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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

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Humans are Space orcs, “Revelation.”

Hey guys, I had a bunch of trouble writing last night for some reason, but I managed to get something out, so I hope you like it :)

“So what do you think, am I more of a Han Solo type or a Captain Kirk type because you know if I am being honest it really depends. I think I would like to think of myself as a Han Solo type, you know dashing and sarcastic, the hero you want to have come in to save the day, but Captain Kirk I can also see. You see I make dumb decisions sometimes and get everyone into trouble. Oh oh oh!! wait ! How about Captain Malcom Renylds. I feel like he is just enough of an idiot and just enough of a badass to work, what do you think detective?”

The Detective groaned loudly and took a long slow breath, “Admiral, listen to m-”

“You know I was also thinking about other parallels. You know how about that old animated movie Titan EA. I think I kind of look like Cale, and Sunny acts just a bit like Stith, you know, the angry chick with big legs. I liked captain Korso of course, just for simple aesthetic reasons, than he had to go and be a bad guy, but damn that redemption arc was surprising and well timed, at least I think, others may disagree.”

“ADMIRAL VIR I-”

“You know I have seen every space related science fiction movie and TV show that ever existed, and I am totally cool to keep talking. I mean I have to pass the time somehow until my lawyer gets here. You see my mother always said I liked to talk. I talked early, in fact, my brothers don’t like the fact that I talk so much, they say I talk TOO much, can you believe that.”

With an angry yawl like a Cat who just got their tail stepped on, the detective rose to his feet, hands to his head, “That is IT, that is IT. We will continue this interrogation LATER.” He turned on his heels and stormed out of the room muttering to himself the entire way, “I need a break.”

Adam Vir watched him go with an expression of pure innocence on his face as the door closed, only to morph into an expression of devilish amusement not dissimilar to that of the grinch in his original animated form. He leaned back in his chair resting his hands behind his head. The Detective had seen fit to undue his cuffs as it might make him more cooperative. The irony being that he would totally love to cooperate if someone was willing to cooperate with him, and actually believe his story.

He cleared his throat wishing he had accepted the drink of water offered to him earlier. He had been talking for about five hours now, straight. Apparently a filibuster isn’t just something you can use in politics. It is apparently a very effective way of driving young and inexperienced detectives insane.

He smugly leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

Interrogation techniques were designed to work on the guilty, or, if done wrong, on the slow, but he was neither of those things. Granted he was kind of an idiot, but he was more of an idiot in the way of his idols like captain Kirk and Malclom reynolds and less of an idiot like every disney villain’s cronies. He was smart just…. Selectively.

He cracked an eye as the door opened opposite.

At first he expected to see the detective ready to go another round already, but instead a group of Drev guards walked in. He smiled his best winning smile at them and rose from his seat, “Back to the cells boys.”

The Drev didn’t say anything.

He tried a different tactic, “Zhad chal dana tsa najastich.” May the sun watch over you: A traditional, and respectful, Drev greeting

The two creatures pulled up in their tracks.

“Tsa Dzhal cheeych” You speak Drev

“Yid.” Yes

His little greeting had the desired effect, and soon he had the two Drev warriors conversing like two Rundi at a political debate. They laughed together as they walked down the halls of the precinct.

Still in Drev, the three of them continued to converse, Adam talking animatedly, “So then I told him that I can’t hit kids right, and he was all like. Then you can fight me.”

“What happened.”

“Got my ass beat. You don’t just challenge a sentinel to open combat as a rookie, and you know, at only six feet tall.”

The Drev chirped with laughter, coming around the corner to nearly run face first into the Detective who was open mouthed and staring, holding a fresh mug of coffee before him. The Drev’s laughter died down seconds to late, and the man narrowed his eyes, glowering at them.

“What are you doing?”

Adam turned to look at the other drev, “Tin Najastich.” watch this.

HE turned to look back at the Detective, “Ne’e j’ya eeneenat nehtehich.” He can’t understand us. He didn’t do much, but he could tell by the face the detective made, he had done it right.

It was a little trick he had learned from Sunny, a Drev dialect that tended to cause breaks in the middle of words as if adding a apostrophe, while simultaneously pronouncing all the ts and ks as clicks, the ts as a forward mouth clicks and the ks glottal clicks at the back of the throat. Either way, it was like putting on a thick southern accent to confuse an alien translator, and it seemed, it simultaneously worked for Drev.

The Drev began to laugh and babble at each other in the dialect as the detective sat there in frustrated anger, “What are they saying!” He demanded.

Adam frowned allowing his face to go straight as he deadpanned, “I wouldn’t know. I am xenopobic and would never dane to learn an alien language, you know, like Drev, or Vrul, or.” he leaned towards the Dredv, “I am currently working on learning tesraki.”

The Drev continued to laugh as they pulled him back towards his cell.:

Adam grinned and waved at the Tesraki guard as he walked past, “You know I have it on good authority that stock prices are about to go way up for holywood inc. They are working on becoming intergalactic. I would suggest getting on that bandwagon”

The Tesraki looked surprised, but grinned and waved at him as he was moved into the other room.

Behind him, the Detective was practically blowing steam out of his ears as the door slammed shut.

***

The human glanced over at Krill for the fifteenth time eyes wide in an expression of barely concealed terror.

Krill would have rolled his eyes if his eyes could roll.

Catching the look, Sunny frowned and leaned in, “You did threaten to eat him.”

Krill scoffed, “I don’t even have TEETH sunny, how was I supposed to eat him!” He turned to glance over at the man who was still giving him a bit of a side eye. He frowned, “Well, I suppose blending him up and turning him into a meat smoothie could work.”

It became pretty evident in the next few seconds that they hadn’t been speaking quietly enough, at least when it came to the comment about a meat smoothie.

Krill waved him off with a hand, “Oh just ignore us, now when is this meeting supposed to take place.”

“Ten minutes, maybe.”

Sunny tilted her head back, looking overhead at the darkened sky and approaching rain.

It was just beginning to drizzle when the man nodded and pointed forward into the darkness, “There.”

Sunny squinted hard, just barely able to make out a shadowy shape slipping through the darkness.

Sunny nudged him forward, “Well, go on. If you do this for us, I won’t let captain cannibal hurt you.”

WIth that urging, it didn’t take long for the man to vanish off into the dark, boots slapping on the wet concrete.

Krill turned to look at her in annoyance, “Its only considered cannibalism if you eat your own species.”

“Whatever,” She muttered, moving into a low crouch and slipping into the shadows off to the side. She managed to parallel the movement of their man for a few streets by ducking behind dumpsters and concealing herself within dark alcoves. At one time in her life she might have considered such actions to be heretical against her beliefs, but her opinions on such things had changed as of recently, and she continued to inch forward through the darkness.

Besides, this was about saving Adam.

Didn’t matter what she had to do, she was going to do it.

The human was close now stopping a few feet away from the shadow. The way the rain fell, it almost concealed the two figures as they spoke. Any bystander just passing by might not have noticed them, but Sunny was not just any bystander.

As the two figures disengaged, she had eyes only for one.

The human, likely scared out of his skin went sprinting off into the darkness likely thinking about krill and his meat blender, but his escape didn’t matter to Sunny. She could find him later if she had to, they had his name after all. What they didn’t have was knowledge about this strange hooded figure in black. The one who had paid the humans to incriminate adam, and themselves by proxy.

Sunny didn’t know much about stealth as a general rule, but She, still, somehow managed to make it up the street without being seen, tailing the small dark figure. That was her first clue, whoever it was was either a very short human, or not human at all. Now that didn’t really narrow things down as there were several species who could fit into that category, burg iotins even some rundi, or a finnari to name a few. Not that she would ever assume a finnari of doing something like this.

She watched as the figure slipping into one of the large buildings, door shutting quietly behind it. She might have worried about losing the tail if she hadn’t already considered that, and lowjacked the package.

She crouched in the darkness her hands resting on the ground before her, eyes narrowed,

A soft rustling behind her, and she turned nearly jumping out of her skin as a figure scuttled from the darkness, its movements disjointed and aggressive.

“SHHH!” Krill hissed

She snorted fuming, “What the fuck, krill you scared the shit out of me.”

“What, why.”

“Oh I dont know, maybe it has been your recent pension for violence, or the fact that you keep talking about eating people, or your uncanny ability to sneak up behind me.”

“You know, I find all of this to be very insulting. You can stab people in the face, and adam can threaten to punch people in the trachea, but the moment I do something that is even slightly off color, it bothers everyone, and then people get all uppity.”

Sunny sighed, pulling her hood up over her head to block out the deluge, “Generally Adam and I don’t threaten to eat people, Krill. That is the difference.”

“Well no one ever told me there were rules.” He said, gripping onto sunny’s cloak as they inched forward into the darkness, following the signal towards the dark building. They didn’t take the same entrance as the cloaked figure, instead going for a more discreet entrance, finding themselves in a maintenance tunnel lined with pipes and power boxes.

The only illumination they got was afforded to them by the glowing dimness of red lights above and the occasional emergency strip. Somewhere, a distant roar alerted them to the presence of some sort of generator.

They moved up the hall in near silence as the rumbling continued, and Sunny was forced to stop a few times, listening to the distant echoes of footsteps up the hallway though none of them ever came close enough to cause a real problem.

KRill followed at her back.

Soon enough, they had made it out of the maintenance corridors, following a set of slim metal steps upward and into a nice, tiled hallway. The make was very modern for Tesraki, emulating human style which was rather popular in the galaxy these days, and signified wealth despite the fact that humans were hardly the wealthiest of species.

Fake plants, or maybe real ones --sunny didn’t know-- lined the hallways as little fountains of water trickled through artificial streams on the floor.

The aesthetic was rather pleasing, giving an almost outdoor field inside a city that hadn’t seen green in over a thousand years.

They were almost to the end of the hall when sunny went very still freezing in her tracks fast enough to cause krill to plow into her open back.

“What are you doing.” krill hissed glancing over her shoulder, pausing when a pointed finger motioned him to the target.

“No. That can’t be right.

“I am afraid it is.” ***

Adam woke that night not knowing why.

It was almost as if he had hard a strange noise somewhere in the darkness, but when he sat up, the only thing he could see was the glowing blue/purple wall of the containment field.

He tried rolling over and going back to sleep, but something just felt wrong.

Eventually he forced himself to sit up and look around. In the galaxy, human intuition was nothing more than mere myth, but, despite what others said, he believed in it, and wasn’t about to ignore it’s prodding as it moved him up towards the edge of the containment field to peer into the darkness.

His eyes were almost immediately drawn to one of the other cells -- the one where his attackers had been staying--. Squinting past the glowing surface and into the darkness, he thought he could sense movement.

It was at that moment, that the containment field went down, and he was left blinking into the darkness backing away into his little field of light. When nothing happened, he inched forward and out into the darkness.

Had the containment field malfunctioned?

He took another step into the darkness before turning on the infrared on his mechanical eye and flipping up his eyepatch.

He immediately froze in palace gasping in shock.

“NO!”

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risingsouls · 3 years ago

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Recruited: Chapter 10

[I did another thing! This one is a lot shorter than the last several have been and a little more filler-y BUT we’re getting close to canon stuff (that I’m trying to figure out how I want to write and format still). SO here we gooooo!]

Vegeta

Any miniscule time he was forced to spend alone with Frieza aggravated the prince. Whether to bear the brunt of some reprimand, to listen to him discuss business to an audience of intergalactic dignitaries at a stupid feast he was dragged to and forced to endure like some pet, or to nod along with him prattling on about himself and insulting Vegeta or his race in a single breath, he preferred it when running an empire distracted Frieza from his existence. This rare occasion of the tyrant requesting his company on a special mission had the same effects: the usual rage of being helpless to end the emperor's life, the discomfort of watching his every step and word, the humiliation of bearing his belittling commentary and pretending to be his proud, obedient attack dog. It was maddening, and the only solace in the trip was that he left Dodoria and Zarbon both been behind to attend to other business.

Nappa, Raditz, and Nabooru had also been ordered to deal with another assignment while Vegeta accompanied Frieza. Disconcerting due to the fact that, in circumstances such as this, his cohorts would be ordered to remain on base until his return, placed on a schedule that included training and any other grunt work the commanders could find for them. However, he supposed Frieza wanted to keep his top teams busy conquering planets for him. Vegeta hadn't missed the increase in work they had been assigned, and even their latest three day reprieve had been cut short. He tried to convince himself it all meant nothing, that, even if Frieza noticed how the four of them trained more often than usual in their free time, his ego would keep him from getting too suspicious. But Vegeta couldn't deny the increase in his own paranoia with each passing day. Each day he stepped closer to exacting revenge and killing the bastard, and he constantly found himself dwelling on every possible scenario that could skew or outright obliterate his plot.

"It's almost a relief to have different company for once," Frieza mused, a wine glass held between his middle and index fingers. He nodded to the bottle, a silent insistence Vegeta top him off. The Saiyan swallowed his grimace and did as he was bade. Zarbon's or Dodoria’s usual task. He noted the shift of his crimson eyes to the still near full glass in his gloved hand, and took the hint to take another measured sip. "Zarbon and Dodoria tend to bore me after a while. And their bickering...if they weren't so loyal and useful, I may have offed them by now out of sheer annoyance."

Vegeta chuckled, practiced amusement and rehearsed reactions. "I can only imagine," he responded. Another glance spurred him to add, "I suffer the same with Raditz and Nappa. Though it's less their bickering than some inane, disgusting topic of conversation I don't care to hear in detail."

"Yes, I suppose that is an unfortunate vice of the lower classes, their obsessions with sating their lust." Frieza swirled the wine in his glass, black lips downturned in disgust. "A product of lower brain function, I suppose. They have little more than lewd absurdity to keep their minds occupied. Something the two of us fortunately don't suffer from."

The prince bowed his head, performing each gesture that appeased Frieza with loathing. He didn't care for his useless compliments. He found it hard to focus on them when all he could imagine was ripping those horns from his head and burying them in his eye sockets. Or shoving the wine glass into his mouth and forcing him to chew it up and swallow the shards to laugh as he watched him spit blood onto the pristine floor. "Thank you, my lord. Your compliments are the highest honor."

"And they do not come lightly, Vegeta. You are an enigma of your kind. Had your race not perished, you would have made a fine ruler. Far better than your father." Vegeta ignored the twinge of rage his words plucked in favor of focusing on drinking the dry wine. "Yes, my tutelage has done wonders for you. Perhaps if my father had done the same with yours as I have done for you, perhaps he, too, could have evolved from a mere monkey playing court and dressed in regalia to a full-fledged ruler."

To keep his grip loose on the stem of his glass and not shatter it proved challenging in the face of his father's mockery. No matter his mixed feelings of the deceased Saiyan king, he did not take insults of his memory well. Especially from the likes of Frieza. He bit his tongue and once more drank to silence the blazing barrage of insults he wanted to sling in retort.

"You are too kind, my lord." The words burned like acid on his tongue. "I agree that my growth under your watchful eye has favored me greatly. I thank you."

"Of course. I saw promise in you the moment I set eyes on you. However, there is always room to grow and learn, wouldn't you say?"

His tone, the smirk on his lips, ramped Vegeta's paranoia to near overload. Had Frieza found out about his plotting? Led him and his team straight into a trap of some sort?

He was given little time to consider as Frieza spoke up again. "Earlier you only mentioned your Saiyan comrades. It reminded me that you and I have never fully discussed the fourth I added to your team. How has she fared?"

"Nabooru is a competent warrior, well-versed in her craft and battle strategy. She fits in well, and, outside of being mouthy and questioning my authority once in a while, she's proven her worth." He glanced to the wide window before them, to the passing stars and junk, the endless void of space. "She learns quickly and strives to improve where she can. She was hesitant to carry out orders, but has grown out of it for the most part."

Frieza laughed. "Such a glowing report from the commander who pitched a fit over my decision." Vegeta's lips tightened to a thin line and his brows lowered ever further, only encouraging the emperor's delight. "I can't say I'm surprised she has a belligerent streak. Her former king said the same of her when I asked in one of our visits. Your temper must be improving if her first strike didn't convince you to kill her. I have seen you kill for less, after all, Vegeta."

Vegeta clicked his tongue. "She's simply lucky she figured out not to take her insubordination too far with me. Otherwise, I would have. Her power level and skill be damned."

"A lesson well-learned, it seems. I recall it took you some time to learn the same, but I suppose you had the excuse of being a mere child."

Vegeta merely nodded, the memories of the physical abuses doled out by Frieza's or one of his cohorts' hands when he rebelled and the scars left behind all too fresh despite their age. The mental mutilation of the mind games the tyrant played with him. Each had served their purpose because he vowed and showed respect to the bastard with little beckoning. It made him sick, clawed at his pride and convinced him death would be a more pleasant fate. But he wanted revenge more than anything, so survive he must. No matter the cost. It would be worth it someday.

"Sir, we are approaching our target," the captain announced. "T-minus five minutes."

"Excellent. Remember, there will be no need to land here."

Vegeta glanced to Frieza when his scouter pinged. He pressed the button on the side. "Ah, what good timing, Nabooru. You have landed on Planet Noya and met with the other team there?"

Frieza cut the transmission and sighed dramatically. "Unfortunate, really." He finished off his wine and set the glass aside. "Shikoo and his team were quite the commodity. But one too many rumors about stoking rebellions and insubordination makes it difficult to keep such bad seeds among the loyal."

He waited for her reply, the smirk on his lips growing ever wider. "Yes, yes, I am aware of the success in purging the planet. The instructions to rendezvous with the soldiers sent to Noya were...purposefully vague. The task for you and the Saiyans is to kill that team. Don't worry your pretty head over why, dear. It's unbecoming of a soldier.. Their punishment has been a long time coming."

Vegeta's throat closed up and his mouth dried out. "The proper decision, it sounds like, sire," he managed, finishing his own glass and abandoning it. "Not to overstep my own boundaries, but I assumed we were purging this planet we're going to."

"We are. In a sense." He hoisted himself into his hover chair and propped his elbow on the edge, cheek resting in his palm. His crimson gaze rested on Vegeta, unblinking. "The denizens are...formidable enough, especially en masse, and intel suggests they wish to rebel against me. I have decided the time and potential casualties aren't worth the effort for what little the planet has to offer in the long run, so destroying it entirely will be a far better use for dealing with them. One and done, as they say."

A rare instance in which Vegeta agreed with Frieza’s methodology. He wished he would pass down such an order more often than he did, frankly. Putting down rebellions wasted time when they typically ended up murdering them all anyway. Any extra precautions and instructions usually forced them to hold back or went up in smoke not long after they landed. While he understood that some planets had more value than others, blowing up the planets and washing their hands of the business would allow them to take on more jobs. Send a team to gather whatever resources from the planet beforehand and then he and his team or one like his could destroy the place and move on. Not to mention he liked the thrill, the power behind destroying an entire world on his own.

A blue green planet slowly drifted into view, decent sized with a large landmass facing the ship in its current position in its rotation. Frieza waved for him to follow him to the center of the ship. "Come along. Vegeta. We will approach close enough that your ki will protect you from the lack of oxygen. I will allow you to do the honors."

Vegeta took the blare of the signal for the opening of the uppermost hatch as his cue to surround himself in a protective barrier of energy. While he could not survive the void of space this way, it offered protection from suffocation for at least a few minutes. More than enough to obliterate the planet and retreat into the safety of the ship once more. He followed Frieza up and through the hatch, hovering over it and facing the planet.

Though only allowed the chance to destroy entire planets on a few occasions, he made a point to remember what it felt like. The exact amount of energy he needed to build in his palms, how to adjust for the size and density of the planet. Back of one hand pressed to his palm, he shifted his arms back behind his head. Violet energy surged around his hands, his body, the draw and thrill of powering up familiar and welcome. Up and up he allowed his energy to rise until he deemed it the perfect amount to accomplish the task at hand. He shoved his hands outward once more and the stored cache of energy fired from his palms and through space, surging through the planet's atmosphere and striking the surface within seconds. The blast drilled through the landmass toward the core, wide cracks and fiery splotches already spreading from the point of contact.

