#what if there are consequences to his actions that he could never foresee

[viric-dreams]

Jones was born in the year of the Fall, and grew up in a world in which the British Empire's hold on the world was suddenly not a foregone conclusion. How this would impact him would not become apparent until his teens, when he was radilcalised during his time spent in England. He became heavily involved in the pan-Celtic movement into and throughout his university years. Despite his age, he quickly became a known face amongst friends and foes alike. Jones had a knack for words and for people, and could just as easily rally a crowd with a passionate speech as negotiate across a table from adversaries. He was becoming a political problem.

It was during a speech in 1883 that things had gone wrong. He's not sure himself what had lit that fuse, that had set the rally alight, whether the first blow had come from the police or the crowd. But suddenly there was chaos, and the constables were upon them. One of his comrades was pulled to the ground beside him, the constable swinging at her with a nightstick. Jones grabbed at the man, several stone heavier, tried in vain to pull him off of her. A swing of that nightstick connecting with the side of his face is what he got for his trouble. Half blinded by blood, adrenaline rushing through his veins, he pulled back his fist and threw a punch.

He doesn't remember much after that.

His memories of the next few weeks are hazy, a procession of lawyers, sympathetic faces, furious family. He was being charged for murder. The officer he'd hit had died two days later. One punch thrown at the wrong angle. The prosecution was out for blood. They were determined to make an example of him, get him out of the way, it's all politics, the union leader had told him. He should be ashamed, he's ruined the family's good name, their mother cannot talk about him without bursting into tears, his brother told him. He can get through this, it shouldn't be too long, and she'll be waiting for him on the other side, his girlfriend had told him.

The ship bound for Italy, and eventually, the Cumaean Canal was the list time he'd seen the sun. He was twenty-two.

[lu-is-not-ok]

I see! I see! then in turn, envy probably does fit better, but I'm going to give an alternate viewpoint on these sins that I think you'll find interesting.

personally, I don't think the sins involved are the primary lessons of the sinners, but can be interpreted as the failings of the antagonist. Don is more obvious, given the first kindered's "ingenious" ideas that led to his children suffering. his pride blocking the idea that this dream wouldn't work.

while for heathcliff... I doubt he'd have this much of an issue if more than one person in his life gave enough of a damn, its clear cut that the butlers didn't even bother to feed him if he weren't nelly, slothful neglect.

It's an... interesting viewpoint, I'll admit.

I can definitely see what you mean with the First Kindred's main failing being Pride. Him having excessive confidence in his plans and not pausing to hear out the grievances of his Kindreds more closely is what eventually led to everything falling apart, as he was unable to account for his own flaws and did not foresee the consequences of his actions. That is, very much, a classic Pride move for sure.

...However, I think your assessment for Heathcliff and Canto 6 has some flaws in it. Mainly because saying that "the butlers" are the antagonist of Heathcliff's story is... Did we read the same Canto?

Let's dissect this Chapter a bit to get to the bottom of this and see if there is any way for Sloth to come from a Canto 6 antagonist. For the Canto itself, there are three notable antagonists (-ish). Hindley, Nelly, and Erlking Heathcliff (with a bonus Every Catherine as part of the same archetype).

Hindley's all about bullying and hurting Heathcliff out of his own feelings of inadequacy, he feels as though his father cares more for a random kid found on the street than he cares about him, his own son. His Sins could be read as somewhere between Envy (his lack of self-worth being the core of why he lashes out) and Wrath (him feeling cornered and unloved cause him to try to change it by doing everything he can to get Heathcliff out of the picture).

Nelly is... interesting. Her colluding with Hermann is caused by her feeling like she's trapped, helpless to change her fate of being hurt by the fall-out of whatever happens between Heathcliff and Cathy in every Mirror World. This is, also, a very Wrath-coded action. However... she does accuse Heathcliff and Catherine of being too Slothful to actually communicate their feelings for each other and in the process causing harm to everyone around them. Put a pin in that, I'll come back to this later.

Then there's Erlking Heathcliff and Every Catherine, which have fairly simple motivations. They both independently came to the conclusion that they themselves are the reason why the other can never be truly happy, and so decided that the only way to fix that is to kill every Mirror version of themselves. This can be read as many things Sin-wise, primarily Gloom (sinking into the self-destructive hopelessness of being unable to find a World where they can be happy together) and Envy (lacking a sense of self-worth to the point they fully blame themselves for everything going wrong in every World).

However, while these three are the antagonists of Canto 6, they're not really antagonists of Heathcliff's past. It's... a lot harder to say if there is an exact culprit for the suffering Heathcliff went through during his time at Wuthering Heights, but I'll try.

One culprit I'd like to define as more so the environment itself rather than any specific people. Not just the butlers of the manor, but the whole Earnshaw family and the classist system they all live in. All of that in one way or another contributed to the abuse Heathcliff had to endure.

...Could you define all that Sloth? Kind of, maybe, since it's blind acceptance of the system that led to the abuse. But you could also make a strong case for Pride, since a lot of the abuse came from the people around Heathcliff treating him as a lesser being, as someone who isn't worth as much as they themselves are.

So if not any of the Canto 6 antagonists, and if not the Wuthering Heights itself, then who else could be the source of the Sloth?

This is where I'd like to take out that pin from how Nelly described both Heathcliff and Catherine as Slothful. Because, yes, I believe our Heathcliff and Catherine are in a way antagonists to their own pasts as well. Let me explain.

The miscommunication between Heathcliff and Catherine, their inability to share their feelings with each other, them resigning themselves to never be able to do so. Not only is it one of the main sources of a lot of suffering both they and people around them go through, but it's also, just as Nelly commented, very Slothful behavior.

...Which is. What I would like to say. But unfortunately, Nelly can only describe what Heathcliff and Cathy's actions seem like on the surface - in reality, the Sins that are actually on display are not Sloth.

For Heathcliff, it's Envy - he feels like he's not good enough for Cathy, and so feels like he's not worth it to confess his feelings to her.

For Catherine, it's Pride - she feels like she and Heathcliff aren't on the same level, and so feels the need to help Heathcliff become a better person and reach her level before she can even consider confesshing her feelings to him.

I really, really tried to find a way to make this theory work, cause it is a very interesting one that I think could work considering what we've learned about the Golden Boughs in Canto 7. If they feed on people's desires, it would make sense that the Sins they take on as Saplings are of those they fed from. After all, the Bough stabbed into the First Kindred very clearly sapped him of all his Pride, leading him to lose all of his confidence and belief in his dream. Like, it's too perfect for there to not be an in-universe connection!

Unless... we're looking at this all wrong. While narratively, it makes sense for Heathcliff to be the one unlocking Hokma, in-universe it could be a coincidence. After all, there was no Bough able to feed on anyone's desires in Canto 6. One got obliterated, and one got stolen.

So then what other Bough could have fed on Sloth...

...

AH FUCK YI SANG AND DONGBAEK-

IF THERE'S ANYONE WHO COULD HAVE FED A BOUGH WITH SLOTH IT WOULD BE THOSE TWO GOD FUCKING DAMNIT.

[conflictofthemind]

I don’t know how to break this to you guys, but Byler as an official couple is not going to be happening in the first half of the season and it probably won’t even officially be a thing until the finale. Because of Mike’s issues. And it being the 80s.

Will has actually… been a fairly easy character to figure out. And for as much as he does still absolutely repress his sexuality, he is way further on the path to living authentically than Mike is. We all agree on this, right? Will is used to being labelled as a freak regardless of what he does or doesn’t do. He never really tried to feign interest in girls. Most of the town already suspects he might be gay, and while it would get worse for him if the rumours were known to be truthful, he knows he has the support of Jonathan. And I think he knows deep down that he has the support of Mike (and Joyce). Otherwise, why tell him that he makes him feel better for being ‘different’ (gay)?

But Mike? ‘Just trying to be normal’ Michael Wheeler? We know he didn’t mean that as in school; he prides himself as a nerd. Michael Wheeler who seemed like he could have been on the precipice of finally breaking it off with El, and then tried to go back even harder after Will’s push? And for the general audience to make sense of what they will perceive as a sudden shift in Mike’s character when they reveal his feelings for Will, they’ll have to hammer it in that Mike is afraid to his core of being out for them to make sense of his previous actions.

Mike has a different personal life than Will. Reagan supporter conservative parents who don’t like to speak about emotions. He doesn’t have as strong of a relationship with Nancy. We know Hellfire and Eddie’s death will have big consequences on the narrative, and that the town will continue the witch hunt against all of the members of Hellfire. They list sodomy as one of its demonic influences. Will is also going back to high-school, and it’s possible he has a bruise on his face in that Episode 4 farm scene. He’s been bullied before, and I don’t see how they don’t bring that up again, and worse.

If Mike is out, or gets outed, he will fall from a much higher place into a much deeper pit than Will. I honestly foresee them both realizing eachothers’ feelings by the middle of the season, maybe acting on them in private, but Mike suddenly pushes him away in public when Will tries to initiate any contact or closeness - even nothing overtly romantic.

Will is ready to start being more open about their relationship to family and friends as he’s sick of hiding himself and has probably, at this point, come out to Joyce at the least and met Robin. Mike is not so ready. This creates a conflict leading up to the finale where Mike truly has to choose between living in the closet for the rest of his life, and losing Will, versus the bravery to be open (to friends/ family) at the risk of being rejected or further outed and kicked out / assaulted / etc.

[anika-ann]

Cracks in Foundation (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, standalone or part of Love on the Brain series

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 6000

Summary: Dating Steve Rogers is a curse and a gift. Even as it was always a privilege, right now, it feels like the former. You really want to smack some sense into him so this never happens again, but you know it will – after all, that’s half the reason you love him.

In other words, Steve is stupidly brave on a mission and it has consequences neither of you could foresee. But maybe you should have; because now you’re here alone to pick up the pieces.

Warnings!!: Steve being an absolute dumbass, mentions and images of death, hypothermia, PTSD, flashbacks, probably not an ideal treatment of a flashback, canon typical violence, language

A/N: reader is called “Agent Jones”, works for the Avengers Initiative; you do not need knowledge of Criminal Minds or Love on the Brains series to read this, but it will, of course, make more sense. I imagine this taking place much later - in about a year after the events of Love on the Brain; divider by firefly-graphics

In my body I fight fire With the snow, my hell is cold (SYML – Body)

This shouldn’t have happened. This nevershouldn’t have happened but it had – of course it had. You should have seen it coming, both the action and the reaction. All of you should have known better, but you in particular.

Unfortunately, sometimes, despite your ability to profile people, you still failed.

Sometimes, despite your best knowledge of Steven Grant Rogers, you still managed to underestimate him. His literally unhuman body. His profoundly good heart. His incredible strength in both muscles and psyche. His ability to have you burn for him with a single touch. His ability to touch your heart in ways no one ever could.

His extraordinary dumbassery.

You really should have known so much better.

If you had, you wouldn’t have him here, face ashen, lips turning blue, eyes wide and unfocused; he looked like death itself.

You swallowed your tears and tried to battle the ever-rising panic crawling up your throat, closing your eyes for a moment as if it could erase the terrifying sight.

“Steve? Stevie? You’re going to be okay… I’m here. You’re going to be okay…”

You repeated the mantra so many times you weren’t sure anymore whether you were saying it to him or to yourself.

The craziest thing was, it wasn’t even the worst sight of the day you were offered by your exceptional dumbass of a boyfriend; no, that had been what your own mind had shown you. Now that image was going to haunt you forever and despite knowing yelling solved nothing and it couldn’t change the past, you were going to scream your lungs out when you’d get the chance. Later. Right now, you had more pressing matters to attend to.

Like making sure Steve Rogers, your GG, would come back to you.

You needed to get to work.

It was a routine mission really, if such things as routine existed within the Avengers Initiative. It was rather routine in terms of involvement of the actual Avengers; Steve and Natasha joined missions like these – sweep a base, gather intel, make some arrests if lucky enough – on a regular basis. Tony Stark coming with? Less so. Still, one could call it routine enough, even when located in the death of tundra in Russia around 100 miles from the border with Finland.

Besides the cold and Tony, there was nothing extraordinary. Just another mission.

And it had been; until the agents scattered and you heard several voices in the comms reporting they were in pursuit of the enemies. Until you found out they were chasing them through the tunnels and suddenly found themselves outside of the base. Until you learned that outside meant the landscape of the very frozen lake Natasha had purposely avoided landing the quinjet on for the fear of the heavy aircraft destabilizing the already risky environment.

Until you heard agent Smith was down. And by down, they meant under the ice, because a thinner layer of it cracked and broke under his feet. Until Steve fucking Rogers, two hundred and forty pounds of muscle and zero brain power at the moment had the wonderful idea to rush to Smith’s aid.

You had made it out of the base just in time to see his navy-blue suit disappear and your sleep for the following nights probably with it. You had stood there holding your breath as if you were the one in the icy water, as if subconsciously testing how much oxygen – as if that was the only concern – you had left before you’d have to make it to the surface for another breath.

It was long. It was too long. You had taken at least two breaths in the meantime and you weren’t sure the panic rising in your chest with every frantic beat of your heart, with every second they did not appear above the surface, was to blame.

Your hand flew to your comms and you cursed yourself for not having done it moments ago.

“Tony-“

“I’m onto those idiots, Squirt, don’t worry,” his voice sounded in your ear, not quite easing your worry in fact.

Steve was still under. Still in the water. Even though you were aware that he survived much worse than a few seconds of icy cold water – try decades – you’d rather he was still conscious when Tony would get his stupid ass out. And the second Steve would be able to hear you, were going to yell, very loudly and probably more than a little hysterical, because what the hell had he been doing beside tempting fate to give him another involuntary icy nap. You were going to chew the hell out of him, your fists curling in your thick microfibre gloves, because you felt like punshing him too, anything, just so you could stop holding your breath.

But you needed him to get out first.

“And get to the jet, your bae will need some warming up,” Tony added, causing you to grit your teeth, even as you were grateful; not a second later, the whoosh of Iron Man’s suit flying above your head blew the few stands of hair that escaped your hat in your face.

Completely ignoring Tony’s inappropriate comment and his sound advice, you remained right where you stood, gaze transfixed where you had last seen Steve, slipping under the surface. Your pulse thundered in your temples as you watched the red and gold of Tony’s suit fly like a flare above the flood of white surrounding you all, nearing the break in the ice, no doubt searching the heat signatures you assumed were fading with each passing moment.

And then the Iron Man himself performed an obnoxious superhero-like landing, complete with fist on the ground and your anger, gathering since you saw Steve dive into a fucking ice soup without a second thought, exploded, your vision turning bloody red for a split second. What the fuck was Stark doing that for?! Did he really just feed his ego while on a rescue mission?! You were going to-

And then the fist landed again. And again and again and then it hit you. You didn’t have the capacity to scold yourself for assuming and assuming completely wrong; the realization stunned you, blood freezing in your veins having nothing to do with the snow and harsh wind hitting your face.

The ice had frozen over. Steve jumped in and before he could emerge, the ice had frozen over his head. The image of a him under water, holding Smith, the fucking moron, to his chest and fighting to punch his way through the solid surface, swinging his arm heavily through the icy water stinging every inch of his skin, losing oxygen by the minute, that was an image that would haunt you forever, even as you had never set your eyes on it.

Then again, the arm of Tony’s suit diving into water and pulling out two men as easily as if they were helpless kittens was etched into your brain just as effectively, arriving with overwhelming relief. With a wordless prayer on your lips, you squinted against the snow blowing in your face to search for a lump of beloved and hated navy blue suit contrasting against the endless white of the plain surrounding the incident.

You’d swear you could hear him coughing, hungrily drinking in air in between when he doubled over as soon as Tony dropped him off in a safe distance from the crack. In the back of your mind, you were aware of the red and gold figure carrying the motionless body of Agent Smith, flying it to the quinjet, the medical team having prepared on the ramp with a stroller and equipment, but your eyes were transfixed on the dark mass of a supersoldier good hundred feet away still. You were almost certain, even from the distance, that he also managed to empty his stomach to make him feel even more miserable. Not that you blamed him; it had to be, apart from really fucking cold, extremely terrifying. It definitely was for you. Just the memory made your feel throat as if squeezed in a vice.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, pick-up number two happening right away,” Tony assured you face-to face, uncharacteristically humourless now that he had set eyes on the momentarily lifeless body of Agent Smith.

You thought you uttered a thank you, but he couldn’t hear it as he was already off to carry your exceptionally idiotic boyfriend along. And so you ran to the jet, boots heavy with snow falling in and biting coldly into your calf and shins, legs stiff from the shock of the experience still.

When Tony finally brought Steve after what felt like a lifetime, you certainly didn’t speak a word of complaint when he also hauled him further into the quinjet into one of the medical cubicles sans a team. You followed, painfully aware of every single muscle in Steve’s body trembling, the tips of his fingers having turned white.

“You can yell at him first,” Tony told you graciously, shooting Steve an ugly look before glancing at you entering just behind them.

“Gee thanks,” you snarked back automatically, tone softening when you met his genuinely worried eyes. “Thank you, Tony, really.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed, but a small smile passed over his lips. “Jarvis, heat up this room for our Capsicle, will you?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. Steve wasn’t going to live that down any time soon, probably ever, not after attempting to became an icicle for the second time.

“Certainly, sir. Gradually heating up to 25 degrees Celsius, as recommended in the medical manual,” the AI chimed helpfully, the wave of heat washing over you instantly. The air felt almost tropical after the arctic wind outside, but you were grateful. Steve would need that.

“Thanks, J,” you said, throwing off your gloves, hat and parka as quick as you managed with your fingers freezing, not bothering with more as to help Steve strip his soaking garments as soon a possible.

The silence that settled after rang a sudden alarm bells; it dawned to you at last that during the whole exchange, Steve remained quiet. Way too quiet.

You’d expect the sounds of zippers and Velcro as he was tearing off his uniform, the fabric dripping icy cold water despite the best engineers and designers having worked on the material. You’d expect his teeth to clatter in doing so, colourful curses on his blueish lips, especially when in company of only you and Tony. He had been coughing out water, quite violently, barely just having been dropped in the jet, so you’d think his air-ways would still fight spasm and the biting intrusion of ice, the raspy wet cough not ceasing.

But Steve was doing neither of that, tripling your worry for him in the process.

You moved to round him to get a look at him with an urgent whisper of his name, stomach flipping in fear when he didn’t answer.

The lack of any action or sound was incredibly disconcerting, because it could mean two things: either, he was absolutely stunned, the weight of what could have happened finally falling on him, or he had been already struck by hypothermia severe enough to be acutely in danger despite being a far cry from what Smith had looked like when Tony dropped him off.

When you finally laid your eyes on Steve’s face, your heart nearly stopped. His skin was scarily pale, his lips turning alarming blue, but that, while worrying, wasn’t surprising at all. What shocked you was his eyes; his pupils were blown wide, unfocused, misted over to the point that had he been lying on the ground, you’d swear he was--

Do not even think it. You can’t. He was going to be fine, he was alright, he just needed to warm up, he was not—He was very much alive, you were sure of it, he had to be. But the fact was, Steve couldn’t see you. He wasn’t seeing anything.

With horror, your gaze fell to his chest and in a split second, you realized that his whole body was still. Way too still. He wasn’t moving at all; he wasn’t even breathing. And yet, he was standing upright, almost as if his feet simply froze to the ground and that was the only reason why he hadn’t collapsed yet- But you knew, you knew that wasn’t possible, and despite the panic clawing at your throat, you were hundred percent certain that he wouldn’t be standing upright had his heart stopped, so how was he still standing?

It would be baffling if it wasn’t absolutely terrifying. Why was he so still? It literally looked as if he was frozen, as if-

He was frozen.

When it finally clicked, a choked noise erupted from lips, your heart shattering into thousand pieces; but your mind snapped into action, already working on solutions.

“Tony, get us as many of towels, blankets and those small heat packs, as you can manage  and give me full access to J. Make sure we have complete privacy. No one needs to see this.” Your throat was too tight for you to be able to speak on normal volume, but that was the least of your concerns, truly. You were sure Tony heard you just fine.

At least someone did.

“Kinky-?” Tony uttered, confused by your sudden escalated panic and the look you shot him – if looks could kill, he’d already be lying in a pool of his blood.

“Tony, get your ass fucking moving or I’ll swear to god I’ll strangle you in a way that will make Sam McDowell look like an amateur.”

Whether he knew the name of the prolific serial strangler or simply understood the urgency in your tone, he had enough wit to take his leave without further protest and with relative hurry, leaving you focus fully on Steve. Oh Steve. The absent brilliant blue of his irises had your stomach make another unpleasant somersault, your eyes filling with tears, nose tingling in anticipation of a full sobfest.

