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unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years

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pls write this canon divergence if you can

"cassian finds out that nesta went to find feyre when she was still a human. that's how strong and brave her mate is"

Ok so I’m going to call this like a mini slice of life. Just a quick headcannon that spilled out from the prompt. Enjoy!

“Do you believe in fate?” Cassian asked his mate offhandedly one lazy morning. His fingers trailed slowly down the curve of her waist, skin glistening with an incredibly thin sheen of sweat from the activities they had just finished.

Cassian wasn’t exactly sure why he asked the question. She had him pondering the divine, he supposed. Nesta was always beautiful, but holding her hips as the sun started to rise behind her, golden light dancing through strands of honey brown hair while her head fell back in pleasure… that was an experience Cassian would not soon forget. He wanted to capture every moment with her. Not in a painting like Feyre did, but a living, breathing memory that he could pluck out of his mind and relive at a second’s notice.

Nesta lifted her head up off of his chest for a second, brows drawn together. “Isn’t that what being mates is?”

Cassian shook his head. “I’ve never thought of it that way. It’s a magical bond, and I suppose it is pre determined, but I don’t think that it is fate on its own. Fate, I suppose, is when 2 people who are mated were actually made for each other, beyond a power-hungry cauldron’s desire to create stronger Fae.”

Nesta scrunched up her nose. She still had a strong reaction to any mention of the cauldron. He still didn’t blame her.

“I suppose I have to believe in fate then,” Nesta said quietly. In a soft, careful voice that only he ever heard.

Cassian tightened his grip on her waist, pulling his mate even tighter against his chest. As if he could drag her into him, wrap them both entirely and inseparably between those golden threads that sung between their souls.

“I do believe in fate,” Nesta repeated, more awake and sure now. “When I was human, the wall wouldn’t let me in to Prythian even though I found the gaps. I Could physically see them, but there was still a barrier. Not magic, but something… more visceral. Like it was telling me it wasn’t time yet.” Nesta shrugged. “I probably would have died if I’d made it through and then who knows… maybe the whole war would be different.”

Cassian turned quickly to properly look at his mate, shifting her ever so slightly. His muscles tensed up at her words, the very idea that he might have lost his mate before he ever met her. But something more pressing needled at him. “Why would you have tried to enter Prythian as a human? You hated the Fae.”

Nesta rose a brow. “Feyre didn’t tell you?” Cassian shook his head. “I hired a mercenary and went the morning after Feyre did.” Nesta shook her head. “I should have gone right away. I lost my sister over a few hours of cowardice.”

“What changed in those hours?” Cassian blinked, still not entirely over his shock.

Nesta shifted her gaze over his shoulder. “I knew Tamlin was a beast, but Feyre… she was used to beasts. She’d never met one she couldn’t take down. But then my father and Elain were completely enchanted. And that… pretty words and the power to make things seem better than they were. That has always been Feyre’s weakness.”

“And the one thing that would never fool you,” Cassian’s fingers returned their soft caressing of Nesta’s body, this time focusing on her lower back.

Nesta keened into his touch. He loved to see her like this, the way she only was with him. A sated lioness purring into his touch.

“I wasn’t even surprised when Feyre came back and told me she had fallen in love with the beast. She was always optimistic like that. Not like Elain, openly sighing and dreaming about glittering ballrooms and handsome princes. Feyre craved a whirlwind, magical, experience, but she would never admit it.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Cassian murmured.

“I have never craved a magical whirlwind,” Nesta scoffed lightly. “My resistance was genuine. Feyre’s never was.”

“Lucky me,” Cassian bumped her nose with his own.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t love the challenge.”

“I loved every second of it,” Cassian smiled against her skin, lips trailing down the curve of her neck.

“Liar.”

“Alright,” Cassian acquiesced, “I loved most of it.”

“Hmm,” Nesta hummed.

Cassian’s hands moved up to tangle in the still-mussed strands of Nesta’s hair. “You’re incredible.” He could feel her tense under his palms, lips about to part in protest. Cassian quickly moved his mouth forward to kiss her before she could do so. “You are incredible, Nes. I’m more in awe of you every day. You are beautiful,” he kissed her. “You are brilliant,” another kiss. “You are powerful.” Nesta laughed a little against his lips this time. “Compassionate.” Cassian moved to simply speaking against her lips instead of separating. “Brave.”

“Can I get you a dictionary?” Nesta smiled.

“I’m serious. I didn’t know… I was wrong. What I said to you when we first met. You went into the woods, fully prepared to face Prythian alone, armed with nothing but an iron will and a stare that could kill-”

“It was enough to scare an entire Illyrian camp,” Nesta gave him a little taste of her signature glare.

“Those Spring Court idiots wouldn’t have stood a chance,” Cassian agreed. “But my point is that every time I think you can’t possibly amaze me more, you prove me wrong.”

“You should be used to being wrong at this point,” Nesta buried here head in Cassian’s chest.

He just smiled, running his hand through her hair. She was trying to avoid his compliments, and that was ok. He’d just have to keep finding new things to praise her for until she learned how to accept how incredible she was.

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian fanfiction #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #nesta and cassian #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar

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governmentintelligence · 3 years

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Hypothermia (happy birthday winter!!!!)

A/N: happy birthday @winterpower98!!!!! i made you angst :)

i saw all your notes from white tang au and honestly??? fucking love the vibes. i didn't do much with the Plot but i hope you still enjoy it :>

WARNINGS: hypothermia, it is cold, derealization/dissociation, choking, threatened murder/suicide, implied murder, implied blood, no happy ending

Words: 4041

enjoy!! <3

There were a lot of downsides to possession, but the one that Tang had expected the least was the cold.

That might also not be a fair description of the problem. He hadn’t expected to be possessed. No one ever expects to get possessed. Given the concept, though, he had some preconceived ideas of what possession would entail. A lot of them were more hands-on, like the visceral dissonance from physical form that came with watching his body move of its own accord. That was something he imagined when he thought of being possessed.

It was still striking, but it was something he’d expected, at least.

He hadn’t expected how numb he’d feel. How little and how insignificant it would feel to be sequestered away into his own head.

He hadn’t thought that she would invade his mind in the same way, echoing his own voice back at him. She perfectly mimicked his voice, his tones, his speaking cadence, such that even he couldn’t tell her apart on most days.

They would drudge up to the mirror in the morning, and Tang would stare into his ice blue eyes and have to convince himself that they weren’t always that color. Most days, he imagined himself staring at a stranger. Some days, he wouldn’t even be able to focus on his reflection. Those were the days he felt the most cold.

Mild Hypothermia Symptoms include shivering, increased heart rate, and mental confusion. Patient may seem dazed and unsure of themselves.

The Lady Bone Demon had been masquerading as a young girl, trying to find books at the library. In retrospect, it may have been on the nose for her to have been looking for a book on Dyatlov Pass. It was almost like a double emphasis on the ice theming, to be looking for another incident of people succumbing to the cold. Maybe even foreshadowing. Tang’s always been fond of stories.

The library was sprawling large. Tang had offered to help her find it. The library is quiet most days, so it wasn’t like he was busy.

He stopped by the shelves and, when he turned to direct her to the proper book, was struck by a gust of wind. It burned his throat like smoke, yet settled in his chest cold as ice, freezing from the inside out. The girl had just stood there, smiling coyly, knowingly.

Tang wasn’t sure what happened specifically after that, even if it had happened at all, because his memory picked back up with him walking to the help desk.

From there, it was a little spotty. He’d gone to sit at the help desk and found himself sitting down at his usual counter spotat Pigsy’s Noodles. Pigsy was sharp, much sharper than people give him credit for. Nothing could ever sneak past his snout, not MK’s poor sleep schedule and not Tang’s distant stare.

He could remember Pigsy asking if he was okay. Tang wasn’t very sure what he replied with, but he did remember that Pigsy’s banter was much softer afterward. He likely just thought Tang was tired. It was rare that he’d be this tired after work, maybe it was worrying. He didn’t know.

He couldn’t think, his head was so, so cold.

He’d wanted to bring it up, after the first day or two or three. He couldn’t keep track. Tang had definitely tried to tell Pigsy, though, at some point. Only to hear a voice in his head, and be unable to open his lips. His throat had tightened, too, like something was choking him. The ice burned.

Don’t speak, it told him. She, she told him.

That’s absurd, he’d thought back. He speaks a lot, thank you very much, and no two-bit voice in his head was going to tell him otherwise.

And yet, it did. He could just barely open his mouth, but no sound, no air, escaped.

Slowly, he’d just slurped more noodles, watching Pigsy’s back as he cooked. After a moment, once the thought to tell Pigsy had passed, so did his throat’s constriction. Tang was too dazed to try it again.

In hindsight, he should have. If only he’d kept pushing more, fought more, then maybe he would have gotten Pigsy’s attention before it was too late.

He’d been sleeping on the couch for the past few days, another idea that had settled in his head and he was too tired to fight against. His brain felt sluggish, as if trying to move through a storm, trudging ever forward against a wind that threatened to topple him. There was something warm wrapped around his back, glowing gold just out of the corner of his eye when he wasn’t paying attention, though Tang wasn’t sure what that was. He didn’t know enough about this soul magic to be able to identify it. Where would he have learned?

MK would probably know what was going on. He tried to tell MK, too, tried to signal that something was happening. He couldn’t remember if this was before or after he’d tried to tell Pigsy, but the same thing had happened. Tang’s throat had closed up and he’d been directed to eat once again. He had no choice other than to oblige.

His body wasn’t connected to him. It belonged to that voice he’d heard whisper to him. It was the young girl’s voice, at the library, but come now. Tang knew she wasn’t a random person. Perhaps she’d looked for him.

Perhaps she knew MK and was using Tang. It was morbid, but he would make a pretty good meat shield.

The first time that thought crossed his mind, he’d heard her laugh, a soft chuckle that was all too foreboding, and he’d known exactly what her plan was. It was before the cold set in fully, before his hands numbed beyond his recognition. He still had some control. But it was all too weak. His hands shook, so he hid them in his own sleeves, holding each other for warmth and because doing anything else would get her to hold him down.

Over time, it did feel more physical. He couldn’t move his body, not when he wanted to move it, but he could feel things being done to him. Felt Pigsy pat his back sympathetically when he’d explained that he was coming down with a cold, didn’t want to get him sick, too, so he’d sleep on the sofa.

She never introduced herself, not truly, but after long enough, Tang recognized her from legend. If it fed her ego, she didn’t acknowledge. But it was good to know who he was imprisoned by.

He felt phantom feelings, if that was even a possible thing. In his mind’s eye, when he wasn’t focused, he could see white shackles on his wrists. A glowing blue crack over his chest. But as soon as Tang tried to focus on what he was seeing, it would disappear.

Moderate Hypothermia Shivering will cease, though it will be replaced with increased mental confusion, slurred speech, and loss of fine motor skills. Confusion will include amnesia and slowed thought process.

“Hey,” Pigsy’s voice rattles him, gruff and angrier than he’d ever heard.

Tang feels his head lift. Now that he wasn’t actively fighting back at all times, he’d been allowed to feel his body’s movements. It was like the cold had solidified. Attempting to move his limps was impossible, but he could see his own body move, see his hand reach up to hold the underside of his own chin in a casual manner.

It was tiring. He wanted to doze off, but everyone knows sleeping in a snow storm spells death.

“Hey yourself,” he can hear himself speak, too, which was something he’d found he couldn’t do anymore.

“Who are you.”

The sentence hits Tang rough, the venom in Pigsy’s voice dripping, covered in anger, maybe even hurt. It was enough of a rattle to catch his attention, give him something to focus on.

Fiery anger. He cups the warmth and tries to focus.

His face shifts, eyebrow quirking up in an unimpressed, surprised look that he wasn’t making himself. He knew he couldn’t, this wasn’t his body anymore. Tang was just trapped, watching someone else, this demon, Lady Bone Demon, lift his limbs and walk him around.

It made him feel hopeful, almost grateful, that Pigsy had recognized the difference. A twinge of cold struck him over the reminder that he was a week late, maybe even longer, but, still, he was so thankful that someone noticed. And it warmed his heart ever so slightly to think that it was Pigsy who did.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tang’s voice says.

“You know damn well,” Pigsy growls back, and it was foolish of him to doubt Pigsy, to worry that he wouldn’t be able to help, to worry that it would be too late. “What’d you do to Tang and who the fuck are you.”

His head tilts again. “Well, aren’t you sharper than you used to be.”

Used to be? Tang doesn’t understand what the Lady Bone Demon is saying, but he knows it rattles Pigsy, because his eyes widen. His arms, which had been crossed at the confrontation, slowly lower. He’s scared.

Why would Pigsy be scared? Does he know this demon? How would he? Tang is confused by this reaction, watching with mounting anxiety. If his heart could race, he knew it would be racing right now.

Pigsy could get help from MK, and if he couldn’t help, then MK could get the Monkey King. There were multiple avenues to get help here.

“What’s wrong, Bajie. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” are the words that Tang hears himself say, and they surprise him most of all.

Tang recognized Lady Bone Demon, after some time. He’d known what she was, where her origins lay in the stories he’d been told, thrived in, repeated himself. He wasn’t ignorant of her. So he knew this was quite the situation. He didn’t know exactly what she was doing with him but, given her antagonistic relationship to the Monkey King, Tang could make some assumptions. Probably some way to watch MK. Maybe watch the Monkey King himself.

Never in his fucking life did he expect Pigsy to get called Bajie.

As in, Zhu Bajie? Pigsy was that Bajie? There was surely no way.

Until Pigsy flinched, answered to a name that Tang only knew from legends. Snapped back at her in acknowledgement of the name.

What the fuck do you mean he was in a complicated relationship with Zhu Bajie.

She laughs, with his mouth, his voice, and Tang doesn’t know if she’s laughing at him or at the panic in Pigsy’s (Bajie? That’s fucking Bajie?) face. How convoluted.

Tang is kept warm with the tangled threads of confusion over these new revelations, which is probably to her benefit. She continues to use his mouth to talk to Pigsy, Bajie, apparently, and he turns inward. A slight cloak of warmth keeps his consciousness guarded, and at least his troubled confusion was something he could think about, rather than the gnawing cold.

How had he never noticed? It made more sense that Pigsy wouldn’t tell, he probably had things to preserve and to hide, if it were true. But how had something that large just….slipped past him? He should have noticed. He’d studied the journey’s legends front and back, hell, he’d recited so many of the stories to MK from pure memory. And yet he’d spent the past few years sharing a bed with one of the heroes from his stories.

That was something that Tang could focus on, at least. He wasn’t very interesting to the demon wearing his body, and thus she didn’t humor him with her attention. It turned out to be something almost in his favor, given how his mind had been completely detached from his body, watching and listening and feeling things but never being able to act upon them. Better than to have her focus, lest she turn his anger onto him.

It was nice to have something to think about that wasn’t the revulsion of watching himself as if in a dream, unable to do anything himself. In his mind’s eye, he had no limbs, nothing to move, nothing to do. He did his best to be unassuming to her.

At least thinking back on every interaction he’d ever had with Pigsy was giving his brain something to focus on. Maybe too much.

Remembering and living in memory gave him a good distraction from seeing how she was using his body to treat Pigsy, too. Whenever he was cognizant of it, Tang would notice what he was saying, the sharpness of her words. She’d purred, once, that the human body could only go so long without eating, and in that moment he’d felt the visceral hunger of his body.

He’d forgotten how long he’d been kept out, and he didn’t know how long it had been since he’d eaten. Had water. Even slept. He, in his mind, was sleeping. All the time, actually. But when he became cognizant of it, focusing on how his body felt, he realized exactly how exhausted he was. She was wearing him into the ground.

It was also probably beneficial for her, to have him distance himself from the pain of existing in his body. He could do nothing other than feel how it felt to be in his body, and Tang didn’t want to exist just for him to feel how painful it was to be starved, cold, dehydrated, and exhausted.

In a small act of rebellion, though, he paid attention to when Pigsy would care for him. Pigsy sets out a bowl of noodles, glare stifled by MK and Mei’s presence, posture stiff with unforgiving, unrelenting anger. And Tang’s body leans over the noodles in a quick, lurching motion. Because he is hungry. And the food is familiar. Is warm. There’s nothing like his favorite noodles when he hasn’t eaten. She’s silent for once as she picks up the chopsticks with his fingers.

Tang doesn’t know if he made the motion or if she did, to be honest. He is hungry and he craves the food set before him, but he isn’t a fool to think that he would be allowed to move.

While Tang eats, or, rather, she eats with his body, Tang is acutely aware of how Pigsy watches. There’s something in his gaze, as if he’s unsure of something, trying to correlate the action to the person he knows is there. Tang knows he’s smart. He trusts Pigsy with his entire life. If anyone can tell who makes the motion, it must be Pigsy, even if Tang himself doesn’t know.

Maybe that’s her plan. Maybe it’s beneficial, for her, to have Pigsy on the edge of his seat, recognizing Tang as trapped in his own body. It’s the hope of him still existing.

Maybe it’s cruel, to want to signal to Pigsy that he is, indeed, doing his best to exist. But he wants to. He needs Pigsy to know he’s trying to stay conscious. He hasn’t given up. He won’t. He’s fighting a losing battle, but he won’t.

He wonders if his body could live if not maintained, inhabited by a demon. He would very much like to not know if that was possible.

Tang doesn’t know if he makes sense, even to himself. His brain feels so fast and so slow. His thoughts race into each other and create nothing. At the very least, it keeps him awake and alert, but it does nothing to help his circumstances. He doesn’t know if it’s possible for him to do anything.

It’s impossible for him to do anything, she warns him. Her voice is cold, frost growing at the tips of his ears. His body feels like a snowglobe. Trapped and on display and invisible, all at the same time.

You’re never getting out, she whispers to him. He tries not to believe her.

Severe Hypothermia Respiratory and heart rates will continue to decrease. Patient’s skin will be cold and inflamed, and mental confusion delves into hallucinations and increased combative state. The body tricks itself into thinking the cold has given way to warmth.

Days. Weeks. Maybe a month, even. Multiple months. A year?

Tang doesn’t have a method to keep track of time.

He sees his body age in the mirror every morning, but he doesn’t know if it’s the passage of time or exhaustion. She plucks a hair from his head, turning it over on close inspection, and he sees that it’s white. A white hair.

Is he just growing old, or is he cold?

The Lady scoffs, tossing it into the bin, and he watches her turn around from the mirror. Then, he reminds himself that he cannot allow himself to leave his perspective. He has to keep track of what she does with his body through his own eyes. It’s a little difficult. She must have gotten rid of his glasses because everything is just slightly out of focus, too far away.

Pigsy keeps him alive. Tang doesn’t know if he should be calling him Bajie or Pigsy and it’s not like he’s going to ever get the chance to ask, so in his mind, he calls him Pigsy. That’s the name that slot comfortably into his mind, which conjures a figure of the familiar, like a hearth. He holds the thoughts and tries so hard not to let go.

It’s still hard to follow what happens. His consciousness does waver, blinking in and out like a dying light. He rallies against the cold, tries to tug at whatever it is in the corners of his eyes that glow with warmth, keep him the barest alive.

He knows she’s cruel to Pigsy, in his body. She sleeps in the same bed as him, holds him at night, gives him a kiss on the forehead in the morning. Tang wishes he could be as mad about this as he should be, but he can’t bring himself to feel moth other than tired. He wishes he could feel what it would be like to hold Pigsy like that. She’d long stopped letting him experience the outside world at all, even the edges of his vision blurred with the loss of his glasses and the cold burning his senses.

She tells Pigsy, one day, that Tang loved him. That it was a shame he never worked up the courage to tell him. Won’t get the chance, anymore.

Tang doesn’t catch his reaction, but he hopes Pigsy knows that he still does love him. There’s little left of him but he does.

The demon attacks keep happening, he keeps following MK with Pigsy. Sometimes Tang is cognizant of the damage and the barrage of violence. Other times, he keeps drifting, trying to stay alert while everything grows numb. His motivation and energy pulsates, though he can feel it growing weaker.

Something keeps him from fading completely, a warm buzz of strength at his more dire times that reminds him he has so many reasons to keep focused, keep alert.

He catches MK’s expression once. He doesn’t remember the context, or why, but his eyes were glowing. The Monkey King had taught him that, once. It allowed MK to see through the surrounding world, could see the souls of the people around them.

He sees me, she confessed to Tang. Much less a confession, actually, and much more a statement of truth. Maybe even haughty. Proud.

The jig was up, then. It had to be. Another pang of hope through his chest, just like when Pigsy had noticed.

Hope is warm enough to coat himself in, but it doesn’t stop the temporal dissonance, and Tang tries to focus once more. He’s seated at the bar of Pigsy’s Noodles, as he always is. MK is nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps MK noticing was only a dream. He’s been doing that, thinking up scenarios that had never happened. There was little else to do to keep his focus, because if he saw too much through his own eyes, he would grow sick of himself.

She liked to see his disgust at what she’d made his hands do, covered in blood every so often. He could have killed. She could have killed, with his body. He couldn’t remember if that was true, too, or just another hallucination. Another thing his brain thought up to try and keep him alert, as fake as it was.

Tang assumed this was another day. Just another day, easy enough to drift off once more. Conserve his energy. Keep trying to stay present. Or conserve his energy. A difficult decision, really, but the only one he’s had to make over and over.

