#its like a light switch went on in my brain and not i cannot stop support spindling

[saltpixiefibercraft]

Am I going to be so normal about FINALLY, finally getting the hang of support swindling?

ABSOLUTELY NOT! I'm so thrilled I finally figured out the technique!! It's been driving me NUTS.

Thankfully I have very pretty spindles to play on, I'll get a group shot of them all together when I'm back at my house in a few days.

[badolmen]

Turn Off the Light

Hallucinations aren’t unheard of for spelunkers, especially those on the verge of a panic attack. You were hoping they would hold off until your light went out, but the whisper returns.

“The light. If you turn it off, we can help you.”

The realization that it is not one voice, but many overlapping echoes makes you shiver. Although, it is rather cold so deep in the caves.

You look around the expanse of stone, slate gray and devoid of life. Not even bats are roosting here. There is no sound of running water that you could be mistaking for whispers. Silence save for your too-fast heartbeat pounding in your skull and the dull hum of dying electricity in your headlamp.

The light. They wanted the light off. Your fingers are too cold, and it takes a moment for you to fumble the switch off.

The darkness is immediate and thick, blind eyes searching for light that isn’t there. For a moment, you think you may drown in the inky black.

“Thank you.” The voices are louder now, and you can see their source.

You know you aren’t really seeing them - it’s impossible, your brain is putting something in the darkness to make sense of the presence that hovers feet from your face. But somehow, that doesn’t make the writhing mass of shadow any less real.

It wobbles between a fuzzy static silhouette and coiled tendrils like a nest of snakes but there is something in front of you that you cannot see but cannot not see. You don’t even realize you’re speaking until your own echo reverberates in the ocean of darkness.

“Who are you?” You should have asked what, but the way this creature makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up makes you unsure you want to know.

“We are a friend. Follow.” There’s amusement in the voices, and a soft, fond, sorrow. The presence begins to move away from you, the electric pinch of awareness that curled across the bridge of your nose fading as it left.

“Wait!” Your voice is shaking but soft, your first step unsure and unsteady. You feel like you’ve forgotten how to even walk. One misstep nearly sends you crashing to the hard, damp stone below your clumsy feet. You brace for an impact that never comes.

There’s a hand, soft and dry and warm, holding your own. It’s not human - or it was once but no longer is - it was more a mitten of tender flesh than a familiar five fingered grip. The hand relaxes, but you don’t let go. You aren’t sure why.

“Follow. We can help you.”

You still stumble in the dark, blind to every shift in elevation and stone, but the steady presence beside you forges onward. The question you should have asked earlier wells in your throat.

“What are you?”

The grip on your hand gives a gentle squeeze.

“We are a friend.” There’s a tension in the answer, as though the voices aren’t in complete agreement with each other. You swallow - or try to, your mouth dry and tongue leadened.

“My name is - ” You stop, acutely aware that the presence is bristling as it stopped suddenly.

“That’s dangerous.” The voices nearly growl, but it’s tone lightens as it starts walking again. “You are a friend. We are helping you.”

You aren’t sure how to respond so you don’t. You walk for what feels like hours, legs aching and feet sore. You’re cold and hungry and tired and can barely keep pace with your guide.

“I need a break.” The presence stops when you speak, and even you are hesitant to release its gentle hand. “I have a snack in my bag; can I turn on - ?”

“No.” There’s a wind in the whispers as though heard in the air just before a storm, something anxious and angry and ashamed. “I’ll get it for you.”

You don’t have time to protest that you can blindly grope through your supplies for a protein bar. The thing unzips your pack, and if you close your eyes - not that it matters in the darkness - you can almost pretend this is a damp, cold dream of a high school hallway, some friend retrieving a folder from your backpack for you.

There’s a protein bar in your empty hand (still half raised to turn on your headlamp) and the wrapper crinkles a little too loudly as you open it and break off a piece.

“Hungry?” You offer - the least you could do for this thing that has yet to kill you. It makes a strange noise somewhere between a whimper and a sigh.

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t eat your food.” The growl in its voices runs thick in its words. “That’s dangerous.”

“Okay.” You finish the protein bar yourself, not speaking again for fear of further agitating the presence. It takes your hand in its mittened grip and you walk.

“Almost there.” The whispers are softer now, no longer echoing against the stone. You can’t tell if the cavern is familiar, but you trust the gentle voices that have delivered you safely thus far.

The you hear them. Your team. Sharron is screaming your name. Isaac is sobbing. Chris curses into the darkness somewhere you cannot see them.

The presence beside you hears them too, it’s pace picking up to match your own. Then you see it. Light - not much, thin threads of photons in the damp air that barely delineate a distant cave wall. You call out, voice still hoarse from your earlier screams.

“Here! I’m here!” There are shrieks of joy and panic and relief in the distance. If they tell you to stay where you are, you ignore them to charge ahead. You pull your new friend along, it’s grip loosening.

It stops you just short of the corner. You stop and turn to it, confusion creasing your invisible features. The light from around the corner is so dilute you can still only make out your companion’s writhing, static obscured silhouette. The footsteps of your approaching team are getting louder.

You open your mouth to say thank you. To ask why it had helped you. To ask any number of questions. But you don’t get the chance. Sharron rounds the corner, her headlamp cutting through the darkness and illuminating the cave.

For a split second you can see it - a flash of adjusting irises and shadows chased back by the light. It’s something feathered and something skeletal. Ancient and inhuman and disintegrated in the harsh glow on an LED light.

“You’re alright!” Sharron didn’t see it - her face only shows relief, no horror or recognition of what just scattered into the shadows. “What happened? Did your headlamp run out of battery? How did you find your way back?”

Your mouth is dry and words are stuck in your throat. Your teammates all round the corner, glowing and alive and oddly chilly. The warmth of the presence is gone. There’s something damp and cold in the air.

Chris is smiling at you, a hand extending a protein bar. Isaac’s eyes are dry, no tears on his sallow cheeks.

“We were all so worried about you, here eat.” There’s something wrong with the way Chris’ lips move, out of sync with the sound of their words. There’s something wrong with the wrapper of the protein bar, faded and dull and water damaged.

You don’t take the protein bar. Sharron has her clipboard out, a guilty smile on her face. Her face is too pale and her skin like wax.

“Sorry, I’m terrible with names - you are..?” That’s a lie. You heard her calling your name mere moments ago. Your breath clouds white as you begin to breathe faster. No fog leaves their lips as they ask you what’s wrong.

You run. The lights follow, biting at your heels as you dash back towards the darkness.

--

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(This is being reposted from a prompt fill for @/writing-prompt-s. Please reblog this version, as I no longer want my writing associated with that blog.)

[badolmen]

Hallucinations aren’t unheard of for spelunkers, especially those on the verge of a panic attack. You were hoping they would hold off until your light went out, but the whisper returns.

“The light. If you turn it off, we can help you.”

The realization that it is not one voice, but many overlapping echoes makes you shiver. Although, it is rather cold so deep in the caves.

You look around the expanse of stone, slate gray and devoid of life. Not even bats are roosting here. There is no sound of running water that you could be mistaking for whispers. Silence save for your too-fast heartbeat pounding in your skull and the dull hum of dying electricity in your headlamp.

The light. They wanted the light off. Your fingers are too cold, and it takes a moment for you to fumble the switch off.

The darkness is immediate and thick, blind eyes searching for light that isn’t there. For a moment, you think you may drown in the inky black.

“Thank you.” The voices are louder now, and you can see their source.

You know you aren’t really seeing them - it’s impossible, your brain is putting something in the darkness to make sense of the presence that hovers feet from your face. But somehow, that doesn’t make the writhing mass of shadow any less real.

It wobbles between a fuzzy static silhouette and coiled tendrils like a nest of snakes but there is something in front of you that you cannot see but cannot not see. You don’t even realize you’re speaking until your own echo reverberates in the ocean of darkness.

“Who are you?” You should have asked what, but the way this creature makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up makes you unsure you want to know.

“We are a friend. Follow.” There’s amusement in the voices, and a soft, fond, sorrow. The presence begins to move away from you, the electric pinch of awareness that curled across the bridge of your nose fading as it left.

“Wait!” Your voice is shaking but soft, your first step unsure and unsteady. You feel like you’ve forgotten how to even walk. One misstep nearly sends you crashing to the hard, damp stone below your clumsy feet. You brace for an impact that never comes.

There’s a hand, soft and dry and warm, holding your own. It’s not human - or it was once but no longer is - it was more a mitten of tender flesh than a familiar five fingered grip. The hand relaxes, but you don’t let go. You aren’t sure why.

“Follow. We can help you.”

You still stumble in the dark, blind to every shift in elevation and stone, but the steady presence beside you forges onward. The question you should have asked earlier wells in your throat.

“What are you?”

The grip on your hand gives a gentle squeeze.

“We are a friend.” There’s a tension in the answer, as though the voices aren’t in complete agreement with each other. You swallow - or try to, your mouth dry and tongue leadened.

“My name is - ” You stop, acutely aware that the presence is bristling as it stopped suddenly.

“That’s dangerous.” The voices nearly growl, but it’s tone lightens as it starts walking again. “You are a friend. We are helping you.”

You aren’t sure how to respond so you don’t. You walk for what feels like hours, legs aching and feet sore. You’re cold and hungry and tired and can barely keep pace with your guide.

“I need a break.” The presence stops when you speak, and even you are hesitant to release its gentle hand. “I have a snack in my bag; can I turn on - ?”

“No.” There’s a wind in the whispers as though heard in the air just before a storm, something anxious and angry and ashamed. “I’ll get it for you.”

You don’t have time to protest that you can blindly grope through your supplies for a protein bar. The thing unzips your pack, and if you close your eyes - not that it matters in the darkness - you can almost pretend this is a damp, cold dream of a high school hallway, some friend retrieving a folder from your backpack for you.

There’s a protein bar in your empty hand (still half raised to turn on your headlamp) and the wrapper crinkles a little too loudly as you open it and break off a piece.

“Hungry?” You offer - the least you could do for this thing that has yet to kill you. It makes a strange noise somewhere between a whimper and a sigh.

“No.”

“Are you lying?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t eat your food.” The growl in its voices runs thick in its words. “That’s dangerous.”

“Okay.” You finish the protein bar yourself, not speaking again for fear of further agitating the presence. It takes your hand in its mittened grip and you walk.

“Almost there.” The whispers are softer now, no longer echoing against the stone. You can’t tell if the cavern is familiar, but you trust the gentle voices that have delivered you safely thus far.

The you hear them. Your team. Sharron is screaming your name. Isaac is sobbing. Chris curses into the darkness somewhere you cannot see them.

The presence beside you hears them too, it’s pace picking up to match your own. Then you see it. Light - not much, thin threads of photons in the damp air that barely delineate a distant cave wall. You call out, voice still hoarse from your earlier screams.

“Here! I’m here!” There are shrieks of joy and panic and relief in the distance. If they tell you to stay where you are, you ignore them to charge ahead. You pull your new friend along, it’s grip loosening.

It stops you just short of the corner. You stop and turn to it, confusion creasing your invisible features. The light from around the corner is so dilute you can still only make out your companion’s writhing, static obscured silhouette. The footsteps of your approaching team are getting louder.

You open your mouth to say thank you. To ask why it had helped you. To ask any number of questions. But you don’t get the chance. Sharron rounds the corner, her headlamp cutting through the darkness and illuminating the cave.

For a split second you can see it - a flash of adjusting irises and shadows chased back by the light. It’s something feathered and something skeletal. Ancient and inhuman and disintegrated in the harsh glow on an LED light.

“You’re alright!” Sharron didn’t see it - her face only shows relief, no horror or recognition of what just scattered into the shadows. “What happened? Did your headlamp run out of battery? How did you find your way back?”

Your mouth is dry and words are stuck in your throat. Your teammates all round the corner, glowing and alive and oddly chilly. The warmth of the presence is gone. There’s something damp and cold in the air.

Chris is smiling at you, a hand extending a protein bar. Isaac’s eyes are dry, no tears on his sallow cheeks.

“We were all so worried about you, here eat.” There’s something wrong with the way Chris’ lips move, out of sync with the sound of their words. There’s something wrong with the wrapper of the protein bar, faded and dull and water damaged.

You don’t take the protein bar. Sharron has her clipboard out, a guilty smile on her face. Her face is too pale and her skin like wax.

“Sorry, I’m terrible with names - you are..?” That’s a lie. You heard her calling your name mere moments ago. Your breath clouds white as you begin to breathe faster. No fog leaves their lips as they ask you what’s wrong.

You run. The lights follow, biting at your heels as you dash back towards the darkness.

Edit: Donate to Palestinians in Gaza

You are a spelunker who has gone too far into an unexplored cave system. You have lost your team and are starting to lose hope. As your light begins to fade you hear a whisper, “We can help you if you turn off the lights.”

[barbarianprncess]

did you mean it?

read on ao3.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

It’s a total of 3 significant events that led to this, her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts bleeding.

The first event isn’t really an event at all. It’s a prologue, necessary context to truly understand the monumentalism of this moment. It’s the memory of her eyes, piercing and reproachful, being the first thing that he saw after losing his mother. It’s shared trauma and oreos while they’re young and naive. It’s truces and training and growing up too soon together. It’s stargazing and stupid jokes saving eachother in every possible way. It's the culmination of the years Percy spent growing, learning, and being with Annabeth, and the unknown and therefore repressed feelings that came with it. Feelings are like the sea in that way, they don’t take well to being restrained. Percy has found that you cannot box in oceans or sentiments, they always find a way to spill over and out, with no regard for the destruction left in its wake.

The second event is Dionysus deciding on a whim that the inhabitants of his camp are ‘uncultured pests’ and taking it upon himself to set up a field trip for campers to the Ancient Greek Cultural Center in New York. (Percy thinks it’s really just to distract kids that were still shaken up about the battle at camp and the losses it caused. But, Dionysus would never say so. He’s far too proud to admit to caring for the children he’s been assigned to look after.) Argus loaded all the kids he could fit into the strawberry vans, as Chiron listed all the reasons this was a terrible idea. As it turns out, his worries were in vain as miraculously, no monsters attacked, and no mortal asked too many questions. No, instead, the only hitch in his plan was the glaring inaccuracies of the Center sending Dionysus into a fit of rage. He ranted for so long, their 2 hour long field trip ended up lasting until the place closed.

Event the third is the ridiculously long line leading to the mens room at the rundown gas station they’ve stopped at, causing Percy to traipse into the woods, deep enough to know that no one other than the squirrels were watching, and pee there. Unbeknownst to him, Annabeth had decided to take a quick walk in the forest as well, (in the opposite direction of his peeing endeavor) with the purpose of clearing her head. Both returned to the parking lot after 10 minutes, with no truck in sight. The gas station lights are turned off on the inside and the door sign has switched decidedly to closed. They look at each other in disbelief.

“Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“Uh...did they…”    

“They didn’t. They wouldn’t.”

“I think they would.”

“They would never-”

“I have pretty solid evidence to the contrary.” Annabeth deadpans, casually letting her hair loose and hopping on top of the miniature gas machine for motorcycles.

“But, how did-”

“No Argus.” Which means, no all-seeing eyes to double check the headcount. Percy begins to pace.

“Okay, but-”

“Two trucks.” Both of which are probably assuming Percy and Annabeth are on the other.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, gods.”

“Leave them out of this.”

“Those fuckers.”

“Which ones?” She asks. He looks up and she’s fighting a smile. He pointedly doesn’t notice the way her mouth curls up, or the way her hair falls around her shoulders and down her back, or how pretty she looks lit up by the neon red lights of the gas stations prices, which apparently doesn’t turn off when they close.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“I know lots of things you don’t.”

“Ha-ha. I mean about how to get out of here.”

“Ohhhhh, let me think.” She wrinkles her nose in faux concentration, tilting her chin up towards  the sky. Percy is too annoyed to think it’s adorable. “Nope, not a clue.”

“Your phone?”

“Left it on the truck.”

“Iris message?”

“Percy, it’s dark as shit.” The laughter she’s been holding in comes pouring out. Nevermind that he feels his chest sigh in relief at hearing it for the first time since their quest, this is serious.

“You’re laughing.”

“Just a little.”

“You’re telling me, you don’t have a brilliant plan to get us on a truck.”

“Yes.”

“So, we’re stuck here.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re laughing?”

“You’re just really funny when you’re stressed.” She giggles. He can’t remember the last time she giggled. He missed it. He hates her.

“Oh my gods.”

“Okay, okay, look, I’m sorry. We’re halfway to camp right?” He nods. “I’m sure they’ll figure out we’re missing before they get all the way back to camp, but let's say, worst case scenario, they don’t-”

“Not helping-”

“And they make it the rest of the way back to camp. It took us four hours to get to the center, which means camp is two hours away, so if they make it the two hours back to camp before they realize we’re missing, and they drive back up-”

“C’mon ‘Beth, you know I suck at math.”

“We’re stuck here for five hours at most.”

“Five hours?”

“And that's if no passing cars let us use their phones to hurry the process up.”

“Five hours.”

She’s laughing again. “Seriously, what is so funny?”

“It’s just-” Her cheeks are red and she’s very poorly attempting to suppress her smile. “You’ve been calm in so many life or death situations, and being stuck at a gas station is what finally breaks through.”

“It’s nighttime.” She stares at him for a moment and then she’s laughing again, full bodied real laughter, and he's laughing too.

And it’s as if this gas station became their own personal Ogygia, an oasis, a resting place for them to be stupid kids again. And they don’t talk about the battle, or Rachel, or the volcano, or any of the million things set on tearing them apart. They talked about his mom getting serious about his new boyfriend, about Tyson’s underwater adventures and Grover’s searching shenanigans.

They smack talk with no real heat about who the better fighter is (Oh please, Seaweed Brain, I've been training since before you could tie your own shoes.), and argue about which ancient hero had the greatest journey (Hercules, are you kidding? Did you even read the myth?). They break into the gas station for snacks (What the fuck, Annabeth, where’d you learn to pick a lock? No, I wouldn’t prefer you break the glass, you psycho. Oh my gods, can you really break the glass?), and dissolve into giggles as they try to fit five drachma into the cash register.

They end up back outside sitting on the gas machines facing one another from three feet away.

“Your mom called me the other day.”

Percy, who’d been lazily squinting up at the murky sky, searching for any sign of stars, whipped his head to look at her. “What?”

“She called me on the phone. We talked for a bit. She said she wanted to make sure I was alright.”

“That sounds like something she would do.” He sighs and hops down from the machine, turning away from her, hoping to hide his blush from the dim light. “She cornered me on one of my off weekends, asked what was going on with us.”

“Oh.” He hears the shifting of fabric and assumes she followed him in sliding off the gas machine.

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a long time before she responds.

“What did you say?” She asks, her voice smaller than it was moments ago. He hears her scratching at the flat metal top of the machine. “When she asked, what did you say?”

He runs his finger through his hair, and one gets caught in a particularly large snarl. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.” She whispers and gods he’s terrified but he really doesn’t have a choice when her voice wavers like that. Her words shake and every ounce of his being tells him to do whatever it takes to soothe it.

“I said we were fighting. That there wasn’t one sole reason for it, just a bunch of little reasons. I told her that I scared you when I….went away for two weeks last summer. And that you didn’t like bringing Rachel on your quest. I told her that we….. disagree about how to best handle Luke. That I probably wanted to protect you more than I wanted to listen to you.” She laughs softly and he blames what he says next on her laugh. It is the catalyst for everything that follows.

“I told her that we’d be okay. Because no matter what happens I’m always gonna love you.”

