#rip in peace medic you fought hard

[fictionalmedicshowdown]

Mossy Lawn wins!

Dr. John ‘Mossy’ Lawn (Discworld)

Competent doctor who actually manages to keep his patients alive and is trustworthy. He seems to the main doctor for the local sex workers and gives free treatment for people who need it, like torture victims. I would also like to mention that while his full name is John Lawn, he is most commonly known as Mossy Lawn, which is a great pun.

vs

Medic (Team Fortress 2)

I like Him ❤️❤️ he strong❤️❤️ he's so helpful and has great respect from his teammates and owns an entire flock of doves in his medical room. He's SO dramatic and gorgeous and has the best theme out of all of the mercs imo (the saxophone!! I love his meet the team video too, it's so funny!)

[writing-whump]

Painful recovery

Part 2 of Rip with silver knife wound to his stomach. No graphic description of the treatment, mostly just the recovery and caretaking. Lots of pain and comfort.

Dylan really wished he had started off on better foot with the man he was going to ask for help.

Perhaps he shouldn't have avoided Isaiah and Matthew at every turn, challenged Isaiah with direct eye contact, acted so rudely, or passed his flu to him

He had believed he could afford to give Isaiah a hard time. Like, he and Seline fought the normal amount between siblings, but they were still pretty damn close.

How many times did she pick him up for the train station? Went to his school to negotiate with the teachers? How many times did she borrow him money when he asked, running out from the pocket money of the week?

How many times did he invite her to his room to talk him to sleep with her presentations for the next day? How many times did they exchange song recommendations?

And then this guy swooped in right when things were most tense. Super capable at everything Dylan couldn't do. Taking his sister away.

Sure, Seline never really liked his dates either, but wasn't that what siblings did?

Dylan's mind raced with these unsettling thoughts as he rushed through the streets. A gentle drizzle began, storm clouds merging into a uniform gray overhead.

Finally, he found the right building, sprinting up the stairs. He was faster on foot than with the lift.

Dylan banged on the door without considering a better greeting, urgency overriding manners.

When a redhead wolf opened the door, Dylan nearly fell inside. He caught himself against the doorframe, panting for breath. His lungs were burning.

"Is Isaiah here? I need help," he said between gulps of air. This time, he was careful to avoid looking at the wolf's face.

All the jealousy, all the competition drained out of his shadow. He felt a strong urge to crawl on the floor, kneel, plead - anything to save Rip.

The redhead stepped back into the living room, nodding in his direction. Dylan followed suit then, one hand circling to his back to hold Rip tight.

Isaiah's voice came from the kitchen, nearing closer. "Seline isn't here yet. I can call her-"

"I need you." Dylan lowered himself on the ground to gently put Rip down, propping him against the wall. His head lolled back, face slack and empty of any expression. He looked almost peaceful.

Dylan hated that resignation. Like there was nothing to fight for.

"Is that silver?" The wolf Dylan assumed to be Matthew said with a scowl.

Dylan stayed on the ground, kneeling, bowing his head. "He says the hospital won't treat him. Too dangerous. He's a stray and hunted for reasons I don't know. But please, please, help him."

There was a beat of tense silence. Dylan was breathing frantically, still catching his breath from the run.

What if Isaiah refused? Should he have lied about the hunted part? Would that mean Isaiah would deny him the help – or even worse, kill Rip himself?

Dylan didn't know that much what an Executioner did or what the Wolfson name ment. But he knew Isaiah had connections and that he was often involved with wolves and conflicts with authorities.

But if he lied and Isaiah took him to a hospital and they refused to treat him as a stray...could Isaiah care about that? Should he have had thought this through more?

Maybe he should have called Seline first. She could have put in a good word for Dylan, if not for Rip.

"Can we help him?" Matthew said with a growl. "Isaiah?"

There was a quiet sigh. Dylan dared to lift his head a little, eyes darting to Isaiah.

"Dylan, call Seline. Matt, help me get him on the table. I'll take a look."

Matt spluttered. "You have medical training for this...?"

"Depending on the wound, I might be able to help. If not, we'll call a private doctor from the clinic."

Dylan felt Isaiah's gaze on him and bowed his head again. He felt the weight of his shadow right after, cringing...but it passed over him and moved to Rip, rolling his still, unmoving shadow down.

"Just for now, so he doesn't fight us. He'll need it once we get the knife out."

...

"How is he?" Seline asked as she joined Matthew on the balcony.

"Still breathing, surprisingly."

"I've never seen so much blood."

"Yeah. It was pouring out of him...I had no idea Isaiah could do something like that."

"...I didn't either."

"Wolves don't usually know... we have our shadows," Matthew said.

"Now that you say it, he did mention to me that knowing anatomy and wound treatment can help while healing with the shadow too."

Matthew shook his head. "Leave it to him to know something crazy like that."

"No one could have saved him if one of his internal organs had been pierced."

"True. He was lucky."

"Would they really refuse to treat him at the hospital?"

Matthew crossed his arms on his chest with an unhappy grumble. "Not even the packs treat strays, and humans stay away from them as much as possible. There's really nowhere for them to go. Everyone just waits for them to die. Though…"

"Yeah?"

"Never mind."

"Matt, come on. Say it."

"He was staring for so long, I thought... he wasn't gonna-"

"Nonsense," she scoffed. "Isaiah would never- do you know him?"

"I've heard about him. He is well-known in the fighting rings. Keeps a lid on street strays."

"I thought they didn't listen to anyone."

"Yep."

"... Interesting. But how did he run across my brother? I don't understand."

"No idea. He didn't leave his side once. That kid. It's like he knew he wasn't out of the woods yet."

"But we treated him," Seline insisted.

"On the outside. Internally, he's got to heal and on his own, because of the silver. What kind of fuckers could ha-"

"What can we do?"

"Hope it doesn't get infected. Keep him safe so he can heal."

"Matt?" She touched his arm. There was something tense and melancholic about him that she didn't like.

"..."

"Tell me."

"That could have been me. You know?"

Seline leaned her head on his shoulder. "But it's not." And never will be.

...

Rip didn't understand why the knife didn't hurt him.

When it first pierced him, he was more shocked than anything else.

The silver felt cold and foreign, but once he got over the initial panic, it didn't actually hurt that much. It bled, and moved. Creeped him out. But for some reason the familiar burning of silver didn't come and neither did the pain.

The numbness spread from his stomach. His fingers and toes tingled.

A calming darkness was settling over him. With each breath, he felt weaker. He didn't have it in him to pull the knife out and end it faster. But if this was what dying felt like, it wasn't half as bad as being alive.

He tried to explain it to Dylan. Seriously, that Dylan. What kind of dream world did he come from to return and check on him, to try and save him?

Rip let him fuss, but he knew he was marked by darkness.

He let it pull him under.

Waking up again was a shock.

He was in a dark room with covered windows. It must have been a bedroom, as there were two beds and two tables. But he was lying on a mattress of his own, a thick and comfortable one. Much better than the couch he had at home.

He was covered in blankets. There was an IV sticking from his arm. Like he was at a hospital. He squinted at it, confused.

His senses were still numb. Automatically, he reached for his shadow… only to find a gaping hole.

His breath hitched as he tried to get up, hissing at the movement as cold weakness exploded in his middle.

"Rip? You awake?" Two hands came to hold him down by the shoulder. Then Dylan's head, big hazel eyes and chocolate brown hair came into view over him.

"What...?"

"You're safe. Just keep still. You gotta keep still, or you'll open the wound again."

"My shadow..."

"Yeah, I know. They had to roll it down." Dylan sat back down onto the chair at Rip's side. His hands stayed on his arm though.

"What happened? Where-?"

"Shhh, don't talk so much." Dylan smiled at him. "I told you I would get you help, didn't I?"

Rip's forehead furrowed in confusion. "Help...? Who...?"

"I got you to my sister's pack leader. He treated you. Been to wolf wars or some shit. Knows all kinds of medical stuff. The knife didn't hit any internal organs. You are going to be fine." Dylan gave a bit hysterical shrug, lips trembling. "It was bleeding as heck and it will need time to heal, but they got you blood and antibiotics and crap. You'll be fine."

Rip turned his head to the side. His vision blurred, and his eyes grew heavy.

He didn't like not being able to feel anything. That his senses were shot. It was like half of his brain was missing.

"You are safe, you are safe. You can sleep. It's okay."

For some reason, Rip believed him. His body relaxed and he fell under again.

...

Rip woke up to searing pain.

He scrunched his forehead, wiggling under the blankets. There was a spot at his side that was radiating horrible pain, the kind he had never felt before.

Raging hot poker straight from the fire was in his stomach, the place shooting pain up through his whole middle.

He whimpered involuntarily, forcing his eyes open. Still that unfamiliar room. His senses were back though. And so was his shadow.

He could feel exactly how upset his shadow was, wiggling in pain. There was an acid burning to a spot at it corresponding with the pain in his side.

Oh yes, this was how silver burned. And it was burning a hole in his flesh and in his shadow parallelly. Silver always left traces on the shadow.

Rip twisted in the sheets, moaning. Oh god, oh god, oh god. How he missed not feeling anything now.

He couldn't breathe. A wave of pain and heat rolled through him, causing his whole body to shake with tremors as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"D–" He was there, wasn't he? Rip could remember him being there. Where was he now?

His shadow rippled underneath him, flooding him with information he didn't want. Two overwhelmingly big shadows. Three people—no four. Foreign, strange scents.

Where was he? Why was he here? What was going on?

His pulse quickened, each painful heartbeat like a punch against the searing black hole in his stomach. Like a piece of his flesh got clawed out.

Oh god, how was he supposed to endure this kind of pain?

"D–" he couldn't even get the sound out. "D....please..."

His jaw was crawling with awful nauseous sensation. A little whine made its way out between his clenched teeth, eyes burning with moisture.

And then suddenly Dylan was there, leaning over him. "Rip, Rip, shhh, it's okay, everything will be okay-"

"Hurtssss–"

"Your shadow must have returned. Just a sec, they will give you something against the pain in the IV, just a sec-"

Rip's back arched up, which made him sob with agony. His hands shot up, snatching a fistful of Dylan's shirt. "D..."

His side burned, white-hot pain making his stomach muscles spasm. "Make it stop, god, make it stop–I can't–I can't take this–"

Dylan grabbed his shoulders, pushing him against the mattress. Gentle but firm. "I got you, I got you. Just hang on a second. Just a bit longer, Rip, just hang on..." He kept muttering nonsense in the softest tone Rip ever heard from him or anyone in years.

A shadowy figure loomed over him. His IV twitched.

His vision went in and out of focus, as if he were diving underwater and being forcefully pulled up and down.

"D...."

"I'm here, I'm right here. It's gonna feel much better in a minute, I promise."

There was no numbness or darkness, no relief. The pain soared and burned through him, the hot poker twisting his insides.

But then the pain dulled, like the tiniest, thinnest blanket settled over.

It was enough for Rip to let out a miniscule sigh of relief. His eyes rolled back and the blackness finally took him away.

...

Rip woke up with a dry throat, his skin on fire and his side throbbing.

He shifted experimentally, which caused the hot poker of pain to flare up immediately. A high-pitched whine got its way out before he shut it off, muffling it with a clenched jaw and gritted teeth.

"Stay still."

Rip unscrewed his eyes with great difficulty, tensing up to not let himself turn towards the female voice.

"D?"

"He isn't far away. He just fell asleep. He has been watching over you nonstop for three nights. Needed a breather."

He could see her from the corner of his eyes. Blond wavy hair, held back from her face by a clip. Gray-blue eyes. Rip found that focusing on the details helped distract him from the intense discomfort and itchiness he felt.

"You–" His voice was hoarse, breaking off before he could finish. His throat felt scratchy, his tongue like sandpaper in his mouth.

"I'm Dylan's sister, Seline. You are safe."

She was a witch, that he could tell very clearly. A soft humming emanated from her skin, an aura of calmness and light, almost magnetizing. His shadow stirred and settled down at the proximity.

His eyes rolled towards the IV.

She watched him intently. "Yes, you're getting all your nutrition and fluids through the IV. No concerns about anything. You'll have to transition back to normal food slowly."

He didn't understand why she was sitting so close. Alone with a strange wolf in a room. How could her pack allow it? Even if she was Dylan's sister, Dylan himself should have felt more protective than this. Her packmembers should have. They certainly did have the instincts to not let her near outsiders.

The thoughts had his shadow on alert, thickening under the matrass. The two big shadows were still here, still inside...the sheer massiveness of both of them had bile rising in his throat, his hands trembling.

He whimpered. He didn't mean to, but he couldn't help it. They felt like a threat, one that he was currently too weak and too pained to answer.

Her blond eyebrows furrowed, meeting at the center of her forehead. "Shhhh. It's okay. You are safe. Nobody here will hurt you. I promise."

A half-muffled sob escaped him. He closed his eyes in denial but couldn't fight it.

A sudden movement made his eyes open wide. She stood up, her hands hovering over him, as if she wanted to touch him but stopped herself at the last second, unsure of how he would react.

It blew his mind that she was even considering such a thing.

How long had it been since he was this close to a witch?

Strays never got access to witches, not even from a distance or by accident. Their packs were too protective, the girls too valuable.

The last witch he had been around... was his mother.

His throat closed up, dry and raw. He clawed at the blankets, trembling. The wave of grief that assaulted him made the pain worse, the poker in his stomach exploding with little sparkles of dizzying light dancing in his eyes.

"What is it? Is the pain worse? Rip?" Her voice was gentle, concerned, alarmed. Why was it alarmed for someone like him?

"Rip. Can I touch you? Would that be alright?"

His face twisted in a grimace. He wanted to lift his hand and hide in the crook of his arm, but he was too weak. It only shook in response.

"You're on the highest dose of painkillers we can give you. I'm sorry, I know it still hurts."

Hurt, it did. It wasn't that bad as before. He could think a little more. The throbbing was almost bearable. The meds kept the poker from turning and burning, a light veil enveloping it. But he felt so helpless.

"Hey, hey. You're okay. Take it easy. Breathe. In and out."

He felt feverish and hot and dry. Lost in the sheets, in the foreign room. He wanted Dylan.

Rip tried to breathe like she said, but his chest was heaving. He couldn't get the air in. His breaths came fast and shallow, frantic and shaky.

"I know that it hurts, but you are a fighter. You've got this."

His hands twisted in the sheets, the only grounding he could get, the only movement he was capable of that was semi-safe.

"Shhhhh. Is this alright?" She touched his hand then, just above the wrist. Her skin was soothingly cold and smooth.

Rip shuddered. It felt like touching pure light. The magic in her sparkled and soothed, like a balm against his shadow. Against the wound. Some of the pain subside to the back of his mind as he focused on this new sensation, clinging to it.

"Squeeze my hand if you need to. It's okay. The pain will pass, I promise."

Rip couldn't resist. He relaxed his hand just a bit and hers slipped into his open palm. Touching that light. Touching a kind person.

"There you go. You are so brave. So strong. You are doing very well."

Rip couldn't believe this was real. Maybe he was dreaming it up. But his breathing slowed down.

Comforting warmth spread from the contact, melting some of the tension away.

"Try to sleep."

He held onto her hand, his breathing slowing, but his side radiated pain. It was shooting up into his stomach, his chest, under his ribs. His fingers were tingling again.

Why wouldn't it just stop? He wanted to follow her command, he wanted to sleep...

He trashed on the bed, the movement sending new spikes of pain into the black burning hole in his side. It had her shooting up to her legs again, both hands now clutching his.

"I'm going to try something, Rip. Okay? Just focus on my voice."

That's when she started to sing.

Rip didn't know the song and his mind was too hazy to pick up on the words. To understand them. There was something about a river. A sea. The melody was slow and soothing, like a lullaby.

He didn't know people could sing this well without music. Her skin tingled with more magic and that was when he understood. There was magic in that singing.

There were more words. Something about not being alone, dreams, nights and sleep. There was something about a sun coming up.

The song had a physical effect. Goosebumps rushed on his arms, but where they spread the pain subsided. Waves of soothing cold flew through her hands into his arms, up to his neck and face, the other arm...into his chest and his stomach.

He felt his body relaxing. The air came easier, lighter, like it was refreshed and crisp. Like breathing freely after a day in stuffy heat. Like sunrise on a meadow after a stormy night.

The tears came then, rolling down his cheeks. He wasn't sure why - from the relief, the touch, the memories of his mother and home and feelings that he didn't dare to remember. The feeling of being safe. Of having somewhere to go. Of having somewhere to belong.

The song slowly came to an end, leaving him staring at the ceiling, widened, eyes spilling with tears.

"It's okay, Rip. You can cry or scream. Whatever you need. It's okay."

A series of sobs bubbled up, like her permission was what he needed. He couldn't remember when was the last time he cried.

Seline sat back down, both her hands still holding his. Her thumb rubbed at the back of his hand. Little circles.

She held him until the sobs died down. There was a new kind of quiet in his mind. Peaceful, like an untouched surface of a lake in the middle of a forest.

He dived into it with relief.

[generalfoolish]

Hope

Summary: Being in the Resistance can be tense.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Warnings: *All of my works are M for mature so 18+ please; language, canon-typical violence, explosions, charging recklessly into battle, grief, medic bay stuff mentions, allusions to sex but not really explicit

Word Count: 1.4k

Request: "Hi! Congratulations on 200! That’s a big milestone! I’d like to suggest Poe Dameron, Hurt/comfort, whump (with a side of fluff) please? She/her pronouns please. I just really love Poe and X-Wings 😆 Thank you!"

A/N: I promise I was going to make Poe Hurt, I swear it. But then I found this GIF and I KNEW reader had to suffer. Hope this scratches your itch <3

Masterlist | Taglist |

You piloted your X-Wing around the edge of the plateau, and fired off three consecutive blasts. They hit their mark, and you watched with grim satisfaction as the Tie fighter’s engine blew, before falling to the ground. Over your ear piece you could hear the broken static of your fellow Resistance fighters, cheering if they managed to get a hit in, and the resounding silence if one of you fell. Today, there seemed to be more silence than not.

Flying wasn’t something that had come easily to you, you had fought to be able to go off to the academy and learn. On your planet, women weren’t normally considered for piloting. Your father’s words left a brand across your heart, you weren’t good enough to fly or fight because of who you were. You had packed a bag and fled in the night, leaving that skughole behind. You had trained hard, and were dedicated. When several other pilots defected to the Resistance, you knew where you belonged.

Now, clad in the signature orange jumpsuit, and piloting your own X-wing on the edge of the galaxy, you were at peace. You could handle anything the First Order threw at you, and you’d celebrate with your family after the fighting was done. You could remain calm in the face of certain death, and had so many times before.

“Black leader is down!” The garbled words hit you harder than a blaster to the chest. Your mind screeched to a halt, and only managed to sputter out one thought: Poe. Instinctively, your hands pulled the controls, but internally, you were racing through every memory you had with him. You pushed your X-wing to go faster, screaming when you finally made it to his coordinates, seeing the black smoke jetting up from the downed craft.

You fired shots at the opposing pilot, the one who had ripped your heart from your chest. What you had with Poe was something that extended far past the borders of the battlefield. In the sanctuary of his bunk, he would pull you against his tanned chest, and speak so hopefully of the future that you couldn’t help but imagine it. His wind-kissed lips pressed against your hair, he told you how much you meant to him, how he’d tear apart the galaxy to find you if you ever left. Falling into each other before every fight, so that the marks you left would still be stinging as you took out First Order pilots.

You couldn’t imagine doing this without him. He had given you something sweet to hold onto, something transcendent of this fight and all the others, a future to hope for. If he was gone, then so was that future. What good was the end of this, if he wasn’t there for it?

Your sobs wracked your body, and you relied on your ship to lock onto targets. It was reckless, it was stupid, but you didn’t care. The smoldering remains of Poe’s black X-Wing burned behind your eyes, spurring you on, driving you further away from the safety of your team and further into the enemy’s territory. You heard the alarms, the explosions, when you were hit, but you didn’t care. You were somewhere else, you were back in Poe’s arms, pressing kisses against his skin.

~

Poe climbed from the wreckage on wobbly legs, and pressed his fingers to the pounding in his head. When he pulled them away, they were bloody. He cursed, and wiped it off on his pants. He spared a look at the remains of his ship, and cursed again. He made his way back over, trying to find BB-8, burning his hands on the hot metal. An excited chirp alerted him that his friend was okay, and he sighed in relief. He pulled the droid out, and ran his hand over the globe of his body.

“Close one, huh, buddy?” Poe muttered, dropping into a crouch, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn’t have close calls. He should never have been caught so off-guard. It was your fault, really. He’d been thinking of your soft skin, your bright smile in the mornings, and how he couldn’t stand to leave you for missions. Sure, you were only a call sign away, but he wanted a more permanent presence. He’d been thinking of giving you his mother’s ring, the one he wore like a talisman of protection. You were the only person he could imagine giving it to. You made this fight seem finite. You made it seem like it was worth fighting, like at the end of it, there would be a life left for him to live. He wanted it all with you.

He stood up, popping his back, and wondered where you were in the sky. From his position he could only see part of the sky, and you hadn’t been close when he went down. He cursed again, realizing you must have known he’d gone down, and hoped you weren’t too worried. He scrambled back to the ruins of his ship, and leaned around the twisted metal to reach his comms unit. He barked out that he needed to get back in the sky, that he was fine. He hoped it was enough.

He watched an X-wing begin to land near him, and he shuffled towards it, BB, rolling along behind him.

“It’s bad boss.” The pilot announced from the cockpit.

“Yeah, it’s unsalvageable.” Poe remarked, turning back to his ruined ship. The pilot didn’t answer, but his face told Poe everything he needed to know.

“Take me to her.” Poe ordered, climbing up into the back, they always brought double-seaters in case of situations like this.

“She’s gone, boss.” The pilot told him, voice thick.

“Not today.” The pilot shook his head, but took off the same. Poe could be reckless himself, but this was about you. He saw your destroyed ship before the pilot, and ordered him to land, despite being firmly in enemy territory.

Poe moved instinctually, burning his hands again as he pulled the smoldering metal back from the cockpit. A strangled cry broke from his throat when he saw the way you were leaning forward in the seat, slumped over, blood smeared on your pale face. You looked dead, but his hands didn’t stop reaching for you and pulling you out.

When you were out of the ship, and in his arms, he could feel you breathing. A stuttered, shallow thing that made him nervous. He pushed you in the back of the ship he’d come in, and told the pilot to jump as soon as he could back to base. Medics base, ASAP. He watched with bated breath as the pilot maneuvered back into the fight, and then out of the atmosphere.

He realized, numbly, that he was out in the middle of the field with no protection, but as long as you were safe, it didn’t matter.

~

Your eyes fluttered open, before you promptly shut them again, the light shining in too much. A warm hand was in yours, and you curled towards the weight. You’d recognize that deep breathing anywhere: Poe. You groaned at the movement, before you opened your eyes again. You were laying in the medic bay, wires tapped to your skin, tubes going in every direction.

Your noises seemed to wake Poe, who sat up immediately, and crushed his lips to yours. You groaned against his lips, and he pulled back, sheepishly.

“Sorry, I just–Fuck, don’t do that again. What were you thinking?” He demanded, his tone one of grief and disbelief.

“I thought you had died.” You told him softly, moving a hand to cradle your side. You must have crashed, and the bacta hadn’t quite finished healing you yet.

“You did die. Baby, I can’t do that again. You…shit. You absolute shit. I love you so much.” You watched the pain on his face, and you knew what he was feeling. You’d felt it too.

“I love you too, Poe.” You told him, a small smile on your lips.

“You’re off missions for six months. No flying.” He ordered, placing his hands on his hips, his mouth pulled into a tight line.

“Six months? Poe are you crazy?” You argued, struggling to sit up. He placed a gentle  hand on your shoulder, smiling at you.

“Well, I’m grounded too, so maybe we’ll find something to do to pass the time.” You pulled his hand to your lips and pressed a kiss there. A little vacation, never hurt anyone.

[13yearslater]

Attitudes surrounding bottom surgery

I’m so tired of the misinformation, misconceptions and attitudes surrounding bottom surgery for trans men, especially phalloplasty and especially amongst other trans men.

All too often I’ve see other trans men saying that phalloplasty looks fake, unrealistic, unnatural, bad, terrible, is useless, insensate etc. I’ve seen much harsher words used to describe phalloplasty; again, by other trans men, but I won’t repeat them here.

Can we just think about how inconsiderate, unnecessary and hurtful that is? It is absolutely ok to not want phalloplasty, it’s ok to feel it’s not adequate for your needs but it is not ok to speak about it this way simply because it doesn’t suit your needs. You must remember, these aren’t just “surgery results”; these are people’s bodies. People that like you, have fought long and hard to feel at peace in their skin and once they finally get there and are kind enough to provide these deeply personal and intimate photos for the purpose of providing information for other trans men seeking bottom surgery, we see their bodies shamed and degraded by the very people they’re trying to help.

I’m sure many of the trans men who speak this way about these surgeries would realise the impact if we switched the scenario. Imagine you’ve started testosterone or maybe you’ve had top surgery. It’s been a long time coming, you’ve waited a long time for this, you’ve scrimped and saved to afford it, you’ve dreamt of this moment for years; of being able to finally see yourself in the mirror, of being able to take your shirt off and finally feel comfortable with what you see, to be able to touch your chest, to be able to be intimate with another person. You’re so grateful to have been able to have these things. The relief, the euphoria, the swagger as you walk now without the weight of the dysphoria from these aspects of your body. You feel good, you’re proud, you’re happy, you finally feel at home in your body and it’s amazing. You want to share your results; maybe to help other trans people who are considering going to the same surgeon or maybe because you're proud of how far you’ve come, how happy you are and you want to share that. But then you post a photo of yourself to show your changes or you post a picture of your chest post-surgery and you’re met with the same kind of comments we see about phalloplasty FROM OTHER TRANS PEOPLE:

“Top surgery is terrible, it looks so fake and unnatural, it’ll never look like a man’s chest.” 