Until a hand, a clawed paw, grabs his shoulder and whips him around. Tang’s body is yanked up and forced back. He hears a snarl of anger from his assailant, sharper than most sounds he’s heard lately, and in a visceral moment Tang realizes that he’s been pushed into the forefront once more.

For the first time in a long, long while, Tang feels the sharp slam too forcefully against the countertop. His mind screams out in shock, surprise as the tremor and pain at the motion. She hadn’t let him feel in so long that it might have been a mercy, to feel something so human as pain.

Outwardly, he can only feel his face fall into a smirk as she stares down at the Monkey King.

“Get out. Now,” the Monkey King’s voice is dark, threatening, teeth bared.

“Or? You’ll kill me?” Tang hates how confident the Lady sounds in his voice, like she were meant to wear it. “You’re welcome to try.”

It sounds distant from his own. Is that always how his voice has sounded?

“But you’ll have to get through my host first.” She keeps talking with his voice and the more Tang hears, the more he doesn’t recognize it. “And I don’t think your brother and his kid will be happy with that.”

She lifted his arms behind his head, casually leaning against the wall besides the counter. He wonders if it’s a natural pose with his body. It doesn’t feel natural to him, now that he’s feeling it. His shoulders feel stiff. Everything feels stiff, actually.

Everything feels cold, too. Why is he so cold?

The Monkey King glares, but the expression dulls, fades over the span of a few seconds. He looks shaken, even.

He knows what you are, now, she tells Tang.

Tang doesn’t even know what he is. She laughs at that. In his mind, of course. Right? Tang doesn’t know if he hears the laughter aloud.

Golden warmth wraps his shoulders again, careful and gentle, and he drifts away once again. He wonders if this is the first time his disciple has failed him. Curious, too, is the thought. Since when was the Monkey King his disciple?

Death to Hypothermia Bodily functions continue to slow until patient loses consciousness and, eventually, life.

The knife pressed against his neck was almost warm. It was warmer than anything else Tang had felt in a while.

He couldn’t remember what it was like to breathe. To be awake, himself. All of the days blurred together, distant from his own person as he watched the world move around him, body being puppeteered by his lady.

She liked that. It was deferring in leadership, the acknowledgement that Tang wasn’t in control. Was it giving up?

“Let’s not do anything hasty,” she says to the crowd.

Tang slips back, the frosty snow storm covering his view.

The knife against his neck is so warm, almost warmer than the wings draped around his back, golden glow the only color against the frozen backdrop of his mind. He hadn’t seen them up close, still just out of the corner of his own vision, but she had proudly chided him enough times that Tang knew what they were. What he was.

The Monkey King is scared, her voice purrs to him. I have you.

I have you now.

#fic #my shitty fic #my shitty writing #i forgot which one is the tag lmaooooooo #bad ending #i dont wanna put it in the tags lmaooooo #i hope u enjoy it #i didn't wanna overwrite ur plot #so i didn't do plot stuff #i just explored what it might be like to #you know #be frozen in your own head #love uuuuuu happy birth ur old now

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juniorgman187 · 3 years

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Malchance (Reid Fic) - Part 2

Summary: The only thing reader can count on is her bad luck and what it’ll get her into. In this case, it’s the lioness’ den - the lioness being Cat Adams.

Category: Angst, Fluffy Ending Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: Canon-consistent trauma, brief mention of daddy issues, blood, manipulation, yelling, deceit (Let me know if I missed anything) Playlist: Call Out My Name by The Weeknd Word Count: 5k

READ PART 1 HERE!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

“There’s going to be a key to cracking Cat,” Ms. Prentiss explained to me.

“A key?”

“You’ll know it when you find it.”

That was probably the most ambiguous advice I could’ve gotten, but it’s the one she sent me into the field with and the one that loomed in the back of my head as everything unfolded.

The plan the team and I agreed upon, which ironically Dr. Reid knew no part of, was that after Cat and him went to the rink, they’d come back to his apartment, where I would be waiting. Posing as his concerned girlfriend, the unexpected presence of competition would enrage Cat. With the wrath of a woman scorned, she’ll be furious enough to slip up and make a mistake.

I’ve heard that she’s done her best, or arguably her worst, when she’s prepared, so this curveball might just put an end to the reign of Queen Cat.

As far as the outlined plan of events went, sure, it was simple. As for me?

No shot in hell that I’d be able to pull this off.

There was seemingly no feasible reality where I could outsmart her until she made a mistake or keep on the facade long enough to deceive her. The entire success of the plan hinged on my abilities or her lack of propriety. Not exactly betting odds, if you ask me.

And yet, against everything, I was still walking into the lion’s den on my own volition, making myself right at home, acting like this was exactly where I belonged. When in reality, this was the last place I should’ve been.

“You got this, okay?” Someone in my earpiece chirped. Just out of paranoia, I pressed the device further in, un-tucking the strands of hair behind my ear to better conceal it. Even that wasn’t enough to lower the specter of my doubt. I prayed that she was lax in her vetting tonight.

“Spencie!” A giggly shriek from outside the door sent one large shock wave through my entire body. It was so sharp like they were right there. The sound of heavy footsteps followed, and my stomach churned in anticipation. I already hated this.

How did I even get here?

Oh, right - malchance.

I contemplated cracking my knuckles to self-soothe, but then I remembered what Ms. Prentiss told me about ‘tells.’

“Bodily tells are how people can read the emotions you’re not directly expressing. A majority of what profilers use to study behavior is your body language. Unfortunately, some of the best profilers are the unsubs themselves. She’ll know what you’re feeling if you show her. So stay strong.”

Stay strong.

Try as I might, I couldn’t keep the fear from washing over me when the pair of muffled voices outside became clearer as they entered the apartment.

I must’ve caught them in the middle of something, but I couldn’t exactly deduce what, seeing as they stopped when they saw me, which was before I turned around.

Dr. Reid was floored by my being there, but at least, he had a look of recognition. It wasn’t enough that he merely distinguished me to settle the worry I had about the fact that the BAU hadn’t told him I would be here. If I could, I would have, but they each advised against it. They needed his raw reaction just as much as they needed her’s.

One ghastly look up and down and I could tell she came to the exact conclusion the team anticipated she would - that I’m her new competition.

“Spencie - who is this?”

Her dehumanization of me made Dr. Reid viscerally guilty for having extended an opportunity to let yet another person suffer the corollaries of her cruelty. He shook his head softly at me as though to say, ‘I’m sorry.’ An interesting choice - that that was what he chose to nonverbally say to me first. He didn’t even ask me with his eyes why I was here or what I was doing - he just apologized.

What has this poor man been through?

“I’m his girlfriend,” I answered for him before the silence could get suspiciously long. By inserting myself in the conversation, I was following what the BAU suggested I should do earlier. Stand your ground. You can’t be afraid to speak up to her. “I’m (y/n). You are?”

I held out my hand for a handshake that was never returned. Instead, all I got back was an ice cold stare.

She’s reading your body language, an inner voice I didn’t even recognize called from within me. Soon after I realized it wasn’t my conscience speaking - it was Ms. Prentiss. I’d forgotten I had an earpiece, much less that there were micro cameras littered all over the apartment so they could have a firsthand view of this train wreck. How could anyone voluntarily watch this mess unravel?

“And when did this happen?” Her voice went up an octave as she tilted her head with morbid curiosity, then let it roll back in Dr. Reid’s direction. “Spencer?”

“Five months ago,” he replied without missing a beat, keeping his eyes steady on mine. If I hadn’t known any better, I would’ve believed him, but that stare he was giving me said something more. What’s going on? He wondered.

Oh, Dr. Reid, if only I could tell you.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?” She asked through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Suddenly, the surface of her expressions liquified then melted away until I could see well beneath the anger, revealing the bodily tells of humiliation.

I was profiling her, and I didn’t even know that I could.

“You made me promise not to talk about anyone else except you tonight, remember?” He remarked with an uncharacteristic amount of edge behind his words.

His outer mask was liquefying and transforming in its own right, too. As Cat became easier to read, the Doctor was slowly morphing into the man I first met - the man who was furious enough to throw an entire set of books off a table. The man who’s darkness made him impossible to read - made it impossible to think he’d ever been seen or touched by the light.

She huffed and spun her head around so fast, it made her hair whip up and over her shoulder. The stern look upon her face fell for the briefest moment, and if it hadn’t been for everything I knew about her, I would’ve thought she looked pretty. She was pretty. But her soul, her sensibilities, they just ruined her. It was a shame really.

She was tainted by wickedness in a way that I never would be, and for that, she had already come to the decisive determination that she hated me.

“So how old are you, (y/n)?” Like a hawk hovering over its prey, she began to walk around me in a tight circle so she could scrutinize my every angle, discover every flaw, and poke at every button she could find. Precisely why she asked that question, too. She wanted to know where the similarities started and ended between us. She wanted to compare herself to me. Size me up, tear me down - lioness v. lioness. If she was gonna play dirty, then so be it. Two can play that game.

“I’m 28.” A flat out lie. I’m 26.

“Wow, I didn’t realize you had a type, Spencer,” She ruefully chuckled.

“And what’s that, Cat?” I couldn’t see him, but he sounded so unamused.

“Jailbait.”

There wasn’t much I could do besides move on from the subject. “Cat? Is it?” Considering she hadn’t told me her name before, I think Dr. Reid purposefully included it in his response so that I’d have a reason to know what it was.

Smart move, Doctor.

I wanted to smile from the way he was helping me out and working together with me, but my poker face stayed on.

“Catherine Adams,” She drew out the name to assert herself. I didn’t get to call her Cat like Dr. Reid did. That was his name for her and his name only. She made that point crystal clear. When I finally shrugged, she pounced once more.

“You really have no idea who I am? I’m hurt.” She fake pouted and put a hand to her heart to feign offense. “Spencer’s never mentioned me? Not once in your five months of dating?” Her emphasis on the timing of our ‘relationship’ showed her knowledge of the deceit, but she needed to do more than just put stress on one word. I wouldn’t back down that easily.

“Why would he? You mean nothing to us.” Nastier words have never left my lips, and yet, I still made sure they were coated in the harshest tone I could muster up the courage to use.

She scoffed and stopped walking around me to pull on Dr. Reid’s arm and force her mouth to make contact with his ear. Despite the closeness, he still refused to meet her eyes. He kept them locked on mine.

“I mean nothing to you? Is that so?” Her breath was a jarring enough sensation on his neck to make his eyes shut. He was beyond uncomfortable. “Why don’t you go ahead and tell her what you told me at the rink?”

“What did you tell her, Spencer?” I was forcing him to speak, not because of the case, but because I wanted to know. Was that wrong?

“I …” The words got caught in his throat. “I told her that there’s some part of my brain, some part that she somehow inhabits.”

A pang in my chest told me there was still more. That pang would be correct.

“No, go ahead, Spencie. Tell her the rest. Don’t be shy now.”

He forced himself to look away from me as he said, “And no woman, no matter how good, no matter how kind, no matter how …”

“Say it,” She demanded, firmly tugging on his arm harder.

“No matter how sexy she is, can ever get her out.” He looked repulsed by his own admission, and if I was being honest, so was I.

“Are you in love with her?” Although I was venturing far off script, it felt like an appropriate response as his ‘girlfriend.’ It was my response.

“No. I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved you.”

He’s such a pretty liar.

Cat must’ve been annoyed by her lack of involvement in the conversation as she felt compelled to step in. “Prove it. Kiss her like you kissed me out there and I might believe you.”

Pretending to be hurt wasn’t hard. Not when I didn’t have to pretend.

“You kissed her, too?” I had to ask.

Imagine if I were actually this poor guy’s girlfriend. Forget me - God help that girl. Even if this was all for the sake of the job, that wouldn’t have made it any better hearing what he’d confessed to her or what they did.

Dr. Reid looked incredibly apologetic for someone that had nothing to apologize for. Sure, I was playing his girlfriend, but I wasn’t actually anyone of value in his life. So why did he look like he felt so goddamn guilty?

“Ugh hurry up and kiss already!” Cat stomped her foot impatiently.

As she released Dr. Reid, she gave him a strong shove in my direction, causing him to stumble right into me. He’d caught himself by grabbing onto my hips, while I stabilized him by clutching onto his forearms.

His eyes were piercing through mine. I won’t kiss you unless I have your permission. His eyes read.

Fighting against every reflex in my body that was resisting, I leaned closer. Then, right as I closed my eyes, I felt it.

Not his lips.

Blood.

My blood.

The coin-like taste shocked my eyes wide open so fast you would think I never even closed them in the first place. Abandoning my grip on his arm, I used my hand to block the sight of my bloody nose.

(Y/n), what’s going on? Ms. Prentiss asked in my earpiece.

“My nose is bleeding,” was my answer for everyone listening - Dr. Reid, Cat, and the BAU alike.

“Are you alright?” He unhesitatingly shifted out of the role he seemed to be playing. His guard fell down to the point where it felt like nothing else mattered but to know that I was okay. It wasn’t Spencer and his fake girlfriend talking anymore, it was Dr. Reid and me again.

“HELLO?! What’s going on?” The minute Cat’s shrilly voice hit the air, Dr. Reid shut it down with a steadfast hand.

“Not now, Cat! Time out.” He motioned a T before he let an invisible magnetic force freely connect his hands onto my hips again. It seemed like he didn’t even touch me on his own accord but instead, it was the mere gravitational pull that brought his body back to mine. “This isn’t a game anymore.” His tone was unwavering as he walked me away from Cat and into the bathroom.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He whispered in a familiar tone after shutting the bathroom door behind himself. “You can leave now. You don’t have to keep doing this.” As though I were his grandmother’s delicate china, he hoisted me in the air momentarily to help me onto the sink with an almost unnecessarily large amount of caution.

“I’m fine.” While I attempted to wave off his concern nonchalantly, traitorous butterflies swarmed my stomach at the feeling of his touch.

“Don’t tell me you’re fine!” He scolded through an outpouring of laughter. “I can see the blood!” He underlined his words by pressing the toilet paper he retrieved on the spot under my nose where the blood was centralized.

“Then don’t ask!” I just as playfully responded.

“Alright, fine, fine,” He jokingly put his hands up in surrender. “What should I ask you then?”

I wish I was more uncomfortable than I truly was. Maybe then it would’ve been easier to lie to him. But there was something about how close he was to me or how unrelenting his stare was that made sincerity spill out from my every seam.

“‘Why are you even here if you’re just ruining things?’”

He looked so hurt despite the fact that the depreciation was directed at me. “Why would I ask you that?”

“Because it’s true, isn’t it?” My eyes flashed to the door to ensure it was closed, but without the ability to guarantee that Cat wasn’t right outside listening in, I lowered my voice. “I’m way in over my head here. I have no idea what I’m doing and I feel like I’m just making things worse.”

“None of that is true,” It sounded like a reprimand, the way he was defending me to me. “The team wouldn’t have asked you to be here if they didn’t think you could do it … and anyway, it’s kind of nice having a partner in crime.”

He needed to watch his step before he began charting dangerous waters from which he could never escape. I was already playing with fire by allowing any real genuine emotion seep out around Cat. Except now that he’d thrown me a lifeline with his insinuation of liking my company, I knew, at least to some degree, that the feeling was mutual. I briefly calculated the risk until I ultimately decided to let my boldness rear its ugly head.

With the speed of light, I clicked off my earpiece with one hand and turned off Spencer’s with the other. He caught my wrist only after I’d successfully disabled the devices from allowing the team to hear us and us to hear them.

“What are you doing?” “Why didn’t you kiss me?”

Our questions came at the exact same time, and yet I didn’t repeat myself.

I knew he heard me.

It was out of turn for me, given that I’d only briefly calculated the risk of asking this before doing it. It came out suddenly and then I couldn’t take it back. But I blame his gaze for my oversharing. It brought me so much comfort that I failed to recognize the discomfort my question had posed.

He sort of laughed, saying, “Your nose was bleeding.”

Under any other circumstance, I would have believed him. Unfortunately, he was exceptionally unconvincing, precisely because he didn’t look very sure of that explanation himself.

While I’m sure my nose bleeding was a reason not to kiss me, it was most definitely not the reason. My honesty itself felt something like a nose bleed. For one thing, it annoyed me and was beyond my control. But for another, I wished I could find the source and pinch it off to make it stop. Stop it before I spilled out the words, “Oh, I get it ... you just didn’t want to kiss me.”

“That was definitely not the problem,” He said a little too quickly and a little too adamantly that it made my head spin. In that response - he sounded very sure of himself, a complete contrast to his previous demeanor.

“So why didn’t you?” I wish I could tell you why I was pressing the subject so hard. I’d like to think that if you were in my position, you’d want to know the answer as badly as I do now, which is the best rationale I could possibly come up with to justify what I said next.

“If you weren’t scared and if you didn’t not want to, then why didn’t you?”

“(Y/n),” He averted my eyes by turning his head to the side, revealing a side smirk of contempt. I should’ve been mad that he was visibly frustrated because if anything - he was the one being frustrating. Instead, all I could think about was how I wanted to kiss that smirky mouth. Maybe to make the smirky-ness disappear. Or to control it.

Make it mine.

“You’re running out of excuses, Dr. Reid. You’re going to have to kiss me eventually, so let’s just get this over with already.” Did I really just say that?

“I’m not gonna do that.”

“Kiss me!” Yes, I really did.

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

“Just kiss me!”

“(Y/n), stop.”

“God, Spencer, just kiss me already!”

“No!” His eyes found me again; This time they were wider. “Not like this!”

Silence.

Then he cleared his throat as if they��d somehow cover the confession that had already been said.

“Not - I didn't mean - I just. We can't like that because that's not … do you know? Like it's very ... that's not what-" He continued to stammer until he mouthed one last “What?” to himself in complete disbelief of the words that had left his lips and the words that were still struggling to.

Our brains must’ve been working at the exact same speed because while he couldn’t find the right words to say, I was still trying to process everything he already had.

Without waiting for my response, he fled from the bathroom. When the door slammed shut, I whipped my body around to face the mirror, my fist tingling with the urge to punch the stupid girl staring back at me in the reflection.

I knew I couldn’t take refuge in here for much longer unless I really wanted to piss Cat off. Which I totally did, but not if I couldn’t guarantee that Spencer wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire. As confused and pissed off as he made me, I never wanted to hurt him.

Once this realization dawned on me, another one had followed.

This was the key to cracking Cat. I’d found it.

Like an overexcited bull bursting through the gates, I pushed my way out of the bathroom door seeing red. I saw Spencer first, standing in the corner of the room to monitor Cat from a distance. The aforementioned lioness herself was perched in an armchair, slouching in it comfortably as though she’d sat in that very seat a hundred times before. Not a single display of care in her conduct for the people whose lives she was actively trying to ruin.

“So you finally ready to kiss your boyfriend yet?” If sarcasm were a liquid, it’d be dripping from her lips. She was so casually destructive when she spoke, like a loose-lipped bomb capable of going off at any minute but deliberately delaying the blow until it was guaranteed to wreak the most havoc on the most number of people. Seeing her in that light only made things easier.

“Forget the kiss, Cat. In fact, forget Spencer all together,” I waved my hand in his general direction behind me. Like him, I was standing, giving me all the power I needed to assert myself effectively. “It’s just you and me now. Exactly what you’ve wanted since the minute you stepped in here.”

She laughed ruefully, if only to make me insecure. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you scoped me out. You were doing that to figure out how alike we are, right?”

She straightened a little more to sit up in her chair. She was hooked. “Why would I want to do that?”

With my right foot, I swiped the foot rest out from underneath her legs, making her feet fall flat against the floor. Caught off guard by my swift movement, her upper body hurled forward while I took my seat on the foot rest, placing me directly across from her.

It wasn’t for a lack of dominance that I sat down. No, it was that I knew I had power over her, and I didn’t need to stand up anymore to prove it.

“Feel free to stop me when I’m wrong,” I told her emphatically, knowing that would never happen.

“You have always wanted Spencer. That’s just a fact. But deep down, you know he’s never truly wanted you. Sure, maybe he likes, even loves, the allure of your forbidden connection, but he doesn’t like or love you. And now that I’m here, the person he claims he loves in a way he’s never loved anyone before, you want to know just how similar we are. Because the more similarities you find between us, the more it kills you inside to wonder why he would love me over you if we’re practically the same. But you’ve only judged me from the outside, and we both know looks only go so far. So I’ll make it easier for you, Cat. I’ll tell you anything you want to know that way you can come up with an answer to the question you’ve been asking yourself the entire night: ‘Why her and not me?’”

She couldn’t pretend to be unfazed anymore. I had moved her beyond that. She was finally starting to react.

“You would only be this confident if you already knew the answer to that question.” She concluded through gritted teeth. Her body was shaking all over, like the rage inside of her was boiling and her body was the feverish, bubbling water. “Do you know the answer?”

I had nothing to hide. “Yes, I do.”

“Tell me!” She threw down an iron fist against the top of her thigh. “Tell me what the answer is.”

“You have more confidence in my answer than you’re ability to figure it out yourself? Come on, Cat. You couldn’t have gotten this far without your intelligence.”

“I don’t want to figure it out. I want you to tell me.” Her fist clamped around itself harder.

“You don’t trust yourself to ask the right questions?”

“Just. Tell. Me.” Jaw clench.

“Alright, I’ll give you one similarity to start. We both have daddy issues-”

“I don’t care! Just give me the answer.” Foot tapping.

“My grandma used to call my dad a ‘Bastard’ in French actually -”

“Tell me!” Bodily tell after bodily tell, and I knew, I had done it.