With another beckoning from Frieza, Vegeta lingered a moment longer to watch the spectacle of magma shooting upward and his blast rending the planet in twain before following him back into the ship. The hatch closed and they returned to the navigation deck.

"Not bad, prince," Frieza drawled, scarlet gaze locked on the demolition out the window. "A bit messy, but unfortunately we don't have time to witness the entire fireworks show." A nod to the captain. "To our next destination."

The captain bowed and turned back to the controls. Before they swiveled around fully, Vegeta caught a glimpse of the planet's final moments: a series of explosions peppering the surface as its stability caved. Within moments, it would be nothing but space dust floating among the stars. A mere memory until it faded from it. Would any of its race survive? Would they hear the news of their home's destruction immediately, or only find empty blackness when they return? Would they, too, be plucked from whatever refuge allowed their survival to serve the Cold Empire? Told that a meteor destroyed their planet and they really had little other choice left as the empire still technically owned them?

His jaw tightened. He couldn't dwell on such things. None of it mattered. It never did. I never would.

#fic: recruited

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justlightlysedated · 4 years ago

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For the WIP ask meme: Can I ask about all of them? It’s just I am very curious and bad at choosing between things so I can’t pick one. If that is too much then talk about the one you want to talk about most. Or any you pick at random. I am literally interested in any and all of f them. I really love your writing ❤️

thank you very much!! i enjoy writing so much, esp for malex, and i wanted to talk about all of them tbh, so here you go, some plot plus a few sneak peeks!!

1. i knew from the start, you'd be the one to set me free:

--this one a teen malex fic where jesse doesn't catch them in the toolshed, and they're just smitten as hell and alex makes plans to follow michael to unm

--this one i wanted to write because i miss teen malex and they were so cute and so in love and i just wanted more of that

--here's a small sneak peek:

“See you tomorrow?” Michael asks, and Alex nods his head rapidly.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll call you later?”

“Definitely,” Michael says nodding, making a note to go put minutes on his phone before he goes to see Max.

Alex smiles, and Michael smiles back at him, and Michael isn’t entirely sure how long they stand there, just staring at each other, smiling, but they don’t move until another car passes by, this one quieter, but almost as loud.

“Alright,” Alex says, and takes a step backwards, towards the path that will lead him to his front door. “Bye.”

“Bye,” Michael replies and waves his hand, and Alex lifts his own hand to wave back, and then he just shakes his head and turns around, walking rapidly.

Michael watches him as he goes, and he can’t stop himself from leaning back against his truck and smiling, especially when Alex turns back, not once, or twice, but three times.

The last one right before he rounds the corner of the house that hides him from view.

Michael looks up at the sky, his smile getting wider, and he laughs a little, shaking his head, feeling like this is the beginning of something amazing, and he’s going to do everything in his power to keep it for as long as he can.

2. #nickyandjoepiningintheforest

--this one is for my 2kcelebrationfics, just yusuf and nicolo staring at each other and thinking sappy thoughts, in the forest by a campfire, as you do

--kayla asked me for anything to do with their sun and moon imagery, and two scenes popped into my head, the first one was yusuf looking at nicolo and the moon is perfectly positioned to look like he’s wearing a halo and just feeling too much, and then nicolo staring at yusuf as the rays of the sun start to caress his skin and pining quietly

--tiny sneak peek:

Their swords he can see are on the ground right by his feet, and Nicolo is concentrating on tying the feather fletching to his arrow with a thin leather cord.

His bow and quiver are lying down right by Yusuf’s outstretched hand, close enough that he’d be able to grab an arrow easily.

But he doesn’t, Yusuf relaxes even more in Nicolo’s presence, and turns a little, pressing his back harder against the tree as he leans his head fully on his arm and just stares.

It’s not often that he gets to look his fill of Nicolo, moments like these were often stolen and brief and few and far between, so he takes what he can, watching the way the fire throws shadows across his face, how he furrows his brow and purses his mouth in concentration.

He finishes fixing the arrow and sets it aside, eyes darting up to Yusuf.

Nicolo inhales sharply, seemingly surprised to find him awake, eyes widening just slightly, but he smiles immediately after, small and private and reaches out with one hand, before he stops himself, fingers clenching into a fist as he pulls his hand back.

“Go back to sleep,” he says voice low. “You’re safe now.”

3. may nothing but death do us part

--i’ve been dying to talk about this one tbh

--i just thought, what if michael and alex decided to get married right before the end of the world, and then to be even MORE dramatic, what IF they were dating other people and just break up with them and get married that same day

--basically, there is an imminent alien invasion coming, and the world is on the verge of intergalactic war, and michael realizes that he doesn’t want to die without ever having been alex’s husband, and he decides that he’s going to marry him, he just has to break up with his girlfriend first, and propose to alex, and then convince him to break up with his boyfriend, which he should do in that order, but he doesn’t exactly

4. feeling like a villain, got a hunger inside

--vampire au where michael is a vampire

--i have no excuse, i just thought, michael is a vampire who is trying to be good, but alex manes exists

--here’s a small sneak peek of this one:

Michael had been trying to be good, trying to pretend that he was satisfied with the vile, but tolerable mixture of whiskey and bagged blood, trying to be as normal as possible when he couldn’t exactly go out into the sunlight.

But it was hard to pretend when Alex was around, giving him still and thoughtful looks, like he knew there was something off about Michael, but he couldn't figure out what.

And it was only because Alex knew and Alex was willing or had been willing, once upon a time. There was nothing better in Michael’s opinion than to drink blood from someone who knew exactly what you were, and willingly put their life in your hands.

Alex figures it out when Maria puts the thick silver mug in front of Michael, pushing it over to him with a slight frown on her face. Michael swallows hard and smiles in thanks, but she’s already walking away.

They still haven’t talked since she found out the truth, but Michael can feel that she’s sort of warming up to him.

Michael looks at his mug of unappetizing blood, and slides it closer, making a face, wrinkling his nose when he feels how cold the mug is.

Michael picks it up and inhales deeply and then drinks.

He almost gags at the feel of the blood in his mouth, too thin, but at the same time too thick, almost stale tasting, only made palatable by the bite coming from the whiskey.

The whiskey makes him feel warm and tricks his mind into thinking that he’s had fresh blood, at least usually it does.

Tonight for some reason it seems like his stomach is rebelling.

Michael sets the mug down only having gotten through half of it, and he wipes his mouth before anyone can notice anything, the blood staining the back of his hand a bit red.

He swallows thickly and looks around the room to make sure that no one had noticed anything when his eyes catch Alex’s and he goes still.

Alex is looking at him like he not only knows exactly what his problem is, but also knows exactly how to fix it.

6. #theghostofchristmaspast

--the one where michael turns thirty and his twenty year old self, and forty year old self appear during a lab accident, and the one thing they both seem to have in common is the way they stare at alex manes

--three michaels and one alex sounds like the beginning of a pwp tbh

--here’s a small sneak peek:

Michael opens his eyes and his head feels like it's about to split open.

He groans as he sits up, and only knows that he's in the lab because the chair that he tries to use to help him stand up, rolls.

He manages to get to his feet eventually, and he looks around the dark room, and he vaguely remembers the lights exploding.

He groans, rubbing a hand through his hair.

Alex was going to kill him.

"What the fuck?" He hears a familiar, and yet completely unexpected voice that has him whirling around in shock.

He sees the speaker standing on the other side of the room, and there is just enough light that he can recognize the enormous brown hoodie he barely took off during the coldest nights when he was twenty.

Michael scoffs and rolls his eyes at him, “So that definitely wasn’t a drug induced nightmare then.”

“Nope,” another voice says from behind him, and Michael doesn’t have to turn around to know that there’s going to be another version of himself standing behind him, with a fuller beard and grey streaks in his hair.

“But you may want to lay off the acetone consumption, just a little.”

7. #shadowhuntersau

--where alex is a warlock and michael is a shadowhunter, and the year is 1885

--i’m actually also planning a second part to this where michael finds himself in 2018 after a portal accident, and alex is still in love with him

--i was actually working on this one for the remix fest, but then stuff and things happened, and i put it away, and then i reread it and was like, who wrote this????

--small sneak peek:

Michael stumbles back into the night table rattling the candle holder and making the flame flicker, and sputter out, plunging the room into darkness, the only light coming through the open window not doing much to brighten up the room.

But Alex doesn’t really pay attention to that as he stares at Michael letting the glamour fall from his eyes which allows him to see much better in the dark, and he can see the way that Michael's chest expands in his surprise.

Alex's eyes shine and unearthly blue, almost white, and he takes a step closer, and isn't really surprised when Michael flinches backwards, almost climbing up on the small night table.

Alex closes his eyes, pushing down the part of himself that is slightly disappointed, and he makes to move backwards, but before he can actually move however there are hands arresting his movements.

Alex’s eyes flutter open, and Michael is staring right at him, from too close to be considered anything short of intimate, eyes boring into Alex’s as he leans in closer.

He stops just shy of brushing Alex’s nose with his own, breaths hitching, eyes boring into Alex’s, something that seems to be childlike in wonder swirling in his eyes as he keeps looking at him.

Alex swallows hard, feeling like he’s frozen, and Michael moves his hands, fingers sliding across Alex’s cheeks, to brush lightly beneath his eyes.

Michael smiles, one corner of his mouth lifting higher than the other, and he breathes out, “Beautiful.”

8. the one where alex is a dreamer

--basically the only thing from trc that i took was the idea of dreamers

--an au where alex dreams up things that michael needs

--this one is for christi and christi only

--here’s a small sneak peek:

By the time the first semester is almost over, Michael Guerin is always lacking on school supplies. It's something that's become a constant to hear his voice hissing in the back of Calculus, asking to borrow a pencil.

Alex isn't very much surprised when he wakes up one morning and there is a shimmering pencil case sticking out from beneath his pillow.

Alex pushes it fully beneath the pillow and ignores it until he's getting his bag out of his closet to leave and debates whether or not to take it with him, but he already knows if he doesn't tomorrow night his subconscious won't be as subtle.

9. #projectfreelife

--this one is an au where alex gets hurt during his first tour, but instead of going to roswell, he’s recruited into project free life, a group whose main purpose is to integrate aliens into human society, he’s been working with them for a few years with his own team made up of, charlie, forrest, arizona, and steph, when they’re sent to roswell to deal with a black out they’re sure is alien in origin, since it’s the first time something that serious has happened since project shepherd was disbanded, their target, max evans

--small bonus: nora is most definitely integrated since caulfied was part of project shepherd and when it was disbanded it became a part of project free life, much to jesse’s chargrin

--small sneak peek:

"Okay," Charlie says, turning the laptop so that they both can look at it. "How do you want to do this?"

"Isobel is fully integrated, even married, and involved in various events in town," Alex starts. "So I think we should focus on Max and Michael."

Charlie nods her head along in agreement, so Alex continues hoping she agrees with that as well.

"You can take Michael and I'll-"

Charlie holds her hand up shaking her head, "No, I think I should take Max."

Her tone is serious, like she's thought this all out, and Alex frowns.

"Are you sure?" He asks, trying not to actually whine in protest.

She nods her head, "I know you went to highschool with them both, but I have a less conspicuous way to monitor him."

Alex raises an eyebrow in question.

"His partner," she says, voice tight with tension. "Jenna Cameron."

Alex gives her a look, "As in the sister you've been avoiding?"

Charlie just gives him a matching look back, "Yes. I think it's time for a little reunion, for both of us."

She presses a button, and the screen flashes to a picture that Alex has no idea how they got, of him and Michael, both holding guitars in their hands, Michael staring at Alex with a besotted expression.

"Fine," Alex says, pushing away from the bed. "We start first thing in the morning."

"Is he the reason why you haven't come back home?" Charlie asks, voice burning with curiosity, ignoring his obvious dismissal.

Alex just ignores her as he heads into the bathroom.

10. part one: the calm before the storm

--okay, i haven’t written anything but a few plot points for this one, but it’s an au where liz, kyle and alex all work for jesse (he blackmails liz by paying for her education after her scholarship falls through) as monitors integrated in the life of three suspected aliens, meaning that alex and michael are together, but they’re not living together, max and liz do live together and are engaged, and kyle and isobel are married

--think of an orphan black like situation, but with aliens instead of clones

11. #kinginwaitingmichael

--where michael is the king in waiting, but goes into a witness protection program after an assassination attempt, and he ends up falling in love with alex, who doesn’t realize that he is the king to be, until he foils another assassination attempt

--small sneak peek:

Isobel knows that they’re in trouble the first time that she sees Michael smiling at Alex.

Ever since they'd turn twelve and started their lessons on etiquette and how to act in public and with their subjects in a way that doesn't show preferences, Michael's smiles, while not unkind or fake, have always been brief or heavily sarcastic.

Michael smiles at Alex with his whole body, swaying towards him like he can't help himself, lips stretched too wide, showing all of his teeth, eyes sparkling and light..

And the most terrifying part for Isobel is that Alex doesn't act surprised or like the smile is something new.

He just blushes, a pink flush that works its way across his cheeks and down to his neck, and he smiles back at Michael, something sweet and vibrant, and places his hand over Michael's resting across the back of the booth they're sharing.

They keep talking, but mostly just stare at each other, almost like they're caught in their own little bubble, not paying attention to their surroundings or even the fact that they aren't alone.

Isobel tries to catch Michael's attention, but fails, so she reaches out with one hand, and tips over the half empty milkshake they'd been sharing.

The liquid spreads across the table and drips down the edge, landing on Alex's lap.

Alex jumps, and turns to look at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Sorry," Isobel says without much sincerity, munching on the fry that she'd stolen from Michael's plate.

Alex just rolls his eyes and leans in to press a kiss to Michael's cheek.

Michael, who had been glaring at Isobel, turns a totally besotted look to Alex, all big lovesick eyes and wide grin.

"Be right back," Alex says as he slips out of the bench and away from Michael's grabby hands.

Isobel waits exactly five seconds, staring at Michael watching Alex walk away, and then she kicks him hard in the shin.

12. runaway until the last time, we're gonna lose forever

--well everyone knows this one is my sort of doctor who au that i’m writing for tove

--i just love space and time travel and malex, and just put all of that into a blender and this is what came out

--here’s a small sneak peek:

Maria takes a second to calculate in all of the ways that this Alex looks different than the one she had last seen on a cruise spaceship, and she sways, feeling lightheaded.

Alex steps forward immediately, and helps her sit back down.

“Hey, are you okay?” he starts asking. “What happened? Are you here by yourself-?”

He stops speaking as the ship’s alarm sounds, the soft purple light filling the room again.

“Emergency Protocol One, Revision Eighteen has been activated.”

Maria sees how the words affect Alex. His concerned and open expression closing down immediately, as he turns towards the console, pressing a few buttons and turning the alarm off, before he pulls up the ships video log, which Maria didn’t know existed, and she sees in reverse everything that happened.

Alex freezes the frame on Michael’s face right before he’s teleported away.

He frowns a little, and turns to Maria, “How long has it been for you? Since the Atlantis Cruise, I mean.”

Maria can see that he means the time that she’s marked in her calendar, which surprises her enough that she actually answers.

“Almost five months.”

Alex nods his head once, and then he turns back towards the console.

“Okay,” he says. “So I can trace back the signal that they used to get him, which could always lead to a dead end, but it’s early enough that they wouldn’t have moved him far. If these people are smart, they would create some type of temporal rift so that the COSMIC won’t be able to actually land at the same time that they took him. And if they know anything about him, about me, well, I’m sure they’re prepared to face an army. You know what that means?”

He says, turning to Maria who has been staring at him unblinkingly the entire time that he spoke.

“That it’s time that you meet your replacements,” he’s grinning as he says it, which takes the sting out of the words, and there is something about his eyes, that Maria can’t quite put her finger on. Something about the way that he looks at her, like to him she’s been gone for a really long time, something fond and nostalgic.

Which is kind of scary given the fact that he doesn’t look any older than thirty-five.

“You mean, the other traveling assistants?”

Alex's smile turns soft and fond, “Exactly.”

13. of guitars and hauntings

--this one is an au where michael moves into the old manes manor, that is ridiculously cheap because of rumors that it’s haunted, which turn out to be true when he gets woken up during the middle of the night by the sounds of a guitar being played in the attic, and that’s how he meets alex, who turns out to be perfect for him in every single way, except for the fact that he’s been dead for over fifty years

14. late dawns and early sunsets

--a zombie apocalypse au set to the song, early sunsets over monroeville by mcr, so v v angsty, without a happy ending, but that is par the course for zombie aus tbh

#malexsneakpeeks #this turned out into almost a full fic length #i have more written to some of these than i originally thought tbh

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araedi · 4 years ago

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[Starter for @obsessionsarenotforheroes ]

As far as nights in ever-chaotic New York could go, it was a relatively peaceful one at least. Not that Thor held much manner for comparison, busy side alleys and late-night stores always teetering just on the edge of overwhelming. Asgard, for all its scope and grandeur, did not ascribe to the same sense of round-the-clock activity. At most there were late-night revels in the mead halls or small groups on night-time walks, but by and large the city itself was quiet once the moon had risen.

New York’s energy still proved something of a novelty even after all of these years and Thor could no longer resist the call. The last few days had been mercifully absent of any serious activity and his restless soul had ached for distraction. At last freed of any duties to the Avengers for a day or two he had taken himself off into the city to explore it, for once, without a guide. His friends were always eager to show him the best of the city but tonight he was keen to walk his own path.

Between neon-lit signs, the fresh fragrance of coffee and the cool night air Thor was more than delighted to live his role as something of an intergalactic tourist. There was a wealth to see and do in such a small space – and although his ego was sizeable his time as a mortal had tempered it enough that he was comfortable with his own ignorance. This time, he was here to learn.

With no set destination in mind the æsir had taken a meandering stroll through boroughs and districts, distance little issue for a man of Asgard. He spent a pleasant evening eating and drinking and chatting amiably with the fascinating Midgardians who made up the city, and although Midgardian liquor held little effect on his disposition it was still enough to dull some sense. By the time he had realised he’d wandered into quieter areas it was beyond his caring. The night was still young and there was always likely to be something happening. He had heard of music venues and comedy clubs – perhaps with more investigation he could find one of these nearby.

The opportunity never arose. In passing one unremarkable bar (Thor was, much like a moth, currently drawn to the flashier establishments), there came the unmistakable crunch of shattering glass. A moment later and there was a body at his feet.

Right.

Peace had been nice while it lasted but Thor was never one able to leave a confrontation – whether that be to come to aid or simply let off steam. His curiosity was suitably piqued, but his ire had not been roused enough that he was tempted to bull straight in without some context. Instead he deigned to head inside as though nothing had spilled out onto the street, pushing open the door with little hesitation. No sooner had he done so, a glass shattered against his arm.

“Is this a bad time?”

#obsessionsarenotforheroes #hope this works!#lmk if you'd like anything edited ^^#let's queue get help

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kashimos-hajime · 5 years ago

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immeasurable firsts | s.r.

Summary: All your firsts with Steve Rogers and all the heartbreak and happiness that comes with it.

A/N: For the writing challenge hosted by the fabulous @imhereforbvcky and the wonderful @justsomebucky.

Dedicating this to @wxntersoldiers because I still have to write for her and I hope this’ll make up for how late I’m gonna submit it in! (I’ll get to it soon!!!!)

WARNINGS: Swearing, blood, violence, death, extreme angst but some happy stuff too.

Word Count: 11.6k Pairing: Steve Rogers x Stark-sister! Reader Prompt: The most ridiculous part of this whole situation is that I love you.

Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Four easy words to describe Tony Stark.

You, on the other hand. Genius, billionaire, philanthropist all fit. Playboy? Perhaps. You prefer socialite. The paparazzi has always had their bite at you but that doesn’t mean that none of it is true.

