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Bobbie
04 September 2018 @ 09:18 pm
unwanted transformation attacked by a creature exhaustion falsely imprisoned secret identity discovered
accidental mating for life witch hunt body image issues forced to participate in illegal / hurtful activity strapped to a moving vehicle
loss of voice / forced silence stalkers WILD CARD touch-starved amnesia
phobias theft magical trouble caught in a robbery accidents
accept injury to protect someone isolation eating disorders cuddling atonement

Title: Silenced
Fandom: White Collar
Pairings: Gen
Warnings: Character injury, loss of voice, car accidents, drunk driving (mentioned)
Word Count: 1,170
Prompt: loss of voice / forced silence
Summary: Neal loses his voice in a car accident. He mourns his ability to control others.
Link: LJ | A03 | Podfic
 
 
Current Mood: sicksick
Current Music: Silence
 
 
Bobbie
16 September 2018 @ 09:20 pm
Title: Silenced
Fandom: White Collar
Pairings: Gen
Warnings: Character injury, loss of voice, car accidents, drunk driving (mentioned)
Word Count: 1,170
Prompt: loss of voice / forced silence
Summary: Neal loses his voice in a car accident. He mourns his ability to control others.
Link: LJ | A03 | Podfic



Prior to the accident, Neal never really thought about how much he relied on his voice. How many times every day did he manipulate a person with just a few words and a smile? How many flirtatious one-liners did he throw out? How many half-truths did he tell? After the accident, it seemed that his voice was all he could think about. Now, Neal was desperate just be able to tell someone hello.

Neal never really considered how much he needed his voice to get by. His voice was an intrinsic part of who he was, one of the many tools in his arsenal that he used every day to do what he loved best. Neal could do a lot with just a smile or the way he dressed. He could control how people saw him and, by doing so, he controlled their reactions to him. He controlled them.

Peter thought it was the adrenaline rush that had him pulling con after con, but it wasn't. Not really. The adrenaline was good too, but that wasn't why Neal kept doing it. It was the ability to control others that made Neal powerful.

Growing up everything was decided for him. What he wore. What he ate. When he ate. Where he went. Who he went with. Sometimes, as a child, Neal had felt as though he was merely a character in a play and the script was being dictated by someone else. Now, he was the master of his own fate, and everyone around him, at least for a little while, were his puppets on the stage. Well, he was the master of his own fate. But now? Neal wasn't sure what he was now, or what was going to happen next.

He wasn't even actively working on a case with Peter when the accident had happened. They had just been driving back to Peter’s house to pick up El when it happened. Neal had been excited. El wanted to go to a new artist’s opening at an art gallery downtown and had insisted to Peter that Neal come too. Peter had objected of-course, but El wanted someone who would appreciate the impressionistic works rather than just think they were an example of legal fraud.

There was a drunk driver. It seems like it is always a drunk driver that causes the most damage. The story behind the most tragic headlines. Only this time, it wasn’t just a story with a headline. This drunk crashed head on into Peter’s car, and they had been going fast. Surprisingly fast for New York, where the streets were often so packed you could walk faster than you could drive.

In the first few seconds after the impact, Neal was shocked. It took a few minutes for him to really realize what had happened. Then he took stock of himself, and thought he was fine. Surprised, but fine. The impact had jarred him badly. Snapping his neck back and then forward again hard enough he bumped it on the dashboard, but he was fine.

“Neal? Neal!”

That was Peter, shouting at him. Was Peter hurt? Neal made himself look over at the FBI agent. Neal’s neck was sore, but he made himself turn. He could do it. Neal was fine.

Peter was fine too, it seemed. Looking at Neal with that concerned puppy-pleading in his eyes like he does every time an undercover op goes just a little wrong. Peter seemed a little blurry around the edges, like a picture from an out of focus camera lens, but he didn’t seem hurt.

“Pe-er?” Neal slurred. The car around them didn’t seem quite stable. Things were just a little off though. It felt like he was on a boat in open water. “You okay?” Neal’s voice didn’t sound quite right to him, but that was probably just because of the ringing in his ears. Neal was fine.

