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not-a-space-alien · 2 years

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Magnanimous Moonrise Chapter 7M

Story masterpost

Finally the counterpart to chapter 7S! bath time, get that rubber ducky 🦆

PS for anyone who's keeping an eye out for Watch Your Step, I promise I will get back to that eventually! Truth be told I want to make sure I have time to give All Creatures Great and Small the attention it deserves, because I want to be a bit more careful with it! This story is just something for my brain to chew on while I'm busy with classes and everything. But WYS has some things coming up I'm very excited to finally get to! In the meantime enjoy vampires 🧛‍♂️🦇

Content/Content warnings for this chapter: Nonconsensual bondage/restraint/being trapped, gag/muzzle, aftermath of torture, cuts, burns, nonsexual nudity, heavy emotional distress, suicidal ideation/euthanasia discussion

Nick was talking to hunters, trying to convince them to come down. That wasn't good. That meant the coffin would be opened, and when the coffin was open, Valen was in danger.

As much as he'd initially hated being locked in the coffin, it was now the closest to safe he ever felt. Usually Nick needed him to be outside the coffin to do anything to him. These days he was always in pain, but newer, more intense, fresher pain awaited him outside the coffin.

And it wasn't like he had the strength to move around under his own power much these days anyway. Restraints barely did anything. If you left him free on the bare cement with all the doors to the house unlocked, he doubted he would be able to even make it up the stairs to mount an escape.

The only one that truly mattered anymore was the one that never came off. The muzzle, which kept him from using the hypnotic powers of persuasion, the one thing that he could potentially use to ever gain any leverage again.

Nick had told him he was going to replace Valen soon. That he wasn’t keeping up with his experiments anymore. He said it accusingly, as though Valen should feel guilty for not being able to close up all his wounds overnight anymore.

Maybe I could if you fucking fed me.

It’d been on his mind a lot because he was anxious about how Nick was going to dispose of him. Maybe he would just kill him, which would be all right he supposed, but maybe he would just keep him in the coffin and toss him in a storage room somewhere in case he wanted him again. Maybe the coffin would really live up to its name and he would bury Valen.

That was probably the worst one Valen could imagine. As long as whatever Nick did wasn’t worse than being buried alive, left to suffocate in the dirt for all eternity, he felt like he could handle it.

He was too tired to be that anxious about it. Being anxious about it had never saved him before.

He turned his head, looking hazily at the furnace in the room. The silver Nick had put in it earlier was almost molten. Valen knew what he was going to do with it, and he wasn’t looking forward to it. That was probably why he was trying to recruit some hunters to supervise him.

Although he’d been complaining that Valen was too dirty that he couldn’t measure the width and length of his injuries, which was the entire point of his current experiment: to see the effects of silver on the pace at which his wounds healed.

Valen was also a scientist, and a better one than Nick at that. He knew bad experimental design when he saw it. He would have been insulted that Nick was torturing him just to get data that was nigh-on unusable, if he hadn’t been so preoccupied with the throbbing ache of pain over every cell in his body.

He tried to squirm, just like he had every day for the past few months, and just like every time before, he was restrained and couldn’t find any position that minimized his discomfort. He cried out in frustration. It was almost worse when Nick wasn’t there. At least he had something to distract him, even if it was just watching Nick prepare the next torture.

There were multiple sets of footsteps on the stairs. No, no, no. That wasn’t good. He’d been hoping Nick wouldn’t be able to get anyone to come down. He would just open the coffin at night when he knew nobody would catch him anyway, but it would at least buy Valen a few hours.

Lex and Ari came down the stairs behind Nick. That was different. He hadn’t seen them in a long time. They ignited a set of strange feelings inside him. He hated them, he was scared of them, he yearned for them to help him. He found his entire body shaking.

Lex looked at him, disgust plastered on her face, and she turned away, a hand on her mouth.

Please don’t look at me like that, please please.

“Thank you so much,” said Nick with relief. “I really cannot continue anything until he’s been cleaned up. It’s interfering with measurements. Here, if you would be so kind as to unlock the cage and bring him over here.”

His heart sank. Of course they were going to open the coffin. It’d been foolish to hope otherwise. Well, he knew what they had planned. As long as they didn’t do anything worse than what they were going to do with the silver, he felt like he could handle it. Silver wasn’t even the worst pain; that had to be the device that mimicked the feel of the sun, which Nick called his Sun Gun. Valen shuddered to think what the actual sun would be like. As long as they didn’t do anything as bad as the sun, he felt like he could handle it.

Ari took the key to the coffin from Nick and knelt down, unlocking his cage. “There, just position him right on there, if you please, this won’t take very long at all,” said Nick’s voice behind her.

“All right,” said Ari, and the lid came up.

Please, Ari. Please. You don’t have to rescue me. You don’t have to be kind to me. Please just be a little less cruel. That’s all I need. Please. Just a little less.

She lifted him up by the metal collar around his neck. Not a good start. Please, Ari, please please please. Lex, please. Remember? Remember when you thought I might be good? Remember when you thought it wasn’t necessary to torture me? Remember when it made you uncomfortable?

Ari was looking at him. It was terrifying when any of them looked at him, but Ari’s face was always so harsh and judgemental. Like she wouldn’t approve of you no matter what you did. He cringed, trying to curl in on himself to protect himself from whatever was coming, feet barely brushing against the floor.

“All right,” said Ari, and the world whirled around as she lifted him up, hefting him over her shoulder.

This was different. Panic tightened in his stomach. Ari was carrying him up the stairs. This was different. He never left the basement. Different could be good, or it could be bad. The worst thing he could think of was they would leave him in the sun. As long as Ari didn’t do anything worse than that, he felt like he could handle it.

“Um,” said Nick. “Ari, where are you–”

“I’m taking him to the bathroom,” Ari snapped. “Because I can tell it would upset Lex if you did it like that.”

The bathroom? Valen wondered vaguely. If he didn’t know better, he would guess they were going to have him take a shower. What else could they do in the bathroom? More drowning maybe? But the basement had a sink, which Nick had used for that before.

Valen’s field of view was taken up by Lex’s excited, kind-looking face. He didn’t trust it. He didn’t trust that face ever since the words It’s gonna be all right came out of that mouth to kick off his months of captivity and torture.

Nick disappeared from Valen’s periphery as he presumably blocked the door, because Ari stopped in her tracks. “Hold on. I insist we do it in the basement.”

“Nick.”

“Y-yes?”

Ari lifted one foot up slightly. “Do you see this foot?”

“Y…yes?”

“I just got it out of a boot not that long ago. But I will break it off in your ass if I have to. Get out of the way.”

Valen wanted so, so badly for Ari not to be angry at him. She talked to everyone like that when they did anything she disliked even a little. He was so scared of doing something that would invoke her ire. He was terrified at the prospect of her easily crossing the line into making good on those threats…especially when she was carrying him.

Nick reappeared in Valen’s vision as he stepped to the side. Valen looked down, lip wobbling, trying to keep his eyes on the steps as Ari carried him up, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from flickering up to Lex. Please, Lex. Even if it’s a lie, tell me it’s going to be OK. I need to hear it. I need to believe it for just a fucking moment.

Lex dashed ahead, and the light dimmed. Lex had closed the blinds in the living room. His gut twisted with agonized hope. Did he dare let himself expect that maybe this wouldn’t hurt?

Ari pivoted to go up a second set of stairs, given Valen a full view of the living room. There were four hunters sitting around, looking at the group coming up from the basement in a confused way. Electric terror surged through him at the thought of being at the mercy of a group of seven hunters at once, most of whom were men. He knew the kinds of things men liked to do to helpless captives.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ari huffed, and she carried him up, away from those four new sets of eyes.

This was too much. He’d never been upstairs before. He didn’t know what was up there. It could be anything. It could be even more hunters. It could be some worse form of torture he couldn’t even imagine.

“Sh,” said Lex.

Of course, Valen thought. As long as my suffering isn’t making you uncomfortable, then it’s fine. If I cry out, then you tell me to be quiet instead of helping me.

Valen had already forgotten they were going to the bathroom. He’d been too busy worrying about the terrifying unknown that was the upstairs of the house, but he heard water running.

Ari pounded on the door. “Yo!”

“Geez, what?” said a voice from inside it.

“Get out. We need to use the bathroom.”

The faucet squeaked off, the sound of towels ruffling, the sound of the door opening. Valen was stuck facing where Lex was on the stairs. “Geez, fine,” said a man’s voice from inside the bathroom.

Nick appeared on the stairs behind Lex. Neither of the women could see him, only Valen, and he was giving him a death glare. He vanished as Valen was carried away from the stairs and into the bathroom.

He heard Nick’s voice start to deliver a plea for them to make it quick, before he was cut off by the door closing and locking.

Despite the situation, Valen found himself smug about that. Just a little. He would take whatever victories he could get.

He snapped back to reality and the absolute terror that accompanied it as Ari set him down on the toilet. She turned her back on him and started running the water in the shower. “Go ahead, Lex. Since I can tell you want to.”

Oh that didn’t sound good. Want what? Want to do what to him? Based on their interactions at the start of his captivity, he thought these two might be among the less hateful vampire hunters, but who knows what could have changed in the intervening months.

He froze as Lex leaned in, extending a hand to put it on his knee. He tried to lean away, so, so scared of what those hands could do to him in his weakened and helpless state.

“Sh,” she said. “Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. Do you want to take a shower?”

A shower? He had a list of things he wanted a mile long, and a shower was pretty far down on the list. It was still on the list, though. It also seemed dangerous to admit he wanted anything. Typically when he nodded in response to that question, Nick simply laughed and took said thing away from him.

She took his elbow. “Can you stand up for me?”

Could he? That was a good question. He didn’t want to try. Pretty much every movement irritated some injury he had, either internal or external. Lex reached a second arm around his back, giving him a gentle push. I guess we’ll find out…

His knees knocked as he fully supported his own weight for the first time in what felt like decades. It had always been shackles, or cages, or gurneys, or leashes that bore his weight.

It was pathetic how far he’d fallen that standing on his own gave him a sense of triumph, even with a human helping him, even when he was still muzzled and cuffed, but it did. I did it. I’m standing up.

He turned his head and saw a ghastly creature, a monster with sunken red eyes, covered in blood and grime and dirt, with open wounds and oozing sores and bones visible beneath its skin.

He knew on some level it was the mirror, but his brain just refused to register it. It was too horrific. The visage was so horrifying that for a brief moment Valen thought I’m glad that creature is muzzled so it can’t bite me.

He collapsed, no longer able to carry out the Herculean feat of supporting himself. The hands guided him to leaning on the counter. “All right, you’re okay. Just relax.”

Relax? He wanted to throw up, and probably would have if his aching, hollow stomach had digested anything besides its own lining in the past few months.

“You don’t have to talk to him like he’s a puppy, Lex. He’s still a serial killer, he doesn’t really deserve what we’re doing, so–”

“Wh–” Lex sputtered. “You’re the one who brought him upstairs!”

“Only because you made me!”

They’re arguing. They’re arguing. About me. Please, please don’t argue. They would take it out on him, for sure. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to be nonthreatening, unobtrusive, not an issue.

He startled as the hand shifted to his shoulder, eyes snapping open. Lex’s kind face was looking into his eyes. “Do you want to take your underwear off?”

The water in the shower was running. He kept drifting in and out, forgetting that they were apparently trying to give him a shower. That's why they wanted to take his underwear off. Not for anything nefarious.

He wanted to trust that kind face so badly he could cry. But the echoes of the heartless It’s gonna be all right she’d used to subdue him earlier racked his body. He shuddered uncontrollably.

He was embarrassed. He’d never been a proud man, but he’d also never been denied the most basic rights before. He didn’t want to be naked in front of them–at least, not like this. Not baring his aching, punished flesh to their hands while he was helpless and vulnerable, for them to do whatever they saw fit to him.

“You don’t have to. But I’ll clean them for you if you want.”

They’re just going to give you a shower. They’re going to give you a shower. It took him a second to figure out how to even take his underwear off with his hands cuffed in front of him, but he was able to manage by sliding it down a bit at a time on alternating sides.

They dropped to his ankles. There. He trembled even more, unsure of if he’d made the right decision. But did it really matter? They would do whatever they were going to do to him regardless.

“All right, you're doing great,” said Lex, and she knelt. “Ari, do you have a handcuff key?"

Ari took out a keyring and handed it to her. She unlocked the manacles around his ankles, then stood, supporting him by the elbow again. “All right.”

She helped him step out of the ankle cuffs and underwear, leaving him completely nude except for handcuffs and the muzzle. It was hard to keep his balance, even with her there at his elbow. Her eyes swept up and down him afresh, prompted by the removal of his last shred of clothing. He also acutely felt Ari’s eyes on him. His face grew hot, flush with humiliation and fear. They were assessing him, taking in every inch of him. Deciding what to do. Please at least be gentle. Please at least don’t make it hurt as much as you can.

Ari whispered to Lex, but Valen’s keen hearing of course picked it up. “Should we just kill him?”

Valen felt himself hiccupping from fear. There was nowhere he could go. He was trapped between them.

“No!” said Lex.

“Are you saying that because you’re thinking of his best interests, or your own?”

She looked at Valen. He looked away, lowering his head. He couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. He couldn’t look at her.

“Well…” said Lex. “I mean, we could ask him.”

What? No, no, no. He couldn’t make a decision. He hadn’t made a decision in months. He didn’t have the capability to do so anymore. Even just deciding to take his underwear off had been too much for him. They were looking at him. They wanted him to tell them what to do. It was too much, too much.

“Do you want us to kill you?” Lex said softly. “We’ll make it painless. If you want it…to just end.”

Valen had thought about this quite a lot over the course of his captivity here. He’d never wanted to die before. And at first he’d been thinking that wanting to die was a selfish decision. He might be the only vampire–the only person–on the planet with both the motivation and skills to try and shut down the blood farms in a nonviolent way, with a blood substitute. He’d been lucky enough to get formal training in the sciences, to have connections in the blood processing facilities, to marry into nobility where he had access to money. It was possible no one else could do it. He should try at any cost, for the world.

But…

He did want it to end. He really did. He hadn’t realized how badly he wanted that until just now, when an end of any sort was actually in sight.

Maybe he could be a little selfish. And what if he said no? What would he be committing himself to? Would he ever get this opportunity again?

Lip quivering, he nodded, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Ari sighed heavily, as though she hadn’t expected him to say yes. “Shit. Okay. All right.”

Panic set in as Lex’s gentle hands turned him around to face Ari, who was pulling a wooden stake out of somewhere.

“It’ll be fast,” said Lex. “Then the pain will be all over.”

Wait, he thought. Wait, wait, oh God, what did I just do?

The wooden stake came to rest over his heart. Ari looked like she was about to say something before the killing blow. The fear washing over him at this–being helpless under a hunter’s killing weapon–was too much, and he tried to get away, tried to step back, tried to beg for mercy.

Lex’s hand came around his back, trapping him, stopping him in his tracks. He kept his hands up, chest heaving, terrified and torn. “Did you…change your mind?”

He nodded vigorously, quivering.

Ari sighed, slipping the stake back into her belt. “Okay, then. Let’s just forget that and wash you off.”

W-wait, wait wait wait. Now he was scared in the opposite direction, that now he’d just committed himself to living through whatever hell was coming next. He’d probably be tortured for years and years and unable to think of anything other than this one opportunity he’d had to escape it. But he had no way to communicate anything more complex than yes or no.

“How’s that?”

He flinched as he came back to reality and realized Lex had his wrist in her gentle hand, holding it under the stream of water. To test the temperature, he realized.

“Too hot? Too cold?”

He shook his head.

“Up you get, then.”

Even with Lex helping him keep his balance, he banged his foot on the rim of the tub. The world tumbled over as he fell into the stream of water. Lex’s hands pulled him right side up.

“How about a bath, then,” said Ari behind her.

Lex guided him into a sitting position. He folded his legs meekly, watching as Lex plugged the tub and set it to fill. “Jesus Christ, Ari, he can barely stand.”

Don’t draw attention to it. Please don’t draw attention to how easy it is to hurt me.

Nick’s voice was at the door. “Is everything quite all right in there?”

Valen turned away. Please don’t let him in. Please just give me a break from him.

“Yeah,” said Ari.

“How much longer are you going to be? I have timepoints that, ideally–”

“Don’t come in, we’re having gay sex.”

Valen’s head was swimming. That was a joke, right? To keep Nick out of the bathroom? It didn’t make any sense. He was pretty sure he’d have noticed if there were any gay sex happening…then again, he’d never had gay sex and didn’t really know what it was supposed to look like, so maybe he just hadn’t noticed?

The lukewarm water rose around him. “There we go,” said Lex. “Does that feel good?”

He silently brought his cuffed hands to rest on the bathtub rim. It doesn’t feel bad, at least.

“Here,” said Lex, laying the bar of soap next to them. “You can do it yourself, if you want.”

No, no. Please don’t ask me to do something. He remembered soap, a relic from a time when he was a person instead of a gaunt, broken creature whose only purpose was to be tormented for others’ benefit. She’d given him a task. He had to try.

It slipped out of his hand on the first try.

How fucking far I’ve fallen. I can’t do anything to help myself. Not even this.

“That’s okay,” said Lex. “You’re doing great.”

I’m obviously not. I��m obviously doing very, very bad.

She brought Ari’s keys around again, and tugged his wrists forward.

Was he dreaming? Did Lex intend to unlock his wrists? The ankles were one thing, but the wrists? Chained wrists was the bare minimum security needed to stop him from trying to take the muzzle off.

“Be careful,” said Ari in a warning tone, obviously thinking the same thing.

“Come on,” said Lex, “he’s clearly not in any state to do much of anything.”

Stop drawing attention to it, please please.

The handcuffs slipped off. His hands were free.

Did he dare hope maybe the muzzle would come off too? It seemed such an impossibly lofty goal, but so had the handcuffs coming off. He cautiously brought his hands up towards the muzzle. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

“No,” said Lex softly. “I’m sorry, that has to stay on.”

He let out a pitiful whine like a dog. He pretended not to hear her, shaking hands brushing against the grate over his face.

Lex gently grabbed his wrists and lowered his hands down into the soap and water. “I’m sorry. That has to stay on. I’m sorry.” She twisted to look at Ari. “Are you sure we can't take the muzzle off?”

Why did I ever dare to hope it might come off? Why are you daring to hope?

Ari sighed and sat on the toilet. “Lex, you know he could just open his mouth and tell us to kill each other, and we’d have to do it.”

The worst part was, Valen could not even tell himself it was unfair to have the muzzle on anymore. He might tell them to just kill each other. He wasn’t proud of it, he never would have thought himself capable of such cruelty towards humans, but he knew in his heart he would probably take whatever scraps of opportunity fate afforded him at this point. The muzzle was going to stay on.

“He…He might not. He might not want to do that.”

“If he didn’t before, he certainly does now.”

Valen didn’t make eye contact. He couldn’t. Lex clearly wanted him to. He just stared into the bathwater.

“Okay,” said Lex, getting up. “All right, let’s clean you up, then.”

There was a detachable shower head, so Lex removed it and snaked it down over his head, unplugging the drain and letting the water wash over him for a few minutes, the murky residue swirling down the drain.

It felt…nice. A little bit. The water was at a good temperature. The water pressure was gentle. He did his best with the bar of soap, uncoordinated hands rubbing it along his body.

When the water started to run clear, Lex plugged the tub again. “There you go. You’re already looking a little bit better.”

Lex got up and went across the room. He sat there staring into the water, tracking the bubbles. Maybe…Maybe…

Ari saw his hands going for the muzzle. “No. Don’t try it.”

He didn’t dare push Ari’s patience. He obediently removed his hands.

He flinched as Ari reached over, but it was just to turn off the water. The tub was full. In the newly fallen silence, he heard Lex at the sink, wiping off the manacles.

Maybe that would be nice, or at least, a little less unpleasant than before.

She came back over to the tub, kneeling. Don’t leave, Lex, please don’t leave me ever again. “Do you want me to help rub the soap on your back and stuff?”

He wanted that so very badly. To feel a gentle touch, from her of all people. Maybe he would regret it, maybe it would hurt. He nodded, committing himself to it.

She lathered some suds onto her hands, then moved behind him. He didn’t see the touch coming, so he jumped when it happened. But she rubbed his skin gently.

“There we go,” she cooed. “It feels nice, right?”

It did. It felt so nice he wanted to cry. Her touch was gentle even over his open wounds. She lifted the metal collar to wash his irritated skin underneath it. She ran her fingers through his hair. Since his eyes were closed, he could imagine better circumstances, that they were lovers, safe at home on the couch, and she was running her fingers through his hair affectionately, instead of this Hell he found himself in.

She loosened the muzzle. He did start crying then, from the relief. It wasn’t off, but it wasn’t as tight. It was the bare minimum of comfort that he’d been denied for months, that he’d started to think maybe he somehow didn’t deserve for how systemic its denial had been.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry we can’t take it off. You know you have to keep it on.”

You just had to remind me one more time.

“All right, let’s rinse you off.” Lex stood and retrieved the shower head again, setting it to a gentle stream. He leaned into it, savoring it, knowing the end was coming, thinking this might be the last pleasant sensation he could get to experience in his life.

The faucet squeaked as she turned it off. She looked down at him appraisingly, the same as she’d done before. He quivered anew under the examination.

“Okay,” said Lex. “You did so good. Now let’s just get you dried off, and then we’ll go back downstairs, okay?”

Back downstairs. Back to Nick, and the basement, and the coffin. Back to sanctioned torture during the day and under the table sadism by night.

He grabbed the fabric of Lex’s pants, sobbing into her knees. Please, please, please, please, please, please. I don’t know what you could do, but please do something. Anything but back there.

“Oh,” said Lex. “Oh, shhh, shhh, it’s okay, it’ll be okay…”

Again. She was doing it to him again. She knew it wasn’t going to be okay. She had to. But she didn’t want to see him upset. She didn’t want to see him upset. If she didn’t see it, it wouldn’t bother her, if she didn’t think about it.

She probably thought that made her compassionate.

“Alex,” Ari snapped.

Ari was irritated. But she was looking at Lex, not at Valen. “Don’t,” she said.

“What?”

She sighed and squatted, eyes drilling into Valen. The suddenness of her being level with him was startling, and he couldn’t suppress the pathetic sound that escaped his lips.

“Hey,” said Ari. “It’s not okay. I know it’s not okay. I know it’s not all right for you right now. It’s actually pretty fucked up right now. But me and Lex are going to see if we can make things a little better, okay?”

His grip on Lex tightened. What is that supposed to mean? How can you make torture a little better? What the fuck are you thinking? Despite his wild thoughts…it did comfort him a little to hear someone else acknowledge his situation was abhorrent. Ari had been the first person to say to him that what was happening to him was unacceptable, rather than just telling Nick off as though Valen weren't in the room.

“All you have to do is hang in there just a bit longer. Can you do that for me?”

Do I have a choice? He’d already told them not to kill him. He kept his grip on Lex’s legs, but managed a nod.

“Great.” She tossed a towel on top of his head. “Dry yourself off then.”

Lex helped him to sit up on the lip of the tub and lent a hand to towel him off. Ari found a blow dryer under the sink, and Lex used it to dry off his hair and the skin under the muzzle and the collar.

“All right,” said Ari, holding both pairs of cuffs. “Sorry, but it’s time these go back on. We can’t hide in the bathroom forever.”

He almost freaked out. This was the best taste of freedom and kindness he’d had in so long. Putting the cuffs on almost felt like that was making it go away. But he had no choice. And maybe, just maybe, it would be bearable if Ari and Lex could make things a little better. He held his wrists out. Ari fastened the restraints on, then knelt and did the same for his ankles.

“Do you want me to carry you back down, or walk yourself?”

Ari was clearly overestimating his capability to walk. But maybe it was nice of her to give him the chance to try, if he wanted it. He didn’t. He remained silent.

“I’ll take that as a vote for carrying.” She leaned him onto her shoulder again, picking him up and steadying him with a hand across the back of the legs.

Back downstairs. He fought off the rising wave of nausea and anxiety with each step as they descended. He could hear Nick humming, hear the rustle of ashes in the furnace. Nick still intended to carry on his experiment.

Please, Ari, please, you can start making things better right now. Please?

“Ah, there you are,” said Nick as they came downstairs. “Thank you so much, just what I needed…While you’re here, while we have him out, I could, perhaps, just very quickly get data from this timepoint–”

He pulled a stone cup of glowing hot molten silver out of the furnace, holding it at a distance. “I’m testing the effects of silver on wound healing, you see–”

He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, his desire to pour molten silver into Valen’s open wounds. What effect do you fucking think silver has on wound healing? Hey jackass, it slows it down. By a lot. Anyone could have told you that. You don’t need a p-value of 0.05 to prove it.

His thoughts could be snarky, because he didn’t voice them. He wasn't nearly that brave in actuality. The pit in his stomach felt heavy. He squirmed. Ari, please, fuck…Come on… Did you mean it?

Ari turned him around, removing the view of Nick and the threatening metal. He felt himself dumped back in the coffin, and the lid slammed closed. Without any of the extra restraints that kept him immobile inside of it.

