#that time the world moved in slow motion cause I fell eight feet onto my back as a six year old

[devildomwriter]

Solomon and MC sharing “fun” stories about their lives but it just horrifies everyone else.

Solomon being stuck at the bottom of the ocean, MC buying security cameras because of a neighbor, first time they almost died, etc. and they’re both laughing but everyone else is growing more panicked and reevaluating what they know about human life.

[celsidebottom]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims Additional Tags: Spoilers for 161!, Nightmares, The Extinction, The Lonely

Summary: When Martin dreams of the Extinction and Lonely, Jon sees his nightmares so vividly, and wants nothing more than to stop Martin from suffering any longer.

“Jon, come to bed.”

“I’m not tired.  Not like that.”

Martin stood in the doorway to the bedroom, leaning against the frame as he watched Jon fumble with one of the many tape recorders that followed him around.

“I know, but… you could still use some rest, even if you don’t sleep.”

“I don’t think it works like that anymore.”

Jon was still running his fingers over the buttons when a gently lobbed pillow thudded into his side.  He dropped the recorder and looked up at Martin, aghast.

“Jon, come on, please..."

Martin had a pouty look on his face with sincere worry shimmering in his eyes, and Jon sighed, the faint upturn of a smile at the edge of his lips.

“Yeah, alright.  Fair enough.”

After changing into his pajamas, Jon crawled into bed beside Martin and draped an arm over his waist.  

“Good night,” Martin yawned.  “Thank you.”

“Of course.  Get some sleep.”

Martin gave Jon a quick kiss on the forehead before rolling in the other direction, adjusting his pillows, and starting to let sleep claim him.   Jon moved a little bit closer and rested his head into Martin’s back while his breath slowed.

It wasn’t that Jon didn’t need rest.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to cuddle up beside Martin and hold him tight.  It was that he saw Martin’s dreams, if they could even be called that.

In the world he’d created, there were only nightmares.

La porte est la porte est la porte est la porte est la porte est la…

Martin’s subconscious raced through doors, some half-destroyed and others pristine, interspersed with dark, dilapidated streets.  And in those streets were corpses, mangled and decayed, mutated beyond recognition, embedded into the pavement, entombed in the walls.  Their hands almost reached out at Martin, begging him to save them, but there was no hope for them now.  Martin ran through one last, broken door, and there was only light.

Blinking, Martin, and by extension, Jon, stepped into a hot summer day, the heat casting up wavering lines around them.   Mechanical numbers buzzed in his ear and repeated themselves over and over and over and over.

 Three.  Zero.  Five.  Eight.  Three.  Nine.  Two.  Eight.  Four.  Six.

In the distance, Martin saw a house atop a small hill.  But the smoke that rose from it was not that of a chimney or a contained brushfire.  It is something else entirely, something unimaginable.

 Four.  Seven.  Four.  Nine.

Jon didn’t need to hear the whole sequence of numbers to know what the meaning was:

The World is Always Ending.

Martin’s subconscious faded away in the beeping of each number, their message both a revelation and a perpetually known truth at the same time.  When he looked again, he stood inside a hut that creaked and groaned like shifting metal, mixed with the sound of a distant scream that was ignored as something innocuous.  As Martin stepped toward the twisting statues made from refuse and forsaken objects, the block of concrete at his feet transformed and hissed.

With a shock, Jon pulled himself from the vision.  It was so easy to fall into Martin’s dreams, to see that fear right there inside him, but how much was he going to let Martin bear?  He could feel Martin’s pulse pounding beneath his embrace and the way his breath caught in his throat as the newly manifested snake lashed out at him and the statues turned toward him, liquid concrete pouring from what should have been their eyes and mouths.

Consciously, Jon tried to look away.  It took all his strength to do so, to reach out and shake Martin, to try and wake him from his nightmares.

“Martin, Martin, wake up, please.  Wake up.”

It was no use.  And he knew that when he tried.  It wasn’t the first time Jon had attempted to wake Martin when the fear of his nightmares caused his body to convulse in the night.  Or whatever passed as night anymore.

But Jon could never wake him.  Instead, all he could do was hold Martin a little tighter.

Instantly, Jon was thrust back into Martin’s dreams and the faint hum of carnival music sent a shiver up both their spines.  The people at the game stalls were gaunt and thin, prying apart bones before descending on their injured companion before the life even left his limbs.  And then, when their appetites were only just whetted, they turned toward Martin.

Just as the crowd descended, the scene shifted and changed.  The gentle sound of waves crashing on a shore came first, followed by an image of a beach, but all the colors were desaturated and empty.

It wasn’t the first time Martin dreamt of the Lonely; he’d had visions of it even before the world ended.

Same as before, Martin’s body shuddered under Jon’s embrace and faint, mumbled words escaped his lips in the waking world.

“No… I can’t go back.  I won’t.  Don’t… don’t make me.  Please…”

A quiet sob broke from Jon as he heard Martin beg.  The weakness in his voice, the frailty…

“Wake up, Martin, please.  You’re not there.  It’s not real,” Jon pleaded even though he knew it wouldn’t help.

He’d seen enough terror replayed in his mind, he knew that such platitudes, even if spoken during the consciousness of day, did little to help allay the fear.  Every statement he’d ever read used to show itself in his dreams, but now they didn’t need to – there was enough fear in the air to sate his monstrous appetite at all hours.

It made sense that Martin would dream of the Extinction.  Especially when the world around them was so warped from the way it had been just a few days ago.

And even Jon used to dream of the Lonely, before he no longer needed to sleep.  Visions of fog, the din of static, the sight of Martin turning away from him and disappearing into the void…

Feeling Martin beside him was the only thing that got him through such nightmares.  So, as Jon was unable to wake him, he held onto Martin even tighter, hoping that his presence would be some small comfort when Martin awoke.

They didn’t have to eat anymore, he didn’t have to sleep, why did they still have to dream?  Why did Martin still have to suffer?  He’d been through so much, and yet he was still hurt again and again…

The tears blurred Jon’s vision and he became acutely aware of how closely he held Martin, how his heart raced and his limbs twitched as he tried to find some escape from the Lonely in his mind.  Jon pressed his forehead against Martin’s back and let himself cry, because there was nothing more that he could do, except watch and wait.

“Jon?  Jon, are you okay?”

Martin extracted himself from Jon’s grip and rolled over to face him.  His eyes were alert even though he’d just awoken from a terrible, terrible dream, and he pulled Jon into a firm embrace, before letting go only slightly, his leg gently draped over Jon’s as he brushed away his tears.

“What happened?”

“I’m sorry, Martin, I’m so, so sorry.  You’ve been through so much and I can’t help, I can’t make it better.  I did all this; it’s all my fault, I’m sorry…”

“Jon, please…”  Martin cradled Jon’s head with one hand while the other gently rubbed his shoulder.  A soothing motion, even if it did little to take away the pain.  “I’m guessing you, uh, saw my dreams again?  Bad stuff, huh?”

“You really don’t remember them?”

Martin shook his head.

“You’re lucky.  The other fear I see from everything happening now, the thing that scares me most about it is that it doesn’t scare me.  But with you… I don’t want you to suffer anymore.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Martin insisted softly as Jon let out another heavy sob, even as a tear fell from his own eye.  “The dreams might be bad, but at least I get to wake up and see you here.  For a few moments, then, everything is okay – except when you’re crying, of course, but you know.”

Jon choked out a chuckle and couldn’t help but smile.

“When I wake up and see you, or just feel you beside me, there’s a second where none of the pain matters and I can forget that the world is in such a messed-up state.  I just… I wish that you could find a reprieve like that.  Even for the smallest moment.”

“It doesn’t all go away,” Jon muttered.  “It doesn’t ever stop entirely.  But… it gets quieter when I hold you.”

Martin pulled Jon in tight and wrapped his arms around him, and Jon pressed himself into Martin’s chest.

In a soft whisper, Martin urged, “Then don’t ever let go.”

[fvaleraye]

The Boatman

ayyyyyy, new Scintillam thing asdflknj

this one isn’t very long, but it does kind of introduce the next protag. i say kind of bc his name isn’t rlly... said in the chapter asdflknj the main thing about this chapter is that i had an idea and i wanted to do it, bc i thought it would be neat, and it would tie nicely into this protag’s backstory asdfkljn

either way, i dunno how to rlly feel about it...? but i had fun, and i hope y’all enjoy reading it anyway

A flick of ash. The quiet moans of things better left forgotten. The footsteps of those on their way to places beyond. The gentle sloshing of the stream. The creak of the dock and barge. All of these things could be heard, upon stepping into the Bloodless Temple. A place in the Charred Lands where the walls between the mortal realm and the afterlife grew thin. What few rivers remained in the charred and ashen lands converged in this temple. Few among the living attempt to enter this place, fewer still have the ability to. And none who have come have left. Save for one. Though he does not exactly make a habit of sharing these visits.

Deep within the temple, when the dirty, ash-filled rivers turn blood red, and flame and ember begins to rise from the water, was a dock. A rather ordinary, if ramshackle dock, illogically made from wood, yet despite its surroundings, it was in no danger of failing any who stepped onto it. And there were many today. A long, long, long line, spreading from the edge of the dock to the entrance of the temple, was here today. Though, few could see it. All manner of people were waiting, but few could see them. Few could see the dead. Soon enough, a sole boat came onto the dock. It was a humble vessel, large, but not of fanciful construction. No sails, simply oars. The front decorated with only a mass of skeletons, reaching to the heavens. A board fell unceremoniously unto the dock with a loud thud, and one man stepped from the vessel. A tall, lanky, intimidating man, no less than eight feet. He wore robes of black and gold, tattered as they may be, and an absurdly wide brimmed hat, with a hood. His skin was blue, that of a corpse, and under the shade of his hat one could make out a beard, long, long hair, a dully glowing eyes, but not much else. In his hands was a gigantic, unorthodox scythe, with its handle extending to its head, with a circular grip at the top, and at the bottom, the head of an oar. He stepped onto the dock as the damned souls before him twitched and fidgeted among themselves. He let go of his scythe, letting it seemingly hang in the air of its own accord, and pulled a pipe from his robes, placing it in his mouth. He took a moment to smoke it, letting its purple smog fill the air around him. He held up a hand, and in a flash, a long, long, long scroll appeared in his wizened palm. He took the pipe from his mouth with his free hand, and took a deep breath, before placing it back between his rotten teeth. He then motioned for the line to begin moving forward, and so it did.

The exchanges were wordless. Lost and damned souls placed gilded coins in his palm, he crossed their name from the list, and allowed them passage on his vessel. This continued for a while, the only thing breaking the monotony being the occasional dead that didn't bring payment, forcing him to wave them away. The process went on for hours. Eventually, the sun vanished completely over the horizon, and the moon started to rise. As the midnight hour approached, the boatman set his list aside, causing it combust and vanish. He slowly took the pip from his mouth, and breathed a puff of purple smoke.

"Boat's full." He called, his voice low and raspy. "Come again tomorrow."

Those many still remaining in the line left, some more willing than others. When all the dead cleared out, one remained. Though, he wasn't exactly dead. The boatman breathed a long sigh at the sight him, grabbed his scythe, and stepped over towards him.

He was a pyromancer, clearly. A man resembling a tree, made of ever-burning wood, his feet roots, and embers and smoke randomly spitting from his split limbs. His eyeless face looked up at the other as he approached.

"You're here every day." He observed, holding his pipe between two, uncomfortably long and bony fingers. "But you're not dead."

"And you say this to me every day." The pyromancer responded, his voice ethereal, laced with cracking and hissing of flame.

"She isn't going to be here. The trip is one way." He took a long, deep smoke of his pipe. "And you aren't going to go to her, unless you're dead."

"And bring you payment." He cut in, his tone laced with slight annoyance, but mostly, he just sounded tired. "I've heard the stories and seen you work."

"Yet still you come here. And you sit there."

Silence drifted over the dock, as the boatman smoked, and the trespasser considered what to say. Eventually, as he brought his gaze to the ground, he broke the silence with more than idle crackling. "... I just. I have hope she'll be here. Eventually."

"Hope." He parroted, drawing his pipe from his mouth, and tapping it idly.

"Yeah. Hope." He raised his head again, his tone becoming a bit indignant. "You know what hope is, psychopomp?"

"I know the concept." He took another smoke from his pipe, and then took a moment to replace the... whatever it was he stuffed in it. "It baffles me."

"Does it now?"

"Yes. Life is but a fight for survival, one all mortals are destined to lose. It does not matter what you do, what you accomplish, how many remember you, what you have, what you leave behind. None of it. Soon enough, everything will die."

"I will." He replied, without missing a beat. "I will see her then, for sure. But until then, I have my hope that, perhaps, she will be here before then."

"I have ferried the souls of gods onto my barge and into the eternal abyss. And yet still you, a mortal, dare to hope."

"My hope is all I have."

He took the pipe from his mouth, his other hand leaving the scythe and reaching for his hat. He pulled it from his head, revealing his near skeletal features upon his blue, rotted face. "What a sad life you must lead, then."

There was no response. No words after that. Just silence. The rush of the river, and the crackling of flame. He couldn't exactly refute that. He simply heaved a long, tired sigh, as the uncaring boatman place his hat back upon his head.

"The boat must depart now." He said, stepping away from the sad scene in front of him.

"... hey."

The single word prompted him to slow to a halt, though he did not bother to look over his shoulder. "What now. You and your hope have wasted enough of my time."

"... you've really ferried gods...?" He asked, hesitantly, still sitting upon the edge of the dock. "Gods die?"

"Of course. Everything dies. All must have an end."

"What about you? Who will be there to ferry you?"

"No-one. I do not die. I simply leave, and find work elsewhere."

"Elsewhere...?"

"Gods have souls. Mortals have souls. All beings have souls. I do not, for I am not a being. I am a force of nature, a concept given will. I do not die, for if I did, all would cease to function as it should. But, eventually, I will have none left to ferry. My role here will be done. When that time comes, when all ceases to be, we'll be sure to lock the universe behind us when we leave." With that, he continued his march onto his boat. The plank was pulled back onto it, and the anchors were pulled. The boat sailed slowly from view, the creaks and groans of wooden oars fading into the distance as the river at the edge of the world took them.

"... we...?"

[joonsneptune]

Philosophical Thoughts ✧ KTH

(Taehyung x Reader)

Tags: philosophy discussion, college au, v x reader, genderless Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

A bladder discomfort was what woke you up, forcing you out of the comfort of your bed at 3:43 in the morning. You knew that finishing a bottle of water before bed would not be a good idea, even if it was at the perfect temperature, and it was a good excuse for you to get away from studies for the ethics exam that would happen in a few hours.

With your eyes more closed than open, the path to your shared bathroom seemed to be twice as long as normal, almost a marathon until you sat on the cold toilet in the dark bathroom. Obviously the light had not been turned on, your almost bursting bladder was more important at the moment. Sleep and the late hours forced you to be silent, moving your arms in slow motion, since no one should be awake at this time and you didn't want that to change. The bathroom door is only closed so that the tap noise does not reach the rooms.

With clean hands and empty bladder, your toes prepare for the marathon back to the comfort of your bed, but the open door of Taehyung, one of the boys you shared the apartment with, kept you from making any move, standing there holding your breath so he wouldn't notice you. And suddenly you were more awake than ever, admiring the beauty of the boy who stirred your heart.

Taehyung - or as he begged you to call him, Tae - was also a philosophy student, only a few classes ahead you, and had a brilliant mind, always getting high grades and receiving compliments from the teachers. Constantly you found yourself asking for help on subjects you already knew just to see his bright, enthusiastic eyes as he talked about the most varied philosophical subjects. You also cannot deny that because of it, your grades were above average.

His body sitting on the windowsill was in his pyjamas and bare feet, the strands of dark hair fell over his dimly lit face, and because his head was tilted to the sky, his eyes shone. A book was laying on his legs, there were many notes coming out of the pages and it was already at the end, with very few pages left to finish. You could film as his chest slowly rose and fell, his eyes blinking after a long time, demonstrating that he was focused on what was going on in his head. Or take a picture of that moment to put in a frame on your bedside table next to your bed. He looked like a work of art.

Taehyung sighs heavily, causing your body to tremble in a fright, and his legs come up off the window, his toe touching the floor. "My favorite time of day is at dawn." His words sound low and his face turns toward you. At the same time, you can feel your face burn, pointing it to the ground with shame. How long should he be waiting for you to go back to your room and leave him alone? "Especially in summer, when it's hot and dark, and you can relax or focus on your studies effortlessly. How about you?"

The words escape from your mind, all running away with the shame you felt at that moment. He must think you were crazy, a psycho starring at him in the dark. His mouth opens but still nothing comes out, your hands begin to sweat and then, the worst. You remember you were wearing the most ridiculous pyjamas in the world, blue bears covering your body, not to mention that you didn't have the same body from eight years ago. The pyjamas your grandmother gave you badly covered your body, the shorts just above the thighs covering only your parts, and the shirt was tighter than the ones the girls wore at frat parties. Your luck was that it was dark, because your face looked so red, just like a tomato.

Receiving no response from you, Taehyung pats the empty space beside him, calling you to sit there. Maybe he was already used to your weird personality. Reluctantly, you enter his room with slow steps, holding back not to look around. The decor there was beautiful, and you were obsessed with his bookshelf, which occupied an entire wall. Trying to hide as much of your body as you could with your both arms, you sit next to him, seeing how starry the sky was today. It was really a privilege to study and live far from the big city.

“What kept you up till this hour?” His eyes travel from the sky to your, which were down, toward the book he held. Modern philosophy, your favorite subject.

“I have an exam today.” It wasn't a lie, but to say that you wanted to pee it would be very embarrassing. With a lot of effort, you raise your gaze to him. “It's the last ethics exam of the semester.” Taehyung's head shakes, he'd already been through it, and he knew the feeling.

