#seeing someone climbing up a rock face that juts OUT without any ropes

[alliluyevas]

honestly love and light to those who enjoy it but rock climbing is possibly the least fun hobby I can imagine personally

[yslkook]

flower boy

pairing: seokjin x reader summary: you're seokjin's favorite flower. word count: 1.8k warnings: face sitting, ropeplay, one mention of deflowering a/n: meant to be a drabble of the just like magic couple, but can be read alone.

Seokjin has been gone for the last fifteen minutes and really, you should be worried. But you’re too enthralled with the scene around you- the quiet sound of silence throbbing in your ears. A faint breeze floats across your face as you take all of the photos you can of the mountainside around you. Snow capped peaks surround you, kissing the sky ever so slightly.

The moment of serenity is broken by your husband sprinting towards you as if he’s committed a crime. With slightly pink cheeks, he huffs and puffs to regain his breath. You raise an eyebrow, wondering if he has committed a crime-

“Are you in trouble?” You ask warily, “Should we start running?”

“W-what? No,” Jin protests, “I mean, maybe-”

“How unfortunate,” You say, eyeing the flowers in his hands with interest, “What’s that?”

“For my beautiful wife, the queen of my heart,” Jin says dramatically, “The apple of my eyes, all of the above. Stole some flowers for your hair.”

“For my hair,” You repeat flatly, though your heart is fluttering. You don’t recall the last time you had something as innocent as flowers in your hair.

“That’s what I said, sweets,” Jin grins, tucking a few plum blossoms in your hair and a bright, pink azalea behind your left ear. “Wow,” He murmurs, “My gorgeous wifey. Let me take a picture.”

Despite your grumblings and protests (you feel so awkward standing alone and posing for a photo with flowers in your hair. But it makes Jin so happy, his lips pulled into a wide smile and his eyes crinkling at the sight of you, that you can’t help but smile, too.) Of course, the pictures of you come out nicely. Jin always has a way with the camera when it comes to you.

You ask him for photos with you, too. But you get distracted and end up kissing him, right there against the bridge. Jin holds you steady and close, arms tight around you as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. You softly moan into his mouth when he squeezes your ass. Melting into him is so easy, the easiest thing you’ve ever done. It’s easy when he makes you feel like you’re on a cloud, slowly swaying in the sky amongst swirling, sweet dreams with him and only him.

When he pulls away, he bites your bottom lip with a grin.

“Do I look pretty,” You murmur raspily. Loose petals and leaves float with the wind, getting stuck in his hair. Jin’s eyes are bright and brown, shining against the budding darkness of the setting sky.

His eyes turn just as dark as the backdrop behind you.

“Always, baby,” Jin murmurs, "My favorite flower." He is absolutely mesmerized by you on a normal day, but being alone with you here, in between the stoic mountains and with flowers in your hair. You’re breathtaking.

“I feel pretty, with your flowers,” You confess. Your words are shy but your lips are twisted into a smirk and your eyes drip something dark. He only grins lazily right back at you, as if daring you to say what he knows you’re thinking. Seokjin is a force of nature on any given day, with a sharp smile, easy eyes and a straight spine. His words are chosen carefully for anyone who isn’t you. You, who can read him like a book without opening your eyes.

Jin only takes two steps closer to you and dips you for a sharp kiss. You cradle his cheeks, pulling him in as close as you can. The concern that someone may see you both is a concern that tickles the back of your mind, but how can you focus on it? When your husband kisses you as if you’re made of flames and embers, and he just wants some of your warmth?

“Seokjin,” You sigh, your breath fanning across his cheek.

He hums, “Wanna go home? Lemme show my flower wife how much I love her?”

“Are you going to deflower me?” You laugh and Jin throws his head back in laughter.

“Think it’s too late for that, baby.”

Seokjin is a man of many words, and as it turns out, he shows you nothing. He’s lying beneath you, fully bare and with only a self-satisfied, smug smirk on his stupidly handsome face. You wish you could say that you had given him something to smirk about, but he’s making fun of you.

Because you’re so impatient, and he’s filled with nothing but patience. In most instances, it’s a great thing. That he balances and mellows out your impatience. But not in this case.

You whine, rolling your hips against his but he gives you nothing. He can’t even touch you because he had begged you to tie him up with the special purple rope at the back of your closet as soon as you had entered the threshold of your bedroom-

“Please baby, I want you to ride me until my soul leaves my body.”

Tying him up to the headboard of your bed is nothing new. In fact, him acting like this- smug, lazy and almost bored is nothing new either. He only shows this part of himself to you when there are rings of neatly coiled purple rope around his wrists, his chest, his waist and his thighs.

“What’s the matter, baby,” Jin drawls, “You need help?”

He doesn’t even tug on his restraints. He looks so comfortable like this, save for the reddened tint of his cheeks. It had taken you so much convincing to allow yourself to tie him up like this. You had watched tons of videos to learn exactly how to tie the knots perfectly so as to not hurt him. The last thing you ever want to do is hurt Jin in any way.

Even now, you still hesitate sometimes. But seeing him like this. Open and vulnerable, so deliciously spread for you with his cock hanging heavy between his thighs...wrapped up all pretty with the purple rope (that he’d picked out months ago. By now, your fingers are incredibly familiar with it).

You choke on your saliva. His golden skin ripples with your gentle touch on his belly, over the trail of hair at his navel. Fuck, he’s beautiful.

“I look good, right, baby?” Jin breathes, lips jutted into a pillowy pout, “Fuck, take some pictures and show me.”

“But I wanna cum,” You complain, “You don’t even care how wet I am-”

“Oh? I don’t care?” Jin asks, his voice silky smooth. He gestures for you to move, to adjust and sit on his thigh. You gasp when the rope around his thigh brushes your clit. Your hips rock slowly as your eyes flutter and your pussy jumps- it always surprises you. How good the rope can feel against you.

“Good girl,” Jin murmurs. You want him to touch you, hold your hand, but this is good, too. “Keep going, baby. Why don’t you touch me too, huh? Gimme some attention-”

Jin groans when you stroke his cock with shaky hands. “Yeah,” He says dreamily, “Fuck-yeah, like that…” He sighs, the sound strangled as his back arches with your touch. Somehow, you find your rhythm while grinding your clit along the rough edges of the ropes tight around his thigh and stroke his cock in the same movement.

“You look so good, baby,” Jin rasps, “Fuck, I wish you could see. I love you, you’re everything and you give me everything…”

You whimper at his words, feeling your belly start to tighten. Jin can tell that you’re close, your breaths are staggered and you squeeze his thigh tightly as you swing your hips against the rope. It’s rough against your clit but each catch of it against your skin makes you gasp, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head.

“Cum, baby, you’re so close,” Jin coos, “Cum all over me, all over my thigh. My pretty wifey’s gonna cum? She doesn’t even need me to cum, does she?”

“N-no,” You glare at him, “Always need you.”

“Is that so? Show me then,” Jin demands softly. You notice him tug at his restraints.

“Look,” You mumble, lifting your hips up slightly. He groans when he sees your glistening pussy and you wonder if he knows that your clit is throbbing for him. You not so subtly smear your wetness on his thigh before he stops you.

“Come sit on my face,” He rasps, “Lemme see that pussy, baby.”

“Fuck, finally,” You mutter, earning yourself a playful glare from him. As soon as you descend over his mouth, your thighs on either side of his head, he groans wantonly before sniffing deeply and licking your wetness easily. Your hips rock against his face, coating his lips and his chin with your wetness as he drinks up what you give him.

His tongue is ruthless, warm and wet and soothing in your pussy and he drags it out. You think Jin even spits in your pussy, but you hardly even hear it with the sounds of his noisy mouth against your equally noisy pussy.

You hold Jin’s hands, which are tied together at the wrist against the headboard above him. You’re tempted to untie him for your own selfish reasons, to feel his big hands on your heated skin, to feel him smack your ass.

But you know how much he likes this so you simply hold his hands in the restraints. Jin looks up at you in that way, that way where he’s looking at you as if he wants to absolutely, divinely devour you and tenderly brush your hair all at the same time.

You're beautiful with or without flowers in your hair, he thinks.

“Fuck, I love you,” You say, “You look so good like this, baby, fuck. Look at you. My handsome boy. So good for me.”

You’re close, so fucking close, you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. Jin is relentless- he knows how to get you there, how to twist you inside and out. He moans into your skin, curling his lips around your clit just a few more times…

You’re thrown over the edge and it washes over you in powerful waves, a sharp moan of his name pulling out of your throat. You curse, looking down at him and pushing his hair out of his eyes. He still looks so smug, but his cheeks are flushed.

Pulling yourself off of him, you lay on top of him and kiss him slowly, languidly. Jin scoffs into your mouth and you pull away in surprise.

“What?”

“You gonna ride me or what?” He asks bluntly and you swat his shoulder. But nevertheless you straddle his hips and climb on top of him.

It’s your turn to be smug when a broken moan slips out of his mouth, his plump lips parted as you sheath your velvety walls around his leaking cock.

“You good, baby?” Your voice is syrupy sweet, the same way your honey is slick around his cock. He can only nod weakly at you. “Get ready for the ride of your life, hubby.”

tags: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

[windlion]

@aliciarosefantasy Kylin's time to get whumped (And not in a hallucination). I'd like to see how the iron triangle handle it, since he's always so tough and invincible. Fluffy friendships a must.

---

Timeline, what timeline? :D I spent longer on this with the other sides of the Iron Triangle than I should have, but it was fun--  Merry Christmas!

They had no warning before the mountainside dropped beneath them.  Wu Xie yelled and tried to grab on to Pangzi as the ground shook out from under them, rocks and dirt cascading downwards.  He tried to keep his feet under him, pack to the mountainside as they tumbled down sharp shale, but it was too fast, too chaotic, as they went in seconds down what they'd spent all morning climbing up.  

He lost hold of Pangzi quickly, and it was all he could do to duck his head under his arms as they went through a series of scrub trees, sharp dry branches snapping and whipping across them.  Pangzi, however, wasn't done with him--Wu Xie came to an abrupt stop as Pangzi seized onto him in turn with a grunt of effort.  "Tianzhen?!"

Wu Xie could only wheeze in reply, the sudden blow from his pack straps having knocked the breath out of him, and reached up to try and pat Pangzi in reassurance even as more rocks and dirt rained down around them.  Wu Xie scrabbled to get his feet under him against the mountainside, helping take some of the strain.  Twisting, he could see Pangzi had managed to stop himself laying side-ways across several of the tree trunks, distributing the weight.  

As the rockslide slowed to a trickle, a cloud of dust still hanging over them, Wu Xie coughed and returned Pangzi's firm grasp to haul him back up into the thicket of scrub pines.  "Xiaoge?"

Pangzi shook his head, sitting back against the slope as he tried to brush dirt, rocks, and bits of tree off of him.  "Didn't see him.  You know our Xiaoge, though."

"You look like you've been through a wood chipper."

Pangzi grumbled, flicking a piece of dry-rotted bark at him.  "You would've looked like you went through a meat grinder if I didn't stop you from going over the ledge."

Wu Xie absently patted at his shoulder, leaning back to look up the cliffside.  "Aa, good catch."

Xiaoge had been scouting ahead of them, some ten to twenty meters further to the west.   And some . . . five to ten hundred meters up.   Dust still hung heavy in the air, a few shards of still falling here and there pinging their way down the mountainside.  Definitely not guaranteed to be stable.

Pangzi followed his gaze and scowled at the shale, echoing his thoughts, "That's going to be a bitch to climb again."  

"We might need another way up."  Hell, a solid sheer cliff face with ropes was better than this shifting mess.  He still had his climbing gear.  

Pangzi leaned back and yelled at the blue sky in outrage, "We weren't even in the tomb yet!"

That reminded him-- Wu Xie met Pangiz's eyes. "Someone was."

Pangzi's face contorted in a grimace as he reluctantly agreed. "Tianzhen, you are full of good news today."

"Hopefully they'll leave you something to blow up."  Wu Xie pushed his way back up to his feet, extending a hand.  "Come on, let's go find Xiaoge."

"Or he'll find us."

They'd forged along for nearly an hour, making slow zig-zagging progress uphill and west. They paused to tap out a question every five minutes or so, using a rock against the edge of a shovel so it would echo in the air.   The benefit to finding Xiaoge more quickly was worth the risk of alerting any sentries from the group that had beaten them.

Pangzi took a quick mouthful of water to wash down the dust while they waited and listened for a response. "You don't think he surfed all the way to the bottom, do you?"

Wu Xie shook his head.  "If anything, he'd stop far faster."  

But Xiaoge wouldn't have kept going without them, without being sure they were safe.  Wu Xie scanned the mountainside, feeling his guts twist with unease.  In theory all the grey shale uniformly coating the mountainside should have made an excellent backdrop to find one black-clad Zhang Qiling against.  In reality, Xiaoge was probably as covered in dust and ghost pale as Wu Xie and Pangzi.

"He might have fallen straight into the tomb.  They blew up the damn mountain right under us."

Wu Xie winced. "It's possible."

That would be one of the better options, really, because he had full faith Xiaoge could handle whoever or whatever the tomb could throw at them.  Because the alternative. . .

Pangzi hissed like a tea kettle, flinging the back of his hand into Wu Xie's chest, voice hushed and intent, "Look."

Wu Xie followed his finger pointing uphill, to where the hilt of an extremely familiar black and gold sword just barely jutted from the rock.  "Xiaoge?!"

They raced each other to the spot, Wu Xie winning by a scant meter.  The sword was indeed jammed straight into solid rock, providing a handhold for someone to crouch just in the lee of a ledge.  The problem was, there was no Xiaoge with it.  Pangzi worked to haul the sword free, grumbling about over-achievers, while Wu Xie searched for any signs of their friend.

Even looking, he almost tripped over him instead some five meters downhill, covered in a heap of shale.  Wu Xie cursed and dropped to his knees, digging frantically, sending more rocks cascading down.  Pangzi hurried to join him, helping Wu Xie pull Xiaoge up and free from the mess. Zhang Qiling was lighter than he should be as always, and unnaturally still.  Wu Xie hauled him close and hurriedly pressed his fingers to the man's neck, holding silent.  He breathed out in relief when he finally felt the pulse, slow, steady.  "He's alive."

Pangzi frisked the other man's limbs and body, checking for injury, reporting, "Nothing broken.  Doesn't look like anything that would put him out."

Wu Xie frowned down at the man's head in his lap, carefully sinking his hands into thick hair to feel along the man's skull, then winced as he displayed blood-covered fingers to Pangzi. "That would do it."

Pangzi hissed, patting the unconscious man's shoulder.  "Aiya. . . had to hit him in the weak spot."

Wu Xie probed along the edge of the injury, queasily glad to find that the bones didn't seem to shift under his hands, just a knot of swollen, tender tissue and hair matted with blood. "I think . . . maybe just a concussion, not a cracked skull."

Pangzi caught and held his eyes, worry matching his own.  That might be bad enough. Pangzi breathed out gustily, leaning forward to seize hold of Xiaoge's arms.  "All right, you get his pack.  Let's go find a place to make camp."

Wu Xie hesitated, then helped strip off the lighter pack before maneuvering Xiaoge onto Pangzi's back.  Xiaoge was alive.  They'd deal with whatever the fallout was when he woke up.  And if he'd forgotten them, well it wouldn't be the first time.

[writingawaymylife]

To the Summit

A/N: as I’m unable to go into the mountains and hike (both my favourite places to be and one of my favourite activities), I decided to have Higgs and Y/N go on one themselves! This fic was a bit of a challenge, but I think it’s pretty cute to be quite honest. 

This is based off of a fluff request given to me by @avenged-nightmare - “I just like proving you wrong.” Thank you, dear!

Words: 3373

Type: Fluff

Ship: Higgs/Reader

Warnings: swear words?

_________

The day was beautiful. Clear skies, only a few clouds littering the blue, and not a single grey cloud in sight. The heat, one often not found in these areas, was enough to make (Y/N) and Higgs unzip the top of their suits and tie them around their waists. The breeze helped cool them down as they climbed the mountain, boots digging into the firm rocks and boosting themselves up as they tried to reach the high summit. 

(Y/N) stopped on a small cliff, looking up at the rope in front of them and down where Higgs hiked ten or so feet behind. He looked burnt out, sweat slicking his hair back as he ran a hand through it, grey T-shirt sweated through around the neck and chest, sucking in deep breaths as he tried to regulate his breathing - he was most certainly trying his hardest to not look as worn out as he was, pretending to stop and “enjoy” the view every now and than, when they both knew he just needed the break. 

Even with the less than pleased looks on his face, and the fact that he was soaked in sweat, they couldn’t help admiring him. It nearly had them choking on their spit with the way the shirt was clinging to him, and when he pushed himself onto a ledge, the way his arms tensed - damn. Anyone who says the lean people can’t have nice muscles had never seen this man. 

There was a small voice in the back of their head that told them they shouldn’t be staring at him and thinking like that, but, if they were going to be honest, they had passed the point of truly caring a long time ago. The panicking over feelings and attraction had mostly subsided. Though, they still found themselves tiptoeing around the former. 

Higgs looked up, and, before they could pretend to just be checking on him, a smirk grew onto his face. “Enjoying the view, Darlin’?” He teased, chin jutting forward as he finally made it to them. 

Fuck. 

(Y/N) turned towards the cliff with the roll of their eyes. Giving the rope a testing tug and letting out a scoff as if they were shocked he would even think that. They shook their head and focused on securing their backpack. “You say that as if you haven’t been staring at my backside the entire way up here.” 

Their hands came up to get a secure grip on the rope, giving it one last tug before preparing themselves to climb.

