#when they do get him to play blue immediately explodes a hole in the side of the house bc they fucked up a potion lol

[i3utterflyeffect]

It takes so much effort to convince stick!Alan to play Minecraft

all of them are begging him to play minecraft with them and he's just thinking back on all the times they fucked up his computer by doing things that seem perfectly harmless and innocuous. and they have to fucking PROMISE they won't try any dumb shit on the computer because it's not going to be as easy as a restart if they fuck something up

[t1oui]

@jegulus-microfic | may 3rd: rush | 727 words

“Do I look alright?” James asks for the hundredth time. His voice sounds funny. “Merlin, do I sound alright? What am I even supposed to say?”

Sirius marches over to him, forcefully grabbing his shoulders and turning him around, away from the mirror.

“You say nice things,” he says sternly. “Because he is my baby brother.”

Sirius has been very supportive, James thinks.

“Right,” he agrees. His voice sounds a bit better now. Sirius nods.

“Don’t worry, Prongs,” Remus says, wandering over from his desk by the windows. “He’s crazy about you already.”

Sirius punches him in the arm. “My baby brother,” he says, an aggressive reminder. Remus holds his hands up in surrender. He turns back to James, waving his wand to cast a tempus. “Best get going,” he says. “You don’t want to be late.”

James checks the time: 10:53. Fuck. He’s supposed to be in the entrance hall by 11.

“Fuck,” he says out loud. Remus snorts. Sirius narrows his eyes.

“You better make this good, Potter,” he almost snarls. Remus places a hand on his shoulder to calm him. Peter rolls his eyes. He’s behind them, so only James can see.

“Bye,” James calls. It’s still warm enough out that he doesn’t need a coat. A little chilly, sure, but James has always run warm. He knocks on one of the wooden columns of Peter’s four-poster. “Bye, Pete.”

“Good luck, Prongs,” he replies, not looking up from his book.

James flies down the stairs and careens into the common room. He’s halfway to the portrait hole when someone grabs him for the second time today. He whirls around to find Lily smiling up at him, one hand on his shoulder and the other holding a pink rose.

“James,” she says softly. “Hey. Calm down.” She holds out the rose, and he takes it hesitantly. “Dora brought me a bouquet the other day,” she explains. “Thought you might want one?”

James stares at her for a moment. Then he nods. “Thank you, Lils.”

She waves him off, stepping away. “Don’t mention it,” she says. She nods to the portrait hole. “I’d get going if I were you.”

He nods, shouting one last thanks over his shoulder as he steps out. Lily shakes her head with a smile, heading back to her room.

James is going so fast that he nearly falls through a trick step. He stumbles, shakes it off, and continues running through the castle. He trips over a group of first years playing exploding snap on a landing. “Sorry!” he calls over his shoulder. The first years watch him with bewildered, confused expressions before going back to their game.

James steps into an alcove once he’s reached the bottom of the stairs, casting a tempus. 10:59. He has one minute. He flattens down his hair and regulates his breathing as much as he can before finally putting on a smile and stepping out. He spots Regulus almost immediately, standing in the entrance hall right where they agreed to meet. He’s got a book in one hand. As James approaches, he looks up from an expensive-looking watch, aristocratic features spreading into a warm smile.

“Right on time,” he says. James stutters to a stop taking him in. Regulus is wearing a dark blue button-up over black slacks and boots. His hair is neatly parted in the middle, pushing his short curls to either side of his face, hanging over his ears. He cocks his head to one side. “Are you alright?”

And it’s those three words, the way Regulus’s mouth moves around them, that inspire James to rush forward, closing the distance between them by swooping Regulus into a hug and pressing a kiss to his temple. Regulus laughs, tossing his arms around James’s shoulders. His laugh is so beautiful.

“Jamie,” he snorts. James presses their foreheads together and stares into Regulus’s eyes. They’re the color of clouds on a winter day. James could get lost in them. Regulus smiles at him. “This is a bit of a strong reaction for a first date, don’t you think?” he asks softly. James thinks. Thinks about the months of wanting, of loving, of needing. Thinks about Sirius gagging as loudly as possible when he kissed Regulus on Platform 9 ¾. James grins.

“No,” he says. “I don’t think.”

Regulus snorts, and James kisses his smile.

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (February 2/2021)

The Crimson has continued to whisper. It has a plan for everyone. Each person plays a part in its plot. But some people resist their plans.

---

- Ponk has heard the Egg, and it’s been getting mad. It’s telling him to sacrifice Fran.

- Ponk plants more seeds in Awesam’s home.

- He’s having doubts. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. What would happen to Purpled if he didn’t kill Fran?

- Ponk does what must be done and kills F ran, not Fran. He can’t kill Fran.

- Ponk uses ancient magic and secrets to transport himself to the farm house.

- He goes down into the basement and reads a book.

- The book tells a story of a man made of straw with emerald eyes who is fascinated by lemons, and a new land of gold and sandstone. 

The man talks of ancient magic and gifts 21 statues to be transported in boats.

- Jack keeps hearing cats in the walls. He tells Shrimpy about the statues.

- Jack gets the urge to murder. Helga is tempting, but her husband absolutely needs to go.

- Jack ends up alone with Shrimpy and the statues.

- Ponk creates a portal for easier travel.

- Tommy comes online. He sees all the Blood Vines everywhere and doesn’t like that they’re on his territory.

- He goes over to Sam Nook, who tells him to clear all the weeds and Crimson from the build site. Tommy is disappointed with the lack of progress on the hotel, so he beats Sam up.

- Sam Nook explains that he’s worried that Awesam might not be alright and has been missing. Tommy tells him to not let his emotions get in the way of business. Sam says that Awesam might need more payment to prioritize the building of the hotel.

- Sam asks for two stacks of diamonds.

- Tommy asks Foolish for diamonds, then comes across Ponk on the path.

- Tommy offers him marijuana. Ponk says he only smokes pain au chocolat.

- Ponk leads Tommy through the Nether, saying he can give diamonds. He brings Tommy to ancestor Jack’s estate, telling him not to go downstairs. Tommy immediately goes downstairs and tells Ponk that these villagers are breaking the rules.

- Ponk gives Tommy 33 diamonds blocks in exchange for 3 pieces of kelp.

- Tommy gives the diamonds to Sam Nook, who says he’ll deliver them to Awesamdude.

- Sam Nook asks Tommy to deliver flyers to potential customers, and also to clear out the Egg.

- Sam Nook has not had contact with Awesam since Awesam’s encounter with the Egg.

- Tommy goes down to the Egg Room.

The Crimson begins to scream.

“Do you think you’re powerful than I AM?”

- Tommy goes to the Egg but...hesitates. If he destroys it, he’d start a war and everyone would be after his head. He’d start the biggest war on the entire server. He shouldn’t be reckless. Look what happened to L’manburg.

- How’s the Egg ever actually hurt anyone? It didn’t really hurt Tubbo, did it? Everyone else loves the Egg.

- Maybe he could control it?

- He takes the piece he cut off of the real Egg and replaces the injury to the Egg with a piece of Vine. If he puts the piece of real Crimson at his hotel, then he could say it’s endorsed by the Egg.

- Ponk, his eyes red (he might be high) starts attacking Tommy and Tommy runs.

- Tommy brings the Egg piece to Sam and gets stabbed to death by Antfrost. Punz arrives as well. Sam Nook tells them to get away.

- The Egg piece is in the Ender Chest.

- Tommy writes the first flyer to Dream. If he ever escapes from prison, Dream’s invited to come to the hotel as long as he pays.

I will be checking in on you soon.

He gives it to Sam Nook to deliver.

- He also writes a flyer for Tubbo, and one for Technoblade.

- Afterwards, Sam puts things in the chest and reads the book Tommy wrote for Dream. He takes off the Sam Nook outfit and puts on the Warden’s armor (possible switch of character?) He takes the Dream book and says he’ll “save that with us.”

- He says he should’ve given Sam Nook more things for Tommy to do.

- Awesam heads home. He hasn’t been home in a while, he’s been busy with the prison. He’s excited to see Fran again.

- His home is covered in Vines, and the murmurs of the Crimson can be heard.

The Crimson whispers as Sam approaches Fran, who is sitting there patiently. Strange that she appeared up there. Wasn’t she downstairs?

“No, no! You can’t have Fran, you can’t have Fran! What do you mean? No, I won’t give you Fran.”

The Crimson speaks again.

- Sam starts breaking the Vines as the Crimson continues.

---

(The Crimson says numerous lines throughout, unsure of when each one is played specifically)

“Do you think you’re more powerful than I am do you think you’re more powerful than I am do you think you’re more powerful than I am”

“I can save Fran, just give yourself to me.”

“How...how did you escape my grasp?”

---

- Sam destroys the seeds of the Crimson that Ponk placed.

- Sam gets rid of most of it as the Crimson murmurs incessantly.

- Callahan dies with no specific death message and leaves the game (this death message isn’t possible normally, without code or plugins)

- It’s too much. Sam starts exploding his home with TNT to try and get rid of all that remains.

- He breaks the last piece and the Crimson goes silent.

- Sam gathers the remnants and destroys them with the blue fire in Sapnap’s room.

- Sam goes back to the mainland and is horrified by how out of control the Vines have gotten. He flies to the prison and makes sure there’s not any there.

- He finds Ponk hiding in a box, his eyes still red (he’s still high)

- Sam goes down to the Egg Room.

The Crimson speaks, ever loudly.

- Sam gets scared and runs back up.

- Sam goes to Church Prime. Antfrost whispers to him in Galactic.

We know you hear our call, you cannot resist us.

- Ponk blows a hole in the church by accident.

“Don’t tell XD man.”

- Sam brings him snacks. Ponk asks if he has any plans for the 14th.

- Antfrost says hello.

- Sam goes to the meeting room and sees Antfrost down there. He has pearls this time. He jumps down into the Egg Room. Antfrost is just standing there next to the Egg.

- Sam speaks with Antfrost. Ant is just talking to the Egg, and asks if Sam has heard its voice. 

- Sam asks what it says to him just as Bad also logs on.

“It says what it says to all of us, Sam.”

- Antfrost just says the Egg has told him his plans for Ant. The Egg doesn’t want Ant to share his plan yet.

- Bad speaks with them. Sam asks about the plan, but Bad repeats that the Egg wouldn’t want them to divulge their plans.

“You know what the ultimate plan is, right?”

“We need to bring as many people to love the Egg just as much as we do.”

“One way or another.”

- Bad says the Egg requires nourishment. Ponk will nourish the Egg.

- Sam gets away and heads back home. He decides he has to lock the portal.

- Sam makes a clock and takes Fran outside for a walk.

- He sits with her on the side of a music and they watch the sunrise together.

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

[fruitcoops]

Nosy Neighbors

Hey folks! This is a continuation of the Coops social media series, kind of like the boyfriend tag and the tiktoks. Let me know what you think and if you like these fics! Credit for Coops/ Sweater Weather goes to @lumosinlove, as always. Some parts inspired by the SW discord!

“Bonjour, everyone, and welcome back to the Gryffindor Lions Instagram! I’m Sirius Black and I’m here with my fiancé, Remus Lupin, to answer some questions you are sending in while we’re live.” Sirius set his phone up so both he and Remus could see it. “Alright, first question: what are our favorite colors?”

“Green,” Remus said, leaning over Sirius’ arm to see. “Specifically dark green, kinda moss tones?”

Sirius hummed. “I really should say red or gold, but I like blue a lot.”

“Don’t tell Coach,” Remus said to the camera. “Question—wow, these are coming in fast—question two: who kissed who first?”

“You did?”

“I think so. That’s right, I did, because we had the whole conversation beforehand and I just kind of went ‘fuck it’ and smooched you.”

“Smooch.”

“Shush, read another question.” Remus kissed him on the cheek as he looked back to his phone.

“Who is more romantic?”

“You,” Remus said without hesitation. “You’re so sappy.”

“That’s different than being romantic.”

“Either way, you can do it forever.” Remus scrolled through a couple more before pausing and bursting out laughing.

Sirius’ whole face lit up and he craned his neck to see. “Which one is it?”

“It’s not even a question, I just love it.” Remus took a second to collect himself. “All it says is ‘these bitches smitten’, and you know what? Yeah.”

Sirius laughed loudly, leaning against the back of the couch for a moment. “Merde, I’m using that forever. Thank you, whoever sent that in. Okay, what do we have next…who said ‘I love you’ first? Me!” He smiled broadly, looking very proud of himself. “I did.”

Remus peered down at the phone. “People think it’s weird seeing you actually answer questions for once.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm. Apparently most of them didn’t know you could actually smile—that’s sad.” Remus looked back up and stuck his lower lip out. “Everyone who didn’t know that, I feel very bad for you. Sirius Black’s smile is a national treasure.”

“That’s an awfully smitten thing to say.”

“Turns out I’m a smitten bitch, did you know that?” Remus wrapped an arm around his waist and tapped the phone screen. “On the ice, both of you are pretty aggressive—aw, that’s such a nice way of putting it—and I was wondering if that ever translates into when you argue. Oooh, we’re getting personal now.”

Sirius cocked his head to the side. “I’m going to say not really? First of all, we don’t fight that much, and second of all, we both make an effort to leave any dickishness on the ice.”

“Dickishness is a highly scientific word, of course,” Remus teased. “No, in all honesty, hockey is the only place either of us get, like, aggressive aggressive.”

“Hey, this one is specifically for you,” Sirius said, leaning down to see it better. “Oh, I like this one. To Remus, how do you survive being around that accent all day? If it were me, I would spontaneously combust for sure. How do you survive, mon loup?”

Remus groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “I don’t. It’s so frustrating.”

Sirius sent the camera a smug smile. “C’est bien. Hmm, this next person wants to roast us both. Who is messier?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“You just don’t want to admit it’s you.” Sirius raised his eyebrows when Remus scoffed. “You leave your socks everywhere.”

“At least I own more than one pair without holes!”

“That’s not part of the question. I win, you lose, your turn.” Sirius handed him the phone and Remus stuck his tongue out at him.

“Someone named Laila wants to know if we ever get competitive at home or if that’s another thing we leave at the rink.” Remus propped his chin on his hand. “I don’t know, baby, do we get competitive?”

Sirius struggled to hold back his grin. “I’m just going to ask the general public a question now: what do you think happens when you put two professional athletes in a house together?”

“Especially when one of them is the captain.”

“The short answer is yes, we do. I can think of three separate occasions in the last week where we competed over something completely pointless.” Sirius thought for a moment. “Wait, no, there’s four. We should move on before this spirals. D’accord, dinonuggets asked why our dog’s name is Hattie. Good question!” He whistled and Hattie wandered in a few seconds later to sit between them on the couch. “Her name is Hattie because she is our lucky third for a hat trick.”

“Woah, people really like that.” Remus poked the screen as hearts exploded across it. “She is the best girl. Babycakes, sweet girl.” Hattie rolled onto her back and put her head in his lap. Remus petted her absentmindly as he read through the comments, then swung around to face Sirius with a mischievous smile. “What’s the best and worst part about dating someone from Wisconsin?”

“The slang for both,” Sirius answered immediately. “Jeez is so cute, but I do not understand the obsession with ‘hold your horses’ at all.”

Remus shook his head. “Tsk, tsk, you have no culture. Alright, you’re up.”

“Oh!” Sirius slapped at Remus’ leg in excitement and Hattie made a grumpy noise. “Un bébé!”

“A baby?”

“This person is just starting to question their identity and wants to know what labels we use.”

Remus lit up. “Baby gay! Hello! Oh, this is awesome. To answer your question, I used to identify as bisexual but after college I started identifying as gay because I felt like it fit me better.”

“As everyone knows, I was closeted until about eight months ago, but I’ve known I’m gay since I was…oh, maybe 13? 14?” Sirius’ face turned solemn for a moment. “Please remember that your labels can change and you’re still valid. Stay proud.”

“We’re starting to run out of time here, so we’re going to do a few rapid-fire questions. First one: What’s your favorite thing about your partner?”

“Your heart,” Sirius said, turning to look at Remus with a soft expression. “You’re so kind to everyone and you have so much love to go around.”

Remus had one hand over his mouth. “That’s so sweet. I feel so bad now. Uh, my favorite thing about you is how adventurous you are, since I’m an introvert and we balance really well.”

“Why did you feel bad?” Remus didn’t answer. “Oh my god, you were thinking of something else. What was it?”

“Doesn’t matter. Next question—”

Sirius grabbed the phone out of his hand. “Oh, no, no, tell me. Was it my ass?” The mild flush that crept up the sides of Remus’ neck gave him away. “It was!”

“I do genuinely love how adventurous you are,” Remus defended. “Just read the next question before I embarrass myself even more, please.”

“You’re never living that down. What’s the best and worst part of playing on the same team?”

“I think having the same schedule and really understanding the hockey lifestyle helps us avoid a lot of disagreements that couples have, but if we have a bad game then we both come home grumpy and that’s never very fun.”

Sirius nodded. “When you were still the PT we hung out less, since you had to stick around after practice and get there early to set up. Now, we can spend more time together in the mornings and evenings which is just the best. I’d say the worst part is that people have started comparing us in the media, and that’s total bullshit.”

“Yeah.” Remus scrunched up his nose. “It doesn’t have any real impact on our relationship, but it’s irritating to see it circulating when there are so many more important things they could be focusing on.”

“Last question, make it good,” Sirius warned, leaning back so Hattie could stretch her legs further.

“Okay, from Lathan in Texas, how do you have such beautiful hair?”

Sirius seemed rather surprised and sat up straighter. “Really?”

“Yup.”

“Well, Lathan, I wash it every other day with shampoo and conditioner and I don’t brush it while it’s dry. Once I get out of the shower, I just kind of…” he shook his head and the ear-length curls mussed a bit. “do that until the extra water is gone and let it air dry.”

“Godspeed, Lathan,” Remus said gravely. “Looks like that’s all we have time for today.”

“Thanks for tuning in, and see you later!”

[americasmarauders]

Hey Luiza!! Ok so I don’t know if this is too big of an ask BUT would you maybe consider, if you’re comfortable with it, writing up (from prompt list 1) #24 that leads into #11 with Tim Drake?

author's note: has this been sitting in my ask box for, what, 4 months? yes it has. I'm deeply sorry for that, love, but suddenly life got in that way, and I found myself unmotivated and uninspired. But now, hopefully, I'll have a couple of weeks of peace and I managed to complete this request. I hope you don't mind, but I put my own spin on the prompts, slightly altering them. Hopefuly it's up to par with what you expected. I re-worked an old draft of mine, one that was supposed to be a royal!au based on Love Story by Taylor Swift, to fit the prompts. It's still a royal!au and it still has some colors of Taylor Swift, nevertheless I hope you like it.

prompts: #24: banter in which one of them’s like… “i love you” and the other person’s like “ok” and the first one’s like “say it back” and the other one’s just like “no 😝” and the first one gets frustrated because “why wouldn’t you say it back we always say i love you before we leave”

#11: when one of them is hurt by the antagonist… and their lover goes… absolutely ballistic and does everything in their power to get to the person they love, to the point in which the antagonist and it’s crew have to physically restrain them… and it still doesn’t stop them… they just keep kicking… doesn’t matter what happens to them… doesn’t matter if they get beaten in the process… as long as their lover is safe… words: 3,982

masterlist

request masterlist

#

#

She leaned to the railing of the balcony, summer air gently brushing on her skirt and her skin, a small smile playing at her lips. Her hands fidgeted nervously as she waited for her love to encounter her in that abandoned corner of her family’s palace.

A sigh escaped her lips as she attentively listened to the noises around her. The rumble of the party could still be heard, even if faintly. There were barely any rounds in that part of the castle, especially with the big ball her father had decided to throw. She had millimetrically chosen that balcony: something far enough from the ballroom, so they wouldn’t be bothered, but not too far in case they got caught. She could see the moon clearly from where she stood, its light illuminating the fountain down below beautifully. She thought about how his eyes would be beautiful under the Moon’s light and her heart fluttered.

She had been warned about the Waynes, mostly by her adoptive Father, who wasn’t exactly a fan of Bruce Wayne, King of Gotham. Their relationship was civil, but it wasn’t safe from animosities, many that had happened in their past, when both were still young princes trying to get their bearings of their upcoming roles. A war was brewing back then, a war that had not ended as of yet, and she remembered her Father telling her how palpable the tension in the air was, how exasperated his mentor was that he was as prepared to be a king both militarily and educationally. She only imagined King Bruce’s mentor felt the same.

Unfortunately, the antipathy extended to the plethora of adopted children King Bruce had. Her father always spoke of them with a corner of disdain, his lips twisting into a frown. He had to have contact with them, the trades of their kingdom depended on Gotham a whole lot, but he had shielded his children from the Wayne kids. When she was smaller, when she had just arrived in the castle fresh from the streets, she had believed every word from her Father. She had stayed away from them, actively avoiding them when she saw a pair of raven hair and bright eyes looking in her direction. When she grew up, she stopped thinking about dodging their attention so attentively, but still stayed out of their way, not wanting to get on her Father’s bad side.

The way she saw it, she didn’t exactly mess with the Waynes, in fact it was the other way around. Tim had stumbled onto her life, and he had been quite persistent, in spite of her trying to be cold towards him. He knew she really couldn’t resist him somehow, he always knew more than he ever let on, he saw the way she smiled when he’d pass through her on a stupid ball his Father threw for whatever reason. She pretended to not see him, to not feel his smile etched into her brain forever.

Tim managed to crawl his way to her heart and now she couldn’t imagine a life without his clever remarks and easy going smile. She remembered vividly when they danced for the first time. He had asked her, the first time he’d even whispered anything to her. It was like every eye was on her while she was hesitating to grab his hand. Her eyes flickered to his face, his smile faltered for a second. She remembered feeling her heart tightening at his deflation, and grabbed his hand immediately after.

His grip tightened on her hand, his smile firm and reassuring. She felt herself tense when they finally arrived on the dance floor, his other hand respectfully laying on her back. He whispered to her gently, begging to not let her eyes drift away from his. She listened to him, her heart beating fast, a mix of anxiety and something else, something better and new. He made snide comments about the people present at the Wayne ball, making laughter bubble underneath her skin. He had vanquished her nerves with a smile and bright eyes.

Hands slipped on her middle, hugging from behind. Tim’s scent flooded her, a smile blooming on her face. She moved to turn in his arms to face him, his hands allowing her movement. He was classically handsome, his blue eyes accentuated by the moonlight, sending butterflies to her entire being. His smile floored her, her hands finding his face, caressing lightly his cheeks.

“No one saw you?” she whispered, her forehead leaning on his, her breath mingling with his.

“No,” he shook his head, his forehead grazing on hers. His hands cradled her face, his eyes closed. “You look breathtaking tonight,” his voice was steady and precise.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” she smirked, her hands falling to his shoulders delicately. Her eyes were filled with an inexplicable love, something that consumed her wholly. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” his lips ghosted over hers, tempting her to close the tiny gap between them. She chased the smile growing on her lips, closing the space between them and interlocking their lips. Tim had promptly responded to her kiss with a gentleness only he was capable of, kindness that made something inside her explode.