“Those scars are AWFUL!” 

“I want top surgery, but I don’t want THAT!" 

“Testosterone doesn’t even work, you can still tell they’re not cis; what’s the point?” 

“I guess I’ll have to wait until they come up with something better”.

Maybe as you’re browsing trans spaces you might see your pictures being shared elsewhere. Maybe they’re being used to demonstrate examples of “bad results” and you’re reading a thread of other trans people picking fault at the most intimate part of your body. 

Can you imagine how any of that would feel? To finally feel at peace in your body, to like how it looks and feels, to be proud of it, only to be told by people - who should understand - how awful it looks? I hope you can.

There are two main reasons why you may think these things about phalloplasty and you’re perpetuating one of them. There’s a reason we have an almost constant stream of people showing their post-surgery chests online and yet almost no one showing their penises after phalloplasty and it’s not because no one gets phalloplasty. 

1) Phalloplasty is usually performed across up to three separate surgeries. For this reason, the photos we see on Google or surgeons’ websites are taken in between these stages and very often either immediately after surgery or during the healing process. You will be extremely hard pressed to see a finished and healed phalloplasty from either of these sources. Even photos posted by the patients themselves will often be in between the years long process of multiple stages and are often shared to illustrate the healing process. 

2) This is the one you’ve had a part to play in. After countless people having negative experiences with sharing their photos publicly, the sharing of photos after phalloplasty has been driven largely underground. Often to member-only websites, to secret Facebook groups that require proof of surgical referrals to even gain access to, to Yahoo Groups (RIP), to documents on Google Drive that are shared only by word of mouth between trusted individuals, to speaking directly to those who have had phalloplasty. 

Chances are, you’ve probably never even seen a completed and healed phalloplasty. Let alone one with full medical tattooing. 

Either way, I urge you to be mindful when speaking about other people’s bodies. 

[ulalumewitch]

A Song of Shadows and Light

Short Story inspired by “Day 6: Book Predictions” by @gwynrielweek - my prediction is that Gwynriel is end game and they are mates. This takes place an undetermined amount of time into the future after ACOSF.

Author Note/Warning: Brief mentions of past abuse. If you find these ideas triggering, please skip. I hope I addressed them with the care and sensitivity they deserve.

word count: 3,279

theme: a bit of angst, feels

please note: light adult language used.

*******

Azriel’s shadow’s did not speak to him. It remained his biggest secret. They did not whisper in his ear. They did not shout, nor did they cry, nor did moan.

His shadows sang.

He always thought people would assume the truth given the name, but they never did. Others sometimes asked, ‘What do they say? What do they sound like? Do they speak to you often? Do they speak in riddles?’ But never did they ask, ‘Do they sing?’

The first time Azriel heard their song had been while staring at young hands wrapped in bandages as he sat in the cold, damp hell of darkness. The inky black he’d learned to survive in had been no life at all but the sort of torture no creature should endure. Especially not a child.

Azriel had always been intelligent. His mind worked in patterns and puzzles. When he’d been allowed to begin an education beyond the fundamentals of reading and writing - when Rhys’ utter saint of a mother took him under a literal wing - he seemed to understand everything taught to him the moment the instruction passed her, or any teacher’s, lips. Initially, Azriel thought it a gift.

Until he realized the curse of it. He never forgot anything he read or heard, and he never forgot a face. His memory remained woefully accurate. While it made him an excellent spy, Azriel used to pray to the Mother to take his memory away, to take his ability to remember the finest minute details away. Or at the very least the bad memories away…

There were seven cracks in the stone on the floor where he used to sleep, where the damp seemed a little less chilling. Twenty stones around his lightless cell. He learned them all by feeling, touching, counting. Games to keep his mind from wondering if perhaps he’d died. If, perhaps, the Mother forgot about him …

Azriel turned his face up at the sky and let the rain fall softly against his face. His wings twitched slightly at the first contact. Warm, summer rain. Refreshing. Revitalizing. The burgeoning storm ushered in cool air and finally broke the suffocatingly hot, humid weather that had plagued Velaris the last week.

He took a deep breath. And another.

The memory of the first song his shadows sang to him was not an unpleasant one. Perhaps one of the only memories from that place that didn’t belong to a nightmare. They did not sing of freedom or of hope. They sang of light. They saved him.

Every once in a while they would sing of that light. The light of stars against darkness, the light of dawn breaking after another battle won, the light of eyes sparkling in love. They wouldn’t sing of it often, but they usually sang when he needed it most.

Or whenever Gwyneth entered the room. They sang of light around her the most. Their song became loudest when she was near him and it always complimented her words, as if providing a symphony to accompany the voice that filled his dreams with rest. Real rest. Those few precious nights they fell asleep side by side doing research in the library had been the most peaceful and restful nights of his entire existence.

Azriel had been a fool. For all of his abilities to ferret out the secrets of others, to become those shadows to learn what words were whispered in the dark, he’d lost the ability to see past his own shortcomings.

He’d searched for the love he’d missed as a child his entire life. Azriel desperately wanted it for his own, to heal those old wounds and to finally become the creature he always thought he could be.

Instead, he’d lived in delusion after delusion. First, the Truth Telling Warrior Queen, and then the Lady of Flowers and Sun.

It wasn’t their fault, nor was it totally his. He didn’t realize how wrong he’d been until the creature the Mother and Cauldron had paired him with left.

Azriel couldn’t blame Gwyneth for leaving. It was the right move for her. The fact that she healed, that she worked so damned hard to be able to start a new life went beyond admirable. And she’d did it on her own. True, she had her Valkyrie sisters, himself and Cass as her mentors, and the Priestesses … and it was because of that support system that Gwyn was able to save herself from the dark and to follow her own dreams and her own path, whole and healed and independent.

And he would never stop her from being herself. Even if it ripped his heart to shreds to see her go. Even if he fought every day not to winnow to that sanctuary on the other side of the Night Court as she and the others began helping others heal from their own nightmares.

He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen in love with her. Hell, he didn’t even know he’d been in love with her until she left without saying goodbye. Until he found that godsdamned note pinned to his door, rolled up with a teal ribbon around it.

Again, words he wished he could forget burned into his memory …

Do not let the water break you, Shadowsinger. Do not be scared of the warmth light can bring either. Let it illuminate you, every part of you, because you are a creature deserving of every happiness, Azriel, and only you can stop you from finding it. I pray, one day, you will be able to leave your fear behind you. ~G.B.

Azriel lost her because he was afraid. The thing he’d chased his entire life alluded him because he’d finally found it and was too damned cowardly to admit it to himself. To admit that the teal-eyed Priestess Valkyrie Carynthian was in fact the love of his godsdamned life.

And she’d left and he refused to be selfish and to do anything that might potentially ruin the happiness she fought for and won. If anyone deserved living in the light of happiness and peace, it was Gwyn.

Azriel closed his eyes, the rain beginning to fall a little harder. A low rumble of thunder in the distance that belonged to nature and not his High Lord, rolled through his bones. He welcomed it.

“I’m sorry I was a fool,” Azriel said out loud.

The rain fell harder, drowning out his words. But as he said them, a small weight lifted as his shadows swirled around him, keeping some of the drops off of his skin. Their touch soft and reassuring.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way.”

Lightning flashed. Another crack of thunder.

‘She sings for joy and hope, her voice like a snow white dove,’ his shadows lilted, singing in his ear.

Azriel smiled through his tears as they mixed in with rain. She was happy then, she was exactly where she needed to be.

“I love you, Gwyneth,” he shouted to the storm.

Lightning and thunder and rain and his shadows sang melodies to mix with the symphony of the storm as the entire weight of the godsdamned world seemed to be lifted from him entirely. The truth and freedom of it so cathartic he let out a laugh and sob and -

A phantom pull to his middle had the Illyrian warrior stumbling forward, his hands braced and caught himself on the red wall of the training circle atop the House of Wind.

Another tug near his sternum … right over his heart …

Azriel turned as his shadows’ melody, wordless and sweet, crescendoed. A rush of breath passed through his lips as he found wide teal eyes staring at him.

He couldn’t move. For the first time in his life, Azriel forgot everything. If anyone asked him his name he likely wouldn’t remember.

All that he knew was that the beautiful creature walking towards him was no mirage. She stopped in front of him. Her beautiful copper hair somehow still shining through the dark and in the rain as it plastered to her head.

Something sparked in his chest. And Azriel, for the first time in his life, knew true happiness.

********

Gwyneth’s heart pounded as she ran through the house. It closed doors as she approached rooms as if telling her to keep going, the Shadowsinger would not be there. She had dreamed of Azriel every night since she’d been gone.

His hazel eyes, his cheekbones, his lips - those lips that she’d stare at and would forget to actually listen to what he was saying. And she’d have to ask him to repeat whatever it was and he would always quirk a smile - always the left side of his mouth - and then do as she requested. Like he knew.

But when she admitted to feeling something more than friendship. When she finally worked up the courage to broach the topic, thinking that maybe he wouldn’t because he didn’t want to push her, he gave the worst response possible.

Silence. Nothing. Not a single sound had passed those lips she’d come to love.

So, she’d left. She would have stayed. Would have carried on her work in Velaris because it was just as fulfilling as the work she now did on the other side of the Night Court. But she wouldn’t torture herself being around the Shadowsinger any longer. She’d taken his silence as a sign from the Mother that it was time for her to fly away from the nest that allowed her to grow and heal, and to live on her own.

She still had Emerie and Nesta for support as they were winnowed in a couple of times a week to help with training. The priestesses and faeries she had started to work with and train she already knew would be friends or at the very least amiable students and colleagues. Her new endeavor was exciting and scary and thrilling and all the things that she always imagined life could be.

The new compound that she, Nesta, and Emerie had dreamed up had been funded by the High Lord and High Lady, having agreed that more sanctuaries like the library should be available to others. It turned out more beautiful than she could have imagined. The Home for Wayward Stars included a temple, training centers, stables, medical building, and library. All to offer services as well as to train faeries in whatever they’d like to learn.

The compound had been built along the sea, nestled in a previously untouched basin surrounded by mountains, not unlike Velaris itself. The High Lord of Day, along with Rhysand, warded it to ensure it remained a safe haven for those seeking shelter. It was also guarded by new members of the Valkyrie so that all who sought sanctuary could begin healing in peace.

The High Lord and High Lady had been beyond kind, and even built her a small apartment that had a balcony that overlooked the sea, the waves crashing right below her and faced east. Every morning the light greeted her along with the sounds of the sea and it was perfect.

Except it really wasn’t perfect because when she woke up from her dreams of Azriel she would be alone in bed. And it infuriated her.

And so, Gwyneth decided to do something about it. The silence of his response ate away at her. She wanted a real answer. She wanted to know if he felt the same or if he didn’t. Even if the answer meant heartbreak she needed it. For closure.

But as she ascended the stairs to the training circle atop the house, her heart began to pound in her chest, and she knew he was up there. When she reached the top step she heard his voice and closed her eyes. Hearing it in her dreams was far different than the real thing.

“I’m sorry I was a fool.”

Was he talking to someone she couldn’t see?

But as she went to step out onto the roof, shadows swarmed her. Cool yet comforting, they swirled around her and gently pushed her back. She furrowed her brow but stayed put.

Gwyn loved Azriel’s shadows. When they’d researched together they’d always provide light touches to any knots in her neck and shoulders as she read, or would offer a cool breeze atop the house when training at night. Azriel always seemed to fret they would scare her but she loved them. Just like she loved him. And she just didn’t understand why -

‘Priestess of Light and Sea and Song, wait, it will not be long.’

Gwyneth’s mouth opened as she stared at the swirling shadows around her. Did they … did they just sing to her to stay put?

But Azriel’s raised voice stopped her thoughts.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way.”

She began shaking. Oh gods, what if he’d found someone else? What if she’d read him all wrong. What if he really was just a supportive friend and she had been so desperate -

“I love you, Gwyneth!”

Gwyn clamped a hand over her mouth just in time to muffle the sound of a small cry born from pure relief and joy. Her hand flew to her chest as her heart pulsed in a quick beat. She furrowed her brow and looked down. No, it wasn’t her heart, but very near it. Something around her heart.

‘We sing for our Master and thee, Princess of Light and Song and Sea, we sing for the mates of darkness and light and sky and sea.’

She stepped out onto the roof, the shadows retreating slightly but remained close to her. Out of pure magical instinct Gwyneth reached deep down into that place near her heart. The place that sparked alive whenever Azriel was near her or whenever she wished he was near her. She grabbed a hold of that place and tugged.

Gwyneth watched in equal parts wonder and amusement as the renowned Carynthian warrior stumble forward in response. He whirled and she couldn’t stop herself as she did it again.

Hazel eyes locked on hers and she knew all of the trepidation she’d felt had been for nought. He loved her. He only needed to go on his own journey to find it. And Gwyneth understood that the dreams she’d had must have been Mother sent to bring her back because Azriel was finally ready to accept the destiny that had been written for them in the stars long ago.

Azriel raised a wing out over her head to shield her from the rain. His shadows continued to swirl around them both.

“I love you too, Azriel.”

“Gwyn,” he breathed out, “What - how -“

She smiled as he sputtered slightly. Gwyn reached forward and laced her fingers through his. Her thumbs lightly running over the ridges of some of the raised bits of scars. Ridges and lines that she’d memorized during their moments alone together.

“I dreamt of you,” she whispered, “And I had to come see you. The house led me here and then your Shadows sang for me to wait while you shouted into the rain. Do you always bother storms with your confessions?”

Azriel’s mouth dropped open. His hands began to shake slightly in hers.

“They sang to you?”

Gwyneth nodded and smiled, “Would you like to venture a guess why?”

She watched, fascinated, as his shadows swirled around his ears. His eyes shuttered slightly and then began to glisten in the dark.

“Is it too soon to talk about a mating ceremony?” Azriel finally asked.

Gwyneth laughed, as tears of pure relief and joy stung her eyes. She ripped her hands from his and threw her arms around his neck. And kissed him.

Azriel’s mouth slanted over hers immediately. The kiss soft but heated as one hand dove into her hair and the other held her waist tightly to him. With the first tentative touch of his tongue to hers, fire lit her veins. She tipped her head back slightly and opened further for him.

His cedar and mist scent wrapped around her as surely as his shadows did, keeping them hidden. Gwyn held on to him, suddenly worried that maybe she dreamt again. That maybe this was nothing but dreaming.

But in that very moment of doubt Azriel pulled away from her. He ran his nose long hers and brushed his lips over hers in a way that made her consider how his lips would feel on her skin.

“This isn’t a dream,” he whispered, “And I love you and I’m sorry.”

She smiled and brought a hand up to cup his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as she ran a thumb along his cheek bone.

“I love you, Azriel. But for your penance I must demand a couple of things for our future mating ceremony.”

His eyes opened and his lips quirked up. The left side of his mouth. Always the left side of the mouth. Her heart leapt in her chest as warmth spread through her.

“And what’s that Berdara?”

She pressed the front of her body to his, allowing her curves to mold to the hardness of him, to the cut of muscles honed over centuries of being a warrior. Her own warrior called to him, ready to take on anyone who would dare to hurt him. The instinct to protect, she mused, and they hadn’t even officially done anything. Not yet anyway. Hopefully not much longer.

“That we have our ceremony by the sea, our feet touching water and land. That we have our ceremony at dusk as day and night hedge on each other. So that sky and sea and dark and light surround us. So for that sacred moment it will seem like we teeter on the edge of the universe and its us. Just us. And that you will do your duties and live your life and I will do the same and we will carve out a life just for us by forging those parts of us together to make a whole. So that we’re both stronger.”

Azriel leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. He brushed his lips over hers again before placing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth. His lips lingered and then slowly pressed kisses to her cheek and jaw line and then … then he kissed the sensitive spot below her ear, warm and pleasant and her knees buckled.

His lips curved into a smile against her skin and she wanted to scream at him to stop - to not stop - to do it again but more.

Azriel moved his mouth to press a kiss to the pulse at her throat, and her toes curled in her boots. All of her breathing techniques forgotten as she struggled to remember how to draw breath into her lungs.

With his blessed lips still against her skin, nuzzling her, he replied, “As you wish, Princess of Light and Song and Sea. It’s a good thing I’ll be able to winnow to you every night. Tell me Rhys and Feyre made your apartment big enough for someone with wings.”

“Our apartment. And yes. Now, kiss me again, Shadowsinger,” she smiled, “And this time. Don’t stop.”

Azriel flashed a grin and before Gwyn could form another thought his lips met hers. And she fell. No matter where she landed, and no matter where her journey led her from here, she knew that she would be living that journey with the Shadowsinger, her mate, beside her.

So they fell together as his shadows sang to them a song of darkness and light, sky and sea, hope and love.

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

hope you enjoyed! i love all possible ships and these two give me the feels.

[thinking1bee]

Relax One Shot

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Kara Danvers x Reader

Tags: Werewolf!Reader, Humor, Fluff, Superfriends, Antics During Gamenight

Taglist: @owloftheshadows

You thought that telling Kara that you were a werewolf would be the end of your relationship with her. As it turned out, she was keeping a secret of her own, and that’s how a werewolf and a Kryptonian became girlfriends.

Only one other person knew about your condition and it was Kara’s sister, Alex. You wanted someone with a medical background to be able to come to in case something went wrong. You remembered all the tests that you had to go through. The physiological ones were the worst with Alex taking tissue, blood, and bone samples. Kara had to take you to go get ice cream after those. You could still feel the needle sinking into your bones to retrieve bone marrow. You almost turned in the process and Alex kept apologizing about it for days after. The strength and the endurance tests were exhilarating. You found out that you were way stronger than the average human, which was no surprise of course, but you still didn’t compare to Kara. It wasn’t like you could lift a space station off the ground or lift a submarine out of the water. You could lift a car off the ground though. That had been a surprise to everyone including yourself. You knew you were strong, but you never really put it to the test.

In your human form, you could run up to 30 miles per hour. In wolf form, you could push almost 70, but still didn’t compare to Kara who could disappear at the blink of an eye. She still whooped your ass in arm wrestling contests, but you were always the one to make her legs shake in bed soooo…you’ll take what you can get.

At first, turning into a wolf had sucked. Your first transformation, which thankfully happened several years before you met Kara, was one of the worst in history. If Kara had been there to witness that, you’re sure that it would scar her. The crunch of shifting bones and the tear of skin was all you could remember about the transformation before everything went dark. You had fought it every step of the way, resisting the change with every fiber of your being. That had been a big mistake. It wasn’t until several transformations later that you realized that if you embraced it, it was less painful. You also found that that you could change at will no matter the phase of moon as long as it was nighttime.

There was one time when Kara came home to you relaxing in your wolf form. That had scared the crap out of her. You’d never see her fly so fast into the air and almost rip the ceiling out in panic. But it had been your fault. You weren’t paying attention at all so when she opened the door it was already too late to try and change back and pretend like nothing happened. When you did shift back, she floated to the ground slowly, the look of bewilderment strong on her face, and that was the night you had to explain everything. That was also the same night she told you about her being Supergirl. She had a lot of questions of course like how often you turned and when it happened. You had questions for her as well and pretty much the rest was history.

She did wonder why you were always in your wolf form though and you had to give that to her. Kara constantly reassured you that it was fine and that you could do whatever that made you comfortable. She loved the way you looked as a wolf. You had jet black fur that seem to absorb any light that was shined its way. Sometimes she would pet you too and that was the day you found out why dogs like pats. They’re super comforting. Also, you loved the quiet that came with being a wolf. As a person, your mind was constantly clouded with thoughts and anxieties but like this, you could only comprehend urges. It was hard, getting a hold of yourself when all you wanted to to do was sniff literally anything and everything but once you got control of it, it was so peaceful. Sometimes you’d turn just to feel yourself relax.

Currently that’s what you were doing. You were stretched out on the floor with your massive paws tucked beneath your body when you heard voices coming your way. You had a hard day at work, and you wanted to take your mind off of it. What you didn’t remember was that tonight was game night and it was already too late to try and hide. You could smell Kara along with Alex, James, Winn, Brainy, and Nia. Right as Kara opened the door and turned the light on, she froze, her eyes wide with panic as she realized what was about to happen. There was no stopping what was about to happen next especially when you heard Winn yelp from beside Alex who was already looking between you and Kara with bewilderment.

“I didn’t know you had a dog, Kara,” Brainy commented, assuming a slightly defensive stance when he saw how big you were, which was fair. You were about the size of an adult man even while sitting down.

“Ummm yeah,” she said agreeing weakly while looking to Alex. Alex just shrugged. “Sometimes I foster dogs.”

You wanted to laugh, and your furry ears cocked as you watched the interaction. Kara gave a stern look, and you knew what that meant. If you wanted your secret kept, you had to play along. There was no way she could lie herself out of this one. Eventually she would break down and confess, so you wagged your tail and sat up, greeting the company as well as a trained puppy.

Nia and Winn still looked very skeptical and refused to step another foot inside. It would seem that you size was way more intimidating than your friendly behavior. You had to be more convincing, so you cocked you head to the side and started panting, wagging your tail harder. Alex grinned, a devilish smile making her face more childlike with mischievousness as she turned to look at Kara.

“What’s her name?” she asked, and you swear you could see Kara shoot a pointed look at her. She wanted to slap her upside the head but instead she looked towards you as she frantically thought of one.

“Y/n?” she offered, the inflection of her voice making the suggestion sound more like a question.

“Your freakishly large dog is named after your girlfriend?” James asked, piping up for the first time since they got there.

“Well, I wanted to name her Fido, but Y/n wouldn’t go for it.”

Fido? She was damn right! What kind of name was Fido? You weren’t some common mutt. You growled lightly at her and Kara smirked at you with an eyebrow raised and her arms crossed. Beside her, Alex disguised her snort as a cough.

“Well, she doesn’t bite right?” Winn asked, his nervousness making his voice quiver slightly.

“She better not,” Kara replied. “Or else I’ll take her back to the pound.”

Hey! You barked at her and huffed. Whose side was she on? The look that Kara gave dared you to refute and you knew that you couldn’t. After much convincing everyone came inside and began to prepare for game night. You stayed on the side of the couch, laying on your side and relaxing once again. It was about ten minutes later when Alex came to you with a wine glass in hand.

“Hey Y/n. How are you holding up?” she asked.

You wagged your tail in response, but you couldn’t help but eye the water bottle Nia had in her lap. As slowly as possible, you approached her, sat down, and leaned against her legs.

“Oh hello,” she said while she scratched behind your ears.

Oooohhh that felt good. You leaned against her some more as you tilted your head more against her hand. While she was preoccupied with giving you more scratches, you reached over and grabbed her water bottle into your mouth.

“Hey!”

But before she could say more, you crushed her water bottle in your mouth and gulped the water ravenously. Alex cackled beside you and Nia yelped when some of the water squirted on her.

“Um Kara? I think your dog is thirsty,” Nia said as she wiped water off her face. Brainy smiled as he helped her.

From the kitchen, you heard Kara gathering snacks and other foods.

“Nia, I don’t have a dog-”

Kara came around the corner with chips and stopped mid sentence. Your front paws were on Nia’s lap as you licked the water from her face in attempt to clean the mess you made. She giggled as she tried to keep you off of her and you couldn’t help the excitement you felt from making her happy.

“Right. My dog,” Kara mumbled. She turned on her heel and you jumped off of Nia to follow her.

Kara poured water into the biggest metal bowl she had and placed it on the floor. You wagged your tail and started to swallow it by the mouthful. God you were thirsty! You being a wolf burned more energy than you thought.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Kara asked with a grin on her face and you gave her the cutest puppy dog face you could muster. She laughed and leaned down to kiss your nose before going back to enjoy her game night.

“Where’s Y/n, Kara?” James asked and you froze in the kitchen.

“I do believe she’s in the kitchen,” Alex quipped, and you heard Kara throw a pillow at her. You laughed, which sounded more like a series of grumbles and soft barks, as you rejoined everyone in the living room.

“She had to work late,” Kara clarified, giving Alex a pointed look and Alex raised her hands in surrender.

“Well hopefully we’ll see her next time.”

The sounds of laughter and playful bickering filled the atmosphere as their games progressed throughout the night, and you were content with curling by Kara’s legs and nuzzling against her. All the noise faded to the background and you felt yourself relax. After a couple of hours, everyone began to clean up and go home. You stayed on the floor and out of everyone’s way when Nia came over to you.

“You’re such a sweet girl,” she murmured to you and at first you were confused, but when she started to rub your belly, you were like putty in her hands. Without conscious thought, you lifted your hind leg and rolled backwards more to give her more access. When James and Winn saw Nia petting you, they joined in with Winn rubbing your stomach timidly and James scratching behind your ears.

“Oh look! I think I found the sweet spot,” Winn exclaimed. You had no idea what he was talking about until you looked up to see your hind leg shaking. He scratched you more and your leg shook harder. As weird as everything was, you enjoyed being petted and your tongue fell, lopsided, out of your mouth as you began to pant.

“Don’t you want to pet her, Alex?” Nia asked her but Alex shook her head.

“No, I’m good.” She turned on her heel and was out the door when she said her next part.

“I have zero desire to touch Kara’s girlfriend.”

Kara shook her head at Alex’s receding form and turned back to see you panting like an excited dog. She smiled as she grabbed her phone and took a picture.

“I have to save this,” she said to Brainy as he waited by the door for Nia.

After ten more minutes, Winn, James, and Nia, who left with Brainy, departed after giving you more scratches and kisses to your head. Right as Kara closed the door, you turned back and wrapped a spare blanket around your naked form. Kara laughed as she took you in her arms.

“Are you ever going to tell them?” she asked. You shook your head vehemently.

