#the tremor is cannon to me

[the-entitie]

I remember so many people who head cannon (even in mlp, those wing boners) that any kind of avian character will flutter or flap their wings during sex.

That being said,

Having Gaz stretched out under you, his cock uselessly hanging down between his thighs as you trace his spine just to watch his wings unfurl in this steady stretch.

Watching those muscles tremble between his shoulders as tremors rock through his wings, those feathers practically shivering with every movement of your fingers buried so deep into him he swears your already rearranging his guts.

His back bent and ass up, giving room for his wings to spread out as you work him open. Those quiet moans getting louder as your free hand starts to gently thread through the feathers, this burning feeling consuming his gut.

When he's spilling over the sheets, those wings are splattered out in a way he can't remember doing. Listening to the quiet snickering behind him as you now lean down to whisper,

"So pretty all displayed out under me,"

It's almost funny how sensitive those down feathers of his are,

"Didnt even need to fuck you, your desperate enough for my fingers to do the trick."

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Circumstances

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Maverick refuses to bring you on the mission which further deteriorates your already fragile relationship. And the true reason behind his decision catches you off guard.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, and, as always, a hefty dose of emotional torment

WC: 3000+

This is Part 4 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Lieutenant!” Maverick calls after you as you storm out of the briefing room before anybody else can exit. You hear him pushing past the others as he follows you out the door. “Lieutenant!” he repeats, his voice echoing in the narrow passageway.

You quicken your pace, the curve of the steel walls blurring in your peripherals as you nearly sprint through the winding corridor.

“Y/N!” Maverick hollers over the persistent rattle of the ship. You keep your course without acknowledging him, but the hum of machinery drowns out Maverick’s footsteps and you don’t hear him running up behind you until it’s too late and he’s cutting you off before you can go any further. He stops so abruptly that you nearly crash into him. He releases a sharp breath, his lips pressed together tightly, and blocks your way when you try to move past. “Don’t take it personally,” he says.

“Fuck off,” you snap, trying to go around him.

Maverick holds his hand out to stop you and gives his head a slight shake. “If this is your idea of professionalism” –

You scoff indignantly. How dare he speak of professionalism after washing you out for no good reason. You’re the best pilot in the squadron – he’d admitted it himself – so his decision to keep you off the mission is personal. “Never would’ve pegged you for the spiteful type,” you say, trying to keep your voice level despite its underlying tremor.

Maverick’s gaze drifts as he looks stoically over your shoulder. He seems unfazed by your assessment or, at the very least, he hides it well. “This has nothing to do with our relationship,” he says, still not meeting your eye.

“What relationship?” you respond maliciously, reminding him that he had severed whatever connection the two of you shared weeks ago.

Maverick breathes out steadily and looks at you once more. “I can’t take you,” he says firmly. “Please don’t question my judgement.”

You let out a bitter chuckle and it reverberates in the passage, for a moment drowning out the rumble of the ship’s engines. “Did Cyclone put you up to this?” you ask.

Maverick shakes his head sternly. “This was my decision.”

You grit your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling. You’re so offended that Maverick has excluded you from the operation, it hardly matters why he chose to do it. All that matters is that Maverick keeps hurting you. And all you want to do is hurt him back. “Let me pass,” you hiss, trying again to force your way through.

Maverick takes a hold of your arms to keep you in place. “Don’t do this,” he says, an edge to his tone despite the composure on his face.

“Do what?” you yell, fighting his firm grasp.

“You’re acting irrationally,” Maverick says in a low voice.

“Oh, am I?” you respond scathingly.

“We can discuss this in a mature, professional manner,” he urges.

You blink at him, stunned at his choice of words. “Are you saying I’m immature?”

He shakes his head solemnly. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“That’s the word you used” –

“Just listen to me, for god’s sake!” he growls, his volume rising threateningly. But you’re only pleased to witness the dissolution of his self-control. After all, you can’t be the only one here who feels something.

“I am listening!” you retort. “You’re professional and I’m not. You’re mature and I’m” –

“Why are you starting a fight?”

“I didn’t start this!” you shout, finally freeing yourself of his grip.

You push past him angrily, but he doesn’t let you get far before roaring, “YOU’RE A LOOSE CANNON!”

You freeze, silent for a second as you process this appraisal.

“If I can’t trust you down here, how am I supposed to trust you up there?” he yells.

You turn slowly to look at him, meeting his turbulent gaze. “You don’t trust me?” you ask quietly, your words barely audible amidst the clatter of the ship.

Maverick’s features contort apologetically, as though he immediately regrets his words. He sighs despairingly, his eyes glistening in the low, fluorescent lights as he squares his jaw. “I can’t get you to cooperate,” he says regretfully. “I don’t know how.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

“You’re a hell of a pilot,” he continues. “But, unfortunately, that’s not enough.”

You suck in your cheeks and bite into them aggressively, trying your best not to cry.

“I can’t have you ignoring my orders up there because you think you know better” –

“I would never –” you start, but he cuts you off.

“You have not demonstrated evidence to the contrary,” he says decisively.

“Maybe not during training, but on a mission” –

Maverick shakes his head. “I told you, Lieutenant: we train like we fight. So that, when we fight, we can come back alive. Ignoring instructions during training may have created bad habits that I don’t want to creep up on us in combat.”

“So, this is punishment?”

“No,” Maverick says quietly. “This is a lesson.”

You let out a disdainful sigh. “What’s the difference?”

Maverick takes a step toward you. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says.

You back away. “And yet, here we are.”

Maverick watches you levelly, having nearly regained all his composure. “I don’t want to leave this unresolved.”

You consider his request. In just a few hours, he will be leaving for a mission from which he may never return. And yet, your resentment gets the best of you anyhow. “You know that I would never jeopardize this mission,” you say through gritted teeth. “You know that your reason for leaving me behind is bullshit!”

Maverick nods solemnly. “You’re entitled to that opinion.”

You clench your jaw. “Don’t patronize me.”

Maverick doesn’t say much after this point, and you’re too distraught to carry on the conversation all on your own. Within minutes, other officers begin to round the corner as they make their way back to the living quarters and you join the procession mutely, giving Maverick one last, wounded glance.

…

You’re on deck when Maverick and his crew prepare for takeoff as your own fighter is on standby alert. He watches you solemnly as you wish your fellow aviators a successful mission and, when he approaches you, his eyebrows lifted inward worriedly, you’re suddenly overwhelmed with anguish at the thought of losing him for good.

He holds out his hand to you, but you don’t take it. Instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, shutting your eyes tightly when you feel his hands close around your back. “Fly safe, Captain,” you mutter, and you feel his head move up and down in a nod against your neck. When your eyes flutter open, you notice that Cyclone – who’d been watching your interaction from the sidelines – has turned away with a sour expression.

It takes every ounce of your self-control to keep from kissing him as you pull away from the embrace. And, when you catch Maverick’s miserable expression, you gather that he’s fighting the same impulse. He squeezes your hand discreetly before backing away with a grim expression. “We’ll see you soon,” he assures you.

…

“Requesting clearance for takeoff, sir,” you say tensely, interrupting the chaotic feed in your headset.

“Denied,” you hear Cyclone’s rigid response.

“But, sir –” you start when Cyclone interjects.

“I said no, Lieutenant.”

You throw your head back into your seat in frustration. Your heart is hammering so insistently that you feel its pulse in the tips of every one of your fingers. You’ve been trained to keep your emotions in check when faced with stressful situations. You’ve been taught to manage anxiety and overcome fear. But this? No amount of simulation exercises could have possibly prepared you for an event like this.

Maverick’s plane has been shot down and Cyclone has made the difficult decision of leaving him behind, despite the very real chance that he may still be alive. Rationally speaking, you understand that going back for Maverick isn’t worth the unnecessary risk of additional casualties. But, as is to be expected in such unprecedented circumstances, you’re noticing a rapid deterioration of your own logical reasoning skills to the point where you contemplate ignoring orders, taxiing to the runway, and taking off without pre-flight checks. Just when you’re about to release the parking brake, however, the ground crew cuts your engine. You glance down to see them signaling for you to exit the aircraft. “Admiral Simpson, what is happening?” you ask in a panic. “Why were my engines shut off?”

“You’ve been grounded, Lieutenant,” is his response. “Please report to mission control.”

The thought that Cyclone might be omitting information about Maverick and taking you off the deck in order to share it in private is causing you to stagger as you climb out of the cockpit. You’re so nauseated that you feel like you might faint before reaching the ground.

You remove your helmet at a run, skirting the maintenance personnel on the flight deck to reach the first stairwell. You barrel down the stairs and through a passageway toward the center of the carrier. Then down another flight of stairs, and then another. It feels like a lifetime has passed before you finally reach the Combat Information Center.

“Is he okay?” you cry, bursting through the door.

Cyclone turns to look at you with barely concealed irritation. He doesn’t appear impressed with your conduct.

You clear your throat and salute your superior. Then, you try again. “Where is he, sir?”

Cyclone tightens his mouth sternly before looking back to the screen behind him. “We don’t know,” he responds.

“What?” you screech, forgetting protocol yet again. This time, however, Cyclone doesn’t even flinch at your tone. “Why am I here then?” you ask, adding, “Sir,” as an afterthought.

“You’re here because I’m not losing another pilot to insubordination,” he replies without so much as looking in your direction.

“Another pilot?”

Cyclone grimaces. “Maverick pulled a stunt.”

“A stunt, sir?”

“They missed the target,” Cyclone states. “Their time was up, I ordered them to return.”

Your heart sinks. “He went back.”

“He took it out,” Cyclone says with a hint of respect. “Just before he was shot down.”

There’s a somber stillness in the room which tells you that there isn’t a soul here that thinks Maverick could have survived. You feel yourself start to shake, the hope that you were clinging to extinguished as the words shot down begin to finally sink in. Meanwhile, you’re stranded in the depths of the carrier, watching helplessly as the tactical team continues strategizing with their commanding officer on how best to bring the rest of their pilots home.

You lean your back into the wall, trying to steady your breathing, not sure how you’re still standing at all. You notice Cyclone’s occasional glances in your direction but you pay him little attention; in fact, you’re doing a fine job of tuning everyone out, until someone’s surprised tone of voice peaks your interest.

“Sir.” One of the operators points at the radar screen. You and everybody else look up at the blip moving swiftly in the direction of the carrier.

“Is that…” Cyclone leans over the operator’s chair. “One of ours?”

“Comms are down, sir,” the operator responds. “But it’s a Hornet.”

"How the hell?" Cyclone straightens his back in awe. He looks over his shoulder at you with a mildly amused expression. “It’s his tail code,” he says, holding your gaze significantly.

Before he can say anything else, you’re out the door, hurtling back up the stairs. You’re blocked, however, by med crews as they flock to the flight deck. By the time you arrive, the crowd surrounding the returned aviator is so large that you can’t get through. But it doesn’t matter. Because he’s alive. Maverick is alive.

…

Half an hour later, you rush into the officer’s locker room to find a shirtless Maverick grabbing a t-shirt out of his locker. He whips his head around when he hears you enter and lowers his arms slowly as you approach.

He glances over your shoulder anxiously. “You shouldn’t be here,” he says.

Although this isn’t the greeting you had in mind, you gaze at him affectionately, nonetheless, still in shock that he’s made it back. That you were so close to losing him forever and yet, here he stands before you, alive and relatively unscathed.

“Y/N,” he warns as you draw nearer.

But you barely hear him. Or, rather, you ignore his words. Perhaps he’s been right all along about your reluctance to comply with authority.

Maverick opens his mouth as if to speak again but, the closer you get, the more powerless he appears in your presence. And before he can say anything else, you throw your arms around him, burying your face into his neck.

Immediately, he’s hugging you back. He holds you firmly, as though he knows just how much you need to feel him after the fear of never being able to touch him again. You collapse into his embrace entirely, until all your limbs are so weak, he’s practically holding you upright. You’re crying and kissing his neck, and his chest heaves as you fall apart in his arms. “Sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear before pressing a burning kiss on your cheekbone. “You can’t be here.”

You compress yourself against him, completely disregarding everything that followed the word Sweetheart. Maverick’s biceps contract as he hugs you even tighter than before, his rapid breaths washing over the top of your head. You lift your face to glance up at him from the snug embrace and he lowers his head to rest on yours. He closes his eyes when your hand starts to move softly down his bare, upper body. “Just a little longer,” you breathe.

He nods against your forehead, bringing a hand up to rest over yours on his chest. His fingers curl around yours and he lifts your hand up to his lips, kissing your fingertips gently. “I owe you an apology,” he says in an uneven tone.

Slowly and very reluctantly, you detach yourself from him. “No.” You shake your head. “You don’t.”

“Trust me,” he says, his gaze dropping. “I do.”

It’s the hard set of his jaw that makes you uneasy at first. And then, when he looks back up at you, the grief in his swimming eyes alarms you further. “What is it?” you ask, not entirely certain you can handle the answer.

Maverick exhales resolutely and turns away to grab his duffel bag out of the locker. The muscles in his back shift when he bends to set it down on the bench. “I applied for a transfer,” he says.

You stare at the back of his head, paralyzed. Confused. Feeling like you might be sick. “What?” you breathe. “Why?”

Maverick straightens out and gives you a somber look. “Because,” he says. “I’m letting my feelings for you cloud my judgement.”

“What are you talking about?” you exclaim. “You didn’t take me on the mission! Despite knowing that I’d get mad. You were right; I’m impulsive and unpredictable and –” you stop short when Maverick shakes his head.

“That’s not why I didn’t take you,” he says with a hint of regret in his tone.

You watch him drag a tired hand over his face. “It wasn’t because you don’t trust me?” you say quietly.

“No,” he admits. “It’s because I don’t trust myself.”

You furrow your eyebrows, wanting more than anything to know exactly what Maverick is thinking. What Maverick is feeling.

He meets your gaze hesitantly. “I couldn’t trust myself to prioritize the mission objective over your safety.” He shakes his head, letting out a tortured sigh. “I couldn’t do it,” he whispers desperately. He releases an uneven breath and shifts his jaw to keep it from trembling. “I can’t fly with you.”

You watch the man who so rarely demonstrates emotion crumble under the gravity of his own words. But the show is fleeting. Abruptly, he wipes his brow in frustration and presses his lips together tightly, squaring his shoulders after having dropped them in despair. You can tell that he’s made up his mind and, despite it being an obviously valid decision considering the situation, you’re hurt that he’s done so without consulting you. “So, you’re just leaving?” you say, stunned.

“I have to,” he responds, finally pulling his shirt over his head.

You stare at him as he packs up his uniform and puts his gear into the locker. You want to tell him that he can’t leave; he can’t because you can’t stand the idea of him leaving. But he’s already resumed his stoic expression, so you can’t possibly tell him that you’re in love with him now. “That’s some bullshit,” you comment resentfully.

He pulls his duffel bag over his shoulder and glances over your face as he straightens his posture. “Lieutenant,” he says. “You’re still not listening to me.”

You grit your teeth in anger. “Luckily, it won’t be a problem for very much longer,” you reply coolly.

He nods, then he steps over the bench to head for the door.

You glance after him, barely able to hold back your tears. “How could you?” you yell, no longer capable of keeping it together.

Maverick turns back in alarm. He drops his bag and, in two wide strides he’s standing right before you with a severe expression on his face. “Are you kidding me?” he hisses. “Why are you screaming?” He looks over his shoulder to ensure that the door is still closed.

You scoff. Of all things, he chooses to dwell on your momentary lapse in self-control. “Stop pretending like this means nothing to you,” you spit out angrily.

His eyes widen and his eyebrows converge. “That’s the impression you got from I can’t perform my duty if it means putting your life in danger?”

You open your mouth to say something, but his words have rendered you temporarily speechless. Finally, you remind him, “Putting my life on the line is my job.”

Maverick sets his jaw. “Precisely.”

“So, you’re going to run away because it’s a challenge?”

“It’s not just a challenge, Y/N,” he says. “It’s not possible. This was never going to work! Perhaps under different circumstances…” he sighs miserably. “We knew that!”

You let out a strangled breath. “I didn’t.”

His eyes search yours as though he can’t believe you haven’t come to the same conclusion. “Not only is it completely out of line for me to pursue a relationship with a lieutenant in my own squadron, but we also keep glossing over the fact that you are half my age! How could this have possibly gone anywhere?”

You feel the trembling of your bottom lip and bite into it forcefully, closing your eyes. “Please don’t go,” you whisper. “I… I –” I love you, is what you ought to say. But, instead, you utter, “I’ll stop disobeying orders.”

“That’s not what this is about” –

“I won’t question you,” you continue, opening your eyes. “I won’t seek you out. It’ll be just like before. A strictly professional relationship, nothing more. Just please don’t go.”

“It won’t change how I feel” –

“It will,” you assure him. “It will… in time. You’ll see. We can do this. You don’t have to go.”

Maverick watches you skeptically so you extend your hand to him to formally shake on it. His gaze sweeps over your features and the heartache is apparent in his eyes. “I can’t,” he says, but you can sense the hesitation in his words.

“You’re Maverick Mitchell,” you say, trying to sound casual while your heart hammers with dread. “Of course, you can.”

Maverick’s mouth twitches upward slightly, although his eyes still watch you sadly. Finally, he places his hand in yours. His grip isn’t nearly as firm as you’d expect; in fact, he’s barely touching you. “For the record,” he says, “I think this is a terrible idea.”

You let out a nervous chuckle when you glimpse the faint smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “How hard can it be, Captain?” you say lightly.

He glances at you pointedly, then responds cheekily, “It can be very hard, Lieutenant.”

Read Part 5

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[luvonmes-blog]

hey y’all… so ik i’ve disappeared for a while and dw i am gonna drop that stiles fic!! but i’ve re-entered my avatar phase and i have some head-cannons🤭🤭🤭

contains: all the Sully men, avatar!Jake, agedup!Neteyam, agedup!Lo’ak, smut, explicit descriptions of smut, me being horny for the Sully men😔 i have no shame

————————————————————————

Jake

i’m a firm believer that lo’ak and neteyam are so close in age BECAUSE jake was obviously a human right?? and before him and neytiri met she was just living the simple life and jake came along then BAM introduced her to new shit.

just imagine like you and jake are about to mate and since avatars mate for life he knows for a fact you’re a virgin and that just does something to him so he’s showing you new shit so he goes down on you and that opens the floodgates

his potty mouth definitely rubbed off on you

to me avatars low key look like cats (their noses!!) and act like them too and i feel like we’ve all agreed they purr but jake definitely takes that to a new level.

like he just lets himself go completely

like imagine he’s fucking you in missionary, head buried in your neck whispering all types of nasty shit you’ve never heard before (“fuck you’re so good for me” “so fuckin’ tight” “lettin me fuck you so good”) and he’s just purringg

vibrates through his whole body

we all know he whines but the first time he teaches you to ride him??? can’t help himself

like you’re trying your best, pace sporadic, movements jerky but you feel so good that it’s all he can do

holds onto your hips sucking on your boobs absolutely whining into your chest

first time he teaches you about giving head??

he can’t help but fuck your mouth

WHAT WAS HE SUPPOSED TO DO??? you looked so cute staring up at him all wide eyed he couldn’t help himself

it’s ok though he made it up, fucked you so good you couldn’t even walk straight (no seriously mo’at was concerned)

i wanna be fucked by jake sully so bad😔

Neteyam

this boy right here??? soft dom all the way

he couldn’t hurt a fly how tf could he do that to his partner????

grunts, not a whiner like his daddy but he doesn’t moan either

grunts and groans

PRAISE!!!

whether he’s praising you or you praising him he loves it sm

growing up with a father who’s a dream walker he’s definitely heard some shit about jakes life before he was an avatar

once heard his dad talking about something called “head” upon further investigation (asking norm) he had taken this amazing and i mean AMAZING idea to you

took you guys a while to figure it out but once you do???

has never nutted so fast in his entire life

like i mean he barely had time to register he was cumming just long thick ropes being pushed down your throat

play with his balls??? he’s a goner. lick them, suck them and if you pull just a little bit he’ll yelp🤭

wanna get your way?

sit him down in your shared hut, rub his shoulders get him real comfortable then put his dick in your mouth

he’ll agree to anything (his hands buried in your hair pulling just a little bit “yes! yes i’ll do it- anything- just please, please keep going”)

wanna fuck him so bad it hurts💔

Lo’ak

LIKE FATHER LIKE MF SON!!!

a whiner, beggar, moaner all the er’s

he’s so loud too omfg

when i say beggar i mean BEGS

like his life fucking depends on it. he can’t help himself (“please jus- please! i’ll do anything, please, please, please” drool coming out his mouth)

moans. long drawn out ones too. especially when he’s cumming can’t help it he just feels so good

was definitely there when teyam heard about the whole head thing. took it back to you too and somehow you just caught on so fast

shakes when you give him head. i mean tremors through his whole body whining about how good it feels

favorite position is cowgirl why you may ask? TITTIES!!!

boob guy all the way he loves them sm so when you’re riding him he gets to suck on them. his eyes def roll back

cums too fast. poor baby can’t help it. it just happens and he tries to warn you he tries so hard (“baby slow down please. i’m gonna- you’re gonna make me- fuck!” whines all the way through it)

his tip is so sensitive. you don’t even have to suck him off completely suck on his tip and he’s a goner

his ears too!!! bite his ear just a little bit when you’re riding him and he’s bucking up into you trying so hard not to cum.

dw even if he finishes too fast he never leaves you hanging

he figured if you can go down on him he can go down on you ofc there’s some differences but he learned and he learned well

is lo’ak my favorite? yes. do i wanna fuck him so bad? also yes.