You are Y/N Stark, younger sister of one Anthony Edward Stark, one certified pain in the ass, and one big brother. He was basically everything you had ever since your parents died. He raised you. He was your dad, and mom, and brother all at once, and you know that no one could’ve done it better. From what you know and what Tony tells you about your dad, you’re better off.

But your mom… you miss her every day.

On a full-ride to MIT just like him, you succeeded him in every way, graduating summa cum laude just like him, but while he did it when he was seventeen, you did it when you were eighteen. He always held that fact over you, but not after you mentioned that while he hacked into the Pentagon for a dare, you hacked into the Harry S. Truman building for fun. State department had a field day with that one.

As Stark Industries head of Research and Development, you occupy all of four floors and helped more than 12% to make Stark Towers the first building powered by self-sustainable clean energy, but you’d let your brother take all that credit if it meant your brother gets some with Pepper.

“Ma’am, Agent Coulson is on the line. Mr. Stark deferred him to you.” Swiping the holoscreen to close it, you look up from where you’re working on new schematics for your suit.

“Tony’s in.”

“Mr. Stark insists on refusing the call, and Agent Coulson insists on seeing him.”

Rolling your eyes, you pull up another holoscreen that linked you to the surveillance feed. Switching through the cameras, you swipe for Tony’s private elevator. You spot the agent standing outside the elevator, texting away on his phone and you turn on your mic with a smile.

“Hey, Phil,” you greet and the agent looked up, turning to the camera.

“Ms. Stark.” He gives you a little wave and you straighten up, putting your stylus away and turning off your tablet. Moving the surveillance feed to your phone, you walk to the couch you had in your office, sitting down and pulling your laptop on with you. Opening it up, you log in. “If you could ask your brother to pick up the phone, that’d be a great help.”

“You know Tony doesn’t listen to me.” Opening up the files Tony had sent you earlier, blueprints for Stark Tower and the grocery list for next week, you roll your eyes at the note at the end. ‘Pep said it’s my turn to do nothing for a whole week,’ it reads. Your fingers work away on your keyboard as you return your attention to Phil. “I’m going to disable J.A.R.V.I.S.’s protocols and give random people access to his private elevator because he’s annoyed me just now. You do whatever you want with that information.”

“Thank you. And you might need to join me, Ms. Stark.”

“Is it something important? Because my consulting hours don’t normally run this long. Also, I thought I said I didn’t want anymore S.H.I.E.L.D. assignments.” Tapping away on your keyboard, you have the elevator doors open and bypass the A.I.’s protocols.

“It’s urgent.”

“When do I ever care about that?” you retort. The call ends and you get up anyway, glaring at your phone. With a heavy sigh, you slip the device into your pocket before looking at the few holo screens you have open around the office. The levels of the reactor are stable, and you watch as they fluctuated, readjusting every once in a while.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., shut the place down. After I go see Tony, I’m heading home.”

“Of course, Ms. Stark.”

You live essentially next door to the tower, and it isn’t important for you to bring anything home, so you grab your keys and purse before leaving your office of glass doors and walls and windows. The lights turn off behind you as you jab the elevator button, ready to head up to say goodnight to Tony and see what Phil Coulson thought was so urgent.

The Avengers Initiative.

And they thought Tony was a good fit?

“Volatile, self-obsessed, don’t play well with others,” you recite as you read over the files in Tony’s penthouse on the top floor of Stark Towers. “If he wanted the better of the Starks, he would’ve chosen me,” you tease. Tony sighs, wiping a hand over his face and you frown. Sigh in that tone means frustration, exhaustion, and he’s feeling overwhelmed.

“What is it?” Looking to see what’s caught your brother’s attention, you swallow and get up, walking around the couch to touch the hologram of the thing that your father had found instead of a man. “The Tesseract,” you whisper, suddenly finding your mouth very dry. Blinking, you twist the hologram around before pulling back. Your father had been obsessed with the thing. Hell, he probably loved it more than he ever loved the two of you. Your brother’s pulled back, too, arms crossed as his dark gaze flickers over the other portfolios.

“Some crack team, huh,” he mutters but your eyes can’t tear away from the blue glowing cube. Your dad always talked about it — well, it and Captain America, who happened to be in one of the portfolios, but you can’t help the nagging feeling that the cube is better left in the ocean where no one can find it. After all, they wouldn’t have to drag your brother into this mess if it was.

“Tony,” you call out when your brother moves for the bar. He pulls up a bottle of scotch and silently asks if you want a drink. Shaking your head, you bite your lip and gather what nerves you have left to ask the question. “Should I be worried?”

There is no answer.

“Hey, how was it?” you ask when Tony returns to the Helicarrier. The suit decompresses and you smirk, arching a brow. “Get the bad guy?”

“Yeah, and a plus one. Oh, uh—” Tony turns to the other guys piling out of the Quinjet. The clanging of chains catch your attention as S.H.I.E.L.D. agents swarm the jet, escorting the prisoner out. Loki, you realize. Following him is a tall blond and an even taller blond, though the taller one follows after Loki. Thor. Had to be. Your brother gestures to the two— “the rest of the crack team. You talk to Banner, yet?”

“Not yet. They told me he was down in the lab, but I was working on my suit. I’ve a new set of schematics I wanna try out, if you have the time.”

“You only made a suit to copy me,” he teases and you nudge him playfully. “Yeah, sure. If we have time, after the world finishes it’s self-destruction, or whatever, we should take it out for a spin.”

“Thanks, Ant.” He sighs at the nickname but you squeeze his arm, watching him go. He needs to get that suit off, and you need to get that decryption implant on the motherboard. If Tony’s going into this, he isn’t going into it blind. Anyone who’s working with the Tesseract, especially an organization like S.H.I.E.L.D., wouldn’t use this for clean energy. And you’ve worked missions with them before. You know that eco-friendly energy is the last thing on their mind. Howard Stark may have wanted it for clean energy, but if an intergalactic war is being had…

You put a pin on that train of your thought as your gaze drifted back to the armory. The shorter blond nodded to you with a smile, and you put on a fresh face for Steve Rogers, World War Two Hero, actual soldier-type with a cute smile. Tilting your head, you walk up to him and stick out a hand. In your heels, you could’ve tried to be as tall as him but his presence adds two inches to his height.

“Captain Rogers, honor to meet you.”

“Steve,” he amends as he quirks an eyebrow. “And you are? Sorry, it’s been a whirlwind couple of days.”

“Y/N Stark,” you say, shaking his hand. He’s warm and his blue eyes fix on yours as you take in his features. He’s even cuter up close. “And no problem. Not everyone can spend their time as a Capsicle.”

“Your brother made the same joke,” Steve says as you begin to walk down the hall with him.

“He only got the chance because he met you first.” Heading down to the briefing room, you glance at him to find him staring back. Arching an eyebrow, you wait until he notices and a brilliant blush spreads across his cheeks, but you smirk, brushing the hair away from your face and leading him to the room where your brother is waiting.

After the Battle of New York — that’s what the news is calling it, you call it an inconvenience — the dust settled to reveal the true damage of it. There’s a lot of rebuilding to do, specifically the area around Stark Tower, which means a lot of money is needed to repair downtown New York. Of course, the best way to get the rich to donate money is a charity ball, and the fact that it’s able to be doubled as a celebration ball makes Tony absolutely gleeful. You, on the other hand, would rather be anywhere but here. The destruction caused in Stark Tower has given you nothing but a headache and whilst Tony and the Avengers had gone for shawarma, you’d suited up to begin lifting the rubble and seeing the true damage underneath the whole ‘saving the planet’. Which you can respect, by the way, but you didn’t want to test out the new suit by lifting up heavy concrete and wires.

Now, all you want to do head back, take an Advil, and sleep the day off. Whilst the Avengers had decided to steal the show, you never said a thing about how Tony literally flew into a fucking wormhole.

You still need to yell at him for that one. Maybe cry. And hug him. For a long time.

“You need to relax,” Tony mumble through his smile as the three of you gathered your bearings to get out of the limousine.

“You need to stop making us late,” you retort. “And wormhole, remember? You’re still in for it.”

He sends you a sheepish smile, his eyes pleading apology, but you ignore it, stepping out. Pepper holds onto Tony’s arm to get out, whilst you pick up the edges of your dress, a brilliant scarlet dress, with a slit up the side of your leg and elegantly pull yourself up.

Adjusting the gold cuff on your wrist, you grab your gold clutch and shade your eyes against the flashes. Tony and Pep are already walking through the paparazzi, up the stairs to the venue for the Avengers, the cameras snapping away. Used to it, you tuck your hair behind your ear to showcase your outfit. In scarlet and gold, you shine under the flashes.

“Ms. Stark!” one of the photographers call out and you pause, striking a small pose before continuing on. The tire screeches behind you signify another arrival and you turn with a small smile, wondering who it could be. The black car’s window slide down, revealing a star-struck Steve Rogers and he steps out, squinting against the flashing lights. Raising a hand in half a wave and half a means to block the light, the super-soldier’s gaze dart across the scene before landing on you. You extend your hand to him, smiling. He speed-walks over to you, grateful for a friendly face and he offers an arm for you to take, escorting you inside.

“I’m glad you got out safe,” you begin, tucking a curl behind you ear as he focuses on getting up to the stairs. You throw a wave to the crowd, before adding, “I was maybe a tiny bit worried about you. More so about Tony, but then I wonder why.” You pretend to tap your chin in curiosity and he chuckles.

“I’m flattered. And you’re beautiful,” he mumbles under his breath, cheeks red but you can’t tell if it’s because of you or the cameras. Smiling softly, you press your head against his shoulder for a moment before lifting it again to look at the soldier. “I dunno if anyone’s told you that yet.”

“No one that matters,” you tell him and you pause to kiss his cheek. His shy smile makes you smile wider, the endearing expression on his face causing warmth to spread through you. Cameras take snapshots of your moment and you internally sigh. There comes one of the cons of being a public figure. You have no doubt some stupid hashtag like #Rogerstark or, you don’t know, #Ironcaptain, will be trending on twitter by the night’s end. “And you look good, too. Real good.”

“Uh,” he chuckles, blushing and you laugh. “Thanks.”

“Overwhelmed, yet?” You climb the steps, using Steve’s hand to steady yourself before he opens the door for you. You hold his hand to bring him in and the pap calls after the two of you even when the door closes. If he’s gonna give the press content, you might as well have fun with it. Even if he doesn’t mean too — he’s just being the gentleman he is.

“A bit, yeah, but not by the cameras.”

You chew on the inside of your lip. You don’t know if you’re insulted or not. “By me?”

“In the best way. Gotta impress the most gorgeous woman in the room,” he promises and you hold him to that promise. “I’m sure the cameras will get worse, too. But you seem to be doing just fine,” he says and you chuckle. Patting his arm, you lead him, following the signs that say This Way or something of the variant.

“I grew up going to this kinda stuff. I’m used to it by now. But if you keep being you, the press is gonna eat you up.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’re a real gentleman, Rogers,” you sing. The foyer is filled with tons of guests, some drinking while others are eating some nuts or chips, and there’s an open door leading to the white carpet. Of course, they’re waiting for all the Avengers to go on first, and you can hear the anxious muttering of the paparazzi outside the room.

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

“Well, people like prying into other people’s lives,” you continue and he nods. His gaze darts across the room just as a server comes by with a tray of champagne. Disentangling your arm from Steve’s, you take two. “Steve, I’m just saying, the paps love to make speculations about Tony and I. Sometimes, it’s the only thing keeping them open, and a lot of people don’t like the attention, the stalkers, the fans.” Offering the champagne, you give him a forced smile. “A lot of people don’t wanna stay because of it.”

“What if I want to?”

“What?” You nearly let out a laugh but Steve looks totally serious as his gaze catches yours. They’re darker, more intense, but there’s still that sense of light to him. Like he’s having fun getting the shock out of you.

“I said, what if I wanted to stay? I’m an Avenger now. Might as well get used to it and I think we’re stuck with each other.”

You drain your champagne, blink, and then stare at him as if he’s grown a second head. “I have no illusions on being a celebrity, Y/N. I’ve had a few experiences of my own, and it may be a bit different from back then, but I know.”

“It’s a lot different, Steve.”

“Maybe not so much.” He takes your hand and the champagne, leading you to the side of the room where there are small high tables where people can stand and chat over food, and he places his full flute and your empty one on the tablecloth. “Y/N, I’m just saying, let the press eat it up. We know what we are.”

And what’s that? you wonder helplessly as he says that they should get to the carpet. Tony and Pepper have already started, and Steve visibly recoils. Looping your arm through his, you send him a reassuring smirk, if possible.

“You might have to squint, Cap,” you whisper nefariously and he sends you a roll of his eyes as you put on your celebrity face. It hides your inner turmoil well as you kill over Steve’s words. With the most handsome man in the room on your arm, you send smolder and smolder whilst the soldier tries to ease into his smiles. It’s easier once you get him laughing at your jokes, and it’s hard to imagine you’d ever dreaded going to the event at all.

To say you and Steve see each other over the next few years would be an understatement. Seeing as how you are in Washington occasionally, flying back and forth for work, the Triskelion is one of the few places you’d actually get excited to see once in a while. You’re actually in Washington when Steve’s called away on a mission. Sitwell’s called you in for an emergency consult. Well, he called Tony. You picked up the call. And what you came to was Nick Fury’s deathbed.

The image makes you shudder.

Suiting up, you propel yourself out of your Washington flat and fly towards the Triskelion. At night, Washington looks like any other city, breathtaking and alight with life. The Washington Monument’s glow casts its base in warm light as you fly over it, slowing down to admire your view and postpone going to the Triskelion. Ever since Steve knocked out the S.T.R.I.K.E. team in the elevator, you’ve been feeling like there had to be a reason.

Your reflection in the water is barely visible except for the glow of your repulsors, eyes, and arc reactor, and you float above it, the squirming feeling in your stomach ever growing.

Why do you have the feeling just like the one before the Battle of New York?

A number you don’t recognize calls you, but you pick up anyway, having A.N.A encrypt your location just in case as you fight off the feeling. Tony’s safe in New York — as safe as he can be fixing up the quarters for the Avengers who still drop by from time to time. Just one night of consultation, and then you’re back there with him, eating microwave dinners and working on new things.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Steve? Where are you?” Shaking yourself, you continue on your way to the Triskelion just as his voice echoes in your ears again.

“Sam’s. And you need to listen to me.”

“Are you okay?” you ask despite yourself. You haven’t seen him since the hospital, and if you’re honest with yourself, you kinda miss him. Plus, he wasn’t looking too great when you’d left.

You hold his hand, stepping closer as he stares at Natasha’s back. The red-haired woman’s head is bowed to hide her tears and you look to Steve. His eyes stare back at you but he doesn’t truly see you as you wrap your other hand around his arm, resting your head against his shoulder. He squeezes your hand tighter. You simply close your eyes and press your cheek against his jacket as your fingers interlace. He looks down, and you raise your head to see what he’s looking at.

A silver USB lies in his hand and your eyebrows knit together when you look at the make. S.H.I.E.L.D. made. When he catches you staring, however, he shoves it back into your pocket. A silent question that he ignores lays within your eyes.

“I didn’t want to leave the hospital so soon, but consultation couldn’t wait on the pumping problem,” you continue, diving into the water surrounding the building as your suit readjusts the air pressure and you turn on your headlamps. The water before you filters out the moon as you dive deeper.

“It’s fine. I just wanted to check up with you.”

“Why? ‘Cause I’m heading underwater and the slightest malfunction of the suit could kill me?” you ask, initiating the lights in your repulsors. Steve lets out a sigh of a laugh quietly on the other end as you squint, making out the shape of the pipelines.

“You made that suit, Y/N. I know it won’t,” he replies, but he sounds tense and you make yourself redirect the conversation. Your HUD emits a gentle light as it does a preliminary scan on the pipelines.

“Thanks, Steve. So… where are you now? I mean, now that you’re on the run.”

“That’s what I’ve got to talk to you about.”

Pulling up, you frown. No leaks and the Stark Industry sustainable filter is running flawlessly. You’d installed it yourself, along with the other convertors along the lines. Turning off your mic, you raise your arm.

“A.N.A., can you run a scan? Sitwell said it was in this area, and I’m not sure if I’m being delusional.”

“Of course, Ms. Stark.” The repulsor gauntlet shoots out a grid of blue light, a bar of blue scanning the pipes as you work your way down the whole area. Resuming your call with Steve, you clear your throat.

“Sorry, Steve, what is it? Is it about why you gave Rumlow the black eye he deserves?” you joke.

“Y/N, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been compromised.” Your heart stops. Maybe you are delusional.

“What?”

“Whatever you do, don’t take another assignment from them. You need to leave D.C. now.”

“Steve, I—”

“There is an unknown object approaching your vector.” A.N.A.’s warning interrupts whatever you were going to say, and kick starts your wired brain. You twist around, all sources of light shutting off at once with a quiet whir. Letting yourself sink, you steady your breathing and turn on your night vision just as something explodes right next to you. It sends you tumbling, your head rattling in your suit as you spin in the water, trying to regain your sense of up and down.

“A.N.A., find the source!” Managing to stabilize yourself to a stop, you shake your head. Something’s trickling down your temple, and there’s a familiar ache in your arm that was closest to the blast. You still can’t hear well aside from the ringing and you strain to hear.

“Already on it.”

Y/N, what’s going on?” Steve asks but his voice crackles over the line and you wince, trying to ignore how grating it is on your ears as blue shapes are highlighted on your HUD. Submarines by the looks of it. S.H.I.E.L.D. warships armed with missiles, mines, and torpedos.

Fuck, really? In the Potomac? You have no time for questions like that, though, and with every second you waste sinking to the bottom, it’s another second feeling like the water’s going to seep into your suit and asphyxiate you. Another missile launches towards you and you swerve out of the way, letting it land in the riverbed.

“I was in Washington for a consultation on the Triskelion’s pump system,” you whisper. “Fucking great that they’re compromised now, huh?”

“Engaging boosters.” Your ankles lock together, you press your hands against your sides and look up as you propel yourself to the surface. You’re a great white beacon of light and heat now that you’ve given up all hope of defeating war subs in your mechanic armor. “Missiles fired. They’ve tracked your infrared signature, ma’am.”

“Y/N?” Steve’s voice cracks the comms again as moonbeams begin to break through. “What’s going?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. subs are on me. Five. Shit!” A missile strikes your foot and you let out a yelp as the booster fails. Veering off, you try to get back on course. “Targeting system. They know all the weak points of this suit. Fuck! My booster’s down.” Swerving out of the way of another swarm of missiles, you run diagnostics on your failed repulsor node just as A.N.A. gives out another warning that another barrage is incoming. Your heart beats in your throat, blood dripping over and down your neck, and you try to unscramble your thoughts. S.H.I.E.L.D. is attacking you. S.H.I.E.L.D. is attacking you. Holy shit.

Tony’s going to be so pissed.

“Can you fire back?”

“It’s my repair suit. It’s not meant for battle. I didn’t think I’d get attacked by fucking S.H.I.E.L.D.!” The second barrage nearly gets you and you let out a breath of relief when they all whiz past, only for a bigger cruise missile to slam into your side. Infrared tech on a cruise missile with diamond nibs. These are war-grade, way above anyone’s pay-grade and slice through your suit like it’s soft cheese. It digs into you and you let out a terrified gasp.

It’s a small explosion, granted, but it no doubt shatters your ribs and blows something apart inside you. Ears ringing, you scream over the sound of A.N.A. giving you a status report on the suit, but over your own hoarse voice, you know that water’s surging into your suit, your ribs are shattered, and you’re probably going to die. A.N.A. quarantines the water, sealing you from the neck up as you frantically touch your wound. Your A.I. has already dispatched the emergency lock, your second skin of armor spanning over your abdomen and binding your insides together.

“Injuries?”

“Shattered ribs, multiple third-degree burns and massive internal damage.”