Peter was saying something. Neal could see Peter’s mouth moving, but the words didn’t quite register in Neal’s brain. Everything was off.

Those few seconds in time seemed to slow down and take an eternity. The few minutes after seemed to have been in fast-forward.

The paramedics showed up and soon had Peter and Neal loaded onto gurneys. They put a neck brace on Neal before moving him. Neal tried to protest. He didn’t need the contraption. It itched, but they shushed him and wrapped it securely around his neck anyways. Neal couldn't see Peter anymore, but he hoped the agent was getting the same embarrassing treatment.

From there, everything seemed too move too fast. Neal knows they were loaded onto the ambulance and rushed to the nearest hospital, but he doesn’t really remember much. Later, the doctors would tell him that he had a bad concussion. That not remembering was natural. That he would probably never remember, but it wasn’t the memory problem that left Neal breathless and with his heart beating too hard, too fast. It was his voice.

They didn’t find out until later. Later, when the nurse came into his room, and he tried to flirt. “Are you lost Ma’am? Because heaven is a long way from here.” He tried to say with a smile, but when he spoke, there was nothing. No sound. Neal could feel the air moving out his mouth, but nothing.

At first, he thought his hearing was damaged. Had he gone deaf? But then the nurse spoke, “What was that, dear?”

And he tried again, “Hello, beautiful.” But nothing.

Now the nurse was frowning at him. “Let me call the doctor, hun.” She tried not to show it, but her whole demeanor had changed. She was worried and that made Neal scared.

The doctor arrived a few minutes later and examined Neal’s throat, neck, and lungs. Using his latex cover fingers to probe tender tissue and pushing his cold stethoscope against Neal’s chest over and over. Soon he ordered a battery of tests.

It was the CT scan that showed the problem. Laryngeal fractures, tiny, but a lot of them. The doctor said they had probably been caused when his head snapped backwards in the crash. They said his odds were good on recovering his voice, but he needed surgery to repair the damage.

“It’ll be okay.” Peter said, but Neal knew he was mostly trying to convince himself of that.

“Oh, honey.” El hugged him and looked at him with pity in her eyes.

Neal didn’t want their comfort or pity. He wanted his voice back. He needed his voice back. Without his voice he was powerless. Sure, he could still smile and dress and pretend but without his voice all that power was pointless. He could not direct the mark to do what he wanted just by smiling. He needed his voice to plant ideas, to encourage, and to convince.

Neal felt adrift in a sea of people. Surrounded by life and sound and happiness, but somehow set apart from it. Separated by his inability to participate. Silenced.

 
 
Bobbie
16 February 2015 @ 11:31 pm
Cork  

Bang! Fizz.

The cork popped off the champagne bottle and as the assembly of officers cheered.

“A toast,” Admiral Niles called. “to the Phoenix!”

“The Phoenix!” everyone echoed and drank.

Naomi watched the party from her shadowed corner. Everything was ready and her new ship would soon leave dry dock, but she couldn't bring herself to the excitement of her crew and fellow officers. Naomi loved space. She loved her ship. She loved exploring the unknown and discovering new things, but going out into the black again also meant war, more fighting, more hurt, more death.

“How much more hate and destruction could this galaxy take?” She silently asked herself. “When will it end? Will it end?”

 
 
Current Location: Honorem HQ
Current Mood: depresseddepressed
Current Music: orchestra in background
 
 
Bobbie
02 February 2015 @ 08:22 pm
shopping surprise kissing under the mistletoe cough daughter
cousin praise cork heat hope
red nose dreaming of a white Christmas kids cards
uncle spicy son tinsel getting nothing for Christmas
globe a wonderful life frightful cowbell sleigh

Get your own CharLoft Winter Bingo Card at http://www.labarc.com/Bingo/

 
 
Bobbie
28 August 2013 @ 07:42 pm
The most awesome serial novels ever!

http://raythereign.com/membership/aff/go?r=3343
Tags: ,
 
 
Current Location: Raythe Reign
Current Mood: optimisticoptimistic
Current Music: rattling air conditioner
 
 
 
Bobbie
14 July 2013 @ 09:19 pm
Help me win this poetry contest: http://figment.com/books/667099-I-Do-Not-Belong
 
 
Current Mood: determineddetermined
 
 
Bobbie
19 June 2013 @ 09:51 pm
WARNING! There is minor self-harm ahead.


