Turlough groaned and rolled over, tangling himself further in the sheets. He’d been confined to bed for several days now, having being struck ill on their last trip to Earth. Being human, Tegan was partially immune and had only ended up with a slight cold, and the Doctor was fine as always, leaving Turlough to be the only one suffering, something which Tegan kept teasing him about, repeatedly going on about man flu, and how he was being pathetic. He finally managed to extract himself from his covers and threw them on the floor in annoyance, just as the Doctor entered the room.
“There’s no need to take it out on the bed sheets,” He remarked lightly, looking down at his companion sympathetically.
“I did say we shouldn’t have gone in the first place,” Turlough complained hoarsely, pulling himself up into a sitting position as he spoke. The Time Lord crossed the room to his side and pressed the back of his hand against the younger man’s forehead, before reassuring, “You’ll be up and about again in the next day or two, I’m sure.” Before Turlough had the chance to complain some more, he added, “Anyway, I came to tell you that Tegan and I are going outside to investigate, but we shan’t be too long. Is there anything you need before we leave?” At a shake of his head, The Doctor smiled and turned to leave, his parting words being, “Try and get some sleep; it’ll do you good.” The Trion grunted and laid back down, leaving the sheets were they’d landed.
Later, after a period of fitful sleep, he was woken abruptly. Opening his eyes, he inspected his surroundings, all the time listening carefully for sounds of the other two returning. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Turlough forced himself up out of bed and cautiously made his way to the bedroom door, which he opened slowly and silently. Once out, he shut it behind him and headed towards the console room, treading as softly as he could, listening to the feeling in his gut that something was wrong. Freezing when he heard faint noises from up ahead, he reluctantly made the decision to investigate. The others were off exploring, so he couldn’t leave it to them, and if there was something on board with him, he would rather know who or what it was. He crept closer to the door that separated the console room from the living quarters, the sounds becoming clearer as he approached, eventually turning into slightly awkward sounding speech. He presumed it was some animalistic language that that TARDIS matrix was having some difficulty translating into normal dialogue.
“Does the transport go?” A deep voice asked, filling Turlough with dread. He had to stop them before they figured out how to make the TARDIS dematerialise, as even if he did succeed in beating the threat, he didn’t know where they’d landed, or what the co-ordinates were, and so wouldn’t be able to get back to the Doctor.
“Not yet. It has complex controls,” A second voice replied, as he inched forwards to support himself on the doorframe. Another pause, and then he held his breath and pulled the door towards him, praying that the things wouldn’t notice; that it wouldn’t make a noise and attract their attention. He seemed to be lucky though, so he peeped through the tiny gap to see just what exactly had made its way onboard.
In the console room, two creatures were stood by the control panel, one of them pressing switches and pulling levers with all four of its hands, while the other just watched and waited. They reminded Turlough of an Earth animal that he’d seen a picture of while at Brendon School. A warthog he thought, recalling the name, although he knew that no warthog ever walked upright or had four arms with two fingers and two opposable thumbs on each hand. He silently closed the door again, leaning back against the wall as he tried to think of a plan.
“If only The Doctor were here,” He moaned under his breath, accidentally provoking a coughing fit. His eyes widened as he fought to get his body under control, knowing the invaders had to have heard it. Indeed they had, and the one that had spoken first growled, “I will investigate. You work still.” Turlough backed away quickly, and forsaking some stealth for speed, hurried away to find somewhere to hide. He yanked open a door some way down the hallway and darted inside, leaving the door open a crack so he tell if his hunter passed by. Inspecting his surroundings for a potential weapon, he chanced upon a cricket bat lying on a low table, so he swiftly picked it up and held it tightly.
