#also had no training for withstanding torture

[therulerofallpotatos]

Seeing S1 apocalypse and S2 apocalypse be treated like they're 1:1 is so frustrating sometimes. Like. We can speculate on how aware Viktor was in S1 during the theatre incident and how it was causing the end of the world but no matter what you decide is the answer to that question, it is not anywhere near the same as being tortured by the government, high off LSD, and blowing up a building so you can fuck off somewhere that won't torture you and drop LSD in your system. I wouldn't hold it against anyone to lose control and snap like that in those conditions. Viktor didn't even use his powers to do more than blow up a building. It was all politics after that. Viktor didn't decide to throw around nukes.

Im just saying, the theatre incident is not the same situation as actively being tortured. Like Luther wouldn't break a wall and maybe some necks in the same chair. Or Five panic blinking somewhere/when without aiming properly. Or Allison bending reality in an unpredictable way to just make them stop.

[eggtartz]

✧ 31st October ✧

Simon 'Ghost' Riley // Blinded (f! sergeant reader)

kinktober masterlist

warnings : roleplay sex, handjob, fingering, blindfold, a tad of voice kink, dominant ghost

"focus sergeant" you flinched, a snap of fingers barely heard by your left ear. this was torture, you've been edged for an hour now. "you're drifting again, horrible focus" the gruff voice hissed as you bit your lip. your vision was completely black as you try again, searching exactly where the sound is coming from behind the blindfold "simon? i know-" he sighs "it's lieutenant, soldier. it's unethical to call your superior by his name, no?" a tinge of anger is in his tone as well as challenging. a part of him challenges you to disobey more.

you gnawed on the insides of your cheek, speaking way more softer this time. "but lieutenant, it's getting cold" you frowned. ghost smiled behind his skull mask, holding your bare, naked legs which had cuts and scars due to intense training. he admires them, tracing them with his gloved hands. "i know sergeant but you need to guess where i'm coming from and you'll get your clothes back. i promise" he pats your clothed cunt as your breathing hitched.

"you can withstand edging for an hour. what more can an hour do, isn't that right?" he whispered. he pats your head as he grabbed your hair "also remember, you're not going to cum unless you say where exactly my voice is coming from. that voice you loved so much, remember it and engraved it in your head. understand?" you nodded "yes sir"

he smiled satisfyingly "good. we start again" he stepped back, moving towards your left. "where am i now, sergeant?" he asked as you took your time and turned where he was. "excellent" he started to take off his vest. "and where am i now?" he still asks despite leaving clear evidence as his location and direction is. he smiles, taking off badge and shirt. he pulls a chair, sitting on it as he guides your waist.

"good job. now, do you want a reward for that?" he asked by the shell of your ear. you nodded vigorously and intended to take off the blindfold until he prevented you. "the blindfold stays on. focus on me" he says again, circling your hips as he bought his chest to your back. he hummed, pressing his erection to your ass. it was clear as day what exactly that turns you on is his voice and what turns him on is your obedience.

it's a win-win situation.

he grinds himself on you as he slowly unzips his pants, pulling it down. you recognized the sound of a chair screeching as he sat on it, bringing you to swing your legs between his. "tell me what you want, sergeant." he lifted his mask, a scar on his lips as he kissed the valley of your breasts tenderly "y-you, lieutenant.. i want you.." you stammered. ghost chuckled, finding the reaction adorable and a turn on in the same time. he guides your hand into his bigger ones, entwining the callous fingers of the both of you as he bought your hand to his waiting cock.

you smiled at the feeling of the organ, the skin of the slit and the oozing precum coming out from it. a little squeeze and you can feel every vein, using your imagination you can see how his tip is slightly curved in a full out erection. you could see his tense balls, and how eager he looks like under that mask of his. ghost hissed when your thumb circled his tip as his fingers went to find your glistening cunt. you gasped as you pumped his erection while he did a favor and thrusted his fingers inside.

it didn't took long as went harder and his fingers plunged in deeper as you found yourself indulging into each other's fantasies and lust. ghost growls, lifting your body to lay on the concrete floor. "fucking hell, i can't just sit here and not fuck you" he hissed, ripping your underwear as the head of his dick greeted your slick folds. you groaned, without the sense of sight suddenly all of your senses enlightened and now everything feels much better than it usually have.

you were knocked out from your breath as ghost made one thrust, burying balls deep into your pussy. he had to stiffle a grunt because your warm pussy and the way your muscles pulsed around his dick was going to send him into insanity. "lieutenant.. please move.. do it please.." you sense his nonexistent movement as he was recollecting himself. he lost all sense if judgement, thrusting into you like wild animals mating.

"is that what you want? what a slut, sleeping with her superior" he taunted although he doesn't mean them. he knows you get off to the idea.

you moaned, clenhicng yourself around him as he stopped again only to abruptly flip you over as he fucks you to the floor. he harshly pulls on your wrists and yanking off the blindfold "you should've seen yourself. basically drooling and babbling over my cock" he grunts. your pussy convulsed around the stretch of his girth, accommodating to his deep and too fast thrusts. you whined as one hand of his tapped your clit.

"n-no! sensitive!" you said but he quickly slaps your face with the same hand "disobeying orders from your superior? i wonder how you got that sergeant position when you can't do a simple fucking job" you moaned, closing your eyes shut as his heavy cock scraped your insides, molding it into the shape of his cock. you grew dizzy as he did more causal taps on your clit that send you squirting clear cum on the floor as you tensed, your hips wildly twitching.

"there we go. there we fucking go" the actions made him excited as he went deeper, knocking at the door of your entrance to give the best visit for the rest of your life. "shit! don't stop, don't stop!" you babbled nonsense as he blew your back, your muscly back flexing as you tensed and ghost drolled.

you looked so beautiful than ever and he was more than thankyou to had you like this. with a last grunt he pulled out to cum on your sweaty back, tapping the last remnants while squeezing his cock slightly. white subways decorated your back as he wipes them with his finger, putting them in your mouth as you lapped on it. ghost smiles in satisfaction.

"did you liked that?" he pulls you to sit up as you giggle, slumping over him. "yeah.. that's the best orgasm i ever had.. we should do it more" you said and kissed him, his hands securely placed on your back. he was glad you liked it.

you're his little sergeant after all.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Also dumb question

How would that call of duty characters fare on hot ones? How high can they get on the Scoville scale before they gotta tap out??

- 🔪

Using this scale as a guide:

The COD characters on Hot Ones

(This started out serious but devolved into pure jokes and slander)

Ghost, surprisingly, gets the furthest. I'd say he'd get around the Ghost pepper but would def get tears in his eyes and red in the face. In my mind, he's trained himself to withstand many kinds of 'torture' and that includes tricking his brain into not reacting to heat/pain receptors in his mouth.

Surprisingly (2.0), Nikolai. Not because Russians are particularly good with spice or because of stereotype, but because I'm 100% sure he'd handle a Habanero just fine. Something about him just screams it. Idk.

Gaz comes next. I'd say he can go up to Habaneros before he taps out. I hc that he was raised by immigrants and is used to spiced food, not just spicy, but well spiced too.

Alejandro after that. Might be me engaging a bit in stereotype but he, also, doesn't strike me as the kind of man that would eat bland food? Traditional Mexican food is well-seasoned and plenty spicy so... Cayenne-Thai levels.

Rudy fits here bc of the same reason as Alejandro. But he reacts worse, I feel like. In my mind, he gets red in the face and SWEATS when he's eating.

Price goes next and I blame that on the fact he's been all over the world for missions and deployments and probably has eaten food of all kinds, if nothing else just to experiment. That being said, he's definitely a wimp. Fits somewhere between Jalapeños and Cayenne peppers.

Farah and she's only this low because her country has been going through a revolt + she was in prison + she scavenged for food as a kid and I imagine she's not always had access to try super spicy food when surviving off rations. Fits somewhere between Jalapeños and Cayenne peppers but could definitely handle more if she had more opportunities to eat it more.

Laswell. I'm convinced she was a field agent for the CIA before becoming a handler and station chief. Aka, she was all over the world and ate all sort of things, just like Price. Fits somewhere between Jalapeños and Cayenne peppers.

Soap taps out the easiest on the 141 but he's still not really a wimp. He's just Scottish. Around the same level as Laswell, Price, etc.

Alex Keller comes next. He's white and American. Do I need to say more? I'd say he can handle a Jalapeño but will need loads of water and milk

Graves comes at the bottom of the fucking line. He's white, American and a yee-haw American at that. If Alex can handle a jalapeño, Graves can't handle yellow mustard out of the bottle.

[drenix004]

𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄

Soshiro Hoshina x Fem!Oc!

CHAPTER THREE

MASTERLIST | A.O | PR | CH.1 | CH.2 | CH.3

English is not my mother tongue, so there may be spelling errors. An apology for that in advance :D

The Jadees filled the room, much to Naomi's dissatisfaction, interrupting the silence that had reigned from the beginning of the lesson. The matriarch watched apathetically the quadrupeds suffering because of the almost always cruel training sessions to which he subjected them daily.

All four were standing on Split with 50 pounds of weight on their ankles. Their bodies trembled, especially their raised legs. His sweaty skin shone under the cold light of the room, and the sticky sensation added to his discomfort.

They had already been in the same position for two hours, and although they tried to stay firm, the exhaustion was too much. Their bodies were hurting; they felt a feeling of burning in each joint, which extended like a burning fire, without mercy consuming their muscles.

“Don’t let her down!” Naomi hit Ana's hip hard when her leg began to fall.

The blow of the metal vent against the skin caused the four to close their eyes, while the youngest endured the pain, preventing another sound from escaping from her mouth. I knew the blow would leave a very ugly mark in a few hours.

Liana was also trying to withstand, but the wounds on her legs from a previous punishment made it difficult for her to balance. Each move was additional torture, but she could not afford to show weakness in front of Naomi.

"Don't make me repeat the same thing," warned Naomi; her voice was sharp and cold as ice as she walked around them. His steps seemed not to be heard by normal ears, but they resonated.

The quadrupeds could feel and hear the wood twilight slightly with every step that the older albino took thanks to his developed ear; every step of Naomi was a reminder of the absolute power that she exercised over the girls. No one dared to challenge her; they knew the consequences too well. Their eyes remained fixed forward, fighting against pain and exhaustion, hoping that torture would soon end.

“Up!” Naomi hit Liana now, her fan leaving an immediate red mark on the already damaged skin. A stifled lamentation escaped from her lips, but she forced herself to correct her posture, visibly trembling.

The room was full of tension. The quadruplets fought not to collapse while Naomi watched with cold satisfaction. Every pigeon, every suppressed tear fed his cruelty. For her, this training was not just a test of physical endurance, but a lesson of submission and obedience.

The Albina had an obsession with keeping the four under control; their cruelty and coldness were nothing more than a reflection of repressed feelings of years ago, directed against someone from her past.

“Don’t forget who you are and why you are here,” Naomi finally said, with a voice of contempt. “Weakness has no place in this family. You are a negotiating chip given by your mother; your job will be to protect, serve and give your life if necessary for the country,” she stopped in front of Liana, “and bring heirs.”

Negotiating a chip... they always remembered the same thing without shame on their faces. The clan already had Hinata as its future successor; their purpose was to fill the old man's vacuum as hunters; they went to the battlefield instead of Hinata.

“Down.” The matriarch released his fan, letting it hang by a rope tied to his wrist, and struck twice as the sisters lowered their legs. Two servants entered the room, each with a real naginata and a wooden one. “The wooden one is no longer needed.” She grabbed the longest and put herself in position. “Lilia, move forward. You will begin your training at naginatajutsu from today.”

Lilia swallowed vigorously as she advanced and took the other naginata in her hands, grabbing the axis while her sisters were kneeling. The weapon was heavy, which would make it slow since it was not used to the weight of the sword.

Naomi made the first move with speed and precision, surprising the younger, who tried to block the blow as best she could. The sword was on his neck, and although she pressed to push him, the sword remained against his skin. From there, a thin line of blood began to emerge, staining the white skin of his neck.

Her grandmother withdrew the naginata and returned to her position, her eyes like a predator, ready to attack her while the other three waited for her turn with a feeling of nausea for what was to come to them.

Today they would leave the dojo with cuts; that was clear.

✥---------------✥------------------------------✥---------------✥

“Slower, animal,” Lilia hissed in pain when Ana pressed a cotton ball with disinfectant on the cut on her right shoulder.

“Who are you calling an animal?” Ana pressed the wound, causing another hiss from her sister. “Be thankful I’m helping you.”

“You’re a savage,” Lilian chimed in, who was helping Liana bandage her legs.

The four were in Lilia’s room, half-naked; all they had on were their lower undergarments as they attended to each other’s wounds from the naginata training.

“Grandma’s the savage, look how she left Liana.” Ana continued, pointing out the now more damaged wounds on the second quadruplet.

The sisters not only had cuts but also bruises on different parts of their bodies. Naomi hadn’t been satisfied with cutting them; she had also hit them mercilessly with the shaft of the weapon.

Liana had a significant disadvantage among the four when it was her turn, as the wounds on the soles of her feet had not completely healed, especially those on her shins, which were more recent. This was something Naomi took advantage of, hitting her there the most to destabilize and cut her.

“It’s only the beginning,” Lilia let Ana finish disinfecting her wounds before applying gauze patches. “Over time we’ll get used to the pain.”

Liana, on the other hand, preferred to remain silent and listen to her sisters. They were a good distraction from the throbbing pain in her body.

“More than we’ve already endured?” Lilian finished bandaging one leg and moved on to the other. “I wish we had been born into another family; everything would be much easier.”

“If that were the case, we wouldn’t have been born, at least not all of us.” Ana came closer to help once she finished with the eldest. “But at least…”

“We would be loved.”

Lilian completed what she wanted to say with a distant look while she continued to bandage, and a silence formed after that.

“It’s not worth thinking about that anymore,” Liana’s voice was muffled by the pillow she was using for support while lying face down. “We were born into this family, end of story.”

The sound of shinai clashing reached her ears despite being at the entrance of the Hoshina house; the sound came from different parts, confirming that they trained in various areas, which she remembered from the wings Soshiro had shown her during the tour.

“I’ll come for you in a few hours,” Taka, the driver, spoke, making her turn her gaze to him.

“Thank you for bringing me.” Liana made a small bow with her head, which brought a slight smile to the driver.

A Hoshina employee came out just as the car drove away, and with a courtesy she was not used to, invited her to enter.

The treatment certainly made her uncomfortable, but it didn’t reflect in her behavior or gaze. She was a blank slate.

