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sekhisadventures · 1 year

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After the Storm

Valdrakken, The Roasted Ram, Three Hours After the Death of Raszageth

Normally, when a threat like Raszageth would be defeated, the cities of Azeroth would be alive with celebration. Cheers would echo throughout the taverns, wine and ale would flow like water, and those who helped defeat such a dire foe would be practically carried through the streets…

… but despite Raszageth’s defeat at the Vault in the furthest reaches of Thaldraszus it was hard to miss the fact that not one, but THREE massive proto-drakes were seen leaving the wrecked halls shortly afterwards.

Raszageth had fallen to the forces of the Alliance and Horde. Infact, to the entirety of Avalon and Savage United. Even Sekhi had managed to fight her way through the howling tempest of the Incarnates’ song to help her allies defeat the Storm Eater… but while the proto-drake had lost the battle, she had perhaps won the war.

As Raszageth succumbed to her wounds, Sekhi even hearing the Incarnate’s furious elemental chorus become a slow mournful dirge… she heard three more songs suddenly growing louder around her, just before Khadgar and Kalecgos let out a cry of alarm to the assembled adventurers as the Titan’s Prison failed, and three new foes exploded out of their cells!

Fyrakk the Blazing, a massive beast of molten rock and flames.

Vyranoth the Frozenheart, whose every wingbeat was a blizzard worthy of Northrend itself.

Finally their leader, Iridikron the Stonescaled, whose rage-filled cry at seeing Raszageth’s crumpled form was as powerful and forceful as an earthquake.

Before the three could claim revenge for their fallen sister, Khadgar had weaved a powerful teleportation spell to spirit the assembled heroes of Azeroth away from the battlefield and back to Valdrakken… and moments later the entire city gazed up in terror as the vault exploded from within, and the Incarnates took flight over the Dragon Isles.

Now, what would have been a celebration was instead a tense game of waiting. Rather than attack Valdrakken, the Incarnates had fled for parts unknown.

Sekhi sat in the grass outside the inn, gazing up into the sky as she idly turned her flute in her hands. She had felt the songs of the three Incarnates. They were each weaker individually than Raszageth had been as they had just escaped, but against the already exhausted and battle-weary adventurers it would have still been a terrible and costly fight for either side. With them freed the fate of Azeroth was once more in jeopardy.

Sekhi had heard from Nelen of the theories of the elemental chaos that had predated the rise of mortals upon Azeroth, and she wanted no part of that. That wouldn’t be a song, it would be endless rancor of noise and sound that would leave all within it at the mercy of the Primalists... and perhaps even cause the return of the Elemental Lords. True the Earthen Ring had sided with them during the war against the Legion, but then they had a common foe. The Lords needed their help, would they still stand by the mortal races without the threat of extinction?

Sekhi sighed, then yipped a bit as a hand held a skewer of grilled meat infront of her muzzle.

Jeemjazo sat down on the grass next to her, the empty stick his own had been on dangling from his muzzle as he idly chewed on the wood. He took it out and said, “Owed ye fer that one ye gave me. Yer mate Edwood told me ‘bout what happened at the Vault.” he nodded. Jeemjazo had become much more laid back since he had been reunited with his mother, his only living relative really, and had begun looking into how one might join the Horde’s navy… but he didn’t want to leave Sekhi alone with Dissonantia after her.

That being said, he hadn’t gone to the Vault. He was a novice with his weapons at best and saving Sekhi from Cenoon had been luck more than anything. Galdia and Dareley had been teaching him how to use his sword and axe in a way that wasn’t just flailing them about, but he was only just learning. After all, Saltfang wouldn’t have wanted a slave who could fight back, the pirate captain had never taught Jeemjazo how to handle a weapon!

Sekhi sighed, “Thanks Jeem…” she replied, nibbling on the meat. It smelled delicious, Jaie having become good friends with the Ram’s head chef and having swapped a few cooking tips with them. They had clearly taken some of her spice techniques to heart… but her own heart wasn’t in it. Raszageth’s success at freeing her kin was a unique threat for the shamaness. She’d only just managed to teach herself how to block out the Storm Eater’s song, and now there were three more of them, likely stronger than she had been.

“Murblblbl…” whined Murgly Jim, looking at her as he sat up in the eggshell backpack that was his home.

Sekhi looked at him, then gave him a small smile and reached out a finger, poking him gently right above his mouth. “… boop.” she said with a faint giggle.

Jim blinked at her, then shrugged and blew a bubble.

Inside the Inn, in her private room, Samantha Montebank stared into the mirror over her wash basin. Her eyes were narrowed in annoyance.

“Alright Annulus. I’ve had it up to HERE…” she gestured with her hand just under her nose, “… with this ‘I cannot say’ garbage. Three proto-drakes that make Raszageth look like a ticked off salamander are loose and I’ve been hearing shit since we got to the Isles, and I know I’m not just imagining it because I talked to Darkhoof and she said she’s hearing something too, from below us. Start talking or I’m going to go out of the city with a shovel and keep digging until reach whatever is making that sound!” she snapped.

From inside her mind came the reply, “Samantha. It is not that I do not wish to tell you, it is that I am prevented from doing so.” said Annulus.

“Prevented by what?!” she hissed, trying to keep her voice low. Nobody could hear Annulus but her, so to an outsider it would sound like she was talking to herself… which, to be fair, some of the ren’dorei did. Becoming a void elf could leave someone more than a little… off… sometimes. “I know Deathwing was a starcursed monster by the end, did he leave something on the Isles from the Void?” she asked.

A long moment of hesitation, then came the reply, “Not… something… no.” said Annulus.

As she did Samantha scowled, “Annulus, you give me a straight answer or I swear to whatever entities I can think of I’m marching right downstairs and asking Dareley to perform an exorcism.”

She winced, feeling a sudden alien emotion in her mind… then blinked as she realized it was fear. Annulus was afraid? She didn’t even have a body! What could hurt her?!

“Samantha. Do not say such things. I am telling you all I can, but I am still tied to the Void and through it my creators. When I say ‘I cannot say,’ I mean just that. I can NOT say. No matter how you beg, plead, or threaten me, I am prevented from imparting this information to you in any way.” stated the void entity.

Sam frowned, straightening up. “Fine, fine. I wouldn’t do that anyways, too big a risk it’d undo… well… you know…” she gestured to her torso. “Still, I know that there has to be something on the isles related to the Void. I heard about that ‘Black Locus’ thing they found in the Plains, and Deathwing was probably already void-mad by the time they sealed the islands. I know enough about history to know he made the Dragon Soul under their instructions…” she frowned, walking around the room slowly.

Then she paused, a thought occurring to her. “Annulus… before he was Deathwing, he was the Earthwarder… are there, I dunno, caves under the island?” she asked.

Annulus didn’t reply, but Samantha felt an odd tingle of… relief… that certainly wasn’t her own.

“Yeah, that would make sense. From everything Nelen told us that he was able to dig up on dragon history the other four aspects were totally unprepared for Deathwing's betrayal, but he was VERY prepared and caught them all by surprise… so he had to have fallen before they left to fight in the War of the Ancients. It wasn’t just some spur-of-the-moment thing.” she nodded, “It…” she paused, “… yeah… of course. He was the Earthwarder, he had to have somewhere he could have communed with the Old Gods in secret… and where better than where the other four couldn’t follow him? He must’ve used his power to shape the earth and found somewhere underground!” she snapped her fingers, then grinned as she felt a ripple of pleasure.

“Huh…” she smirked, “I felt that… Annulus, I didn’t think void beings like you had emotions.”

“We have been bonded for several years Samantha. As I affect you, you to can affect me to some degree…” admitted Annulus.

“Oh? Good to know… I wonder what else our bond can pull off now…” she muttered, glancing in the mirror, then jumping a bit before she spun around and pulled her daggers in one fluid motion to come face to face with…

… nothing at all.

She glanced back at the mirror, seeing only her reflection… but for a moment she’d have sworn she wasn’t alone in the room. A shadowy figure had been standing just behind her…

… or perhaps, it always had been and was just now becoming more real?

A few doors down, Zhan-min was looking over his beer making ingredients and tools, examining something he picked up from the interior of the vault before they’d all fled the other Incarnates. He couldn’t sense them as strongly as Sekhi could, but he wasn’t exactly complaining. What he’d felt had been quite enough thanks!

He opened one of his keg-maces, scrubbing it out with a cloth and clean water, the poured in a beer base and held up what he’d found. “This’ll either make th’ most powerful brew I’ve ever done… or it’ll blow someone ta bits.” he muttered, dropping it into the keg and sealing it firmly.

The strange weapon shook suddenly, then went still, and Zhan-min heard thunder rolling… It’d mature given time. All he needed now was to think of a name.

Down below in the main room of the Inn was the rest of their team, save for Grimo who had been asked several times to not smoke his cigars in the Inn and, after he’d told a seemingly pandaren barmaid that he’d smoke what he damn well pleased after that fight toots he was reminded, loudly and violently, that while the citizenry of Valdrakken may look like orcs, humans, elves, pandaren, and such… that they were likely dragons with a visage form… and was chased out of the room as the pandaren unleashed a gout of flames at him after taking offense at his words.

Nelen sat at the table with Nitika, Jaie, Edwood, Mola’raum, Galdia, and Dareley nearby, and infront of the table was Laurelgosa in her own visage form as Laura Brightflame, pacing back and forth as she explained their new foes to them.

“Now, remember, some of my memories may not be entirely accurate even now… but of those three Iridikron, that is the earth-aspected Incarnate, was the most dangerous. He was the de-facto leader of the Primalist Rebels before my people were sealed away, and he was a cunning and dangerous foe. Their retreat as opposed to laying siege to Valdrakken was likely down to him. He would not risk a frontal assault against an unknown foe, especially one that had proven capable of defeating Raszageth, and even moreso with them weakened from their captivity.” she nodded firmly, the formerly meek and unsure dracthyr now talking as though she was a seasoned veteran giving a military briefing… but then, her memories had been slowly returning over the past few months and, it had turned out, that is precisely what she was.

Neltharion had made the dracthyr to be soldiers, and a soldier she was indeed.

“Fyrakk is far more impulsive than Iridikron. This can be used against him, he will underestimate his opponents sometimes. This is likely how he was defeated by the Aspects.” she nodded, “Their sister, Vyranoth is far more restrained than either of them… but this can make her the most dangerous of all. She’ll bide her time until she knows when to strike where it will do the most damage.”

Galdia growled, sitting up in her seat, “Then what the fel are we sitting around for?!” she spat, “If this is when they’re weakest we should go take ‘em apart now!” she barked.

Laura shook her head, “Believe me Galdia, I would wish to stop their threat as soon as possible… but Iridikron will be ensuring they cannot be found. His mastery is earth. Once free of the Vault they likely went to ground in a very literal sense. Its possible they may not even be on the Dragon Isles anymore. Wherever they are, they will be well hidden…”

Dareley nodded, then shrugged, “Er… how though lass? I mean, big bloody dragons made o’ fire ‘n ice ‘n suchlike are hard ta miss.” asked the dwarf.

Laura nodded, “A fair question Dareley. One thing I do recall clearly is this: the Incarnates can take a visage as well.” she explained, gesturing to her own appearance of an elven woman with hints of draconic features. “While their own visage forms are far more… elemental… than our own, they are not much bigger than your average human or orc. While in their transformed state, hiding is as simple as finding a convenient cave and Iridikron using his power to seal the entrance. With Sekhi’s help we may be able to track them down but she is one Shaman and they could have retreated to another landmass entirely.”

Galdia growled, emptying her mug and slamming it down. “So, basically, we’re stuck waiting… AGAIN.” she snapped. “Yeah, screw that. I’m going to go take Nightpelt, find some Primalists, and beat some leads out of them.” she nodded, getting up and stomping out of the inn.

Laura sighed at her as she left, but Nitika shook her head. “Its best to just let her. Galdia isn’t good at waiting for an enemy to come to her.” she shrugged apologetically.

The dracthyr nodded, “Yes, I have fought alongside several dracthyr in the distant past who were much the same…” she smirked a bit, “She would make a fine Dark Talon if she was one of us.”

Edwood shrugged, “Eh, can’t say I don’t get what she’s feelin’.” commented the Forsaken. “Today was supposed ta be our decisive battle against that giant purple monster… ‘n now her mates are runnin’ wild across Azeroth. Gotta admit, I’m feelin’ a bit antsy at that thought m’self…”

Nelen nodded at that, “Likewise Ed. I mean, I know retreat was the smart option, I was about ready to collapse when Raszageth finally died… but… well…” he shrugged, “Yeah… worgen instincts are screaming ‘they are a threat, kill the threat’ over and over.” he shook his head, taking a deep breath as he did. “I’ll manage, but its not easy.” he glanced around, then realized that one specific member was unaccounted for. “Huh… where’s Shalandrae?” he asked Dareley.

The older dwarf shrugged, “Oh, she’s been workin’ more with th’ Dragonscale Expedition lately. Apparently helpin’ out this draenei lass who saved her arse a bit ago.” he replied.

Nelen raised his eyebrow at him, “Huh, well, alright then. I suppose if she feels like she owes her that only makes sense.” he replied.

Dareley, who had known Shalandrae for longer, just smirked a bit… though it was hard to see under his beard. He had a feeling that it was more than just that.

Near the outskirts of the city, Shalandrae was sitting under a tree with her hands folded over her middle, her legs stretched out before her, as a large panthera rested it’s head on them with a contented purr.

“How cute… normally Eocundo is not very friendly with people other than me.” chuckled Aziguni as she rested against the tree as well.

“It’s a druid thing, we’re all good with animals. Some of the more powerful among us can even understand their voices. Shan’do Stormrage can talk to most anything he likes.” she replied, scratching the large feline behind it’s ears as it stretched and pawed at the grass. Nearby Muaaqi, her talbuk, grazed idly.

Aziguni chuckled, sketching in her book again as they sat there. “You know, I truly envy you druids. You have a connection with the wilds of Azeroth that few others can ever hope to come close to. Eocundo, Muaaqi, and I have… an understanding among us, but to truly be able to speak to them as we speak to each other…” she sighed wistfully, “Perhaps someday… my people are not native to this world, our connection is not as strong as the kal’dorei’s is. Perhaps one day we too shall hear ‘nature’s call’ as you do.”

Shalandrae shrugged, “I was born just before the War of the Ancients, I didn’t hear it until the Legion returned to lay siege to Mount Hyjal. That’s about ten thousand years, give or take a few. Its possible…” she admitted.

The draenei smiled at that thought, and for a while nothing was heard but the scratching of her charcoal on paper… after a long moment however, Aziguni broached the subject that was on everyone’s minds. “So… there are three of them now…”

Shalandrae sighed, “Yeah… there are. So much for keeping it quiet. Alexstraza and Nozdormu raised the alarm to everyone they could the minute Raszageth went for the Vault… and I don’t think anyone on the island missed when those three blasted their way out.” she frowned, rubbing her eyes, “The minute word reaches Orgrimmar and Stormwind, and it will eventually, its going to be chaos. Raszageth was as powerful as an aspect, and everyone still remembers the destruction Deathwing caused… now there’s three who want to subjugate the mortal races and return the world to elemental chaos?” she shook her head slowly.

“Indeed… I imagine Turalyon is praying to the Light that King Anduin returns soon just so that he can have him explain why this was kept secret from the populace at large.” smirked Aziguni.

Shalandrae snorted, “Elune have mercy on that poor man… there’s going to be an angry mob outside of the castle demanding answers. I imagine there’s letters heading back to the city as we speak reading ‘bigods! Giant dragons made of elemental madness! Its Deathwing times three, take the kids and run for the hills!’”

Aziguni smirked, then sighed, “It would be more amusing if it was not also true…” she pointed out.

Shalandrae sighed, “Yeaaaaaaaaaah there is that…” she winced, then looked down as her pouch whistled at her. She fished out her gemstone and drew the rune for ‘connect’ on its polished surface as Nelen’s face appeared over it in miniature.

“Shalandrae, sorry to cut your visit short but we just got word that Raszageth’s storm over the Forbidden Reach to the north is dissipating. Looks like it can’t maintain itself without her. The dracthyr are organizing an expedition there to see what they can find so we’re meeting up to see how we can help.” said the magus.

“Eh, its okay Nelen. I could do with some dinner anyways. I’ll be at the Ram in a little bit.” she replied, drawing the rune for ‘sever’ to end the spell and getting to her feet. “Gotta run for now Aziguni. Nice seeing you again.” she nodded, giving Eocundo one last pat on his head before walking off through the crowds, her staff balanced on her shoulders with her wrists resting over it.

“Yes, I enjoyed it as well. Give your colleagues my congratulations on defeating Raszageth.” she replied. She watched her go, then glanced down at her sketch. It showed a detailed drawing of the tree, and of a night elf woman leaning against it with a large panthera resting it’s head on their lap.

She smiled at it, then closed the sketchbook and put it away. “A lovely thought, but now is definitely not the time… perhaps once all this is over, should it end in our favor.” she mused to herself, then whistled for her companions and headed back towards the building that the Dragonscale Expedition had rented in the city for their headquarters.

#adventures in azeroth #world of warcraft #warcraft fanfiction #warcraft roleplay #dragonflight

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vs-redemption · 3 years

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I though of another thing lmao. I play a lot of video games too lol

But Dabi x Healer!Reader

(I was thinking of mercy from ow so reader has the ability to heal and damage boost her allies and revive them from the dead. - I would say to nerf that for the story it would depend on how long and how they died) - 🐱❤️

From Cindy: 🐱anon! I love you and miss you!! I’m sorry it took so long to get to this! I’ve been a busy bee recently and have had some writers block but I’m feeling very refreshed now! I had fun writing about our favorite burnt villain boy, and I hope you like how this turned out! ❤️ ❤️

Partners (Dabi x GN!Reader)

Dabi was not ashamed to admit that his only reason for recruiting you into the league of villains was to use you for your quirk. It seemed like your powers had almost been designed specifically to support his goals and make up for his weaknesses. His intense blue flames caused severe damage to his body, but your healing touch could fully recover him in an instant. And anything in his path that could somehow withstand the heat of his flames would be burnt to ash instantly with a simple boost from your quirk. You were the perfect tool, and he had fully planned on capitalizing on that.

“I trust you to find people to support our cause,” Shigaraki had told him in the beginning, “but don’t you think this person is just going to be a liability in a fight?”

It was a concern he and Dabi had shared and was the biggest drawback to allowing you to join the team. You couldn’t defend yourself and would need to rely on the other villains to keep you safe whenever things got dangerous. If there was anything Dabi hated more than anything, it was pretending to care about other people. It was bad enough he had to stomach Shigaraki and the others, but at least he could trust them to hold their own in a battle. In exchange for your incredible abilities, you were going to be a constant thorn in his side. However, the pros outweighed the cons and he ultimately ended up agreeing to let you join.

At first, he thought he might’ve made a big mistake. You got along a little too well with the others, and ideally he wanted you to prioritize him over everyone else. Unfortunately, he was awful at faking interest and carrying conversations about anything that wasn’t related to himself, so building any sort of connection with you felt basically impossible. After some thought, he decided to keep his distance as much as possible unless interaction was absolutely necessary. As long as you remembered why he’d recruited you in the first place, and used your quirk the way he’d intended, he’d be satisfied.

