#could be that my panic attacks manifest mostly with crying

[rainy-matcha]

whenever I see a fic where a character has a panic attack and another character helps them breathe in deeply like "Can you breathe with me?" or something like that it kinda instantly takes me out of it because I've literally never had someone know to do that for me in real life?? Maybe it's just me but idk do most people have enough basic knowledge on panic attacks to do that? And are also calm and collected and together enough in the moment to help someone like that? Idk man just feels unrealistic 🤷

[777rare]

☀️ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT.2💥

disclaimer :

DO NOT READ FURTHUR IF YOU ARE A MINOR!!

THIS CONTAINS MENTIONING OF seggs and bad words so please scroll if ur below 18+

THESE NOTES ARE ONLY A STUDY OF MINE AND HAS/HAS NOT BEEN PROVEN YET, SO IF IT DOES NOT RESONATE WITH YOU, FORGIVE ME AS IT WAS ONLY A STUDY/OBSERVATION OF MINE.

I DO NOT PILRIMIZE, COPY OR REWORD ANY OF MY FELLOW ASTROLOGY OBSERVERS POSTS AND I DEMAND THE SAME IN RETURN

Mercury in 1st house natives are very talkative beings lmao🙊

Mars in fixed signs(AQUARIUS,LEO,TAURUS,SCORPIO) won't take anybodys shit no matter what..if somebody ain't treating em right, they're always ready to fight back

Mars in cardinal signs(CAPRICORN,CANCER,LIBRA,ARIES) can control their temper and toleration levels when somebody's acting all shitty but when they can't take it anymore, you're done for.

Mars in mutable signs (PISCES,GEMINI,SAGITTARIUS,VIRGO) will most of the time tolerate ur shit and get pissed off internally. They won't show it although they do sometimes, its mostly always internal. suppressed anger and frustration.

Apollo-venus/neptune folks are very admiring. Apollo-venus/ 8th house people are charming and alluring whereas apollo-neptune/ 12th house people have ethereal or outwardly beauty. Apollo aspecting ascendant are attractive too. Ex: alexia demie has Apollo quintile venus, zendaya has Apollo in 8th house.

Adams-sun/moon/asc/Mc natives have a very masculine character or mascular body in a man's chart ex: Chris evans has Adam's trine sun, Dwayne Johnson has Adam's sextile moon.

people with aura/ascendant in harsh aspects with moon(esp. Square) could mean people sense ur aura/ energy to be "too emotional" or "cold ass bitch" vibe. the tension in these aspects can also manifest according to the placements, degrees and other aspects.

natives with sirene conjunct jupiter could have such a raw seducing energy and lots n lots of it by the way! They tend to have a very mysterious,sexy,alluring touch to them. its like they have this "cremé dé lá cremé" persona blended in them..it's just so fucking hot..I also feel these natives catch too much attention sometimes even when they don't intend on trying to catch anyone's attention. It can sometimes get really annoying for them too.

In your varuna persona chart usually I feel the native is born to gain world wide fame if their sun/moon conjunct asteroid varuna.

Melete-chiron/sun/moon/asc harsh aspects tend to become victims of anxiety disorders, panic attacks. Check the houses and signs to get more insight as well. Ex: zendaya has melete semi square moon and sesquiquadrate ascendant

Lacrimosa in 12th house natives emotions gets overwhelming when they're in bed or at night. These people could feel overwhelmed with grief and sadness at times and cry themselves to sleep

chiron in aquarius/ 11th house, can show a native getting severely wounded or experiencing trauma, anxiety, grief because of online platforms, social media, technology, anything techno like phones,laptops etc.also these natives never have good, honest friendships. It's always fake friends and getting cheated or left out by friends. These natives should be very careful when it comes to making friends as well. Ex: I have this placement and when I was 10 yrs old, my closest friend food poisoned me. still don't know why.

Saturn-venus natives are beautiful but it's somewhat of an energy that's sleeping in them or yet to sprout. These natives need to put in some self love and work to glow up, especially showing themselves love.these natives tend to dislike the way they look or always try to find some flaw in themselves but their beauty will truly shine only when they begin to love themselves and work on themselves more. (Esp. Harsh aspects)

Virgo lilith natives have a very reserved sex appeal. These people tend to be very picky and minimalistic when it comes to their sexual partners.people most of the time assume these natives to have less knowledge about sex but deep down these natives are just crazy internally. You'll know it when you meet a virgo lilith native.🤠💫Aspects and houses can differ too.

I feel like asteroids in special degrees 11°, 22°,0° also have a really strong or special effect on the native.

sun-mercury natives always look younger than their age. The native can also be very childish even after ageing so much.

Planets in Scorpio sign or where your scorpio is placed is where you keep things hidden, out of reach from others or have deep information about. Thats why when scorpio falls on someones ascendant they are seen as very mysterious and secretive. Ex: I have scorpio over 8th house and i keep my sexual life hidden(8H= sex,money,etc), my brother has scorpio in 3rd house and he knows a lot about my past than my mom, and also about the people in our neighborhood(3H= siblings,neighbours), my mother has scorpio moon so she does hide her emotions a lot. My sister has scorpio jupiter and she does lots and lots of researching and has a lot of knowledge about books and countries that most of the people don't know about.not even me🙂.

Pallas-ascendant(positive aspects) natives look wise and mature

Lots of planets aspecting to chiron can show a native who has been wounded so so many times in their life.

Sokrates conjunct neptune or in pisces/scorpio/ in 8th/12th house natives love deep conversations.they hate small talk and just wanna go so so deep.

Pallas conjunct neptune natives have so much spiritual wisdom.

Tone-pluto natives tend to have a raspy,deep touch to their voice.

Asteroids mentioned above :

apollo - 1862

Adams- 1996

Aura - 1488

Sirene - 1009

Varuna - 20000

Melete - 56

Lacrimosa - 208

Feel free to reblog and tag me when you do❤🙌🏻 Hope you all enjoyed. Thankyou.bye!❤ have a great day ahead!🏝☀️

[furiousgoldfish]

I have a question: So like uh... how can you be sure if you are traumatized? My mind keeps swapping between thinking I'm traumatized and thinking I just had a slightly weird childhood and I'm simply over-reacting like I always do. Also second question that is more optional and you might not know: If your parents are unable to save you from an unfortunate circumstance like say... a sister that is violent loud and angry to both you and the parents.... and you often were in distress from say... a sister that would scream hit and punch and took all the parent attention to them and left you alone and hiding in your room... then could that lead to you growing up with the same effect of neglect? I'm guessing you would want a more clear picture of what happened to answer either one of these question so here it is: My sister was and is (but way more stable) mentally ill. I spent most of my years in elementary from 2nd and up living in a house with somebody who can harass, mock, and sometimes hurt me at any moment. She did mostly calm stuff like only say "retard" to me for a stretch of time that feels infinite because I was autistic, and almost punch me but stop and make fun of me getting scared. Very rarely she would go above and beyond by trying to drown me over a dipute and locking me in her room and refusing to let me out because I couldn't fix her computer. I adapted though, I pretty much avoided my sister as much as I can until recently when she calmed down. One thing I could never escape though was the yelling, the screaming, the crying. Every time my sister would have a mental breakdown, which was a whole, whole, whole lot, she was loud and sometimes violent about it. I was hardly ever in the middle of it, I usually just hid in my room while being forced to hear my sister's screams and my parents trying to get her to stop with as little force as possible. It's hard to describe the emotions, and I can try all I want to make you understand what this was like but I won't ever succeed so I'll stop. My sister also tried to kill herself a lot and been in and out of the mental hospital a whole lot so there is that too. Also my parents were amazing, don't worry. The worst thing about my parents is that my dad is a bit emotional but he usually didn't engage with my sister when he could get angry so it hardly came up in a bad way but he did escalate a lot of situations. My Mom was understanding and calm and didn't really fight back against my sister but like... in a good way, it's hard to describe without you knowing my sister. Sorry for the slop of words, I was thinking about like 2 other things at once while typing this and I don't have the energy to correct anything.

You can be sure you're traumatized if you have trauma symptoms. Trauma symptoms can range from feeling low self worth, fear and anxiety around people or specific circumstances and events, struggling with feeling normal around people, struggling with thoughts of self doubt, self hate, severe guilt and shame for everything that was done to you, or what happened, to the more recognizable ones: flashbacks, nightmares, emotional flashbacks, panic and anxiety attacks, losing control over emotions, not being able to regulate emotions at all, feeling unstable, desperate and terrified of the past and feeling low feelings or even complete despair about the future. It's also visible in struggling to have close relationships, feeling like you have to keep secrets, like nobody would love you if they truly knew you, feeling uncomfortable with people being near you or touching you (non-threateningly), running into isolation to keep yourself safe, or finding safety in substances, obsessions, addictions. Trauma can also manifest in development of disorders like eating disorders, anxiety disorder, panic disorder, ocd, depression. There's a lot of more subtle symptoms, you can check this list to see if any of this applies to you: Link.

It's often that traumatized people feel like they might be over-reacting, which is caused by the low self worth mentioned above; people who have normal self worth and are not self-conscious about how their emotions might inconvenience others, thus they don't stop to think if they're over-reacting, and take their feelings at face value. If a feeling is there, it's there for a reason, and the reason is unlikely to be something you made up. Sometimes what people will see as over-reacting is simply reacting to a trigger; even if you feel like your reaction was exaggerated, it's because something in your brain reacted to prior trauma and felt the need to evoke strong reaction so you would protect yourself against this event repeating, as it traumatized you in the past.

For example, if someone reacts with terror to a dog, we'd call it an over-reaction, but if you then find out they were bitten as a child and almost died, then terror is completely appropriate. It's like that with emotional trauma too, if something damaged you so badly as a kid you felt like you would never recover, your brain will react with terror or very strong emotions, to make sure you stay away and keep yourself protected. So it's really just a logical reaction, if you consider the past event and what it did to your life.

The circumstances you lived in as a child definitely warrant a lot of trauma. You describe your sister's presence as an 'unfortunate circumstance', but I don't see even one hint that your parents put actual effort in protecting you. Two adults are absolutely able to pay attention to more than one child at the time, and it sounds like you got completely neglected, and left to make your own conclusions to why that is. And you decided that parents cannot be at fault, because they couldn't do any better. I believe they could, because no child has deserved to be ignored and left to endure insults, slurs, screaming, yelling, punching, mocking, harassment and hurt at any moment, without any protection or care. Your parents were responsible for protecting you, and caring for you at any moment that you might have gotten hurt. It doesn't matter if they had 'a lot on their plate', because you are a human being they were responsible for protecting, and they failed you.

I can think of many things that could have been done differently to protect you, your sister could have been put in a place where she couldn't reach you, you could have been in a presence of a parent or a caretaker at all times to make sure nobody can hurt you, you could have been put in someone else's care as soon as it was obvious that your sister was hurting you, you could have been asked about it and comforted and a different solution could have been reached in order to make sure you live your childhood protected from all this.

Having one child that is a lot to manage does not mean you can now ignore all your other children and leave them to be hurt consistently because 'you cannot be bothered to pay attention to all of your kids' Also it sounds like instead of handling the child that was causing violence, they were escalating the situation and making it worse for you. Leaving one child to lash out at another is unacceptable, and it is both neglect and abuse. Protection from abuse is a part of what your parents are responsible for, and they failed you. And I can see you care so much for their good image, you're protecting them even as you're trying to talk about how they left you to fend for yourself in a world where you were harmed. Imagine if they felt that kind of compassion for you, and ran to protect you whenever you were alone with someone who was hurting you. You're showing more care for them in here, than they did for you in your childhood.

This had to be really hard for you to read, and I'm sorry for being so blunt. I'm not trying to tell you how you should see them, I'm just angry that you were put thru so much, and it didn't have to be like that. You know your situation better than I do, and if I'm completely wrong about everything, that's completely possible and you do not have to accept my opinion, your own is more important. I hope you're never left to fend for yourself in a world where others are likely to hurt you, that's not okay for a child to go thru, and it's painful and traumatic to an adult as well.

[kanona56]

Do you have any headcanons for Philip or any of the other killers/survivors?

Oh goodness, I have loads. I could go on and on really, but for this ask I'll stick with Philip. Let me know if you'd like to know about some others. ^^

I hc Philip as ethnically Igbo, which is one of the larger tribes of Nigeria and are mostly found in the southeast areas of the country. There's lots of evidence in his lore that points to this being the case, and I've made a Tumblr post about it before detailing how I came to this hc!

Adding onto my first hc, Philip's tome lore hints that he not only was there during the war, but was also a survivor of the Anti-Igbo progrom of 1966, in which a massacre was committed against the Igbo people, presumably from soldiers of the opposing Hausa-Fulani people and/or those native to Northern Nigeria who aligned with the growing hatred of the Igbo people during that time. I therefore like to hc that Philip is also a genocide survior.

His adoptive mother, Funanya, was born Igbo but married Hausa. When war broke out and she lost her husband, she tried to flee to the south with her children when she found Philip. Because it was extremely dangerous for an orphaned Igbo boy to be in the north where the war and killings took place, she taught him everything she could about the Hausa culture, including their muslim-based religion, language, and traditions. It's because of her that Philip was able to survive by pretending to be Hausa.

I'm sure I've made it obvious enough, but Philip has some severe and untreated C-PTSD. C, because his trauma spans over years of his life and cannot be considered one singular event. His symptoms tend to manifest as psychogenic tremors, prone to panic attacks, dissociation, heightened anxiety and vivid nightmares. Daytime flashbacks are rare for him, but if stressed out enough and exposed to a major trigger, they can and will happen to him as well. The smell of blood, the sound of gunfire and fire are his three biggest and most prevalent triggers.

Philip developed alcoholism as an unhealthy coping mechanism. He's an extremely emotional and depressed drunk, the kind of person who's pretty much the opposite of the fun party drinker. He's prone to very quickly losing control of his own emotions and crying instead. Drinking is the only way he knows how to knock himself out enough to avoid vivid, PTSD driven nightmares of Nigeria.

On a way less depressing note, Philip is lactose intolerant! But he'll 100% sacrifice his tummy every now and then for a good bowl of ice cream.

Philip is left-handed, but learned very early on to not use his left hand when interacting with others because it is considered rude and taboo in Nigerian culture (and generally in many other African cultures). His parents understood that his brain is just wired differently so they never forced or trained him into right-handedness, but they both kinda taught him early on to be mindful to use his right hand in public for things other than throwing or writing.

I hc Philip as a demisexual (possibly biromantic as well, but that's not something he's ever bothered to explore). He's the kind of person who definitely strikes me as ace, not ever having a sexual interest because he's such a lonely person and is just not immediately attracted to anyone at all. However, Philip is also a deeply emotional man and relies on them a lot, so it's only when he's developed a bond with someone that he'll start to develop that physical attraction. He quite literally NEEDS that emotional/romantic connection in order to be able to engage in sex, let alone enjoy it. Casual stuff is a total no for him. He tried it only one or two times as a troubled teenager and quickly found that he did NOT enjoy the experience. He just can't do it.

Philip's love language is both touch and undivided attention. He's the kind of person who is deeply devoted to his partner and, once he feels safe and secure in the relationship, will give you his whole heart. He's kind of terrible at speaking because he's such an introverted person, so he expresses his love through physical touch as well as almost always paying attention to his partner and their needs.

In terms of intimacy, Philip as an ace person isn't really all that excited about sex. He'll still definitely enjoy it with his special person, and he'll most definitely initiate it every now and then because he does find his partner physically attractive since he's deeply emotionally connected to them, but to him sex is a bonding experience and less of something to do just for fun. He's extremely romantic in bed - eye contact, kisses, little praises, holding hands, slower pace, you name it. His entire focus will be to please his partner and not himself. He doesn't need or care much about reaching climax, he'll be perfectly fulfilled with the experience knowing his partner feels good and is satisfied.

Since he'd moved to the US, Philip is a bit insecure of his accent because it really makes him stand out. Over time he's managed to tone it down significantly, but it's still there and still very noticeable, just perhaps easier to understand. When he'd first moved, he had a hyperfixation on touching up his English and sounding as well spoken as possible in hopes it would minimize his chances of being picked on as a black immigrant in the country. This was the 1970s, after all.

I'm sure this also goes without saying lol, but Philip is way more attractive than he gives himself credit for. Yes, half his face has been burned, but he'd been lucky enough to put himself out when it happened fairly quickly, so the damage didn't get too far deep into his skin. The burn scars haven't really disfigured his handsome features all that much, just changed the texture and color of his skin. Still, he often feels ugly because of how he looks.

Because Philip had nearly starved to death as a child in Nigeria a number of times, he kinda has an obsession with being as physically healthy as he can be. He runs a lot and does a decent amount of exercise to keep himself lean and in shape, because it feels good having a sense of control over his own body. He never EVER wants to feel malnourished again in his life.

Philip is a very tall man, like 6 feet and some inches and fairly broad in the shoulders. Despite his size, he's developed a natural talent for being extremely silent and light on his feet. When he wants to, Philip can move as quietly as a mouse and is pretty agile on top of that. It's a useful trait to have in the realm (in the context of OIN at least)- you'd think a big guy like him is an easy target to chase, but Philip has the impressive capacity to be deceivingly stealthy and hard to track.

Math (unsurprisingly) is his favorite subject, and Philip is also highly intelligent in this regard. He's a very quick analytical thinker and can do complex math problems in his head fairly well. It comes in handy with his job in Autohaven, to be able to make quick calculations and measurement conversions.

I definitely have more hcs but these are some of the big ones that I can articulate off the top of my head. Thanks for asking!

[lyonfreddie]

prolonged wailing and gnashing of teeth under the cut!!!

let me just preface this by saying that i never get super personal on here anymore but i really just need to vent!!!!

i love my job mostly because i love my coworkers. i work in development/fundraising at a pretty big museum and our team of 5 is all a bunch of young professional women with Good Taste and Witty Banter. like we are all successionpilled. i would hate my job so much if i didn’t work with these people. last week, my favorite coworker announced she was moving to another city and got a job there to be with her long-distance fiancé (he got a tenure track job and obviously... cannot move lmao), and i was SO SAD because she is SO COOL and SO POISED and i want to be just like her, but i took comfort in the fact that we would still have 4/5 of our lovely team still together.

and then my boss pulls me aside first thing this morning and tells me SHE’S LEAVING TO LMFAO

like. i’m literally going to go insane. after march 16, our team of 5 will be a team of 3, and we won’t have either a leadership giving manager OR a membership manager. i print member cards and assemble renewal/new member packets once a week each week as my Big Project but before my boss leaves she’s going to teach me how to do pretty much everything she does that she hasn’t taught me yet. which is really, really nice of her, and also kind of a vote of confidence—i seriously doubt she would take another job if she wasn’t absolutely sure she was leaving her membership program in capable hands. 

my boss is the best boss i’ve ever had. she’s so organized and she knows everything about our museum’s institutional history because she was working there before it was even built. she has always given me clear instructions and honest feedback and she’s just so, so funny. she’s great. we’re practically the same person and have the same interests. and i still have so much left to learn from her. it almost feels unfair that she’s leaving, but i’m an actual adult now and i know this is the correct career move for her. she’s not even going that far. she’s going to work at another museum that is like 800 feet away from us.

but i’m still SO fucking sad. i’ve been crying on and off all day, including at work, where i had to hold it all in. the major gifts officer saw me at the printer and was like ‘you must be feeling sad, huh’ and all i could say was ‘yeah’ and she patted me on the back and i almost lost it in the middle of the office. like... GOD

it’s so embarrassing. i pride myself on being very cool and calm and collected, and the rest of my team always tells me it’s nice how i’m so calm all the time, especially when we’re running events. but i literally walked home today and then sat on the floor of my apartment and bawled for 5 straight minutes until i was out of breath. lol. i am going to be a wreck for every single bit of their farewells and it is not going to be pretty. i’m so sad. i’m so scared. what the fuck.

i’ve also just like... been On Edge for the past week or so in a way that hasn’t really manifested since grad school. my first semester of grad school was when i developed really bad anxiety that only manifested as physical symptoms—nausea, diarrhea, constipation, loss of appetite, insomnia, weird painful muscle cramps, etc. to the point where i literally thought i was on the verge of death! i’ve been reading a book about the salem witch trials and couldn’t help but notice that the “fits” described by the “afflicted” were weirdly similar to how my anxiety jumped out, save for, like, hallucinations. it’s a good book and i want to finish it but just thinking about the similarities almost gave me a panic attack one night... which is crazy. and then i woke up this morning and found out my stupid hemorrhoid is flaring up again. which, in retrospect, just seems like an omen. lmao.

if there is any silver lining to this at all, it’s that there is a possibility i may be promoted to membership manager. i’m currently at the coordinator level, but when my boss broke the news to me, she said that we’d be working with our external membership consultant (who i’ve met! she’s great.) to help keep renewal notices and regular mailings going out. presumable until i’m up to speed. i’ve been at this museum for over a year, and full-time for 7 months. they might wait a few months, until i get closer to a year as a FT employee. or they might just hire a new boss for me. i’m ok staying at the coordinator level for a little while longer; it’s nice not having to worry a TON about budgets and financial goals. but i could probably do it if pressed. and getting a big ass salary bump would be nice.

if you made it all the way to the end, thank you for being cringe with me 🤝 the reason this is here and not in my journal is because there was clearly too much to put into my journal without having my hand cramp up. i’ll be ok. i’ll get through this. but it’s gonna fucking suck 😭

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Painful Use of Powers

Tim and Jon are having a friendly discussion that is rather rudely interrupted when Jon accidentally Beholds something. They powers of the eye have faded after the world is back to normal, and it makes Jon very ill.

Cw panic (not detailed), vomiting (he vomits static so like.... not anything gross just weird), food mention, baby shark

This prompt is from the bingo on my tumblr, feel free to send a prompt, a character, and let me know if you want a drawing or a fic!  The starred ones I already have prompts for, the crossed out ones are ones I have already posted.  Bingo by @celosiaa​!

“It’s… been pretty strange.  About half the people I talk to remember everything about… well, you know.  And the other half don’t seem to remember anything at all.  Just remember before… and then remember after.  I have to wonder if it’s a trauma response thing or ….some weird eldritch thing.  But… not actually that curious, if you know what I mean?”  Tim is sitting on the couch next to Jon.  Once upon a time, they maybe would have been flush with each other.  But it had been a long time since they were that comfortable together.  Jon hopes that one day he will feel safe enough to lean on Tim again.  

Jon half swallows a partial laugh.  Not a particularly humorous one, just a huff of air, really.  “I’m curious… of course I am.  I just… try to avoid thinking about it.  Curiosity is a little dangerous for me…  Which is irritating because being a teacher is about Learning as well as teaching.  And apparently it is down to me to try to revive these children from the fatigue of rote memorization without an independent will to learn!”  

“Ha!  You inspiring people to learn!  Are you sure you don’t just give them that glare of yours and tell them when the homework is due after babbling to them for an hour about whatever.  Bet they don’t get a question in edgewise!”

Jon gives Tim that very glare.  And Tim laughs properly.  Which fills Jon’s chest with hope.  He shouldn’t hang on the every positive response he gets from Tim… but he does.  

“Actually I read something funny the other day!  I was on twitter and I found a threat that had a theory that one of those stupid kids songs brought about the Eyepocolypse!  One of those ones that you sing over and over again until every adult that ever met you just wants to clobber you…. I think it was the baby shark one…  Whatever the fuck that is.”

Static fills Jon’s mouth.  Buzzing through the air.  And he Knows the song.  The words.  The many many many versions.  

B̠̼̙͙̘͚̺̓̋̿͑̓͘͟͞ả̶͎̜̙̩̖̋̈́̆̂̚ͅḇ͕͓̘͖̦̫̥͂̊͂̀͂̇̇̂̚͜͢y̟̬̳̱̦̘͖̗͑͑͛̀̚͝͞͞ s̘̠̪̠͎̻̯̰̏͂̒̍̒̏͞ͅẖ̴̢͕̙͕̟̤̯͆̊͂͐̆͜ą̛̙̞͇̹̪̖͕͈͆̽͗̇͋̍͘͘͜r̡̛͍̹̳͉͕̱̝͔̾̒͛͊͐̾̿̕͠ͅķ̯̼̀̉͒͆̌̈͜͢͡ d̷̪͙͓͔̞̗͂̋̀͆͆̕͜͞ơ̵̲̩̦͐͋̊̔̉̑͢͢͠ͅ d̜̳̜̺̣͓̟̿̽̔̽̑͜ͅo̸̙͈͇̠̣͐̿̾̂̏̇̚̚ͅ d̸͍̞̹̫̤̀̑͒́̒͊̔ǫ͚̮̳͇̤̰̦̖̀̋̋͂͌̋͑͢͡ d̲̜̹̤̘̝͖͗̀͑̆̽͢ǫ̴̛̤̤̗̝̯͒͆̂̿̀̐͝ͅ ḍ̶͈͇͖͔̫̯̥̄̃͋̄͌̀̇̑͛͋͟ö̢̖̥̯̹͙̱̓̀͋͗͟͡ d͔̬͚̤̩̯͛̽̏̈͘o̪̼̬̯̮̼͌̈̎̐́̕ b̷̢͙̮̱̹͓̎͑͂̊̋̋͛̊͋̇a̗̩͍̩̲̾̇̄͐̾b̮͇̖̣̭̫͎̂̽̅̾́̄͠ỷ̷͚̘͕̫̲̩̠̮̬͒͆̾̃̅͑̓̄ s̲̳̖̼̩̙̓̿͆̉͛̃͒͝͠͡h̴̡̺̯̮̼̙̜̋̓̋͐̿͢ͅa̴̳̩̲͓̱̞͊͊̓̑̄͢ͅṟ̷̨̛̬͎͕̮̖̣̜̎̌̂̎͢k̟͍̱͍͛̅̉̏̑͑͌͡ͅ d̸̥͓̻̗̩̮͖̓͛̀͒̈̉̀̕͞o̹̭͓͎̤̝͆͂͆̈́͗d̵̙͕̼̖͔̬͚͕̞͂͑̒̀͢͞͝͞o͖͕͉̘̠̹͑̂̂̽̌̋͜ḑ̢̟̙̝͋̈̾͌̆͐͋͂̓̌͜ơ̛͖͎͖̱̳̘̓̽̒̔͌͐̔͒͢ḑ̵͍̱͙̘̙̇́̃͡͞o̴̧͓̼͔̜̣̲̻̔́̓͒͗͂́͜ͅd̨͓͈͎͚͕̳̝̩̿͋̂̔́̔̈̇̓͜ȍ̷͕͙̝͎̙̼̣̃̍̏͘̕͟͞d̴̩̩͖̙̘͕͓̼̯̊̿́̾͋̄͘̚͞ŏ̞̤͉̱̝̯̔̄̅͊̑͟ w̴̰̥̱̲̦̤̘̠̑̅̉̓̀͢ę̶̛̬̗̗͓͍̟̏̀̓͗͑͢ṇ̙̟̳̅͑̾͆̈́̀͋͢͞t̵̠̯̫̙̘̺̳͋̋̍͒͂̍̌̐̋ f̸̻̭̫͚̮͐̑̉̄̍̓̂͝ȯ̢̨͔͍̥̲̌̅̋̂͋r̢͔̥͈͎̭͔̼̹̀̿̀̂̊̈́̊͜͠ ả̢̡̛͉̙͓͎̩̈̈̑̇̒͢ͅ ş̺̦͍̣̬͔̭̲̅̓͑̿͗̍ͅw̺̺͉͙̩͚̻̣̜̪̿̍̽͒̎̀̚͝í̢̺̥̩͖̹̣͖͚̈́̿̐̏͜m̶̜̯̺͙̯͒̔̈́̍͞͡͠ d̶̢̨̡̛͓̖̥̱̩̹͊͒̔̽̈̎̽̚ò̤̤̪͎͔̺̽̍̋̅̆̔͠d̳͎̥̟̺̰̰̘̿̌̐́̄̌ơ͔̣̝̱̪̟̪̑̒̿̑͆̂̓̍̃d̢͎͖͖̭͓̭́̌̇̊̇̀͗͛ơ̴͖͓̤̝̘̯͓̐̊̓̾̕͜d̷̤̺̫̙̠̜̬̈̆͐̽̚͟ő͕͚͖̳͙̭̞̜̓̊͊͘͘d̴͈̲̰̬̘́̈́̓̚͠ȍ̶̠͙̜͖͉̱̥̄́͛͌̌̈͟d̳̜̮͓̀̓͒̈̌̅͌͢o̺͕̙̺͔̫̍̾̾̍͊

.