She rested her forehead on his, looking deep into his moonlit eyes with an adoration that couldn’t be contained by the vessel of her body anymore. Her heart felt calm again, next to him it was like every cell of her body was finally settling into some level of tranquility. The sinking hole she felt when he was miles away back in his kingdom was rapidly filled when he smiled at her and rested his hand on her cheek. The world was filled with screaming colors once again.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” he confessed, his voice barely over a whisper, his hands cradling her face carefully.

“I know, Tim,” the whisper fled from her lips, “I feel the same, but we have to, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know,” a sigh escaped his lips, defeated and resigned. He took a step back, putting space between them. She immediately felt his absence, a coldness settling inside her. His elbows rested brutally on the railing of the balcony, his knuckles as tense as his jaw. She felt it in her bones that something was deeply wrong with him, something inside him had shifted. “We could run, you know?” he suggested, his eyes finding hers once again, full of hope. “I have a safe house far away, Kon helps me keep it. We could settle down there, live a calm life.”

“Where’s this coming from, Timmy?” she whispered, her eyes closed imagining the life Tim had laid out for her.

“I’m so tired, love,” his head shook from side to side, “I'm so tired of fighting, of briefing meetings and seeing innocents die. I don’t know if I can’t take it anymore.”

“I know,” her hands rested on top of his, “but, Tim, we can’t. We can’t leave everyone behind, this is bigger than us.”

“Why not?” his voice grew with a strong tone of anger. “I just want one thing, Y/N, one thing. I want to be able to love you, without all this weight on my back that I’ve been carrying ever since my parents handed me to Bruce when I was 12. I’m exhausted all the time, I miss you like I’m missing my own heart all the time. I can’t take this anymore.”

“Tim...” she started, her voice soft and understanding, but he quickly interrupted her.

“Marry me,” he turned to her abruptly, grabbing her hands tightly. Her mouth was agape, her heart beating out of her chest. “We can get married quietly at dawn, and then we’ll live at my safe house, we’ll make it a home.”

Her eyes flew crazily over his face, looking for any hint that he was playing a prank on her, pulling purposefully on the strings of her heart. His face didn’t betray any signs of any lies, her mouth got dry and her hands started to sweat. Her brain ran a thousand different scenarios, trying to grasp onto some hope that maybe what Tim had suggested to her might work. She found none.

She shook her head, her throat tightening up. “We can’t,” she whispered, her hands slipping from his. “It wouldn’t work, Timmy. We would be hunted down, we wouldn’t have peace at all. We’d have to live a life constantly running from our past.”

“So we’d do it,” he went to grab her hands again, but she didn’t let him, his hands grasping into summer air. “I can find other houses across the continent, I can make sure we are not found.”

Tears escaped her eyes, betraying her feelings to Tim. She shook her head, her arms crossing over her stomach. “No,” she whispered, “I can’t.”

“Hey,” his fingers lifted her chin, making her look at him, “penny for your thoughts?”

She couldn’t handle being touched by Tim, his touch poisoned her thoughts. If he touched her, she’d make a decision she’d regret, and she wouldn’t have that. “I can’t do it, Tim, I can’t leave everything behind.”

“It’s not going to be easy,” he started, “but we’ll make it.”

“You’re not understanding,” her voice showed the bubbling anger and fear inside her, “I can’t abandon everything like you’re suggesting, Tim. I can’t leave all those people who depend on me, all those families that expect me to show up and give them some comfort,” she sniffed, brushing off a couple of tears running on her cheeks. “If I leave, Tim, I’d be miserable.”

He took a step back at the brutality of her words. “You’d have me,” he whispered, “I’ll love you until the end of my days, I’d never let you be miserable.”

“It wouldn’t be enough,” she replied, her knuckles tight. “I love you, Tim, with everything in me, more than the number of stars in the Universe, but it wouldn’t be enough to cover the guilt I’d feel.”

He inhaled a sharp breath, his hands gripping the railings angrily. “I’m leaving to battle tomorrow,” he stated, his voice steady and impassive.

“I know,” a mutter left her lips.

“This is your last chance before I go,” he turned to her briskly, “please, run away with me.”

“No,” she shook her head, her voice barely a whisper.

Tim huffed and left, his footsteps heavy and angry. But it wasn’t that that had broken her heart. They always said ‘I love you’ when they had to say goodbye.

Tim hadn’t said ‘I love you’.

#

#

Out of everything Tim was expecting from his day -- to dying on the battlefield, to ending a war, the list was practically endless -- he hadn’t expected receiving the letter that was in his hands.

He didn’t even know Roy knew about them. He must have guessed, though, she told everything to Roy, she loved him deeply, a love he sometimes wished resembled the love he shared with his own brothers. But things in the Wayne household were different, more secretive and cold. Sometimes, Tim thought back on how different his life would have turned out if his parents hadn’t dropped him off at Wayne Manor to run. Maybe, he would have followed in his father’s footsteps and became a fine swordsmith, maybe worthy enough to work for the Wayne family like his father before him. Maybe, it would have happened what his parents feared the most: they would have run out of business, losing every penny they owned and living in poverty for the rest of their existence.

Tim was ultimately glad his parents had made that tough decision, he wouldn’t be a Prince if they hadn’t, he wouldn’t have met his soulmate if they hadn’t.

Her. He had royally screwed up with her, he shouldn’t have pushed her too far, he knew where she stood on the subject. But he felt his impatience grow inside of him, his frustrations got the better of him and soon he was blinded only by his undying love for her and the anger he felt at the world for failing him once again.

Tim hadn’t said ‘I love you’ to her when he left. It was that realisation that pained in his chest even now, as Jason handed him a foreign letter from Roy, her brother. It was that regret that flooded him when he read the rushed words scratched on paper, his heart picking up a beat as his eyes processed the fatalistic words presented to him.

He stood up briskly from his seat, ignoring Dick rambling about the strategy they were supposed to adopt to overturn their enemy. He heard some complaints, Bruce calling after him asking where he was going. Tim ignored, only capable of focusing on the letter and his last conversation with her, the things he did not say to her and the regret he felt on the things that had been said.

Tim didn’t have anything on him other than his sword and that cursed piece of paper, but he still made his way to the stables, overlooking the weird stares he received on the way. His horse was softly munching on some hay, unaware of the ride she was about to be put on. The letter found its way to Tim’s pocket hastily, as he put on his saddle on his mare, his jaw tight with emotion.

“So that’s it?” Tim heard, closing his eyes at the voice. “You’re just gonna march to Star City, because Roy sent you a letter?”

“It’s not that, Jason,” Tim muttered, hyper-focused on securing the saddle on his horse.

“I wish I could make you do shit that easily, I would’ve made you do my field notes ages ago,” Jason liked teasing his brother, Tim guessed it was because it was easy to get a reaction out of him.

“It’s not that,” he gritted through his clenched teeth, aggressively releasing the lock of the saddle. His mare complained at the gesture. Even her found a way to scold Tim.

“Then what is it? What’s more important in Star City than here, with your army, fighting for our people?” Jason cleared, watching the anger rise in Tim’s expression quickly and overwhelmingly.

Tim shook his head, not allowing his brother to have the satisfaction of gaining a reaction out of him. He promptly got up on his horse, gently guiding her towards the exit. Jason got in front of his horse, stopping the motion completely. “Get out of the way, Jason,” Tim’s voice was low and menacingly, “I won’t warn you a second time.”

“You don’t scare me, Timothy,” Jason scoffed at his brother’s attempt of intimidation. “Get over yourself, baby bird, you can’t scare me. Now, tell me, why such a rush?”

Tim’s eyes hovered on his brother’s face, looking down at him. The letter was fished out of his pocket and tossed to Jason. His brother caught it, and hastily read its contents. “So? If they needed help containing these rebels they wouldn’t have sent you a letter,” Jason argued, his hands motioning to his brother.

“Jason,” Tim softly said, “read it again.”

His brother looked at him weirdly and did as he said. His eyes moved more slowly now, taking in the words that had ripped Tim’s heart out of his chest. “Oh,” Jason muttered, looking up at his brother once again, “oh.”

“Get out of the way, please,” Tim begged, his voice breaking.

“What are you gonna do when you get there?” Jason asked, confused at his brother’s reaction. “It’s not like you have any medical expertise, Tim, you’re not going to be able to help her.”

“I don’t know, Jason, I just have to be there,” he responded, briskly. His voice was full of contained emotion, like if Tim mad one false step everything would overflow and he would inevitably break. “I can’t lose her, I just can’t.”

Jason sighed, one of his hands resting on the holster of his sword the other on his waist. It was like he was thinking everything through, analysing thousands of scenarios Tim couldn’t even fathom. Jason was the brother everyone underestimated. He was exceptionally strong and big, he had a knack for violence no other Wayne boy had, but he was an incredible strategist, maybe the best out of all of them.

He stepped out of the way not before saying “I’ll cover for you, but I can’t promise they won’t find out.”

With that Tim ran off, the wind whipping angrily at his hair, reflective of the storm inside himself.

#

#

Tim dismounted from his horse just outside the gates of her family’s castle. The guards looked at him suspiciously, as he strode proudly toward the gate that separated him and her. He eyed the guards with an austerity he reserved for a few occasions, he never liked making people feel inferior, but his morals were askew in light of the news weighing down his chest.

“I demand to be let in,” he ordered, his voice stern and tight.

The guard in front of him raised an eyebrow, appalled by Tim’s audacity. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Prince Tim, of Gotham, and I will get in the castle, so please move,” he gathered all the authority he could muster inside him, and spoke as if he was the monarch of that kingdom.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but you do not have authority here,” the guard shook his head, his hand sliding to his sword slowly. Tim took that as a sign of hostility, trying in a peacock kind of way to show he was the one with the upper hand in the situation.

Tim scoffed at the pathetic demonstration, jumping at the throat of the guard and slamming him to the wall behind him. “Listen here, I have been riding for the past 5 hours, I have not stopped once and, at this point, I’m fuelled by spite and anger,” his voice was low and threatening, and he could see fear rise in the guard’s eyes. He couldn’t scare Jason, but he could scare other people. “I’m not going to be stopped by some mid-level pathetic guard,” it was weird saying insulting things to other people. Tim rarely bad-mouthed, but at that moment it felt liberating.

“Tim,” he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, “release the guard.”

Tim looked over his shoulder, Roy standing there with a calm expression, something that contradicted the feeling in his eyes. Tim shoved the guard out of his hands, dropping them violently to his sides. Roy ordered a guard to take care of Tim’s mare, gently leading Tim inside the castle’s grounds.

“She’s been asking for you,” Roy stated, his voice elusive and calm. “No one understands why, but I do.”

“How is she?” the words that Tim was afraid of saying slipped past his lips. Asking how she was made everything that had happened to her, something he had just found out, incredibly real.

“Considering that she spent the past few days being held hostage, considerably well,” Roy conceded, rubbing his hands behind his back. “A bit bruised and shaken up. But, as far as I know, well.”

“Good,” Tim swallowed the lump inside his throat, relieved to hear what Roy had said. They walked down a straight hallway, something he guessed took them from the main gates to near where she was staying.

“She told me what happened between you,” Roy manifested, filling the awkward silence growing. “She’s been beating herself up for it.”

“It’s my fault,” Tim shook his head, “I shouldn’t have said anything, I already knew her answer, it was stupid.”

“It wasn’t, trust me, if I was in the same position as you, I would’ve probably done the same,” he shrugged, turning a sharp left, “probably worse.”

Tim laughed, humourlessly, at Roy’s comment. “Listen, kid, I get it, truly. But with this,” Roy waved his hands around, “sometimes, you gotta play the long game.”

“I hate the long game,” Tim muttered, like a little kid.

“No one said it was going to be easy,” Roy scolded him, like his brother would have done. “But if you truly love her, like you say you do, then play your cards right.”

They stopped, in front of a dirty pink door, Roy’s hands gripped the handle, a small smirk on his face. Tim straightened his posture, shedding the young brother façade he unwillingly slipped on and reverting to the young Prince ways. He took a deep breath, shuffling to organize his emotions inside his brain. Roy opened the door and pushed Tim inside the room, rapidly closing the door back up.

He had never been to her room, even of all those years of courting secretly, sneaking into dark hallways, and kissing under the moonlight. Her room had always felt off bounds to him, even if it had never been expressed as such. He slowly walked into the room further, watching how every corner had her imprint in it.

She was sitting by the window, the curtains opened, a soft summer breeze gently moving her hair out of her eyes. She only wore a simple gown, almost a nightgown, making Tim feel incredibly overdressed. There were bruises littered over her arms and neck, and he felt a mixture of anger and guilt bubble underneath his skin. He struggled to contain it, hoping the people that had done that to her were already six feet underneath the ground.

Her gaze flipped to him, and his stomach somersaulted inside him. She opened a shy smile, waving timidly for him to approach her. He walked calmly towards her, his hands behind his back fidgeting nervously. She got up from her seat, and stood waiting patiently for him.

“Hi,” he whispered, in front of her. His hands itched to touch her, bring her closer and cradle her as if she was the most precious and delicate thing in the world. To him, she was.

“Hi,” she looked down at the ground, her feet bare. “I’m so--”

“No,” he interrupted her, “don’t. I’m the one who should be sorry, I’m the one to blame.”

“Tim, you didn’t do anything.”

“I did everything,” he admitted, “I didn’t say ‘I love you’,” tears sprung to his eyes, ones that he had been trying to keep at bay for a long time. “I left and suddenly you were in danger and I wasn’t there to help you. All because I was stupidly proud and bitter and I--”

“Stop,” her hands found his face, her thumbs brushing carefully on his cheekbones. “It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known. I certainly didn’t.”

“I should have…”

“No, Timmy, you’re just a man,” she took a step closer, her body hovering next to him warmly. It was like the ice that had settled on him instantly melted when she stepped next to him, “one that I love very much. But I made mistakes that night, and so did you. And it’s okay.”

He breathed right for the first time in days. The guilt he had been carrying like a cross on his back felt lighter, almost nonexistent. A smile made way to his face, albeit a timid one, and he grabbed her hands, the warmth she irradiated seeping into him. “I missed you.”

She smiled at him, a smile no longer free of hurt, but full of more meaning than before. “There was a question you asked that night,” she whispered, her breath mingling with his, “one I didn’t answer.”

“There was?”

“Yes,” she nodded, her nose brushing on his delicately. “Ask it again.”

“Are you sure?” Tim looked into her eyes, looking for a sign of uncertainty or regret.

“Just ask it.”

“Will you marry me?” he whispered, his lips brushing hers.

“Yes.”

#

#

[myheelsdontmatchmysweatpants]

Or Red Lilly with Iida 👀

Thank you so much for sending an ask! Sorry this took me forever but i hope you like it!!

Red Lily (Passion) with Tenya Iida

Warnings: MeanDom/Tenya Iida, SubFem/Reader, impact play, handcuffs, use of “sir, good girl”, oral sex (fem receiving) consent check, orgasm denial, degradation, vaginal fingering, no condom, d*cryphilia. 

Also big shoutout to @doinmybesthere @patchworkpuzzle @eyebagsbutglam for helping me out!! I love all of you!!

The first time Iida found out that you sleep without clothes he gave you a two-hour lecture.

“What if there was a fire and you needed to evacuate immediately? What if someone broke in? What if you sleep walk and get out of your apartment? What if- “

“Tenya!” You grab his arms, concerned that they are going to fall off with how aggressively he was chopping them. “I understand that you are just trying to help, but I am comfortable sleeping like that. Could you please respect that?”

He looks down for a moment, the sun glare on his glasses making it impossible to see his eyes. When his shoulders drop, and he visibly relaxes you know he has calmed down. “I am sorry my dear, you’re right. It is important that you are comfortable.” He kisses your cheek. “Let’s go to bed now.”

Two years later

Iida was done, done with the day, done with people, done. Done. DONE.

He was late to the agency because of a villain backup that he couldn’t help with. When he finally ended up getting to the agency, he had to calm down several interns because number one hero Deku had stopped by. One of his engines went out because a villain on his patrol was able to get some sort of substance in his exhaust. This meant he had to go to Mei Hatsume because she was one of the few who could fix it. She tricked him into activating a “baby” of hers that exploded effectively covering his entire hero suit in ash and soot.

Numerous other things happened through out the day that soured his mood even further. The last thing was him getting home late, not 30 mins, not 1 hour, but 4 hours late. He had to take his hero suit to be cleaned and ended up taking a shower at the agency. All he wanted to do was go to bed with you.

Iida sets his stuff down by the door and removes his shoes. Walking carefully, so as to not wake you he opens the bedroom door and glances at your shared bed.

Iida’s breathing stops for a moment, the sight of you making his heart skip a beat. Laying on your side, one of your hands laying on his pillow; the blanket between your legs. Moonlight peaks through the curtains, bathing your naked form in a soft light that makes you glow.

As he shuts the door, he can feel his pants getting uncomfortably tight. You are so beautiful and what better way to ease the stress of a horrible day than to bury himself in your tight heat.

He walks up to the bed, reaching out to caress your face with his knuckles. Your eyes slowly open hazy, and unfocused from sleep, eyelids fluttering.  “Mhm… Tenya?” A soft smile appears on your face and you grab his hand, turning your head to kiss it.

“Sorry I woke you darling, why don’t you go back to sleep?” Iida feels guilty, waking you up just to have sex with you. He moves to pull his hand back but you clutch it tight, he looks at you, raising his brow in question.

You push yourself up with one hand and sit on your knees in front of him, still holding his hand. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you take a quick moment to stretch, arching your back and lifting your arms up in the air. You hear Iida suck in a breath and open your eyes with a smirk.

“Now why would I go to sleep when you clearly need some help turbo.” You lower the hand not holding his and graze your fingers over the obvious bulge in his slacks.

Iida shudders when you touch him but doesn’t react any further, more worried about your sleep schedule. “Don’t worry about me love, nothing I can’t take care of on my Ohh.” His sentence gets cut of when you give him a squeeze through his pants. His forehead pressing against yours you can hear his breathing getting heavy.

“Don’t worry about me love.” You repeat his words back to him. “Nothing we can’t handle together.” You place his hand that you were still holding on one of your breasts and grab the bottom of his shirt. As you pull it up, he reluctantly lets go of your warm chest and takes his shirt off throwing it behind him. You are already unbuttoning his pants before he throws his shirt and as you work to pull them down, he grabs your hands.

“Let me do this okay? Can you lay down for me? I want to look at you.” His eyes pleading, his face weary and tired you can’t help but abide by his wishes.

You lay back down on the bed, your legs bent at the knees resting to the side. Your hair is splayed out on the pillow a hand on your chest the other to your side resting with the palm up. Iida doesn’t move for a moment, entranced by the goddess in front of him. It’s only when you say his name on a breath that he remembers what he was supposed to be doing.

He undresses in a flash, quick and efficient his clothing forgotten in a pile next to the bed. Now its your turn to admire your partner. His dark blue eyes, chiseled jaw, and wide breadth of his shoulders. Iida worked hard to maintain his physique for hero work, and it showed in the way his muscles flexed as he moved to hover over you.

You both look at each other for a moment longer before Iida leans down to kiss you slow and deep. His lips melding with yours, his tongue meeting yours in a soft caress. You reach your hands to cup his face, but he grabs your wrists and pins them above you.

When he breaks the kiss, you can’t help but whine, arching your back and lifting your head to meet his lips once more. “Y/N.”

The authority in his tone makes you shiver in delight and submission. You lay back down on the bed, once again resting your head on the pillow as you look at his innocently. “Yes Tenya?”

His eyes darken further, almost black in the light. The hand not holding your wrists softly moves up from your hips to your breast. You sigh in contentment until his large fingers pinch one of your nipples and you yelp.

“Now dearest, I understand that you just woke up however – “He pulls on the nipple and you whimper, your eyes starting to water a sadistic smirk crawling up his face. “– I do believe you know better than to address me like that.”

“S-sorry, Sir. I’ll be good, I promise.”

He waits a moment after your answer then lets go of your nipple, rubbing soothing circles over it with his thumb. “That’s better. Now, I’m gonna handcuff you and you are going to keep your eyes shut understood?”

You nod your head before closing your eyes. “Yes sir, understood.”

You feel him shift on the bed and hear a drawer open before the sound of metal clinking together fills your ears. You fidget in anticipation before a sharp pain blooms on your breast. You cry out when Iida slaps you but keep your eyes shut, not wanting to anger him further.

“I thought you said you would be good for me dear. That also means staying still.” Iida lets go of your wrists locking one of them in the cuff before wrapping the chain on the reinforced hook he installed on the bed. Before he cuffs the other wrist, he softly grabs your chin and tilts your face up.

“Y/N, open your eyes for a moment darling.” When you do your eyes immediately connect with his, no longer dark with lust but softly filled with tender love and concern. “You ready for this? Let me know if you are too tired, we can stop.”

You shake your head and give him a soft smile. “I’m ready Tenya, I need you too.”

“Tell me the safe word.”

“Axel”

He kisses your nose, eyes quickly darkening again. “Good girl.”

Before he can ask you to shut your eyes again you do and lay still. “Thank you, sir.” You feel him shift again and you other hand is cuffed; he pulls on the chain to make sure its secure and double checks that the cuffs aren’t too tight.

When you feel the bed shift you know he crawled off of it. You try to listen, to hear any sound that lets you know what is going to happen next but there is only silence.

All of a sudden you feel to large palms on your thighs, giving them a squeeze before pulling them apart.

“Such a perfect pussy.” Iida lightly drags his nails down your legs, a breathy moan escaping your lips. “Look at you, such a good girl for Sir.” You feel a breath of air, the slick of your arousal on your cunt and thighs going cold.

It’s difficult, holding yourself still but the feeling of his large hands on your body keeps you submissive. His hands on your body, however, do not help with the anticipation. Iida isn’t moving, you can almost feel his eyes on your core but no movement, no dipping of the bed or shifting of his hands.

You whimper, trying to relay your need for touch you finally feel the bed move under his weight. “Are you trying to tell me something dear?”

You almost open your eyes, needing to show him just how bad you need his touch, but you don’t. “Please, sir. Please touch me, I-I need you.”

Silence, and then Iida slaps your pussy. You can’t help but arch your back and yelp, eliciting another slap from your lover for moving.

“I don’t remember this being about you. I vividly recall you saying that we were helping me.” Iida wrenches your legs apart father before shoving his face into your cunt, he licks a broad stripe up from your tight hole to your clit before biting to little nub.

“Ahhh! I’m sorry! I’m sorry sir you’re right!” You can feel the tears escape past your eyelids and Iida huffs before biting the inside of one of your thighs.

“Of course, I’m right now you will lay there and be obedient or I will punish you as I see fit.”

“Yes, sir.”

Iida kisses the mark he left on your thigh and continues kissing and biting until he gets to your core. “Fuck you look so good- “He licks you again, humming as your taste blooms on his tongue. “– taste good too.” He continues his ministrations, alternating between biting your thighs and licking at your sex. You can feel the faint tightening of your core, but he isn’t licking hard enough, not giving you enough attention for the feeling to build.