Dabi was very familiar with rage. It was the emotion that had kept him constant company since he was a small child, and the emotion that fueled and motivated him whenever things got too painful or difficult. However, as familiar as he was with rage, he’d never learned how to control it when something triggered an outburst. So, when you refused to give his flames a boost during a particularly intense showdown with the heroes, he’d gone completely ballistic. Even without your powers, the intensity of his quirk has been magnified causing his flames to go wild. The anger had consumed him so completely that not even a direct order from Shigaraki had been able to stop him from unleashing the waves and waves of blue fire. The heat was so overbearing that both the heroes and villains had been forced to retreat.

Back at the hideout, you did your best to keep Shigaraki calm while you tended to the wounds incurred during the fight, including some nasty burns on Twice’s arms from when he’d tried to approach Dabi and reason with him. The fire wielder in question had not returned to the base with the others, choosing to continue on the warpath until someone managed to stop him or he wore himself out. He was surprised when it was you who came back out a few hours later to retrieve him from the dark alley way he’d hidden himself away in. Despite his exhaustion and the excruciating pain all over his entire body, he went right back on the defensive as soon as he saw your face.

“You must have a death wish!” His says through a grimace. A ball of fire appears in his hand threatening, but you could see the steam coming off of his skin from how much he’d overused his quirk already.

“From where I’m standing, I’d say it’s you with the death wish,” you frown. “How much longer do you think your body can hold out if you continue like this?”

“That’s none of your business!” Dabi snaps and takes a shaking step forward. “I only allowed you to join our cause so that you could support us in fights.”

“And I will lend you my support when it is beneficial to the cause,” you fold your arms and fix him with a hard glare. “The league needs you. But look at how your raw power affects your body on its own. If I boosted your quirk, you’d be a pile of ash and bones in an instant.”

“That’s not your call to make,” Dabi growls before his flame sputters out and he stumbles forward. You put your arms out instinctively to catch him, but the heat coming from his skin is painful to the touch. You help him to the ground as gently as you can and carefully start to heal his wounds. Thankfully he doesn’t protest.

“It is my call to make if it affects me,” you argue as you hover your hands over his skin. “My quirk has limits just like anybody else’s. Do you really expect me to help you destroy yourself knowing it’s going to be my responsibility to fix you again afterwards?”

Dabi hoped that was a hypothetical question. What he expected was for you to do whatever he asked, whether it put physical strain on you or not. He did understand your thought process though. His quirk was both a blessing and a curse, and the level of his power was closely tied to the intensity of his emotions. It was definitely possible that a boost to his flames could push him a little too far.

“You know,” you plop down next to him on the dirty ground once you finish doing what you can for his burns, tired from exerting yourself more than usual that day. “Maybe instead of testing the limits of your mortality, you could just try relying on your allies instead.” You glance over at him to see a scowl take over his features, and when he finally turns to meet your gaze you simply smile. “Even if you only put your trust in one single person, you might find that accomplishing your goals becomes far easier. I’m sure you’re not the only one in our group with ulterior motives, so working with someone rather than against could be mutually beneficial.”

Trust was not something Dabi had much experience with. He wasn’t sure he could trust another person, and it probably wasn’t safe for other people to trust him either. Still though, an under the table partnership might not be a bad idea, and was part of his original plan for you anyway. He wasn’t a fan of compromises, and you didn’t seem like the type to be easily bullied into compliance, but having someone working with him specifically rather than indirectly through Shigaraki might prove useful. And if things didn’t work out, he could always ditch you later. Or perhaps you were even more perfectly matched with him than he originally thought. In which case, it might be possible for him to learn how to do that pesky ‘trust’ thing. Only time would tell.

#🐱 anon #Dabi x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #Dabi #bnha dabi #bnha #mha #Cindy's Writing

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xhanisai · 3 years

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What if you had it all, But nobody to call?

AO3 / FFN

Summary: "...Am I dreaming?"

Marinette almost leapt to her feet and turned around, only for common sense and the hammered identity rule to slap her in the face and keep her rooted on the spot.

Her Chaton was crying...crying. His entire body shook and shuddered as the sound of his quiet gasps filled the tense air, his touch now a raging inferno coursing through her veins.

And she couldn't even bring him into her arms and brush his tears away with her pinpricked fingers.

~(x)~

Ladybug and Chat Noir's abilities were capable of many, many things. Things that were miraculously incredible to say at the very least and beyond scientific comprehension- for goodness sake, how many times have Ladybug brought the dead back to life after the umpteenth distraught puppet villain razed them to the ground? And how many times have Chat Noir managed to take down La Tour Eiffel with one singular touch, rendering it to nothing but ashes and dust in the wind? However, as magnificent and majestic as their powers were, not even they were able to prevent the dreaded pandemic that took over the world by a storm and put everyone completely at its mercy. This time, the heroes that the world needed were those with medical training, scrubs and a vow to the Hippocratic oath. Mon Dieu, were they such brilliant, resilient heroes indeed. . Despite the United Nations worldwide urging all civilians to stay indoors at all times (unless necessary outings were needed) and countries locking down dozens at a time, Le Papillon let it all flow through one ear and out the other. It's as if he has an addiction to sending out akumas left, right and centre as severe as a chain-smoker and the fact that there's an airborne virus that could completely destroy even the most healthiest person was just a muted buzz in the background.

Then again, what does one expect from the tunnel-visioned, single-minded, 'father of the year', Gabriel fucking Agreste?

"There are people literally dying out here and this crusty old man can't even take a hint!?"

"My Lady, what do we expect from the same man who regularly akumatises M. Ramier?"

Of course, the teenaged vigilantes had no choice but to risk their safeties as well as their loved ones by sneaking out of their abodes and battling the millionth akuma on the streets.

"Chaton...my parents are starting to think I'm constipated. CONSTIPATED."

"I told you, just use the shower excuse rather than the toilet excuse."

"But then they'll think I have some sweaty teenaged puberty problem!"

"Either way it's a bit shit, isn't it?"

"Oh fuck off..."

Thankfully, Tikki and Plagg were able to upgrade their traditional superhero suits, extending the masks downwards so that they covered the heroes' lower faces and filtered out the air, keeping them safe as they battled. However, social distancing was a whole new different obstacle that made these very fights thousands of times harder to win. The numerous events that Chat Noir had to be verbally restrained from going absolutely apeshit on akumas that gave Ladybug a beating that went too far when he could have pushed her away in ordinary circumstances was just insane. The heroine never realised how dangerous her infamous clumsiness could be at times, concluding her completely vulnerable and at the akuma's mercy whilst Chat Noir has no choice but to scream her name in agony a good distance away. And vice versa. Oh mon Dieu. She has had witnessed her poor partner get skewered and burnt alive by the more unforgiving victims too many times, her shaking arms aching to bring his body against hers so that she can feel his heart beating under her touch and lay kisses upon his tousled locks just to ensure her barely sane mind that he was still alive. That he won't leave her forever. The pandemic was such a vile curse... And it made everyone feel so, so alone. Finally, after months of these life-threatening fights, both physical and internal, both Ladybug and Chat Noir against le Papillon and the doctors and nurses and essential workers against the virus, a new testing system was introduced.

"I finally got my results! I got negative. What about you, Bug?"

"I got negative too! Dieu merci...looks like those sniffles I had really was hayfever after all,"

"You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that, Ladybug. I...I couldn't help but think the worst when you mentioned about the sniffles last week...and I even yelled at you for coming out to battle the other day..."

"Chat, you only had my best interests in mind...and I would have had done the same. But you can make it up to me, now that we can share a social bubble,"

"How?"

"Follow me!"

"-And now, we can freely grab each other whenever we want and we will be back in sync during akuma battles in no time. Isn't that great? Neither of us has to wallow in guilt or cry because we weren't able to push the other one out of harm's way." Marinette sighed happily, her bare hands squeezing her Chaton's as they both rested their backs against the pillar in between them. The noir-haired girl couldn't help but let her fingers and thumbs map out every nook, every crevice and every feature of her partner's hands like a desperate lover. The way that his longer, thicker fingers flexed under her touch and curled warmly against hers, the rough callouses on the palms that indicated years of hard work to whatever sport he's dedicated himself to, the glossy smoothness of his detransform miraculous on his right hand and its ridges poking into her skin and the sweet body heat that emanated from his caresses and sent her entire body aflame. She missed this. Dieu, she missed her partner's physical touch so much.

"...Am I dreaming?"

Marinette almost leapt to her feet and turned around, only for common sense and the hammered identity rule to slap her in the face and keep her rooted on the spot. Her Chaton was crying...crying. His entire body shook and shuddered as the sound of his quiet gasps filled the tense air, his touch now a raging inferno coursing through her veins. And she couldn't even bring him into her arms and brush his tears away with her pinpricked fingers. "Chat Noir?? What's wrong?" She asked, her heart skipping multiple beats when she attempted to move her hands away from his, only for Noir to grip them tightly and entwine their fingers firmly. A perfect fit. . "S-Sorry...heh-I'm not upset," He reassured her, tightening his clasp on her hands lovingly, his lips aching to press against her sweet, bare-knuckles in a sound kiss. "It's just...it's just been a while since I've had proper human contact, My Lady...so I've almost forgotten what it's like to be touched...or touch another..." Adrien felt her move, rather than saw, his Lady's breath hitching in her throat as she in return sent a squeeze back to him. It was as if his entire being was surrounded by a pool of warmth, lighting up his crushed soul and cleansing his shattered heart. The urge to just turn around and envelope her in his greedy arms was exorbitantly unbearable. She was right there, just behind him, tempting him with that oh-so-familiar bakery scent of cinnamon and vanilla that he could taste it. Alas, his unwavering sense of loyalty to her rules and his primal feelings to keep her safe kept him chained down. . But sometimes, even the most beaten down, the most saddest and the most broken of people can receive a glimpse of hope.

"Well, now you can have all the human contact you want, Chat. C-Close your eyes and I'll come to you- mine are closed too."

She didn't give him a chance to answer, using her hands to manoeuvre her way towards him until finally, she found his lap and settled down before bringing him in for a well-needed embrace and burying his head into the crook of her neck. Adrien didn't hesitate in crushing her body against his chest, his arms locked around her waist, one hand digging into her smooth tendrils whilst the other one clenching the fabric of her shirt on the small of her back. He selfishly inhaled in her scent, his tears saturating her neck whilst she in turn let her fingers tangle with his blonde strands, lips puckered against his nape as she memorised the pattern of his heartbeat in tandem to hers.

"How long can w-we stay like this?"

"As long as you would like, mon Minou..."

They stayed like that in the same position, all night.

~(x)~

#my writing #my fanfiction #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #Adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #pandemic #prompt: covid-19

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skullsandwineglasses · 3 years

Text

The Legends (2019) Full Review

My review of the first 30 episodes of the drama can be found here.

This is more of a rant than a review. The drama should have wrapped up at episode 35. I was able to tolerate it up to episode 42 when the wedding was, but by episode 48 it’s a total mess.

If only this scene was as epic as the picture makes it look. But alas, this was just a dream sequence, and by this point in the finale, I was already bored and scrolling through instagram on my phone. If only they really did have a love-hate relationship. But this is an angst-free drama.

Inconsistent character arcs

The FL and ML have become incredibly weak, both in terms of abilities and personality. The changes just don’t make sense for their characters.

Zhao yao is no longer the badass she once was, and I’m actually fine with that. Moving away from her demoness persona is part of her growth. BUT, she no longer has a goal in the drama (except when she finds out that Mo Qing has an inner demon. Then, her goal becomes finding a way to expel the demon). But in the last quarter of the drama, she doesn’t really do anything of importance. She lost her sword, but she doesn’t actively go and find it. Instead, Mo Qing and Jiang Wu are the ones who took initiative to hunt it down for her. And when Lin Zi Yu got away with it, she doesn’t bother thinking about finding her sword again?? I mean girl, you lost your sword. Your only weapon. Why is that not at the top of your list of priorities? Is this the same FL who had risked it all for the Wan Jun sword?

(I miss the demoness)

Her tolerance level for things that annoy her is just so out of character. Zhao yao used to be someone who always fought back against anything she didn’t like. But when it comes to Jiang Wu, she seems to have unlimited tolerance for him. Yes, he saved her, but owing him does not mean letting him be a menace. Like when Jiang Wu sucked the life energy out of Ah Dai. All she did was try to restrain Mo Qing from attacking Jiang Wu, but she didn’t spring forward to prevent Jiang Wu from killing Ah Dai. I mean, the cause of Mo Qing’s rage was Ah Dai dying. Shouldn’t you go address the root of the problem? Instead, she just sits and stares and lets Jiang Wu kill Ah Dai instead of doing something. And then there’s the scene in the library when she’s asleep, but Mo Qing is wrestling with his inner demon, and then the Wan Jun sword kills the 2 guards on duty. She just sleeps through the entire thing. Wasn’t she once the most feared conqueror/demoness? Isn’t she a warrior? How can your senses not be alert when there’s so much ruckus around you? Someone on MDL said that she became a glorified baby sitter for the ML, and while I don’t agree that it’s as extreme as that, I can see their point. All that Zhao yao does after the wedding is try to reign in Mo Qing to prevent him from going into full-on demon mode. She holds him back, tries to calm him and soothe him, rinse and repeat.

Speaking of Mo Qing, his current personality is just rage and jealousy. At first, it was kinda endearing seeing him jealous, but soon his entire arc was just about him being consumed by jealousy. The writers try to justify it by saying that he’s always had low self-esteem and been unconfident about himself because of his upbringing, and the growing demon energy inside him is exacerbating these thoughts, making him more unlike himself, but you’re telling me that everything that he and Zhao yao had gone through together was all for naught? This would have made sense 5 years ago, but we’ve seen that he has greatly matured since becoming sect leader. During the earlier episodes, he was able to see right through Zhao yao’s mask. He teased her, flirted with her, scolded her, and basically proved he’s her equal in every way, and he did it all with easy confidence. And now suddenly, all of that growth reverses, and he’s insecure and sensitive again. This character progression just doesn’t make sense in the context of everything that’s happened. I would have loved to have seen more of the introverted and unconfident Mo Qing at the beginning of the drama. But instead, we only got a handful of scenes before that part of his character arc was cut short and we skip ahead 5 years later and then another 5 years later to when he’s the sect leader. There was honestly no purpose for Mo Qing’s suffering. He just suffered for the sake of suffering. In other xianxia dramas, characters suffered for a purpose. It was a price they had to pay in order to protect someone they love. But this suffering is just pointless. It does nothing for this character arc. And they kept replaying the same montage of him sleeping on the dragon. As if it’s not already clear from the last 20 episodes that he’s being haunted by his father’s demon.

Villains and supporting characters

I didn’t really care for the villains? Luo Mingxuan is still alive, but doesn’t do anything until the last 5 episodes. I eyeroll whenever Lin Zi Yu is onscreen. Jiang Wu is the only one who’s interesting and he serves as comedic relief.

And then there are all the unnecessary deaths. It’s like they’re killing off all the good characters one by one. What was the point of killing off the doctor? He was the only character who could scold both Zhao yao and Mo Qing. The drama felt so empty without him.

But on a good note, I really liked most of the supporting characters, from Zhiyan to Shi Qi to Ah Rong to Gu Hanguang. They were also the most consistent characters in the drama.

On a bad note, the drama spent too much time on the backstories of supporting characters. I did not care to watch Suruo mourn Luo Mingxuan and remembering how they fell in love, and this happens for pretty much all the couples in the drama. It’s because Zhao yao and Mo Qing have a very simple romantic arc that’s resolved very early on, so the writers had to throw in fillers to drag out the drama. And the consequence is that our leads end up getting not enough screen time.

The final 2 episodes

Oh boy. The last 2 episodes were a hot mess. In the final battle, everyone kept attacking and stabbing Luo Mingxuan, but he just won’t die?? He’s like Wolverine. He just comes back stronger. It just kept dragging on and on, and I completely lost interest. And I felt bad for Xu Kai. He was standing on the sidelines for most of the battle, just watching and shooting worried faces at Zhao yao. I hate to say he was useless, but it just felt like the writers did him dirty. Even Jiany Wu, who had already died by that point, was given a brief re-appearance. While Mo Qing, the ML, was forced to sit out on the action.

I’m also so over the will-he-won’t-he be evil plot. I keep saying this but I’ll say it again. It. Just. Keeps. Dragging. I’ve watching longer dramas, but this one felt to go on forever. We get it. You’re being tortured by your inner demon, but love will conquer all.

The editing is also weird? Some of the scenes aren’t in chronological order, and there’s no separation between dream sequences and reality. I also never liked the preview at the beginning of each episode. I also hate how they cut some crucial scenes from the TV version that’s on youtube, forcing me to hop onto doboku, which buffers.

Honestly, the last episode felt like a hallucinated dream sequence. In one scene, they’re all sitting around the table saying that the need to seal the Wan Jun sword before Mo Qing gets out of the control, and then it suddenly cuts to black with a title card that says 5 years later (don’t get me started on how often they overuse the “5 years later” plot device. Why is it always exactly 5 years?) We then see that Zhiyan is now the sect leader, and we’re told that Mo Qing has sealed himself away, and Zhao yao has been waiting for him to return. We don’t see them say goodbye to Mo Qing before he seals himself away. No scene showing a handover to Zhiyan. We’re just forced to go with it and imagine these scenes ourselves.

Zhao yao, with a new hairstyle and new clothes to signify the time skip, watches Zhi yan and the sect from the distance. She then goes to visit other people, like Sima Rong and Liu Cangling. Liu Cangling and Zhiyan are the only couple who were able to move on from each other, and honestly, good for them. We then see Zhao yao sitting in the cave, pouring wine onto the cave floor, and then it cuts to black again and a sword flies through the air and wedges itself on the bedrock and we hear Mo Qing say Zhao yao’s name in a voiceover. And then it cuts to a scene where they’re both in the cave wearing their clothes from 5 years and Zhao yao has her old hairstyle. You assume this is a flashback to when they sealed the sword. And then we see Mo Qing in another realm where he lowers the sword in to the water, presumably sealing it. And then it cuts to both of them on the street buying food, wearing their old clothes and hairstyles.

Does this mean he got out of the seal? When in the timeline is this street scene? How did he get out of the seal? Did he just walk out? Was Zhao yao there waiting for him, or did he go and find her? It’s typical for there to be a long period of uncertain separation in xianxia and wuxia dramas, and these dramas usually end either ambiguously where you don’t know if the couple will reunite, or they end with an emotional reunion, like in Ashes of Love, Eternal Love, Love and Destiny, and Love and Redemption, and famously in Return of the Condor Heroes. But what in the world was this ending?? The hell happened? That was so anticlimactic. If the scene on the street really was their “reunion” after he got out of the seal, does that mean Zhao yao changed her hair back to 5 years ago? Why is the costuming so confusing then?

