#Brain is rotating him at rapid speed

[social-muffin]

Another page today!

This time with soft confirmation of one of my all time favourite Hibari headcanons! ☁️💜☁️

First things first! Let's appreciate Kyoya casually Schooling Gamma on the weaknesses in his attack lmao

Not to mention!! I really really like the way the impact is draw. Kyoya is so so pretty here. But also is that blood spatter? How hard did that ball hit?! Gamma did say one hit is enough to kill a man so... Am high key concerned about the amount of injuries Kyoya just ignores mid fights. There shall be more examples of this!

Now!!! To my all time favourite Hibari headcanon! :D

Under the Read More cause I really went somewhere lmao 😅

First I wanna point out what Gamma said here!

Specifically the fact that Kyoya focuses his defensive flame on his left arm when he goes to block something. Now, I don't think TYL!Kyoya was taking the time to think here. He was fighting, relying mainly on year-old, deeply ingrained instincts I'd say.

Which brings me to the idea that!! I think, as a child, Hibari probably sustained some kind of injury on his left side/left arm which forced him to become ambidextrous (which is Canon trivia I think?) and made it so he doesn't have perfect mobility on his left side. He sustains most of his major injuries left actually.

Again!!! Proof!!!!

Hibari vs Mukuro - his biggest injury is on his left shoulder

Hibari vs Xanxus and Mosca - is shot through the left hip/did not manage to dodge in time

And TYL!Kyoya just so happens to instinctively concentrate defensive flames on his left when he goes to block an attack... I don't know if any of this was intended by Amano-Sensei, but I have absolutely convinced myself that Hibari Kyoya has fine motor-levels of mobility impairment and/or chronic pains.

Because. Why not? lemme cram more believable representation in this Boi. :3c

Also! Just to mention/point out. TYL!Kyoya wears his rings right because he needs fine motor skills to insert rings into boxes, but Teen!Kyoya seems to wear his bracelet left. Because I think as a reckless, angry teen, Kyoya would steamroll his own health and capabilities and try to overcompensate in any way that doesn't directly call attention to a perceived weakness.

!!!DISCLAIMER: THIS IS NOT MY ORIGINAL HEADCANON!!!

I don't know who first came up with it, cause the first time I heard of it was when I was lurking on Tumblr years before I made my account. And I was on mobile so there were a very limited amount of posts on the Boi. :(

Whomever you are! I absolutely lovelovelove this headcanon and have carried it with me for years! If you see this and you have proof the idea was yours first, I will absolutely credit you here! 💞💞💞

Also! Give me your opinion! I am doing this to get to know more and interact with khr and/or cloud fans! 💜☁️💜

[murdermeadow]

while you're doing character analysis, thoughts on matthew?

HEHEHEHE MAFFEW. oh he's so silly. I don't have anything super in depth on him cuz he doesn't rotate around my brain at rapid speeds but oh I do love him.

I really enjoy how steadfast he is all the time... and how courageous he is, really. he may be a bit brainless but his heart is very much in the right place and he isn't scared of what it'll take to get there. seeing his interactions with everyone is so lovely <333

also the fact he doesn't question much is very silly to me. he just takes everything at face value which can be both a strength, and a weakness. strength in the fact that he didn't question A's motives, and just let them join in and aid his cause. but also weakness in the fact he never stopped to think about the truth behind what N did and the feelings Na'el was experiencing. very interesting!

also the fact his combat is so stiff is a cool little detail that gets overlooked. compared to the modern martial artist class, which is very fluid but provides less power, his is more rigid to provide the most oomph to his punches.

overall I think he's a very fun character, great to watch and laugh with

[aropride]

As someone whos literal chosen name comes from Jared Kleinman please share some of your thoughts on his character

oh my god. i love him so much. i want to shake him upside down for loose change like a high school bully. i want to pay him to go to therapy. i want to study him like a bug. i think he did some super fucked up stuff motivated by loneliness (and gay love) but i love him so much anyway. my man is out here representing the nodding and confirming community for 8 gay homosexual years. i think he needs psychological help but again i love him that’s not even a criticism it’s just true. i am rotating him in my brain microwave at rapid speeds he is going so fast in there

[zee-has-commitment-issues]

good evening my love, my brain decided to make up for 0 thoughts yesterday by having 1 million today. im gonna narrow it down to 2 for now though fjsjjfjs

1. Song on repeat is a new one, "backyard boy" by Claire Rosinkranz. VERYYY catchy and repeatable. also it's so funny to me bc i actually saw her live bc she opened for Alec Benjamin, and I had no idea who she was and had never heard the song before but!! she had amazing energy on stage and I wish the crowd had been more receptive to it fksksjdj but yeah now I hear the song often on random playlists and I'm glad bc its a bop

2. is a much longer thought fjjsjx. now we all know I'm a Queen Kristina apologist so i was having Thoughts. and theyre more of "these are fascinating scenarios to think about" thoughts than any kind of "I think this actually happened thoughts" but like. I was thinking about how the video scandal was handled and I remembered that one of the things she says about not taking action against August has to do with Wille's denial and how it would seem contradictory. which makes me think she learned it was August AFTER Wille denied his involvement, so I wonder if she actually would have done something if she had known it was August before Wille's interview.

connected thought is that while the crown wasn't doing anything about it, we never actually hear Kristina tell Wille to keep this information from Simon. so like... not telling him that it was August who did it was Wille's choice. but again I'm thinking like... what if Kristina expected Wille to tell Simon, so that Simon could take it to the police and then SOMETHING would have been done without the crown being involved. like Wille assumes that the royal court would have had August's back the whole time but doesn't that fall into the whole "if we get involved then it contradicts your denial" thing? August hadn't been chosen as the spare at that point, so aside from him being a distant relative the crown would have had no actual reason to protect him if Simon had gone to the police.

anyway. I spent half of my lunch break typing this up bc its rotating in my head at rapid speeds so i should probably eat something now. I love you have a good night mwah

Hi love!

So thought one: I love that song! And I love Alex Benjamin too lol.

Thought two: we know that Kristina knew for “a few days” before Wilhelm’s denial but that’s it. We don’t know anything she tried to do in those days. And we know that she didn’t reach out to August. Because August spend the first half of season 2 scared out of his goddamn mind about it. She also does tell Wille to “stay away from Simon” for the time being. We know that she told Wille off-screen that he “could never see [Simon] again” because Wilhelm brings that up in a conversation.

But yeah. We don’t know much about her thought process. And season two did show us much more of her maternal side. Anything is possible. She straight up tells August she doesn’t like him and will be by Wille’s side even if August is the backup. She says that to his face.

Yeah idk.

[4joonkookie]

After Midnight

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Words: 1.8K

Warnings/Tags: shameless smut, fuckboi!Namjoon, choking, strangling, reverse cowgirl,thigh riding, ruined orgasm, angst, fluff, masturbation, mutual masturbation.

Summary: You prey on Namjoon when he can’t be peeled away from his work in the studio and after a slight speed bump, it continues in the bedroom.

OR

(In order) thigh riding, Yoongi Cameo, ruined orgasm, mutual masturbation, (eventual orgasms) and reverse cowgirl.

It’s Midnight.

You’ve been waiting in bed almost 2 hours for Namjoon to finish in the studio. You texted again and he’s been “almost done” for over an hour now.

You’re panty-clad only but throw on his nearby hoodie and quietly head downstairs to fetch him. You gently open the studio door, hoping not to disturb anyone.

“Hey.”, he turns from a computer screen as you close the door behind you.

He quickly turns his attention back to the screen, engrossed in his work. You reach him and turn the rolling chair just enough to squeeze onto his lap.

“Almost, I swear.”, he says, eyes not leaving the computer screen.

“You said that at 10.”, you whine, placing little kisses on his neck.

You brace yourself on his lap and lean forward facing away from him to reach the mouse of the computer, closing all of the applications.

“Oh I like this”, he says, grazing his hands over your near-bare ass and admiring this coincidental view. He’s pleasantly distracted until he sees what you’re doing.

“Wait , wait, wait, I'm not do__…”, he begins to scold you.

“You’re done.”, you look at him convincingly and nod, turning to straddle him face-to-face in the chair. You bluff, “...unless you’d like me to go.” beginning to stand from his lap.

He uses a large arm to pull you back straight away and locks his lips with yours.

“Mmph… 20 minutes...”, he negotiates between heated kisses. Just give me 20 minutes and I’ll head upstairs and we can finish this.”, he says, grinding his lap up.

“We haven’t started anything yet.”, you groan as you reach for the waistband of his shorts.

He lifts you by your waist and spreads your legs over one of his thighs. He begins guiding your hips back and forth and you both groan into the feeling.

“We can start like this.” he says.

“Not while you’re working.”, you counter, wanting, needing to be more important.

“No?” he says, not letting his lips leave yours but rolls the both of you back to the computer.

He lifts you off his lap briefly to raise one leg of his shorts and pulls your panties to the side. Your lips hug his bare thigh, dragging your swelling center over his smooth skin. He pushes his leg up, causing you to cry out.

The moisture flowing allows you to slide easily, Namjoon keeping his leg firm in place. The increase in sensation makes your mind foggy but you tease anyway:

“And exactly how many girls have you convinced to grind on you while you work in this studio?, you ask, not disrupting the rhythm you've created.

“None that look as good in my sweater as you do”, he says softly, sliding a hand under the sweater and feeling up your breasts underneath.

Your core slips and slides on his thigh, orgasm hot in your belly. You try to distract yourself to pull him farther from even considering touching that computer again.

“Mmmm...and how many girls have worn your sweater?”, you moan in his ear, grinding with pleasure.

“None that look as sexy with my hand wrapped around their neck as you do.”, he replies, not missing a beat. Damn. His hand in the sweater grips around your throat with light pressure, Namjoon eoying watching your boobs bounce while you move on him.’

“More?” he asks.

“More.”,you reply, moans becoming needier and breathier.

The sweater rides higher on your body when he squeezes your neck a bit tighter, pushing you down on his thigh harder. You’re swept away, hips moving instinctively, chasing the climax.

“Come, baby. Make a mess on me.” He swoons and tightens his grip on your throat ,catapulting you to your orgasm. Your legs are shaking when the studio door swings open.

Only you can see a mortified Yoongi squint his eyes shut, use a hand to cover his already shut eyes and never lets the other hand leave the door handle before slamming it back shut.

“Oh my God.” you say, humiliated and softly and drop your head to Namjoon’s shoulder.

“ ...I forgot.”,he says, frozen with his hands on your waist. He was expecting Yoongi.

“You knew he was coming?!”, you grip his shoulders, feeling your blood boil.

“I asked him to come down to help me finish_”

“Ugh!” You grunt, interrupting. You angrily hop off his lap. “Have him finish you off then, see if I care!”.

You storm out of the studio, not even minding Yoongi still outside the door with a view of your bare ass, trotting away.

Stomping upstairs, you return to the bedroom. You take off Namjoon’s sweatshirt, your body overheated with embarrassment and ruined orgasm. You shut off the lights, hide under the blanket and hope to fall asleep and put off the discomfort and frustration until morning.

You expect Namjoon to stay with Yoongi in the studio and are surprised when a flash of light pans the room when the door opens. The lights turn on and he laughs when he sees your curled up body under the blankets, surely pouting. He jumps on the bed and wrestles you out from underneath the blanket.

“You pull tight at the covers and fight to keep shielded.” He finds your ribs on your blanketed form and tickles you until you let go of the sheets. You greeted with his sweet smile.

“Don’t be embarrassed…” he begins.

“But I am.”, you snap back more roughly than you intend. “I’m embarrassed that I had to literally hunt and pin you down to try and get laid.”, you're noticing real feelings coming out under the heat of embarrassment. “That I had to all but beg to tear you away from your work.”

He hangs his head in realization. He looks at you to speak. “I'm sorry, you’re right...”, he says, sincerely. He continues “....but I'm so glad you did...”, insufferably sweet.

“ Well, next time I won't.”, you reply, still cross with him. “I’ll just take care of it myself.”

“Only if you let me watch.”, he teases and begins to stroke your body and kiss your neck. It’s enticing but your ego is still bruised and you’re not ready to give back in to him yet.

“Take off Your pants.”, you demand and gesture at him to sit on the end of the bed. He complies readily, undresses and sits with his exposed cock on one end of the bed.

You pull the still-sticky panties off your body and get on all-fours to arrange pillows on the opposite end of Namjoon, revealing your ass to him. You mimic the view he’d enjoyed earlier. You gather several pillows to prop your back up and use one to sit on.

You settle yourself on the pillow and spread your thighs apart to expose your glistening cunt, still wet. Namjoon’s cock swells further, eyes darting across your body while his brain catches up to his dick.

You begin by dragging some wetness above to your clit. Your leg twitches when you move over the sensitive nub. You use the flat pads of 2 fingers to circle around, breath quickening.

Namjoon runs an antsy hand through his hair while exhaling deeply, mesmerized.

“Fuck baby…”, he groans while grabbing at the base of his leaking cock.

You spread wetness around your opening before sinking your middle and ring finger inside. Using your other hand to spread your lips apart so Namjoon can see.

He moans and uses building precum to turn his wrist around his shaft.

The image of him working his own cock propels you faster, rubbing faster and your pelvis instinctively grinds against your own fingers.

Namjoon strokes up and down his length. “You sure you don’t want to come over here, baby?”, he growls, tempting you with his dripping cock.

You look at him thoughtfully for a half-second before nearly pouncing on him across the bed. You’d kill to get that moment on his thighs back. It’s an offer that can’t be denied.

You straddle the same thigh and settle yourself on either side. Namjoon is keen on your idea and replaces his hand around your neck.

“Where were we?”, he whispers, setting a rhythm with his lap.

“I was telling you how sexy you looked with my hand wrapped around your neck…”

It’s just a few rolls Of your hips before the sensation captures you again.

“...and how I wanted that pretty pussy to make a mess on me”, he praises.

You start to see white when his grip tightens around your neck.

“Mmm...Joonie” you moan as your peak takes you over.. He keeps his grip tight on your throat until your orgasm and hips roll slower.