Iida relishes all the little whimpers and moans that escape your mouth. He can tell you’re getting frustrated with the lack of stimulation but like a good girl you are following his orders. After he has decided you deserve a reward, he slots his mouth over our cunt and starts dipping his tongue in and out of your slit.

The needy moan you let out at finally feeling something has his cock twitching. As you strain against the hand cuffs, resisting the urge to grind against his face Iida wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you impossibly closer.

You choke out a sob when he moves his mouth up to lick shapes onto your clit and gently suck it. He hums against you and the extra stimulation has you crying.

“Please S-sir, I’m m’gonna cum. Can I please cum?” Your thighs are shaking but you’re too focused on holding your orgasm back to care.

Iida thinks about it for a moment, slowing down his movements just to hear the frustrated cry from your mouth. He backs away from you for a moment, chuckling at your frustration.

“I don’t believe you’ve earned the right to do that yet.” He leans down to give you one last swipe of your tongue before sitting up.

The tears fall in earnest now, your need for release clouding your mind. “N-no, please sir I’m – I’ve been a good girl! Please sir I- “You let out a wail when Iida slaps the inside of your thigh.

“Are you such a needy slut that you can’t even follow orders?” He slaps your other thigh and growls when you don’t answer. He adjusts his position until he is at your side, wrapping an arm around your torso to pinch at one of your nipples before running his whole palm down your aching cunt. “Do you like it when I punish you? Is that it?”

You finally calm down enough to shake your head. “N-no, I don’t like it s-sir.”  You are still crying, the tears running down your cheeks and wetting the pillow beneath you.

“I think your lying to me, because every time I hit you.” Iida lifts his hand up and slaps your clit, his fingertips rough from hero work. “You look like you enjoy it slut.”

You can’t help it when you feel the sharp pain on your clit you moan, the feeling slowly fading into pleasure.

“I told you, you like the pain, don’t you? My naughty little pain slut.” He hits your clit again twice in quick succession. “Do you want to be a good girl for me?”

You nod your head, tilting it to the side to rest on his shoulder. “Y-yes, I wanna be a good girl sir.”

He kisses your forehead. “If you can cum just from me slapping your clit then I’ll reward you with my cock yeah?”

“Yes sir!” You force your body to relax, knowing you’re your too tense the pain won’t give way to pleasure.

As Iida repeatedly slaps your clit you can’t help but utter a jumbled mess of words.

Yes sir…. thank you, sir, …. feels s’good…. m’close…please ..... harder ….

When you finally cum you back arches completely off the bed, your mouth open on a silent scream as tears pour down your face.

Iida lays there for a moment, watching as you come undone, he almost finishes right then and there. Before you can catch your breath, he is crawling on top of you and pushing your legs to your chest. He shoves two fingers in your hole scissoring them to open you up before he puts his cock in.

You only have enough energy to moan as he fingers you, your eyes shut from exhaustion instead of obedience.

Iida is intently watching his fingers move in and out of you, clearly you don’t have any control over your body anymore and yet your cunt still pulls his fingers in. When he pulls his fingers out, he shoves them in your mouth, without even a thought your sucking on them to clean them off.

“Good girl.” He lines himself up and thrusts into your cunt, balls deep in one go. No letting you adjust to his size he is now just after his own release.

It doesn’t take long for him to finish; he was already close to coming when he was slapping you. The sounds coming from your mouth and the tears streaming down your face, he will never get tired of it. Right as he is on the edge of cumming he feels your walls start to tighten again, he holds back just long enough so that your orgasm hits and you milk his cock for all its worth.

Iida stays like that for a moment holding your legs and enjoying the post orgasmic bliss until you let out a little whimper. He gently pulls himself out of your abused hole, wincing when he hears a small groan fall from your lips.

After he puts your legs down, he leans over and cups one of your cheeks and kisses your forehead. “You did such a good job my dear, I will be right back to clean you up.” Iida stays there until you give him a nod and gets off the bed without jostling you and heads into the bathroom. When he comes back, he has a warm washcloth and with a light touch he wipes the insides of your thighs and your slick folds.

You still haven’t said anything, but he knows you like the back of his hand and doesn’t push. “Let’s take a shower love, need to clean you up.” Iida takes your cuffs off and rubs your wrists you slowly open your eyes and focus on his face. He smiles down at you and kisses your nose. “I love you dearest.”

“And I you Tenya.”

[katieraven]

sleep is so tough

Summary: your attempt at dealing with losing Bucky is unsuccessful and results in a sleepless night - for several reasons.

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes/female reader

Warnings: angst!!, happy ending (because I can't write sad endings for the life of me), a lot of metaphors, thoughts about death, loss and grieving, a tiny description of a panic attack

Word count: 3227

Notes: @babycap you wonderful human! 600 followers is huge and i am very happy about this fic. the prompt was: "I wanna be in your touch / Sleep is so tough" - James Bay, Chew On My Heart and I wrote a lil something that i'm kinda happy with. do enjoy!

love,

katie

It’s the same nightmare. You recognise it from the last three weeks, you’ve been here before. Doesn’t make it easier to shake out of it. You watch him convulse, face torn and twisted somewhere between pain and the desperate attempt to keep his free will. The fight against the venomous words the HYDRA agent hurls at him. They’re like daggers, needles stuck into his brain, rewiring him. And all you can do is watch. You are frozen in place in the torture your subconsciousness puts you through. Again. And again. And again.

You can’t will your eyes to tear away from him. He snarls like a cornered animal at the agents around him. Then the final words. “грузовой вагон“. Freight car. You don’t know Russian, but those ten phrases have been burned into your brain. You could recite them in your sleep.

Bucky stills. He slowly stands up from his crouched position, cold stare fixed onto the speaking agent. “Я готов отвечить“.

You startle awake, the nightmare finally loosening its grasp on your consciousness. Immediately, your hands fly to the other side of the bed. It is cold and empty and your stomach drops when realisation hits you like a punch to the gut.

This is not a nightmare. At least not entirely, no. It is a memory. Because you saw the footage. You saw Bucky convulse and bend and snap and straighten. And you saw Steve, heard his scream as Sam pulled him away, forcing him to leave his best friend in the hands of his torturers. Steve knows it was the right thing to do. You do, too. The thought of Bucky being all alone behind enemy lines still makes your breath hitch in your throat, though.

They didn’t want you to see the footage, it wasn’t supposed to be something you get confronted with. But you slipped into the room, originally meaning to talk to Natasha about some software to try out in the next mission. They didn’t notice you entering, eyes trained on a screen, FRIDAY running facial recognition in the background. They kept playing the footage over, and over, and over, and again, looking for any kind of clue as to where they could find him, until your knees gave out under you and you fell with a whimper leaving your throat. Natasha was the first to understand the situation. Steve let out a string of colourful curses you would have never stopped teasing him about, hadn’t you been trying to wrap your mind around what you just saw.

If you had known they were back already, you would have noticed him missing and asked. But you didn’t even know they were back. And then he was gone.

You finally open your eyes. The New York night tints the white ceiling a blueish sort of grey and you feel like someone painted the inside of your heart onto the concrete. A perfect replica. Grey inside. Empty. Broken and alone, left to try and fail to put yourself back together.

Your fingers curl into a fist around the cold and empty bedsheets. They have been empty for three weeks now, and your body has no tears left to give. So you lie there, silent sobs violently breaking free from the void that is your chest. Sometimes you don’t know if your heart is beating, still, and your hands can’t find it in them to check. It wouldn’t be so bad to die, you think. There’s not much keeping you here.

Steve visits every few days. He carries the same hollow look in his eyes, like someone snuffed out the light behind them and carelessly forgot to turn it back on. With the sole difference that he is better at hiding it. It is only when he thinks nobody is watching that the sticky navy blue ink that is grief seeps into his face and turns his eyes empty and his face pale. You don’t mention it.

You know it’s supposed to help, sharing grief. Which is why you open the door when he visits, and don’t turn him away. He needs it, too, you suppose. So you sit on your sofa in front of the tv and watch something stupid and mindless that none of you pay attention to and both of you pretend to find acutely intriguing whenever the other is looking.

It’s all a giant game of pretend. SHIELD is feigning confidence in finding him. Everyone else oozes positivity whenever they talk about the mission. But it’s false, and hollow, and the truth of it sneers at you through translucent optimism.

You turn your head to look at the alarm clock on your bedside table. 4:36 a.m. That means you slept an astonishing three hours. That’s two more than yesterday. You’re not afraid of the nightmares anymore. You know they will come. The terror shaking you night after night has become a companion, just as the grief following closely in everything you do. It looms over you at night, hides in the shadows behind the furniture in your living room, joined by Steve’s whenever he’s there.

You were afraid to fall asleep, yes. Pulled two all-nighters in the first days after. By now you have learned to read the signs your body so openly presents you with and you know you will not fall asleep again tonight. So you lie there, hand splayed over the empty right side of the bed, eyes staring through the ceiling.

Fuck, you miss him. It rolls over you unexpectedly and your body seizes, curling up into a fetal position as your obviously alive and beating heart pumps sharp agony through your veins. He is gone. You know, of course, you understood before and this feeling is familiar, but for the first time, it truly settles inside you. Bucky is gone.

The man you imagined a future with, who handed you his broken and bruised heart and trusted you to fix it, is gone. The charming wooden home near the sea you always talked about when his nightmares were too much and too real slowly turns to dust between your grasping fingers. You feel it slip. The bell-like high pitched laughter of a young child evaporating in your mind.

You feel your heart break. There has been a dull ache in your chest for weeks. You’ve gotten used to it, embraced it into your menagerie of demons and ghosts, grief and loss. But it betrays you, right now, as you feel your heart pound against the cage of your ribs, and it burns. You still lie curled into yourself, blanket tangled between your legs. You will explode. You feel it with a new certainty, this will kill you. You breathe in and out, you know you do, but none of the air arrives in your lungs. It leaves you desperately gasping for oxygen.

Until you realise none of it is real. Because your heart is not here in your room with you, your heart lies in the mismatched hands of a broken soldier somewhere between here and the sea. It can’t kill you here, because there is an organ-sized hole in your chest and the coldness of the world tears at your exposed ribcage with icy shrapnel-sharp claws. Does it bleed? If so, you can’t feel the warmth. Blood is warm, right? Bucky always said it is.

You exhale slowly. Will your seizing muscles to relax, to let you go. To your surprise they do, and you inhale again, cold night air. It doesn’t yet escape through the wound in your chest. The hole hasn’t reached your lungs yet. But you know it will consume you, leave no part of you untouched, unbroken, will rip you apart for all your demons to finally feast on what is left of you.

Maybe he will find you first, you muse. Maybe HYDRA will find the last bit of mercy in them and send him after you, to cut his strings. You know you will not fight when he does. It would be a sweet oblivion with his eyes the last thing you see. Grey irises like molten silver when the sunlight hits just right.

Your arms fold against your chest. The skin is whole, not a scratch, no bleeding wound. You know it can’t be true. It is simply your minds way of processing this pain. Your imagination fixed the hole but you know it’s still there, still gaping. You can feel the edges burning where the hole ends and the marred skin starts. But you live. Still this broken body carries you on, one day after another.

You sit up in your sheets, hair plastered against your forehead by the thin film of sweat covering your body. As your back straightens, the metallic clinking of dog tags root you into this reality and you pull them out from under one of Bucky’s black shirts you’re wearing.

“Keep these,” he murmurs and presses something hard into your open palm. You look down and see the two thin pieces of metal piled on top of each other, embossed letters spelling his name, his full name. Your stunned eyes flicker back up into his and you open your mouth to protest, but he shushes you with a finger.

“It’s not like I need them. If I die, this thing” – he gestures to his arm – “will tell everyone who I am. But I want you to have these.”

Your thumb smoothes over the plates, shoving them against each other. “I mean … I won’t complain, but why do you …?”

He shrugs, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. “I don’t know, I guess it feels like a part of me stays with you, y’know? A physical part. So that you have something real to hold onto until I’m back.”

It hits you, then, that he’s leaving. He picks the tags up and puts them around your neck and you reach for his hands, fingers closing around his forearms. “Don’t leave me, Bucky. Please, I can’t lose you –“

He puts his hands on either side of your face and kisses your nose, before looking directly at you. “You won’t lose me, you hear? I’ll always be with you. Always.”

But now he’s gone, and you close your fist around the metal tags until they push into your palms, and harder until they cut the delicate skin. You want to be angry at him but you can’t. It’s not his fault. It’s not his fault he couldn’t keep his promise.

You steady your breathing. Eyes wander to the red numbers on your alarm. 5:23. No use trying to sleep anymore, you decide, and sit up. Might as well make coffee. Maybe you can get something done today. Clean the laundry up at least, so Steve doesn’t have this awfully concerned look on his face next time he visits.

It takes you a couple of minutes to actually, physically, move. In your mind you’re already in the kitchen, filling the coffee maker with water and watching the coffee slowly dribble into the pot below. It has something therapeutic, one drop at a time. Almost meditative.

But, well, you do have to walk over into the kitchen to reach this point of short-lived meditative oblivion. So you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, and your eyes fall onto the covered mirror in the corner. It’s floor-length, and you used to love being able to admire your whole outfit in there without having to stand on your tiptoes.

Like that one time before one of Tony’s extravagant galas, when you tried to get a good look at yourself and the glamourous dress that, as Natasha had pointed out, would look amazing on your figure. She had been right – naturally. But the tiny mirror in your bathroom hadn’t shown the whole thing and so you were leaning over the sink to try and look. Which was exactly the moment Bucky chose to walk into the room, only to promptly wear an affectionately amused smirk on his face, assuring you of your otherworldly beauty (“Oh come on, Buck, don’t mock me – “ “I’m not, you are otherworldly, doll, dazzling even!”) and pointing out that you were in desperate need of a floor-length mirror.

In the first few days of Bucky’s absence, you hung a bedsheet over it because you couldn’t bear the memory. In fact, you can’t recall the last time you actually looked at yourself. With utmost certainty, though, you can say that your skin must be grey and sunken and the darkened circles under your eyes a deeper shade of purple than when you were knee-deep in college finals. God, that time seems ages away. If you hadn’t gone to college then maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation – you would have certainly never ended up at SHIELD. For a second you wish you hadn’t. This pain would not be part of your reality, then.

But then again, you wouldn’t have met him at all. And as much as this, right now, hurts, you wouldn’t trade it with any reality in the universe if it meant not knowing him. Not loving him. Not knowing his deepest, darkest secrets that he only opened up about after one particularly bad nightmare, with his head in your lap, not daring to meet your eyes.

No, if this pain is the price for his love then you will take it. You will let it eat at you until there is nothing left except your hollowed shell of a body because it will have been worth it.

You walk past the covered mirror and open the door, bare feet against the cold kitchen floor. You go to reach for the coffee maker when something registers with you. Something out of place, a slight inconsistency in your regulated, never-changing surroundings. You barely see it in your periphery.

Your movements still and your head slowly turns toward what is undoubtedly someone sitting in your living room. The moonlight glints on his left shoulder and you realise, within the smallest fractions of a second, who it is.

The hollow excuse for a heart that sits in your chest sputters and stills, before springing back into action twice as fast. He came back.

A steady stillness settles over you as you understand the situation. They sent him. Loose ends and all. Yet you’re not afraid, this death will be quick and quiet. It gives you an odd sensation of peace, to know that his will be the last face you see – even if it is the Winter Soldier’s face. But they’re still Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s okay”, you whisper.

His intent gaze never leaves you as you slowly, deliberately walk towards him, step by step. You know that Bucky is in there, too, and you need him to understand that you accept this. That it is not his fault. That you are ready to die if it is at his hands.

There is an unusual uncertainty in the Soldier’s eyes. You have seen footage of him, cold expression, a sort of stone-hearted efficiency about his movements, never a step too much. He has not moved yet. You feel every bit of skin on your feet connecting to the wooden floor as you move towards him, slowly, but steadily. If this is how you are meant to go, then you will.

You’re only three feet away from him as you stop. His eyes followed you all the way there. Now they start to flicker over your face, your body, confusion slowly but definitely showing in the crinkles on his forehead. He opens his mouth and you hold your breath.

“I –“, it comes out croaky, like he hasn’t used his voice in forever, so he clears his throat and starts again.

“I know you.”

Your lungs deflate, shakily. He hasn’t killed you yet. If he hasn’t killed you yet, why is he here? The Winter Soldier doesn’t hesitate. The uncertainty in his face sparks something deep, deep inside of you that you thought dead by now. Hope.

His eyes find their way back to your face and he is searching it now, not the stoic, cold mask of the Winter Soldier. You don’t dare speak. The fingers of his left hand flex with an electric whirr.

“I know you, but …” he trails off.

His right fist opens, fingers seemingly involuntarily reaching out. You step closer and lower yourself down, bare knees on the wood flooring, eyes not leaving his.

“I remember you.”

His voice is steadier now, more confident that he does, in fact, know you. That there is something inside his brain, something more than just the Soldier. More than just the missions. Just the trigger.

His hand, the real one, reaches towards your face and you close your eyes upon contact, a shaky breath leaving your lips. His index and middle finger trail across your cheekbone. Follow the curve of your lips. Trace your eyebrows. Your eyes flicker open and your breath gets caught in your throat because there he is, there he is, his eyes his own.

“Bucky –“

His name leaves your lips, a choked sob partially escaping. He blinks. Still, his eyes are his own. His lips part and then he whispers your name and you are certain this is a dream. A change of pace from the violent nightmares of late, but still a dream, because this can’t be true. How could it be.

But the hardwood floor is rough against your knees and his hand is warm against your cheek and he is there. He slides off the chair onto the ground before you and you feel hot tears spill from your open, disbelieving eyes. His other hand reaches for your face and then he’s holding you there, so unbelievably gentle, his eyes tortured and lined in purple but undeniably his own.

“You came back”, is the first real thing you say to him.

His thumb smoothes over the dark bruise under your eye, proof of sleepless nights and tired days.

“I’m so sorry”, is the first thing he says to you in his own voice.

You close your eyes, lids pushing tears over the edge and you let them drip down onto your bare thighs as you shake your head, a soft smile on your lips.

“There is nothing you need to be sorry about. None of this was your fault.”

“I – you’re hurt”, he states, matter-of-factly, and your eyes open again.

You try and put everything into your eyes, everything you feel, the hope, the relief, the love. Most of all the love.

“But you’re back. That’s all that matters. Do you hear me?”

His grey irises swim with regret and pain and fear and yet you see love in them. You gently touch your forehead to his and he sighs, eyelids fluttering closed.

“I love you, and you’re back, and that’s all that matters.”

The cold seeps into your body from the floor, your knees scraping against the hardwood. Neither of you dares to move, the calm of the situation too delicate, neither sure if this is real or just a particularly cruel dream. But it is too beautiful to disturb and so both of you remain where you are, hands gently touching the other. Thankful for this moment of peace.

**

Forgot my taglist consisting of one wonderful person: @mannien

[creepypastaxmales]

Hidden (Ticci Toby/Reader)

Warnings: NSFW

Words: 2,757

You felt anxiety fill you as you trekked through the woods, the sound of fauna crunching underneath your shoes just put you more on edge. You chewed on your already chapped lips, wondering why you were even out here in the first place.

"Come on, you scared, princess?" You flushed at the memory, that had pissed you off. You were no princess, not even a prince, yet you found yourself accepting the challenge. You were sure he was nuts, he hadn't spoken to you in a few weeks then he suddenly turns up and asks you to go to the area where everyone disappears?

Not to mention ditching you the moment you turned your back, you could see the sun beginning to set in the distance. A cold feeling filled your body, you rubbed your hands up your arms to try and sooth yourself however it hadn’t helped much.

You wanted to call out his name yet you feared he wouldn’t be the only one to hear you, there were countless stories piling up about people disappearing in here, hell some where even snatched right out of their bed. You shivered at the thought, screw him if he wanted to die out here he had that right but you wouldn’t. 

The idea of some psychopath standing over you with a knife was enough to turn you sheet white and get your heart pumping. You turned tail and started walking back the way you came, at least you thought you were. Somehow it all looked different, you shook your head. That was impossible it was just your mind freaking out at the different angle. 

You froze, the blood running through your veins suddenly felt ice cold. You looked around, doing a complete 360 on yourself yet spotting no one. You took a few breaths, it must’ve been your imagination. You continued on the way you thought would get you out of the creepy forest. 

The feeling of impending doom slowly filled you, despite your best efforts to shake it off it felt like someone was watching you. Pretty closely too. You hugged yourself, hoping to bring some comfort to yourself. 

You stopped upon hearing another set of steps, it sounded like they were right behind you. You quickly spun around only to see no one in sight. Your breathing was coming out ragged, anxiety squeezing at your heart. “I swear to fucking god. This isn’t fucking funny, Mark.” You shouted out your friends name, feeling your anxiety turn into anger. 

Turning back around you stomped off, wishing more than anything you had told the arrogant asshole to fuck off. You wished you were at home, sat on the couch surrounded by junk food and playing some games. The thought of getting back and curling up with a controller kept your speed up. 

Too lost in your thoughts to hear the footsteps running up behind you until the owner had slammed into you, immediately pinning you down to the forest floor. You let out a cry, the impact took your breath away. You felt twigs and rocks scrape against your exposed flesh, hands more than likely cut up.

You struggled under whoever was on top of you, unfortunately they seemed to have a height and weight advantage. More like they felt pretty strong, he held you down with one hand between your shoulder blades. His legs caging your hips in, you felt like the canary the cat had just finally caught. 

“At least let me see who kills me.” You growled out, you wanted to see who it was so you could get some revenge in the afterlife, if there was one. A deep chuckle was heard above you. “Fi-ne, I’d prefer se-seeing the fear take over-er your face.” He seemed to stutter every now and then, you jumped feeling his hand tighten on your back and push you down. His hips suddenly jolting forward and grinding harshly against your ass, he also produced a loud noise that sounded like a twig snapping in half.

You couldn’t stop the gasp that left you, your face flushed and he flipped you onto your back. You looked up to see the wildest chestnut brown hair you had ever seen, he pulled his goggles back. They revealed the coldest brown eyes you’d ever seen, it was like they were completely devoid of light. He had deep purple bags under his eyes, almost as if he hadn’t slept in months. But that was impossible, he must barley sleep. 

His skin was almost translucent, the moon that now had started raising above the skyline reflecting almost off his skin. You found yourself shaking underneath him, you didn’t really want to die. He tugged his mask down, his lips were tugged slightly downwards. You could see a slight stubble graving his chin from the angle you were at.

Your eyes ran down from his face to his body, he was covered by a khaki green jumper with striped arms and a blue hood. You noticed two blood stained hatchets at his hips, you gulped feeling your Adams apple bob.

His legs were covered by ripped up bloody grey jeans, threading sticking everywhere out of holes that almost looked like knife slashes. The only word that came to your mind after taking in the guy was that he was definitely a killer.