“What can I say? Your suit does nothing to hide it, Sweetcheeks.” 

(Y/N) stopping what they were doing, glancing over at him with raised brows when they caught him glancing down. “Really?” 

One of his smiles, the one that always had his tongue peaking between his teeth, grew on his face as he shrugged. God, they hated how cocky he was. Fuck, they hated that they couldn’t just look at him like a normal person.

“Absolutely.” He winked, nose scrunching just slightly as they groaned and turned back to climbing.

(Y/N) pushed themselves up the rope, working themselves up the side of the cliff and pressing their feet into the rocky face. The hike was coming to an end soon, and the peak, with a view and spectacle that they would always love, was only another five or so minutes away. A relieving thought, if they were being honest. Even though they were almost constantly walking, and most times with heavy cargo, the hike was still taxing. Water and a break sounded beautiful right now.

A few more feet and they made it to the top. Pushing themselves up from the ledge, (Y/N) was quick to suck in a few deep breaths, hands on their knees as they scanned for the easiest and best route to the top. Only for Higgs, of course. 

A breeze, cold and with that crisp inhale, had (Y/N) closing their eyes for a moment. Enjoying the sun, the cold breeze, the atmosphere of it all - they could never get over this place. How it had taken them years before they had stumbled upon it, and how untouched it all was. This was always the one place they felt totally and utterly safe. Like nothing down below would ever touch them. Unbothered by the crumbling and the rebuilding of the world for just a moment. And, though they had been nervous to in the beginning, they were happy that they were going to show Higgs this place. To share this piece of beauty with someone they trusted more than anyone.

The sound of crumbling rocks and a string of curse words had them out of their moment. Body jolting as they turned around and quickly leaned over the edge. “Higgs!?”

“Yeah!” He grunted through clenched these, sucking in a few sharp breaths as he adjusted his hands on the rope. “I’m fine…” He mumbled the last part through gritted teeth as he pushed himself to continue, finally getting to the top and pushing himself onto the ledge. He huffed, hands coming to rub together, before he jutted his chin towards (Y/N). 

“How much farther is this place?”

(Y/N) looked over him quickly, trying to see if he had any injuries, only a scuff on his forearm, before turning around and pointing to the thinly visible path. “It’s only five minutes or so, than we can take a break for a while. Have some food and water.” They gave him a smile, one that he returned though slightly tighter, before they turned around and began the last, steepest ascent. 

The last pull was always the hardest. Even the “easiest” way up was still a challenge. Loose and jagged rocks made it easy to slip or lose balance, and the only way to really make it up was through slow, careful steps. And, along with the small ledges that had to either be jumped to reach or pushed onto, it didn’t take long for either of them to feel worn out. By the time the five-minute mark hit, (Y/N) was taking in sharp inhales and exhales themselves.

Behind them, as they glanced back, they realized Higgs wasn’t faring too well either, mumbled curse words and most legs looking slightly wobbly, even as he tried his hardest to seem unbothered by the climb. It seemed that it didn’t matter how many sets he did back home, how fit he kept himself, this hike was still kicking his ass. They couldn’t help the satisfied smirk that grew on their face as they finally made it to the last push of the hike. If he hadn’t been such a competitive little shit, he probably would still be feeling his legs - but, of course, he had to argue that he was Higgs, and he could do anything. 

“You doing alright, buddy?” They teased, sticking out a hand to help him up, which unsurprisingly he didn’t take. Only giving an annoyed, petty glare and grunt as he pushed himself up the ledge and onto the summit. 

(Y/N) took a step back and gave him space, watching him suck in a few heavy breaths as he looked around.

“Just…” He took a few heavy breaths through gritted teeth. “... wonderful, Darlin’.” 

(Y/N) rolled their eyes, and tried to fight the smile the tugged their lips. It wasn’t an unexpected response from him. Higgs was the kind of person that could be shot in the shoulder and tell them he was alright simply because, in the end, they were right and he didn’t want to be wrong. And, after all the fuss he had made about being able to do an intense mountain hike, he was obviously not going to give in that easily. 

“Wait till tomorrow.” They turned around, stopping for a moment to acknowledge and admire the gorgeous structure, a Torii, they had found out through some searching, the stood strong and constant on the top of the mountain. 

The grey pilers rose high into the air, looking slightly more weathered than it had when they had been here last. In a sad, passing thought, they wondered how long it would take before this too gave in to the Timefall. How long had it stood here? Had to have been before the Stranding - there is no way someone, especially in a day an age where PCCs existed and ultralight metals, would lug all this stone up to the top of the mountain. Sucking in a sharp breath and pushing the thought to the side, they walked through gate and towards their favorite spot, hand reaching to their side and taking out their canteen and taking a few, long drinks.

Higgs was quick to catch up, and glancing to the side as they finish drinking, they scrunched their eyebrows in confusion at the absolutely disdainful glare painted on his face. 

He was quick to move and stand in front of them. Taking a step forward so there were only a few inches of space between them and pointing an accusatory finger as them. “This was all intentional, wasn’t it?” He nearly growled, and they could barely stop the laugh from bubbling up as they stood their ground, arms moving to rest on their hips as they leaned back and put on their best, cockiest grin. Oh, it felt just wonderful to give him a taste of his own medicine. His eyes moved down to their lips quickly, before moving back to their eyes with a harder glare.

“How was I supposed to know you would have a hard time with this hike?” They asked, mock innocence dripping from their voice. “You claimed that you didn’t need to “go easy” on your first couple of hikes. That, and, I quote, “you could make it up any mountain without breaking a God-Damn sweat”.” 

After a beats of silence and glaring, Higgs let out a huff and took a couple of steps back. His hands moved to his hips now, and, seemingly finding no answer looking at (Y/N), turned his attention to the Torii gate behind them. “Yeah, well…” He stopped, heel kicking up ground as he shook his head, obviously struggling to find a good excuse. 

“Well…?” Their grin grew bigger. 

“I didn’t think it would be this steep!” 

(Y/N) let out a soft laugh, shaking their head as they moved around him, and begun walking towards the part of the summit that overlooked the valley. Higgs, after a moment of grumbling, was quick to catch up to them.

“What’s with that self-satisfied grin?” He asked, expression exasperated and looking just a tad grumpy.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” they shrugged. “I just really enjoy proving you wrong, is all.” For a split second as they glanced over at him, they could have sworn they saw him either go through the five stages of grief or debate throwing them off of the mountain. Most likely both when they really thought about it.

“You keep pushing your luck, you might not like what happens.” Higgs threatened.

“What are you going to do?” They challenged. “Give me the silent treatment? Eat all my ice cream?”

He didn’t even miss a beat. “Fuck you.” Higgs looked away from (Y/N) and stared straight ahead. There was far more power in each step he made than before, and, as (Y/N) took the last steps towards the overlook, they turned to look at him.

“Now, wouldn’t that just be romantic?”

He lifted his lip in mock disgust, looking them up and down in that sassy way only Higgs could do, before scoffing and looking back towards the view. “You wish.” 

His chuckle, low and melodic in a way that has (Y/N) feeling way too many emotions to process, bubbles from his chest as he shakes his head again. A few strands of hair, which had grown through his days stuck in the Bunker, fall out of place when he does, and his arms cross over his chest. They can’t help but take him in, the slacked shoulders and the slight tilt back - like he is completely comfortable in the moment. And, the thoughts that seem to keep occurring these past few weeks, pop back up again.

(Y/N) nearly screams to themselves to look away, to try and get these absolutely annoying emotions shoved back into their box, but, for the life of them, they can’t seem to take their eyes off of Higgs. Even with the prospect of the stunning view they always loved from up here, the way the sunlight is making his eyes even brighter than they normally are, revealing those silver and gold speckles they get to see so rarely, they don’t see how the overlook could ever compete with what is in front of them. They nearly kick themselves at how soft it sounds.

Higgs, seemingly noticing their staring, turns to look at them. A small furrow of his brow and frown as he looks them in the eye, and they quickly look away, biting their lip to keep a smile of all things from spreading onto their face. For some reason, it doesn’t feel nearly as embarrassing as they would have expected being caught, with what was most likely an obviously lovesick look, would be. If anything, there is a part of them that wanted him to catch on for some stupid, most likely dangerous, reason. They wait for the snide or suggestive comment, but he doesn’t say anything, and, when they give him a quick glance, he’s looking back towards the view again as well. Face passive except for the smallest of smirks on his lips.

Oh, how they hate that smug little look.

It’s silent - but it isn’t heavy or uncomfortable. It just feels so… normal.

The comfort, trust, and safety (Y/N) felt towards Higgs had slowly been coming back over the past few months after the incident. The fear of him leaving or hurting them was still there in the back of their mind - they always said Higgs was a fire that couldn’t go untouched for long, but, even after he healed and the risk died down, Higgs stayed. Became a part of their life and allowed them to be part of his and it all just felt so right. 

Fuck. He really was making them soft.

The words came to rest on their tongue again, begging to be spoken, to be heard. And for once (Y/N) actually gave the thought a moment to exist. Letting the words turn over in their head, repeated and said in a variety of different ways, as they stared out into the beautiful valley. It must have been because they were up here that they felt so brave in admitting something so vulnerable, they come to think. The one place that they always felt the safest. The Bunker was home - security and shelter. But this place? It was freedom. A place that always made everything and anything seem so possible. Away from the outside world. A tiny bubble, it’s own universe. Detached and so unaffected by the world below. 

Higgs is the first to speak, voice tired but light. He sounds so more… comfortable than he has in a while. Less like he’s trying to keep up a facade and more like he is just being himself, though they know that will never exclude his asshole nature. They wonder if he feels the same as them - like the world can’t touch him up here. They wonder, as they glance over at him again, if this is the actual Higgs - not Higgs the terrorist, not Higgs, the particle of God - just Higgs.

“I guess you won the bet.” He doesn’t sound annoyed, if anything, he seems amused. And, as they look over at him, he has this light, easy-going grin on his face again and he’s already turned looking at them. There are butterflies in their stomach, and they swear they are blushing. The words want to come out so badly. 

“Maybe you’ll finally learn how to keep the place clean.” They tease. They have a soft smile on their lips, growing as he gives a look of mock offense and raises his brows, as if asking them to elaborate more. 

They turn back to the valley with a shrug. Eyes finding their bunker, the entrance nestled into the side of a cliff, almost instantly, before they look to their right towards the Distribution Center. “Housebreaking you is worse than housebreaking an old dog, you know that?”

“Excuse you,” he argues. He pretends to sound wounded, that same mock offense in his eyes as he shoves them with his shoulder playfully. “I ain’t that bad!”

They turn to look at him again. “You know the amount of times I had to clean the floors when you first started coming around? Never took your stupid boots off.”

“Yeah well I-” He tried to defend.

“Was an asshole!” They cut off. He laughed, shoulders rising up in a jagged motion as his head tilted up for a moment, they can’t help their smile and the feeling in their chest, like they are full of cotton, from increasing tenfold at the sound, couldn’t even begin to control the feeling as they watch the creases by his eyes become pronounced and his teeth showing through his smile.

“Didn’t know I stopped being one.” When he looks over at them, they swear they nearly melt. There is this look in his eyes, one that they both understand and feel completely clueless on, and they can barely stand the feelings bubbling in their chest and they have to look away. 

“Oh, you didn’t, I just learned to-” They stopped themselves before they could say that word. “Tolerate it.” They hope he doesn’t notice the almost slip up, but from the corner of their eye, they can see his lips drop just slightly and his eyes looking over their face like he’s searching for something. 

“Well I’ll applaud you on that one, Darlin’, not many can.” Fuck, they hate how he sounds so distracted by something. He isn’t soft, they know that just isn’t Higgs, but when they look back over at him, they swear they see a hint of Higgs’ version of such in his eyes. Higgs, the master of facades, can barely keep it hidden, even when he goes back to his cocky, boyish grin and mischievous glint. His hand moves up and he runs his hand back through his hair, a hint of annoyance in his eyes as a few strands stubbornly fall out.

The sun, now setting behind (Y/N), causes his hair to glitter and his features to seem even sharper, and for some reason, it’s then that they truly realize that they won’t be able to keep their emotions unspoken for much longer. The words are there. Just behind their lips, on the tip of their tongue. Ready to be spoken and completely secure in knowing that they are so completely and utterly true. Before the words finally spill out, however, they hesitate. Not yet, they think. Not right now. They tuck the words away, in a corner of their heart, and let them sit and wait. 

For now, they just want to stand beside him and be in this moment. Looking over the valley, feeling free and safe and so untouchable. For now, the words lay unspoken. But, as they continue to talk to him, to look into his sparkling eyes that for once don’t hold so much pain and anger but just genuine happiness, they realize that the words never had to be spoken in the first place. They were always there, imprinted into the searching glances and the brief, ghost-like touches. 

For once, they are happy for Higgs’ stubborn and competitive attitude. For him forcing them to come up here. Because, as they watch the sunset over the ocean, and they look back to meet Higgs’ eyes, ones holding memories and emotions that they can’t wait to truly know, they realize just how happy they are to have him in their life. That, out of anyone in this fucked up, teetering on the edge, world, it was him that they ended up falling for.

[prairiesongserial]

11.10

Friday continued to flirt with Emile the rest of the way to shore. She didn’t ask any more questions, even though the need to know what had happened to Adams, or what Adams had done - something so bad that his own colleagues wouldn’t even talk about it - burned right on the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t about to test her luck again.

The rowboat rounded a rocky outcropping which boasted the biggest of the old world mansions. Friday got a good look at it as they passed; it was black stone, unlike the other buildings inland, and Friday thought it had the sort of grace of an aging matriarch. Emile pulled up to a small pier jutting out from the side of the rock. The pier hadn’t been visible from the rest of Everglades City, tucked away on the far side of the outcropping, and was empty of any other boats at the moment. Emile started to tie the rowboat to a post.

Friday couldn’t quite help herself. Emile had bounced back, cheerful and slimy, as long as she stuck to the topic of how strong and handsome he was, and now that they had arrived, it was time to push her luck a bit.

“Is it true that the water around here is dangerous, Emile?” she asked as he helped her out of the boat.

“Who told you that?” Emile said.

Val climbed out of the rowboat by reaching up for Friday’s hand instead of Emile’s - not that Emile had offered to help him. He stood half in front of Friday, staring down at Emile expressionlessly.

Friday wasn’t a snitch, and she got the feeling from Emile’s icy look that the dangerous water was another off the table topic. She couldn’t single out the old fisherman, not when she didn’t know what the consequences would be. Far as she knew, Everglades City might run itself like Macomber’s gang in Outpost.

“Johannes,” Friday said smoothly.

Emile paused, as if trying to figure out who she meant.

“The ringmaster of the circus,” Friday said. “He said it wasn’t safe to go in the water. Is that true?”

Emile looked past her, dead silent. Friday hadn’t paid much attention to the lay of the land around the pier, but she followed his gaze now. Another ring of water circled the mansion, despite the outcropping it was built upon already being surrounded by water on three sides. Extra security, Friday supposed. Though from what?

Emile started to untie the boat.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “None more so than any other water you’re likely to find.” Emile dropped the rope into his boat and got himself seated, ready to pick up the oars.

Friday suddenly got a sinking feeling.

“How do we get back to the...to downtown?” Friday gestured across the water.

Emile relaxed his posture for a moment, looking not at the mansion behind her and Val, but right at Friday.

“There’s another pier a quarter mile down the road from the courthouse. Can’t miss it. Borrow a boat.” Emile picked up the oars and dipped them in the water. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but turned away, letting the opportunity pass.

Friday frowned at him as he pulled the boat farther away. She had been faking her concern, mostly, over Cody and Adams and this whole strange city. Sure, there had been a mystery to solve, but she had kind of thought she and Val would find out that Adams had moved to a new town or had felt like a change in career - maybe become a cobbler, or something. More and more, though, Friday felt a coldness creeping over her. She looked back up at the mansion with its gaping black windows and dusty black stone.

“Is that where Cody’s working, do you think?” she asked Val.

He didn’t hear her. Val was pacing a little ways down the pier. Friday approached him.

“You are not going to knock on the front door of the Bellamy mansion,” Val told her, before she’d had the chance to say anything. “You’ve been pressing your luck so far, and you’re not taking it any farther. It’s like you - everyone is just pretending we don’t have massive bounties on our heads!” Val was talking more quickly, his pacing abrupt and anxious. “We don’t know who put the bounties out on us, other than someone at Hemisphere, and this is a Hemisphere town. And not like Vegas was! No gang in Vegas had the kind of money and power these people have. And you just gave your real name to that guy - ”

“You’re right,” Friday said calmly. “You’re right. I’m sorry I scared you.”

Val stopped pacing long enough to puzzle over her. Friday was staggered by the unexpected weight of hurt feelings. She and Val had gone through the paces of this argument, or one like it, a dozen times before. The last time had been New Orleans, the time before that, who knew? It all blurred together. The woods in Colorado where they’d holed up in the church until dawn? Or Macomber? She should have been happy to see Val fired up, back to his normal self. That was the whole reason she had brought him out here.

“I…” she began, and tensed in embarrassment as she realized she was going to cry. She had been teasing Val by flirting - literally flirting - with danger. Of course he was going to react. This was what she had wanted. This was the pattern. Friday swallowed. She had always liked the pattern. Like a question and an answer, the pattern just made sense.

“No, wait,” Val said. “I’m sorry. I’m on edge.” He paused, and looked away. “This whole circus thing.”

“It’s over the fucking top,” Friday said, laughing sharply, and ignoring the fact her eyes were leaking, as if that would prevent Val from noticing.