He hears her breath catch. He doesn’t have to look back to know she’s turned to face him fully. “Did you mean it?” She calls. He doesn’t answer. The words haven’t caught in his throat, they’ve spontaneously combusted in his vocal chords and he doesn’t think he’ll ever speak again.

The sound of gravel crunching gets closer until suddenly she's beside him, and he didn’t tell his torso to twist toward her, he thinks she might just be his center of gravity.

“Did you mean it?”

She’s looking up at him, and her hair smells like lemons, and her cheeks are pink, and her eyelashes go on for miles, and her sunspots are better than stars. And it’s as if she pulls the words right out of him, he’s hypnotized by everything about her.

“Of course I meant it.”

She exhales and closes her eyes and while he mourns the loss of the sight, his body moves on it’s own accord again and he’s edging closer and closer and she opens her eyes and here they are.

Their noses brush, and this time he closes his eyes, and their noses brush just so, and…

Whoa.

He was wrong, it wasn't just those three significant events that to her forehead knocked against his, breaths heavy and mingled, eyes wide and hearts positively bleeding. It’s clear he’s been waiting his entire life for this moment at this shitty gas station.

Waiting for this. Waiting for her.  

They kiss for a moment or an eternity, and they fit. His hands are on her hips and hers clutch at his shirt before sliding up to his throat, and it’s like his soul is whispering, oh there you are.

And then she’s pulling back, so she has just enough space to shake her head without disconnecting from his forehead.

She's breathless when she whispers, “This is a bad idea.”

His hands trail up and down her forearm of their own accord, and when he whispers back he’s breathless too. “Yeah, really bad idea.”

Her hands slide up from his chest to his shoulders, and then she’s kissing him again, with purpose, and he’s kissing back like his life depends on it because he thinks it might, thinks if he lets go of her he’d die on the spot.

It seems his theory might get tested when she pulls back again just far enough to whisper against his lips, “Is it always like that?”

He kisses her again, once, twice, because he can’t help it and whispers back, “I don’t know, you were my first kiss.”

He’d released any serious hold he had on her the moment she hesitated, but then she’s rocking back up to meet him halfway and his entire body thinks thank the gods. He actually sighs his relief into her mouth, as his hands desperately reach for her face, some fingers tangling in her hair, and their lips are magnets, opposites that don’t have a choice but to pull together. Despite how much he wants to keep doing this forever, he has to tell her.

“I don’t wanna lose you, again.” He means not ever, but he figures she understands the severity in his voice. She’s running her hand through his hair, and his slide up and down her back, and she knocks her nose against his as she answers, “I know, me either. I’m confused, this is confusing me.” And she tilts her chin just so, like she did a million years ago, and this time he kisses her.

They kiss for an infinity, he gets to taste her laughter when she giggles at the absurdness of it all, and it’s better than ambrosia. He kisses her until he doesn’t know anything else, until his entire universe is Annabeth Chase, with her cheeks and her curls and her lips. She is everything.

And then headlights penetrate their universe, voices bring an end to their infinity, and Chiron is speaking but it’s nothing, it’s all white noise because she’s no longer in his arms, and his center of gravity is being ripped away and he hears someone ask, “What’d you guys do?”

He’s still looking at her face when she answers, “You know, tried not to strangle each other mostly.”

But, she looks back before she turns all the way around and her gaze is charged and her lips quirk with the secret they share.

He is so screwed.

[kissme-hs]

Rules ♡ h.s.

Hey my loves! How’re you all? Here’s a little something based off the following request I’ve had for too long. Would you like a part 2? Let me know what you think! Please re-blog and like if you enjoyed <3 {photo and gif not mine}

Anonymous asked: could u do a Dom!harry smut where he’s really rough and strict in bed? Plzz I love ur writing ❤️

Pairing: Harry Styles x Fem! Reader

Word count: 3.2K

Warning: 18+ Smut, Degradation, Unprotected sex, slight mention of BDSM, oral sex fem recieves and gives, use of filthy language etc. {PLEASE DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH DOM-SUB fics}

                ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Softy, a complete whole soft person Harry was viewed as by the entire world. A guy who loves wearing nail polish and dresses and is nothing but a complete sweetheart. A man, in fact, a man child. In the eyes of million he was a sweet, laid back English lad who wouldn’t dare to hurt a fly.

However, some knew he owned a pair of Gucci handcuffs, the shiny metal made thousands of girls and guys wonder if he actually uses them and the answer is they don’t know. He has never been a man to speak openly about his personal life and just like the rest he let the audience to allow their minds to wander in the oblivion of their thoughts of what he prefers in bed. Or how he is in bed.

All they could do is assume. They assumed he’s rough, maybe soft, or maybe enjoys role play?

No one knows really. Except you.

The only person who has seen his deepest and darkest fantasies. The only person who has ever signed the paper of agreement between you two, you agreeing on being his sub­­, i.e. submissive. Giving him the permission to have his way with you, be it rough, soft or a role play. Whatever it may be, you said yes. The terms and conditions did scare you. The words printed on the piece of paper came off too strong that lied on your lap the night you’re eyes were scanning it, mind finally synching with your wants, deciding it was time you sign the agreement.

*This is a confidential agreement. Submissive is not allow to talk about it to anyone else but the Dom.*

Submissive agrees to obey whatever Dom orders them to do, sexually.

Safe word to be used by submissive is “peach”, if the boundaries are being pushed, the word to be used is “red”.

Honestly, it would scare anybody who reads the further details listed in the contract and what activities Dom would like themselves and the sub to immerge into such as extreme sex toys, being tied up by ropes, fisting and other terms that you didn’t even know the meaning of. But Harry wasn’t doing it just for himself, but for you.

When the day your ex left without a note you found yourself crying in his arms, sobbing and clutching his t-shirt like a broken kid and it hurt him. So he suggested, he was well aware how you wouldn’t be able to go out with anyone after what has happened so why not help you take your mind off him? Nodding to his words, not knowing what was coming you went home and the next morning you saw an envelope on your porch.

And there lied the papers. Submissive-Dom agreement.

“What is this Harry?” You breathed out in fear as your eyes scanned the words and brain figured out what it meant.

“You know it’s not a bad thing, it’ll help you clear your mind”

“Bu-“

“Trust me, plus we don’t have to do what you don’t want to.”

“I don’t know Harry”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do”

“good”

“Do you trust me?” You said biting your lip as you scrunched the bottom of the paper.

“I do”

“Why the agreement then?”

“Its for your own good” and with that the line went dead leaving you in complete confusion. Even though your mind had untangled thoughts and questions clashing together, not thinking twice your fingers grabbed the pen and in a messy rush glided over the rough paper sealing the secret.

And so it began. He invited you over to his place in LA. The house where you’ve been many times but that was when you were friends, you still are but things changed. Quite a lot. His hand held yours as he guided you to the hallway where you never went or even were aware that existed.

Walking a couple more steps you both were standing in front of the huge door. Comparatively bigger than the other he had in his house.

“Stay here” he said as he lets go of your hand and takes a step forward to unlock the door for which he had the key in his necklace. Yes his necklace, a master of disguise.

The second you heard the twisting of the key opening the big door he stepped aside for you to enter the room. Your heart racing with anticipation as you waited for the lights to reveal what he’s had hidden in this room, away from the eyes of the world, away from you.

His fingers flicked the switch and the you saw it. The big red room with a huge bed in the middle, it was surrounded by leashes, leather whips, ropes and the ceiling was nothing but a huge mirror that reflected every move of yours.

Walking down the shiny black floor your hand brushed again the walls that seems so cushiony as you turned your head to look at harry who was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed with a smirk adorning his face.

“Sound proof.” He said as you nodded and continued looking around. Your fingers touched the cold leather whips and slides across the teak wooden drawer. Turning your head one more time to get his approval which he gladly gave, your hand held the handle to pull out the drawer.

There lied several silk blind folds. So rich and expensive. Moving to the next drawer, lied about 50 hand ties, and hand cuffs. Metal, clothed, you name it he has it. And then the last drawer hitched your breath, vibrators, butt plugs, dildos and every other toy you saw in porn.

“I-I never knew you were into this” you whispered as you let your fingers ghost over the silk ties that lied in a perfect fold in the drawer.

“Now you do” you heard his message getting closer to you until his front was pressed against your back. You feel his crotch right up against your ass as he gently, yet with a slight force pushed your front againt the drawer so that you were slightly bent. His hand making it’s from your stomach dragging up all the way up until it found the base of your neck.

The cold metal of his rings felt hot against your skin as he pushed your head back and leaned in closer to your ear. His breath fanning over the love making you shiver.

“Now what’re the rules?”

“I-I call you sir” you breathed out the words as his Kept his hand on your neck giving it a light squeeze telling you to go on, go on with the rules listed in the contract.

“I cannot touch you or myself. I-I respond with words. I-“

“You what?”

“I address myself as your whore”

“That’s correct. You are my filthy little whore. Aren’t you?” He said. His voice deeper than you’ve ever before. And his hand that once held your neck now moved to your side turning you around in a one swift motion. His lips wasting no time to latch onto yours, kissing hungrily as if he’s been dying to kiss you.

And god he has been. Ever since he held your hand walking down the corridor he’s been thinking about having you his way, just like he wants. Kiss those lips and have a taste of thag body is all that has been on his mind since you signed those papers he sent.

Lost in the kiss, deep in your thoughts you were enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours and the rules fading away from your mind. It’s hard to control and stay in the boundaries he’s created when his tongue is inside your mouth dancing along yours, so you let your fingers get lost in those curls as your bite his lower lip.

But to your surprise his reflexes were quick enough to have your hand removed from his hair and twist it and hold it behind your back in a one swift motion.

“One kiss and you’re already breaking the rules. You’re lucky I’m not going to punish you, this is your first and last time.” He groaned before he grabbed you and threw over his shoulder. His hand hving your ass a tight slap before he throws you over the big bed that was situated in the middle on the big room.

Your eyes flickering open to see your own reflection in the mirror that was on the ceiling. Your lips swollen, shirt collected right below your breat revealing your bare skin of the stomach and chest rising with every deep breath you took.

“Now listen to me, you’re gonna look at yourself in the mirror and tell me every single rule listed in the contract. One wrong rule and you lose the chance to cum. Understood?” Harry said as he unbuttoned your jeans pulling it down your legs and stopping right before taking them out when he didn’t hear you reply.

“I asked you something” he raised his eyebrow as one of he held your ankles towards behind your knees over so he could see the cheeks of your ass before giving you another spank.

“Y-yes sir,”

“Yes sir what?”

“Yes sir, understood”

Mumbling a low ‘good girl’ he took off your pants and then sat on you with legs either side your waist to take your top off, his mouth watered when he saw your nipple coming out of your back bra which probably happened when he threw you on the bed.

“Jesus. So full” he muttered before holding your hand over your head and lower his mouth on your nipple, his other hand pushing the cups down so that he could take the whole bud in his mouth and suckle on it making your arch your back. His mouth felt so warm on your cold bud as his tongue flicked the pebble hard nipple around and his bite it slightly before letting it go with a slight pop.

Grabbing a silk tie from the side drawer he tied it around your wrist that he had held in his hand and unhooked the bra—rolling it along the lilc tee that you wore until it reached your eyes and acted as a blindfold.

“Start the rules. Remember, one wrong rule and you lose the chance to cum”

“Yes sir”

“Start” he ordered. And you opened your mouth to let the words out but your breath sucked in when you felt him throwing your legs on his shoulder and his lips coming in contact with your inner thigh.

“I-I don’t sleep with someone else.”

“Cannot”

“Sorry sir, I cannot sleep with someone else”

His lips licked over your drenched knickers that covered your throbbing clit waiting for be touched his tongue. You clenched your thighs together only to be pushed apart by his hands as his nose rubbed over your clothed centre, sniffing, taking the smell of your aroma.

“I cum only when you say” you bite your lip feeling the cotton materiel of your underwear being pushed aside, sensing the cold air of the room mixed with Harry’s warm breath fanning over your sex making your shiver and you shrieked when his four fingers slapped your cunt making the wet filthy sound which only made you drop more.

“Only when I order, looks like you didn’t read it properly you little slut. Lost a chance to feel my tongue on this little pussy of yours”

“I’m sorry sir, please”

“Please what?”

“Please forgive me and eat me out”

“And what are you?”

“I’m your filthy little slut, your whore. Please eat me out sir please” you whimpered as you pleaded harry dying to feel that muscular tongue on your pussy to finally see how it feels like to have his mouth on you which you’ve always dreamt of. Even though you were in a relationship, there always has been a sexual tension between you two which is the reason why you agreed on doing this at the first place.

“That’s right, you’re a whore. A little dirty whore.” And with that you felt his tongue lick a long stride of your lips pushing them open. That one lick was enough to make you squirm, what a shame you couldn’t see his face tucked between your legs as his chain dangles from his neck and gives your a perfect view of his chest from the black shirt he wore, unbuttoned enough for you to see his butterfly tattoo to the slightest.

“Who told you to stop, say the rules doll”

“I see you at least twice a week when you’re in town”

His mouth was now on your clit, sucking it like a leech. His lips left the bundle of nerve with a pop as his hand came in to rub it harshly, before his index finger collected your juices that dripped down your hole and you heard him licked it clean and without any word you feel your opening being stretched to the fullest when he inserted two fingers.

His mouth finding its way back to your clit, licking and sucking your pussy without any mercy. Your hips bucked up in his mouth which he roughly pinned down.

“If I see you doing that once more I swear to god you’ll forget how to walk you slut” he said through gritted teeth as if you interrupted his meal. He shook his head keeping his lips on your clit to give those toe curling vibrations with his fingers twisting inside you.

He felt your soft walls clenching as he let go of your swollen clit to take his fingers out and slide his tongue inside you feeling the warmth against his tongue.

He spread your legs open as he pushed his tongue in and out, tongue-fucking you savouring every drop you released.

“I only wear red and black lingerie when I see you”

His fingers came back in position as his mouth placed itself back on your clit not leaving the swollen bug alone. Your back now covered in sweat and your nipple perched up, mouth dry and pussy waiting to release.

“Wrong. You only wear red around me.”

And with that he flipped you over so that you were lying on your stomach and your ass was up in the air. Withing another second you felt a tight spank against your ass cheek making you hiss in pain.

“That’s what you get for being a dumb whore”

“Sorry sir”

Followed by another spank he pushed you back to him so that he could press his bulge to your arse.

“Grind. Grind like the little road slut you are” he gripped your ass so firmly that you could feel his metal rings digging in your skin as he held them strong in front of his crotch.

As you tried to held yourself up on your elbow he pressed your head down on the bed so that your cheek was squished against the soft cushion.

“Grind i said”

Obliging to his command your moved your ass up his all rock hard cock that you felt tight against your butt cheeks making you moan. Moving your ass in rounds and different directions you felt him buck further into your hips wanting for a release as his hands came in to grip your hair that fell down your shoulder.

Wrapping the long locks around his hand in a fist his he pushed your head back to that your tee which was covering your eyes now came down hanging around your neck which was strained because of his grip on your hair.

“I’m gonna fuck the shut outta you, gonna destroy that little cunt of yours and make you scream until you the only name you remember is mine and forget that asshole who made you cry” and that’s how your first night ended as a submissive after being raw dogged to the fullest with the rough hand prints laying on your ass cheeks.

 But that was just the beginning, so when one day you found yourself on your knees in the bathroom of a posh restaurant that Harry insisted to take you to you weren’t surprised.

You mouth dripping saliva as he held your face in one hand keeping it upwards so he will have a full view of your mouth which was sucking on his thick sick. Lips wrapped around his shaft you gagged when he bucked his hips further in your mouth hitting the back of your throat making it impossible for you to take him any deeper.

“Jesus fucking christ you little cunt” he moaned grabbing your mouth so he could move your head to his liking. Following his movements, you bobbed your head hold the base of his cock, twisting your hand around his with the faint wrist while you suckled with hollow cheeks.

It all started when he saw you arrive at the restaurant. Wearing a tight black dress that hugged your curves and gave all men a delicious view of your plunging breasts making the jaws drop.

“Meet me in the bathroom, right now”

“But wh-“

“Do as told”

And when you did you felt him grab you by your hair and push you against the counter so that your stomach was against the cold marble top while your ass was facing him which he wasted no second uncovering, lifting the almost sheer clothing and pushing it over your waist to reveal your unclothed bottom.

“fucking whore”

Your body flinched with pleasure disguised In pain as he raised his hand and slapped it across your cheeks looking at you straight through the mirror. His hand gripping your hair.

“Look at me” he ordered and you flickered your eyes open to see his dilated pupil and heavy breathing chest. His ring cladded slender fingers didn’t stop spanking shaking your whole body up until he pulled you back and pushed you down on your knees and stepped in front of you with his dick out and slapped it across your face.

“Open” he said holding his hard dick from the base and you did as told. Soon you felt it heavy on the tongue as he patted it on your tongue before pulling away, grabbing your cheeks and pulling your face upwards to him. His fingers wasted no time squishing your cheeks so that your mouth was open slightly giving him the perfect angel so spit in your mouth making you gasp.

“Swallow” and once again you do as told before grabbing his dick and kitten licking his tip, teasing him. But he wasn’t having it so grabbing the back of your head he pushed your head forward until his shaft was hitting the back of you had making your gag, your eyes picking up instant tears and he would’ve stopped right away if they were tears of pain, but they weren’t.

“this is what you get for breaking the rule of not wearing revealing clothes until I ask you to. Get treated like a slut, a fucking filthy whore in the public sucking my dick” he groaned as you played with his ball bobbing your hand.

His grip on your hair tightened before you felt his hot cum gushing down your throat which your swallowed without his order and let go of his cock with a ‘pop’.

Pulling your face up to him he swiped his thumb over your bottom lip collecting the escaping cum and pushing it in your mouth which you happily took sucking on his thumb.

“Be a good girl, and follow the rules”

[sapphic-yearning-lesbian]

A Modern AU

or

Namaari is randomly assigned a night shift in the ER where she meets a patient named Raya, who appears to be suffering from broken ribs. However, the shift takes a turn when Raya flatlines, and Namaari pushes herself to save the girl whose smile is engraved in her head.

Word Count: 2199

Warning’s: Major character injury, and a temporary death

--

Raya and Sisu are being walked into a patient room by an ER nurse called Atitaya. 

Sisu loudly states, “Stupid! All these injuries were caused by stupidness!” 

Raya glared at her as she held her sternum; she felt a lot of tenderness and trouble breathing. She couldn’t see, but she was sure that her rib cage would be bruised if she lifted her shirt. It’s just a few broken ribs, she thought before answering, “Tong was looking at me funny!”  

“He smiled at you…because you tripped,” Sisu replied, rubbing her face with her hands as they entered the patient room.

Once entering the room, Raya quickly jumps onto the patient’s bed, resulting in her groaning in pain. “The details on how the fight broke out don’t matter. I WON: I broke one of his front teeth, his nose, and made it nearly impossible for him to have children again”. She answered as she licked the inside of her left cheek, tasting iron. She must have bitten the inside of her lip when she received a punch to her face.

Both Raya and Sisu noticed the nurse was now nervous. Then again: Who could blame her after what she just heard. But no matter how scared Atitaya was internally, she still placed a pulse oximeter on Raya’s left index finger and a blood pressure cuff on her right arm. Before taking an oral temperature.

“Remember, I work here, Raya! Please don’t scare my coworkers,” Sisu pledges as she looks at Atitaya smiling before sitting down. “Tong should also be a patient of yours tonight. I know this sounds crazy, but we’re all great friends.” 

Suddenly Tong’s voice is echoing through the ER hallways. “ARE YOU OKAY, RAYA” Atitaya jumps as she finishes taking Raya’s temperature.