The knowledge floods his senses.  Too many words.  Too many songs.  And he can’t stop it until he has experiences every annoying children’s song and rhyme and poem at once and he can’t take any of it in and he can’t thinkcantthinkcantthinkcantthinktoomanywordstoomanytoomany 

sharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharksharkDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDoDo

The static crackles in the air, and Jon’s vision goes dark.  

Jon wakes up and throws up.  Or would, if his insides hadn’t turned to static.  As it stands, static floods his mouth and echos around the bin that has been shoved hastily in front of his face.  

He thinks vaguely this must be an unpleasant experience for whoever is guiding him upright and holding back his hair.  

Even so, it is miserable for him.  

This is one of the least pleasant experiences of his life.  Which is saying something.  

It hurts.  It feels like he is being turned inside out and his head sawed in two.  

Once his body is done, his eyes are leaking static is well and he slumps further, head still in the bin, breathing hard.  He groans, pitifully.  

He allows himself a minute.  A minute to try to process the information overload that sent him into this state.  To try to feel more real and less like a manifestation of buzzing energy.  

He can’t drag his eyes open.  He doesn’t even want to try.  

Then he remembers Tim.  

Tim who is almost certainly the one rubbing his back.  

Tim who just witnessed Jon Behold something.  

Tim who thinks Jon has this under control.  

Jon is supposed to have this under control.  

But does he?  Does he really?  Because this Does happen.  Not too often anymore, but it does.  Jon can’t always.  

Sometimes a weak compulsion threads through his words.  Sometimes he something slips through into his subconscious.  And sometimes, the floodgates open like they just did, and Jon’s body is not equipped to deal with that now, if it ever even was.  (Which it wasn’t.  He remembers lying on his office floor… sick and shivering for hours before Basira found him at his desk, having finally found the strength to stand, plagued by a raging headache.)  

Tim wasn’t supposed to see that he is still like this… this… monstrousness that hasn’t gone away.  It hasn’t.  Just a bit weaker.  Still out of control and he should have this under control by now!  It’s been years!  

And he can’t think anymore because it hurts too much, and even the gentle hand on his back is too much like hitting.  Like scratching.  And he knows it is just oversensitive skin and he knows that touch is fine and grounding and good, but his brain can’t tell the difference anymore.  Not after years of hurt have been visibly pressed into his skin.  And not when merely existing is rending his head in two.  

He is breathing hard with a solid band of panic crushing his lungs.  And he’s gagging around more static.  And static is streaming down his face and he can’t let Tim see him like this.  he can’t.  He can’t!  He doesn’t want to lose Tim again.  He can’t do it again!  Not when things are so close to good that it hurts.  

He tries to get up.  To hide, but it sends him retching again.  

Tim is alarmed.  Not about Jon’s use of powers.  He’s… something close to okay with that.  Well… not Okay okay with it.  But it’s still… just Jon.  It doesn’t happen often.  And Martin warned him Long before allowing them near one another, the second conversation they had after Tim ran into him in the grocery store and had to go through the awkward business of ‘yes I’m alive, sorry I didn’t say anything, also here’s Sasha who you thought was dead.  What do you mean you almost got yourself killed because you were left with nothing to live for?’  That had been…. a conversation to remember.  

In any case, Tim knows that Jon isn’t entirely human.  Mostly human, at this point.  But… not entirely.  Sometimes things like this happen, although Martin hadn’t said anything about….. all the static.  Something about ink?  Something about some minor compulsion.  And that Jon is… not cagey about it… but skittish.  That he still expects to be punished for this thing that he clearly can’t entirely control.  He knows that Jon occasionally Knows things on purpose and gives himself migraines.  Much to Martin’s worry.  But accidentally Beholding… well it looks worse than a migraine to Tim.  This looks painful, and like it’s quickly devolving into a panic attack.  

Which… Tim has a sinking feeling is because he is there.  This would be…. the third one he’s caused.  At least that he knows of.  

There was the time that Jon was under the weather and compelled him by mistake.  There was the time when he’d finally gotten comfortable around Jon again and had started joking and something in the tone of his voice or the volume had sent Jon into a messy spiral.  And now this.  He’s been so careful.  He wants his friend back.  And they were finally getting somewhere with easy visits without Martin moderating.  Finally.  

And now Jon is sick and hurting and  afraid and Tim is probably just making it worse.  

Jon flinches away from his hands with a whimper, and his theory is strengthened.  

He stops.  Timothy Stoker takes consent very seriously.  “Do you want me to let you go?  Can you sit on your own?”  

Jon whines again, forehead resting on the edge of the bin.  Dreadfully pale and face crackling with a static that Tim guesses to be sweat or tears… possibly both.  

He would absolutely let go of Jon if he was sure he could safely do so, but… Jon looks as if he might just topple over as it is.  Best not to disturb him too much.  And if he looks uncomfortable with the arrangement, then Tim will try to fix it.  However he can.  

Until then, he ought to call Martin.  But he can’t get up without dislodging an unsteady Jon.  And Jon doesn’t look up for sitting in on a conversation.  

He sends a text instead.  

There’s been an incident.  We’re okay, but if you could come back here soon… Please come back soon.  

Jon cries.  And so does Tim.  Softly.  Briefly.  So many steps they have taken together, and there is still a journey before them.  

Martin’s home.  Jon would cry with relief if he wasn’t already crying.  Finally real tears instead of trails of static.  Every time he’s tried to move has made him sick.  He eventually gives up and leans against Tim.  Shivering slightly.  He wishes he could get some painkillers, but…. he can’t even sit up.  Not even far enough to let Tim get up.  

He did find it in himself to weakly sign for Tim to wrap an arm around him.  

It’s grounding.  And solid.  And warm.  And real.  

But now Martin is here.  Speaking in low tones to Tim.  Hands on his face.  Jon leaning into Martin’s warmth.  Martin wiping his damp face with a warm flannel.  

“Hey, sweetheart.  Jon, what happened?”  Martin.

Jon doesn’t want to open his mouth.  Insides still unhappy static.  He signs, “Baby Shark.”

Tim chokes on a laugh.  

It jostles Jon, which causes him to groan.  But… but.  A laugh is good.  It isn’t derisive.  It’s… just warm.  And very Tim, as he once was when they were together.  As he is, now.  

Tim stays for dinner.  It’s takeout.  And while Jon is still queasy, he manages a little bit of soup before falling asleep.  Still leaning on Tim, Martin cradling his legs.  

[ahgaseda]

enough | five

even if everyone else leaves me, you’re enough for me, you’re my only one, stand by me forever, only you, just you...

summary : to survive as a single woman in the big city, you resort to letting rich men pay for your company, but never anticipated that your first client would be the boy you once loved, Jinyoung.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, references to prostitution, mentions of gang activity, graphic sexual content, potentially triggering elements involving mental health, panic attacks, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

Something stirred you awake in the middle of the night; an unsettled feeling in the well of your stomach. Perhaps your body was so accustomed to the feeling of his skin against yours that it noticed immediately when the warmth of him was gone.

Opening your eyes, you turned, surprised to see Jinyoung no longer peacefully asleep beside you, but sitting on the edge of the bed and gazing toward the windows.

The lights had lost their luster. Even Seoul was deep in slumber at this ungodly hour.

“Jinyoung,” you called confusedly, dazed with sleep.

“Go back to bed,” he replied a little too sharply.

For a moment, you paused, studying the expanse of his shoulders. Something weighed them down. Something he couldn’t carry without being crushed from the inside.

Obstinate as ever, you crawled forward, slipping behind him and wrapping your arms and legs around his body. Jinyoung sighed, lips tugging into a reluctant smile, and stroked a hand across your arm to lace his fingers through yours.

Resting your cheek on his shoulder, you asked, “What’s wrong, baby?”

He exhaled loudly through his nose. The lines of his brow were furrowed in pensive thought; of losing everything. Of losing you.

“I have a lot on my mind,” Jinyoung finally answered, foolish to think that answer would suffice.

You rolled your eyes and teased, “What else is new?”

Jinyoung wrinkled his nose and squeezed your hand even tighter. Jiwon’s threat was very real and manifested in his mind with every bloody, gruesome possibility. Jinyoung knew he had to put him away for good. No hesitation and no mercy.

Seeing he had fallen back into his reveries, you traced your fingers over his abs through the thin white shirt. Bringing your lips to his neck, you left a few tender kisses before flicking out your tongue to test his mood.

Jinyoung felt his pulse pick up speed. It went without saying he would love to bury himself between your legs and forget about everything except you and him in his bed. But that was never what he was made of. He couldn’t indulge in your body when you were at risk and only he could make it right.

And, of course, he was still mad as hell at you.

Jinyoung turned to meet your eyes and for a fleeting moment, you naively believed you would get your way. He kissed the corner of your mouth chastely before gathering you in his arms and returning you to your place in bed.

Draping an arm over your waist and laying his head on your chest, Jinyoung whispered, “Sleep, baby. I’m right here.”

Satisfied that he wouldn’t leave you, you settled comfortably into the mattress. His weight on top of you was more than welcome. “Will you ever tell me what goes on in that head of yours?” you asked, delicately tracing your fingertips over his forehead and pushing away his fluffy hair.

Jinyoung took your hand in his and brought it to his mouth, placing featherlight kisses over each of your fingers. “You,” he confessed in a heavy sigh, as if it pained him to admit it. “Always you.”

Your eyes burned with emotion and you didn’t hesitate to tell him, “I love you, Jinyoung.”

“I know,” he replied without missing a beat.

You chuckled. It was worth a try to make him say it back after all this time, but he was nothing if not stubborn and hard-headed.

The morning came late and your growling stomach woke you with a vengeance. When you stirred, you were amazed to find Jinyoung already awake, but still clinging snugly to your body.

“I’m hungry,” you whined tiredly, rubbing at your eyes with a fist.

Jinyoung rose quickly and proceeded to sift you out from beneath the warmth of the blankets. “It’s about time. Get up, lazy,” he jeered, half-serious. “I’m starving. We’re going to eat.”

You gawked at his outburst. “Have you been waiting this whole time for me to wake up?”

“Yes,” he said with a frown.

You wanted to laugh. He was such a big baby. “I have to study,” you told him, slipping off the bed and gathering your clothes.

Jinyoung put his hands on his hips and chided, “You studied your brains out yesterday. It’s Saturday. Today, you rest.”

You stopped, blinking incredulously at how bossy he sounded. “Well, damn,” you said with a chuckle. “Guess I have no choice, huh?”

“None. Zero,” Jinyoung replied, heading out the door to give you privacy. “Get dressed.”

“Fine,” you shot back, attempting to sound annoyed simply to toy with him.

That was when you remembered you didn’t have any clothes to wear. You had been brought to his penthouse in your pajamas and you highly doubted Jinyoung would appreciate taking you to breakfast in your thigh-high socks.

There was a swift tapping of knuckles on the door followed by it opening before you could finish calling, “Yes?”

Jinyoung appeared again, a bag in each hand. “Right on time,” he announced, disgruntled. “I had some clothes ordered for you. The boys just dropped them off.”

“Jinyoung, you can’t be serious,” you exclaimed, racing over to see the spoils. “Please tell me you didn’t spend a fortune on these.”

Jinyoung snorted and narrowed his eyes at you. He was tempted to pull out a wad of cash and set it on fire before you just to prove a point. “I spend my money however I want. Now, for the love of food, hurry up and put something on. Or I’ll just eat you.”

Memories began to flood of the night before and you licked your lips. “I would not be opposed to that.”

Jinyoung lifted his brows. After a pause, he retorted, “Nope. I got nothing. All I’m thinking about is beef.”

“Me, too,” you shot back, glancing down at his pants.

He promptly folded his arms and made that damned adorable face. Pursed lips, puffed cheeks. “Wow, I ate her out one time and she can’t think straight. Woman, am I gonna be able to take you out in public ever again?”

You laughed aloud. “Yes, yes, I’m coming. I just miss the hell out of teasing you.”

“Yeah, well, I miss having a full belly,” he groaned. “You have five minutes or I’m leaving your horny ass here.”

“Cheese and rice,” you grumbled, pulling the shirt over your head and stripping down to your underwear.

Jinyoung was about to make a quip about how badly he craved rice, but was distracted at the sight of your breasts. Your body had filled out in his absence over the last four years. Though you were always perfect to him, he didn’t mind your bigger boobs and fuller hips.

You met his eyes, quirking a brow. Suddenly aware of the sexual tension that had filled the room in the span of a second, part of you hoped he would pounce on you then and there.

Jinyoung watched, feigning disinterest, and handed you one of the blouses.

By the time you arrived at the restaurant, bodyguards and driver in tow, Jinyoung was in full hungry brat mode. The owner recognized him at once and bowed deeply, ushering the two of you to the secluded table in the back corner. Before you slipped into your seat, you watched Jackson, Jaebeom and Yugyeom take a high table just beyond and strategically within eyesight at all times.

Not much passed in terms of conversation at first. Jinyoung was wholly focused on food. When the beef began to sizzle on the grill, you reached for the tongs and earned a swift slap to your hand.

“What was that for?” you exclaimed irritably.

Jinyoung proceeded to flip the beef and complained, “You have no grill skills. You burn everything.”

“I do not,” you said with a pout.

The servers continued to bring food at Jinyoung’s behest. By the time they had finished, there was no free space on the table.

The sight made your eyes burn with the threat of tears, even worse when Jinyoung took a large mouthful and made a satisfied sound in his chest.

There were days he gave you his food and went hungry himself. Jinyoung always suffered if it meant you were taken care of. The two of you went years without ever knowing how it felt to be full.

Jinyoung glanced at you, perturbed at how you had yet to start eating. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

You shook your head and lied, “Nothing.”

He watched you pick up the chopsticks and your hesitation was painfully obvious. He could see the moisture in your eyes. Jinyoung knew in that moment what had made you emotional and chose kindly not to press you on it, but he did say, “Let it go, baby.”

“What?” you questioned.

“Whatever you’re about to cry over.”

You blinked rapidly, fighting the tears even harder, and nodded your head. Then, you reached for the food.

The waitress came over not long after and asked if there was anything else either of you needed.

Jinyoung looked to you for an answer. “Want more food?”

Given how much you had already eaten, you patted your stomach and quipped, “No, I’m watching my figure.”

The joke was lost on your lover. Jinyoung scoffed in annoyance and told her, “Two lunch boxes please.”

You chuckled.

Jinyoung took another bite and asked, “You still love dosirak, right?”

Your mouth watered. “Obviously.”

“Then, eat a damn lunch box.”

The server came back with two tins and Jinyoung had barely taken it from her hand when he began shaking it. You mirrored him, recalling all the times as kids you would compete to see who could shake theirs the longest.

After the two of you ate to your heart’s content, you were in disbelief - but mostly thrilled - when Jinyoung returned with you to the penthouse and revealed he would be working from home for the day. Your lips spread into a grin and he quickly rebuffed your affections.

“It’s not that I want to spend time with you,” he calmly argued. “I just don’t feel like dealing with people today.”

You winked. “Of course.”

Jinyoung plopped down on the couch and opened the newspaper, reading through every section as he always did. You sat on the neighboring couch opposite of him and your gaze fell to his muscly thighs spread out, hugged by the tightly fitting jeans. His lap did look rather inviting.

You went into the kitchen and fixed a cup of tea. Offering to make him one as well, Jinyoung politely declined and you were content to lean against the counter and study him.

Very, very often you had imagined and daydreamed of domestic life with Jinyoung as a wild, restless teenager. And now, here it was. Although, Jinyoung had frequently joked that he would never be able to tame you, no matter how much you loved him.

That wasn’t true. The truth was, he had broken you a long time ago.

“I can feel you staring,” Jinyoung called from behind the newspaper.

You murmured coyly, “I’m enjoying the view,” and put the cup of tea to your lips.

Jinyoung flushed a subtle shade of crimson, pulling his paper close to hide it.

You approached him and asked, “Mind if I sit down?”

“Go right ahead,” Jinyoung replied, patting the empty space next to him.

You smiled and turned around, sidling backwards and landing squarely on his lap.

Jinyoung let out a tiny grunt the moment you sat on his hips and scowled back at you when you glanced over your shoulder to peer innocently in his direction.

“What are you playing at?” he barked, folding his newspaper.

“You started this game,” you sang innocently. “Don’t hate me for finishing it.”

Jinyoung cocked a brow and refused to surrender. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well then,” was all Jinyoung said before grasping you none too gently and smashing his lips on yours.

You were completely at his mercy with your precarious position on his lap. Jinyoung quickly barred an arm across your stomach and cradled your face with the other. You reached back to tangle your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss. Jinyoung slipped you his tongue and you moaned softly into his mouth when a hand landed on your breast.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Jinyoung whispered darkly in your ear, kissing hotly over your racing pulse. “Don’t leave out a single detail.”

There were times you wondered if he could read your mind. Glancing down to see his hands kneading your clothed breasts, you let your head fall back when he pressed slow kisses to your neck. “When you used to…,” you trailed, voice trembling. “Take me from behind.”

Jinyoung chuckled softly, grazing his teeth over your skin. “Yeah,” he growled even lower. “You always did look good on your hands and knees.”

You swallowed, heart thundering wildly. He must have heard it. You watched his hands drift down your body, slipping beneath your shirt before returning to palm your breasts.

“You were always so deep,” you panted with want and need. “I almost couldn’t take it.”

Jinyoung tucked his hands inside your bra, finally able to tease your nipples without anything in the way. “And you were always so tight,” he retorted. “No matter how hard I fucked you.”

You turned your head, nuzzling your nose against his. “Please, just take me,” you whimpered, trying to mold your lips to his.

Jinyoung rose, prying you from his lap and leaving you on the couch. “The only thing I’m taking is a cold shower,” he said, stomping toward the bedroom.

“You little shit,” you called after him, bracing your hands on the top of the sofa. “I can’t stand your stubborn ass!”

“You love this ass,” he bantered back at you. “And it’s a fantastic ass. Have some respect.”

You made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, and sulked when he locked the bedroom door behind him.

The rest of the weekend was less profanity filled. Jinyoung gave you a taste of your dreams of domestic life with him. Quiet dinners. Endless food. The scent of fresh coffee filling the room in the morning. Peaceful evenings under a shared blanket in the reading nook.

Jinyoung gushed excitedly when he told you what was happening in the novel he devoured. You soaked up every word, overjoyed to see him happy. Occasionally he would remember he was mad at you and would be sparing with his affection. Then, he would seem to forget again and couldn’t keep his hands off of you.

It was a constant game of push and pull. One that you came to enjoy.

But on Sunday night he grew restless, tossing and turning. You had no sooner finally fallen asleep when Jinyoung woke you screaming, thrashing in the bed.

Every image of his night terrors from years before hit you all at once and your body responded as if muscle memory took control. “Jinyoung, stop! It’s okay,” you tried to console him, grasping his face in your hands and staring into his wide, terrified eyes. “I’m here. It’s me!”

Jinyoung was stronger than you by leaps and bounds. He pried you off of him with effortless ease and staggered toward the window, pounding his fist against it in frustration. He ran his hands through his hair, desperately clawing for his composure. The thing he guarded so vehemently. “You’re not supposed to see me like this…,” he choked out.

That damn pride, you thought with a frown as fire filled your cheeks. “And who is, huh?” you snapped angrily.

He clocked a weathered glance at you and warned, “Don’t.”

“Jinyoung…”

Jinyoung was thinking of his nightmares. Of you ripped violently away from him. They blended into the bloody, malicious things he had seen. The things he had done to take his place at the top. He heard Jiwon’s threat to break you in before his eyes.

He guarded his heart; guarded it with an iron fucking fist. He protected himself with ice and steel. He had to in order to live with what he had done. You were always how he justified it. He did it all for you, but he had sacrificed so much of himself.

“I can’t let you in again,” Jinyoung whispered shakily. “You’ll be gone and I won’t survive.”

Your knees buckled. Your heart collapsed somewhere in your chest. “I’m so sorry,” you whimpered, face tensing with oncoming tears.

Jinyoung lowered his head, hiding behind his disheveled hair. The first time you left him it was your choice. If you left him again, it wouldn’t be by choice. It would be because someone stole you away.

“You make me crazy,” Jinyoung murmured, reaching for you and gathering you to his chest. His hands raked into your hair, keeping you looking up into his eyes. “I wanted to hate you. I tried. You ruined me.”

Tears freely streamed down your cheeks. Jinyoung and you, you and Jinyoung - two wounded souls just trying to heal. “I’ll never leave you again,” you vowed with all you had. “I swear on my life. I’ll die before I do that to you.”

“I know,” Jinyoung sighed.

That was exactly what he feared.

You looked at him with confusion, waiting for an explanation. You were given none and Jinyoung refused to return to bed. He sat by the window, waiting for the city to wake and watching over you.

The next morning, you opened your eyes to find Jinyoung was gone. And you weren’t surprised.

Yugyeom took you back to the condo and you stared at your phone all the while. No calls. No texts. Your blood began to boil.

You typed a message to send him, You can’t build those walls when I’m around, huh?

But you didn’t have the heart to send it. Not when the sound of his screams echoed in your ears. Deleting the words, you tossed your phone on the nightstand and buried yourself in studying. Exams were in full swing this week. It was time to get to work.

For three days you heard nothing from Jinyoung. For three days he avoided you. You felt wounded and your heart was sore.

When Yugyeom and Jackson arrived to take you to your exam, you asked nonchalantly, “Jackson, you’ll be seeing Jinyoung later, right?”

“Yes, mam.”

You hopped into the car and put on your seatbelt. “Do me a favor and please mention in passing that I stand by what I said. I’ll never leave him. But a woman needs an outlet to let off steam and reward her hard work, and if he does not want to provide that outlet, the club will.”

“With pleasure,” Jackson said with a chuckle.

Yugyeom grinned mischievously.

It was early afternoon when your exam had finished and you excitedly jumped into the tinted Range Rover.

“Well?” asked Yugyeom eagerly, hand draped on the wheel.

Jackson turned around from his spot in the passenger seat. “How was it?”

You flashed them a smile and announced, “I slayed that shit.”

The two boys applauded.

“The evil physics has been defeated,” Yugyeom sang, putting the car in drive and cruising out of the parking lot.

A moment later, Jackson crooned, “Mr. Park would like to extend an invitation for you to join him at his office immediately if you are still in need of… an outlet.”

That had your attention. “Oh?”

Jackson nodded, amused. “He says he will be happy to take you out to dinner as soon as he is finished working, but you may join him in his office until then.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed, “Just what a girl wants after spending two whole hours in an exam. To sit in an office and wait on her stubborn ass man.”

Yugyeom looked at you in the rearview mirror and said, “We don’t have to go.”

The gears turned in your head. Jackson smirked, noticing your expression full of mischief.

“Take me there, please,” you said, crossing your legs. “I think it’s time I got my revenge.”

The office was in an executive building on an inconspicuous corner. Jinyoung had to make sure each of his business endeavors looked legitimate by all means. You stepped into the ornate lobby and let the elevator take you to the third floor.

When you stepped into the office, Jinyoung looked up, but didn’t move a muscle. “Since when do you go to the club?” he asked gruffly.

No greeting. He was still embarrassed over the other night, you mused to yourself. “Since freshman year,” you countered, moving to one of the two chairs before his desk and making yourself comfortable.

Jinyoung put his pen down and leaned back in his own chair, folding his arms tautly. “You can’t handle your liquor,” he said bluntly.

You nodded in agreement. “I know. Still the lightweight. But free booze. Free music. Free dancing.”

Jinyoung’s eyes flickered. There were images filling his mind of you dancing with men, men that didn’t hesitate to let their hands roam your body. “Are you trying to make me jealous?” he asked.

You grinned. “Absolutely. How am I doing?”

Jinyoung scowled and didn’t dare gratify you with an answer. Instead he shifted subjects. “How was your exam?”

“I fucking nailed it.”

Jinyoung chuckled.

“I did, Jinyoung,” you insisted, beaming with pride. “I crushed it.”

He bobbed his head. “I believe you. I’m very proud.”

You gave him a soft smile.

Finally Jinyoung rose from his desk and moved to the nearby table, pulling a bottle that had been on ice and pouring two glasses of champagne. “How should we celebrate?” He looked to you expectantly whilst handing you your glass. “I can get us a private booth at any of the restaurants or we can…”

“I know what I want,” you interjected, taking a sip of your drink.

Jinyoung shrugged. “Well, you have my credit card. Go buy it.”

You shook your head. “I don’t wanna buy anything.”

Jinyoung tilted his head and exhaled, running out of patience. “Woman, tell me what you want.”

“I want you.”

Jinyoung let a lull of silence pass before he hummed, “Mm.”

“Did you have a rough day?” you asked coyly, setting down your drink and running your fingers up his tie.