“And what is it about? It was my turn about Adam Smith's theory of moral feelings.” You agree with him, yours exams would be the same. “I almost didn't pass this exam, it was very difficult. Mr. Brown was very critical of the correction.” Although his words sounded true, you doubted very much what he said. No one was as smart as Taehyung. "But I'm sure you'll make it." A small smile breaks out on his lips, making you smile along. “Want help somewhere? I don't remember everything, but I sure know the basics.”

"I don't know… The only part that is making me nervous is the third." Without realizing it, you pinch the edge of your lips between your teeth as you relay the information from the seven parts of the book into your mind. “The difference between love and praise. Mr. Brown was very clear that he wanted their own vision, not the book's.”

"Ah, what's the matter with that?" Taehyung's face frowns. Being able to demonstrate your opinion and view of things around you was what every student of philosophy wanted most. So would you, if it wasn't about love.

In your head, you were sure that as soon as the next sentence came out of your mouth, the boy in front of you would laugh so loudly that it would wake everyone living in the building. All the courage that existed within your body needs to be gathered. "I don't believe love exists." However, he doesn't laugh. His hands meet his chin and his gaze rises back to the sky behind you, and then he takes a long moment to blink. He was reflecting. Your cheeks burn right away, courage has evaporated from your mere existence, and once again, you face the ground near your feet.

“Elaborate it.” The inside of your body rolls, as if you were on a roller coaster, along with a strange chill. Despite the high grades you got when he helped you, you hated it when he asked it you to. He did not accept a weak elaboration, it had to be a long essay with logical reflections. Maybe that was why he was the best student in his class.

Since his eyes were still on the sky, you take a few seconds for yourself, trying to organize your thoughts in a coherent line of reasoning. The words you had used in the debate earlier appear in your mind, at least at that time people had agreed with you, maybe Taehyung would agree too. Looking smart in front of him would not be a bad idea.

“When you love, do you love the person or the feelings it brings you?” It wasn't a question directed at him, so you continue to explain yourself, still not taking your eyes to him. “Loving a person concerns everything that is involved with her. From the mistakes she makes to the points where you disagree with and go against. And if you love only part of the person, you don't love her, right?” Taehyung shakes his head, causing his dark brown strands to sway along. Your shoulders relax, he had agreed, so what you were talking about wasn't that crazy. You can't help but notice how your heart was beating faster now that your eyes were connected with the boy. “And if we are unable to love, love does not exist. You can't believe something that is unreachable.”

"And how would you explain a child's love for his parents, for example?" You didn't expect him to ask a question, not now. Would that be a good sign?

“As Smith says, there is a difference between love and praise. Love-” now that you have already declared love to be nonexistent, your fingers soar to quote the word, correcting yourself. A smile spread across his lips as Taehyung lets out a low laugh, laughing the way you had corrected yourself. “A son's love for his parents would be praise.”

It was a funny situation, both of you in your pyjamas laughing about the nonexistence of love in the middle of the night, sitting at the window with a whole sky behind you. It's like in a movie, in your head, you two end this discussion with a kiss and a declaration of love. Oh, if he only knew how much you wanted that moment to never end. He would give you a chance out of pity.

“And society has a role in that too!” Your mouth could tear at any moment, with every laugh Tae let out.

“Damn capitalist society.” It's your turn to laugh, which you soon try to stifle with your hands. “But I understand what you mean. Children grow up with a vision that one must love their parents, which has always been imposed by society.” His fingers go up to the air in quick quotes. “The child loves parents because of the feelings they bring to them. Affection, attention…” He counts on his fingers, giving an answer to the question he had asked minutes ago.

"Exactly. Just as society dictates how we should dress, for example, it also dictates what we should feel. It's sad to think so, but we don't love our parents for simply loving, we love because we have this view that one should love them forever no matter what happens.” Your words complement Tae's thinking, which he listens to very carefully, leaving your eyes locked on yours.

"Can you two stop flirting and go to sleep?" Your cheeks soon warm at the boy's words. The voice of Namjoon, the boy who studied sociology, sounds loud, scaring you and Taehyung. Your laughs probably woke him up. "I have a test today.” You both mutter apologies, your voices low, and the blond boy returns to his room.

"He is right. You also have a test today and need to rest.” Taehyung gets up, throwing the book that was once on his lap onto the bed. Your heart breaks into several pieces, realizing that your moment was over. “How about I pick you up after your exam so we can finish this conversation? We can have some coffee together.” His hand extends toward yours, offering help to get up.

All the pieces of your heart come together, beating hard again in your chest. He was calling you on a date. The love of your life was calling you to a date where you would discuss about philosophy. Together for a coffee. That was a date, right? Of course, your cheeks turned hot and red. And of course, it felt like a dream. But fortunately, it was real. And Tae's hand in the air, waiting for yours, was just a confirmation. Of course, you join your hand with his.

“I'd love to.” At least your voice comes out soft as his fingers touch yours. Because your legs tremble when you force yourself to make your way out to your room. “I'll send you a message when it's over.” His smile was as big as yours when he said good night, watching you leave the room, his hands hidden in his pants pocket. His hands were sweating as much as yours were.

You might not realize it, but he was just as excited as you to hear you speak of the philosophy of love with glowing eyes, full of enthusiasm.

[rapperkookz]

Rush!BTΣ — college!au, borderline crack au with @cynoirsure

a story about three friends and their obstacles of relationships, academic probation, and figuring out that international kids aren’t all that bad.

9/35 (Valentines Day Special Part 2)

genre: smut, fluff, angst? word count: 6.8k warnings: swearing, underaged drinking, sex

—————

YOUR POV

Although most of you had a cocktail or two during the dinner, the real drinking was about to start now back at Seokjin and Hoseok’s apartment. Before you all got to it, though, of course you spent at least 30 minutes taking pictures at the apartment’s infamous “marble tapestry wall”. It wasn’t every day that the ten of you stunted like that.

“Wait, can I have a picture with Jungkook?” You asked shyly, “We’re matching.”

“Sure,” Yoongi cracked a grin, holding up his camera as you posed hugging Jungkook’s waist. The boy stiffened as he felt your body lean against his, cheeks flushing as his stare flickered to your plunging neckline and how close it was to his chest. He cleared his throat, trying to channel the confidence that he usually received when dancing, and slung his arms around your shoulder, the corner of his right lip curving upwards into a smirk. “Smile kids.”

“Enough pictures,” Tae complained taking off his shoes and socks and standing on the couch, “let’s fucking drink!”

“Everyone is taking a shot, and I literally mean everyone. That means you too, Jinhee.” Hoseok said pulling her up from where she was sitting. The girl shrugged, one shot wouldn’t kill her. The ten of you gathered in a circle, shots in one hand and phones in the other. The flashes turned on and you cheered, clinking shot drinks with several of the boys before downing it one gulp. Your face scrunched up in disgust at the burning taste of tequila, waving your hand for some water to chase it down.

“Alright, let’s take another.”

“Slow down there, y/n.” Seokjin laughed patting your back, “are you trying to get hammered?”

“It was a rough week, I’m ready to drown in alcohol.” You said pouring yourself another shot and taking it without a second thought. Kevin, Jimin, and Jinhee started to scold you, threatening to leave you in your own vomit if you didn’t pace yourself.

Hoseok laughed, “Last time you got wasted, you offered to suck my dick, y/n.” You apologized defending yourself with sorry, I’m a flirty drunk “Don’t apologize, I was gonna let you. Although tonight, it might not be me you’re going after.”

“What do you mean by that, oppa?”

Before Hoseok could answer, Yoongi played a song that brought you to your feet. Pulling the body closest in your vicinity up with you, you began swaying to the beat, facing the boy whose blue button up resembled your mini dress. “Dance with me Kook, I know you can.”

“Wait, I wanna take another shot,” He said inwardly begging for the alcohol to kick in. You agreed with a smile, entering and leaving the kitchen within minutes before taking hold of Jungkook’s hand, using it as a leverage to spin around. By this point all of you were dancing and slowly but surely getting quite intoxicated. You couldn’t help but stay close to Jungkook, the image of him getting more attractive as the minutes passed by. The room was beginning to get hazy as the alcohol took over your judgement.

Jungkook didn’t seem to be faring any better against the liquid as his hold on your waist tightened and his gaze intensified. The sparkly innocent doe eyes you were usually met with now a different, dark, and seductive look. His eyes mimicked how you would see them when he performed and you would be lying if you said that they didn’t turn you on in the slightest. He leaned closer to you, making you shiver with his breath against your ear, “can I tell you something?”

You nod in anticipation, your heart pounding by how close he was, “I want to kiss you so bad.”

“Why don’t you?”

He smirked leaving their makeshift dance floor to go downstairs to the basement, his eyes telling you to follow him after a few minutes - not that any of the boys or Jinhee would notice, they were caught up in their own drunk antics anyway. Seokjin and Hoseok’s basement was alright, but there were two other rooms that they converted into more guest bedrooms for when the boys slept over. Going inside the first one, you let out a small “oh” as you spotted Jungkook sitting at the edge of the bed, legs spread and arms leaning back against the duvet, “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come.”

“It’s only been 5 minutes,” you crossed your arms, all your weight resting on one leg. The room screamed Seokjin, the walls a nice millennial shade of pink and the furniture statement pieces. The center point of the whole room was the bed with a crown shaped headboard, directly above it hung a banner that said BTΣ. The boy chuckled and stood, towering over you with his large frame. Slowly, he brought his hand to your chin, tilting your head upwards to meet his lips.

The kiss was soft and sweet, nothing like the fiery stares and burning touches that he left on your body earlier tonight. He pulled away much too quickly for your liking, letting out a small whine at the loss of contact. Jungkook found it amusing teasing you, the look in his eyes now playful instead of seductive.

But no, you were not settling with a cute little peck. Almost aggressively, you cupped his cheeks and brought his lips in for another kiss, the force you put against his body enough to make him fall back on the bed. Immediately, you brought your legs to both sides of his lap, straddling him as your arms snaked around his neck. Jungkook’s hands instinctively gripped your waist, barely hovering over the top of your ass. Your lips moved almost desperately against each other, tongues fighting and searching over every crevice of each others’ mouths. Your hands were entangled in his hair, the boy letting out a groan when you tugged on it slightly.

You felt that hit your core.

“y/n,” He breathed out, thrusting up to grind his pelvis against yours. You gasped at the sudden amount of pleasure, your body falling forward against his chest, causing the boy to bite your shoulder in response. This time it was your turn to moan, the sound going straight to his dick. “Hold on, I want to make sure you’re okay with this. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to or push you to go farther than you intend to go-”

“Kook, you’re incredibly sweet and it honestly means the world to me that you’re asking, but I trust you. I know what kind of person you are, and I want nothing more in this moment than for you to fuck me. Don’t hold back.”

It was as if a switch went off in Jungkook’s head, his gaze looking more predatory than ever. His hands went from your waist to your ass, taking fistfuls of your cheeks and squeezing. Your dress was ridden up to your stomach by now, showing the full view of your black Victoria’s Secret thong that you thank god decided to wear. With a smirk, he slipped two fingers under the string, bringing it out far enough so that a light smack resonated the bedroom. “As much as I love this dress on you, I think it needs to go, don’t you think baby girl?”

Your stomach churned at the pet name he gave you, your hands swiftly crossing across your body to remove your dress before he even had the chance. His eyes shamelessly stared at your bare chest, one hand moving up to knead your breast, his index finger and thumb playing with your nipple. You bit your lip at the stimulation, impatiently trying to rid the boy of his own button up.

Before you could rip his shirt open, he flipped you over, your back hitting the mattress with a soft thud. He stood up and went to make sure the door was locked, going back to the edge of the bed soon after. His hands went to his shirt buttons, giving you a little strip show before the fabric fell to the floor. Sitting up on your elbows, you watched as he moved on to his pants, slipping off his belt before undoing his pants and zipper, stepping out of his tight black jeans.

Jungkook rejoined you on the bed, his lips attached to yours as his hands roamed your body. His mouth ghosted over your jawline to your neck, sucking harshly intending to leave several marks. You threw your head back, taking fistfuls of the duvet as one of his hands cupped your core, moving your thong to the side and prodding two fingers at your entrance. It was embarrassing how wet you were, but at that moment, you really couldn’t care less.

His fingers made figure eights on your clit, making you squirm in response. Smiling against your neck, he thrusted his fingers into your pussy, biting at the already abused flesh of your neck as you let out a rather loud moan. You were thankful that the music upstairs was still blasting otherwise the whole apartment would have just heard you.

You reached for his crotch with one hand, squeezing his member through his boxers. Jungkook let out a fuck, hastily removing the last of both of your undergarments. Your eyes bulged at his dick, although not the biggest you’ve ever seen, it was definitely on the girthy side. Impatiently, he went to the drawer and pulled out a condom, rolling it onto his length before lining it up with your entrance. You put your hand on his chest, motioning for him to stop, “wait. Jungkook, I want to suck your dick-”

“Fuck as much as I would love for you to do that, y/n, I need to be inside you right now. We’ll do that next time,” He said moving his tip up and down your slit, making sure it was well-lubricated enough to slide in. You gasped as his dick slowly entered you, feeling the burning stretch almost immediately. As soon as he was buried to the hilt, you clenched your pussy making him moan. “You’re so fucking tight baby girl.”

“Jungkook please move,” you whined thrusting your hips up. The boy grabbed your arms, pinning them against the mattress as he started to thrust at a leisurely pace. “Jungkook.”

“Do you want me to go faster baby girl?” He asked with a smirk, staring down at you authoritatively. You nodded, now that you were used to his length, you needed him to just wreck you.

“Daddy please.”

With the magic word, he rested his forehead against yours, keeping eye contact with you as his pace rapidly quickened. Anyone who said sex intoxicated is a bad idea, has clearly never had sex with Jeon Jungkook. Every time he thrusted back in, his tip lightly grazed over your g spot, your stomach tightening in record time.

You clenched your stomach as your high approached, the sudden tightness making Jungkook drill into you even faster, chasing his own climax. You moaned into his shoulder as you came, the boy muffling curses against your neck as he released into the condom. He rested on top of you, keeping his length in you for a few moments more before he had to pull out.

You were feeling a little bit more sober now, your body still laying down. Jungkook stood and removed the condom, throwing it away in the trash bin before finding some tissues and wiping his length of any cum. Taking an additional few tissues, he returned to where you laid and started wiping your core clean, your body wincing from sensitivity. He apologized with a sweet smile, tossing the tissues before coming back to join you on the bed.

The sweet doe-eyed boy was back, even with how incredibly sinful he looked naked. Jungkook stared at you as you sat up, admiring how breathtaking you looked post-sex. You chuckled and moved closer, hugging his waist, “do you think they’re looking for us?”

“Maybe,” He shrugged wrapping his arms around your body. “We should probably go back.”

You nodded and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, “Yeah, we should, daddy.”

He scoffed as you searched for your dress and thong, “Don’t say that unless you want a round two.”

“Who says I don’t?”

—

“Yooooongi.” Jinhee laid down dramatically from her seated position on the couch, her head hitting Yoongi’s thighs. Yoongi’s slowly sobering attention went to the silver haired girl, looking down and tilting his head when she drawled out his name. “Why the hell are you playing so much rap? It’s thotty hours, we should be playing some fuckin’... Trap or some shit. Give me the fucking phone.” Her hands reached out for the phone in Yoongi’s hand, the phone only lifting slightly so that it was out of her reach. His phone was the only one connected to the house’s speaker, and he was confused as to why she suddenly had a problem with the music.

Jinhee whined, sitting back up and reaching for his phone once more. Once she was basically on his lap, she finally got a hold of his phone, trying to unlock it. Yoongi sighed, holding his hand out.

“Jinhee, my lineage are the only people who can unlock it, give me back my phone.” Yoongi managed to muster at least a little bit of authority in his voice, grabbing for his phone from the younger one. Jinhee only kept swerving, getting up and stumbling around to avoid Yoongi grabbing for his phone. He only followed after her slowly, watching her stumble around.

“What the fuck? Why won’t it unlock?! I won’t until we play fucking something else! Alexa, play Reel It In by Amine!” Jinhee managed to yell that over the music, frowning when she didn’t get a response back. Yoongi furrowed his brows. Seokjin and Hoseok didn’t have an Alexa in the first place, so where did Jinhee get that idea?

“Jinhee, maybe you need to drink some water…“ Yoongi started, swiping his phone from her. He tucked his phone away and reached towards Jinhee. She squinted, pushing the general direction of Yoongi’s hands away.

“Bitch, why the fuck are you trying to touch me? Weird ass creep!” A hand flew in the air, and a crisp smack resonated through the room.

If Yoongi wasn’t completely sober before then, he clearly was now. He stood there in shock, trying to process what was happening, but everything after that felt like it was happening in slow motion. Jinhee attempted to jump on him to hit him more, but she was held back by Jimin, who was oddly concerned about her.

“Woah woah calm down Jinhee! You know what? You need to calm down, let’s go to Jin hyung’s room.” Jimin said softly, spinning her around and leading her to Seokjin’s room. His hand settled on the small of her back, making Yoongi shift uncomfortably.

He sat back down on the couch, sighing slowly in defeat. Namjoon came over a few beats later with a bag of frozen pineapple from the freezer, gently pressing it to the reddening skin of Yoongi’s cheek.

“Hyung, are you good?” Namjoon took Yoongi’s phone, changing the music but to something calmer. The party that the 10 of them were hosting had been dying down for a little now, since you, Jungkook, Jimin, and Jinhee were missing from the main scene. Yoongi only frowned, shaking his head.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve met a violent drunk…” Yoongi laughs a little, throwing his head back.

“You know what, I didn’t expect that from her.” Seokjin laughed, settling on Yoongi’s other side. Yoongi held the frozen pineapple, letting Namjoon’s hand rest. Seokjin was only slightly tipsy and Namjoon, after hitting the wall, decided he was done with alcohol for the night, so he was also sobering up with the two seniors.