“Ariana, I need–I need him outside of it to–”

“Sure thing.” Ari held the key to the coffin out like she was going to hand it to him, then yanked her hand back and put it in her own pocket. “But you know I just remembered there’s somewhere I gotta be real fast, so maybe I’ll come back later and help you with that.”

Ari turned and hustled Lex up the stairs before Nick could protest further. She maintained eye contact as she shut the door.

Valen felt hope in his chest. Just a flicker. It wasn’t a rescue, but it was something.

***

Tag list <3

@annablogsposts

@darlingwhump

@nicolepascaline

@oddsconvert

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@soursagas

@thecyrulik

@whumpsday

#hurt/comfort #angst #vampires #whump #vampire whumpee #whumblr #my writing

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kitchenspacenz · 10 months

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When planning a kitchen renovation, it's crucial to work with the best local kitchen providers. The kitchen's square footage should not be disregarded. The size and layout of your kitchen will determine the best type of cabinets to use.

Check out the overall dimensions of your kitchen. Is it suffocatingly small or generously spacious? This data might help you choose between installing a full wall of cabinets and going for a more airy, open look with floating shelves.

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Invest in Quality Kitchen Cabinets

The kitchen's overall look and functionality may depend heavily on the cabinets you choose. When there are so many factors to think about, it can be challenging to settle on a single option.

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katieraven · 3 years

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SOMEBODY TO DIE FOR

Summary: Elizabeth Jones is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent frequently on missions with the Avengers. When one mission backfires, she is left to deal with the resulting trauma and some unresolved affections for a certain Sergeant ...

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes/OC

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+ smut, language, graphic depictions of violence and torture, implication of non-con elements (on the antagonist's side), self-destructive behaviour, so much angst and trauma, eventual fluff and happy ending

Word count: 14638

Notes: Hello there, fellow Bucky simps, it is wonderful to see you.

I started writing this thing shortly after watching episodes 1-3 of The Falcon And The Winter Soldier, although this fic has nothing to do with the series at all, it simply served as inspiration. The story got a little out of hand and was originally meant to be a short, self-indulgent, silly little thing, but well, here we are. I do hope you enjoy it. If you want, you will find this fic on AO3 here.

Love,

Katie

P.S.: @sventeen-daybreak, in case you were wondering, this is the fic I was talking about that I couldn't shut up with.