And the last scene where they have the same actors play their kids? Um, no. That’s just plain weird. You built up the chemistry between the 2 actors, and then in the end you make them play siblings and re-enact the scene of when their parents met? For what? To make the audience reminisce about the budding romance between the leads at the beginning so that things come full circle? But, these characters are siblings?? You’re trying to make us emotional over a scene of two siblings pretending to be lovers?

There was just no point in doing that. It doesn’t tell us anything about the characters’ married life now. I don’t care about their kids. I care about the characters and what they’re doing now. What a strange and uncomfortable way to end the drama. Not satisfying at all.

It would have been better if they had left it ambiguous. The amount of times that Zhao yao came back from the dead showed that they can defy the impossible, so even if it was an ambiguous ending, you’d still be able to believe that they’ll be together again. But this mess just ruined the chemistry. Ugh. I really miss the first half of the drama.

Overall Impression

I’m mad about how chaotic the last few episodes were. While the beginning of the drama wasn’t without its flaws either, it was still very promising and intriguing. The beginning of the drama felt like they knew where they were going with the story, even if you didn’t completely like the direction that it went. So yes, I echo the other critiques saying that this drama had a strong beginning and a weak end.

When I got to episode 35, I thought, how bad can this get? When I got to episode 42, I was still holding out hope that maybe other people were just harsh and maybe I’ll actually enjoy it. But no, the final 10 episodes are really as bad as everyone says it is.

The romance, which was the only reason I stuck to the drama, also felt a little underdeveloped. I wish we got to see more scenes of them pre-episode 30.They were so cute then. Everything post-episode 30 was just them being constantly worried about each other.

At least there was no angst. And the comedy was great. So there’s that.

I give this drama a 7/10 for the characters and the premise. The plot is not worth watching due to terrible editing, pacing, and consistency, but it’s also a drama that won’t take you long to watch since you could skip most of it anyway and just go to the scenes with the leads. It’s my first drama watching Bai Lu and Xu Kai, but I’m def now interested in more of their work, like Arsenal Military Academy.

#招摇 #the legends #bai lu #xu kai #cdrama #白鹿 #许凯 #zhao yao #cdrama review #cdrama rant

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Toxic

TITLE: Toxic

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: One-shot

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki loves telling everyone that he fears nothing and no one. Tony asks him to check in on Character, who has been in a pissy mood all week. Loki chuckles. “Oh, I fear no one, but I’m not suicidal.”

The first sign that Loki was a soft boy wasn’t anything big or particularly mushy. He stopped on the street and got down on one knee to help a boy whose laces had come undone and was struggling to do them up himself.

RATING: T

NOTES/WARNINGS: I entirely forgot about this one-shot in my drafts. I kinda lost steam with it and I decided to post it kind of unedited, so there should be errors and boring valleys galore! Language! Reference to suicide.

SUMMARY: Lily is usually a sweetheart, but there’s a bit of poison flowing through her veins, right now. Meanwhile, Loki has a short bout of good conscience.

“Where are you going?”

Lily jumped, startled, immediately grimacing as her left shoulder smarted. Her arm was in a sling, having crash-landed onto it during a mission last week. The medic had said that she had likely torn one of the tendons in her rotator cuff, but that they would not be able to do anything about it until the swelling came down. Now, her whole arm lay useless in its cloth cradle while the other side bore the weight of bags and baskets.

“Um…,” she hesitated in her place, unsure as to why she was feeling a little like a schoolgirl caught out doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Well, maybe it was the fact that Stark had told her I don’t want you doing anything for the next month… “I was just going to the bodega. I’m out of snacks.”

“No.”

For a second, they stood in silence, staring each other down while she waited to see if there was going to be anything added to his sentiment. “That’s it?” He nodded, looking bored. “Yeah, I’m not a child. I’m going to the bodega.”

Loki groaned. “Lilian…”

“Not my name, dude.” She made the mistake of bumping into his shoulder with her injured side. On any other occasion, with any other human, it would have been no issue. Loki, however, seemed to be as dense as the center of a collapsing star, and though he barely swayed from his spot, she let out a sharp hiss and gritted her teeth painfully.

“You humans are so pathetically feeble, I swear,” he remarked, bending at the knees to gently prod at her shoulder. “Give me the list, I’ll collect your supplies.”

“No,” she replied, instantly, imitating his haughty tone, perfectly.

“Don’t be a child. I can go there and back faster than you can.”

Baby blues shot up and hardened at him. “What do you need? What leverage are you trying to get?” Loki frowned, tilting his head minutely to explore her incensed semblance. “You know what? I don’t care. I don’t need to be coddled. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“I didn't–”

“Leave me alone!” With the last shouted syllable, her veins glowed bright green and thorns seemed to sprout from every bit of her skin. Loki held his hands up in surrender, and took a step back for good measure.

With one last withering look, she skirted past his imposing form, and pressed the elevator call button. The doors opened almost instantly, and she slipped in, pressing the button for the ground floor. She did not expect, however, for the elevator to dip slightly under the weight of another person. Despite the fact that she had not seen Loki follow her to the hallway, he was standing there, silently, a few feet between them as they rode the elevator down in silence.

At the lobby, he waited for her to exit the car first, following like a spectre right after. They had made it half a block before Lily could no longer resist the urge to scream, and she turned on her heel to face a calm Loki.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Loki fought the smile creeping onto his lips for a bare minute. “Accompanying you. I thought that much was obvious.”

“I don’t. Need. A babysitter.”

“Never said you did, flower,” he riposted, off-handedly before he gestured her ahead.

Letting out a barely restrained groan, she stomped her way back down the street towards the bodega. Loki, for the most part, followed silently, gently fetching things from the top shelf that he knew she was trying to get to, crowding her side when other people got a little too close, generally treating her like she was a porcelain doll about to shatter.

It was annoying the shit out of her.

The bodega owner had barely reacted when she slammed her basket down and unpacked her groceries to pay for them. Her usually charming, chummy demeanor was extinct and replaced by a surly, snarled lip. Why would he be doing this? Was it just to drive home the point that he thought she was incompetent? Weak? Whatever it was, it was gnawing at her very soul and all she wanted to do was to go back to the tower and hide in her room until her shoulder had recovered.

Snatching her receipt from the bodega owner, she turned away from the counter. “Let’s get moving, Snakeb… Loki?” She glanced left and right, not finding him there, nor could she feel the heaviness of his presence anywhere around her. She glanced out the glass doors and found her missing demigod on the sidewalk. A child of about five or six, who was clearly waiting for his mother to get through with her transaction at the bodega, stood still with a gentle smile. Loki was down on one knee, equally easy grin on his face with a shoelace in either hand.

“I’ll show you again. Pay close attention, alright?” He pulled the strings up taut and made two loops. “Around the trunk of Yggdrasil, the little rabbits go, they twine around the knitted roots and sink deep down below. After they have had their fun they jump up to spring free, but every part of their spirit’s tied to the Great Tree,” he singsonged, knotting the laces easily. “Got that?”

The child nodded, giggling before going off with his mother who was looking at Loki a little too hard to be comfortable.

Loki glanced up, sensing Lily staring and offered her a smile she didn’t return. “Are you ready?”

“You taught him how to tie his shoes.”

He brushed aside her prickly tone, unbothered. “Yes… is that a crime, now?”

“Why?”

“He didn’t know how.” He shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“I thought you didn’t like weak things.”

“You know, at some point you’re going to have to tell me why you’re so cross at me.” He snapped, finally, though he didn’t look angry. Disappointed, maybe? Sometimes it was damn near impossible to place any emotion on his face that wasn’t blind rage.

“I heard you talking to Tony, OK? When I was taken to the medbay, she snapped back with double the fervor.

Loki sighed, counting backwards from ten. He was fond of the mutant and he didn’t want to frighten her by barking at her, as he would anyone else. "Despite what you might think, that doesn’t help explain anything.”

“You told Tony I was weak and didn’t belong in the field!” She shrieked, pushing her index finger into his chest. It hurt her more than it did him, but it was a matter of principle.

“No. I told him it was stupid to send you out to the field to somewhere you’d become weak. Foot-thick steel walls zap your energy and I warned him repeatedly about the repercussions. You got hurt because of it.”

Her anger sputtered and idled at the clarification. “You were looking out for me…?”

Loki laughed, a little mirthlessly. “Imagine that,” he replied, sarcastically. He reached out for her basket, carrying the snack-laden vessel himself to give his hands something to do as he marched stoically down the street. People seemed to sense his mood, as they all parted like the Red Sea for him, though they barely allowed her enough space to squeeze through. Glancing backwards, he caught her eye, slowing his pace considerably to allow her to catch up.

“But… you hate me.”

A little notch formed between his brows as he considered her closely. “When have I ever said that? You’re my friend. I don’t make friends with people I hate… Or people… Or make friends, in general, so you should count yourself very bloody lucky.”

Lily shuffled uncomfortably where she stood, and Loki could have sworn there was a flash of a shadow over features, but it was gone a moment after.

“Can we go back or are you going to stand here and glare at me some more?” He joked easily, gesturing down the street with his chin. The mood seemed to lighten, instantly. He didn’t pay her transient anger any mind.

Perhaps he should have.

The Tower was tense, to put it simply. Laughter, which was commonplace whenever the team was home, was nothing more than a distant memory. It seemed like every little noise and movement set off a chain reaction of unpleasantness from what was usually their most pleasant resident. No one had really expected this side effect. After all, when the mutant decided to tell Tony her secret after having worked for him for five years, she assured that she had it well under control. And it was. Her abilities were second nature at this point. Of course, the pressures of battle are something else, entirely, and little quirks popped up just as little quirks are wont to do.

And pop up, they did.

The first time it happened, the team had come back from mission somewhere in the South Pacific. They were all tired and sun-baked enough that if they never saw the great wide ocean ever again, it would be too soon. Heroes all piled into the kitchen with far too many containers of Chinese food, chatting in quiet hushed tones to give their raw throats and over-sensitive ears a chance to rest.

In the far end of the kitchen, Lily stood on her tip toes. Her small frame strained to reach a mug at the very top of the cabinet so she could make herself some tea. Steve, helpful and gentlemanly as ever, rested a hand on the small of her back to signal her that he was there. Reaching above her, he easily grasped the mug, offering her the handle with a dazzling smile.

Usually, she would beam up at the soldier and give his hand a squeeze. Today, her eyes narrowed dangerously. “What, do you think I can’t fucking get a mug now, Rogers?” She snapped, and the soft murmur of the room cut out immediately.

As if in slow motion, they whole team craned their necks over to where the pair stood. Steve had frozen in well-placed shock, mouth opening and closing to grasp for an appropriate apology that he couldn’t understand why he owed. Guilt flashed for but a second across Lily’s features before she cracked her neck awkwardly. Her veins, which would glow a bright green only when using her abilities, pulsed a sludgy brown. She had barely mumbled an apology before going off to hide in her bedroom.

That first encounter had been the mildest, by far.

No one had any idea how to remedy the situation. After all, Lily was usually such a bundle of bright, brilliant energy. She was the one who would always wake up to make breakfast for the group, leave them flowers, bake cookies when one of them seemed sad–she was not a dark, angry entity that yelled at her fellow teammates. Or snarled at anyone for entirely arbitrary reasons (that was Loki’s job, after all). The attitude usually waned after a few days and she’d be back to her bubbly self, which was all the more terrifying.

Right now, however, they were in a dark period.

“Are you truly using a children’s game as a selection tool for whom has to go disturb the plant witch from her self-imposed exile?” Loki asked, a little smugly as he happened upon Natasha and Tony playing Rock, Paper, Scissors to take Lily her new uniform. “You’re pathetic.”

“Don’t act like the sudden goth girl phase isn’t weird. I can tell she scares you,” Nat quipped, rolling her eyes.

Loki gave her a withering stare, looking smug as he circled her in a predatory manner that annoyed the hell out of her. “I fear no one and nothing, Miss Romanov.”

Tony snorted, before a glimmer in his eye sparked and left Loki looking weary. “OK, great. How about you go take this to her, then?” Tony held the bundle for Loki to take.

Loki chuckled, knowing full well the terror that the woman could inflict if provoked. “I said I feared nothing. I didn’t say I was suicidal.” He considered a little longer. “Well, not anymore, anyway.” Tony frowned, making a mental note to follow up at a later date.

“Come on! You two seem to be all buddy-buddy the rest of the time, anyway. Why don’t you just look in on her?”

The god rolled his eyes. “Has it ever occurred to you idiots that perhaps she’s protecting us and not herself when she locks herself away?”

“You are absolutely no help. Fine, Nat–” Tony turned around, sweeping his gaze left and right. “Nat? Where the hell did Nat go?” Frowning, he turned back around to glance at Loki and, instead, found himself alone. “Yeah! Great! Let's… er… regroup later! Good… talk…”

Loki sat at the kitchen table, poking at the, frankly disgusting, plate of eggs and bacon that Bruce had genuinely put all his effort into making for the crew. Glancing around the table, he found a sea of faces with the same sad expression. They all definitely longed for Lily’s pancakes and bacon breakfasts right about then. Loki was the only one who wasn’t even making an effort to be polite and put down some of the meal down his gullet. He had eaten some pretty grim things in his life, but he was not about to make that conscious decision when he wasn’t under any type of duress.

“It’s been two weeks, Tony,” Clint quipped, oddly undisturbed by the state of breakfast and munching full speed ahead. “She’s never been dark for this long.”

“I know. Is this you volunteering?”

“Last time I volunteered, I nearly got impaled on barbed thorns the size of my arm. I barely made it out without looking like Swiss cheese.”

“Barbs?” Loki asked, tilting his head curiously.

Clint nodded, eyes widening. “Yep. Big ones.”

Tony caught the whiff of an idea brewing in Loki’s mind. “Why? What are you thinking, Reindeer Games?”

Loki frowned, waving off the interest. “Nothing. Making a rather satisfying image in my head,” he replied, earning him a dark look from Clint and an annoyed sigh from the rest of the table. It wouldn’t do well to get their hopes up, after all.

After breakfast, Loki found himself pacing the corridor of their living quarters. Lily was only a few doors down and had not seen much of anyone in the whole two weeks since they had gotten back from mission. His brain continually told him that there was nothing he could do, no way for him to remedy this situation. That whatever this state of being was, he would only make it worse. It was better if he just went back to his room and waited for her to seek him out.

And yet, there was a small little voice in the back of his mind, his conscience, he would begrudgingly admit, that urged him to knock on her door.

She would go to the ends of the earth for you, if you needed it, it soothed.

The thought sparked images of the annoyingly sweet woman keeping his handful of secrets and being genuinely interested in his life. He could admit that his conscience was speaking the truth, but only because he knew the imp had little in the way of common sense and self-preservation. This was not the creature hissing at them all from across the threshold, though. And, why would he willingly put himself in the line of fire?

Out of the corner of his eye, a figure caught his attention. A vase of flowers on the windowsill, one of her creations. They were no longer the fresh white daisies they had been when they were placed there. Now they looked like some sort of Nightshade and he was certain they were not the nice kind.

“Oh, you fucking bleeding heart,” he ground out with a groan just as his conscience won out. Without allowing himself time to think or change his mind, he pounded his fist on her door. “Open up or I’ll break it down, Lilian.”

“Fuck off, popsicle!” Her voice was rough and shuddering, like she was trying very hard to keep everything out–or herself in.

Loki swallowed at the venomous retort that brewed at the tip of his tongue on its own accord. Being the bigger person was never quite his forte (nor did it ever get him good results), but he was able to reign himself back in. Rolling his eyes, Loki placed his hand on the door, letting the golden glow of magic envelop it before a satisfactory click let him know that it was open. He had barely crossed the threshold when he jumped back with a yelp.

On the floor, where flowers usually formed a dense, soft carpet, were twisting brambles and thorns. Flytraps and pitcher plants lined the walls, all too large to be considered just houseplants, and blooms burst open, letting out plumes of pollen that Loki dared not to breathe.

This was definitely worse than what he was expecting.

His eyes tore away from the dark forest with a little effort. “Lily,” he tutted softly, watching the woman tucked into a tight ball, tears leaking from her tightly lidded eyes.

It should have been obvious to him. Every living creature had a defense mechanism. Predators had their teeth, prey had their speed, and plants had adapted in similar fashion. Thorns, barbs, poison, giant vats of acid–they had made sure that their lineages survived. It stood to reason that Lily’s mutation, tired of the fighting and the constant worry of missions would also develop some dark effect. Since she wasn’t allowing herself to be dry and acerbic to her friends, her biology had found an alternate solution.

He should have thought of it before.

“Gods, how much pain are you in?” He asked, kneeling beside her on the bed. He ignored the spines digging into his trousers from where he walked through some cacti. There was no response, but rather a whimper and a sigh. “Flower, look at me.”

“Leave me alone, you self-aggrandizing asshole,” she growled, not bothering to open her eyes.

The corner of his mouth twitched, even as he pushed her hair out of her scowling face. It had gone from a bright silver to a dark, smoky grey. “You forgot self-serving and maddeningly good looking.”

“You’re not funny.”

“Agree to disagree.” At his touch her skin erupted in prickers as though they were goosebumps. He swallowed the hiss at getting his fingers skewered, blood pooling at the tips.

Lily’s fists flew in his direction, though he easily caught them in one hand. This time the groan of pain wasn’t silent and blood trickled down his wrists from his palms. “Stop it! Don’t touch me! FRIDAY, he’s hurting me!”

“Disregard that, FRIDAY. Lily, I swear–” She struggled in his grasp, eyes opening and flashing pitch black at him. He was shocked enough that he released her wrists. Her nails grew into sharp wooden talons and just as she reared back to swipe at him, Loki had enough sense to lay his hand on her temple and command, “Sleep.” Her body stiffened and slumped down a second later. “That bloody stings,” he complained, letting her rest back on the bed and bringing the covers over her oddly cool skin.

Loki couldn’t help but compulsively stroke his fingers through her hair, eyebrows pulled together in concern. For all his knowledge of magic and aliens and different realms, he could not figure out for the life of him how to soothe the poison threatening to consume her. In her slumber, she whimpered, shuffling closer to the gentle heat that radiated off of him in waves. Loki convinced himself that he was allowed to dote on her, so long as she wasn’t conscious to remember it. The sludgy brown lines going up and down her exposed skin lightened somewhat under his careful evaluation. Enough that he did not feel threatened when he tapped at her temple and took the sleeping spell off.

He offered a small smile when her eyes blinked up at him in confusion. They were back to their normal baby blue, though her hair still resembled plumes of smoke. “Easy,” he whispered as she jerked away from his touch, all at once. Instead of a hiss or an insult, she frowned, settling back to rest against the pillows, body barely brushing against his. “You’re safe.”

Lily nodded, breathing deeply. This time she didn’t hesitate when he brushed his fingers over her hair. “What are you doing?”

“Tending the garden.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated. “I’m not a garden.”

“Yeah, you are. A few brambles and prickles here and there. Nothing a good prune and a hug won’t fix.” He used his index finger to lift her chin, having essentially buried herself into one of her pillows, cheeks burning. “You don’t have to keep us safe, flower. Sometimes, you’ll need to vent all that ill will and it is not up to you to avoid that.”