You so couldn’t afford that now. You couldn’t afford screaming either, but good god, did you want to – you wanted to stand in front of a mirror and scream your lungs out because how could it have not punched you straight in the face right away? How could you have not seen it coming?! You only had years of experience in profiling, with dealing individuals struggling with PTSD among other things. You only known Steve for years, knew what he had endured. You only learned about the sacrifice of Captain America in high school, several years ago.

God, the icy water. Could there be any more obvious and deadly trigger?

Of course Steve’s gaze was absent, his whole mind was. He wasn’t here with you, not in time and not in space; he was in the water. In a water so icy it was turning solid, trapping him for decades to come. People couldn’t breathe under water. People couldn’t breathe when frozen in a mass of ice.

Now you understood the reason for the absolute stillness of his whole body including his chest. Steve’s mind was locked so firmly into the memory that it either shut his body – because logically, he wouldn’t be able to breathe, let alone move in the prison he found himself in – or it latched onto his survival instinct, screaming at him not to breathe to prevent the water flooding into his lungs.

You fought your instinct to gag when the iron fist that realization hit you square in the stomach and sent bile up your throat.

So not the time. You needed him to snap out of it. And you needed it fast before you’d lose any more precious seconds.

“Steve?” you called out lowly, giving zero shit about the crack in your voice. “Stevie? You’re going to be okay, but I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?” you pleaded.

Grimacing, you released an involuntarily whimper when you got zero reaction. You pushed through the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to repeat the words in normal volume. The only response you got was the ever-present unnatural stillness; and Steve’s lips gradually turning bluer.

Your thoughts whirled in your head, mind desperately trying to latch onto any knowledge and experience you had with dealing with PTSD. You had never encountered someone with similar problem, never dealt with a flashback of this magnitude; Gideon had once taken the lead with a soldier trapped in his mind, murdering civilians for he believed them to be enemy soldiers, but that was Gideon. Jason Gideon, with his mind of steel and twenty-five years of experience. Jason Gideon, one of the founding fathers of the Behaviour Analysis Unit himself.

On your own, you were at loss with someone so far gone; but what you knew had to be enough. What you knew was that the only way of breaking Steve out of the prison his mind had created was to anchor him in reality, to appeal to all his senses.

The problem was that the majority of stimuli Steve was receiving from his senses matched the very environment of his flashback. The reality you would try to ground him in was his clothes soaking wet in freezing water and him being on a planewith a voice of a woman in his ears, trying to sooth his suffering. In other words, the reality was how he ended up buried in the ice in the first place.

Aware that you were shaking like a leaf yourself, jaw set so tight it was beginning to hurt, you were also painfully aware you couldn’t just stand there doing nothing with cheeks wet with tears and stare at the strongest person you had ever knew involuntarily depriving himself of oxygen. You had to do something.

Touching him was, frankly, a terrible idea; touching anyone with a flashback would be, because you’d be risking triggering a fight or flight response instead. Touching Steve and triggering the fight part in a supersoldier however, get him run on pure instinct? Now that could result in your broken neck or crushed windpipe really quickly. That idea truly didn’t sound appealing to you; and Steve would never forgive himself. You’d rather avoid that.

You took a deep breath, releasing the air shakily as your mind raced. Alright. Time. If you couldn’t ground him in space, you needed to ground him in time.

“Steve, GG, look at me. I’m Agent Jones – I’m Sparkles,” you said urgently, taking care to voice every syllable, daring to step an inch closer to him, hoping to fill his field of vision completely. “And I’m right here with you. There’s no water. Nothing’s stopping me or you from breathing.” You exaggerated an inhale and exhale, the warm air washing over his face, but without any effect. “There’s plenty of air, GG, for both you and me. Please.”

You dug your nails into your palms when nothing happened but your love staring back blankly, unnaturally stiff.

Steve could hold his breath for a long time – much more than an average human, his lung capacity unmatched – but he had also been drowning, so you really couldn’t count on that. You were running out of time. He was going to pass out. Sure, his breathing would kick in then and hell, maybe losing consciousness would be a blessing compared to this, but that sleep would not be peaceful and there was no telling what the wake-up call would look like other than really fucking unpleasant. The idea of him escaping one nightmare only to be find himself in another and then another until he woke up to the reality just as harsh, as if freshly having lost the whole world he knew all over again, chased fresh tears into your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Tony’s voice snapped you from your focus, your heart nearly bursting through your chest.

Jesus, how long had he been standing there?

Not important; and you didn’t have time to explain. Without thinking, you spilled the truth in as few words as possible, in the very same breath you tried to appeal to Steve again, your gaze never shifting from his pale face.

“He’s having a flashback, please leave, thank you for the blankets-- GG, please. Breathe with me, there’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise. I’m right here. Trust me. I can breathe just fine…”

You could not. You felt as if someone smashed your ribs with a crowbar for laughs and hit and hit until you couldn’t breathe in without blinding pain, but you knew, you knew it had to be nothing compared to what Steve was facing and you needed to get a grip, you couldn’t wallow in it and you couldn’t let the biting fear consume you. Not with Steve like this.

You were out of other options. Gulping, you oh so slowly lifted your trembling hand, settling it against Steve’s ashen cold cheek. You only got as far as your skin brushing his when a vice-like grip on your wrist stopped you, tearing your touch away and completely immobilizing your hand in the process.

He didn’t look at you as you hissed in pain; he was still far, far away, not moving an inch more than strictly necessary to stop you. But the jolt of pain into your wrist was accompanied by a loud gasp for air, his ribcage expanding right in front of your eyes.

A wet laugh escaped you. “Oh thank god.”

His fingers might as well be made of ice, just as freezing and just as rigid, clutching at you with all the might his body was probably capable off and it hurt. But at least it wasn’t your throat in his grip; you could both breathe. That was a tremendous win.

You still needed to anchor him further and actually bring him back, but the door to his mind were unlocked at least. Now you needed to appeal to all his senses, talk him through it, so he could open the door himself.

“Agent Jones? Do you require assistance?” Jarvis asked warily, no doubt reacting to your physical distress.

Rightfully so, because it was growing – if it was possible, Steve’s fingers dug further into your flesh, already making for a bruise, you were sure. Your fingertips begun to tingle, strange numbness spreading through your hand, but you were far too gone to give up now. You could handle this. You’d get Steve release you on his own.

“Not for now, J, thank you. We’re good—actually, Jarvis?” you called out lowly, the artificial intelligence instantly letting you know he listened. “Can you play me a song? I need to get Steve in the modern times.”

“Certainly. What would you like me to play, Agent Jones? Something contemporary?”

“Yeah. Contemporary and irritatingly ear-worming,” you muttered, mind racing.

A song Steve would hundred percent know, one his mind would without a single doubt identify as something modern. It was the biggest assholery of your mind to push the melody of Let It Go into the forefront of your overstressed brain before anything else, but a hysterical chuckle escaped you anyway, forcing you to lick off tears from your lips. It was the stupidest thing and the worst irony ever – because yeah, the cold really fucking bothered you now and it sure bothered Steve.

“Something way too overplayed on a radio, preferably without the words cold, snow, ice and such in it, J.”

It was only half a second later, when Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off came out the speakers.

Despite yourself, you snorted, fresh tears springing out. This time, you appreciated the irony. That was what Steve needed, right? He just needed to shake it off. He’d be fine.

Taking a deep breath, smiling through your tears and the growing pains in your wrist, you got to work.

You told him what he was hearing. The engines, the song, the heating running, your voice. You told him what he could see, your hair, the colour of your eyes, the Avengers logo etched onto your uniform and not an SSR one, the high-tech equipment you knew he could have never seen in his original time. You told him about the heat washing over his face and hair, your hand in his.

The owlish, painfully slow blink you elicited was a victory, bringing a smile to your face, drying your tears, bringing a softer and softer tone to your voice as you continued speaking.

“Steve? GG? I know it’s cold and I want to help you,” you said gently, trying to meet his gaze as it began to slowly roam to room; still absent, but not misted over anymore. “I could help you by taking off that wet suit, taking away the cold. But for that, I need you to let go of my hand so I can-“

You gritted your teeth and squeezed your eyes shut when the response you got was the exact opposite, as if he was mad at you for even suggesting it; you stifled the whimper at the prickling his grip sent through your arm. It was hard to tell whose hand was paler now; he definitely cut off your circulation and it was not a pretty sight. But you only had yourself to blame and you promised yourself you’d never do otherwise.

It was only when the numbness replaced the pain that it dawned to you where the problem might be.

“GG, please? I promise I won’t leave. I’ll stay right here with you. But I need you to release my hand so I can take that cold away. Only the cold, I swear.”

You nearly cried when the pressure on your wrist gradually eased, a shaky exhale sounding a lot like a whine escaping you. That was most definitely more than a bruise; you allowed yourself a few seconds of deep breaths, fighting off the dark edge in your vision.

Then, you grabbed after one of the small heating pads, snapping the thin metal plate inside to initiate a chemical reaction; in an instant, the thick liquid began to solidify and warm up. You placed in into Steve’s still open palm, hanging loosely by his side, enclosing his icy fingers around it despite the gloves getting in the way. You winced at the sharp pain shooting through your arm. Definitely more than a bruise. You repeated the process to warm up his other hand, finally going for the Velcros and zippers on the front of his suit.

Thankfully, the temperature Jarvis had set melted the microcrystals of ice around the metal, allowing you to undo it relatively easy. You felt Steve’s eyes on your now, his body slowly, oh so slowly getting on with the programme, fists unclenching when you needed to pull the sleeves over his hands without dropping the pads.

“You’re doing so good, Stevie, so good,” you praised him softly, loud enough to speak over the second playing of the song in the background. You were going to hear it for days, you were certain. And you’d hate it forever, too. “You’re a great help, GG, thank you.”

When he dropped the pads, you made a quick work of undoing his gloves too, before pushing new pads into his hands. His thick pants followed; the boots though, those were trickier.

Fuck this. You swiftly searched the transparent cabinets for scalpel, slicing the material through as carefully as you could with your still trembling hands. The water was still brutally cold against your fingers; and your wrist was beginning to throb. Almost there, you soothed yourself, wondering whether you’d manage to make Steve sit down so you could take off those boots and the pants… and underpants. You’d rather have him keep his dignity, but his boxer shorts were soaked through as well and way too close to his core… maybe if you placed enough heating pads around…

The truth was that despite your instincts screaming at you, you knew you didn’t have to worry that much about the physical effects of the low temperature on him. As awful as it sounded, you knew he could take the icy cold – that was part of the problem. It was the numbing memory constructing the perfect trap for his mind, the dissociation, that took precedence, as unusual as it was. And if you weighted the pros and cons…

Well. It wasn’t like his dick was going to freeze right off.

You stood to your full height, licking your lips as you faced Steve again. He was watching you now with surprising intent; you tried to give him a reassuring smile, raising your unharmed hand slowly enough for him to register and placed it on his ribs, almost under the armpit, ready to support him in case his muscles didn’t quite respond to his command as expected when you’d ask him to sit down.

What you didn’t expect was for him to crumble under your touch.

Over two hundred pounds of muscle was too much for your body to carry. When he leaned onto you without a single warning, his knees giving way, dropping his whole weight on your shoulders, you tumbled to the ground as you were without a real chance to slow down the fall. Your hands instinctively attempted too, but you knew you could add bruised backbone and your other wrist to the list on your injuries.

And while pain briefly shot through you very bones, you soon didn’t give a damn.

Not when Steve buried his face in the crook of your neck, arms gripping onto your body like as if it was a lifeline, harsh breaths and heartbreaking sobs escaping his lips, shaking his usually strong frame; but maybe that was just shivers from the cold. His skin was still almost icy to touch, his nose like an icicle as he pressed to your collarbone over your thermals, wet hair tickling your chin; his pants at his ankles, his boots, barely keeping together, still as his feet. You let them be as they were. Instead of stripping him further, you managed to reach for at least one of the pads and throw it into his lap, the blankets and towels too far away.

You enclosed Steve in a hug, achy hand carefully resting in his hair, the other running soothing circles on his back in a poor attempt to console him. His tears seeped into your shoulder and you never cared less for anything in your life; yours in return disappeared into his hair. Sweet nonsenses were spilling from your lips, drowned in his ragged sobs; you whispered his name over and over, his name and all endearments that came to mind and even remotely fit him. I’ve got you, love. Sweetheart, I’m here, sweet, I’m here… oh GG, my gentle giant, giant heart, I’ve got you, this will pass, I’ll help, I’ll help, I’ll help you stand up again. You’re doing so well. I’m so proud of you, baby, so proud…

The song, thank god, stopped playing as soon as Steve broke.

You could feel his body weighting a ton, every muscle weary, strung and feeble at once, and yet, it was his mind making for most of the weight he couldn’t bear. Feelings he normally hid behind a wall as tall as Tower of Babel so he could lead others into battle with a brave face now oozed off him and soaked your skin and mind. You could only imagine the onslaught of emotions and memories, reminders of all he lost, the ghost of having woken up in the new millennium for the first time looming over him.  

The way his fingers dug into your forearm, clutched at the flesh of your waist, it would hurt later; but at the moment, those long agonizing minutes that felt like an eternity, you barely felt it, instead consumed by overwhelming grief for the kindest and strongest soul you had ever met. The best man, breaking in front of your eyes and in your arms.

It took long minutes before you dared to move, just enough to reach for the blanket and strip him off the pants and shoes at least. You never went too far. The volume of your voice decreased along with Steve’s, along with the tremble of his exhausted body. He melted into your frame, falling asleep right there, held in your considerably weaker arms and you were grateful.

In a low voice, you asked Jarvis to notify Steve’s therapist – and yours, even if with less urgency. The worst of it was over, but you weren’t naïve as to think that just because the storm was over, there would be no damage and no need for restoration.

For now, you held Steve and tried to keep him warm, not blind to the fact his body combined with Jarvis’ service was already drying off the last piece of clothing he wore. You ran the fingers of your unharmed hand through the golden damp strands of his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead every now and then, hoping his sleep was dreamless.

Minutes or hours later, Natasha was the one to find you still curled one into other, gently telling you that everyone had already left the jet and that she’d send medics over in a few. You gave her a brave smile even as you were feeling everything but, your adrenalin wearing off and leaving you on the brink of breaking yourself.

When two medics rolled Steve away and you followed, refusing to move an inch farther from Steve than necessary just in case he’d unexpectedly wake up, a third one forced you to take an x-ray as your hand was already swelling.

As it turned out, there was a crack in both your ulna and radius, the mass, however strong, having been unable to withstand Steve’s strength. The swelling was bothering your nerves and your veins, hence the painful tingles and numbness; but in the end, they were just cracks. They’d heal.

Cracks actually usually hurt more than complete breaks, Doctor Jackson told you. You thought it was quite fitting. What Steve had experienced was not a break, for he was never broken; you weren’t certain he could be. It was but a crack; the foundation of who he was had so far been strong enough to withstand horrors unimaginable. And even though the cracks hurt like a bitch, you’d be there for him to help him through the pain.

The cracks in your bones could be solved by a few pills and rest; his would be a little more complicated.

But you’d help build him up again. You’d help him stand tall. Not for the sake of Captain America, the shining beacon of hope, the façade that could be speedpaint with shines of red, blue and white with ease. No, you’d help repair the real cracks for Steve, the gentlest of giants you knew, even if it would take more time and effort than an icon.

He was worth the trouble; even as you suspected that once he’d wake, he might have a thing or two to say about that. You’d convince him otherwise; you wouldn’t be alone.

And neither would he.

With a splint all over your forearm and wrist and a promise you would do a session in Doctor Cho’s cradle to speed the healing, you settled on the bed by Steve’s bedside, the surprisingly serene expression on his face and the gentle beeps of the heart monitor making for a warm hum of satisfaction in your chest.

You’d heal together. Of that, you were sure.

I was hearing words in black and white Twisted up inside my broken mind Outstretched dirty hands just like a child Hungry little fool, but you were mine (SYML – Body)

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

Notes (because the first aid trainer in me screams and severe hypothermia is a bitch): normally, first concern would most definitely be the cold, hypothermia and the impending arrhythmia (can be caused by the cold), but a) it was established Steve’s body can take it (proved the hard way) and b) his suit probably kept the absolutely worst away… PSA over.

ANYWAY. I hope you – well – liked it ("enjoyed" feels like a little too strong of a word for Steve’s suffering) 🥰 Thank you for reading! Feedback is life.

P.S. – this will likely be followed by a second part called Restoration, but I make no promises.

P.P.S. - if you wish to read a fluff about "Steve fell through frozen lake" situation, I recommend Frozen by @tilltheendwilliwrite 🥰

P.P.P.S. -  if you are a CM fan, know that the title is a loose reference to Emily's issues in the second half of season seven when she tries to re-settle down with the team and at Quantico.

[vickyvicarious]

"[Dracula] certainly left me under the impression that he would have made a wonderful solicitor, for there was nothing that he did not think of or foresee. For a man who was never in the country, and who did not evidently do much in the way of business, his knowledge and acumen were wonderful."

More evidence that Dracula's later actions are results of planning!

Indeed! Dracula's preparations for this trip are very thorough. I think that it would probably be correct to assume that he has a whole long-term strategy that, luckily, never gets put into play. I get the feeling a lot of his plan is banking heavily on people not knowing him. Not just what he is, but also who he is. This is what makes Jonathan's survival and Mina's willingness to reach out to Van Helsing so crucial, actually. Because without Jonathan recognizing Dracula in the street, the most Van Helsing and the suitors would have ever been able to do is stop vampire!Lucy. They had no idea where to look for the one who did that to her. It was a total dead end. Jack had clues, yes, but he really hadn't put them together at all - even after he was convinced on vampires, he was surprised to hear Jonathan say Renfield's behavior was linked to Dracula's. Even if people knew what Dracula was, without knowing who he is and where to find him, they couldn't do anything to stop him.

Similarly, Jonathan (and thus Mina) knew who Dracula was, but it took that outside confirmation that Jonathan's experience of what he was, really happened and was trustworthy. In this case, they may have sought confirmation of their own eventually even without linking up with the others (I can't picture Mina outright dismissing Jonathan's experiences, either by denying them altogether or by putting him in an asylum or what-have-you; I could see her trying to look into it on her own without telling him until she had some kind of proof/confirmation to offer one way or the other) - but it would have been way more cautious and gradual, and thus Dracula would have had time to get his boxes scattered more. They also lacked the knowledge of how to fight him off, and so even if they became convinced very quickly, without the others they would have to start the research from the beginning which would slow them down. And even then, they lacked the resources and manpower that the suitor squad gave them. It would all take a lot more time. And if Dracula had more time to establish himself... He'd have multiple houses which no one person knew the location of, he'd have his dirt boxes in each one. He'd have, eventually, other vampires risen as well, who could potentially create more vampires in turn. He might have the time/inclination to infiltrate society more once his boltholes were established, creating social pressure not to go after him or consequences for doing so.

Going after him in such a rush was necessary, because he'd get exponentially harder to defeat or even drive off as more time passed. And if people weren't already prepared to do so with appropriate knowledge and resources... it might be too late. And that's exactly what was supposed to happen. Jonathan was supposed to be left in the Castle, either dead or undead, and all his knowledge with him. Mr. Hawkins may have been a target as well, possibly even his other lawyers. Lucy, and his other eventual victims (pretty girl in Piccadilly, etc.), were supposed to succumb to what seemed like a mysterious illness without anyone being the wiser about the true cause of death. And it probably would have worked, without the coincidence of Jack knowing Van Helsing who was willing to explore all avenues, and Jonathan's incredible survival leading to Mina acquiring his knowledge and putting it to use. No one else knew what was threatening them. No one else knew who was threatening them. And Dracula, as we see in this quote, took plenty of additional precautions to ensure that he wouldn't raise any red flags without that prior knowledge (or at least not any actionable ones).

[abbofff]

I try anger management

masterlist

  I was almost reaching the cabin area when I ran into Luke.

  — There you are. Annabeth was afraid you might have been eaten by spiders. — He laughed softly.

  — Nah, I just went to feed her mom's pets dinner. — I smiled back to him.

  — Sorry I didn't came back to our cabin sooner. This first day has been kicking my ass, literally. Twice. —

  I must have poorly hidden my sarcastic tone because he really cracked a laugh.

  — Let me guess. Clarisse? — He looked at me with an knowing eyes.