[alpydk]

Words and Memories

Just some spite writing after my head cannon last night. I will not go into details, just my head didn't handle something well with it. Anyway, I have a unique perspective and voice. I won't let someone take that from me. I write for myself, that's all that matters.

Word Count - 1066 - Hurt/No comfort

Dearest Tav,

Gale scratched the words out. Solicallor… Another strike of the quill as it met the parchment, as the words seemed to catch with his own breath. He could feel the subtle tremor of his nerves, the orb soon to be in need of satiating, its darkness consuming everything within, from his magic to the very words he wished he could give her. Soon it would be over for him, though, and she would be left behind. She’d hurt, she’d grieve, but she would be alive, and that was all that mattered.

He watched as she slept on the bedroll, the way her white hair glowed the subtle gold of the candlelight. He reflected over the sunflowers he’d gazed upon earlier in the day, a fleeting dream that he could plant them alongside his tower and watch as they rose to the heavens, her smile the sunlight upon ambitious stems. Now those dreams were gone, grey clouds basking over those skies, the sunflowers doomed to wilt and rot.

His wrist ached with each marking of the quill, and yet he needed to be sure that all had been said that could be. I love you. That was all that really mattered, what lay deep in his heart, more powerful than any spell he could conjure upon his fingertips. Was there any rhyme or reason for the sleepless hours and torment he now placed his own body under or was this just regrets for how things had ended with Mystra, a desperate attempt to end things on his own terms?

----

My love,

Another letter imagined as he walked the road behind his group of friends, the words flowing in front of his sight as the breeze blew in his hair. It would make writing all the easier tonight as they slept shielded from the curse of the surrounding lands. He would claim he was keeping guard, as was his turn after so many nights he’d been unable to. The orb no longer attacked his body, and yet the guilt drained him instead now, knowing his fate was sealed.  

I love you. Would the words even be enough? Words he had wanted to say for so long to her. She’d glance at him, her lilac eyes full of the hope he believed he’d lost long ago. To touch her hand was to feel the warmth of the fire burning, to know that life existed in the darkened shadow of his existence. Life that would continue long after he was gone.

---

The battle had come and gone, but the letters continued to be written; for what right did he have to be alive? After all he had done, all the mistakes, a soul too burdened to fly, why did he deserve to live when so many others had not been so fortunate? …a more worthy love. That was what she deserved after all she had done for him, after all she had done for each whose path she had crossed. Butterfly wings fluttering upon the breeze, the ripples bringing change to so many; that was her blessing.

Solicallor: warm light of the sun, a dawn upon his conjured nights, an ever-burning star guiding travellers home. He would never see his home with her, never see the sunflowers bloom, or the docks under her bright gaze. He wished for her, though; the words flowing, unlike the tears he refused to shed. Instead of feeling sorry for himself, his only emotion would be hope for her. That she would find happiness after he was gone, that she would find a love more worthy.

---

1493

Gale had died, and time had meant little to Tav as she watched the night descend upon the tower once again. The stars shone, but none as brightly as he had. She’d watched as his projection had faded in her very arms, as her tears had smudged the ink of the letter handed to her, as sunflowers had bloomed and wilted in shadow.

It all felt so empty without him there, the silence now enough to drown her, his voice missing unlike that one magical night. The warmth of the study had gone, the bench on the balcony remaining vacated, a fear of disturbing it always in the back of her mind as she viewed it from a distance.

She was unsure why she stayed; there was nothing there for her. The others had tried to persuade her to leave, had wiped tears, and tried to lift spirits, but she clung on as if hope to bring him back was enough, as if denying his death would bring him back. The letter had not been enough, no number of words enough to fill the hole she had been left with, a darkness that consumed everything from within. He’d been her light, guiding her forward, leading her to be better, to be worthy of his love, and now he was gone.

Gone.

The bag fell to the floor with a thud, his pack one that she had dared not look in since his departure. She’d hung the weathered straps up next to one of his old cloaks, the smell of sandalwood, one she would bury her head in on darker nights. The smell lingered, the faintest hint of brandy that took her back to poetry filled evenings. There would be no more poetry. She approached the pack, its contents spilt onto the dark wooden floor, sheets of parchment and ink bleeding through the pages.

She gathered them up, little attention paid to the contents, a reflex to clean before damage was made permanent, before the blackened ink spread any further. Her fingers, her clothing, my love…

Letter upon letter, notes scribbled, I love you neatly penned a thousand times buried under devotion and prayer. Nights of script written for her eyes alone. Solicallor… His warmth drifting from unread words, his hope for her fluttering like butterfly wings, his love, something she wished she had been good enough for.

She sat on the study floor; the papers scattered around her. She wished words were enough to bring him back, that the letters could ease the pain, that sunflowers could reach the heavens and guide him back to her. But this was it; now he was nothing but the words in front of her, and it’s all he would ever be. Just tear stained words and lost memories.

[sanctuary1988]

~Handsome Stranger | 1 | Gwi

French: /the petals of love/

Pairing: Gwi x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth? After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.

Warnings: strangers to lovers? fluff, angst, minor injury, blood, this is a light chapter tbh. Mentions of marriage, talks about arranged marriage, age gap (huge), historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.3k words

A/N: Guys, I have fallen in love. In honour of my new obsession called Lee Soo Hyuk I'll write this story and hopefully many more! I'll warn you, this story will get darker as it progresses and will follow canon although it is settled before the series so the characters from The Scholar Who Walks The Night will not appear in this fic (apart from Gwi, obviously). This is some sort of a prequel so I hope you will enjoy it!

I'll update when I have time, dears. I just started my business and I'm also working part-time while also going to college at night so, yeah. I'll do my best so please let me know your thoughts! Happy reading everyone :)

Gwi looked at her with an intriguing gaze, eyes sharp under the candles' light.

"I would not hesitate to let someone as clever as you take the throne. You remind me of a woman I used to know. That woman was clever and ambitious like you."

Hye-Ryeong swallowed, testing the waters with her next question.

"Did you care for her?"

Gwi looked at the distance, as if his mind was transported back to his memories from centuries ago.

"I had feelings for her. I had never cared for a mortal woman before."

Some tension filled the cave, the flickering candles allowing soft light to illuminate the place.

"What happened to that woman?"

Asked Hye-Ryeong once more, wanting to know if there was only another small crumb of the vampire's past who sat in front of her.

"I killed her."

Was his answer, the words came tumbling from his lips without resistance at all but there was a heaviness in his voice that made a tremble travel down her spine. Gwi looked up at her, his eyes swarming with the memory of his distant love.

"I could not help it. She had my child without my knowledge."

Hye-Ryeong looked at the man before her, with almost sympathy in her gaze. Almost. The idea of him killing someone he loved made her stomach twist with emotions she wasn't quick enough to grasp.

"A child between a vampire and a human being is said to kill vampires."

His voice sounded deeper than usual, dripping with the disgrace of his actions.

"What happened to the child?"

She asked in an almost shy way, for a moment fearing what his reaction to such an inquiry would be.

"The child likely died since it occurred over 200 years ago."

Gwi looked down at the drawing he was making, the image of his love made memories he had long since buried in his mind resurface, opening scars and bleeding with poisonous remorse for what he had done to the only woman he had loved in his long life and who also loved him back.

200 years ago.

Darkness fell over the village, clouds covered the moon, not allowing any kind of light to illuminate the dark city. The royal palace was silent, as if it were desolate. No soul walked through the gardens, no oil was being burned. Everything was still. Everything swam in a dark sea.

Except for one soul who walked the royal grounds as if he owned it. In a way, he did. Gwi, was his name. A name that few knew but all to whose existence lived in their minds feared to no tremor.

He walked among the night. Watched over the village. His domain. His kingdom. For he had ruled over the most powerful man in Goryeo for years. Through generation over generation of royal princes. He ruled it all. He owned it all. He had it all to his reach, everything a human would ever want in their miserably short life he had conquered it.

He paraded through the still gardens, a soft yet cold breeze made his silky dark hair fly softly. A sigh escaped his lips, the full moon was approaching and that only meant he'd have to go hunt once more. Like every month.

Gwi halted in his steps when he smelled the sweetest aroma he had ever felt in his astonishingly long life. His feet walked with a mind of their own, going toward such sweetness he smelled through the air and made his eyes cloud with crimson desire.

Blood.

That was what he smelled. The substance that he needed, craved to live. Blood was life to humans, and it also meant life to vampires like himself. The smell got stronger, he felt his heart beat in his chest wildly in anticipation.

However, he had to stop himself before approaching the source of such an electable aroma. Gwi hid behind some bushes, his curiosity and intrigue getting the best of him as he watched a young woman crouched down on the ground, a finger between her lips as she sucked her own blood from her small injury.

You had left your room late at night in order to find some peace among the darkness. Your mind was troubled, so was your heart. You've had little time for yourself the last few months, leaving the night as your only free time of your day. As ironic as it sounded.

While walking the large palace grounds, you encountered a small hidden garden filled with beautiful roses. In the midst of your curiosity, you bent down and picked one, then another and another. Already thinking that you could put it in a nice vase back in your room when you returned. But a hiss escaped your lips as a thorn teared at your flesh and blood oozed out of the small wound.

You placed the rustic bouquet on the ground and sucked on the injury, trying to stop the bleeding. However, a sudden noise made you halt in your actions. You looked around, the little lamp you had brought with yourself did little to illuminate your surroundings.

You knew you shouldn't be out of your room alone, especially at night. The warning of your father was still fresh on your memory from the first time he caught you leaving the safety of your bedroom. With quick movements you grabbed your lamp and walked hastily back to your room, leaving the roses behind. Completely unaware of the vampire watching over your retreating figure as his eyes held curiosity for that beautiful woman with a delighting scent.

Days passed and he was still mesmerised by that woman he saw in the gardens the other night. Gwi sat on his throne, daytime illuminated the city yet he was forced to remain in his underground palace. A beautiful construction between the darkness. His own paradise.

The chief counselor was suddenly in his presence. The old man bowed down slowly at the vampire before greeting him with irony dripping from his words.

"My Lord, thank you for allowing me this audience with you. I am truly honoured to be in your presence."

Gwi sighed, already bored with this interview as he signalled him to start saying what he wanted to say.

"My Lord, you know everything that occurs in these palace walls. Every gossip and truth is delivered to you first."

"Get on with it."

The Chief Counselor gulped, his hands tangling in front of him to stop them from fidgeting before he spoke once more.

"As you may know, my daughter has been ready for marriage for years now but I would like your wise opinion, My Lord. She possesses an extraordinary beauty and I know her marriage would be beneficial to the council."

Now that picked Gwi's interest. He leaned forward on his throne, his eyes piercing as he looked directly to the Chief Counselor's intimidated eyes.

"Who do you have in mind, Counselor Lee?"

The old man lifted his head in an almost challenging way that Gwi didn't like at all.

"Kang Ju Won, My Lord."

Gwi hummed to himself, as if he were genuinely interested in this marriage. Perhaps a part of him was as Jun Won had been rebellious against Gwi's orders. Not enough to get him killed yet... but still something that the vampire despised with all his being for loyalty is the most important thing in the world, even more so than love.

"Your beautiful daughter shouldn't go to waste with an old man like him but I will not deny how advantageous that marriage will be for me. You can start the preparations for the wedding, Counselor Lee."

The latter bowed down, not being able to suppress the smile that stretched over his aged features.

"I will, My Lord. Thank you for giving your consent, your opinion is the only thing that matters to me."

Gwi looked at him with an emotionless gaze, his sharp features looking even sharper as the candles around him flickered ever so softly. He gestured for the counselor to leave and he did so silently. Leaving the vampire alone with his thoughts once more in his enormous underground palace.

He didn't know why he had left his palace that night. The full moon was tomorrow, his senses and instincts were sharper than ever but Gwi found himself walking through the gardens like a couple of days ago when he saw the mysterious woman of the roses and sweet scent.

A scent he hadn't been able to forget, in fact it had impregnated into his memories and something within him prompted him to search for her once more.

He halted in his steps when he heard a soft sound coming from around some bushes. Gwi turned around, curious as ever so as to know the source of the sniff-like sound. He rounded a corner and was met with the same woman from the other night. He looked at the way she was crouched in front of the same roses, her elegant dress puffing around her yet this time she was crying.

"A rose never cries, let alone at night."

You gasped at the sudden voice that spoke next to you. It startled you, causing you to fall from your crouching position directly into the ground. You looked up only to spot a tall and handsome man dressed in dark robes with pale skin and long, dark hair. His voice, deep as the ocean, made you shiver as you found yourself under his intense gaze.

"Who are you?"

The man before you tilted his head to the right ever so slightly, the motion made you gulp for some strange reason. He was astonishingly beautiful with a mysterious aura around him that told you to get away but at the same time pulled you to not take a step back and leave his presence.

"Why are you crying?"

He completely disregarded your question, not that you noticed as you were enthralled into his amazing looks and that voice of his... it made you tingle all over your body. It almost seemed as if he had hypnotised you. Perhaps he did. At the lack of your response he crouched down, taking in your features with his sharp and dark eyes that looked like he held a starless galaxy in his irises.

You sniffled, wiping the remaining tears from your cheek with the back of your hand as you broke eye contact with the handsome stranger, eyes setting on your lap as you spoke once more.

"My father is going to marry me off."

Gwi sat down, he didn't know why he did it. He didn't know why he was there, let alone why he engaged in conversation with the beautiful woman of the magnificent natural perfume.

"What a lucky man for he'll get a beautiful wife."

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at him, nearly gasping at the proximity.

"I don't want to get married. Not yet at least."

He lifted an eyebrow at your open statement, at your honesty despite you both being strangers. But something about that honesty stirred a part of him he didn't want to admit he had in the first place.

"Who is your father, petal?"

The rumbling of his voice was as deep as thunder. It made you swallow as you looked into his eyes.

"Lee Beom Seok."

Gwi had to hide the surprise from his face at the name that left your lips. So you were the counselor's daughter. Now it kind of made sense for your father to want to marry you off for you were, indeed, rather beautiful. No other mortal woman has ever been that mesmerising to the vampire before in his long life. That is until you came.

"Do you really wish for the marriage to be cancelled?"

He said in that thunderous voice of his you couldn't help but nod to answer him, not finding words to speak your own desire. Gwi sighed before he stood up while you watched his movements, elegant on its own.

"I can make that happen, petal."

You sniffled at his words. Your hands fidgeted with the ornament on your dress as you looked up at the handsome stranger who offered you a way out of the nightmare you were going to be forced to live in.

"I can stop your marriage from happening, that is if you come with me."

He extended his hand toward you, a silent invitation to take it. Take it and free yourself from this unwanted marriage but, what other chain going with him will put around your neck? You had learned the hard way that nothing is free in this cruel world and right now, you don't have much of a choice but to accept the last straw of hope given to you.

Your hand found home in his and Gwi pulled you up to your feet with a soft yet delicate motion. He wasn't going to admit it, let alone speak it out loud but... in a very deep part of his dead heart, he liked the feeling of your smaller hand in his large palm.

"You made the right choice, petal. Now tell me, what is your name?"

You felt how your heart quickened in your chest at the intensity in his dark eyes. You looked up and spoke in that voice he was starting to really like.

"Lee (y/n), My Lord."

Gwi smirked, pulling you to his side as he began walking back to his underground palace with your hand still clasped in his.

"From now on, you serve me, sweet petal. You are mine now."

January/28/2024

Drabbles are open!

~ Masterpost

[call-sign-shark]

Loose Cannon|| Arthur Shelby x Reader

Summary: The heatwave continues and you have an excellent --and illegal -- idea to refresh yourself... To Arthur's greatest despair. But let's be honest, your antics only make him fall harder for you || . Modern!Peaky AU Loose Cannon

Words: 4.2k

TW: language, mutual pinning, unresolved sexual tension, idiots in love, physical description of the MC, quick allusion to child abuse, no proofreading we die like John.

Notes: Each part is individual and can be read as one-shots in no particular order.

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” A painful moan escaped from your quivering lips, your voice rendered croaky by all the effort. If your heart could break free from your ribcage it would have done it already but yet he was, drumming and agonizing in a prison of bones.

“Shut up and take it.” A low growl underlined by a light tremor of fatigue replied to you, its owner wiping the sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand as he kept on moving increasingly faster. The cacophony of his pulse hammering in his temples almost covered your complaints but, unfortunately for him, it wasn’t enough, and still heard you scream at him. Arthur should have known that you wouldn’t be docile.

“You’re torturing me!! I’ll sue you, Arthur Shelby!” Forced to pause between each word, you tried your best not to faint well aware that the soldier had no pity for you. He would continue what he was doing whether minding your consciousness. Why would he while you were the one who asked for it? All you wanted was for him to stop and yet he remained criminally deaf to all your supplications, “I can’t… I can’t anymore.” Your voice cracked.

“You wanted to do this with me so now yer going to assume your choice. Faster ey.” He ordered through gritted teeth, and the gravel in his voice made you crumble from inside.

“ It— It hurts. My legs are fucking shaking! Please stop! St—” You were about to keep whining when all came to a quite brutal halt. Indeed, this confusing chaos ended up with your face suddenly bumping against the soldier's chest. “Aouch!” You exclaimed, pushing yourself from him and ready to excoriate the fucker. “Couldn't you fucking warn me, bastard” You brought your hand to your nose and rubbed the pain away, your furious eyes shooting him a murderous look.

“And can’t ye stop fookin’ complaining? I told you that each afternoon I go for a run with Hannibal. You’ve spent all the morning begging to come with me and now that you’re here, ye do nothing but whine like a fookin' kid.” As Arthur lashed out his frustration on you, his chest rose and fell quickly for his lungs had troubled to understand he wasn’t running anymore. And despite his erratic breathing he still found enough air to scold you. Usually, you wouldn’t have minded his explosive anger but a particularly harsh night of nightmares and insomnia had turned you a bit overemotional today. While holding a bit of truth, his words still vexed you which resulted in you fleeing his eyes and crossing your arms on your tight chest.

“You don’t understand.” You mumbled, nervously chewing the inside of your cheek as your brain processed with forming a kind of explanation to offer him.

“And now she's sulking!” Arthur roared and rolled his eyes, losing the remnant of patience he had left. “Yer a fookin’ pain in the ass, that’s what you are ay. Go home if ye too tired to keep running, but I ain’t gonna change me habits for you.” An arrow through the heart would have been less painful. Your lips parted, willing to speak, but not a single coherent thing came out. You stuttered a very brief while before definitely giving up and the only thing you knew: being insolent.

“That’s not what I asked for!” You exclaimed, fists closed tights and blood boiling in your veins. Obviously, the corrosive effects of anger didn’t help. “You’re a bloody idiot, that’s all you are ay!” If there was one thing positive about this whole scene it was your perfect imitation of him.

“So what the fook d’ya want?!” His hoarse voice resounded so loud in the park that a few passersby couldn’t help but glance at you with curiosity. Lacking proper words, you ended up stomping your feet and screaming with frustration, hands pulling your own hair. The noises, the images, the smells in your head… They were all too much. Caught in a whirlwind of panic and anger, you would have given everything to be able to calmly explain that all you wanted was to be with him and not alone with your twisted thoughts, bad memories, and the faint voices in your head. Then, you would have proceeded to tell him that the only moment your mind was quiet was when he was by your side, as hard as it was to admit it. If it had been the case, everything would have been easier but no, and you hated yourself even more for all of this. Come on Rat, say it, you thought.

I just want to be with you, Arthur. Because it feels good when I'm with you. I might want to murder you sometimes but your presence is comforting to me. Please, let me stay by your side and protect me from myself.

But words remained stuck in your throat and all of it was because of a deep-rooted and still open wound you carried with you every day of your life. From the day Uncle Jack entered and destroyed it the only way you could express yourself was with violent emotional outbursts and tantrums, your body and mind still not recovering from the pain he had inflicted on you. And here was the reason why you were in the middle of the park sulking at Arthur Shelby after he had scolded you like an unruly kid.

Woof. Between the two of you sat the soldier's huge malinois, wondering why his master had stopped running and why everyone looked so angry. Curious, Hannibal stared at him with his dark beady eyes reflecting the sunlight. Then, his focus shifted to you before letting out a louder bark. In the end, what caught his attention the most was the girl's utter sadness he could sense. That was why he walked to her and gently bumped her legs with his head.

“What?!” The soldier barked back, his steel-blue eyes diving into the dog’s chocolate-brown irises, quite not believing that his own K9 had turned against him. Hannibal finally sat by your side and barked at Arthur again, and his antics brought a pause in all this senseless chaos.

“Listen...” You started, your free hand nervously spinning one of your long blue braids, “I’m sorry,” You finally mumbled, losing your slim fingers — which were wrapped with multicolor bandaids — in the beast's fur. The softness of his hair under your flesh sends you a wave of comfort. “Fucker." You added, for you couldn't address him without at least calling him names.

“Yeah.” Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he wanted to stop his dawning headache — which was the case. At least you apologized and that was already a win. "Alright." He finally said with his thick Brummie accent, his muscles finally relaxing and the handsome features of his face softening, “Alright.” He repeated, running a hand in his scruffy beard as he looked for an idea to maybe make amend for how he had yelled at you in public. "I wasn’t feeling it today anyway. It's too bloody hot out 'here. Wanna get an ice cream instead?" He suggested, one brow raised. For once, you didn't need words to be understood for the way your eyes enlightened at the mention of the frozen treat had been more than enough for him to understand. Just like the sun coming after the storm, your lips curled in a faint smile.. A smile that made Arthur's anger vanish and his heart melt more than he was willing to admit.