“Nope. Never. I don’t think our friendship could handle it especially after they realized that they’ve been petting my naked stomach.”

Kara giggled before kissing you sweetly on the lips. “Come on, I know you’re hungry. I’ll make you something.”

“God, yes!” you groaned right as your stomach growled loudly.

[mimiplaysgames]

Terraqua Week Day 1 (Weak Spot)

Summary: We all have to make peace with the past. (In which Terra returns in Xemnas’s body and I scream SIZE DIFFERENCE.) || Word Count: 8,319

Read on AO3

A/N: AAAAAHHHH I’m so excited that we’re doing a whole other @terraquaweek !! I have to apologize ahead of time, my fics this year are super long and super packed, but I’m pretty proud of this collection and I can’t wait for y’all to read! I can’t wait to hear what you think! <3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Time Takes You For Granted

Terra looks so different. 

No matter—Aqua has to fight. She can’t hold back when he summons red sabers of light from his palms, can’t falter when he hammers them against the staff of her Keyblade, can’t blink when canyon dust is kicked into her eyes, can’t be fooled by his face because this man is not Terra and couldn’t ever pretend to be.

He opens his arms to conjure a fatal blow—but he underestimates her speed. She’s grown up fighting large men. He is no big deal. 

The man with Terra’s face withers when she strikes his midsection. One arm grips his stomach to hold himself together and he brings his other hand up. Dark tendrils evaporate from the leather of his gloves. 

“As you wish,” he says to her, richly voiced, smooth as a river stone. “Friend.” He staggers to his knees, groaning as he flickers away.

“Terra!” Ven calls, too fast for Aqua to hold back. The man still wears that same black cloak that marks him as a member of the Organization.

The man shivers when Ven shakes him awake, a quiet “Aqua? Ven?” escaping his lips. He huffs out a hoarse chuckle that clutches out of pain, with a voice that sounds like a morning at the summit of a mountain. “Ven, you’re so short.” 

There he is.

“Terra.” Aqua rushes over. “Can you hear me? How do you feel?” she asks, checking for signs of physical injury, a refusal to use a limb, the inability to breathe. 

His breath stutters. “Aqua?” There he is.

“I’m here.”

He pants, opening his eyes—now blue again, his hair dark again, there he is. He jerks forward as if desperate to find her, but it’s like he can’t see her. In a drunk and feverish whimper, barely with the strength to sit himself up, he stumbles back. “Aqua. Aqua, I have to tell you something.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she says, checking his temperature with the back of her hand, “just rest.”

“No, I have to say it,” he mumbles. “I have to. I didn’t last time, I didn’t and look what happened—”

“Okay,” she whispers. “Go ahead.” 

He pauses, moaning, “I’m sorry. I love you.”

“What?”

Ven bursts into a fit of hysteria. “Perfect timing, Terra. Ten out of ten.”

But Terra seems unaware, straddling between the drift to sleep and the fight to stay awake. He nods as if to confirm, mumbling to himself like a baby.

Aqua stares at him, her heart itching to hear it again in case she misunderstood. She has daydreamed of this moment—not like this, anything sweeter than this but genuine all the same—and yet it comes to her like a splash of ice on the face. Terra is older. He has more pronounced cheekbones with less elasticity in the skin, folds of dimples and knowledge when his lips twitch, a thicker jawline, a stronger nose. A glimpse of the future, his long brown hair stretching past the shoulders, oily and excessively gelled up for ridiculous bangs. Aqua brushes his cheek with her fingers.

She should have said something years ago, too. 

“What’s going on?” a voice calls out. Riku’s. He skids to a stop when he sees them. “Is that Xemnas?”

The man Aqua fought never introduced himself, but he sure liked to talk a lot. Whoever he was, he’s not relevant anymore. “He’s delirious. We need help picking him up.”

“Wait a minute,” Riku says, approaching them with a smidge too much caution for Aqua to appreciate. “I’ve been fighting Terra all these years?” 

“Xehanort,” Aqua says quietly, wrapping Terra’s arm over her shoulders. She shuffles her knees. He’s too heavy. “You’ve been fighting Xehanort.”

Riku nods. It’s his way of apologizing. “Well. That sucks.” He offers to take the other arm. “Xemnas was the leader of the first Organization. A self-inflated piece of work… I didn’t know who he really was. I didn’t recognize him.” He pulls a smile to his face and nudges Ven with his elbow. “Sora and I made sure to give him a hard time.”

Aqua wants him to stop talking. 

Footsteps approach them, crunchy with the sound of sand and dirt, and Aqua braces herself for what’s to come. Riku whips around to prepare an explanation, but it’s none other than Kairi. 

She sees them with wide and round eyes. Brings her hand to her mouth. “Riku?” Kairi says specifically, asking him questions with her eyes in a private language Aqua can’t understand. 

He shrugs. “What do you want me to say?”

Kairi sits on her knees, her skirt too short to cover them from the dirt. “This poor boy. It’s not fair.”

Aqua purses her lips. Ven stares past everyone else. 

“We’re all getting punished,” Kairi continues like the sting of knowing that after all is said and done, Sora is gone somewhere and here are Aqua and Ven picking up their own brittle, little pieces. “Look at him.” 

Riku sighs. “I have space in my Gummi ship for him. But we need to be quick about it.”

Kairi gasps, wide-eyed. “That’s right.”

Aqua doesn’t want to ask why. Ven does it for her. “What’s up?”

“We can’t let the others see him,” Riku says.

Too late. Roxas appears on the other side of the clearing, heavy in breath. He’s sweet and gentle even when it seems like his mind is a distance away. He looks exactly like Ven but nothing like Ven, a grimness to his smile and a thoughtfulness to his speech like he’s seen and knows too much. 

Roxas frowns. “What are you doing?” 

“We’re helping him,” Aqua says as a matter of fact, flexing her ankles to stand up with Riku, shouldering half the weight. Terra stumbles on his feet, mumbling something about not wanting to step on any mice. “This is Terra, by the way.”

Roxas stares. “Why?” he asks accusingly. 

Aqua stammers. How this boy who has been ripped away from his own friends could ask such a thing— 

“Come on, he’s our friend,” Ven says. 

“You call him a friend?” Roxas points at Terra. “Do you even know what he’s done?”

Xehanort. What Xehanort has done, but Aqua stops herself from snapping. She says softly, “Terra would never—” 

“What if Terra saw what happened? What if he knew? Is he the type to be okay with that?”

She glares at him. No answer comes to her, except when Xemnas called her a Friend.

Kairi steps forward, arms out like a barrier. “He needs medical attention. We don’t have to talk about this right now.”

And they won’t have the chance. Xion slowly comes up behind Roxas. They’re both dressed in the same black cloak that Terra wears like it’s a mark, a forced tattoo. She has her hands cupped into each other, bringing them to her chest like they’re a shield. 

“Roxas?” Xion asks. She looks terrified.

“Forget it,” Roxas says, turning over and tugging her by the elbow. “This is dumb. We don’t need to care or be here.” 

Aqua refuses to fight this battle, not when Terra is wheezing and flinching as if he’s being crushed under mineral and earth. 

“Kairi,” Riku says solemnly, “just guide us back to the ship.” He says to Aqua, “If it’s any consolation, I think he would’ve done something if he knew.” 

Aqua nods, choosing to create solace out of his delicate comfort, if only to find the strength to drag Terra across the desert.

It’s a laborious but peaceful walk, what with Kairi talking about healing potions (I’ve learned some during training, maybe I can make Terra one?), and Ven excited about the first meal they’ll have together as a trio again (Pancakes, Aqua. Pancakes.), until they find Lea standing in front of the Gummi ship. He has his hands in the pockets of his cloak, and Aqua wonders if he’s concealing weapons. 

Lea is a double-sided coin. One side a mask with a running end of jokes and playful jabs designed to hide the other, steely and scrutinizing. 

“I promised myself I would never see Roxas that upset again,” Lea says, as if to blame them for breaking it. “I’ve never seen Xion that upset.” That brand of Lea-lilt in his voice, the one he uses every time he spits out Got it memorized?, is gone, and Aqua admits she respects him more for it. Lea nods over to Terra. “Shouldn’t we leave the trash where it belongs?”

“You’re really going to ask that when you’ve been pining all this time for Saïx?” Riku snaps. 

Lea laughs. “You might as well shave my entire head and tell people I’m ugly.” He chills over. “I’m no saint either, but don’t compare us to”—he points at Terra, not Xehanort or Xemnas or whoever—“him. You want to know what I think of Xemnas? He doesn’t deserve an ounce of the worst. The core of rotten fruit. The smell of ass after a trip to the bathroom. The pits of the ocean where all the fish shit clump together and the bloat of dead flesh float around.”

“Don’t mind him,” Riku tells Aqua and Ven. “He likes to exaggerate.”

“I like to make a point.” Lea steadies his breath, hot petrol on the verge of exploding, letting the steam lose pressure. “I like to tell the truth when it matters.”

Aqua glares at him. She doesn’t know Lea that well, and doesn’t know what matters of truth are supposed to mean. But she holds her head high. Her truth screams from the inside of her head. 

“Terra would never,” she announces. 

Lea scoffs. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ven trips on dragging fabric. They’re taking some of the Master’s old robes to Terra, who can’t fit into any of his own clothes anymore. The castle at the Land of Departure is stiff and quiet, like a long-lost stranger. Home isn’t home but a dream, a memory, a trip through aged photos.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Ven says in a sing-song voice.

“The Master was a large man,” Aqua insists. 

“Yeah, but Terra’s bicep is bigger than your head now.”

That’s true and… not something Aqua wants to think about—his body though, it’s impressive—not if she wants to hide the blush in her cheeks. Terra is huge now, the crown of her head reaching the base of his diaphragm. He’s so broad that if he hugs her, she’d disappear into the flesh. 

Aqua and Ven turn the corner and enter Terra’s room, who has a towel wrapped around his hips. He’s fussing with the wet roots of his hair.

“So much grease,” Terra complains, scratching his scalp with the pads of his fingers. “What the stars was this guy thinking with all this hair gel?”

Aqua stares at the wood of his dresser—not at how sculpted his muscles are (more than ever, actually). Not at the chisels and grooves on his back as he breathes and moves to grab a robe from the rumpled stack is Ven’s arms.

“That one will look nice,” Aqua says, eyeing the ivory color of the robe Terra chose.

“Might,” Ven corrects. “Might look nice.”

Terra snorts. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re bigger than a rhino.”

He laughs. He sounds the same. “All the more to terrorize people with,” Terra says and it wretches at her chest. 

“Glad to know you’re still an idiot.”

Terra slips his arms through the sleeves, pulling the robe over his shoulders and across his chest. It’s not flattering. The seams are stretched, the threads exposed, and it wears on his shoulders so tightly that the muscles form hills under the fabric. 

Ven points and laughs. “I told you. No one listens to me.”

Aqua pulls the robe off Terra’s shoulders when he slouches into his chair. She tosses it with the rest of the Master’s unfittable artifacts onto Ven’s arms. “Can you take care of these? I’ll stay and help Terra.”

Ven eyes her. With a knowing grin. Like an imp that should be slapped. “Do what? Put his pants on?”

Terra gapes. “What?”

“You’re obnoxious,” Aqua says to Ven.

“You’d miss me if I wasn’t,” Ven says with his nose high to the ceiling. He leans forward, the imp smile stretching to reach ear to ear, curled upwards. “But Terra would like it, wouldn’t he?”

Terra coughs and clears his throat. “Ven, get out.” He waves his arm—and a crash explodes before Aqua can understand what happened. Everything in his room—his shoes, the coat rack, the lamp by his bed, his pillows, books from the shelf, dirty laundry that hasn’t been washed in a decade, dust collected from the same amount of time—fly at Ven. The comforter in particular is what knocks him over.

“What was that?” Ven squeals, sitting up from the rubble. “What was that?”

Terra’s lip quivers. He stares at his hands. “I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Aqua says, bending over to stack books in her arms. “Ven, get a broom and some rags. We’ve got some cleaning to do.” 

Ven trips before heading off, like he couldn’t wait to get out. Aqua has a feeling he’s going to bug her for details later. 

“I’m so sorry,” Terra whispers, balling his hands into fists and shoving them into his lap as a preemptive measure. 

The Organization’s cloak sits thrown on the floor, still dusty. Aqua pads the excess off. 

“Don’t worry,” she says, pulling cheer from somewhere inside to lighten the mood. “I’ll sew you a new robe.”

Terra won’t look at her. He mumbles her a word of thanks when she hands his dirty cloak over.

“Leather can’t be scrubbed like everything else,” she explains. “I’ll clean it later.”

“It’s fine,” Terra says, holding it in his giant hands. He doesn’t move to put it on, and instead stares at the large mirror hanging over his desk in front of him. Aqua stands by his side. She’s tall, but she never once considered herself as thin, her frame skeletal by comparison. 

By comparison, she hasn’t changed.

Well, she has. Her smiles are not the same. 

Terra’s hair is messy, now with much more for her to brush her fingers through. She doesn’t try. “I don’t remember any of these,” he whispers. 

The scars. Knicks in crossed-over patterns across his chest and biceps. A rippled scorch mark by his elbow like a crater, a gouge on one side by the stomach, a deep ravine on the other, near the ribs. More on his back, a textured map for nowhere to go. 

“Not a single one.” His voice cracks. 

Aqua caresses his shoulder. Those scars are not stories he needs to hear. “What do you remember?” She actually doesn’t want to know, in case Roxas was right. 

“Nothing.” 

She wants to be relieved, but she isn’t. “Nothing at all?” In twelve years?

“No.” 

Aqua wraps her arms around his shoulders from behind him, aware of how he tenses at first and relaxes after, a puzzle piece fitting in exactly the right spot. “Where were you?”

“I don’t know.” He sighs, leaning his head onto hers. “I wasn’t anywhere, I… I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That’s fine.” Twelve years of nothing and twelve years living with nightmares; there’s not much to talk about. She traces a divot on his shoulder. “I know this one.”

“Yours,” Terra says. When he smirks that way, he looks the same as he always had.

“I stabbed you with a wooden sword.”

“My wooden sword.” He brushes his fingers on the scar. As if he’s reminded of something, Terra frowns. “I was just a kid.” He studies his skin on the reflection, pulling on his face with his fingers, watching the way the skin ripples, the sharpness of cheekbones, the dips and dimples that didn’t used to be there. There are thick streaks of silver underneath the outer layers when he brushes his hair back. He never asked for this. “Can we get rid of every mirror in the castle?” he whispers.

Aqua lets him go. The way he asks makes her want to try memory alteration, to slowly erase what haunts him so he doesn’t have to deal with harsh reminders or sudden blows to the mind. She forces herself to smile—if she shows distress, it would only upset him more. There is nothing they can do about the past and there won’t be a mention of what it’s robbed from them.

“Maybe just the one in here. I’ll help.” 

Terra stands up and takes one of his old, simple cotton shirts that he prefers when he goes to bed while Aqua tests the bottom part of the ornate frame. It won’t budge, heavy as lifting a boulder. 

“I look ridiculous,” she hears Terra say. The shirt is as tight as second skin, what used to sit on him loosely now gripping for dear life across his upper stomach, his belly button exposed. 

Aqua purses her lips, heat to her cheeks. “Do you remember waking up?”

“Where?” He’s layering the cloak over the scandal. 

“At the Keyblade Graveyard.”

“No,” he says. She’s known him for years. She can tell he’s sincere. “Why?”

“Just wondering how far your memory goes,” she says, playing serious. She’ll have to figure out a different way to bring up that conversation. “I can’t lift this alone.”

“Not a problem.” Terra grabs his side of the mirror and lifts it off its hook like it’s a single piece of paper.  He clears his throat. “Um—wow.”

“That’s impressive,” Aqua says, and Terra blushes purple. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aqua makes it back home in time for lunch, and finds Terra sitting on the bar that splits the kitchen from the dining room, wearing his cloak with the zipper open, no shirt and leather pants. It must be blistering hot in those considering the sunny weather. He’s complained about having to sleep naked. 

She presents him with several bags on the counter. Rolls of fresh cotton shirts and pants for lounging, nylon for sparring and wool for the winter. He splits a warm grin when he feels how soft they are. It almost brightens his deep dark circles. 

“I also found these gorgeous fabrics,” Aqua says, showing him the silk she means to make him a new robe in that same ivory color, with embroidered, rust-colored strips that she’ll use for the borders and trims. “This will look good with your armor.” 

“Let me show you what I’ve been working on.” On his lap are a set of the Master’s old hakama. Terra is attempting to tailor it…all through hand sewing, the needle swallowed by his thick fingers. The threads are bunched up and knotted over, if they don’t skip some parts. “What?” he asks. She must be making a face. “It’s ugly isn’t it.”

“Nothing that skill can’t help,” Aqua says, taking the pants from him and not apologizing for anything.

He taps the counter with his fingers. “Riku told me about Xemnas.”

Aqua stops the urge to groan, folding over the fabric carefully and pretending that name doesn’t boil her blood. “What did he say?”

“Xemnas was a telekinetic.” 

That explains some things. “Okay.”

“Apparently he could lift entire buildings.”

Aqua snorts.

Terra leans forward. “Hey, you can’t blame me for the back door.”

“But it makes sense.”

Terra has blown open said door. He has also destroyed historical statues and windows that are difficult to replace. He has even ripped a tree from its roots when he practiced his powers outside. The more he gets scared of these abilities, the more destructive he becomes. Terra’s body is not entirely sane on its own either—he’ll step on pebbles, on glass barefoot, and he can’t feel a thing. 

“Can you answer Riku for me?” He pulls the Gummiphone from his pocket, the device smaller than his palm. “The buttons are too small. I’m thinking of asking Chip and Dale to build me a custom-sized one.” 

She takes his phone, the screen smudged with his round fingertips, larger than her nails. “Are you going to stop training your new powers?”

He flinches. “They’re not mine.”

“Well...” she says gently, cradling his phone in her hands. It’s warm from his touch. 

“Not that I can control them.” He huffs, frustrated enough to crack the counter in half if he tries. 

“Why don’t you show me how far you’ve come?”

He glares at her. 

“The oranges.” She points to the kitchen on the other side of the room. Oranges, pears, and apples sit in a wooden bowl by the sink. “Pick one of them up.”

“That’s a little too much to ask for.”

“One tiny orange?” She smirks. “You can balance it on your pinky.”

He scoffs. “You talk as if you like me like this.”

Aqua clears her throat, suddenly deep in a trench that she can’t climb out of. “You can’t help what happened to you, but you can help yourself.”

Terra rolls his eyes. “Yes, ma’am. Stars, it’s like being in class again.”

“I’m pleased with that. Try sliding the bowl over.”

Terra leans his elbows onto the counter and opens his palms, his fingers curled like claws. What surprises her is how fast the bowl responds, like it’s channeling an emotional reaction, immediate and neurotic. It rattles, as if it weighs several tons under an ocean. 

Aqua looks over at his furrowed concentration, sweat glistening as though he’s wrestling instead of picking up fruit. “What’s stopping you?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

She smiles. “There was a day when we didn’t know what our Keyblades would look like. That was exciting and terrifying at the same time, remember?”

“You sound like the Master.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Terra grunts. “Fine, I’ll try harder.” Though he doesn’t have to prove anything to Aqua. Ever.

Terra waves his hands to the right and—disaster.

The bowl flips over and crashes into the fridge. 

Plates and mugs burst out of the cupboards, shattering when they hit the floor. Pots and pans soar, crossing the entire kitchen and slamming into the grandfather clock, destroying the glass casing and tearing apart the inside as gears sputter to the floor. 

The clockface nearly lands on Ven’s head when he enters with a glass of water in his hand. He freezes. It cracks when it hits the tile. Forks, spoons, and other utensils spin past him and stab the wall, the knives wedged into it. 

“Ven!” Aqua calls, running to him. He’s fine. If anything, he’s shivering from shock. 

“Ven,” Terra starts, scrambling up from the stool but he flicks his hands too quickly. The water from Ven’s glass splashes him on the face. “Stars, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” Ven says, wiping his face. “Worry about it.” He inhales. “You nearly impaled me.” 

“I’m sorry—”

“Sit,” Ven says, pointing at Terra. “On your hands.”

Terra does as he’s told, slumping his shoulders over as if to shrink. But it’s a parody, an elephant hiding behind a palm tree, a giant monster puppy rejected.

Ven looks over the destroyed grandfather clock—it was one of the Master’s newer ones, who developed a fondness for them late into his life. “This one was a stars-damned eyesore, anyway.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aqua is dressed in her shorts and shirt, preparing for bed when she hears another crash, this time a dull crack, breaking apart right outside her bedroom. 

Terra is carrying a door handle, still attached to shards of wood. He is furiously shivering, wearing the new clothes she bought for him.

“Terra, are you okay?” she asks gently.

With effort, he calms himself, the handle shaking in both of his hands, a hole in his door the only other thing amiss. “I can fix it.” His undereye circles are getting awfully puff, his voice broken by static. 

“You should really get some sleep,” she says, stepping out. 

He sighs forcefully, as if to ask her to stop. “I can’t.”

She nods. “It’s hard for me to sleep, too.”

“I can’t help but feel like my body is going to sleepwalk without me knowing.”

“I don’t think it would.” She smirks but it doesn’t comfort him. “I take rounds around the castle sometimes. I would notice if you’re a zombie.”

His lips quiver, and he squeezes the handle as if to snap it on purpose. He doesn’t. Terra turns to her but stares hard at the floor. In a voice so quiet that he sounds like a small boy, he asks, “Can you stay with me tonight?”

Her heart jumps, trying to wretch itself out of her chest. “Terra?”

“I want to sleep. I can’t. I think it would be easier if…” He fiddles with the door handle, a shy boy unable to speak. “If you were with me.”

Aqua smiles. He’s braver than her for asking. “I’d feel safer behind a locked door. Come in.”

On her desk is her sewing machine, the pattern of his new robe designed, his measurements already taken, the fabric put together in pins and ready to be weaved with thread. 

But there is a mirror in her room, and when Terra enters, he stops in his place. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, moving to pull one of her bedsheets to cover it. 

“It’s fine,” Terra says, but she’s too fast, balancing out the coverage. He slouches on her chair and leans back with a grunt. His fair falls behind him like a cascade. It’s always been wonderfully thick and dark. Aqua indulges this time, brushing it with her fingers, tempted to braid it. He audibly relaxes, and says, “Riku told me what happened in the Graveyard.”

Aqua swallows. “What did he say?”

“How Roxas and Lea reacted.” He gets quieter the more he speaks, words slipping into weak whispers. “To me.” Tears drip out of his eyes, running to his ears and down his neck. He sniffs. “Xion is terrified of me and I don’t know how to live with myself.”

“It’s not your fault, Terra,” she says softly, lightly rubbing his scalp when she sweeps his glorious hair, brown and silver like silk on her skin. It soothes him. 

“Kairi said the same.”

“Kairi is wise.”

“She wants to find a way to get us all together.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Aqua says, and he groans. “Let me figure out how to set that up. I’ll coordinate with her.”

“I don’t think that will end well.”

“We should try. We all have things in common and have faced similar hardships. We need each other as friends.”

“But look at me.”

She does. He’s beautiful. “I’m looking.”

“What am I going to do?” Terra has always been too sensitive for his own good. Aqua thinks about who she’d possibly call to help me. “They’ll never talk to me.”

“You’re already trying your best.”

“Aqua, I’ve been a beast since I’ve been home.” He rubs his thumb and fingers together. A body that fails him. 

“Terra, please, you’re fine the way you are.”

“Two more grandfather clocks under my belt and all the vegetables in the garden in my pocket,” he reminds her.

“Let’s try one more time,” she says, taking his hand. “I think if you could outwin your powers, you’d feel better.”

“Your room is too immaculate for me to mess with.”

“Not my room. On me.”

“Why would I do that?” Terra stands up. 

“I think if there’s a parameter that you’re forced to work under, you’d improve the way you want to.” 

Terra pauses. “And put you in danger?”

“If that’s what’s going to work.”

“I care too much about you to do that.”

“I know you love me,” Aqua says, startling herself. She shouldn’t have said that, especially now that he’s staring at her wide-eyed—but they’re best friends. Of course he loves her. Of course it’s the most natural thing to say. There’s not much more to imply. “You won’t hurt me.”

“Intentionally,” his voice croaks, looking everywhere around the room except at Aqua.

“What do you want out of your training, Terra?”

“I want to feel less like a freak.”

“Here I am.” She widens her arms. “Hit me with your best shot.”

“What if I fling you out the window like a rag doll?”

“You won’t.” Now she’s nervous he will.

“Or burst your skull open?”

“Then don’t.” Aqua swallows.

Terra sighs and runs a hand through his hair, the silver glistening from the light of her ceiling lamp. 

“Be gentle,” Aqua suggests.

Terra hesitates, one step too far behind necessary confidence. She takes both of his hands in hers, and he gives her a feathered squeeze in return. 

“Promise me you won’t break,” he says.

“Promise you won’t break me.”

He blinks back tears when he holds her waist, his hands a hearth through her thin shirt. He’s about to pick her up but he lets her go instead, intentionally widening his hands as if pulling strings. As though gravity has shut off, the air around her loses all weight. Her feet lift off the carpet and she’s suspended above her dresser, her limbs moving slowly as though she’s underwater. Terra trembles from so much concentration. He’s worried, delicate with her, lifting her up like a cloud drifting over a mountain, her desk distant like it’s inside a doll house, her bed too small for a body to sleep in.

She gasps. “Wow.”

Terra wrestles with a smile but every muscle is engaged as though he’s picking up a boulder. 

“You’re doing wonderful,” she says. When he looks up at her, he cries. “Now put me down. Gently.”