“Says the frost giant masquerading as an Asgardian.”

Loki let out a bark of laughter. “I think I liked you more unconscious.” Sadness flashed through her features, eyes downcast. “I was joking. You know I was.”

Lily nodded and the two fell into a tense silence for a long while. The mutant had sat up, fidgeting with her hands on her lap while Loki watched her, expectantly. He wouldn’t press her, of course, but he could tell that there was something on her mind that she wanted to get out in the open. When she didn’t say anything, he simply placed his hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m scared,” she blurted out.

“Well, you’re very scary so that makes sense.” The look she gave him told him that was not the answer she wanted and before she could look even more dejected, he added. “And that’s good. You’re powerful. You should be scary. Scary keeps you safe. Fear is a great motivator.”

Loki was starting to panic. It didn’t seem like any of what he was saying was helping her, though it was possibly the most honest and candid he had ever been. If anything, the quickly gathering tears in her eyes told him that he was making it leaps and bounds worse. Shouldn’t she be ecstatic that she could make anyone bend to their will by looking a little ominous? She certainly had the whole of the Avengers acting like she was some sort of displeased deity.

Except she wasn’t. She was gentle and giving and cared. It was becoming very apparent that this was her own personal hell.

“I don’t fear you,” he muttered, brushing hair away from her face. This time there were no barbs to prick him. “And honestly, the rest of these idiots don’t, either. They’re just worried for you.”

“I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Maybe because there’s nothing to fix. I’m guessing that with a little training you can learn to use… whatever the hell this is to your advantage.” His mouth twitched in a small smile. “Sometimes you must learn to embrace the darkness, dear.”

Lily was quiet for another long while, picking at her nails while she thought hard. “Loki?”

“Yes, pet?”

“Can I have a hug if I promise not to tell anyone?”

Loki barked out a laugh, pulling Lily into his arms and squeezing her tightly. “I don’t give a shit if you tell anyone. They probably won’t believe you, anyway,” he murmured into her hair, noting the soot-like material that clung to his fingers as he stroked her hair, turning it back to silver. “Don’t suppose you know if this is dangerous or not?” Lily shook her head against his chest. “Of course you don’t. Why would you?” The mutant giggled against him when he squeezed her a little tighter.

“Loki?” The Prince hummed his recognition against her crown. “Thank you for being a good friend.”

It took Loki supreme effort to blink away the tears that for some reason had sparked to his eyes, unbidden, at the sentiment. “It is my distinct honor, flower.” Comfortable silence filled the room for a moment longer. “I also couldn’t take Bruce’s cooking for another day.”

Lily scoffed, pushing away from his chest with a glare. “Why? Why do you ruin it?”

“Have you met me? Come on!”

“I hate you. Next time I’m poisoning you,” she whined, pulling Loki after her.

“Where are we going?”

“I can tell you haven’t eaten because you’re a child. We’re going to the kitchen.”

Loki grinned, following dutifully after her, as if the imp had any physical means to drag him anywhere. “Do I get pancakes?”

“No!”

“Please?”

“…fine.”

#Loki #Angst #Others #Submitted one shot #submission #Toxic #Fanfictrashdump

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unmaskedagain · 4 years

Text

A wolf’s job

Okay so I got this request from @ dark-chocolate-fudge-sweetracer . They more or less wanted me to write a OC/Kagami dating Au. They didn’t give me too much a prompt so I had a lot room to move. Normally, I would NEVER do an OC protagonist for a fanfic. But the requester was really sweet about it so I thought WHY NOT. Lol. However, it did turned out that the one thing I dislike doing more than writing a sequel is writing an main protagonist OC. In fact I really struggled with it. So this will be the first and last time I do.

Fair warning Adrien salt ahead

He arrived on a Tuesday. It was an even bet at who was more surprised to see him. The class when they got to school and saw yet another new student in their class. Kagami, the last transfer student and his childhood friend, who he never told he was coming. Or perhaps even Reizo himself. He never expected to see his crush in his new class. He never expected her to be friends with the very people he had been sent to judge.

His face turned bright red, “Hey!” Reizo smiled brightly. “What a surprise.”

Kagami gave him an unimpressed stare that sent shivers through him. For a fifteen-year-old girl, she was really scary. “Quite so. Like you coming to Paris without informing me.”

Ouch. Yeah, she was going to kill him. It wouldn’t be a nice death either. Before he could try to come up with a good excuse, one that was him admitting only being there to check the worthiness of the current Miraculous users, Kagami marched right passed him.

Kagami and Reizo had been introduced through their parents who were work colleagues. Neither could remember when they actually met as they had been toddlers at the time but they had pretty much been a constant in each other’s life. And somewhere along the line, feelings developed. However, before anything could happened, Kagami moved to Paris.

She was the main reason he had taken the mission from the council. The chance to see her in person instead of video chat. He missed her.

She sat sit in the back with a bluenette he knew to be the hero Ladybug. The two were quickly joined by a pretty blond who sneered at the rest of the class.

As class began, the black hair, black eyed boy quickly realize something was… off. Wrong. The entire class seemed to be in a cold war; frequently glares were sent to the three girls in back. Said girls returned them with icy looks of their own.

Reizo would try his best not to get involved but he would make it clear where he stood; with Kagami. She was his oldest friend, his confidante, and (if he played his cards right) perhaps his future wife.

Throughout the day, the other students in class tried to pull him away from Kagami; swearing she and the other two girls (Marinette and Chloe were bullies.) Then it was Reizo’s turn to give out unimpressed looks.

After school, the young Yamato heir found himself fighting for his life. He had gone over to Kagami’s to apologize; though it was hard trying to explain that it never even crossed his mind to tell her he was coming to Paris. She knew he was a bit of airhead sometimes. Forgetful. Even more so when he had a task to do.

Though again, it wasn’t like he could tell her that the council of Guardians sent him to judge Ladybug and Chat Noir, both in and out of their masks, to determine if they were worthy to wield the two most powerful miraculous in existence. And to take them back, if he found that they were not.

The council had heard… rumors, and found they could no longer trust Master Fu’s word alone that he had chosen correctly.

Kagami seemed to accept his apology. He thought she forgave him, only to for Kagami to drag him to her training room, throw him a sword, and proceed to beat the crap out of him.

Normally, Reizo stood a much better chance. He had been training with a sword almost as long as Kagami had. It was a family tradition; one he came to adore as he grew older. One that resulted in him collected replica swords from movies; a lot of swords. Like a lot.

However, Kagami seemed to have rage fueling her every step. He never stood a chance. Mostly because she had always been a better swordsman than him. Partly because he was a little in awe at how battle just seemed to enhance her beauty.

After the fight, Reizo finally got ask the question that had been burning in the back of his mind all day, “What the hell is wrong with your class?”

Kagami sighed, “They’re morons,” She said. “They have fallen under the thrall of a liar named Lila. She has made out to be villains because we refuse to be fooled like the rest. The other students, as a result, have exiled us.”

“Why don’t you tell everyone she’s lying?”

She shook her head, “We have tried. They care not for the truth; only for the glitz, glamor, and promises Lila’s makes,” The Asian girl explained. “Marinette tried for the longest out of us all. However, eventually, even she conceded defeat. I’ve known her for almost three years, and it was the first time Marinette ever gave up on something. Or anyone.”

Kagami went on to tell everything that she had witnessed since coming to Bustier’s class. The lies, the insults, the lack of having a proper teacher. She even revealed that she used have a crush on a kid in her Adrien.

However, she was quick to add that the crush had faded quite some time ago.

The class ending their friendships with Marinette happened around the same time that Marinette and Kagami’s crush on Adrien Agreste died. The blond had been upset that both girls kept saying Lila was lying and advised them on taking the high road. Kagami could see the situation for exactly what it was… Adrien didn’t want to risk ending up the same as Marinette; near friendless, ostracized, and all but public enemy number 1 to the rest of the class. He was a coward.

The former rival in love, turned best friends, lost interest in the handsome blond boy quickly after that. As far as they were concerned Lila could have him.

Nevertheless, Kagami still considered Marinette giving up as a dark day for Paris. Though she and Chloe both knew it was for the best. Marinette had been a bit naïve to the realities of the world. The cold realization that the betrayal from her friends had awoken something in the Bluenette. A fire that refused to be extinguished.

No longer was Dupain-Cheng’s anyone doormat. Kagami had watched her best friend run herself ragged trying to help everyone with every little thing; always putting herself and her needs last. Marinette resigned as class president at the beginning of the year; saying she wanted to focus on the website she had launched for her designs. Free commissions were over. Marinette advised that they review her website for prices. She was sure to remind the new class president, Alya, that it was now the reporter’s duty to remember birthdays, organize trips, and fundraise. The free ride was over.

The class had shrugged it off; not caring or realizing exactly what Marinette was saying. Until Rose needed a new dress and Marinette referred the blonde girl to her website. When she received glares, Marinette was quick to remind everyone she was now technically running her own business. She couldn’t give away anything for free.

As days and weeks went on, he steered clear of the drama of the class which was hard to do as he chose to align himself with Kagami, Marinette, and Chloe. Still, Reizo was happy with his choice. He got to spend time with the girl of dreams. And he was pretty sure he ended up on something that might’ve been a triple date. Marinette with a handsome blond from another class named Felix Culpa. Chloe with a green haired boy named Luka. Kagami and Reizo. They went to the movies, got ice cream, and the pairing seemed to drift away from each other as the “group outing” went on.

However, it wasn’t until the day after the maybe date, when Reizo arrived to class, smiled at Kagami, who was in the process of being teased by Marinette and Chloe over something, and she blushed… That he thought maybe, just maybe, she liked him back.

Reizo paid close attention the actions of Adrien and Marinette. He used his own Miraculous a pair of cuff links that held a chubby grey Wolf Kwami named Pawz to watch the actions of Ladybug and Chat Noir from the shadow every time they fought. He recorded every fight and submitted it to the council. The videos left the elders with a lot of concerns. Mostly about Master Fu’s competency as guardian.

Ladybug was great. She was strong. She was capable. She was smart. However, most importantly she took her role as protector of Paris seriously.

Chat Noir, on the other hand, did not. He was rash and prone to jumping into situation (sometimes while Ladybug was trying to come up with a plan.) He clearly needed a class on sexual harassment in the work place. Most of the time he acted like a spoiled brat when Ladybug didn’t return his advances.

Reizo’s job was to only observe, provide evidence to the council, and cast judgement.

However, there was only so far he could be pushed.

He had been watching Ladybug fight a particularly nasty and powerful akuma. He had waited for Chat Noir to appear; and waited, and waited. When he finally showed, both Reizo and Ladybug breathed a sigh of relief.

…Until Chat Noir literally laid down on a roof instead of joining the fight. Ladybug begged for help. Chat Noir mentioned something about her missing their date, and that he wouldn’t help until she apologized.

“I never agreed to the date,” Ladybug said. “I don’t like you like that, Chat. I told you.”

Chat glared, “You refusing to admit your feelings has gone too far,” He said. “Until you do, you can save Paris by yourself!” Then he was gone.

That was the last straw.

Reizo charged at the Akuma with all his might; knocking it off balance and allowing Ladybug a chance to swing away from danger. The two hero fought side by side with ease. When they finally defeated the monster, Ladybug looked at the wolf-themed hero curiously.

“Who are you?” She asked the new masked hero.

“Shadow,” He answered. “The council of Guardian sent me to review the chosen wielders of the miraculous to determine their worthiness.”

Ladybug nodded. Fu had warned her that the council had taken an interest in the Parisian heroes. Eventually, he said, they would send someone to test them.

“The Council has made their decision,” He said. “You have proven yourself worthy, and will be given guardian training this summer.”

A happy looked appeared on the heroine’s face.

Shadow gave her a hard look, “Tell Master Fu that Chat Noir will be stripped of his miraculous. Please advise the guardian to ready himself to explain exactly why he thought Adrien Agreste was a good choice.”

#ml salt #adrien salt #marinette dupain cheng

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labyrinthof-fan-fiction · 4 years

Text

I’m Glad There is You

Bucky x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky has to go to an event at the museum honoring the Captain America crew. As he is the only one still on the record as being alive of the original group he is an honored guest, he brings you as his date. Post Endgame. Sam is Captain now.

A/N: ANOTHER INSPIRED BY VIC DAMONE’S ALBUM THAT TOWERING FEELING AREN’T Y’ALL SHOCKED?!?!?! In all seriousness though I’m obsessed with older music right now and keep relating it to fiCs so this is what happens. I needed a happy Bucky fic after writing so much angst so this is what I came up with. So Sinatra also sang this so, there’s that, but we’re going to give love to Vic’s ‘I’m Glad There is You.’

Vic Damone Facts: He was drafted and served in the army from 1951-1953. His father played guitar and mother played the piano. He recorded around 2,500 songs over the course of 54 years.

Warnings: Mentions of trauma, character deaths.

Word Count: 3,183

Disclaimer: I don’t own Marvel, The Avengers, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, ‘I’m Glad There is You.”

“Doll, you ready?” Bucky’s voice rang out through your shared apartment.

“Almost!” You called out, closing the clasps on your earrings. You ran your hands down your dress, pressing out a stubborn wrinkle that had appeared when you were putting the finishing touches to your makeup. You slipped on your heels, which you knew you were going to regret later tonight, but that was a problem for future Y/N. You exited your bed room to see Bucky pacing by the door. “Buck?” You asked.

He turned and his eyes widened at the sight of you. “Doll, you look beautiful.” He said, closing the gap between the two of you to wrap his arms around your waist and press a quick kiss to your forehead. You sensed something off with him, based on the erratic rhythm of his heartbeat and the emotional waves you could feel flying off him.

You smiled up at him, “Thank you, are you okay?” You asked, concerned that this event would bring up feelings that he had been processing for a while.

“I’m good.” He answered quickly. “Just nervous, I feel like I shouldn’t be a part of this. The Winter Soldier shouldn’t be the same place as Captain America.”

You cut him off, “You have every right to be there, as a Howling Commando, as Steve Roger’s best friend, and as one of the hero’s who saved the universe from a raging purple lunatic. Besides, we can’t miss an event that has free food.”

He chuckled. “I guess you’re right.”

“I know I am.” You winked, turning to the door. “Sam’s here.”

Bucky sighed, “Here we go.” He offered his arm to you as you made your way to the door. He opened the door before Sam had the chance to knock.

“I hate when you two do that, damn.” He grumbled, he stood before the two of you in a black tuxedo.

“Someday you’ll sneak up on us.” You said with a wink.

“Not likely.” Bucky muttered.

A limo was parked in front of your apartment building. You raised your eyebrows at Sam. “Don’t look at me. Pepper insisted that we take a limo and I wasn’t going to argue with her.”

You nodded, it had been almost a year post Thanos. Pepper was strong, but no one wanted to argue with her after losing Tony. Perhaps they had given her maybe too much power over their existence. But her husband had sacrificed himself for the entire universe. So she could take all the time she needed to heal.

Sam slid in first, followed by you, then Bucky. You sat sandwiched between the two men, who had come to some as semblance of friendship in the time since Sam was given the shield. You knew Bucky was not jealous of Sam by any means, he did not want any part of being Captain America. Helping Sam, that he could do. In some odd ways he seemed to believe it atoned for his sins as the Winter Soldier. You leant back in your seat, the limo filled with silence, which was rare for these two. You wondered what the deal was.

Bucky shifted so his hip was no longer against his, he mentally smacked himself as you gave him an odd look. It wasn’t like him to pull away from any kind of contact, he glanced up and Sam smirked at him. What he would give to be able to throttle him……. But that was not going to be the focus of his night, you were. The velvet box in his pocket grounding him. He watched you settle into conversation with Sam and remained silent.

He had met you during the time of conflict between Tony and Steve. You had pulled him back when Steve and Tony were at each other’s throats. You had pushed him behind you when they got closer. He was confused, to say the least, first that someone would protect him, and that person would be human. At least, that was what he had thought you where when he first met you. After being in Wakanda, he realized that you weren’t entirely a human. You had telepathic abilities, which was why you had been there when they took him out of the cryostasis.

You had been able to sense the links in his brain that had been set up by Hydra. Your abilities to sense helped the Wakandan team to begin working on his mind. You stayed with him through his recovery, often showing up to his hut in the middle of the night when he was pulled back into his memories, back to the Soldier. One night would remain in his memories eternally.

He was taken back to the night that he was deep in a Soldier nightmare. The nightmare of the Starks. He was slipping, he could feel the Soldier clawing at the door he had slammed shut and locked. No, no, not again. He was thrust into the past against his will.

“Barnes?” You had felt a shift in him, back into the Soldier. You entered his hut cautiously. He didn’t answer, you could feel the energy swirling around him, darkness swallowing the light. You stopped outside his bedroom door, you had always felt apprehension at passing through his room, but you couldn’t let that stop you. You pushed into his room, he was in the center of the bed, covers thrown to the side. His hand wrapped tightly in the sheets. Sweat coated his body, his dark hair sticking to his forehead.

“NO!” He screamed, your heart breaking at his voice.

You wasted no more time staring at him, “Barnes,” You murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed, next to his hand. You reached out with your mind. “Come back, Barnes.”

You were thrown into his mind, feeling his panic, his shame. The Soldier turned to you, as he often did, you could feel the snarl it gave. James began to calm to ground himself, reaching out to your energy, retreating from the Soldier. You felt the Soldier return to his locked door.

His eyes opened and they took in the woman sitting on the edge of his bed. “Y/N.” He whispered, his hand reaching out and grasping yours. His fingers threaded through yours, this was the first thing he always did when he was pulled out of his Soldier nightmares. He craved contact and you wouldn’t deny him that.

“Welcome back, Barnes.” You said, brushing your thumb against the back of his hand. “Where did you go?”

“The 90s, the Starks.” He turned away from you, “I should have let Tony kill me.”

You removed your hand from his and reached out, placing your hand on his face and turning his eyes back to yours. “It wasn’t you, it was the Soldier. It was what they created.” You murmured, stroking his cheek. His hand reached up and he pushed your hand away.

“But he is a part of me, and I couldn’t stop him.” Tears collected in his grey eyes.

“It takes time to fight your inner demons. And yours were supercharged and given the chance to run your life. Having demons doesn’t make you inherently evil.” You stated, moving further onto his bed, placing your hands on either side of his face. “In the heart of it all you are a good man.”

He let out a sob, “I….”

“Do not even start that bullshit with me. I have looked inside of you, you know what I’ve seen? A man who will go to the ends of the world to protect those he loves. A man who gives so much more than he gets. A man who survived hell and came back up.” You snarled, E/C eyes unmoving as you stared into his. “You are a damn good man and I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you against his bare chest, he burrowed his face into your hair. This was something unspoken between the two of you. The contact, the feelings. But he always pushed you away. If there was one person in the universe he could not afford to hurt it was you. “Please don’t go.” He begged.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You murmured, reaching out with your mind to soothe him. You felt his heartbeat slow and his breathing turn to soft snores. Your pulse synced with his as his hand made its way up to your back.

This is where you had found yourself most nights. Wrapped in his arms listening to the sound of his slumber, using your abilities to guard him from the Soldier. Bucky’s subconscious mind was more susceptible to allowing a takeover. If your telepathy could bring him enough peace to get sleep.

