢͘Ẹ̷͘Ș̵̕T̶̫̏L̵̻͋Ỵ̶̌ ̵̭̌Ţ̶̔H̷̨̐I̵̾ͅN̴̫͛K̴͕͠ ̵͔̎T̶̢̿H̵̭̽A̶͕̐Ṫ̵̬ ̶̢͝W̷͔̌I̷̞̒L̴̟̃L̴͓̉ ̸̯̓Ŝ̴̫T̵̩̎Ö̷͕́P̸̙̈ ̵̢̌M̸̨͌Ĕ̷͙?̴̩̊!̸̡͗" Signal screeched, laughing hysterically at the boy's attempts to fend him off.

Signal started ripping apart the holographic figure, only to discover that it had been a clone -- even the Misa in his hold was a duplicate, who shed a single tear as she dissolved.

The four heads turned back to see Raphael about to enter the room behind them. Waves screeched, flying at him with barred teeth and sharpened claws, his mystic powers creating an ebony black chain-whip within his hands.

Misa was off-limits.

Raphael opened the door. A flood of spores engulfed him, Misa, and Waves, who screamed in anger and fear as the spores filled him up, hollow as he was. He coughed and hacked and howled, holding his head in pain as he reeled backwards.

"WAVES!!" Static shouted, rushing forwards and grabbing his brother, holding him down.

Signal roared at Raph, eyes turning fully black and body disfiguring into a monster. Even Radio wouldn't dare hold him back after what that punk just did to Waves.

Raphael whimpered sadly as tears streaked down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," he wept. "I had to."

Raphael closed the door behind him, taking Misa into the dark room.

Misa pressed her hands over her mouth and nose, trying desperately to keep the spores out.

It was so cold... it was practically freezing.

Misa's eyes didn't need to adjust to the darkness, she found that as soon as the exterior light was gone, the room provided its own light... neon blue, emanating from the many eyes and mushrooms in the enclosed space. It was so absolutely terrifying, every gaze fixated on her and burning blue. Misa did her best to keep her whimpers to herself.

"Don't try to fight it," Raph begged her, as he gently laid her down in a bed of toadstools and moss. "Just... just let it happen, okay? I know it will be scary, but once you give in to the fear, it's just like sleepwalking. You won't even know it's happened, at first. I promised you would be safe, and you will be... you must simply let go, and let the fear take over."

Small vines and roots began to wrap over her, closing in like a tiny cage, keeping her from running away.

Her eyes watered as the air around her closed in. She couldn't keep holding her breath like this! Her hands shook, her chest hurt, the carbon dioxide in her lungs was getting hot and stale.

Misa gasped.

The fungus-riddled air infected her lungs, she coughed and hacked at how chilled the oxygen was in her ribs. She screamed in protest, curling up inside of herself, ready for the birds to come and scratch her shell, peck at her eyes, grab her with their claws and talons and carry her away...

Nothing happened.

Misa looked up, slowly.

She... she was in the labs?

There was a heavy weight chafing her neck, causing irritation on the sensitive skin. She lifted her hand up and felt cold metal.

The linoleum room she was being held in had a glass wall, through which she could see everyone.

EVERYONE.

Mikey, Ra-Ra, Dee-Dee, Lee-Lee, that one robotic-looking Dee that had congratulated her on stealing the moneys, the ballerina Donnie she'd gotten the Lake Water for, all the grow-ed Leos with missing arms, Poptart and Sprout, cowboy versions and bunnies and dragons and beetles and --

EVERYONE.

Claire and Draxum -- the orchestrators of this whole terrible captivity -- walked through the halls, talking to each other and even laughing together. Draxum's vines were dragging a Mikey behind him carelessly, the body scraping across the floor. He was still alive, she could see him struggling against his captors and she could hear him crying. Claire turned to look at Misa as she passed by her cell.

"Oh, hello little thing! Before I forget, I wanted to thank you for leading me to all these funny friends of yours! Now they can all suffer the same fate as you..."

"No! NO! NO NO NO NONONONO--"

Misa sobbed, began slamming her tiny fists against the glass, begging Claire to release all her friends and families. Claire only chortled like a Disney villain, walking away with Draxum and dragging the poor Mikey along with them. Misa would not stop, she'd never stop fighting against this!! SHE WOULD NOT GIVE IN TO THE FEAR! She continued to pound her fists against the glass, screaming angrily at the hallucination that kept her prisoner.

"...Are you sure she won't suffer?" AudRaph asked, his hands wringing.

"Not unless she fights against the fear," AudreyTello answered flatly as he began to type on his wrist tech, starting the hack to contaminate the entire arena.

"She is still young, I suspect she won't know how to fight against it," AudRai added, as she walked over to the little prisoner to inspect her as she sobbed uncontrollably in her cell. "It shouldn't be much longer now."

"It doesn't matter much either way," MichelAudrelo interjected angrily as he examined the new scars on his arms. "If she gives in, she becomes one of us. If not... we can feed off her fear." He looked over at the last Hamato in the room, still held in place against the wall, eyes drowsily watching the rest as they spoke.

"Like him."

"He is one of us," AudreyTello corrected. "But he was the first, so he had to make the sacrifice and give the necessary nutrients for our true form."

"I sense apprehension from Raphael's form," MichelAudrelo noted, scowling. "You do not approve of our survival?"

"...Raphael does not want his brother to die," AudRaph explained. "He would rather they all stay alive. It is his weakness..."

"Unfortunately, to be as strong as we are now -- and to produce as many spores as we have -- we need a physical form to feed off of. So Leonardo stays where he is," AudreyTello explained. "You know this. Choke down that pathetic worm and don't let him speak again. It's irritating."

"He has some immunity, or tolerance to invading hive minds. You recall from his memories, he has dealt with it before."

"Ah, yes. Well, even he cannot stop us soon enough," AudreyTello said with a chuckle. "Karai, Michelangelo, you know what to do now."

The two zombies nodded, and together created an enormous flow of spores. AudreyTello typed in a final command on his wrist tech, and the air vents promptly popped open. The spores filled the ventilation system.

"Now, for a little announcement..."

Ghost had unofficially adopted two more kids. Abby, a cat mutant, with her big and bright personality, though her figure was small. She'd gotten injured during the preliminaries -- apparently she'd attempted some kind of extravagant musical number -- and had to use a crutch to hobble around for the past several weeks while it healed up. She'd only just recently been released from the med ward, along with her friend and protector Diana, the second adoptee. The two girls were laughing and making quite the ruckus as they danced around Ghost's cape.

"Are you sure you wouldn't like me to carry you?" Ghost asked, fretting over her injury.

"I'm fine!" Abby laughed, waving her hand as a dismissal. "I've been used to this for a while. No worries!"

"Besides --" Diana added, "-- she needs the exercise if she wants to get rid of the crutch as soon as possible--"

Diana was cut short by a sudden burst of light and a loud roaring whoosh. A wind picked up, and a spark ignited behind them as a portal opened.

rhg!Donnie wanted to hold his father close. He hated, absolutely despised how the other competitors are holding his attention. He, more than anything, he wanted to run over to where his father was and hold him close, sob into his chest like when he was so much younger and so much more naive and so much more innocent. He wanted to talk for hours, ask how Raph is, how Leo is doing, if Mikey is okay. He wanted to say absolutely nothing and just sit in his company. He couldn't decide what to do first, and it utterly galled him how open he was with everyone, how chummy they all were with him. How dare Cassandra hug him like that. How dare Kendra pretend to be cordial. It might have been selfish, but he wanted his Papa all to himself. He tried to get as close to dear Papa as he could without making it obvious. The last thing he needed was everyone thinking he was childish. But Atomo Grey opened the doors to the elevators and made a stupid joke about how "the District Twelve tributes will get to their apartment before we can even set foot into ours!" which only got one laugh from the escort as he ushered the competitors into the lift. rhg!Donatello slowly entered the elevator as the doors closed behind him...

The lights flickered, the people in the lift start to vanish one by one, thunder and wind ripped through the box and caused a horrible feeling of claustrophobia in rhg!Dee. rhg!Donatello nervously backed up against the wall, confused and scared. Was this a trick from the Capitol? Or the Gamemakers?? He wanted to shout for his Papa, shout for anyone, but the elevator was empty now and the lights had all gone out. A multicoloured portal opened at his feet, and rhg!Donnie was sucked in, shouting his protest.

rhg!Donnie landed on the floor for the second time this night. But rather than being pancaked by Cassandra Jones, he slid on his stomach and arrived at the feet of three odd strangers. A giant turtle mutt, a cat mutt, and a regular human girl.

"...Well, that was out of the blue..."

rhg!Donnie slowly backed away from the characters, taking in the strange scene around him. He needed to get back, he has to get back, if they find out he'd been portalled away or something then they'll punish his family --

Wait, he knew this place...

He's... back at the AU competition? The one with all the strange turtles and different versions of his brothers...?

But... he was sent back home... why was he here now?

The large middle-aged turtle mutant kneeled down next to him, his joints popping as he did. He inspected the teen, analyzing every little scratch and every major scar with worry. His silent inquisitiveness was starting to annoy him.

"Who are you?" rhg!Dee asked, passing paranoid glances between the trio before him.

"I'm Abby," said the cat, smiling as she offered him her hand to help him up. "This is Diana, my bff, and the big guy is called 'Ghost'! But I'm pretty sure he's a Donatello, hence the purple mask..."

Abby gestured to the tall turtle mutt mutant. He smiled, his white eyes hiding years of trauma and loneliness. rhg!Donnie recognized that loneliness. He'd seen it in his father's eyes. He's seen it in his own reflection.

"Hey there, kid," the 'Ghost' said, his voice low yet overpowering. "Are you alright?"

"I... how did I get here?"

"No clue, but -- wait, I recognize you!" Diana said suddenly. "You were part of the preliminaries, right? The Rise Hunger Games AU!"

"Y-yes, that's me," rhg!Donnie mumbled, shooing away Abby's hands as he stood up by himself.

"We were in the prelims, too!" Diana noted, pointing to herself and then Abby.

"Great. Congratulations."

"We didn't win our round, though..."

"How unfortunate for you," rhg!Donnie sighed as he looked around, getting his bearings. Something about this place seemed off... different now. Something had changed. There was fear amongst these halls, now... an unspoken chill in the air.

"I didn't win, either -- wait... I was sent back because I lost the preliminary round... so, why...?"

"Why weren't we sent back?" Abby finished. "Or... why were you returned?"

rhg!Donnie looked around anxiously.

"I don't know if it's mandatory to leave the contest once you lose a round," Ghost interjected. "But perhaps the Mods sent you home so you could get back to the contest without -- oh, you've got something on your head..."

rhg!Donnie started smacking the top of his head frantically, worried that it might be something dangerous sent by the Gamemakers. Mutated hornets, or a tracking device that would explode if he strayed too far....

Instead, a small note floated off of his cranium and landed at his feet. Somewhat embarrassed by his reaction, rhg!Donnie leaned down and inspected the note with caution.

𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔! 𝚆𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙…

"What does that mean?" Abby asked as she read over rgh!Dee's shoulder.

"I'm... I'm not sure... who wrote this, who needs my help...? And what could I possibly have to do with --"

"Wait, did you hear that?" Ghost interrupted, having caught the echo of a garbled glitching noise from the speakers.

The lights suddenly shut off, as hundreds of unprepared contestants and supporters started yelling in a panic.

A tinny voice echoed over the intercom speakers.

"Hello everyone in the competition! It’s your new overlord, Audrey III!"

"That's Donnie's voice," Abbey noted nervously.

"But which Donnie?" Diana asked. "I don't know any Donatellos who go by the name Audrey III..."

"Well, obviously it isn't me or the big guy," Donatello noted, gesturing to Ghost. "But I don't like this --"

"Shh, kids, listen...!"

Ghost could hear a slight hissing sound. He wasn't sure where in the area it was coming from. It sounded like a gas leak, air slowly spilling into the room. It had to be from the vents. Where was the closest vent?? He searched the halls, and found one not too far away. A small cloud of electric blue was pouring out.

Without hesitation, Ghost grabbed the kids and started running.

"EVERYONE, CLEAR THE HALLS! THERE'S A GAS LEAK!"

People began screaming as they all ran in different directions, trying to get away.

“Don’t resist," the Donatello on the intercom said. "Or do, your fear is tastier that way.”

"WHAT THE HECK DOES THAT MEAN, OUR FEAR IS TASTIER?!" Diana shrieked. "WHAT IS GOING ON??"

"Do you see a fire alarm anywhere?" Ghost yelled over the panicked mob around them.

