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midnightwinterhawk · 3 years

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I put together a little collection of Sterek and Steter fics for funsies. “Just a few fics”, I thought, “nothing too crazy.” Thirty fics later I had to cut myself off and finalize the list. You can thank @the-cookie-of-doom for the inspiration.

These primarily fall under the Hurt Stiles Stilinski category because I apparently like to see my comfort characters suffer. Most of these have hopeful/happy endings but mind the tags. For reals.

Placed under a cut since I have no self control and this turned into a long post.

Sterek

adore to see your eyes fly by @1001cranes

(11,309 l E)

stiles is a pyromaniac, derek is a sociopath. a match made in some kind of heaven. teen wolf kink meme fill.

take my heart from me by @areiton

(23,188 l NR)

He didn't really mean to adopt Derek's pack of puppies. He didn't mean to make himself important to them.

To Derek.

He just wanted to keep them all safe.

That's all Stiles ever wanted.

"Why Can't You?" by @asterekmess

(3,602 l T)

Now. This was happening now, and he couldn’t be less prepared.

After a long night, things between Stiles and his father come to a head.

And You Say You're Alone by bi_leigh_bi

(30,314 l E)

Between the kanima, the Argents, and Peter's untimely return from the dead, everything has fallen apart. Stiles and Derek try to put their lives back together once the crisis has passed. Stiles deals with the aftermath of being tortured, and the distance growing between he and Scott. Derek attempts to become a stronger alpha and keep his pack safe, and that includes Stiles.

A Victory March by @churkey

(2,688 l T)

When Stiles is eight he learns that nothing will be the same. His dad comes home one day after work and sits Stiles down for a talk. He explains that werewolves and all the monsters are real.

They're real and not hiding under anyone's bed.

Bury the Moon by darthjamtart

(16,592 l M)

First things get bad. Then they get worse. Stiles doesn’t know what he’s sacrificed until it’s too late.

Dying is the easy part.

Love's Violent Delights by @dexterous-sinistrous

(10,685 l E)

Derek caught the way the man’s eyes looked over Stiles before lingering on his ass. He waited for the clerk to place the key on the counter before he reacted.

Stiles startled at the loud noise, turning away from the pamphlets in the display box to see Derek pinning the clerk’s head against the counter. He drew in an even breath, looking between the struggling man and Derek.

Derek briefly looked at Stiles, hesitating before he saw the gleam of excitement in Stiles’ eyes and the hint of lust in his scent. “Ever look at him, or any other Omega, like that again, and I’ll slice your eyes out with my claws.” He shoved the man back, not caring of the commotion that was made as he snatched up the key from the counter.

Empty by @discontentedwinter

(48,034 l M)

Jordan Parrish is the new sheriff of Beacon Hills, a town haunted by its past.

Your Vision Borrows Mine by hazyascent

(188,781 l E)

Stiles has encountered a fair share of monsters before, way out of his league - the kinds that children are afraid are hiding in their closets and under the bed.

He’d even become one himself when he was void. The nogitsune was in his house, his body, and his mind.

But the worst monster he’s ever faced took even more from him and got away with it.

It’s why Stiles has never really been as terrified of werewolves and kanimas and darachs as he should have been. They’re really not that scary, relatively speaking, and he has a whole team on his side. They always found a way to win - until they lost someone they really loved.

Stiles doesn’t know how to be normal, not after everything he’s done and everyone he’s hurt. The nogitsune is gone, but another monster is on its heels.

His uncle is back. And Stiles has never felt more alone.

It Was a Wednesday by @isthatbloodonhisshirt

(80,129 l M)

“What happened? Where are you? What’s that sound?”

Derek jumped, having momentarily forgotten Scott was on the phone with him because Stiles had started moving. He’d stalked over to the other side of the cave, still eying Derek warily and growling, then settled protectively over a mass of clothes, leaves and animal innards. It was probably where he was sleeping.

Lovely. No wonder he smelled like death.

“Stiles,” Derek said, answering Scott’s question. Or, one of them, at least.

“Stiles? What do you—Stiles is making that noise?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“How fast do you think you can make it to the south lot of the Preserve?”

Tiny Houses by @ohmyjetsabel-blog

(77,183 l E)

"So this is what Stiles does. He lies in Scott’s bed and waits for Melissa to say she’s found someone to get it out of him, to cure him of the wrongness and the bad, and he dreams.

God, he dreams.

He dreams of fire and swollen bellies and that scene in Alien, of giving birth to jackals through his urethra, the whole horrific nine yards. His head is a terrible place to be, he can’t imagine his stomach is much better, why anyone would want to put a thing inside of it."

I'm There in the Water by @spaceprincessem

(15,878 l T)

“But it’s—” Derek paused, his words unsure, “it’s not like us,” he swallows hard, chin dipping to his chest in frustration, “it’s like a…”

“An abomination,” Stiles finished, nodding his head as he finally lets his gaze really look at Derek since Scott had pulled them from the water.

He suddenly wished he hadn’t because the way Derek looks at him makes Stiles feel like he is ten years old again. Like Derek is seeing him for the first time since they accidentally fell into each other’s orbit all those years ago. Like Stiles isn’t a burden or invisible.

Like he is enough.

Or five times Stiles felt like he was drowning and the one time he finally caught his breath

Gunplay is Not Really Our Kink by theroguesgambit

(2,577 l M)

“The rules to the game are simple. One bullet, six chances. You pick it up and take turns pulling the trigger on the other man, or we gun you both down right now. You play along, only one of you has to die. Fun game, huh?”

Derek and Stiles are captured by a group of hunters and forced to play a twisted game that only one of them might walk away from.

The Price by theroguesgambit

(18,452 l M)

Stiles must surrender the most important thing in his life to protect the town… and no one can figure out what it was.

Nieważny by Zethsaire

(2,037 l E)

The pack is gone, everything they've ever cared for destroyed. Now Stiles and Derek hunt the hunters, taking revenge in the only way they know how; blood.

Steter

Make Me Bleed by @asarcasticwitch

(2,304 l E)

Peter’s expression contorts, impressed or surprised, Stiles can't decipher, but the grin on his face proves he’s not exactly disappointed with the unexpected turn of events.

“Which bite exactly were you hoping for, hm?” The older man curls one hand around the back of Stiles’s neck, trailing his thumb along his pale, fragile throat.

Stiles tilts his head back in unyielding submission, giving the wolf no room to debate his sincerity. “I’m sure you can figure it out, Alpha.

Two Roads Converge in a Graveyard Town by @cywscross

(15,645 l T)

The Deadpool brings one more assassin to Beacon Hills. A man's gotta eat after all.

when you're going through hell (keep going for me) by cywscross

(57,022 l T)

Peter is abandoned in the aftermath of the fire, and Eichen House takes ruthless advantage. Six years later, when he's finally able to move again, he finds himself in a cell with a boy in a straitjacket.

(Kate’s biggest mistake was letting Peter live. Eichen House’s biggest mistake was letting Peter meet Stiles.)

Don't Fail Me Now by @discontentedwinter

(36,315 l E)

Stiles goes to Derek looking for help.

He finds Peter instead.

Peter takes what he's wanted for a very long time.

Sanctuary by DiscontentedWinter

(56,525 l M)

The Hale Wolf Sanctuary isn’t just for wolves.

It turns out it’s for Stilinskis as well.

Bite Down by EclipseWing (@shadow-of-the-eclipse)

(27,586 l M)

In which Stiles is forced to survive the zombie apocalypse with a sociopathic murdering werewolf for company.

Into Eden by @graciebirdie

(12,232 l M)

Stiles deciding to bring home the stray alpha he'd hit with his jeep probably made him certifiable, if it hadn't turned out Peter was as crazy as he was.

Before you let go (and the light takes you in) by Issay

(4,032 l E)

Stiles makes one last errand - goes to leave flowers on all the other graves. Fuck, so many graves. The grief is as endless and as inescapable as the sky.

He goes home and there is a thing wearing his father's face, waiting for him in the kitchen.

Call My Name by KouriArashi ( @gingersnapwolves )

(81,370 l M)

After moving to Beacon Hills, Stiles starts having recurring dreams of a man in some kind of prison, who needs his help. Things get so bad that he ends up in Eichen House, where he finds out that the man is real.

Hide my tears in the rain. by MrsRidcully

(6,865 l M)

After years spent successfully dodging werewolves, evil spirits and wendigos, it was a drunk driver who stole his Dad, a drunk driver with a suspended license and a record sheet as long as Stiles’s arm. Stiles would have laughed at the irony if he hadn’t been so busy screaming.

In My Veins Like Disease by romanoffbarton

(1,140 l T)

He tries to leave once.

Foreshock by @twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(22,816 l E)

The day Stiles’ mom died, he almost leveled his house.

Not on purpose. Not even by mistake, really. More by instinct.

Since then he's dug his fingers into everything his has left, holding on with desperation.

Desperation never stopped an earthquake.

Your Touch is My Choice by twothumbsandnostakeincanon

(2,171 l T)

The first time John does it, Stiles is two years old and about to run into the road.

“Mieczysław!” Heart pounding, John grabbed him by the back of his neck and got a hand around his tummy, snatching him back. “No, you have to stay away from the road,” he said firmly.

Shameful Company by Whispering_Sumire (@whispering-sumire755)

(38,779 l E)

"Did I turn into a unicorn?" Peter asks dryly, and Stiles glares at him for a moment before the laughter bubbles up, unbidden, nearly unwilling, and he looks so surprised at the sound, his shock dimming it for a moment before it bursts through with even more trembling ferocity. A long, thin, willowy hand curls into a soft fist over his mouth, and he's shaking, frail, more tears falling, but the copper of his eyes are glowing, crinkling around the edges and scrunched with mirth.

"No," Stiles chokes, chuckling wetly. "No, fuck you, a unicorn? What, like, Rainbowcreep? Zombiesparkle?"

[About a year before the fated Hale fire, Peter starts having nightmares that involve a woman with red hair. The nightmares lead to a spell that brings a man back through time, and, eventually, though the time-traveler is traumatized in the most horrific ways, and Peter's never been good with or for people, in general, they develop a bond that neither of them expects.]

Would You Forgive Me If I Called You Hope, Peter Hale? (Hope, By Any Other Name) by Whispering_Sumire

(10,099 l T)

Stiles has scars. He owns that, he accepts it, he's cataloged and memorized every single one, he's hyper fucking aware of them all.

"What do you want, Peter?" Having the more untrustworthy of the Pack getting protective weirds him the fuck out, leaves an odd fluttering in his chest, like moths, waiting perilously and suicidally to be burned.

He doesn't like it.

"You're injured," the man says, "and whatever it is, it's put you in enough pain that I nearly fainted when I-"

"- Used your werewolf mojo on me without my permission?" Stiles smirks, and Peter gives him a black look, crossing a leg over his knee and smoothing out some invisible wrinkle on his pants.

"Tell me the truth Stiles, how bad is it?"

[Or: The one where Stiles has scars, is more than a little fucked up, and Peter notices. He helps.]

#hurt/comfort #angst #dark #hurt/no comfort #angst with a happy ending #fic rec #be kind to yourself and mind the tags #Sterek #Steter #Stiles Stilinski #Derek Hale #Peter Hale #hurt Stiles Stilinski #Sterek fic #Steter fic #to the pain

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sailingintothenight · 3 years

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“DARLING, YOU.”

FutureDad!Tom Holland x actress!reader.

Summary: On a rainy day, (Y/N) broke up with Tom and never looked back. The reason is still a mystery, is a secret you never told anyone. But after 4 years and a hopeless night, you and Tom must face the next 9 months together while you two decide whether you can pick up your life where you left off or the resentment will be too much to forgive and forget. But how easy can it be when there is a new girl in his life and a possible new love in your own?

A/N: Hello everyone.

This is the first chapter of this miniserie, there will be a few but I hope you like it and give it a try. I take this opportunity to thank with all my heart all the people who follow my blog. I just realized that I have over 2000 followers and it's crazy, I know I'm not the best writer or the most poetic one but I'm very happy that you like my stories too. If you want, you can send requests! Thank you♥

PROLOGUE:

It is a well-known fact, a belief or a lie, that you will meet the love of your life only once. One opportunity. One person. One Love. Their story was just like that. This is the story of a girl and a boy who loved each other deeply, the story of their search for happiness, for their own well-being and for the fruit of a love that managed to last through time and distance. But, will that be enough to be together? or will the past be too much to survive the storm? Did you ever wonder... does it make sense to look for the love of your life in a place where you no longer know if there is love, or if there is life?

PREGNANT.

For her, the world is spinning out of control and it feels unstable, as if it's going to split open and swallow her alive, throwing her into a plummet that is as terrifying — as possibly painful. And it is then that the lust of a few weeks ago turns to guilt inside her, hitting her with the hard force and the high speed of a train that hurts her mercilessly right in the place where a life is beginning to grow before she got could decide if she wanted it that way or not.

What (Y/N) (Y/L/N) knows well is that, exactly 6 weeks ago, she was negligent with her own body, losing control of it, because now it belongs to a future person, to an embryo that was the product of a night of much alcohol and sex, the most reckless decision she made in her young, square and narrow life, because the truth was that, her hours, weeks and months to come were already scheduled, and they belonged to her famous life — in past tense, because now, (Y/N) is the home of a new life, according to the doctor, who grew up with every irregular breath she took — they belonged to the movies yet to be filmed and countries to visit on her still long way to the top, while right now, everything seems to turn to ashes as is consumed by a forest fire.

Sitting against her bedroom bathroom door, hands joined in a prayer begging for mercy, she thinks it's funny how a screaming mind can silence the entire world around — a world falling apart filling the void. Because they, she and Tom, tempted fate and ended up burning the hands that held each other's bodies that night, because to make a baby you need two people, but... Would the roots of Tom's love be too deep enough to face the change in their future?

“(Y/N), your mom sent me. Are you alright? You have a while there."

Tom is standing on the other side of the door, and his brow furrows in concern, one hand in the air because he's afraid to knock, because she can't seem to hear him, though he manages to barely hear her, too submerged in her laments to notice that there is someone else in her room, other than her and the merciful God — whom her dear grandfather promised would answer the prayers of a sincere soul — that she wholeheartedly hopes is real and can hear her right now when she need HIM the most.

"He– he said God hears you best when you're on your knees." (Y/N) is crying, and her words are drowning in her tears as her voice cracks when she speaks, her own English accent getting thicker. "But he doesn't seem to hear me."

The desperation in her voice makes Tom's heart break, easily and into little pieces that he tries to hold it in place, because he had never heard her cry like that before — so quiet when there was a party downstairs, so lonely when she has people who love her, so broken when she should be happy about... everything. But his mind is a whirlwind of questions and concerns, and his only clear thought is to keep her safe as his right hand rests on the door at the same time Tom rests his head against it, softly, making the sounds that would calm a baby, ironically.

"Darling, please tell me what's wrong, what can I do for you? How I can help?"

"Nothing. You can not help me. Nobody can."

Her voice starts to sound desperate, while madness and the irrational takes over his mind as Tom waits silently for her to formulate a word, but (Y/N) cries and cries and cries a little more because it's liberating, because she can't run and find a beach that saves her. Because after being the daughter of a marine, it is normal for her to seek refuge in such a place like that. Because (Y/N) believes from her heart that the sea is healing, with its smell, the division between dry and wet sand by the waves that leave their mark on their way to the coast: the sea is a sanctuary for her body and mind, because the sea smells of salt — salt and the freedom that she is looking for right now.

"(Y/N), please come out, darling. I promise everything is fine. Can you tell me what happened? Please? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

(Y/N) closes her eyes, but the moment she tries to say something, that day their relationship ended comes back to her mind and annihilates whatever words she tries to say to him. Was it really like that how it all ended? With ugly, harsh words that came from the same person who once swore to be the happiest man in the world by her side, words that hurt more than a punch, that sank into her stomach until she felt nauseous.

Would Tom's commitment, if he wanted to have the baby, be enough to try it?

“I'm giving you a way out, Tom. Okay?" (Y/N) wipes the tears from her eyes, one hand protecting her still flat stomach to give herself the courage she needs, the same courage that seems to have abandoned her right now. “You don't have to stay if you don't want to. Can you please keep that in mind for me?"

Tom's back strains as he nods, although she can't see him.

"Okay, darlin’."

Her mouth is suddenly dry, and the words that (Y/N) still doesn't say aloud are like fire on gunpowder about to explode, or at least that's how dangerous the situation feels, but, armed with nothing but the truth in front of her, (Y/N) ventures out pretending to be brave and puts her God aside, because there are times like this that a person had to face alone, and, taking a step towards the reality that awaits her outside and that engulfs, for a second, the mess created in her own mind, she speaks.

"I'm pregnant, Tom."

For him, it is as if her words were a sharp razor that cuts his breath away, that makes the world stop completely, leaving a great void where silence lies and reigns, without horns to be heard outside in the London neighborhood where they grew up and fell in love, without the singing of the birds that nest in the tree just outside the window, without being able to hear the sound of his own breathing that seems to stop too just like the beating of his weak heart.

His mind runs as fast as possible, registering her words, processing who he is and who he will be in the future: Tom Holland, London's most beloved child, actor, famous, successful, and now, future father?

Does this mean that they should be together? Because finally, Tom had managed to extinguish every feeling he once had for her, as well as the light of their love that once shone and that one was turn off, which trapped them in the shadows of a cold, hurricane and endless night, running in circles far from each other without knowing where they were going, drifting like a lost ship in the ocean and in complete darkness until everything ended. But why did he still want her? Why was he still wishing, stronger than ever, to have a future with her?

"(Y/N), can you come out... please?"

Her head falls as a sudden wave of fear and despair sweeps through her mind.

"Why?"

"Because I want to hug you." Tom says sweetly, so calmly that (Y/N) squeezes her eyes tight as she feels her heart about to explode. This feels like heaven and hell at the same time. He is confused too, and very scared, but he can see it clearly: the weight that (Y/N) must be carrying on her shoulders in these moments, all alone. "C'mon, darling. Please? Can you do that for me?”

Her legs tremble as (Y/N) stands up, ready or not to face the world that awaits her on the other side of the door. The fear of the future is incessant and sounds like an alarm in her head, but like the last move in a chess game, (Y/N) has no choice but to step forward to open the door, only to find that maybe, just maybe, there is a future nothing but bright on the other side.

Tom is standing there, just two steps from her.

His hair, fluffy as a cloud, is combed back, but just like always, because there are few things that never seem to change, he has a rebellious lock falling to the side of his forehead, but he is smiling, and the edges of his eyes crinkle just as adorably as in those old days. And it melts her that silently, Tom extends a hand towards her, in the way he tells her that there he is, that he has not gone anywhere, that in his arms is the place where she should be now, and that it is why still overwhelmed by the news, she approaches him, wrapping her trembling arms around his neck, sinking her face into the crook of his neck to hide herself from the world as he cradles she in his body as she cries a little more.

"It's okay, darling. I'm here." Tom holds her firmly, feeling the fatigue in her body as he thinks of the time she was sitting on that cold floor, again, all alone. "We're going to lay you down on the bed for a bit. All right?"

"Okay."

Separating from him, (Y/N) walks to the bed that is only a few steps away and that receives her as if it were a paradise, accepting the pillow that Tom places under her head before lying down next to her to look at her eyes, so adoringly as his left hand rests on her belly.

"How far are you?"

"6 weeks."

"When did you find out?"

"2 days ago."

"You went to the doctor?"

"Yes."

"Alone?" Tom asks, his brows knitting together in concern.

"Yes."

Tom nods, giving her a moment for her not to think that this was an interrogation, but rather a father's longing to know all that he lost.

“We are going to keep him… Right? I mean... I don't want to force you to do something you don't want to. It's our baby, but it's your body too and I don't want to make you feel like I'm pressuring you… but, (Y/N)...” There's a hint of concern in Tom's voice, and in the way his brown eyes look at her with fear and his forehead wrinkles that she knows he is scared, but there is something more too. "I know I can be a good father."

Tears form on the edge of her eyes, but (Y/N) fights against them, because it's terrifying to think how easy it is to drown in a sea of them, cutting off her words when she has to speak what her heart is dying to say.

"I'm afraid I can't love the baby, Tom. Or be a bad mother." Her voice cracks in embarrassment, but getting those words out of her body is a relief.

"What?!" Tom's brow furrows again, and his whisper is almost high-pitched, which is kind of funny. “Darling, come on, I've seen you with Danielle, Ethan and Julian, your nephews and niece love you and I know how much you love them. I've seen it in the way you look at them, as if they were yours. I know this is scary but we will be fine. Okay? You are not alone in this. This baby has a father and a mother who will love him until the end of the world."

(Y/N) blinks.

"You keep saying he."

Tom smiles apologetically, but in these turbulent and overwhelming times, his smile is comforting.

"Sorry. I don’t want to call him or her, it. Beside, I always wanted to have a boy first."

First, that's the word that makes (Y/N) look away for a moment, because maybe Tom, at some point in their relationship, had imagined them both, married, having a baby: first a boy and then a girl.

Or maybe, no, not with her, not anymore.

"Uh, when is the best time to tell our parents?"

Tom thinks about that, thinks about his mom and dad, how proud they would be to know that the oldest of their sons is about to have a baby, making them grandparents, making uncles to their younger siblings, making their best mate a godfather.

"They say the best time is now."

"Yeah. I was afraid of that." (Y/N) sighs, and with no strength in her body or soul, she sits on the bed, watching the way Tom asks her with his eyes what she's doing. "The best time is now, right?"

(Y/N) stands up as Tom does, smoothing out her jeans, and thanking herself for wearing her favorite sweater before heading down the road to victory — or defeat, depending on her parents' reaction. — towards the door, out of her room and the place that seemed to give her some peace. The walk down the hall is long, suffocating, and overwhelming, but the sudden way Tom takes her hand gives her the courage to move on and just forward, because escaping is not an option, because there is no better time than now. But suddenly, Tom stops her just before she can turn the corner of the first floor and into the hallway that leads directly to the kitchen, only to stand in front of her, looking into her eyes before his hands gently hold her face, as if she were the piece of the most valuable art in this world, only to gently kiss her on the forehead before hugging each other, taking all of the other as they can.

"What are you doing?"

"Holding you is the only way I can hold this angel of my too."

Tom sighs against the edge of her neck, trying to banish all fear in her body. And even though it's overwhelming the way he talks, as if suddenly the baby is his whole world and his reason for living, she hugs him back before letting him go and walking back to the kitchen, but as they both get closer to their families gathered in the around, hand in hand, attracting the attention from the happy chat while they wash and dry the dishes, (Y/N) feels the need, deep in her stomach, as if she has a sixth sense, to have a plan B in case things go wrong.

"What is happening?" Nikki asks, and the smile in her voice and on her pink lips is evident.