Multiple times through this Shuri had found you wrapped up with Bucky, “You two should just move in together.” She said after she walked in on you wrapped up together in bed after the Stark nightmare.

James’ face turned bright red as he looked at you. Expecting you to fight Shuri on this.

“You know, it might not be such a bad idea. Then I wouldn’t have to do battle with the goats at two o’clock in the morning.” You said, pulling yourself out of his arm and sitting upright on the edge of the bed.

“So it’s settled, we’ll move Y/N’s stuff in today.” Shuri giggled, skipping out of the room.

“You don’t have to do this.” James said.

“When are you going to get this through your head, I want to.” You answered, resting your hand on his cheek. Barnes remained silent on this, you could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Now I have to go get my things, because once Shuri has an idea in her head there is no stopping her, roomie.”

He groaned, knowing you were right. “I’ll start making room for you.” Running his hand through his hair, he sat up. “And you can call me Bucky. People who live together don’t have formalities, doll.”

And that was the moment that you both silently recognized that there was something more than friendship between you.

It was comfortable, living with you. You opened his eyes to everything he had missed from the decades in Soldier Mode. Films, books, and music. No matter how much you introduced him to modern music, he still clung to the styles of the past. On multiple occasions he had pulled you into the yard to dance with him under the stars. Those were his favorite moments with you, just swaying to the music, his past would drift away. Holding you he could feel hope for his future. Peace in his present.

“Buck, baby?” Your voice pulled him from his memories.

“Yeah, doll?” He asked, rubbing his eyes with his flesh hand.

“You ready?” You asked, nodding to the limo’s door. Sam had stepped out, he hadn’t even noticed.

His metal hand wrapped around yours, “I’m ready.”

You entered the museum hand in hand. Nodding to Sam as you passed, a smirk on his face. The museum was filled with people in formal wear. Music floated in from the hall, World War II regalia littering the walls.

Pepper caught sight of the two of you and closed the distance. “James, we’ll have you open the gala with a dance. As the only living original member it’s a great press moment.” She turned on her heel, you and Bucky following her. When you made it to the hall you were impressed. They had opened the center up to allow for a large dance hall. You glanced around the room, highly doubting that you had seen this much red, white, and blue ever in your lifetime.

“Goddamn.” Bucky murmured behind you.

“Pep doesn’t hold back.” You whispered. Taking in the room, a band was set up on stage.

Nervous energy swirled around Bucky, you tightened your grip on his hand, “I’m okay, I promise.” He glanced up at the band, “I’ll be right back.” He made his way over to the singer and shook the man’s hand.

Confusion flooded your system. Bucky, approaching someone, without prompting? Sam came up on your left. “Look at our baby, off on his own. It brings a tear to my eye.”

You reached out and smacked his chest. “Asshole.” You muttered.

“That’s Captain Asshole, thank you very much.”

You rolled your eyes, keeping watch over Bucky, who was smiling and joking with the singer of the band. He was comfortable, you could sense it, even though there was a tinge of nervousness in his system. The Soldier had stayed deep inside him for so long, but old habits died hard and you always kept a tether to Bucky, monitoring. When Bucky had realized this you had expected him to be mad, maybe an outburst of the Soldier, but that never happened. He wrapped you in his arms and thanked you, for protecting him, for backing him up.

Bucky turned back to you and waved, you gave a small wave back to him. “Awwww, you and Frosty, so cute.” A voice came from behind you.

“Shuri! What are you doing here?” You asked giving the young woman a quick hug.

“You think I wouldn’t come to Pepper’s fundraiser?” She answered. You glanced around, realizing that a majority of the Avengers were here. Bruce in the corner, Clint and his wife at the appetizers table, Peter dancing around the room armed with his cell phone. It was odd, you had all been together multiple times since Tony’s funeral. But usually that was for meetings on the state of the world.

Pepper walked up to the microphone on stage, Bucky turning away from the singer to stand next to her. You had to marvel at him, there had been a time when he couldn’t even see Pepper without going into full fight or flight mode. Seeing him standing tall on stage reminded you of how many battles he had won. “Good Evening.” Pepper began, causing the crowd to grow silent. “I would like to thank you all for being here tonight. The preservation of history has always been a passion for Stark Enterprise. Tony would have been so glad to see all of you here. This expansion of the Captain America exhibit will be dedicated to Howard Stark.” She paused and took a breath. Bucky tensed beside her, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “So open your checkbooks, sign on those dotted lines, and remember, donations make great tax write offs.” The crowd chuckled. “To open our gala tonight, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes will open the dance floor.”

“And that’s my cue.” The singer said from the other side of the stage. As Bucky made his way off the stage to you. He held out his hand and you placed yours in his, letting him pull you onto the dance floor. “Sergeant Barnes requested this song for tonight, so here’s hoping I do it justice.”

Bucky pulled you into him, one hand placing yours on his shoulder, then moving to your waist. You rested your head on his shoulder. “So you requested a song for tonight?”

“I did.” He answered. “And that’s only the beginning of the surprises tonight.” His hand tracing circles on your back and the singer began his tune.

“In this world of ordinary people,

Extraordinary people.

I'm glad there is you.”

You breathed in as you listened to the singer’s lyrics, Bucky’s grip tightening on your mid-section, bringing you closer to him. You heard his voice softly singing along with the singer. He had sung a few times before while you were dancing, but you could feel his intent rolling out of him in waves. Your telepathic connection filled with love.

“In this world of over-rated pleasures,

Of under-rated treasures,

I'm so glad there is you.”

“I’m so glad.” He whispered into your hair. “God, doll, you’re the best thing to happen to me.”

“I live to love, I love to live with you beside me,

This role so new, I'll muddle through with you to guide me.”

He guided you around the dance floor, you could feel the eyes of the whole room on the two of you, but you only focused on Bucky. Memories of your days teaching Bucky about technology in Wakanda came up to the surface. You chuckled as you remembered one that ended in a smashed computer and an irate Shuri.

“In this world where many, many play at love,

And hardly any stay in love,

I'm glad there is you.”

“I love you.” He whispered into your hair. His grip loosening as he spun you out then pulled you back against his chest. You looked up into his blue eyes.

“I love you too.”

“In this world where many, many play at love,

And hardly any stay in love,

I'm glad there is you.”

“Which is why I need to do this.” He pulled away from you, nervous energy spiking.

“Buck….”

“It’s okay, doll.” He murmured. Reaching into his pocket and kneeling down onto one knee. The music dimming into a quiet instrumental. “Y/N. I’ve loved you since the first time we met. You have helped me piece myself back into my old self. Teaching me all about the present. So….. Y/F/N, will you marry me?” He opened the box, showing a simple, but beautiful, diamond ring.

“Hmmmm…. That’s a tough one.” You murmured, a small flash of panic racing through his eyes. “Yes, I will marry you.” You answered, bending down and placing a kiss to his lips. He pulled away, a wide smile on his face. He took your hand and slipped the ring on your finger before pulling you back into his chest. The crowd erupted into cheers.

You buried your face in his chest. As you heard Sam yell out, “About damn time!”

You felt Bucky chuckle and the singer’s voice broke through the crowd.

“More than ever, I'm glad there is you.”

Bucky repeated the words into your hair as he rested his head on top of yours. The nervous energy you had sensed from him all night and you felt yourself wrapped in the energy that was just purely Bucky. You noticed Bucky stiffen.

“Babe….?” You asked.

“He came.” He whispered, you glanced up at his face and followed his eyes to the elderly man in the corner of the room. A smile graced the man’s face and he nodded to the two of you. “Steve.”

You looked up at your fiancé. “Go on.” You said, pushing him towards his best friend. You felt tears in your eyes as the men embraced.

“Barnes is a lucky man.” You heard Pepper’s voice behind you.

“No, I’m the lucky one.” You murmured, watching the men looking around the room. Reminiscing no doubt, to the naked eye, it probably looked like a grandson and grandfather. But you knew, it was best friends who finally got their moment to celebrate their victories.

#james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #winter soldier imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x fem!reader

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swtorpadawan · 4 years

Text

Promises

Author’s Notes: The following obviously applies to my main Jedi Knight OC, Corellan Halcyon, but I feel it could apply to a great many JKs, so i’ve used gender-neutral pronouns where possible. Graphics courtesy of Wookiepedia, since i’m away from my screen captures at the moment. The Sith Lord known as Lord Scourge wants Revenge against Vitiate, the Sith Emperor. He wants revenge for what the ancient Sith Lord did to him three hundred years ago, granting him immortality but taking from him everything that made life worth living. He wants revenge for being forced to serve as his personal executioner for all of that time. It is true that Scourge may have started down this long and arduous path out of a sort of enlightened self-interest. Vitiate, Scourge knows full-well, is a threat to the entire galaxy. He has known that from the moment he met him in person so many years ago. The Emperor is a threat to everyone who has ever lived and to everyone who ever will live. But his anger and rage at his ‘Master’ have only deepened over the centuries. Scourge is incredibly fortunate that he burns cold, one of the side-effects that he suffers as the result of Vitiate’s ritual. Were it otherwise, the Emperor would surely have sensed the profound danger that his Wrath represented, and the unrepentant traitor has no illusions as to how that confrontation would end. After the Dromund Kaas operation, Scourge claims to stay with the Defender’s crew simply to be certain that the Emperor has left them no further surprises. But somewhere deep down, Scourge knows that this isn’t the end of it. Something of the Emperor has survived. But he also knows the Jedi Knight will be there to see the prophecy through no matter what it takes. The Knight’s resolve is the equal of Revan’s, of the Exile’s and of Scourge’s himself. Perhaps even greater. And Scourge will therefore aid the Jedi however he can. Lord Scourge stays with the Jedi Knight because they promise him Revenge.

Fidelitin Rusk has been fighting one battle or another for his entire adult life. He is considered ruthless and sometimes even reckless by his fellow Republic soldiers, and sometimes even by his crewmates. Rusk – the third-oldest member of the crew but perhaps the oldest in practical life experience – accepts these assessments without rebuke or defense; he is what he is. His entire mindset was constructed for battles and wars that had to be won regardless of the costs. Rusk has fought so hard and for so long that there are some days when even he starts to forget why he does what he does. Indeed, there are times when Rusk disapproves of the Knight’s choices, believing that they risk too much for others and that they are far too willing to however briefly put aside the greater mission to save even a single life all while the entire galaxy stands at risk.

But deep down, the lost soldier’s only true purpose has only ever been to defend those who cannot defend themselves. He was born and raised by a colony of pacifists; that didn’t stop the Empire from annihilating his people. When he looks at the Jedi Knight – so selfless and so brave, so willing to put themselves on the line for those who need them, he is reminded of the justness of that cause. And as he wins battle after battle and that cause is served, than perhaps everything that Rusk has done has been worth it.

Sergeant Fideltin Rusk stays with the Jedi Knight because they promise him Victory.

Contrary to popular belief, Doctor Archiban Kimble knows perfectly how the rest of the galaxy, and even his closest allies aboard the Defender, view him. The man who calls himself Doc is seen as an arrogant, misogynistic, self-aggrandizing, fame-seeking, womanizing nerf-herder; a man who has left a seemingly endless line of women high and dry over the years, from Prudy and on down the list. Honestly? Doc wouldn’t have it any other way. Letting people believe that he cares so little about his personal relationships gives him a sort of shield against the things in the universe that he doesn’t want to deal with, all while still allowing him to continue to enjoy the things that keep him going.

But a man who worked his through medical school on his own merits and who has consistently chosen to serve as a combat medic on some of the most dangerous planets in the galaxy doesn’t do so just for fame, fortune and women. He could have had all that and lived in style while conducting research projects for a major pharmaceutical company back on Coruscant. No, once upon a time there was a young Archiban who set upon this path, and who did so for far nobler reasons then Doc would ever admit to anyone. Doc doesn’t know how, but for some reason, he knows that when the Jedi Knight looks at him, they see something beyond the broken healer who has put up a shell around themselves. The Knight then offers the medic an opportunity for a more meaningful existence than he could have ever dreamed of.

Doc stays with the Jedi Knight because they promise to always Help others.

Some days, Kira Carsen feels like she’s spent her entire life just trying to be true to who she is in a galaxy that seems determined to force her to become something else. She was raised on Korriban by some of the most sadistic and fanatical Sith in the galaxy, the Children of the Emperor. Every time she sees one of her ‘siblings’ returning to the dormitories with missing pieces of their memory, she cringes and pulls up her blanket around herself. And when Kira returns one night and realizes she can’t remember what happened to her, she knows that soon, there will be nothing left of her identity, either. The survival rate of acolytes who flee the Korriban academy cannot be higher than two percent. Most flee into the wilderness and, when they aren’t immediately hunted down and killed, become ‘broken’, running around in gangs, often going mad. But ten-year old Kira smuggles herself out on an outgoing cargo ship, and a week later she’s on Nar Shaddaa. She sees the suffering of people, there. Those who are unable or unwilling to kick something up to the Hutts quickly find themselves sent down. The slums where refugees congregate are almost as cruel and unforgiving as Korriban. Life is hard, but here, Kira discovers something about herself. Inexplicably, she actually cares about other people; especially the ones who take her in, and who are too weak to fend for themselves against the predators among them. Then Kira meets Bela Kiwiiks and joins the Jedi Order. Kira is unbelievably grateful to Master Kiwiiks. The Togrutta got her off Nar Shaddaa, gave her a home and a place in the galaxy, and has given her a place in the galaxy and the chance to do some good. Master Kiwiiks is like the mother that she never had. Kiwiiks is gently but firmly trying to teach Kira to be the best Jedi she can be.

But as proud as she is to be a Jedi, Kira Carsen is trying to be the best version of herself.

When she meets the Jedi Knight, everything changes very quickly. Somehow, the Knight trusts Kira against the Black Sun at the spaceport on Coruscant, and then later still when they’re hunting down Tarnis. When Master Satele instructs the Knight to take Kira in as a Padawan, Kira is elated. She follows the Knight’s lead, but she feels more like a partner than their apprentice. The Knight talks with her instead of at her, and they learn a great deal about themselves and the galaxy from each other. When Kira’s past is revealed, the Knight supports her unquestioningly; first against Valis, then against Master Jaric Kaedan and finally against the Emperor himself on Darth Angral’s dreadnaught. When Kira finally purges the Emperor from her mind, she feels the Knight reaching out to her, aiding her the entire time.

(All this comes before that night under the stars on Tython, when Kira finally jumps the Knight and they become far more than partners.)

Kira is still herself, learning and growing at her own pace. There are times she questions the Knight’s choices. She groans when they take in Doc and worries a great deal when they let Scourge join. But through it all, the Knight never asks Kira to compromise herself; they never tell her how she should feel or think about anything. The Knight simply asks Kira to trust them. And she does. The doubting Jedi questions many things; but they never question the Knight, because the Knight has never questioned her.

Kira Carsen stays with the Jedi Knight because they promise to let her be Herself , and because they let her become the best version of Herself she can.

T7-O1 – Teeseven to his friends – has served the Jedi Order for decades, and quite frankly, they would be hard pressed to find anyone who has done so with greater devotion. The astromech droid is more than content to carry messages and conduct reconnaissance for the Jedi as they continue to adjust to their home on Tython.

But for the mechanical servant, the most satisfying period of his existence was during the time he served as a companion to Jedi Master Ven Zallow, one of the greatest heroes of the Galactic Republic during the last galactic war. Zallow was a true champion of the ideals of both the Jedi and the Republic, serving with wisdom and strength. The little droid misses those days, fiercely. He knows the work he does for the Order is important, but nothing was more fulfilling than knowing ones actions have helped right a wrong or saved a life.

After ten years of waiting, Teeseven is finally partnered with another hero. This one is even kinder and more powerful than Ven Zallow; they seem to do nothing but sacrifice for others. In the Jedi Knight, Teeseven has found a champion who can save the entire galaxy. Privately, the little droid does worry. He worries that the cruelties of this galaxy will weigh on the Knight, that they will become bitter with loss, and will eventually fall short of their ideals as so many Jedi have before. But Teeseven will be there for the Knight, no matter what. They will follow the Knight into the darkest places in the galaxy, as they blaze a light. They will be the Knight’s friend, and show the Jedi the way. In return, the Knight will help Teeseven be what the droid always wanted to be.

T7-O1 stays with the Jedi Knight because they promise him that they will always be Heroes.

#swtor #t7-o1 #teeseven #kira carsen #fideltin rusk #sergeant rusk #doc swtor #doc #archiban kimble #archiban frodrick kimble #doctor Archiban Kimble #lord scourge #swtor writing #jedi knight #oc: corellan halcyon #corellan halcyon #hero of tython #playing the light side isn't always sexy but it does help

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fantasyoverreality98 · 4 years

Text

Fight the Darkness Pt. 8

Masterlist

Pairing: Gaius x MC

Summary: Together, Amy and Gaius set out for Mydiea, and the two have a conversation about what’s led to this moment.

Word Count: 2,808

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“I think we need to talk.”

Amy frowned, studying the clothes Gaius was wearing as she set her bag down. “Why did you change back into your old outfit?”

“Amy. Focus.” He sighed, looking nervous. “You have not been honest with me.” It wasn’t a question. “I need you to tell me what’s been going on.”

She glared at him, feeling the power stir within. “I thought you trusted me. Since when do I need to tell you everything?”

“I’m trying to help.” Gaius took a step toward her, and Amy moved back.

“You can’t help me! Okay? You don’t understand. You’ll never understand.”

The world around her blurred, flashes of all the death she had caused in the past day streaming through her mind. He would never see the potential. He wanted to control her, to stop her from reaching her full potential. Just like her friends. All of them wanted to keep her weak, to force her to ignore the power that called to her.

Amy turned to flee, but paused when a hand reached for hers.

“Tell me,” Gaius whispered when she glanced back at him, the silent plea in his eyes quieting the rage she felt over him touching her. “I do understand. This isn’t you.”

She shook her head sadly, trying to pull away from his grip. “You don’t understand. You can’t understand.”

Before he could pull her to him, Amy ripped her hand free from his and left the room. She still had a couple hours before the sun began to set. It was just enough time to try and find out what had become of Mydiea. Going back to an island that had been destroyed a quarter of a century ago seemed pointless. She wanted to see if there was anything waiting there for her.

Part of her hoped Gaius wouldn’t go with her. He’d been distant lately, and she didn’t want to be with someone who stayed with her out of some sense of obligation. Either he was with her, or he was against her.

It had been a mistake to seek him out. Amy could see that now. Not only had his presence somehow made the darkness worse, but he didn’t understand like she’d thought he would.

The realization that she was completely and utterly alone seemed to snap the hold the darkness had on her, if only for a moment.

Amy stopped in the middle of the street, ignoring the stares as she shut her eyes. People walked around her, hurrying away when they sensed the otherworldliness entrapped deep inside her body.

This was what you wanted, isn’t it? To find Gaius. To finally rid yourself of this power. To destroy the one thing that understands you. You’re just as pathetic as the rest of them.