A sudden crack and his head being thrown to the side had you wide eye’d and staring at him. He smirked at you. “I have toure-ettes.” You just nodded then gulped, remembering the hatchets and blood. “Please, don’t kill me.” You couldn’t help the shaky way the words poured out, your heart felt like it was about to explode any moment.

He titled his head, his dead eyes appeared to take you in for a moment. You suddenly felt shyness fill you, turning your head away and attempting to curl in on yourself with little to no luck.

You curiously took another glance at his face only to catch his eyes, his face covered by a smirk. “How muh-much is your life wor-rth? What ar-re you wil-willing to do?” Despite the stuttering his smirk was still full of confidence, even something in his eye’s seemed to have changed. 

You bit your lip, tugging on a peace of ragged skin. “Anything.” You spoke, if he wanted money you would give him every last penny you had. “How ab-bout you let me fuck y-you?” Your face flushed red, Toby letting out a chuckle, seemingly pleased with your reaction. 

You looked at his eyes, not managing to hold the contact for long before your pupils quickly darted away. He wasn’t bad looking, rather he was pretty cute. “Okay.” He grinned, quickly leaning down to press his lips to yours. His lips were pretty chapped, you would even say extremely bitten. 

You began moving against his lips, trying to follow his lead. Being gay wasn’t exactly new to you, but human contact sure was. He pulled away, his hands grabbing you up and pulling you into his chest. You flushed, he stood almost a head taller than you. 

He pressed your lips back together, hands coming to land on your hips while yours grasped desperately to his jumper, hoping to ground yourself a little. His hands suddenly pulled away from you before returning and leaving a sting behind. The sound of a sudden smack had your lips opening, letting out a whine at the burn, giving Toby the opportunity to stick his tongue in your mouth, quickly exploring around.

You didn’t bother fighting him, instead submitting yourself to him by relaxing against him. He suddenly broke away. “I kne-ew you’d li-ike it.” His grin was almost wolfish. You felt heat build up in your abdomen, it felt like there were small pangs going off in your stomach.

Every time Toby’s fingers began to dip under your shirt and apply pressure to your hips your stomach would leap. Despite it being night and being outside you felt extremely warm, Toby’s body heat drew you in. He was unnaturally warm. 

You couldn’t help but let out a moan every so often, it seemed like you had been kissing forever before he pulled back. Your mouth dropped a little to allow you to huff and pant, your hand coming to wipe the drool off your chin before Toby’s hand knocked it away.

Your eyebrows furrowed in question as you looked up at him, your hair a mess and cheeks covered in pink. Toby bit his lip, he never had a victim he had wanted to fuck before. He had the occasionally hook up with some random from a nightclub whenever Masky would drag him out, but he had never really found those people that attractive.

The sight currently in front of him had him harder then he had ever been in his life, his thoughts filling up with ways to take you, make you his. He felt almost feral, a part of him wanting to lock you away and keep you all to himself. 

He ignored those thoughts, hands sliding up along with the smaller boys shirt and jumper until the boys chest was exposed. Toby grinned, licking his lips before attaching them to one of your nipples. You tried to jolt back but Toby’s hands stopped you, they wrapped around your biceps and he used his thumbs to keep your shirt and hoodie up.

You couldn’t stop the little gasps and moans that poured from your lips, jumping every time Toby would pull back only to swirl his tongue around the sensitive bud. After a few moments it began to feel like too much, letting out a small cry of overstimulation. 

Toby laughed against your chest, keeping latched on for another few seconds before switching. You jumped and let out a gasp as the wind blew against your nipple, your eyes widening. You shook in Toby’s grasp while he gave the other nipple the same treatment, you nearly cried when he pulled away, the wind blowing against your already overstimulated nipples was almost too much.

He caught you off guard by pushing his fingers into your mouth, you let out a questioning moan around his fingers. You could feel the pads of his fingers rub gently against the back of your tongue, triggering your gag reflex. You would jolt and make a choking noise every time his fingers went too far down the back of your throat.

You tried your best to stay still and let him do whatever it was he was planning. His fingers suddenly left your lips, Toby took a second to take in the expression you wore. It was easy to see what he was doing to you, the drool that had dribbled down your chin while Toby had been finger fucking your mouth was definitely a pretty sight.

You’d look even prettier with Toby’s come all over that pretty face. Toby didn’t bother concealing the dark look that crossed his features. The boy had probably already seen his little friends blood covering him, he had no reason to hide anything now. 

Toby’s hands ran back down (Names) hips, instead of stopping their they kept going until they disappeared under the band of (Names) jeans and underwear. Toby let out a groan, taking two handfuls of ass and squeezing which caused you to let out a small gasp, getting pushed closer against the taller boys chest.

You let out a squeak, the feeling of your shirt rubbing against your nipples was almost sore. Toby let out an airy sounding laugh, it chilled you. For some reason you felt as if you weren’t going to die, but you weren’t going to be seeing anyone anytime soon.

You couldn’t find it in you to care once you felt his finger start to rub circles around your hole, you dove further into his chest letting out wreaked sounding moans.

No one had ever touched you there before, it felt nothing like when you had tried it. Back then it had just felt awkward and you had wound up giving up. What had changed now? You turned to face the brunet, looking into those almost manic eyes that seemed to be completely different from the cold, closed off ones you had witnessed earlier.

Was it because this man could kill you? You bit your lip, the thought did excite you. The idea that he could easily snap your neck or something while balls deep in you had you letting out another moan, Toby took it as a signal that he could burry his finger into your hole. 

Your face scrunched up and you let out a yelp, slight pain and discomfort filled you. He began circling his finger inside you, your body tensed as a foreign feeling began filling you. You wanted more, groaning you pushed back onto his digit.

Toby complied, almost too easily sliding in a second digit. Due to your saliva the fingers had little problem plunging into you, beginning to pick up speed. “A-ah!” You gasped out, seeing white as Toby’s finger grazed something deep inside of you. “Bi-ingo.” His voice seemed to deepen, his fingers speeding up and attacking your spot.

You threw your head back, back arching and stomach pressing flat against Toby’s. You suddenly didn’t mind, if he wanted you he could have you. If he took you back with him you didn’t think you’d put up a fight, not if he gave you this feeling.

It felt like something was beginning to build inside of your stomach, the familiar feeling of needing to come filled you. Yet you knew this was going to be the best one you had ever had, your hand not comparing in the slightest to what Toby was doing to your body.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, mouth dropping open in a silent moan. Toby suddenly pulled his fingers out of you causing you to whine at the loss of contact. “Can-n’t get enou-ough huh?” He turned you around and pressed his cock between your cheeks, using his hands to spread your cheeks, the tip of his cock gliding over your hole.

The feeling of his tip catching against you had you moaning, you tried to grind your hips back but Toby’s hands prevented your movement. His finger’s were going to leave bruises, you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“God, please. I need more.” You begged, trying to push him inside. Toby grinned before tightening his grip on you, stopping you moving. You let out a broken sob, before getting cut off with the feeling of Toby’s cock stretching you. You threw your head back against his shoulder, your eyes drooping.

His cock was bigger than you had expected, it seemed to stuff you full. You swore you felt him hit your stomach once he was fully buried into you. All you could do was finish the moan that you had started. 

You found your body relaxing back against him, his arms coming up to wrap around you. Holding you close to him, you gripped onto his arms for leverage as he started an almost brutal pace. The feeling of his cock almost disappearing out of you only to slam back deep into you was mind blowing. 

You felt like you could go crazy from the feeling of him filling you up alone, never mind the feelings that swarmed you once his lips attached to your neck. He sucked big dark bruises into your flesh, he wanted everyone to see them.

His cock brushed against your g-spot and you shouted, probably alerting everyone in a ten mile radius but you couldn’t care. Toby easily manoeuvred you how he wanted, you felt like a ragdoll in his arms. Your brain couldn’t keep up, your thoughts melted away and all you could do was call out Toby’s name and moan. 

You could feel yourself getting close, it felt like a tsunami was approaching and all you could do was hang limp against Toby. “I-I’m gonna.” You cut yourself off with a loud moan, your loading shooting out. You fell back, boneless against Toby, thankful for his strength because you didn’t think you could stand.

The feeling of you tightening around Toby’s cock had him coming deep inside of you, you let out a weak groan at the feeling of his come coating your insides. “Mine.” He muttered, his words serious and laced with possessiveness. You nodded against him, feeling your eyelids start to close.

[theflashdriver]

Too Late

A mysterious visitor draws Blaze to the docks, having made his presence known through Marine and requested conversation with her. His reasons for this, who he is and why he's even here are all unknowns. Despite this rudeness, the ruler of the Sol dimension can't help but feel a bizarre tension in the air. Written for sonamysilvazeweek 2021, using the bonus prompt of hurt/comfort!

This one is more intended to be pure angst than romance but it is very soft, I hope folks enjoy!

---

These past two days had brought a bizarre tension that Blaze knew the origin of but not how to confront. Yesterday morning, a little before noon, Marine had burst into a royal meeting with all the disruptive force that she could muster. The now adult raccoon, stood in front of ministers and community stakeholders, had freely and willingly babbled about a weird old wizard who had offered to help with her ships if he could meet with the princess. Naturally, due to a combination of the shipwright’s tone and chosen way of relaying this information, Blaze had rather exploded at her, insisting that she leave and that this so-called wizard should make an appointment. When the girl had tried to stand her ground, she’d been asked if this person was a threat. With a grumble of no, knowing she was beat, the raccoon had made her way through the halls but out the castle entirely.

That was, until eight o’clock this morning. The young raccoon had barraged her way into the royal bedchambers, claiming that the same old wizard had successfully pulled eight of her crashed ships from the ocean and aided in their repair by merely waving his hand. She said that he was some kind of psychic sent from the other dimension and that, despite how weird and old he was, he apparently knew Cream, Sonic, Tails and the others. All those things had piqued Blaze’s interest, of course they had, but none of them propagated her curiosity quite like Marine claiming he’d sat on the dock ever since he’d arrived. He hadn’t eaten or even slept; he’d simply sat waiting for the princess.

Unfortunately, just like the day before, today had been filled to burst with work. Gardon had passed away three months ago and, although the monarch was now mature, the burden of that loss was still weighing heavily on her. No longer having that confidante, that source of sage advice, was finally beginning to wear her down. Hours were spent dealing with fussy landowners and handling minor issues, with both sets of Eggman long gone too, the guardian part of her role had been regulated to a mere title. It’d taken until now, approaching night on this summer day, for her to find the time and leave the castle.

The evening was humid, even by the docks, but that wasn’t too abnormal for this time of year. A dark sky hung overhead; grey clouds formed a barrier that barely allowed the pink of the sunset to pierce through. She was dressed in her usual working garb, her purple coat and white tights, but she wasn’t entirely sure if this was work. Marine’s descriptions of this man had been sparse to say the least- apparently, he was old, would glow with a strange cyan light and looked rather homeless. Blaze wasn’t even certain that her aid was needed in the Chaos dimension and so she hadn’t brought the Sol emeralds; according to Marine, he was just here to meet with the princess.

Blaze quickly found herself at the stout dock that Marine tended to work off of. Sure enough, no fewer than eight vessels that she could scarcely recognise were happily floating along either side of the wooden boardwalk. None of them held her attention for long though, despite how ludicrous and intricate their designs were. No, Blaze’s eyes quickly fell upon a cloaked figure sitting at the very end of the dock.

Her attention was immediately captured by a set of seven quills, the formation of which she’d never seen on a hedgehog before. They were long overgrown and, though she could tell five ascended from his forehead while two stretched from the back of his head, they’d all began to matt into one continuous mass of grey fur. The cloak Marine had described was actually a garb formed from brown burlap, heavily stitched in places and acting as some strange poncho with long and billowing sleeves. Strangely, his right sleeve hung loosely at his side while his left reached up to cradle his head.

“Hello there? Are you the one who’s been waiting for me?” She called out, trying to get his attention.

“Oh, hello,” A croaking voice half-hummed from the form, he didn’t so much as turn back, “It’s a shame you didn’t come yesterday, the sunset was wonderful.”

Feeling a little slighted by the hedgehog’s cheekiness, Blaze responded in kind, “Well, I’m sorry but my role finds me rather busy.”

“Oh, no, there’s nothing to be sorry about. I think I can make this work,” Once those words sounded, the hedgehog’s back straightened and his hand left his chin.

She watched from behind as he pointed to the sky and, though she wasn’t sure what to expect, she couldn’t have anticipated what would happen next. The once grey shroud that had blocked the sun was suddenly tinted cotton-candy blue. She watched as his fingers curled into a fist and the cloud mass seemed to convulse, almost gathering at a single point, before he flicked his wrist and spread his fingers. The clouds parted into a wide circle that breached the horizon and, as it did, his hand was made fully visible. A cyan circle shone on the back of his palm; by the tears on his worn glove, she could tell that it was part of his hand.

“Oh, today’s even prettier, is that normal for this world?” It was only then that the form turned for face her, not rising and bowing like most of her subjects would but simply glancing over his shoulder with a soft smile on his face.

Behind him, the sun couldn’t be more than an inch away from the ocean’s surface and the sky was the most glorious shade of pastel pink… but that couldn’t hold the feline’s attention. Her eyes locked on the hedgehog’s face, the face of an old and tired man. Sunburn marred his muzzle, giving him a rough appearance despite his smile. Plumes of white fur breached his garb’s neck-hole, wrinkles covered his face and there was an age in his eyes that spoke volumes to the feline. Marine hadn’t been inaccurate to call him a wizard, what he’d just done was ludicrous and he surely looked the part, but something in those bright yellow eyes called to Blaze in a bizarre way.

Stumped, finding herself unable to answer, Blaze managed another step forward before catching herself, “What on earth did you just do?”

“Oh, I just pushed the clouds away,” He said, so very nonchalantly, as he turned back to the sky, “Don’t you think it’s pretty?

“It’s certainly prettier than it was,” She conceded through clenched teeth, daring to take another step closer. Though he didn’t seem threatening, this bizarre figure had just split the sky with no more than a wave of his hand, “Marine was insistent that I come down here as soon as possible, was there a reason for that?”

“What? Oh, I’m sorry, no. I would have happily waited for a few weeks at least,.I heard that you’re very busy,” He patted the spot on the docks next to him, smiling back at her again, “I just wanted to talk with you a little, after that I’ll be on my way.”

Under normal circumstances, Blaze would have turned tail there and then. If he was just here to talk and willing to wait then he could book an appointment like all the rest; but these weren’t normal circumstances. He’d parted the sky, brought ships back from the depths and... well, something bizarre was buzzing in Blaze’s head. As she looked upon his form, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu; she’d never seen this old man in her life and yet he looked so familiar. The term anemoia came to mind but she was struggling to recall its meaning. Without even really thinking, she found herself stepping closer still to the grey figure- soon she was standing by his side.

It was as he turned back to the sunset, releasing a sigh of contentment, that Blaze truly understood what she was looking at. When Marine said he’d raised and repaired her ships with one hand, Blaze hadn’t thought that he lacked the other. His right arm had been reduced to a stump, bound at its end, but that wasn’t where the damage ended. Only his right leg poked free from his garb to hang over the edge, this figure had seen far more than his share of adversity. Even the smiling form of his muzzle seemed slightly battered and, even over the scent of sea air, the stench he carried was that of brimstone and sweat decades aged.

“And what is it that you want to talk about?” Blaze, rather bluntly, managed to ask.

“Well, um,” He tugged at his chest fur, “I have a couple of questions to ask, but I’m sure you’ll have some for me too. How about we take turns asking things? I asked one then you get to.”

Today just kept growing more bizarre, he hadn’t come to ask her anything, he’d come to play a game of twenty questions. Even with Marine, even with Sonic or Amy or any of the others, if they tried to confront her like this then she’d ask them to simply cut to the chase. But as she stood above him, a question did find purchase in her mind. He apparently knew the others, that meant he was probably from their dimension, so why hadn’t they bumped into each other? He was an older hedgehog, was he related to Sonic? She didn’t think so, but it was so bizarre- it was like she knew where he came from, it was almost on the tip of her tongue. Even his name, it was as though she was so sure of it but couldn’t verbalise it no matter how she tried.

With a heavy sigh, not masked in the way she’d try to hide such normalities during her royal meetings, Blaze dropped down to sit beside the grey figure, “Fine, ask away.”

“What, really? O-Okay,” He seemed just as surprised as she was about her willingness to go along with this, “I’m, well, I think I’m eighty-two now. How old are you?”

Blaze blinked; this absolute stranger had just asked the princess her age in such a blunt manner. His lack of tact was frankly astounding but Blaze wasn’t off put. If anything, there was something strangely homely in how casually he’d asked, “I’m twenty-eight now, going on twenty-nine.”

“Oh wow, it’s like we’re opposites,” He immediately seemed to notice, smiling even more warmly than he had before, “Your turn then.”

A couple of ideas floated in her head, questions that felt strangely pointless to ask despite her not knowing the answers. Eventually, she managed to settle on one.

“Marine said you knew those in the other dimension,” She posited, “Do you come from there? I’ve been over a few times now and I don’t think I’ve ever…” For whatever reason, another surge of déjà vu forced her to hesitate, “Seen you.”

“Oh, yes, right. I don’t think you would have, no,” He seemed to stumble over a collection of thoughts, “I’m from there but not from then, you see. I’m from their dimension but a very different time. Two-hundred years in their future, I was born. The time I came from though, that’s long gone, overwritten by my travels,” The old man said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, “It was a bad place to live to be honest, overrun by monsters long before I was born. It took a lot but, after almost a hundred years of work, it’s finally all sorted out. I kept going back to the past and preventing disasters, now there’s nothing left to prevent,” And she found herself listening, as if it was the most regular of answers, “I guess I kind of come from nowhere now though, it’s nice there but it’s not exactly home. I’m just drifting now really…”

“Right…” The princess mumbled, trying to take that all in and finding it surprisingly easy.

Up until now things had been weird but now things were surpassing the point of strangeness. Looking past the other oddities this figure presented, for her to hear what she had just heard and feel as though that was both truthful and normal was the most bizarre sensation Blaze had ever experienced. Perhaps it was because she was used to introducing herself as a princess of another dimension but the fact she was so unphased by his words was thoroughly phasing her.

Before she could dwell on it too much, he was smiling at her again, “I’m wondering, the others mentioned that you were a pyrokinetic, would you mind showing me…?”

Again, without much thought, Blaze found this usually questionable proposal agreeable. She raised her right hand between them and, with no more than the click of her fingers, the top of her forefinger was set alight. Almost immediately he moved in closer, his bright yellow eyes marvelled at the exposed flame.

“Though it took me a while to properly control it, I’ve had this power for all my life,” She explained, snuffing the light against her palm, “What about you? What’s that symbol on your hand and what did you do with the clouds?”

As if to match her, the hedgehog raised his hand. Light seemed to pulse and ebb from the shining mark at his hand’s centre, tinting the environment around it. Once that had been shown, in such a casual way, the hedgehog turned and gestured to the sea before pointing his forefinger up. A light seemed to well in the dark depths of the water and, almost instantly, the waves ceased their lapping. Slowly coiling its way up, like some great serpent emerging from a lake, a long tendril of water, bathed in that same cyan glow, began to extend from the sea. It cut the sky, stretching a good ten metres up. Then, with a further wave of his hand, it fell away from them as though it was a tree that’d been chopped at the base. With a colossal splash, the waves restarted with a brief degree of additional aggression before, eventually, settling back into their regular pattern.

In any other situation, coming from any other person, Blaze would have taken this as some vague show of force. She knew that he could manipulate more than water, she’d seen him shift the cloud many miles in the sky, but he’d chosen to control the element that directly countered her own. Again though, for some unthinkable reason, Blaze couldn’t find the emotion to be shocked or perturbed.

“I’m psychic, I’ve had this power for as long as I remember but, to be quite honest, I’ve got no idea how it actually works or where it comes from,” His smile grew a little warmer, “I never really thought it all that important, all that matters is how these powers are used.”

“I’ve tried to embody similar thoughts myself,” She quickly responded, attempting not to dwell on that or the thoughts that came with it, “It’s your turn.”

“This is my big question, but I know this might be a little strange to ask. You don’t have to answer it if you’re not comfortable,” He said, as if everything up to this point had been normal, “Do you like living here? Do you like being the princess?”  

This wasn’t a question Blaze was new to, it wasn’t uncommon for children to ask what it was like being a princess, but Blaze thought his version carried a little more weight. He wasn’t asking about the simple things, like sleeping in a big bed or heading public events. For whatever reason, the princess knew he was asking if she actually enjoyed the role she’d been born into and, again for some unknown reason, she felt prompted to answer truthfully. This stranger was compelling her to unearth truths in a way that she hadn’t dared before.

“It’s… difficult,” She muttered, “Even though I hold a privileged position, even though I know I’m luckier than most, I don’t know that I’ve ever been comfortable,” Her head found her hand, her gaze drifted to the sea, “I can’t see my friends often, I can’t choose where I go and when, I can’t even stroll to the docks on a whim,” For some reason, although that was true, saying it aloud felt incredibly selfish, “But, it would be a lie to say I’m totally uncomfortable here. Marine keeps things interesting. Though I’ve seen adversity I’ve either been able to handle it or found the strength to call upon friends to aid me. Even if it’s not perfect, I’m happy I can live here and bring justice for those around me. I don’t know that I could ever see myself giving it up or…”

Blaze caught herself, grinding their conversation to a halt, “This is hardly professional of me; I really don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I shouldn’t be talking to anyone like this.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I told you I minded all that or that I wasn’t enjoying our conversation,” His eyes seemed to flicker away from hers and, though he spoke positively, his grin drooped ever so slightly, “I simply have a face that a people find familiar, I think it’s got something to do with my travels through time. People tend to speak with me in ways that they wouldn’t others.”

Somehow, despite the softness of his expressions and the newness behind their interactions, the princess could see that he wasn’t telling the total truth. There was something in the bending of his brow, the way the words hung on his lips. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t to do with him at all. Maybe it was the way his words resonated with her eardrums.

Equally though, she’d be lying if she said that she didn’t see what he’d said, “You do have a rather…” She rummaged for the right words, good and polished words, but what she drew was far too flimsy, “Kind face,” Though her stomach churned at her inaccurate choice of words, she pressed on, “Though that concerns me, it does really feel as though I’ve met you before. Were you a friend of Gardon’s?”

“Gardon?” The word rolled off his tongue, she couldn’t recall hearing that name in his voice at all. She knew the answer before he seemed to, “No, I don’t think so. Who’s Gardon?”

“He was,” Her tongue hitched on words like a hoe dragging through rocks, “Like a father to me,” That seemed right to tell him, even if it wasn’t proper to admit, “I didn’t especially realise that when he was with us but, despite that, I think he knew. He’d looked after me since I was a little girl, I can’t imagine he didn’t occasionally consider himself in that role,” She found herself stumbling, emotions were bubbling to the surface but, for some reason, despite her oversharing, she didn’t care, “I probably should have said I shared his view or made my attachment clearer but, given my position, it wouldn’t have been right.”