P.P.S.: Also I am apparently overly motivated, I made a playlist for this, and there is a second moodboard.

~~~

The room is pitch dark. I hate the dark, hate when I can’t see. I can hear Steve in my earpiece, trying to coordinate this mess of a mission.

Boy, did it go wrong. So quickly, too. Civilians cry and scream above me in the upper levels. I hope they get them out before it’s too late.

“Steve, civilians on the second floor, western wing”, Bucky’s voice crackles over comms. I release the air I’ve been holding. They will get them out. I know they will.

“Got it”, Steve answers.

“Top floor’s clear”, Sam notes.

Carefully, I take a step forward. All my senses are heightened in the darkness. Gun out in front of me, I advance further into the room. Back against the wall. Slowly, my eyes are getting used to the dark, dusty room. It smells like old plastic and metal and reminds me of the copy rooms in the library I used to go to as a kid.

I start to make out the shapes of old computers around me. Lines of shelves full of old folders and crates. Jackpot.

“I found something in the basement. Looks like they used the hostages as a distraction, there’s all kinds of data down here.”

Steve’s answer crackles into my earpiece seconds later, “Anything of value?”

I step up to one of the hulking grey computers on the nearest table. My eyes are adjusting more and more to the darkness surrounding me. As dusty and unused the rest of the room looks, the computers are surprisingly clean.

“They’ve been used recently.”

“You alone down there, Jones?”, Bucky asks.

“Seem to be. Can’t hear anything other than the scuffle upstairs.”

“Be careful”, he just huffs, then I hear gunshots cracking in the distance.

It feels wrong. If the hostages really are a distraction, why would the basement be deserted?

“I don’t like this, Steve. It’s too quiet.” I murmur.

“Can you get in there, Jones? Find what they’ve been hiding?”

I hesitate. It’s not that I think I wouldn’t get in, but I’d have to let my guard down. The bad feeling in my stomach builds.

“Sam, can you have Redwing scan the basement for heat signatures? Make sure I really am alone down here?”

“Sure thing, J. Gimme one sec”, I hear him grunt.

I wait, gun in both hands. Then, “All clear.”

The gun placed next to me on the table, I gently lower my fingers on the keyboard. Clean, too. Not unused, though, the letters are fading. I reach into my pocket to pull out a flash drive and shove it into the PC's slot. The machine begins to whizz, then the screen lights up. Within a few seconds, I have a scanner running. Nothing.

“Seems they prepared for this kinda situation; I need more time if I’m to get something outta these things.”

“You have three minutes, then we have to get out of here. Take what you can get. Anything else we’ll have Tony have a look at later at the –“

An explosion shakes the building around me. I instinctually grab the gun. Dust falls around me like snow.

Then everything happens at once.

“This is a distraction, they’ve set the place to blow, Steve!”, Bucky shouts over comms. I curse, sticking the flash drive into my pocket.

“Get out of there, Buck! Jones, you too!”

Gun drawn, I make my way over to the door.

“Shit, Jones, you’ve got company!”, Sam shouts and I freeze.

Down the hall, I can hear the shuffling of boots. Three. Maybe four.

“How many”, I murmur into the earpiece.

“Four, more coming from the other side!”

I’m surrounded. This was a trap the entire time.

“Stay low, I’m coming.” I can hear the strain in Bucky’s voice, a grunt as he fights his way down to me.

“They blew the stairs, Bucky, we will have to find another way-“

“Five more from the east, Jones! Get out of there!”

I flatten my back against the wall. Breathe. You’re not going down like this. This is not the end I tell myself, feeling my pulse quicken. This is a trap. I am trapped.

Comms are silent. The first HYDRA agent steps through the door and I shoot him in the neck. He goes down and the next one follows. Shouting words in a language I only know broken pieces of, he dodges my bullet, going for my legs. One shot misses, I react only on reflex as I kick his legs out from under him and lock him between my thighs, firing at the next one.

“I’m coming, Jones.” Bucky huffs over comms.

“Busy”, I growl as the next guy pulls out a knife and swipes at my arm, narrowly missing the skin.

The door on the other side of the room bursts open and gunfire erupts around me, Bucky, I think, but I am only greeted by more Russian. Scrambling, I duck behind one of the office chairs for any kind of cover, bullets coming from both sides. One of them just misses by mere millimetres and punches a hole through the soft backrest of the chair.

It is then that I pick up what the agents are saying. It’s only bits and pieces, broken sentences, but I hear hostage and leverage and take her alive and then I hear winter soldier. And I understand.

“I can’t get to her, Steve, I can’t – I don’t know how –“ I hear him over comms. I can’t allow him to get down here. They can’t get him.

“We’re gonna get her out of there, Buck, just –“

“Listen to me!”, I grunt as an agent slams me to the ground and I barely roll out of the way of his fist coming down.

“They’re here for Barnes, you can’t come down here, they are only here for you, you need to leave –“

“I am not. Leaving you, Jones.” Bucky growls.

“It’s a fucking trap, Barnes! Quit playing hero and get out of –“ A bullet catches me in the abdomen and all the air leaves my lungs in a pained yelp.

“There’s too many of ‘em, Steve, she can’t take ‘em all!”, I hear Sam’s voice in my ear.

They’re closing in now. I scramble for my gun, but someone kicks it away against the wall. I curse and grab the knife from my belt, slashing at the arms that try to grab me. I lost track of the entire situation, I don’t know how many are in the room with me and the low, thrumming feeling of despair in my stomach tells me what I already know. I am not escaping this. I can’t get out.

“Leave,” I croak over comms again, trying desperately to at least have him not run into this trap like I did.

“Please, you need to leave –“ a second bullet pierces my shoulder and I hiss at the sharp pain erupting in my upper body.

“No fucking way, Jones.”

“Buck she’s right, this is exactly what they want, we have to find another way!”

A fist meets my jaw, my head snaps back against the wall and I taste blood from where I bit my tongue. I try to deflect the next blow but the knife in my hand swings wide, then someone twists it out of my grasp. I look up into cold, green eyes.

“Jones? Jones, do you copy?”, Bucky’s desperate voice shouts into my ear and I pray to anyone who will listen that he stays far away from these people, that Steve has some common sense. He can’t allow them to take him.

Another fist throws my head against the wall and I feel a light, warm trickle of blood tingling in my hairline. My vision is blurry. The faces before me swim and merge into one, then break apart into a million.

“Please”, I whisper.

“Jones? Tell me you’re still there. Please, Jones, I –“

“You need to leave, Bucky, please –“

I feel myself being lifted up from the ground, hands under my arms, my feet dragging on the ground. The wound makes my shoulders scream in pain. I think I’m crying.

“Promise he’ll be safe”, I manage to get out. A slap against my bruised cheek. “Stop talking”, one of the agents commands in broken English.

“Nobody will hurt him, Jones.” Steve answers calmly, but I can hear the fear below.

“No, Jones, no, please, Steve we have to help her –“

Muffled voices around me. Pain shooting through my shoulder and abdomen, my head pounding.

“Jones, please, answer me.”

My throat refuses to work. The agents keep dragging me down the hall. My eyes flutter closed.

“Jones?” Bucky’s desperate voice pierces my heart. But he will be safe. I know Steve will make sure of it.

“Jones, please. Lizzie. Tell me you’re still there.” Tears push past my eyelids. He will be safe, I keep telling myself.

“Baby, please, I’m begging you –“, a muffled sob shoots through comms and my heart breaks for him. There is so much I want to tell him, but I can’t bring my mouth to obey me. The air around me changes, the stuffiness of the basement gives way to something cleaner, more polished. They will take me and hold me hostage for the others to come save me. This is all part of their plan; it must have been from the beginning. I can’t allow them to use me to get to Bucky. He has worked so hard to be free from HYDRA, it can’t all have been for nothing.

I feel myself being placed on the bottom of a van, the motor rumbling through the metal beneath me. My eyes blink open. I can’t let them use me. The man next to me has his gun leisurely dangling from his hand. With all the strength left in me, I push myself up into a kneeling position and grab the weapon.

I repeat the words in my head like a mantra, I can’t let them use me, fear rushes over me as I put the gun against my temple and try to pull the trigger, but my fingers slip, the last bit of strength I had leaving me when I need it the most. The men around start to shout, the nearest one kicks the gun out of my hand. Another one pushes me to the ground. I know they will use me. And I can’t stop them.

“I’m sorry, Bucky”, I whisper before they rip the earpiece out. My last link to him gone. I sink down to the ground and something heavy hits my head, sending me into oblivion.

The first thing I feel is the light. It sticks pinpricks through my lids, no matter how hard I clench them shut. Artificial light piercing my brain.

The second thing I feel is the pain. My whole body aches as if I’ve been run over by a truck. I can feel the place my head hit the wall, the blood now crusty and tugging on single hairs in my neck. I feel the gunshot wounds on my shoulder and my abdomen, searing pain creeping through my body.

The third thing is the cold. They stripped me down to my underwear. I shiver against the freezing metal chair beneath me. Drawing a slow, wheezing breath I dare to open my eyes.

More sharp, artificial light. A tiled room. Someone standing over in the corner across from me, casually leaning against the wall in stark contrast to the environment. Glancing to the left and right, sensing the empty space behind me, I seem to be sitting in the middle of the chamber. I breathe in and out again, coughing as the air hitches in my dry throat.

“Oh, you have awoken”, a voice rasps in broken English and it takes me a few seconds to realise it belongs to the person across from me. The man saunters over to my chair and stops just short of touching my knees. I have to look up at him. He wears a lazy smile and his green eyes glint in the harsh lighting. My mind flashes back to earlier in the basement. The same cold, green eyes. His tac suit has been exchanged for something more put together, a collared shirt and suit pants. He feels overdressed.

He curls a calloused finger around my chin and lifts my face higher until my neck hurts from the unnatural angle. The muscles in my shoulder twitch and a pained whine escapes my lips. It only broadens his smile. I hate myself for it. I want to scream at him, claw his eyes out, punch him, anything. But my body won’t obey me, and I’m strapped to a chair.

His fingers stroke my chin and I turn my head away to somehow try and escape his touch. “Now now, don’t get all pouty on me.”

I keep my eyes locked onto a chipped tile in the wall. It has the tiniest piece broken out of it, in the top right corner.

“Pretty thing”, the agent whispers above me and a chill runs down my spine. I don’t want to know what comes next.

His hand slides over to the back of my head where my hair is still caked in blood.

The crack in the tile almost has the shape of a star if you look at it the right way. Like the star that used to be on Bucky’s arm, my delirious brain thinks. God, I hope he stays as far away from these people as possible.

“They will come get you, pretty girl, and then he will be ours again.” Please god, make him stay away from them.

“Maybe we can have him kill you. Just for fun.”

He told me what they did to him, once. On a balcony at Stark Tower, at three a.m.

“Can’t sleep, huh?” Bucky’s metal fingers clink onto the railing as he steps out to the balcony.

I shake my head. “Nah.”

The sounds of New York at night-time are rushing below us like a river, dampened only by the height we are standing at.

“Tough mission?”, he asks, and I nod absentmindedly. Too much death. Too many casualties. It was supposed to be a stealth mission in an empty warehouse and then suddenly it was outside. Crowded. The screams and looks of terror are still burnt into my brain.

I sigh and turn around, elbows propped up on the railing. I look over to him on my left.

“And you? Tough mission?”, I repeat his question.

He shakes his head. “Nightmare.”

His eyes are underlined in dark purple, his hair a mess, he is standing out here in a pair of sweatpants and a dark shirt. Must have just gotten up. He notices me studying him and looks over. I lift an eyebrow.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I can see him hesitate. His eyes dart over my face. “Intense stuff. Wouldn’t wanna keep you awake with it, too.”

I snort. “Not like I can sleep anyways.”

My eyes fall to the scratch on my arm. “I just …” Sometimes I feel like I don’t suffer enough for all the lives I fail to save. I don’t dare tell him.

“I heard what happened today.” His low rumbling voice smoothes over a rough patch on my heart, and suddenly the lump in my throat is just the tiniest bit smaller.

“There weren’t supposed to be civilians.”

I close my fists and feel the familiar sting of the nails pressing into the soft skin of my palm.

“It was supposed to be a quick mission. In, out. Just the files. No death. And especially no civilians.”

He extends a hand to my left fist and carefully pries it open. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

I look at the red crescent moons my nails left in my skin and can’t help but remember the red hole in a young woman’s forehead. My stomach lurches and I press my hand over my mouth, biting my tongue. Tasting blood.

“It’s not your fault.”

I want to believe him so, so bad.

“How do you know?” My eyes search his face for something, anything to reassure me in the fact that I couldn’t have saved them.

“How do you know I couldn’t have done better?”

His fingers still cradle mine and rub calming circles over my hand.

“Because I know you by now, Jones. And I know you always give your all.”

But it’s not enough.

“You can’t do more than that, Jones. None of us can. All we can do is do our best and save as many people as possible.”

The screams still won’t leave my brain, though.

“I see them when I close my eyes, Barnes. I see their scared faces, their still faces, empty eyes turned upwards and I can’t –“ A violent sob breaks out from my body and I curl my arms around my chest, trying to keep myself from falling apart.

Bucky slowly walks over until he’s standing in front of me, gently placing his hands on my arms.

“Jones. Hey.”

But all I hear is screams of innocent people, all I see is lives cut short. My knees give.

He catches me as I fall and then we’re sitting across from each other on the metal floor.

“Sometimes I wonder if I deserve to have this, Barnes, to live, while all their lives ended before their time”, I manage to push out. I never told anyone this before. But I feel like he would understand.

“Hey, look at me, J.”

I try to steady my breathing and look up into his slate grey eyes, cool and soothing. For a few seconds, we just sit there silently, no words, as the hiccup sobs die down slowly.

“This is our job, Jones, we try to save as many people as we can. Think about how many more had died if you hadn’t been there.”

“None, Barnes. If I hadn’t been there, if there had been no mission, they would have just continued living their lives.”

He sighs.

We don’t talk for a while. Above us the dark night sky of New York, below us the bustling nightlife.

“You still wanna know about my nightmare?”

I look up at him, pulling my arms tightly around myself. And nod.

With a sharp twinge of pain, I get pulled out of my memories.

“You listen when I talk to you, bitch.”

Three other men have moved into the cell, one of them stepping close to the agent in front of me and quietly talking to him. I can’t make out the words, but as the agent steps back, the man before me is smiling a violent smile. I can see a chipped front tooth.

“They will come get you, darling, they just need a little motivation.”

I feel the punch coming. It still hits me unprepared, head flying backwards as pain blooms from my jaw. My ears are ringing.

The agent pushes back his sleeves and pulls a phone out from his pockets.

“Look alive”, he trills as the sharp light of a camera flash hits me. I squint too late, shapes dancing over my closed lids. A second punch hits me, the eye this time. Suit-guy chuckles gleefully as he slowly stalks around me. When he crouches down next to the chair, I shiver, his lips against my ear.

“You know what we will do now, darling?”

I couldn’t answer if I wanted to. Flashes of torture ghost through my head and sickening fear crawls up the walls of my stomach.

“We’re gonna call your friends and see if that doesn’t quicken their pace. I don’t wanna sit around here waiting for Mr. Barnes to show up. We got work to do.”

My stomach lurches. “No”, I cry, and “Please”, but he just grins down at me menacingly, holding the phone out in front of him.

The room is silent except for the beeping of the call. He put the phone on speaker.

“Who is this”, Bucky’s voice shoots out after not more than three seconds and I have to bite my tongue to not cry out.

“I’m sure you figured that out by yourself, Sergeant. We have something you want. Come and get it.”

Biting my lip, I shake my head. Please don’t come. Please.

“Where the fuck is she”, Bucky growls through the speaker, and I can almost see him clench his teeth.

“Oh, don’t worry, she is right here. Darling, won’t you say hello to your friends?”

I press my lips together and glare at him. In the background, I can hear low voices, Steve, and Tony too.

“I’m not going anywhere until I know she is alive.”

One of the agents steps behind me and places both hands on my shoulders, thumb pressing into the wound. I feel the bullet under my skin, wedged deep into the flesh. White-hot pain shoots through my body and I wince, desperately trying to be quiet. I can’t give them what they want.

“Listen to me, Barnes. Here’s what is gonna happen. You will come to a location I will send you shortly, and you will come alone. You won’t put up a fight and then, maybe, we will let her go.”

The cold, thin blade of a knife is placed against my throat and my breath hitches. My nails push into my palms as I try to stay quiet, refusing to make this any easier for them.

But then the agent pushes his thumb back into my shoulder. And I can’t move away because of the blade at my throat, and I try, I try so hard not to make a sound, but the pain is blinding, and I cry out.

“See, she is here. Stubborn though, I see why you like her –“

“I will kill each and every one of you. I will make you suffer until you wish you never set foot on this godforsaken continent.“

“Fine by me. As long as you come alone. We can take you, Barnes. You’re not invincible.”

And with that, he ends the call.

The knife is removed from my throat. The thumb from my shoulder. And I hate myself. I should have pushed against the blade. They would’ve stopped, they need me alive. Instead, I caved. Made him hear me.

Because I know he will come. But I also know he will be blind with fury, and they will take him, and make him their Soldier again. All because of me.

“See, darling, that wasn’t too hard, now, was it?”

Slow, hot tears roll over my cheeks. He has the audacity to wipe them away.

“It’s amazing what love can do to people. Almost too easy to break him, now.”

I scoff. Love. “The fuck do you know about love”, I snarl at him, and he smiles, as he crouches down again.

“Enough to see it in people. Enough to use it to my advantage.”

“He doesn’t love me.”

He downright wheezes with laughter, and I hear the others chuckle underneath their breath.

“Sure he doesn’t. And here I was, thinking you were smart …”

He doesn’t love me. I’m his partner, part of the team, he’d do this for anyone. We stick our heads out for one another, it’s just how this works.

“I guess I should thank you, darling”, he muses as he gets up and saunters off to the door. “You made this almost too easy for us. He’s gonna walk right into our trap, the fool. All heart-eyes and blind.”

He stops before leaving and turns around in the doorway. “The best part of all this is that he thinks he’s saving you.”

I look at him, head pounding.

“He thinks we’ll let you go when he’s here. I don’t see why we should. Two flies with one stone, you know. No, we’re gonna bring the Soldier out, and then he will kill you. Slowly, and painfully. See, that’s the best part. He knows what he’s doing, deep down. He’ll know. He just won’t be able to do anything against it.”

With that, he turns to leave.

“Hey, Viper”, one of the agents calls after him as they begin to leave the room.

“Lemme play with her a bit?”

The “Viper” seems to contemplate, before shrugging.

“Sure, why not. Just don’t break her. We don’t want her dead too early now, do we?”

A shuddering fear runs up my spine. The others leave the room, save the one who asked. As he closes the door behind him, a wicked smile on his face, for the first time I truly understand what HYDRA does to hostages.

My throat is hoarse and dry from screaming. Every single muscle in my body is aching, the sharp pain of the gunshots burnt down to a dull, rolling pain. I can barely keep my eyes open, drifting in and out of consciousness.

The agent before me grins violently, teeth bared. He opens his mouth, but I can’t hear, it feels like my head is wrapped in cotton. He drags a knife along my shoulder, my arms, down to my wrist, just enough to make me feel it. The cut is shallow, a burning line along my body. It barely registers. I feel like I am floating above myself, looking at the scene from a stranger’s perspective. Out of touch. Aloof.

He slaps me. I know my head flies to the side, I know blood spatters onto the ground. I know all this. But I don’t feel it. My wrists are still bound. They’ve gone numb by now.

After the first hour, I couldn’t cry anymore. After the second hour, I couldn’t scream anymore.

He left me then, for a while, leaving me to drift into merciful, dreamless unconsciousness. Then he was back. He looks like a shark in bloodied water, frenzied, thirsty for the pain he greedily drinks out of my voice, my eyes, the way my body reacts without me having any say in it.

I lose track of time. The windowless room, tiled top to bottom, claws at my sense of orientation and slowly pulls the ground from under my feet. It feels like days since I last saw daylight.

This was not how the mission was supposed to go. It was supposed to be a small thing. Minor hostage situation, yes, high stakes, sure, but nothing the four of us couldn’t handle. Nothing HYDRA, just a drug cartel. We went in fully prepared. But then it went tits up, too many opponents, more than there were supposed to be.

My nose registers a sharp smell, something wet touches my nose. My conscience is being dragged back to earth, to this broken room, this broken body. My eyes flutter open.

“Don’t you fall asleep on me, pretty.” He is back. His shark grin broadens as he sees my eyes register him.

“Can’t blame the Soldier for wanting a piece of this.” His fingers slide along my face, curl around my chin to lift it up so I look him in the eyes.

“You know, I been thinkin’, why should we let him kill a pretty thing like you right away? It’s not like we get girls this easy ‘round here often. Gotta use the opportunity.”

My stomach roils and I can taste bile in the back of my throat. Please, no. Not this. Please.

His hands let go of my jaw and glide lower, over the sweat-and-blood-soaked underwear they graciously left me, and he pushes my legs apart. I am shaking, I realise, I can’t even stop myself. Cold terror washes over me at the sight of his hungry eyes. He reaches out to grab my hips.

And then everything happens all at once.

A metal arm wraps around his throat, lifting him up away from me and sending his hands scrambling to free himself.

“Touch her again and I will rip you limb from limb.”

The arm sends him flying against the wall, a sickeningly wet thud as his head impacts.

And then he’s there. I must be hallucinating. He is there, and he is alive, and he is himself. He is there. Bucky’s there.

“Fuck, Lizzie, please tell me you’re still in there. Please.” He sinks to his knees and cups my face gently, so gently. It can’t be real. I can only stare at him, drink him in, some kind of fever dream.

“Baby”, he whispers. His hands reach behind me to cut the rope they bound me with, and the lack of suspense sends me falling. But he catches me. I can feel his hands keep me from crashing to the floor and a tiny piece of me returns. He is real. He is here, Bucky is here, and they didn’t make him the Soldier again and he came. He came to save me.

“We need to hurry, this place will be crawling with agents in a few.” I recognise Steve’s voice and as my eyes blink into focus, I see him guarding the door.

They came for me. I’m still shaking, I realise, as I feel my teeth chatter against each other. Bucky’s eyes look heartbroken.

“Can you stand, Lizzie?”

I don’t trust my knees. I don’t trust my voice, either. Bucky takes that as a no.

“I will have to carry you, baby. Is that okay? We have to get you out of here.”

“Buck”, Steve’s voice is cold with warning.

I nod. I can do that, so I nod, the tiniest movement. But he understands.

Slowly, he stands back up, hands still holding me so I don’t double over, and he ever so carefully picks me up, cradling me against his chest. I feel his steady heartbeat through is tac suit. It feels like it slowly drums the life back into my body, pushing the numbness further and further away. God, my feet are cold. My whole body is cold. No wonder I’m shaking.

He carries me out of the room with Steve walking ahead. I curl up against him, closing my eyes against the bright neon lights above. I am safe now, right?

Right?

Shots echo in front of us. Bucky pulls me against him further.

“It’s okay, Lizzie. Everything will be okay. I got you now.”

“All clear”, Steve comments, catching his shield, and we continue. My head is thrumming. The feeling slowly returns to my body but with it returns the pain.

We round a corner and Bucky curses, ducking back around it and shielding me from the gunfire ahead. His metal arm pushes against my wounded shoulder and I cry out, cold sweat coating my forehead. Then it’s quiet again. Inside, my head feels like it’s about to burst.

We round another corner. Fast footfalls follow, then an impact. We tumble and he pulls me against his chest as we fall, but my head meets the ground with an angry thud. Black dots dance over my cloudy vision and Bucky snarls on top of me. The sounds of fighting ensue. I can only lay there, breathing shallow, feeling warm blood trickle down my head, wound newly torn open.

Then he is above me again, hands cradling my face.

“No, Lizzie, stay with me”, he whispers as my eyes flutter shut.

“You have to stay with me, please. Baby, please. Look at me.”

But the warm darkness is so welcoming, if I could just let myself fall …

“Lizzie, baby … please, I need you to stay with me.”

His hands pick me up so carefully, pulling me close against his chest again.

“I need you to stay awake, Lizzie. Please.”

I want to, so bad. But I can’t will my eyes to open. The darkness is all over me now. And I let go.

Dark, thick boots in front of me, barking voices, a hand grabbing me by the throat and pulling me up, up, up, until I look into a shark-toothed smile again.

“When I’m done with you, pretty, you’re gonna wish we’d let him kill you.”

Tears roll over my cheeks as he grabs my shoulders, knees giving out from under me as I crash onto the ground, the pain, god the pain, I can’t take it anymore, it’s too much, please let it end, please –

I startle awake, hands frantically pushing up until I’m sitting. Breathing heavy, fists curled up into something soft. The room is warm, welcoming even. There’s no sound apart from my breaths. I am alone. That’s good. Nobody can hurt me if I’m alone.

Then the pain registers and my upper body implodes. I gasp and my arms give out from under me, having me fall back down to the bed.

There’s a knock at the door. It startles me, and immediately I am on high alerts again.

But HYDRA wouldn’t knock.

“Yes?”, I try to say, and wince at how quietly and croaky it comes out.

Nevertheless, the door opens, revealing a tousled head of red hair. Natasha.

“Hey, Jones.” She’s quiet as if trying not to spook me. Like a wounded animal. “How are you?”

I look around the room. This must be Stark Tower. The peace is in such harsh contrast to the last … hours? Days? I don’t know. It doesn’t feel real. How am I supposed to know if this is happening? If it’s really, truly happening, or if I’m just hallucinating? But Bucky saved me. Right?

“Is this real?”, I rasp out. Natasha studies me carefully.

“Will you believe me if I say yes?”

I don’t know, will I? But would it be so bad if it was a dream? It’s so quiet.

“Where are the others?”, I ask. Where is Bucky?, I mean.

“Safe.” She understands. “Strewn all over Stark Tower, working to shut that base down they kept you at.” She slowly approaches me, studying my face.

I try and carefully sit up, much to the dismay of my ruined muscles.

“How did – why were – what happened?”, I try to form a coherent sentence.

“Well, for starters, going in alone anywhere in this kind of situation is a no-go, so fuck that.” She wears a half-smile, pulling a chair over so she can sit, far enough from the bed to give me my space.

“I’m not gonna bore you with the details here, but long story short, someone kidnapped our friend, and we kicked their asses.”

I attempt a smile. Not sure if it works, if it doesn’t, Natasha doesn’t let on.

My throat is dry. I can’t remember the last time I drank something, I realise, right before my lungs explode into a coughing fit. The gunshot wounds pulse red-hot pain through my body and I collapse onto the bed again.

“It’s okay, Liz, here. You’ll be okay.” She reaches over and grabs a glass of water from the nightstand, before handing it to me and carefully stabilising my upper body. The cool water runs through my parched mouth and somehow it calms my panicked nerves.

Right as she places the glass back on the nightstand, the door opens again, gently, and a small whimper leaves my throat as I see him. He’s safe. He’s here with me and he is safe.

His eyes widen. “Thank god you’re awake”, he breathes and rushes over, falling to his knees next to the bed.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

My hands reach out to him and he grabs my fingers, carefully pulling them close. Something inside me shatters.

“You’re safe, you’re okay, thank god you’re okay, I –“, my words fail me as I break into sobs, “I failed you, Bucky, it was all my fault, I –“

He looks up into my eyes. “Shh. Don’t say that. I’m just glad you’re here. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

It’s better, now. I don’t question my sanity anymore, my reality. When I wake up at night, drenched in cold sweat, asking FRIDAY who is on my floor and she tells me it’s Steve, or Natasha, or Bucky, I believe her. I know they can’t get to me anymore.

But I have gotten wary. Paranoid, even. Sometimes I ask FRIDAY to list the people in the tower over, and over, and over again. She does. An AI’s patience, I guess. I still wake up in the middle of the night, throat screamed hoarse, seeing monsters in the shadows. Or in the too-bright lights. Feel phantom fingers press into my shoulder and force my legs apart.

The gunshots have healed well, thanks to the skilled hands of the Stark Tower’s med bay. They still hurt, sometimes. It’ll be a wrong movement and a twinge of pain will shoot through my shoulder or my stomach. I’ll grimace and pull through.

There’s new rules, too. Nobody goes in alone. Anywhere. Ever.

And I’ve been avoiding Bucky. He spent the first days keeping vigilant watch, at my bedside or outside the door. His absence hurts somewhere deep inside of me, a deeper pain than the gunshots, something the pain killers can’t reach. But I can’t look him in the eyes. If I hadn’t gone into the basement alone, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have endangered him.

There is an empty feeling in my chest that I will start to notice whenever it gets too quiet, whenever my brain has time to roam. I miss him. I miss our late night balcony talks when we both can’t sleep. I miss the bickering at the start and end of successful missions. But I can’t go back on missions yet. And worse than missing him is the guilt.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, told me it wasn’t my fault. Steve got all emotional. Fury short and to the point. Natasha with a sharp look in her eye. She understood. To Sam I almost spilled my heart out, he has that effect on people. And of course, Bucky. Again, and again. In the first days, when he didn’t leave me for longer than two hours, and later on, too. The few times we do meet in a hallway, when my eyes look anywhere but into his. I know he says it to ease my mind. I know that he probably even believes it, but I can’t.

He told me, once, that he remembers every single person he killed while under HYDRA’s influence. Every target, every civilian that got into the crossfire. He told me of the torture they put him through. The cryo. And because of me, he almost fell back into their grasp. And I just can’t make myself not feel guilty about it.

Some days I wordlessly stand on Sam’s doorstep, running shoes in hand, hair in a ponytail. I think he understands the need to run from my thoughts, from my brain writhing and clawing at itself. I know he wants to talk about it. He knows I don’t. And he won’t push.

The gym is empty as I step into it quietly, pulling the door closed behind my back. My eyes roam around the room.

“FRIDAY, anyone in here with me?”

A short pause, then: “You are currently the only person on this floor, Agent Jones.”