“Communications?” you wheeze, trying to breathe but your lungs struggle against the ribs that float around in your chest cavity as you clutch at the wound. A.N.A. had been as fast as she could, closing over the wound as soon as she detected it, but dirty, freezing river water still got in. It laps at your wounds, soothing the burns and washing through your insides simultaneously. Melting from the inside out, you suck in your scream and blink, trying to ignore the tears streaming down your face as you pray for the adrenaline to kick in.

“Offline. They’ve scrambled the frequency.”

“Unscramble it! We need to tell Steve he needs to get out of here and tell Tony what’s happening. I’ll focus on the staying alive part.” Although sobs tear at your throat and blackness dots your vision from the pain, you squint through your tears to look at the HUD. A list of systems that are offline continue to scroll down the side as the water begins to pick up, pulling and pushing you in all directions.

“Y-Y-Y/N? Can you read me? Hey!”

“Still alive, yet, Cap,” you manage to say, redirecting all energy to your one working foot. “Come on, come on.” Every movement is sending agony rushing down to your chest and it’s like the water pressure presses down into your chest. Even breathing is getting difficult as a knot forms between your lungs. Heaving for air, you begin to speed up to the surface. Water streams down the sides, bubbles popping and foam disappearing before your eyes. Suddenly, beeping begins out of left-field.

“They’re sending more cruise missiles, ma’am. Without your other repulsor node, you won’t be able to outfly them.”

“But I’m so fucking close!”

“It won’t matter, Ms. Stark. They’ve locked into your heat signature and this suit does not have the capability to lower or mask your in-suit heat output.” A.N.A.’s words make you blink and you let out a desperate sigh, your breathing coming ragged as the water closes in on you. Your vision blurs, and for a moment, your head dips forward before you snap open your eyes. “I’m sorry, Ms. Stark.” Your A.I. sounds so fucking crushed and she’s already grieving and you regret coding in emotions because you want to cry, and not because of the pain.

“It’s not your fault, A.N.A.”

Blinking, you try to calm yourself down but it’s all coming so close. Your helmet can’t protect you for long, you’re going to die, you’re going to die, you’re going to die—

“You’ll send a message to Tony? The message?” you ask and the world stops. The startling realization that you might truly die here in the Potomac slams into you and you nearly let out a scream at how fucking unfair it is. Ribbons of tears track down your face, and you compress yourself into a compact slip of armor, hoping it’ll give you that chance to outrun it, but you know that it won’t. You graduated from MIT, just like Tony. Your big brother Tony. You know the math. The beeping gets louder, gets faster.

A watery smile appears on your face, your lips trembling as it crumbles away and you openly sob. Your face is hot and you breathe in hot air, and you need to breathe. Oh, god, you’re gonna die of asphyxiation before you die of your injuries and everything’s closing in on you—

“Of course, Ms. Stark.” You take comfort in A.N.A.s voice and confirmation, trying to pull what’s left of you together. “Thank you.” It’s just within reach, but the beeping in your ears tells you the missiles are closer. They’re hot on your trail and your faulty booster has no intention of coming back soon. Remembering your call, you swallow whatever tears you have left and ignore the ache in your throat. Everything hurts, but nothing so much as the pain one can get from knowing what they’re leaving behind. “Steve?”

Crackling, and then a thick voice comes on and you know he’s crying too, “I’m here.”

Your eyes reflect the moon’s beams, and you can only see that beautiful full moon surrounded by so much darkness, and you wonder if this is what Tony saw up in that wormhole. The light at the end of a tunnel. You swallow, nod, and tell yourself that you can’t feel the pain anymore. The adrenaline in my body’s numbing it, you reason to yourself. I’ll die from my injuries before I can get to a hospital, so there’s no point in feeling it. The beeping becomes insistent, but you don’t look back. If you don’t look back, maybe they aren’t there.

“Ms. Stark…”

“It’s okay, A.N.A. You did your best.” Clenching your jaw, you try to make sure your next words can be made out. They need to count, you need him to hear you loud and clear, and he seems to sense this because he begins to whisper these nothings meant to make you feel better, or to stall you. You hope it’s to make to feel better.

Because it works.

“Steve, when I die, tell Tony that… that I love him, and he deserves so many things in this world. Tell him, tell him he is the best brother I could’ve asked for, and—“

“Hey, Y/N. You’re gonna outfly those rockets. You’re the best damn pilot I know. So, stop talking like you’re gonna die.”

“Steve—“

“Y/N, it’s gonna be okay. It’ll be okay, doll, you’re gonna be just fine, and then you’ll come over to Sam’s, and we’ll be on the run together.” Steve’s voice cracks and it damn well near breaks you as the A.N.A. goes radio silent. The HUD turns off. She’s conserving energy. That can only mean one thing. “Won’t that be fun? Huh? We’ll be… what was it that was trending after the 2012 gala? That hashtag…”

You let out a noise that’s somewhere between a sob and a laugh as your eyes close. “#Ironcaptain and #Starogers were both trending,” you remind him. His voice is soft and hoarse, and exactly how you imagined him in the mornings. You’ll never get to fucking see him again. Fuck. Life. Fuck. You.

“That’s right, doll. You’re right. You’re so beautiful and smart. You’re tough as, uh, iron, and you’re always right.”

“Dork.”

“Yeah, I’m your dork, though. So, you’ve gotta make it. You’re perfect. That’s why you’ll make it, okay?” He’s in so much denial it pains you to the core and all you want to do is grab him in a hug and tell him that you’re going to die but it’ll be okay. But he’s on the other side of the city and he can’t save you this time. “That’s why I’m gonna see you again, and I’m gonna tell you so many things. So you’ve got to stay alive, alright? ‘Cause I needa tell you all about Camp Lehigh and Bucky and you’re supposed to be here with me ‘cause you’re one of my best friends and I need you, okay? It’s been like that since the beginning, Y/N. Before everything, before that gala, before we were friends. I was always the puppy trailing after you. So you can’t die.”

“Steve,” you choke out as you open your eyes again. You reach your uninjured arm for the surface. Your fingers are barely brushing the air and you can imagine the wind on your face. You might make it. “Steve, I’m scared to die.”

“You’re not gonna die, so there’s nothing to be scared of,” he tells you like it's a fact and not something that’s stopping you from turning off every repulsor node you have left. You’re so tired but your arm breaks free, and then your suit and then you’re soaring through the sky.

Flying through the air, you hear the whistle of wind and missile trail after you. You made it to the surface and for what? Here you’ll be, shot down like game anyway. Is that all live is? A game of hope and lies and deceit, just for some god out there?

If it is, when you die, you’ll tell them that you were never playing. You’ll tell whatever god who’s watching to go fuck themselves. Find someone else to play with.

“Steve,” you whisper, because you need to say it as many times as you can before you can’t anymore. “Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve.”

“I’m here. I’m right here waiting for you.”

You laugh into your next words, cheeks soaking with tears as you raise your eyes to the moon. “I’m glad that it’s you.”

The missiles dig into your armor — legs, chest, arms in that order — and explode. You are a dying star, the last brilliant flash of light and beauty and the magnificence of the universe before you are extinguished.

On the other side of Washington, Steve watches the orange cloud of fire and smoke consume the air around it hungrily as a lone figure drops into the water.

“Zola’s algorithm… is a program for choosing I.N.S.I.G.H.T.’s targets.”

“What targets?”

“You! A TV anchor in Cairo, the Undersecretary of Defense, a high school valedictorian in Iowa city.” Sitwell swallows visibly and Steve’s nails dig into his palms as he stares at the pathetic man. “Bruce Banner, Stephen Strange, anyone who's a threat to HYDRA! Now, or in the future. It’s why we killed Y/N Stark.” Blood drips down Steve’s fingers as he grabs Sitwell’s collar, hauling him to his feet.

“What did you say?”

“We… it was a confirmed hit.” Sitwell’s confession rings in Steve’s ears and he lifts him up higher, wanting him to choke.

“You say her name one more time, no one’s gonna stop you when you’re thrown off the building.” He lets the man drop to a pile on the ground. The blood from his palms mark where he’d grabbed the traitor and Steve resists the urge to kick him. Instead, he asks how Zola’s algorithm can predict the future whilst thinking of every way imaginable on how he can destroy H.Y.D.R.A., one agent at a time.

“Y/N wouldn’t want some priest,” Steve says, playing with Sam’s cellphone. He’d given it to him after what happened in Washington, but Steve’s never grabbed the strength to play the voicemail sent to the number not long after your last call together. The anger he had has sapped away until all that’s left is the space you used to fill with your laugh and smile. He never even got to tell you how he felt about you— “Maybe something quiet. Her stuff burned, something like that.”

“How the hell would you know what she wanted?” Tony whispers. His rage is simmering so close to the surface, so close to his breaking point, that Steve looks up. They’re gathered in the Avengers Tower, all of them for once, and Tony slams his hand on the table, head bowed.

“Tony,” Bruce begins but he ignores him, pushing off the table and walking back towards the window of the penthouse, staring off to the skyline. “I’m sorry. You couldn’t have stopped it.”

“I could’ve. I could’ve told her not to go.”

“You couldn’t have known S.H.I.E.L.D. was compromised,” Natasha adds, although her eyes are red rimmed and there’s something croaky in her voice. Steve’s heard her cry. He knows. “None of us knew.” Tony whips around.

“You were supposed to protect her!” His words make Steve flinch more than the volume he screams it at. Steve’s blood rushes to his head in his shame, and a familiar bruise blooms in his throat. “I trusted you. You promised me you’d protect her.”

“I promised I’d try, Tony,” he whispers. “And I couldn’t. Neither could you. If you were in my position, you wouldn’t have made it in time.”

“I could’ve. I could’ve, with my suit. I could have saved her if I was in your position, because I would have had the suit!” Tipping over a wine glass and letting it smash to the floor, all but Tony flinch when he walks over the shards of broken glass. “You don’t have any idea what I could’ve done.”

Steve falls silent. He turns on the phone screen, turns it off again, and flips it over to feel the edges where the screen protector has cracked.

“Tony,” Thor begins, speaking for the first time since he’s arrived. His dark blue eyes are storms on seas and the air around him blurs with energy. The air tastes like lightning. “Look at me.”

“I could’ve saved her,” Tony repeats.

“Look at me.” Dark eyes meet storm blue. “You could not have gone across the city, bring her out of the water, and take her to a hospital alive. Even if you did find her, she would have bled out or succumbed to her injuries.” His voice lowers as Tony’s head drops forward, tears racing down his nose and cheeks. “We all saw the suit.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s dead,” Tony whispers. He jolts himself out of Thor’s grasp and walks back to the window. “She could’ve made it out. Someone could’ve saved her.”

“Tony,” Natasha calls softly, “we need to—“

“‘We’,” the man repeats incredulously. He gives them all a sneer. Tony’s bitter smile could make hell freeze over and Steve pockets the phone, standing. “I’m sorry, there’s a ‘we’ in this situation? Who’s her brother here?”

“Tony, that isn’t fair—”

“There is no ‘we’. You all think she’s dead, but we never got a body. That’s what isn’t fair about this. You’re supposed to be her friends, her family, and you’ve just given up on her! She could still be out there. She could still be kicking and you’ve all given up on her!” Swiping a hand out to the window, he stares at them, waiting for them to agree. When they don’t, his head bows as his hands ball into fists. With a sigh, all the strength leaves him and Tony’s shoulders slump. When he looks up again, his eyes are shining wet, dark earth after a storm.

“Tony,” Steve says his name faintly, then clears his throat. Standing up, he waits for the response and gets none. He begins his way to the man who personifies all stages of grief. His throat bruised from holding in tears, he just calls his name again until Tony looks at him. “We got the suit.” Tony’s entire body crumples and he leans against the bar, eyes narrowing on the marble swirls. “She may have been your sister, but she wasn’t invincible.”

“Don’t talk about her like she’s dead!” Steve sees the swing before it makes contact and he ducks underneath, bringing Tony into a crushing hug. “She’s not dead. She’s my baby sister, she’s not dead.” Steve doesn’t say anything, but the man seems to wilt in his arms as another hand touches his shoulder. Bruce sends a tight-lipped smile before slipping between the two and hugging Tony tight. The blond pulls away.

“Thor, get the suit,” Steve whispers, turning to the god. He’s uncharacteristically quiet, nodding and uncrossing his arms to go retrieve the cargo they’d received a week ago. Maria Hill had it delivered in an unsuspecting box outside of Stark Towers, with a touch ID that only Tony Stark could bypass. Inside, the melted, burnt, broken remains of what is left of your mechanic suit. Half a gauntlet, blasted metal, shrapnel and bloodstains. That’s all they have left of you.

Tony takes out your helmet. There are ashy streaks where the explosion had damaged the metal, and there’s a huge crack up the left side of the mask until where the eye used to be. A hole is punched through, the wires poking out, and blood where something had dragged over your mask.

“J.A.R.V.I.S., connect A.N.A. to the servers.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Good morning, Mr. Stark.” A new voice echoes throughout the penthouse, a subdued female who sounds like she’s seen better days. Steve catches Tony’s weakening smile. “Is there anything you need?”

“You have the recording for… for her last day?” Bruce asks quietly.

“Mr. Stark?” A.N.A. seems to wait on Tony for confirmation and he nods.

“Go.”

The helmet lights up and Tony places it on the bar counter before heading down to the couch with the rest of them. Natasha rubs his arm, leaning on her other elbow and hiding her mouth behind a tight fist. Thor closes his eyes, listening as intently as he can. Bruce paces back and forth and Steve just waits on Tony.

When they reach your agony, your screams, your relentless sobbing for death as you sink into the Potomac, Tony tells A.N.A. to turn it off. There’ll be two funerals, they decide. The public memorial and one just for them.

“You dealt with my sister’s potty mouth and you yell at me about language?” Tony asks over the comms. Steve groans on the other end, and he’s surprised by how easily he can mention you. It doesn’t hurt as much. “I literally can’t get over it.”

“It just slipped out, Tony,” he replies.

“Well, I bumped into a forcefield, so I had a reason.” Tony’s senses are on high alert. The Enhanced is MIA and his eyes scan the area.

“Keep your eyes on the prize, Tony. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can head home and debate about it.”

Tony pushes on the secret door, letting out a silent ‘yay’ when it gives, sliding into motion.

“We have a second enhanced. Female. Do not engage.”

Walking down the staircase, Tony’s nerves shoot. Something about this place seems off. The staircase expands as he gets to the end, leading through a dark hallway lit by the occasional lamp that looks like it hasn’t had its oil changed since the 80’s. Grimacing, Tony continues on his way. It’s enough light to let him see ahead and if he needs the suit, it’s just seconds away. The hallway opens up to reveal a huge underground laboratory, and Tony’s eyes widen, gaze drifting up as he takes in the magnitude of this room. It’s a huge construct, with metal catwalks and staircases. A Leviathan is hoisted in the air by wires and he blinks.

“Guys, I got Strucker.”

“Yeah, I’ve got… something bigger.” There are benches full of forgotten projects or ones half-done. An Iron Legion robot lays on one of them, illuminated by pale yellow.

Shit. He wants to get out of here and back to the team, but it’s too late now and he has a job to do. His eyes drift over the robot again, seeing if he’d know what they needed it for. Experimentation? Curiosity?

Parts. He can see it in the delicate way it was taken apart, by someone who knows their way around this kind of stuff. This isn’t some ten year old who’d torn it apart for the sake of curiosity. No, this is surgery.

Tearing his eyes away, he turns to look at the triple row of benches under what looks to be operating room lights. Something gold and red glimmers underneath the light but he can’t risk getting unfocused.

The blue glow of Loki’s sceptre reminds him of why he’s here, and he goes to it. Electricity crackles around it, tools and half-made but quality gadgets used to stabilize it. There are monitors reading the levels it’s giving out, fluctuating as Tony steps closer.

“Thor, I got eyes on the prize.”

“Tony?” Turning around at the sound of a voice — the voice, your voice — Tony’s eyes widen as the Leviathan jerks into motion. Letting out a scream, he flinches away, his mind reeling back to that wormhole in 2012. Panic seizes him, his lungs constricting and his heart beating in time with the pulse in his head as he turns to watch it go, flying above the rock steps occupied by some bodies.

Bodies he recognizes.

Bruce’s Hulk body twitches as the last of his fight leaves him. Spears come out and go into him at all angles and he lets out a painful whimper. Natasha’s broken arms and legs stretch and twist in awkward angles as if she’d fallen to her death and every single bone in her is shattered. A pool of blood spreads beneath her head and her eyes stare sightlessly at him. The rock ledge is slick with red, flowing down in a tiny trickle towards Clint. For a moment, Tony thinks he’s alive, and he nearly calls out his name.

Then his head dips and lolls, and Tony knows. Thor’s neck is gashed to the bone, but his blood has dried and Tony’s breath catches in his throat. The few things that can kill Thor aren’t even possible on Earth, and Tony takes a step towards him just as his gaze drops. Steve Rogers lays there, bruised and battered with a shield snapped in half.

Half of him knows this is a vision but the other half is trying to rationalize it. Whatever is messing with his head: transmittable by air, powerful enough to warp his reality, and potent enough to capitalize on pre-existing emotions. Tony jots all this down in his mind as he desperately tries to pull himself out.

Not real, not real, not—

“You could have saved us.”

“Ant? Is it really you?” Spinning around, he comes face to face with you. You look more than a little worse for wear, and he touches your face, unbelieving. Searching your face, he just sighs and kisses your forehead. “Tony, oh my god.” Letting out something between a sob and a chuckle, he rubs your cheeks with his thumbs. Your hands cup his face and you cry out, hugging him tightly.

“Y/N, you’re okay.” He takes hold of you by the shoulders, taking in your features as his fingers brush over your cheekbones.

“Hey, Tony,” you whisper. The skin peels away underneath your eye in the shape of the crack of your mask as he touches your face, peeling like wet tissue and he lets out a shout, pushing back. The flap of skin continues to fall, tearing away your face and blood flows down the gash as your eye closes. Scarlet tears flow your cheeks. “Tony, it’s me.”

“Y/N, no….” You reach for him still, trying to understand why and Tony can only back away. You’re dressed in tattered clothes, all bloody and burned — the clothes you died in and there’s a gaping hole where your abdomen should be.

“Tony?”

“It isn’t you.” The ugly pulsing burn on your side is black and white, your arm mangled beyond repair. “Stop…”

“Tony, what’s wrong?” You run to him when he trips over the steps of the rocks and you pull him up. Blood runs down your neck, drying dark and thick. Your eye opens again. With a pitch black pupil, only a green synthetic outline stares back at him.

“You’re not real!” Flinging your arms off, he stalks past you and searches for the sceptre. “You’re dead. I buried your empty casket.” He takes in his surroundings, his back to the pile of dead heroes. If he doesn’t acknowledge it, it’ll make his mind realize it isn’t real. If he finds the sceptre, he’s out of here. It’s the sceptre messing with his mind. That’s it. Find the sceptre.

You stumble after him but he ignores you too. His heart tears in half as he ignores it and tells himself that you’re dead. He forces himself to think of that cloudy day and that empty casket. They buried your suit and your favourite books for you to read in whatever afterlife. It’s been a year. You’re dead.

A vibrating hum catches his attention and he freezes. Closing his eyes, he tries to hone in on the sound.

“Tony, please! Look at me...” A hand clutches at his shirt and he whips around, prepares to scream for his mind to shut up. The words die before he can speak. There the sceptre is, with the monitors and stabilizers and everything. No dead bodies, no blood on his hands. But the hand is still there. A sobbing pile is at his feet and a pale hand grasps his shirt, and his breath catches when the sobbing pile cries out his name. His stomach twisted, bile crawls up his throat when he sinks to his knees, collapsing before it. His hands shake and he feels his heart steadily climb towards the spectrum of beating so fast he isn’t sure he has a heart anymore. His blood mutes his frantic thoughts, and he, lightheaded and dizzy, pulls the hands off of him. They’re shaking but he isn’t sure if it’s him or… or you.