The voice was back. Amy took a deep breath and continued walking until she reached the sea again. Water soaked through her shoes, but she didn’t care as she stood at the edge, watching the waves lap against her feet. She felt a pull once more as she stared out to the open water. Somewhere, not far away, was an island. The home of her ancestors. Of Rheya. Of her powers.

Gaius had once said that, in another life, things could have been different between them. She believed the same to be true for Rheya.

“It’s too bad you aren’t here,” Amy said out loud, imagining that Jax was beside her. “You would’ve kicked my ass and told me I was strong enough to overcome this.” She laughed bitterly, casting her eyes to the sky. “Fuck, I miss you so much.”

The only answer she got was the warm breeze over the sea.

Children played a short distance away, shrieking with laughter as they ran through the waves and splashed each other with water. One of them noticed her watching and raised her hand, waving. Amy hesitated before ultimately waving back. Their happiness only made her feel worse.

A monster. That’s what she was. Someone who truly was strong enough to fight the darkness, and was instead making the choice to give in. She liked it. There was no point in denying that when there was no one else around.

“I’m scared.” Her voice blended in with the sounds of the waves and the soft wind.

You should be.

Amy tried to push back against the darkness, but this time it did nothing. It remained. She thought she could sense a gentle caress, a loving touch as it wrapped itself tighter around both her heart and mind. They were becoming one and the same, her and the darkness. There was no escaping it.

Hours later, she still stood by the sea, listening to the waves as they washed over the shore and back. The sun set behind the horizon and blanketed the world in shadow. Amy closed her eyes, smiling as she tried to remember a life without this struggle. She and Lily would’ve remained best friends, and neither of them would have to worry about fighting evil.

She would have found love. Had children. Grown old. Died and stayed dead.

Footsteps swished through the sand, and a tentative hand landed on her shoulder. She already knew who it was, her muscles relaxing under the touch.

“Amy?” Gaius’ voice filled her with sadness, and she broke down when she turned around to face him. Surprise flashed across his face, and he kept his distance, looking uncertain of what to do.

“It’s me,” she said, wiping the tears as they fell. “It’s me.”

He hesitated before moving closer. “We should get going now.”

Amy shook her head, wiping more tears before she stood tall and looked at him. “No. I need to go alone. If something happens, if going to the island only makes me more powerful, you can’t be there. I’ll kill you. Or worse.”

They both knew what would be worse than death, it wasn’t necessary to say it.

“I will not let you go alone. I told you, we’re in this together.”

She hated the way she couldn’t stop crying. The battle within had stopped, but the war was not over. This feeling of control would not last. “Please, Gaius. You need to let me do this alone.”

“No.” He stood across from her, looking exactly as he had twenty-five years earlier when they went to defeat Rheya. There would be no talking him out of it.

“Then you have to kill me.” She reached out and grabbed him when he bristled, the intention of an argument clear on his face. “I mean it. If you see no other way, you need to kill me. Destroy my body so that I can’t come back.”

He sighed, closing his eyes before he nodded. “Alright. How will I do that?”

“I don’t know.” Truth be told, she hadn’t thought anything through.

How could anyone stop her? They didn’t have a way to make her Feral, like they had with Rheya.

Idiot.

“We’ll just have to hope it doesn’t come to that,” Amy said, raising her eyes to meet his. “I’m sorry that our time together was so short.”

Gaius shook his head again, brushing some hair behind her ear. “Do not speak as though our fate has already been decided.”

But they both knew the chances of this ending well were slim. The darkness was supposed to have been destroyed once before, and it still lived on. Why would this time be any different?

“Come on. We know how hard it was to defeat Rheya. I had to stop her. Who’s going to stop me?”

He didn’t answer her question. Amy chewed on her bottom lip as Gaius grabbed her hand and walked her toward a dock farther down the shore. There was a speedboat tied to one of the posts, waiting for them. They stepped onto it and untied the rope, pushing it out to open water. The familiar pull of Mydiea returned as they sailed away from the dock.

“Well, this brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Amy grinned, and was relieved when Gaius’ lips twitched into the hint of a smile while he rolled his eyes.

The moment didn’t last. “So, are you ready to tell me what’s happened?”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to look at me the same after I do?”

Gaius shrugged, looking out at the water. “I doubt I have any right to judge you for what you’ve done. In case you forget, I have done far worse.”

“I killed people in that town. I killed people as we were leaving the airport. I killed an entire club full of vampires and humans.” She took a deep breath, the weight of all she’d done in less than twenty-four hours pressing down on her. “I killed a man who yelled at me for setting a garbage bin on fire.”

“And it felt good, didn’t it?” Gaius was watching her, his expression devoid of judgement. “It’s okay. You can tell me the truth.”

Yes.

“No. It didn’t.”

He raised an eyebrow, and she sighed, noticing a small blood stain on her pants.

“Fine. Yes, it felt good.” Amy picked at the dried blood, the screams of the dying ringing in her head. “Does that make me a monster?”

Gaius didn’t answer. When she looked up, he appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. God, did they ever make for a fucked-up duo. One had spent nearly three millennia as the worst version of himself, and the other had killed more in the past twenty-four hours than she had in the past twenty-four years.

“Well, on the bright side of things, you have another chance to be the hero. I’m sure defeating the second coming of The First will give you plenty of redemption points.”

“Do you honestly think that’s why I’m here?” He looked at her in a way she had never seen before. It surprised her. “This was never about being the hero, Amy.”

She had to turn away when he continued to look at her. “You know, I actually thought you might still betray us when we went to the opera house. Even after everything that happened to us before.” Their eyes met, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. “Even after our night together. A small part of me still thought you would change your mind.”

If he knew she was purposely changing the subject, he didn’t call her out. “I don’t blame you. I would have expected the same thing, had I been in your position.”

“Why didn’t you?” She received a glare in response. “Sorry. Bad question. What I meant is, why did you stay true to your word? I’m sure Rheya would have accepted you back. The odds were against us, and yet you still went against her.”

“I made my decision when you freed me from her control.” The wind swept his hair back, and Amy admired him as he looked out to the sea, his lips turned down in a frown. “Goodness is not inherent. Every single day is a struggle to try and do what’s right.” Gaius glanced at her, and she remembered that night on the boat so long ago, when they’d had a conversation similar to this.

She moved closer, biting her lip as she took his hands in hers. Amy waited for him to continue, knowing that there was more to be said.

“There are times,” he mumbled, looking guilty for what he was about to say, “I have considered going back to my old ways. Spending so long a certain way begins to change you. It would be a lie if I said a part of me didn’t enjoy it. And I still made those choices, even if I was under Rheya’s influence. I still have to take responsibility for my actions.”

Amy felt warmth spread across her face, the shame of her recent behavior making the guilt grow. “Do you think evil is inherent?”

“I think that everyone makes a choice. Good and evil, wrong and right…Those concepts change with time. Everyone has a different idea of what those things are. The world I grew up in is nothing like the world you were born into. But still, goodness is a choice. And I cannot blame you for choosing to answer your desires for evil. I have done the same thing. It’s human nature. Do not think otherwise.”

“Surprisingly, your honesty is refreshing.” She smiled when he looked at her, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Has anyone told you that you’re actually pretty insightful?”

Gaius rolled his eyes, letting go of her hand to wrap his arm around her. “I’ve been alive for thousands of years. After a while, you stop believing that mankind is good at heart. Some of the things I have seen, and that I’ve done, make it impossible for me to believe anything else. If you want someone to lie to you and tell you fairy tales, you chose the wrong companion. Seth would be better for that.”

“I knew you were jealous!” Amy laughed, delighting in the happiness she felt. If only it could last longer than a few hours. Her smile faltered. “Do you think he’s okay? I still can’t believe I almost killed him.”

“He will be fine.” The island called out to her once more, and she tried to hide the urge to answer, but he saw it on her face. “We’re close. This has to end tonight.”

This was it. Either she would rid herself of the darkness forever, or the world would be lost to her power. She realized she’d never found out what Mydiea was like now. Breaking away from the control the darkness had over her had made her completely forget. For all she knew, the island was nothing but a pile of rubble.

“If this is the end, I just need you to know that I lo—”

“Wait until after. I want you to be certain.” Gaius traced her lips with his thumb, his expression conveying all that he did not say.

It unsettled her how sure he seemed that this wouldn’t end very badly. Someone who knew the extent of this power should be more afraid. Adrian had just barely stopped her the first time.

“How can you be certain that things won’t go wrong?” Amy wished she could freeze this moment and live in it forever. She’d begun to see that the idea to go to Mydiea had not been her own. Something had called her there, and it was not good.

The darkness was returning, and she could feel life on the island. Soon, they would arrive on shore. She already knew this had been a mistake. Coming here, returning to the birthplace of the The First; she had just sealed her fate.

“I’m not.” Gaius held her, and she knew that he could sense her powering growing, too. “But I want you to say it because you mean it. Not because you think this is the end.”

A single tear glided down her cheek, and he wiped it away.

They could see the island from the boat now.

Amy felt the pull, the strength of it so powerful she gasped. Her eyes met Gaius’, and they reached for each other at the same time. He buried his hands in her hair, pulling her into his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Words could no longer express all that was left to say.

They hadn’t had enough time. No matter what, no matter how twisted her thoughts were becoming, she knew that. A hundred years still wouldn’t have been enough. There was still so much she wanted to see. So much of the world had been left unexplored.

The kisses lasted until the boat washed upon the shore. Tears fell from her eyes, and Amy cradled Gaius’ face in her hands, trying to use him as an anchor to her true self, but it didn’t work. She felt herself fading away, consumed by the evil that had existed inside her for so long. This was it.

Once they were on the island, she could feel all control slip away. Her thoughts changed and the earth became little more than a planet full of humans for her to feed on. She would become a goddess. The world would be hers.

Seconds after they arrived, screams echoed off the hills as she reached for the life pulsing around her and started to pull it in.

All the power, the potential, it was intoxicating. Each life was hers for the taking. Never again would she feel insignificant, or foolish for grieving for so long. She had the power to change everything. And she was finally ready to embrace it.

She was home.

#choices: stories you play #choices #play choices #choices fanfiction #gaius augustine #gaius x mc #gaius augustine x mc #rheya apostolous #bloodbound #bloodbound 3

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courtorderedcake · 4 years

Text

Hallow Chapter xiii - CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns

Ch / ?? - In which they will always find each other, but it may cause an argument

Waking up next to her should have embarrassed him, should have absolutely mortified both of them from the impropriety of the action, even clothed. It felt right, though, or even safe, but it was another strange magic that he didn't want to ask about. There had been a moment of uncertainty when she woke up, her eyes alert immediately as she looked at him, then relief until he whispered a rough good morning. Panic had set in, and her eyes screwed shut as she tensed, whispering to herself. Not knowing what to do, he rose to leave, only to have her grip his wrist.

Her eyes were wide, but the fear was easing. "No. I just, I just need a moment. I thought it was real. Sometimes you feel so right, and I forget where we are. Wait, have you and I… We haven't been intimate, have we?" Her voice raised in its pitch, and Killian choked out a cough. His face burned and he would not look anywhere but the ceiling.

"No!" Emma blushed as well, and he looked at her shyly for just a moment before looking at his feet. “No. Nothing like that. You just sleep better next to me, and I… I sleep better too.”

"Oh. That's… Thank you for doing this, then. I feel tired to my bones. It never stops, this exhaustion."

"What could I do to make it easier for you?" he whispered, and she laughed, closing her eyes to pinch at the bridge of her nose. "Emma?"

"It's just - I don't know how to deal with this, with you, this early. You're so kind, so nice! And it makes me feel…" Her eyes opened in irritation, hand touching his cheek as something lurked just below the surface, hiding what she wasn't saying. Gently letting her fingers trace through his stubble, she searched his face.

Leaning closer, he pressed a kiss to her palm, whispering to her contentedly. "Makes you feel what exactly?"

"We could have been -"

Lilly rapped at the door frame, completely nonplussed by his presence in Emma's bed, or their current closeness.

"Isaac and Cruella ask of you tomorrow," she drawled, before picking at a long fingernail. "You'll need your strength, and to be ready. I couldn't persuade them, and I'm sorry."

Emma was up in an instant, pleading with her friend. "Please Lilly. You told me we were friends, I can't keep doing this. Last time made me forget, and I -" Killian could barely hear as they walked to the small bunk Lilly kept. She didn't sleep in the house, which Killian found strange, but Lilly herself was strange. She had appeared shortly after Emma, but had always been Emma's shadow and caretaker. It was just normal, along with her disappearing for months, sometimes years. Standing, he crept to the door frame, straining to hear.

Emma called for him, told him to let himself out and she would meet him at the library. Not willing to miss this chance, he waited instead, listening to the women argue.

"I don't know either, but Cruella is demanding another session," Lilly was hissing. "You still have to fulfill your promises, and yeah, I do regret this, Emma. But what choices do I have? Neither of you are exactly the picture of suffering!"

"We are! This isn't real, and I can't stand the thought of what will happen when it's over. I made a promise, but it wasn't for this. It never included -"

"Oh boo hoo, he's happy. He's not a villain. You get to live ages together. Is that really what you want me to bemoan with you? Complaining that you are both content?" Lilly's voice was raised, anger lacing each word. "And you, you are the one spending time with him! If you are that scared, stay away from him and make it clear that you aren't -"

"That's not fair," Emma's voice wavered. "You know that's not fair. This is not a reward fitting the consequences - "

"It’s not? Or is it because you are scared you feel something for him?" Lilly wasn't visible, but he could hear the triumph in her tone.

"I - This isn't him. It's confusing, and I hate it. I don't know if this is some trick, or -"

"Oh Emma," Lilly laughed darkly. "Do you think that any of us have that much control? It's his memories, or his thoughts, because you're giving him power here. It's whatever he is underneath, mixed up with anything you added. Your memories and his are one giant pool, and you're just going to have to wait it out. This is on you. You helped sustain his memory of whatever her name was for far longer than - "

"Milah. Her name was Milah," Emma snarled. "This is the furthest we've ever gotten, because we keep finding each other - and whenever we do, everything falls apart. I am getting weaker every iteration. I can't keep giving you my power and sustaining this without completely losing myself - then who will bring him back? Who will bring me back?"

"I won't let them do that, Emma, I will protect -"

"Could you honestly stop them? If the answer is no just stop. Lilly, I'm scared."

Killian listened, confused but with a strange feeling of expectation as he tried to understand the vague feeling of anger he held. He shifted, able to peek around the corner without being seen.

"Then tell them that! Tell them you refuse sessions until you've had time to rest."

"I have. I know I have. I never should have brokered this deal, it felt off. Killian was the reason I said yes to it, and even he was acting bizarre. I know you wanted to think it was you, but he was the tipping point."

Lilly looked at her oddly, her face paling. "How was he acting bizarre? When did you talk about it?"

"He was - he brought it up that I should take the deal. I asked and he said you had told him, but he was just, his mannerisms were so strange. He acted like -"

"Like Cruella?" Lilly asked, her voice going low, and serious. "Emma, I didn't tell Killian anything. He came to me and said he was drugged, darted with kraken's ink and a potent dose of belladonna. If he wasn't the Dark One he would have died ."

Killian felt like he'd been dipped in cold water at the mention of a darkness, his spine turning to a column of ice. The feeling passed as quickly as it came.

"Instead, he said he woke up to find out that you went under. He was furious, said that he should have protected you, and I begged him to take the draught to reach you in sleep like I had. He did after yelling at me for being an idiot, and now he's here. He has never known what is happening with my people or me, never agreed to let you do this. If these aren't your memories -"

"They're his. That's the only explanation. I wouldn't be surprised if some of yours are mixed up in these too, but I can't remember a lot that came before any longer."

Lilly shifted nervously, grimacing. "I guessed as much, but this is insane - What are you going to do? Being in his head with the Darkness - If you really are forgetting more each time, or all of it, how do we know this is really him, or if the Darkness can get to you or - "

"I'm going to tell him everything. He's real. I trust him." Emma said firmly, taking a few steps towards his location. "I'm absolutely sure the Darkness isn't here. It's just him." He froze, but Lilly stood, shaking her head with a small smile.

"'Just him'." Lilly laughed. "You don't just trust him, you love -"

"I know. I know Lilly. Gods help me should I ever escape, he will never feel the same," Emma muttered, her blushing face making the green in her eyes so bright when they met his as he stood from his hiding spot.

Stepping out of her room, he ignored her sputtering protests and roughly brought her lips to his. She melted into the kiss, hands going from fluttering in surprise to gripping his shoulders to pull him closer, his tongue chasing hers tentatively.

Lily groaned, throwing her hands up. "Gross," she muttered, and sat in a dining chair with a huff.

"Well, hi," Emma sighed out, murmuring against his lips. His forehead touched hers, and she smiled up at him radiantly.

"Good morning."

"I have wanted that for so many, many mornings, so yes. It is a good morning at last," Emma whispered, her fingers holding tightly just below the hair at the nape of his neck, their next kiss broken by Lilly's loud throat clearing.

"I don't know which I like worse, you pining after each other or you pawing at each other. Just mate and be done with it, Fiore I beg thee," Lilly groaned. Emma giggled lightly and Lilly grumbled as she made her way out the door. "I'll be back in one hour to plan. Get your fill of face sucking until I return. If you forget after Cruella makes her move, it's likely going to take a while before it happens again."

"Lilly?" Emma called after her friend.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you for looking after us. If I forget again, remember how happy I am that you are watching out for me," Emma said with sincerity. Killian felt a twinge of anger he could not explain, an itch at the back of his mind that tried to move forward.

Lilly looked sad, but blushed bashfully. "Don't thank me, Emma. Besides, what are friends for?"

She left, lingering in the doorway for just a moment while Emma tightly hugged him, before shutting the door quietly behind her. Killian had the vague memory of a dragon burning down a castle, Emma calling the dragon a traitor as it flew, asking it why, begging it to stop while using its name - Lilly.

The thought never passed his lips, Emma sending him to the floor to press herself against him.

"I've wanted to kiss you again so badly here, so many times when you told me that the lives we were together in weren't real -"

"Emma," He pulled away abruptly, concerned. "I understand that both you and Lilly buy into this idea that we all are cursed, but I need you to understand that a future together means letting that go."

"But - you don't believe me? Please, I'm not crazy, I -"

Killian shook his head, gently smoothing her curls. "No one said anything about you being crazy, love. Please, just listen."

"You are accusing me of imagining this then, that's it? And Lilly's just what, tolerating me or placating me?" Emma looked at him with clear upset, pulling off of him and back to sit on her heels. "Don't be pedestrian -"

"I need you to hear me out, please." Sitting up, he grabbed for her hands with his own, his hook against her thigh. Her distrusting look of appraisal did not send him comfort. "Milah wrote me letters, she said she saw the way you looked at me and how I looked at you, but she wanted you to be better. She thought both of us deserved a chance where you were healthy of mind."

"I wish you had just remembered." Emma pulled her hands from him, rising to her feet. Killian reached for her, but she shook her head and turned away from him. "You never trust me, or yourself. Don't you feel any sense of this being wrong? Please, Killian."

"If I humor you, will you please consider treatment of some sort? It pains me to see you go into fits, even if it brought you to feel something for me. I don't want to take advantage of that."