"Over there!" rhg!Donnie shouted, pointing to a small glass box on the wall ahead of them, a fire extinguisher by its side.

Ghost rushed over, pulled the alarm, and grabbed the extinguisher.

"What exactly do you expect to do with a fire extinguisher?!" rhg!Donatello shouted, finally wrestling himself free from the old man's hold.

Ghost wasn't sure, there weren’t any fires -- yet. But years of experience taught him to always be prepared.

He most certainly was not prepared for what happened next.

The vent covers were blown right off their panels, slamming into the walls across, or in some cases, a few contestants. Abby screamed in fright as she ducked, Diana ducking over her as well to shield her, and Ghost shielding the three teens together. Blue fog filled the halls, slowly covering the floors. A few contestants starting coughing and choking. Then the sobs. The screams. The weeping and wailing.

rhg!Donatello didn't know what was going on, but he could guess. The smoke must be drugged, he thought to himself, staring at the oddly coloured gas that started to cover the floors. Was this... was this the Capitol’s doing? Had they discovered his previous absence and this was their attempt to punish him? To capture this new dimension or realm or world or whatever it was, and use it for their Hunger Games?? But how?! How could they have followed him? He was portalled here alone, twice now, and when he was returned there had been no time passed in his world and no change in his appearance, so they could never have known... This must be something else.

Ghost lifted the girls up onto his shoulders before they could inhale the hallucinogen and began to run again, grabbing rhg!Donatello by the hand and dragging him along, effectively snapping him out of his shock.

A father who had been shielding his little "SweetPea" from the vent panels was on his hands and knees, gasping for air as his eyes widened and slowly turned blue. His daughter August kept begging him to get up, crying for her Papa. She started coughing, shaking, blue panic filling her eyes as she began to succumb to the gas as well. A Feral Leo had inhaled the gas and was starting to attack his brothers. A pair of finely-dressed Gemini twins were clutching onto each other, shaking violently as they pressed themselves into a corner, watching as the gas closed in on them... rhg!Donatello was horrified by it all. It felt too much like something that the Capital or the Gamemakers would do...

Ghost could see the panic on the teen's face. It was pure terror, pure fear. He was worried that maybe he'd inhaled some of the smoke... But his eyes weren't blue... so he must just be regular scared, not infected by whatever was happening now. Ghost had to find some place that would be safe from the vapour... but where?! What room wouldn't have ventilation??

A television screen on a single rolling stand zipped past him, an electric Donatello voice shouting over the mayhem in the room. A dial tone was playing from its speakers, as if a call had gone to voicemail.

"LEO? MIKEY? APRIL! WHY WON'T ANYONE PICK UP?!"

"Watch out!" Ghost yelled, grabbing the TV by its stand and lifting it up just before it could run over a convulsing body on the ground.

"WHOAH! HEY!! Put me down, I demand that you put me down this instant, this is no way to treat a creation of the great and late Hamato Donatello--!!"

"Oi, mate!" a voice shouted. A door opened, and a brightly-costumed punk-rock turtle with a guitar strapped across his back leaned out quickly. "In here!!"

Ghost flung himself, the kids, and the sentient television into the room as quickly as he could, the door slamming and locking behind them all.

The medical masks worked surprisingly well. They kept out the spores, in any case. DvD had been worried that they wouldn't be strong enough, they should find some gas masks or ventilators. He didn't want to take any chances, but with time running thin they had no choice. The Hand.PNG had assured them that the masks would work for the time being.

They made their way through the halls, DvD using a torch-light feature on his tech-bō and April using her phone to light the way. Mikey stumbled as he tiptoed along with them, tripping and falling to his knees, the blue spores clouding around his head. He froze, terrified that the airborne fungus was going to seep in somehow... through the mask, through his open and untreated wounds... He couldn't move. He wanted to run, he wanted to scream, he wanted to go home. But his limbs didn't listen to him. His head clouded over, his thoughts disappeared.

Fight, flight, freeze or fawn. He froze, vanishing into himself...

DvD stopped at the sound of Mikey's knees hitting the floor, turned around to see if he was alright. Michael had started shaking and whimpering, near-silent terrified chirps escaping from him. He was too weak to walk on his own. 'Phael was busy carrying the TNT, Leon the container of weird ninpo stuff. DvD could manage carrying the weightless teen...

"Micheal?" he whispered, coming over to him and gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

That was a stupid question. Of course he was not okay. The kid had literally died not ten minutes ago, and 15 minutes prior to that he'd used his mystic abilities to the max and run himself dry of all possible energy, as well as reopening his scars and losing a lot of blood as a result. And even before that, he'd given away some of his strength to help aid the swayed NFIF Donatello. Mikey had been run through the ringer, and it had barely been over an hour. It was no wonder he was shaking as much as he was, unable to pick himself back up.

"Would you like me to carry you?" DvD asked, rubbing circles onto his back.

Michael didn't answer, at least not verbally. After a pause he nodded softly, squeezing his eyes shut as the tremors continued. DvD turned around and kneeled in front of him, letting the box turtle slowly climb onto his back and drape his arms over his brother's shoulders. DvD slipped the boy's legs over his hips, making sure he was secure before standing back up.

"All good back there?"

He didn't answer.

"Michael?"

He gently nuzzled his face into DvD's shoulder.

"All good--" he rasped, coughing afterwards.

Right, his throat was raw from screaming and crying.

"Alright then. Let's get going."

DvD continued, catching up quite easily to his family (and the Hand.PNG). They were taking it slow, trying to remain inconspicuous as best as possible. They saw something glowing blue approaching, and the Hand.PNG warned them to get back, slip into a side hall and wait for them to pass.... The group turned off all their lights, watching in horror as a swayed Swanatello sluggishly meandered through the corridor, his face stained with glowing blue tears and his eyes matching the shade. Mikey stifled a gasp. He was horrified viewing first face he'd seen upon entering this whole competition now taken by the spores. He buried his face into DvD's neck and shoulder blades, trying not to cry.

"We may continue," the hand whispered once the zombie was gone.

They continued, searching for a place that would shield them from the zombies and the spores.

DvD passed by a small opening of the arena, an overturned box of cake pops crushed under the feet of panicked rioters and spored contestants. Mikey must've seen it; he gripped DvD's tear-soaked vest as tightly as he could manage. Which wasn't very tight. His fingers trembled and shook, the fabric constantly slipped through his meager grip. DvD could feel Mikey's heartbeat speeding up through his chest, the breaths coming in ragged and shaky as he started to hyperventilate.

"Michael?" DvD whispered. "What's wrong?"

Mikey couldn't answer. He tried, DvD could hear him try. Tiny squeaks and cracks in his voice as he attempted a response. In the end he pressed his face into DvD's neck, hiding his vision from the warzone they were traipsing through.

"Right, can't really talk... here, try this: tap once for yes, twice for no. Are you having a panic attack?"

Mikey tapped DvD's chest once.

Tap.

"I see. Is it... the spores? Did you inhale any?"

Tap. Tap.

"Hm. Is it just... being around them? Being surrounded by the spores?"

Tap.

"I see. I'm sorry. But I won't let anything happen to you, Michael, you can be sure of that. And you can tell me if anything's wrong, you know? I want to be able to help if you see Draxum again--"

Michael's face scrunched up as he leaned over DvD's shoulder to look him in the eye.

"W-what? What did you say?" he squeaked.

"I said -- oh. I said more than I meant to." DvD cleared his throat. "Yes, well... 'Phael might've told us that you'd been having dreams."

Michael's head snapped around to glare at 'Phael, who saw the look and immediately knew what it was for. He slowed his pace and nervously hid behind Leon.

"I'm gonna kill him."

"You can't really blame him for it, you were struggling and we couldn't understand why..."

Mikey sighed sadly, resting his head against DvD's back.

"Y-yeah... I know. S-so, wh-what else did he... say... ab-bout me...?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just that you'd been having visions and recurring nightmares since Karai showed up and that you'd seen everything that happened to you."

"Dang it, 'Phael," Mikey croaked. "I w-wish he'd just -- let ME tell you, y'know? I-I would've l-liked to... tell you myself..."

"I understand. But you should have told us before. I... I would have wanted to know. Even if it hurt me. I'd rather have known you and I could have helped each other, than us both stay hurting on our own..."

"...Wait, what else did 'Phael say?" Mikey asked, knowing exactly what DvD was hinting to.

"He may have mentioned the reasoning behind you keeping your secret..."

Mikey grumbled.

"Okay, now I really am gonna kill him--"

"No you're not," Donnie interjected. "He did what he felt was right."

"I understand... but... why do I have to be so weak and pathetic??" Mikey whined. "Why can't I just... take care o-of m-m-myself? I keep getting hu-hurt and I keep having to rely on everyone to s-s-save me. To protect m-me. I mean, look at me right n-now-w!"

"Physically I can't look at you, since you are on my back...."

DvD wasn't sure why Michael hoarsely chuckled at that. But he was glad the kid could laugh at anything currently.

"...But I understand what you're getting at. You aren't weak, Michael, you're surprisingly strong. To have been through what you've experienced, and to keep your innocence, your joy, your love for everyone, and your trust? That's not an easy feat. Even I can't say that I've retained that sort of strength."

"Emotionally unavailable bad boy..." Mikey joked.

"Exactly. But you aren't weak or pathetic; you've handled so much."

"But... shouldn't I be able to take care of myself? I don't want to keep being a burden to you guys. Is it always going to be like this? Me getting hurt, and you having to carry me home?" Mikey asked softly.

"...I don't know. Hopefully not the former, but I'll always be in favour of the latter."

DvD could feel Mikey smile through his mask, the corners of his mouth turning up as he nuzzled closer to his protective and loving older brother.

"...I'm so tired. I'd fall asleep if I wasn't in a panic-fueled state of adrenaline..."

"I bet. I promise you can sleep for as long as you want once this whole thing is over--"

"Quiet!" Leon snapped. "Someone's coming!!"

The group halted, pressing against the walls in any way they could. April extinguished her light.

"DvD!" she hissed. "Your tech-bō! Get the light off!"

"I'm trying," he hissed back. He was struggling to deactivate it, what with Mikey clinging onto his back and requiring DvD's arms to keep him supported.

A group of zombies approached them. They saw the light... They started running at them.

"Run!" Leon shouted.

The UIFY group darted away, DvD gripping onto Mikey as tightly as he could with one hand, and holding his tech-bō with the other.

"This way, lads!" 'Phael called out, directing them down a side hall that would have lead to an open area for new arrivals.

It lead to doom.

The group froze upon entering the arrival arena. It was swarmed.

"NOT GOOD!" Leon shouted. "Back up, back up, BACK UP!"

An army of swayed zombies started coming at them, each one smiling evilly as they all started chanting together...

"Feed me... feed me.... feed me!"

Mikey shrieked in terror as the zombies closed in on them from both sides.

"We're surrounded!" April yelled over the roar.

"Well, you stupid disembodied hand?!" Leon shouted. "What's your brilliant plan now?!"

"Don't worry," it said, though the quiver in its voice hinted that there was some small reason to worry. "It isn't meant to end this way..."

A shout rang out from above them, followed by two small explosions that cut the zombies off from the group. High up in the rafters, high above the smoke line, a teenage boy watched his handiwork.

"TAKE THAT, YOU STUPID MUTTS!!" he shouted.

"Nice Derry and Toms, kid!" Slider-Punk laughed, as he wrapped an arm around him and jumped down from the rafters, shooting a web that slowed their descent.

From behind the group, a door burst open. Out popped a familiar middle-aged Donatello, who reached forwards and grabbed the kids.

"GET IN, QUICK! That won't hold them back for long!!"

rhg!Donnie and Slider-Punk rushed inside the room after the UIFY group, slamming and bolting the door behind them. A few moments later, the door began to pound with zombies, the faint sound of their cries coming from beyond.

Leon gasped for air, but didn't dare rest before he could see where he was and who was in here.

It was quite an assortment of characters...

A human Donatello, a Donatello who was called "Ghost", spider-themed superhero versions of Donnie, Mikey, April, and Leo, a Cat mutant and her human friend, and... a giant computer with Donnie's face on it? Okay, weird...

"I'm assuming the lack of masks means that it is safe to breath in here?"

"It's safe," Spider-Shine said. "We blocked off the vents with our webs, and Omega an' Ghostie here helped build a makeshift air generator!"

"Is that everyone?" rhg!Donnie asked, short of breath as he examined the new arrivals to their little resistance.