"Everyone, (Y/N) and I have something to tell you." Tom smiles, but he's nervous too, she can see it in the way his lips disappear for a second inside his mouth, like he used to do when he was nervous, worried, or distraught.

"Baby?" Her mom asks her, but for some strange reason, (Y/N) feels the need to hide behind Tom's body, or anywhere that would give the baby a safe place.

"Mum, I–" (Y/N) closes her mouth before continuing, before saying aloud the words that would change their worlds forever, too. "I... we…"

"We are expecting a baby." Tom says suddenly, snatching away the words that he knew (Y/N) couldn't say out loud to them. "We are very happy about that, and we hope you are too."

Like being about to touch the sky with her bare hands, (Y/N) can see the way Nikki puts her hands to her mouth to cover her surprise, but not before letting her see the smile that hides behind, or the way Dom grins, because Tom was right: a father would always be proud of his first-born, bringing another new member to the family, but like being at the doors and not being able to get in, (Y/N) feels like collapsing to the ground when there is no reaction from her family.

"Mommy?"

"I thought I taught you better, (Y/N)." Lauren looks away from her baby, who is now about to have a baby. Her gaze is icy on her little girl, but in these moments when the news has blinded her, her mother can see nothing but her own disappointment. "What about your career? You compromised, you had to be responsible. It was the only thing we asked of you, that's why we let you fly free. I thought I taught you better than this. I can't do this. I'm sorry."

The way she apologizes to the guests before leaving, feels in (Y/N)'s heart, as if her mom just apologized for the shame of having a daughter like her. And suddenly, the world is a place as silent as it is sepulchral that could drive the sanest person crazy, leaving her on the edge where her hopes of having someone else support her, love her, tell her that everything will be fine are falling down, but (Y/N) no longer has the strength to even look up from the ground when her father, as strong as any marine, and as cold as a stranger, passes her by, too.

She bites her lips, fighting the rush of tears that follows.

"Hey, don't worry. I got you. We got you."

The moment makes her dizzy and its weight drowns her, but Tom takes a glance at his family before holding her against him, because even though she felt she had no one, she, and the baby, still had him. But in a world full of changing definitions of love, selective memory is capricious, because it only projects memories based on our emotions. So when this haze that clouds their minds fades away and, they return to be who they were that night after making love, what will happen then?

---

Tagging people who commented, if you don't want it, you can tell me hehehe

@annathesillyfriend @herondale-snow-carstairs

#tom holland imagine #dad!tom holland #tom holland x actress!reader #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #tom holland fanfic #tom holland

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kandaxxx · 4 years

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I’m so glad I found this blog! Can I request for kanda says I love you for this first time to his s.o??

Thank you!!! And your love of fluffy Kanda is keeping me alive!!!

I hope you enjoy!!

The day had been long. Too long.

Kanda had been sent out onto a mission with both Lavi and Allen as his partners. That should have been the only red flag he needed to know that this would have been a bad mission.

They all were. He had never particularly enjoyed going on missions. They were no more than part of his job. While his prideーwhether it was pride or arrogance was something that could be heavily debatedーin the skill he had to kill akuma was undeniably present, he didn’t actually enjoy doing so. It brought him no pleasure.

It had started out badly enough. The stupid moyashi had actually managed not to be too annoying on the train ride as he fell asleep pretty early on. The problem was the idiot rabbit. No matter how many times Kanda told him to fuck off or just flat out ignored him, the redhead just continued to prattle on about this, that, and the next thing.

And then he fell asleep. Not so much because he was tired, but because it was the only way he could successfully leave the one-sided conversation.

Or so he had thought.

He had awoken shortly after he had fallen asleep when he felt his hair being tugged on. When eyes the color of a summer sky opened, they found that Lavi had almost completed the act of braiding his ponytail.

Allen had woken up to the sounds of yelling and fighting and tried desperately to pull Kanda off of Lavi which only resulted in them fighting as well.

The mission itself had been a difficult one. The swordsman counted his lucky stars that it had been short.

Allen had seen the akuma coming, but they still hadn’t been able to really prepare for what was coming. It was the largest hoard of akuma any of them had ever seen. And they had been accompanied by Road, who apparently was only there because she had missed Allen and wanted to pay him a visit.

Kanda had even managed to take a really good hit to the shoulder that had hacked his left arm clean off, meaning that he couldn’t use his double illusion swords like he had wanted to.

They had managed to kill all of the akuma and Road had left before they could go after her.

His wound had already healed. That meant that, much to the horror of Allen and Lavi who had gone green watching him, he had to reopen the wound at his shoulder with Mugen, place his arm back where it was supposed to be, and wrap it up so that it would heal in one piece this time. Except he hadn’t been able to wrap it properly with one hand so Lavi had been forced into helping which made the whole situation a thousand times worse for Kanda.

By the time they made it back to the Order, he was exhausted in every conceivable way. He grumbled to Allen and Lavi to let Komui know that he’d be in with his report the following morning before he parted ways with them, not bothering to wait for a response or even look back.

Then the head nurse found him. He had no idea which of the two idiots had ratted him out for being injured, so he made a mental note to murder both of them, just to be safe.

He spent an hour sitting on a cot while the woman undid all of his gauze, applied an antibiotic that fucking stings, you old bat! Before she went about the task of rewrapping everything up, nice and neat like a little gift. He snorted to himself at the thought, like temporary amputation was a gift.

Fuck, he just really wanted to sleep and forget about that whole day. He rubbed his palms over his face in exasperation.

As he began walking through the winding corridors of headquarters, he was stopped by the sound of crashing and screaming.

He turned to see another one of Komui’s asinine robots holding Allen while saying something about turning him into food, while Reever was yanking on the moyashi’s jacket in some fruitless attempt to rescue him. He had already begun walking away, completely intending to ignore it, until he heard the sound of Lenalee’s screaming. God fucking dammit!

So he had wasted more time having to destroy the demon robot while fending off a hysterical Komui.

Quiet. Sleep. Being alone. There was nothing more he needed. He was so close.

When he opened the door to his room, he was greeted by the sight of a lump under his blanket. Fuck, he hadn’t considered that they’d be here.

He had tolerated and maybe, just maybe, enjoyed the other’s presence previously, but right now, he just wanted to be alone. Was that really too much to ask for?

They were sitting up now, rubbing their fists into their eyes. “You’re back.” They said with a smile that was quick to falter at the scowl on Kanda’s face. “Do you want me to leave?” Their voice was small, but he knew from experience that if he were to say yes, they would leave. They’d pout about it, but ultimately, they had been pretty good thus far when it came to respecting his space when he needed it.

“Do whatever you want.” He mumbled before shrugging out of his dirtied uniform and threw it haphazardly into the corner of his room.

The room was silent and filled with a pregnant tension as he went about changing into his sleeping clothing. He should shower, he realized. He was filthy.

In the morning. Right now, he just needed to fucking sleep.

He pulled his hair from its tail and quickly combed his fingers through it, too irritated to bother with combing it properly. Again, in the morning, he thought to himself.

When he climbed into the bed, he was quick to roll onto his side and away from his partner. They moved to snuggle up to him from behind, their chest pushing into the tensed muscles of his back. They began to run gentle fingers through his hair.

His partner didn’t say a word. They normally liked to talk so Kanda thought this strange, but was not going to complain right this second. Not even a, “Hey, how was the mission?” Complete silence. It hit Kanda then that they were being quiet and doing no more than soothingly running fingers over his head and through the tangled tresses of his dark hair for him. Fingers ghosted his scalp in their ministrations and he was quick to find his eyelids growing heavily.

“I love you.” He blurted out, his voice quiet and thick with sleepiness, his eyes already having fluttered shut. He was falling quickly into the void of sleep and wasn’t sure whether or not he had said the words out loud or if he had simply thought of them.

Behind him, his partner was grinning ear to ear.

“I love you too.” He heard before he felt lips pressing gingerly into his temple before he slipped completely unconscious.

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isthisthingeven0n · 4 years

Text

my number neighbour : part two

brief summary: after a few months of talking back and forth, it’s finally time to meet one another in person. and what a better time to meet than on new years eve in new york city?

word count: 2.4k requested: yesss by so many people! i’m so glad to continue this story :) warnings: literally none. i just love this so much

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

P A R T O N E

when this goes live i’ll be out at a party with friends so I hope you all have a wonderful new years celebrations whatever you may be doing! and thank you for such a memorable year. none of this would’ve been possible without you guys supporting and here’s to 2020 - maybe Ilya will finally notice me lmao. Love you all, stay safe. x

“Okay, so who is down for Miami?” David asks as he draws a line down the whiteboard, making a note of potential locations for everyone to go for New Year's Eve.

Looking around, David makes a note of those holding their hands up. “And those for LA?” Jason speaks up, and David copies down those names again with a small sigh.

“What about Hawaii?” Corinna suggests and a few voices cheer in agreement. “Or Vegas? New York?” Her voice pauses as she raises an eyebrow to David who clears his throat, making a small note at the bottom of the board for these new potential locations.

“Yeah, those sound good.” David mutters to himself, unable to shift his eyes from New York and it does not go unnoticed by the others.

“I think New York sounds like a good option.” Jeff states, smirking as he glances to Jason who gives him a knowing nod. “I heard there’s someone there too that would like to meet you in person.” He adds, and David smiles to himself as he continues to face the whiteboard.

Eventually, David turns around with a smaller smile. “Yeah, she, Y/n is wondering what my plans are.” David shrugs his shoulder, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal when internally, his systems starting shutting down when you asked.

“How long ago did she ask you this?” Jason questions, sitting upright as David focuses on his feet.

“About three hours ago.” David mumbles, unaware of the shared looks of excitement and adoration for his newfound interest in his number neighbour.

“Well,” Jason rises to his feet, standing beside David in front of the whiteboard. “we can’t disappoint Y/n, so those interested in going to New York?” Jason speaks up, and David lifts his eyes to see the majority of hands raised.

Jason pats David on the shoulder, trying to distract David from overthinking the fact he’ll be able to meet you at last. “New York it is.” David says with a smile as he turns around, rubbing off all the other potential locations and circles New York.

Rushing around your apartment, you kept swearing under your breath.

“What’s got you all flustered?” Nick questions as he leans against your doorframe, seeing your room having been turned upside down.

You remove your head from the dark depths of your wardrobe as you let out a long sigh. “I’m looking for this one dress. It’s that ivy lacy one, you know?”

Nick chuckles to himself, nodding. “Your slutty but not slutty dress?” He rephrases, watching as you rest your hands on your hips. “But super flattering and makes your ass look great dress?” He forces a smile, seeing you roll your eyes.

“That’d be the one.” You respond before returning to your wardrobe. “I just can’t find it!” You groan and Nick appears by your side.

“Probably because you lent it to your best friend.” He trails off as realisation hits you.

“FUCK!” You yell, collapsing down into the wardrobe in defeat. “Of course she had to go and move to Liverpool.” You shake your head, burying your fingers into your hair.

“Why’d you want the dress so bad anyway?” Nick helps you sit upright, removing you from the dangerous void your wardrobe is. You glance up at him, and watch as it clicks into place in his brain. “No,” He raises an eyebrow and your prolonged silence answers for him. “he, he’s coming to New York?!” He yells and you laugh happily.

“I think so?” You say with a hint of confusion in your tone. “Well, I invited him and his friends,”

“You invited the vlog squad?!” He yells once again, gripping your shoulders tightly. “If you don’t get me a chance with Corinna or Zane I’ll move out.”

You roll your eyes. “You have such a varied taste, Nick.” You joke, ignoring his rambles of how perfect he’d be for any of his friends. “But, he didn’t respond about it yet.” You add, and Nick’s shoulders drop in disappointment.

“He’s missing out if he doesn’t come. New Year’s at ours beats any shitty attempt LA has to offer.” He speaks proudly, ignoring the look you give him.

“Nick, you passed out two minutes after midnight and barely remember any of the party.” You remind him, chuckling as he glares over jokingly.

“Well, I’d remember more if David came so I could finally meet the guy who has you digging up a dress you’ve not worn in two years.” He states and you can’t argue back, knowing it’s true.

You didn’t intend for this to happen, but when you first FaceTimed him, he seemed like a genuinely sweet person. He was kinda shy which you liked, but as your conversation went on the more grounded you both felt talking to one another.

Since the first FaceTime you two had, it became almost daily. Eventually, he told you more about his line of work and it clicked where you knew his voice from. You introduced David to Nick, and Nick screamed down the phone which made you laugh hysterically. Since then, Nick has been a cocktail of love, support and amazement that your number neighbour is David Dobrik.

The sound of your phone pinging made your ears perk up as you resurfaced from old jumpers and darted for your phone.

You manage to narrowly beat Nick, and you squeal as you read David’s message.

“Well?” Nick asks eagerly as you type a response before turning back to face your flatmate.

“We’ve got just over a week to find me a new dress.” You say with a smile as you laugh, feeling Nick lift you off the ground as he hugs you tightly.

Fidgeting, you’re barely able to stand still as guests start arriving. You agreed to take a few shots with Nick to help your nerves, but your body seems immune to anything besides growing anxieties.

“Hey, he’ll be here soon.” Nick smiles softly to you and you nod in response, knowing if David would cancel, he’d have the decency to message you first.

A loud knock starts on the front door, and you remain blissfully ignorant as you stand with your back turned, talking to some old friends.

“I gotta admit, I blacked out last year.” One friend tells you, causing you to laugh remembering the whole ordeal.

Sipping your drink, you shake your head. “You and Nick were clearly shot buddies last year then.” You say, watching as she retells the events she can remember, hoping to not repeat them tonight.

As your friend reminisces on 2018 New Years Eve, Nick opens the front door to see David stood with a bright smile and camera in hand.

“Holy fuck.” Nick mutters as David chuckles.

“Hey, Nick.” David speaks up and Nick stutters over his own breath. “I brought some friends with me. This is Zane, Carly, Corinna, Matt and Jeff.”

Everyone waves politely as Nick barely manages to raise his hand to wave back. “It’s good to meet you guys.” Nick manages to force his words out, oblivious to David’s eyes darting around the room in search of you.

“Can we come in?” Corinna speaks up, smiling to Nick who chuckles under his breath before moving aside.

Across the room, your friend's attention is immediately diverted. “Hold on,” She holds your arm, staring straight past you. “you never mentioned him bringing hot friends.” She says with a humourous scoff as you remain cemented on the spot, too afraid to turn around.

“She’s just over there,” Nick moves to stand by David, able to fully compose himself. “you can’t miss her, she’s a stunner in that red dress.” Nick comments with a slight wink as David smiles.

“Thanks, Nick.” David says before Nick walks off in search of Corinna to try and swoon.

Taking a deep breath, David pushes back all the nerves that have built up over the past week. Now is his chance, he flew to come see you, just you. After all this time this is the moment he’s been waiting for since you replied to that first dumb message. Yet, it feels fake, but for once it isn’t a prank.

Walking toward you, David watches as you begin to turn around.

Mentally, you were psyching yourself up for the moment, not sure what to expect.

Neither of you was aware of the eyes pausing, having heard the stories about you two - the number neighbours whose friendship has the potential to blossom. You were the Twitter thread’s idea of fate working its magic.

Facing him, you opened your mouth to speak, but David mirrored your exact actions. “I, erm, hi.” You manage to force the words out, glancing out of the corner of your eye to see Nick facepalm.

David chuckles softly, realising you’re even cuter in person. “Hi, Y/n.” He says softly before bringing you into a hug.

Being in his arms, you began to relax your body from the tension you were holding in. It was comfortable, it felt right being close to him after almost two months of speaking through a screen.

“Oh my god if they don’t end up together I’m going to scream.” Carly comments as the others nod in agreement as you two walk-off elsewhere in the apartment, engaged in conversation.

Whilst talking to one another, hours passed by like minutes. You felt like you had known him your entire life, and the feeling was evidently mutual.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here.” You repeat for the tenth time, and despite your nerves having died down, there is still a small part of your system that is in a permanent state of shock.

His hand slipping down toward yours, David smiles to himself as you intertwine your fingers with his. “I’m glad you invited me. Otherwise, I’d most likely be in some bar in Vegas.” He comments, hearing you scoff lightly.

“How painful that would’ve been for you, Dave.” You joke, hearing him laugh in response.

“So painful. Having to accept free drinks and see Zane drunk,” David sighs heavily. “it’s a hard life.” He comments with a shrug of his shoulder before returning his attention back to you. “But I’m really glad to be here, really.” He squeezes your hand lightly, watching as a smile ghosts your lips playfully.

“I’m glad you came. I mean, I knew we’d meet eventually but, but I’m glad you came for New Years.” You lean against the kitchen counter, looking out from your windows at the hectic citizens thriving below.

David focuses on the features he couldn’t see crisply on video or through photos. He couldn’t see the small dimples or freckles dotted across your face. The iPhone camera never did you the full justice, you’re more beautiful in person than he could’ve anticipated.

“Well, if it means one less single for 2020, I’m all for it.” He comments but as he listens to the words leaving his lips, your hand drops from his. “Wait, I, I meant,” He rambles, but you shake your head.

“I didn’t wanna assume,” You start, both of you stuttering and struggling to find the right words.

“Oh god,” Corinna cringes, looking up to Nick who winces at the sight. “they’re hopeless.”

Nick rests his hand on Corinna’s shoulder for a second, a lightbulb moment occurring. “I’ve got an idea.” He says with a smile. “With Y/n, actions speak louder than words.” He states, glancing to his phone to see the time. “The countdown will start any minute.”

Moving through everyone at the party, Nick walks toward the pair of you. “Oh, hey Nick.” You welcome the interruption, breaking the awkward silence between you and David.

“Hey Y/n, David.” He says with a smile. “Okay, everybody!” Nick claps, offering his hand to you to join him on the kitchen counter.

As you stand beside him, David moves back into the crowd, finding Jeff who looks at him with excitement, only to see it quickly fade. “What happened, dude?” Jeff questions, seeing David looking like a lost puppy.

“I think I fucked it up.” David states, sighing heavily.

“I’m sure you didn’t, David.” Jeff says, patting his back lightly. “I mean, look at her, she can barely take her eyes off of you.” Jeff mutters, motioning up to you as you desperately try to not stare at him.

“So, it’s nearly midnight so everyone pair up!” Nick cheers and everyone rummages through the crowd whilst David nears you, helping you down.

His hands rest on your waist. “I, have you got a kiss at midnight?” David questions, slowly feeling his sense of confidence return around you as you smile to him.

“Is this your way of asking me, Dobrik?” You ask in return.

“If you say yes, that is.” He retorts playfully, watching as you nod.

“I’d love to.” You tell him before moving into the crowd as the countdown begins.

One minute left of 2019, of the decade.

“Do you feel like it’s been worth it?” David turns to face you, wanting to drown out everyone else and focus just on you. “Do, do you regret answering my dumb message when I sent it?”

You scrunch your eyebrows together. “Of course not.” You say as if it were obvious. “You, you coming into my life happened at an almost perfect time. I, I secretly look forward to our calls, knowing you will find a way to make me laugh at something stupid.” You ramble, feeling your heart hammering against your chest.

“After tonight, would you like to go on a date with me?” He questions, but the one thing he’s been wanting to ask you all night is drowned out by the countdown.

“THREE, TWO ONE.”

As everyone reaches one, you rest your hands on David’s cheeks, pulling him closer into you.

The sound of cheers and confetti surrounds you as David deepens the kiss, his arms resting on your wait pulling you closer.

“Happy new year love birds.” Nick yells to you both as you pull away, smiling like idiots.

“Hey, Dave?” You ask, looking up at him. “I’d love to go on a date.” You reply, before kissing him softly. “Happy new year.”

The rest of his friends walk over, joining in the celebrations as the party continues.

But all David can think about is how grateful he is to some dumb trend on Twitter, that he’s able to start a new year with you.

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laineybug04 · 4 years

Text

A Helping Hand

Amy has a hard time being taken seriously after Chaos destroyed Station Square. So when she has a vision of a boy stuck in a capsule who may be the key to Eggman's next big scheme, no one is willing to listen or help her. Determined to help save the day this time, Amy strikes out on her own to save the mysterious black hedgehog from her dreams

Chapter 1- Next Chapter

I saw this concept while browsing tumblr. Special thanks to mewmewhakusho and another-sonic-blog for letting me play around with this idea. I've been a Shad/Amy shipper for YEARS and I've never seen this idea play out before. Here's my take.

Extra special thanks to Nothin' Fancy for beta reading for me once again!

Visions of Grandeur

A delicate white-gloved hand hovered over a deck of cards spread in an arc on a table covered in red lace. The cards were shiny and looked almost brand new. Amy knew better- they were a family heirloom passed down from generation to generation for hundreds of years. If her mother was to be believed, they were almost as old as the chaos emeralds! The candle sat to the right of the cards- its flickering light dancing against the shadows, causing the patterns on the cards to sway with them.

A young pink hedgehog stared with green eyes bright from excitement, and glowed in contrast to the dark, ominous mist which surrounded her. The mist was thick with sinister whispers, yet the girl hardly heard or cared to listen. Her anticipation at what was in store trumped any caution she may have had.

She greedily took three cards from the deck and laid them hastily but neatly in front of her. One straight horizontal line that would reveal her destiny. Her hands gently laid them perfectly straight, over the first to the left that represented the past that she needed to know. She continued over the present that the unknown past had affected. Finally she caressed the final one on the right- the future! She twirled in place, her joy was just too much! Sure the last one tended to be fuzzy, but she could usually guess based on the first two, so it was mostly just to complete the rule of three.

Amy Rose was no stranger to tarot readings, in fact she had even used them to find out how to be with her hero, Sonic! They'd shown her Little Planet, where Sonic had bravely saved her life. They'd shown her future- a life of adventure, thrill, new friends and becoming a hero alongside her Sonic in their fight against the old, and nasty, Dr. Eggman.

A gleeful smile took over as she imagined what the cards would show her now! Their first date? Kiss? Wedding day? THEIR CHILDREN? She giggled in sheer delight at the prospects of her happy future. But even as her heart pounded, demanding she quickly reveal her fate, she took a shaky breath to calm her nerves. She wanted to retain some adult-like dignity- this was her future after all! Amy steadied her hand, and flipped over the first card on the left.

The shadowy mist that surrounded her table converged on her and turned to an unforgiving steel color. Her smile faded and her happiness ebbed away- the past was almost never this cryptic. Not unless something horrible had happened. She searched through the fog but only found a large window with thick glass and a foggy reflection. Immediately her heart began to thump painfully, and so quickly, she felt it could give Sonic a run for his money. She pressed her hand to the cold glass and listened to the horrors going on behind her. She heard screaming, gun-shots, and shouted orders over stomping boots. When she inhaled, her nose was assaulted with an unfamiliar scent, it was a sharp coppery smell, with a dark, burnt undertone to it. Her whole body hummed with fear and hopelessness, a heavy weight of despair pressed down on her from all sides.