“I feel really bad though…” Yoongi frowned, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his thighs. He set down the bag of frozen pineapple, burying his face into his hands. “I didn’t want her hating me for anything, it’s just hard forming words around her and her and Jimin kinda make me upset, is that weird? I’ve been floored by her voice for like. Months now. I caught her singing late in the practice rooms one night while I was figuring out my rep for my last recital and I just fell in love with her voice— and to now put a face to that voice? Jinhee’s an angel and I feel bad for making her mad...” Yoongi sighed, massaging his temples. This wasn’t the first time Seokjin had heard Yoongi talk about his best friend like this, but hearing it sober for the first time was almost unbearable.

“Yoongi, I love you, but you need to apologize to her. And maybe confess to her. Maybe dick her down.” Seokjin patted Yoongi gently, the younger one’s face going red.

“I’m getting to that second one! I don’t know about that last one!” He exclaimed, a smile cracking on Seokjin’s face. Yoongi stood up, hyping himself up to go into the room.

In the room, however, Jinhee was still as heated as she was before, pacing back and forth in Seokjin’s room. Jimin watched her pace and babble from Seokjin’s gaming chair, casually biting his lower lip while he eyed the singer.

“Why the fuck was he being so mean to me? He fucking started it. He wouldn’t let me fucking change the song?? It literally takes like 2 seconds to unlock his fucking phone. I fucking hate him? And don’t get me fucking started on how much I want to kiss him! Have you seen his hands? I don’t even know if I want them on my neck choking me hard enough that I have to learn how to do actual makeup to match my neck or if I just want to hold them!” She exhaled loudly, stopping in front of Seokjin’s bedside table. She eyed the picture of Seokjin and Yoongi from their reveal for Beta Tau their freshman year, picking the frame up.

She made the motion to throw it down, but right when she was about to drop it, a hand wrapped around her wrist, spinning her around so that she was face to face with Jimin.

“You’re so reckless sometimes, you know that, Jinhee darling?” His hands pried the framed picture away from her hands, setting the frame back down on the bedside table, only face down so that it wouldn’t crack. “I promised the hyungs I’d calm you down, so why don’t you sit down? I know the perfect way to calm you down.” His eyes glinted with a little bit of mischief, pushing her gently onto the bed. Once she was sitting, he pushed her slightly, letting her move so that she was backing up and sitting with her back leaning on the sea of pillows propped up on the bed frame. He crawled over Jinhee, making her blush and look away.

Jimin only chuckled, using one of his fingers to trace her jawline before tilting her head gently so that they were making eye contact again while the other kept him steady holding the bed frame. “Trust me, I know exactly what I’m doing.” He leaned in close, hearing Jinhee suck in a breath. Another chuckle.

Jimin began to pepper small kisses along Jinhee’s jawline and down her neck, stopping occasionally on her neck to bite down, but not enough to make a mark. A small moan escaped her lips, her body becoming like putty in his arms as she tilted her head back so that he could have more room. He pulled away, cupping her cheeks.

“Do you trust me?” Jimin carefully asked. His lips ghosted over hers, causing Jinhee to nod eagerly, her eyes matching his with full blown lust. Jinhee closed the gap between them almost desperately, sighing in bliss when he began kissing back, her arms wrapping around his waist.

Jimin’s hands moved sensually against her body, his fingertips already playing with the edge of her dress. Lifting it up, his hands lightly moved up and down the outside of her thighs before moving inside to spread her legs apart. “Jimin.”

“I’m here to help you relax, baby.”

He kissed her once more, expertly moving his lips as his hand stayed on Jinhee’s inner thigh. She sighed in content as the older boy finally pressed his fingers against the cloth of her underwear, “I can feel how wet you are, baby.”

She blushed at his comment, turning her head away to the side. He only grinned, moving downwards so that he was face to face with her core. Jimin looped his fingers around the sides of her panties, licking his lips in anticipation.

“Hey, Jinhee?” The door opened suddenly, Yoongi standing at the doorway with Seokjin.

“What the fuck?” Seokjin said shocked at the sight of his brother about to eat out his best friend. Jinhee sat up abruptly quick, her face burning.

“I need to. Bathroom. Attempt to die by eating Seokjin’s lemon soaps.” She muttered quickly, speeding through into the private bathroom. Once the door closed, Yoongi stomped up to Jimin, grabbing him by the collar.

“You. Absolute. Fuck.” Yoongi growled, Seokjin stood next to Yoongi, hoping he wouldn’t beat his brother up. “What the fuck were you trying to do with her?”

“I was trying to make her relax, hyung. Isn’t that what I promised?” Jimin said quite casually. Yoongi paused for a minute, letting go of his collar. Jinhee peeked her head out of the bathroom, slowly trying to sneak out incognito. She managed to slip past the three, praying constantly that the floors wouldn’t creak. She successfully snuck out, relaxing and going over to the couch where Namjoon sat, scrolling through his phone. Kevin, Taehyung, and Hoseok were engrossed in a game of Cards Against Humanity on the floor, so Jinhee sat next to Namjoon. She sighed, taking the plush that rested on the couch and mashing its face in. “Hookup culture is fucking weird, Joon.”

“You’re telling me. Have you seen y/n and Jungkook? I’m pretty sure they’re partaking in said culture.” Namjoon counted heads, clicking his tongue.

Back in Seokjin’s room, Jimin, Seokjin, and Yoongi were still in the same predicament, Yoongi’s arms crossed as he towered over Jimin.

“Park Jimin. You know she was intoxicated. So why did you still try taking advantage of her?” Yoongi sighed, mussing up his own hair. The younger one shrugged, smirking a little at Yoongi.

“She was extremely willing to let me use my ways to calm her down. Why are you so mad, hm? Not like you like her or anything, right?” Jimin asked rhetorically, before seeing the change in Yoongi’s face. “Oh? Did I strike a chord?” Jimin asked innocently, smiling lazily at Yoongi.

“Jimin, you’re drunk. Apologize to him,” Seokjin said firmly, holding back Yoongi from doing anything irrational. Jimin shrugged again, leaning back on his propped arms.

“You know what? It’s whatever, I’m just gonna take her home and apologize in the morning.” Yoongi left the room, not wanting to deal with his brother anymore.

Yoongi walked back into the living room, where Jungkook and you were finally back up in, looking a little presentable in comparison to what you two were just doing. You two had joined the three playing the card game on the floor, Namjoon and Jinhee watching a video on Namjoon’s phone. The party had died down considerably, making Yoongi sigh. It was still a weekday so he justified his next move, walking up to Jinhee who only eyed him and crossed her arms.

“I’m here to take you back to your dorm, Seokjin said you had a shift tomorrow.” Yoongi started off carefully. Jinhee didn’t seem to object, instead, she sat up from resting on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“Already? Jinnie’s no fun.” She sighed, easily complying with Yoongi. Taehyung and Kevin also looked up, seeing the two getting ready to leave.

“Oh, are you two leaving already? Can we tag along?” Taehyung piped up. Yoongi nodded, motioning them to get ready as well.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna drop Jinhee off and—“

“Ah, shit. I forgot my keys at my dorm and my roommate’s out on a fucking date.” Jinhee groaned, throwing her head back. “I’ll just sleep in like the lounge or something…” She huffed, but Yoongi’s fist tightened.

“You can sleep in my dorm, it’s a single.” Yoongi waved goodbye to everyone, Jinhee’s arm around his shoulder and Kevin and Taehyung trailing behind, suspiciously holding hands with each other.

—

Once Yoongi checked Jinhee in and bid goodnight to Kevin and Taehyung, the two younger brothers went back to Taehyung’s room, considering that Kevin’s roommates were back and he didn’t want to deal with them just yet. Considering they weren’t as drunk as before, Taehyung felt completely confident in confiding in someone else that wasn’t just his soulmate.

“Hey, Kevin?” Taehyung asked absentmindedly, locking the door behind him. Yeontan saw the two come in and came running over to greet the new guest, Kevin smiling softly when he saw the little ball of fluff hop on his leg. Kevin crouched down, picking up the pomeranian, scratching his chin. “I have a question…” Taehyung bit his lip. The two sat down on the floor in their room, Yeontan running around the two of them. Kevin tilted his head, curious as to what Taehyung had to say.

“Oh? Shoot.” Kevin’s smile sent a little flutter to Taehyung’s stomach. The older’s hands were clasped, trying to calm down.

“Earlier on the dance floor… You whispered in my ear and you told me that you really liked me, is that true?” Taehyung stared at his hands. “Because I’ve been thinking about it and maybe I don’t just like girls? I often imagine myself maybe getting with people like you and not just for sex like. I just wanna give you the world sometimes and the fact that you wore real Gucci, and not even that knockoff sh—“ Taehyung’s words were cut off by a kiss, his eyes widening. Kevin didn’t feel the kiss being reciprocated, so he began to pull back. Almost frantically, Taehyung pulled him back in for another kiss, sighing in relief.

They continued to make out for a little, not going any further due to the awkward position of their knees bumping each other from the both of them sitting cross legged and the sheer fatigue both of them were feeling. They both managed to get up and make it onto Taehyung’s bed, soft whispers of “i really like you” and replies of “me too, love”.

—

“Well, I think it’s time for me to take the kids back.” Namjoon stood next to Seokjin, the two of them watching Jimin fuss about the mess in the apartment. Jimin’s punishment, given to him by Seokjin and Hoseok, was to clean up the apartment, which was a mess to say the least. You and Jungkook were sitting on the couch now, holding each other’s hands and half asleep. Seokjin nodded, patting Namjoon on the back.

“Have a safe trip back up to north campus, alright?” Namjoon only nodded, walking over to you and Jungkook and smiling.

“Hey you two, time to go back up to your dorm.” Namjoon stifled a yawn. You and Jungkook nodded, the both of you getting off the couch. Jimin noticed your figures moving, a pout on his face.

“Ah~ My baby y/n is leaving? Have a safe trip back!” Jimin said cheerfully, although him throwing the cups into the trash bag conveyed that he was just very sad to see you go. You giggled, giving him a tight hug before joining Jungkook and Namjoon at the door.

“I’ll text you when I get back to my dorm to let you know I didn’t die the two blocks back to north campus!” You yelled, grabbing Jungkook’s hand as he balanced you while you slipped your shoes on. The three of you waved to those left in the apartment, starting the walk home. The whole time, you and Jungkook walked ahead of Namjoon, the older one bidding you two a goodnight as soon as you two got back to your dorm. Jungkook scanned his ID at the front of the gate to your dorm, the two of you managing to get back up to the elevators. You didn’t realize that you two lived on the same floor till then, and you only realized it when you both got off at the same floor.

“Don’t forget to wake up for our 8 am~” Jungkook teased you, adding a cute ending syllable to your name. You blushed a little, giggling before you snuck one last kiss before running into your room. Once the door shut, your grin never fell off your face till you fell asleep, and Jungkook would also have to say the same.

—

Your alarm sounded at 6:30 am, you groaned squinting at the tiny screen of your phone. Fuck, you had class. You got ready for class half-awake, putting the least amount of effort possible to look presentable to go out. Your mind didn’t register the events from last night until you saw Jungkook walk into class, wearing grey sweats and a white shirt (no surprise there) and making a simple outfit look so fucking good. You, on the other hand, suddenly felt self conscious about your pink hoodie, black leggings, and messy bun. Nonetheless, you waved brightly as you made eye contact with him. Jungkook waved awkwardly, sitting in the front row instead of his usual spot in the back next to you. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, staring into the back of his head as you wondered why he was acting so weird. He didn’t even respond to the meme you texted him during class, and he always responded to memes.

Warily, you approached him as class ended, Jungkook had a habit of packing up slowly. “Hey, did I do something wrong? You’re acting really weird.”

He looked up at you, his eyes widening like a deer in headlights, “N-no, you did nothing wrong! Sorry, I just uh...I gotta go, y/n.”

You frowned as he left the classroom, panic suddenly filling your insides at the events from last night. You cradled your head in your hands, your breath getting shorter as you stressed out. Immediately, you rushed back to your dorm, not having the willpower to go to your next class. After dropping your backpack in your dorm room, you pulled your phone and some headphones out, dialing your Big on FaceTime.

“My Little,” she smiled upon answering, “I was meaning to call you last night and tell you that you looked so hot, but I fell asleep and forgot.”

“Unnie.”

Tears pooled in your eyes, your voice breaking as you called out her name. Her face broke out in worry, questioning you endlessly as you began to cry. As soon as you regained your breath, you spilled everything about last night and this morning to her, “-I just don’t know if he like regrets having sex with me? Or if he just became friends with me so that we could fuck and now that we have he doesn’t wanna be friends anymore?? Like Jieun unnie, I don’t know what--”

“Stop, now that sounds ridiculous. Jungkook wouldn’t do that to you, especially since you’re Jimin’s potential little sis. It would ruin their brotherhood if he played you like that,” Jieun said reasonably, “He’s probably just dealing with his own shit, y/n. I don’t think you should take it personally.”

“But what if-”

The lounge door slowly opened, the same brown-haired doe-eyed boy that you were ranting about behind the door. He called your name softly, asking if you wanted to talk back in his room. You told your Big you would call her later, furiously wiping away at your tears as you followed him the couple rooms down to his single. You sat down on his bean bag chair as he went to his bed, the atmosphere awkward as he stared at you sniffling across from him.

“y/n-”

“Was I bad yesterday? Like was I just a really bad fuck?” You blurted, eyes puffy from crying.

He shook his head, both hands mirroring the movement as he continuously denied your statement, “No y/n, you were, wow, amazing. It was honestly the best I’ve had. I just...like...isn’t drunk sex nonconsensual??”

“What?”

“I don’t want you to feel like I took advantage of you or something, especially since you’re basically Jimin hyung’s little. And I made you cry too, like-” He stopped as you started giggling, confused at your change of emotion.

“Jungkook, I wanted everything that we did yesterday. I don’t regret any single part of it.” You said, “it’s cute that you would worry about this.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yeah, I mean, we did agree on a round two, didn’t we?” You said with a little smirk, wiping away any leftover tears from your face.

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, “I’m sorry for making you cry. Trust me, that was the last thing I ever wanted to do.”

You crossed your arms, “That’s because I thought you hated me or maybe you thought I was ugly, I don’t know.”

“I don’t hate you, y/n, and you are nowhere near ugly.” He said grabbing your hands to pull you up for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his waist, your body suddenly hyperaware of his abdomen pressing against you. He relaxed, resting his chin on top of your head. “So, daddy kink, huh?”

You shoved him away while laughing, but he caught the blush on your cheeks. You told him to shut up, threatening to tell the boys about what happened.

“I think you’d be in more trouble than me, y/n.” He chuckled, “besides, I think they already know.”

“They do? Jimin oppa knows?”

“We were all pretty drunk last night, y/n. Apparently even Jinhee noona slapped Yoongi hyung.” He said, your mouth making an O shape at the new piece of information. The both of you casually sat down on his bed, suddenly not knowing what to say.

“So, uh, what do you wanna do about last night?” He asked, fingers playing with the ends of his shirt.

“Well,” you said carefully, “what can we do?”

“We can either pretend it never happened, say it was a one time thing, or I don’t know, maybe we can make a deal.” He said, his voice trailing at the end.

You raised your eyebrow, “What kind of deal? Like, be fuck buddies?”

“I mean, yeah.” He said, a flash of confidence in his tone, “College and Greek life is stressful, and having someone to relieve stress with - that isn’t a stranger - could be beneficial. For the both of us?”

“I don’t fuck around with many guys, Jeon. Even though drunk me may act differently.” You said seriously, “you’re a sweet friend, but I know your previous sex stories and I’m not the kind of girl who waits to be someone’s safe backup when they get rejected by someone else.”

“I swear y/n, if you agree to this, you’ll be the only girl I’ll be with.”

“Fine. But if I see you hook up with someone else at a party, I’ll beat you up before Jimin oppa can.”

He smiled, completely hooked by your feistiness. “Deal, baby girl.”

—

The first thing Jinhee felt when she woke up was the head splitting headache. She groaned, the feeling of death washing over her senses.

Right… That’s why she didn’t drink. The pounding in her ears seemed to almost be unbearable, but the warmth on top of her head helped aid the headache.

Wait— Why was there something warm on her head?

Jinhee mentally prepared herself for the light, opening her eyes to see a pair of green cat eyes looking back at her curiously. Immediately, instead of freaking out, she only tensed for a split moment before reaching up to the cat on her chest, her hand in a loosely covered fist. The grey cat saw the movement, only registering it for a few seconds before it began to nuzzle into her hand. Jinhee softened, scratching the cheek of the cat. It was only then that Jinhee saw the sleeves of the dark green sweater she was wearing. Last she remembered, she never owned a dark green champion crewneck. Immediately, she sat up, squinting as she didn’t have her contacts in. She looked around the room, hazy memories of her making out with someone making her heartbeat speed up. The cat, which had hopped off her chest as soon as she sat up only looked back at her in curiosity before her eyes landed on the sleeping figure on the couch across from the single desk in the room.

There was Min Yoongi, sleeping casually on the couch. She connected two and two, recognizing the cat to be his own, Killmonger. The said cat hopped onto the couch, kneading at the throw blanket on top of the sleeping pianist. Jinhee’s face went red, watching as he woke up. Yoongi woke up slowly, sitting up and looking over at the blushing singer.

“Mm, good morning, Jinhee.” Yoongi’s morning voice sent shivers down Jinhee’s spine, the younger one’s mind already going a million miles a minute.

“Did… Did we do something last night? Why am I here? Why didn’t you just leave me at Seokjin’s place?” Jinhee was asking too many questions for her head to be in that much pain and for Yoongi just waking up. Yoongi gave a little chuckle, his hand casually scratching his cat’s cheek.

“Nothing happened, but you did almost strip in front of me after complaining dresses were too confining, hence my sweater and a pair of shorts a girl left behind some months ago -- don’t worry, it’s washed.” Jinhee felt a twinge of jealousy, only casually gripping at the cuffs of the sweater before releasing her fists.

“But that doesn’t explain how I got here! I remember making out with someone, was that someone you? Oh my god, did Killmonger watch us?” Jinhee interrogated. This time, it was Yoongi’s turn to tense up. He stopped scratching Killmonger for a little too long, the cat sliding out of his hand. After the flash of anger subsided, Yoongi only chuckled.

