What did dylan have around his wrists in the picture of him and eric dead was it bracelets
Those silvery gray ‘bracelets’ were functional match strikers which the boys’ ingeniously cut from the side of a box of matches and taped together with silvery grey electrical tape, each bracelet had two strikers. They could easily light the fuses of their pipe bombs and other incendiaries in a very consistently accessible manner. In the boys’ usual symbolically contrasting yin/yang, aesthetic, Dylan being left-handed, wore his striker bracelet on his right wrist and Eric being right handed wore his striker on his left wrist. The ingenuity of their amateur invention was considered ingenious by the authorities.
Below: match striking strips cut from the side of a match boxes.
How viable are non-magical flaming weapons? Like, coating the sword with a flammable substance and then setting it on fire. Would the trouble be worth it for the increased damage? Would they be more dangerous for the yielder? Would the fire negatively affect the blade?
No. At least not, that example. Also flaming arrows are out. The physics involved mean they either self-extinguish on launch, or they’ll ignite the user (I don’t remember which, and I kinda think it’s the former.)
That said, there are a lot of historical and modern military applications for flame.
The modern examples that come immediately to mind are napalm, dragon’s breath shells, and Molotov cocktails.
Napalm is, basically, jellied gasoline. It will burn, it will stick when it lands, and it will keep burning. Set something on fire and watch it melt. Napalm is, quite frankly, pretty terrifying stuff, and while the exact chemical formula is recent, the concept of launching burning liquids at people is not, going all the way back to Greek Fire. No one is exactly sure what Greek Fire was, but it would burn, could be lobbed onto ships or people you didn’t like, while burning, and would not stop burning once it arrived.
Molotov Cocktails are a medium ground here. You load a bottle up with alcohol, use an alcohol soaked rag as a fuse, light, and throw. There’s a little bit more going on here though. Alcohol solutions are only directly flammable if they’re more than 50% alcohol by volume. Most hard liquor is around 80 proof (40%), but, the vapors put off by the solution are still flammable (down to around 20%, if I remember correctly). So you can use a bottle of vodka as an improvised incendiary device. (Fair warning, it’s been a long time since I took a chemistry class, so those exact percentages may be a bit off.)
In spite of being named after a Russian Revolutionary, the idea of setting something on fire and chucking it someplace is not a new concept.
I know you can launch flaming payloads with a trebuchet, put them roughly where you want them, and set the area on fire. I’m not 100% sure of the military history, but it was used for centuries. Anything that will break apart on impact will spread the flame over a decent area and get a good blaze going.
Hot shots originally referred to cannonballs that were preheated before firing, with the intention of it igniting enemy structures or ships. This isn’t something we still think about (outside of the term “hotshot” seeping into idiomatic usage), but it did work, apparently.
The modern equivalent would be incendiary ammunition. There’s a lot of variety here, and they range from phosphorous rounds, which will ignite on contact with moisture, including the moisture in the air, to dragon’s breath shells which eject a mixture of highly flammable metals, such as magnesium, or potassium, which will ignite on contact with moisture.
Phosphorous was also a popular component for incendiary grenades, mortars, and other explosives. For example, one of the US military’s versions of a Molotov in WWII was produced by dissolving phosphorous and rubber (as a thickener) in gasoline). This mixture would self ignite on contact with the atmosphere (when the glass broke).
One variant of modern incendiary grenades use a Thermite variant
to eject molten iron on detonation.
So far as it goes, most flare guns fire a 12 gauge shotgun shell. While the plastic ones won’t survive trying to put a conventional shell down range, the flare shell itself can result in horrific, and fatal, burns.
If you want a melee weapon to set someone on fire, you might be able to achieve that safely by heating the blade or using something like a thermal lance. The problem with simply coating a sword with oil and lighting it up is, they tend to drip. And, when you’re swinging the sword around, you’ll end up with burning oil getting splashed everywhere, including on the user. This is, “a very bad thing.”
Of course, shoving a torch in someone’s face is also a very bad thing, for them, and fits the definition provided.
So, the short answer is, yes there are a lot of real applications for setting someone on fire, especially when they’re all the way over there and walking is too much effort. Setting your own sword on fire is not a great idea, however.
we got all the ways to be wicked .
looks like this place could use a bit of misbehavior .
wanna try it ?
take a bite . ❜
be bold !
class is back in session !
mother always knows best .
with us evil lives on .
❛ let’s go !
what’s my name
all hands on deck !
i’m getting tired of the disrespect .
our sail’s about to be set .
what’s my name ?
soon the world will be ours .
i’m the queen of this town .
i call the shots .
bad girls have all the fun !
ready , here we come !
we always get our way .
all eyes on me , let me see ‘em .
i see your eyes on me boys .
chillin’ like a villain
everybody’s got a wicked side .
watch and learn so you can get it right .
you need to not stare .
you need to not be yourself .
you wanna be cool ? let me show you how !
you look like you would lose a fight to an alley cat .
you need to watch your back .
don’t make a sound !
i’m giving it my best shot .
it’s hard being what i’m not .
you’re gonna get us caught !
i think i found the worst in myself .
i didn’t know what you were going through .
i thought that you were fine .
why did you have to hide ?
i didn’t wanna let you down .
i would never stop you .
even though we’ve changed , nothing has to change .
i’ll never be out of reach .
nothing can stay the same .
be proud of all the scars .
i’ll never really leave you .
there are no words left to say .
this is not the end !
you’re part of who i am .
even if we’re worlds apart , you’re still in my heart .
we can meet in the space between .
it’s going down
let’s get this party started !
i swear i’m cold - hearted .
i’m not here for debating .
ask yourself how long you think i’ll remain patient .
let’s all just be smart !
your bark is much worse than your bite !
bring it on !
make your move .
your time is running out !
you should really watch your mouth .
it’s a do or die situation !
make one wrong move and i’ll debilitate him .
release him now !
we get it , chill .
we don’t have to light the fuse .
whatever you do it’s gonna be a lose - lose .
there’s gotta be a better way .
i promise i’ll give you your chance !
make the trade !
you and me
i thought i gave it everything .
it’s worth it in the end .
together we can change the world .
do you wish that you were something else ?
i promise we can work this out .
it’s up to me ! ❜
Summary:Sam has this habit of distracting you every time he comes to visit. Working out more, forgetting to wear a shirt, you know the drill. But what happens when he finds a way to distract you when you’re in class as well?
Word Count: 5187 (got a little carried away. Not sorry at all)
Warnings: Implied smut. Sam Fucking Winchester (let’s be honest here, he is a warning all in himself)
A/N: @dancing-the-hellfire-rumba‘s fic Sexy Bastard is the fic that started this whole thing. Seriously, as soon as I read her summary “Sam is a fucking tease, okay?” I knew that I was done for. I’ve been working on this for an entire week because it just had to be done. Also, perfect timing! Happy Birthday Sam Winchester, you tease!
“How about that
homework last night?” Jonathan asked, sliding into his normal seat beside you.
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Nelly groaned, turning in her chair
to talk to you two. “Lil and I worked on it for six hours and we still don’t
know if we did it right.”
“Right?” You agreed emphatically, getting war flashbacks to
your battles with the case study and your excel spreadsheet. “I swear, we
haven’t even learned half of the stuff it was asking us to do.”
Rhetta pushed her chair closer and you fought to hold back
your eye-roll. Here comes her self-righteous, better-than-you speech. “Actually,
we learned about the regression analysis last week, and it was just a hop,
skip, and a jump to answering question five from there.”
How about you just
hop, skip, and jump away from us?