Amy tried to breathe, and her throat seized, so desperate to help, but with no way to know what was wrong, she floundered. Even in a lucid dream, it was so hard to make out the view behind the glass. It was blurred at first, but as she strained her eyes, she started to make out small white dots within a deep velvety black. The sounds behind her muted slightly as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. And then she realized, she was staring out into the void of space. She looked down, and to her despair, she saw her beautiful home planet of Mobius being drenched in blood that was flowing from the window.

She stared on in horror- she had no way to fix this. Worse still, she hadn't seen Sonic, or really anyone who could help her. She turned back into the fog, trying to see something, anything that the fog could show her how to stop the blood. She searched but still saw nothing and only heard the same conniving whispers under the sounds of the invaders. She growled in frustration and just jumped into the fog. She cried out, "Where are you!? Please, I can-"

She heard a gunshot, one that was louder than the rest, almost as though it was by her head. That wasn't what stopped her in her tracks. No- it was a scream that was so broken and filled with such heartbreak that she'd never heard in her life. The voice was young, maybe only a few years older than her, and it was deep and gravely with fear. Tears burst from her eyes as her heart broke from the anguish in his scream.

"MARIA!"

Amy could feel herself being pulled back out of the dream but she fought it, bringing herself back to the table and looking at the face of the card. She rolled her eyes, she should have known- Eggman's emblem was plastered over the dark background of space- it's eyes bleeding down to the earth below.

"The Death Egg," she decided, shaking her head, "Like that's a big surprise."

Still, her whole body shook. She knew the terrors Eggman had brought onto the world- the Great War between mobians and humans had been unkind to both sides. Eggman, specifically, had chosen himself over either side. It was only recently that Princess Sally and King Nigel had reached out and cultivated a more friendly relationship with them. But the history between the two people was still painful. Even with Eggman as a common enemy...

"I wonder if the United Federation will be involved," she murmured cryptically.

She glared skeptically at the second card, her excitement from earlier had been murdered and thrown out into a ditch. Now she was hesitant to see what else these cards had in store for her. Her frown deepened and she squared her shoulders- she knew how her tarot worked. It would not show her the past unless it was going to have a huge impact on the unseen present.

Amy flipped the card.

This time the mist retreated entirely and she found herself deep in the heart of a jungle. Lush greenery surrounded her, and the warm, tropical wind rushed around her, making the leaves rustle in a soothing lullaby. Her head bent backwards and she saw small twinkles of the afternoon sky between the gaps in the thick canopy above. Her eyes closed for a moment, as she felt peace enter her troubled heart and chase away the horror from the previous vision. She took a deep breath, allowing the damp, warm air to embrace her. She felt light, joyful, and her feet started to move in rhythm with her happiness. As she twirled, her eyes caught the glimmer of gun-metal that froze her heart.

She fell before she could get a better look at it.

A gasp ripped out of her throat as she fell into darkness, but then there was a glow of harsh chalk on a concrete background, 'Was that red chalk?'.

Her fall slowed to a stop before she hit the ground and the writing on the wall was gone. Before her was what looked like some medical, mechanical monstrosity. She looked around to try and get a grip on where she was, but found only more rusted metal, abused cables, and neglected machinery around her. She looked up and saw the ceiling so far ahead, she wondered if she wouldn't die from the fall, normally. The walls were an uninteresting metal grey, and Amy decided to move her attention back to the console in the middle of the room.

As she got closer, she found the thing was so old and covered with dust, she couldn't quite see into the capsule. But she could see the outline of someone inside. She rubbed at the glass desperately, calling out to them. She let out a frustrated huff when she couldn't get them to respond. Instead she made her way to the console attached to it. She ran her hands over the dusty console and saw four buttons specifically that glowed through the dust on them.

"A... R...I...M..." Amy read out loud, "Arim?"

The scream from earlier ripped into the forefront of her mind and she realized the 'A' key had been pressed twice. She looked on in the capsule in sadness, "Are you Maria?"

The capsule pulsed, not in assent, but in Anger. Red mist seeped from the cracks in the capsule and the walls echoed a scream that was much older than the one she'd heard before. This was the roar of an older man- not a child like before. But before she found herself back in the room with the red table, she felt the room ring with a terrible, evil laugh- very much like the one she'd heard come out of Eggman before.

When she was back in the red room, she looked down at the card. It showed multiple strings of chains, some an old, but strong metal and others almost see-through. They were wrapped around a black arm that clung to them so tightly they practically bit into the skin. Over all of the chains was stamped what she recognized as Eggman's insignia. She scoffed in annoyance and confusion, "What the heck is Eggman up to this time?"

A small, scared part of her wondered if it would be worse than what had happened with Chaos and Station Square. Using a literal god of destruction hadn't been enough to take Sonic down. What else was that crazy old doctor willing to do in order to win against the Hero of Mobius?

Her jaw set as she looked at the final card on the table. She knew she wasn't going to get too many answers from it- the future was never truly set in stone after all. This time the main character of the cards was not Sonic or her, but Eggman. She was worried about what the future may hold, but she shook her head. Amy still had no idea what Eggman was up to and she knew she couldn't leave here without at least a tiny clue about what he was up to.

She flipped the card.

Now she was in a new, dark room. The walls were scrawled with the same crazed red chalk she'd seen earlier that seemed to pulsate with malicious intent. In the center of the room sat a lone black hedgehog, curled into a ball with his hands over his ears.

"Hey!" she called out as she ran to his side, "Are you okay?"

The ball unfurled and was on its feet so quickly Amy gasped in surprise. The hedgehog twisted around to face her and Amy was struck by what she saw.

There were dark red streaks in his fur that matched the writing on the wall and his wide eyes. A snarl twitched on his lips as his white gloved fists clenched at his sides, ready for a fight. The white puff over his heart heaved with his labored breathing. To anyone else, this creature would be terrifying. Who on earth had naturally red eyes that seemed to permanently glare into your soul? However, Amy's heart broke for him- the hedgehog was barely out of boyhood, almost Sonic's age, chained to the floor of the room by his wrists and ankles.

"Here," she reached out gently, "Let me help you."

The hedgehog's eyes widened in surprise and he seemed to lean forward for a brief moment. But the next second his sneer deepened and he swung his arms out, "Don't touch me. This is where I belong!"

Amy looked around incredulously before shooting him her own shocked look, "You... don't look happy being here."

"Tch," he scoffed as he folded his arms, "It's not about happiness. It's about what they deserve. What I deserve."

Now the walls seeped with a red mist that the boy was starting to choke on and walls rumbled ominously. Still she stared on at the shadowed hedgehog in front of her and all she could think about was how to get them out of there. She reached into her pockets and was amazed and elated to feel her fingers brush against the cold, metal shape of a key. Amy smiled- she knew this was the key to the hedgehog's chains.

"Nobody belongs in a place like this," she called out in spite of the poison surrounding them, "Come on! Just give me your hand and we can get out of here."

The boy growled and lashed out with the chains, "I said NO!"

Amy dodged the chains and now she was angry, "Stop being silly! This place is going to kill you!"

"You're too weak to stop it!" he growled out, his sneer turning into a soft but cruel smile, "You're pathetic!"

Now Amy's cheeks puffed out in rage. She clenched the key in her hands and she lunged for the hedgehog, "I'LL SHOW YOU WEAK!"

She was pinned to the ground before she'd reached him. As the hedgehog stood over her, holding her down by her throat and his other arm pressing down on her chest, the room began to collapse around them. The mist surrounded them and was only pierced by the glow of seven bright lights that circled around them ominously. The boy's red markings faded into a shadowy mist and his whole body blurred into a vague black monster that held her down and kept her from breathing. As the world faded around her, Amy saw the final card float in front of her- the earth and moon shattered against the backdrop of space.

She heard a sad sigh reverberate in her mind...

Amy found herself on her back, in her bed, with the shadow creature still trying to choke her.

She groaned lowly in frustration. This creature was not the same boy she was trying to save in her vision but some vague dark monster that would try to "choke" her while she woke from her lucid dreams.

"Ugh," she thought as she began to hold her breath, "Sleep paralysis. My favorite."

Amy held her breath for what felt like forever- even as her body shook with desperation and fear of the monster in front of her, she knew there was only one way to escape the beast. She waited as her body slowly woke from the hell, first with tingling sensations in her toes. It was not a pleasant feeling, it felt like tiny, heated needles poking into the pores of her skin. It slowly gravitated up her legs and when she attempted to move her feet to quicken the process, she found she couldn't move them.

Maybe twenty seconds later she finally felt herself wake up and she shot up from her bed with a gasp. After several harrowing seconds of catching her breath she searched the room for the shadow demon from earlier. Only when she found no signs of it did she rest her head in her hands with a groan. Normally she loved being able to consult her tarot cards, even if it always ended in her being caught in sleep paralysis. They tended to show her premonitions of hope, happiness and adventure!

Tonight though...

Amy shook her head, she knew she wouldn't get another wink of sleep tonight. She turned to the window and saw the soft light of the night just before dawn. Amy heaved a large yawn and got up anyway. She dressed in her signature red dress in the dark of her small windowed tent, bemoaning the loss of her apartment six months earlier. As she picked up a bucket from the corner of her room she dreamed about the running water she used to enjoy. She walked out into the pre-dawn landscape, swinging her bucket despite her conflicted mind and got ready for the day.

She walked out into the cleared ruins of the outskirts of Station Square. As desolate as the area was, she couldn't help but give a small smile. The tents each represented at least one person from Knothole Village who chose to help in rebuilding Station Square. At a glance, Amy counted well over three dozen tents- almost a third of the population of Knothole. Amy scanned the horizon- the work on the city was slow going but it was coming along. The water had been completely drained since about a month after the god, Chaos, had wreaked havoc to the city and the buildings were now mostly safely demolished. Despite the devastation, the Mobians were determined to help rebuild what the human's had lost to be better and stronger than before.

"Not to mention learning more about human building techniques," Amy thought with an eye roll. She'd overheard Sally bring that up at the beginning of the rebuilding project. She couldn't argue with how smart it was, and it had gotten so many more volunteers out. Amy couldn't help but feel a bit leery at the phrasing, however, "It's like people can't just help because they can."

Speaking of helping, as Amy filled her bucket from the well- a mechanical marvel very unlike the traditional wells they'd had to use in the past- she couldn't help but think back to the poor boy she'd tried to save in her dream.

"I wonder what Eggman wants with him," she murmured under her breath, "And why he's okay with it...

"If he was okay with it," she corrected herself, a sad weight clutching her heart, "What was that writing on the wall, anyway. Part of the curse...?"

"Hun?"

"I wonder if those lights were the chaos emeralds," she continued to mutter under breath with a shrug, "Wouldn't surprise me if they were involved, somehow."

"Rosie!"

"There's always got to be some sort of magic when it comes to Eggman," she sighed as she stretched her neck mindlessly, "For a mechanical genius, he sure relies on the supernatural a LOT."

"Amy!"

Amy was pulled out of her reverie and shrieked when she saw her bucket was overflowing and she was wasting so much water. She scrambled to shut the water off and turned apologetically towards the person behind her.

Bunnie Rabbot looked on at Amy with a concerned raised brow over sharp green eyes, one mechanical hand resting on her hip and the other holding her bucket. One mechanical foot tapped methodically against the silence before she pointed to Amy with her good arm. But before she could say anything, Amy gave a little chuckle,

"Hey... Bunnie!" Amy smiled sheepishly, "Sorry, I got a bit distracted."

"Y'all right, there Rosie Cheeks? It's awful early in the morning for you to be up. You sleep alright?"

Amy stood aside to let Bunnie get her water before shaking her hand in a 'so-so' motion, "Could have been better. I... I drew my cards today"

Again, Bunnie raised her brow, "Drew your cards? That a Station Square sayin'?"

Amy shot her a deadpan look, "My tarot cards? The ones I used to find Sonic? The ones that told me to move to Station Square?"

"Right, right. Sorry Rosie-Cheeks, I forgot," Bunnie shut off the water and gave her own sheepish look, "My stahs, I've been runnin' mahself ragged out here. 'Tween helping Sugah 'Twan with the soup kitchen and the main construction site I've been getting pulled in all sorts a ways..."

She giggled but then blanched at her joke, "Don't read too far into that, I shouldn'ta said that..."

Amy rolled her eyes- at twelve years old, she was way too used to hearing the older crowd telling her what she should or shouldn't hear, "Sure... anyway... have you heard anything about where Sonic is? I need to talk to him about what I saw."

Bunnie winced with a small sympathetic hiss, "Ah'm sorry, hun, but Sugah Hog left to go chase a rumor about Doctor Eggman. He left a while ago for Oil Ocean Zone just a few minutes ago..."

Amy's cheeks puffed out and her hands found her hips, "UGH, SERIOUSLY!? He didn't even say goodbye?!"

Bunnie sighed, "Ah'm sure if you called him he'd answer. Or you could talk to Sally..."

Amy's arms crossed and she scoffed, "Please, he never answers his calls. And Sally's been too busy rubbing elbows with the President. Rotor and NICOLE don't believe in my 'mumbo jumbo' and Tails has been loosing it over his stupid project..."

"Now, Amy," Bunnie chided while picking up her bucket and pointing at Amy in a scolding manner, "He helped save the city from Doctor Eggman, too, you know. He deserves a rest..."

"He isn't resting though!" Amy cried, "And I helped save the city too!"

"Of course you did, Rosie-Cheeks. Takin' down that Zero fella really took a lot outta you... but, we're all doing our part," Bunnie chided dismissively, "Look... I get that you had a bad dream..."

"Vision."

"Yea... that," Bunnie took a deep breath, "If it's that important to you I can listen for a bit. I don't need to check into the kitchens for a while..."

Amy stared her down in frustration before she sighed, "Yea... okay... So you know how Tarot readings usually include a past, present, and future card?"

"Can't say I do, but I believe you!"

"Okay... Anyway, the past card had me in space and... I think it was another Death Egg."

Bunnie gasped, "You don't say..."

Amy nodded, "So at first I thought Eggman was hiding in space, but that's in the past. So the present one had me in a jungle and I dropped into a cave with really creepy red writing on the walls and I thought maybe that's where Eggman is hiding."

"Right, okay..."

"But the last card, the future card, didn't have anything to do with Eggman at all!" Amy ranted, "It was a black hedgehog... I think Eggman's going to use him for something really bad..."

"Oh, really? Who was the hedgehog?"

Amy shrugged, "I don't know. I've never seen a hedgehog with red tiger stripes in their quills like that, and the way his quills bent is like I've never seen before... and his eyes... he looked so angry and sad..."

Now Bunnie gave a knowing smile, "Well I'll be, I never thought it'd happen!"

Amy shot her a confused look, "What?"

"I didn't think you'd get over Sonic so quickly, Rosie-Cheeks!"

Amy's eyes widened, "Weren't you listening? This isn't about him!"

Bunnie rolled her eyes, "Sure it isn't. Look, hun, I don't think it's about Eggman. AH think, yer getting a lil crush on someone else and you're feel'n guilty 'bout leaving Sonic behind..."

"But I'm not..."

"And y'all shouldn't!" Bunnie put her bucket down and grabbed Amy by the shoulders gently, "Yer growing up now and that comes with a lot-ah complicated feelings. It's okay ta look a lil closer and see what happens! Don't ya feel bad about chasin' yer happiness Rosie-Cheeks! Yer still so young. Don' be afraid ta go chat up your lil friend when you see him 'round the camp again. I'm sure he'd really like a nice chat with a cute lil lady such as yerself!"

"But I haven't even... I don't have any..." Amy, enraged, stumbled over her words, "You're not even listening to me!"

"Aw, Ah'm sorry I couldn't help you more sweetheart," Bunnie said glumly before gasping, "Oh, I gotta go! Sugah 'Twan's waitin' on me and I still haven't gotten myself presentable yet!"

Amy huffed and sputtered as Bunnie waved goodbye and called out, "Go talk to Sally-girl if you need more help! She'll help y'all with your new boyfriend!."

Amy shook with frustration and her cheeks burned red-hot. She gave a growling shriek and kicked her bucket of water over. Too late, she realized she would have to wait in a now much longer line for water to brush her teeth and wash her hands. As she grumbled under her breath over not being taken seriously, again, she resigned herself to a long drive to Central City and a meeting with one Princess Sally Acorn.

White House-Central City, United Federation

10:16

Amy's mood had not gotten any better after her journey to Central City. Not that she was surprised, she'd had to walk the entire way to the other city because the buses to the other cities wouldn't let her on without permission from her mommy.

Amy growled in her seat in the waiting room of the White House, practically grinding her teeth down to the root. While she'd only been there a grand total of ten minutes, each moment seemed to tick by at a snail's pace and she was left consumed in such an angry aura that no one wanted to be anywhere near her.

"I swear, if Sally keeps me waiting just one second more, this whole house is going to be nothing but rubble when I'm done with it!"

"Miss?"

Amy's eyes shot the older human man, who dared to interrupt her incensed thoughts, with such a withering look she made the rest of his group flinch in fear. She was both angered and relieved to see the older gentleman was entirely unphased by this and even seemed mildly amused by her pouting.

Amy took a deep breath to reign in her temper, but her voice still came out curtly, "Yea, what do you want?"

The man raised one brow and replied, "I was hoping to ask you the same question. Are you lost?"

Amy's pout deepened but rather than give into her rising rage, she smoothed out her dress and held her nose up at him with an air of importance, "I'm waiting to see Princess Sally Acorn. I have important information about Dr. Eggman's whereabouts that I need to share with her."

Amy raised her eyes smugly to him, only to see that man's eyes widen only ever so slightly. She was even more infuriated when he folded his hands behind his back and leveled her with a condescending look, "Oh? That's odd. We've just gotten very reliable intel on his location. I imagine you've done your own well-founded research to come to your conclusions?"

Amy's cheeks puffed out. To be honest, she didn't have a reliable source and all she really had to go on was a jungle...

But her heart never steered her wrong- she knew she had to talk to Sally as soon as she could, "Call it a woman's intuition. I need to talk to her. Tell her it's Amy Rose."

His brows crinkled slightly and Amy was struck by the man's eyes. She'd never seen eyes that were different colors- one green, one brown. Something stirred in her heart and told her to be kinder to him. She took in his clothes- a deep green, almost black military jacket with matching slacks and the shiniest black shoes Amy had ever seen. Two stripes over his left breast pocket and the numerous medals put him high in the chain of command, although Amy had no clue where exactly. He was conspicuously missing a name tag on his uniform- a bit annoying but then she could always ask.

Finally the man offered a kind smile, "I recognize you now- you were with the princess upon her arrival a few months ago. I'm on my way to a meeting with her and the President. I'm sure we can spare a few moments for you two to... have a little chat before our meeting..."

If looks could kill, the old man would have keeled over from the terrifying glare she shot his way. He had turned and began to walk away by the time she took a few deep breaths and began to follow him. Slowly but surely, she soothed her irritation as they briskly strolled through the winding corridors of the mansion. Through it all, a persistent feeling thumped in her chest- a sort of deja vu that refused to let her go. Finally she turned to the old man, "I'm... sorry, I never got your name."

"Lieutenant Commander Towers," The man said with a restrained smile, "I'm with the G.U.N."

"...The...?"

"The Guardian Unit of Nations," he answered, "We oversee the defense of the United Federation against her enemies."

Amy frowned in confusion- the feeling of deja vu was just getting stronger, "...Did you... fight in the Great War at all? I feel like I know you from somewhere..."

The man stopped in his tracks and eyed her with concern, "Did you?"

Amy shook her head, "I was only three when Eggman took over. My parents did. Sorry, I thought I'd maybe seen you or your name in one of the old history books. It's starting to bug me, actually."

The man sized her up and Amy couldn't help but straighten her back and face him head on. For all that he'd made a poor impression, Amy still wanted to measure up. Finally, he offered a sad smile and a nod, "We're almost there, right this way."

He moved, and Amy was immediately gripped by tunnel vision. Her eyes honed in on a map of what she presumed to be the entirety of the United Federation from the Western shores of Soleanna to the Eastern most tip of Chun-An up to Holoska and down all the way to the most Southern edge of Mazuri. Amy scrambled to get a closer look at the map and zone in immediately on a tiny spot of an island almost 100 miles off the coast of the Mystic Ruins. Amy was just taking in the latitude and longitude of the island when the man came up ever so silently behind her, "Ms. Rose? Something the matter?"

Amy pointed to the island immediately, "Does this island have a jungle on it?"

The man frowned in confusion before deciding to humor her. His face quickly hardened then smoothed over when he had a moment to realize what island she was talking about. Despite his brief unrest, his voice was smooth and seemingly unconcerned, "I couldn't say- I've never been."

Amy huffed then gave a small determined grin, "It's off the coast of the Mystic Ruins... it has to."

The man shrugged, "I believe you. Now, if you'll follow me, I believe you have important information to share?"

Amy pouted and folded her arms over her chest, "Yea, yea, I'm coming, Abe..."

Now the man froze completely and halted Amy with a look that was both highly suspicious and entirely ill at ease, "What did you just call me?"

Before Amy could answer, someone called from around the corner, "Lieutenant Commander! There you are!"

They both turned to see a broad, stout man with an impressive beard in a similar military outfit to Towers. He clapped the tall, lanky Towers on the back and started to guide him away, "Abraham, you won't believe the progress the young princess has made in her little country, and so close to enemy lines! My dear, Knothole village has been in very impressive hands!"

"Thank you, Commander Thunderstrike," Amy heard the smooth, but very tired tones of Sally's voice and her heart lifted in relief, "That is very high praise coming from..."

She turned the corner and her eyes widened in surprise, "Amy! What are you doing here?"

If Amy had been the type to look before she leapt, she would have seen Sally was in no position to entertain any surprises. The princess looked tired, her hair, while not technically out of place, was drooping. It was clear to almost everyone that Sally had been in the middle of meetings with barely a chance to change clothes before the next stage of plans. All for the sake of having a mutually beneficial relationship with the humans that the mobians hadn't seen in literal centuries. It was clear that such lofty goals bore a heavy price. As determined as Princess Sally was, she was at the edge of her good graces.

It was a shame Amy caught none of this. She pointed immediately to the map, "I know where Eggman's hiding!"

Sally frowned in confusion while Amy lunged towards her and grabbed Sally's hand. The Commander and Towers looked on as Amy dragged Sally to the map.

"Oh? Do you, young lady?" Now the Commander turned his amused gaze to Sally, "Another savant in your entourage? Wonders never cease with you young critters, isn't that right Towers?"

Towers only gave an uneasy nod as Amy pointed to the island she'd been so fixated on moments before.

"There! Right there! He's on that island!"