Friday wanted to say she didn’t like travelling with so many people either. That she missed when it was just him and her sharing a bike. Val had so much more to worry about than she did, having just left his convent - his family - behind, that she couldn’t bring herself to say something so childish: that she missed having someone to hold on to as the bike rumbled down the road.

“What if I break into the courthouse?” Val asked.

His eyes held hers in that sometimes unsettlingly brilliant, mutant way.

“You...what?” Friday said. “I’m sorry, what?”

Val shrugged. He started walking down the pier, toward land. Friday was so startled that whatever foreign feeling that had brought her nearly to tears was gone now, and she hoped it stayed that way. She hurried after Val.

“Why, though, Val, because - why?” Friday asked.

“I just think I’m going to break into the courthouse,” Val said calmly. “Do I need a reason?”

“Yes!” Friday shouted. She had caught up, nearly jogging to keep up with Val’s pace. She caught the corner of his eye - and the odd twinkle in it.

“You’re fucking with me,” she said.

“Am I?” Val asked distractedly. They had reached the end of the pier, and now walked past the Bellamy mansion, down toward the lonely cluster of brick buildings that made up this oddly set-apart section of Everglades City. There were no other residences here. Just the kinds of buildings where business was done - and business of some kind was going on. Friday just wasn’t quite sure what she was seeing.

A swarm of people - Bellamy men, most likely - stood in a half circle near the center of an old, crumbling stone plaza, creating a wall between any onlookers and what looked like an ordinary plaza bustling with activity. Only, the plaza was silent. None of the fifty or so people - not the half circle of Bellamys, and not the thick crowd of richly dressed people they surrounded - said a word.

Val kept walking, as if he didn’t even notice. He wandered ahead of Friday, reading the symbols and signs as he looked for the courthouse. To break into. Friday tore her gaze away from him for a few seconds, and back to the curiosity of the plaza.

The plaza burst into life and noise suddenly, making Friday jump. A small convertible car turned the corner out of nowhere, driving off the road and into the busy plaza. No one was hit - the people there parted like the Red Sea, almost as if they had known the car was coming. The car came to a jolty stop right in front of the arc of Bellamys - none of them had flinched. Friday was close enough that she could see the driver’s face as he stood up in his seat. He wore thick eyeliner, and a black mustache waxed into a curl. In the seat next to him, a bound figure struggled against his ropes, blindfolded and gagged.

Friday started to march through the line of Bellamys - then paused. A Bellamy approached the car, pushing an odd device ahead of her, which leveled with the mustache man’s face. No one seemed alarmed at all. Even the crowd in the plaza were milling about silently, as if bored.

“Your love will never find you where we’re going, Captain,” the mustache man sneered. “And by midnight, it will be too late.”

Friday squinted at the mustache man as he projected his line. This was a play, she realized. Well, sort of. The Bellamys here were probably making one of the moving pictures that the carnies had been so excited about.

Val had wandered back to her at some point, and tapped her arm.

“What is this?” he said, and pointed to the gagged actor. “Is he…”

“He’s fine. It’s like a play,” Friday whispered back.

“Cut!” rang a cry from right next to Friday’s ear.

Friday found herself facing several glares from the Bellamys.

“One more for safety. Without commentary, this time,” snapped the Bellamy right next to Friday. She stood only a few inches taller than Friday, with eye-piercing green hair cut in a severe bob, and mutant irises to match. “Hart, emphasis on midnight, this time. I want this whole sequence filmed before we have Madeline back tomorrow, understand?”

Friday shot the woman an uneasy smile and let Val tug her out of the crowd.

“I think that might have been a moving picture,” she said once the two of them were far enough away from the plaza. Val was back to reading the signs on the buildings. He walked several paces ahead of her, making her hustle to keep up.

“Can you pause for a second?” Friday said. She didn’t have to ask, though. Val had stopped in front of a white stone building held up with columns. A matching stone statue stood at the base of the steps, like a carnival barker announcing a stall’s attraction. The statue was of a blindfolded woman, standing square and proud.

Val’s gaze slid from the statue back to Friday.

“I’m going to figure out what’s true,” Val said. “This courthouse means that crime happens in this city. Just having a courthouse should prove it.” He pointed to the statue of the blindfolded woman, as if accusing her. “There are too many mysteries, and I don’t like it, so I’m solving this one,” Val continued. “I’m going to read files until I’m satisfied there is zero crime, or something is being covered up.”

He paused for breath, and Friday watched as he got himself back under control, his wide gestures becoming square, perfect posture.

“So then at least we’ll know one thing,” he added.

Friday smiled at him. “Well, hold on. You can’t solve the whole mystery yourself. If you’re looking into the no crime thing, I want to look into what that old fisherman was talking about. With people disappearing. I think I’ll go down to the pier Emile mentioned and ask around there, see if anyone saw Adams take a boat.”

Val frowned, then nodded, slowly.

“Emile said the pier was near the courthouse, so why don’t you meet me down there when you’re done?” Friday said. She didn’t say she still thought breaking into the courthouse was a crazy risk, and that she wanted Val to come with her instead - or that the whole point of this outing was supposed to have been Val and her together. Just the fact that Val was interested, not staring off into space, was going to have to be enough for her.

“Okay,” he said.

“And - ” Friday began.

“You be careful,” Val said, anticipating her. “Don’t catch Everglades Madness and take a boat out to sea.”

Friday hadn’t realized she’d been clenching her jaw, but she realized now as she smiled.

“Okay,” she said. “Don’t get caught.”

11.9 || 11.11

[midsommersolstice]

Follow the Pipes

Whumptober 2019 - Prompt #1: Shaky Hands

Fandom: Marvel/MCU/Irondad

Summary:  Tony wakes up at the bottom of a bomb shelter with a concussed Peter next to him, their only means of escape being a hatch 40 feet directly above them.

Word Count: 5104

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849627

@whumptober2019

Tony rolled onto his side, coughing slightly as heavy dust caught in his throat and lungs. A few weak beams of light filtered through the air, illuminating the space around him just barely enough for him to make out Peter lying unconscious a few yards away. “Kid,” he hissed towards the young man’s unmoving form. “Hey buddy, you gotta wake up.” He couldn’t see Peter’s face. He was on his back, ankles tied tightly, hands secured underneath him, and head rolled in the opposite direction. He didn’t so much as twitch in response to Tony’s voice and the older man pulled and struggled against the coarse ropes that held his hands behind his back as well. They were in what Tony suspected was an old bomb shelter deep in the earth that had been converted into a makeshift holding cell. The limestone walls were smooth and perfectly cylindrical like a giant well, but the opening high above them was sealed off with a heavy steel hatch. A few pipes jutted out up and down the walls, connecting to what had most likely been a sink and a toilet. Both had been removed, however, leaving Tony and Peter alone on the dusty, dirty floor. “Hey! Kiddo!” he tried again. No response. He shuffled awkwardly toward the teenager, then swiveled until he could gently push against Peter’s hip with his feet. “Peter!” he said a little bit louder. Anxiety had been simmering deep in his gut for several hours now, ever since he’d felt a taser jam into the small of his back and a baseball bat had broken over the side of Peter’s head. The boy had dropped like a rock without ever knowing he’d been hit. He hadn’t moved a muscle since, which was more than a little worrying. He may be super human, but a blow like that followed by hours of unconsciousness was pretty indicative of a serious concussion. He pushed Peter with his feet again, rocking the teenager’s body as hard as he dared. “Peter!” Finally he heard a deep groan and Peter’s head rolled in his direction, giving Tony a good view of the dried blood that ran from his temple, down his face, and into his ear. “That’s it bud, come on.” Tony waited in vain for further movement. “PARKER!” He yelled sharply, his voice echoing about their stone enclosure. Peter’s face scrunched at the loud noise and he groaned again in protest. “Pete?” Glassy, unfocused brown eyes blinked open. “Hey, there you are, kid. How’re you doing, you with me?” For a few frightening moments Peter just stared back at him with blank, half-lidded eyes, and the anxiety in Tony’s chest began to tighten as the seconds passed by. “Mm hm,” Peter finally hummed in affirmation and Tony released a long breath. “Okay Peter, we need to get out of here ASAP, but I need your help to do that. D’you think you’re up to helping me out?” Peter blinked lazily a few times then nodded his head. Whether or not he actually understood, Tony couldn’t tell. But he was relieved at the cognitive responses nonetheless. “Okay, good. That’s good. Do you think you can get out of those ropes?” Peter’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Ro-... there’s... um. There’s...” He shifted slightly and felt the restriction on his wrists. “Oh. Yeah, okay.” He pulled at them experimentally and then rolled onto his side toward Tony with a small grunt. His gray t-shirt and jeans had both turned several shades lighter from all the dust and fine sand clinging to them. The muscles in his arms bulged and his face scrunched again as he strained against his bonds. Within a few seconds his arms popped free and he was rubbing at the kinks in his shoulders. “Ugh... ow.” “Okay kid, good. Now your ankles.” He laid still long enough for Tony to think he hadn’t heard him before slowly curling into a ball to reach his ankles and pulling those ropes apart as well. “Where are we?” Peter’s voice was a bit rough, his words slurred. He coughed as the dust began to get to him, then winced and brought his hands up to his head. “Ow.” “I know, sorry kiddo. You got whacked on the head really good.” Peter felt around gingerly at the blood on his face, fingers following the trail up to what must have been an extremely tender bump at his hairline. He glanced at the flakes of dried blood that came away on his fingertips, then looked at Tony and began to crawl toward him. “In answer to your question, I don’t know where we are,” Tony said, watching him carefully as he approached and noting his dilated pupils with unease. “Not in the city, though, that’s for sure.” “Why are we?” Peter sat next to him and began to untie Tony’s ankles. “‘Why are we?’” “Um,” Peter stalled as he moved on to Tony’s hands, clearly having trouble talking and working with the ropes at the same time. “Here. I mean. Why’re we here? Do y’know what’s happening?” Yeah, definitely a concussion. The ties on his wrists finally fell away and Tony sat up, taking a few seconds to shake out the tingling in his hands before pulling himself to his feet. “Well. I don’t know much. The guys who took us weren’t the chatting type. Which was honestly disappointing, half the fun of kidnappings is the banter.” He began to circle the space, running his hands along the smooth walls and squinting up towards the circular hatch high above them. “What I did overhear though, is that they plan to put us on a plane, and that absolutely cannot happen. I’m guessing this is just a pit stop near some old unused airport and we’re all waiting for the plane to get here.” He was met with silence and turned his attention back to Peter, who was still sitting exactly where Tony had left him. They stared at each other for a few seconds and he could practically see the teenager’s poor rattled brain working overtime to catch up. Finally he nodded. “We can’t... uh, we can’t be here when the plane gets here.” Tony smiled fondly at him. “Right.” Peter got unsteadily to his feet, swaying a bit. Tony gripped his upper arm until he got his balance and then pointed up to the ceiling. “Okay, that’s the only way out, and there is an alarm connected to that hatch. I can’t get up there, but you can. If you can deactivate the alarm you should be able to get out.” Peter let out a long breath as he stared up at the metal box on the wall next to the hatch. “God.” “Yeah. I’m sorry, kid. I know you’re not in great shape. If I thought there was any other way to get us out of this, I would do it.” “Can we call someone?” “They took our phones. Maybe we can find them when we get up there, but first we have to actually get up there. There should be a rope ladder that you can toss down for us non-superhuman folks.” “Can we climb out the um... the lights?” Tony glanced at his intern in time to see him wobble and then lean heavily against the wall, closing his eyes. “Whoa, easy.” Tony grabbed his shoulder to help steady him against the wall. He stopped himself on the verge asking Peter whether he was feeling okay. The answer was obvious. Peter answered the unspoken question anyway. “My head really hurts, Mr. Stark. I feel like I might throw up.” He raised his eyes to meet Tony’s gaze, where the older man found a mixture of pain, guilt and shame that only Peter Parker was capable of. “Okay, that’s okay,” Tony said carefully, placing his hand on the non-bloodied side of Peter’s head and rubbing his hair briefly. “You can throw up if you need to, I won’t mind. Hey, I used to throw up on a weekly basis during my partying years. Just take it easy for minute.” Peter closed his eyes again and sagged against the wall. Tony stepped back to give him space in case he needed it, trying to balance the urgency of their situation with his unwillingness to worsen Peter’s condition or cause him more pain. He paced across the floor a couple times and took off his sport coat, leaving him in just his AC/DC shirt and jeans. Despite the bunker being mostly underground, the sun filtering in and the lack of fresh air had warmed it up considerably and it was beginning to feel like the inside of a kiln. He followed the sunbeams with his eyes and wondered if Peter was asking about the possibility of escaping through the windows when he mentioned climbing toward the lights. Unfortunately that wouldn’t be an option. The sunlight did shine through long tunnels that led up to the surface, but the tunnel openings were only about two feet by two feet. “No way through the windows, squirt, in case you were wondering.” “Huh. Yeah, I see.” Peter was at his side again, staring dazedly up with him. He was looking a little bit less pale but one of his hands had unconsciously found Tony’s sleeve to keep his balance and sweat was beginning to collect at his hairline. “So I just need to climb up to that box, right? Do you know how to turn it off? To um... to disarm it?” “You’ll have to tell me what it looks like when you get up there so we know what we’re working with. But I’m sure we can rub our two genius brain cells together and figure it out.” Peter gave a little huff of laughter and then, without preamble, began to crawl up the side of the dusty stone wall. It had to be at least three or four stories high in total, possibly more, and Tony couldn’t help but pace restlessly as he watched Peter climb higher and higher. His movements weren’t nearly as coordinated or fluid as Tony was used to seeing, but he was making good progress regardless, and Tony felt a touch of pride as he made his way up. Things began to take a bad turn when he reached about three quarters of the way up, however. His pace began to slow, his movements growing increasingly sluggish until finally he stopped altogether. Tony watched and waited for a few moments to see if Peter would start up again but he just stayed frozen against the wall. “Pete? How’re we doin’ up there?” “Dizzy,” the teenager murmured, leaning his forehead against the smooth limestone. His voice was quiet, but it echoed downward just enough for Tony to hear him. “It’s okay, Mr. Stark. It’s just... kinda hot up here.” Sweat had seeped through his t-shirt, darkening his back and under his arms. Of course, hot air rises, Tony thought. It was already stifling where Tony was on the ground. It must be near unbearable at the top. “You’re doing really good, kiddo. You gotta keep going, though, okay? We’re running out of time.” Tony’s heart clenched in guilt. Peter was clearly nearing his limit and Tony wanted nothing more than to set the kid down, let him rest, and find a way for them to escape himself. But their situation didn’t allow time for rest. Tony didn’t know when the men who took them would return, but he knew that things would almost surely go from bad to worse when they did. He had frighteningly little information on them, which in itself showed their intelligence and experience. He didn’t know who they were, where they were taking he and Peter, and most importantly why they were taken in the first place and what waited for them at their final destination. What he did know was that they were well prepared, with this bomb shelter and a goddamn plane on it’s way. Torture and/or execution were not at all outside the realm of possibility at the end of their journey and if pushing Peter past his limits now meant sparing him from that future, then that’s what he’d do. “Look up and to your right. Do you see that black pipe?” Peter didn’t move. “Pete, it looks like it might support you. If you can get to it you can hold onto it.” His intern nodded slowly against the stone wall but didn’t actually look for the pipe. “Kid?” Unease sat heavy in the pit of Tony’s stomach. “Peter? Stay with me, bud, stay focused.” The boy’s right hand slid slowly outward, blindly looking for the pipe like Tony had instructed him, but he was nowhere near it. “You gotta climb up a few more paces before you can -“ Peter’s head lolled back, his hands slid from the wall, and then he was free falling backwards through the air. Tony’s heart stopped dead in his chest, his blood running cold as his protege’s body plummeted towards him. Flashes of light illuminated his limp form as he whizzed through beams of dusty sunlight. Tony had stepped back a ways to get a good view of the wall but now he darted forward again, desperate to get under Peter before he hit the ground. He made it with a few seconds to spare and tilted backward slightly to be sure the kid wouldn’t fly straight through his arms. Then Peter slammed into him and Tony wrapped his arms protectively around the boy’s body as best he could before toppling backwards under him. As soon as he got his bearings he rolled them over, his heart thundering in his chest. “Peter!” He grabbed the teenager’s slack face between his hands and patted his cheeks. His skin was pink and overheated under his hands. “Kid?!” He pressed two fingers into Peter’s neck to check his heart rate. It was steady, though perhaps a little bit too fast. He pushed sweat-dampened curls off of his forehead, then let his fingers continue into his hair to look for any new bumps on the off chance that he had hit his head against the floor upon landing. He knew he wouldn’t find anything, he knew his arm had been protecting Peter’s head, but it made him feel better to check. “Peter,” he called firmly, snatching his sport coat from a few feet away and using the sleeve to wipe some of the sweat from his forehead and neck. Once relatively dry, he took the bottom of the boy’s shirt and began to flap it rapidly to get some air moving against him. “Come on, buddy. I just got you awake, you can’t conk out on me again so soon.” As if in reply, Peter’s hazy brown eyes fluttered open again. He slowly focused in on Tony’s face, then looked to the ceiling behind him. “Crap,” he moaned. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. Did I fall down?” “Yes, you fell down!” Tony snapped, nerves putting an unintentional bite to his words. But Peter paid it no mind, already pushing himself up into a sitting position. “Whoa whoa whoa, you stay down,” Tony ordered, keeping a firm grip on Peter’s shoulder to keep him from standing. Peter looked from the ceiling back down to Tony in confusion. “What? No, I can do it Mr. Stark. I just passed out for a minute, but I know I can do it.” “You passed out 30 feet in the air, Peter! You’re not going back up, no way.” “I think I just took too long. If I go shorter, then the heat won’t-... I mean if I go faster then I won’t get as hot as fast.” Tony took a few seconds trying to decide whether any of that made sense. Before he could work it out, Peter looked back up the wall and stood as though Tony’s grip on his shoulder wasn’t even there. Tony huffed and stood up as well. A dull ache flared through his lower back as he moved, followed by a sharp pain in one of his elbows. One of the downsides of being flattened by a free falling teenager, he figured, as he pushed himself up. “I was almost there,” Peter murmured, staring up at the alarm box. He listed dangerously to one side in his attempt to get to the wall but made it there nonetheless and braced himself against it with his hands. “Hey!” he said suddenly, rounding on Tony as though a light bulb had been turned on in his head. “How will you get out once I’m up there? How were they planning to get us out?” “There’s a rope ladder at the top, remember? They pulled it up behind them.” Once again it took an unhealthy amount of time for Peter to process and organize that information. Then he simply started up the wall again. “Hey!” Tony called, lurching forward. Peter was already moving faster than he had the first time, but Tony managed to grab onto his ankle. “I don’t want you going up there again. Come back down.” “I have to, Mr. Stark, that’s the only way out.” He looked down at Tony with earnest eyes but it only made Tony’s grip on him tighten. “Okay, just... just come down for a second. If you’re going to do it then we need to plan it better.” “What’s there to plan? I just have to go up.” “Okay, but there’s a couple pipes that - God, just come down for a second!” He gave Peter’s ankle a careful but insistent tug, then caught him under the arms when he obediently slid back to the ground. “Okay look.” Tony backed him up several steps and pointed at the pipes running vertically up the wall. “See that thin silver pipe? Head for that one first and hang onto it if you need to. Then go to the thicker one higher up and to the left of it, and then finally to the big black one right near the alarm box. If you get to that one you can probably let it support you while you work on the alarm. You almost made it there last time without stopping, so I bet you can do it if you just take a couple seconds at those first two pipes to rest.” To Tony’s relief, Peter seemed to follow his words pretty well. “Follow the pipes,” he mumbled, his eyes moving up the wall above them. “Follow the pipes,” Tony affirmed, giving Peter’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll help guide you from down here.” Peter nodded and began his second attempt. Still uncoordinated. Shaky. But there was a determination in his movements this time as he made a beeline for the first pipe, and he made it there surprisingly quickly. He wedged his foot in the gap where the pipe protruded from the wall and held on for a few seconds. “Awesome, good job. Only two more to go.” Peter glanced down at him with a weak smile before turning his attention upward and starting off again. “Hey, give yourself a minute, Pete. That was the plan.” “Sorry, Mr. Stark, I’ve got a chemistry quiz in two days that I haven’t studied for yet.” “Christ,” Tony muttered under his breath, but the corners of his lips twitched upwards in a small smile. Joking and thinking beyond his immediate surroundings was a good sign. He continued to make good time but was breathing heavily by the time he got to the second pipe. This time he wedged his foot in again but then crouched down on that leg and wrapped both hands around the pipe, leaning into it and letting it support some of his weight. “You feeling dizzy again?” Tony called up, rubbing nervously at his aching elbow and feeling frustratingly useless on the ground. “A little bit,” Peter replied, briefly closing his eyes as he hugged the pipe. “I’m just super tired. Like ‘I could sleep through the first Star Wars movie’ tired.” “Holy shit, that is tired.” “Not The Empire Strikes Back, though. Just the first one.” “Oh okay, so not all hope is lost.” “Not all hope, just A New Hope.” “...Was that a reference? You know I don’t get half of your references.” Peter opened his eyes wide and looked down at him in dismay. “That was such an easy one though, Mr. Stark.” “Whatever kid, just sit tight for a minute.” “No, I’m okay.” He disentangled himself from the pipe and started crawling again, eyes focused upward. “You’re not very good at listening and following instructions, you know that?” “Yeah, I know...” To Peter’s credit, he sounded genuinely disappointed in himself. They both quieted to allow Peter to save his breath as he reached the height he’d fallen from last time, but he just pushed steadily past it. The closer he got to the black pipe the faster he seemed to go. Tony wanted to yell for him to slow down, but before he could even open his mouth Peter was pulling up along side it and squeezing himself in between the pipe and the wall. “This is so dumb!” Peter called down as he got himself situated. Tony couldn’t help a snort of laughter. “What’s dumb?” “I scale buildings higher than this in like a third of the time almost every day.” “Sure, but not with a concussion after getting your head bashed in with a baseball bat.” “Wow, is that what happened?” “Yeah. Okay, can you reach the alarm from there?” Peter was a lot smaller and harder to see that high up but Tony watched him maneuver himself around until he was wedged in, balanced on one foot with his chest pressed against the wall and his back to the pipe. He stretched his arms above his head to reach the alarm box. “Yeah, I can mostly get to it.” Tony heard a tiny metallic popping sound followed by a small “catch!” from Peter and then the metal casing that covered the alarm was sailing down towards his head. Tony cursed, scrambling first away from its trajectory then back towards it as his mind raced through the pros and cons of trying to catch it versus letting it fall. Trying to catch it meant a good chance of bodily harm. It was only about the size of a shoebox but it was all metal and sharp corners and gravity was not his friend. However, letting it hit the ground would almost surely result in a sound loud enough to draw their kidnappers, who would open the hatch to investigate and find an oblivious and concussed Peter practically sitting on a silver platter for them. At the last second, he snatched up his sport coat and held it out, where the casing landed with a quiet thump. He only let himself revel in his split second genius for a moment before dropping the bundle to the ground and glaring up at his intern. “Peter!” he spat. “I’m sorry Mr. Stark, I’m going as fast as I can!” he called back, clearly mistaking the reason for his scolding as he fiddled with some of the wiring. “It’s just, it’s hard to see and my hands are kind of shaky so I can’t see what I’m doing.” “Stop! Stop doing things!” “I don’t think I should stop for too long.” “No, Peter, if we mess this up here then that’s it, we won’t get another chance. Tell me what you see so I know what we’re working with.” “Mr. Stark, I think the sun is setting,” he said, not turning away from whatever he was doing to the alarm. His voice was tight but surprisingly lucid for someone with a concussion. “My eyes have been weird and blurry since I woke up and it’s only getting darker and harder to see. If the sun sets before we do this then we’ll be stuck for the night.” Tony took a moment to assess their lighting and realized that Peter was right - it was dimmer than it was before and had begun to turn a deep golden hue. “This pipe is super duper hot and it’s making me really sweaty, most importantly my hands, which are already shaking all over the place and kind of tingly and weird and I’m actually really scared of passing out again because if I fell from here I would die and if you tried to catch me you might die too and it’s only getting worse as time goes by but I can do this, Mr. Stark, trust me!” Tony stared up at him in stunned silence. He forced himself to remember that this was the same kid who scavenged old electronics, re-purposing and crafting them into new and better inventions. The same kid who designed and built his own web shooters at fourteen years old. He scrubbed his hands down his face and heaved a great sigh. “Okay, kid. I trust y-“ “Okay, that should do it!” Tony dropped his hands in shock. “What? Already? Are you sure?” He squinted suspiciously up at Peter’s form, which was growing more and more shadowed as the seconds ticked by. “Yeah, I think so.” Tony could only watch with his heart in his throat as Peter left the relative safety of the pipe and crawled slowly and carefully right up to the corner where the wall met the ceiling hatch. He kept his feet stuck against the wall and leaned out to grab the large metal wheel that kept the hatch latched shut. He paused and Tony would’ve bet money that he had just stopped himself from turning to glance down at him. “You got this, kid.” Tony encouraged, trying his best to mask the anxious tremble in his voice. “Put your ear to the door, see if you can hear them outside.” The shadows covering Peter made it almost impossible for him to see the small responding nod. Several seconds of tense silence followed in which Tony assumed Peter was listening for the men outside, and then he slowly began to turn the wheel. Immediately a loud screeching noise flooded the cavern. At first Tony feared the alarm had gone off but then Peter yanked hard on the wheel and the screech changed into a metallic grind as the gears turned in the latch. With a final echoing clang it went silent again but Peter wasted no time in heaving the steel door upward with such force that it flipped on it’s hinges and hit the ground on the other side. Instantly the entire bomb shelter was flooded with the golden orange light of the setting sun and Tony was forced to look down and shield his eyes against the sudden change. When he looked back up, Peter was gone. He felt an instant rush of panic but knew not to call out. Instead he waited, arms crossed, one hand fidgeting as he stared hard at the lip of the opening. The sound of a scuffle erupted somewhere out of view and he momentarily stopped breathing. There was a grunt followed by the sharp call of someone who was definitely not Peter and then the air went silent again. Tony stood perfectly still, heart pounding and gut clenching with dread. A minute passed. Peter should have been able to send the ladder down by now. Another minute passed. Had he been knocked out again? He hadn’t been in good fighting shape. His balance was way off, he would be considerably weaker than normal. He even admitted that his vision had been poor since he woke up - “Hey look Mr. Stark, I found our phones!” Peter popped into view at the top of the hole with a smile on his face, curly hair back-lit by the coral sunset sky. He held a phone up that was way too far away for Tony to see and then looked at it sadly. “Yours got cracked though. Which is pretty surprising, considering you make your phones way more durable than this crappy one that I’ve had forever. I mean yours still turns on, see? But it’s hard to read the screen. Maybe they broke it on purpose? I know you do those durability tests on them specifically with hammers and drills and all kinds of things though. I saw the commercial! It was really cool, especially the slow motion and that techno-metal song.” He finally seemed to trail off but then suddenly perked up again. “Oh and hey, you were right! We are right near an old airport! I mean I think it’s an airport.” He looked off at something Tony couldn’t see and his patience began to dwindle. “There’s a long strip of dirt and dead grass that I guess could be used for landing a plane. Maybe it’s just a field.” “Can you please, for the love of God, send the ladder down so I can get the hell out of this stupid hole?” “Oh right, I found that too!” He disappeared again and Tony heard a few clanks and grunts and then the heavy rope and wood ladder came clattering loudly down the side of the bunker. Tony tugged on it a few times before beginning the long climb. Peter appeared over the edge again. “It wasn’t right next to the hatch here like I thought it would be. Oh my God, Mr. Stark, that’s such a long way down.” With that he disappeared yet again and didn’t return, leaving Tony to climb the rest of the way in relative silence and wonder how long this little adrenaline burst of Peter’s would last before he went downhill again. He got his answer when he finally, finally hauled himself up over the edge into the fresh air and found Peter flopped on his back, sweaty, dirty and flushed, with his arms folded over his face. Tony gave a sigh and tried unsuccessfully to dust himself off. “Ready to go home, kid?” Peter groaned and nodded before blindly holding both phones out to Tony. “I’m sorry Mr. Stark, I think your phone is broken. You can use mine if you want.” Tony shook his head and took the phones. “Alright, time to go home and get your noggin checked out. You did really good today. I’m proud.” He saw a small, bashful smile grow under Peter’s arms and couldn’t help but mirror it as he began to dial Happy’s number. “You can relax now, kiddo. I’ll take it from here.”