It was a few minutes before it reached Turlough’s hiding place, presumably having searched the other rooms nearer the console room first. He waited behind the door with baited breath, heart beating wildly, still hoping that it would give up before it found him. That wasn’t to be though, as the door swung open and the creature entered, watching intently the mannequin on the opposite wall that was wearing nothing but a long striped scarf. Taking advantage of its distraction, he stepped out from his hiding place and swung the bat as hard as he could, muttering, “Sorry Doctor,” to hit the base of its skull with a dull thud. After what seemed like an age, but in reality was only a second or two, it staggered forwards a few steps and slumped to the ground. It thankfully didn’t move again. Turlough breathed a sigh of relief, and then leant his weight on the bat to steady himself as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Once it had passed, he straightened and then used the mannequin’s scarf to tie the alien’s hands tightly behind its back as an extra precaution. Stepping back to inspect his handiwork, he was suddenly worried again. The other one wouldn’t be as easy to take down, as he had no way of taking it by surprise, and in his current state, Turlough was in no way up for a fight. A flash of inspiration came to him as he picked the cricket bat up again, and so he hurried as fast as he could to what used to be Nyssa’s room, hoping that there were still some of her chemicals left in there.
Test tube of acid in one hand and the cricket bat in the other, Turlough crept back towards the console room, relieved slightly when he saw that the second creature had its back to the doorway. Trying to make as little noise as possible, he moved closer, cursing when it turned around and looked directly at him. He brought the test tube up level with his shoulder, took aim, and threw before it had a chance to move out of the way. It let out a high pitched squeal as the acid burnt the side of its face and charged at Turlough, missing him by inches as he dived to the floor and rolled away. Not giving him any chance to get to his feet, it skidded to a halt and changed direction, bearing down on where he was shuffling backwards. He attempted to use the wall to pull himself up, but the invader grabbed him with two hands and flung him across the room into the TARDIS doors. He groaned in pain as he fell to the floor again, wanting nothing more than to just lie there until the Doctor and Tegan returned, but he knew he had to get up if he wanted to live. He yanked himself up, swaying on his feet as he stumbled towards the controls, gaze fixed on one lever in particular. Lunging for it before his enemy could stop him; he tugged the lever, causing the main doors to swing open. He backed out of the TARDIS, hoping with all his might that it was too enraged to think straight and would charge after him. Thanks to the acid burn eating away at its face, this was in fact what it did, barrelling out of the doors fast enough for Turlough to step aside to let it pass and then quickly re-enter the police box, slamming the doors shut behind him. The console room finally freed, he leant back against them, head spinning, and tried to catch his breath. He surveyed the damage as he waited for his pulse to calm, and sighed. He’d need to find something to collect the shards of broken glass in, and some gloves to protect his hands from the acid that was surely left.
The cleanup finished, Turlough sank to the floor, completely worn out. His shoulder was throbbing where he’d hit the doors, and he had a pounding headache that seemed to be pulsing in time with it. He shut his eyes wearily and sagged back against the wall behind him. Looking a wreck, this was how his friends found him when they returned, in high spirits from a successful trip, although these were quickly dampened.
“Turlough!” Tegan cried out, while The Doctor hurried over to crouch down next to him, concern etched deep into his features. Turlough’s eyes flickered open and he slowly looked up to meet The Doctor’s stare, prompting the question, “Are you alright?”
“I’m sick and beaten and I’ve just had to save the TARDIS from being stolen by space faring warthogs. What do you think?” He grumbled, but his complaining seemed to reassure the Doctor, who stood back up and held out a hand to help him up. It was Tegan that exclaimed, “How did they get in?!”
“We mustn’t have closed the doors properly,” The Doctor replied, apparently unconcerned, “I would like to know what happened while they were here though, but it can wait until you’re back in bed, Turlough.” He slipped his arm around the Trion’s shoulders to steady him, and began steering him back to his room.
“Oh, and there’s one left unconscious and tied up in that storage room.”
- Current Mood: bored
- Current Music:Mind Eraser, No Chaser by Them Crooked Vultures
Title: The Worst Day
Warnings: Violence, but nothing graphic.
Summary: The worst day of 'Star's life.
There was a loud, ringing explosion somewhere behind him, so he swiftly dispatched his current opponent and spun around to survey the damage. That was when he saw Rictor flung to the ground, landing awkwardly, arms and legs splayed haphazardly like a doll. Moments passed like hours, but still he didn’t move. Why wouldn’t he get up?
