#its nice to be able to swim around and not worry about oxygen

[gikairan]

ooooooooo Genshins new underwater exploration feels goooooooood

[britishassistant]

The multiple Yuus' suffering won't end yet.

I feel like Villain! Yuu and Villainous Paranoiac! Yuu are similar personality-wise but do you mind switching them too?

I can imagine them sleeping with one eye open in their new world, cuz they don't trust anyone.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

You cover your nose and mouth to muffle your breathing as best you can.

Costumed adults run past your hiding place, crouched behind a series of pipes. They’re boiling hot, feeling like they could burn through your thin pajama sleeves even though you’re trying to keep your distance from them while staying concealed.

“Princess? Oh, little Princess? Come out, come out, wherever you are~” The voice of the older woman who tried to kill you when you woke up croons. You can see her shadow on the wall next to you.

Your lip curls involuntarily at the nickname, and you hunch down further into yourself.

“Are you sure we wanna do this?” The other man asks. “If the Night Raven finds out about this...”

“He won’t.” The woman snaps. “Not if we do this properly. That pampered little brat needs to die. If it’s another one of those annoying alternate versions, killing this one means there’ll be no way for our version to switch back here. If it’s a de-aged version, then even better. Either way, we’ll finally be free of that weak, pathetic pushover of an employer. Now go check over there!”

“R-right!”

You watch as their shadows move across the wall, until they vanish as their owners exit through the doors on the other side of the room.

You bite the skin on the side of your thumb. You thought this place was where that...reporter version of you came from, and that you were in the lair of one of the seven supervillains you met before, but everything you’ve seen and heard so far runs counter to that hypothesis. None of them were using the whole clockwork and steam motif that this place is decorated with, and the way those...minions? were talking, it sounds like a version of you is the one running this place.

And not very well, judging by the employee dissatisfaction.

You want to just curl up and stay hidden behind these pipes forever, but the longer you stay here, the more likely it is you’ll be cornered with no chance to run. Plus the heat’s making your head spin, and you know with your luck you’ll end up burning yourself. Better to get out now while the getting’s good.

You slip out, and go through the door that the two minions came from, peeking around to make sure the coast is clear before darting for the next bit of cover. You wish not for the first time you had shoes to muffle the sound of your bare feet against the rough floor.

You need to find an exit, get out of here as fast as you can. But if you can’t find a way to distract the minions, how long will it be until they just follow you to wherever you try to take sanctuary, just like the Scarabia students did back over winter break?

You’re in an even worse spot that you were then. At least then, you had Grim with you.

Here? You’re all alone. Defenseless.

Your right ankle twinges again, making you stumble and clip a bunch of nearby boxes. You frantically need to spread your arms to catch the boxes so the crash of them falling over doesn’t alert any of the security.

And injured. Can’t forget your overblot injuries.

You’re already panting after running for only a few minutes, your lungs burning in your chest. Nurse Kamac told you you’d find physical exertion much harder now, but it’s one thing to hear it and another thing entirely to feel how much effort it takes to do things you used to be able to do with ease, how much your body protests against the one advantage you used to have, how much more useless you are now.

You slump at a corner, sweat beading on your brow. Your vision is swimming, and your knees feel unsteady under you.

Something liquid and hot is sliding down your collarbone. You think your throat is bleeding again.

“Kreek?”

You yelp, tripping over your own feet at the sound, hitting the ground with a hard thud. You whip your head around to find the source of the noise.

There is a huge crow perched on a pipe above you.

It’s massive. Are birds allowed to get that big?

It tilts its head at you, before taking off from its perch and fluttering down to land next to you, hopping a few steps closer.

“H-hey, nice birdie...” You rasp. Then, recalling something the minions said earlier, you venture, “...Are you the Night Raven?”

There’s a moment of silence.

Then the crow erupts into a raucous, croaking squawks that sound suspiciously like laughter.

You purse your lips, running a hand through your sweaty bangs. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. It’s not like I’ve been sent to a whole other world again or anything, and whoever this ‘Night Raven’ is seems to be the only thing between me and those guys who think killing me will ensure some supervillain also ends up dead. Because of course they do, that’s just how my life is, it’s not like I don’t already know my birth was enough of a mistake. Ugh.”

You drop you head onto your knees and squeeze your eyes shut tight. You’re tired. You’re sore.

You just wanna wake up back in your bed at Ramshackle with Grim cuddled up next to you, muttering about tuna, and have all of this be some horrible nightmare.

You flail at the feeling of a series of sharp pinches on your good shoulder and a heavy, warm weight unbalancing you. “Hey, what the—!”

The crow croaks at you from its new perch on your shoulder, looking both mildly annoyed and unphased by your floundering. You jerk as it’s wickedly sharp beak darts forward and—!

Closes around a section of your mussed up bangs?

The bird pulls your hair back into place as best it can, tugging hard on your scalp as it repeats the process until it’s satisfied you’ve been groomed enough.

It is one of the weirdest experiences you’ve ever undergone. And you’ve played in a Heartslaybul crocket match.

The crow pushes off your shoulder, smacking you in the face with one of it’s wings in the process. It lands on another set of pipes some distance away and turns back to look at you. It caws in a distinctly impatient tone when you don’t immediately follow it.

You weigh your options. On the one hand, it could be leading you into a trap, and you’ll end up dead, though that doesn’t explain why it would try to groom you. You also don’t know your way around this place, and ignoring the bird could lead to it making even more noise as it attempts to get your attention again, which would alert your pursuers and get you killed even faster.

“So I’m following birds now. It’s official. I’ve finally lost it.” You mutter to yourself, pushing yourself shakily to your feet, and counting yourself lucky your vision only goes fuzzy once when you’re upright.

The crow guides you through the...lair is the only word suitable for it. It has a knack for landing on areas that will allow you to take some cover should some of the minions looking for you pass by, hissing whenever it wants you to stay put, and giving that same impatient caw once it’s time to move on again.

It’d be nice if that system could be foolproof.

Unfortunately, as you’re running past a doorway that you thought was clear, you hear a cry of, “HERE! THEY'RE HERE!! THE IMPOSTER IS OVER HERE!!”

You curse, and make yourself run faster, trying to ignore how it pulls the ridged scars along your left thigh and hip and your sudden shortness of breath. You can’t afford to acknowledge that right now, especially when you yelp as actual gunfire erupts behind you and real, genuine bullets whiz past your head to embed themselves in the stacked boxes near you.

The crow has the same idea, taking off to fly just ahead of you, soaring into the faces of any minions who try to cut off the path it’s leading you down with sharp talons and beak at the ready.

You follow it to a huge room, slamming the large double doors shut behind you.

You shove back against them as the doors jump when your pursuers collide with it. Your breath is coming in harsh pants as you fumble with the bolt and padlock, barely clicking it shut before the entrance is forced open.

You stumble away, blindly colliding with a desk and hitting the floor as you desperately and feebly try to suck in air that your lungs can’t seem to inhale, your breaths getting shallower and and more panicked as your vision fuzzes out again. You can’t breathe, you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe—

A loud cry erupts above you, and you faintly see dark shapes descend down on you, feeling dozens of sharp pinches on your upper body, the force of what feels like dozens of dozens of wings dragging your upper body up and back until you’re leaning upright against something and there’s a monumental. warm, fluffy weight against your chest, alternating between getting heavier and lighter, forcing it to expand and contract in intervals of four seconds under it.

It takes a while, but eventually, your hyperventilating finally, finally stops, as you carefully and slowly suck in grateful lungfuls of oxygen and your eyesight gradually returns.

Then you have to blink hard.

You are covered in what you think Epel would describe as a metric fuckton of birds.

They’re all staring at you, some of them picking at your pajamas, others making a caw-like noise that can only be best described as a worried peep.

You lift a hesitant hand to try and maybe shoo some of them off, only for your heart to melt as one of them honest-to-Seven nudges into your palm, like it wants you to pet it or something.

You wonder if the supervillain version of you trained them to do this. If so, at least they did one thing right, because Great Seven this is adorable.

The monsterous crow who led you here lands next to you, squawking and flapping its wings indignantly. The black birds gradually hop off you at this display, much to your subtle disappointment.

“Alright, alright, I’m up.” You grumble, shakily pulling yourself to your feet. “Now what Crow?”

The leader of the birds lands on top of the desk you hit earlier, tapping on some sheets of paper with its beak. You pull them towards you, trying to puzzle out what you’re seeing. It looks like some kind of...schematic? For a water-powered machine that seems to be the power source of a death ray or something. What’s most interesting though is the part of the plans with a section labelled ‘self destruct’ near the top of the construction.

“Okay, so this going boom would make for a good distraction so I could escape.” You chew at your nail. “But now I’ve got to find where it is so I can do that...”

The crow pecks at your other hand. When you pull it away, it shoots you an unimpressed glare and turns around.

You lift your head and follow where it’s looking.

There, along the back wall of this huge room, sits an absolute behemoth of metal and glass surrounded by scaffolding, a huge clear water tank like the one in the plans already filled to the brim and gurgling with movement.

Oh.

You purse your lips at the Crow, which is still shooting you an unimpressed glare. “In my defense, I was kind of having too much trouble trying to keep those guys out, and then breathing to really notice...that.”

It laughs at you again.

There’s a percussive boom from the doors, all the birds taking off and circling with warning squawks.

You push off of the desk as you dash towards the machine, trying to ignore how you want to flinch as several more booms follow the first one. You grab the scaffolding and frantically pull yourself up, trying to climb as fast as you can. If you can just reach the top before they break through—!

There’s an ear-splitting explosion as the doors fly open.

“THERE! THERE THEY ARE!! STOP THEM!!”

You shriek as the gunfire starts again, the need to climb, to get away warring with the instinct to try curling up as small as you can so you’re less of a target.

Your footing slips when you jump to grab the last ledge, leaving you to desperately grab onto the scaffolding with your bad arm. You whimper at how the rounded scars on your shoulder scream in protest at taking almost all your weight, the blackened bite mark on your elbow throbbing with pain like a second heartbeat.

You feel a flare of agony in your right thigh that makes you almost lose your grip. You whine through your teeth as you grab onto the metal and heave yourself up and over, rolling away from the ledge and curling up so your attackers can’t hit you.

“Cease fire! Cease fire you idiots! You’ll break the tank!!”

It takes you a second to realize that you’re curled around the circular podium where the schematics said the self-destruct button was mounted.

“Come down, Princess!” The older woman’s voice floats up to you. “You don’t know what you’re doing up there, do you? There’s nowhere left for you to run. Just be a good little nepotist and come face your fate with some dignity. I swear to you it’ll be quick.”

You grit your teeth as you haul yourself up. “Fat chance.”

You can see her at the head of the pack now, scoffing as her face twists with hate. “Typical. Bloody typical isn’t it? Even the other version of you was an ungrateful little shit, but at least it knew when to keep its head down and listen to its betters. It’s galling to be demoted to working under an imposter, a fake human like that thing!! Spending all its time with birds and playing around with those stupid civilians, hah! You’re no better than an animal! Just a dumb little pet that the Night Raven thought would be funny to give a title and call his ‘heir’!! A disgrace to the pursuit of villainy and evil!!”

“Are you sure about that?”

You take far too much delight in the way she pales as she sees your hand hovering over the self-destruct button.

“H-hold on princess,” She babbles, reaching a futile hand up. “W-we can talk about this, just don’t—”

“Shut. Up.” You growl. “If you wanted a heroic little fairytale princess to terrorize, you picked the worst person you could.”

“‘Cause me? I’m the damn wicked witch.”

You slam you fist down on the button.

There’s a wailing of alarms as the structure below you shakes. Tons upon tons of water bursts out of the machine.

The woman can’t even scream as the flood swallows her.

The crows caw wildly above your head, and you tear your eyes away to see the largest one leading the flock in flapping around a ladder leading to a hatch in the roof. You stagger over to it, your hands almost slipping off the metal rungs several times.

You push hard on the metal hatch and breath in the cold, dry air of the outside, the rough stony roof feeling like it’s cutting into your feet. You can still hear the alarms blaring as you close the hatch again after the last of the birds have flown out.

You’re tired. So tired. Your eyesight is going blurry again and the right leg of your pajamas feels uncomfortably wet, giving off little pulses of agony that has you whimpering.

“Hey, Crow?” Your voice sounds very far away. “I think I’mma pass out now.”

The world tilts sideways before everything goes black.

[megan-is-mia]

I need to tell you that you’ve managed to become one of my favorite twst writers in the span of a single evening. I spent the majority of last night reading all of your twst content. As a monster lover, I feel obligated to say thank you for all of the food. There is a fair amount of monster f*cker content in the twst fandom, but most blogs only have a small handful of monster stories. So when I saw the amount of monster content on your blog, I almost wept.

If you’re still taking requests from the monster prompt, how about 21 “Taking you away from the human world was the only way to save you" with the Mer-trio?

(Wow... I did not realize people considered any of my content to be monster-fucker food. Anyways you wrote Mo21 in your request but the prompt you typed was for Mo20 so I did that one. Hopefully you still like it!) 20. “Taking you away from the human world was the only way to save you” (Yandere! Octavinelle Trio x Fem! S/o)

Stormy nights were (Y/n)’s favorite kind of nights, nothing beat being wrapped up in a warm blanket, looking out her window at the rain falling and the occasional flashes of lightning that lit up the skies. The only thing that could even begin to compare to the wonder of stormy nights were the mornings that followed them, when the earth was still wet from the rain and the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. 

You were sure to find something interesting outside after a storm. However, what (Y/n) found in her pool that following morning more than exceeded her expectations of something interesting. The winds from the storm had dropped debris into her pool making it look more like a sliver of ocean than part of suburbia. She began clearing the tree branches and other chunks of flora when something in the water grabbed her leg. A less brave soul would have called an exterminator or animal control at this point but (Y/n) did not, instead she retreated inside for the time being to start thinking up a plan of action. It wasn’t until night had fallen that she approached the pool again this time armed with a broom and a bag of fish she’d bought at the store the day of the storm. She tentatively poked the water with the broom and nothing happened. Then suddenly a webbed hand darted out of the water and yanked on the broom making (Y/n) drop the fish she was holding into the water as she tumbled into the pool with a gasp. As she sank under the surface she locked eyes with something that flashed her a toothy grin before it grabbed her and swam to the surface with her in its clutches. As she broke the surface of the water she was able to see there were at least two things in the water with her.

“Nee Jade the fish the human brought with her taste awful” the thing not holding (Y/n) said with a whine as it bit off the head of one a fish and swallowed it whole without chewing any further. The girl looked frantically between the two creatures trying to make sure she wasn’t just seeing double in the darkness. Nope, there really were two of them yet they looked eerily similar like twins. “Ehhh Floyd, if they taste so bad why are you still eating them?” the thing holding (Y/n) answered with a tilt of its head as its ear fins twitched with curiosity. The girl had to assume that Jade and Floyd must be the creatures’ names, not yet processing the information that there were literal talking fish-people in her pool. That knowledge would take a few more moments to sink in, at which point (Y/n) let out another gasp.   

“You?! You can talk?!” (Y/n) said her words spluttering out like water out of a clogged faucet. Her sudden words drew a laugh from both mermen and Floyd swam closer as he took another big bite of the fish he’d been chewing on. “Of course we talk shrimpy, what did you expect silly?” he said with a toothy grin even wider than the one Jade had given her when she’d been sinking down to the bottom of the pool. “Give her a little credit, Azul did give her quite a scare earlier when she was trying to remove the gunk and almost forced him out of hiding. I don’t think intelligent life was exactly what she was expecting to find after that” Jade said, his tone a mix of condescension and comforting as he hugged (Y/n) closer to his body. The girl’s mind was ready to short-circuit as a third voice joined the conversation. “I only did that so she’d stop digging around while other humans might be around to get involved” this third voice, the aforementioned Azul she guessed, said with only its head poking out of the water and no visible ear fins to be seen. However when (Y/n) looked down she could see masses of tentacles below Azul as well as the long eel-like tails that made up the bottom halves of both Floyd and Jade’s bodies. “I don’t feel so good” (Y/n) mumbled right before blacking out and going limp in Jade’s arms. When she came too she was lying on her side out of the pool with an eel-merman staring at her impatiently. It took her a moment to identify which one it was by which side his black hair streak fell and she finally said “Floyd?” to which the eel-mer grinned and nodded his head at her as she sat up. “Yep that's me Shrimpy, you gave us all a real scare by passing out like that” Floyd said his tone playfully accusing as (Y/n)’s eyes darted down to check if she’d really seen what she thought she’d seen. Yup, the young man still had an eel tail instead of legs and she hadn’t just imagined all of it. “Heeey my eyes are up here Shrimpy” Floyd said with a pout grabbing (Y/n)’s chin and forcing her to make eye-contact with him. “Sorry! I’m still getting used to the whole, merfolk are real, thing. I just wanted to see if you really did have a tail or not” (Y/n) said not liking the way Floyd’s nails pressed her skin making it clear he could crush her jaw like a grape if he put any pressure on his grip. Luckily her words brought a laugh from the eel-merman and he released her jaw before hauling himself up out of the water to sit next to her. “Wanna feel?” Floyd said, gesturing to himself with a grin. Tentatively (Y/n) nodded as she reached over and gently ran a finger down his tail. “Aww Shrimpy I barely felt that, do it again and put a little more elbow grease into it” the eel-mer said with a whine as he grabbed the girl’s wrist and placed her hand flat against his body. Obediently (Y/n) ran her hand down the male’s skin feeling the slightly slimy yet smooth quality of his tail under her fingertips. “You two look like you’re getting along nicely” Azul commented, swimming over to the pair and surprising (Y/n) out of the stupor she’d fallen under from petting the eel-mer so she almost tumbled back into the pool. The girl only just barely kept her balance this time to the amusement of both mermen. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you…” Azul trailed off, waiting for the young woman to provide her name. “(Y/n), I’m (Y/n)” (Y/n) said quickly. “I know this is an insensitive question but how’d you end up in my pool? I mean I’ve had a few crocodiles thrown in my pool by a particularly bad storm once or twice. That's what I thought I was dealing with before when I brought the fish. Just a few crocodiles, not three mermen and… I’m rambling sorry… This is just weird as hell for me” the girl said looking sheepishly off to the side. “Don’t worry this is an odd situation for us as well” Jade said having swum back over to the group partway through (Y/n)’s rant. “We’re not in the habit of showing up in random human pools, somebody just made a mistake with his potion mixing and accidentally summoned a tsunami that dropped us off here” the eel-mermaid added giving Azul a bit of side-eye, to which the octo-mer grumbled under his breath and pouted. “Regardless we’re kind of stuck here unless we can get the ingredients to make another potion to take us home or we get some outside help to transport us back to the beach and to the ocean” Jade said giving (Y/n) a meaningful look. The girl’s face scrunched up in thought, she didn't know these young men very well and she wasn’t sure she could trust them as far as she could throw them (which wouldn't be far). However, her sense of morality overcame her fear of strangers and she let out a reluctant sigh before speaking. “I’ll help you get back to the sea, I have a car but I don't know if you’ll all fit in it comfortably” (Y/n) said slowly, hoping that her offer might be turned down but that was wishful thinking. The mermen were all more than willing to risk the discomfort of being in her car in exchange for getting home faster. Somehow (Y/n) managed to get all of them into her car (though Floyd was purposely wriggly as a fish on a hook as she tried to set him on the backseat of her car) and began driving out of her quiet neighborhood towards the nearest patch of ocean. During the drive Azul told her about their underwater home, with the occasional comment from the twins, and she had to admit it sounded nice living in the Coral Sea. Eventually, she found a quiet spot of sand by the sea and parked the car before helping the boys out and back into the water. Floyd and Jade went easily enough but Azul seemed to need more help and (Y/n) found herself in waist-deep water before she knew what was happening. All of a sudden the octo-mer’s tentacles were laced around her legs and she was being dragged under as Azul shot forward into deeper water where the eels waited. “Sorry about this Angelfish. I would have preferred that you came to us of your own free will but we just couldn't wait anymore” Azul said, keeping a firm grip on (Y/n) with his tentacles as he swam towards Floyd and Jade who both grinned upon seeing that the octo-mer had been successful in grabbing the girl. Instinctively (Y/n) had tried to hold her breath when she was pulled under only to pass out from oxygen deprivation and wake up breathing water. “What do you think of your new gills? Pretty nice aren’t they?” Azul crooned, his tentacles still wrapped around (Y/n)’s body and tightening when she tried to struggle free of his hold. “Ah, ah, aw Angelfish there’s no need to fight I’m not gonna hurt you” the octopus-merman said in a gently scolding tone before raising his voice to alert the eels that (Y/n) had finally woken up. “Shrimpy’s gills are so cute! I almost wanna pull them and see if she screams” Floyd said excitedly pinching one of the delicate, lacey gill slits that now occupied (Y/n)’s neck. The girl let out a yelp of pain which brought out a laugh from the cruel eel-mer. “Now, now Floyd we can’t go pulling (Y/n)’s gills willy-nilly. Not unless she misbehaves that is” Jade commented running a finger along the other side of the girl’s neck feeling her gills for himself. “We’ve all had our eye on you for a while now Angelfish” Azul said bringing (Y/n)’s attention back on him again as he leaned in to kiss her softly. The feeling of the tweels’ hands over her gills ready to choke her, was the only thing that kept (Y/n) from fighting the kiss from the octo-mer. “The human world… it's just too harsh a place for a sweetheart like you. Taking you away from the human world was the only way to save you” Azul added after a moment. “Plus the fact you’re really cute” Floyd added before smashing his mouth against (Y/n) and biting her lips as he kissed her hungrily. The girl whimpered into his mouth but her protests were all muffled by his tongue against hers until he finally pulled away grinning. “You probably won't see things our way at first but you will” Jade commented before he went in for a kiss softer than his twin’s but still rougher than the octopus’s. “After all we’ll have all the time in the world to change your mind…” THE END

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Trieste Venture (End) - S Nami Bolg

In this entry, the MC sings a song that is commonly heard in Russia around Christmas time though it’s not necessarily a Christmas Song.

"We actually survived." Lu Mingfei gasped. "I thought several times that I should start chanting poems."

Chu Zihang was next to you, checking your blood pressure. You were still far too weak to participate in the conversation. Or even get annoyed at Mingfei again. All your strength reserves were completely exhausted. Caesar was strapped into his seat but still out cold.

So he prattled on. "I used to read a book and said that Japanese generals would recite a death poem when they died." He rolled his eyes up to the sky. "What is "Heaven" There must be light at the end, and the clouds and mists are scattered. There is only a bright moon in the heart. Forty-nine years of prosperity, a dream, a wine cup in the first phase of glory, and what else is there? When I wake up, I will go to sleep", he recited. "I thought that was particularly sensational."

　　"It wasn't that they started chanting just before they died," Chu Zihang said. "In fact, most Japanese military commanders have a mediocre level of education. They used to find someone who could write poetry to do it well, and they just chanted before they died. "

　　"That’s what I said. What if I only say 'Heroes forgive me, there are no poems left?’"

Chu Zihang let the air out of the blood pressure cuff and held up his blade. "I need to check your blood. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." You turn away but can help but flinch when the blade scores your skin.

What comes out is a mixture of crimson and inky black ooze. It seemed to be a fifty fifty ratio. 

"Is it bad?"

"It's not good. If you use Blood Rage again there's no saving you. I'll have to kill you."

"Thanks."

Chu Zihang suddenly stared at you, unsure of what you're thanking him for. If he asked, you're not sure you could answer.

"I feel dizzy."

"We're low on oxygen… but also Something else survived," Chu Zihang said.

You looked at the screen, thousands of black shadows were floating up from the bottom of the sea at high speed, gathering together like black vortexes. The group of mermaid hybrids, the last group who escaped from Takamagahara, was exceptionally large; they were not affected by the nuclear explosion. A huge figure appeared in the black whirlpool formed by the mermaid group. Every time it swept the sea with its long tail, it was accompanied by countless undercurrents and countless whirlpools. The mermaids floated around it, because when the thing was swimming, an upward high-speed current was formed around it, just like fish schools like to migrate with giant whales sometimes. The fastest were already approaching the Trieste, and under the spotlight, their ice crystal-like tusks reflected dazzling light.

"Do you still want to chant poems now?" Chu Zihang asked.

"Like a hero!" Lu Mingfei sobbed.

The depth is about 3,000 meters, and when the inertia brought by the nuclear explosion shock wave is exhausted, they will have no way to accelerate.

Chu Zihang might be able to release Royal Fire again, but the submersible could not withstand the impact. The outer shell was making a frightening tearing sound, and the resin porthole was deforming at a speed visible to the naked eye. Royal Fire and the nuclear explosion shock wave caused irreversible damage to the shell of the deep submersible, so it would be nice if they could float to the surface in this way. The remaining hope is the safety rope. You're just waiting for Chisei's safety rope to pull.

"I seem to hear the sound of cracking eggs." Lu Mingfei whispered.

"This is our shell cracking." Chu Zihang said.

It did sound like the sound of an eggshell breaking, and the cracks slowly extended on the surface. The sound of metal tearing and curling was sickening, and it was followed by a "pop", and then the sound of fluid surging.

"It is leaking, but the water has not intruded into the cockpit." Chu Zihang said, "Trieste has a double metal shell, with light kerosene between the two layers. Now the shell is perforated and the kerosene is leaking."