“No, it wasn’t me. To explain, you slapped the shit out of me because I didn’t let you change the music and Seokjin just told me to bring you home… Which, by the way, I’m sorry I didn’t let you change the music, although, I don’t think sober you wouldn’t put up as much of a fuss as drunk you did.” His explanation only made Jinhee more embarrassed hearing about her drunk. She looked down, playing with the hem of the sweater.

“I-it’s okay, I guess.” Jinhee’s words barely came out above a whisper, but it was loud enough that Yoongi could hear her. She swung her feet over to grab her (charging, she might add) phone. Her eyes widened at the time, “oh fuck, my shift starts in an hour…” She scrambled over to the door, wincing when she put the high heels back on and grabbed her dress from the desk chair. “Thank god I live across the street, right?” She laughed a little uncomfortably, Yoongi trailing behind her so he could check her out of the building. He grabbed onto a little gift before they both left his dorm, the both of them going into the elevator and heading down.

He gave the RA on duty a little nod as she grabbed her ID, his fist clenching a little around the gift for her.

“Jinhee.” Yoongi finally mustered the courage to say her name, the younger one spinning around in curiosity and almost losing her balance. Jinhee tilted her head, watching Yoongi retrieve a little gift bag from his pocket. Inside the clear cellophane bag was some matcha shortbread cookies, haphazardly covered in white chocolate and the bag was tied off with a ribbon wrapping and her name written messily on a card. “I forgot to give this to you yesterday, uh. Happy Valentines day?”

Jinhee’s heart softened at the bag of cookies, taking it with a smile. “Y-Yeah, happy Valentines, Yoongi.” Their hands lingered on each other for just the slightest bit before she raised her other hand to wave goodbye, running across the street to her dorm.

It wasn’t till she got home and looked at herself in the mirror when she realized she was barefaced, meaning he had wiped off her makeup while she was sleeping. Her mouth curved into a small smile once more, putting on her regular makeup and her glasses before changing into pants. She opted to wear the same sweatshirt (it fits my hair color, she convinced herself), grabbing her backpack with Yoongi’s cookies in it and keys before slipping on her shoes and leaving her dorm.

—

2-14-19

happy valentines day everyone :)

[evolutionsvoid]

The Mossy Sleeper is a denizen of temperate rainforests, a habitat filled with rain, fog and moss. This species is not found anywhere else, as it relies heavily on these specific conditions to survive. It lives on the forest floor, where it hides and hunts among the ferns, shrubs and moss. Though it is large in size (with adults being eight to ten feet in length, and four feet at the shoulder), it can be a surprisingly difficult creature to locate! This is because the Mossy Sleeper is a master of camouflage! It cloaks itself so well that for the longest time people could not properly identify what type of animal it was! With bony growths, a quadrupedal gait, long tail, toothy snout and lazy lifestyle, many believed that the Mossy Sleeper was a reptile. While some may wonder why no one noticed the lack of scales, you have to remember that this species coats itself from head to tail with layers of moss, algae and debris! They shroud themselves in a cloak of vegetation, one that is so dense that it practically serves as an extra pelt! This kept observers from seeing their true bodies and from noticing the presence of hair. It turns out that this species is mammalian! Beneath all that greenery, the Mossy Sleeper has a specialized coat of fur that allows this incredible disguise to work. The outer most layer of hair is long and coarse, but it also appears to be absorbent. These factors cause the hair to quickly become tangled and damp, which serves as an excellent growth medium for algae and moss. The coarseness gives these growths something to hold onto, while the absorbent nature allows the hair to act as water reserves. The same goes for the patchy dermal armor that grows on its back and limbs. These too are coarse and porous, allowing all sorts of plant life to grow on top of them. In time, the Mossy Sleeper will become thoroughly coated in vegetation, with random debris becoming stuck in the growths for extra effect. By combining this green cloak with its slow lifestyle, the Mossy Sleeper can easily blend itself in with the surrounding landscape. The second part of its name should be a good hint at what speed this species lives on. Mossy Sleepers are quite lethargic and prefer to stay in one place for long periods of time. They can and will walk around, be they do so almost begrudgingly. A brisk walk can easily outpace them, as they slowly plod their way through the ferns and trees. What Mossy Sleepers really want to do is lay down on the ground and wait. They can sit in one spot for not just hours, but days and weeks on end. The near constant rain provides water, and their own veggie coat can provide food in a pinch. This shroud of moss and algae is what allows them to blend in with the rainforest floor. As they sit motionless, the growths shall reach the ground and they will become just like any other moss-covered log. Their bony growths further add to this effect, as their brown coloration and random shapes make them appear as branches and twigs. The growth of these protuberances are random and erratic, making it so that no two Mossy Sleepers will be identical. Their brittle consistency makes them a bit fragile, but these occasional breaks help change the Sleeper's silhouette over time. After laying and waiting for a few days, you will be hard pressed to pick them out of the landscape. Their breathing is quiet and they are great at remaining motionless. As some have said, you can only tell a Mossy Sleeper apart from a log when you wake up one morning and find that it has walked off! I can embarrassingly attest to this, as I too had a hard time tracking down a specimen. After hours of searching and coming up empty, I decided to take off my heavy pack and take a rest. I found a nice log to break at, and the spongy moss was almost as soft as a blanket! I laid on top to catch my breath and admire the glistening canopy above. I must have been pretty tired, as I apparently dozed off. I later awoke to an odd motion, as if I was bobbing down a river. Much to my surprise, it turned out my napping log was actually one of these creatures! My obnoxious violation of personal space must have irritated the Sleeper and it decided to move to a different spot. I couldn't believe my eyes! I was riding atop the very thing I sought for! I did my best to remain calm and not startle the poor beast, and eventually it came to a rest. From there I took my leave and dismounted. I think I stood there staring at the creature for hours, just so blown away by what just happened. It was a truly amazing experience! That was until I realized that my backpack and supplies did not make the trip with me. I had to retrace its steps to find my gear before dark fell or some pesky critters nabbed my food!

Speaking of food, the Mossy Sleeper is an omnivore. I would say it is an opportunistic omnivore, but that would imply too much energy and motivation. They are more like a "I will eat whatever happens to be around my face" type of creature. Ferns, fruits, nuts, rodents, lizards, insects and any other morsel is good enough for them. Their disguised bodies do well at fooling small critters, and they may dine on the creatures that try to use their bulk as a shelter. Though their large canines and horned carapace may give off a monstrous look, they are rather laid back and nonthreatening. I mean, do recall I accidentally slept on top of one! As for predators, the Mossy Sleeper has very few. Their disguise makes them difficult to find, both through sight and smell. Since they are coated in moss, debris and other crud, their own odor is masked. This same coat also serves as a means of defense. If something wants to run up and take a bite out of them, they will just get a mouthful of algae, moss and hair. The branch-like growths and brittle armor helps with this as well, taking the blow before it reaches any vulnerable flesh. With these layers, the Mossy Sleeper has time to retaliate, often striking with its heavy tail or taking a bite with its large fangs. Though their jaws are not super strong, they are capable of holding on for quite a long time. Their rather effective strategy is to simply grab hold with their teeth and then just sit there while the trapped beast tires itself out. Eventually their would-be attacker will regret its decision and seek to flee, at which the Sleeper will let them go. They will then limp off to lick their wounds, while the Mossy Sleeper claims its hard won nap. Though Mossy Sleepers are large and unique, they are often forgotten when it comes to the public mind. Funny enough, I believe it is its disguise that is to blame for this! Since they are hard to find or see, many tend to forget about them as they wander the rainforest. Even adding them to paintings or drawings can fail to garner attention, as their entire purpose is to blend in with the background. If you depict them resting and hidden, then you have a done a good job at representing them (though your audience may not notice). If you draw them up, obvious and mobile, though, you will draw the viewers eye but ignore the very thing that makes them interesting. It's a battle that is quite hard to win! The only real mention I have heard of Mossy Sleepers in the outside world is when I came across folk who wished to refer to these creatures as "Moss Dragons." I do not know their motivation for such a title change, but they were quite into the idea. I, however, was fully against it. The term "dragon" is already messed up enough as it is, and this species did not fit at all with the "Dragon Beasts." The only thing to come from this name change is to create the idea that this species is harmful or dangerous, and nobody wants that! Thankfully, the world chose not to care about this attempt, and I haven't heard a thing from it since. What I have run into, though, are local cultures that have given the Mossy Sleepers a far more fitting image. Due to their green growths and peaceful lifestyle, they shown as emissaries of nature and spirits of the earth. Through them, one can focus on their oneness with the natural world and seek to blend in with the air, earth and trees. In some cases, the Mossy Sleeper is seen as a creature of dreams. While it lays and rests, it is said that it moves on to a different plane, where it thrives and seeks. Those who are more attuned to the realm of dreams may be visited by this spirit, and it shall guide them to its hidden, sleeping body. There bthey may learn from the creature and further find themselves. It makes me wonder: what if you accidentally use one as a bed? Does that mean anything? Probably that I am a fool, but I hope for a more dignified answer.   Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian --------------------------------------------------------------------- The world needed some more mammals and I was happy to oblige!      

[argyle-s]

THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME CHAPTER 38/38

Rating: Mature

Read at Ao3

Start at the Beginning

One moment, told from eight points of view.

Thanks to @ifourmindbeso for her great work as a beta. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.

Chapter 38 -  The Motion of Falling Bodies

KPJT Channel 3 News Special Report

Leyna Nguyen Reporting Live From CatCo Plaza

“For those of you just joining us, we are currently live at CatCo Plaza in downtown National City where, just minutes ago, National City’s resident superhero Supergirl was struck from the sky in a vicious attack. A number of reporters leaving the CatCo building following a surprise press conference given by President Olivia Marsdin were filming the Girl of Steel’s departure from CatCo, and caught the attack on film. A word of warning to sensitive viewers, the footage you are about to see is both violent, and disturbing, and KPJT News strongly recommends not letting younger viewers watch.”

The scene cut away from Leyna to taped footage showing the top of the CatCo building. For a moment, there was nothing, but then a small figure in red and blue rose up over the edge of the building. Even at a distance, it was easy to see that her movements were carefree, almost playful as she rolled in mid-flight to look back towards the building. It was this move that put her in exactly the wrong position to see what happened next. A bright red object shot across the frame, coming in from behind Supergirl to strike her squarely in the head, exploding on impact.

Supergirl, lifeless and limp slammed into the CatCo logo so hard she bounced and then she fell. The camera tracked her down to where she landed, half-on and half-off the lower tier of the building, but her own weight dragged her over the edge, causing her to plummet the remaining thirty stories down to the middle of the square in front of the building. The impact of her body shattered the concrete, and she lay there, face covered in blood, hair matted, still as the grave.

Before anyone could move in to see if she was alive, Superman slammed down next to her and scooped her up in his arms, shooting off into the air, disappearing from view.

The scene cut again, showing Leyna standing in front of the crater left by Supergirl’s fall.

“As you can see, Supergirl was struck in the head by some sort of weapon that was strong enough to make even the Girl of Steel bleed. No word has come yet, either from the National City Police Department, or the newly announced Department of Extranormal Operations, as to who might be behind this vicious attack on the hero of National City, or as to Supergirl’s condition. Some are already speculating that she might be dead, while others wonder if Superman will use the same medical equipment Supergirl used last night on former CatCo Radio personality Leslie Willis to save Supergirl’s life. Only time will tell.”

“Reporting live from CatCo Plaza, this is Leyna Nguyen for KPJT Channel 3 News signing off.”

Cat stood motionless in her office, staring at the screens in front of her. Every one of them showed the same thing. The angles might be a bit different, but over and over again the screens behind her desk showed her Kara being shot out of the sky.

It had all happened so fast. The press conference had ended. Cat had slipped back into the empty conference room they’d used as an arrival point. Kara had hugged her and told her she had to go and talk to Olivia for a few minutes, and Cat had laughed as Kara and Clark had headed for the stairwell, bickering like a pair of children arguing over who was the better flier. Cat had just enough time to see the indulgent smiles on the faces of Kara’s aunt and sister before they’d disappeared in a flash of light, leaving Cat and Jackson behind.

She’s been in her office just long enough to fill a tumbler with M&M’s when James had come in, followed closely by Jackson, both wearing looks that told her the news was going to be bad. She’d looked at them and she knew. She couldn’t understand how it could have happened so quickly, but she knew.

She’d watched with a strange sense of detachment as James had picked up the remote and turned on the screens. She’d felt numb as she listened to the first report.

At some point, she became aware that she’d dropped the tumbler and the floor was covered with M&M’s, and it seemed important. It seemed real. Because what she was seeing couldn’t be. The thick air surrounding her, making it hard to breathe, couldn’t be. The weight pressing down on her chest, the blinding light, the way she could suddenly hear every noise in the room echoing painfully in her ears, the way the world was closing in and crushing her, none of that could be real.

She wasn’t sure who caught her when she fell, but it was the hobbit who was kneeling in front of her, guiding her, urging her to lean down and put her head between her knees. She didn’t remember him arriving, but he told her to take deep breaths and he rubbed her back. He wrapped a blanket around her and held a garbage can for her while she vomited into it.

Winslow. That was his name. The computer genius who couldn’t pass the background checks. Winslow Schott Jr., who had a crush on Kara, but hid it carefully. Who had unfortunate family connections. Who Kara trusted.

He stayed with her, speaking to her softly, telling her it would be okay, that Kara would be okay, until sleep took her.

Clark filed into the empty conference room they were using as a transport site, and somehow wasn’t surprised to see Kara pull Cat into a hug.

“We did it,” Kara whispered.

“You did it,” Cat replied.

He watched as Kara pulled away from the hug and he immediately recognized the look on her face. He’d seen it before. On Diana’s face when she looked at a photo of Steve Trevor, on Bruce’s face any time Selina was in his line of sight. On Lois’ face when she looked at him. On Alex’s face every time she looked at the short, dimpled woman standing next to her. What really surprised him, hit him like one of Darkseid’s punches in fact, was seeing that same look reflected back in Cat’s face.

“Supergirl,” he said. “Why don’t we fly back?”

She looked over at him, the smile still on her face. “Sure, if President Marsdin doesn’t mind.”

Clark looked at Olivia and she gave a small shrug. “I’ve got things to take care of at the DEO,” she said, “but Supergirl and I do need to talk before I head back to Washington.”

“We won’t be long,” Clark said as he started towards the door. “Come on, cousin. I’ll show you how to fly like a pro.”

“Oh, please, just try and keep up with me.”

Kara took off, and he followed her, chasing her up the stairs as a speed that would not have been unmanageable for, say, Usain Bolt on level ground, and only slowing down so Kara could punch in the security code on the roof access door.

“How are you doing?” asked as they stepped out onto the roof.

“I’m good,” Kara said. “I just wish you and Bruce had made more progress on the Cadmus situation. Maybe Leslie wouldn’t have been attacked.”

“I’m sorry,” Clark said, guilt suddenly gnawing at him as he realized how much she’d asked him to do that he hadn’t done. “Bruce checked all the locations you gave us, but nothing was active. He’d planned to follow up, but he and his crew have been busy trying to run down the last of the Parliament of Owls, Diana has been dealing with some little godling trying to start a human sacrifice cult using trafficking victims as sacrifices, and I’ve been-“

“I know,” Kara said, cutting him off before he could start rambling about all the little surprises Lex had hidden before he went to jail. “I do read Lois’s articles. Not the rest of the Planet, because it’s trash, but Lois’ stuff is good.”

Clark gave her a good-natured glare, the teasing tone she had taking any real sting out of her words and making him wish they had grown up together. He reached out and gave her a small shove as he tried not to imagine what growing up with her as his big sister would have been like.

“Jerk,” she said, no heat in her words at all

“Race you to the DEO,” Clark replied.

“Loser,” Kara said as she shot into the air with a speed and confidence that surprised him. She rolled over as she rose, so she could look back at him, and because she did, she never saw it, and even for a Kryptonian, the whole thing happened too fast for him to react. The missile slammed into her head before he was more than ten feet off the roof, and the force of the explosion was enough to drive him down into the helipad.

He was up again in an instant, going over the side of the building and chasing Kara’s falling body to the ground. He tapped the DEO earbud he was wearing as he touched down.

“Supergirl is down. Say again, Supergirl is down and in need of medical attention.”

“Kal, what’s going on?” Alex’s voice demanded over the com link.

“Someone shot her with a missile. She’s unconscious and bleeding.” He knelt down and lifted her into his arms, kicking off and shooting into the sky just as fast as he could.

“I’m taking her to the Fortress,” he said.

“Negative,” Alex replied. “Hold position and prepare for a transmat.”

Clark cursed himself for not thinking of that sooner as he came to a complete stop. A moment later, light surrounded him as the transmat plucked him out of the sky.

Alex slipped her hand into Maggie’s as they waited for the transmat to engage. She couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her lips when she felt Maggie give her hand a gentle squeeze. She glanced over at Maggie and saw a matching smile on her face that made her heart skip a beat.

She didn’t understand this. Not really. She’d tried dating before, and never liked it. Had never really wanted to date, except she knew her mother and her sister thought she should. Except all the pressure on that point had suddenly vanished from Kara right around the time Kara had taken over her old apartment. She hadn’t understood it at the time, though it made sense now. More so, with what Kara had told her about the other timeline.

Now she just worried she was going to mess this up, that it was happening before it was supposed to, and she wasn’t ready. Except that when she looked at Maggie, she couldn’t imagine not being ready for this. She’d known the woman for all of three weeks, been out with her maybe a dozen times including the night of the concert where they’d kissed for the first time, and somehow the idea of marriage, old age and lots of little bad-ass kids didn’t scare her in the slightest. Not if it was with Maggie.

Something must have tipped Maggie off to the depth of Alex’s thoughts, because Maggie gave her a questioning look, but Alex just shook her head as the room filled with the light and hum of the transmat. Just like that, they were back at the DEO, and Alex looked around to see Susan looking relieved.

“Directed J’onzz,” Susan said. “Welcome back. And congratulations.”