I beat the betting odds.

“Fine, Cat. I’ll tell you what it is,” I had her undivided attention, and if I had eyes at the back of my head, I’d see I had Spencer’s, too.

“The fundamental difference between you and me is that no matter what - I would never, ever, do anything to hurt Spencer. I have no compulsion to hurt him as a way to assert power over him or to make him fall at my feet. I can do that without ever having to go to the lengths that you’ve gone to. The power you wield over him is borne from a long-standing vendetta, whereas the power I wield, I resist using against him for revenge because that is what a morally sane person does. While I use my influence to help Spencer believe that he is a good person worthy of good treatment, you are constantly trying to prove that he is a bad person deserving of bad treatment. That he is anything like you.”

Her eyes just barely starting to water marked the last semblance of emotion I’d seen from Cat before the team swarmed the apartment and whisked her away. Then, the proverbial veneer of her mask had glazed back over her face, never to come off again.

As Luke escorted her out in handcuffs, she gave me one last look over her shoulder.

“How did you know about my dad?”

You might think I slipped up when I told Cat that we were similar because of our daddy issues, therefore accidentally revealing that I knew more about Cat’s backstory than I led on, but that was purely by design. I had done that with the specific intention of setting this exact moment in motion.

This moment where she would recognize that she’d overlooked my ‘mistake’ because of her lack of propriety. This moment where she would have to face the fact that she’d been deceived and outsmarted by me.

This moment that she would think about until the day that needle went into her arm - the moment she realized - she let me win.

_ _ _

As twisted as it may seem, the end to the reign of Queen Cat called for celebration. Penelope - she told me to call her that and not Ms. Garcia - had prepared cocktails galore in the round table room, which I’d actually been invited to enter this time.

“You exceeded any expectations we had. The best we could’ve hoped for was no casualties, so I’m thrilled with the way things turned out tonight, and we couldn’t have done it without you,” Ms. Prentiss pulled me aside to say. “If you want it, there’s a spot waiting for you here on the team, and I really think you should consider taking it.”

To her proposal, I said I’d have to think about it, given that I’d hate to bestow my bad luck upon the team, but after tonight, I was about ready to declare my malchance a thing of the past.

At this rate, I couldn’t distinguish whether I was dizzy from the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream or the job promotion from Secretary to Supervisory Special Agent. In any event, I knew I needed air. I slipped out of the conference room, past the glass doors of the bullpen, and waited patiently for the elevator.

I must’ve caught Spencer after coming back from his ride with Cat to the prison because when the elevator doors opened, he was standing just on the other side of them, looking lost in thought.

“Oh, hi!” I chirped, realizing then that he and I hadn’t said a word to each other since the “Kiss Me Bathroom Incident.”

“Hey,” he called back, his voice already sounding unfamiliar after its lack of use towards me.

“Long time no see,” I joked to first lighten the air that seemed heavy between us. “I was just going to go down to get some fresh air.”

“I’ll join you.”

Because I hadn’t expected him to say that, I fumbled awkwardly into the tiny space that seemingly got smaller by the second, especially now that he was filling the space with me.

The silence was a little too suffocating for my taste, and I couldn’t afford to have my breath be any more restricted by that than it already was being in this slender cage next to Spencer. Just to occupy the absence, I started rambling. “You know I was thinking -”

No sooner did I start speaking than my words were cut off by the sweet, sweet shut of my mouth because of Spencer’s. His lips wholly encompassed mine just as his hands did to my face. I was surrounded by him and for that my breath had truly been taken away this time, but in the absolute best ways possible.

There was simply no air.

His ivy-like enclosure around me somehow made the claustrophobic elevator expand. Or maybe it felt like it had fallen away entirely. Nothing else around. Just us.

His hands moved wherever they pleased and I followed suit, letting my hands go where they wished, never staying stationary in one place for too long.

I had to feel him everywhere. Filling everything.

He’d pulled away first, biting my bottom lip with blunt teeth to take me with him, and then he forced my lip in its place by kissing it back, pushing his lips impossibly closer like he wasn’t close enough. He wasn’t just trying to restore my bottom lip, but rather fuse ours together forever.

He pulled away for real this time but not far. His face and mine were centimeters apart, our breathes mixing in the microscopic air betwixt us.

Still breathless, he rasped, “I meant something like that.”

Now, I can say with absolute certainty that my malchance was a thing of the past.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　

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snarkythewoecrow · 5 years

Text

sometimes, people just die (and sometimes, they don’t)

by: Snarkymuch

AN: I was going through some of my stuff I did a few months back, and reread this fic, and I’m just really proud of it, and it got kinda buried during posting because of the event it was part of, so I figured that I’d post it again since we all seem to have some time to read atm. This is a fix-it fic.

Summary: The final battle ends, and Tony is dead. Peter's heart is torn from his chest. He is angry and hurting. Tony wasn't supposed to die. Electricity dances across Peter's skin, and he blinks. When his eyes open again, he's back in Tony's arms, the battle raging around him. He's given the chance to save Tony, but how many times can you watch someone die before giving up?

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Pepper gently pulled Peter away from where Tony lay slumped, his eyes unfocused and body nearly motionless. She knelt before him.

“Hey," Pepper breathed.

Peter’s enhanced hearing was the only thing that allowed him to hear Tony’s reply. It was breathy and weak. “Hey, Pep.”

She placed her hand on his reactor, and Peter swallowed back against the painful lump in his throat. Everything about this was wrong, so wrong. Tony wasn’t meant to die—not like this. There was still so much he had to learn from him. He was as close to a father figure as Peter had, and now he was leaving him, too. Everyone left him in the end. It was the Parker Curse.

“Friday?” Pepper asked. It was a simple question. Peter didn’t need to hear the answer to know it wasn't good.

“Life functions critical.”

Tony’s mouth twitched into something of a smile, and the tears in Peter’s eyes fell, burning hot tracks through the dirt and soot on his cheeks.

“Tony,” she said, moving her head to meet his gaze. “Tony, look at me.”

Tony’s head rolled to the side, and Peter’s breath caught in his throat. The air between Tony and Pepper was intimate, and Peter almost felt like he was intruding. This wasn’t the first time he’d watched someone die, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. That thought didn’t bring him any comfort.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Pepper said, her voice stronger than Peter could have ever been. “You can rest now.”

As Tony’s chest fell still, a thought, a wish, framed itself in Peter’s mind. If only he could go back—if only he could try again. There was a strange prickling sensation on his skin—not unlike his spidey sense. Blinking away tears, he looked around. The Avengers were falling to their knees in respect. Anger bubbled up in him. Tony wasn’t supposed to die.

He looked back at Tony, a sea of emotion churning in him, and he blinked. And in that blink, everything shifted. When he opened his eyes, the world had changed—returned back to the roaring battle.

Tony was standing in front of him again, alive and breathing. He grabbed Peter and pulled him into a hug, a hug that Peter remembered because it happened not even an hour ago. His breath caught as Tony tightened his hold. Peter could see and hear the battle raging over Tony’s shoulder.

It seemed impossible, but it was real. It felt real. It made no sense, though. Only moments ago, Tony’s body had been lifeless, his chest no longer taking breath, and now he was here, alive. He didn't know what to think.

Peter had seen impossible things, and as unlikely as time travel seemed, there wasn't a better explanation. He thought back to the moment it happened, remembering that strange feeling of electricity dancing on his skin. It was almost like magic. Maybe it was. He’d wished for another chance. Was this universe answering him?

Even though he had his doubts, he set himself to fight. He couldn't watch Tony die again. He needed to try to change things for the better.

Peter took Tony’s shoulders and moved him back. Licking his lips, he tasted dirt. Tony's face was tired, he looked older, but then Strange had said it had been five years. Peter couldn't begin to imagine what Tony must have gone through during that time.

“Kid?”

Swallowing nervously, Peter gathered himself to speak. “Hey, Mr. Stark.”

“We don’t have a lot of time, but are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Peter blinked a few times, the lump in his throat back. Tony had no idea how accurate his words were.

“It’s just really good to see you again," Peter said.

There was so much Peter wanted to say, but there wasn’t time—not if he wanted to change things, even if he wasn’t convinced it was real. An explosion nearby sent gravel and debris scattering around them. Peter glanced at the carnage before his gaze fell back on Tony.

“We should probably go.”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I think you're right. Just promise me something."

"Anything."

"Stay safe.”

Peter nodded. “You too, Mr. Stark.”

With one last look at his mentor, Peter joined the fray. He activated instant kill. He wasn’t going to lose. This time he went straight for Thanos. It wasn’t a thought-out plan. It was a visceral and raw reaction to watching Tony die, something he wouldn't let happen again.

He tore his way across the battlefield to Thanos, but by the time he got there, the Titan already had the gauntlet on his hand. The change of events seemed to have had a ripple effect, letting Thanos gain possession of the gauntlet sooner.

Peter charged at him but was deflected like a mere annoyance, his instant kill mode doing nothing to stop the Titan. Movement beside him caught his eye. Tony was there, making a move for the gauntlet. All Peter could see were his eyes—not the ones currently full of life and determination—but the empty, lifeless ones that had cut through Peter’s soul only an hour ago.

Needing to do something, Peter shot out a web, hitting Tony’s feet and making him falter. Momentary relief washed over him at stopping Tony, but a deep laugh made Peter turn to the Titan.

With a wicked grin, Thanos brought his fingers together. Time seemed to slow. Peter cried out, shooting a web at the gauntlet, but it was too late. Metal slid against metal, the stones burned bright, and in a heartbeat, there was darkness.

Peter opened his eyes, and Tony was in front of him again, pulling him into a hug. He was back at the same moment as before.

Peter yanked back from Tony's hold, startling the man. He looked around wildly, his hands out at his sides. It felt real. He could smell the smoke in the air.

Time had reset.

Tony reached out to him, but Peter stumbled back. He thought back to the movie Groundhog Day that he used to watch with his Uncle Ben. As a kid, he thought it would be so cool to be in a time loop, but now that he was, it didn't seem that way at all.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tugged at his hair, jumping when a hand grabbed his wrist. Tony's concerned filled eyes were locked on him. Peter shook his head and dropped his hands. Tony let go, taking a step back.

"Kid, what's wrong?"

Peter's brows pulled together, and he frowned. It was chaos around them. He settled his gaze back on Tony.

"Everything, Mr. Stark, everything is wrong, and I don't know how to fix it."

"Kid, you need to breathe," Tony said. "Look at me, Peter. Everything's gonna be okay. I know it's scary right now, but it'll work out."

Peter shook his head, grief straining his features. "That's the thing. I know it won't be."

"You can't know that. We can win. Strange said we had a chance."

"Maybe we win, but you're gonna die, and I can't handle that again. I can't watch you die again."

"What are you talking about?"

He licked his lips, closing his eyes. "I watched you die. I've seen it. You take the gauntlet and snap, and we win, but you die."

Peter watched as Tony's expression shifted, taking on the same edge as when he was dissecting a particularly hard problem.

"You've done this before?" Tony said slowly, and Peter nodded. The crease between Tony's brows deepened. "That can't be right. Are you from the future?"

Peter shook his head. "I don't know. I don't know what's happening, but this is the third time I've done this."

Tony's brow scrunched, and he was quiet for a moment. "Like Groundhog Day?"

Relief washed over him. "Yes, exactly like that."

"Okay, right, but we win?"

"Yeah, I mean the first time, like the real-time, but the second, I went off script and tried to stop you, but Thanos got the gauntlet and snapped."

"But it reset, and you're back?"

Peter nodded. It felt good to have Tony at his side.

"Okay, this is complicated. Honestly, I don't know what to say. We don't have much time."

An alien jumped over the rubble pile beside Peter, making him stumble out of the way. Tony blasted it in the chest.

"What should I do?"

Tony frowned. "Well, we don't know when the loop will end, so you can't give up, and you can't do anything stupid."

"I wouldn't."

Tony raised a brow. "We both know you would."

Another explosion rattled them, and Peter's gaze roamed the battlefield.

He looked back at Tony. "There's nothing I can do is there?"

Tony was quiet for a moment. "I don't know."

Peter's heart sank, fear trickling through his veins. If Tony couldn't help him, then what hope was there?

"Just—just stick with what you know," Tony said, looking stricken. "I'll try to think of something, but promise me, Peter. No crazy risks, no dying. This isn't a movie. We don't know when the loop will break." He paused, face scrunching in pain. "I can't—I can't lose you again."

Not trusting his voice, Peter just gave him a tight nod.

Twenty minutes later, Peter was running toward Tony as he raised his gauntleted hand. He shouted to him to wait, but Tony only smiled sadly before bringing his fingers together to snap.

Peter blinked, and he felt Tony's arms pulling him in for a hug. This time Peter just closed his eyes and cried, face twisting in pain against Tony's shoulder. The man didn't ask, just pulled him closer, murmuring reassurances against his hair.

He didn't bother explaining it this time. Pulling away, he dried his tears and took off into battle, leaving a confused Tony behind.

Peter was losing a fight to some giant alien otter when he blinked and found himself back in Tony's arms. He wasn't sure whether Tony had snapped or died, but either way, time reset.

Reality was beginning to blur with nightmare. He didn't know what was real anymore. He tried different things, but the result was the same. Time reset. And always back to the hug. Each time it grew more painful.

Peter stood stiffly as Tony hugged him. He was numb, having spent countless cycles trying to save Tony. The last round had ended when Peter was impaled, falling from the Pegasus.

Tony pulled back, eyes roaming over him. Peter just sighed and walked over to a rock, plopping down. He kicked out his feet and resigned himself to wait.

"Kid, what are you doing?"

Peter shrugged, ducking just a moment before the expected explosion to his right.

"What's going on? I know this is a lot, but you gotta get up."

Peter's forehead furrowed as he took in Tony's concern. He couldn't be bothered, though. He'd done this too many times. He fully intended to spend this loop sitting right there.

"Well?" Tony asked.

Peter shrugged again, moving to lean against a piece of rubble. He closed his eyes and waited. Tony yelled for a few minutes, but eventually, the battle drew him away. It took fifteen minutes for an alien to shoot Peter, and another five to die. He'd find a better place to sit next time.

Time passed in a horrible, swirling blur. It was like being in Van Gogh's painting Starry Night. Everything seemed to twist and melt into the next line.

The moment Tony hugged him was the only constant anymore, and it was a painful one. He started to lose track of time entirely.

He was tired, his memories full of death and carnage. He'd watched Tony die trying to save him. He'd died himself trying to save Tony. Thanos got the gauntlet a few times, and they'd all died. Nothing seemed to make a difference. Maybe this was his hell, the universe's cruel joke.

Worn out, Peter wandered the battlefield. He knew the best paths to take. He came across Doctor Strange and acknowledged him with a nod. Peter hadn't really interacted with him much. The few times he tried, he'd ended up dead, not from Doctor Strange, but from something else. One time a flying alien whale thing had crushed him as it was blasted from the sky.

"Do you not see the battle around you?" Doctor Strange asked. "This isn't the time for an afternoon stroll."

"Oh, uh, sorry, Mister—Doctor Strange, sir."

The doctor raised a brow. "There is something off about you—your presence. It isn't sitting right in time."

"Yeah, I know. You said that before."

Strange's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Peter sighed. He hated repeating himself, and he'd had this conversation once before. "I'm in a time loop. Don't say it's not possible because, clearly, it is. Yes, we win sometimes. No, I don't know how many times it's been. And yeah, Tony always dies—or I do."

The lines of Strange's face deepened. "This is unexpected. I didn't see this outcome."

"And yet here we are," Peter said. "Hey, you don't happen to have any snacks on you. It's been like forever since I ate, not that I really need to, but I kinda miss it, you know?"

"No, I don't have any snacks," Strange said. "Now tell me, how have you tried to end it?"

"Uh, I've tried like everything at this point, or well, I think. It's not like I know why it's even happening."

"There must be a constant, something happening that resets the loop."

"Yeah, okay.” Peter thought for a moment. “I guess it resets when either me or Mr. Stark die."

"Then maybe for it to end, you both must live. Time loops, though rare, happen for a reason. Usually to restore balance or right a wrong. Maybe there is another way, other than the one I saw."

"Wait, do what?" Peter asked. "I'm supposed to just keep trying? There are thousands of variables, maybe even millions."

"Then it's a good thing you have all the time you need to find it."

Sticking with tradition, the water that was being held back broke free, and Peter drowned. Remind him not to talk to Strange again.

After going through the motions with Tony, Peter made his way to a quieter spot and thought over his options. A wild idea hit him, something he hadn't tried before. What if instead of passing the gauntlet off, he used it instead? It seemed like a death sentence, but he had nothing to lose. Maybe he'd survive it. His healing factor was strong. It would probably hurt, though.

Gathering himself, he started in the direction he knew the gauntlet would be traveling soon, so he could intercept. He dove between aliens and tumbled through the dirt. Once he had it, he clutched it to his chest, aiming for a spot where he wouldn't be interrupted. He found himself not far from the rubble pile that was the compound. Swallowing his nerves, he stared at the gauntlet, the stones glimmering even under the dreary sky. He lifted his gaze and surveyed the battlefield.

Thanos was in the distance, and the Titan’s gaze fell on him. Peter’s heart hammered in his chest. Thanos shoved Iron Man back and began in Peter’s direction, ordering his followers after him. He didn't have time to waste. It was now or never. He slipped on the gauntlet. It was too big and awkward, but he made it work.

The power of the stones burned his arm, spreading like fire across his shoulder and up his neck. As he struggled to bring his fingers together, his eyes locked on Tony. His helmet was down, and Peter could see the moment of realization on his face. Horror painted the man’s features. Peter couldn't hear him over the roar of the battle, but he could see the words as they were said, the plea to stop. Peter just shook his head and said, “I’m sorry,” even though no one could hear.

Thanos was close, and Peter needed to act. He framed his wish in his mind, trying to make his intentions clear. With one last look at Tony, he raised his hand. The stones burned bright, sending tendrils of fire through his arm.

And then with one last breath, he snapped.

His vision began to go dark as fire seared his nerves. He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clenched his jaw. He was in agony. The sounds of the battle began to fade, and he opened his eyes just enough to see Thanos as he turned to dust, drifting into the wind. It had worked.

Time hadn't reset.

A smile tugged at his lips. His eyes fell shut, and his breathing stuttered.

A voice cut through the darkness. “Hang on, kid. Please, you can’t go.”

He felt arms around him, holding him. Tony was there. It began with a hug, and now it would end with one.

“Don’t go," Tony pleaded.

Peter wished he could hang on, Tony sounded desperate, but the darkness was pulling him under.

It felt like a heavy blanket wrapped around his mind, and he was floating. There was no pain. He couldn't measure time in the nothingness. It was quiet and peaceful. Sometimes voices would float by, words just out of reach. Even though he couldn't understand them, they were familiar and comforted him.

Eventually, light began to seep in around the edges, and the voices grew louder. Peter cringed away from the harsh edges, trying to hide in the shadows. The darkness shrank back until it was consumed by the light, then all at once, sensation returned.

Pain flared across his arm and shoulder, and he gasped, eyes snapping open. He blinked against the bright lights of the room.

"Friday, lights down to twenty percent."

Breathing through gritted teeth, Peter rolled his head to the side. Tony was beside him, looking older and more tired than before. His beard was ragged and overgrown. There were dark smudges under his eyes. He stepped closer to the bed, fiddling with the buttons on the IV stand. When he was done, he rested a hand on Peter's uninjured arm.

"The pain meds should kick in soon."

Peter couldn't believe it. After so many tries, it was finally over. Tears slipped down his cheek.

"Where am I?"

Tony's thumb moved back and forth against his arm. "My house—cabin, actually."

Peter nodded, taking in the light blue walls and soft curtains around the window. He'd begun to think he'd never leave the battlefield. He looked at Tony.

"Is it really over?"

Tony rubbed his jaw. "Yeah, it's over, though I don't approve of your methods. It should have been me."

Peter shook his head. "You would have died. You had to live to make it end. We both did."

Tony's brows knit together. "Why does it feel like I'm missing something?"

Peter choked back a half-laugh, half-sob. "You know the movie Groundhog Day?"

Tony frowned, shifting weight between his feet. He studied Peter for a moment before straightening, maybe the reality of his words sinking in. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I wish I was."

Tony was silent for a minute. "How long? How many times?"

Peter's gaze flicked to his right hand, taking in the bandages on his arm. He stared at them for a moment before looking back at Tony. "The first time, the real first time, we won, but you died. I don't know what happened or how, but suddenly everything shifted, and we were back in the battle, and you were pulling me into a hug."

Tony's face was a blank mask. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "How many times?"

"Too many—way too many."

"Why didn't you come to me?"

Peter averted his eyes. "I did, a few times, but it never helped. After a while, it got too painful." He paused, taking a breath. "I watched you die so many times. I died so many times. I didn't think it would ever end, you know. Sometimes I'd just give up and—and let myself get killed just so I didn't have to watch you die again."

Tony's face contorted in pain. "Kid."

"It's okay. I'm fine now. Really, Mr. Stark, it could have been worse."

"How, Peter? Going through the battle once is enough to give anyone nightmares."

Peter looked up at him. "You could have died, for real. When I thought I'd lost you—" He sucked in a breath. "I can't lose another person I care about," he whispered, closing his eyes.

A hand cupped his cheek, wiping away his tears. He opened his eyes to see Tony looking down at him.