  — Yes! I thought that I just caught her in a really bad day but everyone is so unimpressed about her being an asshole to me, who's done nothing to her but just exist too near to her that I'm thinking that she's just born a hater. —

  Luke smiled to himself, amused by my anger. He even rolled his eyes, like if he had heard this before.

  — Clarisse has fire in her. — He stated.

  — She's an arsonist then. —

  Surely with his age and experience he will think of her as a chihuahua instead of the idiot she is. 

  — Come on, let's get those things back before you break them with some exaggerated gesture or something. Dinner will be in half an hour. — He said.

  — You guys use a lot of dishes? Chiron said that Clarisse and I have to wash them tonight. — I asked once we were walking.

  — Oh so more quality time with your new friend, huh? Yeah, we are a lot of people, so expect a tiny mountain of them. —

  His smile never faltered. When Luke grows up and becomes an adult, he will have a lot of wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. That's for sure.

  Before I could continue complaining, we arrived at cabin 6. The door was open, revealing Annabeth in the frame of it and a burly black-skinned boy fixing the lock in just seconds. 

  The counselor from cabin 6 thanked him and the boy gathered his things. As he left, he passed by Luke's side and gave us a nod as a quick greet.

  — You lived. — Annabeth stated with her arms crossed and a harsh look.

  I came closer to her to give her the pencil holders, which she took still wary.

  — Unfortunately for us both, yes. — I let out a nervous laugh.

  Annabeth had a strange look in her face, I couldn't pinpoint an emotion, but I knew she was uncomfortable.

  — Sorry. — I said.

  Annabeth looked at her feet. I hope she understood all of the things I was sorry for.

  Luke put a hand on my shoulder and gave us both a warm smile.

  — I think we're all a little too tired for today. Come on, Ada, let's stop by our cabin before it's time for dinner. —  He said.

  Without further ado, we left. Inside the cabin, Luke gave me a couple of camp t-shirts to change into.

The dinner horn sounded and all the campers left their cabins to go to the dining hall.

  — You know, anger is seen as an obstacle and a burden, but if you use it well, it can be a stepping stone and a reason for something better. You can do good with it. — Luke said.

 

  I didn't know how to respond. I doubt that Annabeth told him what happened but he comprehended that something bad happened between us. He knew I had hurted Annabeth, his little sister, and he was trying to help me. I couldn't make excuses anymore, I needed to change.

  — But... how? I've tried a thousand times before and it hasn't worked. Hurting people doesn't make me feel better but I just can't help it. —

  — When you feel powerless, you try to bring others down with you to regain power. It is best to breathe deeply before acting to be able to think with a cool mind because this makes you foresee the consequences of your actions and put them in your favor. The thing is, power is something that comes from within, you are never helpless until you surrender. —  

  — That's... not such a terrible peptalk. — I said.

  — Right? I'm a master. —

  We giggled together as we finally reached the Hermes table.

  The dinner was kinda fun although I almost die of a heartattack when the girl on my side dropped unconscious, but Luke said she's a Hypnos kid with narcolepsy so she's ok I think. We even sang happy birthday to an unclaimed boy who was turning 16. And yes, the children of Apollo are the people who hit high notes in the happy birthday song. Gotta admit they are very good tho.

   — Did you ask for some luck for your journey tomorrow, Aaron? — Chris asked him once the birthday boy burned a big piece of cake in the bonfire. 

  The boy had straight black hair and very pale skin, he was very shy but super nice.

  — Can't say or else Tyche won't accompany me. — Aaron responded.

  — What kind of journey are you going to do? — I dared to ask.

  — A movie theater in town will play a rerun of The Incredibles, my favorite movie. So I plan to see it and get to know the city a little more. — He explained with a little smile.

  — That sounds fun, best wishes for you. Tyche and you are going to have a blast. — I smiled kindly to him, and he nodded in response.

  Maybe Annabeth was right after all, life was good around here. Aaron seemed very optimistic about his little adventure, so maybe if I train extra hard this summer I'll get to protect Percy and myself around the school year at the city.

  The rest of dinner passed quickly and everyone started to go to the communal campfire. When I got up from the table I heard a voice calling me.

  — Hi Will, what's up?— I asked him as he approached.

  — I forgot to give you this, it's ambrosia. Everyone needs to carry some around if something breaks out. — He said, handing me a little bag.

  Oh God, I forgot to give Argus the bag of coins. I'm kinda afraid of what he was going to do if he thought I won't ever pay him. He won't cuss me out but he could kick my butt.

  — Thank you Will. You are a great doctor. — I smiled and saved the bag into my pocket.

  — It's nothing, have a good night. —

  After he left, Luke walked me to the door of the small cabin where all the dishes teleported after they had been used.

  — Best wishes with your bestie, Ada. — He joked as he opened the door for me.

  — What do you think I prayed for? — I responded as I entered.

  It was half the truth. I prayed for Percy and Grovee coming here safely and for me to get out of here alive.

  I was greeted by at least ten stacks of plates taller than me. And I'm 1.60 m.

  I heard the door open again and turned to see it was Clarisse. I inspected if there was any trace left of our little disagreement. Her nose is healed but her knuckles are still hurt.

  — Hi. — I greeted awkwardly.

  She frowned and crossed her arms at my poor friendhood attempt.

  — Tell me one reason not to kill you right now. —

  — Well, I believe that "because it's illegal" is off the table. I would love to make a list of how unfavorable my assassination would be for you, but right now the most important one is that you'll finish this up faster and that Luke set me up my first real spar lessons for tomorrow so you will be able to beat me up while not breaking the rules. — I smiled with my lips pursed as I taped my fingers in the counter.

  — Bitch. — She responded oh so gracefully.

  — I'll wash them and you can dry them. — I said while I grabbed the first plate and she stood on my right to grab the rag.

  After a while, we were half way down the first pile of plate but boredom and the almost imperceptible way Clarisse's breath hitches every time she moves her hands brought me out of my dissociation.

  — So Will ran out of ambrosia or something? — I asked looking at her.

  — A broken nose is uncomfortable, but knuckles like this are a trophy. Scars makes the warrior. You wouldn't understand, pretty girl. — She said, with that signature killer look oh her.

  — Did you forgot already? You are "pretty girl", I'm "tough girl". — I smirked at her.

  — You deserve to be killed. — She said.

  I giggled. She really is a chihuahua.

  — What? It's iconic now, so no take backs. — She rolled her eyes at me and placed the dry plate on the clean pile.

  I admit that she reminds me a little of Nancy with all that fury that she carries inside her. The difference was that Clarisse's anger wasn't just a consequence of a hard life, it was an eternal flame that linked her to her divine heritage. I can't even imagine the great person that she would be if she managed to control it.

  I placed the bag Will gave me in the counter, but I didn't looked at her in the eyes.

  — You should heal them, they are going to get infected. — I said as I started washing a another plate.

I saw her hesitate a little before she looked away.

  — I don't need your pity. — she said in an irritated tone.

 

  — You don't have it. You think I didn't see the way everyone in your table, all great warriors, act around you? They look up to you, even your older siblings. Open knucles dont achive that. —

  — No, they don't, years of training do it. I'm the best of the best cabin of warriors in the entire camp, and I don't need a rookie to tell me what I should do. Your opinion doesn't matter to me, you are nobody. — She growled, towering over me.

  — Really? And here I thought you considered me special. —

  — If Chiron wouldn't have come to help you out, I would've have destroyed you, tough girl. You are no warrior. — She said.

  — I don't wanna be one! — I weakly screamed.

  I realized that I won't be able to put out fire with fire so I just took a deep breath and covered my face with my wet hands to cool down and dropped them after.

  — You are already a perfect warrior, you don't need to be hurting to prove it. — I stated, looking her deeply in her brown eyes.

  Her gaze softened and her mouth slightly parted, but didn't mutter a word. I let out a sigh in dissapointment and started to wash another plate.

  We didn't speak again until we finished all the tableware. I put the dishes in the cupboard while Clarisse was organizing the cutlery behind me. After I made sure they wouldn't fall when someone opens the door I turned around to look at Clarisse.

  — I believe that we are done. Bye, Clarisse. — I said as I reached for the door.

  — You are forgetting something.—

  I turned around again to see what she was talking about and she trew my ambrosia bag at me. I clumsily caught it  because I was distracted by the way Clarisse was standing, she had her arms crossed with her hands cupping her elbows, leaving on sight her healed knuckles. Her face didn't hold her stoic expression, it was softer.

  — You are going to swallow a fly, dumbass. — 

  I hadn't realized that I had opened my mouth a little in surprise but I quickly closed it in embarrasment.

  — Don't think much about it. I'll need my fists in shape if I wanna go for your other eye. — She explained.

  —  Yeah well, you were going nowhere with those knuckles, pretty girl. —

  — Well, I wanna see what kind of warrior you are tomorrow, tough girl. — She said with a smirk in her face as she walked past me and bumped my shoulder slightly on her way out.

 

  I saved the ambrosia in my front pocket with a smirk as I left the cabin.

  Everything was quiet now, only the far sounds of crickets and owls could be heard, so I didn't expect to see a little girl sitting in one of the logs close to the bonfire.

  — Hey, lass. It's a little bit cold around here. You sure you don't wanna be in your warm and comfy bed? — I asked in a kind tone.

  She lifted her sight from the fire to me and smiled. I'm almost entirely sure that she doesn't have glasses on but the fire it's reflecting in her eyeballs somehow.

  She said "he finally made a good one" or something like that, I didn't heard a thing with how soft she spoke but I don't have the chance to ask her now because she and the fire were gone after I blinked.

  My face dropped and I ran to the Hermes cabin. There was no fucking way I was about to deal with a ghost on my first day.

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

Hello. Okay, so I'm going to start this off with 'this might be an crazy thing to ask'.

I just saw your post from January about Nana Shimura, and I feel like I'm insane.

I'm legitimately not trying to be belligerent here, but can you please explain to me, in your opinion, why you think that it is Nana's fault for anything that has happened in relation to her? I'm just trying to understand, because I don't see how anything could necessarily be her fault solely. Specifically when talking about the 'creation' of Tomura.

If AFO had wanted to get his hands on someone from that bloodline, if only to be a bastard or whether it was for an actual reason, he would have done it regardless of what Nana's choices would have been.

And I can't help but notice the fact that all of this skips an entire generation. Everyone is so quick to blame Nana for doing what humans do, I.E. having a husband and a child, and I feel I'm not really qualified to speak on that front because I never have wanted children and I don't foresee that changing at this ripe old age I'm at, so I'm not even going to go into whether or not I think it was wrong of her to have a family.

I just find it very interesting that people are blaming Nana for something that happened literal years after her own physical death. Things that happened at the hands of her own son. Things that would have never happened had it not been for her son, that she had no part in.

It's just that the way I see it, that man had years upon years to come to terms with what his mother had done in order to protect him, but in the end he failed anyway. Whether he knew it or not he failed more than his own mother did. He failed and he gave his fucking own child over to this horrible person, and he couldn't have been completely ignorant of that, let's be honest. Whether or not what she did was the right choice, Nana gave him up for a reason, and the fact that he couldbut possibly put himself in his mother's shoes, after how many years? Is more telling of him than it is of her.

Even if what Nana did wasn't the right choice, then what WAS the right choice? How was there a wrong or a right choice when you could never possibly predict the outcomes of whatever you chose to do? In my opinion, people are trying to pin everything on Nana when all she was doing was doing the best she could with what she was given, and I think that's unfair and stupid.

I haven't been following you for long, but I've seen your posts for quite a while, so I actually do respect your opinion, which is why I am asking you.

I really don't like the way Horikoshi writes women as a whole in this particular story, and I don't know if that's a track record of his or if this is his only work or whatever, I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing. And that's a whole other post for another time. But I just find it really weird that everyone seems to be coming after Nana while simultaneously defending her son, when her own son is the one who is committing these atrocities long after she is dead?I find it very weird indeed.

Sorry for the long post, I have far too many feelings about MHA.

First of all, sorry for taking so long to answer and thank you for taking the time to write this ask 💜

Nana Shimura is one of my favorite bnha female characters because of how complex and flawed she is!!!

Here's the short answer:

Regardless of the actions of the people around her, Nana Shimura had a responsibility with her son as a mother and with the world as a hero.

We all have to make decisions without knowing the outcomes. That's life. It doesn't absolve us from the consequences of our actions. It also doesn't mean we are evil, but simply human. It is in our nature to make mistakes and make bad decisions sometimes.

It seems extremely harsh to judge a woman for doing her best against an enemy that was so much stronger than her, but that's the whole point of writing a character like Nana. There are no easy answers.

What was the correct thing to do instead of abandoning Kotaro? How could she have won against AFO? How could one (1) woman do both and do it well?

Nana isn't responsible for what Kotaro did so many years after she left him, but she did leave him. She had a son and then left him because she needed to be a hero. We don't know the exact circumstances of how she had Kotaro, but many fans ask why she had him if she knew her hero job would put him at such risk. Or why she chose to be a hero over being his mother.

Logically, we know it was to save the world. It's just that her choice isn't black and white. She caused a lot of pain in doing what she did, even if she contributed to a lot of joy.

AFO defeating her was inevitable. Like her OFA predecessors, they were alone on their journey. See, it took Deku an army to fight AFO and his influence.

There's also the fact that Nana took Toshinori in after she left Kotaro. Of course she only did it because the kid meant to sacrifice himself for the cause just like her, but it doesn't erase the parallel between Toshinori and Kotaro. One got to enjoy her company until she died because he had the right conditions to be her heir while the other lost her forever because she loved him.

Sadly, her love didn't save Kotaro and didn't make All Might's life easier.

Any person with responsibilities is a person with failures. That rings true for every single bnha hero and villain.

The way I see it, people either have a reason to hate her or not.

Some dislike her 'cause she left Kotaro. Some are unreadable in their judgment and hate her just because she is a woman. Some just dislike her general writing or don't enjoy her type of character.

At the end of the day, Nana Shimura is still a tremendous female character. She inspired All Might himself (he who is hailed as the best hero of all times). She faced AFO alone and she died mocking him with a smile. She sacrificed her happiness and all the things dear to her in order to save the world. Nana passed down OFA and kept hope alive in a time full of violence and chaos. She is one of the best female pro-heroes to have existed and the only female OFA user. He was freaking jacked with muscle because her quirk was float.

Her flaws depict her greatness and the weight on her shoulders. Nana Shimura, everyone.

[abbzworld]

Devotion

This was written for a Secret Santa event over on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy your present, @snorpy-fizzlebean! Sorry that it’s late. ^^;

Also, a minor disclaimer; I’ve never seen Twin Peaks and know basically nothing about it. So I was just making some things up at some parts of the story. Lol

Anyways, please enjoy!

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

Grump Peaks was a show that could be very confusing for Chandlo.

It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t enjoy it. The special effects were usually quite good, especially in the later seasons, and in his opinion, the characters with their struggles and relationships with each other were the best and most interesting part of the show.

He just had some trouble following along with some of the story.

For example, he didn’t understand why the bad guy was planning on unleashing a bunch of supernatural horrors onto Grump Peaks. Sure, he’d had a terrible childhood when he lived there with his alcoholic father and this was his twisted idea of getting revenge. But why didn’t he realize that his plan would also put the entire world in danger? He was supposed to be an intelligent grumpus, after all!

When he asked about it, Snorpy explained to him, “Grizby’s problem isn’t that he’s unintelligent. His problem is that he winds up getting hyper-focused on his goals to the neglect of everything else, including any common sense. Or rather, his lack thereof.”

Chandlo could understand what Snorpy was telling him, but he was still confused as to why the bad guy let things get this bad.

“Unfortunately, that happens sometimes. Take Floofty, for example. They’re trying to help grumpus kind so their goals are obviously much different from Grizby’s, but in a way, Floofty also struggles with seeing whether what they’re doing is a good idea or not. That’s why they take so many risks and don’t always foresee the consequences of their actions. I mean, just look at what happened on Snaktooth! They almost decapitated themselves just to see if their head would come back like their leg did!”

Chandlo gently wrapped an arm around his shoulders to silently comfort him as Snorpy sighed. “I am glad that they’re getting better, however. They still have a long way to go, though.”

Chandlo nodded and said, “Yeah, but that’s probably true of all of us.”

Snorpy silently nodded before he glanced at the television and got excited. “Ooh, I love this part! It’s when Aless and Ozwin join together to stop him!”

Chandlo softly chuckled, keeping his arm around Snorpy’s shoulders as they both continued to watch what was going on in the show.

In all honesty, this was the real reason he watches it despite it not entirely being his thing. He enjoys seeing how invested Snorpy always gets despite having already seen this show dozens of times.

Ever since they were kids, he’s loved Grump Peaks. He meticulously analyzes every frame and shot of the show, has very little he actively criticizes, and even though the show got an abrupt ending because of the Grumpinati, as he believes, it’s still his favorite show of all time.

Chandlo might not fully understand it sometimes, but hey, if it makes Snorpy happy then he’s happy.

Besides, Snorpy was always so adorable the more interested he gets in something. His eyes go wide with excitement, he gets a little smile on his face and Chandlo can tell that he’s committing everything to memory.

Even though he already knows what’s going to happen.

Eventually, the credits of the final episode started to roll and Chandlo yawned as Snorpy began to rant, “I still cannot believe that this show got cancelled! I mean, we never really got a conclusive answer about Aless’ and Ozwin’s relationship, and the overall conclusion was incredibly rushed! They needed at least another season to properly conclude the story but the Grumpinati wouldn’t allow that, would they?!”

Chandlo chuckled as he rubbed his boyfriend’s back. “Easy there, Snorpy-dawg. You don’t want to get too worked up, right?”

Snorpy sighed. “No… I’m sorry Chandlo. I don’t mean to get so emotional; it just really bothers me that Grump Peaks wasn’t given the finale that it truly deserved.”

Chandlo smiled at him. “No need to apologize, bro. I know how much this show means to you. It might not be my thing like it is yours but I can understand your frustration.”

Snorpy sighed again and smiled at him. “Thank you Chandlo. Truly.”

“Aw anytime, Snorpy!”

Snorpy then yawned himself before stretching a bit. “Ugh, what time is it?”

Chandlo looked at a nearby clock. “It’s almost 10 pm.”

“My word, I didn’t realize it was getting so late. We should probably head to bed then!”

Chandlo nodded. “Yeah, I agree. We both have to go to the gym in the morning so we can’t afford to be too tired.”

Snorpy agreed and so they stood up, yawning again, before they shuffled over to their shared bed.

Once they were settled in, they cuddled together and said their good nights.

About five hours later, however, Chandlo awoke to Snorpy softly whimpering.

Groggily, Chando quietly asked, “Snorpy? Hey, are you alright?”

Snorpy didn’t answer and now the whimpers were getting louder.

“No… No! Don’t eat them!”

And then it dawned on Chandlo that he was having a nightmare.

Unfortunately, they both got them frequently ever since they escaped from Snaktooth. The knowledge that the bugsnax they were eating were actually parasites that could’ve – and would’ve – killed them was quite traumatic for them.

Chandlo had no idea what would’ve happened if he’d lost Snorpy. And he was sure that Snorpy had those same thoughts about him. And considering he was already anxious even before he went to Snaktooth, said trauma and anxiety often manifested in the form of nightmares.

And unfortunately, despite how much he wished it, Shellsy was unable to concoct an herbal solution to make the nightmares go away because such a thing didn’t exist. She only knew how to allow someone to go to sleep easier, not actually banish dreams altogether.

So both Chandlo and Snorpy, as well as presumably the rest of the Krew, just had to wait and hope that the dreams would eventually fade on their own.

But regardless of that, Chandlo wasn’t going to just lie there and let Snorpy suffer on his own. He would never do that.

And so, he gently wrapped an arm around Snorpy’s waist, pulling him close.

“Shhh… It’s alright, Snorpy. I’m here.” He gently murmured into his ear, kissing his forehead. It took a few minutes of gently caressing his back, but eventually the whimpers stopped and Snorpy began to breathe easily again.

Still, Chandlo didn’t let go as he once again drifted off to sleep.

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

The next morning, they were at the breakfast table, debating on what to eat that wouldn’t remind them too much of the bugsnax. Apples and bananas were off the table, as well as anything like a cinnamon bun. They eventually settled on cereal.

As they ate, Snorpy said, “Thank you, Chandlo.”

“Hm?”

“Well…” He sighed. “I was having a nightmare last night. But I soon felt a warm and comforting presence enter my subconscious. And the nightmare left me afterwards.” He then smiled. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

Chandlo smiled and chuckled. “Guilty as charged.” He then sighed. “I know how intense those nightmares can get, so I didn’t want you suffering through one alone.”