The man, whom she deduced was in his twenties, guided her through several corridors to an outdoor area before leaving without saying anything else.

Her crimson eyes looked around with slight curiosity as she continued walking toward where she heard light pants, along with the sound of the wind being cut by repetitive movements.

Silently, she approached, a few meters away was Soshiro brandishing a shinai in the air, his hakama dirty and stained with soil. Liana was dressed similarly to him, the only difference being her red hakama with her family’s kamon embroidered on the back of her white hakui.

Liana sat silently, watching her fiancé intently for a few minutes; the other’s breathing made it clear he was already exhausted, but he kept swinging the bamboo sword. He was persistent, his effort showing in his arms and posture, but how he was breathing wasn’t helping, so she decided to give him a little lesson.

“You’re breathing wrong.”

Her words made Soshiro jump slightly from the scare, which caused a fleeting smile from her.

“When… did you arrive?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“What?” Soshiro tilted his head slightly to one side. Was he so focused that he didn’t notice the pretty girl? Perhaps his brother’s teasing words put him in his bubble while practicing, and he didn’t notice Liana’s arrival.

“You’re breathing wrong; it makes you tire more easily.” Liana stood up and approached Soshiro. “Get in position; I’ll show you a little trick.”

He did as requested while waiting for the instruction, but what he didn’t expect was to feel Liana’s hands on his back and chest. He froze in place, unable to move a muscle under the touch of the young woman.

✥---------------✥------------------------------✥---------------✥

¡The tag list is open!

and I remind you that first I upload the chapters to wattpad in spanish :D

[autumnshighlady]

I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 15)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Azriel has a tough decision to make

warnings: Night Court slander, semi graphic torture, Rhysand is horrible, the usual

word count: 5.8k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: oh my god i am so so so sorry this took so long! life has been insane lately i havent had the energy to write. Anywho, this chapter is just the start of something super big so buckle up and look for hints hehe alsO PLEASE GIVE FEEDBACK ON THIS CHAPTER IM BEGGING

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9 // part 10 // part 11

read on ao3

Spotify playlist

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AZRIEL POV

Azriel couldn’t help but flinch at the sight of your limp body, arms strung up like you were a piece of meat dangling from the chains. He had thought himself to be good at shutting off his emotions when it came to his line of work, but this felt different. Wrong, even. It confused him – not once had he ever hesitated, ever even considered disobeying his High Lord’s orders down in these dungeons.

Your hair was matted and lifeless around your face, the weak rise and fall of your chest being the only indication that you were even still alive. The beautiful gown that adorned your body at the ball was now tattered and dirty, barely clinging onto your skin in some places. Azriel gulped as he stared at your unconscious form, wiped out from Rhysand’s attempts to penetrate your mind.

Evidently, the High Lord was beyond frustrated, his brow furrowed and sweaty from the efforts. “I’ve never seen this,” He muttered, running a hand through his dark hair. “Not once. I’ve always been able to get inside people’s heads. Why not hers?”

“I don’t know.” Azriel responded. He felt his shadows curl around his scarred fingers. Normally they did so to encourage him to get the job done, but this time felt different. It was as if they wanted him not to end your life, but to reach out and free you from the shackles. But he ignored them.

Rhys slumped against the wall, panting slightly. “I need answers, Az.” He snapped, voice sharp. “How is this girl able to withstand my magic? And how the hell did she access some ancient spell that allowed this bond to form with Nesta? I would prefer to know before I end things, so whatever shit she may have put in motion can be stopped.”

Azriel stiffened. “End things?

The High Lord sighed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on, Azriel. You know this is how it has to end. She spent months plotting against our court, and possesses some form of magic within her bond with Nesta. She’s a threat and you know it. And threats like that must be eliminated.”

He spoke with that authoritative voice that Azriel had seen bring so many others to their knees in obedience. He felt it tug at his bones, the instinct to obey his High Lord. Azriel had always considered himself loyal, never needing that extra kick to submit to his superior. Until now. “I disagree.” Azriel said sternly. “(Y/N) has lied, yes. But she has shown no signs of intending to inflict harm upon this court. All she wanted was to get out, and she knew we wouldn’t let her.”

“I don’t recall you being this blind, brother.” Rhysand’s voice was low as his violet eyes sternly stared down his spymaster. “Did she flash you her tits during training sessions? Is that why you’ve suddenly gone soft?”

“No. I think we pushed her too hard, too fast into this job she did not want. She had already lost everything in the Spring Court, and when Lucien brought her here she immediately became a prisoner. Did you expect her to bow at your feet and be eternally grateful for letting her stay here? We should have given her a reason to want to become a part of this court, not force her into it within a span of months.”

Rhysand let out a growl, and Azriel knew he was pushing his limits. “Careful, Az.” He said. But Azriel ignored him.

“Can you blame her for resenting us?” The shadowsinger continued, against his better judgement. “Our High Lady destroyed her court, and when Lucien brought her here she was forced to live indebted to the female who allowed her home to be ruined.”

There was a low rumble within the cell as Rhysand’s dark mist began to creep out from behind him. “Choose your next words wisely, Azriel. Or I’ll begin to think you’ve helped her.”

“I didn’t, and you know it. But your protectiveness for your mate is clouding your judgement as a leader, Rhysand. This girl does not deserve to die for what she has done.”

Before he could breathe another word, a sharp pain cut through his throat as Rhys’ dark power wrapped around it, cutting off his air. Shock flooded through him, hazel eyes bulging as the violet eyed male snarled at him. He didn’t try to fight back. Not once had his brother gone this far – sure, they had their fair share of nasty fights, but never like this. No matter how angry they had gotten with each other, neither had ever threatened the life of the other. Until now.

“That is not your call to make, spymaster.” Rhysand snarled furiously. “I am your High Lord before anything else, and you are sworn to me. My word is law, not yours. You will go and search for more insight into this bond between her and Nesta. Whether you find anything on it or not, (Y/N) will die by your hand at dawn tomorrow. You will not protest, and you will not breathe a word about this to anyone. If I sense even for a second that you will disobey me, I will throw you in a cell beside this scheming whore. Am I understood?”

Azriel nodded as best he could, body still frozen in shock. After a moment, Rhysand’s tendrils finally retreated, leaving the spymaster gasping for air. Despite working alongside him, being the executioner to his master for over 500 years, Azriel had never known what it was to be like on the receiving end of his High Lord’s pure fury until now. He glanced over at your strung-up figure, guilt churning in his gut. You had endured this torture for days, a torture Azriel only received a glimpse of.

As the spymaster inhaled deeply kneeling on the cold floor, his shadows whispered to him. He knew deep down that he had a choice to make, one like never before. 500 years of loyalty to Rhysand was being put to the test, something Azriel never thought would happen. Another glance at how intensely Rhys was staring at your imprisoned, starved form was all he needed to winnow away.

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

Azriel’s throat still burned from the pressing of Rhys’ dark mist. He kept his demeanour calm as he approached the doors to the library at the House of Wind, even though his stomach was in a thousand knots. He knew what he was about to do was treason at the highest order, and the second Rhys found out he would be flayed alive. The clenching and unclenching of his scarred fingers was the only indication of his disturbance as the spymaster was met with Clotho. Her pale robes shone in the blue light of the library as she approached him.

Shadowsinger, Her elegant writing appeared on the paper in lieu of her voice. What can I do for you?

“I need to see Gwyneth.” Azriel said, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice to not alarm the priestess.

Gwyn is occupied right now. May I take a message?

He gulped nervously. “I’m really sorry, Clotho. But I need her right now.”

That will not be possible. I suggest you return at another time, Azriel.

“Please.” Azriel hated begging, and hated pushing the priestess even more. But before Clotho could script a reply, a gentle voice sounded from behind the shelves a few metres away.

“Azriel?” Gwyn’s red hair appeared, streaming down her flowing robes as she carried an alarming amount of books. “What are you doing here?”

“Gwyn, I need to speak with you in private. Right now.” He pleaded, hoping Clotho wouldn’t shoo him away.

Gwyn’s teal eyes were puzzled, but she nodded. “It’s alright Clotho.” The priestess merely nodded beneath her hood before turning and disappearing back into the stacks.

Azriel breathed a sigh of relief as Gwyn put down the books. She walked towards one of the offices, and he followed her in silence. The room was tense as she closed the door behind him.

She crossed her arms, which made him halt. Normally his interactions with Gwyn were pleasant, leaving his shadows singing happily afterwards. But the way she was staring at him with a hardened glare made him want to shrink back.

“Where is (Y/N)?” Gwyn said sharply.

Azriel took a deep breath, unsure of how to approach this. He didn’t know what version of that night at the Hewn City had reached the ears of the priestesses. “Gwyn–”

“Don’t bullshit me for one second, Azriel.” The redhead was unyielding, but he could see the anxiousness within her as her throat bobbed with every word. “Nesta left for Autumn with Eris, but (Y/N) never returned from the Hewn City that night. What did you do to her?”

“I didn’t do anything–” He started, but Gwyn cut him off abruptly.

“I said don’t bullshit me, you fucking liar!” Her voice rose, long fingers clenching and trembling with anger. It was enough to make Azriel take a step back, shocked at the fire within her. “I heard you grabbed her and whisked her away that night. What the hell did you do to my friend?”

Azriel leaned against the desk, wiping his face with his hand. His heart cracked a bit, knowing that trust and companionship he had built with Gwyn while training had come crashing down. He hated himself for it, for being so blind in following orders that led him to this place. His loyalty to Rhysand came at a price, one he had always been willing to pay until now. “I’m sorry.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I was following orders.”

“What is wrong with you?” Gwyn hissed, her words cutting him sharper than Rhysand’s magic had. “You took away her one chance of leaving this gods damned court peacefully. You took away her freedom out of stupid, blind loyalty.”

“How did you know what happened that night?”

She snorted. “You and your little circle like to treat us priestesses like we’re these fragile little flowers living in our own little shelter, oblivious to the outside world. But people talk, and word reaches us. We aren’t as ignorant to the court as you think we are.”

“I never said that you were.”

“You basically just did.”

Shame washed over Azriel. He knew she was right, that he was a prick in assuming the priestesses remained clueless to what was happening in the court right now. And that’s why Clotho had been hesitant to let him into the library. “I never meant for any of this to happen.” He muttered, closing his eyes.

“Well, it did. Now tell me where my friend is, and why you’re here.”

Azriel took a breath, preparing to utter the words that would make this decision the point of no return. “I need everything you have on the bond between (Y/N) and Nesta.”

A flicker of worry crossed Gwyn’s teal eyes. “I don’t know anything–”

“Yes, you do.” Azriel interrupted her calmly. “My guess is you knew about their plan as well. Otherwise you’d be a lot more freaked out by Nesta marrying Eris.”

As panic began to set into the priestess’ face, Azriel softened his voice. “It’s ok, I’m not going to tell anyone. It makes sense that any information that Nesta and (Y/N) got on the bond was through you and your work. You are not in trouble, and nobody will hear from me that you helped them. I just need every scrap of information you were able to get your hands on regarding whatever magic they used.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So you can give it to your master like a good dog playing fetch? Not gonna happen. He’ll use it to hurt both of them. I don’t care that he’s the High Lord, I won’t let him do that.”

Azriel stood up and took a step towards Gwyn. She didn’t shrink back, but rather lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “Gwyn,” He began. “That’s not what this is. I’m not retrieving this information for Rhysand.”

The priestess blinked once, as if considering the gravity of his words. He wished he could spill the truth and tell Gwyn what he planned to do, but just uttering those words directly to her would put her at risk. “Then who are you retrieving it for?”

“Look, I am not trying to hide anything from you. But I told you… if you knew the truth, I would be putting you at risk for selfish reasons. And after all I have done, that is something I cannot live with. You just have to trust me when I say that it is for the right reason.”

“After hearing about how you so quickly stole (Y/N) away, I’m not sure if we have the same definition of the right reason, Azriel.” Gwyn’s voice was bitter, but there was a sadness to it that made the guilt churning inside of him threaten to spill over.

“I understand.” He said quietly. “And you have no reason to trust me right now. But please… if you’ve ever had any faith in me at all…just….just know that I’m doing this for (Y/N). And Nesta. If you believe anything I say, believe that.”

Silence overtook the room, the shadowsinger and the priestess standing mere inches from each other. After a long few minutes Gwyn muttered a ‘stay here’ before quickly fleeing the office.

She returned 15 minutes later with a few sheets of parchment paper and several books. They were placed upon the dusty table, and Gwyn took a deep breath. “This is everything I have on the subject,” She said shakily. “It’s not much, but it’s every document that could possibly give anything away about the bond between them.”

Without thinking, Azriel dropped to his knees in relief, bowing his head. “Thank you, Gwyn. Thank you.” His entire body was on the verge of shaking as the weight of what he was about to do began to truly set in. Everything he had known and defended was about to be put on the line.

“Promise me this, Azriel.” Gwyn spoke coldly. “Promise that this information gets into the right hands, not the wrong ones. You do whatever it takes to help my girls. After everything you and your family have done to them, you owe them that much. And more.”

“I swear it.” Azriel said solemnly, still looking at the ground. In a flash, he felt a cold blade pressing against his jaw, tilting his head upwards to gaze at the priestess. She looked like a goddess of justice, staring down at him with icy eyes.

“And I swear this to you,” Gwyn said coldly, a silver dagger in hand. “If you screw this up and they pay the price for it, no power in the world will stop me from hurting you. I don’t care that you trained me, or that you saved me on that day Hybern came. I will cut your throat if anything happens to Nesta or (Y/N) because of you. Understood?”

Azriel was enthralled at her strength. This was not the shy, nervous priestess that he had rescued from Hybern’s soldiers. Gwyn’s bravery had excelled since the second she stepped into the ring, and Azriel had marvelled at her progress during training, how comfortable she became with the outside world. Stupidly, he had credited that to his and Cassian’s training, thinking that it was what Gwyn, Nesta and the others had needed to heal like he and Cassian had. No, this strength had nothing to do with what he taught her. Behind her stern expression, Azriel knew that deep down this strength had come from the friendship formed with you, Nesta, and Emerie. He had been a fool to see it as anything other than that.

“I’m proud of you, Gwyn.” Azriel said softly before his brain could shut him up.

Despite the flicker of surprise across her face, she did not yield. “I do not need your validation. I need you to do the right thing and help my friends. Only after that will your statement be worth anything to me.”

