#wisp watches dr. stone

[wispisstillverybored67]

Homura means flame, yes? Her name is certainly fitting...

[cartooncadet666]

In the garden, where it was sealed off by the rest of Pac-World and only available to see by those who knew about the area, the scientist flew through the gate where a tombstone covered in flowers and gifts from past soldiers and Freedom Fighters stood still in the ground.

He stared down at the grave, seeing his own name on the very stone, feeling guilty for even working for Betrayus, yet did he have a choice? No he didn't. He was a ghost now, and at this time whenever anyone sees a ghost they immediately assume that they are as evil as that war criminal.

It was 5:00 in the morning, people were still getting up to try and start the day, yet he decided to see if they still kept the same area the same, which they did. Dr. Buttocks hovered down and sat on the ground, finding some newly put cards and toys on his grave, it seemed that despite what he was doing now, people of the Round House and those that fought alongside the Freedom Fighters still paid their respects to him, since he himself never planned to go against his own race.

Meanwhile, a young Pointyhead had just planted his ship near the hidden garden, Axis, one of the youngest ones that participated in the third invasion, and he held the gold traced locket in his hands. He was a nice one, selfless unlike the others, and by curiosity and mainly morals, he decided to try and give back the locket to its owner. So he waddled around the garden, playing a bit in the small stream before spotting the scientist by his grave.

Not meaning to be rude, he quietly made his way towards the grave, accidentally stepping on a twig and causing the noise to make the other slightly turn his head from the sound. Axis breathed in from anxiety and watched the scientist's movements, feeling more off on how calm he was.

"...Hello to you too young man.. Any curiosity being the cause of that?"

Axis froze and winced. "Um.. No sir.. I was hoping to return something to you.. You left it during my kind's invasion..."

Dr. Buttocks stood silent, his hood still covering his back and head, but his medium length hair falling out of the hood anyways. "..Thank you son. Come. Sit with me."

Not wanting to annoy him with his presence, the young Pointyhead obeyed and sat by the ghost, keeping his hands on his lap and looking at the beloved grave. Dr. Buttocks exhaled softly, touching a rose bouquet by its petal and letting the entire thing be engulfed in a calming and soothing wisp, which chirped and went back to dancing in his hand.

"Tell me... Have you ever experienced any kind of depression for great sacrifice?" Axis shook his head in response, watching the wisp dance and chirp happily in his hand.

The ghost brought out his robotic claw and let the wisp give him the energy of the roses. "Have you ever felt weak under someone's control?"

Axis pondered before nodding, listening to the scientist ramble on about more grieving like subjects.

"If you could only know, who I really was, before I arrived in his presence, from out beyond your watch. You would be amazed to find, my old beauty and my worth, what I sacrificed for my own kind, and what I did for their legacy to never burn..."

"Yet... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry... I should have done more before my life had come to an end..."

"My brother had said to me that this pain will all be over soon.. Yet I wonder what they would think... This was our planet after all.. Our lives had a very high grasp of any fate... So I wonder what I could have done to support them more... I still feel that this world should belong to them.. And their hearts of gold.."

Axis just listened, shocked at feeling tears prick his eyes, than realizing that the atmosphere had suddenly turned very sorrowful, a blue radiance fulfilling every part of the garden, so he let his tears fall. He watched as the wisp started to cry as well, yet the ghost wiped the spirit's tears and let it be in the comfort of his presence.

"I'm also... very curious. I must say, I'm impressed by your species' ability to survive in any environment.. including our own.. Its such a strange trait of yours.."

"How else is being as fragile as a Pointyhead as yourself could live? Stronger than a powerful being such as a spirit like the war criminal himself?"

Axis frowned and stared at the ground, letting the tears pour down his face from the atmosphere's change.

"...But I cannot say anything.. Because this is where it happened... Where I was broken... All to support another being in order to protect those I loved..."

"I know how you feel sir..." Axis said, wiping his glossy eyes and giving a sense of positive energy in the gloomy time they were in. The ghost turned to look at him, his presence representing a fragile being who could shatter at any moment, tears were also dripping down his face, along with his hair falling down his shoulder.

"...I am surprised that any of your race is capable of understanding how I feel.. Its a shame..." He floated upwards. "There's a weapon that Lord Betrayus wants me to make that could destroy anything.... From a Pac-Worlder to a Pointyhead... But you don't deserve that pain.. do you?" He had a gentle and loving smile, one that made the young Pointyhead gaze up with more curiosity.

Dr. Buttocks knelt down and lifted his hood slightly, letting his gentle face and the little wisp to gaze down at Axis with a caring look. "You know... I really shouldn't be here.. But Im glad I was able to come back one last time... I can see through all of your struggles and successes, you will be able to heal soon... Just like me.." Axis smiled and handed the ghost his locket, in return, as a blessing, Dr. Buttocks let the wisp he created to be forever his, and forever, and nothing could ever change it, that same day the young Pointyhead was blessed by an Emoti, a misunderstood being that was able to have someone to understand them.

"Thank you Dr. Buttocks. I appreciate that you were able to come here again. You didn't deserve that fate, even this one. I hope you can heal soon sir." The young Pointyhead grinned, the wisp chirping back at the ghost. Dr. Buttocks smiled gently at him, setting his hood back on his head and handling his locket in his flipper like hand.

"Call me Brandi.." Was the last thing the ghost said before floating back to the Nether Realm.

Axis grinned and let the wisp float around his arm, waddling back to his small ship and starting it up. He then lifted the hovercraft off the ground and sped back into the sky, back to his planet and feeling great for returning something to someone and helping them feel comfort again.

(A few hours later...)

The President was leading a man and his sons towards the hidden tombstone, he was thanking him for coming to the Round House, although he was still uneasy for why he wanted to pay his respects to the secret grave so bad.

"I appreciate you arriving here Mr. Loverman, I hope you enjoy your time here at the Veterans memorial, Pac Man and his friends have been working very much for this to be comfortable to all of you." Stratos chuckled to himself, his guards following not too long behind.

"No, thank you for inviting me Mr. President. It's been a while since my ex wife went missing, honestly I'm glad we're able to share the memory with her. Maybe we can give some more knowledge to the young heroes as well." Sebastian Loverman, ex husband yet still a close friend to Aurora Borealis, who was a loyal soldier to the Freedom Fighters and to the nation for many years, yet strangely just like Pac's parents, she disappeared many years ago with bleak tracks, in her and other Pac Veterans honor, they were hosting a celebration to represent all of the support they had to win against Betrayus's forces.

"Oh I'm sure they will be very grateful for that, we all need to pay so many things back to those we lost, but at least we're still standing." The President clasped his hand together and opened the gate to the grave, letting the other man's sons to go inside and then himself while the guards stayed outside.

Sebastian's eldest of the two, a young adult, knelt down and placed a bronze rose creation by a few pictures, smiling to himself after reading the writing on the tombstone. He gazed up at the President with an optimistic yet sad look.

"Do you think he'll ever try to come back to you if he could?" He asked.

Stratos smiled sadly. "He inspired so many things in our team before his death, I am sure that one day he will come back in our embrace Fadil."

The young man nodded and stood up, looking at the youngest and encouraging him to place his gift down on the grave, which the younger one was often glancing at the President uncomfortably before he knelt down and placed a canvas of some sort.

The canvas had a light grayish blue Pac-Worlder who was sitting by a window with a book in hand, his mustache was curling at the ends, his hair was tied back in a low ponytail with strands of hair sticking out over his eyes, he had red glasses, a prosthetic arm, and a pin in his hair. His eyes were closed, he looked peaceful sitting next to the window, like nothing could harm his soul. At the bottom of the well done canvas, there were words that read: "May you follow the path to comfort again, my oldest friend."

Sebastian smiled softly at his son and side hugged him, exiting the grave with his eldest and the President.

However the youngest stood by a little longer, when he looked back at the tombstone he spotted a trinket on top of the stone, it was traced by gold and it had a little note sticking out the bottom. By pure curiosity, he gently picked up the locket and opened the note, reading the following.

"As long as you follow it as well, I shall see you again, keep on smiling my little angel. You know I'll never leave you son, I will always be here, protecting you as my own child, you can promise that." - Your oldest friend

The youngest smiled and opened the locket, revealing the same man in the canvas side hugging his mother and father while past him and his brother stood in the middle together. He then placed the note inside of the trinket and caressed it, the same gentle smile on his face.

"Skeebo! Come on! We gotta meet Sir Cumference!" Hollered out Fadil, who was waiting for his little brother to exit the grave.

The youngest looked back and ran out, keeping the locket close to his heart. "Coming!" The freckled Pac-Worlder sprinted up the stairs to catch up with his family, leaving the garden alone.

Dr. Buttocks peered from behind a tree, and let more wisps inside of the grave, chuckling to himself. As soon as every wisp had energy from the gifts, they spread out and flew out of the garden while the scientist watched as they hovered out. He turned to face the wisp who had the energy of the canvas and whispered to it.

"Make sure you give him the flower little one." He placed a purple lily on the spirit's head, which it chirped and saluted, then flew towards the direction of the teen through the Round House.

The ghost smiled and put his hood back up, covering his face and floating back to his laboratory.

(Yes... Dr. Buttocks was always a good man in this au, in this au, if Dr. B lived, he would have been the one to raise Skeebo, technically he's his godfather, what do you guys think of this new detail?)

[a-crepusculo]

In Your Wilderness (Ethan x MC)

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x Dr. Marchia Bisognin (F!MC) Series: Water Under the Bridge Series | Part 3 Series Premise: Their relationship is put to the test when a new opportunity arises for Marchia. Rating / Category: Teen / Angst, AU Warning(s): Adult language Word Count: 780 words

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2

A/N: No thoughts, just pain lol

As doctors, we must ask ourselves: why prolong the pain?

From the very beginning, our job description are frankly quite simple. Straightforward. We do our best to provide solutions to our patients, discover a cure for them, minimize any damage that arises, and ease one’s suffering.

And that’s what I’m doing right now, isn’t it?

Lessen the unavoidable pain that would cut through both of us—bleed us dry—as our expiration date drew near.

Or, at least, I keep telling myself that fucking lie.

It’s been over three weeks now.

I don’t wake up in the middle of the night with intrusive thoughts of those piercing blue eyes, delicate kisses, heated arguments, and the sheer self-destruction that led me here anymore.

I’m not thinking of Boston at all.

Another obvious lie that I desperately want to be true.

Sure, we had our differences. It was only natural.

Mine, a heart too naive.

And you, too rational, or too wounded, damaged.

Scarred because of your past, and now scarred because of me.

You used to say that with love, there would always be sacrifice. There would always be pain.

What you didn’t say was how long the pain would last.

Maybe if we didn’t bottle up our feelings, we would’ve had a chance. A real chance, to be this normal, functioning couple. Maybe if we didn’t keep pushing each other away, maybe if I didn’t somewhat hide this job as a goddamn secret, then maybe it wouldn’t explode right in front of us.

I was wrong, yes, I was wrong. To leave you, abandon you the way Louise did.

Fuck, I was wrong.

Yet did you even think twice when you left me to the Amazon?

It was an intentional act.

Because I was there, all alone, when you left.

I felt the air leave my body, a vacuum straight from my soul. Watched my lifeless frame being buried, attended my own funeral.

The future—our future—a wisp of smoke, in the blink of an eye.

It was measured, deliberate, because your decisions are always like that. Although you went there to save hundreds—even thousands—of lives from the epidemic, you and your egoistic principles just had to butcher me, destroy me along the way. My hopes, my feelings.

Kill two birds with one stone.

Like I’ve said: smart, calculated movements.

Expect nothing less from the great Ethan Ramsey.

Back then, I wasn’t ready to acknowledge that it had put a strain on our relationship. Gradually drifting us apart.

And I let it hurt myself, much more than I’m willing to admit.

Could you not see it? How could you not see it?

The moment you stepped on that plane and decided to shut me out, it was tangible—like a rope that had

Just,

Been,

Cut.

And perhaps we never came back from that.

Never healed. Never grew out of it. Always returning to this vicious cycle of hurting one another. Pushing one another.

Is this the answer we’re looking for? A new start?

But I never wanted this, never wanted to start over.

What I want is you, Ethan.

I want you to fight for me. I want you to move to the other side of the country with me. I want you to tell me how you feel, use your words. I want you to stay.

That’s rich, isn’t it? Coming from a coward who ran away from her fiancé.

Yet I am a coward who’s not ready to give up.

The voices in my head kept telling me that we are inevitable, destined. Two halves of a whole.

And I believe that.

A tether, an undeniable connection, that I only have with you. I felt it, felt its anchor, inside my chest, right side, third rib down. It is a tangible thing, like a knot bound. When you were away—now that you’re far away—it’s like circulation being cut off, a string wound tighter and tighter and tighter around a finger until the nail turned bright red.

How it throbbed.

Oh, how it throbbed!

Craving for you, aching for you.

Pathetic, or optimistic? You choose.

Because I’d break my heart again, a thousand times, for you.

And once again, I’m counting on hope, running on hope. To bring you back to me, to lead me back to you.

Hope, a powerful fuel that burns inside me.

A poison, yet an antidote.

What will it be this time around?

Hope, because I don’t want to give up—I’m not giving up on you. Never.

And yet my question for you remains the same: are you giving up on me, sayang?

Additional A/N: I have to say that I was super nervous about writing this in first-person POV. Very new, not my forte. But I’m hoping it’s still somewhat enjoyable! 😬

I'll be tagging in a separate list!

[imhereforbvcky]

Watch Me Run - Part 17

Masterlist  -  Series Masterpage  -  Part 18

Summary: You inherit a family relic that gives you the gift of foresight but there are others who are interested for more nefarious reasons. You turn to the Avengers for help. (Bucky x reader)

Chapter: You finally make contact with the Avengers again but everything is not as it seems. Or rather everyone.

Word Count: 1928

A/N: the next 2 chapters are more “Move the damn plot, Mee!” than “yes, brain! Deliver some flowing, symbolic prose!” I’m not thrilled about it either, but here we are.

The village was small. Hearty in the way towns are that have crawled out of the wilderness, just barely keeping the wild at bay. It was rugged and worn, and if you’d been there by yourself, you’d have passed right through without marking it.

Bucky pulled the creaking truck beside one of the larger single-story buildings. You’d have guessed the shutters hadn’t been painted since they were installed sometime in the late 1960s. The windows were probably last cleaned around the same time. The concrete wouldn’t need painting. No, eventually it would crumble into the dust whence it came.

For now, the entire side of the building had taken on a soft brown patina; decades of road dust streaked grey with the steady drip of melting snow and ice. Most couldn’t have picked it out of a line-up from the other buildings. Nothing distinguished this one as a government building except the sign in the filthy window of the door advertising its hours of operation. You doubted very much if their adherence was strictly enforced.

“Only library with wifi for the next hundred miles,” Bucky had told you as he gassed up the truck for the drive. You’d yawned and handed him a coffee in a white styrofoam cup. The liquid was black and cloudy as the sky overhead. Even the 3 creams you’d dumped into yours had done little to brighten the stale, hefty brew.

The library door groaned when Bucky drew it open for you. Not the gentle squeak of a place welcoming a new guest. No, this was the deep angry howl of a door stubborn and calloused in its disuse. The woman scowling at you from behind the counter stood as the physical embodiment of the very sound. Grey wisps of hair tumbled out of a hastily tied knot, a worn and grease-stained flannel hung on heavy shoulders over top of a fading wool knit. The collar had begun to fray long ago, as had this woman’s patience.

“Hi.” You offered as pleasant a smile as you could find, a customer service smile, though you were the customer.

The frown didn’t budge one millimeter. Her eyes though, turned to Bucky when he stomped heavy boots on the rug at the door. Muddy slush from the day-old snow dropped off his boots in clumps.

“Please wipe your boots outside,” she scolded.

“The snow’s right up to the door—“

Her head snapped and her eyes burned with the sort of anger only a stern teacher could conjure.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded before cracking the door just enough to knock his boots on the brick wall.

“Do you need somethin’?” she asked you. Not, ‘Can I help you?’ Not, ‘Are you looking for something in particular?’ Not even a, ‘Are you lost?’ This was a terse, ‘Honey, I know you’re lost and I know trouble. I want nothin’ to do with either.’

“Yes,” you jumped forward, matching her eagerness to rush you out. “I’m um… I’m not from here and—“

“Well I can see that.”

Bucky stepped in then, a scowl as deep as her own. He turned it down on you though. If you could kick yourself, you would. One of his rules of being on the run – don’t give away unnecessary information. Not who you are, where you’re going, who’s coming for you, not even what you need. Be nondescript. This was a difficult rule to follow when you were a nervous talker, when your sympathy scale was off the charts and the best way you knew to communicate was to connect in a personal way.

“We need to use your computer,” Bucky said simply. “You have internet here?”

She pointed to a back corner of the building. “Yeah. We even have indoor plumbing,” she grumbled.

