#enough for connecting me to some of the best humans on earth all over the world

[angelremnants]

Thank you for answering my ask, I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable before i sent the request.

I'd like to request a Loki x reader where the reader is a shield agent with magic powers (however not the best with them due to lack of training.) Where she's at the base where loki first arrives on earth and she tires to sneak up on him (using her magic) but he uses the scepter on the reader to put her under his control and he sees her potential and helps her with her magic maybe there could be some romantic tension thrown in if you want.

I hope you enjoy the rest of your day :)

In the Gravity of You l L. Laufeyson

summary : You never expected to cross paths with a god, let alone have your destiny tangle with his. Tasked with retrieving the Tesseract for S.H.I.E.L.D., you quickly learn you're in over your head after getting extraordinary powers in an unfortunate occurrence. Your fate is no longer in your hands, and the stone, the source of your connection, seem to have sinister abilities. Its power will either bond you together... or tear you apart.

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature (16+) angsty angsty angst, Loki being the villain we all know and love, themes of manipulation, mind control, emotional turmoil, psychological distress, intense character conflicts, power dynamics, toxic relationship (overall platonic-ish but could be translated as a romantic one), referenced minor character death, strong language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 20.7k

author's notes : I sincerely apologize for the lateness of the publication, the resumption of my uni classes really grabbed me by the neck. Surprisingly enough, your request aligned perfectly with my initial idea when I read the rough version of it—I guess great minds really do think alike. I know this would technically suffice to answer your ask, but I do have the rest of the storyline thought of, so let me know if you'd like me to pursue and make a second part.

Thank you for trusting me with your concept, I hope what follows meets your expectations and that you enjoy it. <3

(ao3 version)

⠀⠀

The Tesseract was never just a relic, never a mere stone. It was the embodiment of infinite potential—a boundless power encased in crystalline geometry, a paradox of beauty and destruction. For centuries, it had altered the course of supernaturals and men alike, its light shaping destinies and shattering them in equal measure. And yet, here it sat, deceptively inert, its radiance subdued by the sterile walls of the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, a tiger caged by human ingenuity.

Its glow was hypnotic, a rhythmic pulse that promised something beyond comprehension—something vast, something catastrophic. The energy emanating from its cerulean heart whispered of stars born and civilizations lost, of power so immense it demanded reverence, yet made no overt claims to it. Instead, the Tesseract simply waited, patient and silent, for the inevitable moment when it would unmake everything that dared to wield it.

To you, however, it was not a cosmic artifact or an object of worship. 

It was both a beginning and an end—a harbinger of ruin masquerading as opportunity. It loomed over you like the sword of Damocles, its promise of untapped power balanced precariously against the reality of your fragile humanity. And yet, duty, curiosity, and an innate selflessness had brought you here into its presence, as if you could tame the infinite. What you did not realize was that the Tesseract was no tool for mortal hands; it was entropy given form, the instrument of its wielder’s undoing.

And it was also the reason you crossed paths with him.

The reason you were irrevocably bound to the accursed dark prince—the fulcrum upon which your fates had pivoted, weaving a cruel tapestry that ensured your destinies were bound in a way that neither of you could foresee or escape. A cosmic entanglement, propelled by the very force that would ultimately undo you both.

The mission itself had been deceptively simple. Retrieve the Tesseract. Transport it safely to Dr. Selvig at the P.E.G.A.S.U.S. research facility. No surprises, no complications. For S.H.I.E.L.D., it was a routine operation—yet as you entered the chamber where it was to be housed, an almost imperceptible shiver coursed through you, charged with an energy that gnawed at the edges of your composure. Something was wrong.

You had been entrusted with this mission personally by Director Fury, a rare responsibility that spoke volumes about your standing within the organization. Though officially labeled a field agent, your consistent track record of competence and leadership had earned you an unspoken authority among your peers. When missions called for precision, discipline, and sound judgment, you were the agent to lead the charge.

The cube rested at the center of the room, ensconced in a sleek containment unit. Its glow was softer here, less urgent, like the calm surface of a tranquil sea. But the tranquility was a facade. Beneath its placid exterior, the cube pulsed with an untamed vitality, its light rippling in hypnotic waves that seemed to draw the eye and ensnare the soul. The air itself seemed to tremble in its presence, warped by its gravitational pull, as if reality itself were bending to accommodate its vast power. It seemed to distort reality as it pleased, bending the space around it in subtle, unnerving ways.

“Stay sharp,” you ordered, your voice steady despite the growing unease gnawing at your gut. Your eyes remained fixed on the vestige, even as the agents around you fanned out in a choreography born of years of training and with military precision. It was magnetic in its presence—a quiet siren’s call that whispered promises you could not fully understand.

The youngest of your team, Harris, shifted uneasily near a console. His nervousness radiated outward, every hesitant movement and squeak of his boots against the polished floor betraying a lack of confidence that had no place in a room like this. You saw his fidgeting in your peripheral vision, but there was no time for reassurances. Not here.

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of the Tesseract’s energy and the occasional scrape of boots against the polished floor. Its light painted the room in shades of blue, casting restless shadows that seemed to move of their own accord. Something about it felt alive, as if the artifact itself were watching, waiting. A resonant hum grew louder, its vibrations crawling through the steel floor and up into your bones in a low, ominous thrum that threatened to drown out the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. It demanded your attention, pulling at your senses as though daring you to confront the mysteries it held.

And then it happened.

A sudden metallic clang shattered the silence. Harris had stumbled, his elbow striking the console with a sharp impact. His face drained of color as he stammered an apology, but the damage was done. The Tesseract’s pulse shifted, its rhythm escalating into a frenzied crescendo. The soft glow erupted into bursts of light, chaotic and brilliant, like the heart of a star going supernova.

An invisible shockwave rippled outward. It struck you with the force of a hurricane, sending you staggering backward. Harris was thrown off his feet entirely, his body skidding across the floor until it collided with the wall. “Harris!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the chaos, but the Tesseract was not finished.

Its light flared brighter, blindingly so, as a guttural hum resonated through the room. It wasn’t just a sound—it was a vibration, crawling up through the floor and into your bones, sinking into the very marrow of your being. Then you felt it: a pull. 

It was subtle at first, a faint tug deep in your core. But it grew with terrifying speed, an insidious force that bypassed muscle and bone to grip at something deeper—your essence, your very soul. Your boots screeched against the floor as you fought against it, but resistance was futile. This was not a battle of strength. It was inevitability, as natural and unstoppable as gravity.

“Agent, fall back!” Agent Barton’s voice cut through the hubbub, urgent and commanding. But even as his words reached you, your body betrayed you. Your hand shot forward, drawn toward the cube by an unseen force. The world around you seemed to collapse, sound and light narrowing to a singular point as your fingertips grazed the Tesseract’s surface.

In an instant, the world dissolved. It felt like the universe shattered in one single motion.

Pain erupted through you—a raw, searing force that clawed at every corner of your existence. It wasn’t a mere sensation; it was an annihilation. It tore through muscle and bone, shredding you from the inside out, molecule by molecule, as if the very fabric of your being were coming undone. The agony was boundless, an unrelenting tempest that blurred the edges of reality. Each wave struck with merciless precision, splintering your consciousness into shards of unbearable light and dissonant sound.

Your scream ripped through the chaos but was swallowed whole by the deafening roar of the Tesseract. It loomed before you, pulsating with untamed energy, a singularity of infinite power that consumed everything it touched. Your body was no longer yours—it vibrated violently, oscillating between solidity and dissolution, between being and nothingness. One moment you were whole, anchored to the world; the next, you were scattered like ash in a storm, lost in a kaleidoscope of light that knew no boundaries.

The air around you rippled and bent, folding in on itself as the Tesseract defied the laws of creation. Space and time became indistinguishable, a swirling vortex of cerulean light that twisted the chamber into an incomprehensible nightmare. Reality itself seemed to fracture, each shard cutting deeper into the fragile thread tethering you to existence.

You tried to fight, to pull back, to resist, but your body refused. Your limbs were paralyzed, locked in the cube’s grasp. The pull was inexorable, a force beyond comprehension, as though the Tesseract was unraveling not just your body but your very soul. Your hand clung to it involuntarily, the skin fused to the cube’s impossible energy. It surged through you, a flood of raw power that stripped away every defense, every sense of control, until you were nothing but an echo caught in its current.

Through the haze of light and torment, you saw Harris’s face—a pale mask of horror etched in wide, guilt-ridden eyes. He stood frozen, helpless, as the storm swallowed everything. His lips moved, shaping words you couldn’t hear, his panic mingling with the chaos until he became just another fragment in the maelstrom.

Then came the sharp sting. A sudden intrusion, a dart piercing through the madness. Warmth spread like a balm, slow and creeping, as the sedative flooded your veins. The jagged edges of pain dulled, softening into something bearable, and the Tesseract’s roar receded into the background. Your vision blurred, the blinding light melting into formless shapes and indistinct colors. Darkness encroached, a welcome reprieve, as your body succumbed to the numbing tide of unconsciousness.

When awareness returned, it was fractured and incomplete. The world was muted, sluggish, and distant, as if you were watching it from beneath a deep, impenetrable surface. Every muscle ached with the ghost of the Tesseract’s fury, trembling uncontrollably as if the energy still reverberated within you. Overhead, the sterile glow of the S.H.I.E.L.D. facility flickered, casting harsh, shifting shadows as figures moved around you. Their voices were muffled, urgent, like whispers carried on a breeze you couldn’t quite grasp.

“Keep her stabilized.” Fury’s voice cut through the haze—sharp, unrelenting, and commanding. “I don’t want to lose her—or that damn thing. Move her to incubation, now.”

Hands lifted you, careful yet hurried, the weight of urgency palpable in every touch. The cold, clinical surface of the incubation pod greeted your trembling form as they lowered you into its confines. Tubes and wires snaked over your body, connecting you to machines that hummed with purpose, their efforts focused on quelling the storm raging inside you. The glass walls of the chamber sealed with a faint hiss, encasing you in a cocoon of light and machinery.

The sedatives pulled you deeper into oblivion, their cold embrace silencing the tremors and dulling the edges of reality. Your vision faded, the faint shimmer of the stone’s glow being the last thing you saw before darkness claimed you entirely. In the void, there was no pain, no light, no sound—only silence, immutable and consuming. For now, at least, the battle was over. But the Tesseract’s presence lingered, a shadow at the edge of your consciousness, promising that this was only the beginning.

The entire universe collapsed into stillness, leaving you adrift in an abyss where even the echoes of pain could no longer reach.

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

Your first encounter with him occurred before your mind could comprehend its gravity, before the threads of reality around you could form a coherent picture of the calamity descending.

When Loki arrived, the air itself seemed to hold its breath. His presence was magnetic, regal, and laced with a menace that spoke of a king returning to a throne wrenched away from him too soon. The atmosphere shifted in a subtle tremor that most wouldn’t notice, but to those attuned to power, it was unmistakable—a quiet warning of the storm in his wake. The faint glow of the Tesseract intensified as though it recognized him, its pulse syncing with his own like a heartbeat answering its master’s call.

His sharp azure eyes swept the lab, calculating and cold, taking in every detail—the sterile containment machinery, the panicked agents scrambling like insects, the futile attempts of those who had already failed to protect what was his. And then his gaze faltered, caught by something unexpected. Amid the wreckage and chaos, his attention was drawn to a peculiar structure: an incubator.

It stood at the center of the room like a relic in a temple, its cylindrical glass walls shimmering with an ethereal glow that softened the surrounding chaos. Tendrils of mist swirled inside, diffusing the cerulean light emanating from the unconscious figure within. 

You. 

Suspended in fragile stasis, your chest rose and fell with faint, labored breaths, as though the incubator were cradling a dying flame. Wires and tubes snaked outward, connecting your fragile form to a pulsating core that emitted a low, rhythmic hum, keeping you tethered to life.

Loki's countenance changed, his typical sneer replaced by something more subtle—a flash of intrigue. It lacked sympathy and concern. It was deeper, sharper, the kind of curiosity reserved for something unusual and frightening, something worth investigating. His stare lingered on you, scrutinizing every feature, his mind trying to figure out what the Tesseract's energy had done to you. You weren't just a bystander caught in its aftermath. No, you were tied to it in ways he couldn't understand.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, his voice smooth and low, a velvet thread winding through the chaos. His fingers brushed the cool glass, trailing over its surface as though he could feel the energy pulsing within you. “So this is the vessel,” he mused, tilting his head. “How fragile.”

Emerald magic flashed to life at his fingertips, flickering briefly before coiling around his palm. Without hesitation, he raised his staff, the shiny metal reflecting the lab's dim light. The stroke was rapid and purposeful, breaking the chamber with a single, thunderous crack that rang throughout the room. Shards of glass shower down in jagged, sparkling arcs, spreading across the floor like frozen tears. The stabilizing field faded and flickered before failing completely, leaving your still body crushed in the wreckage.

Loki stood there, unmoving, watching. Waiting. Surely, if you were truly tied to the Tesseract, something would happen—a surge of energy, a glimmer of defiance, some spark of recognition. But there was nothing. You lay motionless, unnervingly quiet, the faint glow that had surrounded you now extinguished.

“Disappointing,” the god scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. The intrigue that had sparked within him faded, a flame snuffed out by the absence of resistance. To him, you were no more than an experiment gone awry, a failed attempt at wielding something far beyond your reach. With a dismissive glance, he stepped over the shattered remnants of your chamber.

His focus shifted, and with a graceful turn, he redirected his attention to the true prize—the Tesseract.

The stone rested obediently within its container, its brilliance a beacon of sheer, unbridled power. Loki approached with steady steps and careful movements. Around him, turmoil continued to unfold—agents yelling commands, alarms ringing, lights flashing—but none of it affected him. He was untouchable, a power unto himself. Dr. Selvig and Hawkeye stood nearby, their blank eyes reflecting the same cerulean light, their bodies rigid and immovable under his command.

Fury stood apart, weapon drawn, his posture rigid in defiance. But even he couldn't shake Loki's unwavering confidence. The god's grin deepened, and a gleam of enjoyment appeared in his eyes as he grabbed the Tesseract in his palm. 

“I believe this belongs to me,” the raven-haired man purred, his voice rich with arrogance. The director’s shot rang out, a sharp crack cutting through the din, but with an effortless flick of his wrist, Loki deflected it. The bullet clattered uselessly to the ground, and his expression darkened with wicked amusement. “How quaint,” he sneered.

The alarms screamed louder, the lab descending further into chaos as agents scrambled to intercept him. But Loki moved through the turmoil as though it weren’t there, his steps smooth and unhurried, his smirk unwavering. The pandemonium bent around him, powerless to halt the god who strode through it like a tempest, claiming all in his path.

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

The world snapped into excruciating focus with a violent spasm, yanking you from the suffocating void of unconsciousness and thrusting you into agony. Your body convulsed, a ragged marionette caught in the grip of an unrelenting force. Energy tore through you, merciless, igniting every nerve as if your very molecules rebelled against their own cohesion. Pain burned through your veins, liquid fire coursing with wild abandon. Each breath was a desperate, jagged gulp of air that scorched your lungs, a brutal reminder that you were alive.

Fragments of memory swirled in chaotic fragments—flashes of the Tesseract’s blinding, celestial light, the shattering of the containment chamber, and the surge of overwhelming power that had consumed you. It wasn’t just recollection; it was an echo carved into the fabric of your being, a visceral reminder of what had been unleashed within you.

And beneath all, a deeper sensation pulled at your core. Something was missing. Something vital.

The Tesseract!

The realization struck like a blow to the chest, hollowing you from the inside. Its absence was an unfathomable ache, gnawing at the space it had once filled, leaving behind an emptiness that resonated in your very soul. The energy still thrummed within you, faint yet alive, but it was incomplete—like a melody with its center note stripped away. The absence wasn’t just noticeable; it was consuming.

Before your mind could process the void, your body responded on its own, instinct overriding all reason.

Tendrils of shimmering blue light coiled around you, alive with a life force too vast to comprehend. They twisted and pulsed, spiraling outward as your very essence flickered and fractured, teetering at the edges of reality itself. The sensation wasn’t conscious or deliberate—it was a visceral reaction to the loss. Desperation surged through you, bending the world around you and reshaping space to your will.

In one moment, you lay broken on the cold, fractured floor of the lab; in the next, you were somewhere else entirely.

A violent snap tore through the air as you reappeared near the facility’s exit. The displaced energy rippled outward, hurling agents back with wide-eyed disbelief. The world was a blur of sharp, blinding intensity—colors too vivid, sounds too loud, and sensations too overwhelming. Your gaze darted to the helicopter in the distance, its rhythmic blades carving through the air.

There it was. That faint, unmistakable blue glow pulsing from within.

The pull within you sharpened, more insistent now—a furious call that demanded action. It wasn’t merely anger, though rage burned beneath the surface. It wasn’t just desperation, though your chest felt tight with the weight of it. It was a connection, undeniable and unbreakable, as though the Tesseract was a part of you, an extension of your very existence.

The thought vanished as quickly as it appeared, buried beneath instinct. The energy spiraling around you intensified, wrapping you in a cocoon of light as the world dissolved again. You phased out of existence with a crackling burst of blue light, the chaotic din of the facility vanishing into silence.

When you surged back into reality, the helicopter was closer, its frame growing larger with each flicker of your form. You didn’t care about its occupants. You didn’t care about the destruction left in your wake. None of it mattered—not the chaos, not the consequences, not the searing pain coursing through you. All that mattered was the Tesseract.

It wasn’t a weapon. It wasn’t a relic. It was yours.

Another burst of power enveloped you, and you phased into existence midair. The helicopter’s rhythmic hum became a deafening roar, its descent jarring, unstable. But the chaos of its movement was nothing compared to the storm you brought. As you reappeared, the very fabric of reality trembled under the weight of your presence. The air shimmered, rippled, and bent—distorting around you as if the world itself could not reconcile your existence.

A radiant, otherworldly trail of energy marked your path, shimmering in your wake like the tail of a falling star. The ground below came into sharp focus as you landed, the grass beneath your feet trembling as though bowing under the force of your power.

The Tesseract’s faint glow taunted you from the helicopter’s interior, and your grip on the world tightened. Space itself warped and quivered, a prelude to the storm that would come next. You would reclaim it. No force on Earth—or beyond—could stop you now.

The car’s pilot, already riding the razor’s edge to evade relentless pursuit, had no chance to react when you materialized before them, a sudden ripple in the fabric of reality. Hawkeye, perched tensely in the driver’s seat, spotted you a heartbeat too late. His reflexes took over, and the vehicle lurched violently as he jerked the wheel to avoid a collision. The sharp swerve shattered their tenuous balance, throwing the team inside into disarray. For a moment, the vehicle bucked and wavered, momentum faltering as the pilot fought for control.

Your sudden arrival had fractured their escape, shredding the precision of their retreat like glass underfoot.

Without hesitation, you leveled your hand toward the fugitives, your outstretched finger heavy with intent, as sharp as any blade. “You have something of mine.”

The words were not a plea, nor even a demand. They rang with the weight of an irrefutable truth, a force that demanded acknowledgment.

From his perch atop the roof of the pickup, Loki tilted his head, his smirk as sharp and cutting as the edge of a dagger. “Is that so?” he drawled, the disdain in his tone curling like smoke in the air. “How curious—I don’t recall seeing your name etched upon it.”

The sarcasm dripped from his lips, designed to cut, to mock. Yet as he spoke, his gaze lingered on you, and the smirk faltered. His sharp blue eyes narrowed, the playful veneer slipping to reveal something colder.

The air around you shimmered, bending unnaturally as though space itself revolted in your presence. Each flutter of your form was a ripple in reality’s fabric, twisting the world in subtle, incomprehensible ways. This was no ordinary threat standing before him. This was something far more volatile. Far more intriguing.

The shift in Loki’s expression was subtle but unmistakable. His curiosity sharpened, dangerous and calculating. Whatever you were, you had caught his attention. He straightened, his scepter rising in one fluid motion, its dark magic coalescing at the tip, pulsing with power. “You are in my grasp,” he declared, his voice smooth as silk, laced with dark promise. The scepter’s energy thickened at the announcement, crackling with intent as the spell hurtled toward your mind.

But you were not so easily bound.

The pulse of magic surged toward you, but the instant it touched the space where you stood, your form dissolved in a burst of blue light. One moment, you were there; the next, you were gone. You reappeared several yards away in a swirl of ethereal smoke, the fabric of reality bending and twisting around you. The world itself seemed to shudder, as though struggling to reconcile your presence. What was left behind in your wake was not emptiness but a distorted imprint—an abstract chaos that flickered briefly before fading, leaving the air trembling as though it had witnessed something it could not comprehend.

Loki’s gaze snapped to you, frustration simmering beneath his cool facade, though his interest only deepened. He had faced many adversaries, but none quite like this.

Hawkeye reacted with instinct, spinning the vehicle on a screeching axis and charging toward you like a steel predator unleashed. The tires shrieked, the metal groaned, and the car hurtled forward—a weapon aimed to destroy.

You didn’t flinch.

With another flicker of gleam, you vanished, the car barreling harmlessly through the space you had occupied a moment before. Its path left nothing but rippling air, bending and twisting in your absence. When you reappeared, you were behind them, your body trembling as a sharp, icy cold gripped you. It wasn’t merely the chill of the air but something deeper—an invasive frost that gnawed at your very being, a cruel side effect of the power surging through you.

Your form wavered as you landed lightly on the warped ground, reality itself struggling to stabilize under the chaotic force that clung to you. Every movement left faint traces of distortion in the air, like a wound to the natural order that refused to heal.

Loki leaped down from the truck with predatory grace, each step carefully considered. His piercing gaze locked onto you, and the corner of his mouth twitched with something that wasn’t quite a smile. It was the expression of someone who had found a puzzle worth solving, a weapon worth wielding.

“Impressive,” he remarked, his voice velvet-smooth but laced with danger, like a shadow sliding over the edge of a blade. His words carried the kind of weight that chilled the air between you. There was no mistaking the hunger in his eyes—the hunger of a man who had glimpsed something extraordinary, something he intended to make his own.

Before you could draw a breath to react, he lunged, a blur of predatory precision, his every movement a testament to his otherworldly prowess. Yet you were faster. You flickered again, your form dissolving into a cascade of blue light, his grasp cutting through empty air as though the lack of corporeality mocked him. The space between you rippled and trembled, charged with a tension so thick it seemed to vibrate against the senses.

A flicker of frustration flashed across his face, a crack in the marble calm of his composure. He stepped back, his sharp gaze narrowing, tracking the elusive distortions in space that betrayed your movements. “What are you?” His voice was sharp and demanding, laced with a ravenous curiosity. It wasn’t a question; it was a challenge.

Confusion churned within you, tangled with a fear so visceral it clawed at your chest. The force inside you surged again, a tidal wave that pushed and pulled, relentless in its intensity. Each breath you drew felt like a battle, the air itself foreign and heavy. The cold that coursed through your veins gnawed at you from the inside, an unrelenting frost that left your body trembling and your teeth clenched against the shuddering.

“I don’t... I don’t know,” you gasped, the words barely more than a whisper, each syllable filled with helplessness. “It’s... happening to me.”

His lips curled into a slow, serpentine smile, a smile that carried no comfort. It was the kind of smile that promised danger, that whispered of schemes yet to unfold. “Fascinating,” he commented, his voice low and velvet-smooth, thick with an unsettling intrigue. “You are far more than you appear.”

He tilted his head, the glint in his eyes cutting through you like a blade. The weight of his gaze sent another shiver racing down your spine, its intensity a silent declaration of ownership, of intent. “I’ll be back for you.”

His words lingered, suspended in the charged air like the final note of a symphony, both a promise and a threat. Without a second glance, he turned, retreating with his team and the Tesseract, the space around him crackling with residual tension, as if reality itself bristled at his departure.

You exhaled sharply, your chest heaving as you struggled to steady your breath. The power within you thrummed wildly, a chaotic rhythm that echoed through your very core. It was untamed and overwhelming, but it was yours. No longer were you a victim of its force; you were beginning to feel it bend, however slightly, to your will.

Loki disappeared into the distance toward his newly acquired posse, and your gaze snapped to the truck where the Tesseract gleamed, tantalizingly close. Its light pulsed with an otherworldly rhythm that seemed to resonate with your own, beckoning you. Desperation drove you forward, your hand outstretched, trembling with effort. You could feel the Tesseract’s pull, its energy singing through the air.

But as your fingers brushed the cold metal of the truck, your body betrayed you. The familiar flicker of energy surged too late, and in an instant, you phased out again, vanishing into the blue haze of your power. The Tesseract slipped from your grasp, its light receding into the distance, impossibly far yet seared into your mind like an unfulfilled promise.

Frustration burned in your chest, but you didn’t falter. You willed the flicker to return, your body instinctively bending to the chaotic current within. With a sharp burst of energy, you reappeared, the familiar, sterile walls of the P.E.G.A.S.U.S. base snapping into focus around you.

The battlefield's disarray—the warping space, the crackling tension, and the suffocating presence of Loki—faded into the periphery. For the moment, you stood anchored in the only place that still felt real, the only tether you had to a world rapidly slipping beyond comprehension. Here, amid the sterile calm, you could breathe. For now.

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

The second time you awoke wasn’t to the haunting quiet of a shattered lab. Instead, the low, steady buzzing of engines surrounded you, accompanied by the slight, rhythmic sensations of an airplane in flight. It crushed on your senses, a bewildering bubble of noise and movement. The lighting around you was dark and flickering, producing shifting shadows on an array of medical monitors and gadgets crowded into the cramped area of a mobile lab.

Your body first recognized the restrictions laid upon you. Straps held your wrists and ankles to what seemed to be a hospital bed—not cruelly, but tight enough to send shivers down your spine. Anxiety zipped in your veins, making you acutely aware of your imprisonment.

Fragmented memories resurfaced: Loki's frigid, triumphant smirk; the Tesseract sliding from your hands; the painful warping of space as you faded away. Now you were fastened down like a laboratory specimen. Fantastic. Simply wonderful.

You shifted, testing the restraints. The faint creak of the straps broke the sterile silence, blending with muffled voices that drifted through the thin walls of your enclosure. Their tone was disturbingly casual, a stark contrast to the chaos brewing within you.

“She phased through a car? I’ve seen some weird things, but that’s a first,” a smooth, sarcastic voice quipped.

“Don’t forget the spatial distortions she caused,” another voice countered, sharper, more clinical. “She’s unstable. That’s the real issue here.”

“Unstable doesn’t necessarily mean dangerous,” came a calmer, measured response.

“Right,” the first voice shot back. “And unstable doesn’t mean she isn’t dangerous, either.”

You strained against the restraints, your heart pounding as the conversation grew clearer. The door creaked open, and a group filed in, their presence commanding the room.

At the forefront was the infamous Tony Stark, clad in partial armor, his sharp eyes scanning you with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Behind him came Steve Rogers, his steady stride exuding quiet authority, and a man you hadn’t quite met yet. His dark hair was tousled, and his expression looked like someone who had seen more than his fair share of exhaustion. Agent Romanoff’s sharp gaze swept the room with cool precision, while the mighty Thor loomed behind them, his formidable presence unmistakable. And finally, Director Fury entered, his singular eye cutting through the room’s tension with practiced ease.

All eyes landed on you, and under their collective scrutiny, you felt like a rare, caged specimen being examined.

“So, this is her,” Stark drawled, his voice light but his gaze piercing. “She’s... smaller than I expected.”

“Thanks,” you deadpanned, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Natasha tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “She doesn’t look like a threat.”

“That’s what they said about the Hulk the first time,” Stark retorted, gesturing toward the quiet mant. “And we all know how that turned out.”

“Can we please not compare people to me?” The presumable Hulk guy sighed, raising a hand as though to defuse the brewing tension. 

Steve stepped closer, his voice steady but firm. “She’s been through enough. Let’s treat her like a person, not a problem.”

Your patience snapped. “Hello? I’m right here!” You cut in, your voice sharp as glass. “Maybe stop talking about me like I’m a science experiment and explain what’s going on?”

Stark smirked, unfazed. “Hey, Jumper? Let the big men talk while we figure out what to do with you.”

Your brows furrowed. “Jumper? Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Stark replied with a shrug. “Like that movie. David Rice, teleporting, stealing—ring any bells?”

“Haven’t seen it,” you said flatly.

“You should. It’s a classic,” he answered, unbothered.

Their debate about your powers, your instability, and whether or not you were dangerous carried on, as though you weren’t even there. Each word stoked the fire of your frustration until it burned white-hot.

Finally, you’d had enough. “Shut up!” You shouted, the anger in your voice reverberating through the air.

The energy within you surged, wild and uncontrollable. A pulse burst outward, rippling through the space around you. The walls groaned under the strain, lights flickered violently, and the medical equipment rattled as though caught in the eye of a storm.

“Stand down!” Fury barked, his tone cutting through the chaos.

You clenched your fists, trembling as you fought to contain the volatile force. The chill of your power seeped into your skin, biting and relentless, but you wrestled it back, forcing the storm to subside. Slowly, the distortions eased, and the aircraft steadied. Every pair of eyes bore into you, equal parts awe and caution.

Stark raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s cranky.”

Fury stepped forward, his expression unreadable but his voice firm. “Let her up.”

The medical bay was cloaked in an eery silence, broken only by the low hum of machinery and the faint shuffle of boots in the corridor beyond. You flexed your fingers, the ache in your joints a cruel reminder of how long you’d been bound. The restraints clicked open, and you pushed yourself upright, the cold press of the metal bed frame biting into your back as you adjusted to freedom. 

Meeting Fury’s gaze, you kept your voice as even as possible despite the tremor in your hands. “Alright,” you said, steel in your tone. “What’s going on? Why was I strapped down like some lab rat?”

The one-eyed man didn’t flinch. His gaze was unwavering, his words carrying the weight of something far greater than yourself. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, weighted with unspoken tension. "We found you unconscious in the lab. Loki had made his escape, taken Barton and Selvig. When I came back, the incubation chamber that was stabilizing you was shattered. Loki smashed it, thinking it was part of the Tesseract’s containment."

You blinked, trying to piece together the fragmented memories of that chaotic moment. "Come again?"

"After you touched the Tesseract, your body went into a molecular spectacle," Fury explained, his words clipped. "That chamber was keeping the energy from ripping you apart. Without it..." He gestured vaguely at you, his meaning clear.

Your breath hitched as the weight of his words settled on your chest. "So Loki didn’t just free me—he left me like this?"

Fury nodded grimly. "And now we’re cleaning up the mess."

The unknown man stepped out of the shadows, his gaze analytical, though tempered by a quiet compassion. "It’s not just a mess," he started to explain, his voice softer than Fury’s but no less serious. "The Tesseract’s energy didn’t just destabilize you—it altered you on a fundamental level. Your molecular structure has been rewritten to... well, interact with dimensions in ways we don’t fully understand yet."

Your head throbbed as he continued, spilling out terms that blurred together in a haze of scientific jargon. Dimensional instability. Fourth-dimensional access. Something about space-time manipulation.

"English," you interrupted, rubbing your temples. "Please."

Steve, standing near the door, raised a hand in solidarity. "Seconded."

Tony stepped forward, letting out a dramatic sigh. "What he means is that the Tesseract got cozy with your DNA. Now you’ve got some nifty tricks: teleportation, spatial distortion, maybe more. Think of it like a surprise party—except the surprise is you’re the cake, and the Tesseract’s the one doing the slicing."

You glared at him. "Thanks for the metaphor. Really clears things up."

He smirked but didn’t respond.

Your thoughts churned, piecing together the implications. "That explains how I caught up to Loki after he escaped," you mulled. "He tried to hit me with his scepter, but I... phased out before it reached me. He looked... entertained, to say the least. Told me he’d be back for me."

The room went still, the atmosphere shifting from analytical to deeply uneasy. Natasha straightened, her gaze sharpening as she exchanged a glance with Fury.

"If that guy said that," she said, her voice steady but edged with steel, "it means he sees you as valuable. With those abilities, you’re exactly the kind of weapon he’d want to control."

A chill travelled down your spine. "So what, now I’m just some prize to be claimed?"

Fury’s voice cut through the room, cold and decisive. "We’re not letting that happen. Until we get to Stark Tower, you’re staying on this jet. No exceptions."

Before you could speak, Thor’s booming voice rang out from the doorframe. "A prize?" he repeated, stepping forward with his usual, thunderous stride. His golden hair caught the light as his eyes softened with an almost protective intensity. "You are no prize for Loki to claim. He may be cunning, but he will not have his way with you—not while I am here."

You raised an eyebrow, slightly thrown off by his earnestness. "Thanks, but I’m sure he’s got plenty of other ways to torment me."

The god of thunder's brow furrowed, as if the idea of Loki tormenting you was an affront to his very being. "You have my word, Lady... you will not be his puppet," he swore, his voice carrying the weight of Asgard's nobility.

Fury’s face remained unreadable, but his voice was firm as he turned back to you. "We're still not taking any chances. You’re staying here, safe for now. And if Loki comes back, we’ll deal with it. We need to get to Stark Tower as quickly as possible, it's the only place available with the resources to stabilize your condition. If we don’t, these dimensional instabilities could tear apart more than just this jet."

You opened your mouth to argue but stopped, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Fighting them wouldn’t change the facts. "Fine," you acquiesced, resigned that you had no other option available. "But I’m going to need food. And something to keep me from losing my mind in here."

Tony’s smirk returned, lightening the tension just slightly. "Snacks and movies, coming right up."

Despite his jab, the weight of the moment lingered. As the team drifted into hushed conversation, their words a low hum in the background, you sat quietly, your thoughts spinning.

The Tesseract had changed you and marked you in ways you couldn’t yet understand. And Loki—Loki had noticed. Whatever game he was playing, you weren’t just a spectator anymore. You were a piece on the board, and the stakes were only getting higher.

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

How exquisitely bitter the irony: one prison traded for another. If you had a nickel for every time you had been detained in the past forty-eight hours—whether conscious or not—you’d have three. A meager sum, yet one that, in the context of your current plight, was profoundly unsettling.

The monotony of your confinement gnawed at your nerves with a relentlessness that seemed to seep into your very bones, its suffocating grip tightening with every passing moment. Time itself in this sterile, airless void became an elusive specter, slipping away like sand through trembling fingers. It felt as though you had been locked in this white-washed tomb for an eternity, the walls too pristine, the air too cold, the silence too profound—a crushing weight pressing against your chest, as if the very space around you sought to drown you in its emptiness. 

Your once sharp, purposeful thoughts had shattered into disjointed fragments, fragments that drifted aimlessly in a haze of mounting frustration, their clarity dissolved like mist in a rising storm. Boredom, slow and insidious, bled into paranoia, each second stretching interminably, as though the very passage of time had turned traitor, conspiring to magnify your suffering. The silence was no refuge; it felt like a blanket too heavy and suffocating, threatening to smother the very thoughts it once cradled, to extinguish the last flickers of your sense of self.

You were on the verge of testing the limits of your power, of daring to see what lay beyond the fragile boundary of your current abilities. Maybe the Tesseract had granted you more than the simple gift of phasing in and out of reality. What if you could tear the walls apart? Warp time itself and bend space into your will? The temptation surged within you, a primal urge almost impossible to deny. 

Yet the room—engineered with cold precision to temper anomalies like yours—stood as an unyielding barrier. There was something about its design, a constant, subsonic hum in the air, a pressure against the edges of your consciousness, that suppressed your abilities, keeping them tethered like an animal on a leash. It was a constant reminder of your limitations, a cage disguised as a sanctuary.

With a scowl, you turned inward, focusing on the wound that throbbed at the center of your being: the anomaly. The term stung like salt on an open wound, grating against your very essence.

Anomaly. As if you were some broken thing, some glitch in the machinery of the universe. You were no glitch. No, you were now pure power. Raw, untamed, and beyond their—and most of all, your comprehension. The more you thought about it, the more the resentment swelled inside you, bitter and untamed. Loki. The Tesseract. S.H.I.E.L.D. All of it—how it twisted and manipulated you, how it branded you, how it reduced you to something less than human, something to be controlled, to be feared. You had never asked for this. Never sought to be a pawn in some cosmic game, dragged into a struggle far too vast to understand. And yet, here you were—trapped in this sterile cage, reduced to an "anomaly," herded into a prison of white walls and cold silence.

Everything was a lie. The world, the system, and the very purpose they had forced upon you. And finally, the anger that had been simmering beneath the surface, hidden behind the layers of fear and confusion, found its voice—a guttural growl of pure, seething bitterness lodged in your chest.

Without warning, the air itself seemed to splinter. The jet convulsed violently, as if some unseen hand had seized it, and wrenched it from its course with reckless abandon. The shockwave slammed you against the cold, unyielding metal of the wall, a violent jolt that left your limbs momentarily stunned, your body trembling in its wake. The delicate web of electric circuits, already on the edge of failure, surrendered with a crackling roar. The hiss of shorted wires split the air, and sparks erupted in wild, erratic bursts, casting a flickering, spectral glow that pulsed with a life of its own, as if the foundation of the ship was fighting to escape its confines.

In the aftermath of the disturbance, the door to your lockup—once sealed tight—groaned in protest under the weight of the disturbance. Its mechanisms, unprepared for such a violent upheaval, faltered, stuttering before finally giving way. It creaked open, the sound faint but unmistakable, its defiance ringing through the stillness like an illicit promise. For a heartbeat, you wondered if the sound was a mirage, a trick of the senses, born from the exhaustion of confinement. But no, it was real.

You weren’t meant to leave. The door wasn’t meant to open. You had been told to stay put. The order had been clear, simple, and unambiguous. Yet, here you stood, poised at the threshold, caught between obedience and instinct, as if something—some invisible force—was drawing you forward. A whisper, deep within, gnawed at your resolve, an instinct honed by years of dangerous work.

You couldn’t stay. You had to move. You had to leave.

A strange, insistent pull surged through the air—a sickening, familiar energy that brushed against your skin, tugging with a force that seemed to seep into your very bones. It was unsettling, unlike anything you had ever felt, as though the atmosphere itself was charged with anticipation, electric and restless. You could not resist. Your feet moved, step after step, as if some invisible hand guided you forward. The hallways of the jet stretched before you like a twisting labyrinth, their shadows thick and oppressive. Each movement felt deliberate, yet as if the world around you held its breath, suspended in some unknowable pause.

Adrenaline surged, flooding your veins with a jolt that quickened your pulse and set your limbs into frantic motion. Every instinct screamed at you to run, but the warning was unclear—run from what? From whom? The urgency of it felt like a call you could not answer, a compulsion you could not escape.

In the distance, the muffled shouts of agents reverberated down the corridor, their hurried steps echoing against the steel walls. Yet no one noticed. No one saw your door swing open; no one cared. 

The lack of attention only made the panic rise in your chest. Why was no one reacting? Why was it as though the world had forgotten you when you were supposed to be under the scrutiny of the highest surveillance possible? 

The jet itself seemed to tremble under the weight of unseen forces, jolting violently as if it were struggling against some invisible pressure. But you couldn’t focus on that, not now. You had to keep moving. You had to follow that strange, magnetic pull.

The sensation of that energy, that invisible tether, grew stronger, a force pulling you deeper into the heart of the ship. Each step felt heavier, as though the walls themselves were pressing in on you, narrowing your path. Your body was on high alert now, your every sense heightened, your mind a whirl of caution and confusion. And then—there he was.

Loki.

His silhouette loomed at the end of the hallway, tall and imposing, barely illuminated by the flickering lights above. His presence was unmistakable—like a black hole of power, consuming the very air around him, draining the light and warmth from the space. The energy surrounding him was palpable, cold, and twisted, making your stomach lurch.

That power. It was him. You knew it without question, yet even now, something urged you forward like a moth would to a flame. A force beyond reason, beyond understanding, that would undoubtedly leave you with burning wings should you not be careful enough.

At the far end of the corridor, Loki stood with his back turned, a dark figure framed by the erratic flickers of overhead light. The space around him rippled with alarming vigor, warping the air itself, as if the atmosphere recognized and bowed to him for who he truly was. Your pulse quickened in response, and the beat of your heart thunderous in your ears. You couldn’t stop yourself. You had to move closer.