“I’M ALRIGHT! SORRY TONG, I HOPE YOUR MANLY HOOD WASN’T LOST,” Raya screams back, smiling, as his laughter is filling the hallway once again. She turns to look at Sisu, who is practically crying in the chair from embarrassment. 

“Ms. Hart. I’m going to have to ask you to not scream,” The nurse says in a calm voice, trying not to smile. 

Raya begins to nod in agreement before she starts clenching at her chest before gasping for air. The pain is excruciating. Yet, she is still hopeful it’s just broken ribs, and they haven’t punctured her lung; because that would hurt way more...right?

Atitaya was about to excuse herself from the room to locate Namaari, the nurse practitioner who can order an X-ray and medicine. Yet as she unbadged herself from the computer, she hears three knocks on the door. A tale sign that Namaari was about to enter the room. The three knocks are a secret signal she uses with all her nurses to know of her presence.

“Hello. My name is Namaari; I’m the nurse practitioner this night shift. I heard the screaming and your very muffled voice. Could I take a look at your injury?” 

Raya’s head jerks in the direction of the knocks spotting the new nurse, Namaari. She smiles widely. The new nurse is wearing a white coat over grey scrubs. Her scrubs were tightly fitted, showing that under, she had a muscular figure. Her skin was golden brown, with piercing brown eyes. She also had a very attractive undercut screaming, ‘Sapphic.’ 

Raya also notices a tattoo cuff on her left ear, probably because it’s a safety hazard to wear jewelry in hospitals: They can easily be pulled by angry or upset patients--She lightly bites on her bottom lip before answering, “Are you sure my voice was muffled? Maybe you were just attracted to my voice and needed a reason to come in here,” She felt pretty winded after that finishing her sentence, but she was still able to lift her left eyebrow. 

And yes, Raya was dam aware she shouldn’t be hitting on the hospital staff, but come one. She’s hot.

“RAYA” Sisu screamed from the corner of the room.

Namaari stood at the door frame with a gentle smile on her lips.

Raya assumed the flirting attempt went over Namaari’s head. She couldn’t bear to think the gorgeous nurse was choosing to ignore her. “I would have gotten myself injured sooner if I knew this godly woman would show up to rescue me,” Raya struggles to say as she winks. 

Seconds later, Raya’s body was overwashed with a painful sting “ah fuck” she states as she curls into herself, gripping at her right ribcage.

Namaari was used to patients flirting with her; It comes with the job. However, It’s usually easy for her to ignore flirtations. Yet Namaari wasn’t blind; this patient was gorgeous even in her physical state.

Raya was beaten, a purple bruise appearing on her left cheek, her clothes dirty from the struggle of her disagreement. 

Namaari cannot deny how Raya’s smile made her feel some weird sensation in the pit of her stomach: People call that feeling butterflies. 

This patient was trouble, but that somehow excited Namaari.

Suddenly Namaari remembered the other voice in the room and turned to see Sisu, jumping from her seat running over to Raya. She didn’t necessarily consider Sisu, a friend. Still, she often saw her in the ER because she is part of the psychiatry department. Sisu would often come and evaluate patients for hospitalization. “Quite ironic, how a trauma nurse is in the ER for a trauma injury,” Sisu hummed as she ran her hands through Raya’s hair. 

Namaari forced herself out of her thoughts and walked over to Raya. Looking up at the vital machine monitor. Her pulse was high, resting in the 110s, and her blood pressure was also abnormal. “Call for an X-ray and tell them I okayed it.” She finally says, looking straight at Antitya, who nods and exits the room.

Namaari walks over to the computer in the room, quickly badging in and ordering her some narcotics to give Raya once the broken or fractured ribs are conformed by the X-ray. 

Sisu is just smiling at Namaari from afar as she consoles Raya, who is cussing in pain with each of her breathe’s. 

“Can you please lay back on the bed so I can look at your injury” Raya hears the attractive nurse say. She hums as Sisu lets go of her stepping back, her place now replaced by Namaari smiling gently at her. Raya tried to shift her position to lay herself on the bed, but it hurt so much to do it. 

Raya felt as she was being punched in the lungs if she moved even an ounce. To distract herself from her pain, she watched as Namaari, who looked over at the vital machine, and for a moment, panic showed on her face. Nevertheless, Namaari’s eyes meet hers again as she smiled, trying to comfort her, which she did. 

However, seconds later, Raya felt her brain becoming fuzzy with the pain radiating all over her body, her breathing very labored as she gasped for air. Raya knew she was about to pass out, but she never felt safer. She knew she was in Namaari’s hands, and something deep down within her knew she would be okay.

Namaari watched as Raya’s pulse shot up to 140, while her Oxygen dropped to 87. This wasn’t just a case of broken ribs anymore. 

Namaari quickly walked towards the wall and pulled on a red switch, the rapid code. Its unique alarm went off, and she knew that the call light was flashing red outside. Both these tools allow for the other medical staff to be informed the patient in that room is deteriorating, and further assistance is needed.

Raya’s vision was becoming blurred with speckles of black as she was consumed by her agony. All she wanted to do was scream or even cry, but the pain was so immense that her body forced her to stay silent. Raya felt like a prisoner in her body, unable to communicate what she was experiencing. 

Soon enough, Raya was overwashed with a need to close her eyes; it’s like her body was promising her that if she went to sleep, the pain would stop. She wanted to give in to this promise, but she fought it for now.

Raya couldn’t move, but she felt as the nurse slowly guided her down onto the bed as Sisu cried in the background. The rapid alarm echoed throughout the room, and she couldn’t help but laugh in her mind as this time it was pulled for her. Most times, Raya was running the rapid codes saving people’s lives, yet right now, her life rested in that beautiful nurse’s hands. 

Those were Raya’s last thoughts as her mind went blank, properly passing out.

Once Namaari guided Raya to lay on her back, she quickly placed an oxygen mask on her as the room was suddenly swimming with more staff members. Everyone trying to help in some way, taking blood pressures, starting an IV, calling for a portable X-ray machine, and calling for an OR in case of emergency surgery: as it seemed, Raya did have a punctured lung caused by her broken ribs.

Suddenly Atitaya was next to Namaari. “I told Sisu to wait in the waiting room; she didn’t want to go, but I showed her out” OHH, yea Raya’s girlfriend, Maari thought. 

Apparently, Sisu was screaming in the background, which she completely blocked from her head. Namaari’s excuse being that she was trying to save Raya’s life. “I should have known she was high on adrenaline, and It was muting her pain symptoms--” Atitaya whispered to Namaari.

 Namaari knew her nurse was blaming herself for something she didn’t think about either. She let the girl’s beautiful coffee eyes distract her. And now she’s watching her vitals plummet.

Suddenly a women’s voice screamed, “She decompensating. She’s about to flatline someone start compressions NOW.” Namaari didn’t look up to check who ordered that; she assumed the order was from a resident. Namaari quickly crouched and pressed on the CPR lever under the bed that laid the bed completely flat. She quickly placed her left hand over her right interlocking her fingers after standing up before placing her hands on Raya’s sternum. She began compressions, two inches deep each time. Simultaneously, Atitaya was bagging Raya so she could breathe for her. 

After the first round of 30 compressions; The resident speaks again, “Turn her onto her side Namaari” Namaari did as she was told, recognizing the voice to belong to Amba. Anyways, another staff member slipped a flat board under Raya’s back. Once it was in place, Namaari quickly laid her back down and continued compressions. Soon a tiny monitor was placed below Namaari’s hands, which actually told her if her compressions were deep enough.

After about 3 minutes of constant compressions, Namaari’s compressions weren’t deep enough. “Switch,” She states as Atitaya takes over compressions and Namaari begins to bag Raya. 

Only once Namaari stopped compressions did she notice the room was full of various staff members; the rapid code was now a code blue, a whole different sound echoing through the room. 

It’s crazy, but you don’t hear these changes during an emergency. You only listen to what’s essential to saving the patient’s life.

As Atitaya performed more compressions, the sound of one of Raya’s ribs breaking under her force was heard. Atitaya flinched, realizing she caused her recovery to be longer if she survives. But that sometimes happens; you hurt the person you’re trying to save. Most people don’t mind a broken rib if it means you saved their life.

Namaari was snapped back into the present when she heard “charge to 100” before “CLEAR.” That’s all it took. Raya’s pulse came back. Namaari felt so relieved: She’s always happy to save someone’s life, but today, right now, she’s overjoyed. 

Nevertheless, Namaari doesn’t understand how two sentences from this patient had her heart throbbing within her chest. 

She doesn’t know how or why the relief she’s currently experiencing is so overpowering.

With all these inner thoughts, Namaari still smiles as now she has the chance to get to know Raya. UGHHH, no, you cannot get to know her! She’s dating Sisu...

Stop overthinking Namaari. SNAP OUT OF IT!

“Thank’s, Namaari. We’ll take it from here,” Amba, the surgical resident, says; As a portable x-ray machine is brought into the room to scan Raya. 

Once a resident or doctor from a different unit takes over, Raya is no longer her patient, and she needs to let her go and help another patient. Even so, she left the room and waited outside it to listen in. “She’s punctured her left lung; we need to rush her into emergency surgery, page Pengu. He’s the best cardiothoracic surgeon!” 

Namaari exhaled as she watched nurses and doctors from the surgical unit transport, Raya, off the emergency unit to the operating room. 

Namaari had gotten Raya’s heart to pump again, but the surgery will decide whether she lives or dies. Knowing this, she rested her head on the wall regaining her posture, putting a smile on her face as she heard her name being called from another patient’s room. 

--

Let me know if you want me to continue it! :) 

[visionsofus]

angsty 29 please? :)

Hi anon! thank you for requesting some angst, I love writing it ☺️

I've done a longer sick fic and an injured fic too but I think it's about time I write another. Hmm, if anyone wants to send a more detailed sick fic prompt I'd be more than happy to provide the angst.

Also just while thinking about this prompt I had an idea for an ‘emergency contact’ fic but Wanda’s on the run and hasn’t seen Vis in a year? She gets into an accident and Vision arrives at the hospital all frantic? Maybe I could write that too.

29. How do they handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness?

For now, a disaster fic in which the compound is victim of a cyber attack, Vision goes up against it and gets in trouble.

For a second Wanda thought that maybe the power had simply gone out, it was a plausible enough explanation for all the lights suddenly shutting off. But the compound was powered by arc reactors and Wanda knew enough about them to understand they wouldn’t be affected by a power outage.

“Friday?” Wanda called out to the air, suddenly feeling far more alone with the lights out. Tony’s AI did not respond.

Familiar enough with the layout of her room and relying on a shaft of moonlight from the open window, Wanda made it to her door and opened it.

Down the corridor she heard Sam’s door open and a distinct “What the fuck?” emerge. Wanda used the wall to reach him, touching his shoulder once she was near enough.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked.

“I have no idea,” Wanda said and was just able to make out Sam fishing his phone from his jeans.

The screen should have lit up, but it didn’t. “It was fully charged,’ Sam said, confused. Wanda didn’t know what that meant but it certainly couldn’t be good. She raised a hand and summoned forth a ball of red energy, it cast a distorted red haze across the walls around them but was better than nothing.

Walking slowly, they made it down the stairs and into the living room to find that someone had lit some candles where their teammates had gathered together. Tony had a tablet in front of him, but its screen was dark just like Sam’s phone. Everyone was murmuring in concern, looking to Tony for direction.

“—this shouldn’t be happening, even I can’t hack our system, the firewalls are too tight—” Tony was speaking quickly and not acknowledging the concerned whispers of his friends, all attention directed at Vision.

Wanda released her powers and went to Vision’s side instantly. His posture was tight enough for Wanda to tell he was in some sort of pain. It took all her control not to take his hand and syphon that pain off onto herself.

“This is not generic hacking, it’s a targeted cyber-attack.”

Tony stood immediately, a new urgency about his face. Wanda had never seen him look startled, let alone scared. “Vision you have to cut yourself off now!”

But whatever risk Tony’s foresight had identified, it was too late. Vision went rigid and Wanda cried out in panic as she watched him fall to his knees, shoulders trembling as though under a great, invisible weight.

She didn’t hesitate now and threw herself to the floor beside him, both hands on his cheeks. “Vision!”

Every muscle appeared to have pulled taught and his vibranium turned to stone in response to whatever was going on within his mind. Wanda watched on in horror as Vision’s eyes went wide and then blank. Never before had she looked into the synthezoid’s eyes and not recognised him. The blue had gone cold and unwelcoming and it sent a chill down Wanda’s spine.

“Maximoff, get away from him,” Tony said urgently, gesturing for the rest of the team to back away “If they’ve compromised him, they can control him.”

“Bruce, how’s the back-up generator?” Tony cried into a radio.

Bruce Banner’s voice crackled over in response, “Almost done.”

“Wanda, please,” Nat said stepping forward and putting a hand on Wanda’s shoulder to draw her away. She shook it off in frustration and moved her hands higher, placing them at Vision’s temple.

Wanda had delved into Vision’s mind before but only with his permission. Her first few months at the compound, when her nightmares were particularly bad, a touch of the hand from Vision and he’d invite her into his tranquil brain to deter her terror. Occasionally, Vision preferred to use the telepathy rather than speaking aloud, he found it particularly useful when he couldn’t find the words to vocalise a certain feeling. Never before had Wanda been forced to intrude in this way. But as she pressed forward, she found little resistance.

In the real-world Wanda gasped, winded as she was abruptly dragged into Vision’s mind. He pulled her in desperately, only conscious enough to recognise her familiarity.

In her mind’s eye Wanda was in a small, cramped room. There was a window set into one wall with rain streaming down it, though she wasn’t sure how that was possible. Far above she heard the crackle of thunder and further away what might have been a fire alarm. Vision was tucked up on an old armchair, his head tilted to the side and his eyes closed. For a second Wanda’s heart stopped — but no there it was, the tell-tale rise and fall of his chest.

She reached his side instantaneously, her body not fully present. As she did, Vision’s eyes opened, at first panic stricken but relaxing when he saw her.

“Wanda, darling,” Vision said, holding a hand out for her. But Wanda wasn’t really there, and so couldn’t take it.

“Vision, we have to go, you need to wake up,” Wanda said desperately, not sure if she was thinking it or speaking aloud.

In the distance she heard Tony’s voice, but could barely make out what he was saying. You need to get him to go offline, Wanda.

In the seconds that it took her to divert her attention to Tony, she lost her grip with Vision. The space shifted around them and suddenly they were in another room. For a moment she didn’t recognise where they were, after all, she had only been in Avenger’s tower once, two years earlier. The room was frayed round the edges, like it had slipped Vision’s mind, but the centre scene was clear as it had been the night he was created.

Vision stood before his cradle.

“Vision?” Wanda asked hesitantly moving forward. “What’s going on?”

She recalled Tony’s warning.

“You have to go offline,” she said, hoping Vision would know what that meant.

“I cannot.” Vision’s voice echoed when he spoke, as though it were coming from all around her. “I cannot.”

“Why not?” Wanda asked, reaching out to touch him. Forgetting that she had no hand, that she was merely a presence within his head.

“I disconnect myself then that’s it…” Vision’s voice was growing quieter, and beyond it a loud alarm could be heard. “I am of no use without my mind.”

“That’s not true, Vision,” Wanda pleaded.

“Hurry up Maximoff!” Tony sounded fearful.

“Vision, please, switch it off!”

“I am nothing without this.” Vision looked intently at the cradle.

“You are not nothing!” Wanda yelled, her voice almost drowned out by the chorus of alarms now echoing in her head, uncertain if they were from the real world or a product of Vision’s mind. “You are you, even without a direct line to every piece of knowledge known to humanity!”

Certain that her words weren’t having an effect, Wanda reached deeper, beyond words and followed Vision’s example. She let him into her head. Dragged him into the intimate depths where she kept her fondest memories, guarded beyond steel walls so they might never be taken from her. She let him feel how she felt, let him see his friendships with their teammates from her perspective, she let him see exactly how extraordinary she thought him. And for added measure she let him taste the smallest touch of grief she might feel if he was ever taken from her.

Vision in the Avenger’s tower staggered towards the cradle even as Wanda was thrown from his mind. The last thing she saw was him gripping the power source of the cradle and ripping it out.

Back in the physical realm Wanda’s eyes locked on Vision’s, which were familiar once more. There were voices roiling around them as Tony talked about damage control and what they might have lost, but the lights were coming back on and Vision was here, so Wanda drowned it all out.

“It’s so quiet,” Vision whispered, his eyes were unfocused, “so, so quiet.”

“What do I do?” He whispered fearfully.

Wanda was ready when Vision fell forward, catching his shoulders and letting him lean against her. She caressed the back of his head comfortingly. “You’re ok, you’re here,” she whispered as he clung to her. “You’re safe, I’m here.”

I'm so sorry if this sucked I think I've lost all my words recently

(ask me a prompt from this list and I'll give you a drabble - we'll ignore that this was longer than your typical drabble)

[emiefaunwrites]

Okay so legit now. Someone asked an innocent question about Taka and now...NOW I can't ignore what my brain has conjured up. I would tag them but I'm not sure they'll be interested in my Ishileon bullshit!!

So yeah. Thank you very much @faustsqueeze for triggering me! I have to write this brainrot now haha! Sorry its Ishileon but they my boyyyys!

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

• Taka likes his classical music.

• It's what he considers 'appropriate' music.

• The modern music these days are just full of sex and drugs and curses.

• As the Ultimate Moral Compass, he cannot condone such...such...THINGS.

• But ever since he heard Leon's SoundCloud rapping, he keeps hearing people listening to rap music.

• He'll pass through the halls and there it is again: that beat and that flow and those clever lyrics...

• DAMN IT!

• He can't help but ask Hiro and Makoto who they're listening to and they let him know its Eminem.

• And don't you know he heads straight to his room, switches on the laptop and listens to as many songs as he can.

• Everything about this man's music is vulgar and offensive and it goes against everything he should stand for.

• BUT HE LOVES IT!

• It's just ADDICTIVE and WITTY and FUNNY and he can't help but play it over and over again.

• And as Taka has an impeccible memory, he learns the entirety of Rap God word perfect within a couple of weeks of obsessive listening.

• But of course, no one can know.

• He is the Ultimate Moral Compass! He can't be seen to listening to inappropriate songs.

• And he's just getting to know Leon! And...he LIKES how he sticks to his morals and is pure hearted and all that. He of all people CANNOT know!

• But what he does in secret is just that. His own little secret.

• And we all know that secrets come out in the open eventually.

• Leon's on his way to the cafeteria one lunch time and decides to stop and see if Taka wants to join in.

• They went on their second date a couple of days ago and he's DESPERATE to arrange the next one as soon as possible.

• So he dusts off imaginary dust from his t-shirt as he walks over to Taka's door...

• And hears the low beat of a song coming from inside.

• Oh Jesus, he's listening to his SoundCloud again!

• Lifting his fist to knock, he finally catches some of the lyrics:

• 'This flippity dippity-hippity hip-hop, You don't really wanna get into a pissin' match, With this rappity brat, packin' a MAC, In the back of the Ac', Backpack rap crap, yap-yap, yackety-yack...'

• Of course Leon recognises the song now - Hiro jist won't stop listening to it.

• So it's not that the song is unfamiliar that shocks him...

• It's that Taka was rapping the lyrics.

• Word.

• Fucking.

• Perfect.

• Holy SHIT!

• He stands stunned outside the door for a few more moments, hearing curses and obscene lyrics coming out of his crush's mouth effortlessly.

• But eventually he knocks, not surprised to hear the music switch off abruptly with some squeaks of panic before the door opens to an overly cheerful Taka.