“Turn around.'' he says. You can hardly make out what he’s saying in your blissed state but turn to allow him to envelope his cock inside you.

He groans when you bottom out, You rotate your hips, grinding over his shaft until Namjoon can’t control his breathing.

He lays little slaps on your skin, grabbing and groping your ass cheeks.

You rotate your hips, grinding over his shaft.

“mmmph_ I love the way you move.”, he praises. You glance back to find him with one hand behind his neck and the other guiding your ass as it bounces, eyes fixated on the work on his cock.

You arch your back, and he uses his hand to keep you high up, impossibly deep. He pushes down on your shoulders as he thrusts from below you, eventually lifting himself up to his knees for a better angle. He still pushes the small of your back to guide you around his cock.

He gorans out and moves faster causing you to lose your balance. He doesn’t let you slip off but catches you bent on all fours, never losing stride.

“I’m gonna make a mess of that pussy, baby.”, he threatens as he fucks his orgasm into you. He keeps his rapid pace and bottoms out a final time.

He falls beside you and gives your ass a rewarding rub.

“I’m sorry.”, he begins. “It’s hard for me to walk away from work”, he says, still catching his breath. “ But you’re a welcome distraction. and I love it when you ‘hunt and pin’ me down.” he kisses you.

In a teasing tone, he continues, “And how many guys have watched you touch yourself like that?”

He looks truly curious but you leave him guessing anyway.

“None that look as sexy watching me as you do”. You tease back as you stroke his cheek.

[chowtrolls]

is there anything we can do to cheer you up a little? asks for certain trolls, or an ask theme for many muses? im sorry for your loss...

I greatly appreciate the sentiment, more than you can possibly know <3 life is rocky, but i love that i can always trust the community of friends here to be kind to my heart when things get rough.

At the current moment, I feel foggy, so I’ll probably try to sleep. Asks for tomorrow would be a wonderful distraction! I don’t have any specific muses on my mind currently, times like these my brain tends to rotate through them at rapid speeds trying to find one that makes me happy. Or I may just stick to Bruuno! I apologize for not having a better answer. Brain soup.

I know i just started an arc for Chowow, but I kindly request if you did send asks, to not send any for him. I regret not taking the time to finish his arc and now I’m unsure if or when I’ll be able to.

[ayatosmullet]

*thinks about Diluc* *thinks about Diluc* *thinks about Diluc and rotates him 365° in my brain at rapid speeds*

[feliix]

Beck & Call ✦ MYG (18+)

✦  Pairing: Yoongi x Reader ✦ Word count: 1.4k ✦  Rating: M  

✦  Genre: smut, crack, a tad bit of fluff, FWB!au

✦  Summary: All hell breaks loose when your brother calls you while you’re in the middle of hooking up with his best friend

✦  Warnings: PWP, explicit smut, creampie, phone sex (but not the kind you’re thinking of), Yoongi has a big dick

✦  Requested by my bby @hobiance​ ‘requesting one yoongi + vodka pls’

✦ A/N: Thank you to the lovely @namjoonsdove​ for helping me come up with the title and @jintobean​ and @hobiance for helping me figure out the banner for this sucker ily all ♡

✦ Written for the BHQ Drinks and Drabbles game hosted by @bangtan-dreamland​

“Fuck,” you moan as Yoongi drives his hips into your ass, “right there.”

Hooking up with your older brother’s best friend was never in the cards, well, not until you actually started hooking up that is. Yoongi was a good fuck, nothing more. Relationships weren’t exactly your thing, and even if they were there was no way in hell Jin would ever approve.

Yoongi’s large hands grip your hips as he thrusts into you from behind, his length reaching deep inside you from the angle he was holding your body. You hadn’t been at it for very long, but sex with Yoongi was always a relay rather than a marathon. Several quick and variating rounds just worked so much better than one long one. That way it was easier to take the emotions out of things, just scratch the itch (or many itches), and go your separate ways.

You’re pushed forward with one noticeably harder rut, your face meeting the mattress as the force from Yoongi’s thrusts deepens. A string of curses leaves his lips as his tip swipes past your cervix, the size of his length reaching new crevices each time he’s inside of you.

“So close,” you moan as your eyes clamp shut, focused on reaching your sweet release. To your demise, your focus is soon cut short. A bright light illuminates the room from his bedside table, quick and rapid vibrations following soon after.

Yoongi’s head cocks up immediately as he focuses on the name of the screen, his eyes widening a bit when he sees the caller ID, “Its Jin.”

“I’m not answering that,” you pant as his pace begins to pick up in speed, your breath soon leaving your chest.

“If you don’t he’s just gonna call again,” Yoongi grunts between thrusts, not slowing his movements one bit. Answering the phone was a bad idea, but bad ideas were kind of Yoongi’s niche, or else you wouldn’t be in his bed right now.

Without pulling out he reaches over you and to the side, grabbing your phone placed on the nightstand beside the bed. With just one tap of the screen, he was accepting the call, placing the phone to your ear.

“Jinnie, hi!” You speak in the sweetest voice, trying your best to mask the lustful tone that had taken over your voice just seconds prior.

For Yoongi this was just a game, seeing if you could last being railed by him while you were on the phone. It was the anticipation that got him off, knowing that the person on the other line had no idea what was going on.

“Hey, I just wanted to know if you were going to be home for dinner? Are you still at Chaeyoung’s?”

“Yep! OOF–”

Yoongi smiles as his hips thrust into you with such force, knocking you forward just inches away from the bed frame. You look back at him with a sneering look on your face, agitated with his antics, but that wasn’t enough for him to stop.

“Everything alright?”

“All good! I just uh,” you stutter as your brain wracks for a response, “I tripped!”

“Oh? Okay well–”

“Actually Jinnie this isn’t a great time to talk I’m in the middle of something, can I call you later?”  Your lip worries between your teeth as you try to suppress a groan, knowing you wouldn’t be able to last much longer and refusing to have an orgasm while on the phone with your brother.

“Well actually I was–”

“Okay great! See you at dinner bye!”

And with that you were snatching the phone out of Yoongi’s hand, ending the call and tossing your phone back off to the side. “You did great,” Yoongi praises as he squeezes your sides in reassurance. Heat rises to your cheeks instinctively; you’re thankful that he can’t see the small smile creeping onto your face in the position that you were in.

“Don’t get all soft on me now, Min,” you retort as you arch your back to give him a better angle. That high you were just inches away from had faded, but you were desperate to get it back.

A deep chuckle rips from his throat as his hands tighten on your waist, increasing his pace again to satisfy you. Focused on getting back on track you rock your ass backwards, hands gripping the sheets to give you better traction.

Yoongi’s movements were beginning to slow and become more forceful, the sounds of his skin colliding with yours and the deep moans echoing from his throat filling your ears. Your chest heaves deeper and heavier with each of his movements, soft whines bubbling past your lips. 

Lewd sounds fill the room as the squelch from your arousal begins to drip down your thighs. “So wet for me,” he groans, teeth clenching as you squeeze tightly around him. The familiar knot in your stomach was finally beginning to make its way back to you. The repetitive tap of Yoongi’s tip deep inside you had you too far gone. With one powerful thrust, you were coming undone around him. Your legs soon begin to shake, the force from your orgasm too strong for you to handle.

A gentle scream escapes your mouth as you ride out your high, Yoongi’s pace only quickening to grant himself an orgasm of his own. The familiar tingling sensation begins to rush through your veins as oversensitivity starts to set in. When your eyes slam shut all you can see are stars, small white blotches blinding your vision as your pussy continues to spasm around him.

Yoongi’s thrusts persist through your orgasm, leaving your legs shaking and all you can offer is the tightening spasms your pussy. Your clenching around him rapidly, milking him for everything he’s worth.

You aren't even able to catch your breath as your orgasm begins to subside. Yoongi is too busy pounding into you, his hips meeting your ass with a slap as he bottoms out.

He doesn’t have to pull out, thankfully you’re on birth control. All that's on your mind is being filled to the brim with Yoongi’s cum. You’re aching for his release, squeezing your core as hard as you can to ease it from him, “Want you to fill me up.”

The grip he holds on your waist tightens, his face scrunching as he focuses on chasing his high. With a few especially hard thrusts he was collapsing over you, holding you close as his cum paints your walls. His heavy breathing fanned over the back of your neck, the perspiration from your body’s mixing like a sexy sweat cocktail.

Yoongi’s body relaxes as he pulls out of you slowly, a trail of cum following in its path and dripping down your thigh. The weight of Yoongi’s body flops down onto the mattress next to you as he lets out an exhausted grunt. Your actions follow soon after, extending your limbs out and laying down to rest your muscles. You know you didn’t have much time until you had to get home. Jin would be there to ask questions if you kept him waiting much longer.

“Come back after dinner?”

Your ears perk up at his words as you rotate your head in his direction. It was odd for you to see him more than twice a week, let alone twice a day. For a moment you’re convinced your hearing things, but by the relaxed look on his face and sparkle of his eyes, it was hard to tell.

“A-after dinner?”

“You could spend the night,” he starts, his words beginning to quicken as he grows anxious at his offer, “if you want to.”

Yoongi’s cheeks begin to grow read as he waits for your answer. It was never his plan to make your situation a serious or permanent thing. But after months of sneaking around, those underlying feelings had begun rising to the surface – he wanted things to be permanent.

An awkward silence fills the air as he awaits your response. A thick gulp travels down his throat, his fingers searching for a loose string or anything to fidget with to ease his nerves.

“I want to,” you say very matter-of-factly, the expression on your face holding true as you try to read his. His face was already red and worn from all the action earlier, but the pink blush creeping onto on his cheeks was due to something else.

“I’ll be back,” and with a soft kiss that you place to his blushing cheek, you are on your way out.

‘Beck & Call’ is copyright 2020 @parksfilter​, all rights reserved. Please do not repost on any platform or translate without permission.

[raevenlywrites]

The Ties That Bind 19 of ???

I couldn’t sleep this night, and there was little point in trying. So I stayed among my people, hoping my presence would reassure them where my words might have failed. I had never been more grateful for my people’s habit of holding our emotions close; it kept my fury with my mother’s milquetoast words at a manageable distance.

She was better than this. I’d heard her give inspiring speeches all my life, words that inspired hope where it was waning, fervor where it was lost. I could only view tonight as an act of sabotage, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. What would she have to gain from undermining me, and the peace I was trying to build? Was it not what we all were working towards?

On the one hand, I wanted very much to speak with her, to demand an explanation. But on the other... well, I had sort of given up. From the moment the Disa suggested marriage, my mother had been shut down. There was more at work here than the surface negotiations of peace. My mother seemed deeply disturbed at the notion of my life deviating from her plan for it--and that was just too bad. It was my life, my reign, my people. Her ways and her mother’s ways and her mother’s mother’s ways had not led to any resolution. I was willing to try something new.

But I was never alone with my thoughts for too very long. It was rare for the Shardae to mingle nowdays outside of festivals and holy days, so many were eager for my attention. Many offered wishes for my continued good health, simple excuses to engage and be near. More than I wished expressed their condolences for our “wasted trip” out to the Mistari, which I politely redirected back towards the news of Irene’s expectancy. Those that topic did not turn away expressed interest in my singing in the birth, and did that mean that I would be returned to my work with the midwives, now that I would no longer be needed on the battlefields? It was an excellent question, and one I hadn’t considered, but found that my answer was an eager yes. It did much to buoy my spirits to think my family gifts returned to acts of growth rather than simply easing the pain of loss. Perhaps even my mother--

I didn’t care to think on my mother overly much this night.

So I stayed among my people until well after moonset, making note of those faces that stayed, those that seemed cautiously hopeful, and those who’s distrust and disdain I’d had to redirect. There weren’t many who lived directly in and around the Keep; I knew most by family name at least, from the Lyssia tailors to the jewelers who ran the Aurita, to the Silvermead blacksmiths and soldiers.

One I did know by first name, Jeanne Kejamarl, approached me much later in the evening. I remembered her from our shared school days, when I was still learning to shape my letters and reading only the simple sentences chalked on the board. The children of the Keep were all raised and educated together, because there were so few. So while I had little cause to interact with the Kejamarl tanneries directly, I knew Jeanne by name, though I wouldn’t call her a friend now, the way I did Elanor. Which I only considered because of how utterly forward her question was.

“Forgive my asking, Shardae, but why wasn’t Captain Andreios by your side this evening?”

I blinked, long and slow and foolish. My brain felt like thick mud, unwilling to allow my thoughts to rotate and pivot this conversation change with any speed.

“I know it’s not my place to question, but if you’re not going to announce him your alastair....”

Jeanne’s cheeks colored, and I realized with shock and horror the direction this conversation was headed, too late to head it off. She was interested in Rei, and I had dragged my feet so long that others were wondering if they might court him.

It wasn’t entirely uncommon for young adults to pursue one another. Yes, alastairs were often chosen for children in their infancy, but tragically all too often, those alastairs and pairbonds did not live to see adulthood. And while it was traditional for men to take the role of alastair--chivalrous protectors--it wasn’t unheard of for a would be pairbond to express her interest in being pursued. And Rei was handsome, and highly ranked, and courteous and thoughtful and dependable--

The thought of his lips against mine came surging back, filling my own cheeks with heat. Luckily, Jeanne misinterpreted my reaction for embarrassment at the topic--or maybe not so much a misinterpretation--and quickly backed off.

“I’m so sorry, m’lady, I shouldn’t have asked.” She ducked her head, chin all but tucked to her chest as she tried to make herself small. “It’s just after all the rumors of the Arami’s proposal, and with Rei’s absence--“

“He didn’t propose!”

I snapped a too rapid answer in a furious whisper, too caught up in my own snarl of emotions to keep my usual decorum.

“I don’t know who started that stupid rumor but I would really appreciate it if people stopped speculating about my private life!”

Jeanne looked up, horror warring with curiosity. It was utterly unlike me to be so emotional--and if she was a lover of gossip, this was too good to miss. I cursed inwardly and did my best to regain my composure.