Gwyn removed the blade from the spymaster’s throat and turned on her heel. Like a ghost in the wind, she was gone. Azriel’s chest was tight as he stood up, collecting the documents in his arms and praying that this possibly very stupid decision would be worth it. But after seeing the anger on Gwyn’s face, the hurt he had caused without even realising it…. Azriel knew exactly what he needed to do as he winnowed away.

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

The door in front of Azriel opened before he could raise a hand to knock, revealing the redhead male with a golden eye wide with surprise.

“Azriel?” Lucien said in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” Was all he said in response before pushing his way past Lucien into the manor.

“By all means, come in.” The male muttered sarcastically.  But Azriel paid it no mind as he scanned the large living room for any sign of Jurian and Vassa.

“I’m alone.” Lucien quipped, settling down on the large brown armchair by the fireplace. “Since that’s what you were trying to figure out. I’m surprised you came by before (Y/N). I thought she’d have visited already, but I guess she’s been enjoying Velaris too much to be slumming it down in the human lands. When you see her next, thank her for the scarf for me, will you?”

Azriel’s heart dropped, head whipping sharply towards Azriel. “What?” He didn’t even bother keeping the surprise out of his voice.

Lucien frowned. “The scarf she gave me for the solstice? Rhys delivered it a day or so after, said she was busy on a new mission and asked him to drop it off for her.”

“Rhys was here?” Dread pooled in Azriel’s stomach. His High Lord was ensuring your disappearance would be quiet, giving him time to create a cover story before eliminating you.

“Yes… Why do you look so concerned? What aren’t you telling me?”

Azriel put his head in his hands, cursing. “You have no idea what’s been going on, have you?”

Lucien was still as a statue as he spoke. “I haven’t heard from (Y/N) since I got to the manor. When Rhysand visited, he said she had picked out a scarf for me as a present, and that she was sorry she hadn’t visited, but that she was loving her life in Velaris. And that she was training under you to work for the Night Court as a spy.”

Any desire to be secretive flew out the window as Azriel explained everything to the Autumn male – how you were not freely living in Velaris, but locked away with Nesta in the House of Wind. Your time spent back at the Spring Court to spy on your own people. Nesta’s engagement to Eris as a cover to escape the Night Court. Lucien was usually a collected male in Azriel’s eyes, but he could see the disbelief and anger in his expression as he told him the truth. When he was done, Lucien leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, speaking in a low voice. “So you’re telling me that you locked away my best friend, and everything I’ve heard about her for these past few months has been a lie.” Lucien said. “Is that correct?”

“Yes.” Azriel said quietly. “And now I’m trying to fix it–”

“Fucking hell!” Lucien exclaimed sharply, standing up abruptly and pacing back and forth. ���Your court is a fucking shitshow, you know that? How the fuck can you let this happen, Azriel? You’re so far up Rhysand’s ass you didn’t see any of this coming?”

“I understand you’re angry–”

“Oh angry doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Lucien hissed, his red hair gleaming in the light of the fire. “You played right into Rhys’ hands, and now (Y/N) is being tortured in a cell somewhere because you let it happen instead of growing a fucking spine. And that doesn’t even begin to touch on the fact that Nesta was treated so horribly by you people she was willing to marry ERIS out of all people just to get away from it.”

Azriel had no defence. Defeated, he hung his head. Lucien was right about everything, and it was made worse by the fact Rhysand lied about your status to him knowing that the Autumn male was the only one likely to try and do something to stick up for you.

“Now what I can’t figure out is why you’re telling me this.” Lucien folded his arms, glaring at the spymaster. “You’re either betraying Rhysand and trying to fix this mess, which is brave but incredibly stupid. Or you’ve come here to see if I somehow had anything to do with all this so you can hang me up in a cell next to (Y/N). Which is it, shadowsinger?”

”I need your help.” Azriel admitted, meeting his harsh gaze. “I’m trying to turn this around, but I need to track down Eris. You’re my only shot.”

Lucien let out a harsh, heartless laugh. “I figured. You need my help. If you thought I wasn’t going to be any use to you, I wonder if you’d have even come here and told me the truth. Or would you have just let me live on believing this lie until word got around about (Y/N) meeting her tragic end on some mission.”

Mentally, Azriel was exhausted. Two redheads ripping him a new one was beginning to chip away at him more than he was already crumbling at the weight of his decision. Like Gwyn, Lucien was right. While he respected the male, Azriel doubted he’d have even considered coming just to tell Lucien the truth about what happened if he didn’t think Lucien could help. And his moment of silence told Lucien all he needed to know, for he scoffed again. “Of course not,” He continued. “You people just love exploiting those of us without any other options and then throwing us away like garbage when we’re no longer of any use to you.”

“Then help me make this right.” Azriel pleaded. “Tell me how to get to Eris, discreetly.”

“Can’t you just free her yourself and take her to safety?”

“No, there are ancient wards in that prison. I can pass through quickly and easily, but not so much with another person. Rhys would find us within seconds if she left that cell, and kill us both.”

“Then how do you propose we get her out?”

Azriel frowned. “I’m sorry, we?”

Lucien rolled his eyes, taking a hearty swig from his glass of wine beside him. “I’m going to help you get her out.”

Azriel shook his head, not liking how many people were involved in this already. “I can’t let you.”

“Bullshit. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not after everything you’ve done to create this mess. I’ll take you to Eris, and besides, I think I know something that can help us.”

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

The crisp scents of Autumn flooded Azriel’s senses as he paced the clearing. His mind whirled from his talk with Lucien, even more so at the male’s idea that they had discussed. Lucien had winnowed him here and told him to wait while he discreetly fetched Eris. It was a huge gamble – while you and Nesta had been willing to trust Eris, Azriel was not so keen. His dealings with the prince had always been tense at best, and vicious at worst. He knew he’d have to swallow his pride and put their history aside for this, however hard it may be.

Frankly, Azriel had no idea where in the Autumn Court he was. His shadows sensed nothing, no indication of where they were on the map. It briefly crossed his mind that Lucien could very well have led him into a trap as payback, but deep down Azriel knew Lucien wasn’t that type of male. However angry he might be at Azriel, he would prioritise getting you back. The clearing was massive, which made him feel far too exposed for his liking. There was a thicket of trees in the distance that he considered hiding in, but he owed it to Lucien to do as he was instructed and wait here.

It felt like hours before a strong gust of wind blew his tousled locks out of his forehead, and the presence of something Azriel could only describe as sheer power slammed into him like a wall. A thunderous roar sounded from the skies, unlike anything the shadowsinger had ever heard before. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him.

Three large dragons were flying ahead, circling above the clearing. Their wings were like claps of thunder, nearly sending him backwards onto the ground. Upon the back of the large black one was the unmistakable, arrogant figure of Eris Vanserra. He held onto the spikes going down the dragon’s neck as it soared above Azriel, roaring with the ferocity of an ancient battlecry. Azriel’s jaw nearly hit the ground as he spotted none other than Nesta Archeron, riding the elegant silver dragon with her hair blowing in the wind. Her eyes were a lethal glowing silver, resembling the scales of the very beast she was mounted on.

“Mother above…” Azriel whispered, flinching as he felt the ground shake beneath him. He turned around slowly, and was met with the third dragon, a riderless one with gold scales and large horns. It snaked towards him, growling fiercely. For a moment, Azriel thought the beast would open its jaws and roast him alive, but the creature paused, growling as it glanced behind the shadowsinger.

“I must say, you are the last person I expected to come here.” Came Eris’ cocky voice. Azriel turned back around, slightly nervous at the golden dragon breathing down his neck, and was faced with the other two. Ignoring Eris, his gaze landed upon Nesta.

She was perched upon the dragon like it was a horse, or even a throne, chin high like a queen from ancient times. Azriel’s breath left his body at the sight of Nesta with her hair unbound, trailing freely down her back and shining against her blood red dress. Whichever way her gaze shifted, the dragon’s did so too. It was like watching Nesta in a mirror, only her reflection was a dragon. It unnerved Azriel, and he was well aware of his vulnerability in this situation. Not only was he in enemy court, unauthorised at that matter, but three beasts he thought only existed in stories stood beside him, in the flesh.

“Lucien said you wanted to meet.” Eris said coldly. “You have ten seconds to convince us that it’s worth our time.”

“(Y/N) will die at sunrise tomorrow if we do not do something.” Azriel blurted out clumsily.

There was a moment of silence, and Eris looked towards Nesta. Her gaze was fixed on Azriel, and he squirmed underneath it. Her silver mount growled fiercely, as if it was sharing its riders' rage.

“Are we supposed to believe that you’ve suddenly had a change of heart and care about her?”

Azriel gritted his teeth. “I’ve always cared.”

Eris snorted. “No, not truly. If you had, then we wouldn’t be having this meeting. Because you’d have done something by now and grown a spine.”

“Your brother said the same thing.” The spymaster growled, already irked by having to negotiate with the Autumn prince. “I don’t need more reminding that I’ve fucked up, Eris. I just want to save her life, and I can’t do that on my own.”

“And it’s taken you this long to come to this realisation because…” Eris raised an eyebrow, amber gaze merciless. His dragon snarled, baring its teeth menacingly.

“I didn’t know Rhys would take things this far. I thought he’d want to find out everything about the bond before he made a decision on what to do with her. But he doesn’t want to wait, he wants her gone by tomorrow.”

“I assume he ordered you to do the deed?”

Azriel nodded, throat tight. “Yes. He ordered me to collect all information on the magic they used to create the bond before I…. before I kill her. Regardless of whether I came up with anything, he wants her eliminated by sunrise.”

This was probably the stupidest, craziest decision Azriel had ever made. Part of it felt wrong, betraying his found family after 500 years of peace. But when he reflected on those centuries, had he truly been happy? Had he truly felt like he was living a fulfilled life, content with what he was doing? A few weeks ago, Azriel would have been sure of his answer. Now he wasn’t, and that unsettled him.

Regardless, reached into his bag and pulled out the books Gwyn gave him. He took a breath and continued. “Which is why I brought every document the Night Court has on this magic to you. So Rhys wouldn’t get his hands on it.”

“You went to Gwyn?” Nesta burst out, rage dripping from her tongue.

“Yes.” Azriel admitted his guilt for putting Gwyn in this precarious position intensifying.

“You put her in danger by doing that!” The eldest Archeron hissed at him, her dragon responding in a similar tone. “If anything happens to her because of it, I will slaughter you, Azriel.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Gwyn said the same thing to me about you and (Y/N). I swore no matter what happened, nobody would find out I got this through her. She even put a knife to my throat.”

Eris spoke up again. “As much as I would truly love to believe you, if I recall correctly you were perfectly content sending (Y/N) to certain death weeks ago on an impossible mission under Rhysand’s orders.”

“I was trying to find a way out of it for her!” Azriel yelled, patience snapping. “A way for her to quietly flee and go build a life for herself far away from all this shit. I never told her because I didn’t want to scare her, or get her hopes up. I had the chance to explain this to her before…”

His voice trailed off, memories of seeing you strung up like an animal flashing through his mind. Azriel was no stranger to self hatred, but today it was striking him now more than ever.

Nesta’s lethal tone interrupted his thoughts. “Before what?” She demanded.

Azriel gulped, praying that the dragons wouldn’t make him their meal. “Before Rhysand interrupted and… took over.”

“Meaning?” Eris inquired, his dragon inching ever so slightly closer to the Illyrian.

“Meaning he thought I was being too soft, since I gave her water. He stopped the physical torture and spent hours trying to get inside her head until she passed out.”

“And he didn’t manage to do it?” Eris’ voice was laced with surprise, something uncharacteristic for the Autumn prince who always seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone.

“No.”

Eris and Nesta glanced at each other, unreadable expressions crossing their faces. Their dragons continued to stare down Azriel, awaiting whatever command would give them permission to incinerate him where he stood. He had a million questions for them – how the fuck did Eris have dragons? What did Beron say about all of this? Did they still plan on taking him out? But Azriel knew better than to ask them.

Nesta swung her legs to the side and crawled down the dragon’s side. To Azriel’s awe, the beast lowered its shoulder to the ground to make it easier for the female to climb off. Gracefully, Nesta’s feet met the ground and she patted the dragon’s neck. He remained frozen in his place as she stalked towards him. Like Gwyn, there was a new strength to her. This was not the half-starved Nesta who first came to the House of Wind. No, this was the female that stole from the Cauldron itself, whose name was whispered across the moors and valleys of Prythian, associated with pure death and power. Nesta’s steps were sure, silver fire expertly curling around her fingertips like Azriel’s own shadows as she stalked towards him like a lioness seizing up its prey.

“My war is not directly with you, Azriel,” Nesta said slowly. “But make no mistake. You are not innocent here. You may not have inflicted the most damage, but you willingly stood by and let your family tear me and (Y/N) down until they got pure submission. You let Cassian mock and belittle me at my lowest. You forced (Y/M)  into a job she did not want to do. You let Cassian force me to train as a warrior when that’s not at all what I wanted or needed. You didn’t do a damn thing to advocate for either of us because you’re so blinded by the sheltered little tower your circle has built over the last 500 years, ignorant to the pain you inflict on anyone who’s not a part of your family. You coming here on your own volition is the only thing in my eyes that could possibly redeem you. You will help us get (Y/N) back at all costs, or you will suffer at my hand more than you have ever suffered before.”

Being threatened for the third time that day, all Azriel could do was bow his head. “I understand.” He said.

“No, I don’t think you do.” Nesta hissed. “For your sake, let’s hope your change of heart isn’t too late.”

Azriel hadn’t even noticed Eris had climbed off his dragon and was walking towards Nesta. He stood beside her, gently resting a hand on her waist. Azriel tensed, half expecting Nesta to slap him away, but she did not. To his surprise, she looked comfortable with Eris. More so than she ever had been with Cassain. When Cassian touched Nesta, there was always some sexual suggestion beneath it. But not with Eris. Eris’ touch was comfort more than ownership, something Azriel did not expect.

In his heart, he realised Cassian and Nesta were not right for each other. It made no sense for them to be mates, and whatever they had going on was purely surface level sexual tension. There was nothing deep about it, no greater understanding of each other. Nesta and Eris seemed like a much more reasonable match, mirroring each other like they did with their dragons. As much as Azriel hated the male, and knew that these thoughts would crush Cassian’s heart, it reassured him that he had made the right choice.

“So, spymaster,” Eris piped up, cocking his head. “How are we doing to do this?”

And so Azriel began explaining.