• 'Ah! Leon! Hello!'

• 'Hey...'

• 'Can...can I help you?'

• 'Yeah. Can I come in?'

• Lunch is entirely forgotten as Leon steps into the room, eyes scanning for the source of music.

• And the only thing he can see is the laptop.

• Taka's looking all shifty too - eyes darting over to said laptop, hands opening and closing against his legs.

• 'S-so...how can I help?'

• 'Oh. My uh...my laptop died. I need to look something up quick. Can I use yours?'

• Lies. Utter lies. But Taka isn't picking up on that as the colour drains from his face - spluttering about using the library or Mondo's or Chi or ANYONE else...

• 'I'll just be quick. Promise. Please?'

• He doesn't wait for an answer and moves towards the laptop, Taka squawking in panic down his ear...

• And sure enough, a Youtube video of Rap God is the first thing open.

• Leon hears the little squeak of shame from behind him, smiling to himself he clicks a new tab and looks up some random thing.

• And just gets up, closing the laptop and stands with - smiling at Taka, who's furiously blushing before heading to the door.

• 'Thanks!'

• 'Wait wait!'

• Leon stops as his arm is pulled back, looking at an extremely ashamed Taka.

• 'Hmm?'

• 'You're...you're not...disappointed?'

• That catches Leon off guard. Why the hell would he be disappointed that Taka listens to...

• Ah.

• A conversation at their last date springs back to his mind - a comment he made on how much he liked Taka's pure heart.

• And this is obviously something Taka thinks will ruin Leon's view of him.

• 'So you like a bit rap? It's no big deal. I like loads of different things. You think I care what people say?'

• Taka's clearly not convinced.

• 'And it doesn't change what I think. You're still cute, even if you swear to a song.'

• Now THAT brings a smile Taka's face, eyes watering with a light flush on his cheeks.

• But then it drops into an accusational glare.

• 'You heard, didn't you?'

• Busted.

• So with a swagger, Leon strides into Taka's personal space and smirks flirtily - pushing his luck.

• 'Hearing you say 'fuck' made my day.'

• Taka has NEVER gone so red so fast in his life!!

[enigma-im]

What We Do With Shadows Pt.2

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Shadow monster x F!Human Warnings: kitchen sex, fluff, blood mention, minor violence, takes place immediatly after the first

Word Count: 3406

Pt.1

----------------------

I wake up a few hours later, glancing at the window, it’s still dark out. I rub my face into the pillow below me, taking in a deep breath. I go to sit up but I'm pulled back down.

"Why are you up," Raguel grumbles against my back. At some point in the night, we have switched to spooning. His arms are wrapped tightly around my stomach and our legs are twined together.

"Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you," I look over my shoulder. He hums before rubbing his forehead to the back of my neck.

"Its alright," He takes in a deep breath," you smell like me."

"Do I? I should probably go shower then," I try to get up again. I didn’t get to do any of my post-sex rituals, probably need to clean the sheets later today. Before I can get far Raguel pulls me back down. Turning so I'm resting on his chest.

"Don’t you ever, stay like this for a while longer or I will bend you over again," he purrs near my ear. Licking the shell as he squeezes me a bit tighter.

I blush," So you really want to do that again?"

He stops abusing my ear," Of course I do. Every day if that’s an option."

"Everyday," I yelp," are you trying to kill me?" he chuckles against me. He flips us over so he is on top, looking down at me with a wide grin.

"I could never, I promised you everything and I don’t intend to lose you anytime soon," he leans down and pecks my nose," Shall I demonstrate my dedication? I can actually take my time this go around." He leans back down for a kiss but I press against his chest.

"I think food and a shower is needed first," I try to argue. He pouts," also I need to go to the bathroom."

He huffs," fine, I shall relent this time. I need to go deal with something anyway. Meet you downstairs for some very early breakfast?"

"Yea, what do you have to deal with," I ask. Instead of answering he leans down and kisses me. He parts but leans back for another, then another. I push him away after a moment, really needing to pee. "Ok Raguel, meet you downstairs," I smile up at him, petting up his chest.

He holds my hand against himself," So beautiful, how often would you say your ex made you smile?" I notice him calling Nick my ex. Which I guess is right.

"Not enough," I answer honestly," Now let's get up, you are distracting me."

He leans down and buries his face on my neck, purring," You are no saint either, laying here naked beneath me."

"I can change if you like," I tease back.

He growls against me," I'd keep you naked here all day if I could. Actually, that sounds like a plan. I'll get us some food and you stay here."

"Raguel," I chuckle," I really need to go to the bathroom." he relents, falling to my side.

"Fine," he huffs. I get out of bed and look over at him sprawled out. He turns his head and gives me a once over, "You should leave now because this view is giving me ideas."

I quickly scurry away, feeling giddy as anyone could be. I trot down the hall, the pep in my step unfamiliar to me. It's an old feeling to be so excited, like a long lost friend. I know when I was first with Nick the feeling with always there but as time went so did the enjoyment. Chalking that up to the plateauing of our relationship. Shortly after the joy of a new relationship just vanished into anxiety and fear. Raguel brought fear but mostly of the unknown. His words brought on confliction and doubt that bloomed into self-determination.

I like Raguel, that's simple. I don't really know where we are going after this. Though he has admitted and confirmed his attraction and devotion the worry still lingers of his true intentions. He cannot be all good, there are no such things as heroes in polished armor ready to save a helpless person. That is just childish of me to assume such a thing, just like it's childish to assume he will be true and kind forever.

I trail out the bathroom in thought though a bit of satisfaction still rests in my chest. I was never one for such raunchy displays but the way Raguel claimed me in front of Nick was all too satisfying to not feel the next day. Walking into my room I immediately notice Raguel's absents. A twang of stress slithers into my brain but I cannot bring myself to fuel the flame this time.

I grab some clothes and dress casually for the day. Making my way downstairs I ponder if Raguel actually requires food. I start on a simple breakfast that’s easily made and shared amongst two people. As I watch the eggs quickly fry in the pan a pair of arms snake around my waist, pulling me flush against a body.

"Smells good," Raguel sways us. A smile forces its way onto my lips, peeling back more as his lips drag along my cheek.

"I didn't know how you would want your eggs so I made them scrambled," I glance at him from the corner of my eye," I hope that is alright."

"whatever you make I will devour it like a starving man," he answers. He snags a piece from the pan before walking away. I watch him for a moment, finally admiring him in the light. His attractiveness is just as appealing now as it was last night. Though his strangeness attempts to trump that allure, it only seems to fuel it. The swaying tail catches my attention though, remembering that curled around my thigh last night.

"See something you like," Raguel purrs. I meet his eyes, having ripped my attention from the lazy swings of his thin tail.

"I-ah-sorry," I blush. Quickly, I twist away focusing back on the food. I shift the food around embarrassed, flustered at the lude images plaguing my thoughts.

Arms curl back around my waist," Now, no need for all that, love. I want your attention constantly, especially when it's with such an open invitation." his fingers slowly slide down my sides, cupping my hips as he pulls them back. "that was an invitation," he licks up my neck," Right?"

I shutter in his arms," It is now," I mumble under my breath. His cocky chuckle brings a chill to my skin.

"Good girl," he purrs. He reaches in front of me, taking the pan off the stove before fisting the hem of my shirt. He curls the fabric slowly upwards, his other hand resting on the newly exposed skin. His warm palm gropes at my stomach, trailing upward with my shirt till he can squeeze at my chest. He growls in my ear, his teeth dimpling the skin of shoulder as he nibbles. His hips nudge my ass, requesting as well as demanding.

"Raguel," I murmur. He tweaks my nipple, brushing the pads of his fingers along the pebbled peaks. Soon his other hand runs lazily down my torso to reach my crotch. He slides under the edge of my pants, cupping my crotch swiftly. Raguel delves a finger between my folds, growling excitedly as he feels my wet heat. With only a few strokes to my begging clit does he change objectives.

As one hand palms at my chest and the other grinding against my crotch Raguel shoves my pants down. As I look down I see the faint wisps of darkness fading away, a snicker coming from behind me.

"I seem to have no patience when it comes to you," he bends me forward," it seems some practice would be in need to conquer the likes of you, temptress." I catch myself on my hands, framing the stove in front of me. The heat of the previously lit top is a completely different feeling to the heat of Raguel's cock nudging at my folds. Within a blink he shoves forward, wasting no time being buried within me.

"Oh god," I clench at the counter, my head falling forward. Raguel's body cradles me against his with a sigh of relief. His fingers flex against my crotch, his chest resting warm against my back. He chuckles, sending hot breath down my shirt.

"God? I thought I was an angel," he laughs," but I guess I like the ring of God just a bit better." I want to scoff at his ego but his retreating cock steals my breath. He forces the air back in with a sharp buck of his hips. He stills once again, sighing against the back of my neck.

Raguel's hips draw back barely a few inches then slapping forward harshly. The slow languid pull-outs are the complete opposite to the demanding bucks forward. It feels almost like he regrets pulling back to begin with, rushing to fill the space he regretfully left. His pace is torturous but words evade me more than ever now. The hand over my crotch grinds oh so well into my clit with every buck. The harsh thrusts making me hump into his awaiting palm. His slow but harsh pace is taking too long, it's becoming harder to keep quiet.

"Raguel," I sinfully groan. The command for more rests on the tip of my tongue but the words refuse to leave.

"Yes, love," he purrs so erotically in my ear. His rumbling voice makes my head turn to mush, flatling my heart as I hear the excitement in his words.

"P-Please," I spill out," please."

"What do you need? Ask your god for anything," he bucks sharply," I'm here solely for your pleasure."

My legs nearly give out at his egotistical declaration. The cocky tone mixed with his devoted words nearly undoes me.

"Faster," I say firmly," please, Raguel."

" Good girl," he growls," your wish is my command."

He pulls out slow once more before thoroughly fucking me. His hip slap against me, clapping at my cheeks loudly. I jolt with every thrust, clenching the counters in a white grip. A drawn-out groan starts lowly in my throat, my insides being set aflame with his cock. I cannot think, only feel as he ravages me. The sensation is only similar to the first time he did this. No one has come close to the way he makes me sing.

"Eva," he murmurs against my shoulder," I need you to cum for me, fuck, please." my eyes rolls at his plead, the change in command thrilling me so. I adore what he does to me but I almost adore more what I do to him.

His fingers flex messily over my clit as he bucks and thrusts into my body. I can't hold on anymore, falling for the climax that bursts from within.

I hold the counter as my legs shake. I faintly feel a hand trail over my arm as I cry out in ecstasy. Fingers card through mine, holding them in a tight grip as I clench around Raguel's now throbbing cock. His choked grunts match with my drawn-out moans. I can feel him shoot his load inside me, adding to my already heart-stopping orgasm. We ride out our peaks, fueling the other with our erotic singing.

Before I can allow myself to think straight Raguel takes me to the floor. Slowly he settles use against the cabinets, our back resting against the cold wood. His arms stay snug around me as I sit lax in his lap. Occasionally I feel him press short peck to the back of my head, nuzzling his nose to my hair.

"We should get up and eat breakfast before it gets cold," I mumble, petting my fingertips over his arm. He hums in answer, pecking my temple with his lips.

"Just a moment longer," he grumbles.

"Don't fall asleep on me now," I tease. He huffs in amusement, swatting my thigh with his tail.

"Not my fault you’re a succubus whose sole purpose is to drain me everything I have," he jokes. I fluster easily at his accusation. I hardly assumed myself to be 'sexy' or 'alluring' enough to be titled as a succubus.

After a moment of cuddling on the floor, we get up. I pull my pants back on as Raguel heads for the cabinets. He grabs two plates and two cups, setting them on the counter. I help out, reaching for a plate to fill with the breakfast I made. Before I can reach it his tail wraps around my wrist and tugs me away.

"No, I got this. Go sit down," he scolds, pointing towards the table. I watch him confused, meals are my job. Nick never wanted to busy himself with such feminine tasks.

"but-," I try to convince him otherwise.

"No," he interrupts," you drain my balls, I serve you food. That’s the deal." I fluster immediately, squirming as I focus on the feel of him still inside me. I want to retort with something, anything, but words fail me. He grins, walking over to peck me on the lips. "Go sit," he whispers. I just nod, turning and walking to the dining table.

Raguel swiftly decorates the plates with an assortment of food then places them on the table. We feast in relative silence, passing flirty glances once in a while. Everything feels so carefree this morning, not a stroke of tension to be found. It's strange in its own right to be so happy when yesterday I was being so blank for what feels like my whole life. Nick took so much out of me that it felt normal to be so out of touch. Only having Raguel in my life for a day has changed so much.

I watch Raguel for a moment, seeing him finish off his sides of berries. He catches my eye as he pops a blueberry into his mouth, he gives me a toothy grin.

"Thank you," I smile back. He leans forward to rest his head on his propped up hand.

"Whatever for, love," he asks. I watch him for a moment more, capturing this scene as vividly as possible in my mind.

"Thanks for being here and… god, for everything really," I shrug. There aren't enough words to capture how I feel at this moment. To have nothing then to have everything is too fulfilling to put into mere sentences.

Raguel's playful grin twists into such admiration it feels like cupid shooting an arrow into my heart. He sits up from the table, rounding it to crouch next to me. He grabs the edge of my seat and jerks it to face him. Then he crawls between my legs, pushing my knees away so he fits perfectly.

Raguel reaches up and cradles my face," I have been in this house for years, haunting these grounds out of boredom more than demand. I have seen a lot in my time, seeing more than you could ever know. Those years have been nothing compared to the past 24 hours. To finally feel your lips against mine, to have your body expertly molded against mine, it's a dream come true. The cherry on top is putting that scum bag ex in his place. I've watched you for some time and last night is when I knew I loved you. Eva, I love you so damn much that it feels like I'm going to burst with it. Thank you, thank you so much Eva for accepting me into your life so easily. I will repay that in full for the rest of my life."

I can't even begin with how touching his words are. My heart aches in my chest with the swelling of emotions, quick to burst at any moment. I have to grab, I have to pull him close and kiss that cocky, arrogant face.

"to the rest of our lives," I smile into the kiss.

"To the rest of our lives," he grins back.

the day turns into a close as Raguel admires the gift resting in his arms. He knows that everything in his life should warn him against having something so special like her. Yet his wants can't be denied, what he wants he gets. That is the way of life, anything worth fighting for is also worth dying for. Not that the threat looms over him but the threat to her still exists in some capacity and that will never sit well for Raguel.

Raguel watches Eva for a moment longer than intended, just too captivated by the human to sneak away. The ideas of his task begin to take hold of his imagination to the point that he can finally turn away from her. With a sigh he forms into a mist, drifting out of the room with ease.

He drifts swiftly through the hall and down the stairs, seeping through the floorboards into the cellar. The dark dank room only has the sounds of dripping water as Raguel converges back into himself. With a flick of his hair, he casually walks into the barely lit room ahead. As he creaks open the door a sharp inhale is heard from beyond.

"Good evening, nick," Raguel grins, meeting the eyes of the exhausted man.

"Please," Nick weeps," I won't tell anyone, just let me go." Raguel crosses the room swiftly, admiring the wet, bleeding man strung up before him. The cruel lacerations decorating his chest brings a thrill to Raguel. The blood that has streamed down his torso is long dried after this morning. It's perhaps time to make some new ones.

"Now why would I let you go," Raguel tilts his head," we have only just gotten to know each other." wisps of smokes spread across the floor, lazily trailing towards Nick. The teasing path leaves enough time for Nick to notice, panting, and writhing against his confines.

"No, please," Nick begs. The tendrils of smoke crawl up his body towards his chest, coalescing against his cuts. They thread through the wounds, expanding once they enter. The reopened lashes pool with blood, drops running down his chest once more. Nick whimpers in pain as Raguel snickers in delight.

"I had a fantastic day with Eva," Raguel starts as he paces the room," she cooked breakfast, which is so nice of her, and we made love on your kitchen floor. I had her screaming my name, I wouldn't be surprised if you didn’t hear it. She even called me god, how fulfilling."

"stop," Nick pleads," you can have her, I won't bother you two again. I swear!"

Raguel tosses a blank look at the man, crossing his arms behind himself as he walks forward. He towers over the injured man with such superiority that Nick would cower if he could.

"Do you believe I need your permission? Do you assume you have some semblance of power here that you can freely give and take choices," Raguel quickly grabs at Nick's chin, forcing his focus on solely him," You do not plague this house with your filth any longer! You had your chance and now I have mine. Eva belongs to me, not because I demand it but because I earned it. Now, remember your place because you have surely earned it as well." Raguel shoves Nick away, his nails biting into the man's cheek before he departs.

As Nick sulks against the far wall Raguel walks over to a corner. He investigates the items in front of him, grabbing a suitable object. He carries it behind his back as he walks back towards nick.

"I'm feeling quite joyful this evening so tell me, Nick," Raguel twists the gardening fork to his front," what're your thoughts on landscaping?"

The cries of pain cannot be heard through the house, not a soul knows about the reckoning happening just below.

As Raguel finishes playing he cleans up and heads back into bed. As he settles under the sheets Eva twists to grab at him, curling into his side swiftly. With a smile, Raguel kisses the crown of her head, pulls her in close, and falls asleep. Both feeling content and safe as a deviant soul clings to life below.

----------------------------------------

Did y’all know Raguel is actually a bad dude? When I made him I wanted him to be cocky, arrogant, but a little sweet. With Eva is gentle and patient, if not a little insecure. He has never had to attract someone and he wants Eva to like him. he will protect and love her but to do that he will straight up kill a man. so he is mean and violent, even losing his tempers at times, but with Eva he is sweet and gentle. i like him for that. God, i would love to do a character ask with him, he has so much to him that i haven’t written.

Check out my Archive | Masterlist | Main Blog

[spidernerdsblog]

I Forgot That You Existed : Chapter Ten

A/N: Chapter ten is here. Everybody likes a happy ending right? So here it is. Hope you like this chapter. Feedback and suggestions are always welcome.

Pairing : Tom Holland × Singer reader

Summary : It’s been more than five years since you and Tom have gone their own ways after a heartbreaking breakup which had left both of you shattered. Both of you thought that you were finally over with each other and were happy in your respective lives until you meet again at a reunion trip planned by your best friend and you realize you are still not done with each other.

Warnings : 18+, SMUT, mature content

Mini Playlist : This love by Taylor Swift

“Tomorrow is the last day I’ll get to see her and that’s it. She will leave for LA.”

“You did talk to her right?”

“I tried Haz, I tried to talk to her but she isn’t ready to put her walls down.”

“So what are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know Haz, but I know this for sure I’m not giving up on her. Every day, every minute, every second I’ll try.”

“But for how long Tom?”

“It took me six years to realize that she is the one. I’m ready to wait 60 more years trying to make her realize the same.”

“Mate I think you should calm down a bit and have something to eat for now.”

“No Harrison I don’t think I will be able to eat anything I’ll just go to my room and take some rest.” Tom retreated to his room.

Everyone was sitting silently on the couch as you came in panting.

“Where’s he?” you said catching your breath.

“In his room.”

“Oh! I was so worried he didn’t say anything to anyone before leaving.” You said letting out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah he was feeling a little down that’s why he skipped dinner too.”

“What! He barely had anything today. I just saw him running around all day. Now who is acting like a child huh!” you scoffed.

“This man will always be a pain in my ass. I’ll go and see what’s the matter, don’t worry.” You went to the kitchen as you arranged a plate for his dinner simultaneously munching on some blueberries as you were hungry yourself. As you were about to go upstairs Harry stopped you.

“Y/N we need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay go on, I’m listening.”