"Fine, you want to humor me? How big is this island?" Emma stood, glaring at him with her eyes narrowed. Fire flashed behind the green of her pupils. "Why have your brother and Elsa only shown up when you think they should? And Olaf, that sweet boy, why has he disappeared? Why can't you remember why you have a hook for a hand, or why your father and Nemo have gone without a trace, or even how old you are or what day it is?"

"I - That's - That's preposterous, and insulting to my family -" He stood, shaking his head.

The island was large but had strange terrain, that was true. The Blackwater was rocky cliffs, pine forest, and dark ocean with stone buildings. The Baelfire was shrubby inland swamp and bog with beautiful flower fields. The beach and town were peaceful sandy coves that lead up to apple orchards and pumpkins, all within at most a half hour’s walk in any direction... Why did he not remember the cartography? He was raised to be in the navy, as Liam was, he should be able to say with certainty. And yes, his brother. Liam and Elsa had taken over the Blackwater when Father had gone. Nemo and Father did not check in with him, they were grown men who were probably sailing the warmer coasts. Olaf had to have gone to some school or back to Elsa's kingdom, that was easy enough.

His hook caught the light, and he tried to make out the memory of why it shot pain through him. A shard of something had pierced him, but the memory being foggy was just a side effect. As for his age, he'd stopped caring to count, and as for the day, it was a Saturday because the library opened whenever he felt like it. The library opened whenever he felt like it, but later than usual on Saturday's, and rarely on Sunday's. The pervasive feelings of something not being right or wrongness in some thoughts or feelings regarding memory was just her casting doubt.

"I knew Elsa when she was alive. I know of Liam, from her, from my home, and you. I tried to keep Milah alive for as long as I could. Please, just listen."

"Don't you dare twist her death," he hissed, pointing a finger at her, and advancing slightly. Not Milah. Emma couldn't -

"I'm not twisting anything, Killian. I hated every minute of not being able to keep your memory of her alive. I tried so hard, and it took so much magic just - "

He moved toward the door, now furious himself. "Enough."

Emma blocked his exit, grabbing him roughly to turn him as they moved outside. "Why won't you just believe me? Why can't you trust me, this one time without me being pulled apart to prove it to you? Why can't you just trust yourself enough to know that this is all wrong? You promised me!" Emma screamed at him.

"I thought I could handle this, and I was wrong. If I'm tied into your madness, I refuse to play into it like Lilly does. I can't, I can't do it, and this is why. I'm sorry, Emma." He pushed past, and he heard her frustrated cry as she sat on the stairs leading to the cottage.

He would swear that he heard her say something else as he left, words swallowed by the trees and his own anger.

"I'm so tired of hearing you apologize to me, Killian."

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

A day passed by, and Killian steadfastly held onto his anger with Emma despite the nagging voice of reason that tried to corrode his stubbornness. Three parts of his whole argued cyclically : If (A very small if, at that) Emma was mad, he had still promised to help and support her, but had instead acted in anger over something she conceivably couldn't help. If she wasn't mad (a large if), it could be that she brought up his family to push him out of anger, some sort of resentment for her own situation with her orphan past and adoptive family, meaning he had every right to be angry despite her clear emotional distress. If she wasn't mad, and somehow what she was saying was all true about past lives, living ghosts, and false memories (the largest if, by far), he had presumably left her before and she was terrified of the consequences of that abandonment.

It's easier to fight with himself when he's opening the dusty bottle of rum, ignored since Emma had eclipsed his lonely routines.

"Emma! Please love, answer me, I remember and I am sorry -"

Red claws raised, the woman who is not a woman lets Emma crumple at her feet, Isaac and Lilly watching dispassionately from their mounts.

"Too late puppy," she giggles.

He isn't graceful when he throws Emma over his shoulders, running into the woods away from the laughing false queen as she blows her horn. A fox calling a human hunt, his memory laughs at an unamusing joke at their expense. Killian tries to hide them, tries his hardest to nestle them in the gnarled roots of a creek bank. Emma blinks awake, looking at him as a stranger while he begs her to be quiet. When she says his name again, it's with a veneer of defeat.

"It's alright Killian. You won't remember dying here, and it doesn't hurt for long." Her hand tries in a feeble attempt to staunch the bleeding, face going paler as seconds fly by. "A little pain, then it's like falling asleep."

The black and white dogs - no not dogs, foxes - find them with ease. Killian pulls her from hiding to run, and Emma obliges even in her injured exhaustion. They duck behind trees and bushes, hooves growing louder by the second. Emma is calm, her face set in marble, completely impassive unlike he's ever seen her. This is his fault.

"I'm so sorry I left you alone, I didn't -" he tries, but she stops him with a slow shake of her head. She takes his hand as hoofbeats shake the ground. They're going to die, they are going to be killed - no. They're going to be separated, this is what happens when they are taken away from the other, violence to make it easier to rip them apart.

"I'm so tired of hearing you apologize to me, Killian," she whispers, stumbling slightly. The arrows in her back don't feel real, but nothing does because it isn't , and the next volley that hits him hurts for just a moment, before he's waking up to Liam saying someone's washed ashore. The nightmare forgotten in a child's curiosity, lost within another dream.

His head pounded as he woke from too much drink, groaning at the feeling of being so hungover. He couldn't focus, even as his hands pressed into his eyes to abate the throb of his skull. His hand throbbed too, the cut pulsing and angry.

Pulling his hands back slowly in confusion, he looked hard at the gash that halved his palm, the way his fingers have stiffened into a claw like hook, the swollen flesh red and angry. Blinking, he stared in disbelief, until the illusion disappeared before his very eyes and the silver metal of his hook lay heavy on his knee. It shot a not so phantom pain through his arm, and Killian felt ill.

From his home it is a ten minute sprint to the Blackwater, the doors pushed wide open into the courtyard that is being reclaimed by evergreen and moss. It smells like rain, clouds thick in the sky, making it look like a blanket of eggshell and gray set out to block the sun. Liam shouted after him when he ran past, greeting him in confusion while Killian searched for the room he knows he does not remember.

Is a room still a room if it isn't remembered? If a tree falls in it and no one is there to hear, does it still exist?

The door handle was an elegant french curve, but was placed high on the door at just below his chest level, his stomach turning at the memory brought back to this place. He hadn't opened the door since he was twelve, his height not catching up with him until later. The handle was where he would have remembered reaching for it, remembering opening it to see his pale mother waste away in her quiet room until the day she wore her death shroud.

Liam called down the corridor, but Killian pushed the door open regardless, its blurred images and blank areas making bile rise in his throat. The bed was clearly defined, its canopy like a mouth and where Killian had always looked first no matter what. Nothing else in the room could draw his eye from his mother in her pink velvet bed with its many tassels and golden pull cord. The pull cord appeared, falling down from the ceiling to the bedside, his sudden memory of it bringing it into the tableau. Liam reached from behind him and sighed, closing the door.

"Don't do that to yourself little brother," Liam said, solemnly. "Leave her room closed, there's nothing but bad memories of her in there."

Killian couldn't help the insane bubble of laughter that burst from his mouth at the word 'memories', leaving a stunned and purpling Liam behind as he ran from the Blackwater to Emma's cabin. It took ten minutes to get there, and he panted out laughter at the absurdity of the truths Emma had laid out, calling her name. She didn't answer, leaving him to look for her behind her cottage, the beach down the trail, or anywhere else she preferred to go when she needed quiet. It was as if she had disappeared into thin air. A storm was rolling in, his nerves less important than finding Emma. He looped around again, surprised and then not at how easy it was to loop the island. This time he saw a flash of gold in the cliffs that lay just past her cabin.

Emma was pressed tightly to a ledge, sitting to lean against the rock as it crumbled from her scrabbling feet, one hand holding on to a root tightly and the other holding her opposite shoulder. The light muslin gown she wore was dark red under her hand.

"Emma?" he yelled up at her, her wide eyes meeting his. She pressed fingers to her lips in a wince, looking up at the cliffs as if expecting something. Killian began looking for a way up to her, the green smoke pouring over the edge catching him off guard. It swirled over the rocks, its mass forming a shape that resembled a clawed talon.

There was no explanation for how it picked Emma up, and flung her off the cliff face to the hard packed earth below.

Sprinting towards her as fast as his legs could carry him, he ran to where she lay sprawled on her side, her pale dress bright against the dark sand. Panic set in when she did not react at his touch. He brought her into his arms, rubbing her cold limbs. They warmed, and she sputtered, making a small keening noise when she moved. Her breathing was shallow, but she cracked a smile when her eyes opened to meet his own.

"Maybe we should reexamine the idea of you being mad, because I believe that it may be spreading," he whispered, leaning her over so she could cough.

"Killian," Emma sighed in relief when she had caught her breath.

"Darling, I don't know what is happening, but we're going to be alright. I'm sorry I didn't believe you, I'm sorry that I betrayed your trust by leaving you like that. I won't let anyone - " Two figures appeared on the far side of the beach, walking towards them as the sky turned to grey ash. Emma shook her head, panicking.

"I can't keep them from us, I'm too weak. I used everything I could on you and Milah," she whispered, her shoulder very clearly broken as she winced from trying to hold his hand.

Knitting his brow, he looked at their village leaders, Cruella and Isaac, then back to Emma. "Don't worry, it's Isaac and I'll just tell him -"

"No. You don't understand, we don't have time. I'm - Killian, I'm done for here. You don't need to die, you can hide, it will be easier if you hide. I don't want them to punish you. You're defenseless here, and they're going to drain me. Please, find me again. For now, you must go." Emma gave Killian an apologetic smile.

Isaac moved from behind her, wrenching her away with tremendous force. Lilly appeared from down the cliffside, the sky darkening to pitch as she tried to loosen Isaac's grip. Cruella surveyed the scene with a cruel smirk, her profile like ink on silk, eyes predatory as she strode towards him.

"Isaac, it seems that we have some resistance. Emma, isn't it about time you forget about your problems for a bit? Lilly, Killian, don't you want your friend to relax?" Cruella purred. Her words were like mulled wine and honey, and Killian felt his head go fuzzy.

Killian nodded, compelled to let Emma go into Isaac's grip, as Lilly hesitated.

"Please Lilly, don't do this. Please, we're friends. Killian and I have to go -"

Isaac interrupted with a wheezing noise, clamping a hand over Emma's mouth. "Lilly, do you want your cut or not?"

Lilly nodded solemnly.

Emma cried behind Isaac's palm, eyes flickering to look at them all as he searched for a way out as she struggled. The earth shook, the sky almost as dark as pitch, lightning and thunder assaulting the beach. Killian noticed he didn't feel discomfort, not even worry. The warmth in his chest made him feel tired, even as a place in his mind screamed that he needed to focus on Emma, get Emma out -

He let his eyes slowly meet her own, watching as Isaac removed his hand, letting go of Emma, her back arching and fists balling. Her eyes wrenched shut and she trembled, silently screaming, as magic poured out of her into Isaac's slowly moving palm. Isaac sighed, eyes fluttering, and stepped away.

Lilly raised a rock in front of Emma, holding what looked to be a mere smoothed lava stone, but in reality was a magical artifact, and Killian watched as again magic flowed out of Emma's body, curling tendrils softly wrapping around the stone and making it glow slightly. Before Lilly could pull away, Cruella threw her aside, standing in front of Emma with their noses almost touching. Killian felt his heart beat faster, and that voice calling on him to do something, do anything, was so loud now.

"Cruella, don't -" Isaac started, but was thrown aside with a flick of her red fingernails, disappearing into the air. Lilly charged the woman from the side, and Cruella simply laughed, and snapped her fingers, Lilly crumpling nearby.

"Now then. Let's make the best use of this meeting, my sweetly dreaming little princess.” With her black and white hair blowing in the wind, she turned to Killian with a wide grin that made the angles of her face dark with shadows. Her red amulet seemed to smolder, green smoke pouring from around her. "Lover boy can watch so he can see what it is he's up against every time he ruins one of these dreams. It doesn't matter how many you destroy, I'll make sure that she is happy and get what I want. You won't take her from me, puppy."

Emma made a small noise of protest, but Cruella's long fingers sprung out to wrap around her neck. Emma’s eyes shot open, wide and completely white, powerful magic pouring off her while her tears reflected on her cheeks like diamonds.

Killian took a step toward them, and another, stumbling on the now uneven sand. Looking toward the village, he could see it breaking away, floating in places as it caved in on itself. As if the information was always there in his mind, he knew with a dulled realization that his brother, his family, were all long dead or never there.

Cruella's cackle made his head snap to look at Emma, watching as the magic that was like rays of sunshine was being pulled into Cruella's body, the light swirls of it going dark as it touched her. Emma's fists went limp, her fingers uncurling and head beginning to loll, her own magic mixing with the dark of Cruella's, going more of a gray before dimming. Cruella let her drop to the sand, the small patch of beach they all were on the only thing left on a stark white canvas as she disappeared in a cloud of dark black smoke. His legs still felt leaden, but Killian moved in a clumsy and scrabbling crawl towards Emma, finding her barely breathing, her nose and ears bleeding slightly. The beach shrunk further as he cradled her closely, Lilly's unconscious body disappearing.

Fractures appeared around them, the whiteness creeping up with speed. Emma's eyes flickered open briefly, dull and tired, looking up at him with confusion.

"Who…?" she murmured, before falling back into unconsciousness.

The white had crept up all around them, Killian’s foot falling off the crumbling edge he now balanced on, Emma's legs almost pulling him away and into the nothingness. He gathered her closer, pulling her onto his lap, before they fell into the white abyss. It darkened quickly, smoke and debris making them spin, Emma's body tucked into his own.

Stroking her hair he kissed her forehead, whispering softly that they would be alright, their descent either slowing or bodies growing used to the velocity. She didn't answer or stir, her breathing at least steady, but he felt her nose begin to drip again and tore off a piece of his shirt to hold there. She struggled then, frustrated that her nose was blocked most likely, waking briefly.

"What….?"

"Emma, I don't know -"

"Emma? Who…? Who is Emma?" she asked, confused.

"You're Emma, Princess Emma. That's your name, please -"

"I'm Emma? Who are you then? Where are we and why can't I see you?" She touched his face, slowly running her hand over his cheek. "I know you."

"Yes, love. You do. I'm -"

And then he gripped nothing, the hand on his cheek replaced with a gentle stirring of cold air, silence falling around him in the vacuum of where the princess no longer was. He shook his head, suddenly confused. The princess, he'd called her that hadn't he? Memories assaulted him one after the other without mercy.

Yes, the princess, the sleeping princess, her body next to his in the Kitsune cathedral, raised on a dais of marble. Lilly begging him to wake her, his own fears after waking from some attack confirmed, warning that the imprisoned Kitsunes had made their play, and Emma -

Emma was in danger of wasting away, becoming a husk of what she was. She lay so still, he could see the memory of her pale face and body dressed in the crimson color of the apples in their orchard, the square cut of the neckline barely moving. The Darkness had rejoiced and asked the Dragon princess to take the shard, but Killian had fought for her, made the draughts himself from the library to join her, and when he failed, she brought him back again and again.

How many times had he failed her? How many times did she have to whisper for him to remember or to find her, always to find her? That this time he was her savior and the guide out of this place?

Isaac's voice hissed right in his ear, "Come then, villain. We will let you be the hero." Killian fumbled through the smoke, searching for the man flailing through darkness. The world spun faster and faster, the crack to the side of his head mercifully stopping its wandering.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The real losers in this terrible scheme are as always, the Other's prey: its own kind taken mercilessly. They don't know the secret of their cull, the Other hides her falsehoods from them with care. They believe that the Other is a force of good.

Emma knows better.

An empty husk cannot reveal the Other's secret and her deceit. If Emma were to wake and tell tales of the Other taking more magic than needed, of creating these hollowed out husks to gorge itself, of the monster that waits in shadow to feast, or of its rigging the system to snub even what was once called friend - the result would be turmoil.

It's been easier to fix the game every single attempt, the process growing smooth, but this has been the easiest yet for the Other to win. Usually, the Other's pet, the Author, shares this stolen magic with the island after the unlucky victim burns out, grinding to nothing. They hollow, empty themselves, become hungry ghosts that fall together to have something in their lonely attempts to fill themselves with life. They go willingly to their ends for ideas of glory and duty, of the chance to be a savior; they believe they know the heaviness of the title. It's trickery, trickery that Emma herself has fallen for - a sacrifice that is supposed to be just a marginal chance in a lottery, but this time Emma is here instead. It's a welcome gift the Other cannot believe has fallen into its lap, a hen house full of plump chickens unlike anything the Other dared to dream of, a never-ending meal for its gluttonous creation.

In this place, realities are mixing together and Emma is losing her mind, sometimes even within memories that are not her own; minds immersing in each other in overlap. It is almost too easy for the Other to win this game.

Emma's magic keeps coming without end, magic that is draining steadily to break this curse that Regina and Queen Snow have bungled. A spell that is both broken and at the same time not; cast wrong in the midst of war, cast by a distraught friend turned foe knowing that she must do something to prevent more death. It is a blade with a double edge, the spell meant to banish and preserve under a barrier, its power never anticipated being fought against. The many cracks in the spell have given way to create effects in the spell's makeup, rippling out into a terrible fate that no one could have foreseen. How do creatures made mostly of magic themselves survive without it? The barrier decays slowly, but the magic within leaks free through the cracks. The creature claws at it haplessly, and the Other simply held out until their lucky day.

The chance that Emma can give them freedom is too great to pass up, even if just for a few of them. No one could ever suspect the greater good is only for the few.

Emma falls again, and she is sure the Other is somewhere, smiling as it drains her, and pushes her one step closer to being devoid of everything.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The smell of tobacco and the feel of velvet registered in Killian’s mind as he stuttered to waking, the confusion and memories of what had passed hitting him in blurred increments. He was sitting in a wingback chair, the velvet arms a taupe color that complimented the quilt that covered part of the back. The room he was situated in was tall and rounded, stretched tall with shelves that seemed to go on for a great while. Windows dotted the circular walls where bookcases stuffed with tomes did not, and beams stuck out here and there as if they had been jammed in by a giant's great hand. The wood was wrapped thickly in rope that served as pulleys, dreamcatchers and strange charms hanging from any other unclaimed space. Scrolls, crystals, and sculptures sat in disarray all over the shelving. Beside him a fireplace crackled merrily, and across from him sat a chair matching his own, where Isaac looked on expectantly.

Killian attempted to spring up from his chair to throttle the smaller man, but reddish smoke appeared around him as Isaac yelped. The smoke formed heavy chains that pulled him back to his seat, Isaac looking at him from behind hands raised to protect his face.

"Wait, wait!" Isaac gasped out, and Killian struggled against the manacles. "Hold on -"

"Where's Emma?" Killian yelled, and Isaac lowered his hands. Killian tried again to lunge at him, Isaac flinching back slightly, but could not move farther than just above his seat. He growled, and Isaac laughed nervously.

"All in good time. Are you settled? We have a lot to discuss, my boy." Isaac sighed. "Tea? It's a dream, so I can get you any kind either of us has in our memory -"

"Where," Killian gritted out, "Is Emma you rotten---"

"No tea then. Okay. Well." Clapping his hands on his lap, Isaac looked at Killian with a patient smile. "How much do you remember?"