“Well, she hates us,” you fidgeted, leaning close to whisper at Bucky’s shoulder as he led the way toward the computers. “You remember people you hate. She’s going to report us or something.”

Bucky chuckled as he looked back at you. “To who?”

“I don’t know… a Mountie? Loki could be anywhere right? Anyone?”

“Loki is from another planet. He’s not Interpol. There’s no hotline running for us. Far as she knows we’re a couple on a fishing trip.”

“Really? You don’t think she’ll remember us?”

He shrugged, pulling a chair over beside the one he took in front of the computer. “She wouldn’t have remembered some idiot who forgot to wipe his boots. Probably gonna remember ‘I’m not from here, please like me,’” he teased, donning a high squeak of a voice.

You smacked his arm with the back of your hand. “That’s not what I sound like.” A glance over your shoulder at the woman unfurling a cough drop at the desk. “She just looks so unhappy. How many  people smile at her in a day, you think?”

“Not enough,” Bucky agreed. Grim places made for grim people. Harsh living and meager needs made even the softest people harden at the edges. Necessity, he called it. Survival.

“See. I might be the weirdo that cowered at the library door, but she’ll have a story to tell her partner when she gets home. Bet she’ll laugh about it.”

Bucky chuckled, sparing a glance over to you as he booted up the software. The computer was ancient and it made a dissatisfied grinding noise at the request.

“You laughed at least,” she nudged his shoulder with her own.

“That wasn’t a laugh,” he argued, failing to stifle a grin. “That was a… a snort at best.”

“Oh come on. There was at least a chortle.”

“A what?”

“A chortle! Look it up, we’re in a library. Ma’am!” you hollered, turning over your shoulder and waving.

“Knock it off!” Bucky laughed, reaching for your arm and pinning it to your side.

“Ma’am, could you point my friend here toward the dictionaries, he needs to look up a word—Umpfh!”

He’d clapped a hand over your mouth, the other still firmly wrapped around your arm, enveloping you thoroughly.

“No, we’re fine with the computer. Internet, so helpful,” he hollered, over your muffled chuckle.

The soft tickle of breath on his hand, the gentle shake of your laughing shoulders set off that warm, brightness in his chest. He was smiling down at you as he let go.

“Well I definitely got a smile, at least,” you nudged when he did lift his hand away. “You don’t smile enough either.”

“I smile.” His brow crinkled, like he wanted to scowl, but then… he would be proving your point. So he kept a half a smirk on his lips.

“Well, yeah, everybody smiles sometimes. But you rarely,  and you never laugh—“

“I do too. I laughed yesterday when you fell on the stairs.”

“That was rude. You didn’t warn me they ice up like that.”

“It was funny,” he shrugged. “You looked like a cartoon. You should’ve seen your face.”

“You should see your face, Sir Scowls-A-Lot.”

“Scowl?” His eyes went wide and the smile threatened to erupt into an astonished laugh.

“Yes. You have the worst case of RBF I’ve ever seen.”

“What the hell is RBF…?” he wondered. But by now you were talking over each other, arguing and laughing all at once.

“People say, ‘If looks could kill…’ but, really. When you’re grumpy it’s like… if looks could kill, gimme Captain America’s shield because, nothing could stop those silver bullets.”

“It’s not that bad,” he rolled his eyes, typing away on the keyboard.

“It is. I mean, it’s fine, it’s a good looking face, so it works. But it’s a definite scowl.”

“A good looking face?” His entire visage lit into a grin now. His grey eyes were sharp and glittering like the cat that got the canary.

You were suddenly, glaringly aware that you’d been carrying on about all the little looks you’d noticed about your indefinite bodyguard all while you were still pressed tight against him from shoulder to hip. Heat flooded your cheeks and nose and throat at a record pace as you scrambled for a proverbial ripcord.

“Oh, you know you’re handsome.” When had denial ever worked for anyone? Misdirection, was clearly the way out. “Don’t act like I’m the first person to tell you that.”

He was still as marble for a long moment while you picked at your nails. The grin had dimmed a little, no longer a beaming mischievous thing, it had settled to a gentle warmth. He was Bucky again, the one who carefully assuaged your fears, who listened, who made eggs when hot pockets wouldn’t do.

“No,” he agreed finally and you looked up at the sweet softness of his tone. “First time in a long time it’s mattered to me, though. For some damn reason… I care what you think.”

“Hello?? Is this thing even working??” Tony’s voice thrummed angrily through the computer’s speakers. “Barnes, can you hear me?”

Bucky took a sharp breath, deep into his lungs, breathing in the last of the stillness between you and taking it with him when he turned to the monitor. “Yeah,” he said and then he was talking to Tony. Something about a Doctor and the big bang and some powerful stones. But you couldn’t take your eyes off of Bucky.

Tony was irritable. Fuming, actually. The “doot-doot blub-blub-ting doot-doot” of the videocall ringtone repeated again, fueling the inferno. Waiting on technology was not something he was accustomed to. Waiting for inelegant, vulnerable technology that was too old to exist to project an image of the inside of his offices out into the world, well that would have been an a resolute No before today. But his teammates are nothing if not stubborn. Barnes most of all.

“Finally!” he sighed, leaning forward and peering at the image. “Why is it so grainy. I can’t… That’s a terrible picture.”

“It’s good enough,” Dr. Strange deadpanned beside him.

“No that can’t be it. Connection’s bad or something. They can’t even hear us talking!” He began waving haphazardly at the screen, hoping to catch the eye of the soldier or the stone-keeper.

That’s when he noticed what was actually on the screen. Bucky’s arm around you, tightly. A laugh. The goddamn Winter Soldier, your guardian for this mission, looking down at you as though he…

“Holy shit,” Tony mumbled, leaning closer. “Are you seeing this?”

“Yeah, you have to allow the app to access your microphone,” Strange rolled his eyes, entirely missing the point.

“Hey, Rogers?” Tony called just as Steve strode into the room, slightly out of breath. “I think your bestie has compromised the mission.”

His eyes were glued to the screen as Steve leaned his shoulder with a hand on the desk to get a closer look.

“Indeed,” he hummed through a grin as he watched the screen.

“What?” Tony frowned up at him.

Steve shook his head minutely. “Bucky’s fine. He’s only ever failed one mission. And I’m not this mission.”

Tony’s frown never lifted as his eyes darted over Steve. Doubt clouded them for but a moment. He hammered a quick line of code into the digital projection of a keyboard and swiped the screen away.

“Hello?? Is this thing even working??” Tony asked after patching the room’s audio systems through to the rudimentary video conferencing software. “Barnes, can you hear me?”

Not a second later, Steve – or rather Loki projecting himself as Steve – noticed a slight shift in the cameras in the room. One after another, they made slow sweeping turns until he stood squarely within each and every frame.

Part 18 >>

[fullmarvelheart]

Wakanda

Pairing: Avengers x Enhanced!OFC

Word Count: 3,000

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of past trama

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 5 of Blue Starlight. I hope you all enjoy the story as well as the way I wrote the characters! The gif is not my own. All rights to the original creator. I hope you guys enjoy!

Series Masterlist

The plane lands and I'm almost blinded by the bright sunlight that reflects in off the tarmac as the ramp is lowered down.

Waiting for us is whom I'm assuming is the King, based on what Cap briefed us over, along with his personal guards. When Cap told us about the Dora Milaje, to say I was impressed is a gross understatement. I knew they were the fiercest warriors in Wakanda but seeing them up close, they're almost as intimidating as Natasha is. Even the Kingsguard looks exceptionally deadly.

"Should we bow?" Banner asks Rhodey as they exit the jet before me.

"Yeah, he's a king." Rhodey responds in an almost serious tone. Which apparently Banner doesn't catch onto.

As the Captain greets King T'Challa, Banner clears his throat and starts to bow.

"What are you doing?" Rhodey questions loudly enough to catch the King's attention.

"Uh, we- we don't do that here." The King says, somewhat awkwardly.

I chuckle to myself as the group begins to walk.

"So how big of an assault should we expect?" I go to answer the king but am cut off.

"Uh sir-sir, I think you should expect quite a big assault." Banner says pushing his way to the front while I roll my eyes.

Shut up. You don't even have the slightest idea.

"Thanos will most likely send one of his support ships, like the one that was in New York not too long ago. He calls them Q-Ships. He won't send his full army here, just what is deemed to be enough to overwhelm the forces on Earth, so the stone can be retrieved." I explain loudly but lower my voice as I get closer to the King, who looks at me curiously.

"How are we looking?" Natasha asks softly, diverting attention away from me, thankfully.

"You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and..."

"A semi-stable 100-year-old man." A new voice says walking up to us.

I take in a sharp breath and freeze. The Winter Soldier. Please don't let him still be with HYDRA! That's not something else I want to deal with today. But, he's smiling and doesn't look anything like the last time I saw him. He's not glaring at anything and he has plenty of emotions that I notice, just with one glance. He outwardly looks happy, healthy, but I can see pain and guilt still present in his steel blue eyes.

I can see it because I recognize it in myself.

As both Cap and him share a friendly embrace, I see Sam move into my periphery, though I don't acknowledge him.

"Are you alright?" He asks in a whisper.

I blink out of my frozen state and give him a tight smile and nod. As I'm turning back around, I see Natasha give me a curious look before turning back towards the Captain.

"How you been Buck?"

"Uh, not bad, for the end of the world." He says solemnly, yet with a small smile

I swear, this is the most I've ever heard him speak in one go. His voice isn't raspy from misuse anymore either. Maybe he's-

As if he can feel my eyes burning holes into the side of his head, he turns to face me. His eyes widen in recognition as his face changes from shock, to confusion, to anger, to regret, and then suspicion, all within a second.

"It's good to see you again, Blue." He says skeptically.

"You too, Soldier." I say in the same tone, brushing my fingertips over the hilt of a dagger on my thigh.

He glances down, catching my movements which freeze immediately.

"You remember...?" I ask softly, not knowing if I need the confirmation for his sake,... or mine.

"I remember everything." His piercing gaze moves back to me, his features stiff and cautious, waiting for me to make a move.

"Blue?" Natasha inquires, trying to lessen the tension.

"My ability..." My explanation comes out more timid than I would like as I move my hand away from the blade and give her a shrug.

Come on! Surely he's not more terrifying than Thanos! At least this one I know I can stop.

"There won't be any problems, right?" Cap asks seriously, after clearing his throat.

The Winter Soldier, or Buck I guess, says no. I can only shake my head.

"Good. Coms on and Rhodey, suit up. Saddie, I want you out here while we go in with Vision, incase anything happens." I nod in understanding as he, Natasha, and Dr. Banner follow the King and his men inside where Wanda and Vision had disappeared earlier.

I watch them trek inside while a knot forms in my stomach.

"You're nervous."

"Huh?" I turn to find Buck staring at me curiously.

"You used to make that face whenever the men were in the room. Whenever he was in the room." He explains.

I sigh and wrap my arms around my stomach while letting my head hang over.

"Can you blame me? This whole situation is something I was hoping to avoid. Plus, I wasn't exactly expecting to see you and when I did... I didn't know what would happen, or what to expect." I keep my gaze fixated on the pavement below me as I hear him take in a deep breath. Though, I know he was thinking the same thing as I was. "But I'm terrified. Like I was then." I admit with a whisper, looking up at him.

He hums, walking closer to me.

"What should I call you?" I ask suddenly causing him to snap his eyes to mine and stop.

He hesitates looking at the ground before back at me.

"Bucky please, Saddie." He says teasingly.

I roll my eyes but crack a small smile. So Buck is a nickname then. Didn't know he knew the Captain that way...

"Your arm is different." I note as I look at the black metal appendage edged with gold markings. Much different from the previous silver one with the infamous red star.

He hums thoughtfully, looking down at it with a small nervous smile.

"I like it, it suits you." I tell him sincerely as I turn away from him, not waiting for his reaction.

I walk over to Sam and begin to talk to him while Bucky joins us with a rifle one of the Kingsguard gave to him. Rhodey appears in his armor and things begin to click in my head as I remember Sam and Rhodey's hero names. Falcon and War Machine. Definitely not who I'd expect to be next to at a time like this.

At one point, I decide to sit crisscross on the tarmac with my fingertips pressed into the pavement and my eyes closed. It's almost like I'm in a meditative state. I feel the energy running through this city, running under it. There's an endless supply far below me, that I manage to tap into.

It's immensely powerful!

"What ya doing there, Saddie?" Sam calls out. I realize there's probably blue wisps circling around my hands or even arms.

"Recharging and resting." I say, distantly.

"Meditating." Bucky answers at the same time, causing me to huff and send him, where I think he is, a playful glare.

"Are you already tired, kid?" Rhodey jabs humorously through the ear piece.

"I'm a creature that relies on energy for power. If my stored supply runs out and I can't tap into a source fast enough, I have to rely on the power my body holds. Meaning, I'd lose consciousness soon after I'd start pulling from my own life-force. Thanos has an army coming for Earth, and I want as much power as I can hold." I tell them, still in my meditative state. "Plus, relaxing like this allows me to extend my powers beyond Earth."

"Creature?" Sam mumbles in question to himself.

"What does that mean?" Bucky asks curiously in reference to my abilities while talking over Sam. He still doesn't know the full extent.

"It means that I can sense when they arrive." I tell them, ignoring Sam's notice of my slip. Though, with that and what I said in the aircraft, he should be piecing it together soon, if he allows his mind to focus on it.

They don't ask anymore questions after that, and leave me to myself. After what feels like several minutes later, I feel a very strong hum of power moving towards Earth, and quickly. I call my power back to me and absorb as much of the energy as I can from below me, I can see the bright blue growing brighter from behind my eyelids.

"Saddie?" Bucky sounds worried.

My eyes shoot open as I jump to my feet, looking towards the sky.

"Saddie!" Sam calls, trying to get my attention.

"They're here." I say fearfully, not moving my eyes.

I summon an energy ball as I see one of their ships quickly descending straight for us.

"Hey, Cap, we got a situation here." Sam says while looking to where I am.

That wasn't enough time to get the stone out safely!

I prepare to launch the ball in my hands when the dropship pings off the shield, exploding instantly. The force of the strike is absorbed back into the shield.

"God, I love this place." Bucky says in stark amusement while I reabsorb the power in my hand.

"Yeah, don't start celebrating yet, guys. We got more incoming outside the dome." Rhodey warns as the rest fall fast, impacting the Earth.

I feel the vibrations from the impact rattling though my bones and my breathing becomes harsher. The shockwaves bounce off the dome, making me feel only the tiniest bit safer.

"Is this what you were expecting?" Sam asks, looking at me.

I nod slowly with wide and fearful eyes, unable to speak. Though, how do you speak when one of your worst nightmares is occurring before your very eyes and is becoming reality?

Alarms blare through the city and the dread I have been feeling for some time now, grows in the pit of my stomach to the point it becomes nauseating. Unfortunately for me, I joined this fight, so I can't back out now. I swallow back whatever fear I can and focus on the chaos around me.

After several minutes, the Captain, Natasha, Dr. Banner, King T'Challa, and his warriors come running out of where they led Vision and Wanda. Dr. Banner goes straight to where a big red and gold suit had been laid out as warriors rush out to the tarmac.

"You two," Nat gestures to me and Bucky. "Come with me."

We chase after her into a transport ship that is filling up with other warriors of the Kingsguard. I see Cap and T'Challa board theirs with half of the Dora Milaje. When we get in, Natasha stands up front with Bucky right behind her, and me on his right, like it used to be. As much as I hate the memories, the familiarity of a fight and his presence is comforting.

Sam and Rhodey take off and fly above us as we all head towards the front line while we begin to merge with other ships on the way.

"How we looking, Bruce?" Natasha asks through the coms.

"Yeah, I think I'm getting the hang of it." I hear what sounds like rockets through my ear piece and cringe at the loudness "Wow! This is amazing man. It's like being the Hulk without actually..." His loud enthusiastic voice is cut short as I hear him fall.

I try to stop myself from giggling at him but can't help but slightly laugh out loud when I hear Bucky's chuckles beside me.

"I'm ok, I'm ok." I hear, but before I smile again, I actually notice just how many of the dropships there are... and just how big they look from here. I've never seen them in person, just heard stories.

My stomach lurches at the sight. There will be so many. Can we even win this?

"I've got two heat signatures breaking through the tree line." Rhodey calls out.

I move forward slightly, in hopes of recognizing which two of the puppets Thanos sent here. Bucky gently grabs my arm, snapping me out of my head, and gives me a questioning look. I move back to his side but keep my eyes set on the edge of the dome in front of me, not looking at Bucky. I'm not sure if I'd be able to hide my fear if I do. Rhodey and Sam do a fly over as they begin to circle back around.