“Maybe,” he said, voice laden with exhaustion. “But you know I don’t talk about my work.”

You brushed past him intentionally and came to stand behind his desk, pushing a few things back to give yourself room. Then, you lifted yourself on top of it, sitting on the edge and spreading your legs, motioning him forward.

Jinyoung downed his drink and discarded the glass, then sneered, “I’m not going to fuck you. Not yet anyway.”

“I know that,” you replied sharply. “Just come here and turn around.”

His brow furrowed, bemused as to what you were after, but Jinyoung relented and stepped between your knees, pecking a kiss on your irresistible lips. You smiled against his mouth and grabbed his arms, steering him to put his back to you.

Once he had, you settled your hands on his shoulders and began to knead, massaging his tense muscles and feeling him relax under your ministrations. A soft hum of a moan left his lips and you smirked in satisfaction, putting more pressure on his back until he sighed in relief.

Lulling Jinyoung into the headspace you wanted, your hands fell deliberately down his burly arms, still squeezing his muscles to release their tension. Slowly, you skimmed your palms to his stomach, grabbing his shirt and yanking upward, freeing the material from where it had been tucked into his pants.

“What are you doing?” asked Jinyoung lowly, voice sinking a few octaves.

Nipping the shell of his ear, you whispered, “Let me play.”

Jinyoung shivered as you began to kiss his neck and you were quick to loop your legs over his thick thighs, dissuading him from trying to escape your touches. With his shirt loose, you brushed the hem aside and fiddled at his belt.

Sliding your hand into his pants, you resisted the urge to giggle at his hardening length, but you did tease, “I’ve barely touched you and look how hard you’re getting, baby.”

“I started getting hard the second you spread your legs on top of my desk,” he confessed in a raspy snarl, staring down at the erotic sight of your hand down his jeans and your legs locked around his thighs.

You chuckled devilishly in his ear and pulled at his half-hard cock, stroking the length of him in your tightly gripped fist. Bringing a hand to your mouth quickly, you licked the span of your palm before reaching down to pump his shaft.

Jinyoung tensed against you when you focused on the head of his member, even more so when you sucked intently on his neck. Your breath was hot, making the sweat gathered at his hairline cool on his skin.

“Jinyoung,” you whispered pliantly, once he was rock hard in your grasp. “Please let me do this for you.”

His hips stuttered in tandem with your movements and so did his words, “Do what?”

You worked down his length with both hands, gathering a drop of precum with your finger and teasing his slit. You thought he would come undone and unravel in your hands at any minute with the way his breaths were tumbling out.

“Make you feel good,” you purred.

Jinyoung shivered at the thought. His attention was still fixated downward, where your hands had vanished inside his pants. You were jerking his cock faster and faster, like you were trying to get him off embarrassingly quick just so you could tease him for it later.

Which wasn’t far from the truth.

Suddenly, you gripped the base of his cock nice and hard, and stopped all motions. “Well…,” you growled with impatience. “Do I have your permission?”

Jinyoung exhaled in defeat, his hips moving of their own accord in a seeking thrust, desperate for friction. “Do what you want with me,” he mumbled, kicking himself for losing resolve so quickly. “I won’t stop you. Not today.”

You fought a giddy smile at finally getting your way and withdrew your hands from down his pants, pushing him forward to allow you room to slide from the desk. The moment your feet touched the floor, you twirled around him, switching positions, and pushed him up against the desk.

Jinyoung didn’t struggle, but he did grab the edge of the desk and hold tightly with both hands, breath bated.

Pressing your hands to his chest, you leaned forward and captured his lips in a kiss, teased his tongue as he sighed into your mouth. Jinyoung was enraptured to say the least, clutching your waist gingerly and pulling you close enough that your breasts pushed against him.

As you kissed him, you rubbed your fingers over his clothed nipples, his cock twitching eagerly in his pants. Then, you took a tie from your wrist and affixed it to your hair, tightening the ponytail into position and pressing one last kiss on his lips.

You shoved Jinyoung against the desk once more, to remind him who was in charge until further notice and your eyes lit up at the blush across his cheeks and the fire in his gaze.

Jinyoung couldn’t believe his eyes when you dropped to your knees before him, grabbing his pants and boxers and tugging them down to his ankles in one sweep. His hard cock waited before your eyes, weeping and curving toward his abs.

Your fingers danced up his shaft, eyes on the vein bulging underneath. You liked teasing him, loved making him beg for release even more, but today you were in the mood to make short work of him. You were still bitter at being ignored for three days. You got a hold of him in your hand and licked a wet stripe from base to tip before meeting his gaze again.

Jinyoung clawed at his tie, loosening it frantically so he could breathe. The last time someone blew him would have been four years ago. You used to suck him off rather often, enjoying the way you could reduce him to a moaning mess. Jinyoung hoped this time would be no different.

“Jinyoung,” you whispered, peering up at him with the tip of his cock against your lips.

“Yeah?” he panted.

“Don’t hold back,” you said, holding his cock firmly as you took him in your mouth.

Inch by inch you sucked him down, lilting back before engulfing him again to wet him with your saliva. Jinyoung watched you stroke back and forth, each time going deeper until his member hit the back of your throat. You choked at first, out of practice after so long, but the tightening of your throat made his hips arch and his abs flex.

Jinyoung whimpered your name and that was all you needed to keep going.

You let his girth leave your mouth with a lewd pop, proceeding to pump him in your fist while you peered up at him with tear-filled eyes.

Jinyoung had let his head fall back the moment you choked on him and was content to stay that way. He couldn’t look at you. One glance of you with your lips around the base of his cock would make him bust in a heartbeat. And god knows you would never let him live that down.

You slipped him between your lips again, sucking on the head and teasing with your tongue before grasping his hips. He had thrust ever so slightly, probably unintentionally, seeking the heat of your mouth. Your eyes burned with more tears when his length hit the back of your throat again, but you swallowed him eagerly. Jinyoung inhaled a hard breath and fisted his hand in your hair.

Your warm, wet mouth was too much. It took all of Jinyoung’s willpower not to fill your mouth with cum. He couldn’t stop thinking about the vice-like grip of your pussy, how it was undoubtedly throbbing with need. He pictured you in his mind, moaning his name when he finally penetrated you.

“Yeah…,” Jinyoung growled, sucking another breath through his teeth when you hollowed out your cheeks. “Like that. Good girl…”

You moaned at the lust in his voice, sending vibrations through his cock and smiling when a little groan left his lips. You rewarded the sound, swallowing around the tip of him again and bobbing your head a little faster on his length.

Jinyoung was in bliss - absolute, mind-numbing rapture. Head tilted back, eyes pressed closed. You smiled with his cock in your mouth, hands rooted to his tensing thighs, and stared up at him in worship, heady at the sight of his chest rising and falling with labored panting. His full lips were parted as pleasured sounds left him with every thrust in your waiting mouth.

“Fu…ck,” he moaned, now gripping your hair with both hands.

You looped your arms around his thighs and set your nails to his plump ass. He had taken over control and all you could do was hang on for the ride. Jinyoung pumped his cock into your mouth, rutting into the back of your throat. Tears streamed down your cheeks and the sound of you gagging only made him twitch more.

“Good girl,” Jinyoung rasped, losing his mind to the feel of you. “Almost there.”

Sucking him off was nothing short of gratifying. Your pussy throbbed between your legs and you could feel wet arousal soaking through your panties. His cock would slide into you smoother than silk if he wasn’t so damn stubborn. At the thought, you moaned around his length and he whimpered.

Jinyoung couldn’t fight back his moans any longer and you knew he was at his end. His hips stuttered, his thrusts turning erratic, and he finally came with a shaky cry that sounded vaguely like your name.

You lapped him up, gulping down his release when you tasted it on the back of your tongue and swallowing every last drop. Seeing the ecstasy on his face made you desperate for climax and you pressed your thighs together.

Jinyoung still gripped your hair tightly, knuckles almost white, and slowly pulled his spent cock from your mouth. Without warning, he grabbed your arms and hoisted you up none too gently. “Fuck,” was all he said.

You opened your mouth and wagged your tongue at him in a taunt, proving you had milked him dry.

Jinyoung shook his head at you before reaching down to pull up his pants, fastening them quickly to get you in his arms again. “God, you’re good,” he growled, grasping you by the throat.

You were gifted a searing kiss and purred in response. At this point, you were sure he would give you anything you asked for.

“So fucking good,” he hummed, pressing a wet open-mouthed kiss or two to your jaw.

“Jinyoung,” you beckoned sweetly, eyes rolling when his lips drifted to your neck.

“Hm?” he questioned, pulling back to look at you.

“I’m wet,” you confessed, raking your tongue across your teeth at the way his pupils flickered.

Jinyoung cocked his head, brushing his nose against yours. Without another word, his hand trailed down your body and pushed between your thighs, getting a taste of your desire for him and the arousal coating your folds.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. “You like choking on my dick that much?”

“Mm, yes. I do,” you retorted, nipping at his lips.

Jinyoung fisted his hand in your ponytail, his usual roughness coming through. “What should I do with you?”

“Fuck me,” you replied, rather blunt. “Think how easy you would slide right in.”

Jinyoung smiled, biting his lip. He was so enamored with you. You wanted exactly what you couldn’t have and it consumed you. “It does seem like a waste of good pussy, doesn’t it?” he teased, seeming to mull over the thought.

You nodded.

Jinyoung released you then and launched himself onto the desk, sitting where you had been before.

You stood rooted in place, watching him curiously.

Jinyoung motioned you forward and patted his leg. “Ride my thigh.”

You frowned and whined, “I want dick.”

He almost laughed. “I’m soft.”

“I can get you hard in no time,” you crooned, bracing your hands on his knees and stroking upwards. “We both know that.”

Jinyoung harshened his tone, no room for further argument. “My thigh or your own fingers. The choice is yours.”

You huffed petulantly and hiked your skirt up your waist, trudging over and mounting the desk. And him. Putting a leg on either side of his thigh, you sank down until your panty-covered folds met the rough fabric of his pants.

The first roll of your hips was tentative. Yet another thing you were more than a little rusty at. Jinyoung sensed your inhibition and looped an arm around your waist, clutching you flush against him.

Jinyoung tucked his face to the crook of your neck and whispered, “Get yourself off.”

Oh, you wanted to. Release was at the front of your mind, holding the reins to your sanity. The image of Jinyoung reaching climax still lingered and you swore there was no better sound in the world than his moaning of your name. You wanted to hear it again and again.

“Please,” you spoke almost inaudibly, feeling small and helpless in his lap. “I need it.”

Jinyoung guided your hips, steering you to rub back and forth on his thigh. “Mm, that’s it,” he encouraged, lapping at the sweat on your neck. “Ride me like you mean it.”

You gathered more confidence at his words, grinding yourself down on him a little harder until your clit ached at the contact. You held his shoulders for balance, biting your lip at the feeling of his broad hands roaming to cup your ass.

Jinyoung kneaded your thighs and hips before settling on your ass again, humming his appreciation for your beautiful body and how it belonged to him, only him. He whispered little nothings in your ear, dirty things that riled you up and made you pick up the pace.

You moaned softly, gushing at the stimulation.

“Once upon a time,” Jinyoung teased, nuzzling his face between your breasts. “You used to ride me like it was what you were made for.”

And you would love to do it again if he would just let you sink down on his cock and be done with it. “Jinyoung,” you began to warn sternly.

Smack!

His hand collided with your ass and you squeaked, hips falling out of rhythm before settling back into motion.

“Don’t stop,” Jinyoung ordered, intently patting the print he had just made on your flesh. “And don’t slow down.”

“I…,” you trailed, lost in too many sensations at once.

His fingers tightened in your hair and yanked your head to the side. You felt his tongue racing over your pulse before his soft lips pressed a wet kiss on your jaw.

“Tell me,” Jinyoung snarled, reeling his hand back and landing his palm on your ass again.

Smack!

You gasped and rode him even faster.

“What do you want from me?” he pressed calmly before you could answer.

“Harder. Harder,” you pleaded, clinging to his arms for dear life.

Jinyoung chuckled with twisted pleasure at your torment, spanking your ass three solid times back to back. Your hips sped up at the sting, chasing after your high like it was the key to your sanity.

“Come already, baby,” Jinyoung urged, his dialect thicker than ever. “You’re soaking my goddamn pants.”

That rebellious streak flared and you griped, “I would rather soak your goddamn cock.”

Jinyoung bit down on the base of your neck, his member twitching at that. “Such a little angel out there,” he taunted, cupping your face. “No one would believe what a slut you are for me.”

You howled his name for mercy.

Jinyoung grasped your hips and brought you down to meet his thigh, rough and merciless. The moment you told him you were close, he commanded, “Come for me.”

You let your head fall back and your lips parted in a silent scream. This was the release you craved, needed above all else. To finally feel satiated after the suffocating tension and longing. Your nails set viciously to his shoulders and your hips slowed at the intensity of orgasm. Your engorged clit was suddenly too sensitive for the abrasive contact. Your body instinctively bowed away, but Jinyoung landed a palm on your ass with a vengeance.

“Don’t you dare tap out,” he scolded, keeping his hand poised at the ready to land yet another hit.

You kept riding him, overstimulating yourself to the point your lower half shuddered involuntarily. Satisfied at the endless, tiny cries falling from your mouth, Jinyoung grabbed your ass and rubbed the mark he had made, soothing the sting.

“You’re done,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms.

You went slack, satisfied he could support your weight. You let your head rest on his shoulder, burying your face in his neck, and held him tightly. Your body continued to tremble with orgasm, settling through the last of the aftershocks. Breathing in utter relief, all you wanted in that moment was for Jinyoung to never let go of you.

He turned his head, trying to get a glimpse of your face, and asked, “Feel better?”

Finally, you roused yourself, lifting your eyes and looking everywhere but at him. “I made a mess,” you murmured bashfully.

Jinyoung studied you, noting how you avoided his gaze, and asked, “How many exams do you have left?”

You smiled at what he was implying. “Three.”

“I’m gonna need more pants.”

You laughed at that.

Jinyoung let his hands slip reluctantly from your hips as you clambered off of him and he watched you with nothing short of amusement while you pulled your skirt back down and adjusted your clothes.

“So, yeah,” you stammered, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’m gonna head home and study.”

Jinyoung cocked his head. “Why are you being awkward?”

You were finally forced to look at him and lied, “I’m not.”

“You are,” he asserted. Jinyoung could smell bullshit a mile away, especially yours.

You shifted your weight.

“Was it… something I said?” he asked worriedly, jumping down from the desk and approaching you. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, it’s…,” you trailed, looking away. Your hunger had been soothed, but not your heartache.

Jinyoung cradled your face tenderly, eyes filled with concern. “Talk to me,” he whispered.

You pried his hands from you and snapped, “I can’t talk to you. You decide when I’m allowed to see you.”

Jinyoung sighed in realization. He knew the cold shoulder was too effective on you and regretted being as severe as he had been. But he couldn’t let you know the threat that you were under. Or the misery it inflicted on him.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said.

You dragged your feet toward him, falling back into his arms and tucking your head beneath his chin. Jinyoung was all too relieved to wrap his arms around you, kissing your brow with affection. For a moment, you were content to hug him. Then your mouth got in the way.

“I just want to be with you all the time. I’m crazy about you,” you rambled, brushing your lips over his own. “You make me absolutely out of my fucking mind crazy.”

Jinyoung studied you. Then, he cut the tension by smarting, “Stalker.”

You recoiled and snorted. “Asshat.”

Jinyoung flashed his teeth in a grin. “Dinner?"

“Ugh,” you grumbled. “Shower first.”

Jinyoung nodded, snickering. “Okay, okay. Go home and shower. Yugyeom will bring you to the restaurant. Deal?”

“Perfect,” you replied, turning on your heels and making for the door.

“Hey,” Jinyoung called out.

You turned.

“Where’s my damn kiss?”

Without hesitation, you ran back into his arms, colliding into his chest and nearly knocking the wind out of him. Jinyoung held you close and kissed you, tangling his fingers in your hair. The two of you giggled and smiled and kissed like a pair of hormone crazed teenagers with no clue what they were doing.

When you finally pulled away, Jinyoung watched you go and you swore you had never seen a more beautiful mess of a boy in your life.

No sooner had you stepped out of the shower did your phone ring. Clad in a towel, you answered eagerly, “Hey, Hoseok. It’s been a while. How are you?”

His voice was unnerving. “Seokjin wants to see you right away.”

“Oh,” was all you could manage, heart picking up speed. “Did he say why?”

“No, but he wants you in here right now. It sounds serious.”

This was new territory for you. Seokjin never summoned you with such a manner. You reckoned you were in trouble or at least, someone was in trouble. “I see. Okay. I’m coming. I will be there as soon as I can.”

Yugyeom put the key in the ignition and revved the engine. One look at your face and his smile fell. “What’s wrong?”

You closed the door behind you and fastened your seatbelt, answering, “We need to make a stop first.”

The sun set as Yugyeom drove to your employer’s building. You hadn’t been back since the contract was established between you and Jinyoung. Obviously, you were no longer available to serve as eye candy for wealthy men. It had been strange being able to focus on school without making routine trips to see Seokjin for jobs.

You turned the corner and entered the office, seeing Seokjin standing behind his desk with his hands on his hips. “Hey, boss. I…,” you began.

Seokjin laid eyes on you and snapped, “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

You watched him stomp toward you and questioned carefully, “What do you mean?”

“That your client is your ex-boyfriend,” he roared.

Your eyes were wide. “Oh. That.”

Seokjin folded his arms, narrowing his eyes at you in disappointment, but he softened his tone. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

It went without saying that you had dealt with many bad, dangerous men in your life. Seokjin was not one of them. Nothing about him inspired fear in you. The relationship you had with him was built on trust and solidarity. Even when he was angry, you weren’t afraid to be honest with him.

You swallowed. “Do you want the honest answer?”

He scoffed. “Is that even a question?”

“I didn’t want you to cancel the deal,” you admitted quietly.

Seokjin was in disbelief and decided to repeat it back to you, almost to make sure you understood what you were saying. “You wanted me to approve the contract for you to be a sexual servant to your ex?”

Well, when he put it like that it did sound awful. You shrugged. “I don’t have a good explanation for you, boss.”

There was no way you could explain your relationship with Jinyoung. It would take days, weeks even. The two of you had been through so much together, so much damage and evil and every fucking thing that could go wrong did go wrong. You both were forged in the same fires.

“There are rules here,” said Seokjin, pragmatic. “Rules in place specifically for drama like this.”

You nodded. “I understand that.”

“Clearly you don’t,” he interjected, like a parent scolding a child. “You have no idea how out of hand things get in situations like these.”

You remembered Jinyoung’s words on that day - I bought you so no one else would. Jinyoung would sell his soul before he let you sell your body.

“It’s not like that,” you tried to reason with him. “You don’t know our history.”

Seokjin shook his head and returned to his desk. “It doesn’t matter. I’m pulling the contract.”

You understood his fear. His entire business was founded on confidentiality and secrecy. Any form of drama or scandal could expose a lot of powerful people and put Seokjin back on the street.

You opened your mouth to argue, but an irritated voice behind you came first, “Is this how you conduct business around here?”

Both you and Seokjin looked to see Jinyoung entering the office with Jackson a step behind him. With their added presence, Hoseok joined only a second later.

“Mr. Park,” Seokjin began, emerging once again from behind his desk. “You should have been more forthcoming as to the nature of your relationship with…”

Jinyoung countered, “Maybe so, but that’s water under the bridge now. Did I just hear you proceeding to nullify my contract without consulting me?”

Seokjin set his jaw. “Putting your ex-girlfriend into an indentured contract to soothe your own…”

Jinyoung took a single step toward your boss and seethed. “Believe me, Mr. Kim. You don’t want to go there with me,” he hissed. “End the contract, but she is still to be paid the full balance for this month. Take your share as well. It doesn’t concern me.”

Hoseok called your name tenderly, drawing your attention, and said, “Don’t go with him. I’ve seen this happen before. It doesn’t end well like you think it does.”

“Hoseok,” you started, moved by his concern.

Jinyoung brushed past you, putting himself squarely between you and Hoseok, and asserted his territory. “And who the hell are you?”

Hoseok was not intimidated in the least. “I’m the one that’s been protecting her for the past four years. Who the hell are you?”

“Hoseok,” Seokjin beckoned, sensing the situation was going to devolve.

“I see how you’re looking at her,” Jinyoung snarled under his breath.

Hoseok didn’t deny it.

You grabbed Jinyoung’s arm, attempting to steer him away. “Jinyoung, don’t make a scene.”

“Considering your boss called you in here without me, solely to rip you a new asshole and then take the rest of your money, I’m past making a scene. I’m gonna make a fucking spectacle,” Jinyoung snapped, shifting his weight as you grasped his sleeve.

Seokjin drew your attention, speaking from a good place. “I’ve been where you are and I know how it ends. Think about what you’re doing.”

Your brow furrowed, but you knew he was referring to getting into bed with a dangerous lover. You had been ignorant to the power Jinyoung now held and how deeply he had rooted himself in the underworld of your city.

He was your Jinyoung and you could turn a blind eye to what he did because you were head over heels in love with him. Naively so, you had to admit. And for that reason, you believed Seokjin when he said he knew what it was like.

“Seokjin,” you spoke resolutely. “Thank you for everything. I owe you more than I will ever be able to repay in my lifetime, but please accept my resignation.”

Jinyoung stopped, angling to you in surprise.

You met Jinyoung’s penchant gaze and added, “Effective immediately.”

Hoseok called your name.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized with all sincerity. “I never meant for this to happen. I don’t want to cause you any harm after all that you have done for me.”

Seokjin accepted your apology and bowed in response.

Hoseok enveloped you in his arms when you hugged him goodbye and with his eyes intently on Jinyoung, whispered in your ear, “Be careful. Someone ratted you out.”

You blinked in surprise and the moment Hoseok let you go, you turned to face Jinyoung. There was no shock on his face, only aggression and anger. “Outside,” was all you said, tone low.

Silence, cold and unforgiving, between the two of you down the elevator, through the lobby, and finally to the top deck of the parking garage. Once in the fresh air, free from the potentially eavesdropping ears, you asked, “Did you tell him about us?”

“No.”

“Did you have someone tell him about us?”

“No.”

You scoffed out a laugh, mirthless. “You’re lying.”

Jinyoung snorted. “There is literally nothing I can say to appease you when you’re pissed.”

“Don’t manipulate me,” you snapped with a roll of your eyes. “Tell me the truth.”

Jinyoung smiled, though he was far from amused. “See that’s the thing with you. When you have an idea in your head you just want someone to confirm it, you don’t care what the truth is.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. All you’ve ever done is pull my strings. The minute I do something outside of what you want, I get punished,” you yelled, bristling with annoyance.

Jinyoung shook his head. He had indulged you thus far, but was officially at the end of his rope. “I don’t have to stand here and take this from you. You of all people. You left me because I did what you didn’t want.”

This was the weak spot of the relationship; the one unmistakable fact that always tore the two of you apart.

You would always assume he was lying, because that’s what he did. He would always assume you would leave him, because that’s what you had done.

Tears filled your eyes and the next words left your mouth like venom, “You don’t love me. You just want to own me.”

Jinyoung approached slowly, something dark manifesting in his eyes. Not until he was within arms’ reach of you did he whisper, “I love you with my heart and soul and every fucking breath in my body.”

Your eyes widened.

Then, he condescended, “But right now I’m not in the mood to deal with your self-righteous ass. Yugyeom will take you to dinner. Use my damn card.” And with that, he turned and proceeded to leave.

Rooted in place, you shouted after him, “Jinyoung!”

He kept walking away, no hesitation in his step.

Spiteful, you continued to shout, “It’s my turn to ignore you for three days!”

Still stomping off, Jinyoung raised a hand and waved, retorting, “Be my guest!”

You practically snarled, clenching your hands into fists as he hopped into his car, Jaebeom behind the wheel, and drove away.

Pivoting on your heels, you faced Jackson and Yugyeom and they turned their heads in opposite directions, pretending they hadn’t seen your petty lovers’ quarrel. Saying nothing, you trudged toward them and jumped into the backseat.

The moment you were concealed behind tinted windows, your lips spread into a wide smile that reached your eyes.

Jinyoung said he loved you.

Pulling out your phone, you texted him shamelessly, You said you love me.

A return text chimed not a minute later. Who is this?

You laughed aloud, propping your head in your hand against the window. The love of your life, you replied.

I see three days went by fast, was his retort.

You sighed. Don’t keep me away too long this time.

The next text took an extra minute to deliver, Come to the penthouse after dinner.

You smirked wryly and typed, I think I’ll sleep in my own bed tonight, Mr. Park. Goodnight.

Jinyoung looked down at the screen and pursed his lips. Sensing he had lost this round, he texted back, Goodnight, baby.

Jaebeom pulled a vibrating phone from his pocket and handed it to Jinyoung, saying, “Mark confirmed it.”

Jinyoung looked at the image and frowned. It was from a surveillance camera, captured in black and white. Jiwon and Seokjin; a seemingly harmless photo of two men talking on the street.

��He’s getting closer,” Jaebeom commented under his breath, speeding through a yellow light.

Jinyoung’s phone chimed with another text. The number was unknown and Jinyoung’s eyes widened in disbelief at the image attached.

It was you, standing on the deck of the parking garage, watching Jinyoung walk away only moments ago. The sunset was a clash of colors in the background and you had never looked more radiant.

She’s so beautiful, read the text beneath. Shall I take her away or shall I make her hate you, Jinyoung-ie?

Jinyoung stared at the text, reading it over and over. “Too fucking close,” he finally murmured.

← previous chapter | next chapter →

a/n : this story was previously Lacuna on my old blog, minheoney. I’m really excited to finally finish it! This fic was my baby for so long and I’m ridiculously happy to give it a new home :)

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[janekfan]

aah i just sent this prompt but tumblr told me it didn't send so if it sent twice ignore this!! so prompt: how about early s2, where jon is pulling away a bit but the others are concerned about it more than angry, getting a horrific migraine. like "has to leave a team meeting early" horrific. and the others know he wants to be left alone and try to respect it, but eventually they can't just ignore it anymore. <3 if you don't like this i can try again!

Oof, migraines. Amiright??? This is based on a personal experience of mine I had in college :D

My whole floor thought I was dying and almost dragged me to the hospital.

Thank you @taylortut as always for giving me such great ideas! :D

Looking back, Jon felt incredibly foolish.

Insisting that he could persist through his day without taking medication for headaches when it resulted in the same outcome every time was the very definition of insanity.