I breathe out the air I held in anticipation. I go look for a place slightly out of sight from the door, that still allows me to quickly observe the entire room. Waiting for another few seconds, I ask FRIDAY again. Still alone. Just me.

Mechanically, I go through stretches. Lunges. Sit-ups. I don’t listen to music while working out anymore, too distracting. Too easy to be surprised. Instead, I concentrate on the rhythm of my heartbeat.

Still, my mind wanders. The last couple of missions have not been great. Mostly successful, yes, but too many casualties. Not to mention the last one. I was clumsy. Careless. Not quick enough, not strong enough. Not good enough.

I find a punching bag and let loose on it. Throwing punch after punch, blow after blow, until I’m panting and sweat is dripping off my forehead, plastering strands of hair onto my skin.

Next punch.

Crying hostages.

My fist flies into the bag again.

A young woman running in front of me, staggering in her panic, then a stray bullet hits her in the head. Her vacant eyes come to rest on me as she falls.

My knuckles curl and I punch the bad again.

Bucky’s voice over my earpiece, pleading, begging.

“Jones, please. Lizzie. Tell me you’re still there.”

Skin connecting with fabric.

A green-eyed agent, sneering down at me.

“You made this almost too easy for us. He’s gonna walk right into our trap, the fool.”

I grit my teeth and my fists meet the bag again.

And again.

Dark spots dancing before my eyes.

I continue. It’s all my fault. It wouldn’t have happened if I had been stronger.

One more punch.

If I had been faster.

I feel myself swaying.

I’m not good enough.

I’m not out for long. My first thought when I come to results in a frantic question to FRIDAY.

The AI answers patiently. “You are currently the only person on this floor, Agent Jones.”

Same answer as always. It’s soothing, a sense of normality. Of routine. I take a look at the clock. Nine p.m. Time to take a shower and go to bed, I suppose. Not that I expect to be able to sleep. Walking to the elevator, I contemplate having Natasha knock me out cold so that I can for once experience the benevolent veil of unconsciousness.

Halfway up to my floor, the elevator stops and the doors open. Immediately I step into a defensive stance before I realise it’s just Steve. Just sweet, kind Steve, whose heart I can see break in slow motion when he sees my reaction.

“Hey, Liz.”

I sigh and my shoulders drop.

“You okay?”

I’m not sure if I will ever be the same. I’m not sure if I will ever not flinch anymore when someone I didn’t spot moves too quickly. I’m not sure if I can ever look Bucky in the eyes again. I’m not sure –

“Yeah.” I attempt a smile, but it crumbles before it can become convincing.

The elevator picks up speed and Steve leans against the wall.

“I feel like things between you and Buck have been … strained, lately.”

Putting on my best façade, I throw an innocent look his way.

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, lifting his eyebrows at me, but indulging my little act.

“The two of you were different, before. Partners. Joking around, and I do understand it’s hard to fall back into it after what you went through, but Bucky …”

My eyes snap towards him.

“… I don’t know. It’s not my place to say anything.”

Whatever the hell that is supposed to mean.

“Everything is fine between Barnes and me, Steve. Same as before. I just don’t go on missions yet, so we don’t see each other as often. Right?”

He studies me for a moment, arms crossed.

“Right.” I can tell he doesn’t believe me.

When the elevator stops again, we’re on my floor, and I make my way out of the doors. Just before they slide closed again, Steve puts his foot between them.

“Liz, wait.”

I turn around, back against the wall.

“I just …” He struggles with what to say and what to keep to himself.

“Don’t let this ruin something good. Don’t let them break you, still.”

There is an ache in my chest. Deep-rooted, a few inches below my left shoulder.

“Yeah”, I manage. He studies me for a few more seconds, then he steps back and lets the elevator close between us. As soon as he is out of sight, my shoulders slump forward. Don’t let them break you, he says. They already did.

I wake up with a gasp. Silent terror behind my eyes. My brain making up scenarios.

Bucky came alone in this one. Unarmed. Prepared to offer himself up for me to be let go, but I know they won’t. They told me.

So they take him, and break him, and then they let him loose on me. I don’t have enough strength to run, to fight. Not like I could.

He is upon me quickly, metal arm around my throat, squeezing until there are tears escaping from my eyes.

But his eyes are his own. Tortured look behind the cold façade, eyes wide in terror. I can see he knows what he is doing. The panic of not being able to stop his body from complying.

I shake my head. Brush my hair off my sweaty face. The usual question to FRIDAY. The usual answer.

My gym clothes are still lying in a pile on the ground next to my bed and I slip into them. Need to get the images out of my head. Try to, at least.

The gym is empty. No surprise, if I am honest, it’s the middle of the night. The same time Bucky and I used to meet on a balcony, each fighting our own ghosts.

I find the punching bag again. It feels good to have an impact on something, an ounce of control over something that can’t hurt me. My muscles still burn from the last time I was down here. The bag gets pushed to the left, to the right, and I feel the skin on my knuckles heat up. Then crack open. The sharp pain crawling over my hands feels good, too. It is nothing, compared to the pain I put innocent people through. To the pain I almost put Bucky through.

The familiar dark, dancing spots creep into my vision. They beckon me with honeyed lips to give in, and I grit my teeth through the oncoming dizziness.

Behind me, a door falls shut, and I flinch and whirl around, staggering at the too-quick movement. Dark hair, slate eyes, underlined in violet. Bucky, my brain registers, before my vision blacks out for a second and I feel my knees connect with the mat below me.

He’s there in an instant, hands steadying my shoulders. The touch sends shivers down my arms. My vision clears again, and I attempt a carefree expression. The look on his face tells me he is not convinced.

“It’s fine. I’m fine”, I try to tell him with a reassuring smile.

He is on his knees before me, reluctantly letting my shoulders go. Eyes still studying my face, he huffs out a breath of air.

“So are you gonna tell me what you’re doing down here in the middle of the night?” He sits back onto his heels, still kneeling on the ground. I want to reach for him, touch him, pull him so close to me that nobody will ever get to him. Instead,, I just curl my hands into fists and cock an eyebrow at him.

“What about you?”

“Can’t sleep”, he explains, and I shrug.

“Well, there you have it.”

I can’t look directly into his eyes. He is too good at reading people, something born from trauma and survival instinct.

His hands are resting on his folded legs, metal fingers calm on top of his right hand. He’s wearing his “I woke up in the middle of the night and can’t sleep” outfit, sweatpants and a black shirt. Reminds me of the nights spent talking on the balcony. It’s like HYDRA took this from me, too, this small refuge after a day spent trying and failing to save people. The time he spent putting all the pieces of myself back together.

“So you go down here and punch a bag until you collapse?”

I shrug again, trying to keep the raging storm that is my mind inside for nobody else to see. His shoulders sag a little and he angles his head so that he can look me in the eyes.

“Can you at least look at me, Lizzie?”

Something compels me to do so. Maybe it’s the pet name. He is the only one who ever calls me Lizzie, everyone else says Liz, or J, or Agent Jones. Bucky usually only uses it when we’re alone. My mind races back to a few weeks ago.

“Jones, please. Lizzie. Tell me you’re still there.”

His broken voice replays in my head.

“Baby, please, I’m begging you –“

I only just now realise. He never called me baby before, either. I feel like I’m missing something, like the pieces are there, just out of my reach. It frustrates me.

“You’re not fine, are you?”, his smooth voice is the last straw, gently pushing into the walls I put around my heart in the last few weeks until they burst. There’s a lump the size of a tennis ball in my throat as my breath hitches and my shoulders sag and then hot tears spill out of my eyes and I can’t stop it from happening.

“Lizzie, no, hey, come here.” He holds his arms wide open and waits for me to give him permission to touch me. No pressure, just an offer. I feel my hands reach out and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer to his chest. My fists clench into the soft fabric of his shirt and I curl up tighter around my aching chest. He just holds me. Gentle hands stroking soothingly over my back, up, down, up again, down again. And fuck, he feels like home.

The sobs die down into quiet hitching breaths, dull stitches in my sides. Bucky remains where he is, not saying a word, just holding me.

“I feel like they broke me”, I finally gather the air to whisper into his chest. He presses his lips against my hairline, silently waiting for me to continue.

“I’m sorry, Bucky.”

He stirs, then.

“What for?”

“I let you down.”

It’s the first time I am saying this to anyone. I don’t know what it is that makes me tell him, of all people. But it feels right.

“No, Lizzie, you didn’t.”

I look up, blinking the tears away until I can see his eyes.

“I put you in danger. They almost got to you because of me.”

Bucky sighs. “They almost got to me through you. Not because. None of this was your fault, you know?”

I roll my eyes. “Everyone keeps telling me it wasn’t my fault and yet I let them take me, and I was the reason you came to them and for some reason, you got fucking lucky enough to not fall right back into their hands!”

His face is calm, collected, even, but I see the pain in his eyes.

“None of that happened because of you. It happened to you. What were you supposed to do, fight ten of them and get out unscathed? Nobody does that, Lizzie. It was a damn trap.”

I fist my hands into his shirt. “And I walked right fucking into it, didn’t I?”

“We all did. I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“You don’t get it, do you? It was my fault. I knew something was wrong and I stayed down there in that goddamn basement!”

“What did you do wrong?”

I pause. He looks directly at me, eyes locked onto mine. “Tell me what you did wrong.”

Something inside me cracks.

“I let them take me even though I knew they would use me to get to you.”

My fingers are still closed into his shirt. “I tried to fight them off, I even tried to –“ My voice breaks and I swallow against the lump in my throat.

“I knew they needed me alive, so I …”

His eyes are studying me carefully and I can see the slow realisation of what I am about to tell him dawn in the back of his mind.

“One of them was careless with his gun. I tried to put a bullet through my head”, I whisper, not daring to look at him.

He inhales sharply. “Lizzie, no …”

“I was too slow.”

“Baby …”, he whispers, in a voice I have never heard from him before. He sounds small. Broken.

His arms wrap around me carefully, as if scared I might shatter if he pushes too hard. His scent envelops me, pines and leather and metal, underlined by clean linen and sweat. It’s strangely soothing.

“Please promise me you won’t do that again. I can’t – I wouldn’t even know what to do without you.”

My hand flattens against his chest, heart pounding underneath.

“It wasn’t your fault”, I whisper against him.

“No, it was. They were there for me. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

I want to grab him by the shirt and shake him, remind him it’s not his fault, it’s them, that he never did anything wrong. Instead, I just shake my head.

“We weren’t careful enough, Lizzie. We should all have expected it to be a trap. Me, Steve, Sam, too.”

“Don’t say that”, I mutter into his shirt.

“Can I tell you something?”

I nod.

“Can you look at me while I do? Please?”

I sigh, but look up at him, skin itchy from the drying tears.

“You can’t keep putting the blame on yourself whenever something goes wrong.”

My shoulders slump.

“It doesn’t make anything better, you hear me? It doesn’t help anyone. It just makes you sink deeper and deeper into your guilt. And trust me, I know what that’s like.”

He pries my fingers from his shirt and gently folds them open. His thumbs smooth over my palms, circling around the crescent scars in the soft skin.

“There is enough pain in this world, Lizzie. And you’re putting yourself through enough already. Don’t blame yourself for what happens to me, too. It’s not your fault.”

When I fall into bed later, it’s the first time in weeks that I sleep through. Probably just the exhaustion.

I lie awake again, the next day. This time I never even fell asleep. There’s too many faces when I close my eyes. Too many screams. The voice of a green-eyed viper.

A noise outside my room spooks me into sitting up. Slow, sluggish steps on the corridor. They stop right in front of my door, then it’s silent.

“FRIDAY, who else is on this floor?”

The AI answers dutifully. “Currently, you and Sergeant Barnes are on this floor, Agent Jones.”

Bucky? It must be Bucky outside, then, anything else security would have picked up on.

A few seconds later, there is a quiet knock. I rub my eyes and fully sit up in the sheets before I answer. The door opens, just far enough for him to stick his head through.

“Heard that you’re awake. Can I come in?” His eyes look haunted.

“Sure.”

I pull the blanket closer to my body as he kneels down next to the bed.

“You can sit on the bed, you know?”

His chin resting on his left arm, he slightly cocks one eyebrow. “I did not.”

But he doesn’t move. He just looks at me and I at him, until his intense gaze gets too much to hold. My eyes roam over his face, the stubble on his chin, the curve of his jaw, the worried lines on his forehead.

“I’m so glad you’re safe”, he whispers, and my eyes return to his.

Something compels me to reach out and run my fingers through his hair, along his temple. His eyelids flutter closed. My palm comes to rest along his cheek, and he melts into the touch, my thumb caressing his cheekbone.

We just stay like this for a few minutes, for once not battling our inner demons. Savouring the peace we have in this moment, knowing the other is safe here.

It’s me who breaks the silence.

“Why’d you sit outside my door?”

He blinks a few times, adjusting to the soft lighting in my room, too bright after the darkness behind closed eyelids.

“Had a bad dream. Wanted to make sure nobody would hurt you”, he mumbles against my wrist. He lifts his right hand and I reach for it, fingers intertwining.

“I’m okay”, I whisper and he squeezes my hand.

“Sometimes I ask FRIDAY if you’re safe”, he admits and I smile. Seems we both use the AI as a support system. Although that’s what she’s there for, I guess.

He’s still kneeling before me and I shake my head.

“Come on, the ground’s a little cold, don’t you think?” I pat the blanket next to me.

“You sure?”, he mumbles and I nod. He sits up, still holding my hand. “I wouldn’t want to – “

I roll my eyes, “I offered, Bucky”, and shoot him a small smile. He shrugs and smiles back, standing up and crawling across the blanket to where I’m leaning against the headboard. The warmth he emits slowly engulfs me and it feels so safe, so much like home, that I move closer to him almost subconsciously.

“C’mere”, he mumbles and tentatively puts his right arm around my shoulders. He pulls me closer until my head lies on his chest. Intuitively, I inhale his scent, so undeniably Bucky, and sigh. Slowly, we both sink deeper and deeper into the bedding until we’re both lying down, and I curl one leg over his, foot threading between his shins. My arm comes to rest over his stomach and I feel his slow, steady breathing. It feels so right, my body against his. Like we’re made for each other.

I feel tempted to shake my head at myself for that thought. I’m tired. No idea how late it is but considering he had woken up, it has to be at least midnight. Probably past that.

“Can you promise me something?” His low voice rumbles in his ribcage, amplified by my ear pressed against his chest.

“Hm?”, I answer, half asleep.

“Next time you wanna punch a bag until your legs give out, tell me?”

I huff against his shirt. There’s a part of me that wants to scream I’m not worth his time, his concern, but the other part just misses him so fucking bad. And I’m just glad to have him back, so I nod.

“Good. Thank you. Now try and sleep, you need it.”

His steady breathing gently lulls me in.

The bed next to me is empty when I wake up. Immediately, I jump, heart pounding, but then I hear the shower running. He’s still here. I try to calm myself down again. The shower is turned off, and a few moments later Bucky walks through the door, hair still wet, wearing only his sweatpants. He pauses, towel in hand. A few stray droplets of water catch the light, glistening across his bare chest. I can’t help but follow the trail of muscles down, down, until my eyes get caught on the waistband of his sweatpants. I blink.

“’morning”, I rasp, clearing my throat.

A grin ghosts over his face, and I swear there is a smug glint in his eyes. “Good morning to you, too. Sleep well?”

A blush creeps up my cheeks and I avert my eyes, stretching to cover up my embarrassment. “Yup.” Had to get caught ogling my team partner, didn’t I.

“For once”, I add.

His smile turns softer then, and he sits down on the edge of the bed. “I’m glad.”

We just sit there for a while, stealing glances at each other’s faces. After what feels like an eternity, he clears his throat. “Breakfast?”

My fists fly into the punching bag. This time, it’s not being pushed around. Bucky is standing behind it, holding it firmly in his grasp, watching me closely and giving advice when he sees fit. It’s not the first session we share. Over the last few days, we have developed some sort of a routine, one of us showing up at the other’s room wordlessly, silent terrors behind tired eyes.

My time in the gym has become less self-destructive since, with him there to keep a close watch so I don’t push myself until I black out. Instead, he eases me off my adrenaline high, pulls me back out of my spiralling brain into reality. The time spent with him slowly fills the hole left by our nightly meetings on the balcony. It helps me tire myself out, I get to sleep through most of the times I go to bed afterwards.

“I just remembered something", I start one time we take the elevator back up to our respective floors.

He’s leaning against the wall across from me, elbows propped up on the railing. Sweat still glistening on his forehead, his hair a tousled mess, despite its shortness.

His eyes flicker over to mine. “Hm?”

I clear my throat. “When I was … held hostage by HYDRA, their commander said something, I never quite understood why.”

It feels … unsettling, to talk about that day. Bucky just looks at me patiently, without pressure.

“He said it was amazing what love could do to people.”

Bucky cocks an eyebrow.

“He was talking about you. Us. He said that it was easier to get to you because they had me.”

There is something in his eyes that I can’t quite put my finger on. He looks taken aback, almost. He flexes his right hand, still looking right at me.

“And I told him he was wrong. They thought they had you all figured out, you know? Thought they could convince you to come alone just because they had me, of all people. I mean, I guess Steve would’ve been harder to catch, but you know …”

He still hasn’t said a word. I start to squirm under his gaze, slate eyes intently watching me, a muscle in his jaw twitching. It dawns on me, then, that bringing up HYDRA playing mind games is probably not the best thing. Sure, he knows, but did I have to remind him of that? I want to punch myself at the pained expression on his face.

“I’m sorry I brought it up”, I murmur, not daring to meet his eyes. He slowly exhales, and part of the tension seems to leave him.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He attempts a smile. It fails so miserably it almost hurts.

The elevator doors open with a quiet ring. As if being startled awake, Bucky suddenly straightens up and walks through the door, muttering a “Goodnight” under his breath.

I look after him confused, doors sliding closed. It feels like I lost some small part of him. The elevator picks up speed again and I make for the door as it opens on my floor.

That night, my dreams are haunted by the pained expression on Bucky’s face, mixed with what my brain pieced together from the few things he told me about his time with HYDRA. I wake up shaking and sit up, sweat plastering my hair to my forehead.

“FRIDAY, can you check in with Sergeant Barnes? If he’s safe?”

“Sergeant Barnes shows no sign of physical distress, Agent Jones.”

Seconds later, there is a knock. I get out of bed and walk over, opening the door. Bucky looks at me with tortured eyes that widen with worry as he takes me in. “You okay?”, he asks softly, lifting a hand to brush my hair out of my face. I nod and take a step back, allowing him into the room. He closes the door behind him and I wrap my arms around my torso, still feeling guilty for the conversation we had earlier.

He’s standing in the middle of the room, as if he doesn’t know where to sit – or if to sit at all. I sit down on the bed and study him for a while. We both start talking at the same time.

“I’m sorry that – “

“I shouldn’t have – “

We stop, sheepish smiles ghosting over both our faces. Something flutters in my chest. It’s quiet then, for a while, until he opens his mouth again.

“I’m sorry that I just left like that. Earlier.”

I shake my head. “No, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

He runs a hand through his hair and takes a step towards me, gesturing over at the bed. “May I?”

I nod, making room for him on the blanket next to me and he sits down, his weight shifting the mattress. He looks like he’s debating something in his mind, torn between one thing and another. I gently touch his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He stills. Then he sighs. It breaks my heart seeing him this way, tense shoulders, eyes lined violet. He draws a slow and deep breath until he looks over at me. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

I blink, startled. He takes my surprise as hesitation and makes to get up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you – ” Before he can get up entirely, I wrap my hand around his wrist. He pauses, eyes flying to my hand and then to my eyes.

“Bucky.” He slowly breathes out. “Of course you can stay.”

I let go of his wrist and crawl up to the headboard, leaning back against it.

“C’mere.”

He follows, but instead of sitting next to me, he lies down, curling up with his head on the pillow. I extend my left leg and he inches closer, left hand coming to rest on my thigh. My left hand finds its way to his shoulder, tracing soothing circles over it and slowly up his neck until my fingertips are tousling his dark hair. I can’t help but muse over its softness. He sighs against my leg and I can almost see the tension leaving him, shoulders slowly slumping.

“Thank you”, he mumbles, barely audible.

“Any time, Bucky.”

I wake up later, barely, to his hands stroking my shoulders.

“Lizzie, hey.”

I squint and try to open my eyes further.

“Everything is fine, I just … your back is gonna hurt if you stay like that the whole night.”

I’m still leaning against the headboard.

“Mkay”, I mumble, eyes fluttering closed again. I think I hear him chuckle, then he gently picks me up and places me down on the mattress so that I’m in a proper sleeping position. My eyes blink open again when he comes to rest next to me, face inches from mine. “Thank you”, I whisper, and without thinking about it, I place a kiss on his cheek. The surprised look on his face barely registers with me, before I sink back into unconsciousness.

When I wake up again, it’s morning. Bucky has assumed the position I was in last night, leaning against the headboard, a hand softly placed on my shoulder. I look up at him and smile, eyes not yet fully open. He smiles back, the softest look in his eyes.

“Morning, Lizzie.”

I yawn and rub my eyes, rolling onto my back.

“You know, Bucky, I always seem to sleep better when you’re next to me.” My cheeks heat up as soon as the last words leave my mouth and I scramble to say something less embarrassing, I shouldn’t be allowed to talk until I’ve been awake for at least ten minutes, for fucks sake, but then he smiles.

“I do, too.”

The soft morning light makes him look ethereal, his eyes almost silver in the direct sun. He squints down at me, eyes roaming over my face, before settling somewhere below my eye line.

“You’re beautiful”, he says softly and I pause, before I sit up, his eyes following every movement. I can’t help but stare at him, painted in golden light, and yet he tells me I’m beautiful.

I move towards him until my knees almost touch his legs. His right hand slowly reaches out, carefully, as if to not startle me, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. He cups my cheek, thumb smoothing over my cheekbone and my eyes flutter closed. He moves closer, bedsheets rustling beneath his knees, and then I feel soft lips on mine. The ghost of a kiss pressing against me. My eyes fly open and immediately, he pulls back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to – I just – I can’t –“

His hand leaves my cheek and it feels strangely cold. Before he can pull back further, I grab his hand. Gathering all the courage I have, I look him in the eyes.

“Kiss me, Bucky.”

He draws a shaky breath and then he is there, lips pressed against mine. I close my eyes, curling my arms around his neck, and he grabs my hips, pulling me closer, closer, onto his lap. His hands slide over my thighs to the small of my back, and then upwards, until they flatten against my shoulder blades, holding me like he needs me to live. Maybe he does. Maybe I need him, too, I wonder, as my hands find their way into his hair, pulling gently.

He pulls me closer, rocking me against his abdomen and a small, breathless sound escapes my throat. Bucky moans in response, teeth nipping at my lower lip. His tongue follows and I melt into him, hands pulling him closer towards me. Almost on instinct, I roll my hips against him again. His fingers curl into my shirt as he groans, sending a rush of blood down into my core.

We pull apart then, panting, dizzy from the lack of oxygen. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. I shudder when his gaze meets mine. We’re still so close to each other, noses almost touching, breaths mingling between us.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve been wanting to do this”, he whispers against my lips, and goosebumps trickle down my spine.

“You have?”

He nods, tongue wetting his lips. His right hand slides up around my neck, thumb smoothing over the sensitive spot right below my ear, following the curve of my jaw. I let my head fall to the side, baring my neck, eyes closing. He places a barely-there kiss against the skin, then another, tracing a line down to my collar bone.

“I’m a simple man, Lizzie. Give me a beautiful woman in a tac suit, and I’m done for.”

I chuckle and open my eyes, facing him as he lifts his head to look at me. “Really that easy, hm?”

He nods earnestly, corners of the mouth twitching up. “If she can also handle a gun? Man …” He sighs. “I suppose I’ve been in the military for too long.”

I shrug. “Well, me too, then.”

One eyebrow shoots up, then he grins, “How long you been here, Lizzie?”

I roll my eyes at him. “You know what I mean, Bucky.”

He acts as if contemplating whether or not he needs me to elaborate, then he gets a smug look on his face. “Yeah, I’ve seen how you look at me sometimes.”

I groan, hiding my face in his shoulder. His low chuckle turns into a hum when my lips meet his throat and I work my way up the same way he just did. My hands on both sides of his face. His fingers curl around my wrists and I look into his eyes.

“It’s not like I do much to hide … anything, really.”

“Anything?” He kisses the palms of my hands, holding them against his face.

“You just look good in black, Buck. Don’t tell me you don’t know it.”

He cracks a crooked grin, looking up at me through his lashes and I draw a shaky breath.

“No, I know. I’m old enough to see when a woman looks at me and likes what she sees.”

I roll my eyes at him and he chuckles.

“I’m kidding, Lizzie.”

He pulls me towards him and gently places his lips on mine. I sigh and can’t help but smile into the kiss, fingers playing with his hair. His tongue caresses my lips and I open my mouth to let him in. His hands drop to grab my hips, rocking me against him again and heat shoots through my body, lips suddenly become sloppy and desperate, my hands trying to get a hold of as much of him as possible.

He tips us to the side, keeping me close with his right arm and holding himself up with his left. Then he carefully places me onto the bed, lips never leaving mine. His fingers toy with the hem of my shirt, leaving butterfly touches on the skin below it. His mouth wanders, pressing kisses to the corners of my mouth, the underside of my jaw, underneath my ear, down the curve of my neck.

I bite my lip and my hands curl into his hair, following his movements slowly down my upper body. All the while his hands slowly push up my shirt, exposing the tender skin of my stomach. His fingertips ghost along the underside of my breasts. My breath hitches.

“That okay?”, he mutters into my ear, lips fluttering against my ear. I have to bite back a moan and can only nod. “Talk to me”, he adds.

“Fucking hell, Buck, just take my shirt off.”

He chuckles against my ear and pulls the fabric up, up, over my head. I open my eyes and catch his, roaming over the stretch of skin now exposed to him. He dips his head low to place a kiss on my chest, and then his hands are on my sides, tracing upwards. His thumb rubs over my nipple, cold metal in stark contrast to the fire inside me that he keeps feeding with each touch.

My hands pull on his hair and he moves up to me, lips pressing down and fingers caressing the soft skin. The clash of his cold hands on my chest and his warm lips against mine send a rush of blood into my lower body and I sigh into his mouth, before he leaves again. I complain until his mouth is where his fingers were just seconds before, closing around my hardened nipple, tongue rolling against it. A twinge of pleasure lets the muscles in my stomach contract and I gasp, my back arching up into him, reacting on reflex only.

His hand pushes me back against the bed, his mouth still kissing and nipping on reddened skin. Then he looks up at me and parts my legs with a knee, pushing upwards, gaze fixed on my face. He pushes further and my mouth falls open, making an effort to keep eye contact with him while he moves against me, coaxing a slow moan from deep within me. Still, I am looking directly at him. His lips part. I prop myself up on my elbows and only when my mouth meets his, I close my eyes.

“You’re gonna drive me insane, one day”, he mumbles between kisses and I smile lazily, lowering myself back down.

“Am I, now?”

I like the feeling of having him wrapped around my little finger and he knows it, sees it in the glint in my eyes and the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Hands placed on both sides of my body, he moves his knee against me again and I gasp.

“You know exactly what you’re doing, Lizzie.”

Then he dips down, kissing a trail down my stomach until he hits the hem of my sweatpants. He sits back onto his heels and hooks his finger into the waistband, cocking one eyebrow. I nod again, and he pulls them down, off my feet, leaving them to fall somewhere next to the bed. His hands slide up my legs until they meet the line of my panties and my breath hitches when his rough fingers touch the soft skin of my thighs. His lips follow his hands and now I am panting, head falling back when he follows the outline of the fabric against my skin. His hands placed on my thighs, his mouth placing lazy kisses against my stomach, and suddenly his thumbs stroke down my core, my back arching off the bedsheets.

He takes his hands off me, then, and I groan, propping myself up onto my elbows again.

“Quit teasing.”

He hooks his fingers into the band of my panties and cocks an eyebrow, waiting for my reaction.

“Talk to me, Lizzie. What do you want?”

I draw in a shaky breath, looking down at him with heavy eyelids. “Take them off.”

He obeys, pulling the fabric off along my legs and discarding it as well. He looks at me again and I groan, head falling back. He just waits until I’m squirming under him, and even then he doesn’t touch me. I lift my head again and he brings his head down to my thighs, peppering them with small kisses, just enough to make me breathe heavily but not where I actually want him.

“Bucky …”, I whine, and he hums against my skin.

“What do you want, Lizzie?”

“For you to use that snarky tongue of yours.” I get a chuckle from him for that.

“You’re bossy”, he mutters between kisses and I huff, hands closing into the blanket below me. “I like when you’re bossy.”

Before I can complain, he dips his tongue between my legs and licks upwards in one long stroke. I moan loudly before I can bite my tongue, hands flying into his hair. His tongue laps over my clit in a steady rhythm and all the air leaves my lungs, hands scrambling to hold onto something, anything, and clenching into the sheets.

“Bucky …”, I moan his name and he hums against me in response, sending goosebumps down my legs.

“Happy now?”, he teases, before going back to kissing and licking and I chuckle breathlessly.

“Almost.”