Step by cautious step, you advanced, adrenaline coursing hot and sharp through your veins. The corridor stretched endlessly before you, dimly illuminated by flickering lights that cast jagged, restless shadows on the cold, metallic walls. It felt as though the jet itself was alive, its unseen breath mirroring the erratic rhythm of your own.

Every step you took reverberated in the oppressive stillness, each shuffle of your boots against the floor magnified into a drumbeat that echoed through the narrow passage. You moved as silently as you could, but the sound felt deafening, a betrayer of your presence, heralding your approach. The air grew heavier with every step, thick and suffocating, pressing down on you like unseen hands. You weren’t sure if it was the atmosphere—or him.

At the far end of the corridor, Loki stood like a statue carved from shadow and light, framed by the weak, flickering glow. He was still, unnervingly so, but the air around him was charged with a menace that set every nerve in your body on edge. His presence was a gravitational force all its own, exuding power so palpable it prickled across your skin like static. Your breath hitched, but something inexplicable pulled you closer, even as dread whispered at the edge of your mind.

Your steps faltered for an instant, instinct screaming for you to turn back, but the pull was merciless, driving you forward. Loki didn’t move. He remained motionless, his presence a coiled tension, a predator biding its time.

A single movement—so slight it might have been imperceptible—broke the stillness. His head tilted, just enough to send a jolt of alarm surging through you. The subtle shift in his posture was deliberate, a tightening of his shoulders that radiated the kind of precision only predators possessed. The air seemed to ripple, trembling under the weight of his awareness, as if the space itself recoiled from him.

Your body locked in place, breath frozen in your lungs. He hadn’t turned; his face remained hidden in shadow. Yet somehow, you knew. He knew. He had felt you, heard you, sensed you in a way that transcended understanding.

Time suspended. The corridor stretched infinitely in that moment, an expanse too vast to cross and yet suffocatingly narrow, leaving no room to retreat. The silence pressed down, interrupted only by the faint hum of the jet’s machinery, a sound that seemed almost mocking in its calm. Your heartbeat thundered in your chest, a frantic drumbeat that surely he could hear, though he gave no sign.

And then he moved.

The motion was almost inhuman, fluid as ink spilled into water, his form melting into the shadows with a grace so seamless it was unnerving. He didn’t glance back, didn’t speak, didn’t offer any acknowledgment of your presence. One moment he was there, his figure a looming threat at the end of the corridor—and the next, he was gone. Swallowed whole by the darkness, leaving nothing but the echo of his absence and the electric charge of a predator who had simply chosen to bide his time.

You froze, panic clawing its way up your throat. 

He was fast. Too fast.

But the irresistible temptation of the thrill remained. You had to follow.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a drum of desperation as you ran, your feet slapping against the cold metal of the jet's floor. You turned the corner, breath ragged, but when your eyes swept the hallway—nothing. It stretched on endlessly, an empty, hollow void. No sign of him. No trace.

The jet lurched beneath you, as though responding to the shift in the air, but you didn’t stop. You pushed on, driven by a force you couldn’t comprehend, only to be met with silence—unnerving, profound silence.

Loki was gone.

And yet, the feeling lingered, crawling under your skin like the echo of a distant storm. He was out there somewhere, you were sure of it—watching. Waiting. 

Your feet struck the cold metal floor with a rhythm that mirrored the frantic pulse of your heart. The jet lurched again, the walls groaning as if they too shuddered at his absence. You ran, each breath a jagged gasp, every step weighted with the gnawing certainty that you were chasing something—no, someone—into danger, right into the sharp claws of a prowler who coveted the sponsor of your essence.

Keep going. You’re almost there.

But as you reached the next turn, the hallway stretched before you, empty. An oppressive, suffocating void of quietude awaited you, curling around you like a thick fog. There was no sound, not even those of the scattered units working on the disturbances going on—no hint of movement, no trace of him. 

No Loki. Only the cold, hollow echo of your own footsteps.

A sharp, crawling panic gripped your chest, spreading out like wildfire as you spun, searching frantically—any sign, any trace of him, anything to pierce the silence. The quiet pressed in, as heavy as a weight in your ears, suffocating, making the world spin around you, dizzy and unsteady.

It was subtle at first—barely a whisper—but then the temperature dropped and the chill seeped into your bones, a cold so deep it felt almost unnatural. You thought your mind was tricking you as you saw puffs of your breath fog before you, but you definitely trusted your nerves at sensing the inevitable approach of something—someone.

The jet jolted again, harder this time, as if it too had felt the shift. The floor tilted beneath you, and the walls groaned, their strength buckling under an unseen pressure. They seemed to bend, their shape distorting unnaturally, the very corridors twisting around you. Reality stretched and warped at the edges of your vision, blurring the world into a disorienting swirl. The ground shifted, and the panels seemed to close in on you,as though space itself was contracting.

And then—there he was.

He emerged from the shadows like an omen wrapped in its cloak of darkness, all towering and sinister. He presented himself as a monolith of malice, his very being an affront to the fragile world around him. A cruel smile twisted on his lips, laced with venomous amusement that grated through the silence like the harsh screech of a violin's strings, cutting through the quietness with a sharp, discordant note. His eyes—cold as the deepest winter—shone with a sharp hunger, the glint of a predator toying with its helpless prey.

You lurched back, your pulse racing in your chest, but your legs felt heavy—as if they had switched muscles for sludge. Fear clutched at your throat, but a resolute murmur in the back of your mind propelled you forward.

Desperation seized you. You reached for it—the power that had always been your tether to survival, the force that had kept you one step ahead. You tried to summon it, tried to feel the familiar hum of energy coursing through your veins, to rip open the rift and vanish into the unknown.

But it was gone.

Panic slammed into you like a tide. You reached again, your fingers trembling, but the power slipped away, evading you like smoke, elusive and intangible. The rift shimmered on the cusp of existence—so close, so near—but something had severed the connection, leaving you stranded in a world that had turned against you.

Loki’s laugh rang out, a low, mocking sound that reverberated off the warping walls of reality. His voice, thick with dark amusement, slithered through the air, each word dripping with a promise of doom.

“Do you truly believe you can outrun me?” He mused, his eyes never leaving yours. His eyes twinkled with wicked glee as he approached, hands militaristically behind his back. “I know you’re trying to escape, but you’re trapped, agent.”

You twisted, struggling to break free, to flee, but your limbs felt frozen—rooted in place, shackled by an invisible force. His hand shot out, catching your wrist with an ironclad grip. Cold spread through your veins like ice, locking you in place and the world seemed to tilt, your body buckling under the sheer force of his touch.

“So desperate,” he tutted, his small pout dripping with mockery. The words slithered over you, as smooth as silk, as venomous as a serpent’s bite.

Before you could react, he effortlessly pulled you close, his gaze fixed on yours. The fear within you burst, suffocating your breath as his power smashed down on you, infusing you with a blackness that threatened to engulf you completely. His gaze, blank and vast, as deep as the void, pierced your very soul. The minute his stare met yours, a searing, suffocating cold swept through your chest, as if the very light within you had been sucked. His gaze seemed like a weight crushing down on you, with each second stretching into eternity and drowning your will. You could feel the tendrils of his power burrowing deep into you, twisting and corrupting, like poison coursing through your veins and chilling you from the inside out. It was as though his eyes alone were rewriting your very essence, turning you into something hollow, something lost.

“You’re mine now,” he sauntered with finality, each word laden with inevitability.

Every fiber of your existence cried out for freedom—each heartbeat a drum of urgent desire, each thought a keen, frantic claw digging at the bars of his hands. Your muscles burned with the effort of defiance; the power that had once flowed through you with effortless grace was now a raging fire under your skin, waiting to be released. You pushed with the last of your power, pushing against the iron of his grip and straining for the rift—the barrier between you and freedom.

But no matter how hard you fought, it was as if his very existence had become interwoven with yours, a smothering cloud that cut off your connection to the energy you had previously commanded. It was as if the entire area surrounding you bent to his will, denying you any outlet or opportunity of escape.

You fought for control as you saw him approach with his mind controlling weapon, whipping your arm around to summon a burst of energy. A tempest of force crackling through the space—and with a cruel twist, Loki shoved you backward, sending you crashing into the walls. 

"Well done," he applauded as your lungs heaved for oxygen at the abrupt impact. "But it will take more than that." 

You could feel your strength slipping away. Every respiration was a battle, each movement a desperate attempt to resist the crushing weight of his presence. The rift began to widen, the very fabric of reality humming with your power, vibrating with an intensity you had yet to fully understand. Using it this way—on the jet, with no true grasp of how to control it—had been reckless. But for a fleeting moment, freedom had seemed within reach, one step away from redemption.

Unfortunately, Loki was faster.

In the blink of an eye, he was upon you, his hand wrapping around your throat with a grip that threatened to crush bone. He shoved you violently against the partition of the jet, his body pressing hard into yours. Dazed, panting, you fought him with renewed fury, your will surging back to life. But his hold on reality tightened, suffocating, relentless. Every possible escape was sealed, every path to liberty shut down by the sheer force of his control.

You refused to yield.

Summoning what little force remained, you raised your free hand, unleashing a blinding burst of energy. The flash surged toward him, but rather than faltering, Loki seemed to draw strength from it, his eyes gleaming with a dark delight. The energy you unleashed only seemed to fuel the fire within him, causing ripples of chaos that sent you reeling. A dizzying wave of power knocked you off balance, your head colliding with the wall, and you struggled to stay conscious.

"You fool," Loki hissed, his voice thick with cruel disdain. He swung his scepter, striking it against the floor with an ground-shattering crack. The foundations of the jet groaned under the impact. With a flick of his wrist, the back of the scepter struck you, sending you crashing to the ground, your body jolting violently. Pain exploded through you, a shockwave of agony that seemed to reverberate in every part of you.

Gasping for air, disoriented, you looked up at him through a blur. Loki’s eyes—those merciless, fathomless eyes—were locked on you, glinting with cold amusement. A twisted smile curled at the corners of his lips, and his gaze never wavered, fixed on you with a knowing, cruel intensity.

"You cannot escape," he asserted, his voice heavy with the finality of doom. The words landed like a death sentence, woven with both victory and irrevocable defeat.

As his grip tightened once more around your throat, pulling you deeper into the inevitable, a chilling realization settled in your chest. He was right.

The world spun around you, every inch of your body screaming for freedom. But the harder you fought, the more futile it became. Loki’s power had already woven itself around you, binding you in ways you could not escape. It pulled tighter, drawing you deeper into his grasp, unraveling every thread of resistance beneath the weight of his will.

And when he smiled, it wasn’t with kindness.

It was with victory.

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

The third time you regained consciousness, you were bound to a cold, unforgiving metal chair. Your hands were shackled on the armrests as your ankles were on the joints, the skin around your wrists raw from the futile struggle. At first, everything was a blur—shapes and colors twisted together, indistinct and shifting like a dream on the edge of clarity. You blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the haze, your senses sluggish as you registered the cold, hard surface against your back, the rigid splats pressing up beneath you. A faint scent of iron mingled with something sterile, almost clinical, as though the very air itself sought to keep you at a distance from comfort.

Gradually, reality sharpened, crashing into you like a cold wave. Your heart thudded erratically in your chest, a rapid pulse that betrayed the disarray in your mind. You could feel the chains digging into your flesh, their cruel bite not nearly as unbearable as the gnawing sense of dread tightening around your chest. You were in an unfamiliar place, vulnerable, helpless—at the mercy of a god who thrived on chaos.

The scrape of boots against the floor echoed from the shadows, and instinct flared within you. You tried to move, tried to scramble toward the door, desperate to flee, but the sensation of his presence loomed heavy in the space, suffocating. Loki, that elusive god, was somewhere in the dark, and you could feel him drawing nearer.

"You disappoint me," came his voice—silky, smooth, and laced with venom. He appeared in the doorway, standing tall, his imposing figure casual yet drenched in superiority. His arms were crossed, the epitome of arrogance, but there was something more in his gaze—something darker, colder, that made the hairs on your neck stand on end.

Your stomach twisted, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away. There he was, standing in the doorway like an ominous figure straight out of a nightmare, his presence as unnerving as the storm behind his eyes.

“I thought better of you,” he continued, the words dripping with disdain. “You could have been something greater. And yet here you are—shackled and easily subdued.”

You clenched your teeth, fighting the instinct to show any sign of fear. No. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Despite the steel in your resolve, you felt a sliver of unease crawl beneath your skin. His calmness, his composure, was like a storm on the horizon—a quiet before a cataclysm.

“I’d suggest you fuck off with your unwanted opinions, serpent,” you spat, your voice hard despite the tremor beneath.

Loki raised an eyebrow, amused by your feeble resistance. He took slow steps toward you, his boots clicking against the floor with each movement. “How crude. You know, I can see it in your eyes. The fear, the doubt. You feel it, don’t you? That chaos inside of you. The power you don’t understand.” His voice dropped lower, a thread of venom coating his words. “How does it feel, to know that something so powerful is inside you, but you can’t control it? To know that it could tear you apart at any moment?”

You inhaled sharply, your breath ragged. “I’m not afraid of you.” You wished it were true. You wished you could push the fear down, but it gnawed at the edges of your mind.

“You should be.” He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curl of his lips. “But it doesn’t have to be like this.” His voice softened, growing more persuasive, coaxing. “I’m feeling rather lenient. I can help you, if you let me. I can show you how to control it, all this power inside you. You could be free—free from this constant battle, from the chaos. All you have to do is let me take it. Let me take you.”

The sincerity in his voice was almost convincing. For a split second, you found yourself lowering your guard, your eyes tinkling at the thought of release. Of peace. Of finally understanding this frightening power was wreaking havoc on your body and mind and that only a superior being—as much as you hated to admit it—could master it. A wave of temptation surged through you—his words sounded so safe, so soothing, like balm to your aching mind. It would be so easy to let him take control, to let him guide you. 

But no. You clenched your fists and forced yourself to stay grounded. “I will never let you get me.”

Loki’s smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of anger. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a mask of serenity. He tilted his head slightly, as though he were studying you, eyes narrowing as if he was peeling back the layers of your being and see into the very depths of your soul. “You’re stubborn,” he observed, almost to himself. “I understand. I know you. I know what you’ve been through, what you’ve lost. Clint Barton told me all about you, after all.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a cold shiver running down your spine. “What did he tell you?”

Loki’s lips twisted into a sly, satisfied smirk, his voice low and laced with venom. “Oh, everything. Your life, your pain, your endless losses. The way you've been forced to fight—alone—without a single soul to trust. It’s almost poetic, isn’t it? How you, of all people, found yourself at the helm of such a 'noble' unit in your precious secret services? How utterly pathetic. Righteousness... What a farce. All of you, so-called patriots, parading around like saints, when in reality, you’re nothing more than fools. Jesters, wearing masks of morality while you destroy each other in ever more barbaric, senseless ways.” 

He leaned in closer, his shadow looming over you as did the light over his head, making him appear even more menacing than he already was. “But not you, of course. You think you’re the only one who’s ever suffered, don’t you? The only one who’s ever been left to fend for themselves?”

You shook your head, but the words hit harder than you expected. “I see you, the real you.” he pursued. “You don’t have to fight it. I could be the one to guide you. I could show you how to wield that power, how to become what you were always meant to be.”

He moved then, just a step closer, and it was like the world shifted on its axis. Loki paused in front of you, his face softening just for a moment. “We’re more alike than you think.” He crouched down, bringing himself to your eye level, his gaze intense but strangely understanding. “I know what it’s like to have something inside of you—something uncontrollable, something powerful.” His eyes darkened. “I know what it’s like to be consumed by it. To feel like it could tear you apart if you don’t keep it chained.”

You blinked at him, confusion mingling with your frustration. Was this… empathy?

“I’ve been there,” he continued in a hushed manner, like he was sharing a secret with you. “You’re not the first to feel overwhelmed by power you can’t control. Believe me, I’ve spent lifetimes struggling with that very thing. But you… you’re different. You have the potential to be more. You don’t have to fight it anymore. You don’t have to suffer. Let me help you.”

Your pulse quickened, but not from the dread of what he might do next—more of because his words resonated deep within you. Every single one of them felt like a key, unlocking the very parts of you that you had spent your entire life burying through your diligent work. His voice, so soft, so knowing, slid under your skin like a lover’s caress, coaxing out the parts of you that longed to be understood.

Loki was dangerous. You knew that. But the way he spoke, the way he looked at you—he made it so easy to forget.

“I can teach you,” Loki whispered, his breath cool against your skin. He reached out, his fingers brushing gently against the chains that bound your wrists, a silent promise of liberation. “Let me show you how to embrace it. How to wield it. Let me show you what it feels like to let go.”

The words glazed on your defenses like honey, and for a moment, you thought you might give in. His gaze was so understanding, it felt like he truly cared. His hands, now resting lightly on the chains, made your hair stand on end and felt warm against your skin, a stark contrast to the cold metal. It seemed almost… familiar?

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmured, his voice almost tender. “You’ve been alone for so long, haven’t you? You don’t have to do this alone anymore. I’ll help you. Let me take control, just for a little while. I can give you peace. I can give you what you’ve always wanted.”

You tried to pull away, but the chains held you fast. Your heart raced as his words wrapped around you like a vice, and the conflict within you grew more unbearable with each passing second. Part of you wanted to scream, wanted to break free, but the rest of you… the rest of you was listening, was waiting for his touch, for the release he promised.

Was it his eyes? The way he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking before you did? Or was it the power, that seductive undercurrent to everything he did, that promised you could slip into dangerous water, without ever fully understanding the cost of drowning in it?

It was a tempting offer. Too tempting. You could almost feel the warmth of it—the weight of control that you had never known. It felt like the answer to all your struggles, all your years of pain, all the times you had been forced to fight. Could it really be that easy? All the pain, all the confusion—it could all fade away. If you just let him in. You were spiraling now, your mind reeling with the possibilities, with the allure of it. You had suffered for too long, and he made it sound so simple, so easy. You knew better. You had to.

But the temptation… God, the temptation was overwhelming.

“No.” The word felt foreign in your mouth, a last defiant breath in the face of everything he was offering. “I won’t let you control me. I won’t be like you.”

For the briefest moment, Loki’s expression flickered—like the mask of compassion he’d so carefully crafted slipped just slightly. His eyes hardened, the warmth vanishing, replaced by cold fury. The air seemed to drop ten degrees.

“You refuse?” he asked, his voice a dangerous whisper, low and menacing.

You didn’t answer, but your heart raced, the uncaged power churning beneath your skin like an unrelenting tide. Loki’s eyes narrowed, the corners of his lips curling into something between a smile and a snarl.

“Very well,” he murmured, his fingers curling into a fist. “But you don’t get to make the rules.”

Before you could react, his hand darted out like a serpent, seizing your face in a bruising grip. He leaned in, his blue eyes searing into your very soul, their intensity whispering the horrors of your darkest, most twisted nightmares into your mind, each image more agonizing than the last.

“I gave you a choice. You should have taken it.”

A burst of pain suddenly slammed into your head, a vicious wave that made you cry out, your body jerking against the chains. It was only then that you realized, far too late, that his scepter was pointed directly at your heart, the cool tip barely a breath away from your skin. The last remnants of your resistance faltered as the power of the scepter sank deeper into your being, the force of his control sinking like iron chains.

It felt like a glacial wave crashed into your mind and seeped into your thoughts. Loki’s voice was nothing but a muffled sound now, cutting through the haze in a calm and satisfied tone. “Feel that?” His eyes gleamed with sadistic delight. “That’s the power you have. The power you could have had all along. You’re mine now.”

Your thoughts were spinning, the room closing in around you. The Tesseract’s energy was flaring inside you, the raw power scrambling for control, and you could feel Loki’s influence seeping in, overtaking your thoughts, wrapping around your mind like a vice.

“No…” you gasped, weakly, trying to shake him off, but the words were swallowed by the overwhelming pressure.

“Yes,” Loki purred. “You belong to me now, and you will thank me one day. When you realize that everything I’ve done, everything I’ve shown you, was for your own good.”

With a cruel laugh, he twisted his grip, and a flood of darkness poured into you, overwhelming your mind with every painful, searing detail of his power. He controlled you—body, soul, and everything in between.

The world went black.

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

The noise of reinforcement units coming in for repairs filled the background, the steady hum of machinery punctuated by the occasional clang and whirr of tools at work. Outside the small, utilitarian debriefing room, the distant sounds of jets being repaired and refueled echoed through the corridors—a constant reminder of how close they had come to the edge. The Quinjets, once sleek symbols of precision and strength, were now battered and broken, their forms twisted by the brutal assault in the skies above. The jet bay, a hub of efficiency just hours ago, now stood as a grim testament to how quickly things could fall apart.

The room itself, stark and functional, lacked windows—its white walls offering no reprieve from the sterile atmosphere that weighed heavily on those gathered inside. A massive holographic display at the center of the room flickered with damage reports and strategic movements, casting an eerie glow across the faces of the Avengers as they processed the chaos they had just endured. The room buzzed with a quiet sense of urgency, the kind that comes when everything hangs by a thread, when the adrenaline of the mission has subsided but the aftermath still lingers in the air like a faint echo of destruction.

Natasha Romanoff paced at the front, her every step deliberate and measured, her hands clasped behind her back in a posture that suggested both authority and restraint. Her expression was unreadable, a carefully crafted mask that hid the storm beneath. Steve Rogers leaned over the table, his eyes scanning the data with practiced precision, his brow furrowed as he took stock of the damage—not just to the equipment, but to their mission, and to themselves. Tony Stark, ever the restless soul, paced nearby, his arms crossed over his chest, his face a study in concern and frustration. Bruce Banner, though seemingly calm on the surface, shifted uneasily, his eyes darting between the reports and the quiet hum of the room. His mind was still reeling from his recent transformation into the ‘Other Guy,’ and the weight of his own unpredictability hung over him.

"So, what’s the damage?" Bruce’s voice cut through the tension, his words soft but tinged with a quiet apprehension. "I’m guessing we’re not going anywhere anytime soon with the jets looking like they do."

"Repairs are underway," Natasha replied, her voice as clipped as ever, though there was a flicker of exhaustion in her tone. "We’ll be fine for a short-term flight, but it’ll take some time before we’re combat-ready."

Clint Barton, standing near the glass overlooking the hangar, gave a tired shrug, his face etched with the weariness of battle. His hand brushed across his brow, wiping away the sweat that had accumulated there, and he nodded toward the Quinjets in the distance. "Well, if you’re asking if we can leave anytime soon, I’d say no. We’re grounded for now. That one over there..." He gestured toward the wreckage of the Quinjet, its tail section reduced to a mangled heap of metal and fire. "It’s a total loss. We’re looking at days of repairs."

Tony shot a glare at the nearby repair bay through the glass, his mind already working at full speed as he assessed the damage. His eyes traced the outline of the battered Quinjets, the destruction evident in every twisted part. But as much as the sight of the wreckage stirred a sense of frustration, it wasn’t what had his blood boiling.

"Great," he muttered, his voice thick with resentment. "We’re grounded for the time being, and half the damn world’s going to burn because I’m stuck here playing babysitter. Meanwhile, Fury’s getting more irritable by the second."

"Fury’s always irritable," Clint quipped, though his tone lacked the usual bite, his words more a fact than a joke.

Steve’s eyes narrowed as he stood, hands resting on the table, his jaw clenched. "That’s not what’s bothering him, though. We’ve all seen how he’s been. This isn’t just about the mission—it’s personal for him. He feels guilty about her."

"Who, the agent?" Natasha asked, her voice sharp with curiosity. "Why would he feel guilty about her?"

"Because he let her go," Steve answered, shaking his head slowly. "He’s the one who pushed her into the field. He’s the one who didn’t anticipate Loki going after her like this. Fury’s the one who’s responsible for her being on the front lines. And Phil..." His voice trailed off, the mention of Phil Coulson’s name cutting through the room like a cold gust of wind. The weight of his death hung in the air, a shadow that none of them could escape.

Clint’s face hardened, his gaze flickering to Natasha before he broke the silence. "Loki’s got her, right?" His voice was low, raw with the weight of his own regret. "I remember him asking me about her, pressuring me for information. Something about turning her into his prize warrior. I didn’t realize how far he’d already gone." His words lingered in the air, filled with the sting of failure.

Natasha’s eyes darkened, a sharp edge creeping into her voice. "Whatever Loki’s done to her, it’s more than we’ve seen. It’s safe to assume he’s fully gained control of her now."

Tony’s mind raced, his thoughts tangled with the anxiety gnawing at his insides. "And what happens if he unleashes her powers? I’ve seen what she’s capable of—teleportation, molecular distortion. She could level an entire city if she’s pushed far enough." The grim reality of what they were up against settled in the pit of his stomach.

There was a moment of silence, the weight of Tony’s words hanging heavily in the room as they all considered the consequences. Bruce was the first to speak, his voice low but resolute. "We can’t let that happen. We have to intercept her before Loki does more damage. Before... she does more damage."

The room fell into a heavy silence again, each person lost in their own thoughts. The stakes were higher than they had ever been before, and the uncertainty of what lay ahead weighed on them all.

Finally, Tony broke the silence, his voice tinged with bitterness. "So, where are we going?"

Steve’s gaze met his, determination flickering behind his blue eyes. "We’re going to your tower."

Clint raised an eyebrow, confusion briefly flashing across his face. "The Stark Tower? Why there?"

"Because it’s the perfect place for Loki," Steve replied with certainty. "The guy thrives on theatrics, on flair. Stark Tower has the kind of symbolism he’d love. It’s big, bold—exactly the kind of place he’d make his base."

Tony’s eyes widened slightly as realization set in. "You’re thinking what I’m thinking?"

"If she’s there, we’ll have the best chance of getting her back," Steve continued, his voice steady with purpose. "And if Loki’s there, it’s the place where we’ll have the best shot of stopping him."

Tony sighed, rubbing his temples as the weight of it all bore down on him. "Alright, but we need to hurry. The longer we wait, the more dangerous this becomes. And with her powers, we don’t know how much time we have before..." His words trailed off, unspoken fears hanging in the air.

"Before she becomes a weapon we can’t stop," Natasha finished for him, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Her resolve was unwavering, her eyes sharp with determination.

Tony tapped a few commands into his wrist console, and a hologram flickered to life. "I’m sending the signal to Thor. If anyone’s going to be able to face Loki head-on, it’s him. We need to have him on standby in New York, ready to come to our aid if this goes sideways."

Steve nodded. "We have to be ready for anything. Loki won’t make this easy, and he’s always got a trick up his sleeve."

Clint nodded grimly, his jaw tight as he looked toward the hangar, his mind already on the mission ahead. "Yeah, well, it’s not like we’re giving him a choice. We’ll be there, we’ll find her, and we’ll stop this before it gets any worse."

Nick Fury stood outside the briefing room, pacing with impatience, his mind a blur of conflicting thoughts. The guilt that had been building in his chest for days threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this was somehow his fault—that by putting you on the front lines, by sending you into this mission, he had given Loki the perfect opening to manipulate you. He had created the perfect weapon for him.

“Damn it,” Fury muttered under his breath, his words sharp and biting. “I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve known what would happen. I’m the one who signed off on this. I’m the one who put her in harm’s way.” The thought of you, of your powers, your vulnerability—haunted him. But it wasn’t just you that gnawed at him.

Phil. The name seared through him like a burning coal. His jaw clenched, and the memory of Phil Coulson’s lifeless form flashed before his eyes, a haunting reminder of another failure, another loss. The weight of it all pressed down on him, and he couldn’t escape it.

The Avengers emerged from the briefing room, their faces set in grim determination, but Fury remained frozen, consumed by the suffocating weight of his guilt. His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his eyepatch, the sting of failure cutting deep. If it wasn’t already too late, they were going to have to fight harder than ever before.

And God knows how you were faring up.

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

The fourth time you came back to your senses, a strange sensation overtook you, an out-of-body experience that felt almost too literal. For a fleeting moment, the world seemed to stretch away, like you were hovering above it, distanced from your own existence. You watched as events unfolded, disembodied and detached, your mind observing from an unfamiliar perspective. The space around you was no stranger—it was cold, metallic, the steady hum of energy vibrating in the air. Yet it felt as though you weren’t fully tethered to reality, as if something in you was pulled just out of reach of the present.

Loki’s influence lingered, like a shadow veiling your thoughts, a faint pressure that continued to tighten around your consciousness. But it was different this time, less suffocating, as though you could almost stretch your fingers and reclaim your mind, resetting it, pushing the fog of his control aside. It wasn’t complete freedom, but it was a crack—a hint that you could break through.

It had been a few days since the takeover. The sensation of being mind-controlled was nothing like you had imagined. It wasn’t some visible force pressing down on you, suffocating you with weight. It was far more insidious—a creeping intrusion that slid under your skin and flowed through your veins, weaving its way into the very fabric of your mind. It was a whisper at first, a soft murmur against your will, growing louder, more forceful until it became a wave that swallowed your thoughts whole, drowning you in its depth. The overwhelming sensation was like drowning in your own mind, fighting for air that was constantly out of reach.

Each flicker of resistance you managed to summon was met with a violent recoil, an electric shock that surged through your brain, disorienting you. Your vision swam, fractured between moments, reality blurring and snapping back in quick, disorienting flashes. You tried to hold onto yourself, to anchor your sense of identity, but each struggle only seemed to tighten Loki’s grip. There were no chains, no physical restraints—just a far more personal, insidious force that felt like an extension of him, an inescapable presence that filled your mind, shaping you, controlling you.

And Loki… He was everywhere, his influence like a suffocating cloak, draped over your every thought. His power radiated around you, inside you, as if it had seeped into your very bones. His presence was relentless, constantly guiding, twisting, and reshaping you in his image. He wasn’t simply a teacher, not in any traditional sense. He wasn’t trying to help you understand your power. No, he was breaking you down—remaking you in the process.

Training under him was nothing short of grueling. Each session felt like an endurance test, an ordeal that pushed you to the edge of your capabilities. Every command he issued, every flick of his wrist was an exercise in both frustration and fear. You were nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game, subjected to his whims as he tested your limits in mock battles, moving with predatory grace, sizing you up. This was no place for nurturing or protection. He wasn’t here to teach you; he was here to force you to become something more—something stronger, something more deadly. Every sparring match felt like a war of attrition, each blow a reminder of your own fragility, each movement an attempt to break you down, mold you into something that would serve his whims.

But then, in moments that made no sense, he’d pause. His usually cold, calculating demeanor would crack for just a fleeting moment, revealing something tender and nearly unrecognizable. There were times when he would brush a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering a moment too long, as though he could feel the weight of your exhaustion, your pain. He would offer you a drink of water, his eyes scanning your face, searching for signs of weakness, yet almost as if he cared. His voice would lower, just slightly, when he spoke to you, as though offering words of encouragement, though veiled with the same cutting edge of superiority that tainted everything else he said.

In those brief, inexplicable moments, you found yourself warming up to him in a sickening way. It twisted in your gut, a dangerous familiarity that began to seep into your thoughts. When he offered small, rare gestures of clemency, like letting you rest or even acknowledging your progress, you couldn’t help but feel something shift within you—a fragile connection that you knew should never be there, that you hated for being there.

You hated that you somehow felt a semblance of comfort in his proximity, even in those rare, fleeting instances when he allowed you to see a hint of his true self, when he was almost... kind. But that kindness was always tainted with a darkness you couldn’t ignore, a reminder that beneath the surface, he was the same ruthless god who controlled you, who tested you, who owned you.

It was dangerous. It was the most dangerous thing you’d ever felt. But you couldn’t stop it.

You would never admit it, not even to yourself. But deep down, the quiet warmth he showed—however brief—had you questioning if there was a part of him that truly saw you, beyond the pawn. And in that sickening realization, you knew that this power he wielded over you wasn’t just physical; it was psychological, emotional. And you suspected this exact power wasn’t even his to begin, more like he was a slave to it. The lines between torment and care blurred in ways that left you confused, torn between your desire for freedom and the strange, almost intimate connection that had begun to grow, against your will, in the shadows of his manipulation.

The first time you phased through the air, an accident in the chaos of the training, Loki’s smirk was immediate. “That’s it,” he languildly praised, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You’re beginning to grasp it. But you’ll need to master it fully. Let me push you further.”

Before you could process his words, he was upon you, commanding you to fight. There was no hesitation, no room for doubt in his voice—it was an order, and your body obeyed without thought. Your movements were fluid, unnatural, like a puppet whose strings were pulled by forces beyond your control. Weightlessness flooded your mind, and before you could fully understand it, you phased again, reappearing inches from him. The amusement in his eyes was evident, but it was not pride—it was a predator's pleasure.

“You’ll need to be faster,” Loki remarked in an unforgiving tone. “Faster. You’re too slow. I expected more. Show me the depth of your power, or will you disappoint me?”

You had no choice but to obey.

You lashed out, your limbs moving with a speed you could barely comprehend. Power surged through your veins like liquid fire, filling you with both exhilaration and terror. The world around you seemed to blur, the space itself warping as you teleported again, this time behind him. But before you could register your success, he was ready, his body already turning, hands outstretched. In an instant, you found yourself caught in a vortex of his power, the space around you twisting and pulling you into a storm of his will.

“You’ll need to understand this more fully before you even think of using it against me,” Loki said coldly. With a casual flick of his hand, your body froze in mid-air, held by the invisible grip of his power. Every inch of you was locked in place, the pulse of your own abilities stifled by his sheer force.

Inside your mind, you screamed. You fought, clawing at your thoughts, trying to regain control, but Loki’s mind was a labyrinth, and you were lost within it. Each attempt to break free sent shockwaves of pain through your head, the weight of his presence pressing down on your neural pathways until they felt like they might snap under the strain.

“Still resisting?” His eyes gleamed with malicious pleasure as he approached. “This is nothing. Wait until I truly unleash it.”

And that was when you understood. He wasn’t teaching you. He wasn’t trying to help you. He was breaking you.

But there was a flicker—a momentary lapse, a crack in the control. And in that instant, you phased again. It was instinct now, not power, that guided you. You broke free of his hold, stepping back, your mind screaming in defiance. You didn’t know how you did it, but in that one brief, desperate moment, you reclaimed a piece of yourself.

Loki’s smile faltered. His eyes narrowed, irritation flaring in his gaze. “You think your little tricks can free you from my control?” he spat. “You are mine—body and soul. You’ll bend to my will. You’ll master your powers—not because you want to, but because I will make you.”

His biting words struck deep, but there was something else in his eyes. Something more than just control. A flicker of something deeper—something he was desperately trying to hide. You didn’t have the strength to confront it, not yet. But somewhere, deep in the dark corners of your untouched subconscious, you swore you’d fight. Even if it meant destroying yourself in the process.

Loki came at you again, faster this time, his movements precise, fluid, each strike a test of your endurance, each attack a deeper push into your limits. But with every blow, you saw more. More of the man beneath all of the godliness. More of what made him tick. What made him… human, for the lack of a better term.

For the first time since your powers had awakened, you weren’t completely afraid. You were scared, yes. Terrified, even. But you were also intrigued. You needed to understand him. You had to. It wasn’t just about breaking free anymore. It was about finding what layed beneath the surface. What drove him to wield such raw, unrelenting power.

And maybe, just maybe, you could use it against him.

As the god pushed you further, you began to realize just how far you’d come. The simple act of teleporting had become a foundation—a means to control space itself. You had only begun to understand your abilities, but now, under Loki’s relentless training, you were beginning to unravel the layers of power that the Tesseract had gifted you.

“Focus,” his voice sliced through the fog in your mind. It was sharp, commanding, precise. “Control it. Master every aspect. Your power is disorganized, but it can be more. It can be your weapon, your shield. Learn to wield it.”

With a flick of his hand, he sent a burst of energy hurtling toward you. Instinctively, you phased through it, the familiar sensation of weightlessness taking over as you reappeared a few feet away.

“Good,” Loki murmured. But there was no approval in his voice. Only calculation. “But you’re still holding back.”

You glared at him, frustration building in your chest. How could you not hold back? Every time you unleashed that power, it felt like you were teetering on the edge of something far darker, something that could consume you. You didn’t know where it would take you—or what you would destroy in the process.

Loki saw it, of course. The hesitation. The uncertainty in your eyes. He raised a brow, his lips curling into a smirk. “What? You think you can’t handle it? That you’ll lose control?”

“I’m not afraid of losing control,” you shot back, your voice wavering despite your defiance. “I’m afraid of what happens when I don’t.”

The smirk on his face deepened, his eyes calculating, as if he were deciding just how far he could push you. “You have no idea what true power feels like. You’re afraid of its potential. But that fear is what’s holding you back.”

With a casual flick of his hand, he created barriers around you, walls of energy that hummed with his power.

“Break them,” he commanded.

You couldn’t wait to see how far you could push him.

The walls around you shimmered, their surface unnatural, like liquid glass caught in perpetual motion. They weren’t walls in the traditional sense; they were space itself, bending and warping as though it was alive. The air grew heavy, charged with invisible tension. You stared at them, willing yourself to see, to understand.

And then, in a flash of clarity, it hit you.

This wasn’t just about moving from one point to another. This was something far greater. You could feel it now—the infinite potential swirling within you. It wasn’t merely about stepping through the fabric of space; it was about bending it to your will. The molecules around you, so subtle and elusive moments ago, now felt tangible, pliable. You could rearrange them, reshape them. This wasn’t just teleportation. This was the ability to reshape matter itself.

You extended your hand, trembling slightly as you reached toward the shimmering walls. The strain in your head was immediate, but it was an exhilarating kind of pain, like the edge of a storm waiting to break. The air around you rippled in response, and slowly, the walls began to shift. Small rifts, windows into other spaces, opened like jagged wounds in the room’s fabric. You gasped softly, watching as they revealed glimpses of places far from here—a corner of the room, an entirely different plane.

A portal blossomed before you, its edges glowing faintly as it stabilized. The tear in space stretched outward, showing the opposite side of the chamber.

Loki’s eyes widened, the faintest flicker of surprise breaking through his composed mask. He recovered quickly, a slight smirk curling his lips as he took a step forward. “Passable,” he grumbled, though his usual amusement was absent. His voice was sharper now, edged with something colder. “But don’t get cocky.”

His words struck you like a challenge, daring you to push further. You clenched your jaw, determination flaring in your chest. With a mental snap, you pulled the rift closed, the portal dissolving into nothingness. The room settled again, but the air still vibrated with your energy.

You turned your focus inward. The molecules around you felt alive, humming with energy as though waiting for your command. You could almost taste their vibration, their power. Extending your hand again, you exhaled slowly, this time pulling not to open but to still. The energy around you tightened, and with a rush of intent, the space itself froze.

The room went utterly still. Objects suspended mid-motion, their trajectories arrested in a silent tableau. Even your own breath faltered, caught in a moment of frozen time. You stood in the center of it all, holding the room together by sheer force of will. The power surged through you, intoxicating and overwhelming all at once. For a brief, flickering moment, you allowed yourself to bask in it.

Until Loki moved.

Of course, he was never one to let his adversaries savor victory for long. With a flick of his hand, he sent a barrage of objects hurtling toward you, shattering the stillness. You reacted instinctively, the power in you surging again. The air around you obeyed your silent command, freezing the projectiles mid-air before they could strike.

“Not bad,” the raven-haired remarked, though his voice was colder now, a faint hint of disappointment lacing his words. “But you still don’t understand. You’re holding back. You haven’t learned to truly channel it.”

You felt it then—his presence pressing against your mind like an unseen force, urging you forward, demanding more. The pressure built, an oppressive weight you couldn’t ignore.

And so, you gave in.

The next wave of energy he hurled at you didn’t stop. It didn’t freeze. Instead, it absorbed into you, the force coursing through your body like molten metal. Your veins felt alive, filled with raw, chaotic power. The intensity was almost too much, threatening to split you apart, but you held on. And then, without thinking, you redirected it.

A pulse of energy exploded outward, aimed squarely at Loki. The impact sent him staggering back, a rare moment of imbalance breaking his usual grace. His head tilted slightly, his expression unreadable as he stared at you.

“You… redirected it?” he asked, his voice quieter now, tinged with something you couldn’t place.

Panting, you nodded, the strain catching up to you. The energy of the Tesseract pulsed within you, wild and untamed. It had given you the ability to absorb and harness attacks, but the cost was steep. Your body felt like it was burning, every muscle trembling with the effort of holding it together.