"I can't lose you either, kiddo. Once was enough for a lifetime. You're just as much mine as Morgan is."

He shifted in the bed. "Who's Morgan?"

Tony smiled. "You'll meet her soon. She's great, Pete. Every bit her mother."

"So you and Miss Potts?"

"Married a few years back."

The pain meds were starting to work. "Wow, that's great. That's really great. I wish I could have been there."

Tony's smile slipped a little. "Me too, kiddo, me too."

Peter's eyelids began to droop. He didn't want to fall asleep. He wanted to stay with Tony and meet Morgan. He wanted to call May. It had been so long since he'd seen her.

Tony must have seen him struggling to keep his eyes open because he was quick to speak. "Sleep, kid. I'm not going anywhere. We'll all be here in the morning."

"What if there is no tomorrow?"

Tony brushed Peter's hair back. "I promise there will be."

Blinking a few more times, he finally lost the battle to stay awake, and his eyes slipped closed. He drifted off to sleep with Tony standing guard against the nightmares, finally knowing that things would be okay.

#fanfictions #irondad #peter parker #tony stark #timeloop #hurt/comfort #snark writes

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vgckwb · 4 years

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ML: Are They Worthy? Chapter 81: Of Monsters and Men!/Superbug (The Battle for Paris, Part 1)

A cloud of darkness had descended upon Paris. At the center of it was a being who was entirely purple, masculine, had wings, antennae, grizzly sharp teeth, and void pupil-less eyes. Their fingers were clawed. He looked around. He noticed that he was being filmed.

“Heh heh” he laughed. “Greetings Paris” he said to his audience. “I’ve been waiting for a long time. Watching. Doing nothing but observing without the power to do anything. But finally, I am free! And now I shall conquer.

Ah. Forgive my manners. My name is Nurushwa. I am a kwami. A kwami labeled evil by some. A label I don’t hate. I’ll be blunt with you all. I wish to take over, and once I do, I will free my captive brothers and sisters also deemed evil. This can be as painless or painful as necessary. I don’t mind either way, but my personal preference is painful.” Nurushwa laughed.

Meanwhile, all the heroes and Hawk Moth were watching this unfold on their devices. “Evil kwami?” Ladybug remarked.

She got a call and took it, while also keeping an eye on Nurushwa. It was Sting. “Ladybug! Web-Spinner and I are converging on your position! Have every hero do the same!”

“What’s going on?” Ladybug asked.

“That thing is an evil kwami!” Sting replied. “It’s apparently a powerful creature that’s been locked away for quite some time!”

“How did it get out?” Ladybug asked.

“It takes three things to unleash it!” Sting explained. “A close proximity to the area in which they are locked, an affinity to miraculous energy, and overwhelming negative emotion! Someone MUST have found them!”

“But who?” Ladybug asked.

Nurushwa was still laughing when he started gagging a little bit. Suddenly and viscerally out of his mouth pops the head and torso of Lila. She takes a few breaths. “Paris! I am sorry! I don’t deserve your kindness! I lied! About everything! Truly, I am a terrible person! But please! Stop this monster! And if you could find it in your heart! Save me as well!”

“Well that answers that” Ladybug said.

Nurushwa used one of his arms to push Lila back in. “A feisty one.” He turned his attention back to the cameras. “Enough dilly-dallying! Now my pretties, DESCEND!” The dark cloud broke up. It turns out, they were a cloud of akumas. They rapidly descended on the city, engulfing the citizenry one by one. However, instead of any unique villains, they turned into beings that looked similar to Nurushwa.

Meanwhile, Lila was inside Nurushwa, fearing for her life. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you everything you’ve wanted. Power. Friends. Control.”

“I don’t care about that anymore!” Lila said, sobbing.

“Oh, but it isn’t a choice,” Nurushwa told her. “There’s just one thing I’m asking in return.”

“What?!’ Lila hissed.

“Your humanity” Nurushwa answered.

Lila started to feel her body start to fade away. “What are you doing to me?!”

“Heh heh” Nurushwa laughed. “I’m simply turning you into one of us.” Lila was even more scared. “Ah. You have the soul of a fox kwami. Trickstern would love a new playmate.” He laughed as Lila was struggling while her body was slowly turning into a kwami like him.

Within a matter of minutes, all of the heroes had met up with Ladybug and everyone else. “What do we do?!” Honey Bee asked. “There’s a crazy, maniacal...thing, and it has Lila!”

“AND it’s taking the rest of the city” Chienne Reaction pointed out.

Hawk Moth turned to face Adrien. “Adrien! Get out of here! Go to our house! You should be safe!”

Adrien looked at Hawk Moth. He smiled and sighed. “Sorry, but I can’t.” Hawk Moth was confused. “Plagg! Claws out!” he turned into Cat Noir.

Hawk Moth was surprised. But he shook himself out of it. “We’ll talk about this later. Right now, we need to deal with Nurushwa!”

“So, you’re willing to help out old man?” Carapace asked.

Hawk Moth glared at him. “I’ll be the first to tell you that I’m no angel. But today, I’d like to be on their side. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

Ladybug looked up at Nurushwa. “Well, Sting said that they need a person. What if we try to free Lila from him?”

“It’s a good idea” Rooster Gold started.

Bleat Star came in. “But I don’t think he’d let us get close to him!”

“Even with all of us, he’s creating an army as we speak!” Hog Wild reminded her.

Ladybug thought. She looked at Chienne Reaction and Hawk Moth. “That’s it! We need to power up! Chienne Reaction! Power up Hawk Moth! Once he’s powered up, he can bestow more power unto us! Once we have that power, we could take the fight to him more easily!”

“Plus, we could save people, and have Hawk Moth give them powers as well” Cat Noir said jumping in.

“Right!” Ladybug said. “Are you up for it?”

Chienne reaction thought. “While I don’t LIKE supporting Hawk Moth, I think it’s our only option.” She breathed out. “Here goes. Kiss of Luck!” She powered up Hawk Moth.

“Thank you,” Hawk Moth said. Butterflies surrounded him. “As a reward, here you go” he powered up a butterfly and infused it with Chienne Reaction’s miraculous. She transformed so that she was a bit taller, a bit stronger, the color of her costume was a bit darker, and she had three heads. “Cerberus. Once I give everyone else a Tenshi, I want you to power them up further. Can you do that?” Cerberus nodded. “Excellent. Now then, who’s next?” He created an army of tenshi, and one by one, they fused with the miraculous.

Bunnyx gained a light blue helmet with the bunny ears still attached, light blue elbow pads and knee pads, and was now floating on a giant chromatic light blue pocket watch. “Time Hopper!”

Viperion’s arms and legs got covered in different bangles, but the original one was still distinct. He also had a headband, which lifted his hair a little bit, a belt, and a metal mask going across his mouth, all of which were similar to his bangle. “Viperidae!”

Pegasus grew longer dreads, and they were no longer tied up. His shoes were edged with a bit of metal. Additionally, he had two black spots on the palms of his hand. Aside from that, he was made a little taller, and a little stronger. “Wyld Stallyn!”

Tigress’s stripes were made bolder, and more jagged. Her hair was let down, but more frizzed. She also grew nail-like claws of different colors on each one. “Neon Tigress!”

King Monkey gained a golden light around him, as well as a cloud-like essence coming off of his gloves, footwear, and tail. “Wukong!”

Ryuko’s face was enveloped with a dragon mask which kept the horns. Ryuko’s eyes peered through the nostrils, while the eyes on the dragon head were white, but reverberated an energy to them. Additionally, all of the black on Ryuko’s costume, aside from the seal, turned to that same white color as the eyes, and was also radiating energy. “Ryukyu!”

Hog Wild’s shoulder pads grew hair-like thistles. The tusk design on her respirator grew out into actual tusks. And her hair stood on end, with a line of pink going down the middle. “War Hog!”

Rooster Gold’s feet grew three talons. His hair grew a little bit longer. His crossbow became bigger, and he was also surrounded by two rings of feathers which made him look like an atom molecule. “Thundercluck!”

Scouries grew little tufts of hair on her suit to make her look more mangy, and her natural hair followed suit. Her torso was adorned with a multiplication sign with the number 1 in the middle of it. She gained longer mask ties, and she was also given a small, floating monitor. “Miss Souriesous!”

BleatStar’s horns grew in size. The suit’s black feet and hands turned gold to reflect the color of the bell. His hair was let down, leaving it a bit messy, and he had a lightning strike design going across his face. “Abaaaddin Sane!”

Each section of Oxenfree’s costume was given a little scale which read out how hard or soft he is. At the moment, all of the needles were in the middle. “Kiloxenfree!”

Paonne Ange gained two sets of deep blue wings; one set on her upper back, and one on her lower. Her domino mask gained a vertical rectangle in the middle of it. “Paonne Archange!”

Sting’s arms grew pincers that acted as gauntlets around his fists. His tail grew bigger, and his stinger grew sharper. “Heraculeaus!”

Web Spinner’s fangs became more pronounced. Her costume grew four legs that could hold her up. She also gained an hourglass insignia on her chest and back. “Web Weaver!”

Honey Bee’s decorative wings became real, and her honey colored gloves felt like they were made of tangible honey. Also, her hair was let down, and she had two more streaks going through it, one black, one honey colored. “Honey Queen!”

Carapace gained giant, shell-shaped knee pads, elbow pads, and shoulder pads, as well as a face scarf that covered the lower half of his face. “Murtle!”

Rena Rouge’s hair was let out of its ponytail, and the little tails in her hair stood on end. The black sections on her arms and legs gained orange lines that followed the skeletal structure of those areas. “Rintails!”

The hood of Judgement Wolf’s cloak was made more wolf-like. His cloak was now fully open, and his torso was adorned with three gray claw marks. He also gained claw-like nails on all fingers, except the one the miraculous resided on. “Lupus Judgement!”

Cat Noir’s entire body came to look like a black mist, but you can still see a tangible shape. Also, his claws were more pronounced. “Ultra Noir!”

Finally, Ladybug’s outfit changed so that she was white with red spots, instead of red with black spots. “Superbug!”

Cerberus powered up the tenshied heroes even further. Paonne Archange was next, as she brought back everyone’s sentimonster from a few days ago that had one. Heraculeaus got Golden Dragon back, and Web Weaver got a similar one called Jade Dragon. Paonne Archange also gave one to Hawk Moth; a humanoid figure who looked like Gabriel, except he was all white, with the exception of a red cross going across his chest, whom Paonne Archange dubbed “Healer.” Royal Guard came in and powered everyone up even further.

“Alright,” Superbug commanded, “I will go and confront Nurushwa directly and try and figure out a way to free Lila. While that’s going on, the rest of you are going to fight these akumas, save the people, and have Hawk Moth and Paonne Archange create more heroes and sentimonsters to aid us in that. Cerberus will continue to power people up as well. Are we ready?!” Everyone nodded. “Then let’s go!” The heroes spread out from their position, while Hawk Moth stayed there to create more tenshi to spread around the citizenry.

Before they went off fully, Murtle stopped and pulled Wyld Stallyn and Time Hopper aside. “Hold on” Murtle said. He created a barrier behind Hawk Moth that stretched across the remaining city on that side. “Nurushwa does not have anyone there!” Murtle explained. “Whoever we free, send them there.”

At that moment, a large group of people started appearing. Time Hopper shrugged. “I guess I already did.” Murtle nodded, shook his head, and the three of them left off.

While this plan came together fast, Nurushwa’s power was unlike anything they had seen, and he already amassed a powerful, sizable army to fight on his behalf. However, the process of turning Lila into a kwami was taking its time since Lila was his primary power source after being locked away for many years. “Why are you doing this?!” Lila asked.

“Because I can,” Nurushwa answered for his prisoner. “I have the power to exert dominance over others. The other kwamis go on and one about peace, and unity, and helping others. It’s disgusting. Once I have freed my like-minded brothers and sisters from the prisons those other kwamis made, we can finally subjugate these pathetic humans.”

Lila remained silent. She knew she couldn’t preach of the ideals he threw aside because she herself failed to live up to them herself. She realized she felt like she was doing what he was. “What, no comeback?” Nurushwa taunted. “Of course not. You’re just like me. And soon, that will fully be realized.”

Lila silently cried. I guess there really is no hope for someone like me.

There was an explosion. “What the?” Nurushwa sensed his army was taking several blows. “Grrrr. HOLD STRONG! WE’RE GOING TO TAKE CONTROL! NO BACKING DOWN!” he yelled at his army, to which they cheered. The army continued making advances.

Superbug was bee-lining it to Nurushwa, taking out what she could of his army, with Royal Guard doing a lot of the heavy lifting. Despite the fact that there were now tens of thousands, she was more confident than ever that her team, Hawk Moth, and the army he was conjuring up would handle them.

Ultra Noir was keeping close to Superbug, but focusing on the enemies rather than where she was going. His misty features made it hard for the enemies to hit him. Ultra Noir also found that he could create Cataclysms as big or as small as he wanted. He used it to destroy parts of buildings to land on Nurushwa’s unwilling minions, as well as destroy them outright, while keeping the humans inside safe. He continued his attack.

Meanwhile, his Sentimonster, Guardian Angel, flew close by; taking out Nurushwa’s army with their light powers and feather manipulation. They also had the ability to heal those who had been recently freed from Nurushwa’s control.

Lupus Judgement was going around freeing everyone he could with his powered up Reveal Claw. He only took out his sword when he needed to defend himself. Lucky for him, this was a rare instance because Firefighter was backing him up at every turn.

As Rintails was running, she saw Nurushwa’s akumas descending. She grabbed Murtle and said “I have an idea! I’ll lure them with fake people, and you capture them in little bubbles!”

“Sounds awesome!” Murtle. Rintails nodded and began phase one of her plan. The akumas took the bait, which allowed Murtle to do phase two. To protect them from danger, Composite Ladybug and Bubbleblast worked together to fight off any attackers.

Honey Queen was flying around the city. On top of her beebots immobilizing Nurushwa’s army, she could also shoot sticky honey from her gloves to make them stick to where they were. Following behind her was Pride Monster, who would swallow the akumatized people and spit them back out free of Nurushwa’s control.

Also taking to the skies was Paone Archange. She flew around granting people Sentimonsters. She would usually coordinate this with people being Tenshied by Hawk Moth to gain even more power. She would protect herself when needed, but she also received aid from Buzzstormer and Cerberus. Cerberus would also go around powering up the Tenshis to make them even stronger.

Time Hopper and Wyld Stallyn were working together to track and find anyone free from Nurushwa and time travel/teleport them to the area behind the defencive wall, while also taking care of anyone attacking them directly. MX-01, apart from being really good at taking out Nurushwa’s soldiers, was able to locate these people and relay that information to Speedstaker, who in turn would bring those people closer to Wyld Stallyn and Time Hopper. Time Hopper would invite people onto her watch-board and travel to the safe zone; instantly traveling back to take enemies by surprise. Wyld Stallyn would create portals for himself when the situation called for it, but he would also use the spots on his hands to make portals for others. His was his main way of getting people to the wall.

Viperidae launched chronospheres from each of his straps. Each Chronosphere covered a section of the city. He and Soundwave Rider would make their way through the city, battling the monsters. Every so often, each strap, at a different time, would reset everything in the chronosphere it had influence over, on the chance that things would go wrong in said Chronosphere. The heroes inside would be made aware so they could make adjustments.

Wukong would blast out disruptive objects to the minions, causing them to lose control. Valkyrie Archer would then use their arrows to pin the monsters. Both would attack together if the situation called for it.

Kiloxenfree was fighting the creature head on. Most of the time, he remained hard all around, since that made him practically invincible. However, if the situation called for it, he would go soft in some places; most notable whenever something was thrown at him, it would fly back at whoever threw it. Loveheart also helped with the offensive front.

Miss Souriesous was also fighting Nurushwa’s monsters, when one of them snuck up on her. However, another Miss Souriesous, at full size and with a number 2 on her X, attacked them. The two Miss Souriesouses smiled and nodded at each other. Miss Sourieous 1 looked at her monitor and saw that her plan of dividing and conquering was going well, with many Miss Souriesouses of differing sizes fighting these monsters all across Paris. Courificator helped by attacking these monsters, and providing transport to some of the smaller Miss Souriesouses.

Ryukyu was storming the area and fighting the Nurushwa army head on. Whenever she would call upon one of her weather powers, not only would the seal glow to the corresponding effect, but the eyes on the dragon mask would change color to match, as well as the sections on her costume that matched. This meant that not only could she change into the effect itself, but those parts would have the powers of said effect; making them really useful in combat. Aiding her was Oniposte, and their battle prowess alongside each other was astounding.

Neon Tigress was doing her best to remain calm. This is so that whenever she shot out a Reverb, the monsters around her would calm down as well. Because she was powered up, she could shoot out many reverbs at a time. Threadmaker would then tie them all up, and the two would continue to advance.

Wherever War Hog went, she would distort her surroundings before battle. She would do this during battle too, but doing it before allowed her to make the area to her liking, and it also gave Rebel Cat better opportunities for surprise attacks.

Thundercluck worked on keeping his distance and sniping the monsters with Down Strikes, while Pagemaster summoned as many drawings as it could to aid in the attack. Whenever one of Nurushwa’s monsters got close, they would touch one of the feathers circling Thundercluck and instantly fall asleep. This was helpful, as it allowed Thundercluck time to move when necessary.

Abaaaddin Sane notices that one he began harvesting feelings, they would continue to come to him. This gave him more than enough ammo to take down Nurushwa’s army in many creative ways. Following him was Multi-Bleat, who would often assist Abaaadin Sane with his takedowns.

Heraculeaus and Web Weaver were working together. Web Weaver would corner the monsters, alongside Golden Dragon and Jade Dragon, and the Heraculeaus would use his stinger to unlock the binds of the akumas to the people. Healer was not too far behind, and he would heal the citizenry after they were free, and protect them from getting akumatized again.

Nurushwa was furious that his minions were taking severe blows. “Well well, it looks like we’ll have another thing in common” Lila chuckled. “Losing to Ladybug.”

“Grrrr” huffed Nurushwa. “It’s not over yet! I’ll just have to keep making more! Soon, they’ll be so overwhelmed and overworked that they can’t help but fall!” Lila became worried.

However, as Nurushwa was gathering the energy to do this, he was interrupted. “HALT!” screamed Superbug. Nurushwa looked at her. She was staring at him intently. “LET LILA GO AND STOP THIS SIEGE ON PARIS! OR I WILL MAKE YOU SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES!”

Lila looked up. She could see what Nurushwa was seeing. She could believe her eyes. “Ladybug?”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfic #Marinette #adrien #gabriel #lila #alya #nino #Chloe #vlad #alix #Nathaniel #Marc #MAX #ivan #sabrina #mylene #rose #juleka #ondine #kagami #Luka #Kim

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aos-avenger · 5 years

Text

Consequences.

So I recently started watching WTFock and I love Robbe x Sander way to much. I got inspired to write a little drabble from Sander's POV. It takes place the day after the events of the party.

Hope you guys enjoy.

WARNING: Contains reference to triggering events.

Apology Note: This story may contain grammar issues and/or misspelled words.

Sander sat in a cafe pretending to listen to Britt. His head is pounding from a hangover and his phone feels like a bomb in his pocket, about to go off at any second. He almost wishes it would, but all he has is the last text from Robbe.

Want to go hangout?

But Robbe, with his gorgeous brown hair, his beautiful face, shy smiles and the kindest soul Sander has ever encountered, is too busy invading every nook and cranny of the blond boy's mind. Hell, not just his mind, but his heart and soul too.

It was all a swirling, churning, knotting, mess of chaos.

As hard as he tried to shake Robbe, he just couldn't seem to let him go. It had only been yesterday that he'd last spoken to him, but it felt like an eternity.

And now he was with Britt.

He'd betrayed Robbe. He'd betrayed Britt. He'd betrayed himself.

Sander's thoughts took him back to Robbe's bed. The feeling of the younger boy's skin under his fingertips, the way his hair smelled and his smile haunted him. So, too, did Robbe's theory of other dimensions. He desperately wanted to be one of the other Sander’s. A Sander that was actually brave and fearless and not just pretending to me. A Sander that right now, had Robbe wrapped around him, like the clingy, soft boy that he was.

Britt continued to speak, not at all bothered by Sander's lack of response. She thought he was in another one of his moods, so she was happy to pick up the slack.

Britt is in the past.

We are the future.

He had really meant it.

Sander hands tightened into fists. The other night he'd been shown a version of their future that hadn't truly crossed his mind until he and Robbe had lain in a filthy alleyway covered in cuts and bruises. They'd been lucky they weren’t killed.

He hadn't been able to protect Robbe that night!

What about the rest of the nights in the future?

Would he fail then too?

Sander looked out the window hoping to find a distraction from his thoughts. He watched the people go by, idly noting the shapes and angles of their bodies and faces like he was in one of his art classes. But that only made him think of his drawing of Robbe; the one he wanted to paint in intense colours.

Because what he felt for Robbe was intense.

Scary.

Sweet.

Soft.

Mind blowing.

And then there Robbe stood.

Right outside the window.

As if he'd been summoned by the power of Sander's entire being. His soul hummed for Robbe; called for him in a way Sander had never experienced before.

The blond boy's entire body went rigid. His heart raced and thudded and ached. His hands itched and trembled and ached. His body had such a visceral reaction to the sight of Robbe that it scared him. But not enough to stop his eyes from wandering possessively over Robbe's figure. He could only see the side of his profile and his hood was drawn up obscuring most of his face, but Sander could recognise him anywhere.