This time I don’t have to explain. He understands anyways and slowly slides a finger into me. I almost see stars for a second. Then he curls his finger upwards and I do see stars, the knot inside me coiling tighter and tighter with every lap of his tongue. I press myself against him, relishing in the white-hot pleasure shooting through my body. My back arches off the bed, thighs pressing against his cheeks. His left hand holds me in place and he adds a second finger, following the rhythm set by his tongue. I whisper his name over, and over, and over, like a prayer, and he responds with a hum, tingling against my overly sensitive skin.

He slightly changes the angle of his fingers and I gasp, the rising feeling inside me almost at its peak.

“Bucky, wait –“, I pant, and he stops immediately, lifting his head, concerned eyes meeting mine.

“If you go on like this I can’t promise to keep it together much longer.”

He licks his lips, the sight of him between my legs alone almost enough to send me spiralling. “I don’t mind.” He dips down again and I moan loudly and pull at his hair to get him to look at me again. He looks up at me, continuing to move his fingers and I swear I’m going crazy.

“But I do”, I pant, and he stops. I tug at his hair again and he pulls his fingers out of me, before crawling up to meet me. I sigh into the kiss, butterflies in my stomach at the taste of his tongue. I pull back just enough.

“I do, because I want you, Bucky.” He blinks, inhaling sharply.

“You sure?”

I kiss him in return, not bothering with a vocal answer. He takes it as a yes, kiss deepening as my fingers fumble along the hemline of his black shirt. He leans back, takes it off, and comes back to me again.

“You got a condom?”

I nod and roll over to reach for the nightstand while Bucky takes off his pants, before leaning down and pressing soft feathery kisses along my spine. I allow myself to savour the feeling of his lips against my skin, then I turn back around. He rips the condom open with his teeth. I sit up when he lies down, his hand reaching out.

Our fingers interlace with each other, he tugs and I follow until I feel him hard against my core. I suck in a breath and he places his hands on my hips, pulling me towards him. I lean forward and reach for him, and then he is there, slowly pushing into me. His fingertips press into my skin as I slowly lower myself down. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are watching me intently. I can’t seem to look away, he’s holding me in his gaze and we both moan at the same time.

Then I place my hands on his chest and roll against him, my hair falling into my face. His hands leave my hips and reach for my breasts, pinching and thumbing over my nipples, sending sweet jolts of pleasure down to where our bodies meet. My breath comes heavy, and when he starts moving with me, my mouth falls open. He grabs my hips again and holds me in place, before he suddenly flips us so that I’m below him. My hands fly up to the headboard, trying to find something to hold on to and he grabs them, pinning them above my head. My back arches of the bed and the angle changes slightly, I can almost feel it, he almost hits the spot, just –

His metal hand reaches for my knee and pulls my leg up against his hips, pushing my thigh back against me. It’s the exact change I needed. He hits the spot again, and again, and my head falls back, a string of nonsensical words leaving my mouth. He curses underneath his breath.

“Look at me, baby, please”, he whispers and I can’t help but obey him.

He thrusts into me and my hips roll against him, meeting him halfway.

“Fuck, Bucky, I –“

He groans in response, brows furrowed, sweat on his forehead. Every muscle in my body is tense in anticipation, I feel myself tighten around him. He moves his hand from my thigh to where we’re connected, thumb smoothing over my clit, jaw set as he adjusts the angle of his hips again. He hits the spot. Once. Twice. My hands strain against his grasp and my back arches and then I feel myself explode. My breath catches in my throat and my eyes snap closed.

“Dammit, Lizzie …”, he growls as I contract around him and then he follows me down, hand gripping my waist. His breath leaves him shuddering and his hips buck. One last swipe of his thumb that has me trembling underneath him, before he removes his hand and lets go of my wrists. My hands snake down and I grab both sides of his face. He lowers himself onto his elbows, one on each side of my head, and eases into a long, satisfied kiss. His hands curl into my hair that’s sprawled around my head on the pillow and I melt against him. Then he pulls back. Opens his mouth.

“I love you.”

I pause. Did he really – my eyes open, slowly, to not break the moment. Suddenly I’m staring directly into his eyes, noses mere inches apart. I open my mouth. Close it. He sighs, pulling away to better look at me.

“I’m sorry if that was a bit … forward. But I’m tired of hiding it. And I wanted you to know that this”, he nods his head down at our entwined bodies, “means something to me.”

He loves me. All the small moments I have been repressing for the last weeks come crashing over me like a tidal wave. “I am not. Leaving you, Jones.” Suddenly I understand why he reacted the way he did when I told him about HYDRA’s comment. “It’s amazing what love can do to people.” And I really didn’t see it. Hell, even HYDRA knew. His reaction when I told him I tried to end it. “I can’t – I wouldn’t even know what to do without you.” The times he spent in the gym with me, at night. On the balcony before that. The times he sat outside my room, just keeping watch. “Had a bad dream. Wanted to make sure nobody would hurt you.”

“Can you … say something?”

I blink. Maybe I should react. That would be appropriate, I guess.

“That’s –“, my voice is rough and I clear my throat, “unexpected.” Bullshit, fucking hell, Jones.

He pulls away, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have … goddammit I had to ruin it, didn’t I?” No, you didn’t ruin anything, I just don’t know –

“I’m sorry, Lizzie, I –“

I sit up and grab his arm, pull his hand away from his face. I take his other hand, too.

“I was wondering when you had started calling me ‘baby'.”

He huffs out a breath of air and closes his fingers around my hands.

“It just … slips. I don’t even do it on purpose, I just …”, he shrugs, a pained expression on his face, and I realise what this must be like for him. He sleeps with the woman he loves, tells her, and she freezes. I take a deep breath. Fucking hell, I’m an idiot.

“I love you, too, Bucky.”

The moment I say it, I realise its truth. Its utter, crystal clear truth. His eyes go wide.

“I’m just bad with my emotions. I’m sorry”, I try to salvage some of it.

He lifts a hand up to my cheek, staring at me in utter disbelief. His thumb smoothes over my cheekbone and I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. Of course I fucking love him. I would’ve died for him. Didn’t even hesitate.

The softest of kisses brings me back down to earth. To where I am sitting naked on the bed with the man I love. I melt into it, arms curling around his neck, pulling him towards me.

“Don’t apologise for things like that”, he mumbles against my lips and touches his forehead against mine.

Then he squeezes my hand, “Be right back”, and with a peck on the lips, he gets up in the direction of the bathroom. I sigh and let myself fall back onto the sheets. There is a slight, sweet burn between my legs, a gentle reminder. I yawn, stretching in the sun like a cat that just woke up. When I open my eyes again, there’s a shadow in front of me. I blink up at him as he’s just standing there, watching, a soft smile on his face.

The sun is behind him now, lighting up bits of his hair like a halo. Sunshine suits his eyes, I realise.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking beautiful, Bucky?”, I mutter and he comes crawling over to me. There’s a slight heat to my cheeks but hell, I’m naked in front of him, and after what just happened it’s not like I can’t call him beautiful. He doesn’t seem to mind, at least.

“You’re cute, Lizzie", he responds, kissing my nose. I smile at that and pull him back down to me. We roll over onto our sides and he grabs the blanket, tucking me in and planting a kiss on my forehead. And finally, I feel like I can maybe, someday, be whole again.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #one shot #smut fic #winter soldier

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anakin-danvers · 4 years

Text

to wish upon a star

Rex x gender neutral!reader

Request: “For a fic, from prompt list #2, "Look! A shooting star! Make a wish," with any character you want to write from the Star Wars prequel trilogy? (Not entirely sure who you write for, do I'll leave it up to you.)” as requested by @valkyriesandbrokenhalos

Description: While on a mission in your home world, you take the time to enjoy the night sky. To your surprise, a certain Clone Captain decides to join you.

Word count: ~2.2 k

Warnings: Fluff. This is pure and utter all fluff. Some drinking! Tinyyyyy bit of angst if you squint to see it. Also, first time writing for our boy Rex so please be kind!

A/N: I decided to do Rex for this fic after a suggestion from @acnini (also special shoutout to her for beta reading 💖)! I hope you all like it, especially you Aro! Thank you for participating in my celebration! 🥳💗

P.S. I have another Rex request I am working on which will most likely be a part 2 for this!!

tags: @acnini , @catsnkooks , @kaminobiwan

—

Sitting in a dinner hall in a table full of tipsy clones was not what you imagined you’d be doing when General Skywalker told you to pack your bag for the mission this morning. But here you are, in your home planet, eating delicacies you’d only dreamt of as a child.

Music bounces off the walls, not loud enough to hurt your ears, but definitely loud enough to make it hard to think. You look around, feeling a bit overwhelmed with the setting you are in. Usually, you wouldn’t be attending these sorts of things; your position as an engineer for the 501st allowed you to stand on the sidelines, focus on your job and nothing more. But this is a special mission. The meeting General Skywalker has is with none other than the head of foreign operations of your home world Elzu.

The small planet could have been as beautiful as Naboo, were it not for the exploitation of natural resources by the government. By the time Elzu joined the Republic, it was drastically divided. Those who had been part of the group exploiting the resources are still the ones in power now. The rest are left to fend for themselves, many immigrating to other planets in search of a better livelihood. Your parents were part of the latter group, taking you and your siblings to Coruscant when you were about 9 years old. Thanks to their sacrifice and hard work, you now have the job you have.

So when General Skywalker asked if you’d be willing to join him and the 501st to the meeting as a point person for all things Elzu, you were hesitant. Elzu held many bittersweet memories, and you’d only been back a handful of times since your family had left all those years ago. General Skywalker had sensed your hesitation, and asked if instead you could help by giving him a list of the customs of the planet. However, as you were writing the list, you thought back to all the ways Skywalker and the 501st had helped you get to where you are, and knew that the least you could do was help with the trip in person. Though now that you’re here, you’re starting to wish you’d just stuck to the list.

The boisterous laugh of Fives rips you from your thoughts. You blink a few times in an attempt to refocus on the present. You turn to look at Fives, who’s sitting at your table, in an attempt to see what he’s laughing at. When your eyes travel around the other clones in your table and settle on a rather flustered looking Dogma, you have an idea of what Five’s source of entertainment currently is.

In spite of your otherwise uncomfortable feelings, you can’t help but smile. It was rare that the clones of the 501st were so at ease while on a mission. Seeing them all gathered in the main dinner hall enjoying good food made you happy, especially knowing this type of mission would be one of a kind.

The eating and socializing continues, and though you converse with the clones around you, you mostly stay quiet. After deciding you’d had enough to eat, you excuse yourself and walk out of the dinner hall.

You hate to admit it, but the palace you’re currently in is gorgeous. The large and intricate structure was built from different Elzian resources, Elzian marble being the most predominant. As you mindlessly walk down the hallway, you stay close to the wall, the smooth walls leaving a cool sensation on your fingertips. You keep walking around, not really knowing where you intend on going. That is, until you spot a sliver of the night sky.

Your feet make their way to the landing deck on its own. It isn’t until you feel the cool night breeze on your skin that you realize just how hot it is inside. Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you step out onto the seemingly unused landing deck. You almost gasp at the sight; the height of the deck makes you feel as if you’re in the sky.

If there was one thing you’d always miss most about Elzu, it’s the sky. It’s easy to forget that there’s even a sky in Coruscant due to the endless bustle of traffic. But that isn’t the case here. No, here, the sky is clear, the stars densely decorating it to look like the most royal of sparkling gowns.

You take a seat directly on the landing deck, sprawling your legs out in front of you and placing your hands on the durasteel ground. Maker, you can almost reach out and touch the stars, pick them like the fruit of a tree, with how close they seem.

“Beautiful night.”

If you weren’t sitting, you would have jumped at the sudden voice behind you. However, as the initial shock leaves you, you recognize the voice, a deep honey voice you never get tired of hearing.

Footsteps approach you, and you can feel them under your palms. They stop as two white and blue armored legs appear next to you. Your eyes follow the legs up to their owner’s face, the brown skin and blonde hair of your favorite person making the feeling of a thousand pairs of wings erupt in your stomach.

“Rex.”

“How are you, nau?”

At the sound of his tone, you know he can tell you’re not feeling your best. You also know there’s no point in trying to convince him otherwise.

“I’m doing okay, given the circumstances,” you say.

Lightly dropping his helmet to his side, he takes a seat next to you. You look at him as he mimics the way you’re sitting, legs spread out in front of him, hands on either side of him. And honestly, you can’t help but admire just how beautiful he looks.

Your eyes move from where you see his legs brushing your own, landing instead on his face. You find him looking at you, concern etched onto his features.

“You know how I feel about this place, Rex. It doesn’t hold the best memories,” you finally say.

“I know,” he simply says.

He knows. Of course he knows. He knows because he’s been by your side when you’ve had a few too many drinks at 79’s and spilled all about your childhood hardships. He knows because he’s been by your side when you try to discreetly get information on how the less fortunate of Elzu are holding up with the war. He knows because he’s always been there, with you.

Relief washes over you when you realize you don’t have to explain all the feelings caused by being on Elzu. Bringing up your legs to hug them to your chest, you look up at the sky again, the smile from earlier returning.

“Have you ever heard of shooting stars?”

“Shooting stars?” At his question, you nod. “I haven’t, nau.”

“Well you’re in for a treat tonight.”

His brow raises, and a faint smile paints his face. “Is that right?”

You nod again. “Elzu is known for its shooting stars, sometimes called flying stars. The people of Elzu believe they’re the souls of beings who have passed all around the galaxy as they make their way to their final resting spot. Legend has it they grant wishes.”

Rex laughs lightly, not in a mocking way, but rather in a surprised way. For someone who’s usually surrounded by so many facts, Rex doesn’t expect you to be so invested in old tales.

“Hey, I’m being serious!” you say, a laugh coming out of you as well. “I used to make a wish every night when I was a kid.”

Rex won’t ask what you wished, you know that. He doesn’t want to impose, pour salt on the wound that is already being constantly poked at while being here in Elzu. But either way, you continue, part of you needing to tell him what you wished for all those years ago.

“I’d initially wish for childish things; a new toy or the chance to taste one of those many pastries they have inside. But then the guilt would creep in, and instead I’d wish for the star to bring my family and I stability. Not riches, those weren’t necessary, just stability. Food on the table, a roof over our heads, shoes on our feet. And the next night I’d do the same again: wish for something childish then scrap it for a worthwhile wish.”

As you finish, you don’t know what you expect Rex to say. You don’t know if you even expect him to say anything. And initially he doesn’t, he sits there next to you in silence looking up at the same sky you’d stare at endlessly as a child.

“Ca’tra.”

You turn to look at him, the word foreign to your ears. For the most part, you knew the phrases of his native Mando’a he’d speak around you. Nau, for example, was what he called you, a nickname of sorts. He’s told you it means light, a nod to the way you two initially met during a blackout on a ship you’d been working on, a flashlight in hand as you bumped in face first to his chest. But ca’tra you didn’t know, so you waited for him to continue.

“It means ‘night sky’,” he explains, and you make a mental note to add that to the list of Mando’a words you have written on your data pad. “I often gazed up at the night sky back in Kamino growing up. It brought me calm whenever I’d feel...uneasy.”

“Ca’tra.” You test the word in your mouth, hoping you pronounced it correctly. At his smile and nod, your heart blooms with pride.

“And though we have no word for shooting star, we do have ka’ra, which means stars.”

Another word to add to the list, you think.

Your eyes go back to the sky, and almost as if on queue, you see the flash of light that filled you with hope as a child.

“Look! A shooting star! Make a wish,” you say, closing your eyes to mentally make your own. You wish for progress in the war with as little casualties as possible, you wish for his safety. A whisper of a thought adds another part to the wish: I wish for Rex to stay by my side.

You open your eyes slowly, glancing over at Rex to see if he’s done with his wish. Only, you don’t find him with his eyes closed as you’d had them. He’s not even looking up at the sky. No, he’s looking at you.

For a split second, you forget how to breathe at the sight of his beautiful eyes on you. Taking a small breath, you speak.

“Did you make a wish?” You don’t intend for your voice to be a whisper, but with the way he’s looking at you, you don’t manage anything else.

Rex nods. “Yes, I did.”

You want to ask what it is, but know that the way wishes come true is by keeping them to yourself.

“Well,” you say, your hand seemingly moving on its own will as it lands on top of his. “I hope your wish comes true.”

“I hope so too,” he responds.

You turn back to look at the sky, your hand still on Rex’s. And maybe it’s the glass of Elzian wine you drank, or the fact that you’re looking up at the night sky you spent your whole childhood wishing under, or even the drunken state Rex causes you to be in regardless of the amount of alcohol in your system, but you think you know what Rex wished for. Well, you hope you know what he wished for.

As if to put your mind at ease and to confirm your thoughts all at once, Rex moves his hand so that he’s now holding yours. The cool feeling of the durasteel you both are sitting on makes for a sharp contrast to just how warm his hand feels on your own. Before you have time to process his actions, he hits you with another jolt of electricity when he softly squeezes your hand.

You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling, because you’re smiling too. You’re smiling the smile that only appears whenever Rex is with you, by your side, safe.

And as the two of you sit under the night sky, you don’t feel the guilt you’d expected to feel at the last addition to your wish. It’s a bit selfish, you admit, wishing for something exclusively for you. But you don’t, can’t feel guilt when all you feel is warm, kind love with Rex by your side.

When the next shooting star paints the sky, you once again wish for Rex to stay by your side, nothing more, nothing less.

#all I want is for rex to hold my hand while we look up at the night skyyyyy #hope you all enjoy!#chasity reaches 100!🥳#captain rex x reader #captain rex imagine #captain rex x you #captain rex x y/n #captain rex fanfic #captain rex fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #captain rex reader insert #userkarina #usernobie #chasity's work #my work #gender neutral reader #anakin-danvers work

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niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian · 4 years

Text

Oooh boy, i remember announcing this prompt awhile ago and just had everyone immediately worried about it, only to not even write it right away. Dang that was a while ago. It's almost been a month jesus O-O.

I decided to post this without the ask attached so the whole story won’t be spoiled. But oh man did I have to rewrite this so many times, the concept was really interesting to the point it ended up being something completely different to the anonymous ask. But that’s writing for you. It’s also probably the longest fic I’ve written so far.

It kinda didn't feel like it had the "angsty" effect I wanted it to have when writing this, it's one of the reasons why it took so long to get this finished. I don't know, what do you guys think?

This is pretty much this is a What-if? fic that revolves around Robotnik when he manages to come back to earth.

Warnings: there's some mild swearing in this fic.

I'm a Survivor.

“My sanity still.....remains completely absol-....Oh would you just shut up over there!” Ivo laid on the top of a mushroom as held up his hand and clutched his fingers with the other.

“Oh Terry, could you please shut that brat up?” He turned his head over to a medium sized mushroom, next to it a smaller mushroom.

He raised his arms up in annoyance. “I don’t care that brat has a ear infection! He’s been crying for almost two hours now and it’s getting on my nerves!”

He let his arms drop at his side as he closed his eyes, the heat of the sun burning forehead and causing sweat to drip down his face.

For the past couple of weeks, the mad scientist had been wandering around aimlessly through the fungal jungle in search of resources for supplies and hopefully for a way back home.

He lifted his wrist to look at his daily log. “It’s now been 86 god forsaken days since that blue rat sent me to me to this place of the mushiest of rooms.” He moved on his side, propping his head on his hand. “But luckily, you’re the only one that’s keeping me sane agent Stone.”

Turning his head, he smiled fondly at the oddly craved stone lying right beside his head. “You know what it’s like here, no humans, no animals, no garbage trucks that purposely wake you up early in the morning to ‘get the garbage cans’ when they can easily do that in the morning!”

He sighed as he sat up, picked up the stone and held it out in front of him. “One day We’ll come back to that beautiful blue planet of ours and make all of them pay, those fools that mocked me, the entire military that found my inventions to be highly dangerous and tried to hide me away.”

He adjusts his hold on the stone as he rises up to stand, raising his fist in the air. “Oh but I will show them, I will make them pay and show to everyone what happens when you banish the most dangerous mastermind in the entire cosmos!”

He snapped his head at a nearby orange mushroom and gasped dramatically. "I am not being overdramatic Jerome! They obviously know what I'm capable of!"

He pauses as he continues staring at the non verbal fungus, letting out a growl as he made his way closer to it. "Oh you’re one to talk! I can see why Karen left you for Javier! You're always being so obnoxious!"

He glares at ‘Jerome’ for a few more seconds before letting out a huge yell, grabbing the stalk and ripping it out of the ground.

“MY WEIGHT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR REAL ESTATE! THAT WAS YOUR MISTAKE!”

He threw the mushroom and watched as it bounced against the surrounding fungi, disappearing from sight as it fell deeper into the jungle below.

Panting heavily, he turned and pick up agent Stone and cradled it close to his head. “See what I mean? This is what happens when people don’t use the full integrity of their brains? They end up like Jerome, falling into a endless pit of dispair and failures.

“I hope I did you proud Karen.” he murmurs as he walks stiffly by the two mushrooms, avoiding eye contact.

He looked down at his makeshift pack of ship debris, sitting on top was a broken clear tube, containing a thick, giant blue quill inside it.

He stared intently at the pile as his brain worked through his thoughts. He slowly grasp the tube and stares at its faint glow, still beating with the pure energy.

He smiles a crooked grin as he faces the sun setting on the horizon. "And I can't to finally spread what we have discovered to the world."

=======

Date log: 4@# days since banishment.

Sparks and sounds of zapping echoes throughout the vacant area as Robotnik put the finishing touches on his makeshift portal. He cleared his throat, hoarse from the dryness of the air as he sat back on his knees underneath his smelly, makeshift hut.

"Calibration is at 69.9 percent, dimensional vortex is stabilizing and water rations have officially run out." He drinks the last mouthful of water as he tosses the container away and continues to work on the machine.

"This is the day my young tablet friend, today is the day the world will scream my name with horror and praise! He looks over to the corner of the hut where "agent Stone" is, who was placed on cushion made of mushroom tops.

"Behold, to what is to be one of my greatest creation, a portal to another world." He backs up in awe as he looks at at the machine.

"I'll admit it's smaller than I would've like it be." The machine in question was a small circle shaped design and was only less than two meters in height and size, with the quill as the main power source, still flickering on the ground near it. "It's going to be a tight fit, but it's better than nothing."

He pauses and looks over to agent Stone, walking over slowly and picking it up. "There's one mishap in our success, Stone." He shifts the rock to the crook of his arm. "The portal only has enough energy to transfer only one form of solid mass to our destination....and it's a one way trip."

Even though he managed to get it operational, he soon found out that the power wasn't enough for it to be fully functional for travel hopping. "Unfortunately one of us is going to stay behind."

He glances down at the stone solemnly. "I know this is a tough decision, for the both of us. We've been through alot for these past...." he quickly checks his data log on his wrist. "Five hundred and......something days, now we have to part ways and tell our stories to those who will wonder what we were before this tragedy."

He dramatically puts his hand to his head, closes his eyes and sighs. A moment of silence passes before he peeks a eye at the stone in his arm and tilts his head.

"I literally just poured my heart and soul out to you in a matter of pure respect and the only thing you say in reply is how I managed to survive this whole ordeal with proper food or nutrients?"

"You're making it real hard for me to feel sorry for leaving you behind." His face then morphs into a look of anger. "What makes you think anyone will listen to you? No one here can actually hear you except for me!"

His arms start trembling as he shakes the stone back and forth. "You already know I had to burn my shoes each night for us to keep warm, eat parts of my flight suit, the fact that I need to look at these unshaven legs already disgusts me! Do you really like to mock my distress? You know what happens when you mock me!!!" He starts to squeeze his hands against the rock before droppping the stone completely on the ground, backing up and stares at his hands in shock. "I...*pant* I didn't want to do this, but I have no other choice."

He makes his way towards scraps of unused parts. Getting down on his knees, he starts to spark to wires together and holds them near a small patch of grass.

"No one can figure out what has happened here, it's too risky." He waved a hand over the small flame that ignited and added more grass to it. "I hope-...i know you will understand."

Flames start to climb from the grass to the fungal walls as smoke begins to fill the small space. He coughs as he turns on the machine and waits in anticipation as it hums to life and the blue vortex appears in front of him.

"I'll admit that was nice, having you around all this time. Helping making sure I always kept focus, words of encouragement and your killer chilli stew on Tuesdays." He laughs as the scent of the smoke makes his throat burn. He gets down in his stomach and backs his feet in first towards the opening, he turns his head towards Stone, still laying sideways on the ground.

"Make sure you keep listening to that rock-connaissance, Jerome is still out there looking for me and you'll need it when he comes back." He looks the stone one last time, crawling his whole body through into the vortex, with his hand reaching out to snatch the quill before he disappeared completely.

=======

The first thing he saw was brightness, due to the natural, obscure lighting of the mushroom planet, his eyes weren't adjusted to Earth's natural light. He felt his arms dangle above his head as he rapidly blinks his eyes and warps his head around. Even at the odd upside down angle, he managed to get his body through little by little.

Wiggling his body around, he eventually fell face first onto the ground as his legs plopped down after him. Letting out a pained groan, he rolled onto his back as he saw to vortex slowly close with a few vapors of smoke spilling out if it before closing completely. A loud, sharp bang echoes as it disappears, shaking the windows and triggering car alarms on street, causing a few of the people to cower and run from the scene.

Despite the brightness of the sun, all he felt was coldness on the side of his body, he could feel the roughness of it's texture, rocks? No, pavement. He groaned as he pulls himself up in a sitting position and looks around. He could see that he was in a open section between two buildings, trash cans and dumpsters took up the space and sidewalk near the leading towards an open road in front of him. An alleyway. He looks past the alley and sees large machines with wheels driving from the left of right. Cars

"Yes...YES!!! HAHAHA!!! IVO ROBOTNIK IS BACK TO RULE THE WORLD BABY!!! He danced around and spun in circles as he caught the attention of a few people walking past the opening, either walking away or stopping to film the crazed man.

He put his arm against the wall to regain his balance as he caught his breath. He checked his wristband and honed in on his current location, after a few painstaking seconds, he saw the text of where the portal had taken him.

Green Hills, Montana.

He felt his grin widen as he chuckled. "So we're back to the place of origin of the battlefield?" For months he always dreamed of getting revenge on those who dealt with him, memorizing their names and faces so he absolutely knew who to make suffer.

Tom....

Maddie....

Wade.....whiplash?

....Sonic......

"That hedgehog....if he's still here..." Walking slowly, he near the end of the alley, still ignoring the few random people filming him. "The energy from the portal gave off is likely to alert someone from the government or even the national guard. Once they come, it's a huge possibility that they could have me arrested due to all that collateral damage I managed to do in San Francisco....eh I'll just blame it on the govenor."

"Officer! Officer! He's right over here!" His head snapped towards the end of the road as he hears a woman yell and point in his direction, alerting two sheriff officers. “Ó, gāisǐ de” He quickly books it down the sidewalk and onto the clearing of the street. He ignores the pain of rocks and debris on his bare feet as he pushes past pedestrians walking on the side walk.

As he ran, he looks back to see how many are following him, causing him to bump into a small figure and crashed to the ground. A high pitched voice cried out in pain as he got back and swipe a quick glance at the person, he only caught a glismp of their abnormally pink hair as he continued to run.

One of the officers, who was tailing behind the others stopped and checked on the person on the ground, a small rabbit girl near her was helping her stand up. "Hey, you alright Amy?" She rubbed her head as she looks up at the officer. "Yeah, I'm alright Wade. Who the heck was the maniac?"

"I have a feeling I know who it could be. It's best if you go and take cover at the veterinary, this guy isn't a normal case we usually deal with." She nodded as she took the young girl's hand and ran the opposite direction as Wade continued after the others.

=======

"Hey you! Stop!" He kept pushing forward as he cut through the crowd, ignoring the weak, tired feeling in his legs. He changed tactics by running into traffic, nearly getting clipped by passing cars on both sides.

He banked left and ran into a parking lot, serpentining through the parked vehicles. 'My lab should be still around the area hidden in the woods, if I can get there...' The voices of the officer tailing behind him interrupted his thoughts, followed by sounds of sirens wailing in the distance.

'Oh great! Just what I need right now.' He continued to jog through the area until he got to a clearing leading a abandoned warehouse, a ravine flowing with water that leaded into the wooded area right behind the building.