“That’s enough,” Loki commanded, his voice devoid of emotion, yet carrying an undeniable finality that echoed through the tense air. Your legs buckled beneath you, your head spun with a nauseating dizziness, and your arms felt as though they were made of lead. The world around you seemed to melt away, the edges of your vision blurring into a cacophony of shifting shadows.

It was then that it happened—the flicker.

For the briefest of moments, you felt yourself again, as if your very essence had returned to you. The sensation of shifting between spaces, phasing in and out, was familiar, grounding. The molecular alteration that had become second nature to you—an innate force deep within your cells—began to reset your mind. It was only a heartbeat, a small second where Loki’s overwhelming grasp on your thoughts loosened, allowing you a sliver of clarity. 

The flickers grew more frequent, the moments of clarity more profound. Each time your molecules unraveled and reassembled, your thoughts sharpened, became clearer, more lucid. The oppressive fog that Loki had woven over your mind peeled away, layer by layer, leaving you with sharp clarity—if only for mere instants.

You didn’t understand it. You didn’t know why it worked, but you clung to those fleeting moments as if they were your lifeline. Each time you phased, you felt something inside you shift, like your brain was being reset, free of the chains he had bound you with. And in those moments, as your clarity returned, you found yourself watching him.

Not just observing him as an enemy or a captor, but seeing him—his every movement, the tension in his shoulders, the subtle tremor in his hands. You noticed the cracks that began to form in his facade. His orders, once laced with effortless authority, now carried an undercurrent of something else—frustration, hesitation, or maybe even doubt. His piercing gaze, so sure and unyielding, sometimes lingered on you for a moment too long, as though searching for something he could not name.

In one of your moments of freedom, you couldn’t help yourself.

“Why do you do this?” Your voice, low but steady, cut through the tense silence of the room, hanging in the air like a challenge.

Loki froze, his step faltering as the flickering light of the room cast jagged shadows across his face. He slowly turned to you with an unreadable expression. “Do what exactly?” His voice was dangerously soft, but the hint of something darker lingered beneath the surface.

“This,” you pointedly said, your hand sweeping between the two of you, gesturing vaguely to the invisible war that raged. “The mind games. The controlling. Why do you hide behind this power of yours? What even is your point in all of this?”

A tight, humorless smile curled at the corners of his lips, but his eyes, those eyes that once burned with amusement, darkened with something far less playful. “Careful,” he warned, his voice a venomous whisper. “You’re treading on thin ice.”

But the words were already out of you, spilling faster than you could control. “You act like you’re untouchable, like you’re above all of this, but you’re not. You’re hiding. From what, I don’t know, but I see it. Every time I phase out of your control, I see it. You’re just as trapped as I am, aren’t you?”

The air around you both shifted. It grew heavier, dense with the weight of the unspoken. The silence stretched, thickening with the tension of your accusation. Loki’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. His gaze flickered for the briefest moment—pain, raw and unguarded. It flashed so quickly, you almost wondered if you had imagined it. But it was there, and it was real.

Then it was gone, replaced by cold, seething fury.

“Silence,” he hissed, his voice low,dangerous. “You presume to know me? To understand me? You, a pawn caught in a game far beyond your comprehension?” His power surged around him, crackling with energy as the room seemed to vibrate with the intensity of his presence. The air around him felt as if it were bending under the pressure, each word carrying the weight of a threat you could almost taste.

But before he could act, you phased.

The sensation was like slipping through water, the atoms of your body rearranging with effortless grace as you disappeared and reappeared on the far side of the room. Loki’s gaze whipped toward you, a mix of surprise and fury painting his face.

“You will not defy me,” he snapped, his voice cutting through the air like a whip.

“Oh, but I think I just did,” you shot back, your grin widening as you phased again, this time landing on a ledge above him. “What’s the matter, boss? Losing your touch?”

He whirled toward you, his composure unraveling with every word, every flicker of movement. “You dare mock me?” His voice trembled with barely contained rage.

You phased again, this time directly behind him. “I think I just did that too,” you replied, your voice dripping with insolence. 

His hand shot out, crackling with energy, but you were already gone before he could even touch you. Each time you phased, his control weakened, and with it, his mask began to slip.

“Enough of this nonsense!” Loki bellowed, his voice echoing through the chamber as his magic lashed out, sending another pulse of energy to the space you had just vacated.

But you were already gone, phased to the other side of the room. You couldn’t suppress the laugh that bubbled up as you taunted him. “Not used to someone slipping through your fingers, yeah?”

He lunged toward you, his hand glowing with power. But once again, you phased out of his reach, reappearing behind him with maddening ease.

It was working. You could see it in the way his movements grew sharper, more erratic. His control, his perfect composure, was beginning to unravel. And for the first time since your capture, you felt like you were in control.

“Stop this!” he roared, his voice cracking on the edges of his fury.

“Why?” you taunted, your tone almost teasing now, every word cutting through the tension like a blade. “Are you afraid of what I might do? Or are you afraid of what this says about you?”

“I am warning you,” he snarled, his voice trembling, the power crackling in the air. “Do not push me further.”

You took a step forward, closing the distance between you with deliberate defiance. “Or what?” you challenged, your voice softer, but no less cutting. “I don’t need to understand you to see the truth. You’re unraveling, Loki. Just like I am. And the more you push me, the more I see it.”

Something snapped in him then. In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance, gripping your arm with bruising force, his presence suffocating, his eyes alight with barely contained fury. You thought, for a fleeting moment, that he might break you—his force pressing down on you like a vice.

But then, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your throat—not tight enough to choke, but enough to remind you of his strength.

“You forget your place,” he growled, his voice a deadly whisper, every word dripping with menace. “I could end you with a thought.”

You gulped at the threat, your heart hammering in your chest, but you refused to look away. Even as his grip tightened, even as his power bore down on you like a mountain, you held your ground.

“Then do it,” you finally said, your voice trembling but resolute. “If you want me silent so badly, then end it. But we both know you won’t. You need me.”

His breath hitched and for a moment, he looked at you like you were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. The tension in his grip faltered, just barely, before he yanked his hand away as though your very touch burned him. His sharp intake of air was the only sound that punctuated the quiet between you, a pause that felt longer than it should.

“You are insufferable,” he spat, though his tone lacked the earlier venom, the conviction of his anger dimmed. “Your defiance will be your undoing.”

An almost weary defiance burned in your chest as you rubbed your neck where his fingers had left their mark, a small, throbbing reminder of his touch. “Maybe,” you said softly, eyes never leaving his. “But it might just be yours too.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line, a mark of something teetering on the edge of unsaid utterances. With deliberate slowness, he took a step forward. His movements were predatory, as though he was testing your resolve. His gaze drilled into yours with such intensity that you could feel it like a physical weight against your skin, an invisible pressure that seemed to hollow out your lungs. He was close now—so close that his breath, warm and almost tangible, mingled with yours. His presence surrounded you, overwhelming, filling every corner of the space. 

The adrenaline that had fueled your defiance started to dissipate, leaving a quiet exhaustion in its wake. The fight had drained more from you than you cared to admit. With a sigh, you took a few steps back and sank to the floor, your knees folding under you as you sat cross-legged, your shoulders sagging with the weight of fatigue.

“I’m tired,” you muttered, running a hand through your hair as if the action could somehow soothe the tremors beneath your skin.

Loki stood motionless, his chest rising and falling with the effort of suppressing the raw emotions that were still simmering beneath the surface. His hands hung at his sides, fingers twitching faintly, as if they couldn’t decide whether to lash out at you or reach for something instead. His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing every inch of your weary form as though searching for something he couldn’t name, something you didn’t even understand.

“You’re persistent, I’ll grant you that,” he said finally, his voice low, the words sharp, though they carried a hint of curiousness beneath the surface.

You glanced up at him, too drained for anything other than the bitter truth of the moment. “Persistent? Coming from you, that’s almost a compliment,” you retorted, the wryness in your tone at odds with the ache that seemed to consume every inch of your body.

A twitch at the corner of his mouth and a faint softening in his gaze passed quickly over his face. It was gone in an instant, buried beneath his practiced mask of indifference. “Hardly,” he corrected, his tone clipped as he stepped closer. “It’s an observation. You’re like a moth flitting toward the flame, heedless of the danger.”

You leaned back on your palms, tilting your head to meet his gaze, the spark of defiance still stubbornly burning. “And you’re the flame, I suppose? Burning everything you touch because it’s easier than admitting you’re just as fragile as the rest of us.”

His jaw clenched, a brief flicker of something raw flashing across his face—anger, pain, or perhaps both. “You presume too much,” he said, his voice cold, though it lacked the sharpness it had carried earlier.

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “Maybe. But you’re not as good at hiding as you think you are. You wear the mask well, Loki, but it slips. And when it does… I can see you.”

His expression quickly hardened, though his lips were still tight with something you couldn’t quite place. “You see only what I allow you to see. Do not mistake my mercy for weakness.”

You raised an eyebrow, your gaze unwavering. “Mercy? Is that what you call this?” You gestured vaguely around the room, your words cutting through the tension. “Because it feels more like a war of wills.”

His figure loomed closer still until his boots nearly brushed your knees. He hovered over you, his shadow swallowing you whole, yet there was something in his posture now that lacked malice. “You speak as though you know me, as though you understand the choices I’ve made,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “But you don’t. You can’t.”

You met his gaze, unfaltering. “You’re right,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. “I don’t know you. Not really. But I see enough to know there’s more to you than this…” you searched for the right word, your voice soft yet firm, “performance.”

A raw and unguarded emotion crossed his face for the briefest of moments before he suppressed it. “I don’t need your pity,” he said, the sharpness of his words dulled, the usual bite missing from his voice. “Or your insights.”

“It’s not pity,” you said quietly. “Curiosity, maybe. Frustration, definitely. You’re not just a villain, Loki. Actually, I don’t think you ever wanted to be one in the first place.”

He scoffed, though it lacked the conviction it usually held. “And what would you know of my wants? Of my purpose?” The bitterness in his tone was sharper now, though his words seemed to betray more of a wound than venom.

You gave him a small, tired smile, the weariness of the moment tempered by a fragile understanding. “Not much. But I know enough to say this: I don’t think you’re as evil as you want people to think you are. And if you weren’t on the wrong side of all this…” You hesitated, then shrugged, a glimmer of misplaced hope in your voice. “I think I could’ve been your friend.”

It was like a chord struck in the dark. Loki stared at you, his expression unreadable, yet his eyes betrayed a whirlwind of emotions—shock, confusion, and… vulnerability. “A friend?” he repeated, the word tasting foreign on his tongue, almost as though it were a language he hadn’t spoken in centuries. 

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. A friend.”

He was Loki—an outcast, a trickster, recently a monster in his own eyes. Friendship was not for him, not for someone like him. Yet here you were, offering him a concept he had long dismissed as alien. Your words were not a gift—no, not in his mind. They were a lie. A cruel jest. But something about them, about the way you said it, seemed to unsettle him just a little.

His hand twitched at his side, and for a moment, you thought he might reach out—reach for you. But instead, he stayed still, his gaze filled with something he couldn’t quite name. Then, like a crack forming in his ironclad armor, he spoke, his voice low, barely a whisper against the silence between you.

“You are a fool.”

The words stung, yet you didn’t flinch. Instead, you met his gaze, unyielding. “And you’re a liar,” you softly countered. “But you’re not that bad. Or at least, I’d like to think so.”

For the briefest of heartbeats, the world seemed to still around you. The invisible tension pulled you closer even as his walls, so meticulously built, held you apart.

Then, like a thunderclap in the midst of a quiet storm, it happened. A sharp, involuntary twitch in his jaw. His expression faltered, his usual composure slipping away for a moment, leaving him raw, exposed. His body jerked violently, a sharp intake of breath escaping him, and his hand flew to his temple, clutching as though something inside him was unraveling. A guttural sound ripped from his chest.

"What’s wrong?" you instinctively asked, concern lacing your voice despite the turmoil in your own chest.

"Silence," he hissed through clenched teeth, but there was no venom behind the words—only a desperate plea. His gaze snapped to yours, vulnerable and raw for just a fraction of a second. In those fleeting seconds, desperation passed through his eyes, a storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. The sight of it made your chest tighten, a jagged breath catching in your throat.

"What’s happening?" you pressed, your voice softer now, hesitant, unsure if you were even allowed to breach this moment. "Let me—"

"Quiet!" His voice shattered the fragile silence, a barked command that reverberated with cold authority. His hand fell from his temple, but the movement were jerky and unnatural, as though he were trying to force himself back into the rigid state he had been in for the past few days. His posture straightened, and the ice that had replaced his features now belied the chaos brewing beneath, his eyes betraying him with a tornado of clashing thoughts.

"You should not concern yourself with things you cannot comprehend," he accused, his voice sharper than before, yet it wavered at the edges, a crackling vulnerability buried in the syllables. He took a step back, his movements stiff, as if his body itself were rebelling against the order he demanded.

Before you could respond, he stretched his hand out, a flash of blue energy spiraling from the scepter nestled in his palm as it hummed ominously in the air. "You are far too meddlesome," he declared, his voice cold, detached, though the tremor beneath it betrayed his growing frustration. "I think it’s time we corrected that."

The energy hit you like an avalanche, its cold tendrils sinking deep into your mind before you could even react. It was different this time. Stronger. The force of it suffocating, relentless—consuming. It swallowed every fragment of your thoughts, your will, your very sense of self, leaving no room for resistance.

It was as though he had learned from your earlier defiance, amplifying his grip until there was no escape.

A gasp tore from your throat as the world around you blurred, dissolving into a haze of chilling disorientation. Your vision spiraled, your thoughts scattered in every direction, unable to hold onto anything. Somewhere beneath the overwhelming force of his control, the faintest flicker of your consciousness lingered—but it was distant, buried beneath layers of icy, impenetrable control.

And through the haze, you could still feel him—watching, observing. You could see his hands trembling ever so slightly as he gripped the scepter with an almost desperate force. His face was a mask of unrelenting authority, but his eyes—his eyes held something else entirely. Frustration. Anger. And beneath it all, something undeniably close to regret. For a moment, the scepter’s glow dimmed, as though he hesitated—but it was only for a moment. The unsureness passed and his grip tightened once again, the power surging back to full force, driving you deeper into submission.

"You will not defy me again," he sharply stated, yet unable to conceal the faint tremor beneath them. It was a promise, or perhaps a threat. But as he spoke, a mournful aftertaste lingered, a whisper that could hardly be heard over the pounding of your heart. Loki lowered the scepter slowly, his chest rising and falling as if he had just waged a battle—and won. His gaze lingered on you for a long, silent moment before he spoke again.

"You will remain here," he announced, and the words were not just a command but an ominous finality. "Until I decide what to do with you."

He turned then, almost mechanically—as though his body, too, were beginning to betray him. His footsteps echoed in the room, hollow and final, but just as he reached the door, something halted him. His hand hovered over the frame, the faintest dubiousness in his posture as his eyes found yours again.

In the silence of the room, you stood there, frozen, helpless under his command. Your body obeyed him, no longer your own, while your mind screamed in rebellion, trapped in the suffocating grip of his mind control. Your eyes dulled with the weight of the scepter’s influence, and somewhere deep within, a faint ember of your will still flickered, but it was too weak—too far gone to challenge the force consuming you.

He paused, his lips pressing into a thin line, his expression conflicted. For a heartbeat, something almost tender passed between you, but then it vanished, replaced by the hard, unrelenting figure he had built himself into.

"You shouldn’t have followed me," he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost wistful. "It would have been easier for the both of us."

And with that, he was gone. The door closed behind him with a dull finality, its low thud echoing in the silent room like a death knell that reverberated in your chest. Loki leaned against the cold metal wall outside, his back rigid as though the weight of the universe had settled on his shoulders. The scepter trembled faintly in his grasp, the gemstone atop it glowing softly, a faint pulse of light that seemed to reflect the last remnants of a power that bound you both—cosmically, inevitably—together. It was the final tether between you, a cruel connection that neither of you could escape, no matter how far you tried to run. 

The power he had once thought would offer him control was now a cruel mistress, bending his will like a fragile branch in a typhoon. He had sought to vainquish, to conquer, but now he was its prisoner. He could feel the grip of the mind binding tightening, its influence sinking deep into his bones. It promised him everything: power, control, victory. But it demanded something in return. His freedom. His agency. And now, it had even begun to take from him his character.

And you… you were the proof of that.

Loki closed his eyes, his breath uneven, his heart beating like a drum in his chest. A single tear escaped from the corner of his eye, trailing down his face like the last vestige of something long lost. Friend. The word you had spoken earlier echoed in his mind, foreign and unwelcome. He had no use for such things. Glory, domination—those were the only truths he understood. Sentiment, compassion, kindness—these were weaknesses to be eradicated. Yet, there you were. A living contradiction. For a quiet instance, you had defied everything he had ever known, everything he had ever believed.

The god reopened his eyes to glance down at the scepter in his hand. The cold, alien light pulsed with intent, one that he could not decipher but could feel deep in his bones. He hated it. He hated everything it stood for. The whispers it carried, the promises it made, the power it offered—it had taken everything from him. And yet, there was no escaping it. He could not let it go, because the Tesseract, the scepter, wasn’t just power. It was survival. His survival.

He took a step away from the wall, his movements stiff, mechanical, as though he were some puppet on strings. No different from you. No different from anyone who had dared to touch the infinite and had been torn apart in the process. The golden instrument was a testament to his burden, his curse—his salvation and his undoing.

As Loki strode down the corridor, the cool metal floor beneath his boots clicking rhythmically, the tear on his cheek had already dried, leaving behind only the bitter taste of a fading regret. He had made his choice, and there was no turning back. The scepter had ensured that.

In the cold, hollow silence that stretched out before him, he knew one thing with terrifying clarity: the Tesseract had bound you to him in ways that would destroy you both. It had never cared for you, for him. It had only cared for its own purposes—its own designs. And in this brief, agonizing moment, Loki understood the true cruelty of its force. It hadn’t just doomed you. It had made him see you. Truly see you—your fire, your strength, your humanity and made him gravitate towards you. Only to take it all away, piece by piece. 

Once again, Loki was alone.

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[faithinlouisfuture]

when louies meet up irl ❤︎ @lioftb

[thehypnone]

Say It One More Time

WC: 10k

Relationship: SwissAlps

Tags: Love Story, Friends To Lovers, Mutual Pining, Falling In Love, Soulmates, First Kiss, Miscommunication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mating, Insecurities, Suggestive, Fluff, Cuddles, Anxiety, Self-Esteem Issues, Referenced Panic Attacks, Retirement, Fear Of The Future, Jamming Sessions, Nightmares, Literal Sleeping Together, Cuddle Piles, Pack Dynamics, Building A Home, Cooking/Baking Date, Domestic Fluff (old married couple coded), Growing Old Together

The story of Swiss and Mountain. From the beginning to the end. (But not really.)

Notes: Commissioned by the amazing @jimothybarnes! Thank you for letting me basically ramble about my faves fgfhdsgf

Read under the cut or on AO3.

Mountain joined the Ghost project in…trying times. So much chaos all around, there was not a moment of peace and the earth ghoul despised it. He thought he would be begging to get sent back to the Pit after one tour leg.

He did not.

Still, he never thought life like this was for him. He always doubted he would ever be really happy. Dewdrop’s elemental transition changed things; first it took away all hope, but then returned it double as he survived it and made full recovery—at least a physical one. That is when Mountain started seeing the human world a little differently.

He started wanting to have a life there, to settle, and that alone guaranteed him success already. Once his mind was set it did not take long for him to see it all changing in front of his eyes.

Or rather appearing in front of his eyes.

In the shape of a rather good looking multi ghoul.

Mountain has to admit he has found Swiss very attractive since the moment he stepped out from the summoning circle; even though he was slightly underweight and generally neglected when he did. The more time he is spending Topside, the more handsome he gets and, frankly, it is slowly getting out of hand, if you ask Mountain.

He is simply ridiculously gorgeous.

Over half a year since Swiss crawled out of the Pit Mountain has to admit that the amount of time he spends just…looking at him may be slightly concerning. So many times Dewdrop or Aether, who know him the best, had jabbed their elbows into his side teasingly and called him a creep. They never once told Mountain, though, how happy they are to see him thriving and blooming just like his element as he and Swiss get closer.

They are growing a friendship—a meaningful, deep connection.

Despite Swiss’ chaos contrasting Mountain’s calmness they found a common language in music and nature and soon enough it turned out the multi ghoul’s loudness is not all that he is, and the rest is easy to balance.

He and Mountain love working in the greenhouse or in the gardens together just as much as they enjoy jamming out in the rehearsal room with wide grins on both their faces. Swiss could not be happier, whatever it is they do together. Nobody has ever tried to get to know him, to overlook the complete mess that he seems to be at a first glance.

Mountain does and the multi ghoul doubts he is aware how important it is to him. Today the multi ghoul got an idea on how to show him. Or at least try to.

He pops his head into the greenhouse after lunch, knocking so as not to startle the earth ghoul; not so much asking for permission to come in.

“Hi, are–uhm, you busy?” he asks, getting startled himself instead, at the sight of Mountain shirtless. He turns and a small knowing smirk grows on face.

“No, not at all, just finished my work.” Mountain says and stretches. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to go for a walk and…” Swiss has some trouble remembering what he initially came there for as he struggles to rip his eyes away from the slight sheen of sweat on the earth ghoul’s chest, “uh, I was wondering if you’d go with me? I want to show you something.”

“Yeah, I’d love that! Give me just a minute, I’ll get this to the den and I’ll be right back.” Mountain points at a box filled with…something before picking it up. Swiss only nods and hangs his head to hopefully hide the blush on his face at least a little.

“Alright, I’ll wait here,” he mutters, hoping Mountain hears it as he has already walked out of the greenhouse. Swiss paces around the place waiting for the earth ghoul to return and takes a moment to appreciate all the work he does there. He is also happy to notice the plants he himself tended to and how they are flourishing. He smiles with pride.

Swiss is not used to anything thriving after it has been touched by him; that’s Mountain’s skill. His heart warms at the thought that the earth ghoul made him thrive just as he did the flora under his care and changed him; made it so he can bring good into the world, too. That is the greatest gift the earth ghoul could have ever given Swiss.

Soon enough he comes back and they set out into the woods.

“You probably know about it, it’s not like it’s super hidden,” Swiss says, “but I never heard anyone mention it and I just came across it one time and…I dunno, I just like it and wanted to take you there.”

Mountain nods with a smile; intrigued and charmed by the fact that Swiss has possibly found a place no one else knows about and he deemed the earth ghoul special enough to share said spot with him. 

They walk for some time—sometimes in silence, sometimes chatting away about various things—before Swiss stops. If not for Mountain's connection to the element they are currently surrounded in, he would be confused; there is nothing there at a first glance, but he can feel there is something.

Swiss takes one more step towards something that looks like a fallen tree resting against a hill and peels some of its branches away to reveal an entrance.

It’s a cave.

Mountain follows the other and they crawl through the tight space and into it. It’s huge and beautiful and the earth ghoul is enamored.

“Swiss, this is–woah, it’s gorgeous here,” he gasps and he is not overreacting. The cave really is something magical.

“So you didn’t know about it?” Swiss asks, slightly surprised. An earth ghoul not knowing every single inch of the local grounds?

“No,” he chuckles. “I heard from Ivy there were some caves around but I never went looking.”

Swiss does not answer, he only grins; proud of himself. He lets Mountain look around for as long as he wants to—the multi ghoul is already familiar with every single nook of the cave.

“There’s a raspberry bush over there,” Swiss says after a few moments, pointing at the other side of the cave where some light is coming from its top. “They’re really good.”

“Let’s see it,” the earth ghoul winks and follows Swiss to them. Before they get to the berries, Mountain crouches by the bush and places his hands where it pierces the ground. He closes his eyes and murmurs something under his breath. Swiss knows what he is doing; thanking the earth for such a gift.

It may just be Swiss’ imagination but the bush seems to brighten when Mountain stands back up.

“You have to teach me that sometime,” he says and the earth ghoul nods before picking up a raspberry and popping it into his mouth. He moans at the taste; they are good.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” He smiles at Swiss. “I really appreciate you.”

The multi ghoul returns the smile with a rosy blush dusting his cheek.

One evening seemingly changes everything. In reality, it changes nothing.

Another tour leg, another city, another show, another venue, another bar to let off some steam. Everyone has a drink or two in their hands, holding onto their human disguises and having fun in pairs or small groups. The music is loud, the lights are bright and it absolutely reeks of sweat, but it doesn’t bother anyone too much.

It’s the charm of such places, really.

Even Mountain is fine with all that; even though he’s not a huge fan, he’s content sitting in a dark corner with a mocktail and watching his packmates.

He sighs. Who is he even trying to lie to? Himself? Lucifer?

He’s watching Swiss.

Beautiful Swiss, laughing and smiling so brightly Mountain thinks he missed his destination; he should have been an angel, not a demon. The earth ghoul zones out staring at him as he laughs amongst their pack, as he dances and sings and Mountain can not help but think Swiss is the most perfect thing in the world, and…

Oh.

Oh.

He’s in love with him

Fuck.

Mountain can’t look at him the same after that realization. He ran away from the bar and avoided everyone for as long as possible—a whole ten hours—not knowing what to do with himself. Now that he knows what that feeling warming up his heart every time Swiss smiles at him is, the earth ghoul only knows need.

He needs him so bad.

He needs to hold him, to kiss him, to be held by him, to be kissed by him. He needs to be devoured and to devour and it feels like the longer none of that happens, the more breath he loses, and it does not take long for Mountain to feel as if he is suffocating.

Little does Mountain know, that he is actually a fucking idiot.

Swiss feels the exact same way; burning for him.

He’s not even discreet about it—he’s painfully obvious, actually—but Mountain is so focused on the doomsday scenario of getting rejected that he’s blind to the signs Swiss is throwing his way. Right under his feet.

It’s another few months before any of them do something more direct than stare yearningly at the other, and it’s not even either of them's idea. It’s their pack that all but pushes them into a tight broom closet and threatens not to let them out until they kiss. Or fuck.

Metaphorically, of course.

What they actually do is a whole scheme of talking them into it. They play a little dirty, they have to admit; showing one of them the messages that were never supposed to see the light of day from the other one, and the other way around.

They just have to make them believe it isn’t one big joke; neither Swiss nor Mountain have enough faith in themselves to accept that someone they see as absolute perfection could even consider…loving them. Oh, how wrong they both are.

Favorite method of Aether’s became getting Swiss high and filling his head with the images of a beautiful future he and Mountain can share if he only stops being such a cunt. He does not even need his quintessence for that.

“Mount’s a romantic, you know?” Aether sighs—slurring a little on purpose, so he seems more high than he actually is after only taking a few hits and feeding the rest to Swiss. “He loves spoiling people he loves and he gets all into it.”

“Mhm,” Swiss hums, sprawled out like a starfish on the quintessence ghoul’s bed. “He’s real sweet.”

“Yeah, he really is,” Aether confirms. “He likes giving gifts. He makes a lot of stuff and then gives it to people. It’s one of the ways he shows affection.”

“I got a few things from him,” the multi ghoul notes. “He grew a flower for me.”

Aether wants to scream at how stupid they both are.

“That’s cute,” he says instead. “What kinda flower?”

“A rose, orange and red.”

Aether face-palms himself. “That’s really lovely.”

“Yeah…” Swiss sighs dreamily. “I’m not so good at…being sweet.”

“Bullshit. You just do it in a different way.”

“Meh.”

“You help everyone,” Aether explains, trying to direct the conversation onto the multitude of times Swiss helped with or did something for Mountain. He also might pull up an article on love languages on his phone and force Swiss to read it, but that’s plan B. “I think that’s how you show affection.

“Huh…I guess it is.”

One evening it all comes to a climax. Swiss is returning from chores with Cirrus and the air ghoulette is laughing at how heart-eyes he gets the moment she so much as mentions Mountain.

When they get to the den they notice said earth ghoul resting in the common room on his own. Swiss tries to turn on his heel and run away—not in a state he would wish Mountain to see him—but Cirrus is done with them jumping around each other.

“Oh, no, you don’t, loverboy!”

She pushes Swiss into the room and Mountain notices him right away. Well, if he can’t run away, maybe he should just…go for it, like the air ghoulette advised him to.

Mountain is looking at him questioningly as he just stands there, contemplating, and he decides he can not make it worse. At least he hopes so.

Swiss walks up to the earth ghoul and plops down onto the couch next to him.

“Hey, can I ask you–” he starts, but Mountain speaks at the same time.

“Hi, I was actually–” 

“Oh, you first, but–”

“So I wanted to–”

“I was wondering if–”

They both pause this silly exchange—blushing bright red—and take deep breaths before speaking again.

“I want to kiss you so bad,” Swiss blurts out, tired of the thoughts that could not be let out jumping around in his head.

“Yeah…” Mountain sighs and giggles to himself before cupping the multi ghoul’s cheek and bending down to kiss him, indeed. Swiss melts into it and nothing else but the two of them exists anymore in this chaotic world.

If their pack that is looking out of the windows cheers as they watch, Swiss and Mountain will never know.

Ghoulish nature is a curious thing.

There are many strange things about it—at least to humans—but it’s understandable considering they are quite literally demons from the pits of Hell. One thing that humans are always particularly amazed by is mating.

It’s not as common as it is sometimes believed. It’s unlike human marriage; that is something frail and all but an act—it does not influence one’s very core.

Mating does.

The spirits of ghouls that mate split and twist together and bind them with a bond unbreakable.

That is why some deem it too dangerous.

Swiss and Mountain, even if they are not aware of it, have both dreamed of committing such an act.

Swiss, who despite his confidence always feels out of place, wanting to experience the comfort of being someone’s, of belonging. Being owned, even.

Mountain, who despite his metaphorical wealth always feels like he’s lacking something, wanting to have someone to be there for him, to choose him.

For years they have both been scared of bringing it up, fearing the other would laugh in their face or push them away.

At the end of the day, neither of them bring it up, really.

“You stink!” Dewdrop announces one day as he storms into the common room where Swiss and Mountain are lounging comfortably on a sofa. “You’ve both been stinking up the place for days now and we all decided to keep our mouths shut because you’re cute, but I’m done with it! You know you should keep away for a while after mating! Besides, how are you just laying here and not fucking twenty-four seven!?”

The pair looks at the agitated ghoul with confusion.

“What the hell are you on?” Swiss snorts.

“We aren’t mated,” Mountain adds.

Dewdrop’s jaw drops as he realizes they really are clueless.

“Except you are, idiots!” the fire ghoul yells. “Last friday, did you fuck?”

“Dew, that’s–”

“DID YOU FUCK!?”

“Fucking Lucifer, yes, we did,” Swiss laughs. “So what?”

“Oh, let’s see! Whoever was topping, did you happen to knot and bite the other one?”

“Well…yes, but we’ve done that so many times before, and–” Mountain mutters, now calculating in his mind.

“SURPRISE, you’re mated! I don’t fucking know how you managed to do it by accident, but you did, so I wish you a happy mated life and now get the fuck out to the woods, I have to air the den out.”

Mountain is the first to stand up—or rather shoot up—but he does not wait for Swiss. No, he runs out of the common room, leaving the remaining two ghouls confused.

The multi ghoul swallows the growing lump in his throat as he follows, albeit way slower. As he leaves he can hear Dewdrop swearing under his breath as he slams the windows open. Swiss is about to cry. Did Mountain…he claimed him by accident and ran away when he was made aware. Does he regret it, does he not want him? Does he not love him?

The multi ghoul wraps his own arms around himself as he leaves the Abbey. He does not know where Mountain went to, but he is sure it’s not to the cave in the woods. Swiss hopes so, at least, wanting to have that space for himself.

Indeed, he does not find his mate there, but it does not make anything better. Swiss crumples to the floor with his claws digging into his sides as he sobs.

He thought he finally found home. He thought that after hundreds of years of loneliness and abuse he found love, but now…it seems it was all a lie. He spends the night curled up in one of the nooks of the cave; with stone digging into his cold body.

Mountain does not sleep.

He ran and ran until he ran out of breath and collapsed somewhere by the other edge of the forest. He cried, realizing how many mistakes he has managed to make.

He knows Swiss, knows his insecurities. He knows what the multi ghoul is now surely thinking.

That he hates him.

The truth is that Mountain panicked once it hit him that Dewdrop was right. Some instinct must have overtaken that last friday and the earth ghoul claimed Swiss without realizing. He did not run away because he regrets it, he–well, he does regret it, but only because he did it without Swiss’ consent.

They have never even talked about it and he just did it to him; Mountain feels like a monster. What if it’s something Swiss never ever wanted to do?

It doesn’t matter now; if he wanted it before, now he certainly wants nothing to do with the earth ghoul. Not only did he violate him, but he ran away like a coward after.

He has fucked up beyond measure.

It’s a few days before either Swiss or Mountain emerge from their hiding spots; though still not knowing what next step to take. They are both clueless that they’re getting closer and closer as they’re trying to return home; only realizing once they bump into each other.

“Fuck, sorry, ‘m sorry,” Swiss mutters and immediately turns on his heel to walk away.

“Please, don’t go,” Mountain begs, voice cracking. The multi ghoul snaps his head back with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why?”

“I’m an idiot, I–I panicked,” the earth ghoul whines, “I didn’t know what to do so I ran, I’m so sorry, my darling.”

“Why?” Swiss repeats.

“You never agreed to it.”

Swiss’ eyes widen.

“That’s…that’s it? You felt bad for claiming me because I didn’t say you could do it?”

“Yes, darling,” Mountain breathes out. “I know what you must’ve been thinking and I’m so, so sorry for making you think any of this was on you. I love you so much, Swiss. I always have and always will.”

The multi ghoul stares at the ground, swallowing thickly. Mountain is all but shaking with anxiety; not knowing whether he is about to be rejected for good or not.

It all dissipates when Swiss throws himself at Mountain, jumping up into his arms. The earth ghoul grabs him as he stumbles backwards and clings to him for dear life as their lips meet.

“I love you, too,” Swiss cries into his mouth. “I’ve always wanted to be yours.”

“Fuck, Swiss, can we–uh, can we pretend it isn’t done yet?” Mountain mutters. “I want to do it properly. Will you let me?”

“Yes, my love. Let’s do it properly.”

It is a few more days before they actually leave the woods.

Swiss always complains when he and Mountain have to work not only separately, but also in the opposite sides of the Abbey. It’s cruel and, frankly, homophobic—as Aeon likes to joke, having picked the phrase up from Tik-Tok.

The multi ghoul would much rather work with Mountain, or not work at all, and he tried to use an argument that he’ll be much more productive with his mate by his side, but one time was enough for Sister Imperator to know it would make them both way less productive. Swiss will not agree, of course—at least not out loud—but he realizes that defiling something they were about to clean was not a great way to prove they could work together on a daily basis.

Anyway, knowing his mate is close enough keeps him as calm as he can be without being in his arms. Swiss can never wait for the work to be finished so he can fall right back into Mountain’s hold, of course, but at least he can survive the hours leading to it.

M: hi my heart, i finished my chores early so ill be in the practice room if you need me, see you soon <3

Swiss grumbles reading the text from his mate. How on earth does Mountain always manage to finish all his work hours before the others? It’s truly unfair, he thinks. It is definitely not caused by Mountain actually doing what he is supposed to instead of getting distracted with a multitude of other things as Swiss happens to.

S: alright, ill catch u when im done, love u

Groaning at having to be away from Mountain for another hour, at least, he gets back to work. Thankfully he’s been left alone in the room without many distractions. Still, an hour is way too long, so when Swiss shoots his next text, half an hour later, he may or may not have forgotten about some of the tasks yet to be done.

S: i’m done, my love, still practicing?

Lack of an answer is an answer enough for Swiss, so he bolts in the practice room’s general direction before someone can notice him ditching chores. He catches Mountain’s scent just before he gets to the sound-proofed door and takes a deep breath, inhaling the smell of fresh grass, blooming flowers and pine. He can not hold back the smile that grows on his face as he enters the room.

Mountain is—as usual—fully immersed in music, smiling to himself and moving his entire body to the rhythm as he plays. Swiss closes the door behind him and hangs by it, watching his mate all heart-eyed for the next few minutes. Only when the earth ghoul finishes up another song and pauses to check his phone does he look up and notice Swiss.

He chuckles, “How long have you been standing there?”

“A little bit.” The multi ghoul shrugs and makes his way over to the drum platform. “I like watching you play.”

“Creep,” Mountain teases before closing the remaining distance between him and his mate and wrapping his arms around him, sweat and all.  “Missed you.”

Swiss is immediately purring up a storm, nuzzling under Mountain’s cheek and breathing in the scent he loves so much. “Mhm, I missed you, too, my love.”

“Let’s get something to eat,” the earth ghoul proposes, “and then we can take a nap.”

“Okay, but…” Swiss sighs, “in a moment. Wanna stay like that just a minute more.”

“Of course, my heart.” Mountain smiles against his hair. “However long you need.”

Ideally, Swiss would never pull away. He would stay glued to his mate for eternity if he could. Alas, just standing there is neither comfortable nor really fun, so eventually he does. He grabs the earth ghoul’s hand instead and they go back to the den, talking about their day. Soon enough they reach the commons and head for the kitchen first.

“What do you want to eat, my love?” Swiss asks, already rummaging through some cabinets. Mountain hums as he trails a hand over the multi ghoul’s hip before he wraps his arms around his waist and glues himself to his back.

“You,” he rumbles, pressing a kiss under Swiss’ ear.

“Maybe later,” he laughs and turns in the other’s arms. “You can get a taste, though.”

Mountain would never deny, of course; he grabs Swiss’ chin and tips his head back gently to lick into his mouth with near reverence. The multi ghoul sighs into it, sagging in Mountain’s arms. He hooks his hands under Swiss’ thighs and picks him up to sit him on the counter before stepping in between his legs to get that much closer and kiss the breath out of his mate.

“So sweet,” he breathes between kisses, “could just–eat you up.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Swiss giggles, “but maybe some actual food first, hm?”

“Fine…” Mountain rolls his eyes as he pulls away, making his mate grin widely. The earth ghoul turns to the fridge and grabs a yogurt. “Want some, too?”

“Yeah, gimme.” He scoffs at Swiss’ grabby hands and pulls out another one before shutting the fridge. The multi ghoul is already waiting with two spoons.

They chat some more as they snack, spreading some Abbey gossip as two ghouls do. Soon enough the empty yogurt packets end up in the thrash and they move to the living room.

Mountain sits in a big armchair in the corner of the common room, sprawling himself out in the deep plush to get comfortable. Swiss plops himself in his mate’s lap once he gets the go-ahead and curls up against his chest, rubbing his nose up and down Mountain’s neck. 

“I love you,” He mutters. The earth ghoul kicks up a low, rumbly purr and wraps his arms around Swiss, holding him close.

“I love you, too.” Swiss starts his own purring and it is easy to fall asleep enveloped in the comfort of having each other so close.

Mountain has learned how to fight his anxiety relatively well long ago. It’s not something that can just be cured or gotten rid of, of course, but he manages it as well as one can.

But if you can’t get rid of something permanently, it will resurface every now and then.

The earth ghoul has always struggled with low self-esteem. He used to lack any confidence, always preferring to hide behind his drum kit.

It changed a lot over the years.

Mountain’s pack and Swiss helped him a great deal; proving every single day how kind, smart, beautiful, and most importantly loved he is. It took him years, but he finally believes it all and now he knows his worth.

But doubts creep back into his brain, sometimes.

That he’s not good enough, that he’s worthless, that he’s useless, that he’s a burden, that he’s unlovable. All lies, of course, but it’s hard to ignore a nagging voice inside one’s head repeating it all over and over again.

Whenever it does speak up, Mountain goes to Swiss.

Today has just been…rough for the earth ghoul and he finds himself in a not-so-good headspace around dinnertime. He had seen Swiss barely half an hour ago but he feels like spiraling and he knows he should not wait until he’s down there.

But on the other hand…Swiss is probably busy now, he can’t just go and bother him and–

No. Swiss loves him, he won’t–

Mountain squeezes his eyes as if it can get him rid of these awful thoughts and goes to find his mate before they change his mind and force him to hide.

It’s happened before, many times. There were times when he would panic so hard he would run to the woods, blend in with his element and not emerge for days—convinced nobody had even noticed he was gone.

They always did and they always looked for him.