There was a pause just before Sally gently massaged her temples and the Commander began to roar with laughter, "Oh, there's a good one. Trust me, my dear, no one is on that island."

"I know Eggman is!" Amy retorted, "Or at the very least he plans on being there soon!"

Towers' frowned down his nose at her, "And your sources?"

"None," Sally groaned, "Amy, please. We don't have time for this. We're in the middle of planning something. Go back to Station Square. We have everything under control here."

"Sally, please, you have to believe me! Something is going on on that island and we have to send Sonic there to check it out!"

"No, we don't," Sally countered, "We know where Eggman is and he's not on some desert island-"

"Jungle island."

"-WHATEVER island in the middle of nowhere!"

"Then let me go and check it out!" Amy begged, "Please, I know I can handle it, and I can at least see what's going on!"

"Absolutely not!" The Commander thundered, "Your Highness, I can allow some modicum of freedom within the country but..."

The Commander began to stumble over his words as he realized he couldn't very well explain how he knew Eggman wasn't there in the first place. In answer to his prayers, Towers took a step forward and offered, "This is within our sphere of influence and if Ms. Rose's information is even remotely legitimate, it's worth at least a cursory investigation. Allow us to look into this on our own while we work together on our separate venture to bring Dr. Eggman to justice."

Sally sighed, "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. I appreciate your diligence and kindness in this matter. I suggest we consider this settled."

She shot Amy a look that made the pink hedgehog's blood run hot with embarrassment, "You don't believe me, do you?"

Now Sally's eyes flashed with anger and she grabbed Amy's arm roughly in turn.

"Excuse us for a moment gentleman, I'll return for the second meeting shortly," the princess said hurriedly as she dragged Amy around the corner into a room.

The room was filled with a series of maps and blueprints on it. The room had only two others in it, another tall man that Amy recognized as the President of the United Federation, and a white bat, with bright teal eyes that looked on in the barest hint of interest. Sally let go of Amy just long enough to grab a small pile of papers and slam them in front of her. Amy looked down, her heart frozen in shock as Sally revealed the pictures of a clearly reactivated Eggman base in the middle of Oil Ocean zone near Shamar. As Amy's hands gently hovered over the pictures, at one point even hovering over one of Eggman himself, Sally spoke to her in low but harsh tones.

"I understand that you want to be a Freedom Fighter. I admit we've given Tails a lot more leniency and responsibility that we've given you. And I promise once this is over we will be taking your training much more seriously than we have in the past-"

"I don't need training, I need you to listen to me!" Amy growled, "There's a boy who needs our help! A black hedgehog with red eyes!"

Sally continued unimpeded, "You're being incredibly childish and nearsighted if you really think you're the only one doing anything about all of this."

"Eggman has to be tricking you! Just let me go with them to the island and I can..."

Sally's fist clenched and she barely stopped herself from slamming it on the table. She took several deep breaths behind clasped hands before she tried again, "I believe you have visions. I believe you have insight into things that we don't. But this is hard evidence that anyone can see while yours are just vague apparitions that we can't analyze the way we can with these. There are only so many resources we can spare and frankly- I can't focus on some unknown black hedgehog, and Eggman, and rebuilding at the same time. So please… just..."

Now Sally drew close and her voice was now a harsh whisper, "Go back to Station Square. Stop throwing a tantrum and help where you're needed."

Amy stared into the cold, hard blue eyes of the princess, and she felt tears begin to burn at the corners of her eyes as she realized that once again Sally insisted on treating her like a small child. Sally put her hand on Amy's back and opened the door to the room, and with a gentle push, ushered the young girl from the room. Mortified, she saw the commanders had been right behind them, faces pale but unmoving. Amy only started down the hall when the door was closed softly behind her and she was left alone and with a pounding sense of anger and determination.

Back inside the room, Sally took several more deep breaths before she addressed the President directly, "Forgive me, sir. That was one of our trainees. She's... very excited to officially join our ranks."

As the President waved off her apologies, Sally failed to notice the stoic, almost fearful silence between the two commanders of the G.U.N and the bright, interested look of the President's mobian guest.

Mystic Ruins-Tails' workshop

15:22

Tails was in the middle of the most peaceful sleep of his life. For days before this, he'd stayed up late into the wee hours of the night- tinkering with the chaos emerald he'd been awarded for his part in saving Station Square. It was all worth it. If everything went as planned, the days of Eggman getting the jump on them or someone using the chaos emeralds for their own nefarious purposes would be a thing for the history books. He dreamed of being awarded the World Genius prize, the parades in his honor, and best of all- the thumbs up and hair ruffles he'd get from Sonic. He could practically hear the magic words come out of his mouth, "I'm proud of you, buddy!"

Just as he was about to get the key to the world and a solution to grow four, no, FIVE inches taller- he heard a frantic pounding at the door of his house. He gave a loud shriek as he was pulled from slumber and jumped from his bed. He fell, in a tangle of blankets and tails, to the floor below him. His eyes were so heavy, he could barely keep them open as he wrestled with the fabric prison that kept him from shutting the incessant pounding up. He groaned pitifully as he stumbled his way through his house and towards the door. He opened the door and was immediately blinded by the light of the summer afternoon. Tails adjusted his eyes and found, not Sonic, or a key to the world, or even a tiny emergency. To his dismay, he only found one Amy Rose at his doorstep with a wicked smile on her face and a full backpack behind her.

"Hey, Taaails... whatcha doin'?" She said in a cloying sing-song voice.

Tails glared at her pathetically before rubbing his eyes, "What'dyou wan'?" he whined.

"I need a faaavor~"

"I'm not driving you anywhere and I don't know where Sonic is," Tails quickly ground out while rubbing his poor blood-shot eyes, "Tools are over there, take whatever you want, just let me sleep and don't break anything."

Amy frowned, "You sure? I need to..."

"Please... Amy," he shot her a look that was practically in tears, he was so exhausted, "I... need to sleep. I don't even care if it's the Tornado. Just bring it back when you're done and let me sleep..."

As Tails stumbled into the wall a few times, Amy gently took him by the shoulders and guided him back to his room. Tails whined under his breath but allowed her to tuck him in and tousle his hair gently, "Sleep tight, Tails. And thanks for your help!"

Tails yawned and grumbled something under his breath before snuggling into his pillow with a smile. He was snoring by the time Amy marched back through his kitchen and into the basement area that led to his garage. She turned on the lights and was amazed by the absolute armory this kid had in his hangar. The walls cut deep into the cliff side, using the natural formation of the cliff to provide protection against the elements. Cables and rebar laced the walls from the ceiling all the way down to the water and they were lined with tables laden with gadgets, and experiments. The water, at high tide at that moment, was snaked purposefully around the machines like a moat. When she looked up to the ceiling, she saw the outlines of trapdoors that would open and lead up to the runway just outside his house. She ooh'd and aww'd over the planes for a moment before she stopped and frowned.

"These are great... but I don't know how to fly." She grumbled a little bitterly. She hadn't asked for flight training, but then Tails' hadn't either, if she remembered correctly. The empty promises of the princess, the Freedom Fighters, and even Sonic to teach her the basics mocked her at the edges of her mind.

"Why does Tails get to learn all the cool stuff? He gets to go on missions, be involved in planning… but I'm the one too young for that?" She thought, a little jealousy bubbling to the surface.

Amy shook out those miserable thoughts. Now wasn't the time to wallow in self pity or petty jealousy. She had a mission to complete. Someone had to look out for that haunted boy from her vision, and if everyone refused to help, she'd do it herself.

"Just like Birdy, and his family," she decided with a resigned nod.

She huffed in frustration but eyed the ATVs and the two cars Tails built and her frown deepened, "Those won't work..."

Her eyes feel on a three half-built boards on display over his workstation that sent her foot tapping in frustration, "I could boogie board my way there, I guess, but once I get to the island I'll be too tired to spy on Eggman!"

She pursed her lips and looked around the garage some more before she leaned against one of the cars. To her horror, the car actually started to slide. Before she could stop it, she had fallen over and the car had slipped and crashed into the moat of water around its display. She scrambled to try and get the thing back out of the water. As she pulled it back she realized that rather than sinking, the large car had started to float?

Upon closer inspection, she realized the car had a point in the front with a white bottom and bright golden yellow stripes on its sides. The seats were shaped like regular seats in a car, but the bottoms were now exposed so they could swivel and the floor was replaced with a hard wood deck. The clear black writing on the side declared this vessel to be dubbed, "The ROS Tsunami MKII". There was a lot of room to move about the cabin turned deck and Amy's smile grew brighter. She clapped and squealed with glee as she threw her bag inside and climbed aboard.

"I can't fly. But I can drive!" she crowed, "A boat can't be much different than a car! How bad could it be?"

She looked over the console and studied the buttons before her eyes fell on something that made her gasp, "A chaos emerald?"

And there it was, in all its golden yellow glory, sitting in the center console under a glass display dome that secured it into the boat. She smiled at this, "Great! No need to worry about running out of fuel! Now... where's the... AH HA!"

Amy found the button that displayed the map and fumbled through putting in the coordinates that she remembered from the map. She gave a victorious whoop as the engine roared to life and jerked towards the exit of the workshop. Her whoop turned to shrieks of fear as she barreled headlong towards a wall of rock. Just before she hit the solid wall she lunged towards the bow and summoned her hammer. She swung against the wall with all her might, opening a gaping gash that led out to the ocean. The boat sped out over the waves, leaving Amy to melt in a relieved puddle on the bow. She crawled back gingerly towards the captain's chair and practically slid into it. She wiped her brow and watched the console as it revealed the map to her destination.

"Okay... just a slight bump in the road," she murmured warily, "I can fix that when I get back. Tails never has to know. I can take some pictures, prove that Eggman is on the island, figure out what that capsule thing is and maybe find that boy stuck in the curse room! Easy as pie..."

Little did she know that pie is just... an absolute bitch and a half to make.

#Amy Rose #Shadow the Hedgehog #havenofear #Amy Rose is here!#Sonic Adventure 2 #coming of age #just a side story from One Hundred Moments #A helping Hand

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midnight-chocolate-turtle · 5 years

Text

Tongue (MikeyxReader NSFW, 18+)

ooohhh Lord my first fic...

plz excuse me throwing myself into the void 🙃

Dedicated to all the blogs who've written my favorite smuts! This fic was inspired by all of you! 🧡

Disclaimer: This is a very NSFW fanfiction of two consenting adults, if you are not 18, please do not read below the line.

It was late. You and your boyfriend, Mikey, were hanging out in the lair. Watching movies, dancing to each others playlists, and making absurd food creations in the kitchen. Neither of you had any desires to go to sleep; You both had other plans.

You were currently watching Saturday Night Live and laughing at every delivery, when Mikey walked in with a bowl of strawberries and a can of whipped cream. “Got us a treat, baby!”, he hopped down next to you, “What are we watching?”

“SNL. I totally forgot how hilarious Kristen Wiig is”, you notice the strawberries, “Will you feed me one?”, cocking your head to the side and smiling sweetly.

“Of course, Angelcakes!” He pulled out a plump, red one and squirted a large amount of whipped cream on it. You tipped your chin back and he placed the berry in your mouth, the cream spilling out from the corner of your lips. Mikey giggled, it made you laugh too. You had a feeling he did it on purpose.

He shook the can and squirted it directly in his mouth. You look back at the turtle next to you. Mikey was sitting spread-eagle with his strong arms across the top of the couch, and the bowl of strawberries in-between his legs. Right at his crotch. Hmm, you thought, This could get interesting.

With your eyes now fixed on the TV, you reach your hand over and slowly grabbed another berry. Mikey didn’t react much, but you could feel his eyes on you. A few minutes later, you went in again; This time going as deep as you could, feeling the side of the bowl. At this point, you were sure he knew what you were trying to do.

“You know, Angelcakes”, he cut the silence, “These berries and cream are really sweet, but I think I want something even more sweet.”

You faced him. He was giving his signature smile. His ‘I-Want-To-Fuck-Your-Brians-Out’ Smile™️.

“Candy?”, you teased.

He laughed. “Yes, actually. Your candy”, he moved the bowl of strawberries out of the way and leaned forward. He kissed you. With such a passion, one hand on your face bringing you closer. The feeling of Mikey’s lips on yours was intoxicating. It made you totally forgot about teasing. He laid you down on the couch, still kissing you, and used his other hand to start rubbing and squeezing up and down your body.

Then the kiss changed. Mikey pushed his tongue into your mouth, but he went slower. As if he was just savoring the feeling of you beneath him. You couldn’t handle it; You needed him now. You reached toward the waistline of his pants and tugged on them. He broke the kiss, “How about we continue this in my room, baby?”

“I’ll race you there”, you winked.

“I’ll give you a head start!”

With that said, he stood up and you hopped off the couch. Mikey was close behind as you both ran to his room, laughing the whole way. And of course he was grabbing your ass as you went up the stairs.

When you got to his room, you jumped on his bed and laid down, propped on your elbows. Mikey just stood in the doorway and admired you with the happiness smile on his face. “You’re so fucking cute, Y/N. What could I possibly do with you tonight”, he walked over to the end of the bed.

“I know where you can start”, you pulled your top off, insinuating he do the rest. So, he climbed on the bed and hovered over you. He helped your bra off and went to town on your tits. Licking and sucking on one nipple while massaging the other one. You moaned softly and stroked his head to the tail ends of his orange mask. His kissing went from your boobs, to down your stomach, and to the waistline of your pants, eventually pulling them off.

You looked down at yourself. The only thing left was your underwear and Mikey was still in his basketball shorts. You felt a little self-conscience. He must have sensed this when he said “God, you're so sexy”, with calmness, yet the most certainty in his voice.

You look at your boyfriend. He was eyeing you, but was frozen in place. Almost as if, despite the fact that you're (nearly) naked, he was the one intimidated by the situation. His uncertainty was both reassuring and entirely fucking adorable.

“I think I wanna try something new tonight”, Mikey said. “What do ya say?”, there was a hint of shyness in his words.

“Go ahead. I trust you”, you flashed a reassuring smile.

Immediately, Mikey’s lips were on yours again. So fast and full of lust. You both smiled through the kiss. His mouth went down your body once more. He pulled your underwear off and separated your thighs, squeezing and laying kisses inside them. Ever slowly going closer and closer to your core. You squirmed in anticipation.

He looked up at you. You both locked eyes before-

“Oh, my God!”

Mikey pressed his lips to your pussy. The pleasure surged through your entire body. You squeezed your eyes shut and tilted your head back, letting his do his thing. He ran his tongue up and down your slit, from your entrance to your clit. You couldn't stop the moans from escaping your lips. Despite how many other times he’s gone down on you, he always makes you melt and surrender to his mouth every time.

He brought his hands under your thighs and pushed them up, so your knees were a little closer to your chest. That’s when you felt him do something a little different with his tongue.

You felt Mikey actually try to insert his tongue into your pussy. You gasped, shocked with pleasure. You look down at him. The smug bastard was smiling, enjoying how surprised you were.

“Oh fuck, Mikey!”, you grabbed the back of his head. You two were barely five minutes in and you could already feel an orgasm rising fast. That damn tongue of his.

He continued to fuck you with his tongue while he used his thumb to suddenly rub circles on your clit. Deeply enjoying everything he was doing to you. Every thrust of his tongue, every stroke to your sensitive clit, and every sound from your lips.

You were a mess. Squirming and wriggling. Moaning and crying. He went faster.

Holy fuck.

“MIKEY!”

One final scream and you came crashing down. Eyes rolling back, mouth wide open, legs violently shaking over and over. It felt like it lasted an eternity. He kept going even after you rode out the last waves of your orgasm, moaning almost pleadingly.

You started to sit up, when Mikey said “How about you get on your hands and knees for me, Angelcakes?”

He wasn’t done with you.

You obliged, turning over. He pinched your ass cheeks; You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was smirking. Mikey wasted no time here. He quickly shoved his tongue as deep as he could in your pussy. You screamed much louder than anticipated. It was then you realized you were still recovering from your last orgasm.

He reached under and began again in rubbing circles on your clit. You were completely unable to hold back. Gripping the bedsheets tightly, you felt another one just beyond reach. You moaned in almost a begging sense, prepared for another Earth-shattering orgasm.

His soft tongue fucking you, the constant rubbing of your clit. God it was hot.

Oh fuck!

Then he pulled away. All the pleasure dissipated and turned into a knot in your lower stomach. You look over you shoulder, “M-Mikey, what the hell??”, you were out of breath.

“What’s up, Y/N?”

Oh, my fucking God, is he really doing this now?!

“Why’d you stop!?”

“Oh, I just wanted to hear what you sound like when you’re begging for me.”

“Oh, come on, Mikey!”, you didn’t want to give him what he wanted, but you were feeling pretty desperate.

“What’dya want, darlin’?”

“I-I want you to fuck me.”

“How so, Angelcakes?”

You sighed, frustrated. “I want you to make me cum with your tongue! Taste me, lick me, rub me! Stop being such a te-”

With absolutely no warning, he grabbed your ass and, once again, brought his tongue over your core. You gasped and cried out. You were already on the edge before he decided to stop, so him starting again brought you right back to that euphoric state.

♡You never really knew how he was able to simply slip his oversized tongue into you, and thrust it perfectly at your entrance, right at those bundle of nerves. Probably because he’s a mutant and his tongue is already huge. And of course, giving your clitoris plenty of attention; Rubbing it in that circular motion.

You couldn’t even think properly. The intense pleasure was clouding your better judgement. You gripped the sheets in front of you tightly. Not caring about how you were sure you heard Mikey laughing. Not caring that you begged him for more. Or that he listened to your request. Nothing else matters right now. You and Mikey are the only two people in the world, but in a few seconds your world will crash around you.

You loved your boyfriend. You loved Michelangelo.♡

“OH!”

An over-powering orgasm ripped through your entire body. It was even more powerful than the first. You buried your face into the bed and screamed. Your juices squirted out, sending even more waves of pleasure that went from your fingertips to the tips of your toes. Mikey moaned as you came on his face. He kept going. Making you feel like your orgasm would never end.

“Oh, mmph”, you mumbled as he finally finished with you. He pulled away and you felt your cum seep down your inner thighs. You turned over and laid down, unable to speak as you caught your breath. Mikey crawled up and sat next to you. A strong look of pride on his face.

“Holy shit, Mikey-”, you wished you could thank him somehow, “W-wait, what about you? Could I-”

“Me? Oh, don’t even worry about me Angelcakes, I got everything I wanted. Plus, I don’t think you have the energy right now.”

He was right. Squirting had taken all the energy out of you. Your skin was glistening lightly with sweat, your eyelashes were clumped together, and your hair had frizzed from you shaking your head so much. You cuddled into his broad chest as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you, Michelangelo.”

“I love you, too, Y/N.”

You fell asleep listening to his heartbeat.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt mikey #tmnt smut #mikey x reader #michelangelo x reader #smut #tmnt x reader #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2k14 #tmnt 2k16 #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fic #tongue #turtle in orange

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imagine-loki · 5 years

Text

Till We Meet Again

TITLE: Till We Meet Again

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 18/?

AUTHOR: marvelgirlonamarvelworld (side blog)

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki being mesmerized by a girl whose eyes remind him of the Bifrost

Imagine that Loki would visit you when you were a child, persuading you into mischief and cheering you up with his magic tricks, you assumed he was imaginary.

RATING: M

NOTES/WARNINGS: angst, whump, language, not much really. Just a transition chapter

A/N 2: Alas! a new chapter! So I decided to merge a one-shot I’ve been working on with this new chapter. Thank you all for reading!!! I deeply, truly appreciate it :’) as always, feedback’s appreciated!!

Clouds.

Alabaster gaseous matter formed with every trembling exhale. A ghastly thing that soon withered to a dark null. One which became part of the cold nothingness the fallen Icarus prince found himself surrounded by.

Cold damp stone met his aching palms. If once such low temperatures had no stir to his being, now it sent pangs and jolts through his blood. The bitter cold seeped through his pores and into his decaying soul.

The fallen prince, with his innocent eyes now bloodshot, endeavored to push himself from the damp floor yet his strengths betrayed his crippling will. Right away his torn gold-plated chest hit the cold ground as all air inside his lungs was no more.

“Allfather…” he sobbed, failing to swallow the lump, as a loose tear allied with his weakness, “Father…why have you abandoned me?” The single pearl of salt danced down his cheek while his stare remained on the black stone ground; while his hands continued to struggle to at least be on his knees. “Why…” his ghastly face contorted. Another lament betrayed his lost facade of vain and might. “Why have you left me, father? Why have you abandoned me, mother?”

His words still echoed. The resounding ‘No’ before letting go. Yes. Before letting go.

Loki had fallen. Fallen so suddenly, so haltingly, so briskly, so gracefully.

Unmade in the process, his broken body and exhausted mind traveled through space, journeyed through time.

Fell and landed on a field of cold and clouds and shadows. Of watching eyes whose bodies remained embraced by the darkness. Of distant screams and wails enticed by mistress torture.

What a misfortune.

Another moan ripped away from his throat. One which became a breath of strength to his soul.

Gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, his palms pushed his body off of the ground. Yet his arms did not move at all. Nothing happened, his body remained prostrated. Loki could not feel his limbs, could not feel the rest of his body at all. His body was numb. Dormant from the fall.

And his blue lips quivered. Trembled as a ragged wail burned his throat followed by hiccups and suffocating sucks of air. His forehead pressed against the cold stone ground. “I could have done it…I could have done it. I could have done it.”

His head remained bowed down, tears blurring and blinding his sight; facing the grim ominous dirt embodying his downfall and misery; letting loose trembling strands of coal hang and stick to his forehead while his decaying body broke in ripples of sweat that frostbit his bones.

The young prince cried, sobbed and trembled before the black starless sky; before curious eyes guarding and waiting. Fisted the dirt, tasted his own blood, heeded the distant cries and screams caressing his spine, recalled it all yet ignored it all.

“I could have done it…” his jaw clenched and ached. The pounding inside his head bloomed and magnified it all through his body.

Once again he was nothing.

Loki had no wings. No form to soar high into the night. Poor thing, they’d been clipped, plucked mercilessly. Left his bare back bleeding raw. And it would only get worse from there onward, yet he knew not of that at all.

But it mattered naught either.

For his claws remained sharp. As sharp as his silver tongue was. As swift as diamonds cutting through glass. Blood forged. Disappointment sharpened. Ready to be drawn. Anxious to slash. Hungry to bury themselves in the ferrous fine crimson wine.

For many names he’d been called. And relentless was one.

With every movement and flection, his bones trembled. With every weary heartbeat, his strength almost gave in. But now he was sat against a pillar whose tallness appeared infinite. His reddened eyes could see it all now, crystal clear and realized…death was lurking about.

His eyes drifted to the void space, deep down hoping to notice a sign. A raven flying through the gray clouds, a flash of light contrasting with the black, a shooting star…even a spark of colors resembling those of an opal though he didn’t know why.