Snorpy nodded. “Well, thank you. It’s been tough, but I’m glad that you’re here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Same here, Snorp-dawg.”

After they’d finished their breakfast, they settled down on the couch as they had half an hour before they had to leave.

They didn’t watch anything, though. They simply cuddled against each other and talked about their plans for the day.

“…and I’m learning how to do pull-up’s better. It’s killer on the arms and abs, but I’m slowly but surely getting there.”

Chandlo smiled as he hugged Snorpy. “I’m proud of you, Snorpy. You’re doing such a good job.”

Snorpy blushed. “Ah, heh heh… Thank you.”

“And I’m really impressed with how fit and healthy you’ve gotten as a result of working out more!” Chandlo continued, finding it adorable how flustered Snorpy was getting. “I’m really proud of you, bro!”

Snorpy giggled, blushing even harder. “Awww, stop. You’re making me blush…”

Chandlo smirked at him. “I know. And I think it’s adorable.”

Snorpy made a bunch of flustered noises as Chandlo chuckled and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you.”

Snorpy giggled again before saying, “Ah, yes. I love you too.”

They both smiled at each other before Snorpy cleared his throat and asked him, “So erm… what do you plan on doing at the gym?”

“Well, I plan on shooting some hoops. It’s fun competing against the other grumps there.”

Snorpy chuckled. “That’s nice to hear. I hope that they don’t get too competitive, though.”

“No, they don’t.” Chandlo reassured him. “It’s all in good fun.”

Snorpy nodded. “Good. I’d hate for someone to get mad at you over a basketball competition. I’ve heard how defensive grumpuses can get over sports and related events…”

“I understand what you mean, but that hasn’t happened.” Chandlo smiled at him, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “And besides, I was taught to always have good sportsmanship. My mother always made sure to teach me that as a kid.”

Snorpy nodded. “Yes, I remember that.”

“Also, it’s important to know your limits. I was always pushing myself too hard and I still struggle with that now. But rest is just as important as how many push-ups you can do in one sitting. Eggabell taught me that!”

Snorpy smiled. “I’m sure she did. She is a doctor after all!”

Chandlo grinned. “Yeah, bro! I owe a lot of my know-how to her! And to you, of course. You’ve always been there for me and your inventions are really helpful!”

Snorpy giggled again. “Heh, thank you.”

For the new few minutes, they simply sat there, cuddling each other as Snorpy listened to Chandlo’s heartbeat.

Eventually, however, they had to get up to go to the gym.

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

“Let’s see… water bottles?”

“Check.”

“Towels?”

“Check.”

“First aid kit?”

“Check.”

“And we’re both dressed in our workout gear… Awesome dawg! We’re ready to go!”

“Right behind you, love.”

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

The End

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

I hope you enjoyed this story. If you did, feel free to tell me! And if you have any constructive criticism for me, you can tell me that, as well. Thank you!

[alien-hybreed]

THE TANGLED WEB

Former Super Villain turned Hero, Sabre Wulf, desires power above all else. So when the rest of the Protectors leave to thwart Disastro's latest evil scheme, why shouldn't she help herself to their stockpile of inventions? The spider hero, The Recluse, has stayed behind to keep an eye on her. And maybe hit on her.

Both get more than they bargained for when Sabre Wulf accidentally releases a mutagens gas that exaggerates their animal DNA.

Cause and effect. Action. Reaction.

Every choice has consequences beyond the foreseeable future, Sabre Wulf and Recluse aren't the only ones whose fate hangs by a thread...

Sabre Wulf strode confidently into the centre of the lab, her trademark cavalry sabre drawn and pointed at the ready. The motors in her power armour quietly thrumming as they idled. Bright chrome shin and leg pads interlocked over her quilted undershot that showed between the armour's gaps and her exposed midriff. Her forearms, chest and shoulders sported similar chrome armour, lined with glowing blue lights that twinkled in the gloom. Both her shoulders and her helmet, were molded in the shape of wolf heads. A deliberate choice in homage to her beloved mythological beast, Cerberus. A long mane of ash-blonde hair jutted from the back of her helmet, swaying gently as she looked around.

Good. Nobody here. No sign of detection.

The one-time villain turned vigilante Anti Hero had only recently joined the ranks of the Heroes Society, but they'd been so quick to accept her as one of them. Fools. If she were a kinder soul, she'd almost feel bad for the betrayal she was committing. Alas, even before she first donned her costume, Samantha Worgren had always been an incredibly clinical, independent woman. Alliances were temporary and if you didn't have an advantage, you seized it or risked being left behind. That's why she was here, to seize an advantage.

Everyone knew it was one of Paladin's secret formulas that had given super powers to at least two members of the Heroes Society. Combining it with her own canine themed powers would surely make Sabre Wulf even faster and stronger. With that kind of power, she'd be a match for some of the team's heavy hitters and maybe then, they'd finally start respecting her. She could be the best of them all.

Taking off her helmet, she shook her head, letting her hair spring out from the helmet's confines. Her amber eyes glowed with an almost primal hunger as she smiled, exposing her exaggerated canines. One of these vials on the table had to be what she was looking for...

"What are we doing in here, Pup?" Came a voice from behind her. The Recluse. Her eyes went wide as she spun on the spot to face the spider themed hero. As she did her sword crashed through the vials on the table, sending the beakers crashing across the polished concrete floor.

"Taking what's mine." She snarled defensively "This power isn't yours to withhold, now stand aside!" Raising her sword to point squarely at him as he dropped from the ceiling, rappelling down on a silky rope like an aerial performer. "Yeah, that's not going to happen, Pup" he replied, matter of factly. His body visibly tensing beneath his black and orange spandex. Sabre Wulf growled as she stepped forward, her sharp teeth bared as a threat. Both of them, completely oblivious to the spilt chemicals amongst the broken glass beginning to sizzle and bubble as they mixed.

"And who are you to deny me?" She growled. Everyone knew Recluse's story. A happy accident gave him his powers and charisma made him an instant success. Sabre Wulf had spent her life resenting people like that - who had only ever been given their rewards, never truly working to earn them like she had. Fighting Recluse would almost be cathartic.

"No, I mean neither of us are leaving. I sealed the doors as I followed you in" retorted the Recluse. Bastard, she could see him smiling beneath his mask. Why? "I was hoping we could have a moment. Alone." He continued. He was being coy. Sabre Wolf was cold but she wasn't oblivious. He'd hoped to make a pass at her. Recluse's promiscuity was well known, especially with the stronger, emotionally distant members of the team... or it was a ruse to lower her defences.

"Well, uh, I-" she went to respond when a loud fizzing interrupted her. Turning to look, she saw one of the cracked tubes on the ground had begun to leak. Thick gouts of bright green gas gushing from the fracture while liquid gas dripped into the mixture on the ground, causing thick purple steam to rise from the chemical cocktail.

"Oh shit. No no no, we can't be in here with that!" Proclaimed Recluse as he moved to cover his mouth. Sabre Wulf's mind raced. As far as she knew, at least one other hero had inhaled gas like this before gaining their powers... further empowering Recluse was unintended, but it could work in her favour. She could use it as leverage, hell she could even indulge his advances and entrap him...

With a wry smile, Sabre Wulf took a backwards step into the gas cloud.

"Well then, Spider. What are you going to do about it?" She said with a chuckle as she took in a deep breath of the cloud. Almost instantly her face began to blush and a thin bead of sweat dripped from her forehead.

"Sabre... Sam... I don't think..." stammered the Recluse between several dry coughs as the cloud began to waft around him.

"That's it. Don't think. Maybe I wanted you here for this..." she purred, her voice dropping to a husky growl as she backed up to the table, sheathing her sword and bracing her gloved hands on the table's edge. Several more deep breaths of the gas and it felt like her lungs were on fire. Yet, she felt WIRED. A surge of adrenaline was coursing through her that almost made her dizzy. It was like being drunk and supercharged all at once.

"Don't... think..." mumbled The Recluse as he staggered forward, dropping to his knees in front of her. He pulled his mask off in one smooth motion. His short black hair messy and unkempt, his cool blue eyes eagerly staring up at her.

"Don't think I can... just wanna..." he moaned pitifully as his hand pawed at his thighs and the rapidly swelling bulge between them. Sabre Wulf blushed as her legs fidgeted. Luring the would-be whistle blower into a honeypot was all business. But seeing the scruffy cuteness the Recluse possessed beneath the mask... this could be more pleasure than business after all. She could already feel her eagerness as her thigh armour began to chafe.

"Oh you can, spider..." she moaned softly, tugging at the straps on her armour. "There's nowhere else to go... nothing else to do... just us..." Pulling seductively at the belt on her left thigh's armour until the plate fell to the ground with a clang. Biting her lip, she ran her forefinger across the zip on the crotch of her undersuit. Recluse stifled a groan as he reached for his bulge.

"Go on, Spider. Show me yours and I'll show you mine"

This is absurd, she thought to herself as she looked down at him. Pathetic. Groaning and panting as he ran a hand through his hair, clawing at his scalp. The other hand fumbling with his hardened cock as it strained against his suit. I'm living a goddam porn parody, yet this gas is making me feel so goddam alive. She mused. I'm going to be so fucking raunchy this man is never going to think of anyone else when he cums. She clutched her forehead and chuckled as the intrusive thoughts swirled in her. It had been too long since she'd enjoyed herself - since she had really, truly been satisfied. And she wanted nothing more right now than to take that from him.

With a loud grunt, Recluse seized her exposed thigh with his free hand as he began jacking at his bulge. Pressing his head against her crotch, he let out a prolonged groan. She could feel his lips grazing her undersuit and it made her shiver. The air around them was thick with purple and green gas that they were both eagerly huffing. Leaning back onto the table, she began unclipping her chest plate. It felt tight and she ached for freedom.

Looking down at her splayed legs, she saw him standing between them, clutching his bulge. His eyes seemed a little darker, lending them a glint that made her insides quiver as his other hand fidgeted with his crotch zipper.

"Don't be shy." She chuckled.

Recluse needed no further encouragement. Scrambling onto the table to straddle her, he unzipped his suit to let every inch of him spring forth. Sabre Wulf giggled and licked her lips as she cast her chest plate aside. Recluse couldn't wait for her. He was already furiously jacking at his engorged cock, throwing his head back and crying out as his hand rapidly slid up and down his shaft. Sabre Wulf began to pant like a dog, her tongue feeling long and heavy as it hung from her mouth.

Recluse looked down and moaned at the sight of her like this. So needy for him, it was driving him completely feral. Scrambling for the zip on the high neck of her under suit, he unzipped her down to just below the navel.

"Oh Spider, you've caught me, whatever will I do?" She pouted playfully, pressing her chest up to tease the swell of her exposed breasts. "You gonna web me up, huh?" She growled.

At that, a thick stream of cum spurted across her tits and collarbone. Recluse grunted and moaned as he stared down at her. She smiled up at him, tongue hanging out as she let out a long, soft mmmm of satisfaction.

"Hrrr... fucking..." he panted, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, his eyes looking almost black from Sabre Wulf's angle as he seized a fistful of her hair, pulling her head towards his twitching, cum-streaked cock. "Come get it"

Sabre Wulf grinned as she moved her hands to his hips and gave the underside of his shaft a long, affectionate lick. Recluse's loud grunts of satisfaction was all the indication she needed to do it again. Her tongue lashed against the throbbing member again and again, her gloves squeaking as she tightened her grip on his thighs before taking his length into her mouth. She grunted as his hips bounced forwards, her gloves straining as her hands moved to the rump of his ass, squeezing tighter as they seemed to shrink around her hands. For a minute, she hungrily lapped at his cock, her head bobbing back and forth until she felt a cold chill across her nethers as her suit slipped all the way open. Looking down, she could see recluse had undone the final stretch of her undersuit. His gloved hand moving to gently rest over her mons, rubbing slowly as he bit his lip and stared intently at her cunt.

"Can this puppy beg?" He growled, sliding a finger between her folds. "Mmmmph... do it" she gasped between mouthfuls of his cock. "C'mon, spider, please"

Just like that, he was in her. She fought to keep her grip strong and his cock in her mouth but at several points she sputtered and coughed or gagged as his fingers rapidly swirled through her and around her clit. She cried out as she fell back onto the table, thick strands of saliva trailing between the cock and her mouth as her breath came in sharp bursts. Releasing her hold on him, she clawed at her face as the tips of her gloves began bursting open. Her fingernails had become long, black and hard as they clawed at her neck and jaw. She thrashed as the Recluse ruthlessly overstimulated her clit.

"Don't... waste... this time..." her voice trailing off into a canine whine as her ears twitched. So preoccupied were they, neither her or Recluse thought it was weird her ears had moved to the top of her head, becoming fluffy and triangular. Recluse moaned unintelligibly as he laid his cock in her mouth and jerked it until her lips and throat were splattered with his hot, white seed. At that, he collapsed onto his side next to her and rolled onto his back, his hand still firmly clasped around his cock as his erection refused to subside.

Sabre Wulf growled as she rolled to face him. It was no trick of the light. His eyes were pitch black. On top of that, several parts of his suit were tearing open to let clusters of coarse black hairs protrude. And his cock. Her eyes widened at the sight of that magnificent, unrelenting cock... By this point the fumes were so intoxicating that all logic and reason had been abandoned by either of them. Instead, Recluse's changes stirred a primal instinct in the canine sword fighter that need to be sated urgently.

"Stay down" she commanded, rolling onto him. Her lips roaming his neck and jaw with several sloppy kisses as she moved to mount the Recluse. With a toothy grin, she seized his wrists and pinned them behind his head as she straddled him. Her hips were already moving, his cock lightly grazing her slit as she quickly worked her way onto him. With a synchronised moan, she sat on his lap, burying his shaft in her sloppy, wet pussy.

"You wanted my cunt? Take it. Take it all!" She growled as she began pounding her hips to his. Her undersuit felt so tight as her body seemed to swell and strain. Even without discernible irises, she could see the adoration in his eyes as he stared up at her.

"Needed... this..." he moaned as he threw his head back, grunting as he found the strength to begin pushing his hips up against hers.

"Shut up" she barked, leaning down to bite and suck at his neck. As she did, she swiped at what glass canisters remained on the table. The gas made them feel good. Made them want more, she had to have more, drive him wilder, make him cum harder, everything had to be more.

The glass shattered on the floor and thick plumes of pink and blue gas swirled around them, mingling with the heavy green haze filling the lab. Recluse struggled against her grip as she aggressively licked and nipped at his throat. She instinctively needed to establish dominance and he wanted her to have it. For now.

"Good... fucking... pet..." she panted in his ear between licks, occasionally pausing to listen to the wet slapping sound of their hips colliding, his cock firmly wedged in her. With a canine growl she released his hand and began pulling her undersuit wide open. The tight material and the belts on her armour felt like it was digging into her skin. Almost reverently, Recluse laid his hands on her ass and pulled down hard. Sabre wulf yipped and howled as she felt him press deeper into her aching pussy, her undersuit tearing in her grasp. Her armoured boots were beginning to buckle and crack as her toes began to resemble her hands, long, black claws sprouting where her nails should be. She tensed her shoulders as the need to howl long and loud welled in her chest.

She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth and rode hard. She could hear fabric ripping, heavy breathing, wet slopping and low growls coming from them both as she wrestled with the urge to surrender what little self control she had left. Then his cock hit her at just the right angle and she was gone. Collapsing onto Recluse with a long low howl, her arms and feet scrambling and scratching at the table as a mind numbing orgasm overcame her senses. She felt his thrusts become frantic, irregular. There was warmth on her, slopping from her. He had cum in her. She never let anyone do that, she couldn't let him do that. Yet instead, as he tried to pull out, she snarled and barked, grabbing his cock and holding it in place as it emptied into her.

"Mine..." she snarled, fangs bared as she looked down at him. Something seemed different, though she couldn't quite pick what. A testament to how heavily influenced by the gas she was, failing to notice that blotches of his skin was turning grey and hard. Or the squirming in the torso of his suit. She just laughed and pressed him in deeper.

Recluse wailed and clutched at his face as his lips and jaw began to bulge. His throat seemed to spasm as several loud cracks signalled the rearrangement of his jawbone. Clutching his face as his skin turned dark grey, his hair standing on end as it became thick bristles like what was sprouting from his suit.

"Mmmmine..." he snarled as he moved his hands to her waist. "Mine!"

Sabre Wulf gasped with excitement as he rolled her onto her back and seized her by the throat. She moaned happily as he loomed over her, his hips slamming into hers as he began thrusting again. She relaxed, stretching out beneath him as he pounded her against the table. Her hands and felt better as her gloves and boots gave way, letting her paws swell to twice their previous size. Had they always been paws? Was the gas doing this? It felt so good, so natural! Breathing in deeply, she welcomed her new form as eagerly as she welcomed her lover.

"Good dog..." growled Recluse as his suit began to stretch and fray. He was so much bigger and stronger than before, no wonder he overpowered her so effortlessly.

"You gonna beg for more? Huh? That good for you, Pup?" Rasped the Recluse as a series of fangs and appendages began sprouting from his mouth. "Tell me it's as fucking good for y-you as it is for m-meeee..." he hissed, fangs wiggling with each syllable.

"Mmm... woof woof" cooed Sabre Wulf as she folded her legs around his waist and squeezed. Recluse let out a bellowing roar as his cock erupted inside her. Sabre Wulf squeezed her legs tightly holding on for dear life. Her whole body shook as he gyrated against her, his suit ripping at the back as a pair of long spider legs began to sprout from it. He gasped as he moved one hand to steady himself, his claws screeching against the table as they dug into its surface. The other hand remained clamped around Sabre Wulf's throat as she huffed and panted her way through her own climax. She barely even noticed as Recluse pulled free of her grip, his cock taking longer to slide free thanks to the three extra inches it had grown while inside her. A thick spray of cum spurted from his cock across her chest and thighs as he did, neither of them second guessing the volume or velocity of it as it dripped from her body. She just smiled, panting as her body urged her to do it again.

Lying on her side, Sabre Wulf huffed and panted. A thin dribble of cum dripped from her slit as her hips trembled. Her nose grew cold and her face felt like it was growing tight as her mouth and nose began jutting forward. She wriggled and moaned as she felt her undersuit itching around her back, arms and legs. Without even asking him, Recluse knew what to do.

Stepping back off the table, he single-handedly grabbed her by the waist and rolled her onto her front, getting her ass to line up with his cock. He'd already begun stroking it again with his free hand, his two new spider limbs rubbing each other's tips out of instinct before raking across her back and legs. Sabre Wulf howled as she felt her undersuit ripping apart as the serrated edges of the spider legs roamed her. Sitting on all fours, she shook her body, shaking free the tattered remains of her suit to reveal the changes her body had undergone.

Thick, ash-blonde fur lined her back, forearms and thighs. Her muscles were growing more prominent, her limbs longer as the gas exaggerated her canine infused DNA into something new. She barked and yelped as Recluse seized her ass, growling softly as she felt his drool pattering across her ass cheeks, thick and gunky like his cum. She looked over her shoulder at him, her face almost completely turned into that of a wolf as she panted, winking encouragingly at the seven foot tall man-spider behind her. Recluse waggled his fangs as he pulled her ass towards him.

"Mmm mmmate" he clicked, squeezing her ass and spreading it to admire her cunt as the tip of his cock hovered close to it.

"Fill... Heat... Fuck." Barked Sabre Wulf, her amber eyes wide open and glazing over. She was going out of her mind and loving every second of it. This new body felt so powerful, her humanity was little more than a painful limitation by comparison. Recluse growled as he thrust into her once again, her body tensing as the large organ pressed deep into her slit. She growled happily as she felt him pulling her up from the table.

It took a moment for her to realise, but something was looping around her wrists and ankles as his spider legs rubbed against her. Webs. He was pulling her up towards the ceiling by binding her limbs in webs he'd begun spinning. She wanted to bite her lip but all she could manage was a low whimper as her snout hung agape, tongue lolling out the side as she drooled heavily. Something had begun swishing to and fro just above her ass, it tickled and seemed to make her lover growl and thrust harder as it moved. Looking over at a nearby window, she could see a tail had unfurled from the base of her spine and was happily wagging back and forth. She huffed with excitement, pressing her hips back up against her mate, squealing as she began to climax again. As she did, another tail unfurled from her backside, all while the surveillance camera adjusted to keep them both in focus.

* * *

Paladin paused mid flight as the red warning light blinked in the corner of his heads up display. The jet thrusters on his silver power armour screaming as he slowed to a hover.