Did you, two independent and tough adults, fight over ice cream's flavors? Absolutely yes.

"Pistachio and chocolate is THE banger."

"Suck my dick you unoriginal dumbass, lemon and raspberry is the best combo."

"No one fookin' likes lemon sorbet, dumb bitch. You're just being a weirdo."

"If I were you I would shut the fuck up right now because I'm about to smash my ice cream on your ugly face!"

"Oh yeah? Go ahead and I'll beat your fucking ass -- don't care if people see me, you bloody brat!"

It was the kind of heated conversation you had during the whole way home, to Hannibal's greatest despair. At one point, you even swore you had heard the dog sigh loudly, probably bored of your stupid fights. The beast had found hope when you almost tripped on your own feet and Arthur, with his sharp reflexes, had managed to grab you by the hand right before you hit the ground. With that little unfortunate event, he assessed that you were far too clumsy for your own good and that keeping your hands in his was the best way to avoid injury. The more minutes flew by, the more your fingers intertwined together. You finally reached home, reluctantly letting the soldier's large and calloused hand go. As he searched for his key, you simply stretched your body with your hands high and your body weight momentarily resting on your tiptoes, the intense temperatures of the heat waves had exhausted both of you.

"Arthur." You called him, something catching your attention nearby.

The soldier replied with an uninterested "hm" as he opened the door to let Hannibal rush inside before he finally looked at you from above a freckled shoulder. For a split second, he completely forgot that you were talking to him, far too hypnotized by the way sweat made your silky skin glow and how your bright blue braids danced in your back at each of your movements. Arthur couldn't lie to himself -- You were an otherworldly and unusual combination of beauty and chaos.

"Did you know that your neighbor owned such a big-ass pool?!" You exclaimed, your little fists on your hips and your broken-doll face adorned with an outraged pout.

"Hm, yes I did." He absentmindedly replied, too busy carefully observing your lean frame, which exuded a sense of boundless energy that perfectly matched with your vibrant and expressive powder-blue eyes, filled with a mischievous spark. From your grunge makeup and your colorful hair to your attractive body and the blue clouds tattooed along a whole arm, everything of you enticed him.

"Fucking cunt. It's a shame to have such a big swimming pool and not use it." You shook your head and pout, shifting your body weight on one leg more than on the other, hence making your seductive hips tilt. Arthur forced himself to look away -- it wouldn't be that hard if you weren't wearing the shortest shorts he had ever seen.

"Well, he's on vacation." He shrugged, "C'm'here Rat. I ain't your bloody door holder."

"Do you ever stop being grumpy?" You kicked a pebble with your combat boot in his direction.

"Do you ever stop being an annoying little shit?" His lips stretched in a carnivorous and teasing smile at your childish antics.

"Fuck you, Arthur." You retorted, laying a kiss on his jaw before disappearing inside the house.

Please do, he thought.

Just one night.

There was the exact wording he had used when you forced your presence in his bed two weeks ago, arguing that the only fan in the whole house was in this room. While your excuse could be believable, it didn’t explain why you ended up in his arms. So when you came back the night after and slipped under the thin sheet to snuggle up with him without uttering a single thing, Arthur told himself “Just another one”. But the heart was a strange creature and when it fell, it fell hard. Your surprising demonstration of affection was all it took for Arthur's mind to quickly forget about chasing you away, the idea gradually becoming unthinkable until he genuinely wondered how he managed to sleep without your presence next to him. From then an odd game of pretend settled between you and him: During the day you were fighting about the most ridiculous details, never missing a moment to get under the other’s skin, and yet, when the night came and the world turned silent, you found yourselves melting against each other, your lips brushing his neck to make him shiver and his nose buried in your vibrant hair to lured the demons of war away.

As Arthur woke up, his eyelids still heavy and his mind still foggy, he growled in dissatisfaction at the realization that you weren’t in his arms anymore. Maybe the heat had finally won, and his body temperature really kept you from sleeping? It was with this in mind that he stretched one arm, his hand patting the mattress. Not only he want to make sure you were still next to him, but he also already missed your touch. His fingers were met with empty sheets as they collided with the soft fabric. Blood immediately rushed through his entire body, adrenaline rattling against his every nerve just like it used to when his squad had to wake up to gunshots and bombs. For one second, Arthur couldn’t tell if he was in Birmingham or back to Iraq and somehow, he didn’t mind. Jumping from the bed and trying not to drown in his PTSD-induced paranoia, the soldier looked around him with haste, “Love?!” He called, rummaging through the room until the sight of the wide-open bedroom window made him freeze. After a few microseconds of complete panic, Arthur leaned over the window sill in a desperate attempt to see you and fortunately did. You were here, safe and sound in Small Heath. Far from death, maimed bodies, and agonizing soldiers. His shoulders dropped as he relaxed, watching you swimming in the neighbor’s pool. The information soon reached his brain: the neighbor’s pool? “Fuck me.” Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes at the thought of you trespassing the garden to take a midnight bath in his pool.

Unbelievable.

Wasting no more time, the soldier left the house without minding the fact he was wearing nothing more than his sweatpants. It wasn’t difficult for him to climb the fence and jump on the other side of it, right into the neighbor’s garden, considering how he had learned much more during his military training with the SAS. With both hands on his head, he roared “Are you fookin’ crazy?!” His steel blue eyes, whose color shone brighter under the glow of the pool’s lights, also noticed a familiar bottle in your hand, “Is it me or you’ve stolen me whisky? Jesus Christ, I’m going to drown you, you fucking disaster of a girl!” He looked so dramatic that you couldn’t help but giggle, his screams not impeding your little bathe. “LAUGHING AT ME FACE SHE IS!” This time Arthur, breathless with rage, was yelling so loud that the pale skin of his face had turned bright red.

"Sheeesh, calm down, you gonna pop an artery.” You swam closer to the edge of the pool, slightly lifting your body to cross your arms on the warm tiles. The way your two long blue braids danced behind you, waving like two water snakes, captivated his attention for a very short while. The soldier was about to retort something murderous when you cut him for a second time, “Why don’t you join me instead of making a fool of yourself eh? The house’s empty anyway.”

“You wish,” He exhaled slowly through the nose, his nostrils flaring as he tried to contain his boiling anger and not wake all the neighborhood up, “This ain’t fun, Rat. Get the fuck out of the pool right now.”

“Come and get me then.” You challenged him with a finger gun gesture.

“I don’t think you understand you stupid brat. Do you realize that what you’re doing is illegal?”

“Yeah.” You giggled.

“And that you could be in fookin’ trouble for it?”

“Yeaaaah!” You exclaimed, pale eyes shimmering with excitement and recklessness so childish it baffled the poor soldier. Taken aback by your behavior, Arthur blinked several time as he looked at you — Somehow he should have known that you weren’t going to obey him. After all, he could tell from your chapped lips and always bloody knees that you were everything but a nice little girl. No, you were an unhinged little shit and he liked it despite everything, “so? Do you really wanna catch me ‘cause I’m getting bored.”

“Okay, I’m done.” The soldier quickly took off his sweatpants to be in underwear and, with a nimbleness you didn’t suspect, dived into the pool. Engulfed by the water, Arthur had disappeared amidst the bluish light and the rippling tiles at the bottom of the pools. All you could see was a quick silhouette coming at you with what seemed to be the speed of a torpedo.

“Oh no, no, no!” Before you could do something, two large and calloused hands grabbed you by the hips and pulled you under the water, leaving you just the time time to take a deep inhale before getting swallowed by a chlorine tide. All your vision turned into a blur for a brief but intense second, chaos taking the form of confusing bubbles and foam until everything stopped. Reopening your eyes under the water, you found yourself transported in a parallel world in which a tranquil hush enveloped your senses. With each graceful stroke, you embraced the weightless sanctuary, finding solace in the quiet depths of the pool, where worries dissolved, and the rhythmic pulse of water echoed a soothing lullaby powerful enough to shut the insufferable screeching of both sickening memories and psychotic thoughts. Surprisingly enough, Arthur wasn’t there — or at least he wasn’t in sight. All you could see was an odd combination of bluish tiles and underwater spotlights that created a surprisingly serene and liminal landscape. It seemed like the cool water had the same calming effects upon the soldier, for when you turned around at the feeling of fingers gently brushing your ribs you were met with a playful smirk. Raising an eyebrow, you gently shove him before trying to escape several times but he inevitably caught you. A small bubble escaped from your lips as you tried not to laugh, amused by how Arthur made both of you slowly spin under the water, as a jolly sailor waltzing with her mermaid lover. With your bodies moving elegantly together, halfway between dancing and gently fighting, your fingers cupped his face. Despite the underwater hush, Arthur’s interrogation is visible through the way one of his eyebrows arched when he saw your face getting dangerously closer to his. Closer. Closer. Until your mouth finally crashed against his. Arthur’s eyes widened in shock, pupils suddenly dilating under the effect of adrenaline when the warmth of your mouth found his. The peck was brief, so brief he wondered if he hadn’t hallucinated it but it was enough for him to lose control of everything. His body softened, letting you a short moment to break free from his playful embrace. Offering a last wink, you trashed your legs to come back to the surface and took a deep inhale. As the warm air of the night filled your lungs, a strange state of calmness possessed you a with it followed a genuinely amused giggle at the remembering of Arthur’s surprised expression. The man broke from underwater a few seconds after you, quickly sliding his hair back with his hands before swimming to you, eyebrows knitted together and lips sewn tight in a thin line.

“What did ya do?” He rasped, his steady breathing rendered irregular for his heart raced in his chest. The taste of your sweet yet damaged lips was still tingling on his skin.

“What are you talking about?” You pouted even though you didn’t make a peculiar effort to hide your amusement. “Hey!” The complaint fell from your mouth when his strong arms wrapped around your waist to press your body against his. A wave of fire spread through your being.

“Do it again.” Arthur could barely believe he just said that and yet he did and now that it was too late, he decided to go for it and see what would happen. Taking advantage of your surprise, he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing the soft skin sprinkled with tiny droplets of water similar to translucent pearls engraved in your flesh. A delightful thrill crossed through your body as his beard scratched your skin -- A thrill that soon turned into a wave of heat that made you feel feverish.

“Do what?” Your fierce and loud voice was merely a whisper as your cheeks flushed red, as red as the blood simmering in your veins. You might have been slightly confused by the situation but your bandaged fingers seemed to know what to do when they lost themselves in his wet hair to slick it back with a tenderness you never knew you possessed.

“Kiss me.” The low rumble made your own soul quake. Punctuating his sentence with actions, the soldier's face left your neck to lean his forehead against yours. In this whirlwind of emotions and arousal, you batted your eyelashes while drowning in the dark blue of his eyes and wondered if they had always been this charming. What happened next none of you could tell for any thoughts left disappeared. Mouths grazed each other, the two of them timidly discovering the shape and details without daring to break the few inches remaining. Soft lips against chapped ones, and against all expectations the rougher pair was yours. How could such an unsufferable and brutal little minx like you feel so fragile in his scarred hands? A frail moan escaped from your mouth at the blissful sensation of the soldier's hips moving with yours at the water’s discretion and, for once, you weren't ashamed of it. With your underwear fabric sticking to your skin and bodies closely interlocked, you could both feel every intimate detail and shape, gently and sensually grinding against each other due to the flow... Or maybe the flow wasn't the cause and you were both actively asking for more, who knew? Arthur growled again, for even in the cold water of the pool the warmth between your legs made him weak and far too aware that you yearned for him.

"No, you kiss me first you coward." You tried to sound mean but your voice could produce nothing but an enamored tone.

"Ah, shut up Rat." Arthur softly bit your lower lip, trapping the juicy flesh between his teeth and pulling it a little bit. The taste of anticipation lingered in the air, mingling with the heady scent of perfume, chlorine, and the warmth of intertwined breaths.

"Go on then, shut me up..." And your wish became his command. His warm tongue gave a faint lick on your lower lips just to taste the water, almost too shyly for the man he was. Then a second one and a third, and as he did he kept his hands busy by slipping them under your panties. His large palms conquered your buttcheeks and then pressed on your flesh to bring your core closer to his until you could clearly feel how enthusiastic he was to have you so close. In reply, your fingers hung at the hem of his boxer, slightly pulling them down to disclose his V-line. In the secluded haven of the dimly lit swimming pool, the water's gentle caress enveloped both of you as you shared this moment suspended in time. Arthur's patience finally reached its limits and pressed his lips against yours for another chlorine kiss you were both eager to deepen. A kiss that felt like a car crash and still sounded like water lapping and the rhythmic beat of hearts. It could have been perfect if Arthur hadn't back up suddenly, eyes wide open at the sight of a car's headlight in the house's alley.

“Out of the pool, now!” He exclaimed, hauling himself from the water quickly to grab the bottle of whisky, then his pants before seizing your wrist to lift you from the pool.

"HOLY SHIT!" Adrenaline rushed through your body, momentarily shutting down everything except your flight instinct. That was how you both ended up dashing across the garden half-naked and completely soaked up. Fortunately enough, you both managed to climb the fence and lock yourselves into the house, banging the door so close that poor Hannibal jumped from the sofa and barked. Time stopped for a while, the two of you with your back leaning against the door and trying to catch your erratic breath, bodies dripping with water. A heavy silence floated in the corridor, only broken by the sound of your own heart drumming in your ears. And then, you heard it... It started with a little nervous giggle and then it became a loud and gravelly laughter. Despite the whole panic, you were soon infected by a fit of hilarity too, your aching heart drowning in a feeling you hadn't experienced in a long time: joy in its purest and most innocent form.

♠️ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

♠️ Tag list: @cljordan-imperium @1nterstellarcha0s @raincoffeeandfandoms @babaohhhriley @zablife

[castrianamore]

You Can’t Teach an Old God New Tricks

DC x DP Crossover

TW: Cannon-Typical violence+ some stuff, panic attacks, terrorist-like attack, Injury

Prologue

What was he doing? Really. Tonight felt off.

There was an eeriness to the air even more so than usual. Tim didn’t know how to take Gotham somehow feeling worse than usual. It was his solo night which was normally nice unless the night was young and then silence set upon Gotham.

“Anyone else not getting good vibes?” Tim’s voice broke the silence into the group coms. Tim could hear Jason finishing beating the shit out of someone. Just slightly labored breath.

“I’ve been riding around and only seen one instance of trouble. Either Gotham’s in a good mood or…” 

“Something worse is going to happen.” Dick finished for him. Nightwing or rather Dick was working on his investigation tonight. Tim knew that much and had been trying to let him help. He was a pretty good detective he could say so himself. 

“What do you think Batman?”

“I don’t know but something is always up in this city. It’s another night. We won’t let anything else happen to it anyways.” 

“Fair fair, oh hey! I see you Babybird!!!” Tim perked up looking around and seeing Nightwing obnoxiously waving from a rather large distance. If it weren’t for his special lenses in his mask he definitely would not have seen the man. 

“Oh? Yeah, I have something for you by the way,”Tim reached into his pocket before pretending to grab something and flipping him off with a smirk. 

“Wow real mature, Red!” 

“Thanks Hood’s been teaching me.” 

“Of course he did, see you on the flip side RR.” 

And Nightwing dropped from the building presumably running off to go work on something else. 

“What did you do that i taught you?”Jason replied a little delayed but still there. “I said stay down you mother fuck—“

“HAHA You have to put money in the swear jar!” Tim teased the elder man. 

“Careful Replacement. But what did I teach you that Night wing is being pissy about?”

“Oh I flipped him off.” 

“But we both flip him off all the time I don’t?” Jason sounded mildly confused.

“I pretended I was showing him something.” 

“Okay that makes sense now.” A small grunt of reply from Tim. He sighs and moves across the building hopping to the next and the next. However…

As Tim jumped to the next a building exploded throwing him into a building’s wall and down into an alley way. His back hitting the hard industrial trash can before making contact with the alleyway floor. 

His world was spinning. He was sure he had a concussion. Had to have one with how hard he had been thrown. He was vaguely there for a moment as he collected himself hearing a brief conversation over the coms. 

That wall had hurt he was floating between consciousness and being a goner. He guessed he blacked out because when he woke up it was hard to breath. 

 His own breathing was heavy and the air was thick with smoke. Where was his air filter? He patted his suit getting up. Fuck! He had to have forgotten it in the batcave. How could he forget it in the batcave. 

 An echoing evil laugh sent a shiver down Tim’s spine. What the fuck was he doing. He moved his hand to his ear as he peaked around the corner of the building to see what was going on. Flames lit the night sky up in a beautiful orange hue but the Smokey fog made things hard to see. He touched his forehead feeling blood and wiped it away for a moment. No use worrying about it now it would have to be treated later 

 Fuck it was hard to breath. 

 A large ominous figure floated above the city of Gotham. A flame covered crown floating above his head. 

This was supposed to have been a normal night of patrols. His shift. Red Robin’s shift. Nightwing had his own investigations to run and Batman was requested at Arkham asylum for a moment by one of the members of the staff. Tim didn’t really care much in that aspect. 

 But tonight wasn’t supposed to bring trouble. No one had expected the explosions. The earthquakes and tremors through the Earth’s rock and crust as the concrete cracked and broke and a few buildings exploded. 

A silent pressure falling over the city so quickly to  lift to the flames. The city that seemingly reached towards the welcoming embers. The screams echoing in his ears as Rubble had scattered around him as the first explosions had gone off and a figure appeared.

 “You guys seeing this?” Tim whispered into the coms.

 “How could we not? It’s only at least as tall as most buildings around Gotham and FLOATING,”Dick whisper yelled. 

 “Scarred Dickie-bird?”

 “Shut up Little wing.” 

 “Does anyone have visual on our target?” Batman’s voice silenced the trio of brothers. “And does anyone have contact with Robin? He’s not showing up on coms?” 

 “Robin? No. I haven’t seen him since we finished our rounds last night.” Tim looked around him grappling to the top of the building to look around and try and get a good look on the person responsible for this. 

Definitely not human. Could they be Martian? No they tended to stay around the same size as humans and their natural forms. Who was this? 

The wind blew the smoke out of the way. A little as he ran from roof top to roof top a cloth over his mouth as he had one thing in mind. Get higher. He had to get higher. Out of the smoke. Out of the flames. See who he needed to fight. 

A cry came over the coms. “Out of commission guys.” 

“Nightwing!” Tim’s panicked voice rose as he stopped in his tracks as he lands on the next building eyes going from the ground to the sky. 

“Broken ankle and probably crushed my tibia on my left side,”his voice sounded strained. 

“What happened?” The stern voice of a concerned father slipped through Batman’s voice ready to tell the kids where to meet to help him.

“Got a few civilians out of a collapsing building but it collapsed and I didn’t get completely out of the way in time.” A deep breath of Nightwings familiar techniques to keep himself conscious and working. He’d definitely been through worse but if he was pinned? That was another question entirely. 

“Nightwing, Can you move?”

“Afraid not. This is a solid piece of wood on my leg Babybird.” 

“Hood you’re the closest can you get to him?” 

“Already on my way.” 

“Good.”

“I am so not whelmed right now.”

“RR?”

“Yeah?” 

“Do you have a better visual? I’m on my way back from Arkham.” 

“I do…” 

Tim’s eyes widened as he stared up at the figure. Midnight black armor with the flaming crown he could see through the smoke. Cape whipping in the wind as the man gave out a dark a chuckle. 

“And you think you Can stop me?” 

There was something—no someone in front of him. 

A weak cough came from the coms.

“This is Robin to the bats.” 

“ROBIN!” All of the bats in synchronized concern at hearing the youngest voice even if it was weak.

“Report, where are you? Now.” 

“Bat cave.” 

“But your readers aren’t..?”

“I was outside and had to bolt. I dropped it.”  

“You’re lying.” 

Tim could read Damian like a book. It wasn’t intentional but while the kid was a skilled assassin it didn’t change the fact he had awful people kills and even worse cover stories at times. Quick to anger. Quick to prove wrong too, sometimes.

“Shut up Red.” 

“Now is not the time to be playing games Robin. Are you hurt?” 

“I was taking down a gambling den and the building collapsed on top of us….” 

Silence fell over the group. Robin was trapped under a building with criminals. 

“Robin answer the question, are you hurt?” It was Jason this time. The faint sounds of win whipping past and a familiar hum of his motorcycle. Dammit his own motorcycle was probably gone once again. This time more than likely destroyed due to the debris and explosions. Jason was probably on his way to Dick’s location. 

“Yes.”

“How badly?” Tim couldn’t help the mild panic in his voice. Damian would be okay, he knew that but his brotherly instinct kicked in for the youngest Robin. He wanted to protect Damian. As much of a nuisance and trouble maker the child was he was still family. His family.

“I think my right arm got dislocated but I popped it back into place. My left wrist I think is fractured. Definitely a broken rib or two.” His shallow breathing and tremors were concerning. 

“Anything else?” 

“I don’t know how much air I’ll have down here. I don’t think anyone else made it, I’m small so that should buy me time and if I can get my breathing under control until rescue services arrive I might be able fo last.” 

Robin was trapped under a building with little air to breath and several broken bones and possible fractures.

No one wanted to breath as it dawned on them how serious this entire situation was. However, before anyone could say another word into the communication devices they were cut off. 

“Citizens of the Mortal plane!”

Not that anyone would talk now.