"Yeah, it's just us," April gasped, pulling the mask from her face as she breathed in the clean air. "Dang, that was too close for comfort! Thanks for your help, uh... I'm guessing 'Donnie'?"

rhg!Donatello looked her over cautiously. She was used to that look, everyone who had ever met her after the mutation gave her that look. But what surprised her was how eerily familiar this Donatello was, despite being so entirely different. He really looked exactly like DvD... if DvD had ten fingers instead of six, dark curly hair and human skin, and was not quite so heavily built and muscular as the turtle mutant she knew. This one was a lot thinner, though he had muscle tone too. But he was mostly covered in scars and scrapes and... was that dried blood? She smiled nervously at him as she held out a hand.

"I'm April."

"...You would be, wouldn't you?"

He took her hand and shook it gently.

"You're not a turtle," he said, continuing to eye her over.

"Well, neither are you!" she chuckled anxiously.

He could tell she felt uncomfortable. He recognized the feeling, it was how he felt in the capitol and under the gaze of so many who cheered him on as he prepared to end a life. But this was different. He'd seen enough Aprils here to know they weren't supposed to be... not human. He could tell she hadn't been like this for too long, based on how she sort of hid herself, moved away from the others as if she couldn't tell she was one of them or a part of their group. The way she rubbed the fur on her arms, kept pressing her tongue against her miniature tusk and moving it around anxiously like a loose tooth that might fall out.

"...No kidding. Anyways, who are those guys?" he asked, tilting his head to look behind her at the others.

"I can answer that!" Abby said with a giggle as she skipped over to the teens panting on the floor. "This is the Until I Found You AU team! I met DvD here a few weeks prior to the prelims! And then again in the med ward while Mikey was being treated for hypoglycemia -- speaking of which, when was the last time you ate something? You're shaking pretty bad."

"I'm okay for the moment," Mikey gasped, trying to clear his throat. "But I should probably get something to eat while I can..."

"I've met them, too," Ghost said, as he came over and leaned over to the two orphan teens, reaching over to rub their heads affectionately. "I got them a pizza. How're you kids doing?"

Mikey smiled up at him. It was a weak smile, trying desperately to hide the red eyes and the tear stains on his mask, the sore and reopened wounds on his arms and the shakiness of his frail frame. Leo didn't try at all to mask his emotional state.

"Could be better," he griped.

"I imagine," Ghost sighed, bringing the two close and wrapping his cloak around them -- especially Mikey, who couldn't stop shivering. "Let's get some warm food in you, hmm?"

Mikey nodded, reaching up and asking to be carried. Ghost obliged, scooping the child into his arms and taking him to the other side of the room where there was a heater and a kitchenette, stocked with small snacks and a few easy-bake items. Leon followed after them, just like he had when they'd first met. rhg!Donnie followed after them, having caught sight of how small and frail this Mikey was, as well as the injuries on his arms...

Ghost took the tiny teen and laid him down on the couch by the fireplace. It was a much nicer lounge than the one they'd occupied previously. As mentioned, there was a mini kitchen and a decorative faux fireplace with a heater that warmed the room up quite nicely; and there were also more seating arrangements here than the other room. Mikey settled into the sofa comfortably, snuggling in with a wiggle and a giggle like he typically did. Leon scoffed at him, though he did so with a smile. Mikey always managed to find the positive and cheery moments in even the most dire of situations. Ghost grabbed a few blankets from a small basket in the corner and draped one over Leon, who smiled and nodded a quick 'thank you' at him. He went to tuck in Mikey when noticed his arms, which DvD had failed to re-wrap.

"...What happened here?" Ghost asked, gently taking Mikey's hands and lifting his forearms closer to his face. Mikey gently pulled them away.

"Just a little... um... m-m-mystic mishap," he chuckled. "It-it's alright... really!"

"I'm going to get the antiseptics," Ghost informed. "These should be bandaged. No sense in leaving them open to get infected."

"I can treat the wounds," a voice said from behind them, causing Leon to jump slightly. It was rhg!Donnie, already holding the first aid kit. "You can go get him something to eat instead."

"Alright then," Ghost consented, then turned back to Mikey. "But you will tell me how you got these, okay? If only so we can treat them properly."

Mikey swallowed nervously and nodded. Ghost stood with a soft grunt and walked over to the kitchen, getting warm snacks ready for the guests as rhg!Donnie kneeled by the sofa and started to rub disinfectant on the wounds. Mikey hissed at the touch.

"Ow! That stings," he whinged.

"That means it's working. Stop moving so much."

Mikey did as he was told. There was something about this Donnie that was... different, but familiar. He was overprotective of Mikey, he knew the feeling of someone playing mother hen. DvD acted like this a lot, especially after everything that happened with Draxum. He wondered what could have happened to his Mikey to make him want to protect him like this... the protective drive was the same, but the reactions were different. DvD was overly gentle with him. rhg!Donnie was firm and stern. Driven. Serious. He reminded him of DvD when they'd first met each other. Far too grown-up for their age, and with a determination that could kill you if you crossed them the wrong way.

rhg!Donnie was careful, but not entirely gentle. His rough and calloused hands were strict and commanding, no room for error or hesitance. Mikey winced as he took his wrist and turned it over a little too forcefully.

"Hey, careful!" Leon scolded.

"Do you want me to bandage him, or not? He has cuts all over his arms, I have to move him to get to them."

"Well, you could be a little more sympathetic with the guy!"

rhg!Donnie glared at Leon. He sighed.

"Sorry. I'll try to be more... sympathetic."

rhg!Donnie cleaned the wounds with a bit more grace than before. Mikey still whimpered and gasped in discomfort at the antibacterial and iodine.

"So, tell me... how did you get these?"

"M-m-mystic mishap," Mikey managed, coughing afterwards.

"Nice try," rhg!Donnie scoffed. "How'd you really get them?"

"What are you talking about?" Leon asked angrily. "It was mystic! He was using his magic powers too much and then--"

"Look, I'm not an idiot, I know that those scars were made by a knife, so I'm asking you, who cut your brother like this--"

"It happened a while ago," Mikey interrupted, forcing his voice to be a little louder so rhg!Donnie could hear him properly. Even still, it was low and raspy and the effort made him cough and hack profusely afterwards. Leon immediately rushed to the sink and got him some water. Mikey downed the cup, choking for a half second and spilling some of the tap water on his shirt.

"Sorry, sorry... I'm okay, I'm...!"

"It's okay, Mike, it's only water," Leon said, clapping his hand on his little brother's back to help him. "Just chillax for a sec, let your voice come back, okay? I'll do the talking."

Mikey nodded as he continued to slurp down the water.

"Anyways, Mikey here was sorta kidnapped not too long ago and experimented on -- geez, are you okay?" he asked, grimacing at the human sitting across from him.

rhg!Donnie had gone awfully pale, his eyes wide and glazed over with panic.

"...Fine," he mumbled. "Go on."

"Uh... yeah... anyways, Mike was kidnapped by Draxum -- do you have a Draxum in your universe? Ah, whatever, he was kidnapped by a bad dude and this bad dude did bad dude evil scientist stuff to Mikey and that's where he got the scars from. But that was like, weeks ago. Mikey accidentally reopened his wounds when his ninpo went into overdrive--"

"His what?" rhg!Donnie asked.

"His ninpo... y'know, like magic?"

"I said not to lie to me--!"

"They're not lying," Ghost said, standing over them with a tray of hot chocolate and some cookies. "I should've realized this sooner, but I'm guessing that since you're human that means you don't have any mutants or magic in your world," he said as he gently ruffled the teen's hair. rhg!Donnie shooed the affection away, suspicious of ulterior motives. Ghost sighed and continued.

"These kids come from a universe where their family has special abilities, mystic powers that are unique to them. And sometimes, using those powers too much have... unforeseen consequences," Ghost noted, taking Mikey's hand once again and looking at the wounds.

Michael nodded sadly. Ghost smiled and placed the warm mug into his hand.

"Just be careful next time, okay kid?" he asked, rubbing his head to assure him he wasn't mad, only concerned.

"...Very well, then," rhg!Donnie exhaled, finally admitting defeat. "In that case, I'm not sure I know how to tend to 'mystic' injuries."

"I got it," Ghost volunteered, searching in the first aid for anything especially sparkly or glowing. That would be a good sign. After some rummaging, he managed to procure some mystic cream and began to salve the cuts and sores.

rhg!Donnie watched with interest and concern. He studied the label for future reference. He memorized the patterns in which Ghost anointed the child. He took internal photographs of the angles and shapes of Mikey's scars... and prayed that he would never have to see them on his baby brother back home. He had been concerned that this was the same Mikey he'd met earlier... they looked very much alike upon first glance. But after closer inspection, he saw that they had some differences. The scars were obvious. But this one was younger, and much smaller. Not just shorter, but skinnier too. He looked a lot like his brother in that sense. As for the Leon beside him -- the one that kept giving rhg!Donnie dirty side glances -- he looked like his twin brother. Except bald. No sign of the beautiful and soft hair that rhg!Dee used to braid and style for him before he'd left. He was frightfully thin, too. A thick scarf surrounded his neck to help insulate the miniscule amount of warmth his body could provide. rhg!Donnie happened to glance over at him when he didn't expect it, and saw him pocket a few extra medical supplies, subconsciously stuffing them into his pants. There were quite a few things already in his pockets, rhg!Dee realized. This kid was a thief. Not that it bothered him, he and his Leo had been sneaky like that on more than one occasion. District 4 wasn't a very generous place to live.

rhg!Donnie found himself reaching for his hand the next time he went to snatch something. Not so much to stop him as to simply just... hold something that was so similar to his brother. He knew he wouldn't get a chance like this again for a long time. If ever. It might be stupid, but for a moment he wanted to pretend that this was his Leo. It worked for half a moment, he could almost see his brother here in the room with him.

Leon turned to him as he grabbed his hand, wide-eyed in surprise before realizing that he'd been caught.

"Oh... Old habits die hard, I guess," he explained, sheepishly dropping the tube of ointment he'd taken.

"Next time, try it like this," rhg!Donnie whispered, showing him how to take the tube with better efficiency, while simultaneously distracting the victim while you repurposed their possessions. But he got the feeling this teen already knew all the tricks of the trade.

Leon smiled weakly at him.

"Thanks, but... well, there's not really supposed to be a 'next time'," he explained, while looking back at DvD and 'Phael. "I kinda have a family now... and a home."

"Congratulations," rhg!Donnie said, hoping the genuine delight that this Leon had his family all around him came through, despite the monotonous tone in his voice.

"The kleptomania just sorta... flares up when I'm stressed," he mumbled. "When I feel like I'm not safe. I take stuff so I can pretend that I have everything I might need in an emergency." He laughed as he pulled out all the band-aids and alcohol wipes and gauze from his pockets. "I don't even know what I'd do with half of this stuff!"

"It's better to have most of this than not," rhg!Donnie mentioned, taking half of the pile and stuffing them into his own pockets, despite knowing that if he were to be portalled home again the items wouldn't be going with him. "Just in case..."

DvD had strolled right up to the giant tv screen in the room with a 2D icon of his face... or rather, a face greatly resembling his.

The icon looked down at him, it made an expression. It looked skeptical of him. It could express emotions, and could have thoughts. It must be an AI.

"How fascinating..." DvD murmured, looking the screen over. "What kind of CPU do you run on...?"

"That is classified information," the voice responded. And as flat-toned as most Donatellos tended to be, this one had actual emotion in its voice! It sounded just like him.

"What kind of program are you? You operate like a mimicry program, copying expressions and reactions..." he poked around behind the screen, investigating a few wires and buttons. "What's back here--"

"HEY NOW!" the AI reeled, two mechanical arms grabbing DvD's wrists and pulling him away as the screen moved back on its tiny little wheelie stand. "Hands to yourself, thank you very much!"

DvD's eyes widened. This was much more than a simple AI...

"What... who are you?" he asked.

"My name is OMEGA BOOTYYYSHAKER9000. Most people simply refer to me as 'Omega'. I am a replica of Hamato Donatello."

"Replica..." DvD looked the screen over as his brain pieced together the information. "...Oh."

This was always Omega's least favourite part of the competition, when the younger versions of his family understood that the future was not only unkind, but in most cases it took more than it gave.

"...Well, at the very least, you have achieved the perfect form -- man and machine, finally as one!" DvD said with a grin.

"You sound like Leonardo."

"You take that slander back."

Omega chuckled. When his Leo had first met him, he'd said something almost exactly like that...

"Do you think... do you think that this will be my fate?" DvD asked cautiously, as he continued to inspect the replica. "I've met a few older versions of myself in this competition. One was a demon-void-thing. One is tending to my brother now. I know better than to alter the course of time, I wouldn't dream of... well. But I'd like to know the probabilities, weigh out the outcomes and prepare myself mentally."