"Hey Sumeru! Sumeru! Hurry! We need the support of a safety cable!" Chu Zihang yelled.

"They're not answering." You whisper. You're feeling sleepy. At any moment, your eyes will close and you won't open them again. Exhausted from the fight, Blood Rage and the serum, the lack of oxygen won't allow you to regain strength.

The Trieste stopped ascending, and now it was surrounded by a group of mermaids.

The behemoth floated in the observation window. It was a black dragon swinging its long tail in the sea. That was the thing that was struggling in the crack in the seabed just now. At the last moment it finally broke through the seabed and escaped. Its golden pupils are like giant candles, and its decayed body is draped with ancient armor. The armor is connected by layers of bronze chains. Between the bare ribs, swimming in the abdominal cavity, were a swarm of ghost tooth dragon vipers! It turns out that the body of this thing is the nest of the ghost tooth dragon viper. As if thousands of lights were lit at the same moment, the eyes of the sleeping fish all awoke. Endless numbers press to chew their way into the cockpit. The king of these mutants opens its mouth in a silent roar, and his teeth are as transparent as crystal.

To your oxygen starved brain, the lights of their eyes and the silvery flashing of scales and teeth become mixed with the dreamy memory of Christmas lights and falling snow.  You suddenly feel warm inside and smile. It was irritating, but Racoon Boy is right. You really want to sing right now.

S Nami Bolg, ‘God is With Us’ was that old Christmas song, a triumphant challenge to opponents. The lyrics said that if they so much as dared come against them, they would be met with a resounding defeat. But it was easy for children to learn, because all they needed to know were the words “God is With Us” to sing along after every verse.

In your mind, as you sing the lyrics in the mix of a voice and a hoarse whisper, you can hear the voices of your friends, older and younger, singing with you as you stare into the eyes of the decayed dragon without a trace of fear. You can almost feel Renata standing beside you. She always had a sweet voice and you worked to match the way hers sounded in your mind. You imagine her glancing at you with her coquettish, mischievous manner. Your attempts to match hers weren’t a challenge but what was friendship without at least a little rivalry?

So your voice grows stronger with hers trembling in the soprano range.

“God is with us! Understand this, O nations, and submit yourselves! Hear this, even to the farthest bounds of the earth. For God is With us… God is with us…”

Chu Zihang sat back in his seat with a soft sigh. By the third lyric, he could mouth the words, God is with us, in Russian.

The dragon slowly opened its ribs as to though answer this challenge, and the ghost tooth dragon vipers leaped out of their nest. They pounced on the Trieste. It was like the sound of millions of silkworms chewing on mulberry leaves, violently biting. Outside, the portholes are densely packed with the golden eyes of the fish and the teeth marks on the plexiglass are growing deeper. There were terrible sounds in all directions. The fish were not only biting the plexiglass, but also drilling holes in the metal bulkhead. Thousands of them are now swimming between the outer shell and the inner shell. These fish that can chew through anything, are eating the fiber optic cables and the insulation as though it were food.

The lights on the control consoles went out. The water pressure meter and the ampere meter swung to zero.

The last layer to protect them was the metal inner shell.

Chu Zihang reached out his hand to you and it closed around your fingers. “It was nice meeting you.” He said.

“Same.” You replied.

You turn to Lu Mingfei who took your other hand. “I’m also… very happy.” His voice was choked. “I’m sure… the Boss would say something heroic but… I’m sure he’s happy he met you too.”

You let out a breath. “It’s weird… I’m saying good-bye ag-...”

You never finish that sentence. The porthole collapsed and the sea filled the cockpit like a sledgehammer, breaking the supports holding your seat to the deck and then tearing you out of the seatbelts themselves. You’re violently sucked out of the cockpit and into the swirling ocean with nothing to protect you from the frigid water or the debris. Things are striking you and you’re filled with fear, but your eyes are squeezed tightly shut.

You feel a sudden burst of heat and the debris striking you is blown away. Royal Fire? You open your eyes but you can’t see anything but blue ocean and a bit of shining light. Your mind, finally starved completely, mercifully shuts down before you can even start to drown.

[unityghost]

Masquerade

Oh look, I wrote part 29 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels.

Based on the following prompt from Archive of Our Own user PersonFace:

Gabe hides his true thoughts and pretends to make progress, and, to his surprise, he's good at it. Not, they let it go, not, they're not noticing, he's really good at hiding away, and putting on a face. Even Sam is fooled. Gabe is conflicted on how to feel about that.

I'll confess that some of this doesn't follow the prompt to the letter, but I did my very best. And of course I am sorry for how overdue it is.

“No,” said Sam.

“Yes,” said Gabriel.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you, you’re not coming to fight.”

“I heard what you said, which is why I lied and agreed I’d lay low. Thing is, I don’t want to see you flop because you lacked the knowledge to keep from getting slaughtered.”

Sam’s face softened. “You gave us all the information you could.”

He and Gabriel stood alone in a motel room near the Uinta mountain ranges in Utah. It had been a long while since Gabriel had spent a significant amount of time out west, and indeed, they planned on being here for no longer than a few days. Dean had already left to start the car, and Sam was blocking the doorway so that Gabriel couldn’t accompany them.

Gabriel knew that Sam had a point: since healing an injury on Sam’s hand two weeks previously, after a witch and her miniscule but bloodthirsty familiar had attacked him, Gabriel had been exhausted.

Even so:

“You really don’t know much about these sons of bitches,” Gabriel reminded Sam, trying not to sound like he was pleading. “And I’ve seen them before; I would be able to take one on.”

But Sam held firm. “You’ve already done plenty to help us along, all right? You taught us more about the satori than Wikipedia and all the Japanese folklore books combined. We don’t need you to fight; we just needed that guidance. Okay? You really aren’t ready for this. And I’m not saying that to try and make you feel bad. When you’re stronger, I won’t make you stay put. Promise.”

“In other words, I’d slow you guys down.” Before Sam could protest, Gabriel added, “Fine. You’re hardly off the mark, so fine. I’ll entertain myself while you go hunt down your furry lunatic. Remember, get a good swing in, and if it doesn’t know what’s coming then you’ve got yourself an extra three seconds or so to avoid being eaten.”

Sam nodded, pretending Gabriel hadn’t told him this already. “Sure thing.”

“Did you meditate? Clear that noggin of yours? The satori feed on thoughts. Especially complex, contemplative thought.”

“Dean and I both meditated.”

“Like I said: complex and contemplative. I’m not as worried about Dean.”

Sam glanced down at his watch. “Gabriel, I’ve got to go. But while we’re gone, put your feet up. Let yourself relax for a while. I promise we’ll be okay.”

“Did I say you wouldn’t be?”

Sam smiled, and just missed the raised middle finger cast behind him on his way out the door.

Gabriel waited for the engine to fade before he checked his pocket to ensure the room key was there.

Yes, he was worn out; yes, he was low on grace; and yes - he had enough sense to understand that Sam had been generous in allowing Gabriel to come at all when he was sure to slow the others down. Nevertheless, it was true that Gabriel knew these creatures better than Sam did: he’d dealt with them more than once when they had free reign over the Central Pangean Mountains, long before humankind could take advantage of any opportunity to mess with them.

Gabriel was familiar with what scant literature was accessible to the public these days; and no matter how many times he insisted that not only were these monsters more cunning than the Winchesters’ average prey, but quicker and more ferocious, neither of them took the warnings seriously.

“I’m not questioning whether you can take them on,” Gabriel had told them. “I’m just trying to get you to believe me when I tell you that you gotta prepare for more than you’ve been able to read up on.”

“So tell us more,” Dean prodded, watching him in the rearview mirror.

“I told you all I know! It’s not like I’ve ever sat down to have lunch with one. But I’ve seen what they can do to humans, and …” Gabriel paused, remembering. “A couple of times I was able to chase them off.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “And the other times?”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter.” He didn’t want to admit that the “other times” had seen him standing out of sight, watching the carnage and unwilling to get involved. “I just hope you had good reflexes in Little League.”

“We’ve got everything we need,” Sam assured him from the passenger seat. “Plenty of options in the trunk.”

“I’m not worried about what weapon you use. What matters is how fast you can swing it. The goal is to take the sucker off guard, not to destroy it.”

“Then what’s the point of this trip anyway?” Dean demanded.

“See, Sam? Your brother gets what I’m trying to say.”

“As long as we can chase it off,” Sam reminded them both. “Look, Gabriel - I hear you. We don’t know how to kill it. So we’re going to immobilize it.”

“Right.” Gabriel sat back and closed his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on. “With your fancy-pants spellwork.”

“Rowena told us - ”

“Rowena knows how to chase them into isolated sprawls of water. They can’t swim, and that’s all well and good, but what happens after that? Did she do a follow-up study? For all we know, this could be the same one she took down all those years ago. You want me to page the coral reefs, see if they found a mangy corpse over yonder?”

Sam sighed. “You’re just gonna have to trust us. We’re doing the best we can.”

“I know. That’s why I insisted on tagging along.”

Outside of the motel, Gabriel halted, breathing in the mountain air. Not for the first time, he was discombobulated at the subtleties his near-graceless body picked up in a way it never would have before: the way this oxygen was thinner than that of Kansas, the chilly tickle of fall as background noise in the latter half of summer. These minute changes affected him in strange ways, altering his heartbeat and sometimes making him feel as though he was surrounded by unfamiliar presences.

He began walking. It had been a long time since he’d set foot in the Uinta Mountain ranges. Memories flickered at the back of his mind - memories that might have taken place prehistorically or may have happened a mere few centuries before. It was hard to tell sometimes which memories fell where, considering that his time with Asmodeus was a history in itself that felt both very old and very fresh.

That’s how it works when there’s no end in sight, he thought, making his way down the road toward the mountains themselves, where he knew the monster would be lurking.

It was an hour before he got a text message from Sam. Nothing yet. Probably gonna be a few hours.

“Cool,” Gabriel said to the mountain air. “Because this won’t take me long at all. Good thing one of us knows what we’re doing.”

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been on rolling, open grass like this. Lebanon was beige; the mountain ranges were a pure, warm green.

He wished he could move positions the way he used to. It was conceivable that he might manage some distance should he attempt to fly, but there was no point in wasting his energy on that, especially since he wasn’t sure whether he had the grace he needed to take this creature down. He couldn’t remember having ever seen one killed another way; all that could be done, it seemed - at least for humankind - was to frighten the satori off with whatever object an unwitting traveler could swat at it.

What Gabriel had wanted to say to Sam, and hadn’t, was: “If it’s a choice between you getting clawed to death and turned into a meal and me taking myself out with a last gasp for grace, why are we even debating?”

How’s it going? Gabriel texted, and Sam wrote: I’ll let you know when we get rid of it.

That terse reply, indicative of irritation (although Gabriel, sensitive as he was these days, knew he wasn’t a good assessor of others’ emotions), was nothing compared to what he would face when Sam found out he’d tried to tackle the satori on his own. The real upside to Gabriel not making it through this in one piece was that he wouldn’t have to deal with punishment.

Sam’s not going to punish you, something inside of him retorted, but he focused on taking one step after another. He was tired, but he could feel that his grace was present. Maybe healing Sam’s hand had stimulated it.

Doesn’t matter. Just gotta get this done.

When he felt the satori, his neck prickled and his heartbeat sped up. It seemed that his ability to sense unwelcome supernatural presences had either never left or been reignited at some point in the recovery from his time in Hell.

Or perhaps he was attuned to predators lying in wait.

“Come on,” Gabriel called. “Eat me.”

All birdsong ceased as Gabriel turned around.

The creature stared at him and smiled.

“You’re gross,” Gabriel told it. “You look like if the offspring of Mr. Potato Head and an orangutan got its finger caught in an electric socket.”

The goblin-esque animal-thing only grinned wider. Its eye sockets were still and hollow in a furry face.

When it spoke, its voice was high and tight as if it had inhaled from a balloon, and the words came rapidly:

“The blackness thickens,” it said. “No one will be here for long; it’s all pretend. Not one of them wants you; not one of them cares. It’s a good thing you came along to destroy the enemy: make yourself useful and perhaps they’ll let you stay. Ask nicely and they’ll allow you to keep stealing from them.”

Gabriel’s skin crawled. “What are you doing, you mangy freak?”

“It has not been able to read your mind before,” the beast replied. Gabriel, who could only assume that “it” meant the satori itself, could no longer tell whether it was actually looking at him or whether those grotesque holes were sightless. The horrid animal looked dead. “You used to be an angel. When you were more than this, it couldn’t get into your head. But look: is this not proof of what you have become?”

“I’m here to - ”

“And yet if you use what little grace swims in your near-human flesh, what use will you be? Perhaps it is time; the hour has come to show that you’re a failure, and they’ll have the excuse they so sorely need to throw you away. It can eat you, too; if you are human, and it can read you, then it can swallow you as well.”

Gabriel stepped backward.

Chill out, he told himself. The son of a bitch is screwing with you.

“The son of a bitch is not screwing with you,” the creature said. “Your memories - I smell them on your breath.” The satori cackled - harsh, like retching. “You fear that he is still inside of you. Who would have thought that you, once so esteemed and powerful, might buckle? Paralysis maintains its grip upon the creature you once were.”

Paralysis indeed, Gabriel thought as he found himself struggling to respond with either speech or movement.

The creature gave its choking laugh again. “You see? You are frozen. It knows. It knows better than anyone.”

“Wrong.” Gabriel steeled himself for either overwhelming exhaustion or worse. He felt a pang of annoyance that he couldn’t do this the way he used to. “No one knows better than yours truly.”

The flash of grace hit the creature hard, and Gabriel felt some of it ricochet back to him. It hurt, but wasn’t enough to knock him over. That came only after he saw the satori crumple to the ground, its eye sockets just as lifeless as they had been a few seconds before.

Gabriel found his face pressed into the dirt. Every muscle ached in a peculiarly human manner.

He experimented with standing up and found that, although it was a sluggish process, it wasn’t impossible. He was dizzy but he could walk.

He took breaks here and there to lean against a tree and catch his breath. The birds had started singing again.

During one of these brief siestas, he sent a message to Sam:

I know you’ll hate me and I don’t blame you but I squashed the big furry toad thing.

A few moments later, Sam replied: Where are you???

Almost to the motel.

What were you thinking???

Gabriel didn’t reply. Sam sent another message only a few seconds after that: We can find you if you stay put. Don’t move.

I’m almost back; calm down.

He could picture Sam closing his eyes and inhaling, trying not to show that he was frustrated.

Are you sure? Sam asked.

Yes. Chill. I’ll meet you there.

He didn’t check the messages after that.

Gabriel arrived first. The motel room smelled like coarse carpeting and the salami sandwiches Dean had eaten in Gabriel and Sam’s room several hours before.

Gabriel groaned and lay down on one of the two beds. He wished he could fall asleep then and there, but he knew he was about to be in trouble.

“You didn’t even take a weapon?” Dean cried when the brothers returned. “You were just banking on being able to lasso him with possibly nonexistent angel milk?”

Sam strode over to the bed. “Did you really - ”

“I’m sorry. I know. I didn’t want you to get slaughtered by something I knew I could get rid of for you, okay? Sue me.”

Sam cupped his hands over his face and exhaled. “Did it do anything to you?”

“No.”

“It didn’t hurt you?”

“If it had, then my answer would’ve been yes. I’m fine, Sam. I’m good. And I knew you’d be upset with me, but I would rather you be mad than dead.”

“I’m not upset with you; I just - you should have told me you were going to risk your neck like that.”

“Well, I asked your permission to risk my neck and you said no! What was I supposed to do, Sam? What’s done is done and we’re all still freakin’ alive, so go shower and stop yelling at me.”

He knew that Sam wasn’t yelling, but to Gabriel it sounded dangerously close.

Sam glanced at Dean.

“He’s an idiot,” Dean announced.

“Come on,” Sam snapped. “That’s not helpful.”

“Neither was going after a monster without telling us first.” Dean glared at Gabriel before making his way to the exit and slamming the door behind him.

“He’s worried, that’s all,” Sam said.

“Yeah, he’s all in a tither over my safety. I could tell by the way he tried to disembowel me with his eyes.” Gabriel shoved his face into a pillow and groaned. “I know, okay? I do. I really - I mean - look, I’d be royally pissed too, but I was doing what I thought was best. I’m not sorry for that.”

“I …” Sam struggled for a moment, but all the fight seemed to have left him. “I’m glad you managed to pull it off. Just don’t do it again.”

With an effort, Gabriel sat up. “I’m not interested in standing by anymore.”

“We’ve had this talk already: you don’t owe us anything.”

“Fine.” Gabriel flopped back down. He hadn’t removed his shoes. “I just knew what had to be done in this instance. It can’t be taken back now and I’m glad you’re not dead.”

He shut his eyes, then felt the mattress sink under Sam’s weight.

“I’m sorry,” Sam told him. “It’s only that - ”

“Don’t be sorry.” Gabriel kept his eyes closed. “I knew the reaction I was in for. As if I didn’t run through this a thousand times in my head. You disowning me is more appealing than me having to dig your grave.”

“I wouldn’t disown you. You know that. I’m not mad, and if I was - ”

“You are mad. But frankly, I figured you’d be a lot worse than this.”

“You really don’t trust me, do you?”

Gabriel opened his eyes and squinted up at Sam. “I trust you. You obviously don’t have enough faith in me to help you when you need it, though.”

Sam stood up. “Maybe let’s have this conversation tomorrow.”

“No need. Go clean yourself up.”

“Take off your shoes.”

“Too tired. Not conscious.”

As he was drifting off, he felt Sam untying his sneakers.

There was little dialogue during the long trip home the following day. Dean was still tense, which surprised Gabriel, who had been ardently convinced that Sam would be furious and Dean would be relieved. Dean wasn’t worried about whether Gabriel lived or died, and someone had taken care of his dirty work for him.

There was, of course, the possibility that Dean was upset over being denied a triumphant capture. But Gabriel wasn’t particularly concerned about Dean’s feelings in this instance. What mattered was that he and Sam were both alive and well.

Gabriel slept most of the way home, and his dreams were full of eyeless beasts clawing at his face and digging soiled ape-like paws so harshly into his skull that the pressure became too much and he grew blind. In the nightmares, he tried to scream at them, but couldn’t make a sound.

There was nothing he could do, because they already knew he was afraid.

He was stiff and clammy when it was time to climb out of the car. During the extraordinarily long journey (probably not so extraordinary for them, Gabriel realized), Sam had taken Dean’s place at the wheel and Dean was staring sullenly out of the window.

“Okay back there?” Sam asked.

Gabriel nodded.

“Here - ” Sam made his way around back to open the door and help Gabriel out.

“I’m fine,” snapped Gabriel. “I can move on my own.”

He immediately felt guilty for his tone of voice, but the dreams wouldn’t leave him.

“What���s wrong?” asked Sam. “Hey, you’re all sweaty and shaky.”

“Tired from using up my grace. Think there’s probably none left.” Both halves of his explanation were true. There was no need to explain that the nightmares had made it worse.

He shoved himself out of the car and Sam reached out a hand to steady him. Gabriel stepped away before Sam could touch him.

“Gabe,” said Sam, “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m not.”

“I can tell when something’s wrong with you.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “Is that so?” He straightened himself and made a concerted effort to walk evenly and steadily up to the door and down the stairs into the bunker. He stumbled toward the bottom step and Sam grabbed his shoulder.

Gabriel wrenched himself away. “Jesus, Sam, I’ll tell you if something’s wrong!”

“Okay!” Sam looked alarmed. “I just - okay.”

Gabriel ignored the shame that accompanied his outburst. Sam didn’t deserve anybody shouting at him, but there could be no denying that he was right: Sam had seen Gabriel in various states of distress and knew what it looked like when he wasn’t well.

He turned away, making for his bedroom; then he paused and looked back at Sam.

“I just need a little rest,” he said. “That’s all it is. I’m on edge, all right? But I’ll be fine.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Go. Get some sleep. I’ll bring you something to eat later.”

“All right.” Gabriel wasn’t sure he would be able to eat, but there was no reason to make Sam more suspicious. “I’ll see you later.”

He didn’t look back this time.

That week, Gabriel made it a point to eat in front of them - especially Sam - at least once a day. He wasn’t unable to eat, and mostly it wasn’t a necessity; usually, however, he didn’t have any appetite. Besides that, hunger made him feel guilty, and sometimes he had a hard time eating without an immediate recollection of being held down and force-fed during his time with Asmodeus.

If Sam noticed that Gabriel was eating more, he didn’t say. Gabriel tried to let his mind go blank during mealtimes. Asmodeus often crept in, and he must have looked a certain way when that happened because Sam would frown.

Not one of them wants you; not one of them cares.

Gabriel forced himself to swallow, privately willing Sam to stop watching him, desperate for control over his own mind.

Is this not proof of what you have become?

Not even Sam ought to have access to his innermost thoughts and memories - not anymore.

Meanwhile, Dean’s behavior had settled into some semblance of normalcy. Gabriel had never been more thankful for his indifference; he had never taken such joy in the absence of intuitive empathy.

Then there was Castiel, who seemed mostly inclined to leave his brother alone. He sometimes looked puzzled - although that wasn’t unusual for him - but he didn’t say anything.

If Jack had any suspicions about Gabriel’s newfound stoicism, he didn’t let them show. He was cheerful and inquisitive as always, and yet - maybe from spending so much time with Cas, or perhaps because he had learned neither how to express his compassion nor how to block it - there were times he too appeared confused, not sure what to make of his uncle.

“Why are you looking at me like that, kid?” Gabriel asked him one evening.

Jack replied, “How am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m still brushing off loam from the uncanny valley.”

Jack didn’t know how to respond to that, and the subject didn’t come up again.

The four of them were sharing dinner one night when Gabriel made his decision.

“Hey,” he said to the others. “You guys all need to chill right the hell out, okay?”

Everyone turned to stare at him.

“Every time I take a bite,” Gabriel elaborated, “At least one of you watches me like you think I’m going to burst into flame. Or tears. Maybe that was warranted at one point, but I’m starting to feel like there’s something stuck in my teeth and nobody wants to tell me.”

“Your teeth look fine to me,” said Jack.

“Look,” Gabriel went on, “I get that I kind of wore myself out back in Utah, but can you fellas please stop watching my every move with those confused looks on your faces?”

Sam appeared taken aback. “Is that what we’re doing? I guess I was just …”

Slowly, looking him in the eye, Gabriel forced himself to take a bite of the pizza Dean had crafted. He had tasted it before, and although it was exceptionally good, Gabriel had a hard time with the richness of it. Had it been up to him, he would have steered clear of meals that were meant to make a person feel full. This was the first time in the last week that he had fully committed to this sort of sustenance; before that, he’d been able to get away with lighter fare.

The fact that Gabriel was able to dismiss the taste and weight of the food, that he was able to bring his mind elsewhere and ignore the spasm of nausea he had anticipated when he sat down, was encouraging.

“You were just what?” Gabriel asked when he’d swallowed.

“Uh …” Sam blinked. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“You’re used to me being a swooning maiden,” Gabriel countered. “Right now I feel fine, and your constant inspection is nothing short of creepy.”

Sam furrowed his brow, but nodded. “All right. Sorry, Gabriel. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Gabriel took another mouthful, swallowed, and said: “Who knows? Maybe using my grace to wipe out the monster was just the kick in the pants I needed to get up and running again. I mean, hey, if I have it in me to off a predator from Jim Henson’s fever-dream, maybe I’m not in for the permanent misery that seemed inevitable before he and I faced off.”

Sam smiled, looking more at ease. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

“Hey,” Dean interrupted, “You including me in that accusation? You and I have been having a great time.”

“That’s true,” Castiel agreed. He hadn’t taken any pizza, but was enjoying the company. “I’ve never seen the two of you get along so well.”

“Right?” Gabriel sat back. “So what do you have to complain about, Sam?”

“I’m not complaining, Gabriel, really.”

“Good. Because if you’ve got something to say, you can say it to me.”

For a moment he was afraid Sam was going to shout at him, although Gabriel knew that when he’d dared use that tone with Asmodeus, he deserved whatever response came his way.

Instead, he saw Sam further relax. “All right. I will.”

Sam was watchful during the remainder of the meal, although it was possible that Gabriel was only imagining as much. Sometimes he thought he felt Sam’s eyes on him, but when he looked over, Sam was just enjoying the food.

After dinner, Dean crooked a finger at Gabriel. “C’mere a minute.”

Gabriel followed him into the hall.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, which surprised Gabriel.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“Look, I’m not complaining. I like you like this. But last week, before we left for Utah, you were afraid to ask for a napkin - and that’s even if you took five minutes to eat without Sam practically forcing it down your throat. So what gives?”

“Nothing,” Gabriel said again, wishing Dean had used different hyperbole. “Why are you harassing me about this?”

“Well, maybe if I knew what I was harassing you about it, we wouldn’t need to have this conversation.”

Gabriel stiffened. He felt betrayed. He had trusted Dean to be ignorant and unconcerned.

“I don’t know what you think you’re seeing,” Gabriel told him. “All I know is it isn’t real.”

“Maybe Sam should be the one to decide that.”

“Oh please. What’s Sam got to do with anything?”

Dean remained stone-faced.

Gabriel hardened his voice. “No one’s bothering Sam about anything. What, have you consulted him how to fix whatever imaginary problem you’ve got keeping you up at night? Asked him how to rewire his favorite disaster?”