“Red! All I’m picking up is static from your end? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know… the figure it’s talking!” Tim looked up in horror as the smile across the figured face grew and grew with ever sharper teeth and eyes that seemed to be focused exclusively on you and only you. He couldn’t move? Of course he couldn’t move that creature. That thing was terrifying.

“I am here to take control of this existence and your wretched short lives will serve me well. You may call me, Pariah Dark. The Ghost King. The king of the Infinite Realms! You’re new overlord, or your new butcher!” 

“Red how close are you?” Jason’s voice. “Red how close are you to that THING?!?!” 

“Red!”

“RED ROBIN ANSWER US!!!” Tim wasn’t sure if he could. It felt like his bones had turned to mush and his eyes were focused and trapped on the one thing. He couldn’t move. 

The longer the being talked the more static filled his ears as the radios and comms were filled with noice and a high pitched sharp sound caught him off guard as he desperately clawed out the coms throwing it out of his ear in pain. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

He could feel the ringing in his ears and the blood trickling down his cheeks as he slowly reached up to touch it. Did his comms just bust his ear drum? He looked around again. His hearing was dulled. It had definitely busted his ear drum. 

“You will bow down to me or you will pay a severe price!” 

A loud explosion called the man, Pariah Dark, to look in that direction. In a glowing mass of green was another figure. Much smaller but if Tim hadn’t known any better he would say easily more powerful than the so called King of Infinite Realms. But what the fuck was that? How did his coms glitch out so severely to hurt him? 

He stood up wearily trying to get closer to the duo. In his head he could hear Nightwing and Jason screaming for him to stay where he was until they could get backup, but Tim knew backup wasn’t coming.

Ghosts were real. The dead could walk amongst the living and haunt people. Had they messed up so badly as humanity that the dead had to come back and teach them a lesson? Was this a chance? A coincidence? He prayed not, but one thing was for sure about this ghost. About this situation he found himself in. 

The king stood right in front of him and they needed intel. He had to overhear what was happening to help his family because…

Dick was severely injured.

Damian was trapped and injured 

Bruce was too far away. 

Jason had to help Dick or Damian. 

His electronics were no longer working. No coms. No tracking. No maps. Nothing. 

The only one left to get anything useful was himself, and he swore he would do that. The smoke blowing in front of him gave him trouble seeing the figure floating in front of Pariah. The size of a normal human being but was obviously far from normal.

White hair glowing bright and just slightly floating around him. The faint Green light he gave off with the aura of Superman if not far more powerful. Tim didn’t even realize his hands were shaking. The figures arms were crossed and despite being in the presence of someone so powerful the figure seemed relaxed.

Tim placed a hand to his wrist checking his pulse. It was highly elevated was he… was he scared. Yes. He was, but as the figure opened his mouth to speak that fear changed to terror. 

An unearthly wail of immeasurable incomprehension filled his ears. These were words, but his mind could not process the language, the pronunciation. Part of him felt as if he knew exactly what the man was saying. The words harsh and strangely familiar. The sounds caused Tim to cover his ears, even if already dulled from having lost one ear drum for the moment. It would not stop the true paralysis of fear in his bones. 

He couldn’t breath. Fuck. No. Take in a breath dammit.

Breath Tim! The smoke choked his lungs and his panic attack began to set into his veins which didn’t help his case. 

He shook. Knees on the gravel roof hands over his ears. Tears slipping from his eyes catching on his mask, before rolling down his cheek. 

Did this make him a coward?

He was petrified. How could they fight something like that? It was far too strong to be human, to be a ghost even. Too … too what?

No, what stood in front of them with a catch of a gleaming smile of razor sharp teeth and glowing green eyes, had to have been a god. The power. The fear.

Tim didn’t know what happened next. 

He just knew he blacked out and woke up struggling to breath in Jason’s arms eyes wide as he clutched his brother desperately. Jason kept his grip on him tight.

“Is-is it gone. Is that THING gone?!?!!” 

Jason have him a small shush holding him still in Tim’s bedroom. “Tim, it’s been a week since that creature was defeated. Take a deep breath. “ 

What.

Slowly he looked up at Jason. The tired eyes and a stitched together cut on his forehead telling him that yes. Time had passed. He had been asleep. It was the only thing that made sense.

“Is Damian? Is Dick are they? Are they okay!!?! I need to see them! I need to make sure that they’re.” 

The feral attempt to get out of his brother’s arms in a frenzy of panic and anger and confusion and worry only had his brother’s arms growing tighter around him. 

“Tim. Tim. Tim .” Jason’s stern voice shook the younger one for a moment though he should have been far more used to it than he had been. “They’re safe. You’re safe. Anyone who was within the immediate hearing range of that fight have been recorded with onset anxiety, panic attacks. Seizure’s, etc. Some jumped off roofs, out windows to escape whatever it was..” 

“Am I okay?” 

Tim knew he probably looked broken. Hands slipping past his brother’s arms to cover his ears as his mind began to properly take in what had happened. He had passed out from the overwhelming panic and inability to breath on that roof. Jason had said people had been terrified. Rightfully so. That creature was the stuff of nightmares. Anything who had to go toe to toe with them should be fearful. Jason explained a bit more but Tim was already too far gone again staring down at the blankets his heart monitor beeping away next to him.

His heart began to pick up slowly. Jason’s hand on his arm as his eyes grew wide again. He knew what it meant now.

“What did… what did that do to me? What did It do to them?” 

Jason looked at him extremely concerned.

“Tim, what do you mean? What happened to you?”

What that creature had said, and he had no idea how he knew this considering all recordings of the event merely ended up as static from his broken electronics, more than likely. Right as he saw Damian enter the room in several casts. He glanced up at him his eyes glazing over once more. 


“I am Phantom, and I will destroy you for touching what is mine, you will be the King of Nothing when I am finished with you.” 

Tim didn’t remember much else after that. Merely Jason and Damian having to call for Alfred. Tim was told later that week that he had been in an out of seizure fits for a while. For another week. He had never had seizures in his life but now? That event had changed his brain.

It was another month and a half before Bruce let him back out on duty. And still another 3 before he was allowed to solo.

Tim occasionally could feel the seizure’s coming on but only rarely, But the days went on and years passed. 

Tim never forgot those words. He prayed that remembering that fearful night would never amount to anything.

Original Post and ao3 links:

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

"Magnus. Magnus, my son." The tyrant of a thousand systems spoke with a tremor, a quake in the voice that had commanded death for billions without faltering. "Tell me- though I know it cannot be otherwise- tell me, please, that you did not hit that they/them þussy."

Magnus looked at his father, lone crimson eye betraying half sorrow and half disdain, his mane of hair only given further leonin appearance from the they/them energy yet whirling around him as he stood in the ruins of the portal. "You knew," he rasped in shock. "You knew how different it hit. And you hid it. You silenced my rizz, you ordered me like a mere pupil to restrain myself- did you think me weak, father? You held me back from this. Every Celeste player across the galaxy could have been ours-"

"I did not think you weak!", the Emperor roared. The golden guardians behind him flinched. He set his jaw and fixed a burning gaze on Magnus. "I did not fear you would be weak, Magnus, I feared that you would be strong. And was not my fear well-founded? You succumbed."

"Actually, I think they succ-cu-" The Custodian was silenced mid-speech by a mutual glare from the Emperor and the Cyclops.

"You could not hold yourself back! You do not know what has begun, Magnus. Fallout: New Vegas. Bloodborne. Those will be but the harbingers. Ultrakill follows in their wake. Had you been weak this would not have come upon us, but..." The Emperor stepped backwards, as though staggered by a blow.

"I made you strong, my son. Too strong. Too wise, perhaps."

"You'd rather an ignoramus brute? Another Russ?" growled Magnus. His lone eye shone with the dreadful, lethal radiance of a charging plasma cannon.

"I have lived as one too wise in many ages, my son. And it is never a burden worth bearing. You have fallen under its weight, I fear. There is no path of return from the they/them þussy, Magnus. You do not wonder that even I dared not hit it?"

His psykic image began to dissolve, turned into ash and crumpled Monster cans, but Magnus spoke just once more: "Is it no path of return, Father? Or no reason to, once you know the truth of railing it?"

I feel like this has simultaneously done me severe brain damage and opened up new information processing channels I never knew I had

[acatalystrising]

I have finally finished chapter six of Moth to a Flame! This chapter was a blast to write, and I’m not done with the story yet, but I certainly do hope you enjoy this next installment! I was inspired by a certain fun scene in Mando season two for this one, but with a different context… This one is more intense, so please mind the trigger warnings. Happy reading!

TW: panic attack/triggers, mention of past abuse/injury, interaction with former abuser, mentions of past sexual abuse/gaslighting, cannon violence, side character death, blood, injury, angst and hurt comfort

Moth to a Flame Chapter Six

Darkness surrounded you like an ocean of ink, black and cold, searing into your ragged lungs like hellfire. Desperate for oxygen, you clawed toward the surface, finding not water, but sand cascading between your scrabbling fingers.

You burst to the surface, chest burning, eyes wide, as you found yourself in the Dune Sea, burning sands raging like an ocean, the dunes crashing toward you, backlit by the twin suns that watched impassively above as nature itself rushed to deliver your doom…

Your eyes snapped open, and the first thing you noticed was that you were cold. Far too cold for a desert planet like Tatooine.

You were lying prone on what you surmised to be a cot, and you didn’t have to look at your hands to know they were clasped in binders. Kriff. The feeling of the metal against your skin sent tremors of terror washing through you, heart pounding so loud you worried it would burst.

Not again. Please no. Not him. I gotta get out, gotta get free, I can’t die like this!

The panic was sudden and unyielding, exploding in your brain and numbing your extremities. You tried to breathe, but your throat felt clamped in a vice, threatening to reduce the world around you to a dizzying blur. You took heaving breaths, desperate to wrestle your fear under control, hoping the tools you’d learned over the years would pay off now. You couldn’t lose your head. You’d need logic to make it out of this alive.

You ran a hand down the back of your neck, fingertips hesitating at the shallow grooves you knew were your scars. Stars, you’d wanted to forget them. Ignore it all. Disappear into the Outer Rim and never look back. But it seemed your past had finally come back to haunt you. Literally.

The compact room you were held in was dark and indiscernible, but your eyes were keen enough to notice one important feature, one that sent horror flooding through your chest. Grey, lifeless, durasteel walls. And that only meant one thing…

“Well, well. It was about time you woke up.”

You knew that voice. Hated that you instinctually stiffened. Loathed the paralyzing fear that threaded down your spine and locked you in place. It was a voice you thought you’d never hear again. A monster, back from the dead.

That monster stepped out of the shadows, sharp blue eyes locking you in place, scarred lip twisted in a victorious smirk. But you felt the scorn beneath the facade.

“You’re probably wondering how I survived.” He folded his hands behind his back, hands that you remembered. Instruments of pain and pleasure. Maker, why couldn’t he have stayed dead? “Surely you’re at least curious.”

You opted to remain silent, refusing to play his game despite the panic that welled in your chest, threatening to burst. You were curious about his fate - especially after everything you’d done to stop him. How the hell had he emerged unscathed?

“The silent treatment won’t work.” He raised a thin brow, lips twisting in a knowing grin. “I remember a time when you’d have come to me for anything. How many times did I hold you? Comfort you? All for your to stab me in the back.”

“That’s enough, Sterling.” Your words snapped from your lips like daggers, eyes narrowing at the figure before you. “You don’t get you talk like that. You betrayed me. I did what I had to do.”

“That’s Admiral Sterling to you.” His eyes narrowed, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Is that what you tell yourself? Pathetic.”

You mustered the courage to narrow your eyes in challenge.

“Why am I here?” You crossed your arms with a shrug. “You could’ve just killed me to take your revenge.”

“Kill you? Oh goodness no, you’re underestimating me again, I’m afraid. I’m not going to kill you. You were difficult to find, I’ll give you that. It took me much longer than I’d hoped.” Sterling crossed his arms, tone darkening, brows lowering in a glare. “The Empire is scattered across the galaxy, in shambles. And you’re going to help me rebuild it.”

“Why the kriff would I do that?” You narrowed your eyes, hoping you masked the tremor of fear that slid down your spine. “I nearly gave my life to the rebellion. You think I’d do anything for your empire other than burn it to ash?”

Sterling’s eyes darkened, but his thin lips curved in an eerie smile.

“Oh my dear, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” He approached and you flinched as he rested a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve already taken so much from you. But, let’s see…you do have a lovely menagerie on that desolate rock. Friends, I’m sure, who you want to keep alive. Maybe you’ve pulled together a family of sorts? It’d be a shame to have them all reduced to dust.”

Oh. Oh no. Damn it.

No. This couldn’t be happening.

I’ve been a fool.

You clenched your bound fists until your knuckles ached, the horrid metal pressing uncomfortably against your skin.

“You’re a monster.” When you finally spoke, your words emitted as a hiss, full of venom and rage.

Sterling only smiled.

“Your rebel friends said the same thing when I turned on them, you know.” He shook his head with a sigh, pulling away from you. “A small price to pay for the good of the Empire. And unless you want to add more scars to your collection, you’d best do as I say. You’re a brilliant scientist, you know. You shouldn’t let all that raw talent go to waste.”

Kriff. You bit the inside of your cheek and tasted blood on your tongue. He had to know you’d never stop fighting him. But what the kriff could you do, bound and facing the threat of the deaths of everyone you loved? For now, you opted to go for the best course of action - to wait. Be patient. And figure a way out of this mess.

Because he was right about one thing - you did have talent. And you’d use every bit of it to escape.

“Fine.” You locked eyes with him, glaring daggers that you wish could burn into his skull. “Under one condition. Leave them alone.”

“That’s more like it.” Sterling’s smile grew into a vile, victorious grin. “Now there’s a good girl.”

“Don’t call me that.” Your snarl wasn’t hidden this time, eyes flashing with rage.

“Cooperate,” his grin vanished, replaced with a sneer, “and I’ll consider letting your friends live.”

He walked out of the room without another word, and as the doors whooshed shut, you dropped your head to your chest, unable to stop the sobs from erupting from your throat, echoing on the empty, foreboding walls.

You were alone, yet again. And this time, there were no rebel friends to save you. They were long dead, and you wagered you’d soon be following them.

-

“There it is, boss. Looks Imperial.”

Fennec shifted in the copilot’s seat to sling her rifle against her shoulder, lips twisted in a distasteful frown.

“What the hell would an Imp straggler want with your girl?”

Your girl.

Boba Fett blinked, gaze still locked on the small shuttle ahead, cruising in Tattoine’s orbit. He hated the panic that had taken residence in his chest, threatening to claw up this throat. This was precisely why he never had entertained the notion of a lover - not when everyone around him ultimately got hurt or killed…or worse. And yet here he was anyway, trying to stop the same thing from happening to the one person who had become the exception to his rule.

“Well? What’s the plan? At least the bastards were easy enough to track down.” Fennec’s voice jarred him from his thoughts, and he grunted, glancing at her over his shoulder, grateful for the helmet that masked his distraught expression. “Probably good to stay out of their sights for now. Are we sneaking in or-”

“I’m commandeering that vessel.” Boba’s voice was cold, nearly a growl. “If they don’t cooperate, they will regret it. We will find her.”

Fennec’s brows lifted, and she crossed her arms with a sigh. “Sure that’s a good idea? These Imps are flighty. The minute they’re under attack, they’ll jump to hyperspace.”

Boba watched the ship with narrowed eyes, clenching his gloved hands to fists.

“I’ve caught bigger prey. Besides, we have the advantage,” he punched in some coordinates and launched into hyperspace, already preparing the return sequence. “They don’t know we’re coming.”

-

“I didn’t want things to go this way, you know.”

You narrowed your eyes as Kali walked beside you, nervously wringing her hands. She shot a nearly apologetic glance at you before quickly looking away, eyes fixed straight ahead. When she spoke again, her voice was much softer.

“I tried to warn you. But I couldn’t just tell you that I…”

“That you’re a double agent?” Your tone was low like thunder, and you clenched your fists despite the cuffs, but quickly relaxed your hands when your skin tightened against the metal. A shiver ran down your spine. “Why bother. Seems everyone on this ship is.”

“I…started to have regrets. You were kind,” Kali blinked, chewing on the inside of her lip with a frown. “But…”

“Yeah, yeah, it was that “for the glory of the Empire” shit.” You heaved a sigh as one of the guards roughly shoved you forward, and shot the man a glare. “I’m already walking, idiot. Dank farrik, I’ve heard all this before.”

Maker, you hoped they bought your act. Yes, you were angry. But you were absolutely terrified. There was no way to get off this ship unless you found an escape pod, and you didn’t have any backup to rely on. Kali wouldn’t be of any help either. Her betrayal wasn’t the first, and not the most painful by a long shot.

You were forced around a corner and through two massive bay doors, and found Sterling standing by the viewport, arms crossed behind his back. He turned upon your entry, lips curving in a cunning smile.

“Ahh, so glad you could join us,” he gestured toward a table that had been set up in the center of the command room. “Please, have a seat.”

As if you had a choice.

You sat, eyeing the man warily as he approached, sitting across from you and neatly placing his hands on the table. You were quick to notice his skin was marred with burn scars, the tissue still raised and angry despite the time that had passed.

“Imp stragglers don’t have enough bacta, huh?” You raised a brow, inwardly grinning when you saw the fury light in his eyes. “That’s just ironic.”

He sighed, lifting his hands and inspecting them in the fluorescent lighting, brows raised in appraisal.

“When you rigged the ship to blow, I nearly didn’t resist. You were fierce - willing to go to any lengths to stop me. I respected that.” His gaze met yours, that anger still there, but also a sadness. “I barely escaped with my life. There was an access shaft I climbed through, and got on the last escape pod before it was too late. But I didn’t…escape unscathed.”

You frowned, leaning back in your seat, wincing when the metal of the chair brushed against the back of your neck. Anger welled in your chest, threatening to burst, and you clenched your fists under the table as much as the binders would allow.

Was he kriffing serious?

“You think I’ll feel pity for you after what you did? You pretended to be my friend. I thought you were one of us. I thought we were close.” You took a deep breath, hands shaking, nails biting into your palms. “When we were captured, you were the only thing I had. The only reason I kept fighting. You comforted me, held me. I thought…”

Stars, you didn’t want to admit it. To admit that once, he’d been everything to you. And during that time, you’d only hoped that…

“You thought what? That I loved you? Oh my dear, it was merely a means to an end. You are a brilliant scientist, I needed you. I still do.” Sterling’s voice was cold, detached, his icy gaze locked on you. “That was always your problem. You’re too trusting. It’ll get you killed someday. But I will admit…the times we spent together of the more…intimate sort…are ones I think of often.”

Oh, of all the vile, wretched things to say…

You tried to stand, a cry erupting from your throat, but the guard behind you forced you back into your chair, hand digging painfully into your shoulder. Heart pounding, you glared daggers at the man across from you, biting the inside of your cheek with a sneer.

“I’ll risk my life as many times as it takes to kill you!” You strained against the binders, hair falling in your eyes, while he merely watched you with a smirk. “I will never stop. And I will never, ever, work for you. The Empire can go to hell!”

Sterling only sighed, shaking his head. He pulled a pair of gloves from his coat pocket and slowly pulled them over his fingers, gaze dropping to his hands.

“You want to pretend to be a hero? To be important? Fine. I had imagined my last punishment would have taught you your lesson, but clearly I was wrong.” When he looked back up at you, any sense of familiarity was gone - replaced with the cold, cunning gaze of a deadly enemy. He slowly stood, eyes narrowing. “Considering the scarring you have, you most likely won’t survive this time. But I will warn you, it won’t be a quick death.”

No.

He wouldn’t.

Kriffing hell, of course he would.

You hated how quickly you stiffened, an old ache resurfacing on your neck, making your scars tingle. You tried your best to look calm, to hide the fear, but Sterling was too clever for that. He merely smiled.

“Because of our past, I’ll give you one last chance. Cooperate, or-“

Alarms blared so loud you winced, and Sterling flinched as something slammed against the ship’s hull, throwing the man off balance and back into his chair.

“Sir, we’re under attack!”

You watched, wide eyed, as the personnel around you began to panic, running to their stations. The ship swerved, banking to the right, providing you a glimpse of Tattoine’s red surface in the distance. Ahh, so you hadn’t fully left yet. For some reason, that provided a comfort.

Sterling stood, glancing at you suspiciously before walking further into the room, fists clenched tightly at his sides. “What are you waiting on? Fire!”

“We’re trying Sir, but the weapons are jammed! Nothing’s working,” one of the Imps frantically punched at the buttons, face paling. “Kriff. It’s an ion cannon, Sir. Everything’s down.”

You couldn’t stop the small flare of hope from igniting in your chest.

You peered out of the viewport, but saw nothing. Who was attacking? Were they pirates? Or had they come to save you? A small part of you allowed yourself to entertain, for a moment, that it could be a certain ex bounty hunter, but that would be too good to be true. Surely he wouldn’t worry himself with your fate. You were easily replaceable.

But still…

Another blast rocked the ship, sending blue electric currents coursing through the controls. Cries filled the air as another barrage nearly tipped the craft, and smoke flooded the air, filtering out the flickering lights.

“Whoever they are, they’re not getting what they came for.” Sterling turned, locking eyes with you. “Jump to hyperspace.”

“We can’t Sir,” the man sounded nearly sarcastic despite his fear. “It’s an ion cannon. We’re stuck.”

Sterling whipped out his blaster and shot the man between the eyes with a growl, face reddening as the others froze, eyes on their admiral, fear palpable in the smoky air.