But, in his flimsy defense, they never started out badly and he got so caught up in his work that by the time he realized what was happening, it was far, far too late to do anything but suffer it out until it ended. Which is how he found himself here, now, nearly completely blind in his right eye while Elias droned on about workplace safety and considering recent events it seemed laughably mundane because yes, back strain from lifting incorrectly certainly outweighed a sentient worm queen trying to devour your assistants.

Filled with a desperate desire to rub away the disorientating blind spot, Jon let his focus slip over his employees.

Tim: bored. Not doing anything to hide it and Jon supposed he was at fault for that too, because he was certainly not paying Elias any mind.

Sasha: attentive. Most likely thinking of something else entirely while she nodded along to the lecture notes at the appropriate places.

Martin: engrossed. Despite his suspicions, mostly due to the constant checking in with him about how he was feeling, and really, maybe that was on him because maybe that’s what coworkers did after bravely surviving an onslaught of supernatural entities together. Despite them, he found it. Pleasant? Pleasant. That he would commit the effort to pay such careful attention.

Jon: quickly realizing this meeting would not be finished by the time the majority of the pain struck him like an oncoming lorry. By his estimations, based on when he first noticed the aura as a funny spot in his peripheral he tried to see around, he had roughly three minutes left.

Elias continued to endlessly intone while the buzzing lights continued to beat down on him and Jon fought against closing his eyes against them both and their ceaseless stabbing. Two minutes. Probably less and the anxiety which accompanied knowing almost exactly when he was about to be incapacitated rose like a tide and threatened to drag him under. Jon began to shake minutely as the agony manifested like an icepick in the back of his head and spread its grasping, greedy fingers. It took the rest of his very limited restraint to stay silent and keep breathing; shallow and slow, controlled and careful because the nausea was beginning to set in and throwing up during a staff meeting was at the very least, unwise.

But oh he needed somewhere silent, somewhere he could hide in total darkness and not move until he was able to force himself to sleep, to sleep, to sleep because that was the only way he’d found to make it through to the other side.

“Jon?” He was standing, blinking unevenly, fighting with himself and his desire to shield his face with both hands. The sound of his name was too loud. So loud and the murmuring of the others in the room created a beautiful sensory nightmare and if they knew his head was about to split open would they really be speaking so loudly? Doubtful. Martin. Martin wouldn’t at least.

“I’m leaving.” Inadequate, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to elaborate even if in his right mind he wouldn’t. And this wasn’t even the worst of it.

Each step was a rung up the ladder of agony and he’d taken to trailing a hand against the wall, not trusting his quickly dwindling balance and equilibrium. Rudely, without his express permission, a sob snuck past his clenched teeth and he just had to make it down the stairs, into the archives. Into the dark. The cot was still in document storage and the room would be dim and quiet and he could sleep. Please, let him sleep. Trembling so badly he could barely work the door handle, desperation doing its level best to claw its way through his ribcage, Jon began to panic. Gently, gently, gently, he closed the door behind him, trying to breathe because not breathing would make it worse. The buttons at his throat were so tight, the vest, while comfortable this morning was strangling him and he fought his way out of it like a tiger before all but tearing open his collar.

Sh. Shh. You’re alright. Shaky. Ill. But alright and you will be alright. Jon collapsed to the cot, sighing at the momentary relief laying down provided but there was still so much light and it was like glass behind his eyes even though they were closed as tightly as he dared close them. The blanket that had been left behind was very contradictory, too much and not nearly enough, and when it brushed the bare skin of his arms it felt like sandpaper but he wanted more of it. More weight so he could relax without feeling as though he was going to drift away because who even knew which way was up anymore? If he hadn’t left the meeting, he could’ve asked.

Don’t cry. Do. Not. Jonathan Sims. It made it worse, so much worse so he kept his tears trapped behind a false calm. Each time he’d thought he would die from one of these or at the very least prefer it and each time he woke the next day groggy and sore and exhausted, useless for anything except more sleep. He dropped his glasses on the floor, hugged his middle with one arm and threw the other over his face.

Please, please, please.

Just go to sleep.

“I’ll thank the rest of you for continued attention.” Martin nodded absently, worried. Jon didn’t just walk out of meetings. And he’d been so pale, rubbing his temple and wincing. A bad headache? He got those sometimes.

Didn’t like to be bothered about them either.

He caught Tim staring at him over the table, done with his paperclip sculpture for now it seemed, and he nodded just slightly toward the door with a questioning look. Martin just shrugged discreetly, now too distracted to pay attention to whatever Elias deemed important enough to waste their time with after an attack on the archives. Needless to say, the rest of the hour passed excruciatingly slow and as soon as they were released, Martin headed straight for Jon’s office, momentarily confused when it was empty.

“Not there?” Martin shook his head and Tim frowned in concern. “The cot? Maybe he needed a lie down?”

“You’re probably right.”

“Still strange.” He nodded in agreement, already headed to check, knocking quietly on the worn wood.

“Jon?” Martin swore he heard something suspiciously like a whimper before his voice floated through the door.

“Yes, Martin?” It was strange, off, wavery? The tail end of a gasping breath.

“You just, you left in such a hurry.” He’d give anything to open the door and see for himself. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m. Yes, Martin, I’m, I’m alright.” Jon was many things, a good liar was not one of them, but he was the type to lick his wounds alone, preferring not to show any vulnerability and Martin would respect it. “Bit tired.”

“Okay, I’ll. Check on you in a bit then. Bring some tea.”

“Yes, alright.” Despite his worry, Martin smiled at the tiny familiar spark of frustration.

When Martin spoke his voice seemed to echo in the hollows of Jon’s bones, reverberating into his head and only exacerbating the throbbing pain, not even really aware of what he was saying, just trying to get him to go away so he could be as still as possible in silence. The more he moved, the more it felt like his stomach was trying to turn inside out and the fear of moving, of being sick, of causing himself more hurt, made tears sting at the corners of his eyes, made him itch where they slipped down his face.

If it would just stop for a moment. If he could just fall asleep. Calm down. Stand to have anything against his skin right now.

He wanted to be alone and not be alone. Wanted Martin or Tim or Sasha to, to, he didn’t know, just wanted. The strange disconnect from his physical body was maddening, confusing, and he wanted so badly for it to please stop.

When Martin looked up, Sasha was so close to his desk he startled. He hadn’t heard her but she looked worried.

“I don’t think Jon is feeling very well.”

“I don’t think so either.”

“He’s been in there all day.” Tim joined them. “Maybe we should check on him again?” Martin looked at the clock. It had been hours since he’d talked to him and he had yet to reappear.

“You’re probably right.” This time, it was definitely a hurting sound and Martin decided it was for Jon’s own good to let himself in. He’d only just recovered from Prentiss, what if the stress had made him ill? “Jon?” He was curled into himself on the cot, clothes in disarray, vest discarded and half the blanket piled atop his face. When the door closed, Jon clapped his hand over his ear, the other tangled into his button down so tight Martin was afraid he’d pop the buttons. “You’re shaking.”

“Mmartin…” the barest exhale, pleading. “S’loud…so...so loud…”

“Okay, okay, what’s wrong?” He knelt beside him, resting his hand over Jon’s. “How can I help?”

“Jus’...jus’ need t’sleep.” Shuddering, his breath caught, was released, uneven, fast, gasping. “Can’t.” He decided at that moment that sound should never come from Jon again, not if ever he could help it and the fingers that had been digging into his greying hair were now clutching Martin’s.

“Okay. I’m coming back.” Jon seemed to collapse inward like a star and it was hard to leave him but he’d seen migraines before and it had been hours since what he guessed was the onset. “Tim, do you have any paracetamol?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Jon’s not well, of course.”

“Figures.”

“This time I really think it wasn’t his fault. These things sometimes come on suddenly.” Tim grumbled, digging through his desk and heading with Martin to the breakroom for some water, waiting while he brewed a strong black tea.

“He gets a pass. One time, Martin. This one time.” While the tea cooled Martin retrieved a few cloths from the drawer and a bowl of water.

“He needs quiet. Everything is really overwhelming right now. A lot of input and nowhere for it to go.”

“You’re the boss, Marto.” With a jaunty salute, Tim followed, staying calm and quiet, kneeling down to Jon’s level before whispering a greeting. “Hey. Gonna get you fixed right up.”

“Nnng…okay.”

“Jon? We’re going to help you sit up.” With no refusal forthcoming, Tim and Martin shared a look of alarm before lifting him as though he were made of spun glass and he buried his face in Martin’s soft, well worn jumper. “Good, Jon.” Martin pressed his palm against his forehead and found it cold and a little clammy, his clothes clung slightly with sweat and it seemed like he had trouble coordinating his limbs.

“Hur’s…” trembling, his muscles spasmed randomly, and Tim had to help hold his hand steady enough for a dose of paracetamol while Martin followed quickly with the bitter tea, washing the taste away with a sip of water.

“Okay, love. Doing such a good job. Almost done.” More tears. He went to nod, instead ending up with his head hanging, neck too tired to hold it up any longer and Martin eased him back down onto the pillow. “Let me know if this is too much.” He wrung out a flannel and smoothed it over his eyes, pleased when Jon groaned in slight relief. Tim stroked his hair, soft and slow, and together they waited, watched his shivering gradually stop and his breath deepen into sleep.

Sasha met them outside the door and Martin stepped further down the hall, just in case they were loud enough to wake him.

“Well?”

“He’s asleep, bad migraine.” Martin winced in sympathy, “and hopefully he’ll sleep through until morning.”

“That’s a relief.” Collectively, they agreed. Jon had been under a lot of pressure lately and while he’d never been one to confide in them often even those moments were becoming rare

Jon felt heavy, tired and slow, and when Martin opened the door with a mug of tea in one hand and a plate of toast in the other, he reasoned that he hadn’t dreamt the entirety of the day previous. Which meant he did sit through most of Elias’ dry speech about safety.

Embarrassing. To have walked out like that.

“Martin.” The memory of gentle hands and a soft voice made him flush.

“Jon, how’re you feeling?”

“Better, uh, much better. Thank you.” Sitting up was only somewhat a chore, the dizziness faded into the background for the most part. The fogginess was expected and would last a few days but for now he accepted the tea graciously, eyed the toast suspiciously, and settled on another round of painkillers and a few mouthfuls until he thought he might be pushing it. “Thank you, Martin.” He’d been in a bad way and at his wit’s end before he and Tim essentially rescued him. Passing back the empty mug and setting the remaining toast aside, Jon decided he deserved a lie in especially considering he was in that fragile inbetween where turning his head too fast would trigger another one. “If you see Tim before me, would you pass on my gratitude?”

“‘Course I will” Martin retrieved the dishes and turned back before closing the door. “Sleep well, Jon.”

[runningw-thewolves]

Why am I sharing this? Well, here’s why.

Loki first started sending signs to me in like, January, I think? Now, I had been working with Fenrir since November of last year, and I was really comfortable with Fenrir. Loki on the other hand. I had done some light reading and it seems that the way things were worded made it seem like Loki had bits in common with my abuser. So, naturally, my anxiety went rocketing past Mars and I was absolutely terrified of the mere idea of working with Loki, worshipping him, just straight up scared of him cause my anxiety decided to hit ‘Red Alert’.

It was in March when he sent more signs that I finally decided the only way to get the right information is to take the plunge and talk with other Loki followers/worshippers/Lokeans and... oh boy. That night when I joined a Loki chat, I had a full blown panic attack. I can confidently say the worst one I’ve ever experienced. My entire body was shaking to the point that my back was sore. My throat was dry and my eyes couldn’t stop streaming with tears as I tried to make sense of the cacophony of noise in my mind and type it with hands barely able to stay still. Thankfully, someone was on and they helped calm me down and gave me reassurance about Loki. Eventually, when I calmed down enough that I was more present in my mental state, I think I heard someone speak. “Wow. He fucked you up, didn’t he?”

I believe that was a Saturday evening, perhaps? So on Monday, I invoked Fenrir and asked him to assist me in communicating with Loki. I had two candles lit - one for Fenrir, one for Loki. I had brought up I believe some chicken for Fenrir as an offering, a sort of pay for helping me communicate with Loki. So, I started talking and admitted I was straight up nervous about what I was doing. I explained my worries and concerns - stemming from child abuse, which lead to me developing depression, anxiety and PTSD alongside having been born Autistic. I attempted to use tarot, which failed miserably and I could sense an audible sigh so I used my ‘last resort’ technique of asking a ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ question and giving each direction (left or right) one of those answers and watching the flame. It works as a last resort, and it’s what I use as a last resort. I made a compromise with Loki on one of my concerns, which I might talk about another day, and asked him if he was OK with it - he said yes. I also proposed a grace period with Loki, so I can get to know him more casually. Again, I asked if he was alright with this, and he agreed.

Now, in that time, everything has changed. That tension and anxiety has mostly melted away - it still rears its head every now and then, but what can you do? I went from straight up terrified of Loki to not being able to see my journey without him and his family. I’ve been learned so much, about not just my present but also my past. And it seems that childish wish that young 5 year old me wished did in fact come true, just not how I imagined. I always wanted my abuser’s approval as a child, cause I loved him. Of course, he never loved me though. I wanted to know what it was like to have a loving father you could run to when everything was going wrong. All I had known was being shouted out, belittled, berated and degraded, blackmailed and threatened left, right and centre. So when I realised I had begun to see Loki as what I had always dreamed of as a child - what I saw in the movies and books - my anxiety came back. I felt I was overstepping a boundary, like I was forcing myself into a family. It ate at me for several weeks, but I eventually told Loki. I finally admitted to him - after several minutes of hesitation from rejection and abandonment issues - that I had begun to see him as the father my own should’ve been. I think for a split second he was stunned, surprised even, but that quickly changed into care. I was crying bucket loads, so I can see why. What was the strangest part was after I had admitted to it. He gave me a little nickname; “daughter”. He said it twice, and both times I was sat in silence for a solid minute, processing. It was this evening the little ‘We sang the theme song of Bolt’ incident happened.

Now, just around the beginning of me opening up to him, Stray Kids’ Changbin and Felix released a song. Loki was practically screaming at me to listen to it so I did. I had first thought it was in regards to Sigyn - “I know you love your wife, dude. You don’t need to tell me about it.” Now though, I’ve come to realise he wasn’t talking about Sigyn. He was talking about me. Somehow, he knew that they were releasing the song and it described his thoughts about me and got me to listen to it. “Those sparkling eyes of yours, overwhelming with joy, they become waterfalls if I were to make a wrong move, I’m so terrified that I could end up hurting you, because I really like you.” “I love your genuine, heart-bared, honest eyes, and how you’re fucking shit at telling lies.” “I love how your face says it when you simply won’t, how you can’t hide when you’re feeling like shit.” It’s a not-so-well-hidden secret of mine that my emotions are easily translated on my face. You can tell when I’m hurting pretty damn easily. What hit me weeks later when speaking with some mates I made in the Loki chat was the meaning. “I’m so terrified that I could end up hurting you.” In other words; “I’m terrified that if I do something that reminds you of your father, you won’t trust me anymore.” It puts into perspective why he’s been so patient, why he has been just so careful with me. So, in a way this song is my response.

“Maybe I know somewhere deep in my soul that love (family) never lasts, and we’ve got to find other ways to make it alone and keep a straight face. And I’ve always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance, and up until now I had sworn to myself that I’m content with loneliness. Cause none of it was ever worth the risk, but darling, you are the only exception.” There will always be a place for my grandfather deep in my heart - the father-figure I did have in my youth - and that will never change. But even he couldn’t help heal the deep scar of having a father who was just shitty through and through. Loki, on the other hand? I’m not sure if one can sense this, but I can feel that wound closing up. Loki understands so much about my traumas, my aspirations, fears and dreams. He has seen my hurt, listened to my hurt, and I always get the feeling that he listened properly. Properly tuned in. I’m still getting used to it. The one thing I’ve come to love the most about Loki is how when I’m depressed, he knows just what I am needing in that exact moment; a hug. I can tell when he’s hugging me cause he’s done it so damn much. Even when I had managed to anger him and I was practically eroding myself with guilt, he still gave me a hug. I can always hear his whisper when I’m upset. “It’s OK. You’re OK.” The only downside is I can tell he is hugging me cause my back and shoulders start getting sore for no explicable reason - and trust me, I’ve tested how the pain manifests multiple times and it still doesn’t have any explanation. It’s not that bad though - it’s actually really reassuring.

I said to myself I’d make my decision at the end of April. And well, it pretty much is. And this won’t be the first or last time Loki reads over my shoulder (hi!). At this point, to say ‘No’ would kill me, destroy me from the inside. So, I guess my answer is rather obvious then; of course. I don’t want this journey to end yet. I’m sure Vali will be happy to hear that. LOL But I guess it’s official now, huh? Would ‘Lokean’ be the right term? For now, I don’t know. But of course I’ll work with Loki. The sly rascal he is, getting me this attached. LOL Still, I can’t complain. I wonder if Sigyn was also calling out to me like my mate suggested; I’m sure you probably know, don’t ya, Loki? Well, I guess I better prepare for the entire family swarming the house like this is The Addams Family. So, here’s to the journey and where it goes next.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner O/S: A Grievous Burden

Summary: Post Sokovia Steve struggles to deal with the deep routed effects Wanda’s magic has on his mind as once more his dreams become haunted with the ghosts of his past.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language, angst, night terrors...

A/N: As part of SSB’s Birthday celebrations I decided to publish this little one shot/drabble which sits between Ch 24- Like The Old Man Said...Together, and Ch 25- All Dressed Up And Nowhere To Go.

Steve Rogers was no stranger to bad dreams. But his recurring nightmares had been a thing of the past, certainly since he’d started sleeping next to Katie at night. Her presence comforted him, allowed him to sleep for the most peacefully. But ever since getting back from Sokovia both Katie and Steve had been plagued by bad dreams. Katie’s seemed to be less vivid, mostly centred around the moment she had thought their time was up until Fury had shown up, but Steve’s subconscious for some reason didn’t seem to take him anywhere near Sokovia. Instead, he was catapulted back in time to various points during the war. It was unnerving for him but mostly, they were just that, bad dreams...until one night, for the first time he could remember, he suffered a full scale hallucinating night terror. 

The first Katie knew of it was when he was pinning her down against the mattress and shielding her from something.

"Steve." she said gently. Nothing, he simply flattened himself against her further, right arm curled around her head.

"Stay down," he ordered firmly.

"What's going on?" she asked softly, still coming round from the sleep he had roused her from.

"Air strike, men in the hall.”  He said, turning to her "I'll head for the door, cause a distraction. You get to the bathroom, get in the tub, cover your head."

She listened intently, then realised what he had said. Air Strike. He must have been dreaming he was back in the war again. She let out a breath and relaxed, reaching up to take his face in her hands.

"Stevie, nobody's there. Everything's quiet."

"You can't hear them?" he looked at her frowning.

"Sweetheart, do you trust me?" she asked.

He nodded. “With my life, you know this Katie...”

"Ok, well, I promise you - there's no air raid, nobody in the hall."

For a moment, Steve just stared at her, his face wracked with confusion. Then, swallowing hard, he closed his eyes. After a moment he raised his head to look around before his face fell back on hers as her thumbs gently moved in long arcs down the sides of his face.

"Steve?"

With a shuddering breath, he pulled himself up, reaching for his shield by the bedroom door. Picking it up he listened for a moment before throwing the door open and he walked out into the hallway. Katie sat in bed listening to the sound of various other doors being opened and shut as he meticulously swept the whole of their floor, checking windows and closets until he ended up back in their room.

His back and chest were both glistening with sweat. He looked at her, his eyes wide before he went into the en-suite and she heard the tap running and the sound of water being splashed against what she assumed was his face. She gave him a few minutes before she followed him, where he was stood leaning forward, forehead pressed to the mirror, chest and shoulders heaving.

“Stevie…” she said gently, as she slipped both her arms round his waist, pressing a kiss to his bare, clammy shoulder. Her touch seemed to do the trick as he took one deep breath and turned to face her.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked his eyes looking at her as the palms of her hands spread across his lower back.

"Of course not." she said, shaking her head.

He wrapped his arms around her and she lay her head on his chest and felt his heartbeat as it gradually evened out. Neither of them spoke for a while.

“Your dreams… they’re getting worse." Katie said gently.

“It'll get better," he finally managed. “You know it's been bad before. It will fade after a while."

Katie knew from experience that everyone dealt with traumatic experiences differently. For example, Tony suffered panic attacks and went completely off the rails post both his soiree in the Afghanistan cave and New York. She tended to take a lot of things as they came and worry about them for a while but after screaming and crying would then give herself a kick up the ass to either change things or deal with them. Steve’s worry seemed to manifest itself two fold. He would either be suffering from the inability to stay calm and therefore would exercise, pounding out frustrations on either the pavement or the punching bags. And then there was this, the nightmares. Normally Katie would wake with his jostling but if she didn’t, he would always shake her awake if he needed her, as that was the agreement they had. She would then help him back to sleep either by talking or they would engage in some other un-coventional means of therapy until both of them were spent and satiated enough to return to slumber.

Katie gently took his hand and led him out of the bathroom turning off the light. As they reached the bed he waited until she was in it, pulling the duvet up over her before snagging a pillow and turning to go.

"Where do you think you're going?"

He shrugged. "Thought I'd camp out on the couch. I don't want to keep you awake."

“No way…” she said, throwing back the duvet “Come on.”

He sighed and climbed in as she opened her arms for him to settle his head on her chest, gently stroking his hair as he swallowed, his breathing steadying as her touch soothed him.

"Where were you this time?" she asked

"Azzano… I think” he sighed “To be honest with you, I saw so many things, the dreams now…they all blur into one.”

“You wanna talk about it?” He took a deep breath “It was just loud, and I was in a building and I couldn’t get out. It was so real. When I woke up I knew where I was. I knew who you were, but I just…I dunno…”

They lay in silence, Katie continually stroking his hair as he nuzzled into her closer. She kissed the top of his head and was pleased when about 10 minutes later she heard his breathing start to lower and his head became heavy. He had managed to drift off.

*****

The next night he woke with a start, but that was it. There was no walking or hallucinating, he merely woke from a bad dream and climbed out of bed for a glass of water. When he came back, there was no talking, but he sought solace in his girl in another way, his lips kissing her hard, his hands reaching out and roving over every bit of her body he could find and he fucked her, hard, losing himself completely. They lay afterwards, sweaty foreheads pressed together and Katie simply held him close as they both came round. Eventually he moved off, pulled her to him and they fell asleep, limbs tanged around one another, his hold tight.

The next few nights he was peaceful, and Katie was hopeful that the terrors had passed, but then, four nights after the first incident he broke his hand.

Captain America could put his fist through a two-by-four with nothing worse than slightly reddened knuckles - but Steve Rogers’  hand hadn't been in a fist. Katie had woken to his hoarse cry of “Buck!!!”, in time to see his outstretched, fingers slamming straight through the plasterboard and into a metal stud in the wall as he flailed out of bed, reaching for a man who had fallen some seventy years earlier.

Katie scrambled over the bed like a shot as he was yelling out for Bucky again and again as he knelt among scattered pieces of plaster and wood, his left arm buried inside the wall up to the shoulder.

"Steve," she tried, but he didn't respond, eyes fixed in a thousand-yard stare, face crumpled with an agony that was more than physical, breath hitching and ragged. She felt the tears spring into her eyes and she was just about to ask FRIDAY to send Tony to help when she heard the door to their penthouse burst open and a few moments later Thor strode into the bedroom dressed in a pair of black sweatpants, hammer in his hand.

“I heard the Captain yell, and…” he trailed off as he took in the situation at a glance and then crouched next to Katie.

“He’s dreaming…” she said gently, “He’s dreaming about Bucky, his friend, falling…”

Thor frowned absently, brushing his fingers across the captain's temples as though he was trying to work out a problem. Then abruptly, he rose and was gone, moving almost silently through the darkness.

Whilst he was gone Katie managed to gently work Steve’s arm out of the wall. His broken hand lay twitching in her lap and she was horribly aware that they would need to set the bones before they healed wrong. Thankfully, Thor wasn’t gone long, and he was not alone when he returned, hand firm around Wanda's shoulder. The girl's eyes were wide and her hair was tangled - obviously she had been sleeping.

"Thor," Katie began to protest as she glanced round at Steve. The last thing he would want would be to come back to reality in the middle of some kind of impromptu party.

Thor held up a hand, pausing her even as he turned his full attention to Wanda

"Do you see?" he asked gravely. "Do you understand now what The Vision told you?"

Trembling, Wanda shook her head even as she went to her knees beside Steve. He was still unresponsive, but his breathing was beginning to laboriously even out and Katie knew he was fighting for control. She started to sweep her hand up and down his back in long, firm strokes in the hope it would bring him back round.

Thor knelt too, sounding as though he were some kind of instructor. "When you allowed Stark's fears to work against him," he began patiently, "you found his weakness and dug deep."

Wanda nodded slowly.

"Our Captain carries a grievous burden as well," Thor continued, "He has been sorely wounded and works to heal, but your incautious workings have torn his memories open."

“Thor…” Katie said gently as a horror stricken look crossed Wanda’s face.

"I am sorry," she whispered. "I didn't know. How can I fix it?"

For the first time, Thor hesitated. "My brother would have known," he admitted in a low voice. "He had the skill, when it pleased him to use it." He paused again, and then continued, hesitating slightly. "You must consider carefully, and proceed as seems good to you."

Biting her lip, Wanda looked up at Katie, her stricken eyes locked onto hers.

“If you can, remind him where he is," Katie said gently. “Just bring him round?”

Hesitantly, uncertainly, Wanda pointed and curled her fingers before Steve’s face and closed her eyes. Tendrils of red light flickered from her hands to his temples, and Katie tensed involuntarily. For a moment, nothing happened. Then Steve’s eyes flew open, and his uninjured hand darted up faster than sight to lock around Wanda's wrist, breaking the connection. She squeaked, startled, and froze.

“Steve…” Katie touched his arm causing him to flinch. It took him a second and then he seemed to realize where he was and what was going on. He let go of Wanda's wrist, and looked around at Katie, then Thor hovering behind the young Sokovian, and finally the familiar surroundings of their bedroom. Eventually he looked back at Wanda for a long moment before nodding once.

"Thanks."

A tear slid down her cheek. "I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely. "I tried to put everything back in place, but I don't know how."

"Can't fix everything," he assured her, with a twisted smile. His old Brooklyn accent came out very strong in this unguarded moment. "And I wouldn't wantcha t' try. There's things in my head you shouldn't ever hafta see."

Wanda wrapped both her arms around herself. Her eyes still looked haunted. "He was like your brother, wasn't he?" she quavered.

Steve bowed his head as Thor dropped a gentle arm round her shoulders.

"We have all lost brothers," he rumbled, looking at her. "We know your pain. You do not face this alone."