“Thank you, Agent Vasquez,” J’onn said. “I trust everything is in order?”

“Yes sir, I-”

Clark’s voice cut through the room. “Supergirl is down. Say again, Supergirl is down and in need of medical attention.”

Alex felt her heart slam inside her chest with the same mind-numbing panic she’d felt earlier in the day when Konex told her Maggie’d been shot, and the same desperate need to get to Kara, but this time, she had to step on it. She reached up and hit her earbud, dropping herself into the com loop. “Kal, what’s going on,” she asked, swallowing a sudden urge to be sick.

“Someone shot her with a missile. She’s unconscious and bleeding,” Clark replied. “I’m taking her to the Fortress.”

“Negative,” Alex said, wondering if Clark had been hit too. Even at his best speed, the Fortress was almost an hour’s flight. She wanted to tell him to bring Supergirl here, but after what happened the previous week with General Lane, she didn’t trust the DEO to be secure. That really only left one place. “Hold position and prepare for a transmat.”

Alex reached for her phone, and dialed Konex.

“Lady Alex,” Konex said. “I have been monitoring. Kolex is preparing Sanctuary’s medlab as we speak.”

“Good, transmat them both. Then me.”

“I am coming as well,” Astra said.

Alex looked over at her and nodded. She glanced over to Maggie, about to apologize, but realized she didn’t need to when Maggie just mouthed a soundless ‘go’.

“Myself and Astra, Konex,” Alex said.

“Understood,” Konex replied.

The room disappeared in a flash of light, and Alex found herself standing in the middle of a brightly-lit room next to Astra. Clark was standing a few feet away, next to a crystal chamber, and Alex could see Kara inside. One of the robots, Kolex, she guessed, was using some sort of beam to cut away Kara’s suit.

“Report,” Alex said as she approached.

“Lady Kara has sustained massive trauma to the head and neck.”

The words hit Alex like a bucket of ice water, making her skin burn and her heart race. “How is that possible?” she asked.

“The explosive was loaded with a self-forging Thanagarian Nth Metal projectile. While Nth Metal does not negate Lady Kara’s abilities like Kryptonite, its meta-dimensional properties do make Kryptonians more vulnerable to weapons forged from it. Given the size of the projectile, and the force of the explosion, I must admit, I am at somewhat of a loss to understand how Lady Kara survived it. Every reconstruction I run of the blast indicates that the projectile should have been sufficient to decapitate her.”

“I can answer that,” a voice said from behind them. Alex, Astra and Clark all jumped slightly, then turned towards the voice.

“Lady Alex, should I initiate intruder protocols?” Kolex asked.

“No,” Alex said as she looked at Zatanna. “How did you get in here?”

“Who is this?” Astra asked.

“Zatanna,” Clark said. “She’s a friend.”

“After I left you and your Detective, I went back home,” Zatanna said, “but the night I met Kara, I worked a bit of magic on her. Protective spells. Such workings leave a connection. Normally, I wouldn’t notice their activation, but what your robot there calls meta-dimensional properties is magic, and Nth metal is lousy with it. When the Nth metal hit the anti-magic ward I burned into Kara’s soul, it was like a gong being sounded.”

“You burned a ward into her soul?” Alex said, the image making her want to reach out and wrap her hands around Zatanna’s neck.

“At her request,” Zatanna said. “I promise, it is not so violent a process as it sounds, but we have no time to discuss it now. Kara needs aid, and I can provide it.”

Clark stepped back, clearing the way, but Astra laid a hand on Alex’s forearm.

“Do you trust her?” Astra asked.

Alex looked back at Kara for a moment, then to Zatanna. Every instinct in her told her to say no. Taking care of Kara was her job, and no one else’s. But Nth Metal was something the DEO was only vaguely aware of. A material on their ‘to be acquired for study’ list. She needed to help Kara, but she didn’t know how, and Zatanna apparently did. Clark trusted her, but more than that, when Alex had needed help, Kara had called Zatanna. Alex knew Kara well enough to know exactly what that meant. Kara trusted Zatanna with something she valued more than her own life. The lives of people she loved. Alex nodded.

“Yes,” Alex said, stepping aside. “Absolutely.”

Astra moved out the way, and Zatanna stepped forward, speaking in words Alex did not recognize.

Eliza sat on Kara’s couch, unable to put into words how she felt. She’d arrived in town angry, confused and afraid. Angry because she had worked so hard to keep Kara safe, but Kara was out there in a cape, risking her life. Confused, because she was so incredibly proud of what her adopted daughter had accomplished in just a few weeks. Afraid, because she knew this moment would inevitably come.

She had known Clark since before Superman had appeared in the sky above Metropolis. She and Jeremiah had met him before he’d traveled north and built his fortress and come into a full understanding of his heritage. She’s seen what putting on that cape had cost Clark, and she never wanted that for Kara or Alex.

“She’ll be fine,” Lois said.

The words, spoken without preamble, made Eliza jump. She’d forgotten anyone was there with her.

“Sorry,” Lois said. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I’ve been here before. It’s scary. Hell, it’s terrifying. But she’ll be okay.”

“She never got any pie,” Eliza said, and somehow that suddenly seemed important. “She loves Thanksgiving, because I always make her favorite pie. Chocolate Pecan. There were four this year, but I didn’t make them. And she got called away before she could have any.”

Lois slipped an arm around her shoulders. “She’ll have them when she gets home, I promise.”

The first sob surprised her. She tried to hold the second one in, but the dam was already cracked, and it was only moments before she broke.

Lillian hit the power button on the remote, silencing the TV before she dropped the remote on the table and turned to face the two men sitting across the table from her.

“You said your missile would kill her,” Lillian said.

“It should have,” General Lane said. “Everything we know about them said that they were vulnerable to Nth Metal.”

“Well, maybe you should have used more of it,” Lillian said.

“We used our entire supply, which was three times our best estimate on what it would take to kill one of them. Besides, it’s not like your plan worked any better. Now they know about Henshaw.”

“I did notice that,” Lillian said. “The question is, how?”

“The Willis woman, obviously,” Lane said.

“But that should have just cast suspicion on the Martian,” Lillian said. “You didn’t say anything to Lucy, did you?”

“Of course not,” Lane said.

“It’s strange how every time a Kryptonian shows up, one of your daughters can’t seem to hop into bed with them fast enough.”

“Now just a god-damned minute-”

“Both of you shut up,” said the third person at the table.

Lillian turned to face the blonde man sitting next to Lane. “Something to add, Simon?” Lillian asked.

“All of us failed today,” Simon Tycho said. “Your little frame job, Lane’s missile, Miranda’s PR campaign, and that little bitch buying our companies out from under us. I don’t know how, but Supergirl has been one step ahead of us since the day she showed up. Longer, if I had to guess.”

“Agreed,” Lillian said. “The question is, how?”

“I don’t know,” Tycho said. “But I just got word. Corben’s body has been retrieved, and he’s still viable.”

“What about the Kryptonite?” Lillian asked.

“The stockpiles allocated to us are enough for one power unit,” Lane said.

“Excellent,” Lillian said.

“How long will the actual conversion take?” Tycho asked.

“Eight, maybe nine hours,” Lillian said.

“Then,” Tycho said, “when either of our Kryptonian friends show up, we’ll introduce them to project Metallo.”

“And what if the report from McGill is accurate, and Supergirl is immune to Kryptonite?” Lillian asked.

“We could have Henshaw standing by as backup,” Tycho said.

“I’m still not convinced that will be sufficient,” Lillian said. “If I could just get access to one of Lex’s store houses…”

“Without your daughter’s cooperation, I don’t see that as a possibility,” Tycho said. “And with offical support for Cadmus withdrawn, we don’t have the option of waiting for her to come around.”

Lillian let out a sigh and reluctantly nodded her head in agreement. “We’ll proceed then.”

And if it failed, well, Simon Tycho would make an excellent scapegoat.

Bruce picked up the phone without even bothering to check the caller ID. There was no need. He already knew who it would be.

“We’re loading now,” he said.

“I’m on my way to the airport,” Diana said. “Who are you bringing?”

“Everyone,” Bruce said. “This is our fault.”

“We couldn’t know it was this critical,” Diana said.

“We should have,” Bruce said. “She asked for help, and we barely made an effort.”

“You’re right. We never should have waited so long to make Cadmus a focus,” Diana said.

“We were both worried about going up against the US Government, and what that could mean,” Bruce said.

“I know,” Diana said. “I was there for those conversations.”

“I’ve contacted Victor. He’s already working it.”

“Should we call in the Lanterns?” Diana asked.

“I’m hesitant,” Bruce said.

“Why?” Diana asked.

“I don’t think Kara trusts them,” Bruce said.

“Do you know why?”

“No.”

Diana was silent for a moment, thinking. “Okay. Leave them out for now. We’ll see how big this is first.”

Sara dropped on to her bunk, wondering not for the first time what she was still doing here. She kept telling herself it was about Darhk, about killing him before he killed Laurel, but that excuse was starting to wear thin, even to her. She could try telling herself it was about Jax. He was special. The little brother she never knew she wanted, who she definitely didn't trust Rip Fucking Hunter to protect. That excuse was almost as thin as Darhk. Both were true, but neither one filled the gaping hole in her heart where her sister once lived, anymore than the women she took to bed filled the chasm Nyssa left when she picked a League prison cell over a future with Sara.

She felt lost. She'd felt lost since the Queen’s Gambit had gone down, which, not counting time spent being dead, was over nine years by her personal timeline.

Nyssa had been a balm on those wounds, but however much she loved Nyssa, she knew the relationship was poison. Too many things were pulling them in too many different directions and trying to hold on to each other only ended up hurting them both.

She wanted to go home. She wanted it so much. But home was mom and dad and Laurel, and Laurel was dead, and mom was gone, and dad came with Oliver and all of his baggage, which meant daily reminders that she'd been off galivanting around the time stream when Damien Darhk had been driving an arrow into her sister's gut.

She thought about Central City. She didn't know Barry and his team well, so there wasn't anything to make it a better option than the Waverider.

Well, it would make it harder to run away from her own mistakes. She wasn't sure if that would be better or worse, but she suspected it would be better. After all, she'd been running from a single mistake for every day of those nine years since she stepped onto the Queen's Gambit.

She just couldn't shake the feeling that there was something out there she was running to. Something, or someone. She could feel her. Sometimes, in her dreams, she could see her. Only pieces, but pieces that made her heart ache. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. A smile that shone like the sun and held a bottomless well of sadness and grief. Sometimes dressing in the angry red of fresh spilled blood, sometimes in something as blue as the sky of a new promise-filled day, sometimes in purple the color of a lover's kiss bruised lips, but more commonly in simple utilitarian black, splashed with red above her right breast forming a symbol of strength, unity and hope.

The dreams had started after she returned to Nanda Parbat. When Ra's had asked her to return to Starling City to search for Merlin, she'd felt the pull of those dreams. Nyssa had called it the voice of fate. Gideon called it trans-temporal memory. Whatever it was, the woman felt closer. Like she was rushing at Sara.

No. That was wrong. She didn't know why, but suddenly and violently she knew whoever she was, she wasn't rushing, she was falling, and no one was there to catch her.

Sara sat up, clutching her chest, unable to breathe because whoever she was, she shouldn't fall. Because the very idea of her falling was wrong, and the wrongness and the stark terror it inspired crushed down on Sara like a boot on her chest.

"Gideon," she cried desperately, "sound the collision alarm!"

She knew. She didn't know how, but she knew, and she was on her feet, headed for the bridge.

"Ms. Lance?" Gideon asked.

"Just do it!" Sara yelled as she ran, racing past memories she hadn't lived, past ghosts of dear friends she'd never met, selves she'd never been, and futures dead and gone. For one moment in the sea of time, she wasn't just Sara Lance, she was Sara Lance, Ta-er al-Asfer, The Canary, The White Canary, Captain Sara Lance, Detective Lance, Sara Danvers-Lance, Inmate 65628314159, Sara Lance-Sharp, Sara Queen, The White Arrow, Sara Lance-Smoak, Sara al Ghul, Ra's al Ghul, The Starling, The Wife of the Demon, The Magician, Al Sāḥir, Lady Cold, the Fury Queen, the Death Witch and a thousand others. Good, evil, whole, broken, caring and indifferent. She was all the iterations of herself in every branch of every timeline in the multiverse wrapped up in one singular purpose.

The Sara who was all Saras dropped into the pilot’s chair and slammed down the harness as the collision alarm finally sounded. Too late. Gideon was too late. But the Saras weren't. Their hands closed on the controls with a surety born of lifetimes beyond counting spent in that chair and against all logic, against all reason, they turned the Waverider towards the temporal shockwave and opened the throttle all the way up, racing death to the Vanishing Point.

Notes:  

Thus ends the first story in the Future Shock Series.

I want to thank everyone who has read this story, and especially everyone who's commented or sent me messages on tumblr encouraging me, or telling me they like it, or they love it, or they are going to drive to Florida and murder me with tar covered flaming pitchforks.

The Future Shock Series will continue with the sequel, Devils In The Dark, which will start posting Saturday, September 1st.

[filmfanatic82]

The Long Game - Chapter 8: Sparks

AO3 Link (HERE)

Chapter 8: Sparks

Three drinks in and still no one’s talking. All five of them just sit in their designated spots around the fire, watching the flames dance against the night sky, drowning their thoughts with their preferred beverage of choice.

Kim swirls the ice cubes in her plastic tumbler of whiskey with a gentle flick of the wrist and lets out a subtle sigh. Part of her so desperately wants to simply rip the bandaid off and bare her soul. Share everything… every last detail that she’s been holding onto for the last eight years. Then, maybe the four people sitting around her, who she at one time considered her chosen family, would understand. Maybe even offer some level of basic forgiveness for her past sins.

But there’s the other part of Kim, the logical side of her, that knows better. Why jeopardize everything when she’s so close to it all being over with. Only a few more days. Then maybe -- just maybe -- there would be time for hope and forgiveness. Time to finally repair everything that’s been wrecked beyond recognition.

Or maybe there would be nothing on the other side. A strong possibility that Kim has slowly learned to come to terms with ever since that fated day back on the ship when she agreed to take this on. That there might not be a future… at least for her. That sacrifice -- in its truest definition -- might be the better word to describe the outcome of the events to come.

“Okay. This is freakin’ nuts,” Zack exclaims finally breaking the silence between the five of them. He polishes off the end of his beer, tosses it into the darken woods behind them, and then reaches for another. “Crazy Girl. You’re up first. What’ve you been doing in Sin City for the last few years?”

Trini shoots Zack daggers from across the circle as she takes a slow sip of her beer. “You know what I’ve been doing.”

“Very true, my pint-sized friend. But the rest of the group doesn’t. Inquiring minds want to know. Exactly how does one become a back up dancer for Britney Spears?” A mischievous, alcohol-fueled grin spreads across Zack’s face as Trini instantly grows bright red with embarrassment.

“Oh! You’re a Vegas performer too? I thought you were only a dealer at the Tropicana?” Billy lights up with excitement, blissfully unaware that Zack is simply trying to get a rise out of the small latina.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Trini grumbles at Zack. “No Billy, Zack’s being an ass. I’m just a casino dealer.”

“Which games?” Jason pipes up in between sips.

“Mainly blackjack, but sometimes I cover the poker tables too.”

“Did you major in it in college? Can you major in it? Or is it more like an apprenticeship?” Billy asks as the wheels in his mind start to turn.

“Didn’t go.”

“To college?” Kim asks trying to mask her sudden sense of shock.

Trini shakes her head and takes another long, much needed swig of her beer. “Nope. I was supposed to, but then my dad lost his job right after I graduated and my scholarship kinda fell through, so it wasn’t an option.”

Kim sits with this piece of information for a moment or two, as she subtly searching Trini’s face for more of an explanation. But there’s nothing there. Just Trini’s signature “I don’t give a fuck” mask.

“How about you, Kimmy? Where’d all your cash come from? You like some secret hitman or something?” Zack feeds another stick to the fire as all eyes turn towards Kim.

“Pass.” Kim runs her hands through her hair, tucking a few loose strands behind her ear and then let’s out a hard exhale of breath. “It’s not important.”

“Jason and I ended up going to Cal Tech together. We lived in the dorms our first two years, which was an quite interesting experience. Do you know that by state law colleges are only required to supply 2.5 bathroom stalls and showers per 40 students? Which, speaking from experience, is a grossly unbalanced bathroom to student ratio. There was this one time--”

“Billy...” Jason lovingly reaches over and lays his hand on Billy’s forearm as if this is something he does at least a hundred times a day.

“Right. Sorry. We lived there for two years, but then decided to move back here and commute since Jason got accepted into a clinical trial program at Angel Grove General for patients with nerve damage.” Billy offers up a bitter sweet smile in Jason’s direction. “It wasn’t as successful as we had hoped for but the doctors say it could take upwards of seven years before the full results of the protocol start to show.”

The sobering silence creeps back in between the five of them as they each attempt to focus in on their drinks in hand instead of the sudden awkwardness.

Kim’s eyes wander across the fire as she downs the rest of her whiskey and catches Jason staring directly back at her. His eyes are nothing short of two black abysses, devoid of anything except for pure, undiluted anger.

“Go on. Ask.” Jason’s voice cuts through the silence, never once taking his eyes off of Kim. “I know you want to.”

Kim pulls her eyes away and slightly shakes her head as her skin starts to crawl with tension. “Jase, I didn’t--”

“No. Go on. Seriously. Ask me about it. Go on and ask me what it’s like to only have 45% mobility in my arm. Or how I’ve got to down at least four different types of pain killers every morning just I can function. Or that some mornings I can’t even manage to put my own pants on without my husband’s help.”

“J, you promised--” Billy reaches over towards Jason in hopes of defusing the situation, but it’s of little use. Jason swats his arm away, still focused in on Kim.

“Or better yet. Ask me how it felt to have my so-called teammate and best friend suddenly up and turned against me mid-battle. Or how it felt to have my arm almost ripped from its socket at the hands of someone I considered to be like a sister. Or how it was to be left for dead with little to no explanation… no reason. Hell, you know what? You should ask Trini that one. Cause it was her throat you crushed, not mine.”