“Well? Who’s next?” Sterling’s voice rang over the blaring alarms, rising higher in pitch. “Shoot any pirate that sets foot on this ship. That’s an order. And you…”

He spun on his heels to face you, nostrils flared, fury burning in his eyes.

“You‘re not going anywhere.”

You dared to stand despite the convulsing ship around you. Dared to lock eyes with your enemy as he approached. Dared to smile in his sneering face, inches from yours, as a familiar ship crested the viewport, one that could strike terror into every heart aboard besides yourself - as well as the equally familiar voice rasping over the intercom, gruff, commanding, rolling like the thunder of an oncoming storm.

“Lower your shields. Disengage your transponders. Prepare for boarding.”

-

“Sure you didn’t go overboard?”

Fennec’s helmet tilted toward Boba as she ducked under a loose hanging wire, sparks flaring into the smoky air. A stormtrooper rushed around the corner and she quickly took aim, dropping him before he could alert their position.

As if that really mattered at this point.

“Ship’s barely hanging by a thread.”

“They took her.” Boba was already moving, striding down the hall where he knew the control center would be located. “Their mistake.”

Fennec shot him another glance before following behind, rifle held at the ready, as they turned the corner and came across the massive doors. They were sealed shut. Boba groaned, anger flaring in his chest. He took a breath, clenched his hands into fists, and for once in his life, wished he had the powers of a kriffing Jedi so he could rend the doors asunder to get to the woman he…

That he…

Damn it all.

He’d grown quite fond of his little veterinarian. Loved making you smile, and relished in the fact that he could so easily turn you into a flustered mess. But he felt stronger for you then mere affection, didn’t he? Maker above, this was more than a crush.

Boba Fett, of all people, had fallen in love.

“I got it,” Fennec was already at the control panel, prying it open with her vibroblade. He blinked, grateful for the helmet to mask his contemplative expression. “Be ready. I’m sure they’ll be armed to greet us.”

Boba merely nodded, lifting his weapon with a roll of his shoulders.

“Affirmative.”

The doors swung open, and a volley of blaster fire immediately burst forth, spraying the walls with smoking scorch marks. Fennec ducked around the doorframe, picking the Imps off one by one, but Boba had a different approach in mind. One that had worked countless times during his bounty hunting days. It worked then, and it would work now. Time was of the essence.

The plasma bolts continued to cut through the hazy air, albeit a few less then before, but Boba didn’t hesitate.

He simply walked through the door.

The bolts bounced harmlessly off his beskar, and he took little time dispatching those closest to him with his rifle and gaffi stick. But as he carved a path through the smoke, the sight before him made him stop in his tracks.

“That’s far enough, bounty hunter.” A tall, thin Imperial man stood several paces ahead, pristine uniform standing out amidst the haze.

But that wasn’t what held his attention.

You were on your knees, trembling - a thick metal collar clamped tightly around your neck.

Even from the distance, he saw the probe droid hovering behind you with its hellish needles, one already glistening with your blood. This kind of torture…it was vile, even for the Empire’s standards. And they were using it on you.

You, who’d only ever cared for other living things. Who had chosen to trust him, befriend him, even love him…

And these monsters were tormenting you.

“You know what this is, of course. Take one more step forward and she’s dead. Say…did you ever see these in use during your contracts for the Empire?” The Imperial glanced between Boba and you with a smirk, his words twisting like knives in Boba’s gut as your eyes flicked toward him in question. “Oh? He hasn’t told you? He served the Empire back in the day. In fact, he probably would have turned you in if I hadn’t set you up myself.”

Oh, Boba hated this man.

Fear flared in his chest when you glanced at him, lips parting to speak, but both he and the Imperial bastard were entirely confused when you simply…laughed.

“Oh Sterling, you’re such an idiot.” You shook your head as much as you could, rivulets of blood running down your neck and dripping over your collarbones, finally landing on the floor. “I already knew he did. Everyone on Tatooine knows who Boba Fett is. Unlike you, some people change. Someone once told me fate steps in the rescue the wretched. But it won’t for you.”

Despite the situation, warmth flared in Boba’s chest, and he tightened his grip on his rifle. You remembered. And he wasn’t about to let this fool get away with his abuse. He wagered this was the same one responsible for your other scars…

The man called Sterling glared at you, gloved hands clenched to fists. His fatal mistake was obvious - looking away from the true threat. “I don’t think so. And I-“

Boba lunged faster than the man could blink, ripping his blaster away with his gaffi stick and throwing him to the ground, pinning him underneath his weight with a growl.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Unhand me!” Sterling flailed pathetically beneath him, eyes wide with fear. “Release me, that’s an order!”

But Boba saw the raw fear shining in his eyes. A fear he knew all too well. The same fear he’d seen in the eyes of countless others before this poor fool - a legacy and death and bloodshed he’d thought he’d left behind. But he remembered the scars on your neck, and tightened his grip on the man with an unseen snarl.

The man was terrified. He knew who he was dealing with, there was no doubt about it.

Good.

“Aren’t you listening bounty hunter scum? I said-“

“I am the Daimyo of Tatooine. You’ve taken someone precious to me.” Boba raised his blaster to the man’s temple. “You will never harm her again.”

“No wait, I-“

He fired the weapon with no hesitation, and the Imperial fell limp, smoke curling from the wound and wafting from the barrel of his blaster. The remaining personnel fled the room, presumably for the escape pods, but he didn’t bother to shoot them down. Silence fell, sudden and final. Boba suddenly felt old, much older than his years suggested, as he forced himself to turn and meet your gaze. Surely you’d be afraid of him, having seen him as the killer he always knew he was.

But instead, he only saw relief shining in your bloodshot eyes.

“You came for me,” a tear rolled down your cheek, and his heart nearly broke in two at the softness of your voice, the fire long gone. “I didn’t know…didn’t think…”

“Easy, my little one,” he knelt beside you, quickly working to remove the collar from your neck. “Breathe. I’m here. You’re safe.”

As soon as the collar was removed, you collapsed into his arms, curling against his chest in silence. He blinked, so taken aback by the gesture that it took him a moment to gather you in his arms, holding you as tightly as he dared, careful to avoid the new wounds marring your neck. And yet you kept your gaze locked with his, gratitude shining in your eyes.

You were the first person, he wagered, that looked at him in relief instead of fear when he walked into a room.

You’d probably be one of the only who ever did.

But right now, that didn’t matter. There would be time to handle the aftermath - time to talk, to process, to heal. Right now, he needed to get you to safety, and to medical attention.

He held you securely against him as he stood, keeping you close, nodding to Fennec who was already covering him for their exit. The ship could burn for all be he cared. You were safe, and that was all that mattered.

“Rest, sweet girl.” He pressed his helmet against your forehead, voice soft, nearly a whisper. “Let’s go home.”

[how-masterful]

Remastered

Dhawan!Master x Reader

The Power of The Doctor - Part One

Summary: This is it. This is the day the Doctor dies. The plan is slowly falling into place, and the Master is ready for the show. UNIT and the Doctor have their questions, but the main ones are clear- What is he up to? What is going on in 1916 Russia? And why does nobody know where you are?

Notes: This is it! The big one! So big in fact, it has to go over 2 parts! The culmination of a month of daily fics, this remaster is the finale of my 31 fics of fright series (technically 32 now! Halloween part 2!). We were sufficiently fed with master content, and I was absolutely thrilled that it went out on my birthday! So enjoy part one of this remaster. My longest fic to date! As always, this is dedicated to @plethora-of-imagines​. Enjoy the roast session, and wish me luck for part 2!

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, mentions of death

A knock came at the door to the cabin, the winter wind bellowing beyond the wooden walls. The woman glanced over towards the desk, her husband’s pen placed down delicately onto the parchment. She made her way to stand, hiking her skirts and placing a hand upon the shoulder of her lover. 

“I’ll get it.” She said softly, before crossing over to the door. The latch opened easily, her eyes falling upon the soldier present at the door. The rosy cheeked military man gave a small bow of respect, her hand resting upon her hip, the winter chill biting at her nose. Removing his hat, he held it within his hands.

“Madam Praskovya,” He said. “I have been sent on a matter of urgency from the Tsarina. Is your husband home?”

The floor creaked beside you, the figure at the desk moving to stand. Footsteps made their way across the wooden boards, the man emerging to present himself at the door.

“Father Grigori, your presence is urgently required at the Winter Palace. The Tsaravich has been taken ill.” 

The figure nodded quickly, turning his head to glance upon his wife. 

“Fetch my cloak, my dear.” He said urgently, before blowing out the candle upon the desk.

“If we correlate the latest tremor detection data, with the aforementioned ground deformation measurements-”

The familiar voice from the conference hall grew louder as the Doctor and Yaz traversed down the corridor. The light bled into the wooden room from the doorway, the Doctor positioning herself as a shadow before the dark. Yaz stayed close behind, her teeth already on edge. She remembered, vividly though not fondly, what happened the last time she left the Doctor alone with the Master. That was a scenario she was keen to avoid this time, with more of the universe under her belt. 

This Yaz was older and wiser than the one who had taken the first step onto Gallifrey. This woman had faced the Flux, travelled the world in the 1900’s, fought sword to sword with Sea Devils and beaten the Daleks to midnight. This Yaz had learned to fly the TARDIS. This Yasmin Khan was ready for anything. Yet despite her newfound confidence, a part of her still trembled at the sound of his voice. He was still the Master after all.

The Doctor showed no fear as she stood at the top of the staircase, her eyes falling to the pews filled with shrunken TCE victims. Yaz had tugged on the sleeve of her coat, her attention falling to the rest of the room. There were dozens of them, tiny figures lining the seats. The Master had killed them all.

It was then the Doctor realised the Master had stopped talking. Turning back to the podium she saw him leaning against the wood, a smug smirk on his face. The look was new, his messy hair now neatened and curled, face cleanly shaven. At least he hadn’t devolved into a full goatee like last time. He’d forgone the purple and dressed himself in a tweed jacket and colourful shirt, a pair of suspenders hung over his shoulders. The Doctor scoffed internally. If he’d added a bowtie, he’d have been the spit of her old self. She supposed the mockery was likely intentional.

From beyond his tortoise shell glasses The Master peered at the Doctor and Yaz, wiggling his fingers in a taunting wave. He pushed himself from the podium, swaggering to the front of the stage as he placed a hand on his hip.

“Do you like my seismologist collection? I think I've got the whole set now. First time I picked one up I swore to myself I wouldn't get addicted again, think of the storage space- But then I found out some of them were rare and you know me, such a completionist-”

“Is this just a ramble session or is there a point to your little breadcrumb trail?”

The Doctor said, copying the Master's pose from her position near the bottom of the steps. Yaz found her head bouncing between the pair like a game of tennis, shadowing just behind the Doctor. The Master scrunched his nose, crossing one foot over the other.

“Oh go on, what’ve you got so far?”

“Well, according to some you’re Rasputin, your cyber minions have stolen a quarunx, and all of a sudden there’s a second moon above 1916 Russia. Only it’s not a moon, it’s another planet. Made of metal. Wired up to a TARDIS. Do I get bingo if I say it’s one you made yourself?”

The Master nodded along, counting on his fingers sarcastically at each point, the Doctor stepping down a stair with each moment of emphasis. By now she was on the main floor, watching as the Master pulled the pair of glasses from his face and slid them into his top pocket.

“And do I get a full house if I figure out how it all fits together, or are you just going to explain it all to me with that smug look on your face?”

The Master smirked, hopping down from the stage and raising his hands in surrender.

“Be patient, we’ll get there eventually. By the way, hello to you too-”

“How did you escape Gallifrey? How are you still alive?”

The Master chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“How many times, Doctor- It’s almost like you’re still surprised. If you paid a little more attention to detail, maybe you would know. Speaking of-”

The Master turned to face Yaz, strolling past the Doctor to lean against the front row of pews. He made a good effort to bump her shoulder on the way, the Doctor rolling her eyes as he went.

“Travelling a little thin on the ground, aren't you, Doctor? No room in the TARDIS for the whole Brady Bunch? I get why you dropped the boring one, I could never remember his name anyway. No hard feelings Yaz, but I was hoping if at least one of you was going to stick around it would be Graham. But then again, no prizes for guessing why you lasted longest. She has a bit of a thing for earth girls.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” Yaz said, pushing back her shoulders and sending the Master a steely glare.

“Where’s yours? I thought she’d be sitting in the front row drawing love hearts around your name in a notebook. Don’t tell me you got dumped.”

The Master smirked, tilting his head and looking Yaz up and down.

“That shade of green doesn’t suit, Yaz. I know you were rather fond of O, but as a married man I cannot sanction all this flirting-”

“And I can’t sanction all this killing. Why?”

The Master sighed, turning to face the Doctor and moving off from the edge of the pew. The Doctor pulled her gaze from Yaz, the proud burst within her chest hardening into disdain as the Master stood inches from her face. The Masters expression softened, eyes melting from his devious glare into wide eyed innocence. For a moment the Doctor found herself back in Australia, staring at the face of a supposed friend. But the dark reality came seeping back at his words. By now her friends, both new and old, were long gone. This was all that remained of the pair of them.

“To give you a simple warning, Doctor. Leave earth, right now. Or it will be the death of you.”

“Why, finally going to make good on all those threats?”

“Because this is the day you are erased.”

“I’ve dealt with that before-”

“From existence,” The Master whispered. “Not just history. This, Doctor, is the day you die.”

The two Timelords stood before one another, almost daring each other to break away from each other's gazes. They were old eyes, each gaze burning with a thousand memories of the universe. Shared histories, crossed paths. Broken trust, broken hearts. The Doctor's cogs were turning in her brain at full throttle, trying to poke a single hole in the Master's exterior that would break open his entire facade. But there was no speck of dishonesty within the Masters hypnotic stare. That was the most worrying part of all.

Eventually, the Master broke the stand off with a melodramatic sigh.

“Wow, quite the conversation stopper. Bit awkward, right Yaz? You see-”

All the energy had returned to the Master's body, his feet dancing across the floor as he slid towards Yaz’s chest. Yaz grit her teeth together, letting her eyes shut as the Master brought his face close to her own. She could feel the villainy radiating off of him like a stench of evil. She’d learned how to sense this sort of thing. Memory always put a vile taste in her mouth. The Master was no exception.

“Now she’s stuck and doesn’t know what to do, because I've just been brilliant and made her second guess everything. She doesn’t want to leave, because she doesn’t trust a single thing I have to say, which quite frankly, my hearts doth break. But she ALSO knows she has to take it seriously, because when I make a threat, it’s no empty one. Scouts honour. Cross my broken hearts, hope to die- we have to hope, because we both know, that never tends to happen-”

The Masters maddened rambles were cut short by a commotion at the back of the room. The Master whipped around in a frenzy as the soldiers of UNIT began to filter into the room, the harsh clatter of police boots stomping down the stairs, every possible exit slamming open as the soldiers began to pour in. Yaz stepped to the Doctor's side and watched as the soldiers began to encircle the Master, the Timelord spinning in a circle not unlike a dog before it sat down. His eyes were busy with thought, his hands once more raised in surrender as the backup descended on their prey, the Master scrunching his nose at the Doctor and chuckling.

“Oh, you brought soldiers! Are these for me? You shouldn’t have!”

The Master spread his arms wide as the soldiers stomped their way onto the floor, finding himself unable to withhold a smirk as he watched one crush a shrunken doll beneath their feet.

“Oh dear, there goes all hope of solving climate change. Those poor polar bears!”

The soldiers, now seemingly privy to the Masters taunting, began to watch their step as they made their way to make the arrest. The Doctor watched with her perfected poker face, the Master smirking as the soldiers took grasp of his arms and began to pull them into cuffs. He shifted uncomfortably, rolling his shoulders and gasping.

“Oh, gentle, gentle boys! It’s a good job my wife’s not here, she’s really into this sort of thing. A good old bit of roughhousing.”

The Master read the name badge upon the soldiers’ uniform, and caught the Doctor's glare with a devious glimmer in his eye.

“Am I going to UNIT? I really hope I am.”

Yaz glanced towards the Doctor. The Timelord was breathing heavily, though she was doing a good job at hiding it. The Doctor looked at the soldiers around her, and memories came flooding back. The last time this situation occurred, with Missy and Kate in London, it had cost the life of Osgood. She knew the Master had more up his sleeve than he was letting on. To leave him alone without any supervision would be to sign the death warrant of all the soldiers in the room. 

Maybe he was right, perhaps it was a good thing you weren’t here, no matter why. You weren’t here to encourage him. But you also weren’t here to hold him back.

“Give her a gun.”

The Doctor said bluntly, and the world around her sprung into action. The soldiers, guns aimed at the Master already, intensified their grip. Yaz rushed towards the Doctor with concern, confusion riddled over her face. Even the Master seemed slightly confused, his eyes panning between the Doctor, Yaz, and the handgun that had been thrust from the pocket of a soldier- now primed and ready to be taken. This was new. This was interesting. This meant the Doctor was deadly serious about what was about to occur. The Master found himself sufficiently excited, pressing his lips together to suppress his laugh.

“What?” Yaz asked, her hand lingering in the same spot on the Doctor's arm.

“Why?”

“Cover him. We’re going to take him in the TARDIS. Take the gun.”

“C’mon Yaz,” The Master singsonged, watching her squirm with sick pleasure.

“I thought she didn’t like guns. She must be worried. C’mon, I'll accept it as an apology for insulting my marriage.”

The Master grinned as Yaz accepted the gun, her gaze lingering on the Doctor's eyes. He watched as something unspoken spread between the pair, the Doctor urging Yaz with just the power of her glance. Yaz could see the Doctor was worried, she’d learnt the microexpressions upon the Timelord’s face by heart. All those years of that hologram, she knew what the smile lines at her eyes meant, the furrow of her brow at her anxieties. The Doctor was anticipating the worst. Yaz knew this meant she had to be at her best.

“There you go. Do you need me to show you how to use it, dear?”

Yaz cocked the gun and aimed it directly at the Masters head. She stared at him with hatred down the metal barrel, her finger primed and ready at the trigger. The months and months of police weapons training still lingered in the memory of her muscles, her shoulders hardening as she watched her target.

“The only green I've been is in weapons training. So don’t you worry. Now move.”

The Doctor watched as the Master relinquished his resistance, the UNIT soldiers flanking every side of his body as he was paraded towards the same staircase the Doctor arrived from. Yaz stayed at his tail as he was yanked up the stairs, the Master glancing over his shoulder towards the conference room with a dramatic sigh.

“We’ll pick up on the volcanic ash radius next time. Great chat, brilliant questions. Nice to see some familiar faces. Oh and boys, when you’re done stamping on them, clean up the tiny bodies and inform the loved ones for me. It was Daniel's wedding anniversary, his husband will be so upset!”

The Doctor watched the troupe of UNIT soldiers disappear from the room, a dark feeling twisting in her gut. Everything was so… disjointed. She had the larger pieces of the puzzle to hand, but there were still gaping holes in the picture, one shaped just like you. She knew the Master, and she knew you.

 If you really were gone, she also would have known by now. The Master would have pulled something ridiculous- gone on another rampage, destroyed a civilization, scorched a message into the side of a planet begging you to come back. It was the most dangerous part of this current face of his. Beyond his temper, his disdain for good, and his seemingly self destructive nature- he had you. 

You were somehow a part of this plot, the Doctor knew for sure. Only where you fit in, and how, were still a mystery to her. All she knew was that your card was still in the deck, and the Master had still to play it. The Doctor sighed as she followed the crowd. Something big was about to come over the horizon. 

Though luckily, she still had her own cards up her sleeve- she still had her Tegan and her Ace.

“Tsarina, Rasputin and Mrs Dubrovina approaches.”

A maid declared to the Tsarina of Russia, the grand doors to the Winter Palace opening on command. The man from the cabin and his partner strolled elegantly into the hall, the man's hand reaching forwards to accept the touch of the Tsarina.

“Father Grigori, Madam Praskovya, thank you for coming. It is my son…”

“His haemophilia is a cruel illness.” The woman said softly, Madam Praskovya nodding at the presence of the Tsar at the planning table.

“Such a cruel illness, such a small injury… it is a test of faith indeed.”

“That is the problem I face, dear Father.” The Tsarina admitted through a pained whisper.

“I fear my faith is failing- I worry he has worsened, ever since the second moon emerged in the sky.”

“Such cosmic wonders are nothing to be feared, Tsarina. As I'm sure Father Grigori has told you, the universe is a benevolent leader.”

“Indeed, my dear Praskovya. A new moon, a new test of faith. Times such as these are sent to strengthen our faith, to test our commitment. They are a challenge we should not fall to.”

“I simply fear-”

“You should fear not. You should trust in my words, in the advice of Madam Praskovya. You should place your trust in us. In me.”

“But how-”

Rasputin's words were careful, soft and intentful as he met the Tsarina’s gaze.

“Are my eyes not full of certainty?”

Indeed they were. The Tsarina felt the compulsion within her, the hypnotic pull of command that eased her back into the comfort of obedience. She could trust Rasputin and Mrs Dubrovina. She must trust Rasputin and Mrs Dubrovina.

“They are.” She whispered, before falling back in line.

“Put him in the bunker. Full security detail, constant monitoring. I don’t want him out of our sight.” Kate commanded, the UNIT soldiers standing to attention from the moment the TARDIS had materialised inside HQ.