"You want to know if... you might end up as a digital duplicate?" Omega asked nervously.

"Only the statistical probability of it happening."

Omega wasn't sure about this. Yes, this teenager seemed highly intelligent and had an iron-clad determination, but he knew better than to actually tell him the truth. For whatever reason -- perhaps his own insatiable curiosity and need to know the outcome and 'create a fix' -- he crunched the numbers. He ran the simulation to test his theory. He knew the outcome of their storyline. And he was right, there was no real benefit to tell him the truth of his future... There was no benefit to telling him how -- in the wrong timeline -- his brother Leon would be the first to go, sacrificing himself to save the others during the first few years of the invasion. And Mikey would follow some time after, his hypoglycemia becoming too much of a strain for his body in a society where food was scarce and rations were slim. There was no point in telling him of the pain that he and 'Phael would bear, caring for the lone orphan son of their late comrade Cassandra Jones. No point in DvD knowing that he would be the one to invent time travel, only to use the machine once -- to send his surrogate nephew into the past to remedy everything. Omega smiled at him, keeping the simulation to himself.

"...Who can say what will happen next?"

'Phael looked in awe at the spider-themed teens in the corner who all jibbered and jabbered away. He was a little too nervous to actually approach them. They were superheroes, weren't they? He'd seen how superheroes looked in the movies! And these blokes looked just like 'em. But 'Phael's social anxiety started kicking into high gear, he fidgeted with his hands, picking at the fingernails which he'd nibbled down to stubs. He shifted his weight from foot to foot as he tried not to think about what they were thinking about, which was probably him and about how embarrassing he was --

One of the spider-teetlez turned to look at him. Oh no. OH HEADS NO, he caught him staring. He stared back. OH HEADS. The spider kid smiled and skipped over to him, his hair bouncing with each and every step.

"Hey there, big guy! You okay?"

"Oh, uh, s-sure!" 'Phael mumbled nervously. "W-w-why wouldn't I be?"

"Oi, is that another Brit I hear!?"

'Phael jumped suddenly as the blue and red turtle that had helped them in the halls immediately pounced at him, wrapping an arm around his neck with a great big smile.

"I was 'bout to lose hope for this Johnny Horner, I thought the entire arena was filled with yanks!"

"Uh heh, yeh," 'Phael chuckled, thinking maybe this wasn't the best time to tell him he technically was a 'Yank', having been born and raised in the Colonies. He was just brought up around folks with British accents...

"Hey, lads (and April)! Come 'ere, I wanna introduce ya to one of the dustbin lids that just arrived! This here is a BRITISH RAPHAEL!"

'Phael smiled nervously as he was passed around from hero to hero -- and they all were very nice and friendly, if not a bit intimidating. But then again, everyone was intimidating to him.

Everyone had gathered in the center of the room, squeezing together on the couches and sofas and ottomans and even one rocking chair. Now that everyone had introduced themselves, and Mikey had been taken care of -- his arms rebandaged and his stomach filled with tea and cookies -- it was time to come up with a plan of action.

There wasn't much time left...

End of Act 1

Act 2

[afandommultiverse]

Paper Pusher with CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

♱ Warnings: absolutely none, just some fluff lol, I guess my manic writing is a warning itself Idk

♱ A/n: please enjoy my own personal brain rot, I wrote this at 2 almost 3am and HAVE NOT EDITED IT but I wanted to post it so bad 🥰 I’m not saying it’s good but it’s indulgent 🫶

♱ WC: 1.8k

⌐╦̵̵̿ᡁ᠊╾━ ♡ ⌐╦̵̵̿ᡁ᠊╾━

Paper work was easy, honestly, you preferred it over all the other things you had to do to get to this position. Sure, the boot camps were fun and were great for making friends in later stages. At the end of the day, you weren’t made for the field work and could barely cover your own ass, let alone any of your teammates. It was quick and easy to find a position on task 141 to help oversee and complete any paperwork for the team. This included many things, from researching for future missions and people, keeping up with any new possible sources or tips while the team was away, asking for permissions of sorts from higher ups, completing summaries for each soldier after missions etc etc. You had a lot to do, but like you said, it was all easy and totally worth it.

“Our little paper pusher, how are you doing hm? Miss us while we were away?” The sound of Soap's voice breached the silence in the office, before steps flooded the room. Soon, you had a group of men huddled around your desk, all looking down at you expectantly. You only looked up and smiled, before looking back to the computer to finish your last sentence of an email, before turning back to them.

“Definitely didn’t miss you that much. I like working in silence, thank you.”

“Sure little bird, that's why we could see you looking at us while landing from your window.” Ghost spoke slyly, and glimpsed in his eyes, telling you that he knew something you didn’t.

“Oh alright, you got me. I was waiting to see if there was still a chance you guys would crash before landing.” You quipped, stood up, and stepped over to the printer, where you picked up several forms and turned back around to face them.

“You know the drill boys, fill ‘em out and get them back to me, here in this office, by midnight.” Groans filled the room, but nonetheless, they each took their stacks of paperwork and even grabbed some pens from the cup sitting on your desk. They filed one by one, closing the door again on their way out. When they were gone, you turned and walked into your storage room connecting to your office, and began rifling for an agreement form you had hidden away somewhere. The original was with Price, but since he wasn’t with the guys when they gamed in, you figured he was busy and didn't want to bother him when you could likely find the paper yourself - well, at least after you got some of these boxes out of the way.

You started from the top, wanting to take things easy, and reduce the chances of any of the boxes toppling on top of you. You searched alphabetically, following first, middle and last words you could have used to code the document or even any acronyms, but still had to find it. After fifteen minutes, you were about ready to five up, but that's when you saw it, balancing on a wobbly shelf with 3 around it blocking it in. In all honesty, it was a wonder you had even seen it, but now that you know where it is, the determination from earlier flooded your system and you began planning your accent.

The footstool was too short, but it was thick enough to hold one of the strong containers, filled with books, and from there you could step on that to reach the boxes. The first box came down easily, a loud smack sounding throughout the room as you threw it down to the floor as gently as possible from your elevation. The second one was a little harder, having to push on to the tops of your feet a bit more, your heel ever so slightly coming off the box underneath you. You felt a slight wobble from the shelf, which in turn made you wobble, but after a quick second you were sturdy again. The second smack was a little less loud, landing on top of the other box a bit more softly from the shorter distance.

When you reach the third box, you step to the tip of your toes, the step stool wobbling under your uneven weight as you balance on top of it, but also balancing against the shelf that keeps threatening to tip back against your weight, pushing the box further from the tips of your fingers. You failed your hands to catch the edges of it, pushing it towards yourself, but the movement made minimal progress. You stepped on one foot, slowly going back to what you were doing, concentrating so hard you didn’t hear your office door open and shut again.

“Need some help with that?” The voice startled you, ripping in half the concentration and balance you tried so hard to maintain in two. It was like dominoes, the shelf pushing back against your surprised weight and falling against the wall at an awkward angle. Unable to control your momentum, you fell forward with it - the tips of your feet pushing the box under you off the stool quickly. Just as you realized you were indeed falling, two arms wrapped around your waist from underneath you. As your brain caught up with the situation, your hands gripping on the shelf so tight from the fear of upcoming pain, however there was none. The strong arms wrapped around your waist and butt to stop you from falling much further, literally holding you up. Finally, the head of someone just underneath your chin staring up at you bewildered, but as he recognized you were okay, you recognized who HE was.

“P-Price?” Your whole body felt warm, looking down at him shocked. He too mirrored your expression, but it soon turned into a cheeky smile and mischievous glint in his eye.

“Just fallin’ all over me now, are you, L/n?” You turned your head away in embarrassment, to which he chuckled before he moved. He set your feet on top of the step stool again, this time with no shifty box of books on top. When you were stable enough, you stood on the stool yourself, already missing the warm arms around you. But when you unlatched yourself from the shelf, you balanced yourself on his shoulders, liking the feeling of the taunt muscles underneath.

“Are you okay?” He asked, looking at you for any injury to which there was none, fortunately because of his quick savior. You felt like you could breathe again, stepping back on the stool and looking at him in all his returning from mission glory.

“Yes, thank you so much, Price.” You felt your sweat cool from the anxious event, stepping down from step still and standing on solid ground again.

“What were you looking for anyway? Want me to grab it?” He offered, turning to look at the shelf to where you were picking through, seeing the final box, and grabbed the stool for himself. Before you knew it, he was handing you the box to look through, and thankfully you found exactly what you needed. He followed you out of the side room, setting the box on your desk, and you turned off the light and shut the door, almost hesitating to turn back around to the man whose whole presence filled your office.

“You should be more careful, or ask for help next time. We can’t have our little paper pusher out on the comp now.” You snorted, turning to face him with a smile, he always had something to say. You walked over your desk, setting down to sit and riffle through the stacks of forms for the next three or so hours.

“You’d only miss me because you’d have three times as much work to do if it weren’t for me, Captain, don’t kid yourself.” He laughed, heading even tilting back a little. You loved to make him laugh, it was one of your favorite things to do, because if you could make him laugh, you got a heart with that wonderfully velvety voice that almost sang to you.

“You only half right, I’ll give you that.” He settled down in the chair in front of me, laying back like he planned to stay longer. He took his hat off, scratching his head, before placing it back on top in its place.

“Oh? What’s this other half hm? Let me guess, my winning personality?” That sarcasm was basically dripping, but he wasn’t phased, smiling at you before saying,

“If it were up to me, I’d say you were a mind reader, Y/n.” You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips as you tried to get some work done, but you could not keep your eyes off the man in front of you. He looked tired, but he was happy and tired. The mission had been a success, with zero casualties, and benefited greatly from it, with new assets and even some information worth zeroing in on. Something you would no doubt have to fit in your schedule somehow, but nonetheless it was better than the alternative.

“Don’t you want to go get washed up? Go relax with a cigar or something?” You asked after a half-hour of debriefing and catching up. He had taken off his hat completely, hair messy and flat. His eyes were barely staying open as it is, but he kept chatting, offering to help with anything and everything, not wanting to stay a minute longer as he had asked you earlier when you had come in. When you told him 5am, he almost couldn't believe it, as your job started at 8am, but apparently you wanted a head start on the day. In truth, you couldn’t sleep that night, you could never sleep well enough on the night that they were supposed to come back, almost expecting something wrong to happen, and never being able to see them again, never being able to see Price again.

“I’m relaxing here.” He spoke so plainly. Like he hadn’t been up for the last 64 hours. John Price needed rest.

“I thought you would say that, that’s why I sent Ghost a little email.” As if right on que, Ghost knocked on and opened the door. Walking in and up the Captain.

“Heard yer botherin’ the nice lady.” He joked, nudging John's shoulder while looking back at me shocked.

“You're kicking me out? After I saved you?” You stood and rounded the desk, coming to rest on it in front of him.

“You need to rest John, as much as you want to keep working, you can’t. So get some rest and see me in the morning to talk about your summary papers for this mission.” John groaned as he stood, but shot you a smile before following Ghost out. Truthfully, John didn’t need Ghost to leave, he would have left if you asked the right way.

But you knew deep down you wouldn’t have asked him to leave.

[detachedminxsfics]

System Error

Characters: JD Richter x Detective F!Reader

Summary: You take on a homicide case and find that you're not as alone as you thought you were at the crime scene.

Word count: 5.1K+

Warnings: NSFW - Vaginal sex, riding, drunk sex, mixing business with pleasure

A/N: I wrote this at 2am so I was too tired to check/revise for mistakes, so apologies to anybody who reads this lmao. Also I'm only on like ep 9 atm so I wrote him as best as I could. :)

Ten k. That was what someone was willing to pay to solve a homicide, and you'd be damned if you weren't gonna take that. Vee, your computer system responsible for receiving all jobs for the patrol special had come to life with the alert of an incoming job. A suspected homicide down fifth avenue, a man was found murdered in his own home. There was no way of telling whether it was gonna be a clean-cut case until you could see the crime scene for yourself, and with Vee's timer slowly chipping at your twenty seconds to make your decision you hurried off for your shoes and sighed.

"I accept."

The computer processed your response, and then the job was yours.

"Would you like a partner?"

You laughed a little, not that that would amuse the software.

"No, Vee. I never do."

You finalised zipping up your boots, standing up and making your over to where you'd strewn your jacket, throwing it over your shoulders.

"Sending crime scene location to your nav, please confirm receipt."

The screen lit up with a full address, and your eyes wandered over it for a moment.