He ducked through the entrance and climbed on top fallen pillars and broken machinery. Putting his hands on his knees, he panted heavy as he stood in the middle of the building.

He could hear the officers voices and their radios through the thin walls. "Geez this guy's fast! Someone radio in officer Wachowski! Tell him we need backup!"

He ran up one of the nearly broken steps to one of the main floors, peeking out the windows as more squad cars showed up. "Wachowski huh? Seems like he's still in charge of this sorry excuse for a police squad."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the blue quill, gleaming with malice. “Well, he’ll be in for quite a shocker once he sees me again.” With that, he took off his wristband and started gathering metal scraps that littered the floor before running into the darkness of the stairwell.

=======

Choppers started to hover in the overcast sky around the area as news anchors arrived on the scene and police put up barricades to hold back curious citizens from getting to close while Wade was going over instructions to one of the deputies in the parking lot.

"Marlo, do we have the whole perimeter contained?"

"Yes sir, we have squadrons of three placed at each corner of the building in case he tries to run again."

"Good, any word from officer Wachowski?”

“We’ve been trying to radio him in, he hasn’t responded yet.”

“Well he’d better get to it, because knowing how this man is from experience, he won't stop at nothing."

"What do you mean from experience sir?"

"I took literal a shot at him the first time he came here, I missed but it was a pretty close shot."

"Officer Whipple!" Wade turned his head towards a young voice, looking to see a small, yellow figure running at him.

"Miles? What are you doing here?" A young yellow fox skidded to a stop in front of him, his double tails faltering behind him and pushed his goggles off his eyes as he caught his breath.

"You shouldn't be in this area right now, We just picked up that-"

"I know *pant* I was the one that *pant* sent that analysis in."

"You what? How’d you- Wait a second, all the schools are on lockdown, how'd you even get out?"

"Don't worry about that. I didn't set anything on fire this time."

He crossed his arms. "Do your folks know that you're out here?"

"Ehm, no. I just wanted to see if the analysis was accurate.....is it really him?"

He looked at the kit with a grim expression. "I'm afraid so kid." He saw the child's shoulders tense and fur ruffle on his back as he backed away and went on his handheld.

Before he could console him, another officer called him over from a nearby patrol car. "Hey! Make sure you stay behind the barriers ok?" He sees Tails nod in response as he leaves.

After looking to see that Wade wasn't watching him, he quickly ducked behind a vacant patrol car. Putting in a ear piece, he dialed the contact on his Miles Electric. After two rings, a low voice finally answers.

*Hi Tails. If you’re calling me about the reason why your show wasn't recorded from last night, it was Tom, he didn't want you to be upset about it since he knew it was the season finale and-*

"I'm calling you cause i-Hold on, it was Tom that did that?"

*Yeah...sorry bud. He didn't want to ruin your day.*

"Ok no, that's not why I'm calling. Haven't you heard what's been happening? I thought they were calling you into the field?"

*Yeah they still are, I'm in North Dakota right now.*

"Why the heck are you over there?

*Hey, it's my lunch break and I decided to see a different setting today. Oh I wanted to tell you, they're having this career expo over here during this weekend that I think you'd like to go to since you wanted to-*

"Ok Sonic, I'm gonna stop you right there. You’re not going to believe what I just found out. I-"

*I'm guessing you're calling me about that strange anomaly your scanner picked up earlier?*

"Yes, actually and i don't know why you sound so calm about something like this."

*Probably because everytime we do get something similar to it, it's just another person from our species from our home planet seeking sanctuary so they can live here safely. So I apologize if I'm getting somewhat numb to this.*

Tails huffed at the lazy tone in his voice. “Sonic I'm being serious! This isn't like the time I came here, or even when Knuckles or Amy came here. This is something stronger, like it came from a farther distance."

*I mean I don't think there's any other people that come from another planet that could travel here, not without rings that is.*

"That's the thing, they didn't have the same energy structure like the warp rings. The type of energy they used....are the same ones that your quills give off when you power up."

Tails could swear he heard a sharp intake of breath as he waited for a response. *....What do you mean.....that it matches my energy?*

He lets out a heavy sigh before speaking. "Sonic....he's back."

The silence followed was so deafening, he could hear his own heart pounding in his ears, not even the sounds of the radios or sound of the choppers whirling in the distance could break it. "Sonic, are you still-?"

*I'll be right there.* With a rushed voice, he hung up the call. Tails stared at the picture of call ended as he let out a breath. “Oh man.”

About 20 seconds later, he could see a thin trail of blue closing in and braced himself as a figure appeared near him before he could blink.

The hedgehog’s fur had a more scruffy, wind blown look around his head and torso, sports tape that was wrapped around his forearms, had on a black t-shirt with a gun holster vest, which was empty for a simply more stylish look, and brown belt around his waist that held a pouch and a visible walkie talkie.

His gloves had a black outline, with white coloring around his fingers and palms, black knee pads and wore puma running sneakers, still keeping the red and white color scheme. A single gold ring hung on a chain around his neck, moving side to side as he approached the fox.

Tails stood still as he watched his brother walk toward him, his face neutral and his movements calm. Sonic gave a slight smile as he came over, wrapping Tails in a loose one armed hug. “Hey man.”

He awkwardly pats his back in return. “Hi, did you change clothes on your way here?”

“Yeah.” His voice sounded monotone, as if he was keeping his emotions in check. “Have you heard anything from Tom?”

“Oh, I overheard Wade say that he’s on the other side of town helping with a house robbery report, I don’t know when he’ll be here.”

“Hmm-mmm.” He kept his back turned to him as he continued to stare towards the building. “What about Knux or Ames?”

“I was talking to Amy on my way here, she’s with Cream at Maddie's job and I think Knuckles is with Tom right now.”

“Ok.” Walking closer to him, he could see Sonic’s jaw tightening, a slight scowl on his face as he crossed his arms. ‘I’ve barely seen him like this, each time he acts like this, he seems like a different person.’

“S-Sonic?” He mentally cursed himself as his voice came out in a timid whimper.

“Yeah, what’s up?” He turned his head, his eyes soften, his intense presence almost gone in a instant.

“Um....Do you want any he-.”

“No.” He interrupts him with a sharp voice before clearing his voice and speaking again. “I know you want to back me up in there, but I can’t let you do that. Not for this one.”

“But...Why not for this one? What if he tries something that catches you off guard?”

“He won’t catch me off guard. I fought him before and I managed to get rid of hi-.”

“You don’t know that! I can at least back you up in there so you won't be alone." He could feel his heart race as his voice rose in pitch.

"Tails-."

"No! I'm not letting you go in there alone!" He yells right at him, his voice cracking slightly. Sonic flinches at the unexpected tone before taking the fox by the shoulders and leading him away to a more quiet spot, all the while avoiding the confused glances of the other officers.

"Ok, just take a breath." The cub obliged as Sonic kept a hand on his shoulder. "What's going on?"

"I...just think that it’s a bad idea for you to go in there alone."

"Tails listen to me, this guy is a serious deal. He almost managed to kill me when he first found out about me, he was the first ever person to keep up with me at my speed and he threatened the lives of Tom, Maddie and everyone in this town if I didn't go with him. If it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be here right now."

"I don't want to lose you too, not to someone like him, not again.” His voice became quiet and closed his eyes, as if to hold back tears. Even without an full explanation, Sonic knew exactly what he was referring to.

The young kit had come to this world, looking for him in particular to help save their homeworld. Their efforts weren't enough as the enemy was much stronger than they anticipated and eventually lost the battle, including the planet, with pockets full of mobians coming into the town of Green Hills bit by bit in search of sanctuary.

During all of this, Tails ended up losing his parents in the chaos, turned into metallic slaves among the hordes of lost citizens who suffered the same fate.

Crouching down, he clasped his small hands in his as he spoke softly. “I know you're worried about this, trust me I am too." He gently lifts his head up so he could make full eye contact. "But after what happened here, after what happened to Mobius....I want to make sure I don't make that same mistake again, I don't want you to go through that again."

Tails held his gaze for a few seconds before nodding and wiping his eyes. "O-ok, I g-got it." Soni pulled him into a tight embrace, feeling relieved that he felt him return the hug.

His eyes lit up as a idea popped into his head, he patted Tails back as they pulled away. "Hey, does your Miles Electric still have that 25 foot signal radius?"

"Um yeah it still does, why?"

"I know how you can help me."

=======

*Can you hear me all right?*

“Loud and clear buddy, just waiting for the all clear from Wade."

*Copy that.* Tails watched from his spot on the roof of one of the surrounding houses, typing in data on his electric as Sonic neared the cleared entrance. ‘I’m not sure what I should be even feeling right now. I don’t feel scared but-.’ He gripped and ungripped his hands as he tapped his foot. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out. “It’s going to be fine.” His eyes snapped open as he heard his walkie go off on his belt.

*You're all clear officer Wachowski, we'll send in two squads after you go in. good luck in there.*

"10-4." He turned the walkie off and trudged into the warehouse. Stepping lightly, he glanced around at pillars and empty rooms, listening for any sound he could pick up.

He jumped slightly as a tiny voice activated in his ear. *Is everything going ok in there?*

He sighed annoyingly. “Yes, so far nothing's in view. Just make sure you watch for anything I can’t see, I need my full ears on this one."

*Oh ok, sorry.*

He cracked his neck and quickly stretched his arms and legs before zipping up to a visible steel bar. Thunder rumbled in the distance as he looked around at the endless rooms of scrap metal. 'Geez intense mood setting much?'

Using his speed, he glanced into each room and staircase as he searched for any sign of the doctor. He got to a inner stairwell as he noticed a footprint of a bare foot on the wet ground. 'Well either that's him or some barefoot hobos have been living here.' He speed to the top and stop near the entryway, perking his ears towards a slight clatter in the hallway.

He cautiously moved forward through the dimly lit hallway as he felt his heart beat in his ears. He lightly slapped his face as tried to control his breathing. 'Come on man get it together! You can't hear anything if you just hear your blood pressure going up.'

"Hello hedgehog." He yelped as he heard the all too familiar voice come from behind him, he jumped into a fighting pose while turning around, he saw nothing but continued to hear the voice. “I was expecting dear old Thomas to join me today, but I this is so much better.” Sonic heard a heavy object fall behind him and spun around to see a wooden pillar had fallen.

“Oh how I missed the look of you cowering in fear." He could hear the sneering in his voice as he continued down the hallway.

Sonic scoffed as he spoke loudly. "Says the guy hiding in the shadows like a damn coward."

"Oh such vulgar words for someone like your popularity, be careful it might ruin your image." He took off trying to follow the voice, it leading him up to the top floor and into a wide, open room.

*Any sign of him yet?*

He whispered as he walked into the room. “Not exactly, he’s doing some creepy, ghostbprojection thing with his voice and I followed it to the top floor. Just scan for anything that looks suspicious in here.”

*Got it.* He rubbed his arms as he shivered against the cool wind blowing through the broken walls and windows. He stood in the shadows as he heard water dripping from the broken pipes and the buildings structure moaning as the air got more humid from the oncoming storm, an assortment of wooden crates scattered around the entire room. 'Not much to hide behind up here, he's just running himself into a corner by doing that.'

"Looking for me?" He felt his spine chill as he looked in the far corner of the room. Sitting crisscrossed on top of one of the wooden crates was the mad doctor himself, giving him a predatory stare and crude grin.

"Yes, I am actually." He swallowed as his mouth felt suddenly dry, despite the moisture in the air. He reached behind his back as he continued to converse with him. "You look horrible."

Robotnik let out a low chuckle as he let his legs fall in front of him, banging hard against the side of the crate. "My apologies, it's been awhile since I've had a decent shower you see."

Sonic continued to stand in the shadows as he unclipped his walkie talkie and raised it to his mouth, stiffening as he saw the human raise his arm towards him, his gloved hand clenched in a fist. "That's a no-no."

Sonic let out a small grunt as he felt the walkie let out a few sparks in his hand before it fell to pieces onto the ground. ‘The heck?’

“Don’t want them ruining our fun now do we?” He jumped down from the crate and walked out of the shadows. The man had looked like he went through a typhoon, his skin had a bad sun kissed color and his flight suit was covered in dirt, grass and mud, his pants were split and tattered above his knees, the sleeve on his right side of his jacket was completely ripped off while his left hand was behind his back, he could faintly see it was covered in a grey-ish color, a faint blue glow could be seen between his fingers. ‘That explains why he was able to destroy the walkie like that, but what is he holding?’

His face was also covered in mud, mixed in with the stubble of a beard growing on his face. His once neat, brown mustache was now unkempt and sun bleached with hints of gray sprouting through, his teeth slightly yellowed and laced with plaque.

“Actually scratch that last comment, you look absolutely disgusting.” Sonic snarked as Robotnik simply shook his head.

“Yeah, the sight of me probably makes you absolutely nauseated. So then why aren’t you coming closer? Unless you’re afraid of a little halitosis?”

*I’ve got two spot located near you, one is 2 feet away, the other is about 3 feet.*

“Ok.”

“Well?” He flinched, upon realizing that he heard him respond to his ear piece, but not realizing that he wasn’t talking to him.

He started to sprint towards the man, getting halfway into the room when he felt one of his legs be pulled back and something thin wrap tightly around both of his ankles, causing him to fall on his hands and knees.

“Gah!” He let out a yelp of pain as he whipped his head towards his legs, finding that thin, metal wires that was leading into the floor boards was wrapped painfully around his ankles.

*Sonic? Sonic, what happened?*

He let out a few grunts as he tried to pull his legs out of the snare but it only made the wires even tighter, digging more into his fur. He tried to loosen the wire from the floor as he heard Robotnik footsteps coming near him. “For someone who runs at the speed of sound, I’m disappointed you didn’t know that was there.

“Well, it’s not like there’s any spotlights in here, if there was you’d be able to see how much you look like a gargoyle that had a bad, cheap spray tan.” He snickers at the poor joke, despite the situation he was in. ‘Oh god, I knew Tom’s jokes would be the end of me eventually.’

“Oh har hardy har, the boy’s got jokes up his sleeves. I have some jokes too, want to hear them?”

“Not really.” Ivo ignores him as he keeps talking.

“Ah here’s my favorite one! What did the hedgehog say to the doctor when he asked what was his condition?”

He remained quiet as he whipped his head towards him, glaring and keeping his hand on the wires, still trying to loosen it.

“Uncontrollable screaming.” Robotnik pressed his thumb to the side of his hand, causing electric shocks to travel from under the floor, up the wire and up the hedgehog’s legs and body.

Sonic immediately dropped his head to the floor, clenching his fists and curled up as he fought against the shocks. ‘Try to focus it....try to focus on it!’ He tried to channel the flow of the electricity currently coursing through him, but it was too much at once for him to handle.

*Sonic! Just hang on! I can see where the currents coming from. Aaand I got it!*

He felt the shocks stop as he limply fell to the side. “Oh damn cheap thing, it seems to have worked though, don’t want you to glow bright like a glow stick again. It’s all thanks that parting gift you gave me.” He opens his hand to reveal the blue quill, attached to some circuitry and connected to screen of his wrist log.

He felt a sudden cold hit his body as he stared at the very same quill that he used against him so long ago. "How do you still have that?"

"It's been with me the whole entire time, of course you didn't realize that when you were on that high shot of energy, with the blue eyes and everything. Maybe I will be able to use this new powers on the humans rather than you? I wonder if they'll be able to hold out as long as you have?"

He felt a snarl come onto his face as he felt his own energy pour out of his quills, his sight became sharper and his hands dug into the wood, scratching the floor. "Don't you even dare think about touching them-." His voice cut off as he felt the electricity activate again, this time more excruciating than the last. He suddenly felt himself getting weaker as the glow of his quills dimmed and his eyesight became blurry.

Robotnik, now closer, let out a noise of surprise as he looked at his screen. "Ay dios mio! I knew you had alot of power in you, but I didn't know you had this much!" Sonic laid on the floor, panting heavy as he heard Robotnik boast about his invention. 'Did..is he trying to drain my power from me?'

Ivo tilted his head to the side as he looked at the hedgehog flinching on the ground. “Hmm the only thing is that wasn’t so much as screaming as I would have hoped, more like tiny baby whimpers. Now, shall we try that agai-....what the?”

He suddenly felt one of his top quills being grabbed and pulled up until he was on his feet, causing the pain to increase in his legs. He grabbed onto the man’s arm in retaliation to let him go but had no effect on him.

“What happened to you?” He questioned, sounding audibly confused as he looks at Sonic. “Why do you look like this?”

He winced as Robotnik kept a firm grip on his ear. He answers with a hiss. “What? I like wearing shirts now, don’t judge me.” Through his broken goggles, he could see the man’s eyes widen as he felt him let go of the quill completely, quickly catching himself with his arms.

He backed up and paced back and forth, muttering to himself. “No,no no no that’s not it. I immediately knew it was you despite your voice sounding different, but your appearance...” He looked back at him with his hand on his chin. “You wouldn’t change this much in just a year.”

Sonic froze, repeating that statement in his mind. 'A year...?’

*Did I just hear him correctly? He just said a year right?* “Yeah, Yeah he did.” Not even realizing he was talking out loud at this point, he sat back on his knees, minding his still trapped legs.

“Why are you referring to yourself in the 3rd person? It doesn’t work that well for everyone like it does for me.”

“Wha-no, you just said it’s been a year since you’ve been gone?

“A year and 6 months actually, that’s interesting how your species apparently hit puberty at a certain rate like that. You look almost completely different.”

Then it hit him, even though he looked disheveled, Robotnik still looked like the same man he fought all those years ago. Just more crazier. “What year do you think it is?”

He was visibly caught off guard by the question, crossing his arms he answered smugly. “It’s the year 2019 of course, don’t know why you need clarification on that.”

“You think it’s been almost two years since you left earth?”

“I know it’s been almost two years and I wouldn’t say “left” earth, forcibly evicted is the word I would use for that statement.”

“Dude....it’s been 10 years, it's currently the year 2029." Silence filled the room as Sonic saw Robotnik flinch as they continued to stare at each other, he went to say something but his voice got caught in his throat as his face morphed into a frown. "That's impossible."

Sonic let out a unintended laugh at the denial. "Impossible? It's been that long here."

"No it hasn't, my calculations might be off by a few months if anything. But it hasn't been a bloody decade."

"You literally just said I looked completely different! I was a teen when you last saw me, I'm in my 20’s now. Heck even the town is different!”

"You can’t possibly be that old now! Your genetics wouldn't show that kind of quick progress."

"Just because I'm a different species doesn't mean I don't age differently than humans."

"How dare you talk like what I’m saying doesn’t make any sense! I know what I’m talking about!”

"Do you? Cause it sounds like what you're saying doesn't even make sense to you!"

“And who’s fault is that!?!” Ivo’s voice rose in volume, making Sonic flinch back at his voice.

“Huh?”

“The reason why I’m like this now is because of you! My entire life was ruined when you banished me to that hellish planet! My mind slowly went mad as each month passed And what do I find when I finally make it back? That a damn decade has past all because you just wouldn’t let me experiment on you!!”

‘I..is he serious?’ He sat there flabbergasted as Robotnik unloaded his inner emotions. “You tracked me and Tom down across so all you could do was perform tests on me like a animal! Why the hell would I go with you after knowing that?”

“It’s better than throwing someone to a inhabited planet with no way to home!”

“You choose that path! It’s your fault that you ended up there! Don’t blame me for doing something that could be so obviously wrong, even to the so called ‘smartest guy on the planet’ and think you deserve better!”

"SILENCE!!" He pressed the side of his hand again, the metal around his hand making a slight crackling sound as Sonic felt the electricity activate once again.

Sonic screamed out and writhed in pain on the floor as he felt energy being drained from all over his body. *Son-ic? Bzzzzt, So-nic!?..bzzzt.* he could hear the signal cut off as the device got shorted out.

Panting hard, Ivo looked at the hedgehog crying out in pain on the floor, feeling no sense of joy, pleasure or anything that he usually would feel when torturing people. He backed away slowly, his mind started to race. 'A full decade? Could that really true? What has happened here when I was gone? Do they all think I'm missing? Do they all think I'm dead? Agent Stone, does agent Stone believe I'm...?'

"POLICE! GET DOWN ON THE GROUND! PUT YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!" He turned towards the sound of several officers barging into the room, guns drawn directly at him. Two of the officers leading in the front caught his eye, the one he remembered from his last day on earth, nearly hitting him with a single bullet in his air mobile. The other officer in the front he immediately recognized, the man's face was in a scowl as he locked eyes with him with such fierce intensity, before the sound of the hedgehog's screaming caught his attention.

"Sonic?!" He went closer to the body and reached out his hand before recoiling it back in pain at the sharp shocks. He growled as he got up and cocked his gun. "Turn the machine off."

He glances down at his hand and answers him bluntly. "I can't do that Thomas."

"The hell you can't, turn it off now!"

"I mean that I actually can't, I broke the device in hand in my fit of rage." He shrugged his shoulders as his ears picked up more footsteps coming up the stairs.

"What's going- oh no!" He could see a yellow figure run behind the officers and kneels on the ground near the hedgehog, who had stopped screaming and was curled up in a loose ball, still flinching. "Hold on, just hold on Onii-chan." He assured him as he got out a small handheld device and pointed it towards the wires, managing to turn off the currents and started to remove them.

He could hear the cops voice blur out as he watched the small creature work on his tablet, noticing two tails twitching anxiously behind him. 'There's another one like him here? How many more could there be here?'

"This is your last warning! Get down on the ground now!" He ignores their orders as he looks around at the open walls in the room. "No, don't even think about it!"

"Oh I'm thinking about it I'm afraid." With that he sprinted out the nearest open wall, ducking his head as he heard several loud bangs and feels a sharp pain in his leg. He jumps out through the wall, flailing his arms as he fell at the height of the building and fell into the water of the ravine. he heard several shouts coming from the parking lot as he let himself float downriver into the cover of the trees in the woods, still clutching the quill tightly in his hand.

=======

"Follow where that ravine goes! I want the town placed on a full lockdown! Make sure he doesn't get out of the tristate area and if you find him, be careful and bring him in alive." The others nodded as they ran out of the room.

"Wade!" His friend stopped in his tracks as Tom made his way over. "Make sure you take Knuckles with you and fill him in, you'll need the extra muscle with this one."

"Got it." He raced down the steps while Tom ran towards Sonic and Tails, who had managed to get rid of the snares on his legs while Sonic laid in and out of consciousness.

He got down on his knees and held Sonic's head in his lap, hearing him let out a sluggish moan while Tails scanned his body. "Is he ok Tails?" The cub didn't answer as he scanned over his brother's wrist, monitoring his heart rate. He breathed out a sigh of relief and wiped his eyes.

“His heart rate is normal, i don’t think anything’s broken, he did suffered some burns around parts of his legs from the snare traps. It could be 1st degree but we should have Maddie look at him just to be safe."

"Yeah that's a good idea." He radioed for a ambulance to arrive as he gathered Sonic in his arms bridal style. "It's gonna be okay son."

He went to head towards the stairs but saw that Tails had wandered away, looking where Robotnik had made his escape. "Tails?"

He continued to look where he had fled, looking at the ravine to the trees and shrubs where it disappeared into the woods.

He rubbed his arms as he looked down at the ground before looking at his guardian. "I'm really worried about this."

Tom adjusted Sonic in his arms as Tails walks over to him. "Yeah, I know and I don't blame you."

He shook his head as he came closer. "I mean that I'm worried about who this guy is. I remember all about the crazy stories you guys told me about him, from when he was hunting Sonic to when the government told you about him, but he managed to live on that barren planet filled with nothing but mushrooms for so long. He managed survive all of that."

Tom sighed as they made their way down the stairs. "This isn't a normal man that we're dealing with, he's....something that could be dangerous even to himself if he had the chance.”

"Sonic told me something like that earlier before he went in, It made me even more worried after he told me about why I couldn't go in with him. When I heard him screaming like that and I wasn't able to pick up anything on the electric, I just.....froze, I didn't know what to do until I saw you pull up."

"Well it's a good thing you're a pretty fast flyer and have a very high piercing voice." He joked lightly as they made their way out the building and heard the ambulance sirens in the distance.

"Since he's still out there, there's no telling what's going to happen now that he know about not only Sonic still being here, but also me and any other mobians that live here?"

Tom ponders as he looks at Sonic's sleeping face to Tails' bright blue eyes staring at him.

"I don't know what will happen, but I will promise you this." He gets on one knee, being mindful of Sonic's injured legs. "Not only I, but Maddie, Wade, the whole town, even Crazy Carl will do everything within our power to make sure that all of you guys are safe. It's why you all came here, so we will make sure you stay here."

He smiled brightly and nodded his head at him as he felt his tails wag behind him. Tom winked as he saw the ambulance pull up and carefully jogged towards it.

Tails fiddled with his gloves as he looked around at the civilians, both human and mobian gathered near the barriers to see what was happening. He made his way over toward the ambulance, his fur chilled and damp from the misty rain.

“At this point, this new adventure that has emerged is plauged with so much uncertainty for all of us. But I know that somehow, we will fight through and win this one. Just like my people who escaped the tyranny of our world, just like my new friends and family. Cream, Amy, Knuckles and Sonic, even just like Robotnik. I am a survivor, we are all survivors and I will make sure that our future will no longer be in vain to this new world.”

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damienthepious · 4 years

Text

[spoilers re: the new ep redacted]

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 11)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [ao3] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [Ch 19]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol)

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: It is just the three of them, for a while. Until that begins to feel almost normal.

Chapter Notes: Psst. Happy Lizard Kissin' Tuesday! I am tired and have ceased to be creative. Chapter specific warnings for... hm. Some fraught arguments, I'll say. Not much more than that, this time.

Damien prefers to stay in the room, if Rilla and Arum are sharing space. Paranoid, Rilla thinks, but she can usually keep the frustration of it from biting at her. He's mostly harmless, anyway, and if she can get him talking enough to where he seems to forget Arum is there, it's almost pleasant. Arum pretends not to care one way or the other, but Rilla knows his body language well enough to tell when he's either nervous about Damien's scrutiny, or alternatively when he's just as drawn in to Damien's stories as she is.

"Amaryllis… explain the muttering to me," he asks, some afternoon when Damien has left to report back to the Citadel.

"The muttering?"

"Incessantly," Arum growls. "The muttering of your little knight. He is a poet, that much I understand, and the constant spinning of tales is not entirely disagreeable, but even leaving that aside, must he be always chanting to himself?"

"Yeah," Rilla says. "He actually does kind of must."

Arum frowns. "What do you mean?"

"It's important to him. Praying to Saint Damien."

"Saint," Arum hisses darkly, rolling his eyes.

"It helps him think, helps him keep himself calm."

"Tranquility," Arum mutters, his frown deepening. "Hm. That does not bother you, then? His chattering?"

"It's important to him," Rilla repeats. "Saints know I have my own irritating habits, anyway." She pauses as Arum scoffs, and then she shrugs. "I mean, I'd be lying if I said I never got annoyed with him, but I love him. Talking to himself- talking to his Saint doesn't hurt anything. If it makes him happy, I wanna do my best to support that."

"How magnanimous of you," Arum drawls, his teeth bared in a vaguely malicious smirk.

Rilla frowns. "Don't."

He blinks. "Don't- what?"

"I know that look," she says. "I know you like pushing his buttons, and I know he's cute when he's flustered, but this- it wouldn't be the same, Arum."

"I- cute? I don't have the first idea what you are talking about, takatakataka."

"It's fine if you tease him," Rilla continues, "but I'd really appreciate it if you made an effort not to make fun of him for that."

Arum opens his mouth, then snaps it shut, and then he flinches and looks away from her for a long rattling moment. "I… I do not intend to do the knight any favors, Amaryllis, but I am perfectly capable of verbal sparring without taking a cheap shot," he mutters, and she buries a smile because of course he wouldn't agree because she asked, but if it's about his own pride-

"Thank you," she says anyway, and then she changes the subject before his growling gets too out of hand.

Rilla leans in the doorway of her hut in the morning, coffee steaming in her hand, slowly rounding out to awake as she watches Damien go through his routine with a lazy sort of hunger curling in her stomach.

She hears Arum behind her, limping slowly from his room on the crutch, and she tries not to feel irritated that he's pushing himself instead of asking for help. He is getting stronger, she reminds herself, and she buries the little flash of nerves that comes with the thought.

"Morning, Arum," she murmurs over her shoulder, and instead of going towards the table she hears him pause, and then approach, the crutch thumping rhythmically against the wood of her floor.

"What are you doing, little doctor? Why have a door at all if you intend to leave it hanging in the… wind…"

She doesn't turn towards him, tilting her head to better watch the way Damien is stretching instead. "Morning routine," she mumbles, her voice catching on a yawn at the end. "His, and mine too."