“It’s about you and Tom.”

“And?”

“We think you should reconsider your decision and sort out whatever is going on between you.”

“There’s nothing to decide over here we are just friends and that is what it will always be.” You said nonchalantly.

“C'mon Y/N can’t you just see how devastated he is. He is trying so hard to bring you back and you are turning a blind eye to him.”

“I can see okay! What do you think I’m having fun refusing him? I’m dying on the inside. But this is what is best for us.” You said agitatedly.

“You are just being stubborn Y/N. You need to come out from the state of denial.”

“Call it what you want that will not change anything.” You shrugged.

“So the plan turned out to be an epic fail?” Paddy blurted out. Harry smacked him at the back of his head.

“Shut up paddy! ”

“Wait! what?? What plan failed?” you asked suspiciously, setting aside the plate on the table.

“Ah it’s nothing Y/N” Harrison stuttered.

“What other motives did you guys have?” you narrowed your eyes.

Everybody looked at different directions awkwardly trying to avoid your stern gaze.

“Harrison??” you asked him sceptically, raising an eyebrow.

“See Y/N it was my idea.Tom is my brother and he went through hell after you guys broke up. We all have seen how miserable he was without you. Though he made us believe that he finally moved on but drunken confessions are never a lie. I couldn’t take it anymore so we thought before it’s too late why not try for the one last time?” Harry explained. You were stunned to hear that. You looked at Zendaya and Harrison as everything was clear to you for why they were so adamant in bringing you here.

“You guys were in this?” Zendaya and Harrison winced, unable to make eye contact with you.

“Unbelievable!” you threw your arms in the air in disbelief.

“I…. I really don’t know what to say.” You pinched the bridge of your nose shaking your head.

“See we thought if you guys spend some time together you would realize your mistakes and patch up.”

“Harry you can’t force two people to be in a relationship.”

“Well you guys have made progress as per I’m told you guys kissed and almost ended up boning.” Harrison pointed out.

“Seriously??” You looked at Zendaya bewildered.

“Hey I didn’t say a word.” Zendaya retorted.

“Tom told me.”

“Yeah of course he did.” You half laughed.

“You didn’t even think about Eleanor for once, that poor girl didn’t deserve any of this.”

“Yes she doesn’t deserve any of this she would have been a mere casualty of the war that is going on between you two that is why we wanted to stop this before things got out of our hands” Sam interrupted.

“I’m so done with you guys. You know what? I’m gonna go and tell all of this to your brother. Let’s see what he thinks about this stupid plan of yours.”

“Can’t believe you guys would stoop so low.” You gritted your teeth stomping off upstairs.

“Tom?” You knocked at his door. Not getting any response you knocked again. There was radio silence you sighed and twisted the door knob.

“Tom I’m coming in if you’re jerking off better stop.” You chuckled. The room was dark as you entered. You switched on the lights to see Tom curled up on the bed, his back facing you.

“I know you are awake” You walked to the other side of the bed, putting down the plate on the bedside table you climbed up sitting next to him resting your back against the headboard.

“You know there is no scientific proof that starving yourself helps you cope with your grief. At least learn from the master.” You snickered looking down at him.

He got up abruptly and snuggled his face in your lap wrapping his arms around your waist. You raise your hands a little as you were a little taken aback at his childish behavior.

“What has gotten into you?” You laughed as you gently stroked his hair with your hand.

“Just don’t go Y/N please.”

“Tom we talked about this.” You said softly.

“No we didn’t everytime I try to talk about it you try to avoid having that conversation.”

“Because there is nothing to talk about. You know this.. We.. This cannot happen.”

“I’m not leaving you unless you talk.” he tightened his grip around you.

“Tomm… Okay let’s talk but first you need to eat something.”

“C'mon get up. Just look at you, go wash your face.” you nudged him a little as he finally got up and went to the bathroom. After he came back he sat beside you.

You took a spoonful of risotto and held it in front of him to feed him.

“Wait. Did you have dinner?” Tom asked.

“No thanks to you I had to rush out from the party. But I had some blueberries though.”

“Oh I’m so sorry Y/N. I didn’t mean to ruin your night”

“Its ok nothing can be better than spending time with you.”

“But you need to have something”

“Okay let’s share then like we did in school” you suggested

 You exhaled deeply after you finished.

“You know those little devil’s pawns down there planned this all out as a last resort to reunite us.” You scowled.

“I’m glad they did.”

“Okay I wasn’t expecting that as an answer.”

“Y/N I don’t know how to prove to you that I’m really sorry. You have all the right to stay angry with me but can you give me another chance to make everything right.”

“Hey I’m not at all angry with you.”

“Then why do you want to leave me again? Y/N I can’t live without you anymore. All these years each day without you felt like a punishment.”

“What do you think it was all so easy for me to stay without you?”

“Then why are you running from it?”

“I don’t know Tom but I’m scared what if I mess up again. I feel this is just a nice dream and once I wake up everything will be as it was.This all seems too good to be true.”

“I know baby. But we can always start over right? Every relationship has its ups and downs. We can’t change the past but the future is in our hands.”

“Nobody is perfect Y/N. Let’s take it slow shall we? It’s just you and me we can make it work. Baby steps.”

“But what about El Tom? I ruined her life” His hand went to cup your face.

“Hey look at me, You. Have. Nothing. to do with what happened between El and me stop blaming yourself. We mutually agreed upon ending our relationship and she’s totally fine with that.”

The air felt heavy in the room, his hot breath fanning your face. Your bodies leaning close as you kissed softly and pressed your foreheads against each other closing your eyes, smiling. You pulled away and sat silently beside each other.

“Okay then goodnight see you in the morning.” You chirped breaking the silence.

“Yeah goodnight.” Tom smiled. You got up to leave as you were about to open the door.

“Y/N wait!” Tom grabbed your hand. You turned your body towards him. He stepped a little closer pushing you back against the door. He placed his hands on both of your sides caging you.

“What’s on your mind Thomas?”

“Nothing, jus.. just you know I was thinking since we decided to go slow I want to make it up to you little by little from this very moment, only if you allow.”

“And how are you planning to do that?” you asked with a glint of mischief in your eyes.

He took both of your hands and kissed your knuckles.He bent down, his lips against your cheek, brushing it lightly and still that light touch sent shivers down your spine, shivers that made your whole body tremble.

“If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he whispered. You didn’t say anything, he brushed his mouth against the hollow of your temple. ‘Or now.’ He traced the line of your cheekbone. ‘Or now.’ His lips were against yours.

‘Or… ’

Heat rose from your stomach to your chest and your heart definitely skipped a beat as Tom’s lips were closing in. The smell of his cologne filled your nostrils to the point of near brain death. He was so close. That was it - at that very moment his lips brushed over yours like a wave of warmth and all your body reacted to him instinctively. Your hand reached his neck and pulled him towards you crashing your lips into his, and the rest of his words were lost against your mouth. You melted in the kiss closing your eyes as you felt his warm mouth against yours. He kissed you gently, carefully, but it wasn’t gentleness you wanted, not now, not after all this time. 

You kissed frantically all the built up sexual tension and mutual pining finally channeling out. Your fingers knotted with his hair as you tugged on to it. He groaned softly, low in his throat,he poked his tongue as you parted your lips. His tongue slipped inside your mouth. He sucked on your bottom lip earning a little moan from you. He smiled in the kiss. His hands were roaming around your back as he fumbled with the zipper of your dress. You pulled away gasping for air.

“Is this okay?” he asked with a raspy voice eyes blown out with lust. You nodded in approval breathlessly. He slowly unzipped your dress and slid down your straps as the dress fell and pooled on your feet revealing your black lacy bra and matching underwear. Tom felt air knocked out of his lungs as he soaked in your image.

“So beautiful” he murmured against your swollen lips. You blushed under his chaste gaze.

And then he was kissing you again. The deep kind of kisses that left little room for thought. There was only feeling and wanting.

He dragged his lips down your chin to your bare neck and brushed his lips over your shoulder leaving a trail of wet kisses along the way.

His hands were on your hips, and he lifted you up as if you were made of air. Your legs wrapped around his waist, as he carried you towards the bed. Your lips remained sealed. It was like you couldn’t get enough of each other. You were devouring one another, drowning in each other.

He gently placed you on the bed and climbed above you whilst taking off his t-shirt revealing his perfect torso. Tom caught you staring.

“Like the view?” He said with a cheeky grin.

“Not that I’m complaining” you said with a sultry look in your eyes.

You ran your hands on his toned abs wrapping your hands around his neck and pulling him down to you locking your lips, legs and hands moving, exploring each other. You whispered his name, and his arms tightened around you, crushing you against his chest and his hands slipped between your legs. You were swimming in raw sensations.It was like you were getting to know each other all over again.

You could feel his obvious bulge on your bare thigh. Tom rubbed his nose on the crook of your neck sucking at your sweet spot.

His hand went to your back unclasping your bra as you slid it through your arms and threw it away. He placed kitten licks on the curve of your breasts eliciting soft moans from your mouth. He licked your buds as they hardened under his touch. He sucked on to your breast, massaging the other with his hand. You were breathless and dazed as he nibbled on them softly, your body ached for more than just kisses and touching—for more of him. And you knew he did, too. His powerful body trembled like yours. It was easy to get lost in him, lost in this connection between you. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him closer, telling him what you wanted with your soft moans.

You felt a tingling sensation between your legs as you bucked your hips to get some sort of friction.

“Don’t worry princess I got you. Tonight is all about you.” he said brushing away your hair from your face.

He placed soft kisses all the way down your midriff. Hooking his fingers to the waistband of your panties he looked at you for permission, you nodded. He pulled them down. He ran a finger through your folds.

“Always so wet for me.” He kissed your inner thighs teasing you as you squirmed. He smirked, hooking his arms on your thighs, spreading your legs. He placed a kiss on your aching core and then licked a long stripe as you took a sharp breath, your body trembling at his touch. He dipped a finger slowly pumping it in and out of you. He sucked on to your clit adding another finger inside you.

“Oh God! This feels good” you moaned.

Your hand gripped on to his hair as he slid a third finger inside you. He groaned face buried in your heat devouring you as if you were his last meal. He increased his speed curling his fingers inside you, your body arched as you felt a coil building up in your stomach, his strong hand keeping you in place. Your body spasmed as your orgasm hit you.

“Tomm…” you whined.

“Yes baby girl what do you need?”

“I need you inside me please.” You extended your arms towards him.

“As you wish darling.” he shimmied out of his shorts and boxers and took out a condom from the night stand and rolled it down. He crawled over you propping himself on his forearms. Tom placed a soft kiss on your forehead. He pumped himself a few times before sliding inside you slowly stretching your walls. You gasped.

“Fuck!! So tight.” He hissed as he bottomed out. He started moving slowly, long drawn thrusts as he laced his fingers with yours. You brushed away his sweaty curls sticking to his forehead as you gazed into his eyes instantly calming you down. Your hips were molded together as you moved against one another. Tom watched you with half hooded eyes at how your mouth slacked open and eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. The room was filled with low grunts and moans.

He picked up his pace hitting your spot, you arched your back in pleasure. Your hands clutched onto his back trying to keep him as much close as possible he groaned as you drew your nails on his back.You writhed beneath him, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You were both so lost in each other, Tom continuously checking in with you, peppering kisses all over your neck and whispering sweet nothings in your ears.

You body tensed up as you clenched around him.

“Tom I’m close” you said breathlessly.

“Yeah that’s it let go darling” he moved his hand to your clit drawing tight circles around which tipped you off the edge. It didn’t take long as you came with a loud moan of his name. His thrusts went sloppier as he reached his own high burying his head in the crook of your neck.

 …………………..

Curtains flying in the gentle sea breeze as the sunlight peeked in through the windows. You were snuggled into Tom’s arms. The sunlight hit your face as you squinted, fluttering your eyes open to see Tom already staring at you with his soft brown eyes. You thought he looked ethereal with his bed hair as the soft sunlight was falling on his face.

“Good morning Princess”

“Morning heartbreak prince.” you chuckled softly.

“How long have you been awake?”

“Like an hour ago.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Tom brushed away your messy hair away from your face.

“Didn’t want to miss watching this angelic face sleeping peacefully. I never thought that I would be able to wake up to this face again in my life.”

“Oh stop it” you lightly slapped his chest. He exhaled.

“Last night…”

“Was awesome?”

“Yeah of course..” He chuckled softly.

“But Y/N I really meant everything whatever I said.”

“I know and I’m ready to give it a go. But have you thought about what to say to the other people down there who by now have got the idea.”

“They saw it coming I guess.” Tom rolled over you smothering you with kisses.

“Oh! Tom stop!!” you squeaked giggling.

“I’m starving” you pouted.

“As you wish darling”

You both got up to freshen up and then went down. You were still in Tom’s tshirt and sweatpants. All eyes were on both of you as you walked down the stairs.

“Why am I not surprised?” Zendaya chuckled ironically.

“Did we travel back in time?” Harry joked.

“Someone had a good night’s sleep.The morning glow is evident” Chloe patted Tom’s back. You both blushed profusely.

“I thought you went to talk.” Harrison quipped.

“Yeah we did talk. It was a really deep and passionate conversation.” You said with a sly grin.

“Okay I’m ignoring the double meaning of that phrase.”

For the rest of the day the boys were nowhere to be seen after breakfast; they just disappeared.

You got a text from Tom in the afternoon.

Hey can you go to my room and check if my wallet is there or not? I don’t have it with me.

Yeah sure.

You went to his room to check. Your eyes fell on a bag lying on the bed. You looked into it, a box. You took it out and opened the lid to find a beautiful floral dress. There was a note for you inside.

For my sunshine. Come to the front porch, a surprise awaits.

You couldn’t help but smile. You didn’t waste a moment and quickly dressed up.

You went to the front porch to find Tom waiting for you. He was wearing a white button up shirt with chinnos. He looked handsome as always. You walked up to him.

“Hey,” you said shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“You look gorgeous, love.”

“Thanks for the compliment and the dress it’s beautiful.”

“Guess my taste isn’t that bad huh?”

“Okay now close your eyes.”

“Okay I think I’m having a déjà vu right now.” You close your eyes as Tom blindfolded your eyes. He then guided you to the surprise location.

“Okay now open your eyes.” he untied the blindfold.

The sun was setting in the horizon you were standing on the seashore as the waves washed your bare feet. The cool water laps at your feet, fizzing and bubbling like brine, the wind caresses your face.

“This looks familiar.” You turned your head towards him. He stood in front of you taking both of your hands in his hands looking directly in your eyes.

“You know when you find someone who gives your life meaning then nothing else in the world matters.”

“I know I have made a lot of mistakes and I want to make it up to you the rest of my life Y/N.”

Tom bent down on his knee as he pulled out a ring and slid it in your ring finger.

“Y/N Y/L/N will you marry me?” you didn’t know how to react. So you did what you were best at making snarky comments.

“Okay now I’m your replacement bride?”

“What!? No!” Tom frowned as he got up.

“Tom we talked about taking it slow and by slow I meant really slow. I just turned 27 and I’m not getting married until I turn 30. I know you are sorry, you want to make it up for me. I totally understand that and it’s really sweet of you but I don’t think I’m ready for a married life yet” you rambled.

Tom caught your lips.

“You never shut up do you?”

“I’m not telling you to marry me right away. I just really wanted to do this to commemorate our love, that I want to spend my life with you. And also a subtle reminder to stop you from flirting with other hot guys.”

“I can’t guarantee you with the last one.” You flashed a cheeky grin. Tom embraced you in a tight hug.

“You really had to ruin the moment though?”

“Well you should have given me a heads-up with your plans.” You joked inspecting the ring.

“Is this real?” Tom rolled his eyes. You started pulling out the ring.

“Hey hey why are you taking it off?”

“Honey papz follows us everywhere we go. After your cancelled wedding news breaks out the media will have a field day I don’t want to add fuel to that by sporting an engagement ring while returning from a vacation with you. Moreover Alex will kill me.”

“Yeah but we are going back tomorrow right? You can keep it on for now.

"Are you love birds done already?” Harry yelled from a distance.

The boys had been busy arranging for a bonfire near the seashore the whole day. Everyone sat circling around the fire. In twilight the beach was tinted sepia, the sand more orange, the water darker, skin soft to the eye. Everyone sat there, just taking in the evening and chatting and laughing music playing in background simultaneously. Waves ahead roar and roll down, crashing onto the shore with a soft hiss.

“Tom really drove us mad today first with the dress then with the ring.” Harrison blew out is cheeks as you laughed.

“Typical Tom” Zendaya snarled.

“Don’t laugh Y/N you have no idea how many shops he made us roam.” Harry huffed.

“I’ll see what you guys do when you have to propose to your girls oh sorry first get a girl” Tom cackled.

“I wasn’t even this picky when I proposed to Elysia, you were just being extra” Sam quipped.

“Because she deserves the best.” Tom pecked your cheek.

“We are really happy for you guys” Chloe chirped.

Tom’s hands were wrapped around you as you smiled at each other.

This Love playing …….

“Shall we?” Tom stood in front of you and extended his arm

“Sure.” You held his hand and got up.

Clear blue water

High tide, came and brought you in

And I could go on and on, on and on

And I will, skies grow darker, currents swept you out again

And you were just gone and gone, gone and gone

He placed his hand on your waist holding your hand on another, you held on to his  shoulder with your hand as you swayed to the music gazing into each other’s eyes. A warmth spreading inside you.

“Thanks for this and everything” you said softly.

“Oh it’s nothing just trying to be a good boyfriend you see.” he shrugged.

“You’re indeed much better than my Ex.”

“Ex? ”

“Oh I had once a fling with this guy with  curly brown hair, honey brown eyes with a wild brow and crooked nose used to be an asshole sometimes but was the sweetest person on earth. But you.. You are far more responsible and mature than that guy and cute too.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah” you shrugged.

In silent screams, and wildest dreams

I never dreamed of this

This love is good

This love is bad

This love is a life back from the dead, oh

These hands had to let it go free

And this love came back to me, oh

Oh, oh

“Thank God you dumped him. That guy was an asshole to let you go. And I’m glad he did or else how would I find you.”

“Lucky you then huh?” you winked.

You slipped your hands to his back, pulled him closer, hugging him and rested your head on his shoulder as you smiled, closing your eyes. His hands rested on your waist as you both swayed to the music. You finally found your safe haven in his arms.

Tossing, turning, struggle through the night for someone new

And I could go on and on, on and on

Lanterns burning, flickered in the mind only you

But you were still gone, gone, gone

Been losing grip, on sinking ships

You showed up, just in time

Tom held your hand and twirled you a couple of times before he pulled you close to him again.

This love is good

This love is bad

This love is a life back from the dead, oh

These hands had to let it go free

And this love came back to me, oh

This love left a permanent mark

This love is glowing in the dark, oh

These hands had to let it go free

And this love came back to me, oh

This love, this love, this love, this love (Oh)

This love, this love, this love, this love (Oh)

This love, this love, this love, this love (Oh)

This love, this love, this love, this love

The boys lit some sky lanterns. Tom took two in his hands and smiled at you. You all flew the lanterns in the sky. You looked up in the sky as the lanterns flew higher and higher.

Your kiss, my cheek

I watched you leave

Your smile, my ghost

I fell to my knees

When you’re young, just to run

But you come back to what you need

Tom was standing behind you as he slipped his hands around your waist. You held on to his hands. He knelt down and kissed you on your cheek.