“Tony, please look at me. Tony? Tony, it’s not a vision, right? I’m, I’m not seeing things, again? Tony?” Your voice under your breath mutters these heartbreaking things that Tony lets out a breathless laugh of pain, and he tilts your chin up to see you. It can’t be you. You, with the exploded armour and bloodstains. You, who’d died by S.H.I.E.L.D. It can’t be you. A shaky hand reaches for your chin, and he feels the hot tears dripping off your skin as he angles your head to the light. Your eyes are wide and sunken compared to the rest of your face and your lips are dried and cracked. Your hands are calloused, dirty, your fingernails chipped, your skin raw and red and blistering. It can’t be you.

But it is.

“Yeah, Y/N, it’s me.” Your eyes widen and you stare at him as if you’ve just noticed him for the first time, and you let out a loud sob, covering your hand with your mouth as he lunges into you, holding you as tight as he can. You’re so real and warm and you’re hugging him back even harder if that’s even possible as he sniffs back his tears.

If this is a dream, Tony doesn’t want to wake up.

“Tony? Tony, you found me. I told them you would, but obviously they ignored it, because you’d never stop until you did.” Tony’s heart races back to the other end of the spectrum. The not-beating side. The side riddled with guilt and grief and pain that he thought he’d moved past but here, in your earnest view, it all comes rushing back. “They, they kept me here to work on the staff, but… you found me.” You bury your face in his neck and he kisses the spot before your ear, looking at the staff with wet eyes. Blinking, he lets the tears that fall, fall freely. “I thought I was dreaming when I heard your voice. It’s been so long. Tony.”

You break down into tears as you melt into his arms, slouching all over him. He holds you up in his embrace and your knees drag over the floor as you wrap your legs around him. He pulls back and sits on his bottom, holding you in his lap like he did when you were a kid after a nightmare. You latch onto him like a koala, and he sighs, eyes closing.

“I’ve got you, sis.” Running a hand over your hair, he realizes with a pang how thin you are. You’re all bones and not a lot of meat, and your spindly fingers are grasping onto him so hard that it hurts. But pain’s good. Means it’s more likely to be real. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. We’re gonna get you outta here. I’ve got you.”

The comm links are active as Tony buries his face in your greasy hair. You smell awful, but underneath it, you smell like you.

“Guys, we’ve got a plus one.”

“Hold my hand, Steve.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” He nods, as if expecting your answer and you sit across from him. Reaching over, the man holds your hand across the conference room table. Tony situates himself in the corner, and you already know what’s coming. You just need to gauge Steve’s reaction when it’s presented.

As images of every global instance of destruction flickers across the screen, you feel something within you twist harder. Washington, D.C. Steve’s grip intensifies, nearly crushing your hand until you give him a gentle squeeze in reminder.

You open the first page of the Sokovia Accords. His thumb traces soothing circles over your skin while you flip through the pages. Your cybernetic eye scans each one, gleaning the important info for you to review later before you hand it off.

Since your return to civilization, you’ve updated and replaced the tech H.Y.D.R.A. used to keep you alive and functioning with improvements that are far more befitting of you. For one thing, your cybernetic eye they used to replace the one they gouged out has a link to the earpiece, allowing you near 24/7 access to A.N.A. For another, you’ve improved mesh camouflage. After all, the scarring around your metal abdomen is kinda unsightly for undercover operations.

Still, this isn’t how you wanted to go back into the Avengers. After Tony’s BARF showcase at MIT and the announcement of the September Foundation Grant, you had felt the shift in Tony’s energy. From generous and giving, to guilty and heartbroken, you knew something had happened when he went to the bathroom. Still, he probably didn’t want to talk about it.

So you took the jet back to New York for an emergency Security Council meeting with Secretary Thaddeus Ross.

Tony watches as you hand the Accords to Steve. Sam refuses to look at it, and Steve only lifts the cover to humour you. You know him.

When Secretary Ross leaves, the rest of the Avengers follow suit soon after, but not before your brother kisses your hair and rubs your head. They all head out to see the Secretary off and then meet in one of the many lounges in the facility. All of them except Steve.

Steve pulls his hand back to open the thick book, and you swivel the chair to face him fully. He reads the first page and you watch as his expression tightens, lips pressed together, eyebrows furrowed.

“Steve,” you whisper and he looks up at you. Instantly, everything relaxes. His shoulders slide down and he even manages a small smile.

“I don’t like it so far,” he tells you. “Sacrificing our right to choose is too dangerous.” He lifts the Accords half way, scans the pages, and then lets it drop again. He rubs his hand over his face, looking older and tired.

“Well, we can set up safeguards, can’t we? Once all the publicity dies down.” You reach for his hand, and he takes hold of it again. The warmth of him soothes your nerves and he instantly begins rubbing your knuckles. Habit, you suppose.

“But what if this panel doesn’t send us where we need to go? What if they send us where we aren’t needed? Y/N, we can’t be run by some panel who doesn’t even know us.”

“I know. You know I know what happens when corruption begins to spread. I’m sure we’ll be able to have some say over this.”

“Agendas change.”

“And what if our agendas change, too?” you ask quietly. Steve’s head snaps up and you lean forward, squeezing his palm. “I’m not saying you or Tony. I know you try your best. I’m saying when we’re all gone, what happens if the Avengers are run by people who don’t have the same ideals?”

“That’s a far off possibility.”

“But it’s still a possibility.” You stand, smoothing your hands over your pants and adjusting your vest. You realize somewhere that you’re dressed exactly like your brother, but you ignore it. The two of you can’t help but be fashion icons. Walking around the table, you sit on the surface next to his hand. “I don’t like it either, so I’m not going to sign.” Not yet. “But, Tony wants to. So we’re gonna have to talk it over with the team.”

Steve leans back into his chair to look at you. “I can’t sign this, Y/N.”

“I know.” You pull him up to his feet and smile as he brushes hair away from your face. “I know, baby.” You pull him into a hug and he sighs, nuzzling into your neck. Pulling back, he sighs again and brushes his thumb over your lips as his gaze searches your face. He takes you in like he’ll never see you beside him again and you do the same, just trying to burn his face into your memory.

“These Accords might ruin us.”

“Not if you don’t let it.”

“Tony wants to sign.” Steve lets his head drop and the hands you have on your shoulders press down. Your thumbs dig circles into his muscles.

“Not if we convince him not to.” You send him a smile and he cups your face. “We’re really lucky, Steve. Really lucky. We got a second chance. This past year has been hell for the both of us, but we got our chance.”

“At what cost is it to keep us together? I can’t just pretend I agree with this. If I see a situation pointed south, I can’t just ignore it.”

“I know, baby. Tony knows it too.” Your hands run down his chest and your fingers tangle together. “This is our family. Just, remember that.”

“I know.” Leaning over, he kisses your cheek, although you yearn for it somewhere else, and pulls away to go to the lounge with the Accords. You sit there on the table, alone, watching him go, with that feeling in your heart just like the one in 2012.

Just like the one in Washington.

“Take one more step, and I’ll be sending your brains to Wilson.”

Steve freezes. The words, tossed so poisonously against his back, make him stop and he swallows through his bruised throat. He doesn’t want to look at you. He can’t look at you after what he’d done. Rhodey shattered, Tony somewhere trying to fix the mess he made. But he couldn’t regret choosing Bucky. Still, he just wanted to make sure you were okay but you’d woken up and grabbed your gun as quick as you could, standing despite the ringing that must’ve been going on in your head.

“You don’t walk away when I’m talking to you, Captain.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Without the shield, he almost feels naked under your piercing glare. He knows that if looks could kill, it wouldn’t have mattered if he had vibranium between you two. “You know what you mean to me.” The gun cocks and he hears the safety switch off. Your finger rests over the trigger.

“Secretary Ross charged me with finding you. Tony asked me to bring you in peacefully,” you whispers. Your unsaid words hang in the air instead. Not more than Bucky. Never more than Bucky. Bucky who killed my parents.

Bucky who didn’t know what he was doing.

But he killed them.

And Steve knew.

After Secretary Ross assigned you with bringing back the fugitives, you’d refused at first.

“I don’t work for organizations like yours,” you said.

“Y/N, if you don’t go, we don’t know how many people will get hurt when they get in his way,” Tony said.

“I’m only going for you,” you said.

You knew Steve wouldn’t let his team rot on the Raft for so long. It was only a matter of time before he came to rescue them, and that was where you came in. You know his mind, and it almost kills you, knowing that in every circumstance, he would’ve always chosen Bucky over you.

Steve was always the better hand-to-hand combatant between the two of you, but Natasha had taught you some new moves before she’d gone and disappeared without a trace, too. You had him pinned underneath you, and a part of you knows that he’d only let you win because he didn’t want to hurt you. Before, it used to be funny. You used to spar, and you’d pin him down, or he’d scoop you up in a hug. Before, it used to be fun and flirty, and you two would make smoothies after. At least, before everything that had happened.

No such kindness is in you now.

It wasn’t in Sam either. The man had knocked you out with a fire extinguisher, leading to their escape.

Until now.

Steve had dragged you to the little skipper he’d used to sneak onto the Raft, scared out of his mind for the concussion you now sported. But it didn’t matter. Despite the dots nearly blacking out your vision, you know if you pull, it’d hit Steve and come out between the eyes.

“Rhodey’s paralyzed,” you grit out, your jaw clenched so hard you’re sure your teeth will break, “because of you. How could you do this to him? To Tony? Especially after what happened last year? Tony… Tony’s heartbroken. You know that? He’s heartbroken.”

So are you. Steve knows how to read between your lines, even if some of ‘em are metal instead of flesh.

“Then, are you gonna do it?” Steve asks quietly. Golden light streams into the dark room, illuminating his broad shoulders and sifting through his hair, and you wonder if everyone else is asleep. That’s the only reason you can think of that’ll make him see you now. He’s always held these secrets. It’s a fucking shame you’re one of them.

It’s a fucking shame he hid the most important one from you. It almost makes you wonder if he ever felt anything for you at all. Life has been shitting on you.

Squinting your eyes, you try to ignore the blossoming pain in your head as you shake your thoughts away. He doesn’t even look at you. Coward.

“I want to,” you tell him, finger just barely pushing the trigger. You know how much pressure it takes to fire a gun “I really, really want to.” You half-laugh, half-cry, because of the pain in your heart and head. Who’s the coward now? “I didn’t know what to do.”

“I know.” Steve turns to you then, his normally-bright blue eyes hooded by the shadows of the rocking ship. You put the gun down, and it’s almost as if all the strength leaves you then, too. “I never wanted you to pick between Tony and I.”

“Why, because I’d pick Tony?” You sit back down on your bed again, and Steve shoves his hands in his pockets. Walking over, he angles his head to the spot beside you and you nod, reaching over to turn on the lamp. “Well, you’d pick Bucky so, I guess it’s even.”

“Y/N,” he begins but you hold up a hand as your eyes close.

“Save it, Rogers. It doesn’t matter.” Your teeth clench together and the muscles in your jaw twitches as your eyebrows push down. All you’re trying to do is not cry at the thought of leaving him here on this ship. Taking a shaky breath, you blow it out as Steve puts a hand on yours. Your fingers slot together and you lean towards him until your head is on your shoulder. He tilts his head to press his cheek into your hair and your fingers play together as your other hand brushes over his calloused skin, broken along his knuckles where he’d punch your brother. “None of it matters.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Something wet slides into your hair and you feel it drip down your skin. Placing your hand atop his, you swallow and tell yourself to get it together.

“The most ridiculous part of this whole situation is that I love you,” you tell him because there might never be a chance to tell him again. “Your best friend killed my parents. You beat up my brother and he’s back in New York, bruised and battered and heartbroken, and I’m here.” You raise your head and he turns to look at you. Searching his eyes, you find nothing but grief. He pulls away his hand. “I’m here, instead of there with him.” You laugh because it’s all so stupid and ridiculous. “I’m really here, fraternizing with the enemy.”

This is never how you imagined you would tell Steve you loved him. Never. The first time you tell him you love him is the day it’s over. Fucking poetic, isn’t it.

“I’m fraternizing with the enemy,” you repeat. Steve’s your enemy. Steve. Your stupid dork is now the enemy of 117 countries and you. The realization slams into you like things you can’t name. Your eyes flicker close and a few tears slip out but you manage to suck the rest in. Steve lets out an exhausted sigh and it feels like you’re both bone-tired this days.

“Y/N, I never wanted this for you. I just wanted to keep you safe.” His hand rises up to touch your face but then he seems to think better of it and lets it drop again. You miss the warm, rough feel of him already and he’s not even gone yet. “If the U.N. did what H.Y.D.R.A. did—”

“I know. I…” You sigh, looking down at the slight space between the two of you. How easy it would be to close it if it were a different time. “It was never a choice between you and Tony. It was a choice between Tony and what I believed in, and I believe in you, Steve. I believe that organizations like S.H.I.E.L.D., like the World Security Council, like some U.N. security panel, can’t be trusted.”

“Then, why? You know what organizations can do. You know that agendas change.”

“We’ve already lost so much. We’ve had too many casualties.” You cup his face, smile bitterly, try to make a joke out of it that you know won’t land. “I was one of them.”

“You can’t say that,” Steve says, turning his face away and you swallow the knot in your throat.

“Why not? It’s true.” The most horrible thing you’ve ever seen lays within Steve’s eyes in that moment but you move on. “The Accords are still gonna pass whether you’re there or not. It’s a matter of safety, now,” you whisper and his gaze darts to you. His eyes ask a silent question and you dread the answer. “I’m gonna sign. I need to do my job, Steve, even if it means working for some higher power. There’s no other way.”

“So you’ve picked a side.” The distance between you is immeasurably wide, and you wonder how such a huge distance can be fit in such a tiny space.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I’ve picked a side.” Steve’s face twitches and you take in his sculpted lips and cheeks, his blue eyes that reflect the lamplight and warm golden hair. “Steve, all that matters is we know what we are.” 2012 feels so long ago but it makes you feel younger when Steve tries to smile. Then, he looks down and you have a feeling he can’t even look at you.

At first, you think it’s because you disgust him. It’s not the first time you’ve thought such a thing, but then you realize. He’s terrified of watching you fall out of love with him.

How much you want to tell him that it isn’t possible. But you don’t. You can’t say a thing.

“But you’ve chosen a side,” he replies quietly, almost accusatory if you didn’t know him better. You close your eyes for a moment at his words, and then you turn away. The light is blinding in the hallway, but it’s better than looking at the heartache in Steve’s face. Tears slip down your cheeks as you stand and take the gun.

“You chose yours first.”

Tags: @teawithbucky @jcc04220 @shenala @dulharpa

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ohvalleyofplentyyy · 5 years ago

Text

Chamomile - Chapter 5

A/N : hello people, hope you are all staying safe in these scary times! please stay in quarantine but if you must do out and don’t have a mask, get creative and use scarfs! gloves! mittens! anything to cover up!! i’ve been having bad writers block so thats why this have been taking a while! love y’all

masterlist

chapter 1

Chapter 5 : The Book

Geralt woke up to something poking him in the back, (no not like that you dirty thinkers). He turned around to see a small twig floating in the air, twirling around when it finally got his attention. “What is it?” He said the small piece of branch. In the soil below, the twig carved out the word breakfast.

“Hmm.” Was all the man said, he stood, gathered his things and walked back to the house.

…

“Y/N please teach me how you make this all happen!” Jaskier exclaimed as he watched the kitchen work along side her. She smiled and tapped her finger on a bowl, making it magically sprout little ceramic legs and walk over to the pan, pouring the batter into little circles.

As the two chatted about rituals, Geralt came in through the already open door that had been letting in the morning breeze.

He watched as Y/N made no notion to acknowledge that he was there and continue to show Jaskier something. The bard smiled at him but then immediately turned back to the Wiccan lesson he was being taught.

“—so then you just circle your finger around it and will it to do what you need. Simple right?” “Can I try?” He asked, Y/N moved out of the way and watched as Jaskier drew small symbols in the flour that had been sprinkled out on a wood board.

Her face crinkled a bit when something was wrong, so she wrapped her self around Jaskier and took his hand in hers to trace the correct symbol.

For some reason, Geralt didn’t like this at all.

“There you go! Look, its working.” She exclaimed as the small mug waddled over to the pitcher that poured some fresh tea into it. The bard smiled and triumphantly picked up the cup and took a sip.

“Your twig said breakfast?” Geralt interrupted, disturbing the sweet mood that had over taken the house. The Wiccan’s back stiffened at the proclamation and Jaskier rolled his eyes at the sour tone his friend had.

“Sure, you can pick up that apron and start slicing the strawberries or would you like us to do that and also braid your hair?” The musician quipped, earning a stifled laugh from Y/N and a surprised expression on the Witcher’s face.

The two went back to working on breakfast and Geralt’s sour face made him look like he was scorching a spot in the small wood chair he sat in.

A few minutes later, Geralt watched plates float over to the table, glasses bounced on an invisible trampoline over to sit next to the plates that had now settled down in front of each seat.

Forks and and knives flew straight over as well, one knife flying particularly close to the monster hunter’s face. Probably not much of a coincidence, considering the faint chuckle that emerged from the Wiccan as the blade almost sliced a tendril of his hair.

Y/N twirled around with a plate of pancakes for the table and eloquently sat them down on the table. “Bon appétit!” She said while the pitcher poured water into a couple cups. Jaskier and her sat down and started putting food on their plates, Geralt looked at the set up before him.

Strawberries were cut to look like little flowers, scrambled eggs in a large bowl that was the shape of a daisy and the stack of pancakes sat in the middle of the table, already being dwindled down by the group.

After the plates had been emptied and bellies full, the three sat to chat and tease— well, Geralt watched as Jaskier and y/n chatted and teased each other. He felt like an outsider in the conversation and decided to get on with the real reason they were there.

“So what you planning to do about the demon attacks?” He asked, finished off his cup of ale that Y/N had begrudgingly given him when he requested it. Not a breakfast drink if you ask me, she had mumbled setting it down in front of him.

The Wiccan paused for a moment as if to collect her thoughts and then spoke, “Well, I’ve been on the run for so long that it would be very easy to just go into hiding again.”

Geralt gave her an unimpressed look and she continued, “But, the body count is becoming to high to turn my cheek this time, so I guess I’ll be forced to deal with it.” “What does that exactly mean?” Jaskier asked.

Y/N snapped her fingers and the door swung shut and ice started to cover over the windows.

“Just precautionary measures.” She stated.

She stood up from the table and went over to the couch, she tapped a specific wood board on the wall and it popped open, she reached into the small opening and pulled out a giant book from its weird angled hiding place.

She dusted it off and came back to the two boys sitting at the table. She rose it into the air over the table and dropped it with a smack!

All the items that had been used for breakfast had scatter to the far edge where no one was sitting before being crushed with the book thankfully.

The book in the center of the table was very old, years of use could be seen in the bindings and edges. It was covered in a dark brown leather that had metal sculptures in four corners of an old atlas that was printed into the cover and in the dead center, a strange compass with a gem stone embedded.

“This is what I’ll use.” She said, Jaskier skimmed his fingers over the marks that went around the compass and then flipped it open to the first page.

It was blank.

The bard looked up at her with a confused expression adorning his facial features and Geralt’s wasn’t far from it, the Witcher flipped a few more pages and they were all the same, empty.

“What are you going to do, draw the enemy away?” He scoffed, this seemed utterly ridiculous. How could a blank book do anything?

Y/N pursed her lips, the faint inkling of a smirk hidden. She closed the book and then simply reopened it, this time it was definitely not blank.

Jaskier gasped as the three of them saw the pages come alive. It was like a map book but, alive.

The page they had flipped to was a small town on the coast, the paper had little names moving around it as though it was following the human assigned to the name.

Y/N ran her finger down the center of the page and then touch a building that was labeled Stakel’s Pub.

Magically, ink covered the page and then soaked back down again, revealing the inside of the store like you were looking in from the ceiling. Geralt watched in disbelief as the bartender cleaned out a glass before pouring beer into it and a couple sitting at the far table make out.