But the forth time he made it happen.

Spock was in the gym spinning his Lirpa through the drills his muscles were familiar with as he thought. It had been 6.2 weeks since he recovered from his illness and the Captain had not yet requested another chess game. In fact, not counting when they were on shift together, they had only spent 2.43 hours together since then. That was unacceptable. But how to fix the situation? Perhaps…

Carefully Spock spun the Lirpa into one of the more advanced drills. Then he let it slip just so…the Lirpa cut though the his soft cloth pants and bit a shallow cut into his leg. Perfect.

“Spock!” The Captain who was nearby attempting to secretly stare at the exercising Vulcan noticed the injury immediately. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Pleased at the reaction, Spock watched Jim rush over to him. Apparently the Captain worried every time he was hurt or sick. This warranted more testing, but not at the moment. Now it was time to enjoy the results.

“It seems I require sessions with my Lirpa more often. As humans put it, I am out of practice.”

“You’re bleeding! Come sit down!” Jim rushed Spock over to a bench. “Kirk to—”

“Captain, you are over-reacting. It is only a shallow cut.”

“But—“

“There is no need to call in a medical team when I am perfectly capable of walking to sick bay myself.”

“Fine.”

Spock was disappointed. He didn’t predict that the captain would give up so easily. Maybe he should make the injury appear slightly more serious—

“But I’m coming with you.”

That was the reaction he wanted. Spock suppressed the illogical urge to smile.


Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
 
 
Bobbie
18 June 2013 @ 03:35 pm
The third time was entirely unexpected.

Sniff


“How long until we arrive at Vafer Tor, Mr. Sulu?”

Sniff

“3.2 hours, Captain.”

“Inform me when-”

AAACHOOOOO!

“Mr. Spock?”

“Yeb, Cabtin?”

Sniff

“Are you sick?”

“Vulcanb do not—AACHOO—geb bick, bir.”

“Rrriight.” Kirk was incredulous. “You’re only half-vulcan, Spock.”

Sniff

“Yes, sbir.”

“And do half-Vulcans get sick?”

“I amb cabable of beforminb by buties, Cabtin.” Sniff.

“Report to sickbay, Commander.”

“Bir, I—”

“Go or I’ll have Bones come up here.”

“Cabtin—”

“Dr. McCoy to the bridge.”




“How is he, Bones?”

The doctor lowered his tricorder.

“I amb—”

McCoy snorted. “It’s just a cold, Jim, but he needs to rest.”

Sniff. “Bocbor, I abbore you—”

“If he doesn’t it will become something worse.”

“Isn’t it illogical to ignore the doctor’s orders? You’re relieved of duty, Commander. Go rest.”

“Cabtin—”

“Don’t make me make that an order.”

“Yeb, bir.”




4.3 hours later found Commander Spock in science lab 2.

Aaachoooo!


“Commander, are you sure you should be here?” Another person asked.

“Yeb, lieubenant.” Spock replied harshly. Sniff.

“Okay!” The she mumbled as she walked away. “No need to bite my head off.”

“Dr. McCoy,” Unknown to Spock the lieutenant commed sickbay as soon as she was out of earshot. “There is a rather sick Vulcan terrorizing the science labs.”

McCoy swore. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Just get him out of here!”




“Sickbay to Captain Kirk.”

“Kirk here.”

“Your hobgoblin is in the science labs making a nuisance of himself.”

Now it was Jim’s turn to swear. “Understood, Kirk out.”




Sniff. “Ib wanb bo knowb why be bagbetic beild around bis rock—”

“And I want to know why you aren’t in your quarters resting.”

“Cabtin!”

“Spock.”