This love is good

This love is bad

This love is a life back from the dead, oh

These hands had to let it go free

And, this love came back to me, oh

This love that’s a permanent mark

(This love) This love is glowing in the dark, oh

(This love) These hands had to let it go free

(This love) And this love came back to me, oh

This love, this love, this love, this love (Oh)

This love, this love, this love, this love (Oh)

This love, this love, this love, this love (Oh)

This love, this love, this love, this love (This love came back to me, oh)

You turned towards him. Your hands went on to cup his face.

“I love you Tom” Tom was craving to hear those words from you again. His eyes swelled up after finally hearing it from you.

“I love you Y/N” he said pressing his forehead on yours.

You closed the distance kissing him softly.

 ………………………………………

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[laguera25]

An Open Letter to Richard Z. Kruspe on the Occasion of His 54th Birthday

When I was born, ten weeks prematurely and weighing a scant two-and-a-half pounds, the doctors told my parents not to bother naming me, as I would likely die very quickly, and even if I were to survive, I would likely be blind and helpless and profoundly retarded, unaware of, and unable to engage with, the world around me. Best to leave me be and let nature take its course. A few days of benign neglect, and it would all be over. If they were fortunate, there would be other, better children.

Fortunately for me, my parents gave the double-fingered salute to that bit of medical advice and took me home to do the best they could with very little money and no one to guide them through the strange and terrible country of life with a disabled child. I survived because my very country grandmother chucked out the baby formula that I wasn't digesting and fed me the cow's milk the doctors so solemnly swore would kill me.

There was so many milestones I missed, and of which my parents were deprived. I didn't sit up by myself until I was two. I never walked, never ran, though there are a few faded photos of me gamely pulling myself upright on chairs and the edges of coffee tables, trying to do what my brain said I ought, but my body too weak and miswired too obey. No play with other children, who were stronger and more rambunctious and would have bowled me over in all innocence. And as I grew older, no first dates or driving tests or prom dresses. No thought of an independent life.

What there was was endless rounds of physical and occupational therapy. Hours and hours on a brown vinyl mat, trying to lift my leg or raise my ass off the ground or make my hand write the words in my head. Hours and hours putting change into a slot or trying to tie shoelaces or forcing my hands into uncomfortable plastic splints for a chance at a fraction of more bodily control. While my school friends were out playing in the sun, I was inside beneath fluorescent lights, learning to button my shirt and comb my hair and brush my teeth. To hold a pencil. No time for joy, for peace, for figuring out who I was beyond this collection of aches and pains and deficiencies, just the endless tedium of learning to "be normal" and less of an imposition on the world around me.

And I did go to school. Despite the doctors' dire predictions, I was neither blind nor idiot. I was perfectly aware of the world around me, and smart. So much so that when I was nine, the school ordered an intelligence test. The score was so high that they thought it an error and made me take it again in front of witnesses. When the same score came back the second time, they wanted to move me two years ahead, but my mother, afraid it would both isolate me further and give me airs, refused. So, I stayed, face in the mat and hands in splints, learning advanced history and English, yet forced to put blocks into holes and put colored rings on a stick.

And so I lived this strange paradox for my entire childhood, the genius child that my mother crowed about to all her friends and anyone who would listen, and terrible burden who still had the coordination of a toddler, and who had ruined her dreams of ribbons and curls. When I was nine, she was convinced I could be made "normal"--or closer to it--any road, with a surgery. And so, the surgeons detached the muscles and ligaments in my legs from the bones and stretched them in an effort to relieve the spasticity. The surgeons were doing a kindness to relieve pain; by then, the muscles were so tight that when I was stood on my feet and held up, my feet rolled onto the instep and my knees pointed at each other. It was a measure of dignity.

To my mother, it was supposed to be a miracle, the cure that gave her the daughter she deserved.

I woke up screaming. The muscles and ligaments were unhappy with their new positions and weren't afraid to register their protest about this new state of affairs. They tried to administer morphine, but the levels needed to control the pain were dangerously high for a child, and so I was left to ride it out. I screamed and screamed and screamed. For thirteen hours.

My mother. who was so sure she had found her miracle, was taken into another room by an exhausted surgeon who had done the best he could, and told that at most, I might be able to walk across the room on a walker and take myself to the toilet. She screamed, too, then, at this man who had been on his feet for nine hours, trying to undo the mistakes of the hands that had formed me from the dust of the ground, and who would try to make me laugh every day when he came to check my progress. She called him a liar and a bastard and a son of a bitch, and family lore has it that she would have hit him had my father not intervened.

They tried to tell her. Kindly and patiently and incessantly, but she would not listen. God had told her I would be cured, and dammit, I would be. The day they cut my casts off and sent me home, they told her not to push me too hard, that my muscles needed time to adjust and build endurance. She said she understood, but when we got home, she ordered me to walk uphill to the house. I tried, I truly did, but it wasn't long before I hit muscle fatigue and started to cry. I want to stop, wanted my wheelchair.

And my mother, this woman who had once told the doctors who would have let me die to go fuck themselves, picked up a stick and started to beat me. "Be normal! Be normal!" Screaming and sobbing and flailing with this stick, and me screaming and begging and trying to stay upright. I don't know how long she would've kept going, but eventually, my stepfather appeared, wrested the stick away and threatened to beat her with it, and carried me into the house.

Here I must give my mother a sliver of credit even if I will carry the memory of that beating for the rest of my days. She was right, after a fashion. I did do more than walk across the room with a walker and take myself to the toilet. For a while, I even graduated to forearm crutches and quad canes, which might not sound like much, but when you were expected to do nothing, that's like climbing Everest in your underpants. My wheelchair gathered dust for years, but soon I had to choose between the demands of my education and the demands of my body. The latter simply lacked the energy to fuel both my mind and my muscles to the best of my their abilities, and since school was the only area of life in which I had ever excelled, there was no choice at all. Back into the chair I went. By the time I graduated high school, I could no longer use crutches, and by my third year at uni, even the walker was too much. These days, I cannot move myself without help, and arthritis has set in. I made my choice, and now I pay its price.

I tell you all of this to illustrate that whatever the fool doctors might have said as they clucked and tutted over my incubator, I was keenly aware of the world. Of everything I was missing while my mother insisted I just bootstrap myself out of my disability and be normal. Of her seething resentment of all that I was not. Of her wish that I was someone else.

There were two bands that got me through, kept me sane and kept me moving when all I wanted to do was just lie down and not get up. The first was Metallica, whom I discovered at thirteen, and who told me it was all right to be angry about my circumstances, to kick and scream and argue with God and call him a rotten bastard--as long as I kept living, kept getting up in the morning and trying to inch down the road. I didn't have to swallow my anger for fear of upsetting God and hurting my mother's chances of getting into heaven(my mother believes that I am a test she must pass in order to get into heaven; therefore, my suffering is irrelevant and should never be questioned, lest it anger Him. Don't ask; I don't get it.)

If Metallica was the band that gave me permission to be angry as long as I kept trying, it was Rammstein that told me it was okay to want more from life than an endless regimen of therapy and prayer and gratitude to a God that had, or so it seemed to me, sent me into the world with a ramshackle body and precious little armor or defense against the assholery of my fellow human beings and yet still expected me to praise His holy name allelu. To want joy and friends and human contact. To have a libido and ogle whatever flipped my switches. To, in short, be human, and more than just a symbol of all my mother's broken hopes.

I discovered the band through a book, believe it not. I found a copy of Tom Reynolds' <i>Touch Me, I'm Sick</i> in a Barnes and Noble I had gone into to browse and hide from a cataclysmic thunderstorm, and in it, he began to talk about a band called Rammstein and a song called "Heirate Mich." The more I read, the more gloriously improbable it all seemed, and the harder I laughed. By the time I got to the line, "As the music pounds like a collapsing factory...", there were tears streaming down my face, and I was having trouble breathing. The saleslady must've worried I was having a stroke.

And so it was that I found the key to everything that would come after. From the book to my creaking dial-up Internet(don't laugh, it was what I could afford as a broke-ass cripple on the government dole) to the CD shop, where I blew my food budget on Rammstein CDs and lived on Hamburger Helper for weeks. This is a terrible dietary choice, by the way, but at least I had Rammstein music in my ears all day, every day. A few weeks later, I put another dent in my food budget buying all the DVDs. Ah, the vigor and stupidity of youth. If I tried that foolery now, I'd be semiconscious on the floor in a day and a half. Back then, I had a more stalwart constitution.

I knew by the second song I heard that Rammstein was going to be special to me. My German, which consisted of a year of study in high school and a disastrous two years in college, was pretty poor, but thanks to snooping around Internet forums and squinting at grainy videos, I knew much of your catalogue dealt with taboo subjects. I didn't care. For all its dark subject matter, the music made me want to dance. It made me feel something other than apathy and a persistent wish for this whole mess to be over and my soul to be recycled into a body that didn't make me want to scream until I was too tired to do anything but sleep.

And I did dance. Constantly. Seldom in public because dancing in a wheelchair often looks like the Devil is trying to stick his finger up your ass, but often at home, just shimmying away until the chair developed some alarming creaks and the bolts needed adjustment. Rammstein made me happy. It made me curious. It made me want to see just how much was out there.

And, if I am honest, it made me want to see those silver MC Hammer pants for myself. The combination of those pants and the diaper rash cream in your hair was a striking look for you, if I may say so, though perhaps not so grand as the black spikes and the lion pants you wore with such swaggering panache on the Reise, Reise tour. Alas, this was not to be, as I suppose you had wearied of slathering ass cream for infants in your hair. I can't blame you, though I suppose it must've been a sad day, indeed, for the ointment companies. Still, those Hammer pants and their Reynolds Wrap, space-age splendor will always hold a special place in my heart.

Stymied in my hope to witness for myself the wonders of those Hammer pants--and those lion pants as well, as it turned out, oh, unhappy hour, long may they reign in the storage closet--I nonetheless wanted to see a Rammstein show. Not much chance of that, the morose American fans assured me. The band hadn't come here since they foolishly took the American commitment to freedom of expression at face value and Till and Flake landed in the Puritan pokey for playing Loose the Dachshund into the Badger Burrow in front of delighted fans. Besides, the band's management had scant interest in repeating that little experiment.

Even so, I held out hope. I hung out on message boards and kept me ear to the ground. You can imagine my delight when the MSG show was announced. I wasn't so foolish as to think I could attend, mind you; New York might as well have been the moon for someone who cannot safely fly, but it was fun to indulge in a bit of wistful what-if? What if I could find a way to get there that wouldn't give me a lethal clot? What if I could score tickets? What if I could afford a hotel in Manhattan where the rats and roaches wouldn't kill me in my sleep or carry me off to be devoured in the sewer system? These were all very big ifs for someone who lived in the boonies and was only supposed to spend money on medical expenses and basic bills. Besides, MSG was going to sell out before I could gimp my way to the phone.

Knowing all of this, I took to my blog to whine and moan and feel sorry for myself. It wasn't fair, I whinged to the ether. I had wanted to see Rammstein for so long, but it just wasn't possible. It was too expensive and too far and too haaaaard. And woe is me.

And then...

And then...

And then a bossy German lady dropped a punk alarm in my inbox.

I don't remember now how or why she came to my blog. Maybe she was drawn by an unconventional perspective on life and fandom and moving through the world, or maybe she just wanted to snortle at my friend and I's discussions of your sartorial splendor and the ridiculous dramas going on in the Rammstein fandom at the time. Either way, she'd been been watching my sulking and stropping for a few days, until she'd reached her limit and this woman, who had never said an unkind word to me in years, called me a coward. Just straight up said that I could either find my spine, stop pissing and moaning, and try my hardest to see Rammstein in New York, or I could keep being a coward and making excuses. But make my choice and stop sniveling because she was tired of hearing about it.

At first, I was stunned. Of all the things I had ever been called, a coward was not one of them. Then I was mad. How DARE she call me a coward when she had no idea how much pain I was in most of the time or how difficult it was to move around a world that had never been designed for me and been but grudgingly retrofitted by handymen who thought that grab bars fixed everything!

So I stewed and pouted for a few hours, but the longer I thought about it, the more I realized she was right. I hadn't tried very hard to research my options. I hadn't checked hotels or called the venue or gotten my finances in order. I had claimed Rammstein was so important and meaningful to me, but I hadn't shown it. I had assumed defeat before I'd even started the charge up the the hill and wallowed in self-pity. Sure, maybe I was right and I wouldn't be able to go, but I'd never know if I didn't square up and try.

Before I proceed, a word about the tried-and-true deutscher Fuss zum Arsch(not another aside in a letter full of them, I hear you cry as your eyes begin to glaze. I know, Mr. Kruspe, believe me, but if you speak to the world through your guitar strings, I speak through my keystrokes, and so I beg your patience. We're almost there.). If a German you have gotten to know puts their foot up your ass and calls you on your bullshit, they are not doing it to be a prick, and it's not done with the intent to create hard feelings or demolish your self-esteem. It's harsh, man, is it harsh when you're used to American doublespeak and soft-pedaling, but they're doing it because they see something in you and are trying to stop you from making a dumbass or a jackwagon of yourself. They're doing it because they want to keep being your friend.

So.

Punk alarm duly dropped and head dislodged from ass, I started making phone calls. To the banks do get my money in order. To bean counters to make sure I would have access to it. To Amtrak to discuss their booking options. I went to disability websites and forums to discuss precautions to take in case my health or my equipment gave out on the road. The best hospital for the broke-ass should I get mown down by a taxi while trying to cross the road. Emergency numbers and insurance forms and blah blah blah. A raft of bureaucracy and safeguards and double-checking, all for a concert I might not get tickets for.

But I did, because for once, my disability worked in my favor. MSG sold out in twenty-five minutes, but that venue, bless its heart, doesn't put disabled seating up for general sale. You have to call the disabled patron assistance line, and they don't release unsold disabled seats for general sale until three days before a show. So I called the magic line, and a very amiable fellow talked me through the process. Two weeks later, the tickets were in my mailbox.

I am not ashamed to tell you that when I opened the envelope and held the tickets in my hand, I screamed like a debutante that sat on an upturned spoon. It was really happening.

And yes, my German friend gave me a giant "I told you so!" But she was right, and she'd earned it. Besides, she was happy for me, too.

So I did it. I got on a train(where I soon learned that accessible or not, I couldn't use the toilet because the train swayed too much for me to keep my balance), and I went without eating, drinking, or urinating for twenty-two hours(I do not recommend this to anyone, by the by. It hurt, and it was dangerous)to get to New York. And when I got there, I stood in Penn Station and simply stared because I was somewhere I never thought I'd be. It was simultaneously everything I thought it would be and nothing like I'd expected.

There were still obstacles, of course. There always are when you have two hands and four wheels and see the world through asses and elbows. Clutching my luggage while my trusty and ever-present companion pushed me over the cracked sidewalk with one hand and dragged the rest of the luggage behind him. Finding out that the "accessible" hotel room was, in fact, not all that accessible and wrenching my knee every time I used the toilet. Being accosted by my first sidewalk screamer within ten minutes of being in the city. Meeting my first hustler.

Freezing my ass off outside the venue for four hours before the show and called not fan enough by other fans because I didn't do it for fourteen, because hey, if you were really a fan, you'd risk pneumonia to see the show, even if it would kill you. Being shunted and shuffled to four different doors by event staff because no one could agree on where the disabled fans were supposed to enter. Being let into the building to warm up by an MSG employee, only to be booted out by event staff three minutes later. Whee! Aren't the logistics of being disabled fun?

But Mr. Kruspe, it was all worth it. I've never felt an energy like that before. Whatever snitty elitism some of the fans might have been nursing outside, inside MSG, we were all fans, all people who had waited and wished for this for a very long time. The primal roar from the crowd when the band began to break through the wall raised the hairs on my nape, and you'd better believe that I joined them with all of my energy.

From the first note, I forgot my pain. It was still there, mind, waiting for me, black-toothed and patient as the grave, but I was beyond it, in a state of suspended euphoria. No pain, just joy. I watched everything as best I could despite my near-sightedmess and my rather distant seat. I soaked it all in--the music and the unapologetic bombast, and the pageantry of the fire. It was all so starkly, darkly beautiful, and according to my companion, who has all the sentimentality of pavement, when he looked over at me during "Ich Will", I was "radiant." He, who had known me for thirteen years by then, said he'd never seen me like that before, and that he would never forget it.

It was not without price. These things never are. There was another train journey and another twenty-two hours without access to a toilet, and by the time I got home, I was so strung out from lack of food, water, and sleep(because trufax, it is hard to sleep when your bladder is trying to pop out of your skin from the pressure)that I cried like a toddler on the drive home. And then I went home, peed forever, drank, ate, and collapsed for seventeen hours.

But it was worth it. It was so worth it that on the band's next go-round, I took a cross-country roadtrip to Vegas, during which I peed much more often, thank God, but I also fought ants and roaches in a hotel room in Texas and stayed in a room so gross I slept in my clothes and threw them out when I got home. But it, too, was worth it, just as it was worth it to get in the car and drive to Florida and Atlanta on the next tour after that.

I told you ALL of these things, Mr. Kruspe, to tell you this. I saw your interview in that documentary about depression in 2010. I heard you say you felt worthless unless you were creating.

I don't know what you're worth to anyone else, but to me, you are priceless, and always will be. Without you, there would be no Rammstein, and for me, there would have been no reason to try, to spread my wings and take a run at that hill. Without you, I might have given up, might have let my mother win, and maybe now, I'd be sitting in some care home, stewing in my own yellowing stink and getting a bath once a week and a monthly outing and rotting from the inside out. Without you, I might never have taken the chance, never pushed myself.

But you were, and are, and because of that, I did. Because of that, I saw New York, and moved, however briefly, among that anonymous throng. Because of that, I met the sidewalk doomsayer and the exasperated hustler. Because of that, I tried New York Pizza(and yes, I saw a rat, but he minded his business, and I minded mine). Because of you, I heard a Cajun patois in Louisiana and watched out the window of the car as the Texas plains unwound around us. Because of you, I saw the night sky on the outskirts of Vegas and was escorted back to the Strip after the show by two Native dudes who walked far out of their way and called me little sister. These are gifts I got from you because you were, and are, and they have sustained me ever since. They sustain me now that my world has been reduced to the four walls of my house as I ride out the pandemic in a country that believes people like me are an acceptable sacrifice.

I know this won't change things for you, won't quiet that awful voice in your head. Depression doesn't work like that, and even if it did, I am just a stranger you will never meet. But maybe it will give you something to hang on to, something to think about on the bad days. Christ knows you kept my head above the water when all I wanted to do was let it go under.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Kruspe. May it bring you joy and all that you need.

Guera

[rarepoisons]

Hall Monitor

My chair is hot. These cables, this metal. It feels cold in my sockets. I try not to think about it as I work. I have sat in this chair for just about ten years. Sometimes they unplug me to install software updates, but even then I don’t leave this chair. I have an important job.

I know these cameras. They are my eyes. Mall_2 shows nothing out of the ordinary, Parking_Lot_1 sees a few expired tags, Food_Court_5 points me to a group of medium-risk youths. I flag them and move on. After a decade of service I’ve learned to just move on, don’t try for perfection, just finish my rounds and catch it later. This mall has the best loss prevention in the entire New York-Boston sprawl and I’m very proud of that.

Another day goes by without incident. I lock the mall down and I shut myself off for the night.

But I can’t sleep. Sometimes I see people after dark, when no one should be here, and I turn on the lights only to find an empty mall. I see shadows moving inside the stores, hear chatter coming from the restrooms. I know none of it is real. I still have to check.

Tonight, I smell sushi. It’s coming from the restaurant below me. I have never smelled anything at night before, and it bothers me. I toss and turn and eventually give in. I bring myself back online.

Food_Court_4 points at the restaurant. I only see the restaurant’s lowered grate.