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[random-introverted-blog]

Shadows of Shar [F!Reader x Selunite!Shadowheart]

NOTE: THIS IS PART 3 and a half TO FLICKERS OF LOSS

Told you it existed

Previously - No More

Intended Audience: Mature [scroll the age requirement wheel until you come to a year where you can bypass the age check, we all know you do]

The Bit: You're learning to sleep again with the help of your patient, cleric lover. But can you learn to live again? Or are the shadows of your past too hungry to resist?

Warnings/Advisories: Implied SA, emotional abuse, torture via magical wounds, mental abuse, gaslighting?, cute but cringey pet name, tickles, a distinct lack of sandcastles (that's in the end half, which I am still working on)

Words, all the word (count): 3,553 baebeee

Dedicated to my bestest bestie who also made and provided and chose the gif - @ethelspetals

MINIMAL EDITING - WE FORGET AND DIE LIKE SHARRANS (ALWAYS - PRAISE OUR DARK GODDESS SHADOWHEART)

Finally delivering (half) of my promise in 3...2...1

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

Chains...

Chains and prayer. Prayer and chains. And ceaseless prodding. All at the hands of an obscene mockery of a god. Eyes remained closed, fixated on perfect, endless darkness. Finding the comfort of her Lady's embrace even on the knees of her failure.

No.

This was many things, but a failure it was not. It was a test. A sacred task bestowed upon her by the Lady of Loss. Even across the vast expanse of stars and time, her goddess would not tolerate derision.

Darkness is where she derives her faith. Darkness is where she thrives her soul.

And it would come. In time.

For now she would withstand the well lit room. She would reach out across the links that represented the bond to her pet, forever bound through the Dark Lady's blessed markings, etched into your flesh. Claimed as hers for eternity. Through them she could remain somewhat vigilant over you. Attempt to keep you from straying so far down those delusions the inferior version of her was poisoning you with.

Sure, you stumbled and struggled in your training... but you still excelled far beyond her expectations. In time, she was convinced you'd make a fine Dark Justiciar... And once she freed herself, well... it would only be a matter of time.

The Nightsinger had plans for both her, and you. And those plans were far from extinguished.

______________________________________________

Sunlight filtered in through the closed curtains, it's warmth on your skin denied by the covers you've been tucked into. It wasn't odd for you to wake up alone and she was trying not to coddle you so much, but that doesn't mean you have to like it. You had begun your ritual of smelling her side of the bed when the sound of the door closing has you perking up and looking down the bed toward it.

Shadowheart, with her hair plaited and already dressed, can't help but huff a small laugh when she sees you. "Just as I left you." She teases, swinging her arms a little as she crosses the room and sits on the edge of the bed, folding her hands on her lap. The twinkle in her eyes accompanied with her soft smile as she watches you makes your belly flutter.

With a curious tilt of her head, Shadowheart lifts her hand to tenderly brush her fingers against your hair. "Time to greet the day, lazy bones..." the words laden with honey. The showering of her affection has your eyes drift closed a moment. "I would let you sleep longer if I could, but we have company arriving soon." She hums, her perfect nails delicately graze your scalp in that way that turns you to putty for her. Even as she reminds you of the trouble, you caused her last night.

There's been an improvement. Some nights you fall asleep easily, but wake up with a lurch, muttering Sharran scripture until she coaxes your mind back to her. Other nights you toss and turn in her arms. The first time she thought it was because you felt... trapped. After all, she shares a face, voice and body with your former "mistress". So that night she encouraged you to sleep on your side of the bed uninhibited by her hands or arms. On your own.

You woke up in the middle of the night, on her lap in the middle of your shared bed. Throat raw and Shadowhearts arms squeezing you against her, pinning yours to your sides while she finessed her soft hands, radiant with divine magic, onto your right one, which burned and stung. Tears were drying on your face, but you couldn't remember why. Shadowheart's voice in your ear alternating between whispering and murmuring promises of love and safety. And you could feel a warm wetness under your fingernails on your left hand. It took too long for you to realize you had apparently clawed your right hand in your sleep. Possibly in an attempt to destroy the markings.

That was the last night she let you sleep without being tucked deep in her arms, the soft lullaby of her heartbeat in your ear and her fingers in your hair. To her credit, that hasn't happened since she's insisted on holding you every night.

But you were finding nights where you slept peacefully, visited by pleasant dreams or dreamless. They were becoming frequent enough you actually felt hopeful. Maybe, little by little, she would regain the confidence to let you sleep outside her protective arms again.

Wait, she mentioned company... what company? Your eyes peel open, reuniting with the tenderness and love in hers she's lavishing you with, and she must read the confusion. "Do you remember? My parents arranged to come by and see us," Shadowheart explains patiently, not once allowing her smile to completely falter.

A white cat that you recognize, Pawtato, hops onto the bed, nudging Shadowhearts arm up to demand attention from her. Lifting her hand from your hair. Apparently, the ridiculous name was your fault. "Come, don't be shy. You may only remember meeting them once, but they care about you almost as much as I do. You made quite the impression... That hasn't changed." She encourages with a knowing smile, pulling the covers off of you to reinforce that going back to sleep wasn't an option for you.

Still, you try. Curling into a ball and burying your face into her pillow. "Oh no, you don't..." Shadowheart warns. You feel her shifting up the bed, shuffling closer...

Then her fingers dig into your ribs, and you cry out in pained laughter. Your arms and legs flail. In a chaotic mess of movement, a playful battle erupts over your shared bed. "I'll tickle you right out of this bed if I have to!" Her laughs blending with your own.

You nod feebly, struggling to use words between gasps and cries, but fate is kind, and she mercifully ceases her assault. As the dust of your short-lived war settles, you realize the position you've inadvertently found yourselves in.

Shadowheart's knee sits between your thighs, effectively straddling your leg. Her hands smooth over your now exposed sides in gentle, soothing circles.

Her knee forces your legs open wider for her, dark hair framing her even darker eyes, "keep these open nice and wide for me, just like I've taught my good girl... you're my good girl, aren't you?"

A kiss. Just beneath your ear. That's all it takes, and you're back in her arms. "You're safe here..." Shadowheart murmurs in your ear, her fingertips drawing circles and hearts on your sides before she uses them to pull you into her. "And loved. So very loved." The gentle sincerity in her voice could almost bring you to tears as your arms slide around her back. Her warmth, the smell of her, how you melt into her embrace... it's intoxicating.

She tenses slightly, pulling her head back to give you a pointed, teasing glare. The tiniest of smirks giving her away.

Then you realize where your hands are. "Cheeky... Part of your scheme to keep us in bed, I presume?" Shadowheart's smirk grows as you blink stupidly at her. Your hands unmoving from her ass.

With a soft laugh that bubbles from her chest, she presses a tender, lingering kiss to your lips before slowly untangling from you. "I'll leave you to get yourself ready, then. They should be here within an hour or so." She smiles as she rises from the bed and departs the room. Pawtato hops onto your chest, and you briefly consider using him as your excuse but know you'd disappoint Shadowheart if you did.

You sigh and gently lift him off of you and at last roll out of bed. Before long, you are cleaned up, dressed, and presentable. You think you made good time when you start down the stairs.

...Until you smell fresh tea and hear the sound of chit chat from the kitchen. "There she is!" Her dad is the first to notice your arrival, rising from his seat at the table in what you recognize is an instinctive move to hug you.

But you tense. And you hate yourself for it.

Clearly, these people know you and care about you, but everything in you is still... jumbled. Confused. Your memories are still foggy at best, and what you do recall is Sharran training. And... obedience.

Let no one close, leave only room for The Blessed Nightsinger in your heart. And your ears pure for your mistress...

Despite everything in you that wants to let that go, it clings to you like moss to a wet rock. Some days, it feels inescapable, deeply ingrained into your very being. Shadowheart has told you before the key to shaking yourself free of those webs, those shackles... is to move forward, no matter how daunting it may feel.

So you do.

Your feet close the rest of the distance where he stopped to provide you space. And force yourself through the motions. Stiff as they may be, the moment you actually embrace the man, it floods back to you.

The last time in your memory you saw him was when you and Shadowheart emerged from the portal. He had been staying in the home and tending to it, and its inhabitants in your absence. And until now, that was all you knew of him and Emmeline. But now you see flashes of times they came over for visits with their beloved daughter, embraced you into their family like you had always been a part of it...

And as you separate from the embrace, it shatters. "Godsdamnit, now?" You barely hear her voice before it dies in your ears to the agony.

Intense, searing, almost all-consuming, your right hand glows deep violet up to your wrist. Strong enough, it buckles your knees, as if a firm hand was pushing you down onto them. Without any indication or clue you knew exactly why, you somehow still understood the reason. It couldn't prevent you from pursuing Shadowheart, though it had tried. But it could still interject with others.

This was punishment.

"By the hells, how can she be this petty?" Shadowheart's voice was barely audible in your ears as the pain persisted. Vaguely, you felt her arms around you.

As suddenly as it came, it vanishes. Leaving behind a faint throbbing ache in its place from your traumatized, trembling nerves. "I'm sorry..."

"Hush, you..." Shadowheart soothes, giving your body a reassuring squeeze in her arms. "I, of all people, understand exactly what you're going through. You have nothing to be sorry for." She continues, moving one hand to tuck some loose hair behind your ear.

Once you seem more composed, she pulls away and helps you to your feet. Guiding you to sit on a chair at the table. A cup of tea waiting for you, right next to hers. Shadowhearts hand clasps to your right under the table. You waste little time swirling the spoon around the rim of your little cup to distract your thoughts

Conversation passes easily after that. While you're more an observer than a participant and your love tries to include you where she can, it's still difficult and not just because you still only barely remember these people.

Every time they talk about Selûne, practicing her faith, visiting her temple, it makes your skin itch and you hate it. Almost every time they opened their mouths about it, you had to bite back a retort from all your time spent studying Sharran scripture, listening to Her teachings.

Selûne's light will penetrate the deepest darkness. Find courage to embrace the truths that lie beyond, for her illumination is a beacon of clarity.

Falsehoods to fattened cattle fit only to be slaughtered. In the Moonwitch's light lies temptation to embrace false hope and misguided paths. For in Shar's dominion, shadows are not deceitful, but honest companions, revealing stark truths that the Moonwitch's light seeks to obscure.

The Moonmaiden's light will guide the way.

Only the blind need guidance. For in Shar's endless dark, one only needs to abide and embrace her wisdom to find their way.

Incredibly, it was like Shadowheart could read your thoughts when this happened. Every time you felt yourself slip, she would give your hand a small squeeze and it would be enough to pull you back.

You weren't so naïve. The weight of the amulet hanging around your neck, a gift as direct from the Moonmaiden as it could be, was the only thing preventing Shar from dragging you back to Her. If your... mistress got free, and you didn't have the amulet... It's like this thing was helping keep your thoughts your own.

Though sometimes it didn't seem that way.

"Love?" she says softly beside you, pulling your attention from absently swirling your tea with your spoon. "I'd written to my parents about this already and they've agreed... Perhaps some time outside the cottage would accelerate your healing."

Your hand stills and catches the spoon before it can circle the rim of your cup. Though you're not entirely sure why, a sinking feeling nestles deep in your stomach, strong enough you wriggle your right hand free of hers to hold your tea with both hands. This isn't the first time she's suggested the idea and despite her desperate pleas with you to elaborate on why you reacted this way, you didn't answer.

Because you couldn't. You couldn't put it into words and you doubt you ever could.

Little pet, whatever do you think you're doing?

As best you can to stifle your reaction to the intrusive echoes of her words in your ear, you can't hide the slight twitch of your brow, your right hand squeezing the cup. No, you're not letting this happen here. Even Shadowheart is hardly aware of these moments where you hear... this. Urgings of your former mistress to be obedient. Behave. Faint reminders of her teaching.

Still aware of the subtle tingling in the back of your skull like a tangible presence in your mind. The moment you try to push it back and out, your hand flares again. Not for nearly as long, but enough that if the cup weren't on the table, you'd have dropped it.

Relieved when her voice doesn't return, having successfully shut it out. You're starting to worry her voice would haunt you for the rest of your life. How were you supposed to keep it from Shadowheart like this? "Where would we go?" You inquire shyly.

Your favorite cleric flashes you a warm smile. "A little trip down memory lane, nothing overly excessive or taxing." As she lifts her cup and sips from it.

"It really is no trouble." Arnell insists with a gesture of his hand. "Jen—Shadowheart believes getting out into the world would do you good, and I can hardly fault her reasoning."

Blinking awkwardly, and realizing you're outnumbered, you sigh and drop your shoulders. Shadowheart takes this as your silent surrender. Her hand settles on your shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. "I may have already packed some of our belongings for the journey... We can depart at first light." She says with an encouraging, gentle smile.

All of these blatant acts against Shar and your mistress, and you have yet to feel the sting of your marks, demanding your submission.

Has she finally turned her back on you? "I... I'm going to check on the barn." You sputter pathetically and shrug out from under your lover's gentle touch, scurrying toward the door of the cottage. You don't dare to turn around and face their confused, probably disappointed faces.

Are you nothing more than a constant source of disappointment now?

‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐

It was a very roundabout way of getting here. You'll give her that. You set your heavy pack of supplies next to hers. Her altered Justiciar armor gleamed in the bright sunlight in contrast to your dark leathers. Better to be safe than sorry, she insisted.

Your feet gently dipped into the soft, shifting sands of the beach. It looked cluttered with a variety of small debris, but otherwise it seemed like any ordinary beach.

But Shadowheart's gaze fixed on a spot in particular. Almost in the center. A smile touched her lips, her eyes distant... in a memory of her own, perhaps. "This is as close as we can get to the beginning." She says in an almost reverent way.

Though you try to ignore the awkwardness, it must still show in your face when her eyes meet yours. With a sigh, she takes your hand and leads you closer to this random spot in the sand.

Like she knows.

More than a little dazed from your own rude awakening, you hesitate over the unconscious cleric. Her dark hair framing her fair face, almost deceptively appearing... at rest. The strange dongle clutched in her hand.

Perhaps you should... gods, what should you do? She had been nothing but a valuable ally so far, but... this half-elf was not all she presented herself to be.

Against your better judgement, you bend down, gingerly rest your hands under the spikey pauldrons of her armor and give her a firm shake.

She stirs almost instantly, eyebrows furrowing until her gaze meets yours. "You're alive." She mutters in surprise, "I'm alive... how is this possible?"

If it weren't for her hand on the small of your back, you'd probably have fallen backward with how abruptly you reenter your body. "This is where it all started, the beginning..." The words fall from your lips, but they don't feel like they belong to you. They taste foreign and strange on your tongue. Shadowheart slowly slides beside you, in your line of sight. You lock your eyes on hers. A brief flicker of the dream you just saw flashes before you, and for a second her hair is dark, she's wearing bangs and a mysterious circlet. "The beginning of what?"