“He…Hei…Heimdall…” Loki called upon the watcher and protector of the realm he’d known as his homeland. “Heimdall.” Hope tainted his hoarse voice. “Open the Bifrost…” another tear allied with fright and rolled down his pale sunken cheek. “If you can hear me. If you can…see me. I beg you bring forth the Bifrost.”

All noise withered down to a hum. And like a child anxiously awaiting to wish upon a rain of shooting stars, Loki continued to gaze up to the night with his heart thumping and his mind buzzing, already imaging the familiar blinding flash.

“Please…”

One heartbeat.

Two heartbeats.

Three heartbeats.

Space remained black.

“Heimdall?” His hand raised to grasp the distant night and swallowed his pride and continued to call. “Mother? Please forgive me.”

It was a matter of patience, had to wait, Loki told himself still clinging to the thinning thread. After all, he was far from home, lightyears away from all known, a million heartbeats away where he belonged.

Yet the waiting was never-ending.

Minutes lost their shape, elongated and transitioned to countless bitter cold nights.

Loki was alone, forgotten, weakened and helpless. Easy prey, the crawling thing. And he couldn’t help but squirm and weep silently from the fear.

His head remained against the pillar and wept his strength away as the shadows danced and took form. “Please…somebody…”

Oh, how he wished his seidr reserves did not empty, did not waste away in healing all that which could not be remedied. To have enough magic to create a little white bird, a beautiful rarity, to send smeared in his blood with a message within its bones. A sign, a feathered warning…to not be forgotten.

“Please,” Loki closed his eyes, already sensing foreign stares peer upon as distant bickering reached his ears. “Please. I pray to thee. Allfathers rejoicing in paradise Valhalla, have mercy on me. I beg please, hear my plea.”

Loki wished to open his eyes, desired to acknowledge his future captors stalk towards him with snarling creatures prowling beside. Yet the overbuilt exhaustion, the suffocating stillness of the disappointing nights forbade him to; the resurfacing screams and uproars of disembodied suffering voices triggered his self-preserve mode. And thus he sought refuge in his mind. Retrieved to the safe heaven where he would remain intact, safe from it all till his strengths came back.

Loki allowed himself to be carried by them, to his downfall, to his unmaking and reshape. Allowed his body to be kidnapped against his racing heart and screaming conscience. For even he obeyed his instincts, his fighting would be futile.

Yet his racing mind was quieted upon the shrieking BOOM! of thunder striking the land…

“Argh!”

Loki sat upright, mad thumping heart against the back of his wide eyes, his throat drowned in hushed sobs and hiccups. He was nothing but a trembling creature; heaving frightened to death, clinging to nothing but his deceiving head.

“Thor?” He called for his brother.

Alabaster clouds still danced about before vanishing into furniture in the blink of watery eyes. And Loki couldn’t help but shakily exhale upon realizing his conscience’s own deceivings. It had been a dream. A nightmare.

His eyes wandered on further, not trusting his own convictions, afraid this too was a dream within a dream. Though he realized he was in the same place he had been yesterday; sitting on the couch, with Luna’s sketchbook on his lap, downstairs..waiting.

Yes. Loki was truly there! The living room was where he headed after the shocking discovery; where he impatiently waited for Luna’s return yet she never did.

Oh, dear gods! He was safe, away from the gates of hell.

Dusk crept through the windows. Clouds covered the skies.

Had he really slept his day away? His floating ponder made him blink multiple times before standing and stretching. He winced at the cracks of his bones and stings on his back; the position he’d drifted to slumber wasn’t the most comfortable, and neither was Midgardian clothing.

Like muscle memory Loki flicked his hand, expecting for the light to flicker to life; completely forgetting the nothingness he’d been left with until darkness prolonged. Disdained, he pursed his lips and made his way to flick the switch on himself.

Much to his disdain, he had not much to do but continue on with the wait. It was exasperating, the silence was too loud yet too quiet at the same time. He could not leave and roam around for his only shield was this home. Step out that door and most likely he’d be detected by the world; by the Allfather if not by Heimdall. And he could not allow that. His whole plans revolved around his apparent death.

The big reveal was not due yet.

Shivers rippled through his spine, traveled through every nerve, swam away in his veins as he walked up the stairs, as the flash of his nightmare played before his glare. It was sickening to remember. A nightmare.

Now that irrational side on him lost appealing.

His limbs went limp and froze in front of Luna’s bedroom door, cursing himself between hisses and ragged breaths. Oh the grand epiphany that’d fallen upon himself. He’d been an idiot. A fool.

Snapping from his dawning, Loki pushed the door and meandered through the dark and into the bathroom.

Ah, glutton. Bit more than he could chew.

He wondered how she was. He hoped that Luna would soon return. Having her away from him made him uneasy, rendered his conscience to grow loud with reproaches and worries for failing to protect her as he’d vowed to do so if something happened.

Loki knew the apology was imminent although he’d pledged against it. Never say never, however. Should’ve known better. If Loki wished her to not leave, that was the remedy; one which was not enough. He knew Luna like the back of his hand, thus acknowledging he’d have to do much than simply ask for her pardoning.

Clothes lay neatly folded by the sink, and soon the tiled space was fogged by crystal mist from the warm artificial stream.

His built figure stood there under the warm embrace of the water, silent, glistening thus enunciating his paleness and markings; at peace yet in an anguishing haze. Loki’s mind kept dwelling between past, present, and future bearings with the scepter being a common denominator.

Yet he’d managed to bury it all, to forget in order for his nightmares to cease hunting again. It’d been nights, days, weeks since he’d dreamt a bad dream. Yet…There was no room for coincidence, no loose strings, nothing; that after discovering his scepter lay at arm’s length all ghosts from the past fluttered to life.

The soft scent of blooming flowers danced through his nostrils just as the foam on his body washed away by the clear stream. Somehow, also carrying away part of his ailing.

The artificial rain ceased. Refracting beads of water rolled through his naked chest and fell from his raven hair as a white towel covered his lower half. The cool tiles against his feet sparked goosebumps to race along his spine.

Again he walked from the light into the dark. And a sudden flash of a memory surfaced before his eyes, perhaps a second epiphany, of him as a child once frightened by the lack of light. Always seeking the comforting warmth of his mother’s arms.

Oh, how Loki missed Frigga, and wondered…was she aware of his apparent death? Had she mourned as little as the Allfather or as much as his brother had presumably done?

Funny how his fear became his comforting mantle from the scorching lights, from the true enemies disguised as lambs.

Shadows took form and elongated as Loki reached the closet and opened it. A pair of jeans and a black tee were his outfit.

He wondered now when Luna had purchased them, or to whom this changes of clothing belonged to in the past. Yet he made no fuss of it as the soft fabric slipped against his scarred flesh; unbeknownst to him, inner jealousy had already been irked by it regardless.

Trailing back to turn off the light of the bathroom, his foot stumbled against a soft surface that soon slid across the floor and laid by the doorframe. Right away his emerald glare discerned it was a book.

Surprise incarcerated his breath in the confinements of his chest as he picked up the familiar worn out hardcover and peered at it in detail. Musky green. Torn out edges. The familiarity of the runic scripture on the spine of it made his heart stop beating right before speeding mad.

Who knew of all places Loki had searched for his favourite book of spells, which he had lost years ago, he would come to find it in this home? Of all places! What were the odds?

The odds, however, were the little girl he had once befriended.

“Little thief,” Loki muttered and smiled warmly.

Meanwhile,

Somewhere in the outskirts of New York City.

“Nothing?” The sound of silence vanished by Matt’s ponder from across the table. His voice was no more than sound waves sheathed by pure boredom, and borderline exasperation intensified by the many rounds of caffeine ingested through the over twenty-four-hour fruitless searches.

“Nada,” Luna responded while rubbing her eyes and drowning out a yawn. The computer screen displayed in a hideous yellow font at the center of the screen a ‘No Match’ sign which made her mentally roll her eyes. Of course she would find nothing. Political high ends would have interest but not the guts to steal the suitcase from the tower.

“Are you sure?” He asked from across the table with his face hiding behind the laptop screen.

“Yes.” Luna groaned as the blinding white lights from the ceiling glared and reflected on the thick glass covering the wood beneath it.

Stalling while incriminating the world was easy. Annoying but easy. Mantled her with the illusion of past normalcy, a mirage of how things used to be.

No doubt Matt believed her words; although, the discrepancy he’d found her at home and not at the Tower was quite startling. All in all, on the other hand, Luna had some Loki in her, no doubt some of his trickery was bound to stick; make a fool think the sky is green when in reality…it is neither blue nor green.

“I’ve gone through every file, nothing stands out, no solid match,” Luna made eye-contact with Matt. “But I don’t doubt the possibility it might have been one of these people. I mean, if what you say is true that whatever’s inside that suitcase is worth so much…” she snorted and hand gestured to his once upon a time friend, “it could’ve been any of the people we’ve played. Any who realized they were double-crossed by us.”

“But nobody knew this intel,” Matt replied and brushed his hair back exasperatedly. “Our circle is tight, Luna. We’re a small group. And we’re running out of time.”

Her eyebrows creased and fell silent momentarily. Luna was meticulously working her angle, but Matt was no idiot. And that made the game all the more difficult.

Apparently, the so-called client/engineer had handed him a deadline. Yet Luna was more than aware it was them, the ones at the higher ranks of the chains. They were breathing down his neck.

“Hey, we’re not the only ones who play underground,” said Luna while sipping from her cold-brewed coffee before freezing her actions and quickly lowering the cup from her lips; the memory of just where she was and with whom placed her cautious side on high alert. “We’re not the only ones who break the rules to get what we want, Matt. Regardless whether it is for the good or bad.”

Luna watched as Matt scratched his chin, deep in thought while she studied his sun-kissed features.

To her, there were no indications the order to have her killed came from him. The car accident was not his doing. As belittling as it sounded in her head, the brown-eyed was no more than a pawn, a disguise. And she couldn’t help but pity the idiot.

Unbeknownst to her unconscious, she was excusing his doings against her by telling herself the retrieval of those traffic cams were just orders from above. Call it fear to loose yet another somebody or denial to acknowledge his betrayal.

A chuckle disrupted the momentary silence in the small conference room the two had been in since yesterday; catching up on things, though Luna knew it was all half-truths. His focus was now on her face whose exhaustion was reflected in the unusual paleness and clouds on her eyes.

“What is it?” He said.

“I think we’re making a big deal out of this,” Luna fiddled with the pulsing opal hanging from the delicate silver chain around her neck. As much as the thumping took her aback, for the stone had never done such thing before, she pushed the nagging thought aside. “What if it was SHIELD all along, which for some reason, moved the suitcase and we’re here like idiots searching for nonexistent ends?”

“It wasn’t them.”

Luna’s smile faded away upon the echo of an accentuated third voice in the room. And her stomach sunk as she turned to face the entrance, at the far right, where two familiar figures stood.

This wasn’t good.

This was so not good.

Luna was a gaping fish. Wide-eyed and barely mustering a stuttered ‘long time no see’ as a greeting towards the two that’d tried to take her out. The twins.

The two were a mirror with a slightly altered reflection of one another. Wanda’s expressive round eyes contrasted very much with Pietro’s downturned glare. It was one of the few differences between the twins, aside from the obvious ones such as height and dye of hair.

The hushed unintelligible whispers were soon to make themselves present as the ginger tried to glimpse inside her mind.

“Luna,” Wanda greeted her and smiled a smile which did not reach her eyes where her annoyance waltzed. “Good to see you’re back! And I still cannot read your mind…”

Pietro, on the other hand, was a stark contrast to the stiffness of his twin. Somehow he seemed laid back, more so than before; acted like one of those foolish casanovas who would oftentimes get the girl with every twirl of his boasts and jokes. Eccentric quicksilver who had once caught her eye once upon a time.

He was good at disguising his emotions.

“Luna,” Pietro grinned and winked.

Idiot, Luna thought as her eyes drifted to Matt.

“I called them in to help after the accident,” Matt explained, blatantly noticing her surprise before turning to the twins. “Please tell me something good you two.”

Matt drifted his attention to the twins who shared a serious glance between them, no words were spoken but that of their telling eyes. Such action which Luna could only define as a quirk of theirs for their silence was quite nerve-wreaking.

As if they hid something, knew something Luna was oblivious of. And in her overbearingly hyperactive and paranoid mind, their silence foretold nothing yet everything. And if it was the latter, to flee from the chaos that would ensue would be difficult.

One to three was not a good ratio.

“All we can tell you is SHIELD did not move the suitcase,” Wanda deadpanned, thus shutting any possibility to lead the search in another direction.

“How are you so sure?” Luna dumbly asked. She already knew the answer.

Wanda glanced at her with that same twinkle of annoyance towards her person. “Because I read their minds, saw them. Every single one. Even your so-called friends’.”

Luna did not know how to react. Her face could only be described as a poem whose allegory was too difficult to understand. For although she knew that’d be the ginger’s answer it still surprised her the staggering hatred dripping within her statement.

Then the shocking question Luna had failed to ask herself about the twins struck her with might: Why? Why agree to carry out the dirty work for them? Why? How grand was the reward for carrying out such a thing? Why?

Luna blinked once, twice, thrice hoping the sudden surface of anger and perplexity withered from burning her chest. “Excuse me, what?”

The jester twin standing beside the ginger huffed and chuckled, crossed his arms as those silver eyes twinkled with amusement. Pietro was reliving a memory.

“Okay,” Luna tilted her head and rested her right palm on the cold surface of the table. A nervous smile formed on her face as she tried to maintain that annoying facade of obliviousness. “Is this what you mentioned to me on our way here? That something went down over there but things got a little out of hand?”

“Yeah,” Matt nodded and gestured with his hand. “That’s what I was talking about.”

“Well, what exactly happened?” Luna questioned.

“In short…uh,” Pietro stepped in, “Matt sent us to the tower, told us the suitcase was in the lower levels, we searched…and searched and searched,“ the silver-haired pointed out, keeping count with his fingers, “and found nothing. Then Wanda decided to change tactics buuuut…”

“Please tell me you didn’t bring out the Hulk,” Luna’s eyes squinted and pursed her lips. Deep down squirming at the memory of the green giant and his eyes with a ring of scarlet. The amount of suffering, desperation, anger, and fear reflected in them haunted the corners of her memory to this day.

Luna pitied the giant as much as she feared his fury. She wondered how Bruce was doing…

“Okay. I did not think through my idea,” Wanda nodded and pursed her lips. “But I was not planning on leaving that tower without information. Now would you like to know what I saw in your friend’s head as I was searching for a lead?”

The wicked grin plastered on the witch’s face made all Luna’s hairs stand on end.

“Thor?” She mumbled. The blond’s name pierced her chest. Her truer friend. The one she betrayed far before it all had gone to hell.

And thinking about it…Luna concluded she deserved all the shit raining down on her for stabbing an individual with pure intentions.

“I…I don’t think…,” chills and sparks caressed and clawed her spine as it planted the seed of discord; the bloom of curiosity.

“Or I can show them to you,” Wanda offered with a twinkle in her eyes as the familiar murmurs in Luna’s head took force. “See for yourself his fears.”

To lose you, his friend. Oh, and how much jealousy! To see you have no eyes for him!

Luna closed her eyes and sighed, holding back, hiding it all in the depths of herself. Yet the pangs and clenches of her heart made swallowing the lump of guilt painstakingly difficult. And it was no help the ire of fire, towards Wanda and her own self, scorching her bones to brittle stone.

Her lips curved and opened her eyes, forcefully showing a smile through her annoyance while shutting her mind. “I think I’ll pass. There are far more important tasks at hand right now, right Matt?”

“True,” the brunet shook his head absentmindedly, thumb holding his child and curled pointer finger against his lips. Deep in thought. “But now that we’re mentioning him, when was the last time you two spoke?”

“We haven’t talked since I went home, why?” Luna spoke right away. Perhaps too quick for her sake. Lying still remained somewhat of a weakness for her.

Unlike Loki…but that was another matter on hold. Luna didn’t let his memory cave in for the remainder of the time being. Not yet.

Matt remained silent, and so too the twins who sat three chairs away from him. His eyes were half-lidded as if to discern between an image blurring by the distance, thinking, planning.

“I thought he’d be mother-hening you these two days,” Matt acknowledged. “Has he tried to get in touch with you?”

“No?” Luna answered. “Before I left he said they were shortly leaving for a mission but didn’t tell me when they’d come back. I just figured he was still on that mission to this day, but I guess not.” Luna crossed her arms and puckered her lips while reclining against the desk chair. “Now with the whole mind-reading thing and whatever else went down…I doubt he’ll have the time.”

And it’s not like Luna would be able to anyway. After all, Thor and the others had suspicions she’d gone missing. That she was taken by those that’d upraised hell on the tower.

Matt locked eyes with Luna as his hand rested on the table, “I think you should call him. Keep in touch. Don’t go awol on him for too long.

“You think my silence would raise suspicion?” Luna cocked her brow curiously. Although she already knew Thor wouldn’t bring her name to question.

“Not necessarily,” Matt said, “but I want to rid of the possibility anyway. You’re our front still. Their distraction and our insider.”

Luna tilted her head ever so slightly, mentally refusing what Matt was proposing. “Right.”

“What the hell, you know what?” Matt jerked his head and hand gestured, “Why don’t you call him now? The sooner the better.”

Luna bit the inside of her cheek as the desire to laugh in his face grew. If he only knew she could not…

Trying to get in touch with him was a resonant ‘NO’. Not only because Mr. Nosy Laufeyson had declared they now relied on the element of surprise, but also and most importantly because Luna had no face to ever look Thor in the eye anymore. Guilt now forbade her from doing so.

“Well. I don’t have a phone. It got destroyed. You know…in the accident.” Luna stammered.

She watched as Matt reached for his back pocket and placed a phone on the table and slid it across. Its screen already unlocked by his fingerprint, already waiting for the number to be dialed. “You can use mine.”

Luna stared at the device. “Matt…” she reproached.

What the hell was Matt and the twins playing at? Luna wondered.

Was this some kind of test? She asked herself.

“Tony won’t be able to trace it back.” He asserted and smiled. “Call him.”

“Don’t you think they’d be a little busy right now,” Luna questioned yet it was no more than an excuse of refusal in disguise.

Matt huffed and silently chuckled, “Luna, it’s you who’s calling. He’ll definitely make time.”

Luna parted her lips, hesitating, feeling all stares on her and making her a helpless child again. Small, frail little girl.

The defeat was inevitable. To do as he said was the only way and Luna was more than aware. To continue building up to excuses would bring no good end but that of being discovered.

Thus, with cold sweaty palms, and feeling the opal pulsating faster, she reached for the mobile and dialed the number she’d memorized before raising it to her ear.

The beeps were soon replaced by an all too familiar robotic voice, JARVIS, who solicited her name and whom she desired to communicate with.

“Thor Odinson,” Luna responded as her eyes focused on the darkness of the table while she waited for the three familiar beeps. Usually, when she called, that was how long it took the Norse god to reach the phone an answer.

This time, however, there was nothing but one single beep. Right away his gruff voice showered her ears which made her heart rattle inside her rib cage.

“Luna?! Is that you?!” His voice tainted with hope and weariness. “Luna?”

And all Luna could do was bite her tongue. Swallow the lump. Stop herself from ending the call and throwing the phone before breaking down.

The desperation in his voice was too much. A stab, a strike to her soul. Tainted it black.

“Hey… it’s me.” Luna built up enough courage to speak and hid her heartbreak behind a weary smile for the prying eyes. Hid all her ailings behind a voice of normalcy, a pitch higher.

A broken sigh echoed through the line. And Luna could already imagine the glassy baby eyes and broken smile on him.

Luna wished to say ‘I’m sorry’. To confide in him just as he’d done before with her. To tell him he was the only one who had been true, honest, pure. Yet cowardice and her alliance made her repeat the same thing:

“It’s me.”

A/N2: this story is flopping but I am determined to finish it regardless!

#Loki #Lover #Angst #God of Mischief #Others #Submitted fic #submission #till we meet again #chapter 18 #marvelgirlonamarvelworld

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ren-c-leyn · 5 years

Text

To Duel a God...

It’s been a while since I’ve done a short story for this blog, thought I might give it a try since I’m still under the weather but want to try to stick to the habit of writing. This is a fusion story that I’ve been squirreling away prompts for for a while. I’m excited to finally have enough pieces in place to write it.

The prompts in question are these 1,2,3,4,5,6 by the always amazing @thependragonwritersguild, this one by @thewholekitandkabobble, these 1,2,3,4 by the lovely @givethispromptatry, and these 1,2 by @humdrummoloch. Thank you all for your hard work to make so many amazing prompts ^-^

Story warnings: This is a fight story, so there is fictional violence. It also mentions death in passing, but nothing in any great detail. There is a little swearing, as well.

It started with an old memory; a tiny cry from the void of hollow emptiness that had been eating me alive since that living nightmare.

Don’t be ridiculous, you don’t have to be any of those things to become a great hero. After all, heroes of legend are not the strongest or the wisest of us. They are those who had the selflessness and courage to do what was right.

But I know I am not one of those people. I had never been one of those people. If I had been, I would have been able to save him. If I am now, I would be able to avenge them now.

Perhaps my first warning that I still wasn’t one of those people should have been the way her face blanched at my statement and argued with me for an hour over it. Or, perhaps it should have been in my statement itself.

I’m going to challenge a god to a duel at sunrise on the anniversary.

Maybe they’d even add a line to the adventurer’s hand guide dedicated solely to warn against my insanity at the end of this: ‘Protip: Don’t challenge gods to duels.’

“You must understand! It was a hard fought victory; a truce that you are threatening to tear apart!”

“I don’t care. I promised nothing and was privy to no truce. I walk my own path and care little for the gods and their business.”

My best friend, my former comrade, the woman I had shed sweat and blood and tears with just searched my face with a lost sort of expression, similar to the one we had both worn that day, the anniversary, as we stared at the piles of corpses stacked up to impossible heights.

Eventually she sighed, shoulders sagging as her eyes closed.

“Why do you always do this?” she asked, voice tired and raspy.

“Why do you always ask me that when you know the answer you’ll get?”

And those dull, rust-colored eyes opened partly again.

“What’s going to happen to everything after you are gone?”

“I dunno. I’ll be dead, my friend. Figure it out for yourself.”

She snorted.

“So you admit this will be what finally kills you?”

“It’s more that I admit that I cannot guarantee it won’t, even with my so called talents. Still... can we really just sit back and say we’re fine with how things turned out in the end?”

“Obviously you cannot, and I cannot stop you. Go then, Payback. Do what it is you do best. I won’t join in your foolishness, but I will stand witness to your duel. I trust it will take place in the usual ring?”