It’s like she’s asking him to drop that boulder, all collateral be damned. He groans, a vein throbbing on his forehead. He’s hesitant at first but he exhausts when he finally relaxes. The threads that hold her snap. Aqua falls. Terra catches her by her bare thighs. 

“You did so well,” she whispers, holding onto his shoulders. Dust collects on the top of her door frame that she’d never notice otherwise. “You’re so tall,” she laughs.

He sighs. “I’m so tired.”

“Oh, you can put me down.”

His arms stutter when he slides her off him, and he plops onto her mattress, the adrenaline making him tremble. But he smiles. That’s the most Aqua could ask for, and yet that’s the thing, for some reason, that unplugs the dam. 

“I know what it’s like,” she starts, resting a hand on his head. “I wish it never happened. I wish I didn’t have to meet Xemnas, or that I fell into Darkness. Or that anyone hurt you. We wasted all those years.”

“Don’t say that,” he says softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “You came back the same and you can redo all that time. Enjoy it.”

“But you?”

Terra sighs. He’s aged. He lays on her mattress, knees sliding off the edge and feet firm on the floor. “I’m okay. I’ve made my peace.”

When she settles next to him, she has to curl her legs in, fitting right into his side, her head on his shoulder. She relaxes to the way he strokes her hair. Peace shouldn’t have to be made. It shouldn’t be bargained for, it shouldn’t be difficult to win in a twisted game. But it is for most people, isn’t it? It is for anyone who’s been betrayed, who has suffered misfortune, who has been robbed or tortured, who has been fractured into pieces with no reason to justify it. 

Terra and Aqua have kissed before out of curiosity, years ago. It left her wanting more. And the wanting has led to yearning. And the yearning lingered on, Aqua choosing to wait for the right moment, for the right hour, for the right occasion, letting it all slip her by each and every time for the most mundane reasons. Terra and Aqua have napped together in the woods, in the shade of a tree after hours of sparring, shoulder to shoulder, one of them promising to wake the other before they’re late for their lessons. 

“If I ever get up in the middle of the night...” Terra starts. 

“Where is this conversation going?” 

“And I’m not actually awake—”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“—and I’m walking around like a zombie—”

“Pfft.”

“—please hit me as hard as you can.”

Aqua chuckles. This shouldn’t be a joke at all and yet what else is there left for them to do? “As you wish.”

“Promise me you’ll wake me up. No matter what.”

“Of course.” Aqua nuzzles her face into his shoulder, feeling the way his pec curves over rock-hard muscle. “Always.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They’re in the study, where some of the most outdated books in the castle find their home, for decoration more than anything.

Terra has new suspenders and hakama pants. The robe she’s designed for him, ivory with rust-colored trim, has one proper sleeve. The other is more of an open cape that curls under his armored arm, pinning at his shoulder like a shawl, made to show off the metal, burgundy and shiny. He’s elegant, tall and intimidating, respectable and warm. 

“I love it,” he says.

“You almost look like the Master,” Aqua says.

“Do you think he would have liked it?”

“I think he would have been proud.”

Ven knocks on the door frame, holding up an Okay gesture. “Nice getup.” 

Terra smirks. “It makes me look less scary.”

“Are you going to throw away the black cloak?”

Aqua flinches, pinching the robe and straightening it, though not because it needs it. 

“I’m still thinking about it,” Terra says. “It depends on how today goes.”

“Speaking of,” Ven says, and Aqua sighs. “Aqua, he’s here.”

As though all breath has been sucked out of the air, they fall quiet. The crackle of the fireplace snaps. 

“You doing okay?” she whispers to Terra.

He nods, but his skin turns green. 

“Just relax and get comfortable,” she says.

Ven follows Aqua to the entrance hall, where their guest has welcomed himself inside. Isa stands with a poise that demands to be matched with a level of professionalism. Aqua crosses her hands together and keeps them to herself.

“Thank you for coming,” she says. When she messaged him to be a mediator, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Lea and Isa may seem to be opposite but they are two peas in a pod that way. Lea is a book of riddles, one page contradicting its own backside depending on which version of him shows up that day. Isa’s book is blank.

“I appreciate your invitation,” Isa says, though an instinctual tick deep in her stomach tells her that appreciation was a difficult word for him to use. 

“Hey there.” Ven waves. 

Isa raises his eyebrows. “Hello, Ventus,” he says… and nothing else.

Ven glances at Aqua and blares a tight, awkward smile. “Okay. Well. I’ll leave you to it.”

After Ven leaves, Isa breathes, like he’s been holding it. “I suppose the rest of this visit will be similar.” The grin on his face is sudden whiplash for Aqua, his strict posture now with blurred edges. 

“In what way?” Aqua can’t quit the habit of letting go of her hands.

“Roxas usually wears a scowl. To see the same face greet me so warmly, it was quite the surprise.” 

“Ah.”

“But a welcomed one.” His intense green eyes drill a hole into her. “Believe me when I say that I’m more than happy to come here and see him for myself, though it puts me in a fickle position with my family.”

Aqua brings her hands to her heart. “I think Sora would want us all to get along.”

“If that’s the angle you want to approach this with, I’d say you have a moderate chance of convincing them.” 

She nods and leads the way. “He’s excited to meet you.”

Isa doesn’t reply. Terra is waiting on one of the lounge chairs in the study, telekinetically spinning pages on a book floating in front of him. He snatches the book as they approach him, and drops it on a nearby desk. 

Terra doesn’t say anything. Neither does Isa, who sits himself on a comfortable chair opposite and crosses his legs. Aqua, not knowing where to go or what to do with her hands, stands by Terra. She’s hoping for an amicable meeting, anticipating an interrogation.

Isa smirks and it’s not exactly inviting. “Shall we skip the pleasantries?”

Terra nods like a dog scolded. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says with a shaky voice. 

Isa hums, interlacing his fingers as he stares—rather studies Terra with scrutiny. “Do you remember me?”

Terra shakes his head, choking on a cough. “You’re asking the wrong person.” 

“Are you certain?”

“I know of you.”

“What do you know of me?”

“You’re with Lea.” Terra licks his lips and balls his hands into fists. He only gets this way when he’s being tested, when he wants to get every answer correct. “You’ve had a complicated history with Organization XIII.”

“Complicated,” Isa repeats. 

“You were a Nobody.”

Isa smirks coldly, much like how Aqua would have imagined from the stories she’s heard about Saïx. “We were brethren.”

Terra hangs his head. “I don’t know much else.”

“How is that possible?” 

“I don’t know. I resigned. It was so painful not to. I was nowhere. Nothing to have, nothing to see, nothing to hear. I waited for an opportunity for it to stop hurting—” Terra croaks. “And I woke up.”

Isa uncrosses his legs and anchors his elbows onto his knees, cupping his chin into his hands. “You’ve no memory of the command to manipulate Sora into vanquishing Heartless for us?”

“Why wouldn’t he?”

“To gather enough energy to summon Kingdom Hearts.”

“That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

Isa sighs, and Aqua swears it sounds like anticipation. “And the scar on my face?”

The way Isa asks demands an explanation, and Terra—sweet, sensitive Terra, whose eyes grow hollow—can’t handle the implication. 

“No. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He grits his teeth, staring at the armrest. Aqua stops herself from speaking and holds his shoulder. There isn’t anything for Terra to be sorry for. 

Isa closes his eyes, trembling. After a moment, he jams his thumbs into his eyes and stills, silence befalling all of them, settling among the gentle presence of the fire and the movement of the clouds outside. 

When Isa sits up, eyes glassy but kept together, he summons a smile. Softly, he says, “You look nothing like him.”

Terra, at a loss for words, nods meekly. “Did you keep it? The black cloak?”

“Of course not.” Isa scoffs. “We burned ours.”

Terra offers no condolences or congratulations. He smiles, exhausted. 

Isa stands up. “Please don’t tell me you enjoy white wine with red velvet confections.”

Terra recoils, popping into a laugh as though he’s cracked under the pressure. “That sounds like it tastes awful. I don’t drink. I don’t like losing control of my body.”

The sound of Terra’s laugh shocks Isa. “Sensible.” He addresses Aqua with a look. “I must go. This has been… rather cathartic, and I’d prefer to release it in private.” 

Terra bolts out of his chair, reaching out to cradle one of Isa’s hands in both of his. 

“Thank you,” Terra says, and though Aqua is behind him, she could hear the tears. “Please come back whenever you feel comfortable. I’d love to have your company.”

Isa nods, turning over his shoulder for the door.

The abrupt exit leaves Terra pleading Aqua with his eyes. “Did I say something wrong?” he whispers, slapping his forehead. “I couldn’t honor his experiences. I should have figured out a way to remember.”

“That’s not your burden to bear. It wouldn’t help you anyway,” she whispers back, gently gripping his elbow. “I’ll be back.”

Aqua trails Isa back downstairs, skipping steps. It’s as though he’s in a hurry to get back home. 

“Isa,” she calls. When he stops, she almost trips on herself. Her hands return to their crossover position. Something about Isa makes her so self-conscious, it’s indescribable how he can unravel her like this. “I wanted to thank you again for taking the time to come here.” 

His eyes are pink. “I will tell the others there is nothing to fear.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Lea is unbearably stubborn, but he is intelligent. He already knows Terra is not to be blamed. He simply hasn’t buried his demons yet and that is his responsibility.”

Aqua sighs, relieved. “I needed to hear that.”

Isa doesn’t smile. Instead, he traces a finger across the X-shaped scar over his nose. “Terra and I are forced to face our mistakes in the mirror for as long as we breathe. If we are ever to forge a new life from the ashes, we would need to throw our transgressions into a pyre.”

“I think your presence makes him feel less alone.”

“I want to apologize, Master Aqua.”

“For what?”

Isa considers his words. “Lea and I have lost so much of our youth to a worthless cause. It is not natural for us to enjoy freedom. We expect a harsher punishment to catch up to us any day now, to steal more time from us. Perhaps we deserve to live in fear of that every day. I certainly do.” He watches her. “I can see the story you’ve endured this past decade in your eyes. It’s horrific.” 

Aqua stays quiet.

“And Terra,” he continues. “He will age and die long before you and Ventus. I’m so sorry for that. The rubble we’re left with, it is such a weight for us to bear.”

She wipes a tear from her cheek, too proud to let them continue. “That’s why we need to make the best of it.”

Isa smiles; this time it’s warm. He holds her bicep. “I agree.”

“Will you and the others join us for dinner? Terra speaks for all of us, we’d love to have you around.”

“Bribe Lea with an extravagant experience and he will surely say yes. The children will follow once we assure them.”

Aqua nearly jumps to hug him but she keeps herself composed. Instead, she bows to him. His eyes pulse open.

“That was not necessary,” he says.

“You need to understand how deeply I appreciate this.”

“Lea was right. You old-fashioned wielders are certainly an odd bunch.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On her way back to the study, Aqua breaks into a sprint, desperate to fly so she could get to him as fast as possible, see his face when she delivers the news.

Terra sulks by a window. Before he could say anything, Aqua jumps and throws her arms around his neck in a clash of grunts, her legs dangling. 

“They’re going to join us for dinner,” she says. She can’t tell if she’s the one who’s trembling or if it’s Terra. Because her arms are wrapped around his neck, she drags him down with her when he relaxes. He rests his forehead on hers as he leans over her, his hair falling around her like a curtain. 

“Stars,” he whispers. “It’s happening?”

She smiles into his cheek. “He wants to bring everyone with him.”

He squeezes her by the small of her back. “We’ll have to invite the others too. Riku and Kairi. Naminé. It will be a feast.”

At the sound of his own words, Terra straightens out, and their fleeting moment of excitement vanishes as quick as it graces them. He nervously clutches a handful of his hair. “Wait, how soon are they coming?”

“Is something wrong?”

“I want to wear it in a ponytail.” He brushes his hair up, exposing the silver near the scalp. “Do you think it’s possible to dye it?”

That’s what makes him so insecure? Aqua stands on her toes to fiddle with the hair. “Come on. It’s a little tedious, but it can be done.”

Aqua snips the necessary plants from the garden, and after grinding them, she dumps the blend into a mix of water and animal fat. Terra slips his robe off and bends over the kitchen sink, letting her sweep the dye with a paintbrush and pinch it across the strands of his long hair with gloved hands. This is the tedious part, separating his hair into thin chunks and being diligent enough to leave nothing untouched. 

“It won’t last for long, right?” he asks, shifting his weight.

“I can find a spell to seal it and make it last longer.” She nudges him to turn his neck over so she can work the other side. In this direction, he can look up at her.

“This feels like I’m cheating.” 

“I think we all cheated. We all came back by some star’s blessing.”

Terra frowns. “When Isa wanted to know if I remembered anything, I felt like I was playing a rigged game. Like I had gotten away with it so easily when he’s stuck with them on his own.”

“Bend your neck forward,” she says, and he follows so she could brush the dye into the back of the scalp. “Well, Isa doesn’t blame you and no one should. And you do get away with certain things.”

Terra flinches but she keeps her hold on him. “Like what?”

Aqua pinches more of the dye into the hair at the neck, wrapping a towel around his shoulders. He will have to pass the time needed for the color to sink in. She can’t wait until he sees it for himself in the mirror. She can’t wait until he smiles more, until he can walk with seeded confidence. 

“You can stand up,” she tells him, instructing him that it will take almost an hour for the dye to settle. She pulls out her gloves and considers an answer to his question. “You get away with what you say sometimes.”

Terra gapes. “Did I offend you?”

“No.” She smirks. This has never been the way she daydreamed it would go—she had prepared a scenario where they would talk about it under the stars in a clear night, in the spring where the flowers have blossomed. Not with yet another shirt that they’ll have to replace.“You told me you loved me that day in the Graveyard.” He doesn’t flinch. “And you don’t remember saying that either.”

The bowl of dye rattles and Aqua catches it from falling over, spilling the excess into the sink and rinsing it. “Terra?”

“Uh.” The cupboards shake as if about to spill open. Terra grabs the knife block and throws it into the fridge, just in case. “Well.” He splays his hand over the handle and burns it with a fire spell, molding the metal together so it can’t burst open. “I’ll fix that later. Um. It’s—” He tips over the fruit bowl so nothing will fly out in different directions. He can’t look her in the face, taking deep breaths. “I mean. It’s not—it’s not a lie.” 

Aqua waits a moment, afraid another word is going to make the oven explode. “I should have told you the same.” She bites her lip. 

“What are you saying?” The burner grates of the stovetop blow up and hit the cupboard over it. “All this time, I could have known?”

“Maybe you should have done something about it.” 

“I’ve been driving myself crazy wondering how you felt. Ever since we came back home.”

“And you said nothing?”

Terra stares at her. “You know what—I’m not protecting you from the oranges.”

“What are you doing?” She chuckles.

He flips the bowl back and waves his arm, five oranges punching her on the arm that she’s using to shield herself.

“Terra!”

She stumbles as the oranges bounce back from the floor and arc over to hit her again. Terra squeezes his fists and the oranges unpeel themselves, sputtering juice all over her face, a tart taste filling her mouth.

Aqua laughs and runs into the dining room, ducking behind the table.

“Get back here,” Terra calls. He rushes into the dining room, clumsy enough to be caught off guard when she charges at him. 

Aqua has to jump higher, kicking off his chest to flip over. The goal is to slam her foot across his face—the best sparring trick in her arsenal. Terra catches her by the ankle but his balance is tested when she bends her knee to throw him off. He’s stronger, a tight grip on her calf. They both fall onto his back, a tower broken in two and collapsing on itself.

Aqua rests her head between his chest, giggling so much that her chin digs into his thorax. 

Terra groans, his soaked hair leaving brown tracks over the tile. “You got some on you.” He rubs a thumb on her temple where it meets the base of her hair. “Hmm, you’d look good as a brunette.”

“In your wildest dreams.”

“If one can come true, then you never know.”

Aqua holds herself up on her elbows. Terra is so large, he’s a mattress in the middle of the dining room floor. Streaks of dye draw across his cheek. They leave what look like slashes across his neck. It’s going to take some scrubbing power to remove them. She sweeps some of the hair off, not caring about the stain it leaves on her fingers.

The next move is natural. A touch of lips to lips, careful and giddy, puckered and softer than she expects, two hands on her back and a powerful jaw under the grace of her fingertips. 

Ven opens the door and gags. “Ugh, all the stars in hell, could you do that in your room?” He turns on his heel and stomps off. “I’m too young for this.”

Aqua snorts into Terra’s mouth and he spits. “I’m sorry,” she says.

Terra licks his lips of juice. He leans up for more. “You taste tangy.”

[myblueeyedbuggers]

My Boys

Chapter 7

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14

Pairings: Reader x Steve Rogers (best friend) Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 1780

Warnings: Slow Start, Language, Tiny bit of Fluff

Summary: After being abandoned by her parents in Brooklyn in 1929, y/n makes a living for herself by working for the Црни лабуд gang until she meets two boys in a back alley and her life slowing begins to change

Hi again, so yesterday definitely didn’t go plan at all, I was caught up in way too much work and by the time I’d finished it all it was 4 in the morning and I had to get up at 6 for college. My apologies for the lack of a chapter yesterday, hopefully this was worth the wait though :) Enjoy Everyone!

Readers POV

It was sometime in the early morning when Becca same flying into my room, I could feel my mood change from one of complete and utter boredom to one of happiness, I swear down this little girl could manage to make the grim reaper smile. Her black hair bounced behind her as she hurried to climb up the bed, instantly crushing me with a tight hug, “Y/n! I missed you so much! I’m sorry for not coming sooner but Mama and Papa said you needed more time to rest” her bright eyes glossed over as she rushed out her apology.

I actually felt my heart clench at her words, which to be honest was a bit concerning, her little face scrunched up into a frown and I instantly pulled her into a hug, “Sweetie there’s nothing you need to say sorry for, if anything I should be saying sorry for leaving you for so long with those silly boys! I can’t imagine how bad they must have smelled! Oh, my lord I’m feeling faint even thinkin’ about it!”. Instantly the frown on her little face vanished, her giggles echoed in my ear as she fell backwards onto the bed clutching her stomach, my smile was almost wide as Bucky’s ego. Almost.

Once she’d managed to calm down enough, Becca crawled back up the bed and climbed under the covers before cuddling up next to me, my arm instantly wound around the younger girl as I placed a small kiss on her hair and in that moment, I felt at ease, finally complete as the little girl cuddled further into my side.

Mrs Barnes POV (Surprise!)

A gentle smile spread across my face as I watched my girls, both excitedly chatting back and forth about their favourite things, the half-completed scarf forgotten to me as my mind wandered to the talk George and myself had last night. Both of us agreed that we would never be able to pay y/n back for protecting our boys, but we both noticed one particular trait about her, she tended to protect everyone but herself. It was almost as if she valued everyone else’s life above her own, it made me worry about what she’s had to have gone through to value herself at such a low rate, maybe it’s my motherly side coming out but there’s this constant urge to protect her. The knowledge of her not having a family weighed heavily on both my soul and my heart, even thinking about it broke my heart, and that’s when George and I made our decision. We wanted her to be apart of our family, protect her in the same way she tried to protect both our family and our boys, after everything the poor girls been through it’s the very least we could do.

After a while I noticed the room was unusually silent, my head turned towards the girls and my eyes were met with a sight that made me want to weep with joy, both of them had fallen asleep, Y/n’s arms were wound around Becca protectively as the younger girl cuddled closer to y/n’s side. I kept my gaze on the girls, committing the moment to my memory as my heart swelled with delight, a wide smile played on my lips as I picked up the scarf started to work on it determined to give y/n a welcoming gift.

Time Skip

Steve’s POV

“Yeah sure Buck, like I actually believe that!” Bucky was goin’ on about he fought off 10 guys at once in school today, the way he was tellin’ it had me in stiches as he claimed he “knocked em down with the strength of the devil” before finishing the fight with fireworks goin’ off behind him. “I’m bein’ serious Stevie! You shoulda seen their faces when I pulled out my sword and started chasing em…how much of this you belivin’?” he finally stopped his rambling when he glanced at my face, completely blank as I looked at him with my eyebrows raised.

Seconds of silence passed, “You can’t letta a guy be dramatic for one second?!”, I’ll admit I didn’t expect him to fall to the floor and start waving his arms and legs about while cryin’ about me bein’ a spoil sport, but I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t funny. I was doubled over with laughter, nearly crying as I joined Buck on the floor, the pair of us struggling to breath from laughing so hard.

The sound of a door opening along with an exasperated sigh made us both shut up immediately, glancing up I was met with the sight of Mama Barnes, a small smile on her face as she looked at the both of us expectedly, waitin’ for us to get off the floor. “Normally I would ask both of you what on the name of earth you were doin’ on the floor, but I’ve seen you do some stupider things so at this point I’m not surprised”. Buck shared a look with me before facing his mama, a sheepish grin on his face as he tried to explain why we were acting dumb, Mama just shook her head at us and ushered us inside y/n’s room, tellin’ us to keep quiet.

3rd Person POV

Both boys entered the room, softly shutting the door behind them as they turned around, neither expecting to see the sight before them, Bucky and Steve’s younger sister was curled up next to y/n, both girls had a relaxed, peaceful expression on their faces. The blankets were wrapped around them both, the younger of the two using the older girls chest as a pillow shifting slightly as the older pulled her closer to her side, unconsciously wrapping both the blanket and her arms around her in a bid to keep her warm.

Soft smiles graced the lips of both boys, watching the two girls as they slept peacefully, the blonde-haired boy noticing the older girl shiver a tiny bit from the change in temperature, as quietly as possible he made his way towards them. Carefully, he unwrapped a small part of the blanket from the younger girl and repositioned it over the two of them equally, tucking the edges into the bed frame before glancing behind him at his friend.

The boy with the brown hair hadn’t moved an inch, his entire body refusing to move in case the sight in front of him suddenly disappeared. His blue eyes never left the face of the older girl, taking in her immense beauty was enough to stun him for hours, his gaze roamed over her face in a leisurely way, absorbing how perfect she looked when sleeping. Any attempt to gain his attention failed, his mind too clouded with the image of her, a soft warm feeling settled in his heart, growing stronger with every second he stared at her.

Once the blonde-haired boy realised that he wasn’t gaining the attention of his friend anytime soon, he followed his friends line of sight, letting out a small chuckle as he turned his head towards the boy’s mother, sharing a small knowing smile as she watched her son from the corner of her eye.

Time Skip

Readers POV

The veil of sleep slowly cleared from my mind, hushed voices grabbed my attention as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, my eyes made contact with Mr and Mrs Barnes, the sound of the lads doing somethin’ stupid filled the background. Both of the parents smiled at me, I wanted to sit up but Becca was still asleep, and I couldn’t find it in my heart to disturb her from sleep, “Y/n, sweetheart, the doctor came in while you girls were sleeping, he said that you’ll be able to leave tomorrow after a few more check ups and tests, and we wanted to ask you somethin’.” I felt my head tilt to the side in confusion, maybe it was about the medical bills, I mean a stunt like this couldn’t have been cheap…

“Sweetie, we were wondering if you’d like to join our family, there is nothing in this world we could offer or do to thank you for protecting our family, so we only ask that you let us return the favour and protect you.”

I could feel my jaw drop to the floor, my eyes watered with tears as I nodded my head frantically and pulled them both into a hug, crying into Mrs Barnes’s chest while thanking her over and over again. The bed dipped even more as two more pairs of arms joined the hug, the hole in my soul left as I came to the realisation that I finally had a family to call my own, a sudden shout of excitement broke us all out of the hug as Becca tackled my side, knocking me flat out on my back.

“I FINALLY HAVE A SISTER! YAY! MAMA I HAVE A SISTER!” Becca’s joyful cries made us all laugh, quickly clambering off me she started running ‘round the room, only stoppin’ to do the odd celebration dance. A tap on shoulder distracted me from Becca’s antics, “So how’s it feels to be apart of the Barnes Clan?” Steve’s face met mine with a joyful smile, I not so subtly rolled my eyes at him before bumping my shoulder with his, “Thought I joined the clan the minute your friend over there carried my ass to the front door”.

Steve let out a small snicker as Bucky’s head shot up as he playfully glared at the pair of us, choosing to make his way over while his parents were distracted with Becca, “What was that Doll? From what I remembered I oh so bravely carried you to my home while you pelted with punches and cute little threats” excuse me, CUTE ?! there is nothing cute about me threatening to rip your soul outta your body Barnes!

A cocky smirk appeared on his lips as I narrowed my eyes at him, “you do realise that you’re now stuck with me now Barnes? If I was you I’d be sleeping with one eye open” outta the corner of my eye I saw Steve bring a hand up to his face and cover it while shaking his head, since when did that bugger get sassy?! Instead of taking my threat seriously, Bucky smiles as his puts his arm around me with a shit-eating grin on his face, “You know you love me doll, heck how could ya not look at this face!” now it was my turn to facepalm.

What the hell did I just agree to?!

Things have finally started looking up for the reader! Thanks for Reading :)

Rose xx

[stevesnailbat]

I haven’t even seen any fics about Steve and male reader running around the mall and hiding from the Russians, maybe they both escape and eventually kiss (the feelings be real what they are feeling) and this(instead of robin could be both of their coming out parties) and then maybe nsfw??? Cause Steve is daddy

warnings: slightest mentions of homophobia, mentions of violence, smut

word count: 2.4K

a/n: this is my first ever male reader fic, i hope it’s up to everyone’s standards! enjoy :)

Everything was blurry and painful as Y/N opened his eyes, slowly becoming aware of the fact that he was tied up in a chair inside of an underground Russian base. He realized where he was eventually, realizing that impending doom was upon him. What he heard seconds later was what fully brought him back to reality, a pained groan from someone behind him. He remembered that they had been down there for what seemed like an eternity, and that both of them had the living shit beat out of them not too long before.