[carmenlire]

Fall Away

Here’s a little oneshot based on the sneak peak for 3x16!

read on ao3

His hands are shaking and as Alec blinks furious tears away, his gut clenches.

The fear chokes him, the gnawing ache that’s grown between his ribs becomes more pronounced with every minute that passes, with every second that goes by as Magnus lays in that fucking infirmary bed, unconscious and looking so damn small.

Fragile. That’s a word that Alec never thought could apply to his boyfriend. Magnus was larger than life, even in his most vulnerable moments, and seeing him laying defenseless with the endless drone of the oximeter sounding the only noise in the room, sets Alec on edge in the most terrible way.

The elevator doors open but Alec doesn’t move for a moment, using that momentary pause to take a bracing breath and get his emotions in check. It’s a losing battle but Alec’s loathe to give Rey any advantage, perceived or not.

It wouldn’t do to give his opponent an edge, to leave himself open to attack.

Steps measured, Alec walks to Magnus’s door-- for this loft will always be Magnus’s no matter what reptile slithers inside-- and raises his hand to knock. Only before his knuckles can make contact, both doors are being pulled opened.

Lorenzo Rey stands in the middle of the room, sunlight spilling in through the sheer curtains, and Alec feels rage sweep over him so fast that he’s dizzy with it. Rey, the smug bastard, doesn’t even deign to acknowledge him at first. Instead, his back faces Alec and he looks patently unconcerned with his visit.

“You--” Alec starts, but he doesn’t get any further before Rey’s turning to face him, looking shocked even as his eyes dance with glee.

“Mr. Lightwood,” Lorenzo starts, raising a hand to his chest in stunned surprise. “I didn’t see you there--”

Alec’s voice is harsh as he cuts Lorenzo off. “Stop,” he says coldly. “You know why I’m here.”

Raising an eyebrow in a supercilious expression, Lorenzo merely asks, “I do? I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we had a meeting scheduled.”

Alec takes a few steps forward, his body vibrating with the need to smash something. He feels anger and grief and worry and frustration clawing at his gut and it’s all he can do not to wipe that goddamn smug smirk off Rey’s face. Alec’s never pretended to be a better person, not when his family is concerned-- never when Magnus is concerned-- and he wants to make it clear just how far he’s willing to go to protect what’s his.

Still, he’s the Head of the Institute and decorum hasn’t been drilled into his skull for twenty years just to blow everything on the disgrace standing in front of him.

“What did you do,” he asks quietly, gaze trained on Lorenzo’s face to see his shifting expressions that betray his smugness, his seeming joy in the face of Alec’s own devastation.

“I have no idea what you mean,” Lorenzo says lightly. “I gave Bane what he wanted. He knew the risks.”

Recoiling, Alec snarls as he replies, “You knew the risks and you still did this to him? You still gave him something that could kill him--”

“Magnus is a grown man. You should have seen his face when I transferred my magic to him,” Rey muses. “He was like a kid in a candy store. I suppose momentary happiness was worth whatever. . . unpleasant side effects could manifest.”

“You’re despicable. You’re supposed to be the High Warlock and that comes with responsibility that you will never understand. You’re supposed to protect your people and instead you-- what? Toy with them, order them around like puppets? You’re not a leader,” Alec says quietly with scathing disgust. “You’re a goddamn parasite.”

Lorenzo’s eyes flash and Alec sees his hands clench into fists as he replies, “I’d be careful with how you speak to me, Mr. Lightwood. I wouldn’t want our professional relationship to grow tarnished.”

Scoffing, Alec shifts closer to Rey, using his height to tower over the man in front of him.

“Am I getting too close, Rey? It’s true, you know,” Alec taunts. “You order other warlocks not to help Magnus. You take credit for jobs you’re too incompetent to start, let alone finish. You give something to a warlock who is under your protection, knowing all the while that it could kill him.”

Alec’s breath hitches at the end, his mind replaying the last few minutes in his office last night. The way Magnus had collapsed, speaking in a language Alec had never heard before, the way he just laid on the floor, eyes squeezed shut in pain and nose bleeding.

Magnus has been unresponsive for sixteen hours and Alec hadn’t left his boyfriend’s side, not until he’d realized that Rey could hold the answers and that regardless if he could help or not-- whether he could be made to help or not-- Alec could do something instead of sitting at Magnus’s bedside while pleading for the love of his life to wake up.

Alec’s never felt so helpless and he’d grabbed the chance to do something.

His voice betrays him, a faint tremor showing just how close he is to losing it whenever he says, “Magnus is my world and if he dies, I swear I will--”

“You will what,” Lorenzo snaps back and without warning he’s bringing a hand up, blasting Alec away with yellow magic that’s not nearly as warm as Magnus’s own blue.

The force of the magic pushes Alec back and as it lands against his chest with all the subtlety of a Mack Truck, Alec feels the breath wrench from his lungs. He can’t get his footing and so he crashes against the floor, back pulsing with pain as he lands against the unforgiving wood.

It’s silent in the loft as Alec regains his equilibrium. He doesn’t pay any attention to Rey, focusing on measured breaths and cataloging the half dozen pulse points of pain lighting him up from the inside. He welcomes the pain, uses it to clear his head.

A few moments later, Alec climbs gracefully to his feet. Rey hasn’t said anything and the silence hangs over the room, tense and sick with anticipation.

Alec’s still worried about Magnus, still feels that gnawing grief hammering away at his heart but there’s vicious satisfaction singing up his spine and when he meets Rey’s eyes, he smiles coldly.

For his part, Rey’s doing his damnedest to look unconcerned, chin jutting up in challenge. Alec sees awareness flare in his eyes, though, and knows they both have played this match to its conclusion.

Walking slowly towards Lorenzo Rey, Alec’s not worried about another unexpected attack. He maintains the smile on his face, the faint upturn of his mouth, until he’s standing right in front of the High Warlock.

As his face turns stoic, Alec knows that his eyes betray him. He watches Rey’s throat work as he swallows harshly, feeling undisguised glee.

“I told you very recently that you were going to slip up,” Alec says quietly. He studies Lorenzo as he continues, voice growing frigid, “And when you did, I would be there, ready to take you down. You just assaulted the Head of the New York Institute in an unprovoked attack. That’s grounds for immediate arrest and placement in the City of Bones, Mr. Rey.”

“You baited me,” Rey starts through clenched teeth.

Alec chuckles and it’s devastating for its confidence. He tsks sadly. “You’re a leader, Rey, and you mean to tell me that you can’t control yourself when someone insults you? It’s clear that you’re ill-equipped your position and it’s my duty-- and my pleasure-- to see you punished.”