"A-ah," Arum says, and she hears him whir out a strange sort of exhale. "Routine?" he echoes. "He does this… regularly, then?"

"Almost every morning." She takes a slow sip of coffee, and then tilts her head the other way, watching the light gleam off of Damien's skin as he rolls his shoulders before he moves into his next set of forms. "Mm."

"And the- his- clothing-"

Rilla hums again, sighing a light laugh. "No point in getting his shirt all sweaty if he can avoid it," she says, making no effort to disguise the pleasure in her voice. "You won't hear any complaints from me," she murmurs, and then she takes another sip. "Anyway. You sleep alright, Arum?"

He doesn't answer for a moment, and Rilla glances over her shoulder. Arum's head is tilted as hers had been, his lips just barely parted, his tongue is flicking lightly, and his eyes are very obviously fixed on Damien.

Huh.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Hmm…" Arum trails off, then he blinks quickly as he seems to realize what she actually said. He flinches, the crutch skidding a step against the wood, and Rilla reaches automatically to stabilize him as he hisses in alarm. "Ah-"

"Whoa, easy- I've got you-"

He shakes his head, readjusting and then taking a large and decisive step back from her, back from the door.

"I-" his frill flutters, but he clenches his teeth and it settles before it can flare entirely. "Certainly you will forgive me for being distracted by the sight of the outdoors, Amaryllis. I have been cooped up in this hut for- for entirely too long. I am unused to prolonged captivity, I am sure you understand," he hisses, looking very deliberately away from both herself and the door, and then he hobbles over to sit at the table, growling low as he goes.

Rilla watches him go, too stunned to really respond to that. After a moment, the monster still refusing to look her way, she bites her tongue, and then she closes the door.

When Rilla comes into his room Arum is sitting on the edge of his cot, shoulders stiff, and he has her recorder in his claws. He stares up at her, eyes narrowed to vivid violet slits, hard and flat and angry, and Rilla feels a little pang of confused dread drop through her.

“Arum?” she says, and the monster’s lip curls into a sneer as he presses the button down on the device.

“Subject is severely injured,” says Rilla-in-the-past, her voice crackling through the recording and noticeably detached. “Wounds consistent with… attack by another monster. Likely, multiple.” The version of herself on the recording sighs. “Injuries will likely prove fatal. I’ve done what I can to stabilize the subject, but it hasn't regained consciousness, and it's unlikely that it will. Honestly, I would be surprised if it survives the night. Which is unfortunate, since this seems like it might actually be some sort of new and undocumented ashdragon variant, or possibly something even less documented than that, which would make it utterly unique. I guess I’ll see if it regenerates when this particular body dies, and then I’ll have that answer, at least.” Another sigh, some shifting noises. Rilla imagines herself moving some papers aside, possibly a bestiary being closed. “Well, either way I’ll get some interesting data out of it. Even if it doesn’t regenerate when it dies, I’m sure I’ll be able to learn something useful in dissection.”

Arum stops the playback. He drums his claws off of the recorder in a rapid-fire staccato, still staring up at her in silence.

“Arum,” she tries again after a moment.

“I hope, human, that I have provided enough useful data in my convalescence that I have made up for the inconvenience of not dying and presenting you the option of weighing my internal organs.”

“That's not-”

“I knew it was all a lie, I knew there was no possibility that your precious little I am a doctor nonsense was genuine.”

“It was, Arum, I didn’t lie-”

“You kept me alive to gather data. You’ve been spoon-feeding me so as to get a better picture of how your knights might take me and my kin to pieces. None of this was because you-” he cuts off. “How long were you planning to maintain this little play-act? How long until your pet knight was meant to slit my throat? Did you simply want to get in sight of my nest before you destroyed me? How much data were you going to gather before you decided you had properly wrung me dry, Amaryllis?”

“That wasn’t what I-”

“Don’t lie to me, human! I have had enough of this farce.”

Rilla presses her lips together, her throat feeling tight. He’s not going to listen, right now. Not to her, not to-

He won’t listen to her now. But…

“Skip ahead on the recorder,” she says.

“What?”

“Skip to entry four two one one. Should be… eighteen to twenty after the one you just played, I think.”

“Why?” he snarls, ducking his head and clutching the recorder close against the bandages on his midsection.

“Because there’s something else you should hear, too. You heard what I said when I first found you. You should hear what I said after. If you really think that I’ve been using you for some sort of spy work, then the rest of it should interest you too, right?”

He hesitates, his expression tightening. “Perhaps I have no interest in hearing myself cataloged, doctor.”

“Please. Just- listen to it. And then you can decide if you want to- I don’t know. How you want to proceed. But before you make any sort of decision, please- please just listen, Arum.”

Arum stares at her for another long moment, suspicious with a growl in his throat, and then he moves his thumb, sending the recording forward with a thin squeal of sound. He overshoots the start of the entry a little, and it cuts in just in the middle of a word.

“-ter than that, and it seems like his frill is really starting to knit together properly. Finally. It’s been tricky since it’s only a half-conscious thing, the flaring, but- I mean, it’s hard to complain about. It’s always so funny when he gets indignant and it just- fwoops out like that and-”

She laughs on the recording, breathless, and Rilla remembers this moment with exact clarity. The door to his room had been cracked, she could just see half his face through the gap as he rested, the gentle light of early morning on his scales and his expression untroubled in sleep-

“He’s beautiful,” she says, and she still feels the little stunned swoop that realization had made her feel. “He’s… I didn’t know a monster could be so beautiful. I didn’t know they could be funny either, honestly, or- or-”

There is a pause.

“Saints…”

Another pause. Quite long.

“He… um. He’s improving by leaps and bounds, now,” she says, her voice a little clipped, a little muted. “He can almost stand on his own, though it tires him out. He’s… soon he’ll be well enough to travel, I think. Which means we’re going to have to have another conversation, soon, about- about exactly how we're gonna get him back home. And that shouldn’t… it shouldn’t hurt to think about that, should it? It’s good. It’s a good thing that he’s… soon he’ll be well enough to go home, to be free again, to go back where he belongs and rest and recover where he’ll be comfortable and safe, but-”

A little half-laugh.

“I’m gonna miss him, is the only thing. I’ve gotten so used to having him around, and- and even if he’s always arguing about the methodology he’s been so- it’s been nice to have him around when I’m doing my experiments, I mean- it would have taken me ages to think of modifying my bandages with machracnid silk, and the improvement to the elasticity is- but that isn’t even the point, you know? He’s just- he’s-”

Less of a laugh.

“It's almost time for him to go home. It’s the only way to keep him safe. The longer he stays here- I know Damien won't hurt him, not anymore. I think he’s seen it too, he’s seen how- how much- he’s seen Arum, really seen him. I know he has. But every day Arum stays here is another risk, is another chance that he’ll be seen or- and if that happens, then what? I don’t care what they do to me, I’m not afraid of them, but Arum- he’s still not strong enough to defend himself, and even if he was, what would he do against an armed squadron of knights? I wouldn’t be able to do anything to protect him, and- he- I can’t let that happen. I won’t. I won’t let the Citadel hurt him. So- so… so he has to go home. It doesn’t matter that I- it doesn’t matter how I feel. I have to get him home. He deserves- he-”

“Amaryllis?”

Arum’s voice, distant and a little distorted on the recorder, and Rilla-in-the-past gasps lightly. Rilla remembers pressing a hand to her mouth. Remembers plastering on a smile.

“I’m here, Arum. Just a second.” A rustle, and then, quieter, “I’m gonna make him well again. And then I’m gonna get him home. I’ll miss him… I’ll miss him so badly. But I’ll get him home. End of log.”

Arum stares at the device in his hand, his frill flaring around his head in a way that Rilla would otherwise think is appropriately comical. Now, it just makes her want to do something foolish.

The next entry starts a little too loud and they both jump, Arum pressing his thumb decisively down on the button to stop the playback. When he finally looks up at her again, his eyes are still guarded, but no longer furious.

“What… what was the point of that, then?” he asks, voice thick and low.

“To show you how I think about you now. That first day- I didn’t know you, Arum. And that’s not an excuse. Monsters aren’t- you aren’t what I thought you were, and I had no idea- I was cruel. I was callous and clinical in a way that I hate, and I’m sorry you had to hear that. But I was never, never doing any of this to get information on monsters for the knights. Never. And I would do anything to keep them from hurting you now.”

“You… why?”

“I care about you.”

“You do not. I heard- what you said, you wouldn’t simply turn-”

“I don’t agree with how I dealt with the situation, Arum. I- I don’t see you in the same way. Not anymore, and- honestly? I stopped seeing you that way the first time you woke up and I saw- I saw that look in your eyes. And then it got more and more obvious the longer I was around you, the more I talked to you. You… Arum, the luckiest moment of my entire life was when I happened to look at the lake at just the right time to see you. If I hadn’t- if-” she has to stop, to press a hand to her mouth. “I hate the thought that if I just hadn’t looked, you would have died out there. Died alone, in that much pain, out in the wilds. That- Arum, you’re- you deserve- you’re special to me, and I had no idea how special you would be when I first found you.”

“So why keep those notes, then?” he asks after a pause, his tone carefully blank.

“Because,” she says, frowning. “Because of this. Not you finding them, I mean, but because you don’t learn from mistakes if you try to bury them. I’m not going to try to make something go away because it’s inconvenient. I was horrible, the way I talked about you, the way I thought about you, about all monsters. There’s- there so much more out there than I ever knew, and I can’t believe I let myself be so ignorant of it for so long.” She shakes her head, then after a half second of hesitation she steps towards him. She reaches a hand out and- he misinterprets, lifting out the recorder for her to take. She moves her hand aside, instead, slipping her palm along the back of his hand and wrapping her fingers around his wrist. He inhales, sharp, his eyes widening as he looks up at her. “I’m sorry, Arum. Sorry that I talked about you like that, and sorry that you had to hear it after I- after I finally convinced you to trust me, even a little. I’m sorry, and I hope I haven’t- I hope I haven’t broken anything that can’t still be fixed.”

“Amaryllis,” he says, and then he drops his eyes. He does not move his hand, his grip on the recorder flexing awkwardly. “You- you’ve broken nothing, Amaryllis. We- you-”

His voice scatters off, unsure and lost, and after a moment he raises two more hands, one to grip the hem of his cape, and the other reaching by slow inches to brush his palm down her forearm until he can loosely wrap his fingers around her wrist, an echo of the way she is holding him. Her skin tingles at the touch, the gentleness and the cool strange texture both.

“You’ve broken nothing,” he repeats in a low murmur, and then he finally looks up at her again, that gentle violet pinning her in place. “You… you are meant for mending, Amaryllis.”

Her dark cheeks darken further, her lips parting in wordless surprise, and their arms are still clasped as they stare- they are simply staring at each other, now, and-

“Your…” Arum swallows, his thumb on her wrist moving just barely, just gently, tickling the skin at the heel of her palm. “Your heart is beating quite quickly, Amaryllis.”

“You know what a- a quick pulse feels like, in a human?” She asks, raising an eyebrow despite the slight breathlessness in her tone.

“I know what your pulse sounds like. I know when it is…” he trails off, possibly at the way she blinks, startled.

“You can- hear my heart?” She gives the smallest breath of laughter. “Your hearing is ridiculous, huh?”

“Vastly superior to you mammals, anyway,” he mutters, and he barely makes an effort to act as if he means it.

“Your heart is beating pretty fast too, you know,” She says quietly, and his hand flexes against her skin.

“Y-yes, well,” he glances aside, then he sits up a little straighter without pulling away before he meets her eye again. “I apologize, also. For- for ambushing you with this.”

“You don’t have to,” Rilla shakes her head. “I know that what I said was-”

“I have been searching for things to distrust. Digging for proof of deception, for anything that would indicate that your intentions were false, so that I could have some fuel for my anger. I wanted to be angry with you. It is not… easy for me, to accept help, or to- to indulge in hope.” His mouth presses into an uncomfortable line, his frill pressing tight against his neck. “Always you are harping on evidence and proof, and I know- I have seen-” he exhales sharply, not quite a sigh. “I know that you are… genuine, in… caring for me. I do not understand it, but I know. And if- if you- if you are willing to show me such so readily, I should be able to…”

“Arum, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” Rilla says, and he shakes his head.

“If I ever-" he pauses. "When. When I return home, at last, I will… I will miss you as well, Amaryllis.”

Their eyes are fixed, each with a hand still gently clasped around the other’s wrist, and Rilla finds that she doesn't quite know how to breathe, with him looking at her like that. Not a great response, Rilla, keep it together-

“In fact,” Arum says very quietly, and his thumb brushes against her skin again and she shivers with gooseflesh instantly. “In fact, Amaryllis, I would say-”

“Rilla?”

Rilla only glances over her shoulder at the suddenness of Damien’s voice in the front room, but Arum pulls his hands away as if burned, his expression going shuttered and distant again. She can’t help the sting of frustration, at that. It’s not fair, of course. Damien is still… well, it’s difficult, anyway. But Rilla is stuck with her mind five seconds ago when Arum’s thumb was gentle on her wrist and he had started to say something. Something Rilla gets the feeling she’s not going to get the chance to know, now, like it’s been chased away. She feels like a glass that got struck on the edge of a table, still ringing. She wants to know where that moment was supposed to go, but now-

She sighs, smiling despite herself. “One sec, Damien,” she calls lightly. “Probably good that he reminded me,” she says, more casual than she feels as Arum looks up at her uncertainly. “I just got done making lunch. It should still be warm. Did you- do you want to join us? I promise I’ll make Damien behave, and if he doesn’t wanna he can just go eat on the stump outside again.”

She’s only half kidding, and the mild mischief in Arum’s eyes at that possibility manages to creep past his guarded veneer.

“I suppose that sounds… agreeable enough. I shall be interested to see if the little knight will stoop to share a table with a monster, today.”

“He’ll deal,” Rilla says. She takes the recorder back from him, and then lifts her hands out again. “Steady enough to stand, Arum?”

He frowns, but he looks aside and reaches an arm to allow her to help pull him up to standing. It’s still a little odd, looking up at him after spending so long with him in that bed, where he has to peer up at her. He still leans on her, just a little, though. Just a very little. Just enough that he could deny it, if asked. His body beside her own is heavy, slightly cool, fascinatingly textured, as always. She does her best not to think about that.

Damien watches them exit Arum's room with guarded eyes, but he does not mention their proximity, nor does he comment on it when Rilla helps Arum settle himself on one of the cushions around the table. After a quiet moment, while Rilla takes her own seat between them, Damien takes the pitcher of water, and he fills three glasses.

"What…" Arum pushes a small stack of books aside after dinner, pulling one thin volume out from beneath the rest, and his eyes are narrowed and confused when Rilla glances his way. "What is this?"

Ah. Damn. Rilla absolutely hadn't meant to leave that out- she must have slipped it in with the wrong pile before she put her dads' books back under the floorboards. "Oh," she says, trying to sound casual. Damien is looking at the book too, now, which isn't exactly great. "Uh. I'm not sure. I haven't been able to translate it properly, so I only kind of have an idea what's in there."

Arum frowns, something that isn't quite suspicion crossing his face. "… is this why you asked me about monster languages, before?"

Rilla blinks. "What? No, I just wanted to make sure I wasn't gonna bring you a stack of books you couldn't even read."

Arum seems satisfied enough with that answer, but still he turns the slim book in his hands, eying the cover. "Hm. This is simply a coincidental curiosity, then?"

"It- I couldn't find you in my bestiaries, so I wound up pulling out… well-"

"You kept your fathers' books?" Damien asks softly, and she doesn't look at him, trying hard not to wince. "I thought their more…" he coughs, "questionable possessions were- were confiscated."

"Most of them were," Rilla says, her tone going bitter. "Not all. I kept what I could."

"You were looking for me?" Arum says, an eyebrow raising.

"Well-" Rilla glances between the pair of them. "Yeah. I figured that if I could find out exactly what you were it would help me figure out how to treat you more effectively. No such luck, by the way."

Oddly, Arum smiles at that, something smug in the expression as he flips through the pages, his scales making a whispery noise against the paper. "It seems you managed my treatment quite skillfully, regardless, Amaryllis."

Damien narrows his eyes, as if he's trying to find a way to make that sentence fit as a dig instead of a compliment, and then he shakes his head and refocuses on Rilla.

"Why did you not tell me?"

"It- I mean, when we started seeing each other it wasn't like-" her eyes flick around the hut, noting uncomfortably the way that Arum is watching her too. "You're a knight, Damien, I didn't know when I met you that you wouldn't get me in worse trouble for-"

"Oh, my darling flower-"

"It wasn't like I lied, Damien, I just- I didn't know how to bring it up. I-" she pauses, and tries a vague sort of smile. "It just kind of got to the point where I hadn't talked about it for so long, you know? Got to a point where it seemed- like it'd been too long already, and I couldn't change my mind about it."

Damien sighs deeply, reaching a hand out to cup her cheek. "Oh, Rilla… I am sorry you felt that there was anything you could not share wi-"

"I could translate this for you," Arum interrupts, and the both of them turn towards him. He isn't looking at them in return, his eyes firmly on the book as his tail coils tightly around an ankle. "The dialect is somewhat more eastern than I am entirely used to, but the bones of the language seem familiar enough. I suppose you already inferred from the illustrations and the size that it is a rather limited botanical census."

"Yeah," Rilla says, her voice bright with surprise. "Yeah, that's exactly what I was hoping." She pauses. "You'd really be willing to do that?"

"It's a book of herbs, Amaryllis. You can hardly do any harm with it." He glances towards her, his eyes guarded, and then he looks to the book again. "Seems a small sort of service I can easily provide. It shall not even begin to edge the scales between us towards even, I should think," he mutters, and then before she can respond to that, he points to one of the entries in the middle. "We can start here. I do not suppose you are familiar with this herb at all. It grows in a rather small range, quite a ways to the East."

Rilla doesn't want to let him deflect from the fact that he apparently sees her treatment of him as transactional, but she doesn't want to have that sort of conversation with Damien a foot away, either. She's already had one awkward conversation in front of someone who probably didn't want to be there, tonight. "Yeah, that would be- incredible, actually. Just let me grab the notes I already made, and-" she stands, and she tries not to look too uncomfortable or too eager as she goes to pull up the false floorboard in her bedroom to fetch the right journal. "Okay," she says as she returns, shuffling through the pages, "so I managed to work out the numeral system, I think, if you want to just check my work there before we dig into the conte-"

"Knock knock. "

The voice comes simultaneous with an accompanying actual knock, on the doorframe and not the actual door from the sound of it, and Rilla flinches hard enough that she drops the book in her hand to thwump to the floor. Damien rolls from his seated position to snatch it before she can, his own expression openly concerned, and Arum's frill is pressed tightly to his neck as he eyes the door in alarm, his tail coiling and then curling around his own ankle.

Rilla pats a hand in the air, a gesture for quiet, and no one moves for a long moment as she waits for whoever the hell to take the hint. It's late, even on a day when she was open she'd be unlikely to come to the door at this hour.

"Knock, uh, knock?" the voice comes again. "C'mon, Rilla, your favorite guest is here! I know you're home, there's smoke coming from the chimney-"

"Marc. Shit," Rilla scrambles, reaching to help Arum pull himself to his feet as she calls, "we're closed, come back- come back later. Tomorrow! Come back tomorrow!"

"Marc," Damien mutters, clutching the book to his chest with a scowl.

"C'mon, Rilla. I know you've got a minute for your best friend," Marc calls through the door. "Can you open up?"

"Dammit," Rilla hisses, and Arum chokes down a very nervous sort of laugh as Rilla presses a hand against his shoulder, making sure he's standing stable. "Marc, I really can't hang out with you right now! I'm- I'm right in the middle of-"

"I, uh, really, really can't, Rilla. Can you-" he pauses, and she can hear Dampierre's hooves shifting against the dirt. "Can you please open up? I… uh…"

Rilla stiffens, grits her teeth, and sighs. "You're… out of medicine."

There is a pause.

"I'm out of medicine," Marc confirms in a quick mutter. "But! But only just barely, Rilla, like, less than five minutes ago barely!"

"Marc!" Rilla complains, and then she stops herself to take a deep breath. She can handle this. She just- has to make up enough for the day, and then- then she can get him out of her hair for long enough to make a proper batch he can pick up tomorrow. She frowns at Arum, and then at Damien, and then she calls out, "Two minutes, Marc. Give me two minutes, alright?"

Marc gives some sort of relieved confirmation, but Rilla isn't really paying attention anymore as she walks Arum partway across the room, and then she passes the monster into Damien's arms as the knight splutters, his cheeks going dark as Arum hisses in alarm.

"Shush," she says with a scowl. "Damien, just walk him to his bed. Please? He can't be in here, we can't risk him being seen and I just- have to get Marc out of here."

"But," Damien squeaks, "but Rilla, I-"

Damien doesn't strain under Arum's weight, he's perfectly capable of supporting the monster, but he leans away awkwardly, leaving Arum to grit his teeth and sway in a way that makes Rilla instantly nervous. Her scowl deepens and she steps closer again to push Arum more securely into Damien's grip as each of them makes another quiet, indignant noise. "Into Arum's room, Damien, now. If you drop him I will be furious with you. No time to argue. Just do it."

Damien swallows, then meets Arum's eyes for only a moment before his cheeks darken further and he looks sharply away. He nods, though, and shuffles Arum into his room, the both of them wincing through the movement as Rilla marches in the other direction to throw the front door open and glower up at Marc as he raises an eyebrow at her.

"Is there- uh. D'you have company over, Rilla? Because you could have just said- "

"Marc? Please shut up," she says, already turning back and marching to start throwing together ingredients, her hands moving quickly over bottles and jars. "You know I'm busy, and if you and Tal want to stop by with no warning then you don't get to complain that I'm not ready to jump up and help!"

"Well I mean- it's just me, this time."

He sounds sheepish, and Rilla glances over her shoulder in surprise. "Wh- huh. Where's Tal, then?"

"Doing something dumb somewhere dumber," Marc scowls.

"Marc." Rilla turns away again, snatching up ingredients as she goes. "Come on."

"He stayed behind to take a job, and- if he just stayed with me we wouldn't have gotten lost and we definitely would have gotten here a lot sooner!"

"Sure," she says. "Whatever." Rilla can't actually decide if it would have been better or worse if the pair of them had visited a week or so ago. Might have been awkward for the boys to come knocking when Arum was collapsed by her front door, at the very least. Her lip pulls into a frown and she refocuses, rattling off the list of components as she mixes them together, but when she reaches for the last of the bunch-

She pulls down an empty jar. And then a second empty jar.

"Oh, come on. Really?"

"Uh, what's up?"

"The Numb-Cap. I'm out," Rilla groans, dropping her head to thunk off of the cabinet in front of her. "I used all of it because I had to make up so many batches of painkiller for-"

She pauses.

"For?" Marc calls warily, and Rilla grits her teeth.

"Another patient, Marc, because you're not the only person relying on me!"

"Well, I mean, uh. If you made up so much of it-"

"I made so much because I needed it, Marc! And even if I hadn't used it up, it's not even the same recipe as your pills. Which means- " she cuts off into an exasperated exhale, smacking her palms on the counter.

"Which means- what?"

"I need to go get more Numb-Cap. Now . And leave-"

She cuts herself off again.

"Well- I mean, if you're too busy to leave I can run off and collect the dumb mushrooms myself, right? I'll just grab a few and come back and-"

"There is no way I would trust mushroom identification to any untrained non-mycologist in the middle of the night, let alone you, Marc," she growls, marching towards the door and grabbing her boots. "You wanna have actual effective medicine, or d'you wanna wake up in a week with no clothes and no idea where you've been? Or, more likely, just choke to death on some fun magic poison?"

"Well, that first one doesn't sound so bad-"

"Marc." Rilla grips the doorframe tight. "This is, and I need you to understand this, wildly inconvenient for me right now, but I'm going to go out into the jungle with you, collect some stupid mushrooms in the dark, and come back to make more medicine for you. But first you gotta just- chill out here for a minute while I t- while I grab my stuff. Okay?"

"Yeah," Marc says, sounding just barely chastised enough as Dampierre whickers and stamps beneath him. "Uh. Yeah, Rilla, okay."

She sighs, then presses the door firmly closed so she can gather herself for a moment before she darts to the exam room. Arum is sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the door as she enters, and Damien is carefully placed at the opposite end of the room leaning against a counter until he sees her enter, at which point he straightens up again.

"You're leaving? " Arum asks before she can say a word, and Damien stumbles as he crosses the room.

"What?!"

"That is what she just told the loud one at the door," he growls, gesturing towards her with narrowed eyes.

"Rilla you can't possibly-"

"I really can possibly, Damien," she says, grabbing a pair of work gloves from the counter and then coming close enough to grab Damien's hands tight. "Marc needs that medicine and it won't work without the ingredient I'm missing. It'll probably only be a few hours, I know where they usually grow, but it's a bit of a walk."

"But Rilla, surely- if you are venturing into the jungle then I must accompany-"

"I'll be fine, Damien, Marc and I can handle anything that happens. And I-" she squeezes his hands, winces. "I need you here a lot more."

"Here? But-" he looks towards Arum, and then they both look away.

"You realize that I do not require moment-by-moment babysitting, Amaryllis," Arum snarls.

"Precisely, and I-"

"Damien, I really don't want to have to deal with you and Marc fighting while I'm already stressed out about making sure he gets his next pill before his last one wears off," she admits in a rush, and Damien winces. "Please, please just stay here, don't fight for like, just a few hours, I promise, and- and everything will be fine. Just keep an eye on the stew and bring him a bowl when it's done, okay? That's your one job. Just that, and not fighting. And preferably not freaking out, either. Can you do that for me, Damien? Please?"

He wilts, just a little, his eyes going soft and his hands pulling her close enough that he can press a kiss to her temple. "Of course. Of course I can. Such small favors you ask of me, my love," he says, very lightly, and she laughs. "Of course. I should be used to the urgency with which your brilliance is needed, by now."

She breathes a laugh, then kisses his cheek before she pulls back from his hands, eying Arum (his own eyes carefully turned away from the both of them again). "You too, okay?"

"Me too, what, precisely?" he mutters. "I will not be going anywhere, and so long as the little songbird does not shoot me I cannot imagine I would have any way of coming to harm."

Damien scowls, but Rilla steps a bit closer to the monster, reaching out to tap the tip of his snout lightly, making him blink and hiss lightly in response.

"A couple hours. Just be nice, for Saints' sake. Or-" she laughs. "For my sake, at least."

Arum frowns (or pouts, more accurately), but something about the way his lip twitches makes her think he's trying to clamp down on a smile, and that makes her feel a little better about this whole thing when she returns to the door.

"Don't have too much fun without me," she says, and as they both splutter she closes the door behind her.

[->]

#elle's fanfic #scattered on my shore #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #amaryllis of exile #lord arum #sir damien #[other character tag redacted]

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writeanapocalae · 4 years

Text

Alii Inspiriti

Read on Ao3 | Inspired by Art

Warnings for canon typical violence and robotic gore

It was supposed to be easy, but that was always how it was when something went wrong, wasn't it? It was supposed to be easy. These guys had been killing androids, mutilating them beyond recognition. It took techs to dig around in the remains to find out their model numbers. From the data they were able to pull out of the androids memory banks, they could assume that most of the damage occurred before death but all the memory was corrupted to the point that it was unusable. It wasn't hard to find out who it was.

Mark and David Emery. They had gotten in trouble a few times over the years for damage to property and then assault when the terminology changed. They'd never done anything like this before. Gavin and Nines could handle them without much of an issue. Two on two and one of them an android. It would be easy.

They hadn't expected that the Emery's would be working with an android, that they would be waiting and ready, that they knew how to take Nines down.

Nines had fallen with a heavier thump than his weight should have been able to make, his entire body stiff and useless. Gavin didn't have time to turn, to shout, before their android was upon him, a box cutter in hand. He had a gun, he should have been able to fight back, to do something, but the android was fast and far too close. He was too jammed to properly aim. He was too terrified to even think of his gun.

The Emery's grabbed Nines and booked it while Gavin had to deal with the remains of the android they had sicced on him. It's face had been roughly cut around the edges, all of the plastic cut off and it was all exposed wiring and teeth and moving parts. One of its arms had been degloved and he was certain its chest had had similar treatment. The body was completely androgynous, anything that could reveal gender or android type having been cut away.

It sliced into him. The knife was sharp, blessedly so, so that the cuts didn't hurt too much, the gashes against his face would heal. He had to dodge and swerve, take the razor to his cheek in order to prevent it from entering his eye. A solid elbow to the nose knocked him back, his sinuses clear in agonizing emptiness as blood gushed from his nostrils. It gave him a moment to fall back, to stagger away, and he had space. He had enough space.

He shot the android through the thirium pump. Something in him felt strange, felt wrong, as it fell to the ground. He'd never killed a human being, in all his years in the surface, but part of him, felt that strange cold trauma settle deep in his chest. It hadn't wanted this, he was sure of that, some frazzled and fractured programming from some sick fucks.