“Steve?” he called, trying to reach his hands that were tied behind his back to touch the boy behind him. “Harrington, I’m gonna need you to talk to me. Are you alright back there? Are you hurt? Please—“

“Jesus, Y/N. I’m fine, just a little beat up, that’s all. No need to start your nervous rambling.” Steve groaned bluntly, rolling his head back, leaning it against his.

“It’s a little too late for that, Steve.” he joked coldly, his hands still trying to reach for Steve’s in a frantic manner.

Before either of them could say anything else, more of the guards walked in. Y/N was sure that he had a major concussion at this point, that or his eye was just swollen shut, because he could barely see what was happening around him in enough time to react to it. That was when he felt Steve’s finger reaching for his own, hooking their pinkies together in a comforting way. Y/N couldn’t really remember all of what happened after that, but he knew Robin was dragged in and that they injected them all with something that was supposed to make them tell the truth.

The next thing Y/N could remember was Robin and Steve giggling about how the drugs not working only, that was when he realized he had it way worse than the two of them. He was still spinning in and out of consciousness as the Russians came back in and threatened to pull Steve’s fingernails off. He was coherent enough to follow them through the tunnels after being set loose when Dustin and Erica saved them, but that was as much as he could do.

The elevator ride made him feel nauseous, but being in the movie theater after was what made his head feel even worse. Still, he followed Steve wherever he went, in a daze as he heard mutterings from him and Robin.

“Y/N—Y/N. Come here, check this out.” Steve said as he stared up at the ceiling in the mall, the swirl of blue lights mesmerized him as he reached for Y/N’s hand.

He stood next to Steve staring at the lights for a moment, the lights dazzling him just as much as they did Steve and Robin. His hand was ripped from Steve’s when he ran towards the bathroom, leaving Y/N alone in the hall. He started to feel nauseous soon after the other two sprinted towards the bathrooms, so he followed suit but neither of them noticed.

Y/N laid on the bathroom floor, listening to Robin and Steve talk in the stalls next to him. Most of the conversation was a blur, but he brought himself back to reality when he heard Robin ask if Steve had ever been in love before. When he said Nancy’s name, Y/N’s stomach twisted in a knot. It was hard enough to see Steve flirting with girls at work all the time, but thinking about him with Nancy was even worse. He’d been holding back his feelings for so long, but it was hard for him not to flirt with someone as playful as Steve.

It was unheard of for Y/N to even think of bringing up sexuality to Steve, but it was something on his mind a lot. He caught lingering glances in his direction from Steve one too many times to think that he wasn’t interested in the slightest, but he’d never bring it up.

“Are you still in love with Nancy?” Robin asked.

“No.” Steve replied bluntly.

“Why not?” Robin questioned.

“I think it’s because I found someone who’s a little bit better for me.” he chuckled, making Y/N’s heart drop as he thought of Steve finding someone else. “It's crazy. Ever since Dustin got home, he's been saying, "You know, you gotta find your Suzie. You gotta find your Suzie."”

“Wait, who's Suzie?” Robin interjected.

“It's some girl from camp, I guess his girlfriend.” Steve said. “To be honest with you, I'm not 100% sure she's even real. But that’s not—that's not really the point. That doesn't matter. The point is, this person, you know, the one that I like, it's somebody that I...didn't even talk to in school. And I don't even know why. Maybe 'cause Tommy H. would've made fun of me or...I wouldn't be...prom king. It's stupid. I mean, Dustin's right, it's all just a bunch of bullshit anyways. Because, when I think about it, I should've been hanging out with this person the whole time.”

The room was silent and Y/N nearly stopped breathing for a moment, trying not to ruin the moment for anyone. He wasn’t really sure who Steve was talking about, but his heart was racing at the possibility of it being him.

“He’s—They’re just smart, way smarter than me, and so funny. They’ve made my life better and I’ve had the time of my life this summer with them, I just—I don’t know if I’d be able to tell them.” Steve scoffed.

“Steve?” Robin said quietly, unsure of herself as she spoke.

“Yeah?” he replied.

“Did you just say he?” Robin asked, making Y/N’s stomach twist into knots again.

“Yeah—Yeah, I did say he, didn’t I?” he laughed, leaning his head against the stall closest to Y/N. “I never thought I’d admit it, but yeah. And—And it scares me how much I like him.”

“Robin, did you just OD in there?” Steve asked after a long silence, knocking on the side of her stall.

“No. I am still alive.” she replied, laughing to herself a bit. “It’s okay to be scared about your feelings for a guy Steve, I am too.”

“About me?” he questioned, making her laugh again as she slid under his stall to sit next to him.

“No, Dingus.” she said softly, shooting a sympathetic smile in his direction. “I’m scared for myself—my feelings about girls scare me too.”

“Are you saying—“

“Yes, Steve. I am too.” she replied, shaking her head at his confusion as she chewed on her lip. “And you know what? It’s okay that we’re scared. But you know who’s probably even more scared right now than we are?”

“Who?”

“That someone you found who’s better for you.” she said as she leaned down to peer under the stall, seeing Y/N’s feet near hers in the next stall over; he had been listening in shock the whole time. “He might actually have OD’d in the stall over.”

Y/N had his eyes closed when Steve slid under the stall to him, but they fluttered open slowly when he felt a warm touch on his bruised cheek. They didn’t have time to say anything to each other before Dustin and Erica barged in, seeming very annoyed.

The more times the two of them faced death that night, the more they wanted to be alone. It made them realize what they were missing out on for so long and what they really needed. But they fought, they fought to live to see the day where they would be able to be together. Y/N still wasn’t seeing straight, but he was strong enough to push past it because it meant that he was one step closer to being with Steve.

The medics checked Y/N after the battle was over, confirming what he already knew to be true. He had a severe concussion, which meant that he wouldn’t be able to drive himself anywhere. Steve was nowhere to be found for a while after coming out from the mall, but he was searching for Y/N just as much as he was looking for Steve. He eventually found Y/N, rushing over to him as soon as he did.

“How do you feel?” Steve asked, sitting next to him on the tailgate of the ambulance. “That’s a stupid question, I know you don’t feel good. Do you need me to drive you home?“

“Yeah, that would be great.” Y/N replied with an exhausted smile on his lips.

The car ride was relatively silent for the most part, as both of them were trying to figure out what all had just happened with them and the Upside Down. Both of them lived in Loch Nora, but Y/N felt the need to be with Steve for the night.

“Can I stay with you tonight?” he blurted out as they pulled into the neighborhood, making Steve nearly slam into the brakes at a stop sign. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah of course you can. Honestly, I was hoping you would say that.” Steve chuckled, smiling sheepishly over at him.

They got ready for bed in a peaceful quietness, neither of them daring to say a word. It felt like things were alright again, but Y/N thought saying something might ruin it all, like Steve might change his mind if he said anything wrong.

“Listen, Y/N.” Steve said hesitantly as he pulled the sheets down on the bed, the hesitancy in his voice making Y/N a little uneasy. “I—I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” he implored, watching the doe eyed boy cautiously from the other side of the bed.

“I don’t know, for not telling you I guess? I’ve known for a long time that I’ve felt this way but—“

“Steve, it’s okay. You were scared, I get it. I know you and I know who you’ve been around for the first nineteen years of your life. You thought that someone, your parents, your friends, people around town, would judge you.” he cut Steve off, grabbing his hand as he gripped the sheets between his fingers. “I understand, I was lucky to have people like you and Robin and my understanding parents to support me. It’s not like that for everyone, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to cope with bottling it all up for so long but I just couldn’t take it any longer and now—fuck—now I just want you. No, I don’t want you, I need you, all of you.” Steve said desperately as he grabbed Y/N’s hand tighter as he kneeled on the bed.

“Steve, you aren’t thinking straight—“

“No, but I am! I know that I really like you and that I haven’t felt this way about someone in a long time.” Steve exclaimed, tugging at his hand lightly again as he followed and knelt on the bed.

It was sudden, but needed when their lips collided. There was a sense of urgency behind the kiss, like their lives were still in danger and they’d never get to feel their lips together again. It was hard for Y/N to believe that Steve actually wanted him, but it was happening, it was really happening. Everything was happening so fast that he barely realized his hand wandering down to Steve’s boxers until he felt him moan into the kiss. Steve mumbled under his breath as he pulled away from Y/N’s lips, pressing kisses along his jaw slowly. He stopped Y/N by grabbing his hand, making him furrow his brow in confusion.

“I want to do this for you, okay? You’ve had a rough few days, finding out about all of the true crazy in Hawkins, I want to do this for you.” Steve insisted and Y/N nodded, laying back on the bed as Steve palmed his length through his shorts. “I gotta hear you say yes.”

“Fuck, Steve. Yes, please, just do something.” he mumbled as he locked eyes with a very excited Steve.

Steve wasted no time in pulling his shorts down, taking his length into his hand as Y/N moaned loudly. There was a smirk on Steve’s lips as he leaned down to kiss Y/N, getting whines of pleasure from in response to his movements. Steve’s tongue danced across Y/N’s bottom lip before biting it gently and pulling away after. Steve looked nervous for a moment, but Y/N cupped his bruised cheek and smiled up at him reassuringly.

“It’s your first time doing this, I know.” he chuckled, making Steve blush a bit. “It’s alright. You’ll do fine.”

“I know I will, don’t worry.” Steve said as his confidence boosted immediately, smirking lightly. “So sit back and let me get to it.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll let you—Oh fuck.” Y/N said, cutting himself off as he felt Steve take him into his mouth.

His movements were more forward than Y/N expected, but Steve was confident and wanted to make it great for both of them. He started out slow, though. He took half of Y/N’s length into his mouth at first, getting adjusted to the feeling as Y/N gripped his hair while biting back a moan. It didn’t take long for him to get used to it, so he sped up soon after. Y/N almost came at the sight of Steve taking his whole length into his mouth at once, but stopped himself. He wanted the moment to last a while.

Steve hadn’t done anything like this before, but he knew exactly what he was doing. The swirl of his tongue and the use of his hand were done to perfection, making it hard for Y/N not to come.

“I want you to cum, babe. You don’t have to hold it back anymore.” Steve said before licking a stripe up his length.

It didn’t take long after that for Y/N to reach his high, gripping Steve’s hair tightly to hold him down as his cum hit the back of his throat. A string of curse words left his mouth before he let go of Steve’s head and relaxed, staring up at the ceiling as he caught his breath.

“Was that good?” Steve teased, already knowing the answer as he pulled Y/N’s shorts back over his hips before crawling next to him in the bed.

“That was more than good, it was pretty fucking amazing.” he replied, laughing tiredly as he turned to Steve. “I want to make you feel good now.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” Steve said, cupping his cheek as he noticed his tired eyes and raspy voice. “I want you to sleep now, we can do that later. You need sleep, alright? I’ll be right here when you wake up and we can finish where we left off.”

“Alright.” he sighed, letting Steve pull him into his chest as he pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Sweet dreams, Steve.”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.” Steve sighed contently.

[lstories]

Timor and Cole

No Fear story (part 1)(fearplay)

"The dragons of emotions, feared and respected around the world. The family was most respected in China and Japan as most of the world doesn't believe in the supernatural. The part's of the world that do belive make offers of everything the dragons might need as to not offend or upset them. The dragons lived in peace with the humans but never showed them there true form unless they needed to feed. Every dragon fed off the emotions and feelings of humans to keep the emotion tied to them in check for the world. If they didn't feed off of their preferred emotion or went too long without feeding the area around them would become corrupt with that feeling. That doesn't mean the dragons didn't feed of regular food as well but they didn't need to feed off as much as their size should've needed. All the dragons were respected for what they did, be it help or hinder the world. Some religions called them monsters and some called them God's. People everywere told stories and legends of them, some of great kindness from some and terror form other's. In China a whole year was named after them but it only encouraged there already massive egos, and because of that they tried to live in the most special parts of the world. The tallest mountains, the oceans, in cityscapes where they would pretend to be human or in dense forests where humans would dare each other to trek. Story's of old have been falling out as the age of technology was setting in and people believed less and less. This ment less hiding and more spectacular acts from the dragon's for all but a few.

A younger child named Timor, was the dragon of fear. He could change his form to anything he wished and create monsters and structures out of seemingly nothing so he could more easily scare humans. Because of a disagreement with his family, they banished him from coming back to the temple but this had happened before. Timor had to travel the world to find a new home, it took him nearly weeks to find a nice forest to make overwhelmingly scary in a almost empty town in (sigh)...... Oregon. A small town surrounded by forests with a smaller forest in the middle of the town where he made his temporary home. There is about a few thousand people here but it is fun to mess with them sometimes. A few missing animals found on the other side of the middle forest, a few missing road signs, and scarring the occasional drunk lingering outside the bar for a quick meal. An adult always makes for a bigger meal than a child but a child's fear always tastes better.

After he left his family he got quite lonely. No amount of minor fun he could have in his forest could compare to just talking to his family. So that's why I'm here, talking to you." Timor said, boredom covering his face after his story. The small orange ball with a crude mud face drawn on slightly shifts and falls on its side. "Great comedic timing Garrett" the dragon said with a small grin. "I'm hungry. I'm going to get a snack from town, you want anything while I'm out" he said while stretching his back "....." "Fine I'll get you sushi" He said trying not to sound upset. As he got up, he let the trees he was holding with his tail go and as they flung up into there original position pine needles sprinkled over the slightly burned ground. As the moonlight came back to the forest his black scales shone bright enough to light up the surrounding ground of the forest that would usually be covered by the trees. "you always want something fancy and its hard to get it back here before it breaks" he said under his breath without looking at the ball. "........" "Yes, you do. You always do" he yelled back at the ball with a single claw pointing at it. "......................" "NO I DON'T! You know what, I'll just get you a fried salmon" he said fully yelling at the ball while walking away. "....." "Oh screw off and I'll see you later"

Cole's POV:

"What I thought was going to be a nice Friday has now turned into that day" Cole thought. Every month it's something new. The 3 boys that always tormented him were his classmates. Everyone calls them Butch, Brock, and Brutes because no one knew there real names. He just decided not to call them by there real names anymore. Last time, they where framing him by breaking into the arcade and locking him in the extra prizes closet. Now there dragging him by his arms while riding there bikes. Only 2 of them were dragging him while the 3rd was tailing behind. Cole's jeans where ripped and his knees where bleading since he had to alternate between his knees, heels, and the sole of his foot. His brown hair was a tangled mess in the wind and his jaw was going numb from holding it tight for so long. He was on the verge of screaming but he knew that if he screamed or called for help they would start dragging him by his legs. They've been dragging him for almost 20 minutes and his legs felt like they were going to burst into fire.

Cole knew were he was but he had no idea where the were taking him or what they would do to him this time. Cole couldn't hear a car, no shouting neighbors, not even someone walking on the sidewalk. The only thing Cole could hear was the laughter of the 2 boys carrying him everytime he struggled to lift his feet up or maybe break free of there grasp and a few dogs barking when they passed a house with some. He tried talking about it but his teachers never cared about anyone except the teachers pet. His parents were only concerned about their daughter who was now the CEO of some big business and there drug addicted middle son. There wasn't a lot going on with Cole that his parents knew of so they didn't care to much.

Once they started to stop Cole began to open his eyes and see they were at the public pool. As they got there they dropped him flat on his face directly onto the cement. Butch picked him up and pinned him to the fence while Brock ran off to the edge of the nearby woods. Brutes, the one tailing them was more or less the ring leader. He carried a lot of tools including a par of bolt cutters he used to break the lock off the chain link gate. They dragged Cole to the edge of the pool and started to talk like Cole wasn't awake "hey I think his legs need some medical attention" Butch said with a wicked grin. "Ya, we should clean it off" Brutes said while walking over to the janitors closet. Brutes reached into his backpack and grabbed a mallet that he definitely stole. After a few swings he was able to break the entire door handle off and get into the janitors closet grabbing the nearest cleaning supplies he could. "This should do it" Brutes said while walking back over to Cole and Butch, cleaning supplies in both hands.

A minute later, Brock ran in and stumbled dropping all the rocks he was carrying for the group. He seemed scared to his core but he was hiding well enough from the other 2 but not enough to hide it from Cole. He knew what was coming and tried to get away but was still being held down by Butch. Brutes began to pour the cleaning supplies into the pool, grabbed Cole and jumped in. As they got to the surface, Cole couldn't move his arms and his legs and feet were being destroyed by the extra chemicals in the water. Brutes didn't feel a thing, he couldn't, he was born without most of his pain receptors and would always do the painful things for the group. Coles needed to keep his mind off the pain, it was the only way to get threw there torture. The forest always calmed Cole down. He memorized most of the outer edges of the woods neer the pool but this time when he looked back it was different. A few of the big branches were gone and he swore he could see some faint lights near the base of the trees. He didn't get a long look at the forest before he started getting pelted by rocks. As he jolted by the new pain in his chest he looked back to see Butch and Brock getting ready to throw more rocks. Stone after stone was thrown at Cole and Brutes, a few of the sharper rocks cut into Coles arms and hands with the water immediately surrounding it. After about 20 seconds of rocks being thrown at him he heard Brutes tell the others to stop. Cole could feel every impact point and his legs being burned from the inside out. Cole didn't have much time to think or react as Brutes pulled him under the water.

Cole tried to fight him but he didn't know he was going under and didn't get a full breath before being pulled down. He didn't want to let out the little air he had so he barely fought back. As he was fighting with what little he had left in him, Brutes grabbed Cole's head and opened his eyes to the chemicals. Cole tried to scream but couldn't with the little bit of air left in his lungs gone he had to get to the surface. Before he could move thow Brutes climbed onto his shoulders and jumped out, pushing Cole deeper down. As Cole finally climbed to the surface he was gasping for air and coughing up water struggling to move his lungs enough to breathe. Cole heard the bikes begin to move but couldn't open his eyes to see them.

The pain was started to get to Cole. It hurt to have his eyes open and he needed to get the chemicals off of him. Cole knew that there was medical supply's at the bottom of every life guard tower, he just had to find it. Cole looked as shut as his eyes could be. After a bit of searching and stumbling he found the supply box and forced it open. He found some eye drops in the with the rest of the supplies that anyone at a pool could need and more. Once he was able to force his eyes open enough to put the drops in all he could feel was euphoria from a lack of pain. Then the pain of his legs kicked in. The burning was unbearable but luckily there was bandages and gauze in the box too. He was used to this, those 3 would always do this sort of stuff. Cole wasn't the only one on the receiving end, there were 4 others the boys would go after. Logic dictates that they would all be friends and go back after the bullies like in books and movies, but not even the outcasts would be friends with Cole. "He's to cold and he doesn't seem feel anything. He's unnerving and unsettling and bad things seem to happen all around him." That's the other kind of stuff they said. Cole never bothered to memorize what they said because they would just say it again some other time. As Cole got the second bandage on his other leg he knew he had to get the chemicals off himself as soon as possible.

Cole found a small water fountain and hose by the side of the concessions stand people used for filling up water balloons that he had to use to wash cleaning supplies off himself. As he finished up washing as much as he could he felt like he was going to pass out. Cole needed to take a full shower to get the rest of the bleach of his skin and he really wanted to sleep, he needed to get home as soon as possible. His home was over 2 miles away from the pool and that was by going thru a forest. He knew if he went around the forest he would probably pass out so going thru the forest was the only option he had if he auctly wanted to sleep comfortably tonight and not have chemical's sleeping into his cuts. The water was starting to freeze on him, it might be July but the nights are still cold. Cole got up and walked out of the gate, he thought back to the fire works he saw a few days ago. His family very rarely ever got together but it was still nice when the did, everyone marvelling over the lights in the sky. He was walking along the outside of the fence, his mind raced back to the lights he saw in the trees. As he walked onto the edge of the forest he saw the broken branches, gashes in the trees, and large holes definitely made from something sharp and long, and very recently. Cole was never really afraid of anything but this was probably as close as he was going to get as his mind raced thinking of what could have made this. He used the thought of what could have made them to keep his mind off the pain and cold and soon he could see them, deep in the forest were the lights. Intrigued by the lights he knew he had to follow.

Timor's POV:

Timor's new favorite place to get food was at a small building that had some very tastey food covered in some crinkly coating. The building was next to a lake with some not so great tasting water so, he found another pond to drink from that was still in his forest. There are some fish in there too that he named and liked to talk to. "Grace, Gina, Gemma Gwen, and Genny with a G" he said just before taking a drink from the small pond. The fish were swimming around the pond rapidly as Timor came closer and further to the the pond. He talked to the fish as if they were close friends finding each other while shopping. "Ya, nothing big's been going on for me either but I did finally finish moving in with Garrett." he said while looking at the shiny fish before taking another drink. As he took one final sip he accidentally drank one of the fish while it was swimming by. He had to admit to himself that it felt nice having something moving around in his mouth, and it tasted great. Hunger almost got the better of him and he almost ate the fish whole. He let it swim in his mouth for a bit before letting it out "Oh, uh, s-sorry umm Gemma". As he said that he realized he was apologizing to a fish. At this point he knew he had fully gone insane. So he just walked away without saying anything else. He was fully alone.

As Timor was about to exit the forest he saw a group of humans. Three of them were on a small movement machines and the fourth was being dragged by his arms and bleading from his legs and feet. Timor was able to blend in with the forest just before anyone saw him. He tried to watch what they were all doing but there were to many branches in the way. One of the kids were running over and all Timor could think of was if the kid saw him and about how hungry he was for both food and emotions. When the kid came to the edge of the forest Timor was already halfway up the tree but the kid was just picking up rocks. Timor needed to feed off someone's fear so why not. He couldn't just roar at the boy otherwise the other's might hear him. He also couldn't have the boy scream or else the other's might hear him, but he could tempt the boy further into the forest. Timor started to break a few branches off of the trees trying to get the boys attention and after a few branches the boy looked up to see but saw only the trees rising and a dark night sky. As the boy was about to start running back Timor began to claw at the back of the trees while still invisible but the boy didn't seem to notice what was happening. As he ran back to the other humans, Timor saw that they somehow got into the the small lake that was surrounded by metal.

Timor watched as two of the boys jumped into the small lake. One of them seemed to stare directly at Timor and soon the two outside the lake stated to throw the rocks at the two in the water after a bit the two in the lake went underwater but only one came out for a bit. The second one was coughing up a lung as he crawled out. It started to freak Timor out so he ran back off into the forest. He watched the minor action from a far. After a minute the three left and the last one was stumbling towards one of the large towers next to the small lake. Once he got to it he began to open the small box on the side and began putting something in his eyes and putting some cloth over his knees but he ran out before he could cover his feet. The boy got a small rope and sprayed more water into himself. The boy walked out of the small lake sand got to the edge of Timor's forest and so the boys trek began, threw the forest where nightmares lay in wait and horrors untold lurk.

Timor knew his eyes glow in the dark and he would use that to start. Timor thought the boy would follow his eyes and he was right. The boy followed, trying not to fall while just walking. Timor would help the boy but only after he got his meal. Timor knew he had to be scarier and floating lights weren't going to cut it. Timor started to climb the tree behind him backwards while never taking his eyes off the boy until he reached the near to where all he had to do was close his eyes. Timor was able to stop the noise he made from jumping off the tree to the ground and started a spell. Timor watched as the boy walked past the tree where his eyes disappeared. Timor had to get in front of the boy before he could start his nightmares. It wasn't much of a problem as the boy seemed unfazed by the experience. Timor thought that anyone of his monsters could scare the boy, so why not a monster created in a mental hospital.

Cole's POV:

As Cole walked into the forest the lights he saw never moved or faltered. It was like staring at headlights of a still car but they didn't give off any surrounding light. The forest was still the same dark black and the ground was mushy and covered in pine needles but still not fully visible due to the dence trees. The lights were like a laser pointer, only shining into his eyes. As Cole drew closer to the lights started to go up one of the trees and vanished near reaching the top. He didn't have time to think of it, he knew he had to get home as soon as possible. Looking into why there were lights in the forest wasn't something he could afford to do right now, but he couldn't stop thinking of them. What were they, where did they come from, why did they leave. At least thinking about it kept his mind off the pain. While his mind raced he heard something to his left. A tall slender human thing was standing not even 10 feet away. Cole immediately ducked behind the nearest tree for cover but he didn't know if it had seen him. It had to be at least 8 feet tall and its arms and legs were out of proportion in every way. Its hands were too big, almost cartoonish in a way but it was covered in flesh like the rest of its body. Its forearms were slender, it didn't have any feet, its chest was just a ball with no features. It had no head but it had long thin legs. It wasn't bright enough to see the creature more clearly but Cole could tell it didn't have any skin and it was red everywhere. He didn't know what the crimson monster was but he knew he had to get out of there.

Cole studied the creature for a minute, but it just stood there. It was slightly swaying, barely even moving and it didn't seem to be able to stand uprite without help from something. Cole couldn't hear breathing or a heartbeat, the only sound it made was a small rustle when its nubs moved a bit over the pine needles. Cole tried to steer it away by throwing rocks in different directions but the creature never moved. Cole had no other options than to run or fight. Cole wasn't going to try to fight a monster, even if he wasn't feeling like an ice pack and the bruised cut it was trying to soothe. Cole needed to sneak past the monster, trying his best to stay out of sight and hide from the monster before running. As he tried to slip away the creature seemed to immediately notice him and without warning or preparation the monster barreled towards him. Not even the monster seemed to know what it was doing until it started to gain speed. Cole started to run as fast as he could with road burned legs and feet. With every ounce of strength he had left, he used and for once he started to feel frightened. As they ran, Cole could still only hear the nubs of its feet on the muddy ground. Cole looked behind him and the monster was gaining on him, not even a foot away but as he turned away he ran directly into a tree. Cole thought that one mishap would be the end of him as he started to turn around and slump against the tree. As he looked up the monster was gone. Nothing but his foot prints and small holes left by the monster. His leg felt like it was broken and he couldn't feel his chest. All the wind was knocked out of him and the feeling from the needles and pinecones tearing into his feet were becoming worse.