“Well,” Hesitantly, shakily, that glowing hand of his came to reside upon her shoulder. Any normal stranger would have promptly been brushed off, told to keep their hands away, but something about that weight upon her shoulder ebbed with a further familiarity that she could not place, “It sounds as if I’d love to have been a friend of Gardon’s, I’m so sorry, Blaze.”

It was only now, having sat with him for a while, that Blaze was beginning to pick up on subtle aspects of his mannerisms. Every word seemed as though it was intently thought out, as if he was running through a thousand memories every time she finished a sentence- so often punctuated with a hum or the word well. It was as if he was doing what she had done for so many years; carefully choosing his words, trying to match her royal status. The only difference was that while she searched for professional words, he seemed to do much the opposite. Not once had he remembered to call her your majesty or your highness, regardless of how much thinking he did.

“Though it’s not the same, I’ve lost someone close to me too,” For the first time since they’d started their conversation, his gaze had flickered away from her and back towards the sea, “Then again, I-I suppose that’s to be expected when you reach my age,” He took another moment, his remaining hand slipped from her shoulder to his knee as he seemed to catch himself, “No one so recently of course, but it’s hard to forget,” She watched his brow furrow further, his fingers seemed to push deeper into his cloak as his words slowly spilled, “You never actually want to forget. If you do, you’ll regret forgetting, more than anything else in the world.”

Once again, the two found themselves sitting in silence. Blaze the cat, the cold and hardened queen of the Sol dimension, felt a few bizarre words weighing so heavily on her tongue. In a matter of moments, with only a handful of words, the tension between them had remounted and tripled. Despite that, she was about to make things even more awkward.

“D-Did you love them?” She stumbled to ask, rather immediately regretting it but finding it impossible not to say something in continuation, “The person that you lost, I mean.”

“Oh, I loved her more than anything,” His answer was so immediate, “So much in fact that I can’t help but think I very much took her for granted. She never took to the word love well, it always seemed to embarrass her, but I feel as though I should have said it a million times more,” Unlike the name of Gardon or so many other things Blaze had heard today, the word love in his tone sounded so unforgivably familiar. It made her feel as though she was some kind of demon for not knowing where she’d heard it, “She was smart, brave, strong… and so much kinder than she probably liked to think, let alone that she could stand to admit,” The way he spoke seemed to carry a nostalgic joy and love that Blaze couldn’t recall seeing in any person, across their entire life “She’d scold me so often, I don’t think she realised that was how she showed her love. I don’t think I knew it either, but I would still go too far and get myself hurt just trying to impress her. It was all with the intent to do good of course, never pointless, but...”

A spark had grown in his eye, another glow that she recognised, but so very quickly he seemed to snuff it. Worry lines appeared on the hedgehog’s brow as he turned back to the sunset.

His smile frayed away at the seams as he mumbled, that love wasn’t gone but now it was being tiptoed around, “Well, she went too far herself a handful of times…”

This old man, this man almost three times her age, had already established a connection with her that few people, inside or out of her kingdom, had managed. Somehow, in a matter of minutes and without seeming to try, he’d managed to bring her fully out of her shell and allowed her access to his. No, it was more than that, it was as if she wanted access to the walls around this history he’d lived.  

“I’m…” Something about this felt weird to say, even though she knew it was right, “Sorry for your loss too.”

“I’m sure she loves watching the sunset,” He half hummed before catching himself and beginning to stammer, “W-Would have loved to, rather. This world is so very pretty, though I haven’t stayed for long, I’ve found myself rather smitten with it,” With his hand, he gestured out to the horizon and she followed his pointing, “Islands littered with limitless wonders, a glorious sunset every evening, softly rolling tides and wonderful people,” He spoke such simple words but they were so plainly from the heart, “Yes, this must be the most beautiful place I’ve ever visited. Even better than the world I made.”

Having not watched many sunsets, Blaze didn’t think she was in a good position to judge but there was no denying the prettiness of this sky. The soft pink of the ether, fading orange away from the sun and red towards, it was truly breath-taking to behold. The way the silver clouds hung, parted by his will, as if it were a picture frame surrounding the view made it all the more special. It was as if he’d revealed something she’d never have noticed, like he’d excavated some fossil or deciphered some ancient code.

“I’ve…” She caught herself before she could say something naïve again, “I must profess, I never really watched it until today. It just seemed so regular, as if it wasn’t worth noticing,” That turned his head but she kept her focus on the view in front of them, “But you’re right, it is beautiful,” In this moment, having discussed so much, Blaze felt bold enough to finally pry and ask the question she weirdly felt she already knew the answer to, “What did you say your name was?”

“Oh, I don’t think you asked so I didn’t give my name,” He’d tried to make it sound as though he’d just realised but Blaze could tell that was intentional, “I’m, um…” It took him much too long to provide an answer, “I’m Venice, yes, sorry. Its been a while since I’ve heard my name, let alone used it.”

“Venice?” That name didn’t sit fondly on her tongue, it didn’t seem to suit him at all. No, without even watching him speak it, Blaze knew that he was lying, “You mean, like the city in the other dimension? The one with the canals.”

“Y-Yeah,” He muttered in an attempt to reaffirm, “I think I was born there. I must admit, its been too long for me to really remember now. It’s really beautiful, but it can’t compare to this…”

“I see,” She didn’t feel as though she could really fight him on this, not directly at least.

In the silence that followed, Blaze couldn’t help but tear her gaze from the skyline and attempt to look upon him again. His heart seemed to always be on his sleeve; he was perpetually trying not to lie but plainly obfuscating the truth. Now closer, she could make out little details that were lost on her before. While his missing arm and leg were the most obvious marks on his body, it was clear that the tattered shroud he wore was intended to cover more. On his muzzle, just beneath his left eye, was a thin but clear gash that stretched almost the entire length of his cheek. The hedgehog’s nose looked as though it had been broken at least once, the way his left shoulder seemed to slump suggested that arm hadn’t escaped unharmed too and he was missing no fewer than three teeth.

These injuries would make any normal person feel bad for the hedgehog, but something about them was impacting Blaze a magnitude more than she’d expected. She’d been to hospitals in the wake of disaster, she’d seen people with injuries like his and even far worse following great storms and fires and floods, and she had felt for them… but it had never seemed quite so personal. Perhaps it was because he was older and she had just lost Gardon, perhaps it was because he’d shown her kindness, but Blaze doubted that. It was probably because of the bizarre connection she had felt this entire time. Who was this old man, who had he loved and what was he doing here?

Despite that question hanging in her mind, a very different one fell from Blaze’s mouth, “Do you want to talk about your partner some more?”

Equal parts of his face read that he did and didn’t want to but, ultimately, he resumed his talk, “I remember every detail, every little thing about her, as if we were together only yesterday. The way she’d flinch and brace at every bump in the night, the way she’d try to hide her laugh whenever I was especially stupid, the purrs she’d babble whenever things were truly peaceful, how she’d fuss over me while bandaging my injuries only to fuss more when I offered to help with hers,” Emotion now seemed to be overwhelming him, he went from staring straight at the sunset to turning such that she couldn’t see more than the edge of his muzzle, “There was this word she’d use, scolding me but not scolding me every time she spoke it. I didn’t even know what it meant for ages; it took me until very recently to know just what she meant by it though…”

Before she could even puppet her tongue, a question forcibly spilled fourth, “What was that word?”

“Oh, I don’t think I can stand to say it,” Somehow, by only seeing the edge of his ears furrowing and the slightest shake of his body, the princess could tell that the old hedgehog was at least hurting if not actually crying, “I’m sorry.”

Carefully, slowly, Blaze reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. That contact seemed to freeze him entirely or, perhaps, it would be better said that her touch had petrified him, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, I’m sorry you lost someone you clearly cared so much for,” For whatever reason, even though it was what so many had said to her after Gardon’s death, that didn’t seem like enough, “But, judging by what you said when I first arrived, I’m sure she’d be very proud of you. It sounds like you’ve lived a difficult life and done more for your world than people will ever know.”

“She probably would be,” He turned back, eyes red and plainly tired. He rubbed at his eyes with his stub, “I suppose, I lived up to our agreement.”

“You had an agreement?” She automatically pried before instantly regretting her forwardness.

“We promised to save our world, regardless of the cost,” Those words carried a weight that, try as she might, Blaze couldn’t shake. He concluded with five simple words that carried a tremendous weight, “That cost was rather high.”

Again, words seemed to leave her before she could question whether it was right or wrong to ask, “Do you think it was worth it?”

“I like to think this was,” Pulling his hand from his face, he rubbed where his right hand should have been, “Other things though… no, not so much, but there’s no going back now. It’s too late now, there’s no way of making up for what we exchanged.”

Blaze didn’t even need to ask the next question on her mind- the gap was filled without her permission. He lost his partner, whoever this woman was, to their task, at what stage and age she had no idea, but Blaze could feel her heart bleeding for him. He was old and so there was no real way to know when he’d lost her, he talked as if it was recent but to her it felt as though she’d vanished from his life long ago. This was just so strange, Blaze felt so many things that she couldn’t express and couldn’t recall feeling before. Why was he talking with her about all this?

Floundering, struggling for something to raise his spirits, Blaze blurted, “W-What about the others? I assume you’ve spent time with Cream, Sonic, Amy, all of them? Bonding with them helped me, did it do the same for you?”

“To an extent, I can’t deny that, but I haven’t seen any of them for decades. I’ve been dealing with their children and their children’s children and so on…” Recalling that seemed to return some of the joy to his muzzle, “Their faces began to blur towards the end, I’m sure I called one of their furthest descendants Amy more often than by her own name,” He almost chuckled, “It feels like yours is the most unique face I’ve seen in years, Blaze.”

Not once had he referred to her as princess or by the likes of your majesty, he’d asked about it as her job but it clearly wasn’t who he considered her. The name Blaze seemed to fall from his mouth and slip into her ears so easily, as if it almost belonged in the space between the two of them. Venice didn’t seem as though it’d capture nearly the same space.

“But no, there was no replacing her; not even partially,” He managed to continue, bright eyes gleamed with light even as the sun was rapidly setting, “Knowing them helped certainly but it's only now, as I reach this twilight age, I’ve realised quite how much I miss her.”

Part of Blaze wanted to believe that was the only reason he was here, that the old man was a wandering soul that’d long lost its leash, but there was something in itching at the back of her head that told her that wasn’t true. Furthermore, while it sounded like there was some truth to what he’d said, it didn’t seem like the whole truth; his talk of forgetting echoed in her mind. Regardless of that though, this sad hedgehog had rather endeared himself to her and if she could help shed some of that weight from his shoulders then she’d have done good today.

“What was she like?” She more gently questioned.

“My partner was, and always will be, the best person I ever knew,” His remaining shoulder started to relax, his whole form seemed to loosen as his stare returned to the sunset, “She knew me better than I knew myself, whenever I was pushing myself too far she wouldn’t hesitate to stop me. Without even blinking, she wouldn’t hesitate to knock me down or tell me I was being foolish. My emotions would get the better of me rather often while, even though she usually felt the same as me, she subdued most of hers. Whenever she couldn’t though, whenever things grew too aggravating or a defeat crushed her, I was there as best as I could be to help,” Even though he was looking off into the distance, she could tell he was more imagining than staring at the sunset, “She’d read poetry and prose while I liked to play games and investigate history, but we shared a number of things…”

For whatever reason, though she assumed it to be second-hand embarrassment on the part of Venice’s long-lost partner, the way he’d phrased those first compliments and briefly regaled her with their history was warming the princess’ heart further still. She found herself shifting just a little closer, entirely enamoured with the way he talked about this woman. Though Blaze couldn’t even begin to picture this other time traveler in her mind, she felt as though she was familiar too. Albeit, in a very different way.

“The world we were born into was practically devoid of nature, plants refused to grow and rain rarely fell. The world of the past that we knew came from books and, of the collections of books we found, none would interest us like those tomes containing nature photography. They let us see waterfalls, lush green grass and sights we couldn’t have even fathomed,” He reminisced, “As soon as I found out about them, I’d compare her to a star so very often. It always seemed to embarrass her just a little, how I always thought they were so very pretty. I never meant it like that at the time, but hindsight and a life of living paints a rather different story. I was so very… well, it’s not her word, but I was very oblivious to both of our feelings.”

A few clouds had begun to drift, dusting the sky and obscuring the end of the sunset, but with a wave he rearranged the sky again. As he did so, she watched as his attention was pulled from that imagined place and arrived back at reality. What was pink had gradually drifted to a deeper red and the colour had begun to overwhelm the dark clouds that lingered upon it. Even as it was nearing its end, even if the sun would dip beneath the horizon in a matter of minutes, it was all still so beautiful.

“The way the sun paints the sky in such a natural way never ceases to amaze me. I love a bright blue sky, free of clouds, but the way this one contrasts and blurs them is just so…” The joy in his voice reached a crescendo, “I’m just so glad that I finally got to see this with you.”

“See this with me?” Blaze blinked; she’d been overjoyed to hear him talk so freely but that stumble caught her full attention.

Her questioning seemed to stop him in his tracks, just as it did her. What could he have possibly meant by that? Panic and regret crumpled his face, “Um, yes… I’m glad we could have our meeting, as in…” The hedgehog’s head quickly whipped from her again, “But it’s been so long, the sun’s almost set. I’m sorry, Blaze, I’ve taken up far too much of your time,” A flash of cyan emanated from beneath his robes and, before Blaze could even understand what was happening, he’d materialised a leg from light and risen to stand tall. His remaining hand was extended down to her, “I’m sure you must be very busy…”

“N-No, I… Venice,” As she took his hand and said that name for the first time, it felt so wrong in her mouth. It absolutely wasn’t his name, “I don’t know what has happened, or even who you truly are, but meeting you…” She scrambled for the right words, “I don’t know what it is, but I feel as if there’s much more to you. I’ve never talked to someone like this, let alone a stranger. We’ve hardly been together half an hour but-

“Th-That’s why I need to go, even that’s too long,” He grumbled before a pulsing hum began to overwhelm his words. He raised his remaining hand and from the ring in his palm a disk of cyan light was projected. With another gesture, it was pushed outwards and Blaze could see a swirling blue vortex within that hole, “I’ve probably stayed with you longer than I should have, I’m sorry.”

“Why did you actually come here? What did you come here to do?” Why was her voice wavering? Why was she getting louder? What did it matter if this stranger left? “You can’t have crossed time and space just to see me, why would you do that?”

“Even if things aren’t perfect, I’m glad you’re safe and comfortable here,” He wasn’t listening to her or, at the very least, he wasn’t acknowledging her words, “Please try to enjoy yourself. If you get the opportunity, please be with your friends more and live the life you want to live. You were…” He managed to look at her again, smiling while his eyes were stained red with tears, “You are brilliant, Blaze. I’m so glad I made it here before the end,” Without turning from her, he stumbled forward and vanished into that void.

Her immediate reflex was to follow but the hole collapsed on itself and vanished in the air, spluttering out his final words, “Good luck,” as it vanished from reality.

Alone on the docks, left with only the sound of the waves and the whistling of wind, Blaze felt something inside her ache in a way she’d never ached before. Who was that figure, why did she care, what had he meant by his end and why had he come? She didn’t feel like she was watching one of her citizens die, she didn’t even feel as she had at Gardon’s funeral; this was alien to her and yet so familiar.

Having only risen to her feet a moment ago, she stumbled back and ended up sitting on the dock again. Ahead of her was the sky that he’d cleared, the sun had just dipped beneath the horizon. It was only a matter of time before his last impact on the world would be blown away, clouds were already encroaching on the space he’d made. He’d be wiped from this world, the ship’s he’d revived for Marine would surely sink again, but, for some reason, that old man had claimed an eternal place within the princess’ soul.

Why that was and who he was she’d surely never know, but she hoped her heart would stop aching soon.

[junicai]

boil over.

| summary | Aria gives Jaemin some tough love (and then hugs)

| word count | 2.1k

| warnings | 1 (one) curse word

| era | circa. 2017, Jaemin’s hiatus

29. “NO! You can’t get up, you’re my prisoner for today.”

40. “Get out.”

a/n: anon i am so sorry. u said it would be funny i - it took a turn and i couldnt save it im so sorry

“Nana?” 

Aria knocked gently on Jaemin’s closed bedroom door with one hand, rapping her knuckles against the dark wood while her other hand balanced a plate in her palm precariously. 

There was no response heard through the door, and Aria frowned. She raised her fist again, knocking once again. “Jaemin? You asleep?” 

A low groan sounded this time, and Aria could hear the rustling of his bed sheets. 

“Can I come in?” 

“No.” Jaemin’s voice was rough with unuse, petulant to the point where Aria could hear the pout she knew he was donning in his tone.

“Too bad,” Aria shrugged, hand pressing the door handle open regardless, “Please don’t be naked.”

A spluttered sound came from inside the room when Aria pushed open the door, eyes trained on the ground. Stepping inside, the door closed behind her with a soft click and she heard the tell-tale rustle of Jaemin’s bedsheets that he was trying to adjust himself into a sitting position.

“Nana,” Aria scolded, turning briefly to place the plate down on the desk on the opposite side of the room before crossing the floor in three quick strides to make it to Jaemin’s bedside. Her hands reached out to help him lift himself but stopped in mid-air when a glare was sent her way.

“Get out.”

Aria could tell the words were meant to be cold, but they just came out petulant when accompanied by the slight whine Jaemin let out immediately following another attempt to push himself upright. 

“Oh shush,” Aria muttered, hands slipping underneath the sheet to place one on the small of his back and using the other to press his shoulders up. Slowly, Jaemin shuffled into a more sitting-like position, back pillowed up by several pillows that had been gathered onto his bed from around the dorm.

The Dreamies had banded together and collected what pillows they could spare - Jisung offering both pillows from his bed until Jeno reminded him that he actually needed one of those if he didn’t want to have neck pain every single morning for the foreseeable future. 

Stepping back from Jaemin, Aria placed her hands on her hips, eyebrow cocked at the boy who laid sheepishly in his bed, covers tucked underneath his chin.

“How’re you feeling?” Aria asked.

“I’m alright,” Jaemin said, dismissing her with a shrug. 

“So. Do you want to explain why you’ve spent the last two weeks moping in your bedroom and I had to find out about it after coming back from practice today? Or shall I find Injunnie and let him explain?” Aria said, head tilted to the left. 

Jaemin’s eyes fell away from Aria’s face, suddenly finding interest in the pattern-less sheets that covered his bed. His fingers played with the off-white material while his teeth nibbled on his bottom lip. 

Aria let out a sigh, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. It sank slightly underneath her weight, and Aria shuffled backwards so she was sitting comfortably. 

“Nana, it’s ok. It sucks. I know.”

“Do you?” 

Aria looked up surprised, eyebrows furrowing as she looked at Jaemin’s face. There were deep purple rings beneath his eyes but his skin was clearer; the lack of make-up was doing him good. Slightly thinner - the look all of them get when they’d been too busy to find time to eat a meal. By the plate on the floor beside his bed, still with a good deal of food on it - Aria wasn’t sure if it was the lack of time or the lack of desire.

 He looked tired, but also ticked, like something she’d said had rubbed him the wrong way.

“I don’t think you do.” Jaemin’s voice wasn’t angry, but his words held weight to them regardless.

Aria sat back slightly, taken aback by the sudden change of tone. “What-”

“I don’t think you understand this at all,” Jaemin interrupted her, pushing himself further upright with another small wince. “I don’t think a single person understands what its like to be told, a year after debuting that I’m going to have to take a six month or more hiatus. I don’t think you understand that I’m sitting her, watching you all go to practice and learn new dance routines and promote; and I’m being left behind. I don’t think you get the fact that it feels like I’ve been gut punched, and then told to walk it off!”

“Nana no that’s not what’s happening-”

“It is! It is what’s happening and you’re lying to me when you say it’s not. Its like trainee days but worse because I can’t even go to the practice room. Hell, I can’t even go home because the company doesn’t want me seen outside. So I’m stuck here, alone, no one else in the dorms for the most part of the day, can’t go see my family like you normally can on a hiatus, can’t do anything except sit here and be useless! Do you know what that’s like? I can’t see my parents, I can’t practice, I can’t do what I trained to do for years and you’re telling me that you understand? Bullshit.” Jaemin was yelling now, all the words that had been building up exploding on the wrong person.

Aria felt her teeth break the skin of her lip. 

“So,forgive me, for staying in my room all day. I just didn’t fancy having to drag you all away from practice to make sure I didn’t fall over myself on the way to the bathroom.” With a resounding bite in his words, Jaemin settled himself against the pillow again. 

It seemed like the conversation was over, Jaemin with his gaze fixed downwards on his extended legs. Aria kept her eyes upwards, blinking rapidly. But the fact that they were both still sitting in silence made the atmosphere fill up with tension like a bubbling pot that was half an inch away from an overflow. 

Jaemin had his hands folded in his lap, fingers toying with the unravelling string on the hem of his t-shirt as he refused to look back up. 

The pot boiled.

“I’m sorry.”

That, was not what he was expecting. 

“I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me. You’re right, I don’t know what it feels like.”

Suddenly, Jaemin was simultaneously infinitely grateful and incredibly disappointed that it was Aria whom he was having this conversation with. 

Had it been Donghyuck, he could only imagine the screaming match it would have turned into. Donghyuck was always quick to lose his cool when someone was being uncooperative, and Jaemin was looking to get a rise out of someone. It wasn’t even that Jaemin was unwilling to talk to them anymore, it was the fact that he insinuated the fact that they didn’t care about him? Donghyuck would have brought the walls down; and Jaemin doesn’t know if that’s something he craved at this moment or not.  

Renjun would have simply turned around and left the second Jaemin got huffy - the older boy had minimal patience for things like this, and liked to remove himself from the situation before he said something he would regret. 

Aria, on the other hand, would sit there and let Jaemin yell at her for however long he needed to with her head bowed and hands in her lap. She wouldn’t yell back, wouldn’t rise to meet his anger but would sit there calmly until it fizzled out like a candle wick burned down to the end, wax spilling over slowly until it hardened and became stagnant once more. 

Jaemin didn’t think he really wanted to yell; not anymore. 

Aria still wasn’t looking at him, choosing instead to focus her gaze on the top of his headboard. Her eyes were darting back and forth slightly, like she wanted to look down at him but kept thinking better of it. 

“I don’t know what it feels like, but what I do know is that it’s not going to get better if you hole yourself up in a room for six months,” Aria explained, hands curling into fists.

“The only thing you’re doing is making it worse, Nana. So so much worse for yourself - we don’t care about having to help you do things, we don’t care about being a few minutes late to practice because you needed something from the kitchen and just couldn’t face getting up again; we don’t care. And I need you to look at me right now and tell me you understand that.”

Jaemin looked at her. 

“We don’t care,” Aria spoke softer now. “What we care about is the fact that you’re in pain right now, and we care about what we can do to help you fix that.”

Jaemin let his face scrunch up, a retort forming on the tip of his tongue. 

“There’s no shame in asking for help, Jaemin.”