A grim smile crept onto my face as I turned away from her desk and began to stride to the door.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With my friend and queen’s permission, or at least reluctant surrender, on the matter, I set about issuing my challenge. This proved to be the hard part. No priest or priestess in their right minds were willing to send my message to the war god, not even those of questionable sanity wanted to get involved, and several temples threw me out on my ear, quite literally. The last of which was the war god’s high temple itself.

Well, fine then. If I couldn’t get my challenge to the bastard through a third party, I’d just have to do it myself.

I climbed up the pillars, ignoring the indignant shouts of priests and temple guardians as I scaled up the front of the so called holy site, clawed my way through the ornate carvings depicting great battles and heroes, and then finally drug my armored arse over the lip of the roofing to get on top of the building itself.

Standing as straight as I could, I cupped my hands to my mouth and inhaled. Then, all at once, I roared up to the sky.

“WAR GOD!!! I CHALLENGE YOU IN SINGLE COMBAT FOR THE HONOR OF MY FALLEN FRIENDS! COME TO THE HILL OF ROSES ON THE SUNRISE OF THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE DAY YOU BUTCHERED THEM LIKE THE COWARD YOU ARE AND I SHALL HONOR THEIR MEMORIES WITH YOUR HEAD!”

Then, there was silence. A dead silence that was quite out of place for any part of the capital city. I wasn’t even sure if the people who heard me issue my challenge were breathing, but I couldn’t care less. They could hide in fear all they wanted, but I had faced god beasts and their other minions in the fields of battle during our war against the gods. I had looked servants of death in the eye, and even played cards with one during my queen’s negotiations for peace. There was nothing for me to fear from the other side.

Still, I found the silence a bit uneasy. Was I being ignored? Usually, my opponents responded to my challenged rather quickly. For example, you know the wizard accepts your challenge when a crimson bolt strikes. You know a thieves’ guild leader accepts your challenge when you have a knife and a dead snake pinned to the inside of your inn door the next morning.But how does one know when a god decides to accept a challenge?

Blood red lightening shot down from a cloudless sky and shattered an ancient oak that had been on the grounds for centuries.

I guessed that answered my question. The bastard had heard me alright, and it looked like he accepted my challenge. A broad grin split my face. Good, this would be fun.

Two weeks passed with nonstop training and uneasy anticipation. The nightmares of the past came and went in tides, mixing in with the present. Instead of falling victim to them, I used them to motivate myself, remind myself why I had to do this.

Then, the fateful morning came, or rather, the pre-dawn darkness before a fateful morning came. The queen and I stood on my usual dueling grounds, a flat-topped hill crowned with blood-red roses. It was a fitting place to die... for my enemies. Neither of us said a word to each other as we watched the eastern sky, waiting for our old enemy to appear.

Just as the deep blues of night began to turn yellow, and rays of sunlight began to caress the rosebuds, we felt it. That familiar stomach-twisting sickness from raw power. Both of us tensed.

Red lightening struck again, dancing in the center of the ring before us. It balled up, glowing brighter, and then went out entirely, revealing a tall man in strange armor made of heavenly metals and fangs and claws and hides of god beasts. A giant sword rested in his left hand, and a battle ax as broad as the queen’s shoulders rested in his right. Behind him was a cloaked figure I recognized as the commander of the war god’s army. She gave a nod to the queen and I, and we gave a nod back.

“Well, mortal, I believe we have a score to settle. Yes?” the war god’s deep voice growled out slowly, mockingly. “It shouldn’t take us more than a minute.”

I grinned up at him.

“I would think not. I should have your ugly head ready for my wall in thirty seconds.”

He howled out a laugh.

“You think you can kill me?”

“I think I can try and if I can’t then at least I can be an obstacle. I might even be able to make you bleed, or worse. Whose to know if we don’t fight?”

He chuckled darkly with a smirk to match.

“You will be lost in the land of the dead long before you make me bleed, mortal.”

A dark smile of my own surfaced.

“ I’m already as dead as my mercy. Come to think of it, you’re the one that killed me, on the inside anyways. You see, after you lose everything good in your life, all you can do is laugh. Laugh because you somehow managed to die along the way, but can’t remember where. But don’t worry, I have just enough mercy left in me to just make my vengeance killing you, instead of killing everyone you care about and turning you into a living ghost too.”

He sneered at me.

“Bold words for the empty shell of a pitiful creature. Don’t worry, I’ll put you out of your misery today. Witnesses! Begin the proceedings.”

“Yes,” the queen and the general answered instantly.

They both stepped back into the roses on opposite ends of the massive ring. Part of me wondered if they’d be okay, but it was a little late to take that into account now. They ran us through the dueling formalities, asking us to bow to each other, step back the appropriate number of steps, get into our stances, and then they began the count.

“Three, two, one, you may begin.”

They hadn’t even finished saying begin when the war god was bearing down on me, bringing both of his massive weapons down on each of my shoulders. I heard the queen scream, but I could only grin.

Invincibility is a real good time. Whenever someone tries to maim you, they always end up taking the damage. I just wish I had clothes to support that fighting style. Well, the cost of this armor was nothing in comparison to the priceless look of shock on the dumbass’s face when his own divine weapons bounced off my bones and sunk into his shoulders.

“H-how? What sorcerery is this?!” he hissed as he stumbled back.

“Oh, I guess no one told you. What a pity, for you. I’m the last person you want to fight. Every time you hurt me, it just reverberates back to you. My friends call me Payback.”

He laughed.

“I see, I guess I’ll have to stop fighting you like a mortal, and fight you as an equal!”

Lightening struck me and I felt it burn down to my bones. His weapons glowed red and he swung at me. Instinct kicked in and my body jerked out of the way, but the sword still caught my hand, leaving the first wound I had received on a battlefield in years.I retaliated with my own blade, going after joints and thinner spots of the armor. He blocked, dodged, countered, I ducked, rolled, and stabbed.

The longer the deadly dance of steel and lightening strikes went, the more of my blood dripped onto the trampled grass and hardened earth.

Ah. The one person I can’t defeat. Lovely.

And despite myself, I started laughing at the thought. Laughing as I rolled under his ax’s head and came up right in front of him, only to be kicked in the gut by the boot. I went down, and red lightening made sure I stayed down. As I laid there, jerking uncontrollably, I heard the heavily armored boots advancing on me.

Then, there was a bright white light.

“Enough,” a woman’s voice echoed.

“Out of my way, Life, the punk challenged me, not you.”

“The battle has been decided, War, lay down your arms.”

“It has not ended, it was a duel to the death.”

I heard her laugh, laugh right in his face. Had to hand it to her, she had nerve. I respected that. As much as a person spasming in the dirt can respect anything, of course.

“What’s so funny?” War demanded.

“In accordance to the treaty we made with the humans, duels to the death are prohibited.”

“Then why did you allow him to issue the challenge?!”

“I assumed to accepted knowing that you weren’t allowed to kill.”

“And if that mortal were to have defeated me, would you be hovering here in my defense as well?” he demanded.

“Of course, of course, it is my duty to uphold the treaty. Now take your bow, do your boasting, and let us return.”

I blacked out about half way through his big victory speech. Whether it was from boredom or the lightening still working its way through my body, I couldn’t say.

When I woke up, I was laying on the floor in the queen’s office while she scribbled something down with her quill.

“Still breathing?” she asked after a moment.

“Yeah....”

“Good.”

There was a long stretch of silence between the tense good and the end of whatever it was she was writing. When she put the quill down, though, I knew I was in trouble. She slowly turned in her chair, rust eyes narrowing at me.

“You know what? I’m gonna say it: you deserved that. You deserved all of that, including the awful speech he gave at the end of your duel. What kind of idiot challenges the war god to single combat? He’s the god of combat you twit!”

And it was half way through her speech that I realized Life had even less mercy than I did.

#my writing #short story #fiction #fantasy #high fantasy #angst #battle scene #writeblr #writer #am writing #long short story #a story by Ren

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mars-barssss · 5 years

Note

I dunno why more people dont ask on this blog, it's so good! 22 this isnt good bye with a big ol' lAMp if you're still doing these :P if not then please just tAKE THE COMPLIMENT YOU DESERVE IT-

//THANK YOU SO MUCH AHHHH-

//I’m really happy you like my blog, I just really hope I get somewhere on here some day. But even if there aren’t many asks, I love writing for writing! And of course I’m still doing it- I’m just glad there are people who like my stuff!

//Also, prepare yourself for emotions, cause this one is bittersweet.

___

The Heart Always Dies Last

TW: Major character death, Acceptance, Mentions of Deceit and Remus

Pairing: LAMP

Type: Bittersweet Angst

___

Everything was dark. That’s all Logan knew. Everything was light, then it all went dark.

He swore he was just watching through Thomas’s eyes! Thomas had been driving home, and then... then what?

It was so faded, he didn’t know what happened after. It just went dark, and the commons isn’t any brighter than what he saw!

A sharp ringing in his ears moved him from his frozen space in the commons. He curled slightly in on himself, covering his ears instinctively, knowing in reality it wouldn’t have changed much. The ringing pierced right through his defenses, leaving Logan to slowly lower to the ground in pain.

For a few moments, the logical side forgot how he got there, or what was happening. He wasn’t sure if he was in the commons or in his own room. Maybe the void? It felt like the void, as the darkness around him weighed heavily on him.

“Gaahk-!” The sound was so loud, screaming in his ears. As if something really, really wrong happened. As if something broke, releasing just pain, poured into this scream. He couldn’t think straight-!

Panic tore into Logan’s usually stoic expression, as he hugged himself tighter. The screams and ringing in his ears heightened with his own anxiety. He didn’t know what was happening, what did he do wrong?!

And in a moment, everything just stopped. As if the fear, all of the terror just faded away. The commons lit back up, but in a dimmer, faded light. The light seemed to flicker, as Logan nervously dropped his hands, looking up.

A soft sound caught the side’s attention right away. Crack.

Crack. Crack.

To his right, one of the walls in the mindscape was cracking. After a few more breaks in the wall, a sudden thud marked the moment when a large piece of the wall was released, floating. Logan backed away slowly, his eyes staring the floating piece of the wall fearfully. This- this isn’t right, what is happening-

Sudden footsteps caused him to turn to the side, as he heard another thud marking a piece of the floor that had began to fly. Who he saw there was Roman, who leaning heavily on the hallway’s wall. His eyes were wide, tears freely floating in front of him. “LOGAN-!” His mouth widened, as a hoarse scream tumbled out towards the logical side.

Logan turned to try to approach the side, when suddenly a trail of cracks finally reached the ground, causing the ground to come out right in front of him. He tumbled back, falling onto the ground-!

Roman was shaking so much, now that Logan got a good look at him. His head darted from the left to the right, before his eyes widened a bit more. He began to run towards the smaller gap in the ground, leaping over the flying wreckage. As soon as he hit the ground, he dashed over to the logical side, pulling him away from the broken ground, just as another section of the floor gave out.

“R-Roman, what in the world is going on?” Logan was forcefully torn from the ground, being almost thrown as far away from the hole as he could be by Roman. Roman was gripping to tightly to Logan, the logical side never thought he would see the day Roman cowered in fear. “Is this something from the imagination? This isn’t happening!”

“N-No, Lo! N-Nothing like that could do- d-do this-!” Roman practically whimpered the last words, as he tried to summon his sword. Nothing came when he did so, causing his tears to fly out quicker.

Logan watched as another section of the floor soared into the air, crashing into the ceiling, causing even more cracks. The cracks dug so deep into the walls, threatening the whole mindscape. “Roman, where’s Patton and Virgil?! Deceit? Remus?”

“I-I don’t know-! We don’t have time calculator watch! Come on-!”

Roman grabbed Logan’s sleeve, tugging and pulling him up the stairs, and closer to Logan and Virgil’s rooms. As they run, they watch as the walls began to break, as if it followed them. Logan’s door was open, and as they ran by, he saw his room in disarray. His room was long gone, as his bed was floating, and the ground was no longer anything was darkness and pieces of carpet.

Logan was pushed protectively behind Roman as Roman pounded on Virgil’s door. “VIRGIL-! A-ARE YOU IN THERE?!”

...

There was silence for the longest time. Dread was crawling to the deepest depths of Roman’s stomach. After enough time was wasted, he kicked in the door. “Virgil! Get over here, it’s not safe-!”

Virgil’s room barely looked any better than Logan’s. The posters that Virgil loved so much were floating away, and the spider curtains were floating away as well.

“Virgil-!” Logan released his voice, which now conveyed just how scared the stoic side was. Virgil rose his head at it, large, fat tears falling off his chin and floating in front of him.

There was what was barely could be called a path of unbroken, or yet to be broken, carpet. Roman cautiously stepped on it, as his already terrifying fears grew worse in the room. Then he saw him.

Virgil was hiding on his bed, curled up and shaking vigorously. Both of the sides could hear his cries, as he clearly was suffering a panic attack. At their voices, he curled up tighter, as if the room would come back together if he tried.

NONONONononononono

nonono

No... nonono...

Roman got as far as he could, his heart rate struggling in the room. The world was collapsing around them. He knew one thing. He had to get Virgil out of here.

And he took a risk.

Grabbing Logan’s wrist, he, without warning, jumps as far as he can over to Virgil. Logan tenses up the moment they jump, terror filling him as they fall further down into the darkness that was in each hole in the ground. Roman reached and reached out to the anxious side, hoping he would reach back-!

There was a beat.

Another beat.

And another.

And something touches Roman’s outstretched hand. Familiar fingers interlaced with Roman’s, and in that brief moment, Roman attempts to sink out, somewhere inside him was scared it wasn’t going to work.

But thank the heavens it did.

Three bodies tumbled into Roman’s room. Or what was. Admittedly, it was in better condition than the other two’s rooms. The ground was intact, but the walls were falling apart. His dresser was floating as well as his bed, however, and the door to the imagination was falling apart.

The moment Roman hit his floor, he immediately sat up, his heart racing in fear and adrenaline. The moment he looked up, his eyes darted around, soon spotting the both of them. When he did, his legs darted and forced himself up, and tackled the two of the other sides. Logan was near hyperventilating at all that had happened already, and Virgil flinched from the movement. But in a moment, the both of them, surprising Roman, leaned into the movement. Virgil was still crying, using Roman to stabilize himself. Logan looked past Roman’s shoulder, and watched as the walls pealed away slowly. Roman was laughing with adrenaline, holding them close.

“I-I thought we were going to die right there, hahaha-” Roman’s voice was quiet and loose, breaking the silence after a few moments.

“W-What was all of that-! L-Logan- I-I...” Virgil’s voice died in his throat as the tears filled it up, causing him to tighten his grip on Roman.

Logan just kept staring. His expression was unreadable, staring at the paint that slowly pealed along with the wall. He didn’t talk for a moment, before standing up. “... We need to find Patton.”

The other two sides nodded, although a bit unnerved by Logan’s clear, emotionless voice. The determined glint from the logical side’s eyes made it clear. The three of them got up, rushing out of the door. The hallway between Roman’s room and Patton’s were deteriorating, just slower than the left side’s hallway. Logan took this into account, before Virgil ran past him, closing the gap between him and the door in moments. His hoarse voice echoes, as he desperately knocked on Patton’s door.

“Patt-! Oh god, tell me you’re okay-!”

Virgil shook the door knob, his pounds grew more desperate. Suddenly, an idea runs through his head, as he reached for his neck. A small key on a necklace was pulled out, earning the turnings of the others’s heads. The key fit perfectly into Patton’s door, causing it to creak open. Without any questions, they followed Virgil into the room. Logan closed the door behind them.

What surprised him the most, was Patton’s room. It was the most together of all of their rooms. Thomas’s memories remained strong against the walls. The cracks didn’t hurt them. However, there were still marks and pieces missing in there. That remained the same.

Logan stepped out in front of Virgil, his eyes looking around the room. As he stood there, he felt his influence over the mindscape in general began to slip out of his hands. Sometimes, his hands went through objects, and his skin grew more faded, like he could see through his hands. This sort of hazy feeling in his head refused to go away too. A small glance at Virgil showed a similar thing, but instead of hazy, he looked scared, but almost sedated. Virgil’s hands and face were also fading.

Was this caused by our rooms destroying themselves?...

Small sobs got Roman's attention. He burst forward, his footsteps making their own cracks. He rushed down a corner of the room, the others close behind.

He saw Patton, huddled in the closet, large ugly tears falling into the air. His hiccups stopped any words from forming out of him. His eyes were glassy as he looked at the three of them. "G-guys-!"

"Patt-!" Both Logan and Virgil uttered, before Virgil rushed forwards, and fell in front of him. Remembering every time Patton did this for him, he rose his hands up, shakily, earning a shocked expression from the paternal side. But only moments later, He launched into Virgil's arms.

They only remained there for a moment before another pair of arms joined them, and surprisingly, one more soon after, although Logan remained standing, resting his hands on their backs. Together, they held each other close as their world began to end.

"L-Logan, what happened? I can't feel Thomas's emotions anymore! What h-happened to him, Lo?!" Patton cried out through his sobs. He ducked his head tighter in Virgil's hoodie, and leaned into Roman's touch.

"... The last thing... The last thing I remember was him driving, a-and..."

"Thomas-! Thomas are you still here?!" Roman practically screamed as he looked up, keeping his contact with the other sides.

There wasn't a response.

"Thomas?..." The name was so heartbroken coming out of the prince's voice.

Patton only curled up tighter hearing his remorse, before noticing how transparent Virgil was becoming beneath him. He stumbled back slightly, gripping Virgil's faded hand in his own. "Virgil-! Your hand-!"

"No, no, he's fine, Patt!" Roman tried to cover his fear in denial, interrupting anything Virgil would have said. Logan only looked distraught.

"I doubt we have much time left. All... A-All of us." Logan's voice hiccupped as he looked at them.

"A-Are we dying?!" Patton's voice was broken in millions of pieces. He shuddered, holding Virgil's hand to his heart. Virgil shook, his tears flew into the air as he dug his face into Patton's arms.

Roman stiffened at the words. He moved towards them, pulling them closer in. He began to open his mouth, to reassure them, before...

Before Logan cut in.

"... No." Logan sounded so sure, so determined in that moment. It surprised every one of the sides. They expected Logan to say yes. To be real with them. To tell them it's the end. The word, "No", was the last thing they were expecting. "No, we... We aren't going to die. This isn't goodbye." His voice didn't waver, as if it was the truth. And with how strongly he sounded like he believed in it, they began to believe in it too.

"E-Even if it isn't the end, I'm sorry." Roman uttered. He reached his hand out, which now just began to fade, and caressed Virgil's ghostlike face. It almost made him look edgier, Roman thought. He didn't say that though. "I'm sorry to you, Virgil. I'm sorry for teasing you, and being a huge jerk and I wish we had accepted you earlier-"

"Ro-!" Virgil cut him off, his small, scared but genuine smile was on his face. "I've already, uh, forgave ya. Like a long time ago." He shrugs slightly, gaining his composure slightly. His hands gripped tightly at Patton's back.

Roman laughed wetly, looking at Patton. "And, Patt, I'm so glad you were there for me. I'm sorry-"

"No apologies!" Patton's voice was loud and quick for a second, before softening. "I care about you too Ro, don't apologize about anything."

This time, Patton pulled Roman in the circle, fresh tears came from everyone in it, for a moment. Logan shuffled a bit, watching his hands fading into the air, watching his fellow sides, no, family, in front of them. "I apologize for not being emotionally available. And sincerely I'm really sorry that I wasn't good enough to stop this." His voice remained its stoic complextion until the end, where everyone could hear it break.

Roman looked up at the remaining side, lifting and arm up, and the others did the same. Logan looked at them, smiling a small, but real smile. He uncomfortably made his way into the ground, his cheeks were beginning to fade one he got into the circle. The circle got tighter, as if their combined power would stop it.

It won't. But they didn't care.

Soon, Virgil looked up into Patton's eyes.

"Thanks. For uh, everything, you're all my family, but you actually were the one who let me in first. And yeah." Virgil laughed uncomfortably under the silence. "I l-l... I lo-o..."

He struggled for a bit on the word. But he knew he needed to say it one day. His tongue not quite there anymore wasn't helping, and he was losing his grip on Patton quickly, and they were losing hold of him.

With a small voice, he managed to utter something, something that he wanted to say for a long, long time. His voice was dying, and it was his last chance.

"I love you guys, thank you..."

He focused on the hold of everyone around him, until he couldn't anymore. He held his eyes open, until he couldn't anymore. He held his smile wide, until he couldn't anymore.

He heard their voices, but not their words. And that was okay. They loved him back, he was sure.

Patton noticed as Virgil was almost all of the way gone, tears flared up in his eyes. He pulled him as close as he could, tight enough to kill someone probably. Holding him as if he could stay. "Virge-! virgil, kiddo, wait don't-!"

"Virgil, please don't leave us!"

"Virge-!"

Virgil faded away, his hoodie was all that was left in his arms. The beautiful black and purple stitched hoodie. He cried, sobbed into the thing. Crying for him to come back.

Somewhere, Thomas felt as all of his worries and fears were draining away into oblivion.

Roman tightened his hold on Patton and Logan, crying into their shoulders. Amongst them were Virgil's name, and some other pleas. They held each other so tight, Logan's eyes were flooding with tears, something that felt so unnatural to see.

But it was also so wonderful. Patton had never seen a crying Logan. He didn't even know he could sometimes.

Surprisingly, Roman, although he stared fading later, was going quickly. He was beginning to fade away, but more like dust than Virgil. His eyes met Patton's and Logan's.

His smile wavered for a moment, before a scared tackle by Patton made him feel content. They cared about him, he always knew they did.

"Hey Padre, it's going to be okay. Do you trust me?"

"Ro, is that a Disney reference? A-At a time like this?" Patton's voice giggled a bit, a bit shy of his usual laugh.

"Of course... Of course, Patt! What would I be if I weren't one with Disney at the end?" Roman smiled contentedly, pulling back to see Patton's face and Logan.

"I-I guess that's true. Roman, I t-trust you." Patton laughing wetly, wiping furiously at his tears.

"Good, Patt." He looked down at Patton, before turning his head to Logan. "Lo, I wish I was better to you. You mean a lot to me, and I was dumb. I-"

"Roman, it's okay." Logan hugged him tightly, looking into Roman's sleeve, he pulled away, looking at him determinedly. "Roman, you asked what you would be if you didn't have Disney. I'd think even without Disney, you'd be our incredibly loud, best friend. I'll see you soon, okay Roman?"

Roman's expression was one of shock, before a large, closed smile rose onto his face. Acceptance radiated from him, raising his head valiantly. "Now, the magnificent Roman must go find his brother-! Wherever he went, and he has things to say to him."

He looks back at them, leaning into them as his last words came out of his mouth, everything fading away.

"I'll see you both soon."