"What in the... hell's teeth!" He exclaimed as he opened the notification, immediately assailing himself with a graphic live feed of what was going on in the secure lab back at HQ. There appeared to be a vaguely man-shaped, hairy spider hanging from the ceiling by a mass of webbing. Beneath him was a woman. Or what might have once been a woman. Her body was sprouting long, thick ash-blonde fur, her limbs elongating and twisting to look more canine like her face. Her legs were spread wide, thick streams of white semen oozing from where the spider's oddly human cock was stuffing her engorged pussy. Paladin felt sick to his stomach.

"Team... we uh. Need to divert, some... thing... is uh, up at HQ" he proclaimed over the comms. Already he good see the red hot trail of Captain Meteor streaking through the air towards him.

"What's the sitch, boss?" Crackled Turbo over the radio. Paladin looked on in horror as the wolf-woman screamed in ecstasy, a thick torrent of cum gushing from her as she sprouted another tail and looked over her shoulder to stare directly into the camera. Her amber eyes seeming to bore into Paladin's with a ferocious stare.

Captain Meteor rapidly closed the distance between herself and Paladin, stopping almost instantly with a sonic boom that rumbled through his armour. The tall, muscular woman flexed, her exposed biceps rippling as bright, orange energy crackled around her shiny black boots, gloves and equally shiny, black leotard. She was primed for a fight, Paladin had been too. His sudden pause clearly troubled her.

"What's up, Robocop?" She called out, her brow creasing beneath her domino mask as she tried to get a read on Paladin's body language.

"Cap... Hayley. Do you know where Sabre Wulf and Recluse were today?" Crackled Paladin's voice from the speakers in his helmet, low and solemn as if he already knew the answer.

"Uhh, HQ. Why? They not there?" Replied Captain Meteor, cocking her head to one side.

"I sure hope not" replied Paladin. On the live feed, the she-wolf was breaking free of her bonds, arching back up to sit in the spider's lap as it begun to reapply webbing to her arms. Already she was rolling her hips back and forth, making its cock grow fat and pulsing as she smiled at the camera.

* * *

"Uh, uh, uh, ah! ARGH! AH! AROOOOO!" howled Sabre Wulf as thick streams of cum rained down from her throbbing cunt, it's puffy lips squeezing the cock as it rocked back and forth. She had already sprouted a seventh tail, happily wiggling her ass in Recluse's lap as she felt him swell again.

"Whaaaat... happennnn... to usssss" he rasped in her ear, his fangs deftly grazing her neck as he nuzzled her gently. She growled softly, tugging at the webs around her arms and legs as she leaned back against his heaving chest.

"Mate... breed..." she huffed, staring down at her engorged vagina and the cock pulsing in it. Down her stomach she could see secondary and tertiary breasts beginning to swell from beneath her fur.

"Have to... breed..." she rasped, her eyes widening and pupils dilating as Recluse immediately began to thrust at the very mention. She barked as his cock lanced deep into her womb, her body shaking as she felt it writhing within her. She had changed so much already, mentally and physically, the idea of children was once unthinkable... but now? Now that she had her mate, she desired family, motherhood, she desired more of everything this was. Recluse's fangs lightly grazed her neck as he struggled to keep himself from biting down.

"Do it" she moaned.

Immediately, his hands gripped her thighs tighter than ever before as his fangs slid into her flesh. Sabre wulf howled as her pupils began to swell. It was like her veins were on fire. She could feel the venom coursing through her, but instead of fear, she felt relief. She felt satisfaction. Like she had satisfied some new instinct or primal urge. But for what?

* * *

"You head back with the rest of the team, I can handle Disastro" Proclaimed Captain Meteor "You know we have to find out what Sabre Wulf has done"

"I know, I know!" Replied Paladin looking over his shoulder before taking off in the direction of Protector HQ "But you keep in contact, got it?"

"Consider it done, Disastro won't know what hit him" chirped Captain Meteor with a smirk as she spun around and rocketed across the sky.

"It's not Disastro I'm worried about" muttered Paladin, recalling all too well the level of collateral damage Captain Meteor had wrought when she last fought The Mammoth in central city. Earth's mightiest protector had the spacial awareness and self-preservation of a wrecking ball.

"Who's on site at HQ, there's a possibility I can walk them through something" snapped Paladin over the radio.

"Uh, that would be me. What's this about freaky wolf spider sex? Isn't that supposed to be next Tuesday?" Replied the sarcastic feminine drawl of the team's archer.

"Settle down, Sureshot. Pay attention, do this right and maybe you can turn this around" replied Paladin matter of factly.

* * *

Recluse moaned as a second cock began sprouting from his swollen ball sack. Though it was more and more like the tail of a giant spider with each moment. Four large appendages sprouted from the base of his shafts and curled around Sabre Wulf's pelvis, dragging her onto the second cock which was every bit as thick, hard and ridged as his original penis. He hissed as he stroked her body, taking turns to knead each of her six breasts as his hands slowly became more like her paws. He felt his fur growing longer, softer and he let out a rapturous howl as he released her neck from his bite.

Sabre Wulf knew she wasn't done changing, but she hadn't anticipated this. She shrieked with glee as her folds began to lift, revealing a set of mandibles that clutched and grasped at Recluse's cock. Inside her vagina, she felt barbs forming that raked up and down her lover's shaft. The change in texture seemed to please him greatly as he thrusted with tremendous force. She huffed and grunted loudly as she heard her bones crunching and felt something long and hard poking from under both her shoulder blades. Flexing it, she saw spider legs waving in her peripherals. Her spider legs.

Yipping and howling happily, she leaned her head back to let Recluse move down and kiss her on the mouth. Sloppy mandible kisses that prised her lips apart and dared her tongue to lap at the moving parts inside of his maw.

Several of the gasses they were swathed in, acted as a sort of 'genetic adapter' that facilitated hybrid DNA. A sort of biological glue that let DNA co-exist and mingle where it otherwise couldn't or shouldn't. If either of them knew this, they may not have exchanged bodily fluids so readily. Or at least tried a little harder to resist the temptation. Either way, what followed was the inevitable result of what Paladin would have called 'Cross Contamination'.

Recluse began to let out a low, rumbling growl as his jaw began to snap apart. His mandibles and eventually his whole face flipping open as an enormous wolf head emerged from inside. It's lower jaw splitting in half to form a new set of mandibles, while his old ones formed a mane of bug like claws and limbs around his head. His thrusts became harder and faster as he began pushing Sabre Wulf up to the ceiling and pounding her against it. Sabre Wulf hissed and shrieked as the sides of her mouth also split open to release mandibles of her own, her tongue splitting into three, thinner tongues that writhed around her teeth and clicking chelicerae. Another pair of spider legs began to sprout from her back as her tails twisted and intertwined with one another.

They both howled as the ceiling began cracking around them, their bodies wildly gyrating as they both began shedding patches of fur to reveal shiny black carapace in its place. Sabre Wulf's tails throbbed and ached as they slowly melted together to form a giant spider abdomen that twitched impatiently as Recluse withdrew his cock.

Wasting no time, he rolled her onto her back as he came, spurting a thick torrent of green cum across her chitinous stomach and legs. Sabre Wulf mewed helplessly as his paws roamed her waist and flanks, rubbing the semen over her as he continued to ejaculate.

"Be...longssss in... youuu" he strained as his long spider legs gripped her ankles and slowly raised them up to her head. She knew the name for this position, she hoped it meant what she needed it to do to her. She tried to find the words to call it by its name.

"Maaaate..." she croaked as he plunged into her, his crotch mandibles interlocking with hers, pulling their hips together as one of his cocks impaled her, the other throbbing ominously as it rested against her stomach. She huffed and panted as he bucked, her forehead throbbing as six new eyes began to open across it. Her body ached as his cock pummelled her insides, it seemed even her newfound stamina was finding its limitations.

As she squirmed and flexed her hips, she could see thick strands of webbing oozing from each of his limbs, not just tightening around her ankles and wrists but weaving around both their bodies too.

"Hrrr, ha, uhhhh, ahhh" she groaned loudly as both his cocks began to cum again. She felt his weight pressing against her as he closed the distance between them. Were her spider legs weaving webs too? As he released his hold on her ankles, she slid out of the mating press to fold her legs around his waist. Thick streams of cum gushed between them as the webs grew tighter, their coverage rapidly increasing. She moaned softly as he huffed and panted, the pressure of the webbing leaving the cum nowhere to go as it filled the cavities and crevices between them.

"Love" they whispered in unison as the lest webs sealed them both in a cum-filled cocoon, their reproductive organs throbbing as Sabre Wulf felt Recluse impregnating her...

* * *

"It's always 'hey Sureshot, you wanna do something crazy stupid brave? You wanna solo a monster Sureshot? Hey idiot, you wanna do science to save the day? No pressure Sureshot, you're every bit as capable as the woman with the power of a sun in her veins!' Never 'wow gee Sureshot, thanks for holding down the fort, take a breather, the people with bullet proof skin have this one'. Yeesh" muttered Sureshot as she wiped a trickle of residue on her yellow motorcycle jacket. Paladin had been very specific about what to use and how to mix it. Too much and the mixture could explosively separate the hybrid and human DNA in Sabre Wulf and Recluse. Too little and it'd barely slow them down in the inevitable fight.

Sureshot may not be superpowered, but she knew her shit. Nobody said it, but she was on this team because archery skills aside, she was the most dependable member of the Protectors. Time was of the essence and she was the boots on the ground, this was where she excelled.

"Ok, now let's get you into something more befitting a party, yeah?" She whispered, admiring her handiwork frothing in its test tube. Laying out a dozen arrows with empty syringe tips, she began carefully pouring the mixture into them. With no-one else on site to prepare the counter-serum, Paladin was relying on her to have these ready in time for the rest of the team to get her in position and undo whatever happened to Sabre Wulf and Recluse.

Looking over at the video screen showing the CCTV feed, Sureshot glared at the giant pulsing web cocoon. They'd been in there for an hour now, nearly two. Changing into who knows what. If anything that was for the best. Paladin and the team were at least an hour away. Sureshot just needed her mutated team mates to stay where they were, just a little longer...

* * *

The webs prised apart with a wet rip. What started as a thin trickle of green slime, blew out into a tremendous gout splashing across the ground as the two figures fell to the floor with a wet smack.

Inside the cocoon, their minds were so lost in the ogasmic haze of breeding, becoming and pleasuring that they hadn't noticed or cared what was happening. Sabre Wulf's womb swelled with cum as thousands of eggs began forming in her. The pod pulsed and throbbed with their synchronised heartbeat. Inside, thei bodies floated in goo, intertwined, still fucking as her impregnation reaches it's inevitable climax. Flitting in and out of consciousness, all that mattered to them is what he had filled her with and that she will begin to lay them soon.

Once the cocoon cracked open, they could see what had become of their physical forms. Slowly pulling themselves to their feet, they admired one another's forms. They almost looked human except for a few massive differences. Both a good foot taller than they were, their bodies superhumanly fit. Their skin a deep, almost black shade of blue. Eight pitch black eyes on their brow and forehead. Huge spider mandibles folded up inside their otherwise human mouths. Their hair is long and platinum white to match the dozen or so, huge fluffy white tails they sport. Four spikes jut from their backs where their spider legs are neatly folded. Reborn as an entirely new breed of superhuman. A perfect incarnation of their mixed DNA.

Instinctively Sabre Wulf dropped to a squat, puffing as her swollen belly began to undulate. Recluse moved to support her, Chittering excitedly as she began laying the first clutch of her eggs.

* * *

"Ah shit, no way my luck is this bad" exclaimed Sureshot as she frantically screwed the cap on the very last counter-serum arrow.

"Paladin! Our guests are checking out early, you maybe wanna pick up the pace?" She shouted into the radio link.

"Oh I'm sorry it's taking a while to turn around and get back from half way across the Atlantic!" Snapped Paladin.

"Yeah well, uh, looks like we're expecting. God that is a whole lot of inspected..." murmured Sureshot as she watched the screen in horrified fascination as a stream of slime coated eggs surged from Sabre Wulf's vagina and across the floor of the laboratory.

"Paladin, I'm going in!" Declared Sureshot before cutting the radio link. While her mutated peers were preoccupied might be the only chance she'd get to put them both down on her own. Seizing the arrows and her compound bow, she sprinted for the lab, unaware that Sabre Wulf had already finished and immediately proceeded to mount Recluse once again. Meanwhile, the eggs rapidly swelled and twitched, as their contents gestated impossibly fast...

* * * "DISASTRO! YOUR ASS IS GRASS!" Shouted Captain Meteor as she smashed through the stained glass windows overlooking the snow covered mountains surrounding the villain's castle.

"Funny. I don't zink I recall hiring und Gardner mein fraulein" tutted the villain as he whirled to face her. His black cape whipping open to expose the red power armour beneath it. Holding up a hand to deftly catch Captain Meteor's fist with a deafening Thunder clap. With almost no delay, her other hand snatched his forearm, spun him into the air and flung him through a pair of ancient stone pillars.

"Gardner? I'm the wildfire baby" scoffed Captain Meteor as her energy flickered around her in a crackling haze of cosmic energy. Raising a hand she began charging an enormous yellow fire ball, ready to launch it at the evil mastermind as soon as he presented himself. Failing that, it couldn't hurt to loose it off at the wall of computers surrounding them in the main hall.

"Zen I am sorry to be dunking the water" chuckled Disastro as he stood up. Captain Meteor aimed and released, the fireball a searing white burst of heat as it launched from her outstretched palm. Her heart sank when it dissipated in a crackling, flashing implosion barely six feet from her.

"Wh-what. What!? Why didn't that work!?" She exclaimed, examining her arm as she tried to charge it again. Instead her energy fizzled out, growing dim before disappearing entirely. Her heels clacked on the cobblestones as she dropped from where she had been levitating.

"Uh. Well um, usually it's someone else saying this but uh, I swear this never happens haha... uh... call it a draw?" She laughed nervously. She felt weak... she felt... normal.

"Vy is it they always send der bluntness tool in shed, hmm?" Continued Disastro as he began to saunter over to her. "You zink you were not expected? You zink Disastro does not take und precaution, mm?"

Looking down at her feet to where Disastro's gaze fell, Captain Meteor could see a ring of symbols glowing red hot on the ground around her. Some sort of magic circle, ritual or... no, he couldn't have placed some sort of magical power drain... could he?

"As far as cheating, this is a new low for you, y'know that?" Captain Meteor feigned an angry pout, trying to mask her fear. She was alone with no back up and no powers against the most evil super genius alive. "So what? You gonna hit a defenceless girl...? Even you wouldn't stoop so low... right?"

Disastro laughed as he pulled up a pair of large polished timber chairs. He placed one opposite the circle and brandished the other one as though he were offering it. "I was hoping vee could have a little chat. About ze future. And vot it holds for us both, ja?" Whispered the evil mastermind, staring intently at the exposed skin of her thighs in a way that made the Captain's skin crawl...

* * *

"Ffffffuuuuuck" Rasped Sabre Wulf as Recluse's knot subsided, letting her pull free from his cock with a wet slurp. She giggled as she collapsed on her back. It was already starting again, the squirming amidst the warmth in her womb. She was pregnant again. She smiled and ran her hands up and down her waist as her belly began to to distend and swell already.

Recluse panted as he pulled himself up to crawl over to her, caressing her cheek as she closed her eyes and nuzzled his hand. This was everything. He was everything. Their brood was everything. Oh God, their brood. The first of her eggs had already begun to hatch, enormous fluffy white spiders with glistening black eyes pulling themselves free amidst sprays of green slime. They were gorgeous, Sabre Wulf had never seen something so beautiful. And she was about to lay more, just like she'd always wanted, she couldn't remember ever wanting or needing anything that wasn't this...

* * *

Sureshot sprinted down the corridor, arrow notched and at the ready. Once that door opened, she'd get one shot to put one down. One more for the other if she was quick enough. Lucky for her, the woman that never misses was more than just a brag or title. If anyone could do this, it was her.

Coming up on the main door to the laboratory, Sureshot took a deep breath and steeled herself for what might be on the other side. She'd clipped Recluse in sparring matches before and she'd bagged Sabre Wulf at least twice back in the old days when they were enemies, she could do this. Deep breaths. Focus. Believe.

She was at the door now, nudging the release for the door with her elbow, she stepped back and drew the arrow back. As the door opened, her heart sank, her stomach churned and Sureshot ran for her life.

* * *

"Wait, so if you have a magic future stone, thingy. And that's a big if. Why let us beat you twenty seven times a year, why not just... not do that?" Captain Meteor chided, her sneer making it perfectly clear she wasn't buying Disastro's story.

"Ugh. Time mein fraulein. It is not so malleable. It is robust, stubborn. Not unlike you und I." Continued Disastro as he brandished a black glass orb "Vot is meant to be, will be. Zis is cause und effect. Action, reaction."

"But if I just didn't come here today? Checkmate Dickwad. Who's got the big brain now?" Scoffed Captain Meteor, folding her arms and smiling broadly.

"Zen that choice creates der parallel. Ze universe where you did someting else. But that is not der universe we find ourselves in, you see?" Disastro explained, more than a little exasperated how much time he was losing to explaining multiverse theory to this gold-haired buffoon. Let alone how much explanation the next part may take.

"Alight, I get it. Everything I do is predetermined because when I was twelve I spilled a raspberry shake instead of waiting to cross the road. So what?" Replied Captain Meteor as she glared back at her captor.

"Mm. I don't zink you do, but close enough" chortled Disastro, idly tossing the glass ball from one hand to the other.

"Whatever. Your doo-hicky told you I'd be coming alone. So you set me up. Fine. You knew how it'd go and now you've got me. What's next? Brainwashing me into being your evil sidekick?" Captain Meteor looked nervous. That was definitely within Disastro's capabilities, it couldn't get any worse than that surely...

"No. At least not in zis life mm? No, my dear Captain we are, how you say... getting the fuck out of ze dodge?" Replied Disastro, completely straight-faced, almost nonchalant.

"What?" Captain Meteor dropped her arms to her sides as she loudly expressed her surprise. Disastro wasn't making sense. All this talk of time, the crushing weight of inevitability, the predetermined outcome of all things and his literal crystal ball. All so that they could 'get out'?

"Leaving. Zis place, zis timeline. You und I. And the sooner the better." Disastro was solemn, deliberate. He believed everything he was saying to Captain Meteor and they were way past her thinking this could be a ruse. Because she could hear Disastro's heart was pounding. He was terrified. More than he'd ever been fighting any or all of the Protectors.

"What, why??? What makes you think I'm going anywhere with you?" She replied cautiously, her arms tensing, fists clenching. More out of habit than the ability to actually do anything.

"Because of vot I have to show you dear. You see, I am trying to save you." Replied Disastro, holding the crystal ball aloft. The ball seemed to flicker with light as shapes began to materialise in the air around it. Captain Meteor's eyes began to widen and her mouth hung agape as Disastro showed her what the future held in store...

* * *

Sureshot gasped for air as her lungs burned. They were too fast, everything she did to try and slow them down did nothing. Six giant spiders with vaguely humanoid faces, canine paws on the tips of their legs and long white fur scuttled after her. Each was nearly the size of a large dog, chittering and keening as they closed in on her.

First she felt the webbing snare her ankles, then the ground came rushing up to meet her. Then pain. Her head spun as she flailed out of reflex. Webbing snapped around her wrists and forearms, pulling taut as something crawled across her chest. As her eyes began to focus, she could make out the spider perched on her, its abdomen bobbing ominously above her head as its fangs scraped at the crotch of her yellow, leather pants.

"Nooo! Ohh God, no no!" She cried as she felt the material give way, its fangs snagging and pulling at her briefs. From the creature's tail, a thick, humanoid cock with a giant knot at the base of its shaft was sliding out.

"Argh! No! Fuck! NOOO!" She cried as the creature turned to face her. It clicked happily, nuzzling at her face as its cock began to push into her, slow yet firm as it pressed past her entrance.

"Rrrrelax" purred Sabre Wulf as she sauntered up the hallway, her belly already distended with what must have been her third or fourth pregnancy going by the various egg clusters and hatchlings Sureshot had seen in the laboratory.

"Rrrrrelax. Is good. Breed with ussss." Purred Sabre Wulf, squatting beside Sureshot as a thick stream of eggs began gushing from her. Throwing her head from side to side, she barked and howled with ecstasy while Sureshot screamed.

* * *

"Well now this is just getting silly. It has to be a trick." Protested Captain Meteor.