Dragon_1 shows me the front of the restaurant. During the day, I’d watch the cashier at work. Database says her name is Ichiko. She started here the same year I did and we’ve both made our work into art, reduced it to only its necessary parts, the smallest possible movements. I admire that about her. But no one stands at the register now, not half past midnight.

My neurons fire off a signal and I switch to Dragon_2, then Dragon_3. I see nothing and nobody. Pots and pans hang by hooks in the steel kitchen, dangling over clean counters. I spot a wad of rice on the floor and I send a bot to sweep it up. A sweeper emerges from a gap at the bottom of the wall and grabs the rice and disappears again.

This blindspot infuriates me. Between Dragon_3 and Dragon_4 there is a corner where I cannot see. It feels like part of my body has been hidden from me. Like the two wings of this mall are my arms and these restaurants and stores and kiosks my organs, my flesh. I still smell sushi. It smells incredible. It cannot be a glitch, not possible—they left my nose organic. They only needed my eyes and a little bit of my brain. I flick between the cameras, searching for an angle on that corner. It must be the source. I look at the reflections in tiles, the steel, but still I am blind. This dark.

This chair, this metal.

It hurts to move. My skin has started to fuse with the leather. I lift myself carefully and wince as I tear away. Ten years—my pension vests in another ten but I have never heard of another hall monitor making it that long. I replaced a 15-year who died in this very chair. It’s an important job. It pays accordingly. When I fully separate, I feel fresh air blowing underneath my legs and my back, a strange sensation, and I gently turn and hang my feet over the side.

The floor. It is the coldest thing I have ever felt.

I surprise myself. I stand under my own power and it takes some time for my balance to return. I put my hands out and find the wall and look for the door. The smell of sushi grows stronger. I think of Ichiko, her efficiency and technique. I imagine she went home at the end of every day, but she still achieved such skill. Her commitment inspired me for years. She certainly has no idea I exist. I stumble into the hallway.

That cannot be me. That man with cords dangling from his face, dragging behind him—that unusual body, kept viable by cocktails of vitamins and stimulants. The human-adjacent man moves as I move, steps as I step. I watch him from Admin_4 and my name floats over his head as if he is me. He ambles down the hall and I switch to Admin_3 to keep him in my sight.

He makes it to the public area. I turn on the floodlights in his path. I root for him; I struggle for him. My knees want to give out but I resist and push through the suffering. My muscles scream at me to stop.

What did I look like before? What color were my eyes?

He passes into the view of Food_Court_4. I override the security system and command the restaurant grate to lift. I can see his back now, the black ports and rods along his spine and neck, and I reach to touch them. They are sharp.

Dragon_1. He finds the counter. He rounds it and stands where Ichiko stands, imagines taking orders and accepting payments. I wonder if she had a family. Children. Hobbies. She lived within my world for half the day and then she went somewhere else. Dragon_2. He enters the kitchen and leans over the grill, the silver tables, pulls himself along. Dragon_3. He puts both hands on the wall and there it is, that corner, my blindspot. I cannot see it. I alternate cameras again and it stays out of sight. But now I’m there—he’s there. Now I have another way.

The cables come out easily. I unplug them from my sockets and my feeds disappear one by one. I lose the west wing and then the atrium and then the staff areas. The east wing begins to fade, cameras drop from view, flickering and finally dying. I lose the food court. I lose all but Dragon_3. All but this man, my body.

I extend my arms and walk towards the corner. The smell is overwhelming. It is delicious. Yes, this must be it. I have an important job and it must be done and I must find the source. I am the best hall monitor in America and I will protect my body. I slip away. I exit to the right and Dragon_3 sputters and goes dark.

I enter the world where I have no control. An empty world with no man, no mall, no eyes. She is in this world, somewhere. I take a deep breath and say her name: Ichiko. It gives me courage.

I take another step.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

My Pleasure (One Shot)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Warnings:getting choked in my sleep because someone could not take the slow burn anymore

Word Count: All this time I cannot believe I have been falling for the trap of my own thoughts of not being productive for my future when encouraging others to take it easy as productivity is not a norm you need to fulfill in this quarantine. AND I’M nOT eVEn in quaRatINE!!! Relax woman! We will do another degree! But stop killing yourself over and over again by thinking about it!!!

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"You know it wouldn't hurt your legs and arms to help me out with breakfast!" You looked up and out of the window and sigh. The clock screaming nine am did not help at all when you groan at the start of your day. "I have to study, mom," you growl to yourself, trying to get back into the zone and complete this one chapter you've been putting off because of all the chores around the house. "Y/N!" The pencil was about to snap when you slammed your books and notebooks close and packed them up. The steam was already packing inside your head when you came out of your room with your bag slung over your shoulder, ready to walk out of the house with no eye contact whatsoever.

"Hey, Hippie Hippo, come for breakfast," Don called out as he switched off his PlayStation to do the tiresome job of walking ten feet to the breakfast table. You were already walking past him to the front door. "Oh my God, he just said something. Don't ignore him like that, you moron," Randy yelled from the breakfast table. "Not having breakfast, you moron. I gotta study!" You replied, trying to control your temper as much as you could. "Hey! Stop talking like that to your brother," the mother called out, her voice laced with no love at all. "He is not my brother," you announced before clicking the door open only to have it shut back by the figure standing in front of you. Those menacing eyes only reminded you of all the moments as a child when you were never given what you wanted. "You will do as your mother says." Your chest started to feel heavy; your breaths shallow and your pulse quite prominent inside your head. "No." You shook your head with tears in your eyes. "I won't. I don't want to. I don't want to do any of this. I just want to get out of this hell hole." The man took a step towards you and you flinched. "Is that how you talk to your father you ungrateful child?!" "I bet it's because of those boys she keeps hanging out with," the mother hisses from the table. "Become a rotten child as she's growing up. You will do as you are told and nothing more, missy." The scream leaving you was inhuman. The tears are hotter than the fires of hell. Years and years of pent up emotions just trying to find a way out. For a moment there it felt like you could blow this place apart but the second your lungs gave up, you opened the door and ran. You ran out into the grey corridor and kept running till you found the elevator. The war inside your head was too much to bear for this little heart. But you still tried to breathe life back into you and darted across the lounge and towards the dorms, not stopping till you made it safely to the familiar room; your room. The sight of your things helped bring your swirling thoughts to a standstill- enough to let your brain command your legs to walk towards the bathroom, click the door open, turn the shower on and sit down in the shower space with your knees as close to your chest. The years came down easily. The faucet had been opened and there wasn't much that could stop it till it got tired or your eyes ran out of water. Sometimes the smallest of inconveniences and the smallest of negligence worked like the perfect crack to bring down the entire dam. Years and years of love lost to reasons you did not know seemed to wash down with the mirk into the drain. The life built around you feeling like a hollow act put up without your knowledge. The sandcastles built near the sea washed away with one eventful tide. And here you were, sitting in a corner with swollen eyes under the cold shower crumpled up, not knowing what to do with your life. The click is loud enough for your ears to know someone has entered the space. The tap of the glass to make way for someone makes your hair rise on your shoulders. You don't want anyone in your vicinity right now. That's what your mind screams internally but the moment cold fingers move your hair strands away from your face, the rage melts away and a want starts to build up in your heart. Your blurry eyes looked up at your company and the green eyes sang back to you with emotions that swirled the perfect way with your internal whirlpools. Your head is already leaning into the cold touch of Loki's palm, wanting to stay there forever, take as much time for this heart to heal. "My whole life was a lie," you whimper into his hand; to which he turns to you, soaking with water as much as you, cupping your face and gently stroking your cheek. "And it's not your fault." "Then why do they make it seem like that?!" "Hey hey hey," he shushed you, bringing you closer to his chest, your flushed face feeling the relief of that icy chest. "We don't get to choose our first family, love," he declared softly, "but we do get to choose our second, our third, our final families." His fingers drove away those stubborn strands from the other side, letting the cold touch caressed your jaw till your breaths calmed down and your heartbeat came back to its steady. "We get to choose who we love." The sudden shiver inside your chest felt dream-like; your soul feeling the flutter down to its very existence. And with that mellifluous call, you looked up at that dense forest of eyes hiding all the untouched and untethered love for someone. In that passing second, it felt like fate dancing around you, singing a tune that struck the right strings in your heart, taking you with it into a trance you did not want to get out of. So, you let your hand ground itself on that chiselled cheek to draw it closer and kiss those inviting lips. It is wrong on so many levels in your head. But then again, your head never gave you a day's rest to think straight. Your heart, on the other hand, blossoming to its full, about to burst with a whole multicolour light show of emotions. It was an internal war between keeping your eyes shut to let this moment last for eternity and opening them to know if Loki felt the same way. Your fear of having fears won over the need to escape and your eyes opened to know the reality however it came. Those dense forests in Loki's eyes that had seemed enchanting a few seconds ago were now fully blown out, experiencing a blackout. That black hole grew bigger with the dawn of a new feeling and no more minute was wasted to bring those wanting lips back onto your intense one. Hot hands met the brisk neck and cold ones wrapped themselves around the scalding waist hungry for a taste of a foreign skin. The shower water rained down on the hyped-up bodies wanting to feel as much of the other under those clothes stuck to them as a tongue stuck on an icicle- uncomfortable for both. And so the need for more brought out the grunting urge to rip away Loki's buttoned shirt while he did away with your grey tee without any remorse. Oh, the smooth crash of skin on skin! The brush of his lips on your neck while your hands went down to his pants to undo the belt. "Y/N," you heard him breathe between the sweet bites he was leaving on your shoulder. "Yes," you barely breathed out the word as a prayer for more. So. Much. More. "Y/N," he called out your name again, making your core twist and turn in anticipation as his tongue traced a path up to your neck. "Oh Gods, Loki," you moaned. "Y/N." His voice came with a jerk to your shoulders, forcing you to open your eyes from that delicately delicious dance to find yourself in your bed with Loki, Scott and Vision hovering over you; concern painted on their face right and left. "Aaah," a throaty wail left your lungs before your dry throat started coughing and brought your duvet up till your neck. "What the h-ack, ahem, what the hell are you guys doing?!" Your wreck of heartbeat was beating one anxious beat in your ear, not wanting to meet the eyes that you had just dreamed about. Ah, fuck me! "What?" Loki asked, confused, dropping that fear bomb once again inside you. Can he read my thoughts? "What?" you reflected back, blinking with an IQ of a dumb fish. "You were screaming in your dream," Scott finally added, bringing his hand to your head to check your temperature, "we got worried." "Were you having a bad dream?" Vision asked with the curiosity of a researcher looking at his lab mouse. "Bad dream? Oh, yeah, it did start as one," you whispered to yourself. "Were there ghosts? Or zombies" Scott asked. "Were there aliens?" Vision wondered, bending a little closer. "Stop it, you two," Loki announced, his arms crossed across his chest as he stood at the foot of your bed, "you are making it hard for her." Title of your sex tape. A gasp left your lungs. Title of our sex tape! And with that very thought, your eyes met his, pausing your breaths to bring out an incoherent squirming noise while the duvet slowly travelled up your chest to your neck and then your jaw. "Why is she screaming like a mouse?" Vision looked at Scott. "Oh, honey, you are hot. Loki, help her out." The squirming increased in amplitude.  "What is wrong with her? Y/N, are you having difficulty functioning properly?" You shook your head to get all those images out of your horny brain. "She's fine. I think she's still trying to come to reality," Scott explained with not much confidence. You winced and felt yourself drawing back into your sheets. "How about you turn yourself on and off again?" Vision advised with pure innocence in his eyes. "What?! Vision?!" "What? You tell me to do that when I seem to be overloaded or stimulated the wrong way." "Please don't use the word stimulated." "Alright, everyone! Out! Now!" Loki's declaration made you jump where you lay while the other two quietly walked out of the room. "Finally," you could hear Scott say under his breath as he took one last look form the edge of your door and smiled a mischievous smile. Loki turned back to you, inhaling a lungful.  Oh no. "Tell me what happened." For that soft request, you would have given your heart to your new friend any other day. But today it was a nightmare. Your heart wanted to come out of your mouth, take your face and slap it hard. "Tell me, or I will see for it myself with magic," he mentioned casually. "I had a nightmare," you blurted out. "It's fine. It's over." Loki waited for a few seconds before sitting down by the edge, at a considerable distance from you. Oh, God. Oh my God. "I had a dream about my...not so biological parents? It was nothing. I was...having some sort of flashback. Some really not so happy flashback." You looked down at the duvet while your head hung on your knees. It was not asked for but a pale hand came into view with a glass of water. Taking the glass in your hands, the brush of his cold fingers brought back the wet dream like a rush of ocean waves hitting your straight around your legs to push you back till your butt made an impact with the sand. "Oh fuck me," you whispered under you breathe while going for a swig of that water again. "Thanks-" you looked at Loki with gratitude- "for the water." Giving you your favourite smirk, he got to go out of your room. "My pleasure," he stated, stopping to turn around by the door and give you a quirky brow, "and you are welcome for the water."

...yeah your heart just died.

[tsukishima44]

Morning Revelation

WARNING! IMPLIED SEXUAL CONTENT

Xichen now began to worry. His heart thumped quickly inside its cage. If he ever did something that inflicted pain to his lover, even in a daze, he didn't think he could forgive himself.

However before he could dwell on longer, his lover put a stop to it.

"No no no. Not at all. You begin to moan, A-Huan"

"oh"

"Loudly"

"OH"

When he was awake, he was startled by the harsh amount of light upon his eyelids. A bit disoriented, Xichen groaned and flipped to his right side where he knew a wall stood. His movement was halted, gasped, as sparks of pain lightened up in his lower half. It, fortunately, kicked his mind to start recounting what happened last night. 

Was he out to a night hunt? No, he was supposed to but Sect Leader Jiang, his secret lover, had came for a business and took an early leave from Yungmeng to spend at least the night together. 

Did they....do something? 

Xichen remembered the tea they shared at night. The scent of lotus seed made into tea and it's warmth and-

"A-Huan, are you sure?"

His cheeks reddening as scene after scene came into his mind. His lovers naked body for once on top of him, the lust pooling in his stomach, sweats and oil slickened their intimacy. Fingers carefully mapping his chest and lower parts and-and-

"Feels so good" he muttered breathlessly.

Last night, Xichen braved himself to ask for a switch in position. His lover has always looked delighted after their coupling night and Xichen wandered whether he could feel the same. 

Like soaring into heaven, he saw white clouded his vision when Wanyin stopped teasing him and finally inserted a finger inside him. 

After that, Xichen lose consciousness. 

He only could feel good and loved. He trusted Wanyin to keep him safe and secure in his arms and he did. 

There was no oil residue or any liquid dripping anywhere. Their robes which flung around was gone. Only Xichen completely blanketed left slumbering into the morning. 

If he could borrow Young Master Wei's word..

"Last night was fucking amazing"

A startled gasp from the entrance snapped his attention to the intruder. 

"Did the esteemed Zewu-Jun swear or is it just a hallucination?"

His intruder was clad in regal purple robes of Yunmneng Jiang Sect. Jiang Wanyin's long hair was in its usual braid and rolled into a bun by his purple ribbon. 

"A-Cheng!"

"Good morning, A-Huan"

His lover slid the door close behind him, stopping the impending outdoor light from coming in.

Jiang Cheng placed a bowl of porridge on his lap after he helped Xichen sat into a more comfortable position. Then he left to made a pot of tea and placed it as well on the floor beside the bed. 

"How is you body? Is there any discomfort?"

His lover asked, his right hand cupped his left cheek tenderly. 

"It is only a dull pain but everything is okay. You take care of me so well"

Xichen was pleased to see the blush brushing across his lover's cheeks. 

Jiang Cheng cleared his throat.

"You have taken care of me before, of course I would do the same..as your lover"

Xichen hummed in reply, leaning more into Jiang Cheng's hand. Jiang Cheng pampered him with thumb caresses lovingly. His smile widen in reply.

Jiang Cheng took the porridge from his lap in turn for a cup of lukewarm tea. Xichen thanked him and sipped slowly. He gave back the cup and Jiang Cheng took a portion of the bed to sit beside him.

"Xichen, really, how is your body?"

Jiang Cheng asked him full of concern. His purple eyes staring deeply into his blue ones. Xichen wanted to erase every hint of worry.

"I am fine, A-Cheng. I cannot feel my lower half but I am sure it is fine. There is no discomfort at all after your-"

Xichen couldn't help the blush rising his cheeks again. Honestly last night was just amazing and he hoped Jiang Cheng would be alright to do it again this night.

To his suprise, Jiang Cheng sported the same red splotches in his own face. 

"A-Anyways" Jiang Cheng changed their topic to end their tooth-rooting moment "it...would be wise if we don't meet anyone soon"

Xichen was confused by this.

"Why?" 

"Do you remember everything last night?"

"Half of it. Only until your finger.." 

Xichen trailed off, the blush came back in full force. He would be exploded if he were told to recount anything..or everything until his lost to pleasure.

Beside him Jiang Cheng groaned. 

"What is it? Did something happen?"

He carefully asked. 

Did Wangji gotten hurt? 

A night hunt went wrong? 

Intruder?

"Before you ask, wipe everything off your mind. It was none of those. It's-" Jiang Cheng choked "It's your voice"

Xichen blinked at him. 

"My...voice?"

The Yunmeng Sect Leader nodded.

"Your voice. After my finger" he too blushed "-you kind of snapped"

"What do you mean? Did I hurt you or something when I lost conscious?"

Xichen now began to worry. His heart thumped quickly inside its cage. If he ever did something that inflicted pain to his lover, even in a daze, he didn't think he could forgive himself. 

However before he could dwell on longer, his lover put a stop to it.

"No no no. Not at all. You begin to moan, A-Huan"

"oh"

"Loudly"

"OH"

"Your...lower part are very sensitive apparently, you wouldn't let go of my fingers. Only when I mentioned..another thing..inside..would you finally relaxed. When I...put it in, you screamed"

Xichen's brain was fried. His whole head was on fire. 

"I screamed?"

He seemed to like repeating words today.

"Yes. Very loud that your disciples worried you were attacked. Let's just say they were....traumatized now"

If there was a hole, Xichen would very much love to be inside it and buried inside. Maybe he should think about another seclusion.

"This morning, my brother laughed and yours glared at me"

"Oh no"

"Your uncle went into infirmary last night"

"OH NO"

Xichen's mind went into a flurry of panic. What should he do? His uncle and brother knew! His disciples saw! How was he supposed to face them again!?

Jiang Cheng instead laughed out loud.

"Come on, Huan. Your brother and mine can show up each morning after their 'everyday'. Surely you too can"

Xichen thought so but this was them. A sect leader scandal with another sect leader? Their news would spread easily like a fire on hays. 

Jiang Cheng sighed.

"If you are really worried, we can always do it only in Yunmeng Jiang"

Xichen couldn't keep his smile from coming to surface. His lover was really afraid he would go back to seclusion because their intimacy night became known to their families. Wanyin even offered to whisk Xichen off to Lotus Pier for it. 

He shook his head.

"I am sure the news would pass"

Jiang Cheng's smile was rewarding for him. 

"Okay"

His purple haired lover replied while tucking a stray of hair behind his ear. 

Xichen was really blessed to have this relationship with Sect Leader Jiang. 

"Oh, A-Cheng?"

"Yes?"

"Do you mind if we do it more frequently? With you inside me?"

Xichen laughed when Jiang Cheng chocked the air he gulped. However the answer was, of course, a yes.

[slasherholic]

Synopsis: Michael wants to keep you all to himself tonight.

I guess this is like... angst that dribbles into fluff? Kind of? Again I’m SORRY. This was the only satisfying way my brain could find to make this work.