“Julio!” He cried, sprinting towards his fallen comrade, no longer caring about the battle raging around him. He dropped to his knees at Rictor’s side, frantically checking for life signs, hardly even acknowledging his actions when his lover’s would be killer attempted to get him while he was distracted. The swords strapped to one arm slid out almost of their own accord, straight into the man’s stomach. The victim’s eyes widened in shock, and subsequently he slumped backwards, crumpling to the floor as the blades retracted once more. The erratic pulse he could feel was fading. He pressed his fingers harder against the wrist, refusing to accept that his best friend was slipping away. He’d already lost him once; he wasn’t about to let him go again.
“Fekt!” He growled, “¡Vamos*, Julio! Don’t you dare!” The languages in his head ran together, coming out in a garbled string of sentences, although the meaning was fairly obvious, his distress showing through clear as day in his expression and actions.
And then Jamie was crouching next to him, or at least one of the Jamie’s, he was never certain which was the true Jamie, and which were just dupes. Other than acknowledging the fact that he wasn’t about to attack them, he paid him just as much attention as he had the recently alive corpse beside him. Rictor’s heartbeat was stuttering now, and he was surprised to see a few drops of moisture land on his face, not immediately realising the droplets were his own tears. Jamie hurriedly stood again and dashed off, yelling into his communicator something about how they needed an elixir immediately. He ignored his team leader, focusing solely on Rictor, and wished desperately, not for the first time, that he wasn’t the only one with a healing factor.
The sounds of the battle had faded too, but he still didn’t move, still clutching Rictor’s wrist as if letting go would be the spark that would bring on his death. This was definitely the worst day of his life, both on Earth and on Mojoworld.*Vamos is supposed to be the translation for 'come on', but I don't speak much Spanish, so this may be wrong. Feel free to correct me if this is the case.
- Current Mood: chipper
They were surrounded. There was no doubt about it, they were in big trouble now, and unless they could find a way out of the situation soon, they would soon be dead. There were thirty or so of the faceless soldiers, all with guns pointed at Dick and his new friends, waiting only for the authorisation from above to carry out their task. Before the men had a chance to attack, Theresa took the initiative and screamed, sending the soldier nearest her flying through the air and straight into one of his comrades. Both crashed to the ground and the one who bore the brunt of the attack didn’t get up again. Unfortunately this action caused several others to open fire on her, and at least one of them found their target, as suddenly a spasm shook her body, a few sparks of electricity danced over her, and then, seeming to Dick almost as if time had slowed, she fell from the sky, landing with a thud a few metres in front of him. Rictor shouted some obscenities in Spanish which Dick pretended not to understand, and was about to rush to her aid, when one of the nearest soldiers actually spoke to them, warning, “One step and you’re dead.” Both men froze, knowing they would be no use to Theresa if they got themselves killed, no matter how much they wanted to just rush headlong into a fight. One of the other soldiers walked over to her and kicked her to check she was unconscious, before confirming, “The bitch is down.” Rictor looked like he was having trouble restraining himself.
It was at that point that Dick noticed the ground had started shaking. It was barely perceptible, but the vibrations seemed to be increasing, and if it continued, then they’d soon have difficulty standing, let alone fighting. As the enemy began voicing cries and shouts of alarm, Dick turned to his still standing teammate, about to suggest something, but was surprised to see that Rictor’s expression had changed from a mix of fury and concern to a somewhat maniacal grin.
“iMadre de dios! My powers are back!” He laughed, apparently having no trouble keeping his balance, and clapped his hands together, causing a greenish blast to shoot out at the feet of the man who'd kicked Theresa. Dick used his training as a circus artist and a vigilante to good effect and made his way slowly to the downed woman, trusting Rictor to cover his back. He crouched down next to her and after checking her vitals to confirm she was still alive, carefully scooped her up into his arms.
“Get her back to base. I’ll make sure you aren’t followed,” Rictor yelled to him, whilst sending yet another soldier crashing to the ground. Dick quickly weighed up his options, and then made his way away from the battle, dodging the occasional soldier or energy blast. He headed west, planning on looping around to the cave. It wouldn’t do to lead them straight to their hideout, or even give them the remotest of clues as to its location.