“Jeanne, please. It has been an excruciatingly long day, week, all of it, and I am tired of my love life being the topic of so much discussion. It’s unseemly, don’t you think?”

“Yes, m’lady, of course. I shouldn’t--“ “No, you shouldn’t. And I would ask you please to keep others from discussing it as well? I have enough to deal with right now.” I sighed, hoping to use the show of emotion to my advantage. “I hope to start my own family under the light of peace, not in the shadow of my brother’s funeral.”

“Yes, m’lady. Gods above, yes of course. I’m so sorry.”

I reached out, laying the lightest touch on her arm. “Please. I don’t need your apologies, just your consideration. You knew me when I still couldn’t form my S’s front ways.” She smiled at the shared memory, and how ridiculous it was that I couldn’t write out “Shardae”. “Please give me the room to be just Danica where I can. There are so many places where that won’t be possible.”

“Of course, my--Danica.”

I smiled, trying to positively reinforce the behavior. My mother had become distant from our people, and by extension, me. So many of them had expressed a desire to see us out and among them again. If I could befriend my people again, help them see this shift as a positive one, become their darling, golden young queen, perhaps it could help me regain the power our family had lost to the generals. I could sell them an idealistic young family, a vision of the future that was shiny and bright.

Maybe, if I sold it hard enough, I might believe it myself.

“Rei is back with the serpiente, helping keep the Arami safe.” Jeanne’s eyes widen, and I nod, leaning closer as if in confidence. “There’s no one else I would trust with so high a priority. Here among my people, I could not possibly be safer. But I worry for Zane--as my mother said, this is an extremely brave thing for him to be doing. I hope my people will greet him with courtesy and dignity, but I am too pragmatic to trust his safety to anyone less than Rei.”

There. Maybe using his nickname twice will drive the point home. Of course, a part of me whispers that if I just declare my intentions on him here and now that would end all of it. I have no reason not to. Everyone assumes I’m as good as his pairbond. But for some reason I don’t--probably because I worry the story will grow in the telling, much like my “proposal” from Arami Zane. No, when I’m ready for word to spread, it will be through an official announcement, not from wildfire gossip from an old schoolmate. I release her arm and take a step back, letting some of my weariness show on my face.

“Now I think its time I take my leave. We all have a big day tomorrow. I should try to sleep while I can.”

I take another step back and melt into my golden hawk’s form, trusting whoever is on my most personal guard duty to peel off and follow as they always do. Only I don’t fly up to my balcony on the far side of the Keep. Instead, I turn my flight towards the east, and the waiting encampment of serpiente. - I am not so foolish as to have not considered this to be a potential invasion. I have let a score of serpiente warriors within an hour’s flight of the heart of my kingdom. But as I have said, more times than I care to, I refuse to behave as if Zane will betray me. It will either happen or it won’t. If a cobra is destined to slay a hawk again, then I have made peace with it being me. Our people began with one golden queen, if they are to end with simply one, then Fate will have her way no matter what we design. And honestly, they could do worse with a conquering monarch than Zane Cobriana. From what I have seen, he is fair, just, considerate, and generally in favor of art, self-expression, the well-being of his people--

I bank and circle back, realizing  my mental wandering has allowed my wings to wander as well. I am too tired to think, but thinking is all I seem to be able to do. I want to see Rei, to wrap myself in the warmth and comfort of his arms to maybe try another few kisses, softer and gentler this time, to reassure myself that my life has not turned completely upside down. Instead I am circling around the encampment, having flown right over it while thinking of Zane Cobriana’s qualities as a king.

I realize as I circle in to land that partially my mistake was due to the sheer size of the gathering. I don’t know what my distracted mind must have made of the numerous campfires now dotting the fields, a small village perhaps, but it is certainly too many for the two score of soldiers or so that should be out here. This gathering is nearly twice that, centered around a ring of figures--

Dancing.

Zane and Adelina are dancing, with six other serpents besides. They weave in and out of each others’ steps, intricate rings within rings, scales flashing in every color of the rainbow.

Serpiente warriors can grow a scaled demi form, much like the large, angelic wings we avians sprout. While ours are used to give us an aerial advantage in battle, theirs provides a natural amrour that only the keenest arrow can pierce. And much like our wings can be used as an expression of beauty, an elegant backdrop to fine garments and jewelry, so are the serpiente before us using their scales now. Lines of color sparkle like living veins of gemstones, from the iridescent white of Adelina’s viper, to rich reds and greens of dancers I do not know, to the shimmering obsidian of Zane’s cobra.

They are a perfect complement to each other, his dark hair and scales reflecting red in the firelight, hers glinting gold like a low harvest moon. They sway and swirl, moving around each other and through their fellow dancers as if bound by an invisible chord. It is heartbreakingly beautiful, and I understand why every one of my subjects simply stands and stares. It is like nothing any of us have ever seen before, except maybe the soldiers.

I remember the ready pose Zane and Adelina fall into so easily, and thinking how perfectly it would transition to either dance or combat. I am mesmerized by the dance; I can only imagine how impossible they might seem to fight. I am struck with the sudden realizaiton that our survival til now seems nothing short of miraculous. Without the falcon’s am haj to allow us to fight with such lethality from the skies--

I want nothing more to do with this line of thought, so I land, picking a spot far enough away from the dancing serpents so as not to startle anyone. The avians in the crowd all know the silhouette of my hawk’s form, but it is late, and I am trying to be discrete. Still, several soldiers peel away, bowing swiftly as they make a report.

“No trouble yet, your majesty. As you suggested, the serpiente are well able to sense intent. None were allowed past the outer perimeter that were anything other than curious.” Curious. I should have thought of that. Raymond steps up at my side, and I realize he was one of the ravens flanking me. “Erica flew in during your mother’s speech, m’lady, with a message from Zane and Andreios. Neither one of them say any harm in letting a few come and see, but--well, I wished they’d said it was more than just a few. I never would have fielded such a decision for you if I’d thought--“

“It’s alright,” I say, holding up a hand. “If Zane allowed it, and Andreios cleared it, then I trust their judgement. I didn’t even think folks would venture out, so they’re steps ahead of me.” I gave Raymond a tired smile. “In all things security, I don’t mind letting Rei make decisions. It’s matters of battle and war I wish to be consulted on. Allowing a few--okay, more than a few--curious folk out to meet our guests...”

I trailed off, feeling sick at the idea of how poorly this could have gone. We were treading the most precarious line, and I’d barely thought any of it out. And Zane had simply come, trusting.

I should have worked something else out. I never should have asked him to come here--

“Dani.”

Rei was suddenly before me, undoubtedly alerted to my presence here. Too tired to care anymore who saw or what they thought, I let myself fall into his arms. This was all I’d been seeking. I hadn’t meant to stumble onto more trouble, more problems--I just wanted to be held, and get some sleep.

“Do you have a tent sent up?” I asked, trying at least to keep my voice between just the pair of us.

“For you? No, but we can--“

I shook my head. “Yours is fine. I’m exhausted, we’re in the field. There’s no where safer for my than by your side, right?”

Rei sighed, but I could see him caving in. “I mean, ostensibly you were safer back at the Keep, but yes.” He tucked his arm over my shoulder, with all the familiarity of an alastair in private. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

The Ties That Bind Tag list: @thehellinsideyourhead @therecouldbecolorsandlove @adventuresofacreesty @writing-with-melon @rainydaydarling @faithfire

Raev’s Gen Tag List (should I tag you guys in this? It IS a thing I wrote. I’m gonna say yes unless you guys are like “no of course not we’re sick of hearing about your stupid fic for a twenty year old book XD)

No one has complained yet so yall gonna keep getting tagged :P

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[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “The Shatter Protocol”

Lol I think you guys are going to totally hate me for this one. Its exciting tho, so there is that. Please don’t hunt me down in my sleep :)

“Commander on Deck!”

Commander Vir took a seat in the captain’s chair spinning around to face front, “Status report!” He barked hands gripped firmly to the seat arms jaw set.

“Rundi radar systems have detected twenty burg short cruisers and at least a dozen kree orbiting satellites, sir, its the whole fucking armada!”

“Keep yourself under control lieutenant! We’ve had worse.” And the way he said it made the crew almost believe him, “Are those satellites armed.”

There was a pause, “No sir, I don’t detect any weapons, mostly just power banks and mild warp capabilities.” 

Off to his left, Sunny had taken her seat at the weapons station, “All weapons systems online.”

“Order the first and fifth fighter squad to deploy.” He said, “Have them pull around back.” He turned to the communications officer, “Get the GA on the line and get me more ships! I don’t care if i have to sell my soul to the GA, but we need more firepower. We aren’t going to win this if we can’t flank them.”

“Yes sir.” He engaged the radar screen, and deployed the forward cameras even as the front blast shields closed over his line of vision, only to be replaced by a projected image of the same.

“Commander, burg warships moving into position.”

He clenched his teeth into a snarl, “Why won't these bastards just give up already.”

“Sir Kozlov and Ho have arrived, and are maneuvering into position.”

“Good. Get me the Burg command on the line. I want to talk to them.”

“Yes sir.”

He waited there for a moment, hands still resting lightly on the sides of his seat, though he did engage the manual controls with one thumb as he did so resting his feet lightly on the pedals and moving his hands to the control sticks.

A projected image appeared in his vision, and it was big and ugly, with too many legs, a couple of mandibles, and some twitching antennae. Commander Vir wished he could meet the thing in person, simply to spit in the creature’s face.

“Commander.” it hissed, it's sibilant clattering voice making him want to open up his skull and itch at his brain.

“I’m afraid you have e at somewhat of a disadvantage…. I don’t know your name.”

The creature hissed, “We are on equal playing fields, commander.” It placed a little emphasis on the last word.

Commander Vir kept his face neutral, “You and I have never been on equal playing fields.”

“I think we have.”

“Well no, you see because ever conflict humanity has had with the burg, we’ve won. Three times. Some of your peop’e were defeated by army ants, so forgive me if I am skeptical.”

INstead of flying into a fit of rage like he had become accustomed too, this creature simply chittered its mandibles, “That will change soon enough.”

“Don’t suppose I can convince you to surrender?”

“No, I don’t suppose you can.”

Commander Vir tapped his fingers  against the chair seat, “Than I suppose you will die like the rest of your predecessors.”

The burg commander, still calmly, “There are worse things than death, commander.” ANd then the line went dead.

Commander Vir frowned, but was cut off from his thoughts, “Sir, The burg ship is preparing to fire.” “Beginning evasive maneuvers.” At the back of the ship, the rear thrusters pulsed and they shot downwards jolting much of the crew in their seats. They couldn’t feel the projectile pass, as there was no blast radius in space, but the COmmander’s quick maneuver had stopped them from taking a round straight to the nose fo the ship.

“Sunny, fire when ready.”

“Yes sir, predictive engine has been booted.”

“Predictive engine?”

“Sunny flipped up the joystick on her weapons module, “Yes sir, I designed it for times just like this.”

Commander Vir watched nervously as she worked, finger twitching towards the trigger on his joysticks, but she was the weapons expert, it was time to let her work.

Two shots fired one slightly delayed from the other. The first of them aimed for the far right deck of the burg ship. It missed entirely as they maneuvered to the side and straight into the path of the second.

Commander Vir had never seen a hit so solid in his entire life.

He blinked in shock as pieces of debris exploded into space around the burg ship.

“Direct hit, sir.” She said. If she had had time to think, she would have been pleased with herself. The predictive engine she had spoken of earlier, was a piece of engineered software she had designed just for this occasion. It used probability, mathematics and fast calculation to determine the most likely course of action for a ship maneuver in comparison to a fired shot. In this way she could predict her target’s movement to an accuracy of 65% and almost up to 72% if she played her cards right.

Commander Vir tightened his hands on the joysticks, “What do you need me to do, Sunny.”

“You do whatever you need to, commander, and I will match you.”

She has sent off anther careful volley of shots, slowly rotating the guns in pairs of two to give the others time to cool off.

Bright white lights lit up the vast darkness of space as the two groups began firing back and forth at each other. The Celzex ship glowed an almost neon purple for a second before a massive discharge cut across the intervening space at speeds nearly incomprehensible.

A burg ship exploded, almost atomized on the spot.

The burg line broke, and dissolved into chaos breaking left and right. Commander Vir maneuvered his ship to the side, and cut forward, dancing the massive ship like a delicate ballet dancer across the stage of space.

As they cut by, Sunny armed close range ballistic cannons, sending a rapid onslaught of tungsten rods straight through the burg hull depressurizing an entire side of the ship. Captain Vir rolled to the side out of the way of another line of fire.

Outside, the fighters swarmed around his ship keeping burg fighters at bay. At a distance, the fight almost appeared like a swarm of bees around the head of a bear, one lumbering, the the others fast and graceful.

The burg tried to cut around to flank them from the back, but Captain Kozlov and Ho were waiting for them. The two crossed their firing fields, and decimated anyone who was stupid enough to enter. The Rundi ship covered the Celzex ship with it’s shielding, dropping it only on occasion when the Celzex’s weapons had charged back to full power.

Their weapons were slow, but when they hit, they absolutely decimated whatever they touched.

The ship shook as one of the burg fighters brought a line of rapid gunfire down their hull. Commander Vir cursed, knowing he could do nothing against an attack from such a small fighter.

Two more sharp blinks of light in the middle of space, and a Terasaki ship appeared escorted by another Rundi imperial.

Their appearance on the fighting stage was so sudden, the Burg had no time to react.

The Terasaki, as innovative as they were  shot off a projectile towards two burg ships. It missed entirely, or so it seemed unti l there was a bright pulse of blue light, and the two ships jolted suddenly sideways as the absolutely massive magnet pulled them together.

They did not remain their long as the Celzex took the opportunity blasting both ships and the Tesraki magnet into atoms.

However, while their shields had been momentarily down, the burg had fired another volley, and the rundi ship rocked violently to the side. At least six burg ships concentrated their attack on the limping cruiser as its shields flickered on and off. The concentration was too high, and commander Vir maneuvered around and back behind them as a pice of the RUndi shi was blasted off. Bodies were sucked out of the open compartment and into the vastness of space.