The Master gave a hop step as he sauntered out of the TARDIS, the strong arms of the UNIT personnel returning to grasp hold of his handcuffs. The corridor was flanked like a bridal procession- soldiers standing shoulder to shoulder, every inch of path the Master was about to walk down armed to the teeth. The Master smirked at Kate Stewart, standing there in all her familiar glory. Unknowingly still stood in the looming shadow of her father. One that everybody still casted her in, no matter how hard they denied it.

“Learned from last time, eh Kate? Ooh the bunker! Sounds so dramatic!”

The Master gave another hop step, the arms of the soldiers keeping him in the air. If he were any other Master on any other day, he might have proceeded to swing his way down the corridor like a child. That was more Missy’s style, however. He liked to think he still kept her fun side, not for a lack of heels and a lack of trying. 

“I do love a good bunker. Anybody want to join in? Bunk up in the bunker? As long as you don’t snore.”

The Doctor had slipped out of the TARDIS behind the Master, watching him stroll down the corridor with a stone faced expression. Yaz had followed, standing beside her with the gun hanging from her hand. A soldier had opened their palm for her to place the firearm in, and she’d accepted the opportunity with thanks. As much as she hated the Master, she hated guns even more. That was something she’d proudly learned from the Doctor. Guns never solved anything.

The Master suddenly stopped, leaning over his shoulder. Kate had followed him behind, keeping a watchful eye on her prisoner. The Master smiled sickly, leering towards her face.

“You can try all you want Kate, you’ll never be your father. As much as an idiot he was. Your dad had a bespoke little prison made just for me, meanwhile you’re about to throw me in some ratty old cage like an animal. You pulled this stunt last time with the plane. That Briga-dear old dad of yours had a little more respect for me than that.”

Kate smirked, her resolve firm as she stepped closer towards the Master. She’d been preparing for this moment for years, her institution ready ever since the Cyber invasion in 2014. It was the nature of the Lethbridge-Stewart line: every one of them was able to handle the likes of the Master. Or at least, they prided themselves on trying to. No matter how hard the situation seemed.

“You seem to believe I harbour any respect for you at all.” Kate replied, unflinching.

“I suggest you correct that before you rot in the basement of my building. It’ll make things easier for you.”

“Awe, spoken like a true Lethbridge- Stewart. Don’t try and play the girlboss, darling. That was my thing. You think you got this job because you earned it? Tell me, how can the head of scientific research fail her GCSE Maths twice?”

Kate leant in closer, narrowing her eyes and curving her lips into a grin.

“I should start charging you rent, the amount of times you’ve been held captive in one of my facilities.”

“Are you offering frequent foe stamp cards?”

“You wouldn’t qualify. That would suggest we see you as an enemy worth our time.”

The Master grinned, his voice velvet smooth, tongue pricked and tainted with venom.

“If we’re so keen on saving time, why don’t you point out your favourite assistants to me now and I can kill them like I killed Osgood?”

The Master turned away, feeling victorious in his endeavour. He liked to believe he was above such trivial matters as a petty verbal squabble. He liked to think it, but he knew he wasn’t.

The biggest surprise to the Timelord came as he passed under the top deck, emerging out of the corridor and into the main hub of the building. He glanced over every face, each sad state of affairs that bore the UNIT logo upon their chest or name tag. There were soldiers, scientists, assistants and interns. Poor souls hired to pour the coffee. Merely additives to the death toll that was to come later.

But stood on the stairs, oh what a treat. The Master broke into a gasp of delight at the sight of two old faces leaning over the balcony of the stairs, two of the Doctor's old companions stood waiting for him to arrive. Tegan and Ace, those old friends of hers. Certainly, much older than they were when the Master first met them. Still holding the same glare of hatred. Some things never changed, he thought. It was nice to know they still held him in such high disregard.

“Oh, Tegan Jovanka!” He grinned, casting his glance towards the Australian woman. Oh, how wonderful her narrow eyed glare was.

“How’s your Aunty Vanessa? Do you keep ‘er in a liccle doll’s house?”

He teased in a silly voice, watching her face morph into a fury. It was rather adorable.

“Aur naur, hit a nerve did I?”

“I’m going to enjoy watching you get locked up in a tiny cell.”

“That's it, you go girl. Stick it to the Master. Speaking of tiny, where’s that little wife of yours? I expected you to be taking high tea on Trakken with the other ladies of the royal court, not skulking around UNIT in your sensible shoes. Oh don’t tell me… did Nyssa leave you too?”

The Doctor's glare began to burn a hole in the back of the Master's head, her eyes staring daggers into his mess of hair. Yaz watched as her stoic face began to silently crumble, the Master's words digging deep into her guilt. Tegan gave a disgruntled huff.

“Aw, bless. Well If you see her, let her know I made good use of her daddy’s body. Of course, after a few genocides he began to wear a bit thin. So she can sleep easily knowing people around the universe quake in fear at the thought of him, and he’s currently burned out of existence.”

“You destroyed Trakken, you ignorant dick.” Tegan hissed coldly, leaning further over the railing. Ace took hold of her arm to stop her lunging across the bar to throttle him. The Master gasped proudly.

“Did I?”

“When you thought it was a brilliant idea to unwrite reality.”

“Oh wow, I genuinely didn’t know. Oi, Kate, are you hearing this?” The Master called over his shoulder towards the head of UNIT.

“Unwriting reality, destroying planets. Sounds like stamp card material to me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Ace called from the top of the staircase, her hand still holding on to Tegan's arm. The Master turned to look back at the pair, smirking fondly at the woman in the striped suit.

“And Ace too! Aren’t I lucky! Or should I call you Dorothy? Are we a bit too old for our old gang nicknames, or are the 80’s well and truly back?”

“You’re one to talk, Master.” She spat, looking the renegade Timelord up and down. The Master shrugged his shoulders indignantly.

“See, doesn’t it sound nice? Rolls off the tongue. Like your Prrrofessor. Or is that a sore spot for you, considering she ditched you?”

The Doctor was a few steps away from charging down the corridor, but she knew better. The Master was buying time, enjoying picking at the threads of each and every person in the building. It was all he had, now he’d been caught. He was like a bratty child, trying to grab attention while being ignored.

“A little fall out, perhaps? With your machiavellian maestro?”

Ace leant forward across the railing, knuckles white against the metal.

“Last time I saw you, you were half cat.” She hissed, glaring down at the Timelord. The Master smirked, looking from side to side at the two soldiers that had kept a tight grasp on his collar and arm. He remembered the Cheetah planet well, the effects still burning hot within him.

“A man’s allowed to experiment.” He grinned, baring his teeth and turning his hands into claws. 

“I mean seriously, is this the best you could do? The Aussie and the street rat? Sorry ladies, but today was going so well. Seriously, Kate. You couldn’t have gotten me Jo Grant? At least I would’ve been nice to her.”

Kate sighed, stepping forwards and taking control.

“Show’s over. Take him away.”

The Master nodded in agreement, scrunching his nose and nodding along with Kate's command. He looked up to see several more faces had joined the audience, staring down at the commotion from the upper levels of UNIT HQ. The Master grinned. You would have loved this.

“Oh yes, yes! Take me away! Because then we’ll all feel safer with me in the building, in the hole, in the dark, right beneath your feet. Great job, Kate!”

The Master was yanked backwards into the lift, the doors starting to close. He suddenly burst forward, sticking his leg out and craning his neck. The door retreated back with a metal hum, the Master turning to stare at the Doctor with the same innocent eyes as earlier.

“You’re not going to leave them alone again, are you Doctor?” He giggled deviously, the soldiers yanking him back once more. This time the doors to the lift managed to close, the Timelord grinning dangerously as they shut before him. 

From within the lift shaft his excited whoops could be heard, the soldiers that once flanked the lift dissipating from their post. Kate looked towards the ceiling once more, staring at the onlooking faces.

“I said the show's over!” She stated firmly. At once the onlookers disappeared.

 The Doctor took a step forward, meeting Kate’s eyes as she turned towards the looming blue box.

“Kate, put the building on high alert. He’s planning something. His wife-”

“Is currently unaccounted for. I’ve had a team monitoring the chatter, she hasn’t been seen ever since his defection from MI6. We’re working under the presumption that she's planning an attack.”

“The Master has an army of Cybermen in 1916, they could strike at any minute. If he’s in your bunker, somebody else has to be watching over things.”

Kate turned and whispered towards an aid, who scurried off in another direction. Ace and Tegan made their way hurriedly down the steps, watching the Doctor retreat to the front of the TARDIS. The Doctor peered over Kate’s shoulder, looking at her two former companions

“Keep an eye on the Master. We won’t be long.”

Ace stared at the Doctor in disbelief. All of a sudden the same creeping feeling that had plagued her long ago returned. She wasn’t the strong woman she had grown into now: she was a teenager again, standing there watching her mentor, her closest friend, disappear into those police box doors. Disappearing without her.

“Professor,” She called. The feel of it on her tongue felt sour.

“Where are you going?”

Tegan frowned, already disgruntled from her argument, yet more than happy to enter into one with more meaning. But the Doctor didn’t stay- just as the Master had predicted. The two women watched the Timelord beckon Yaz into the TARDIS, closing the door behind her without a second word.

“She really doesn’t want us in there.” Tegan sighed, hands falling to her hips. There had to be a reasonable explanation- perhaps she’d redecorated and knew they’d be more than happy to judge. Maybe she was simply thinking ten steps ahead as usual, and this was part of the grand plan. Whatever it meant, Tegan and Ace were staying in the building. Staying at UNIT HQ. Perhaps that’s where they were meant to be.

Beneath their feet, the Master was pushed from the door of the lift and into the corridors of the basement. He glanced around the dark corridor, categorically observing every turn and side of the route to his destination. He began to whistle a jaunty tune, waving to all the soldiers that flanked his path once more.

“I love what you’ve done with the place.” He mused, the soldiers tugging at the back of his jacket once more. He let out a grunt as he was shoved forwards, clattering against the far wall of the metal cage known as the bunker.

 He turned up his nose at his surroundings. God, what a dump. He supposed it must have been his fault the standards were so low these days. All the budget must have gone towards defeating his bigger and better schemes. 

“At least the plane gave me a seat.” He grumbled, scuffing his shoes against the concrete floor as the guard secured the lock to the gate. He took a run up to the front bars, plastering himself across the locked door and calling to the guard.

“Excuse me darling, I booked the cage with a bed? And I don’t seem to have the room service menu.”

The guard stared down at him unimpressed, yet the Master continued on.

“I’ve got allergies, you see. Ever since they changed the recipe, I’m suddenly UNIT intolerant.”

The renegade Timelord chuckled as the guard turned away with a scowl, slamming the second door of entry to the bunker shut with a heave.

“You laugh now, but mark my words, the wife will NOT be happy when she gets here.”

The Master grinned, pushing off from the front of the cage. He began to hum a simple tune, sitting himself down in the far corner of the cage and stretching out his legs. He gave a small wave to the large camera in the top corner, before reclining with his hands behind his head. Oh, he missed the early days of UNIT imprisonment. How wonderful his past cage had been, with his workout equipment and colour TV. He’d spent many happy hours watching earth TV shows and scheming, the UNIT sanctioned prison uniform was dangerously comfortable. Oh, and that cape! With its glitter and stars and jewelled clasp. He still had it somewhere in the TARDIS. You were awfully fond of it too. He often thought the world wasn’t as magical as it used to be. You somehow kept the magic alive, though.

“Not long now…” He hummed to himself, staring at the ceiling and settling back down. “I love a good reunion. Oi, warden! Any chance of the WIFI password?”

“My dear Tsar, this endless war- I fear for our people as much as you do. Have you made a decision upon sending in more troops? Or do you intend to withdraw?”

Madam Praskovya approached the planning table, the Tsar pinching the bridge of his nose in concern.

“The decision is difficult. So many lives. What do you suggest?”

The woman smiled, placing a hand upon her stomach.

“Much like my husband, I fear for your family. As a mother myself, I believe the stress brings great turmoil to you all. I’m sure my husband would agree… a holiday for you all is a powerful remedy.”

The Tsar tilted his head in thought as Father Grigori stepped to his wife's side.

“Indeed, a long holiday, very soon. Some time away shall benefit you, don’t you think?”

The Tsar nodded in agreement, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Yes… a long holiday… very soon. That’s what I want… isn’t it?”

Rasputin stepped nearer.

“Yes, it is. I shall care for your beautiful Winter Palace, your staff shall follow the guidance of Madam Praskovya. And you shall remain assured of your one certainty. Which is?”

The Tsar was unable to look away, his eyes locked within the gaze of Grigori Rasputin. The man's wife, Praskovya Dubrovina, watched by his side, a knowing look upon her face. One that understood the instruction within his mind. One that was present when it was first placed there.

“That you… are the Master.” The Tsar spoke, the words falling from his tongue. The Master smiled, your own lips curving into a grin by his side.

“And I will obey you.”

“I really hoped I'd seen the last of him. But y’know, cats and their nine lives.”

Rattle. The brown backpack Tegan had kept slung over her shoulder had spread itself out over the floor. 

Clang. The material at the top lip of the bag had rumpled and split open, the contents of the carrier spilling itself onto the linoleum. Tegan watched the bag curiously, taking an anxious step towards the brown bag. 

Ace briefly glanced up from the computer screen, watching her friend anxiously.

“You alright?”

“No… the toy-”

Tegans hand nervously made its way to clutch upon the striped material of Ace's sleeve, instinct pulling her away from the other side of the room. The chair the bag had fallen from was spinning idly, her books and papers scattered. But the Cyberman toy, the small doll the Doctor had gifted to her, had somehow walked across the room and positioned itself in the middle of the walkway. It was a stand off between the two women and the small Cyber toy, each one daring it to move and praying it wouldn’t. The screen behind them suddenly began to fizzle and crackle, the picture of the Master’s cell blaring itself in glorious black and white. 

“Oh dear, did she want to come out already?”

The pair span around at the sound of the Master's voice from the speakers. The Timelord was sitting in the corner of the room, flexing his bound wrists and staring dead straight into the camera. Tegan was right, the sight of the criminal in a tiny cell brought the pair some sense of comfort. A miniscule sense of justice, just as big as the toy. But the smirk on his face and the glimmer in his eye spoke of something not to be trusted. How was he even communicating with them? How did he know where they’d be?

“I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt. It must be awful being trapped inside a tiny little figurine. Mustn't it?”

“How the hell is he doing that?”

Ace whispered to herself. The Master scrunched his shoulders happily.

“Trust you, Tegan the brave heart. Should have nicknamed you Tegan the naive. Did you really think the Doctor would go out of her way to send you one tiny little toy?”

Tegan inched closer to Ace’s side, the woman's fists already clenched, her face calculating what he was saying. The Master was relishing in the cruelty of nostalgia today. It was a loose thread the two were determined not to let him pull. But he was tugging rather hard.

“The Doctor didn’t send you that toy. I did. I must thank you for taking such good care of her. Parting is such sweet sorrow, after all. But I knew I could count on you to keep it close if you thought your beloved Doctor still remembered you.”

The Master had risen to stand, bringing his face inches from the camera as he stared down the lens from the dingy basement bunker. Up close, the pair could see the evil speckled across his eyes. No wonder he’d been so adept at using them to control others. Even his eyes spoke of everything they and the Doctor stood against.

“You kept it close, because deep down you know you have nothing else. It’s poetry in motion, you’ll see. Especially with this next part. I hope you’ve been paying attention.”

“Why do you keep calling it a she?”

Ace suddenly asked, matching his look into the camera. The Master chuckled, tapping his fingertip against the glass.

“Oh, gold star for Mcshane! You see, that ain't just any Cyberman. It’s rather special, close to my hearts. All I have to say is, I don’t know… ‘Activate protocol 23’... and something rather magical happens.”

At the Masters declaration, the Cyberman began to shudder and grow. The doll's limbs began to expand and lurch outwards, the entire figure swelling and shooting up and size at rapid speed. The two women stepped back in shock as the figure soon reached north of six feet, the centre bond between the two half’s glowing and splitting itself open.

“Meet my Russian doll. Sweet Tegan, you should have held on to your dear old aunt. Because y’know what the best part of tissue compression is?... It also works in reverse.”

The Master laughed madly as a wild glow began to emanate out of the Cyber figure, the familiar stomping of Cybermen echoing through the office. Two by two the legion of Cybermen began to bleed out into the HQ, their metal feet punching into the ground as they assumed strategic formation. Ace was quick on her feet- the woman suddenly sprung into action, sliding across the floor of the office and grasping hold of the two handles in a floor panel beneath the main desk. The panel was yanked from its place in the floor, revealing a secret compartment- large black guns and strips of ammunition sat in floor-bound holsters, the gold bullets shimmering within their casings. UNIT knew how to handle a Cyber invasion. They’d had more than enough experience.

The layers within the Cyber doll continued to peel away, until the glimmering white faded into a silhouette of jet black. The doll split open as before, but this time an unfamiliar sight stepped out. It was a Cyberman, decayed and rusted, one arm covered in cloth and wielding flesh, half of its face broken and shattered, revealing the pale skin of its body beneath. The Cyberman glared at the two women with its still human eye. The Master clasped his hands together with glee. 

“Don’t be scared girls, meet my friend Ashad! I killed him once but he’s forgiven me now, because now he’s become useful to me. Call him the head of security.”

The figure had yet to finish its lightshow. The black layer had slipped away, revealing a layer of shimmering metal, engraved in circular Gallifreyan and glimmering gold. The join in the middle split once more, revealing a distant figure between the hazing glow of the doll. Two feet stepped out from the doll before it came crashing down into a screwed up mass of metal, the figure's shoulders rolling back and arms stretching to the heavens. Rocking on their heels before sighing with a flourish, the figure gave a teasing wave to the two women.

“Lovely day for an invasion, isn’t it?” You grinned, before pulling two blasters from the holsters on your belt.

“TEGAN!” Ace called from across the room. Tegan instantly sprinted across the screen, the Master smiling devilishly as he peered into the screen.

“The basement calls, Love. Why don’t you let the Cybermen play while we catch up?”

You watched as Tegan hastily flipped the front desk onto its side, Ace wielding the large black guns. You gave a teasing laugh as you waved your blaster in the air.

“I’d love to stay and chat, but places to be! Boys, you can take it from here.”

The Master's laughter echoed in the distance as you sprinted from the room, the sudden sound of gunfire slamming into the walls. Oh, how incredible it felt to stretch your legs again! To feel the wind in your hair as you ran through corridors, terrorising men in uniform. You were practically skipping through the corridors, the tribes of UNIT soldiers bursting in from every direction as you made your way through the building. One by one you unleashed your blasters into their chests, their heads, any place you could land a hit. They had bigger things to focus on than little old you. Cyber invasions always tended to be rather show stopping. Metal men always managed to steal the attention away from the important parts of the plan.

“ATTENTION. UNIT HQ IS UNDER ATTACK FROM CYBERMEN.”

Kate’s voice blared over the speakers, the sirens calling out through the tannoy as you sprinted down the stairs towards the basement. You navigated every turn, the dark grunge of the basement alight with gunfire as you took your quest to find the Master. The corridors were sensical, the path ahead of you easy to navigate as you shot down soldier after soldier. You could feel them all, waiting to get that wonderful kill, a badge of honour. What a shame for them. What fun for you.

The last door in the corridor burst open, and you made your way inside. The two that were waiting were an easy shot, two blasts into their exposed chests were easy hits to make. You dodged the close range fire determinedly, a few near scrapes making you jolt. The soldiers fell like wonderful dominoes as you ran towards the next corridor, the sound of familiar laughter floating from down the hall. You felt your hearts lurch within your chest at the sound, the last two soldiers falling to the ground as you sent the blasts into their necks. There was a door at the end of the corridor, an entryway lined with fencing. That was where the sound was coming from. 

You paused just before, shaking your hands and taking a breath. You fixed the stray strands of hair that had fallen out of place, smoothing down your outfit with the sides of the blasters before aiming at the locking mechanism on the door. The lock sparked with fire at the impact, the door to the bunker swinging open, inviting you inside.

Your eyes widened with delight as they fell upon the Master. He’d switched up his look since the last time you saw him, your heart fluttering within your chest as you ran towards the bars. The Master raised his hands to shield his face as you aimed your blaster towards the second mechanical lock, the black box bursting open with the force of the blast and sending the door swinging open with a start. The Master growled excitedly, his wrists ripping apart the chain connecting the two cuffs as he flexed his arms, the Timelord letting out a delighted sigh as he unbuttoned his tweed overcoat.

“Oh darling.” He grinned, his voice as velvet as you remembered it to be. 

The distance between you was gone in an instant, the Master's arms opening wide as you flung yourself into his embrace. His hold wrapped tightly around your shoulders, his face plunging into your neck as you buzzed with excitement. Here he was, and here you were. Both alive and well, thanks to his genius. 

“I knew it would work; I knew compression would keep you safe. Oh, that Tegan, she did so well. She brought you exactly where I needed you.”

You pulled away from his tight grip and gazed at your husband with adoring eyes. You’d missed him so much, the blood pumping through your veins as you felt his lips press against your hairline.

“Right by my side.”

“UNIT hasn’t changed.” You mused, tugging him forwards towards the exit of the cell.

“Still run like a circus, still just as fun to break out of.”

“I still think my stamp card idea is worth the investment.” The Master purred, his smile like the Cheshire cat as he shook his hands with merriment. All that energy built up in his system, now notched up a level by your arrival. He’d missed you terribly, the ache in his chest at your absence now replaced by the deafening thud of his heartbeats. Now his plan was well and truly in motion.