He gets to the den, unsure if Swiss is there at first, but he catches his scent quickly. It leads him to their shared bedroom and Mountain tries to compose himself a little bit before knocking on the door and entering. Swiss is doing something by the closet—probably taking care of the freshly washed clothes.

“Hi, my love,” the multi ghoul grins as he sees him. He is always an image of pure joy when he sees him.

“Hey,” Mountain responds quietly, dragging his feet as he comes closer.

“What’s wrong?” Swiss asks, having immediately picked up on the sadness in his voice, the sour edge in his scent, and the slump of his shoulders.

“Nothing, can I just…” Mountain sighs and drags a hand down his face as his voice cracks, “can I get a hug?”

“Oh, baby,” the multi ghoul coos with a sad pout on his face, already coming towards him with open arms—all but running to comfort him, “of course you can, come here.”

Mountain melts the moment these strong and warm arms wrap around him. He sags in Swiss’ hold and hides his face in his neck. He can not hold back a dry little sob that breaks its way free at the newfound comfort.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Swiss mutters, “I’ve always got you.”

It doesn’t take long for the comfort of Swiss’ embrace to make Mountain’s tears fall. He lets out a choked sob and hides further in his mate’s neck.

They stand like that for a while; just being. The multi ghoul holds his mate close and sways them side to side a little, letting him cry out whatever it is that has been bothering him. He does not need to know, not if he can help without that knowledge.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he repeats, rubbing his back. “You’re alright.”

Moments like these always make Swiss think about how he has seen Mountain when they first met. A huge ghoul with a stoic presence and yet a kind smile.

He thought his name was fitting not only because of his height. He thought the earth ghoul was unshakable, unmovable.

Swiss was pleased to find out Mountain is all but the definition of a gentle giant.

“Do you want to move to the nest?” Swiss asks once he deems his mate calm enough to move. He nods into his neck and the multi ghoul kisses his hair before gently maneuvering them over to their nest without untangling their limbs. It is not very easy and they end up having to pull away at least for a second.

“Sorry, I’m–I’m a mess,” the earth ghoul mutters, wiping tears and snot from his face as Swiss gets comfortable against the headboard. He opens his arms again once he is settled. Mountain falls right back into his embrace.

“You’re my mess, baby,” Swiss chuckles and kisses his forehead before poking his nose with a finger, making him giggle wetly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

Mountain cuddles up to Swiss’ side with his head over his heart and their hands clasped together. Their tails wrap around each other, too; Swiss’ tapping lightly against the mattress as he purrs. It relaxes the earth ghoul and he can feel the tension leaving him as he gets heavier against him.

Mountain is half asleep when Swiss speaks again. He does that on purpose; knowing that as sleepy as he is, the earth ghoul will not argue.

“You’re the smartest, kindest, most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Swiss tells him. Mountain can only listen and breathe softly into his neck. “You give my life meaning, I love you so much it hurts sometimes and I need you, my love. I’m a part of you and the best part of me is you, Mountain. I don’t know what your brain was telling you earlier, but whatever it is, you know it’s not true and I’ll spend years proving it to you, okay? Do you understand me, sweetheart?”

It may not be so easy to believe all that Swiss is saying right away, but the one thing Mountain will never dare doubt is the multi ghoul’s devotion to making him believe.

He nods weakly in agreement just before he falls asleep in his arms.

Swiss always feared that retirement was going to bore him to death.

What would he do with his time? Stuck in the Abbey all year long with no opportunities to travel and have fun, really? How would he—a creature that lived on the adrenaline that playing shows all over the world provided—survive not touring? Sure, he would have his mate and his pack and they could play together in the rehearsal room as much as they wanted, but it would not be the same without both exhaustion and excitement of the real thing.

The multi ghoul could not see a point in living like this and he was scared.

He did not think he would be able to return to his old life after getting a taste of something bigger. He has spent countless nights worrying and coaxing himself into pointless panic attacks.

Now that the time to leave the Ghost project behind has come, Swiss realizes it may not be so bad.

Sure, it has only been a few months—no more than some breaks they had between touring—and he already feels a hole in his heart that is never fully going to get filled. But it is not so bad.

He thinks he has Mountain to thank for that.

When touring was the only thing for him, he used to think life would lose all meaning without it, but now it is Mountain that is Swiss’ life. He’s not scared anymore because he has his mate.

His life is full even though a big chunk of it was ripped away.

It’s slower now. They can sleep in every single day if they wish. They can go for week-long walks into the woods. They can do anything they want, really.

The only thing that matters is that Swiss and Mountain are together.

Mountain does not really miss touring—having had more than enough of it—but he doesn’t consider it all bad memories. Quite the opposite; all these years going around the world with his pack are the best of his long life. He misses the good moments, both on and off stage.

That is why he never declines when the pack asks him to join them in jamming out like the old times. It always feels good to climb his platform and sit behind his fancy drum kit again, to overlook the rest of the musicians as they run and jump around the stage.

Just like the old times.

They all still play a lot, but it is usually on their own, in their bedrooms. Each of them also spends a lot of time teaching both their instruments and elements to the new generation of ghouls summoned to continue the Ghost project.

Dewdrop—to everyone’s surprise—seems to have found his calling as a teacher; he loves it, and both he and his pupils are doing exceptionally well.

Aether and Aeon are switching between teaching the new quintessence ghoul guitar and quintessence, introducing them to the infirmary already.

Rain and the new water ghoul spend as much time in the lake as over their basses, just like Mountain with his pupil in the greenhouse and behind their drums.

The ghoulettes are—as always—rather secretive about their doings, but the old one’s voices can often be heard overlapping with the new trio’s.

Even Swiss has a pupil—a multi ghoul as chaotic and joyful as he is; perfect fit for replacing him.

But sometimes their pack meets in the rehearsal room purely for their own enjoyment.

Mountain turns to the right and relies solely on his muscle memory as he watches his mate on his platform—dancing and singing and laughing and playing. It hurts him sometimes, the fact that even if he does not, Swiss clearly misses it. Mountain would let him tour for decades if he only could, even if he would not go with him. He wishes he could give that to him.

Swiss looks at it differently now.

Yes, he misses touring terribly, but he does not regret being forced to retire. His life Topside until now was full of…everything, really, and now it’s time to tone it down, to go slower.

The rest of his life is for Mountain and he could not be happier about that.

They all get lost in the music again. All of them, Dewdrop, Rain, Aeon, Aether, Cirrus, Cumulus, Aurora, Sunshine, Swiss, and Mountain.

The ghoulettes are all dancing on two platforms, holding hands as they fill the room with the beautiful sound of their combined voices. Dewdrop keeps chucking picks at Aether. Aeon leans against Rain, nuzzling up to him like a car.

Swiss seems alone, but it could not be further from the truth. In that moment he feels less alone than ever.

Mountain can only smile and thank Lucifer for sending all these amazing ghouls his way when life was rough.

For sending Swiss his way when life was rough.

Their fun ends too soon, with the entire pack exhausted, but content. They slowly filter out of the room, thanking each other for the amazing time they had.

“Did you have fun, my love?” Swiss asks, coming up the platform behind his mate.

“I did,” Mountain sighs as the multi ghoul drapes himself over his back, not minding the sweat dripping off of him. “Did you?”

“You know it, baby,” he laughs. Mountain hums before turning on his stool and sweeps Swiss off of his feet. He yelps as he ends up in his mate’s lap with his arms around his neck. They both laugh like they are the happiest people in the entire universe.

They are the happiest people in the entire universe.

Mountain leans in to rest his forehead against Swiss’, knocking their horns together. They close their eyes and breathe the same air for a moment.

Despite all the little things they miss, their life could not be more perfect.

Swiss does not think his nightmares will ever go away. They have become less frequent over the years since he has been summoned, but once in a while—when he least expects it—something will hit him again. The less often they happen, the more frightening they are, though, and sometimes it takes the multi ghoul as much as a week to recover.

He wakes up gasping and sweating bullets for the first time in a few months and his first instinct is to blindly pat around for Mountain. He finds him, of course, and lets out a shaky breath of relief as he grabs his limp hand, but the dream still leaves him unsettled. The earth ghoul shifts in his sleep after being smacked a few times, but does not wake up.

Swiss was all alone again. Alone and cold in the Pit, but not like it was before he got summoned. He was alone then, yes, but he was also clueless. This time he was left with memories, knowing he had a pack and a happy life that suddenly was gone. Lacking and missing something is so much worse when you know exactly what you have lost. He felt like he was never going to experience the warmth of being loved again and it was horrible.

But he is awake now. He is awake and Mountain is right there.

Swiss stares at his mate; watching his chest rise and fall rhythmically and his nose twitch. It’s completely dark in their room, but his water part allows him to see well anyway. Mountain looks so peaceful and the multi ghoul’s heart feels like it is about to burst with the amount of love he has for him in it.

At some point the earth ghoul turns onto his side and unconsciously reaches out for Swiss, flopping an arm over his lap. He chuckles wetly and lays back down to snuggle into Mountain’s chest, his face slotted right over his heart. The tears that have been lingering in his eyes fall when his mate’s warmth envelopes him; falling in cold drops onto Mountain’s skin. This and Swiss’ heart pounding against him wakes him up.

“S’iss…’r you okay?” he slurs, all syrupy with sleep as he nuzzles into his hair.

“Yeah, baby. You’re here, I’m okay.”

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah,” Swiss sighs, cuddling up even closer. Mountain wraps his own arms tighter around him.

“I’m here,” he assures. The multi ghoul nods and tries to focus on his mate’s heartbeat and go back to sleep, but he can not quite shake off the fear that the dream has filled him with. 

What if it is his future? What if he will be sent back before others? What if they will be sent back together but won’t manage to find each other? What if it will all be different and everyone gets sent back but him? Being alone Topside would be as bad as being alone in the Pit.

The worst part of his dreams is always that they are not completely unrealistic.

He sits up again, thinking Mountain has managed to fall back asleep and intending to just stare at him for the rest of the night and assure his brain all is fine. The earth ghoul did not, though, and he rises with Swiss.

“Wanna talk about it or just…be?” he asks as he intertwines their fingers.

“I don’t know, I just–didn’t have that one in a while and it got me all messed up.”

“I understand, my heart.” Mountain kisses his forehead and adjusts them, all but manhandling Swiss so he is in his lap, curled up smaller than it should be possible considering his actual size. “It’s okay, I’m here. Everything’s okay.”

He is, but…their family is bigger than the two of them.

“Do you, uh–do you think we could go check on the others?” 

“Yeah,” the earth ghoul mutters, “yeah, of course.”

Swiss nods with gratitude and crawls out of their nest. He grips Mountain’s hand tightly as they leave their room and go down the corridor, intending to check their packmates’ bedrooms one by one. Mountain pauses before they can open Rain’s door, though, and his ear flicks.

“What is it?”

“Let’s go to the common room,” the earth ghoul says without actual explanation, but Swiss trusts him. He trusts him more than he trusts himself, so they do indeed go to the common room. Swiss looks with an anxious stare at each door they pass without checking, but Mountain just drags him along; albeit gently.

When they reach the commons Swiss understands.

Their whole pack is there, cuddled up in one big pile on the floor lined with tons of bedding. They are all snoring away, tangled in a way that makes it impossible to really notice where one ghoul ends and the other begins. Dewdrop is curled in a little ball on Aether’s chest; his face shoved between the other’s pecs. Rain is on his side, snuggled up to the two with his tail wrapped around the fire ghoul’s leg. Aeon is spooning Rain and drooling into his hair. Aurora is laying perpendicularly to him; her legs are thrown over the quintessence ghoul’s middle. Her head is resting on Cumulus’ stomach while Cirrus’ head is in the crook of her neck. Sunshine is sprawled half on top of them two.

The multi ghoul smiles and kisses Mountain in a way that expresses more than words ever could. He understands.

“Do you want to join them or get back to our room?” The earth ghoul asks.

“Here…” Swiss mutters, “but you don’t have to, your back will–”

“I’ll stay. I’ll always stay.”

Swiss doesn’t have it in himself to disagree; he nods and finds a spot where he and Mountain can lay down with the others. They slot in perfectly right next to Aether and the moment they get comfortable someone’s—most likely Dewdrop’s—tail drapes itself over them.

“You will never be alone again, my heart,” the earth ghoul whispers, kissing Swiss right below his ear. “No matter what happens, we will always be together.”

A couple of years into their retirement, Mountain and Swiss start to fantasize about having a space that would really be their own. Moving out of the Abbey isn’t an option. Not because of the Clergy’s control or some binding magic. Well, not unless the bond between a pack is considered magic, but truth be told it’s as close as it gets.

They simply don’t want to leave their family.

They would hate being unable to see them at least every other day, being unable to have cuddle piles; they would miss them terribly, even if they would not travel far. They are older now, though—especially Mountain—and the chaos is sometimes too much. That is why they started thinking of their options.

The Ministry’s grounds are big.

Swiss and Mountain share not only the element of earth in their cores, but also deep love for it, and when they are offered by the Clergy—or rather Copia himself, always the one to spoil his ghouls—to be provided with supplies to build a house in the woods, they accept without a second thought.

They begin planning immediately.

They have to have a little patio to drink tea in the mornings and to lounge with a book or guitar on. They need a big kitchen to cook and bake together as much as their hearts might desire. There must be a speaker system all over so they can have music they so love surrounding them at all times. Their bed has to be big and sturdy for…obvious reasons.

Thankfully both Mountain and Swiss are good at drawing.

They spend hours online, looking for inspiration and appliances they are going to need. They plan and draw everything, spilling their shared dreams onto paper.

Once it is all done, they insist they can do it all by themselves, but Copia does not agree. Not because he does not trust them, but because he loves them so much he only wants the best for them—he hires an actual architect and construction team for them.

It does not dull their excitement to bring their drawings to life; only now they are sure their house will last years. And they still do participate in the process, of course, but while the professionals are working on their cabin, Swiss and Mounty focus more on its surroundings.

They must have a garden, too.

They divide the space around the house into three parts and surround it all with magical hedge to keep away animals that might want to steal some of the things they plan on growing. The middle part they leave empty—apart from some flowers just to keep it in their style—to later on equip with chairs, tables, a swing, and anything that they might come up with that would make it a place that one wants to spend time in.

The other two parts are divided into growing fruit, vegetables, and even some grain. Whatever is possible, and considering Mountain’s power it is a lot.

Swiss and Mountain are standing there one evening, holding each other in a place that will soon be their patio, after the construction team has already left. They watch the sunset; sky painted oranges and pinks just behind the house that is steadily growing. It is as if Lucifer is congratulating them on the peaceful life that is just around the corner.

“We should get a cat,” Swiss hums into the space below Mountain’s jaw.

“What?” the other laughs quietly, slightly surprised by the proposition.

“Yeah, like a little kitten. They’re so cute.”

Mountain thinks about it. Yes, they are cute and now that they are about to have their own little home it would be precious to have something—someone—to raise there. They can not have kits Topside, so a pet would be the next best thing.

“Yeah, we should,” he mutters after a moment. Swiss pulls away and looks up at his mate, beaming. “What? Were you joking?”

“No, I just didn’t think you’d agree,” he giggles and stands on his tiptoes to kiss the earth ghoul. “I want a little calico girl.”

“Whatever you want is yours, my heart,” Mountain whispers and brings his mate closer. Swiss purrs at his warmth and he knows the earth ghoul means it; Mountain would bring the stars down from the sky and rip out his own veins to wrap them in if that would be Swiss’ wish.

The building of their house takes just short of a year. The final step is, of course, furnishing and decorating it, and the pair invite their family to help with that. The younger ghouls may not be aware, but in the Pit there is a certain tradition regarding couples that mate and leave the pack to live on their own. The pack or packs that the ghouls come out of build shelter for them to live in as a sign of the claim they still have on them. Not a possessive, objectifying one, but an affectionate one. It is simply extending the whole pack’s protection over the ghoul’s mate and their potential future kits.

That tradition is not cultivated by ghouls that get summoned Topside, and it would be especially senseless considering how unusual Swiss and Mountain’s pack and life is. So they come up with their own version.

Each ghoul of their family has a part of their cabin to decorate as they see fit.

It ends up being a patchwork style that would absolutely horrify any professional designer, but Mountain and Swiss could not be happier with how it all turned out.

Once their house is ready to move into, they walk into the fresh space and stand in the middle of it with proud smiles. They did it and it is not only their house now; it is their home.

“I think we should…initiate it,” Swiss says after a moment of just taking it in.

“As in…baptize?”

“Well, yeah, but I wouldn’t say that’s the right word for what I have in mind.”

“Oh…oh.”

The little kitten held against Swiss’ chest seems to agree as she meows loudly.

One of the things that have become a habit for Swiss and Mountain is their little kitchen dates—Mountain baking while Swiss cooks next to him.

They have them often, now that they have so much time to spare on their hands, and it never gets old or boring.

 They plan their whole day in advance, prepare their recipes and make a list of groceries they need to get. Most of the ingredients Swiss needs to make dinner can be found in their garden, and most of the ingredients Mountain needs to bake dessert can be found in the pantry they have worked years on supplying. For anything else they make a trip to a local grocery store, holding hands and mirroring the smiles older ladies send their way.

A spacious kitchen with a lot of working space was one of the priorities when they were planning their cabin; they needed space to be able to cook side by side comfortably. Besides, the two-in-one living room and kitchen turned out to be the place they spend most of their time, followed closely by their bedroom and the outside.

Both Swiss and Mountain are usually clean about their cooking and baking—that is until one of them starts a food fight. They each have their favored bowls and spoons and dishes and rags. They have a silent agreement about the division of the counter, too, but that one blurs more often than not.

The pair prepare everything; they wash the vegetables and eggs, measure the dry and wet ingredients separately, and pick out all the utensils they’ll need. The last step is putting on their matching aprons they got as a gift. They switch them sometimes, but usually Swiss wears the one saying big spoon, while Mountain’s says little spoon.

They always have music on put through the speakers scattered all over; the type depending on their mood. Sometimes it is quieter, sometimes they turn it into a full blown cooking party with the music loud and their dancing energetic.

Today, though, they are enjoying the peace of it; they are humming to the soft music Swiss put on, swaying their hips as they work. 

“How’s it going for you, my love?” Swiss asks, bumping his hip into Mountain. He looks over his arm into the bowl clutched between his hands and hums, unable to recognize what it is that his mate is working on.

“Alright,” Mountain says. “It’ll need a moment to rise before I bake it.”

“You won’t tell me what it is?” the multi ghoul whines jokingly, poking his mate’s arm with his horns.

“Nope,” he giggles, “you’ll see.”

“Fineee…” Swiss is not one to accept such mortifying defeat without a fight, though. He turns back to his own station and waits for Mountain to let down his guard before he strikes; shoving his fingers into one of the other bowls and pulling back with them covered in some kind of cream.

“Swiss!” Mountain throws his arms up; acting offended even though it’s a regular occurrence. “You menace!”

The multi ghoul only giggles as he skitters away to lick the cream off of his hand out of the other’s reach. It is sweet and kind of fluffy; that is probably what Mountain was beating the eggs for earlier. It’s delicious and Swiss tell his mate as much.

Mountain shakes his head and huffs as he goes right for Swiss’ own cooking and dips a finger in a warming up sauce in Swiss’ favorite green pan.

“Oh, you!” he laughs and walks up to him to wrap his arms around his waist from behind. The earth ghoul can not even pretend he is mad at him when Swiss kicks up a low purr and nuzzles his face against Mountain’s back. He can't help but set everything down and turn around to steal a kiss from his mate, too.

Thankfully nothing on the stove needs urgent attention; they can take their time loving on each other during their little break. They hear a little meow behind them and they pull away to look at someone who loves interrupting.

“Hi yourself,” Swiss laughs, turning to their cat Aira. He reaches out for her and she nuzzles her little fuzzy head into his palm. Mountain shakes his head but he can not deny their little lady is so adorable it is impossible to deny her affection. He comes closer, picks her up, and immediately brings her to his chest.

“Cat thief!” Swiss accuses. Mountain only shrugs; it can not be denied.

Aira is purring loudly all relaxed in the earth ghoul’s arms as he hops onto the clean end of the counter. Swiss mutters something about unfairness under his breath as he returns to his cooking, stirring something and poking a finger in to taste it.

He focuses on and gets lost in it all over again and Mountain watches him intently despite his attention seemingly being focused on the cat. He is not in a rush; his dough has to rest anyway. The earth ghoul is grinning at his mate by the time the alarm he set goes off and he has to put Aira down and get back to work.

In the evening they eat what they made, sitting on the opposite ends of a small table that’s just barely wide enough to fit their plates. They devour the meal so carefully and lovingly prepared by the multi ghoul; Mountain always praises the food and Swiss himself to the heavens. Not long after, Swiss does the same to Mountain and his dessert as he picks every single crumb from his plate and licks the cream off of his fingers.

Providing for each other is one of the love languages they share and love indulging and it fills them with more and more affection every single time; until they feel like they are about to burst with it. That is a part of the reason why every single one of their kitchen dates ends up the same—with them making love in a significantly different way than cooking for each other; kneading something else than pasta or cake dough.

When you have someone you love by your side, time goes by simultaneously slow and fast. It is slow when you look into your beloved’s eyes and get lost in them, when you enjoy every single second spent with them. But at the same time no amount of time feels enough. No matter how many years you have spent with the one you love, it will never be enough—in that way it all moves too fast.

It is different for ghouls; for any being that is considered immortal. Nothing can really come to an end for them and while living forever may feel like a terrible sentence, it does not have to be.

Swiss and Mountain are not afraid of eternity.

For them it is a gift. Not many have the chance of never running out of time. So many humans do and it is something neither Mountain nor Swiss can even imagine experiencing.

The curse of humanity is a horrible one.

They know how lucky they are and even though the ghouls being demons are called the damned ones, it could not be more wrong a description when it comes to Swiss and Mountain.

They are the blessed ones.

They have lived a big, full life already and there is still so much waiting for them.

The bonds of their pack loosen a little over time, mates distancing themselves to focus on each other—it is a natural way of things, even for a pack as unusual as theirs. Most of them stay in the Abbey—they of course spend more time together—but those who don't, hear from each other every few weeks and meet ever less often.

It is a little sad, if you think about it, considering all that they have been through together over the years.

But again, it’s different for ghouls.

They aren’t tied to one lifetime; they have multiple, and they divide them fairly.

Ghouls do not die. When—and if—they or somebody else decides their life Topside must come to an end, they simply turn into ash. Their spirits, something we could call a soul, retire back to the Pits, to the very place they were summoned from. Down there it is as if they never left, but their minds and hearts know otherwise. They are filled with memories and affections of what was and with them they continue their endless existence in Hell. It is not torment, it is not eternal damnation.

Not if they can find the one they linked their soul to.

When the time comes—whether it be tens, hundreds or thousands of years—Swiss and Mountain will find each other again. One single day they will spend apart; not more, not less.

And maybe they will find others, too.

Rain and Dewdrop, who will have left earlier to rid the water ghoul of the pain tied to his mortal vessel. The ghoulettes, all four of them, who will have enjoyed what the human world has to offer for as long as it is enjoyable. Aether and Aeon, not mated, but linked by something as strong; a brotherly bond like no other.

Maybe they will find older ghouls also. Alpha and Omega, Zephyr and Ifrit, Mist and Delta, maybe even Chain himself. Maybe the Emeritus brothers will be there, too, if the old rumors of them being favored in such a way by Lucifer turn out to be true.

For now, it is all a mystery; a riddle that is not to be solved for centuries or millennia. There is only one certainty in all of it.

Swiss and Mountain will always be together.

[caffedrine]

Rio Ortiz - Beyond the Connection Between the Past and the Present – Event Summary

This is mostly a summary for me - I make no promises on the accuracy of what’s happening. I’m not nearly fluent enough to get half the jokes/innuendo much less accurate plot points.

On her day off, Emma sits in Rio’s room, drinking the tea he brewed.

Suddenly the door slams open, and to Emma’s shock a little kid who looks like a mini-Rio walks in, only to stop and stare at her as if she was the interloper.

The kid asks who she is, also asking what she thinks she’s doing in his room. Rio, who is also in the room, asks the kid who he is.

Valerio.

Huh, that name rings a bell for some reason.

Rio kindly introduces himself and asks Valerio about his circumstances. 

Well, he was just at the courtyard pool in the garden, but before he knew it, he was magically in the palace hallway. It was weird and scary, so he returned to his room, only to find them.

Rio nods and surmises that this is himself as a child somehow transported to the future. Emma feels like there were a lot of jumps to that reasoning - but here they are with a kid who looks like he’s doing his best not to cry, so she’ll go with it.

Besides, he looks just like a mini-Rio - all cute and adorable.

(Picture this but clingier)

Valerio does, unfortunately, break down into tears, and he asks them why he is here and what should he do. Emma reaches out and pulls him into an embrace, which Valerio admits he likes. 

Rio explains that somehow Valerio has found himself in his own future. Until they find a way to send him back to his own world, it might be better if Valerio stayed with them.

Since they’re here now, Emma asks if Valerio would like to play some games with him. Valerio cheers at this, he wants to go swimming, can they go to the beach.

He’s cute and a little spoiled, but Emma can’t bring herself to mind. She offers to make the three of them lunch to Valerio’s delight.

Literally peeling Valerio off of Emma, Rio offers to arrange the carriage. 

Valerio complains, he was comfortable hugging Emma, and she smells nice too!

Rio explains that Emma is his fiancé, and surely Valerio isn’t so rude as to try to cuddle someone else’s fiancé.

Well, if Rio is Valerio’s future self, that means Emma is his fiancé too. So, where is the problem?

(No! We are not applying logic to this situation!)

Oh, there is a big problem. Rio is the one who fell in love with Emma, confessed his feelings, grew his love with Emma, and got her to fall in love with him. Not Valerio. Yet.

Valerio grumbles that his adult self is especially heartless. Come to think of it, they have different names too . . . 

Rio explains the concept of nicknames to Valerio, which blows his younger self’s mind. 

Besides, it’s the name Emma picked for him .  . . 

Valerio complains about the weird expression Rio is making. Rio explains that he is never normal when he talks about Emma. He launches into a speech about all of Emma’s wonderful and excellent qualities.

Rio ends his profuse compliments by comparing Emma to an angel, which Valerio latches on. With shining eyes, he asks if Emma really is an angel.

Angels are kind, and pretty, and probably smell as nice as Emma. After listening intently to Rio, Valerio is now convinced that Emma is an angel touching down on earth.

Emma tries to explain metaphors to Valerio.

Valerio gives her a really big wink; angels are supposed to pretend they’re human when they walk on earth. Don’t worry, he totally understands.

Emma turns to Rio for help.

Rio muses that Valerio has a point, and besides, it’s not like she has ever proved that she’s not an angel. 

Valerio is happy, he’s going to the beach with an angel!

Defeated, Emma goes with it. Valerio is smart, he’ll figure it out eventually.

At the beach, Valerio puts his mind to collecting beautiful seashells for his angel- oops- his fiancé. Rio helps, and soon it’s time for lunch. 

Valerio cheers at eating lunch on the beach, and Rio fawns over Emma’s homemade meals.

They make sandcastles - or at least something similar. Valerio is proud of his boat; Emma thinks her rose cake is quite nice and Rio . . . Rio made an effigy of Emma out of sand. Rio is satisfied with his near-lifelike idol of Emma - he can admit that there are limits to how cute something that is not Emma could be. 

It’s starting to get late, so Rio suggests they return to the castle. Valerio, finally showing signs of exhaustion, agrees. Emma suggests that they bring back some of the seashells and make a decoration out of them to commemorate this trip. 

Valerio grows quiet - he likes the idea, but anything he ‘owns’ will be taken from him.

Oh, right, back then Rio wasn’t allowed to have things. 

Rio assures him that in this day and age, that won’t happen. Valerio snaps back that Rio is a liar, everything is always stolen from him. 

Emma comforts Valerio and asks him to trust her. She’s an angel, so her words are true, right? He doesn’t need to worry about that happening here.

Valerio relaxes, smiling up at her with pure trust. 

Rio remarks that all teasing aside, Emma is an angel to him and Valerio. The smile that he gives her is gentler than Valerio’s dazzling smile, but no less warm and trusting.

Maybe, if only for these two, being an angel isn’t so bad.

[hxney-lemcn]

Love Is Scary — Eleventh Doctor x gn! reader

summery: Doctor takes reader to a planet that he thinks they'll love. Reader has a bit more on mind than just the cute animals that inhabit the planet.

tw: Fear of unrequited love (spoilers, it is very requited)

a/n: @tonyiloveyou asked for confessions and I've been wanting to write it anyways so here y'all go

wc: 2.4k

Master List

(This is a part of a one shot series: Part One | Part Two)

“See!” The Doctor spoke proudly. “Not everything has to be a life or death situation.”

“You’ve outdone yourself this time, Doctor,” I replied, watching the maroon and pink grass flow with the wind. It was quite extraordinary really. The pink tips of the grass swaying was somewhat hypnotic. The trees behind us were a rich purple and red, seeming to brush against the sky. Oh what a sky it was. The atmosphere was transparent, revealing the stars and planets that lay beyond. 

“I’ve wanted to bring someone here for quite some time actually,” The Doctor started. “Not the best place for humans though.”

“A shame,” I muttered. “Are you sure you’ll be able to sit around with me and be bored for a bit?”

“Darling, anything with you is far from boring,” He replied seriously, that stupidly soft look in his eye once more. “Besides! Mundane is good, remember?”

I rolled my eyes in amusement, something I found myself doing often in the madman's presence, “Pretty sure you only said that so I wouldn’t feel bad about the lack of adventure I lived.” 

“Lack of adventure?” The brown haired timelord asked incredulously. “Are all the things we’ve done together not adventurous enough?”

“Doctor, in the entire span of my life, I’ve mainly lived on Earth hiding amongst humans,” I explained. “Compared to you, I’ve barely explored anything.”

“Oh my sweet, sweet (y/n),” Doctor muttered, closing the distance between us. He held my face softly between his hands and I felt my heart race at the touch. “There’s nothing wrong with that. And no one can really compare to me now can they?” I stared at him blankly as he pulled away, a smug grin resting on his lips. 

“I hate you,” I grumbled. 

“No you don’t,” He replied effortlessly. 

I turned around, facing the forest, hating how right he was, “Are there any life forms?”

“Some rudimentary animal species,” Doctor explained. “Mainly in the forest, but there are some in the water as well.”

“Like on Earth?” I asked, glancing back at him, only to startle at how close he got. 

“Yes,” He nodded, hazel eyes once again on me. It felt like burning with his entire attention only on me, I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not. “Well no, but yes if it will help you understand better.”

“I’m not human,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I can see the future of any being or thing. Give me more credit.”

“Right,” Doctor cleared his throat, adjusting his bowtie after. “I’m just used to-”

“Human companions,” I finished for him. “I know. I’m assuming the beings on this planet are connected to the planet, like a hivemind of sorts.”

“Exactly!” The Doctor clapped, once again holding my head in his hands, leaning forward to place a kiss on my forehead before hesitating. I stood there with bated breath as he leaned a little higher, right above my third eye, and placed a kiss to my hairline. “As brilliant as ever.”

I hated this. I hated this warm feeling that engulfed me at the affectionate actions. The want and need that filled through me. The loneliness I knew would follow soon after. He was closer than I expected when I opened my eyes. His stare, oh that stare. It was so warm, so loving, like he never wanted this moment to end. I didn’t want this moment to end, but I also didn’t want it to exist. 

It sparked that familiar feeling. The feeling of hope. Of the possibility that he felt the same way I did. Damn Rory for putting that thought into my head. I know he was just trying to help, but Rory didn’t understand how complicated this was. Or…was it? But whenever it seemed like the Doctor and I would step over a boundary we couldn’t go back from, he’d change the subject. Which in turn would take that spark of hope and snuff it once more. A tortuous cycle that I set myself up for every time. 

“Come on,” He broke the silence. “I want to show you something.”

I blinked, coming back to reality, “Was this not what you wanted to show me?” Once again, the moment was averted. 

“No,” He shook his head, his brown hair falling out of place…not that it ever was in place. “Well yes, but only a part of it.” Holding his hand out to me, he smiled brightly and repeated, “Come on.”

I decided to try and stop overthinking everything. Just to let go and live in the moment. The moment where the Doctor took me to the most beautiful planet I’ve ever seen. Where he’s staring at me like I’ve hung the stars. Where he’s holding my hand oh so gently as we walk through a forest of vibrant purples and reds. For once, I’ll indulge myself, even if it’ll hurt later. 

I felt breathless as we entered a clearing. The forest was dark (due to the sky being transparent to the cosmos), but the clearing was a bit brighter. A river rushed past, a dark navy blue that I was familiar with on Earth. A few of the animals that the Doctor spoke of stood by the river, watching us with curious eyes. No need to be afraid, not having come in contact with predators before. Reminds me of the Dodo. Those poor birds.

The Doctor kept walking, stopping only when he realized we weren’t holding hands anymore, “Come on dear, they won’t bite.”

I trailed after him, crouching down in front of a cream colored creature. I wasn’t exactly sure of the name, or if all the creatures on this planet shared one. In fact, the color pallet of this planet reminded me of red velvet in a way. Holding my hand out, I tried to get it to sniff me, to prove I was no threat. It only turned its head in confusion. 

Leaning down next to me, the Doctor handed me some fruit. It was a bright orange, almost neon. I suppose its so it could stand out for the creatures to eat. Once more, I held my hand out, this time the creature didn’t hesitate to eat the fruit I held out to it. 

“It's so cute!” I couldn’t help but smile as I turned to look at the Doctor. “Can we take one home?”

The Doctor paused, seeming to do a double take before asking, “Home?”

I paused to, unsure what I meant by that. Did I mean the house I called a home because it's where I slept? Or did I mean the Tardis, where I found solace in the fact that the Doctor was never far away? Or did I mean simply with him, with us, wherever we chose to go?

“Y-yeah,” I slightly stuttered, turning back to a different looking creature. I shrugged, “You know…”

“Would you like to go back?” 

I looked at him in confusion, “Where?”

“Home,” He simply stated, eyes seemingly interested anywhere but me. 

I worried my lip between my teeth, deciding to take a small leap, “I am home.” Petting one of the creatures seemed to help calm me, they were quite receptive to the pets. A fond smile reached my lips as even more creatures started to surround the two of us. 

“You mean this planet?” The Doctor asked and I felt myself scoffing. 

How could a brilliant timelord be so daft?

“I mean with you, stupid,” I rolled my eyes and slapped his shoulder lightly. 

“Oh,” Such a simple reply. I kept my focus as even more animals gathered around. Some similar, others different. Don’t think. Everything is fine. “Dear, I think we should go now.”

I felt my heart drop. This was it, this was the rejection. The moment was slipping, and I wish it would just stop. 

“Is…is it okay if we stay a little longer?” I asked, petting the small creature on my lap. “I like it here.”

“I wish I could say yes, dearest,” The Doctor whispered, closer than I realized. “But I’m afraid we’ve overstayed our welcome.”

My eyebrows furrowed, looking towards the Doctor, only to find him staring at the animals around us. When did there get to be so many? I stood up slowly, carefully placing the small creature that was on my lap on the ground.  “They’re expecting more fruit,” I stated, their eyes following the Doctor and I. 

“They won’t turn violent,” The Doctor reassured in a hushed tone. “But they may not want us to leave.”

“Darn,” I faked defeat. “I guess that means we’re stuck on this beautiful planet with the cutest creatures for the rest of our lives.”

The Doctor laughed lightly, “I don’t think the Ponds would be too happy if we admitted defeat so quickly.”

“Or,” I pointed out. “They would be disappointed finding out that we skipped out on a great opportunity.”

“Is this the same Amy we’re talking about?” He questioned with a glint in his eye.

“Is this the same Rory we’re talking about?” I countered.

“Touche.”

______

I watched from the railing as the Doctor did his little dance around the Tardis’ control board. No word about my comment. No reciprocation or clarity about whether he felt the same or not. Once again, changing the subject before the lines of our relationship could get too blurred. I wasn’t sure if I could deal with this heavy feeling on my chest any longer. I knew it would hurt, but not this much.

“So,” I trailed off, not sure where to even start. 

“Once we pick up the Ponds, I was thinking of going to Drunun Z85, they’ve got some of the most excellent chefs there,” The Doctor started to ramble. 

“Uhm, could we talk about something first?” I asked, clenching my fists to try to ground myself. I was okay, this will be okay. 

Stopping his actions, he looked up to me, eyes wide and a slight smile, “Yes! Of course! Talking’s good, talking’s fun.” I tilted my head slightly as he rubbed his hands together and glanced around the room. 

“Are you nervous?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

“Me? Nervous? Never,” Waving his hands about, he went to fiddle some more with the console of the Tardis.

“Okayyyy,” I drawled. “I…was just hoping I didn’t make you uncomfortable earlier. You know…me calling you…”

“Home,” The Doctor finished for me, that sad lonely look clouding his eyes, one I found often when I looked in a mirror. Once more he cleared his throat, “No, no I don’t mind.”

An awkward silence fell over the two of us. I fiddled with my fingers as the Doctor continued to pretend to be busy with the Tardis. I shouldn’t have said anything. 

The Tardis’ lights flickering brought me out of my head. The Doctor also seemed to notice as his brows furrowed into the cute focused look he has. They both seemed to be having an internal conflict with each other before the lights went out completely.

“Oh come on…” The Doctor paused before whispering out ‘sexy’. “Don’t be this way.” There was no reaction and I never realized how dark it could be without lights on. I squinted, hoping my eyes would adjust to the dark, but there was absolutely no light, no sun, no star, that could potentially reflect light and help me see. “At least give us backup lights so we don’t hurt ourselves!” The Doctor shouted, sounding frustrated. Dim lights lit up the area. Barely might I add. Still, it was better than the literal void. 

“Are you okay, love?” The Doctor asked. Well that’s a new one. Hearing him call me that hurt so nicely. 

“What’s going on?” I asked, it was the only thing I could think of. “Why’d she shut down?”

“She’s being stubborn,” He replied. 

“About what?”

“She wants me to admit something,” He sighed. “Something I’d rather keep to myself.”

“Oh,” I muttered, feeling disheartened. “You don’t have to tell me. Tardis, I’m sure it can be left unsaid.”

“At the same time…” The Doctor continued. “I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this in.”

I walked up to his dark outline, reaching my hand out and accidentally touching his neck. I felt my way up to cupping his cheek.

“You know you can tell me anything Doc,” I whispered, brushing my thumb against his cheek. He’s reached out to me so many times before…was this my first time reaching out to him? My heart stuttered as he leaned into my touch. “I won’t judge, I’ll always be by your side.”

It was silent for a few beats. I waited for something, anything, with bated breath. What could he possibly admit? Why was the Tardis so adamant of me needing to know? 

“I love you.”

He said it so softly I almost missed it. No, how could I miss something I’ve wished to hear for hundreds of years? The overwhelming sensation of love, confusion, and fear washed over me. I’ve wanted this for so long…too long. The yearning, the want for love, it had become a stability for me, something I could always rely on. 

But this was a good change. Love was scary, but it was also beautiful.

“I love you too,” I replied without hesitation.

“Is this the part where we kiss?”

Moving my hand from his cheek to his neck, I pulled him into a kiss. It was clumsy at first, but we both were quick learners. My skin felt like it was on fire when his hands ghosted over my waist. Pulling away, I couldn’t help but notice the Tardis lights had turned back on. 

“Okay,” The Doctor nodded, turning back to the panel. A giggle escaped him as he muttered to himself “They really kissed me, we kissed! Blimey, Amy won’t let me live this down…I won’t let me live this down.” His giddiness seemed to be infectious as I chuckled at his antics. I stopped him from flipping a switch by placing my hand on his shoulder. He turned to me, a bright smile on his lips. Before I could back out, I placed a quick kiss on his lips, just for the hell of it. I could do that now! Whenever I wanted!

“Are you trying to kill me?” The Doctor asked, his smile never faltering. 

“Not a bad way to go out,” I replied with an equally bright grin.

“Not bad at all.”