Jaemin sunk, boneless, into the pillows supporting him - a crack being multiplied by ten and suddenly shattering. The pot boiled, spilling over the sides and splashing down. Tears spilled over Jaemin’s cheeks, shoulders shaking as a fist was shoved into his mouth to stop himself from making a sound. 

“Oh, Nana,” Aria’s voice was saddened, a deep blue colour as she moved to lie beside Jaemin on the bed while being careful not to jostle the boy. “Please don’t cry, it’s okay.”

Jaemin only cried harder, teeth making indents in his skin until his hand was puled gently but insistently from his mouth and was being held in Aria’s hands. With no muffler there, a sob ripped itself from his chest and he choked at the force of it. 

Aria only moved closer, pushing herself up the bed slightly to allow Jaemin to hide his face in her chest as he cried. 

Jaemin shook through his cries, Aria running a hand through his hair the entire time. It was knotted, like he hadn’t brushed through it in a few days and she made a note to bring in one of their hairbrushes later on when he was asleep. 

Slowly, his sobs petered out into small sniffles, Aria’s shirt soaked through but she paid no mind to the wet material sticking to her skin. Her back ached slightly from the odd position she had forced herself into to ensure that Jaemin wouldn’t be twisted uncomfortably.

Jaemin’s breaths evened out again over the next ten minutes or so, eventually to the point that Aria was sure that the boy had fallen asleep until he shifted slightly to look up at her from his position lying on her chest. 

His red eyes were stark against his pale skin, and Aria never thought she’d be jealous of how prettily someone cried and yet here she was. 

Jaemin rubbed at his nose slightly with the corner of his sheet, sniffling and then sneezing when the loose ends tickled his nose. He let out a watery laugh, throat clogged slightly and he cleared it when Aria began to smile despite herself.

He choked out another weak laugh before pressing himself back into Aria’s side. 

The air stilled around them, the pot taken off the heat and now cooling in the aftermath. 

Aria kept her hand carding through his hair, letting her other hand move to rub gently at Jaemin’s ear in a soothing gesture now that she didn’t need to keep herself elevated slightly. 

Her arms ached, but she paid no mind to it, instead choosing to delicately open their little pocket of serenity. 

“You’re so important to us, Nana. You can’t forget that.”

Jaemin declined to respond, instead choosing to hide his face further into the material of Aria’s clothes. 

“Even if this hiatus takes seven, or eight months. Or a year. There’s always a place for you in Dream. Always.”

This time Jaemin sniffled, still refusing to speak but let his hand come up from underneath the sheets to intertwine with Aria’s. She squeezed it lightly, holding it tight in her grasp. 

They stayed that way for another while, Jaemin slowly falling into sleep while Aria pet his hair. 

“Nana,” Aria whispered, moving closer so that he would hear her.

Jaemin made a small hum in acknowledgement. 

“I have to go prep dinner for the others, they should be back soon.” Aria apologized.

There was nothing for a second, and then Jaemin was craning up to look back at Aria; eyes wide and sparkling. 

“Stay?”

Aria stayed.

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #32 - Nobody’s Ever Actually Dead in Comic Books

Our band of merry guys-who-weren’t-on-the-Lost-Light-in-issue-#1 approach the shattered husk of the Lost Light, in a gruesome scene that is only slightly marred by the graphic design.

Font doesn’t really suggest danger, does it? Here, for comparison, is something I slapped together in fifteen minutes (including recreation of background) using a font I got off a free font site.

Now, one could say that my version is rather derivative, flat, and arguably cliche, but you know what else it is? Appropriate for the fucking mood of having found a destroyed, hemorrhaging ship after everyone you knew disappeared.

I’m available, IDW! Hit me up.

Theorizing that this is the ship that the Coffin Rodimus came from- remember that? It was a few issues ago- the gang flies in for a closer look. The ship blood is actually something called quantum foam, which allows for quantum space travel to happen. It’s not supposed to be outside of the quantum quills, but the ship’s pretty junked up, so it is.

Because the ship is so very full of holes, the gang can set down for repairs pretty easy. They land in Swerve’s, finding it in less-than-pristine condition. They also find evidence of Crosscut having gotten creative, as a poster for the play he was working on is hung up in the room. Considering he was still writing it when he disappeared, this might seem a bit odd. But then you remember that this is a ship from the future, and it stops being so odd.

Because this is a future ship, with evidence that Crosscut did some stuff, it stands to reason that, at some point, everyone is going to come back from being disappeared.

Just to die.

Which is a bummer, but one crisis at a time.

Megatron disembarks the Rod Pod, with Ravage following, and everyone is just a touch put off by the duo. Everyone but Nautica, who proceeds to commit a microaggression.

Nautica, that’s Soundwave’s father you’re petting like a common animal.

Ravage, angered by this over-familiarity, swats at her. Skids questions letting an active Decepticon roam around, but Megatron brushes off these concerns, saying that finding any still-living crew members is more important. With that, the search begins.

The gang splits up to look for clues, despite Riptide thinking this is a horrible idea. They’re on the clock for this one- the quantum foam is liable to explode if it touches anything, and there’s an awful lot of the stuff floating around right now.

Nightbeat and Nautica leave the rest of the group to their own work, seeing as Nautica has the most appropriate alt-mode for traversing the gaps in the ship.

Man, that’s pretty cool. Wish Nautica hadn’t been regulated to being “girl best friend” for her character arcs, I would have loved to see her do some neat stuff for her own development. Guess that’s what happens when you get introduced as main cast late, and have to compete with all the faves who had dozens of issues to be established and who also don’t have to deal with the whole “token girl character” thing.

The rest of the gang- Megatron, Ravage, Riptide, Skids, and Getaway- start looking in the area they’re already in. Seems a little lopsided, but whatever.

Ravage finds someone almost immediately, identifying Ultra Magnus through smell alone. Only, it isn’t just Ultra Magnus.

The Magnus armor lays not terribly far away, having had its hands cut off to prevent the recall signal from being activated before being gut-murdered.

Gut-murdered wiTH A FUSION CANNON, MEGATRON

Of course, Megatron was forced to destroy his fusion canon after it was decided he would be joining the Lost Light, but you can buy these things off the black market like it’s nothing. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if Brainstorm had a few stashed in his lab.

As it currently stands, nobody can trust the guy who has a storied past of killing Autobots, on a future ship where the only folks who could stop him are dead. Megatron, at least, has the good sense to not argue this fact, and suggests that the boys lock both Ravage and himself up until they suss out exactly what happened.

Meanwhile, over with Nautica and Nightbeat, we run through all the weird shit that’s happened in the last day or so.

Nautica, you’ve been on this ship for months now. How did you miss the fact that the only couple within 800 miles got annihilated by way of Phase Sixer? I feel like that attack might have come up at some point.

Since they’re on the subject of spouses, Nightbeat asks Nautica if she’s married, or if she has friends. Though noting that such a direct line of questioning might get him slapped with someone else, Nautica reveals that she is single, though she does have a best friend. Nightbeat is also single, probably because he pulls shit like this.

While this conversation is going on, Nautica uses her Sonic Screwdriver wrench to open a door with the literal push of a button. Brainstorm tricked out her wrench so hard it turned into a magic wand, which is good, because they’re going to need all the help they can get now that space is literally warping around them thanks to the quantum foam.

Nautica kicks something on the elevator, and that something turns out to be Brainstorm’s mysterious briefcase. Too bad Swerve is gone, he was so invested in what it contained. Luckily, Nightbeat is just as interested.

Back over on the other side of the ship, it seems as though Megatron kept his word about not resisting, as both he and Ravage have been locked in a cabinet. Wonder how that’s going for them.

Oh, better than I expected.

Ravage is fucking pissed that Megatron joined the Autobots, thereby turning his back on everyone who supported his cause during the last four million years. Despite this grievous betrayal though, the Decepticons haven’t stopped moving. Turns out, Galvatron’s in charge now.

But only if Autobot Megatron isn’t some sort of ploy.

It’s at this point that we learn just why Ravage is here to begin with- to see if Megatron’s truly given up the Decepticons, and if he has, to murder him. But first he’d like to know why this is happening.

Megatron views himself as a monster, having perpetuated a war that ended the lives of billions, destroyed the Cybertronian way of life, ostracized his race from the rest of the universe, and killing just to have something to do. He doesn’t like feeling this way about himself, so he decided to walk away from that life by joining the other team.

Don’t think it’s quite that easy to do, but okay.

Ravage isn’t so sure that this change of heart is going to stick, still convinced that Megatron will snap back to his old self with just a bit more time. Problem is, Megatron may not have a ton of that resource left.

Didn’t they build that body in like an hour so you wouldn’t die? Yeah, no wonder it feels as ill-fitting as a twenty-dollar suit. Thing’s probably made out of pig iron and duct tape.

The lights come on before further self-reflection can be done, and the duo realize that they’ve had guests this whole time.

Someone put the kettle on.

Obviously some fucked up shit happened on this ship. Megatron isn’t so sure that it’s him who did these dirty deeds, however, as he reaches into Ratchet’s mouth and pulls out his brain. Which feels like something that doesn’t really absolve one of guilt, but okay.

Also, ew.

Back with Nautica and Nightbeat, things are getting weird.

Now, this sequence might seem confusing at first blush, but this is because the laws of reality are collapsing around them. Going by clues in the background, we can find the proper, linear progression of time, and thus is conversation. This is what is actually happening:

With the mystery of Brainstorm’s briefcase eluding us once again, we move on to see more graphic aftermaths of violence. Poor Tailgate has been nailed to the wall with a chunk of a metal beam that’s almost as big as he is. The mood lighting for this scene is gorgeous, but I’ve hit my limit for exposing y’all to gore for this issue, so you’ll just have to trust me on this one. Then they find something even more interesting.

Who’s ready for Under Cold Blue Stars… 2!

Back over on the opposite side of the ship, Riptide’s found something nasty. It’s a bunch of dead bodies!

Including, uh, Pipes.

Who already died a while ago.

Hm.

All the bodies in this room are in their alts, and it looks like they’ve all been shot and drilled into, for some reason. Skids brings up that he had a friend who could identify the placement of any robot’s brain module just by knowing what they turned into. Then he reaches into a corpse to see what the drill-hole’s all about. It makes him sick, though maybe not for the reason you might think. He gets on the phone with Nightbeat, who’s called to tell them that they’ve found Overlord.

Still locked in his weird body harness.

And decapitated.

Megatron is on the other line, calling because he’s figured out the same thing Skids has. Someone paid a visit to this ship. Someone nasty.

The gang regroups, and Nautica gets the basics on the DJD, because I guess nobody’s mentioned them even in passing in the last six months, either.

God, what do they even talk about on this ship? Certainly not their feelings.

The reason that one room was filled with alt-modes was because of Tarn’s addiction to transforming; t-cogs are easier to remove when they’ve been used recently.

We get a quick 4/5ths-page gore-fest, then it’s back to making it all about Megatron.

Maybe you should have thought about that before you FUCKING DEFECTED, YOU POOL NOODLE.

Nightbeat’s beginning to put two and two together. There’s an Overlord in the basement. That shouldn’t be, because Overlord got exploded by Chromedome when he mercy-killed Rewind. Something is off about the past of this ship.

Before he can establish his MTMTE everybody-lives-but-then-dies AU though, the quantum foam fucks with the ship. These sons of guns need to get the hell out of here, pronto.

Oh god, what now?

Ravage smells someone inside the Magnus armor, someone who isn’t a part of the usual nesting doll lineup. Megatron reaches into the Crackerjack box and pulls out one hell of a prize.

HE LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVES

Chromedome would be so thrilled, if he still existed.

[thebigqueer]

Solangelo - "Lethal Enemies" - One-Shot

Summary: Nico and Will are venturing through Tartarus, and there they meet a familar god: Eros.

Word Count: 2905

SPOILERS: Tower of Nero, Burning Maze; TW: Homophobia/Internalized Homophobia, some violence (and blood but it's not too descriptive), outing mentions

Read on AO3

Heat pulses in the air, scorching Nico’s skin as he and Will stumble through the darkness. He isn’t sure how long they’ve been down here, but his body is already aching and screaming from all the effort of fighting monsters and trying to survive.

Will’s arm brushes against Nico’s, and the child of Hades almost jumps back at the touch. His skin feels feverishly hot, bursting with unnatural heat. When Nico looks up at him, he realizes that Will’s face is severed with scratches, gashes, sweat, and an overall pale wash. Small holes smoke in his CHB T-shirt, and his jeans are ripped at the sides from where a monster clawed him.

At the sight of him, Nico’s chest constricts with sympathy and guilt. As much as he loves Will for coming with him, he knows the kind of pressures that would put on both of them. Will looks so out of place in such a dark, gloomy world, where only terror and misery reside.

To Nico, Will is the complete opposite of terror and misery. He’s the sunshine after a terrible rain storm; he’s the sweetness after the sourness. But here, in the raging darkness, Will looks washed out. He doesn’t belong here.

Tartarus is Nico’s terrifying, unspeakable past; Will is his bright future. The two should not be clashing.

This hell was made to ruin. And it seems like it’s doing its job on Will, too.

Nico slips his fingers into the blond’s and squeezes, pushing his own feverish warmth into his boyfriend. Will turns his face to Nico’s and, for the first time, Nico sees a crack in his eyes - usually so sky blue, they’ve turned almost gray with fear. He’s breaking.

Nico leans into Will’s side, trying to find solace in the overbearing darkness. “It’s only going to get worse,” he mutters.

“Then I’m glad I’m not doing it alone.”

Nico offers a wavering smile, and they continue walking. For the most part, it seems like they’re safe from any monsters, but Nico knows from past experience that he can never be too careful. His eyes swerve all around them, watching out for any new monsters, and his Stygian sword pulses in the darkness.

After a few moments, there’s a shift in the air. It’s still warm and unbearable, but there’s a new scent - like a faint waft of the outside world, the breath of a fresh summer day. It smells almost like Will.

The blood in Nico’s veins buzzes and he stops immediately. Fear courses through his body. Will staggers as the child of Hades grips his wrist and pulls him back. At the sight of Nico’s ashen face, Will leans in. “Everything good?” he asks.

“That smell,” he whispers. “What does it smell like to you?”

“Well,” Will says, eyebrows knitting together as he thinks, “it kind of smells like you, weirdly? Like, the earth after a rainy day.”

That’s all Nico needs to know before panic settles in his chest. His mind crawls with memories and the pain of humiliation he faced just a year ago. Jason, Croatia, Diocletian’s spectre.

“No,” he mutters. “Will, we need to leave.”

Without waiting for a response, Nico tightens his fingers over Will’s wrist and starts to pull him away. But a voice murmurs, “Oh, leaving so soon, child of Hades?” and Nico knows right then and there that he and Will are trapped.

The voice pours over the heat like melted chocolate, smooth and deep, but a dagger of betrayal resides in it. Nico’s heart thuds on overtime and his nerves flair with anxiety, but he knows he can’t go anywhere. This meeting was bound to happen.

“Eros,” Nico hisses.

“Ah,” the voice murmurs. “So you recognize me.”

The god isn’t visible, but Nico can feel his cold presence anyway. “Who would forget such a jackass?”

A low, rumbling laugh echoes around them. Will’s hand releases its hold on Nico’s and lingers over the gun at his side. Nico raises his sword.

“Well, well, well,” the god says, “it looks like you’ve got a new friend here with you. How sweet.”

“Show yourself,” Will demands. “Face us like the hot-headed deity you are.”

Though he can’t see it, Nico still senses the raised eyebrow over the god’s eye. “Oh, he’s feisty, too. You sure have won with him.”

“Stop talking about him like he’s some kind of object,” says Nico. “You heard him. Show yourself.”

The same laughter crashes over them, and after another moment, a being appears. His long, black hair gleams despite the absence of light, and his red eyes glimmer maliciously in the darkness. They stare right through Nico, stabbing him in the face, and suddenly Nico’s hurtling to the past, to the misery. He scowls at the god.

Eros’ wings spread around him, the feathers fluttering a little as he shifts. He crosses his arms and offers a sharp smirk to Will and Nico. “Aw, look at you two,” he purrs. “So young and in love. Ready to fight together in Tartarus.”

“What do you want?” Nico asks, brandishing his sword. “Why are you bothering us?”

Eros’ shoulders rise and fall gracefully in an innocent shrug. “Oh, nothing, really. I was really just hoping to see how you were. I heard you were traveling down here, and I thought I would check on your progress.”

“Well, great. You’ve checked. You can leave.”

He laughs again, a low, tumbling laugh that heightens Nico’s rage. “Ever the sarcastic, child of Hades. No, listen. I can help you.”

“And how will you do that?” Will asks, raising an eyebrow. “You’re nothing more than a love god.”

“Have the Aphrodite children taught you nothing, pitiful child?” Eros hisses. “Love plays an important role in life.”

“I don’t see how love is helpful here,” Nico says, spreading his arms to gesture to the rest of Tartarus. “All I see is pain and misery. You can leave.”

“Oh, but I see where love can become important.” Eros raises a brow and tips his head to the boys. “Are you two not in love?”

Nico blushes. “That is not of your concern.”

“I can influence a lot,” he promises. “Especially the way you two act together. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase - the two you were oh-so-jealous of only some time ago - came here together. They got away safely. I can influence a lot between you and Will Solace.” He steps forward, and against his lips, a dagger-like smile beams at Nico.

The son of Hades crosses his arms. “I happen to remember that I got through here on my own. Love does not solve all problems.”

Eros raises an eyebrow. “Does it not?” He begins to circle around Will and Nico, glaring at them with his ruby-red eyes. “Tell me, Nico, does Will not make you feel special? Does he not help you feel better?”

Rage billows up in Nico’s chest, pushing against his sternum. “I am happy with Will. But he does not solve my problems, just the way I do not solve his.”

“But you are happier with him, is that right?” Another smile flashes across his mouth. “And who are you to thank for him, hmm? If it were not for me, you would not be here today with him. You would not be happy accepting who you are.”

Nico’s anger rises up to this throat, hot waves of rage crashing against the back of his neck. He surges forward, but Will pulls him back. “No,” he whispers. “He’s a god, Nico. Don’t try.”

Nico glares at Will, but deep down, he knows Will is right. So he sighs and stands still.

“I would not be happy?” he growls. Nico's muscles tighten with rage. “You humiliated me. I wasn’t ready to admit who I was; I wasn’t ready for any of that.” This time, despite Will’s insistence, Nico rushes forward, his anger pulling him toward the god. “It was my choice, and you stole it from me! And you’re congratulating yourself?”

“It’s not like there were many people there,” the god scoffs. “Only Grace.” He pouts. “I heard about the demigod’s untimely death, however. Terribly sorry.”

Nico shakes his head. He knows Eros is just trying to get under his skin by mentioning Jason. He can’t let himself get distracted.

“Your outing of me was not something to celebrate,” hisses Nico. “I spent so much time hating myself, hating Percy because of who I was. When you forced me to blatantly admit that I was gay” - a burst of confidence blooms in Nico’s chest as he says the last word - “I had never felt so violated. I only hated myself more, because I was terrified of who I was. The entire experience was humiliating. You ruined me.”

“Did I?” Eros asks. “The first step in accepting yourself was to admit you were gay in the first place. I pushed you to accept yourself.” He gestures to Will. “Now look where you are! Happy and in love with a boyfriend! Is there anything better?”

Nico’s chest heaves as another wave of rage suffocates him. His body shakes with anger. He feels like a detonating bomb; in just a few seconds, he will explode and destroy everything in the area.

“You only made things worse,” mutters Nico. “I spent days worrying about who was watching me, worrying about how much people knew. I hated myself every moment, every second afterwards, even more so than before you forced me to admit that I was gay.” Nico takes a deep breath, his chest expanding as he does so. “Maybe you’re right - maybe I did need to admit to myself who I was. But it should have been on my own terms. You did not help me accept myself; all you did was make me tell myself what I already knew. You made the entire process of accepting myself more difficult than it needed to be. When I spat out that I liked Percy, I felt… I felt violated. I felt like someone had stabbed me right through the back. I… I hated myself more than I ever did at that moment. I thought it was the end; I thought right then and there, I would die. Not from embarrassment, but from someone else’s hands. My own hands. I thought there was nothing more humiliating than to be forced to tell someone I didn’t know that I was some kind of disgusting creature. I felt so dehumanized.” Nico glares at Eros. “Don’t feel happy that you did that. You did not improve my life; only I did that. Not Will, not you, not any of my friends. Me. Do not take credit for my accomplishments.” Hot fury seethes in Nico’s core, washes up over his chest, crashes against his throat, trickles down his arms and legs. His lungs expand and exhale as he breathes hard, each breath like acid burning down his sinuses. “My work has been looked over too much, ever since I first learned of demigods. Do not take the credit for my self-improvement, because you are one of the many reasons I was destroyed in the first place.”

For a moment, no one speaks. An eerie silence lingers in the air, holding Nico in a chokehold. Eros simply watches him, his eyebrows lowered and a fierce, judgmental, angry look glowing in his red eyes. Will tilts his head at Nico and offers the ghost of a smile. I'm proud of you, he seems to be saying.

Nico doesn’t return it, but even then, a little flower of confidence blooms in his chest.

Eros crosses his arms once more, airing his defiance out into the open. Arrogance sparks along his wings. He raises a brow at Nico. “You have become more bold in yourself. Self-assured.” A sharp smile grates against his mouth. “And that would not have happened had you not admitted you were gay at all. I may have humiliated you, but in the end, you have become stronger through your pain. You have become sturdy, grounded into the world. I have led you to your happiness.” He offers a secretive smile to Will. “And your happiness is your boyfriend. You’re welcome.”

Nico watches Eros, glaring at his over-confident face, at his casual posture, at the pride in his eyes. He is too assured in himself, too hot-headed.

The sword in Nico’s hand grows heavier, a hum buzzing through the metal. Irritation and anger swirl in his chest, creating a tornado in his body, and he’s drowning, drowning in his rage, in his memories, in his untamed emotions.

He knows what he has to do.

Nico raises his sword, and, without even thinking, he slashes the god’s shoulder.

“Nico!” Will cries, but it’s too late. Eros cries out and hisses through his teeth, holding his arm in his hand. His angry red eyes gleam right at the child of Hades, projecting all his rage and pain right to Nico’s core. The demigod merely stands still, waiting for the god’s next move.

“Oh, you arrogant hero!” Eros cries. Golden ichor slips past his fingers, dripping onto the ground, and for a strange, fleeting moment, Nico finds that it looks beautiful in the darkness, sparkling where it should not be.

Only pain belongs in Tartarus. Nico wants to hurt Eros the way he hurt him.

Nico knows the act was stupid, but he can’t help the grin that takes over his face. Laughter bubbles out of his chest, sprinkled with something maniacal, something angry. “What’s wrong, my lord?” Nico purrs, leaning against his sword. “You said love fixes pain. Can it fix you?”

Eros snarls at Nico, but the son of Hades doesn’t care. Nothing beats the thrill that thrums in his body at the sight of the god being so frustrated.

Eros pants through the pain, his face turning red. “You think you are something special, don’t you, child?”

Nico laughs, the sound of it ironic in such a painful place. The laugh overflows with repressed pain, with hot anger.