The Captain, King T'Challa, and the Dora Milaje pile out of a transport. My transport group follows and Natasha, Bucky, and I merge with them. One of the legions begins to chant as we move forward. Though I can't distinguish the words over the sound of my blood pumping in my ears. Natasha comes up next to me and gives me a small assuring smile. I try my best to do the same, though I'm sure it's more of a grimace. We form a line and I finally spot the two of the Black Order that Thanos sent. I scowl and clench my fists at the sight and memory of those two.

"Do you think there's any chance of surrender?" Natasha muses.

"No, it's not the way of the Black Order." I say with a slight growl.

"Well, there's always a chance." Captain says, but it's not reassuring.

He looks at me and motions for me to follow as him, Natasha, and King T'Challa start to walk in the direction of the dome's edge. I swallow the lump in my throat and proceed to fall into line with them.

Cull Obsidian and Proxima Midnight become clearer the closer we move to them, and I try to push back my fear again. While Cull stands several feet tall than the other, with a much broader stance and deadlier appearing body and weapon, it's Proxima I fear the most. This sight of the midnight blue and black hair, brown horns, black and blue war paint, and lifeless grey eyes that make me tremble slightly. Proxima drags her sword along the dome's edge, almost hypnotized by it, watching the power crackle along her blade. She finally stops when we're at the edge, only separated by the dome.

Cull and Proxima snarl once they set their eyes on me and my lip twitches up in annoyance.

"Where's your other friend?" Natasha quips, and I have no idea which other one she's referring to.

"You will pay for his life with yours." Proxima says in the most emotionless tone I've heard her use. Her mechanical voice sends an unpleasant shiver down my spine. "Thanos will have that stone." She moves closer, as to intimidate. But so do I.

"That's not going to happen." Captain says, seemingly unbothered but determined.

"I will make sure of it." I growl.

Proxima directs her gaze to me.

"The traitor... or at least, one of them." She muses, a gleam flashes in those deadly eyes as she smirks at me. "You are nothing without your other half. A child in regards to your abilities. Weak." I know she's trying to get a rise out of me, I know it, but it's working.

Her words stroke the grief and self-doubt I had buried for this fight, making it rear it's ugly head. Before I get the chance to even move, King T'Challa speaks as Natasha moves me back.

"You are in Wakanda now. Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood." I look at the King with wide eyes, knowing he doesn't realize just who the Mad Titan is.

"We have blood to spare." Proxima states before striking her sword up into the air.

I scowl at her, but that falls into a frown when the drop ships begin to whirl and extend. We quickly make our way back to the frontlines.

"Are you ok?" Natasha asks as me move back towards the group.

"No, not really. But I'll be able to fight." I tell her, gathering what courage I can. She gives me a hesitant nod, but says nothing else. "I really hate her." I grumble, which earns me a small chuckle from Nat

I try to clear my mind and focus on my powers on the rest of the way back. I focus on what I feel, where it is, and how I can use that to my advantage, like I was taught. We get back to our forces as Bucky looks on edge but doesn't look away from the ships.

"They surrender?" He asks sardonically, knowing the answer.

"Not exactly." Captain breathes as I move to Natasha's side.

I feel the ship release the army that lurches inside.

"Here we go." I nervously breathe.

Falcon flies along the edge, circling as a scout, but I can already feel the pounding of their sharp and deadly paws vibrating against the ground. As they get closer, the thunderous pounding reaches my ears over the sound of my own heartbeat. I absorb the little bits of kinetic energy from them as they run. I feel Natasha's stare on my loose fingers which begin to glow a slight blue.

King T'Challa begins a battle chant as I feel the army slow at the edge of the tree line. Proxima strikes her sword down, letting it fall out of the air, and the army begins their charge forwards. There's more of them, more than I imagined. And they spill out of the tree line like a tidal wave of death, charging towards the dome.

[erictmason]

“BOUND FOR FREEDOM, YEAR TWO, DAY SIX: “HURT”

“Shake Like The Bough Of A Willow Tree”

“You should deactivate me.  Immediately.”

The memory of those words rang strongly through Sonic’s mind as he walked through the streets of New Mobotropolis.  They weighed his steps, keeping him from the brisk pace he usually enjoyed.  

“I appreciate everything you’ve done to...to save me, but...you heard Rotor.  I can’t be saved.  This...this is what I am now.”

He looked to the soft glow of the moon in the sky, and it reminded him of those eyes.  Sally’s eyes, unmistakable even when locked within a shell of glass and lights.  Looking more full of...despair...then he could ever remember having seen in them before.  

“There is no telling when I might...lose control again.  We need to neutralize that threat now, before it...before I...can hurt anyone else ever again.”

The hedgehog’s quills bristled as the hospital came into view.  It had been a few days now since those terrible words had been spoken...since he and Sally had seen each other.  “I think right now, a bit of space is for the best,” Dr. Quack had said, and though patience was the farthest thing from Sonic’s strong suit, he cared deeply enough about Sally’s well being to obey for as long as he could.  But in all that time, Sally’s words had continued to play and replay in his mind.

He had to do something.

So he’d talked to Quack, convinced him to give him this time...this chance.  And as he entered the hospital, walked down its halls, and opened that door, he resolved to do whatever he could to make that chance count.  “Hey, Sal.”

The robotic squirrel sat in the corner of the room, legs bent in front of her chest and arms folded across her knees, head bent low.  For a moment, she remained that way, perfectly still...but eventually, she lifted her gaze to meet Sonic’s.  When she said nothing, the hedgehog continued to speak, walking toward her.  “I was thinkin’, if you weren’t doin’ anything else...” He reached a hand gently out to her.  “Would you wanna take a li’l walk outside with me?”

Sally continued to stare at him in silence, but he did not move his hand.  “I got Quack’s OK for it,” he said to her, then, more softly, “and I promise, first sign of any kind of trouble, I’ll zip you right back here.  ‘Hog’s honor.”

They stayed like that for a few moments.  And then, slowly, surely, Sally placed her hand in his.

Soon, they were back outside, walking together wordlessly, aimlessly.  Every so often, they would look at each other, Sonic would smile, Sally’s eyes would flicker, and then it would be over.  Eventually, they found themselves on the outskirts of the city.  “’S a really nice night out,” Sonic said.

At first, Sally said nothing, but as her eyes slowly scanned across the stars, she spoke softly, “...yes...it is.”

That got Sonic’s attention, his ears perking just a touch.  “Wanna make the most of it?” he asked, turning to look at her more fully.  The robotic squirrel tilted her head uncertainly.  “I know you’ve been through...are going through...a lot,” Sonic added, stepping toward her again; when she did not try to stop him or show any sign of discomfort, he closed the gap between them completely, hands slipping carefully along her waist.  “But I’m still right here, Sal.  Always ‘n’ always.”  He pressed his head to hers...and he couldn’t keep a smile off his face as he felt her press back.  “So follow my lead, OK?”

She nodded, and without another word Sonic had zipped away.  He waved to her from the several feet of distance he’d immediately put between them.  “Whaddya say, Sal?” he called out.  “Wanna keep up our stroll?”

At first, Sally hesitated.  Her hands tightened, and she stepped back, eyes drifting to her own feet.  “That’s OK too, Sal,” he said.  “It’s like I promised: you feel like goin’ back, we go back.”  She looked over to him.  “D’you feel like goin’ back?”

The princess seemed to consider it.  But then, just a few seconds later, her hands opened up and her posture straightened.  And then, with clunky but committed steps, she raced toward Sonic.  He nodded eagerly, and darted off again; it was far from his max speed, but it set a strong pace.  Sally continued to follow.  “Where are we going...?” she asked as she strove to keep up.  

“Guess we’ll both find that out,” Sonic replied, “together.”

He began to go faster.  She did her best to match him.  The city fell further and further behind them, the sky opening up wider and wider.  She began to gain ground on the hedgehog, her steps growing stronger and steadier with each stride.  “Lookin’ good, Sal!” Sonic said brightly.  “It’s pretty fun, right?  Movin’ like this?”

As they came to a towering mountain range, the hedgehog’s more familiar speed truly began to settle in, carrying him up the stone with ease.  Even still, Sally remained right next to him, her eyes locked to his the whole way until they reached a plateau near the peak where Sonic finally skidded to a stop, and the robotic squirrel did the same.  “...wait...how...?” she whispered, blinking a bit she looked all the way back down...and saw a trail of smoke beginning to wisp away.  

Sally gasped, snapping her head down as she realized it was coming from the rocket boosters embedded into her feet.  But even as she trembled, Sonic’s hands were on her shoulders, gently pulling her toward him.  “It’s OK,” he whispered soothingly.  “Sal, look at me.”  She shook her head.  “Please, Sal.  I’m still right here, we’re still OK.  Just...look at me, please.”

It was a plea, but not a desperate one, and in spite of herself Sally slowly did as he asked, finding his green eyes looking at her, filled with starlight and warmth.  “We’re just...moving right now,” he said softly.  “That’s all it is.  Just...movement.” He gave her a moment, watched as her trembling slowed.  “”When I’m in that world, just...moving?  Everything just starts to make sense, y’know?  So I wanted to share that with you.  Because I love you.”  Her hands slowly reached up to his own.  “Because I wanted you t’see that this...what happened to you...” He paused, blinking at the wetness in his eyes.  “There are things it can’t take from you.  Not ever.”

The two stood together in the moonlight, holding each other’s gaze and each other’s hands.  And then Sally slid forward, wrapping her hands around Sonic and pulling him close.  She was careful.  So careful.  But she held him even so, and Sonic soon returned the gesture.  They stayed like that for a good, long while, until Sally spoke, slowly, softly, shakily...but clearly.  “...do you want...do you want to move with me...?”

He let out a contented breath.  “Always, Sal.”

They leaned into each other.  And then they began to move into the air.  Higher and higher.  Then faster and faster.  Just like the city, the mountain fell further and further behind them.  And then they began to turn.  Then they bobbed downward, and lifted back upward.  The straight lines became curves and bends leaving lines of light and smoke in their wake.  Sally watched with wide eyes, Sonic smiling and laughing.  Their dance carried them over the mountains, past the tree tops.  “Just feel it, Sal,” Sonic said.  “Don’t think.  Just...feel it.”

The robotic squirrel looked to him cautiously.  He looked back at her with a sincere smile and a trusting gaze. 

And then...she closed her eyes.  

She opened her arms and let him go, rising higher still into the air.  

Felt the motions travel across every bit of steel and circuitry.  Felt them move through her.  

And then she careened back down, and found Sonic’s outstretched hand waiting for hers.

They continued that way for what felt like hours, up, over, around, together, apart, reunited. 

But at long last, eventually, their feet touched down again, now on the roof of the hospital.  Sonic slipped down into a sit, laughing happily.  “You’re quite the dancer, Sal,” he said.

She stood there for a moment.  She looked at him, then looked down at her feet.  And then she too sat down, leaning gently into his shoulder.  “...thank you,” she whispered back.”           

[yespolkadotkitty]

Tinderbox, pt 7

Part VI here

“Sketch is going on tonight’s news.” Rachael put the wrapped roast beef on rye sandwich down on Marshall’s desk. “And the police plaza have a parcel for you. Can you stop by on the way home tonight?”

Marshall glanced at his watch - a traditional-faced timepiece he’d been given by his father. He wasn’t a fan of digital watches or their even newer children, fitbits and the like. “Sure." It would likely be some dry as sawdust paperwork. "Thanks for lunch.” He reached for his wallet, but Rachael waved him off. “You can buy next time.”

She took a seat in his visitor chair - the visitor chairs in the precinct were easily the most uncomfortable pieces of furniture known to man - and unwrapped her own sandwich, the famed New York Chopped Cheese.

The satisfied noise she made biting into it could have conjured sensual images, but Marshall found himself thinking of Rosie.

Fuck. He should've taken his jumper and her phone number, but he had no idea how to find her again, except hanging out by her apartment building, which was way too creepy. Maybe he could put a note in her letterbox. Was that creepy too?

His phone chirped and he pulled it from his pocket.

FAYE: Don't forget mom's dropping me off to your place tonight. Pizza party!

He smiled to himself. His daughter's appetite for pizza was unrivalled.

"Faye?" Rachael asked, smiling.

"Yep. Pizza party at my place tonight." He'd better make sure it smelled halfway decent, and he needed to change the sheets as she'd be bunking in his bed while he had the sofa.

"How is she?"

He lifted a shoulder as he chewed a bite of the sandwich. Rachael's favourite deli made fantastic lunches. "Typical thirteen year old. Thirteen going on thirty. Talking to boys on Snapchat." He shuddered, exacerbating it for effect.

"Not boys!" Rachael said in mock horror.

Marshall glared at her. "Your time will come."

"Not too soon if I can help it." She finished her sandwich, balled up the wrapper with the deli logo printed on it. "I've got a meeting in a few. Have fun with Faye tonight; say hi from me."

"Sure."

He finished his own sandwich, washed it down with a swallow of cold coffee and winced. The glamour of police work.

He texted Faye back:

DAD: Looking forward to it.

*****

He was owed some personal time, so he drove to the Police Plaza after a dry couple of hours of paperwork. The sketch would be airing on local news soon, and hopefully, someone would bite. A lot of catching criminals involved slow, methodical work. Satisfying, sometimes boring. Well, usually boring, actually.

He climbed the steps. Officer Taylor was at the reception desk. He'd spoken to her a few times for one thing or another during his time with NYPD.

"Hey, Marshall." Hardly anyone used his first name anymore. Although since yesterday, he'd found himself wondering how it might sound in Rosie's voice.

"Hi. How's it going?"

Taylor shrugged, smiling tiredly. "Same shit, different day."

They chuckled together.

"I hear you have a parcel for me?"

"Yep." Tucking wisps of her blonde hair back behind an ear, Taylor stood and scanned the cubbyholes below the reception desk. "Here we go. Woman dropped it off early this morning."

His heart thumped. "Can you remember what she looked like?"

Taylor raised a brow. "I might sit behind a desk, but I'm still a cop. Pretty, about my height, wavy brown hair, thick winter coat, sturdy shoes."

Rosie.

He took the bag. Peered inside. His jumper sat neatly folded, something white peeking out of one of the folds. He lifted it out, saw her loopy writing and the deli logo.

Well, shit. How long had he been eating roast beef on rye from the deli she worked at? Even New York was a village, sometimes.

He checked his watch. He had time to stop by the deli and thank her before Faye got dropped off for their pizza party. If he was unlucky, she'd want to give him one of her homemade face masks too. He'd smelled cucumber around his flat for three days after the last time.

"Thanks, Taylor."

"No problem." There was a curious glint in her sharp gaze, but either she knew better than go ask, or she knew that getting information out of Marshall was like getting blood from a stone.

He got back into his police-issued vehicle and drove the few blocks to the deli. Inside was a hub of activity. A dozen tables, most of which were full, held people of all ages and a smorgasbord of sandwiches, soup and hot drinks. The tv was on above the order counter and he recognised the local news anchor. The sketch might be about to air.

Pushing through the doors, welcome warmth hit him, along with the enticing scents of toasted bread and roasted meat.

He spied Rosie almost right away, delivering a pair of club sandwiches to an older couple by the far window. She spoke animatedly to them, and Marshall imagined, fondly, what it might be like to enjoy her brightness every day. It made a pang of longing strike his heart.

She turned towards the order counter.

"Hey Rosie, turn it up, would ya?" One of the customers asked. "It's about that cat burglar."

"I got it," one of the other deli staff replied, fishing a remote from his apron pocket.

Rosie glanced up at the tv, as did everyone else in the building. The sketch played on screen. There were the usual murmurs from some patrons, whereas others ignored the broadcast.

Not Rosie, though. She stared at up the screen, and the round serving tray dropped clean from her hands, smashing an empty glass tumbler on the floor.

Thanking my beauty of a beta, @ly--canthrope​ 

Tagging: @pinkzsugar​ @brokenthelovely​ @mary-ann84​ @leapingoveroblivion​ @from-hel-i-with-love​ @boiled-onionrings​ @dr-kayleigh-dh​

[mordenheim]

Dr. Mordenheim’s Travels, Book 1:  De Writer’s Equestria, Ch. 7

Dr. Victor Mordenheim has traveled to many different realities in his many centuries of existence.  This series, which I shall add to from time to time, will explore some of them, beginning with the world of @ask-de-writer.

=============================================================

Victor sighed softly as he tiredly cleaned the last of his tools and set the gleaming silver instruments in their proper places.  He  brought in his glowing “Ring Bell For Service” sign as he closed for the holiday and looked out towards Ponyville proper.  It was late at night and fluffy snow was falling slowly from the overcast sky.  Through a long break in the clouds the moon and stars could still be seen glistening against the night sky.  He tilted his head a little, cocking an ear as he could still hear peals of laughter and joyful music in the distance.

Closing the door, he trotted back through his clinic, turning off the lights as he went.  He placed a few foal’s books back upon their shelf before opening a side door.  The huge zebra stepped into his small but comfortable living quarters.  He spent a bit of time building a fire in the small fireplace before taking a few moments for a nice, hot shower.  He dried himself thoroughly and slipped into his forest-green robe.