❛ I see nothing in your eyes, the more I see the less I like. ❜ ❛ I know nothing of your kind. ❜ ❛ I won’t reveal your evil mind. ❜ ❛ So sacrifice yourself, and let me have what’s left. ❜ ❛ I know I can find the fire in your eyes. ❜ ❛ I’m going all the way, get away, please. ❜ ❛ You take the breath right out of me. ❜ ❛ You left a hole where my heart should be. ❜ ❛ You got to fight just to make it through. ❜ ❛ Cause I will be the death of you. ❜ ❛ This will all be over soon. ❜ ❛ Pour salt into the open wound. ❜ ❛ Is it over yet? Let me in. ❜ ❛ I’m waiting, I’m praying, realize, start hating. ❜
dance with the devil
❛ Here I stand, helpless and left for dead. ❜ ❛ Close your eyes, so many days go by. ❜ ❛ Easy to find what’s wrong. ❜ ❛ Harder to find what’s right. ❜ ❛ I believe in you. ❜ ❛ I can show you that I can see right through all your empty lies. ❜ ❛ I won’t stay long, in this world so wrong. ❜ ❛ Say goodbye, as we dance with the devil tonight. ❜ ❛ Don’t you dare look him in the eye. ❜ ❛ Trembling, crawling across my skin. ❜ ❛ Feeling your cold dead eyes, stealing the life of mine. ❜ ❛ I won’t last long, in this world so wrong. ❜
❛ Milk it for all it’s worth. ❜ ❛ Make sure you get there first. ❜ ❛ The apple of your eye; the rotten core inside. ❜ ❛ Things couldn’t get much worse. ❜ ❛ I’ve had it up to here, know your end is near. ❜ ❛ You had to have it all, well have you had enough? ❜ ❛ You greedy little bastard, you’ll get what you deserve. ❜ ❛ I will be the one to leave you in your misery and hate what you’ve become. ❜ ❛ You should have learned by now; I’ll burn this whole world down. ❜ ❛ I need some peace of mind. ❜ ❛ You think you’ve won this fight, you’ve only lost your mind. ❜ ❛ Hold me down; I will live again. ❜ ❛ Heaven help you. ❜
i will not bow
❛ Save your breath, it’s far from over. ❜ ❛ Leave the lost and dead behind. ❜ ❛ Now’s the chance to run for cover. ❜ ❛ I don’t want to change the world; I just wanna leave it colder. ❜ ❛ Light the fuse and burn it up. ❜ ❛ Take the path that leads to nowhere. ❜ ❛ All is lost again, but I’m not giving in. ❜ ❛ I will not bow; I will not break. ❜ ❛ I will shut the world away. ❜ ❛ I will not fall; I will not fade. ❜ ❛ I will take your breath away. ❜ ❛ Watch the world through dying eyes. ❜ ❛ Show me where forever dies. ❜ ❛ And I’ll survive, paranoid. ❜ ❛ I have lost the will to change. ❜ ❛ And I am not proud, cold-blooded fake. ❜ ❛ Open your eyes! ❜
Maybe call the cops? I mean I know the story seems implausible but you've got a bunch of very credible doctors right there, eye witnesses.
“I’ve been on the phone with a 911 operator since the mirror broke. They’re downstairs trying to overwrite the security system.” Jenna says quickly, her arm firmly around Christine.
“The reception is getting screwed too, Michael’s squip is taking over everything-” Christine is interrupted by a loud, horrible sounding scream.
Michael’s scream alerts half the floor. His squip is running contentious shocks through him as a attempt to stop the glass in his hand from moving to his neck. In the process of charging Michael with so much electricity, a fire is started when Michael backs against the metal support bar, that on the inside of the wall, is touching cables to the light switch.
A fuse blows out, the bathroom fills with smoke. Michael is once again, in the bathroom by himself.
Anders is sometimes accused of being a terrorist, which is interesting, since the game provides multiple examples of actual terrorists as a counterpoint. I don’t think the idea is entirely the fault of the audience, as Bioware is clearly aware of the current cultural association between exploding buildings and terrorism, and I know some of the writers made comments in that direction. But if that’s what they were going for, it’s one of those places where authorial intent failed utterly.
They seem to have forgotten that the defining feature of terrorism isn’t violence (although of course by its very nature it is often violent) but fear. It’s right there in the word, but even so.
When Anders blows up the Chantry in Act 3, it is not meant to inspire fear. It’s not a threat: ‘Let us go, or this is what we will do to you’. If it were, it would be a pretty bloody useless one. Though, of course, magic is used to light the fuse the primary weapon is gaatlok – gunpowder. He is incredibly secretive about the formula – even Hawke, helping him, doesn’t know he also needs charcoal – and has no expectation of surviving the act. Repeating it would be a pain in the arse. Anybody who wanted to would have to start from scratch.
Rather, it is a public demonstration of the helplessness of the mages. He commits a very public crime. And it immediately becomes clear that no authority figure is even slightly interested in dealing out justice. Hawke can kill him, if they are so inclined. But if they don’t, no one is going to force them to. You can be a completely pro-Templar Hawke and waltz into the Gallows with Anders in your party to participate in the Rite of Annulment, and the Templars do not call the whole thing to a halt – because, hang on, here is the actual perpetrator.
It is an excuse to do what they were planning to do anyway. They’d find an reason, one way or another, regardless of Anders’s actions. But this one is handy. Meredith claims that her hand is forced because the city would demand vengeance. Would it? Maybe. We never find out. It does, however, tell us how Meredith plans to spin the attack. The mages were always going to be victims of her fear and her power grab. This just makes it visible.
The people who really do deliberately inspire terror in Kirkwall are the Chantry. Meredith has been ruling the city through threats of violence for decades:
Meredith’s message was clear: remember who holds the power in Kirkwall. Remember what happened to Threnhold when he overreached. To drive home her point, she presented Marlowe with a small carven ivory box at his coronation. The box contained the Threnhold signet ring, misshapen, and crusted with blood. On the inside of the lid were written the words ‘His fate need not be yours’.
World of Thedas II
She’s also practising on the mages in the Gallows – three Starkhaven mages are made Tranquil at random, just to demonstrate to the prisoners in the Circle that it is within her power to do this. By Act 3, of course, she’ll have expanded her reach further, using her Templars to harass and assault Kirkwall’s citizens.
But, until Act 3, Meredith is something of a background figure. The ultimate villain lurking behind the scenes. The clearest foil for Anders is Petrice.
Here, then, is our actual terrorist. Petrice’s end goal is violence: she wants the people of Kirkwall to take on the Qunari. Of course it wouldn’t end there. There would be a war, and an Exalted March and (in her head – almost certainly not in reality) the crushing of the Qunari by the might of the righteous Chantry.
And her method is inspiring fear. Her assaults are relatively small, but calculated to make each side think of the other as violent, dangerous and evil. She’s arranged for the murder and mutilation of Qunari before: the bodies left for Arvaarad to find, so he would think Hawke and the Saarebas were responsible. She’s used poison gas on her own people (it would have been blackpowder, had she been able to get her hands on any) in an attempt to frame the Qunari. Here, she has arranged for the torture and murder of a Qunari delegation, to demonstrate to the Arishok how far the ‘faithful’ will go to be rid of the Qunari. Eventually, she will have a high-status Qunari convert murdered so she can use his death as propaganda.
Everything Petrice does is designed to frighten people. There’s a threat behind every strike: If we don’t fight the Qunari, look what they'll do. Each act of violence is aimed at inducing a panic response – in the full knowledge that, eventually, people will be frightened enough to make war.