He was flanking them now having turned a full 180 from their their original position.

Sunny humed in pleasure.

On board the ship’s most powerful railguns fired in quick succession. Commander vir jolted in his seat as the huge weapons bounced the backwards forcing the rear thrusters to fire in response, keeping them steady.

The first round blasted apart the Burg shield, and the second round cut right into the burg engine bay.

He was almost blinded by the bright light as the ship seemed to atomize right there on the spot as the Burg warp core was perforated, and the half that did not atomize imploded. The sudden destabilization of the warp drive was powerful enough to create a rift in the airspace that immediately warped the back halves of two and the front halves of two burg warships into oblivion.

Debris Pelted their companions mostly warded off by shields, but some scored lucky hits on the ships that had already had their shields damaged.

The Celzex took care of the rest blasting an entire field of burg ships into powder.

That was when Commander Vir sensed something to be very very wrong. He didn’t know what for sure, but a pit had formed in his stomach causing his heart to drop into his pelvis. The battlefield around them was chaotic, the burg having switched sides.

He was in back now, and there seemed to be a lot less burg ships than originally.

But where…? He wasn’t sure what made him turn the ship around, but he did, and when he did he saw the reason for his sinking stomach.

“Commander come in do you read, we are sensing a power anomaly behind you.”

He barely heard the words that came over the coms, as he watched the final satellite drop into position in the ring, and when it did a massive pulse of blue power erupted from around them.

When his vision cleared, what lay before him, caused the pit in his stomach to bore it’s way out of his body, his metaphorical heart sinking onto the floor.

Desperately, he fired all thrusters full forward. 

The massive churning black abyss before them was powerful enough to warp space around it. Rings of light rolled at its edges pulsing around and over like a halo, though the center was of the deepest most malevolent black he had ever seen.

Screaming erupted on the bridge.

His ship jolted, and without his bidding slowly moving forward despite their full thrust backwards.

“FIRE THE WARP CORE NOW!” He screamed his hearing popping out to be replaced only with a ringing.

“FIRING WARP CORE.” One of the front panels of the harbinger broke off and went careening towards the black pit.

The ship’s hull screeched.

There was a sharp pulse, and then a jolt. That rent the air around them.

He almost passed out with the powerful wave of warp energy that blasted over the ship, and then died.

“WARP CORE MALFUNCTIONING!”

INside his heart was hammering, his throat was tight and his eyes stung. He stared at the gaping blackness before them and it’s swirling halo.

Comms lit up, “Commander we can’t get any closer, commander!”

It was at that moment he knew.

Suddenly, very suddenly his heart slowed, his breathing evened out. HIs eyes stopped prickling and despite his skin being cold he did not shake. He was still in the command chair as chaos reigned around him.

He heard himself speak as if from outside his own body, a voice that was calm, and decisive, and cool despite the hint of sadness that touched it. Though he did not shout, the power of his voice silenced the bridge, “Initiate the Shatter protocol.”

Everyone was silent.

“Everyone evacuate to the life pods and sealed decks immediately.” His seatbelt clicked into position, and he took a deep breath.

“But commander.”

“I said evacuate, now.” he did not raise his voice but the tone made it clear he would take no argument.

The crew stood from their seats.

Commander vir reached out and under his seat pressing a button that he had never wanted to press. Purple light blinked on around them.

Initiating shatter protocol.

The bridge crew filed out of the room as commander Vir stared stoically forward.

Please report to a restraint harness on an air locked deck or to the lifepods.

Commander Vir closed his eyes thinking “Conn, are you there?”

A soft voice, “Yes commander, I am here.”

“Can you get my dog-”

“Already done commander, she is safe with me.” 

“Conn.”

“Yes?”

“You know I never mean the things I say to you, right?”

“Yes, commander, I know.” 

The Bridge was almost completely empty now.

Shatter protocol to initiate in three minutes.

A hand on his shoulder.

He looked up, and saw sunny standing over him, her golden eyes wide with horror, “Adam, what are you doing!”

“Someone has to stay behind, Sunny. I have to manually fire them if I want everyone to make it out.”

“Bullshit.”

“Sunny, if you don’t leave right now I swear to god I will hate you for the rest of my life.” He locked eyes with her seeing the confusion and hurt there, “I will hate you because you will have murdered someone I loved.” She stared at him still not comprehending what he had said, but that was ok.

He stood allowing the seatbelt to disengage.

He stood Resting his hands on her upper arms pushing her slowly back towards the door.

When she wouldn’t move fast enough, he hugged her close pushing harder until the door was just behind them.

He turned his head to look up at her.

He leaned up moving onto the tips of his toes to reach sliding his hands onto the cool chest plate of her carapace.

She looked down at him confused, maybe scared.

He leaned up a little further bracing his toes against the steel, and shoved hard. 

Sunny stumbled back pitching to the floor as he raced forward and slammed his fist into the locking button.

The door slammed shut as Sunny leaped to her feet.

Sealing ship decks.

All around the ship powerful airlocked metal plates slid down from all the doors, locking each individual deck into an air right compartment.

He heard the metal snick into place behind the door in front of him.

A captain goes down with his ship

He turned and took his seat back in the captain’s chair back straight chin held high.

He reached down and pressed the button again.

Jettisoning Deck F

Once upon a time, some engineer somewhere had designed a plan for an event like this. Lifeboats and escape pods were ok for small numbers of people, but for large amounts at a short notice, it just wasn't viable. So they had designed it where the decks of the ships themselves were lifeboats.

In an event of an emergency the decs would be sealed off into airtight compartments and then, one by one, jettisoned backwards from the ship using all systems for external power.

OUt in space, the Harbinger broke apart starting from the back forward. Thousands of escape pods and chunks of the ship rocketed backwards all at once fracturing like a pane of glass.

Commander Vir felt the power and lurched slightly forward in his seat. The lights around him dimmed as the command deck was cut from power. As the thrusters vanished, there was nothing to keep him stable and he rocketed forward towards the gaping maw of the black abyss. 

HE rested his head back in his seat watching the hole grow wider before him. 

He thought of his mother, hoping she wouldn’t cry too much, of his father who had never lost a son. He thought of his brothers. He thought of Dr. Krill. He thought about his crew, and he thought about Sunny.

Nothing but blackness in his vision.

In the darkness of the bridge, he whispered one final phrase to ALL of them before the command deck spiraled into blackness and vanished.

I love you

[bowieandqueen11]

Underwater / Ben Hanscom Imagine

Request: May I request an Adult Ben Hanscom imagine where the reader, who is married to Ben, is down in the sewer with the Losers and gets pulled under water by Penniwise? Our man Ben needs some reassurance from his wife that she's okay. Fluffyness! 🥰 

@may85 eek thank you darling!! <3

Warning, some swearing!

You wished, with all your heart, that you never had to smell the stench of this place again.

When you all finally arrived into the depths of the sewer, Mike and Bill leading the way as everyone else trailed so slowly, so unsure, behind them, that’s when you finally allowed your heart to sink.

This was real. This was actually happening. You’re no longer thirteen, you no longer have an excuse, a way out, a way to forget this. You either die here, or you die out there. 

The water the gang jumps down into is a turbid brown, the colour of sewage, or as Eddie fondly calls out again,

‘It’s still the same old fucking grey water.’ 

Branches have been blow in by the storm, and you gag a little, pressing your face into your husband’s thick back as he raises his eyebrows, wrapping one arm around your own as the two of you watch a small, glittery pink shoe swirl pass, like a relic from a time long forgotten as it floats by without a ripple.

‘Was that- was that Betty Rip-’

‘Don’t think about it hun’, Ben whispers, his thumb trying to tenderly stroke against the goosebumps that flash painfully against your arm, but his grip is tighter than he realises and he ends up digging in a small welt. The water eddies around them, but not that relaxed way water usually does: harshly, more like mini vortexes. You can hear Richie swear softly in front of you as Eddie bumps into him, loud ‘ah-ah, nope nope nope’s escaping his mouth as a half chewed teddy bear floats by his chest.

‘Come on guys, we need to get out of the water, it’s n-not f-far now.’

‘Is that supposed to reassure us?’, Richie whispers with a sigh, slapping his wet leg up onto the jagged stone mound as Eddie reaches down to help him up, his flashlight bouncing around on his head and illuminating different patches of the water in a shimmering light that reminds you of-

the deadlights.

Cold water is the most efficient thief of heat you know. It takes what it does not need. The water surges around your skin, rising up my leg on one side, making tiny eddies on the other the further you follow your friends. The weight of the water is almost enough to topple you, the temperature a dare, as if you were racing hypothermia with each wade through its murky depths. In front of you, your husband shivered against your arm, the water so cold it stung into his hips and flattened his shirt against him painfully. Every touch stole another part of his heat, leaching away a few more fractions of a degree. It crept up the fabric of his pants, clamping the icy fibres to his already frigid skin. But he kept going, because he knew in doing this, he could save you. And if killing a clown meant your nightmares would end, that you would be safe again, he would take on the universe one monster at a time.

Sensing your hesitation as the two of you finally start approaching the giant wall of rock where Eddie and Richie stand, brushing each other off with grimaced faces, Ben slowly turns around and pulls you slowly to him, wrapping his arms around you. His embrace was warm, and his big, strong arms seemed very protective when wrapped around your shaking body. The world around seemed to melt away as you squeezed him back, not wanting the moment to end. The simple touch sent a wave of butterflies coursing through your veins, their fluttering wings easing the dread that had settled inside you.

‘I can’t do this Ben, not again, not after last time. What I saw-I saw-’

‘You are so brave, sweetheart, but this time, I’m not leaving you alone for a second. Plus,’ he says, elbowing you slightly with the biggest smile he can muster at the moment, ‘if you see the deadlights, I’ll just have to kiss you again to pull you out and back to me.’

‘Ben Hanscom, I swear!’, you mutter with a hoarse laugh, pulling your arms around his neck and burying your head into the curve of his shoulder. You just needed a moment, just one more moment with your husband in your arms, his hands tight against your hips, safe. 

Everything was okay.

Through the darkness behind your head came the glow of two yellow eyes, like sallow lamplight eight feet off the ground, if only Ben’s had been open to see them, and if only Richie and Eddie hadn’t been having a mock fight over who’s married to who’s mother.. They moved with a slight sway, as if the unseen body prowled like a big cat. The monster advanced on them, its physique hardly discernible in the shadowy twilight of the sewer. With each slow movement that belied the speed it was capable of, slime dripped, oozing great globs of phlegm and depositing them with light splashes into the water; it’s skin was gnarled, but crumpled and folded as if in the midst of changing form. Over it's belly lay crusty flaps of concave skin. The beast reeked of raw sewage and rotten fish. A smell that hit your nose with a rancid pang only a few seconds before it had reached the edge of your shoulder, and Ben had drawn himself away from his warm daydreams of you to open his eyes.

In a split second, it had torn you from Ben’s grasp and dragged you down into the depths with it.

Darkness enveloped you. The water closed in around, filling you with a deep dread as you kicked out against it’s knobbly arms and screamed against the claws that dug into your cheek and left bubbling scratches. Red and black splotches danced in front of you as you gave the clown one final desperate kick in the shin, wiggling out of its grasp as a desperate hot wave enveloped you, warming even your frosted toes. Your heart was beating rapidly in panic, the urgency for air was apparent than ever. There weren't red blotches in your field of vision anymore. It was all black. You opened her mouth, gasping for air, fighting until you feel like your head is about to explode. You have to take a breath. So you do. For some reason it doesn’t hurt like you thought it would. You’re not scared anymore, it’s almost peaceful actually. 

You begin to fall, dropping further and further into the darkness until it threatens to swallow you whole.

Ben knows he’s scared when those old fears run through my head, when he hears the taunting laughter of years past, when he was the ‘fat kid’ and punchline of teenage jokes. He knows he’s scared when these bad memories cut loose their chains and invade his confidence, eroding the person he had built since those dark days. 

But this time was so much worse.

The adrenaline flew over his veins like licks of fire, but he couldn’t move a single muscle, not even to scream. The absolute horror completely paralysed him, and the more he thought about losing you, the more he thought each straggling breathe he pulled in as he dipped his head up above the water would be his last. If you died, he was going to die too. He didn’t remember being that scared in his life.

The rest of the group jump in after you with desperate cries, not one of them caring in the smallest bit for their safety as their stomachs and heads hit against the cold with tumultuous crashes and wake Ben from his nightmare, his own head being pulled down by his brain to desperately search for you in the darkness. Even Eddie dipped his legs in, not really swimming to search for you  so much as drowning slowly. Every few strokes he was swallowing the shitty water and within metres he was fully submerged, the light dying out with him.

It took you a few moments to register that there were other shapes, big square blocks floating around in the water with you. Something in the back of your mind seemed to recognise the sandy curls that brushed against your forehead, the callused and raw hands that grabbed at your biceps, every pinprick touch registering a shock to your skin as you allowed yourself to be taken away. You thought, as you see the face of your husband warp in front of you, that angels had finally come to take you away.

As the two of you break out of the water, Ben taking in a massive, gasping breathe, his shouts echo around the cavernous walls as the other’s begin to rise up one by one with shaking cries.

‘She’s here! She’s here, I’ve got her! I’ve got you.’

In that simple moment he wrapped his arms around you and you let your head rest upon his chest. All your thoughts stopped as if your heart took over from your head, your breathe beginning to catch itself as water spluttered up from your lungs and escaped in gasping coughs out of your lips. Next he would squeeze as if he needed to check you were really there with him, really there and really real.

You looked sharply up as he took your hands into his. They felt like sandpaper or perhaps stone, rough and unfinished. It suited him, you thought, looking into his deep eyes, his hands warm in yours as he brought them up to his lips, your nerves tingling at the harsh comfort of contact, your body melting into his hard chest, his heartbeat comforting, if a little rushed for your liking.

‘It’s okay, Ben, I’m okay.’