"Confirm."

The criminal activity matrix hibernated once more, and that was it. That was your night planned out. The drive wasn't too long as the location wasn't awfully far, and before you knew it you were parked outside, staring over at the apartment block in front. There was a car parked relatively close to yours, a jeep positioned almost as though its driver had the same intentions as you, but you swept away the thought. This was a complex of many residents, albeit rich ones, and that could be any one of the resident's vehicles. Though you weren't sure why one of them would own such a vehicle, and a muddy, not so maintained one at that. You stepped out of your car and made your way into the building, bypassing the complex's security systems until you reached the floor you needed. Sixth, apartment number 154. Locating was the easiest part. After overriding the electronic lock system on the front door you pushed it open, gun raised vigilantly. It had happened a few times before, the culprit hangs around, or tries to make their way back to cover their tracks after the initial body discovery. Could never be too careful. You were cautious as to the volume of your steps, nevertheless, one creaky floorboard gave way to a whole load of ruckus in an entirely silent room. If anyone was here, they'd surely know your whereabouts by now.

"Don't move a muscle, hands up and drop it."

A man's voice sounded from behind you, your back to him as you kept your gun gripped in your hand, merely lowering your arm and looking straight ahead of you.

"I've done a lot of cases, but a murderer employing cop lingo is a first."

Something wasn't right, and you hoped that what you were implying was telling enough.

"You're a cop?" He questioned with a tinge of skepticism.

You turned to face him now, not entirely convinced that he would still shoot you. He seemed to tense a little once you did. Well, what a surprisingly pleasant sight to behold. He looked the middle-aged whiskey-drinking type, and the matte leather jacket did little to ease your idealised first impression.

"Patrol special, and you're on my crime scene."

You tucked your gun into your waistband as opposed to its usual holster and glanced up at him, he looked wildly offended, judging by the look of disbelief splayed across his face.

"Your crime scene? Not only was I here first, but this is most certainly my case."

Concurrently, you pulled your remote matrix systems from your pockets, eyes locked with one another as you unlocked your devices.

"11964, passkey buffalo jump." He muttered his security details.

"3273, passkey angel wings." You did the same.

Simultaneously, you turned the devices to face one another, the synchronously timed confusion etching across your features priceless. Both screens displayed the same job, everything down to the victim details and case ID, meaning the two of you were most certainly in the right place. Defeated, you both lowered your devices and tucked them back to where they belonged, and your newly appointed comrade lowered his gun.

"Must've been a system error, a malfunction, or something. You pick a partner?" He asked.

You shook your head.

"Nope, I don't work so well with others."

"Likewise."

A standoff. You had two choices. The first consisted of familiarising yourselves with one another, considering you were about to be partners in this case. The other? Race him. Bounty hunters had done it before, competing with one another for who would score the payout, and solve the case first. Though, he didn't seem like the competitive type.

"Truce, and I suppose we get the ten thousand each. If not? Five k split. Sound fair?" As generous an offer as you could give, and if he denied, honour be damned.

You extended your hand with a moderate amount of composure, and his brows furrowed as he worked the idea through his head. He mulled on it for a moment or two, and then his hand closed around yours, shaking hands as you established the grounds for your truce.

"JD Richter."

You tilted your head slightly, and a small smile spread across your lips.

"Cute." You muttered offhandedly, heading off towards the bedroom.

He followed after you.

"Not gonna give me your name?" JD pried.

You stepped into the master bedroom, surveying the room for anything misplaced or unusual, practically ignoring him.

"Need to know basis, or you can look me up. File's a little wild, but a guy like you might get a kick out of it."

You rounded the bed to discover the pool of blood staining the off-white carpet, bending down to get a closer look. Purposefully, you ignored the sounds of a scanner from behind you as he obviously looked you up, the repetitive beeping that subsequently ceased indicating that he had found it.

"You're a busy girl. A repeat offender for petty theft and battery, served some time. Then you went straight, did some time in the force. Now your solo as of four months ago. You get cold feet?"

You let a small giggle slip, still focusing your attention on the clue right under your nose.

"No, I got bored. Needed something a little more thrilling."

It was true. A position in generalised law enforcement just wasn't good enough for a thrill seeker such as yourself, not when you could be working with homicide cases and collecting mass payouts like this. Bounty hunting was where your heart lie. Your head wandered down to just beside the blood, careful not to contaminate the evidence, and pinched to gather something from the carpet. You raised and turned your hand over to look at your fingertip, seeing as you had collected some kind of paint chip. Or...

"Killer's female. Probably early to mid-twenties."

You rose to your feet with the nail polish chip still laid on your fingertip, careful not to drop it.

"What makes you so sure?"

You extended your hand to show him the speck of rouge varnish.

"Nail polish. Chips off sometimes, and the choice of colour just screams twenties. I have a knack for this sorta thing."

His brows were raised, and he seemed impressed.

"Okay, you're quick. Anything else?"

JD was willing to see how far he could push your investigative skills, and whether he could make you stutter. You wouldn't fold.

"The trail of sole indents in the carpet. Heels, judging by the dimension, stiletto. And a guy as rich as this? Louboutins, perhaps. He was probably well acquainted with his killer."

He smiled, a genuine and fascinated one.

"Well, alright. You suggestin' we got a femme fatale on our hands?"

You pulled your phone from your pocket to take a photo of the chip, making sure that you focused it so it would be clear enough that you could use it later.

"I am. They're my specialty." You finished your sentence by flicking the polish back onto the carpeted floor, your eyes boring into his as you silently urged him to detail the next move.

You knew, but it was his turn to be put on the spot.

"So, killer had to be close. We do some digging, social media, anything that could allude to a girlfriend or some lady friend of his, and then we narrow it down." When he stopped your brows raised expectantly, you hadn't expected him to finish his sentence so prematurely.

He looked bewildered by the way your expression urged him to continue, and you playfully rolled your eyes.

"Then, we make a house call. I'll see if I can find some matches for the polish, and we search for it. With varnish that old its probably wiped off with all the scrubbing she did to clean her hands of blood, so focusing on whoever has painted fingernails is pointless."

He nodded, feigning a sense of 'I knew that', and his facade of confidence brought a smile to your lips. Clearly, he was too confident to admit that he was out of his depth, and without you, this case would have been a whole lot harder.

"With that outta the way, how about drinks? My place, considering we're buddies an' all." JD mused with a grin of his own.

"A man after my own heart."

The two of you exited the crime scene, taking the elevator down to the lobby and making your way over to your car. You watched as JD split off to return to his vehicle, the jeep that you'd had suspicions of before. Your gut was as remarkable as usual, you hadn't lost your touch. Starting up your car you followed his vehicle, tailing him all the way to his place. Eventually, he pulled off the main road and onto a side road that led right out into a relatively private and modest one-floor home. Taking your keys from the ignition you pushed your car door open and stepped out, JD was already halfway up the steps to the porch as he had arrived a little before you by the time you made it to his front yard. He unlocked his front door and pushed it open, leaving it ajar so you could make your way inside. You did, shutting it behind you. For what it was worth his home seemed, simple. It was quaint, and looked as though it belonged to a person who was neither struggling to make ends meet nor rolling cash, he was just that middle ground of comfort.

"What's your poison?" He called out, and you made your way over to his sofa, slipping your jacket from your shoulders.

"Whiskey."

Truthfully, you didn't give a shit. Whatever got you waking up and not knowing anything that had happened the night before was your drink of choice, something to get you blacked out. He emerged from the kitchen holding two glasses and a bottle, setting them down on the coffee table. Then, he settled down beside you, twisting the cap as he readied himself to pour your drinks.

"So, JD, how'd you end up in this business?"

He poured the liquor from the bottle into each glass, the sound of running liquid filling your ears.

"Dishonourable discharge. This seemed like the next best thing, and it pays well enough."

You nodded taking the glass from the table after he slid it over to you. He took his own, nonchalantly holding it as he turned to face you. You did the same, apart from taking a rather generous swig of yours.

"Are you married?"

It was personal for someone you had known for an hour tops, but moving fast seemed to be the theme for this evening. His eyes grew a little solemn.

"Divorced. I like the crazy ones, I guess that's just my cross to bear." JD quipped.

You didn't smile until towards the end of his sentence, when even his eyes lit up a little. You threw the last of the liquor back and set down the empty glass.

"Figures."

Picking up the bottle you tipped it and filled your empty glass, if tonight didn't leave you with gaps in your memory you'd know you haven't done it right. JD seemed to pick up on what your intentions were, and he emptied the contents of his glass into his throat, setting it down and taking the bottle once you were done with it.

"What about you?"

You stalled for a moment, and then realised that he was referring to whether you were romantically entangled or not.

"No, not for me. I've had a few, partners, but the relationship's always strictly bedroom only."

A sip this time, fearing that emptying this glass would further the already present effects of this impromptu truth serum, and you'd spill far more than you intended to give away.

"Why don't you stay here for the night? We can start in the morning, and that way you don't get pulled over for a drink driving charge."

If you were fancy enough in this modern world of technological advancement you could afford one of those self-driving automated cars, but you were not. Neither was JD. Staying here didn't seem like such a bad idea, especially not when your company was so handsome. God, how much have you had to drink?

"Okay, hotshot. I'll stay."

JD was smiling as he raised his glass, watching you as you too brought the rim of the glass to your lips. It was gonna be a long night.

Minutes turned into hours, and by the time you looked back to assess the amount of whiskey left, the bottle was near enough empty. You were screwed. Now both severely inebriated you were huddled pretty close to one another, your knee brushing his thigh as his arm rested on the top of the sofa, supporting your head.

"Okay, okay, what's the like most craziest shit you've ever seen on a case?" It sounded a lot more concise in your head, but you mumbled it once it came out of your mouth.

JD chuckled at your initial incoherence, even in spite of the fact that he could translate your drunken speech perfectly. His eyes veered off toward the ceiling as he sighed thoughtfully. A beat passed.

"There was this guy that just lost it and offed his whole family. The kids, the wife, all of 'em. Found him red-handed, blood everywhere, and the guy looked as though he didn't feel even the slightest bit of remorse. Definitely not the worst of the things I've seen, but that's what you get serving in kuwait." Though notably buzzed, he'd levelled his tone to a more serious note out of respect for what he was discussing.

You frowned, having not expected something so grim.

"Well, shit. I was gonna say something stupid like the perp I caught because she left her bra on the floor of the crime scene, and I'm pretty good at guessing bra sizes. Ended up tackling her in a bar." Your more witty and comedic story was quick to lighten the mood, and JD idly rested a hand on your thigh.

Through the haze of intoxication, his touch was electrifying. You attempted to repress your urge to faintly quiver from his contact, unsure whether you were successful or not.

"Why is it that all the good looking women are crazy?"

You scoffed with false offense, mockingly hovering a hand over your heart.

"I'm not crazy, just ambitious. And a little impulsive."

His face moved closer to yours, the hand beginning to trace your thigh, fingertips teasing the hem of your skirt. In his venture, his fingers lightly grazed over the handle of the gun you kept holstered beneath your skirt, and you supposed the firearm didn't exactly help you plead your case of complete sanity. The skirt was already hiked from the way you were sitting, the sight of your panties obscured only by the fact that your thighs were pressed together.

"Oh yeah, how so?"

JD was teasing you, crossing the usual line of a professional and formal partner dynamic. And in a way, the fact that you admitted to having such frequent casual sex was incredibly appealing.

"Like this."

You whispered as you leant in, looking into his eyes for a moment before you pressed your lips against his. It was slow, and he groaned as though he wasn't expecting it. Still stealing one another's breath you climbed onto his lap, bent knees resting on either side of his hips as you slipped your tongue into his mouth, and he accepted it without the slightest hesitation. Eventually, JD managed to gather enough control to pull himself back, his hands on either side of your face as he attempted to blink through the haze of intoxication.

"Okay, you're not thinking straight. And frankly, neither am I. You sure you wanna mix business with pleasure?"

You gave a sultry smile, slightly tilting your head as you reached down and palmed the bulge that had formed at his crotch.

"What, like you haven't before?"

You gave no time for a response as your mouth was on his again, and he drunkenly succumbed to your advances. It was a little messy, intentional and yet awkward movements as you wrestled off one another's clothes and allowed the discarded garments to form a pile on the floor. In time your panties were all that was left, and they didn't last much longer. JD had undone his pants and pushed everything down to his ankles, including his boxers, leaving him nude beneath you as you worked off your thin and lacy underwear. You tossed it aside once it dangled loosely from one of your ankles and placed your hands on JD's shoulders, supporting yourself as you hovered above him, your hair cascading over your face. Simply, he raised one of his hands to cup one side of your face whilst the other settled on your hip. He gently urged you to lean down to press your lips against his, lining himself up and pulling you down onto him just as your lips meet. Your rather surprised and immodest moan bled into your heated kiss, and you can feel the noticeable sensation of fullness once you're fully settled down onto him. It's incredible. You pull back just to catch your breath.