The Master took hold of your hand, your blaster slipped back into its holster as he leapt through the destroyed gate and into the perimeter around the bunker.

“They thought chainmail would keep me in.” He teased, leaning down and admiring the sparking wires of the lock.

“How cute.”

You watched the Master lean down to the base of the gate, running his fingers over the metal and grasping hold of the rod that connected into the lock box. He tugged hard, letting out a feverish grunt as the metal began to warp, the rod bending and creaking as he yanked it out of its position. The rod came free in the Master's hands, the Timelord snarling like a wild animal as he clutched the metal, and as if wielding a baseball bat, swung forwards and clubbed at the glass circuit breaker in the wall. The frosted glass shattered into a thousand pieces, the Master digging his fingers into the mains and ripping out a section of the wiring. Only this wasn’t any old part of the wiring, the way it shone in the light of the basement and churned within the Timelord's hands. You watched him grip the TCE with pride, his finger slipping into the copper ring as he stood before you with a flourish. You clapped your hands together with glee, the Master preening at your praise. He always worked better with an audience. 

The Master suddenly surged forwards, his free hand slipping around your back and the other gasping your hand. The Master began to spin you, feet waltzing across the concrete floor, his eyes meeting your own. You danced to the sweet sound of bullets and screams, just as you’d danced to the destruction of Gallifrey. He’d kept you safe all that time, carrying you between his hearts until he was sure you could be safe. Until he could ensure nothing would stand in your way when it came to your part of the plan. Here you were once more, right between his hearts. Where you always were meant to be.

The sudden arrival of Ashad at the door told the Master it was time.

“The soldiers are moving down the stairs.” He grated, metal on metal.

The Master sighed, tilting his head and pushing your hair behind your ear.

“We need to get moving, don’t we?” You asked, shivering at his touch. The Master nodded, tapping his finger on the end of your nose.

“Yes, my love, we certainly do. I’m so glad I cloned him.”

“We should keep him, like a neutered pet.”

“Trust me, dearest. If it’s a pet you’re after, I have one in mind. You’ll see.”

The Master hummed once more to himself as he spun you one last time, elated giggles pulling themselves from your throat as he leant you down into a dip. Your hands flung to wrap around his neck, the Master's arm that held the TCE extending out beyond your head.

“Welcome home, love.” He grinned, before allowing his thumb to activate the trigger. Your faces met as the trigger was pulled, the Master's lips meeting your own as you disappeared in a whirlwind of teleportation energy.

There was truly no place like home.

The winter wind bellowed beyond the walls of the wooden cabin, the haze of teleportation energy sending light shining against the dark wood. You landed in the Masters embrace, your eyes adjusting to the darkness as you kept a tight hold upon his shoulders. 

“Welcome to Russia, 1916.” The Master grinned, his hands refusing to leave your body. He’d been apart from you for far too long.

“I hope my disguise is warm enough.” You teased. The Master chuckled fondly.

“You won’t need to worry about the heat, the Winter Palace is cold in name only.”

“The Winter Palace? Am I about to be a Tsarina?”

The Master shook his head, causing you to give a melodramatic pout.

“Close, but no cigar. We’ll be having a little more fun than that.”

The Master's hand guided your lower back towards the wardrobe in the corner, the doors opening with a creak. Two different garments, similar in style, hung upon wire hangers- your hands instinctively went to caress the material.

“We won’t be Tsar and Tsarina, love. But we’ll be the next best thing. Say hello to Madam Praskovya, and Father Grigori.”

You paused, the name ringing familiar. You turned towards the Master with a raised eyebrow, the Timelord smirking proudly.

“More likely known to history as Praskovya Fedorovna Dubrovina, and her husband: Grigori Yefimovich-”

“Rasputin.” You breathed out, the same smile spreading across your face. You sank back into his hold, the Master’s head resting against your own. His excitement was tangible through his skin, the Timelord buzzing with anticipation.

“Russia’s greatest love machine?” You asked, hope in your tone.

The Master simply winked in reply.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

A Long-Awaited Reunion: Part 1.

...Dammit...How the hell did I get lost? I can't tell what loud noises are my allies or my enemies....

So long as I don't run into anyone...unpleasant...

*Fuyuhiko walks cautiously down the hall, making triple sure to watch his back so he doesn't get accosted randomly...But when he's not looking where he's going right as he rounds a corner.

*BUMP!*

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGHH!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHH!!!?

...!? K-Kazuichi!?

Fuyuhiko! Ugh, shit man, DON'T DO THAT!

Sorry...! Wait, why am I apologizing!? You bumped into ME!

Ok, let's not go there. We'll be here forever if we start arguing who bumped into who.

Weren't you with Rantaro? And Hiro? Where'd they end up?

We got rescued by Toko and Komaru and their team, and Hiro went with them. Rantaro and I went off to go look for our friends and we split up to cover more ground. What about you though? Weren't you with Kanata, Kuripa and the Whitecloak?

Kuripa and Whitecloak went off to rescue Makoto after he ditched us. I didn't hear back from them before all hell broke loose. And...I can only imagine what the fuck they went and did...

And as for the Doctor...We got separated thanks to a tremor. We were on a platform then the ground started shaking and I fell off...

Are you ok!?

Yeah...It wasn't a long drop...But there was no way for me to get back up, so I told her to rendezvous with me outside.

You think she's gonna be alright on her own?

Even if the Zetsubou forces capture her, it doesn't matter. We're not leaving here without her.

Anyway, where do you suppose we are right now?

I'm not sure...based on the layout I'd say we're pretty near the outer walls of the establishment.

Jeez, this place is massive. But the outer walls implies that there's a door to get out nearby. Door, window, whatever. We should probably look for it.

Yes, PLEASE...! God, you don't know how much I'm looking forward to ACTUALLY getting out of this pla-

Eh!?

...

*Fuyuhiko hears a disturbance around the next corner. He puts his finger on Kazuichi's lips and silences him, allowing Kazuichi to hear the sound of some people approaching from nearby.

...!

...!

*Fearing for the worst, Fuyuhiko pulls out his gun and Kazuichi unholsters his arm cannon, and they aim at the corner.

Come on...!

...

*They bare their fangs as sweat runs down their faces, and then finally...someone emerges...

...

...!?

...!?

...!?

[clovermarigold]

Hi, it's me again (^_^)/

Your HC was so cute *-*

Can I ask for another one? Maybe how the characters react when they get anxious? Do they hide and try to get over it alone or are they searching for help? (Do you write for Beckman too? I rewatch opla and I really start to like him)

Absolutely, I love it when yall request fics. Sorry it took so long to reply, pretty backed up with work rn.

One Piece Character Dealing with Anxiety

Luffy

Luffy is a very carefree person and doesn't get anxious easily. In the few cases he has been anxious it has always been over losing someone he loves. I head cannon that Luffy has slight abandonment issues but has learned to handle them pretty well.

On the off chance that he does have an anxiety triggered episode, Luffy is what would be considered both a fighter. He lashes out to do whatever he can to fix what's causing him anxiety. But his senses become very narrowed and blurred when he's in this state.

The most common examples are shortness of breath, blurry vision, and tunnel vision, shaky hands/ tremors, and loss of hearing. Spoilers; As seen in Ace's death scene.

Sanji

Sanji has a gaggle of mental issues and experiences that spur on anxiety. Some of the main contributors to his anxiety are PTSD, childhood neglect and abuse, OCD, nicotine addiction (don't smoke kids), and an inferiority complex/need to prove his self-worth.

When Sanji's anxiety is triggered, he reacts in a way that would consider him a freezer. Sanji was raised with little actual parenting, and the small bit he did get was tough love from Zeff. As a result, he tends to play the tough guy act.

Most common examples being disassociation, tunnel vision, shortness of breath, and loss of motor functions. Spoilers; as seen in Pudding's deception (I know that was more betrayal, but I see it as attacking his self-worth issues, so to me it counts)

Nami

Nami is very much the stoic type that tries to ignore or deny that she has anxiety and mental issues, spoiler.... she does. I mentioned in my last post that she is the one most struggling and learning to deal with her anxiety (pt.1). The main perpetrator for Nami's anxiety is Arlong and herself. Nami suffers from guilt and self-worth issues (A trend huh)

Nami is without a doubt the very definition of a fighter. While now with the help of her friends she's learning to react in a healthier way, for years under Arlong her default reaction to anxiety has been to lash out and get angry.

The common examples are aggression, unstable heart palpitations (Fast heartbeats), shortness of breath, tremors, blurry vision, and confusion.

Zoro

Zoro is a man who uses humor to distract from his anxiety and problems. While he is a mostly serious guy, in the anime he has a tom of golden moments that make my ribs hurt. His problems all of course stem from the loss of his friend and rival as well as their pact.

So, it's no surprise that Self-worth issues are again at fault for a crew members anxiety. I think that in the rare case that his anxiety does take hold, Zoro would freeze. But not to the point that he becomes a statue. Instead, I think that the reason we don't see a lot of his anxiety is because he pushes past his instincts to freeze and keep fighting.

Main expressions of anxiety I think he has, are loss of motor control, tunnel vision, and tensed muscles.

Usopp

Usopp tends to be made as a thoughtless coward with skin level character depth, but that ignores all of his character growth. Usopp is among the characters with less backstory in the trauma department. But I that doesn't mean he doesn't have any. Abandonment issues, paranoia being the most present. Formed from being without his dad and constantly afraid that his only friend would die at any moment.

Usopp is a runner, there's no doubt about it. When anxiety or panic attacks kick in, he kicks out. He's also what I would consider a hider, running as far from the situation and hiding until he can get his emotions under control.

Common symptoms include, shortness of breath, unstable heart palpitations, tunnel vision, restlessness, paranoia, sensory issues, namely noise and light.

Shanks

Ok, this one broke my heart to write. We don't have a lot to work with connon wise, so most of this are head cannons.

Shanks was extremely carefree and kept a positive mindset despite his upbringing and the death of his mentor. He was sad and it took a while to get over of course, but he did, and he didn't come out with anxiety issues. It wasn't until he lost his arm that his anxiety started to surface. The most common cases of his anxiety are night terrors and the occasional panic attack when in a situation he used to do easily when he had both arms. The main culprits of his anxiety are self-worth issues and phantom limb syndrome.

In my opinion, I believe that Shanks is a fighter. But not in the sense that he will lash out when he's anxious. Shanks is a fighter in the sense that he will force himself awake and out of his night terrors.

The main expressions of anxiety for Shanks are nightmares/terrors, shallow breathing, disassociation, and depression.

Mihawk

Mihawk is a character I have a hard time connecting with anxiety. Not because it's impossible for someone stoic to have anxiety. But because I just can't see him not having addressed it by his age. Shanks is believable because he prides himself on being upbeat, fun, merciful, and forgiving. Mihawk's childhood goal was to be the best, so I feel he would have realized a long time ago that he couldn't be the best without having addressed his problems and learning to handle or get over them.

In his youth however, I think he was a fighter similar to Nami. Getting upset with himself for being anxious and at the world for making him anxious.

Mihawk likely spent a lot of time working to address his main issues which I believe to be a god complex, narcissism, self-worth issues, and patients. he's still struggling with that last one.

Buggy

Buggy is all the issues compiled into a singular red nosed train wreck. I would need a week to list all the mental issues he still hasn't learned to cope with healthily. And NO, for all my Buggy stands reading this, you CANNOT fix him.

Buggy in my opinion is a fighter but is far worse than Nami or Mihawk. Buggy's anxiety tends to spiral to the point it becomes panic. For those who don't know, the difference between panic and anxiety attacks is that anxiety haunts the back of your mind and builds, panic will hit you fast and out of nowhere.

Buggy has probably the worst anxiety and symptoms due to being surrounded by a crew with a less than healthy mindset and power dynamic. Symptoms include, aggression, psychosis, delusions, labored breathing, unstable heart palpitations, and restlessness/tremors.

[violetswritingg]

Canary Cry

Robin/Nightwing (Dick Grayson) x OFC!

Description: Her violence was silent. Until it wasn't.

"I'm fine."

"Fine is just another word for drowning."

Rating T-M (mentions of blood, child abuse, mental health, cannon situations of violence and the like. Loss of parents, hard of hearing/deaf character, poorly written fight scenes lol)

Want to read the other chapters?

Click here

19

Starlight Prep

October 1, 12:00 PST

"Hey you okay? You've been off all morning." Emily asked, her glasses reflecting the florescent lighting of the cafeteria. Closing her book when she couldn't ignore her friend's predicament any longer, "It's not your concussion is it? Do you need to go to the nurses' office?"

Kate felt guilt instantly crawl up her throat at Emily's worried words and scrunched eyebrows. The blonde reaching out and laying a hand in front of Emily, "I'm okay, my aunt just got called out on some urgent business this morning, she left in a rush. Just worried that's all."

"On, urgent... flower shop business?" Emily raised her eyebrows, a disbelieving tone coloring her voice.

"Um, a shipment was running late, she had to go meet the supplier, check on the flowers. See if they were still good for sale or not." Kate came up with, not sounding sure even to herself.

"And that's what you're worried about?" Emily double checked, "I didn't know you were so invested into your aunt's business."

"I'm not, I mean – I am, just... she really cares about it, and they were like some kind of exotic flower. Super expensive." Kate left it at that, Emily just nodding eyes contemplative for a second before they lit up again.

"Here," Emily pulled out an insulted canister from her lunch bag, "It's Jasmine tea, my favorite, it always helps me calm down, maybe it will help you." Emily pushed it closer to Kate and the blonde got this sinking feeling in her stomach as she hesitantly grabbed the warm thermos.

"Are you sure? It's your favorite, I don't wanna take it if-"

"It's so okay, we're friends. This is what friends do. Drink it, it'll help you feel better, I promise." There was something more in Emily's voice that set Kate on edge, her smile a little too big, eyes a little too squinted. Was she upset?

Kate didn't want to upset her only real friend at Starlight, and so she lifted the thermos and went to drink but before she could she froze.

That's when Kate heard the music.

That's when Kate realized what day it was.

"Shit."

Kate slowly turned around, face blooming a vibrant shade of red as Ben walked in on a rolled out red carpet, a quartet of violins behind him playing long chords as he held up a banner.

Katherine Lance, please give me a chance... HOCO?

Kate wanted to die.

There were audible gasps and murmurs among the crowd as Kate stood slowly, walking up to Ben. "You didn't mention a string quartet." Her voice hissed out the last word while her face grinned widely. Eyes shining with murderous intent.

"I thought it would be more romantic." Ben just shrugged and offered her the sign, "So, you gonna give me a chance, Lance?"

Kate wanted to kill him, and then die. But remembered their agreement and took a moment, and as long as she did this one thing people would keep leaving Emily alone. Ben so far had kept up his end, she had to keep up hers.

"Yeah, let's do it." Kate took the sign and the room went crazy, Ben pulling her in for a hug, spinning her around without her permission. Setting her down as the string players stopped on a sweet note and left.

~~*~~

By her final period, chemistry (barf), Kate was vibrating. No longer toting around the ridiculously large poster paper as it was shoved inside her locker. Her knee bouncing as she watched the clock, not having heard anything from Dinah since this morning and the worry was starting to eat at her.

Was she okay?

The minutes ticked by like hours and Kate was counting the seconds. 

It started out as slight tremors, the rattling of the clock against the wall. 

But those tremors turned to destruction and hell fire in an instant, the earth seeming to tip sideways as a large plant tendril erupted thought the classroom floor tile. Kate, out of instinct, grabbed Emily and pulled her out of the way of the destruction. Both girls coughing on the plaster dust and debris in the air.

"Shit." Kate cursed, watching as if in slow motion the plant started to come down in their direction. Glancing at Emily, Kate's stomach rolled at the terror on her friend's face, sharing in the shock that was present there too. "Move!" Kate pushed Emily, sliding them closer to the door. Screams, metal crashing into metal, and squealing brakes just now entering her hearing. The electric whine from her hearing aides making her wince.

Kate gripped onto Emily's hand with a death grip as she pulled her through the destroyed classroom and pushed her into the hall. Where more students were, all screaming and pushing. Kate saw someone get taken down by the tide, her eyes widening. Pulling Emily to the side of the hall and backing her up against the lockers she screamed over all the noise, "Stay here! Don't move!" And with that Kate was diving into the mass of panicking rich kids.

Seeing the hand flailing around designer shoes and blood, Kate reached down, covering their body with hers. Taking the stiletto's to the calf and kicks to the ribs as she elbowed the people around her and pulled the girl up. Her golden blonde hair messy and filled with debris dust, eyes red and wet, cheeks covered with mascara. Kate held on as she dragged the girl through the crowd, not particularly caring if she was breaking the girl's hand with how hard she was holding onto her. 

Once back over to Emily, who was now sporting some bruising around her face and holding her ribs, Kate pushed past the guilt and latched onto her as well. Dragging both girls behind her through the crowd and into a side hallway that was less crowded. Stumbling when the ground turned again and shocks were sent through the floor. Another plant tentacle erupted in the main hallway behind them.

Kate watched with wide eyes, as bodies flew, she knew she couldn't save them, but that knowledge didn't stop the twisting of her stomach and the feeling of nausea crawling up her throat. The fire alarm started to ring and smoke started to fill the air.

"Come on! We have to keep moving!" Kate crouched, Oxygen was heavier than carbon dioxide, as she pulled both Emily and the blonde girl to one of the emergency exits that Dinah and Oliver had her memorize.

Dinah and Oliver.

They were in Metropolis, meaning it was just her in Star right now, there was no way she could deal with this on her own. Especially not with Emily and the other girl with her. First responders will be too busy to get here, she was stuck. Kate cursed in her head violently as they broke out into daylight. Dodging another plant tentacle that had decided to flop down in the alley way. Barely missing the girls by inches.

Kate's arms across their waists being their saving grace. The things started to move again and Kate pushed the blonde girl into a run in front of her and pulled Emily with them. Getting farther down and into a back alley behind the school. Kate looking at the cross section and then following the storm pipes down and cheering under her breath.

Letting go of both girls she moved to a dumpster, that was thankfully empty. Pushing it with a grunt, exposing two metal doors.

"What is that?" The blonde asked in a squeak.

"Panic room built by the school when it was founded for the dean and admin in case of an active shooter situation. Upgraded six years ago with Waynetech gear and seven layers of tactile bulletproof metal walls. You'll be safe down there." Kate puffed as she pushed off of the dumpster, head on swivel.

"How do you know that?" The blonde asked again, breathing calming down now.

"Does it matter?" Kate groaned as she pulled on the padlock, Lifting up her leg and pulling out a tactile laser blade from her boot, which was against dress code. Cutting through the lock and pushing open the doors. Which opened to metal stairs and dark pathway towards the panic room. The blonde darted down there, Kate looked to Emily, expecting her to do the same.

"Emily? What are you doing? Get down there!" Kate snapped, over her dead body was she going to let Emily stay in harms way.

"I can't do that."

"What the fuck do you mean, 'you can't do that'?" Kate spit, losing her cool, which she knew Dinah would not be happy about but she pushed on. "Emily..." Kate trailed off, straightening up as she finally noticed the dark gleam in her friend's eyes.

"You are such an idiot."

With that Emily launched at Kate. Pushing her, causing the door to slam shut with a loud bang. Kate being knocked back into the side of the dumpster, coughing as the air is knocked out of her lungs. Emily not giving her even a second, nails digging into the scarred skin of Kate's wrist and pulling her into Emily's space. Forcing her around, Kate's back against Emily's chest. Arms coiling around Kate's neck, cutting off her air. Choking her.

"Can't scream when you can't breathe." Emily chuckled with malice, emotions flipping on a dime, "Do you know how difficult that last months have been? Pretending to be Emily? Shy, bullied Emily? It was torture. All so she could get to you, what's so special about you huh?!" Emily shook Kate in her grip, Kate clawing at Emily's covered forearm, wet clicking noises falling from her lips as she tried to breathe, "What makes you so valuable?" Emily grit into her ear, "If you had just drank that stupid tea this wouldn't be happening. But no matter." Emily chuckled with sick mirth, "This is more fun anyway."

Kate's vision started to dim, dark encroaching at the edges the longer her lungs were cut off from the oxygen they were so desperately begging for. Finally finding her feet Kate relied on muscle memory, digging her nails into Emily's shoulders and crouching down. Effectively flipping Emily over her shoulder and stomping down on her throat with more force than was necessary. Coughing as she tried to regain her breath. Chest heaving as she struggled and her vision slowly came back. Emily's hands on her ankle trying to push her off and failing. 

"What the fuck?" Kate spit, eyes blazing, ignoring the sting of betrayal. It could be dealt with later, "Who do you work for?!" Kate pressed harder with her foot before letting up and giving Emily the chance to answer. 

"You're gonna find out." Emily grinned like a crazed lunatic, something silver catching Kate's eye a second too late. The needle in her calf, the plunger being forced down before Kate can react. Immediate wooziness overcame the blonde as a short scream rang out. Kate stumbling back into the dumpster before slumping to the ground. 

Eyes getting heavier and heavier until she couldn't fight anymore, going limp with Emily's smile of lunacy being the last thing she saw before everything went black. 

~~*~~

"Computer. National news." The Bat commanded as the cave announced his entrance. The news broadcast being narrated by Cat Grant, showing video of the wild plants as they tor apart downtown Metropolis.

"Should we head out there?" Robin asked, chomping at the bit. Bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet.