You pull your head back to look at him, your heart sinking as you reach up with a shaking finger to wipe away the tears that littered down his cheek, his lips twitching as your touch brings more relief than his heart can hold. He is eating you with his eyes, running his hand through your hair, as if he can't quite believe you’re not part of an almost forgotten dream. When he leans down to kiss you, it's sweet, gentle, and it tastes of his salty tears as he laughs against your warm mouth.

‘Hey, what did I say about not leaving you alone ever again? Please, don’t go, don’t go ever again, I couldn’t take it.’

[omnipedia]

Ben 10 Analysis Part 5:

Rath:

Species: Appoplexian

Homeworld: Appoplexia

Abilities: Super strength, retractable claws on wrists, can create shockwaves, skilled in wrestling maneuvers, and has extreme durability.

Weaknesses: Hydrophobia, certain high frequency sounds. He also has extremely high aggression and a lack of intelligence. For example, he has repeatedly tried to fight with gravity.

Feats: Survived moving from one spaceship to another with no suit, leapt down an aliens throat and climbed back up, took a point-blank laser blast with no apparent effect, survived a free fall from several hundred feet in the air with only a bit of dizziness as a result, held onto a spaceship in flight while tearing apart its hull with his claws, ripped apart a tank with ease, and can allegedly knit the intestines of a giant alien into a sweater.

Lodestar:

Species: Biosovortian

*Homeworld: Polaris

Abilities: Can create magnetic fields, attract metal objects, create force fields, levitate, fly, and can completely regenerate.

Weaknesses: Cannot affect non-magnetic objects, and his head is easily separated from his body.

Feats: Stole the weapons of an entire army, interrogated the Forever Knights using torture, can lift a car, and can stop the BFS of Generator Rex with his magnetism.

Nanomech:

Species: Nanochip/Human Hybrid

Homeworld: Earth

Abilities: Flight, can shrink to any size, rapid adaptability, and can shoot bioelectrical energy blasts.

Weaknesses: Cannot grow past one inch in size, and can be harmed easily due to his small size

Feats: Destroyed the Nanochip queen, shrunk small enough to go inside a brain, took out a robot made specifically to counter all of Ben's aliens, and defeated a To’kustar.

Water Hazard:

Species: Orishan

Homeworld: Kiusana

Abilities: Hydrokinesis, armored exoskeleton, enhanced strength, powerful water cannons, and water and moisture absorption.

Weaknesses: Vulnerable to energy attacks and intense heat.

Feats: Water cannons can punch through steel, can momentarily fly using water propulsion, can shrug off being thrown through two concrete walls, and can throw a lion-sized alien.

AmpFibian:

Species: Amperi

Homeworld: Tesslos

Abilities: Can produce and control electricity, absorb electricity, can travel through electrical currents, can release a small supply of water to help shock foes, intangibility, can shock things by flying through them while intangible, and flight.

Weaknesses: Will be shocked by his own electricity if he uses it while only partially underwater.

Feats: Will eventually be able to read both conscious and unconscious minds, can survive the pressure of the ocean depths, and took out multiple Plumber guards at once.

Terraspin:

Species: Geochelone Aerio

Homeworld: Aldabra

Abilities: Flight, can create powerful blasts of wind by rotating his fins, can suck in air as well, immune to spells, magic, and poisonous gases, superhuman strength, and enhanced durability.

Weaknesses: Has a huge blind spot behind him, cumbersome and slow, if his holes are blocked, his wind powers decrease, and he can be stuck on his back.

Feats: Lifted and threw a car, can match speed and hold onto robots flying with rocket boosters, survived being stomped on by a giant robot, can create a tornado, and managed to beat Aggregor in a one on one fight.

Armodrillo:

Species: Talpaedan

Homeworld: Terraexcava

Abilities: Incredibly fast digging, can create earthquakes, enhanced strength and durability, can enhance punches with arm pistons, can turn his hands into drills, and can create shock waves.

Weaknesses: Armor is easily penetrated, and electricity can paralyze him easily.

Feats: Narrowly survived a bomb that could destroy five city blocks, can easily smack around giant robots, capable of lifting a creature the size of a house, can launch a creature the size of a tank multiple feet away, and drills can shred a tree into nothing in seconds.

NRG:

Species: Prypiatosian-B

Homeworld: Prypiatos

Abilities: Essentially a living nuclear reactor, immune to radiation, can generate heat from his hands, energy blasts, lasers, intense heat generation, nuclear energy generation, energy absorption, flight, intangibility, can create light, and extremely durable suit that can only be opened from the inside.

Weaknesses: Slower and weaker insider his protective suit, which he must keep on to keep those around him from being irradiated, and has limited vision.

Feats: Ate the contents of a nuclear reactor, can throw a Vaxasaurian hard enough to bend girders, can melt rock and steel, and can channel heat underground to create geysers of lava.

Fasttrack:

Species: Citrakayah

Homeworld: Chalybeas

Abilities: Super speed, enhanced agility, enhanced strength, quick reflexes, and sharp elbow spikes.

Weaknesses: Has a difficult time stopping and turning.

Feats: Can survive tumbling into the ground while running at high speeds, outran a fusion grenade explosion while carrying two people, and momentarily outran a missile.

(* means that the name is not official, and has been created by either me or someone else)

[sprnklersplashes]

heart of stone (2/?)

AO3

It’s three days before Janis’ rest results are available. That night, her mom pops her head around her bedroom door and tells her they need to be at the hospital early the next morning. She had spent the intervening time lounging around her house, rotating through different sweaters and reading the same book over and over, all the while filling in Damian and Cady as much as she could, trying to reassure them and herself that it was nothing and in a few days she’d probably be fine. She’d be back bugging them in no time, probably by the first day of school, in fact.

And that better be true, she thinks, because she has never been so bored in her life. In those few days between appointments her biggest achievement was successfully showing her dad how to master Netflix and introducing him to Killing Eve. She had tried to draw, but no idea stayed still in her mind long enough for her to recapture it on paper. The pencil bounced between her hands as she looked through outlines of unfinished sketches, trying to make one jump out at her. She puts them all in her drawer with a resigned sigh, one of those impossibly rare moments where she willingly admits defeat and submits to her fate. Her body feels too weary to move and her brain completely burnt out, but her soul keeps pushing her to create, to be active and busy. Her hands weren’t meant for scrolling through her phone as she’s half asleep, they’re artists hands, built for innovation. The restlessness crept through her nerves and up to her brain, shaking it so much that when her mom hung up the phone and told her she had an appointment the next day, she threw her head back and thanked God.

But her initial relief is gone now as she and her parents follow the perky secretary’s directions down to the doctor’s room, passing sunshine yellow walls and hurrying over pristine white floors. She keeps her hands in her pockets, her heart clenching each time she catches a glimpse of a patient. Some of them smile, some of them don’t, some look normal and others… not so much, gaunt faces and loose headscarves. Wrong as it is, her anxiety only spikes when she sees them, not to mention her bedside manner isn’t the greatest. Perhaps it’s lucky her parents don’t set high goals for her because she’d never make a doctor.

Her dad keeps looking back at her, asking if she’s okay, and she tells him she is, even though her chest is pained and tight, either from worry or her own body’s weakness. Or worse, both. Her little personal storm cloud makes itself known again, desperate for her attention after she had put so much effort into ignoring it. It clings to her brain and strains against her skull, stretching over and whispering in her ear, telling her she should get used to this place. She might be seeing more of it than she wants to.

She closes her eyes tightly and stops walking for a second, wishing she could go back to a few days ago, lounging in bed with Cady when everything was normal and okay. But she can’t, so she jogs to catch up with her parents and keeps her eyes on her boots.

“Mr and Mrs Sarkisian.” The doctor they meet is around her dad’s age, brown hair beginning to grey with thick rimmed black glasses and wearing a funky green and blue tie over a white shirt. If he ditched the white coat and clipboard, he’d look like a dad. On his desk, amongst the paperwork and nameplate, is a Rubix cube, a framed photo of two kids and a stuffed frog chilling against the computer, wearing an oversized pair of sunglasses. Doctor Dad looks at Janis, his mouth opening and closing silently for a split second, a fearful glint in his eyes. Exactly what she needs. “And Janis, I assume.” She lets him shake her hand, not letting herself show how clammy it feels. His nerves sparks on the skin in a way only someone who has been through it could pick up on.

She’s been reading him since she first saw him and none of it puts her at ease. His smile looks like someone is pulling it across his face with wires and his eyes flash behind his glasses when he looks at her. His breathing hitches, his fingers fidget and when he sits down, she sees him pull himself back together, starting with the shoulders and up to the chin, straightening everything out, looking presentable. Approachable. Softening the blow he’s about to make. Maybe her parents take notice, or not. They’re specific things, only noticeable to those who are looking for them.

They do say ignorance is bliss.

“These… these types of conversations are never easy.” Oh, what a brilliant opening line. It makes her mom’s hand clasp her dad’s with a grip that’s white-knuckled and desperate. As for Janis herself, she squirms in her chair, biting down hard on her thumbnail. She feels like there’s a million little centipedes all over her body, scurrying around with their tiny feet, wriggling into her elbows, writhing beneath her knees, twisting around on her stomach. She could burst at any moment and they’d invade his office, bury themselves in his carpeting and make homes in the vents.

“Just give it to me straight, doc,” she blurts out. Her parents turn to her, more amused than surprised, and she offers a shrug, the beginnings of a smirk on her face. “Which might be hard in my case.” Her parents chuckle as she looks over at the doctor, herself getting a kick out of his own dumbfounded expression. “Because I’m a lesbian.”

“Oh, right,” he says, managing something that sounds like a laugh. He clears his throat and opens the file in his hand, blocking it from her view in a move that she isn’t sure is accidental. Pressure builds in her chest, her lungs feeling smaller and smaller inside her. The clock must be wrong, because it says only seconds have passed, but they’ve been there for far longer. Minutes. Hours, it must be. She grips the side of the plastic chair, drumming her nails along the underside and pressing her palm into the metal legs. Her mom rubs her hand down her back, asking quietly if she needs anything. She shakes her head, knowing ‘for this to be over’ probably isn’t a good answer.

“Janis… I’m afraid you have leukaemia.”

She’s falling.

Someone took her chair out from underneath her and she’s falling. She phases through the floor and keeps falling, her surroundings a silent blur. She tries to breathe but nothing can come in or out, her hand outstretched but no one holding it. She’s trapped in a bubble, one with no air or no sound, keeping everyone else away from her. She’s alone as she falls, nothing but the white expanse for company, her heart still, her mind empty. All she knows is she’s hurtling towards… something, at full speed and getting faster with each second.

“Janis!”

She blinks, the bottom of the chair cutting a deep, red line into her palms. But it’s steady beneath her, even if nothing else is. All at once, her body and mind come back to her, her heart beats faintly in her chest, weak from shock, and her breaths are quick and rapid. Her brain is a jumbled and confused mess, so much so that she preferred it when she couldn’t think of anything. Now her mind is opening ideas in a flash and tossing them out just as quickly; dashing around her head so thoughtlessly and rapidly that she can’t get a grip on anything. So instead she’s just sitting there, a ringing in her head and cold weakness in her chest, waiting for someone to fix this.

“Janis.” Her dad’s hand is on hers, his fingers curling around with a touch that’s so soft and gentle it almost doesn’t belong in here. Not with that word lingering between them. “Are you okay kid?”

How the hell is she meant to be okay?

“Leukaemia.” She drags her eyes up, not to meet the doctor, but to look past him, to look at the ugly shade of yellow his wall is painted and the framed certificate, declaring him as having graduated from somewhere with a degree in something. She bites her lip so hard she feels the beginnings of a little lump forming there. Like the ones on her neck. Like the ones they always say are a sign of…

The word sticks in her throat and she has to tear it out of her.

“Like… cancer? Like the cancer kind of leukaemia?”

“I’m afraid so,” the doctor says, his voice soft. She doesn’t know if she’s ever heard a voice that soft before, maybe when she was a kid, a really tiny kid and her goldfish died and her mom had to explain to her what death was.

Why did her mind have to go there?

It’s only now she notices one of the posters on the wall. Bright green lettering and a glossy photo of a little girl, fourteen, maybe thirteen, sitting up in a bed, a tube in her nose and a hat on her bald head, grinning brightly up a nurse with a sweet face. That’s what cancer is. It’s losing your hair and being in hospital and having tubes sticking in and out of your body. It’s other stuff too, stuff she hasn’t thought about and doesn’t know because it’s not for her. Cancer isn’t for her, it’s for old grandmas in knitted cardigans and tragic little kids who get to meet spiderman. Occasionally, it’s for teenagers and young people like her, but not her specifically. Never her. Cancer is something that exists far away, lurking around corners, on the tongues of adults who them about the dangers of cellphones or their health teacher telling them to eat healthily. It exists all right, but it doesn’t happen to her.

“Janis,” her mom says gently, running her fingers through her hair. Her voice is thin and shaking as though she’s about to cry. Why would she be crying? She’ll fix this. There’s no way this is real and now her mom is crying over nothing.

“I’m fine,” she replies, squeezing her mom’s hand back. Life comes back to her body and she looks up at the doctor, finally feeling heat inside her, attacking the cold emptiness and sending it back where it belongs. It flares up in her chest, a spark that she’d sorely missed these past few days. She grips her mom’s hand tighter, her own hand shaking and her fingers tight and tense. “I’m fine because I don’t have cancer.”

“Janis I know this is difficult to hear-”

“It’s not. It’s not because I am fine. Because I don’t have cancer, you did the test wrong.”

“Our team ran several tests. We ruled out other possibilities.”

“Clearly you didn’t if you’re telling me that I have cancer, which I don’t, so do another one.” Her grip on her mom isn’t just for her sake, but it’s also keeping Janis from getting up and flipping that desk over and telling Doctor Dad to get fucked. Who does he even think he is anyway? That degree can’t be much good if he’s telling her this and screwed up a test like that.