[bluemoonsunrise]

Demons and Savages

pairing: tsu’tey and human!avatar driver (fem presenting)

content warnings: graphic language, violence, alien vs human differences, awkward friendship?, tension, angst, vulgarity. (also, i don’t like to capitalize sentences on tumbler :3)

word count: …idk :D

pov: 2nd person so you can add yourself in. for writing/plot purposes, your character is named eris ramsey. i’ll use the name sparingly but i can’t take myself seriously writing y/n— so please just work with me here. i promise it’ll be worth it. (i hope)

< previous chapter

———🌌———

SUMMARY: earth was dying and your sister was, too, but cancer killed her faster than humans were killing earth. when she passed, she not only left behind an empty apartment full of memories but a billion dollar avatar without a driver. in a desperate attempt to not waste that money, the program she had spent the last five years preparing to join recruited you— her twin. of course, you agreed. there was nothing left on earth for you. there was nothing left on earth for anyone— that’s why people like your sister were sent off to pandora.

when your sister had spoken of pandora, it seemed like a dream.

the RDA promised it would be like a safari adventure.

truth was that pandora is beautiful. beautiful and unlike anything else across the whole of the universe. it is breathtaking— and that’s because what chases you through the forest hunts with the intent to kill; so you best run like hell even if your lungs are on fire. beasts and monsters of all kinds lurk out of sight waiting for the right moment to kill you dead— but none are as dangerous as him.

the blue shadow with the bow.

chapter two

— cowboy —

you should have linked to your avatar body sooner. the morning had nearly passed by the time you opened your eyes and stirred in your hammock. when you rose, he was waiting.

he had been waiting.

for hours.

anger made him look volatile. his tail flicked behind him as he watched you climb out from your hammock. you nearly tripped over your own feet trying to rub the daze of shifting into this larger, still-stiff body from your eyes.

“i’m sorry…” you said as you approached. you dipped your head and signed, ‘i see you’ to him. when his demeanor did not change, you swallowed around the lump in your throat. “really, i’m sorry. i don’t have much control over when i can and can’t be connected to my body.”

tsu’tey flicked his head and you knew to start marching.

he was kind enough to have saved you breakfast. dried fruits and nuts. you picked at them within the pouch he stored them in as you walked through the forest together. you offered him some as an attempt at making peace. to your surprise, he took a handful and poured them into his mouth. it was silent as you walked.

well, not for very long.

you had a bad habit of blabbering when tension arose— and you could feel the negativity radiating off him like the old story of chernobyl you knew about.

“how long have you been up for?” you asked, shooting a glance his way.

tsu’tey popped more pieces of dried fruit into his mouth and grunted. “sunrise.”

guilt made your stomach hurt.

“i really am sorry. i hope you understand that there is a strict schedule i follow. if i don’t, i risk killing myself. water? food? sleep? it’s all stuff my real body needs, too.” you said.

“i am not angry you are late, skxawng. i care not for what you do. im angry my day revolves around you. why i must be the one to teach you is not something i am happy with. i have other tasks i would rather see to. hunting. training warriors who are soon to pass their iknimaya.” tsu’tey said gruffly, not bothering to look at you.

your expression soured and you scowled at him. “you can teach me to be a warrior, too.”

“ha,” tsu’tey laughed. a real laugh. it lit up his face and made his ears perk up. he looked at you and shook his head. “you really are a skxawng.”

“eywa may have given me a sign not to shoot you down with my bow but it changes nothing. i see what you truly are, demon, even with all your practiced knowledge.”

“you are not real.”

you could only stare at him. your throat went dry. your heart shuddered in your chest. your voice was no where to be found— but what could ever be said to that?

nothing. because he was right.

“then why bother with all this?”

tsu’tey turned, stopping dead in his tracks. his tail flicked. “what?”

“why did you save me from the nantang?” you asked outright. you swallowed the fruit you had in your mouth with trouble and tried to keep your chin up. “if you know what i am, why bother saving me? you could’ve let me get torn apart. it wouldn’t have been you who killed me. no blame on you. why did you save me?”

tsu’tey let his shoulders drop. when he met your eyes, he looked at you. into you.

“eywa did not want you dead,” he said. his voice was too soft. he sounded like an entirely different person. a hopeless believer. “the atokirina landed on my arrowhead before it floated down to you. it kept me from firing that shot. it was a sign. you were to live.”

“when it floated around you, i knew what the great mother expected of me when the nantang attacked you.” tsu’tey said as he approached.

you stiffened as he stood in front of you. you had to tilt your head back to see him clearly. “and what…what is it that she expected?”

you winced when he grabbed your hand even though it didn’t hurt. not in the slightest. he touched your extra finger. he fought a scowl, his face twitching. he looked into your eyes and — for a second time — he was staring into you.

“i am to protect you…” tsu’tey muttered. he almost rolled his eyes as a heavy sigh escaped him. “it has been decided by eywa and by the tsahik. eywa is greater than my feelings. the great mother is greater than our differences. demon or not, you have been chosen for something and it is my job to make sure you don’t kill yourself, skxawng.”

“i— i’ve been chosen for something? what?” you asked, grasping his hand. you needed answers. you needed to know all that he knew.

tsu’tey pulled his hand from yours and shook it at his side as if it burned. his scowl returned with vengeance. it twisted his face in a way that was all too familiar. you almost preferred his scowl. you expected his harshness. you had no idea what to make of his gentler voice and softened features.

“i do not know.” tsu’tey said. his voice was tight in his throat. his tail flicked behind him. “i am not capable of interpreting eywa’s will. i am only a warrior.”

“and i can make you one, too, if that is what you wish to be.”

you looked up at him. your ears and tail betrayed you. your tail wouldn’t stay still and your ears stood at attention. excitement tickled your belly.

“really?” you asked, almost bracing yourself for a sudden change in his heart.

tsu’tey grunted and looked away. “it serves as a better use of my time teach you how to fight and hunt rather than help you string beads and teach you how to sing.”

“and if i choose to be a singer?” you asked, raising one of your eyebrows.

“then there are many songs for you to learn, demon,” tsu’tey said with a shake of his head. “but you will learn to ride pa’li. that is essential.”

if he hadn’t tried it so intently then maybe you would’ve missed it. perhaps more subconsciously to him, he tried to raise only one of his hairless eyebrows. it had you biting your lip as to not smile.

you nodded once, placing your hands on your hips. “let’s get started then.”

he took you to the riverbank. the sun was warm. insects buzzed by your head and skimmed across the surface of the water. fish leapt out from the river to catch them. direhorses ate the sweet vegetation that grew by the waterside.

“damn,” you whispered as tsu’tey guided one of the massive direhorses towards you. you took a step back as it stomped one of its feet when he tugged it to halt. “no saddle?”

“you have legs.” he said with a glance towards your thighs. “you will use them to hold on.”

“i don’t know if you know this, buddy, but this body has only ever been in use like four times now. i’m going to fall off.” you said.

“then you get back on.” tsu’tey said with a single flick of his head toward the direhorse.

you swallowed a bit of your pride as he grunted for you to get a move on. you had to raise your arm up high to reach its back. the leather of its skin was tough. it was a tall, powerful creature you knew would buck you off within a second.

“now, demon.” tsu’tey hissed.

“alright, alright…” you cringed a bit and tried your best to steel your spine. with you best foot forward, you tried to swing yourself up.

“bad try.” tsu’tey shook his head and nudged you out of the way. “watch how i do.”

he wrapped his arm around the tendril that hung down by the direhorses neck. with a quickness you wouldn’t be able to replicate anytime soon, he swung himself up onto the direhorses back.

you rolled your eyes. “you should’ve told me to grab that from the beginning.”

“again.” tsu’tey said as he slid down off the direhorses back. he ignored your comment. “this time, do like i did.”

you exhaled a sharp, fast breath. annoyance pinned your ears back. reaching up, you hooked an arm around one of the tendrils just as he had. with all the strength you could, you tried to pull yourself up.

that just pissed off the direhorse and it stomped it’s feet, huffing and snorting.

“you need to swing.” tsu’tey said. he tapped his stomach. “strong belly and swing your legs up. do not use your arms to pull until your belly is tight and you’ve swung your legs.”

“watch.” he nudged you out of the way.

this time, you really watched his form. you watched the way he grasped the tether as a stationary point but swung himself up. he had taken two steps to build momentum. two steps, swing up, mount.

easy enough, yeah?

“momentum. momentum.” you muttered yourself as you grasped the direhorses tether again.

you took a breath and felt it. your core tightened as you geared up to take those steps and swing yourself up. step, step, swing— except you choked. when your leg didn’t quite get up over the side, you bailed entirely and nearly fell flat on your face.

he grabbed your arm and kept you steady.

your ears fell flat as you met his eyes. you could see the scowl threaten to curl on his lips. you braced yourself for harsh words and hisses.

“better.” he said.

your ears perked up.

“swinging yourself with great force is the only way to mount pa’li. you must take larger steps to make that swing.” tsu’tey said.

you nodded. “yeah, i need more momentum.”

“momen…what?” he narrowed his eyes and titled his head.

“momentum,” you said again, clearer this time. you demonstrated the swing you needed to do with your hands. “momentum. the swing. you get it?”

“momentum.” tsu’tey said, watching your lips as your mouth formed the word. his accent was so thick it seemed to get in the way of his tongue. “yes, it is that. you just make more momentum.”

“but how? i mean, i tried doing the same amount of steps as you but it’s the height that’s throwing me off.” you said, looking up at the direhorse.

“pa’li is tall but you are tall, too. try to step, jump, swing.” tsu’tey said. he crossed his arms against his chest and watched.

you shook out the tension in your shoulders. step, jump, swing. his brows pinched together as he watched you take a few steps back. you gave yourself a running start and jumped, pushing yourself up with your arms.

his hands curled around your waist and he pulled you off before you could swing yourself on.

“hey!” you exclaimed, struggling in his grasp.

“wrong.” he placed you down and turned you toward him. “in order to ride, you must make tsaheylu. a bond. in order to make that bond, you must hold the tether. first step, you must hold the tether.”

“jumping on pa’li like that is a waste of time. it is not faster. bad habit. break it. do not do it again.” he instructed.

“alright, alright…” you said softly, holding up your hands.

“strong belly, demon.” he reminded you.

“yeah, i got it. thanks.”

you huffed under your breath as you wrapped your arm around the tether. standing back nearer towards its face, you would be able to run and swing yourself up— and that’s exactly what you tried to do. you ran, kept your core tight, swung your leg up, and mounted the direhorse.

“hey!” you gasped, pupils blown wide as you look down at him. “i did it!”

he was fighting a grin whilst stood at your side. patting the direhorses neck, he kept the beast calm. he looked up at you and nodded once. you could see in his eyes what he did not say.

well done, demon.

“again.” tsu’tey said, pulling you off the direhorse.

“woah!” you hooked your arms around his neck and fell into his arms. as he set you on your feet, you looked up at him. “you are so handsy.”

“i don’t know what that means.” he said as he let you go. his lip curled and he stared down his nose at you.

he thought you were insulting him.

“handsy. y’know, touchy.” you said. for show, you glided your hand along his chest and gripped his bicep in the other. “you touch me a lot.”

tsu’tey huffed and nudged your hands away. “if i don’t touch, you will hurt yourself. i’m making sure you do not injure yourself, skxawng.”

“skxawng. you keep calling me that. what does it mean?” you asked with annoyance lacing your voice. judging by the way he called you demon, you knew it couldn’t be good.

“means you are slow.” tsu’tey said. he flicked your forehead. “in here, you are slow.”

your eyes widened and your mouth popped open. “you’re calling me a moron!”

tsu’tey bared his teeth in a sharp smile. “you act like one.”

“you are such a jackass.” you huffed under your breath.

ignoring the way he chuckled, you once again tried to mount the direhorse. you didn’t keep your core tight enough. you stumble and it bumped you with its hip. the poor thing must’ve been annoyed with you by this point. you were annoyed with yourself— annoyed with him most of all.

on the second try, you swung yourself up onto the direhorses back. tsu’tey came to your side. he nodded at you as you met his eyes. you’d gotten the hang of it. with more practice you’d be able to do it with ease.

“now it is time for you to make tsaheylu.” he said.

tsaheylu. the bond. you knew of it. you’d read about it in grace augustine’s book before they shipped you out to pandora. it was how all living things on pandora connected to one and other. it is how all living things connected to eywa.

“take your kuru and make tsaheylu.” tsu’tey said, guiding the direhorses tether up toward you.

you reached behind your head and pulled your braid over your shoulder. queue. kuru. so many names for it. but there was only one name for the bond you were about to make.

the white spindles twisted and extended at the end of your braid. so did the direhorses at the end of its tether-like queue. as you guided your kuru forward, pinkish-white spindles linked and overlapped as you made tsaheylu.

your pupils blew and your body went rigid. you could hear mighty breath and a strong beating heart. you could feel legs that were not your own.

tsu’tey placed his hand on your thigh. you looked down at him, unaware that you were panting. he nodded once. calm. collected.

“breathe,” tsu’tey said lowly. he ran his hand across your thigh, up your waist, to your belly. “deep. slow. feel her breath and match it.”

you closed your eyes and focused on the way the direhorse inhaled and exhaled. it was much harder to do when his hand was on your belly.

his hand was warm…

in and out.

you focused on that and that alone.

breathing in deep and letting it all out.

“feel her strong legs.” tsu’tey said.

those you could feel without having to try. as she stepped back and forth, you could feel the power within them. fast. faster than horses on earth ever could’ve been. this direhorse had more legs than them. a larger set of lungs. a larger heart.

“when you are ready, think ‘run.’” tsu’tey said as he stepped back.

“run?” you repeated.

the direhorse ran— and you fell straight into the mud.

a soft groan escaped you. the whole left side of your face was mud caked. his shadow blocked out the sun and you heard him sigh.

“a mistake every first rider makes.” tsu’tey said as you pushed yourself up. “you will try again. this time, you will hold on.”

“thanks for the advice.” you huffed, hitting him with your muddy shoulder as you walked by.

mounting the direhorse became easier each time you did it— and you did it over and over again because you could not stay on the creatures back for long. you fell into the mud each and every time you willed the direhorse to run.

tsu’tey brought you to the riverbed not only because it is where the direhorses liked to graze but because the mud cushioned your falls.

“you are not holding on.” tsu’tey said as he pulled you up from the mud.

“i am!” you exclaimed. your frustration was reaching its boiling point and you pulled your arm from his grasp. “how much tighter do i have to grip the damn tethers it has?”

“you are not holding on here.” tsu’tey said, smacking your thigh.

you scowled at him and swatted at his hand. “don’t.”

“you must squeeze your legs, skxawng.” tsu’tey said with a shake of his head. “you cannot stay in place on the back of pa’li if you do not squeeze your thighs.”

“fine. fine.” you huffed and turned away. “i get it. tight core. squeeze my legs.”

“try.”

you looked back at him as he grabbed your waist. your eyes widened as he tugged you towards him. your jaw dropped as he wedged his leg in between your thighs.

“what the fuck are you doing?!” you cursed at him, pushing your arm into his chest.

“squeeze.” tsu’tey commanded.

you laughed in his face. “oh, you’re funny.”

“do as i say, skxawng.”

you had to grit your teeth. chest to chest with him, you had little options. everything he had instructed you to do so far and every correction he made had not led you astray. it bruised your pride to do as you were told.

you squeezed your thighs together, squishing his thigh between your legs. you looked anywhere but at him. he did the same as his hands framed your waist. he rocked his leg from side to side.

“pa’li are fast and they are strong. you must be strong, too, to ride. your legs will tire but falling hurts more.” tsu’tey said softly. he looked down between you both. “you must squeeze harder. i am able to move my leg back and forth without you. squeeze until you are moving as i move.”

looking down, you squeezed your thighs together tighter. you had to grit your teeth. as he moved his leg side to side, yours were glued to him. squeezing his thigh, you moved as he moved. when he dipped to the left, you had no choice but to follow. when he tried to move his thigh upward, the tension in your legs gave the right amount of resistance so that he could not throw you off.

“do you see now?” tsu’tey asked as he met your eyes. he tried to buck his thigh again and could not. not with you squeezing him so tight. “tsaheylu makes you one with pa’li in the mind. you must make yourself one with pa’li like this. strong core. strong legs. strong hips.”

“i get it,” you said softly, ignoring the burn in your face and the tickle in your belly that came with being so close to him.

tsu’tey tapped your thigh and you let him go. he took a step back and flicked his head. “try again. don’t fall this time, demon.”

you dipped your head.

mounting the direhorse, you were quick to make the bond. feel her breath. feel her heart. feel her legs. you wrapped the tethers around your arms and kept a firm grip. at the same time, you squeezed your legs tight around the direhorses sides.

“run,” you thought.

and the direhorse heard you.

with legs that sounded like thunder as they hit the ground, the direhorse ran. you kept your grip tight and your thighs clenched even tighter. gritting your teeth, you held on as the wind whipped across your face. the direhorse ran a lap around the riverbed as it had been trained to do— and you only fell off at the end when you simply could not hold on any longer.

you spit out the mud that had gotten in your mouth. pushing yourself up, you saw him grinning. a soft sigh escaped you. such sweet relief it was to see something other than a scowl after giving it the best shot you had all day.

“we are finished for today.” tsu’tey said as you neared. he picked a twig out of your hair. “you did better than i thought you would. tomorrow it will be easier. clean yourself up in the river.”

the cold river water embraced you like a lover and soothed the ache in your muscles. it washed away the mud caked onto your skin and the sweat that beaded on your hairline and dripped down your back.

you could feel his gaze linger on you as you washed.

and you ignored the way it made you feel.

— 🌌 —

the next day was by no means easier.

nor way the day after that.

or the day after that.

bruises made your blue skin purple. they littered your thighs. your arms. your back. you took the falls like a champ when they happened, but crawling in and out of your hammock each day could not be done without a groan.

until it did get easier.

you could mount your direhorse with ease. mitsia was her name. each time you made tsaheylu, the more your bond deepened. she grew accustomed to you. she did not jostle as much. she did not run so recklessly. she would greet you each morning with a bump of her nose.

you could ride longer and longer each day— and one day you stopped falling all together. leaving the riverbank behind, you rode with tsu’tey through the forest. learning to hold on as mitsia leapt over fallen logs was not as difficult as you imagined it would be. keeping your core tight and your legs secure, you moved as she moved. it became second nature.

it became second nature, too, to compete with tsu’tey as you mastered the art of riding.

“c’mon, cowboy! you’re eating my dust!” you laughed over your shoulder as the two of you raced back to home tree.

he smirked.

racing through the forest, you stole glances at each other as the direhorses below you ran. mitsia and karuk — tsu’tey’s pa’li — had grown accustomed to each other, too. like their riders, they competed to get home first. mitsia’s heart pounded and her breath came hard as fast as she tried to out run karuk.

the male direhorse was older and his legs were longer. when tsu’tey crouched and tucked himself downward to be more aerodynamic, the race was already won.

“i will beat you tomorrow, jackass.” you said as you swung yourself off mitsia. you gave her a gentle pat before joining beside tsu’tey.

“no, not tomorrow. we are finished training with pa’li. you have mastered riding.” tsu’tey said with a glance your way. as you walked inside home tree, the smell of pandoran barbecue made your stomach grumble.

“what’s next then?” you asked.

“you have yet to decide if being a hunter is what you want. tomorrow, you rest and decide.” tsu’tey said.

you watched as he departed. instead of heading up the center column, he made his way towards the olo’eyktan. he bowed his head and signed ‘i see you’ before sitting down beside him. you knew what they were discussing. each day, tsu’tey gave a report about how you were fairing to the olo’eyktan.

you cleaned yourself up before dinner. re-doing some of the braids in your hair, you thought about what tsu’tey had said.

you had yet to decide on what you truly want to be.

you knew you didn’t want to be a singer. you didn’t have the confidence it took to preform. you enjoyed riding and you enjoyed being in the forest, but you didn’t know if you had what it took to be a powerful hunter.

on earth, you hadn’t done more than wait on costumers and clean up messes that they left behind. hunters didn’t scrape gum off the undersides of tables or have to clean matted grease off deep fryers. they were masters with a bow and quick with a knife.

each day that you went to bed and woke up back in the link-pod, you felt less and less uncertain.

uncertain about what you wanted.

uncertain about who you were.

surrounded by scientists, you were not as smart as them. you could help grace log her findings but you couldn’t offer anything more than clicking buttons on the computer. you weren’t fluent in navi like norm. you weren’t as physically capable as jake was when he was in his avatar body.

jake was military.

norm was a scholar.

grace was a scientist.

you were just the replacement for a dead genius.

a blank slate.

that thought stuck with you like a nagging itch as you climbed the center column of home tree and made your way to your usual eating spot. the more you tried to ignore it, the worse it became.

you were a blank slate in a world ripe with opportunity and that had to mean something.

you had few skills.

that meant you could learn hundreds of new ones.

you had poor navi.

that gave you room to improve with those who spoke it fluently and hadn’t learned it out of a book.

you had no muscle.

that meant you could only grow stronger.

in a program full of bright minds and strong spirits, only one of you sat in home tree— and only one of you had been chosen by eywa.

it had not been grace.

It had not been norm.

it had not been jake.

it had been you. you had a purpose on pandora. a purpose that surpassed what you knew about tree roots or how many pull-ups you could do.

if you wanted to be a hunter— you would learn.

and he would each you how. just like he taught you to ride a direhorse in nine days.

“what is it that you had called me today, demon?” tsu’tey asked as he sat across from you. “when we raced through the forest.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “a cowboy.”

“cowboy…” he picked up a bug from the pile on his leaf and cracked the shell with his teeth. he pulled out the soft meaty inside and ate it. “what does that mean? cowboy.”

“a cowboy is a man who rides a horse and deals with herding animals. they wear hats and boots. on earth, cowboys were seen most in the western part of america.” you said as you picked at the food. you hadn’t gotten used to bugs yet. it was their many, many legs that creeped you out.

when he didn’t respond right away, you looked up. it was clear to see that most — if not all — of what you said had been lost to his ears. again, you smiled.

“on earth, cowboys rode pa’li. they were like hunters, except they kept the animals close together in herds. in a big group that they would move from place to place.” you said, choosing your words more carefully.

“they were also like warriors, too. the word is vigilante. it means that they took the law into their own hands and punished those who broke it.”

“is there no olo’eyktan to answer to?” tsu’tey asked, his invisible brows knitting together.

“no,” you said with a small laugh. carefully, you bit into a bug and chewed. it didn’t taste bad. it was good. smoky in flavor— but the legs still gave you the heebie-jeebies. “on earth, instead of clans there are countries. millions and millions of people live in a single country alone. and there are hundreds of countries.”

“millions of people…” tsu’tey looked around the crowded dinner place and then back at you. “and that is more than navi here in home tree?”

“so many more. unimaginable.” you said with a shake of your head. you popped the shell of another bug and tried to explain it as easy to understand as you could. “let’s use you as an example. you know everyone in your clan, yes?”

“yes.” he nodded.

“right. in a country on earth, you’d never be able to meet every person who lives in that country. there are too many people. it would be like if all the clans from sea to sea across the land we’re on now were one clan.” you tried to explain.

to your delight, he seemed to understand. his eyes were wider than they usually were. he let out a soft breath and shook his head, “and these cowboys…were there a lot of them?”

“in the past, yes. where i lived and in the time i lived, no. there aren’t enough animals on earth for cowboys to be useful. there are no more great plaines, either. no horses to ride. it’s all metal and machines.” you said with a small frown.

“is there no great mother on earth, too?” tsu’tey asked.

you shrugged. “if there was one then she died long before i was born.”

tsu’tey frowned. you could see the sympathy he held for you. his face was so expressive for someone so rough around the edges.

“how did you come here?” tsu’tey asked. the question was careful. it was as if he presented it to you in the palms of his hands and braced himself for rejection.

that was exactly what you gave him.

“i want to be a hunter.” you said outright. you pushed aside your leaf still full of food. you were no longer hungry. as you met his eyes, you nodded once. “i want to be a warrior like you and i want you to teach me.”

tsu’tey sat back. he narrowed his eyes at you and took in the whole of you. his eyes trailed from your head to your crossed legs. the bruises that decorated your body had yet to fade. being a hunter was a lot harder than being a direhorse rider. being a warrior was more dangerous than both.

“tomorrow you shall rest. that is decided. it is needed. the day after, i will teach you how to use a bow.” tsu’tey said.

heat rose to your face and your tail swayed wildly behind you. so wildly that you reached back to grab it. he hadn’t said no. he hadn’t laughed. he hadn’t called you a moron.

he would teach you.

he would mold you into a fierce warrior and a bountiful hunter because no student was better to teach than one who was a blank canvas.

“why do you look like that?” tsu’tey asked with a small scowl.

“huh? uh…” you were quick to let go of your tail. your ears pinned and you looked anywhere but at him. “i don’t know…i think im just surprised that you’re agreeing to let me become what you are. a warrior. a hunter. i figured you would’ve told me to start warming up my singing voice.”

tsu’tey laughed. a low, grunt-like laugh came out of his nose. as he picked apart a green-shelled bug, he smiled. “i told you once before, skxawng. if you want to be a hunter, i will make you a hunter. i don’t like singing. i would dislike you more if you had chosen to sing over shoot a bow.”

you couldn’t help but smile. “right…”

“you learn fast.” tsu’tey said without looking at you, “you are determined, too. you proved me wrong when you got back on mitsia after you kept falling off. i thought you would quit.”

“my only doubt left of you is that your body will give out on you.” he met your eyes and shook his head. “you are not true navi. it will be a very great test of your strength, demon, but if you are willing then i will teach you.”

“i am.” you said with a slow nod of your head. you looked into his eyes and kept your chin up. “i made my choice. i want to learn all that you know.”

tsu’tey seemed to savor your words. more than that, he savored the look in your eyes. he saw into you. he saw your resolve. it was as hard as steel.

on earth, you had been nothing.

on pandora, you would be exceptional.

“it is decided then.” tsu’tey said.

you smiled to yourself. you couldn’t help it. looking above, you took in as much detail of home tree as you could but there was only one picture in your mind.

his face.

over the last nine days, you had done well to keep up with him. so much so that you refused to quit even when you took a particularly bad fall off mitsia. you couldn’t let him know that it hurt. pride kept you stubborn— but the desire to see him proud burned hotter and hotter each time you tried.

tsu’tey was a good teacher. he was handsy and harsh, but he was the only person capable of teaching you. he could handle your stubbornness as well as you could handle his. while he scolded you and smacked you on the back of the head when you would do incredibly stupid and dangerous things, he was quick to congratulate and reward you, too.

not all his edges were rough.

most. but not all.

“here,” tsu’tey said. he tossed you a pouch as you climbed down into your hammock.

“what is this?” you asked.

sitting on your knees, you opened the pouch. dumping it into your hand, a palm-size carving of a direhorses fell out.

it was mitsia.

when you looked up to thank him, he was gone. the flap to his hanging hut closed as he disappeared inside.

you bit back a smile as you laid down in your hammock. holding up the carving, you admired the craftsmanship. for the last three days, you would wake to him sitting on the branch beside your hammock. he had been whittling something. wood chips would be piled beside him. he would be quick to tuck away his work and sheath his knife as you awoke.

in the morning hours you were not here, he carved as he watched you sleep without dreaming.

you kept the carving of your direhorse close to your chest as you laid back. closing you eyes, you wished to dream. in this body, you wanted to dream of thundering hooves and tsutey’s sharp smile.

the whirr of the link-pod greeted you. the hatch opened and the bright, white lights of the lab made your eyes burn. home tree at this hour was dark and quiet. the avatar lab was always busy. pushing yourself out of the pod, you rolled out the stiffness in your shoulders.

“long day again, huh?” norm turned in his chair as you passed by. he was studying slides under one of the microscopes. “what did he have you doing this time?”

“hey, no talking until after she logs.” grace said without bothering to look away from the computer she typed at. “detail the day while it’s fresh in your mind.”

“yeah, yeah…” you mumbled as you made your way over to a chair in the corner.

the blinking red light told you the tiny camera was recording you. that and the fact that you could see your face displayed on the screen as the time ticked by. you gave your name, your badge number, and the date before detailing the events of today. you hated logging. you hated sitting at that desk and recalling everything you’d done.

you hated it because it made you miss him.

the feeling was new to you. it crept up on you like a cold. each hour spent outside of your avatar had you growing sicker and sicker with the feeling.

the feeling of longing that came with wanting to be in home tree. wanting to wake up— really wake up in your hammock. being up early enough to eat breakfast with the clan.

with him.

you liked to argue with him. you could see the slight smile on your lips each time you spoke about him in your video logs. you hated that you smiled— but you couldn’t help it. apart from jake, tsu’tey was the only person you felt you had any kind of rapport with. he could be mean and calloused— but he was also the only person on this giant blue moon who spent any meaningful time with you.

jake kept you company at breakfast and dinner. he played card games with you before bed. he was easy to talk about human life to. you expressed your grief to him— as hard as it was — because he understood. he lost his brother like you had lost your sister. he, too, felt like an imposter in the avatar labs.

the bond you two shared was solid.

he could make you smile. he could make you laugh. he could make you cry. he could make you feel as though you did belong here in the RDA. he was a comforting presence that you hadn’t known you needed after the death of your sister had left a hole in your heart.

jake didn’t fill the hole— but he did a damn good job of making it hurt less.

tsu’tey was not your friend.

unlike jake, tsu’tey refused to be labeled as such— and yet he acted like one. he was a strict teacher. that much could not be denied. he worked you to the point of bruises…but at the same time, he consoled every hurt. he checked every bump. he tended to every scratch.

he may not have known you like jake knew you, but he spent the most time with you. he spent hours and hours alongside you. his days started and ended with you. teaching you. correcting you. yelling at you. bickering with you. teasing you. smiling at you.

jake knew your story.

he knew your heartache.

he knew your fears.

tsu’tey knew your hopes.

he knew your strength.

he knew your hunger for life.

in so many ways you couldn’t quite put into words, tsu’tey was the only one to know you. what you were. what you were capable of. what drove you. what focused you. what lit a fire under your ass. what strength you had in your heart.

on earth, you had been nothing. just another person on a dying planet. you had no plans because there were no plans to have. you had no money. not enough to be comfortable. not enough to find happiness. you had no family. sickness and poverty had withered them all away. with the death of your sister, you may as well have died, too.

on pandora, you had the chance to be anything you wanted to be. a warrior. a hunter. a singer. a scientist. a gardener. a solider. there were so many things you could be— yet you hardly knew who you were.

each day you got into that link-pod, it was a constant battle of which one was real.

which you was real?

you knew the version of you that could no longer exist. the girl from earth had died when her sister passed— and whoever emerged from the smog keeping you wilted was new. she was a stranger to everyone around her.

including you.

which is why you chose to be strong. if you could be anything on pandora, you would be strong. you would be brave. you would be kind.

who you chose to be was a mirror of the first person to look into your eyes and see you.

tsu’tey knew you better than anyone in this lab ever could because he watched you find yourself more and more within the forests of pandora.

you liked the sun. it felt good on your skin. you liked to swim in the river. it felt good to be weightless. you liked to ride and you liked to run. you liked to laugh. you liked to learn. you liked to try and try again when you failed.

while the avatar drivers you had been separated from on your first ground excursion worked on understanding the forest around them on a cellular, scientific level— you worked on understanding the forest on a personal level.

you scraped your knees on the forest floor. you climbed the towering trees. you formed tsaheylu with pa’li. you had been blessed by the atokirina.

grace saw the forest through the lens of a microscope while you saw the forest through his eyes.

“tsu’tey told me as we rode today that all energy is only borrowed. it is through that energy gifted by eywa that we are blessed to live long, fulfilling lives. when we die, we return that energy to her.” you said, rubbing your hand along your jaw. “i wonder if that applies to us demons…”

you smiled at the camera. “well, that’s about all. the same old same old. horses and riding. riding and horses. tsu’tey said that tomorrow is my rest day. i wonder what kind of trouble i’ll get myself into on a day like that.”

when the red light turned off, you sighed. rubbing your face, all you wanted was to go to bed but you couldn’t. you needed to eat and drink something. even though you had such recent memories of eating dinner in home tree that tricked your mind into thinking you were full— your stomach growled and gnawed at itself.

“hey, hot-shot.” you said as you sat down in the mess hall beside jake. he was already halfway done with his dinner.

“hey there, forest girl.” jake said with a grin. “you’re back pretty late again. get thrown off your horse at all today?”

“nah. i’ve got that horse-riding shit on lock down.” you said as you took a bite of your dinner. the food tasted weird. it always did. you tried your best to ignore it. “how was your day?”

“boring. all i do is stand around while grace and norm scurry around the woods together and put dirt into jars. i dunno how tommy found any of this shit interesting. i mean, pandora is awesome but the science work i see grace and norm do is like watching paint dry.” jake said with a sigh.

you laughed and frowned at him. “i wish you could come to home tree and spend a day with me and tsu’tey. i don’t think he’d like you very much, but at least it would be something for you to do. it would be like basic training but navi style.”

“i wish i could, too. im jealous that you get to spend your days running around in the woods while im stuck with the know-it-all’s. but i live vicariously through you in your stories.”

“is it fun?” jake asked. he smiled. “yknow, riding those big ass horses?”

you smiled, too. “so much fun. you’d love it. you’d be good at it. i bet you’d master it faster than me.”

jake offered to stay with you while you finished your dinner even though he’d finished first. you enjoyed his company. sitting together, you talked mindlessly about hobbies the two of you had. on earth, jake had liked to go to bars and gamble while you had liked to come home from work and rot in front of the tv. no matter what was on, you would watch it. any show. any movie. it didn’t matter what it was because all it was was an escape from the shithole you lived in and the dying world outside your window.

“excuse me, miss ramsey?”

you looked over your shoulder as your name was called. a solider dressed in camo stood with his arms behind his back.

“yeah?” you asked, raising one of your eyebrows.

“if you could follow me please, colonel quaritch wants to speak with you.”

you met jake’s eyes in time to see his brows raise. with a small flick of his head, he silently told you to get going. you got up form where you were sitting, cleared away your mess, and followed behind the solider. as you walked, you saw the corporal insignia on his uniform.

“in here.” the corporal said, pushing open a set of double doors. “sit tight. he’ll be here shortly.”

the doors shut with an eery silence as the corporal left you alone. you’d been in this room once before. on your first day at hell’s gate, you’d been brought here and given a briefing. the lights were off. only moonlight spilled in through the massive windows. slowly, you took a seat on one of the cold metal chair.

minutes ticked by in silence.

it was so silent that it was deafening. it was the kind of quiet that was loud. you could hear every little sound. your breath. muffled footsteps from the floor above. faint grumbling from machines outside.

you knew what this was.

you had seen enough old detective movies to know that you were put in a room by yourself to induce worry. worry led to overthinking. overthinking led to over-talking. over-talking made it hard to lie.

the doors swinging open made you jump.

“sorry to make you wait,” colonel miles quaritch said as he strode into the room. “the dangers on this god forsaken planet never seem to cease.”

you nodded as he approached. he turned a chair around and sat backwards on it beside you. he smelled of gun powder and alcohol. it burned your nose. the scar on his face had made you uneasy from the moment you saw him for the first time. you wonder what did it. nantang? palulukan? something worse?

“i read your file, miss ramsey.” the colonel said as he folded his hands against the back of his chair. “im sorry to hear about your sister’s passing.”

“thank you.” you said softly. too softly.

“what luck the avatar program has in seeming to recruit scientists who have twins, huh? you and corporal sully are two miracles for this place. without you two, the RDA would’ve lost more billions than they could afford to make back.”

unsure of what to say, you tried your best to smile. as the colonel looked into your eyes, you found it hard to keep that smile. there was something about him that made you feel small. his eye were empty. they were cold. you felt like a rabbit who’d caught the attention of a wolf.

“i watched a couple of your video logs. you got separated from your team and you’ve been taken in by the natives, yes?” the colonel asked.

you nodded once. “yes…”

“as head of security, it’s my job to make sure my people are safe. you’re one of my people, miss ramsey, which means that avatar body you control is, too. to be honest with you, i’d say you’re now one of the most essential people in this hell hole.”

“i have a job for you, missy. i want you to gather intel about the natives for me and record it in your video logs. find out how they operate. find out what it would take to make peace with them.”

your stomach sank.

peace was still being sought.

you were so wrapped up in day to day life in home tree that you forgot that the relationship between the navi and the RDA was unfriendly in every sense of the world.

it made you feel queasy to remember your first night in the forest. sweat pooled in your palms as you recalled seeing him for the first time. those glowing eyes. that bow half-drawn, aiming for your chest.

tsu’tey had every intention of killing you.

and he would’ve if eywa hadn’t stopped him.

the colonel leaned in and asked in a low voice, “do you think you can do that for me?”

“yes, sir.” you whispered. slowly, you nodded. the only thing you could do was nod. “of course.”

“that’s good.” the colonel said with a smile. he tapped his hands on the metal of his chair as his smile grew and grew. “that’s real good, miss ramsey. you’re going to be a great deal of help to me and you’ll be making the lives of everyone here all the safer. besides, it’ll be easier to answer to me than it is to answer to dr. augustine.”

you smiled, too. you forced your lips to show your teeth and you dipped your head. “ah, she’s not so bad…but i will say i’m more keen on tactical work than computers.”

“i like to hear that.” the colonel said. “have you given any thought to enlisting? it could benefit you a lot here in hell’s gate.”

“truthfully, no. i’m not really sure what role it is i play here and i’m not too sure if i’ll pick one at all. i’m here to fill my sisters shoes in any way that i can. right now, it seems my job is to keep learning.” you said.

the colonel seemed to roll your words between the tips of his fingers. “knowledge is power— and i need all the knowledge i can get my hands on. study the natives as close as they’ve been studying you and in time, you won’t need to fill any shoes that aren’t your own.”

“your sister may have been selected to aide dr. augustine in her studies so that she can write a second book that no one will bother to read— but you? you’ve been chosen by me to ensure the security of the men and women on this base. to me, that is far more important than what you can see under a microscope.” the colonel said.

“i understand, sir.” you said with another dip of your head. “i’ll make sure to detail my findings in my logs.”

“good.” the colonel said as he stood. “you have a good rest of your night, miss ramsey. we will be in touch.”

as he walked passed you, your heart returned to its place in your chest and not lodged up into the back of your throat. you uncurled your hands from fists and rubbed them up and down your thighs to wipe away the sweat. you felt as though you could breathe.

“oh and miss ramsey?”

“yes?” you asked, turning your head.

the colonel stopped by the door and said, “make sure not to tell any of your scientist friends about this little arrangement. grace augustine gets very unhappy knowing i’ve stuck my nose into her program.”

“sure,” you said softly. “no problem.”

the colonel left without another word.

you nearly crumbled into a pile of ashes. curling over the table, you rested your face against the cold metal. your heart was racing in your chest. it was hard to breathe around the pressure on your shoulders and the tightness in your throat.

what the hell are you doing, you idiot?

you had no answer for yourself.

covering your head with your arms, anxiety burned your belly. it put a sour taste in your mouth.

you were now on the colonels radar.

he expected information out of you. he expected answers— unlike grace who expected results.

in bed, you could hardly sleep. tossing and turning, you couldn’t lay still. it felt like there were ants in your sheets. each time you felt comfortable, tsu’tey scowl flashed in your mind.

what you were going to do was wrong.

you knew in the core of your being that spying on the clan and handing over your findings to the RDA was wrong.

but what choice did you have?

you had chosen to be a warrior— and yet you had been chosen to be a spy.

you buried your face into your pillow and tried your best to ignore the way shame made you feel.

it brought you shame to know that each time you’d log the events of the day, miles quaritch would watch your recordings and use them to his advantage. and the worst part was that you couldn’t just spew bullshit. you had been tasked with learning how they operated. learning how they functioned not just as a people but as a united force. if you didn’t make the right reports with the right kind of information, what would happen to you?

you had no idea.

you did know, though, that you’d never be allowed to touch a link-pod again.

the avatar body you’d grown to love would lay a husk until it died. you’d be ripped from the forest like a weed out of the ground. you’d never be able to feel mitsia’s heart. you’d never be able to sit in home tree and listen to the people sing.

you’d never get to see tsu’tey again.

he tolerated you because you looked like him. blue, tall, and freckled with bioluminescence, your avatar did it’s job of seeming normal enough to even the mightiest warrior. even if he’d never admit it, over the last nine days you had become familiar. he wasn’t very fond of you and he was definitely not your friend— but at the very least, you were familiar to him.

he would shoot you dead if he saw you standing before him as the alien you truly were.

that was something you couldn’t risk.

your admiration for him and your hunger to learn from him was not something you could let slip away— so you would do what the colonel asked of you.

in order to run through the forest and bicker with him, you’d do as miles quaritch asked. and you would do so carefully. cautiously. as gently as you could— because you did not want was to lose the freedom you’d been given. you didn’t want to lose the life you had just begun to lead. you didn’t want to be trapped inside metal walls and crowded by machines and pollution any longer.

and the last thing you ever wanted to do was hurt him.

eywa had given tsu’tey a sign protect you. when the atokirina landed on his bow, it had been a duty gifted to him. he protected you from the nantang— from himself. and he would continue to protect you from anything that tried to harm you.

tsu’tey had given you a purpose. when he carried you to home tree and took on the burden of becoming your teacher, he’d given you a second chance at life.

it was now your turn to protect him.

from the RDA.

from the colonel.

and maybe even from yourself.

thanks for reading :)

next chapter >

[lilozzzyo3569]

DBF!Captain Price x F!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend dumps you, so you decide to move out and now you're completely alone. You had managed to keep in touch but after your break up you kind of fell off the face of the earth. So he decides to use some "special connections" to find you. Only to see you are perfectly safe but are now alone.