That laugh belongs here in Tartarus, with its madness and rage.

“Oh, Eros,” Nico mutters. “I spent so long thinking I deserved nothing. I spent so long thinking everywhere I went, misery followed me. I have never felt special.” He glances up and down at the god. “You asked me if even Will makes me feel special. Well, no. He makes me… feel good. But you know what makes me feel actually special?”

Despite his rage, curiosity strangles Eros’ eyes. He waits for a response, hissing as more ichor spills out of his godly being.

“What makes me feel good, what makes me feel like I have a worth in this world,” Nico says as a smile creeps over his face, offering him a maniacal glow, “is when I provide justice to those who have done wrong. Originally I always believed Death has no mercy, only justice.” He slashes again at Eros, who cries louder and falls to his knees. He pants through the pain. “Well, I suppose there are other ways to provide justice.”

Nico runs his finger through the golden ichor that gleams over his sword. Touching it, Nico’s finger tingles with power. He looks at Eros again. “What makes me feel special is when I defeat entitled assholes like you, my lord.”

“You have not defeated me,” the god growls.

“No, not physically,” Nico agrees. “But I have defeated the pain you have caused me.” He touches the tip to Eros’ chin, balancing it mere millimeters from his skin. The point gleams red as it reflects the glow of Eros’ eyes. “Begone, you pitiful asshole.”

Eros snarls and throws Nico’s sword away, but the demigod only smiles. This is exactly the reaction he wanted.

“You cannot kill me, arrogant hero,” Eros reminds him.

“No, but I can scare you.” Raising an eyebrow at him, Nico says, “Many have been scared of me. I am a child of Hades. You may be a god, but you have no idea of what I am capable of.”

Eros regards Nico with a sharp glare, but the sight of it no longer grates against Nico’s conscience. He’s only bursting with energy, with confidence. He hasn’t felt so alive in years. Power hums in his core, billows over his chest, courses through his veins. He feels almost invincible.

“You have made an enemy, Nico di Angelo,” Eros promises. “And love is no enemy you want. Especially not with someone in your situation.”

Nico falters. What does Eros mean? Does he mean his being gay? Does he mean with society in general? Then Nico turns to his boyfriend, who’s shivering with fear and adrenaline at his side, and it clicks. He means Will.

Nico scowls at Eros. “You say I have made an enemy, Eros, but the truth of the matter is that you made me an enemy long ago. When you first stabbed me in the shoulder with your weapon.” Nico glances at the wound on Eros’ left arm and shakes his head. “You made a mistake long ago. You are only now realizing it.”

Silence lingers around them, floating tensely in the hot air. Then Eros says, “I can influence a lot.” A glimmer of confidence returns in his eyes. “Be warned, child of Hades.”

With that, Eros disappears. And Will and Nico are left alone once more, staring ahead to whatever terrors lie ahead.

[southerneldritch]

-A Year Later, Misha-

The smoke rose in a thick line from the burning embers of the tip of the cigarette, an off brand from the shop in town. Misha drew in a deep and long drag as he looked out across the night sky above the cold southern expanse of the Tronador valley. As he went further up the mountain, it was nice to look back towards the small lights of Puerto Varas, where he had received the intel that pointed him up this impressively cold mountain. Misha was no stranger to cold, but with how hot it was in the town this August he hadn’t expected the trek to plunge him into frigid temperatures. Nevertheless, with his collar lifted and another smoke lit, he marched forward.

The night was getting colder and the path, if you could call it one, was more than likely made entirely by wayward goats without intention or significance. Santino knew better than to give Misha bad intel, especially with something as important as this, but still there was a nagging at the back of Misha’s mind that this could be a trap. 

He’d had a few difficult tussles since he left the comfort of the states to pursue what truth he had seen, what memories had been returned to him. Briefly, he considered the nightmare of New Orleans and what he’d had to do with the good Doctor. The sight of what that man had become, what that man committed to before slipping under the floodwaters of the ill-gotten city was still clear in his mind. Misha liked that his mind felt less like a mystery than before, but he was torn when he thought of the life he had built in Avenyork, the friends….friend he had made. 

After another long drag of the cigarette, Misha found himself spotting the low light of a small cabin tucked into the mountainside. “Finally. I hope they have a fire going” he muttered to himself as he trudged on. Arriving at the small cabin, he could hear some music playing from inside. It sounded Russian. With a firm knock he stood out in the cold for a moment before the music fell silent and the door was cracked open. Dark brown eyes stared out from the warmth of the structure. “¿Sí, Qué quieres?”

“¿Oleg está aquí?” Misha responded. There was a slight look of confusion on the face of the man holding the door.

“Hablas español mejor que Oleg” He smiled and opened the door wider, gesturing for Misha to step inside. 

“lo hago pero no lo prefiero.” Misha smirked as he stepped through the doorway, adding “¿Habla usted Inglés?”

“Si, but is not as good. But Oleg prefer it too.” The man, short in stature, shut the door behind Misha and led him to a chair at a table in the middle of the room. Misha could smell some sort of soup or stew being made on the fireplace and there was a small phonograph player on a small table to the side. “Oleg tried to make me learn Russian, HA” he laughed “Not happen”

“Russian is not easy language to master. Don’t worry my english is very good.” Misha sat down roughly, tired as he was. “Where is Oleg?” His eyes drifted around the room and saw a small bed tucked in the corner and a single door into the back room.

“He went to gather last few ingredients for stew” The man sat down across from Misha “Mi nombre es Mateo, ehhh” A pause “My name, Mateo. You?” His clothes were a bit large for his build and he seemed calm, despite a stranger banging on his door at this late hour in the mountains. 

“Misha” Misha stated as he absorbed the room, gathering as much as he could. “And how did Oleg come to find you?”

“Oh as most. The people in town. They know my skills” He smiled and folded his fingers together. His nails were clean and bright yet something dark was under them. “And what is Oleg to you?”

Misha paused and considered the question. “Old friends,” adding, “How long do you think he’ll be?” He kept his eyes on swivel as he watched Mateo’s every move. 

“He not be much longer” Mateo smiled wide, teeth looking wet. “Last ingredients are most important.” He gestured towards the pot next to the fireplace. 

“Yes.” There was a pause in the room. The cold of the outdoors permeated everything despite the roaring fire. “The final touches are always important.” Before the pause could go on much longer, Misha asked, “So I heard music as I approached. Shall we put some on while we wait for Oleg?”

“YES!” Mateo exclaimed, his voice almost heavy with excitement. “Please go crank up the record” he half laughed “Oleg brought very good”. Misha stood and made his way towards the phonograph. It was an old thing that looked worse for the wear, and there on the pad was an old Russian record. The crank made an awful noise as he turned it. The creaking, clanking and the sound of the spring tightening was a mixture of bizzare and otherworldly sounds that caused the hairs on Misha’s neck to stand up on end. 

As Mateo reached the last click of the player, Misha noticed an imperial Russian coat on the floor by the fireplace. Heavy outerwear that would work well in the growing cold outside the house. A coat Oleg would not have left without care. Misha’s stomach turned to sand and there were alarm bells going off as he felt his muscles tightened without thinking to do so. 

“So Oleg?” Misha spoke as the record wurred to life with the sounds of a Russian folk tune, he turned back towards Mateo and regretted his decision immediately. Mateo with wide open eyes was looking directly at Misha, though he had not turned his body, only his head which was situated facing almost entirely the wrong direction. His mouth looked as if it had broken free and his head cocked backwards as a horrific guttural sound of nightmares filled the small cabin. Misha reached for his pistol as Mateo’s form folded and ripped and slid off of the large creature now flinging itself at him. His gun had only gotten out of the holster before the creature was on top of him. Slamming Misha down hard, the gun slipped from his hand. His head was spinning but his training kicked in harder than ever. The snarling maw of the grotesque thing was dripping down onto him as he kicked his heel back and slammed it hard into the beast. The creature folded back and shrieked. It grasped at its side that was bleeding a thick red ichor.

“Piece of Shit!” Misha exclaimed as he rolled over and tapped his heel again, the blood stained blade retracting into the side of his boot. Tumbling to his feet next to his revolver and snatching it up to look towards the creature writhing. Drawing a deep breath with a mixture of words under his breath Misha steadied his pistol on the shadowed and dripping beast. The upbeat tunes of the Russian folk music punctuated the snarl of the thing as it whipped around to face Misha.

“YOU ARE TOO LATE FOR FRIEND '' The voice spilled from various holes around the thing. With sounds of gravel being forced through flesh, the tone still somehow sounded like the small man of Mateo, even if the creature had very few traces of his flesh sticking to its dripping form. Within a second it lept towards Misha and without a second guess the gun belched fire. The small piece of metal tore through the creature, though it was not enough to stop its energy. Slamming down in front of him and bringing a thunderously hard slam into his side, the creature sent Misha hurling into the wall at the back of the shack. Wood splintered as the low light of the cabin was lost.  

Misha woke, lying inside the small back room, “Uhhhghhh.” He let  a moan escape before sitting up. The bodies of curious travellers and seekers of information alike were strung up and stored around the room. Likely as some sort of food source. “Oh Oleg,” he muttered as he eyed the opening now splintered through the wall into the main room of the cabin. “I guess you didn’t come as prepared as you should have.” Misha began to unload the revolver and slips his hand into an interior pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a few special looking cartridges with emblazoned symbols upon the shells. Before he was able to load them, the mass of the creature barges through, up, over and towards him.

“YOU SOON DEAD NEW RUSSIAN!” The creature gurgled forward with a sense of pained anger. While the previous strikes may not have been lethal, they certainly hurt. It clearly was angry now. Seeing it close the distance with its previous speed, Misha abandoned loading the gun and braced himself instead. No amount of training can steel one against the purely physical blows of a wretched beast. Misha found himself tumbling back out of the hole his body had just made in the wall. He managed to land on his feet and was able to load the special rounds.

“Not quite yet you piece of SHIT!” He called out mocking the creature as the last round click into the cylinder and he snapped the gun shut. The hammer set, he began to speak softly as the chamber emitted a soft glow, faint but there. “I’m not done with you!” He exclaimed as he saw the twisted gleam of the eyes of the creature peer over the hole in the wall.

Releasing a growling shriek the creature retorted, “YOU DIE NOW OTHERS ARE FOOD ENOUGH!!!” as it launched over the broken timbers and slammed foot after foot, hand after hand towards Misha. Its jaws unhinged as it lept but before it bit down into the flesh of this painful nuisance, Misha dropped down, dodging the thing and letting loose two shots directly point blank into its belly. Hellish green and blue fire erupted from the wounds as large bulbs exploded around the impact zones. The creature cried out and slammed into, then through, the outer wall out into the cold snow of the mountainside. It let out a weak chitter of pain and confusion.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here Oleg.” Misha slowly stepped over the rubble of the wall and towards the thing. It’s body convulsing and folding, bones twisting inside its loose skin. “But this thing won't hurt anyone else.” Misha stood over it and let loose a loud single shot through what could best be described as its ‘head’. A few moments of the bright burn of green and blue light and the echo of the shot through the mountains, and Misha was alone. 

New snow began to fall silently. He flipped open his notebook to a page full of names. He crossed out the last name on the page, ‘Oleg Fedorov.’ The steam of his breath was thick as he let out a long long sigh. With a fresh cigarette in his lips, he glanced at the Verum Private Detective badge paper clipped into his notebook. He looked into the cold night. 

Softly, to the silence, he says, “I think I miss home.” 

(by J. Daily)

[wheres-sam]

I binge-watched the spn anime because of the brain rot

It’s bad except for the parts that are good, and it’s pretty to look at. Here’s a comprehensive list of pros and cons. Spoilers ahead!

Pros:

- more psychic kid backstories: Max (Nightmare), Lily (Darkness Calling), Jake (Loser)

- more psychic Sam

- more Azazel

- basically if you want more about the psychic/demon kids, watch the anime

- more young Winchesters

- the monsters, the superhuman abilities, the fight scenes, it all looks really cool animated. (But PSA it’s violent. It doesn’t shy away from blood and gore.)

- Sam and Jessica backstory

- more of the brothers being cute and funny together

- Missouri isn’t forgotten

- includes some Japanese legends/mythology

- the impala looks great in every scene. They did Baby good

- the “Supernatural” intro title

- the outro sketches of the boys hanging out with Baby

- Episodes adapted from the original show are different, but I like some of the changes? It’d be boring if it was an exact retelling and the visual medium wasn’t utilized. (I know I said spoilers before, but this is when they get detailed. If you wanna skip over, I’ll tell you where they STOP.)

Nightmare goes more into the abuse Max has suffered. Instead of locking Sam in a closet, Max sends Sam through the floor and covers the hole by breaking his bed in half, and it’s extremely sexy how Sam shoves the 2 halves apart with his mind. Later on Dean puts bandaids on Sam and they talk about demons loudly in front of a fast food intercom.

In My Time of Dying highlights the guilt Sam feels over Dean. In both the og and the anime John verbally blames Sam for not shooting Azazel, but where in the og Sam goes right on arguing, in the anime he reels back for a moment like he was slapped. Dean’s spirit touches Sam’s shoulder, and Sam knows immediately that it’s Dean. He doesn’t even question it. Instead of “Are you here?” it’s “I know you’re with me. I can feel it.” And I love that. Dean figures out right away he’s dealing with a reaper, and the reaper takes on the appearance of Mary to convince Dean to move on to the afterlife. Instead of a Ouija board, Sam uses a laptop to talk to Dean, and the first word Dean types is “Sammy!” Dean is so fond of his little brother and Sam is so baby.

Rising Son is an anime only episode, but it draws inspiration from John’s journal. Dean has a proper breakdown over his dad’s death and the possibility of having to kill Sam. Ms. Lyle, Sam’s favorite teacher who turns out to be possessed, is explored. John takes Dean hunting, and in the journal Dean hesitates to shoot a buck, and little Sam shoots it thinking it was endangering Dean. In the anime, Dean’s cornered by a moose and Sam makes it explode with his mind and it’s so !!! How little Sam’s first words are, “I’m glad you’re okay. It didn’t hurt you?” The boys are covered in blood and guts and Dean’s like 👁👄👁 “Why are you here? Did you do this?” And then Sam starts freaking out a little, the shock sets in. “I don’t know. I don’t know, honest.” And he’s staring at his hands, and I am a big fan of Sam showing superhuman signs as a kid. Like in the journal, Ms. Lyle tries to take Sam. She gives Sam the illusion of a choice to come with her or stay with Dean, and Sam chooses Dean. This ep is pretty much when John figures out Sam has demon blood. He kills another hunter that wants to kill Sam.

Crossroad is based on Crossroad Blues, and I love how the crossroads demon shows up. It’s hard to describe, but it’s so neat, like she’s walking underneath Dean in this mirror world, and then the mirror world takes over the regular world, so you really get this sense of otherworldly seclusion, existing outside of time.

What Is and Should Never Be shows Dean is a firefighter in his ‘Mary never died’ world, and Sam got to play soccer growing up like he wanted. The brothers hold each other after Dean is saved from the Djinn.

AHBL part 1. When Azazel shows Sam that he fed Sam his blood, Sam gags and slaps a hand over his mouth, and I like that reaction more than the live action. The psychic kids get to go more anime with their powers, and that’s a lot of fun. They don’t need weapons. Ava slams Sam into the brick side of a building and cuts him without touching him. Jake snaps Ava’s neck with one hand and then catches Sam in his arms. When Jake attacks Sam, there’s no gun or knife. He’s relying on his super strength, his fists. Sam throws his arms up to protect himself, and (accidentally?) pushes Jake back with his mind, and the collision creates a crater in the ground. Jake puts his fist through Sam’s chest to kill him. It’s brutal and it’s rad as fuck. These kids are terrifyingly powerful.

The Sam and Dean reunion before Sam is killed is not as emotional as the live action imo, but what the anime does intrigues me. Hurts in a different way. Because Sam is stunned after he uses telekinesis again, on Jake, and when he hears Dean behind him Sam freezes. He doesn’t look relieved to see Dean, but wary and weary. It’s Dean taking steps towards him, not the other way around, and it has to be because Sam doesn’t know if Dean saw him push Jake back. Sam doesn’t know how Dean’s going to respond to all this, to him, having powers that come from a demon, the demon, Azazel. Sam hasn’t had a chance to process anything. He’s scared. He’s tired. And the way the anime focuses on Sam’s eyes here. Gah. “Dean. Dean, I’m...” I’m sorry. I’m all right. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m a monster. There’s also this one shot between Sam and Azazel that sends me because of how anime it is.

AHBL part 2. I love how Sam brought back to life is animated, with all the color returning to his face and a light wind rustling his hair and his lips parting to indicate his soul returning to his body. Jake attacks Dean, and, a lot like how Sam activates telekinesis to save Dean from Max in Nightmare, Sam gets a burst of superhuman strength. He rips Jake’s arm off and tackles him to the ground and beats him to death, punches holes into his body, and it’s so savage and bloody and scary, and I love it. The Devil’s Gate opening looks so cool animated. Same goes for Dean shooting Azazel with the Colt.

Not to turn this into a meta post, but I also noticed how the last couple times Sam uses his powers they’re colored green-yellow, the same colors as Mary’s ghost when she reveals herself in the anime’s Home, and I don’t know if that’s intentional, but it’s neat how it draws a connection to Sam’s biological family instead of Azazel’s blood.

The Spirit of Vegas is like Bad Day at Black Rock, but Dean has all the bad luck instead, and it shows off the silly cartoony physics that make animation fun. The boys sleep outside and split a chunk of bread for dinner. Also this lil bit of Dean’s hair tied in a bow.

- (STOP) the brothers are pretty. I am not immune to animated Sam and Dean Winchester.

Cons:

- Jensen doesn’t voice Dean until the last 2 episodes

- The English dialogue is really bad sometimes. I wish I could’ve watched the sub, but I couldn’t figure out how to change the language

- Some character designs are really different from the live action, and maybe that’s petty, but if you’re gonna change the characters diversify them? Don’t just make them unrecognizable white people

- Missouri’s design as a stereotypical witch doctor is racist

- Gordon is replaced by some British guy named Jason?? Why

- There’s an LGBT character who is not accepted by her family and, while that bigotry is always shown to be negative and she dies the hero of the episode, she still dies ://

- In the English dub Lily’s gf is made into her roommate instead. Idk about the sub

- Bobby’s pretty much a totally different character

- Sam and Dean are OOC sometimes

- Dean’s hair usually looks darker than Sam’s and it drives me crazy

- The storytelling is, overall, not nearly as good as the live action

- The non-Japanese lore in some episodes makes no sense. Sometimes it’s just plain ridiculous?? Like there’s a giant robot made of cars and scrap metal controlled by a demon? ? I wish I was making this up

- Meg’s role is severely reduced

- No Harvelles or Roadhouse

- Shadows are overused, but maybe that’s because the og show is so dark?

- I don’t mind the art style. I like the aesthetic, but I wish it was a little more expressive. It doesn’t do Sam’s puppy eyes justice.

- AZAZEL’S SHADOW?? PROPORTIONS?? PEA SIZED HEAD

- Idk why they mashed season 1 and 2 together? The story feels rushed

- there’s not as much chemistry between Sam and Dean, but that’s a given without J2 on screen

- Nobody tells you!! That there’s scenes after the credits!! And some of them are important! Why are important scenes after the credits??

The anime would not be good on its own, without the heart and depth the live action brings, but it works as supplementary material you can cherry pick from. I would watch more if there were more episodes.

It hasn’t turned me off from wanting an spn anime. I’d like to see it continued or redone, with updated animation and better scripts. There’s a lot of potential in exploring more about the psychic kids and Sam’s powers, storylines that were cut short in the og show. Animation is a great medium for showing off the supernatural, getting creative and creepier with the designs, dramatic with the fight scenes, without having to worry about bad CGI. I don’t want a live action reboot, but I think a redone animated series could be a lot of fun! (As long as it’s not an excuse to make any romantic ships take over. SPN is a platonic love story, and I like it that way.)

If you made it to the end here and are interested in watching the spn anime, you can watch it for free on the CW Seed app! You can probably stream it elsewhere, but idk where!

[cathrrrine]

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 12 - EYES

tw // guns, swearing

----

"She's a giant threat. She's a liability."

Fury was angry, to say the least. After the fiasco in the interrogation room, they all gathered–once again–in the meeting room.

"Does she know it was me?" Wanda was back to panic mode. This whole thing was a mess. They were making almost zero progress, and it was all just going in circles.

"I don't know. She might." Nick stared straight through her with his one good eye. "She's smart."

"You told her?!" Pietro stood up so fast his chair fell backwards, making a screeching 'clang' noise as it met the ground.

"I did not. I wouldn't. I tried my best to protect you, Wanda. But it seems like I underestimated her intelligence." Fury rubbed a hand over his forehead. "But now she has a penchant for vengeance and if we cut her loose..she'll kill anyone she thinks is a suspect. And that includes everyone of us."

"She's not a bit fan of people knowing her secrets, is she?" Tony snickered.

"No, she's not." He paused for a second before saying, "Either we imprison or eliminate the subject."

Anyone would've missed the slight tremor in Wanda's hands as she tried to keep herself calm. Anyone who wasn't her twin brother, of course. He took one look at her and he knew that she would explode in just a matter of time. He had to get her out of here.

"Natasha." He whispered to the redhead next to him. "I think Wanda and I should leave this meeting. Can we?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow, curious at the sudden question. The twins rarely requested to leave meetings. "What's wrong?"

Pietro leaned in closer. "She doesn't look so good."

Natasha moved her body slightly forward to glance at the young witch, and she immediately understood Pietro's concern. Wanda's eyes we're starting to glow red now. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll manage it."

"Thank you." He flashed her a quick grateful smile before standing up and gesturing for Wanda to follow him.

"This is enough. We can't afford to play cat-and-mouse with her anymore." Steve slammed one hand on the table and pointed his finger at Fury with the other. "We're going in circles!"

"You think I don't know that, Captain?"

Pietro and Wanda hurriedly walked out of the room, the conversation slowly fading to a dull volume as Pietro dragged his sister out. "Why? Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you to your room."

"What? No, let's go back, I need to know what she said to Fury-"

"Wanda. Please?" Pietro was beyond worried for his sister. All their lives, she's always been the more emotional one. Even more so after their powers. It wasn't a bad thing, per se, but it was potentially dangerous. Especially for herself. "We don't need to hear any more of their incessant arguing, anyway. It's just the same point being thrown around."

Wanda sighed, internally cursing his overprotectiveness over her. "I know I was a mess before, but I'm fine now."

"Really? I don't need to be a telepath to know that you're lying."

Pietro was worried something would set her off in the meeting. Wanda wanted to stay and find out what Fury had yelled at Y/N about. There was an argument bound to happen between them, but luckily a certain android decided to walk by.

"Wanda, Pietro. Are you both doing well?" Vision's voice distracted the twins' stare down. As soon as he spoke, Wanda turned to him with a soft smile.