"Fuck, holy shit JD." Is all you can manage as he uses his remaining grip on your curvature to ease you up again, just enough, before bringing you back down onto him.

Your hands fall from his shoulders to slide down his bare and moderately hairy chest, and your mouth falls open as you feel all of him, again. JD all the while just seems rather amused, the liquid courage leaving him a little haughty.

"C'mon, you made the move. Show me how ambitious you really are, partner."

The challenge was enough for you to somewhat clear your head, and you narrowed your eyes slightly. Luckily for him, you were pretty determined, and quite the competitor. You lifted yourself before coming down pretty hard, gradually setting a relentless and gratifying pace that had both of you letting the most foul of sounds tumble from your mouths. Your half-lidded eyes were fixed on him as you rolled your hips, drinking in the stray strands of hair that hung from the way he'd neatly styled his hair, and the way his lips parted to let out small, shaky breaths. Teasingly, you feel JD's fingers dig into the top of one of your thighs, the other still caressing your hip. He wouldn't utter a word, but the way you looked bouncing on top of him like this? You were fucking beautiful. All he could do was silently thank the system for one of the best errors of his life, the light of his eyes the only indicator of the way he was appreciating you. Your moans grew louder, a string of crude and unrestrained whimpers that filled the air of his quiet, one-story home. Knowing you were close only urged him to move his own hips in time with yours, the added stimulation only worsening the pleasure brimming in the pit of your stomach. As you gave one final roll of your hips before collapsing on top of him JD followed shortly after, twitching beneath you as your head fell into the crook of his neck. His guttural groans resounded just beside your ear, a tune that told you that was a job well done, and your ambition was pretty clear. Inebriated, overstimulated, and with your mind seemingly unable to concentrate on anything other than the pitch black behind your eyelids, you were done for the night. Everything after that gets suitably fuzzy. Your vision's vivid at various different points, but from what you can gather judging by the way the ground suddenly grew farther away, and the feeling of overall weightlessness, JD carried you to bed.

The sun beamed over your face, a light seemingly unavoidable, even despite your blissfully closed eyelids.

"Rise and shine." Spoke an enthusiastic voice, and you peeked your eyes open to look at your talking and oddly human alarm clock.

Reluctantly, you opened your eyes all the way, momentarily shielding them from the harshness of the light and leaning up.

"God, this feels like shit."

Your head was pounding, temples seemingly throbbing as everything got a whole lot louder, and brighter. His understanding but partially taunting chuckle prompted him into offering you the only help that he could think of.

"Coffee? I'm on my second, we drank a lot."

"You're telling me. Yeah, whatever."

JD headed off towards the kitchen to fix you your hangover remedy, and you managed to haul yourself from the bed in search of your clothes. He'd already found his, and you walked out to the lounge to kneel on the floor and scramble to retrieve yours. Having recovered your underwear and your skirt you continued to search for the rest of it, completely ignoring the steps that had come from the kitchen and halted just in front of you. JD was watching you, hung over, nude, and crawling across his living room floor.

"I gotta say, you could stay like that. We just might not get much work done."

Your head snapped up to award him a warning glare, what you had managed to find of your clothes tucked under your arm.

"Behave." Blunt, but candid enough to rip off the band-aid with the realisation that you two didn't have time for this, and you were going to need to focus.

JD raised his free hand in surrender, and you proceeded to recover the rest of your garments, standing to your feet and throwing them on once successful. Meanwhile, he set the coffee mug down on the table and scurried off to do something else, and you sat down on the couch finally fully clothed. When JD returned he set his laptop down on the table and offhandedly gestured for you to open it, so you did. He sat down beside you with a cluster of papers in hand, leaning over and keying in his password when the device prompted him to do so.

"I'll leave the socials to you. I've got his phone records and transcripts here to go over. Gonna look for any abnormalities and calls that went out the night he died."

"Got it." You muttered offhandedly, already invested in the task at hand.

It took maybe an hour flat, and you'd pinned everything. Rich aristocrat types such as this guy were all too flashy, usually gaining online traction for their repeated bragging of all their financial assets, so he was hardly difficult to find. Then came another often flaunted asset, women. There were many, but a handful appeared more than once, and you had a hunch for this particular girl. You pieced together a list of your most notable suspects and then cross-referenced it with JD's list of frequent callers considering you'd already profiled most of the girls, including their mobile phone numbers.

"Her." You muttered, tapping your pencil on your personal favourite.

JD glanced at you with a considerable amount of apprehension, but the confidence in your eyes was persuasive and convincing.

"Okay, you got an address?"

You sure did. The next few minutes consisted of piling into JD's jeep, and you were pulling into the drive of your suspect's home before you knew it. Judging by the look of her home she was, comfortable. Not the kind of level of wealth of your entrepreneurial victim, but enough. Houses like these had good, advanced security systems, but detectives were able to bypass pretty much anything, especially in a case like this. Politely, you both stepped out of the car and made your way to the front door first, knocking and letting a beat pass. When you received no response it became pretty conclusive that she wasn't home, which was perfect, really. JD tampered with the security system and you were able to get her front door open with little to no fuss, you stepping in first to get a brief look at her place. You deduced the room most likely to be the bedroom and made a beeline for it, barely able to contain yourself in your desire to search for the infamous red polish. JD trailed behind you, his footsteps closely following yours as you stepped into the bedroom and began to survey her dresser. Eventually, your eyes landed on a slightly scattered heap of different nail varnish, your eyes settling on all of the red ones in particular. Whilst you sifted through the nail polish and attempted to match it with the sample on your phone JD discovered the shoe rack and began to look for any stiletto-heeled shoes, more to be busy with something more than anything. Finally, one particular shade of red came ablaze with the notification of a match.

"Bingo. Chanel too, classy girl."

You spun to face JD with a smile of triumph, and his own smile seemed to resemble a similar sense of premature victory.

"Perfect. Now time to go pay our little femme fatale a visit."

JD exited the bedroom to make his way back to the jeep, and you stuffed the nail polish in your pocket. It was evidence, and besides, red was your colour. Unexpectedly, JD had been waiting for you out in the hallway, and his features looked so serious. You approached him a little concerned, considering you had solved the case after all, and he'd been over the moon only a few seconds ago.

"Look I uh, it's been nice with you. Working, with you." JD cleared his throat after his slight mishap in specifying the enjoyable part of his time with you, but your eyes drifted elsewhere, caught up with the movement over his shoulder.

"Duck!"

It took him a moment, but he eventually caught on and leaned over just as you did, narrowly missing the blade that was hurled toward his head. It passed over you both and embedded in the wall behind you, and you were quick to pull your pistol from the holster beneath your skirt and aim, reflexively squeezing the trigger and firing a shot into the woman's leg. It was the only reason you wore this damn thing, and it often came in handy. She cried out crumpling to the floor clutching her newly wounded knee, and you heaved a sigh of relief. You were still processing how quickly you had acted as JD made his way over to her and restrained her into handcuffs, affirming the capture of your killer. Some not-so-pleasant words were exchanged in the moments before the authorities came to collect her, but you hardly paid much attention when you received your payout of ten thousand dollars.

"You too?" You asked JD, who was also staring down at his matrix.

"Yep, ten thousand each, a pretty hefty sum for a job like this."

It was. But you were most definitely not going to complain, a system error meant a financial one, and you'd earned that money fair and square. The case was closed, and you both stood there for a moment or two, unsure who should make the first move.

"We should probably get going." You broke the silence, and JD nodded in agreement.

Foolishly, you almost hoped you two would have gotten to spend a little more time together. He was good company, an adequately competent partner, and from what you could remember, good in bed. Nevertheless, JD still had to drive you back to his since you'd left your car, and so you followed him out to the jeep. The drive was silent, almost in contemplation. You'd gone from avoiding a knife meant for the back of JD's head to the thought of driving home and getting into your bed, a significant turn of events. The contrast played havoc with your gradually subsiding adrenaline. Even through your intense thought, you did notice when the vehicle came to a stop. You unclipped your seatbelt and stepped out, and JD came around from the other side of the car. For a moment you dared think he was as disappointed about having to part ways as you were, but neither of you was the cooperative type.

"Well, thanks for, last night. And being such a great partner." You leaned forward and planted an intimate but casual kiss on his stubble-filled cheek, barely sparing the time to acknowledge his reaction afterwards as you made way for your car.

You'd made it one step when his arm reached out and carefully snatched you back, spinning you back to face him.

"Wait, you should take my number. Just in case."

You raised one brow, a smile playing on your lips from the tone of his request.

"In case of?"

He thought for a moment, lips forming his own impish smile.

"You never know, system errors."

Yeah, system errors. At least that was how you justified it when you exchanged numbers. Finally, it was time for you to take your leave. JD was halfway up the steps to his front porch when you rolled down the window and called out from your car, foot angled readily to bolt out of his driveway.

"I left my bra on your bed, by the way!"

You were gone before he could even spare you a glance.

[bean-bean2000]

The Hacker - Part 11

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Status: Ongoing

All feedback is very welcome and appreciated!

Warnings: violence, guns, angst, action (fighting), explosions, swearing.

Please let me know if i missed any warnings and I will add them.

Series masterlist

Part 10

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Once the jet lands, you unbuckle the straps and head to the exit.

"Hey, hold on. You know the protocol, Cyber. We debrief the mission, the plan and emergency escapes if needed, before we exit." Steve says to you sternly.

You scoff and roll your eyes "Sir, yes sir!" you mockingly salute him.

"Watch the attitude, doll. I need you to focus here." Steve warns you.

You huff and cross your arms but you know he's right. You're acting like a brat and taking it out on him when it isn't his fault.

"So, the plan is simple. This is an abandoned Hydra facility. We're looking for any discarded and forgotten classified documents. Anything that will tell us what they were doing in there and why they left. Buck and I will enter first, securing the area before giving you the go to follow. We will scour the area, checking for traps and ambushes. That's where you come in. From the jet, you will hack into the security system and watch us from there. You need to tell us if you see anything, and warn us of any dangers. If you can, disable any traps you can from here. Then, we need you to hack into the mainframe system and retrieve any information you can from this facility. You're not to leave the jet. Understood?"

You nod your head yes, to which Steve gives you a look and you sigh "Yes, Captain. I understand loud and clear." you grumble.

"Good. Thank you, now let's get ready." Steve turns around and assembles his and Bucks equipment.

Bucky turns to you and tries to say something but you turn your back to him and walk to get your computer equipment. You're deliberately ignoring him, you're angry and upset.

He sighs and turns to Steve who gives him a knowing look of 'I told you so'.

Once everyone is ready and you've set yourself up on the jet, Bucky and Steve walk off the jet towards the facility.

You turn on the cameras and watch them as they jog to the entrance. You're scanning the area, filtering through the systems. You notice a few silent alarms and disarm them, advising the two men to be more vigilant.

You curse under your breath "stupid super soldiers... think they're invincible, all brawn and no brain i swear..."

"We heard that. Turn the comms off next time, doofus." Bucky says through the comms.

You chuckle and continue focusing on your task.

You're watching them go room to room, scanning the surroundings while you're disarming small alarms here and there. You're surprised at how easy this is, there are no major firewalls or preventive measures to deter hackers.

"Nothing here, this room is clear too... the place is empty... Cyber do you see anything that we can't?" Steve asks.

"Not really... it's been very easy so far... nothing has -" you stop, you notice something in the corner of your screen.

What is that? It's a small icon of a snake? You click on it and it hisses as your screen turns black. Then, all your systems crash and everything goes black.

You hear a dark laugh, emitting from the speakers. It's surrounding you. Your face turns to white. You know that laugh, it still haunts you at night.

You panic and rush to the comms "STEVE? BUCK? DO YOU COPY? I'M BLIND. I HAVE NO VISUAL! WE'RE COMPROMISED! GET OUT OF THERE NOW!" you're screaming.

You feel your heart in your throat, you can't breathe.

Suddenly, your computers boot up again. It opens to the security cameras, all in visual. You spot Steve and Bucky fighting over 30 hydra soldiers.

Where did they come from? What the fuck?

You scramble to hack into the systems again but you're blocked. Stopped by an extensive firewall, one like you've never seen before.