"Trick? This is not der future. This is right now in your 'Protector Heaquarters'. This is where it starts, every time I consult the Stone, the vision for zis reality is the same. Now it is not just vision, it is so." Narrated Disastro. The strobing lights from the Crystal Ball projecting an image of two spider people fucking in the hallway outside the lab in Protector HQ. Beside them, Sureshot lay pinned to the ground by clusters of webbing while an enormous spider seemed to be kissing her on the mouth, a great human cock extending from its tail and into Sureshot as it bobbed up and down on the spot. The archer's yellow motorcycle leathers were tearing apart as her body seemed to change, swelling, sprouting clusters of fur the same colour as her bright red hair. Long, thin spider legs sprouting from her back to gently stroke the monster that was having its way with her.

Captain Meteor felt like she was going to be sick.

"Oh... oh God... but Sureshot... the Protectors!?" She cried, falling to her knees, burying her face in her gloved hands so that Disastro couldn't see her tears.

"Gone in ze next hour or so. Ja. Let me show you. See. See how they run? They fight? All for nuzzink." Continued Disastro, the ball flickering through an assortment of moments showing the Protetectors as one by one, they were overwhelmed by the spiders, bitten, fucked and changed. With each new vision, Protector HQ looked more and more like a giant spider nest.

"Zis world is doomed. There is no escape, no resisting, no curing. Within two weeks there is no more humans. No more heroes or villains. Only her brood, till ze end of ze timeline" concluded Disastro as the ball projected images of entire cities swathed in webs, whole populations of spider-people rutting and laying eggs in the streets

"That can't... surely not? We can still stop it, right?" Whimpered Captain Meteor through bloodshot eyes. This was too much to take in, too much to accept. Her mind still frantically grasped for some miraculous solution, even if it meant collaboration with Disastro. In that moment, she couldn't think what she wouldn't do to not become one of those things.

"If you remain here, you will share their fate, becoming just another monster, like you always do." Stated Disastro, dispassionately.

"Wh-what do you mean. Why did you say it like that? Like I always do?" At that subtle change in tone, Captain Meteor looked back to Disastro. He grimaced as the ball's projection changed once again. The room was so quiet, the squeak of Captain Meteor's shiny black gloves felt deafening as she moved to hold her cheeks, gasping in horror at what she saw next...

* * *

"Breeeeeed" moaned Sureshot as she gently bucked her hips up to take her lover's cock deeper. He nuzzled her neck and delicately licked ar her fangs, yet she never took her eyes off Sabre Wulf and Recluse. The two had begun fucking again right next to her. As soon as Sabre Wulf had laid her eggs, she leaned forward on hands and knees to let Recluse grab her ass and plough into her again.

Sureshot drooled at the sight of his cock pounding Sabre Wulf's cunt, thick streams of green cum dripping from it as he did. Sureshot hoped hers looked like that. She hoped her belly would swell and she'd lay eggs too. That was all she wanted. Her lover licked at her drool as it pulled her fangs around its own, its humanoid tongue exploring her mouth as she kissed. Sureshot couldn't remember why she'd been running, this was divine. Watching Sabre Wulf and Recluse, joining them, being impregnated with more of their brood... what had she been before? Did she even care? Of course she didn't. All that mattered was the dizzying orgasm wracking her mutated body as a delightful squirming sensation made her belly begin to squirm. She felt Sabre Wulf reach into the webbing around her hand, gripping it tightly as she smiled down at her.

"Friendsss... always share" she rasped.

"Breed?" Moaned the red spider formerly known as Sureshot.

"Yessss... especially breeding..." purred Sabre Wulf as she began to feel an orgasm of her own washing over her.

* * *

"Ah! Now we get to what we must really be talking about, fraulein!" Clapped Disastro with a manic glint in his eye. The lights projected by the crystal ball began to coalesce into forms once again.

What Captain Meteor saw was nothing short of maddening. She saw herself. Sometimes with short hair. Or red accents on her costume instead of gold. Dozens of slightly different versions of herself. All of them fucking a monster of some shape or form. The most horrifying were the ones that seemed to do so, willingly.

All of them bucking and gyrating. All of them changing. She wailed and cried as she watched herself grow scales, swelling into a giant lizard underneath some sort of dinosaur man. She wept as she watched herself howling under the full moon as a werewolf and wretched when she saw herself sucking off her slime covered nemesis, slowly turning into slime herself.

"Stop. Stop it. I've seen enough." She mumbled, lips quivering as she fought to regain her composure.

"You see, these other versions, other worlds. Very you wear red and not black, vere I have great big beard und eye patch, all this possibilities. Every life we could have lived instead... every one of you. Sooner or later, you become a monster, Captain. Through infection, corruption... seduction. It matters not how. You always get turned into a monster my dear." Disastro almost seemed mournful as he lowered the ball, the images disappearing almost as quickly as they formed.

"No! No! No! I.. I can't! I won't!" Pleaded Captain Meteor "Not here, not me! I'm not going to be like Sureshot or the others!" Despite the way her voice cracked and trembled, there was a fierce determination to it.

"Zen you may want to listen to my offer." Disastro made a wry smile.

"You see. Zis machine of my devising. With enough power, it can briefly pierce the veil between worlds. Zat is how we escape fate, how we escape zis dying world and der threat of becoming spider creatures for the rest of our days. Free of zis, reality... destiny will hold no sway over us. We can go anywhere, be whatever we want. Together. Vot say you, Captain?" Finished Disastro with a dramatic flourish, holding his hand outstretched. Gritting her teeth, Captain Meteor reached up and laid her gloved hand in his. Pulling her up, he kicked a notch in the magic circle, breaking it's barrier. Pulling her close, he gently kissed the nape of her neck.

"Then what do we do, my dear" she whispered softly, angrily glaring at the Machine behind him as Disastro whispered in her ear...

* * *

Roaring, howling, shrieking, bodies convulsing and shuddering. The nest was an erotic cacophony as several heroes and heroines succumbed to their arachnid captors. Their costumes cracking and tearing as thick tufts of fur sprouted from their increasingly inhuman bodies as they writhed and contorted. Puddles of slime and cum glimmering around them as either they began to swell their mates with eggs distend with a rapidly growing clutch of their own.

Recluse made Sabre Wulf scream and drool, her mouth opening to let her mandibles unfurl and scratch at the empty air as she try to pull free of his knot. His huge clawed hands squeezing her waist as he pulld her back onto it, holding her up in his lap so he can loom over her shoulder and watch her stomach bulging and bloating.

Hungrily purring and chittering in her ear, and nuzzling her neck as he pumps more of his cum into her. Letting out a low orgasmic groan as he slowly collapses on his back. His grip softening as his hands run down her sides to rest on her thighs. Slowly she pulls herself free of her barbed knots, her cunt still trying to squeeze and pull them as it drips with cum.

They can hear clanging and scattered bursts of energy discharges as their offspring finally drag Paladin to his knees, cracking his armour open to seize the man wailing inside. Sabre Wulf grinned viciously as she watched the red spider holding him down, her fangs clicking as she rasped "Rrrrrelax. Breeeeeeed." Her belly swaying with her second clutch of eggs as she clawed at Paladin's undersuit. Something in Sabre Wulf's altered brain sparked a faint memory of profoundly disliking that man. Which made watching him become something more pleasing made it all the more arousing for her.

She pulls herself up with her spider legs, they've been growing steadily larger, thicker, longer, allowing her to support herself as each clutch of eggs grows more numerous than the last. Her belly is already heavy as it swells with her newest batch. Climbing up into her webs, she looks down at her kingdom, her brood. She smiles at the thought of them spreading beyond this building, maybe some of them already have...

Her mate chambers up into the webs with her, nuzzling at her neck and chest as he begins stroking his cock. She chitters and clicks, gently pushing him up into the Web while lowering her mouth onto his cock. She may need time before he can impregnate her again, but that doesn't mean his seed could be wasted...

* * *

"So, this machine..." inquired Captain Meteor as she circled the tiered plinth in front of the archway, tracing her gloved fingers across the tubes feeding into it with a suggestive smile.

"Der Reality Gate, yes" replied Disastro, barely suppressing a triumphant grin. He would have made his escape with or without her. But he certainly preferred the opportunities her voluntary assistance could offer them both. She was after all, a truly remarkable specimen that he had desired carnally for some time.

"I'm the only thing that can power it. Like a living battery" she recited slowly, gesturing towards the archway.

"Simply put, yes. With the right focus, which is provided by my device, your energy could cut a whole in der fabric of reality" explained Disastro for the third time, reminding himself that it was while she was an idiot, she was at least a beautiful one. She was earth's mightiest protector, not its smartest. At least he need not fear deception, she had neither the intellect or subtlety.

"So if I'm powering it, how do I get through? Don't think I don't know what ghosting is when I see it, Disastro" she raised an eyebrow quizzically beneath her mask, almost seeming stern. Disastro knew she was fishing for assurance. Truth to salve her guilt, to justify what they were doing. Truth he offered with the utmost sincerity.

"Captain, you wound me! Nothing so crude my dear. Simply put, once charged, the tear will hold for approximately thirty seven seconds. Time enough to make our escape before the tear collapses, leaving it sealed behind us" he proclaimed, clapping his hands. "You see my dear, I've thought of everything."

I'll bet you have, you slimy weasel. Thought Captain Meteor as she mulled over this information. She could do a lot with thirty seven seconds.

* * *

The red spider kneeled on hands and knees at the gigantic foot of her queen, moaning and drooling as she looked up at her. The queen, the brood mother, the progenitor of her species. Sabre Wulf. The name was like a distant echo. She was magnificent, her beauty unrivalled by the red spider or any of her Kin. She just considered herself lucky to be here. Lucky to make her own contributions to the brood as she felt her eggs sliding out from her engorged pussy.

Behind her, her mate chirped, laying its body against her back and nuzzling her neck as she ushered more of its progeny into the world. Yet as always, her attention never diverted from Sabre Wulf.

Sabre Wulf's legs had grown enormous in order to support her weight. Her last several clutches of eggs had swelled her belly to a huge translucent sack that swayed in the air as she hung suspended above the ground by her long legs. There was virtually no pause between impregnation now. For a while, her mate would pull out and masturbate while her eggs gestated. He would screech and cum hard, splattering thick green semen over her body when he did. The red spider considered herself and several others lucky to be close enough that they caught several strands of it in their mouths or on their bodies as it dripped from the queen.

Now he just remained behind her, cock perpetually throbbing in her womb.

"You... belonnnnng" the queen would periodically rasp "All of yooou. Beneath me. To my brood. Our... brood" The red spider would reply with a loud orgasm, as did the others like her. A simple yet clear affirmation of their gratitude and willingness. It seemed there were more and more like them each time the red spider laid her eggs. Some wearing the tattered remains of police uniforms, medical scrubs or just various casual wear. The hive had spread beyond the building, with so many spiders rapidly breeding, it would surprise none to know the city was overrun in minutes...

* * *

"Final checks clear, vee are all systems go!" Shouted Disastro as the machine began to whirr and hum.

"Well that's good, are we expecting company?" Remarked Captain Meteor as she nodded towards one of the computer screens. Disastro followed her gaze as red warning lights began to flash. Incoming craft. Protector transport.

"Just saying Dee, I ain't big on reunions once I'm ready to move on" Sputtered Captain Meteor as she broke into a run to jump and hover to the plinth in front of the Reality Gate. She had a cold sweat as she remembered the horrifying visual of her friends becoming spider monsters. Of the various monstrous versions of herself. She couldn't allow that. Not here. Not to her.

"C'mon Dee. It's rude to keep a girl waiting!" Shouted Captain Meteor. They were only going to get one shot at this.

"My dear, I only have two arms and I'm trying to keep it that way!" Disastro Shouted back, fliipppping switches and adjusting dials. "Zis is most precise. I have found der perfect reality. No superheroes, no super villain's, I vas never born dere. It is a perfect clean slate for us both. The slightest mistake und vee end up in the wrong reality or even worse, nowhere at all."

"Ok. No pressure. Well... what does that world have?" Replied Captain Meteor with a half smile, they were so close. Maybe just this once she could outrun her so-called destiny.

"Bakeries. Vots and vots of bakeries." Stated a bemused Disastro as if he were simultaneously surprised and charmed.

"... huh. Not um. Not sure what I expected if I'm honest. Could be worse?" Offered Captain Meteor. She'd never been any good at baking, she had two left hands or so her mother used to say. She even once set a cake on fire while it was still in the mixing bowl. Maybe she was a rubbish baker because she'd been a superhero since she was a teenager. The idea of a world where that wasn't taking up all her time... maybe it would be nice to make bread and cakes all day...

An explosion rocked the castle as the Protector Transport crashed into it. Warning sirens blared as an automated voice began to chant "Intruder alarm!" in Disastro's native tongue.

"Go go! Achtung! CHARGE ZE GATE AT ONCE! JUST LIKE VEE SAID!" Shouted Disastro as he began fiddling with the controls for the castle's security. From here out, there was no room for error.

Captain Meteor gritted her teeth and dug deep. Just like Disastro had instructed. Give it everything, harder, stronger than ever before. She grunted as she recalled every time she ever felt small. Every time when she was just Hayley and she intervened against bullies in the school yard, every time she fought with her parents over doing the right thing when they told her to instead keep to herself. Yellow bolts of energy crackled in the air around her as the plinth began to glow.

Her voice rose to a growl as she thought of every time she battled Disastro, every time he threatened innocent lives and had to be beaten down. Of Ravage, Mammoth or the time Sabre Wulf had unleashed an ancient monster from it's tomb out of sheer greed. Her eyes began to glow as the bolts began to solidify into streams of energy arcing from her body to the plinth.

Captain Meteor began to hover above the plinth, the energy turning bright orange as her eyes glowed white hot. Her growl grew to continuous scream. She thought of the Protectors. Her friends, reduced to mindless monsters. She thought of her other selves and their terrible fates. Her chest felt like it was exploding as her energy turned bright red and white, crackling around her like the surface of the sun. Hayley, not Captain Meteor, roared her defiance as the door to the hall began to splinter and crack. As it collapsed under the teeming mass of spiders crashing against it, the reality Gate flickered into life. One moment, lighting bolts danced within the arch. The next moment, there was an ideally mountain side village on the other side of it. At the end of the street, there was a well-lit bakery so real that she could already smell the fresh pastry. Thirty six seconds.

Disastro ran for the portal.

"Quickly, Quickly mein Captain! Time to go!" He shouted as he sprinted as fast as he could. Twenty-nine seconds.

CLANG! Went Disastro's power armour as Captain Meteor flew into him, shoulder first, with bone breaking force and sending him skidding across the floor in a crumpled heap. Twenty-three seconds.

"You know the saying, not even if you were the last man on earth." Spat Captain Meteor as she stomped on his knee, shattering it and bending his leg in the opposite direction it was supposed to go. With no delay, she launched forwards, kicking him into the computers and machines beside the Reality Gate. Sparks flew and energy beams crackled sporadically as the image of the mountain village began to flicker like static on an old TV. Nine seconds.

"Captain! MEIN CAPTAIN! DON'T" Shrieked Disastro as the spiders scuttled towards them, crawling on the ground as tears streamed from his eyes. Four seconds. "Later, Nerd." Chirped Captain Meteor with a wink and a smile. Delivering her catchphrase one last time as she zoomed into the flickering portal with one second remaining before it winked out of existence with a low whine.

Disastro screamed as the spiders pinned him in place, howling as they cracked his armour open and stripped him of his clothing and eventually, his humanity.

If Captain Meteor had stayed, she maybe would have heard what Disastro tried to say as she left. She wouldn't have understood it as she only spoke English, but it wouldn't have mattered. If she stayed, Disastro's final warning would have been moot. But roughly translated, it conveyed something along the lines of: "I don't know where it goes anymore, you would have been safer here"

* * *

Hayley felt like her insides were pulled out of her chest. Her skin flayed from her body layer by layer as every fibre of her existence screamed in agony. She was freezing and boiling all at once, emptying out like every fluid poured from her, yet bloated like she had eaten enough to be sick. Her eyes stung and her bones writhed like jelly. Then, like a roller-coaster ride, it all stopped immediately. She was nowhere, could see nothing, could feel nothing. No village, no bakery, no smells of pastry or warm smile. Just profound emptiness. Am I dead? She wondered.

"Hello..?" She shouted, her voice barely a whisper. As she spoke, light seemed to flicker out from her mouth, briefly illuminating her face before dissipating. Where the fuck am I?

As if responding to her, a low, growling chuckle echoed around her. Before she could react, she was falling. Objects seemed to whizz past her, heavy as they whistled through the void. She could see bricks snapping together in mid air, glowing red hot where they joined. First a couple, then dozens, then hundreds. The laughter grew deafening then suddenly, she found herself sprawled on a tiled floor.

Her head pounded like she'd been concussed as her eyes struggled to focus. She could see her costume was completely intact, her bare skin on her biceps and thighs was unblemished. Not even a speck of dust or debris on her. Slowly looking around, she seemed to be in some sort of giant, gothic church.

"Wwwww... which Europe is this?" She slurred as she pulled herself up and staggered forwards. High heeled boots had never felt worse and for whatever reason, she couldn't bring herself to fly or even hover. It was as though she had invisible weights strapped to her feet, every step a struggle as she strained to make the movement necessary. The chuckle rolled through hall, reverberating through her bones.

The room seemed lit by candlelight, though there were no candles in sight. Looking closer at one of the stained glass windows lining the hall, it was impossible to see through. The outside was entirely bricked up. All of them. In this room and the next. And the one after that. She had no idea how long she searched. Was she looping through the same room or were they just all the same?

Defeated, she slumped to the ground crying. Curiously, the tiles weren't cold to the touch where her ass cheeks poked out from her leotard. Not warm either. A complete absence of texture or temperature that further confused her senses. Again came the chuckle, shaking the structure to its foundation. Then, it spoke.

"Survival. Such a pitiful exercise." It was like hearing a Roaring fire and nails on a chalkboard at the same time. As if a thousand horrible screeching, cracking sounds had been arranged into something that resembled words.

"Beats the alternative" murmured Captain Meteor as she looked up in search of the voice's source.

"Are you so sure?" The crackling, snarling voice retorted.

"Look, this place sucks, but at least I didn't become a monster. Not this time. Not me." At Captain Meteor's defiance, the voice scoffed and laughter until she couldn't hear herself anymore.

"Oh child. We all become things we never meant to. That's life." Scolded the voice, it's condescension causing Hayley to stiffen up. There were few things she despised more than being dictated to.

"And this is your idea of living? Huh?" She spat, rising to her feet, fists clenched.

"It's apparently yours" chortled the voice, as though it were amused by provoking her. "You know, you would have been happy among them. A proud mother, knowing only pleasure from one moment to the next. Just like your friends."

"Yet, here I am" she snarled defiantly.

"Yet, here you are" replied the voice with a chuckle. "Neither living any of your lives. Yet you do not die."

At that, Hayley noticed a mirror in the middle of the room barely a few feet from her. Had it always been there? And where were the doorways? Or the windows?

"So what does that make me?" Whispered Captain Meteor as she cautiously stepped towards the mirror. In it, she saw herself. Not as she was right now. She saw Hayley. Mid 20s, shoulder length blonde hair, fake glasses. Her brown aviator jacket over her Antarctic Primates band shirt. Her loose denim jeans and red sneakers.

"Not this anymore." She replied to herself, the mirror version copying her every movement.

"I mean, I haven't really been this for a long time" she continued "Not since the accident" "Not since me" Declared her voice despite her saying nothing herself. The mirror image was now the shiny black vinyl leotard, thigh high boot and glove wearing superhero, Captain Meteor, speaking to her.

Hayley stumbled back, she was in her civilian clothes. The jacket, band shirt, jeans, sneakers. As she stepped back, the Captain Meteor reflection thumped her fists against the surface of the mirror.

"And where did it get us Hayley? An infinite multiverse of monstrosities? No. No the real monster, the worst of us all is prancing around like she's still fucking human!" Shouted the reflection, eyes blazing with a fury Hayley knew all too well.

"I-I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." she stammered, holding a hand over her mouth as she stifled another burst of crying.

"Mean to what? Abandon your friends? Your family? Your whole fucking world? Does that sound human to you, Hayley?" Demanded the reflection. As she choked back her tears, Hayley blinked. She was back in her superhero costume. Just like her reflection. Except something was off about her mirror image. The hue of her lips, the way they twisted into a cruel smile. The piercing stare of her eyes. Her mirror image practically exuded menace.

"I did what I had to." They both stated firmly. "And I'd do it again"

"Hahaha well, no. You won't" chuckled the mirror image. It wasn't the heat haze of her energy discolouring her reflection, the longer Captain Meteor stared at her, it became obvious her skin was tinged with streaks of crimson. Each time she blinked, they seemed more prominent, brighter, spreading across her exposed flesh.