Before disappearing over the crest of the nearest hill, he glanced back at his friend, and then made a mental note to, when a suitable moment presented itself, find out why the Mexican looked so at home in the middle of the struggle.
- Current Mood:accomplished
- Current Music:Reptiles by Them Crooked Vultures
Nothing above G/PG-13, but I may decide to write more in this AU later on. :)
1. March of the Fire Ants by Mastodon
The soldiers were perfectly trained for their task, executing it ruthlessly, quietly and efficiently. The majority of their victims were taken down before any form of resistance could be organised, and the rest soon followed. The three of them were the only ones left now, at least that they knew of. Maybe there were other survivors hiding out like they were, but they wouldn’t expect anything. A quick warning from Bruce was the only reason they were still alive and free, and now they were on the run, fleeing for their lives. They couldn’t help their friends.
2. Monster by Lady Gaga
The creature reared its head and bellowed some form of battle cry, before charging towards Tim, intent on crushing him into the dust. At the last minute, he threw himself out of the way, rolling behind a boulder to gain a moment’s respite, and drew a batarang from his belt, poised to attack. The beast had now realised its prey hadn’t been killed, and was coming back for another go, snorting and kicking up dust clouds as it went.
Where the hell were Dick and Damian?
3. Faster Than the Speed of Life by Steppenwolf
Dick crouched on the outcropping above the cave they’d taken for their current hideout, scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. He’d never admit it, but he was scared; scared that Tim wouldn’t come back; that he’d lose yet another friend. Not that he doubted Tim’s abilities at all, just the sheer amount of opposition they had out there. He’d gone to get them more supplies, and insisted on going on his own, adamant that he’d be safer alone.
There! A figure hurrying towards him, a rucksack slung across their back. He swung down to the floor and waited for the person to reach him, smiling the whole time.
“You came back,” He murmured, pulling his friend into a hug.
4. Hill of the Skull by Joe Satriani
When they found the body, it was hanging from a tall oak tree on top of the hill; serving as a warning against rebellion or resistance to any would be heroes and freedom fighters. The legacy of Superman had ended right here in front of them, and it reawakened the pain that had stalked them for the past few weeks.
Not even Damian had a quip to make.
5. Spitfire by The Prodigy
Dick somersaulted out of the way of the gun fire, ducking and diving and weaving just to stay alive. They’d been on the run about three weeks he reckoned, and every day they moved higher up the priority list. He was glad for the body armour, even if it did make him more of a target, he certainly wouldn’t be still fighting without it. Damian came flying out of an alley, swinging from a rope and hit his target dead on, knocking the weapon out of the man’s hand. He dropped to the ground and raced towards Dick, yelling to him to run, that Tim would catch up.
“Although I hope he doesn’t,” He added, scowling at the thought of Red Robin.
6. Ascendancy by Trivium
After the initial panic had died down, they chanced a forage into Gotham, searching to see if any of their allies and friends were still alive. Unsuccessful in that task, instead they found a memorial to the fallen, erected shoddily in the basement of an abandoned warehouse, but it was a memorial nevertheless. Someone was thinking of them, and all their comrades who had ascended to the heavens. There was hope still alive, and that was possibly just as important their original mission.
7. (Don’t Fear) The Reaper by Blue Oyster Cult
He wasn’t scared about dying, that much he could say for certain, but he didn’t want to leave Dick behind. He’d been through more than enough already, and he didn’t deserve any of it. When his friend was busy, Tim would watch him work, admiring the way he moved and wishing he knew how to comfort him and banish his pain. That pain was hidden whenever they were talking, but when Dick thought he was alone, he let it show, and it almost broke Tim’s heart.
8. Silver Machine by Hawkwind
They unearthed the device on the outskirts of the city, when they were taking a break from foraging for food. It was just sticking out of the dirt by Damian’s feet, and he immediately bent down to retrieve it. Silver under the coating of soil, it reflected the evening sun, looking like it was sparkling. None of them could work out what it did, but it might come in useful, so they took it back to their hideout to inspect further.