“No,” said Dean, “Because I’d never hear the end of it from this new version of you.”

“What ‘new version’ of me? I can’t figure out if I’m being insulted.”

“Look, all I know is people don’t change like this overnight. Not without a reason.”

“Good thing I’m not people, then,” Gabriel snapped.

Dean shook his head. “Like I said, man, I don’t know what’s going on with you. Maybe it’s none of my business; I just figure you should ask Sam for help if something isn’t right.”

“I - ” Gabriel faltered. “You don’t want me to bother Sam about this, do you? Not that there’s any - but if there were, if I was - look, no one’s asking Sam for anything, okay? There’s no need, and if something was wrong with me, then he doesn’t need to do anything. Poor sap’s done enough for every lifetime he’s been put through.”

“I think he’d wanna know.”

“What would he want to know? What do you think the issue is here?”

“Well, if I knew, I wouldn’t’ve thought to bug you about it. But fine. Maybe my intuition is off.” He turned to leave, but then paused and looked back at Gabriel. “Sam would never forgive himself if you felt like you couldn’t tell him something, though.”

Gabriel stared at him. Then, more timidly, he asked: “Are you sure you haven’t mentioned anything? About … about whatever you think you see?”

“No. Should I?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Look, Gabe,” said Dean, “He worries, but at the same time, he really wants to see you get better. He might be pulling the wool over his own eyes about this. If something happens to you and he thinks he could’ve done something to stop it, neither of you is going to be okay.”

Gabriel didn’t respond.

“I’ll see you later, Gabe,” Dean said, and left him standing in the hall with his heart beating twice as fast as it had been during dinner.

With static humming in his mind, Gabriel went back to his own bedroom. He shut the door and lay down on the bed, puzzled and frustrated by the sudden tautness in his throat. He ignored it.

He felt as though he had just been scolded, although he was reasonably confident that no such event had taken place.

Paralysis maintains its grip upon the creature you once were.

It occurred to Gabriel then that even he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. He allowed himself a brief indulgence in the notion that Sam really was under the impression that, for the first time in months, nothing was so wrong with Gabriel as to require immediate attention. He wondered if they could be friends without the ongoing dynamic of victim and savior, although he knew Sam would have scoffed at such a description.

Then he considered the practical implications of remaining here when he had just taken such a hit to his grace supply. He had reason to believe that it would come back - he had been entirely without grace more than once, and it always came back - but the amount of time that would take couldn’t be predicted. If he was to stay here, in the bunker, he had to have grace sooner rather than later. He remembered being without grace in Hell, and wished he could forget the punishment for such a crime. Now, in the bunker, he might not be penalized so much as …

Well, uselessness was a punishment in itself.

The hour has come to show that you’re a failure.

Gabriel sighed and closed his eyes.

They’ll have the excuse they so sorely need to throw you away.

No dreams, no nightmares, no tossing and turning: this slumber was quiet and pure.

But the next thing Gabriel knew, there were two voices calling his name; one he recognized immediately as Sam’s, and the other took him a few seconds to identify as that of Castiel. He couldn’t make out the words, and then he realized he couldn’t fully open his eyes; they had grown too heavy.

Panic set in as someone lifted him upright. He didn’t even have the strength to go rigid, let alone any power to fight back.

“Gabriel.” Sam was speaking to him in a low, hurried voice. “We’re not going to hurt you. Just wake up, all right?”

Gabriel wrenched his eyes partway open. The room was hazy. He took shallow breaths.

“Geez,” Sam told him. “Gabe, buddy, we couldn’t get you to wake up.”

Gabriel tried to ask, Why? but couldn’t make himself speak.

“It’s almost two in the afternoon,” Sam told him, “And when I came in to check on you, you just …” He trailed off.

“Wouldn’t move,” Castiel finished.

Gabriel leaned back against Sam.

“What’s going on?” Sam pressed. “I’ve never seen that happen to you before.”

When Gabriel managed to reply, his voice was hoarse. “I’ve fainted plenty.”

“This is different. Hey, keep your eyes open for a minute; we thought - ” Sam paused. “We just didn’t know what was going on.”

“Tired,” Gabriel slurred.

“This goes beyond tired, Gabriel,” said Cas.

“My grace … it’s …”

“It’s what?” Sam prodded.

“Dunno. I …” Gabriel tried to ignore the pounding in his head. “Killing the monster, the satori - ”

Sam and Castiel waited for him to continue. When Gabriel’s breath began coming a little more easily, he finished, “Maybe took some fight out of me.”

“This is why I told you not to come.” Sam didn’t sound angry - just worried, even afraid. “I know you were trying to help, but Gabriel, you were the one who said how vicious those things are. You’re not ready for something like that.”

“Through no fault of your own,” Castiel added.

Gabriel tried to push himself off of Sam and found that he was too weak.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked him. “Does anything hurt?”

“Why?” The question emerged, at last, without Gabriel even thinking about it.

“What? Why what?”

“What good’re you gonna get out of knowing what’s the matter with me?”

Sam shifted so that Gabriel was lying with his head on Sam’s lap instead of bent at an angle against his chest.

Castiel spoke up: “I suspect that Sam is simply trying to remind you that you’ve become an important part of his life, and he doesn’t want to see you suffer.”

“Well, whoop-dee-doo.”

“Gabriel …” Sam checked for a fever, then pushed stray locks of hair from Gabriel’s eyes. “I don’t understand. You seemed okay last night.”

“I’m still okay.”

“That’s obviously not true,” said Cas.

“Can you try and sit up?” Sam asked.

“Maybe.” He let Sam shift away and prop him against the pillows. As he watched Sam step back, face pale with concern, he had a moment’s doubt about his own pride.

Sit back down, he wanted to say, or I wouldn’t want to touch me either.

He closed his eyes.

“No,” Sam commanded. “Gabriel, don’t. Not yet. I want you to stay awake for now.”

When, and how, had this suddenly become too much? He knew how to frolic in lies. He knew how to make personal falsehoods into very real truths; pretending until he was no longer play-acting was a familiar process.

Why now, then, did he feel his throat tighten as he stared down at the blankets?

He was committed this time, though. He was well-versed in the warning signals of a breakdown and understood that there was no benefit in acting like a child. Sam had seen and dealt with enough, and Gabriel had debased himself so often that he couldn’t imagine anyone harboring even a modicum of respect for him at this point.

That was fine. He needed to learn not to care so much about his reputation at the bunker.

“Cas,” Sam said, “Maybe …”

“Yes. Of course.” Gabriel felt his brother watching him. “If you need me, I’m nearby. Although I suspect you know what you’re doing, Sam.”

“Thanks. I think we’ll be okay.”

Gabriel heard the door close.

“All right,” Sam said, “I know you don’t like to be coerced into talking to me, and usually I’d let up a little, but if you’re sick you need to tell me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what happened just now?”

“Beats me. But what do you expect?” Gabriel spoke more smoothly now, but directly to the blankets. “I used up all my grace on the satori. Can you blame me for being a little out of sorts?”

“No, of course I don’t blame you. But I’m not talking about your grace. Or at least I don’t think I am.”

“Yeah? What do you think we’re discussing here, then?”

“I don’t know.” Sam looked helpless. “You seemed fine yesterday, and now you’re - I mean, how did you go from that to this? This whole week you've been ... I mean ... I don't know. I thought ... ”

“Am I not an open book to you anymore? Good.”

“What?”

“There’s no reason for you to be inside my head. There’s no reason for you to - to know any more about me, or what happened to me, than you already do.”

Sam was silent.

“I see through your strategy, Sam,” Gabriel added, still staring at the blanket. “I - when you’re quiet, you want me to talk.”

“I’m just worried.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear, and I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what I can do to make you feel better about this whole thing.”

“About what whole thing? About you trying to get well?”

“Pal, if that’s what you’re looking for - for me to get back on my own two feet - then what are you complaining about? Obviously I’m better. I haven’t cried or thrown up once since we got back, and I don’t see how that’s a questionable development.”

“No, I mean, it’s not, but - ”

“But what, Sam?”

“It’s not. Really, it isn’t.”

In the moment of silence that followed, Gabriel felt such an urge to speak, to tell the truth and recount exactly what had happened in the mountains, that he tore his gaze away from the blankets and met Sam’s eyes. He now had a choice: he could say something about what had taken place, or he could lose control of himself altogether.

If there was a third option, Gabriel didn’t see it.

“I don’t want to give you a whole novel about this,” he said. “My head is killing me.”

Sam nodded.

Gabriel hesitated for a few moments longer. Then he took a deep breath and began: “When we were out in Utah, and I took down that creeptastic freakazoid, it - you know - it did what it does. It found some way into my brain, and yammered on and on about my every thought. Which wouldn’t have been a problem in and of itself if I hadn’t - if I wasn’t - well, before, when I faced one of them, it couldn’t read my mind. I was an angel and it couldn’t get in. So what does that tell you, Sam?”

Sam looked blankly at him.

“Come on, Mr. Ivy League,” Gabriel pressed. “This is measurable proof that right now, at least, I’m more human than anything else. Plus, I’ve already got one monster in my head. I don’t need another psychic bedfellow. You mean well, I know, but - but don’t you think, Sam, that you being the way you are to me might be holding me in one place? Or making me an easier target, instead of building me back up to what I used to be?”

“I’ve never thought that.”

“Well, does this change your mind? I just wrote you a whole thesis.”

“Gabriel, if you didn’t have any power then you wouldn’t have been able to take that thing down in the first place.”

“And look at how that turned out. I can barely move.”

“That’s because you haven’t given yourself a chance to recover.”

“How was I even supposed to know I needed it? I’ve been fine this last week.”

“Have you?”

“Yes!”

"I sort of wasn’t talking about the satori.”

“Oh for the love of all things holy and unholy, Sam, stop being so dramatic. I’ve had plenty of time to tunnel my way out of this.”

“Did you get through the whole week without a flashback or nightmare? You seemed like you felt pretty good. I … should I have checked?”

The guilt in Sam’s voice made Gabriel wish he’d stayed unconscious. “No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I said no, Sam.”

“You’re not well.” There was horror and distress on Sam’s face now. “I thought - ”

“Christ, Sam, relax.”

“Why didn’t you - ”

“Because this is on me, Sam! It always has been. And that’s almost beside the point. Geez, you know - you really need to make up your mind. Am I meant to improve by eating more and learning to calm myself down, or am I supposed to hold you like a security blanket every time my engine misfires? Which is it, Sam? Should I be strengthening the muscles that Asmodeus deflated or should I keep letting you man the ship when a storm kicks in?”

“Gabriel …”

“Answer the question. I’m serious. I can’t solve this equation no matter how creative I get with it. What am I supposed to do? For me, for you, for everyone here? I need an answer and maybe you have it. I sure as all get-out have no idea what I’m supposed to do or where I’m supposed to go without messing something up.”

Gabriel thought Sam looked like he might cry. “I guess it depends.”

“No, see, that’s not how this works. Because if this was a case-by-case endeavor, one of us would have found the balance by now. No, Sam, I don’t feel good. Why’s that? I don’t feel good when I’m alone; I don’t feel good about how I act when you step in. There’s no winning for me, and for you there’s just constant sacrifice that never leads anywhere. There’s a right and a wrong answer here, and if neither of us can figure it out, then I don’t know what to do. Just stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop - stop trying to make me showcase my emotions. Maybe it works for you but it doesn’t lead to anything good for me; all it does is make me feel ashamed.”

Sam seemed at a loss for words. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “I’m not trying to make you do anything. Gabriel, I think you should just do what feels natural. If that means pretending everything’s okay, then - then fine, I guess, except I don’t think that’s what you really want.”

“Well, I don’t know what I want; as far as I’m concerned, I don’t want anything except to be more like an angel and less like a toddler.”

“I don’t think of you that way. You know that, Gabriel.”

“Sure, fine, but let’s not sugarcoat the fact that I am the way I am, and the responsibility is on me to change.”

Sam looked away, contemplating. Then he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about what happened with the satori?”

“Because then I would’ve gotten worked up about it and so would you. You would’ve been worried about me.”

“I’m worried about you anyway.”

“Yup, I missed the mark on that one. What else is new?”

“So you think - ”

Gabriel shoved himself properly upright. “Stop it, Sam! For the love of every damn good thing left in this world, just stop it! Stop trying to coach me into a breakdown!”

Sam looked aghast. “I’m not!”

“So what are you after? You want to help? Do you want to keep me in one piece or break me into a thousand? I never know with you anymore; it - ” Gabriel took a shuddering breath and began to cry. “You know exactly what you’re doing. I’m not here for you to play with me, Sam!”

Sam stood up. “Gabriel - ”

“Is this what you want?” Gabriel raised his face so that Sam could see the tears. “You think that bullying me into showing my feelings is going to lead to success? I don’t like myself like this! I don’t want you to see and you keep on trying to open me up just like he did! Stop it, Sam! Stop it!”

“No, no - hey - ” Helplessly, Sam took his hand and Gabriel tore it away. “I - Gabriel - should I get Castiel?”

“No!”

“I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Neither do I!” Gabriel pounded the mattress with his fist. “So stay, because I need you here, and I hate you for that and I hate me for that too. I hate all of this!”

“I know you do.” Sam’s voice shook. “But you haven’t done anything wrong. Maybe I have; I don’t know. But none of this is your fault. I’m so sorry if I messed up.”

“You didn’t! I did! I don’t know! Stop it!” Gabriel took frantic breaths, tasting salt where the tears met his lips.

“You said I was like him.” Sam sounded weak. “If I ever made you feel that way, it was an accident.”

“You’re not like him; you - you’re trying to do something to me, and so was he, and I don’t know how to tell the difference between you pushing me to bleed out in front of you and him ripping me open with his bare hands!”

“I had no idea that’s what I was doing!”

“Because you’re - Sam, you’re - ” Gabriel found himself unable to breathe for a moment. When he managed it again, he said, “You’re not evil.”

That seemed to perplex Sam. “I hope not.”

“Of course you aren’t. But do you have any idea what that does to me?”

“I … no, I guess I don’t.”

Gabriel didn’t know either. He ground his teeth against the urge to scream.

No one will be here for long; it’s all pretend.

“I wasn’t like this before,” he said.

“That’s because you weren’t trapped in Hell before.”

“You’ve been trapped in Hell! And you’re nothing like this! Talk all day about how you need help, about how you have your bad dreams and your breakdowns - but you’re nothing like this, nothing like what I turned into.”

Not one of them wants you.

“That thing knew,” Gabriel wailed. “That thing knew exactly what I believe, exactly what I’m afraid of; that thing got into my head in a way even I can’t get into my head! I don’t have any control anymore, Sam - none.”

Not one of them wants you.

“That creature thought I was human, Sam,” Gabriel whispered. “Feeding on your kindness hasn’t done anything except squash me.”

Not one of them wants you.

“I know I can’t really understand what it’s like, exactly,” said Sam, “But what scares you so bad about being human? Especially if you know you aren’t, and your grace always comes back - even it’s on the slower side.”

Gabriel shook his head. “It’s not about the grace.” He swiped at his cheeks with his palms. “It’s about this.”

“About …”

Gabriel looked at him. “Do you know, and you’re just trying to get me to say it?”

“No! I’m not trying to make you say anything.”

Gabriel wasn’t sure he believed him, but lacked the energy to argue. “Well, then it’s about - it’s about the stuff in my head, and how I seem to be open season for anyone who wants a shot, for better or worse. In your case, it’s for the better; you don’t want to hurt me, or at least I don’t think you do. But you still know. You still see inside of me, and I’d give anything at all for a little emotional opacity. I’m weak, maybe as weak as I was in Hell.”

“No.”

“At least in my stupid cage I had a consistent idea of what the next day might bring. I anticipated chaos. He’d destroyed me, on purpose, for fun - so after a little while, I didn’t have to pretend I was holding myself together. Giving up the effort was easy enough; I had no choice. Well - no - unless I did have a choice, and made the wrong one. But he had power over me and I was used to being hurt. I didn’t have to play at not being vulnerable. It’s not like that anymore, Sam.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“You’d expect so, wouldn’t you? Me too. I’ve lost track of what’s good and what’s bad. So it’s not my grace I’m worried about. Or - no, that’s not true. I do worry about my grace, because I don’t know what the heck I’m supposed to be without it. It’s more like - it’s that worrying about my grace is almost a luxury right now. If I get to lose sleep over how much grace I have instead of how easily I get scared and lose control of myself, I count myself lucky.”

Sam frowned, trying to grasp what Gabriel was telling him.

Sometimes Sam understood, and sometimes he couldn’t relate. In this case, Gabriel suspected, Sam was at a loss because at no point in his life had he ever known genuine autonomy. With Gabriel, it was different: independence and secrecy were everything to him.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel muttered. “I know I don’t make this easy for you.”

Sam was silent for a moment longer, then asked: “Can I tell you something?”

Gabriel froze. This wasn’t the first time he’d become immobile over the possibility of Sam explaining that no, he really couldn’t do this anymore. Perhaps this was the paralysis to which the satori had referred.

“It’s nothing bad,” Sam added hastily, in yet another demonstration of how naturally he could read Gabriel. “I just wanted to say that I don’t look down on you for being affected by your time with Asmodeus. Of course you freak out sometimes; who wouldn’t? And don’t say anything about me," he added as Gabriel opened his mouth. "I’ve been out of Hell a lot longer than you, and you were gone for so long … there’s a lot you didn’t see.” Bitterness crept into Sam’s voice. “Anyway, you can’t help what this has done to you. But hey, you know who would judge you for struggling? Asmodeus. Not me. Not any of us, but especially not me.”

Gabriel tried to respond, but there was no way to speak around the tightness in his throat and chest. The sincerity in Sam’s voice hurt him.

Finally, he managed: “You set that up to sound so dramatic.”

Sam smiled. “Sorry.”

Neither of them spoke for a while after that, although the break in conversation felt natural, not awkward.

Gabriel was fighting sleep when Sam broke the silence. “You’re convincing, you know that?”

“I’m what?”

“The way you just … slipped into your old role. I was surprised, but it didn’t seem forced. The way you spoke up for yourself at dinner last night was impressive. Normally you would’ve been scared of getting in trouble.”

“Hm.” Gabriel considered. “Well, I’ve said it before, Sam: I don’t know who or what I was before Asmodeus. Something changed; that’s all I can tell you.”

“And I was thinking - you know, even before we got back from the mountains, I saw something different. You pushed to come, and then you broke your promise about staying in the motel. I don’t know, maybe I’m off, but that’s a decision you might not have made before.”

“It was important. If something happened to you because I was too afraid to help, that would’ve been punishment on its own. It was a no-win situation so I took the option that I knew would keep you alive.”

“But you probably weren’t so sure about whether you would come out okay.” There was no accusation in Sam’s voice; he was merely making an observation.

“No,” Gabriel agreed, “I didn’t.”

Sam went on, “And it says something, doesn’t it, that you were able to put on such a good act? That’s an old talent that maybe you haven’t tapped into in a while.”

“It must not have been as good as you say, because your brother picked up on it somehow.”

Sam looked surprised. “When?”

“Last night he cornered me about how it isn’t standard to switch from empty to full in such a short span of time. Said I should go to you if I needed help.”

“Wow." Sam blinked. "I guess I don’t really know what to make of that.”

“Well, to me it means that some lucky winner always has access to my cesspit of a brain. Whether that’s you, or Dean, or Asmodeus, or a mountain-dwelling monster.”

“Oh geez, Gabriel …” Sam reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “It’s not like that, buddy.”

“Of course it is. Everybody gets a piece of me if they want it.” Gabriel turned his eyes to the sheets again, fighting tears. “And when I wasn’t whatever I am now, the satori couldn’t get into my head. Like I said - proof, Sam. Proof so concrete you could draw chalk around it. Proof.”

Sam shook his head, but didn’t seem to know what to say.

“I can’t stay awake,” Gabriel muttered, because it sounded more reasonable than When you look at me like that, you’re proving my point. “Can I rest a little bit?”

Sam hesitated. “Let me wake you up in twenty minutes. Just to make sure you’re not out cold again. Then, if you’re okay - another hour, and we can take it from there.”

“Fine.” Gabriel hated the idea of being shaken awake in such a short time, but hadn’t the stamina to argue.

Sam helped adjust Gabriel’s position so that he was lying down, then pulled the blankets around Gabriel’s shoulders. He didn’t move to leave.

If this was an instance of Sam being able to read him too easily, he didn’t want to know.

[clumsyclifford]

hm hi maybe i will officially ask you if you want to hurt me and write a therapy fic. i vote malum but. you do as— no you know what i'm me this is a malum prompt i'm sending you okay love you bye

hiya taylor i hope you realized when you asked for this that it would be angsty as fuck, so i really can’t apologize for uhh writing something angsty as fuck!! BUT with a hopeful ending because we know how i am

tw for suicide ideation, suicidal thoughts, depression

read it here on ao3

-

Michael is winded from the moment they walk onstage.

He’s been all smiles all day. Somewhere he’d heard that smiling was supposed to trigger some kind of happy brain chemical, a creepy fake-it-’til-you-make-it strategy. It has not worked. Michael is exhausted from the effort he’s put into looking like he’s okay. The smile has become a grimace, and he doesn’t have the energy to make it look more realistic. Cameras capture upturned lips and that’s enough to convince them he’s happy, which is the important thing. 

He doesn’t intend to watch those videos when they’re edited together. He can’t even bear to look in the mirror these days. The travesty of him that stares back out with dead eyes only makes him feel worse. At this point he’d doubted whether or not he could actually feel worse.

Standing in front of almost thirty thousand people, it turns out he can. Or at the very least he can feel equally bad in a different way. He’d been drowning before, but he’s choking now. Dying either way. 

If he died onstage, slain where he stood, what would his band do? What would the thousands of fans do? Maybe it would be a mercy. Michael’s a liability right now. He’s frozen in front of thousands of people at the fucking O2 Arena, for fuck’s sake. The band is supposed to be skyrocketing and Michael is a faulty engine, fuel that’s caught fire. If they keep him around they’ll catch fire too, and then they’ll all be free-falling, instead of just him. 

They’d hate him if he died onstage, though. Michael would hate himself too. At the O2, of all places, really? How much more of an attention whore can you be? Couldn’t have waited for a smaller venue to have a heart attack? Or maybe a hotel room? Someplace you could be alone?

Shit. Fuck. The loud cheering has wavered, and all three of his bandmates are giving him concerned looks. Michael fights for breath and finally — for better or for worse — manages to take in the oxygen he’d been missing. And then he forces yet another smile, for his bandmates — but he can’t look at them, can’t see the looks on their faces, not right now — and for the stadium. The sound of screaming doubles in intensity. Michael is already so tired, and they’ve only just started the show.

Luke yells something lead-singer-y and Michael’s hand shakes against the strings of his guitar until he starts playing, closing his eyes for a moment so muscle memory can take over. 

It’s too loud. One way or another, he’ll drown; his lungs aren’t working the way lungs are supposed to, and if they’re not filling with air they might as well fill with water.

Holy shit, he thinks, because he knows enough to know that these are Dangerous Thoughts. But he can’t deal with that right now because they have a show, and after the show he’s fully booked with Pretending He’s Fine from now until forever.

On the opposite side of the stage, Calum catches his eye, and Michael tries to infuse his hollow smile with warmth, sincerity, anything to make that worried expression melt away, but he’s not stupid enough to think it’s worked, even when Calum turns away. Although Calum does turn away, so maybe it means he knows Michael’s lying and just doesn’t care.

You’re in the middle of a show, you fucking idiot, says Michael’s evil subconscious. They’re not going to stop the show in the middle just because you look like you’re seconds from death. You always look like that. 

Right. Right. Michael’s done this to himself. Calum’s not crippled with concern, and he shouldn’t be; he’s Michael’s best friend, not his fucking therapist. Not that Michael has a therapist. Nor does he want one. No random stranger would give a fuck about his bullshit problems, and neither would a random stranger with a PhD.

Fuck. The crowd is getting louder. Is it possible for them to get louder? Or is that all in Michael’s head? Or is everything all in Michael’s head? Are the in-ears keeping the fans’ screams out, or Michael’s screams in? Fuck. Shit. Oxygen is being awfully unreliable today. It’s so loud. Michael closes his eyes again. He knows this song. He’s played this stupid fucking song a thousand times. He could play it in his sleep. He could play it in his casket. That might be what he’s doing right now.

Fuck.

-

Michael is in a constant game with himself, pushing his own limits just to see where he’ll snap. The way he sees it, it’s like exercising a muscle; wherever he breaks, he grows back stronger so he won’t break there again. At this point his threshold is high enough that when he’s feeling particularly masochistic — although when isn’t he — he really has to work for the breakdown. 

It’s a blessing and a curse to be able to handle this much. It means that even when everything is wrong, Michael doesn’t collapse. Which means that he can still play an entire concert at the O2 Arena without having a meltdown, but also that by the time he actually does break, his insides are charred from all the damage control that hasn’t quite succeeded in containing it. 

At least a hotel room is a better place for it than an arena stage.

He can feel it creeping up on him, and he knows it’ll be soon. It won’t take much. There’s already enough wrong as it is. The hotel room is too cold. It’d been nice for a little bit, immediately after the show when he’d been sweaty from the performance, but now it’s making him shiver.