Robbe was looking down at something in his hand. His other hand went up to rub his temple thoughtfully and he shook his head a little. Sander drank it all in, like an alcoholic that needed his next fix.

Because Robbe was like an addiction for him.

Even when Sander had been hurt so badly by the way Robbe had spoken to him, not so long ago, he hadn't been able to stay mad at him or stay away from him. Especially when he'd been so sweet and apologetic.

And Sander had gone and fucked it all up.

Britt posted on Insta, wearing his leather jacket. Robbe was bound to have seen that on top of everything else. Sander imagined Robbe in it instead, how it would swallow the boys smaller body and resisted the urge to shudder.

Robbe's head turned towards the window and for a second Sander thought that Robbe had felt his starring. But then another boy, a man really, was throwing his arm around Robbe's shoulders and tugging him along. It wasn't one of the Brrrothers, because Sander would have recognised them.

Sander hadn't seen Robbe's reaction to the man, but he'd walked off with him without protest.

If Sander had thought his mind was chaotic before, it was nothing compared to the anger and jealously that fired through his veins, making his head and eyes feel hot and itchy.

Who the fuck had his hands on Robbe?!

It had been bad when he'd seen Robbe with Noor, but it was a thousand times worse to see him with another man, because Sander wanted to be the one with his arm around Robbe's shoulders.

“Sander, what are you doing?” Britt's voice sounded from afar, but he felt her tugging at his sleeve. He didn't remember having stood or pounding his fists into the table, but Britt is looking at him with concern and a hint of embarrassment at the scene he is creating.

“I forgot I need art supplies for college tomorrow,” he manages to bite out, before storming out of the cafe. Britt deserves better then the way he is treating her, he knows this, but his mind is too focused on figuring out who Robbe was with. And why he let him put his hands on him.

God, I’m such a hypocrite, Sander thought bitterly.

Sander followed in the same direction as the two other males, but couldn’t see Robbe's distinctive jacket in the crowd.

Which is how he found himself across the street from Robbe's building, hidden from sight, his hood up and his jacket pulled tight.

The jacket that he wished he'd seen Robbe wrapped in last night, rather than Britt.

#wtfock #robbe ijzermans #sander driesen #robbe x sander #sobbe #sander x robbe #trigger warning #robbe x sander fic #my fic

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keladryhawklight · 4 years

Text

What Lurks in the Night

Sep 627 - Grafenwohr, Alterac - 3 Bells past Midnight

The smell was what alerted her first it seemed. Something was burning; something she recognized the scent of. The insidious crackle of flame lit the darkness of her vision, bringing light to the scenery around her. She gazed, finding through the haze of darkness what it was that she could scent.

A funerary pyre rose before her, stacked high with bodies. Afflicted, wounded, blighted bodies of the poor souls that had been lost in this lonely village. She drew closer, her feet crunching across the chilly ground as she crossed through the copse of dead and dying trees. It didn’t seem to affect her overly, this cold. It was strange, she thought. Everything had a haze to it, as if she couldn’t quite focus. She could make out some of the details as she came into the light cast by the pyre.

They were. No. No, this wasn’t right, her mind raced. It could not be. It would not be. A soft noise escaped her. For the faces she saw, hazy and half-illuminated in the darkness weren’t the villagers of Grafenwohr. No, they were not strangers.

It was the faces of the 47th that stared back at her as the pyre continued to burn, staring through her to the darkness beyond. The scent of burning flesh grew stronger, filling her senses. Nauseatingly putrid. A bead of sweat dripped down her neck as the heat fanned against her.

Chains rattled behind her, followed by the echo of dead bones rattling as their host made it’s way through the night. Half-turning, she came face-to-face with a broken smile sunk into a rotten face. Insane eyes lit bright red against the blackness of the woods beyond as they stared into her. Bore holes through her. The dead come alive, her mind gasped in horror.

A bony hand reached out towards her, the limb wrapped in the rotting remains of flesh long lost. Frozen, she could do naught. Could not move, could not even call forth the Light to aid her. The beings touch was cold, the fingers wrapping around her neck. Bone-chillingly cold, so much so that she felt it. Gasped as the shock of pain rolled through her. It leaned in towards her, red eyes pinning her on the spot, even as the hand that grasped dragged her closer into its grasp, until she hovered off the ground about an inch from its face. They stared at one another, in absolute silence for a long moment, before it opened the remains of its jaws.

“Die,” it breathed, as the scent of rot rolled over her. Its hands squeezed cruelly about her neck in a vice, completely closing off her air.

She came awake in an instant, rolling off of her cot onto the frozen ground. As her boots found purchase, she scrabbled to her feet, ignoring the sleeping woman opposite her. She grabbed her canteen, and ducked out of the tent, jogging for the tree line. She made it, just barely beyond sight of the camp, surrounded by the privacy given by the dark forest, before her stomach pitched completely.

Falling to her hands and knees, she vomited. Once. Twice, until there was nothing more to come up. Her throat and nose burned as her body continued to try. Soft gasps escaped her as she sucked in long breaths. Her frame shook like a leaf in the wind as she sat back on her rear against a tree to recover. The water in her canteen was a blessing, as she rinsed her mouth out, spitting it back onto the ground nearby.

Light, her mind whispered. Light, that was bad. That was.. bad. Those dreams, those dreams that provoked such a visceral reaction, she had thought them gone. Over. She was healed, and had moved past it. They had plagued her for months, and occasionally in the Hollow. When it had fallen, they had returned for a brief spell, but not to this extent. With her boot, she absently covered the evidence she had been there.

“Damn this place,” she murmured quietly, leaning back against the tree to catch her breath. “What will it take from us this time, I wonder. What will it demand.”

#wow rp #oc rp #world of warcraft #oc roleplay #wyrmrest alliance #wyrmrest rp #wyrmrest accord #fortyseventh #forthseventhrp #wyrmrest roleplay #alterac #stromgarde

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the-yerkes-dodson-curve · 5 years

Text

SO LET’S TALK ABOUT THE NEW SANDERS SIDES VIDEO

This is gonna be a long post. I have a lot of thoughts about this episode. There is going to be some serious talk about my own personal experiences with violent intrusive thoughts and also me just appreciating this amazing episode.

I was one of the people that was convinced it was going to be about depression. I am so glad it wasn’t. A lot of people have talked about depression, but no one, at least as far as I know, have really touched upon intrusive thoughts. I had the exact same dilemma as Thomas last year where I thought I was going insane because I couldn’t control my own brain and I had a horrible mental breakdown and I was convinced I was a horrible person because of my intrusive thoughts. I cried and talked to people about it and through doing so it was made clear to me that these intrusive thoughts were just that, thoughts. Nothing more. They hold nothing over me. I still suffer from them, but now I know what they are.

I was also certain there wasn’t going to be another side introduced. It’s been a year since Deceit was introduced, we’ve only just gotten to know Deceit a little better, there won’t be another side. BOY WAS I WRONG

The episode starts with Thomas, Virgil and Patton trying not to think about the intrusive thoughts he was having that kept him awake. I have intrusive thoughts like that all the time. I vividly imagine my family members dying, or even myself dying. I vividly imagine someone breaking into the house and killing me. My brain does what Virgil and Patton do, freak out and try to think about something else. This video has made me realise how much I repress thoughts like that.

My anxiety also makes me have intrusive thoughts. Whenever I have an anxiety attack I vividly imagine myself killing myself in gory detail because I’ve gotten into this cycle of hating myself whenever I have an attack. I get scared, what if I lose control one day and these thoughts become reality?

I love how the audio became muffled and the intrusive thought creeped in. I like to think of the mind like a radio, tuning in and out of different frequencies, and sometimes, or most of the time like for me, you can’t control the frequencies it jumps to. And suddenly you’re imagining your loved one being killed or dying.

I SCREAMED BLOODY MURDER WHEN THOSE HANDS CREEPED OUT

I WAS NOT EXPECTING A NEW SIDE AT ALL

I WAS SO TERRIFIED

HOLY SHIT THAT CHARACTER DESIGN I AM IN LOVE STRAIGHT AWAY

BUT AAAAAAAA WHAT ARE YOU DOING WHAT THE HELL

When he smacked Roman in the head and knocked him out I was so shook, this Sanders Sides has stepped into totally new territory

LOOK AT HIM OMG HE HAS A MOUSTACHE I WASN’T EXPECTING A NEW SIDE TO HAVE FACIAL HAIR HOLY SHIT

THE DUKE

HIS VOICE

HE HAS A DIFFERENT VOICE

THERE IS NO ENDING TO THOMAS’ TALENT

The way the song starts is eVeRyThInG

THESE EFFECTS I CAN’T DEAL AAAAAAAAA

I FUCKING SCREAMED

HIS SIX ARMS I LOVE IT REMUS’ SASSY STANCE I AM LIVING FOR IT

If you shared those musings with your friends, I doubt they would forgive you.

Gosh. I relate to this too much. I was so scared that I would somehow reveal these bad thoughts to people and they would hate me and everyone would hate me and think I was an awful person.

Even though everybody sins, everybody dies.

FAVOURITE PART OF THE SONG HANDS DOWN THOMAS’ VOICE IS AMAZING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Why deny yourself knowledge, say, knowledge of yourself!

These lyrics are amazing. They encapsulating what I was thinking when I had really bad intrusive thoughts. I still have them, but when I first started noticing I had them I spiralled so far down. “What if this is who I am...what if I’m not the nice person I think I am?”

hELP I LOVE HIM BUT I HATE HIM BUT I LOVE HIM

I always love the villain. I hate everything they’ve done and don’t condone any of it, but I absolutely love them, especially if they are as fabulous as the Duke Remus.

These sorts of things are only thought in the mind of a man whose soul is truly rotten.

Oof. I relate to that thought process.

So let all your hopes of heaven be forgotten, ‘cause your head’s not in the gutter, pal, it’s in hell!

I wasn’t expecting religious imagery. I really love that. I don’t relate to the religious ideas brought up in this episode as I am not religious, but I do love the fact that he talked about them. Also, when Deceit said, “Wow, Thomas, it seems that your moral compass is pointed south, towards hell!” that was definitely foreshadowing for Thomas to spiral into this. That’s why Patton reacted so viscerally to that comment.

Remus: Juicy butthole!

Me:

Me: what...what is happening in this Sanders Sides

THIS FACE I LOVE IT

THE JAZZ HANDS AND THE HIGH VOICE AAAAAA WHY DO I LOVE HIM AND HATE HIM

Patton did a real good job!

Oh my goodness, this precious boi.

How about...DEMENTED?

I C H O K E D

What is my deal? Um, bitch? What is YOUR deal?

My exact thought process. “Am I actually a horrible person because I’m having such awful thoughts like this, there’s definitely something wrong with me...but I can’t stop it...”

Oh no....oh no!

My heart broke at the horror and sadness that washes over Thomas’ and Patton’s face.

another good remus screenshot

Oh my goodness, the way he tortures Logan throughout the episode was awful for me to watch cause MY BABY LOGAN, but I love how Logan doesn’t react. I love Logan’s determination.

You bastard.

IT WAS A LONG TIME COMING HELL YES VIRGIL

I’d love to see the bloopers for this bit, oh my gosh.

Ooh! How fun! You know who could help us with that?

AWW MAN YOU GOT MY HOPES UP XDD

That’s what repression is!?

I love Patton’s reaction, cause I had the same reaction. Repression is so easy to do cause you often don’t know you are doing it.

This is not about me wanting to be listened to. You all are not listening to Thomas.

THIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT OH MY GOSH

Virgil: But what if he’s lying?

Logan: I can assure you, he’s not. You’re just para- expressing an unhealthy amount of concern. Thank you for being on guard. But for now, you must listen.

I love this part so much. It calls back to when Roman almost called Virgil paranoid, but then switched it to vigilant. Logan realised he was getting too worked up and angry and so stopped himself. This is great development from when he lashed out at Roman in Learning New Things About Ourselves. Calling Virgil “paranoid” is destructive and will make Virgil not feel listened to. He is aware of that. He is making sure Virgil still feels like he’s a valued part of Thomas’ mind.

another good remus screenshot

THAT IS WHY I SAY IT!

GOSH I LOVE LOGAN SO MUCH YES LOGAN GO OFF

I love being given two d’s at once!

Me:

Me: ...again what is happening

When Logan revealed that the problem was within Patton and Virgil, my heart dropped. I wasn’t expecting that.

Record scratch!?

I LOVE HIM AAAAA

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN AM I COOL DOES THIS MAKE ME COOL

OMG PRECIOUS BOI AAAA

I WAS SO SHOOK WHEN HE SAID HIS NAME JUST LIKE THAT

ALSO THAT SLY DIG AT VIRGIL AAAAA

oof. this sad boi. :”(

Oh shut up, Nerdy Wolverine!

OMG I JUST REALISED THIS IS WHAT ROMAN SAYS AT THE END AAAAA

I S C R E A M E D

we just witnessed a side die guys

the angst fanfiction is coming to life

The Duke only has power over you because Virgil and Patton believe that he does.

Hit me hard. I’ve never related more to a Sanders Sides episode.

This. THIS. So poignant and brilliant! This is how it feels!

good logan screenshot

Virgil was right. Not all thoughts are meaningful.

This idea is what helped me better deal with intrusive thoughts. Your brain just fires random thoughts at you, they don’t necessarily mean anything.

I mean, look at him now! He barely got any rest due in large part to you two chastising him all night!

I love how Logan tells them off. UGH I LOVE HIM

And that is why the Duke feels like such a threat, in part, at least. The feeling that you may be a bad person who doesn’t have control over yourself or your destiny, causes you to fear that you may actually act on these thoughts.

Gosh this episode is hitting me hard.

It’s okay.

Everything is okay.

Logan’s soft voice as he said that made me emotional. His whole speech here is so lovely and helpful. It is okay to have these thoughts cross your mind. You are not a horrible person.

His talk about going to therapy is amazing too. It’s so inspiring. It has encouraged me to want to go back to the therapy because of my recent increase in violent intrusive thoughts.

Oh my goodness, Patton’s realisation and development. This is lovely.

You tickle me, emo!

...was that a tickle me elmo reference

Good seeing you again, Virgil! It was just like old times!

Me:

Me: wAIT A MINUTE--

Oh shut up, Nerdy Wolverine! NO! Ugh...I mean...I’m sorry, Logan. I didn’t mean that.

THERE’S SO MUCH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT IN THIS EPISODE I CAN’T DEAL

Thomas: You’re really...cool.

Logan: ...heh.

Me: ACTUALLY SOBBING

THESE TWIN BROTHERS OH MY GOODNESS YES

It shows you...everything you don’t want to be.

There are some really hard hitting lines in this episode.

I’m a little disappointed in myself.

The others. I thought I knew how to handle them.

Yeah, but, I should know better.

Because I was one of them.

Virgil being insecure about his power and how much he can protect Thomas almost makes me cry. That last line...oh my goodness. Thomas and his team really know how to write a narrative. It seems that we’re gonna get some lore and backstory at some point after all.

Thomas and his team have done such a good job with this episode. It is my favourite Sanders Sides by far because of the fact that this topic has not really been talked about much, and they talked about it and showed what it’s like so brilliantly. I respect Thomas so much for pushing the boundaries of his channel to talk about this. Thank you, Thomas. I and and so many people needed this.

I realise that I need to go back to therapy. Thank you, Logan for encouraging me.

#ts spoilers #sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #remus sanders #dealing with intrusive thoughts #thomas sanders

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cherryvalances · 5 years

Link

November 25, 1964

“I hear Timmy Shepard’s coming home today,” Carla said the moment Mina set a chocolate milkshake on the tabletop.

Had it been just anyone, they would have missed the effects that name roused: the dose of vitality that shot up Mina’s spine, warming each vertebra on its way up; the squeak of the red vinyl booth as she shifted her legs over and under and back again, her cherry red lips spreading into a smile, then captured between her teeth, until smoothing into their usual pursed state – an evolution so quick Darwin wouldn’t have noticed. But Aunt Carla wasn’t just anyone.

“Angela called me the other night. Said he’s being released early on ‘good behavior.’ But I know it’s the overcrowding.” She retrieved a napkin from the pocket of her apron and placed it by her aunt’s hands, her eyes everywhere but where they should be. It was still cloudy outside, she noticed.

A hybrid expression encompassed Carla’s face, a thoughtless, knowing smile and something else Mina couldn’t name and didn’t particularly want to. “And, I hear,” the woman began, carefully stirring the milkshake into a frothy soup, “that there’s a party in his and Nicco’s honor tonight.”

Mina wondered who her contacts were for a brief moment, before annoying herself with her own stupidity. “Mhm, I’m heading over after my shift.” It wasn’t missing a shift at the restaurant that Carla was worried about, but Mina had been playing this game for a while, she knew how it went.

“Well, good. You’re always working, Mina. It’s time you dedicate some time to yourself and have fun.” But not too much, was always implied.

The older woman sipped happily on her milkshake, nearing its end, then paused and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Your grandfather invited some acquaintances to tomorrow’s dinner.” Her words were careful and deliberate. “Your cousin Damiano among them.” She folded the used napkin once, twice, then three times, her dark gaze drawn to her working hands.

Mina raised a brow at her aunt’s employment of the word ‘acquaintances.’ It wasn’t rare for her grandfather to invite outsiders to dinner sometimes, but he rarely provided a warning. “He believes them to be an excellent group of men, hopes you’ll think so, too.”

Recognition flashed in Mina’s blurry eyes and she nodded, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear, a small smile tugging at her lips and cheeks. “I hope so, too, zia.”

Aunt Carla mirrored her smile and drained her glass with a noisy slurp. “Thank you for the milkshake, topolina. I’ll see you later.” Carla slid out of the booth, the bench squeaking from the friction of her weight, and the fabric of her skirt, and the fact that that booth was notoriously noisy. The older woman began to gather her belongings, scooping up her scarf and her handbag from where she fished out a crisp five-dollar bill and laid it on the tabletop. Mina assisted her aunt with her coat, holding it up to provide easy access and kissed her goodbye.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, somewhere deep in the heart of Tulsa. She hummed as she wiped away the condensation that had dripped off the milkshake glass. The bill was stiff and heavy in her hand like it was fresh from the teller, Mina pocketed it, and thought about the untouched cherry in Aunt Carla’s glass. The man was still standing on the corner of Pickett and Sutton when Mina Santini left the diner. She had passed him on her walk to work for a week, each day growing more unsettled.