The pain was almost unbearable and he couldn't focus on anything for more than a few seconds. He was starting to realize how cold he was, the midnight air and the wind rushing past him froze the water still clinging on him faster. As he looked into the deepest parts of the forest trying to forget what was happening he saw movement. The canopy started to sway harder in the wind and the shadows of the branches seemed to move and cover the light. As the darkness began to set in, the last shadows of the trees seemed to move and make a tunnel of darkness. The last bits of light began to fade just as his eyes were getting used to it. Once the forest was pitch black and the tree Cole was leaning on became colder than when he sat down, there they were, the lights. The two orbs came closer and closer to him never faltering and never swaying the world was silent for a moment. No wind, no heartbeat, no breathing. It was still. And when the lights were right in front of him they seemed to talk. "Why are you not afraid" they said in a deep booming voice, but it almost sounded... fake?

Timor's POV:

Timor had one of his monsters chasing the boy thru the forest. A schizophrenic nightmare made real he found tormenting some hospital back in china. He had the monster staying right after the boy but just behind. The boy had barely felt any fear at all, he seemed to feel was the instinct for survival. Timor would not be denied some food by a kid. As they ran the boy looked back at the monster to see if he was alright and the split second he looked, the boy ran directly into a tree. As the boy slid down the side of the tree the monster raised a meaty hand and was about to kill the boy before Timor vaporized it, turning it back into a sort of dream essence. Timor looked back at the kid, bloodied, beaten, and freezing and knew he had to help now. Timor blacked out the sky and the forest, crouching so low his neck was almost touching the ground to be at eye level and stalked closer to the boy. This type of thing had happened before with his victims of fear, someone hurts themselves and are to badly injured to go anywhere and need help. He puts them to sleep and heals them with some magic his family taught him. Once they wake up there in bed and it all seemed like a bad nightmare. Timor never had problems scaring anyone, let alone some small kid before, so why this one he wondered.

Timor needed to know why this kid wasn't afraid of what just happened. "Why are you not afraid" he asked in a deep voice. trying at the very end to get the tiniest amount of fear out of the boy, but instead the boy started to chuckle while still shaking up a storm. "What's so funny" Timor said angrily still in a deep voice. The boy began to laugh "I-I'm about to d-die and the lights t-that take e-everyone away is t-talking to me in a f-fake voice". Timor was growing increasingly angry and was about to speak, but before he could the boy said "a-am I the star o-of a h-horror g-game or is this a n-nightmare" he said about to start laughing again before clutching his side in pain as a small drop of freezing water rolled down the injured skin. Timor grew furious and reverted back to his true form. The darkness that enveloped the two of them drew back and reverted to normal shadows. Timor's scales started to shift at his nose first and became visible again, and like a wave the rest of his scales started to shift and turn until his while body showed. "Y-your... a d-dragon" the boy said still shivering. "I am the dragon of fear mortal" Timor said in his normal voice.

Timor saw confusion come over the boys face but still not fear. "Could the boy not feel fear" he thought still angry that the first warrior to beat his monsters at there own games of fear was a child. "W-What do y-you want f-from me" the boy said, unable to sit still any longer. "I want to feast" Timor said while trying to look unfazed. "And you will do for a light snack" Timor said, now bearing his teeth and getting up to pounce. Hunger had finally set in as he had nothing to eat food or emotion wise in over a week. Timor had to get some fear from the boy, anger and hunger filling his mind only stopped by his reasoning. Timor only had to take 2 steps to finish the distance between him and the boy. Timor picked the boy up, lifting him high into the air. "If I ate you right now, no one would know and the nightmares haunting the forest would stop anyone from looking. So scream, beg for your life because you will be dead soon" Timor said trying to get any fear out of the boy before he would heal him and take him home. "I-If you were g-going to do a-anything, y-you would have d-done it by now. Your j-just stalling" said the boy with a smug smile, his teeth still clattering. Timor was fully engulfed in anger and hunger, and a human was mocking him and denying him food. Timor's mind was filled with the thought of food and he needed to eat. With the boy still raised, Timor open his mouth and dropped the boy headfirst into his maw.

Cole's POV:

The shadows seemed to pull away, slowly falling back on the branches that owned them. The lights in front of Cole started to gleam and just in front of the lights the air started to move. Scales started to flip over from nothing and become visible to Cole. A head was created out of nothing it seemed, the lights were the eyes of something huge. The boy could almost fit entirely in the jaw of the monster. It had thin needleish spines going along the back of its neck and as it began to back away and sit thin Cole noticed the monster's silver chest. Cole saw wings appearing from the top and filling out the air before tucking into it's back. The claws where sharp and long, deffenetly the thing that made the holes by the edge of the forest. The monster was a dragon, it was stoic and regal but its eyes seemed distracted. "Y-your... a d-dragon" he said trying not to shiver. "I am the dragon of fear mortal" it said in what Cole could only assume was it's real voice but, it still didn't seem right.

Cole's mind raced as thoughts filled his mind. "Are dragons auctly real. Was the monster he saw made by the dragon. Why would it show it true form now." The dragon watched Cole as he thought, and it knew what Cole was thinking. That made Cole wonder tho, "If it's the dragon of fear, why isn't it scary". The dragons face was still the same so there was no mind reading. "W-What do y-you want f-from me" Cole said before trying to move to run away. "I want to feast" the dragon said. Its face didn't change but its eyes were showing all the emotions Cole needed to see. "And you will do for a light snack" the dragon said slowly standing onto all four of its legs while bearing its teeth. It didn't even have to take a full two steps before it was right in front of Cole. The dragon picked him up with its... hands? Paws? The dragon held Cole between its claws and the pads of its front feet. They were warm and surprisingly not covered in mud or pine needle's. It would almost be comfortable if he wasn't almost 20 feet in the air with something sharp on his chest. "If I ate you right now, no one would know and the nightmares haunting the forest would stop anyone from looking. So scream, beg for your life because you will be dead soon" the dragon said, its claws pressing down harder.

Cole knew the only way to escape was to make the dragon mad. It might drop him in anger, or it might kill him also in anger. "I-If you were g-going to do a-anything y-you would have d-done it by now. Your j-just stalling". Cole knew this would probably be the tipping point for the dragon. Cole read that dragons were driven by the emotion they were connected to. As long as Cole didn't show fear witch wasn't hard, he could try to escape while it was mad. Cole was great at making people feel the emotions he wanted them to, and it seemed to work too well. The dragons eyes were burning with rage and its face was angry like Cole never seen before on anything. The dragon opened its mouth and turned Cole upside down, dropping him head first in the dragon's gaping maw. Cole fell, trying not to hit the sharp teeth of the dragon, landing directly onto its tongue. It was warm, and very wet. The pink walls surrounding Cole were pulsing and a constant heartbeat was audible further down in the dragons body. Cole tried to escape pushing back at the dragons mouth and trying to pull himself out with his feet. "This is the worst Friday ever" Cole said while in the mouth of a dragon.

[toomuchponytail]

Caretaker/reluctant caretaker having to force feed a whumpee pain or sleeping meds bc they're panicking too hard to listen to reason and/or keep refusing to take meds out of fear that its poison

Anon! Thank you for submitting this! I really like this one, (I actually think I’m going to do forced sleeping pills soonish in addition to this one because I liked it so much--you could say it is my jam this week, lol) I hope this is sort of what you were hoping for? 

Thank you for being awesome! 

I hope your day is hot sand and cool water, the duality of beach days, both the sand and the sandwich, hopefully not as one entity. 

I wish you the strength to get through the bad knowing that the good is on the way, waiting in the wings, and that your feet don’t burn with all the steps you’ve taken on this weary earth. 

But if they do I wish you lake water, deep and dark and refreshing. 

Take both care and smooth stones from all the beaches life gives you. 

Enjoy! :D 

Hero pulled into base as the sun crested over the city with all the enthusiasm of a convict returning to prison. 

He sat in the car as the engine cooled, scrubbing a trembling hand over his face, his eyes felt like they were full of sand, the muscles in his arms and shoulders burned fiercely when he shifted to open the door, he walked up the path to the door on legs that felt like rubber. 

As he fumbled briefly with his keys he began to fantasize about falling into bed and just sleeping for ten--maybe even twenty four hours, it would beat the hell out of what he was doing ever since super villain had resurfaced, catching sleep half hours at a time during the day, or while off watch at base. 

He’d actually managed to do something last night, catch a few of super villain's guys robbing the Gadinia st. bank, when he’d questioned them after stopping them one of them had actually given him a lead as to where super Villain’s base was. 

It was a win--one he’d follow up on after he’d gotten some sleep, he wasn’t much good to anyone like this, let alone the whole city. 

He set his keys on the counter, pouring himself a tall glass of water to try and cut the dust he felt in his throat. 

It was oddly peaceful in base today, the main room was actually completely empty in fact….Where was everyone else?! 

Hero jumped into high alert, glad he hadn’t taken off his cuffs when he’d entered like he normally did, he began to methodically sweep the building, room by room, clearing it in the unnatural silence. 

His mind, though sharpened by adrenaline was still in a buzz of exhaustion, it felt like his thoughts were traveling to him through a mesh sieve. 

Had his team told him that they were going to be somewhere else? He couldn’t remember that, but he wasn’t 100% sure either. As he cleared the last room he heard the door burst open, followed by the voices of his team, all of them talking at once in a wall of frantic sound that made him more nervous than he had been in the silence. 

He rushed to the mainroom hearing the sounds of desperate struggling, was one of them injured? What was going on?! 

“Where were you!?” One of the other heroes called to him accusingly when he rounded the corner, the other hero was helping leader, their sidekick, and two other heroes contain the heavily struggling antagonist who was bleeding badly from a wound somewhere in his side. 

The antagonist was panicking, trying to push the other off of him, there was an odd wild disconnected look in his eyes, they looked scared and lost, like a hunted animal. 

“I didn’t--My phone got smashed, what happened?” Hero stuttered, blinking as his team fought the antagonist into the room and laid him on the couch,  as soon as they tried to let go of him he tried to bolt, struggling to escape as if his life depended on it, only to collapse to the floor, not strong enough to get anywhere. 

Hero hadn’t seen the antagonist in more than a month, they’d been so preoccupied by super Villain that they hadn’t even checked up on their regular nemesis’s whereabouts. They could see that the last few weeks hadn’t been kind, they were much thinner than they had been the last time they’d seen them, their eyes were wild and shone with raw panic, they were mumbling half spoken pleas in a broken painful croak of a voice but they sounded resigned, like the mercy that they were begging for they didn’t expect. 

“Stop! No more, no more! Please!” They groaned, turning away as best they could. 

The other hero made eye contact with hero over the weakly struggling antagonist, “We don’t know,” they said grimly, “We found them collapsed in a dumpster, an informant called it in.” 

“Can you bring in some bandages hero?” Leader asked, they were trying to put pressure on the antagonist's wound, they pulled up the antagonist's shirt, trying to get a better look at what they were working with--what they saw made them gasp, all the sound in the room died, hands loosened their hold on the antagonist enough for them to pull away and curl in on themselves, pulling as far away from the heroes as they could with a choked groan. 

The antagonist’s torso and back were ripped to shreds, covered in raised angry welts and ragged edges of flesh that wept blood. 

They’d been whipped, burned, beaten, hero wasn’t sure what was worse, they swallowed hard to keep from being sick, leader had gone pale, they looked down at the blood on their hands, the antagonist writhed with agony behind them, seemingly in too much pain to stop moving. 

Other hero had stepped back when the wounds were revealed, “Who’d do something like that?” They whispered in horror, watching as the antagonist’s movements grew weaker, the shuddering more pronounced. 

“Super Villain would, if they wanted something from them,” Hero stated through clenched teeth, “We’ve got to do something!” 

“First we do this,” leader snapped, steeling themselves to the task at hand “Bandages, please.” 

Hero went to the medical cabinet, retrieved rolls of bandages, a bowl some warm water, a cloth, and a small bottle of strong pain relievers.

When Hero got back into the room leader had positioned other hero, their partner, and the others to what were hopefully less painful holds for the antagonist. They’d gotten their better holds on him, in his weakened state is wasn’t difficult to restrain him anyway. 

“Look around antagonist, it’s us, hero’s over there, you’re safe,” other hero tried to reassure, but the antagonist didn’t seem to hear them, they were still trying to pull away, babbling weakly in supplication. 

Other hero winced as they tried to hold the antagonist gently, they didn’t like thinking that in their struggle to control them they’d hurt them even more than they were hurt already. 

Hero handed the supplies to leader, who took them grimly, hero sat by the antagonist’s head, keeping them from whipping it from side to side like they had been, they smoothed the antagonist’s sweaty hair away from their face.

“N-no,” the antagonist groaned, when they felt leader gently grasp the bottom of their shirt, when the leader started to remove their shirt, unsticking it from their wounds the antagonist screamed, ragged and broken, hero winced, feeling a pang of guilt, he couldn’t help but feel responsible for this. He took two of the pills from the bottle and placed them in his palm, “Antagonist? Can you hear me? Hey, you in there?” he tried to keep his voice from shaking. 

“No, no please,” the antagonist choked out, “I don’t--can’t! Please! No more!” 

“We’re helping you okay? Can you take these for me?” Hero held the drugs up for the antagonist to hopefully see, but the antagonist didn’t seem to understand them. 

“Please,” they begged,“I can’t take it anymore.” 

Hero set his mouth grimly, taking the antagonist’s jaw in his hand he opened it gently, forcing the pills inside the antagonist's mouth despite the antagonist’s weak thrashing. Hero hoped that the antagonist wouldn’t choke, but they needed them to swallow those pills, they were delirious in their current state, too out of it to know that the heroes were helping them. 

The antagonist tired to spit out the medication, but hero clamped their hand over their mouth, they struggled violently for a moment, perhaps thinking they were being drugged by the people that hurt them, but they couldn’t keep it up for more than a few tense seconds, they didn’t have anything left. 

The antagonist swallowed the pills, sagging into themselves in both defeat and bone-deep exhaustion, when the leader started to gently wash their collection of wounds the intensity of the pain only helped to send them into unconsciousness. 

The antagonist passed out hurting and held down in a strange place by foreign hands that he didn’t have the strength to fight anymore. 

[rainbowwritesthings]

A Place On Earth

Yanking the door open with Butchers name on his lips, he came face to face with MM and Butcher standing a bit of a way behind him. The events that lead to that point crashed into him and his heart became deafening in his ears, he could feel the knife buried into his ribs but couldn’t feel the object no matter how much he grasped at it. 

Second chapter of I Just Died In Your Arms Tonight.

Hughie stared blankly at the ceiling, blinking at the shocking white that surrounded him, everything felt numb and he was brought back to when he had gotten his wisdom teeth removed years ago.

Awareness took its time visiting Hughie and when it granted him enough presence he sat up with a grunt, his chest felt oddly tight for some reason and when his hand brushed a certain area he shivered.

Some deep part of his lizard brain was screaming at him that something was wrong, that he needed to get up and leave now. Hughie had successfully gotten out of the bed when he noticed his attire, plaid pajama pants and an oversized shirt that he had never seen before.

The numbness was receding and with it Hughie realized he wasn’t in his apartment, he was in one of the safehouses. Yanking the door open with Butchers name on his lips, he came face to face with MM and Butcher standing a bit of a way behind him.

The events that lead to that point crashed into him and his heart became deafening in his ears, he could feel the knife buried into his ribs but couldn’t feel the object no matter how much he grasped at it.

Hughie couldn’t breathe again; his lungs were filled with blood and it caked his throat as thoroughly as tar. A hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder and Hughie fought it back with a strangled shout, loud buzzing was just barely audible over his heart.

Instead of Soldier Boy a very blurry but familiar face swam into his view, blinking hard and rubbing at his eyes Hughie was better able to see the man kneeling before him. The familiar rumble and what it was saying was lost to Hughie, as was the expression the man wore. Hughie forced air into his burning lungs.

“I- didn’t.”

It was too hard to breathe, he was drowning again, the bones from his shattered ribs were pressing into his only good lung. “I didn’t know. Swear to god I didn’t-.”

The way Butcher had looked at him with horror filled his mind and spots danced around his vision, from his shaky gaze he watched Butcher rise and walk off.

Fuck, was the man going to bring out his crowbar to see what he could come back from?

MM was suddenly kneeling before him; both his hands were held up and his posture was purposefully non-threatening. His lips moved continuously, and Hughie found himself trying to focus on them. When MM saw the spark of awareness, he tried to help the man out.

“It’s ok now, just breathe. In and out. Ain’t nothing going to happen to you while I’m here. Easy Hughie, in and out.”

He began taking exaggerated breaths and Hughie tried to match them with unsuccess, time disappeared and was filled with Hughie taking in shuttering breaths to match MM’s exaggerated ones with occasional praises from the medic about how Hughie was doing.

Finally oxygen was reaching it’s necessary locations in his body and Hughie realized he was sitting on the floor. He glanced around the room wide eyed, searching for something but even Hughie didn’t know what he was looking for.

MM had lowered his hands and gave the man a small smile, “there we go. Now, I’m going to grab you some water ok?”

Hughie gave a jerky nod and as MM rose to retrieve said water, he wondered where the rest were. Though he mainly wondered were Butcher had stalked off to after his brief appearance. MM made sure he was noticed before he crouched in front of him, every move was steady and easy for the shaken man to be able to track.

When he held out the water bottle Hughie thanked him, though he knew that his words were likely to jumbled for the other to understand when even he, the man speaking couldn’t understand what words escaped his lips.

It wasn’t until Hughie was reaching out to grab the bottle that he realized how badly his hand was shaking and he needed both hands to even grip the plastic. He took two sips under MM’s watchful eye before setting it down now to him, most likely making sure the man didn’t drown while trying to drink.

Hughie had calmed down from his earlier moment of panic, but now fear had replaced the panic that consumed him.

“What- “

He cleared his throat in hopes that the other words he had to say would come out less cracked.

“What’s the plan?”

MM rose an eyebrow at the question and Hughie wished he would just rip the band-aid off and tell him already. Explain to him how they were going to finish him and what they would do with the pieces, logically Hughie knew his true corpse would most likely resemble Translucants’s remains.

“So far the plan is to stay low, figure some things out before putting together a real plan on how to take care of SB.”

Despite MM not saying the full name, Hughie still flinched and saw those hazel eyes staring absolutely bored over his whole existence. MM didn’t say anything but was watching Hughie intently after discussing the groups plan of action, no matter how flimsy it currently sounded.

“No, I mean- What’s the plan for me? How are you going to-“

Hughie couldn’t finish the question. The words got trapped in his throat, stuck around the thick blood that was creeping ever forward. His chest felt tight once again.

MM wasn’t looking at him now but when he did look at Hughie his eyes displayed his inner distress, “Hughie man, we ain’t going to kill you.”

Hughie felt a sudden burst of hysteria.

“Don’t lie to try and protect my feelings MM. I fucking died alright?! Yet here I am! I’m a godamn Supe and who the fuck knows what powers I have. You, Frenchie and Kimiko may learn to be ok with that but Butcher-. He stared at me like I was a monster and I’m with him on that one.”

MM’s face morphed into a scowl, he obviously wanted to fight everything Hughie had said but instead he bit his tongue, and he shook his head.

“Almost everything you just said was bullshit man, and you need to listen close when I say that no matter what you can do it’ll never make you a monster.”

Hughie believed that MM believed his own words, but that didn’t change the fact he was a Supe in a relationship with a man who hated Supes more than anything. Personally he would rather everything that was going to happen, happen now rather than waiting for months for the other shoe to drop.

When it did Hughie doubted there’d be much left of him anywhere- and oh god his father.

“Ok, ok. Look MM you need to promise me something.”

The man gave him a long look before sighing, “I won’t promise anything ‘till I hear what it is. I learned my lesson a long time ago with Butcher.”

Hughie nodded and took a steading breath before he went forward.

“Look when I die for real and permanently, however that works. You have to give my dad an actual body to bury. I don’t care if Frenchie fixes up a mannequin, he won’t look that close once he thinks it’s me, but he needs a place to actually mourn at. I don’t- he can’t spend the rest of his life waiting for me to come home, he doesn’t deserve that.”

Somewhere in Hughie’s youth he developed an intense fear of going missing, not just because of what it meant for Hughie and the whole human trafficking thing. Mainly the fear surrounded what effect it would have on his father.

Hughie’s mother walking out the door and dissolving into the mist had crushed a large part of the man’s soul. If his son were to do the same, it would destroy whatever was left of Hugh.

MM looked at him with a hard expression before he let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah, I promise.”

Hughie let out a breath of relief, at least his father would find some semblance of peace though he knew it wouldn’t ease the pain. MM was staring at him again and Hughie gave him a weak smile, which caused the man to shake his head and stand up.

“I don’t know what’s goin’ on inside that head of yours, but I can tell you it’s way off.”

Hughie let out a small huff of laughter, and MM looked down with an odd expression.

“Now first of all, don’t panic. Butcher has something he wants to say to you. We’ll all be in the other room just in case things go south, but you should hear him out.”

Instantly Hughie’s heart picked up, thrumming adrenaline throughout his body by the mere idea of the man glowering down at him. However, MM looked so assured that everything would be alright that Hughie could only nod numbly.

He already had the man’s assurance that his father would have proper closure, Hughie couldn’t very well demand more from the group after unintentionally fooling them for however long he had compound V running through his veins.

MM leaned down to clasp Hughie’s shoulder and giving a reassuring squeeze, before nodding one last time and leaving the room.

Hughie stared at the suspiciously stained floor underneath of him, looking for answers about what he was or even just a purpose for all that he had been through meant. He heard a door open, heavy footstep pausing just briefly in the doorframe before the door creaked shut.

For many people being so close to an inevitable demise would act as a chance to confirm their faith or find a new. Any other person would be considering their fate, trying to make amends with everything that they had done wrong and begging for forgiveness.

Yet all Hughie could think of was memories his mother’s smile as she prompted a dance to a Billy Joel song. His father who had been through agony but still tried to stay approachable for his son, and who tried to maintain a bond with Hughie.

Robin who made him feel alive and like a human for the first time in his life, who cracked his shell wide open and let him experience how fun everything could be. Kimiko who was often so closed off but still learned ASL with him, she figured it long before he did but took the time to help him along so they could talk freely.

Frenchie would always call him petite and smile like he was legitimately happy to see him every time the pair met up. It didn’t matter if it had been days since Hughie saw him or just hours, the man always seemed excited to see him alive.

Mother’s Milk was a mother hen, always pestering Hughie about how much he was eating or sleeping, all with concern hidden firmly under a strong exterior.

Annie, who he now considered his closest and best friend. She would be the angriest towards Butcher when the man figured out how to kill a Lazarus Supe, with any luck they wouldn’t kill each other in the fallout of the reveal.

Finally Billy, who hated Supes as if it was the only thing keeping him alive. Perhaps it was the thing keeping him alive, allowing him to survive things that no mortal could have lived through.

Hughie could remember Billy’s arms around him, pulling him firmly against his body whether it was when they were wrapped together post cotial, or in the early morning when Butcher woke up long before he did and held the younger man tightly.

He could hear Billy whispering in his ear how the man would keep Hughie safe, no matter the cost. Finally, he could see Billy staring down at him with a look of pure despair as he watched Hughie bleed out.

Hughie knew that the despair was driven out of his apparent death and that considering what he was now that he would be lucky beyond belief if Butcher would even look at him without animosity.

His gaze kept firmly onto the floor until dark clothed legs stepped in front of him, familiar boots filled his vision and despite his best-efforts Hughie’s breath still caught in his chest. Hughie watched as dark legs bent and Butcher was kneeling in front of him, but kept his eyes away from the older mans face.

It wasn’t until Butcher let out a breath that could be mistaken for a sigh that Hughie braved a look at the other man. Butchers face was tight, every stress line was exasperated, and his lips were pulled together.

Butcher’s jaw worked for a long few moments before he looked back up, “alright lad just hear me out.”

[salt-warrior]

WHEN EARTH TURNS TO ASHES

Masterlist

Chapter Eleven: Little Miss Independent

"Stop beating yourself up, Crown." Thorne shoved in another bite of waffles, boysenberry jam staining his lips purple as he did so. "It's not your fault that you're the nosiest person on the planet and she hates herself. Get over it."

Kai rolled his eyes. Thorne was a great friend; he was always there for Kai no matter what. But he was the worst at giving sane advice or motivational speeches. "It just wasn't my business."

"You really should have gone into journalism," Thorne said, his words slurred by the food in his mouth. Kai looked down, his heart heavy at the comment.

When Kai had been young, he had wanted to do nothing more than write, and his mother had encouraged that. His father had even been fine with the whole idea, even if it meant that Kai would not go into the family business. All of it had changed when Kai's mother had died. Kai stopped writing—stopped doing most things he loved. It was too painful.

"Yeah," Kai muttered. "I should have."

"Anyways," Thorne waved his fork erratically through the air, nearly spraying Kai with blue jam. "You need to just rip the bandaid off. Show her that you care— more than you should if you ask me–" Kai glared. Thorne sighed. "She really needs someone on her side, even if she thinks she's little-miss-independent."

Kai looked down into his mug, completely empty except for small flakes of chocolate. It wasn't that Kai didn't want to talk to Cinder—quite the opposite, really. He just didn't want to scare her away. He would never be able to forgive himself.

"It's just, there's something dark about her. She's hiding something," Kai remarked.

"Gee, thanks, Captain Obvious. I don't think I ever would have figured that one out on my own." Thorne threw his arms around his head in exasperation, before ticking off fingers. "I mean, she freaks every time someone calls her by her given name, she had a sister that died while they were alone together and no one will say how it happened, and everyone she once knew hated her. I wonder what that girl has to hide."