He has sweatshirts, hoodies, blankets. But that would be cheating. Michael stays where he is, sitting at the chair by the window in the tank top he’d played in, staring outside at the sprawling mass of London with all its flickering lights. Sitting by the window is also definitely not helping the temperature situation, but Michael isn’t shying from the crash; he’s trying to induce it. 

Just then, Calum comes out of the bathroom, still towel-drying his hair, and Michael knows what’s next.

Sure enough: “Hey,” the same way one might talk to a baby animal, like if Calum talks too loud he’ll startle it. “You okay?”

Guess, Michael thinks, swallowing. Take a guess. What do you think? “Fine,” he says, because that’s his line. Calum won’t believe it, as well he shouldn’t, since Michael is lying.

“You don’t seem fine,” says Calum. His voice moves around behind Michael as he gets dressed in joggers and a hoodie. “I saw you when we went on to play tonight. You looked like you’d seen a ghost.” There’s a pause. “Like you were a ghost.”

Michael swallows again, and it’s more difficult this time. His eyes sting; his fingers twist anxiously around the hem of his shirt. “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“Well, you didn’t see yourself,” Calum says. 

“Was probably the lights.”

“Don’t be like that, Michael. It’s not like I think you’re okay. I know you’re pretending for the rest of the world, but you don’t have to pretend for me.”

Fuck.

This conversation is not going to be your breaking point, Michael thinks fiercely to himself. Calm down. He inhales raggedly, although it does nothing for his composure. He’s breathing around thorns only by telling himself that they’re roses, and all the while they shred the walls of his lungs, making it more difficult to cling to oxygen when he takes it in.

I’m not pretending, he wants to tell Calum, but he can’t. “Well, you don’t have to worry about me,” he returns. Fuck. His voice sounds shaky and the lights of London are swimming in his vision.

“I don’t worry because I have to,” Calum says. His voice is closer, but before Michael can figure out what he’s doing, he’s taken the seat across from Michael at the window, dropping a flannel into Michael’s lap. “I worry because I love you. You’re shivering.”

Is he? Michael hadn’t noticed. He looks down but he can’t see anything, but if he blinks then the tears will fall and Calum will notice and Michael will have to admit that maybe this is his breaking point and he doesn’t want it to be but he is cold and when he blinks even his eyes feel cold and he quickly looks back at the window and moves his hands on top of the flannel and Calum says, “At least put it on, it’s cold enough in here without wearing a tank top,” and Michael’s throat closes up because however much he can control himself around cameras and crew members and friends and fans, something about Calum makes him completely unravel.

Maybe it’s not that this is his breaking point. Maybe it’s just that this is a safe place to break.

(Maybe it’s a little bit of both.)

So he picks up the flannel and pulls it around his shoulders without putting his arms through the sleeves, and he sniffles and says, “Thanks,” voice all fucked up and wobbly.

“Yeah,” Calum says softly. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m tired,” Michael whines, and that’s the last he manages before he’s crying like a little kid, tears streaming — it’s been so long since Michael’s cried and he’d forgotten that tears were this relentless, fresh new ones falling now matter how many times Michael tries to squeeze them away — and Calum moves like he’d just been waiting and pulls Michael into a hug, where Michael hides his face and tries to hold his breath because he’s going to die eventually and it will probably happen soon and Michael would at least like to die in Calum’s arms, while he has the chance. But the sobs wracking his body force him to inhale so that plan falls through almost immediately. Because Michael can’t even die right. Fuck.

“Oh, babe,” Calum murmurs. His arms are tight around Michael. “I’m sorry, love, honestly, I’m so sorry.”

Michael can’t stop crying or else he’d say why are you sorry? even though he knows this is more of a sympathetic platitude than anything. Calum does sound sorry but surely he knows it’s not his fault — that this is Michael, all Michael, Michael’s fucked up brain and fucked up self and total inability to get his shit together like everyone else. The more successful the band gets, the worse he feels, and he knows that’s not what’s supposed to happen and he feels even shittier that he’s not being fucking grateful for everything the band is giving him and all the opportunities he has thanks to this, and instead is so stuck in his own fucking head that he’s tallying the passing days like an apocalypse survivor, counting each one he lives through. Or possibly counting down until his death. 

The wrenching sobs slow to nothing. Calum doesn’t try to get Michael to talk, and that itself gets Michael to talk. The silence is worse, and Calum is here, and Calum is safe, and Calum loves Michael. 

“I am not okay,” he mumbles into Calum’s shoulder, which should be a given at this stage, but Calum only squeezes him a little tighter and doesn’t interrupt. “I know that’s a shock.” Calum hums. “I can’t explain why. I don’t know. I just know that this…isn’t how okay people feel.”

“Yeah,” Calum says quietly.

“I don’t know what to do,” Michael says helplessly. “I don’t — I don’t know. But I keep — like — the things I think, you don’t even…you don’t want to know. If you’re worried now, you definitely don’t want to know.”

“I am worried,” Calum says. “But you can tell me if it’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t want to. It’s not your job to be my therapist.”

“I’m not trying to be your therapist, I’m trying to be your friend.”

“It won’t make me feel better. I’m not going to tell you,” Michael says, though that just means Calum will draw his own conclusions, which might be worse. Not that anything is worse than Michael’s actual thoughts. He adjusts his grip on Calum, tightening his hold. The flannel is falling from around his shoulders, but he doesn’t want to move to pull it up.

“That’s okay.”

“I hate this,” Michael whimpers. It hits him like a hurricane how true that is. “I don’t like this. I don’t want to not be okay. It’s not worth the effort.”

“I know,” Calum says, rubbing circles on Michael’s back.

None of them are okay, truthfully. That’s why Michael can cry on Calum’s shoulder; he knows Calum would cry on his. It’s possible he’s a little worse than the rest of them, but he’s not alone. There’s a twisted comfort in knowing that he doesn’t really have to explain himself to Calum.

“I’m sorry,” he says mournfully.

“Don’t be sorry, you’ve got no reason to be sorry.”

Michael nods, though he’s still sorry. But they won’t get anywhere if Michael’s always apologising. It’ll only serve to annoy Calum, and right now Calum is all Michael has. If the world got any bigger it would crush him, so he keeps it close; it’s only him and Calum and the chill emanating off the window and the flannel dragging against Michael’s back.

Later, when the world expands again, when Michael can bear it, when he’s expelled all the water out of his lungs and stuck plasters over the cracks in his facade to hold himself together, Calum will sit with him on the bed with his laptop open before them and type up a search for virtual therapy despite Michael’s half-hearted protests. Later, Michael will sort himself out a little, Calum by his side to pull him over gaps when Michael’s too much of a coward to step across. Later, much later, a Michael of the future will write about the Michael of the present like he’s a distant memory, using past-tense verbs to make the most tragic sentences into a success story. That Michael is okay, or at least more okay. 

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I really think you’re going to be okay,” Calum whispers into his ear now, pressing a lingering kiss to the curve of his jaw. 

Which doesn’t make anything better in the long run, but certainly doesn’t hurt to hear right now. 

“Thank you,” this Michael sighs, as Calum tugs the flannel back up over Michael’s shoulders. 

“Of course,” Calum says lightly. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Present Michael can’t see past this moment, but as he takes his first deep breath in days, inhaling the familiar scent of Calum and warm from Calum’s embrace, he thinks that if the future were to hold more moments like this one, it might just be worth living through.

[rukanrin]

You set my world on fire---Dante x Female Reader

So I’ve been listening to this song for over one year now,Rapture Rising by JT Music, about BIOSHOCK and i was thinking,if i could do the same thing as i did with Vergil,with the lyrics and setting,could i make this blow by adding a lot more drama?(i will replace it with another song because hell it does not fit the romantic theme) well I’m here to find out! make sure you survive folks and this is when Dante was still a dipshit teenager,about 16 or 19 we will see -Ruka T/W: slight mentions of murder and cannon gore ---------------------------------------------- I lose my breath whenever I see you You stole my heart, what is it that you do? you shuddered,you mother had always hated your father,but never had you thought she would make you stay in the underwater city people claimed to be ‘paradise’, yeah, a paradise for monsters and murderers, you were a teenager now, the only thing keeping your sanity was the broken teddy bear and building blocks,you did get an education,but you hadn’t had contact with anyone,or anything for that matter for a long time My life was grey 'til you added colors Like the moon needs the sun, we don't care about the others you were sitting beside a small hole in the bottom of the hall,placed to that the water did not overflow or get in,your father had been missing for so many years,so were your sisters,but ‘mother’ would still watch your every step,oh how you wished to just jump into that hole and swim up to the outside world,the world the others say is free of greed,pain,boredom.... You set my world on fire You're my heart's desire Suddenly the water in the gap moved,which caught your attention,nothing had moved underwater for so long,so what was the water doing now,was it just that below your tunnel another cracked and let out air? then you saw it, the beings that crawled into your nightmares, its long,slender fingers bent as it pulled itself into the tunnel,then it saw you I just wanna love you, just wanna hold you Just wanna be with you 'til we grow old You subconsciously moved back,giving it even more hints that you were a living being,and you were ‘kill-able’,it screeched and reached out to you,only to get pissed off when you turned on your heels and ran,the (favorite color) bow’s ends flapping off your (black/white) dress,you ran,and ran,and ran,but it wasn’t that stupid, and surely was not as slow as you Please tell me you'll stay or take me away I want you for myself every single day you ran into a dead end,turning around to find the monstrosity in the tunnel right in front of you,you were on the verge of tears,you didn’t want to die,you couldn’t die,no,not here,not till you see the world above,you were now on your knees and covering your eyes, expecting to either be met with the sickly warm blood coming out of you, or to be turned into one of the yellow-eyed dolls,no ther weren’t dolls,but they acted like ones... You set my world on fire You set my world on fire but instead of the two,you heard a loud thud,and a metal click,you looked up,your cheeks pink from your tears,that’s when you first laid eyes on him,your savior,and also your curse...Dante...younger son of Sparda...his icy blue eyes met yours,yours were filled with shock and hope,whilst his were filled with mischief and love, “take a picture,it’ll last longer” he commented,giving you a smug grin which left you flustered,in search of words I don't know what I'd do without you You make me smile, what is it that you do? “I-im sorry,my names (Y/N),(Y/N)(L/N)...” You introduced yourself,extending your hand for him to shake, “Dante,nice to meet you beautiful~“ he held your hand with is gloved one,giving you a kiss on your knuckles,he then pulled you in and draped a hand over your shoulder,kicking the anomaly out of the way as he lead you through the tunnels,back to that sick,dark,little playroom you spent most of your life in My life was grey 'til you added colors Like the moon needs the sun, we don't care about the others “That’s your stop I’m gue-” Dante stopped talking after seeing your upset face,you didn’t want to be here,you wanted to break all the windows,break free from this underwater prison,but it would cost you your life “Hey...are you alright?“ he questioned,holding both your hands , his voice was coated in worry,you had been walking for a few days in the tunnels,meeting many more creatures,dolls, and dead ends,you got to know him personally through those few days,he was a fun guy,and you fell for him,you fell into a dark ocean,with no oxygen,you snapped out of your thoughts,not noticing the tears swelling up in your (eye color) eyes,he looked at you with a serious and worried expression,still holding both of your hands as if to say ‘I’m not letting you go till you’re ok’ You set my world on fire You're my heart's desire You came closer as he let go of your hand,embracing one another as you silently cried “I-I don’t want you to leave,I don’t w-want to be here a-anymore!” you whispered,you truly didn’t want to leave his side,he lit a flame in your candle heart,made you feel loved...you wanted to return the favor, “sweet pea,I can’t really have you going on wild hunting rides with me,but i can stay for a few da-” you couldn’t help yourself and cut him off with a kiss,you were ashamed,that you couldn’t have waited a little longer to confess... I just wanna love you, just wanna hold you Just wanna be with you 'til we grow old Please tell me you'll stay or take me away I want you for myself every single day but he didn’t push you away,instead he pulled you even closer,returning the soft show of affection,sure he had flirted a lot,and had a playboy attitude,but he didn’t really have experience,but he knew,at that moment,that the feeling that kept him from leaving you behind isn’t just his conscience.A minute later you both pulled away,you looked away,a rose red blush appearing on your face,as he gave you a daredevil grin “oh (Nick name),if you wanted a kiss you could have asked” Dante teased,to which you responded with “so do you um...li-” you felt a finger on your lips,making you stop talking You set my world on fire You set my world on fire “love you?” the son of Sparda finished your question for you,”will this answer your question?“ He chuckled before giving you a peck on the nose,you took that as a yes and nodded,but there was a problem if you two were to be together,after all,this town is full of tunnels,killers,monsters,dolls...”dont worry your pretty head about how it will play out,I’ll keep you safe“ dante promised,pulling you closer to him,and the cursed playroom seemed to finally regain its childhood warmth and light I just want you, I just need you I don't know what it is you do I just want you, I just need you I don't know what it is you do....

[fizzingwizard]

Episode 34 arrives and it’s a MUCH NEEDED breath of first air. I mean, this episode could have actually BEEN a 99 Adventure episode. I guess at least one person on the production team has actually seen the old show at least once!

In my opinion, it doesn’t quite equal the cuteness, silliness, and personality of similar 99 episodes, but it comes very close, and it’s certainly the best we’ve had in a long long while.

And it’s all because of these two.

More below!

The episode bizarrely begins with Tailmon barking to communicate with Komondomon. Which raises the question, if no one could talk with Komondomon before because he can only bark, how were they communicating? Did Lopmon just tell Komondomon everything he needed to know and tell the kids “just follow his lead” or something??

Also Tailmon’s opening line being her barking is pretty surreal. And yet, fitting for a cat Digimon who is a dog at Child level.

The kids are shown taking a break - the first sign that this episode is gonna be A Bit Different.

Taichi: Something feels weird. Why aren’t we fighting?

Sora: Taichi, don’t you think you should rest once in a while?

Taichi: I mean, I do, I just got the impression the rest of the world didn’t agree...

Sora: By the way, why do we like this world that constantly tries to kill us and never gives us any pleasant memories so much? Why don’t we just take our partners to the human world and leave this place to its fate?

Taichi: How else am I gonna get an outlet for my pent up aggression and adrenaline junkie issues?

Sora: That’s your backstory?

Taichi: I’m a complicated man.

Komondomon then randomly jumps... into the sea. “Oh no, they’ll drown!” No, they won’t, because Komondomon has the ability to build a dome over his back trapping oxygen inside. Submarimon I get, but Komondomon?

As they dive, Tailmon explains what we learned last week about Millenniumon trying to resurrect himself with a new body. Apparently a very large fragment of him is located undersea in a place called Farga (transliteration TBA). She thinks resentfully about how she was almost absorbed into Millenniumon’s most recent resurrection effort.

Hikari tackles her with a comforting hug, which Tailmon seems a bit discomfited by. But does not object.

Tailmon considers defeating Millenniumon for good to be her personal mission as a Holy Digimon. Patamon sees her determination and does his best to put on his game face too. It’s like being glared at by a sock puppet.

Tailmon: I can’t allow Hikari to be put in danger. It’s my job as the Holy Digimon -

Tailmon: - gosh darnit and she’s just so cute too!

They wind up getting hit by a rip current or something?? and thrown into another weird submarine sort of thing. They discourteously break a hole in it and wind up inside a self-sustaining underwater kingdom, apparently, which instantly goes on Red Alert as Manbomon come to attack them.

This is Daipenmon, or Big Penguin Monster. I love him. He is glorious. Gaze upon his expression of perpetually stoned haze.

Daipenmon: You try steering this thing every day in and out nonstop without turning to hard drugs.

She attac!

While fighting, some Mantaraymon break in through the hole they made and the Manbomon go to drive them off as apparently they are not welcome. Then MarineAngemon appears in all her creepy glory and they sort everything out.

MarineAngemon: Oh, Tailmon, I see you’re a Holy Digimon! I can tell by your Holy Ring. I have one too.

Takeru: Patamon, why don’t you have a Holy Ring?

Patamon: .... -.-’

Look! See! So cute! They are floating on bubbles! All the kids get their own and each has an individual design that shows their personality. Here Tailmon tries desperately to keep Hikari from falling off. I missed this kind of thing! Flashbacks to Monzaemon’s Toytown...

Turns out MarineAngemon is extremely small and the scene before was all “don’t pay attention to that man behind the curtain” type scare tactics. Not very effective since no matter how big MarineAngemon gets, she’s still extremely adorable. She invites them to stay the night. I really expected it to be a trap, but it wasn’t.

OH MY GOD IS THAT FOOD ARE THEY EATING ACTUAL FOOD OMG OMG

quick someone alert the producers! Someone’s having FUN with this show! I was starting to think that was illegal or something!

It’s not AS fun as when they went to Devimon’s illusory castle in 99 Adventure and stuffed their faces after starving and living on potentially poisonous eggs for a week... but I’ll take it.

Meanwhile an undersea band plays music and Taichi ACTS LIKE THE FIFTH GRADE CHILD THAT HE IS. For about 0.5 seconds but HEY he did something child-like! holy cheez wiz batman!

Hikari is mysteriously absent so Tailmon goes to find her. Turns out she’s asked MarineAngemon to heal Komondomon who is tired and wounded from their journey. Tailmon’s like, “Aw, what a nice person she is.” I’m all for exceptionally kind-hearted Hikari, but taking care of Komondomon should have been priority 1 for EVERYONE. At least Sora should have thought of it. I can see Taichi being too forward-focused, and Takeru a dumb eight year old, but Sora would definitely have thought about Komondomon.

Clearly the show wanted to establish how nice Hikari is, but I hate when shows inadvertently make all the other characters look like asses just to trump up the current star...

Taichi’s digivice glows and...

... MINI KOUSHIROU RETURNS!!! Hurray!

Um, what’s that Sora’s drinking? A mimosa? o.O

Well anyway, Koushirou just shows up to remind everyone of the situation with the satellites and that things are getting worse.

Taichi: Do you have any idea what we can do about it?

Koushirou: No, but I’ll keep you posted.

Taichi: Thanks for nothing braindead

Koushirou: That’s it! You’re not the man I knew in episode 3 anymore! I want a divorce!

Taichi: Fine with me it’s not like you’re ever home anyway!

Koushirou: Well at least I’m not cheating with YAMATO!

Taichi: I HAVE NEEDS!

*cough*

Uh, I know Taichi is shorter than Sora, but he looks... pretty tiny here... lol. Or maybe Sora’s just had a growth spurt again.

They spend the night sleeping in bubbles. Aw.

By the way, question: the kids seem able to walk and breath normally in MarineAngemon’s kingdom... but the fish-type Digimon can also swim around normally. And it seems the kids wouldn’t be able to survive in the ocean itself, but they and the fish can both survive here? And yet bubbles? What... what kind of scientific anomaly is this place??

So... MarineAngemon’s kingdom appears to be a Whamon’s corpse! X’D Wow that’s dark.

They are attacked by Anomalocarimon! For reasons. Actually, they did explain earlier that the ocean Digimon have been more aggressive lately and it seems to be the influence of Millenniumon’s stone in Farga or whatever.

Daipenmon: This sucks I don’t have health insurance

Tailmon frantically tries to fight off the intruders while also keeping Hikari out of danger. This entire episode is about Tailmon wanting to protect Hikari and keep her at arm’s length so she doesn’t end up in danger, while Hikari just keeps trying to stay close to Tailmon and support her.

Tailmon: I can’t take you with me, Hikari. It’s too dangerous.

Hikari: Fine. Big brother, will you bring me into the heat of the action with you?

Taichi: Sure thing.

Tailmon: ...

In his defense, Taichi does seem a bit freaked when Hikari TAKES A FLYING LEAP off MetalGreymon toward Tailmon.

(no I really love that Taichi immediately understands why Hikari wants to fight and takes her right to her partner without even a token “nuu but you’re still a baby.” I mean, if Yamato’s cool with Takeru being in danger all the time, Taichi shouldn’t be much worried about it...

Hikari has a flashback! Turns out she’s heard Tailmon calling for her since she as a little kid!

She caught one of Angewomon’s feathers back then too.

Hikari promises Tailmon that she’ll be by her side. Awww.

Hands again.

Crest of Light! I kind of expect that we’ll find out about the Crests and what they mean really fast at the end of the season... although I’m still kind of hoping Mimi is mining Crest crystals atm.

Hikari is able to magically produce a Digivice... I’d completely forgot she didn’t have one till now.

Here I expected Tailmon would evolve, but instead, the power of Light appears to give everyone a power boost like it’s done in the past. They all glow with their Crest colors, kids and partners alike (except for some reason Tailmon glows yellow???) and launch a joint attack on Anomalocarimon and defeat him. Yay.

Then they say goodbye to MarineAngemon and go on their way, I guess to Farga.

So... yeah! it was a nice episode. It had a theme. There was fighting, but it didn’t overwhelm everything else. There was character development. I really can’t complain about it. And it was SHOCKING that Taichi had so few lines (compared to what’s become the norm - a GOOD shock but still I was like “omg what’s going on!!”)

I am just confused because why is this sort of episode happening when we haven’t seen it in ages? What happened in that interim between when they all met up after the first team split up and just now that prevented the show writers from having fun with the show and just writing nonstop fighting all the time? I’m so confused. It makes no sense. Still suspecting that they couldn’t get anyone to come in and voice characters for long enough so they just focused on Sanpei Yuuko/Taichi, but without the others they couldn’t figure out how to push the show forward and make it fun too... Idk. It’s so weird. But oh well. We got a good episode, and maybe it’s a sign of changes to come. I hope so.

Next week...

We get attacked by a scary looking Digimon and Hikari... Idk, thinks she can block the attack somehow? haha. Aw but look how awesome she is protecting her brother and Greymon!

Hikari gets touched by the dark powers! Oh noes!

And more cuteness.

The episode title name-drops Angewomon, which surprises me because I figured they’d hold off on her and give Tailmon Nefertimon for an evolution first. But *shrug* whatever! Looking forward to it.

[charmed-henry]

Baby There’s a Shark in the Water | Candenrose feat. Bruce

Date: 5/17/21 Trigger Warnings: references to drowning, blood, head trauma, general violence  @thehuntress-rose  @i-want-candy​ @brucewhite​

Candace goes for a swim, Bruce goes for a snack, and Henrose goes Baywatch

HENRY

Finally, finally, Henry was going to relax and have a beach day. Things were going surprisingly well. The wedding, introducing Ashleigh to his family, finals, the fae situation, sure, it could be better, but it could be a lot worse. And so, in his favorite swim trunks and sunglasses, Henry was just slathering on some sunscreen when he heard some splashing in the water and the alarm bells started going off in his head again.

No, he was overreacting. He and Eric hadn’t found anything when they went exploring.

Still, he glanced at Rose. “You’d think the lifeguards would do their jobs a little better, right?” he pointed out, trying not to look too worried.

ROSE:

Yes, Rose agreed to hang out at the beach with Henry with the intention to relax. And yes, she knew it wouldn't last long with her particular company. Still, she remained unbothered by the thinly veiled anxiety in Henry���s voice. She took the sunscreen from him and used some on herself. Rose was only concerned with the horrible tan lines she’d get from her high neck bikini top today. No one could fall overboard, so why worry?

“You seem to be pretty good at it, why don’t you do their job then?” Rose suggested in jest, peering over her red sunglasses. “I’m joking. Don’t actually go all BayWatch on me. You need to relax. There are no man eating sharks in the lake.”

She didn’t know how ironic those words would be later that day.

HENRY:

Henry rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried about man-eating sharks. I’m just saying…” Henry trailed off. He didn’t know what he was just saying, to be honest. If he and Eric hadn’t found anything, what was there to worry about here?

He was being paranoid. As usual. He needed to relax and enjoy the day. Henry leaned back on the chair and closed his eyes, pulling the shades back over his eyes.

Nope. The splashing was bothering him. And then, cutting through the regular beach noise, a shriek. Henry sat straight up and threw his sunglasses off. “I’m going over there. Rose, back me up!”

ROSE:

Rose sat up straight. She heard the sharp rising of a scream above all the chatter and waves and splashing too. It was then she realized she was going to eat her words. Man eating shark or not, trouble seemed to follow the people in organizations made to stop it. Immediately she was in work mode. Protect, attack, obey orders.

“Got it!” She pulled her hair back as she stood up, ready to dive into the action. She scanned the shore line for the origin of the shriek. And then another sounded. And another. “There!” she nodded and began to run over, feet kicking up sand and water licking her ankles. “Is that..?”

Candace? Candace and blood? What was going on here?

CANDACE: The weather had decided to warm up on this particular saturday in mid-May. When a few girls from Candace’s major asked if she wanted to go to the lake, she said yes. Not because she particularly liked these girls--they were fine and everything...they just didn’t have a lot in common--but because a day at the lake sounded perfect. Finals were starting soon and Candace really needed a zen day before that happened because she had felt her focus slipping with everything else going on.

So, to the lake she went.

And it was a nice day. The sun was baking down on her and the water was the perfect temperature. Maybe a little cool, but on her floatie, she was perfectly relaxed. Her body was half in the water, arms wrapped around the inflatable tube that her friend was sitting on. With her legs, she was lazily directing them about the lake as they sipped on cold beers that someone had brought in a cooler.

If asked later, Candace would not be able to tell you what she was talking about, but for now, they were all just idly chatting. One of the dumb boys splashed water at them and they retaliated with squeals of playful displeasure.

A lovely, normal day at the lake...