A group of women formed a half-circle around him, their eyes shining, eyebrows arched with intrigue. No one seemed particularly affected by his words, it was his presence that grounded them to the cement. Street preachers didn’t simply pop up on street corners on the North side. She spotted a few familiar faces in the crowd, matriarchs from her neighborhood cradling groceries or work uniforms, due to start the night shift when the clock struck seven or the preacher finally abandoned his post, whichever came first. “And where is God in all of this?” His clear voice rang, the first signs of sundown filtering through the dark clouds. A few in the crowd chuckled darkly. They knew the answer. Mina did too. God didn’t reside in the North side of Tulsa, he hadn’t in a while. She was halfway down the adjacent street before he could finish his monologue. She wrapped her coat tighter around her small form, each muffled bump of her bag against her thigh urging her to walk faster. Her cheeks were saturated pink as the wind rolled, ruffling the dark auburn locks that escaped the loosening grip of her ponytail. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was about the man that bothered her so. It wasn’t his ill-fitting suit or his scuffed shoes – poverty wasn’t exactly a rarity around these parts. Maybe it was the way he spoke, his voice heavy and jagged, like bolded text personified, too intrusive to bare for longer than a second. (Maybe it was his presence in general.) Mina had been to a Christian service in junior high once, the pastor had spoken in that same voice. It was a tactic employed to encourage visceral reactions from a passionate congregation, but on the corner of Pickett and Sutton, it highlighted his audience’s silence. November had brought its usual chill and she knew that if she didn’t hurry, the night would soon turn as dark as it was cold. It wasn’t the temperature she was worried about, every Tulsan knew better than to wander around the Northside lonesome, especially after sundown. The moon, with all her beauty, was only ever a witness and never a savior. The sun was settling with blues and purples on the horizon when she entered the alley behind the restaurant. The backdoor was ajar, and a sliver of warmth and light beckoned her, the muted sounds of the jazz band tuning up teasing her ears. Mina tugged on the thick handle, another world fabricating before her. The heart of Tierra Nostra was its bustling, lively kitchen. Waiters clad in black and white filtered in and out, balancing trays of drinks, entrees, and empty plates on their hands or shoulders. The numerous light fixtures provided a distinct contrast from the greying sky and dim alley and a flurry of scents greeted her. She closed the steel door behind her and wandered toward the line of hooks where employees kept their coats and hats and scarves, the heat from the ovens instantly relieving her chilled body. “Good to see ya, Mina!” Rafe called, his greeting instantaneous, he’d always had sharp eyes, they hopped from the tray he was nurturing to her wiggling figure. She was trying to remove her coat. It was her favorite for the same reason it needed replacing, it was snug on her arms, providing her with extra warmth when necessary, it was only a hassle now. “You say that every day, Rafe,” she laughed, amusement playing in her tone. She finally got the coat off and draped it over a lonely hook. She retrieved her apron, tossing the soft, white cloth over her shoulder. Her feet led her to the sink, the routine long since ingrained within her. Rafe placed the dark tray over his shoulder, “Coz every day it’s true,” he winked and disappeared behind the double doors before she could reply. A scoff escaped her upturned lips, she shook her head, turning the faucet on and pumping the soap dispenser until a generous amount resided on her palms. Dispersing it diligently for a few seconds, she contemplated the remainder of her day. Even if she wanted to skip the party, Angela wouldn’t stand for it, knowing her, she’d stomp over to her house – or annoy one of Tim’s boys to the point that they’d give her a ride – and push her off the bed and pout at her for being so boring. Aunt Carla was right, it’d been a while since she had fun and done something entirely for her own amusement. Angela said she worked too much. The smile that had been lingering over her lips since her interaction with Rafe rejuvenated, Angela always had that effect on her, it’d been that way for as long as Mina could remember and she reckoned it would stay that way ‘til the end of her days. She rinsed the suds off, drying her hands with her apron and tying it at her waist. The energy streaming in from the main room began to revitalize the kitchen, the stove burners blaring a little louder, the chefs’ words looping and rolling along to the jazz tunes. The atmosphere was coming together seamlessly, every employees’ heart seemed to thump in harmony. Mina tugged at the restrictive ribbon, her mass of dark hair settling against her back, and for a brief moment, she wondered if the preacher made it home safe. It’s her last thought before her dainty hands push the swinging doors, the jazz melodies cutting the rest of the world off. For the next few hours, only the souls at Tierra Nostra exist. Angela was standing on the crumbling sidewalk at the end of the block when Mina approached. The youngest Shepard had a cigarette between her plump, rosy lips and was tapping her right foot shamelessly. Angela’s eyes brightened when they spotted Mina’s figure under the flickering streetlight, she took another puff before hopping off the rounded corner and meeting her friend halfway. She wrapped her thin arms around the older girl, bending her wrist away so the cigarette didn’t sear her coat. “Minaaa,” Angela cooed, giving a small squeeze before pulling away. “I was boutta go lookin’ for you,” She frowned. Mina chuckled softly, “I would never miss this party.” “Yeah, but you would show up late for it,” she pouted, yanking lightly at a lock of Mina’s freshly washed hair with two fingers. Their eyes met and a smile blossomed on Angela’s mouth. “Okay,” she let up. Mina bumped their hips and the two giggled, making their way down the sidewalk to the Shepard house. Groups of teenagers stood around the lawn drinking from beer and pop bottles, a few greeted the pair but the music flowing from the backyard muffled most of the chatter. Angela pushed her way to the front door and opened it easily. The knob was loose and tended to refuse locking entirely. Mina allowed the younger girl to guide her inside, where a few familiar Northsiders lounged around the living room. “Mina!” Curly greeted from the kitchen, a big grin on his features as he strode over. He was a whole head taller than her and still growing. “Hi, Curly,” he brought her into a tight hug before Angela smacked his shoulder and he pulled away. “Nicco’s outside with Darry Curtis and his guys if you wanna see ‘im,” Curly informed as she removed her coat. Angela took it from her, shoving it into Curly’s arms. “He and Ponyboy were being pimples on the ass of humanity again,” Angela sneered, her big Bambi eyes staring daggers at her brother who simply cracked up with laughter. “It was funny as fuck, Mina, shoulda been there.” “Where’s Tim?” Angela snapped, peering up at her brother, voice sharp and impatient. “In the kitchen,” Curly threw a thumb in that direction with no real reaction to his sister’s childlike fury and walked down the hallway to deposit her coat. Angela gave her a look and rolled her blue eyes. Mina made a soft noise and grabbed Angela’s hand, pulling her towards the kitchen. Tim Shepard and a couple of his guys were talking loudly, animatedly. The Shepards are real lookers, she’s reminded when her eyes found Tim. Tim was a lean, muscled eighteen-year-old (he’d only been eighteen for twenty days then, no one talked about the fact that he’d come of age inside) who looked like the model JD in movies and magazines. He was tall – taller than Curly and that was saying something – and had wavy black hair, smoldering dark eyes, and a long scar from temple to chin where a vagrant had slugged him with a broken pop bottle a few years ago. There was something about Tim, there always had been. He was magnetic, electric. You couldn’t ignore him even if you tried, and Mina tried. He exuded character, he demanded attention. He wasn’t beautiful like Darry Curtis’s brother Soda, but he was attractive, nobody could deny it. Mina focused her eyes anywhere else as they passed through the kitchen towards the backdoor. Angela’s hand in hers like an anchor. The chilly night air greeted her skin, refreshing against the long sleeves of her blouse. The backyard was teeming with people bopping to an Elvis track. Inside, Tim Shepard’s lips were pursed together. He wasn’t a praying man but Jesus Christ, Mina sure had grown up while he was gone. “Happy Birthday, Nicco.” She murmured into her brother’s ear, her arms loosely looping around his neck. He was sitting on an old lawn chair, surrounded by Darry’s gang and a few others. She felt his strong chest rumble with laughter, “It ain’t midnight yet.” She planted a kiss on his cheek and stroked a few stray locks of dark hair off his forehead, “Well, yeah, but I wanted to be the first one to congratulate you.” Nicco smiled their mother’s smile, all nice teeth, and sincere, shining eyes. She caught the hand he placed on her elbow and gave it a light squeeze before disappearing into the crowd.

The night was winding down and Two-Bit Mathews, who she had always liked despite herself, had spun her around one too many times than her childhood dance classes had prepared her for. Steadying herself on the guardrail of the backdoor steps, she let out a small giggle, “I’ll be back!” She called out to Darry Curtis and he pouted his lips, glancing down at his empty beer bottle. She rolled her eyes, giggles still flowing from her lips, “I’ll get you some water too!” She carefully climbed the three steps and went over the threshold. She wasn’t drunk, but she did have a nice buzz going. She blamed Two-Bit for her haphazard balance. She closed the door behind, immediately encroached by the quiet. Tim Shepard, the other man of the hour, was leaned against the kitchen counter like he had hadn’t moved once tonight. He held a beer bottle in his large hand and she tried not to notice the new marks on his knuckles. At the door’s soft click, he glanced upward, and their gazes met. The buzz in Mina’s chest calmed and nearly dissipated entirely. “Ademina Santini.” He breathed out, his dark blue eyes scanning her up and down. He detected her state, recognizing the flush in her cheeks and the look in her eyes, though he’d only seen her like this a few times. He took another swig from the bottle in his hands. “Tim Shepard,” she acknowledged lowly. He said nothing as she opened the fridge and removed the jug of cold water. She served herself a glass, drinking slowly. Tim watched her intently, occasionally taking more swigs of his beer. Snores emanated from the living room, coloring the silence between them. Later, she’d discover Ponyboy and Curly, who’d knocked out on the living room floor. She refilled the glass and put the jug back, almost forgetting to get another beer for Darry. As nice as Mrs. Curtis was, her boys drinking was something she wouldn’t put up with. It made Darry a careful drinker, always sipping water in-between beers and making sure his stomach was full. “Thanks for lookin’ after Angel.” She turned to him and nodded slightly, avoiding his eyes. “I hope you had a nice time because I’m not doing it again.” They both knew that was a lie. Mina didn’t need an excuse to watch over Angela, she’d been doing that since she was thirteen. But things had been different then, before the Shepard gang, she had taken Angela under her wing because she wanted to, not because her big brother was away. “I’ve learned my lesson.” He hid his smirk; Mina’s intensity never bothered him. She was simply trying to make a point now, he knew they understood each other.

“Have a nice Thanksgiving, Tim,” she said, nearing the backdoor again.

You too, Mina.” ____

AUTHORS NOTE: I have been working and planning and nurturing this fic and character since June of 2017. Mina Santini and her story is something I hold really close to my heart. So I hope you all enjoy it! Feel free to comment all your thoughts and opinions below! (I desperately need the feedback.)

Mina and her family are Italian, so this story will feature plenty of Italian dialogue, below are some translations.

Zia - Aunt/Auntie Topolina - Little Mouse

#( fanfiction: tim shepard )#( ‘growing pains’ )#( mina santini )#( original characters )#( my writing )#( mine )

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getuponthehydrasback · 6 years

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Fragmentary Memories: Fanfic Preview

This is still a work in progress but I promised yall a rewrite with all of my head canons and its HAPPENING. Gotta love me my Trans! Sora The fic, pairing is SoRikai, with moments of every combination! PS This fic also includes REAL TECHNIQUES FOR DEALING WITH PTSD and Panic attacks

Tap Tap Tap the distant sound of rock against glass persisted againstthe calm sound of rain outside of the small room. On the bed sat a petite feminine figure of a person, crouched in a corner, their back pressed against the walls of their room, and their gaze fixed upon a tan paper, ink etched into its surface. It had become a nightly routine for the ‘girl’ to jot down her thoughts; it helped with the nightmares. On pages she could map out her deepest fears, that which were inarticulable to even those she held dear. The emotions that still ruminated in her soul, and weren’t yet ready to make themselves known. It was a practice she found to be almost sacred in that aside from being the arms (or sometimes plopped down ontop of or in between) of her two dearest people, eased the ever growing fear that nestled in her heart. Though this practice was sacred, she found herself snapped out of the moment by in incessant tapping.

“What on earth is that sound” she exclaimed as she pushed the curtains aside only to see a water drenched boy standing a story below, looking up solemnly at her. “Sora! What the hell are you doing out in the rain, you’ll freeze to death!” She exclaimed as she quickly opened her window.

“I know…it’s stupid but please …” he didn’t have to finish his sentence, Kairi saw the desperation in Sora’s eyes a look she hadn’t seen since the night that changed all of their lives. Without hesitation Kairi held her hand out to him knowing he could make the jump up into her window without rousing the attention of her sleeping grandmother a few doors down.

Sora backed up and ran towards the side of the house, skillfully using the leverage to jump up and grasp Kairi’s hand. Within a few moments he stood, soaked in the middle of her bedroom. “Thank you” he whispered softly, his voice husk and devoid of its usual playfulness. Kairi could make out the puffiness and faint red tint in his eyes and faint salt streaks along his cheeks almost washed away by the rain. Without saying a word Kairi reached out, clasping her hand in his giving him a gentle affirming squeeze. She didn’t have to know what happened or what was wrong, she only knew that whatever it was, it had shaken him to his core.

“Of course, is there anything you need right now, you’re soaked let me get you something to change into”. Kairi offered as she turned to go to her dresser. The suggestion sent a wave of nausea to the boys stomach and itch under his skin in protest; however all he could externalize was a faint defiant tug at her hand.

Drawing her attention back towards him Kairi tilted her head in confusion. Sora’s expression had quickly changed. There was a quick flash of fear, and storminess in his eyes, sending a wave of concern throughout her. Though she began to become increasingly worried about what could have possibly caused such a reaction out of him, she knew that remaining calm would be the best way help her friend. “No worries” she said softly, giving his hand another gentle squeeze. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Sora’s grip on her hand seemed to tighten at that statement as he averted his gaze. His body was tense, his breathing beginning to become increasingly shallow, as echos and images flashed in his mind.

We’ve had enough of this. You disappear for god knows how long doing god-knows what and you expect us to be okay with it? You’re delusional. You don’t know what youre walking about all of that stress has gotten to your head!

The voices and images of his parent’s anger continued to resonate over and over. His precious belongings, gone, his clothes gone everything. He couldn’t stop the recent memories, they replayed on repeat until he felt a gentle squeeze on his hand again, tethering him to the reality before him. Bringing him back into his body. His gaze darted around the room, taking in their surroundings.

“You’re safe” Kairi whispered softly as to not startle him.

“Sorry” he managed to choke out, worriedly “Sorry…sorry sorry” his words seemed more like expressions to himself, or an invisible other rather than to his friend as he repeated the words.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset, you’re safe…I will stay here with you as long as you need” she responded quietly. “Is it okay to hug you?” she asked to which Sora’s eyes widened and he frantically shook his head.

“Sorry” he replied again, his breathing growing more erratic.

“It’s okay, do you want to try some grounding exercises?” she asked, knowing that Sora’s condition would most likely escalate if he wasn’t able to ground himself soon.

Sora thought for a moment, or rather attempted to gather his scattered fragments of thoughts before slowly shaking his head.

“Okay, what’s five things you can see?” Kairi asked quietly, as she gently ran her thumb along the back of Sora’s hand in a soothing pattern.

Sora couldn’t formulate words but merely pointed to a few items in the room, each item slowly drawing his focus back from the fear ridden fog it had been in. He looked around, noticing the dimly lit lights, he pointed to the note book perched upon Kairi’s pale pink cotton sheets, the Crayon drawings of their adventures hanging on Kairi’s wall, the way Kairi’s face though relaxed, still showed concern in the faint furrow of her brow, the pale pink color of her nails as they brushed against his hand. Sora could only point at the things as Kairi gently urged him on.

“Good, what’s four things you can hear?” she asked again.

Sora closed his eyes for a moment taking in the sound of the rain pounding against the window, the sound of his own slowly stabilizing breathing, his occasional coughs and sniffles, the buzz of the heater, and the calming sound of Kairi’s steady breath. For each thing he heard he managed to choke out a single word indication.

“That’s excellent” she gave his hand another gentle squeeze “What’s three things you can feel?”

Sora thought for a moment, he could feel the gentle caress of Kairi’s fingers stroking his hand, their consistent motion soothing his racing thoughts. He could feel the fuzziness of carpet beneath his feet, as he’d ran over barefoot, and he could feel the cling of his damp clothes against his skin, and the tight nylon fabric of a binder pressed against his chest.

“I-I think…I’m okay…” he managed to respond, as he gave Kairi’s hand a gentle squeeze.

They stood just like that for a few moments in silence, as Sora gathered his thoughts, his breathing had stabilized and his incoherent memories began to solidify. After a few minutes he finally uttered.

“They threw out everything…they hate me…they’re…they’re going to disown me.” His voice cracked at the statement as tears began to fill his eyes. “Everything! All of my clothes, all of my belongings anything they thought was too boyish my parents through out! They screamed at me!”

Kairi felt a wave of anger course through body at Sora’s distress, at the way his usual happy kind eyes seemed so defeated, and broken. She clutched her free hand in a fist, trying to swallow her anger to be fully present for Sora but she couldn’t.

“Listen to me, they’re wrong. They are so incredibly wrong, whatever they think whatever they say, they’re wrong for treating you like that you hear me Sora?” She placed her hands gently on Sora’s cheeks to direct his gaze to her.

He stared back at her, eyes wide with tears. “You’re one of the strongest, kindest, loveliest boys I know, and if they can’t see that, if they can’t see all the things their sonhas done then theyaren’t worthy of you. You’re the boy who saved the universe for crying out loud. And they’re mad because what? They got your gender wrong? I’ll fight both of them goddamit.” Kairi tried her best to manage her anger.

Kairi’s words broke the floodgate Sora had been suppressing in his whirlwind panic. Relief, fear, sadness, hatred, visceral pain all bubbled their way to the surface as Sora reached towards Kairi, burying his face into the crook of her neck in a half attempt to muffle his sobs. Taking Sora’s lead on physical contact, Kairi wrapped her arms around him, gently placing the flat of her hand on his back, and gently rubbed circles into the damp fabric. They stayed like that for a few moments, Kairi’s arms firm around him as he fell apart.

Kairi had always known Sora’s parents did not approve of who he really was even before their journey across worlds, but she never imagined they’d do something as drastic as disown him. During their time on the islands when they were younger, Sora always passed himself off as a tomboy much to his parent’s disapproval. But spending so many years away from them, meeting new people, new places, had allowed Sora the freedom to be himself. No one questioned, no one knew, except her and Riku. Sora had grown into the young man he was always meant to be, and yet, his parents could not see him for who he really was. The thought angered Kairi, the pain they caused him sent her into a rage, but more important than her rage was her ability to comfort her dear friend. She continued to simply breathe deeply and rub soothing circles into the boys back.

After nearly twenty minutes, Sora had cried himself dry. All that he could make out were faint whimpers and sniffles. He’d tired himself out emotionally, his head throbbed and his eyes were puffy and red, contrasting against the electric blue of his irises. “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble…I should probably head back” he managed to whimper out.

“Heck no” Kairi responded adamantly “you’re staying here tonight, or going over Riku’s but no way are you going back to that hell house. You’re no trouble at all I’m glad you came here, and that you’re safe. I will always be there for you Sora, you know that” she gently cupped his cheek with a soft smile.

Sora glanced up at her, his gaze meeting hers for a moment. Her tender smile sending an ache in his chest, the contrast of her kindness against a growing wound he carried, her warmth contrasted against his own. He hadn’t quite realized how warm she was. In their years a part, the quiet girl, had grown to become a kind warm protector. The tenderness of her touch and the gentleness of her smile enveloped him in a sense of safety. Content with her offer he simply nodded and snaked his arms around her in a grateful squeeze.

“I can even call Riku if you want, and make it a sleep over.” She suggested as she began to shift around looking for her phone. “Though god I don’t know what would stop him from not storming over to your house and fighting your parents on sight if he finds out.” She said with a slight chuckle to lighten the mood as she began to step away to grab her phone. However her actions were stopped by Sora tugging her back closer.

“In…in a moment…” he responded softly, not wanting to lose the warmth surrounding him. He felt far to tender and exposed to break the moment.

Kairi let out a surprised huff, before settling back into him, wrapping her arms around him again. Sora in response nuzzled into her and closed his eyes.

Pt 2

#Kingdom Hearts #Fanfiction #Sokai #Sorikai #trans sora #WIP #FM Fanfic

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keelywolfe · 6 years

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FIC: Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

Summary: Good news does not come in late night phone calls, especially after midnight.

Tags: Prejudice Against Monsters, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Angst

Notes: A few people have asked me exactly what Edge does at the Embassy. The answer is 'a lot', but maybe this will give a little insight.

Also on AO3

By Any Other Name masterlist

~~*~~

Their room was not silent at night. Without some kind of white noise breaking through the quiet, Stretch slept restlessly which was an excellent way to ensure that Edge also slept restlessly. A fan seemed the easiest way to accomplish it, the gentle whir as soothing to Stretch as a lullaby, and Edge had grown so accustomed to it that he had a small portable one to take with him whenever he traveled with their diplomats.

In their bed, Edge was buried beneath the blankets, sleeping on his back with Stretch curled up next to him, one leg slung over both of Edge’s and the other poking out from beneath the covers, his bony toes twitching vaguely in the chill.

The shrill sound of the cell phone broke through the peacefulness. Edge’s emergency ringtone, chosen to waken him from even the soundest sleep. It hadn’t finished the first ring before he was sitting up, easing Stretch off of him to snatch up his phone.

He shook off any lingering sleep in an instant. “What is it?” He listened for a long moment. "I'll be right there." He hung up without saying goodbye, slipping out of bed and dressing methodically. In his thoughts he was already cataloging what needed to be done, what information was needed, who else needed to be contacted. The moment he stepped out of the closet a voice cut through the darkness and halted him.

"what's wrong?" Far too awake for Edge to hope he'd simply roll back over and go back to sleep.

"Nothing," he said, shortly. His attention was more on tying his boots and planning. Later, he would blame his distraction for not giving the question a better considered answer.

"seriously?” Stretch sighed out and it gave him a more serious pause. It was too dark for Edge to see his face, but it took little imagination to picture the disappointment that was surely on it. “that’s what you’re going with? your ‘oh shit’ ringtone goes off at fuck o’clock in the morning and you’re going with nothing? yeah, you're a terrible liar, you always have been. want a few minutes to come up with a story you could sell to netflix or do you just want go with the truth this time?”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Edge tried, which was true enough, although not what Stretch was asking. There wasn’t time for this.

“is someone hurt?” The fan was still whirring, burying nuances beneath the lull of white noise. It didn’t disguise the calmness in Stretch’s voice. The expectation of whatever terrible thing that he thought he was about to hear. Edge couldn’t keep this from him.

"Someone…no," he hesitated, trying to think of a way to better way to phrase it, a way to soften the blow. But no part of his life had ever taught him a gentle way to give ugly information. The best he could do was honesty. "The Beanery is on fire."

"...the fuck?" Stretch sat straight up, his voice cracking, "on fire?"

"They suspect arson. I need to get down there, Antwan is already on his way--"

The bed creaked, and he could hear blankets being flung aside. "i'm coming with you."

"You are doing no such thing," Edge told him, sliding his arms into a jacket.

"excuse me?"

Edge stilled and closed his sockets. That wintry tone cut through the detachment of his focus, bringing him up short. A visceral reminder that he was no longer the Captain in the Snowdin chapter of the Royal Guard to give orders and expect them to be obeyed.

The situation was pushing him blindly back into old habits, because he wanted Stretch nowhere near the Beanery. It was still on fire, there could be any number of traps, the perpetrators could still be there, waiting for Monsters to make an appearance. There were a dozen ways, two dozen, more, that this could end, and Edge was a strategist, that was his talent, his gift if one could call it that, one that Asgore used ruthlessly be it in negotiations or to assist with court cases. Standing here with his jacket half off, his feet cold against the floor, he was swallowed in the possibilities, he could picture all of the ways this night could go and so many ended in dust.

He took a moment, mentally choosing and discarding arguments. Stretch was not an emergency responder in any capacity, he didn’t even officially work for the embassy. There was no logical reason for him to come along, only emotional ones, and going on blind emotion was a quick walk down an exceeding short path.

Every argument he could think of remained unspoken. None of them were going to work and that left him with a last option, simply refusing to take him. That led to a scenario that Edge didn’t like to consider; Stretch making his own way down where Edge couldn’t see him.