Clean and dry, he trotted over to the refrigerator.  Taking a small wrapped package of leftover steak from Caramel Treat's, he sliced it thin and prepared himself a sandwich along with a snifter of apple brandy.  It had been a gift from the Apple Family for helping Big Macintosh get back on his hooves after spraining his knee during the fall harvest.  Now seemed as good a time as any to have a drink.

He sat in silence, listening to the crackling fire as he finished his meal and the glass of brandy.  It truly was an excellent drink.  He trotted over to the window once more and gazed out at the town.  It was quiet now.  Most of the lights had gone dark except for a few along the main royal roads.  Feeling restless, he draped his dark cloak around his shoulders and put on a green scarf.  He picked up his pipe, filling it with a fine, sweet-smoking weed before lighting it with a punk from the fireplace and trotting out into the snow.

He gazed up at the moon and stars shining overhead, framed by silvery clouds and took a long pull on his old ivory pipe.  He exhaled a plume of smoke that coalesced into what seemed to be a Hearthswarming tree.  Three smaller clouds formed into two ponies, large and small leaning on one another and what looked to be a small colt tumbling excitedly around the tree. He smiled a little wistfully at the scene and began to sing.

“O bonny Portmore, I am sorry to see Such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree For it stood on your shore for many's the long day Till the long boats from Antrim came to float it away.”

He trotted through the image, scattering it into wisps in the wind, heading a little farther down the road before taking another pull on his pipe and exhaling again.  Another Hearthswarming tree, but four figures this time.  A large male with a small, older-seeming female leaning against him and a young, happy couple sitting with them.  They all looked to be speaking excitedly about something, occasionally seeming to laugh at some forgotten joke.

“O bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand And the more I think on you the more I think long If I had you now as I had once before All the lords in Old England would not purchase Portmore.”

He trotted through the smoke once more, smiling a little less than he did before.  He looked tired as he took another pull on the pipe.  Exhaling again, the smoke billowed out into another scene.  There was just a small tree on what looked to be a bedside table this time.  The larger pony sat, unchanged from the first ghostly image, however now there were two older ponies standing off to the side as the larger had his hoof resting upon that of an elderly looking mare in a bed.  His head hung low as he nuzzled her cheek gently.

“All the birds in the forest they bitterly weep Saying, "Where will we shelter or shall we sleep?" For the Oak and the Ash, they are all cutten down And the walls of bonny Portmore are all down to the ground.”

He walked more slowly now, his head hung down as low as the stallion in the smoky image as he walked on through the falling snow, unaware that he was now being watched from the forest nearby.  He took one last pull on his pipe as the red glow from the bowl faded and died, the weed spent.  He exhaled a final plume of smoke revealing the large stallion once more, still unchanged as ever appearing in a field.  Three small stones sat before him as he lie on the ground, hooves covering his face as he wept.  The tall zebra's voice quivered slightly as he sang one final verse.

“O bonny Portmore, you shine where you stand And the more I think on you the more I think long If I had you now as I had once before All the Lords of Old England would not purchase Portmore.”

He sat heavily in the snow, not even feeling the cold as the pipe slipped from his teeth, clattering onto the snowy cobblestone.  He head hung low as cold, stinging tears  slipped from his single eye.  He tried to keep quiet, wrapping his forelegs around his chest to hold in wracking sobs as he heard a soft voice behind him.

“Uh...  uhm...  e-excuse me.  Doctor Mordenheim?  A..  are you alright?”

He blinked, wiping at his eye and turned to see a small yellow pegasus mare with a pink mane dressed in a pale blue coat looking up at him.  “Er..  yes?  May I help you, Miss Fluttershy?”

She trotted a little closer, but he could tell it was taking a bit of effort.  For a moment it seemed she would break and run at any second.  Then she calmed and reached up to place a hoof gently on his shoulder.  “Well.  I couldn't sleep, so I decided to come for a walk.  I couldn't visit with my family this holiday as I just had too many animals to watch over and needed a few moments to clear my head.  Then I heard this beautiful, sad song I had never heard before.”

The zebra blushed a little at that, his white cheeks turning pink in the silvery glow of the moon.  “Yes, it is a song from my homeland, and was one of my wife's favorites.”

She smiled a bit sadly, then nodded.  “I see.  Um..  Would...  you like to join me for a cup of tea.  It's getting colder and well...  Nobody should spend Hearthswarming alone if it can be helped.”

He paused for a moment, about to turn her down.  Then he looked down at this mare, the bearer of the Element of Kindness, saw the determination behind her soft gaze and smiled softly.

“Thank you.  I think that would be lovely.”

The two of them turned and followed the path towards the small bridge that lead to Fluttershy's small shack near the Everfree.

“Happy Hearthswarming, Doctor.”

“Happy Hearthswarming, Fluttershy.”

[vannahfanfics]

Hey!! I saw your post about requests and your playlist... Could you write a Sanji x Nami inspired by the song All the Stars (Kendrick Lamar)? I think it would be beautiful! Thank you!!

Here you are, hun! Again, sorry it took so long, much to do, much to do. I had a lot of fun with this one, too! Thanks for requesting and enjoy~

A Dream of the Stars Upon Earth 

Word Count: 3,545

Fluff, Romance, Love Confessions

Summary: In a winter wonderland like Drum Kingdom, it’s easy to confuse dreams and reality. But this is no dream, but a reality far sweeter than Nami ever could have wished for.

“Ah-choo!”

Nami miserably rubbed the reddening bottom of her runny nose. She then recoiled in disgust as the clear fluid that was leaking from her nostrils smeared across the line of her finger, and with no consideration of tact or propriety, she wiped the disgusting efflux off on the fuzzy fabric of her blanket. She sat up in her bed with a small sigh to look around her cold, chilly bedroom. 

It was the night following their determinant battle with King Wapol and his goons; Nami had still been recovering from her jungle-acquired fever anyway, and Luffy and Sanji had acquired new injuries on top of the ones they had been healing from already. The resident doctor-slash-reindeer, Tony Tony Chopper, had also fought valiantly for his home and had not escaped unscathed. As such, they were all under the care of Dr. Kureha in the abandoned Drum Castle.

The aforementioned boys were sleeping across the room, all three of them a disorganized mess of limb and blanket. Despite Nami’s reservations about sharing a room with them, for she was a lady and it was quite inappropriate, Luffy and Sanji had apparently been so unabashedly adamant that the irritable doctor had relented to spare herself their incessant wheedling. Chopper, who had formed quite an attachment to the Straw Hat captain, now refused to be separated from him, and so had also made arrangements to cram in the already crammed makeshift hospital wing. Nami watched them through lidded eyes, her nut-brown irises following the rhythmic rise and fall of their chests; it seemed her sneeze had not awoken them. Good. 

Nami was no longer in the thrall of her illness, but her cold-like symptoms persisted largely because of the castle’s poor insulation. Small wonder, with it being perched atop the icy peak in an already icy country. Wind slithered through the cracks in the seams between the worn gray bricks, creeping across the stone floors before jumping up to swirl around Nami in her bed. As the wisps of air danced over her skin, they left goose-pimples in their wake and stole the heat from her body. Then, like the phantoms they were, they swirled away into the night. Even as she drew the thick comforter around her, Nami shuddered under the combined assault of the playful chill and the lingering low-grade fever.

She cast her gaze to the window to find that it was still nighttime; through the frosty, fern-like patterns of ice within the glass pane, she could see the black canvas of the sky with faintly glimmering stars that lie beyond. Nami exhaled bitterly through her nose—well, as well as she could with it being clogged uncomfortably with snot—before she wrapped the comforter around her being and slid down from the bed.

A walk around the castle should warm me up a little, she reasoned as her feet found the fluffy slippers that the castle’s two residents had loaned her. Like a penguin, burdened by the weight of her downy fortress, she waddled over to the bedroom door and gradually eased it open. The creak of the rusted hinges pierced the silence of the night like a banshee, and she nervously watched the three boys as she created a gap just big enough for her to squish through; they slept peacefully on. Nami hastily exited the room and gently shut the door back, only allowing herself to heave a sigh of relief once the latch hitched.

Then, bustling her blankets around her, she began her trek through the circular halls of Drum Castle.

As Nami plodded along, her slippers sliding against the faded carpet that lined the stone floor, the wind continued to swirl around her in its chilly ballet. As she passed one of the large windows that gave a view to the valley, she paused to peer out of it. The snow was applied like thick paint to the ground, starkly contrasting the black ink above, and just along the horizon glimmered warm clusters of faintly orange-yellow light, marking the various villages of Drum Kingdom. The moonlight, cool and white in comparison, streamed through the window to bathe Nami in its mute brilliance, turning her tangerine locks into threads of gold and her tanned skin the color of fresh cream. Her breath fogged against the chilled glass pane, spreading in a mist until her vision of the landscape outside was eclipsed. As the winter chill jumped from the window to grab at her with eager fingers, she hastily pulled herself away from the window and continued to trek down the hallway, her downy blanket shuffling around her legs as she trotted along.

Like Nami had hoped, the exercise sent warm blood pumping through her veins, driving away the cold that had seeped into her body. By the time she made it to a part of the castle she had not yet explored, a thin layer of warm perspiration had formed between herself and the blanket, and a warm tone had returned to her skin and a rosiness to her cheeks. Nami actually pulled off the comforter and folded it neatly as her interest was captured by a set of elegantly carved double doors. She set it down against the wall and walked over, her brown eyes inspecting every detail of the magnificent craftsmanship. She could see that effigies of native animals were carved into its surface. Reindeer with large, curling antlers pranced regally beside pine trees, while wererabbits hid their hulking frames in snowdrifts. Hawks circled in the swirling clouds overhead, their sharp eyes trained on the foxes slinking about through the skeletons of scrubby bushes.

Nami ran her fingers across the smooth wood, and of course found it cold to the touch. She wondered what must lay beyond such an extravagant specimen, and so her hand drifted down to the iron door handle and gave it an experimental pull. She heard the mechanisms grinding within, but the door surprisingly yielded quite easily. Nami slowly pulled the heavy door aside, then yelped as she was abruptly assaulted by the howling, whirling wind that leaped out from behind it. Pellets of snow sprayed across the carpet like paint flung from a brush and landed in Nami’s fluttering strands of hair as she huddled against the wooden door in an attempt to escape the maelstrom.

After a minute, the gale died down to a continuous rustling breeze, and Nami rubbed her paling arms and tried to keep her clattering teeth from nipping her tongue. She considered whether to abandon the exploration and return to the safety and warmth of her bed. She decided to at least have a peek into the room, and as she cautiously peered around, she was grateful that she had.

Beyond the intricately carved doors was a splendorous ballroom, the like of which Nami had never seen; the floor was pure marble, white with rivers of silver and gray, with darker granite arranged throughout in a tasteful pattern. Support columns of alabaster ringed the circular room, contrasting the stone walls that were smothered with beautifully woven tapestries depicting graceful dancers and chivalrous knights. The ceiling was domed and constructed completely of glass, not stained but completely clear, making it seem like the sky itself ceilinged the glorious room. However, part of the domed roof had shattered, causing a waterfall of snow to spill in and smother the backside of the dance hall and allow the persistent wind to descend in to give its own performance. Snow flurries were whirling about the room, riding the air current like winter fairies in a procession; they stole Nami’s breath away as they whirled by, so mesmerized was she by the ethereal display.

Without realizing it, she walked into the center of the room, her brown eyes dyed silver as they gazed wide up through the glass at the starry night sky above while the snowflakes continued their eternal performance.

“My lady, might I ask for a dance?”

Nami jumped violently, and her head snapped to the entrance as she was addressed. She had no idea she had been followed; Sanji was leaning against the threshold of the door with a cigarette burning in his mouth, and the wisps of his smoke joined the snow flurries in their ballet while the burning tip of the cigarette cast a burning glow against his smirking face. Nami puffed out his cheeks at him, admittedly disappointed that the lascivious cook had interrupted the dreamlike moment.

“What are you doing up?” he asked, the smirk falling from his lips as he gazed at her with a serious expression.

“I woke up because I was cold, so I decided to go for a walk to try and warm myself up. I was just on my way back,” she reported while turning towards him with her hands on her hips. “What about you? I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was awake; I just pretended to be asleep. This spine injury of mine makes it hard to sleep,” he grimaced while tenderly rubbing his fractured vertebrae. “I thought you would come back after a minute or so, but when you didn’t, I got worried and came looking for you.” He took a deep drag of his cigarette before pulling it from his mouth to exhale the thick smog, watching as it was instantly snatched away by the ever-present wind. His dark eyes watched as the wisps were shredded under its fierce claws and were drawn up to the ceiling of stars glimmering above their heads. “It certainly is a glamorous ballroom. It’s a shame that it’s fallen into disrepair like this.”

“Yeah, who knows the last time someone danced in here,” she shrugged, cocking one hip to the side as she held up one upturned hand and closed her eyes while shaking her head. She cracked her eyes back open when she heard Sanji’s booted feet against the smooth marble and granite floor and looked up at him quizzically when he stopped in front of her with a playful smirk. “What?”

“You never answered my question. Here, let me ask again properly,” he purred, then placed one hand behind his back and bowed his head as low as his injury would allow while holding out his free hand to her. “I humbly request a dance of a gorgeous lady, if you would have me.”

Nami rolled her eyes at his dramatized rendition of propriety, but rather than be annoyed by it, she was amused. She decided to humor him for a while, as she was still far from sleepy, and obediently slid her slender hand into his well-kept ones. Her eyes twitched as he looked up with a grin and quickly brought her hand to his lips so he could softly press a kiss to the top of it.

“Watch it, mister. Don’t get carried away,” she warned, trying to put more bite into the words than she was truly feeling. Warmth bloomed where his mouth touched her skin, and identically in the middle of her chest where her heartbeat jumped; perhaps it was the ethereal atmosphere, filling the world with a sense of romanticism, but the faintest haze of pink blossomed across Nami’s cheeks as well.

Sanji just smiled coyly at her and smoothly pulled her into position, holding her hand up while his curled about her waist. She continued to stare at him with a lion’s intensity as her hand rested on his shoulder, but in reality, she felt more like the antelope, cornered and meek. There was something so dangerous about the way he was gazing at her right now, a smoldering fire deep in the black of his eyes, but it was a danger that Nami wanted to dive headlong into, a heat that she wanted to bathe herself in.

“Me? Carried away? I scoff at the notion,” he answered coolly before he began to guide her expertly in the dance.

They slowly whirled about the ballroom, their feet crunching in frost and bits of shattered glass as they mirrored the eternal waltz of the wind and snow caught beneath the domed roof, and all the while, Sanji’s gaze remained fixed on Nami’s face. Nami found herself even more transfixed by this than the wonder of the wintery ballroom. She was unable to tear her gaze away; unable to do anything but stare back with her mouth slightly agape in nothing short of awe. Had Sanji’s blonde hair always had that beautiful sheen to it, or was it the celestial light playing tricks on her eyes? The way he was holding her, too, so sure of himself as he carried her effortlessly along, was setting her heart to a furious tempo. Nami had no idea what he was thinking as he watched her with that calm, calculated, fiery gaze, and she closed her mouth as she gulped slightly. She wondered if she had fallen into a dream; the entire thing was just that extraordinarily sensual and romantic, neither of which she normally associated with the flirty Sanji.

“Nami,” he said suddenly, drawing her out of her slightly panicky fit.

“H-Huh?”

“I’m really relieved that you’re safe.”

A blush blazed across her cheeks as he leaned forward to press his forehead against hers. While she would normally react with ire, she was still so out of sorts that she just allowed it, still captured in that smoldering fire of his eyes.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if…” he trailed off with a pained expression as if the words themselves were a thorn in his tongue, unable to be forced out. Nami knew that he wasn’t exaggerating for the sake of scoring points with her, but that his concern was heartfelt and genuine. Nami’s heart swelled with gratitude and joy, and she deigned to pull herself a little bit, an arc forming in her back as their middles brushed slightly together while they continued to slowly traverse circles across the snowy floor.

“I have you to thank for my safety, Sanji. You and Luffy carried me up the mountain… I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” she smiled sweetly at him.

Sanji mirrored her smile, and then his eyes flickered down to her lips for a brief second. Nami knew what was coming next, what his intention was, but strangely, she did not find the idea revolting or distressing; she welcomed it, wanted it, more than she thought she ever would have. Almost moving on instinct, she tilted her head upward and to the side as Sanji’s face slowly descended to kiss her.