"Didn't you think it strange Disastro couldn't show you a future where you were one of those spider things?" The reflection growled, it's voice sounding more and more like the crackling, roaring pseudo-voice that spoke earlier.

"Did you really think you're the Hayley that gets to run from her destiny?" She shrieked, her voice squealing like a train braking too hard. As she did, her skin turned blood red, her nails elongating into long black claws. Her hair billowed in a non-existent wind before turning into a mane of roaring fire as a massive pair of black horns sprouted from her head. Captain Meteor fell backwards, with a terrified scream. Scrambling back from the mirror on her hands despite the fact she seemed to be moving closer to it. "I'M THE DESTINY YOU RAN TO. I AM THE FIRE BURNING IN THE DARKNESS. I AM YOUR SELFISHNESS HAYLEY. YOUR CRUELTY AND MALICE. YOU CAN'T ESCAPE ME HAYLEY, YOU WERE ME THE WHOLE TIME. ALL OF YOU, SO VAIN AND CRUEL, ALWAYS." Bellowed the voice as Hayley clutched her head and screamed.

She tried to refuse. To say no. But it's screams were deafening as enormous bat like wings unfurled from her back. Her pleather uniform burning away to reveal a muscular red body glowing orange from within. The mirror seemed to Warp and bubble, melting as her reflection seemed to push her way out. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the mirror was gone.

"If surviving makes me a monster, then that must make me queen bitch of the multiverse" she rasped, fire flickering from her lips as she spoke. She stood before a gigantic oil painting of Captain Meteor standing proud and tall on the steps of Protector HQ. Her black lips twisting into a wicked smile as she admired how perfectly it captured the likeness of her old self.

"I can live with that" Hayley murmured as she stretched her wings to their fullest, two enormous red and black, leathery pinions with a wingspan of almost sixteen feet.

She laughed, turning to survey the room that would become her impossible gallery of improbable things. The two long walls were lined with smaller portraits of all manner of strange beasts, some bearing more of a resemblance to her than others. Throughout the room, stone pedestals and glass cabinets assembled themselves in readiness for the treasures they might one day hold.

Hayley bared her fangs as she grinned, her tails cracking behind her like a whip, their lengths lined with large spikes as if they were fleshy barbed wire. Stepping away from the portrait of Captain Meteor, her cloven hooves made no sound as they stepped along the tiled floor. With a blink of an eye, she willed a semblance of clothing into existence. A simple set of leather straps and garters around her thighs and a matching harness around her chest. She need not cover her beauty any more than that. She was the only one here in The In-between. Even if she wasn't, shame or embarrassment were beneath her. She was beyond that now. She'd wear and appear however she damn well pleased.

Stairs formed under her feet as she strode onwards. They climbed high into the roof of the gallery and beyond, stretching through the infinite emptiness of the in-between before leading to another room. As she ascended, Hayley mused to herself how peculiar her new reality was.

She had spent an eternity languishing in her guilt, being tortured by it. Feeling her bitterness and outrage fester and grow till it drowned her. Her confidence, her hubris, everything she loved and hated about herself, imploding and twisting her into something else. Yet it had taken mere moments. Physical changes that felt like lifetimes had taken place in seconds. She ripped the goodness from her heart and soul and embraced what she had become, reconciling with her deeds and letting her darkness consume and become her. In an instant, earth's mightiest protector died and was born anew as an immortal demon queen. From that point, she gave little, if any, thought to her former life as a hero beyond wondering why she'd resisted this. Evil suited her, she wore it well. In her new form it all felt terribly gratifying, really.

Reaching the end of the floating stairs after what felt like hours, or perhaps barely a minute, she found her bedroom. A lavish quarters with a roaring fire and enormous bed draped in luxurious silks. Exactly like she had envisioned it. That seemed to be the trick to this place. If she willed it, with clarity and certainty, The In-between provided. She didn't care to understand it any further that. This reality was hers to mold as she saw fit, that was enough for now.

Tomorrow she would craft a bathroom and a garden. Maybe even a banquet hall and throw herself a feast in her honour. But first, she desired rest. Reclining on the bed, she marvelled at its softness. Just the way she liked it. And all it had cost, was the goodness in her soul. She chuckled as she closed her eyes, fantasising about how she might begin testing the confines of The In-between. She had breached the walls between realities once, now she was growing even stronger. No reason she couldn't try again if she desired an adventure...

At that, the Demon Queen Hayley slept and dreamed vividly of the dark pleasures her new body craved. And as she did, for just one night, every Captain Meteor in every reality, every Hayley Drummond who ever existed, all dreamed the same thing. They dreamed of a gorgeous demoness with skin like fresh blood, writhing in purple and silver silks as she slept. Her wings stretching out and trembling as her eyes snapped open in the same instant that every Hayley woke with a start. All of them with no memory of the dream. Only a profoundly strong sense of terror and a pang of jealousy. For some of them, they would never see the demoness again.

Others? Well, those were stories for another time...

[resolutepath]

ELIO & WHAT HE DOESN'T TALK ABOUT.

"If we had Elio's eyes, the world would not appear as it does to you and I. There are myriad possibilities overlapping one another, representing the consequences of different choices." - Kafka

You have to understand Elio sees everything. He sees what will be, what might be, what could be and what has potential to pass. A constellation of possibilities spread out like a choose your own adventure challenge held in a sea of stars. And sometimes those things that are seen are not things that can be shared. Elio filters information viewed into relevant to his mission and irrelevant to the mission. This is the only way they can manage handling the sheer amount of information seen.

But sometimes those parts that filter into of relevance are not fun. Sometimes Elio sees that the ONLY way to achieve the best outcome is to let one of the Stellaron Hunters (past not current line up) die. Sometimes he sees that there is a whole planet that MUST be foresaken in order for one that will be needed to survive. Other times it will see the suffering that HAS to be endured for one to rise to the person they NEED to be.

Elio is cursed to see this. They are Destiny's Slave. It is not a gift but a curse, obliged to watch no matter what may be seen. I've emphasised this elsewhere but it's so important to me that this is understood because it also explains Elio's choice to leave a lot unsaid and only give the actions necessary for the script to progress.

Because when you have foreseen the horrible and know it must happen to thwart the Ruin Author and THEIR attempts at universal destruction, there MUST be a sense of dettachment. Some of this Elio already had from being a Memokeeper formerly - record don't interfere - but it's heightened since his gaze has turned from the past to the future.

When Elio does foresee these events it is not a simple decision made. It will spend hours testing the limits of its powers - much to Kafka's chagrin - seeing if this is one of the best possibilities or the only one. It is important all routes are tried. But if there is no other option then the script it written and privately they will mourn that which is lost. Sometimes there are things that change the situation - the Nameless interference can change a script, the Trailblazer particularly, and so can non-physical things - but ultimately Elio has become accustom to accepting the sacrifice of something for the greater good and living with that.

The consequences are Elio's to bear and there will be times when even the Stellaron Hunters cannot rouse Elio from its gazing, gone to a place far beyond their reach as it studies the paths in hope the choice made will not be for nothing. Other times Elio will be found drinking a cup of tea, another poured next to it though seemingly for no one, and other times still creating a memory bubble, one that is stored so that all that was sacrificed is remembered. Sometimes these are left on Herta's Space Station along with the others found there so that it is not the only witness to what has come to pass, but only after events unfold and nothing can change them.

Elio never tells the Stellaron Hunters what is to come for them in the future beyond the script and the deals they have made. It is important to Elio that the only structure given is that which MUST occur. The rest is a freedom. Even if it maybe is not.

[boonsmoon]

Hey I wanted to ask if you could write character x reader with Crimson from Ragna Crimson? I don't have any request regarding the setting or anything else in that matter. You have a free hand on that part :3 And sorry if I sound stiff but english isn't my first language

i love you /platonic Crimson is my favorite character like <3 thanking Miku that Ragna Crimson simps exist on this site LMAO spoilers/references to chapter 50+

Request Chungus Masterlist Ragna Crimson Masterlist Series ML Crimson x f!reader Genres: Oneshot|Fluff|Romantic

Traitors Love

You two were close. Not close as in being linked through Crimson's powers. It was more of a mutual liking you took towards each other. Of course, it's not hard when you both are considered traitors to your kin.

Despite sharing the status of traitor, you both differed in various ways. While both superior dragons, neither of you came from the same bloodline. You are one of the rare Claw Brethren. There is also the act of betrayal. You've never held a monarch role like Crimson, so you simply left your previous ways of genocide on humans.

However, you both share a common goal, to take down the Dragon God. Except you didn't foresee that after working together for years, you would start to fall for the heartless mastermind.

But he wasn't truly heartless, you know this. No one got close to Crimson like you. In fact, you are the only living dragon other than Borgius to have seen Crimson in his monarch days. And you must say, it was quite the look.

All that being said, you have finally wiped out a bloodline, the Winged one at that! And you couldn't be happier to have done that, especially with Crimson at your side. Though you suppose the human deserves some credit.

"What we'll do is stay with the Sun Cult and follow their plans. Of course, this is subject to change, as you can't blindly follow homicidal cultists," Crimson was setting up the team's new plan since y'all don't really have one beyond killing dragons.

The team, of course, listened to the brains. Plus, you can't really put your trust in an organization willing to sacrifice their own people... With the end of the talk, each member dispersed to do as they pleased with their new free time. That left you to spend your time with Crimson...

"Tell me, do you really believe that boy will follow any plans the cult gives him?" You personally thought this human would ignore the Sun Cult as a whole, which ya know, makes a lot of sense.

Crimson smirked, but you could feel a mix of disappointment and anger coming off him, "I expect him to, but of course an ignorant brat who only cares about getting rid of bloodlines as soon as possible could derail my entire plan..."

You stared off into nothing, knowing there's not much comfort you can provide. You both sat on the loveseat, planning to have some productive conversation. Or at least you thought so.

Crimson broke the silence, surprisingly getting a bit emotional. Obviously, you couldn't tell from a glance at his face though. "Why are you so stupid as to stay around and follow my plans?"

You were stunned, Crimson is always so proud of his plans, shouldn't he be glad you follow without question?

"You have the strength to destroy a superior dragon, to fight one until daylight and watch it burn. So why don't you?" Crimson is praising you; something isn't right here.

You, getting caught in your feelings after so many centuries, thought saying the first thing that came to mind was absolutely genius, "have you ever considered it's because I love you?" NO- GO BACK GO BACK GO BACK.

No, you cannot go back. Now deal with the consequences of your actions. The consequences aren't that bad actually, it's just a reply, "wow, you're dumber than I thought."

Are you dumb? Sorta. You did fall for quite possibly the biggest asshole to walk this earth.

Now it'd be smart to shut up, yes? No, you will continue, but this time make it cringe, "I'm an idiot, but I can be your idiot."

With a look of shock to a sly smirk, Crimson says, "always have been." You are hiding in your hands, you foolish fool, how did you not see it?

Crimson moves your hands and slowly kisses you. Yeah, you definitely wanna kill the entire dragon species with this person. <3

i wrote this listening to International Love 👍

kinda cringe but gotta embrace it

[sheltershock]

Being sick is the worst. I can’t imagine how hard it would be for a psychic…or can I? 

Sasha already has a canon aversion to germs. I wouldn’t say he’s a hypochondriac, but he’d probably consider getting sick one of the worst things that can happen to him. The most dreadful part is the removal of his bodily autonomy. He's fine with smoking cigarettes, and is aware that they’re bad, but that’s a choice he’s making about his body. He did not choose for someone to come into his shared space sick, spread their germs around, and now he has the suffer the painful consequences of their actions. Absolutely not. Since he can’t really police sick people though he’s really conscious about germs and sanitation. He probably casually has boxes of disposable face masks just in case he has to encounter a sick person, and his aesthetic lets him get away with it for the most part without anyone suspecting anything offensive. But when he does get sick it’s him drifting in and out of consciousness trying to work from home, failing, and then succumbing to exhaustion. Lots of loss of productivity guilt.  

Sasha never thought he’d have to take care of anyone while they’re sick, after all that’s what hospitals are for, and he chose to not work in a hospital. But then at some point after they moved in together, Milla eventually got sick. Honestly his first thought was to leave and stay in a hotel until she got better. She said she’d be fine and that she can take care of herself anyway. But they’re together, and seeing Milla upset/unwell makes him…uncomfortable. Plus, he’s probably already been exposed anyway so…he chose to stay. He moved into the living space  for the foreseeable future, keeping everything as disinfected as possible and left the bedroom to serve as a quarantine. Milla was initially surprised to wake up to see Sasha still there, knowing what he’s like, but was ultimately happy by it. 

As a caretaker, Milla is used to germs. She’s pretty much ready to be a nurse to whoever for however long it takes for them to recover from their sickness. She keeps track of medicine and administration times, food and drinks, cleanliness, even just being nearby and available for emotional needs. She’s got everything under control, so there’s nothing to worry about. She applies the same philosophy as herself being sick: you just need to slow down and rest up, darling.

Milla, however, was not expecting that she wouldn’t really receive the same level of care from Sasha she gives to everyone else when they’re sick. He’d almost never be in the room with her, no matter how many times she’d try to convince him. He’d happily talk to her through telepathy but it wasn’t really the same to her. She had the romantic idea of her feverishly speaking her mind as her lover grasped her hand from her bedside, like in romantic comedies. And even if they both ended up catching the same illness at least they could stay with each other in painful solidarity. Sasha did not find this fantasy funny nor romantic. Whenever he was in the room with her, he always had a medical mask and disposable gloves on. But that was a rare sight after she kept trying to grasp his wrist to convince him to stay with her. She completely understands why he wouldn’t, but it still hurt. 

Instead of bringing out food or drinks, Milla would wake up to bowls on the bedside table and glasses of water. It initially took her a few hours and several micro naps to realize the glass hadn’t actually become empty despite how much she’d drink. Medicine would be laid out nicely with handwritten notes with instructions and timecards which listed out the previous times she’d woken up to take them. The washcloths on her forehead, around her neck and wrapped around her wrists hadn’t dried out yet.

Milla considers getting sick as a sign from the universe or just her body that she needs to slow down and take care of herself. Her body is looking for her! And since she’s pretty active and generally healthy, Milla doesn’t get sick very often, which only serves to prove her own mindset. She doesn’t have any problems with taking those sick days off, sleeping most of the day, watching TV, having soup and warm drinks…she just wishes she felt like doing any of those things. The aches and pains just make her really clingy to anyone willing to give her the time of day, willing to talk their ear off. She doesn't enjoy being alone for long periods of time when she’s well, and she especially doesn't like it when she’s sick. And in the delirium that comes with a fever, her control over her own mind slips.

Fever dreams mock her pain as the Nightmares twist and tangle her past and present emotions into a living hell. While technically someone could go in there and defeat all her Nightmares, they’d just reform quicker than it’s worth to get rid of them. Her fatigue from the illness has her subconscious mostly taking the reins rather than her waking mind. And as a result,  the regeneration time is insane as her memories fire off in jumbled slideshows some people would refer to as dreams. As much as she’d like to spend all her time sick staying up with the hypnotic static of a TV screen, the stable pages of a book or the allure of a new conversation, she has to return to that world eventually. There are few things that can alleviate her Nightmares on good days, and even less on her worst ones. But sometimes, despite her illness, Sasha will climb in with Milla and hold her while she sleeps. 

She’d stir amongst feverish dreams where party guests shrink and don the distorted screaming faces of people long lost. Beside frigid, hissing flames she’d feel sheets and blankets she’s under shift, and hear mumbles about how sticky the linen is with lukewarm sweat. And as she opens her eyes she’d see her upper body and head be moved so a pair of arms securely wrap themselves around her shoulders and waist. Another shiver would slide down her spine. Boiling parts of her body that were locked away under the blankets would be exposed to the cruel air conditioned exterior. 

But she’d feel the warmth wrapped around her upper body from the new embrace and yawn. Tears would well in her eyes from the pulsating rhythm down her neck, and her lover would shudder, being all too knowledgeable about the germs being released as she opened her mouth. A shaky hand would find its way to the side of her head. She coughed, quickly grasping onto the much cleaner fabric of her lover’s clothes. But as she eased her breathing she’d feel a slow, soothing stroking sensation ever so lightly on the surface of her scalp, through her hair, and to the bare skin of her neck. 

Her eyelids would grow heavy again. But unwilling to return the fiery hellscape currently commandeering her own party, she’d forcibly grasp them open again. She’d yawn again, and feel the hand combing through her hair twitch– just for a second. But Sasha is here. She allows her vision to fall to black, and just focuses on feeling the rise and fall of his chest and the slightly faster heart rate. Like the lull of a moving train, she’d drift off and her dreams would be a little less worse. Faces become transparent. Frostbitten, charred wallpaper is more vibrant. The vocals of the music fall to murmurs. The real world still calls. Still hearing the hum of the air conditioner, feeling the rise and fall akin to warm ocean waves and the scent of something she can’t quite put her finger on through her stuffy nose, but she knows smells good. 

She hums lightly, about to say something, but the vibrations only make the soreness worse. She opens her mouth, before closing it and burying her face farther into his chest. She swallows and her throat burns. A weight from the back of her head tilts towards her face and everything starts to feel more distant. She clutches the fabric harder. It twists in her grimy fingers. 

The arm around her waist shifts as a hand reaches up to cusp the side of her jawline. With one arm around her back and the other resting over her breast, she sighs into another yawn. Exhaling softly, her grip loosens as her fingers relax and rests into the mild heat of a warm body. And her mind does too. 

For a brief moment she looks through her eyes again. The blankets bear different patterns. Her arms are wrapped around a pillow, but it’s just as soft. Light pours into the hallway from a widening door frame. The mirror inside the hallway bathroom is completely fogged up. An arm stretches into view as the light disappears with a click. Milla’s eyes close and she can hear the kettle hiss as she drifts off again. 

[captainsteveamericarogers]

Why are you so quiet? Everyone has gone insane and making up new facts every five minutes, you're usually the first one to lose your patience and lay it down. You're obviously on Chris' side yet you're letting people talk shit about him. You need to say something!!

I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted. You talk as if I'm some matriarch of the fandom when in fact I'm just a mediocre fanfic writer who is exhausted with this whole debacle and it's barely been two weeks. Nobody listens to me!

Today I saw a magnificent example of both Chinese whispers and alternative facts in this fandom. The person who alleged that CE was at her work for medical imaging, who I suspect was also the author of the now-deleted Reddit post, only tweeted that she had found out he was at her work. I appreciate that many people deleted the screenshots of the tweet as it was a gross invasion of his privacy and a HIPAA violation that, if true, would have very serious consequences for both the tweeter and her employer, and that a lot of people didn't see it. But suddenly people were talking about an actual x-ray or MRI image that had been posted and deleted. There was never an image. That didn't stop a few people from saying they knew someone who had seen it, which adds credence to the rumour despite being a lie due to there never being an image.

A lie can run around the world before the truth has got its boots on - The Truth by Terry Pratchett

We are seeing this in action every single day since the People article. I've seen people make the most outlandish claims. Suddenly, everyone has a friend who knows his flight details or what he ate for dinner. It's utterly demented. It's beyond crazy.

Let's go through all of the utter horse shit I can recall from the past fortnight. Shall we have more bullet points?

It's all PR

They have a contract for two years (how could anyone possibly know this?)

Chris obviously cannot stand Alba anywhere near him

The girl in the park who was forced to delete her Twitter was in on it and planted there to record

Chris has been personally seeking out Tumblrinas to block on Twitter

Narrative PR wrote the deranged fan letters to make the fandom "look crazy" (lol) and garner sympathy for Chris

Literally anyone who sticks up for Chris or Alba is, in fact, Chris or Alba or their moms

Alba wore a halter to WDW to show off her tattoo and be recognised (Really? Who on earth is going to recognise her?)

She only flew into FL to record the video and then left immediately (y'all really don't like them spending time together, huh?)

They are reading every single post every single gossip blog writes and using the comments to make their fake PR relationship more convincing

There's more but this is so exhausting. If you take one thing from this post, let it be this. Take EVERYTHING with a pinch of salt, no matter who posts it and how sure they seem. Sometimes people are right and sometimes they are wrong. This fandom has a nasty habit of voicing their opinions as facts, then others take that and run with it, like today with the medical imaging business.

The fact is, nobody cares whether or not you believe it. But you are devoting hours of your life, every single day, dissecting everything and going around and around in circles and it is not healthy. It is not healthy at all. Take some time off or at least talk about something else.