No.

Stretch was an adult and his husband. He could make his own choices and Edge had to allow that whether or not he agreed with them.

But it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make a strategy of his own.

Antwan would already be in his car on his way; they needed information to counter any anti-monster sentiment that come up from this and it would, viciously. It always did. Time was ticking away but Edge moved to sit on the bed, taking one of Stretch’s hands in both of his own gloved ones.

"You will stay right with me," Edge told him, making it clear that he would brook no arguments on this. He wasn’t a captain, no, only an old soldier who needed to keep the person he loved safe, and that was a role he’d never be able to shake away. "Unless I am under attack, you don't take two steps away from me, no matter what you see, is that clear?"

Stretch nodded immediately. "okay."

"Promise me," Edge insisted.

He drew a little x over his chest with his free hand, "cross my soul."

It would have to be enough. "Let's go."

~~*~~

He could smell it first, acrid and heavy even though the car windows were closed, like a shadow of Underfell where smoke was always in the air, the taste of it coating everything, along with dust. Then over the crest of a hill were flashing lights shrouded in a smoky haze. He heard Stretch make a small noise next to him, but he couldn’t focus on that, not now.

Red would be here somewhere, gathering information in ways that were probably better not asked about. It was doubtful that they’d see him and there would be a tersely worded report on his desk tomorrow morning, utterly humorless, lacking any identifiers.

They had to park further away than he would have liked, in the back lot of a heath food store where the overhead lights were alarmingly dim. Edge battled every instinct he had to resist the urge to tell Stretch to walk behind him, shamefully relieved that he didn’t have to. Stretch had no training at all but his brother had and perhaps it was Blue who had taught him to keep two steps back and to the right, close enough to protect, far enough away not to interfere, and on Edge’s better side where a crack didn’t interfere with his vision.

He had a fleeting, foolish wish that he could hold Stretch’s hand, hating the way he was trailing cautiously behind him. It brought back unpleasant memories of his brother at his heels, his HP invitingly low, enticing others to try for LV that wasn’t nearly as easy as they’d expected.

He dismissed it immediately. Stretch had wanted to come; he would have to deal with his distress on his own, Edge couldn’t spare any focus on coddling him.

Edge didn’t linger, walked briskly through the various emergency vehicles with the same confidence that had carried him through the streets of Underfell. There were police officers and firefighters milling around, but the badge pinned to his coat that declared him a Representative of the Embassy kept them from questioning him. Antwan had told him over the phone they were expected, though he’d also warned him, unnecessarily, to be cautious and to keep back as much as possible to avoid even the perception of interference.

The blaze was mostly out, the building nearly unrecognizable. In the place of an inviting coffee shop was only the mangled remnants of a building frame that still glowed with charred embers, the shrubs at the front of the building little more than blackened twigs.

A faint sound came from his right and Edge dared a look to see tears streaming down Stretch’s face. He wondered if Stretch was remembering, as he was, sitting at their table not so very long ago while all the baristas gifted them with the picture that was currently hanging in their living room. The anguish on his husband’s face pierced through his impassiveness, scraping aside the cool detachment of his focus.

Red was going to rake him over the fucking coals, but Edge took Stretch’s hand in his own, squeezing gently, briefly, before letting him go. He didn’t dare any more than that, he needed his hands free. Just in case.

He scanned the area, taking in details that he’d note later in his report, looking for anyone out of place, anyone watching the fire with too much interest. There was nothing obviously suspicious, not yet. Ebott officers were speaking to the crowd of Humans watching the firefighters work and Edge made a mental note to get ahold of any of their findings. If they were reluctant, well, Edge could be very persuasive when it was required.

Antwan wasn’t in sight but that wasn’t unexpected; as a Human he was able to be a little more invasive of the officer’s space. As a black man, Antwan understood the need for caution as well as any Monster and often better. This was his world and he understood all too well the way it worked.

Near a collection of police cars, he caught sight of Debbie standing alone, colored by the flashing lights and looking small and strange in an oversized winter coat. The sight made his soul lurch painfully, a reaction Edge suppressed viciously. He hardly recognized the woman, accustomed to seeing her in tidy uniform or once, at the wedding, finely dressed.

(She’d danced with Stretch, laughing, she’d been kind to him, always, so very kind--)

Not in ragged sweatpants, her hair gathered hastily in a straggling ponytail. Not looking tired and perhaps sooty, older than she had ever seemed before.

He could tell the moment Stretch spotted her, too. He swayed next to him, taking a half-step forward and Edge held out an arm, holding him back.

“Don’t,” Edge warned. People under duress could do strange, terrible things. He didn’t want to believe Debbie would attempt to hurt either of them. He couldn’t allow himself to believe she never would.

He walked towards her, slower than he’d approached the parking lot, wary. Stretch was still mostly at his heels but his caution was waning as his concern rose.

"debbie!” Stretch called out when they were less than twenty feet away, the name bursting from him. Frustrating, but he could be forgiven for it, that single, raw word gave Edge clarity on his crumbling state of mind.

The human looked towards them, visibly startled and then instantly distraught.

"Stretch?" she called out and stumbled over to them. As she came closer, Edge could see her face was red and tearstained, and she reached out to take Stretch’s hands in her own, oblivious to the way Edge stiffened, magic flaring hotly in his fingers, unseen in his dark gloves. "Oh, sweetheart, you shouldn't be here! They think it was those anti-monster fanatics and the last thing I want is for you to get hurt over this!”

"i know," Stretch whispered. A wash of fresh tears streamed down his cheekbones. "oh, debbie, i'm so sorry.”

She let out a watery sounding sigh, pulling him into a careful hug. "I knew you would be, hun, and I appreciate the sentiment, but don't you go blaming yourself for this, all right? It wasn't your fault or the fault of any Monsters." Her smile was grim, and one Edge had seen before, on Monsters in Underfell who’d lost their homes, who’d gathered what remained of their already meager possessions and moved on. "And if those bastards think they are going to keep me down, they are very mistaken.”

She drew back and offered Stretch a kleenex, a bit rumpled but clean. He took it, wiping his face. “it’s not fair.”

"No one was hurt, that’s what’s important," she said quietly. "And this was just a building. I have insurance and with a little time, we're going to reopen the best damn coffee shop in Ebott."

"Speaking as a representative of the Embassy, we'd like to help in any way we can," Edge said, raising his voice to be heard in case anyone was listening. It was important to impress upon any eavesdroppers that she had allies, that the Monster community wasn’t about to abandon her.

She reached over and patted his cheekbone, and she would have never noticed the way he stiffened, struggling not to draw away. she would have no idea what the sharp flare of his eye lights meant, his vision washing over with crimson. Stretch would, but he said nothing, no flickering hint of disapproval.

"I know, sweetie, and I appreciate it,” Debbie told him. “I'll let you know, all right?" Her smile went wobbly. “Just don’t let this keep you out of my new shop? Please?”

“not a chance,” Stretch pulled her back into a hug and she quivered a little, pressing her face into his sweatshirt, her shoulders shaking. She was so tiny in comparison to Stretch, barely up to the middle of his rib cage. He knew Stretch’s HP but just now, she seemed like the fragile one, leaning her all her light weight against him and taking his support.

Around them, he could see others starting to approach them. Not Humans, other Monsters were showing up, pouring out of vehicles and heedless of the late hour. One by one they were going up to Debbie and hugging her, sharing their tears as they looked over to the remnants of the coffee shop. Of their sanctuary.

Foolish sentiment, all it was doing was gathering all of them in one place as an easy target. Edge stepped back, away from the crowd, and he was distantly surprised that Stretch obediently followed him. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been, Stretch had promised, and he stayed within arm’s reach even as Edge drew away.

Stretch was watching the crowd of Monsters around Debbie. He wouldn’t have seen the flash of crimson that Edge did, out of the corner of his eye, an instant of redness coming from the shadows, the gleam was both familiar and foreboding.

Someone was going to pay for this and the less Edge knew about that, the better.

-finis

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underswap papyrus #underfell papyrus #by any other name

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anoutlandishfanfic · 6 years

Text

SOM AU: Part Eleven: Not While I’m Around

You can find previous chapters here.

June 17th, 2016 Lallybroch. Claire

“What did you do?”

“Where did you eat?”

“Did you miss us terribly?!”

A chorus of excited questions swirled around Jamie and I the moment we stepped onto the terrace, forcing me to set aside the worries over my husband’s military orders for a moment or two. Maggie and Joan nearly tackled me in their attempt to welcome me at the same time and a laugh burst from my lips, much to my own surprise.

Maybe there would be a way to stay together.

“Mama Claire! Mama Claire!” Maggie tugged at my arm and I swept her up into my arms, my heart singing. She rested her head on my shoulder with a contented sigh, commenting, “I like calling you mama.”

“And I like hearing it,” I murmured past a lump in my throat, smiling down at her and the joyous faces of my children. It was official now and they were finally mine. They all pressed against each other and leaned into me, all trying to occupy the same space. Swallowing hard, I inquired, “What have you been up to while we were gone?”

Little Joan answered, beaming up at me as she held onto a fistful of my skirt, “We’ve been practicing!”

“Have you?” My brows rose in surprise, “What have you been practicing, love?”

“Our songs for the concert!”

“The what?” Jamie’s voice now added to the clamor. It was just at this moment that Ian entered the terrace, his approach masked by the children’s uproar, and Jamie turned to his closest friend and brother-in-law with a wry sort of grimace. “I suppose this is your doing.”

Ian grinned, placing a hand on my elbow in welcome, “On the contrary! Mother Hildegard had recruited them long before I had a chance to. Why didn’t you tell me they had such lovely voices, Jamie? That song they sang at the wedding was absolutely angelic.”

“Mother Hildegard?” Jamie’s gaze now turned to me.

In the busyness of planning the wedding, I’d completely forgotten about L’Hopital’s annual benefit, which was always the eighteenth of June.

“But that’s tomorrow!” I exclaimed, my stomach clenching.

“Delightful timing, isn’t it?” Ian’s eyes took on an impish gleam as he winked at me. “They’ve everything they need and they already know the songs. Just think of it! They’ll be the grand finale! Seven children in one family… and now they’re the heart’s delight of one of L’Orphelinat very own! A happy ending, if there ever was one.”

“No,” Jamie shook his head, his voice firm, prompting an uprising of dismay from the children. “They willna be singing tomorrow.”

“Oh, but we’ve been practicing all day, Father!” Marsali wailed.

He silenced her with a look, then, gesturing towards the house with a jerk of his head, asked of Ian, “A word with ye, aye?”

Ian registered my drawn features for the first time and nodded solemnly, following Jamie back the way we’d come. Ellen picked up on the growing tension and met my gaze, her eyebrows furrowing in a silent question she’d been raised not to ask aloud.

What’s going on?

I gave her a weak smile in answer and she nudged Brian who, always hungry, suggested we find a snack.

“It’s nearly time for dinner, sweet,” I reminded him. “But that’s not a half bad idea. Why don’t you all get cleaned up and then maybe you can show me what you’ve been working on.”

They all readily agreed to this and we set off together towards the house.

…

I found the men in the library, sharing a healthy dram of whiskey as they hatched a plan… one I refused to enact.

“No,” I stated defiantly as they tried to convince me of its merits. “We are not remaining behind.”

“I have to go,” Jamie wearily tried to explain, his hand reaching out pleadingly for mine.

I took it instantly to stem any further justification for splitting up the family, as well as out of an urgent need to touch him, to be near him.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean we can’t go with you.”

He shook his head. “That would only place you and the children in danger. It’s me he wants.”

“I very much doubt that,” my throat constricted as I thought of the man who had stood before me not an hour before. “He won’t stop until he has the both of us back under his control and you know it.”

I felt Jamie flinch, his visceral reaction a jolt of fear running from his body into mine. He must have caught the tone of near panic in my voice, for pulled me closer and onto his lap.

“Aye, I ken it well,” he murmured into my neck as I held onto him tightly, “but you are safest here at home.”

“You are my home.”

I slid my eyes shut as he leaned back into the deep, leather chair with a heavy sigh, taking me with him.

“Sorcha…”

“Don’t ask me to forsake my vow to you, James Fraser,” I pleaded, pressing hips against him, my hand over his heart. His pulse was erratic as mine was, but we both slowed into sync as I murmured, “Where you go, I will go and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God, my God. Where you die, I will die and there I will be buried…”

I won’t let even death separate you from me.

“Be it so,” Jamie finished when I could not, his voice low with a sincerity and earnestness that came from deep within his heart, “or may the Lord punish me greatly.”

He kissed me then, taking the very breath from my lungs. I didn’t know what it would mean, or where we would go, but it would be together… or not at all.

A delicate cough came from the room’s only other occupant and yanked us from our reverie.

“If we can get you to France,” Ian interrupted, a wide grin on his face with a hint of moisture in his eyes, “I think we might be able to pull it off.”

…

Dinner was a tense and solemn affair, even with Ian present. The children all knew something was afoot and it made them revert to all of the habits I’d worked so hard to break them of. Brian egged Marsali on to the point of armageddon, which set Ellen on their case and made her snap at Maggie for spilling her milk, which in turn ruffled Willie’s feathers and promptly sent Joan into a fit of nervous tears.

Seeing that they were all to the point of near hysterics, I suggested, “I think it might be time for me to take the children upstairs, Jamie.”

He looked up absently from his food and nodded, silently dismissing us all from the table before returning to his meal. How he had any appetite at all was beyond me. I gladly left my plate behind in favor of the sanctuary of the children’s rooms. We all filed out and made our way to the stairs as quickly as possible, none of us wanting to linger in the room where stiff formalities and unspoken dangers hovered near.

Teeth were brushed and faces washed in the usual efficiency, but once in their pajamas, all sense of normalcy evaporated. Maggie took hold of my hand as I tried to leave their room to check on the boys, digging in her heels and forcing me to stop dead in my tracks.

“I don’t want you to go!”

I looked down at her in concern, “I’m not going anywhere, love. Just stepping across the hall for a moment. I’ll come right back to read you a story.”

“No!” she dissolved into tears on the spot.

Alarmed, I caught sight of Marsali standing in the doorway, looking very much like she was ready to go to war with the entire world. Her hair free of its usual bonds and her arms crossed firmly, she was a force to be reckoned with.

“What’s going on?” I swallowed hard as I picked up the wailing four year old and asked of her sister, “What’s wrong?”

My fears raced ahead of me, imagining the worst had happened while Jamie and I were way… and Randall was here.

“Father got his orders, didn’t he?” Marsali jaw clenched as she tipped it up in defiance.

My heart sank as I remembered that this had happened to them several times before. Jamie would receive word and be gone for months at a time, returning without warning and often in a mood that the children dreaded. He’d be dissatisfied with anything and everything they did and the smallest things could send him into a funk that would last days on end.

I nodded and Joan joined Maggie in her tears. I hadn’t a clue as to what to say. Jamie and I hadn’t discussed how much of our plan we’d tell the children and I could never lie to them.

The truth in its simplest form would be my assurance.

Sinking to my knees and reaching out to her, Joanie ran to me. Marsali was slow to follow, but follow she did, and I soon had all three of them in my embrace. Knowing without looking that Ellen, Jenny, Willie, and Brian had taken their place in the doorway. I spoke softly, but confidently.

“We will stay together.”

…

Jamie met me in the hallway. His eyes came alive as I padded softly out of Joan and Maggie’s room.

“Asleep?”

“Mmm,” one corner of my mouth lifted in a tired smile, “only just.”

He stepped forward and swept me up off of my feet, into his arms. It took me by surprise but I didn’t object, choosing instead to bury my face in his neck and melt into him. The bergamot and amber of his cologne mingled with a deeper, richer scent that I could only describe as his and I sighed as the balm of his nearness permeated into the core of my very soul.

We moved silently down the hallway and my pulse quickened as I realized we were headed to the master bedroom. My head knew that I would not be returning to my own room, which was on the other end of the wing, and that my belongings were now arranged with his, but my heart hadn’t quite fully realized just what exactly what this would all mean.

Our room.

Jamie paused and shifted me slightly as he turned the knob and nudged the door open. This accomplished, he looked down at me.

“Come to bed with me?” he murmured, a low hush that matched the desire in his eyes.

My lips hovered above his, my breath catching as warmth began to spread across my cheeks.

“To bed… or to sleep?”

A low chuckle rumbled through him and I had my answer. He eased us into the room, turning so I could shut the door with my feet. The click of the latch sent a thrill through me and I felt it’s echo in Jamie, a magnetic sensation that drew his lips to mine. We met with an electrical shock that ignited something within me that I hadn’t experienced the night before.

I had wanted him then, but I needed him now.

I opened my mouth to his and pulled him closer, my fingers grasping at the nape of his neck. This primal, overwhelming hunger for him was as exhilarating as it was foreign, a sensation unknown and one I eagerly submitted to. Jamie turned me in his arms and the floodgates opened as I felt the bed materialize beneath me. My back arched, my hips searching for his as I tugged at the hem of my dress, easing it from between us. His trousers now shed, Jamie climbed onto the the bed with a low groan and ushered me into the center of the enormous mattress. He kissed my neck, a quiver of delight running through him as he realized I wasn’t wearing anything to hinder him beneath the crumpled folds of my cotton sundress.

“Why, Mrs Fraser,” he purred, “I believe you’ve forgotten something.”

I sighed as he settled his weight onto his elbows, “On the contrary, it was intentional.”

He lifted his head, his eyes bright with laughter as he moved to brush a stray curl out of my eyes, but suddenly froze. His brow furrowed as he slowly reached out his hand to pluck something out from between the pillows. He instantly dropped it onto the bed like a hot coal and yanked me away from it, nearly dislocating my shoulder in the process. I cried out in pain and frustration, confused as to why he’d do such a thing, but then I saw — and smelled — what he had.

It was a lace sachet of lavender.

My stomach rolled and my head spun at the fragrance as I scrambled right over the edge of the bed and onto the floor. Jamie was at my side in an instant, but it wasn’t him that I felt when he placed a hand on my arm. I jerked free, digging my heels into the plush carpet as I recoiled, moving a full body’s length away from him before I even realized what I was doing. I shook my head, trying to find my real surroundings amid the mirage around me. I kept moving, sliding my back along the solid framework of the wall until Jamie stopped me.

His bulk kept me from smashing into a large, wooden trunk, but his touch didn’t linger as he demanded, “Tell me what you see, Sorcha.”

My heart beat wildly in my chest and I could hardly breathe, let alone speak. I shook my head desperately, but he insisted.

Tell me what you can see.

I saw my quarters on base.

I saw the supply closet shelves.

I saw the stark, white walls of the exam room.

I saw nothing at all.

“No,” I choked out.

Jamie moved closer, his warm, solid presence bumping against my legs as I hugged them tightly to my chest. His chin settled on my knees, his nose barely an inch from mine. I blinked once, twice, and tried to focus on the face before me instead of the one ingrained in my memory.

“What do you see, a nighean?”

I swallowed hard, hiccuping, “You.”

“Good,” he crooned. “What do you feel?”

My hands and feet were numb as I sat there, gasping for air. I moved them slowly and tried to regain some semblance of tactile function, but had very little success. Jamie took hold of my hands, bringing them to his lips, clasping them against his heart.

“What can you feel?”

His heart beat beneath my palm, it's rhythm quick but sure. Each pulse came at steady intervals and tugged at mine to do the same, guiding me out of my abject terror and into a hazy fog of disorientation.

“You,” I gulped, tramping down the urge to pull away and tried to mimic his patterns of inhaling and exhaling. I let out a shuddering sigh as he pulled me into his arms, cradling me gently against his chest.

“What do you smell?” came his next question and I was calm enough now to know what he was doing.

He was grounding me.

I’d witnessed the technique in triage, but never thought to use it myself. With each sense, he was pulling me away from the chaos inside my head and securing me to something that was not connected to my demons. He became my anchor, the point to fixate on as I fought to regain control of my body.

“That bloody lavender.”

He flinched and I knew it’d had a similar effect on him, though he’d managed to keep his wits about him.

“Tis gone,” he assured me hastily, his thumb gently stroking my cheek, “I threw it out the window.”

Good.

“He was here,” I murmured rather unnecessarily. “In our home — in our room, Jamie — and he’ll be back tomorrow to make sure you report, I know it.”

His arms tightened around me, “Aye, mo chridhe.”

“Do you think the plan will work?”

“It must,” he vowed, “for I willna let him have his way.”

Pressing my cheek against his chest, I tried to find Jamie’s usual warmth. His body temperature was always higher than mine it seemed, but we were both chilled to the point of trembling just now, our hearts cold at the prospect of facing our attacker once again.

“You’re shivering,” Jamie mumbled into my neck, his lips cold against my skin.

“You aren’t much warmer.”

He managed a smile as he brought the both of us to our feet, leading me around the bed and through an enormous closet. His head turned to scan the clothing as we passed and he paused only a moment to whisk two plush robes from their place. An open doorway brought us into the biggest bathroom I’d ever seen. It boasted a full sized tub, next to which he deposited the robes. To call it a bathtub really wasn’t doing it justice, for it was nearly as large as a swimming pool.

Jamie perched me on the edge of it as he let go of my hand for only a moment, flicking on the water and pouring in a healthy amount of soap from a small vial as he did so. I steeled myself, knowing that most bath soaps contained at least a hint lavender, but was completely undone by the overwhelmingly soothing scent of chamomile and honey instead.