“Janis,” he sighs, gesturing with his hands like that’s going to fix anything. “I understand that this is a lot to take in right now-”

“It’s not,” she snaps, the smile on her face strained and sharp. “It’s not because you’re fuck-you’re wrong. I don’t-I can’t have-”

“Janis!”

Her mom’s voice is what pulls her back down. When she looks over at her, she sees brown eyes identical to hers, but they’re filled with tears and rimmed red and show a tiny spark of anger amongst the sadness. Her mom’s mouth is half-open, a plea waiting on her lips, begging her daughter to see sense. Her hand tightens around Janis’, her grip becoming less comforting and careful and more irritated and exhausted.

“Sweetheart… please.”

God she’s a horrible person. Her parents just heard probably one of the worst things a parent could hear, and she just threw a tantrum over it.

She looks at the doctor with uncharacteristic and unfamiliar shyness, trying to pick herself back up, present herself as anything close to reasonable after the meltdown she just had. Something about him makes her feel like he understands. Maybe she’s not the first to react like that. Or maybe it’s wishful thinking.

“So what happens now?” she asks in a flat voice.

“What happens now is you start treatment as soon as possible,” Doctor Dad explains. He leans forwards on his desk, his hands clasped together and when Janis notices the distressed expression on his face, the pain of guilt in her stomach only gets worse. “My colleagues have already discussed this and we think it would be best for you to begin within the next two weeks. The earliest start would be next Monday.”

“Next Monday?” she echoes, her voice cracking. “But… but I start school in three days I start before that, I can’t…” She knows it’s a lost cause and there’s no point to it, but it’s the last thing she has. Her school is the last part of her life that’s real in all this, so forgive her for clinging to it. She looks from her parents to the doctor, three different, grave expressions and only one is able to give her an answer.

“I’m afraid going to school will be out of the question,” the doctor tells her. Her mom’s fingers lace between hers, squeezing her hand in what’s meant to be comforting, but Janis can’t feel it. She’s too busy trying to push back another protest. “I’m sorry, Janis. There is the option of online school, but your treatment is likely to make you too tired to focus. It might be easier on your mental health if you saved school until next year.”

Saved school until next year. When everyone she knows is already gone and this year’s juniors will be seniors. She’ll have to wait a year for all the fun stuff that seniors get to do, cutting in the lunch line, going to prom, graduation parties, using the senior’s lounge. She’ll be sitting in a class of people she’s a year older than her, all in pre-formed friendship groups and likely knowing her as Cancer Girl. Cady, Damian, Karen, everyone else will be graduating this year and will move on to new adventures. And she’ll be left behind.

The idea makes her more sick than the cancer has.

“Jan?” her dad asks softly. She finds three pairs of expectant eyes on her and all she can offer is a small nod.

“Okay,” she whispers. She’s not sure what she’s saying okay to.

“What about the treatment itself?” her mom asks. “How is that going to work?”

“We might have to do a few more tests to find that out,” he explains. “But it would likely be chemotherapy. What we’ve discussed so far is two weeks in hospital and then a week at home to recover for around three months. Thankfully, the cancer hasn’t progressed far enough to warrant more, and we’ll want to keep it at that. The goal is to get Janis to remission.” She nods, her head starting to throb a little. She presses her fingers to her temples before she can stop herself, and that’s a red flag to both her parents. She drops it, muttering a lie about being fine.

“Of course there will be a lot of support for Janis through this,” he goes on. “There is an excellent support group and appointments can be made with a counsellor on a one-to-one basis.”

Somehow that doesn’t help, she thinks. It’s not meant to, she guesses.

It’s cold when they step outside, or that might just be her. The wind cuts through her jacket and the sweater she pulled on and attacks her skin, leaving her fighting off shivers. She pushes her dad’s arm off her when he tries to help her to the car. That only makes her feel worse, mentally and physically.

Being in a car with your parents after a cancer diagnosis is a weird experience. The tension between the three of them strangles her. An unspoken conversation passes between her parents in the front and frankly, it pisses her off. If they’re going to be concerned about her, they could at least do her the courtesy of involving her. But maybe it’s better that way because despite being an arm’s length from them, she feels as though she’s miles away. Like when they started driving, she stayed put. She sinks back into the seat and stares straight ahead, the pain in her head coming back louder and stronger, pushing against her skull and screaming behind her eyelids.

“Janis… are you okay?” her mom asks.

“Fine,” she sighs.

“Do you need anything? We can go to the gas station-”

“I said I’m fine,” she replies, firmer than before. “I just want to lay down.”

She’s not kidding. She wants to press her face into her pillow until everything blacks out and all that exists is the colours that explode behind her eyelids. Then they can fade to, and she won’t have to deal with anything anymore.

They drive on in a heavy silence, and the longer they go, the angrier she finds herself growing. She doesn’t know where it’s directed, at herself or her parents or the doctor or the universe, but it’s there, rising in tandem with her the pain in her head and making her restless. She grabs her upper arm and squeezes hard, pressing her nails in until it starts to hurt, just to get it out somewhere.

“Hey… why don’t we go to Dairy Queen?” her dad suggests, as though they’re on their way back from mini golfing. It’s a sweet offer and Janis almost smiles at it. But it’s why it’s sweet that she doesn’t want it.

“I don’t want to,” she replies. “I just want to go home.” Besides, there is a real risk of her upchucking a milkshake on the seat.

Her parents exchange another worried look, their hands clasping over the gearshift, and Janis has to bite back a scream.

When they do finally get home, Janis doesn’t wait for them to get out of the car. Instead she storms ahead, regardless of how it hurts her head more, because she’s so damn relieved to be out of that care and in open space. She opens the door with her own key, remembering to leave it open for them. She runs into the hallway and then stops almost immediately, her chest tight and her breaths coming in short, quick gulps. Something rushes against her and grabs at her legs, and she takes a minute to work out that it’s Maxie, no doubt pouting at her and wondering what she was doing and where she was and why she didn’t take him. He’s probably whimpering or barking, and her dad is probably trying to talk to her, but she can’t hear anything but the blood rushing in her ears.

“Oh my God,” she says out loud. Everything she’s held back in the car bubbles over and she can’t hold it back any more.

She just about makes it to her room in time to throw herself on the bed and start screaming. She doesn’t even sound like a human. It’s deep and it’s guttural, tearing at her throat and painted with rage and pain and fear. Poor Maxie is probably hiding in his bed, scared of the monster upstairs. Her eyes, her face burns and her bedroom melts away, leaving just a mesh of dark colours bleeding together. Tears and snot run down her face and over her hands and on the pillows, making the mark of a miserable, self-pitying girl going insane.

Her head doesn’t just hurt any more, it’s screeching and kicking at her and she can’t do anything about it. She can’t do anything about anything. That’s the problem. Her chest aches and her neck hurts and her mouth is dry and her eyes burn. But all that’s nothing to what’s going on in her heart and head, where dangerous, toxic cocktails bubble. All she wants to do is not feel, but she feels everything and it’s all just pain.

She runs out of tears at one point and they dry on her face as she looks up at the ceiling, the word “cancer” written in invisible ink above her. She thinks “I might die” and then rolls her eyes at herself for being bleak. She wants to tell her all the good stuff about new treatments and technology and whatever but it’s all surface level nonsense. Fear wins over optimism and it cuts right into her, deep into her soul.

She doesn’t know what she’s most worried about and she’s an idiot for it. Not knowing if she’s more scared of the fatal disease wreaking destruction and chaos inside her body or of not getting to go to Cady’s Mathletes competitions or see Damian in the musical. It should be plainly obvious what’s the worse one, but it isn’t. Is this her now? Vapid and shallow, more obsessed with her petty teenage fun than her health? Was she always like this?

Her parents find her laying across her bed, unblinking, the slow rise and fall of her chest the only thing that indicate her being alive.

“How long ago did you guys wait?” she asks flatly.

“Two hours,” her dad explains, shifting on his feet. “We thought you’d need some space.” She nods numbly at that. “Janis… I know this is a lot to process for you.”

“Understatement of the century,” she mumbles. At least she’s still got humour. The bed sags and she sees her mom sitting next to her, her hand reaching out to stroke her hair. Janis can’t remember the last time her mom did that to her, not like this, with dainty fingers that could send her to sleep.

“We’re going to be here the whole time,” her mom promises. “You’re not doing this alone.”

She is though. That’s the problem. They’re not going to be the ones in the hospital beds and taking medicine and missing her senior year. She is. They’ll be beside her all they like, and she hopes to hell they are, but they aren’t going through it with her.

“I know,” is what she says instead. “I know.” She pulls herself to a sitting position, grabbing her mom’s shoulder as her room starts tilting. It takes a few seconds of deep, shaky breaths and her eyes shut tight before she feels normal again. “I’m okay.” She looks up at the two of them, overwhelmed by a feeling of helplessness that makes her feel tiny despite her impressive height. “So what happens now?”

“We’ll take care of the official stuff,” her dad days softly, his arms wrapped around himself Holding himself together. “Letting the school know and all that. But… it might be better if you tell your friends.” She shakes her head on instinct. She can barely get that word out of her mouth on her own. In front of Damian or Cady, she knows she’d crumble.

“Sweetie,” her mom says. Her hand hasn’t stopped stroking her. “I know it’s hard. But they love you and they’re going to want to hear it from you. Not from us and not from the school either.” Janis presses her face into her knees, blinking away another wave of tears. They’re right. Of course they’re right. But that doesn’t mean that the idea of telling them makes her want to vomit.

Right now, only she, her mom, her dad and some doctors know. And she can pretend the doctors don’t exist and remove them from the equation. And when the only people who know are living in this house, it’s easier for her to pretend that it doesn’t really exist. She can push it away and ignore her parents and keep it inside these walls. Once she tells her friends…

It’s real. There’s no going back after that. Granted there’s no going back either way, but there’s no hiding either.

“Janis,” her mom agrees, sharking a look with her dad. “If it’s really too much for you… we can tell your friends for you.

“No,” she says with a shake of her head. “No, you’re right. They need to hear it from me.”

“Oh, baby,” her mom breathes, hugging her tightly around her shoulders. She’s not crying, but her breathing is ragged and her grip scared. “I’m so sorry. I wish this wasn’t happening to you.” Her dad sits on the other side of her and wraps his arm around her, letting her head on her head on his shoulder. The hug is clumsy and a little forced, no-one knowing when to let go and Janis quickly becomes uncomfortable in their embrace. The longer it goes on, the less like herself she feels.

She spends the rest of the day and most of the following morning looking at her phone, even when she’s eating or watching TV with her dad or playing with Maxie. Every gesture is half-hearted, the building sense of dread distracting her form everything else. She scrolls through the messages from yesterday, Cady asking how her appointment went and Damian asking if she was free and Gretchen asking her opinion on a shirt. All living in blissful ignorance.

It’s no contest as to who to tell first. She sits on her bed, Damian’s face looking up at her from the phone screen, one button all that separates the two of them. Just press a button. How hard can that be? Very hard, it turns out, when your arm feels like lead and you don’t even know what to say to him, your words written and crossed out and written again on the notebook beside you. The worst part is that she isn’t even sure what she’s scared of. There’s a lot to choose from and when it’s telling someone you love as much as she loves him, that only makes it worse. Like she’s on top of a skyscraper, about to be pushed off and into darkness.  

She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and calls him.

“Hey,” he chirps on the other side, picking up after just one ring. She leans back on her bed, biting her nail, her heart ceasing beating altogether. In the back of her mind, she wonders if he’d been waiting for her. “What’s up?”

“Are you-can you come over?” she asks. “Are you free right now?”

“Uh yeah,” he replies. “Everything okay?” No it’s not, the okay train left the station yesterday and I missed it and I’m about to pull you off it too. “Janis… are you okay?”

“Just… how soon can you come over?” she says, moving from biting her nail to her knuckles. “It’s just… it’s kind of important and I don’t know if I can-”

“Woah, woah, woah, okay,” he replies. “Hey, my mom’s giving me a ride. I’ll be ten minutes, tops. Okay?”

“Okay,” she nods. “Thanks.” She’s not even sure if he heard that last word.

He’s seven minutes actually. Seven minutes between her hanging up the phone and the front door opening, her mom letting him in and telling him she’s up in her room. Every step closer only makes her stomach hurt worse and she prays she’s not headed for a panic attack.

“Hey.” His voice is gentle as he opens the door, stepping into her room cautiously, like she’s in the middle of a minefield. He must have picked up on the tension in her house; rather than draping himself across her bed or sitting on her desk, he lowers himself gently beside her, offering her a comforting smile. The same kind he gave her years ago when she was crying in a bathroom stall. God, she loves him. “Everything okay? You sounded nervous on the phone.”

“Because I was,” she confesses. Her hand wraps around Damian’s, him squeezing tightly, but she doesn’t feel the usual strength she gets from him. There’s just a cold, heavy weight in her stomach. “Oh God.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says softly, rubbing his hand up and down her arm, confusion and compassion in his eyes. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she tells him. Her chest feels like someone is tying a rope around her lungs. The words battle from her mind to her mouth, weary and unwilling. “It’s about my… that doctor’s appointment I had. We found out-”

This is it. The point of no return. No pretending or faking or daydreaming after this.

“Damian… I have cancer.”

Damian shakes his head a little, disbelief written all over his face. He keeps his eyes on her, waiting for her to laugh and tell him she’s kidding, almost willing it so. She wishes. Soon the doubt and hope melt away, his eyes turning sad and his mouth falling open, a small, strangled noise coming out as he realises she’s not kidding. As for her guilt tears her chest open and her face crumples. She begins to untangle herself from him, but he refuses, his arm in a firm grip around her shoulders. Maybe he wants to hold her or maybe he just can’t move, paralysed by what she dropped on him. The longer he goes without talking, the more it hurts her.

“What?” he asks eventually. “You… what?”

“Leukaemia,” she tells him as if that makes it better. He blinks, looking around the room like he’s searching for another answer.

“You have cancer?” he asks. She nods, exhausted from the two sentences she spoke, and he pulls her closer, her head falling onto his shoulder. Tears that aren’t hers fall onto her body and her own wet his shirt. His arms are weak around her as he tries to make sense of it. “How?”