Katie could feel Steve was quivering, exhausted beyond words though he wouldn't show it for the world, and all she wanted to do in that moment was to bind up his hand and then put him to bed. As she looked up to suggest to the others they might want to go she was surprised to see Wanda had squared her jaw with determination and she reached out once more.

"I can fix this, at least."

Steve's hurt hand suddenly glowed with red fire. He jumped, surprised, and then watched with fascination as the crooked fingers began re-align themselves. When the bones were straight again, the fire flickered out, and Wanda staggered to her feet to go, Thor right behind her.

“You ok for a moment?” Katie asked Steve and he nodded. She followed the two of them into the hall and gave a short groan as she saw the door that led to the stairs (which were never used) had been completely kicked off its hinges.

“Sorry.” Thor said, picking up the heavy door “I heard the screams and…well, I didn’t know what was going on.” “Just prop it up as best you can…I’ll let you out in the elevator.”

He propped it up, and dragged the sofa over towards it for good measure.

“I really am sorry…” Wanda whispered, tears in her eyes.

“I know, and so does he.” Katie said, giving her a hug. “He will be fine…” Her attention then turned to Thor as she gave the God a hug. “Thank you.” “Any time Little Stark.” He breathed into her hair, before the 2 of them stepped into the elevator.

Katie looked around, trying to think about how they could explain a broken door plus a hole in the wall to Tony, then she realised she didn’t care. She headed into the kitchen, rummaging through the first aid kit for an elastic bandage to keep his fingers straight and wrapped up safely whilst his fast healing worked its magic.

He was sat on the side of the bed when she re-entered the room, his injured hand cradled in his other.

“Here…” she said, and she gently took his hand as he surrendered to her ministrations.

“Is Wanda ok?” he asked gently.

“Yeah, but I’m more concerned about you.” she said, laying his hand down gently onto my lap. “Baby…” “I’m sorry.” He said softly, laying his head against hers.

“What for?” “This…for scaring you?” “Stop it.” She said sternly “I love you, you idiot, I just want you to be ok.” “I will be…” he smiled softly, his lips catching hers “Given time.”

The next day, Katie dragged Steve out for a walk in Central Park, but first she spoke to Tony about the door and the wall. He was surprisingly sympathetic, and didn’t mention the issue to Steve once. By the time Steve and Katie returned home that afternoon both were fixed, the only evidence any repairs had taken place was the smell of fresh paint and plaster which lingered in the apartment for a few days. What thankfully didn’t linger were Steve’s night terrors. Katie didn’t know what it was that Wanda did, but his bones healed straight and it seemed that his mind had healed somewhat straight too. Whilst he persisted with the odd bad dream, they were getting less and less frequent, and there was no repeat of the two hallucinations he had suffered which was a relief to her, as she knew with time and patience and rest, the dreams would stop as well.

[naruwitch]

Code Geass: Paladins of Voltron Chapter 37: Battle for Home

The entire perimeter of the Tokyo Settlement had crumbled. All power shorted out throughout the entire city, including the areas that haven't been destroyed yet. Any Galran-Brittainian forces on the ground had been crushed or scattered. Even the Galra vessels in the sky had been thrown off-guard, especially after the Castleship's massive attack, flying around frantically like drunken bees.

It was a window of confusion that the Voltron Coalition didn't let go to waste.

"ATTACK!"

Lelouch's booming cry from the head of Voltron was all the fleet needed to surge forward. Like shooting stars, the Seishins, Lancelot, Gawain, and any other upgraded Knightmares they had at their disposal launched into the settlement. From the sky, the Castleship's particle barrier rose once more, but it didn't retreat up into the clouds. Practically making up an army on its own, lasers and blasts from the barrier raining down on the Galra ships, providing much needed cover for the Black Knights in combat.

There were also ground Knightmares and additional troops on the ground, with Ohgi in the lead to take down any remaining straggling Britannian troops.

"Third Squad, take the media sector!" Tohdoh ordered as the map of the areas to secure appeared on his Knightmare's screen, "Sixth Squad, the harbor! Special Forces, suppress the lower levels! The rest of you, push in from the front! Leave the Galra forces to the Aerial troops! Focus on gathering intelligence on any remaining enemy ground forces! Quickly!"

"My soldiers! Hear me!" Cornelia shouted from within the Gawain, the Lancelot flanking her, "Push them back to the Britannian Government Bureau!"

"Yes, Princess!" her squadron answered as one, Guilford, Darlton, and Nonette's voices among them.

"Form sword!" Lelouch ordered. With a growl, Suzaku slammed his Bayard into the port and the weapon manifested. With a burst from its rockets, Voltron sped towards the closest Galra cruiser, the sword slicing through it like a hot knife through butter.

"Alright!" Rivalz exclaimed before pausing, Polaris's purr suddenly increasing, "What…?" the Blue Paladin suddenly gasped as the Bayard port slowly rose from the dashboard, "You sure?"

"What is it, Rivalz?" Lelouch questioned.

"Um, not sure, but Polaris wants to try something!"

"Let's do it then!" Milly exclaimed eagerly, similar feelings bouncing off the other Paladins as well.

"Here goes nothing then!" Rivalz shouted as he slammed his Bayard into the port.

Outside, the sword in Voltron's hand vanished, only for a blue outline to form on the robot's right shoulder. Grasping the cannon with both arms, a bright glow enveloped the muzzle before a flash exploded out, huge sonic waves escaping and racing towards another Galran vessel. The ship froze in mid-flight, the lights inside flickering dangerously before everything went dark, and the cruiser descended into the sea, humongous waves blasting away from the impact.

"Whoa! Nice!" Tamaki cheered from his Seishin as he and a few other Knightmares paused in flight to witness the display.

"That's a new one," Darlton muttered in awe, vaguely remembering the similar cannon that would appear on the Blue Lion's back from time to time. The knight would admit that while he hated having to fight the Paladins as enemies, as allies, they were incredible.

Nunnally barely noticed how her arms began to ache from squeezing them too hard as she stared down at her legs. She could vaguely hear the sounds of cannons and lasers flying outside as her brother, his friends, and other allies were fighting for the very fate of their home. And now, even after regaining her legs and sight, she still felt useless. She knew her brother had told her otherwise, but she couldn't stop the feeling of helplessness crawling through her body.

Why was it that every time she tried to help, to accomplish something good, it crumbled in her hands? At the zone, when her own father had raised guns at her and her family,  Lelouch had been the one to shield her, and she had just froze. Exactly like she had when-

"Nunnally, take a deep breath for me…" C.C.'s calm voice ordered softly, shaking her from what she now realized was a minor panic attack.

Still, she did her best to obey and took a shuddering breath in and out, slowly returning to herself.

"There, feeling better?" the immortal asked, her blunt voice laced with concern.

Nunnally swallowed but nodded slightly. Dragging her eyes from her legs, they landed on Euphemia, still unconscious in the pod behind her, but at least alive.

"...This is too much," Nunnally whispered, "Why did it come down to this? He… he tried to kill  Euphie. He tried to…"

Kill me… remained unsaid.

C.C. sighed, not in frustration but out of pure resignation and exhaustion. "There are simply people in this world who… aren't good, Nunnally. They won't accept anything unless it's for their benefit. I've met more than my fair share of those people in my long life."

Nunnally grit her teeth, tears prickling the corners of her eyes. "Yes, I know that… And I know big brother told me this isn't true, but I still feel useless! Brother and the others are all fighting, risking their lives, and I still can't do anything even with my sight and legs back!"

C.C. took a moment to gather her thoughts. This wasn't Lelouch, who she could be straightforward and factual with in her nearly emotionless tone. This was a scared, desperate young girl who had been thrown time and again into situations she shouldn't have to deal with.

"...Nunnally, just because you aren't out there fighting doesn't mean you're useless. Everyone has a role to play in war. Some find their roles right away like the Paladins did. Others discover their roles later, waiting and watching for the time to come. That act alone can be excruciating. And there are even those who don't realize until the conflict ends that they  did  play a role when they look back and realize that their smaller, seemingly unseen actions, helped bring victory."

C.C. paused as the young princess looked up.

"And sometimes, there are simply places that we need to be that aren't the battlefield. And right now, your sister needs someone to be here when she wakes up, and…" she paused, then placed a hand on Nunnally's shoulder, "You're not alone here, Nunnally. I promised your brother I'd be there for him, and I'll be here for you as well."

Nunnally felt her emotions boil over and couldn't stop herself from lunging at C.C. She felt like she had cried so much the last several days, both from sorrow and happiness, but these were most certainly tears of gratitude.

"Thank you…" she hiccuped, "Thank you for helping Lelouch. And Suzaku, and everyone! Thank you… thank you…"

C.C. froze for a moment in surprise at the sudden action, but slowly, her arms wrapped around the young girl as well.

"I will," she whispered back, "I'll be there for all of you…"

  'And you won't lay so much as a finger on them, Charles. Or you… Marianne.'

A beeping sound soon attracted the pair's attention, and in a burst of steam, the frame on Euphemia's pod dissolved. Her eyes shot open with a gasp as she slumped forward, C.C. catching her before she could hit the ground.

Chigusa shielded her eyes as a bright laser from the Castle's shields struck an oncoming Galra fighter, where it burst into flames and impacted the barrier itself. While the hexagonal pieces made it difficult to view the fight from a window, she caught glimpses of battle on the ground and air. People were fighting for their lives outside, fighting a seemingly impossible battle in hopes that they may be able to win and save their home.

She let out a shuddering breath, daring to wonder just how many had died now. The massacre that happened just hours prior had been devastating enough, and while she lent her assistance in treating the injured that were brought on board, so many more still succumbed to their injuries. And that nightmare wasn't over yet.

A jolt of pain suddenly pierced her skull. Chigusa groaned and clutched her head, any surrounding sounds and noise being drowned out from the buzzing in her skull.

The Gawain's hadron cannons unleashed a devastating attack against a group of nearly three dozen Galra fighters, melting the metal and exploding moments later.

"Die you alien scum!" Cornelia roared as she fired the Knightmare's slash harkens into two more she had missed.

A crash from behind her made her jump, and looking at her monitor, she spotted Guilford's Seishin lowering his maser sword and a fighter, cut cleanly in two, descending to the ground.

"Tch," she scoffed, "Coward, attacking from behind!"

"Are you alright, Princess?" Guilford asked.

"Yes, don't worry about me, Guilford. What's the status of the rest of the squad?"

"Our casualties are substantial, but the Glaston Knights and Darlton are holding a position just ahead of here, pushing towards the Bureau as you ordered. Nonette is providing back up where she can."

"Excellent! Continue at this pace. Our comrades' deaths won't be in vain! Lelouch, did you catch that?"

"Every word, Cornelia," Lelouch acknowledged as Voltron's sonic cannon disabled another cruiser, "Ohgi, status on ground troops?"

"Raiko cannons are at the ready!" Kaname responded, "Ground troops mostly consist of those sentry robots and Britannian infantry units!"

"Concentrate the Raikos on the Britannian forces. Use your own Knightmare weapons on the sentries. Aim for the heads and arms to disable them!"

"Understood!"

"Suzaku! We need the sword again," Lelouch exclaimed as the sonic cannon vanished.

To his surprise, though, the Purple Paladin didn't respond.

"Suzaku?!" Rai exclaimed.

From inside Yoru, Suzaku was frozen. Not in fear or shock, but it seemed like someone had pressed the pause button on a television. His eyes were wide and staring straight ahead, the left glowing bright with the Geass sigil. It wasn't until several seconds later that the Purple Paladin blinked and shook his head.

"What the…?" What had just happened? He saw a large object approaching Earth rapidly. What was-

"SUZAKU!" the rest of the team shouted in unison.

"Uh-sorry!" he scrambled to realign and sync his mind with the group once more.

"Keep your head in the game, Kururugui!" Kallen barked.

"Right… sorry!" he apologized, shaking his head, but couldn't shake the image of a familiar dark transport crashing onto the battlefield from his mind.

Focusing once more, he reinserted his Bayard, the sword manifesting once more.

"Lady Haggar,"  a head druid addressed on the ship's main bridge, "The latest weapons are now complete. Lord Zarkon has ordered their launch and will reach your destination within five dobashes."

"Good," Haggar acknowledged, "These humans are more resilient than we originally thought. But even with the assistance of the Altean princess, this world will fall by day's end."

"Haggar, if I may, I have an idea I'd like to propose," V.V. approached slowly as the call ended.

"Hm?" she turned to the immortal, eyes narrowing.

V.V. scowled at first before his features schooled themselves again, "Right now, the Paladins and Black Knights are focused on the battlefield, they likely have only left the bare minimum necessary on the Castle of Lions, in order to guard their families and the rescued civilians."

"I advise you get to the point," Haggar frowned deeply, eyes seeming to drill into V.V.

"I simply request you transport me on board the castle," V.V. explained, "I would do it myself with the help of the Thought Elevator, but unfortunately, that pesky Black Lion destroyed it on the island, making my range more limited, hence why I'm asking for assistance."

"And why would I assist with this?" she asked scathingly.

V.V. resisted the urge to growl at being talked down to so belligerently but continued, "It's simple. I will capture Princess Nunnally and C.C. as well. They are both on board and likely not being guarded too closely. This could be a prime opportunity to deal a more… personal blow to Zero."

Haggar wasn't the only one to glare suspiciously at the immortal at this proposal, as Charles eyed his brother cautiously as well. He could see where his brother's line of thinking was going. Above all else, Lelouch's first priority was, and always would be, Nunnally. If he heard she was in danger, he would likely drop everything, even abandon the battlefield to help her.

"It could work," Charles finally spoke, "So long as she remains safe, everything else comes second to Zero. If V.V. succeeds, we'll have a firm hold on Voltron, and the rest of Earth will have little to no resistance without a leader. And if that's not enough, my Geass can rewrite her memories. I could make her despise Zero, which would deal a further emotional blow to Zero and the Paladins as well."

"While that is true," Haggar admitted, "Why capture this C.C.? Your power will have no effect on her. She will be of little use as a pawn."

"Perhaps," V.V. agreed, "but it's best to keep someone like her, who holds to the ability as me to grant Geass, away from our enemies. You are more than welcome to do anything you want with her. With your forces on our side, she's outlived her usefulness."

Haggar continued to stare suspiciously at the two and didn't miss the way Charles's eyes flickered at the mention of this 'C.C.' It was clear they, or at least he was planning something with the girl. But, should she be in their hands, Haggar could have more control over her whereabouts and keep a closer eye on these two. Plus, if the smaller one's plan succeeded, it sounded like they would severely cripple Voltron, which would make it that much easier for her Lord to obtain the Lions.

"Very well," Haggar finally conceded, "I will go along with your plan… Under the condition that both of them are brought first to me. Should you do so otherwise, there will be… painful consequences. Am I clear?"

Both V.V. and Charles hesitated for a moment before they both nodded.

Before V.V. turned to leave, though, Haggar held out her hand, and to the bewilderment of the two, a small ball of energy formed in her palm before shrinking to about the size of a marble.

"Take this," she instructed, holding her hand out to V.V. The 'boy' hesitated before plucking the marble from her palm, "If you truly wish to succeed in this mission, have that make contact with the woman. It will render her powerless."

V.V. looked at the marble skeptically once more before smirking and stashing it in his pocket.

"You have my thanks…"

"Ha!" Kallen exclaimed as Voltron slammed its surger claw into the bow of another Galra cruiser. It lit up like a nightlight before the insides imploded, sending debris flying everywhere. "Alright! Who's next?!"

"Paladins!"  Coran suddenly exclaimed through the comms.

"Go on, Coran," Lelouch requested.

  "We believe we've identified the Galra's flagship. If it's destroyed, it will destabilize the Galras' communication! From there, it should be easy to push back any remaining Galra troops!"

At hearing this, Lelouch couldn't help but grin widely. The other Paladins shared similar sentiment through the link.

"Very good, then we-"

"Paladins, wait!" Allura's panicked voice suddenly interrupted.

"What's wrong, Allura?" Milly asked, immediately noticing her tone.

  "Something large is approaching Earth's atmosphere, and it's not another warship!"

"Something large…?" Rivalz asked.

Suzaku felt his blood grow cold. His mind flashed back to the… vision (?) he had just over fifteen dobashes prior. He had seen something large crash land on the battlefield. Could have…?

"All Black Knights, projectile incoming!" Lelouch warned as he spotted the object Allura mentioned rapidly approaching.

Several Seishins, both ground and air, scrambled to get out of the way as with a deafening crash, the object landed in front of Voltron.

An object with a certain coffin-like shape to it.

"Oh no…" Shirley whispered in horror, "Is that… what I think it is…?"

"Yeah," Kallen nodded, "Looks like we got another Ro-Beast!"

"Zero, what is that?!" Chiba demanded as most other forces, both with and against Voltron, stopped to stare at the newest threat.

"Bad news…" was all Lelouch could say before, with a resounding click, the device opened, clouds of steam emanating from inside. The front and sides of the structure tumbled to the ground, revealing the grotesque monster within.

The creature this time was colored almost completely white with only a few hints of red and purple, with a pointed head, long limbs, and even a hunched back. Much like the Drazil Ro-Beast, the creature's mouth was aligned with sharp, overlapping teeth.

"Black Knights! Evacuate the area! We'll deal with this!" Lelouch ordered.

"You're facing that thing on your own?!" Nonette's voice exclaimed.

"Nonette, we'll be fine. This isn't the first Ro-Beast we've fought!" Rai barked, "Just focus on your own fight!"

The beast's head then suddenly jerked up, and malicious red eyes flashed to life. A sound similar to a rumbling growl could be heard as it gazed around before finally landing on Voltron. Its eyes widened upon seeing them before it threw its head back and screamed.

On the ground and in the air, several Knightmares faltered as their pilots were forced to cover their ears. Even Cornelia, Nonette, and Guilford did, and they were the ones most used to being around bomb explosions and Knightmare engines.

The only ones unaffected were the Paladins themselves. And a good thing too, as seconds later, long, sharp claws shot out from the beast, aiming to pierce Voltron's chest.

"Rai, shield!" Lelouch shouted almost frantically.

The Green Lion's shield blocked the metallic claws in the knick of time, scraping across like nails on a chalkboard.

This action only seemed to enrage the Ro-Beast, as it shrieked again and charged at them, purple flaming jetpacks blazing behind it.

On instinct, Shirley and Rivalz fired Voltron's thrusters as well, and Voltron shot into the sky. To their shock, the Ro-Beast followed after them with barely any delay, almost like it knew they were going to dodge upward. It pulled a clawed hand back again.

"Okay, two can play at that game, bud!" Kallen exclaimed, plunging her Bayard into her port.

The wave surger claw manifested, and Kallen swung with a roar towards the Ro-Beast's head… only for the beast to catch the arm right under Aka's neck, effectively stopping the surger without injuring its hand or head.

"What?!" Kallen gasped.

"It stopped us?!" Milly added, just as shocked as the others.

The Ro-Beast didn't waste the opportunity as it head-butted Voltron and threw him downwards, impacting the ground hard.

Lelouch grunted in pain, Zen's cockpit still vibrating from the impact. "Okay…" he gritted out.

"Alright, this guy is asking for it!" Rivalz snarled, reinserting his own Bayard. The sonic cannon reappeared on Voltron's shoulder, blasting a bout of sonic waves at the Ro-Beast. Twisting like a fighter jet in a show, the Ro-Beast easily dodged every blast sent its way.

"Suzaku! Sword!" Lelouch shouted.

Suzaku's Bayard released the sword in the knick of time as the weapon blocked the beast's claws, scraping loudly, metal on metal, before managing to push it off of them and rocket into the sky again, kicking up a large cloud of dust in the process. The beast screeched as the cloud engulfed the area.

Seeing this as an opportunity, Lelouch narrowed his eyes, "Shirley! Arrows now!"

Seconds later, Voltron's bow appeared in his hands, and with his eyes to the back of the Ro-Beast, they let the arrow lose…

...Only for the Ro-Beast to duck like it was casually dodging a ball in a park.

"What?!" Kallen exclaimed.

"Tha-Does it have eyes on the back of its head or something?!" Rivalz exclaimed.

"Tch… what the hell's going on?!" Lelouch cursed before Voltron flew into the sky again, and this time the Ro-Beast followed with a roar after them.

"Lelouch!" Cornelia gasped, watching in horror as the enemy robot gave close chase to Voltron.

"Nelly!" Nonette exclaimed, the Lancelot spinning through the air to Cornelia's side. She seemed to be thinking the same thing, as both women attempted to follow, hoping to assist somehow.

Keyword 'attempted.'

A loud popping sound drew everyone's eyes to the coffin-like structure again, and this time, another machine, this one much smaller than the first, burst out, spinning vigorously and charging right towards the Gawain and the Lancelot.

Cornelia cursed as she barely maneuvered the Knightmare away from what she realized were spinning blades from the new weapon. While it was still much smaller than the Ro-Beast, it was at least three times bigger than even the Gawain.

"What is-"

"ALL HAIL BRITANNIA!" a voice Cornelia hadn't heard for months echoed from within the object. It appeared to be a black sphere with five large red spikes along its side, two on its upper sides, two on its lower sides, and one at the very bottom. There also, much to the women's horror, a human, or at least, it looked human, hooked into it as his face was shown from the open cockpit.

"What is this? Black Knights?! Dissenters?!" the cyborg asked eagerly, madness saturated in his tone, "Oh what luck, what fate! What fortune for me!"

"Who the hell is…?" Nonette questioned before Guilford and Darlton finally caught up to the two.

"It can't be…!" Guilford gasped, dread curling in his gut.

"Jeremiah Gottwald! Is that you in there?!" Darlton cried out.

"Gottwald?" David questioned, he and other Glaston Knights flying next to them, "You mean the one involved with the Orange thing?"

That word, the O-word, seemed to trigger something in the man's head as he gasped and began to shake in rage before finally clasping his hands together, "I beseech you…! I'm begging you, please die! Die at the hands of the Siegfried!"

The spikes on the machine suddenly began to spin rapidly as Jeremiah was lowered back inside, reminiscing a top, before it charged towards Cornelia and her guard.

"Scatter!" she ordered as the Siegfried machine cut through them, hitting Edgar's Knightmare in the process.

"No! Father-!" he cried out as the Seishin cut in two.

"Edgar!" Darlton shouted, staring in horror as the Knightmare's remains dropped to the Earth.

"Darlton, focus or we'll all die as well!" Nonette focused, the Lancelot's blade shrieking against the Seigfried's spinning spikes.

"DIE!" Jeremiah howled, driving the Lancelot back further, the Gawain and remainder of the Glaston knights racing after them.

"Dammit!" Kallen cursed as the Ro-Beast dodged yet another blast from Aka. Barely any of Voltron's attacks were landing, and when they did, it barely seemed to make a dent. And it was likely only due to the Voltron Lions' superior armor and unique alloy that they hadn't been torn apart as scrap metal already.

Lelouch grunted as they blocked yet another assault from the monster's claws. He couldn't understand why it was so hard to defeat this  Ro-Beast. This wasn't like with Myzak, where it was their first time fighting one of these creations, so how come none of their attacks were working?!

'We don't have time for this…' Lelouch thought. They had to take out that flagship. The sooner they did, the more time they could buy before possible Galran reinforcements arrived. But if Voltron couldn't get there, he could only think of one other squad that could do it.

"Tohdoh! Tohdoh, do you read me?" Lelouch exclaimed, hoping he didn't sound too desperate on his end.

"I read you, Zero. What is it?" came the reply.

Mentally sighing, Lelouch continued, "My team is still preoccupied with this monster! Your group will have to go after the flagship! Destroy it, and the battle will turn in our favor once more!"

  "Understood. Squad enroute now!"

Down on the battlefield, Lelouch could barely see six large Seishins making a beeline towards the Galra's flagship, no doubt Tohdoh, Sayoko in the Guren, and the rest of the Holy Swords.

"Thank you, Tohdoh…" he muttered under his breath, "Good luck…"

"Commander! We have six confirmed enemies, making a direct course towards us."

"Blow them out of the sky," Corza ordered calmly before scoffing, "Did they really think a direct attack wouldn't go unnoticed by us?"

"Sir! These machines are different! Whoever's piloting them are maneuvering them much more expertly!"

Corza raised an intrigued eyebrow. It took skill for any enemies to get close to a flagship like this. Normally, they would be shot down before they could get within ten yards of the vessel.

"Pull an image up," she requested with narrowed eyes.

In front of her, a camera of the carnage outside blinked into focus. Her eyebrows rose more at these machines' unique designs. The captain below wasn't wrong that they were being piloted differently, not to mention they looked different, especially the sleek red one with the silver claw.

"Hmm, a challenge it seems?" she queried before grinning, "Excellent! Concentrate fire on those ships. Blast them away!"

"Yes, commander!" the captain saluted as he and the droids typed into their stations.

Several more compartments opened up on the surface of the flagship, revealing cannons and other torrents, all aimed at the incoming enemies. To their surprise, though, in a coordinated counterattack, involving several fancy, advanced looking spins and maneuvers, slicing through several cannons with their swords and the red one's class blowing up many more with its silver claw.

Corza felt an emotion she hadn't in a while. Frustration. Sure, she got annoyed with stubborn enemies at times, but frustration was an emotion she had only last experienced back in her barricade days, apprenticing under Warlord Ranvag himself. But, she had learned to squash that weakness and push forward. Now she was one of his most trusted comrades and commanders of the empire, one whom he personally recommended to lead this attack. And she would not fail him. Not now!

"Sir!" the captain addressed again, "The large black one appears to be leading the group."

Finally, some intel she could work with! "Concentrate fire on that vessel! The others will be easy pickings with their cornerstone dead!"

"Vrepit sa!" the captain exclaimed, slamming a fist into the control pad.

"Target the engines next!" Tohdoh ordered, "Get this ship to the ground!"

"Yes, sir!" the five other Knightmares all replied in near unison. Then Chiba's voice cried out a split second later.

  "Colonel, look out!"

Almost like a combined attack, three cannons they had yet to destroy all fired at Tohdoh's Seishin at once. He managed to dodge two shots, but the third managed to hit one of his Knightmare's jets.

  "Colonel Tohdoh!"

  "Sir!"

"I'm alright!" Tohdoh barked as he struggled to regain control, "Focus on the engines!"

"And you, Colonel? " Senba queried hesitantly.

Tohdoh glared at the windows that he assumed likely led to the bridge of the ship, "I'm cutting off the head."

Without another word, Tohdoh zeroed in on the windows and made a beeline for them, slamming the Knightmare's rockets as hard as possible.