The contrasts are numerous: Anders is a commoner, a Fereldan (in addition to the whole mage thing), and at present living in the sewers. Petrice is apparently of noble Orlesian stock (so says The World of Thedas), and belongs to the most powerful institution in Kirkwall. The first quest actually makes a point of this: while the people of Darktown rally around their healer and Anders is quite at home there, Petrice, a Chantry sister supposedly responsible for the wellbeing of Kirkwall, is painfully out of place even in Lowtown. Moreover, whereas the underground falls apart around Anders, Petrice is a rising star – a Sister when Hawke first meets her, a Mother by Act 2. Where Anders’s plan requires that he take the blame for his actions, Petrice does everything she can to shield herself – she always works through agents, and here she sells out her own accomplice.
The common ground is a fervent belief in a cause, and at some stage (right off the bat for Petrice; in the endgame for Anders) a belief that violence is the only way to move forward.
And in the cause lies the important contrast.
Anders’s plan is only of value if he’s right. He’s not trying to inspire fear. It’s knowing that the fear is already there that prompts him to act as he does. If he’s wrong and the Circle and Templars are not oppressive institutions designed to control and brutalise mages – then he gets hauled off to prison (and no doubt subsequent execution), and nothing happens to the other mages. Once the Chantry blows up, he can’t lose. It doesn’t matter whether he lives or dies. It doesn’t matter whether Hawke saves the Circle or helps destroy it. The Templars do hold innocent mages accountable for something they had nothing to do with. The word goes out that the Annulment of the Kirkwall Circle was unjust. The Templars impose harsh restrictions on mages of other nations, who had even less to do with all this than the Kirkwall mages – and Fiona seizes her chance.
Point pretty well made.
Petrice, though, is trying to control people’s actions through fear. She is trying to make the people of Kirkwall think the Qunari are a terrifying threat, while still making them think they can take them in a fight. She is using fear to manipulate people, without any regard for the truth. By the time the Qunari uprising begins, Petrice is either dead or disgraced, making her a personal failure. But the uprising itself demonstrates how painfully wrong she was. A small, depleted Qunari force takes control of the city in a matter of hours. No fight, no war, with the Qunari is ever going to be easy – and one that started in Kirkwall would almost certainly result in the loss of the city. It turns out that the Qunari were easy prey for her before this because they didn't want to fight.
And that shreds her other argument. She has been depicting them as unthinking savages. Terrifying in their brutality, yes, but so inherently less than Chantry folk (specifically humans), that they cannot help but lose. But the truth is that they have thought about this. The Arishok has been trying to avoid bloodshed. The Qunari troops have resisted provocation to a heroic degree. The Qun is what it is, and certainly no better than the Chantry. But the Qunari – the horned people who make up the majority of its adherents – are not monsters, just people like any other. Big, strong people who could have wreaked havoc a hell of a lot earlier, had they not been trying to keep the peace.
It’s easy to make people afraid, particularly if you’re willing to lie and kill to do it. But if that’s all you’ve got to work with, you’re pretty well screwed. And, well, there you go. Terrorism. Inspiring fear in order to achieve political ends. That’s Act 2′s story.
(Context: Same group as Poke Out His Eyes and Take Off His Leg. Our group has a split party because two of our members have jobs that make them unavailable during the month of January. As a result, I’ve been running the rest of the group through side stuff that doesn’t have any impact on the main story.
In this instance, the party has taken a contract to rid a cistern of its gelatinous inhabitants. Our Druid has cast Spider Climb on our Beastmaster Ranger, who has spent the entire battle creatively dropping explosives into the Cubes. She also has a homebrewed magic item called the Bag of Useful? Items.)
BM Ranger: I have a pair of fuzzy slippers from my bag of useful items. I would like to light a pop, wedge it into one slipper, flip the other slipper around and fit them together and drop them in the cube so that the fuse has enough air to finish once its in there.
DM (me): Okay. Roll a ranged attack.
BM Ranger: (success, rolls damage for the pop - 1d8 fire)
DM: Okay, you quickly light the fuse, wedge the slippers together and drop them. The slippers and their cargo are sucked into the Gelatinous Cube. A second later, the pop goes off. You see a flash of fire, and the Cube’s sides bow out with the force of the explosion. Congratulations, the Gelatinous cube was briefly on fire, and now sits below you, quivering like jell-o. Tiny bits of blue fluff litter its insides, remnants of the slippers.
139 “Kiss me.” 138 “Don’t argue. Just do it.” 1 “Oh eff you!” “I know you would.”
“Leave it to my sister to run from all her problems,” (Y/N) whispered to Carlos as they walked around the Isle to Mal’s old apartment. Evie, Jay, Carlos, and (Y/N) had just told Ben how to blend in as a villain and then decides to bump into Gaston’s son, Gil.
“We’re here,” Evie cut off their conversation as she threw a rock at the sign. “All the way up, good luck,” she whispered to Ben as he ascended the stairs. (Y/N) looked around as they waited for Ben and Mal to come down the stairs. Being the youngest daughter of Maleficent had its ups and downs. Since King Ben had only wanted to take four children to Auradon, and Mal was the oldest she was chosen while (Y/N) was left to rot on the Isle. She made do, however, running around with Hades’ son, Hadie, and Diego De Vil, Carlos’ cousin. She was surprised she was never approached by any of Mal’s enemies, but that’s probably because they were scared Mal would come back to the Isle and hurt them.
While waiting for Ben a couple kids stopped here and there to see if it was really Evie, Jay, and Carlos, (Y/N) snapped at every one of them and drove them off. (Y/N) sighed as she stared up at where she knew Ben and Mal were talking at the moment. Soon enough they heard footsteps and Ben came down first, “So…” Evie said expectantly. “Where’s Mal?”
“She’s not coming,” Ben said sounding heartbroken and defeated as he walked away. Evie looked up before going over to the pipe they used to communicate from the warehouse and the ground.
“Mal, it’s Evie, just let us talk for a minute,” she whispered.
Mal yelled for her to go away and (Y/N) stomped over taking the pipe from Evie’s hands. “Listen up, sis. If you don’t get down here right this minute your little sis is gonna show you what an extra month on the Isle can do to you.” Her voice was harsh, but (Y/N) was ticked off and wasn’t playing around anymore. She got the go away yell too.
“Let’s just give her a couple hours to cool off,” Jay said and put a hand on Evie and (Y/N)’s shoulders.
“Uh, guys,” Carlos turned to them. “Where’s Ben?” he asked and they all looked down the dark alley where Ben disappeared. As Evie starts yelling for Ben a figure appears to walk towards them.
“Ben, don’t scare us like that.” Evie sighed and put a hand over her chest.
“Don’t scare you?” the figure drew closer, revealing it wasn’t Ben at all, it was Harry Hook. “That’s my specialty,” he let out a crazed giggle and looked around at the group.
“Harry! What did you do with Ben?” Evie asked.
“Um, we nicked him. Mhm. And if you want him, have Mal come to the Chip Shoppe, alone.” He looked over at Jay. “Aw, Jay, it seems you’ve lost your touch.” Jay went to lunge for him before getting pulled back by Evie, letting out a giggle at the attempt. He looked over at Carlos, letting out a bark before blowing a kiss to (Y/N) and turning around, starting to whistle ‘Chillin Like A Villain’ as he went.
Jay started to climb up to Mal’s apartment, Evie and Carlos choosing to take the stairs instead. “You guys get Mal to go, I’ll have the backup with me next time you see me.” Making a quick trip to the Underworld-esque home of Hades and Hadie, dragging the blue-haired boy along as they stopped at the other De Vil home, grabbing Diego.
“Come along boys, we’ve got work to do.” (Y/N) gave them both a devilish smirk grabbing some old spray paint cans.