At the exact moment their lips met, moonlight blazed into the room at full intensity, reflecting in the snow that swirled incessantly around their slow-dancing floors. The wind sang in a melodious symphony in tune with Nami’s singing heart, carrying the snow flurries around them in a swirling sphere. As the joy and love and ecstasy of it all burst inside Nami, her world became clear and blurry all at once. The glittering snowflakes were not snowflakes, but the stars themselves, the shimmering snow at their feet was not snow but the wispy, soft clouds, both diving to Earth in a tremendous crescendo to serenade the lone pair of dancers in the long-forgotten ballroom. Nami’s hand drifted from Sanji’s shoulder to the back of his neck, while his migrated to the small of her back; the fingers of their other hands, still held aloft, crept apart such that they could entwine tightly back together. Captured in the night and the kiss of the man who had stolen her heart without her realizing it, Nami was contented to remain in that dream for the rest of time.

Nami was not sure how long they kissed, but by the time they had broken apart, they had stopped dancing and were just standing in the center of the room, their faces flushed and their skin shining with a thin layer of sweat. Sanji cupped Nami’s cheek in his hand, sweeping her orange hair behind her ear while he gazed lovingly down at her.

“I must be dreaming,” he laughed airily.

“Funny, I was just thinking the same. D’ya think we could be having the same dream?”

“Oh, I hope so,” came his rumbling reply, bringing an impish smile to Nami’s face as she wound her arm around his neck and began to curl her fingers about the ends of his straight blonde locks. Sanji once more brought her hand, still locked in his grasp, to his lips to press a kiss to the top, holding it for a long time before pressing lighter kisses along her knuckles. Nami watched him with a warm smile, enjoying the feeling his lips left behind on her skin and the romantic mood of it all—

The romantic mood that was utterly ruined as she abruptly sneezed in Sanji’s face.

“I’m so sorry!” she gasped in mortification as he frowned deeply and began rubbing phlegm off his face. Blushing darkly, she hid her face in her hands, while Sanji just laughed heartily. “It’s not funny, Sanji! Oh, man, what a mood-killer,” she groaned while peering through her fingers at him.

“It’s okay, Nami. I thought it was cute,” he snickered as he shook the sleeve of his fur-lined jacket lightly. The embarrassed navigator just continued to wallow in her astronomically bad luck, whining, until Sanji wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into his chest. Hiding her fiery face in the folds of his thick jacket, he stroked her hair while continuing to laugh. She could feel it rumbling in his chest, vibrating against her face, and though it was kind of at her expense, she felt a little better.

“Ah, that was funny, but probably not a good sign. We really should get you back to bed, Nami! We have to press on to Alabasta, after all; can’t have you sick forever.”

“No. I like the sound of crawling into bed and never getting out,” she muttered. He laughed again before pulling her away from him. Her fingers clung desperately to the downy fabric of his coat, trying to pull herself back into his embrace where she did not have to face the reality of what she just did, but to no avail. He patted her head as she continued to pout pathetically.

“Look on the bright side; I’m probably the only guy who would let you sneeze in his face and not get mad.”

“That doesn’t help, Sanji!” she wailed and whirled around, running out of the ballroom to dive into her comforter and make herself into a quivering fortress of isolation. Sanji’s laughter bounced into the hall as he followed her, and only her grimacing, red face peeked out of him. “I hate you. Stop teasing me.”

“I’m not teasing! Really! It was so adorable, your face all scrunched up and that little high-pitched mousy sneeze~” He cooed as he crouched down in front of her, grinning with his cigarette clenched in his teeth. Nami turned her back to him with a haughty huff, turning up her chin at him.

“You think that’s a compliment? Jeez, you’re dense.” It was only playful banter, now; Nami was still mildly embarrassed, but at least glad he really didn’t care, even if that was kinda gross. She continued to sit there with her chin upturned as Sanji continued to try and get her up with no success; then, suddenly, the floor fell away beneath her. She squeaked in alarm and threw her arms out of the blanket to cling to the nearest thing, which happened to be the playful cook, who had decided enough was enough and picked her up, massive blanket and all. He pushed aside the comforter so that he could see and grin brightly at her.

“There. Much better.”

“I hate you,” she repeated and stuck out her tongue at him.

“I love you too, Nami,” he winked with a breathy chuckle and successfully managed to get Nami flustered once more. He began to stroll back through the castle as Nami steamed like a boiling egg, short-circuiting so much that she couldn’t even speak, just stare intensely at him. “If you wanna say something, say it, Nami!” he laughed at her.

Ugh, it’s frustrating how it’s so easy for him!

“… Fine. I love you,” she grumbled finally, admitting defeat. Sanji turned his head to beam triumphantly at her, then leaned forward to give her a soft peck on the end of her nose. Despite herself, she could not help but smile widely in joy, and as he was pulling away, she poked her head forward to bump her nose against his affectionately. “So continue to keep me safe, okay?”

“That’s a promise,” he assured her with a big smirk.

Sanji continued to carry her off down the hall, and Nami once again cast her gaze out of the large window as they passed one. The stars had vacated the ballroom to shine like beacons against the endless sea of night above, but their dance was forever in Nami’s memory. She rested her head against Sanji’s shoulder, the sleepiness finally setting in, and she silently hoped that her dream would not end anytime soon…

Did you enjoy this oneshot? Consider requesting from me by visiting my rules, then either commenting on this story, submitting an ask, or contacting me via DM!

[wispisstillverybored67]

He's BACK?! For real?! Asagiri, please tell me it's true!

[imagine-loki]

Mad Predictions

TITLE: Mad Predictions

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 10

AUTHOR: inspired-snowflace

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: “A freedom restrained the sun shall invoke, The gift from the plea a mother spoke, Purpose shall be bestowed upon your life, In form of one you should have called wife, A lover presumed dead shall be back, Now shall you truly pay for your attack.”

Ever since the fortune teller had spilt these words, Loki’s life was thrown into a hurricane. He dared to hope that after the attack on New York and the following arrest, things would get better, but these words seemed to point in an opposite direction.

Things would never remain the same, for better or worse.

RATING: Everyone

NOTES/WARNINGS: None. Updates earlier on my tumblr!!

RECAP : The avengers win over the Chitauri. But the reader realises that that the weapon aimed towards her hit Loki. She uses last of her energy to heal him before slipping into darkness.

The next time you woke up, you saw so much light, that you screwed your eyes shut. For the time being, you tried to concentrate on how your body felt. All you felt was numbness. So this is how it feels to die, you thought.

When you dared to open your eyes again, you blinked furiously to get used to the immense amount of light. Your vision kinda remained hazy, so you closed them again . As you got more used to the surroundings, you heard a soft beeping in the background, like that of a clock. But it was different, it was not consistent, right now it was speeding up. You felt unsettled with your eyes closed, so you decided to open them up. You saw a man looming in front of you.

“God?” You asked.

“You wish!!” the man scolded. “Well, I have brought you cheeseburgers, so I guess that IS kinda true.”

The cheeky voice. Hands wielding cheeseburgers. The proud grin. Of course, he wasn’t God!! You would recognise him anywhere.

It was Tony Stark.

“Team, the death girl lives!! She is awake!!” Tony shouted proudly in his earpiece. As he came more into focus, you saw that his eyes were bloodshot.

“Tony…” was all you managed.

Suddenly there was a sharp movement near your right hand and the numbing sensation was replaced by pain. It took you time to get the second figure into focus. Raven hair. Green clothes. Pale face. It was Loki. His movement made you think that he just had dozed off near your hand.

“Hi Loki” You said.

“Wait! He gets a hi and all I get is Tony? Y/N, That is completely unfair.” Tony said, feigning hurt.

Loki’s eyes were focused on you. He softly takes your hand and a green string of energy shoots towards you and you instantly felt more energised. You noticed that Loki’s eyes were as bloodshot as Tony’s. The pain began to subside.

The door opened and all the avengers came flooding in. Huge smiles imprinted on their faces. Thor jumped forward, presumably to squeeze you in a bear hug, but Tony stopped him.

Wanda came forward and a few red wisps of energy flew towards you. Instantly, everything became stark clear. You realised that the beeping you heard was actually the heart monitor and you lied on a hospital bed with various pipes and wires attached to you. The entire team stood in front of you. You raised yourself to a seating position.

“Hey Guys.” You said with a smile.

“Ok. So reindeer games gets a hi and they get a hey along with a heart melting smile and all I get is Tony… Nice Y/N, I see where this is going.” Tony said.

You looked at Tony and smiled. You noticed again that his eyes were red.

“You cried.” You told him matter-of-factly.

“What? No!! I asked Burger King to make their sauce extra spicy.” He replied.

“Stop lying, Tony!! Y/N, Tony cried each day that you were here. He kept saying things and ways how you could be saved, how he should have installed Chitauri incinerating controls in his suits. He brought burgers everyday when he visited you.” Natasha explained.

“How many days have I been here?” you asked when you noticed that Natasha said ‘everyday’.

“Seven days.” Steve replied.

“That is thoroughly incorrect. She has been here for 6 days, 18 hours and…” he checked his watch. “…. 43 minutes now.”

“We were half afraid you were aiming to break Cap’s record.” Clint quipped, joining Tony’s attempt to make it appear less of a hospital.

“Tony remembers the time because he was kicked out thrice, with time bans, when he tried to convince the doctors that you should not be given blood, but Burger King’s sauce.” Bruce said.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! But you need to admit that Dr. Pence was actually convinced.” Tony quipped back.

All of you laughed at that one, including you. Ahhh! It felt good to be alive. You noticed that Loki wasn’t laughing. His eyes were frozen on you. He noticed that you made eye contact.

“And how did you guys save me?” You inquired with genuine interest.

“By feeding you Burger King sauce. That worked like ambrosia.” Tony replied.

Steve rolled his eyes, like he did at all of Tony’s jokes. However, the next words were unexpected.

“The credit of all that goes to Loki. He used your comm to call us. It appears that after you slipped into unconsciousness, the effect wore off and the comms were usable. We picked you up and took you to the hospital. And then asked him to explain.” Natasha explained.

Steve continued, “He told us the truth but we didn’t believe him. We thought he might have done something to you and I heavily regretted leaving you in his care. Ultimately, Wanda looked into his mind and found out that he was telling the truth. He told us everything about your past, about Thanos and about the soul stone.”

You frowned. The soul stone. “Wait… Why didn’t I … you know… die??”

“Well, we didn’t hear the conversation but your last words scared the shit outta all of us. But then we found out something, thanks to Hawkeye, and then we were finally able to breathe in relief.” Bruce said.

Hawkeye continued, “Well you can see that you no longer have a scar on your head. The orange glow has disappeared. That means that you gave up the soul stone’s power rather than your life. So soul for a soul was true.”

You would have been overjoyed, but you frowned and made an attempt to use your powers. Indeed, they no longer worked. Seeing you frown, Thor asked, “Are you feeling ok, Lady Y/N?”

“So…” You made eye contact with every avenger. “… without my powers, I am no longer part of this group?” you questioned as the tears started to well.

“That is about as likely as me abandoning the Burger King sauce.” Tony said while rolling his eyes.

“Y/N, are you mad? Or do you just consider us selfish? Without you, this team is incomplete. You are family to us, Y/N.” Steve chastised, however his tone was soft.

“Really?” you said fully happy. “I love you guys!!” you exclaimed.

“And we, you!!” Wanda replied with a grin.

“Besides, Y/N, I still need somebody to beat me in a burger contest.” Tony said.

“Man of Iron, I did beat you at that! I won by approximately 62 burgers.” Thor protested.

“Dude! You are a God. You don’t count. And besides you left the last burger incomplete, so I am still counting it as 61.86.” was what Tony made his comeback.

In this bickering only Natasha noticed your sad face. “What’s with the frowns, sweetheart?”

“Well, I wont be able to help you guys anymore…” you said sadly.

“Oh!! Y/N, I can make you a suit.”

“Thanks Tony. But my forte is magic. I am not good with machines.” You smiled sadly while looking at your hands, hoping for the powers to return.

“Or else..” Nat said “…Loki can teach you magic.” You look wide-eyed at Loki who was still staring at you. You had momentarily forgotten his presence. Only after Nat’s words, did he leave you to look at her.

“Natasha, are you sure?” Clint threw caution to the wind.

Natasha sat at the end of your bed and replied, “The guy has been sitting there since the moment you arrived hear. He reads Asgardian charms to you to lessen the pain. He didn’t let any of us replace him. He just sat there seldom eating and sleeping, that too, after we told him that you would require energy when you wake up and none of us, except him and Wanda can do that, and to give you said energy he would need some himself. All this to be there when you open your eyes. That is, my friends, true love.”

Loki looked shock when the assassin praised him. He expected her to badmouth about him to you. Suddenly, he developed a new kind of respect for her.

“Yeah. I am not that heartless. Atleast, Y/N deserves a happy ending. Unless Y/N thinks something else.” She continued when she caught Loki’s expression.

He didn’t dare look at Y/N, for the fear of seeing disgust etched on her face. But when her hands cupped him cheeks, he looked at her, bewildered.

“So… Will you teach me magic…. And then we can continue to being lovers?” you asked with a smile.

“Guys, get a room already!!” Tony said while making gagging and coughing sounds. Everyone ignored him.

Loki spent two full minutes trying to comprehend your words. Realising you were serious, tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Oh norns, Yes, Y/N, Yes!! I shall teach you all I know about magic. I swear in the presence of everyone in this room that, I shall protect you with my life. I am so sorry!! So so sorry, Y/N!!” Loki cried out.

“We can visit Asgard too!! My family awaits there.” You said while smiling happily, while thinking about the future.

–THE END—

A/N : Guys, Wait !!! We still have an epilogue. ;) ;)

[phoenixflames12]

Farewell

Promoted to commander and thoroughly depressed at not having a ship to command, Tom Pullings returns to Portsmouth to await a ship and reflects on the wife and son whom he has left behind.

On AO3 here

They walk Portsmouth’s darkening streets holding hands, the tumbled voices of sailors spilling out of half open tavern doors. The male voices are an indistinguishable chorus behind them, the clouds above their heads thick and grey with the promise of rain.

Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies.

Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain.

For we’ve received orders to sail to old England,

But we hope in a short time to see you again.

Her hands are light in his, her face soft and pale in the gathering gloom, young and wide-eyed as she takes it all in.

He hadn’t wanted her to come.

He had wanted his last thoughts of her to be safe in the cottage in the New Forest, with the birch grove spilling out above the beams of their son’s bedroom and the creeping roses adorning the weathered stone.

Not here.

Not in Portsmouth.

Not standing at the edge of the quay, watching as the barges that are rowed in by men from another life pull out across the squalling, grey-green sea and bear him away to another life.

Not nursing the ghost of a final kiss, a final glimpse of him on deck as his ship weighed anchor and he let her courses fly, a final, whispered promise that he will return beating against her lips. That he will see their son into school for a short time before Gilbert, God willing follows his father into the navy as a midshipman.

‘What is it?’

He has stopped without meaning to, his eyes fixed on the Surprise lying head to wind,his chest tightening at the sight of her topsails perfectly reefed with Mowett’s customary precision against the gusting breeze.

Constance’s hand tightens against his arm, the warmth of her skin flooding through the walked wool of his pea jacket and for the first time since they had descended the steps of the stage-coach, he turns to look at her.

Bright, grey eyes gleam out of the gloom, set high in a pale face framed by wisps of chestnut coloured curls.

A bonnie face.

A country face, one that he had fallen in love with in the candlelit shadows of a country ball in Woodgreen, before his first commission as a lieutenant had been sent down and he had been ordered away to Portsmouth.

Her father, a respected, affluent country parson had not wanted her to marry him, he had known that much- a naval officer without any distinguishments to his name, living on half pay in a tithed cottage at the bottom of the grounds of Braemor Manor was not the man that he would have wanted for his eldest daughter.  

Her nose is pert and red with cold, her cheeks that are shielded by the rim of her bonnet, flushed with the chill of the westerly blowing off the sea.

‘It’s nothing. Nothing for you to trouble yourself with,’ he murmurs, the lie grey and dry on his tongue.

‘Nothing. Really.’ She raises an eyebrow at him, searching his face, committing him to memory.

He can feel her eyes lingering on the scar that reaches across his forehead and ran down the line of his nose, her mittened hands reaching up to cup his cheeks, lightly brushing against the faded pull of blood on skin, her eyes brimming over with love and worry.

And suddenly he remembers the day that he had returned home, his face still throbbing from Dr Maturin’s needle, still slightly unsteady on his feet from the worst days of fever. His body had ached with new bruises from being tossed like a cork in a barrel in his berth on the return voyage in a homeward bound packet that Maturin and Jack had transferred him at Gibraltar when he was strong enough to walk unaided,  had been battered still further by the two day journey in the stagecoach that passed at the bottom of the estate.

Remembers the way that she had hovered in the doorway to the cottage, love and worry and unsurity playing across her face like ripples across a pond.

Remembers the way that Gilbert, the son that he barely knows and yet wants so badly to know, had peered at him from behind his mother’s skirts, his hazel eyes that are flecked with gold and look so much like Constance, travelling from his face to the travel stained cloak and the drawstring sack slung at his feet, widening at the glint of the golden epaulette that Tom had risked so much for gleaming on his shoulder.