With a ripping crash, the Seishin barrelled through the bridge's window. The droids and the captain at the front didn't have time to take cover as the machine slammed into them, crushing them dead against the opposite wall. Anything that remained of the bridge's controls was nothing but sparking wires and scattered infinitesimal crystals.

With a snap, Tohdoh's own cockpit hatch popped open, and miraculously, minus a small cut above his left eye, he was unhurt, his armor and suit having protected him from most of the impact.

He glanced around and surveyed the damage, eyes narrowing on the Galra captain's corpse against the far wall, purple blood splattered from the impact, golden eyes wide and staring.

It was only the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end that warned him to draw his katana, just in time to catch the edge of another blade that had been aiming for his head. He grunted from the force of the blow, and his eyes narrowed at the surviving Galra towering above him.

"Gutsy move, pest," the Galran, female from her voice, commented, teeth bared and Tohdoh honestly couldn't tell if she was grinning or sneering, "I've seen very few in the universe brave enough to charge headfirst into the Snarflax den! Even fewer to survive it!"

Tohdoh said nothing, simply shoving back against his opponent's blade enough for him to roll out of the way and create some distance between them.

He held his katana steadily at the ready.

The Galra's lips curled, eyes shining with excitement. She had heard about the Champion's feats in the rings of Nilog. She had never been able to witness a match herself, but from what she'd seen on recorded footage, though inexperienced, the boy had spirit. Had they kept him longer, he would have made a formidable warrior.

But this human in front of her. This one was already a warrior. She could tell from the way he stood, the way his eyes took everything in, all while keeping an eye on her at the same time, the steady grip of the skinny blade in his hands. There was barely any tremble in the handle.

This was a human that was ready to fight her until one or the other remained standing.

Well, she licked her lips, this would be fun.

Voltron swerved to the right as they barely avoided the Ro-Beast's claws once more. Due to how few attacks were landing, they focused on taking the fight more into Earth's atmosphere, away from the main battle. The fewer people who got in the way, the better.

"What the heck is going on?!" Milly shouted, "It's like it knows what moves we'll make before  we  do!"

"Maybe it can see the future or something?" Rai suggested.

"Maybe its main function is learning? Like that one robot from that cartoon? The one with the family of superheroes?" Rivalz queried as they ducked under another clawed frontal assault.

"This isn't a movie, Rivalz!" Kallen exclaimed.

"What, it's a suggestion!" he yelped back.

Shirley remained mostly silent through, a feeling of dread climbing up her gut and to her throat. She struggled not to vomit from the sheer stress of the situation alone. Every instinct in her being told her that she  knew  who this Ro-Beast was, or at least who it was based on.

"Mao…" Shirley whispered abruptly.

"What-Shirley, what did you say?!" Suzaku exclaimed, horror in his voice.

"I…  Guys, I think that's Mao!" Shirley finally blurts out, fearful tears in her eyes.

"What?!" Rai exclaimed, voicing everyone's thoughts, and Voltron faltered, their left side being side-swiped by the claws.

"Hold on, that can't be possible! Mao's dead… right?" Milly asked though she sounded unsure as well.

Narrowing her eyes, Kallen's eye flashed with Geass, and she glared at the Ro-Beast still trying to slice Voltron to ribbons.

She nearly choked from shocked terror at the dreadfully familiar energy she picked up from in the Ro-Beast.

"I don't believe it... she's right! That  IS  Mao!" Kallen confirmed, barely keeping the tremor out of her voice.

This time, the shock of the team distracted them enough for Mao's Ro-Beast to charge and grab them by the shoulders, flipping them over and throwing them hard through the sky, flipping around multiple times as they went.

Shirley and Rivalz eventually managed to regain control of the leg rockets, stopping their loopty loops, only for Rai to have to block another swipe as Mao had followed close behind.

"Okay, how many times do we have to kill this bastard?!" Kallen screamed, slamming Aka's controls, trying to shoot Mao out. Once again, though, he blocked the attack.

"I don't get it!" Rivalz shouted, "How is this even possible?! Shirley got him! We saw her shoot him!"

Had it been under normal circumstances, Rivalz would have received a hard head bonk from Milly for his insensitivity, but it was only because everyone was thinking the exact same thing that silenced any reprimand.

"Haggar must have done something! Remember, she turned Myzak into that first Ro-Beast we fought!" Rai said, "The other two must have been similar. She's somehow creating monsters from living things!"

"There's something else too," Suzaku said, "Remember when Mao broke into the Castleship that one time? His Geass was different, and he kept saying that someone had given him a gift or something, but he wouldn't tell us who. My guess is that Haggar's the one that gave Mao that Black Geass we saw, enhanced it and twisted it somehow. I mean, we all suspected that she gave Zarkon his, right?"

"And if she could enhance his Geass before, she's likely done so again with this monster as well," Lelouch deduced with narrowed eyes.

"So, what does that mean then?" Milly asked as Voltron spun out of the way in the nick of time to avoid a collision, but it didn't stop one of Mao's claws from scraping against Voltron's armored chest.

"Best guess? Mao's original Geass allowed him to read the minds and even subconsciousness of people if he concentrated on a particular target," Lelouch explained, "If Haggar managed to improve upon that, then it's likely he's not just reading minds now. Instead, since Voltron is all of our subconscious thoughts as one, he can likely read not only our minds but that subconscious as well. It's how he's been able to avoid most of our attacks up until now! He can analyze, predict and counter every move we throw at him!"

"Okay, but he can only read our minds if we're in close enough range, right?" Rivalz reminded, "So if we move out of it and shoot him from far away, we should get him, right?"

"Even if that's the case, Rivalz, you think Mao's going to even give us the chance to try that anyway?!" Kallen snapped in frustration.

"Still, he's right. The range is likely larger and stronger, but it may be our only chance!" Suzaku argued.

The question was, how?

Allura felt her blood run cold as she and Coran listened in terrified silence to the reveal of this latest Ro-Beast's identity. When she heard Mao's name, a haunting feeling of terror ran through the princess's body. Mao was likely the only other person in the universe that genuinely scared her, so to hear that he was alive, and as that monster, it made her, she was ashamed to admit, selfishly glad that she wasn't one of the ones fighting him in Voltron.

The shrill sound of alarms blaring on the bridge shook Allura from her stupor. She heard Coran gasp in confusion as the tone of the alarms indicated that there was an intruder in the castle. But that shouldn't be possible. All of the castle's shields were still up, despite suffering severe damage from the surrounding Galra forces. So how on Earth had someone…?

"Princess! Here!" Coran exclaimed, pulling up a screen, "He's heading for the cryo-bay!"

Allura narrowed her eyes at the unfamiliar figure. It didn't look like a Galra or one of Haggar's druid servants, so who was that?

But then hear thoughts screeched to a halt when she finally processed what Coran said.

The intruder was heading for the cryo-bay. Where Nunnally was!

"Coran, take charge of the bridge!" she ordered as she spun around and raced from the room, "I'll handle this myself!"

Euphemia stared blankly down at the small bowl of broth that had been placed in her lap. She felt completely, utterly lost, her mind still racing through the events that happened just over twenty-four Earth hours prior. The terror of hearing her Father's announcement, then feeling absolute agony in her chest before everything just snapped to black. She vaguely remembered Suzaku's cry of anguish and her sister screaming her name. Then when she next became coherent, she felt cold, then the feeling of falling before warm, if slightly scratchy blankets encompassed her naked body.

Those same blankets were still draped around her shoulders, with only a thin nightgown Nunnally had given her to cover her modesty. Her dress apparently had disintegrated while she had been asleep in that strange pod, but she honestly couldn't care less about that right now.

"Euphie…?" Nunnally asked hesitantly. Almost on instinct, Euphemia's eyes glanced up, meeting the soft lavender of her younger sister's. "You know what happened down there… it wasn't your fault, okay? You know that, right?"

Logically, Euphemia knew Nunnally was right, but she couldn't help the crushing guilt that still stirred in her.

"I can hear your thoughts from here," C.C. said from the other end of the room, "But last I checked, Princess, you weren't the one that gave the order to slaughter the Japanese attending the zone. I highly doubt even they will blame you for this. But you won't find out if you're too weak even to stand."

Euphie cringed a little, still a little put off by C.C.'s blunt tone, but she could sense the concern in it as well. Turning back to the bowl, she finally took a tentative sip. She didn't know what it was, but the taste was alright.

"Well… this is a surprise to see you alive, Euphemia."

She heard Nunnally gasp and practically the blur that was C.C. as she moved to stand between them and whoever had entered the room. Whoever it was, they sounded young, but… something felt off about his tone that made the hairs on Euphemia's neck stand on end.

"What…?! How are you standing, Nunnally?!" the person (boy?) demanded furiously, "The sight I can understand a little. Charles was always too soft using his Geass on anyone related to that  woman, but your legs should have had no hope of recovery!"

"V.V., how did you get here?!" C.C. demanded, and Nunnally gasped, staring at the small boy at the door.

V.V.?  That was her uncle? The one Lelouch had told her about?

"Oh, what's this?" V.V. raised an amused eyebrow, glancing between the two princesses and C.C., a hand in his pocket, "C.C., are you actually caring about someone for once? I must say, this is a first even for you."

"I won't let you touch them, Victor!" C.C. exclaimed, reaching behind her back for her gun.

"Too slow," V.V. smirked as he pulled a tiny object from his pocket and flicked it across the room.

C.C. grunted as the small marble-like object struck her in the forehead, then gasped before collapsing to the floor, eyes wide and body twitching like she was having a fit before going completely still.

"C.C.!" Nunnally cried in horror, Euphemia gasping as well, her hands flying to her mouth. The younger princess then glared up at her uncle, "What did you do?!"

"I don't have to tell you," V.V. sneered, then pulling out a gun of his own and pointing it at the two girls. "It's not like you'll live long enough to find out anyway. True, Charles wanted you alive, Nunnally, but I think ending you would be more effective. Your brother has thrown enough wrenches into our plans already, destroying years of work that we have to practically start all over again. But if his reason for fighting at all is long gone, well that should solve the problem itself."

Before V.V. could continue his gloating, the gun was suddenly smacked from his hand from behind, and the next thing he knew, V.V. found himself slammed against a wall, an arm pressed tightly to his throat.

"Who are you? How did you get in my castle?!" Allura demanded, her battle staff clutched tightly in her hands while pinning V.V. against the wall with the other, applying far more force than necessary with her Altean strength.

"Allura!" Nunnally gasped from behind, still kneeling by C.C.'s prone form.

"Nunnally, are you alright? Euphemia, I'm pleased to see you are recovered," Allura addressed the two with a sigh of relief.

"What's this…?" V.V. choked out a laugh, "More 'friends' come to save you, Nunnally, like always?"

"You be silent!" Allura growled, pushing her arm in further and the immortal choked. "Nunnally, do you know him?"

"Well… sort of? I heard brother and C.C. talk about him. He's our uncle, V.V." Nunnally answered shakily.

"What… uncle?" Euphemia gasped, staring at the small 'boy' in horrified confusion.

Allura, on the other hand, felt her temper flare as she turned back with a growl to the man, "The same V.V. of that vile man who started this attack?"

V.V. gagged out a laugh, "You call Charles vile? I'm not the filthy alien trying to destroy all our hard work! If you just stayed up in space and out of our way, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"I'm not the one that sold his own people to a universal tyrant!" Allura spat back, "And to think, Voltron was willing to offer a truce even when you clearly didn't deserve one!"

"Oh, go back to your planet and cry your eyes out there!" V.V. barked through clenched teeth before smiling sadistically, "Oh wait, that's right. You don't have a planet anymore, do you? Zarkon blew it up with the rest of your people."

Allura's eyes went wide before becoming slits, "Don't you  dare  talk about Altea that way!"

V.V.'s hand suddenly seized Allura's wrist as he grinned madly. Much like C.C., Allura stiffened before screaming, losing her grip on V.V. and clutching her head. All around her, flames consumed Altea's surface. Galra crafts rained from the sky. Queen Melanor's head stood mounted on a pike as the royal palace was bathed in blood.

V.V. was too entranced with glee at Allura's pain that he didn't notice Nunnally lunge at him before he was already on the ground.

Allura gasped once more before her eyes rolled back to her head, and she fell back, Euphemia only able to just catch her before she could hit the ground.

Now V.V. was staring into a pair of eyes he had only seen in one other, and his blood boiled as Nunnally desperately attempted to pin him down.

"Damn you, Marianne! Damn you and your bitch of a spawn!" he screamed, rage driving his arms as they threw Nunnally off, "They don't deserve what Charles has planned for them! None of them do! They… they don't even deserve to live!"

Eyes mad with hatred, V.V. reached for the gun he dropped, aiming it Nunnally. He'd kill her first, then deal with the other three…

  *BANG*

Nunnally flinched, covering her face at the sound, but then slowly lowered them, eyes widening in horror at the bullet hole in the middle of V.V.'s head.

With a gurgle, the immortal collapsed, revealing his assailant at the door behind him, their own gun still smoking in their hands.

"Chigusa?!" Nunnally gasped in shock as Euphemia helped a shaky Allura to her feet, still clutching her head with one hand as she eyed the woman warily.

"Not quite," she responded in a clipped tone, "My name is Villetta Nu, and I'm a knight of Britannia."

At this declaration, Allura scrambled to regain her footing to defend Nunnally and Euphemia once more, as well as C.C., who still laid unconscious on the floor. But to their surprise, Villetta holstered her gun and dropped to one knee, head bowed.

"I'm on your side."

Meanwhile, the sky lit up red as Cornelia fired the Gawain's hydron cannons at the Siegfried, Nonette doing the same with the Lancelot's VARIS rifle. However, thanks to Haggar's constant experiments and modifications, Jeremiah's cyborg body could control the machine with ease while directly connected to the systems. The speed the Siegfried spun seemed to make almost a barrier, the spikes able to repel or block any Knightmare attack easily. Not to mention that he wasn't letting up on his own charge. With the demise of Edgar, the remaining Glaston Knights made avoiding the Seigfried's blades their top priority, but that also prevented them from attacking back as well.

"If I had doubts about this being alien tech before, I don't know!" David stated.

"I highly doubt even his Majesty's top scientists could have made something destructive without third-party assistance," Darlton commented as well.

"How can we bring down something like this?! It could completely wipe out the rest of our troops!" Guilford gasped.

Cornelia grit her teeth as he was right. This machine had a formidable offense, its spikes, and a nearly perfect defense. But she knew that all weapons had some weak point somewhere. The problem was whether or not they could hold it off long enough to figure it out.

The answer came when Lloyd, Cecile, and Rakshata contacted the Lancelot.

"Lady Enneagram, do you read us?"  Cecile exclaimed anxiously.

"I hear you. What is it?" Nonette said, tone demanding as she flipped over the Seigfried once more.

  "We've analyzed the structure of that machine on the castle's computers. And… I think we may know how you can defeat it."

Nonette nearly stopped midair in shock, "Well, what is it?"

"It's actually a rather simple flaw. So simple and obvious that many would overlook it at first glance,"  Lloyd explained cryptically.

"I don't have time for your riddles, Asplund!" Nonette growled, "Just tell me already!"

"What Pudding Boy is meaning to say,"  Rakshata interrupted before Lloyd could continue (this resulted in an exaggerated pout onboard the ship), "Is that the Seigfried's spikes can be stopped and held in place, that will easily disable its pesky defense… There is one small problem, though…"

"One of us, likely in a suicidal maneuver, will have to fly head-on into the machine and hold the spikes down manually," Nonette realized.

"Precisely, hence my previous statement, before  someone  interrupted me, about it being so obvious, yet one that most won't so much as consider," Lloyd added.

"Nelly, did you get all of that?" Nonette asked through her comm.

"I heard everything, Nonette," Cornelia responded, "I'll do it. This Knightmare is large enough to likely survive the impact-"

"Princess, no!" Guilford shouted almost instinctively, "I-Your people still need you! They need you to lead them!"

"And do you simply expect me to pointlessly sacrifice my own men, Guilford?!" Cornelia fired back, "Chawla and Asplund said so themselves; anyone else who tries would be suicidal!"

"...Not everyone," Nonette muttered before slamming down on the Lancelot's controls, barrelling towards the Siegfried.

"Nonette!" Cornelia screamed.

"Lady Enneagram!" Claude shouted.

The remainder of the squad could only watch in horror as the Lancelot slammed head-on into the middle of the Siegfried, its arms and legs spread eagle against the spikes, the Lancelot's shields fizzling at the strain of taking most of the damage.

Nonette grunted in pain as small electric sparks erupted from the systems, warning lights flashing wildly on the screens in front.

"What?!" Jeremiah exclaimed, also frozen in brief surprise at such a move.

"Nelly! Do it now!" Nonette screamed, using the last of the Lancelot's energy filter to twist around so the Seigfried faced the Gawain.

"Nonette…!" Cornelia gasped, horrified that her friend was about to commit this act.

"Just do it! I'll be fine!" Nonette shouted again, "But you have to do it now! You won't get another chance!"

Feeling tears in her eyes, Cornelia screamed as she slammed down on the hadron cannon's controls.

"What?! You little-"

Jeremiah never finished his sentence as the hadron cannons hit the Seigfried head on. The Seigrfried groaned and its outer shell cracked before it finally exploded, detaching from the Lancelot as it spiraled to the ground, crashing into the debris below.

Nonette exhaled in relief, a small stream of blood dripping from her nose. The Lancelot's energy filter lasted just long enough to block most of the Gawain's hadron cannon attack.

Unfortunately, with the energy depleted, the Lancelot could no longer remain airborne either and the white Knightmare soon followed the Seigfried to the ground, landing roughly by a demolished building.

"Nonette!" Cornelia screamed desperately, "Nonette, answer me, dammit!"

"...I'm okay, Nelly," she panted through the comm, "Sorry, I won't be much help anymore…"

Cornelia breathed a sigh of relief that at least her childhood friend was alive. She hadn't killed her.

"Just stay there for now, Nonette," Cornelia ordered, "We'll send someone to retrieve you soon!"

Tohdoh grunted as he was kicked back down the hall, catching himself as he backflipped to his feet, catching the edges of her double blades with his katana. So far, any Galra or sentries that they encountered were ordered away by Corza, always barking that he was her opponent, and if they held any respect for her, they would leave them be. He could see why she was so confident. She held the clear advantage in strength, so Tohdoh knew he had to be smart about where he landed his blows.

Throughout most of their duel, she had never lost the bloodthirsty, predatory grin on her face. The only time she lost it was when a lower-ranked Galra attempted to assist, trying to shoot Tohdoh down one of the halls. She had immediately beheaded him, calling him a disgrace. From that expression alone, Tohdoh saw the type of creature she was. She was one that took joy in beating down her opponents, took pleasure in hearing their screams of agony.

As a samurai, bound by the honor of his people and ancestors, nothing disgusted Tohdoh more. And if he had to die to put this monster down, so be it.

With a roar, he pushed the blades away, swinging the katana viciously at her midsection, but she expertly blocked it, making a swing of her own at his head, which he ducked under before using his left foot to kick one sword out of her hand, and it clattered down the hall.

Corza just laughed before whipping out a dagger she kept hidden in her armor. Tohdoh barely managed to jump back but still felt a sting across his cheek where the blade barely sliced his face. The Galran commander took advantage of his surprise to send a series of jabs towards Tohdoh, all of which he managed to dodge or block.

After taking one of the hits against his wrist, the armor of his suit absorbing the blow, he launched himself into the air, spinning midair before slicing downward. Corza grunted as the blow propelled her forward, but Tohdoh's eyes widened as her other sword managed to block the blow as well.

Tohdoh quickly used this moment to gain a little distance between the two, katana once more poised at the ready.

Corza slowly turned to face him again.

"Well, well, I'll admit you've got spirit, human," she smirked, "I may even spare you. You'd draw quite the crowd in the rings. Just surrender now, and I'll be sure you're taken good care of."

"Sorry, not interested," he replied in a clipped tone.

"Hmph, pity," she sighed in faux-sorrow before the grin returned, "But I wasn't exactly asking. I do enjoy my prey more when I have to draw the squealing out."

With that, their duel continued. Corza continued to push Tohdoh down the hall until they came to a cargo bay, several Galra fighters still stationary but ready to launch.

At one point, Corza managed to sweep Tohdoh's feet out from under him, pinning him down, foot firmly on his sternum.

"Concede, or die," she hissed, pressing down hard. The colonel felt his ribs cracking from the force, and he cried out in pain.

But the pain soon ceased when the ship suddenly shuddered and Corza's foot shifted off his chest. Despite the pain from what he knew were cracked and possibly broken ribs, he couldn't help the smirk that spread across his own face.

Outside the ship, the Guren shot away as the Radiant Surger's energy destroyed the last of the rear engines. The flagship was officially without any mobility and almost immediately began to lose altitude.

"The colonel's still inside!" Asahina exclaimed, "We need to help him!"

"I'm on it!" Chiba shouted, making a beeline for the open cargo bay, praying the colonel managed to make it there.

Tohdoh didn't waste the precious moment the distraction bought him. Without hesitation, he leaped back to his feet and plunged his katana into Corza's chest, the Galra still off-balanced from the attack outside, losing grip of her weapons. The commander only gasped as her eyes widened in disbelief but then shrieked in fury, her hand striking out. Tohdoh gasped in pain as Corza's sharp claws swiped across his left eye. Clutching it with one hand, Tohdoh stumbled backward, his katana still firmly in his other grip.

With barely a gurgle, Corza collapsed to her knees and sunk forward, falling forward, her face hitting the floor, dead. Only then did Tohdoh finally sag, catching himself on his katana, following to one knee in exhaustion.

"Colonel!" Chiba cried out, her Knightmare skidding to a stop in the bay, the ship still vibrating as it fell apart in its descent.

"Chiba…" Tohdoh whispered as she hauled one of his arms over her shoulder.

"Come on, this battle's not over yet!" she said, pulling him to his feet.

"Right…" he sighed but gratefully climbed into the Seishin with his subordinate. The Knightmare streaked out of the flagship only ticks before it crashed to the Earth.

No one missed the spectacle of the flagship's destruction. First, the engines went up in flames, and the fires quickly spread to the rest of the vessel. As Tohdoh's team flew away, their job done, the flagship began to nosedive before practically imploding as it hit the ground below.

Roars of victory could be heard from all units of the Black Knight's alliance. The Britannian-Galra alliance faltered as the rebels began to swarm in.

"Push them back!" Ohgi shouted from the ground, "Victory is nearly ours!"

"Yeah! Let's squash these guys!" Tamaki howled, firing a missile from his Knightmare at a group of scattered Britannian troops, "This is our planet! Not yours, you slimeballs!"

While the ground forces were experiencing the first taste of victory, Voltron's struggle was another story. The information of knowing it was Mao did little to help their situation. No matter what kind of attacks they threw at the Ro-Beast, he was able to either counter, block, or dodge every single one. Even when they attempted long-range attacks, they either weren't far enough, or the attacks were large enough that Mao could see them coming even without reading their thoughts. They had even briefly disbanded Voltron, thinking they could confuse Mao with separate thoughts instead of one, but Mao just started attacking them one by one. Suzaku, in particular, took some heavy hits when Yoru suddenly froze mid-flight again. The Paladins were barely able to rejoin once more after that disaster.

"This isn't working…" Lelouch hissed,  '...and I don't know what else to try!'  went unsaid.

"We can't just give up!" Rivalz shouted, "There's-there's got to be  something!"

Shirley suddenly gasped, Zinnia's purr breaking through the haze of the battle.

"What…?" she whispered.

"Shirley?!" Lelouch exclaimed, grunting as Voltron ducked another attack once more.

"Lelouch… we need to get away from Mao! As far away as we possibly can!"

"But haven't we been trying that already?" Kallen asked.

"Just trust me! I have a plan, or Zinnia does anyway!" the Orange Paladin insisted.

"...Alright, I'll trust you," Lelouch relented, "Rivalz, help her!"

"Um, right!" the Blue Paladin stuttered before slamming down on the rockets with Shirley.

Voltron suddenly shot off, leaving the battle at high speed, one that Mao couldn't keep up with.

"Paladins! Where are you going?!" Coran gasped, alarmed by the sudden change in direction.

"Honestly, Coran, we're not sure ourselves!" Milly admitted, "But Shirley said she had an idea to take out Mao! You're just going to have to trust us, here!"

"...Very well,"  Coran conceded,  "Good luck, Paladins, be careful!"

By the time Voltron stopped, they had made it fairly far out to sea, still high above Earth's surface.

"Okay, I think we're far enough!" Shirley said.

"It's certainly farther than any other distance we've tried," Rai reported, "According to C.C., Mao's original range was about five hundred meters. We're well over a thousand kilometers away now. We should be well out of range."

"Okay… okay," Shirley gasped before swallowing, "...I've got this…"

Though her heart was still hammering in her chest, Shirley took several deep breaths and, following Zinnia's directions, plugged her Bayard into its port. In the process of the bow appearing once more, Shirley's Geass appeared in her eye.

The others felt it just moments after Shirley did. Whatever was happening, whatever this new connection was that the Orange Lion and its Paladin were forging, they could feel it pulsing within the entire bond, with the two of them at the epicenter.

"Target… locked on," Shirley said calmly as Voltron drew the arrow back. Though it was not visible by the naked eye, Voltron's systems zeroed in on a far-off figure whose head was spinning frantically in every direction, having lost their target somewhere out in the sea.

'Before, I was just a normal girl, who was ignorant of everything that's been happening to this world…' Shirley thought as the arrow was pulled taut at its longest length, '...All the suffering... All the pain that so many people feel. And not just this world... but others as well. But I'm not going to cry anymore. I swear that I will protect all of you, even my friends. I know who I am... My name is Shirley Fenette, Paladin of the Orange Lion of Voltron! My aim is true! This time, I won't hesitate!'

Voltron set the arrow free.

Like a shooting star, the arrow soared across the ocean, too fast and too powerful that Mao didn't realize what was coming until it had struck deep into his chest. The Galran crystal helping to power the machine nearly shattered inside, and the Ro-Beast shrieked as its circuits shorted out and started to go haywire, limbs creaking and twisting into impossible angles.

"Go! Finish him off while he's down!" Shirley shouted.

"Suzaku, sword!" Lelouch ordered.

"Right!" the Purple Paladin exclaimed, his Bayard meeting the port once again.

With a unanimous battle cry, the Voltron Paladins raced back towards the Ro-Beast, sword poised to stab it head on.

Mao barely had time to look up, robotic eyes widening in shock before the sword met its target, piercing the same spot as the arrow and pushing back further, returning to the settlement.

Then, once on land again, with a twist of the blade, Voltron cut upward, severing the Ro-Beast's shoulder from the rest of the body. But that wasn't enough. Raising the sword over his head again, Voltron swung downward, slicing Mao cleanly in two.