“Jason, stop it!” Trini shouts out with an odd, protective like tone to her voice. She jumps up to her feet and without another moment’s hesitation, positions herself slightly in front of Kim, like a tiny but fierce human shield. “You’ve got no fuckin’ right to speak for me.”

Kim fights with every ounce of control she has left within herself not to give in to the hot sting of tears that are quickly welling up in her eyes. It’s too much… All just too much for her to handle. The weight of the world has been on Kim’s shoulders for well over eight years now and suddenly, at this very moment in time, she can’t seem to do it anymore.

Kim quickly rises to her feet, adjusts her jacket, and then take a hard gulp of air. But it’s not enough. Her lungs scream for more as the overwhelming feeling of suffocation descends upon her. Kim needs to escape before she fully breaks.

“I’m sorry, I can’t…” Kim trails off as she stumbles to find her footing. She doesn’t wait for a response from any of the others. Kim heads straight for the nearby treeline, never once looking back.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Kimberly can’t move. She knows she needs to. The bell rang well over ten minutes ago, signifying the start of lunch, but yet Kimberly finds herself glued to the locker room bench, simply unable to will her limbs into motion.

All she can manage to do is stare at the wet pile of clothes balled up by her feet.

“Kimberly? Baby, you in here?” Trini’s voice echoes softly throughout the confines of the locker room, snapping Kimberly out of her trance-like state.

“Yeah,” Kimberly croaks out. “I’m here.”

“What are you still doin’ in--” Trini rounds the corner and immediately comes to a halt, fully taking in the scene before her.

Kimberly tenses up, suddenly cognizant of how this all might look to someone… especially someone like Trini. She’s sitting all alone in girls’ locker room, still in her gym clothes, while her regular clothes lay a few feet away, soaked beyond recognition with what looks to be some sort of cooking oil.

“I’m gonna kill Amanda and her basic ass bitches,” Trini says with a growl of anger.

“T, it’s fine.”

“Fine? They fuckin’ wrecked your clothes.”

“I know.” Kimberly tucks her hands beneath her thighs, shrinking inwards onto herself. “Usually they just use water.”

“Usually?”

Kimberly gives the slight nod of her head, unable to bring herself to look Trini in the eyes.

A silence seeps in between the two of them for a moment or two and then--

CLANG.

The familiar sound of metal being ripped off of its hinges fills air, instantly grabs Kim’s attention. She looks over towards the source of the sound to find Trini standing there, with the now ripped off door of gym locker in her hand.

“What are you doing?” Kim asks as confusion sweeps across her face.

But Trini doesn’t respond. She tosses the door aside and starts rummaging through the now open locker, searching for something. “Do you know, Naomi?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“She’s in my AP Cal and gym class. Nice girl. Wouldn’t call her a friend or anything, but we’ve talked a few times. She’s built like you and--” Trini surfaces from the locker with a heather grey t-shirt and skinny black jeans that are perfectly ripped in all the right places. She walks back over towards Kimberly and places the clothes down next to her on the bench. “She always has at least two sets of spare clothes in her gym locker.”

A warm smile spreads across Kimberly’s face as she examines the clothes more closely. Not exactly her style but that doesn’t matter. It’s the mere action itself. The way that, no matter what the situation, the fierce latina standing before her, is there for her. Somehow, always knowing how to fix the problem… even if it means simply being a shoulder to cry or a set of protective arms to help shield her from the pain.

And god, does Kimberly hope that this instinct within Trini is enough to allow them to make it through to the other side still some what intact…

“Trini, I can’t just walk around school in someone else’s clothes. What if she sees me?”

“Who says we’re going back to class?” Trini responds with one of her signature, cocky smirks. “Now c’mon and get dressed. We’ve got places to be, Princess.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“You want the last one?” Trini motions towards the lone strawberry iced donut sitting in the Krispy Kreme box.

“God no. I think I’m gonna be sick.” Kimberly leans back on the large boulder, folding her arms behind her head in the process. “All yours.”

Trini snatches up the last donut from the box, securing it firmly between her teeth, and then lays herself down next to Kimberly, resting her head on her girlfriend’s chest.

“You don’t know what you’re missing, Princess.” Trini mumbles, with a mouthful of donut.

Kimberly lets out a light chuckle as she lovingly starts to card her fingers through Trini’s ombre locks. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Trini had first taken Kimberly to the secret clearing in the woods only a few weeks after they had survived Rita’s attack on Angel Grove. It had been on one of the countless nights when neither one of them could sleep. Trini had just shown up at Kimberly’s window with a box of Krispy Kreme donuts and told her to get dressed with no other explanation as to where they were going. And four hours and half a dozen donuts later, the two of them had watched the sun rise together from ontop of a lone boulder that perfectly overlooked the quarry, no longer merely best friends, but girlfriends.

“Run away with me,” Kimberly blurts out in a rushed exhale of air, breaking the stillness between the two of them.

“Sure, Princess.”

“No, I mean it. Let’s run away. You and me.”

Trini pushes herself up off of Kimberly’s chest and turns around. “Baby, we can’t just up and run away.”

“Why not?”

“Why not? For starter, our families? And what about our Ranger duties? Jason would have a stroke if we just up and went missing. Hell, we’ve still got almost all of our senior year to get through.” Trini reaches over and takes hold of Kimberly’s hand giving it a loving squeeze. “Is this cause of today? Cause I can take care of Amanda and her--”

“No. It’s just… just… Nevermind. It was a stupid idea.” Kimberly focuses a smile but Trini isn’t buying it.

“Kimberly…”

“I’m fine.”

The small latina forcefully gives Kimberly a nudge, motioning for her to sit up. Then, without a single word exchanged, she positions herself between Kimberly’s legs, leaning back and tucking her head right into the space beneath the larger girl’s chin and chest. Like two perfectly designed puzzle pieces, they mold into each other with a comfort that’s rare to find between two individuals. There are simply no words to describe it. They are meant to be together.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything yet, but I think Billy and I found a way for us to swing college and not blow off our Ranger duties.”

“How?”

“Cal Tech. It’s like less than an hour away and isn’t insanely hard to get into. My folks probably won’t be able to afford the full tuition but I talked with Mr. Winters and he says that if I keep my GPA up, I’ll be a shoo-in for one of those minority based scholarship. We could really tick my folks off and get a dorm room together. They would totally shit a brick but it’ll be worth it. Think about it. No more sneaking into each other’s rooms at night.”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Kimberly’s lips as she takes a moment to think about a future that simply isn’t going to happen. For once, she’s utterly thankful that Trini is shorter than her and therefore by default is the little spoon. No way for her girlfriend to catch a glimpse of the emotions written on her face.

Kimberly wraps her arms a little bit tighter around Trini and plants a gentle kiss on her temple. “That sounds amazing.”

“Right?” Trini sighs, leaning further back into Kimberly’s body. “Absolutely amazing.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Knew I’d find you here,” Trini softly says, making her presence known as she emerges from the dense treeline, out into the secret clearly.

Kim straightens herself up a bit on the boulder, quickly wiping away all traces of tears from her eyes. “Sorry. I just needed to--”

“Escape?” Trini cuts Kim off as she makes her way onto the boulder, cautiously taking a seat as close as she can without actually making contact.

But it doesn’t matter. The mere proximity of Trini sends a set of familiar chills down Kim’s spine as her heart picks up the pace. God, how she just wants to wrap her arms around the girl that she once thought would be her forever and never let her go.

“More or less.” Kim lets out a hard sigh and runs her hands through her hair, trying to shake off some of her insecurities. “At least it went slightly better than I thought it would.”

“Better?”

“Yeah. I was expecting to get decked again.”

Trini can’t help but chuckle at this response. “Sorry about that.”

“Why? I deserved it.”

“Can’t argue with that one, Princess.”

The two sit side by side for a moment, just looking out onto the quarry below as the muffled sounds of the boys laughing echo from the nearby bonfire. Then--

“You know for the longest time I had this voicemail from you that I randomly saved on my phone. It was nothing important. Just one of those meaningless but cute messages you used to leave me. Think it might’ve been right after you got out of your last Saturday detention cause you mentioned us going to celebrate at Krispy Kreme.”

“I remember that,” Kim quietly states as the memory of the day suddenly washed back over her. “You were at your cousin’s christening and forgot to silence your phone. So when I called--”

“I Wanna Dance with Somebody blasted throughout the church right as the priest had asked for everyone to pray. And it was the Glee version too. The one where they swapped the pronouns. God, I’ll never forget the shit ton of questions I got from my relatives for that one.”

“In my defense, you loved it when I used to sing it to you.”

Trini lets out a lightly laugh and lounges back on her forearms, letting her eyes wander upwards towards the night sky. “I played that voicemail almost ten times a day for the the first six months after you left. Dunno why. Guess I just needed to hear you. The you I remembered. Not the one who did…” Trini trails off as she fights back tears.

“Who did this?” Kim asks as her hand carefully reaches out to touch the faint line of scars on the right side of Trini’s neck. They descend downwards from behind her ear and across her neck, like an intricate spider’s web, still noticeable up close even through the layer of foundation that Trini puts on to mask them to the outside world.

Kim braces for Trini to pull away as her fingers connect with the smaller girl’s skin, but much her surprise, Trini does the exact opposite. Trini leans into Kim’s touch, releasing an ever so subtle exhale of breath. She closes her eyes and swallows hard as a lone tear escapes from the corner of her eye.

“I knew deep down inside that I was gonna have to see you again. I mean it was bound to happen, right? We’re still technically Rangers.” Trini reaches into her pocket and pulls out her yellow power coin. It’s pale amber gem shimmers in the moonlight with what looks to be the tiniest hints of sparks firing off  Almost electric. Like it’s only moments away from coming to life. “But I never thought it would be this hard.”

“Trini, I’m so sorr--” But before Kim can finish her words, she’s interrupted by a set of all too familiar lips upon her own. The kiss is cautious but laced with almost a decade’s worth of unfulfilled desire. Almost testing the waters to see if it feels right.

Kim instinctually snakes her hands into the smaller latina’s hair, as the mutual cautiousness slowly slips away with each and every passing second. She pulls Trini in closer, taking control of the kiss. And Trini more than let her.

Kim’s lips speak in ways that her words simply can’t, pouring out all of her emotions. Desire. Longing. Passion. Love. Regret. Remorse. Guilt. Each one raw and uncensored. Each one there for Trini to do with as she sees fit.

And Trini’s lips answer, with her own set of conflicted emotions. Each one just as powerful as Kim’s. She cups Kim’s jaw with her hands as her fingers gently trace against skin.

The world around them seems to melt away, as Kim gets lost within Trini’s lips. She knows that it might be too much, too soon. That there is so much more for them to sort through with each other, but in that singular moment, Kim doesn’t care. She fully gives into her impulsive desires.

They linger for a moment or two in the kiss neither one wanting it to ever come to an end. Then, suddenly--

“Holy shit!” Zack’s voice echoes from the nearby bonfire in a burst of drunken excitement.

Both Trini and Kim pull out of the kiss, heads shooting back towards the location of the bonfire in utter confusion.

“What’s going--”

“Kim!” Trini exclaims with the same level of excitement as Zack’s voice. “Your arm!”

Kim’s eyes shoot downward to her left arm and discovers that it’s--

SHIMMERING WITH FLECK OF METALLIC PINK.

An ear to ear grin rapidly spreads across her face as she checks out her arm in the moonlight. “T, do you think…”

But Kim doesn’t need to finish her sentence. Trini holds up her arm up against Kim’s, proudly displays the same shimmering metallic fleck but in her own trademark yellow. “Mine too, Princess.”  

[mytigernacho]

Guardians.

A Noblesse Fanfic.

The world accelerates when there is danger. Or perhaps it is you who is moving in slow motion. No details register. No bigger picture is seen. Everything moves past your eyes so quickly, and you try to move, try to help, try to save. But no matter how hard you try, you are not fast enough.

Iel did not dream – she did not even sleep – but she had spent many days and nights among humans, and had heard them speak of their dreams, their nightmares. Like many aspects of human culture, it had fascinated her how a large number of humans, from a wide variety of places, dreamt of not being fast enough.

For the first time, she felt like she could relate.

"Go," she said, her voice full of confidence that she did not feel. She wanted to run and hide. She wanted to mourn. She wanted to cry and hug each one of them. She wished she could tell them that they had nothing to fear and that they need not cry. They were only children, after all. But that was not her job. Right now, her job was to project the authority of the Royal Family. She looked at the only adult in the group, the Elder, who had served her and her family for millennia. "Take care of them," she instructed. The Elder nodded and bowed. "You have provided a valuable service to my family." The children would think she was referring to the order the Elder was carrying out now, but the Elder was wise. She would know that Iel was saying farewell.

Iel smiled encouragingly as the scared little faces disappeared into the cavern underneath the palace. She waited a few moments, feeling their energies retreat to a safe distance, then slammed her palms onto the ice at the entrance, causing it to collapse. She did not want anyone to discover the escape route.

She leapt over a body (her sister, someone she had grown up with and she had been so strong, but there had been too many of them) into the sky and looked down at the icy glacier that was her homeland.

The once-magnificent island had been destroyed. Large portions of the ice had been fractured from the main body, and much more had entered into the air around them, heated to the extreme by the energy of the attacks. The beautiful blue-white of the ice had been stained red.

So many dead.

And so many enemies filled the battleground around her.

But someone had to buy the others time. And she was the only Guardian able to fight. She would die here, like her sisters, like her mother and father. But by dying she might perhaps save the children, and all that was left of her people.  

The enemy was on her tail. She continued her flight through the air, leading them away from the children. With any luck they would think her urgency and direction was simply an escape attempt, not a distraction.

She hesitated. Should she lead them completely away from the glacier? Or stay within its boundaries?

The decision was made for her. At the far end of the glacier she descended to the ground. They were in front of her now, as well as behind. She wouldn't be able to fight her way through them.

They circled around her, claws and teeth bared. They were confident. There was over a hundred of them left. And only one of her.

She prepared to die.

A single werewolf walked toward her, entering into the rough circle the others had formed around her. He was quite large, with shaggy brown fur and grey eyes. And sharp claws dyed red. He dropped his transformation as he entered, arms spread slightly.

Iel did not move. Not even an ear twitched. The tension of battle did not leave her.

"Surrender," he commanded in a common tongue. "If you do so, my people will not harm you. You will live."

Iel did not take her eyes off of him. Really?

She would live?

But it couldn't be that easy. Right?

"And if I do surrender, what will you do to me?" She hated how her voice shook.

"Does it matter? You will be alive."

What an… evasive answer. Her mother used to speak like that. As did Murion. And then he had betrayed them all. Her eyes began to sting with unshed tears as she thought of all those who had died.

Her people feared death. They had no undying part. When they died, their energy became other energy, and they were no more.

Iel was no different from her people. Death scared her.

She straightened, tension leaving her. She smiled at the werewolf and walked toward him, until there was only a few feet between them.

Her head bowed. Her ears flattened against her skull. Her eyes closed.

And she summoned all eight of her tails.

She pulled energy out of the air, steam solidifying and raining down as ice as she did so. The energy glowed black, the same color as her fur, as she forced the energy through the body of the werewolf in front of her. He was their leader. He should take responsibility for his actions.

The enraged roars of the werewolves around her meant nothing. They would all die soon enough. She no longer felt she had anything to lose.

For it was no longer her own death that scared her. Her own death meant nothing, nothing, compared to the death that surrounded her. Her own fear meant nothing compared to the fear her entire people had felt as they died.

There were still so many of them, too many for her to fight individually. She would have to take them out with one attack. Normally she would not have been able to do this. Her smile widened. It was incredible how your options increased when you know longer have to take into account your own life. She threw up a spherical barrier of her own energy around her.

She began gathering every last drop of energy she could. And then she kept gathering. It was suicide of course. Their bodies could not handle it. Or perhaps it was a way to deter the greedy. But everyone knew, from the time they were children, that when a kitsune gathered more power than they could maintain control over, the power leaves the body with an explosive force.

She could feel the power building, trying to escape, but she held on. The more power she could gather, the larger the explosion would be. She could feel the attacks hitting her barrier, but it held.

Pain began building in her head, her back. Twinges at first, but quickly growing. It was making it hard to concentrate.

She fell to one knee, gasping as the energy felt like a hot ball of fire within her body. It burned so badly. She cried out. But she did not release it, not yet. Not yet.

As the pain became unbearable, setting each one of her nerves on fire, she relented. With a scream she allowed the energy to flow out of her to her surroundings. The resulting explosion was blinding white.

She could not see. She could feel herself growing cold, falling, sinking.

Dying.

This is what she'd been afraid of?

She almost laughed at herself.

[all-things-james-barnes]

Trapped

Everything went wrong. The plan that had been discussed fell to pieces the moment you had arrived. The enemy intel that you had been given had been incorrect. To top it off, you were trapped in the rubble of a building, with the one person you hated the most. James. Buchannan. Barnes.

“Load up team!” Steve announced. You had just shrugged over your mission jacket, the last part of what you liked to call your very own ‘super suit.’ While the rest of the team had their own style, you liked your combat boots, black cargo pants, and your favorite black jacket. You had it specially made to fit you perfectly and added lots of spaces to hide knives and guns inside. Some of the team had laughed at your outfit the first time, asking where all the weapons were, until you pulled out two guns, eight knives, two daggers, a lighter, and four mini explosive devices.

“Shotgun!” you called as you walked to the jet.

“No fair! You always get to ride shotgun!” Clint complained loudly as he followed behind you.

“Gotta be quicker next time old man,” you sniggered as you took your seat up front.

“You only get it ‘cause the Captain likes you best,” Clint huffed.

“Perks of having Rogers as your best friend,” you said with a grin.

You turned the seat around, and sunk down in the seat to play on your phone while everyone else began to board. You were too occupied with beating your current high score on Candy Crush, that you jumped when someone tried to turn your seat. The sudden movement caused you to move the wrong piece, screwing up your chances of beating your high score.