“I don’t know how. It just happened,” she mumbles. “Karma, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Okay then let me talk to Miss Karma because this is… fu-this isn’t…”

“Go on. Say it,” she urges, a grin beginning to tug on her lips. “Just for me.” Maybe this will be the day Damian Hubbard finally says fuck.

“It’s fiddlesticks is what it is.” She laughs and it feels unfamiliar. He pets her hair in a steady rhythm, strength coming back into his body. “So what do you do now? Do you know? What even happens?”

“Okay.” She pulls away from him, seeing for the first time how red his eyes are. “I start… I start getting treatment next Monday.”

“Next Monday?” he interrupts. “But you can’t, we have school. We start school in two days!”

“Yeah I don’t think the cancer gives a shit,” she sighs heavily. “I’m just going to do senior year next year.”

“No,” he whispers, his face nothing short of heartbroken. Part of her is actually kind of weirdly flattered that someone cares so much. Most of her just feels worse every second for doing this to him. “But… we were going to… What about the LGBT society? I’m going to have to run it by myself?” He rakes a hand through his hair and looks over at her. His mouth falls open and his hand drops to his lap. “Oh God I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“For making this about me,” he says. “This is about you.”

“Oh please, the other half of your soul has cancer, you can be a little self-centred,” she says.

“Who said you’re the other half of my soul?” he jokes.

“You did.” She lifts the half-heart around her neck, the twin to the one around his. He smiles sadly, his eyes glistening. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, holding on to the only trace of familiarity. “Besides, the club will survive without me. You can always get Cady to do it. I’m sure she’d love something for her college application.”

“Oh my God, Cady,” he says.

Why did she bring up Cady? she thinks as another wave of sadness crashes over and drowns her.

“Have you told her?” She shakes her head, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“How could I?” she says. “You’re… you’re one thing. Cady’s another.” She leans her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. “I don’t know how to do that to her.” Damian hums in understanding. He doesn’t need to ask what she means. He saw her at her absolute worst five years ago, at her most scared and angry and broken. He’s seen everything there is to her and it hasn’t pushed him away. Cady thinks she’s seen the bad, but that’s just scratching the surface. While she heard how it was back then, Damian lived and breathed it.

What she has with Cady is perfect, far too perfect to be scarred by something like this.

“You know… I could tell her for you,” he offers. “If it’s too much for you.”

“No,” she cuts him off, opening her eyes. “I can’t make you do that.”

“You’re not making me do anything,” he tells her. She nods, but the conversation ends there. Of course he’d do that for her. He’s the most loyal person she’s ever met, worthy of the Hufflepuff badge on his backpack. He’d move Heaven and Earth for the people he loves, especially in their hour of need. Or months of need, she guesses is her case now. He deserves endless happiness and love and joy, and an amazing senior year.

Seconds pass in silence before she croaks out “I’m sorry”.

“Did you just apologise for having cancer?” he asks. He shifts and tilts her head to make her look at him, his hands cupping her face and his eyes severe. She’s never seen him like this before, completely serious, devoid of jokes or laughter, and it makes her nervous. “Janis Catherine Sarkisian, don’t you dare. Don’t you dare apologise for this. This isn’t because of you. This is because… I don’t know. But it’s not you.”

“Okay.” She covers his hands with hers, her breath catching. His thumbs wipe at her wet cheeks and she wonders what she did to deserve him. “Okay, I won’t.”

“Good.” His voice cracks and two tears race each other down his cheek landing in his lap. He takes a heavy, shaking breath before continuing. “You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be fine.”

“Of course you’d say that,” she mumbles, their clasped hands now sitting between them.

“You will be,” he says again, a fierce determination shining on his face. “Even if I have to go in there and physically fight that cancer myself.”

“You’d win,” she tells him, sniffling. They sit in the quiet, letting the weight of her news settle over both of them, a new and terrifying reality looming in front of them. Then she reaches out and pulls him into a hug; her arms wrapped around him, her head in the crook of his neck. As he hugs her back, she can feel the anxiety in his touch and how his touch is far more careful now. Like she’ll break if he holds her too much. But there’s also courage in there and above all, so much tenderness and it makes her heart grow and almost burst out of her stone cold chest.

“I love you,” she whispers against his shirt.

“I love you too,” he replies, ferocity in his voice, and Janis is struck by just how grateful she is that her best friend is Damian.

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Broken Edges- Part 4

This is my version of fluff so enjoy it while it lasts! I wish I could apologize for the cliffhanger but it was so much fun to write...Who do you think is with our dear Y/N? 

Catch up HERE 

Steve Rogers x Reader 

Word Count: 1.8k 

Warnings: language, kidnap, flangst (if you squint)

***********************************************

“What the hell are you doin on the floor, pal?” Bucky’s voice sounded foggy as the message transmitted to Steve’s sensitive ears. He couldn’t hear anything above the high-pitched ring vibrating through his canals and taste the blood from biting the inside of his cheek. He was frozen, not in fear, but shame, humiliation, and unexplainable uncertainty. 

Steven Grant Rogers was officially the world’s biggest fuck up. Usually he could talk his way out of any troubling situation merely with his persuasive smile and easy-going personality, but Y/N destroyed him with her ingenuously quick tipped words. Steve kept thinking about the despondent look in her eyes before she abruptly slammed the door in his face. It was guaranteed to torment him not only during his waking hours but without question in the lingering night terrors yet to come.

Out of the blue, a large hand lingered upon his shoulder before the intruder cautiously shook him alerting him of the stranger’s very close proximity; “Steve, everything alright man?” It was Bucky. The only other person in this god forsaken building that probably didn’t want him flayed alive…at least not yet.

“Can I uh, ask why you are on the ground?”

Still stunned from his previous interaction with Y/N; he had no other choice but to man up to what he’d done. The words were like molting lava ready to escape a treacherous terrain but he reverted to simplistic quacking getting to the meat of the breakup. All confidence disappearing, Steve murmured;

“She dumped me.”

Steve felt Bucky’s grasp tighten against his right shoulder, giving him a hard pat for good measure before proceeding onward; “Well, she was pretty upset when I saw her this morning. That girl talks in code majority of the time so I didn’t really get the full story. I guess it didn’t end well based off the dumbfounded expression etched onto your face right now, hmm?”

Rapidly turning his head to meet another set of familiar baby blues, Steve no longer had control of what spewed from his lips at that very moment; “You don’t know shit, Bucky. I thought you were on my side.”

Exasperated, Bucky refuted back quicker than lightning; “Hey man, don’t take your frustrations out on me. I’ll always be on your side but I also have no freaking idea what really is going. So, please enlighten me to what the hell is exactly happening.”

Grunting, Steve no longer saw any point to hiding his demons. Sooner or later, the entire team would know how much of a dick he truly was. Might as well get ahead of the game.

“I slept with Nat. I made a colossal lapse in judgment and carelessly shattered Y/N. That’s what happened.”

Bucky backed away from his friend, unaware of how to process the information he was given. Thinking back to his earlier conversation with Y/N, Bucky finally started to connect the dots and align the context clues. The wheels in his mind rotated on full speed wondering just how Captain America found himself in such a predicament. He tapped his knee in hopes of getting the super soldier up and out of the hallway so they could continue this discussion in private. He definitely needed the gaps filled in for him even if he had to twist his best friend’s arm. Bucky was determined to get to the bottom of this.

                Y/N’s POV:

The cooling sensation of the door felt wonderful against Y/N’s tense back muscles. Her head clonked against the surface reminding her that she indeed had just kicked Steve Rogers out of her sight, and it felt fucking superb. She sauntered towards her bed faceplanting into an array of cush pillows aligning her headboard. Y/N wasn’t much for history but at that exact moment she felt like an amazon warrior; powerful and assertive. Throughout history, falling in love never got an easy reputation. Lives destroyed, homes ruined, families broken due to people’s selfish belief in the power of love. No one dared speak of its real consequences caged in the darkest corners of humanity. Awaiting the broken hearted like thorny vines on a rose bush; enticing from afar luring in its prey before singe-handedly attacking in the name of devoted adoration. That was certainly one way to lure the gullible and weak minded. 

She was neither, at least not anymore. Y/N rolled over gazing at her ceiling. For once the pressure in her chest dissipated, oxygen flowing into her airways. She was able to breath for the first time in months. She should’ve done this sooner. Y/N was now beginning to understand who her knight in shining armor truly was…the woman she had always been. Thinking back on Steve’s trepidation, Y/N spotted that her problem was she allowed herself to be wanted so badly, she couldn’t tell it wasn’t love at all. Initially noticing the beautiful wrapping paper that entailed her gift before understanding who really was layered within Steve Rogers.

Y/N didn’t let herself off the hook that easily. It takes two to tango when dancing with the devil and she eagerly obliged him. She settled for his pretentious impression of friendship permitting it to linger towards sex because she wanted him. Revenge was far too personal but vengeance, vengeance was cunning, detrimental, and brought a sickening grin to Y/N’s rosy lips. 

So long to the girl who was sweet and simple. Y/N refused to be what people tell her to be. That Y/N was long dead. But, before she could concoct her masterplan her brain swam mindlessly begging for sleep, her lids weighed heavily as Y/N found her eyes closing and her surroundings go black.

When Y/N awoke, her bones ached in a lethargic manner and she was in desperate demand of vodka; the perfect numbing agent.   Her limbs riddled from stress; she stretched, a loud yawn escaping its way out. It was then Y/N realized she wasn’t alone in her room. Impossible. After giving Steve the boot, she had made sure Jarvis had secured all locks and rejected all wandering guests. 

A calm red glow caught her attention in the corner of her room. Wanda. Though intrusive, Wanda’s company was pacifically soothing and exactly what Y/N yearned for.

Wanda watched intuitively staring in Y/N’s direction unwillingly to break the peaceful calm.

“Wanda, I’m not blind. I can clearly see you creeping in the corner.”

Wanda sassed back at rapid fire; “Oh my god, she speaks! Wow, for a second I thought you were dead.”  

A giggle passed Y/N’s lips, it felt refreshing to laugh; “I thought you read minds. Didn’t you get the memo I’m in mourning?”

Clearly amused, Wanda accepted Y/N’s bait; “Hmm, who died?”

Y/N bit the inside of her lip thinking twice before speaking; “The old Y/N. She’s dead and gone.”

“Interesting. And who is gracing my presence as we speak?”

“A badass bitch who no longer has a filter to deal with Captain America’s bullshit. That’s who.”

Instinctively, Wanda blushed unable to stop her powers from intruding upon Y/N’s thoughts.

“I’m sooo sorry, Y/N. I freaking slipped and please believe me when I say I didn’t mean to…”

Wanda neared her bed sitting at the corners edge, not to close but just enough. Knowing her darkest fruition finally felt quite liberating even if she hated to admit it. Of course, Y/N was irritated that Wanda unintentionally read her most secretive thoughts, she couldn’t fathom being mad at her friend for trying to help.

“I can’t believe him! Out of all people and Nat knew how you felt about him? I’m all about keeping the peace…but this is unacceptable.”

A breath whooshed through Y/N’s chest as she gathered herself; “You’re telling me…Steve almost said he loved me before I stopped him. There were so many things I wanted to tell him. But honestly, I hated knowing he’d been inside of her…given her such an intimate part of himself. Please tell me I’m not crazy?”

Y/N hated bringing Wanda, the idealistic middle (wo)man into this brass situation, but the white elephant in the room needed to be addressed at some point or another.

“Я понимаю мою любовь.” (I understand my love)

“я чувствую себя таким разбитым” (I feel so broken)

“You don’t have to explain. I literally…. get it. I just want to punch him in that rightful nose of his. Jesus! That man is infuriating.”

“He wasn’t always that way. Trust me.”

“But you love hi—”

“No….: Shaking her head in vast disagreement. “No. No. No. Please don’t say that, please.”

“…if you insist Y/N. I’m on your side regardless but I’m also bipartisan if Stark asks.”

Y/N couldn’t deny the inevitable; “Thank you…. Thank you for being a friend, Wanda.”  

   ------

Y/N’s resounding feelings were more than Wanda could handle without alcohol’s boost of influence. So, she stupidly made her way towards Tony’s lounge promising Wanda they’d catch up later. Nothing better than a little peace and quiet Y/N prayed, banking on its abandoned state.

Upon entrance, Y/N’s mouth watered, her throat parched as she appreciated the overly stocked bar Stark was so keen on maintaining.  Vodka soda with extra lime was her main pick of poison. She reveled in the slow burn down into her lungs, she moaned with pleasure. 

This was exactly what the doctor ordered. Y/N started to worry about being left alone with her thoughts for too long would be a bad thing, or a more challenging way of figuring her shit out.

Of course, Tony chose the finest of leather couches who’s price she probably didn’t dare guess. Y/N fell right into its cushiony heaven trying to not spill her drink in the process. She brought the chilled glass to her lips before gulping the remainder of the iced beverage no longer in existence. With her heels kicked up and feelings at bay for the meantime, Y/N briefly closed her eyes welcoming the darkness.

An enigmatic voice came out of the corner like a ghost lingering in the shadows, startling Y/N.

“Y/N. So very nice to see you again.”

A voice morphed from her very own nightmares.

“Hail Hydra моя милая богиня” (my sweet girl).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:  @kaithezaftig @awesomefanficlover @marvelfansworld @sergeantjbuckybarnes @hista-girl @calwitch @silent-loucidity@flightofthefantasies @lovely-geek @shannon124 @hulksmashin-bannerpackin@siren-queen03 @heyiamthatbitch @bake-motherfucka-bake @girls-inred @kielemarie @donner5822 @sophiria @iluvsumbucky @xstevenat

[bellygunnr]

all the world’s a stage

The Death Rogumer was not a large airship, but it was imposing in its own right. It glided through the air under a quarter of its power, ponderous at such a slow speed, clad in a royal purple and burnished gold regalia. Its name was inscribed along its bow which bulged out beneath the sword-like figurehead, a deadly aerial rapier. A giant lens, a contraption of glass and steel, rotated, extending, shifting until it could view the sprawling city unobstructed. The ship banked, rolling so gently in the air, exposing the electric cannons stationed on its slim upper deck. Steam hissed out from their rounded chassis as their barrels extended; red lights flashed for as long as the cannons turned to position, glowing solid green when their mark was found.