"No. The league will soon have the situation under control. That's not why I'm here." Batman brought up a picture of Sportsmaster on the holo-computer, hovering next to his head, "According to your intel Sport's master supplied Cadmus' Blockbuster formula to Kobra."

"Who combined it with Bane's venom to create Kobra venom." Wally added on, starting a chain.

"Which the brain used to create his animal army." Robin continued.

"And upgrade Wolf." Superboy added in, smiling at the large animal, scratching under his chin.

"The brain also used inhibitor collars like the one at Belle Reve Penitentiary." M'Gann spoke up.

"Is it possible that plant thingy's on Kobra Venom too?" Artemis asked, glancing to the empty spot beside her and silently wondering where Kate was.

"I had Green Lantern run a spot analysis. The vine's cellulose does contain trace amounts of Kobra Venom variant." Batman picked up again, wiping away the photo of Sportsmaster and bringing up the keyboard.

"These cannot be coincidences." Aqualad spoke up for the first time since everyone had assembled. "Unrelated criminals are cooperating with one another worldwide."

"Exactly. It's now clear our enemies have formed some kind of Society of Super-Villains." Batman confirmed, "The attack on Metropolis is only the beginning."

"You got that right," Robin scoffed, typing at his own holo-keyboard, "Plant creatures have sprouted in Gotham City, Paris, Taipei... and Star City..." The team tensed, suddenly realizing the missing small blonde.

"Kate.." Artemis breathed as video of one of the larger plants ripping through a larger building they all recognized. Her school, kids covered in bruises and debris dust streaming out of the front doors and into the arms of too few first responders and more plants, "We have to go get her!"

Static on the multiple screens Robin had pulled up interrupted the worry that had sprouted in the team, Batman whipping around to face the screens.

"Dude!" Wally snapped over Robin's shoulder.

"it's not me!" Robin gnashed out in response. "Someone's cutting into the satellite signal. All satellite signals."

The face of the Joker popped up on all five screens in front of Batman and the team, smiling like the maniac he is. Knocking on the camera lenses before speaking.

"Ladies and gentlemen We interrupt your regularly scheduled mayhem to bring you this important announcement." The Joker's gravely tone sent shocks down the team's spines as he flicked open a switch blade and turned the camera, "from the injustice league." His crazed laugh ringing through the cave.

"We are responsible for the attacks on your cities." Count Vertigo spoke next, claiming responsibility from his position in front of the group of supervillains, "If you wish to save them, a ransom of ten billion American dollars is required. Delivery instructions have been sent to the United Nations. There is no time limit, but the longer your governments wait..." Count Vertigo trailed off. Leaving Joker the floor to grab the camera and point it back at himself.

"The more we get to have our... Jollies!" More sickening laughter filled the cave before static filled the room again.

"Roger that Aquaman, the UN will prepare the ransom as a fallback. But it won't come to that." Batman spoke over comms, a hand pressed to where his ear would be behind the cowl. Robin typing furiously, the video being brought back up on screen in a still image of the new group of supervillains.

"Count Vertigo, The Joker, Poison Ivy, Ultra-Humanite, Atomic Skull, Black Adam, Wotan, and Black Siren. Eight heavy hitters." Robin counted off, a red box surrounding each villain's face as he named them. "Probably behind nearly everything and everyone we've faced."

"There's your secret society." Wally muttered.

"Not so secret anymore." Artemis tagged on.

"Perhaps after India they realized we would deduce the truth and saw no point in hiding any longer." Aqualad added his own line of thought.

"Yeah? That was their mistake. Right now I say we go kick some plant creature butt." Wally jumped on the opportunity for some action. "After we get Kate of course."

"The Justice League will handle the plants, and finding Kate. I have a different job for this team." Batman cut down Wally's expectations. The red head complaining, the others following, only to be silenced by a batglare, "With the plants attacking so many locations simultaneously there must be a central control system. Your mission is to destroy it."

~~*~~

Star City

October 1, 14:30 PST

Black Canary and Green Arrow, drove through the broken, plant infested, streets and swung from buildings from arrows – respectively. Both of their heartbeats in their throats as they finally come to the school their kid was at only hours ago.

The tracker she had consented to offline, not even showing her vital signs. Something that had Canary on the edge of panicking, if she wasn't already.

"Do you really think she would stay put?" BC's teeth worried on her bottom lip, the comms still picking up the mumbled words.

"Just a look and then we'll move on." Green Arrow soothed, landing on the roof of the messed-up building, repelling himself off the side and into the back alley. Black Canary having to leave her motorcycle at the mouth of the side alley that feeds into the back one due to the plant taking up all the space.

"Let's see if she remembered." Green arrow muttered under his breath, turning to face the doors built into the side of the building. Pausing at the obviously burned through padlock and smiling to himself, letting himself get his hopes up. Black Canary joining him, the two sharing a look of relief before opening the doors.

A head of blonde hair covered in dust shot out and into the arms of the man in green. The force spinning them to where her back was facing Black Canary as she curled in on herself. Green Arrow's shoulder's relaxing as his gloved hand came up to the back of her head as she shook. Eyes closing as he breathed.

"It's okay. You're okay, we're here. You did good little bird." Green Arrow sighed, pushing her back to look at her face, freezing.

"What? What's wrong with her?" Dinah bit, grabbing the girl's shoulder gently and turning her, "No..."

Black Canary had to remember that she needed to breathe, even if her heart was breaking.

~~*~~

Bayou Bartholomew

October 1, 18:32 CDT

"Twenty minutes out." M'Gann informed from the helm. The mood in the ship noticeably low as each individual kept glancing at the empty spot amongst the seats.

"Robin, if you could provide a holo-map. I'll search for signs of concentrated sorcerous activity." Zatana lifted his hands as soon as the map came to life in front of him.

"What about Kate? She should be here. Do you have any word on her whereabouts, could you track her Zatanna?" Aqualad finally spoke up about the loud thoughts everyone had been having in the background of the revelations happening.

"We are currently working on locating her." Batman cut in, his attempt to dissuade the teams' worry failing.

"Meaning you don't know where she is, she could be hurt Batman." Robin piped up, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Black Canary and Green Arrow are on it. Unless you think you can do a better job?" Batman questioned, his tone suggesting an eyebrow was raised under that cowl of his. Robin backed down, sharing a glance with Aqualad and Artemis. Seeming to let it go.

"This is ridiculous. We should be out there looking for Kate." Artemis finally burst, having sat on her frustrations the whole flight.

"Agreed." Robin piped up, typing on his wrist computer. "I've been scanning security cameras around the school and I can see her getting herself and two other girls out into the alley on the south-west side of the school but then they disappear."

"Can you pull up that still from the injustice league video?" Artemis didn't even finish her questions before it was up. Robin looking back at her with a questioning gaze.

The woman beside Poison Ivy sticking out to Artemis, looking a little more pleased with herself than the rest. Her light blonde hair, black body suit and black collar making her look like the Black Canary rip off that she was.

"Who wants to guess that Black Siren being a part of this and Kate being missing is a coincidence?" Artemis grits, crossing her arms over her chest, bringing to light everyone's worst nightmares.

"I wish I could say I disagreed with your thought process." Aqualad grimaced, eyes lingering on the woman everyone else's eyes were drilling holes into.

"So, that means she could be where we're going? Right?" M'Gann asked, hopeful to a fault.

"That's exactly what that means." Robin confirmed, his mouth in a thin line as he stared out across the passing scenery, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

~~*~~

[theradicalscrivener]

Trevor: All in a Day's Work.

The hero stands on the brink of defeat. Towering, foes whose muscle-bound bodies are tough as steel are poised to snatch victory! What is our hero to do in the face of such insurmountable odds! With the fate of the world hanging in the balance, can Simon stop breaking character for just a few seconds?

(P.S. Ya boi's got Linktree and Bluesky now)

[First Chapter] || [Previous Chapter] || [Next Chapter]

Our hero had already pushed his powers to their limit, but the enemy was just too strong and too many. Everywhere the hero looked, titans towered over him. The hero barely reached their thighs. The titan’s bodies were coated head to toe with dense, rippling muscles. Their already powerful build further enhanced by the near imperviousness of their flesh. Their bodies were as firm and strong as steel.

The hero staggered to his feet and wiped the blood from his lip. Even now after being pushed to his limit, he refused to give up. After all, he still had an ace in the hole…

“I didn’t expect to have to use this, but you leave me know choice…” the hero groaned. He raised a hand to the heavens and channeled all of his power into this one last spell.

“You think you’re so big! Try this on for size!” the hero shouted.

The ground rumbled. The tremors were so intense that even the hulking titans that towered over the hero were knocked prone by the quake. Even the hero struggled to remain standing during the sudden, intense jolt.

“Ow! Fuck!” Simon yelped upon smacking his knee against the coffee table. During his big reveal he accidentally kicked the table that Trevor’s make-believe showdown was taking place. The action figures were all sent toppling, and even Trevor was nearly knocked prone by the sudden tremor.

Trevor ran to the edge of the table and shouted at his massive boyfriend, “don’t break character!”

Fortunately, the way Simon was doubled over put his ear very close to where Trevor was standing. Simon turned his head and glared at his tiny boyfriend. “Break character!? I nearly broke my knee!” Simon whined.

“How bad is it? Want me to kiss it better?” Trevor asked, only partially teasing.

“It’s fine. It just startled me. It’ll probably leave a bruise, but I’ve had worse…” Simon muttered.

Simon took a moment to rub his knee and wait for the pain to subside. Eventually, he looked out at the toppled armada on the table and then back to Trevor. “It looks like we already won,” he said.

“This is merely a setback!” Trevor announced in his best Saturday morning cartoon villain voice.

“It’s a pretty big setback,” Simon replied.

“I’ve had worse,” Trevor replied.

“Speaking of… want to me help you set them back up?” Simon asked.

“Nah. They’re fine where they are. It’ll make the next scene more fun, anyway… you are ready for the next scene, right?” Trevor asked.

“Uh, sure. Up you go,” Simon said and held out his palm for Trevor to climb aboard.

Trevor climbed on, and Simon steadily lifted his hand up to his shoulder so that Trevor could take his place astride the titan. Trevor wasted no time in getting back into character. Trevor placed a hand against the nape of Simon’s neck to steady himself as his did his best Jim Saotome pose.

“Prepare yourselves for the might of my mech! Ul-to-ra-man…. SEVEN!” Trevor shouted dramatically.

“Ultraman? He’s not a mech. He’s just a huge dude,” Simon said.

“Stop breaking character! And I know, but the song slaps,” Trevor replied.

Simon shrugged and rolled his eyes. The motion of his shoulder nearly sent Trevor toppling, but the little guy was used to sudden movements like this by now. Trevor quickly steadied himself and returned to his dramatic pose atop Simon’s shoulder.

“Ultraman! Prepare the cannon!” Trevor shouted.

“With gusto…” Simon chuckled.

 Simon glanced down at the figures on the table below. Even seated.  he still towered over the battlefield. The tabletop only came up to his chest, but he’d need to get even higher to deploy ‘the cannon’.

Simon steadily got up on his knees. He had done this numerous times in the past and had gotten very good at keeping his shoulders steady as he squatted up and down. Soon, his crotch was nearly level with the tabletop which, more importantly, left his exposed, massive semi in a position to flop onto the table. Simon quickly reached down and fished his huge dick up and laid his thick cock across the tabletop.

“Weapon systems charging…” Simon recited his lines in a robotic voice.

“Shit! It’s charging too slow! We can’t give them time to regroup! I’ll have to use my own power to charge it!” the hero announced dramatically.

“Understood,” the robot replied. The mech held up a hand for the hero to climb aboard. Once he was safely situated, the mech lowered its hand so that the hero could return to the battlefield.

The hero reached the battlefield and sprinted towards the front of the mech’s main cannon. He stood there and gazed down the barrel of the enormous weapon. It was easily six times longer than he was tall and some change! The barrel was so thick that even though it was resting solidly on the ground, the top of the shaft crested slightly higher than the hero’s head, and that was saying nothing for the bulbous, flared out head of the enormous cannon.

Trevor momentarily broke character as he stared down the slit of his lover’s colossal cock. Trevor had always loved how Simon’s cock looked. Even when he was his old size, Trevor had loved to admire it while working the shaft in both hands and licking at the tip, but now that Trevor stood just shy of two inches tall, he could really appreciate every little detail in his lover’s gigantic cock. Even just the head of the beast completely eclipsed Trevor’s whole body. Maybe it was just Rex rubbing off on him, but as Trevor had gotten used to being so tiny, he had gotten more obsessed with just how enormous Simon’s cock was compared to him.

Trevor leaned into the tip of his boyfriend’s colossal cock and began to rub his whole body against it. As he did so, he breathed deep the scent of Simon’s cock. Simon hadn’t worked out yet today, but even so, several hours of being cramped into a pair of tight boxers had given it a distinct aroma that drove Trevor wild. Trevor was already boning up as he made the trek along the length of Simon’s fat cock, but now he was rock hard.

Trevor began to rock his hips which caused his own thick cock to glide against the lower rim of Simon’s dick slit. Simon’s cock was so huge that the slit was almost as long as Trevor’s torso. The lower edge of it was nearly even with Trevor’s crotch and the upper end was pressed between Trevor’s pecs.

Trevor’s grinding had had a nearly instantaneous effect on Simon’s cock. Simon was already borderline boned while Trevor sprinted across the table, but the feeling of his little lover grinding against the sensitive tip of his dick got him rock hard in record time.

Trevor dug his fingertips into the thick, rubbery flesh of Simon’s shuddering glans. He could feel it pulsing and flexing. He could feel it swell as it flared up. He could feel, and smell, and taste the pre as it oozed out the tip of Simon’s massive, shuddering cock. Trevor was so turned on by the mere existence of Simon’s gigantic cock head that he could have cum just from being in the presence of such a fantastic specimen, but the sensation of his own fat cock gliding against the lower lip of the titan’s pre-slicked slit felt fantastic in its own right. Trevor shuddered. His cock lurched. He struggled to maintain control, but he was quickly reaching his limit.

“Weapon… almost… primed…” Trevor murmured between tremors of orgasmic bliss. There was no one to hear him, and even he had mostly given up on the roleplay. Even so, Trevor played his part to the best of his ability.

Simon meanwhile had completely abandoned his role as “mech”. His cock was rock hard, and he could both see and feel his little lover throwing his entire body against the oversensitive tip of his fully-boned cock. Simon was so close to creaming that he had to slam his hands down on the tabletop to steady himself as his entire body shuddered.

“I’m… I’m gonna…” Simon tried to moan a warning to his little lover, but the sounds of the titan’s moans just spurred Trevor on to work harder. Trevor pushed past his previous limits and gripped the tip of his lover’s cock even tighter and dug his dick even deeper. Yet, despite how tightly Trevor had gripped, it was not enough.

Simon let out a cry of bliss. His cock lurched hard, sending Trevor staggering backwards. Trevor regained his footing just in time to see the massive, Lavos-like maw of his lover’s cockhead tremble, and then everything went white.

A blast of cum hit Trevor square in the chest so hard that he went flying backwards. He hit the tabletop and skidded several inches, which at his size, felt like several meters, across the wooden surface while more and more thick spurts of jizz arced through the air and crashed down all around him.

Trevor was dazed, winded, and a little bruised, but despite this, he was as horny as ever. The feeling of being so thoroughly coated in his lover’s spunk was the final push he needed. His own cock bucked and lurched. His body writhed and wriggled with orgasmic bliss. Cum erupted from his own thick cock, but his own load was so small compared to the massive deluge of his titanic lover’s spunk that it was completely lost in the muck.

Simon managed to fight through the afterglow and stay coherent enough to reach forward and scoop his tiny boyfriend up from the massive splatter of jizz on the table. He quickly lifted the tiny figure up to his face and asked, “Are you ok?”

Trevor laughed. He was better than ok. He was amazing! He raised two big thumbs towards the titan’s face and managed to croak out, “all in a day’s work…”

[First Chapter] || [Previous Chapter] || [Next Chapter]

[ghetsis]

It had been months since his team had last opened a rift in Ultra Space. Now, enough time had passed that the people of Alola considered the last Ultra Beast encounter to be an isolated anomaly. The equipment was reconfigured and much progress had been made in their ability to target specific alternate timelines. No more randomly punching holes and seeing what popped out.

"Give me another Paradox from the distant future," Ghetsis requested.

His scientists nodded and massive machines hummed to life as its energy consumption sent another rolling blackout across the islands. With a flash and a tremor, the fabric of reality tore open and a new pokemon fell from it with a metallic clunk.

'Hoo...'

The pokemon rose to its feet, rotating its head 180 degrees to the right, then to the left, digitally 'blinking' as it examined its surroundings. This place was downright frigid and not in the good way and the people in front of it hardly seemed to be the jolly sorts. It would really like to leave.

'H01101111ooo!'

A wild Iron Bundle appeared!

"Interesting," Ghetsis smiled. He tossed a Master Ball which the automaton immediately caught in it's cannon.

...

'01101000oo! <3'

Yes, it was definitely time to leave, but Iron Bundle would at least be kind enough to return Ghetsis's Master Ball. In the form of a hyper-frozen projectile launched at mach speed. The shot narrowly missed the team of scientists who dove out of the way and left a three foot wide hole through chamber's steel door.

Of course this couldn't just be easy, Ghetsis though as he released his Eelektross. "Subdue it quickly," he commanded.

'Hoo H0110111o!'

Iron Bundle used Blizzard!

Eelektross was strong enough to endure the attack, but the room was now filled with snow. Pointing its cannon behind it, Iron Bundle propelled itself over the frost and out the damaged door like a rocket powered snowmobile. Booms, crashes and shrieks could be heard as the little robot blasted its way to freedom.

The wild Iron Bundle fled...

Ghetsis sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Clearly the next hiatus would have to be spent engineering some better methods of containment...

[sariastrategos]

For the writing prompt, how about either Kylo or Hux seeing the other in a vulnerable moment for the first time?

@fridayincarnate I see your name come up all the time in my notes, hello!

He was being summoned to his master. He’d really messed up this time. An entire squad of tie fighters lost, ventral cannons destroyed, systems barely operational and all because he’d lost control of a mission.

He was being summoned back to his master for discipline. And Snoke was not happy. That only ever meant one thing for him.

Pain.

Impossible amounts of pain.

Most wouldn’t be able to withstand the torture he’d be put through, but he wasn’t most people. He had a higher tolerance for pain after so many years of it. He’d had to endure so much more every time he was out of line to make the lessons stick. And Snoke was so mad he knew that look he was in so much trouble he was in so much trouble-

He vaguely heard someone calling his name but he just kept staring where the projection of the supreme leader had once been he couldn’t see he couldn’t hear right everything was off he couldn’t think he was so mad he was in so much trouble-

“REN!”

Like he was in a dream he turned his head. Not even knowing why but hearing his name what was going to happen what did he do what-

Hux knew a panic attack when he saw one. He’d talked himself down from enough of them to know Ren was seconds from dropping like a stone.

He should let him. He should just kriffing let him hit the deck and be humiliated. He didn’t have a single reason not to after everything he’d done. After the years of migraines and annoyance, the destroyed tech, he should just walk away and let him collapse to the ground. Be the one to feel helpless for a change. He should just. let him. fall.

He put himself in front of Kylo’s line of vision and held his arms to steady him. “Ren, look at me. Can you hear me?”

Kylo nodded slowly but Hux could see he was barely there.

“Good, that’s good. Ren I need you to focus on me. Can you do that?” He asked calmly. A longer pause and a slower nod. “Good man. Can you name three things you can see for me?”

Three…three things. Three things he could see. “Red. Red hair.” He replied slowly, focusing on the brightest thing in front of him.

“Very good, that’s one, can you name another?” Seeing a vague spark of something in Kylo’s eyes. Recognition maybe. “Name a second thing for me.”

Kylo looked slowly at him again, eyes trailing down. “Coat. Your greatcoat. You never wear the sleeves…”

Hux nodded encouragingly “Excellent, Kylo, you’re doing very well. Can you name one last thing for me?” He could see Kylo starting to come around with every new thing he focused on. If all else failed he had smelling salts on him. “Third thing to name for me, Kylo, you can do it.”

It was like waking up slowly from a deep sleep and he shook himself, forcing himself to focus “Wrists? Your wrists are showing. They’re always covered.” He added dumbly and shook himself again. “Red hair. Greatcoat and your wrists. Your gloves aren’t meeting the sleeves. You’re touching me.” He frowned, looking down to where Hux was holding his elbows.

“Very well done Ren. Are you with me again?” He asked, stepping back slightly.

Kylo blinked and looked around, reorienting himself. “I…yeah I think so. What happened?”

“You we’re shutting down. It happens in a panic attack.”

“A panic attack?” Is that what that was?

“Yes, Kylo, it can happen when you get overwhelmed.” Hux took a step back, confident Kylo was recovering well enough.

“I felt like I was underwater. Like somebody had hit a pause button on everything…”

“Was it your first?” Now they were making awkward small talk.

“I…I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think I’ve had something like it before but not so bad.” He ran a hand through his hair to hide the tremor in his hands. “Why did you help me?”

Hux looked away. “…I never had anyone help talk me through mine.”

An awkward silence fell where they didn’t look at each other. It both answered his question and didn’t but he didn’t have the energy to press him further.

They stood together not knowing what to do now. This was new territory for both of them and the unfamiliar was uncomfortable.

Finally Hux nodded curtly and turned on his heel to leave.

“Hux…” He called after him “Thank you.”

Hux paused “…You’re welcome.”

This got long lol thank you so much for the prompt!