When Mal, Evie, Jay, Carlos, and their Auradon friend, Lonnie, showed up at the docks they were greeted by a wild sight. Horns of Maleficent, Crowns of the Evil Queen, Black and White Patterns of the De Vils, and Lamps of Jafar were spray painted on Uma’s ship.
“They’re here!” They heard Gil yell and saw Harry drag a couple people over to the dock. Ben and a gagged (Y/N), yeah her backup had abandoned her.
“Finally!” Uma yelled with a delighted jump. “Huh! Let’s get this party started, I swear I’m cold-hearted. There’s no negotiation I’m not here for debatin’. You need some motivation? Just look at Ben and (Y/N)’s faces then ask yourself how long you think I’ll remain patient! I’ll throw them overboard and let them swim with killer sharks! You either hand over the wand or they’ll be ripped apart!”
“Now let’s all just be smart, although for you that must be hard. You’ll get your wand—no one has to come to any harm! Don’t try to intimidate, your bark is much worse than your bite. Who’s the baddest of them all? I guess we’re findin’ out tonight!” Mal sang, a glint of fury in her eyes as she saw her younger sister be dangled over the edge.
“Let’s go! Bring it on! Better give us what we want! It’s the wand for the crowns! If you don’t it’s goin’ down!” The pirate crew sang watching as Harry drew (Y/N) closer to the edge than Ben.
“Let’s go! Make your move! Peace or war, it’s up to you. Give them up and do it now! If you don’t it’s goin’ down!” The VKs (and Lonnie) sang.
“We want the wand! Or else they will be gone! Your time is runnin’ out! You should really watch your mouth!” The pirates sang.
“Let’s go! Pound for pound! We’re prepared to stand our ground! Put your swords up, put ‘em up! It’s goin’ down!” The VKs sang.
“Yo, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! Make the trade! Yo, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! Or walk the plank! Yo, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! Uma, Uma, Uma - la - la - la! Make the trade! Yo, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! Uma, Uma, Uma - la - la - la! Or walk the plank!”
Gil jumped down onto the deck and gestured Uma’s arrival back to the front. Uma was now face-to-face with Mal once again.
“Okay, look, this is not a conversation, it’s a do-or-die situation! If you don’t give them back to me, I’ll have no hesitation! I’ll serve you right here, and I don’t need a reservation, that way your whole pirate crew can have a demonstration! Release them now, and we can go our separate ways… Unless you wanna deal with me and the VKs?” While Mal was singing Harry had abandoned holding them at the plank, leaving Gil there instead.
“So that’s your big speech, huh? An empty ultimatum?” Uma tapped Harry’s chin as if giving him permission to speak.
“All it takes is one swing and I’ll humiliate them, matter of fact, make one wrong move, and I’ll debilitate them, and if they even starts to slip, I’ll eliminate them! All it takes is one wrong look and I'll—” Harry was cut off by Uma grabbing him by the hook and pulling him back.
“Harry! We get it. Chill.” Harry blew a kiss to Mal as he walked back to the plank where Ben and (Y/N) were.
“Let’s go! Bring it on! Better give us what we want! It’s the wand for the crowns, if you don’t it’s goin’ down!” The pirates sang.
“Let’s go! Make your move! Peace or war, it’s up to you Give them up and do it now if you don’t it’s goin’ down!” The VKs sang.
“We want the wand or else they will be gone! Your time is runnin’ out! You should really watch your mouth!” The pirate crew sang as Harry twirled Ben and (Y/N) around.
“Let’s go! Pound for pound! We’re prepared to stand our ground! Put your swords up, put ‘em up! It’s going down!” Mal threw her hand up, a gesture for Carlos to hand her the wand.
Carlos handed Mal the decoy wand, of course, Ben and (Y/N) didn’t know it was fake and (Y/N) immediately gestured for Ben to do something since she couldn’t speak.
“Hey, we don’t have to choose! We don’t have to light the fuse, Mal, whatever you do, it’s gonna be a lose-lose there’s gotta be a better way, Uma, I promise I’ll give you your chance, you’ll have your say!” Ben pleaded for his and (Y/N)’s sakes as Uma drew her sword up.
“Silly king! You? Give me? You’re gonna give me a chance? Well, not a chance!” Uma yelled pointing her sword at them as Harry leaned his head on (Y/N)’s shoulder, casting them a wicked grin.
“Yo, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! Make the trade! Yo, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!Or walk the plank! Yo, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! Uma, Uma, Uma - la - la - la! Make the trade! Yo, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh !Uma, Uma, Uma - la - la - la!”
“Or walk the plank!” Uma grinned at Mal as she held her sword and Mal held the wand. “Give me the wand!” She yelled their song obviously over now.
“Give me them!” Mal yelled back as she stared at Ben and her sister. Uma looked at Mal and then Harry, seeing the way his eyes slightly drifted to the younger Maleficent child.
“Harry!” She called as he dragged them over, dropping them to their knees in front of Mal. Mal held out her hand for them and Uma held hers for the wand. “Harry,” Uma said again as the young pirate sighed and drew his sword to cut the ropes.
“I never get to have any fun!” Harry said with two quick swings upwards the ropes cut off, he used his hook to cut the gag in (Y/N)’s mouth. Ben and (Y/N)’s hands shot forward to grip Mal’s hand as Uma grabbed the wand. Mal hoisted them to their feet and exclaimed that they needed to move now.
(Y/N)’s eyes lock with Harry’s as Uma tries to break the barrier with the fake wand. Seeing as it didn’t work Uma yells out and snaps the fake wand in half.
A swordfight ensues not even moments later as Mal and Carlos start throwing colored smoke bombs at the ship. Jay threw everyone a sword as the pirates started swinging off the ship right into the fight.
Uma went directly for Mal, Gil went for Ben, Harry went for Jay, and the others were fighting random pirates. (Y/N) was near Jay and Harry’s fight she quickly finished off the pirate she was fighting with by kicking him back into the water. She jumps onto the deck above where they were fighting, seeing Jay be pushed against the railing by Harry.
“Harry!” (Y/N) yelled out, a bit desperate for her friend to not be hurt. It caught him off guard for a moment and Jay held the hook in his hand as he kicked Harry backward, his hook still connected to the end of his sword.
Harry looked back at (Y/N) for a moment, then dropped his sword and beckoned for the hook. Jay, however, had other plans as he went to the side railing and dropped the hook into the waters below. Harry didn’t even think twice as he grabbed his sword and dropped into the waters below after it. (Y/N) ran to the side to look in the waters below, seeing the red of his coat swimming to the other side where Uma was standing.
(Y/N) ran over to where Lonnie was fighting and joined in with her watching as Harry called out to Uma to help him up and she did without a second thought. (Y/N) let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding before she saw Uma go for Mal and Harry go for Ben.
Somewhere during the fight after they threw their last smoke bomb, Mal and Ben managed to get away and Carlos, Evie, Jay, and Lonnie ran through the tunnel back to where their limo was parked. Ben called out for Mal and she looked back to her sister who was holding off a couple pirates. “Mal! Just go!” She yelled out to her older sister, kicking back one of the pirates that got too close. Mal didn’t move from the beginning of the tunnel so (Y/N) took matters into her own hands as she kicked the walkway between the tunnel and ship, letting it fall into the waters below.
“(Y/N)!” Mal yelled as Harry Hook appeared behind her and grabbed her around the waist and tugging her back, the swords falling as she went. Mal took one last look at her sister, her yelling for Mal to go, and turned around running back to the limo.