The crewman Spock had been addressing took that moment to quietly escape.

“I’m waiting for an answer, Commander.”

Sniff. “There wab an experiment—”

“That could wait until you’re better, Commander.”

“But—”

“Tell me the truth, Spock.”

“I reburned to my quarbers for 2.4 hours, bir.”

It was hard to see with Spock’s skin already flushed an unhealthy green but Jim swore he saw his first officer blush.

“And you decided to leave them?”

“I could find nobing—AACHOO—do occuby my abention, bir.”

“You were bored?”

“Collobuially but, yeb, bir.”

“Then I’ll just have to come with you back to your quarters.”

“Cabtin?”Sniff.

“To entertain you of-course”




“You sure keep it hot in here.”

“32.78 ib the obtimal sniff tembature bor—What are you doing?”

“I’m taking off my shirt. If I am going to keep you company I don’t want to overheat and end up sick myself.”

Spock’s eyes were fixed to Jim’s sweat soaked undershirt. “Logical.”

“Into to bed with you.”

“Cabtin, I bould not be a”

“Spock,”

“gracious bost if I laid in bed—”

“Spock!”

“Cabtin?”

“The point of me being here is for me to take care of you. Now go lay down. That’s an order.”

“Yeb, sir.”

“Call me Jim.”

Once Spock was settled into his bunk and entombed in blankets Jim asked. “So when is the last time you ate?”

Sniff “Sir—”

“Jim.”

“Cabtin—”

“We are both off duty. I am taking care of as your friend. Call me Jim.”

“Yes, Jim.”

“That’s better. Now when did you eat last?”

“5.285 hours ago, Jim.” Sniff

“Too long. What would you like to eat?”

“Anything sufficiently nutritious and containing no animal products would be satisfactory, Jim.” Spock was unreasonably gratified to use his captain’s first name.

“But what do you want?”

Sniff “Jim, as I said anything—”

“I know there is something, Spock. If you won’t admit to having an illogical preference tell me what you normally have when you’re sick.”

“Plomeek soup, Jim.” Sniff

“Plomeek soup it is!”

Jim bounced over to the replicator. “Computer, one bowl of plomeek soup, hot.” The order materialized and Jim carried the food back over to the Vulcan. “Does the sustenance meet your lofty standards, Commander?”

Aachoo!“It basses.”

“I’m glad.”

“Are you not going to eat as well, Jim?”

Jim sighed. “I supposed Bones will have my hide if I don’t.” He made his way back to the replicator. “Computer, tomato soup and bread, hot.” A whirl of the machine later and Jim was returning with his own meal.

He settled into the chair beside Spock’s bed and they ate in a comfortable silence. After they finished and the refuse disposed of Jim asked, “So what do you want to do now?”

“I have completed all projects and paperwork that could be done without leaving my quarters, Jim.”

“Right. What do you do for fun?”

“Fun, Jim?”

“Yeah, how do you relax?”

“I meditate, Jim.”

“Uh-huh.” Jim scanned the room. “There has to be—Ah-ha!” Kirk had spotted the antique chessboard.

“Do you play chess, Mr. Spock?”

“It would be illogical for me to have a chess set and not play chess, Jim.”

“That’s what will do then!”

Four games later and Spock was struggling to concentrate on the fifth. Even keeping his eyes open seemed like an impossible feat.

“Checkmate!” Jim declared.

“Indeed, Jim. Again?”

“Spock, you can hardly stay awake.”

“I find playing with you stimulating, Jim.”

Jim refrained from making any inappropriate comments. “We’ll play again, Spock, just not now. You need to rest.”

“Promise?” Spock was already half gone.

“I promise.”

Part 1
Part 2
Part 4
 
 
Current Location: Trek Kink
 
 
Bobbie
06 June 2013 @ 10:08 pm
Most of the dialog actually comes from Star Trek the Original Series S2E09 The Apple.


The second time was during a mission.

We beamed down to the planet. The landing party consisted of the Captain, Ensign Chekov, Yeoman Landon, two guards, and myself. We began scanning the area as Doctor McCoy and two more security officers beamed down.