He didn't have time to mourn though, didn't have time for empathy. He bottled it up, shoved it deep down into himself. They had taken Nines and he didn't know where they had gone with him.

They were at the waterfront, a bunch of large garages for boat repairs and storage lining the pier. This was where their investigation had taken them, little bits and pieces of images, but nothing telling enough that they knew which of the many units the Emery's were working out of. They weren't even on the rental registry.

Which meant he had to try all of them, starting at the ones closest, keeping on the alert, trying to hear Nines if he could say something, say anything. He wiped at his nose. He called for back up. He did the sort of thing that Nines would do. He ignored how his cheeks burned as his tears fell into his cuts. They were all starting to get agitated, started to feel now that the adrenaline of the fight was fading and the air was mixing with the narrow gashes.

With the aid of a few more officers they were able to find the right unit. It took almost three hours to find him, having to pick too many locks and waste time searching through dark garages, hunting through boats of various sizes to see if there was a place to stash an android of Nines' size. They were going to have to fill in a lot of paperwork, for so many searches without warrants, but this was due cause. Gavin was shaking and breathing harshly, his heart rate spiking, he didn't care about paperwork right then.

The garage that they found Nines in had cold blue lighting, making the air seem colder than it was, all of it coming from small LED lanterns that were hanging from hooks around the walls. There was no boat in here, though there were a few crates and a lot of tables, all covered in tools and puddles of what Gavin hoped was water. He was certain it was actually thirium, but that the parts that made it thirium had evaporated, leaving something unimportant behind.

In the back there was a large boarded up wall, more hooks, curved and wicked, poking through. There were parts on there, clothes and limbs and wires and tubing, still stuck to hooks. There was also a torso, or most of one, one arm stretched out and pierced through on a thick peg, the other hanging down uselessly. Also useless, was the head, hanging down, the LED slowly fading in and out a blood red.

It was the evidence room. Gavin remembered being there, seeing the parts of that PL600 shoved against the wall like some trophy next to the corpse of a Traci. They could still be accessed, still reacted to stimuli, but there was nothing to them anymore. It was fine at the time, was just storage for pieces, but now, Gavin vomited on the floor and hated himself for it. Hated himself for wasting time.

Nines didn't even react as he drew closer, eyes closed. He looked dead. If it weren't for the slow way that the LED pulsed, he would have though that those three hours were far too long. They were but Nines was still alive, at least.

There was movement, a shout, and Gavin had his gun up, spinning to see Officer Clark get barreled over by Mark Emery. The rest of the officers were in chaos, not firing but shouting orders, as David jumped out from among the crates and bolted for the door.

"Go get those guys!" Gavin shouted at them, seeing how Mark followed his brother out the door and turned down the pier. "I've got this!"

He watched them all run off, all leave him alone with Nines. There was no one else to save. Just the one android. Gavin turned back to him. Thirium was dripping out of him but it wasn't that fast. There may not have been much left. His nose had been bloodied as much as Gavin's but he had no way to wip it so the thirium had gone down his cracked and split lips to drip from his chin. There were cuts on his cheek and jaw, even one on his ear, and the arm that was hanging weakly at his side still had a screwdriver shoved deep into it.

"Nines?" Gavin asked, voice quiet, hoping that he was soothing, that he was getting through somehow. "Hey, dipshit, you in there?"

Nines answered with a long stuttering whir. It wasn't a sound Gavin had ever heard before. It wasn't a sound he ever wanted to hear again.

"Don't worry," he prompted, gripping the screwdriver by the hilt. "I'm here. I got you. There's a whole team of techs on their way."

He wrenched the screwdriver out of Nines arm and Nines sputtered, back arching and one eye glitchingly opening, the eyelid stammering as he tried to scream at the pain Gavin had caused him. All that came out was a breathy rattle. Then Nines fell back to his original position, thirium pouring down his once white sleeve.

"Shh," Gavin urged, rubbing the back of his knuckles against Nines' cheek. "Shh, it's okay. It's okay. It's almost over."

"Thirium levels at 28% and dropping," Nines stated in a colder and more clinical tone than he'd used in months, like he was nothing more than a computer. "12 minutes until shut down. 1.4% chance of survival."

"Not true," Gavin growled, grabbing Nines by the jaw and turning him. One of Nines eyes was completely blue from thirium, the lighter blue iris seeming to glow blindly because of the contrast. The other searched his face for a moment before shutting once more. "Nines. The techs are going to be here in five minutes, tops. You're going to be alright, alright?"

"14.7% chance of survival," Nines recalculated.

"100% chance of survival!" Gavin argued.

Nines hand twitched but his arm was too damaged for him to lift it. Gavin removed a hand from his jaw to grab it, to bring that hand up and Nines just threaded their fingers together, humming in a low rumble in his throat, like an overworked fan.

"Even if I were to survive I would be obsolete. Too damaged to function."

"Don't care," Gavin argued, staring at how Nines' fingers were interlaced with his. He'd wanted, for so long, to reach across and grab Nines' hand. He'd wanted for so long to be able to touch Nines, to talk himself through his emotions, to be honest for once in his life. "I don't care. As long as you're alive and with me I'm happy."

"My legs are gone," Nines reminded him, as if he needed the reminder.

"We'll find them. You'll see. You'll be good as new you plastic prick."

Nines closed his eyes and this time it felt like there was a terrible sense of acceptance in it. Gavin didn't accept. He gripped tighter, leaned his forehead against his partner's breathed in shaky breath after shaky breath.

"Don't you phcking leave me alone you piece of shit."

#detroit become human #my writing #reed900 #gavin reed #rk900 #fanfiction

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taylorscottbarnett · 4 years

Link

“10 ominous and risky trend”

Nah. First you only list nine. One is basically listed twice.

Ok so this is my issue with this analysis, we have the attention grabber: “Called the 2008 Crash” however some form of recession usually hits every decade or so. Let us take a look at the predictions that didn’t pan out (and still haven't):

He predicted that foreign investors would stop financing the fiscal and current-account deficit and abandon the dollar, wreaking havoc on the economy. He said that these problems, which he called the “twin financial train wrecks,” might manifest themselves in 2005 or, at the latest, 2006. “You have been warned here first,” he wrote ominously on his blog. But by the end of 2006, the train wrecks hadn’t occurred.

Note, the economy may have crashed, but it had zero to do with foreign investors not financing debt. Throughout the economic crisis and the decade that followed, countries bought up US Debt like it was hand sanitizer and paper towels at the start of the COVID crisis. The world has also weathered the Greek debt crisis as well as the Italy’s issues, and Brexit with not much crisis to show for it, and what did happen was mostly temporary for the world economy. People have been issuing warnings about the aging crisis for decades, but it is not as hard to solve (for the US) as people assume. Yes social security, and medicare taxes and increasing intensives for companies and people to invest in saving for the future need to be increased. However, America’s aging workforce has two silver bullets: One, automation. In some estimates nearly have of all jobs can be automated in the next decade -- while that has it’s own set of issues, a worker shortage isn’t one of them. Secondly, as I’ve stated before, immigration reform would go a long way towards shoring up the US’ older workforce. The later comes with new workers contributing social security and medicare taxes to public coffers. The former can be taxed the same, just with new tax systems.

Let’s take a look at some of the issues he has declared the reason we are all doomed:

A third issue is the growing risk of deflation. In addition to causing a deep recession, the crisis is also creating a massive slack in goods (unused machines and capacity) and labour markets (mass unemployment), as well as driving a price collapse in commodities such as oil and industrial metals. That makes debt deflation likely, increasing the risk of insolvency.

Hey look while Republicans supposedly feared inflation when we were fighting the 2007-2008 financial crisis (one that I’ll remind you never occurred) and economists stated wouldn’t occur. Paul Krugman spent years warning about over-hyped inflation worries by policy makers.:

Recently the Federal Reserve released transcripts of its monetary policy meetings during the fateful year of 2008. And boy, are they discouraging reading. ... The economy was plunging, yet all many people at the Fed wanted to talk about was inflation. ...

As I suggested, we used to marvel at the wrongheadedness of policy makers during the Great Depression. But when the Great Recession struck, and we were given a chance to do better, we ended up repeating all the same mistakes.

But Republicans were up in arms, warning that the Fed’s policies would lead to runaway inflation. A Congressman named Mike Pence introduced a bill that would prohibit the Fed from even considering the state of the labor market in its actions. A who’s who of Republicans signed an open letter to Ben Bernanke demanding that he stop his monetary efforts, which they claimed would “risk currency debasement and inflation.”

Bernanke, Fed economists, and Keynesians in general were proved right: printing money isn’t inflationary in a depressed economy.

Needless to say, those warnings proved totally wrong. Soaring inflation never materialized. Job creation was sluggish at first, but more recently has accelerated dramatically.

K so let us move on to other issues shall we?

A fifth issue is the broader digital disruption of the economy. With millions of people losing their jobs or working and earning less, the income and wealth gaps of the 21st-century economy will widen further. To guard against future supply-chain shocks, companies in advanced economies will re-shore production from low-cost regions to higher-cost domestic markets. But rather than helping workers at home, this trend will accelerate the pace of automation, putting downward pressure on wages and further fanning the flames of populism, nationalism, and xenophobia.

Again, Automation is inevitable, and as I said earlier, a benefit and solution to an ageing workforce. One should also note this crisis has also been talked about for decades. It still never happened. Although many jobs have been automated, more jobs tend to come in and take the place of those lost jobs. Sectors of the economy die all the time. They get replaced. Automation isn’t going to necessarily be the death of the American worker -- if anything working less wouldn’t hurt us. There is a valid argument if you look at many of our peers, the American worker is overworked already.

This points to the sixth major factor: deglobalisation. The pandemic is accelerating trends toward balkanisation and fragmentation that were already well underway. The US and China will decouple faster, and most countries will respond by adopting still more protectionist policies to shield domestic firms and workers from global disruptions. The post-pandemic world will be marked by tighter restrictions on the movement of goods, services, capital, labour, technology, data, and information. This is already happening in the pharmaceutical, medical-equipment, and food sectors, where governments are imposing export restrictions and other protectionist measures in response to the crisis.

True, at the moment populism has had a nice multi-year run. de-globalization has been a goal of Donald Trump for his entire presidency. Trump will not be president forever. As our current COVID crisis has illustrated, he really is a carnival barker, and if anything has increased the odds of Biden becoming president and they were already pretty damn likely.

Under conditions of heightened economic insecurity, there will be a strong impulse to scapegoat foreigners for the crisis. Blue-collar workers and broad cohorts of the middle class will become more susceptible to populist rhetoric, particularly proposals to restrict migration and trade.

Again, this already happened with the election of Donald Trump. But take a look at just how close many of those state elections came: Michigan, Wisconsin, Florida and Pennsylvania -- A flu (and this would have been an illness far less destructive than COVID) could have affected the outcomes of those states -- and the election. A few thousand votes in a country that cast 138,884,643 ballots and had another 92,671,979 that could have voted but didn't won Trump the election.

This points to an eighth factor: the geostrategic standoff between the US and China. With the Trump administration making every effort to blame China for the pandemic, Chinese President Xi Jinping’s regime will double down on its claim that the US is conspiring to prevent China’s peaceful rise. The Sino-American decoupling in trade, technology, investment, data, and monetary arrangements will intensify.

Re-read my above two responses.

A final risk that cannot be ignored is environmental disruption, which, as the Covid-19 crisis has shown, can wreak far more economic havoc than a financial crisis. Recurring epidemics (HIV since the 1980s, Sars in 2003, H1N1 in 2009, Mers in 2011, Ebola in 2014-16) are, like climate change, essentially manmade disasters, born of poor health and sanitary standards, the abuse of natural systems, and the growing interconnectivity of a globalised world. Pandemics and the many morbid symptoms of climate change will become more frequent, severe, and costly in the years ahead.

Arguably COVID closings around the world and shelter-at-home orders have if anything given the world a chance to take a breath. Also if you are arguing a globalized world is a direct reason a pandemic like this will “become more frequent, severe, and costly” then wouldn’t it stand to reason de-globalization (that you claim will happen as a result of this pandemic) would make these event’s less likely to happen in the future? Which is it? It cannot be both.

Also am I missing something or do I not find a “seventh factor” in your post at all?

#the economy #recession #coronavirus #markets #politics

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anxceit · 5 years

Text

fallacy

Summary: Logan tests a theory, breaks some rules, and makes Deceit very, very upset, all at the same time. Spectacular science, that. Looks like Patton has some parenting to do. Sequel to forgery.

Pairings: Platonic Loceit (ish), Logicality, Moceit

Word Count: 2943

Warnings: Self-esteem issues, attempted self-harm (not graphic/no physical harm actually comes to the character in question), dehumanization, panic attack, yelling. Sympathetic Deceit.

A/N: This is a heavy one, sorry. Also, Deceit is somehow sadder in this fic than he was in the one that featured him? No named OC Sides despite initial appearance, etc.

Experiment Log, 9/4/201X

This experiment aims to investigate the lasting changes which Anxiety’s room is capable of inflicting on the other Sides, and the possible benefits of these changes. The experiment will be conducted by Thomas’ Logic, with no assistants. Test subject for final experimentation will be Thomas’ Curiosity.

Logan is laying out the framework for his experiments at the kitchen table when Deceit wanders in, headed towards the fridge. Logan watches him intently as he reaches inside and grabs...a jar of Crofter’s.

Disappointing. It seems twenty years of age introduced more variables than Logan expected. If he wants to make judgements on the depth of the effects of Virgil’s room on Deceit’s personality and tastes, it seems he’ll require many more observations.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Deceit deadpans. Logan jumps. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring that long.

He pauses for a moment to process Deceit’s words. “...Can I, actually?” Deceit stares at him like he’s grown a second head. “For my records,” he explains.

Deceit scoffs and turns on his heel, stalking out of the room. Logan allows himself to pout for just a moment before returning to his work.

Experiment Log, 9/13/201X

I’ll have to be more direct with my preliminary data collection. Simply observing Deceit’s behavior is inefficient. I’m going to see if he’ll agree to an interview.

“So is that little notebook of yours going to explain to me why I agreed to this?” Deceit grumbles, resting his head on one hand.

“Presumably, you should be aware of that before starting the interview,” Logan replies, brow furrowed. He finds the proper page in his notebook and sets it in front of him, pens of two different colors lined up neatly beside it. “Are you not?”

Deceit rolls his eyes. “I have better things to be doing, so hurry up and ask what you want to ask.”

Logan nods. “Of course.” He scans his sheet of prepared questions. “I asked you many of these questions when the...change first occurred, but now that you have adopted a more consistent method of communication, I feel the answers may be clearer. Firstly, were you aware of the effects of Anxiety’s room as they were occurring?”

Deceit sinks low in his chair, thinking. “Well, you know, it was so recent and all, so I remember it perfectly.”

“It’s alright if you don’t remember. Just answer as best you can.”

Deceit sighs, crossing his arms over his stomach in what Logan registers as a self-soothing gesture. “I was awake the whole time, of course, so it hurt terribly. I was surprised you all didn’t hear me screaming.”

“You were asleep?” Logan confirms. That tracks: Roman claims he was unconscious when Virgil brought him in for help. He hums. “Alright. Does it hurt now?”

Deceit’s lips press into a thin line. “Pass.” Logan’s grip tightens marginally on his pen, but he ignores it. He’s lucky Deceit agreed to this at all. He won’t push his luck by forcing him into questions he doesn’t want to answer.

The interview continues thusly for quite some time, and while Logan doesn’t learn as much as he’d hoped (there are a couple of questions that cause Deceit to nearly flee the room entirely), he’s able to gain a solid chunk of background data. They finally stop only when Patton interrupts them.

“What are you two kiddos up to?” he chirps, leaning in the doorway.

“Charades,” Deceit answers dryly, giving Logan enough time to slip his notebook out of sight.

“Ooh, sounds like fun! Let me join in next time!”

“I’m...not sure this is a game you would be interested in, Patton,” Logan says stiffly. “I’m sorry.”

“Aww, that’s okay!” Patton waves a hand. “Dinner’s almost ready, if you two want to come join us.”

“There are laws against cruel and unusual punishment, you know,” Deceit informs him, but stands to follow him out. Patton giggles and waves to Logan as he leaves.

Logan watches as Deceit pauses in his doorway. Without turning around, he asks, “Logan, may I ask you one thing?”

“Yes...?”

“Why did you change your aspect?”

Logan freezes. The others have all long since agreed not to bring that up – they all know how uncomfortable it makes him. He wonders if Deceit is doing it on purpose, how much he truly lost in the shift from Kindness to lies.

“I...a lot of things changed when Thomas lost his compassion. I simply filled in where I was most needed.” It’s a lie of omission, but if Deceit catches it, he doesn’t say anything. He simply hums noncommittally and walks out, leaving Logan to his work once more.

Experiment Log, 9/20/201X

The others have planned a picnic in the Imagination tomorrow. I have previously informed them that I will be regretfully absent. Their combined absence provides the perfect conditions to perform my experiment without interruptions.

I only have one chance. I need to control as many variables as I possibly can.

When Logan is certain the others have long since left, he slips into Anxiety’s room. If all goes according to plan, he’ll be in and out before Virgil returns, and no one will be any the wiser.

It really is quite dark.

Logan trails a hand across Virgil’s dresser. Should he try reading in the meantime? Judging from past experience, he’s not sure how long he’ll be able to concentrate.

His hand brushes up against something furry, and he flinches. Upon closer inspection, it’s just a stuffed toy. Probably from Patton. Logan takes a deep breath in through his nose and breathes out slowly. This is ridiculous. He just needs to sit down somewhere and wait.

The door cracks open behind him, light spilling into the room, and he flinches and whirls around with excuses at the ready. Deceit doesn’t even grant him the time to defend himself before slamming him unceremoniously into the wall. “What in the hell are you doing?” he snarls.

Logan swallows. Deceit is terribly imposing in the dark. “I...I explained this to you before, I think. Thomas, he doesn’t need...he needs logic that can be completely impartial, not...”

Deceit’s eyes narrow. “And so you thought the best solution was to put more blood on Virgil’s hands?”

“That’s...”

Deceit cuts him off, laughing almost desperately. “Tell me, all of that asking me about my experiences, trying to understand me, was all of that a lie? Am I...am I just a fucking experiment to you?”

Logan wants to deny it, but a small and insistent part of him knows that Deceit is right. A knot ties itself in his chest, thick and painful.

“Do you want to know what it feels like? Is that what you want?” Deceit hisses, face inches from Logan’s. Logan imagines he can see his scales flickering, smoothing, turning into shadow-darkened skin once more. “You really just can’t let anything go unsolved, can you, Curiosity?”

Logan feels his face burn.

“I’ll tell you what it feels like,” Deceit continues. “It feels like swallowing fire. It feels like you’re suffocating, and your chest is burning up from the inside, and the only way to make it go away is to turn against everything you thought you knew about yourself.” His grip on Logan’s wrists tightens. “So you do it, because otherwise you’ll die! And everyone hates you for it, and they throw you away. And you know what the worst part is? You hate yourself for it too, even though there’s nothing you can do!”

Voice shaking, Logan murmurs, “Is...this all the truth?”

Deceit chokes out a laugh. “Does it matter?” he asks. “You won’t listen to me anyway. None of you ever listen to me.”

Logan opens his mouth to respond, but feels the words vanish in his throat. “I...”

Deceit slumps, the fight leaving him all at once, and he releases Logan’s arm. “Do what you want,” he mutters, “I don’t care anymore.” He turns and stalks out, leaving Logan behind.

Logan’s knees give out from under him and he sinks to a sitting position, back braced against the wall. Deceit’s words repeat over and over in his head until he can’t breathe with the weight of them.

Distantly, he registers that he’s having a panic attack. His legs are locked under him when he tries to move, and he chokes on air as he falls over.

It’s too much.

He can’t do this.

He sinks out of Anxiety’s room into his own and stumbles to his desk. He has just enough time to take a note of his results before blacking out.

Experiment Log, 9/21/201X

[EDIT 12/15/201X: Almost all of this entry is illegible and thus unusable. I have salvaged as much as possible, but it is admittedly very little. However, qualitative data can still be drawn from the nature of this entry, namely hints as to the mental state induced by Anxiety’s room.]

CAUGHT

FAILURE

STOP

Roman leads Patton and Virgil up a wide hill path, flourishing with wildflowers. Patton hums as he walks, swinging the picnic basket back and forth. Virgil notices this and gently tugs the basket away in an effort to save the food, and Patton lets it go with a sheepish smile.

“How much farther?” Virgil asks. “Not that I don’t appreciate, y’know, the scenery and stuff, but I’m getting hungry.”

Roman turns with a flourish, smiling wider. “Fear not, O Darkest of Knights! We have but a few more feet to climb!”

Virgil leans over to whisper to Patton, “And here I thought he couldn’t get any more dramatic than he already is.”

Patton giggles. “Isn’t he adorable?”

“Not the word I’d use, but whatever you say.”

They teach the top of the hill, a wide flat area covered in flowers. On a clear and sunny day like today, they can see the landscape around them for miles in every direction. Patton gasps and runs forward to look as Roman and Virgil begin to set out the picnic.

Patton rejoins them as they unpack their lunch on the spread-out rainbow blanket. “It’s so pretty!” he cries. “Virgil, did you see?”

“I did see it,” Virgil confirms. “The stargazing must be incredible.”

Roman’s face lights up at the praise. “Of course it is! I’ll have to show you sometime.”

Patton frowns suddenly and plops down on the blanket. “I wish Logan came.”

“Well, we all know the saying about horses and water,” Roman replies, ignoring Virgil’s warning look.

Patton blinks up at him. “You can lead a horse to water but you can’t look it in the mouth?”

Virgil nods rapidly. “Yep, got it in one.”

Roman stares at him. Virgil glares back.

“What does that have to do with Logan, though?” Patton asks, oblivious.

Roman reels for an explanation under Virgil’s gaze. “Well, it’s—it’s like—we can ask him to things as much as we want, but—he—there’s no guarantee he’ll be honest about what he wants…?”

“Ohhh.” Patton nods, mulling that over. Virgil nods sharply and turns his gaze off Roman. Roman sighs in relief.

Patton takes a pensive bite of his sandwich. “Maybe I should make a list of things he likes to do… He’s been so quiet lately.”

“Jumpier than me,” Virgil agrees, “and that’s saying something.”

“Wonder why,” Deceit adds casually.

Virgil yelps and falls backwards at his sudden appearance. Roman jumps to his feet, abandoning his lunch to pull out his katana.

“I don’t remember inviting a slimy snake to the party,” he snarls.

“Oh, don’t worry, you absolutely did,” Deceit assures him cheerfully. “I just had other things to attend to. Patton, may I borrow you for a minute?”

Patton tilts his head all the way back to look up at Deceit. “What’s up?”

“It’s…” Deceit trails off, looking at Roman and Virgil. “Not something I trust either of these two with. If you don’t terribly mind?” He extends his hand.

“Wh…we’re in the middle of something, you know.” Virgil glares at him. “Can’t it wait?”

Patton studies Deceit’s face, and his expression shifts. “I’ll just be a minute,” he assures them. “Go ahead and keep eating.” He shoves the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and grabs Deceit’s hand. Deceit pulls him to a standing position and they both vanish.

Reviewer’s Comments, 9/21/201X

this was a creative theory! however, not only is your methodology extremely flawed, but this experiment completely violates scientific ethics! it is this reviewer’s firm opinion that this paper requires complete revision before it can be published!

[Response From Author, 12/15/201X

Your comments are appreciated, and I will certainly take them into consideration, but turquoise glitter pen is not appropriate for an official experiment log. Neither is signing your messages with a doodle of a dog, for that matter.]

Logan comes into awareness with a pounding headache, only slightly mollified by the cool darkness of his room. He’s lying on top of his covers(?), although he doesn’t remember going to bed in the first place. Someone is sitting next to him, running their fingers through his hair while humming tunelessly.

“Patton?” Logan rasps, trying to sit up. Oh, his throat is terribly sore. Yet another mystery to add to the list.

Patton lightly pushes him back down. “Don’t push yourself, Lo. There’s no rush.” His voice is calm and reassuring. When Logan looks up at him, the tear tracks on his face are reflecting the dim light of the desk lamp. “You really roughed yourself up good, huh, bud?” he teases, but there’s barely any humor in his voice.

Logan suddenly jerks up – away from Patton’s hands, his eyes, his smile – and immediately regrets it as his migraine sets the room spinning. He slumps forward and Patton catches him, helping him stay upright. Logan hates this. “I-I can explain...!”

“Okay,” Patton says. He seems almost...resigned. He keeps looking at Logan with that expression, like he’s disappointed, and whatever contingency plans Logan had prepared for this moment crumble into dust.

Instead what comes out is a shaky breath. “I...I wanted to do what was best for Thomas,” he whimpers, and then he’s crying, and oh, this is the worst, he can’t be doing this in front of Patton, he’s better than this, Patton is going to be so disgusted—

Two arms wrap around him and pull him into a firm hug. “I know,” Patton murmurs, “I know. You’re always trying to do what’s best.”

Oh. Logan breaks down, sobbing into Patton’s shoulder even as his skin burns from the contact.

“How do you do it?” he demands.

“Do what?”

“Being Thomas’ emotions and his morality. Don’t you get sick of it? Isn’t it hard?”

Patton pulls back gently and readjusts his glasses where Logan knocked them askew. “Well, I mean...” He stops for a minute, gathering his thoughts. “It’s not easy, kiddo. Sometimes what Thomas wants isn’t the same as what’s right, and it’s up to me to make that call. And I don’t always make the right decision, and you guys don’t always take me super seriously, but that doesn’t mean I need to pick one or the other!” Patton takes Logan’s shaking hands into his own. “Thomas needs his feelings just as much as he needs his morality, you know that!”

“But...”

“And he needs his curiosity just as much as he needs his logic,” Patton finishes, looking Logan in the eye. “Hey, do you remember when we were picking classes in high school and people kept telling Thomas to take biology? Saying it was the easiest science?”

Logan wrinkles his nose. “I never liked biology. Too many squishy parts.”

Patton giggles. “Yeah, but it would have been the logical choice, right? We would have ended up taking it if Thomas hadn’t been more curious about chemistry.” Logan looks away. “Am I making sense?”

“Yes, it’s just...” Logan sighs. “I...I think I’ve caused a lot of unnecessary issues.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it, kiddo!” Patton cheers. “We all make silly mistakes sometimes. Like that time I ate a whole carton of cookies and got a terrible stomachache! It’s a learning experience.”

Logan blinks at him. “You...you didn’t learn anything from that,” he argues. “Virgil and I still have to stop you from overindulging on sweets. Weekly.”

Patton nods. “Yes, well, you and Virge learned to keep an eye on me! Therefore, a learning experience!”

Logan stares at him. “Are you...arguing semantics with me...to make me feel better?”

“Is it working?” Patton asks, smile wide and real.

Logan laughs helplessly and reaches forward, pulling Patton into a tight hug. Patton freezes for just a moment, surprised, but then hugs him back, leaning his head against Logan’s.

Experiment Log, 12/15/201X

This experiment was a failure. My own vested interest in the results blinded me to the safety and ethical concerns embedded within my methodology, and I very nearly brought severe harm not only to myself but to my family as well. I would not recommend attempting to repeat my results under any circumstances. More efficient methods of rectifying one’s self-image issues are accessible. I would recommend reaching out to friends and family and seeking advice from them, rather than attempting something so dangerous and inadvisable as what I have posited in this experiment.

This log should not make it into the hands of Thomas’ Anxiety, nor his Deceit. While Deceit is previously aware of the results of the experiment, it is my understanding that the whole catastrophe is a bit of a sore spot for him. Patton claims I should just apologize.

This concludes my experiment log. I thank my reviewer for his boundless patience, and my interviewee for his interference in the experiment.

Logan Sanders

#logan sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #logicality #loceit #moceit #roman sanders #virgil sanders #sanders sides #my writing #sympathetic deceit #let me know if i missed a trigger tag!!

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roomfox981 · 3 years

Text

Start Docker In Ubuntu

A Linux Dev Environment on Windows with WSL 2, Docker Desktop And the docker docs. Docker Desktop WSL 2 backend. Below is valid only for WSL1. It seems that docker cannot run inside WSL. What they propose is to connect the WSL to your docker desktop running in windows: Setting Up Docker for Windows and WSL. By removing /etc/docker you will loose all Images and data. You can check logs with. Journalctl -u docker.services. Systemctl daemon-reload && systemctl enable docker && systemctl start docker. This worked for me.

$ docker images REPOSITORY TAG ID ubuntu 12.10 b750fe78269d me/myapp latest 7b2431a8d968. Docker-compose start docker-compose stop. After installing the Nvidia Container Toolkit, you'll need to restart the Docker Daemon in order to let Docker use your Nvidia GPU: sudo systemctl restart docker Changing the docker-compose.yml Now that all the packages are in order, let's change the docker-compose.yml to let the Jellyfin container make use of the Nvidia GPU.

Complete Docker CLI

Container Management CLIs

Inspecting The Container

Interacting with Container

Image Management Commands

Image Transfer Comnands

Builder Main Commands

The Docker CLI

Manage images

docker build

Create an image from a Dockerfile.

docker run