The dungeon on the ship was damp, dark, and cold. (Y/N) took to the floor instead of the uncomfortable mattress they kept in there. It was quite in the cell except for the creaks the ship made as it rocked back and forth. Suddenly a low whistle of ‘The Elegant Captain Hook’ filled the cell and (Y/N)’s eyes drifted from the floor to the bright blue eyes of Harry Hook. He gave her a wicked smile, the mania obvious in his eyes.
“It’s a shame we had to lock ye up, las. But ye cost us our king, our ticket to freedom, not just for us… no, it was for everyone stuck on this cursed island, including ye,” his eyes shined with disappointment. He went to kneel down in front of her. “Ye know I just want what’s best for ye, las.” He placed a hand on her cheek and she leaned into his touch.
“Are you okay?” she asked him, a small frown on her face. His eyes held immense confusion, but before he could ask what she meant she answered for him. “You went in after your hook, you didn’t get hurt by anything in the water, right?” He slowly nodded at her.
“I’m fine, princess,” he assured her as he pulled her into his lap. (Y/N) turned to look at him, nuzzling her face into his shoulder.
“Harry,” she whispered and he turned his head slightly to look at her. “Kiss me.” Harry’s grip on her tightened on her as his eyes widened.
“No, ye need rest, (Y/N), yer not in your right mind state, love. We can talk again when yer rested up nice and well,” he went to lift her and place her on the mattress but she protested and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.
“Don’t argue. Just do it.” It wasn’t a request anymore, she meant it as a demand. Harry gave one of his crazed giggles and leaned down, leaving centimeters between their lips.
“On second thought…” (Y/N) growled at him and smacked the back of his head.
“Oh eff you!” Harry laughed.
“I know ye would.”
That was all they said before Harry connected their lips for a short sweet kiss, content with each other’s presence. Harry laid down on the mattress, shifting uncomfortably before placing (Y/N) on his chest, at least she could sleep well tonight.
[I’m sorry for any mistakes in this I didn’t proof read it. Also, I’m incredibly proud of myself for writing this, I got about 2000 words in before I remembered what I was supposed to be putting. Sorry if it seems just there, so yeah, hope you enjoy!]
//Well here it
is, how I went with what the request was. It ended up being longer than I anticipated, but I hope y’all like it.
beginning might be sad, but it has a fluffy+happy ending. Death,
murder, mild swearing.
Need to know: This
is insinuated, but not completely said in the story: Y/n was really close
friends with Jerome, and a member of the Maniax. Also, it sort of starts right
when Jerome is murdered?
Oh they say people come, say people go
This particular diamond was extra special
And though you might be gone, and the world may
Still I see you, celestial
Y/n’s mouth drops open as an agony filled scream claws
its way out of her throat, rising over everyone else’s. She pushes herself out
from behind the curtain where Jerome had told her to stay and she crashes to
the ground next to him. She places her hands on either side of his face as his
eyes meet hers, a disturbing, gurgling laugh bubbling from the back of his
throat. Blood pools out of his mouth, trickling down the side of his face.
Jerome’s eyes glisten, wider than they had ever been. His mouth closes, and opens,
his lips trying to form words that he can barely manage to make audible.
“Y…y/n.” She shakes her head quickly, tears filling her
eyes. He had already wasted enough of his energy.
“Jerome, no.” When his gaze meets Theo’s, who stands
above him, y/n’s heart breaks even more. In his eyes is pure pain and betrayal.
His eyes become moist with unfallen tears as he coughs softly. Theo shakes his
“I’m sorry Jerome,”
“You…you said….” Jerome’s mouth closes as more blood
falls out, and he swallows roughly, only to choke weakly on his blood. “…you
said….I was going….to be a …s…t…ar…” It only takes a few seconds for his head
to fall back, his mouth tilted up in a smile, his eyes open wide. His beautiful
green-blue eyes glaze over as the life leaves his body, his last breath coming
out in a soft, weak, wheezy laugh.
A single tear falls from y/n’s eyes as Barbara moves over
quickly, pulling her up.
Y/n shouts, pointing at Theo. “You sick bastard,
you killed him!” Barbara drags her
backwards as her gaze meets with Theo’s. “I’m going to kill you, I’m going to make you suffer,
you piece of-” her shouts are silenced by the shouting of the crowd. Y/n’s gaze
meets Bruce’s and she laughs. For the longest time as Barbara is pulling her
out of the building, her loud, maniac laughter silences everyone. Everyone
freezes as the unstable laughter echoes through the room.
Even after Barbara put’s y/n into the car that Tabitha
had waiting, she still laughs. Yet her laughter is softer now, raspier. Tabitha
glances in the rearview mirror to look at y/n.
“She okay?” She asks, glancing at Barbara. Barbara shakes
“Theo killed Jerome…he killed him, Tabs.” Tabitha tilts
her head, slamming her foot down on the gas.
Y/n’s laughter continues, but it slowly turns into sobs,
which grow louder and louder. She covers her face with her hands, her whole
body shaking as she cries.
“That…son of a…I’m going to kill him…he,” she hiccups,
and inhales shakily. “He killed Jerome.”
Like a lion you ran, a goddess you rolled
Like an eagle you circled, in perfect purple
So how come things move on, how come cars don’t
When it feels like the end of my world
When I should but I can’t let you go?
Y/n shuts her eyes tightly while Barbara holds her gently,
stroking her hair. She still shakes as she sobs, unable to control herself.
“He took him away,” she cries. “Theo betrayed him-he-he
killed him, he killed Jerome.” Tabitha sits down next to her, not knowing what
“You’re going to be okay,” she starts. “You’ll get over
thi-” Before Tabitha can even finish her sentence, y/n’s head snaps over to
her, her gaze meeting Tabitha’s quickly.
“How could you say that?” She shouts through her sobs. “You
have no right to say that! You don’t
know what it’s like! I’m not going to get
over this! How am I supposed to? How
am I just supposed to let him go!?” Both of them are stunned by y/n’s rage,
and Barbara attempts to pull her back into a hug, glaring slightly at Tabitha.
She gets off of the couch and turns to face them. “How can I just let him go!? I loved him, I loved him!” Tabitha and
Barbara stare at her, their hearts breaking when they see the pain on her face.
“Did you just…” Barbara stops Tabitha before she can
continue as Y/n’s expression morphs from pain to desperation and realization.
“I…I didn’t just say that!” She shouts helplessly,
backing away from Barbara’s offer of a hug. “I didn’t love him-I didn’t say
that…” Her voice trails off as she inhales deeply.
“Y/n, it’s okay if you-”
“I don’t! Okay? I don’t.” Y/n whispers, wrapping her arms
around herself. “I didn’t and I don’t, and I won’t ever.” She covers her face
and sighs, composing herself before letting her arms fall down to her side,
plastering a wide smile over her pained expression.
“Y/n…” Barbara says, tilting her head in concern.
“I’m fine.” She says, turning around. “I’m just tired, I’m
going to go to sleep.”
“Y/n, you can’t just ignore what you said-what happened.”
Barbara says softly, causing y/n to freeze.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says
“You said you loved him.” Tabitha says.
“No, I didn’t,” y/n’s words are not only trying to
convince them, but herself too.
“Why are you denying it? We can talk to you y/n. We can
“Because! Because as long as I never cared about him I
can’t miss him! As long as he wasn’t important to me, I won’t cry over him! I won’t feel like this anymore! I can’t feel like this! I won’t let
myself, I won’t let myself be like this! So, pathetic and so weak!” Y/n shouts,
her eyes filling to the brim with tears. She inhales deeply. “Now I’m going to
go to sleep.” She whispers, turning around. “And in the morning, we won’t
mention this.” Y/n moves into the bedroom quickly, slamming the door shut and
locking it behind her.