You keep looking to the cameras to watch the men fight, praying they can hold on until you're back online.

"There you are my little experiment. You thought you could escape me?" The Reaper speaks through your computer.

"We've been waiting for you to come out and be left alone again. You're mine." he snares.

Your panic quickly turns to anger. You will not be controlled by him.

"Listen to me you slimy fucker. I belong to nobody. I will find you and I will kill you with my own hands." you spit at him.

His laugh echoes once more through the speakers "I'd like to see you try."

Your eyes are burning with rage as you turn to the cameras and see Steve and Bucky being beaten to the ground, surrounded by at least 10 soldiers each, now. They can't hold off much longer, there's just too many.

You see them being pushed to their knees, a gun held to the back of each of their heads.

"No! STOP! Stop it!" you scream as you run to the doors of the jet but slam your fist on the door as you're locked inside.

"Ah ah ahhhhh.... You don't call the shots here, my little pet. May I propose a deal?" The Reaper hisses through the speakers. You feel a shiver run down your spine.

"What do you want?"

"Simple. You in exchange for them. Come with me and they live. If not, I will kill them and take you by force. It's your choice. We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

You're hyperventilating, trying to keep your mind from panicking.

Think. Think. Think. Come on. What do I do? I've survived before, I can survive again.

You swallow thickly at the realization of what needs to be done. You lost, you can never truly escape him.

You feel your brain click into place as you formulate your escape plan. You promised you would protect them too. Now's your chance.

"Okay, you're right, you win. I promise I'll be good and listen to you." you purr. "Just tell your soldiers to put their guns down and back away. I will meet you outside. I'll never leave again. I'm your little pet." you drawl out, telling him everything you know he wants to hear.

The Reaper chuckles "That's right, I knew you would come along eventually...". You can hear the excitement in his voice. It makes you shudder.

You're typing away on your computer while speaking to him, distracting him by praising him. Letting him believe he has control.

"You're right... you're too powerful. How could I believe I could ever escape you? I'm yours..." you say slowly, pitching your voice slightly higher.

You look to the cameras and see Steve and Bucky confused as the Hydra soldiers leave them tied to a pole outside and walk away.

"Now, they're safe. Come out, pet." The Reaper commands.

You're furiously typing away at your computer.

Just a few more seconds. Come on Come on Come on.

"Yes, sir. I'm coming out now. I'm just erasing everything so there are no traces left for them to follow to find me." you lie sweetly.

Done.

You let out a long breath. This is it, you got this. You hear the doors unlock and open, the cold air hitting your face.

You walk out slowly, dragging your feet purposefully. The Reaper is waiting for you in the middle of the field, with Steve and Bucky to the right side tied to the pole. The Reaper is watching your every move and smiling possessively as you approach him, swaying your hips and looking down at the floor.

"There you are, pet." he purrs as he walks toward you.

You look up through your lashes and bat them, hands clasped behind your back. You're acting as small and meek as possible.

The Reaper grabs your chin. You see his eyes through his mask. They're sparkling with lust and it makes you gag internally. You hold your composure.

You smile and press your cheek to his hand "You were right... I belong to you. I'll always be yours." you drawl out, batting your lashes.

"What are you doing?! GET OUT OF HERE! DON'T TOUCH HER YOU BASTARD!" you hear Bucky screaming as he pulls against the restraints.

"Cyber, don't do this, please." Steve begs, understanding what and why you're doing this, submitting to him.

You ignore them and force the tears back. You close your eyes and release a deep breath, gaining the courage to go through with your plan.

You look up at him smirking and press the button on your phone that is hiding in your hands behind your back.

Suddenly, the furthest part of the facility explodes, shaking the ground.

The Reaper turns his back to you in surprise. The hunting knife you were hiding, slides out of your sleeve and into your hand. You lunge at him and dig the knife into his ribs. He screams and falls to the ground as you pull the knife out. He turns around and swings at you, landing a harsh punch that sends you flying to the floor.

"You bitch. You ungrateful whore." he gasps as bloods leaks from his side.

You laugh "I told you I would kill you with my own hands. Now, you will witness everything you built burn to the ground while you bleed out, gasping for air, begging for mercy. I will show you the same courtesy you showed me and laugh as I watch you get sent to hell." you spit at him.

He screams deeply as he sits on his knees, failing to stop the bleeding from his side. You targeted an essential area of his body, he'll bleed out in minutes.

You walk up to him and rip his mask off.

"The face of the cowardly man who could only feel power when hiding behind his mask. Pathetic." you stare into his eyes, anger emitting from your entire being.

You grab your knife and slice his face from his eyebrow to his lip.

"This is vengeance for the pain you inflicted upon me. You will die here, a coward, a failure. You will never experiment on anyone ever again. I will relish in the fact that you will burn in hell for all eternity as punishment." you spit at him.

The Reaper is covered in his own blood. A pool of it surrounding him as he bleeds out of his face and his side. He starts to cough up blood as well, falling to the floor.

You watch as his breathing is shallow and harsh, choking on his own blood.

You lean down to look into his eyes "Your terror ends here. Burn in hell."

You watch the light from his eyes fade as his body droops to the floor.

You grab your phone and set off your traps laid out for the remaining Hydra soldiers, ensuring that none survive.

You turn around and run to Steve and Bucky. They stare at you in disbelief and say nothing as you undo their ties.

Once they're free, Bucky pulls you into a hug. "You saved us..."

He pulls away and stares into your eyes "hey, you did it. He's gone."

You nod silently as you feel Steve grab your arm lightly "What happened?"

That's when everything comes crashing down. The realization of what you just did envelops you. Every emotion you were holding back came out at once. Bucky caught you as you fell into his arms, bawling.

Both Steve and Bucky are holding you, shushing you and trying to calm you down.

"I had to do it. He proposed an exchange, me for you two. I knew I needed him dead. I couldn't move on if I let him live." you explain between sobs.

Once you calm down and are able to speak more clearly, you explain what happened. When you're done, they both pull you into a hug, praising you for your bravery and thanking you for saving them.

"I guess you were right.. we are all brawn and no brains. We would've never made it out if it weren't for you thinking quick on your feet and setting up those traps." Bucky says to you while smirking.

You manage to giggle as he helps you stand up and walk back to the jet. Exhaustion taking over as the adrenaline wears off. Before you know it, Bucky sweeps you off your feet and carries you back.

He places you on the med bed in the jet and tucks you in as Steve prepares for take off. Bucky sits next to him and begins to co-pilot.

"How do you think she's going to cope with this? Will she ever be able to get over this?" Bucky asks.

"I didn't expect it, I'll be honest. I think we really underestimated her on the field. She's much stronger than we thought...but I think she will get over this. We all did, look at you Buck, your lives are very similar and you're doing great now." Steve replies.

"I know, I know... I just want to protect her"

"Maybe she doesn't need to be protected, maybe she just needs support instead." Steve sighs and shrugs his shoulders, "I think you're that main support, Buck. I know you know that. I think it's time you face your fears and tell her how you feel, properly."

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek and shuffles in his seat. He knows Steve is right, but he isn't good at communicating his feelings.

He turns around and looks at Cyber sleeping soundly.

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

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[starfleetwitch]

Berenice Griselda Wolfe tried to kill me and when that didn't work, she sabotaged my home set up by being a flirty MF with a TARDIS.

(Not a sentence I thought I'd EVER write completely sober or seriously but here we are)

This is a bit of a long story and now I've written it and got it out of my system I fully realise just how much I resemble a dog barking at a corner for no reason.

There is a TLDR at the end

Story time:

So I got this Tardis themed external USB hub for Christmas a few years ago.

It's kinda cool, lights up when you plug in a USB and what not. Fantastic. It also made that scrapping TARDIS sound when you plug in USBs. Also a fantastic feature, quite quirky. Much wow... For a week and then it really grated on my nerves. Found out after a month there was a switch on the side that let you turn the sound off. Wonderful. Fantastic. Problem solved. They all lived happily ever after, end of the story.

Except it wasn't.

Because the internet exists and with it, great knowledge that I shouldn't have been allowed access to.

I got bored and last year during some death scrolling, I found out I could change that hideously irritating TARDIS scraping sound...

...TO WHAT EVER I WANTED...

... And lesbian jesus help me, I wanted to be funny 🙈

So I decided to use sound bites from Holby City. Specifically from Bernie Wolfe.

We had "I say ding dong" for when a USB was pushed into a slot and "Easy tiger" for when a USB was pulled out of a slot.

Link here for reference: Where it all went wrong

Anyway. For a while it was quite funny... Except for you know... When my volume was turned up full blast and I was getting jump scared by Bernie Wolfe's voice every time I plugged in, lord knows what the rest of the house thought every time it went off.

I lived with it for a while... You know... Haha, scared me, GOT ME AGAIN BERNIE YOU OLD SCALLY WAG! But then things started going wrong. The jump scares started going into heart failure mode when in the middle of the night if I was doing a long download, she'd just randomly yell 'DING DONG!' or even worse, she'd start stuttering on full volume 'I SAY I SAY I SAY DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG'. GENUINE heart failure territory. Like FOR GODS SAKES BERENICE STFU!!!

Me being me, I forgot how I'd changed the setting to be her voice... And also at this point, I should add, the switch on the side to stop her talking stopped working.

I must assume murdering me in cold blood via jump scares just wasn't working fast enough for her because for a while she stopped.

All seemed well in the land of Starfleet Witch but unbeknownst to me, Bernie was plotting something bigger. Something she knew would REALLY insta kill me.

I started working from home for a bit and randomly about a week in, she did it again... Except this time she yelled 'EASY TIGER' and that was it. Nothing seemed out of place, she never spoke again after that. Everything was fine for a couple of weeks.

Until last week (AKA THE WEEK THAT NEVER ENDED.)

I'd been in an anxious spiral. Shit was happening IRL and I was TERRIFIED of the future. She saw this weakness in me, witnessed first hand how on the edge I was and decided, like the spiteful cunt she is, that now was the time to hatch her brilliant plan.

Wednesday morning. I had a deadline. 9:30am arrived... But my computer wouldn't turn on. I rang for help, I had switched it on and off many times... Nothing. 10:30am rolled around. I unplugged everything, had the very guts of my computer spread out across my floor praying it would be an easy fix... Nothing. At the 11th hour, I plugged everything back in and tried to turn it on again, constantly pressing F8 to reboot it and miracle of miracles, it worked! I downloaded some software to test the hard drive health, did some diagnostics and everything seemed fine. Better than fine. The computer was HEALTHY AF! So I prayed it may have been just a one off glitch.

It wasn't.

In fact my computer repeated its issue of booting up every morning after that, an expense I couldn't afford to fix any time soon but I NEEDED the computer for work.

Friday morning rolled around, I unplugged everything, held the very heart of my computer in my hands trying to find a loose connection or SOMETHING. Nothing. Everything was fine. Dejected, this time when I tried to turn the computer on, I only plugged in the power cable, screen and keyboard.

It worked first try.

And that's when I FINALLY got suspicions.

Over the weekend I decided to do some experiments. I tried plugging in different things I hadn't plugged in when I last tried switching it on and low and behold it wouldn't turn on when Bernie TARDIS was plugged in.

And that dear friends is when I decided aging 40 years in the space of days over a joke isn't actually funny and that I'd CLEARLY wronged a god somewhere along the way, for what crueller punishment could they bestow upon me than to have my very muse almost kill me via an anxiety induced heart attack?

TLDR:

I haven't found out how yet but my TARDIS with Bernie's voice clearly got possessed by a disgruntled spirit insisting on making my life a living hell and now it's in quarantine until I can cleanse it's soul and work out how to take it's voice away again.

Moral of the story: Don't give things Bernie Wolfe's voice, no matter how funny you think it'll be. Bolting upright in your bed because you heard Jemma Redgrave say "ding dong" at 3am isn't actually as pleasant an experience as you might think and when it happens several times, it's terrifying.

[swaps55]

Mezzo - 06 - Control

Pairing: mshenko | Rating: M Tags: Canon-typical violence, trauma, dealing with your problems poorly, body autonomy struggles   Summary: The twists and turns of ME2, through the eyes of everyone but Commander Shepard. Chapter Summary: Kaidan runs into a familiar face. Dr. Chakwas does some detective work. EDI is always watching. AKA, the chapter with EDI feelings you were not prepared for. Thank you @sinvraal for betaing!

Chapter 6: Control | Read on Ao3

04 November 2185, Rosetta Nebula, Enoch System, Joab

As alien planets go, Joab is nice enough, but the best part about it is there are no geth to be seen.