He brought me back up to my feet and began to unbutton my dress, slipping the sleeves over my shoulders and pulling his own shirt up over his head. Jamie’s hands slid over my hips, pulling me close for a kiss that began to loosen every knot inside of me. We came apart only long enough to step into the tub and lowered as one into the rising water.

I climbed onto his lap once he’d moved into a comfortable position and his strong arms wrapped around me, not allowing for even a breath of space to come between us.

“Warmer or cooler, a nighean?”

“Warmer,” I murmured, my lips brushing against his neck as I pressed my cheek against his broad shoulder.

He reached out and adjusted the water’s temperature, guiding it into perfection before taking something from the array of bottles on the side of the tub. I heard him squeeze some of the contents into his hands and warm it between them. Gently massaging it into my skin, he started at my shoulders and slowly worked his way down my back. I relaxed under his touch and the thick scent of honey coated my senses. The safe, sweet fragrance lulled me into contented haze as Jamie turned off the water and a hush fell over the room. I slowly lifted my head and found his lips once more, the heat of his touch as intense as that of the water surrounding me. My arms slid from his shoulders, my hands traveling across his pectorals and around his ribs to pull him tighter against me.

“Sorcha,” he murmured. His gaze was as protective as it was passionate, his blue eyes fierce with a strength of will that attacked the strongholds of fear in my heart. “You’re safe.”

“For now,” I whispered hesitantly, the fog of suspended time thick around my head.

Jamie’s hands rose from the water to frame my face, his warm palms pressing against my cheeks. “No’ just for now, mo nighean donn… for always, I give you my word.”

A shiver ran down my spine as I shook my head slowly. He meant what he’d said and would protect the children and I at the cost of his life, I knew, but none of us were safe as long as Jack Randall was alive. It didn’t matter where we went or what we’d planned to do. From the dawn of tomorrow on, we were in danger.

“Randall willna hurt you again,” he vowed, nuzzling my ear and stilling my movements.

“No’ while I’m around, mo chridhe.”

#Outlander #outlander fanfic #sound of music au #som au #part eleven #not while i'm around

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batkatbrown · 7 years

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Neko’s Patreon Reward! <3

The apartment was quiet except for the subtle hiss of the humidifier beside Jesse’s bed. It struggled valiantly against the dry, dusty air coming through the base’s ancient central heat. Jesse’s breath rattled in his chest like a desert wind over bleached white bones and he rolled onto his side.

“Athena?” his voice croaked and broke into a cough.

The AI was quick to answer, her tone apathetic as always. “Yes, Agent McCree?”

“Put in for sick leave for me today?” A hopeful smile tilted up the corners of his mouth as if the guardian of the base could see him.

“Your current body temperature is 102 degrees fahrenheit. Medical will be dispatched. Notifications of sick leave will be sent.”

“Thanks darlin’,’” Jesse rested his sweaty head back on the pillow and tugged his blanket higher. He ignored the distant sounds of the base rumbling through day to day operations and fell back into the surreal dreamscape.

When his door opened half an hour later, he barely stirred. On base, he slept deeply and without fear of a knife between his ribs and the only people who could override the lock where medical staff and higher ranking officers.

“Jesse?”

His eyes popped open, red rimmed and puffy and the gunslinger poked his head out from under the blanket. The room was dim, blinds shut. He blinked rapidly, trying to bring it into focus as a dark figure hung up a coat by the door. Paper bags in his arms crinkled loudly as he set them down on the kitchenette counter.

A cooling breeze drifted in with the familiar if unlikely figure. Probably the fever, Jesse thought to himself as none other than Hanzo Shimada walked to his bedside.

“Hey there darlin’,” he groaned as the words sent pain scattering down his throat. It felt pretty real but he was sure the man in front of him wasn’t.

Especially when Hanzo sat on the edge of his bed and leaned over him with a worried expression. “You are sicker than Athena reported. Perhaps I should get Angela after all.”

“I could run a marathon for onna your smiles,” Jesse reached up, ignoring the fact that he had two right hands, and ran his fingers over the sharp cut of Hanzo’s cheek. “There it is... “

Hanzo’s cheeks went pink and fuzzy at the edges as he shook his head. “I should have known you would be even more ridiculous while sick.”

Jesse tried to wink but he wasn't sure he managed it. His head was so heavy and he rested fully back into the pillows. “Can’t help it. Been dreaming of getting you into bed for ages.”

Hanzo snorted with a roll of his eyes and Jesse was sure his heart skipped a beat. Or maybe he was just dying. They seemed equally likely.

“Then be thankful that Lucio has distracted Angela with a new concept for her healing staff,” Hanzo stated as if that made sense. Jesse couldn’t understand a word as Hanzo tugged his flesh arm into his lap.

Cool fingers ran along the flushed skin and petted through his arm hair. “I will administer the nanite shot and stay to monitor your recovery.”

“Playing nurse?” Jesse chuckled but it soon died out. He was too tired to seduce the fever Hanzo and his throat was aching again.

“I do not play at anything.” Hanzo tisked lightly before wiping down his shoulder and Jesse looked away as the needle disappeared into his arm. “Sleep and you will feel better when you wake.”

Jesse nodded weakly against his pillow and used the last of his strength to pull Hanzo down into bed with him.

Hanzo tucked a strand of damp hair behind his crush’s ear with a sad smile. Another time he might have been delighted to have an excuse to share a bed again. They had on missions from time to time and Hanzo still remembered how deeply he had slept.

McCree’s breathing had evened out some time ago and the fever seemed to be breaking. Hanzo rubbed small circles on the gunslingers scalp till the tight line between his eyebrows finally relaxed. The casual touch would not have raised suspicion even if Jesse had been awake.

The most physically affectionate of the entire team, Jesse was known for encouraging bonding through hugs and shoulder massages and had even given Hanzo a foot massage before. He shivered at the memory and tilted his hips away from Jesse before the visceral reaction could be detected.

Hanzo rested his head back on McCree’s bicep and tucked his forehead against the man’s neck. He’d already taken a booster to ward off catching it himself thanks to Angela. She had raised an eyebrow at his offer to take care of the sick agent but given the medkit to him anyway. After living on his own for almost a decade, Hanzo was well versed in the medical arts.

He chuckled at the thought of himself as a nurse. He could take classes with Overwatch to become registered though the thought of Jesse in a nurse’s cheesy outfit was far more agreeable.

He groaned softly at the thought and his grip around Jesse’s waist tightened. It was foolish to think McCree cared for him more than he did all of his teammates. The flirting was no indication of actual affection or desire.

“You are my first thought upon waking,” hanzo murmured. “Your smile brings flowers to bloom in my heart where i thought nothing could ever grow again.”

Jesse snored in response.

Hanzo laughed into his hand and gently rolled Jesse onto his side before slipping out of bed to refill the humidifier. He helped himself to Jesse kitchenette to start a simple soup with the groceries he had pilfered from the main kitchen.

Chicken and noodle soup was soon bubbling on the single burner. The scent filling the room with a teasing aroma and Hanzo wasn’t surprised to hear rustling behind him.

“You remembered?” Jesse’s voice already sounded better.

Hanzo ignored the question as he ladled soup into a bowl and added it to the tray. He filled a glass of orange juice and set a sleeve of crackers by the bowl before carrying it to the cowboy.

“Damn, smells good.” Jesse’s tired face scrunched up into a familiar pug like smile and Hanzo struggled not to lean down and kiss him.

His hands shook slightly as he set the tray down on the bedside table. “Nanites can only do so much.” He wiped his hands lightly on his jeans, suddenly unsure where to look. “It is nothing.”

“Nah, it’s definitely something.”

Hanzo started when Jesse’s cool robotic hand trailed down from his elbow to his fingertips.

“Look at me? If you’re not just a fever dream.”

“How would looking at you prove that.” Hanzo snorted but turned his face back to the man with a small smile. “If I am just a figment of your sickness, what would you do?”

“Kiss you.”

The bird in his chest lashed against his ribs. Jesse gently pulled on his hand but Hanzo did not let himself be pulled down to the bed.

“And if I kissed you back?”

“I’d be the happiest man in the world.” Jesse rested against the pillows, hair spread out around his head. “Even happier if you fed me some of that soup afterwards.”

Hanzo chuckled, covering his face with one hand. “Very well, try to sit up.” Hanzo slide into bed with McCree and helped him get his back to the headboard. The man listed to the side, leaning heavily against him. Soft brown hairs tickled his nose as he rested his head against McCree’s with the soup bowl in his hands.

“You will need to sit up more to eat.”

“But I ain’t gotten my kiss yet.” Jesse waggled his eyebrows. The charm was ruined as he burst into a fit of coughing. Hanzo lifted the food out of the way as the cowboy rocked the bed with his convulsions.

“Try to get it out.” Hanzo advised and switched out the soup for a glass of juice and kleenex. No stranger to Jesse hacking up half a lung when he went too long between treatments, Hanzo let Jesse get the phlegm out in peace.

Tossing the ruined kleenex in the trash, he was there to wrap an arm around Jesse’s shoulders. “Here. Drink.” Hanzo hummed encouragingly as Jesse managed to sip most of the glass between long slow breaths.

“Gotta admit, it’s nice being babied a bit,” Jesse managed a smirk that had Hanzo’s heart beating faster. “Could get real used to it.”

“I am sure you could,” Hanzo tugged lightly on Jesse’s nose in reprimand. “You are barely better than a child on your best days.”

A shiver went through Hanzo, through his bones, through his soul as Jesse pressed a kiss to the heel of his palm.

“You make the flowers in my heart bloom too, darlin’.”

#mchanzo #overwatch #sfw #fic #ficlet #drabble #patreon

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holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight · 7 years

Text

Camouflage

Summary: After waking up in the middle of the night after his reconciliation with Magnus, Alec contemplates where to go from here.

Rating: T

Genre/Tags: Romance, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Healthy Communication, Good Parabatai Jace Herondale

Author: dylanobrienstyler

A/N: Title derived from the Selena Gomez song of the same name. Post 2x20. Found this from shortly after the season ended in my drabble - I don't think we'll be getting anything like it in the new season but who knows! Figured I'd post in case anyone else is as desperate for healthy communication between fictional characters as I am.

Can also be read on AO3.

Alec woke suddenly, the disorientation from coming out of deep slumber making it hard for his brain to catch up to his body's actions. His hand had slipped under the bed to pull out his spare seraph blade and his heart was pounding in his chest. He stumbled to his feet, glaring into the darkness as if waiting for an attack.

His eyes burned from the sudden forced opening, and he scrunched them shut as he shook his head to clear the fuzziness.

The automatic response of a soldier was to prepare for attack when his body was having such a visceral reaction, but now that he was breathing evenly, he caught on that the panic running through his veins did not belong to him.

Magnus hadn't stirred yet, Alec's swift movements also graceful in nature so they didn't jostle him, and he slipped out of the room just as quietly in an attempt to keep it that way. He knew Magnus had drained a lot of magical energy earlier, and he wanted him to get the rest he deserved.

Taking a deep breath, trying not to let his anxiety overwhelm him, Alec speed-dialed Jace's number once he located his phone. He knew now who the emotional outburst belonged to.

Jace answered after a couple rings, and Alec let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Hey."

"Hey." Alec replied, hovering awkwardly in the main living area of the loft, not really sure what he wanted to do with himself. "Everything okay? I felt… Well, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Jace said, but it was missing its usual confidence, and Alec frowned.

"Jace… You may be able to hide what's going on from everyone else, but not from me. Please talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

He heard Jace exhale through his nose, but he didn't sound irritated. Just like he was gathering his strength.

"Look, it's not… it's not a big deal, okay? I just had a weird sort of… panic attack, I guess."

"Is this because of what happened at Lake Lyn?" Alec asked, making sure to keep his voice low so as not stir his sleeping boyfriend.

"I… Yes."

Alec felt a surge of relief mixed with defeat stem from their parabatai rune, and Alec knew this was about to be a much bigger conversation. Needing the cool air to clear his head, Alec stepped out onto the balcony. The rain catapulting from the clouds made the moisture stick to his skin and it helped calm his nerves.

"I know something more happened there. But I didn't want to press you in front of everyone else. Do you want to talk about it?"

Jace was quiet on the other end for the moment. "Just… don't blame her, okay? She… she was acting out of grief. She doesn't know enough about our world to know the consequences that might follow such a powerful thing…"

Clary. Although a constant pain in his side at times, he had grown to care for the redheaded girl, despite his better judgment. She had shown some outstanding strength and fit into the Shadowhunter role very quickly for someone who had grown up entirely mundane, and she became very important to the people he too cared for so it was inevitable that she be welcomed into his restrictive inner circle.

"What did she do?"

"When Valentine raised the Angel, he didn't get a chance to grant his wish. So Clary wished for me to come back to life."

The silence lingered between them, stretching on as Alec absorbed the impact of his confession.

"By the Angel." Alec breathed out, rubbing a hand over his furrowed brow. He knew he had felt Jace die. He felt the part of his soul coiled around the part of Jace's snap and die off in time with his brother. He saw the rune disappear from his skin. He lost the anchor that was the other Shadowhunter to his soul. He had had a part of Jace as a part of him for half of his life—the emptiness of being the sole inhabitant of his body was a crushing weight and he had felt it instantly.

Alec pushed aside his own feelings from earlier in the day, the utter despair he felt losing his parabatai, and focused on the living, breathing one he had on the phone.

"What's happening to you now?"

"I don't know. It's like…" He paused, searching for words to explain something indescribable. "It feels like there's something in my body trying to get out. Or take over. I don't know. I don't know how to even figure out what it is. I don't know anyone else who has come back from the dead and didn't end up demonic or worse."

Alec closed his eyes, leaning onto the railing with his forearms. "We'll figure this out, Jace. I promise. I'm not losing you again."

"I'm sorry. I can only imagine how you felt."

Alec shook his head, despite Jace not being able to see him. "It doesn't matter now. You're alive. We can handle everything else, together."

A calmness swept through his veins, and Alec smiled as he realized he had said the right thing. The relief and freedom from guilt made it clear that Jace had been itching to tell someone about everything, and that their conversation had been good for both of them.

"Thanks, Alec. I should let you go. Aren't you at Magnus'?"

Alec's brows came together. "How did you know?"

When he had asked Magnus to talk at the Hunter's Moon during the celebration party, he hadn't been sure how the conversation would go, so he hadn't told anyone where he was going since it may have been a quick exchange. But he was pleasantly surprised to find Magnus on the same page as him, eager to move forward and be better, as a couple again.

"I can feel you too, remember? You're always more relaxed when you're with him. That's why when you don't come to the Institute to sleep or when you're missing at any point, I don't worry. You feel more... at home when you're with him."

The corner of Alec's lips turned upwards. Magnus' place was home, but even more so was the man himself.

"But I don't think things in paradise are back to how they were yet. You've felt more jittery than usual the past few hours, and that's not like you. Ever."

Alec licked his lips, mulling over how to explain his feelings when he wasn't good at confronting them let alone confessing them. But with Jace, it was a little easier. Especially since he couldn't exactly hide much from him.

Long-time adolescent crush notwithstanding.

"I… I'm afraid I'm going to screw things up again." Alec admitted. "I'm just hyperaware of every move I make, everything I say… And all I can think is that the clock is just counting down until I ruin everything. Again."

He was glad Jace couldn't see him. The rain wasn't the only thing wetting his cheeks now, and he hated his tear ducts for betraying him. At least he had managed to keep his voice steady, even if Jace could probably feel the squeezing pain of his fear.

"Alec…" Jace's voice was gentle now. "You and Magnus love each other. You're meant to be together. And not everything is your fault—you had some difficult choices to make and so did he. What matters is that you choose each other now, and that you talk to each other. You shouldn't be bottling this anxiety—you should be telling him about it. Maybe he feels the same way."

"Well that's impossible to know with him since he's always trying to play it cool."

He meant for his voice to sound more irritated than it did.

Jace chuckled, clearly noting the affection in his voice. "Alec, talk to Magnus. Tell him how you're feeling. You know I'm not one for feelings and especially talking about them at length, but look, you two have something special. And if you and me talking right now proves anything, it's that sometimes it really does help getting everything out in the open, even if the unknown still hangs in the balance."

"You're right." Alec sighed.

"When am I not?"

Jace sounded much more like himself now at least, and Alec rolled his eyes. "I also hate you."

"Sure, sure. Tell that to my parabatai rune."

"Now I'm thinking I should've picked Izzy."

Jace laughed, a sound Alec hadn't realized until then that he hadn't heard in a while. "Go. Talk to your man. And you know I'm here for you when you need it."

"Right back at you. G'night."

"Night."

The call ended and Alec slipped his phone into the waistband of his pajama pants.

He let the damp wind roll over him, eyes closed as he let the familiar sounds of the city soothe his overactive brain.

"Alexander?"

Alec turned around quickly to find Magnus hovering in the doorway, eyes watching him carefully.

He wondered how long he had been there.

"Hey. I hope I didn't wake you."

"You didn't. Is everything okay?"

Alec opened his mouth to say one thing but closed it as he realized he should be saying the opposite. Jace's advice nagged him, and he wondered how to approach the topic.

Magnus joined him on the terrace and reached out for his hand. Alec immediately intertwined their fingers, feeling himself calm instantly at his touch.

It was easy to forget everything when Magnus was nearby, but he knew he had to grow up and push through the awkwardness to get them to the place he wanted them to be. He didn't want to walk on eggshells anymore.

"Something's troubling you. Please tell me what I can do." Magnus told him, his free hand pushing back Alec's damp hair.

Alec exhaled. "Well, I woke up because Jace had some sort of weird panic attack. I just wanted to make sure he was okay. He's fine—it was just residual from everything that happened earlier."

Magnus nodded, but Alec pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry. No. That's not entirely true." He sighed. "Jace told me that Clary was granted a wish from Raziel, and that it was to bring Jace back to life. And now he's having weird side effects; the consequences of such a powerful force touching him I guess."

Magnus' eyes were round. "Wow."

Alec nodded, but his eyes found the balcony floor, his strength wavering.

Magnus' hand stroking his cheek forced his gaze back to his boyfriend, and Alec found Magnus watching him warily.

"You know, when I said we shouldn't have secrets, I didn't mean you had to tell me everyone else's too. I'm glad you told me about Jace, it explains a lot and affects the future, but I don't want you to feel like I've trapped you in some sort of secret-bearing contract."

Alec looked away. He knew he needed to speak up, but he didn't know how to do so without messing things up or coming off the wrong way. Words had never been his strong suit. "Honestly, Magnus, I… I don't know how to act around you anymore. I'm so afraid I'm going to say the wrong thing, or do something stupid, and I'm going to upset you or even lose you all together all over again…"

It was his voice that betrayed him this time, trembling as he rambled on, and Magnus cupped his face in his hands, shushing him.

"Is this why you've been so quiet all night? I just assumed the day had wiped us both out."

Alec reached a hand up to cover one of Magnus' gently. "Look, I meant what I said tonight. I don't think I can live without you. And I have had to try recently, and it hurt. It hurt more than I knew it was possible to hurt. And I can't do it again. I nearly lost Jace today, a part of me, and Max nearly died after Jonathan's attack and if I was to lose you from my life… or try to go back to the way things have been since we've been apart…"

Magnus wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling Alec into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you in our time apart. I had to put up so many walls to keep myself in check around you. I spent all of my energy when we were near each other trying to hold myself together, trying to act indifferent and cold and whatever it took to keep you at arm's length. If you came too close, if you were too soft with me… I know I would've broken. I'm sorry that hurting you to force you to be distant with me was the only way I could handle being near you. It wasn't fair. I know why you made the choices you did, but I still felt like I came second when I've always put you first."

Alec nodded, nuzzling his face into Magnus' shoulder. "I know. I know I hurt you, and I understand why you felt so betrayed. It ate at me constantly, keeping it from you, even if it wasn't for long. I tried to think like a leader, tried to put the Shadow World ahead of my own personal investments, but it wasn't fair of me either. You deserved to know. And I trust you. I just… as High Warlock of Brooklyn, I didn't want to put you in a position where you had to choose between your people and me. And, well, clearly that's what ended up happening regardless."

Magnus sighed as they pulled apart. "Well, it's clear we have some things we need to work on, both separately and together. Trust is important. And communication. But with that comes trusting that I'm still going to love you even if you do make a mistake or say the wrong thing."

Alec smiled, lips upturned just a little. "That goes both ways. Even though we both know I'm the usual culprit."

Magnus kissed him chastely. "I'm not perfect, Alexander."

Alec lit up at that, mischievous smile gracing his face. "I don't know…" he sing-songed, letting his eyes run the length of his boyfriend. "I beg to differ."

Magnus chuckled at the compliment, thinking he was clearly a bad influence on the Shadowhunter, and he wrapped his arms around Alec's waist. "What do you say we go to bed? After some sleep, I'm feeling a lot more energized..."

"Hmm… I think I can have you eating your words soon." Alec teased, brushing his lips along Magnus' neck and up behind his ear. As expected, Magnus shivered and pulled him closer.

"Well, look who's not playing fair…"

"Who said anything about fair?"

Magnus dragged him back to their bedroom, happy to make up for lost time.

And when Jace fell asleep later that night, he couldn't help but be eased into happier dreams, his parabatai rune emitting the soft, warm feeling of finally being home.

#malec #malec fanfiction #alec lightwood #magnus bane #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfiction #good parabatai jace #post sh 2x20 #romance #angst #hurt/comfort

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