9. Double Take by Blondie
Tim walked into the cave and blinked, double taking. Dick was laid out on the floor, wearing nothing but his boxers, and Damian was nowhere to be seen. It was as if one of his dreams had come true. The difference being that in his dreams, Dick wanted it as much as he did. He sighed, and forced himself to look away, distracting himself by searching for some water to drink, before dropping to the floor and trying to get some sleep himself.
10. Behind the Wall of Sleep by Black Sabbath
There comes a certain point during the night that determines whether sleep will decide to grace his presence. Once he gets past that point, assuming he’s still awake, then that’s when he does his thinking. Both Dick and Tim are asleep and he’s undisturbed for a few precious hours, allowed to plot and brood and sulk to his hearts content, broken only by the occasional glare in the direction of Tim’s prone body.
- Current Mood:productive
Fandom: Young Avengers
Archive: Just ask.
Disclaimer: Characters (c) Marvel. :(
Summary: Billy has a nightmare.
Billy Kaplan was tired. Tired
and in pain, both due to the fighting he’d been doing on his way home from
school, but mainly tired. He pushed open the front door of his house and went
straight to the living room, where he assumed his boyfriend would be.
“Teddy?” Billy called out, before smiling a little as he saw
the mop of blonde hair sticking up over the back of the sofa. Wearily he
continued, “I was outside the bank and this guy was about to rob it, so I had
to change into costume in an alley and go and fight him, and then it turned out
he had superpowers too, but...” He trailed off, realising something was wrong.
Teddy hadn’t yet turned to look at him. Even Eli would have said something by
now. Hell, even Tommy would have replied, although it would most likely to be just
laughter at his misfortune.
“Ted?” Billy asked, softly, “You okay?” He swept aside
his problems, filled with concern for his teammate, and strode around the sofa
to comfort him. What he saw though, made him freeze to the spot, hands flying
to his mouth.
“Ohgodohgodohgod,” He moaned, pain tearing through him
again, but this time emotional pain at the sight of the blood pooling at the
other boy’s feet, dripping from the wounds that covered his torso. Dimly at the
back of his mind, Billy knew that this shouldn’t be possible; Teddy’s body
would have already begun healing itself, but the scene was terrifying and very convincing.
Teddy opened his eyes, looking straight at Billy... Fuck, his eyeballs had been ripped out! ...and grinned, “Hello
Billy,” he lost it. He stumbled backwards and let out a cry, backing away until
he couldn’t go any further.
“Billy, what’s wrong?” Teddy asked, leering at him. He
was finding it hard to breathe and fighting the urge to throw up, but couldn’t
tear his gaze away from the mutilated body that was once his boyfriend.
“Billy? Talk to me.” Billy whimpered, edging sideways,
still keeping his eyes locked on the nightmarish figure in front of him.
“Damn it, Billy, just wake up!” He felt himself being
shaken roughly, and blinked several times. Suddenly he wasn’t in the living
room anymore. He was laid in bed, and someone was looming over him, watching
“Teddy!” he yelped, arms shooting out to pull him down
into a tight hug, not planning on letting him go anytime soon. Teddy hugged him
back, simultaneously manoeuvring them both into a more comfortable position,
and whispered, “Hey, it’s okay. It was just a nightmare.” He rubbed Billy’s
back, soothing him as best as he could, and planted a kiss on the top of the
smaller boy’s head.
“But you were dead!” The faint reply came, muffled by
“Well, I’m not. You can’t get rid of me that easily,” He
grinned, teasing the warlock, who snuggled further into him.
“I love you, Billy.” A soft murmur assured him that Billy felt the same, and then all was right again. It was just a nightmare, after all.
- Current Mood: tired
- Current Music:Die Die My Darling by Metallica
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Fandom: Pairing: Rictor/Shatterstar
Disclaimer: Characters (c) Marvel. :(
Summary: Based off a prompt I read on here somewhere. 'Star's being doing some secret modeling.