But when I’m cold, cold
Oh when I’m cold, cold
There’s a light that you give me when I’m in
There’s a feeling you give me, an Everglow
Like brothers in blood, sisters who ride
And we swore on that night we’d be friends til
But the changing of winds, and the way waters
She lays down on her bed, grabbing her
phone and opening the photos. She scrolls up until she comes across the picture
of Jerome she’d taken when he wasn’t paying attention. A cold, heavy weight
settles down on her chest as she stares at the picture. It doesn’t take long
for her vision to be distorted by the tears filling her eyes and she swipes
them away absent mindedly, a small, sad smile appearing on her face. Her
breathing slows as she stares at his face, his hair wild as he had just come
back from the rooftop. It had been the day they made their mark on Gotham, the
Maniax. It all seemed so unreal, so wrong that he was dead. Y/n almost couldn’t
believe it. A part of her was convinced that Theo would walk through these
doors anytime, Jerome in tow, no one dead. She was convinced he would hug her,
tell her it was all a joke, tell her it was a trick. That it wasn’t real, that
he was fine.
That he loved her.
Y/n pushes the thought out of her head
as she begins to scroll through her photos.
A small pang shoots through her heart as
she comes across a picture that they’d taken together, only hours before his death.
Life as short as the falling of snow
And now I’m gonna miss you I know
But when I’m cold, cold
In water rolled, salt
I know that you’re with me and the way you will
And you’re with me wherever I go
And you give me this feeling this Everglow
(Time skip to Jerome’s resurrection)
When Barbara and Tabitha finished telling y/n about the
Cult’s plan of bringing Jerome back to life, her reaction was duller than they
had expected. She simply cocked an eyebrow, a weariness appearing in her eyes
at the mention of his name. Barbara had hoped for the light to return to y/n’s
eyes when they had told her this. She frowns at y/n.
“Aren’t you excited? Jerome’s going to be back.” Barbara
says, giving y/n a huge smile. Y/n stares up at her and replies with a small
“You’d thought he would come back when Theo did. He didn’t.
What makes you think it’s going to be different now? The cult is saying they’ll bring him back, but they
can’t do shit. He’s not coming back, and I need to accept that.” Her voice is
dull and scratchy, as if she had just recently been crying.
“Y/n, they are bringing him back. Trust me, I know it.
They seemed very serious about this. Please, just trust me. Just have hope.”
What I wouldn’t give for just a moment to hold
Yeah I live for this feeling this Everglow
“Barbara, turn on the news, hurry!”
Tabitha shouts, running out from the next room. Barbara motions to the TV.
“See, that’s probably him rig-” Before
she can finish her sentence, y/n turs the television on, a audible gasp
escaping her lips when her gaze focuses on the screen.
testing……..am I alive? Am I on air? Can you hear me- ah, screw it let’s do it.
Hi. Some of you may know, I died. Oh, take it from me. Death. Is. Dull.” Y/n
jumps up, her heart racing.
“But coming back….that is
something. Leave it to dying to give you a whooole new perspective on life. And
I would like to share that with you. Ah, hello officer, you look terrible? Hey
you got, huh-ah. Tonight, Gotham, in the darkness, there are no rules. So,
tonight Gotham, do what you want, kill who you wan- ah, augh. And when morning
comes, you too shall be…reborn.” Jerome’s demented, hoarse laughter fills
y/n’s ears as he lights a fuse, walking over to the man he has tied to a chair.
“Oh, and uh….”
“Dwight,” the man supplies him with his
“I don’t forgive you for
my face.” His laughter
fills the room, still being able to be heard as he walks out of the room. A
slight pain fills y/n’s heart when he’s gone, but his face is burned into her
memory. Staples lined his face, as if it had been put back on, which she can
only assume the man tied to the chair had something to do with.
Before Barbara, Tabitha, or Y/n can say
anything, the lights turn out. Not just there’s; all the lights.
And once again, y/n is left in complete
So if you love someone, you should let them know
Oh the light that you left me will Everglow
It didn’t take long for them to figure
out where Jerome was. It was the only place lite up; a large, twisted circus.
Y/n had gone alone, and even as she entered the circus she didn’t regret it.
She ran head first, passing all the maniacs, all the murders that surrounded
her. Apparently, he had more of a following then they thought.
She shouts his name as she runs, her tears obscuring her vision. “Jerome!” Y/n’s
voice cracks as she chokes, trying to hold back her sobs. She doesn’t get far
before something trips her, causing her to fall face first into the dirt. She
tries to get up, but someone pins her down. “Let me go! Let me go you bastard!” She shouts, struggling to move
forward, only making it a few inches before she’s forced onto her back, a blade
touching her neck and just barely breaking skin. A warm drop of blood trickles
down her neck, and she closes her eyes, flashes of Jerome’s death playing
through her mind. “Please-” Whatever y/n was going to say is cut off by her
attackers screams, and a loud thud. Her eyes open instantly, and she sees
Jerome pinning the man down, staring at him with wide eyes, a dagger stuck in
the man’s stomach.
“Look at me,” Jerome croaks, yanking the
blade out only to shove it back in. “I
want to see you die,” He hisses. “I want to see your eyes, you realizing
what a mistake you made.” He leans in close, his gaze slipping over to you as
his smile widens cruelly. “She’s mine, and no one hurts what’s mine.” With
that, the man dies. Or maybe he was already dead. Y/n wasn’t paying attention
to him, her gaze was laser-focused on Jerome. He stands up, brushing himself
off with one hand and then pretending to smooth his hair down as he walks over
to y/n, pulling her up to her feet and placing one of his gloved hands on her
face. His eyes stare into hers as a look of wonder crosses his face. “I
remember you, y/n. You were the first thing I remembered…” He leans in closer,
placing his other hand firmly on her back and pulling her too him. “I remember
not being able to say everything I wanted- I remember not trying…I’m never
going to do that again,” he murmurs, his lips now only inches from hers. “I
love you y/n. I’m never going to leave you again, and you’re not going to be
leaving me anytime soon…right?”
“I-I won’t. I can’t believe you’re
alive, Jerome-” His permanent smile widens.
“Shh, y/n. Not now. Right now, I just… I
just want to,” his voice stops abruptly as he kisses y/n roughly, his eyes
closing instantly. Jerome breaks the kiss quickly though, causing y/n to sigh
softly. “I just wanna be with you.” He finishes. A blissful look crosses his
face as he tilts his head. “And now, after a year…after a year of nothing but
darkness and loneliness, I have you back.”
Kid you’ve got death hammered onto your knuckles like an omen, so tell me who put it there,
Kid, you’ve got a box full of matches in your back pocket, so tell me what’s gonna burn today,
Kid- are you listening?
I’m asking you a question- you’re recklessly loyal only to the crew, tell me why,
Stop flickering that smile like fire and look at me, listen close for once,
Why did you come here if you knew it would kill you?
Why did you come here if you knew it would burn?
Why are you so hell-bent on being the one to light the fuse?
Answer me, I’ve got you pinned to the table like a butterfly,
Hey kid, what’s up with the way you smile at the one way mirror?
Hey kid, how’d you slip your cuffs?
Hey kid, where’d you get that knife?