Even if you tried, you couldn't miss the subtle sadness that weakens her smile. As if disappointed. Still, her hand tenderly takes yours. "The beginning of us, love." Her words gentle, careful. Expectant...

She's waiting for your markings too...

After a brief moment, Shadowheart guides you to kneel next to the spot on the sand, and she takes her place opposite you. "Think, Tav. Relax and let it come back..." she says encouraging, sitting on her knees with her palms flat on her legs.

While you're unsure at first, you humor her and take a deep breath. Easing the tension in your shoulders and staring into the warm grains of sand...

"We need each other, and we both know what's at stake." The cleric, Shadowheart states confidently. "I can't think of better company."

Well, when she says it like that, how are you to argue? "Suppose it would make the most practical sense. Two heads are better than one and all that. Very well. We're burning daylight standing around" You nod, once again hating how you're somehow shorter than a half-elf even if only by a few inches.

Her hand catches your arm before you fully turn away. "Before we go... I just want to thank you. For saving me." Shadowheart says, her hand lingering on your arm. "It would have been all too easy for you to run right past my pod. But you didn't." She pauses before she ends with a heartfelt, "I'll remember that." And nods.

"All too easy..." echoed in the distance. Shadowheart paid no mind as she started up the beach beside you, "all too easy to forget yourself, more like."

You watch helplessly as she admires the dark, ominous spear in her hand, before she grips it in both hands and glares at the mysterious Nightsong.

She rears the spear back

You taste blood—

And your hands fly to your skull, jumping backward from anything and everything, pushing back on your hands until the sand scratches your palms raw. Desperately bringing your knees into your chest, hugging them closer to you before burying your face against them. "Talk to me, please." Her voice pleads next to you, her touch on your hand.

All too easy...

You jerk away, her voice worming into your ear trying to find purchase in your mind again but you won't let her... you won't be brought to heel again.

Tense silence falls over you like a blanket, cold, wet, heavy. Suffocating, drowning, your chest coiled tight and ready to implode on itself. "Tav... it's me." The voice is different. Sweet. "Whoever you think I am," she continues, like a warm caress in your ears, "I'm not her."

She tries again to touch your hand and though you twitch; the response is more subdued and so instead she grips your hand. You feel her slowly, carefully moving closer to you, her other hand stroking the top of your head. "You're safe here."

Just like that, the seas calm and the waves subside. Timidly lifting your tear-stained face from the fortress of your knees, and Shadowheart, your Shadowheart wastes no time wiping away the lingering tears. "We'll get through this together, my love. You're not alone. I won't let you face this on your own."

For a moment, you dare to feel a flicker of hope in her words.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈--ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-

I'm going to give a shoutout to my bestie who motivated me to write this and my biggest cheerleader and fan @ethelspetals

Go send her lots of love and appreciation and check out her youtube. The gif used here was picked out by her.

[nightmare-magic]

1

And away we goooooo...

“You know I wouldn’t be calling if I had another option.” Vollrath growled as his teeth ground. He looked around, hating to even have to be there meeting with Morpheus. How did he even get himself into this position. He was a fucking Master Warlock. Shouldn’t he be able to vanquish nightmares? YES! Yet here he was having to ask for help from a being that he hated, and who he was sure hated him.

“Would you prefer to negotiate with Melinoe?” Morpheus smirked, knowing the answer to that. While Melinoe was less of an asshole than he was, she also had never had a run in with Vollrath before. The other three men who sat at a table near them, obviously hating this as much as Vollrath was, would make her no less pleased than dealing with the jackass warlock in front of him. “So, what did you fuck up to need my help, warlock?” His eyebrows rose in amusement.

“I didn’t fuck anything up. Someone is coming after my wife through her dreams. My brother, and both of the warlocks who serve under me have tried figuring out what’s going on, and neither can. I’m worried, Morpheus. Nothing we can do through our magic is working. The goddess is not helping and even Sylvan seems unable to vanquish whatever is coming to torture her dreams. The ancestors don’t seem to be able or willing to help, they are not communicating which. I’ve never run into anything like this.” His jaw clenched and his hand ran through his auburn hair as Vollrath admitted that he was powerless to fix the problem. Mahala was already afraid to fall asleep and even had to be drugged most nights. Her fear kept her from being able to relax enough to sleep, so it was either drugs or she’d stay away until she passed out.

Morpheus sat back as his eyebrows drew together. That was not what he’d expected. The last time that he’d been called by Vollrath, it had been a witch who’d called a nightmare demon and couldn’t vanquish it. Of course, Morpheus had been able to take care of the problem easily. This situation was a lot more personal and touchy though. Vollrath requesting personal help from him was something that Morpheus knew was not something that the warlock would do lightly. It was one thing to ask for help for someone in the coven, or to undo something that had been done by someone in the coven, but this was different.

“Of course, both Melinoe and I will be glad to help. We also have another team we work with, that we have personally trained. No one should be tortured by nightmares that sound that powerful and violent.” He could see the powerful warlock before him relax, as did the three others at the other table, when they saw Vollrath relax. “I need to know how long it’s been going on and any details that you are able to tell me. That will give my team an idea of what we’re up against and how we want to take it on.” Anything or anyone taking on the wife of a Master Warlock had to be pretty ballsy. To withstand the powers of four powerful warlocks, like the ones before him, meant that they were going to have to call in help from Lorien and Rua as well; which is why he mentioned them. Morpheus had a sinking feeling that they were once again up against something new, or dark.

“About a month ago, it just started suddenly. It was a random nightmare unlike anything that she had ever had before. Mahala, my wife, had problems waking up from it even with me trying to help her using spells. When she did, she was disoriented and unlike herself; and kept falling back into the same nightmare. It was as if there was a tether to her even when she was awakened that pulled her back into sleep and into the dream. I had to give her a potion to stay awake. Then, every night since then, whenever she falls asleep, she falls back into the same nightmare. It is violent and dark….” Vollrath began with how the nightmares started.

From there, he gave details of how the nightmares involved witches that seemed to come from ancient times, chanting in ancient language that she didn’t understand. They were doing rituals that she did not understand, burning her, cutting her, poking her, hitting her, and even warlocks taking place trying to rape her. Vollrath had to pause at times, obviously becoming overcome by emotion at what his wife had gone through, the obvious emotional and physical toll it was taking on her. He did mention that he was always able to wake her up at least before the rapes took place. She would start screaming to please not rape her and he knew that is what was starting. He was afraid, though, that one day he would not be there, and that the emotional trauma would be too much. At times tears made slow rivers down his face, his hands fisted, he shook, and his voice cracked as he recounted all that had been taking place.

The more that Morpheus listened the more disturbed that he became at what he was hearing. His eyes scanned all four Warlocks and it seemed that they all shared the same emotions regarding the situation, which meant that most likely all had tried to help regarding it and failed. This wasn’t the situation that he had wanted, but rarely were you handed one you did.

There had to be some kind of tie in with Vollrath’s history, or that of Mahala. Maybe something in the past of their family, or of the coven. With them both being strong in power and married to one another, there could be no coincidence in what the nightmare was showing them. It didn’t mean that the dream agents couldn’t help her, but it would be more complicated than if it had just been a nightmare assassin of the normal kind that they dealt with her. He was sure by the end that all four of them as a team would be best, if for no other reason than to watch one another’s back.

“We will find out what is going on. All four of my team will help. We will end this. I vow it. We may have our differences, Vollrath, but no one should suffer like that. We begin tonight. I’ll go back and round my crew up. I’ll call you when we’ll meet again so everyone can become acquainted and you can learn what we’ll need from the four of you.” Morpheus was resolute, his voice firm. Whatever was going on with Mahala, he had no doubt that he and his crew could handle it. He just hoped that they were in time to prevent any lasting damage to Mahala.

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[running-with-the-feels]

Hi yeah you're not just gonna move past kuai Liang killing three dudes while in labor with Frost in your au thingy

If you've seen Wheel Of Time, there's a scene where an Aiel warrior in labor kills a bunch of guys with a spear, that's roughly what it was like, and was the inspo for that tidbit

Basically, he was in very early labor so not completely debilitated yet (though still in agony bc it is still labor)

Also, Lin Kuei are trained to withstand extreme amounts of pain, so Kuai Liang had a slight advantage there bc he's been literally tortured from childhood

This was while he was on the run with Hanzo, who privately thought (bc he has a competency kink) that it was the single hottest thing he'd ever seen, though he plans to take that to the grave.

[girlactionfigure]

"THE ROCKET THREW ME INTO THE AIR"

Eyewitness account of a soldier who survived the impact of a Hamas rocket

LEE KERN

NOV 11

I went to a hospital in central Israel. I spoke with a soldier who was the first to arrive at Kfar Aza during the massacre committed by Hamas. In a community of 750 people - 60 were murdered and 17 civilians have been taken hostage in Gaza. As the war is still ongoing, the interviewee is referred to as Soldier H so as to protect his identity. His face is badly scarred on both cheeks after he was hit by an explosion from an RPG. His bandaged hand still doesn’t work properly a month later. Below are notes from our conversation 

Soldier H woke on the morning of October 7th. He was on his base with his team. He received a rocket alert on his phone. He woke up his soldiers. He then saw the viral video of Hamas terrorists travelling into Israel by car and shouting Allahu Akbar.

It was 6.54am

He told his men to be ready and they loaded their vehicles.

He called his commander and asked “What shall we do?”

Without a specific command being given, Soldier H and his men drove towards the trouble so they would be nearer and ready to help. They were sixteen soldiers in four vehicles.

As they got closer they saw dead bodies and burned cars by the side of the road.

Hamas had also blocked the road with cars. The intention was to prevent help reaching the civilians being massacred.

Soldier H and his men were then ambushed. They were shot at by terrorists. This was another tactic to slow down the IDF’s ability to reach the kibbutzim. The purpose was to give terrorists in the kibbutz maximum time to kill civilians and to torture them.

Knowing that civilians needed their help - Soldier H and his men decided not to return fire to the terrorists. They chose to accept the bullets being fired at them and move onwards to the kibbutz. 

If these terrorists had been in possession of RPGs - Soldier H and his men would have been destroyed in their vehicles - which aren’t designed to withstand rockets.

Continuing onwards, they were getting close to Kfar Aza.

They arrived at the kibbutz.

They saw civilian dead bodies mingled among some IDF bodies.

He saw three dead soldiers.

He saw a mother shot in the head

He saw her child shot in the head

He saw her other child shot in the head

He saw a baby in it’s pram

The baby was shot in the head

There were bodies everywhere

A dead naked woman

Five children - each shot with one bullet in the head

It had been a scene of mass executions

Women, children and babies all shot in their head

Neither he nor his men had ever trained for anything like what they saw

It was a new world

The murder was organised and sophisticated

He had never seen imagery like this since the Holocaust

Seeing the soldiers arrive, Hamas started executing remaining civilians as quickly as they could and took defensive positions

Soldier H and his men started receiving fire

Soldier H knew that the numbers were not in their favour. They were only 16 soldiers. The terrorists numbered 100 to 150.

He knew they had to respond in such a way that the terrorists believed a big army had arrived.

So Soldier H and his men ran towards the danger and took position inside one of the homes

They could see in each others eyes that they all understood they were in a grim situation.

The terrorists had RPG’s, grenades, explosives and heavy machine guns. Soldier H and his men had their personal weapons and a few grenades.

None the less, whilst receiving fire, they went from home to home. They shouted in each house to warn any civilians that might be hiding in their safe room to remain locked inside.

Outside one of these civilian homes they were ambushed by Hamas. Two men were shot and died. 

It had been 30 minutes of fighting so far

Two more soldiers were shot and wounded and fell onto their dead comrades.

The remaining soldiers dragged them inside a house

Meanwhile, the drivers who brought the soldiers to the kibbutz had remained with the vehicles

Two of the drivers now drove towards the battle scene to try and evacuate the dead and the wounded

Whilst this attempted evacuation was taking place, Soldier H saw a man in an IDF uniform standing a short way off

Soldier H was aware it could be a trick and that this might be a terrorist in an IDF uniform

The man in the uniform waved at Soldier H

Soldier H made a decision in his heart that he couldn’t risk firing at an IDF soldier, even if it was possibly a trick

The man waved at Soldier H and then produced a rocket launcher which he fired at Soldier H

It landed in front of Soldier H and the impact threw him into the air and backwards

Shrapnel and debris went into his face, hands, stomach and pelvis.

Blood was everywhere

One of his men dragged him into a home and tried to tend to his injuries

He was dazed and tried not to yell from the pain. As their leader he had to be cool to keep them motivated.

The vehicles that had come to evacuate the dead and wounded now had to pull back

The vehicles were too important to risk being destroyed 

During the battle, other than warning people to stay in safe rooms, there were no civilians the soldiers could save

There were no wounded

There were only dead

Everyone and every form of life had been killed

Mothers, grandparents, children, babies, animals

Hamas had burned their homes

There were naked women dead in gardens

There were no naked men

Only naked women

He saw a beheaded corpse

At the entrance to one home there was a mother lying face down

She had been shot in the back of the head

There was a dead child hugging her

The child was also shot in the head

The child had been shot second, hugging its mother after she had fallen to the ground

Eventually, other IDF units arrived

With their help, Soldier H and his men were evacuated

Solider H says what he saw will be with him his whole life. 

He says Jews can forget that there are people who want to kill us simply because we’re Jews. 

Hamas came to torture civilians. 

To rape women. 

To steal from the dead. 

They came to terrorise. 

He says the world must know this isn’t Israel vs Hamas. It’s a war between people who value life and those who don’t stand for any civilised values. 

Whatever they call themselves: Boko Haram, Hamas, ISIS, Al Qaeda - they all have the same radical Islamic beliefs and have the same goals.

I asked if he has a language for what he saw?

He said it’s a different language from what he knows. 

In Israel you’re taught fairytales when you’re a child. 

In Gaza they aren’t taught things appropriate for children. 

They’re educated to murder Jews

To hate Jews

To be violent. 

They are raised this way and it leads to the things he saw in the kibbutz.

Soldier H has currently had two surgeries and is still working on movement in his arm. 