BRUCE

Bruce was going on thirteen days vegetarian. The last time he got hungry, he demolished an entire bag of frozen shrimp alone in his room, like an animal. He stared at it afterward, the ripped plastic remains of the bag reminding him horribly of the carcasses of the live sea creatures the researchers used to bring him in the lab, and vowed that he was done for real this time. The more he practiced, surely, the better he would get at this.

He didn’t get better. He got worse. It started with getting shaky and distracted, then incurably hungry, then a pull toward the water. Then there was a full moon, and Bruce didn’t sleep as well, flashbacks and memories keeping him up at night, and he started fantasizing about fish at all hours. Bruce promised himself he would stay away from the lake during that beach party, but only a few days after, he found himself at the lake.

It was so risky. There were people everywhere. But Bruce wasn’t thinking right, and the next thing he knew, he was in the water, in his merman form, prowling around the bottom of the lake. Not the same as the ocean, not by a mile, but enough to call forth his instincts.

He smelled it from across the lake. A tiny drop of blood. And before Bruce could stop or reason with himself or try any of those tactics he had taught himself, he was zipping across the lake, his instincts taking over. He was hungry. He needed to eat, by any means necessary.

Bruce followed the smell to a pair of girls sitting in inner tubes. One of them had a small papercut, the one with red hair, and without thinking, Bruce sprang out of the water and sank his sharp teeth into the girl’s leg.

CANDACE “Ugh, Greg!” Candace grouched in the direction of the boy who had splashed them, “you made me cut my finger!”

The wound was sharp and bleeding but shallow. She must have sliced it on the seam of the inner tube when she jerked away from the splashing water.

Scowling at the asshole, she dipped her hand in the water, rinsing the cut out.

“Ew, Candace! This water is so gross.”

“It’s not that bad, actually. I’ve seen worse.” Growing up around the Great Lakes meant trips there on family vacations and being around a million gross tourists. Candace was not really an outdoorsy kind of girl, but a little lake water didn’t phase her much.

Candace didn’t think twice about it. To the point where, later, she wouldn’t be able to pinpoint that as the moment she became a target.

It all happened very quickly after that.

At first, all it was was a tug. As if someone had dove beneath them and grabbed her around the waist. Probably Greg because he was an asshole like that.

“Candy,” huffed her friend, who was almost dislodged from her tube. And then, more forcefully: “Oh my god, Candy!” as a bubble of red water burst at her side.

“What?”

The first shriek was not Candace’s. It was her friend’s as Candace was torn off the inner tube and pulled into the water. She gasped as soon as she went under, filling her lungs with lake water. Disoriented, she twisted slightly, but that only made the pain in her leg pronounced. It shot up her thigh and into her hip and her nails instinctively clawed at the dark shape in the water as she screamed.

HENRY: As they jogged over to the shoreline, Henry was about to start bragging about how his intuition never lied and people should really listen to him more when he saw the source of the shouting. Candace. And, launching itself at her, some sort of sea creature?

Henry wished Eric were here, because he would know exactly what to do. Henry hadn’t brought his weapons with him today, but maybe the beach umbrella could work. “Hold on!” Henry shouted, then ran back to where the umbrella and chairs were set up and ripped the umbrella out of the ground, not really caring if he looked ridiculous. He ran back over to the water and brandished the umbrella and its pointy tip. “Get away from her!” Henry warned.

ROSE:

Unfortunately for Rose, she was more of a head first approach kind of gal. She didn’t need a weapon; she was a weapon. The huntress ran forth into the shallows and truly saw the scene for what it was. A grey creature had latched onto Candace’s leg. It was dragging her under. Rose grabbed the redhead in an attempt to keep her head above the water.

Without thinking, Rose kicked it in its side. It wasn’t too hard considering the water slowed her down. She tried to pull Candace away from its teeth, despite the screaming. If she pulled too hard more damage would be done to the damsel. It was on her to get free. Rose could hold off this beast, but only for a few moments.

“Henry! Hurry it up!” She overestimated herself, they needed a weapon.

CANDACE: Time had lost all sense of meaning to Candace.

Her lungs were burning, deprived of oxygen and full of lake water. If she didn’t die of blood loss, she was most definitely gonna die from drowning. In fact, she could even die of a pulmonary enema if she survived this. Or have brain damage. Or organ damage. At the very least, she could develop an infection. She watched too many medical shows, apparently, if this is what she was thinking about before she died.

Because she was pretty sure that was what was going to happen. She was completely unaware that there was anyone trying to rescue her.

When her head surfaced, due to Rose grabbing her under the arm and pulling—Candace didn’t even register that was what was happening. She kept thrashing on instinct, clawing at Rose as if she was an attacker too. Trying to use her to stay afloat above the water as she coughed and gasped for air—dunking Rose under the water instead.

HENRY

If only Eric were here. If only Henry had paid more attention in the lessons about mercreatures. Maybe this was some horrible kind of irony, that he had been so indignant about people valuing his family’s specialty but should have considered others to the same level of threat. He knew there might be creatures in the lake. Why hadn’t Henry been more vigilant?

But there was no time for Henry’s typical cycle of worry and regret and guilt. He had to get into action. Rose was tough and she was a good fighter, but he didn’t want her fighting this thing alone, especially unarmed. Not that an umbrella was much of a weapon, but it was better than nothing.

“GET AWAY FROM THEM!” Henry cried, letting the terror and rage at seeing two of his closest friends in harm’s way fuel him. The Order always emphasized the importance of being detached from a situation, to focus on the skills and training that would carry you through to victory, but Henry was finding that being emotionally invested was its own kind of weapon.

As Rose tried to pull Candace away from the creature, it tried to lunge again, giving Henry the opening to slam the umbrella against the creature’s head with a sickening thunk. The creature cried out in pain, a high-pitched, strangled kind of cry. For a moment, Henry felt a twinge of guilt, but then he saw Candace thrashing in the water and, his sense of protectiveness renewed, hit the creature again.

ROSE:

Rose yelped and flailed into the water. She kept her grip on the girl but lost her footing. Candace fighting against her was not a part of her improvised plan. Getting dragged under the surface wasn’t either so Rose got a mouthful of lake water. A bitter side of her thought, ‘if I knew this was going to be so much trouble, I would have let her drown…’ But Rose knew her dedication to saving people would always outweigh her self preservation. The thrill she felt hunting, and even now, underwater and at the mercy of magic she didn’t understand… it always outweighed self preservation.

The blonde resurfaced with her charge. Sputtering and spitting out murky liquid, Rose coughed out, “CANDACE. Stop struggling and swim!” Sure, her leg is a bit out of commission, but she had Rose to support her. Candace would be okay. The huntress’ presence guarantees it.

She tried again to pull the girl back to safety. This time the creature no longer latched on and is otherwise occupied with Henry.

BRUCE:

Deep-water merfolk have an evolutionary instinct that snaps them out of a feeding frenzy when things get too dangerous.When they sustain a certain level of injury to the head or to sensitive organs, they go into survival mode, and the need to find food is secondary to the need to find shelter and a place to tend to one’s wounds. At the lab, Bruce’s life got a lot worse when the researchers discovered this fact.

So the blow to the head was almost familiar. By the second one, Bruce dipped below the surface of the water, and that was when the situation revealed itself in full to him. What he had done. He had attacked an innocent girl in the lake, like a monster, and now this boy was trying to kill him with an umbrella. Horrible, creeping guilt took over, but Bruce couldn’t stay around here any longer pondering his actions. He had to make it to safety.

Bruce poked his head above the surface one more time, surveying the sickening scene, confusion and fear showing on his face. But he only had a few seconds before the boy with the umbrella raised the weapon high above his head, and Bruce knew what was coming next. He ducked back under the water and sped off toward the deepest part of the lake, his head ringing with the pain of the hits and the million thoughts he had running through his head.

He couldn’t stay here forever. Bruce knew they would come looking for him. But for now, this felt safe, the darker, cooler water that reminded him of home.

What would the agents say if they found out? Would they give up on him, decide he was a hopeless case and lock him up? Even if not, Bruce knew their confusion and disappointment would be unbearable.

Hating his horrible appetite, Bruce easily captured a few trout and ate them, and then changed back into his human form, leaving the lake on the far side near the forest. He wandered there for a while before he made it back to his apartment, dripping wet and looking dejected.

CANDACE: Candace was not the only one screaming. The lake had just recently opened, which meant that tons of people had flocked to it on their weekend. Just like Candace and her friends had. Just like Rose and Henry had. Everyone was on their way out of the water now, people shouting for help. People shouting about sharks and monsters and all sorts of things. In the distance, there was already the sound of sirens wailing too. The benefits of such a small town meant help was never too far away.

Candace wasn’t paying attention to any of that, though. She was only aware of the pounding of her own heart and the sound of the water as she and the monster struggled.

All of the sudden, it was like a weight had been lifted as the creature let go. In its place, Candace felt the burn of her wounds as they started to bleed. Her panicked splashing only made it worse, but she couldn’t think. There was only blinding terror.

It was Rose shouting her name that finally snapped Candace out of her panic, but only enough to stop her from thrashing. She kicked feebly with her good leg, adrenaline (adrenaline is released by the adrenal glands) still coursing through her body, terrified that whatever had attacked her was still lurking in the murky water, ready for round two.

The next thing she knew, she was being dragged onto land, the sand scraping against her back. She looked down to see the blood as it stained the ground around her and felt her heart rate tick up again. Every movement caused more to pour from the wound.

“What the—“ she started and then leaned over to cough up water. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

HENRY

The creature swam away. As Rose pulled Candace to shore, Henry tried to chase after it, swinging the umbrella widely, but despite Henry’s attempts at least to render the creature unconscious, it still managed to get away. Another failure. Another loose thread. Henry had saved Candace, but there was still a dangerous sea monster on the loose, and once it tended to its wounds, it would be back and hungry for revenge.

Wait.

Candace.

Henry whipped around to see her lying on the shore, sputtering and shouting as the wound on her leg bled onto the sand. Something tightened in Henry’s chest-- anger, fear, guilt, maybe, that he hadn’t been able to prevent this from happening. And something else, too. The realization that if things had gone differently, Henry might have lost Candace forever, and the last things they might have said to each other would have been those vicious text messages.

That thought was even more terrifying than any sea monster. Through fights and breakups, Candace was still Henry’s friend, and seeing her like this reminded him of that. He couldn’t believe he had wasted so much time refusing to speak to her when something like this could have happened any moment.

Of course, though, there were more pressing things to attend to. Henry splashed out of the water, rushing to Candace’s side. There was already a small crowd gathered. “Everyone, back away!” Henry shouted. “Has someone called 999?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, though. What was more important was that Candace was bleeding. Henry knew from Order training to apply pressure to the wound and try to stop the bleeding. He glanced at Candace, and the look of fear on her face seized him with a fresh wave of panic. One thing at a time. He turned to Rose. “Can you stay with her while I go get something to stop the bleeding?”

ROSE:

As soon as they reached the sand Rose stumbled over the tangle of limbs and tried to wave away the bystanders swarming. Candace was in shock and the crowd only made things worse. It must have been some sight to see some random college students save a girl from a lake monster, but this wasn’t a TV drama. The attention overwhelmed her, Rose was a covert operation kind of huntress. Her heart was racing just as fast as the girl’s who was attacked. She couldn’t face them. So she focused on the task at hand. First aid was second nature to the girl, she’d self administered plenty of times before. The trail of blood leading up to a sputtering Candace was being licked away by the small waves and Rose nodded to Henry only half processing what he said.

“I got her,” the wounds weren’t too deep, but this would hurt. Rose took both of her hands and wrapped them around the bite marks, applying even force. She hoped Candace was too distracted by everything else to really feel it or fight her anymore.  “Candace, you’re in shock. You’re only gonna bleed more if you panic. Can you take a slow deep breath for me? Like this.” In and out. Nice and slow. Most of the people Rose had taken care of had been veterans of injuries like this. But this was just a girl, she was probably terrified so she did her best to calm her.

“Henry is getting more help. You’re gonna be okay. Just lay back and breathe slow.”  She kept her gaze on Candace, really trying to be a comfort.

CANDACE: Candace was, vaguely, aware she was in shock. There was a part of Candace’s brain that knew what to do. She had had a summer job as a lifeguard at a lake near Dansville. Granted, there wasn’t really protocol for an animal attack (is that what this had been? she wasn’t totally sure.) But, Candace also had a fascination with how the body worked. The different chemicals and functions. And she knew too much blood loss, combined with the chilly water, would lead to hypothermia and shock.

The shock was probably more serious than the hypothermia, but both together was definitely an even bigger problem. It’d be that combo, not the blood loss, that would cause significant damage.And if that didn’t take her out, an infection probably would.

Taking deep breaths wasn’t going to help. Well, it would get oxygen to her organs which would be shutting down soon if nothing changed; but in the long run: deep breaths were gonna do shit and she was probably just going to die.

She couldn’t say any of this, though. Her lips were numb and tinged blue. Her heartbeat was a staccato in her chest: fast, fast, slow. She was nauseous and weak, feeling both faint and dizzy.

Falling back onto her elbows, she flopped onto the ground. Like a fish the shark or...whatever...had probably thought she was. The panic was still making her heart race and her thoughts were jumbled: random scientific facts, interspersed with spikes of worry for her brother and Ferb (were they okay? Were they here? She couldn’t remember), thoughts of her dog, and also: Vanessa is going to make so much fun of me for this.

Her heart rate started slowing and she shivered once or twice. “What happened?” she murmured, not even sure if anyone could hear her over the crowd murmuring and the sound of sirens drawing ever closer.

HENRY There were moments when being trained to handle this specific thing was actually counterproductive. Because Henry’s first thought was that he could grab his shirt, or maybe tear some fabric off of the umbrella if it really came to that, and create a makeshift bandage. And then he spotted the lifeguard on duty, who was already heading in the direction of the scene. Right. Modern medicine. Actual authorities.

Ha. Authorities. Authorities who couldn’t even do the one thing in their job description!

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” Henry blurted out. What he had meant to say was that he needed a bandage and something to clean the wound, and maybe some water for Candace to drink, but Henry’s mind flashed again to the image of Candace bleeding on the shore and his face grew hot and red with anger. “You had one job, didn’t you keep everyone safe from god-knows-what in that lake and look what’s happened! That is my friend--” Henry’s throat tightened and he realized he had let his emotions take over far too much.

The lifeguard, a gangly teenager with bad acne and a painful sunburn covering his shoulders, blinked at Henry, looking terrified. It was May-- the lake had just opened-- it was very possible this was his first day on the job. Henry coughed awkwardly. “Er, I mean-- have you got the first aid kit?”

The lifeguard nodded and held up the plastic case.

“What’s your name?” Henry demanded.

“Kevin.”

Henry grabbed his arm and marched him over to the scene. “This is Kevin. He’s got the first aid supplies.” Henry lowered his voice and turned to Rose. “How is she doing?”

ROSE:

Rose heard Candace mumble something, but didn’t have the heart to ask her to repeat herself. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be fine,” she repeated, sounding more like a broken record than a comfort.

Henry was off yelling at some guy who looked like he was in shock too while Rose held steady on the wound. The sirens were getting louder. That’s all she had to focus on, not the foreign bubbling of fear in her chest. Why was she scared? The threat was gone and help was on the way. The waves in the lake died down, but waves of panic built up in Rose. Her hands were the only thing keeping Candace from slipping into unconsciousness… and they weren’t doing a great job.

Her partner arrived back with the ‘lifeguard’, some job he was doing, and Rose looked him up and down. “Do you really think, Kevin, is qualified to use that? She’ll be fine when real help gets here.” She didn’t mean to snap at Henry. But he, of all people, knew how she felt right now.

She was scared.

And then help arrived. A paramedic put a hand on Rose’s shoulder, calmly and cooly moving her away. Still, she held on. “You did a great job. You kids probably saved your friend’s life, but we got it from here. Okay? You can let go now, Miss.”

Another medic came and removed Rose more forcefully and they got to work. She stood away from the scene and stared down at her open palms. Seeing her own hands bloody was nothing new to the huntress, but the slight tremor was.

[strongerwiththepack]

Sensory Sunday: Touch

Whoops I’m a bit late but here’s my ‘touch’ fic for @gumnut-logic's new challenge. The boys weren’t cooperating with me today but I think it turned out alright in the end!

Hyperthermia vs. Hypothermia 

“Do you two coordinate your disasters just to irate me?” Virgil asked in exasperation as he warmed up another heating pad between his hands.

Scott just shrugged but Gordon grinned at him. “Just keeping you on your t-toes bro.”

The joke was kind of lost in the sound of chattering teeth so Virgil just rolled his eyes and placed the final heating pad onto Gordon’s chest. His little brother hissed slightly at the startling change in temperature. Virgil eyed him wearily, he was still pale and his lips had a slight blue tinge to them but at least he was shivering again which meant he was warming up.

He crossed the infirmary to examine how his other patient was doing. Scott, in complete contrast, had a cooling blanket draped over him with ice packs around his neck and armpits. Virgil removed the cold compress from his brother’s forehead and held his hand over it, cringing at the heat still coming off him.

Somehow Scott had come back from his rescue with severe heatstroke and then he’d had to go and pick up Gordon because he’d managed to get hypothermia. It was almost laughable. In fact he had laughed, and now he was regretting all his life choices as he yoyoed between heating and cooling treatments.

“You’re dehydrated, you need to keep drinking Scott.” He reiterated, eyeing the still full glass of water he’d left by his brother’s bed. “Don’t make me put an IV in.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Scott grumbled, grabbing the glass, a little too aggressively, and drinking a few sips.

Scott’s skin was sunburnt and irritated and Virgil could see it starting to peel at his hairline and cheeks. He’d already put cream on them so there wasn’t much more he could do.

“Don’t blame me, you were the one who decided not to wear your UV shielded helmet.” Virgil shot back with a hint of annoyance in his tone because this could all have been avoided if his older brother wasn’t such an idiot.

Scott just glared at him and Virgil rolled his eyes. He knew his brother was regretting that decision now that he was confined to the infirmary and off duty for 48 hours. He’d argued about the amount of time but Virgil was not budging on that one. He knew the dangers of heatstroke and he wasn’t risking his brother going out before he was ready.

“Hey V-Virgil, seeing as I kept my helmet on, do I w-win this one?” Gordon called.

“Seeing as you were at the bottom of the ocean, I’m glad you made that decision.” Virgil replied with a smile shaking his head.

Scott piqued up then, apparently putting the dots together. “How did you end up with Hypothermia anyway Gordon? Your suit should have protected you from those temperatures.”

Trust Scott to jump on the big brother train first opportunity he got. Gordon just grinned sheepishly.

“Well I said I kept my helmet on, I never said anything about the rest of my suit.”

“What!? Gordon, report.”

Virgil sighed. “Scott you’re supposed to be resting. You’re both supposed to be resting.”

Scott narrowed his eyes at Gordon.

“Fine.”  He said getting comfy on the bed. “Let’s call it a bedtime story then, on you go Gordon.”

Virgil frowned but didn’t stop Gordon as he dove into the story with all his usual dramatics. He was pretty curious as well, he’d only heard a condensed version from John earlier.

***

“I’ve just got one more to get John” Gordon told his space monitor brother as he prepared to swim across from Thunderbird 4 to the downed submersible once again.

John popped up looking slightly distracted. “Okay Gordon. Listen, Scott’s got himself in a bit of trouble, think you’ll be okay to navigate solo?”

“FAB John.”

Gordon felt some concern rising for his oldest brother, but John would’ve told him if it was serious. He turned his focus back to the rescue. 3 crewmen aboard a research submersible in the Arctic Ocean that had been hit by a Bowhead whale.

Gordon was familiar with the mammal, Bowhead whales have a massive triangular skull to help them break through the ice in these waters so its unsurprising that it was able to do so much damage to the tiny sub. The entire vehicle was flooded, luckily the crew all had dry suits and breathing apparatus. The problem was getting them from their vehicle to Thunderbird 4 through the strong currents in the water. Due to the unpredictable waters he wasn’t able to dock safely to the vehicle.

So, now he was free swimming across with the researchers but he had to take them one at a time in case the currents were too strong for them to make the swim. It was a fairly standard rescue. He should be done soon. John had directed him to the divers in the first place but he knew where to go now.

Gordon swam through the outer hatch once more, battling his way across to the submersible. These definitely weren’t recreational waters, the current was strong. He really had to pump through the water hard to get through. It was a cross current so he was swimming pretty much diagonally to where he wanted to go, pushing against the current while also propelling himself forward. It was slow work but his hand finally found a rung on the research vessel.

Pulling himself through the opening he’d made previously he swam through the flooded hallways to where he left the last researcher.

“Final call for dry land.” He called out as he turned the corner. Luckily the woman was right where he’d left her and she smiled gratefully.

“What would we do without you International Rescue.” She said in a relieved tone, her Icelandic accent coming though strongly.

“All in a day’s work ma’am” Gordon replied with a smile as he attached a line between them. It was always nice meeting kind people on the job. It was pretty rare when everyone you met was going through what was likely one of the worst experiences of their life so he usually shrugged off any unsavoury characters.

They were almost at the door when the compulsory disaster every rescue seemed to contain occurred. The whole station started to flip on its side and they were thrown into the wall. Gordon felt a searing pain in his side as a piece of bent metal cut into his suit. It was a shallow cut but that wasn’t what Gordon needed to worry about. He hissed as a flood of sub-zero temperature water flooded into his suit. It felt like daggers against his bare skin.

Okay. That puts a time limit on things.

He sucked in a sharp breath, trying to stop his heart racing from the shock of the cold water and turned to the researcher.

“Are you alright?” he gasped out.

“I’m fine.” She seemed a little dazed before noticing the tear in his suit and widening her eyes. “Your suit?”

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged off. “Let just get you out of here.”

She looked at him with uncertainty but complied, nonetheless. Oxygen wasn’t an issue, he doubted it would leak into his helmet to that extent before they got back to Thunderbird 4. He wasn’t stupid though, he knew the risks in these temperatures but the best thing to do would be to just finish the rescue as quickly as possible.

He started swimming with the researcher swimming behind him. None of the research team would have made it through the currents alone, the connecting cable pulled taunt every time and he ended up propelling himself and his passenger through the water. It was what he expected though, the required level of swimming ability you needed to obtain an underwater vehicle license was pretty low.

The swim was definitely harder this time though, the cold seeping into his suit seemed to be burning his skin and his limbs were feeling sluggish. It didn’t help that the rip was near his chest, it would be reducing his core body temperature a lot faster. He was surprised John wasn’t already screaming at him.

His muscles were burning by the time he was able to latch on to his bird and he took a second to catch his breath before opening the outer hatch. He let the researcher in before him and gave a sigh as the water drained out of the compartment. Usually he’d be completely dry under the suit at this point but the soaked fabric clung to him and he shivered violently.

He secured the last researcher with her colleagues, leaving them with a reassuring smile, that probably wasn’t vey reassuring considering how bad his teeth were chittering, before heading to the cockpit and letting out a sigh. He was freezing.

“Thunderbird 4, your suit readings are showing a sharp decline in body temperature. What’s your status?”

John had popped up on the comm, his brow furrowed. Gordon was feeling pretty rubbish but he didn’t want to distract his brother if Scott still needed help.

“I’m okay Thunderbird 5, go help Scott.” He assured.

“Scott’s fine Gordon, he’s back on Tracy Island now. What’s your status?”

Gordon sighed in relief, realising he’d been holding on to some stress about his brothers situation subconsciously.

“My suit was compromised while in the water John.” He reported. “I may be in the beginning stages of hypothermia.” He replied sheepishly.

What he didn’t expect was an amused smirk from John and the questioning tone. “Hypothermia?”

Gordon was confused now, he was in the Arctic Ocean with a ripped dry suit, of course he was hypothermic. He must have let some of that confusion show on his face because John just shook his head and muttered. “It doesn’t matter, just know Virgil is not going to be happy.”

“Can you make it to the drop-off point?” John asked him, changing the subject.

Gordon was still confused at his brothers questioning but replied. “Yeah, I’m only 20 minutes off the port, but I may need a pick-up from there.”

“FAB Gordon, I’ll notify Virgil. Let me know if it gets any worse.”

“Thanks John.”

***

“And then Virgil came to rescue me and brought the warmth with him.” Gordon ended, snuggling down into his pile of blankets and heat pads.

“John called me exactly 30 seconds after I had got Scott settled and treated for heatstroke telling me that you had hypothermia and needed a picked up.” Virgil interjected shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“You know you love us.” Gordon grinned and Virgil was glad the colour seemed to be coming back to his cheeks. He repositioned the heat packs that had fallen out of place during his brother’s theatrical hand gestures.

Scott groaned. “Urghh, just looking at those heat pads is making want to throw up again.”

“Again? I think it’s story time for you now big brother.” Gordon piqued up.

Now it was Scott’s turn to look sheepish. “Wellll I was in Mongolia helping with earthquake evacuations and bear in mind here that this rescue took over 10 hours”

***

“Okay John, I’m moving on to Sector G now.”

“What? Scott you just finished searching Sector G.”

“Oh. Sector…” Scott had to do a quick run through of the alphabet to figure out what came next. “…H then. Sector H.”

John noticed the pause.

“There is no Sector H Scott. You’re done.”