“Well, I just might stake out a claim and settle down here, Jim.” McCoy was staring at the aesthetically pleasing surroundings. The foliage appeared similar to what one might encounter on Earth.

“It is spectacular, isn't it?” Kirk replied.

“It's a shame to have to intrude.”

“Well, the last scout ship reported some pretty strange sensor readings. Starfleet wants it investigated and the inhabitants contacted. We do what we're told.”

McCoy snorted. “Since when?”

“The soil here is remarkably rich and fertile, Captain. Husbandry would be quite efficacious.” I informed the Captain.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Oh, quite sure. Readings indicate the entire planet is covered with growth like this. Curious, even at the poles there's very little variation in temperature which maintains a planet-wide average of seventy six degrees.”

“I know. Almost impossible.” Kirk was looking around, as if he didn’t believe the area was real.

“It makes me homesick. Just like Russia.” Ensign Chekov interjected.

“More like the Garden of Eden, Ensign.” McCoy said.

“Of course, Doctor. The Garden of Eden was just outside Moscow. A very nice place. It must have made Adam and Eve very sad to leave.”

“Just outside Moscow.” Kirk shook his head. “All right. There's a village about seventeen kilometers away on bearing two three two. We'll head that way.”

It was then that a silvery flower turned to face the away team. Crewman Hendorff walked over to investigate, scanning the planet with his tricorder.

“Captain?”

Before could finish the flower’s stamens shot into his chest. He fell and the doctor pronounced him dead.

It was when the Enterprise attempted to beam his body up that we discovered an even bigger problem.

“We're losing potency in our antimatter pods. I don't think it's serious, but we're looking into it” Lieutenant Commander Scott informed us over the comm.

“What's causing it?” Kirk inquired.

“I'm not sure, sir, but we've run measurements on the electromagnetic field of the planet, and they are a wee bit abnormal. That might have something to do with it.”

“But you say there's nothing to worry about?”

“Well, sir, I didn't exactly say that.”

“Well, stay on top of it. We've got a job to down here. We might as well finish it.”

“I hear it's nice down there.”

“Yeah, it's nice. If we're a little more careful, we shouldn't run into any more trouble.” Kirk sounded concerned.

“I could do with a nice walk in a garden with green leaves and grass.”

“We'll do the walking, Scotty. You get on the antimatter pod. If it gets worse, let me know, we'll beam up. Kirk out.”

“I find that most unusual, Captain.” I said. “There has been nothing in our scans that would suggest-”

“Scotty will handle it.” The Captain cut me off. “We've got a job to do. Turn up anything on your tricorder?”

“Indeed. Subsurface vibrations for miles in all directions.”

“That's strange.”

“Quite strong, fairly regular, artificially produced.”

“Mallory.”

“Yes, sir?”

“We're heading for the village. Avoid contact with the humanoids. I want you and Marple to make a full reconnaissance. And be careful. There may be other dangers besides poisonous plants. Keep in constant communication.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

It was then we discovered we were being watched. The Captain went to investigate, but returned shortly after.

“Whatever it is, it moves like a cat. We've been watched, we'll probably be watched. We're moving out. Formation L.”

We were underway only for 10.2 minutes when I made another find. A rock.

“Interesting. Extremely low specific gravity, some uraninite, hornblende, quartz.” I broke it in half. “Fragile, good cleavage. An analysis should prove interesting.” I tossed one of the halves away. It exploded upon contact with the ground.”

Captain Kirk pushed me to the ground, throwing himself on top of me as if to shield me from the blast. I must admit feeling his body above mine was illogically gratifying.

“Would you mind being careful where you throw your rocks, Mister Spock?” Kirk said as he climbed to his feet.

“Obviously highly unstable, Captain. This could be a find of some importance. In large quantities, it could be a considerable source of power.” Spock replied.

“Garden of Eden, with land mines.” Kirk said.

We continued on for another 11.4 minutes before stopping when Lieutenant Commander Scott commed the Captain. While they conversed Doctor McCoy scanned the area.