“What the hell!” you yelled at the person who turned you. You found yourself making a disgusted face at none other than James Barnes.

“Why are you here?” he said obviously irritated at you already. He was dressed for the mission, black mission suit, combat boots, a gun at his hip, and probably several knives stashed in his pockets. His hair was combed back, because he had finally cut the hobo mop of hair he had on his head off. Although it was still a bit long, you could still make fun of it. When he had cut it you had said, “Oh great, at least you’ll see yourself being stupid next time.”

“Why do you think genius? I’m going on the mission, duh,” you responded, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your skull.

“You’re in my seat,” he grumbled, rolling his head around like it was obvious that you were taking up his precious seat.

“Called shotgun, get in the back with the rest of the team,” you replied coldly, turning back around to play your game again. He huffed but you heard him reluctantly move to take a seat in the back. A moment later, Steve came and took his seat in the pilot’s chair.

“You know if you guys actually talked, you probably wouldn’t hate each other,” he said quietly as he began to switch on the controls.

“If we talked, I’d accidently murder him because he would piss me off,” you responded and you went through the preflight checklist with Steve.

“I’m just saying, you both have more in common than you realize,” Steve said, and he turned on the engines. You didn’t respond, thinking that the day you and James Barnes would ever have anything in common, was the day the world would end. Nothing could ever make you want anything to do with him. Ever.

You landed on the ground an couple hours later. The cover of night shielded you all as you came towards the main building. You could hear the sounds of guards in the distance, making their rounds around the compound. Natasha had gone ahead of the group and was doing her job of securing an entrance in the compound. As you pulled around to the meeting point, the back door swung open. A man fell over and out from the inside, but Natasha stood just inside rechecking her gadgets.

“Thanks Romanoff,” Steve said as he walked in.

“Child’s play Rogers,” she smirked and followed behind him.

You were about to head inside, until Barnes shoved past you to get inside first. “Asshole,” you hissed. He just glared back at you before continuing inside. You were mentally plotting a way to put Nair in his shampoo when you got back as you moved forward and proceeded to follow the rest of the group.

As you went up the stairs, everything was quiet, and it made you uneasy. For something so heavily protected on the outside, the inside seemed to empty. You made it to the sixth and final floor before everything went wrong. As the last of you entered the room, the door slammed closed an locked behind you. The door across opened and dozens of armed soldiers started to flood in. Each of you immediantly jumped into action.

You dove behind a desk and started firing at the neverending stream of enemy agents. Once you ran out of ammo, you moved to gain a better position to fight hand to hand combat and not get overwhelmed. Unfortunately for you, you didn’t see one coming behind you. They grabbed you and even though you spun around to get away they managed to catch you and fling you into another teamate nearby.

You landed on top of them with a thud. Just my luck, you thought. You had landed on top of James Barnes and were painfully aware of how close your faces were to each other. “Are you okay?” he asked, he voiced filled with something that you could only describe as actual concern.

“Fine,” you said as you rolled off, trying to avoid gettting knocked down again. He moved away, but beyond that, you didn’t pay attention or even care what he was doing. You were doing the best you could fighting off as best you could while the others did the same.

“Get down!” you heard Clint yell. You turned to see one of the assailants had thrown a bomb of some sort and it was heading right towards you.

Bucky saw it in slow motion. Everyone dove for cover except you. You seemed frozen on the spot, and Bucky wanted to scream at you to take cover but he couldn’t. He knew if you didn’t move right that second, you were as good as dead.

“Fuck,” he swore, before leaping out to cover you. The device detonated as his body collided into yours, shielding you from the blast. The floor gave way, and you felt yourself falling, and then nothing but darkness.

Pain, the first thing you felt was searing pain in your leg. You groaned, as you tried to open your eyes. Everything was dark, and the air was full of dust and dirt. You started coughing but each movement only brought flashes of pain into your leg.

You bit you lip in pain as you tried to move around enough to get the light from your jacket pocket. By this point, hot tears mixed in with the sweat on your face. You held back each whimper the best you could until you were finally able to get your light. You turned it on, and found yourself in a nightmare. You were tapped underground, in the rubble of the building.

You heard movement from the beside you and turned slowly to ease the amount of pain you felt, to find James Barnes groaning as he pulled himself up on his hands and knees. You were almost releaved to find that you weren’t alone done here. Almost. Almost because it was James Barnes.

You turned away to take in your surroudings. You managed to get trapped in a small pocket of the rubble. It was only a few feet around. Just enough for the two of you to move around.

“Barnes,” you whispered. Your voice sounded weak, and cracked. “James,” you said a little lounder this time, saying it through gritted teeth. You shined the light in his direction, and he turned towards you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Fuck no,” you growled, the pain in your leg growing as your senses came back to you. You shined the light down at your leg, and the blood drained from your face. You had a piece of metal going straight through your thigh. You started to panic, shock coming onto you.

“Ja…Ja.. James…James…I ugh…I think…I’m going into sh…sh…shock,” you stuttered out. He crawled over to you, trying his best not move you.

“Hey, hey, (Y/N), look at me okay. Look at me,” he said, his voice somehow even. You turned to look at him, his face ghostly in the dim light.

“You’re going to be okay. You hear me, you’re going to be okay.” You nodded, feeling scared and in pain.

He looked down at your wound, which you could feel oozing blood. At least the metal stayed in your leg. You might not lose it. He pressed gently around, casuing you to hiss and groan at his prodding. He pulled off his jacket and then ripped sleeves off of his shirt. He ripped a whole in the jacket, big enough to put around the metal.

“This is going to hurt,” he said softly. You knew what was going to happen so you brought your jacket sleeve to your mouth and bit down. You nodded, your breathing already starting to pick up in preparation for the pain your were about to feel. You shut your eyes and screamed. They were muffled as he tightend the straps of clothe around your leg. You screamed, and cursed and felt like you were going to pass out. Your heart was beating out of control.

“There done,” he said and pulled his hands away quickly. You kept your jacket in your mouth as you slowly called back down. You finally calmed down enough to let go. You looked at James, who was watching you with concern.

“Thanks,” you said raggedly.

He half smiled, “I think that’s the first time you’ve actually thanked me.”

“I almost wish I wasn’t thanking you for wrapping up my metal impaled leg,” you said through the pain you felt. The blood loss was making you nice to him. You shivered, realizing how cold it was becoming in the rubble. The concrete was sucking all the heat from you both.

“You need to stay warm,” James said. He moved closer to you, laying beside you to keep you somewhat warm. You rolled your eyes and moved up to lay on him. He stiffened, but then let his flesh arm wrap around you, holding you, sharing the small amount of body heat you had.

“Don’t get any ideas,” you muttered, relishing in his warmth. You never realized how warm he was. He was practically a human space heater. You turned off the light, saving it in case you heard anyone coming for you both.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I’m the last person you would want here.”

“You are, but you’re a human heater so I’m glad you’re here,” you replied.

He stayed quiet and you weren't sure how long the silence lasted. It could have been a few minutes, or a few hours for all you knew. “Why do you hate me?” you asked breaking the silence.

“I don’t. Why do you hate me?” he asked.

“I, uh, you know I don’t actually know. You’re just such an ass that I had to hate you,” you explained. It was true. From the first moment you had met him, he seemed to just insult you or be so sarcastic that you just couldn’t and wouldn’t even try and be friends with him.

“It was uh, my way of dealing I guess. Eveyone else, except Steve, just kinda took it I guess. You’re uh, the only person I guess who took it as an offense,” he fumbled out.

“I don’t take shit from people, I took enough when I was young,” you mumbled. He stayed quiet again, but this time not as long. “Rough childhood?” he asked.

You were hesisant for a moment, but you were also stuck down here with him. Steve said you should talk to him, so here was a chance. “Mum left when I was 5. I don’t really remember her, but I remember her always telling me I had her eyes. She said when she looked at me, she saw a younger version of herself. I, uh, I thought she loved me, but she didn’t. Dad turned into a drunk after she left. Usual abuse followed until I ran away. I, uh, I got caught stealing, then juvi, then cleaned up, got recruited. Now I’m here.”

You finished your story but he said nothing. You thought maybe you had dumped too much on him at one time. “I’m sorry. If I would have known, I wouldn’t have been so shitty to you.”

“Don’t apologize, we both know if we live, we’ll just go back to the way we were,” you grumbled.

“If we live, how about we hang out sometime, get to know each other so maybe we won't hate each other,” he offered.

“If we live, and I keep my leg, then we can hang out,” you teased.

You two sat there in the dark for who knows how long. Finally you heard something above you, but you were getting drowsy at this point. You were out, but remembered hearing something and seeing a bit of light before you were gone for good.

The next thing you knew, you were waking up, and you knew you had gotten out. You felt warm, covered in a blanket and the rhythmic beeping of a machine. You opened your eyes slowly and found yourself in the med bay of the tower. “You got to keep the leg by the way,” you turned to see James leaning agaisn the doorway.

You gave him a soft smile, “Guess you didn’t do such a crappy job then Barnes.”

“You can call me Bucky, everyone else does, and after what happened to us, I think you can,” he said with a smile.

“Bucky, huh. Well Bucky I guess the deal is settled. Think of something easy to do, cause  I don’t think I’ll be walking any time soon.”

He came over and gave your hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry. I got you.”

[rainierbooty-blog]

Intro; The Price of Going Home

Everything was wrong, felt wrong. Her head spun as she heard mechanical gears kick into motion, her eyes blurred but the shapes… She could make out the door of her pod opening.

Air reached into her frozen lungs, her chest stinging as she shivered awake. Blinking hurt, like small needles stabbing into her eyes as small icicles laced her long eyelashes. She fell forward at the sudden feeling of her body, weak, slightly numb. Breathing in she held it, her mind still foggy from her dream. Was it a dream? She lay face into the metal flooring, warm compared to her slumber. It wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a nightmare, it was real.

Realization hit her as she tried to stand, stumbling back, weak fingers wrapping themselves around her metal prison. Her heart hammered in her chest as she pushed herself forward, hitting the pod across from her, where he lay. She screamed out, fingers trying to find a release as her eyes started to adjust to the light. His face was pale, stuck in pain.

“Nate!” She screamed out, her voice hoarse from the ice that melted through her. She hit the glass in hope it would open. “No… Nate…” She sobbed out loud, her forehead resting where her fist clashed against the window. Her body started to shake as warm tears streamed down her face. “Get it together, Kate. This isn’t the time for this.” She whispered to herself as she used the back of her hand to wipe away the small rivers that trailed down her cheeks. Her mind kicked into gear then, the small pep talk making her think as she looked around the chamber. Her eyes landed on the release console. Shaking she pressed the button.

Slowly the doors open, the frozen corpse falling forward into Kate’s arms, unbalanced by the weight she dropped to her knees. He was stiff, un-moving, his thick black hair leaving flecks of ice on her lap, watching how they melt into the cloth she held back another scream that threatened to spill. Slowly she turned his head, his eyes closed, his mouth twisted in agony. Gently she traced the scar down his face, from the top of his forehead, through his eyebrow, over his eyelids and down his prominent cheek bones. The scar they matched running down their face, the scar that caught his attention when they first met those years ago, the scar that with warm fingertips he had traced down her face late at night as she lay in his arms… But now those arms were no longer warm, no longer safe…

“Oh God why is this happening?” Kate whispered to her dead husband as she re-lived her dream of the strangers. “I should have done something…” She shook her head, entwining her fingers in his in a poor attempt to make him more life like, a way to comfort her aching soul.

“I’ll get him back. I’ll get our baby back I promise… I’ll come back for you I swear, and I will take revenge. Oh Nate….” She breathed, her body shaking as she carefully moved his body off her lap, crossing his arms over his chest. “I promise Nate. I’ll make them pay for what they did to us.” Kate repeated, her voice more heated as hatred started to warm her veins.

That hatred, the disgust and hurt bringing energy back to her bones as she stood, her fists clenching as she backed away from her husband, taking one last glance at him before turning around and storming out of the chamber, the chamber now a cemetery.

Her memory flashed before her as she retraced her steps. Vault suit on, follow the doctor down the hall. The words repeating through her head as she started to run. Her heart thumped in her throat as she slid to a halt, the doorway to the vault entrance locked.

“No, no, no…” She whispered, kicking the heavy metal. She yelled out in pain as she fell back, her toes aching. Clues, she needed clues, she needed to slow down. If they could get in, she could get out.

The vault was a desolate mess, dust settled onto surfaces, lights flickering, a radio playing in the distance. She got to her feet, tucking her black hair behind her ear as she listened. Turning around she noticed an open door, slowly and carefully she approached it.

The mess hall was abandoned, the radio still playing its white noise, open bottles of beer and cards lay on the table, a skeleton broken in a leather chair. She covered her mouth in horror, it’s hollowed eyes staring at her, it’s mocking grin making her skin crawl but in it’s bony fingers lay a gun. She approached it, expecting it to jump up and grab her, and carefully brushed the phalanges off the hilt of the pistol. A 10mm, still loaded.

“At least I have this.” She sighed to herself as she looked around the hall, another open door, another possibility. Surely she could find an escape? Kate nodded to herself, to reassure herself as she walked through the tomb.

Panting she sat at the desk, her head felt hot, her body was aching from the sudden activity. But she was close. Through the office window she could see the vault door, the entrance. Vault suit on, follow the doctor down the hall. Her mind drifted as she remembered.

Nate holding the bundle of blankets close to his chest, his hair messed from the explosion, his face grim but held that ‘it’s ok’ smile. He assured her it was ok, they were ok, Shaun was ok…

She remembered, how she leaned on Nate’s strong shoulder, looking down at her son who slept peacefully while they waited their turn to be assigned to a chamber, how innocent he was, how he didn’t know the chaos that loomed above them.

She snapped back into reality, hearing something move from the room behind her. Her hand clasped around her gun as she heard the noise again, a shuffle on the ground. Slowly she slid out of the chair, crouching close to the ground waiting…

A cockroach, the size of a dog scuttered through the door way, it’s antennae twitching, it’s legs scratching at the ground. Kate gasped out loud, it’s attention turning to her. It started running towards her, making a strange hissing and gurgling noise. Her body tensed as she shot at it, missing it. It’s wings fluttered open as it lunged onto her, biting at her hand. She swore as she hit it with the butt of her gun, it’s head crushing open, warm goo sliding down her shoulder. Trying not vomit she kicked it’s body away, her stomach clenching at it’s legs still twitching.

“What the-” She gasped when something crashed over the desk, on her back. She rolled, hoping, wishing it would get off her, the gurgle of a hiss loud in her ear as she grabbed onto it. It’s wings expanded and fluttered in protest as she threw it across the room, shooting at it. Four bullets wasted in the moment of panic.

“Shit, shit!” Kate yelled as she kicked over the chair, it crashing into a pile of cloth and bone. “Shit. This can’t be happening!” She cried out to herself as she continued to throw herself about to shake off the gross feeling. She hit the desk with her fist, hoping for damage when the terminal flickered on. She paused, staring as it booted itself up, it’s green text shining in her eyes.

“Yes.” She cheered to herself as she bent over the desk to see the screen, wiping dust off with her thumb as she scrolled through entries. 'Vault Emergency Exit’ made her heart thump as she selected it, taking note of the directions. She had a way to the vault door! Grinning she stared out the window where the metal door blocked her freedom, her stomach dropped seeing a giant cockroach scitter across the glass. Her only exit, a room full of monster bugs….

She shivered in disgust, the feeling of the goo still slick against her shoulder sent warning signals all through her.

“No. I can do this. I can’t stay down here forever… I need to find Shaun… But if there are roaches here what could be up there? No! Kate, you can do this! Nate and Shaun need you to do this.” She paced around the office, arguing with herself. “Oh Jesus, I’ve lost my mind already.” She sighed to herself as she headed to the Overseer’s quarters, where the first roach came from. “Oh god, I can’t do this.” She bit her lip as she reloaded her pistol, counting her ammo.

“Has to be roaches, not bad guys… Roaches.” She continued to complain as she rounded the corner, her gun out and ready for trouble. Tiptoeing she went through the room, opening each draw, each cupboard in search of more ammo. “Can shoot a guy in the face, but a roach? Can’t do that. And so big? Why do they have to be so fucking huge anyway!” She continued ranting as she reached the door that lead into a tunnel. Slowly she wrapped her fingers around the handle, taking deep breathes to prepare her self. Even more slowly she inched the door open, waiting for a winged creature to try and rip her apart.Listening she paused before leaving the safety of the quarters.

“Nate would have dealt with this better than me…“ She whispered to herself for more encouragement, remembering how if a spider found its way in their bathroom he would come to her rescue, a teasing grin on his face as he would slide past her and place a glass cup over the eight legged freak.

"You know, darling. For a woman who has traveled the world and seen a man’s head be blown off, you are sure afraid of everything.” He poked at her as he shimmied a piece of paper along the wall, causing the spider to fall int the cup.“You are burning that cup, kid.” She grimaced as he held the glass down to her face.“They are more scared of you than you are of them.” He informed matter of fact-ly.“Then why the hell do they bite?” She groaned, escaping from the bathroom.“The same reason you pull a gun out.” He laughed holding the glass out further towards her, following Kate through the house teasingly before going out the back door to release it.

“I didn’t even think of spiders….” Kate groaned as she slipped back into reality, crouching low to the ground.

The tunnel was dark, the emergency lights knocked out or flickering setting her panic on full blast as she crawled through it, a hand along the wall to guide her. Any moment, she swore, something would jump up and bite her. The pistol gave her small comfort while he held it in front of her, if anything did jump out it was quicker to shoot.

The nozzle of her gun hit something, a metallic clink echoed through the pitch dark tunnel as the door slid open, already the attention was on her. Steadying herself she shot, once, twice, five times. The creatures lay twitching, strange green insect innards sprayed on the cold flooring, her heart hammered in her chest as she waited in case of another wave.