"Okay, okay!" Kai drummed his fingers anxiously across the square table. "I'm only thinking out loud, no need to go ballistic."

Scraping chunky jam out of a plastic container, Thorne rubbed it lovingly across the last of his waffles. Kai watched, nose scrunched in disgust. Kai hated berries. They were just too sour, too mushy, and left the back of your tongue scratchy. They were gross.

Thorne smothered whipped cream on top of his creation, practically drooling all over it. "Oh, hey, I almost forgot. Did you learn anything from the Principal or that Chris girl?"

"Cress," Kai said quickly, his palms growing sweaty.

"What?" Thorne looked up, confusion scrawled across his fair features.

"Her name is Cress, not Chris." Kai clarified, his cheeks heating up as he babbled. "And your incredible timing stopped me from learning anything really important, so thanks for that."

An impish grin came across Thorne's face, and Kai knew what he was thinking. If ultra-red was a color, then ‘Kaito Crown's face when talking about pretty girls’ could have been the crayon for it. "Yes, she was cute, but not my type, so please don't ask."

"Ah," Thorne slapped a hand dramatically across his heart. "I would never suggest anything of the sort. I know how attached you are to your hot angel." Thorne quirked an eyebrow devilishly.

"Well, what were you going to ask, then?" Kai grumbled, turning his blazing face down. He hadn't much thought about Cress, considering that she had a mysterious past with the girl he was fighting for. He didn't know if Cress had been a positive or negative factor in Cinder's life, which therefore made her hard to look at in any other way than a source of information.

Thorne played around with his fork before answering, "Well, you must have found out something new. Even the tiniest bit of news. I mean, unless you're hiding it from me." Thorne grinned wickedly, and Kai cursed himself mentally. "You're a terrible liar, Crown."

"Okay, fine. I just feel guilty about the whole thing." Kai rubbed his palms against his sleepless eyes. "When I went to talk with Cress, she told me that Selene—Cinder—kept a bunch of secrets." Kai paused, gauging Thorne's face. He looked almost bored, which send a stab of agitation through Kai.

"And?" Thorne pressed on impatiently.

Kai sighed. "And she told me that Cinder lied about what happened to her mom. Even her records don't have the truth; I would know. The nurses told me that Sel– Cinder's mother was put into prison when she was only six, but apparently that's not true."

Thorne motioned impatiently for Kai to continue, but Kai shrugged his shoulders. Thorne huffed. "What actually happened to her mother?"

"Well, I would know if it weren't for your incredible timing." Kai leaned forward in his seat, glaring at Thorne.

"Hey! You told me to call the second the girl woke up. You can't blame me for a job well done," said Thorne defensively.

Kai threw his body back in his seat, feeling exhausted. He was used to getting a solid eight hours of sleep, but that had gone out the window ever since the accident. It was starting to wear on him. "I know, Thorne. And thank you for being there, it meant a lot."

"It better have." Thorne folded his arms across his chest defensively. "That girl of yours is not an angel."

A chuckle escaped Kai, earning a glare from Thorne. "She's a piece of work!"

"She's not easy," Kai admitted, thinking back on his only encounter with a conscious Cinder. She was different than anyone Kai had ever met, one moment rageful and fiery, and in the next small and pitiable. It was hard for Kai to feel anything but compassion for someone who had clearly suffered much. She had fought her whole life, never leaving her enough time to feel peace or love.

There was something so terribly sad about the fact that Cinder couldn't understand why Kai would save her. She was just a girl—not a woman, but a girl—and she needed at least one person on her side. If that one person was Kai, then he would be one damn good cheerleader.

"Why was she so mad at you in the first place? What did you say to her?" Kai asked, recalling the phone call and Cinder's brief acknowledgment to Thorne's visit. "She seems to hate you even more than me."

Thorne waved his hand as if swatting a fly. "Oh, you know. Some women just can't take no for an answer is all."

"Carswell, please tell me you did not flirt with her the second she woke up. She nearly burned to death!" Kai exclaimed, imagining all of the terrible puns and flirtatious jokes Thorne could have made.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a wad." Thorne rolled his eyes. "I was perfectly pleasant as always."

"No wonder she hates me so much," Kai grumbled to himself. "I unleashed you on her, and now she's probably frightened to death! She's only nineteen, Thorne."

"And I'm only twenty-two." Thorne countered.

Kai put his head in his hands, his face flushing with embarrassment and... was that jealousy? How could Kai be jealous that Thorne had tormented a girl with his flirtations, or was it the fact that Thorne was able to flirt with her?

Thorne seemed to read Kai's face like a book. He leaned forward teasingly, his voice sing-songy. "Ooh, is Kaito jealous? But of what, may I wonder?" Thorne rested his cheek in his hand, looking like a gossiping school-girl. Kai had hardly ever wanted to hit him more.

"Not jealous." Kai got out through his teeth. "I just don't want you messing with her. She's been through enough."

"Sure, sure." Thorne tossed the words around teasingly. "Anyway, she's not my type. I've always had a thing for gingers. Those devil's wenches. I was thinking about asking out the other nurse."

Kai ignored this, knowing as well as anything that Thorne preferred blondes. Thorne had only ever been out with one redhead, and that date had not been his best.

"I just don't know what to do," Kai whined, getting back on track. Whenever Thorne was involved in a conversation things always got out of hand.

"Go talk to her. She's had a night to think things through and realize that she was rude and irrational. Appeal to your gentler side; women like that."

Kai wrinkled his nose, deciding that was enough advice for one day. It was true that Cinder had been given plenty of time to think things over and decide how she felt. It was unfair of Kai to shove so much information on her all at once. He would be slower, more patient and gentle this time.

"Thanks, Thorne," Kai said, standing from his seat and sliding his body into his coat.

"Anything for my brotha," Thorne winked, throwing out a fist.

Kai bumped Thorne's fist with his own, twisting it and then spinning his fingers before he walked away and out of the café.

***

"How are you doing today, Cinder?" A nurse with vibrant blue braids practically skipped into the room, carrying a tray with milk, chocolate pudding and something that resembled oatmeal. Cinder tried not to wrinkle her nose. At least this nurse had called her by her preferred name.

The first nurse that Cinder had met had been curvy and dark-haired. She had called Cinder 'Selene' so many times that Cinder had yelled for her to stop. The second nurse hadn't spoken at all to Cinder, except to ask her the rudimentary questions, though that may have been the night-shift speaking.

"Fine." Cinder commented, not in the mood for conversation. There was a TV going on in the background, but Cinder had only glanced at it for a few seconds before growing bored. She would much rather be reading a book. Those at least didn't make her eyes burn and head throb.

The room was plainly furnished, with the bed in the center of the room, the said TV across from the bed, and a small plastic chair beside the bed for visitors.

"I brought your breakfast, and your medicine. Now that you're awake, we want to start you on oral medication and ween you off your IV so you can go home." The nurse placed the tray on the over-bed table. "I'm Iko, by the way."

Cinder ignore the last part. "Wasn't I in a medically induced coma? Why didn't they just keep me awake and give me my medication like a normal person?" Cinder questioned, her words tinged with agitation.

"It's part of the treatment," Iko said, her voice cool but firm. She was not a woman to be messed with. "People heal better while sleeping, and this particular treatment can be tricky."

Iko moved around the bed to shift Cinder into an upright position. She fluffed the pillows, and smoothed down the blankets in an affectionate fashion. Cinder almost felt guilty for being so bitter toward such a kind person.

There was something reassuring about Iko's presence. Cinder relaxed her shoulders, not realizing how tense she had been. She had been putting up a mask for so many years; it was nice to let it down, even for a second.

"Take these," Iko handed Cinder a small cup with an assortment of colored pills. Cinder put them all in her mouth at once, washing them down with a chug of milk that made Cinder almost gag. She had never been fond of dairy products, but she didn't want to be a snob.

The nurse seemed to dance around Cinder's bed, fixing monitors and IV bags, changing the lighting, turning the volume down on the TV. She appeared to know exactly what Cinder needed the most to make her comfortable. It was an odd sensation, to be cared for. Cinder hadn't experienced anything of the sort in too many years.

After seeming to finish with her practicality, Iko settled down in the plastic chair next to Cinder's bed. She clasped her hands daintily in her lap and smiled at Cinder. Only then did Cinder begin to marvel at the ageless quality Iko possessed. Her dark skin was clear and unblemished, her golden eyes bright, yet wise, and her blue braids gave her spunk.

"So," Iko smiled teasingly. "You seem to have a couple of male admirers. I hope that I'm not stepping the line when I ask you which one would happen to be your lover."

That took Cinder aback. Her shoulders tensed, and while normally she would have been agitated, or even mad with such an assumption, all Cinder could manage was a laugh. And laugh she did; big, ugly, loud laughing that shook the bed and caused the heart monitor to race.

Iko stared at Cinder in astonishment, and looked nearly appalled when Cinder began to cough and choke. She stood from her seat, placing a hand over Cinder's chest and muttering about smoke inhalation.

"You thought–" Cinder coughed, unable to control her laughter, "–that I was–" A wheezing began at the back of Cinder's throat. "–with one of those stupid–"

"Hey, hey," Iko was practically yelling at Cinder. "Stop with that, or you'll stop breathing soon enough. Hey!" Iko grabbed Cinder by the shoulders, trying to calm her.

Cinder stopped laughing, though it was gradual. She coughed once more before regaining her composure and staring at her befuddled nurse. "I'm okay." Cinder wiped at her eyes, though no tears had escaped. That was odd.

"I'm sorry," Cinder whispered, her voice hoarse. "It's just, I've never met either of those men before. I only know Kai because he saved me and I'm guessing Thorne is the guy that dared him to do it."

Iko softened and looked as if she were about to say something, but someone else, hidden in the shadows, spoke before she could.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, but I would like to speak with Miss Linh."

[snxwboarder]

//Hey friends. I’m back.

I’ve got an update on the situation I talked about a few days ago. Honestly writing the post I wrote last time really helped me, so I want to do it again. Just to put my thoughts down and allow myself to process.

If you’re going to read (which you’re welcome to!) please make sure you’ve read the trigger warnings in the tags.

But, just a tldr for anyone possibly concerned about my safety: I’m at my parents place now with all 5 of my ferrets and most of my stuff. I feel safe and loved and free. Still scared. Still sad. Still hurt. But very hopeful of the future.

Here I go

Like I said in my last post, I didn’t think I was in an abusive relationship. I was struggling to see it. Even when my friends pointed out the gaslighting and the manipulation, I always had a reason for why he acted the way he did. An explanation for his actions forever engraved into my system because I have always been the one to be there to save him. To excuse him. To forgive him.

It changed last night.

Abusive relationship.

Not something I thought I was in.

Until, for the first time since my dad pushed me out of the room so he could hit my mom when I was 11 years old, my partner became physical.

My boyfriend, of 7 years, who I reassured my friends, not even half an hour earlier, would never lay a hand on me.

Got physical.

I worked a full day yesterday, left the house before he got up. I fed the ferrets before I left, giving my senior ferret her twice daily lifetime medication 2 hours earlier than I normally do because I worked the morning shift - and I knew he wouldn’t wake up to do it.

We still hadn’t talked. Not much. How many days does that make it that he hasn’t spoken to me... 5? I lost count.

Our conversations consisted of me saying “have a good day at work” and his grunt in reply. A short “I’m going to my grandma’s house” because I needed to get out. 

It wasn’t talking. Not really.

There was a time I think he wanted to talk. He came into the bedroom on the 4th night of us sleeping apart. He sat down, didn’t say much. I know he was trying to get me to ask what was wrong, if he was okay, what I could to do help him. But I didn’t say anything.

Which was.... hard.

Really hard.

I’ve spent 7 years being trained, like a collared bitch that comes to it’s masters call that when he’s upset, I find the solution. When we fight, I ask for forgiveness. When we can’t decide, I compromise. 

7 years of training. 

This time I didn’t do it though. No matter how tight he pulled the collar around my neck, the mumbled phrases he said to lure me in:

“I’m so tired...”

That’s what he said. He’s tired. 

Him.

He didn’t ask how I was, he didn’t ask what I was thinking. He just sat there. Staring down into his lap. Breathing. Waiting for me to beg for forgiveness for a fight he started, for words he said, for a relationship he molded. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

That’s the last real thing he had said to me and it still rings back and forth in my head. 

4 days he left me with that.

20 minutes, give or take, that’s how long he sat there waiting. But I didn’t say anything. If he wanted to talk about the fight, I was ready to talk, but I knew it would end in a breakup right there and then at 1am. Not the ideal time. But... ideal times don’t really exist.

He left though. Wordlessly. Closing the door behind him just like the walls he always put up so that I could work to tear them down and make it right. 

The next morning I went to work.

And while I stared into our empty store, my new coworkers that I’ve only known for 2 days standing around me. I made the choice that it was over. I was done sitting here with an infected bandage waiting for it to heal itself. I wanted to rip it off. Let the air sting against the cut he had caused so it could finally get a chance to breathe. To heal.

We were done.

I came home from work with determination in my steps and the most stomach turning anxiety in my gut. 

We were done.

I entered the house. Silence. I go to his office. He’s playing fortnite. 

He doesn’t notice me at first because he’s talking to his friends. His mood is different. He’s happy, I know it. I move towards him and he recognizes that I’m there. 

“How was work?”

It was like nothing was wrong. 

I’m still confused about that part but I didn’t focus on it for too long. “Can we talk when you’re done your game?” I said. 

He agreed. I left the room to go downstairs.

I didn’t take my work uniform off thank god I didn’t take my work uniform off. My car keys were in my pocket because I didn’t stop to put them down. The ferret travel cage was in the car, not because I had it there as a “just in case” but simply because, like the keys, I had forgotten to put it away when I brought them inside after a vet appointment last week. 

I text my friends to let them know that it’s happening. I had talked to my mom on the phone on the drive home from work to give her a heads up that tomorrow they’ll probably need to get me. 

Tomorrow. I can’t believe I thought he’d let me stay the night.

He called my name when he was done the game. We never use each other’s names. Always pet names when we’re alone. So it was odd.

I went upstairs to his office and stood in the doorway.

He asked if I wanted to take a seat.

I said I did not.

The conversation that follows is not something I’m ready to fully bring myself back to, not yet, maybe not ever. I was clear in my intentions, firm with when I was leaving, and as factual as I could be. I explained what I felt he deserved to know, and allowed him to take the silences he needed to take.

A broken man sobbed in front of me, begging me to stay. Saying, for the millionth time, that he could change if I needed him to despite how I’d never seen the evidence of it. Said we could stop having sex for good. Said I was all that he had and without me he was completely alone. Said I couldn’t leave because if I did he would be by himself in a house with no one.

And then he remembered the ferrets.

“Are you taking the girls?” He asked me, breaking again in front of me.

I gave him a very clear, very hard “yes.” 

Because I was.

I was leaving him and I was taking my ferrets with me.

More so than the conversation we just had, the following 30 minutes of my life are the worst 30 minutes I’ve ever experienced. I highly doubt I’ll ever be able to remember those 30 minutes and feel at peace.

It was when the abuse turned from emotional to physical. As he fought me for my ferrets. My girls. 

My hands still hurt from where I grabbed their cage and my voice is still sore from yelling that he needed to let go.

I had my car keys in my pocket because of luck.

I had the kennel in my car because of forgetfulness. 

I grabbed all 5 of them in my arms and I ran.

I ran.

I’ve never moved so quickly with my heartbeat hammering in my ears and my chest so tight with fear and anxiety, moving completely on gut instinct above literally anything else. 

I got them into the kennel and I locked the car.

He could have the house. He could have the furniture. He could have the damage deposit and the subscriptions and the money that he owes me and my virginity that he stole and my broken beating fucking heart I don’t give a fucking shit about any of that useless garbage but he is not taking my girls. I brought them into this house because I wanted one fucking thing to keep me sane and moving and loved and I wasn’t leaving unless they were in the back of my car.

He lost his chance to say goodbye when he grabbed me.

He lost his chance to hold them one more time when he threatened to leave with them.

He lost his chance to a normal breakup when he stood by the door with rage in his eyes telling me that even though my parents were on their way to save me from the hell he trapped me in, he would not let them into his home to free me from the hold that he had so easily trapped me in.

But I stayed firm.

The keys were in my pocket.

I had my girls. 

He moved towards me and I was scared but he grabbed his car keys and his wallet and stormed out of the house.

“You’re a selfish bitch. Fuck you.”

That’s the last thing he said.

And I sobbed in the doorway of my front door until my throat was raw and I couldn’t breathe. I sobbed because of how long I had been trapped. Because of the lies he told me. Because of how many times he said he’d change and never did. Because of all of the signs I missed. Because of all of the excuses I gave. Because of all the fighting and the compromising and the unhappiness. I sobbed because I was so relieved but so fucking terrified about everything that this changes and everything that this puts to an end. I just sobbed.

I don’t know when my step dad showed up but I assume he found me in the doorway shaking with my knees to my chest and my heart broken on the floor.

He held me for longer than he ever has. I don’t know what I said to him. I think I told him about the ferrets but I probably just kept mumbling “they’re in the car they’re in the car the girls are in the car” hoping he’d understand. I think he did. I don’t know.

My mom and brother were there in her van moments later and we packed.

Everything we could fit between 3 cars we packed. We started with the important stuff: my computer, the ferret cage, my sewing machine. We sacrificed the stuff that I didn’t have room for: my cosplay gear, half of my clothes, my fish tank (which breaks my fucking heart all over again please just take care of my fish I told them I was so sorry when we left but I just couldn’t take them). 

It’s hard.

To watch the home you had just finished setting up be torn apart so quickly because you aren’t sure when he’s coming back to demand that you stay.

It’s hard.

But we did it.

My mom, my brother, my step dad, and me. We tore the home apart and I got my stuff. 

I sobbed the whole drive away from that house. My brother drove with me, which I will never stop being thankful for. I sobbed because I was scared, still am, that my ex was going to kill himself. I was worried that that’s why he left. My eyes were on the highway and my heart was being left in broken pieces along the side of the road with each kilometre we drove. 

And then I stopped crying.

About half of the way to my parent’s house.

Just.... stopped crying.

My brother and I talked about anime, one of our shared interests. He just finished watching SK8 with his wife and we were talking about our favourite parts, agreeing that Langa was best boy, making jokes about the silly bits and discussing our favourite scenes. Just talked with my brother about anime.

So I’m here now. In almost the same position I was in when I made a post like this last week, rethinking all of the reasons I had to leave. I’m at the kitchen table. I have a cup of tea that’s 3/4 full and completely cold because this post distracted me. I’ve been crying. A lot. My eyes are constantly puffy and red.

But about 30 minutes ago I went to walmart. 

Stupid thing to give you hope, I suppose, a trip to walmart. I needed to get a sheet for my new bed though and I didn’t want to put it off. 

A solo trip to walmart.

The same walmart that, exactly 1 week ago almost on the hour, I had been in with my ex (”ex” still feels odd to say). We had stopped by to get groceries after a couples counselling session. He was in a bad mood. We argued. In the car I apologized and he did not. 1 week ago I hadn’t realized everything wrong with us. 1 week ago I cried by the george t-shirts because he left me there in a rage after I said we needed to cross the store to get duct tape. 1 week ago I went to the mcdonalds in that walmart to get us burgers and the boy at the till was cute. 1 week ago I slipped into a 15 second daydream where I was with someone I found attractive. 1 week ago I felt guilty for the thought. 1 week ago I was just as brave as I was yesterday, but I didn’t know it yet.

I’m with my mom. I’m with my step dad. I’m with my ferrets.

I’m safe. I’m home. 

When I sat at the red light on the way home from walmart, I felt the relief my mom had told me about 5 days ago. Not the wave that she described, nothing that “washed over me” like she had told me it did when she left my dad; but just a spark. A tiny little glimmer of “this is what’s right”, “this is what’s good”, “this is what’s better”. 

My throat is still sore. My hands are still numb. And my heart still aches. But those pains go away eventually.

He goes away eventually.

[nerdzzone]

Light After Dark: Chapter One

Summary: Brooke Harris was trying her best to be grateful. As the world tackled the COVID-19 pandemic, she was healthy and safe and so was the rest of her family, but her dreams had very quickly been crushed by the economic fallout. Trapped on the quaint island of Jersey with nothing, but free time to wallow in her mistakes, Brooke’s mental health was taking a hit, but when she collides with a handsome stranger she starts to realize that the future might not be so bleak and there might still be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x OFC

______________

April. 12. 2020

Stress.

Everyone was feeling it these days. Pandemics will do that to people. Especially when the world that everyone knew and loved had crumbled into an entirely different, almost unrecognizable version of itself.

Restaurants were closed. All stores that were deemed non-essential were shuttered. The streets were empty.

It was an odd kind of bittersweet. It was heartbreaking to see all the bustling cities turn into ghost towns, but it was good because it meant that people were listening. People were caring about their vulnerable friends and neighbours, their elderly grandparents, the health care workers who fought tirelessly to save those who needed their help. 

It was a necessary evil, but nevertheless it was odd to see and the uncertainty of how the future would unfold was anxiety inducing.

At first, I wanted as much news as possible. Staying informed of everything happening in every affected country gave me some comfort. It was as if it somehow gave me more control, but I quickly realized that wasn't the case. It gave me no clearer indication of how or when things would end or when some kind of normality would return. It left me overwhelmed and drowning in hypothetical worse case scenarios when really the truth was that no one had any idea. Even the experts couldn't say what would happen next. It was all just guess work and while some of it was educated, most of the articles were not and it was turning me into a nervous wreck.

So I decided to disconnect. I decided to trust that I would be informed when the number of cases dropped and the lockdown was lifted and trust that the process would not be sped up by me consuming as many statistics and projections as I could find.

Turning off was hard though. I wasn't one of the lucky few who could simply do their job from home, I had nothing to fill my days. I had also chosen to isolate with my parents in the lovely house they'd bought a few years earlier on the beautiful island of Jersey. In some ways this was a lucky choice as the risk was far lower than in London where I was living, but it was quaint and the lack of hustle and bustle made me feel even more restless.

Which was how I found myself out exploring the trails. 

My mother had kicked me out of the house when she caught me doing one of my niece’s art projects for her out of boredom. My niece hadn't wanted to do it anyway, so I didn't see the harm, but my mother had reminded me that she was seven and didn't get to just opt out of schoolwork if she wasn't in the mood. She then cited some article she'd found about how the government were still encouraging people who were feeling cooped up to go outside to exercise once a day and tossed me my shoes and bag before pushing me to the door.

I'd wandered sulkily at first, frustrated that at thirty I was in a situation that had my mother tossing me outside the way she did when we were kids and our endless energy was getting on her nerves. But I soon realized she was right. It was a beautiful island and I should appreciate the opportunity to explore it. So I found a map, picked a destination and then hiked for almost an hour until I'd reached the viewing point I was looking for.

I had to admit it was a beautiful view as I looked out over the ocean, sitting on the little bench I'd found, but the peace it brought was short-lived. I started wondering if I really should have sat down at all considering I had no idea who had been there before me. My legs were tired so I had figured it was worth the risk as long as I didn't touch anything, but was it really?

Sighing into the mask that covered my face, it struck me again how strange the world currently was. Two months ago, I wouldn't have thought twice about sitting on a public bench or worried what would happen if another group joined me in the little clearing I'd found, but now every stranger was a potential threat.

I quickly grew frustrated with my negative thoughts. The walk was supposed to get me out of my head and I was annoyed that I couldn't shake it, couldn't think of anything else except the stupid pandemic for even just a few minutes. The mask on my face suddenly felt suffocating and I just wanted to get home so I could rip it off.

Rising from the bench, I checked the time on my phone before tossing it back into my bag with a sigh and heading off down the trails. I was in a world of my own as I walked. Day dreams about how things would be now if none of this had ever happened filled my head and then, when the inescapable reality broke through my thoughts, I pondered what kind of new cocktail I could try when I got home to ease the pang of loss that seemed to constantly fill my stomach.

I was in the midst of drooling over a prosecco and elder flower concoction that I'd recently read a recipe for when suddenly it felt like I was hit by a truck.

I landed on the ground, flat on my back, fighting to breathe as the wind was knocked right out of me. My chest was tight and my vision was blurry as I felt a familiar panic rising in my chest. Did I bring my inhaler? Where was my bag? What had even happened?

As the thoughts raced through my mind, I could vaguely hear the sound of someone next to me.

"Are you alright?" They asked, their tone conveying a similar panic to the one I was feeling. "Shit, I'm so sorry. Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

I nodded as the spasm in my chest subsided, but my weak lungs seemed to struggle to recover from the shock. I coughed into my mask as I forced myself to sit up, looking frantically for my bag and spotted it a few feet off to the side. My breath was coming out in short wheezes as I struggled to move closer to it, but the man was much faster. He thrust it into my arms, watching me like a worried puppy as I quickly dug through it.

Relief flooded through me as my hand wrapped around my inhaler and I quickly pulled down my mask as I pressed it against my lips. It took a few moments, but I felt myself calm down as the tightness began to subside and my body relaxed. It wasn't until I'd taken a few deep breaths that the man spoke again.

"Are you alright?" He repeated, clearly realizing I was in a much better position to actually give a response. "I'm so sorry."

I nodded as I finally took a good look at who I was talking to and suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe again for an entirely different reason. He had a baseball hat pulled low on his head, probably in an attempt to hide his identity, but it didn't work as I realized I was face to face with Superman himself, Henry Cavill.

"Y-yeah, I'm, uh, I'm fine, thanks," I sputtered out. "What happened?"

Henry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he squatted next to where I was sitting on the dusty trail.

"I was running and I crashed into you," He admitted. "I wasn't paying attention and didn't see you around the corner."

"Oh," I nodded, still trying to come to terms with the situation. "I wasn't paying attention either to be fair. It's not your fault."