Warnings: MDNI, female reader is smaller then our lovely Captain (duh man is MASSIVE), I don't own this man (but I guess I wasn't meant to be happy), Female Reader in her mid to late 20s and Captain is in mid 40s, A bit angsty, Reader has curves and hair and John has got it bad for you, Suggestive Smut, John and reader have had a couple drinks but are not inebriated!, Dirty mouth John, Slight sir kink, dry humping on the couch

It was Friday night another long day, you were only two sips into your first jack and coke in and had decided to put on a tank top and a little pair of shorts and order a pizza. A bit later you hear a knock at the door, expecting your pizza but instead you are greeted by Captain John Price standing there looking very pissed off. You had just moved into your new apartment after your boyfriend had decided to dump you out of nowhere. Feeling so embarrassed and hurt you didn't even tell your father or anyone because they had all warned you that he was no good. So imagine your surprise to see Your fathers best friend staring down at you with a mix of irritation and anger. "Why did you move, and why are you here, and when did you move here, do you have any idea how hard it was to find you, where is that wanker?" You sigh deeply before moving so he can continue taking off his shoes and walking in to look around your new apartment. He follows you to the kitchen to join you for a drink, you fix him a whiskey neat before finishing your jack and coke. You finish it before finally speaking "He dumped me so congrats all of you were right." You roll your eyes bending over to make another drink, unaware of the way John's eyes softened after the news. "I'm sorry lass, why didn't you tell us at least your dad?" You finish making your drink, before holding in your tears as you say. "What so he could tell me that he was right and that I never should've gotten involved with him and that I was the idiot that stuck up for him and stood by him and put up with all of his bullshit even with all of the signs that he would end up doing something like this to me and I was still stupid enough to give him all of my time energy and love just for it to all to mean absolutely nothing. Now I'm alone here with nothing but the knowledge that I was the idiot who believed a man who could never love me."

By the end of your rant you were crying and seeing you like this broke John's heart, he had met you for the first time when you came home from college for your father's fourth of July party. This was the first year John was actually able to attend. He had only heard of you from your father and he of course described you as the most amazing human to ever grace the earth, he pegged you as a daddy's girl and he was right. You were the apple of your fathers eye and when he finally got to meet you all the oxygen got ripped from his lungs. Your father had ushered you over to meet him and you looked up at him and said "pleasure to meet you captain, my father speaks highly of you, even though he does that for everyone, a bit of a pushover this one" you say nudging your father making John laugh, you shook his hand and excused yourself to go back to the party. Since that moment John has been fascinated by you, especially when he learned you would be moving closer to his home, you would write him when he was deployed, call him when he was home and you need help since your pansy ass boyfriend wasn't very handy. He cared about you deeply and more than you would every know and when he learned of your relationship from your father he immediately knew that the tosser didn't deserve you. So now seeing you in tears his heart breaks for you, he walks over and wraps you in a harsh bear hug, his large form completely swallowing yours. "I just don't know what I did wrong" you sob into his chest before he looks down at you and grabs your shoulders pulling you back to look up into his eyes. "No! I promise you did nothing wrong that idiot didn't deserve you. You are intelligent, witty, loving, caring, kind, understanding, adorable, strong, and absolutely beautiful and if that boy couldn't see that the there was something chemically wrong with him, not you love. And if you want me to go explain that to him, I would gladly do that for you." You giggle softly up at him before shaking your head, making him smile down at you. He gently wipes your tears and hold your chin to look up at him getting lost in your big innocent eyes. "Besides how could anyone not love you, you're perfect love." Almost as if gravity is pulling you towards him you notice his eyes flicker down to your lips and back to your eyes before you bite your lip and move to your tip toes to get closer to him as he leans down. Your lips are so close you can feel his beard touching your lips before you hear your doorbell ring effectively breaking the spell you both were under. You giggle breathlessly as you move out of his grasp to grab the pizza.

You open the door to grab the pizza, opening the door to see a man holding the pizza before smiling at you. "Well hello gorgeous, did you order a large sausage?" he said with a wink before you rolled your eyes, the man looked cocky wiggling his eyebrows before all of a sudden he looked as if he had seen a ghost, before stammering. "Can I help you mate?" John asked behind you with his arms crossed looking even larger and more intimidating than you had ever seen him look before. "N-n-no ss-s-s-ir, I-I-I didn't I-um I'm sorry" he quickly hands you the pizza before running away as if his life depended on it. You turn to peer up at John looking annoyed with his eyebrows furrowed as he looked down only just now noticing what you were wearing the tiny tank top that barely contained your curves and a tiny pair of shorts that hardly covered your luscious rear, making his mouth almost start watering. You smiled asking "Jeez did you have to scare him half to death?' you chuckled as you pass him to walk to the couch. John chuckled biting his lip watching your body as you sway toward the couch as he follows grabbing your drinks, eyeing you as if you were prey. You sit and start to eat a slice of pizza as you scan for something to watch. John hesitantly takes the opportunity to wrap his arm around you. You snuggle up to him as he eats a couple slices as well.

After finishing up the pizza, mostly John, he gets up to put your pizza away and grab another drink for himself. While walking back to the couch he notices you have turned it to some romantic comedy or something and were starting to tear up. He tells you to scoot over before positioning himself in the corner of he couch opening his legs and telling you to sit on his lap. You bite your lip, as you crawl into his lap before he wraps his strong arms around you "Now now lovie, it's okay" he gently strokes your hair trying to soothe you before turning the channel to some crappy horror movie. You turn and cuddle into his warm chest as he rubs your back trying to ignore how your already tiny shorts had ridden up even further exposing more of you soft skin. You finally stop crying before telling him "thank you for being so nice to me" making John laugh. "Please princess I hate seeing you upset, and that wanker never deserved you anyway. You deserve a man who will love you, cherish you, appreciate you, respect you, take care of you. Not that boy who couldn't see how lucky he was that you even gave him the time of day." He begins to lean down to lift your chin so you can look up at him, with you hands on his chest and his other hand on your lower back. He gently presses his lips against yours, he can taste the only jack and coke you had still on your lips as he moves to wrap his arms fully around you lifting you easily to straddle his lap. He moves his tongue against your supple lips to ask for permission to enter your warm mouth. You open to allow his tongue to take slow tour of your mouth. You quickly move your hands to his broad shoulders while his large hands start to explore your soft curves making you groan when his hands find your backside giving you a firm squeeze making you whimper in his grasp. "See and that's why you need a man and not a boy" he grinds his hips up against yours as he groaning, he can practically feel your throbbing center begging for attention.

You kiss his lips fiercely, biting at his lips as you grind in his lap desperately needing more of his touch. He moans against your lips before moving to your neck and kissing, sucking and nipping at your sensitive neck making you whine as he starts to move your hips furiously against his groin. He groans against you neck "Oh yes princess, you like that? Are you going to cum on my lap? Say yes sir." You release a broken moan of "Yes sir please make me cum." He growls against your neck as he forces you to move faster and harder against him making you throw your head back as you let him use your body, treating you like his own personal ragdoll. Before moving his hands to assertively grab your hips and move his lips up to your ear to whisper "Cum for daddy princess," before biting at your ear lobe forcing your jaw drops as a broken whimper escapes from the very center of your very soul. John continues to grind you along his stiff length still trapped within the confines of his jeans until he finishes hearing and seeing you lose yourself in the pleasure he delivers.

As you finally start to come down from your high, as you feel Johns lips gently kissing your forehead. You giggle at the feel of his stubble before looking up into his eyes still feeling a bit breathless. "That was incredible" causing him to respond with his own chuckle. "Oh lovie we're just getting started" he flirts wiggling his eyebrows before lifting you as if you weighed nothing taking you to your room. Chuckling the whole way.

FIN

I AM SO SORRY THAT I HAVE BEEN GONE. My boyfriend just dumped me and I was busy paying off my debts. So overall life has been a mess! Thank you also for all of the love and support on my work so far, and I am open to suggestions

[momotarotea]

Sonic Big Bang 2024!

So part of why I've been quiet recently is that I've been working on my contribution for the @sthbigbang event!

Of course, I had to write a Shadamy fic. I also did an illustration for my fic, as did the immensely talented @waywardvessel

@sofibeth-arts

and @morefluid-thanwater!

Working with you three was a pleasure, and I hope you all enjoy the finished piece!

If you'd rather read this on AO3, here's the link!

Without further adieu, I hope you all enjoy ARK Angel :)

Summary: Life is a series of decisions, but what if one had gone differently? What if Amy’s pleas to Shadow on the ARK had fallen on deaf ears, and he hadn’t agreed to save the world? The only thing left to do would be to fight to save the world herself, wouldn’t it?

Discovering Shadow in an abandoned lab hadn’t been on Amy’s to-do list that day, but neither had heading into space, watching Sonic almost die, or anything else from the events of that day. With the Space Colony now plummeting headfirst towards the Earth, it seemed that she would be adding ‘begging Shadow to save the human race’ to her impromptu list of tasks, too.

She’d stopped in the corridor to give herself a pep talk when she’d spotted him - fear having gripped her momentarily at the sight of the pitch-furred hedgehog. After a deep inhale to steel herself, she darted over to him at the window, a fire in her stomach and determination on her face. Every step made her feel like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. He’d been nothing but trouble for her friends up to this point, and whether it had been intentional or not, she couldn’t help but hold it against him. He’d framed Sonic for his wrong-doings, tried to stop them at every turn, and now, he had refused to go with the others when they had rushed to the cannon’s core in an attempt to stop the ARK from destroying their world. She hated to admit it, but deep down, she knew he was the only hope. He was the only one who knew the space colony well enough to do anything meaningful in the time they had left - but getting his help would be no small feat.

“Shadow, we need you!” She yelled, practically tripping over her own feet to come to a halt next to him. She couldn’t back out on her plea now. He would either refuse, or save them all. There were no half measures here.

His eyes - the colour of blood, and just as spine-chilling - swept over the expanse of space before him, turning to her.  “It’s all going according to plan,” he murmured, fixing her on the spot with a withering glare. “There is no reason for me to help them. Besides, there’s no way to save anyone.” 

He was so matter-of-fact. So cold and clinical about so many lives being taken away for a crime committed years ago, by a handful of people who may not even still be alive… Did he not see what he was doing? What he was allowing to unfold? His life so far hadn’t been easy, by any stretch of the imagination, but to destroy the Earth over it?

“There has to be!” She found herself blurting, her fists balled at her chest, “I know that people fight over the most trivial things,” she began, voice wavering and tentative, “Some people…” She continued, trying to pick her words carefully and think before she spoke, as she so often didn’t. Rage would not get the better of Amy Rose today. “…may be selfish like the professor said… But they’re basically good. If they try their best and never give up on their wishes… They always have a reason to be happy.”

The pink hedgehog paused for a moment, trying to gauge Shadow’s reaction to her words so far. His face was hard to read, stoic and brooding as he was, and with the whirlwind of emotions swirling in her head she was struggling to separate the facade of nonchalance from any underlying emotion or sign of doubt. She swallowed hard, brows furrowing, as she put the last pieces of her plea together. Her nails bit into the palms of her hands, a tentative step forward bringing her closer to him as she pleaded, “That’s why you should help them out! Saving them is a good thing! Shadow, I beg you, please do it for them. Give them a chance!”

The lab fell into near silence, the only sounds the beeping of long-abandoned equipment and echoes of Amy’s voice as it faded away in the enormity of the room.

His eyes hadn’t left hers, not for a moment, but now, they flickered over her, regarding her as if this was the first time he had seen her, and she had just asked the world of him. 

Now that she thought about it, that wasn’t far from the truth. 

He turned back to the window. She searched his face for an answer - for even an incline of what he may say - but he gave away nothing. Instead, Shadow closed his eyes.The air felt thin, time seeming to fray and threatening to snap. It couldn’t have been longer than a moment, but to Amy, it felt like eternity. 

Then, his face twisted in a sneer. 

“No.” 

Amy gasped as Shadow’s eyes opened. She could feel the hate wash over her. 

“You talk about what they want, their hopes and dreams and wishes - but what about mine? Am I supposed to give up, to pander to people who have sought to harm me? To use me?” His expression darkened, shifting to something that sent a chill down her spine. “Why should I?” 

He snarled, turning sharply to face her head on. “Why should I save them? These people who, by your own admission, are selfish?”

“That’s not what I-”

“I won’t help them. They can all go to hell!”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, welling and threatening to fall. She’d shrunk further away from him with each word, feeling less and less like she was capable of changing his mind, and more like she was being scolded for her naivety. Blood rushed in her ears, the pounding of her heart deafening her as the fire she had felt in her stomach was all but put out by his words raining down around her. 

She’d failed. Fallen short. 

But somehow… something told her she couldn’t just give in. Laying down and taking whatever she was given wasn’t her style. Maybe once upon a time, but not now. 

“But Shadow, I know that under all of the pain you're good! I know you-”

“You know nothing!” He spat, quills bristling as a sharp, derisive followed. “You want to save them? Do it yourself.” 

The fire roared. It licked against her insides, boiling her blood and building pressure in her system. It was like her veins were no longer for transporting oxygen - they were a part of a boiler system that was over pressurised, and the safety valve was ripped away. She was ready to blow, and unfortunately for Shadow, he’d blocked the last outlet for her steam. 

She realised what she’d done when the palm of her hand started stinging, and his face snapped towards the glass he stood in front of. She’d slapped him. Hard. So hard, in fact, that there was already a red handprint forming on the side of his muzzle. It looked sore, and any other time, she would have apologised profusely - but the rage that still simmered forbade her from showing remorse. Before he could retaliate, she found herself racing out of the lab and down the hallway in the direction her friends had taken, straight for the Cannon Core.

The soles of her boots on the sheet metal of the floor drummed in her head, seeming to sync with her thundering blood. Every second mattered. Gerald had given them twenty-seven minutes. Some of that time had already slipped through her fingers, so Chaos only knew how long she had now.

The walkway she was on came to a junction, causing her to slow and eventually stop. The corridor had split in two, open doorways yawning to the left and right with no clear indication as to which was the way to the cannon core. To the left, purple walls and strobing lights lit glass floors and moving platforms, while the right glowed an ominous red, the hexagonal pathway seeming to go on forever. 

“Red means danger,” she murmured to no one in particular, taking a tentative step towards the right-hand door. Rings of light seemed to race up the walls towards the entryway. It was almost as if they were trying to push her away and convince her to go down the other route, but that just served to convince Amy that this had to be the right way. Of course the mad scientist who had set the ARK on a crash course with the Earth would want to keep people away from the metaphorical off switch for his plan.

With a quick scan of the corridor she found a rail that ran along the roof, with a handle hanging from it. If it did what she thought it did, it could be a quicker way to traverse the tunnel before her. Manoeuvring herself to see further down the twists and turns and realising she couldn’t see the end, or even the light that might mark it, she concluded that any boost to speed she could give herself would be a welcome one. With that in mind, she backed up a few steps and ran, leaping for the handle. The jolt of inertia was enough to slide along the rail, and before long, she was travelling at a good pace.

The tunnel twisted, throwing her violently in one direction, and then the other, with lights flashing and dissipating all the while. It was making her feel queasy. In desperation, she shut her eyes tight in hopes of a temporary reprieve, but the lights came to a sudden stop. She cracked an eye open, squinting to get a better look at where the light ended, to see where the rail went once the transition to black was made, but with horror she realised it was the open expanse of a new room, cyan sparks of electricity punctuating the otherwise pitch black. The rail came to an abrupt halt, the handle hitting the stop plate at the end with a thunk, and she was flung forward into the empty air. 

Amy shrieked, the possibility that this was her end, not the collision with the Earth, briefly filling her head as she searched for something to grab or land on. Columns hung from the ceiling, too far away for her to use to stop her descent, and all around her was nothing but blackness. A void.

But, as her limbs wheeled, panic rising, she saw the familiar glow of the tunnel she had been launched from. Had she tipped forward? Rolled in the air somehow to look back at where she’d come from? No, she couldn’t have. The columns were still above her - this had to be new. That, and now that she was thinking more critically, this new light was more orange than red. That had to be the way forward.

Below her was a stone outcrop that stopped just before the orange room. That was her target but she was falling fast. Landing wouldn’t be as easy as it sounded. Not without an injury, anyway. 

She’d seen Sonic spindash his way out of situations like this before, but he normally had an enemy to aim for. Whoever had been here before had done a good job of clearing out any hostiles - too good a job. If she could just slow her fall somehow, then she could land without fear of breaking a leg - or worse. 

Then it hit her. Her hammer. She’d used it before to make a small wind tunnel. If she could just time it properly, she could decelerate just before she made contact with the ground. 

She held out her hands, her signature hammer appearing in her grip with a plume of smoke that was quickly whisked away as she gained speed. Once her vision cleared, she took stock again. She needed to act in five… four… three… two-

Panic struck her. She’d over estimated. The ground was approaching faster than she had expected. Eyes wide, veins icy with dread, she hefted the hammer, swinging it as hard and fast as she could in a circular motion.

A gust of air caught her. She slowed. And, with only a few quills windswept and out of place, she landed. With a deep exhale, shoulders dropping in relief, she allowed herself a moment to gather herself before taking on the next section of her journey.

Amy shook herself. She had to get moving again - the ARK was still plummeting. The Earth was still in danger. And, as much as she trusted and admired Sonic, she wasn’t sure  he could do it on his own this time. 

The path ahead was maybe ten feet long before it dropped into a chasm. Why there was such a large pit inside a space colony, she didn’t know, but it was going to be difficult to get over. A running start wouldn’t go amiss, but even an olympic long jumper would have trouble with a gap so wide. 

Absently, she hefted the hammer, flipping it in her hand as she puzzled over her dilemma. If only she could use something like an enemy as a stepping stone, or-

She paused, closely inspecting the hammer in her hand. An idea flickered in her mind like a lightbulb. That might just do it. 

She shook out her arms and hands, leaning forward and focusing on the glow of the next room. This jump had only two outcomes - suicide or success - and she had to have the confidence to make sure it was the latter. 

Rearing back and filling her lungs with the stagnant air of the chamber, Amy committed to her stunt, surging forward and charging at the crevasse. Her whole body felt like it was pulsing. Between her heartbeat, the cadence of her feet and adrenaline, she didn’t know which to blame.

As the end of the stone walkway approached, her mind’s eye replaced it with the white line of a long jump pit, and a yell tore from her throat. She threw herself into the abyss, leaping with all the strength she could in hopes that it would reduce how long she would have to spin her hammer. It was a new skill  after all, so the less she had to rely on it, the better.

She sailed through the air, the grip on her hammer turning her knuckles white; it would sting once she let go, but she was too terrified of dropping it. There was still so far to go, so much nothing to cross over, but she could feel that her fall had begun. 

With everything she had, Amy swung the hammer, letting herself twist with it in the air and hoping to land on solid ground. 

One, 

Two, 

Three full rotations, and she could feel herself getting dizzy. Keeping her eyes open had been a mistake for her stomach, which churned and protested, but she wouldn’t know when to stop otherwise. 

Four,

Five

Six rotations. The longer she spun, the more she felt like maybe she’d missed the edge, and was just spiralling into the void of nothing below, but something told her that she had to persevere. There seemed to be more and more orange in her blurry view of the world, which surely meant was at least close to the other side. 

One… 

More… 

Turn… 

She slowed, stopped, and staggered, the world still spinning even though she wasn’t. She’d made it. Her idea, insane as it was, had worked, and as her vision cleared the orange glow she had aimed for snapped into focus. What had once been an octagonal tunnel, now squared off with panels of glass, pulsed with amber light. 

Her heels clicked a staccato against the floor as she wobbled away from her landing spot, head swimming and hands shaky. Amy’s grip on her hammer faltered, the weapon slipping from her fingers and disappearing in a puff of smoke, and all she could do was watch. Much more effort might bring about another appearance of her breakfast, which wasn’t something she was keen to experience.

With each step, the haze of dizziness cleared. It was like she was wading through the last of a thick fog, finally emerging into the light of day. Unfortunate that the daylight in question was only the rest of the room, not the end of her journey, but at least the end was approaching. 

The back of the room split off into a T junction. To the right was a dead end, while the left path gave way to a room of shifting, spinning cubes and display panels that showed only the same amber light of the previous rooms swishing back and forth.

Now that her stomach had settled, Amy risked picking up the pace, following the corridor as it curved to the right. Cubes tumbled in the air, bathing her in their warm glow - but she had no time to enjoy it. Chaos only knew how long she had left before the ARK would collide with the Earth -or if she’d be able to stop the collision - but she had to try. Just because Shadow had refused to help, that didn’t mean she had to accept her fate. She could do this. She had to believe she could, because if she couldn’t, then-

The familiar sound of her heels on glass gave way to sloshing and a low buzzing sound. She’d been so preoccupied with her fate, so focused on her goal that she hadn’t realised she was in a new area. Three inches of fluid lapped against the soles of her shoes, the translucent amber liquid looking like it belonged in a reactor, not on the floor. The unnatural, tangerine hue almost gave her pause, but as she splashed through it she found herself having to think fast once more. 

Lazers and a metal barrier barred her way. She estimated that she would be able to slide under the barricade if she timed it right, and that the chance of getting the amber liquid on her skin - or worse, in her eyes or mouth - was worth the risk. She sped up, running until she was maybe two feet away from the lazer-wall and dropping into a slide.

Her nose grazed the metal, but she was under, and otherwise unharmed. Much to her relief, the liquid that coated the floor didn’t seem to be acidic, either, but for the time being that was the least of her concerns. 

Before her was a six foot wall, edged in the same metal as the barrier was made of, and no other direction to go. She knew she couldn’t jump that high. If she were lucky, and had a decent start, she might be able to get enough of a grip with her fingers to haul herself up. Possibles and maybes didn’t save the world, she knew, but neither did people who didn’t at least try against the odds. 

Backtracking as close to the lasers as she dared, she eyed the run-up she’d given herself. It should be enough.

Would be enough.

Had to be enough.

Filling her lungs, she rocked back. A fizzing sound and the smell of burning quills rolled over her. Too far. With a flinch and a quick pat of the affected area, she squared her shoulders, and took another deep breath…

Before running full speed at the wall. 

She charged, picking up as much speed as she dared before hurling herself upwards towards the ledge.

Her body slammed into the wall, chest and ribs screaming with the impact, but the tips of her fingers had caught on the ledge, holding her against the frigid surface. She wheezed in a breath, grimacing as she did, and walked the fingers of one hand onto the ledge until her palm sat against it. She repeated the process once she was sure her grip was sound, slowly grappling her way onto the surface until she was able to swing a leg up and roll onto the floor, panting with the exertion.  

Amy wanted to stay there. Sprawled on the floor, where the fate of the world wasn’t in her hands, and nothing more was needed of her, but she couldn’t do that. Even if Sonic could do this without her, she was sick of being the extra. The back up. The ‘just in case’. But not any more. That was going to change. 

She staggered to her feet, bathed in the crimson glow of the next corridor. It looked so similar to the first, but even though it had only been a few minutes since, that first rail ride felt a lifetime away. 

She crossed the threshold at a run, feeling the slope of the floor dip down towards the heart of the ARK. She was ready for this. She was going to make a difference.

The ground levelled out sharply, more of the amber swill from a few rooms ago coming into view in a roiling torrent past a sheer drop - one that she knew now that she could traverse with ease, thanks to her hammer. With a hop, skip, and a jump, she launched herself into the air, and realised just how far she would need to go.

From this angle, she saw that the orange flow rushed towards her, cascading down and away from where she assumed she needed to be. But, it plateaued - and presumably, flowed in the opposite direction on the other side. 

Smoke billowed around her as the hammer materialised, but quickly dispersed as she spun in the practised cyclone that had delivered her safely across the chasm before.

The world around her was a blur, flashes of colour and light that only made sense when she broke from the tornado she had created and let herself take it all in. She could see now that she had been right about the flow of water. It did flow the other way, with an equally steep slope that flowed into a pipe. That had to be it. The inlet to the canon core. 

Her trajectory landed her just past the section of level ground, a few paces into the decline, and the flow swept her off her feet with a splash. Control would be hard won, she realised, as her form took the path of least resistance, swerving from left to right at an increasingly alarming pace. When her body started to rotate, threatening to have her careen down the space-age log flume head first, she felt her heart skip a beat. Relinquishing the control of her direction was one thing, but her orientation was something that wasn’t up for debate. 

Small adjustments to compensate for the swivel seemed to keep her facing the right direction, much to her relief. “Thank Gaia,” she found herself whispering, hoping that her small praise would be enough to convince any higher power that she was grateful for this mercy, and to continue sending it her way. 

A crackle filled the air, the sound of an intercom creaking to life. Amy glanced around to find the speaker, even though she knew it would be of no use to her to know where it was. She was left only with the sound of a vaguely familiar voice echoing around the pipe she was stuck in.

“All of you ungrateful humans,” it began, tone foreboding and morose. Was that… the scientist? The one who had made Shadow? “Who took everything from me…” It was! A recording of him couldn’t mean anything good. She found herself searching frantically for an exit; Something in her chest told her she needed to get out of this tunnel. “Will feel my loss, and despair!”

As the last of Gerald's announcement ricocheted around her, her body was thrown around the curve of the pipe and light winked into existence in front of her. It was the end of the water way, she realised, but not quickly enough to avoid being dumped onto the floor unceremoniously.

She groaned, checking where her limbs had contacted the ground for any signs of damage - it was mostly small cuts and scrapes, but she had the feeling there would be bruises in more places tomorrow - and dusted herself down, rising to her feet cautiously.

There it was. The cannon core. And between her and it were Sonic, Knuckles, and- 

“What in Chaos’ name is that!?” Amy shrieked. She had seen some sights in her time, but this? It was grotesque. Calling it anything else fell short of the true horror of the lumbering beast that shook the ground with each step. Its skin seemed to pool around its joints and feet, like it had an excess of it that refused to slough off despite its best efforts. Tubes protruded from all over its body at odd angles, leaving wounds that looked jagged and inflamed, ready to rupture at any moment. 

The least offensive part of this behemoth was the canister on its back full of fluorescent green liquid that sloshed with every movement, the glow it provided highlighting the folds and wrinkles of the too-loose skin that covered its body.

Between the disgusting lifeform in front of her and the fear writhing like a snake in her stomach, retaining her lunch had become no easy feat. But, she was convinced that adrenaline was the only thing keeping her from vomiting.

“Amy!? What are you doing here!?” Sonic yelled, incredulity and fear clear in the crack of his voice.

“I asked Shadow to help us, and he refused,” she proffered, holding her hands out and summoning her Piko Piko hammer. “So I came to help instead.”

“No, no way,” the blue hedgehog said, shaking his head. “You need to go back and-” 

A roar interrupted him, the beast clearly annoyed that it was being ignored.

“We don’t have time to argue!” She spat back, hefting the hammer and looking to Knuckles for back up. If anyone would understand, it would be him.

The echidna looked between his friends, knowing that by supporting Amy, he would put her in harm’s way, but by supporting Sonic, he would give Amy the impression he didn’t believe she was capable of helping them. He gave an irritated sigh, and turned to Sonic. “She’s right, we have to get the Master Emerald into that shrine now or we’re all toast! Amy,” he turned to her, violet eyes burning, “You need to keep that thing busy while Sonic and I get to the shrine - think you can do that?”

She nodded curtly, her expression settling into one of conviction as she focused on the monster that lumbered towards them now, trying to decide if she was insane for agreeing to this, or brave for even trying. For now, she would go with the latter.

As her friends raced for the shrine, a heaviness settled on her chest. Her blood felt cold, like she'd had a bucket of water dumped over her and the raging inferno she had stoked when she began this journey had been drowned. This thing was horrifying. Even its movements seemed unnatural, like its muscles weren't intended for its skeleton, and every stuttering step made the loose skin of its joints undulate sickeningly.

She choked back the bile that rose in her throat, refusing to take her eyes off it on principle alone. It probably already knew she was terrified, already knew that she wanted to turn tail and run until her lungs screamed for her to stop - but she wouldn’t. Not today. 

Her hammer felt leaden in her grip. The weight of the world, of her friends lives, of her own future - they all seemed present in its heft. She took a shaky step forward, feeling the fear rise but knowing she couldn't let it overwhelm her. Another step followed the first, the façade of confidence settling over her like a warm, comforting blanket. 

This was it. Her chance to prove herself. “Never fear,” she began, swiping the hammer to her side and shifting her weight to run. “Amy Rose is here!”

The biolizard lunged for her, snapping its toothless maw. If she were any slower, it would have crushed her arm.

She ran to the right, hoping for an opening where she could hit it hard enough to at least give it pause. But the beast lumbered after her, pivoting in the shallow puddle of water it wallowed in and sending ripples over the lip with each thunderous step. 

Keeping a distance between her and its mouth was Amy's top priority. Visions of what would become of her if she didn't played in her mind, and she had to physically shake her head to banish the thoughts. She needed adrenaline. Optimism. Not fear.

Amy stole a glance over her shoulder. She hadn't covered much ground, but already the monster seemed to be tiring. Its breathing was heavy. Laboured. Ragged. 

How was it so tired after barely moving? 

That was exactly it, it turned out. The thing barely could move, and so what little it had already managed was a gargantuan task for its body. If she could exhaust it - however briefly - that would be an advantage, one that was sorely needed.

With that in mind, Amy re-doubled her efforts, antagonising the beast by shouting over her shoulder at it. The lumbering started to slow, and it wasn't long before the biolizard came to a halt. 

Steam seemed to billow from its mouth with each exhale, and each inhale seemed hard won. There it was. The opening she needed.

Skidding almost to a stop, she pivoted on a heel and ran at its side, torn for a moment on where to hit it. The side was easily accessible, fleshy, and likely to do some internal damage if she could hit it hard enough, but the pipes that wound around its form gave her pause. They had to have a purpose. Transporting something, most likely - something that it needed, or else its creator wouldn't have left them there. 

Those pipes all seemed to converge on its back. Whatever they held was either flowing to or from there.

Hoping her guess was correct, Amy leapt. Her mind flashed back to her leap of faith across the chasm. But she had overcome that, just like she would overcome this. 

She crested the mass of crimson flesh, her boot slipping on loose skin as she landed. The shaky breaths beneath her shifted the pipes she'd followed. Just as she thought, they all appeared to connect to a device on its back.

That had to be it. 

A yellow glow pulsated atop the machine, growing brighter with each inhale, and dimming with each exhale. Surely, that wasn't a coincidence? It had to be a life support - or have at least some impact on the biolizard's continued life.

Having convinced herself, she did what she always did when all that stood between her and victory was a metal box. 

She swung her hammer at it.

The familiar crunch of her hammer connecting with metal brought a smile to her lips. The device crackled with electricity, pops and fizzes an audible indicator of broken connections. 

Beneath her, the biolizard screamed, its cry akin to a yowling cat, and shook itself violently enough to throw her to the ground. 

She skidded across the paved pathway, scraping her shoulder in the process. But as pain pulsed through her, she couldn't help but wonder how it had been so easy to defeat something that had been touted as the ultimate life form.

And then it moved. 

Toothless jaws snapped at her, missing by mere inches. She flinched away, scrambling to her feet and bolting away. 

This time, the biolizard didn't make a move towards her though. It's feet were planted firmly in the murky orange pool, and no sloshing could be heard.

What she did hear, though, was scarier than any eerie silence. It was like a blockage being cleared from a pipe at high velocity, a resounding poh noise, followed by stone crunching and skittering away.

It took every ounce of courage she had to turn and look behind her. 

A ball of what she could only describe as shadows tore towards her, purple energy crackling across its surface like lightning. 

she threw herself out of the way, keeping her eyes trained on the monster. Its maw opened again, energy swelling in its throat, and another popping sound exploded from it, firing the orb at her.

There would be no more wearing it out. The shadows seemed capable of following her, this new ball proved, as it swerved towards her at frightening speed. Dodging was the only option.‘Think, Amy! Think, think, think!’ She chastised, eyes darting across the beast in hopes of finding an answer.

To her surprise, she found it - a cord that ran from its mouth to its back. If she was fast, and careful, she could get to its back from there to do some more damage, and avoid the shadows at the same time.

There was no time to second guess herself. Raising her hammer again, she charged, side-stepping the second orb in the nick of time. A yell tore from her throat, half from terror and half from the rising sensation in her chest that goaded her to do better, to be better - to be a hero. 

She reached the cable just as a third ball started forming. With precision achieved by pure adrenaline, she made her first step onto the tube, following quickly by her second. It felt surreal. The narrowing of her focus to include only the pound of her veins, her boots on the wire as she barrelled up to its back. Her foot had been on its back for hardly a heartbeat when she slammed her hammer into the side of the still crackling unit. 

The casing cracked open, chips of metal spraying from the gash. She hefted the hammer back over her head, slamming it down onto the orange dome.

Glass shattered, spraying her with shards that sliced at her arms and cheeks. She hissed, the tiny cuts stinging individually and as one, the sensation overwhelming. 

A familiar rage built. One she’d experienced a thousand times before but never quite this intensely. She swung again, and again, the crumpling sound mixing with the yowling to create a truly ear-splitting cacophony. But in her rage, everything had quieted. 

When the world pitched, it took a moment for her to realise why. The biolizard was shaking, trying to throw her off, but as she fell, her hammer caught on one of the pipes, jolting her to a stop.

Another yowl, the tugging clearly causing it at least some discomfort. She could feel the noise in her bones, the vibrations rattling her. But this could be worse. In fact, this could be a fantastic opportunity to end this whole thing, here and now. 

Bracing her feet against its side, boots sliding on skin too big for its frame, she pulled.

The cable popped out of the socket, spraying amber ichor as it flailed, and for what she hoped was the last time today, she hit the ground. 

She rolled away, knowing that she needed to dissipate the inertia if she wanted to walk away from this encounter rather than limp. Now that her hearing had returned, she could tell just how distressed it really was. The screaming and sloshing as it thrashed in what she assumed was agony was deafening - but it seemed like her ordeal was over. Now she just needed Sonic and Knuckles to get the chaos emerald back out of the shrine and-

Cobalt lightning crackled around the shrine, the master emerald pulsing with power and spinning in place. A flash of blinding light painted the chamber white and Amy threw up her arms to shield her eyes.

Before she risked opening them again, though, a roar shook her to the bone. It was the same sound as the Biolizard had made when she’d damaged it, only lower pitched. 

She whirled, hammer in hand ready to deal what she hoped was the killing blow, and was met not with the defeated form she had left, but one that had reared back to let out one last yell. With the beast on its back legs the looseness of its skin was more prominent, the disproportionate nature of its form more obvious. The pressure it was exerting on its stubby legs made them shake, the open wounds all over its body weeping, blood and pus running over the ripples and folds of its body. 

Her stomach churned, but before her mind could comprehend the truely sickening parts of its visage, a flash of blue enveloped it, and it was gone.

Turning back to the shrine, she took the steps two at a time, reaching Sonic and Knuckles at the Master Emerald’s plinth. “What was that?”

Sonic opened his mouth to speak, but the answer never came. The ARK pitched to the side, the artificial gravity of the ship momentarily failing, suspending them above the ground. “Since we’ve stopped the Chaos Emeralds… why is the space colony still on a crash course to Earth?” Knuckles managed before gravity kicked back in, throwing him, Sonic, and Amy to the ground.

“The prototype is still alive, and he’s controlling the space colony as its falling to Earth!” Eggman announced through the ARK’s communication system. This new information settled like a brick in Amy’s stomach as the trio staggered to their feet. She’d failed to kill the biolizard, and now, it was going to destroy the Earth anyway. All that she’d been through, all that she’d done… It was all for nothing, after all. “He’s become one with the space colony, and is determined to keep it on its collision course!”

Dumbfounded, she looked to Knuckles. He was the guardian of the Master Emerald - surely, there was something he could do? But the echidna wasted no time in turning to Sonic. The blue blur stared his friend down for a beat, his grass-green eyes flickering to Amy and back, as if considering something but discounting it before it had even had time to gestate. “I need to go super,” the hedgehog announced, taking a step towards the master Emerald. “But I don’t know if I can do this on my own.”

Her body moved before her mind could catch it. The pink hedgehog stepped forward, hammer evaporating into smoke, hands balling to fists. “Let me try, too!” There was no room for argument in her tone, but that didn’t stop her blue beau from trying.

“Ames, no, you can’t-”

“You don’t know that! Just because I haven’t before doesn’t mean I can’t!” His eyes were wide with shock, and something else. Awe, she hoped, but equally it could have been disbelief. When he sighed and held his hand out for her to take, though, she knew it didn’t matter. He was going to let her try, and that meant that at the very least, he believed there was a chance.

She took it, the pair raising their hands above their heads and studying the ceiling of the shrine. Like icicles forming on a window sill, their energy seeped from the stonework, forming the seven gems that had started this mess, and would give them the power to end it.

The emeralds descended, hovering for a moment before spinning faster and faster around them.

She could feel it. The tumultuous power, crashing into her like waves. The eddies lapped at her, like ice water around her ankles, and rose steadily until she thought she might drown. The emeralds were moving so fast now that they were a blur. It was impossible to tell one from another. Another wave of chaos energy crashed into her, almost knocking her to her knees - but she stood strong in its onslaught, feeling the cold sink past her skin, chill her blood and freeze her bones. 

White light flashed from between them, hands separating as the power split. Sonic glowed with the golden light of his super form, and Amy too shone, but with a rose-tinted gold of her own. The frigid chill of chaos energy was nothing like her own rage. So alien, so… different. So… other. It was somehow both exhilarating and terrifying. 

Sonic seemed to take it all in his stride - but then, he had been super before, hadn’t he? She’d always wondered what it felt like, and now that she had experienced it, she could understand how he used this power to save the world all those times before.  

Sonic shot her his signature cocky grin, pointing to the roof. Up and out. She nodded, and the duo crouched in unison, extending their legs as if to jump, but instead shooting clean through the walls of the cannon core. 

When Eggman had informed them that the biolizard had ‘become one’ with the ARK, Amy had been sure that he was exaggerating. The truth, however, was much more horrifying than she’d imagined.

Its flesh had wrapped itself around the muzzle of the eclipse cannon, the once loose folds of skin stretching and contorting to accommodate its new metal appendage. It was dragging the space colony with it, under what steam she didn’t know, and was headed straight for the planet she called home. 

“Sonic, Amy! Can you hear me?” Eggman’s voice boomed. “He’s very weak without his life support system. Aim for the red swellings to damage him! You’re our last hope!”

Weak without his life support… Her hunch had been right! The device was keeping it alive, and now, with the machine broken, they at least had a chance of winning. 

The hedgehogs shared a knowing look - one that held the promise to win, or die trying - and shared a definitive nod. 

Sonic blasted off, a trail of light marking his path as he weaved towards the monster. It was slow, cumbersome, but even so, if one of its limbs connected… she dreaded to think what the damage could be. 

They had to do this quickly.

As Sonic ploughed into the first of the swellings, bursting through the thin layer of skin, Amy realised that she hadn’t moved. She’d been staring, horrified at what was in front of her. 

She shook herself, furrowing her brows. She couldn’t just float here and do nothing. 