“Incoming!” Pendergrass yells, barreling into Kaidan and flinging them both behind a rock fractions of a second before a grenade detonates.

No geth, but plenty of Blue Suns mercenaries.

Kaidan hits the ground hard, but the pain in his shoulder is a lot more manageable than the side effects of a thermite-coated grenade would have been.

“Get ready to eat your own dick, fucker,” Aslany growls from somewhere behind and to their left, seconds before her light-refracting cloak drops with a shimmer, and the batarian who threw the grenade gets a sniper bullet between his teeth.

Pendergrass laughs as she rolls off Kaidan, palms one of her owngrenades and loads it into the launch rail of her pistol. “Mine’s better,” she hollers as she aims and fires at the last two guarding the barricaded bunker door.

The EMP grenade erupts in a shower of arcing electricity, followed by dismayed cries. Two pulls of Aslany’s trigger and the door is no longer guarded.

The bunker they’re trying so hard to get into is unremarkable in all ways save the prothean signature buried somewhere inside it.  

“Let’s see what the hell they found in there,” Kaidan mutters, heading for the bunker. One of the batarians stirs on their way past. Aslany whips out a pistol and fires it through his faceplate without breaking stride.

Kaidan eyes her but says nothing. Better to wait and ask how she’s doing when she’s unarmed. Besides, he doesn’t want to talk about Shepard anymore than she does.

Pendergrass waves a hand with a flourish when she coaxes the door open. Resistance on the other side is surprisingly light, and they clear it without fanfare, to Pendergrass’ disappointment. What’s left is a hastily erected temporary quarters and haphazard lab equipment, all staged around a mining tunnel.

“Goto was right. These are definitely Hock’s goons,” Aslany says, nudging one of the cooling corpses with her boot.

“And they haven’t been here long,” Kaidan muses, scanning the disarrayed supplies.

“Who gets to go first into the creepy mining tunnel?” Pendergrass pipes up, hopeful.

Kaidan gestures for her to go ahead with a reluctant sigh. “Just don’t touch anything.”

“You’re no fun.”

She practically bounds into the tunnel, Aslany close on her six and Kaidan on Aslany’s. A few meters down the tunnel opens up into a larger chamber. 

Like the archives on Ilos, the air is musty, old, like time had taken a deep breath and just…stopped. The crumbling architecture shored into the excavated walls of the cavern doesn’t resemble Ilos any more than Therum had, but the sweeping curves of an innate, ancient computer interface are instantly familiar. 

“Prothean,” Kaidan murmurs.  

Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Mezzo Playlist

[tessatales]

Touch Starved ✨Yelena✨

Yelena x F!reader

Warnings: none really, touch starved Yelena (duh) mention of missing family (no death though!)

Theme: touch starved Yelena, grumpy lady, comfort found

A/N: wow, this series is over! Actually finished! And on my birthday to boot. I’ve honestly loved writing all of these fic, and I’m sure I’ll come back to a variation of it somewhere down the line but until then- thank you to everyone whose read these fics and I hope they bring you as much joy and they’ve brought me ❤️❤️

*Your POV*

‘Yelena’s acting strange’ Bruce murmured as you passed, pointing the tip of his pen behind him as he walked back to his office.

“Roger that.” You reply, straightening your spine as you walked into the towers main living area. Yelena was only a visitor to Avengers tower, although her access was nearly as unlimited as the residents that called this place home. (with only a few exceptions)

“Yelena! Long time no see!” You said with a grin, leaving your fist out for the ex assassin to bump.

“Tony banned me for the car incident” Yelena shrugged, taking a sip of her beer. You nodded with understanding.

“We’ll getting a limited addition vintage car towed for a joke probably wasn’t your best idea” You replied, snatching the drink from her to take a swig. Yelena shrugged, saying nothing.

When the silence stretched on longer than usual for the talkative Widow, you decided to speak up.

“Your particularly quiet today, what’s up” You prompted, knowing instantly that you’d hit a nerve when Yelena practically slams her beer onto the counter.

“See I don’t get you people!” Yelena growled, throwing her hands into the air before standing from her seat.

“Just because I’m not taking up every silence does not mean there’s something wrong” Yelena continued, shoving her stool angrily back into place before snatching her beer and stalking off.

You tried your best to not take the outbursts personally, though you could still feel the sting. You knew that Natasha was usually best at keeping Yelena’s moods in check, but with her off in deep cover gods knows where, you knew you’d just have to navigate these moments alone.

Yelena would calm down eventually, You thought with a sigh before trudging back to your own rooms.

*Yelena’s POV*

Yelena knew she’d fucked up. She’d felt the guilt the second she’d slammed Natasha’s bedroom door behind her. The second she’s been out of Y/N’s presence, her mood dipped and the anger she’d felt died in an instant.

Yelena wished she knew what was causing her mood, the outbursts becoming more and more frequent the longer Natasha was away. But she just couldn’t figure out why.

Of course she missed Natasha, she was her sister after all, but this growing anger since Nat’s departure just wasn’t adding up.

Armed with limited information, Yelena took to the towers best search engine, J.A.R.V.I.S.

“Why am I feeling this way?” Yelena said to the air, not bothering to say the AI’s name.

“I assume you are talking to me Miss Belova” J.A.R.V.I.S. replied, his voice forever patient. Yelena grunted.

“May I give you a solution based on an observation?” J.A.R.V.I.S. asked as he turned Natasha’s rooms computer system on.

“Go ahead” Yelena replied, wandering over to the screens. As she did, several articles on touch starvation and it’s effects began to pop up, each one explaining in depth the different side effected the issue could have.

“Huh” Yelena said, mumbling her thanks as she began to read.

*A Few Hours Later*

Yelena paced silently outside of Y/N’s door for what felt like a lifetime- after many hours of reading and arguing with J.A.R.V.I.S, Yelena had relented in her argument and accepted she had to do something.

Taking a final few steps, Yelena stepped up to Y/N’s door, tapping on it lightly as she contemplated what she was going to say.

*Your POV*

Groggy from your nap, You padded slowly to the door, your eyes barely focused as you opened it.

“I miss Natasha and it’s making me be a bitch” Yelena blurts. You blinked.

“Come in?” You replied, confusion colouring your sleepy voice. Yelena accepted, sliding past you to flop into your unmade bed.

“I was a bitch earlier and the Computer Voice says it’s touch starvation” Yelena continued, clearly unaware that you were basically still asleep.

“Okay…?”

Yelena sat up, finally taking in your sleepy appearance.

“Were you sleeping?” Yelena said with a little guilt, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

“I was, but don’t worry about it. So what does Natasha and touch starvation have in common?” You asked, coming to sit beside the assassin.

“Natasha is my sister. So obviously she tends to touch me more than anyone else” Yelena said, staring at her hands as she spoke.

“Go on?” You prompt, trying your best to sounds as reassuring as possible.

Well… when I’d have a bad night- or if we were just hanging out, Nat would usually stroke my hair or lay her legs on me while watching tv…” Yelena whispered, picking at her nails as she explained.

“And she’s been gone so long it’s affecting you emotionally- that lack of touch?” You finished, taking in the information slowly. Yelena nodded.

“Why didn’t you say something?” You asked exasperated, punching the assassin lightly on the arm before clambering up the bed and getting comfy.

“Ow! because I didn’t- what are you doing?” Yelena said, watching you with confusion as you lay the blankets beside you.

“I’m getting comfortable so we can nap together. Me and Nat do it all the time on the sofa” You replied, snuggling down with your arms outstretched, beckoning the ex assassin to cuddle with you.

After biting her lip for a while, Yelena seemed to give in, quickly sliding off her shoes before clambering up to lay in your arms, the blanket following soon after.

You were sure not to react to the audible sigh the assassin gave as she relaxed, her face seemed to involuntarily snuggled into your side as you adjusted to her weight.

Once comfortable, you placed one hand on Yelena’s head, moving your fingers in slow, circular movements as her blonde hair began to tangle between your fingers. The other rested lightly over her blanket clad waist.

The silence in the room was comfortable, with nether you or Yelena wanting to break the spell it had caused. Because of this, it took you a while to notice Yelena’s steady breathing and relaxed limbs. Only when her fingers began lightly twitching against your stomach did you realise she was asleep.

You weren’t going to wake her.

She’d finally opened up about something. And you weren’t going to break that intimacy. So you laid there in silence, still stroking the sleeping assassins hair.

Touch starved or not I’ll be here for you no matter what.

You thought as your eyes began to close, your hands slowing in Yelena hair until you eventually fell asleep yourself.

[bellygunnr]

Cold Hands

A KR08 piece. I forget which episode this is meant to tag, but it's just also trying to get into KITT3's head.

The command center, for once, is empty. Or as empty as it can be, with security protocol dictating that at least one member be occupying it at all times, especially in the dead of night. Tonight, it is Mike Knight as the lone sentry. A curious development-- a deviation, even, in his behavior. Perhaps Mr. Graiman's absence is an influence?

You ache to know. Silently, you switch on your scanner lights, upping the output until the stretch of the stone bunker you're facing is crimson. Mike's heart rate increases immediately. His breath, once even, hitches, and he turns to face you.

"I thought you were asleep," Mike says. "What's up?"

He abandons his post by pushing out of the chair and coming to stand by your fender. His left hand ghosts across your roof line, but the rest of him is held at arm's length. He looks strange, stretched out like that, like he's nervous to get close.

You consider drawing him in with humor. But the hour is late and he may be exhausted enough to grant you some mercy with your prying.

"You do not usually take the night shift," you say. "Particularly after arduous missions like today."

Mike tilts his head back. This is what he does, you know, when he is posed with a fact he wasn't expecting to confront.

"I just knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, KITT. I got a lot of guns pointed at me today."

Indeed.

You do not know how to compute that. He always has guns pointed at him. Up until this moment, you hadn’t considered it disturbed him.

"So you would have trouble sleeping," you surmise.

He smiles, head still tipped back, gaze fixed on the ceiling. His boots shuffle across the ground, bringing him closer to your chassis, which you start warming to the touch. The nanites are one of the few things that listen to you and you alone.

“Yeah. Yeah, but who doesn’t in this line of work?”

You briefly run the numbers. Not because his rhetorical question forces you to, but because you are curious. You only have organic data on the Graimans, Mike, and the few operatives blessed to have joined You previously. Sarah rarely sleeps soundly. Statistically, disturbed sleep is apparently common in “this line of work.”

Fascinating.

It is so utterly out of your control.

Yet you ache to be of assistance. You crunch ever more numbers and find yourself wanting. Mike leans more heavily against your body, until his torso is flat against your door, arms folded over your roof. He is warm. Perhaps he finds you warm, as well.

“You should rest here. I have been told my seats are quite comfortable.”

They should be, anyway. You can manipulate their form at will.

Mike laughs a little. It echoes. You capture the sound.

“Won’t I get in trouble for sleepin’ on the job, KITT? I thought you didn’t like it when I slacked off.”

You do not like it. His inability to focus on the job left you taskless and bored at the best of times. But just a month ago, he’d flatlined in your care, and just eight hours ago, he’d almost left you again. Conclusion: concessions must be made. Humans operate poorly when their needs are not met.

You open the driver’s door. Mike laughs again, hearing it, and strides around your hood. His hand drags lightly across your scanner cowling, sending reams of data through your processor. All of him leaves flashpoints of color across your matrix as he caves in to your plea and settles into the driver’s seat. 

Several unformed ideas and thoughts skim your brain. You dismiss them harshly.

“Good night, Mike,” you murmur into the sound system.

He mumbles something in acknowledgement, but he’s asleep the moment his head drops back against the seat.

[saintravioli]

It literally took all day to collect a single prescription for my mum;

Went down to boots pharmacy this morning, no pharmacist so nobody can get their prescriptions or any over the counter medicine.

Went down in the afternoon, queued for half an hour, turns out the pharmacy at the gp surgery had locked it so I couldn’t collect it from boots.

The pharmacy at the gp has no products on the shelves so I can’t get the prescription from there. It turns out I can’t phone them to ask them to unlock the prescription because their phone lines have been cut off because they didn’t pay the bill.

I have to drive up there, queue for another 20 minutes to ask them to unlock the prescription, then drive back down to boots to then ask them to prepare it.

Another 30 minutes later I finally have the prescription. There are several other people who I’ve seen travelling between both pharmacies (which are a 15 minute drive and 1 hour walk apart) to get their medicine. What the fuck are you supposed to do if you don’t have literal hours to spare.

People are being told they can’t have vital medicines because they’re not in stock or because the computer system has fucked up, after they’ve already been waiting days.

This country is a fucking shambles.