His son had filled out since he had seen him last.

The last vestiges of babyhood that Tom remembers from his last time on shore leave had been slowly chipped and chiselled away until a square-chinned, lean faced boy with high cheekbones and a smatter of summer freckles stares back at him.

A boy that he does not know and wishes that he did.

‘Mother? Who… Who’s that man?’

And Constance had drawn their son to face his father, the boy’s eyes darting away from him to fix themselves on the known safety of his mother, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders.

‘This is your Father, Gilbert. The one that we pray for, remember?’

A small nod and then, almost as if he remembers himself, he had moved away from Constance and given Tom a tiny imitation of a leg.

‘Pleased to make your acquaintance sir.’

The words had sounded stiff and formal, learnt by rote and memorised for this moment and Tom had felt his heart ache at the sight of it.

Slowly, he had squatted down to the boy’s height and nodded his agreement, one hand reaching slowly to rest itself on his son’s shoulder.

‘And I you, Gilbert.’ His voice is a husky breath caught deep in his throat, something that could be a sob strangling against the words, his eyes flicking up to catch his wife’s gaze. She had replied with a too-quick smile, sparks of silver pooling in her eyes.  

‘And I you.’

The wind has picked up since they left the comfortable fug of travellers and sailors in the tavern, sharply changing course so that it cuts across the swell, whipping up white flecked waves against the wet stone wall in its’ wake.

Overhead, the clouds are boiling into darkening thunderheads, the last vestiges of the sun’s weak, white light slashed against the sky.

Beside him, Constance shivers and on impulse he draws her closer, reaching to press a soft, chaste kiss against the cool chill of her cheek, the fine boned weight of her shoulder blades pressing comfortably against his chest.

The weight of her bones pressing through the confines of heavy brocade is a comfort, a familiarity that he has held onto ever since he had begun his return home.  She is as familiar to him as his own soul and that, Dr Maturin had said, on the morning of his departure, was supposed to help.

Overhead, a gull careers wildly through the billowing darkness of the clouds and dives; a sudden, brilliant flash of white lighting up the sky.

‘There’s something’s troubling you, isn’t there?’

Slowly, she turns to face him, her eyes betraying everything that her heart cannot and for the first time since they arrived in Portsmouth, he wishes that Gilbert were here.

Wishes that there could be something to distract him from the darkening thoughts that keep trying to crowd the corners of his brain.

Something that will stop the nagging, persistant voice that crowds behind his eyes and blurs his vision so that his beloved Surprise becomes little more than a mess of  black lines and arrows against a rolling, storm tossed sky, whispering over and over again that this waiting is futile, that he is worthless, that he will never get another command and will be walking to the admiralty waiting for the news of a ship that will never come until his dying day from taking over his every waking thought.

‘It’s…’

The word ‘nothing’- cold, dismissive, devoid of feeling- dies on his tongue.

But it is not nothing.

It is the sight of Mowett, one of his oldest and closest friends, filling his place, waving from the quarterdeck with the Captain and all of his old shipmates as he lets the courses fly out and the anchor is weighed, the ship and the crew that he owes so much to gliding beautifully out into their new adventure without him.

It is Gilbert growing up too quickly, his bones bending and moulding to fit a body that he has seen so little of, his mind a brilliant fire that is alive with questions about the world and his place within it.  

A strangled sob catches in the back of his throat, choking his mouth until there are shards of salt stabbing behind his eyes.

Wordlessly, Constance presses closer, curling her hand tighter around his arm, her head resting against the walked wool of his boat cloak.

‘Oh, Tom,’ she murmurs, her voice barely a whisper. He does not want to look at her, does not think that he can look at her, but he knows from her small, choked swallow that she is trying to hold back tears.

‘Is there anything that I can do to make it better?’

In his heart of hearts, he knows that it is a futile question, but appreciates the sentiment.

No, my love.’ The words are choked and grey, lost in a kiss that he presses to her cheek that smarts with cold, his gaze fixed on the slowly fading spread of canvas that is the Surprise’s main topgallant flowing freely in the brisk, rain washed breeze as it disappears into the blaze of the dying sunset, his lips quivering into a small, wet smile.

‘No. Just be here with me. Please?’

‘Of course,’ she murmurs after a moment of silence, where the only sounds are the cry of the gulls wheeling and diving about their heads and the salt-stained crash of waves against the quay.

‘Of course I will.’

                                                       Fin

[leopardprinttrashchild]

An Empty Sun

[Lilia POV, surrealism; written for the @yoiprimadonnazine] [AO3]

        It is quiet.

        This is the first thing she notices – or no, maybe it is not the first. Time is as faint and distant as the flecks of light scattered across the inky expanse that lies before her.

        Perhaps this is an old realization as well as a new one, or perhaps it is a flicker of knowledge from a future self, a different self.

        She does not know.

        It does not matter.

        It is quiet.

        It isn’t a silence borne of hushed noise, of the sudden loss of sound: it is the absence of sound itself, of the idea of sound, of its past and present and future.

        It is quiet.

        She does not know why.

        It does not matter.

        ~

        She is alone.

        This is the first thing she notices – or no, maybe it is not the first. She does not remember if anything has come before. The stars lie before her, constant, constantly changing. They are what they have always been. They are not what they will be. They are faint and distant.

        She is alone, and she does not remember why.

        It does not matter.

        She has not forgotten: to forget is to lose something that was once known. It is an absence made notable by the presence it used to have.

        Perhaps she has not yet learned what it is to remember, to be remembered.

        It does not matter.

        She is alone, and she does not remember why.

        ~

        It is quiet, and she is alone.

        Perfect silence. Perfect stillness. And yet, they are not perfect – cannot be, can never be. Perfection is the opposite of imperfection, its balance and counterweight. Without imperfection, there can be no perfection.

        Silence. Stillness.

        It is not silent. Silence is the absence of sound. Without the possibility of sound, it isn’t silence. It simply… is.

        Stillness.

        Is there such a thing as stillness without the potential for motion? Nothing without something is not precisely nothing. It simply… isn’t.

        She speaks aloud, and her voice echoes into starlight.

        It is not silent.

        She dances.

        It is not still.

        She is alone, and she does not remember why.

        She dreams.

        She remembers.

        She is not alone.

        ~

        In her new world, she is old.

        Or: she is not young. She is not old compared to the rocks that make up the stone steps leading up to her front door, nor even to the large, leafy tree whose shadow falls across the pavement.

        She is not young. She is not old.

        She is.

         As usual, Lilia’s feet ache in the narrow points of her shoes. She barely notices, but in the moments when she does, she thinks that it is a fitting echo of her past. Her feet always hurt when she was young.

        Her doctor had insisted that she spurn heels of any height. Instead, he told her, she should fill her closet with the sort of sturdy, sensible loafers that women are meant to wear once they reach a certain age.

        She’d allowed him to speak for exactly sixty seconds when he brought up the matter, talking about bunions and knee strain and arthritis. Once the minute came to an end, she nudged him into silence with a slight nod.

        Lilia doesn’t think back to his courteous displeasure as she strides into the athletic complex. Her heels count out sharp, measured, twinging clicks against the tiled floor.

        “Lilia. Thank you for coming.”

        “Good morning, Yakov,” Lilia replies. He is unsure of himself. His voice is too loud and his movements are tense as he tries to find the balance of their meeting. It is tiresome. “If you would introduce me to your student so that I may make my decision?”

        “Oh. Yes. Of course.”

        Yakov hadn’t been a bad husband – he was merely unexceptional. Lilia does not surround herself with the mediocre.

        She does not regret her choices. She does not doubt herself.

        She does not reconsider.

        Yuri Plisetsky is talented and ill-mannered, brittle and bristling behind his sneering, arrogant veneer. Above all else, he is changing, growing, evolving; he is a flickering spark that must be guided before it bursts into an uncontrolled blaze or gutters out in a wisp of smoke.

        He will do, even if his flexibility leaves something to be desired.

        “People who can be reborn as many times as necessary are the strong ones,” she tells him, and Yuri understands in a way that Yakov never had.

        The self cannot be constructed from memories. It must be created anew each moment, willed into being again and again and again. There is no room for doubt.

        The present cannot be remembered. It can only be.

        ~

        She wakes, and she is.

        Before her dream, she was not silent, because there could be no sound. She was not still, because there could be no movement. She was not alone, because there could be no others. Before her dream…

        But no, not before. Nothingness has no space even for something as small as time.

        Rather: she was not. Now there is a now, and in that now, she finds herself. She finds silence, stillness. She is alone.

        She remembers.

        The flaws of her dream haunt her. It is an unfamiliar sensation.

        It feels like being trapped.

        It feels like being free.

        She isn’t sure if they’re truly so different.

        She remembers, but she does not understand.

        “I miss you.”

        She murmurs her confession to the distant stars. They do not hear. They are not listening.

        “You never knew me.”

        She is remembering, and she is dreaming. She is not alone.

        “I created you,” she says.

        She speaks to a young man who holds a golden ring. The metal is impure, but it is beautiful. She speaks to him – a different him, who knows a different her. He is older, greying. He stares down at the ring in his palm. She speaks to a boy who is everything she is and everything she isn’t. She speaks to Lilia with her sharp eyes and ruined feet.

        “But you never knew me,” they reply.

         “I made you.” She turns her thoughts to Lilia. “I am you.”

        “You are not.” Lilia is not lost in the nowhere that is everywhere. She stands, confident in herself, confident in her judgement. “You are not. You are nothing.”

        “I was, and I am.”

        “To be is to become. It is to act, not to remember, not to dream. A memory is nothing more than a ghost of what no longer is, and a dream is a ghost of what never was.”

        “You taught me that,” Yuri adds. “That’s how you created me, Madame Lilia. A beautiful, ever-evolving monster, born and reborn as many times as necessary.” He grins, quick and bright and sheepish. “Yeah, I know you kept that article. I found it in your desk.”

        “When?” She does not remember this.

        “Huh.” He tilts his head. “I guess you haven’t gotten there yet.”

        “You keep a lot of things,” Yakov tells her, tells them, tells Lilia and she-who-isn’t. He holds up the golden ring but doesn’t put it on. “Your name. Your shoes. Your dreams. They must be more than ghosts, Lilechka.”

        “Whatever they were, they are not now,” Lilia retorts. “They are nothing. We are not our pasts.”

        “We are who we have made ourselves.”

        “We are who we make ourselves.”

        They – Yakov and Lilia and Yuri and a thousand other faces – turn to her. “Who are you?”

        “I am me. I am now.”

        Lilia frowns. “Who are you becoming?”

        “Myself.”

        “Who were you?” Yakov asks.

        “I…”

        “Why?” Yuri looks up at her, as if he’d heard the answer she couldn’t give. He’s young, a child both driven and directionless.

        “I don’t know,” she finally replies. “I haven’t gotten there yet.”

        ~

        She is young.

        She is young, but she is not new. Lilia has seen enough of the world to scoff at its mysteries. She has seen enough to tell gilt from gold.

        The difference is this: gilt will eventually be tossed aside. Gold will be treasured.

        Lilia sometimes wishes that she hadn’t chosen to dance, but it is who she has always been, even if it’s not who she always will be. It is who she is, and so Lilia walks in every day on torn feet.

        She keeps her pointe shoes from the Bolshoi’s last show of each season. Lilia does not look at them where they rest, stained with old memories and dried blood, but it is safer to store the final performances in a box than in her mind. The future will hurt her if she allows the past to creep in too frequently, and that is something she is not allowed to forget.

        “You are art, lily girl,” the director croons. Her title is not capitalized on his lips: there are many lilies and many girls. Both are transient, fleeting. “I am the artist.”

        The dancers are tools. They are the canvas, but not the hand that holds the brush; they are the flute, but not the breath that calls the notes to life.

        The dancers are tools, and Lilia is the prima ballerina assoluta. She is art, and she is beautiful, and she is to be discarded once her bristles begin to bend and fray.

        “Yes, Kostya,” Lilia says. She smiles with the sweet delicacy of water thawing beneath a frozen surface. She is spring, and she is blooming, and she is dangerous. Art can hold more power than its artist, even if she has not yet learned to wield it. “I am art.”

        “Do you hate him?” Yakov asks her. He scowls before grumbling, “I do.”

        “I can’t hate him, Yasha. I need him.” Lilia knows that he does not understand, will not understand. Yakov will skate, though he may not win, and then he will teach. He is a man. He will not expire. “There are many dancers.”

        “Not like you, Lilechka. You’ve always been more than he’ll ever be.”

        “I dance his steps.”

        “For now,” Yakov says, his eyes soft. “Don’t forget that.”

        She sighs. “I never do.”

        Lilies wilt. Girls grow up. Men die.

        A heart attack. It’s explained in short, soft, gentle words by men who look down on the gathered ballerinas as if they’re speaking to children. The male dancers have been told already.

        A few of the girls begin to cry. What will become of the season? they ask each other. What will happen to us?

        The new director will be another artist. He will have his own visions, his own palette.

        But Lilia is the prima.

        “We will continue,” Lilia tells them sharply. “We will dance.”

        She leaves lilies on the grave of Konstantin Pavlovich Ignatyev. She does not cry. She does not gloat. He is nothing, and she is here. She is art.

        She will not be painted, played, written. She was created, but now she will create.

        She is not a lily girl.

        She is not gilt.

        She is gold.

        ~

        She watches the stars.

        Did she dream them, she wonders, or did they dream her? Neither feels true. They are and she is, without beginning or middle or end. There is nothing to shape her.

        There is nothing.

        In this emptiness, she has no past to remember and no future to await. She is only what she creates in each moment.

        Lilia stands beside her. “It is perfect.”

        It is nothing, so it is perfect. There are no flaws. It is everything that her dream is not, was not, will never be.

        It is nothing. It is not perfect.

        “Why can’t it be?” Yuri asks her.

        “I dreamed it. I am not sure that I created it.”

        He huffs. “We can make it better.”

        “Would you change everything, Lilechka?” sighs Yakov.

        “We are more than our pasts,” she tells him. She looks to herself, to Lilia. “We are more than this moment. We create, and we remember. We are remembered, and we are created.”

        She turns to Yuri. Softly, she says, “We are more than who we will become.”

        “Who are you?” they query.

        “I am the dreamer.”

        “And will you dream?”

        “No.” She smiles into the perfect, imperfect nothingness. “We will live.”

        ~

        Lilia dreams and she wakes. She moves and she is still. She is alone and she is not. She remembers and she forgets. She creates and she is created.

        She was.

        She will be.

        She is.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

avengers: infinity war

um. SPOILERS.

so i finally watched spiderman: infinity war avengers: infinity war yesterday with the inimitably awesome aakanksha ( @franklyineedcoffee). it was great! very cgi and very Epic.

like. mcu movies were never terribly remarkable to me, but then they got Spiderman involved (and made him great!) and the ensuing trifecta of extremely enjoyable films (homecoming, ragnarok and black panther) finally made a fangirl out of me. which basically primed me perfectly to enjoy the shit out of infinity war. 

a few thoughts! a second reminder for SPOILERS because i discuss about basically everything.

1. the film did a great job juggling so many characters and so many plot threads? of course some parts were under-served (the whole wakanda stretch was a bit meh to me), but at no point was i just waiting for the film to get back to the Interesting Bit. almost all of it was equally engaging.

2. i’d heard a lot about thanos going into this film but what i wasn’t expecting was to be reminded of two villains that the mcu had done really, really well recently: adrian toomes/the vulture from homecoming, and erik killmonger from black panther. thanos isn’t nearly as compelling as either of them and certainly doesn’t deserve a fraction of the sympathy we can reasonably afford to either toomes/killmonger, but the kind of sad, single-minded conviction that he used to justify murdering trillions of people? yeah, that was all-too-familiar. far from the cackling, evil villain trope, both toomes and killmonger were shaped and scarred by unforgiving circumstances; you didn’t approve of the stuff they did but their pathos was palpable. thanos plays this part of the villain arc very well--he doesn’t visibly delight in death and destruction, but does it because he is burdened with it. and isn’t that how it usually goes in the real world? the worst people in the world never believe in their own evil--just their own status as a Special Person Who Knows Something Better Than Everyone Else. a special destiny, a special responsibility with all that power. sometimes the line between superhero and villain is so, so thin.

2.5. because looking at it objectively, his motivation was some malthusian bullshit, yeah? and in a way recalls some of the most harrowing repercussions of bullshit science from the early twentieth century. so if i read one more thinkpiece about ‘errrrr guys maybe thanos had a point’ i’m going to lose it. both the writing and performance for thanos was fantastic--he practically dripped with gravitas, even under all the layers of cgi and chaotic fight scenes--but let’s not confuse that with actual sense/decency, yeah?