He estimates it will be six months before he is rehabilitated

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Unorthodox неортодоксальный

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Barnes!Reader

Warnings: siblingxsibling relationship,brother/sister,mentions of torture, blood, violence, any russian used i got from google translate so sorry if it's not accurate 😬😬, also don't apologize for a long request, I actually really appreciate these as I have more to work off of

Words: 4541

Flashes of his previous life flicker behind Bucky's closed eyes. He was most certainly dead, right? He fell hundreds of feet to his death. Even if he was a super soldier now, there was only so much the human body could withstand falling from that height.

"Bucky!" Your small, pudgy hands are grasping for him. His sweet baby sister that he would die for. Being the eldest of four, of course Bucky would gladly defend any of his siblings but you were special to him, the closest to his heart.

Pain radiates through his body. Brief moments of consciousness blip by here and there but he just couldn't keep his eyes open long enough to figure out where he is.

You look so cute in your nurse's uniform, your hair pinned up in the latest style. Something that was actually a part of his fantasies. Whenever he caught you working at the army base, he would stop whatever he was doing to admire you. A side he'd never seen before. You were serious while at work. How could you not be when lives were on your hands. Honestly, you should have been called a surgeon with your knowledge of the human physiology and anatomy.

"Quit staring sergeant!" You'd chuckle when you inevitably caught him.

Where were you now, Bucky wondered. Were you safe? Eating well? Was Steve taking care of you like he promised he would if anything happened to Bucky?

"Bucky. . ." Soft eyes gaze lovingly at him, from the toddler you had once been you were now a young lady. Your long lashes lacquered and red stained lips. You were downright irresistible. Bucky just had to keep you all to himself. He watches as his hand reaches out to stroke the skin of your upper arm. So soft and warm. Like you were actually there with him. These small moments were what Bucky cherished the most during his time at the training camp. Sneaking out in the middle of the night so that you could make out in the woods. Always quick moments when the two of you were able to be together.

His chapped lips whisper your name over and over again.

Bucky vaguely recalls the way your fingers caressed the stubble on his jaw. Tender and making him nuzzle his face further into your palm. That goddamn giggle of your's that shoots straight through his heart leaves your lips. He was completely your's. As you were with him.

Losing comprehension of the passing of time, eventually Bucky is roused awake to find himself strapped to a metal chair. Harsh lights are shining down on him. When he attempts to even wiggle, the straps restraining him only tighten.

It takes Bucky a moment for his eyes to focus and his ears to clear. Figures move around him like shadow people, speaking in a language Bucky didn't understand.

His head lolls from shoulder to shoulder before someone forces his head up.

"Good. You're awake."

Besides the lights glaring on him, the rest of the room was too dark for him to decipher much. Men in uniforms stand erect behind the man who'd spoken to him.

"Your body seems to have accepted the prosthetic nicely." The man cocks his head and looks to the left side of Bucky's body.

Bucky's eyes trail to his left shoulder. Instead of flesh, there was shining metal. It takes a moment for his brain to register that this arm is not his original. That even though it obeys the command his brain gives it, there's something off about the way it feels. His metal arm is heavy and slow.

His mouth opens to speak, or scream, he wasn't sure anymore. But Bucky's mouth is dry and leaves him croaking.

The man in front of him takes a step closer. "I'd advise you to take things slowly. You have been unconscious for several weeks." His glasses catch the light from above.

Even with his foggy brain, Bucky knew that he was in a bad spot. The soldier in him struggles to formulate a plan, let alone remember what he'd been taught about being captured. Like he was before. His pale blue eyes try and take note of everything he was able to see.

He flinches when the man reaches out and touches the seem where his shoulder flesh was melded to metal. "It will take a while for you to get used to. But thankfully the super soldier serum in you will aid in a speedy recovery. You must realize by now, Sergeant Barnes, that you are no longer under the possession of the United States military. You're in much better hands. HYDRA will mold you into the best version of yourself. The arm was a sudden improvement."

Everything around him feels like he's swaying though he was stationary in the infernal devil's chair that forbade his movements.

"Rest assured, Sergeant Barnes, we'll turn you into something spectacular.

Nothing was going to plan. He was greatly resisting all forms of brainwashing that they had in their belt. Everyone was surprised, not sure of what to do next. Zola was perplexed.

"If we cannot physically force him into subjugation, then we shall try another route. . ." Zola glances down at the file he had on James Buchanen Barnes. There was a list of three other siblings. Only one of them piqued his interest in particular. You. You were already stationed in a military base that wasn't far from where the Allies were last spotted. If he sent out enough men, they could obtain you fairly easily.

He makes a note to his assistance to acquire you at once. Zola turns back to the spy mirror that looked out to Bucky, the psykonic helm that wrapped around his head gleamed. It was like Bucky could see through the mirror and straight into Zola the way he glared venomously at him. There are two other 'surgeons' in the room with him who await Zola's order.

Pressing the button on the intercom, Zola speaks into the microphone "We shall take a break. I believe we've found an incentive for you."

Bucky's lips curl viciously, baring his teeth as he pulls at his bindings for the upteenth time. He was tired but he wasn't prepared on giving up anytime soon. They'd have to kill him.

That was Bucky's plan until they drag you in several hours later. He let out an animalistic roar as he jerks forward. They were holding you by your hair with your arms tied behind you. Your nurse's uniform was dirtied by small specks of blood.

Your captor pulls you up higher so Bucky has a better view of your battered face.

Zola takes his place behind the spy mirror once more. The intercom crackles with his voice "Do you like the gift? You can only have it if you give in. Lev." he's instructing the guy who was holding you by the hair.

'Lev' nods and swiftly punches you in the face. Stars fly in your vision with black splotches crowding the corners. Bucky's spitting out every foul curse he could think of, gritting his teeth as he desperately tries to break free and save you.

"Again Lev. I don't think he understands."

The sound of his knuckles connecting to the side of your face assaults Bucky's ears.

You felt the splitting of the skin on the bridge of your nose. Possible bruising but if he hit you one more time, you were sure that your nose would break.

Side of your face already starts to discolor. Blood vessels broken beneath.

Tears fill up Bucky's eyes as he continues to scream for you. Violence making his muscles tremble.

You never thought your brother was capable of making such a heart wrenching noise.

Be strong, you tell yourself as you bite back the cries that bubble in your throat. You swallow back the bit of blood that was accumulating in your mouth from your torn lip. Be strong, damnit. Like Bucky has always been for you.

"Again."

"STOP!!" Bucky wails. "Please. Stop!"

Twice was too much for Bucky to handle. A third would have broken him.

You take a shaky breath through your mouth, not trusting the structure of your nose. Rust was heavy on your tongue. They reduced your strong brother to begging. Your god-like brother. The man you held up on such a high pedestal. No one else could ever compare to him. He was the ideal man.

"Is there something you'd like to say?" came Zola's voice once more.

His breathing comes out ragged, throat torn up. "I-I'll do. . . whatever you say. Let her go. That's all I ask. Let her go."

Zola's sinister smile was palpable through the com. "Wonderful news."

Zola never intended to release you though. Not when you can be another component to his Winter Soldier Program. After Bucky agreed, the took you away. They throw you in a barren cell to lick your wounds.

Hours pass but eventually the toss Bucky into the same cell as you. He's covered with sweat and feverish cheeks. His lips barely move yet you catch delirious mumbling.

"Oh god Bucky. . . what did they do to you?" You whimper at the sight of your brother but get to work. Checking his pupils and pulse points to assert that he was still alive for his breathing was near non existent.

Your lips quiver as you clean his face the best you could, not understanding what they did to him.

Faintly, Bucky says your name.

"I'm here." Pressing your lips to his forehead in a kiss and reassurance spilling from your mouth.

Neither of you were aware of the eyes that still watch you. They wanted to see how the two of you interact when you thought you were alone.

"I'm sorry." Bucky rasps out.

"Conserve your energy, Bucky." You smooth his tangled hair out of his face.

He shakes his head, repeating his apology.

Every day they take Bucky away from you to do. . . whatever they were doing. At the end of the day he was always returned worse than the previous day.

You still didn't know what your fate would be. They appeared to have forgotten about you. The food brought was the one sign that your presence was remembered.

Bucky insists on giving you the rest of his food. "You need to eat more. You're losing way too much weight."

"I'm fine. You're the one who really needs it."

"Don't argue with me. I'm still strong enough to force feed you." A ghost of a smile quirks his lips up. That same toothy grin that made dozens of girls before you fall for him. He holds up a piece of bland bread to your face. "Be a good girl for me."

You blush and roll your eyes. "I'll have half of it." You open your mouth and bite down enough that left your brother with some to eat.

His thumb brushes the crumbs off of your lips. "Still messy as ever, doll."

Playfully you nip his thumb, relishing in the brief moment of normalcy. It took you back to a time before the war. When Bucky and you would take a trip outside of Brooklyn, your version of a date since no one would know who you were let alone that you were siblings.

But you'd noticed his memories fading. He couldn't remember the name of your other siblings or of your parents. Was even starting to forget about Steve.

At least you seemed to be the exception.

Zola watches the grainy black and white monitor that looked into your's and Bucky's cell. He hears the low murmuring of his staff around him who were also watching the interaction.

Bucky leans in toward your face.

"инцест?" Someone breathes out in disbelief. Incest.

"It appears so." Zola replies. He taps his fingers against his chin. "These two just keep getting more interesting. Lev, how much of the serum do we have left to spare?"

Lev glances up from his own papers. He knows already what the small, bespectacled man was thinking. Attention turned to the monitor. Vaguely he could make out the smile that spread across your face.

You would be Zola's next experiment.

Tears stream down your voice as another wave of agonizing pain shatters your skull. A mouth guard had been settled to protect your teeth from cracking as you clench down on them for dear life.

You'd been given the serum a week ago. For an entire seven days you were throwing up your guts, shacking from cold yet sweating from a fever that also seized you. It was enough to make you beg for death. Bucky could do nothing to ease your agony, only hold you in his arms; his cold metal arm offering you coolness for your sweating face.

Zola was smiling down at you from outside of your cell. You survived and were now officially part of his Winter Soldier Program.

That's when they started your brainwashing sessions.

You, as Bucky had, were stripped of any memory of family or friends. Not even of who you were.

The only memories that remained untouched were those of you and Bucky.

Your mind fractures into a dozen pieces. Mindless.

There was blood between your dark, deep cryostasis slumber.

Other Winter Soldiers came and went. Unable to surpass You and Bucky.

Many are considered utter failures.

Zola would never be able to replicate the success.

Another assignment. So similar to the dozens you've already executed. They blend with one another until it's just endless killing. Nothing felt odd about it. All was going according to plan.

"Nik F'yuri vozglavil kompaniyu (Nick Fury has company)." Bucky informs you as he observes through the scope on his rifle.

"U tebya yest' shans (You got the shot)?" Company was of little consequence. The job was to be done whether or not there were bystander casualties. You're looking into the window as well with your own scope. You could make out the lump of a body that was Nick Fury moving around along with. . .

Your brows furrow, not hearing your brother's confirmation.

Why did that man look familiar?

Flicking your eyes over to Bucky, it appears he doesn't have the same vague recognition that you do. He continues to be all business. There's an odd twisting in your gut though. Something deep down inside of you trying to speak. Try as you may, you couldn't hear any of it's muffled words. In your chest was an unmistakable warmth of familiar fondness when you first spotted the blonde haired man. It was how you felt when you looked at your brother. On a lesser degree, of course. When you gaze at Bucky, that warmth intensified tenfold. He was radiant in your eyes. Your god.

You look again into your scope. Taking a deep breath, you give Bucky the go ahead to shoot Nick Fury.

His finger effortlessly squeezes down on the rifle's trigger. You hear the sound of a window shattering from the bullet that flies from the muzzle.

"On upal (He's down)." Bucky hastily announces and the both of you are already on your feet, fleeing the rooftop. Boots hitting against concrete. Scaling down the building though, you listen to the commotion that has disrupted the once quiet street.

You're afforded little time to get away. But your mind lingers to the blonde haired man that had been with Nick Fury.

That was how you and Bucky recovered your memories. All thanks to Steve Rogers.

Going from being Winter Soldiers to fellow Avengers was a true culture shock.

Steve was patient with the both of you. Bucky was by far more feral than you. You'd been the one to prevent Bucky from taking on Captain America. Hissing to him that you felt like you could trust Steve. You couldn't really explain it in the heat of the moment, but eventually your memories start to resurface.

The rest of the Avengers were more reluctant at your presence in the Tower. They took longer to warm up to you. Warming up to Bucky took MUCH longer. He'd never trusted people easily to begin with. One had to go through trials before Bucky deemed them someone he could let into his inner circle. He was prickly for the first five months as the both of you were recovering from trauma caused by HYDRA. You kept to the room you and Bucky shared (despite Bucky having his own room right down the hall). Bucky was sure that you weren't out of his sight for too long. His semblance of normal was corrupted. Honestly so was your's. How did one relax? You were checking over your shoulders constantly for some unseen threat that was eminent. Your sleep was haunted with nightmares of HYDRA finding you and Bucky, destroying your new home, and hauling you back to Russia.

Only the soothing warmth of Bucky's bare chest could calm you.

"Me too." He'd whisper into your hair as he cradled you against him. You bury your face into his chest, inhaling his scent. Many times it was Bucky to wake up screaming or even worse was when he woke up immediately trying to punch the closest person to him. He'd snap out of it the moment your voice hit his ears.

"Do you. . ." your throat was unbearably dry. "Do you think they'll ever go away? The nightmares and fear?"

Bucky's plush lips ghost the crown of your head, dragging his nose against your hair to take in your smell: eucalyptus and mint. The sharpness of the mint tickles his nose. "I don't think so. At least, not any time soon. It might take decades to recover."

Over time you learned to trust the other Avengers. Especially when Wanda came into the picture. She knew better than anyone else what it was like to be held prisoner by HYDRA. The two of you bond immediately. Wanda became the female best friend you never had. Both of you spoke at length about your experiences, forming a type of therapy session that involved wine and dessert. No boys allowed so Bucky was forced to hang out with Steve and Sam.

You felt like you could tell her anything without Wanda judging you. So you told her the century long secret you and Bucky have been hiding.

At first you were scared, of course you would. Anyone else would turn their nose up in disgust if they were to learn that you and your brother were involved in a secret relationship. Zola had used your love for one another against the both of you as emotional blackmail.

Wanda doesn't blink when you tell her. "I already knew that."

Shocked, you gape at her making Wanda break out into a smile. "H-How? We're always so careful."

"I think I know you well enough to decipher the little looks you give each other." Wanda giggles at your blush.

"You. . . You don't think it's gross?"