Bringing his hands up, Alec gestures to Rey, making sure that the warlock is paying close attention to his next words. “By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be a laughingstock of New York. And if I have my way? You’ll have no choice but to slither the hell back to whatever rock you crawled out from.”

He smiles but it’s humorless. “I knew that if I gave you enough rope, you’d hang yourself without me having to lift a goddamn finger. You touched what was mine, Rey, and for that I’ll see you pay in spades.”

Narrowing his eyes, Alec takes a step back, still watching Rey carefully. Rey doesn’t offer anything but a glare and Alec knows that he’s won. It’s a hollow victory considering his boyfriend is still in a coma-- that his heart’s still being squeezed in a vise grip-- but it’s victory nonetheless.

He looks around the loft, immediately cataloging the dozen differences that’s been made in the past few days. “Enjoy this pied-à-terre while you have it, Rey. I swear on the Angel, it won’t be yours for much longer.”

Turning on his heel, Alec leaves Rey standing in the middle of the room without a backwards glance.

He might not have gotten any answers but Alec feels lighter than he has since Magnus collapsed last night. As he makes his way back to his boyfriend, Alec knows that he’ll do whatever it takes to save Magnus.

After all, they always find their way back to each other and nothing-- no angel or demon or sanctimonious warlock-- is going to keep Alec from bringing Magnus home, back to him.

No matter what it takes, Alec resolves and his mind starts spinning with plans.

[hey-kids-want-some-avengers]

Going Once (Stucky)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: High school AU, punk Bucky, Nerd Steve, First kiss, first date, drop out Bucky, artist Steve, pre-serum Steve, asthma, fluff, charity auction, diners, and milkshakes. 

warnings: None

Description: Bucky helps out his sister, Becca, with her school auction fundraiser and it doesn’t actually suck.

Bucky’s still not sure how he got himself roped into this mess. Maybe the fact that he had never learned to say no to Rebecca was to blame, but all she ever had to do was batter her sweet blue eyes at him and he was gone. Becca had been through enough in her life already, Bucky didn’t need to leave her feeling alone too. Still, he wishes he’d denied her this, as he’s walking up the steps to the large building on the end of 1st street. On a day to day basis, Bucky couldn’t tell you what the building was for, but it was rented out often for town events such as this.

The particular event that Bucky wasn’t just attending but being forced to participate in was some kind of fundraiser. Becca had said it was for her school if he remembers right. The event was set up to be like some kind of auction. Girls and boys from Becca's school would choose to either be up for auction or to bid. Several girls and boys will walk out onto a platform and people will have a chance to bid on them. Once there’s a winner, the money bid being given to the charity, the two have the option to go on a dinner “date” paid for by the school. The whole thing sounded bizarre but Bucky had been willing to help out until he realized exactly what helping entailed.

“Becca, come on,” Bucky whined desperately, dragging his feet as he followed behind her into the building. They were here early (per her request) and the place was already stuffed full of high school and middle school students. “No one is gonna care if I’m not here.”

She spun on her heels to flash him a glare. “Yes, they will. I put your name on the roster. Come on, James, you promised.”

“That was before I realized helping you meant I had to be one of the things being auctioned off,” Bucky reminded, following her close with his hands jammed in his pockets. He was wearing a dress shirt with his leather jacket over it and some jeans, nothing fancy, even though she tried to wrangle him into a suit. She looked much nicer than he did, her long hair tied into a bun and dressed in heels and a long navy blue dress.

“It’s for a good cause,” she said, smiling. “It’ll be fine, everyone here still knows you.”

“Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Come on, I’ll be up there too.”

Bucky sighed. “Yeah, okay. You owe me.”

She laughed as she waved at someone she knew, lining up behind the other people ready for the auction. “No, I don’t,” she said simply before pulling him into line with her.

There were about a dozen people ahead of them so he had time before he had to step out in front of a bunch of people he didn’t really know and then let them bid actual money on him. There was no way he was doing dinner, though. No girl could be cute enough to talk him into that when he could go home and lay in bed, cursing his sisters' name. They could have the whole thing to themselves.

Bucky waited somewhat anxiously in line for what seemed like ages before the auction even began, after that everything was so loud he just tuned it all out and waited for his sentence. He could hear the thump of music playing and guys and girls hollering and cheering over some man raffling off numbers faster than Bucky could understand. Rebecca seemed very much in her element though, bouncing in place, chatting happily with the girl in front of her.

Seeing her so happy almost made it all worth it until the man was loudly announcing the next group and Rebecca was tugging at his arm to follow. “Come on, that’s us!”

Bucky followed like some kind of pack animal onto the platform, which felt much higher up than it had seemed from the ground. There were stage lights on overhead that made it almost impossible for Bucky to see, especially out into the audience. They lined up and everyone clapped and cheered and Bucky wanted to sink into the floor. He hadn’t seen almost 90% of these kids since he dropped out last year and really, he didn’t miss it.

The man shouted out their numbers, 15-22, Bucky being 19 and Becca 20, and then the bidding began. It started at only two bucks, which seemed ridiculous but it didn’t actually take that long before the girl a few people down from him was being bet on with numbers well up in the twenties. She was auctioned off in the end to one of her friends, who was laughing hysterically as she forked over thirty-two bucks. The bidding went on down the line in similar fashion, some only getting up to ten dollars and some nearly at fifty. It seemed like a perfect setup for hurt feelings and bad self-confidence but he shut his mouth.

When the bidding reached Bucky, his face was hot and he was more than ready to get the hell off the stage. There were one or two small bids placed after several long and agonizing seconds, likely from people not knowing who the hell he was. But then, like a fucking blessing from above, a voice shouted out over the music and hollered, “fifty bucks!”

A lot of people started whooping and clapping, including his sister who jabbed him in the side with her elbow, grinning ear to ear at him. Unsurprisingly, no one topped the ridiculous bid and then Bucky was helped off the stage and lead to the bidder. Now he just had to excuse himself from the night and leave the person with a lot of food.

“Here’s the coupon, just give it to the restaurant after you eat and they’ll comp it, have fun,” the woman said, handing it to Bucky, who looked like she was probably a teacher that had been roped into the ordeal.

“Oh, right, thanks,” he mumbled, looking up to find a guy grinning at him when they stopped walking. It took him way to long to realize that the guy in front of him, wearing a nice blue dress shirt, hair all combed nicely, was who’d won the bid. “Is this some kind of joke?” Bucky asked dryly.

“What?” the teen asked in response, raising an eyebrow.

“Is this some kind of joke,” Bucky repeated. “Because I’m not interested in playing some ‘hah, gay guy’ kinda joke, alright?”

The guy laughed softly in response, cheeks getting pink as he ducked his head. “No, no, it isn’t uh, it isn’t a joke, actually.”

“Then what?”

“I’m Steve,” he offered instead, jutting a slender hand out. He was tall, about Bucky’s height, lean and actually rather handsome. “We had an art class together before you uh-”

“Dropped out,” Bucky finished, shaking Steve’s hand awkwardly. “Right, sorry last year is kind of a blur, honestly.”

“No, no! It’s fine!” Steve said, quickly shaking his head. “I didn’t expect you to remember me, we never really talked.”

“You remembered me,” Bucky pointed out with a shrug. Steve just turned redder in response.

“I just saw you and uh, you looked really miserable, honestly?”

Bucky snorted, jerking his head at the door. “Wanna talk outside, where it isn’t deafening?”

“Huh? Oh, yes, please,” Steve smiled widely, following Bucky out.

Once they were outside, leaning against the wall around the corner, Bucky lit of a cigarette and tried to relax. “Want one,” he asked, holding the pack out, to which Steve quickly shook his head.

“No, thanks. I don’t smoke. Asthma.”

Bucky chuckled and nodded. “Alright. So, did you really just blow fifty dollars just to get me off stage from looking uncomfortable?”

Steve scratched the back of his head, staring pointedly at his feet. “Well, I mean, no. not exactly, anyway.”

“Then, why?”

“Honestly?”

“Yeah, for real,” Bucky nodded, blowing smoke slowly out his nose. “No bull.”

Steve exhaled, biting at his lip before opening his mouth. “Honestly, I was kinda hoping you’d go to that dinner with me?” he admitted, eyeing Bucky nervously.

“What? as what?”

“As…” Steve hesitated. “Maybe as a date?”

Bucky nearly choked on an inhale of smoke, coughing as he looked at Steve, but there wasn’t any trace of a joke there. Steve looked sincere and like he was maybe ready to hide under a rock. “Wow, you’re fuckin’ serious.”

“I mean, yeah.”

“You don’t even know me,” Bucky said, feeling a little awkward. The guy seemed really sincere and sweet but it all still felt really strange and set up. He could maybe remember seeing him in the hall a couple times before when he was still in school, but he couldn’t remember a single time they’d spoken before now.

Steve shrugged. “I’ve had a crush on you since seventh grade,” Steve laughed awkwardly. He was beet red now and it was making Bucky feel kind of bad. “And James, I’d really like to get to know you.”

“Bucky,” he said, waving a hand off at him. “Only my sister calls me James, honestly.”

“Bucky,” Steve mimics, smiling a little wider. “I think I’d like to get to know you a little better.” he tugged at the cuff of his shirt nervously before adjusting the thick-framed glasses perched on his nose.

Bucky smiled a little as he put the butt of his cigarette out on the wall behind him. Steve was beyond awkward, someone Bucky probably would have openly avoided in high school, but he seemed sweet and it wasn’t like he was still in contact with anyone from his previous high school clique. Becca was probably already off with a friend or some boy and she’d text him when she was ready anyway. “Yeah, alright, why not?”

“For real?” Steve gaped and Bucky laughed out loud, nodding.

“Yeah, let’s go eat, I’m starved.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Steve agreed feverishly, grinning so wide Bucky thought it might hurt his face. “Me too- I’m hungry.”

“Alright, dork,” Bucky shook his head and headed towards his car. “I’ll drive us there.”

Steve climbed into the passenger seat without any grace, even fumbling with the seatbelt while Bucky started up the car, letting the engine whine in protest for a moment before backing out of the parking lot. “So, there’s like five restaurants doing this coupon thing,” Bucky said, turning on the radio. “Where do you wanna go?”

Steve was bouncing his knee, looking out the window as Bucky drove. “Oh, uh, Kathy’s?”

“The diner?”

“Yeah, if that works?”

Bucky nodded and headed towards the small restaurant towards the edge of town. Bucky had only been there a few times before but the food had always been good and the music and decor made it feel like the ’60s. When they pulled in, it looked mostly empty, which was fine by Bucky. The fewer people he had to see, the better.

They headed in, nabbing a table towards the back and the waitress took the coupon and their drink orders before leaving them to talk.

“You didn’t get a milkshake?” Steve asked, almost in disbelief.

“No?”

“Have you ever had one from here before?”

“No, why? It’s just a milkshake, I don’t think my Dr. Pepper is gonna kill me,” Bucky chuckled, checking his phone briefly for any texts or calls from Rebecca.

“No, but you’re missing out,” Steve said, smiling as he propped his chin on his hand. “The milkshakes here are the best.” almost on queue, the waitress returned with their drinks, sliding them across the table.

“Need a few more minutes?” she asked, smiling sweetly.

“Uh, please,” Bucky mumbled and she nodded, leaving to help another table.

“Here, try it,” Steve said, pushing his milkshake over to Bucky. “It’s just chocolate.”

Bucky hesitated before taking a sip through the straw. It was thick and honestly, really freaking good. It was creamy and rich, and Bucky nodded. “Alright, you win, it’s good.”

“It’s great,” Steve corrected, nabbing it back to take a drink of his own, humming happily.

“Right,” Bucky chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “So, we had an art class together?”

Steve nodded, messing with his silverware. “Yeah, last year, third period with Mr. Dandaferd.”

Bucky didn’t remember that much truthfully, except that he’d been a terrible student that entire year- or what little of it he was there for.

“You sat at the front,” Steve said.

“Right,” he recalled, running a hand through his hair as he laughed nervously. “He moved me up there after-”

“-You were on your phone, yeah,” Steve smiled.

“How do you remember that and I don’t?”

“Maybe because you were always high?”

“Okay, okay, take it easy,” Bucky snorted.

“Sorry,” Steve flushed, though he was still grinning. “Anyways, I sat at the back, so you probably didn’t really even notice me.”

“If it makes things any better, I didn’t really pay attention to anything last year.”

“I’m not upset,” Steve shrugged, smiling to himself as he poked his finger against the prongs of his fork. “I guess I just wish I’d had the nerve to say something to you before you left. Honestly, when I saw you at the thing tonight, I couldn’t believe it, it was like, here it is, this is a second chance, and I just sorta shouted it out.”

Bucky could feel how warm his face was, listening to Steve ramble. It was weird thinking that someone like Steve, or anyone at all really, had a crush on Bucky while he was at school still, let alone enough of one for Steve to bet fifty dollars on him. “Was it worth it?” Bucky asked before he could really stop himself.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, I think so.”

Bucky smiled. “Cool, I’m glad.”

“You’re glad you came?”

“Yeah, I think I am, honestly. I haven’t gotten out a lot recently unless Becca’s dragging me somewhere.”

“Becca?” Steve asked, taking a sip of his milkshake.

“Rebecca, she’s my little sister,” Bucky explained, swirling his straw around his drink, watching the soda bubbles pop and fizz.

“Oh, she’s in advanced history,” Steve nodded. “Sophmore, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s crazy smart,” Bucky grinned.

Steve smiled back and they just looked at each other for a minute. It didn’t feel weird or tense, Bucky actually felt strangely more at ease. He was out, more or less. His sister knew he was bi and most of the school did too, but it felt good to be around another guy who actually liked him. He’d slept with a couple of guys before, mostly when they were all drunk as hell anyway, but this was worlds different. It felt like a normal relationship, like how he felt walking around with his (now ex) girlfriend on his arm, he felt confident.

“Are we ready to order now, gentlemen?” the waitress asked as she approached the table, pulling her pen out of her apron. Steve and Bucky both pulled their attention away from each other and nodded, clearing their throats awkwardly.

Bucky had hardly even looked at the menu. “Uh, the number five, please? With bacon.”

“Sure thing, and for you?” she asked, looking at Steve, who was fiddling with his glasses again.

“Um, I’ll have pancakes, please? Extra strawberries?”

She nodded happily. “Alright, I’ll have that right out.”

Bucky glanced back at Steve once she’d left. “Breakfast for dinner, huh?”

Steve shrugged. “Pancakes are good.”

“Burgers might be better,” Bucky argued lightly.

“Ehh, not if you don’t eat meat.”

Bucky gawked, leaning over the table to look closely at Steve, who was giggling softly, also leaning in, like there was some big secret. “You’re a freakin’ vegan?”

“Vegetarian,” Steve corrected.

“And that’s better?”

“I took a lot of animal health classes,” Steve explained shyly. “I just can’t get myself to eat meat now, I guess?”

“This might be a deal breaker, here,” Bucky teased and a look of worry crossed over Steve’s face before he realized Bucky was grinning and he punched him lightly, just on his shoulder.

“Fuck off,” Steve blushed, leaning back so he was sitting properly in his seat again.

“Nah, it’s cute, I guess.”

“Cute?”

Bucky made a so-so motion with his hand. “Yeah. you’re compassionate and shit, right? I think it’s cute.”

“Oh,” Steve breathed, his ears turning a shade darker than even his face.

“You always this pink?” Bucky asked, poking a finger into Steve’s thin cheek.

“What? No? Screw off, seriously,” Steve shrieked, though he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “You’re a jerk.”

“You’re just now figuring that out?”

“No, I guess not, you were a jerk in school too,” Steve deadpanned and Bucky laughed, finishing off the last of his soda.

Their food arrived only a moment later and they dug in almost immediately. Bucky hadn’t realized how hungry he was but he was sure glad to be stuffing his face now. Even Steve’s plate of pancakes stacked up and dripping with sugary sweet strawberries looked good.

“Can I ask you something?” Steve asked around a mouthful of pancakes.

“Shoot,” Bucky said, popping a french fry into his mouth as he checked his phone again. This time he actually did have a text from his sister but it just read, HEYY! Going to the movies with my friends and a guy! I’ll be home later, hope whoever you’re with that their cute! Bucky just shook his head and smiled.

“How come you dropped out?” Steve asked. “I mean, you were almost there, right? You’d be graduating this year, with me.”

Bucky sighed. It wasn’t exactly the direction he’d wanted the conversation to go, but it wasn’t a new question. He was asked that same question almost every day. “I dunno, I was going one way and school was like, completely another way. I don’t have something that I feel like I could ever go to school for and do for the rest of my life. Becca’s already applying for scholarships in engineering, ya know? I was never like that. I don’t have that same determination or drive, so I just felt like I was wasting my time there. I wasn’t ever gonna use that education anyways, and honestly, my grades were bad enough it wouldn’t have mattered.”

Steve looked a little sad, brow creased as he chewed another forkful of food. “You don’t have anything you want to do?”

“Nope.”

Steve sighed, visibly thinking for a moment. “Maybe you just haven’t found it yet. So yeah, you got high and fucked off when you should’ve been doing school work, but you don’t have to go to college for everything. There’s lots of stuff out there. I bet we could find something you like without even having to worry about school.”

Bucky just stared for a while. He’d only been talking to Steve for less than an hour and here he was, putting more dedication into his life than his parents had in the past several years. Bucky hadn’t found an easy talent that he loved and would make money, nothing ever interested him enough and it didn’t take very long before he was just burnt out. Sure, his dad was on his ass about grades a lot, but he didn’t care too much if the grades weren’t working towards anything.

“Like what?” Bucky asked, finishing off his fries. Steve lit up a little.