3. the groupings were great--so great that i could’ve readily watched an entire film based on any one of them. my favourite had to be thor with rocket/groot. i would’ve never guessed it, but it turned out to be the most poignant dynamic of them all. that little conversation that rocket had with thor was a little oasis in the middle of a terribly chaotic movie and neatly tied in and mirrored the incredible character development both the characters had undergone in their last movies--GotG vol 2 and ragnarok. this scene for me was an example of the ultimate reward of getting a film like infinity war--a moment of truly resonant emotional connection between two wildly differing characters and genres.

3.5. and, btw, the genres! can we talk about that a bit? it was a really cool mix of generic superhero stuff with sci-fi, a touch of horror, magic, swords-and-sorcery, opposites-meet comedy, a bit of romance, and just good old-fashioned family drama. 

3.75. and speaking of drama, the whole arc with gamora was gutting and inspired more tears from me than the much-talked-about snap. the sheer range of emotions she went through right before and after she realised that thanos was going to kill her and why! zoe saldana is fucking amazing.

4. aagh i just wished we had more time but all of the groups played really well off each other: i enjoyed iron man and company in particular because duh, spiderman, and watching three gigantic egos clash in the form of tony stark, dr strange, and peter quill was entertaining as all hell. and i know tumblr fandom in particular likes to give tony a hard time but i was impressed not just by his quick thinking, his surely-impossible technology, and his raw physical strength, but also his ability to lead, well, any team. he had spiderman covered (summoning the iron spider suit! appointing him an avenger! collaborative flying of an alien spaceship!), had dr strange figured out pretty quickly, and tried his best to steady peter quill. 

4.5. the group on wakanda wasn’t nearly as compelling, but much of their screen time was filled with fighting cannon fodder and that’s literally the least interesting part of any mcu movie, so. i guess i was also annoyed by rhodey basically throwing away the principled position he took in civil war--the narrative had to essentially make the regulatory body a one-dimensional super-villain. and, like. whatever. the avengers have to reform, etc. but it still stinks. i kind of dozed through the parts of civil war that didn’t involve spiderman but some of the issues that it raised were compelling. but then those issues were just used as an excuse to get a slugfest between iron man and captain america and now somehow an agreement signed by 150+ countries is all about oh no! will steve and tony ever make up?? like, fuck that shit. 

4.85. i didn’t expect to be as moved as i was by vision and wanda, though. unlike the nat/bruce thing that also kind of came out of the blue in ultron, these two were weirdly compelling. (although wanda’s missing accent is bothering me.)

5. there was so much cgi in this movie! some of it was truly breathtaking but more often than not it felt suffocating. i feel like tony stark and co. were especially ill-served: the deep blues of the doughnut spaceship and the flashy, dusty oranges on titan just made it more difficult to see the characters and, idk. i’m not a fan of the effect. 

5.5. everything involving thor was great, tho. couldn’t possibly match the climactic bridge scene in ragnarok in terms of pure Epicness but came close several times. 

6. mmm, what else? i really liked that this film undercut a lot of the truly dramatic scenes with humour--it just lent a dreadful sense of finality to the scenes that left us with death rather than a punchline.

6.5. another note: i realise that thor continually calling rocket and groot ‘rabbit and tree’ was supposed to be funny, but why would he do that? the ‘captain’ has a name. and he speaks groot’s language! why would he call him something as reductive as ‘tree’? (unless groot’s actual name is tree) it’s just a little niggling thing but it’s starting to bother me a lot now.

6.55. but i do find it a little endearing that prideful, extremely sensitive rocket never once bothered to correct thor.

7. ultimately the Epicness that made this movie possible is also one of the things that repeatedly threatens to bring it down. i just don’t want this film to fall down the rabbit hole that SPN finds itself in--expand its scope exponentially and find itself unable to remotely do it the justice that it deserves. what do you do with a character who could kill half the universe with a snap of his fingers? what do you do with characters who, in their individual movies, have expressed powers and resources that are seriously large-scale?

we see the film sputter in this respect a couple of times: i never understood why thanos didn’t just use the reality stone to, say, turn tony’s tech into cheesecake or something. out of respect at the man’s sheer tenacity? idk. and loki going out by trying to stab thanos was weird to me. was he deliberately sacrificing himself? is there something else going on? doesn’t he have much better weapons in his arsenal? at least he was aiming for the head

and the consequences of the final snap where more than half of the heroes disintegrated in front of their friends’ eyes should’ve felt more devastating, but the neatness of the old avengers being spared so that they could save (avenge if you will) their next generation in a final hurrah in the next movie seemed way too obvious. that’s not to say it wasn’t impactful. watching peter parker disintegrate in tony’s arms, fighting till the very last minute to stay he was so scared oh god he just wanted to stay and for mr stark to make it all right was gutting, no matter how much i’d prepared myself for it. i may have whimpered. 

8. i’m sure i have a lot more to say but it’s getting late and i’m tired, so. another post in the near future maybe.

but before i go, how could i not talk about spiderman?? i screamed my throat raw at the first sight of peter parker, and although he doesn’t actually get all that much screen time he made every second count. the awe-inspiring appearance of the iron spider. “have you ever seen that old movie, aliens?” the sheer range of emotions that passed his face when tony stark officially made him an avenger. flying spaceships along with tony. fun with magic portals! almost getting the gauntlet off because he is Just That Strong. saving mantis and drax. and clinging to life till the very last second even as the edges of his body were starting to wisp away. this boy. god. how mcu hit the perfect formula to represent my all-time favourite superhero on screen is a mystery, but i’m so so glad it happened. 

[dear-mrs-otome]

So in another life (ok, currently I still am but otome is my main focus nowadays) Mrs. O was a massive Marvel fangirl. Specifically Loki, and even more specifically, a Loki x Jane Foster shipper. I was cleaning out the writing folders today and found this old scrap, set between The Avengers and Thor: The Dark World, and @wonky-glass-ornament and @han-pan demanded it see the light of day. Blame them for this - we will return you to your regularly scheduled otome shortly!

Scrying was never a skill that came easy to anyone, Loki had been told. Which might have been why it was the first magic Frigga taught to him as a small boy sitting on her lap, her fingers pungent with the smell of wool and dye as she cradled his tiny hands within her own.

“If you can master scrying, you can master anything,” she said quietly in his ear, turning one of his soft hands palm up. “For this, of all the magics, comes from without just as much as within. We must ask Yggdrasil for its blessing to peer down its branches, and the great tree gives nothing for free.”

Frigga’s bronze curls fell about her shoulders and tickled his nose as she pulled free the ornate pin that held the heavy mass of her hair in place. Gold filigree glinted as she turned it pensively in her hand, a silence stretching taut between them that he grew terrified of breaking. Not when Mother had that faraway look in her eyes.

“A key,” she murmured, and he had the distinct impression the words were never meant for him. “To open or to shut, it is his choice.”

It was best for his young self that she gave no warning, that before he had time to even flinch Frigga had driven the sharp point of her gilded hairpin into the padded mound below his thumb. He’d never been one for crying, allowing just a sharp intake of breath to hiss past his clenched teeth as pain and blood welled. But he trusted his mother like none other, and while she might hurt him she would never hurt him. She offered no words of comfort as she coaxed drops of scarlet from bud to full bloom on his skin, no gentle caress as she went about her craft. Sympathy would only do him a disservice, he knew - make him even softer than Father already thought he was.

Three perfect drops of blood rolled off his hand, falling like rubies into the waiting vessel of water that sat before them. They swirled and tinted the water delicately pink against the mirror-bright finish of the bowl, bronze turning ruddy as sunset where candlelight flickered mysteries along its surface.

“Ask, and look,” Frigga instructed. “If your desire and your will is great enough, Yggdrasil will listen.”

“Show -” His voice broke, thin and reedy, the way he always hated. Licking lips that had gone bone-dry, Loki tried again with the first thing that came to mind. “Show me Thor.” He nudged the words towards the bowl, weighted with intent and skipping like stones across the water. Ripples fragmented in the wake of his breath, and when the shivering stilled he saw the form of his brother clearly in its depths.

Thor was laughing at something Fandral must have said, his eyes crinkled with humor. No sound reached his ears and yet Loki could hear as clear as any spoken word his brother’s mirth. Rapt, he bent forward until his nose nearly touched the water, drinking in every tiny detail. The glitter of naked steel in their hands as they sparred, the dust that smudged on their cheeks and mapped the lines of their palms. Loki’s fingers stretched forward of their own accord until they plunged into the bowl, and the vision broke up and scuttled away like clouds before a storm.

“It is only a reflection, my son. More than what the eyes see, but less than what exists.” Frigga brushed a soft thumb over his wound, leaving unbroken skin behind, and curled his fingers around a kiss she pressed into his palm. Loki peered up at her, trying to breath around the wide, greedy expanse that was unfurling in his chest, and found her blue eyes faded by a sadness that seemed incongruent with his triumph. “To touch is to ruin it, Loki. Never forget that.”

Boredom was the most insidious of foes Loki had faced.

The inside of this cell, starkly white and sterile, seemed as blank as his own mind was becoming. Books only did so much to relieve the monotony, and visits from his mother were too few and far between to do more than accentuate the dull expanses of time that had passed. He blamed apathy, the grasping sucking beast that it was, for the idea that had him conjuring his mirrored bowl from the pocket of space he hid his precious remaining possessions. A cup of water left over from his last meal was poured in, a few words murmured over the surface, and he was blissfully free from the confines of this cell for at least a few bittersweet hours.

It was Thor he sought out first, of course. And the Warriors Three, and the Lady Sif, hewing their ways across the nine realms - entertaining for the first few weeks, but soon just as dull as incarceration. He moved on then to politics, shamelessly listening in on the quiet talks between his mother and Odin each evening, to the murmurings of the Einherjar and the machinations of courtiers. Then he moved on to other realms- a week spent watching Nidavellir’s king extricate himself from some scandal, a fortnight observing the training methods of the Vanir armies, a day spent idly studying the ruins of Svartalfheim. And finally, Midgard and its defenders. The ones indirectly responsible for his mouldering in this cell in the first place. But even their ham-fisted bellicose games grew tiresome after awhile, and ennui grasped at his limbs like mud once more.

It was a moment of madness then perhaps, that inspired him to whisper her name over the mirror one afternoon. Curiosity at what had become of the player he’d forgotten to account for on the chessboard he’d so carefully crafted. Jane Foster - the pawn that had helped to bring down a king. He’d been a fool to forget that even the lowliest of pieces could tilt an endgame.

Before he knew it he’d spent an entire afternoon engrossed in the spectacle of her insatiable curiosity.

And the next.

And the next.

A harmless enough amusement at first. It was fascinating, witnessing an intellect he’d presumed most mortals incapable of possessing. Certainly there had been Erik Selvig, but even Loki couldn’t say for sure how much of Dr. Selvig’s work on the Tessaract was his own conclusions, and how much was bleed-through from Loki’s own. But there was something Jane Foster possessed that Selvig hadn’t, and that even Tony Stark’s intellect paled beside. A sort of dogged single-mindedness that Loki couldn’t help but admire in some way. She pursued answers the way a fine hound trailed scents on the wind, heedless of all else until the quarry had been sussed out.

She reminded him of himself, truth be told - of the burning intensity which flared in his belly sometimes that would turn everything else to ash until quenched.

So he watched, as she chased a hand’s-breadth away from grasping the truth of the Bifrost, as she stared up at the stars and dreamt of his brother. As weeks turned to months, and she looked upwards less and less, although she never stopped running after the truth.

Until he woke one morning, snarled amongst matted damp sheets and lingering wisps of dream, half-bound by streamers of fantasy woven from the cinnamon glint of brown hair in sunlight and wide doe eyes. Shame burning in his belly and his cheeks at the thought of a mortal invading his sleep, but most of all at the heated flesh that lay thick and heavy against his leg.

He’d been in here, alone, for far too long.

He put the mirror away that day, and didn’t touch it again for weeks.

(If anyone else out there enjoys Lokane, hmu and I’ll share links to all my other stuff privately!)

[onenightandgone]

Mind’s Eye - Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten Kai x Reader x Sehun Mutant!AU Content warning for violence/sensitive topics

His screams grew more distant.

The floor grew closer to your face as your legs gave out. Arms caught you and held you upright until they managed to finesse you into a chair. The room grew faded and its features faded before your eyes.

Kai was still screaming. Why couldn’t you stop it? Why couldn’t you help him?

Rebecca’s cold, small hands brushed at the long strings of hair hanging down in your eyes.

‘Stay here!’ she said. ‘Stay here for him.’ She hooked your arm around her shoulders and dragged you to your feet. The window of the observation deck came into focus, stepping closer to it on your unsteady foundation.

You pressed your hand against the cold glass of the pane. The world moved sickeningly in and out of focus, but the one shape that lay steady was Kai.

His cry broke off as they finally disrupted the voltage streaming through his system. He grunted through the last of his violent trembling and finally laid still.

Dr. Bill nodded and made a few notes on his clipboard.

‘Progress to the second stage,’ he said. His pen scratched on the page, as if he had done this every day. As if it were common to him.

Kai’s chest heaved as he struggled for air. His eyes darted about the room wildly. The blood from being beaten into submission still streamed in dark ribbons down his face.

Nothing would stop spinning. You couldn’t stop the living horror framed in white cotton lab coats and stainless steel everything. Not even your voice would cooperat to protest as the orderlies cut the gown from his body.

A strange croak of a gasp left your throat when they took a bucket and smoothly poured its contents over Kai.

Kai cursed and shivered. The table he was strapped to also served as a basin of sorts with its raised sides, making sure that the water didn’t have anywhere else to go but to pool underneath him. The pieces of ice floated around him and encased him in cold. His eyes darted up to where you were barely standing, still clinging to Rebecca and the wall.

Kai smiled at you kindly, even as he trembled naked in the freezing water. In that moment you wanted to tear down the whole lab, to burn down every wall to get to him. He was being unexpectedly brave. As Kai nodded, you knew that it was for you.

‘Start please,’ Dr. Bill instructed.

The orderly took the electrode paddles of the shock therapy machine again. He rubbed them together, even though he already knew they were certainly working.  He didn’t hesitate before applying them to Kai’s temples.

Kai went rigid as the current tore through his body again, the effects of the electricity were exacerbated and multiplied by the cold water. He couldn’t even cry out from the white hot pain that locked his jaw in place.

You screamed for him this time.

‘No, no, no! No! Please! Stop!’ your voice cried out in spite of your own body’s lack of cooperation and coordination.

Rebecca pulled you back from the window and tried urgently to quiet you down.

You only did so to focus on your consciousness reaching out for Kai. You tried to withdraw his physical presence to ease his pain even just a little bit. But as soon as you had connected, the same current ripped through your own body. Your muscles stiffened, board-like, and the white fire burst through your veins. The pain was familiar and yet simultaneously more intense than ever before as you experienced it through Kai’s senses.

Rebecca let go of you quickly, and you fell to your back.

You heard muffled voices coming from below, shouts of panic and urgent instructions from the doctor.

The electric current seemed to ease before it ceased entirely, but the shockwaves it left behind still rippled through your nervous system, burning and destroying.

Rebecca hissed your name and you tried to look around, tried to get up, but your muscles wouldn’t cooperate.

Suddenly the door burst from its frame, failing to hold back the mighty wind that tore it open widely. The force softened as it slithered over your skin, the breeze cooling and kissing your brow.

Footsteps approached on the carpet of the observation room. You tensed in an apprehensive response, but the sneakers that tread into your limited, blurred field of vision immediately brought relief.

He crouched down beside you. Your eyes willing focused on Sehun’s face.

He beamed down at you as if he were the very sunshine itself, smiling at you as if you were the light he was blessed with.

‘I’m here,’ he whispered, his voice soft. Sehun leaned down, his lips pressing against your temple. ‘I’m here now, don’t worry.’ His power seemed to billow about the room. It strengthened as it swept towards Rachel, pushing her back and away from the two of you.

His cold fingers brushed back your hair, and he kissed your forehead again.

‘Sehun, you have to leave,’ you said. Your voice trembled as you struggled for control. You tried to push yourself off the floor, but he stopped you curtly.

‘Shh,’ he hissed softly. ‘There’s only one place we need to go. Come on, he’ll be waiting for us.’

‘Sehun-‘

‘Close your eyes,’ he said quietly.

You obeyed. Your eyes fell closed, and you fell backwards into yourself.

It was dark in the in-between of waking and sleeping, the strange place where dreams came from. Was this a dream? You wondered.

A damp chill ran over your skin until a force wrenched your upper half up to sitting. Strong arms wrapped themselves around you, your head gently held against a wide strong chest. The heartbeat you heard was a pattern you had memorized – during your long nights with Sehun.

He spoke quietly.

‘Do you trust me?’ Sehun said. His lips brushed softly against your forehead.

You let yourself curl up in his arms, realizing how much you missed being held.

‘I trust you,’ you said. You let yourself rest in this moment

You felt his smile against your skin. It broke away briefly as he guided your face up into a heartfelt kiss. You reveled in the small wisp of heat that his pressure produced.