Picking up at the timidness in your voice, her expression softens and she gathers you up in a big hug. "Of course not. I'll admit it's unorthodox, but what can you do when your heart's in love? You can yell at it as much as you want but it can't change what the heart truly wants. And Bucky" Her lips turn up in a teasing grin "well I don't blame you for being attracted to him."

Your laugh is mixed with tears of relief and squeeze Wanda tightly in your embrace.

You really had found a true friend in Wanda. Someone else who you would fiercely protect.

A hail of bullets follow after you and Bucky. You curse the narrow, darkened hallway. No windows for a hasty escape. You'd have to find a stairwell if you hoped to get out before one of the bullets catches you.

Bucky's strong hand grips your wrist as he swings the both of you around a corner.

Voices crackled over your communicator situated in your ear. Tony had been instructing you on the layout and the easiest exits to get to. But you and Bucky were underground, messing up the signal required for communication.

Splintering pain smacks against your shoulder and you nearly fall face first from the impact were it not for Bucky's grip on you.

Eyes flashing over to your shoulder you see the bleeding exit wound. You curse under your breath. "I'm hit."

The both of you are still running through the labyrinth of halls. Bucky slows a bit, wanting to tend to you, but shouting could be heard at your heals.

"Fuck." Bucky spits when he see's the red of your life staining your uniform.

"I'm fine. We need to keep going." You urge him on, pulling at his arm but Bucky isn't moving.

His eyes don't leave your shoulder, heat raising to his face. Detachment leaves his expression void.

"Bucky!"

The transformation was instantaneous. He wasn't Bucky anymore.

"Those fuckers." His teeth grind out.

"Bucky it's fine. We need to-" He pushes you down to the ground and turns to the opposite end you'd been running from. "Bucky! Stop! We need to get out of here!" The pain in your shoulder was starting to really get to you. Blood seeps between your fingers as you attempt to put pressure upon it.

He lifts up his gun and heads straight into the fray. Moving with the precision of a well trained machine, he lets the Winter Soldier creep up on him until he was that same bloody assassin under HYDRA control. You marvel at the magnificence of your brother. He made killing look like an art form. Stray bullets graze him and bounce off the vibranium that made up his left arm. Bucky became water, weaving and flowing between your assailants. Swiftly taking them out two by two.

Finally there was silence and Bucky returns to your side. Blood spattered all over him. Most of it was from his enemies. Piercing blue eyes examine your shoulder. He kneels down and touches you gingerly.

"Are you okay, doll? Only one hit you, right?" So different from how he'd been a second ago, his voice his trembling as he checks you over.

"Ugh, I feel so stupid." You mutter while Bucky rips a piece of his pants to wrap around your shoulder. You wince when he has to tighten your impromptu bandage. Bucky flinches when he catches your wince of pain. Whispering out a soft apology. His hands are shaking though which is very unlike Bucky. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I can't stand seeing you bleed." He breathily replies. "It reminds me of what HYDRA did to you. And. . . I was unable to protect you."

You reach up and hold his hand. "Bucky. . ." His fingers squeeze the life out of your own but you could hardly care.

"It haunts me the most, more than anything else they did to me." Slowly he gathered you in his arms. Giving such care to not jostle your wounded shoulder. "Your screams. . . your blood. . ."

Wrapped up in him, you felt so small. So safe.

"And there was nothing I could do to protect the love of my life." That last part has him shuddering.

Your smile has the tears that'd been in your eyes spill over your lower lashes. You reach up to kiss him, digging your fingers into his mess of black hair.

When you pull away, his gaze is filled with stars and reverence.

"I'm still here." You remind him with another kiss. He chases after your lips when you break away to start speaking again "Lets get out of here. I'm pretty sure I've lost quite a bit of blood."

No other words needed, Bucky lifts you up in his arms and carries you the rest of the way out.

After getting checked out by the medic at the Tower, you and Bucky head to the common areas where you find the rest of the Avengers.

Wanda stands immediately and rushes to you. "Are you okay? We heard you get shot!" She spots the large bandage around your shoulder, finding the culprit.

"It's nothing." You reassure her with a smile and give her a side hug. When your attention returns to the others though. . . "Did something happen?"

All of them were staring at you and Bucky. Steve goes to Bucky and whispers something in his ear, his face grave.

Bucky goes rigid.

"You getting shot wasn't the only thing we heard. . ." Natasha reveals.

Your heart plummets. No. . .

"While your comms may not have been working, our's were." Tony sighs out. "I'm actually not surprised with your Flowers in the Attic reveal."

Seeing your disbelief, Wanda holds your arm. "Everyone has known the bond you and Bucky share."

Bruce whispers "Completely took me by surprise."

Sam rolls his eyes. "C'mon, it was obvious that there was a little more to their relationship."

You want to hide yourself away from the embarrassment. They were talking like you and Bucky weren't just standing there. This was not how you wanted the others to find out. Ideally they never would have if it were up to you.

"It's okay," Wanda pats your arm "They don't think any differently about the either of you. You guys are still our friends."

Bucky arches a brow, scanning all of the faces in the room in an attempt to detect any hidden disdain. He stares particularly hard at Tony who lifts his hands up defensively. "Hey, it's cool by me if you're schtupping your sister. I've seen enough of it in Game of Thrones that I'm completely unphased."

Natasha shakes her head. "Tony is putting it very crudely, but he's right. And so is Wanda. You and Bucky have saved all of our asses numerous times. We trust you with our lives. And, it's easy to see the genuine love you have."

"Definitely will take some getting used to, but it makes sense." Bruce casts you a gentle smile. "I highly doubt anyone will love Bucky as much as you do and vice versa. Hell, remember when Bucky nearly smashed a guy's face in at the bar? Just because he got a little handsy with you."

"Thankfully I didn't have to." Bucky fondly remembers and lovingly looks down at you. "You broke four of his fingers."

Sam laughs. "We had to pull her off of the poor guy."

Sheepishly smiling at everyone's laughter, you feel so warm inside. You worried about how they would react if the truth were ever revealed. Feared that they would shun you and Bucky. The Avengers had become your family after all. And they cherished both you and Bucky.

You grab Bucky's metal hand. His lips cock up in a curious grin.

HYDRA may still linger in the depths of your sleep, but you find solace in knowing that you and your brother Bucky have found refuge and a new purpose thanks to Steve and the rest of his friends. You could trust them with this huge part of your life.

Tags:

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

@bakugospartner

[xblackreader]

My Attoye’s Kids Headcanons!

💗 They have two twins (16 a boy and girl) three triplet daughters (10) and one last son (4) 🧞

• Names:

‘Rhino and the Eel’ Twins: Tadeas and Xyanza (16)

Piranha Triplets: Yolotli, Kuhle, and Nobomi (10)

Youngest son: N’kani (2)

• info:

The triplets and Xyanza can all breathe water and air. Xyanza also has siren song.

Tadeas can not. His bones are dense and his blood can withstand deep water pressures but he cannot breathe water. So when he visits Talokan he has to only wear a mask. Tadeas wants to be just like his Father and trained hard to be able to hold his breathe for a long time and swim like his sisters but he still is jealous.

His sister has always been very sweet but a great protector of her brother and often of others. She hates bullies and does not like it when people are harmed or picked on without reason. The twins used to be attached at the hip until they started training.

Tadeas showed no mercy and Xyanza was disgusted by his indifference to innocent lives. Now they fight often (verbally and physically).

Their oldest son had the same kinda relationship with rhinos as his dad does with sharks. He loved the rhinos since he was very small.

He’s very large like his father and has long dread locs and wears rhino horns and armor like his fathers, he uses an axe that’s wider and flatter than his fathers battle axe.

But when he’s really young he witnesses a bunch of poachers kill one of his favorite rhinos. He tells his dad. And Attuma absolutely slaughters them for trespassing and just bc

and since then Tadeas kinda has always had a distaste of people from colonizing countries. In his mind, they are good for nothing but stealing and murdering. He has no empathy for most colonizers or even just surface countries at all.

He has no problem killing many even if they’re innocent but his twin sister who is a training Dora/midnight angel always stops him. She’s the voice of reason.

His sister is a tall muscular but pretty lean woman who is more of stealth person rather than a mercenary like her brother. They call her the eel bc on her missions she is able to slip on and out of licked down high security easily. She doesn’t like to kill but she’s very quick and her blade is untraceable so if she must take a life, it won’t be torturous even if they’re a monster. She’s the little assassin.

Xyanza was trained to be a part of her mother’s Army, but she decided instead, she wants to be a war dog like Nakia. She hasn’t told her mother though. She’s a bit rebellious bc she doesn’t really listen, where as her twin brother absolutely worships the ground their parents walk on with some exceptions .

She and Nashuri’s daughters are a war dog team but keep it secret from their parents.

Then there are the three triplet 9 year olds, Yolotli, Kuhle, and Nobomi. the village calls them ‘the pirahnas’. they all have sharp teeth and speak very little, people don’t usually listen to them so they keep their opinions to themselves, but they be plotting

though they are sweet young girls,, they’re just… feral. They like going on hunts with their brother and they’re just ‘cute little piranhas’. If a diver looking for vibranium is seen by them, they will try their best to tear the diver apart.

The youngest son is just a baby and doesn’t have any nicknames or anything but does have the cutest little baby hands and is very chubby.

Okoye is still a war general, but strays away from the battle field these days. She could still kick ass but she chooses to step back from the physical field unless absolutely necessary.

Attuma is still a general as well but he has continued to serve under Namor and chooses not to retire. not much WAR going on lately though so he is a very present and loving father. Okoye’s more of the busy one, though she tries her very best to be active and it works for everyone.

• Scenario:

I’m imagining maybe while Xyanza and (Nashuris daughter) were trying to free some Prisoners of war from a British battle ship on the Indian Ocean, she gets found and cornered but her brother is there to not only save her, but bust her. Saying he’s going to tell their parents what she’s been doing. He’s a snitch fr but he has her back.

She tells him how they can’t just let this ship leave and he says it wasn’t for no reason - he found some vibranium that had obviously been smuggled from Wakandan borders. They had figured out the export was being sold by black market traders disguised as tourists. So Tadeas says he’ll help them take the ship down and then take all the credit when they’re back home 🙄🤣. Nashuris daughter is like fine idc

Then he is stabbed through the shoulder with a vibranium whale gun by a surviving ship captain, they’re both captured and Xyanza is knocked out.

They wake up to find themselves in a vibranium cell on another ship heading to an undisclosed location to be tested on. They’re all trapped there as their weapons have been confiscated.

Then they hear a bunch of screams, gunshots and commotion and who bursts into the door.

Shuri. The Queen of Wakanda. The Black Panther.

Her mask falls and she is relieved to see all the kids but also furious that they not only left but engaged without authority.

They can only imagine what their other parents are feeling.

So the parents are all there, Namor is getting rid of crew members who turn out to be American Marines and Other Goverment Allies. Shuri is hacking into the system and releasing the kids. Okoye is observing the ship and interrogating the captain. Attuma is in a rage he is absolutely wrecking the ship, it’s sinking.

The kids are soon faced with their parents, being scolded mainly by Okoye and Namor, Shuri is jumping in sometimes but Attuma is deathly silent.

Nashuri! Kid and Tadeas are facing most blame. They will all be punished however.

“Baba! Please I was trying to help Talokan and Wakanda. You must believe me!” Tadeas pleaded.

Attuma stepped forward and looked down at his son, who he left in charge of all of the kids.

“I have given you far too much responsibility. This has proven to me you are not ready to handle that.”

Attuma takes his sons axe, which he gave to him on his 11th birthday. And His son is devasted, shocked into silence.

All the children are ordered to return to Wakanda and told they are forbidden to leave until further notice. They’ve all been benched from their training and anything except school.

Nashuri kid is taken from public schooling and absolutely grounded.

TBC 👀 for more info click here

[whump-a-la-mode]

I’ve had this in my brain for a while now and may eventually write something on it but your welcome to have a crack.

Whumpee is tied to a chair, their blood slowly being drained as whumper is tasked with getting info from them. Over time whumpee feels the effects, it’s up to you to decide if they give the info or not.

I just love the reverse blood transfusion vibes idk

This is such an interesting prompt, and I really hope that you like what I came up with! I might be willing to continue this as well, if there is enough interest. I leaned a bit away from the pure interrogation theme and made this more into a hero villain piece, but I hope you like it nonetheless.

Also Tumblr updated their text editor and I Do Not Like It.

Given the subject matter that this piece entails, reader discretion is advised. There is very very minimal mention of needles, nor is there any mention of the IV being placed, only some minor description of the IV itself. However, there is a great deal of discussion of blood. Please be aware of this.

CW//Blood, childhood bullying, isolation, natural disasters, superhero-typical violence, medical themes, gaslighting, delirious narrator

Whumpee's blood was special.

They'd always been told that. They'd discovered it when they were young, of course, when cuts and scrapes from running and playing magically stitched themselves back together within moments. They'd only heard the word 'powers' in the second grade, when some particularly reckless soccer-playing had resulted in a broken arm and a trip to the hospital. Of course, by the time they arrived, the limb that mended itself together flawlessly.

They'd never wanted to be a superhero. Not many in their position did. Yet, it did not take long for the ostracization to become too great to bear. The only place for a freak, after all, was among those of their own kind.

So, they'd become a hero. Of course, they were never the one dominating headlines. Nothing about Whumpee's powers was flashy, not like Leader, not like the ones that could shoot fire from their hands or fly.

Admittedly, they'd never really minded. Notoriety brought danger. They'd seen several of their own teammates fall, yet, they always stayed standing. It was easy to stay out of the line of fire when they were always on the ground, evacuating civilians, distracting henchmen, letting the real heroes do their work.

No one cared about the littlest member of the bunch. They barely ever made it into the press photographs, even. Sometimes, they were simply hidden behind another hero, too short to be seen. More often, they were off somewhere else, digging injured civilians from building rubble. After all, there was little risk to them entering a collapsing building. Any injuries would be healed by the time they found their target.

For a superhero, they had quite a peaceful life.

Capture wasn't exactly unheard of for those engaged in superheroics. The more important heroes had training for it; what to do in captivity, how to act, how to get help, how to withstand torture.

Not the youngest, though. Why would Whumpee ever need something like that? They were home every night for dinner.

Why would anyone ever want the youngest. Why would anyone ever want-

"It's extremely potent." Whumper spoke, voice echoing through the small room as they ran a hand over Whumpee's arm. They couldn't help but squirm under the touch; Whumper's hands were terribly cold. "But there's only so much we can do with remnants."