Someone asked what I personally think is happening with Chris and Alba, so I'll leave you with my thoughts. It's serious. They are in love. I think they'll probably get married sooner rather than later. The laser focused comment was an FYI, telling the fandom that he's going to be taking his foot off the gas and concentrating on his private life for the foreseeable future. Take it with a pinch of salt. 🤷🏽‍♀️

[theflyindutchwoman]

To mess or not to mess with Chenford… Grey's edition

So was Grey messing with Tim and Lucy in that video clip? That is the million dollar question. Here's the thing. As watch commander, if Grey saw any hint of impropriety, he has to act on it. Regardless of his feelings on that matter. The only leeway he has, is how he choses to go at it (and that's a short leeway). Now he is quite perceptive so it's hard to imagine him having no clue about Tim and Lucy. He knows they are close. No question about it. I mean, that was the reason he suggested Lucy as Tim's aide in the first place. Note that it was a professional advice though, not a personal one. Now does he know they are about to start dating… Hard to say. Tim and Lucy's awkwardness when he told her to go back on aide-duty was so loud, he couldn't ignore it. But if he thought they were involved in any way, he would not have had them ride together either. However, he might have come to the conclusion that it was now only a matter of time.

And that's the thing. He can't ask them directly if they're dating because it puts them all in an awkward position : . Either they fess up : he has to take action, meaning removing one out of that chain of command and that might be hard if there's no opening in the department for either one (for TV purposes, Tim & Lucy need to stay in Mid-Wilshire). That's where Tim's future promotion could play a role here. Lucy is stuck in patrol for the foreseeable future (she still needs at least 1 more year before she can move out). Tim could get more opportunities as long as a position opens up. . Either they deny it : it could later be construed as a lie and... not good. So I could see Grey use the potential situation with Celina and Aaron as an indirect warning to them, a preventive step to remind them the rules, without asking directly (or making things more awkward if he misread the situation). Like many have already said, Aaron and Celina have never riden together, unlike a certain couple… Which would seem to indicate he is referring to Lucy & Tim.

Now maybe he's truly messing with them and there's no Aaron x Celina, it's just his way of saying they are busted… And play a prank on them as payback for the times he had to be involved in their shenanigans. But I doubt he would just gloss over the issue at hand. At least, I hope not. What he said in the sneak peek remains true. Power dynamics in the work place is not a laughing matter. It has serious implications and consequences. Not to mention as Lucy's superior officer, in her direct chain of command, Tim could face demotion or worse. There was a reason he did list it as a roadblock to Angela. I sincerely doubt the show would use that issue as a mere comedic ploy. But if Grey is messing with them, then that means he is aware and support them. In which case I still hope we'll see them have a serious talk about all the pitfalls laying ahead. And make sure there was no issue before either (again, those rules are there for a reason). I would love for him to support them and help them navigate these new waters, so that they can come on the other side unscathed.

If there's really a Celina x Aaron, and Grey truly has no clue about Chenford, then I can understand why Grey would rather involve Lucy than Nolan. For one, he might assume that this conversation would be better suited if coming from another female officer. Especially one like Lucy who can break it to her quite gently and doesn't work directly with her on the daily. It was already hard on Lucy when Talia talked to her about Nolan… Imagine if it had been Tim (although good luck with that one considering Isabel). He can also see Lucy as an example for how to be close to a superior officer without crossing the line. Which would be so ironic. Second, with Lucy, it stays on an informal level. Involving her TO might make it seem too official. There's the chance that it could color John's perception of Celina or make things awkward between them. Not something he'd want to risk when they're still learning the ropes of being a TO/a police officer. Of course, there's a certain irony that Nolan would perfectly understand the situation. And he is close to his rookie, I just don't think that Grey knows the full extent to it. Also… If Tim has to talk to Aaron, that'd be hilarious… He'd have to be very careful about what he says. Especially if/when Aaron finds out about Chenford. Call out #2 coming up?

In either case.. Just a couple of more days before we get more insights on where Season 5B is going!

[aajjks]

we’re a team okay? i’ll piggyback off of you. just write what comes to mind 😊

mommy issues!JK

“i’m so sorry jungkook. i just…i can’t take it anymore!” you pant.

“OK calm down she deserved it. I’m so proud of you”

jungkook takes the metal baseball bat from your hand and does his best to calm you down. he slowly caresses your face before bringing you in for a hug; God, he’s so proud of you. never in a million years would he foresee something like this and despite him being a little shaken up (including eunwoo) he’s jumping for joy right now. nara has met her match and it’s you.

“i’m pretty sure nara is going to sue you, y/n but don’t worry. i’ve got a good lawyer for you”

“thanks eunwoo”

it’s so good to know that despite your impulsive and illegal actions, there are still people rooting for you. pedestrians walking the streets and even jungkook’s coworkers gather to watch nara lose her mind over the damages you’ve dealt to her car and when she sees you and jungkook together, that’s the final straw.

“HOW DARE YOU HUG THIS BITCH AFTER SHE DESTROYED MY PRECIOUS ROSY!!!” you roll your eyes. she even named the stupid the car?

“you know what? you’re FIRED!!!!!!! YOU, EUNWOO, AND ALINA ARE FIRED!!!! and you? you’re dead. you’re soooo fucking dead. i’d watch my back if i were you, bitch”

after that, nara angrily storms off leaving the three of you to reap the consequences of your actions. “i’m-i’m so sorry you guys. i shouldn’t have done that. what was i thinking? i should’ve just—,” you don’t even want to look at jungkook’s or eunwoo’s face because you’re sure they’re angry at you.

“hey, don’t cry. it’s okay, y/n” says eunwoo but you just shake your head. your hands are covering your face and you can’t help but feel awful for what you’ve done.

“alina is gonna kill me. i’m so sorry, guys”

“y/n it’s okay! we were already thinking about quitting anyways. remember that job in incheon? welllllllll alina works there. that’s why she hasn’t been here. i can get her to put in a good word for us and BAM!”

“but it’s not close to busan—,”

“it’s a teleworking job. she only goes to incheon like once or twice a month”

you wonder if eunwoo had this planned the whole time. he’s always looking out for jungkook and he knew this nara situation would blow out of proportion one day. there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his little brother and after seeing you stand up for jungkook the way you did he can’t help but like you a lot more.

“so quit crying, alright? i got it handled. our main focus is your protection. she threatened to kill you and knowing her family, they can easily arrange that”

~🫧

“if she even touches a hair on your body, I will actually murder her.” Something inside him snaps when eunwoo mentions the possibility of the Jang family hurting you for hurting their precious princess.

And he’s not too worried about losing his job because a few tears in front of his mother and he will become the CEO of the JH INDUSTRIES. His Mother is from a very rich background herself.

She fell in love with his dad and they got married, of course his father is quite rich too, but he’s just so greedy always wanting more… but they’re old and he’s their only child… and he’s got an heir.

He knows that his mother misses him because she’s always texting him, calling him longing to see her only grandchild, but jungkook did not allow it because she did not protect him when he needed her protection and support.

“Yn how about you quit your job at the school? I mean you’ve got quite a qualification if you want I could get you a job at my mothers company.” Jungkook suggests.

“I know teaching is what you love to do but seriously I don’t think it’s worth it… she has tarnished your reputation and you deserve better… and honestly it’s a huge problem because you cannot date me and I really want you to date me without any shame or guilt.”

This is a golden opportunity and he’s taking it

You have no idea about his background and it’s gonna be a hassle to explain that he’s actually from a rich background.., are you gonna think of him of him less?

“And eunwoo is right. I’ve got the incheon job too…” he winks. He cannot stand to see you so stressed out and so guilty because this is not your fault you only took your revenge.

And as for him killing… he killed his father’s mistress. She deserved to die. And the mistress was Nara’s auntie.

How could his father even think of betraying his mother who loves him more than her life? Nobody knows how she died because it was disguised as a suicide.

He’s not a killer and he didn’t want to become one, but.. he just cannot stand it when someone tries to hurt the ones he loves.

“Come yn- and eunwoo. We will have lunch together somewhere. I guess I am starving.”

“DUDE I am completely famished and I guess I will eat you if I don’t get to eat something right now.”

You both laugh at eunwoo.

And God knows you have the most gorgeous laugh.

[noa-ciharu]

Sin gonna be sin--- FuuKam with no.137♥ please♥♥

Not me finally writing a seven months old prompt :D alright so I've come up with 2.3k of shameless porn. Little bit of sadism, delay/denial, Fuuma's idea of unsafe bdsm practice and Kamui being a masochist - in other words, nothing new for those two horny kinky hormonal messes. Set in X universe ofc 😈

I wrote this sin while listening to this. Thank you NIN for your horny songs, they suit horny messed up X ships to the T. NSFW so entire fic is under cut

137 - "You're so beautiful spreed out like this, just for me"

Just how did he get into this mess?

Kamui kept on asking himself just that as pain and pleasure blended into one. Fingers curled inside him, stretched open for who knows which time. Sparks ignited again, as well as ache. He tossed head to side, grinded teeth and hissed. Sweat rolled down temple, shivers down spine. Fingers eased out a bit, skimmed over rim. Ecstasy made him tremble and groan; but also grind back into ounce of bliss he was given, like pain and obscenity didn’t deteriorate in slightest. Kamui squirmed around but couldn’t break free; hands tied above head, he couldn’t move them an inch. He snapped eyes shut and prayed for his captor to show mercy and finally give him what he wished for. Kamui knew he was aware of just what he desperately craved for but purposely ignored it.

Friction sickened and overwhelmed in same breath. He wished for ecstasy to tone down and never end.

Even behind closed eyelids he could see Fuuma’s ardent stare; could feel those amber eyes piercing into very soul. Fear spread through veins but so did the fire. Kamui couldn’t negate duality residing within. Truly, they were cut from the same cloth, at this point he was no less depraved than one introducing him to this salacious pain-pleasure was.

It all started about an hour ago. Another earthquake struck. No Seals were nearby so Kamui had no option but to try deal with Dragons of Earth on his own. He rushed to the epicenter and was met with no other than Fuuma; or at least his new cruel self. After brief fighting, one-sided yelling and pleading for answers he’ll never get and destruction of surrounding buildings (courtesy of his inability to raise a Kekkai) Kamui defeated once more got slammed against the wall. Bruised and covered in numerous cuts he had no strength to push Fuuma away. In next to no time he was cornered and subdued.

This is the end – or so Kamui thought back then. However instead of being injured further he was touched in very… libertine way. Aside being clearly amorous it’s not to say touch wasn’t ruthless; certainly did hurt, especially given previous injuries. There wasn’t a thing about Fuuma that didn’t ache in some way, that’s cruel reality Kamui was forced to get accustomed to. Fuuma fetched rope from somewhere and tied his hands to a broken pipe; then ripped all his clothes. Why he laid there passively and allowed to be stripped to bare skin, Kamui couldn’t fathom. Perhaps it all happened all too fast for him to comprehend consequences of his actions; or inactions in this case. Or so Kamui wanted to believe, anything else would mark beginning of his end.

Perhaps he was too naive or just caught in the moment – but not for a second did it cross Kamui’s mind what Fuuma would do to him; what he’ll allow to be done. He was laid on stone slab and teased relentlessly; from sensual licks to brutal bites, not for a moment did Fuuma slow down. Kisses and caresses slid lower and lower; in process Kamui’s traitorous body began reacting. He was covered in bite-marks, bruises and hickeys; as well as blood from previous fight. In retrospect what was he expecting? Given how Fuuma has been treating him in past few months, not so subtle sexual edge to every touch, every word and gaze nothing less was foreseeable.

Alas, instead of jerking him off or even fucking brutally like Kamui assumed Fuuma would he settled on merciless endless teasing. And that’s how Kamui ended up with spreed legs, achingly hard untouched cock and two fingers inside ass. Oh if only pace was just as swift and ferocious as Fuuma’s previous touches were, Kamui would have reached peak long ago. But no, instead it was sweet torture that got halted whenever he neared close to orgasm. Really, it’ll be no surprise if he came over himself like an animal, completely untouched.

Fingers spreed into v-shape, abruptly pulled out and thrust inside. Heat ignited within veins, rushed towards groin. Just as he started hoping he’ll finally cum Fuuma halted all movements yet once more. Kamui let out a desperate whimper, no longer bothering to hold back tears; they mixed with all the sweat covering his body. At this point he had no doubt he’ll be begging very very soon.

“Let me go Fuuma!” - instead he yelled. Even before Fuuma smirked at him Kamui knew he chose wrong course of action. Protesting he only whetted this sadist’s appetite.

Fuuma raised above him; at first just caressed cheek and softly gazed into his eyes. Nothing short of deception, Kamui knew deep down he was being tricked into false sense of security; yet still couldn’t help craving those affections.

Fingertips dug into open wound on chest. Kamui sealed lips shut and groaned; didn’t want to allow Fuuma satisfaction of seeing him crumble. Knuckles glided against cheek, smeared collected blood over face; then Fuuma leaned in and licked tears streaming down over bruised and bloodied skin. Fingertips glided over rim of his hole; it contracted in return, implicitly invited. Kamui mewled and trembled at that utter ecstasy; odd how such intangible touch could electrify to the core.

“Is that really what you want?”, Fuuma hushed above him, eyes never leaving his. Kamui shivered at depth of his voice. He’s never been looked at so… ardently before; like Fuuma wanted to devour him whole, tear apart like a starved animal. Needless to say such hungry stare threw him off loop; yet enkindles flame within at same breath.

Strangely but undeniably: he wished for more. And that’s precisely what he got.

Touch slid lower. Fuuma pinched his left nipple and at same time finally thrust fingers inside him. Oh gosh, the ache, the pure bliss. Kamui closed eyes and moaned; his erection twitched repetitively, more precome rushed out; embarrassing how hard and wet he became at this sweet torture. Fuuma took note of all that as he chuckled one more. Brutal press over right nipple, then he lowered hand down his body.

Knuckles glided over swollen cock, touch so insubstantial it tantalized. Disregarding all dignity Kamui frantically grinded hips up; desperate attempt to ride what little pleasure he was given. He knew that friction will vanish very soon.

“Somehow I doubt that”, Fuuma commented further, sadistic grin ever-present on lips. He rotated wrist and began rapidly thrusting fingers inside; with other hand finally gripped his erection and pressed thumb over tip. Kamui screamed.

To hell with restrain, he didn’t care at this point! Pleasure drove him insane! Fuuma kept on ramming inside for few more seconds. Without any care Kamui grinded down on his fingers like his life depended on it. Because it just might. Ecstasy obtained was brief. The exact moment Fuuma detected he was nearing orgasm he pulled away; leaned over him and reveled in Kamui’s desperation. Fucking sadist.

“Why are you doing this?”, Kamui managed to murmur in between choking on tears and saliva. He was so aroused it hurt! When will this all come to an end? All blood in body rushed to face and swollen erection; his arms went numb long ago, breaking free now is nothing but pipe dream.

Apparently wasn’t the only one affected. Fuuma gripped his hips and grinded clothed erection against his ass. Kamui moaned in turn; desperate attempt to get Fuuma to finally bring whatever this thing between them was to forgone conclusion. Yet all in vain for Fuuma simply kept on leering down at him and ignored bother their desires. For a moment Kamui wondered if he could throw Fuuma’s game back into his face and seduce him into point of breaking; opted out of it as tempting the devil could backfire catastrophically.

“I thought that was obvious Kamui”, Fuuma hushed and traveled hands up his waist; brutally pinched and pulled at nipples; rolled them between fingers before pressing over them again.

In turn Kamui could just trembled and moan. He kept on grinding hips up but couldn’t obtain any friction. Fuuma glided thumb over trail of blood sliding from cut on shoulder; raised it to Kamui’s mouth and pushed finger pass lips. Ugh, what unsavory taste. Nonetheless he licked the finger clean, all in dire need to please and be rewarded.

“Because I can”, Fuuma added and wrapped hands around his neck.

So much for begin rewarded. Kamui’s breath hitched in throat, eyes widened. This was anything but safe; danger spelled in italic and bold. Fuuma could snap his neck in half in a blink of an eye. And all Kamui could do is lay there and let Fuuma dominate him; allegorically and quite literally hold Kamui’s life in his hands. His arms were bond, legs trembling due to throbbing arousal and mind mushy – he couldn’t break free even if he wanted to. Pressure on neck intensified; electrified. What a depraved mess he’s been reduced to; nothing normal about being turned on by such eminent danger. He closed eyes, tried to calm down arousal within blood and waited for the inevitable.

Except brutality never came. Fuuma removed hands from his neck and gripped waist instead. Kamui let out a relieved sigh; opened eyes and was instantly met with sardonic grin.

“And more importantly: because you let me” – Fuuma gloated. In turn rage enkindled inside Kamui; true, but there was no need for rubbing salt into wound.

“I didn’t – ahhh!”

Whatever he plan on saying got cut off when Fuuma encircled fist around his cock and finally started pumping. Deep down Kamui knew this was just another round of teasing yet couldn’t stop himself from grinding back into touch; writhing and moaning to that utter painful ecstasy. Heat pooled in groin at alarming rate, his erection twitched uncontrollably. Just a few seconds more and he’ll finally get to cum. Oh gosh! Oh how sweet will release kept at bay for so long be, he could almost feel it! Just a bit more and -

Iron grip over base got him screaming. Whether it was pain or pleasure or both, Kamui had no clue. But what he did know for certain was that he couldn’t control himself any longer. Tears streamed down cheeks, drool down chin; he lost count how many orgasms were denied by now. He was aroused to the point where no matter how feathery touch was it hurt. Hurt so goddamn much. But also ignited fire within veins. He needed that sweet ache more than oxygen at this point.

For a moment all stimulation was put on hold. Fuuma knelt between his legs and stared. Stared very openly. Oh gosh. So embarrassing. Yet Kamui couldn’t deny each place his gaze wandered over scorched. He felt so objectified, so desired; wanted this torture to stop and never end.

“You’re so beautiful”, Fuuma whispered and caressed his cheek. Touch tender, look in eyes anything but.

“Spreed out like this”, he added, eyes roaming over Kamui’s naked body Then starved gaze wandered down to his groin. Fuuma leered and licked lips. Kamui blushed bright red and tried to snap legs shut; could not when Fuuma was kneeling between them.

Of course he wasn’t having it. Fuuma gripped his legs and spreed them further. Glided knuckles over inner thighs and teased huskily - “Just for me”

Heat got to Kamui’s face; he was blushing so hard he though he might passed out. Kamui wished he could hide but knew that not only his body was bared for Fuuma’s eyes but soul as well. It was all too much; and yet nowhere near enough. Tongue flickered over thigh down to groin; then over shaft. Oh the mind-blowing ecstasy! Inhuman how much he craved it. Kamui trembled and screamed; he desperately grinded into Fuuma’s tongue in hope he’ll finally achieve long-denied orgasm. His toes curled, vision blurred at edges; spine arched and lips quivered. All nerves set aflame, just a second longer and -

“Not so fast Kamui”

- another iron grip over base of his cock stopped him from cumming at last second. More tears slid down cheeks. Frustration ate him alive! Kamui wanted to scream but didn’t want to give Fuuma that satisfaction; so he bit lips to the point of bleeding. He was throbbing at this point, never in his life he’s been so hard or waited so much for an orgasm.

Sadistic chuckle from Fuuma, he raised up and licked fresh trail of blood sliding down chin; this is closest to a kiss they’ve ever gotten, Kamui’s lust-hazed mind supplied. Kisses and licks slid down sweaty skin; of course area where Kamui wanted friction the most was ignored. Fucking perfect.

Eventually Fuuma made it back to his thighs. He traced bites and kisses over still unmarred skin. No doubt it’ll be covered in hickeys and bite-marks by tomorrow morning – that is if he lives to see it. At this point Kamui had no other option but to lay back and let Fuuma do whatever he wants to do to him. Still, he’d be lying if he claimed he didn’t take perverse pleasure in this tantalizing game of denial.

“Let me play with you a bit more” - Fuuma glanced up and smirked; in turn all heat in Kamui’s body rushed south. He had no business looking so attractive while being so sadistic. Disheveled hair, playful glint in amber eyes and flushed cheeks – understatement to say Kamui was delighted at seeing Fuuma affected as well; at that moment he wished he could touch Fuuma too but knew any demands for being unbound will go ignored.

With one hand Fuuma held his left leg upwards and sucked inside thigh; fingers on other skimmed over rim of his entrance, pushed in just enough to enkindle sweetest bliss but not deep enough to truly pleasure. Kamui’s back arched from slab below, moan after moan slipping from bruised lips. Another round of teasing - Kamui hoped it will be the last as he had no clue how further he could go. He prayed to heaven above Fuuma will eventually show mercy.