LEARNING TO READ THE ASHES AND OTHER VALUABLE INTERROGATION SKILLS
Request: the1theonlyshatayaty said: “Can u do a Harry hook
oneshot where she is Peter pans daughter and they were dating before she went
back to auradon and she goes with the VKs to help save Ben… Maybe a super
fluffy reunion Sorry if it doesn’t make any sense”
& (Because they were so similar)
said: “For a harry hook imagine, could you do one where the reader is Peter
Pan’s daughter (i honestly love the concept of it) and they go with the VK’s +
Ben to get Mal to come back, and something happens where they happen to meet
Harry?? (this is really vague but i dont really mind what you decide to do with
it) thank you!! ✨”
Summary: You’ve just begun to settle into life as an Avenger when a mission gone awry divides the team in half, and a familiar face shows up just in time to make you second guess your every choice. Third installment of the Worth Fighting For Series
Wedged in the back seat of the van, you stared hard at the floor at your shoes. Sam on your right, Steve on your left, you were trying to ignore the deep sense of dread bubbling in your stomach. Jaw clenched tight, you were unaware of their bickering as the van rocked back and forth, toward your destination. Where, you weren’t sure. Prison, if you were lucky.
“How long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?” T’Challa’s voice rang in the back of your head, his voice quiet but so loud inside your head.
“Hey.” Steve’s voice was soft in your ear and he nudged you with his shoulder, trying to get your attention. “What you did back there…”
Could we please get junkrat getting jealous of Mercy because reader keeps going to see her. Turns out reader is going for check ups as they are now pregnant by junkrat. Reader revels to him at the end its twins.
Thanks for the request! I love writing for Junkrat, my trash son.
Word count: 2080
Twice now you had done it. Two times in which you told your boyfriend that you couldn’t be with him because you had to go see Dr. Zeigler. And those were just the times you had a planned appointment, and not including the five times you were sick and gone to see her. At first he was worried something was gravely wrong with you–because why else would you be throwing up throughout the day without giving him a reason? No, he knew you must have just wanted to spend time with the kind doctor.
“What’cha think she’s doin’ Roadie?” he asked. He sat hunched over a table, chin resting on the metal as he poked at a bomb with one finger.
“Her business,” came the rumbled reply. He was reading a book beside the smaller Junker, mask on and turning pages quickly despite his narrow field of vision.
A whine escaped between Jamison’s teeth that turned into a loud groan. In a quick motion he flicked a match up and lit the end of the bomb’s fuse. He laughed as he watched it burn down until Roadhog reached over, never looking away from his book, and put the fuse out with his thumb and index finger. Another whine came from Jamison.
“What’s going on in here?” came your voice as you walked into the room. You were a little paler than normal, but you smiled. Jamison eyed you, knowing you had just been to see the doctor and questioning why you were smiling. Normally you only smiled for him like that, but lately it had been after your visits. He let his tongue slid over his teeth, arms crossed.
Your eyes fell from his pouting lips to the small round bomb on the table. “Jami, you know you can’t set things off in here. Just go to the blasting range if you want; that’s what it’s there for.” You came around the table and gave him a kiss on the cheek, thinking his pout was because of the bomb and nothing more. “We can go now if you want?”
He jumped at the idea, grinning wide. Grabbing your hand he practically dragged you to the blasting range outside, scarred with black marks and holes in every corner of the concrete. The wide area had been added in especially for Jami, after he set a few too many fires inside and even Roadhog had trouble keeping him under control during the long periods without a mission. You noticed someone had set up a few targets, most likely Roadhog, with omnic faces painted on them.
A box of frag grenades sat on a plastic table, along with a few other various explosives. You each fell into your usual rhythm, where you would light the match and fuse, and then he would throw the bomb out–sometimes it hit the target, sometimes it would “accidentally” go closer to the buildings. But with you there he normally behaved, and would watch you as much as he would watch the explosions. Today though, he didn’t feel like doing either. Today, he wanted to do something very different.
As you flicked the match and watched the yellow flame ignite, you held it out to Jami with a smile. As much as he loved to see your smile he gave you a pout and held up the bomb from earlier, watching it light the fuse. You waited for him to throw it at the first target, a large omnic head painted on, but he didn’t.
“Jami?” you asked, suddenly worried. There wasn’t much time before the fuse ran out.
“I’m not sure I feel like usin’ the targets, darl,” he said. “Why not blow something real up for once?”
“Jami you know–”
Before you could finish your thought, let alone your sentence, Jami tossed the bomb over his shoulder. It bounced twice before landing in a potted plant nearby, too close for your comfort. Your hand went to your stomach instinctively as the pot exploded, showering you both with dirt and the burning leaves of whatever was in there.
When Jami heard you shout though, he realized what he was doing. He didn’t think much about others getting hurt, not until he met you. And while there had been some mishaps, some minor scratches and bruises from you diving for cover, nothing he’d done had ever required you to scream or worse, require a doctor. But when he heard you cry out, and saw you duck, and pieces of the pot flew in your direction he felt as if his heart had stopped.
Jami quickly pulled you to the ground and covered your body with his, wrapping all around you. Sharp edges of the pot sunk into his skin, some small and some not so much. They tore into muscle, drawing blood quickly. He barely felt it at all, his body pumped full of adrenaline as he tried his best to protect you. When he knew the shrapnel was finished, and the world was quiet with settled dirt, he lifted back slightly to look at you.
“Oh, I’m so sorry babe,” he stated, tears springing to his eyes, “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry, I just don’t think. You know me, I just can’t think sometimes.” He swatted his head with his metal hand twice before you grabbed it.
“Jami,” you breathed, “it’s fine. I’m fine, are you?”
“No, no, no,” he mumbled, “not fine. Ya keep leavin’ me, I don’t like it. Can’t think straight without you.”
Jami stood, holding his hands out for you to help you up. Your eyes fell on the blood on his shoulder, a thick piece of clay pot sticking out of it. You said, “We can talk about that after you go see Angela.”
Jami couldn’t stop the groan crawl out of the back of his throat. When his nose crinkled you didn’t give him time to try and stop. So you kept hold of him and walked him to see Angela, your legs still shaky after the explosion. When you arrived she didn’t seem shocked to see you again.
“Was the medicine not enough, Y/N? Still nauseous?” she asked.
All you had to do was turn Jami around for her to understand. He’d gone to see her plenty of times for stitches and various remedies, but he never had such a scowl on his face. When you mentioned that you were there when it happened she immediately handed Jami off to a nurse to be patched up and attended to you. The perks of being friends with the doctor.
Jami wanted you to stay with him, if only to keep you away from Angela. You almost went with him until Angela insisted on a quick checkup after the scare.
Only when the debris was taken out of his back and shoulders did he get to see you again. But when the nurse pulled the curtain around your bed back, he wasn’t sure what he was seeing.
You lay on the bed, shirt up and tapping your fingers along the bed rail, staring at a photo in your other hand. You appeared nervous, he thought, and your stomach shone with some kind of gel on it.
“What’s this?” he asked. Had he really hurt you? He felt his eyes water at the very idea of it. Before he could start to pull at his hair and whine Angela turned to him and said, “She is fine. Just wanted to be safe since…” Her eyes fell on you.
“Since?” Jami prodded. His heart nearly stopped again with those words.
“Jami,” you said slowly, “I wanted to wait a bit to tell you this…just to…make sure everything was okay.”
He moved closer to you, quickly grabbing onto your hand with his human one, and holding your arm with his other. “You’re killin’ me here, darl. What is it, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, I just wanted to do something with you.” You nodded at Angela, who then placed the ultrasound probe on your belly. Jami watched, eyes wide and eager as he tried to understand what was happening.
Soon an image flicked onto the nearby screen that Dr. Zeigler was staring at with a smile, recognizing something there. You smiled too, but you kept your eyes on Jami. Eventually you could both hear tiny beats, the steady pumping of a little heart.
“Ya…” he said. His eyes focused on the black and white shape on the screen, the blurry image hard to make out. But Jami was a smart man, and while you hadn’t thought he’d ever seen an ultrasound before you knew he would find this out on his own. “Ya pregnant?” He looked at you, mouth agape. “With mine?”