Whumpee allowed their wide-eyed gaze to look upwards, gazing upon their tormentor. The stranger wore a mask over their face, gloves over their hands, and a wicked smile in their eyes. Whumpee did not know them, but they certainly knew Whumpee.

They barely remembered the night before. They'd been walking home after a fight downtown. Of course, they usually rode home with their team, but the hospital had needed help with triage. It'd been a late night, and they were ready to curl up in their bed and go to sleep.

Then, there had been headlights, men from the alley, a needle in their neck-

Whumpee had woken up in the chair. It was a faulty imitation of comfort, a dentist's chair leaned back, providing support for their head, their legs, and holding their arms in place on armrests. Of course, the comfort was only surface level, and was mostly dashed by the straps holding tight every part of their body.

An extra restraint, a straight piece of plastic, held their right arm uncomfortably straight, keeping them from twisting away. Their right arm, of course, was notable in another way-- That was where the IV had been placed, a clear tube run red flowing from their vein into a collection vessel nearby.

They tried not to look. It was terribly hard not to look.

How much had been taken already? The tube was thin, but it was solid in its red color, and the vial was already filling up quite a lot...

The very thought made them queasy. Was the pressure behind their eyes from fear or blood loss?

"Obviously, the best way to collect what we need is, well, from the source." Whumper's smile could be inferred, even behind their mask. "But you're not just here for that."

They disappeared for a moment, leaving Whumpee's extremely limited field of view completely. When they returned, they were sitting at Whumpee's side on a wheeled stool, leaning slightly forwards.

"Do you know what your blood can do, Whumpee?"

Whumpee stared up at the ceiling, leather strap digging into their forehead. They could barely see their assailant in their peripheral vision. A bead of sweat rolled from their forehead to their neck, making them shiver.

"It- It heals me." They tried. That was obvious information, right? Anyone with Google or a TV tuned to the news channel could find out Whumpee's power, it wasn't exactly secret.

"It heals you, yes. Do you think that's all it does?"

"I don't-"

"You've saved more lives than you could ever realize, Whumpee."

"What are you talking about?"

Whumper grinned again. Whumpee was getting a terrible sense of vertigo.

"Samantha Walker, 59, a mother with two children." Whumper began. "A delivery worker. Her visit to the Anderson office building was meant to be short. She never even signed in. When the building fell, no one knew to look for her."

Whumpee tried to think back to the Anderson rescue mission, the names. They'd been going off of employee records, who had clocked in for the day. They'd found them all...

"You had left without her. She had been struck in the jugular by sharp debris. She was dying, until she laid down in a patch of your blood.

It healed her. She managed to find help and escaped unscathed.

Did you know about her?"

"N-No."

"What about Dennis Knelson? You searched the whole Washington complex for him, but he was nowhere to be found. You stayed on the search till midnight, but never found anything.

The floor had collapsed beneath him. He'd fallen into the sewer. When the cleanup crews came, they washed some of your blood down the storm drain.

It gave him the strength to get up and escape."

"My-"

"Shelby Arkansas. A search and rescue worker. You must remember her, don't you? You had to crawl into that cave to save her. A single drop of your blood reinflated her collapsed lung. It was a miracle that you found her uninjured, wasn't it?

She was injured. You saved her.

Do you understand, Whumpee? Do you understand how great your gift is?"

"I didn't know, I-"

Whumper reached forward, placing a frigid hand on their shoulder.

"Shh, it's alright. It's a lot to take in, I know.

There was a research study done recently, by Metropolis University. You know what they found? Out of every hero in your team, you have saved the most lives, by an exponential degree."

"Is that- That why you want my blood?" They'd never known, never tried it on another person... "If you'd let me up, I- I'll donate! As much as I can! I didn't know what it could do- I'm sorry!"

Whumper let out a low chuckle as they brushed Whumpee's sweat-soaked bangs from their face.

"Can you tell me how your team treats you, my dear?"

"My... Team? What about my team?"

"How they treat you. Oh, goodness, are you getting delirious already?"

Whumpee wasn't quite sure of the answer to that one. Their vision was getting blurry, but maybe that had something to do with the glaring spotlight shining down on them, or the terrible headache...

"My team... I love my team..."

"Do you?" Whumper wiped away a tear with their thumb. "Do they love you back?"

"Mhm."

"Is that why they let you walk home alone, in the dark?"

"I was out late-"

"And you weren't even on stage at that benefit."

"I-"

"Do you think they're even looking for you?"

Whumpee knew the answer to that one.

No.

Their team would notice their absence the next time they were needed, and not a moment before. After all, they didn't often train, didn't often hang out with the rest. They were a team member, sure, but...

No, no! Their team cared! Whumpee was just shy, that was all. There was nothing wrong with being shy.

"Of course." Whumpee whispered.

"Is that so? There was quite some hesitation, there. Oh, poor little Whumpee. "You spend quite the time at their base, then, don't you?"

"Mhm. I live there..."

Their tongue felt heavy in their mouth. It was so hard to speak...

The light above was getting dimmer.

"Then you can tell us where it is, can't you?"

"Mm... No, it's... It's secret."

"Secret, yeah? Why's that?"

"Can't tell... Might get attack'd..."

"Well, what does it matter if your team gets attacked? With how terribly they treat you, surely it's exactly what they deserve."

Whumpee weakly yanked on their restraints.

They watched the level of blood in the vial climb higher, higher...

"No. They... They're..."

Whumpee barely noticed as drool began to roll down the side of their cheek. Whumper tapped them a few times in the center of their forehead.

"Come on, Whumpee. You know where it is, just tell us. That's all. Then you can have some water, how does some water sound?"

Water sounded amazing; their mouth was dry and terribly cracked. But- But, no! They couldn't...

"Water... Please..."

"Nuh-uh. Not until you tell us. Now, where were you going? Where were you walking home to? Just tell us, Whumpee."

The vial of blood was nearly filled to its top.

Whumpee's eyes fluttered closed.

"Goodnight. Goodnight sleepytime." They slurred.

Whumper laughed, a low, chortling thing.

"Alright, Whumpee." They brushed their hand through their captive's hair. "We'll talk some more when you're feeling better.

You're going to be a lovely addition to our team."

[colesabi]

Have any of your fics diverted from the original idea/plot outline?

Yes and no lol. For the most part, all of my fic’s main plots have remained relatively intact from start to finish. I’ve changed a few details along the way and inserted characters that weren’t originally in the plot but have stayed consistent in what I outlined for the most part. There are a few specifics that come to mind but their pretty minor changes:

For ‘When Time Runs Out’: I originally was going to have Dr. Rosst be a lot more involved in Leon’s torture and was going to have him start physically torturing him but decided against it since I felt it veered too far into the torture porn trope and figured Leon had probably been trained to withstand physical torture to some degree so felt that the psychological aspect felt more realistic so I kept that as the central focus.

Piers wasn’t originally intended to be in the morgue fic. I was just going to have some nameless BSAA guy in there but decided to place him in sort of at the last minute (more as a means for me to practice writing him and also, because I love his character and it seemed to fit right with the story).

I did not originally intend for a flashback chapter for the morgue fic either. I think I had originally just intended to place vague mentions of what had happened between Chris and Leon that had lead to their situation but once I had finished chapter 4, it became apparent it was necessary for the plot and I’m glad I added it lol (along with the two-part epilogue).

Now, I did also heavily consider changing what I’m planning for the 🍯 based on some comments I had gotten earlier on but after careful thought and consideration, I’m sticking with my original plan. Only time will tell if it was the right decision or not but I feel like it’s the best path. (I’m being very vague and I’m sure that’s going to pique some interest lol) >:3

thanks for the ask!!!

[bauresurrected]

If you were going to recommend one episode as THE Emily episode, what would it be? why?

i have an 104 page document about this that doesn't even go past season six I think.

this is hard.

it's an easy answer to say demonology. you get a real sense for who she is, and who she was before the series. you learn about her efforts to fit in and what it resulted in. you learn why she is the way she is, and it's the start of her and Rossi being close.

but that's an easy answer. because it IS the Emily episode.

the lauren episode, where we learn about her time as a spy and what she had to do to keep herself and another child safe really ... just sets you up to understand her entire life. why she did what she did. WHY she's so good at adapting, compartmentalizing. you can contextualize how her past as a diplomat's daughter turned her into someone adaptable for a life as a spy. you learn the depths to which she'd go to protect a child.

but it's a hard episode to recommend because, a lot like demonology, it IS a hard watch. and you lose her at the end of it. there's a real life best friend out there who can attest to the fact that when we watched this live I sat behind him on my bed, sobbing. we'll call this friend thorin. sorry, thorin. thank you for dealing with teenage gay me.

i go anywhere without recommending minimal loss. she and Reid are held hostage and Emily outs herself as an FBI agent to protect him. it's the first time we see her in major danger. she keeps passing the team secret codes. you get a real sense of her strength as an agent. you also get what I call the three stooges - Reid, Morgan, Emily - out in fool force. I meant full force. I mistyped. but it's staying. it's one of my favorite episodes of the ENTIRE show.

children of darkness, where she interacts a lot with a teen who lost her entire family, and at the end of it, asks hotch if she could try to adopt the girl. hotch tells her she needs to know she can still be objective, and she tells him she needs to know she can still be human. at the end of it, JJ tells her she can see it. her and kids. it's such a good episode. in the context of her and all the other interactions with kids too.

WHEELS UP. the entire team are in a car accident right after Reid returns from prison, but Emily gets kidnapped by one of the most terrifying unsub they've ever had - and she's held captive and drugged, making her believe she's in a hospital with him and can't move. you see her go into old spy training to withstand torture. you see how much she relies on the team. and she's doing all of this to save hotch and Jack, who aren't even on the show anymore. she is so full of love, and strength, and you see her break a little. and honestly she's just - haha!! hehe! it's fine it's fine.

other honorable mentions - the one where her mom is there. it's not a necessary watch but it is fun. 200. I didn't put it here because it's more about JJ than it is about Emily, but it's SUCH a fantastic representation of her. It is however a BRUTAL fucking watch. 7 seconds you get to see her go absolutely feral to, again, protect a kid - and it's one of the most haunting cases in the entire show. the one where the guy is taking people's hearts and using his kid to lure them is also a fantastic show of who Emily is as a person, and there's a case later where that kid comes back.

end of the day - minimal loss, demonology, wheels up, children of darkness are the ones i'd say top the list.

[ice-and-lightning]

Headcanon - Arlan || Life At the Facility

This is about his time at the facility where he was created and spent his first five years. If it gets a little rambly, I apologise. I tend to write these things in one go. Things in this most might also get added to.

TW: Child soldier, child abuse, torture, withholding food/water/sleep

If Arlan were to talk about his time at the facility, he would probably make it sound like a harsh boot camp. In reality, he was a lab rat and prisoner in the shape of a boy. Yes, things weren't awful all the time, but ti was also never good. There were no playtime (or other kids there), nothing fun at all. His days were filled with training and testing. Hand-to-hand combat of various kinds, weapons of various kinds and, of course, how to defend yourself against different types and use his own lightning.

None of this sounds too bad, until you consider that he was six when it all started and the fact that he got punished if failing. And who doesn't fail while still learning? The punishments varied depending on what it was for. A favourite from his main military trainer was to use ice. The man had ice powers and he liked using those to discipline Arlan, this included repeatedly freezing his dominant right hand, forcing him to use his left or use his right while in immense pain. The repeated use of this disciplining left permanent scars on Arlan's right hand and arm. It also left him with chronic pain, though that is usually manageable, he isn't even sure if it's physical or mental.

The worst punishment of the frozen kind was when he got full body frozen and had to rapidly teach himself how to control and use his lightning powers to set himself free. This is also how he has come to connect pain with success. Since failure lead to pain which eventually lead to success meant pain = good. It also taught him to withstand a large amount of pain and he often doesn't notice injuries until they are pretty severe due to this. Despite this, he really dislike cold and being cold, which is one reason he wears so many layers of clothes. It's the only type of pain that never brings any kind of satisfaction to him.

Another thing that was part of his training was to be able to function without sleep, food and water. Both separately and all together. That training always included trying to see for how long he could handle being without said thing (food/water/sleep). Food was generally treated as something used for nourishment and nothing else. He wasn't always given meals, but meal replacement shots that contained whatever nourishment he needed. Real food was only offered if he had done well and removed if done badly. It was never particularly good food, but it was something to chew and filled his stomach. Not until he met Asta did he realise that food could be pleasurable. This type of training, and punishment, really disturbed his sense of hunger, thirst and tiredness. It's no longer as bad as it once was, but Arlan still regularly requires to be remembered to take breaks, eat and sleep.

The actual science experiments happened more during the first year than later, while they were still learning from him, but throughout his stay there, he had medical exams regularly. Arlan has no clue what they checked. No one ever told him. He was always treated more as a thing than a person, especially by the scientists (or doctors, as he were told to call them, not that he ever spoke to any of them, he spoke make a handful of words to anyone during all his years there). It took him some time to learn that he is indeed a person and not a thing, though he's still to willing to sacrifice himself to others according to some people.

[thepotatofrog]

Reading the shit I wrote aged 12/13 is such an interesting experience because no did not have the most poetic and developed writing style but I had all the imagination of a reading-obsessed daydreamy autistic child and that imagination went to some dark places

The notebook’s like

story about a kid falling over in a race and being helped by a friend. yay

story about the unexplained disappearance of narrators older siblings, both on their thirteenth birthdays, reveals at the end that the narrator turns thirteen tomorrow

prose about how you don’t know how much you love someone until they’re not there any more, describing bleeding wounds scarring your heart, which made everyone in creative writing club very worried about me but which was actually just me being dramatic about my cousins moving further away

half a page about invisible mutant guinea pigs. i cannot remember what prompted this

67 pages about the last genetically engineered superhuman and the teenage spy who tracks her down, only to realise she’s sentenced her to experimentation torture and death in a government lab (which is also keeping lots of cloned kids in cells for similar purposes). Featuring violent concussions, chase scenes with sprained ankles, cutting tracking/drugging devices out of each other’s flesh with a pocket knife, and some more torture (I know we’ve trained you to withstand this but what if instead of hurting you we hurt your friend in front of you)

Cute little poem about the magical things in the world around us

A short story that I cried rereading about a very small child who doesn’t know she’s dying

Quite a lot of a cliché-packed fantasy story that begins with the sword-princess protagonist’s family being killed off one by one in mysterious circumstances, starting with the youngest brother falling out of a window game of thrones style (i had not watched game of thrones)

An equally clichéd boarding school story with no actual plot other than extremely unethical recruitment practices and a dead twin sister

Harry Potter fanfiction