mark heather

Oneshot-Tomtord-I Am Damaged

(A/N: A break from working on Masquerade, I hope you enjoy! I know heathers aus are everywhere and this has probably been done before, but this is pretty decent nonetheless.)

An unbearable heat spread across the neighborhood. The burning rubble crushing one, the fragments and building blocks and foundation of the trio’s life crushing a single soul. Dust billowed all across the lawn as blood spilled from bullet holes and scrapes and as black and blue bruises swelled and bloated the once spotless faces. A feeling of grief, shock, hatred, and utmost betrayal clung to the air, the atmosphere cold and desolate. Yet, among this cloud of despair, a spark of hope drew the attention of the confused yet mourning friends when the sound of brick against brick and metal against metal reached their ears and the broken yet enraged man shoved the broken house off of him. With him, he held an armed harpooned gun, aimed at the giant robot attempting to retreat.

“I…. am not your friend!”

A single harpoon was fired through the air, their only hope to bringing down weapon of mass destruction and world domination. Contempt laced his voice, a venom the stung the Norski harshly, yet he was determined not to let it show. He wouldn’t let any part of the past distract him from his goals. As if it was a literal portrayal of how it felt, the harpoon smashed through the robot, striking him right between the ribs. Red warning lights flashed and alarms blared, bracing the red clad Norwegian for impact. Panic surged through him, filling him with regret.

“Oh no-“

Tom raced up the hill, adrenaline coursing through his veins, eyes wide with terror and regret. He didn’t mean for this to happen, he just wanted to stop him! He wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to do, it all happened off a whim, in the spur of the moment. Maybe he was just trying to scare him, or show him the repercussions of his plans. But now, Tord could be dead. And it would all be Tom’s fault.

Tears stung his eyes as they threatened to fall. His heart pounded and his legs ached as he raced up the hill towards the rubble. Small fires glowed here and there, but they didn’t phase Tom one bit. The pain in the cuts and scratched in his arms and legs was practically nonexistent. His only concern was the condition of his once-lover.

As he reached the top of the hill, his eyes scanned the debris. Metal lay strewn about on the hill, wires of red, green, purple, and blue were scattered as well. Blood stains littered the grass as well, causing a lump to form in Tom’s throat. But sure enough, scrap metal was shoved aside as Tord shakily stood up. He looked fragile, like one strong gust of wind could knock him over and carry him away, or one small blow would cause the end to his life. One leg was obviously broken; he put all support on his left leg. His left arm was damaged beyond repair, and the left side of his face was scarred so badly, he was almost unrecognizable. One of his normally red eyes was bordered boldly in gray, presumably blind. It was a pathetic sight honestly.

“Tord…” Tom didn’t even know where to start. Apologies needed to be made, but both men needed help first. “Tord, we need to get you help.” Desperation dripped from his voice.

“I am damaged. Far too damaged.” Tord finally looked up at him, shining with just as much regret. Tears stained his face. “But you’re not beyond repair.” His gaze shifted up and down Tom, examining his wounds.

Tom loved Tord once. And Tord loved him back. Hard to believe, but they were inseparable. Of course, it was a hidden relationship, they didn’t know what they’d do if Edd and Matt found out. They stole small pecks and kisses when the other two had their backs turned, made excuses to both be out of the house at the same time, and occasionally they subtly kicked out Edd and Matt, convincing them to go have fun without then.

“Stick around here, make things better.” Tord glanced over at the rubble, fire, and pain that was what their neighborhood was reduced to. Eduardo was still, holding Jon, sobbing, and Mark was calling an ambulance. Their faces still held shock, not yet registering their friend was gone. Desperate wails went unheard, but the Norski could still see the grief. Pity pierced through his heart. Tord sighed in defeat, something he had never had to face before in his life. “You beat me fair and square.”

Looking back, hiding the relationship was a stupid idea. Edd and Matt would have been thrilled, and the fighting amongst the ‘enemies’ would finally have ceased. Tord and Tom could still be happy, safe, together. They’d be free of pain and suffering, their only concern being the wellbeing of the other. Oh, what a life they could have had. If they hadn’t been so fearful of their housemates, none of this would have happened.

Tord knew he was going to die. He knew Pau and Pat weren’t going to come if he failed. He knew he couldn’t run, he could hardly stand as it was. His arm would need to be amputated, and he didn’t have the money for that. There was nowhere for him to go; there was no way in hell or heaven that Edd and Matt would take him back, if Tom didn’t kill him first. But he wasn’t going to make it off this hill alive. The beeping and blaring alarms hadn’t stopped. The robot was still active. And it was going to explode. The warnings only fell onto deaf ears, and the lights flashed to blind eyes, as neither boy wanted the cold reminder of the fate they wished to avoid.

“Please stand back now,” The Norski pleaded. Tom didn’t have to die with him, he didn’t deserve this. But Tord did. He’s ruined their lives. He’s a monster. “I don’t know what this thing will do” He admitted softly, attempting to stifle the fear in his voice.

Tom obliged, but he hardly seemed to know what he was doing. His face expressed the epitome of terror and suffering. Tears streaked his blood spattered face, the clear, salty tears turning red as the blood corrupted them.