“This is— these haven’t been used for—“ “Centuries?” Y/N quipped, with a raised eyebrow. Geralt continued, “These books are myths, legends. It’s not possible that you have one.”

The girl stretched her arms up and looked toward the ceiling, “Are you seriously doubting that this isn’t real? Isn’t it sitting right in front of you?”

“Yes but—” “Is it maybe possible that I have items from my father?” “Possible but—” “Couldn’t I have been keeping it safe till I intended to use it?”

“Fine alright, but how do you plan to use it? How will this find the demons? It doesn’t exactly seem to show what spirits are wandering around.”

With a roll of her eyes, she flipped the page and took three fingers to drawn a circle in the left corner, all the human names disappeared from the paper and lots of other names popped up, also with a date underneath each.

“The date is the year they died.” She said, clearing up Jaskier’s confusion as he mumbled does thing have a key or something?

Her eyes returned to the Witcher sitting at her table, “I’m going to find the Gate to Hell and sneak in.”

“What?!”

Both men had gob-smacked expressions, “I need to access the pool of knowledge and submerse myself in it for 10 seconds, that will give me enough time to search through and find who is sending these knights after me.”

Jaskier sputtered, “Find the—Gates of Hell?! Oh god, How did I get myself into this mess?! I can’t—” Geralt talked over Jaskier’s rambling, “This atlas knows where it is?”

She scratched her eyebrow and went to sit down across the table from the two. “Not exactly, I need to first find a few things and then it will.” “What things…” Geralt pressed.

“I need the last words of a dying person, a four leaf clover found by a magical child, and the blood of a loved one.”

The Witcher slouched back in the chair and rolled his head back, “Fuck.”

He took a deep breath and then stood, “Let’s get started.”

masterlist

join my taglist! (its a google form)

tags: @alienemilyyyy @angelic-kisses13 @alwayshave-faith @holyhumorliteraturelight @emilyhuynhhh @holychic @katiejmac @romancebibilophilia @jessevans @petalduck @clumsypinktiger @juggy-buggy-betty-wetty @goatboats @beaglesaremajestic @stretchkingblog97 @bggerbtch @canny1902 @minervalavender @intergalactic-wonder @loverofaccents @dreaming-about-starfleet

crossed out tags didn’t work.

#the witcher #witcher x reader #witcher #the witcher jaskier #the witcher fic #witcher x y/n #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x jaskier x reader #jaskier #netlifx #the witcher series #plentyyychamomile #oh valley of plenty #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher x reader #aaaaa

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toocool2btrue · 5 years ago

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Distance 2/2

Lance currently lay in his bed his brows furrowed as thousand thoughts swarmed in his mind, the Garrison was going to announce the result of the pilot exam on Monday and the mere thought of it gave him the goose bumps, he shook his head, trying to push those thoughts at the back of his mind and instead eyed the clock wondering when will Katie will come back. Although it was Saturday, she had been called in for an emergency at work and she had yet to come back home. To keep his anxious mind busy, Lance had spent the whole day doing small chores but now there was nothing left to do. He hoped that Katie would come home soon and hopefully they could play video games together.

If she actually gets the time that is, he wouldn’t be surprised if Eric had already something planned beforehand. Lance grumpily sighed, he felt guilty for getting jealous of her boyfriend like that after all she had every right to prioritize Eric over him but still…

The memory of Katie holding onto his hand was still fresh in his mind, just thinking about it made a chill run down his spine and he knew for sure that Katie had felt something too but at the same time she had made it clear in her own way that she didn’t want to or wasn’t ready to have this conversation.

His trail of thoughts were interrupted by a loud bang on his door, ”Hey Lance, Can I come in?” Katie called out from the other side. Lance gave himself a moment to recover his breath, Katie made her entrances like a serial killer.

“Yeah!” he called back and true to his earlier statement the door was kicked open almost out of hinges by a frantic looking Katie but instead of holding a knife or a chainsaw she had held up two dresses in each hand.

“I just got back from work and I need to attend a formal party soon. So help me decide. Black or Green?” she questioned holding them up better for Lance to see. His eyes flitted from the black one to the emerald green one. He always considered green to be more of her color so he immediately replied, “The Green one”

Katie inspected the two dresses again and then nodded in agreement, “Yeah I don’t think I am in a mood for a backless dress. It’s gonna be freezing there. I’ll wear the green one and tie my hair in a high ponytail and call it a day” she grumbled exhaustively.

Lance frowned at her idea and spoke up “Katie, I think a side bun will suit the dress more than a high ponytail” he suggested helpfully.

Katie groaned rubbing her temple, “I know you are right but I am too tired to even attempt something like that right now. I spent the whole day trying to fix the stupid malfunction in the prototype. My hands are numb” she sighed dramatically, displaying her hands to him.

Lance mentally awed, they still looked so small as compared to his. “Well if you want. I can help you with that. You’d be surprised to see how skilled I have become” he declared proudly and Katie raised a brow in amusement, it had been a longtime since she had a glimpse of his old cocky personality.

“I hope you’re a better hairstylist than you were a tailor”

Sometime later

“Lance, please tell me that you know what you are doing” Katie asked as Lance took hold of her hair, “Will you just relax? It’s going to look amazing!” he assured.

“Although you could have at least brushed it before. It’s all tangled up” he reprimanded, picking up a brush. Katie scoffed in an offended manner, “When I gave you the responsibility of my hair, this was included in it. You can’t back off now buddy”

Lance chuckled as he gently brushed her auburn locks, “Don’t worry I am not backing off. This is my Everest and I will succeed!” he declared. Lance watched in the mirror as Katie rolled her eyes, “Stop being so over dramatic,“ she scoffed again but there was telltale hint of a smile on her face.

“I like to give you a warning. My hair has a mind of its own, so we are gonna need a lot of bobby pins” she informed opening the top drawer of her dresser. Lance blinked in disbelief at the mountain of bobby pins in the drawer, “How do you still have so many of them. Don’t they disappear?” he wondered, after all that’s what years of living with his mother and sisters taught him.

“I buy them twice a month just in case. There was a time Matt used to steal mine to try all these crazy hairstyles. Thankfully he has got a normal haircut now” she replied.

“I see what you mean” he mumbled as a small curl popped out from the half done bun and Katie laughed handing him a handful of bobby pins.

“Anyway what have you got planned for the night?” she asked. “Uh.. nothing, Veronica has to attend a friend’s bridal shower and you have that party so I’ll be at home and probably order pizza” he replied trying to sound upbeat.

“I see..” she mumbled falling silent as Lance continued to work on her hair. After the bun was complete. Lance frowned unsatisfied, it looked perfect from the back but as he glanced at her reflection in the mirror, something was still missing.

So he walked over to the front and gently pulled out a stray curl that framed her face. Katie beamed at him in response as she inspected her reflection. “Thank you, Lance. It looks beautiful”

Lance wanted to correct her and tell that it was she who actually looked beautiful. More beautiful than anyone he had ever seen before but instead he softly smiled in response and accepted the compliment.

He glanced at his watch, there was still half an hour but Katie probably would want to get there earlier. “Well its almost time for you to go. Have fun” he smiled getting up to leave her room.

“Wait!’ she called out suddenly. “I am pretty sure that I am allowed to bring one person so why don’t you come with me?” she offered. Lance blinked in surprise before shaking his head. “Thanks but-”

“Oh come on, It would be better than you staying here. Shiro got back from his intergalactic trip yesterday so you will even get to meet him. Also the food is going to be amazing” She informed gleefully and Lance laughed.

“As much tempting that all sounds. It’s a formal event and I don’t even have a suit” He reminded. “You and Matt are about the same size. So you can wear one of his and dad has this blue tie that would really suit you” she supplied instantly.

Lance grinned, “You really thought this through?” to which Katie nodded proudly.

"There is a reason I am considered a genius. So will you please come” she asked tugging at his arm and Lance finally nodded after it was the same girl he had robbed a water fountain for. He didn’t have much resistance against her.

______________________

“I feel dizzy seeing you like this ” Lance exclaimed holding his head and Shiro chuckled, “I think your being a tad bit melodramatic. I just dyed my hair black”

“It’s been a longtime since I saw them like that. What made you dye them black again?” Lance wondered.

“It started when I coincidentally met Matt during my intergalactic trip. We were just hanging out when he dared me to dye my hair black again. I was kinda hesitant and then he suggested that we could use temporary dye. Unfortunately none of us had any experience in hair dyeing and by the time we were done, we had blackened half the bathroom” Shiro chuckled and Lance joined in.

“Next morning when I woke up and looked in the mirror, I felt so young again and then I realized that I was only in my thirties I didn’t need to have a head full of white hair like some grandpa” he laughed in a thoughtful manner.

Shiro glanced down at his drink before taking a sip, “I realized something important that morning. No matter how glorious or terrible your past is. Dwelling on it too long will destroy your hope for the future. That’s why I erased that part of me”

“What if there is something you can’t erase?” Lance questioned, touching his cheek. Lance knew Shiro would understand, after all he was the first one to get scarred by the war.

“Don’t let it” Shiro firmly replied, “Anything that is stopping you from being happy. Don’t give it that power. Lance, you need to understand something. After what we have gone through, we all deserve to be happy. I know it seems difficult at times but search and go after whatever makes you happy” Shiro stated.

Lance nodded taking in his words, by no coincidence his eyes fell to the figure standing at the opposite side of the room.Katie stood with Eric,chatting excitedly to a group of scientists.

Shiro knowingly smiled to himself witnessing the whole scenario, it was probably the fifth time he had seen Lance look back at Katie ever since she had gone to talk to the other group.

He couldn’t believe that perhaps his years long suspicion might actually be coming true. “So things look better between you and Katie again” he mentioned casually, Shiro’s curiosity turned into glee when Lance’s face slightly flushed.

“Oh yeah, she is the one who actually dragged me here” Lance mumbled shyly.

“I knew you two would eventually figure things out again. True friends always eventually come back to one another”

“You think we could be as good friends as before?” he questioned hopefully. Shiro shrugged in response, “Who knows maybe you two might actually be closer than before. It just depends on how much effort you put in your relationship”

Lance smiled to himself, “Thanks Shiro”

Shiro nodded slyly taking another sip of his drink, Keith and Hunk were in for some news.

“Takashi can you come here. We need to introduce you to the Emperor of Besaiv!!” someone called out from the crowd.

Shiro rolled his eyes in an annoyed manner “To think they might spare me for one night. I’ll be right back ” he said patting Lance’s shoulder and then disappearing in a sea of people.

Lance nodded refilling his drink, he leaned against the wall next to the food table. In order to keep himself amused he looked around the large room despite it being more of a private event the place was still packed with Garrison employees and various alien delegates. There were even paparazzi spying from the windows avoiding security and trying to get a good shot of the event.

Lance considered joining Katie but he didn’t think her ‘boyfriend’ would be very pleased. After all his face looked like he had swallowed a bug when he saw Lance tonight but still managed to amiably greet him for Katie’s sake.

Speaking of the devil, Lance’s eyes widened in surprise when he noticed that Eric was no longer in his previous place. Instead he was seen again moving through the crowd and heading right towards him. Well to be fair, Lance was standing next to the less occupied food’s table so that was more likely why he was coming here.

Eric finally reached the table and filled his plate with few appetizers. “Hey there Lance. Having a good time?” he asked good naturally to which Lance nodded.

Instead of going back with his plate, Eric decided to join him next to the wall. They stood there quietly as Eric ate the appetizers which frankly wouldn’t take much time since they were a bite size only, the silence wasn’t a comfortable one and Lance really hoped that Eric would finish his tiny food quickly and leave.

“So Katie told me that your exam went well” Eric mentioned offhandedly. Finally something they could talk about, Lance sighed in relief. “Yeah I was really worried but thanks to-”

“That’s good to hear” Eric remarked cutting him off, by this time the plate was empty and before Lance could suggest the stuffed cheese chicken in a vain attempt to keep the conversation going, Eric spoke again.

“Lance” Eric cleared his throat, his eyes raced through the crowd before turning back to Lance. “There is something I need to ask” he said opting for a stern tone. Lance nodded uncertainly placing his glass back on the table, "Ok..”

“I need your honest answer to this. Is there something going on between you and Katie? Do you two have any history that I should know about?” he asked, much to Lance’s horror.

“What?! No!” Lance blurted out, his face turning bright red. “We are just close friends. Nothing else!” he replied hurriedly.

Eric frowned in disbelief, “Look, I am not an idiot who is just jumping to conclusions. It’s not like I haven’t met the other paladins, Katie is close with them as well but with you-”

“I already told you that there is nothing going on. How can you not trust her?!” Lance hissed as fury danced in his cool blue eyes.

“Of course I trust her!” Eric replied getting agitated “It’s you that I don’t. After all, it’s pretty obvious that you have feelings for her” Eric pointed out.

Lance stood there tongue-tied as Eric continued, “Oh come on, it’s not like I haven’t noticed that the entire time you have been here you haven’t been able to take your eyes off her nor did I miss the forlorn look in your eyes when I came to pick her up a few days back. So.. can you deny it now?” he questioned harshly.

Lance’s eyes fell to the floor, his face burning with embarrassment and anger but Eric still wasn’t done, “I am surprised to be very honest. Everyone knows how hopelessly devoted you are to the late princess. You even carry her marks on your cheeks so what happened now? Finally got tired of playing the sad lover?”

Lance looked up and glared daggers at him, “That is none of your concern!”

Eric simply gestured towards the auburn haired girl and then eyed Lance dangerously. “You have made it my concern”

Katie laughed forcefully, as Dr Frank cracked what felt like the thousandth joke of the evening. Despite the cool atmosphere, the nervousness was starting to make her hands sweat. Although from afar, it looked like two men just having a serious discussion but she doubted they shared any common interest to have this long of a conversation.

She glanced around her group, it didn’t look like Dr Franks story was going to end anytime soon but she really needed to come up with to escape soon or else tonight’s party would be remembered for very different reasons.

“ I am feeling a bit thirsty. Let me just get a drink” she informed trying to get out of the conversation. Just then a waiter arrived carrying a tray full of drinks, Dr Frank picked up a glass and handed it to Katie.

“Oh would you look at that. Lucky you” He commented joyfully and Katie had to refrain from rolling her eyes, lucky her indeed. Dr Frank’s eyes lit up and Katie prayed that he hadn’t remembered another one of his dreadfully long and supposedly funny stories yet to her dismay.

“You know this reminds me of the time..” he started and Katie internally screamed. She glanced back at the two men. Their postures looked more stiff than before and it looked like the discussion had now turned into a full blown argument.

She wanted to slip away from the group but Dr Zenia had a good grip on her forearm. Just as she was planning her next move, Shiro came to her rescue.

“Uh..sorry to interrupt but there is this urgent matter that needs Katie’s attention” He stated politely, tugging her away from the group of disappointed scientists.

“Thanks Shiro” she mumbled as the two friends swiftly navigated through the crowd. Shiro nervously glanced at the two arguing figures, luckily they hadn’t grabbed a lot of attention, aside from a few waiters who decided to stay clear of them and handful of Besavis who simply blinked their multiple eyes in confusion at the scene.

“Maybe thank me after this gets solved” He replied worriedly. Katie didn’t reply for her eyes were trained right where Shiro’s were a moment ago. Her mind buzzed with various solutions at the same time her heart twisted with worry.

What could have possibly lead to this? She anxiously thought. She hadn’t even brought up the idea of break up by now but then Eric despite his cool nature did have an irrational streak to him and it made her worry about what exactly was he assuming and excusing Lance off.

“Fine, so what do you expect me to do? What is the point of this conversation?” Lance questioned irritability.

“I think the point is clear enough. I want you to stay away from Katie! ” Eric snapped.

Lance sneered in response to Eric’s annoyance, “Katie and I have known each other even before the discovery of Voltron. Since then, we have faced things together that you can’t even imagine in your worst nightmares. She is one of the most important people in my life so if you think that you can actually try and scare me away. You need to get your head checked for loose screws”

Thankfully before the fight could have further escalate,Katie arrived. She cleared her throat grabbing attention of the two men and at the sight of her both of them paled.

“Katie..” Eric was the first one to speak up much to his misfortune, Katie acknowledged him for a brief moment before turning back to Lance and Shiro.

“Excuse us” she stated politely before turning back to her boyfriend. “Eric follow me, we need to talk” she stated firmly and he complied silently.

Lance watched as the two of them disappeared yet again in the crowd. He and Shiro stood silently for the remainder of the time till Katie finally arrived again. Eric was nowhere near to be found and Katie’s earlier strict demeanor looked crumbled as well, it was obvious what had happened.

Shiro and Lance shared a worried look and Shiro stepped forward to comfort her but Katie wasn’t currently in the mood for sweet words and decided to call it a night, “Good night, Shiro. I’ll see you on Monday” she simply mumbled to the older man who nodded understandably.

She then turned to Lance and he gulped wondering if she had some choice words prepared for him as well but she only sighed softly and said, “Lets go home”

______________________________

Katie slammed the door of her car shut with bang, Lance expectantly glanced at her to say something. He didn’t even care if she would start shouting at him, it would be less scary than this silent Katie.

Katie started slowly making her way towards the house as Lance followed but instead of going inside. She slumped down on the front steps of the house, “Ugh!” she groaned in frustration , covering her face with her hands.

Lance took a hesitant seat beside her, “I am sorry” he mumbled causing Katie to look at him and to his surprise,her eyebrows were cocked up in an amused manner.

“What are you apologizing for?” she asked. Lance looked at her in disbelief, he had thought that Katie would be somewhat furious with him as well. “Because of me. You and Eric got into a fight and you guys broke up” he tried to reason, still feeling confused.

Katie let out a short giggle to his horror, “It was going to happen soon anyway you just catalyzed the whole thing. So don’t feel guilty” she tried to assure.

“Why?” he asked confused, last time he checked Eric looked like he was ready to challenge him to a duel for Katie.This question brought back the earlier gloominess, Katie hugged herself before explaining “It wasn’t gonna work out. I know that eventually he wanted something serious for us but I am not in the same place. I tried to bring myself to that place but I can’t” she cried out helplessly.

“And do you know why?” she added softly, the vulnerable look in her eyes was back, the pale moonlight added a silvery glow to her amber eyes. Lance’s throat felt dry so he only nodded to hear her answer.

“It’s because I am an Idiot!” she declared, “You were right. I can’t do these easy going relationships, it will always be the case of all or nothing for me but I was still stupid enough to do it” she stated miserably.

“You are not stupid. In fact, that’s the exact opposite of what you are” he comforted jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. Unfortunately Katie didn’t seem much amused, “I am stupid at this whole relationship stuff and because of my indecisiveness he is the one who actually got hurt and he deserved better” she whispered.

“Pidge..” Lance called out, wrapping his arm around her, Katie welcomed the comforting embrace and she moved closer to him. She softly sighed, as she placed her head on his shoulder. The two friends remained quiet for a moment, enjoying the tranquility of the night had to offer.

“I shouldn’t be allowed to talk to people” Katie mumbled, her voice slightly muffled by Lance’s jacket. Lance chuckled, “The world would then be a very boring place”

Katie playfully scoffed at his cheesy praise tragically the light atmosphere didn’t last long after all Lance had his own burdens of the heart.

“Since it’s the night of failed relationships. I have a confession too” he declared. Katie lifted her head from his shoulder and eyed her friend with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

“What are you talking about?” she questioned, pulling away from him.

“Allura and I. Our relationship” he started nervously with his eyes trained to the ground.

“It was a mistake”

“A mistake?” Katie repeated. Lance winced, it felt more painful hearing it out in words. “Yes it was mistake. Don’t get me wrong. Allura was a great person and I still love her but now that I think about it, I only ever loved her as a friend and I am pretty sure she never thought more of me either”

Katie looked at him as if he had grown a second head, “Are you sure?” she questioned and to be fair she did have the right to be suspicious, after all he had spent some good years tending those juniberries and avoiding his friends.