Once all safe she made her way to the platform, where she remembered the man who checked off his list. One female, one male, one infant. She scanned the arrange of buttons, pressing what she could but nothing happened. The giant gear didn’t move, nothing made a noise, only her clacking away at random buttons echoed in the silence. She shifted, her foot bumping a skull. Kate looked down to how it rolled away, off the ledge onto the cement flooring below, cracking open. Her eyes retraced its path to the skeleton at her feet, it’s clothes like a sheet over it’s rib cage and pelvis but attached to it’s arm was her last remaining hope of getting out of the tomb.

She picked up the pipboy, shaking free the radius and ulna it clung to and strapped it onto her right arm. Instantly it jumped to life, booting up, identifying it’s user. She pulled the long cord from it’s top and inserted the port into the console. The buttons it up, the plastic cover of a red button clicked open.

Her heart stopped as she pressed the red button, holding it down for a few seconds. As she released it the vault came to life, bright yellow lights as a warning chanted through the room, the metal gear rumbled as it pulled back. The air changed, feeling warmer as it let out steam as it rolled away. The platform moved forward, towards the waiting steps that lead to the elevator.

She unplugged the pipboy, sweat already rolling down her back as she raced across the small bridge, down the stairs and onto the elevator, looking up she could see sunlight, seductive and bright. She was afraid then, that she would regret making the step forward… But she made a promise.

The elevator started to rise, her legs feeling weak like jelly as she moved towards the light. No going back now, she was halfway there. The light hurt her eyes as she kept rising. What if she wasn’t alive? That this was some strange vision before going to heaven? Maybe Kate was the one who was shot and Nate was taking these steps? No, she thought as she shielded her eyes, feeling the warm breeze hit her face. This is real, she smiled to herself, her vision of home flooding through her as she started to get excited, to see home again, to have a sense of familiarity to herself, a glittering hope that this was all a bad dream and she would wake up soon and be in Nate’s arms, listening to Shaun’s sleeping breaths in the room across from them.

The hope diminished as the elevator jerked to a halt. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust but when they did her heart stopped. The scene before her was not home, the familiar landscape was changed, twisted and empty. Tree’s grew without leaves, grass was patchy and yellow, skeletons littered the platform she stood in the center of.

In the distance she could see houses, crumbling and broken, her home was gone and the nightmare continued.The silence was the most unsettling. Her heavy footsteps down the twisted path leading to her home street was the only sound, memories of children yelling in play in the trees, cars slowly pulling out of their driveways, neighbors calling out to one another drifted away as her feet touched the broken road.

Home. It was gone. Broken. A far off memory. Kate never felt more alone

[davidastbury]

April 2019 (continued)

I am out of touch with the things youngsters do these day to excite wonderment. When away from the distractions of Russell and his sister I turned my mind to thermionic valves. It was easy to set up a kit for a single diode - a battery supplying the heater and a signal fed into the cathode - all wired-up to a broken oscilloscope (given me by local radio shop) fed from the fat terminal on the anode. The real fun bit was when various inputs were applied to the grids. I loved watching the green line on the ‘scope screen going crazy.

Everything in the world is like a thermionic valve. Our billions of atoms throb and frazzle - matter and energy being equivalent and interchangeable and following the rules of the ‘universal field’. Each atom in a state of vibration and motion - our bodies are not solid physical body, we are a mass of pulsating, interacting energy fields.

And that is simply the beginning - at the subatomic level we learn about photons. These are chargeless particles carrying the basic form of light and electromagnetic energy. They lead the physicist to what they call ‘zero state’. Physicists and anatomists are exploring the idea that who we are, our consciousness, is not contained in our brains - and that the brain is an amplifier in a similar way to my childish experiments with thermionic valves. Our real essence is held in layers of activity and interactivity external to our bodies.

And there is a First Cause. Once there was light everywhere and it filled everything. This isn’t the light created on Day 1 - but something far beyond that. For whatever reason (or no reason) there followed a series of emanations, or contractions, each diminishing the strength of the light until physical matter came into existence. Endless dimensions, worlds beyond worlds, armies, choirs, layers of palaces, floors of sapphire, millions of angels - all dancing on the head of a pin!

with all sorts of projects - book illustrations, textiles and furnishings, theatre sets and so on. Commissions weren’t brilliant but the extra money from her father made a huge difference. She frequently moved addresses - falling in love with flats, making them exactly to her taste and then moving on to the next. I suppose you could describe her as a ‘restless soul’. And there was always a boyfriend - as interchangeable as the flats. Some stayed for months, some only weeks. They were all her type - arty and clever, good natured, adventurous - but there was always, on her side, a reluctance to let them know who she really was. She enjoyed being out with them in company, with other friends. In quiet moments she concluded that these boyfriends, although very nice in their own way, were in fact, immature.

So ... the last time I heard about her she had thrown a fancy thirtieth birthday party for herself in a Soho club. The following morning, despite her hangover, a taxi stopped outside the flat to take her to a well-known clinic.

She would stipulate that the donor was an artist.

Frank and Julie ... 1965

We used to have good times together, but then I heard that they were moving away. I bought a card and a small gift for Julie - she had just turned twenty - and called on them. It was snowing and it had been snowing for days. Julie answered the door - stepping back, smiling.

The hall was cluttered with boxes and heaps of clothes. ‘You’ve just missed Frank’ - she said - ‘Only two minutes ago. He’ll be walking into Didsbury and you can probably catch him.’

We both moved quickly to the front door; both at the same time, bumping into each other and laughing - as you do.

I never caught up with Frank and I never saw either of them again. It would all have melted into obscurity, but instead was kept alive by that one second of our bumping together - that one second of her warm, soft weight - preserved forever with the clarity of a photograph stored in darkness, hidden between the pages of an old book.

Dirk Bogarde leaving UK in the old days.

‘Going abroad for long sir?’

‘Yes, I am going to live in France.’

‘Very good sir. I assume you are carrying the maximum permitted amount of cash.’

‘Yes, I have sixty pounds.’

‘That won’t last you very long sir?’

‘I have arranged for a series of bank transfers.’

‘Have you now sir. How very nice for you.’

And there you have it ... British malice, remembered by all of us who watched this broken crack-pot little country pretend to still be seat of empire, of ruling the waves, of putting Johnny foreigner in his place.

We never forget you. The years have passed and you’ve moved on - we sometimes try to get in touch - addresses have changed; disused emails, old phone numbers etc, but we continue sticking stamps and clicking ponderously on keyboards. I cannot be sure that they arrive; we never get a reply - we no longer expect a reply.

But it would be nice to know that you are okay - that you’re doing well. And if you’re not there’s nothing we wouldn’t do to help you.

eral of their contributors, followed by discussion and editorial comment.

The daughter gave her a blank look.

Vera ranted - ‘The dirty buggers!’

The daughter gave a little smile - ‘Hmmm’.

Vera glared at her - ‘And what does “Hmmm” mean?’.

Silence.

‘Well? Am I to take it that you and that long, lanky husband of yours get up to this sort of thing?’

At which point a young nurse appeared, carrying the wide-eyed and angry-looking Siamese cat.

Conclusion of an untold story.

It would have been better had she been honest from the start - right at the beginning she should have told him. It would have been better had he enquired more carefully, instead of pretending to believe when really he didn’t. It would have been better had she gone straight home that night instead of going for a drink with friends - because one drink became seven or eight. It would have been better had she not shared the taxi - where she got the giggles and said too much - far too much.

It would have been better had she been honest from the start.

It would have been better had they never met.

Hotel Lift ... London

Early morning and the lift fills up; all of us standing stiffly, eyes buzzing, all of us with not-quite-fully-awake faces. Me - jammed just inside, next to the control panel and pressing the buttons as called out - with the inevitable humorous confusion the hard-of-hearing seem to cause.

Family bunched together - dad resting hands on small boy’s shoulders - tall, early teen daughter, eyes closed, mortified with embarrassment, chin quivering with sheer self-consciousness. Hating being with mum and dad and spoilt-brat brother. Hating the shared room, her dad’s cheerfulness, her own free fall between childhood and the future - but hating most of all the cluster of spots around her mouth. The only possible response is to close her eyes and shut it all out.

But the really great figure in this little scene is the mother. She’s facing the girl and looking slightly up at her - looking at her with the most searching, sympathetic and loving expression. She isn’t the slightest concerned about all these strangers pressed around them; she is lost in the rapturous view of her miraculous and beautiful daughter.

School Outing

Wall of noise in subway tunnel, about twenty or thirty or forty tiny children - swarming and squawking. Shepherded by frazzled teachers - eyes everywhere, anticipating trouble and counting heads.

Old Photograph

The photograph is from the winter of 1963. Two young people standing in the snow. That winter was one of the coldest on record; the snow came and the snow stayed. The photo shows the two of them, smiling, holding hands, with snowflakes in their hair and icicles dripping on the railings behind them.

It’s interesting and rather dramatic; the couple are in dark coats - creating a sharp contrast to the absorbing white everywhere else. They have a strong presence - you cannot stop looking at them.

So what happened? The snow eventually stopped. The ice thawed. The two young people no longer held hands and smiled at each other ... everything melted away ... back in 1963.

My pet chameleon isn’t feeling himself these days - he is very despondent and doesn’t change colour when he moves about.

I think he’s suffering from reptile dysfunction.

A Fall in Winter

A fabulous winter day; all things bright and beautiful - the muffled crunch of snow under your feet and a low sun shining right into your eyes. Very cold indeed - the road still frozen and would remain frozen.

He was walking too fast - worse than that he hadn’t adapted his way of walking to the new conditions - he wasn’t using the slow flat-footed, lumbering walk - instead he was striding quickly along the pavement as if the ice didn’t exist.

So he fell. Quite a balletic fall - not at all slapstick or silent-movie funny. He landed with thud and lay still, looking at the ground with an immediate self-consciousness of having done something silly, and yet staring down as if blaming the pavement itself. At the same time he was cautiously testing his injuries - you cannot fall like that, with such a thud, and get away with it - despite the pain there appeared to be no fractures.

So he lay in the snow - feeling very odd, trying to get over onto his side, wincing. Several people had rushed over - total strangers who had seen the old man fall. They crouched down around him - so many of them that it felt like in a tiny room opened up to the sky. So many questions! He tried to reassure them that he was fine - he wasn’t hurt. And then he started to apologise; he wanted them to know that he was sorry for having fallen and taken up their time. And then he felt a choking gratitude at their kindness - these total strangers who had been going about their own business but had put that aside - like the woman who pressed her gloves over his hands as if he belonged to her family.

Russell and Caroline

Russell and Caroline: Caroline and Russell. Impossible for me to think of them separately. They were the golden templates of a breathtaking anticipation of what life had to offer. The cheerful light-heartedness of Russell and the electrifying, wordless wonder of being near to Caroline became as fixed and permanent as day and night.

Everything is so different now. A few ‘wrong words’ and friendships disintegrate - what we imagined was strong is washed away - what we thought was permanent evaporates in the heat of disagreement.

Russell was incomparably good-natured and generous - in the way you sometimes see in children, before they are distorted by pressures from home and school. Caroline appeared to be more complex.

I wanted absolutely nothing from her. I didn’t want to be her ‘boyfriend’ (I didn’t understand what that word meant) - I didn’t want anything except that she should like me. But even without this - without even a flicker of appreciation (and believe me, I would have spotted it!) - even with nothing at all - and even at a distance of so many years - I would have liked to tell her how grateful I am.

A Lasting Impression

There was only one untidy (incredibly untidy!) room in Russell’s house. The parents must have thought it a good idea for the children to have their own place where they could make as much mess as they liked. I think they had given it a twee name - which I cannot remember. It was on the ground floor, round the back, overlooking the garden.

Perhaps when they were very young, Russell and Caroline may have peacefully played together in the room and their parents would have fondly watched the arrangement - but during the time of my friendship with Russell (and my dogged, faithful, panting adoration of Caroline) they no longer shared the facility - if one of them went in; the other went out. And this is what happened on that sunny afternoon in nineteen-fifty-something-or-other.

Russell scowled and mumbled something about the house being ‘invaded’. The gardener was in the kitchen, and we couldn’t go near because of his unsettling, but no doubt harmless, habit of winking at us. Russell’s mother was in the main downstairs room, having tea with visitors; his father was in the other room, involved in a complicated telephone conversation. So Russell steered me to the ‘children’s room’ or whatever it was called.

Caroline was already there, sitting at a small table next to the window. She immediately got up and flounced out; Russell didn’t even look at her, but as I felt the ripple of disturbed air as she walked past, I succeeded in gulping in a massive, high-octane impression of who she was and what she was. I was in a mist of semi-reality and wasn’t listening to Russell’s voice - instead my eyes were fixed on the items of Caroline’s table. There was a clutter of items, unmistakably feminine - little gold and pink tubes, probably lipstick; little palate trays like artist’s equipment; and other, unidentifiable, secret items to enhance beauty. And then I noticed the mirror on a swivel - chromium frame, circular, about twelve inches in diameter. Set at the angle of Caroline’s preference - the angle that would flatter; that would show her at her best - at her dazzling best. I could see fingermarks and small greasy smears yet the mirror was a pool of silver light - the pool of Narcissus. Caroline had leaned over this pool and fallen in.

In the centre of the mirror was the unmistakable imprint of her lips.

“Are you listening to me, or not?” Russell said.

Night Rain. ... 1964

The beer tasted like rusty iron and the more you drank the thirstier you felt. And you both smoked - she smoked tipped but you were a purist - nothing but the best - Senior Service! All those people packed together in such a small room; it wouldn’t be allowed today - all that jostling and pushing - the heat of bodies, the randy laughter, the drinks cheerfully spilled.

And there was a man staring at her - a stranger - and she told you - she was frightened by the rage in his eyes - she told you about his eyes - wide, yellow as nicotine, raked with veins. So you turned your back to block him out. You put your face close to hers - so close that her face was distorted; like looking at your reflection in the back of a spoon. And you both laughed and she was so lovely and you were squashed together with her hair in your face and you sucked in the smell of her wet coat.

Manchester

History untold in this spot - and most of it will be pretty horrible. The bit I know is that this small strip of land, next to the Cathedral, was once cobbled and then it was tarmacked, then laid out as a lawn, then cobbled again and finally covered in large slabs of attractive York stone. Back in the day I used to cross behind the buildings to spend my wages in a second-hand booksellers. I think it was the bookseller himself who told me that the site was once used for public hangings and then, when the venue for this moved to the prison up the road, the site was used for ‘public speakers’. Anyone who so wished could turn up on a Sunday afternoon, stand on a box, and shout out whatever he wanted.

In later times the area was ripped up and a vast underground car park was created. For some reason this was not a commercial success and the ‘hole’ was filled up and grass was laid, giving the impression that nothing had happened. About that time - when Manchester felt the first stirrings of guilt at the atrocities of previous planners - I used the spot as a meeting place.

So today I can stop and stand and ponder how the ground is saturated with various miseries. Behind me is the shake, rattle and roll of traffic and somewhere in the middle of it all there are voices - voices from way, way back ... voices of the doomed and the angry .... and some of mine too.

Only Once

Countless others have looked at this same beautiful coastline and said, in many languages, roughly the same things; as in the future so will countless others - running endlessly through time.

But we both know, even as we say these same things, that we have had our share and are grateful and accept the words from the hills, the sky and the sea - all saying ...

“For you, never again.”

On The Train

Oh that lost, faraway look! That drifting into time past!

I can see it in his face - total stranger of course - not aware that he’s being watched - not aware that I am trying to follow his thoughts.

Oh yes there was a time! A time when she used to cycle crazily to meet him - a time when he would have done anything for her ... anything.

And the time when the big something happened. He doesn’t know how he got through it, but he did.

It’s all in the past - years ago - so very long ago.

He has changed - the world has changed - everything has changed - everything except his hurt.

Edward Heinz. ... 1965

Edward was coming up to retirement age when I started in the firm. He was short and round (Pickwickian!), pink faced and white-haired; always wearing the same (three piece) suit and military tie - the same shiny Oxford shoes - the same gold-framed glasses through which he peered in bewilderment at my noisy arrival.

The first thing I did was buy myself a buttoned leather arm-chair worthy of the reading room in a Pall Mall club. I gave the furniture store a head-office order number and Edward cackled at my audacity. He said that he had been sitting on his hard stool for forty-one years and it had never occurred to him to order a proper chair.

I don’t remember much detail of how we spent our days. I would be sprawled back in my chair - feet up on the desk, admiring my Chelsea boots - he would be at his desk - calling the client ‘Sir’ - quick to reassure, to soothe, to placate.

I knew he was into his third marriage and he didn’t like his current wife. I learned that he had fought at Gallipoli and that he attended reunions. I learned that his favourite authors were William Makepeace Thackeray and Henry Fielding. I also knew that at weekends he was quite a piss-artist.

But he was a gentleman; God knows what he thought of me - the smile on his face hardly ever slipped - even when I was sharp with him or showed impatience at his deafness - and the kindness never left his small, shy eyes.

Uncles and Grandfathers ... #3

I gave him a very old and battered silver dollar - it wasn’t a birthday present or anything like that, I just wanted him to have it. A dealer had told me that it was from the mid 1840s. I remember how his eyes widened as he turned it over and over. He was imagining all the battles the dollar had seen - perhaps the Alamo - the Civil War.

Later his father said - ‘Why did you give it him? I don’t want him to have old stuff.’

Uncles and Grandfathers ... #2

An uncle or grandfather should always have two white, ironed handkerchiefs in his pockets. These are to be swiftly produced (with a flourish!) at all sorts of domestic emergencies - or, if the children's electronic gadgets fail, can be a source of entertainment. He should be skilled in basic tricks - folding a handkerchief into a white rat, which runs up his arm, is always a favourite.

Pharaoh was dictating, and his scribe was busy chipping away at the stone tablet. 'I am Emperor of the Upper and Lower Nile and I surround myself with a personal bodyguard of fearless, strong, virile young men.'

The chips of stone were flying through the air and the perspiring chiseller looked up enquiringly. 'Excuse me, Your Majesty, but is 'virile' spelled with one or two testicles.'