"Vis." She looked pleased to see him. "I'm-"

Pietro cut her off, "Why don't the two of you go to the break room? Make some coffee, raid the fridge. Maybe you could make her a couple sandwiches, eh, Vis?"

"Oh, yes that sounds-"

"Yeah, yeah. You go ahead. Make sure she doesn't go to the meeting room." He whispered the last part to Vision, pushing them both in the direction of the break room before turning to leave. He didn't miss the annoyed look Wanda threw his way. But it was probably the least of Wanda's worries now that she was with Vision. Pietro rolled his eyes at that thought.

He wondered what Y/N said that made Fury so mad. It wasn't uncommon for the man to be angry, but it was unusual for him to be that affected by an interrogatee.

If what Fury said was true–that if she ever made her way out, she'd kill everyone–he'd die trying to protect his sister. Wanda was the priority.

Then he heard gunshots.

"CODE RED!"

Pietro whipped around to see a bunch of S.H.I.E.L.D agents running towards him. The alarm had suddenly blasted, and red lit up the hallway like a crime scene.

He grabbed one agent by the shoulder, "What's going on?"

"We've been infiltrated. It's Hydra!" The agent yelled over the alarms, squirming out of his grip to join the others.

"Hydra?" He whispered to himself in disbelief. How could they have even gotten pass security? What happened?

But there was no time for questions. Pietro knew what he had to do.

So he ran.

He sprinted through the hallways, scanning the place for people he didn't recognise, for people wearing the dreaded emblem on their uniforms.

When he did, he didn't waste any time taking them down. He kicked away their weapons and threw them across the room before shooting at them with their own guns. It was quick–well, he was quick.

There had been six of them or so around him, and he'd taken out every last one.

The hallways were getting harder to manoeuvre through, with the red lights and the smoke filling them. "Smoke-bombs." he concluded.

But he ran anyway, worried for his teammates, for the agents. Looking for more enemies to fight.

Until he saw her.

She was moving in slow-motion, her hair whipping around her blood-splattered face. She was a fearsome thing to behold, indeed.

He felt that pull again.

Pietro lost focus as he wondered why he was so drawn to her, and the next thing he knew, she came bumping head-first into his chest. He immediately slowed to a stop, stretching out his arms to hold her in place.

She shoved a gun towards him, aiming it at his face. "I could pull the trigger right now."

She could. He knew that. But something in her eyes told him otherwise. There was none of that calculated glimmer in her eyes, none of the cocky amusement that twitched every now and then, or the spark of frustrated annoyance that made her look like she was always on the verge of an eye-roll.

No, there was only the familiar fire. But this one was fueled purely by fear and panic.

He knocked the gun down from her hands and took it into his own. There was some sort of defeat that he'd never seen from her before, in the short span of time that he knew her.

A sudden thought jumped into his head; why didn't she fight him back? Wasn't she enhanced like he was?

"Find her!" A voice rang out. The same eyes widened, and he could tell she was trying to weigh her options by the way they darted around the hallway area. What the options were, he didn't have a clue. Though he knew she was panicking, and she was either going to kill him or run away.

He braced for the worst as she opened her mouth to say..."I give up."

"What?" Pietro did not see that coming.

Somehow, the telling look in her eyes told him that this was not a lie. This was pure and raw honesty, something that was rare for her, Pietro sensed.

The next thing he knew, she was pledging her loyalty to him and begging him to take her out of there. So, he wrapped his arm around her waist...and ran.

—

We ran so fast my heart stopped beating. My hair whipped behind me like a cape, and the speedster's arm around me had tightened. It was a familiar sensation, the sprinting. I've ran like this before, when he chased after me at that bar. The night I got caught.

We stopped at what looked like a lobby...at least that's what I could make of it. It was thrashed to hell. Piles of debris everywhere and what looked like furniture thrown across the room. The walls had holes in them, and it wouldn't take a genius to know that they were made out of bullets.

A familiar archer stepped into view, aiming his bow and arrow at me as soon as he saw us. I threw a look at the speedster. "You better tell him I'm on your side now. I'm not really fond of having an arrow aimed at my head."

The archer lowered his weapon. "Wait, what? What do you mean 'on our side'? Pietro, you wanna explain what she just said?"

"Yes, she-"

"Are you crazy?!" He was cut off by Natasha. God. Who else if not her, huh? "Why is she here?"

"Let me explain-"

"The hallways are clear. Tony's working on the security system. The man is pissed. " The Captain jogged into the room, once again cutting Pietro–that's his name!–off. Do none of these people have manners? "Hill just told me that they spotted a jet leaving a few minutes ago. They might have aborted-why is she here?"

"I was about to tell you that!" Pietro raised his voice. It was only then I realised that his arm was still snaked around my waist. Cozily.

I wriggled out of it, with little to no effort. But as soon as I did so, all three Avengers minus Pietro, pointed their weapons at me.

"Don't try anything." Natasha warned. I've had enough of the angst. I'm so tired. So, so tired. The bone-deep fatigue was something I've gotten used to a long time ago, but today was something else. He had been here. I hadn't been ready for that.

"I'm not going to." I muttered, looking right into her eyes. Please believe me.

"She's pledged her loyalty." Pietro finally explained. "To us. To S.H.I.E.L.D."

That only made their grips on their weapons tighter. Annoyed, Natasha huffed, "And you believe her? Pietro, get away from her."

What Pietro said next had surprised me, "Yes, I do. Listen to me, Natasha. She's being honest."

"She's never honest. She's manipulating you." The archer, who I just realised was Clint Barton, cocked his head to the side.

I don't blame them for second-guessing me. They weren't complete idiots. The whole time I've been here, I've done nothing but played games.

But I don't have the energy for that right now.

They all stared me down...except for Pietro. He was looking at me. Actually looking at me. I could almost feel the electric blue piercing at my skin through his gaze.

"I trust her."

He what? I turned to look at him, properly this time. He didn't look like a maniac, no. The man looked perfectly sane. His eyes didn't carry the evil glint that I had grown accustomed to all too well, and it seemed like his mouth was moving of his own accord. He didn't look possessed either.

So, unless a demon took over his body, why did the hell did he say that?

He trusted me? Only a wholesale idiot would say that. Because no one's ever did. Not to me and never about me.

"Move. Away. Pietro." Natasha spat the words out, moving closer to me with her gun up. "How do I know you're not lying?"

I stayed silent. What could I even say to make them believe me? Everything that comes out of my mouth would sound like bullshit to them, anyway.

Natasha was now an arm's length from my face, her gun directly pointed to my forehead.

"Did that have anything to do with you?" Steve Rogers pointed in the general direction of the chaos.

"That was Hydra." I stared at him coldly.

"And you expect me to believe you're not Hydra?" He deadpanned.

My god. Did I really get myself into this shit? I can't believe I allowed this to happen.

But this was it. It was the end of my line. I couldn't run anymore. Not with Hydra hot on my heels. That had been too close a call. The only place I might be safe now is here. If I wanted to live, I had to stick with my word.

Maybe I can run later. Months, years from now. However long it will take.

"Because I'm standing right here, willing to compromise. I'm not moving an inch, am I? I could easily slap that gun out of my face but I haven't done that, have I?" I took a deep breath. "It's taking a lot for me to do this. You'd all know. Because just seconds ago, I was ready to kill you all."

And just seconds ago, he was thisclose to finding me and killing me just the same.

Pietro was looking at me again, with those too-blue eyes that made me want to give him a black eye instead. "You're scared."

The way he said it, it wasn't like he was asking a question, but more of making a statement. I was offended nonetheless, so I gave him the angriest stare I could muster, "I am not."

Natasha narrowed her eyes menacingly, "Then why are you 'pledging your loyalty' to us? Why are you running away from them?"

She continued, "You just gave up your whole personality and motives in the span of–what? Two hours? I'd say fear would be an exact factor of why you're willing to compromise and join S.H.I.E.L.D."

"I'm not scared." I shoved myself closer towards her, earning a fierce glare. "I'm just smart enough to know how to survive and this is exactly how. Its not my favourite option, but its my only option. "

Even as I said the words, I felt myself being taken aback. Everyone shared a look that I couldn't exactly decipher. Did I just fuck things up?

"Fine." I heard the click of the Black Widow's gun as she lowered it to her side. The others instantly followed suit. "You want a chance? We'll give you that. But if you so much as scratch anyone of us, I won't hesitate to rip your throat out and skin you alive."

I snorted, "That's creative. And I wouldn't expect any less, Romanov."

[creepyalienghost]

The “Other” world

Sammy stared out the car window watching the city they use to live slowly disappear. The tall skyscrapers he knew we’re getting smaller and smaller as they grew further and further away. His father had found a new and better job out in the country and Sammy was forced to leave everything he had behind. His Friends. His music teacher. His safety.

Sammy laid his head on the window, peering out, he watched the smaller buildings and older apartments go by. He saw the few poorer people walking to their destinations and he noticed the homeless ones on the sidewalks. It wasn’t long after when he saw the now leaving New York City sign. There were out of his home city. There was were now nothing but trees everywhere you look and gas stations every few miles. Sammy decided to escape this world for a bit and go into one of his books. He pulled out Charlottes web from his bag and starts to read. He loved the family in here. They stuck by and supported each other no matter what. Sammy would have given anything for it. Anything.

His father was the worst of the three. He would often get drunk and beat on his wife or him. His brother was the just like their father, Always drunk and always violent. His mother was different though. Though she never beats him, she never defends him ether. She doesn’t do anything to him. Doesn’t talk, doesn’t feed, doesn’t teach. She completely ignores him.

By late afternoon they arrived to their new house, 3 miles away from the small town. Sammy closed his book and got out of the car, looking around. There new house compared to the one back in the city was huge and a two story house with lots of space in the rooms it seemed. Sammy remembered it actually had like five rooms here so maybe his father would let him have a decent room. The house was on eight acres of land with a barn and a chicken coop in the distance and surrounding the farms was Miles and miles of woods in most directions, only stopping beside the sides of the road leading out.

Sammy gave the others time to explore the house on there own, picking out their rooms first and calling dibs on it. After around then minutes he went and search for the room that was available. One was obviously the parents room. Michael of course took the biggest room. And most of the others were for there crap. They we’re going to turn one room into in office area and last good one another room for his spoiled brother. There was one room left, a vary tiny small one that was covered in dust. It had only a small window to the outside and a closet. He looked around it and noticed it was slightly smaller then his last room.

Sammy sighs and dropped his bag on the floor, claiming it his. Before he made his room he cleaned it first dusting the walls and windows and sweeping the floors. Then went to gather the rest of what he had. He made it work out for him. He placed his mattress next to the window and stacked his books neatly in the corner. Next to them he leaned his guitar and violin on the wall. And hung his clothes in the small closet. He put his lantern and phone on window sell and make his bed. Everything only took him an hour him to do and he could hear the others still working on there’s.

He chose to stay in and read more of his book until his father started to scream at his mother. He hated it when his father got this way and didn’t want to be near him. Lucky for Sammy he now had new things for him to explore like the little town and the woods. He decided to go explore the woods for today. He quickly and quietly snuck out of the house and headed for the first trail he spotted.

The woods were nice. The sun hidden away behind the branches of the tall trees above him, Making things cooler. There were deer around here. He saw some earlier on the path as well as some rabbits and snakes. He went father up and came into a clearing in the woods with a little well there. But that wasn’t what spoked him. It was the doll perched up next to the well that spoked him. The doll looked like him. Just like him.

It’s hair was the same blond as his. The link was short as his was. It’s eyes were the same shade of blue. It’s clothes were even like his, Jeans and a t-shirt. Sammy picked it up and examine it closer. Now he could see the detail of his freckles on his face. It made him shiver a bit. Why would there be a Doll that looked like him here?

A sound of thunder broke his thoughts on it. He looked up and saw a storm was on the way. He would have to explore more another day, now it was time to head in. Sammy turned away from the well and ran home, taking the doll with.

He almost beat the rain but it came down quick and hard. When he got home his father’s truck was gone and Sammy took this chance to get cleaned up for the night. He put the doll on his windowsill then went to take a quick shower. When he was finished he make himself some dinner and went into his new room, closing the door and calling his friends from the city.

———

That night as he was laying in his mattress staring up at ceiling while thinking about the doll. He couldn’t sleep with all the questions floating around in his head about it. Why was it there? why did it look just like him? And what does this mean. He told one of his friends form the city about it and he said it could be a voodoo doll or something good like a good luck charm. Whatever it was it gave him a weird feeling. Not Sammy though. Not anymore. It gave him a warm fuzzy feeling that he never felt.

A tiny squeak next to him caught his attention, braking his thoughts. He turned his head and saw a large fat rat with beady red eyes starting back at him. He wasn’t afraid of it though. He was happy to have a little friend there. “Hello little guy.” He said in a soft voice sitting up. But it made the rat scatter away. Sammy watched it under the light of the moon run away and though a hole in the water. He then noticed that part of the wall was a shade darker then the rest of it.

Sammy got up and flicked on the light to have a look. He went to that part of the wall and had a closer look. It seem to to be a fake wall with only the bottom sticking out. Sammy wondered if he could get it open. He gripped the edge where the hole is and begins pulling. In no time Sammy pulled the fake wall off to reveal a small door. He was really curious now and went to open it only to be locked.

He sighed and sat back to figure out how to open it. Then he remembered the guy that sold them the house gave them an old looking key. He remembered seeing it on there kitchen table in the city house. He bet it was the key for this door. Unfortunately he would have to wait in the morning to take it. Sleep would not come sooner for this excited boy.

—-

Morning came much to slow but it came eventually. Sammy waited in his room for another hour listening to the sounds of his family arguing at breakfast before they finally left the house. This was his chance.

He slipped out of his room and headed for his parents room down the hall. Once there the search began. He looked though boxes and drawers, looked though shelves and suitcases. He searched around everywhere else he could think before giving up and headed for the kitchen. Sammy spotted it immediately after opening one drawer and snatched it before running upstairs to the secret door.

Sammy knelt down to the small door and stuck the old-looking key in, turning it. With a click it opened up a bit. A bright blue glow shinning in leading Sammy to be memorized. He opened the door all the way and his eyes went wide in amazement. There was a tunnel with purple and blue light that seem to draw him in.

Sammy began crawling though it without really knowing. It only took a minute before he got to the door on the other side. He pushed that door opened to his house. But it was different. The world seem brighter and the atmosphere seemed confirming. There was music coming from the kitchen as well as a wonderful sweet smell. When he went in he was vary surprised by what he found.

His family, All of them. But again they were different. His mother was happy making chocolate chip pancakes and humming. His father frying some bacon and his brother settling the table up for the four of them. “M-mom?” He said. They all turned to him with big friendly smiles. Each one looks just like his family with the exception of the eyes. They didn’t have any. Just big black buttons.

Sammy backed away a bit. “Y-your not my family. T-they don’t have those b-b-b”

“Buttons?” The one that looked like his mother finished for him with a giggle. “I’m

Your other mom silly. And this is your other family.” She motions to the other two.

“Other family?” He ask.

The one who looks like his father nodded as he came over and kelt down. “Yes sam. Other family. Now why don’t you go sit at the table. Breakfast is nearly ready.”

Sammy wasn’t to sure of trusting them but his belly said otherwise. He sat down next to Michael just as the other mother came over with a huge stack of pancakes and filled his glass with orange juice. “Enjoy your breakfast Sammy.” She smiled.

Sammy looks down the delicious looking food and cut a small bite. If it was poison it wouldn’t effect him if it was a small bite. But when he ate it the flavor exploded. This was the best thing Sammy had ever tasted. “This is so delicious!” He couldn’t help to say.

“Well I’m glad you like it my dear.” Other mother replied as she and other father sat at the table. All four of them ate at the table together and other mother explain more of what was going on to Sammy. His real family wouldn’t ever have a family meal. There was only fighting and abuse back home with little to no food. Sammy was already starting to love the other world.

By the fifth pancake Sammy was full and leaned back with a burp, causing Michael to crack up next to him. “You done Sam?” Other mother ask. “You and Michael can go play video games if you want.”

Sammy was shocked. His real brother would never let him play video games with him. “Really? Your letting me play your games to?”

“Of course bro.” Other Michael replied. “Your my little brother. Why wouldn’t I?” He ask getting out of the chair. “Let’s go”

With that Sammy got up and followed his other brother into his room as his other parents cleaned the table. Other Michael sat up the game and soon they were enjoying a shooting game together with laughter and challenges for each other. Sammy was enjoying his time for once and was winning the game.

It wasn’t until lunch that it dawn on him that he had been missing from his own world for hours. He didn’t want to leave this world but knew he had to go back so he doesn’t get in trouble with his real father. Other Michael most of seen Sammy sad expression because he ask a question. “Hey. What’s wrong? Arnt you enjoying it here?”

Sammy nodded. “Of course I am! But I have to go back now. And I’m scared i won’t get to come back.

“nonsense.” Other Michael replied. “Where be here when you want to return. Well always be here for you Sammy.”

Sammy smiled and give his other brother a hug. “That’s great to here! I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He got up and told his other parents he would come back tomorrow, before crawling back though the tunnel. Back in his world it seem grayer, more sad. There was no music to greet him. There was no sweet delicious smell of pancakes or bacon and there was no family waiting for him with lunch. Once in the kitchen he notice the new dishes in the sick as he pass by them. They had eaten without him. He signed and quickly made himself a Turkey sandwich before sitting at the empty table. For the first time he was lonely eating by himself there.

——-

Sammy slept all though breakfast this morning. Mainly do to not wanting to be around his father or brother but also because It was raining and Sammy loved hearing the rain taping on the window while he rested. He finally arose around the time for lunch and decided to spend it with his other family.

He crawled though the magical blueish Portal to the other world, this time smelling the scent of chicken pot pie and the sound of jazz playing in the kitchen. He ran there excited to see his other family waiting for him. “Other mom! I’m back!” He called out as he swings open the door.

They all turn to him with loving expressions. “Welcome back Sammy!” Other mother replied giving him a tight hug. “We got a fun day plan for you!”

Sammy wasted no time hugging other mother back and glancing up. “Really?! What are we going to do?” He ask.

Other mother smiled and lead him to the table. “I was thinking we go for some ice cream.” Followed by shopping for some books and Instruments and ended in seeing the Orchestra.” Other mother replied putting a plate in front of him.

Sammy was really excited with the plans for today. “That sounds really great!”

Other mother smiles and ruffled Sammy’s hair. “Alright. Eat up first.”

The day was indeed a great day. At the ice cream shop Sammy had a whole new flavor that never existed in his world. It was the best ice cream he ever had plus here it never melted. When they finished there they went to music store. There were Instruments Sammy never send there but when he tried them he was a pro at it. He had fun trying each of the weird looking Instruments and got one that looked close to a violin. Once at the book store Sammy noticed that it went on for miles and mile. He was amazed at how huge this was. Especially since on the outside it looked like a Normal little shop. He spent hours upon hours looking at the books In the different sections. Some he recognize from his world and some that he didn’t from this one. Each book there was a beautiful non damaged copy and Sammy couldn’t help running his fingers down the spins. He pulled one book out and read the first page and would immediately want to read it then he would do the same to the next one and the next. He only got though one section before other Michael came to get him for the Orchestra. Sammy got to take ten books with him. Not bought. Take. There was no buying in this world other mother had told him.

At the Orchestra Sammy and his other family were the only ones there. But Sammy didn’t really noticed. Especially when it started. The music had drawn him in from the start. It was like magic to his ears. Like hearing something so familiar yet something other worldly. It was all so beautiful to watched and listen to.

The day went by so fast but it was one Sammy would never forget. Sammy was beginning to grow sleepy as they headed home. Other mother noticed and bought Sammy closer. When they we’re home she tucked Sammy in his king size bed and sang to him. The soft lullaby instantly put the tired boy to deep sleep.

——

Sammy woke up the next morning with his door being kicked open by his father. He sat up quickly in fear by his father’s angered expression. “You!!” His father shouted with a point of his fat finger. “Where the fuck were you yesterday!!?”

Sammy tried to think of something to say but he couldn’t nor could he even speak if he wanted to. His voice was gone from the fear he felt. His father didn’t like this and charged at him swinging his first for what felt like hours. Sammy managed to craw under his bed after being hit several times. Eventually his father got bored and stopped out of the room.

Sammy took this time to run. He clawed into the other world and ran right to other mother and wrapped his arms around, barring his face in her shirt.

“Oh Sammy.” She said wrapping him in her arms. “I’m so sorry he hurt you my dear.” She spoke softly. “I’m so very sorry.”

Sammy said nothing. All her could do is sob in his other mothers shirt. He was glad he didn’t have to explain anything to her. He was glad she already knew what had happened. How? He didn’t know but that was a question for another day. For now all he needed was this. A caring loving mother.

Once Sammy was calm, other mother knelt down to his level and clean his sticky cheeks with a warm wag. “I know what will cheer you up.” She smiled. “Go find your other father. He has a surprise for you. I’ll make you some cookies while you there”

Sammy nodded and went to find other father. He found him in the home office but instead of a desk there was a brand new grand piano. “Wow!” Sammy shouted in excitement.

Other father turned around to him. “Neat huh?” He smiled.

Sammy plopped next to him at the piano. “Neat is an understatement! This is...amazing!”

Other father chuckled. “Do you want to play some songs together?”

Sammy nodded. “Heck ya!”

Sammy and other father begins to play the first song together. Sammy at the right playing the high notes. Other father on the left playing the low nights. They played for half an hour before other mother called them for cookies. “Let’s go get some cookie.” Other father suggested.

Sammy nodded and followed him into the kitchen. On the table there was a big stack of cookies on the table with other mother and other Michael waiting at the table. “Come sit Sammy.” Other mother announced. “We have a another surprise.”

Sammy sat beside other mother as other father sat down. “What other surprise?” He ask eaten a cookie.

Other mother placed a big blue present in front of him. A big white bow tied around its lid. Sammy thought it was a gorgeous box. “Go on dear. Open it.” Other mother smiled.

Sammy reached for the bow and untied it, letting the ribbon majestically fell to the floor before he pulled off the lid. He peaked in and was confused. There was two big black buttons in the middle and a needle next to thread. He glanced at other mother with confusion.

Other mother picked a button up and held it out. “You could stay here if you want Sam. But you have to have buttons sewed in your eyes. That’s the only catch.”

Sammy frowns. “I-I what?...” he ask.

“Don’t worry Sammy.” Other father said. “So sharp you can’t feel a thing.” He encourage and other Michael nodded.

Sammy looked down in thought. He didn’t want this but one time of pain for forever of happiness is better then getting abuse by his real family. “...yes.” He answered. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent” other mother replied.

Other Michael came behind Sammy and held him to the chair and other mother began ripping Sammy’s eyes out. He screamed and thresh, cried out in pain as it was happening. The first eye goes after five minutes then the second after ten minutes. The sewing was next and was indeed painful. There was no screaming now. No threshing. No crying. There was pain, lots of it but Sammy could no longer react. He had lost his soul from this. He realized now this was all an illusion. All of it. From the food to the care of the other family. He now sees what she truly is. But it’s far to late for him. He belongs to her now.