“Well, what kinda stuff do you like?”

“What do I like?” Bucky copied back, unsure.

“Yeah, sure. Like, what do you do all day when you aren’t at school?”

“Sleep.”

Steve laughed, louder and more open than he’d been all night. He was still crimson, but he seemed worlds more comfortable than when he’d first approached Bucky with the whole dinner idea. “Yeah, not what I meant.”

“I don’t know,” Bucky said honestly, trying to think. “Sometimes I get high? I watch way too much Netflix? I work out sometimes? That’s about it.”

“Okay, do you like working out?” he asked, bouncing in his seat a little.

Bucky scrunched his nose up. “Not enough to be a, like, personal trainer or anything.”

“Okay, do you like film?”

“I watch horror movies and Rick and Morty, Steve, I’m not a cinematic maniac.”

Steve hummed. “Do you like being around me?”

Bucky chuckled. “What?”

Steve shrugged, looking down at his plate, not that it hid his little smile or how red he was. “Do you like being around me?”

Bucky grinned. “Yeah, it’s pretty okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I have good news, then,” Steve said, glancing back at Bucky, glasses slipping down to perch on the edge of his nose. He had to resist the urge to reach across the table and push them back up himself.

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“You don’t have to go to college to see me.”

Bucky flicked a bit of his burger bun at Steve with a laugh. “Get out of here.”

“It’s true!”

“Yeah, yeah. Very helpful, punk.”

Steve just looked pleased as he finished off the last couple abandoned strawberries off his plate. “I could help you find something you really like to do though, I can tutor you even.”

“Why would you do that?” Bucky shook his head.

“What? Because, you have potential and I think you’re worth it, duh.”

“Don’t get cocky, I just met you and now you want to help me get my life together?”

“Kinda, yeah. I really like you, and it’s kinda scary, but I really wanna try.”

“Try?”

“Try ‘us’?”

Bucky couldn’t help the little bubble of laughter from his throat. “You wanna like, date-date me?”

Steve frowned and placed his silverware neatly on his plate. “No, I don’t know. I’m sorry, I got too ahead of myself- you just met me.”

Bucky pushed aside both of their plates so he could lean closer. “It wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

Steve looked at him closely, hands fidgeting nervously. “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

“What, a date?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“You’ve never been on a date?”

Steve shook his head. “Nope.”

“How??”

Steve laughed and made a vague gesture to himself. “I’m trying for an art scholarship, Bucky, I’m not playing football or something.”

“Who gives a fuck about that stuff?”

“You did,” Steve offered meekly and Bucky frowned because he wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t anymore. That’s part of why I left, all the stereotypes and the pushing to just be something? I hated it. I mean, they were all so pushy, I didn’t smoke before I met Brock or anyone.”

“So… what are you saying?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” Bucky laughed and Steve mirrored his smile. “But you like me and I just met you and I already like you, so fuck it, let’s try it.”

Steve couldn’t seem to contain the excited little gasp that came from him as he grabbed Bucky’s hands excitedly. “Really? You’re serious?”

Bucky shook him off of his hands while laughing, nodding. Steve was redder than a tomato and he looked stupid happy. “Yeah, I’m serious.”

“Like date how?” Steve asked urgently, fingers twisting at his shirt collar, all nervous and excited energy bubbling over. “Date as in we try dinner again and see how it goes, or date like I can hold your hand and I can wear your stupid leather jacket kind of date?”

Bucky burst out laughing then, which successfully drew the attention of several people to their table, seeming to mortify Steve as he sunk down in his seat, flushing. “Which kind do you want?”

“Uhh, both, I guess? Like, uh, I wanna still go to lunch with you and get to know you but I wanna know you aren’t gonna be doing the same thing an hour later with someone else. Is that- is that fair?”

Bucky watched Steve twist himself into a puddle of anxiety before he smiled softly and just shrugged. “Yeah, I think that’s fair.”

“Is everyone still staring?” Steve asked nervously, refusing to look away from Bucky.

“Huh? No.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at the teen across from him, beet red and wide-eyed behind his glasses and slightly frazzled hair. “Here?”

“N-not if you don’t want to.”

“Go ahead.”

“Really? What if someone sees?”

“So? Fuck them.”

Steve laughed nervously, eyes a little brighter with determination. “Right, okay. Fuck them,” he breathed as he leaned over to meet Bucky across the table, letting their lips brush before he pressed his gently to Buckys’.

It was more of a brush of their lips, a quick peck, than a real kiss, but it was still sweet and nice, and that alone made Steve look like he might die on the spot, so Bucky let him pull away, back into his own seat. “So?”

“That- it was good- I liked it-” Steve stammered shyly as he pulled his inhaler from his pocket and took a couple puffs.

“You gonna be okay?” Bucky grinned and Steve nodded quickly before putting the inhaler away again.

“Sorry- I’ve been wanting to do that since I met you- and uh, yeah.”

“You’re a nerd.”

“Technically I’m your nerd now though, right?” Steve asked with a soft smile, ducking his head a little so he didn't have to look directly at Bucky.

“Yeah, technically.” he smiled. “Let’s go, huh? I wanna kiss you in my car for real.”

[fionajaneisaac]

Tiresias

Picture the scene: A boy of fifteen. With the usual dreams And the usual routine. 

Heading to school with a dullness inside Borne of desires left unsatisfied.

Is he stifled or is he just Learning the ways of his times? Give him limbs that are awkward But know how to climb.

Give him a gait that you know. Give him hopes. His days are so painfully slow, But he copes.

This morning He wakes to the same old alarm. Slumps in the shower Like a frog in the rain. Winks at the mirror — does cool, does charm. Shaves soft skin. Nods at the pain. No hair yet. Soon though.

Headphones on. Last half of last night’s joint in his lips. Bass so loud it feels like a movie. Scuffing his trainers. Swinging his hips.

They’re always laughing, The kids at the bus stop. He tries to ignore them, But it doesn’t help.

Hood up, he walks past them. Blowing out smoke rings. Singing out Wu-Tang. Hating himself.

Into the woods, he takes the old path.

There is the rope swing, There is the bath lying broken. There is his name in the bark. There are the trees, So slim and so stark In the thin little woodland. Hardly a forest, The last of the green washed clean by the grey. There is the bike chain that nobody wanted,  There is a child’s shoe — hope they’re ok.

Out of the damp leaves and mulch in the pathway His eye is caught by a glittering flash. A dark moving something, A mess of bright muscle. Ore in a forge, A deep, billowing gash.

Snakes. Two snakes! Coiling, uncoiling Boiling and cooling Oil in a cauldron Foil in a river Soil on a mood ring.

He stares: They spoil each other. They do things He has only dreamt of doing.

His blood’s alive inside him, fizzing. He shuts his eyes and watches blotches Underneath his lids for minutes. But peeks before he knows he’s peeking.

Clutching his knees, he squats on his haunches Watching the scales as they bounce and contort And before he has thought he has reached out a fist And picked up a short stick that lies near a ditch.

He swings from above And breaks open the fortress. The snakes, now apart, Seem smaller, more awkward. They flee for their love. The boy, swaying and nauseous Falls to the floor More raw than before, More tortured. 

He feels himself shiver, contorting. A current is coursing within him,  Shorting his circuits. He curses, His curses are perfect The trees bow their branches in worship.

His body’s responding to something beyond him. Swells where before there were dips. A crunching of muscle, the hips Opening up, bones roaring, Beneath them, boyhood shrinking, falling inwards. Thinking nothing. Feeling new blood rushing.

Scuffing ankles on the forest floor As his shape moves His body pours itself to puddles. He fits and starts. He will be more than the sum of his parts. He shakes and shouts, a screwed-up mouth. A pain that only women know Grabs him in the guts. He slows to gently stuttered breaths He stops.  He feels. He’s still. He rests.

And slowly, with caution She climbs to her feet. Wipes tears from her cheeks with her sleeve. Frowns at the trees. How could you stay so calm? Places a nervous palm Against her new face, her new chest, The new flesh of her arm.

She approaches the school gates, She can’t face her class. She can’t go home, not now.

She is glass Amongst sand.

She turns and retreats. Finds herself deep In the smog and the heat,  The fog and the meat Of the bodies that beat out their lives In the throb of the street. She learns to be small and discreet. She learns to be thankful for all that she eats. She learns how to smile Without meaning an inch of it. She learns how to swim in the stink And not sink in it.  It’s as if this is all she has known.

Give her a face that is kind, that belongs To a woman you know Who is strong And believes in the rightness of doing things wrong.

Give her a body that breathes deep at night That is warm and unending; as total as light. 

Let her live.

Brighter every day That she was not so young and desperate. Bigger every minute That she settled all the restless Urges in her chest And when she woke from nightmares, breathless, She would piece herself together Like some relic found in ash and clay, A precious, ancient necklace.

When she was complete again, She’d wolfwalk into town. And drink down every wave that came To break her spirits down. She was wild and wonderful. A star throughout the district. A red light dreadnought. Queen among misfits.

And yes, sometimes they sneered When they glimpsed her in the gutter. It made her crack her knuckles, Shake her head and start to mutter To herself under her breath You posh pricks don’t know fucking shit. And they would look away And light their cigarettes and spit. 

She liked to giggle with the pretty boys and kiss the lonely addicts And weave exquisite curtains for the dismal little attics Where they lay their heads at night, Out of beads and string and plastic. Each corner she inhabited made warmer by her magic.

She grew expert in the field Of love She learned to see and feel The deepest secrets lurking in The hearts of those who came to swim In her dark waters. She knew things. She knew Kings And she bore daughters. She knew love, she made her fortune. Till she met her match. Exhaustion.

He was an older man, A man who liked to hold her hand A man who made her feel like she was rolling round on golden sand. A man as soft as any girl A man as hard as any luck. She understood what life was for Each time they bucked and came unstuck.

True love takes its toll On souls Who are not used to feeling whole.

They tangle limbs and feel the shudders,  All the world is nothing. Lovers:  Promising each other not to take the vital parts, While even as they mutter it, they’re giving up their hearts.

It is a new moon In late May She gives way To his weight They are laid out flat by the lake.

She can feel His blood in her veins. He can feel Her pulse in his wrists. And they kiss. And the moon hangs open and orange Like a wound in the mist.

He asks her to marry him. Have him forever and never be lonely but only together. She thinks that he’s taking the piss. Throws him a scowl so sharp his darkest parts are shafted, blasted, ripped in half, She starts to laugh, she hits her palms Against the grass. He lifts his arms, I mean it Shining cheeks, his garments creased, Naked skin on cold damp heath. I mean it. Silence. Let it land. She cannot  breathe or stand.  She crawls towards him, smiling. Takes his hand. Of course. They kiss and both expand. 

She decides she must go back,  Seek out a past. A mother, a father, Whatever she has.  A blessing or something,  Maybe an answer.

She packs some things and leaves at dawn, alone.  And heads out North. For home. 

By dusk she’s walking the woods of her youth, Smelling the air. Is this where I’m from? Who was I when I was here last?  If this isn’t home Then where has home gone? 

She sees a small clearing between the trees. She’s rocks in a river.  She’s leaves in a breeze.

There is a shopping trolley There are some keys There is a hawthorn There’s a horse chestnut There’s a used condom There’s an old desk lamp There’s a nice conker... Is that blood or ketchup? Birds in the branches Light in the darkness Like sand in the toes of the bushes.

There!

Right there.

There in the path. In the leaves and the bracken Two black backs untangle, dragons.  Coupling, shuffling, grappling. She is staggering. Can’t stop looking. Strange unravelling. Something from before, something forgotten. Someone she used to be. Some rotten something in her darkest somewhere, Scale and danger. Nature, sunglare. Faint, she takes a branch and holds it Steadies herself. Stills her shoulders. Snakes and sex and innocence And nothing really makes much sense.  Who was I then? She watches awed. And grips the branch like it’s a sword.

Believing. Believing.

I should be leaving.

She breaks the branch with sudden force. She swings the branch, and knows its course: The snakes, no chance, are soon divorced.

A sudden dark and squelching tension. She panics, sweats, can’t breathe. Head pounds. Her body writhes and juts. No sounds.

The image of her lover’s face Begins to shake and wilt and fade, She loses him, there, in the shade.

It hurts. She’s felt this once before. She knows this pain, this change, this awe.

She feels herself retract and harden. Feels her bones enlarging,  Moving, arching. Something charging, She’s old milk bursting from its carton.

Shaken, floored, a body heaving Writhing, smiling, something’s pleasing, Finding her throat open, screaming, Hoarse and full of light Her body stops. She feels his might. His veins thicken in intense delight. 

A man again. He stands, confused. And walks away. Too much to lose.

This poor once-boy, sudden-woman, Who’d lived so long and done so well And kept so much so deeply hidden, Now found himself before the bell Of some new door in some new town. The pain of new beginnings.  Everything that went before Gushed in him. Water overfilling.

Smash the cup and let it happen.

Tiresias. A full grown human. Moves on from what he cannot fathom. He swears his past will not consume him. 

And so the man with many pasts Matures into his present,  But he feels his waters move In the last arc of the crescent,  And as the moon expands to full He feels his blood respond,  But as all humans know to do, He holds it in And soldiers on.

Imagine how it feels To walk so far away from life and love,  To know that all you’ve known Is now No longer enough.

All the blood they’d bled, All the children they had borne, All the mouths their mouths had met, Behind them now. 

Forlorn, He staggers knee-deep through his pity Sadness grabs his shins. A stranger in a strangers’ city, Where new strangeness begins.

In distant gold terrain,  Mount Olympus, pink and milky, Zeus and Hera fight again,  Raw and honest, foul and filthy, Hera with her eyes screwed up I swear you’re out to kill me.  She weeps and screams and he enjoys  The feeling of his power. He froths and paces, thunders, pleads; Tempers frayed, their bodies need A break from fighting — But none comes.  Not after this — another tongue Roasted in his total blaze. Surprise, surprise, old Zeus has strayed.

The fighting carries on for days. Down on Earth the weather’s mental. Hurricanes and ancient heat. Sudden freezes ice the deserts. Rain leaves craters in concrete. Hera’s ripping up her dresses. — Am I not enough for you?

Zeus is melted, stares intently — Sister, you are all i love. — Then why? — Because these others tempt me. And unlike you, I lack the guts To turn away and know my path.

Hera swigs straight from the cask, The nectar’s strong and soothers her heart. She sighs in disbelief, don’t start.

Zeus, bored of being wrong and sorry. Puffs his chest up, shows his might. Hera knows his godly body Well enough to not take fright.

I don’t know what the fuss is for Zeus begins, playing wounded. Women like it more than Men. I don’t even want to do it.  What you get from me is more Than what I get from you. Red rag to a Minotaur.

What? says Zeus. It’s true.

They row like it’s a holy war,  The Earth suffers their anger. Finally, when neither has The strength to raise the anchor And the ship of their relations Is broken-keeled and sinking, And they are fighting over what the other Might have just been thinking,

They stop for ragged breaths. The sky is bruised and black. Hera won’t be pacified Until he takes it back.

Tiresias, at peace at last, Is older now than ever, He’s found a lovely partner And they’ve made a life together.  He won’t walk the woods alone; He’ll only walk the heath. He blanks out all the lives he’s known, But they survive beneath. He’s started doing pottery. He’s joined the local choir. If he thinks about his history His heart is set on fire. 

There’s no way back, There is no track That leads to his past lives. He sets himself on forwards. And he loves. And he survives.

His lover is a gentle man, Together they are free. The enjoy each other I love him. And he loves me. 

But on dark days he likes to walk Besides the heartsick sea. And as the waves begin to howl He drops down to his knees,  And cries for all he’s lost And for all he used to be.

Zeus — in final stage of fury — Beats his massive fists Against the stormy clouds And says — there’s only one who can fix this. 

Tiresias is home alone, His partner’s out all day; He teaches in the local school Good students but shit pay.

The weather’s turning nasty The house rattles and moans. The door’s ripped from its hinges And Tiresias is thrown.

The house is filled with stormclouds Rain smashes at his cheeks  He is too shocked to recognise That this is how god speaks.

Suddenly the storm abates The house is filled with sun Zeus, in his human form,  Sticks up a golden thumb, Hey.

Tiresias is terrified. He can barely speak. Zeus nods in recognition. Swans in, takes a seat.

Look, me and Hera Are having this domestic, Pathetic — I know. But that’s what to be expected From an eternity of marriage. Anyway You’re my only hope.

And Zeus takes him by the hand — might as well have been the throat — And ascends the mount Olympus And dumps him before the queen.

Here’s the guy to settle it. Tiresias has been Man and woman both. 

So ask him — who enjoys it more? A woman or a man?

Tiresias is stunned But wants to help them if he can. 

His mind begins to shudder,  Every kiss comes back to bite him. His body buckles under The old echoes of excitement.

He sees every time his open mouth has yelled, All tongue and teeth, He sees the necks and backs and legs, His rising chest, his blushing cheeks. He remembers after sex,  The woman he once was, Lying in her happiness Like nothing had been lost.

He thinks of how he finds it now, Spent and drained and feeling deep. The agony that follows. The desperate need for sleep. He feels it moving like a hand Across his shaking thighs. He takes his time and works it out, And slowly he describes:

If you could split sexual Please into tenths, Women would get nine. That leaves just one For men.

Zeus grins, Smug, In that way he does. And Hera feels the boiling of her blood.

She, in rage and consternation, Screams towards Tiresias Takes the eyes out from his head And leaves him blind and sore and red. And gore is pouring forth before them all. His arms are spread. He wishes with his broken heart He could be someone else instead.

Zeus is shocked, appalled, impressed. Mate he says Ah mate.