“Yes I am sure” he stated. “To be honest there was always something off about our relationship. Sure we were there to comfort and be there for one another but none of us were actually ..happy"

"I used to think that maybe I had exaggerated the idea of love in my head thanks to those stupid writers and poets and this is what it actually felt like” Lance mumbled, glancing at Katie.

He had always found her fascinating, even long before he had known she was a girl. There was this pull and connection he had felt that compelled him to know her better and he feels disappointed that only now he knows what that truly meant.

“But now I know better. Love was never exaggerated by those poets or writers. In fact, it’s such a strong feeling that I don’t think anyone can ever properly describe it” he breathed in amazement, he could feel the warm glow on his cheeks.

“Lance. Your marks are glowing” Katie whispered, reaching out to touch them. Lance laughed heartily, “They are?” his heart wildly danced in his chest as he felt her soft hand against his cheek.

A moment later, the glowing stopped. Katie retracted her hand and beckoned Lance to continue. He cleared his throat, trying to remember his words,“Truth is that we never felt this way about each other and probably if she had lived on. We might have broken up but then she sacrificed herself and gave me the Altean marks and at that time, I was really confused about the whole thing but when I got the Altean marks. I somehow convinced myself that maybe we had been truly in love and now it was my destiny to keep her memory alive”

“And then you know it got out of hand” he mumbled, feeling embarrassed. “I felt confused, lost and trapped. The only goal that made sense to me at that time was keeping her memories alive and then when you guys tried to help me move on. I couldn’t do it. It felt like too much pressure” He confessed as Katie rubbed his back in comfort.

“But hey look at yourself now. You have come so far, you actually are moving on and you know the best part is that you decided to do it on your own. That means you are ready for a new life” she pointed out to which Lance smiled.

“I am” he agreed, “and now when I think about it. I realize that Allura would never want me to keep my life on hold like that. I am pretty sure if she had the opportunity she would have kicked me back to the Garrison” he stated lightheartedly and Katie silently agreed.

"i realized something important today. Team Voltron sucks at romance” Katie declared glumly. Lance chuckled and nodded in agreement.

“What about Hunk though?” Lance asked suddenly remembering one of them was actually in a stable relationship.

“You’re forgetting that he chickened out three times before he finally asked Shay out for a proper date” Katie reminded.

“I don’t think you could add Keith to our group” Lance pointed out, “Mullet managed to seduce three princesses and almost caused war in a planet”

“Whoa! Who knew that Keith was the true lover boy but what can be said girls do love the broody artist type” she grinned.

“The ponytail must have surely helped” Lance added and the two of them broke into fits of laughter.

After the laughter died down.They sat in amiable silence,enjoying the peace and security the other’s company provided.

“I missed this” he confessed breaking the silence, Katie smiled softly and nodded in response. Somehow that soft smile provided him the courage to say the words, he had kept off his lips the whole time. Although he had thought about this for a very long time, always wondering and worrying for the right time to say them and it seemed like the moment had finally arrived.

“Katie, I am sorry” he whispered, taking hold of her hand. “I should never have pushed you away like that, it was the stupidest thing I have ever done and you should know that I really regret it. I regret driving you away to the point of ruining our friendship because Katie you mean so much to me” he confessed, tightening the grip on her hand.

“I felt miserable during the period we stopped talking and it made realize how important you are to me. I never ever want to lose you again” he declared.

Katie was grateful for the lack of light for she was sure her face was redder than a firetruck still her lips curved into a smile, “Never?” she questioned cheekily.

Lance grinned in response, “Even when we die. My ghost will find yours and since Keith is gonna live longer than us because of his galra genes. We will go haunt him”

“Lance..” she tried rolling her eyes at the ridiculous statement but truth was she couldn’t be happier so she finally decided to be honest. Honest with him but most importantly to herself.

“I am glad you are back. I missed you so much” she finally confessed. Lance’s heart practically jumped out of his chest when she pressed a kiss on his cheek and then pulled him into longing hug. He responded, holding onto her with equal desperation.

“I am sorry too” she whispered in his ear. “I should have been more understanding and patient with you”.

“It’s alright. It doesn’t matter anymore. I am just glad to have you back” he replied, closing his eyes as two stray tears slid down his cheeks. As the tears made contact with the marks, they glowed for the last time before finally disappearing forever.

Epilogue

Leon, come back here!!“ Lance called out running after his three year old son. Leon shrieked in excitement as his father finally caught him and then lifted him into the air.

"Leon is flying in space!” Lance declared, spinning his son in the air. “Papa higher!” Leon demanded, failing his arms.

Katie smiled to herself as she watched the little scene. In a minute she had to go and remind Lance to stop messing around and put Leon to bed but for now her she let herself relax and be grateful.

She was reminded of an interesting discussion they had at work, there existed multiple realities in the vast universe and each reality had a different conclusion to their story, in some they might have never even met and led their lives contently without the knowledge of other.

Probably in another, they fell in love at first sight and never parted or maybe they did meet but their feelings never surpassed the platonic line. She slightly frowned at the idea that perhaps in a few they did fall in love but the time hadn’t been right and they didn’t end up together.

“Mama!” Leon called out, Lance had finally put their dizzy toddler down and now he was running with full speed towards her. Katie slightly toppled as Leon crashed into her legs and urged her to pick him up.

She dutifully did so and then showered his face with kisses. Leon giggled with delight but the excitement didn’t last long for his eyes had now started to grow heavy and the familiar scent of his mother was lulling him to sleep, Leon wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck and a few moments later he was fast asleep.

Lance immediately came over to her side offering to take Leon from her. She softly smiled and shook her head assuring him that despite her exhaustion she could carry her boy.

After tucking Leon into bed, the couple quietly walked out of the room. Lance reached out and engulfed his wife in a needy hug,“ I missed you so much. One month is too long ” he pouted referring to his recent mission from which he had just returned.

“I gotta say I am surprised that you didn’t immediately come over to my lab after landing maybe becoming the Head pilot changes people” she teased and Lance further pouted still holding her firmly in his arms.

“I was just coming over to your lab when Iverson stopped me and asked me to give report of the mission. I swear that man is plain evil, he purposely stopped me from seeing you!” Lance declared and Katie shook her head.

“You’re forgetting, it’s only because of Iverson we met in the first place. Who the heck is Pidge Gunderson?” she reminded and Lance softly smiled, kissing the top of her head.

His eyes fell on their wedding rings and he sighed in contentment for out of all the billions of possible realities that existed. They managed to exist in the one where despite the internal conflicts, mistakes and uncertainties they had to go through they had finally found true happiness.

“My wife” he proudly replied.

Thank you for everyone who read this! I hope you enjoyed it and please reblog if you did and tell me your favorite moment. Thank you @artemisarya for letting me borrow Leon for the ending.

#soft plance #plance #pidge gunderson #post season 8 #canon divergence #fix it fic #plangst #lance mcclain #keith kogane #vld shiro #rainforest #pigance #katie holt #voltron hunk #flirty robot #leon

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owlinaminor · 5 years ago

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[”you fight good.”]

taz amnesty spoilers // amnesty finale spoilers // amnesty ep 36

I fully love and respect justin’s choices, but like, death of the author, it brings me great joy to imagine minerva as a lesbian and so, to me, she is a lesbian.

or, this was basically a prompt from me to me. I couldn’t sleep until I wrote it.

“MADELINE COBB!”

Madeline turns. She’s practically asleep on her feet, room spinning faintly, fluorescent light over Duck’s kitchen table going fuzzy—something about getting rescued from an FBI compound and then thrown into an intergalactic battle for your planet will do that to ya—but the voice pulls her, like magnets, like gravity. It’s a deep voice, Minerva’s got. A voice that rises from her toes, or from the very core of the Earth.

And so she turns—of course she turns, pivots on one heel and then the other, faces the shadows of Duck’s living room, the empty beer bottles and pizza boxes from their impromptu party, the deeper shadow of Minerva, standing, smiling bright in the reflected moonlight through the windows, her head nearly brushing the ceiling. It makes Madeline dizzy just looking at her.

“Madeline Cobb,” Minerva repeats, softer this time. Duck has been teaching her about dynamics, he said between drinks, between bouts of laughter. Something about old jazz records. She wants to learn the trombone.

“Yeah?” Madeline replies.

Minerva takes a step forward and raises one hand, as though drawing a sword. Her sword is sheathed, propped up against Duck’s coat rack, sitting quiet among the uniform jackets and the ranger hats, so she must be reaching for something else. A ghost, maybe, or a piece of courage. Madeline bends her knees in response, just slightly. Lowers her center of gravity. They fought together like this, a few hours ago or a million years ago, Minerva all fluid motion and Madeline planted firmly, the kind of lever and fulcrum that could move galaxies or at least one fucking maniacal spaceship. A few hours ago or a million years ago. God. She’s asleep on her feet but one motion in the wrong direction and Minerva could be back there, just outside herself, arms taut and lungs heaving.

And then Minerva says, “Have you seen the movie Disney’s Mulan, Madeline Cobb?”

Madeline pauses. Straightens. Considers. “I think so,” she says. “I’m a little old for it, but in college I used to babysit—” Those kids in Providence, yeah, they always had fresh oranges in the apartment and she’d let them stay up just enough past their bedtime that they were sound asleep when their parents got back. Yeah. “Yeah. I’ve seen it. Why?”

Minerva grins, baring her teeth in an expression Madeline almost recognizes—like the expression she wore on the spaceship, spinning through enemies, only softer. Dynamics, Duck said. She’s learning about dynamics. Forte to mezzo-forte, piano for emphasis.

“You fight good,” Minerva says.

She says it, and then she lifts one hand to her hip. Almost as though she’s holding her breath. As though this was something monumental, heavy. Like a gate opening.

Madeline isn’t sure how to respond.

“It’s—it’s a line from the movie,” Minerva goes on, filling the space and shrinking somehow, as though—as though Madeline has made her nervous somehow, imagine that, maybe she’s still got it. “Mulan has just saved her country, very noble, and Li Shang says to her, you fight good. When we watched it, Duck said that was flirting. Is it flirting? I wanted flirting.”

And maybe it’s because Madeline is still dizzy with the past few hours or few hundred years—the freedom, the finality—or maybe she’s just dizzy with this, a tall woman in Duck Newton’s living room, standing like a redwood with whole civilizations growing in her ribs—maybe she just wants to touch, to see if Minerva vibrates on her frequency. Maybe it’s none of those things. The only finality of it is this: Madeline walks forward, five steps, and leans up, and presses a kiss to Minerva’s cheek.

Minerva’s skin is warm. And she is tall, booming, but easily caught: easy enough for her to shift, kiss Madeline properly. As though this is a new kind of weight. As though this is why they saved the world.

“Was that flirting?” Minerva asks, when they come up for air.

And Madeline laughs, and laughs, and says yes.

send me taz amnesty prompts!!! finale stuff is ALL FAIR GAME.

#taz amnesty spoilers #taz amnesty finale #taz amnesty fic #taz amnesty #taz minerva #taz mama #mama/minerva #taz #writing #fanfic #betsy does amnesty prompts #seriously no disrespect to justin -- the more i think about it im coming around to d/m #it's just not for me #THAT FINALE THOUGH. YEESH. SO MUCH TO THINK ABOUT.

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lovehaswonangelnumbers · 5 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/message-to-lightworkers-april-3rd-2020-the-444-gateway/

Message to Lightworkers, April 3rd 2020 ~ The 444 Gateway

FCGCT Commentary: Wants, Needs, Desires, are aspects of the mind, not the Soul. We are moving from desires, to passions and intentions of the Heart. The mind blocks this connection. Feel, Focus and Trust within the Heart.

Message to Lightworkers, April 3rd 2020 ~ The 444 Gateway

By Caroline Oceana Ryan

This week’s guidance from the Ascended Masters, Galactics, Earth Elementals, Fae Elders, Angelic legions, and Archangels known as the Collective:

Greetings, friends! We are very pleased to have this time to speak with you today.

We speak today on the 4-4-2020 gateway, which is a beautiful entry for your world and your inner selves, to a higher form of living.

We are aware that many forms of change have been flowing to you over the past year or more, as you move increasingly into that phase which is more emblematic of the changeover into the age of the Aquarian, as you move out of the Piscean age.

You move now also into the Sat Yuga, the era you have long awaited in many Earth lives.

Know that you have come to Earth at this time specifically to be part of this changeover from the Kali Yuga, the 25,800-year cycle of the age of destruction, to an age of peace, prosperity, restoration, and wholeness.

The Kali is not necessarily an energy of utter loss or destruction, for the crumbling and dissolution of the old era had to occur before the new one could begin to root itself into your outer and inner reality.

Often what appears to be a loss—a sudden uprooting, or the dissolution of an old situation—is quietly serving a higher purpose.

And so all phases, all seasons in the Universe and in your life serve their sacred purpose, and deserve your honoring of them, though of course some feel harder to navigate on an Earthly level than others.

Photo by Sherri Bausch

This particular portal that you enter on April 4 of this year is one illumined by an energy that will open your inner conscious Seeing more fully, lifting it to a higher level.

You will be increasingly capable now of seeing what you could not see or fathom in the past, except in your sleep state or other altered perception.

You will begin to sense and feel more clearly how energy works in everyday situations, and how it flows universally.

You will come to understand more completely what emotions and expectations create more good in life, and which do not.

And you will increasingly see a greater integration of your own higher purpose and soul-level existence into everyday life than you experienced previously.

This is because this particular portal or gateway is one that affects your subconscious and etheric energies in ways that empower them to help you more consciously remember Who you are—Who you always are, whether you are in an Earth life or in the etheric.

This opens the way for old illusions to pass, as old misunderstandings, grudges, and losses, which the ego-mind has used to define itself, increasingly fall away in favor of an inner-standing in which you increasingly see how Earth life works in conjunction with your soul’s desire for growth, wisdom, and higher Love.

This can lead to a number of things.

It can lead to less resistance to Earth matters, including those situations which you have felt were difficult or unfortunate for you or others to experience.

It can mean increased memory of past lives and the old wounds you still need to heal, old contracts that must now be dissolved and ended for all time-space.

It can lead to increased sensing of intergalactic and Angelic presences.

And an increased understanding of Earth processes, including the healing and detoxification She is currently undergoing.

And it can lead to an increased understanding of the 3D dynamic amongst humans, which has been characterized as contentious and chaotic for so long.

Photo by Meta Cerar

Why has this particular portal opened at this time?

For one, moon and planetary conjunctions and configurations have called it forward, in addition to Earth’s own place in your solar system shifting in vibration and therefore, in experience.

For another, you have called it forth, speaking as soul groups with planetary souls, and requesting certain forms of assistance from those you are able to work with for the further Ascension of your planet and Universe.

We would say, do not feel that these shifts will be painful or bring even more pressure and uncertainty into your lives, for the survival aspect of the old human construct may well wonder if that is the case.

Instead, accept that these changes have come because you are ready for them.

Because you have learned all you could learn, seen all you needed to see of the forms of struggle, loss, and conflict experienced by human beings for hundreds of Earth lives.

So that now you are ready to move beyond, and move ahead of where you have lived before now while in a human body.

“Does this make me an intergalactic human?” you may ask.

“A traveler of time and space, whose planet is ready to join the Intergalactic Confederation of Worlds? An emissary of new life for a New Earth?”

Most assuredly, you have come forward for such, and have long ago claimed those roles as some of your reasons for being on the planet at this time.

And now, we would say, make complete your other roles, as you move into this new and unprecedented phase of Earth life.

Have a look at your daily habits, thoughtforms, relationships, emotional resonance, and spiritual practices (though one could say that that is all of these).

Step back a bit, and look at them objectively, asking if any of these are part of the new life, or typical of the old one, however progressive that may have seemed in some ways.

Perhaps there is some housecleaning (outer or inner) that can be done, to release the illusions which the ego loves to draw round itself as a protective covering.

Or some old bit of training from family, culture, or education that has stuck with you, despite your dislike of it, and which manages to influence you in quiet ways even to this day.

Ask your Spirit team for guidance here, for they will offer it, and so will all of us.

Photo by C.O. Ryan

As you take on what some call the New Human form, outlook, and resonance, there are many things that will no longer suit you, as if you had just gone from using one very outdated computer to the latest highly functional one.

Or moved from a diet of processed grains, meats, and sweets to a far cleaner one of fresh fruits, water, raw vegetables, and time in Nature.

You will be surprised at the ease of some of this transition, while at other times, the left-brain will stop to question you as if you have no right to change things.

We assure you, this is not a question of rights, for you have taken back full rights of your individual life, soul, and consciousness.

Let it know that “All is well,” and carry on with those shifts that in many ways, will feel more natural and reassuring to you now than the old forms ever did.

Your body as well may express some surprise at eating lighter now, drinking more water, going to sleep earlier, needing quiet and meditation more often, without the stimulation of internet or television.

Be patient with these shifts, for they demonstrate not that something is wrong, but that your overall life energies have shifted to a level they have long desired, without knowing it.

You have desired mastery, and are stepping into it now.

Will you accept it, dear ones? Will you open arms wide to knowing Who you are, in the sense of all the interconnected Oneness that can never separate, never be done, always ring with the soul-grounding note of what is Truth for your path?

We are present with you in all of these transitions, as your mainly etheric family who are part of what you experience now.

This is so, though you are the brave ones at the front of that scouting party that has gone ahead to establish the lay of the land before many millions of others follow.

And so it is.

Namaste, dear ones! We are with you, and we assure you, All is Most Well.

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volatilepersonality · 5 years ago

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REPOST, DO NOT REBLOG AND DO NOT DELETE THE FOLLOWING INFORMATION.

The following quotes and phrases are taken from the stories in Thomas Ligotti’s anthology Songs of a Dead Dreamer. Some of these quotes were slightly tweaked for the sake of this meme. If you enjoy the imagery or writing in this meme, please support the author by purchasing his work. Content warnings for horror in general and brief mentions of blood, nihilism, unreality, mannequins, dolls, puppets, and some body horror.

Bold what applies to your muse.