It didn’t take long to find another of the sores Eggman had mentioned - the thing was riddled with them - but before she pushed off to make her first attack, something caught her eye. 

Beneath its mass, a glow was building. Amethyst and ruby and aquamarine. It was mesmerising, and as it roiled and grew, she wondered what is was. 

Her question was answered as the orb grew and stretched out towards her, a beam of searing energy missing her by mere inches. It was danger. It was pain. It was certain death. 

A fire having been lit under her, she flew in a wide arc towards the pustule she was now aiming for, careful to keep an eye out for the beam of energy now that she knew it was capable of such a feat. The closer she got, though, the more its flailing limbs and snapping jaws made her hesitate. Even with her super form, the hurdle of failure loomed large above her, every time she hadn’t been strong enough, or fast enough playing on repeat in her mind. 

She rolled out of the way as one of its arms thrashed at her, the disorientation of unfamiliar momentum causing her to bounce off its scaly hide and careen down its spine to float to a halt only a meter or so before it merged with the ARK. 

Silently, she cursed herself. How could she help Sonic to kill this thing if she couldn’t even get close enough to its weak spots to do anything? 

It was then that she spotted it - the blistered skin just past the curve of its side. A glance to its head confirmed that the beast was preoccupied with Sonic, and from this angle, it wouldn’t be able to get her with the beam until it was too late - for it, at least. 

With speed she hadn’t possessed before the boost of the Chaos Emeralds, she launched herself around and ploughed into the thin, inflamed skin. It burst with enough force to fire her towards its head, her inert body tumbling head over heels at speed. In space, there was no friction to slow her, no end in sight to the vomit-inducing spinning. Not, at least, without some intervention.

From seemingly no where, its huge head swung towards her faster than it had any right to be capable of. She lifted her arms to cross over her face defensively knowing that she hadn’t the time to move, and was launched by the force of its nose connecting with her ribs.

She was like a pinball in a machine  - moving at blinding speed with a trajectory that would inevitably result in collision.

And collide she did.

The ARK loomed large as she careened towards it, her form tumbling in the vast emptiness of space. Dizziness crept in on her, but before it could take hold, pain blossomed across her back and shoulder.

She’d slammed into the ARK, and from the crunching and crackling coming from behind her, she’d likely hit a window. That, or she’d done more damage to herself than she thought.

“Ouch,” she whimpered. The sound was half-reflexive, half-genuine, as she cradled the shoulder that had taken the brunt of the hit. “That thing really packs a punch…”

With a groan, she propped herself up on her elbows, watching as Sonic ploughed into the beast that had just thrown her like a ragdoll. She felt so useless. Managing to absorb enough Chaos energy to transform had been a shock, as had defending herself against the prototype of Shadow before it had teleported outside, but even now, after all of those achievements she was starting to feel like she wasn’t enough to fix this. 

Her nails bit into her palms even through the padding of her gloves. Giving up was the easy route, the one she’d sworn she’d abandoned back when she’d helped Gamma fight its programming. She had to keep trying, or else what had all of this been for? 

She took a long, slow inhale, filling her lungs to the brim and holding the breath for a second to centre herself, then released it in a steady, foggy stream. The world needed saving, and while she trusted that Sonic would do his best, she didn’t want him falling short because she’d thrown in the towel.

Gingerly, she rolled onto her stomach, aware of every slight movement as pinpricks of pain rolled through her. Were it not for the lack of gravity, she wondered if she would even have managed that, let alone bring her knees up to kneel on the observation deck window.Now that she’d been given the chance to stop, the adrenaline that had brought her this far was waning and the exhaustion was starting to creep in. Maintaining a super form was so tiring… how did Sonic do this?

Knowing that she couldn’t let herself be swept to shore, that she had to stay in the sea of energy until the danger had passed, she forced herself to open her eyes. At first, all she saw was her own reflection staring back at her through a spiderweb of cracks in the glass. But, as her eyes adjusted, she saw something else. Someone else. 

Shadow. And he was staring back at her, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

He’d underestimated her ability, just like everyone else did, and had expected her to perish long before this point. That had to be it.

One, last act of defiance, then. Before she ended this fight and did what so many thought was impossible for her. 

She pushed herself off the window of the lab, threw her arms behind her, and stuck her tongue out at the ultimate lifeform with gusto, before turning and flying back to where Sonic was fighting the biolizard.

 It was childish, she knew, but his perception of her was the last thing she was worried about right now.

More of the pustules that covered the lizard had been ruptured, she noted, which felt like it would at least help. If this behemoth was capable of feeling pain, it had to be in agony by now. Wounds wept, blood and pus and chaos energy oozing from each and every one. This thing, relentless as it was, had to be put out of its misery.

She balled her fists, ready to weave her way towards the monster and hit more of its sores. Sonic had managed to destroy so many of them, and she didn’t want to end up as just the distraction again. She’d done so much today, been through so much. Now wasn’t the time to trip over the hurdle.

She flew towards the beast, feeling every injury she’d sustained so far screaming at her to stop, that she’d done enough, and she could call herself a hero now. But heroes didn’t give up just because they had a few bruises and cuts, or because they’d been thrown around like a rag doll. Heroes kept going. 

With the lack of resistance from the expanse of space, she gained speed quickly, tearing through the chasm between her and her target, but in her periphery, something caught her attention. A white-gold glow - not Sonic’s gold, nor her own rose-gold, but a new one. 

It was Shadow, and he was in his super form. 

“What- what are you-”

“This thing is my prototype,” he began, his blood-red eyes focused on the biolizard. “It’s time I prove my superiority.”

He burst forward, leaving her to trail behind as he slammed into one of the sores at speed she struggled to see, let alone emulate, and when he was thrown backwards by the force of its skin splitting, he didn’t pause to look for another. He used the arc of his trajectory to fly around it, looking for another spot to damage.

This was the difference between her and real fighters, she thought to herself. For all she knew, this was Shadow’s first time in a super form too. And he was dealing with it so much better than she was. Granted, he didn’t need to fight so hard to change the direction he moved in with the help of his air shoes, but something about the ease with which he moved, the confidence… she was jealous. 

“Can both of you hear me!?” Eggman yelled. There was panic in his voice, and Amy couldn’t in good conscious say she blamed him for it. “Atmosphere entry in about 4 minutes! Hurry!”

There it was. Four minutes. 240 seconds. Barely any time left to save the world. 

She summoned her hammer, determined not to fall behind. It felt so light to her now, with chaos energy coursing through her veins, but that just meant she could put more of her strength into the swing.

There was a pustule where its skin met the ARK that Sonic and Shadow seemed to have missed. She pivoted towards it, swinging her hammer above her head ready to deal her first blow. As soon as she was close enough, the hammer smashed into the skin, eliciting a screech of pain from the beast as it thrashed in agony. It swung its clawed hands at Sonic, missing by at least three feet, and did the same to Shadow, failing to catch him with its claws. 

Its head whipped around, more sluggish than it had been when it had thrown her into the observation deck window, and the motion tore its skin.

Now that she looked more closely, the movement of its arms had torn the skin at its shoulders, too.

It was falling apart, right in front of their eyes. 

Sonic and Shadow looked frantically for another swelling to hit, another weak point to attack, but their lack of movement told her they found nothing. The end was nigh.

Amy floated to the broken device on its back, seeing that it still crackled and fizzed with electricity even now. The wires that remained attached still trailed its body, inert and empty of life-giving energy. She jammed the handle of her hammer under the unit, using the head as a lever, and separated the metal oval from the biolizard with a crunch. She reeled back.

The hammer connected with the unit, sending it careening towards the biolizard’s head, tearing the wires out of itself, or out of the biolizards skin. 

The explosions from it started small. The size of a basketball, perhaps, or a little larger, but they seemed to set off a chain reaction.

The three hedgehogs dispersed, re-convening to watch as the monster went up in flames.

It was dead. The Earth was safe.

They’d done what had felt impossible just fifteen minutes ago.

As the three of them regarded each other, Sonic and Amy looking battered, bruised, and exhausted, they couldn’t help but smile. “We did it…” Amy breathed, releasing her hammer for it to disperse into smoke.

“We did,” Sonic beamed. There was something in his smile - relief, maybe, and pride - that she hadn’t expected. She’d thought he was so sure they could do this. He’d given no reason for her to think otherwise. But it seemed as though he hadn’t been as confident as she’d thought.

Shadow huffed, crossing his arms and turning his gaze to Amy. “Was that outcome in doubt?” To him, it seemed as though it wasn’t. Like the moment he was involved in something, it would go exactly as he planned.

“Heh, maybe not,” Sonic said. His smile grew wider, another small laugh escaping him, before he pointed to the ARK with his thumb. “We’d best get back, or the others will wonder what happened!”

He was gone before either of them could speak. Amy turned to Shadow, ready to chastise Sonic in his absence, but found that the surly being was staring intently at her. She couldn’t meet his eyes, instead looking away and scratching at the side of her head.

She’d slapped him, made faces at him, and now, it seemed, she owed him an apology. But first, she had to ask him something.

“What made you decide to help?” She blurted, chancing a glance at him and finding that he was still staring. His eyes flickered away from her then, though - the smallest hint of embarrassment on his face.

“I… I don’t know.” He said, but with the way his eyes searched the speckled sky, she wasn’t so sure that was the whole truth. “Maybe your words just needed time to sink in.”

All she could muster was a tired smile. She wished she could be more energetic, her usual enthusiastic self, about this change of heart. But everything was taking its toll. She was exhausted. She could feel her eyes fluttering, and she ached everywhere. “Well, I’m glad you came to your senses, Shadow,” she managed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We couldn’t have done it… without… you…”

The world seemed to blur. The stars that had been so sharp, so defined, only moments ago. Now, they looked like street lamps through a rainy window, particles dancing in ways she knew couldn’t be real, but they mesmerised her all the same. It made her realise just how tired she was. How leaden her limbs felt. If she could just… close… her eyes…

They closed for a moment, the white-gold of Shadow’s super form disappearing and reappearing further away. But he didn’t seem to be moving. He was facing the ARK, but the jets of his shoes were off, and his posture hadn’t changed from when she had last seen him.

Ah. She was the one moving. She could see it now. Her own glow was gone, and the stars were getting smaller. She was falling. Falling towards the Earth. And worst of all, she didn’t even had the energy to panic. The bliss of exhaustion had fogged her mind, and falling felt like the rest she needed.

She blinked again. The white-gold of Shadow’s form was closer now. Had she stopped falling? No, something told her that she was still plummeting. Maybe it was the angle he was at? She wasn’t sure.

The only thing she knew for certain was that he looked terrified. Ruby eyes were wide, mouth open in a yell, gloved hand outstretched as if he were begging for her to take it. But she couldn’t. It was too much. She was too tired. 

The world went dark.

Everything ached. Her back, her shoulder, her legs. Everything. Even her eyelids seemed to ache, but she needed to open them. The murmuring around her was deafeningly loud and too quiet for her to understand all at once, with a peal of piercing ringing permeating both. Would the light of the world be that bit too much? The thing that overwhelmed her senses? She hoped not. She needed to know if they’d succeeded - if the biolizard was dead. Somewhere in the soupyness of her waking mind, she thought they had - but everything was fuzzy from the point she’d hit the ARK.

Cautiously, she cracked an eyelid open slowly, testing her surroundings in the smallest increment possible. Once one eye was fully open, she chanced the other. Everything was so blurry. The blobs of colour that crowded around her reminded her of her friends. Blue, yellow, red… and white, too. The bat that had helped them was that shade of white, she recalled. Rouge, was it? That sounded right. 

Her head lolled towards the blue smear, each blink sharpening her unfocused gaze. 

“Did… we win?” She croaked, voice hoarse. 

“Ames! You’re awake!” Sonic rushed to kneel beside her, brows drawn in concern and worry in his eyes as they came into view. “How you feelin’?”

This was the most attentive he’d ever been, she thought to herself. It was… nice. The attention from her crush. But something about it didn’t feel as good as she always thought it would. She must have hit her head harder than she thought. 

“I’m fine.” She sounded so weak. “I guess I have you to thank for that, though.” She managed a smile as he helped her to her feet, almost falling when her knee gave way and he caught her. The worry seemed to spread on his features, but he was trying to mask it. She could tell, from the way he tried to force his face back into the cocky grin he usually sported. 

“Nah, Ames,” he breathed. “We were almost beat, but then Shadow showed up and finished the thing off. I started back to the ship, and then…” the words died in his throat, his green eyes shifting guiltily before he turned to look to his left, away from the observation deck windows and towards the shadows that enveloped the entrance to the room. “You… you passed out. And Shadow saved you. He caught you before you - before you fell.”

It was all coming back to her now. His face as he hurtled towards her, eyes wide and full of fear. 

She followed Sonic’s gaze, her own settling on the hedgehog who was mostly obfuscated by the dark. Shadow. He’d saved her life, even after what she’d said, what she’d done - oh, Gaia, she’d slapped him, hadn’t she? 

Her legs felt like jelly again. Of all the individuals to piss off, she’d chosen Shadow, and not only that, but it seemed like he’d forgiven her too. You didn’t save someone you disliked, did you? But then, he had saved the humans, or at least helped to, and he claimed to hate them. 

“I- I see.” She choked out. She swallowed hard and chewed nervously on her lip. She had to apologise. That had to be the first thing she said to him. But how do you do that? Maybe ‘sorry for slapping you for trying to blow up the Earth’ was enough, she wondered, but shook the thought from her head. As soon as she could stand on her own, she needed to have an answer. 

“Yeah, it was weird,” Sonic mused, bringing her out of her thoughts and back to the real world. “By the time I realised, he was already half way to you, and he looked-”

“Worried,” Amy said, and he nodded in agreement.

Amy sighed. Of all the things she’d had to do today, of all the fears she’d faced… Apologising to, and thanking, the one who’d saved her seemed to be the hardest one. 

She tested putting her weight on her legs. A part of her was pleased that any damage wasn’t permanent, but a small part of her still dreaded the conversation she was about to have. With a weak smile to Sonic, she limped over to her saviour. 

He was sat against a wall, seeming to be fixated on a spot in the middle of the floor with a barely perceptible frown on his brows.

“Hey.”

He startled, and jerked his head up to meet her eyes.

“Hello.” His gaze was… intense. A vermillion blaze that felt like it would burn her where she stood. But this time, the heat was… comforting. Like a blanket on a cold night, or… like her own, well restrained rage that burned below the surface. He was like her, she realised. Someone who held part of themselves at bay for fear it would be too much. 

He motioned to the ground next to him. She swallowed hard again, hurrying to settle against the wall and almost forgetting to tuck her dress under her. As she settled, glancing over to her friends who hurried to pretend they hadn’t been staring, her usually steady hands shook.

She didn’t look at him initially. She was too ashamed of herself, and it seemed like he had no desire to break the silence either. 

“I’m sorry I-”

“I shouldn’t have-” 

They spoke in unison, stopping as soon as they realised they were talking over each other. Silence fell again. After a few moments, he waved her on. 

Her throat felt dry. She knew that he didn’t hold her actions against her. He wouldn’t have saved her if he really disliked her. But navigating this conversation would be difficult regardless. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “What made you do it?” She began, chancing a look at him. Those eyes were upon her again, those eyes that simmered with an anger that she now understood was not for her. “I mean- what… Why did you come and help me and Sonic? I thought that you… that you wanted the Earth to be destroyed?”

His gaze lingered for a moment, shifting from one eye to the other and then cutting away to look back at the floor. “Humans are awful.” The silence that dragged out made her think that perhaps he wanted her to say something, but she didn’t know what. “I would have had no remorse if they had all met their end today. I wanted it, even, and you know that, but…” his voice petered out, as if he didn’t want to verbalise what he was about to say. He let out an exasperated sigh. “But you… you were ready to die for them. For people you don’t know, for people who don’t know you and don’t care about you.”

He turned back to her, eyes searching her face, as if he would find something written there that would put his mind at ease.

 A smile spread across her face, a tiny laugh whispering past her lips. “Thank you, Shadow. That… that means a lot.”

He gave a kurt nod, moving to stand, but she caught his arm and his attention again. As he looked back to her, something pressed against his cheek. Something soft. Something soothing. 

It was her lips, pressed delicately against the cheek she had slapped only hours before. 

She sank back to sit against the wall, a self-satisfied smile still on her lips, as his own face started to burn. 

She’d kissed him. This girl, who he’d snarled at and insulted. Who had stung his face with her palm. Had kissed him. 

And, stranger still, it had left him wondering what the sensation would feel like had she caught his lips rather than his cheek, as his face began to burn.

Thanks for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed this fic :)

[oumaheroes]

My submission for the @hws-anthology! Thank you so much to all of the mods for making this possible

Characters/ Ships: England, France- FrUK (But gently… softly)

Summary: The rediscovery of lost relics has a habit of awakening unwelcomed feelings. The past overlaps with the present far more than France realises.

---------‐----------------

Sunken Nostalgia

‘There you are. Hiding as usual.’

England looked over his shoulder at the sound of France’s voice. He was leant against the railings of the walkway overlooking Portsmouth harbour, wearing a light coat and stood as far as he could get away from the main crowds without missing the view. It was a busy day, unsurprisingly given the circumstances, and even where he was on the waterfront people were thronged out all along the railings and in the nearby buildings to get the best look at the happenings out at sea. It was not every day that a ship this old- a rare find indeed for how intact it was rumoured to be- was raised back to the surface. Some more eager watchers had even gone out onto the water themselves; past England, France saw a small pleasure boat packed with onlookers come in closer to shore to avoid an official navy ship, bearing down imperiously on anything in its way.

Maybe sensing his wish to be alone from just his expression, or from whatever it was that connected their people to them as they so keenly were, the onlookers nearest to England had given him as wide of a berth as they possibly could. He stood there in the crowd out of place and alone, a lone island close pressed by a sea of mortal life that dare not come closer than the five feet he mentally permitted.

‘I wondered when you’d show up.’ Was all England said as France approached.

‘You thought that I would?’

‘No, that I’m still surprised by. But I felt you arrive a few hours ago.’

‘Ah.’

‘Boat? Plane?’

‘Plane, then train. You know as well as I do that those ferries are frightful things.’

‘That’s just your delicate constitution talking.’

France didn’t bother to reply. He joined England at the railing and handed him one of the takeaway cups that he was carrying, waggling it when he hesitated.

England took it gingerly, ‘You should have told me you were coming.’

‘What on earth for.’

‘Common courtesy. It is my land you are invading.’

‘I’m invading, am I? Today’s events affecting your terminology?’

England gave him a dry look and popped open the lid of his cup, ‘You brought me tea?’

‘You like tea.’

‘I do.’ England looked suspicious. ‘You never bring me tea.’

‘Hmm.’ France made sure the lid of his own cup of bitterly dark coffee was secure and leant his arms against the railing’s cool metal, ‘Well, your look of disgust will lose its charm if I see it too much.’

‘As long as you breathe I’ll wear it, so you don’t have to worry about it going anywhere.’ England took a tentative sip and turned back out to the water.

Portsmouth harbour spread out around them, deep docks and industrial ships on the murky grey sea. Beyond the harbour and out to the horizon were large, sturdy boats, supporting a large, odd looking white crane that rose impossibly high up into the sky. It looked something like a praying mantis, all arms and disproportionate length.

France ran a hand through his hair to tame it back, and wished that he’d remembered to bring a hairband with him. ‘Finally happening then, is it?’

‘Apparently so.’

‘It’s been talked about for long enough.’

‘They had to invent a way to raise her without damaging her.’

‘I’m still surprised there’s anything of the Mary Rose (1) left to raise. Or damage.’

England made a non-commital noise.

France gently swirled his coffee, trying to cool it. ‘You weren’t on her when she went down were you?’

England shot him a warning look, eyes going to the humans nearby. ‘No. I was moved to another one the day before. A change in gunners, or perhaps one of the captains was unwell; I can’t remember. But I should have been. He blamed me for her loss, though.’

‘Henry?’(2)

‘Hmm.’

‘I would have blamed you too. Poor thing was so heavy in the water, like a round, fat duck.’

England rolled his eyes, ‘You weren’t even there.’

‘I was on the shore.’

‘Exactly. No where near the actual danger.’

‘I’d had enough of fighting you at sea, thank you.’

‘You knew you’d lose, that’s why.’

‘My love, need I remind you whose sunken ship we are waiting to see dragged out of the mud?’

‘Which was sunk from an oversight-‘

‘Your navy’s oversight.’

‘And not from any effort on your part.’

France leant over and kissed England on the cheek, his cool skin growing warm as France stayed close to whisper in his ear, ‘Your misplaced insistence is scaring the children.'

To their left, a small child had wandered away from their family and now stood close enough to likely hear them. He stared up at them, wide-eyed and baffled until his mother clucked for him to come away.

England stepped rather rudely on France’s shoe, ‘If anyone’s scaring them, it’s you.’

They fell into silence, sinking under the general chatter of the people around them and the sound of the waves breaking against the concrete embankment below.

‘When do you leave for the Falklands?’(3) France asked after a while, risking a taste of his coffee. It was disappointingly English, ‘I assume you’re going, now that things have become serious.’

‘As soon as this is done.’

France nodded and nudged him gently with his shoulder. ‘How far you have fallen. Surely your navy isn’t quite so lacking that now they’re forced to recruit your long-fallen flagships.’

England smiled, safely hidden at the corner of France’s eye, ‘Depends on who you ask.’

‘Well, if you ask me-‘

‘I’m not.’

‘You should, you know. I’d give you the truth.’

England laughed, a sharp bark, ‘Why are you really here, Francis.’

France ignored England’s eyes on him and shrugged, ‘Just to watch.’

‘Just to watch. Why?’

‘Why not?’

England snorted, disappointment shown only in the downturn of his mouth, and turned away.

----------------------------

It didn’t happen.

Deteriorating weather, a problem with the crane, some drama between the Mary Rose Trust and the army personnel that were helping them- it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. What was one more day to her or to them, after so many centuries waiting.

That night, quiet and contemplative in England’s small hotel room, France closed his eyes to the memory of canon fire and felt for England’s familiar hand in the dark.

----------------------------

If England was still curious as to why France had stayed with him to watch the Mary Rose be raised, or why he was there in the first place, he didn’t let it show. He left for the harbour early the next morning, jangling the hotel room keys before France’s bleary eyes and placing them silently on the bedside table. France found him again later in the same spot as the day before, when the sun was actually up and thus made the goings on visible.

It was just as busy as the day before. Boats of all sizes bloomed like algae on the water and the crowds watching on the harbour grew larger every passing hour.

‘I wonder if they’ll find clothes,’ France mused before the worst of the onlookers had arrived. It was overcast and cool, the temperature made bitter by the morning, and France stood chilled next to England who was annoyingly content with it all.

‘I doubt it. Been down there for too long, most of it will have rotted away.’

‘I hope there’s still something caught up there. I like it when they find everyday items in these sorts of things: combs and clothes and such. Little reminders of what things were once like every day.’

‘They won’t find much. Far too old.’

‘It would be nice if they did. I don’t have anything from that far back. Nothing fabric, anyway.’

England watched a seagull pass overhead, screeching loudly, ‘What on earth would you do with it?’

‘Nothing.’ France shrugged, ‘Have them restored and put in a museum, most likely. Using them isn’t the point. Remembering and admiring them is, looking upon examples of who we were and how we lived.’

‘Is that why you’re really here? To steal any potential treasure they find?’

France scoffed. ‘Hardly. Damp and rotten English fabric has no value for me.’

‘Mock it, then.’

‘Far more likely.’

England shook his head and picked at his coat sleeve.

France leant his head on his elbow and watched England’s fingers, remembering fat gold rings with inlaid expensive stones which had once sat there. Smaller hands, a youth’s hands- skin stained black with gunpowder beneath torn lace. England had never been able to keep himself from ruining his clothes. He walked through delicate things like cobwebs, hardly seeing them at all, a magpie-like need for finery without understanding its function.

‘It’s strange to think about us doing that now, isn’t it?’ France mused.

England stopped and looked up, ‘Wearing those sorts of clothes?’

France nodded to the waves, ‘Us warring on the Channel. The Channel of all places. Odd, isn’t it, how that sort of thing feels like strangely like childhood.’

‘This isn’t the Channel, this is-’

‘Oh, stop it, you know that’s not what I meant.’

‘Either way, say the word,’ England’s face was serious but his eyes betrayed him, ‘It’s been far too long without practice in my opinion. You’re too close for comfort these days- quicker boats and planes and all that.’

‘There are talks of a tunnel, you know.’ (4)

‘God.’

‘One road to connect us.’

‘Abysmal.’

‘I can be here within an hour or two.’

France was surprised when all England did was give a short, quick laugh, ‘I suppose I’ll need to change my locks.’

----------------------------

Despite several signs to the contrary, eventually something notable did happen.

A rippling of the water, the line of the crane rising, and then the old wreckage of the Mary Rose slowly emerged to the modern day in her metal coffin. From the docks and the televisions, sixty million people watched the blackened ribs of her cracked belly emerge to a thunderous cheering and the cannon fire of reawakened city defences. The first breath of air she’d felt in nearly five hundred years, the old Tudor wood greeting a new Elizabethan age.

Watching her return on modern concrete embankments, her last living sailor smiled widely to see her. England’s expression softened to something younger and boyish as the old ship became visible, as if greeting an old friend after years apart.

France tried to see it through his eyes, past the dark remains and the sludge to find something beautiful or special. Something which matched the colours and the vibrancy of the period that he remembered, hopeful nostalgia given physical form.

It was a disappointment. Nothing remained of the old ship but fingers of dark wood, skeletal and misshapen. All else was lost: the once tall, straight mast, the billowing sails, and her black shiny cannons over a beautiful crafted wooden hull. She had been beautiful. What was left behind was nothing at all but a lump of something undefinable, impossible to see as a ship at all without being told so.

Yet England was still smiling, relaxed and loose as he took in the crowds and the scene on the water.

France shook his head and dug his cigarettes out of his pocket. ‘You look as if she has returned whole.’

To his regret, now aware that he was being watched, England’s easy openness vanished, face smoothing back under his usual control, ‘Shut up.’

France offered him a cigarette, ‘There is nothing wrong with that. Though I admit that I had hoped there would be more. From what the news had been saying-‘

‘This is more than they ever thought we’d get. And even fifty years ago, this wouldn’t have been possible. Humanity’s come a long way.’

‘Maybe too far.’ France cupped his hand around his lighter to protect it from the wind and held the cigarette in his lips. The smoke filled his lungs, sweet and safe. ‘I hoped to see something I recognised. All this fanfare and money and all you’ve got for your troubles is a few pieces of old wood.’

‘It’s more than I had before.’

‘But aren’t you unhappy with that? Didn’t you hope to find more; for her to be better preserved, at least?’

England thought for a moment, flicking the end of his cigarette with his thumb to scatter the ash in the breeze. ‘No,’ he said eventually, ‘I think no matter what she could have looked like, she wouldn’t live up to how I remember her.’

He paused. Then added, ‘Those ships were once everything. The fastest travel, the most powerful weapons, the only way to get safely off my land with any distance. I think that if she had come back perfectly whole, I would find her more disappointing; I’d only see how jarringly small she is against everything else.’

France considered this. ‘You are right in that this is an odd world she has come back to. Nothing is the same from when she sank, not the look of the shores nor even the language. Technology, ideas, religion-’

‘I’m still here,’ England said. A hint of his soft smile had returned, eyes back on the strange crane and its messy cargo. ‘It’s the same soil. Same air, same skies. That’s essentially what we are, isn’t it. The passing things no one thinks about which change on the surface but remain the same underneath.’

France didn’t reply and England coloured, seemingly only then aware of what he’d said. ‘Besides. Who else would know exactly what’s missing but us. I’d rather think about what’s still there.’

‘There I was, thinking you’d gone sweet.’ France flicked the end of his cigarette into the water below them and hooked one arm through England’s, ‘The Falklands ignored for this; I would never have guessed you’d favour sentimentality over current politics.’

‘I don’t.’

A lie, a lie. England young, his small hands smoothing mud over his old torc, hoping to keep it hidden and safe from harm. He could have instead given it to please Rome: new, hungry invader eager for twists of Celtic gold. A lie, a lie- England at his Plantagenet court, eyes on the windows to the sea and the unknown beyond whilst behind his back his monarchy and way of life tore itself apart, a dirty boy in fine clothes who’d have been just as happy in rags if they’d kept him warm.

A lie, a lie. Arthur after Alfred left, more heartbroken that he should have been for the loss of one colony among many.

France smiled, ‘Of course you don’t.’

They looked out to the boats and the crane in silence, listening to the crowds and the seagulls overhead. The unchanging sounds of millennia, birds and welcoming crowds watching as ships with their sailors returned to them.

Glancing down the seafront, to the people young and old clapping and shouting with the ancient city at their backs, England seemed to read France’s thoughts. He stepped closer, their arms still linked- a solid weight against France’s side. ‘It’s all the same thing, isn’t it. Just dressed differently.’

France thought of all the things he’d had and lost over the years, from delicate gold trinkets to wooden shoes, handmade woollen tunics to the finest silks. Different versions of his long life kept safe and lost somewhere in the soil. Whether they were whole or not didn’t bring the past any closer.

Maybe, merely closure was enough.

‘Yes. I suppose so.’

----------------------------

AN:

A huge thanks to the always wonderful TheDisappointedIdealist12 for kindly beta reading this more times than needed and being my creative sounding board. Thank you for your help, your friendship, and for everything else

Historical Notes:

The Mary Rose was, as touched on in this fic, an English battle ship which sailed from 1511- 1545 and was a key part of several major battles between England and France. She was sunk in July of 1545, theorised due to the reasons listed here- overfull with men and heavy, she keeled over in the water when she was turned to fire guns. Aside from this, the sinking could also have been due to gunports being left open (let all the water in as she turned), the wind hitting the sails at the wrong time, or age making her too heavy. Potentially, it was a combination of several reasons. She sank not far from the port of Portsmouth, in the Battle of the Solent. She was raised in 1982, when this fic is set. Learn more about the Mary Rose here! https://maryrose.org/about-the-mary-rose/

King Henry VIII was King of England from 22 April 1509 until his death in 1547. Henry is best known for running through wives like there was no tomorrow in a violent, unstoppable fashion, and spending lots of England’s gold. Much of this gold was stolen from looted monasteries he had decided weren’t very important any more, after he’d turned the Kingdom Protestant from the traditional Catholic just to marry his mistress (whom he later beheaded- yay!). The Mary Rose was said to be his favourite ship, and he tried to have her raised in his lifetime

Falklands War: The Falklands War, a not officially declared war between the United Kingdom and Argentina which lasted 10 weeks. It was fought over the British territory of The Falklands (Islas Malvinas) which lies off the coast of Argentina in 1982. The war spanned April to June, and the Mary Rose was raised in May with the British Army being heavily involved. As both were happening at once, many soldiers involved in the raising had friends or knew those in other units who were at that moment going off to fight. It made things somewhat tense and frustrating, according to some involved (This is the documentary I watched whilst researching this topic, I recommend giving it a watch! It has interviews with some soldiers who comment about this odd situation https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAJgKunmGdk)

Channel tunnel: The Channel Tunnel, the underground route between the south of England and the north of France connecting Dover to Callais, was only built in 1994- 12 whole years after this fic is set. Arthur has a few years of peace left

[strongheartneteyam]

I wet you like water but she stained you like blood.

Chapter 2

Pairing: widowed!dilf!Jake Sully x younger!female!human reader

CW: angsty as hell, Neytiri is dead in this AU, unrequited love, older man & younger woman relationship (y/n is in her 20's), feeling like you're only there to fill in the gap someone else left (Neytiri, in this case), mentions of death and being a widow, complex feelings, talks of trauma, CAN BE TRIGGERING TO SOME, mentions of sex, mentions of sexual fluids, reader feeling guilty about being with Jake not long after Neytiri's death

Not proofread. And I can't even read what I just wrote, without even correcting it, because I have to feed my cat and take care of dinner right now. I'm just praying this stuff makes sense. I'll correct any mistakes as soon as I can. Sorry in advance lol This amateur writer here never has enough time on her hands...... 🥲

Chapter 1 𓆩♡𓆪

You're so much older and wiser

And I wait by the door like I'm just a kid

Use my best colors for your portrait

Lay the table with the fancy shit

And watch you tolerate it

If it's all in my head tell me now

Tell me I've got it wrong somehow

tolerate it (Taylor Swift)

𓆩♡𓆪

Jake was a widowed father of 4, he was an attractive, responsible, charming, older man. And he was also funny when he was just chilling, hanging around his friends or his family. Last but not least: he had a delicious "dad bod", a word people came up with to describe older men who are still toned but have some cute fat here and there.

You were a girl in your 20's, a young xenobotanist living in Pandora, who used to spend her nights alone, eating cup noodles, watching and rewatching old TV shows from when the planet Earth was still a place where humans could actually live in, and feeling lonely. So, when Jake Sully got his eye on you, you fell head over heels for him.

You knew well you could never replace Neytiri. Even after her death, she still had a place in Jake's heart that nobody, not even you, would ever be able to claim as yours.

Still, you could not let Jake go. Still, you insisted in staying. Still, you didn't seem to love yourself enough to say to yourself "I deserve better" and wait for a guy who actually loves you, not one that seemed to only love your company and well... your body most of all, as it seemed.

Okay, maybe you shouldn't think this bad of Jake. You knew he felt really connected to you, in a deep level. You two would talk late at night and he would always be vulnerable and tell you about real personal and deep stuff about his life - the one in the human body and the one in the na'vi body -, while the both of you would eat roasted meat and fungi, up in some tree in the middle of the Pandoran forests. But you knew he did not love you. Even if you could feel his heart beating fast through his chest when he kissed and touched you, away from everyone, never in front of anybody, because you two were adults and knew damn well that situation, him seeming like he was so happy and living his best life with another woman, a much younger human girl, who was at an age where she could actually be his daughter, wouldn't sit right with anybody, not human, not na'vi - given that he had children that were still mourning the death of their mother (one of them being a little girl, Tuktirey).

That sacred feeling, love, was saved inside of Jake's heart for Neytiri, his deceased mate, even after death. He bonded with her through tsaheylu. You, as only a human, no neuro queue to connect with his in sight, knew you could never compare to that primal bond he had experienced with her. But worst of all (you felt horrible saying "worst of all" but you knew you didn't mean it like that, like you didn't care about other people's feelings), Neytiri was the mother of his children. She might be with Eywa now but you knew Jake would always remember her looking all beautiful and incredibly feminine carrying his first born, Neteyam Sully, and his other two biological children in her belly (Kiri was adopted after her biological mom died, a dear friend of the couple, Grace Augustine. Kiri was a miracle kid. Her mother was bearing her inside of her body after her own death, inside the lab. That was crazy stuff your human mind would never understand, you thought. Only the na'vi could understand the magnitude of Eywa's power. You yourself knew she was strong and respected her but didn't love and worship her like they did.)

Thinking about the way Jake must still adore the memory of Neytiri and think about her and even cry missing her gave you a big lump in your throat and made you wanna throw up. You felt like the worst being in the Universe thinking like that, but you swore, truly, that feeling that way was not you being a petty selfish girl, jealous of the man you were currently in a situationship with and not even considering to have some respect for his grief and the grief of his children - who had just lost their mother -, but it was actually the love you felt for Jake manifesting in your body, in a psychosomatic way. The pain and desperation you felt thinking about the possibility of him never getting over Neytiri made you sick to your stomach, it made the bones inside of your flesh ache.

The first time you saw him talking to Norm one day at the lab, his tall, large frame in all its glory, his blue skin so beautiful, his dark blue stripes adorning his whole body in intricate patterns, his long brown hair falling on his toned back, his tail looking so cute, reminding you of a kitty cat.... "I'm fucked" You thought to yourself. "Am I really catching feelings for this older na'vi man who will probably never want me in this way?! Damn, he's still mourning his dead mate.... Neytiri died not even a whole year ago... I must be evil to be thinking about him this way at this moment. Stop that, you crazy stupid heartless girl."

You looked at him again and he was smiling, his fangs touching his lower lip. He had such a cheerful, precious smile, even though you knew he had been through a whole lot of pain and trauma in his life. "He must be really strong and resilient. That's beautiful." You thought to yourself

Jake Sully had the right amount of muscles but still had soft flesh in all the right places, his tummy just perfect enough for you to be able to squeeze it if you wanted to, his thighs thick but the muscles were balanced with sweet softness. He made you feel a raw kind of heat in your lower belly and think about him just before sleep, like you were a damn schoolgirl. Sometimes (okay, many times...) he made your panties slick with your own juices when you imagined him taking you in his arms and kissing you hard, dominating you like you were his. Which you wished you were. Until one day that wish was fulfilled. You were in cloud nine when that happened.

Jake had been in the marines back when he was human and lost the movement of his legs, being left needing a wheelchair to move himself around and do day to day activities. He lost his twin brother back on Earth, too, after he - Tommy - had been mugged. And now, he had just lost his wife to death too and was left alone to take care of his 4 children. Poor thing must have PTSD, if the na'vi brains were able to have the same disorders as humans brains had. You didn't know, to be honest. You were a xenobotanist. Your area of expertise was the biology of extraterrestrial plants, not the biology of extraterrestrial bodies.

The fact that he still was capable of irradiating happiness through his eyes, smile, voice and overall presence made you weak with admiration. And love, you must say. Because thats what you were: weak and in love, all for and with Jake Sully.

Too bad his feeling were not even close to being the same as yours. He loved you as a friend and he lusted over your body. He wanted to protect you from any harm anyone could ever do to you. The bitter part of it all is: he could never protect you from the harm he himself did to you. The harm being giving you pieces of what could be his love, but it wasn't. That was the worst crime he could ever commit against you. At least that's what the pungent pain deep inside the arteries of your heart told you. Every night. Every time you remembered he didn't love you, but he loved Neytiri. Everytime you got reminded of the fact that you were alive and she was dead but you still were not his favorite.

Goddammit. How did you end up competing with a dead na'vi woman over a na'vi man's love? You sure were losing your mind.

But falling in love with Jake Sully proved to you that you were not the nerdy science girl who used to always put reason first and feelings last, that you always thought you were. Not when it came to love, at least. Or not when it came to this relationship.

𓆩♡𓆪

If any of you wanna be in the taglist for this fanfic, just leave a comment 🤍 ily n hope you're having a nice day/night 💓⚘

[cosmohotmic]

The Stars We Share

teen!Clark Kent x gn!Reader

Summary: Your family summer vacation takes an unexpected turn when you form a connection with the friendly farm boy from next door!

(A/N: First time posting any of my work on tumblr! Please don’t crucify me. Clark isn’t even in this one but TRUST there are more chapters coming.)

———————————————————————

When you heard from your parents that you would be going on your first family vacation out of the city in years, you were ecstatic. How could you not be? They seemed so excited to tell you! When, with pure energy coursing through you, you asked where you would be going, your parents shared a look. When they uttered the words “Smallville, Kansas”, you tried to hide your disappointment, you really did. Still, you couldn't help how your face fell slightly, breathing out all the excitement in your body with a small ‘oh.’

You did your best to stay interested as they went through the details of how they found the perfect place to stay, how this would be a great chance to go somewhere quiet, how it was right within our budget! You smiled and nodded.

Of course you didn't mean to be ungrateful. It's not like you expected to go somewhere lavish, just somewhere…fun. Somewhere with things to do. Honestly, with the option between going out or staying in the city, you’d much rather just use that vacation money to do something fun where you are. At least you had your friends here.

You packed nearly everything you owned, all the clothes you wouldn't die of heatstroke wearing packed as dense as lead in your suitcase. A couple pairs of shoes, toiletries, this, that, and anything else you could find space for. Whatever you packed, you had to make it last two months.

Your eyes turned to the pile of books you had yet to read. You had every intention of getting to them, but life gets in the way. You stepped away from the bags you packed your life in, reaching to cradle the cover of a novel your friend lent to you a while back. You promised them you'd read it- they spoke so highly of it after all. You could still hear their rambling voice going on and on about the characters and storyline and world-building.

“You’ll love it!” they told you, “It's about a group of scientists trying to find a new planet for humans to live on after Earth was hit with a meteor while also trying to find the cure for an alien virus!”