Tiresias knows better Than to howl and remonstrate But his swollen eyeballs roll in grief; His face is aged with pain. Zeus, still reeling from his victory, Accepts it is a shame.

What one god has done, No other god can undo. I can’t give you back your eyes But I can give you something new.

Zeus lays a mighty palm Against the bloody sockets And flood’s the body’s blindness With the inner sight of prophets.

Tiresias was melted, But inside the vision grew. A weakness in his legs, A sobbing emptiness, shot through With some new tenderness, Some blue And calm uncurling in his guts.

He staggered like a child pretending blindness, Hands out in the dark. But couldn’t close his eyes to what exploded in his heart. He could see the truth of things He couldn’t look away. Nothing left but to accept, He had been born to live this day.

And so, with face streaked warpaint red, And every sense burnt white with pain, He was given seven lifetimes And dropped back down to Earth again.

A whole life lived At the mercy of the fates. Here he comes again,  The old seer with the shakes. Wheeled on to mutter prophecy, Chased off by angry kings. Tiresias, you lived for more Than what the legend sings.

Tiresias — you’ve lost Everyone you ever loved.  But you stand beneath The cruelty of the sun that burns above And you offer only toothless grins For all that you have seen.

Tiresias, you hold your own.  Each you that you have been.

You walk among us, slow, A ragged crow, With breath to blow, In which we’ll see a truth That we’ll wish we didn’t know. 

You’re the crazy on the corner Old, and smelling weird Queuing for electric With birdbones in your beard. You stagger on regardless, Swaying in the street Summoning an oracle That can’t be arsed to meet.

While we assemble selves online And stare into our phones, You are bright and terrifying,  Breath and flesh and bone. 

Tiresias — you teach us What it means: to hold your own.

Kate Tempest

[wonderlandinrope]

Not All Monsters Part 7

Sam x Reader

Warning: none really

Summary: Aris and the brothers reunite.

Auther notes: So sorry it has taken forever to get this out. I hope you guys enjoy it. Feedback is always nice. <3

Stepping further off the path more blood pooled near the roots of the small turned up a tree. It was fresh no more than two maybe three hours old. Hoping desperately that it was an animal attack, not wanting to admit his subconscious was right. Off in the distance, Sam’s name was being called. Aris beckoning him, happier than he had ever seen her. There was no way he could drag her back into that world. Pull her down back into the darkness. Reuniting with the small group Aris was eager to introduce everyone. But before she could Sam turned to Dean.

“I dropped my knife back just off the trail. Was wondering if you could go take a look for me?” Sam suggested.

“It’s your knife, you go look for it,” Dean stated, winking at one of the girls that had tagged along with Aris.

Jutting his head in the direction of the uprooted tree. “You should go  look Dean, in case I missed it.” His voice stressed an urgency that only the brothers would know.

Turning to his brother the look in his eye was one he had seen too many times before. A sharp nod of his head Dean backtracked to the spot that he had been directed in. A shimmer of a metal pointing at an upturned tree, a dejected sigh escaped his lips as the pool of blood caught his attention. Walking a little further off the trail he found what could only be a human finger.  Standing he looks around for any other signs that there may be something out there.

Taking her place next to Sam who now seemed on edge, Aris took his arm without a second thought. His thick arms tense, there was a flash of apprehension then it was gone. It was a micro-expression, an unconscious physical response to an emotion. Chances were Sam wasn’t even aware that he had unwittingly given Aris more information than was intended. He smiled down showing his dimples.

“Is something wrong?” There was a hint of suspicion in her voice.

“No. Of course not, just haven’t had a day off in while.” Reassuring her, Sam placed his hand on hers.

She had missed him more than she wanted to admit, feeling a flash of heat in her cheeks. Nodding she thought maybe she was just reading into the stress he was carrying. He had been hunting all his life, after all, there were bound to be moments that an unpleasant memories came to him. Trusting that he was, in fact, being honest Aris pushed the image away, determined that their reunion would be a pleasant experience. Looking back to where Dean had run off too she wondered what was taking him so long.

“How long have you been traveling with the group?” Sam calling her attention back to him.

“About a month or so. Ran into them while hiking through the 100-Miles of Maine. I was alone they offered to let me tag along.” Aris explained nonchalantly. “It was just supposed to be until we got through the one trail. But Gorge over there insisted that I join them for the time being. To be completely truthful it was nice to have some company.”

Sam eyed Gorge closely as the man chatted with a thin tall brunette. He was only a few inches short than himself, with a muscular frame, tan with short cropped hair, a thin face a straight draw. His shoulder had a tattoo of a Celtic knot on it. Sizing up the other man as if they were competing for Aris attention, Jealousy reared its ugly head again. The logical side of him knew that he shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought of seeing Aris past today. Though if his instincts panned out to be accurate then there was no way he would be letting her out of his sights. At least not until the ganked whatever was out there.

Catching a glimpse of him,  Aris knew that she had said something without meaning to, causing Sam’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. Oddly enough seeing him this way reminded her of why she missed him so much. He filled her with a sense of security she didn’t feel anywhere else. As if no matter what happened she knew everything would be ok. Her heart began to flutter, bringing a giddiness. Leaning her head on Sam’s bicep she breathed in his familiar scent.

The feeling of her body against his reminded him all too much of the last time they had seen each other. “I’ve missed you.” He whispered into her hair.

“Next time we shouldn’t wait so long to catch up.” Her honeyed voice had a hint of flirtation.

Wanting to reciprocate but unable to as Dean reappeared hitting him on the shoulder, then handing him the knife that had been left behind. “Found your knife. Hey Aris.”

George and the two girls looked back at the brothers. George, in particular, took an extra second to take in the image of Sam and Aris interlocked. Puffing out his chest, he cleared his throat. Feeling put on the spot Aris stood up knowing that it was her turn to speak, letting go of Sam she picked up her bag before addressing the group.

“Hey guys, this is Sam and Dean. Dean and Sam, this is Chloe, Jill, and George.”

Pointing to each as they began to walk. Chloe was the tall brunette, she was thin like bean poll, pale with freckles and a confidence that echoed in her smile. Jill had soft features, her body curved like a river, with bright eyes filled with a genuine curiosity. They were all seasoned hikers, who knew what they were doing. Had a year of experience traveling through almost every terrain imaginable.  Aris was the newcomer to the group, but they treated her like family. Forming a quick bond, it was easy to why she had stuck with the group.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” George's orotund voice taking charge. “Let’s get this freak show on the road.”

Aris ran ahead of the boys to catch up with Jill. They were the ones that had planned the hike. The route that they had mapped out was a big loop, however, they knew through an acquaintance that there was a pristine climbing area just off the trail. It was just a matter of agreeing when to go off the trail that they still needed to work out. Hoping that they would hit the cliffs in a few hours Aris thought that she knew the perfect spot near a river they could follow.

In a hushed voice, Dean addressed the issue at hand. “Did you see the finger?”

“No just the blood.” With an edge to his voice, this was the last thing he wanted. But was equally anxious and relieved. Anxious at the thought that a monster could be out ready to attack. Yet relieved that he insisted on accompanying Aris. “There have been no reports of anyone going missing.”

“Someone out there is probably missing more than a finger based on the amount of blood.” Dean scoffed. “We’ll come back later tonight. I’m regretting not packing the flamethrower this time.”

“I’m feeling a little naked myself.” Sam patting the only gun he brought. Other than the knife they didn’t have much else on them.

Looking back Aris could see the brothers gossiping amongst themselves it seemed innocent enough, but micro expression wouldn't leave her alone. She gave Sam a quick wave and a smile he winked in return. Even if there was something more going on she didn't feel the need to weigh in on it., Aris thought it best not to poke a sleeping bear. Noticing a look of amusement jill was shooting at her Aris couldn't help but roll her eyes at the women.

“Shut up.” Aris playfully pushed Jill's shoulder.

“What? I didn't say anything.” She blinks as she spoke slowly sounding as innocent as possible. Then with a devilish smile adding “but I was thinking it.”

Pulling the bag tighter at the straps Jill's pace hastened with ease. She was a born outdoors woman could walk forever and never tire. Trudging ahead she fell in line with Chloe who was already munching on a pack of beef jerky. Passing the bag back to Aris she went to catch only to have the bag stolen mid-grab by George. Holding it out of the reach of the shorter women he snickered as she attempted to jump for it.

“Show me what you go short stuff.” He was making a show of the familiarity that Aris and he shared. Jumping and sprinting after him Aris could help but laugh as she reaches for the bag. “Don't hold back girl. I know you can do better than that.”

Observing the carefree, blissful, enthusiasm before him it was easy for Sam to see why she was doing so well. Having people that cared, made her laugh, challenged her, it was what she needed. Even if it did hurt to know that he couldn't remain a part of it. Refusing to drag her into the chaos that they lived in. No the best thing that he could do for her was staying as far away as possible.

Jill and Chloe cheered Aris on as she made one last attempt to take back the jerky. Nearly tackling George to the ground she snatches the bag holding it victoriously in the air. The group erupted in applause standing she took a bowe. Dean whistled. Jogging back to the boys she shared her prize. George waited patiently just ahead for them to catch up.

As the day became hot with the midday sun they finally made it to the cliffs, towering over them the sheer face was much larger than they had thought. Rocks stuck out at jagged edges, divots in the massive wall turned to cracks. Leading up the jagged wall there were already a few cams to attach the rope to the ledge. Taking a seat at the bottom, George and Jill began to unravel their ropes while Aris and Chloe began to pull out their shoes, pulling on their harnesses. Sam looked up his eyes following the top then down toward what could be a few caves. He pointed them out to Dean.

“Either of you have any experience Rock climbing?” George inquired.

“Not exactly,” Sam stated. “But I’m always willing to learn.”

“I think I’m going to check out the cliff. You have fun, Sammy.” Dean patted his brother on the back then took off.

Hiking up the harness around her waist causing the shorts she wore cling to her. Noticing the way Sam lingered watching as she then began to pull on her shoes. George turned to see what Sam was looking at, only to maneuver himself between the two gripping the rope in hand.

“She’s something else isn’t she,” George stated abruptly.

Running his hand through his hair Sam half smiled. “Couldn’t argue there.”

George took the ropes in his hands checking them for loose or damaged strands. “I couldn’t help but notice how close you two seemed back there. In the car, she told me you helped her out of a bad situation.”

Sam put his hand on his hips, unsure of how to read the situation. While George seemed friendly enough, the way he interacted with Aris or kept Made his way between the two old friends gave the impression that he may be hiding something. Choosing to give the man the benefit of the doubt, Sam put his best foot forward.

“Well yes, she was in a rough spot. I was in place that I could help her out. Just did what any other person would do.” Using a blanket statement to answering the question Sam didn't want to give away anything that Aris may not have said.

“No not anyone would have. Most people usually just go about minding their own.” George praised. “You are a good man Sam, so I’m going to ask you a favor here. Aris is my friend, and I care about her a lot so don’t break her heart ok?”

Mildly confused Sam nodded his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good. Now let's get you harnessed up, You're going to learn how to be anchor today.” Smiling a little more friendly this time, they both made their way over the bottom of the cliff to start the ascent.

Making his way thru the woods following along the bottom of the cliff Dean kept a hand at the ready.  Large boulders, fallen trees, created an obstacle course where the trail had ended. A few small caves were placed along the wall, none of which were large enough for anything to fit into. The wall was wet with condensation where the air moved freely in and out of the tunnel system, letting on that there was likely to be a bigger opening.

A few birds dove down trying to chance Dean from their nests. Swatting them away he cursed under his breath. Tripping backward over a rotten log, he landed in a bush. Thorns grabbing at his clothes, tearing at his skin. Struggling he rolled to the edge falling between the bush and the cave wall. Using one hand to push him off the ground a gust of cool air hit his face, it carried the smell of rotten meat. Just before he was a tight opening, taking out his phone he used it as a flashlight, just beyond the opening was a large cavern. Hanging against the wall only a few yards from the opening was a body half eaten.

“Son of Bitch.” Scrambling back it became urgent for him to get back to Sammy, and Aris. The ropes that tied the victim's hands told him this was no animal kill.

[astoryasong]

A Discovery Immemorial

The crowd cheered wildly from the dock. Women waved their kerchiefs, men whistled and hollered, all had come to bid the expedition adieu. 

Jane Ellis Thatcher stood at the fore of the ship. While her crew of waved and beamed in reply to the masses, she had already turned her eyes to the horizon. She had spent years reaching this moment. From traversing the deserts of Africa, to exploring the crypts of eastern Asia, to hunting down expert etymologists in the States, she had literally been all over the world in search of the information contained within the small, worn journal she now held in her hands. Her cropped hair and loose shirt tugged in the breeze as she turned to face her helmsman, a fierce grin spreading across her face. "Set the course and increase speed. Let's make history!"

By the time the crew spotted the storm clouds on the horizon, there was nothing to do but face the maelstrom head-on. Thatcher and her crew scrambled to prepare the ship as they passed beneath the front. As the wind picked up, so did the waves. Lightning streaked across the sky and a chill rain began to beat down upon the deck. "Tie yourselves to the mast, it's going to be a bumpy ride!" she yelled over the thunder. As the storm progressed, the ship began to tilt dangerously from side to side. The crew squinted and bared their teeth as they scrambled to dump buckets of water over the edge, trying to relieve the ship from the water she was taking on.

After almost four hours, just as everyone was beginning to succumb to exhaustion and the cold, the clouds parted, revealing a sparkling night sky. The moon reflected brilliantly upon the calming waves. They had made it. 

For the first time in weeks, Thatcher spotted a bird. Soon, if her manuscript was correct, they would be able to see land. Sure enough, before the sun had even reached its halfway point, her navigator spotted mountains through their spyglass. The expedition approached the shore quickly. Within a few hours, they had anchored the boat and rowed to meet the white sand. A hundred meters or so from the edge of the water, a dense green rainforest loomed. A cacophony of unidentifiable chirps, yowls, hisses, clicks, and snorts resounded from within the tree line. Thatcher eyed the forest warily. "Let's make camp here tonight. Tomorrow, we begin our trek."

 Two crewmembers walked in front of the group, their machetes glinting as they hacked a path through the dense underbrush. Thatcher followed closely behind, compass in one hand, journal in the other. The rest followed after, sweat pouring down their faces as they shouldered backpacks that extended past the tops of their heads. Every few hundred feet, Thatcher consulted the little book in her hands--at this pace, they might be able to make the halfway point by tomorrow evening. Upon reaching a small clearing, the crew paused to fish out their canteens. One glanced upwards. "Ma'am, should we make camp for the night?" Thatcher peered at the now pastel pink sky through the gaps in the canopy and nodded. With a sigh of relief, the crew dropped their supplies and began to pitch their tents. 

Light snoring and sporadic rustling could be heard coming from within the small tents circling the campfire. Thatcher sat next to the fire, squinting at the pages of her journal as she made note of the day's events. Today's excursions had seen breathtaking waterfalls surrounded by misty rainbows, birds in a spectacular array of colors and sizes, and some particularly quick quicksand, which had claimed one person's right shoe. Consumed by her writing, Thatcher failed to notice the large cat silently prowling the tree line. Only when she heard the scream of the beast did her head snap up. She threw up her arms just in time to protect her face as the cat knocked her onto her back, pinning her to the ground. It snapped at her throat. Thinking quickly, Thatcher stuffed the journal into the cat's maw and scrambled backwards. The cat shook its head and spat out the little book before refocusing on its prey.

It crouched and snarled as it inched towards her. Thatcher backed away slowly, eyes darting as she looked for her machete. She spotted it... on the other side of the camp. With a terrible yowl, the cat lepta at her, and a bang echoed throughout the clearing. The cat landed on Thatcher, sending her back to ground, but to her surprise, the creature was limp. With a grunt, she pushed the cat off and got to her feet. One of her crew was standing on the other side of the fire, a smoking pistol in hand. They grinned at each other before Thatcher returned her attention on the dead cat. It would have almost passed for a leopard, if not for the green pelt. "How strange," Thatcher murmured. She looked for her journal, eager to record this finding. Apart from a toothy indentation in the leather cover, the journal was intact, if not a bit sticky. Without a moment's hesitation, she returned to her writing spot beside the campfire, her machete now within arm's reach. 

They stood before the cavern. The entrance was nearly 30 feet tall, but despite the expansive opening, the cave seemed to take in very little light. According to Thatcher's notes, this cave marked the last leg of their journey. Beyond this final obstacle, if her decades of research were correct, laid the ruins of the lost city of the N'täyli people. Assuming they existed in the first place, the N'täyli were rumored to be a people of immense agricultural, medicinal, and mechanical aptitude, far more advanced than any other cultures during at the height of their civilization nearly 1,500 years ago. There had even been hintings at a N'täyli attempt to reach the stars, something the modern world had yet to achieve. If Thatcher found these ruins, not only would her name go down in history, but she could help unlock the mysteries of the N'täyli's near-mythical technological feats, perhaps leading to significant ameliorations in her own day and age. "Time to get out the lanterns, ma'am?" The question from her crew brought her mind back to the present. "Yes, good idea. Let's get going," she replied, as apprehensive as she was determined. 

The lanterns did little to cut through the darkness that enveloped them. The cave, which cut into the side of the mountains they had first spied from the boat several weeks ago, proceeded at an upward angle. This proved treacherous, as not only was the uneven floor coated in a sheen of slick dampness and moss, but the walls and ceiling were covered with rocky protrusions and formations. A wrong step could spell death. Thatcher held her lantern close to her journal, re-reading the final line for the thousandth time. "Seek the stars that aren't to find the stars that are." Of all the clues she had discovered, this was the most perplexing. In any language, it sounded like nonsense. The tablet she had found it engraved upon provided no other context. She had researched constellations and spent hours in labs and libraries and planetariums. She had even placed the clue in her local classifieds, hoping someone would read it and miraculously contact her with an answer. To no avail. For this part of her journey, she was on her own. 