“Uh…Great. I’ll head back to One then” Scott said looking around about him. He was glad to be done, he’d had a pretty bad headache for a couple of hours now but it had started to subside.

John frowned at him but replied anyway. “FAB Scott.”

Scott slowly made his way back to his bird. He was desperately looking forward to a nice long, cool shower when he got home. It had been a long day and he technically hadn’t needed to stay past the last aftershock but the local aid services just didn’t have the equipment they did. It was a much faster evacuation with him helping. He had been out in the sun all day though and he could feel the heat on his face.

Gordon was so going to laugh at him for getting burnt and he could already hear Virgil’s lecture on wearing sun cream.

“Scott, where are you going?” John questioned as he popped up on his watch.

Scott looked around himself. He had no idea where he was going. Huh.

“Uh, I might be a little lost Thunderbird 5.”

John frowned at him again. One of those frowns that said you’re acting weird.

“I’ll send through coordinates.”

“Thanks John.”

His brother signed off again. Scott knew Gordon was on another rescue so he didn’t bother his space-bound brother again, even though it took him way longer to calculate a path from the coordinates than it should have.

Finally setting eyes on his bird was a relief. The insulated metal encasing that promised a cool environment inside. Except when he did step inside, and the cool air hit him, all that greeted him was a strong feeling of nausea. He barely had time to grab a bin bag before he was emptying the contents of his stomach into it. He sank down onto his knees and heaved over the bag as the feeling failed to pass.

“-ott what’s wrong?” He finally registered.

Bringing his arm up he was met with a worried looking John which managed to shake him out of the nauseous daze he’d ended up in.

“John. M’fine.” He mumbled. It didn’t even sound convincing to himself.

He pushed himself off the floor but was met with worrying double vision before it tunnelled and he ended up on his knees again, slumping sideways into the wall of his bird, trying to blink the spots out of his eyes.

“You’re not fine, Scott. Stay down.” John ordered. “When did this start?”

Scott sighed, moving to sit with his back against the wall, resigned to his fate as John quizzed him. He was usually pretty good at pretending to be fine but not being able to stand up was a bit of a giveaway.

“I don’t know John. When I got to my bird, I just felt really ill.”

John’s lips pursed but his attention got pulled to something on his left.

“Hang on Scott, it’s Gordon.” He made to blink away but turned back warning. “Don’t move.”

Scott started to stand up as soon as his brother was gone. In his defence, he did take it very slow this time. He leaned heavily against the wall as he stood, breathing deeply to try and dispel the nausea. His skin was tight and irritated, he rested his cheek against the cool metal of his bird and sighed at the relief it provided. His skin was on fire. That probably gave him an indication of what was making him feel sick. Virgil was going to murder him.

He stumbled up to the cockpit and sat down heavily in the pilots chair. John popped up on the dash.

“Scott. What did I say?”

Scott just smiled innocently. “Sorry bro.”

John growled in annoyance. “It’s not funny Scott. You could have passed out and hit your head. And you are not flying home.”

“John I’m fine.” Scott tried to reassure. “It was just a dizzy spell.”

“Scott, I am remote flying One home and Virgil is going to be waiting for you at the other end to take you to the infirmary because we are pretty sure you have heatstroke.”

Yeah he was pretty sure on that as well so he just groaned and leaned his head back against the chair. He tried closing his eyes but the world spun around him every time he did so he focused on a spot on the roof and fought to keep the contents of his stomach as John flew him home.

***

“Ha! You’re way more of a screw up than me.” Gordon boasted as soon as Scott was finished. “I’m here because of an unavoidable accident whereas you’re here cause you’re just an idiot.”

Scott scoffed at the statement but Virgil just raised his eyes in amusement. At Scott’s look of betrayal he stated. “What? He’s not wrong.”

“Virgil I was busy!”

“Not too busy to take care of yourself. All you’ve accomplished is John having to monitor your sun exposure and water intake from now on.”

“John doesn’t have time for that.”

“Exactly! So, stop making it a necessity.”

Scott huffed in frustration but Virgil just glared at him. He could see Gordon out of the corner of his eye itching to break the awkward silence but he gave his brother a slight shake of his head. He was not letting Scott get away with this one. He could understand one mistake but this was not the first time this had happened. Scott needed a reminder that they were not invincible, especially to the forces of nature.

He was pretty sure that in Scott’s mind the only dangers were the stuff that could actually hit you. That’s why Virgil had to be the one that watched out for the more subtle heath concerns of their job but he was tired of Scott not listening to him.

“Okay.” Scott finally conceded. “I’m sorry, I was being stupid.”

“Good.” Virgil nodded, accepting the statement. He was pretty sure that was all he was going to get out of his stubborn eldest brother.

Scott flopped his arms over his eyes and Virgil winced, knowing Scott probably had a horrible headache at the moment.

“The ice in those packs has probably melted by now. I’ll swap them out.” Virgil reasoned heading to the door so he could replenish their supply of ice from the kitchen.

“Good idea, I feel like a furnace.” Scott replied, arms still covering his face and mumbling his words slightly.

“That’s it.” Gordon suddenly declared. “I’m coming over to cuddle.”

Scott deadpanned him. “We are not cuddling Gordon.”

Gordon was already climbing out of his own bed though, keeping one of his blankets clutched tightly around him as he shivered. “Too late. Gimme some of that heat”

Virgil just laughed as he swiftly made his exit. It honestly wasn’t the worst idea in the world. He could still hearing his brothers bickering as he walked down the hall though.

“Just so you know, I kick in my sleep.”

“Gordon get off my bed!”

[beccarooni]

Hi! I am a shy but keen followers of yours. Just a few words to tell you just how much I enjoy your works and to send you my most heartfelt thanks for them. I know I have no right to demand more of your generous efforts, but please take heart and keep going, we really appreciate It! As to what I would like to read, this is an easy one: more Thor h/c, pretty please?

(A.N: Hey, thank you so much for suggesting this! I’m sorry it took me so long to get around to it, but I hope this is ok! It’s an alternate take on the ending of Age of Ultron - inspired by A Long Way Down by TDFawkes on ao3.)

Hulk didn’t think he truly had his mind made up about the whole ‘leaving earth behind’ thing until the sky began to fall. Until the rocks and rubble began to create waves in an otherwise still ocean, until the lasers and lightning and sparks flew - a morbid painting of light across the afternoon sky. 

It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered the idea before - the idea of being unnatural. He knew he was, and he was fine with that. Banner could hate him, Earth could hate him - he didn’t care. He didn’t come out often enough to care about these people - at least, that’s what he told himself. Part of him maybe knew that was a lie, but that was a part he could blame on Bruce. The sentimental side. 

The human side. 

He liked the team, that wasn’t the problem. At least, not exactly. But it seemed that he only liked the team - or, they only liked him - when he could be of use. When it was smokey and bloody and the battleground unfurled below their feet. Outside of that, they weren’t exactly pleased to see him the rare times he reared his head.

Always pleased to see Banner, though. 

And that was why he had stayed. 

Because Banner, like it or not, had a life here. He had friends, he shared a multibillion dollar laboratory with Tony Stark, he ate lunch with Black Widow, he got interplanetary selfies from the God of Thunder. Hulk might not have been missed from the Earth, but it had gotten to the point where Bruce Banner was a loss that many wouldn’t be able to take. 

Until Johannesburg. And then it seemed that the years of cultivating a life, the years of peace, of friendship - it didn’t seem to matter. People wanted both of them dead - again. Natasha Romanoff had pushed Bruce off of a ledge, Sokovians ran and the sky burned, and Hulk made up his mind.

He could leave this place. All of it. 

Protecting Banner used to mean staying with the team. But now, it seemed like it was starting to mean leaving it. 

Part of him was sad - maybe. Part of him was relieved. Part of him was worried about how Banner would react to all of this , but he was surprised to note that he wasn’t exactly angry. He was...accepting. This was the way their world ended - with fire, and metal, and one last victory and then he would leave. 

But, as per the usual, their world had different plans for them. 

He’d turned away from the wreckage of the city, towards where the quin-jet lay idle, and had been so close to leaving it all behind - when something caught his eye. 

A streak of crimson, a flash of gold, a hammer falling from a strong grasp turned limp. 

Thor had fallen into the water , and for a few moments, Hulk teetered on the edge of oblivion. Because the quin-jet was there, it was right behind him, he was free. He was close to knowing what freedom meant, and surely someone would show up and haul Thor out of the water without needing him.

Stark would fly into the water, or Cap, or maybe strands of red magic would lift the demi-god from the oceans grasp - whoever. It didn’t matter, someone would save him. Someone that wasn’t him. 

But no one came. 

He paused, idly kicking at the floor and watching the dust rise and swirl in the wind, waiting for the water to break. The Demigod wasn’t helpless, he knew how to swim. He could get out by himself. He didn’t need Hulk, no one did. 

He counted to ten six times. A minute. A minute without Thor breaking the surface, without someone flying in to save him, without him saving himself. 

Hulk didn’t know how to feel about the God of Thunder, not really. He didn’t think anyone on the team did. Because, Thor could drink as many cups of coffee as he pleased, eat as many slices of pizza or watch as many soap-operas on the TV - but that wouldn’t make him human. He didn’t show up all that often - aside from when there was a fight, and people were cautious around him and the strength he wielded. 

In his way, he was a little bit too much like Hulk, and that made Hulk nervous. They didn’t talk about their shared experiences much. Sure, Thor seemed happy when he was fighting alongside him, but he seemed happy with everyone. 

It wasn’t fair that Thor could be so similar to him, but so different. Could get along with people, could be stopped for photographs in the street, could get smiles from Bruce instead of contempt. 

And that was the crux of it all, really. Why he was hesitating to dive in, but still hesitating to leave, still waiting on the cliffside, kicking at rocks. 

Bruce liked Thor. Thor liked Bruce. They were two sides of an equation, two planets orbiting around a sun. They played their games, dancing around the topic, keeping their distances - but Hulk knew Bruce. 

Hulk was supposed to protect Bruce. And if the last thing Bruce saw of Earth was someone he liked, plummeting into the ocean, and knowing that Hulk didn’t try to save him…

That wasn’t protecting. 

The oceans scared Hulk, in a way that he didn’t like to admit. They were too vast, too deep, too unknown and dark and uncertain. Bruce liked them. The Doctor liked discovery, peering into the voids of space and sea with a lantern to cast away the shadows. He’d always had a knack for it, for discovery. For reaching into the depths of knowledge and pulling something out - an idea, a theory, a life changing piece of whatever he was doing for whoever he was doing it for. 

Hulk took a breath, plunging into the water, the fire and brimstone of the world above fading into the background as his hands began to search. 

He didn’t know what Thor thought of the oceans, but he knew that this most likely wasn’t something the Demigod would enjoy. If Thor was anything like him, then he would like warmth. The crushing pressure and the falling debris and the cold, cold currents - they weren’t him. They weren’t them. 

A small nagging feeling of fear began to claw at Hulk’s chest as his hands continued to grab blindly, and find nothing. Left in the cold for too long, a fire would extinguish. A fact from Bruce hovered in his mind - for a flame to live, it needed oxygen, fuel, and heat. A 3 bit recipe for life, drawn up in a neat whiteboard triangle. Thor needed heat. Thor needed him, and if he couldn’t find him, then something was going to happen. 

One of the few embers that could hope to match Hulk’s fire would be gone. 

One of the few people that still cared enough to backtrack and stumble over post-battle comforts would be gone. 

Thor would be gone. Lost and alone in the deep, unable to come home. An asteroid, crashing to earth, unable to return to its place among the star-speckled skies. 

Hulk’s lungs were beginning to burn, when his hand met something familiar. Smooth fabric, weighed down by the water, but the bright red still apparent enough to cut through the blue of the sea. And attached to its tail, was the comet itself. 

Blue eyes closed, blond hair weightless, and golden skin pale under what little sunlight reached them here - but there. 

He wrapped his arms tight around the Demigods middle, tucking him closely to his side, and began to kick. The debris was still falling, but it was no match for his strength. Piles of concrete and half-broken ultron bots sank past him, and he continued to rise. Up towards the sun. Up towards the heat, the land, the air and the sky and somewhere closer to home. 

Hulk broke the surface, roaring with effort as he finally landed onto the shore, still cradling his star in his arms. 

He knelt down, slowly, depositing Thor on the ground as best as he could - hovering over him to try and gauge some sense of life. 

Thor’s skin was cold against his fingertip. And he couldn’t exactly tell beneath the thick layers of armour, but it didn’t seem like he was breathing. 

Hulk bent a little closer, lifting the still-sparking communicator from below the Demigod’s ear. 

“Thor...Ultron…-Read me?” 

Garbled words spilled out of the device, in a voice that sounded a little like the Captain - but it was too crackly for Hulk to be able to find something recognisable. 

“West of crater,” Hulk grumbled, cradling the electronic in his palm. “Come get Blondie.”

“Hulk? Is everything-?”

“Come get Blondie.” He repeated, tossing the device to the ground, and once again bending over the unconscious form below him. 

Something stirred in the back of his mind. He wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but he knew how to listen to instructions by now. Knowledge he didn’t remember acquiring lifted his hand, and he pressed it with some force against Thor’s chest. 

Once. Twice. Three times.

Three turned to ten and ten turned to thirty and suddenly, the sky above him split open. A low grumble of thunder answered his call, and Thor twisted below him, hacking coughs spraying water onto the concrete below, one armour-clad hand flailing out and finding a comforting grip against Hulk’s arm. 

He allowed his hand to rest against Thor’s shoulder blades for just a few seconds, turning his gaze towards the skies. 

The quin-jet was moving, and his window was closing. Thor was safe - and that could be his ticket. He’d done something nice for Banner, and now, it was time for something nice for him. His last action here had been something good, and maybe that would be enough to placate Bruce when he next surfaced.

Maybe.

But probably not. 

Hulk got to his feet, gently prying Thor’s hand from his wrist, setting it carefully onto the ground. 

He didn’t know where he was going to go, out in the stars, but he hoped it was somewhere warm. Somewhere near a star, a sun. Somewhere where a comet could find them, someday.

[loki-fanfic-whore]

Consumed ch.2

Loki tries to help the newest Avenger control her powers.

Warnings: bad head space, negative thought, adult situations,possible torture scenes, possible mature sexual scenes, Cussing

@onceuponagleepottermindlock @drakesfiance @iloveyouthreethousand-o6

Chapter 2: Submerged

"I need you to strip...please." he spoke softly again trying not to embarrass you. Your breath hitched as you began to shed clothing. You were standing mostly exposed in just your undergarments. You thought of all of your flaws and imperfections now on display for him to see. Your wrapped your arms across your midsection trying to hide. Loki removed his tunic exposing his alabaster chiseled chest and you backed away.

"Loki- I can't do this...we can't-"

"Shhhh little flame. I am simply trying to take precautions in case I need to cool you down. I promise I am not trying to trick you and I would never touch you without consent....I want you to close your eyes and focus on my voice." He was circling you now and you felt like a cornered animal. Ragged breaths coming from you as you tried to calm.

"Focus now...when I count to three I want you to give your mind to me..relax and allow me to take control. I am going to count to three now. One....two...three....you are a child again...on the evening that man appeared. Think back now." He kept his voice deep and soft. You could feel the numbness beginning. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you envisioned that night. Your parents screaming, the snow catching on your eyelashes as you froze...his eyeless sockets surrounded by blackness oozing black liquid.

You didn't realize it but you were trembling as Loki continued to watch.

"Tell me, what did he look like? What did he say? Tell me what you see..." he gently pushed you forward.

"He- he is a man...I think...he is covered in inky fluid...it drips off him like-like oil...he is staring at me- oh god- he is staring right at me!" You let a sob escape as you took a step back. Your arm instinctively rising to block his eyes from seeing through you.

"Focus! What did he say?" Loki commanded in a low voice. You watched as his lips curled into a smile.

"He's smiling at me...he he is walking up to me...he is so tall...no! Dont touch me! Stay-stay away!" You scream taking another step back.

"FOCUS! What is he saying?!" Loki roared.

You grasped at your throat and stumbled as tears slid down your cheeks dripping onto the floor. Loki watched as from your wrists and throat the black began to ebb across your flesh.

"Let it consume you child. Let it take all of you." You spoke in a voice that wasn't yours. It was a deep hoarse male voice.

"Wait that's not right-" Loki stepped forward quickly, but halted. You were standing staring at him with solid black eyes. The blackness was pulsing under your skin in inky veins.

"Let it consume me." You whispered and smiled before putting a finger to your lips to shush him. Your body consumed in fire; It roared uncontrollably above you catching the ceiling on fire.

"NO!" Loki screamed as alarms sounded and the sprinklers cut on, stagnant black water sprayed everywhere soaking the room. Loki grabbed you and held you to him, his body no longer creamy white but deep blue and against your body trying to cool your steaming skin. You sputtered and blinked your eyes.

"Darling? Little flame?" Loki shook you gently wiping the water and hair from your face. Even though you had caught fire you were untouched by the flame except your clothing which was now burned off..

Sputtering you opened your eyes to stare into his worried red orbs.

"L-Loki?" You whimpered.

"Shhh- it's okay my pet. Its gonna be okay." He cooed and held you to him. The sprinklers had stopped. Being soaking wet, naked and against a Jotun, it had caused you to begin to shiver, your teeth clacking.

"What the FUCK is going on here?!" Tony burst in followed by the rest of the gang.

"Brother! What have you done with sister Ember?" Thor ran forward unhooking his Cape and pulling you from Loki's arms wrapping you to cover your modesty. You felt so drained, so exposed. Loki stood and allowed himself to revert to his normal skin tone.

"Well it would seem our lovely ..flame...here is actually a child of another realm...Brother, she descends from Muspellheim..." Loki grabbed his soaked tunic and put it back on. Thor's eyes widdened.

"Loki- she can't"

"And yet she is." Loki spoke curtly pulling you from Thor's arms.

"Can someone please FUCKING EXPLAIN why my training room caught FIRE?!? In good old American ENGLISH." A vein was popping out in Tony's forehead. Natasha was looking from Thor to Loki to you in his arms.

Thor looked to the group.

"You know how Loki is 'Jotun'? Meaning a Frost giant?...she" he points to you as you continue to shiver in Loki's arms.

"Is a fire giant. She would be very useful if she could hone her skills-" you went limp in Loki's arms. Natasha frowned and stepped forward to examine you.

"Bruce? Maybe you should check her out. She is very pale and seems to be- oh God. She is convulsing! Bruce quick!" She pushes Loki out of the training room towards the medical bay. Your head lolling in every direction like a rag doll as your muscles contract. Loki gently places you on the steel examination table. His eyes full of worry.

"Loki what happened before the fire?" Bruce asks as he draws up medicine in a syringe.

"She was trying to describe the day she first changed...then she...caught fire." Loki couldn't help but feel the slightest bit guilty. After all he had pushed you too far. You weren't ready and now you were seizing. Bruce injected you with the medicine and your tremoring body calmed and stilled. Natasha turned to Loki and glared.

"Why was she naked? Why were you half naked?" She began to interrogate him. Loki snarled.

"This is hardly the time for you to prattle on about her and me." Natasha slammed him against the wall her arm under his chin blocking his throat.

"This is exactly the time you insensible prick." Tony piped up. He looked at your limp form and it dawned on him you may not survive whatever the fuck Loki did to you and voilitle or not you were still part of the team.

Loki slid away from her death grip and straightened his tunic. He slicked his hair back with one hand and sighed.

"I needed to watch her...change...Fire and ice will always cancel each other out. I didn't expect her to...combust..." he glared at Natasha and then Bruce

"Hey now, I didn't do a damn thing to you. I am trying to save her life though, so be nice to me." Bruce spoke as he held a flashlight and lifted one of your eyelids. He gasped.

"Uhh..Loki? Why is her eye black?" He took a step back as your body became covered in swirls of smoke.

"Get out. Now!" Loki snarled at them as you sat up and opened your eyes. No one moved as they stared in awe. Both eyes were solid black orbs and inky black tears began to stream down your cheeks.

"Jesus christ!" Tony cried as Loki moved to you quickly trying to hold you. The black liquid was coating your skin and quickly covering everything.

"Look at me..." Loki spoke softly as you whimpered looking up into his eyes. He was no longer suave or cheeky. He was terrified and you could tell. You opened your mouth in a silent scream as a battle raged in your head. you were fighting for dominance.

"I need you to just relax. Try not to fight it." Loki spoke gently as he held your arms down. You screamed as the black pulsed under your skin. Every beat of your heart burned you more and more.

"I- I'M BURNING" you screamed as your body exploded with flames. Loki flying from you to smack the floor.

"Jesus fucking christ!" Tony screamed as Thor rushed to his brother who was still on his back. he was singed and burnt all over.

Bruce grabbed a fire blanket from the cabinet and tried to cover you. To smother your flame. You screamed hoarsely as you felt your body erupting from within.

"Let it consume you. Let it have all of you." The voice growled inside your head. The alarms blared again as the sprinklers cut on. The abundance of water beginning to flood the medical bay and squelch the flames. You fell off the table splashing into the few inches that had collected on the ground with a seering hiss. Going in and out of consciousness you shivered as steam rolled off your unscathed flesh.

"Quick! Get her into a tank downstairs!" Tony cried. Loki jumped up and held out his hands.

"No! If you put her in restraints she will die!" He hissed. He knew all too well what shield did to those they couldn't control.

"I'm sorry brother....but the man of iron is right. Sister ember needs to stay in a tank...at least until we can help her control this." Thor picked up your trembling unconscious body and carried you away with Tony following behind. Loki tried to RIP your fragile frame from his arms but Clint, Bruce, and Natasha held him back. Bruce placed the manacles that waned his seidr on Loki's wrists behind his back. Loki snarled and ripped free from their grips.

"How dare you! She isn't some animal you can cage and control! She-she isn't a monster!" He was screaming now his own memories flooding back of the stories of the jotun... how he grew up hating what he was.

Tony placed the special mouth piece into your mouth and clasped it around your head, fastening it tightly in the back. Blood dribbled from where it bit into your flesh. It blocked your mouth keeping your jaw in a permanent state of half open but it didn't impede the rest of your face. It reminded him of Loki's muzzle, but yours functioned to keep you alive supplying you with oxygen and filtering your blood supply so food and water were not needed. Thor ascended to the top of the ladder and gently let you slide out of his arms and into the water. You sank to the bottom still unconscious but breathing through the apparatus in your mouth. Your wrists were encircled in cuffs that connected you to the bottom of the tank. You would be able to move, but not swim to the surface of the tank. They needed to make sure you were secure. Thor sighed and closed the top of the tank, locking it. He descended the stairs and turned to look at your unconcious form upon the bottom of the clear blue liquid. He knew he was hurting Loki by doing this, but you needed time to control whatever was happening. An uncontrollable fire giant would reign nothing but destruction upon anything it touched.

Upon returning to the now drained lab Thor nodded and let Loki pass into the common room but kept him in his manacles. He didn't need him interfering with your treatment. Loki glared daggers at his brother.

"Take me to her." He hissed.

"I cannot allow that. Brother Fury knows of her origins. He will not allow her visitors. Not until she is well again." Thor gently pushed Loki to his room.

"You mean until they decide what to do with her! Who told him?!" Loki was snarling and damn near ravenous. They had locked you away unfairly simply because they were scared. You were no monster. You didn't deserve this.

"Brother Tony made the call....it is in your best interest to forget Sister ember for now. You need rest and a shower I am sure." Loki growled. Forget you? How could he forget you? With your bewitching laugh and beautiful eyes? How could he forget your cheeky wit and incessant need to trump him in every competition....no he could never forget you....

"Yes...brother mine...perhaps you are right." Loki sighed. No. He wouldnt forget you...he needed to find you...

He retreated into his room and sighed again looking at the manacles. They stifled his seidr rendering him damn near useless. He began to undress, ripping his burnt tunic off and got into a cold shower. His mind trying hard to will you okay. He knew you would be terrified once you awoke...if you weren't awake already. He closed his eyes and tried hard to use his seidr to see you....nothing but darkness filled his mind.

Your eyes jerked open as you gasped. Your jaw was locked around a device that bit into your lips and jaw. You struggled only to realize you were suspended in water, your hair flowing around your head as you thrashed. You tried to scream but it came out as muffled bubbles under the water. You could see but everything was hazy. You swam upward until your wrists snapped back jerking you down. You were shackled to the bottom of this-this fish bowl! You sank down a bit and looked around frantically. Two armed men in solid black stood at the doorway. Everything else around your tank was smooth stainless steel. Fury stood infront of you smoking a cigerette.

"Jesus fucking christ..." he said shaking his head. You swam to the wall of the tank and gently smacked it. Your eyes pleading.

"Please....let me go." You tried to speak but the respirator blocked the words. Fury sighed and stood facing you.

"From now until we can find a cure. You are quarantined for your and our safety....you are to remain here until further notice." He spoke coldly but his eyes gave away his exhaustion and contrite. You began uselessly crying.

"No!" You muffled at him banging on the tank fruitlessy.

"I'm sorry..." Fury said before turning and walking away. The soldiers followed him out leaving you alone in the cold abyss that was your new home. You wrapped your arms around your midsection, your eyes widening as you realize you were still naked. Tears mixed with the water as you sobbed and sank to the bottom of the tank. You were a monster...hidden away from the world because you were too dangerous.

"Loki..." you whimpered out knowing it fell on deaf ears. You prayed that he would come.