“What's that, Bones?” Kirk ended the call and walked over to the Doctor.

“Some of the thorns like those that killed Hendorff. See the stuff on the end? It's like saplin, only it's a thousand times stronger.” McCoy responded.

“Peculiar stuff to find in paradise.”

That is when I noticed the plant moving.

“Jim!”

I pushed the Captain out of the way and took the thorns into my own chest.

“Spock! Spock!” Jim was frantic as McCoy scanned the Commander. “Is he alive?”

“I filled him with enough masiform D to make the whole crew turn handsprings, and he's not responding. Got to get him back to the ship, Jim.”

“Kirk to Enterprise.”

“Scott here, sir.”

“We're beaming up. Notify transporter room.”

I was unconscious for 8.9 hours. I was later informed the Captain refused to leave sickbay the entire time. It was very illogical of him. I suppose it is equally illogical for myself to be gratified by his actions.

Part 1
Part 3
Part 4
 
 
Current Mood: accomplishedaccomplished
 
 
Bobbie
06 June 2013 @ 10:07 pm
For this prompt on Trek Kink:

"Kirk/Spock: Spock notices how concerned and affectionate Kirk gets whenever he gets hurt, so he starts deliberately putting himself in harm's way (and/or pretending to be hurt/ill) so that he gets to experience it more often."

On A03


The first time it happened it was an accident.

The sickbay doors hissed open just before Spock reached them. Kirk exited and then stopped.

“Spock!” The captain said with a smile. “What brings you down here?”

“There was an accident in the labs. I suffered minor chemical burns. I will submit a full report on it as soon as possible, Captain.”

“Minor burns? Why are you letting me stop you? C’mon!” He rushed back into sickbay. “Bones!”

“Knock off your holleren’ ya lout!” The harried Doctor McCoy charged out of his office. “You’ve been gone thirty seconds even you can’t manage to get hurt that fast!”

“Not me. Spock!”

“Spock’s hurt?” The doctored was alarmed.

“Only minor chemical burns, Doctor.” Spock replied from behind Kirk.

“Well what-cha botherin’ me for?” McCoy turned back towards his office. “Get a nurse!”

“But Bones!” Jim whined. “It’s Spock!”

McCoy turned back around. That was a mistake. Jim stared at him with his pretty blue puppy dog eyes.

Bones mumbled something unintelligible before grumbling. “Get your hobgoblin on bed then.”

Spock pushed the satisfaction at being called the Captain’s hobgoblin down. “Your presence won’t be necessary, Doctor. A nurse will be more than adequate to-”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll treat those damned burns. Jim will never leave me alone till I do.”

Spock filed this away as something to puzzle over later and moved onto a bed.

The doctor approached and Spock held out his hands. They were green and blistered. Jim gasped.

“You don’t need to hover.” McCoy commented over his shoulder to Kirk as he ran his scanner over the injury. “Spock will be fine.”

“But aren’t Vulcan hands especially sensitive?” Jim was hovering. “That would be agony for a human.”

“I assure you, Captain, there is no need to worry”

“How many times must I tell you? Call me Jim.”

Bones pushed a hypo to Spock’s neck. “Even the Vulcan can take a hypo better than you, Jim!”

“That’s because you’re gentler with everyone else.” Kirk quipped back absently, more concerned with Spock.

McCoy ran the dermal regenerator over Spock’s hands slowly while Jim kept hovering.

“There. Right as rain.”

“Doctor, how can precipitation be right? You are not logical.”

Bones snorted. “Get your hobgoblin out of here, Jim.”

The Captain walked with Spock to his quarters. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”

“I do not require anything at this time, Captain.” Spock repeated.

“Okay.” Jim seemed reluctant to leave the doorway. “If you need anything let me know.”

“That is not logical. I was not badly injured. I am more than capable of caring for my own needs.”

“Just let me know.” Jim finally left.

Spock didn’t understand. Humans were so illogical sometimes. But if it was illogical why did he wish the Captain had stayed? He needed to meditate.

Part 2
Part 3
Part 4