Somewhere, Thomas felt his dreams fade away like a dream, as he fell further into oblivion.

This time, when Roman faded, there were no screams and pleas. Just sadness mixed tenderly with contentment as he floated away. All that remained was his red sash, in the dark the surrounded them now. Patton held onto it.

Logan was fading too, but differently. Patches of his skin where more faded than others, as if organized. He looked up from the embrace, a solemn smile, genuine, was on his face. He looked at Patton, the last one, as he felt himself fall apart.

"Patton, are you holding up well?"

"Why... W-Why do you ask?" Patton lets out another wet chuckle. He grips tightly onto Logan's arms, moments away from holding him close.

"I'm not going to be the last, you are. And I care about you. I want you to be okay." Logan answers logically, smiling to himself and wiping a few tears that were left. "It's kind of scary, isn't it?"

Logan was looking at his hands, and so was Patton. Suddenly, Logan was pulled into a tight, desperate hug. Wet stains appeared on his shirt. "Logan, don't leave me please-"

"Patton." Logan holds him tightly, talking straight to him. "Remember, this is not goodbye. You'll see Virgil and Roman again."

"A-And you...?"

Patton sounded like a scared child. Logan smiled slightly, hiding his face in his shoulder as he felt his words and everything leave him.

"Of course."

Somewhere, Thomas felt all reasoning and understanding of what happened and what to do fade away into his mind.

And with those words, all that remained of the logical side was his tie. Patton's shaky hand held it close to him, along with every other members's items. He held them so tightly, as if he let them go, they'd be gone forever. They felt so heavy on him, burdened with the guilt and loss of his friends.

In what used to be the mindscape, there were a lost hoodie, a lonely tie, a proud sash, and a loved cardigan, laying on the ground on top of each other.

Patton never did know why he was last, but even he uttered one last thing. A small smile widened on his face as he hugged them as much as he could, his own body cracking like ice and fading.

"I'm so happy. I'm so happy I was with you all."

Somewhere Thomas didn't feel anything but happiness.

And there was no one left in the mindscape to mourn.

#sandersides #sanders sides #virgil #roman #logan #patton #requests #i hope you like this!#i had fun making it #please send in more requests guys ^^

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scripttorture · 5 years

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Hello! I was wondering if you could point me towards some examples of well-written torture scenes? Your give great advice on the psychology and historical side of things, but I was wondering if you have any good examples of "torture done right" in writing (ie. written tastefully, plausibly, and without being apologia). Thanks!

Doyou maybe have some examples of well-written torture scenes? Whetherit’s a book or a fanfiction or whatever. Something you yourself readand liked (as far as a torture scene could be… liked).

I’m combining these two asks because they’re so similar.

This is honestly really difficult for me. Not because there aren’t brilliantly written scenes out there. It’s because since I started the blog (and writing seriously) I’ve had a lot less time to read fiction. At this point I’ve read a lot more victim statements then I have fictional torture scenes.

Actually, right now, I more or less avoid fiction that might involve torture unless it’s for the blog because I don’t want to become over whelmed.

So I went back and forth on how to answer this. I wrote out and discarded several answers.

For this one- I’m going to write some scenes myself. Your mileage may vary on how well you think I write. They’re all taken from larger original works and I’ll provide some context for them.

Hopefully you all think they’re a decent read.

The context for the first scene is that Erife ‘Needle’ Hennoi is a young man from a military family in a country that’s under military rule. He’s mixed race, his surname is from the dominant cultural and ethnic group (Sardhan) and the nickname ‘Needle’ is part of his minority heritage (‘Southern’). At the time this scene takes place he’s the last member of his family that’s still actively supporting/part of the military. One of his older sisters is in exile with a family friend. The other (Teeka) led her unit in a mutiny and is thought to be hiding with the ‘anarchists’ mentioned in the scene. This is a fantasy story and there is a little bit of magic towards the end of this scene.

Erife paused at the doorway, listening closely. There were no screams this time, no moans he could make out through the thick wood. A treacherous part of his mind told him he was wrong, he was making assumptions. The military he knew would never-

Except they had. Countless times before. Almost every state but the Capital stood in testament to that.

He opened the door.

The smell hit him like a hurled brick and left him blinking as if his eyes needed to adjust. A heavy rancid soup of waste and human fluids.

On the floor there was a bundle, like a pile of rags bound up into a roughly human shape. He couldn't see it's face around Lieutenant Kedrai's legs but there was a spill of straight Sardhan hair, an inch of terracotta skin-

And a funnel, the narrow end would be wedged in their mouth, the water forced down their throat would be distending their stomach and-

“Ah, Hennoi.” Lieutenant Kedrai turned towards the door and smiled. “Would you pass me that bucket?”

He thought of Teeka and the way she could lie with a natural smile.

“I would-” Erife said carefully. “But I doubt I’ll have time to change before reporting to the Major, and she’ll have my hide if I go up smelling like the docks.”

Kedrai gave a little patronising laugh. He let the funnel drop. Without turning he kicked out, Erife heard it hit, somewhere soft and then Kedrai stepped a little further back.

It was a woman.

She was older then him, but not by much, she couldn't have been much younger then Teeka. Her abdomen was stretched out like a blister, swollen until it looked as if the skin would burst. She struggled, sat halfway up and drew her shoulders up in a single deep breath.

Kedrai kicked her stomach.

Erife froze, his face set like stone.

The water spilled out of her mouth, her nose, like a basin overflowing. Kedrai kicked her again and the smell of fresh bile and filth grew stronger still. Gods' mercy it was spilling out of her-

Erife's hands were clenching up so he put them safely out of sight behind his back. He wanted to look away, he wanted to run, he wanted-

He wanted to be anywhere else, anywhere at all. But it wouldn't do to show his feelings to-

It was interesting how instinctively that thought ended, how naturally. 'The enemy', of course.

Kedrai was shouting- something. And Needle knew he should pay attention but it was difficult when the smell was making his head swim.

Kedrai took a handful of the woman's hair and pulled her up by it.

"-those filthy anarachists! What are you hiding for them?! Where are they?"

There was still bile leaking out her mouth, trailing down her chin. Her breath was coming in splutters and bubbles.

"You think this is the worst we can do?" Kedrai bellowed. "This is a kindness compared to what I'll do tomorrow! Talk blast you!"

Her lips moved and the sound that came out was small, choked. Kedrai leaned closer.

She bit him.

Kedrai screamed. He fell backwards into the filth. The woman’s head hit the floor with a thump and she laughed, breathlessly.

Kedrai swore, scrambled to his feet. He kicked out and over the steady beat of the blows Needle heard her swearing. ‘Gate take you’ and ‘the Warrior burn you’ and ‘the Child eat your bones’.

Eventually she stopped.

“Blast it.” Kedrai swore.

“Unconscious?” Needle asked, somehow he kept his voice reasonable, as if he was enquiring about the most convenient train.

“I’ll get the wretched traitor awake again.” Kedrai stated. “I’ll get her talking.”

Liar, Needle thought.

“I’m sure.” He said, in something like the tone Teeka would have used. “But I’m afraid I’m just getting in your way-”

“Yes, Hennoi you are.” Kedrai retorted. “Though I suppose it’s good for you to see how the real work gets done.”

“It has certainly been educational.” Needle replied. “I’ll get out of your way. Shall I let the Major know you’ll have something shortly?”

“I’ll tell her myself.” Kedrai snapped.

Needle walked out at a steady pace with his head held high. He shut the door firmly behind him. The air outside tasted sweet.

His heart felt as if it was about to burst. He couldn’t think. That awful laugh- The smell-

He needed to go up to Roika, he needed to give his report and-

When Needle started walking he found himself going the other way. Deeper into the prison, the cells. Had they dug more room out of the earth since Ilāra left? Or had it always been this big and the emptiness had made it seem smaller? So many of the doors were locked and bolted now. If there was a room for every step and two or three people for every room then how many-

“Um, Sir?”

He hadn’t even noticed he’d stopped, but of course he’d come here. Of course he’d come to her.

The girl at the door was a Private and barely old enough for the stripe at her shoulder. Teeka would have known her name. Teeka would have glanced at her and known the best way to persuade her. That was Teeka’s talent and Needle-

Needle should have learnt.

“Open the door.”

“Sir?”

“I gave you an order Private. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“But she’s dang-”

“Your concern is appreciated and I can handle an Avinas now open the blasted door or I shall feed you to the Gateway myself.”

“Sir!”

She fumbled over the keys and the bolts. Eventually she got it open. Needle stepped inside and she slammed the door shut after him as if it was holding back the Gateway itself.

The room was like an adharkist’s chamber, the white of fleeting power. All the better to highlight the black sigils carved into the stone.

Vee sat in the centre looking up at the ceiling. She turned sharply when Needle stepped into the sigils, like a hungry hound smelling meat.

“Oh- hello. You feel strange, like chewing lemon rinds-”

Needle sat down at the edge of the circle, just inside. Vee twisted round on to her hands and knees and crawled closer.

“That’s different-” She continued and Needle supposed she was talking to him. “I’ve not- I’ve not felt like that before. It’s so beautiful, all your hurt twisted up like knots round the things you need to live. It’s like- oh what’s it like? What’s the word? Those pretty little lumps you get inside. The rot. The cankers. Do you know what I mean?”

She crawled up until she was close enough to kiss, as close as Kedrai had gotten to that woman and she breathed out, shallow and excited. Anticipation made her shake.

“Can I have it? Please. It’s beautiful and I want it so so much- Let me take it. It won’t hurt- I think- I know- Probably- Oh please-”

“Yes.” Needle whispered. “You can have it.”

She made a high squeaking sound, like an excited child and she didn’t touch him but-

All at once he felt empty, hollowed out. Neither sad nor angry but a void left by whatever huge, clawing thing had taken up the space in his chest.

Vee sat back on her heels and hummed. “Oh that’s- It’s strange isn’t it? New. Like someone’s wrapped sharp wire round your brain. I don’t know if I like it but it feels like I have to keep holding it? Like having bones- Is it like that for you? Did you want it back?”

“No.” Needle breathed and Vee smiled as if she’d been promised a present.

“Oh- I should- Mother says we should say thank you when we get something. And I didn’t did I? Thank you. No one’s ever given me anything like that before. But I don’t think I’ll keep it forever you know- Now I’ve got it it isn’t new. So I’ll probably want something else soon- Is it like that for you?”

“No.” Needle murmured.

There was a hole inside him but the emptiness had left him feeling calmer, focused. Clarity, or an illusion of it.

Without really thinking he reached out and touched her shoulder. He’d half-expected her to feel different but it was just warm, soft skin.

“What’s it like?” Vee asked leaning into his hand. “How do you make all these beautiful things? Is it hard? Can you show me?”

“I don’t know.” Needle told her softly and Vee pouted like a child.

“But that’s not fair. You do it all the time. How can you not know?”

“I’m not sure. But even if I knew I’m not sure if I’d be able to teach you. You’re different.”

“I know.” She replied and sighed deeply. “Everyone always says that. Even Mother-”

She shifted closer by degrees, until she was sitting curled up in his lap. She was heavier then he expected. After a moment he put a hand in her uneven hair.

“She’s not coming, is she?” Vee asked. “Only- I thought she would but- But it’s been such a long time. A long long time.”

“I don’t know.” Needle said.

“Do you think she doesn’t want me any more?”

“I-”

Needle stopped. He looked down at her, guileless and wide eyed and oh so very dangerous. Vee frowned.

“What’s that? Are you going to lie? That feels- Well it isn’t quite lying is it? It’s like the lie and the truth are all tangled together and tying up your tongue.” She giggled and tapped the tip of his nose with her finger. “Can I have both?”

“Both?”

“The lie and the truth. Usually people just give you one or the other but they both make people feel so pretty-”

“I don’t know whether your mother still wants you.” Needle said. “I can’t imagine how anyone wouldn’t.”

“Oh! Yes! Exactly like that! Both at once. Well done.” She patted his shoulder.

Needle took a deep breath. He felt empty and clear. The answer had never been complicated or obscured. It was stark and obvious as the Crone’s sacred signs. He just hadn’t wanted to accept it.

Vee twisted in his arms, mouth opening-

“No.” Needle said firmly. “You can’t have this. Not yet.”

“Oh. Why?”

“I need it.” Needle sighed. “And we need to leave.”

So- on to the second story.

The context for this next scene is a little different. Rather than immediate this scene is retrospective: Sarika is recounting an important story in her culture to Ravi. It’s very much the mythic justification for the way Sarika’s culture functions. They’re the only culture in this world that still has an aerial fleet and members reportedly never touch the ground. They use their fleet to fight fires and rescue people from natural or man-made disasters. Ravi is slightly obsessed with researching them after they saved his life as a child and Sarika is only the second member that he’s been able to talk to.

Going into this Ravi knows that Sarika’s people consider themselves cursed, that they used to be soldiers and that the culture was more-or-less founded by two women who loved each other, Inna and Sarangerel.

I hastened to the roof as soon as I was able, eager to hear the rest. I found Sarika seated and smoking steadily. Repressing my distaste at the smell I sat beside her. We sat in silence for some minutes before I begged her to continue.

She drew deeply on her pipe and blew stinking tobacco from her nose. She bid me to remind her what she had spoken of last.

“Inna and Sarangerel,” I replied. “The King’s men had pulled Sarangerel from the wreck. They’d taken her to the dungeons.”

“Ah.” Sarika stood and moved to the edge of the roof. She sat on the raised edge, her legs dangling down and stared out over the university.

At the time I did not understand her hesitancy, in part because I did not yet understand her story. As different peoples we set our stories to different beats. I expected a tale of love and daring rescue.

Sarika sucked on her pipe and the smoke leaking from her nose wreathed her head and hair making her look like a djinni from the old tales, a creature of smoke and air.

“They tie her hands like this.” She made a quick motion with the hand that did not hold her pipe. I took it to indicate that Sarangerel’s hands were tied behind her back but Sarika did not pause to let me ask or reflect.

“They kick her. They say she is traitor. They say the King rules the fleet. They say she will tell them where the fleet is. And like the swan she makes no sound.”

“They take boots, they hit feet. Like this. And like the swan she makes no sound.”

“They are angry, the men. They want screams and shame. Sarangerel does not give them this. So they take cloth and tie over- Like this, yes?”

“Her head.” I said softly. “They tied it over her head.”

“Yes. Tie tight like this. You see?”

I murmured that I did.

“She moves and then she does not.” Sarika continued. “And the men they want take off cloth but it is tight. There is time. They take and she is blue. They think she is dead and they are afraid-”

“Of Inna?” I interrupted.

“Of Inna.” Sarika confirmed. “They kill her love she would make the rain burn. So they think they will hide this body, make her not Sarangerel. They take burning water* and put on her head like this.”

She gestured to the lower half of her face, the nose, cheeks, mouth and neck.

“When she is burnt they leave. They send woman to clean and she sees Sarangerel lives.”

Here Sarika paused and drew deep on her pipe. I waited, unsure if this signalled worse to come. The tale was not at all what I expected and I am not ashamed to say it disturbed me.

“She is good.” Sarika said after a moment. “She is of the King’s city but she is good. She sees Sarangerel and she feels pain. Like walking on the ground.”

Sarika sighed.

“We do not remember her name. But she takes Sarangerel from this place. She cares like Sarangerel is child. Feeds, cleans, you understand?”

“Yes.”

“There is time and Inna hears nothing. She thinks the King has killed her love. She brings the fleet over King’s lands. Like the pilgrim-bird that kills to court. Many towns, many people, they take like this.” She made a flattening motion with her hands, as if lives and cities were cast aside like waste.

“For the King’s city she comes, flak and fire and thunder- And then the woman, she has Sarangerel, she sends words to the fleet. Says to Inna ‘She is safe’-”

Sarika trailed off and I had to prompt her to continue the tale.

“They come from the air for her. You have seen it yes? We drop from the air, we take them up. You have seen it. Like this they take Sarangerel, they take the woman.”

Sarika drew on her pipe and the smoke streamed from her nose. “And Inna burns the city.”

“The whole city?”

“Yes. She makes the air rot, the rain burns. Below the people die.”

“All of them?”

“All. There is only the woman who took Sarangerel. She sees burn below, mother, children, loves, home, all burns.”

Sarika smiled mirthlessly and with a flick emptied her pipe over the side of the roof. I watched the burning ashes fall and tried to imagine them in such a quantity that they mimicked the rain.

“She says ‘You Tama, you are monsters.’ And then she curses ‘You will not rest. You banish from the ground. You rest when you save more lives then you take.’” Sarika shrugged. “So we are cursed. That is all.”

I felt quite sure that it was not. “What happened to her?”

Sarika shrugged again. “Do not know.”

“Did Inna kill her?”

“Perhaps.”

“And Sarangerel?”

“She wakes. She lives. In time she stop Inna’s fires. She leads us and we save lives.”

“And her face?”

Sarika gestured to the lower half of her face and told me that for Sarangerel it was gone**.

“What about the King?”

Sarika shrugged as if he was an irrelevance. “He burns.”

I put it to her that every other version of this story I had heard was quite different. That when outsiders told her story there was no Sarangerel and it was the King who cursed her people.

Sarika laughed so hard I feared she would fall from the roof.

*I was unable to confirm whether the liquid Sarika referred to was corrosive or flammable. Sarika gave me both her translation and the Taman word but what precisely it indicates I can not tell. Her Hindi was far from fluent, her Urdu simplistic and her Arabic best described as inventive. I suspect her people value linguistics in quantity rather than quality.

**Some time later I was fortunate enough to see Taman paintings of Sarangerel. The custom is to paint this damaged portion as a flat red shape without nose or mouth.

Both of these scenes are trying to accomplish several things simultaneously. They are (I hope) working on multiple levels.

Sarika is narrating a story that is chiefly a scene of torture and genocide. But this is also highlighting the difference between how her people see themselves and their priorities versus how outsiders see them. It’s expanding on Ravi’s preconceptions and the cultural differences between them.

In the broader context of the main story it’s the reason Sarika’s people give for their existence. Their culture grew up around a response to torture. They wouldn’t exist as they are if the friends, colleagues and lover of this survivor (as well as the survivor herself) didn’t respond to suffering in the way that they did.

This is probably the furthest I’ve taken the insistence that torture have long lasting consequences: it hasn’t just shaped the people who were there and their children but a whole culture. Its echo lasts for generations.

Inna takes the somewhat traditional role of a partner pursuing vengeance on behalf of someone else. It’s not asked for (which is also a common trope). And in this case it backfires spectacularly. Inna’s assumption that she has the ‘right’ to create more victims is the cultural cause of this ‘curse’. She is ultimately to blame for the way her people suffer and Sarangerel (by finding a way to address the situation they are left in afterwards) is the person who remakes them and allows them to survive.

Sarangerel adapts her entire society to a ‘new normal’, in a way they’re all going through a survivor recovery arc. Led by a survivor.

The insistence that it’s a nameless, charitable ‘good’ woman, responsible for the curse (rather than a bloodthirsty king) should- I hope- shift more of the power and focus on to survivors rather then torturers.

The torturers and the King all die, but for the people who come afterwards this is almost an after thought to the story. It’s less important than a cleaning lady who saw her home go up in flames.

The scene with Erife isn’t quite so world-changing. But it’s an essential part of the character’s arc and growth through the story. It’s a catalyst.

Up to this point in the story Erife has never really acted on his own account. He’s obeyed orders, even when he’s uncomfortable with them. He’s stopped doing things that help and nourish him in the name of assimilating with the mainstream culture. He’s abandoned or betrayed the family he loves in order to stay on the right side of a government he doesn’t even believe in.

He’s spent years persuading himself that this half-life he’s settled for isn’t so bad. And this is where that ends. He can’t pretend his situation is acceptable any more. He leaves and he takes Vee with him.

Unlike the previous story in this case the victim herself isn’t the focus of the story. The audience aren’t going to learn her name and she isn’t going to show up again. But nonetheless she’s had a lasting effect. Moving forward Erife will think about her quite a bit.

She says and does less then Kedrai but (I hope) she’s the focus of the scene.

The later parts of the scene with Vee should be suggesting solitary confinement. I hope they’re also suggesting that Vee doesn’t think, process things or behave like a human being. Though if that isn’t clear from this snippet there’s a lot of narrative moments before this that should make that clear to the reader.

Vee’s response within the context of both the scene and the larger story should be viewed as the aberration. Because the way she’s wired means her instinctive description of terminal bone cancer is ‘pretty’.

And broadly the scene is also serving to draw Erife and Vee closer together. It’s changed the plot, the characters and their relationship to each other.

Both of these scenes might be longer then you expected. In the sense that I haven’t just included the descriptions of torture. I’ve provided some build up, the moments before, and a significant period immediately afterwards.

Because the scene isn’t the be all and end of whether torture is portrayed well or not. We’re talking about a complex nuanced set of situations and the larger context of a story can mean a lot more then a single scene.

As an example of how complicated this can be take a look at this previous ask about the use of the term ‘broken’ in fictional torture.

It’s a term that’s often used to prop up torture apologia, supporting the idea that survivors are utterly shattered by torture and can not possibly move on with their lives (not true).

But at the same time survivors and torturers and witnesses all use this term. And using that language in the context of a survivor feeling overwhelmed and frustrated and unsupported, like their life is spinning out of control because of this one awful event? That’s realistic. Not necessarily positive, but realistic and plausible. A lot of survivors would probably see themselves in a scene like that.

Using that language to capture part of a survivors recovery process and showing them healing to a point where they can reject that language as something that was dragging them down- Takes that same scenario to the next level and it might empower the survivors reading the story.

I don’t believe there are simple answers when we’re choosing to write about complex topics.

And I understand that that’s frustrating, not always having a clear answer. Part of that philosophy comes from how outright harmful I’ve found a lot of writing advice in the past. I don’t want to dictate how people should approach writing. I don’t think that’s helpful.

For me torture done well isn’t a scene, it’s a plot line.

In these two examples I’m using it to trigger radical change in the characters. For Sarika it’s the explanation of how her people went from being soldiers to rescuers; it’s part of the definition of her culture. For Erife it’s the moment he realises things are worse then he thought. It’s the start of him thinking for himself and listening to his conscience.

I couldn’t take either incident out of these plots and end up with the same story or characters at the end. Even though the torture itself is at a significant remove from the major characters. Erife is a witness. Sarika isn’t even that.

Which reflects a trend I’ve noticed in my writing- most of the time I don’t show the torture scene if a major character is tortured. Instead I concentrate on the aftermath, the symptoms and the recovery process. That’s just how I personally tackle it. There’s nothing wrong with an author choosing to include a graphic scene for a major character.

But however it’s tackled, whether we fade to black or not, whether we put major characters or minor ones through it, there must be consequences. Huge, character changing, world-warping consequences.