Your jaw was already aching and your stomach rumbled. You closed your eyes tight and reached up to your face to feel the thing in your mouth. It felt like a fucking ball gag, but the outside was a smooth cold metal. It had small slits in the sides of it, for the air to escape you were sure, but as you felt the edges you winced. Your jaw was sore from this thing being half buried in your cheeks. It must be connected to you to keep you alive or as some kind of torture device...or both... Your mind was reeling and you felt yourself trying to gasp for air as a panic attack consumed you. You were going to die here....you would die naked and alone chained down in a fucking fishtank...you thought of Loki and how he would try to calm you. You could almost hear his voice.

'Shhhh little flame. Breathe in....and out...in...and out..' your brain was trying to adapt ....but you wished so desperately that Loki would come soon and save you.

[katedrakeohd]

One Handsome Devil (TRR)

Masterlist

Chapter 50 : Part 2

_Recovery_

Kate opens her eyes to a world of grey, feeling groggy and disoriented. The oxygen mask hissed as she breathed, the rubber bands that hooked it behind her ears pinched her skin. As her eyes focused she realized she was in a hospital room. The soft beep of her heart monitor filtered in as her other senses came awake. Lifting her right hand she sees the IV tube in the back of her hand and the electronic sensor clamped to her finger. When she tried to move her other arm it wouldn't budge. Oh my God, what's happening? Why does my shoulder ache so much?

The monitor attached to her finger starts to beep rapidly, registering her growing panic and the thumping of her heart. Her warm breath clouds the mask as she gulps at the cool air filling her lungs, her tears sting her eyes and her cheeks.

She hears the hurried footsteps of someone approaching and then the curtain surrounding her bed is ripped aside. The kind sympathetic face of a young female intern swims into view.

"Easy there Miss Darling, everything is going to be ok." She says, soothingly.

Adjusting the bed and pillows so Kate can sit up, she gently pulls the mask off her face and then dabs at her face with the corner of the bedsheet.

Kate gives her a weak smile of gratitude as she looks up at her nametag.  "Th-..thankyou...Dr. Maloney." she whispers.

Kate's head was full of questions, Where am I? Where is Drake?  Is he Ok?  What happened to me in the accident?

"Where am I?" She asks as she looks at the sling on her left shoulder and the cast on her arm.

Dr. Maloney smiles, "You're at Portavira General Hospital."

Kate frowns, looking around for anyone familiar, suddenly feeling very alone. "Portavira?" where the hell is that?  "I'm not in the Capital?"

The intern shakes her head, picking up her chart. "You were brought here by helicopter."

Kate has a vague memory of being strapped to a stretcher and being lifted. Then the airsick woozy feeling of being moved around randomly like a bad amusement ride.

Sliding her hand over her belly, it feels bloated and there are bandages that scrape against her hospital gown.

"What..what were my injuries?" Kate asks nervously, scared of the answer.

The doctor reads her chart out loud, bypassing the medical jargon and putting things in words Kate would understand, "Uh let's see, a dislocated shoulder, a fracture to the forearm, and a minor tearing of the uterine wall from blunt trauma. You were bleeding out pretty badly, but with a minor surgery they were able to stitch you up and stop the bleeding."

Kate gasps, "A tearing of my what?" 

Terrifying thoughts of future infertility and miscarriage race through her mind, causing a deep feeling of dread. She and Drake had just talked about how much they wanted children.

Dr. Maloney looked up from the chart, noticing that Kate has gotten a little paler, and her eyes were wide with worry. "Don't worry, the womb is very resilient. It takes a beating from the inside for several months while it holds onto a fetus. You'll heal just fine and be able to try for another baby in a few weeks."

Kate grips the sheet over her belly, scoffing with denial, "Another baby? I wasn't pregnant."

Sure I was late, but that was nothing new. But then again the last time I was late I didn't have a boyfriend. Oh my God no..

"According to your bloodwork and a urine sample there was a slight elevation in your hormone levels, and the presence of HCG. But there was only a trace amount so we can't be totally sure at this point. I'm sorry to alarm you. The nature of your bleeding prompted us to assume a miscarriage, and we tested for signs of pregnancy in your bloodwork. Were you and your husband trying to conceive?"

Kate shakes her head trying to swallow, her throat was dry from the oxygen she had been administered. "Can..can I get a drink of water please?" She whispers.

The doctor lays the clipboard on the foot of the bed, "Oh sure, sorry about that. I know this is a lot to take in all at once."

Dr. Maloney pours her a cup of water from a nearby pitcher. Kate accepts it, her hand shaking slightly as she sips. "Thanks."

Picking up her chart again, Dr Maloney looks over her information. "You're a mystery  'Kate Darling, 25'  We have a lot of gaps to fill in. When you arrived we only had your name and age."

Kate takes another sip of water. "I was wondering how you knew my name. I don't remember telling anyone."

"I'm not sure who identified you, that's just what they were calling you when you were wheeled in."

Pulling over a chair, Dr. Maloney clicks her pen and then sits down with her chart. "Ok let's fill in the blanks. Your birthdate?"

"December 17th, 1992." Kate says, guessing that the fresh faced intern was around the same age based on the slight turning up of the corners of her mouth.

"Your address?"

Kate gnaws on her lip, "That's a good question, because I really don't know. I live at the Royal Palace with King Nicholas."

Dr. Maloney chuckles, "Yeah right. Seriously where do you live?"

"I'm not kidding. I live at the Royal Palace with the King and I'm engaged to his best friend." Kate insists, knowing that her story sounded crazy to the average person.

"Okaaay, we'll leave that space blank for now." The doctor says, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head. Seriously how hard did this girl hit her head?

"Who do I list as your next of kin?"

"Umm, well my parents live in the U.S. and Brazil so there's no point in listing them. I should probably say King Nicholas, where he's technically responsible for me being in the country, but there's no way I'm allowed to give out his personal phone number. If I told you any other name than my fiance he'd probably be mad, so list Drake Walker as my next of kin."

The Doctor scribbles his name on the form. "And his phone number?"

"He doesn't have a home phone, just a cell, is that Ok?"

The Doctor nods, waiting.

Kate rhymes off Drake's phone number. Damn I wish I could talk to him, tell him I'm Ok. Looking around the unfamiliar recovery room again, Kate feels incredibly lonely. She could really use a familiar face or voice right now.

"Before we can admit you we need to contact Mr. Walker to let him know where you are. As your next of kin he should know your condition as well."

Kate gives the doctor a grateful smile, "Is there any way I can talk to him? I don't have my phone with me."

Dr. Maloney nods, "Your condition is pretty stable. I'll go get you a wheel chair, and then I'll take you out to the nurse's station to call..." she looks down at the paper again to find his name.

"Drake." Kate replies, smiling.

"Yes, thanks." Dr. Maloney gets up from the chair. "Be right back."

Kate settles back against her pillows, looking down at her arm in its cast and sling, she smooths the blanket over her bandaged sore belly. Did we really have a baby in there? It's only been a few days, probably not. I was just late that's all. I hope the surgery doesn't leave a big scar.

She sees the Doctor coming back with the wheel chair. "Ok Miss Daisy, your chariot awaits."

Dr. Maloney drops the side of her hospital bed, disconnecting her pulse monitor from her finger and switching off the machine when the alarm goes off. Placing an arm around her back, and scooping her arm under her knees she carefully helps Kate turn to sit up on the side of the bed. "You're stronger than you look, Dr. Maloney." Kate laughs.

"I've had plenty of practice. Compared to moving a full grown man, you're light as a feather." She says, blushing at the compliment.

Kate eyes the smooth vinyl seat of the wheelchair and then looks down at her bare legs. "I'm guessing my fancy chariot doesn't have heated leather seat cushions."

Pulling the thermal blanket off the bed, Dr. Maloney folds it in half on the diagonal and lays it across the seat and back of the wheelchair. "That should help. Once you're aboard we can wrap the extra blanket around you like a shawl to keep you covered and preserve a little dignity."

"Awww, thanks Doc, that'll be perfect." Kate says with a grateful sigh of relief.

Once Kate is bundled up in her wheelchair, she wheels her IV pole along while Dr. Maloney pushes the chair. "What's your first name Doctor? If you don't mind me asking? You've been so nice to me I'd feel better if I could refer to you by your first name."

"Denise." She says, navigating Kate out to the nurses station.

Kate cuddles her blanket around herself as Denise talks to the nurse behind the counter. After they update her file in the computer the nurse picks up the receiver on the phone.

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[the-static-silence-of-pastels]

Can a Heart Still Love, Even If It’s Stopped Beating?

Word Count: 5900+ (written in 4hrs from 1-4 AM, have mercy on my grammar and mistakes.)

Warnings: Gore for a bit, then just a lot of angst with a sort of happy ending (depends on who you ask). Not sure if there are any other things I need to flag, so I’ll let you be the judge of that.

There’s an unscratchable itch within him. A little left of his spine, underneath the skin of his pectoral. It’s been there since that morning, but the build has been going on for months. The itch has reached what he assumes is its peak, but he knew he’d never be sure of that. God, he hopes this is the peak. This stupid itch, so hard to scratch and get rid of, that’s been leaving him frustrated for months. But it’s something he can’t reach, something buried under skin and bone.

He feels like screaming some days. Letting out all the fury trapped within that bides its time alongside the itch. And if the fury and frustration alone didn’t drive him to the brink of insanity, the feeling sure would. He can just imagine, though it’s not his forte, what is causing the itch. Maybe it’s some kind of abnormal vessel but going on for this long would mean his death. Perhaps it’s just a stupid prank that’s been left to simmer under his skin and drive him to the foulest of moods. Better yet it could be what it feels like; thousands of tiny insects crawling around, burrowing towards the skin as if they were…

He allows that thought to trail off. Such horrid conceptions are not his field, nor will they ever be. He is resolute in such things. And yet the feeling has only been building. It’s as if he’s dipping a toe, no, his torso into the river of madness that must flood Remus’ mind.

And right on cue the tinnitus appears. He never realised it before, but it seems to appear when his thoughts fade into that direction. The direction of seemingly inescapable insanity looped around mindless madness, entangling themselves like a series of knotted snakes. Twisting, writhing, slithering to escape, and yet unable to.

He feels a little lightheaded. Maybe death has finally come for him and will spare him of this horrid itching. Or maybe it’s just his imagination. Either way he would welcome a death right now. It’s as if he can see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing, and yet the ringing intensifies tenfold and the itching, oh the itching, the scraping of whatever inside is causing such discomfort-

‘Hey, Mensa dropout! Your line.’

Right, that’s right. The video.

‘You can’t…you can’t drop out of Mensa. Mensa isn’t a school or a college, you can’t drop out of it. Are you talking about that album by MC Motyčka?’

‘At least we got you back, cicada three-three-oh-snore. And no, I wasn’t. Just read the damn lines.’

Yeah, like that isn’t a chore right now. Where are we, where-are-we, wherearewe? Ah, there. Now I just have to make the words stop swimming. Line up, line up. Damn it. And he’s tapping his foot, of course. Look if you think you’ve got troubles, try being me prince bull-

‘Are you sure these are my lines?’

He looks so angry. Oh, like you’re such a peach to work with.

‘Yes. They are your lines.’

Lots of emphasis. Must be pretty pissed off. I don’t think I can do this right now. Let’s see if Patton’s pity card will get me out of this.

‘I don’t exactly feel up to par. Could we perhaps-’

‘Oh teach, what’s wrong? What’s got you feeling so bad? Are you sick? What’s up?’

Nice, now here come the questions. I can do this, just get them off the trail.

‘I’m in perfect health. I just think that, especially at this time, it may be a good point for us to turn in. It’s far past when we usually stop, and we can pick up perfectly well tomorrow morning. I don’t see why we must record so much tonight. And as the prince of perfectionism, I thought it a good point to bring up.’

God, he looks so infuriated. Serves you right for cutting my lines, bastard.

‘Fine, fine! We’ll pick it up tomorrow, but you better be on your game, Logan.’

‘Will do, Roman.’

Ah tension, how I have missed you. Didn’t feel like a real day until you showed your ugly, repulsive, disgusting face.

He lets his shoulders drop minutely, all the better to seem like he’s actually tired. He won’t be able to sleep though. The itch is too bad today, if he tried there’d be absolutely no way, he’d get further than laying on his bed in a mass of writhing agony.

But agony would be the right word, wouldn’t it? The itch has grown, quickly and unlike any of the other days. Now the itch has manifested itself as a burning, but that’s growing and evolving from a burning to an intense jabbing, like something is poking the inside of his skin and tracing the tip of a dagger over something so incredibly sensitive that he can’t quite quantify how painful it’s becoming and that’s a problem because emotions aren’t his forte and he can’t show pain and he can’t show weakness and-

Enough. He needs to get out before they notice something is amiss. Clean up this mess, turn off the camera and make sure everything is neat and tidy before running away from this like all his other problems. He doesn’t need their pity, their worry, all of that will only morph into concern over his position. He’ll become redundant in a heartbeat if they find out he’s imagining pains and itching under his skin. It can’t be right because imagination isn’t his forte, and none of this lines up with who he is.

But it could go the other way. They’d coddle him – Patton and Virgil – and he’d get nothing done. Not like he’d been getting anything done anyway; but that’s for him to know, not for them to know. He’d never tell them though; they’d find out over his dead body. Or whatever happens when the pain stops. Death. Maybe he’ll live, but that’s not so likely. Pain is usually fatal. At least in most cases, but he has justifiable reasons to be worried for himself.

No use being morbid. Remus would be just as upset as Roman if he knew you were stepping on his turf.

‘L?’ Was he too quiet? Virgil doesn’t speak up often and when he does, and with that sort of accusation in his eyes, it’s usually important. And if anyone else hears they might pay attention. But what clues would he have to accuse him of something being amiss. No, Virgil had nothing. No proof of anything.

‘You good? You’ve been staring at that camera for, like, a full minute. Mind somewhere else?’ thank whatever God they prayed to.

‘Fine, sorry, got a little lost in thought. Something I can help you with?’ please say no, please say no. Let me off this one time so I can get over this pain and be ready for tomorrow and this stupid script.

Virgil shook his head just a little, but it was enough of a wary gesture to warrant a head tilt before he had turned around and sunk out. He felt like sighing for that.

Camera, away. Good my part all done. Let’s motor.

God that’s painful.

He’d never really been big on praying, but right about now felt like a good time to make amends as the pain ascended quickly from pricking and burning to an almighty searing. It wasn’t quite to the level of him wanting to rip his skin off, but it was getting close. Not quite screaming to the high heavens, but around the stage of tugging at his hair with no end in sight.

Maybe it’s something on my chest. Just get it off and take a look. That was what he’d tell himself and then never have the courage to do. He couldn’t really blame himself, but then again, he could. It was his mind after all. He could do whatever he wanted.

God, he sounded crazy.

Okay, yeah no. That was not good. The pain had intensified tenfold in the space of a few seconds and he was at that stage of ripping out his own hair and allowing tears to slip down his face. His breathing grew heavy, the ringing came back, everything fading out to black though he was still conscious.

The torturous pain was synonymous with nothing else he’d ever felt before. Greater than breaking a bone and enough to make him loose and not be able to regain his breath. How anyone was able to survive this was beyond him. It was like someone had taken a metal sea urchin to his chest and was pressing it into his skin from within, rolling it around inside that cavity that housed his heart and lungs. Burning, ripping, blinding pain. At least they got one part right in songs and stories, it was blinding. Blacked out vision aside, he could still feel the ground beneath him, feel his shirt and tie and clothing. Time to find out what was making it so damn hard to breathe. If it wasn’t something on his chest, maybe he could see something within his chest.

After ripping his tie away and bunching his shirt up and over his head he had a moment of clarity as his glasses fell off, able to pick them up with precisely no spots in his line of sight. For a moment he felt relief, but that quickly faded as he summoned a mirror, heard a loud gagging behind him and saw straight through the heart shaped hole in his chest as behind him Roman doubled over in shock and horror.

That would explain the lack of breath.

Yeah, the bleeding, still wet hole shaped like a heart symbol that cut right through his chest and out the back, taking out a few pieces of his ribs and moving his left lung over. Yeah, that would definitely explain the lack of breath.

They did always call me heartless. Guess they were right. But he wasn’t heartless, wasn’t supposed to be at least. People need hearts, they do a lot of things. That’s right, isn’t it? People need hearts. Those organs that are about a handful and oxygenate the blood and keep it all flowing. Yeah, they’re needed. So why was his missing? Why couldn’t he see straight, or breathe anymore? He needed to breathe, but he couldn’t. What was stopping…oh, right. He was missing his heart.

It took less than a minute for Logan to crumple to the floor. Dead and missing one of his more important organs for living. Blood leeched out of the hole, staining the carpet a deep and wet crimson as hollow breathing grew shallow and the only witness was left pale and shaking against the wall.

He’d come to yell at Logan, tell him off for stopping their progress. He hadn’t imagined their last words to be that of a tiff not a few minutes prior. Nor did he imagine he’d be holding the now bloodied corpse of someone he’d be willing to call friend on a good day, which were most days but that was beside the point.

He didn’t even notice the tears streaming down his cheeks, noticing only when one dropped onto the pale chest, stained with blood and now stained with tears. But even with all that blood he couldn’t bring himself to care as he lay his forehead against the carcass of what used to be a living, breathing Logan. He could hardly breathe, hardly do anything but sob and cry as eventually he raised his head and began his pleas. It would always come down to this, to the pleading of life. No bargain would ever be struck to bring someone back form the dead, but he had hope. And even if he didn’t, he’d plead; because he couldn’t handle going on with this as the last memory he had of their logic.

Worry and fear brought Virgil, love and concern brought Patton. The pleading for life brought an idea.

‘Remus,’ choked and tearful, less filled with the venom it usually had and more filled with a kind of hopeless desire, ‘Remus, get out here.’

It wasn’t a plea that needed to be made twice. Once was enough to bring the usually sickly smiling side out with a sombre and emotionless gaze that lingered too long on the body for the brother’s liking. But he wasn’t about to leave his position. His post, his protective stance in the matter, lest Logan fade away or suddenly vanish; however stupid that may sound to another.

‘You’re good at this, aren’t you? You twisted little bastard. Make him a heart.’ It was a command. One none of them could refuse the call for.

With a nod, four steps and a single sweep into a crouch the tedious night began. A night that brought with it many retries, many close calls for violence between brothers, much blood lost, but finally a result came.

Pulsing in place, gently covered by the left lung and ribs, flesh restitching itself back together, they found what they so desired.

And so, they waited. Night turned to dawn, to day, to afternoon, to dusk, to night again. Whether it was out of love for the other or hatred for himself, the prince kept by the teacher’s side whilst the others worked around him. Cleaning, fixing, making it new and better. Logan would hate to wake up to a mess. Hate it.

Night became dawn again and still the vigil, a hollowed-out man, kept watch as breath was pushed and pulled from the newly repaired body. The hollow man, the tear stained prince, the ever-watchful protector of a cherished friend; no one dared to move him. No one dared to speak to him. He didn’t eat, speak, move. He barely moved his eyes from the sight before him, and yet they knew he could keep it up for as long as he cared to. They weren’t human, after all. They could survive on nothing and still thrive if their being wasn’t set in…logic.

It was a touchy and uncomfortable few days before the stirrings of a lighter sleep brought them cheer. How wonderful, how enticing, how enchanting to see some life, any life, stir from the sleeping side. No longer comatose, or not for long at least. And finally they were able to drag him away, teary and crying with an expression near ecstasy on his face, they were able to pull the last vestige of Roman from the body and get him back to where there was no death for him to be reminded of what had happened.

The subject would be one of discomfort for all of them, no side had ever come so close to vanishing form their lives before, figures the one so steeped in curious nature would be the first to try it out. How it happened, they didn’t know. Did they care? Absolutely not. Logan was on the verge of waking, of being alive once more, and they couldn’t think of the details of his close quarters encounter with whatever psychopomp that lured him to the edge right now.

Death had been a touchy subject before, taboo nearly, but now it would remain taboo for all of them forever. It wasn’t a word that conjured kind images anymore. No lifeless bodies looking serene in caskets ready to be buried six feet under. They’d be haunted by this death until they died themselves. As if that couldn’t happen soon enough now.

Sleeping would be just as bad. To know that he could very well have died in his sleep just after they’d figured out how to give him a heart back, well, sleep would always be a reminder of what could have been lost. Sleep for them seemed too still, too lifeless, too comatose for their liking. Sure, Logan hadn’t been sleeping when he die- had his close encounter. But the days following, where he could still be considered on the brink, where he still looked dead despite not having the hole and lack of a beating heart. Sleep was just too close to that. For all of them.

This wouldn’t be an issue they took lightly. And despite not having seen or heard from Remus or Deceit since they got Logan back online, they knew well and truly neither of them would dig too deep or go too far after this. Before this Remus took death too lightly in the case of friends and family, but it was uncertain how he would deal with those intrusive thoughts now, having seen and been in charge of bringing back someone so clearly dead to the world. Deceit was a different matter, not having shown up until a little after Remus. How he’d reacted was a mystery, leaving the second he saw the body. But they’d find out eventually, it would all come out eventually.

Logan woke up properly a day later, coming to while under Virgil’s care. It made the usually surly side light up for once, seeing the same set of gentle oak hues shine once more with life and awareness, in some aspect. Watching them close was no longer so heartbreaking, rather the peace that resumed was steadily making it up to the top of his list as one of his favourite things to see on the other sides. And with that he deemed it necessary to call on the others and tell them the good news, others including those who weren’t there along with those who helped out.

And that was how his gratitude towards Remus turned to despair at what news awaited the three still caring for Logan. Each allowing it to sink in as the weight it came with snagged their hearts and dragged them down to the depths of despair. How they were supposed to function was beyond them. Lacking one side they’d grown to adore and love in the way they had would be nearly enough to break each of them wide open.

The news, heartbreaking that is was, was brought to them by a regretful and mournful Deceit. Something they’d never seen and hoped to never see again. Remus, fearful and tired, kept quiet as Deceit explained their situation. As Remus was the one to create the heart, were he to forget it Logan would inevitably end up with the same fate as before. Therefore, Logan was tied to Remus in a way none of them had foreseen. Without around the clock reminding, Remus could forget, and Logan would die again, possibly to be resurrected again, but only if they could get to him in time as they had done this time. It was only, and Deceit had hesitated at that point, logical for Logan to come with them and remain in a place where Remus would always remember the act of creation he had approved.

Logan would move into Remus’ room, or he would die.

It was an idea that shocked them to the core. Froze their blood in place and chilled their bodies like frostbite. To have such a weight tied around his neck, to send Logan off without giving him a chance, it was something they had never wanted. He’d be cared for, yes, but he’d become a part of the little group that formed in rebellion of what they’d come together as. And he had no choice in the matter.

It was entirely unfair. Roman pleaded hopelessly against it, wishing he could take on Remus’ burden but knowing he couldn’t. Patton didn’t try to plead his case; he could barely talk let alone make an argument against their rock-solid logic. Virgil, well, grief will do things to a person and the five stages were not something meant to be passed through in the space of ten seconds, only for one to become stuck in place. The rage pouring off the surly side was enough to make those able to comprehend it back up, knowing he could go off at any second as Roman shed tears and Patton sat still and strangely emotionless on the couch. To gain him back only to lose him again, what cruel karma was this that had become their lives and pursued them to the point of madness.

When at last they parted ways, it was decided and over. Logan would know in due time, but they still had a few days until then. He needed strength, to stand up to the horrors that would await him.

They bid farewell in their own ways when he finally regained consciousness. After telling him of his death and their plight to bring him back they spent a few hours consoling him. Coddling what had become a shell so quickly they could barely blink between the phases. And yet they continued, they stayed. They’d seen it all in each other and couldn’t bring themselves to do much more than stay by his side as memories flashed through his eyes like a car speeding down a highway, images of the outside flashing through windows and leaving as quickly as they’d come.

It was all they could do. Sit and wait until he was in the right mindset to talk to them about it. Between themselves they’d taken to dubbing it as ‘The Incident’. A catchy name, for sure, but one that would forever haunt the insides of their eyelids.

And when at last he seemed to have brought himself to sense, to have realised he had a new lease on life, to know he was free from what bound him; then they told him of his new bonds, new shackles, new chains that would drag him away from them and to a world new and unfamiliar to him. A world that would take from him and ask for more eternally, a world that was like theirs but with no comfort, a world without them.

‘So, it would be as if I’d truly died, then?’

Those words made them choke. Spoken so casually with so little care for those around him and the trials he’d been through. Greif may have been a somewhat selfish process, but it was their process that had involved him. But they didn’t have the strength to yell or scream at him; because he was right. As he’d always been.

‘My condolences on your loss, I suppose.’

It was supposed to be humorous, but it only brought watery laughs that were too fake in all the right ways. How he was able to process this so well was beyond them, perhaps he’d seen what lay beyond the mortal realm, what he’d been forced to give up to come back. Maybe there was comfort there, but his eyes were haunted, ghostly. Whatever he’d seen had not been paradise.

‘What was there?’ came the question, courtesy of Patton, but it was something they all wished to know.

Wry was his smile when he answered, dark and gaunt, ‘nothing.’