A yell pierced the air. Thatcher whipped her head around, looking for the source of the noise. One of the team had slipped over the side of the ledge they had all been inching along. Thatcher's heart thudded in her chest as she peered over the ledge to the chasm below. There, precariously dangling from a jutting rock by a single backpack strap, hung her crewmember. "Help me!" they called, panic lacing their voice. Thatcher immediately pulled a rope out of her pack, tossing one end to the rest of her crew and lowering the other towards the person below. With the rope only inches away from their outstretched hand, a sharp cracking noise echoed throughout the cavern. Everything happened in slow motion. Thatcher and her crewmember looked at each other for one, terrifying moment. Then, the rock formation from which they hung crumbled. They kept eye contact with Thatcher as they fell, their screaming ending abruptly with the sound of a heavy thud. 

Thatcher stared into darkness. The cave was eerily silent. "Ma'am," one of her remaining team put their hand on her shoulder, "There's nothing we can do. Let's keep going, get away from this ledge." Just as they turned to go, Thatcher threw up her hand. "No, wait," she hissed. All she could hear for a few moments was the dripping of water, until...

"Thatcher?" a weak voice rasped from below. Her heart leapt in her chest. "Are you all right?" she called. "I think my arm's broken, but ma'am, you gotta see this." 

It had taken some time, but finally Thatcher and the remainder of her crew had found a way to reach their teammate. They were bruised, and their arm was definitely broken, but as soon as she found them, they had immediately directed her attention to a small opening in the rock wall to her right. Thatcher held her lantern out in front of her as she ducked through the entrance. Then, her jaw dropped. 

She was standing in a huge cavern. A small lake filled the basin of the cave, which reflected the light of the thousands and thousands of stars set into the ceiling above. Well, not stars exactly, but something that glowed like stars. Her crew shuffled in behind her, and all were also taken aback. The sight was incredible. But even more incredible was the tiny glimpse of morning light filtering in from the ceiling on the other side of the cave. "Seek the stars that aren't to find the stars that are," Thatcher grinned. Time to go for a little swim.

If climbing down the rock face earlier had been difficult, then this was excruciating. One crewmember was injured, all of them were soaking wet, and Thatcher found limited purchase amongst the stones as she looked for ways to reach the exit above. At least the bit of sunlight streaming through the opening was helpful. "Let me give it a go," one of her crew suggested. "Once I get up there, I'll toss the rope down." Thatcher obliged and handed over the rope. They began to scale the wall, exhibiting a finesse that could only have come from years of experience. She knew she had put together a good team, but she was especially proud of them in this moment. She only hoped that this had all been worth their while. 

During their climb, the crewmember had a couple of close calls, their damp fingers slipping from their hold, but after about fifteen minutes, they had reached the top. They scrambled through the opening, and Thatcher waited for the rope. It didn't come. She called out to them, worry creeping over her thoughts for a moment before she heard a muffled, excited reply. She couldn't make out what they said, but moments later, the rope fell through the opening and onto the floor in front of her feet. "Okay, you guys first." 

One of her crew threw their injured teammate over their shoulder and, grunting with effort, strained to pulled the both of them up the rope. Thatcher watched them slowly proceed, her thoughts rapidly spinning. "Seek the stars that aren't to find the stars that are." That was the last clue. There were no more instructions after this, no riddles nor maps nor diagrams. The N'täyli ruins were either here, or this was a dead end. Or, the ruins would be so ravaged by time, that there was naught left to study. Or, the N'täyli had never existed. 

Thatcher took a deep breath and steadied herself. She was the leader of this expedition, and she needed to be confident and decisive in her actions. The last member of her crew was nearing the top of the rope. She took one last look at the glowing cavern behind her, and began her ascent. 

The sunlight burned her eyes. She placed a hand over her face for a moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust. She could hear the heavy breathing of her crew members, but otherwise, they were silent. That was odd. And there was something in the background--a humming noise? She wasn't sure. She once again attempted to open her eyes, doing so more slowly this time. 

Before her laid the most spectacular sight of her life. In the valley beneath the plateau on which they stood rested an enormous, glistening city. Miles and miles of tall, silver buildings shone brightly in the sunlight, nestled comfortably in between the surrounding mountains. Small specks bustled about on streets below, and the source of the humming seemed to emanate from the hundreds of glittering crafts zipping through the air amongst the structures. The N'täyli, it would seem, were alive and well. 

Thatcher sank to her knees. This discovery surpassed her wildest dreams. There, before her own eyes, was a civilization that was not only thriving, but had seemed to surpass the rest of the world. The city blurred into a silver haze as tears welled in her eyes. One of her crew punched her arm, "We did it!" Thatcher leapt to her feet, grinning from ear to ear, and laughed in giddy celebration with her team.

She peered back at the city below. She could just make out three small, shining aircrafts rising towards the plateau, each appearing to carry a single rider. Thatcher smiled one more time at her crew before pushing back her hair, yanking her shirt straight, and turning to face the oncoming vehicles. If she was going to be the first to see the N'täyli in over 1,500 years, she would be damned if she wasn't going to make a good first impression. 

- LMR

[ageeksnerdyworld]

A Desert Oasis

Climbing down the steep, sandstone, cliff she focuses on the rock face in front of her. All she has to hold on to is a lengthy corded rope. And even though the rope is secure topside the fear of slipping, of falling, courses through her veins. A long list of what ifs ran through her mind. The quiet whisper of anxiety was too sharp to ignore. The loud beat of her heart didn't help her situation either.

But all of that worry distracted her just enough that her left foot slipped on a large rock.

She tries to right her footing but the rope suddenly goes taught. In the rush to get here she must've misjudged how much she needed. Her eyes go wide as she notices the rope rubbing against the side of the cliff. She swears under her breath as she sees how thin the rope is now. The bit of rope left snaps under her weight.

Biting her bottom lip she braces herself against the fall.

She falls on her back with her hands splayed out. A cloud of sand and dust clouded around her upon impact. Much to her surprise she hadn't fallen as far as she thought. Just as that thought ran through her mind sharp pain ballooned in her right hand.

She brought her hand to her face and her suspicions were proven right. Blood was already pooling at the surface. A bit was beginning to make a slow crawl down her palm. It was pretty obvious that the cut had to be deeper than it looked.

Idiot! You forgot the gloves again, she thought.

Holding her injured hand up and away from her body she pushed herself into a sitting position. With her left hand she reached for the leather satchel. She pulled it around her torso so that it now sat in her lap.

Tossing the flap open she blindly thrusts her hand inside.

It was easy enough to find her canteen.

The metal was cool to the touch and as she removed it from the satchel she could hear the faint sloshing sound of the water within. Holding it against her chest with her arm she twisted the cap off with her left hand. She held her bleeding hand out in front of her and took up the metal canteen in her left. Pouring the water as best she could she rinsed the blood off. She watched the light pink water fall on the dry ground beneath.

Reaching back into her satchel once more she pulled out a lengthy rag. Holding a part in her teeth she ripped the cloth in two. She took one of the pieces and began wrapping her injured hand. When she was satisfied with the bandage she returned the rest of the cloth to the satchel. With a tired sigh she pulled herself off the ground.

"This better be fucking worth it," she muttered as she wiped the dirt off her pants.

Looking around for a minute or two she couldn't see any signs of what she traveled so far for. Despite that she knew that this was the right way. She felt that all too familiar pull towards something unseen. And that feeling was stronger than it ever was before. She had to be close.

She just had to.

The wind suddenly began to pick up and blow sand and dust in its wake. A dirt storm would soon follow she was positive. Anyone else from the city wouldn't have the slightest idea of what to do in a sand storm but she wasn't like them. She wasn't an amateur. Even if she did forget to bring important things sometimes she still knew what she was doing. A thin, white, scarf was wrapped around her head. She pulled the bottom section over her nose to protect her mouth. In the same moment she pulled the goggles, that sat on her head, over her eyes with her other hand.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, she repeated in her mind as she looked for cover.

Rushing to the opposite side of the canyon she looked for anything that she could use as cover. Preferably a cave but she didn't have time to be picky. A large boulder would be good enough. Getting stuck in a sandstorm miles and miles from the city, from any civilization, without any cover would surely be the death of her.

As she moved down the canyon wall she squinted against the wind and sand. With one hand on the sandstone she guided herself along the canyon floor. Just as she was coming up on a curve in the path something caught her eye. A shadow on the very edge of the curve in the sandstone.

She rushed towards it without thinking twice. Running straight into the dark shape she hoped she wasn't going to ram herself into hard sandstone.

She didn't.

The cool, dark, interior of the cave hit her like a wall. Suddenly everything was different. She shivered under her loose, thin, clothing. With deep, relieved, breaths she tries to make out her surroundings. A faint light shines from deeper within the cave. She instinctively walks towards it; searching for warmth.

The sound of her footsteps echoed in the space.

A strange scurrying sound grabbed her attention and she rapidly turned towards it. But the dark cavern walls gave no answer.

It's nothing, Meedah, she told herself. Probably just a mouse.

She stepped up to the fire and knelt down in front of it. Holding her hands out close enough to warm them she sighed. The bright orange firelight illuminated her tan skin; turning it a warmer color. This was good. The cave was safe and warm. She could stay here until the storm passed.

Meedah pulled her satchel off her shoulder and set it down. She pushed it away from the fire so that it wouldn't burn. Losing the bag meant losing everything. She couldn't let that happen. As she put her hands up to unravel the scarf off her head a sensation at her back made her freeze.

Someone else was there and they weren't friendly.

The cold, sharp, blade pushing into her neck was proof enough.

Meedah’s heart raced in her chest. Fear ran through her veins as her mind screamed that this was the end. She forced her breathing to slow and her mind to clear. As she did Meedah opened her mouth and hoped her fear didn't show in her voice.

"I--I didn't know anyone lived here. I was ju--just getting out of the storm."

The knife dug deeper and she knew that if it wasn't for the scarf blood would be running down her throat at that moment.

At the same time Meedah realized that the pull she felt earlier had stopped. There was only one thing that meant. She gasped and rapidly turned around. The thoughts of the mysterious assailant and the knife completely gone from her mind.

"It's you!"

With the fire at her back Meedah could now see that the other person was a young woman. Age was hard to tell in the firelight but the mysterious cave dweller seemed to be about Meedah’s age. She had long, unkempt, straw colored hair. Her limbs were bone thin and her skin was pale white. Her fingernails were bitten beyond the point of bleeding. The knife was still in the young woman's hand but she now held it closer to herself.

"I've been looking everywhere for you!"

The young woman's eyes went wide with terror. She shoved the knife outwards and backed away. Looking around frantically the young woman searched for a way out. But she had inadvertently backed herself into a corner.

As she did the firelight reflected off the knife blade and illuminated a deep, ugly, scar along her pale wrist.

"I--I didn't mean, damn, so--sorry. Sorry. Um, my name’s Meedah by the way," she stumbled.

Meedah couldn’t take her eyes off of the scar. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight but she was drawn to it nonetheless. She knew exactly what made the scars on the mysterious woman’s skin. Meedah knew exactly why this woman’s skin was marred with these scars. She knew that there'd be another round scarred area close to her elbow. And that the other arm would match.

She knew because she had the same.

Reaching up Meedah unwrapped the scarf from her head. Short, curly, dark hair fell into place around her face. She put the scarf in the satchel and put her hands on her knees. Meedah sighed and looked at the woman across from her.

"The Nisjaa? They got me too," she said as she revealed her own scars.

The other woman inched forward ever so slightly. But she didn't let go of the knife.

"When I was with them they called me a compass. They treated us like tools. They never saw us as people."

Meedah held her breath and tried not to cry. The reminders of that part of her life were all over her body; marring her skin. Those times were never something she wanted to think about. And she couldn't let others suffer the same or worse fate. Besides she knew that Nisjaa wasn't the only society that thrived off enslaving people like her. That was why she did this.

"I can feel the special ability in other people," she continued. "That's how I found you. I know it's hard to believe but I'm here to help."

“I know,” the other woman whispered quietly; dropping the knife at her side. “I saw.”

Meedah nodded; understanding what the woman meant. There was another like her back in the city. No one knew his real name but he went by Seer. The thought of her personal mission repeating in the back of her mind Meedah inched closer to the other woman.

This time the young woman didn’t back away.

Meedah smiled, “What’s your name?"

The other woman shook her head.

"You don't remember? Or you don't have one?" Meedah asked; fearing the answer.

The other woman just nodded.

Meedah didn't know what to say so she changed the subject. She talked about the City of Ivory. The city was a mixture of those with powers, and those without, from all different walks of life. How it was a safe haven for people like her. The man who made the city did so with that purpose in mind. He had the ability to move mountains. Literally. The city itself was made out of chunks of ivory he dredged up from beneath the ground. The large, sharp, columns and pieces jutting through the earth formed built-in defenses.

Meedah could see the excitement and wonder in the young woman’s eyes as she talked. So she took the gamble and brought up Seer. The young woman was completely shocked to hear that there was another with the ability she had. Meedah told her how the people in the city respected him. She talked about how even though he was very old you’d never know it. He always kept up with the rowdy children who visited him. He ran with them and joked and laughed as if he was still a young boy. Many of the adults would give him food or clothes and help him with whatever he needed.

“Everyone loves Seer,” Meedah said.

She noticed that the young woman was crying. The tears fell silently and Meedah realized that she wanted to hide it. Meedah reached her hand out and wiped the young woman’s cheek.

“It’s okay to cry,” she said. “let it out. Don’t let the sadness build up inside and turn wicked and ugly.”

The young woman leaned into Meedah’s chest; tears wetting her clothes. She held onto Meedah with a surprisingly tight grip. It was as if she thought Meedah would disappear. As if she were a mere illusion from the desert heat. Meedah ran her hand across the young woman’s hair; hoping that the motion would bring her some comfort.

“Does he change anything from his visions? Do people get mad at him because he can’t?”

“Never,” Meedah replied. “Not even once.”

"They hurt me and burned me because I couldn't change anything I saw. Called me bad things. Omen. Witch. Devil. Curse."

"Oracle suits you better."

A strong silence fell between the two. The young woman was very embarrassed. It was obvious that she wasn't expecting someone to call her something nice. She was far too accustomed to the hateful terms other spit in her face.

"How did you escape?" Meedah asked, after a long while, breaking the silence.

The young woman shook her head; "I don't remember."

Meedah ran a hand through her hair. She had to get this woman to leave the cave. It wasn't safe in the slightest sense of the word. Unsure of how to go about it she stood up and brushed the bits of sand and dirt off her clothes. She picked her satchel up off the ground. As she prepared to leave she felt the other woman's eyes on her back.

“What do they call you?” the young woman asked.

“Seeker. Been called Gatherer and Shepherd once or twice. Mostly just Meedah though,” she replied with a chuckle.

She turned towards the mouth of the cave and waited. Waited and listened to the outside. She didn't hear the whipping wind anymore. Hopefully that meant that the storm died down and that it was safe to step out. Wrapping the scarf around her head once more Meedah shoved her hair under the cloth.

As Meedah walked through the cave she heard the other woman get up. She slowly began to follow Meedah. It was clear that she was hesitant. But something in her wanted to go wherever Meedah was going.

The young woman followed Meedah all the way to the mouth of the cave. Once there she stopped. She squinted against the sun and shuffled back into the shadows. Meedah stood at the edge; just barely in the shade. She turned back to the young woman with a hopeful smile and an outstretched hand.

"Come to the city with me?" Meedah asked.

The young woman shook her head. She looked about with a fearful look in her eyes. She rapidly ran her hands through the ends of her hair. Meedah walked over and stopped a foot or so away from the young woman. In the light of midday Meedah could now see the other woman clearly.

Her pale skin was covered with burns, cuts, and other old, deep, scars. Freckles dotted the unmarred skin and her nose. The patterns were random like the stars dotting the night sky. Her eyes were bright and lively. Small specks of blue cut through the green; forming a intriguing and beautiful color scheme. The clothes she wore were tattered, raggedy, and dirty beyond belief. One shoulder of the dress was missing. Despite how distressed her dress was Meedah couldn't take her eyes off her.

"I won't let anyone hurt you ever again, Keraa. I promise."

"Keraa?" the young woman asked giving Meedah a confused stare.

"Yeah, uh," Meedah said as she rubbed the back of her head. She tried her best to hide her embarrassment.

"You said you didn’t have a name so I thought... It means undying beauty. And, well, you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

Once again silence fell between the two. Meedah was the one who looked away this time. She wasn't hiding her embarrassment at all but she didn't want the other woman to see. The woman just stared at Meedah. It was a strange, blank, expression. After a minute or so she spoke in a quiet whisper.

"You think I'm beautiful?"

Meedah looked up to see the other woman's wide eyed expression. She could the tears forming at the edges of her eyes. Meedah wanted nothing more than to hold her tightly. To make her feel safe and loved. Instead Meedah just silently nodded and held her hand out once more.

"Keraa," the young woman whispered.

She stared at the ground and repeated the name to herself. She started whispering quietly as if it was a curse she wasn't allowed to say. Her voice became louder and more confident with each repetition.

"Keraa the Oracle," she said with a newfound excitement.

She looked up with the exclamation and her happiness was reflected on her face. That was when she saw Meedah's outstretched hand. It was Meedah's right; bloody and bandaged.

"Come with me?"

"I think I'd like that," Keraa said as she took Meedah's hand.