When Rictor first saw the billboard, he was getting off the train, having been sent into the centre of the Big Apple to get some supplies for the team. The carriage that took him there was stuffy and heaving, packed with snobby city workers who all thought they were above him - a down trodden ex-mutant, even though they were all stuck in boring nine to five jobs, with little to no hope of ever going anywhere in life. He was pretty certain he’d seen more in the last ten or so years than all of them put together would see in their entire lives. There’d been psychotic serial killers, mutant terrorists with a scarily twisted view of the world, and hostile aliens from different planets and alternate dimensions. On the other side of the coin, some of the sights he’d seen were beautiful, such as watching the sun slowly set with Shatterstar down in Mexico, tired from an evening spent taking down yet another arm of his family’s gun running business. He’d even seen his boyfriend come back from the dead. That was something that he’d never forget, and quite possibly the only thing that hurt more than losing his powers.
Endless apartment blocks and high-rise offices towered above them, casting their gloom over the chugging metal prison. At least, it felt like a prison to Rictor. Why it had to be today of all days that Jamie decided the company Van needed repainting, he’d never know. Nevertheless, it was today, and so he was stuck on the train, surrounded by people he would gladly never see or hear again. He scowled down at the table in front of him, wishing the journey was over already. What good was ‘Star having teleportation skills, if he wouldn’t use them to transport his boyfriend around? Fuck anyone who might get hurt by them teleporting into the middle of a crowd. Muttering under his breath about his boyfriend’s explanation of why he couldn’t use his powers to take Rictor to the centre, only earned him strange, worried looks from the people around him, so he lapsed back into silence, still glaring at the table as if everything was its fault.
Eventually, after a journey that seemed to have lasted years, the train drew into the station, and so Rictor made his way off onto the platform, whilst being jostled every which way by the crowds surging to get to their individual destinations. Fighting his way through, he managed to reach the coffee stand near the exit, and shouted his order to make himself heard over the racket. A single mocha to go. Happening to glance to his left whilst waiting, he spotted a homeless man holding out a worn cap, begging the unseeing commuters for spare change. He felt a twinge inside, knowing full well what it was like to be starving and without a home, so amended his order to include a second drink. Taking the two cups from the barista, he closed the short distance between him and the destitute man, and then crouched down in front of him, offering him the second drink.
“I’ve been there man; I know what it’s like,” He explained, feeling a little embarrassed at the thanks that was so clearly evident in the man’s eyes and expression. Scarred hands gratefully took the steaming cup, and a hoarse voice asked, “How did you, y’know... get a life again, if you don’t mind me askin’?” Taken aback by the question, Rictor thought for a moment, trying to decide how to explain the uniqueness of his past, before simply settling on, “I managed to get a job.”
“No miracle escape then,” The guy laughed sadly, “I suppose all I can do is live in hope, but there is a fair bit of that around at the moment. The future’s looking brighter. I mean, take that new jeans advert – they’ve got what I’m pretty sure is the first ever male mutant model!” Rictor smiled and nodded in reply even though he hadn’t seen the ad, prior to giving his excuses and heading towards the exit.
Outside, the sun was shining brightly, causing the Mexican to blink a few times before his eyes adjusted to the light. Only then did he see the billboard stretched across the side of a skyscraper, showing the advert that the homeless chap mentioned. The fact that the model was a mutant wasn’t what shocked him to a standstill though. The reason for that was his knowing of said mutant, rather intimately in fact. He was stood facing away from the camera; thumbs presumably hooked in his belt loops, but was looking back over his shoulder, the star shaped brand over his left eye noticeably visible, and staring straight at Rictor. A whirl of emotions flooded through him; jealousy, pride, anger, but also, perhaps not surprisingly, a sense of smugness at the fact that out of the millions of people that would see the giant image of this latest sex-god, he was the only one that got to go home and find him waiting for them; the only one who got to enact their fantasies about this denim clad deity.
All the same, he was still going to kill ‘Star when he got back to HQ.
- Current Mood: amused
Shatterstar: Can I try something?
Shatterstar: I've been thinking about it for a while. They're so soft and shiny...
He starts sucking one of Rictor's toes.
- Current Mood: amused
- Current Music:Eurovision.
Pfft, why can't I get a subscription or something...
- Current Mood: annoyed
Being in a long term relationship, which is definitely a positive thing.
- Current Location:Home.
- Current Mood: good
- Current Music:Deer Dance - SOAD