With the waking came the chains. Not physical or literal, but they were chains, nonetheless. Remus and Deceit came to escort Logan not three days after he awoke, dubbing that a suitable amount of time for the three to bid their farewells to their fourth. They allowed a moment of tears and anguish, Logan trapped within the embrace of three sides as the heart he’d been given pulsed with life and grief. Today he’d lose something great and wonderful and gain something horrid and abominable.

They waved him off, each half chasing after him before being reigned in with the knowledge it was for his own good. A sacrifice of his life for which he was given life. A twist in their tale together that would render their friendship null and void. He’d never be able to leave, and they’d never be able to gain entry. Though perhaps Remus could be persuaded, if not by them than by Roman. Regardless of future plans to sneak into a world not their own, the trio waved off Logan and Logan was led into the darkness.

He closed his eyes against it, not wanting to let it in at first. But as it became apparent, he wouldn’t be able to move forward without his eyes being open, he decided to allow that to happen. It was his hope he could withstand what was thrown at him, what horrors awaited him within Remus’ room.

As they continued on their walk, both sides used to the walk ahead of the one not used to it, the one not used to it noticed something peculiar. A large blot of white light that only grew as they advanced, a doorway of some sort or cave entrance that called them forward. And, stupid as he was, he stepped through it after his guides.

And he blinked back against the harsh light that blinded him. The sun was warm and bright, the world around him the same. So bright was it that he began to think they’d walked into Roman’s room by mistake, that the gentle breezes and sunshine soft and warm, was the work of the creativity he knew and not the one he’d followed. And yet his guides seemed comfortable here, turning to him as if expecting something of him.

He merely blinked back at them, hoping they would say something before he made both fool and ass of himself.

‘Do you like it?’ came the first of many questions to come, a gentle one offered by Remus. And unsure of how to respond, Logan nodded. Not quite following what they meant.

‘He spent hours in here making it right for you. This will be your lobby as a sort, but a more picturesque room awaits you yonder,’ murmured the mellowed tones of Deceit, far from what he was used to but a side to the half-faced side he would not forget seeing.

As promised to him he found his room. From a door carved into a tree he emerged into a field of flowers and mirror glazed ponds. Each echoing a similar sentiment of beauty and belonging. This room, so far reserved from Remus’ usual creations, must have taken many hours to be crafted by himself. Perhaps help was offered and taken from Deceit, but by the sound of it the room was made for him by Remus alone. A great effort if the multicoloured flowers and even temperance of the sun was to be taken into account.

‘For you. If you must stay close and here, I would have it no other way,’ came gently spoken words. Words that echoed and radiated with a calm that was unheard of and nary seen from such a mass producer of madness as Remus, ‘a new start, for a new side.’

It certainly felt like it. A brand-new room decorated like a perfect world where nothing could harm or cause him pain. This world was his own to explore and take note of, and it would take a while to do so. But his heart yearned for the others, and he voiced as such with a simple longing look to the ground. They could not visit this place. This was his and his alone and as such no one could enter; truly, he’d left Remus and Deceit at the door.

But this was still within Remus’ room. He was to be a permanent guest. No longer given the freedoms he once had and secluded to a room he could exit from but never truly leave. A home as beautiful as it was lonely.

‘I know they cannot come here, but Roman can come to my room and as such you could see him in the lobby. That is, if you so wish it.’

Who had spoken such words of wonder was beyond Logan, all that mattered was the words and the meaning they held. To be able to see just one of them again would be heaven, to know he was not so truly alone as to be secluded for eternity before death. Tension would be long gone between them. Lifetimes apart, to be sure. And if they fought it would be hard to break what had been set in place by the departure of his life from the mortal realm.

Roman may not have been his first choice, but he was still a friend, still someone he cared for and loved. It was something he could agree to wholeheartedly.

‘Please,’ a whispered plea that didn’t fall on deaf ears. It would be their pleasure to do what he asked of them, after all they’d just barely brought him back to life. Remus was the djinn in his pocket now, whatever he asked for, Remus would provide without hesitation.

The first meeting went about as well as one would expect. With a shout from royalty and a cry of joy from a usually composed scholar. Their reunion brought tears to their eyes along with a great deal of smiling. They didn’t fight or argue and kept everything happy and civil. This was where Logan could connect to the world outside his room, and the only place Roman could get just and wise advice. Their meeting ended with tears and the promise that Roman would return every week with as best a report as he could give, offering a single hug before vanishing from the room and leaving Logan alone once more.

The second of their meetings was less civil. With work piling up and no way for Logan to help them, the group had become rather swamped, but with a little planning done during their meeting, Roman returned both saddened and with a schedule that was sure to work all of their needs into it. It only made them yearn to see him greater.

Third. The supposed unlucky encounter was just that. The schedule was being overwritten for their needs and wants, and they’d not a judge to fairly decide who would get what time. Roman complained their entire meeting, and later recalled that Logan listened with a tender smile and saddened eyes. Any contact with them would be good contact for him, and Roman supposed Logan had begun to miss their antics and arguing by now.

So, their fourth visit together he brought a present. A recording of them rehearsing the new video and them working in bits they hoped would make him happy. They did. Roman spent much of their time together holding the resurrected side with one arm, holding him close as he wept tears of joy and sadness into the white coat.

The meetings continued on in a similar fashion and pattern. Every few days Roman would enter Remus’ room with permission and meet up with Logan to go over what he could of what went on outside the room before leaving with a hug and a promise to return. Every time the prince returned to his room near tears, frustrated and in emotional turmoil over the fact he couldn’t help Logan more than he was. He admitted that the visits were good for them both, but the tension between himself and the other sides only seemed to grow the closer he became with Logan.

The more he vanished off to speak with the logical side, the more they grew jealous of this opportunity he’d been given. The wedge driven between them had left a small mark at first, but that was growing rapidly with no hope of getting smaller. He needed Logan to be there with him, needed Patton and Virgil to come to Remus’ room with him. Being the messenger was only good for so long before war broke out between them and with no logic in sight they’d tear each other apart at the seams.

With a heavy heart he concluded it was Logan or Patton and Virgil. So, in his hour of need, he came to the one he knew would be impartial. And Logan chose for Roman to remain with the other sides. It would be torture not seeing one another, but it was better than knowing they were the cause of the imminent collapse of Thomas psyche.

Patton and Virgil found him, teary and unresponsive to them on the couch and watching a movie they’d all decided never to watch ever again. It took no less than turning off the player and shaking Roman a good seven times for him to finally show signs of noticing their appearance in his personal space. It took much less for him to spill the beans and tell them what had brought him to such a low. And it took them all of five seconds to realise there was no winning. They wanted to see Logan, Roman could at will. They grew jealous easily, Roman felt the burden of this upon him and thus passed it to Logan. If they agree to let him see Logan again the cycle would return and continue. And then Roman told them of a meeting that sparked their interest.

A few days later Roman came to them with a soft smile and a recording on his phone. The message played on a loop for them, a familiar face echoing back sentiments of sadness and love before Roman’s shaky camerawork came to the forefront and became an opportunity to see something all rarely saw; a laugh. Unfiltered, unedited, unchanged. A loud, proud, joyful laugh with nothing in the way. A sign out and then repeat.

That became their way of communication; recorded video. In a way it was a long-distance relationship, but instead of a computer or phone, they had Roman and a phone. The messages were saved to a hard drive, there was no way either party was letting go of those memories.

With Roman as courier they knew they were getting the truth, neither Remus nor Deceit saw to stop them and in each they began to notice he gradual changes. The more emotive side of an unemotional robot. The darker mourning side of a happy-go-lucky sunflower. The loving side of someone who swore off breaking down his barriers. And a gentle and soft side to the brash and loud prince. It was a new time, a new life for them. As if on that day they’d died with Logan and been resurrected with him. This was their chance at a new life, and they took it.

Time rolled on, each day passing like the last until something came to them; a spark unlike anything they’d encountered in their little world. A spark that burned a passionate red and understanding blue. And how could they not agree to it when confessions were sprouted, and once broken bridges were mended. They could see one another; they had fallen for one another. And it was good. It was approved, adored, accepted. And slowly they drifted away, two sides unable to see the last of their group as he moved, slowly but surely, pulled towards the one he loved. How could they stand against that? Who could stand against that?

When at last their third was no longer with them it was as if he’d become a distant memory, foggy and unrecognisable. What he’d once been and what he now was, were two things so different it was hard to imagine they’d been the same person at all. But they were and they were attached to another.

In their minds they questioned it, but they knew the answer to their question. Can a heart still love, even if it’s stopped beating? Yes, it can.

[joxemehij-blog]

Garmin Forerunner 945 audit

Instead of offering a customer experience, Garmin Watches are about conveying comprehension to those committed to wellness worried. Garmin wristwear may in Garmin Foreunner 945  way take a touch of getting use to since there are a lot of settings and highlights to work your way through and following that without a touch screen, acing the grabs work can be testing.The Latest leader Forerunner model is no special case, After you have to grips together with the usefulness, it will demonstrate an amazing workout ally for anyone genuine about biking, jogging or swimming while at precisely the same time offering some clever smartwatch rudiments.Additionally, while it will not be the prettiest smartwatch Out there, it's about as close as you'll reach some wrist-based wellness partner that is definitive.

Construction: SAME OLD:

The great thing about Garmin Forerunner watches would be They are not and focused at the health devotee way of lifestyle buyers, they are planned over, well, looking beautiful.They're not likely to make you the envy One of your companions. If your companions are usually preparing for marathons, except.The equivalent goes to your Forerunner 945. It is an all-dark Structure that looks indistinguishable from the Forerunner 935 that preceded it. It has comparable measurements, 1.2in shading display and fiber-strengthened plastic plastic casing. The perceptible distinction is the catches are all the greater a firearm metal shading rather than silver.

What is happening within is an story, nonetheless. Yet, More on this later:

Contrasted with the Garmin's all the more very good quality Fenix 5 Plus smartwatch, the Forerunner 945 has the equivalent outside measurements but is 2.1mm slimmer, just as being a really robust 36g lighter at only 50g (due to the plastic plan), which really has any sort of influence on the wrist.With Regard to the tie, it's a silicone QuickFit-skilled 22mm offering, and is overly stretchy, making the Forerunner 945 feel completely good about the wrist and also in this way sufficient to wear each second of each day.A circle configuration that is scored also keeps the dramatic Finish setup, with a silicone ring which has different openings all that is.Not like Garmin's more purchaser well disposed Smartwatch, the Vivoactive 3 Music, the Forerunner 945 is controlled completely utilizing catches rather than a touchscreen. It's a sport watch that is straightforward that is genuine.Catch control functions admirably destroying any Unintentional directions that may happen with jelqing thumbs. The catches are metal so do not destroy the Garmin Forerunner 945's water resistance. It's assessed to 5 ATM, which carries out the obligation for swimmingpool. Regardless of the fact FYI, the Fenix 5 Plus goes further with 10 ATM obstruction.So Far as display, some may be baffled, Particularly if looking at it any semblance of Fitbit's energetic direct watch, the Ionic, for example. The screen comprises a pixel objects bested to create it hard.

 While this dull shading LCD has gap that is more horrible Than your usual smartwatch, the upside is that it barely uses any electricity so brings about executioner battery lifetime, an additional way by which the Forerunner penances execution over design.Another favorable here is that the screen gets clear As surrounding mild increments, so on the off likelihood that you are fortunate enough to keep running in an unusual bright day, at that point there is no stress of not seeing the presentation.In the case of conducting during the day press on the Light catch on the upper left side to start up the front light, which is minimal like the light of a good Casio complex watch.ou can not expect the Forerunner 945's display Apple Watch, however you can expect that it must last one serious part longer between charges. As far as improvements over the Forerunner 935, the 945 has available music financing such as spilling administrations Deezer along with Spotify, just as reconciliation of Garmin Pay (at last).You'll additionally discover a pulse oximeter,branded with Garmin as'Heartbeat Ox4', which enables clients to comprehend how well their body is ventilated oxygen. There is additionally stress after, incident recognition, which sends a robotized SMS and email with your title and GPS place to your emergency contacts, and the new Elevate HR sensor, which uses Garmin's very own restrictive optical-based heartbeat detector innovation.Another new component that we like is the integrated Wi-Fi Radio, which means that your motion information is going to be paired up to your Garmin Connect account when you return to a newly hosted Wi-Fi zone. It is decent to have your info naturally matched up on your Garmin account if you appear residence. This produces the audio institution quickly and simple.For battery life, Garmin claims the Forerunner 945 will maintain Going for provided about fourteen times in smartwatch manner, as long as 36 hours at GPS mode, and as long as ten hours in GPS manner with music playing.As far as we can tell, these cases to be for the most part exact. Nobody that is albeit only uses 1 element. We found the opinion kept going a little more than seven days using every one of those highlights sporadically, exercising for an hour after consistently or 2. This improved battery life suggests it's an incredible option for following an whole day of scaling, as an instance, as there are a lot of distinct manufacturers of smartwatches that can battle with that due to the powerful requests of always on GPS.

Execution: A True TROOPER:

While the Forerunner 945 is gone for long distance runners Its set of capabilities, and sprinters spreads path .Press the Start/Stop grab on the top right and you'll Locate an whole plenty of athletic exercises, such as skiing, SUP, and even yoga. While we didn't get the chance to appraise every of the on the rundown throughout the audit procedurewe did a few runs, a touch of biking and a few yoga to perceive how nicely the Forerunner faked in its own wellness after.For all these it utilizes its pulse sensor, GPS and, when Out elevation. Long gone are the days when you had to have to trust that the GPS will kick before beginning a run. About the Forerunner 945, it evolves.Just as we can tell, accuracy was first class, as well, Giving you a similar unshakable GPS association and commendable following exactness as Garmin's increasingly more rigorous versions. You're just ever a grab press and tap from beginning a session.

 Pulse checking appears to be exact. It Works by carrying readings around frequently, so it and continually assessing your BPM reacts to fluctuations decent and eloquent.Working in most respects, the 945 surely feels just like a Loyal friend. Be as it might, it's important that if the Forerunner 945 is watertight, its optical pulse screen still does not work submerged, so you will have to purchase the HRM-Tri or HRM-Swim ties also to find info regarding your ticker whilst swimmingpool. Furthermore, this doesn't come modest, retailing for about #150 for your own group pack.

SMARTWATCH AND Program FEATURES: STAR REPORTER:

Similarly with most wellness trackers and smartwatches, all That puffing and huffing is decided and the data put away in a friend program, for this circumstance, the Garmin Connect program.Any individual who is mindful of exactly what the Garmin program A couple of years will realize how much it's come so far as look and ease; it is significantly increasingly cleaned and much simpler to research around.When you are given by Cycling, week running and swimming information, your heartbeat diagram throughout late notices the four hours and the weather. Everything is spread out in obstructs, it is everything.hen auditing an exercise, you'll be awarded three rings Speaking to timing, separation, and calories absorbed, along with pace and increase information underneath and a manual of your path in the base (when GPS was utilized throughout ). From here, you might have a significantly more crucial investigate your specifics, (as an instance, VO2 max experiences) in the event that you will need a genuine profound jump, but these are maybe introduced to you personally if swipe crosswise over to them, promising you are not overpowered with advice.ou May alter the opinion in the program, for Example, how highlights are introduced to you just as the arrangement of this watch face and what info is appeared on the home display.You are able to also sort your music library . Enables Only state, it Garmin has at last included music gushing administrations, by way of instance, Spotify, that usually means you never need to chase for a record of your song to place about the gadget.With assistance for strikes, measure and also vibrate cautions considers Well, the Forerunner 945 offers you the institutions of a more method of lifestyle smartwatch, only without the unecessary flippery.

GARMIN FORERUNNER 935 VERDICT:

The Forerunner 945 may be slimmer and lighter than Garmin's Fenix 5 Plus, nevertheless it certainly packs a punch with regards to a wellness list of capacities.Battery life is great and Will see you really running rings around your Apple Watch partners.It is not the least Once you've aced the manual action set up, you'll find it a standout amongst additional preparing around pals.

The major difficulty is the cost:

Regardless, when you think about how much technician is Packed into the Forerunner 945 for your cash, and use you'll be able to get In return so far as health following and smartwatch highlights, we Think it merits each cent.

 https://www.techandgeek.com/garmin-forerunner-945-review/

https://www.techandgeek.com/smartwatch-fitbit-ace-2-review/

 https://www.techandgeek.com/samsung-galaxy-s5e-review/

https://medium.com/@rosefoster746/garmin-forerunner-945-audit-2fc3c4670369

[tisfan]

Slack Water

Name of Piece Slack Water, part five: Tsunami Square Filled K4: Mates Also on A03 Rating Mature  Warnings: violence, gore, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, mermaid AU Summary: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes

Bucky and Tony need to get out of the Hydra facility. Too bad the Red Skull and Zola have been notified about their escape attempt...  Created For : @tonystarkbingo

Part One: Ripples | Part Two: Gyre | Part Three: Phytotelma | Part Four: Palagic

Tony didn’t feel so good.

There was water all around him -- and Starfish, too, pulling him into one of those multi-limbed cuddles, his face pressed against Starfish’s chest -- but it was bad water. He couldn’t breathe right. The water was too warm, too full of rich oxygen and it was making him sick.

I don’t feel so good.

Starfish nodded. Or Tony thought he did. It was hard to tell, with Starfish’s arms all over him, and squashing him. That felt nice, safe. Comforting. But it also made it difficult to move.

You have water shock.

Tony didn’t know what that meant. He wasn’t sure he cared. He just wanted to lay there, safe in Starfish’s arms and rest.

We can’t, I’m sorry. We need to go before more mansthings come.

Tony opened one eye, squirmed around a little until he could glare up into Starfish’s face. I don’t want to go anywhere. Sleep now.

Starfish unwound himself. It’s all right. I’ll take care of everything. Take care of you. Get you out of here. Starfish exited the tank, splatting down on the floor. With one arm, gripped the tank and started dragging it across the manthings cavern.

No out. Sleep.

One of Starfish’s arms wrapped gently around Tony’s wrist, a squeeze of comfort. Tony let himself drift off, rocking back and forth as the tank moved in sharp jerks, a few feet at a time. Sometimes Starfish made noise, as he moved things out of their path -- the bodies of manthings, their strange and unknowable devices, opened portals -- and sometimes he stopped to slither into the tank again, wrapped himself around Tony like a clam making a pearl. Tony. Tony wake up and kiss me.

Tony decided he didn’t need his eyes open for that, but the movement soothed Starfish’s worries, and he would breathe for a while, before dragging the tank further.

Water sloshed out of the tank, and Tony woke up enough to look. Starfish was dragging, using all of his arms, stretched out obscenely, him up an incline, a few precious inches at a time. You weigh a ton, he complained.

Had a big breakfast.

The tank slipped backward a few inches and more water spilled out. Tony squeaked and pulled himself to the bottom of the tank. He stared at the cavern floor, dangerous and ugly and empty of water. Tony had never been outside the water for more than a second or two, and if he never did it again, never tried to pass that burning nothingness over his gills, never felt the entire world smothering him, weighing him down--

Tony’s chest ached from sucking water, his heart was beating too fast. Salt flooded his organs, but he didn’t have anything to shock, there was no danger, no real danger, just what was in his head, pointless and pathetic. Tony whimpered and squashed himself further into the water, until his scales were resting on the bottom.

Starfish hauled the tank the rest of the way up the incline, a bit beyond it, then was back in the water, aggressively petting Tony’s hair, his back, his arms. You’re okay. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. We’re going to get out of here.

It soothed the panic, being cradled in Starfish’s arms. Why?

Why?

Why are you-- this… all of this. I don’t understand.

I am helping you because this is a terrible place. And no mer should ever be in this place. I am helping, right? Helping you? Starfish was even clingier, the little suckers biting into Tony’s skin. It didn’t hurt, it felt good, but he had to pull one arm off to move his head, and the popping noises as the suckers let go were funny and they left little marks on his skin.

Of course you’re helping. Because that was true. There was no way Tony would be able to get out of this place on his own, he was trapped by his own nature even as much as the mansthings with their ability to survive in the empty nothingness outside the water. For what, kisses?

All the kisses. Starfish covered Tony’s face with them, his neck, down his shoulders. I’m going to get you out of here, and then I’m going to keep you. My interesting mer-eel, my brave, strong, clever Tony. Mine. My mate.

That is absolutely the worst proposal I’ve ever heard. Tony sighed, looking down at his skin where the little bruises marked him. I don’t even know your name.

It’s Bucky. I remembered it. So, now will you be my mate?

That’s not much better. Bucky. Bucky. Tony contemplated the new name. It wasn’t quite as sweet at Starfish, but it was good enough. Strong. Bucky would be a good mate; he was smart, he knew the ways of the manthings. He was dedicated, loyal.

Have you heard so many proposals? Bucky sulked.

Tony made a face, baring his teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. A few. Before I was taken. More than a few, really. The Starks were a strong breed, his caverns in the ocean were vast and well protected. He was a good provider. What if I keep you, instead?

Bucky considered that a moment. You can do that.

Tony drew Bucky in for another kiss. My mate. Heart and blood.

Mine. Mine mine mine. Bucky kissed him again, all over his face. We’re going now.

Bucky climbed out again, continued. Sometimes he would come to the tank and kiss Tony and suck more water -- Bucky could live outside the water, but not for terrible long. He would get dried out and tired. Sometimes he left for a few minutes, to scout ahead. He grumbled quite a lot when they had to backtrack, something about stairs, which Tony didn’t understand even when Bucky tried to explain it to him.

Not far now.

Good. Tony was starting to get more and more uncomfortable from rocking back and forth in this tiny tank, and the oxygen inside was getting stale. He needed to breathe. He needed to swim. He needed--

A portal slammed open and a mansthing strode in. He was shorter than most mansthings, and instead of a shell on its head, or hair -- Tony had seen both. So weird that the mansthings had hair, just like mers did. What did mansthings need with hair? -- this one had only a bald, pale skull with fringe around it.

Behind it, came another, its head grotesque and red and like a dead thing. A dead thing that walked. Tony started shrieking in terror, they were gross, they were terrifying.

They didn’t hold any weapons that Tony could see, no sharp sticks or rock flingers, but they were terrifying, nonetheless.

Salt flooded through Tony’s organs, and he banked it away, concentrating on his fear, on his anger, on his hope for a better and new future.

“Zhelaniye,” the pale on said, his face showing his teeth. He rubbed his hands together and it made a dull, hissing sound, like a snake in the water. Tony shuddered. He never understood the mansthings words, but these were even worse. He didn’t know what they were, or what they meant.

Bucky clasped many arms around his head and screamed. The word was hurting him, somehow. Tony didn’t understand.

Bucky!

“Zhavyy,” the pale thing continued. Tony swam back and forth in the little tank, desperate to do something. Something was terribly, terribly wrong and he didn’t understand it.

Tony, get away, get away from me! You have to get away. He--

“Semnadtsat'.”

I won’t leave you!

“Rassvet.”

I’ll hurt you, you have to get away--

And where am I going to go? Tony scrunched himself all the way up at the end of the tank and slammed forward, striking the plastics with all the strength in him. The tank scooted across the cavern floor, maybe a few feet. Tony did it again, and again.

Bucky kept screaming, his words disintegrating into nothingness, until all there was was pain. Agony. His mate was suffering.

His mate was scared.

Bucky had helped Tony. Tony was going to help Bucky. Water slopped out of the tank with each impact. He had to hurry. The mansthings weren’t paying any attention to him, helpless and contained as they thought he was.

He pushed the tank another few feet, despite the ache in his arms from the impact, despite how fear squeezed at his chest. Despite how ugly and terrifying the mansthings were. No more, no more!

“Pech'.”

Only a few more inches.

“Devyat'.”

Close enough. Whatever was happening was happening faster than Tony knew how to handle it. He shoved, one last time, then leaped, grabbing onto the pale-faced mansthing with one hand. As soon as his fingers touched that dry, unpleasant flesh, Tony ignited all his organs in a single, heart-stopping shock.

The pale mansthing didn’t even have time to scream. His features crisped and seared, his mouth gaped open and ugly.

Tony fell to the dry ground, gasping for water that wasn’t there, and watched his enemy die. You won’t harm me, or mine, ever again.

The spell of pain and fear that was tearing Bucky apart ceased with the same suddenness as the death of the pale thing. He leaped, all arms reaching out for the red skulled monster, wrapped his arms around tight on the narrow throat and squeezed. More arms, wrapping the creature’s limbs. The red thing staggered back, trying to rip Bucky’s arms free, trying to speak its dangerous and ugly words, but Bucky kept squeezing.

Tony gagged on the hot nothingness, dragged himself back toward the tank. Oxygen. He needed oxygen.

Bucky made a loud, terrifying sound, a scream of anger, and the red mansthing fell to the ground in two pieces, head rolling and fetching up at the base of the tank. Tony made a face, but he was in too much pain to care much; he used the skull to climb, grabbing the edge of the tank, just a little help in this too heavy, too dry place.

With a splash, and a heave of his gills, Tony fell back into the tank and lay at the very bottom of the class, sucking in as much oxygen as he could get.

A moment later, Bucky’s head ducked into the water. Tony?

I’m okay, I’m okay. It wasn’t that much of a stretch of the truth, was it? He was alive, he wasn’t hurt. He was just very tired.

You helped me.

That’s what mates do. Tony reached out one hand and touched Bucky’s face. His mate. His… starfish.

Tony closed his eyes and slept.

Art from @monobuu Buckyhugs are a little all encompassing.