He pulled a face that made it clear that he didn't necessarily agree with that statement, but he didn't argue.

"Are you really alright?" He asked again, guilt written all over his face. "You fell really hard and then you weren't breathing. I thought I'd killed you."

I snorted a laugh, quickly covering my face as it turned into a cough.

"I'm okay," I insisted, my voice raspy. "And for the record I don't have that stupid virus either. I have asthma. I think I got winded when I fell and it triggered an attack."

"Shit," Henry rubbed his face nervously. "So I almost did kill you."

"Nah," I smiled, appreciating how genuinely bad he felt about the situation. "You can't be blamed for my broken lungs."

He chuckled and flashed me a smile before standing and holding out a hand for me. I took it happily, but once he'd pulled me to my feet another issue became apparent. As soon as I put weight on my left foot, I crumbled into Henry's arms, gasping in pain.

"Whoa, I got you," He soothed as he caught me. "What hurts?"

"My ankle," I groaned, shifting all my weight to my right foot and off of him.

Henry's brow furrowed in thought before his eyes widened like a little light bulb had gone off in his brain.

"There's a park nearby," He informed me. "Can I take you there and look it?"

I raised an eyebrow as I hopped slightly to keep my balance.

"I don't remember the Superman movie where Clark Kent went to medical school."

There was a brief flash of surprise on his face when he realized I knew who he was, but it disappeared almost instantly as he chuckled and shot me a smirk.

"I can't say that he did," He confirmed. "But as someone who had to stay in pretty decent shape for that role, I'm more familiar than I care to admit with sports injuries."

"I don't think being bowled over by a man with muscles bigger than my head counts as a sport," I matched his smirk. "But I would appreciate your opinion if you don't mind looking at it. It hurts quite badly and I'm clueless with this stuff."

"Of course," Henry nodded. "Ready?"

Before I could even answer, Henry had one arm tucked under the back of my knees and was holding me bridal style in his arms. I gasped quietly at suddenly being lifted off the ground, but my surprise quickly turned into awe at the ease with which he had picked me up and how he was now walking quickly down the trail as if I weighed nothing at all. It had been far too long since I'd been in a position this intimate with a man and my mouth suddenly felt dry as his biceps flexed under my back and I couldn't help, but imagine what they would look like if we were in other intimate positions.

Stopping those thoughts as fast as they appeared, I pulled my mask up to hide my reddening cheeks.

"We are definitely not six feet apart..."

My mumbled words were muffled even more by the mask covering my mouth, but the shake of Henry's shoulders as he chuckled and the wink that he shot me made it obvious that he'd heard me loud and clear.

****

"Alright, well, it's pretty swollen, but I don't think it's broken," Henry informed me as he sat on the bench of the picnic table he'd placed me on. He'd spent a few minutes wiggling my foot around, watching my response before announcing his opinion. "I think it's probably just twisted or sprained."

"There goes my dancing career." I sighed dramatically in an attempt to make it clear I was joking, but the slight drop of Henry's jaw and the guilt that riddled his face meant I'd missed the mark. "Kidding! I'm kidding. My lack of coordination killed that dream when I was a child. I'm a baker. Or rather, I was a baker."

Henry quirked an eyebrow at my change of phrasing.

"Decided on a career change?"

I looked down, wishing I hadn't brought it up in the first place. I was starting to accept the way things were, but it wasn't something I was eager to discuss just yet.

"I didn't get a chance to decide really," I started to explain, my voice suddenly coming out much meeker than it had before. "The pandemic kinda made the choice for me."

"Oh," Henry frowned. "Well, it can't go on forever. I'm sure they'll start letting places reopen by the summer."

"Not my place," I smiled half-heartedly in an attempt to hide some of the self-pity I was wallowing in. "I put all my eggs in one basket...A basket which the pandemic then threw off a cliff."

Henry chuckled at my explanation, but there was sympathy on his face.

"Is there no chance you could pick up where you left off?"

I sighed, but shook my head.

"I opened my own bakery in January," I admitted. "I barely had it up and running when the pandemic hit and with my asthma, I'm pretty vulnerable so I closed up shop as soon as things started heading south. I sunk all my savings into it though so I don't have enough to keep it a float. I was past the point of no return after only a few weeks of being shut."

Henry was quiet for a moment and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me as I realized that I'd massively overshared my problems with a stranger who was simply trying to make polite conversation. I opened my mouth to spout out some apologies when Henry cut me off.

"I'm very sorry to hear that."

His eyes met mine as he spoke and even though it was a simple sentence, it put me at ease. His eyes were warm and comforting and it was clear there was sincerity to his words. Not wanting to burden him too much though, I simply shrugged.

"It could be worse," I pointed out. "I'm healthy, my family are all healthy. People have lost a lot more to this virus than I have."

"Just because people have lost more, it doesn't make you loss insignificant."

I had heard his words before and I appreciated the sentiment, but it still felt hard to grieve for a lost business when an incomprehensible number of people were grieving for lost loved ones. 

"You sound like my therapist," I teased, feeling a strange warmth in my stomach when a smile slid onto his face. He really was very handsome. It was no wonder why women and men all around the world would kill to get this close to him. "Anyway, I should probably call my dad and see if he can pick me up. I don't think I'll be able to walk home."

Henry nodded and passed me my bag from where it was placed on the ground. He waited patiently as I made the call, arranging for my dad to meet me on the road I could see running past the park just up a small hill. Once it was all set up, I turned back to Henry.

"Thanks so much for all your help," I smiled. "I think I'll be okay for now though, you don't need to waste any more of your day."

"It's not a waste," Henry argued. "Besides, I still maintain this whole mess was my fault so it's the least I can do to help you up that hill when your dad arrives."

"You really don't need to," I insisted. "I can hop or crawl or something."

A laugh slipped from Henry's mouth as he shook his head.

"As entertaining as I'm sure that would be to watch, it wouldn't be very decent of me to let you struggle like that," He held firm, clearly not one to back down easily. "How about as a trade off for my assistance, you can give me your number?"

I snorted a laugh as I looked at him in disbelief.

"You want my number? Is that a joke?"

"No!" He grinned from ear to ear as he fished his phone out of the pocket of his shorts. "It's the least you can do after I gave you my expert medical advice."

"Wow, Mr. Cavill. Very smooth," I smiled, my cheeks heating up as I rattled off my number. He entered it in carefully before looking up at me again.

"Now, I just need a name to go with it."

"Oh! How rude of me." My blushed deepened when I realized I hadn't even introduced myself. "I'm Brooke."

"Brooke," Henry repeated as he typed it into his phone. "It's nice to meet you, Brooke."

"You too," I agreed before deciding it was time to to turn the attention back to him. "So, what brings international superstar, Henry Cavil, to the little island of Jersey?"

"It's my home," He informed me, a fond smile on his face. "I grew up here so when production got shut down due to the pandemic, I decided to come here to isolate with my family."

"What an amazing place to grow up," I said, my words dripping with envy. "You must have had the run of the island!"

"We did," Henry nodded with a chuckle. "I have four brothers so my mother always knew we'd keep each other safe and let us do what we pleased for the most part."

"Four brothers?" My jaw dropped slightly at the thought. "I have one sister and that was more than enough siblings for me."

"It was a lot," Henry agreed. "But it was nice. I love having a big family and we all went to boarding school so there wasn't five of us in the house together all the time."

"That makes it easier," I nodded. "Are you close?"

"Absolutely! I'm closest with my younger brother because we're only two years apart, but we're all quite good friends. We try to get everyone together at least once a year if our schedules permit it."

He grinned as he spoke and it was clear that he loved his family very much. I couldn't help, but return his smile.

"That's really nice."

"Are you close with your sister?"

"I am," I nodded. "It's part of the reason I'm here, I guess. My parents moved here a few years back and she decided to bring my niece here to isolate so they could help look after her. My brother-in-law is a paramedic so he knew things were getting bad long before the lockdown started and he felt it would be safer for her not to be in the house with him in case he gets exposed. My sister is working from home though so home-schooling Molly by herself while trying to do her own work would be tough. Since Jersey is obviously safer for me too with my asthma, I decided to tag along when they came over from London way back at the beginning of March so I can help my sister with Molly too."

I felt like I was rambling and oversharing again, but Henry's eyes were on me the entire time and he never once seemed disinterested. It was refreshing to meet someone who was actually interested in having a proper conversation.

"That sounds like a very sensible choice," He nodded when I was finished my explanation. "It must be hard for your niece to be separated from her dad so I'm sure she appreciates having you around. A couple of my brothers are in the military and I know when they've been deployed, the kids really struggle."

"She's doing better than I expected, but there's days when we can tell she's having a hard time," I admitted. "Are you just isolating with your parents?"

"No, no, we're doing a similar thing to you," Henry smiled. "One of my brothers was over visiting at the beginning of March during a school break so when there was talk of schools closing, they decided to just stay over here. So it's my parents and I, plus my brother, his wife and their three kids. Oh, and my big fluffy dog."

My whole face lit up at the mention of a dog before I could even control myself.

"You have a dog?!" I practically squealed, making Henry's shoulder shake as he chuckled. "Do you have pictures?"

"Of course!"

Henry picked up his phone from where he'd placed it on the table and quickly opened his camera roll. From where I was sitting, perched on the table above him, I could see dozens of pictures pop up on the screen, most of them of a big fluffy, black and white dog. He scrolled for a moment before tapping on one and turning the phone towards me.

"Awwwe," I cooed, looking at the big goofy grin on the dog's face. "What's his name?"

"Kal."

I stared at him for a moment, confusion written all over my face.

"You named your dog Cow?"

Henry tossed his head back laughing, shaking it slowly.

"No, not cow! Kal!" He emphasized the 'L' as he clarified. "As in Kal-El."

"Ooh, I get it," I giggled, realizing my mistake. "Wow, you're a nerd."

"I am," Henry chuckled, not fazed by my jab. "If you think naming my dog after Superman is bad, wait until you hear how I've been spending all this free time."

I wrinkled my nose in mock disgust.

"Let me guess...some video game like...World of Warcraft?"

Laughter once again erupted from Henry, making me laugh at the sight.

"No, surprisingly not," He shook his head. "Even though I did almost miss the call for Superman because I actually was playing World of Warcraft..."

"Oh my god, really?" I raised an eyebrow, finding it hard to believe someone who looked like him was into something that many people consider so uncool. He nodded in confirmation before I got us back the point. "I need to hear that story too, but what have you been doing with your free time then if not gaming? Lifting cars to keep those muscles in perfect condition?"

Now it was Henry's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Cars?" He questioned, but I simply shrugged in response. "No, not that. Well, I mean, I do spend a good portion of my day keeping fit, hence this fateful run, but what I was referring to is this..."

Henry flipped to a picture on his phone and showed me. I wasn't entirely sure what I was looking at so I took a guess.

"Painting figurines?"

"Pretty much," He nodded. "It's all tied in to gaming. They have a whole world and lore created about it."

I giggled and shook my head in mock disbelief.

"If only your fan-girls could see you now..."

"Oh, they love it," He smirked. "I posted the picture on my Instagram and apparently they find my nerdy side rather endearing."

"They're just blinded by your handsome face," I teased. "And your gentlemanly manners."

"Most likely," Henry agreed with a grin that filled me a warmth. "Speaking of, I think your dad has arrived."

I looked over my shoulder towards the road and spotted a man waving his arms.

"Yep," I nodded, shifting over to the edge of the picnic table. "Now, how are we going to do this? Can I hold your-"

Before I could finish my sentence, Henry had his arm tucked under my knees and lifted me up bridal style once again.

"Show off," I teased, reaching back to grab my bag from the table just before Henry started the walk up the hill. "I think you're just trying to impress me with your strength."

Henry glanced down at me with a smirk on his face.

"Is it working?"

It was, but I shook my head.

"No, not at all," I lied. "If the tables were turned, I could carry you just as easily."

I was jostled slightly as Henry laughed at that bold statement.

"You're much stronger than you look then," He informed me as we got to the top. “Hold on to me now."

I listened to his instruction, keeping one arm draped around his shoulders as he lowered me to the ground, letting me lean my weight on him and off my left foot.

"Henry, what a pleasant surprise!" My dad greeted us, making me raise an eyebrow in suspicion of his rather familiar greeting of my new friend. "What are you doing here?"

"Unfortunately, I'm to blame for your daughter's injuries, Mr. Harris," Henry explained looking rather sheepish once again. "We collided on the path."

"It wasn't his fault," I insisted. "Neither of us were paying attention and he was kind enough to check me out after."

My dad glanced between the two of us, curiosity written all over his face.

"Check you out?"

My cheeks heated up as I realized how he'd chosen to interpret those words and I rolled my eyes.

"Check my ankle out," I clarified. "He says it's probably just sprained, but I can't put much weight on it."

"Well thank goodness Dr. Cavill was here to assist you," My dad teased, his smirk making me suddenly very aware that Henry still had his arm around my waist. "Your mother is worried sick though so we should probably get you home."

I nodded and hobbled towards the car with Henry's support. Once I was settled safely in my seat, I looked up at him.

"Thanks, Henry," I smiled. "I really appreciate your help."

"Anytime," He nodded. "Let me know when your ankle feels better, yeah?"

"Of course."

Before I could say anything else, my dad leaned over from the driver's seat.

"Can we drop you anywhere, Henry?"

"Oh, no, that's okay, thanks," Henry waved him off. "I should probably finish my run."

"Is that the safest plan?" I questioned, a smirk on my face. "Maybe you should get yourself a bell first so you don't mow down any more unsuspecting women..."

Henry fought back a smile as he feigned indignation.

"You never told me that your daughter was a comedian, Mr. Harris." He said to my dad as I giggled away at my own joke. 

"Yes, well, we try not to encourage her too much," My dad rolled his eyes. "Don't need her getting too big headed now, do we?"

I protested his comment as Henry laughed before we said a quick goodbye and he jogged off down the hill.

We drove in silence for a few moments before my dad looked over at me.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I think so," I assured him. "I fell pretty hard and obviously banged up my ankle, but it's definitely not broken so it'll heal."

"I'm glad to hear that," He nodded. Another silence settled between us before he spoke again. "Your mom's worried about you. She said you seemed down this morning and that you’re getting antsy."

I looked down at my hands, not wanting to delve into this conversation.

"Everyone's getting antsy," I shrugged, deciding I needed to quickly change the subject. "Anyway, why didn't you tell me that you knew Henry Cavill?"

"I don't really know him, but his parents live just down the street from us so I've met him once or twice," He explained. "I didn't know you were such a fan."

"Well, I'm not really," I admitted. "I'm not not a fan, but I don't know much of his work. He is rather...You know, he's got a nice..."

I trailed off realizing who I was talking to, but my dad simply smirked.

"A nice face?" He suggested. "Nice abs? Nice arms? Which I'm sure you got a great feel of since you definitely weren't six feet apart, young lady."

My cheeks were red as I swatted his arm.

"I know we weren't," I muttered, feeling like a teenager who'd just been caught sneaking out with a boy. "But I was injured and I couldn't walk."

"Well, I hope you're good at hopping because I won't be able to carry you into the house like that with my old back," He informed me. "I'm no Superman."

I rolled my eyes and mumbled a quick 'shut up' as I looked out the window, but there was a smile on my face that I couldn't shake and for the first time since this whole pandemic fiasco began, I felt a little flicker of hope.

[ninjakitty15]

Chapter 22: Deader is Better (Loki x OFC Pairing)

It was exactly one day before the greatest holiday of all time, and not just because I was the most powerful I'd ever be that year. The streets were packed with people, every parking lot was booked solid, every parking space even, residents were even renting out some of their spaces for pocket money. Loki and I helped out Zari with her little store in exchange for letting us crash at her place, Loki was both surprised and delighted by how accepting people were of him even after asking if he was who he was. I explained to him that while the country as a whole has a longass way before it can be completely progressive and welcoming, Salem, being one of the first historical places here that destroyed itself in fear and intolerance, was probably the first to turn that around. It went from burning, hanging, crushing, and torturing people that were considered different and therefore dangerous to welcoming the different and weird as one of their own. No one even cared he took over New York, what they saw was an alien army attacking the city and a god that brought a bunch of heroes together to stop them.

"If Asgard were still around, I wish it had a city like this, celebrating magic and welcoming the weird as you'd say," mused Loki.

"Isn't there a realm entirely like that? Where the Light Elves live?"

"Look at you, trying to learn my culture," he teased. "It was where my mother learned magic and passed it onto me, yes. But we didn't go there often enough for me to call it another home. Most of the time, if we went anywhere it was to beat the natives into submission thanks entirely to Thor."

"For all the advancements your people had on us, the technology, the magic, the fuckton more years in a lifespan, you're not that far off in some idealogies from us. Rarely does peaceful methods end a dispute between peoples. Oh sure, there's been tons of times we tried that, it rarely works in our favor though. Peaceful rallies or marches are usually ended with police brutality they claim is the right way even when they're throwing tear gas grenades at unarmed civilians, tazing random protesters they later claim as dangerous, or just blasting them with high pressured firemen hoses. It always ends badly, with injuries, false claims, and injustice. I'd seriously love to meet Odin just to tell him he ain't special."

Loki smiled at this and kissing the top of my head. "I shouldn't be proud of you despising him like I did, but I am anyway. I am glad you met my mother in some form though, I had a feeling she'd like you."

"She told me to trust you and that in doing so, you'd stay with me as no one else besides Thor if even that, has trusted you since you came here indefinitely. A lonely existence that is, everyone keeping you at arms length. I can understand that, outside of Salem, skin color alone is an excuse not to trust someone, people see someone that looks like they're past their expiration date like me and they go running. Hell, even hair color or skin ink can keep you from getting jobs here, we're still an extremely regressive country. Not worth saving anytime soon."

"Then why bother?"

"Because unfortunately I'm one of the idiots inhabiting it with no way to some place better."

"I asked Thor why he fought so hard to protect this speck of a planet once, don't recall him giving me a good answer but yours shall suffice, if nothing else, because you're part of it."

"Whoa, hold your eight legged horses, you really don't need to do that...at all. Just find a way out of here if we can't at least save this city, the Avengers can handle this planet and if they can't...well at least they tried right? We don't need to get involved when neither of us signed any kind of hero contract like they did."

"You sure?"

"I'm not just sure...I'm HIV positive."

"You'd have to be alive to contract that disease and I'm not quite sure it would transmit to something already dead."

I opened my mouth to retaliate but something else stayed my tongue for a moment, something felt wrong, unnatural even. "Listen...do you smell that?" I asked curiously. Loki didn't get a chance to answer as a great surge of necro-power struck me full force and I was sent flying back several feet away, breaking several trees of the park we were enjoying till then along the way before my back slammed against a particularly thick one and I stopped flying. A dull pain exploded from my chest mere inches from where the stone was protecting my important bits and cool black blood lightly dripped from my lips. I looked down at where the pain came from and blinked in surprise.

"Oh look I've been impaled," I mused before breaking off the branch sticking out of my body and stepped away from the tree behind me. I looked for the source of the power surge and glared as I spotted the culprit walking toward us.

"Are you hurt?" asked Loki warily.

"Just a flesh wound," I assured him, gathering power from behind into my arms and fists. "You might wanna sit this one out though."

"No no, let him try," the attacker taunted as he got closer to us.

"I knew I smelled something rotten in the wind," I muttered. "What is it this time? First the heart, now the brain rotting away, would make sense if it was you that sold us all out."

The man before us glowered at me then flashed rotting, blackened teeth, while for the most part he looked alive, he was essentially rotting from the inside out. "You aren't the only one with a stone organ, my head will remain just as much as your heart does till I rip that out of you."

I arched an eyebrow. "Lemme guess, one of your Hydra buddies was a brain surgeon or so he claims. They all think themselves doctors of something that organization, not one medical degree posted when I was with them though, kinda makes you wonder."

"They don't need doctors for corpses," he snapped.

"You sure you're not braindead? Cuz I'm sure coroners and morticians both require a medical degree to be licensed with the job."

"Have a few run-ins with those folks have you?" he sneered. "You know the best part about you was at the very least being a warm body at the end of the day, now you don't even have that."

I snorted at his attempt to insult me. "Oh hun, the best part of you ran down your mother's legs. You gonna bark all day, you little bitch, or are you gonna bite?"

He held his hands to his head and another ball of smoke and lightning came hurtling at us but this time it was aiming for Loki at breathtaking speed, he was essentially pulling an Azula on me thinking I'd either let Loki get hit or take it myself but I saw his Azula and raised him a Dumbledore, telling my guiding spirits to yank him away from the path of the ball as I wouldn't be fast enough to help myself. I waved my hand toward Loki and he was suddenly swept aside and away from the direct battle ahead. Loki scrambled to his feet, a dagger in each hand and returning to his battle armor swiftly, glancing at me in shock. I mouthed a sorry to him before focusing all my attention to the rotten necromancer in front of me.

"Targeting what's mine isn't your best move when you really don't need to give me more motives to decapitate you than you already have," I warned.

"I know he's your weakness though. I want to see just how weak he really makes you," he sneered. "If what doesn't kill you makes you strong, what about when you're already dead."

"You're well on your way to finding that out yourself, hun. I can help answer that for you though." I thrust out a hand and black lightning flew from my fingertips. My rival managed to shield some of it with his own magic but as he wasn't a demi god the impact of that much power still sent him flying back. I didn't wait for him to get up though as I charged at him with a ball of power around each fist.

He rolled away right before I could punch in his head and destroy the stone inside it and got to his feet as I stood up, charging at me as I straightened up so we were suddenly toe to toe trying to kill each other. For a solid few minutes it was just dodging and exchanging blows and balls of energy before he decided to get sneaky and tried to slash me with his ceremonial dagger hidden in his boot. I dodged it just enough to not actually cut me but it did do some damage to my hoodie which had me glaring at him as I loved my hoodies. From there, it was throwing either each other, balls of power, or punches at each other with him occasionally trying to throw power at Loki who quickly learned to keep an eye on his attacks as much as I was without interfering, this wasn't his fight anymore. The ground around us was starting to look barren and dead from the effects of our powers used against one another, the grass brittle and brown. We both paused for a moment, both battered and frustrated neither of us were getting the upper hand with what we were doing.

"Why won't you stay down?!" he demanded.

I scoffed. "What is dead can never die. What's your dilemma here? What did Hydra even offer you to make you switch sides?"

"A chance to be something greater than this, the other necromancer, to be a demigod."

"And how's that working out for you?" I asked in bemusement. "They aren't higher powers, they're hired powers, there's a difference. There's no cutting corners on that one, ask nicely or die trying. How did you know where to find me? On the plane?"

"I had a spook tail you, not all the spirits are on your side you know."

"The good ones are, the rest are usually locked or exorcised so kudos on finding one of the select few willing to help a brother out."

He narrowed his eyes at me, collecting powers as he did. "If I'm not given what I want, then I'll have to take it myself just like I did with the other necromancers that went against me."

"And that's why no matter where that stone is surgically implanted in you, you will never be one of us, going against your own kind for something you'll never get." I lowered one hand to the ground and reached into the earth with just death magic alone, calling for something very specific as I waited for him to make the first move this time. "Especially not from me."

"And what makes you so special?" he demanded.

"Come here and find out." He lunged forward, taking the bait and I dropped to one knee at the last second, dodging his power-fist at the same time a rotted hand burst from the ground with my own dagger I snatched up and sliced into my enemy's rotted guts. He stumbled back, his free hand going to his stomach as he was weakened but not done for, the stone keeping him barely alive inside him. "Almost seems pointless since you're already decaying inside."

He looked at the wound I gave him from my dagger and glared at me as it was already speeding up the process. "You little cunt."

"Let me guess, you're gonna kill me, right? Join the line of people with empty threats they never finish."

Black lightning danced around his head and down to his body, staving off the spreading death from reaching his neck but not healing the blade wound either. "Should I rip out your soul first or your stone?"

"You say that like you've actually gotten the upper hand in this fight but who here has the unhealed wound and who here has survived worse?" I retorted.

He sneered at me with his rotten teeth and lunged forward once more but being the slimy little bastard he was, pulled his dagger apart so there were actually two identical ones and threw one at my leg while making a bee line around me with the other dagger at Loki. I gritted my teeth as the dagger hit its mark in my thigh and not wasting time even to take it out of me, threw a power ball at him from behind so he couldn't dodge it and sent him off his course to my lover. I then took out the dagger in my leg and limped over to the bastard despite the agony burning through the entire limb. I didn't wait for him to get up and kicked him hard in the head right where I guessed the stone was before aiming for the wound I gave him with my blade. "Silly asshat, kicks are for ribs." His snapped under my leather boots. He tried to throw the other knife he still had at Loki but I caught it this time and dissolved the twin dagger like I did the one in my leg. I grabbed him by the throat, lifting him up, and slamming into another park tree while holding him in place.

"You really wanna know why you can't kill me after all this time?" I challenged.

"You don't scare me, Nell," he choked out.

I recalled what the Wiccan seer had told me and let go of everything holding me back. "I can fix that. You can't kill a Horsemen." A different kind of power rippled throughout my body, not necromancy, but something stronger, eternal and deadly and incomparable. The entire arm and hand holding him up was skeletal as was half my face and that's when fear started to leak into his. He fought and wiggled in my grasp, trying to pry my bones off his neck but my finger bones just dug in deeper while he kicked at me. I raised my free hand, also all bones, and went for his head, aiming for the stone still managing to keep him alive when his throat was slowly being punctured and torn. And then the world seemed to pause, everything went silent and still, everything was frozen even including most of me as I couldn't seem to reach the stone in his head but was poised to grab it out of his forehead. And then something else happened, something that only happened to me when something very specific was coming. I got what Peter Parker would call the "the Peter tingle" and chills ran up and down my body despite the whole lack of nerves and feelings thing I had being a skeleton.