Their target was an elegant, conical skyscraper that made the city's skyline iconic, a legendary silhouette recognized by many. Its glass face shattered in the brutal wake of the cannon-barrage. More than plasma ammunition, shards burst from the half-ton shells, raining fire on the city below. These embers floated, descending, skipping through the air as the wind took them, then latched onto the ground and neighboring buildings, singular burning cinders where they did not ignite what was below them. Above, the skyscraper shuddered, failing to regain its strength when another two-gun barrage assaulted its broken flanks.

Its assailant circled the beaten structure, engines burning low and steady. The Death Rogumer no longer lumbered, but sauntered through the air, a circling shark awaiting the next opportunity to bite. Fire from the city below washed its sleek hull in a flickering orange glow. It banked again, settled onto an even keel-- and exploded.

A fin on its starboard side burst apart from the inside. The explosion rocked the airship simultaneously with cannon fire-- the combined inertia saw the ship plummet, flaming from its open hull, a main engine going up with it. Yet, as quickly as the inferno began, all was smothered, choked out by thick white foam and a flood of emergency drones from within. The Death Rogumer shuddered violently, shaking off the wound, and struggled into a climb.

The ascent was slow. It clawed its way back to a cool, safe three thousand, above the skyscraper which was now collapsing in on itself, and above the city, terrified but alive. There was a pronounced list to the airship. The repair drones broke from their duties to latch onto the battered decks, miniature motors whining, straining, a dozen or so contributors against a starboard tilt. The airship heaved.

The airship limped.

-

While the center of the city burned, the rest ground to a standstill. Jumbo-Trons and billboards flickered, the now-familiar warning message disappearing. The repetitive emergency instructions played alongside city sirens died down to a low, vibrating buzz, an oppressive hum that choked the ears and numbed the brain. The sound permeated the tons of concrete and steel as to be felt in the bones of various underground shelters.

One such shelter thrummed ominously. Marcus looked up from his book, eyes flicking from his companions to the open doorway to the television screen, suddenly alive with static. He watched it apprehensively, wincing when the intercom system blared. The speakers clicked rapidly, like gunshots.

The thrum died down. The shelter stopped shaking, as did their bones, and the screen warped colorfully. When it recovered, Marcus was staring at slightly grainy footage--

"That's the airship! It has to be!" Marcus cried, shocked. The airship had been popular before the Maverick War; its decks were as familiar to him as they were to Storm Eagle. "What's happening? How are they doing this?"

The footage flickered. When it returned, it was much clearer, and audio tuned in with it. Whistling gales played over the intercom, but Marcus found it as abrasive as the feedback, if not worse.

-

The explosion had knocked X into a titanium door, jamming up his shoulder. The damaged joint creaks and grinds in his ear as he clambers up a narrow ladder chute, pushing himself off the upper rung and onto the ship's prow. A shadow is already cast across the deck and he's mildly glad for it-- the sun is blazing overhead, bright and uncaring. He knows it would have blinded him if not for the ship's secondary rudder.

It also helps that Storm Eagle is the one blotting out the sun , X thinks dimly.

The former Commander holds himself aloft, a combined effort between gallant purple wings and dual shoulder-mounted rockets. He's intimidating, always has been, but now he also makes X feel sickened-- this is not the same Reploid he met as a rookie Maverick Hunter.

But it is , a voice whispers. You don't know if he was infected or merely defected.

X shakes off the thought.

"You've damaged the Death Rogumer . You must know that we'll be lucky to crash land outside of city limits, yes?" Storm Eagle calls, his voice reedy, a thin whistle to it. "No matter. The only acceptable death is one found in combat!"

Storm Eagle dives down. The sun flares out, brilliant, and X's face aches as his optics work double time to compensate. He dashes across the deck, clearing it in one, but as he twists around to face his adversary, he's already within seconds of blowing him away. X stumbles more than rolls out of the way as Storm Eagle's wings threaten to cleave him in two.

When he pops back up, it is with his buster blazing, yellow plasma tracking Storm Eagle across the platform. He sights crackles of satisfying smoke; his buster hums, residual plasma beginning to gather around the mouth of the barrel.

"I see you've improved!" Storm Eagle says, laughing, a sound punctuated by chirps. "But you're still just a rookie."

-

The first attack had been close. Marcus paws at hands grasping his arm, prying the clutch grip off. He can feel his heartbeat in his chest, an overwhelming sense of anxiety stealing him. None of this moment made sense-- the footage, the rattling terror in their bones, or the clash of Reploids above a burning city.

It didn't make sense.

But it was hope.

-

The charged shot is timed well, in X's opinion. Storm Eagle's gale rips across the platform, plying at the tips of his boots as he leaps above the focused stream, but his shoulder jolts at the recoil. The shot, aimed for the other's open chest, flies wide. X hardly has time to brace himself as he falls back into the wind tunnel, fingers tearing at metal.

The gust dissipates around him. X slumps against the deck, relieved, but is violently reminded of his situation when massive, vice-like talons clamp around his torso. His skeleton creaks as Storm Eagle squeezes and lofts him into the air.

"Perhaps this is dishonorable, but you left yourself open, Maverick Hunter X!"

His body lurches, and then there is nothing but open air and pain.

-

Marcus cries out in alarm as he watches the battle. Had it been too much to hope? Had their naivety tipped the scales out of the blue Reploid's favor? It was agonizing. X fell through the sky, disappearing from view in only seconds, but it felt like years.

"He can't die here! We need you, X!" Marcus exclaims, but it was mostly to himself.

-

X descends, but not as far as God or Storm Eagle intended him to.

He descends, but his body is skidding the surface of the wounded Death Rogumer , and it's enough for his boots to find purchase. With no small amount of strain, X kicks against the bruised hull of the ship and goes the only direction available to him-- up.

-

Storm Eagle is walking off the platform at a casual stride. Grief and dread sit heavy in Marcus' heart. It sits heavy in all their hearts.

"He's not dead, he can't be. We need him," someone says, and Marcus can't help but agree, bowing his head.

"He's not dead! Look! Mega Man!"

-

X walks across the deck unopposed-- for the most part. He fights the slanting, listing deck, his eyes hardening as he understands this to be a ship in her death throes. His time was running out.

"Storm Eagle!" X shouts, throwing his arms wide open, gasping as his shoulder wrenches. "I lived! Can't we work something out?"

The former Commander turns, one hand on the door to the ship's cabin. His beak drops open in surprise, eyes wide underneath his golden mask. X stares back unflinchingly, knowing that he must be quite a sight.

"No one has to die," X continues, plaintive.

The Death Rogumer groans.

"What of Chill Penguin, then?" Storm Eagle replies.

-

The fight is on again.

The fight is knife's edge close, a toe-to-toe stand between a stowaway and a corsair.

The camera shakes sometimes, revealing how bad off the ship is in fits and bursts. Marcus watches Storm Eagle make sweeping dives at X, but each time he zooms away, a feather is plucked, shearing off in a smoldering heap.

"He's doing so much better!"

"He must have found his stride..."

"You can do this, X! Mega Man!"

-

X goes up in light. When the light fades, his armor is a paler hue, bodysuit a bold yellow. He continues to track Storm Eagle across the sky, pacing the platform, buster vibrating with a suppressed charge shot.

He watches as the Eagle wings around, flight now a wobbly, barely sustained trajectory toward his target. It's enough for X to level his buster, optics shrinking as he locks in-- the small of Storm Eagle's back, the rocket pack--

Arctic cold floods X's circuits as he looses his shot. A barbed mound of ice soars through the air, followed by a rapid-fire burst of ice shards.

The Death Rogumer shudders underfoot.

X's feet slide out from under him.

Storm Eagle crashes unceremoniously into the stern of his own flagship.

-

"He got him! X did it!"

"He did it! X really is a Mega Man!"

-

The Death Rogumer breaks apart. X finally plummets, his body going slack as he clears the fractured deck.

If the camera aboard the ship had still been rolling, then all those watching could have seen Mega Man X weep.

[xenosgirlvents]

La’al learned quickly of the world around her, her curiosity far outstripping the already astonishing levels of most children her age. Part of it was due to what remained of her childish innocence, that wide-eyed awe children of any species hold for everything new. But a far greater factor was born of a need to know why someone would so something so evil as what was done to her home and how to stop that from happening. She picked up on the cultures of the T’au and Aeldari around her with the same ease as could be expected from the Por’faan – even being one of the few T’au allowed to bear witness to the Exodites’ surviving ritual masters finally commit their dead into the H’kek’an World Spirit. This learning was aided, oddly enough, by the lack of traditional T’au educators left around H’kek’an. With all those who had been present on the world before its fall dead, and the Empire at large deciding that sending civilians across a warzone was likely a bad use of resources, she and the few other young T’au who had survived had to make do with the adults present. As even with their collective protectiveness over the young girl the few adult Shas’faan who had been left behind were patrolling with constant vigilance bordering on paranoia, La’al herself had little option but to live under the roof of the Fio’O who had made her limbs and eyes, something neither objected to.

As a young Fire-caste, La’al learned soon that she was, of course, expected to one day serve in a similar capacity. Unfortunately, her prosthetics were far from ready for that. With what miniscule amounts of time they had spare to try teaching her, the older Shas had found her mental acuity to be remarkable, not even just for her age, but her physical capacity was atrocious. For all the mechanical strength her limbs could provide, they were sluggish to respond and clumsy in their movements. La’al at her top speed could barely keep up with a rapid walk and her arms were utterly lacking in even the most basic dexterity. Likewise, though her new eyes were able to adapt to changing light levels more rapidly than those of other T’au, they struggled to track movement and were completely colorblind. She couldn’t even play with the few other children who had survived, T’au or Exodite alike. Living under the care of an Earth-caste as she was, La’al knew that, unlike those other children, her body would not get stronger as she aged and practiced.

“Ajii?” the young girl asked Yr’va’yan one day as he was calibrating her eyes, still not quite old enough to have yet internalized the taboo of calling a member of a different caste – especially the one who was giving her such care and attention – ‘Papa’, “Can you… Can you make me better?”

He looked back down at her from stretching his fingers to do his delicate work, La’al sitting in an oversized medical chair with one eye focusing and dilating chaotically, stopping herself from wincing each time it rotated, painful and unbidden, in its socket. The Fio’s almost ever-present smile turned down slightly at the edges, the lines on his aging face deepening. They both knew what she was asking of him. Cybernetic augmentation is a far from comfortable experience, even at its most base level. A simple prosthesis still needs to connect directly to the nervous system. As such, and due in part to the unique intricacies of a T’au’s nervous system, the patient cannot be put under full anesthesia, so as to ensure a proper connection. This was what had first been done with La’al, but it wouldn’t be enough. Most amputees had an asymmetry to them, with one limb being mechanical while the other was flesh and blood, the natural one giving guidance and balance to the other. La’al didn’t have that luxury, and Yr’va’yan knew that there was only one way to make up for it. Military grade prostheses, especially and specifically those with “symmetrical” amputations, so to speak, were connected in a specialized procedure. One in which the patient receives no anesthesia at all.

La’al had overheard a discussion between Yr’va’yan and the Shas’El in command of local defenses over when she would be ready for the full augmentations. Neither had been of the mind that she would be able to tolerate the pain until she was much older. Even so, when she asked her “Ajii” what the two of them had been talking about, he couldn’t refuse her inquisitive smile. She had listened carefully to his words then and understood them all. And now, months later, the child knew exactly what she asked of him.

“La’al…” Yr’va’yan replied, slowly, sadly, “You… You do not know the pain you are asking me to give you, or the pain I would have to take to heart myself…” said the Earth-caste, knowing full well that he lied, and hoping against hope that his Little Hero could not tell as he finished work to adjust her eye. He went to speak again, but his words caught in his throat as La’al reached up from her chair to take his calloused hand in her own metal one, wishing deeply that she could feel its warmth, the warmth of her mother and father’s hands still clinging fast to her mind. As it was, with such simple replacement parts, she could barely feel the faint pressure of him gripping hers in return.

“I know, Ajii… I don’t want to hurt you, but we hurt worse already… And… and I want to make others not hurt,” the Little Hero said, a look on her face as if she would be crying if she had the physical ability. “We hurt more together, Ajii. And nobody else hurts anymore.” A small, scared smile formed on her face, not unlike the one that Yr’va’yan would often wear. As his own formed once again, he picked his Little Hero up from her chair and held her in a soft hug, his head nodding slowly.

“We take all the pain for ourselves, eh, little one? Aye, I think that’s a worthwhile cause.”

(Next part’s up. I’m trying to upload once or twice a week, but I also like to have the next section largely blocked out before I post in case something comes up. 

Because of the rather lacking detail GW has actually put into how the T'au work and with that one autopsy report kinda straying from canon already, I felt I could take a liberty or two with their inner workings. Also: https://www.docdroid.net/dwpTimc/expanded-tau-lexicon-2018-ver-21.pdf here is the Lexicon I’ve been using for the others who might be interested. As always, please feel free to share any questions or criticisms you might have, and I hope everyone has a good weekend)

Thanks for sharing again! As for comments: yeah GW and BL do not flesh out the T’au, or any faction barring the Imperium really, to any substantial degree so I think feel free to experiment and move in whatever direction you want.

Also thank you for the lexicon link! That’ll prove useful to me as well in future.

Then; I like the idea of the prosthetics. Considering they exist, and the T’au already have a proven aptitude for machine-brain interfaces, a greater emphasis on cybernetics and prosthetics to help injured T’au is something I’d expect to see more of, so it’s a cool idea to use here. I am interested to see, since I assume she’ll eventually also wind up in a Battlesuit, there’s some ground to write their, of course, about the suit itself connecting in places akin to her prosthetic, more clearly an extension of herself, akin to Commander Bravestorm’s situation.