That doesn’t mean the simplistic cop outs like the survivor who is completely removed from the plot by virtue of their survival.

Think bigger and beyond the insulting stereotypes. Think of resistance movements and cultures of remembrance. Palmares. Capoeira. The Circassian refusal to eat fish from the Black Sea.

If torture can be removed from a narrative easily, then it almost certainly wasn’t a good narrative use of torture.

And there is so much potential in these plots. At their best they explore something fundamental to our humanity: our ability to find meaning and happiness in life regardless of the suffering inflicted on us and our ability to help each other even while we’re suffering.

I think I’m going to have to leave that there. If you’d like some recommendations for stories that I think handle torture well I’m happy to give you some titles. But most of the stories I love for the way they used torture don’t have any graphic scenes. Some of them don’t discuss torture explicitly at all.

But you asked for scenes and this was the best I could come up with.

I hope it helps. :)

Availableon Wordpress.

Disclaimer

#Anonymous #tw torture #writing victims #writing witnesses #writing torture scenes #resistance #effects of torture #torture plot lines #my writing #I'm a little bit nervous about showing it to you all to be honest

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imagine-lcorp · 5 years

Text

Hey people

Hi, my dear beans, I now it’s been a while and I’ve been kind of missing for quite sometime so I wanted to write to you to let you know I’m still alive and well and still writing from the shadows (really don’t worry I’ll keep on writing for a long time). But I wanted to share with you what has been going on in my life (It may be quite therapeutic to share with you, kind strangers, beautiful mutuals, and just the internet void), also don’t worry here’s the cut so you don’t have to read any of this if you don’t want to (I still love y’all) so just don’t worry I’ll be posting something soon and life is cool :) Now, here’s the thing...

I had a depressive episode, so to speak, I stopped doing a lot of things I enjoyed for a while because yeah depression, but this past month was a whole ride of emotions that felt like the best and the worst thing ever. I started to feel really down once June started for a couple of reasons, 1) because it’s pride and while I want to scream how gay I am and enjoy all the gay I cannot do it since I’m not fully out of the closet yet...yeah, shocker...I wish i was tho but for certain reasons I cannot and also I still feel a bit unsure about the whole coming out thing, so of course that lead me to believe I would live my life in shadows all my life and oh god no, please, no... 2) work was kind of a bitch this month and I don’t have yet a working computer of my own...so of course my load of work increased, i got stressed and anxious about this whole ordeal but I FUCKING DID IT!!! suck it capitalism! so we’re calmer now...and also, thanks to the people that donated to my ko-fi, much appreciated guys, you’re the real mvp! ...3) on the good side, I went with my gf to a Florence + The Machine concert!! and OMG, it was a fucking religious experience, she’s a goddess i love her, i cried.... but after that oh the fall from grace, depression hit me again...4) basically after that my gf got mad and annoyed at me for a lot of things, which we’re indirectly my fault but still, having a gf mad at you is not at all great... and that lead me into the path of thinking that maybe I should broke up with her because I’m not being a good person for her and that i’m the wooooooorst... there’s a voice in my head still whispering that but I keep it at bay, i love my gf and even tho she’s still kind of annoyed (I seriously don’t know what i did) she loves me too.

Things are much better now, ofc, but it was a really really hard for me to try and carry on with a sense of normalcy, things got hard or at least they seemed hard...and i want to share this with you because for me it’s a way of letting go but also because I know some of you out there feel the same way sometimes and even though I don’t know you i know what this feels like, you’re not alone, my astral ghost is with y’all and I also want to say, thank you for hanging around this blog and giving me some sense of purpose that keeps me going in the hard times and reading and liking the shit i write. It’s not much but it’s made with love and for you. <3 that’s it, that’s the rant, i love you guys

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kachinnate · 5 years

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as you all know, the only venting i ever post on here is reblogged subtle depression feels *sparkle emoji* or an explosion of all the shit that’s happened to me like every three months because i cannot take Any More under a read more

the three month deadline has come now

triggers below, check the tags please

this year has unabashedly been the worst year of my life.

and that sounds dramatic, and i know i could have it worse, and maybe i’m being selfish because literally all the things that have happened this year have been all inner turmoils and i’ve literally had years where my family went through financial struggles + death and stuff and even that doesn’t compare to the emotional toll i’ve went through this year but it’s just. bad. it’s so bad.

i don’t know how or why but my depression seemed to just fucking turn itself up 8 notches after january hit to the point where i had to tell my dad that i needed medical help lmao... and i got my first diagnosis, my first perscription.. and it didn’t work, so they upped the dosage, and that didn’t work, so now i’m on a new medicine which has a starting dosage of 150mg, and my doctor told me if this one didn’t work she’s going to refer me to a psychiatrist, and i must have looked so broken and on the verge of tears when she said this because she immediately had to reassure me that this wasn’t a failure on my own part, which logically makes sense right, but at the same time it’s just so?? fucking disheartening?? after months of my upper dosage not working i just cold turkeyed them until my next appointment which probably wasn’t the Best Thing because shortly following that i realized that i wanted to k*ll mys*lf more in a two week period than i’d have ever in my entire life, and i thought that suicide idealization was an issue i struggled with since forever, but boy howdy was i wrong because these past couple of weeks have been sooooooo fuckin bad lmao. like i struggle opening my medicine because sometimes i dump like all of it out and just. look at it. in my hand. i never actually do it because i’m way too scared of having a seizure or my dad doing something stupid if i were dead but what if. what if what if what if. it’s more of an intrusive thought than me planning on it, but. what if. my new medication has a specific warning that it’s dangerous for overdoses which is. genuinely kind of scary. what if.

i realized that i don’t have anyone friendwise irl anymore over the course of this school year. to save you and myself the retelling of the most bullshit high school drama i’ve ever been apart of, i realized that all my friends in my Group (tm) couldn’t care any less about me than they already do. i’ve always adored them and loved them with all of my being, and yeah i am not endowed to their appreciation back i guess, but watching them slowly and gradually ditch me and exclude me and ignore me and go out of their way to show me that they don’t care about my existence has been the biggest fucking emotional blow. people outside of this group told me that they were awful people and bad for me and so incredibly toxic and guess what? i defended them and now the fact that i was wrong makes me want to tear my fucking guts out. i spent three whole years with these group of people only for them to decide in the past six months that i’m not worth it. i feel so fucking empty. one of those people was supposed to be my best friend of nine years. and i still fucking love him despite all of that, y’know? i love all of them even though they have made me sob every night over the latter course of a school year and feel unsafe in a club that i was once prominent in and that’s so bullshit and so unfair but it’s fine it’s whatever. and like, i should have seen it coming, because the build up was them treating me so fucking badly. it’s an ongoing joke that despite being rank 1 in my class, i’m.. an idiot? like it’s a joke that haha i’m short and haha i’m stupid and haha i can’t interact with people and i have debilitating anxiety and i make mistakes all the time and i’m the ditzy lesbian of our friend group, even when i express that i hate being called stupid but they just insist that they’re joking with me and that i’m too sensitive. i can count on one hand the amount of times they picked at me for my eating habits even though at least one of them knew i have a pretty bad ED. they picked and picked and picked at me and then when we have our first fight they all immediately fucking drop me, and i still love them and i still try to fix everything but suddenly i’m not worth the effort anymore. it’s draining. i’m so, so tired. outside of the toxic group(tm), anyone that was close to me as i friend (or otherwise) i ended up pushing away or drifting away from or fucking up the relationship on my own, and even if it’s ‘Okay’ on objective terms, to know that i fucked up something that was once really really nice and now i can’t even feel comfortable opening up a message first because i know i’ll get left on read or, even worse, have to read a one-sided, hardly caring/pitying conversation makes me just not want to bother at all. it’s so hard to reach out to the few people i know do kinda sorta care for me, but the fact that i’ve been absent for this long? it makes the few relationships i have strained and forced so i can’t even bring myself to put myself out there knowing that it’s only going to make me feel worse

working makes me?? so miserable ????? i worked at pizza hut up until the beginning of june and while i was good at it and i had friends there, i didn’t get paid enough so i had to quit. i started a new job. i fucking hate it. i actively dread going there. people refuse to train me or are incredibly fucking disrespectful/unfriendly to me if i ask for help or just don’t know how to do something. i feel bad ranting about it because every single person i’ve asked for advice from just says that i’ll get used to it or it’s in my head, which.... regardless of whether or not it is, making me feel like it’s my fault or that i’m being crazy makes me feel sooo fucking sick and like i’m actually insane. i heard it enough from my friends this year. i’m so tired of being blamed for things happening that, while they might be worsened by the anxiety in my head, it isn’t JUST THAT. sometimes things are just BAD but they’re not because I’M making them seem bad, they genuinely just are!!!! not everything is in my head !!!!! things can be upsetting with it being solely because i’m fucking anxious every moment of every fucking day !!!!! regardless i need money so i can’t quit but goddammit i hate every minute i’m not at my house.

all in all, i just feel so, so fucking alone. i have friends on here, and i’m so thankful for them - i’m so grateful to every lovely message i’ve gotten on anon and i’m so thankful for my buds on discord and i’m so thankful for streams and my stream team and i’m so thankful for people who follow me for musicals or art and actively talk to me about them - but it’s just.. here. when i log off and step back from my computer, i’m just immediately fucking alone again. if i were to disappear one day, no one would know what happened to me or where i went, and eventually no one would even care, given that anyone even noticed my absence to begin with. i’m so replaceable. i’m literally just another fucking face on here. another cutesy musical blog ran by a very, very fucking dysfunction kid

anytime i’m shown any shred of kindness, i just. start sobbing. like i cannot even interact like a person, or hell, like the person i was a year ago. this girl i’d been talking to momentarily told me that for as much as i’m there for other people, i need someone that i can jsut lean on and have care about me, and like. i cried. so much. when was the last time i had that? when was the last time i just had someone, anyone just to be here for me? and again, not saying it in a way like i deserve that or am entitled to that, but god fucking damnit i haven’t just rant on and on or spilled my feelings to someone without worrying that they’d get upset with me or deflect it back onto themselves in so, so long. i just want someone to listen. i just want someone to care.

and it’s who i try to be, all the time. the person that cares, the person that listens, and that just might be part of the problem. i say this all the time, and it’s a mantra and probably one of the main highlighted points that comes with my depression: i put so, so much out, so much energy and love and time, and i get almost nothing back. and it takes suuuuch a fucking toll. in such, it causes me to retreat and suddenly just cut people off or distance myself because i’m scared of letting myself get hurt again because the emotional turmoil i go through genuinely, genuinely almost fucking kills me every time. when that whole thing happened with my friend group, i went days without eating and just. wouldn’t talk. wouldn’t do anything other than school. because school is my safety, i can always rely on school, school will always be there - so i threw myself in school and overworked myself and overmaxed my credit hours and like. if i didn’t have that, if i didn’t have my classes, i really don’t know if i’d be here right now. and it sounds dramatic and i’m sorry, i hate it too, but it’s just the fucking truth. but - yeah again, i’m the person that’s always there. that’s why i never fucking rant like this on here. i don’t want to be triggering, and i don’t want to cause people distress, and i want people who are having a hard time to see my blog and maybe feel a little bit better and feel happy and have fun. but in the end, this is the only place i have to scream out into the void because i genuinely don’t have a space to do that in real life anymore. nothing. there’s nothing else.

i’ve always said that when i go to college, i’m just going to do a hard-reset and change up everything. reinvent myself. but sometimes i really don’t see myself getting out of this year alive, or at the very least in one piece. i’m already fucked in so many regards. i’m predestined to be an alcoholic. my brain is actively trying to fucking detonate itself. i’ve never been in love, and sometimes i worry that i never will be. i cry and cry and cry out, but i can’t get help. my solutions to problems is just working until i forget or sleeping until i forget or just finding an alternate way to fucking forget. everything that i’m looking forward to is so incredibly temporary or so short lived or so pathetically small in the grand scheme of things. i have to stay alive to see my AP scores on july 5th. i have to stay alive because i promised my friends i’d stream on this day. i have to stay alive because i promised addie i’d go see this show with her in september. but it’s not for me. it’s never for fucking me. i couldn’t care less.

i’m not going to ever kill myself because i’m too scared of the pain or the symptoms that i’ll feel right up to it. but otherwise, i really don’t know why else i’m obligated to stay here.

#suicide mention #ed mention #self harm mention #depression mention #overdose mention #read more #irrelevant #garbage.txt #this was more for my own personal catharsis(?) than anything else #i ended up sobbing in the subway parking lot today and i just.#needed to summarize 2019 for myself #get it all out there #because i feel like i never get to talk to the full extent of how bad i feel at any given moment #i'm always the happy go lucky wacky lesbian #and even after this if you're a person who knows me irl you know i'll be acting the exact same way i always do #it's just who i am at this point #a stupid fucking facade #i'm sorry for new followers i promise i don't always do this #this is the first in like forever #my content is primarily musicals and memes tee hee #i'll probably delete this later #or archive #please don't feel super obligated to reply to this #it's not why i wrote it #it was just to vent because yknow #like i said #don't really have any other way to do that these days #long post #longpost #sorry if parts of this don't make sense i'm not proofreading it for my own sanity

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shield-agent78 · 5 years

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Linguistics Chapter 4: Fight For It

Summary: Ema is a linguists specialist who works at the newest SHIELD facility in upstate New York. She has been trough a lot of hard times. Soon she meets a super soldier with a metal arm that she can’t get enough of and the feeling is very mutual. This is my first fan fiction. Enjoy! I do not own any of the Marvel characters. I own Ema and the plot.

Paring: Bucky X OC (Ema)

Warnings: Fluff, language, PTSD, some jealousy, mentions of sex

A/N: Please tag and re-blog so I can share my work with others. I appreciate any comments. This is also posted on Wattpad Thanks!

Fall had finally arrived to New York. That meant changes in weather, leaves and missions. Now this might not be new for those who actually experience these wonders, however for me being from Louisiana this was a real change. I was usually in shorts to past Halloween, now I was pulling my favorite fall outfits. Today it was an my tall brown boots, brown leggings, and my favorite longer silk shirt.

The compound was too quiet today allowing me to finish my reports in record time, especially since my workload had been cut down to just one person instead of three being that Steve and Natasha were in Nepal. Therefore, I wondered the compound discovering various labs, visiting with Tony who had made one of his rare appearances and now working my way to the private gym that belonged to two super soldiers. As I approached it I heard music as well as the muffled hits of a punching bag. I smiled knowing who was already in there, I stood leaning against the door frame biting my lip while watching Bucky hit a boxing bag into pieces. His chestnut hair pulled up half way. His body covered with a maroon tee shirt while a pair of dark gray sweatpants hung low on his waist. He hung another bag onto the chain and began yet another brutal attack on it as I watched from the doorway. He was focused as sweat ran down the side of his face. I bit my bottom lip watching him train.

I decided he needed a break. Training is great, but I think I could offer a distraction. I quietly walked up behind him and put my arms around his waist. I felt Bucky stiffened for a moment but a smirk appeared on his face. A couple of lighter hits on the bag occurred as I hung onto his waist.

“Does this mean your coming to train with me?” He asked punching the bag some as his blue orbs found my eyes in the gym mirror wall. I gave him a flirtatious smile.

“Not a chance solider. Just taking in the view.” His chest rumbled with amusement as he gave the bag a few more lighter hits. I bit my lip again as I watched his eyes dart from me to the punching bag. I moved his shirt up to the middle of his back and began kissing and licking up his back and back down to his waist. Bucky immediately stopped what he was doing and placed his hands on the bag with his eyes closed. He breathed deeply. By the third time, of me moving my lips up his back he was tired of my teasing. Within a matter of seconds, I found myself spun around against the gym mirrored wall. His lips crashing into mine making sure his tongue explored my mouth. The kiss deep and full of desire that I hadn’t felt from him before.

My hands distinctly went to his hair as I moaned out his name almost like a prayer. "Ja-mes." Bucky broke the kiss and looked me up down.

(Bucky POV)

"Always hated being called James but god I love the way you say it." I licked his lips and looked at Ema. "I have been meaning to ask you something now for a while now," I reached my right hand over my neck taking off my dog tags before placing it around her hers. "Would you to be my best girl?" Our foreheads now touching.

"I think you already know my answer sergeant," she said as she reached up and gently stroked my face.

“Want to hear it from you Doll.”

“Yes, James. I’m yours,” she said with a smile. I looked into her eyes and then closed them as she kissed me.

(October... Ema POV)

Bucky had taken over a small apartment in the compound so that when he came home late from a mission he could crash there for the night. It also helped him if he needed to get away from everyone. Over the last month, I had seen him struggle with PTSD and helped him as much as I could. I found him there late one morning watching T. V. He asked me to stay with him as I curled up to him on his leather couch watching his newest favorite movies the Die Hard trilogy. By the middle of the second movie he had fallen asleep with his arm draped over me in a protective manner. Three missions in less than a month had him exhausted. “Baby let me up,” I groaned as I tried to move his left arm off me.

"Hey doll where are you going?" He voice gruff from sleep.

"Home and you are going to bed." I said giving him a little smile.

"I rather you come to bed with me." Well this was a first. I gaped at him a moment.

“Augh wh-what did you just say?” Bucky just gave me a chuckle.

“I said I would rather you come to bed with me,” his blue eyes flashing and lip turned up into a little smirk.

“You know that is something I would may consider doing Sergeant however I don’t think we need to discuss it now with you being so tired.” He grabed my hand and pulled me back down on the sofa as he propped himself up with his left arm.

“It’s real simple Ema especially after yesterday“ I slowed hard.

“I have no ideal what you mean James,” I teased.

“Oh I think you do. ‘Cause me and you both know we are both not that innocent sweetheart.” I broke into a grin.

“Where would you come up with that idea?”

“I don’t know maybe because of us making out in the supply closet yesterday when we were expose to be doing inventory in the lab. If I recall you and I both know where our hands were.”

“Ye-yes it’s just ugh because you had been gone for a while. Besides I didn’t know you were even thinking about that and well and you see ugh…” my lips rambled. James just looked at me in amuzement cocking his eyebrows at me. I guess he finally got enough. He placed his right hand in my cheek caressing it softly. I closed my eyes and lent into his touch.

“Trust me Doll I ant going to do anything you don’t want me to do.”

Yes I know,” I signed. But oh how I want you too.

“Besides we don’t have to be in any hurry I just thought we should tal-…”

For some stupid reason blurted out my thoughts currong him off. “You got a condom? If not we could wait until I see the doc tomorrow and I can take care of it then?” I gaped and blushed at my own words. Bucky gave me a grin as I dropped my head into the crook of his neck. “Sorry mouth overload. I think it’s an Louisiana trait but I can’t swer by it. Oh god James I really didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”

“As tired as I am I think after your doctors appointment is good; besides it’s fine Doll. We don’t have to rush into this.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled into his neck. His chest rumbled in a quiet chuckle. I leaned down and gave him a soft kiss on his lips and stood up making my way to his door.

"Sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

“Night Doll.”

————————————————————————

Hours had passed since I had left Bucky. Natasha and I were working together fixing supper in the compound kitchen. Steve sat at the bar going over files for a new mission of rouge H.Y.D.R.A operatives. I had just put the hamburgers on to cook but was stopped by F.R.I.D.A.Y., "Ema, Mr. Barns has asked you to come to his room." I looked at the clock, 5 PM. "Ya ok tell him I'm on my way." Steve gave me a grin and took over the burgers so I could go and check on Bucky.

Several moments later I was standing outside his door. “F.R.I.D.A.Y unlock Barns door for me.” The locks clicked and I walked inside closing it behind me. I found him where I had left him, still on the couch. His body flinched and shook.

"EMA! GET AWAY!! NO!!"

I jumped at the sound of his scream and ran to him, shaking him. "Buck. Buck. Bucky!!" I shook him again trying to wake him. He opened his eyes in a flash his face cold and void of emotion. "Oh God, this isn't good." I jumped back. Bucky quickly stood up and looked at me. It was like he didn't know me for a moment. I backed away from him the back of my legs hitting the table behind me.

The super soldier took two giant steps towards me letting out a loud grunt. In one swift movement, he reached his metal arm around my right arm flipping me over the table onto the ground. "Ouch!!" Pain shot through my body. That would leave a bruise. Now flat on my back, I tried to plan out my next move. His eyes locked onto me like I was his target. I looked up at him and yelled. "BUCK! SNAP OUT OF IT!! IT'S ME, EMA!!!" Bucky reached down to grab me again but stopped. I took a deep breath. He blinked his eyes trying to fight off the confusion.

"Jesus, Ema. What did I do?" His hands and voice shook as he helped me up and immediately let go of me. I stood there rubbing my arm. I looked down at the floor as I tried to control my breathing. "Are you ok? Baby, please say something. What did I do?" I looked up to see concern and anger flooding his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair as I let out a breath.

"I'm ok," I said still rubbing my arm. "You had a nightmare and I tried to wake you and. . ." Bucky took a deep breath and sat back down on his couch.

"Let me see your arm." Oh no, I thought. I knew that tone. The forceful one he used with the task force. I showed him with reluctance. It was already starting to bruise. He sat there for a moment looking down while running his hand through his hair. "I'm so sorry . . . I'm so sorry."

"James it's fine. I've had worse from training with you and Steve." I lied.

"You're not a good liar you know." He stated his blue eyes shoting up to mine.

Bucky pulled me onto his lap. He looked at my arm once more and gritted his teeth. "You need to stay away from me. Far away. I can't be with you." He spoke with a firm voice trying to hold back his anger with himself.

"What the hell, Barns? Just because of this." It came out harsh and I knew it, nor did I care. "Do you realize what you mean to me and I know you feel the same way." I pulled away from him and got up so I could face him.

"I could hurt you or worse yet kill you! Don't you get it, Ema!" I jumped. He knew he had scared me. He bit his lip. I knew it was pain talking and PTSD, not Bucky.

"No, you don't get it! I've been there. No not like you Buck but yes I do know! You're scared, so am I, but it our relationship and it is worth the risk." Angry tears began to fill my eyes.

"You know nothing about this," he snapped at me now with that forceful tone again. "Just leave, get out!!" His jaw was clenched.

I blinked away tears as he sat staring at me. I turned and left slamming his apartment door behind me. I quickly made my way down the hall to the open kitchen area of the joint apartments. Steve and Natasha looked up from the files they were going over and gave me concern looks as I walked towards the bar area. I knew that they had most likely heard everything. I held up my head, tears now streaming down my face that I quickly brushed away. Natasha left her seat st the bar and quickly moved over to me pulling me into a small side hug.

Natasha's POV:

It took me about two seconds to figure out what just happen. I held on to Ema for a moment as we heard heavy footfall coming down the hall. Bucky soon appeared in the common room. I let go of Ema and turned to face him.

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#bucky #buckybarnes #bucky barnes #Avengers

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