Bundled | Michael Myers x Reader

You stride briskly from the kitchen, the heel of your boots clicking and clacking over the hard-wood flooring, your eyes fixed on the door ahead of you and your hands wound so tightly around the straps of your book-bag that they shine a ghostly pale color in the dim evening light.

Michael is following you.

No, you decide, not following. That doesn’t do it justice. Following is too passive of a word, too tame. What Michael is doing—what he has been doing, right from the moment he noticed you fussing over your choice of outfit in the mirror, and that was nearly an hour ago—is stalking. 

Your fate was sealed from the moment you caught his gaze in the mirror; it was steadfast. Penetrative. Wolfish. It made your heart sink like a stone to the pit of your stomach. You knew that stare well. And you felt the unsaid message that it carried, words that needn’t be spoken. Three damning words, searing through your brain on repeat, over and over and over again.

You’re not leaving, said Michael’s stare.

You could have given up then and there. You could have let the furious, burning tears of frustration that were welling in your eyes spill over. You could have put your outfit back in the closet and packed away your book-bag and sunken down on your bed and waited for Michael to grow bored and do whatever it was that he felt like doing tonight, and then maybe you could at the very least get some sleep, because you all of a sudden felt very drained of energy.

Instead you had done exactly the opposite; you finished getting ready. Michael watched from opposite the room as you went about your business. When you descended the stairs, walked calmly into the kitchen as if nothing was the matter, Michael followed—but not immediately. A few minutes passed without incident. You prepared dinner. Pulled out a stool at the kitchen counter to eat. 

And when you risked a glance out past the kitchen, into the dimness and shadows that had settled like a blanket over the staircase with the setting of the sun... there he was. At the bottom of the steps he stood, a looming figure, still as a statue. Still as a panther.

You sat down facing the wall so that you didn’t have to look at him.

And now your class is in twenty minutes and you are heading for the front door like nothing is wrong. You think about seeing your friend. You think about the assignments that were due today. You try, unsuccessfully, to think about everything and anything other than how closely Michael’s footsteps are trailing behind you, and about how eerily steady they are, and how infuriatingly unhurried they are—as if he knows that he will catch you. 

And what’s even more infuriating—you know that he will, too. 

His stride is longer than yours. Larger by far. He’s already closing the distance; and by the time you have dug in your bag and found the key to the door he will be upon you. You wipe the back of your hand across your face because the burning tears that are springing up in your eyes are becoming very distracting, very inconvenient. 

You stop just in front of the door. You unzip your bag with clammy fingers and you think about your grades. You think about how nice the evening class will be. It’s a subject that you enjoy. It probably won’t even feel like a class. Your scrabbling fingers close around the keys.

And Michael’s strong arms close around your waist.

Within a split-second your composure shatters like a dropped glass into a million irreparable pieces. The tears come streaking hot and heavy down your face and you do not try to stop them. Michael drags you back down the hall. You fight him like a crazed animal. You thrash in his arms. Kick at him. Pry at his hands. 

When Michael reaches the staircase, when he seizes your legs together and hoists you clean off your feet and slings you over his shoulder as if you are nothing more than a trophy, nothing more than captured prey, that is when reality finally hits like a punch to the gut. 

You are not going to class tonight. You never were. This evening, your body belongs entirely to Michael. You are his entertainment. His property.

And it was incredibly, pathetically stupid of you to think otherwise, you berate yourself.

Michael carries you back to your bedroom. Still you fight him. You cannot bring yourself to stop struggling even now, even despite the futility of it all, because the thought of going limp and allowing him to have his way makes you want to tear your own skin off. To surrender now would feel like a vicious betrayal of all your efforts in the hour past. No; you have chosen to fight him. And fight you will.

Michael approaches the bed. You wait to be shoved down face-first into the mattress. You wait for your world to go dark.

It never happens. 

The bed dips, and Michael sits down. Perhaps he has other things on his mind tonight; so then, you wait for his fingers to wind through your hair, wait to be shoved down to your knees, down to the cold, unforgiving floor.

It never happens. 

He tugs you into his lap. Settles you on the bed, between his legs. His arms snake down to criss-cross over your chest and he captures your lashing wrists in a grasp that is unshakably firm, but not exactly painful, not like it could easily be if such a thing were his goal. 

Still you thrash in his grip, throwing your entire body violently from side to side and writhing like a cornered animal. Such a statement is not far from the truth—Michael has you trapped. Locked in his arms. Pinned so tightly against his solid chest that you can feel the steady thrum of his powerful heart against your back, a rhythmic, constant pressure.

Thump thump.

Thump thump.

Goes Michael’s heart. Its pace never rises even as you squirm and flail and wait for something to happen; but the tense minutes tick by, and still you are left waiting.

Michael doesn’t seem fazed by your wriggling. Neither does he make any effort to stop it. Maybe because he knows it’s useless; or maybe because he simply wants to feel you struggle.

Then—

Michael brings his free hand to your neck. His calloused fingers graze your skin and you inhale sharply—an involuntary reaction. A deeply-ingrained one. Soon enough, those dangerous fingers will clamp shut around your airway; and when that happens you will be grateful for having drawn a breath.

His hot thumb buries itself under your jaw, at the base of your neck. He applies light pressure, and you grit your teeth, but the pain you are steeling yourself for never arrives. 

The rest of Michael’s fingers fan out around your neck—and your pounding heart leaps into your throat—but still, his touch against your skin is featherlight. Nearly non-existent. 

Miraculously, as Michael holds your throat, you find yourself neither choking nor sputtering desperately for air.

You cautiously let the breath tumble from your mouth. Your heart has elevated to a frantic flutter in your ribs. The pressure of Michael’s thumb against your jaw seems to increase slightly—a brief reaction, but one that carries undeniable weight. A light-switch flips on in your head. Oh. Oh.

Michael is feeling your pulse.

You take a risk.

“Michael.” Your voice is a frail whisper, hoarse and raw. 

“Please. Please just let me go. If I go now I can still make it...”

The words are pointless; and yet you say them anyway, because now that your struggles have been reduced to useless squirming the only outlet for your frustrations is through your mouth, your tongue, your words. 

Michael spares you no reaction. You say nothing more after that. 

Many minutes pass; the sun has vanished. Your hopes of making it to class have faded with it, and you have gone limp and docile in Michael’s arms, but his grip on your body has not loosened. Has not relaxed even by an inch. You know without having to glance up at his face that he is still watching you. Watching you and breathing. His breathing is impossible to ignore; it is your only source of stimulation. 

Michael’s breaths come in a pattern. He inhales—his broad chest expands, pressing your bodies even closer together, squeezing you tighter against his chest, against his forearms. He lets the air sit in his lungs; then he lets it go again. The heat of each exhale falls on the back of your neck like a puff of steam. It tickles. You give a sniffle. Your face is raw and red now from the tears, and still they come, but in a trickle, not a stream.

The turn of Autumn has restored the bitter chill to the shortening nights. The cold sweeps in through your open window and it nips at your reddened cheeks, but Michael’s body radiates warmth. His arms envelope you like a snug blanket, and buried as you are against his chest you could not possibly be cold even if you were trying.

Alright, admits a reluctant voice in your head, this isn’t so bad.

And although you know that it is foolish—very, very foolish, bordering even on delusional—you cannot help but feel secure in Michael’s arms. Not safe; god no. Not with his fingers still resting against your throat; and yet, some primitive part of your brain, the part that recognizes the strength of the body locked around yours, the part that recognizes Michael’s touch simply as human touch and nothing more, that part of you desperately yearns for the inadvertent affection to continue. 

And to top it all off; gradually, during the sluggish minutes that you have been trapped against him, an amusing thought has dawned on you:

It’s almost like Michael is cuddling you.

You know he doesn’t mean it like that. The arms around your waist and chest are there only to to restrain you. To control you. To own you. You know that. 

But you can pretend otherwise. You can shut your eyes and tilt your head back into the crook of his neck and let your own breaths fall against his skin in solidarity, and that might make the fantasy more real, more tangible. So you do exactly that.

You press your lips to the portion of his clavicle that peeks out from beneath his shirt. Here, Michael’s skin burns beneath yours. His messy curls brush against your cheek, the aroma of soap still clinging to his hair. You inhale languidly. You almost crack a smile as you recall how you were able to coax him into the shower last night. You are proud of that. 

When you crane your neck to look Michael in the eyes you are not surprised to see him staring down at you, studying your reactions impassively. His hand is still around your wrists. It is not exactly uncomfortable—still, you tug at it gently, experimentally, pleading up at him with your eyes to be released, because you want to wrap your arms around him. 

Michael refuses to budge. Just to be stubborn. Just because he doesn’t feel like it. Just because. 

Oh well. At least you tried.

You nestle your face into his neck again. Your eyes flutter. You listen to his heart.

Thump thump.

Thump thump.

Thump thump.

It is a comforting sound. And Michael is so wonderfully warm beneath your cheek. And his arms are perfectly snug around your chest. And regardless of the circumstances, Michael is holding you. He is sharing his heat with you. Sharing his breath. Sharing the very heartbeat in his chest.

And clearly, he isn’t letting go any time soon.

[capricornus-rex]

The Haunt of Redemption (4)

Sequel to: A Path I Can’t Follow

Chapter 4: Incoming! | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: It has been months since your last encounter with Cal, at that time he was a fledgling Inquisitor. In an ironic twist of fate, you cross paths and blades with him once again, and he’s keen on turning you into an Inquisitor as well—unless you bring him back to the light first.

Tags: Dark Side! Cal Kestis, Inquisitor! Cal Kestis, Redemption Arc! Cal Kestis

Also posted in AO3

Chapters: 1 - 2 | Previous: Chapter 3 | Next: Chapter 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

His holotable beeped, signaling an incoming message.

“Admiral?” he greeted when he answered the call.

“Sir, the transport containing the suspect has arrived. Shall I call an escort for you?”

“No need. I’ll be on my way.”

“Very good, sir. Transmission out.”

He strode through the hallways, Stormtroopers stiffened their backs until they’re erect at the presence of the Eleventh Brother, commanding officers curtly saluted when he passed them by, and he blatantly ignored the Fifth Brother and Eighth Sister in his periphery.

He arrived at the interrogation block and entered the cell where they’re keeping the captive.

It was Boss Lora.

Cal stood by the Stormtrooper and demanded the details.

“Lora Argul, proprietor of the Yewa Docking Bay & Inn,”

“And where is this docking bay located?”

The Stormtrooper glanced at his datapad, “In Hoga, sir. That’s in Cameegon,”

Cal repeated the planet’s name in a questioning tone.

“A temperate planet in the Daoro System, Jama Sector,”

“Daoro? Then it’s an Outer Rim planet,” the young Inquisitor pointed out, he stepped closer to the adult woman strapped to the interrogation machine. “Don’t bother struggling, it’s not like we’re going to set you free anytime soon.”

“Please, I don’t have anything to do with you! I’m just a business owner!”

“Oh, I know,” Cal cooed emotionlessly. “But I think you know something that I need. You might know somebody I’m looking for.”

“I don’t know anybody! My customers come and go, I only have my family!”

Lora tirelessly pleaded to Cal—it’s the same words in different order, but the same idea all in all. The young Inquisitor watched the prisoner wriggle in the torture machine, begging without a pause, until she succumbed to her tears.

Cal walked closer to Lora, a colorful woven bracelet stood out from the drab of her dark brown work clothes. He reaches for the bracelet and now his Force ability comes in play.

“Look what I made you, Mama!”

“Oh, how beautiful! Thank you, sweetheart!”

“Here, I’ll help you wear it. Do you like it?”

“I love it! I’ll always wear it so everyone can see.”

He saw the bright-eyed girl that is her daughter. The warmth of the child’s love radiated all over this woman’s being. His Psychometry allowed him to “borrow” such emotions, thoughts, and images for a period of time; he has done so to his multiple captives on their various campaigns ever since he was induced into the Inquisitorius.

Yes, he thought as he found her weakness.

“You have a very kind daughter. Kaleen, isn’t it?”

“How did you know her name?!” Lora roared.

She knew she never said anything, she only thought of her child when Cal started to enter her mind using his powers. It was something she has never seen or experienced before—and it terrified her. The wild, out-of-pace beating of her heart throbbed through her chest, any moment now she might feel it burst through.

“Oh, I should remember to apologize to your daughter personally. The little brawl in your cantina must have given her a big scare—with what her papa unconscious and her mother taken away right in front of her very eyes. Who knows what that little girl is thinking right now.”

Lora tugged herself from her restraints as far as she could until she’s eye-to-eye with Cal.

“You do so much as touch the tip of a hair strand from my daughter, I swear I will kill you!”

Cal smirked albeit concealed by his mask, satisfied that he had provoked the woman, he kept the bait hanging right in front of her until she tells him what they want to hear.

He consciously avoided the question, “You are going to tell me where you’ve seen the fugitives.”

“What fugitives?”

“You will tell me,” the smirk seemingly lost its amusement, Cal stepped closer and clutched the woman by the wrist as he demanded. “Where she is.”

At that exact moment, Lora suddenly felt like someone or something was tearing her brain open while fully conscious—the pain was excruciating, albeit the absence of the high-voltage shocks of the actual machine; Cal’s grip grew tighter, nearly barring the circulation to her hand, the next thing in Lora’s mind was you. She never intended to think or speak of you in front of this fearsome, young man—to her, it just happened.

There…! Cal celebrated sooner than he could wait.

The memory that played was your first time in the docking bay, her very first interaction with you, Lora still had that stingy tone when speaking to you. The image of you examining the ship she asked you to fix as an entrance trial and smiling back at her with a smug confidence played behind Cal’s eyes.

“Well now, I gotta say your work is impressive, kid!”

“When do I start, boss?”

There.

Your smile. Your laugh.

Even the faintest melody of your laugh came through for him.

For one, his heart skipped a beat—he saw the length of your hair has changed but your smile remained the same.

“Please…! Enough!” Lora sputtered out crying.

Cal jerked his hand away and turned around abruptly.

“Prepare my ship!” the boy Inquisitor commanded.

“Right away, sir!” a lower-ranking officer promptly replied and went ahead for the task.

“Bu-But, sir,” the admiral stuttered, hoping that it doesn’t offend the Eleventh Brother to stop him in his tracks. “What about the prisoner?”

“I leave it to you then, Admiral.”

The Eleventh Brother marched to the hangar, flanking him were two TIE pilots. Upon his arrival, the technicians have just finished recalibrating the TIE Fighters as well as his ship: a TIE Interceptor that he personally modified to his liking. The technician unclamped the docking boot of the Interceptor while his co-workers did the same for the two other Fighters.

“I want transports each carrying assault units and a squad of fighters deployed en route to Cameegon with me.”

“Yes sir, understood!” the attending officer’s heels clicked and marched to the hangar’s command center with an urgency.

The young Inquisitor climbed into the cockpit, the glass dome slid shut with the touch of a button. His fingers follow an invisible yet learned pattern of switches and buttons. There was an indescribable feeling that he cannot pinpoint with a single word, perhaps the closest being “elated.”

The TIEs’ engines hummed in a collective baritone, lights on the screen flickered to life, the ships hovered and then zoomed past the ray shield of the hangar.

—–

Meanwhile, back in Cameegon, you’ve been training in the forest for the rest of your day-off. You were out of breath, but the clean air from the trees refreshed your lungs as you inhaled and then exhaled. This expansive stretch of land has become your own haven—it’s where you mostly do your Jedi training and meditation, it took a long while for you to get used to doing them alone.

BD-1 may have kept you company while you spend your time in the woods, but it was different having someone actually with you, though you didn’t want to offend the little one so you always kept him close to you.

“Alright, BD, toss me another!”

The little white droid—perched upon a tree branch a few paces in front of you—trilled and threw the whole, rotten fruit in its claw—that you’ve installed yourself some time ago—and you went charging towards it; when the distance was enough, your heels sprang from the carpet of leaves and you somersaulted in the air, severing the target in half in the process and then landing back on the balls of your feet.

BD cheered for you in high-pitched whistles and song-like trills, followed by another string of conversational tones.

“Really? Should I have jumped a bit earlier?”

“Trill, chirp!”

“Hah, well, I really can’t tell if it’s by the second, little guy! Maybe I could borrow your scanners next time,” you joked.

The droid replied with a nervous trill, but you knew that he was only playing along.

“How’s the claw? You getting used to it or should I modify it some more?”

“Boo…” BD’s singular scope-like scanner examined the external appendage. “Woop!”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do later,”

You beckoned the little droid to come to you, it activated its little turbojets on its feet and then willingly clambered on your shoulder. You continued on with your training, cutting down the training dummies that you made out of logs and leaves—your own regimen consisted of combining new moves with learned ones, last-minute improvisations if the need arises, and inventing more styles which is a hybrid of both old and new. You liked the adrenaline pumping in you when using the environment against your “enemies.”

Afterwards, you’re traversing the terrain, knowing the twists and turns of the forest like the back of your hand—a result worth of seven months’ progress. The path that you followed was one of your personal favorites—it was still an obstacle course, but you cut through and traversed it effortlessly. You decided to banter with your little droid friend while you trekked uphill.

“Hanging in there, BD?”

“Woop! Bee-woop.”

“Oh, you think so? I sounded like him for a moment there?”

You gave a weak chuckle in response to your exploration droid’s comment. Next, it gave out a somewhat apologetic tone, to your surprise you asked him why he was sounding like that.

“No need to apologize, buddy. It’s okay, don’t worry.”

“Woo!”

“Heh, you sure perk up quick!”

You’re almost to the top. The end of the hill’s path wasn’t the real summit—at least for you. You scaled the rock face of the waterfall nearby, there were enough rocks sticking on the wall to serve as handholds and footholds. It was a quick climb to get to the top of the waterfalls, only then, you’ve really seen the true expanse of Cameegon. The sight of the lower jungle and the river delta connecting to the sea was breathtaking.

How I wish you’re here to see it. You muttered under your breath, dedicating it to Cal.

The entire view took off a heavy load from your chest. Simply look at it warranted a smile from you and a look of wonderment as if seeing it for the very first time.

“So pretty, isn’t it, BD?”

“Woo-boop!”

You patted the little droid’s head as the two of you gazed upon the majesty of the unspoiled part of the planet.

Over time, you’ve grown to love this planet because of the solitude that the trees have given you, it was your secondary comfort next to the company of your family, the Mantis crew.

Your sightseeing was disturbed when you heard machinery humming—the noise got louder by the second—and then three black ships come speeding past your view. Your eyebrows furrowed, something about them tells you that this is not your regular merchant convoy.

Their flight direction came from the east and they’re heading westward. Your eyes squinted in suspicion—you peered through your binoculars, zooming in by turning the knob resting by your thumb, until you got a better look of the silhouettes. Your lips parted open.

“Oh no…” you shuddered.

Without a second’s notice, you kicked the coil of rope sitting by the edge of the waterfall and rappelled down. You started bolting through the path in the forest, while running you try to reach Cere’s signal from the Mantis—but the wildlife was so dense that it interfered with the clarity of the signal.

“Cere! Can you hear me?! Cere, come in!”

A garbled radio frequency was your only response, but your feet kept running—it’s as if it was moving on its own—and made your way back to the ship.

The thought of the settlement suddenly entered your mind, but logically, the town is much farther from your training course in the forest—you’ll never make it in time even if you drive with your speeder’s top speed. In the middle of your combined panic and contemplation, you stumbled upon a detour and realized it too late.

You look around and find that there are no familiar landmarks around the area.

You’re lost and alone among the trees, accompanied by the chittering of unseen animals, and the apparent presence of the Empire… or the Inquisitors.