‘The Last Hope’, the title read, the background a deep blue, some mix of colors reminiscent of the northern lights. Your finger ran over where the pages flipped up, the slight wear on the spine, and creases where its paper cover had been so lovingly pried open. The unread pile enticed you. With nothing to look forward to in Smallville, maybe this was your chance to work through it.

You emptied your school bag to fit as many books as you could into it, strategically stacking them to make the most of your limited space.

Stumbling back from the weight on your shoulders, you tugged your bags down to the car like an ox tilling field. Your bag of books, which you were sure was heavy enough to count as a second person, sat snug with you in the backseat. The car roared to life, passing familiar roads until you were lost in the blur of it.

You were going to make the most of this. You were going to try.

The house you were renting was nice, perfectly fit for three people with enough land around it to build a stadium parking lot. There was a small porch out front, a single deck chair sat out by the door, and a small table with white rings staining the wood. You traced the watermark with your finger, standing idly as your dad opened the door in front of you, no key required. A trusting neighborhood then, you guessed. Though, you suppose even if they weren't, it'd be too much work to come all the way out here. Not to mention the house hardly looked like it held anything valuable. It was nice, not luxurious.

Getting settled in your room wasn't hard. It looked like a room display you'd see in a furniture store left to sit untouched for years. The bed was made neatly with its navy blue sheets framed by the quilt folded at its foot, the wood of the headboard lightly scuffed and dusted. The walls were strikingly bare. You could imagine they once had something decorating them. The closet was much the same, an empty cavern, seeming completely untouched. Yet, you could so easily imagine it full of mismatched hangers and shoes piled up on the floor.

The more you unpacked the more empty the room felt.

The house had a looming feeling over it. So much empty space…

There were pictures on the wall, a family of three. The house's owner had a son, you discovered. He had graduated high school just last year, the shiny satin glinted just the same in the picture, proud smiles on both their faces. There was no mother present. You could only imagine what happened to her. Maybe she left or tragically passed on, maybe she was just behind the camera. Your thoughts moved to a more optimistic place despite the glaring opposite staring you in the face. You just didn't want to feel sad right now.

You picked up the remote from the top of the boxy TV, switching it on to flip through the channels. News, static, news, bible study, static…You let out some dreary mix of a sigh and a groan, falling to drape yourself across the old couch like someone's discarded coat when they return home. Your parents came down the stairs, your father patting his pockets.

“Hey, honey, your mother and I are going out for a walk.”

“Mhm…” You groaned in response, hand tossed over your eyes.

Again the sound of that screen door, shutting you into that quiet house.

You tossed around, laying your weight on your splayed limbs at awkward angles, as if that would somehow give you the entertainment you so desperately craved.

It was becoming increasingly hard to remain optimistic about this trip.

In an empty house, surrounded by nothing but fields, it felt like a kind of purgatory. An unsteady stillness made you want to switch on one of those channels again, just to kill the silence that pierced your ears.

The pull of gravity dragging your awkwardly distributed weight off the couch worked in tandem with the heavy sigh that labored out of your lungs. You pulled yourself up, feeling the wear of the carpet like a well traveled path, hearing the hollow thump that came with each step you marched up the stairs. You stood in the doorway to your room, the only thing marking it as yours being the empty suitcase laying like a hollow shell on the floor.

You flopped into bed, rolled around, sat up. Your eyes fell on your overstuffed backpack, heavy with books and pages you had only skimmed through. It was a defeated effort, dropping to your knees and hearing the distinctive hum of the zipper being pulled open. You had really hoped you would have more to do, that reading would be more of a hobby to fill the time rather than the only thing you could do other than sit around.

Staring into the face of the cover, that deep blue and hazed with iridescent greens and pinks. Looking through your window, the sun still so far from setting, you sighed.

Cozying yourself in your bed, you flipped to the first page.

[onedayiwillgrowwings]

to my dearest of them all

Consider this a farewell letter you will never receive. I’m writing you this as a proper goodbye you will never get the chance to be given and I will never initiate. I have picked up smoking lately as a sense of consistency, a way to never let you go. Smoking makes me think of you, not that literally everything around me doesn’t, but with smoking it’s different. Maybe because it was one of your favorite hobbies but it fills me with a sense of solace and a melancholy like no other, for I miss you greatly. It’s the only thing I have left of you, the one thing that connects me to you. Smoking is the closest I can get to feeling close to you. I don’t really smoke, except of course for when the weight of missing you every second of every hour gets so unbearable that I seek it out in agony in order to find some steady ground to step upon; so that I can find comfort. You actually will never believe how many letters I have written to you and how many poems I have dedicated to you. I say this is my last but I always come back. You know I think that part of me comes back because somewhere deep inside I still have some hope left that we will eventually get back to how we used to be. It’s quite silly of me I must admit.

Lately, while the process of you gradually drifting all the farther away from me and going places that I cannot reach, it has been getting harder to look at the moon, especially when it’s full. The moon has always reminded me of you, even in darkness it shines. You were my moon. It’s embarrassing just how much I miss you. I see you in everything around me: the moon, the sea, couples walking while holding hands, old people eating by themselves, children playing at the playground, rain during school hours, I even get reminded of you from the sound of people laughing or smiling or even crying. I see you in all of those things because of their humanity and the way they ground me down to earth. You were all of those things for me. You kept me alive for such a long time, it’s funny to think about. I lived for you. And I still do, I want to be here so that I can see you achieve all of your dreams and become what you have always wished for. I will be watching over you through all of it, so just promise me you will do your best. So long as I am alive you will always be loved and cared for, even if you’re not aware of it. You are love after all. The love you have been searching for, it was always there. It has always lied inside your soul and I hope you come to realize one day that loving you came to me as easy as breathing for you were love. You are the love you have been searching for.

Sometimes I still write your name on my arms and hands when I’m in class and I get a little bit too bored. Stupid isn’t? You will probably never know but every time I listen to my favorite song I think of you, simply because just like that song that no matter how many times I listen to my love for it never falters, I will never stop loving you as well. When we parted ways I had the urge to curve your name on my skin as an attempt to keep you with me forever, or at the very least to have something to remind me of you till I let my last breath. I would be hoping it would never fade. But now you are gone. Part of me prefers it that way, so I can love you from afar and that way my love won’t be too much.

You probably think nothing of it but that time when you opened up to me about your father and your relationship with him is one of my most cherished memories of ours. You trusted me enough to tell me. I helped you by listening. I comforted you when the words where too much to utter. I was there. You thanked me for being there and told me you had never expressed this whole thing to no one before. I thanked you for trusting me.

Another moment between us that altered my brain chemistry is of all the times you would refer to your mom as my mother in law. You know how much I hated the idea of becoming a parent, in fear that I would turn out like my parents. But for you I would shove that fear down, because being a part of your family was way more important to me. I would work it out, I would be a good mother, just for you. Please, no matter what happens always be happy. That’s all I want of you.

[lets-try-some-writing]

So a few days ago, I bumped into this.

That just made me think of how much ANGST this au would have. Like Team Prime leaves to restore Cybertron (Ratchet leaves too) once the war is over and a few months later, they come back to visit the kids only to find out they can’t remember them. The Autobots are not happy!

What are you headcannons on this? How exactly do you think the team finds out about the kids? Also, I was wondering if this could ignore the movie after S3 so Optimus can be alive here and Team Prime brought Cybertron back without any issues.

What a wonderfully angsty idea. Don't mind me while I expand upon it :)

Missing Memory

It took some effort to convince Ratchet to come along, but once the bots left for Cybertron, they were hopeful and promised the children they had cared for that they would come back soon. They did what was needed of them over the course of around a year. Optimus collected the Allspark, the team worked to rebuild, and once Cybertron was restored the team stayed for a while to ensure the bare bones of a new government got set up. Then, as promised, they returned to earth to check up on their human wards.

They were met with something they could have never expected.

Upon stepping through the space bridge, they were met with increadible awe and weapons raised at them the moment they entered the premise of the military base they had called home previously. It shocked the team as they had not been gone all that long in the grand scheme of things, but still they raised their servos up as a show of goodwill and asked to speak with their assigned agent. However before they could so much as get another word in, the humans open fired on them, even going so far as to use missile launchers and tanks to try and fight.

The team were in total shock as they threw themselves into their alt-modes and sped away. Optimus took to the skies and did his best to lead the human aircraft following the team away and somewhere they could not go. Meanwhile on the ground the team split up, each spreading out and making a mad dash across the states. They kept in contact over comm links, but remained on the run for days, swapping alt-modes more often than they cared to count all while having no fragging clue what was going on.

When they left earth a year prior they were on good terms with the government, then all the sudden they were being shot on sight. When the team did gather again after around a week of trying to keep the government off them, they tried to find out what had really gone on. Residing in an old scrap yard and taking on alt-modes that were as ordinary as possible (that is save for Optimus who was forced to forgo taking on a alt-mode altogether because of his size) the team spread out to search for their human partners to get answers. Calling for aid from Cybertron granted Ratchet and Optimus access to the materials needed to set up a base without the aid of the human government, hiding them from the prying eyes of humans with the use of cloakers. All the while the team, save for Knockout who opted to remain on Cybertron throughout the debacle, quietly began doing recon to find their human wards.

With some help from a few agents on Cybertron, Ratchet and Optimus worked their way through a starting number of encryptions and firewalls to find the children. To their relief the children were all still in the Americas. But they were all scattered, with Jack living in Texas, Rafael in Washington, and Miko all the way in Hawaii. It was suspicious as pit once the dots started to connect.

Agent Fowler had up and disappeared, the government had deemed them a shoot on sight type target, and the children had been thrown all across the continent. It was the type of suspicious set of coincidences that the old Council on Cybertron would have waved off or forcefully silenced any who spoke of it. That alone was enough for Optimus to make an executive decision and send out three of the team to retrieve the children and bring them to base unharmed for questioning. Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and Arcee were deployed and quickly made their way to their individual wards homes. It was not difficult to find their location with Ratchet supplying them data, but what startled them was the startling amount of security at each of the children's homes.

Armed soldiers patrolled the property of the children's homes and no amount of sneaking was going to get a bot into the residence and out with a child without causing a scene. It almost was enough to have Optimus call the team back... but it was all too suspicious. The humans were obviously keeping something important from them and they needed to know the truth. So giving a command he had never hoped to give, Optimus issued the order for the team to transform and collect the children even if it meant conflict. He was near certain the children would be safer with them than with the soldiers, if for no other reason than because the children knew them.

The order was followed, albeit with slight hesitation. Bumblebee transformed as he few over the walls surrounding Rafael's home, and then praying slightly for forgiveness, he scanned the buildings even as bullets flew at him. He then punched a hole through a wall and pulled his ward out as carefully as he could. He wasn't startled when Rafael screamed and flailed, after all a huge servo busting through the wall and grabbing you isn't exactly fun. As such he put Rafael into his passenger seat and flew down the road as more firearms were turned on him before going through the groundbridge Ratchet called for him.

Bulkhead didn't bother with any kind of subtly and brushed off bullets and even a small missile with no issues as he barreled onto Miko's property, busting a hole through her home as well to grab her. It was difficult since she screamed the whole time and tried to scurry away, but eventually he got her and did his best to calm her as he put her in his passenger seat and similarly drove through the groundbridge called for him. As for Arcee? She used her small size to drive through the door of Jack's home before anyone could stop her, and then she hurriedly transformed as well as she was able in the small space and grabbed the two humans inside. Jack and June also screamed in terror as she picked them up and made a dash for the groundbridge.

Once the team arrived at base with their charges, Optimus and Ratchet closed the groundbridges they had called and secured the area, ensuring no eyes could see them, human or otherwise. When this was done, the team placed their human charges down, causing June and the children to shy away in fear. Ultra Magnus watched on in concern as he saw their reaction and stepped aside with Ratchet and Optimus to discuss a possibility he was not fond of bringing up. As they did that, the team tried in vain to try and get the humans to recall them and calm.

Jack: What the hell are you!?

Smokescreen: Heyo little buddy! Don't you remember me? It's me, Smokescreen!

Jack: I don't know who you are or what you want, but leave me and my mom alone!

Arcee: Jack, what's going on? It's just us, the Autobots.

June: Stay away you things! Don't touch us!

Bulkhead: Miko, you remember me right? We're Wreckers! You, me, Jackie, and Magus are a team!

Miko: I don't know you... but you seem to know us.

Wheeljack: Of course we know you kiddo! We've fought together! We were a team for over a year!

Miko: I don't remember any of that.

Bumblebee: Rafael, please, tell me you remember me at least. Somewhere you must remember...

Rafael: I'm sorry, but I don't know who you are...

Bumblebee: That can't be! You don't just forget a whole year!

As the team tried in vain to make the humans remember, Optimus, Ratchet, and Ultra Magnus came to a dark conclusion. Ratchet took a few scans from a distance, but that alone was enough to pick out the primitive technology that had been used on the humans. The Council had done similar things to the minds of rebellious bots, and it was so common that the three knew exactly what to look for. When they found the signs of a memory wipe on the humans based on their brain activity and general scans, Ratchet nearly shattered his datapad and both Ultra Magnus and Optimus almost burst circuitry in rage.

Seeing this the team turned their attention to the trio in time for Ratchet to reveal what they had all been fearing.

Ratchet: They have been mind wiped, all the memories associated with us and our conflicts have been completely cleared.

June: What on earth are you talking about!?

Optimus: You do not remember, but nearly two and a half years ago we revealed ourselves to you by accident while fighting against our foes the Decepticons.

Ratchet: You worked alongside us for roughly a year and a half while we battled our foes to stop them from destroying your planet and dooming ours.

Optimus: However an earth year ago we completed our mission and defeated our foes. And so we returned to our homeworld to oversee its restoration.

Miko: You mean we fought with you!? Wow!

Bulkhead: Yeah... you did. And you fought well.

Optimus: We left with a promise to return in a year's time. That time has passed and so we returned to your world to check up on you.

Ultra Magnus: However it seems your government has used taboo alteration technology, primitive as it is, to remove any memories you had of us or your association with us.

Jack: You mean we forgot everything? A whole year?

Rafael: But how!? That shouldn't be possible!

Ratchet: We don't know how or why, we just know that it was done and now there is no changing it.

The humans were left in shock and the team in mourning for all that had been lost. Bulkhead and Wheeljack were physically pained by the loss of the Miko they knew. Bumblebee looked like he wanted to cry and he eventually moved to hug Optimus as a way to try and stave off some of the sorrow. Arcee appeared most distraught, her adopted son of sorts having forgotten all about her. Ultra Magnus was largely composed, but his fists clenched in anger as he watched the humans scramble for memories they no longer had and the team grieve. Smokescreen seemed lost more than anything else, not knowing who to comfort or what to do. Ratchet worked feverishly to see if there was a way to undo the work done on the humans. And Optimus... Optimus was wrathful and silently began tapping away at his console, searching for the only remaining human who might have answers.

They needed Agent Fowler.

It took weeks of effort on Optimus's part while the team cared for the humans, keeping them at base where it was safe while also simultaneously making trips back to Cybertron to continue reconstruction efforts during downtime. It was surprisingly hard for Optimus to dig around in the human datanet to try and find the missing agent. But eventually, just when the team were finally reconnecting with the humans by regaling them with tales and showing them videos of their time together, Optimus found Fowler.

The agent was being kept hidden away in some facility, one that Optimus, during the dead of night, had exactly zero issues busting into once he found out what was going on down there. The bodies of Cybertronian dead, abandoned weaponry, and even torn plating was being studied and taken apart for the human scientists. Optimus burned every such room he found in the facility to the ground, destroying or confiscating anything belonging to his kind. Then he found Fowler tied up in a dark room, seemingly having been interrogated for any and all information on Cybertronians he might have had. Optimus quickly gathered up the agent and decisively moved to leave, of course not without jacking up all the data the humans had collected.

When all was said and done, the team had four humans who remembered squat about their time together, an agent who was mentally unstable and stuck in a comatose state, and a government that was corrupt enough to be tearing their dead apart for science. The team were ready to raise hell for it.

[savagewildnerness]

Another week, another my-thoughts-on-the-next TVL bit...

Part VII - Ancient Magic, Ancient Mysteries.

(I'm worried I'm not generous enough to Marius in this. So to clarify, I actually really pity Marius in QOTD and I love how he can be humorous and despite my noting his feelings of superiority, when he loves someone he can also be accepting... That said.... on this read, here were my thoughts...)

Q - Lestat and Marius have physical similarities in the books & they even have attire-based similarities with their red velvet cloaks.  Will the TV show keep or amplify this and if so, how do you think it might impact the connections between Lestat, Marius, Armand and Louis?

Q - What does Lestat love about Marius?  He clearly sees him in some way as a Father figure.  He loves that Marius retains a humanness (Lestat calls Marius an immortal MAN - just as Lestat wishes to be), and Lestat’s greatest fear is that he is merely pure monster… although I wonder whether Marius truly is as human as Lestat perceives him?  Marius is undoubtedly clever and undoubtedly a chronicler… is some of his humanness artifice?  A disguise for the inhuman thing he actually is?  A disguise that beings such as Armand, Nicki and Claudia cannot or will not wear?  Is Marius actually a more human vampire?  He’s so very old and even as a mortal he seemed mainly to observe other humans at arm’s length.  I’m not sure.  I just wonder…. It feels to me Marius was always somewhat removed from others - observing humanity in an intellectual, distanced way…

Q - Why does Marius bring Lestat to his home?  Why does he so quickly (even before he has told anything of their tale at all to Lestat) take Lestat to see Those Who Must Be Kept?  It feels irresponsible that he gives Lestat no preparation.  Does he want Lestat to echo Marius’ own experience of first seeing them?  Does he want to shock Lestat?  He knows Lestat has been in The Earth - essentially a suicide following deep grief… and he takes him here?!  To see The Horror of these frozen, sentient beings?!  And THEN he forces Lestat to stay in the room and strongly encourages him to greet them… almost as if he *WANTS* Lestat to stir them?!  Does he want Lestat to rouse them?!  Marius didn’t so much as ever tell Armand a word about Those Who Must Be Kept and Lestat is still so young as a vampire….

Q - Nicolas’ perception of “the light” in Lestat was to do with his positivity and optimism and his failure to be cynical (p267).  He couldn’t bear that Lestat retained this optimism or innocence even in the face of the proven true and pure evil of becoming a monstrous vampire. Marius’ description of innocence is an absence of need for illusion.  I wonder about this, because to me this is an area where Marius considers himself above those who have faith.  There’s some skin-crawling irony in my mind about considering yourself superior to who you perceive as weaker-minded individuals, yet ALSO framing this as “innocence” as if you are somehow also more pure…?!  Where does Marius’ love for Armand lie in all this, too?  Armand, the most religious of them all… Nicki was indeed cynical in large part due to his religion - ingrained.  But also due to a nihilistic and importantly a REALISTIC worldview.  Lestat can be more positive as he can be more hopeful in his worldview.  But Lestat has literally just been dwelling relentlessly on fate.  Maybe that Lestat wasn’t indoctrinated into faith allows him a more openminded level of hope?  I don’t know… something about Marius’ argument unsettles me here.  Something about having make himSELF the best.  Children aren’t innocent.  Savages aren’t innocent.  Uneducated people aren’t innocent.  Animals aren’t innocent.  Marius and Lestat; the exalted ones are innocent…?  I also wonder how similar/different Marius and Lestat’s views of faith/religion are/aren’t?

Q - I discover over & over that “Lestattian” is a verb to me & I wonder if I am being ungenerous when I compare how Lestat describes Marius as kindness & benevolence; compassion & grace, patient… but when Marius tells his story he sometimes reveals a snobbish, superior side where he looks down at those he feels intellectually, spiritually or socially inferior… and it makes me wonder: when Marius describes himself in ways that could be Lestat self-describing - is it *always* exactly what Marius said & did, or does he see in Lestat’s mind what *he* would feel & how he’d respond? And I think to myself sometimes when Marius goes on the fiftieth tangent to explain JUST HOW MUCH BACKGROUND KNOWLEDGE ON WHATEVER TOPIC he has, is it ungenerous of me that sometimes I roll my eyes & think *Goodness, please stop SHOWING OFF, Marius!!! We get it! You have read ALL OF THE BOOKS!!*. I will say I do love Marius’ humour. I love how he can forgive & I love that he is learned.  But I worry that at times he says all Lestat wants to hear.

Q - Marius’ paintings I found interesting.  The way Lestat describes the grotesquerie of the worms in the soil and how the initial seeming perfection of Marius’ art is transformed or marred when Lestat notices its horrific aspects…. Is this a nod to vanitas art and to the corruption in Marius too?  Marius’ art is illusion and what else about Marius might be illusion?  The home Marius takes Lestat to reminds me very much of the unnatural Paradise Armand lived in with Marius…. Does Marius truly fit with current times?  Or is this a (metaphorical) cloak he wears?

Q - When Lestat talks of if only Nicolas had gone down into The Earth, could he have lived.. and Marius says all old vampires go into The Earth, it made me think - who besides Lestat has described going into The Earth for a prolonged time?

Q - p380 Lestat says he feels the possibility of an overpowering love… but is he just grieving and seeking Marius to fill him up?

Note: “A crack between faith and despair” could describe much of The Vampire Chronicles…

Note: “I could hear chants and ancient invocations” made me feel excited for Daniel Hart’s Those Who Must Be Kept music!

Note: p389 Lestat’s “Oh God” at the realisation of Those Who Must Be Kept being sentient but not moving reminds me of his “Oh! Oh! Oh!” Existential crisis with Nicolas.

Note: p395 When Lestat feels he is praying essentially to Akasha and is reminded how as a tiny child he used to pray to escape his Father’s house - Rolin could really take that comment and run with its implications… Also, the physical experience Lestat has in this moment with Akasha - she must create that in him, foreshadowing Queen of the Damned and the spellbinding power she has over whoever she wishes.

Note: When Marius really gets into his own story I often write/note when he sounds Lestattian.

Note: Marius, the illegitimate son, with complete freedom - the educated chronicler and scholar is in many ways the complete opposite of Lestat, the impoverished and imprisoned seventh legitimate son - the illiterate hunter with no freedom at all.  It’s interesting that Marius notes how free he was by 20 - Lestat’s age at turning.

Note: I find it annoying how Marius is so deeply at pains to show Lestat/us how CLEVER he is at times.  I also find him sometimes rude and patronising (p400/401)

Note: p403 - Marius enjoys collecting interesting people as a human… Is he kind of collecting Lestat now?

Note: There are lots of parallels to The Witches’ Place in The Druid’s religion, Gods and the turning of Marius. Over & over & over again; The Witches’ Place. Even here, in Marius’ story, it resounds - echoing into the past, into the future, over All Humanity’s Existence… From Maharet & Mekare, through Marius, to Nicolas & Lestat & on & on to now…

Note: The Great Mother talk p407 reminds me of Akasha becoming a God in the future… is she listening to Marius right now?

Note: Marius being chosen as Perfect to be a God seems to really match with the superiority/slight arrogance in Marius…?

Note: I wonder what Lestat thinks about the vampire Keltoi Gods?

Note: The wicker figures are so Wicker Man and I cannot wait for Rolin to go full horror and to pay homage to Wicker Man - surely this part of Marius’ story will be shown.

Note: p413 - the way Marius says he will (implied) free the innocent and denounce the religion is SO Lestattian.  Marius doesn’t do this.  Would Lestat have done?

Note: Marius too calls the God “it” just as Lestat did Magnus.

Note: Sometimes Marius says beautiful things, such as “The great spiritual depth of each man buried deep within a crucible of heated flesh and blood.”

Note: Rapture and ecstasy as part of their festival - allusion to both vampiric turning and The Witches’ Place.  Even a literal cauldron.

Note: Even Marius’ final paragraph p426 is very Lestattian.

[cabinofimagines]

Le-Ghoul-ash —(Platonic!Everyone xGN!Reader

A/N: As usual we are the funniest people on earth -Danny Words: 1,637 Warnings: None

The party was starting. Leo had whisked you away to show you the now empty room which once held the animatronics. The worrying part is that Leo showed you this, only to tell you that he did not know where they were. It did not help that the sounds of the party were echoing in the halls and that you could not differentiate between the clanging of Lityerses weapon against the floor and the clanging of possible animatronics in the walls. The positive, according to Jason, was that at least there were enough people here now to safely dispose of the animatronics if they were to attack. Probably. 

Either way- the three of you agreed to try to keep it on the down low. If anything, when you informed Leo and Jason that Nico and Hazel sensed the undead on their way they seemed relieved. 

“You see,” Leo had said, “If the undead attack then we can’t possibly be to blame for setting the animatronics loose! Besides, it is time to get into costume and enjoy the party.” 

Hearthstone entered the large venue with Klaus gesturing excitedly about wanting to introduce him to some friends. This being a costume party, he demanded Hearth to be slightly more creative in his appearance, so he was now wearing a Christmas hat, which was all he’d found at home on such short notice.

Percy had just stumbled out of the bathroom cursing under his breath about some malfunctioning waiters when he found himself standing face to face with none other than Klaus and some other guy that kind of looked like Klaus only skinnier and taller.

Klaus smiled from ear to ear and signed giddily. “Watch this guy.”

“Klaus,” Percy greeted him reluctantly. “You’re here… why?”

Klaus kept a straight face. “You see, Percy, global warming is taking a tool on the northpole, and since I know you all gather for this night too, I thought I’d come with our head of human resources and raise some awareness, also get a few donations. You got any money on you?”

Percy looked at the taller elf with wide eyes and gaped. “So he is Santa?”

“Whoops! Sorry, he can’t talk to you, company policy,” Klaus steps in, stretching out his hand. “We accept Venmo.”

Percy looked mortified. “I don’t have any money on me dude, gods, this is awful— wait I just saw Alex Fierro around here, maybe she has some, she’s rich— wait here!”

Once gone, Hearth turned to Klaus and signed. “Percy?”

“In the flesh.”

“Magnus said he was kind of silly. I see he was being kind.” He paused, then frowned. “Wait, did he say Alex Fierro?”

It had been a while since you had seen Leo and Jason, and as everyone was in costume you weren’t sure what they would look like. Luckily, one of the pair was only too excited to show off their costumes, as Leo rapidly approached you after waving you down. He was wearing a big fake beard, some clearly foam armor (didn’t they have the real deal here?) and had an even bigger ax on his back. Jason on the other hand was dressed in more fanciful garbs- a cape, and a more basic ren faire outfit.

The most notable part of his costume - outside from a big pot he was holding filled with something- was his blonde, long wig. You looked them over, and before you could ask Leo sprung forward and started talking. 

“I’m Gimli, you know, from Lord of the Rings!” Leo spread his arms to show off his costume. Besides him, Jason looked pained. His long, silky wig truly brought out the elf in him, especially as it slightly dipped into the pot he was holding. You looked at him expectantly and he sighed. 

“Can’t you connect the dots? He’s Gimli, so I am…” his eyes begged you to get it right, but Leo started smiling widely next to him.

“They won’t get it that way!” Leo bounced on his feet from excitement, “Specifically because of the accessories that I made for you!”

Jason looked at his best friend. “You cooked this? It might even be edible.” He shook his head, “So you really won’t guess?” he tried one last time, hopeful. You shook your head, finding Leo’s excitement adorable. “I’m-” 

“LE-GOULASH.” Leo yelled before bursting out in laughter. You snorted, trying to hold in your laughter, but the deadpan face of Jason was really bringing it home, specifically as he felt the need to explain the joke.

“You see, it’s Legolas and Gimli, but I am currently holding Leo’s leftovers.” 

“They’re not leftovers!” 

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

Alex had decided to have some fun tonight. She knew that Halloween was all about scares and appreciated an invite to a party but that’s not how you properly celebrate. Instead, she was dressed up as La Llorona and going around scaring the people around. She just had two good scares- a teenager who already looked like he was worried for his life and called her Hecate in return, and Percy screams like a girl. 

Her next target was this burly Chinese guy. He was talking with Magnus and another kid with a big sword tied to his side. With no hesitation she hovered by the big guy, and whispered Spanish in his ear. 

And with not hesitation the big guy turned into a small dog, which hid behind sword guys legs. Alex met sword guys face as he sighed. 

“Happens to you too huh? I’m Lityerses, nice to meet you.” 

“I’m Alex,” she introduced herself. As the dog guy turned back and coughed awkwardly she looked him over. 

“Wait, he’s a sibling of yours?” Magnus asked Alex, and she shook her head. She sniffed the air for show.

“Nah, he smells too much like fish, maybe he’s from Poseidon like Percy.”

“Actually I’m a son of Mars, name’s Frank.”

“Ah, fish, war, it’s all the same.” Alex shrugged.

“Do I smell like fish?” Magnus piped up and Alex laughed.

“You’re like literally the anti-fish, Magnus.” 

“Oof! Sorry, man, didn’t see you—” Leo stopped and smiled wide. “Wow, is that a literal suit of armour?”

“Did you call me ‘man’?”  Blitzen scowled. “I’m a dwarf!”

“What? No, you’re not?” Leo eyed him. “I’m a dwarf. You look like a man in black. Man, I love those movies, but this suit is something else, where did you get it?”

He reached and grazed the fabric with his fingers, his eyes brightening as his demigod nature picked up on its magical traits. Before Blitzen could go off about the inaccuracies in Leo’s clothes, the young man spoke again.

“No way! It can change shape? What on earth is this thing made of? Dude, I need you to teach me how to make one of these, it’d make life so much more bearable and I’m not even joking right now,” he leaned closer, “there might be some automatons on the loose trying to murder me and my friends, so I could really use something like that for the future.”

Blitzen stared at him torn between walking away from the clearly crazy guy or sharing his wisdom. In the end, his resolve weakened, seduced by Leo’s enthusiastic reaction towards his suit.

“Well, it’s quite easy when you’ve got the right tools, really. The key is to know your fabrics— I actually have a clothing line, and a shop in Boston, you’re welcome to visit it anytime.”

“You’ve got some casual wear?” Leo said, walking side by side with the dwarf and guiding him to the refreshments table. “I’ve been thinking about getting my mom a real nice present and I bet she’d love some indestructible overalls.”

Blitzen laughed amicably and patted Leo’s back. “That can be arranged, boy. I can sense a real talent in you, you have the hands of a crafter, I actually teach kids, if you’re interested?”

Leo whistled excitedly, his crooked grin widening. “You’ve got yourself an apprentice, Mr… er…”

“Blitzen,” he shook the young man’s hand. “You?”

“Leo,” he grinned. “Let’s talk suits of armor.”

“Has anyone seen a dwarf, this height, uh, probably dressed like all our best friends?” Jason asked the two look alikes. He thanked the gods he wasn’t the only one dressed up as Legolas, although he was clearly the only one with goulash added to the mix. He recognized one of the two as Will but the other one was new, so he introduced himself. “I’m Jason.”

“I’m Magnus, uh, I lost my dwarven friend too. He’s helping my cousin I think.”

“Who’s your cousin?” Will asked as he readjusted the bow on his back.

“Annabeth.” Magnus answered.

“Annabeth has family?” Jason asked, eyeing Magnus. Both other blondes eyed him. 

“Why wouldn’t she?” Will turned to Magnus, “I’m Will by the way. Nice costume, I loved the movies.” 

“I liked the books more.” Magnus shrugged, before looking the other two over. “Look, I am slightly uncomfortable with the both of you being dressed like this. No offense."

“Why?”  Jason eyed Magnus suspiciously.

“Well it’s slight appropriation, if not misinformed racism to be honest. I mean not for me, I asked my elf friend and he gave me permission. Thought it would be funny. But you two are kind of racist towards elfs here.”

“I can’t be racist! I have goulash! I am clearly a minority here.” Jason exclaimed.

“I’m bi.” Will added to the conversation.

“Biracial? I didn’t know half-elves existed, seems unlikely since I have been in Alfheim.”

“No? I’m bisexual.”

“Wow, you can write with both left and right? I didn’t know, does Nico know?” 

Magnus looked between his lookalikes, and if he wasn’t such a pacifist, would probably have hit them both. 

[t00nyah]

i hope ur ready

A WHOLE POST OF LYRICS FROM (MOSTLY BLACK DRESSES) SONGS THAT I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT 24/7

part 1 (out of ???)

BLACK DRESSES section (LAUGHINGFISH-PEACEFUL AS HELL)

LAUGHINGFISH

She started to feel ok But coming from a place as bad as that was Things can tend to find a way to tag along She didn't leave a mess with her luggage She made sure to stay on top of chores But her new chosen family was just as complicated as the old one was //FEEL SOMETHING

When everything is quiet It's louder than a scream //BAD VEGGIES

And the years behind all look the same Wounded animal freaking out on stage Get so depressed when people say "The more things change More they stay the same" //WOUNDED ANIMAL

Maybe the true self is only true when It could never survive in its true form Maybe the me inside only stays alive Because it's kept safe from the world //GOOD THINGS HAPPEN

FUCK the real ones Fuck true love Fuck being powerful, I don't care What could I dream of that is not made up Fuck this stupid world I am scared enough that I'm not afraid at all //DON'T FORGIVE THE WORLD

I won't sing my song If you find me gone tomorrow I won't feel a thing Doctors tearing up my body God could not forgive As we blink out of existence I don't mind at all Pretty sure we're ending up together

You say you wanna be saved God wanted you to live We're setting the tone Forever going out sad And no one needs songs where we're going I'm not hoping for a fight but I know I see one coming //IF YOU FIND ME GONE TOMORROW

Rook: I feel like a weapon out of control every day Fight the conditioning, blank stare, nothing to say Try my best but it all gets mangled On the way to my brain It's taking over again Devi: I don't pity the body For what? It destroys Rook: The memory of us against the world Nobody else could touch us back then //LAST LOVE SONG ON THIS LITTLE PLANET

The truth only matters if you're honest. Are you? - Man you're so fucking corny it makes me look straight //NO DAYS OFF (those are literally just two separate lines but PLEASE they are gold)

And the stereo connects right back to the mic I think I liked you better still alive I didn't expect in my dreams we'd still fight But I shoulda known and And the highway connects to the road Like the car was a part of your soul That I'm sure by now your mom sold //CAN'T KEEP THE KNOTS OUT

Earth is love But this crazy little thing called love can be a little bit intense //IT'S PROBABLY FINE

Forget Your Own Face

People say nothing is impossible but I do nothing every day - If you got- if you got what you wanted If you got what you wanted the most If you got- if you got what you wanted Would you still be fucking depressed? Would you still be fucked up by the past? Would you still regret everything? Yes. //u_u2

Give up on what you wanted Never give upuPUPUp on what you thought was true to you Unless you find some kind of other truth that means something to you Never give up on what you wanted Never give up on what you wanted Even if it's stupid God is stupid Let's be Stupid: God is here. //Let's Be

T-shirt slogan I'm a t-shirt slogan I'm a meme, I know it I got mean, I know it We learned a lot about Entertainment Tried a lot of shit, still not Entertained Yet. Isn't it crazy to be human? To bear witness to the illusion of patterns? To the illusion of order? To think that all this shit is normal? //NO NORMAL

Colorful and delicate like a paper star Shriveling in the heat of what we are At the end of time, did I do anything? Burning up like an insect in the sun I just wanna be useful to someone On the final day, did I make you smile? //doomspiral

Everything I want is fiction What I need does not exist Everything you want is right here waiting For you to take it What I need does not exist //GAY UGLY AND HARD TO UNDERSTAND

I used to want to mean Something to somebody But people never see The side of you you want to be And when the air is smoke And when the sky burns out I hope no one is looking at me When the sun explodes - I'm grateful for the time we had to do childish things Like making songs: Like this one. Stars shooting overhead as everything in the universe falls apart How romantic, like kissing under fireworks, but... As our bodies burn to light As our bodies turn to raw energy with no identity, uh... Let's meet back here again We can do a little show We can sing a couple songs We can fight over how the songs go I know it's not much For all the things in the world Not much, but let's just have- Let's just still try to have fun. //nightwish

Forever In Your Heart (oh this is about to explode)

The dead hope that you always clung to The dream that someday it would heal you Is there anywhere left to fall? I try so hard to recall hope Ancient hope Rotting hope Can we make something beautiful with no hope? //PEACESIGN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know it's not easy for anyone We're all on a clear light hell trip But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try Just don't come anywhere near me And we'll be ok I don't wanna see anyone's face I'm dealing with my own shit right now You can deal with your shit somewhere else - Stuck inside a concrete bubble Everyone is "doing their best" I think that it's kind of whatever. But dreams are not meant to be achieve

It's just not enough It's never been enough When the FUCK has it ever been enough Only to dream? //Concree Bubble

I'm just meat without a soul, Without a brain, Without anything, An animal. - The night explodes in the light From a shooting star IT'S EASY TO BECOME DISILLUSIONED WHEN YOU DON'T KNOW WHO YOU ARE And it can live forever in your heart It can live forever in your heart Forever in your heart It can live forever in your sick pathetic little heart //Heaven

I know it sounds stupid for a world like this, People do their best And still come off so twisted up and so heartless And I know I'm grateful if someone tries at all Still ends crumpled up, Scrunched up, like a tossed away love letter but

I think If there was ever a right way to do it I think That nobody's ever even done it //Tiny Ball

But on a clear and cloudless day It feels like the planets atmosphere Is stitched together by everyone's pain And we just breathe it in... //Silver Bells

I don't wanna do this anymore I don't wanna do this anymore I don't wanna prove I was wrong about you I don't wanna do this anymore I don't wanna do this anymore I don't wanna prove I was right about you //Ragequitted

A little dirt might cover up the wound (Rook) A little dirt might cover up the wound But a little dirt might infect it too (Rook) Infect it too There's no right choices to make in this life (Rook) This life

All you can do is what you can do //Waiting42moro(just saying i love this song the entirety of it but like THIS particular thing is so stuck in my head...)

I tried to offer up my pain to be understood But I don't think it's my pain that can be understood, Or needs understanding.

There's not a lot of pain in the world that makes any sense Maybe people need to be understood instead. //Understanding

What does it really take to want to hurt a child? It seems like it's not much for a lot of people. //Mistake

Peaceful as Hell

it's like a pearl formed from the pressure of all the blood in a world of nightmares it's feeding on love it's growing stronger and coming alive it's so scared and confused but it still wants to survive

it dreams of a future: impending doom it clings to the hope that it might pull through and everyone stares at it with disdain but it's trying so hard every single day //LEFT ARM OF LIFE

im so cute and well-adjusted i know exactly what to say i hope no one discovers i struggle with it every day how the FUCK does language work what do people like to hear?? i dont wanna be uncool but i need TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE - I wanna give people a chance but they keep letting me down I wanna be wrong again I wanna be wrong about being wrong this world shouldn't need to feel so lonely is it because I'm too angry to be around anyone again? //IM A FREAK CUZ IM ALWAYS FREAKED OUT

it's ok to keep your soul hidden keep a secret to yourself it's ok to be a bad singer you can sing a special song all by yourself //BLISS AND STUPIDITY

//MAYBE THIS WORLD IS ANOTHER PLANETS HELL? (yes im putting the entirety of it here bc im just so full of thought about this one)

bloody worm goddess you look so pretty when you're scared to death it'll never change burning bright with fear and hopelessness - trapped inside it again i don't sleep anymore i don't have any dreams i don't have a true form //SCARED 2 DEATH

is it ok for me to be happy? is it really ok for me to happy? is it ok for me to be happy? turn up the radio play us a happiness song - come on girl, haven't you learned how to express yourself? why is it so hard to get you out of your shell? is it ok for me to be messy? is it really ok for me to be messy? is it ok for me to be messy? i don't know how to let it go //EXPRESS YOURSELF

the impossible dream of having a skin everything crawls on, everything soaks in I'll be eaten by ants but I won't feel that bad I just wanna have my body to my Self while I still Am and I don't wanna be polluted by all the violence that already twisted me up //IMPOSSIBLE DREAM

you could say anything that you want I could say anything that I want to you could say anything that you want it's up to you to choose what's important to you

but don't be weird, don't be mean you're on my computer screen it's my world, it's my life i'm a person please be nice - you can say anything you want you can say anything you want to it doesn't mean you're bad but sometimes love is holding back //PLEASE BE NICE

//666 (another one that is just fully in my head, it's so sweet and comforting)

part 2(LOVE AND AFFECTION FOR STUPID LITTLE BITCHES-WASTEISOLATION)...coming someday. no date.