The Ro-Beast's power flickered one final time before exploding, lighting up the evening sky and the battlefield.

"Yes!" Milly screamed.

"You're history!" Rai exclaimed with a triumphant grin.

"And this time, stay dead, asshole!" Kallen shouted.

"Shirley! That was awesome!" Rivalz cried, grinning madly from Polaris.

"That was definitely nuts, but it worked," Suzaku commented.

"Shirley… thank you…" Lelouch said, sagging in his seat from relief and fatigue.

Shirley just smiled, not really answering anyone, but the soothing purr Zinnia sent her way spoke all the volumes she needed. Yes, she did good. This was where she belonged, after all.

"...Coran, Cornelia, Ohgi, Tohdoh, battle report!" Lelouch finally ordered after a moment of silence.

One by one, each battle commander appeared on the screen. They all looked exhausted from the fight, a fight that they had very nearly one.

"The flagship and the fleet's commander are neutralized, Zero,"  Tohdoh reported first, Chiba next to him,  "The remaining Galra troops are scrambling to regroup. We can likely wipe out or capture the remaining ones with ease."

"That second monster that came out of that vessel is also destroyed,"  Cornelia stated,  "Nonette and the Lancelot are down, but she's alive."

"Most of Britannia's ground forces are retreating too. Without air cover from their Galra buddies, they're losing ground fast,"  Ohgi reported with a confident smile.

"Yes, according to the castle's scans, most of the remaining Galra fighters are retreating!"  Coran exclaimed,  "It seems… it seems we've won Paladins!"

The very second Coran finished speaking, Voltron suddenly shuddered, freezing in midair. A sinister purple aura washed over the juggernaut, and a malevolent presence suddenly flooded the bond, nearly choking the Paladins with fear and panic.

Lelouch especially felt the crushing weight, gasping as he hunched over like something heavy had suddenly been thrust upon his back.

"Paladins!" they heard Coran gasp.

"Lelouch!"  Cornelia cried,  "Lelouch, what's wrong?!"

"What's going on with you guys?!" Ohgi exclaimed, eyes wide.

Several more voices joined the others, Nonette, Tohdoh, Guilford, and many others calling out, confused at what was happening to Voltron and afraid for the Paladins' sake.

"What…?" Rivalz gasped out.

"Something's… tearing us apart!" Rai realized.

"It's like what happened at…!" Shirley gasped, eyes widening.

"At the Galra base…" Kallen finished with a whisper, her mind drawing the same conclusion, and terror coursed down her spine.

"Then that means…" Suzaku bit out, eyes trailing to the sky, "Lelouch!"

Lelouch's eyes also were drawn to the sky, his blood running cold and body petrified as the familiarity of this presence finally became clear. Zen's own cries of terror only confirmed it further as a large, colossus shape practically materialized above the battlefield.

"Zarkon…!"

As the Galra's HQ exited its jump to hover above the surface of the planet, Zarkon reached out towards the ancient bond that he knew was there and would always be there no matter how his enemies tried to separate them. The druids' magic coursed through his being as his black Geass drilled black holes into his eyes.

The Black Lion would not get away this time.

"...What?!" Ohgi whispered from the ground as the massive alien ship, over a hundred times  bigger than the flagship they had originally destroyed, slowly descended through the clouds. Everything and everyone on the battlefield froze, Black Knights and Britannian defectors alike.

"...This isn't happening, this isn't happening, this is  not happening…" Tamaki chanted, nearly hysterical as he felt tears form in his eyes from the terror in his chest.

Then, much to their further horror, with screams of agony, the Voltron burst apart, the Lions all blasting away from one another, the Black Lion falling limp and landing with a heavy crash to the ground.

"LELOUCH!" both Kallen and Cornelia shouted in unison.

No response came as Lelouch lay unconscious in Zen's cockpit, the sheer force of Zarkon's twisted Geass too much for him to bear.

Then, like an angry cloud of hornets, hundreds of thousands of Galra fighters swarmed out of the Galra ship, descending on the weakened Voltron forces below.

"Damn!" Kallen screamed, regaining control of Aka and righting herself in the air again. "All Black Knights! Retreat! Get back to the castle  now!"

  "What?! But Kallen-"

"Now, Ohgi!" Kallen barked desperately, "Zarkon is  here! We can't fight him, he'll wipe us out!"

"Kallen, what about Lelouch?!" Rivalz exclaimed in utter panic.

The red streak of the Guren passing by, followed by the Gawain's black form, answered that question.

"He'll be fine. His sis and Sayoko have got him!" Kallen said, "Quick, we need to lay down covering fire!"

"Sh-she's right! Come on!" Shirley shouted, already turning Zinnia towards a group of defectors struggling to get through a Galran brigade.

Zarkon's face remained impassive as he stepped off his fortress's platform, descending towards the Earth, determined to end this once and for all.

The Black Lion would be his once again.

Landing on the planet's surface, it wasn't hard to find the Black Lion. It had landed in a clear area of the battlefield, lying on its side, eyes dark and unresponsive. It was very likely that her new 'Paladin' was still inside. He highly doubted the boy had fled, even if it would have spared him.

He had barely taken a step, though, when a surge of red energy ran across his path.

Narrowing his eyes, he looked up only to see the large black bi-pedal machine, along with the red one with the silver arm and several other smaller gray ones surrounding him.

"Not one step further!" a feminine voice ordered from the large black one, two large cannons aimed at him from its back. Similar weapons are also leveled at him from the others.

Zarkon nearly scoffed. Nothing more than another pesky obstacle.

"Stand aside."

The red machine's arm tensed back, "Never…" another woman's voice practically spat.

The two parties stood still for several moments.

Zarkon then drew his Bayard, a large violet blade materialized.

"Then die."

In the blink of an eye, Zarkon suddenly flickered from being in front of them to standing crouched behind Darlton's Seishin.

"Wha-" the knight couldn't even finish the word before the Knightmare split in two and exploded.

"Sir Darlton!" Guilford shouted before Zarkon turned around almost casually, Bayard poised to strike once again.

Unlike before, with only a single flagship and the original invading fleet to fight, the massive flood of reinforcements that rained down on the city began picking off the Black Knight forces little by little. Even with the remaining Paladins providing cover, many valiant men and women fell, shot down by the relentless Galra surge.

With Milly on her trail, Kallen headed immediately to Ohgi's location, knowing most of his troops consisted of ground fighters. Milly quickly shot a series of flash bombs at the Galra fighters above them, giving the girls barely enough time for Ohgi and his surviving squads to load onto the two Lions, leaving any other weapons behind.

Rivalz and Shirley found themselves in similar situations, the sky lighting up with explosions of fire as the two pushed the fighters away from their allies in the sky and on the ground.

Rai made a beeline for Nonette's downed Lancelot, the knight only having the strength to crawl from the wreckage and lay next to it, barely remaining conscious. Dried blood still stained her nose, and her left arm was bent at an awkward angle, but she was alive.

Suzaku felt his blood run cold as he saw a massive squadron heading straight for Tohdoh's team, and he propelled Yoru quickly to intercept.

"Out of the way!" he roared, blasting into the swarm, destroying twenty of them alone with a single blast. Yoru then leaped back, her jaw opening wide, her blackhole suction pulling against several more.

"Sensei! Go!" he shouted, straining from the effort of the attack.

Despite most of the fighters getting caught in the suction, several more still fought their way around or out of it, making a head charge towards the group.

"There's still too many!" Asahina gasped, his Seishin getting battered by a volley of lasers as he sliced through two with his sword.

"Stay focused!" Tohdoh ordered with Chiba firing her gun at several fighters.

Suzaku growled, quickly summoning the Lion's jawblade, and while the fighters were disoriented, sliced through several more.

Unfortunately, despite these efforts, more simply seemed to keep coming. Like a hydra when its head was severed, more simply replaced the ship that was downed.

And one soldier knew it was not time for his commanding officer to die just yet.

"Colonel…" Urabe said solemnly as he calmly typed a code into the Seishin's keypad, "It's been an honor to fight beside you. And Suzaku… be a good Paladin."

"What?" Suzaku's eyes widened, a vague image of a knightmare in this very position meeting its end, along with the pilot inside, "Urabe,  no!"

The Seishin charged forward, completely blowing a path through the fighters, before exploding in an inferno in the center of the swarm.

Suzaku looked on in horror, the reality of what he saw sinking in, the guilt of not being able to save someone again resurfacing.

"Suzaku!" Senba shouted, shaking him back to reality, "We got to go!"

"Urabe's sacrifice will be mourned, Suzaku," Tohdoh said, though only Chiba saw how stiff the Colonel's face became, "but it will mean nothing if we all die…"

"...Right," the Purple Paladin sighed before following after the three remaining Seishins, covering the rest of their retreat to the white castle in the sky.

David's scream of agony as his Knightmare was sliced apart filled the castle's launch bay, Rakshata, Lloyd, and Cecile watching in shocked horror as Zarkon picked off the Knightmares surrounding the Black Lion one after the other.

"He's not even in a Knightmare…" Cecile trembled, watching the footage through the Gawain's already battered systems, "And he's tearing them apart."

"At this point, it looks as though he's only toying with them," Rakshata pursed her lips, but her eyes were shaking, and she clutched her pipe tight enough her hands were turning white.

"What… What kind of monster are we even dealing with?!" Lloyd exclaimed, hands gripping his head, panicking for the first time in… he wasn't sure the last time he felt like this, and even with their own alien tech, there was likely little to nothing they could do to help in some way.

Slowly, Lelouch came back into focus as his eyes blinked open. Confused and body aching, he sat up looking around… only to stop cold at the scene he saw through his Lion's screen window.

Zarkon's Bayard, in its whip form, had grabbed a Seishin by its arm and swung it through the air before slamming it hard into a pile of debris several feet away, the Knightmare erupting into flames moments later.

"No…" he gasped, panic seizing his heart and hands shaking, "What... What are you...? Get away... You can't stop him... Just run…"

He only watched helplessly, though, as Zarkon drove his Bayard into the final Seishin's abdomen, the machine's form electrifying before the back end detached and flew away, just as this Knightmare also exploded. Zarkon then turned his attention to the larger Knightmares. The Guren's silver arm was gone, the Galra having ripped it off earlier in battle, but Zarkon shifted the Bayard to a cannon and fired at the red Knightmare, blasting it backward. Then with barely a shift in footing, changed it back into a spear and stabbed backward, catching the Gawain in the middle before swiping out, effectively cutting the Knightmare in two.

With the machines no longer threats, the Galran emperor turned his attention back to the Lion, approaching slowly like he was taking a stroll in a park.

Before Lelouch could move to try and rouse Zen again, another battle cry interrupted him. He gasped in horror as Sayoko herself charged Zarkon, leaping in front of him, kunai lashing.

Zarkon stepped back slightly but otherwise seemed unfazed. Bayard a sword again, he swung back, locking weapons with the kunoichi, but his strength easily one out, disarming her and kicking her in the air. Then the Bayard became a whip, wrapping around Sayoko's form before the ninja slammed with a shattering crash against the Earth.

"SAYOKO!" Lelouch screamed, tears in his eyes as his mother figure gasped against the ground, groaning as her hand flew to her stomach, blood quickly pooling from a slice across it.

Zarkon attempted to walk towards Zen again when a bullet suddenly bounced off the back of his armor. It didn't hurt him, but it annoyed him enough to turn to the culprit.

"Get the hell away from my brother!" Cornelia roared, her sword-rifle raised, and aimed to fire again.

Zarkon turned toward her, saying nothing as he just glared, almost daring her to challenge him.

Cornelia refused to back down and emptied the rest of her bullets against Zarkon's armor. Upon realizing she was out, she charged at him, sword held up to swing down.

She didn't see Bayard swing until her right armor was sent flying away.

Cornelia collapsed to the ground, shrieking in agony and clutching her stump as blood hemorrhaged from the severed appendage.

"NO!" Lelouch shouted, horror racing through his heart.

Cornelia grunted, shoulder still burning as Zarkon's foot smashed into her cheek.

"Pathetic…" he murmured, digging his heel against the princess's head.

Cornelia could do nothing but stare up at the monster… no, the demon that was bearing down on her, and there was nothing she could do about it. The last time she had felt so helpless was… Was when Empress Marianne had perished, and Lelouch and Nunnally were banished by their father's cruel decree.

'He tore apart our entire unit... with just a single weapon... even ripped apart Voltron... all on his own...! This... this... demon... he's not just powerful... he  IS  power...!' Cornelia thought as tears trickled down her face as a crushing sense of shame settled in her chest, 'Lelouch... is this really who you've been fighting? And I haven't done a damn thing to help you... You and your friends... have had to fight this monster all on your own... I'm so sorry…'

Lelouch, meanwhile, could only watch on, terrified and enraged all at once as he watched Zarkon torment his sister. Why? Why was he just watching? Was that all the good he could do? Why did everything seem to fall apart in his hands even when he came so close to setting things right? His body shook, unable to so much as stand, petrified of this villain and the terror he brought in his wake.

  No…

Lelouch gasped as a spark of warmth ignited in his chest, spreading outward, enveloping him like a blanket.

You are not helpless…  We  are not helpless. It is true we are no match when separate, but we are together. Let us stand, my Paladin, as one...

"What insect are you, to deny what is rightfully mine?" Zarkon intoned, pressing Cornelia's head further into the dirt, "Your nation of Britannia speaks of evolution, yet you can't even begin to understand such a concept. I have transcended the limits of space and even time, and I will do so as I shall bend this universe to my will. A bug like you can't stop me."

Zarkon however blinked in surprise as Cornelia's remaining hand grabbed hold of his ankle and tried, though in vain, to shove him off of her. Her eyes, though still red with tears, glared fiery daggers at Zarkon.

"Go... to hell... you damn monster...!" Cornelia growled, "That's my brother in there... For his sake... I'll keep fighting... I'll break myself if I have to...! Even if there's nothing left of me... I won't let you one inch further...! I'll destroy myself before I let you lay so much as a finger on him!"

Zarkon narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to reply, only to hear something approaching rapidly. Turning around, he saw Lelouch, a purple knife pointed forward, practically flying toward Zarkon.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!" Lelouch roared, his Geass shining in not one but both of his eyes. The blade in his hand suddenly fizzled, growing in length as red energy traveled down the hilt, extending it into a long, curved sword.

Zarkon's surprised stupor cost him, as the next thing he registered was a sharp jab of pain piercing his side. The conqueror roared in agony as the blade was wrenched out, and the boy ducked under him to grab hold of his sister, gathering her in his arms.

"I'm sorry…" Lelouch whispered, pulling Cornelia's remaining arm over his shoulder. Looking up, he barely spotted an injured but alive Guilford picking Sayoko up in his own arms and making brief eye-contact, headed straight for Zen's form, still lying in the dirt, but eyes bright and clearly conscious.

Zarkon snarled as he watched his enemy scurry back into the Black Lion. Once all four were safely inside, the Black Lion roared in defiance at him before leaping into the sky.

The former Paladin raised his Bayard to shoot the Lion down again, only to be pelted from all sides by the remaining Lions, none of them giving him room to make a clear shot at the Black Lion.

"Keep him pinned down!" Kallen ordered, "Don't give a chance to fight back!"

"Paladins!"  Coran exclaimed, face appearing on the screen,  "All the survivors are on board! Get out of there now!"

Without another word, the Lions all turned and zoomed back into the sky, retreating to the castle as it disappeared into the clouds once more.

Zarkon said nothing as he glared at the spot that the Lions vanished into. Once again, they had escaped, but unlike last time, his forces gained much more than what they lost this time.

"Sire…" Haggar murmured, approaching her recovering emperor from behind, as her ship landed, "I sense they are still close. You can easily track them, and our troops can wipe them out now."

"There's no need for that," Zarkon addressed.

"Sire?" Haggar queried in surprise.

"Voltron will return soon," Zarkon clarified, "We have their planet hostage now. We have nothing but time until they come for it again. And one way or another, Voltron will fall to us then…"

From aboard the craft, Charles glared daggers into the backs of the two aliens on the ground. These two thought they were foolish enough to think that? While it was true their presence would make things… difficult, their actions would be of little consequence once their plan was complete.

'Soon, Marianne…' Charles thought, 'Soon, our dream will come to fruition, and this madness will end. No force in the universe will be strong enough to stop it.'

[thenexusofsouls]

9) Which of your muses do you identify with the most? Why?

{i am the caretaker of souls} So I actually answered a very similar question a while back, so I’ll just re-tweak my answer a bit because it hasn’t changed much. Of all the muses I write, this might surprise you... XD

Welp… time to get super embarrassing, haha. Honestly the muse I identify with the most out of all the ones I have on this blog and others is… Tony Stark. Now, I am not a genius, or a billionaire. I know nothing about robotics, very little about physics, and next to nothing about nanotechnology other than what the Metal Gear Solid series taught me (I’m in environmental microbiology, so that’s a completely different field). However, at a core human level, Tony and I have several things in common. All negative, heh. I’ll share the process of how Tony became a muse for me, even though it’s sort of an embarrassing one for me, because I find it interesting on a psychological level. The majority of my muses I wanted to write either because I thought they deserved better and wanted to move beyond and improve upon what their canon material did for/with them, or because I was moved by their story, personality, or another quality they possess. But I never wanted to write Tony. Up until recently, I didn’t even like him.

So… I had never watched the Iron Man movies at first. I saw all the Avengers and Captain America movies, even Captain Marvel, a couple Thor movies, Black Panther and the Guardians of the Galaxy movies are next on my list of ones to catch up on. Anyway, I always hated Tony. I thought he was a shallow, crass, arrogant asshole who only cared about himself. I really disliked him almost to the point of hate, and to be frank, I ignored him out of dislike or lack of interest the majority of the time when watching Marvel movies. Really loving characters like Wanda and Vision from the comics and coming to love Pietro in the movies didn’t help, because there’s a lot of anti-Tony sentiment there and bad history between them, or at least misunderstanding. But then I thought okay, this is a major part of the franchise that I’m missing, and I should just watch these movies and get them over with, for the sake of being thorough and informed.

The first Iron Man was okay. Good story. Learned a lotta stuff about him I didn’t know. He was never a character I read in the comics, so I’m not familiar with him outside of MCU. Then I watched Iron Man 2 and I hated it. But Natasha was in it, so… score. Then I watched Iron Man 3… and I had exactly five panic attacks… and my perception of Tony completely changed.

I have chronic anxiety. It manifests mostly as social anxiety, a fear of loss of control, a fear of public embarrassment, mild germophobia (an interesting thing for a microbiologist to have, but hey sure why not), and something called catastrophizing, whereby I fret, worry, mull, and stress over every possible worst case scenario and poor outcome to a situation and anything even remotely bad that could happen to me in the foreseeable future. It wastes a lot of psychic energy, lemme tell you, and if it gets bad enough, I have panic attacks. Before I saw Iron Man 3, I never considered myself a person who could be triggered by anything. I’m going with the actual real definition of triggering here, as in resulting in a panic attack, flashback, or other severe psychological reaction to something. Sure, I have topics or visual imagery that upsets me. I think everyone does to some extent. But I was never triggered by anything and never thought I could be. Apparently, I was wrong.

After watching Iron Man 3 for the first time and having five panic attacks over two hours (I average maybe one or two a month... and I’m defining a panic attack as elevated heart rate, sweating, ringing ears, tingling feeling in my scalp, sometimes tears, hands shaking, feeling cold all over, teeth chattering, and a feeling of urgency or hyper awareness), I was more fascinated than upset, honestly. Panic attacks are a weird thing for me because very often I will feel rational and calm mentally but my body is going haywire, so I’m sitting here watching this movie like… why is this bothering me? I was obviously bothered, but I didn’t know why.

So I asked a friend of mine who had gone to school for psychology, and he asked well, when did they happen? I don’t remember all of them, but for example, they occurred during the scene where Tony has a nightmare and Pepper basically calls him immature and leaves him despite the fact that he’s begging her to stay. And then again when he has a panic attack while driving and has to stop driving. And then again when that little boy kept pressing him like, “Are you on medication? Should you be? Are you upset? Are you panicking? What are you going to do now?” and he just wouldn’t stop and Tony kept getting more and more panicky.

I have always been a very empathetic person, whether I wanted to be or not. I see those starving children and abused animals on those TV commercials and I cry every time. I watch movies and cry because I see other people crying. It’s terrible. Well, apparently, my friend thought that I was empathizing with Tony during moments when he was the most not okay, and that was triggering my own anxiety. When Tony would have a panic attack, I would. When he would lose control of a situation, I would panic about it myself. When the coping mechanisms and carefully constructed social façade fell and he was actually genuine with someone only to be rejected harshly, it upset me immensely and triggered another attack. It made a lot of sense to me… both my own anxiety and my empathy coming together to both sympathize with and be triggered by this character who has some very severe mental health issues.

From that moment on, I saw Tony differently. I went back and re-watched the Avengers movies, the Captain America movies… and I was able to see him in a completely different light. Looking through the lens of my own struggles with anxiety, coping mechanisms, and trying to look and act normal when I’m not okay because being perceived as not okay is like death, I suddenly realized that I understood Tony a lot more than I ever wanted to, heh. It was shortly after that that I realized he’d become a muse for me, when I couldn’t stop thinking about and analyzing and teasing apart the mess that is his psychology and making sense of it… which is easier for me to do than I ever would have expected.

I don’t have a nice neatly wrapped ending to this rant, except to say that Tony was a muse I never expected to have, but now I am so protective of him (and don’t ship him with Pepper because reasons) and I have really come to love writing him. He definitely is the muse I relate to the most on THIS blog. On ALL blogs, I think that would probably still hold, with Wanda Maximoff being a close second.

[solest]

This will be yet another mental health post, but I won't put it under a cut this time because a) I'm on mobile and don't know how to do it here and b) yes, friends might read this. I will eben tag this and try not to feel guilty for being an attention whore by doing so. This will be longer I guess, so sorry if you have to scroll through because of a).

I thought I would have stagnated. I went to a psychosomatic clinic this summer and felt like it had not helped at all. I tried to put myself out there again and had a good moment and an immediate throwback in more than one ways. But now I'm lying here, crying over videos I see or stories I read about certain mental health things and for the first time I can accept that what I read is applying to me. I knew before, but now I accept.

I have a trauma from school and bullying. It still feels weird to say it, because I always thought that Trauma had to be something big, something life threatening and not a shitty teacher and a bunch of kids you knew since you were 3, who turned on you all of a sudden. I studied social work, took child care and protection classes, but the Traumas that were discussed there were always cases of severe violence, abuse, neglect and so on. No one ever told me that things that don't seem so threatening can stick to you and change how you react for such a long time.

I've been told by three or four therapists by now that what vi experienced was trauma, but only recently therapists were using actual methods for this on me. I've been a lively and adventurous kid until second grade. I had a math teacher who was hysterical, got emotional outbursts, screamed at us and got physical. This was known, my brothers who's six years older had her as well.

I remember her screaming at us, especially me. I've never been a math genius but this woman managed that I developed a solid fear of maths. I clearly remember her pulling my hair in front of the class, because I did not know what 7x7 was. To this day, I forgot simple formulas, my mind goes blank if too much math is involved and I'm slow calculating in my head. I started to emotionally shut down and burst into tears when doing maths homework. I was 7.

When I got into third grade, we had a maths test at the very beginning of the year and I failed it miserably. I remember I was devesrated and I link the beginning of my bullying with it and just remembered why. I got an emotional outburst. I screamed, I cried I felt helpless and lost and it was too extreme a reaction to a failed test for all around me. I now know that it was a stress response to what I had experienced before and what I linked to it. I feared to get my hair pulled again, to be screamed at. But this odd behavior only made the other kids frown on me and trying to make me this upset again., which resulted in me not having friends and not understanding why people I knew since kindergarten and who were perfectly fine with me some months ago could be so cruel.

And just some weeks ago, I saw a video on how trauma comes to be. It isn't the severity, but the surprise that shake our core beliefs. I might have a genetic disposition to anxiety disorders, which might have made it "easier" to be shaken by what happened, but that's not the sole reason it affscted me like it did. Another video stated that trauma is the way we react to what happens. This firstly made me think "Oh, so you're an over dramatic bitch that was so startled by such a thing that you developed a trauma. How pathetic". How dare I think this about myself.

The way I experienced it is valid. It did what it did to me and I can't change that. Maybe I'm too sensitive, but I can't go back and tell this my sobbing 7 yo self. I lost all my adventurous attitude. I cried a lot and developed a general anxiety disorder that was only diagnosed when I was 21. I was shamed and frowned upon my overly sensitive and emotional reactions, and as the manifestations of my GAD, mostly extreme nausea. All of this only made me hate myself more and more. People said I'm weird, not normal, mentally disabled and I believed them. I tried to please them all, to just not be alone and laughed at anymore. I'm well aware that there are people with far more severe and terrible stories, but this is mine and I can't change either.

My parents tried best their could, but looking back a proper therapy as a child might have helped me. Instead I wasn't doing good in school, because stress let me break down completely. I had anxiety when doing tests and exams, a high perfectionism I'm still not able to act upon though. My parents had not been the cause for all this and tried to help as best they could, but the damage was done.

And still, parts of this personality I had before the trauma was still there, though I felt like I had to hide it, otherwise people would reject me for who I am. I missed out on much, simply because I did not grève the mental strength to try, fearing my peers would not accept me.

My self esteem is pretty low most of the times still, but somehow I'm now at a point where I can look back on this stuff and say:

"This was messed up. There's nothing you could have done better or to prevent it. The teacher should not have acted like this. Adults should have protected you and take your desperation seriously. The other kids, no matter their own awful experiences were not entitled to treat you like shit. You're réactions are not over the top, they were cries for help. You did not deserve this, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And if I could turn back in time, I would come to your aid and kick their arses."

I wasted so much time hating myself. I might not be perfect, no one is, but I'm okay. I'm enough. I don't have to be outstanding at something to be worth it, I already am, by merely existing. I'm worthy of love. I'm worthy of respect. I might have had a lot of help and I might took longer than most around ne, but I accomplished things. Things people like the math Teacher or stupid parents of stupid classmates told me I never will.

I got my high-school diploma. I studied. It took me 6 instead of 3 years for a Bachelor's degree, but I was experiencing flashback anxiety because it reminded me if school and I had to stay at home for one whole year, because I was so deep into anxiety and depression. And I made it.

I'm the first one with an academic degree in my whole family. Despite feeling like shit and thinking I can do nothing, I decided to pull through. The scores I had on papers do not define how professional I am, because I had to write them with severe panic attacks and procrastination problems.