You laughed and pushed the photo at him. “Yes, with yours!” Releasing you from his grip he stared down at the photo Angela had given you earlier that day, and then back at the screen. The heartbeats could still be heard, and Jami seemed to stall.
“Sounds like he’s got a fast heart,” he finally said. He kept looking between the screen and the photo.
“They’re perfectly healthy,” you replied, “both of them.”
Jami blinked at you. “Both?”
You smiled, tears coming to your eyes partly because you weren’t sure if Jami’s reaction was a happy one, and partly because you were hearing your baby’s heartbeats for the first time. “Yeah, twins. I wanted to wait until you knew to hear them for the first time.”
Expression still shocked, you couldn’t read him. Angela remained quiet. A tear began to slide down your cheek, thinking he wasn’t happy.
“Imma be a father,” he whispered. “Imma be someone’s daddy?” Neither you nor Angela had anytime to say a word as he shouted, “Imma be someone’s daddy!” He laughed loudly, nearly crushing the photo in his hands.
You let out a breath, seeing the huge smile on his face. You added, “Two someone’s.”
“Two,” he breathed. When he noticed the tears falling down your cheeks he leaned over and kissed you, wiping at your cheeks with his thumbs. The kiss was long, somewhat breathtaking as you tried not to cry any more. It must have lasted longer than you thought because you two only stopped when Angela cleared her throat. Jami was slower to pull away.
“How far along are ya?”
“About three months,” you answered.
He looked to your stomach. “Can’t tell at all, love.”
Dr. Zeigler handed you a cloth to wipe away the gel on your belly, and once it was gone you were about to pull your shirt down when Jami’s hand touched you gently. His hand was hot, and a little sweaty, but he touched you as if you were glass. You weren’t sure he had ever been so gentle with you. His thumb stroked over your skin as he lowered himself down to eye level with your stomach.
“Two,” he whispered, “two little babies in there.”
“No more blasting range for you,” Angela said, giving you a frown. “You will need as much rest and calm as you can get. Twins can be complicated, you know.” She turned her attention to Jami when you nodded. “You need to take care of her, Jamison.”
“Absolutely, doc,” Jami replied, his hand still on your stomach. He looked up at you. “Whatever ya need, I got it.” He let out a fit of giggles. “Roadie’s gonna be so excited!”
You and Angela exchange a glance. You said, “I’m sure he’ll be…something.”
You weren’t sure how Roadhog would feel having two little Jami’s running around, but you didn’t care; all that mattered was Jami’s own excitement.
BONUS (because it popped into my head)
“Roadie, buddy!” Jami said as you and he walked hand in hand into their workspace. “We got news. We’re having kids! Two! There are two little babies growing in Y/N!”
Roadhog looked up from his book, his expression nearly blank with the mask on but you could see his eyes widen.
“You’re having two kids?” he questioned. The longest sentence you’d ever heard him say.
“Yeah, twins! Inn’it great?”
Slowly, Roadhog shut his book and set it on the table. He stood and walked towards you both before saying, “I quit.”
♈ ARIES // Birthed from deep, volcanic heat, and drenched in gasoline. It takes but a spark to light your fuse. Hair a frenzy of dancing flame, and eyes of glowing ember. Bones charred black with skin like wax. Destructive beauty – a force to be reckoned with. The Earth is scorched by a single glance. And from your trail of ash, life will grow. We could use a fresh start.
♉ TAURUS // You sprout from the ground; mossy soles forever rooted in the dirt. The higher you reach, the longer your limbs become. An armor of tree bark and hair like the branches of a flourishing weeping willow. You wear flowers on your head and thorns around your neck. Songbirds sing from your throat. Wooden legs hold firm – unyielding. This is a good place to stand.
♊ GEMINI // Eyes like stained glass windows. Skin of paper mâché, as thin and light as the book pages used to piece you together. Painted to match the sky – the brightest shades of yellow and blue. Hollow bones clatter like wind chimes. Whether you like it or not; the most gentle of breezes will sweep you away. They carry you like a kite. Windy days are like that.
♋ CANCER // Bones of petrified wood drifted ashore, tied loosely together with kelp. Your sea-weathered skin, a milky white – bathed in moonlight and embroidered with little shards of sea glass. Your hair caked in sand and salt. Eyes of pearl and teeth to match; a mermaid with no scales. Your heavy chest heaves with the tides. The feeling is mutual.
♌ LEO // Your heart is plated gold; blood is liquid silver. Diamond eyes with lashes flecked in their dust – blindingly glittering each time they flutter open. Titanium teeth ground to points. Your shining copper locks soak up every sun beam. Bronze skin is searing hot. You are radiance that’s prone to rust. Staying polished is essential.
♍ VIRGO // A spine that reads like a stack of old books. Wooden bones that creek like old stairs. You drift like dust filtered through sunlight into all of the empty spaces: cluttered cupboards and neglected gardens. Thoughts sprout from your scalp. They grow as ferns. Skin made of linen and lace, stained the color of spilled tea. Solitude keeps its own company, I suppose.
♎ LIBRA // Symmetry from head to toe, with pink petal lips and china doll cheeks. Dandelions seeds float from your mouth, carried by every whispered breath. Hair of honey and skin of silk. You speak in wafts of perfumes – sweet and light – laced with just a hint of arsenic. The balance you hold is a fragile thing, love. Handle with care.
♏ SCORPIO // Hips like a hurricane; a heart to match. It beats in claps of thunder; cracking ribs and shooting shock waves up lightning rod bones – electrocuting every nerve and fiber. Only goosebumps tell of the storm brewing beneath. Silver raindrops hang on your lips like stars in the sky. Mirror eyes show others their true reflection. Better they see themselves than you.
♐ SAGITTARIUS // A map of the world is etched deep into your leather hide, like runes carved on ancient temples. Your hair is made of fireworks; all sparks and color and smoke. Lungs full of the same. Bones; the antlers of wild animals. Tendons and joints stretch like rubber bands. You bound and leap and run faster than all. You can flee, but the desire to never will.
♑ CAPRICORN // Marble skin forged from the thickest layers of the Earths crust; embedded with raw crystals. Iron bones, and marrow teaming with valuable gems and minerals. Blood is thick, and molten hot. Your spinal cord is a mountain range. Your movement like tectonic plates. This body was built for efficiency. It will withstand the test of time.
♒ AQUARIUS // Prismatic eyes and hair of tangible starlight. A cosmic kind of beauty. Translucent skin like frosted glass; you can see galaxies swirling faintly under the surface. A heart of foreign origins, and a surreal language few can comprehend. Your lips are crusted with dry paint. Your heart bleeds in water colors. Not everyone gets it.
♓ PISCES // Seaweed hair that always floats as though underwater. Your bones are a patchwork quilt of broken seashells – a mosaic of the ocean. Those toes have never known the taste of the shore. Lids conceal crystal eyeballs. Your lash-line permanently adorned by shimmery tears. They fall as bubbles, and ease the sorrows of strangers. Dreaming is reserved for the ones asleep.
Hey, Red blog here! Taxiderby has confirmed that she is, in fact, a ghost posessing a doll. They've also shed a bit of light on how she fused with her body in the first place. (Well, by that I mean they just said it wasn't a happy situation)
All that is left to do before SeaCon is put little touch up paint on the body, attach the the seat belts in the back seat, replace the steering shift knob, fix the fuse to light up the instrument panel, and then win the lottery so I can have the rust removed, body damage repaired and get her completely painted!!! ;D lol TBA
But at least she is safe to drive and ready to go!