His voice whispered in the darkness. ‘You know that I love you. No matter what happens, remember that. Remember this.’

Sehun covered your lips with his tenderly, his arms tightening around you. He kissed you until the darkness faded into something else, and you were lead beyond your dreamscape.

You came to wakefulness on the cold stone floor of the cavern. You scrambled to your feet as fast as you could.

Sehun and Kai weren’t there. It was the first time you had been there by yourself, and the emptiness swirled around you icily. The clouds were missing from the ceiling - they had been replaced by a replete darkness, inky and black against the icy grey rock.

You called for them and reached for them with your mind, but there was nothing but emptiness in response.

Where had they gone? You puzzled over this. You were about to call again when the cavern began to tremble. The vibrations quickly graduated to full on tremors, like being shaken up and down in a tiny box.

You were pushed to your knees by the forces, unbalanced in your weakened state. You watched the boulders start to cascade down roughly, tearing from the ceiling and crashing through the floor around you.

You collapsed down into a ball, covering your head. Is this it? you thought sadly. You thought tenderly of Sehun and his consistent dependability. You thought sweetly of Kai and his wild heart, touches of sadness at your unfinished words to him.

But suddenly the violent earthquake stopped and the peaceful quiet overtook your hearing with an overwhelming buzz. You looked up outside of the cocoon of your arms.

The small cavern that you had known your whole life was gone, replaced by a brand new expanse of darkness. The only light, a muddled one, seemed to emanate from the onyx like crystal of the platform you found yourself on. The sharp edge circled around you, dropping away into a bottomless abyss.

You shouldn’t have been able to see as you stood - nothing about it was natural, but you could. You wavered as you got to your feet, barely managing to keep your balance.

Like someone flipping a switch, two more platforms identical to yours appeared in front of you. Together, all three platforms made a triangle, the apex of which was you.

On the right column, Sehun stood tall. He smiled at you dotingly.

On the left, Kai was still getting to his feet. He looked around in confusion.

‘Where – where are we?’ he said, tripping over his words.

‘This is her real mind, beyond the small shelter that she made for us to live in,’ Sehun said, glancing between you and Kai. ‘This is also how we’re going to solve things.’ He spoke slowly, his voice pondering over his words purposefully, like how wind plays in the branches of a single tree for an entire day.

‘Solve things?’ you said. ‘You can rescue us, Sehun! Rebecca said that you’re our only way out!’

‘She’s right,’ he said. He exhaled loudly, and his shoulders sagged briefly with an unknown weight before he picked himself up. ‘But not in the way that you think.’ Sehun paused and took a deep breath.

‘What’s your plan?’ Kai said. He stood tall and ready, his shoulders broad.

‘You’ve been so strong,’ said Sehun. His eyes met yours across the chasm. ‘You’ve carried us both with you this far, even when you were never built for it.’

His tone set off alarms in your head.

‘Sehun - ‘ you started, but he waved you down.

‘You don’t have to be strong now,’ he said. ‘We’ll be strong for you.’

‘What’s the plan?’ Kai repeated.

‘Your power,’ Sehun said. ‘You can teleport both of you far away from that lab.’

‘Have you seen where I am right now?’ Kai said. ‘It’s impossible. I might as well be powerless.’ You could still hear the resentment and deep anger that set in his throat.

Sehun’s eyes never left your frame, even as he spoke to Kai.

‘Because you’re weakened and you’re at half power. Your full strength could get you out of a locked box,’ he said.

‘Sehun,’ you said again. But he didn’t stop.

‘You’ve never had full strength before,’ he continued. ‘You wouldn’t have to fight for your physical form. You could be with her all the time like you want. You could be there for her, Kai.’

You didn’t like where this was going.

Sehun finally turned his words to you. His eyes changed, rounding.

‘You were never meant to sustain both of us. It would be cruel of me to ask you to choose, to make you split your heart in two the way it’s divided right now,’ he said. Sehun took a long step backwards. His steady gaze never left you. ‘You love him, I know that.’

‘You know – you know that I love you too!’ you said loudly, almost yelling across at him. But Sehun didn’t listen, taking another step back.

‘But not in the same way. There’s a deep fire in your heart, something untamed that I’ve never been able to reach, but something that Kai seems to have made his home,’ he said. His voice was even, but his expression betrayed it. ‘You belong with him. He needs you, and you need him.’

‘Sehun, what are you saying?’ Your voice almost rose into a screech, your heart starting to race. Please, please, no, you thought desperately.

‘I’m saying goodbye.’ He looked at Kai, finally turning his head. ‘Please, take good care of her.’

‘Sehun, no!’ you screamed, your voice tearing your larynx anew.

‘It’s okay,’ he said calmly. He stepped back again. He stood at the very edge of the platform now. ‘It was always going to be one of us, I think. At least this is better this way.’

‘How can you say that?’

There was a soft pop and Kai’s strong arms surrounded you, his heart beating against your ear. He buried his nose in your hair, murmuring ‘It’s ok, it’s ok,’ in a cycle. But he held you tightly, lending you his strength.

Your heart felt like it was going to tear itself from your chest. Your breathing came in ragged stretches of pain as you refused to believe everything that your senses were telling you.

‘Everything will be alright, I promise,’ Sehun said. ‘You’ll forget about me soon – you’ll be happy together.’

‘I could – I could never forget you,’ you said. Your heart pounded in your chest, threatening to burst out of your body. But it was too late.

Sehun took one last step. He smiled at you sadly as he fell backwards.

You screamed and almost dove in after him, but Kai, tears of his own streaming down his face, held you back. He pinned you to his chest, tumbling back to help anchor you to himself.

You watched in horror as Sehun disappeared into the darkness of the chasm.

Ice filled your veins and you gave up trying to fight and tangled yourself around Kai.

Sehun.

He really was gone. An actual part of you, Sehun was the fibre that kept you wound together, he kept you from falling apart and now that was gone. He was gone. What was he thinking? Why would he do that? Why would he leave you like that?

Your heart broke into tiny pieces as you felt the sharp emptiness he left behind. You screamed and screamed until you had nothing left. Then you simply screamed away what was left behind, crying harder than you had ever known. Kai was the only thing keeping you upright through all the anguish.

You looked up at him. Your throat felt heavy with the sobs that you didn’t have the energy for. You were drained, broken from the inside in his arms.

Kai leaned down to hold you tighter, your nose flattening against his cheek. You closed your eyes, leaning against him and letting yourself be immersed in him.

‘We can’t stay here,’ he said softly. His voice rose to little more than a whisper, his intentions hampered by the emotional devastation you were both going through. ‘I’m – you’re going to wake up, and then – then I’m going to save you.’

The dynamic you had become accustomed to suddenly shifted, the familiar paradigm gone.

You pulled back far enough to meet Kai’s eyes. Though tears stained his bronze cheeks, his gaze remained steady. The turbulent storm of resistance was gone, but a flicker of power still flashed like a bolt of lightning in the depths of his sight.

‘Are you sure?’ You still sounded far away from yourself.

Kai nodded.

‘Can you feel it?’ he said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

You did the same, and you could feel it too. In the absence of Sehun, Kai absorbed all the capacity for power that was left behind. He brimmed with it, his skin humming with a tension ready to be released. Like a storm on the horizon.

‘Let’s go,’ he said resolutely.

You fell against him, eyes closed, ready to let go of this secret space within yourself. It was no longer of any use to you. You inhaled once and the next time your eyes opened, you found yourself on the cold carpet of the observation room.

Rebecca hovered over you with deep concern, calling you back from the edge of unconsciousness by repeating your name continuously.

You groaned, pushing yourself up to sitting.

Everything here seemed surreal, fuzzy, distant – as if what had happened in the cavern, within yourself was your actual reality, and this – this was some cheap imitation of it.

‘What happened?’ you said. Your throat scratched as you spoke, like you had been screaming out here too.

‘You passed out cold,’ Rebecca said. She motioned downward through the floor to the exam room below. ‘He did too.’

You scrambled to your feet, clinging desperately to the windowsill for balance. Kai, where was Kai?

Your vision came into focus in spite of your head still spinning violently. Your stomach lurched precariously in its new upright position, but you couldn’t let yourself be sick now.

Kai on the table below still lay lifeless, his fight snuffed out.

‘That’s enough for now,’ Dr. Bill said. ‘We’ll pick this up again tomorrow. Take him back to the cell.’

The orderlies began to unravel the thick restraints that held Kai fast to the table.

You watched him carefully, waiting for him to give a sign that the plan was in motion. There was nothing.

Kai’s head fell to the side over the orderly’s arm, like a ragdoll, as he was lifted from the table and placed back into the wheelchair. He didn’t stir, didn’t move – he gave no sign of life. You couldn’t stop yourself from trying to figure out what was wrong. Your mind puzzled and raced.

But still nothing happened.

You only blinked, and Kai was being wheeled away.

Rebecca placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

‘I’d better get you back to your room. I’m so sorry that you had to see that,’ she said honestly. Deep wrinkles of worry lined her face. ‘I’m sorry – I’m sorry that you had to go through that.’

With every step back through the sickeningly clean hallways of the facility, your thoughts and your worries sunk in. In fact, you wondered at how you were still standing upright. What was the point anymore?

You felt as if you were lumbering down the hallway instead of simply walking. Every step was a clash of opposing wills inside of you. You had lost Sehun, you didn’t know where Kai was or if he was okay. You could give in and just play your designated role – designer mutant, test tube baby. Patient batch whatever it was.

Kai.

He was the point. You thought fondly of him holding you, of his confession before, of his urgent desire to have you in his arms. Above all else, his steady, unfailing love for you. You had to be strong at least for him.

But Sehun. He was gone.

He had been brave beyond anything you could ever have expected, and his measure of self-sacrifice deserved that at the least you would try to fight your way out. Even if you had to scratch and claw your way to the door, you would try. For Sehun.

There were of these things that you expected of yourself, and yet everything inside of you wanted nothing more than to let go and collapse on the floor. Every muscle begged you to give up, to stop trying. Even without the torturous electric current that had been applied to you, you had never felt closer to death.

When you got back to your room, the sun was setting low behind the hedge of the garden. It was the end of another day, but it felt like the ending of a lot more than that.

You sat on the end of your bed listlessly. You waited, but you didn’t know what for.

Rebecca said goodbye kindly at one point, but you didn’t acknowledge her. You just stared out the window.

The world outside your tiny room continued to turn and revolve around the sun, while inside it felt like everything had come to a crashing halt. The cold truth was that it wasn’t going to stop for you, no matter what devastation was inflicted underneath its layers of atmosphere. That’s what the universe did. It continued on – simply existing.

The sun had disappeared beyond the horizon when you collapsed backwards to stretch out on the bed. Everything seemed even more surreal than they had in your dreamscape. You tried not to think of that, but it was hard.

Sehun. How was he really gone? You struggled to understand, but it was beyond you. You laid back and waited to sink beneath it all. It was too much.

The ghost of Sehun’s kiss fluttered across your lips, his low hushed confession whispering in your ears. The memory of his soft breath across your skin was more real than anything else on this plane of existence. Your eyes closed to replay it, hot tears streaking down your cheeks.

Remembering felt so real, the warmth and softness of the contact was also healing in small fractions the fissures that had so obliterated your heart.

When you opened your eyes, it was to see Kai leaning over you, his lips pressed to yours. His own eyes were shut tightly as his own tears fell. His fingers were buried in your hair. He pulled back and exhaled heavily.

‘Kai?’ you heard yourself squeak, your voice rusty from misuse.

‘I’m here,’ he said softly. He sniffled as he opened his eyes and finally looked down at you. ‘I’m here and I’m never leaving you, ok?’ Kai curled downwards fully into your arms. The two of you tangled around each other, clinging the last shreds of each other’s worlds.

The full strength and heat of his body was astonishing. You didn’t have to put anything thought or effort into his physicality. Kai was simply already fleshed out naturally. Effortlessly. His skin buzzed with a renewed power that hadn’t been there before.

You sniffled back some of your mess, leaning back to look up at him. You brushed back some of the white mess that his forelock had become.

‘How – how did you even get in here?’ you wondered out loud.

‘S- he was right,’ Kai said quietly. ‘I was still strapped to that chair, but it didn’t change anything. It couldn’t stop me from teleporting out of it and here to you.’

He sat up suddenly and looked around.

‘We need to get out of here,’ he said. His voice carried an urgent note that you couldn’t ignore. ‘Let’s go.’ Kai stood.

You saw that someone had made sure that he had been dressed more appropriately. He was covered in a full set of pajamas, even if they did have the Kratz Labs logo on them like yours did.

‘Where should we go?’ you said. His large hands enveloped yours and pulled you to your feet.

Kai moved so that your arms twisted around his waist, clinging to him tightly.

‘Home?’ he said, pausing his motion.

‘How do we know they won’t find us there? We can’t go home,’ you said. Your throat twisted around another sob. You were tired of this, but the hits just kept coming regardless. ‘I don’t know – I don’t know where to go!’

‘It’s okay,’ Kai said. He hushed you sweetly and calmly. ‘We’ll be home for each other. We can go back to pack and then it doesn’t matter where we go. Hold on, ok?’

You nodded and tucked yourself against his chest. You braced for the odd sickening sensation that was being teleported with Kai. There was a soft pop. When you opened your eyes again, you were greeted by the smell of butter and the whirr of soda machines. You sent Kai a huge question with one look.

‘The movie theater?’ you said. You wanted to raise a playful eyebrow, but your face refused to move into any expression on the cheerful end. The loss was still too new. You were still too numb.

‘I have good memories here,’ he said softly. Kai smiled weakly and leaned his forehead against yours. He pulled away, taking your hand. He led you into one of the theaters, choosing one in which the movie had just started playing, and brought you to the dark corner of the last row. Kai guided you down into the large seats. He became a barrier between you and the wall, turning himself to the side.

The darkness of the cinema was welcome in comparison to the jarring ceiling lights of the lab building. It felt like you could finally hide, like you had at last found shelter.

Kai held you close against himself.

The soundtrack from the film blasted through the speakers surrounding you, but you were safe in this secret place. You endured, your senses thick with numbness and shock.

The hours passed and the film progressed. You used the time to lie low, hiding in the cool, unmoving audience of the cinema.

When it was time, you clung to Kai again as he brought the both of you to your apartment. No words were exchanged between you as you gathered your things.

Kai shoved his favourite clothing items into his own bag roughly. He watched numbly as you stripped the laboratory pajamas off and exchanged them for your own clothing.

‘You’re too thin,’ he said with a mumble. His hands skated down your ribs, lamenting what you had endured.

He moved to remove his own threadbare clothing.

You gasped and reached for him when you saw what lay underneath.

Kai’s chest and sides were littered with dark bruises and deep scrapes. He winced as you traced the wounds delicately.

He had suffered all this, enduring violence and hatred for your sake.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Kai said meekly. You shook your head and leaned up to kiss his cheek.

He held still while you helped him pull a clean t-shirt over his head. He bit his lip and tried uselessly to hold back the small hiss he made as you gently helped him change into a fresh set of jeans. Kai looked at you softly when you were done and brought you back into his embrace.

The gentle quiet was what you needed, and you took a deep breath of his scent. The warm honey and spice welcomed you like you had never left. But even Kai’s heartbeat lulling you quietly could not beat back the waves of grief that came for you. The safety net of shock snapped and gave way. You collided into his chest, copious tears starting.

You cried like you had never cried before, your body shaking. It was painful beyond comparison, as if someone were standing on your chest. Your lungs fought for air, and you struggled for every breath.

Sehun had sacrificed himself to ensure your survival. You had nowhere to go right now and nothing left to do. You had to face down the fact of his loss, but it was a giant of an enemy, like a great boulder tugging you down underneath the surface of coping.

With tears of his own, Kai held you tightly. He was still and quiet, not complaining or shifting or huffing. He had become the rock that you could crash against, the safety net at the bottom of the cliff. You existed, your body wringing out your sorrow and hurt in his arms until there was nothing left.

‘Full house,’ he said softly.

You sniffled and looked up at him curiously.

‘The poker game. I promised him I’d take care of you, and I’m not ever going back on that,’ said Kai. His expression was brimming with determination, even as he gazed down at you tenderly. ‘I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. I’ll – I’ll always love you.’

The abruptness of your loss had cast a severe shadow over what you already had – what was already in front of you. Everything that you still had. In the war for your freedom and your own identity, Kai had become the security you needed and the safety that you sought.

Your chest burned as you took a deep breath and nodded. A fresh set of tears brimmed over your eyes, streaming down your cheeks.

‘Y-you know-‘ you began, but the words got stuck behind the lumps in your throat.

His lips closed gently over yours in a chaste, momentary kiss. He retreated and smiled at you sadly.

‘I know,’ Kai said.

END

Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Four (B) | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten

A/N: Thank you to everyone who kept up with this series to its completion - your support and encouragement has been invaluable!