I had long and stable relationships. I learned to drive. I figured I'm Bi, came out and nothing terrible happened. I went to Japan, with my girlfriend at the time for two months, just the two of us. I moved out and lived with another person. I quit a toxic job, because I knew it was toxic. I made friends.

Writing this down does not come easy, but I'm doing it right now. Being able to admit my successes is a huge step. I'm currently experiencing something like a second adolescents, and I think that's because I finally understand that I have to learn what I really am, what I want. I might overcompensate but that's okay. After 13 years of therapy and meds, and a noch most time without much help in this regard I'm allowed to do so.

I will not be loved by everyone and that's okay, because it means I don't have to love everyone in return. People do like me for what I am, even if it's hard to grasp. I'm not too old for things with 33 and I'm allowed to like "childish" stuff and it does not make me less of an adult. I deserve happiness and to cut toxic people out of my life. I will find a new job and it's okay if I feel like I don't know anything, I'm not dumb and I can learn quick.

I'm more than my mental illness, it does not define me completely.

[sign-from-god-complex]

cloud nine

Summary: It was the closeness Virgil liked about it—a kind of passive affection that soothed over the cracks in your soul if just for a moment, long enough for you to relax and breathe. Maybe it didn’t solve everything, maybe it didn’t solve anything, but Virgil thought it was a good place to start.

Or, in the words of my qpp, “Virgil deals with everything by taking a nap. His boyfriends use this to calm him down. He’s gay.”

Pairing: LAMP

Warnings: Description of a panic attack, anxious thoughts (and in that, a very brief mention of drugging and kidnapping) and food mention.

A/N: Logan is the little spoon and yes, I will die on that hill. Also the irony of the premise of this fic being naps and cuddling—two things I do not enjoy—is not lost on me.

AO3 Link

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

"Nap with me?"

Virgil watched Patton's head snap up from where he'd been glaring down at the kitchen counter, the remnants of his baking now mostly cleared away and cupcakes cooling by the oven. Virgil wasn't even sure he'd realised he’d been doing it—some sort of absent-minded projection of his emotions onto the cold marble, as if it were to blame for all that he was feeling—but the glare was gone now. 

"What was that, honey?" Patton asked, his grin big and completely fake. Virgil could see the lines of exhaustion in every inch of his body—the physical manifestation of weeks of overworking and denial.

Virgil wandered further into the kitchen from the doorway he'd been standing in, tucking himself into Patton's chest. It barely took a moment for Patton to wrap his arms around his boyfriend, soft and close and safe, and Virgil could feel the warm glow in his chest increase. He hoped Patton's was doing the same—anything to replace the sadness he knew resided there.

Virgil pressed a kiss to whatever part of his boyfriend he could reach, already feeling almost drunk off of the contact. "Nap with me."

It was Virgil's way of saying, "I want to be near you," and they both knew that, except this time maybe it was for Patton more than himself. Virgil despised seeing any of his partners upset—there was almost nothing worse—and he couldn't do much to try and cheer them up, but he could do this.

There was a moment where Virgil worried Patton was going to protest, claim that he was fine or that he wasn’t very tired—both things Virgil knew to be a lie. Patton just sighed though, heavy and low, and Virgil knew from that that the fake grin was gone—probably had been since the moment he curled up in his arms.

"Yeah, alright, sweetie. I can do that."

Virgil pulled back enough to grab Patton's wrists, barely leaving a moment without some sort of contact, and dragged him over to the couch. Patton followed him patiently with his mask half-cracked, bits of weariness and fatigue shining in through his soft expression.

Throwing himself down, Virgil pulled Patton on top of him and after a moment of trying to get situated he was able to exhale. He could feel Patton's warmth all around him, the soft, chaste kisses he placed against his skin and the exhale of his breath as he relaxed for the first time that afternoon.

"I love you," Patton mumbled, nuzzling the back of Virgil's neck. The gesture was gentle and kind of silly and Virgil smiled softly, melting even further into Patton's embrace.

"I love you too."

Patton hummed in contentment, lazy and full of adoration, and it was barely any time at all before the two of them had fallen asleep.

—————————————-

"Nap with me?"

It was the first thing Virgil had said upon Logan answering the door and although he wished that maybe he had built up to it, he couldn't feel particularly remorseful. It was what he had come here to ask.

Logan blinked at him for a moment, seeming mildly caught out, before finally pulling open the door further and granting Virgil entry to the room.

Logan's bedroom was a mess. There were markers scattered all over the desk as well as shoved into the rubbish bin, scrunched up bits of paper littered all around the floor and a giant poster board shoved onto the bed, half filled up with numbers and graphs Virgil didn't understand the significance of. He could physically feel the stress in the room, filling up the air and pressing down on the two of them as they stood there.

Virgil watched his boyfriend sigh, running his hand through his hair before speaking. "Virgil, I'm very sorry, but I cannot. I simply have too much work to do. Why not go t-"

"No one's seen you in days, L." 

Virgil's interruption was met by a look of shock and guilt—something that only flitted across Logan's face for a moment before he composed himself. Virgil could see the tension in his shoulders though, the restlessness of his hands wanting for something, anything, to do. So, he wasn't fooled.

"Please, nap with me?" Virgil let his voice break slightly, let some of the worry shine through in his words and watched Logan's expression soften.

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Logan's waist but keeping his face in sight—noting his dry, bitten lips, the bags under deep, brown eyes and the way that they shone with unshed tears. He didn't say anything. Instead, he cupped his boyfriend's cheek in his hand, pressing their foreheads together.

"I- yes. Okay," Logan whispered, words exhaled into the small space between them and Virgil closed that gap, if only for a moment.

The kiss was soft—so delicate and light that you could almost question whether it had happened at all—but the love it exuded was more than enough compensation. There were definitely tears now, Logan's shoulders drooping and his cheeks wet and Virgil moved to wipe them away, touch as light and delicate as the kiss itself.

"My room?"

Logan nodded, expression almost dazed—drifting somewhere in a space beyond deadlines and scripts, filled instead with the softness of Virgil's touch and the warmth of his body.

Virgil's almost certain Logan didn't register the movement to his room until they'd already arrived, Logan curled up against his chest and Virgil's hand running through his hair as he let his boyfriend cry. He muttered quiet reassurances, love confessions spoken in words you might not expect and barely registered the slow, steady breathing of his boyfriend as he too fell asleep.

——————————-

"Nap with me?"

"Virgil, what in the world are you doing?!" Roman yelled, shoving him out of the way just in time for the arrow that was speeding past to spear into the tree behind them. Virgil took a moment to enjoy the warmth of Roman's hands against him but a moment was all he was afforded as Roman pulled back to resume the battle.

Virgil ran up towards him, ignoring the way the clashing of swords edged into his brain and made him wince. Everything was so loud—the yelling and fighting permeating every inch of the forest clearing—and Virgil's head was throbbing, but he had a mission here and he couldn't let his panic get in the way.

"Roman, stop the scene!"

Roman threw Virgil a glance over his shoulder, sparing only a moment to try and figure out his motives before bringing his attention frontwards again. "What are you talking about?! It doesn't work like that!"

"Yes, it does, I know it does!" His words were tight now, tense and desperate.

He shut his eyes in an attempt to gain some sort of balance in his surroundings but it only seemed to make everything louder—the distant sounds now touching up against his skin, prickling and hot and impossible to ignore. He fell to the ground but it barely even registered, sounds piercing his gut and every inch of his body tense and shaky.

"ROMAN, STOP!"

His voice echoed throughout the clearing and in an instant, everyone was gone.

Virgil wasn't even sure if it was him or Roman who had done it but it didn't feel like it mattered now as Roman knelt beside him, hands tightly holding his own and whispering apologies into the now quiet clearing. Virgil wanted to reassure him that he didn't need to apologise, he just needed to listen, but all he could get out were gasps as he tried to bring himself back to a state of calm.

After a moment Virgil could feel tapping against his skin—one, two, three, four, pause; one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, pause; one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, pause—and he held his breath, trying to follow along despite his body screaming for more air. He could hear Roman letting out bits of praise amidst Virgil's heaving breaths, reassuring him how well he was doing and how perfect he was and how much he loved him and Virgil gripped his hands tighter, trying not to cry.

By the time Virgil could breathe again his entire body was sore, his muscles weak and his head still pulsating with every movement. He released the grip he had on Roman's hands, letting them fall away and wincing slightly as he drew back entirely, sapping away the warmth Virgil had been soaking up.

"I'm sorry, darling, I should have listened to you." His head was hung, shame and self-directed anger radiating from his posture. Virgil maybe would have smacked him if he'd had any energy left in his body. 

"It's not your fault, princey."

Roman's head snapped up as he began to protest, "But, I-"

"It's not." Virgil sighed, pushing Roman back until he was laying on the grass beneath them. "I'm the one who decided to come into your realm in the first place; I knew this might happen."

He curled up beside him, head resting on Roman's chest as it rose and fell with his breaths, slowly matching the rhythm with his own as a hand found its way into his hair. It wasn't the most comfortable place to take a nap but Virgil could already feel himself getting drowsy, the panic attack having drained away all of his regular nervous energy and leaving him with nothing but drooping eyelids and heavy limbs.

"You don't have to come out here and fight a dragon witch or whatever to be important, you know?" Virgil murmured, words slurred and filled with much more meaning than expected, "You're important to us. You help us every day just by being around, you don't need to do anything more than that."

Virgil could feel the way Roman froze underneath him, taking a slow, deliberate breath and letting it out almost silently. "I'll try to remember that."

There was clear affection in his words, gratitude and a sense of peace he hadn't had moments before. Virgil let himself smile. 

"Good," he hummed, snuggling in even closer to his boyfriend before shutting his eyes and letting sleep overtake him.

————————————-

"Look, all I'm saying is that this is a terrible idea."

Virgil spun around on his heel, pacing back the other way towards the kitchen, before spinning around again. 

He could hear Logan sigh and Virgil ignored the uncomfortable feeling that shot through his chest at the prospect of having annoyed his boyfriends. He knew they'd get sick of his constant worrying someday, but that didn't mean he was at all prepared for it to happen.

"It's far too late to back out now, Virgil," Logan commented, flipping through Thomas' vacation itinerary for the third time that evening, "and I can promise you, everything is going to be perfectly fine."

"You can't promise me that, though. You don't know what could happen; you can't see the future! What if Thomas gets drugged? Or kidnapped?!" Virgil's eyes were wide as he spun to face his boyfriends. "Does anyone remember what to do if you get locked in the boot of a car?!"

Patton laughed nervously as Virgil went back to his pacing, fidgeting with the edges of his cat hoodie and offering his boyfriend a smile—wobbly, unsure, he wants to break up, they all hate you. "Now, kiddo, I'm sure none of those things will happen, it's just a trip!"

"But you can't be sure!" Virgil yelled, throwing his hands up to tug at his hair.

He wished his thoughts would shut up for once in his life but, of course, he could never be granted such mercy. He was Anxiety—a plague, a terror, a dark side—and that was all he was ever going to be. He was never going to get any better and they were going to realise and hate him just as much as they had before and he was going to be all alone the way he deserved to be. They were too good for him, he should just break up with them right now so they didn't have to-

"Come nap with us."

Virgil froze mid-step, eyes filling with tears almost involuntarily as he glanced over at Roman. He was curled up on the couch next to the others, his expression kind and soft and Virgil wanted to cry but he felt like he wasn't allowed to.

"What?"

Roman rose up from the couch, making his way around the coffee table to stand in front of him. "Come nap with us, sweetheart. We want you here, exactly as you are."

Suddenly, Virgil didn't seem to have much of a choice on whether he was going to cry or not.

He felt his legs give out beneath him as he fell to the ground, Roman barely managing to surge forward and catch him before he crumpled into a sobbing heap on the floor. He gripped tightly at his boyfriend, tugging him in as close as he could possibly get, face pressed into Roman's shoulder and wetting his shirt with his tears.

There was heat against his back and sides—Logan and Patton having stumbled their way off the couch to comfort him—a hand in his hair, one rubbing against his back, kisses against his skin. It was overwhelming but it was so perfect. Every action was filled with so much warmth and affection and Virgil never wanted it to end, wanted to stay pressed between his boyfriends' bodies and drowning in their love for as long as he continued to live.

It simultaneously felt like eons and only a few seconds before they all drew back, prompting an embarrassing whine to leave Virgil's mouth without his permission. Patton shushed him, giving quick kisses to the now near-dried tear tracks on his face.

"It's alright, we're just going to move, love," Virgil heard Logan whisper from behind him, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his neck that made Virgil shiver.

Patton grasped his hands, pulling him up and over to a mountain of pillows and blankets Virgil was almost certain hadn't been there before, as the other two trailed after them. Virgil smiled as Patton pulled the two of them down into the pile, wrapping him up tightly in his arms and giving a sort of satisfied hum.

"No fair! I wanted to cuddle the emo nightmare!"

Virgil glanced up to see Roman standing above the two of them, hands on his hips and pouting. Logan was standing beside him, wearing an expression not too dissimilar from his, "I-can't-believe-I'm-in-love-with-this-idiot" look, if only a bit softer.

Patton's arms tightened around Virgil as he pressed a kiss to his cheek, making Virgil blush. "Nope! You had your turn, Ro, he's mine now."

"I believe I haven't had a proper chance to cuddle with Virgil either, Patton," Logan interjected, a ghost of a smile on his face, "What determined that you should be the one to go first?"

Virgil laughed—the happiness bubbling up inside him begging to be heard and interrupting whatever Patton had been about to reply. "How about you both just come down here and I'll cuddle all of you, sound good?"

There were certainly no complaints from his boyfriends, Roman throwing himself down onto the pillows on Virgil's other side, bouncing slightly as he landed and wrapping his arms as much around him as he could with Patton still holding on.

Logan, rather than simply flinging himself onto the others the way Roman had, crawled his way over. He wormed himself into Patton and Virgil's embrace until he had successfully managed to get Virgil to pull him against his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Patton looked mildly put out by this intrusion, but was quickly pacified by Logan's lips against his, firm but loving as he pulled Patton closer towards the two of them.

"Go to sleep now, my dear," Roman whispered, tangling his fingers into Virgil's hair. He could feel the arm Roman lay on top of him moving slightly, his fingertips swirling patterns into the skin on Logan's hip.

The warmth was intense—Virgil could feel contact from his boyfriends on almost every part of his body—but rather than feeling crushing, it felt caring. Each brush of hands against his skin and every word exhaled into the air around them adding to the sensation of love that Virgil just couldn't shake. 

One by one the movements slowed to a stop, breathing steadying out as each of them lost their grip on consciousness. Virgil was the last to go, relaxing with a sigh as he let his eyes flutter closed. After all, he was safe here, safer than he had ever felt before.

Snuggled between each of his boyfriends, Virgil had never slept so well.

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

tag list: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @mctaetae613 @autism-goblin @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @sanders-and-sides @spirits-in-my-thoughts @hhhhhhhhhhfjaskfsagfhasfgdsakfsa @autistic-virgil @happysingingturtles @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @poisonedapples (plus, @dr-gloom you wanted to be tagged!)

[morning-star-57]

Miraculous Quirk AU Part 2

Part 1 || Part 2 here!

Part two of my ml quirk idea!

Enjoy!

Max

Was originally in the support class in got transferred into hero class after creating Markov

Still goes to the support department to make his creations

Prefers to make his own equipment and his friend’s equipment too if they ask nicely

His quirk is, unsurprisingly, technology manipulation. He can mentally manipulate and create technology. The drawbacks are that he can’t create something that he knows nothing about. So if he wanted to create something from a tv show, but he doesn’t know the inner workings of it, he can’t create it. Also, can’t create/control too many objects at once or else his body will tire out and give out on him. The bigger the object he’s trying to make or control, the more quickly he will tire out

Everyone goes to him for anything technology related

“Max, can you help me fix my computer?”

“Hey, Max? My phone froze how do I fix it?”

“Max-”

You get it

Is usually nice enough to help tho

he chill

People learn not to mess with him quickly tbh

Oh? Were you picking on Max?

Oops, guess you need a new phone

Made Markov with the intention of helping himself get better at his quirk

Accidentally made himself a best friend

It be like that sometimes

Rose

wants to be a rescue hero (like Thirteen in bnha)

Her quirk is nature manipulation. Basically she can manipulate or summon plants and vegetation. She can also speed up the process of plant growth all the way up to it’s death. The drawbacks are that she can’t summon or create on uneven or shaky ground (a concentration issue) she uses her own energy when making plants out of nothing so doing that too much will put her in a coma like state until her energy replenishes. Can and has lasted weeks after some unfortunate accident

even though she’s against violence she’s one of the best fighters in class

is lowkey terrifying 

also lowkey very powerful too but her insecurities keep her from going beyond her limits

is dating Juleka

Her quirk actually manifested at birth instead of at 4 like most people’s. She laughed and sunflowers started popping up in random places. It was cute until her mother had an entire garden in her kitchen from Rose crying

Strong emotions can still trigger this random flower sprouting even after learning control

Her room is a fucking forest

Vines, flowers, grass, moss, IT’S ALL THERE

Juleka walked in once and saw a bird nest and some snakes chilling

No one knows how they got there

Has a pet venus flytrap named Vinny. 

Vinny has seen some shit

rip Vinny

Juleka

opposite of her brother

wants to become an underground hero like Luka 

Her quirk is sound nullification, the opposite of her brother’s. She can reduce the sound waves that travel within her range, which includes people’s voices. She’s also immune to sound based attacks since once they’re in her range, she can block them out. Perfect for infiltration or sneaking. The drawbacks are that she can’t communicate when she’s using her powers. Also, if she deactivates her quirk all at once, all of the lost sound will come at once and that could be dangerous so she has to slowly return the sound.

is dating Rose, we been knew

once she gets her hero licence, she and Luka planned to become a team together

works very hard on her combat skills since her quirk is mostly defensive

once, she and Rose were paired up together and it was the day that the class knew true fear

gets antsy around really loud noises so she’ll use her quirk to reduce the volume

tried to play a prank on Luka by taking away his sound and he almost had a panic attack

They made up but no more pranks

Mylène

her quirk is, ironically, shadow manipulation. she can control existing shadows and can even use them to travel or cloak herself. Drawbacks are that it becomes weaker during the day, especially on sunny days. But it becomes too strong during the night so she has trouble controlling it. 

Hated it and for the longest time refused to use it

but was encouraged by her family and ended up trying out for the hero course after using it to help someone and figuring out that it isn’t evil

is still very shy about it and doesn’t like using it during the night

is scared of the dark

after she gets used to her quirk and more comfortable, she uses it for everyday things

like getting from A to B

public transportation, who? we don’t know her

we only know shadow travel here

something’s too high up

no problem

she can manipulate the object’s shadow to push the actual object forward so that it falls into her arms

step stools are no longer needed

still dating Ivan

Ivan

his quirk is emotions. that’s right folks we have an empath on our hands. Basically, he can sense and manipulate emotions of others, and even project his own emotions onto others as well. Drawbacks include emotional fatigue (you know that feeling of feeling drained after spending too much time with other people? yeah that), can’t really turn it off so he’s vulnerable to others’ strong emotions, and can experience over stimulation in highly emotional moments that an send him into a panic attack.

due to his quirk, he finds himself in isolation a lot

has noise cancelling headphones

can’t focus on others’ emotions if you’re jamming to your fav song

planned to be an underground hero but was looking into being in a team after he started dating Mylène

tends to leave the room whenever he’s feeling strong emotions so he doesn’t accidentally project

since he can sense emotions, that means he can sense irregularity in emotions as well and you know what that means!

he’s a living lie detector, that’s what that means

Lila tried it on him and he was like “sure jan”

can also sense hostility so people learn to be weary of those he doesn’t trust

Warms up to the class and opens up a lot more but still needs a lot of time to himself to recharge his batteries

dealing with others is hassle and Ivan needs some Me Time (featuring Mylène every now and then)

[today-only-happens-once]

behind closed doors; an explanation of “caving in”

Tags for peeps that have seemed interested in an explanation at some point (but if you don’t actually want me to fill in gaps and want to think on it yourself, there is NO PRESSURE AT ALL to read through this): @serge980​, @char-of-the-stars​ (just if you want, no pressure!), @analogical-mess​, @vigilantvirgil​

So several people have asked if I would explain what happened in Virgil’s room/surrounding that situation in my fic, “caving in” (part 1) (part 2). I want to start by saying that I intentionally left it vague. I wanted readers to feel free to interpret it and fill in the blanks however their imagination might. 

With that said, I’m willing to share my thoughts on this fic because it was so different from my norm. So below the cut, I’ve done my best to explain what was happening in that fic that I had in mind. But feel free to ignore this post if you want to just fill in the blanks yourself. My interpretation isn’t any more valid than anyone else’s. 

It’s long. A lot of thought went into this fic... so I hope you find it interesting!

Before I talk about what I intended to have happened in Virgil’s room when they were locked in there, I think I must first talk about the intentions behind what led up to that. 

In Caving In Part 2, Logan mentions that Thomas had been online. In Part 1, there’s a moment when Logan tries to summon Virgil quickly, only to be too late. My intention here was to imply that Thomas had seen something online that triggered a panic attack. Logan summons Virgil as soon as Thomas sees it in the hopes that Virgil could help, but the attack happens suddenly. Thomas, Logan, Roman, and Patton are immediately transported into Virgil’s Room. 

Why isn’t Virgil there? Well, remember in Accepting Anxiety Part 2 when Logan says “just like you keep Thomas away from potentially dangerous situations, you also enable him to escape from the ones he manages to get himself into”. Logan was speaking directly, in that moment, about Virgil being the one to get them out of his room (”we’re getting them all out of here. Thomas, remember what you’ve learned. Breathe in for four seconds. Hold for seven seconds. Breathe out for eight seconds.”). I wanted to explore the idea of a panic/anxiety attack as Thomas being trapped in the feeling of Anxiety’s influence, but without the part of Anxiety that helps him escape from that. 

Virgil not being able to get through the door was meant to be representative of that, as well.

Part 1 is all about what happens on Virgil’s side of the door. And I allude to a lot of bad things happening on the other side of that door. Remus’s appearance on the other side of the door was meant to be a means of showing how intrusive thoughts can be.... really scary during an anxiety attack, and much harder to manage. In part 2, when Remus says “your room is fun, Virgil”, it was meant to suggest that perhaps Remus isn’t exactly... bothered by the influence of Virgil’s room on him. I think feelings of anxiety would lend a certain strength to Remus. I also tried to allude to this idea when Virgil accuses him of keeping the door shut. I never have Remus confirm or deny that accusation, but I always intended for Remus to have a played a role in Virgil’s inability to get through the door as part of that broader metaphor regarding panic attacks and the inability to calm down from them. 

Remus saying that Patton was the first one to cry was two-fold. One of them is that, in my recent struggles with what I think are anxiety attacks, they feel more like emotional meltdowns that I can’t always head-off. (The other reason is that Remus definitely points out that fact to get under Virgil’s skin a little). For Patton, I generally focused on him as Deep Emotions. This is why he’s the first one to vocalize what the others are feeling (Logan as angry, Roman as hurt), and also the first to admit that he’s afraid. I think experiences like that have this ability to leave people feeling deeply shaken and afraid, and I wanted Patton to be reflective of that as the manifestation of Deep Emotions. Patton is one of the characters noted by Virgil to have remnants of eye shadow, and that was an attempt to suggest that the effects of the what he experienced in Virgil’s room are still impacting him. 

Logan is angry through Part 2 in the wake of what happened. Some people have noticed that it’s because he is repeatedly silenced, and that is certainly part of it. But another part connects back to what happened in the room, as well. In Accepting Anxiety Part 2, Logan speaks with increasing urgency and hints at his insecurity about being listened to (”yes, I’m about to provide more exposition, Thomas. Just bear with me?”). I wanted to lean into that idea a bit, and explore how that need on Logan’s behalf would have emotional ramifications for him when paired with the idea that, well... we don’t always listen to logic when we’re in situations like that. In fact, it can be really hard to listen to logic. I wanted to suggest that while Thomas had been able to hear Logan when they were all locked in the room, he wasn’t really listening. The look that Logan gives Virgil in Part 1 after the door opens, before Logan tells Thomas he must rest, was meant to suggest that Logan hopes Virgil will say it instead. Because he does not know if Thomas will listen to him. Additionally, I wanted to use Logan as an avenue to reflect how sometimes people get frustrated or angry with themselves for getting into those situations, even if that blame is misplaced. Logan carries the weight of guilt about getting Thomas into that predicament, and is frustrated that Thomas would not listen to him enough to let him help get them out (exacerbated by the very fact that Anxiety’s influence worsens that very feeling already in Logan). 

For Roman in this fic, I focused on him mostly as Thomas’s ego and also as his Creativity. Roman is the first one to repeat Deceit’s lie that “Thomas is fine”, and he is the last of the Core Sides to let go of it at the end. This is rooted in Roman’s function as Thomas’s ego. I wanted to explore how people’s pride can feel effected after incidents like panic/anxiety attacks, and the way the stability of that pride/ego can feel dependent on the assurance that you are “fine”, however misguided that notion may be. Secondarily, Roman also carries a certain weight of guilt about what happened in the room. Roman feels that, as Creativity, he should have been able to help distract Thomas into a more calm state, or he should have been able to overpower his brother, and so on. Instead, Roman devolved similar to what we saw in Accepting Anxiety Part 2; except this time, it happens more quickly given the suddenness of it and Remus’s presence, Virgil’s lack of presence, and the general turmoil of what was happening. Roman is the other character that Virgil notices seems to still have lingering eye shadow; that detail was meant to show the same thing it did for Patton. 

Deceit is--hopefully obviously--meant to be representative of Thomas’s own self-deception. Deceit did not play any direct role in what happened, but he has a central role to how Thomas processes (or doesn’t process) it after the fact. In addition to insisting that Thomas is fine, he keeps things from being talked about at times. Deceit silences Logan in that first conversation with Virgil, for example, because Virgil doesn’t actually want to know what happened; it’s not until he has the interaction with Remus that Virgil must confront how he actually wants to find a place to situate blame, and thus becomes more open to hearing about it (which is how Patton is able to tell Virgil more than Logan without being silenced). When it comes to Deceit’s role in all of this, I leaned into Logan’s line from CLBG: “You don’t want to believe it. That’s where his power comes from. Things that you want to believe. Things that you wish were true, and things that you wish weren’t.” It’s not until Virgil forces Thomas to confront the truth that Deceit finally loses his power. 

I hope this makes sense, and perhaps brings some clarity to things if you were confused. I’m really proud of “Caving In” and the process behind it, so I hope you enjoyed reading it (and this). Grateful for all of you. If you have any other questions or want to know more about my interpretation of it, feel free to shoot me an ask or something.