“Hope you’ll miss me, wish you’d kiss me,” Tord smiled despite the circumstances. It was filled with remorse and heartache, yet you could still how much he cared about the other. “Then you’d know I worship you… I’d trade my life for yours…” He couldn’t hold back the sob that racked his body and escaped his lips.

“Oh my God…” The Brit finally managed to choke out, the weight of their current situation finally taking its toll on him.

“And once I disappear, clean up the mess down here…” Tord could hardly hear Tom pleading for him to not go. To not leave him. It was futile, all in vain. The blaring of the alarms were getting too frantic and too loud, beeping almost as fast as their hearts.

But then, they stopped. They gave out. Silence fell across the two broken boys, so many words unspoken yet so many things they wished they hadn’t said. Tord could hardly choke out any more words, but he had too. For Tom.

“Our love is God…” His eyes met with Tom’s, glazed with tears and relief, glad to finally tell him one last time how much Tom meant to him. He would die in peace, if you could even call it that. Maybe content is a better word, even though the mental wounds of what was about to happen would never heal for Tom.

“Say hi to God…” Tom breathed out. He didn’t believe in any sort of higher power, yet, he’d like to believe he’d be able to see Tord again in a better place. Tord had a good side. He’d have to make it into heaven.

Tom had hardly finished his sentence when the robot finally exploded, debris and smoke filling the air and showering over the blue clad man. He had to throw his arms over his head to keep himself protected. Glass scored his face, and iron shards ripped his hoodie sleeves. Ash and dust embedded themselves into his hair. The fires spread across the blood stained grass and powdery dust lay either gently sprinkled or in heavy coats on the torn up hill. Tom couldn’t stand to watch this scene anymore, the ringing of the screeching metal and bursting pipes only getting louder as he sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him down to his last remaining friends. They were sifting through the rubble, searching for anything salvageable. When they saw him coming, they lifted their heads, tear tracks staining their faces, yet joyful at seeing their friend in one piece, at least on the outside.

“Where were you? You could’ve died!” Edd, always a mother hen, cried, though his voice was raspy. Concern was just one of the words to describe the look on his face.

“You look like hell.” Matt added, apathetically. He didn’t mean to be mean, but he needed to take his anger out on someone, and that someone happened to be Tom.

“I just got back.”

A Very NWSL Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the league,
Not a player was stirring, no HAO was #freed.
Draft picks had been traded, with thought and with care,
Each sweetened the deal on who was going where.

The head coaches were nestled, all snug in their beds,
While visions of trophies danced in their heads.
They thought about game plans and on which players they’d bid,
Parsons dreamt of Portland and putting defenders in mid.

A new team was formed, they called it ‘The Pride’,
Harris and Kyle both signed up for the ride.
Morgan signed too, there was money to be made,
Swapped for Horan in a “Blockbuster Trade!”

The World Cup was held and by Canada was hosted,
Selections were made and rosters were posted.
From England and Sweden to Brazil and Japan,
Players left clubs with a dream and a plan.

With key players gone, the teams felt the sting,
But they shuffled their squads and each did their thing.
Betos scored a goal, knocked in with her head,
Dunn knuckled down and in scoring, she led.

ESPN and Fox showed the odd match,
Everything else, on YouTube you’d catch.
The sound it was awful and the picture much worse,
Fans begged their clubs for an end to the curse.

The Gals they came home and they basked in the glory,
With parades and parties and the odd cover story.
As they returned to the pitch, we saw on their feet,
Each sock covered perfectly with a yellow Nike cleat.

With Krieger & Co. each back in their spot,
Attendance at club games increased by a lot.
New fans watched nervously in fear of defeat,
Tuning in to watch players they’d never seen beat.

Some legends retired and some, they were born,
Mia’s goal record was matched by a Thorn.
Masar signed to Sweden, what about McLeod?
Angerer became a coach, is that even allowed?

Sunil Gulati appeared from below, with a black suit on and an ethereal glow;
“Here’s to the preseason, the sport and the shield,
And here’s to playing on a well kept grass field.”
“Here’s to a year of fair play and fierce passion,
And leggings under shorts in true goalkeeper fashion.”
“Here’s to equality! Well, within reason,
And here’s to the NWSL and another great season.”

“One little league and it’s ten little teams,
Of much better quality than their god awful streams.”
“Now, Spirit! Now, Breakers! Now, Thorns and The Flash!
On, Red Stars! On, Pride! On, Reign and The Dash!”
“Don’t worry, Kansas! I didn’t forget,
How you doing Sky Blue, got a coach yet?”
Gulati exclaimed as he flew out of sight -

“Happy Lauren Holidays to all, and to all a good night!”

  • *after Heather Chandler's funeral*
  • Heather Duke : This is our chance, Heather! Someone has to fill Heather Chandler's shoes, and that someone is us, okay? This school is dying for a hero!
  • Heather McNamara: Is it?
  • Heather Duke: Yeah!
  • Heather McNamara: What about 2000 socially conscious and unified students all just stepping up and doing their part?
  • Heather Duke: As a little kid, didn't you ever dream of being the most popular girl in school?
  • Heather McNamara: I'll tell you what I did as a little kid. I went to school, I made my bed, and at age 11 I audited my parents. And believe me, there were some discrepancies. And I was grounded.
  • Heather Duke: What THE HELL are you?