Muse: (If you are a multimuse blog, specify what muse you are filling this out for.) Tagged by: stolen from @suisosei Tagging: @tuneback @duplikiss @crepcscolo @resolvebled @unzipswig @fatebond @stxrspin @myentropy

The Frolic

Absolute madness paired with a sharp cunning / an expression of sky-blue peacefulness / the indistinct happiness of the future / a piece of moon above the opulent leafage of spring trees / a broken-down kingdom of miracles and horrors / a Neverland where dizzy chaos is the norm / a cosmos of crooked houses and littered alleys / a slum among the stars / a jolly river of refuse / jagged heaps in shadows / a phantasmagoric mingling of heaven and hell / a moonlit corridor where mirrors scream and laugh / dreamy back-drops / ice cubes in an empty glass / shifting expressions on a lean face / vague suggestions and subtle jokes / an Aphrodite sculpture / the wind, cold and dead / a crumbled piece of paper / black-foaming gutters / the dank windowless gloom of some intergalactic cellar / starless cities of insanity / a bright freezing scream of laughter / a passing anecdote of some obscure hell

Les Fleurs

sorrowful flowers / lilting blossoms for a loved one’s memorial / a florist shop / flowers which open only at night / a hothouse warm smile / night-blooming cereuses / a sleek ocelot / well-preserved old places / plants resembling birds / white picket fences / flower-printed curtains / liqueur tasting of flowers from open fields / cool, clean offices / invisible wings whipping the warm air in darkness / the sounds of black orchids growing / the flower-bedded earth / a ripple of empathetic insight / a gorgeous kingdom of glittering colors / velvety jungle-shapes / contorted rainbows and twisted auroras / hyper-radiant hues / a marvelous arcana / tongue-like floral appendages / tongues flowering

Alice’s Last Adventure

Volatile years when anything might go wrong / the embodiment of topsy-turvydom / pools of rainwater / tarnished mirrors / moonlit windows / a thousand misshapen marvels / a universe handed over to new gods / stoic tolerance of a second-rate reality / two complete strangers gawking at each other / a shiny, pearl-grey casket / black orchids / a strange combination of relief and confusion / a delayed echo with oblique origins / a chain of occurrences with links as weak as smoke rings / a sunny autumn morning / a sense of duty, vanity, and other less comprehensible motives / the seas of the moon / costumed kids / the cries of bedlamites / the clamor of rambunctious kids / a half-cocked oration / jack-o’-lanterns glowing orange and yellow / masked children / a plastic cup of cider / shadows wavering against two-story facades / a lamp with a shade of Tiffany glass / a disciple of the bizarre / an autumn moon hanging in the blackness / demonic giggling / the moon / a clock / shadows in the window

Dream of a Manikin

A mostly tacit but somehow complete biography / a marvelous trick of the mind / jeweled lamps along the walls / lights shining on an intricately patterned carpet and various pieces of old furniture / star-clustered blackness / a starry abyss / an iciness drifting in from a starscape / a horrible truth / a legend written somewhere at the bottom of a dream / echoing voices bouncing here and there around the room / a motto printed on fortune cookie-like strips of paper and hidden in bureau drawers / a broken record repeating itself on an ancient Victrola / an alighting flock of birds / a field of dynamic tension / a dry sibilant voice / people dressed as dolls / shaking with tremors of the uncanny / a manikin dresser / astral ambience / occult studies and depth analysis / delving into speculative models of reality / cosmic static / harassments of the self / the boundaries of the self / a Bigger Self terrorizing its little splinter selves / cosmic ennui / a serendipitous discovery / this dream of flesh / guilty until proven otherwise / valerian and camphor baths / cryptic impudence / softly glowing display windows / the divine bonds of unreality / a medium-intensity shower / display-window dummies / rain-spotted glasses / a car with rain-blinded windows / a moment of self-terror / the mythical conspiracy of a treacherous universe / a galaxy of constellations/ a vaporous glowing / a whitened hallway / dolls made up to look like people / eyes shining in the white darkness / a powerful psychic metaphor

The Chymist

Daydreaming in the key of Rosicrucianism / bubblegum and beer / a chalice in a church / a serum vial in a laboratory / the tartness of one’s smile / a very keen appreciation of diversity / decrepitude / the withering heart of the deceased / bastardized nostalgia / the putrescence of things past / arching mirrors / chrome chandeliers / second-hand fantasies and out-of-date distractions / one strange thing next to another / a genius of vulgarity / a lawless paradise / violence without violation / a smoke-gray sky / city-soiled clumps of snow / fluxing clouds that swirl above the chimneys and trees / alchemical transmutations / the glamour and sanity of former days / a new mask of rats and rot / a hopeless stroll along the path to hypothetically higher worlds / a body whose true outline remains unknown / the whims of chemistry / the caprices of circumstance / the enigma of personal taste / a leather vessel with a void inside / the skeleton of a dream / lights outlining the different venues and avenues below / a bottle of powdered light / pulverized diamonds / the flesh and blood kaleidoscope of one’s imagination / a prodigious insurrection of entity / a tempest of transfiguration

Drink to Me Only with Labyrinthine Eyes

The full powers of a master hypnotist / a mesmeric wilderness / marked by fate’s stigmata / crystal twinkling under a chandelier’s kaleidoscopic blaze / power and prestige socializing / a pair of metronomes / a glossy black cabinet / two bluish gems in an alabaster setting / a tiny sequined outfit / mesmeric stunts / intact and unbloodied / routines in defiance of death and pain / a jaw-dropping finale / a blare of heavenly horns / a labyrinth of light / a gossamer veil / snow-white wings / the angelic luminary beneath the human beast / the eyes of the audience / mock-death and bogus-pain / sinking deep into a downy darkness / pillows stuffed with soft shadows / a sun at the center of a drab galaxy / vacant and full of grace / a business card with a cloud-gray pearl finish/ riotous rococo / a chair of blinding brocade / flowery fabric / a shelf of delicate figurines / tall smoky mirrors / a bottomless pool / a sky wiped clean of clouds / dispassionate elegance / postures and poses like frozen roses / pajama-clad legs dangling /a shiny chrome-plated pen / a very soft but not condescending tone / a mazy wallflower / cartwheels of agony / somersaults through fires of doom / nosedives of vulnerable flesh into the meat grinder of life / serene constellations / sweet nullities / a spell-binding, snake-eyed charmer / high society vulgarians / eyes recessed in their sockets, sunken into a rotting profundity / labyrinthine depths / dancing clothes all clotted with putrescent goo

Eye of the Lynx

Missing girls in Gothic garb / amber going on red / a reddish haze / a crazy purpurean tapestry / a fair-haired girl / denim slacks and a leather jacket / bloody moonlight / a long sip from a can of iced tea /persecutions and imperilments as glamorous as those of any Gothic heroine / violet eyes / the machinations of an evil-hearted malefactor /haunting second-hand shops / a strip of dark velvet seized by a pearl brooch / a frail chain from which dangles a heart-shaped locket / a whirlpooling lock of golden hair / gloves, long and powdery pale / the shoulders of heavy capes lined in satin that shines like a black sun / enveloping hoods / capes with deep pockets and generous inner pouches for secreting precious souvenirs / capes with silk strings that tie about the neck / capes with weighted hems that nonetheless flutter weightlessly in midnight gusts / doll-size in a dark doll’s costume / quivering bones and feverish blood / fear’s funereal plume / carriage wheels rioting in a lavender mist or a pearly fog / nacreous fires twitching beyond the margins of country roads / cliffs and stars / a blur of crimson shadows / vast regions of sublime desolation / mountains hulking in hazy twilight / a rather large animal collar at the end of a chain leash / a light the color of fresh meat / a page in a depraved story book / a single candle glowing through red glass / little zippers and big zippers / a moth-eaten cloak / enthralling cruelties / spangled eyebrows / a brow of glittering silver / glistening with tiny flecks of starlight / the velvet embrace of one’s favorite cape / the tall candles one lights on stormy nights / chains of raindrops whipping against one’s windows / places where raging storms and brutal subjugations never end / the hardships of traveling to strange faraway places / frail little dolls / wild-wind nights and sadistic villains / corridors of scarlet darkness / a captive of one’s heart and its infinite chambers

Notes on the Writing of Horror: A Story

Something magical / something timeless / something profound / a sooty basement / the putrid members of a man who is decomposing / a plain brown package marked Hope, Love, or Fortune Cookies and postmarked: the Edge of the Unknown / a helter-skelter universe where things are ever threatening to go abnormal and unreal / a normal, real love / impermanence and decay / evils sent out under various covers / sublime and terrifying conflict / fearsome, fantastical, and inhuman / moon-trimmed shadows / lunar landscapes of craggy peaks / skeletal wastelands of jagged ice / a brooding Gothic hero / an ethereal Gothic heroine / a castle-like skyscraper / an extra dose of obsessiveness / the Gothic tale / a militant romantic / waves of bombast / winds of ecstatic hysteria / a partially shattered window, its surface streaked with a blue film of dust / a sublime sense of desolation / the diluted glow of twilight / night’s enveloping cloak / grimy azure dimness / bluish semi-luminescence / tears of confusion / turquoise haze / blue shadows of silence / liquefying legs / an old storyteller / the voice of a tiny insect crying for help from inside a sealed coffin / a piercing, crystal shriek that lacerates the midnight blackness / a haunter of spectral marketplaces / Gothic glory / a horror writer / an ardent consumer of the abnormal and the unreal / a visitant of discount houses of unreality / subject only to the rule of demonic forces / puppet-shadows / a hell so excruciating it is bliss itself / bony wings rising out of one’s back / jaws that are a cavern of dripping silver / rivers of putrescent gold running through one’s veins

The Christmas Eves of Aunt Elsie

Diamond-paned windows / a thick December fog / a serene congregation of colors / holly, both fresh and artificial / a pale purple ribbon / a ritual forever reenacted without hope of escape / a large chair beside a fogged window / crackling logs / a foggy winter’s night / bright Christmas lights shining through the fog / always dead with darkness / always alive with lights

The Lost Art of Twilight

A streak of iodine red / a spattering of flat black / the early autumn sun / silver hair / a gray suit / a long envelope, neatly cesareaned / the charnel house creeps / a silver shield / crepuscular radiance / an offspring of the dead / the progeny of phantoms / the big green eye of an EEG monitor / De Plancy’s Dictionnaire infernal / a rainbow of insects / the science of superstition / the Provencal countryside / a pantheon of gargoyles amid the splendor of a medieval church / a holy soldier of the living / a monster of the dead / the astral banquet of Art / the rotting flesh of rainbows / the sonar screech of a bat / vampiric origins / the oncoming onyx of a storm / shadows and sunshine / glare and gloom / bright clouds and black / iron-red leaves / tentative drops of rain / blue bears and yellow rabbits / neither a blood-warm human nor a blood-drawing devil / oceans of blood / the ravenous life of the undead / an authoritative impatience / eternal life in an eternal death

The Troubles of Dr. Thoss

Pale gray pajamas / thick sheets of paper / a bottle of black ink / a shapely black pen with a silvery nib / strands of blond hair, almost white / a sudden salty breeze / silhouettes and shadows / unreflecting windows / metal hinges squeaking somewhere in the wind / a sleepless night /constellations beyond the window panes / star-filled hours / the pure whiteness of the page / a flung shoe leaning toe-up against a bedpost / nothingness unstained by inner conception / white snow in a white sky /dark lines and vacant spaces / vast expanses of frozen whiteness / a church in a foreign town / assorted devils and demons / ice-mad mountains / a spirit of malicious abandon / nightmarish anatomies / a sickle-shaped scar of moon / sea-licked shores / dark letters / feeding one’s troubles to the sea / brown-leafed trees / a forest of memorials / clumps of crosses / groves of gravestones / dark, cowl-shaped windows / unblemished by shadows / the sound of crashing waves / bending dawns into twilights / static from a broken radio / breaking waves / seaside air/ a gleaming crescent moon / a bone-white cicatrix / chronic insomnia / a blade of moon / white night, white noise

Masquerade of a Dead Sword: A Tragedie

The confusions of carnival night / gyrations of squealing abandon / lines between pain and pleasure / a rainbow of rags / a startling length of blade / pale pages elegantly dappled by somber verses / a pair of strangely darkened spectacles / the toneless voice of one who is dead to all appeasement or mercy / mounds of snow that had been sown with ashes / eyes as dark and swirled with shadows as the raving night itself / a constellation of designs / mad games of flesh and steel / a forbidden madness / dense forests of tall pikes planted in the earth / shadows rolling in empty sockets / lacerated mouths / the darkness of dreams / to see the world drown in oceans of agony / visions of butchering the angels / a god of deceit or illusion / chaos at feast / black with scars of madness / darkly clouded glass / the brightest and highest of stars / shimmering halls / unnaturally colored wine / red-smeared forms / many-taloned claws / the velvet fingers of a tightly gloved hand / a pair of leviathan leeches / a lord of the sword made mad / the dark powers which we cannot understand but only hate / rhapsodic voices in the streets / a privileged doom / the face of the soul of the world / the cool marble of the floor / an onyx-black knight / a face flushed with crimson glory

Dr. Voke and Mr. Veech

A scribble of lightning engraved upon a black sky / a long, brightly colored coat / noisy jets of blue-green light flickering spasmodically / life-size dolls hanging suspended by wires / wetted strands of a spider web / shiny satin legs / a beautifully pale hand / pulverized stars / dismembered limbs of dolls and puppets / the repose of ruin / an oily red glare / a well-dressed dummy / a white high-collar shirt with silver cufflinks / a billowing cravat which displays a pattern of moons and stars / wood waking up / a sleep that should have never been broken / something too painful for tears / the false fire of the moon / two faces sharing a single head / faint, hollow screams from high above / a dummy’s silence / leftover tears of berserk laughter / bluish-green irradiance

Professor Nobody’s Little Lectures on Supernatural Horror

Mist on a lake / fog in thick woods / a golden light shining on wet stones / a little trickle of suspicion in the bloodstream / the solar brilliance of a summer day / supernatural horror / a corner alive with cool drafts and fragrant with centuries of must / a rancid world rife with things smelling of the crypt / a sower of vice / mad winds / wan moonlight / pasty specters / the vividness of pain / the lasting effects of fear / natural-born puppets whose lips are stained with their own blood / dead bodies that walk in the night / living bodies suddenly possessed by new owners and deadly aspirations / the sepulchral pomp of wasting tissue / compassion for human hurt / a humble sense of one’s impermanence / an absolute valuation of justice / a demented innocence in the face of gruesome facts / the horrific reprisals of affirmation / the Cosmic Macabre / the shudders of a thousand graveyards

Dr. Locrian’s Asylum

Gray walls pocked like sponges / nights of futile tears and screaming / an expression of almost paternal forgiveness / the supreme delirium of the planets / bright puppets dancing in the blackness / a golden speck of magic / the silent, staring universe / something as pathetic as a puppet and as exalted as the stars / something at once dead and never dying / autumn constellations in the black sky above / harshly brilliant eyes / the remote places where truth had been shut up and abandoned

The Sect of the Idiot

Extraordinary joy / extraordinary pain / the great hollow of dreams / an infinitely secluded place / a world that both menaces and surpasses this one / a holy madness / infinite stillness on foggy mornings / miracles of silence on indolent afternoons / the strangely flickering tableau of neverending nights / deceptive depths of shadow / heaps of clouds like dust balls / a fluorescent map of the cosmos / medieval autumns and mute winters / kaleidoscopic windows / a kind of cataclysm of empty space / an earthquake of the invisible / strikingly clear eyes / a dusty trunk of dreams / a maze of streets / an abyss of stars / a great reaching blackness / a stale gray dimness / an alien order of being / an icy blackness / starry blackness / a great round moon / deep aquatic blue / the voids of astronomy / a state of both paralyzed terror and spellbound curiosity / whispering figures / stagnant moonlight / withered, wilted claws / drooping tentacles / the spinning legs of spiders / the greedy rubbing of a fly’s spindly feelers / the darting tongues of snakes / the triumph of the grotesque / whispering effigies of chaos / putrid arcana / an ecstatic horror / horrific ecstasy / the demonic elements of which all creation is composed / corruption in disguise / a cache of unwonted offerings stored out of sight / currents of fear / dark tremors / splendid scenes broken with malign shadows / the lurid and the lovely forever lost in each other’s embrace / the arch of an old street / tunnel-like hallways / sickly light shining through unwashed, curtainless windows / atmospherics of infinite melancholy and unease / a decayed paradise / the everlasting residue of some cosmic misfortune / a solemn, mechanical intentness / a smooth and solid cube of black glass / a malignant puppet of madness / dazed in darkness / embarrassed throat-clearings / reproving looks / words which could only have meaning in a nightmare / a thing of strange degeneracy / a quintessence of hellish delirium / freakish, echoing laughter / the whispering of strangers / twitching tentacles / a horror which cannot be helped

The Greater Festival of Masks

The old and new / the real and imaginary / truth and deception / shops of costumes and masks / an incautious curiosity / shredded rags that are easily disturbed by the wind / a poster stuck to a crumbling wall / strange pathways of caprice / the outsized moon / silvery windows / doors which are elaborately decorated yet will not budge in their frames / massive shutters covering blank walls behind them / faces of dreams /sardonically grinning / innocence and excuses / a reddish glow of fire / a wad of bubbling blackness / smooth and faceless faces / the speaker in the shadows / the soft creaking of new faces breaking through old flesh

The Music of the Moon

Breaking the quiet of a moonlit room / enchantments that nearly make amends for one’s stolen slumber / some unusual shape leaping across steep roofs / a bewildering agility / many nights of sleepless hell / a knife / rope / a poison vial / an exploit of uncommon decisiveness / blank nights of insomnia / a handbill / ashes mixed with grease / a door with a faint yellow aura leaking out at its edges / small, shadowlike things moving in corners and along the floor molding / a quartet of musicians / a voice which sounds both exhausted and malicious / pale, ragged clouds of hair / sonic abnormality / an empty shaft of blackness / spherical lamps caked with dust / the silence of a dark, lifeless world / black silhouettes of human heads visible only in the moonlight / slow music in the soft darkness / a single note wavering in a universe of darkness / a incalculable proliferation of slightly dissonant harmony / the light of a quiet gray dawn / completely helpless, and yet content to be so / thick layers of webs / gazing at nothing with bleeding sockets / the moon all fat and pale, glaring down from its gauzy webs of clouds

The Journal of J.P. Drapeau

Unstained by any habits of the human / the ideal of everything alien to living / some molding backwater of the earth / the city of Bruges itself / a corpse of the Middle Ages / bony bridges / the black veins of old canals / a lonely evolution in shadowed streets and beside sluggish canals /the music of graveyards / a resonant chorus that fills the air and sometimes drowns out the voices of those who still live / layers of cobwebs floating about the near ceiling / a burst of resistance / the pealing of church bells / the language of whimsy / the force of stars tugging away at various points / the dark waters of a canal / shiny black hair parted straight down the middle / a low table covered by a red velvet cloth / a world that applauds trumped-up illusions while denying or demeaning those that create the very lives they are living / a spectral thing full of strange suggestion / an untenanted room filled with the echoes of nothingness / the eyes of certain crudely fashioned dolls / a greenish glow from a mirror /placid meandering canals / enwrapped in mist / close crumbling houses / odd arching bridges / innumerable church towers / narrow twisting streets / queer little courtyards / everything gone forever / an empty mist / an eternal twilight

Vastarien

Candles in a cloistered cell / shapes beneath the shadows / tall buildings whose rooftops nod groundward / wide buildings whose facades follow the curve of a street / buildings whose windows and doorways tilt like badly hung paintings / stairways that wander off-course into useless places / caged elevators that urge unwanted stops on their passengers / a sequestered civilization of echoes flourishing among groaning walls / thin ladders ascending into a maze of shafts and conduits / the dark valves and arteries of a petrified and monstrous organism / a desolate serenity / silvery cinders / the mouths of great chimneys / shadow-puppets / cluttered gardens and crooked gates / the purling waters of black canals / faded masks concealing profound schemes / a place of supernatural clarity and stillness / the crystalline glare of a lantern / moonlight through a curtained window / darkened windows / souls who believe that the only value of this world lies in its power—at certain times— to suggest another / a scattering of stars and lights / a coveted paradise / the most gauzy phantom of another place / a shadowy mimic / the anatomy of a great dream / everlasting echoes / a rectangle of smudged glass within another rectangle of scuffed wood / crowded shelves / remnants of a luxuriant autumn / an obscene reality / to dwell among the ruins of reality / shadowed volumes / scripture that would begin with the portents of apocalypse and end with the wreck of all creation / to become the wind in the dead of winter / to howl the undoing of all that would abide in warmth and light / an enticing verse in a volume of esoterica / the dream of attaining some untainted good / a disastrous enlightenment / some hypothetical state of pure glory / the revelation that nothing ever known has ended in glory / some strictly demonic enterprise / something about one’s presence that makes one think of a crow / a scavenging creature in wait / a large, two-headed shadow / the sad frustration of the uninvited, the abandoned / the brilliant rectangle of a doorway / hopes and curiosities of an indeterminable kind / free-standing bookcases / pages and bindings of uncommon texture /abstract diagrams suggesting no orthodox ritual or occult system / a chronicle of strange dreams / an invocation of a world in waiting of genesis / days distilled into dreams and nights into nightmares / a deliverance by damnation / nightmare made normal / a horror uncompromised by any feeling of lost joy or a thwarted searching for the good / a nightmare transformed in spirit by the utter absence of refuge / a utopia of exhaustion, confusion, and debris / a dialogue of mystification, and possibly one of lies / the edge of a dreamless void / a dark and devouring bird / shadows and moonlight / an unbending web of heavy wire / unjust confinement / a slender syringe crowned with a silvery needle

#history worn on skin for all to see (headcanon)#this took forever and i'm beat

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