"Emma is asleep under your bloody rites, which she was tricked into because you are all well and good in some madness about sacrifices -"

"Yes well, living is quite important to us, as a species and just as a whole biological imperative," Isaac said with a bit of nervous amusement in his tone.

"You're killing your own kind, you wanking imbecile -"

"No, no, no - I'm not. That's not the intention or my purpose. I didn't even know about the hungry ghosts until a few cycles ago. Even then, Cruella is the monster. I want the Kits to go back, I don't like doing all this," he gestured, and Killian narrowed his eyes. "I'd rather be writing other things, you know."

"Writing?" Killian blinked, his confusion making Isaac grin.

"Yes, writing. I can write fantasies that happen in the dreamscape or if someone has altered perception. I write three strengthening tasks for this ritual normally, but… Emma has made that a bit more difficult." He pressed his fingers close together as if to pinch, in a gesture showing a small amount. "She's doing most of the work, I give her a few vague notions and boom - she's drowned the page in what she wants or expects to happen, or what you want or you expect to happen."

Killian let his shoulders sag. He thought for a moment, before asking quietly, "How long have we actually been here?"

"Just over a week. It's incredible, really. We've pulled you both from each other's minds so many times. You won't believe how many dreamcatchers I've had to make, but Emma, she fights that like it's nothing. A mere parlor trick." Isaac made a noise like a scoff, rubbing his temples. "Usually a Kitsune would have burned out around the third dream. Now, I've lost count how many iterations we've been through, some stacked on top of the other. The main formula remains the same, though: She dreams, we drain her magic that is heightened by the fantasy, and then it restarts. With Emma, it was hard to get her to restart initially, especially when you entered the picture. We started having to, well. Kill you both."

Blanching, Killian could not hide the shock on his face. Isaac laughed lightly, trying to pat him on the knee as he reared back from the man's touch.

Tutting slightly, Isaac shook his head. "Oh, don't be too upset. It only hurts in the dream and only for a moment… at least for you that is. I have no idea about your lady. She's entirely beyond my understanding, and her magic is unpredictable to the extent of creating chaos on already unstable magic."

Killian was floored, almost collapsing as if to melt into the armchair that mirrored Isaac's. Isaac continued on as Killian laid his head in his hands, one hand, no longer a hook, scratching at his scalp softly. He ached for Emma to be there to hear this, process this with him, possibly from the fact she currently shared his mind.

"Which, I mean, I can understand, it's old, esoteric magic work, but not failure proof. Like the separation of your little friend the Darkness. That took skill, and I was lucky to get it out on the first go, especially since you were quite the unexpected guest." Isaac gestured as if flicking off dirt. Killian stared at his hands, watching them shake.

Isaac cleared his throat, suddenly aware he was no longer being attentively listened to. Killian’s eyes snapped back and he continued on.

"But not my book, alright, and that's what - I mean as a researcher you must understand, I'm floored. The book has some of the strongest magic in these worlds, realms, and planes - and here, your 'Lass' is, fighting it off as if it was a glamour. Some people remember once or twice, but not everyday, and bringing herself to you or you to her! You weren't even supposed to fall asleep the first time, but you must have done something - a potion or draught maybe?" He rubbed his chin, thoughtful, before shaking the idea away.

"Regardless, there should have been no second time, but she just summoned you in like you were supposed to be there. We kept trying to stop you from saving her, or whatever she wanted. It's just incredible. It's not, it's just not feasible that she can break through in every pocket of memory, or time - we were completely blindsided by Milah, Liam, and Erica? No, Elsa, that's right; Emma's mind or magic - haven't figured out which yet - will not allow you to not have good memories, nothing could fight my quill with her giving the ink. If one of us stepped in to try and correct her, give her a little punishment by way of hurting you in some way, she would find a way around it. She's fascinating."

"So why are you letting this happen? Are you going to give her to Cruella?" Killian gripped the arms of the chair, heart racing again at the thought. "I won't let you -"

"Cruella?" Isaac let out a bark of surprised laughter, shaking his head. "No, no. Cruella isn't a friend of mine. We are… We rely on each other with a mutual vehement dislike. Cruella is just a leech that can shapeshift and manipulate, like her imitation of you to convince Emma or her thrall on the beach there. That won't work again on you, or at least not very well, her thrall is a one trick pony. Cruella has a great love of the finer things in life, and I helped her get them with my quill. She used me as she uses anyone within her reach. I haven't stopped since finding out about her trickery, because it would be a suicide mission. She'd make me a puppet or chain me away."

"You still should have said something you coward! How can you just sit there -"

"Because I don't have the trust of Mal and Zorro like Cruella does. Understand, Dark One, that they may rule this island on the surface, but it is that Kitsune She-Devil who pulls the strings and has everyone under her thrall." Isaac looked sad for a moment, but it quickly left his face as if he remembered himself. He cleared his throat and began again.

"Cruella, Maleficent, Regina and by proxy, myself, had plans to kill Snow Whitehart of the United Realms before she could take her place as queen. Maleficent and the traitor, Regina, backed out after Maleficent found herself with child, and Regina's precious Daniel Equi was killed by Goblins. They ran to the crown, and Regina's punishment was banishing her two closest friends to an island they cannot leave. Eternity is a long time on an island that you cannot escape. I don't care to stay, and I wouldn't mind to go." Isaac drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair before turning himself to sit sideways, head resting in his palm while his elbow pressed into the place his fingers had been.

Killian cocked his head confused. "You're safe here though, with plenty of food and that library -"

"Not exactly 'safe'. We're - both Kitsune and Dragons - Elemental beings. Not having magic stung as the spell began to decay from our attempts, but it's been fixed since we came up with the Harvest. We'd all rather not find out what happens when there is no magic as we are creatures that rely on it for survival," Isaac laughed darkly.

"I'm not in the lottery because I'm integral to keeping up the magic supply they divvy up. Que sera sera, as they say. Some of us have made peace, some gripe about the sacrifice, but Cruella has never known calm in her life. Especially now, since she's gotten quite a taste for Emma's powers, more so than ever. Hollowed out Kitsune after Kitsune doing her feeding, it's a shame." The same sad look crossed Isaac's face, like a cloud darkening where sunshine had been. Isaac rubbed his palm over his eyes and forehead, as if to rub it away, grunting slightly.

"Cruella wants to break out of this cage with her monster and do whatever it is her Goddess complex entails, and who should saunter into her web but a magic buffet that can do just that. Right now she's probably realized that we're talking, and looking for a way to prevent her prey from leaving. I truly think Emma will be left here a husk if Cruella has her way, taking all of her magic and letting her be the last piece to her collection of enraged spirits. I'm sure the princess has plenty of anger to feed that creature." The man shuddered, grimacing and closing his eyes tightly.

Killian blinked, turning his head to the side slightly to question Isaac. "What creature?"

"You haven't seen it then, the hungry ghosts all together?" Isaac raised a brow, sitting upright. "Oh, so you don't know about Cruella's pet! When you see that beast, you won't forget it. Cruella keeps it… hungry."

"How do I stop her? How can I protect Emma?" Killian almost pleaded, worry lacing the words.

"I think if Emma has nightmares in succession, she can escape with you. Cruella won't like it because you'll expose her avarice and her plans, but me, I'm not greedy. I'm simply curious. If I had my way, I'd want you both to stay so I can study her magic." Isaac waved his hand, with a flourish and the manacles that bound his wrists fell away to smoke. "I want to see if I can contain it like your dark little secret, or see if we can create a power supply from longevity, so if she were to stay - "

"Stay?" Killian interrupted.

"Yes, stay. We're secured against Goblin filth, you don't have the Darkness in you here, she doesn't have to go to war. She's safe, like her parents probably wanted. I'd let her sleep a few days each week, and she could have memories of her family there or dream of whatever she wanted. Emma's happy here, and once Maleficent gets wind of this, she won't have anymore of this distress with Cruella. Cruella will be lucky if she gets to experience distress, Mal will probably eat her in a single bite." Isaac let out a delighted laugh, turning again in his seat and giggling at the thought. He wiped tears from his eyes, throwing them aside.

Raising a finger and wagging it, he turned his head to look at Killian. "But, more importantly, you're happy here, and you're free. No need for that nightmare business or any unhappy thoughts. That's the other option, you see; you could give in. It's a paradise. There's always the off chance she truly does free us, as that would be preferable. I'm just looking at odds that say not good. The least favorable of course goes unsaid, but I'm inclined to think you like my alternative."

"I couldn't. Emma is fighting this with every bit of strength she has. She's made it clear that she can't possibly - she doesn't want to be here." Killian took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "She wants to actually find her family, be free of this, save her people and -"

"And now she has friends here, " Isaac shrugged, "You could be the hero for once, not the villain. I mean, don't you want that? She doesn't seem so clear when she figures out that this is really you. You could be a little selfish, Lieutenant."

"Those feelings - She doesn't really feel that way." Killian looked away, but could feel Isaac's smile without needing to see it. "And I can't do that to her, I can't lo - I can't enjoy her friendship only to have her realize that I…"

"You're going to give up a chance to see what it could be like if she and you were something more?" Killian tried to protest but Isaac silenced him with a noise.

"Ah, ah! The dear little princess obviously reciprocates your," Isaac coughed, laughing slightly as he made a strange gesture with his fingers, enunciating, "'Hidden Feelings'. And why wouldn't she? Without your Darkness, and her desire to die trying to save a kingdom that will war for ages after this, you two are pretty well matched."

Swallowing hard, Killian looked down at his boots. "No."

"Hm. Well, what do you say we give you both a few more days. Emma can't be taken out yet, she's still dreaming what is written. After that, she will be back to the waking world, hopefully with the barrier broken." Isaac sat up again, letting out a loud gasp. "Saaaaay - man to man, how about I do you a little favor? I'll make it so she knows who you are, and if all goes right, that she won't remember a single bit of this."

"Why? Just her and I, of what it could have been if we were just ordinary? Why would I do that to myself?" Killian looked at Isaac, his narrowed eyes easily showing his incredulity.

"Because she won't remember, and because once that toxic sludge climbs back on your bones, you'll at least have had a moment of happiness with her, before her inevitable end. Even a husk is a better option than what awaits her out there if she fails. That's a heavy risk, and I would wager that with your little dark conscience there, you might not be able to bet on anything but what it believes is the winning horse." Isaac shrugged once more, Killian's chest aching. "Regardless of if you want her to see you like this one last time or not, she's going to dream. Take it, or you can leave it."

"No tricks?" Killian said slowly. "What dream will she have?"

"No tricks. I don't know what her dream will be," Isaac shrugged again, scratching his balding head. "Whatever she's thinking of strongly, enough to enter the slumber."

"How can I trust you? What about Cruella?"

"You can't. I could just write another ending, make another dreamcatcher, tweak and twist things as much as I can against her magic making you miserable while keeping you trapped - but, I do prefer happy endings, the happiest for everyone being the barrier’s destruction. As the Kitsune leader, I'd prefer them to stop being turned into mindless zombies, and to be able to get good rice wine again." The reddish smoke appeared again, morphing into a red porcelain decanter patterned with a golden dragon. Two small cups without handles followed after it as they bounced down to Isaac. He offered some to Killian, but Killian shook his head. One of the cups vanished in a puff of smoke.

"I've been desperate for it, and they make the best batches in the Eastern mountains. As for Cruella, who knows what that witch is doing at any time; best to believe it's malicious and plan for the worst."

He threw back his glass, shivering with glee as it went down. The decanter and cup dissolved into nothing.

Killian hesitated for a long moment, leaning forward to place his face in his hands and scrub hard at the back of his neck. "You swear to me that she won't remember? That this, whatever this is, once we are out of here she'll be okay? That I can give her a chance, that she can maybe find someone worthy of her once she saves her family?"

"Wow, you actually believe she can succeed! You of all people know I can't guarantee safety for the princess. I'm doing the best I can as it is. If you want to stay around and protect her, feel free to risk it. I have no idea." Killian scowled at the man, who cocked his head mockingly. "Are you sure that you want to waste this obvious devotion you have for your lady love?" Isaac grinned.

"Isaac. Answer me. Will she remember?"

"Yes, yes. She won't remember. You'll have your precious memories, and only you." Reaching forward, Isaac offered his hand. "Deal?"

Killian hesitated, before reluctantly shaking the man's hand.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Falling out of the dream from Isaac's push was like going from a pillow bed to a vat of tar. The Darkness attacked him instantaneously, the feeling of it like a great ripping and writhing mass as it reclaimed every inch of him that had reprieve. Its voice was shrill, sensations overwhelming all at once, its attempts to force him to stop his endeavors disarming.

TAKE THE SHARD! TAKE IT, TAKE IT, TAKE IT NOW! TAKE IT OR ELSE - TAKE IT AND FREE US, FREE US SO WE MAY HAVE OUR LIFE BACK IN THE SHADOWS

It went on, never ending. The voice could scream for as long as it needed. Killian did not find he cared.

Emma lay still, hands folded at the waist, a satin wrapped bouquet wilting against her bosom. His attention elsewhere, the Darkness shrieked in fury. Killian let it, let it begin breaking him again, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers cracked as he pulled them away, but he ignored them. Laying on his cot next to her, he laughed quietly to himself, the Darkness trying desperately to keep him in its clutches without success.

DON’T YOU DARE! COWARD!

Its snarling howls fell away, the falling sensation abating as he landed in a soft seat while a balmy late spring day appeared out a large open window next to him. Flower petals fell over a courtyard, the garden spectacular in its beauty. The walls were high on the other side, huge windows allowing a view from multiple stories of what could be nothing but the palace.

Orchestral music played somewhere nearby, the polished floors gleaming in the light of a chandelier. Standing up from the plush, velvet wingback chair, Killian walked towards the sound of the music. A hand clapped him on the back, the familiarity of it and the warmth spreading through him and bringing back so many memories, and Killian readied himself as he turned.

"Younger brother! It's about time you saunter into your own bash." Liam grinned at him. Killian felt a deep pang of loss followed by gratitude for the ability to see his brother again. Emma's doing, no doubt. He quirked an eyebrow swallowing back any sadness with a smirk, and let himself have the moment.

"Do my ears deceive me, or does my ancient and senile brother actually refer to me correctly as younger?" he quipped. A servant brought by a drink assortment, Liam taking a tumbler while Killian waved the man away.

"Don't despair, Killian. This courtesy lasts only for tonight - nothing about your award ceremony can be little, especially when it coincides with a chance to mingle with your pick of lovely women vying for your attention." Liam sipped his drink, walking in the direction of the music, Killian walking next to him. His brother was in full regalia which explained his own, but he couldn't place what ceremony they could be at together at the palace. In his time in the Navy, Killian had only seen the old grounds, not the always growing and subtly shifting palace Emma knew. It had been in construction secretly during war time, Liam only seeing the beginnings of it and construction concepts.

"Brother," Liam said sternly, and Killian fell from his thoughts.

"Hm, yes?"

"I said," Liam sighed, rolling his eyes. "Are there any in particular that you have a fancy for? I've heard rumors, but they cannot possibly be correct."

"I, well..." Killian’s face heated, thinking of the princess. The thought occurred to him that Milah may be in this dream too if he wasn't careful. He licked his lips, but Liam interrupted, giving his arm a squeeze.

"I know it's been difficult with what happened to Milah, but if you truly have moved on, even to as much as being open to someone -" Liam turned him, holding a hand on both of his shoulders as he searched Killian’s face. "I am beyond happy for you, not to mention proud. Especially if she's a higher status than us, which by the way - having to hear news by way of Elsa's gossip is very unbecoming, Lieutenant. I should hope that as a Captain you learn to communicate better."

Killian swallowed hard, his brother's pride and praise so long unheard. Whatever this was could not be a memory, Liam and Milah erased within the same terrible days, and being named Captain was impossible considering his war crimes. This was at one time his dream, in some ways. A promotion at the palace complete with pomp, all while his brother and loved ones looked on. Before Milah the dream had included adoring women in droves, until he danced with a finely dressed lady who was his one and only 'true love' like some boyhood fantasy.

Liam led him to a curtain, drawing it back to reveal an opulent ballroom. Trumpets sounded and dancers stopped twirling, those at tables standing while others simply had their attention drawn to where Liam and him stood.

"Presenting Killian Jones, savior of the realms. Long may he live!" a voice called out, the revelers repeating it with whoops and shouts.

He stepped forward, Liam falling a step behind as they made their way to a table in the front of the room. Elsa hurriedly snuck her elbow through Liam’s as they walked, and Ingrid already stood there with Anna. Another blare of trumpets came louder and longer, and the voice called out again, much more excitedly this time.

"Their Majesties, King David and Queen Snow of the United Realms, and her Highness, Princess Emma. Long may they reign and may their lives be longer still!"

While the revelers repeated the announcer’s words, the King and Queen appeared waving, sitting at the head table with them. Emma was the spitting image of the King in so many ways, his eyes and hair, the soft smile, but her mother's beauty and fine features were very present. The Queen had the same nervous brow furrowing as Emma, looking around at everything as if she was confused. She met his eyes, and her own narrowed. Opening her mouth to say something, she quickly stopped when Emma appeared, looking bashful.

"I forgot my note cards," she whispered under her breath, taking a seat next to him, and her mother sighed exasperated. Emma continued on, talking to her parents. "I'm sorry, I have just been out of sorts today - I can't figure out my up from my -"

Shifting in her full gown, its champagne fabric crinkling, she glanced at him with a polite smile, turning back to her mother to begin again before whipping her head back to look at him with wide eyes.

"Your Highness," Killian nodded, amused. Isaac had promised him recognition and was not to be out done, apparently. Emma retaining her memories of him would make this fantasy an entirely different sort of dream.

Emma stared at him with her mouth slightly parted, unable to speak. Her mother coughed, breaking the spell as Emma nodded in acknowledgement.

"I'm sorry Mother, I was saying I'm out of sorts today. I will introduce the new Captain with the generic toast and if you and Father want to add to his accolades, you can do so," she said calmly, back to ignoring him once again. Killian frowned slightly, but played with the small spoon in the place setting to stave off the wait until she would have a moment. "I think his brother wants to give the majority of the toast anyway, so no large fuss."

"Emma, are you okay then? Nothing else that we should confer about before this? We can push off toasts until after dancing and talk just you and I; you can talk to me about anything. I miss you so much," The Queen took Emma's hand in her own, squeezing it. Her eyes met his and she quickly looked back at Emma. "We can go right now; we don't have to even stay -"

Emma giggled, delighted. "I am not the only one out of sorts today then. When have you been one to tease like this?"

"Emma, I don't know what this is or -"

"I'm fine. I promise you that this is the last time I lose my note cards or smear ink on my dress from trying to get out of memorizing a speech." Emma gave a firm nod, and gave a squeeze back before she removed her hand from her mother's grip. "Let's get this over with so the new Captain can parade his awards around and we are closer to a foot rub."

Winking at the Queen, Emma turned to him.

"Hi!" she said, smiling brightly.

"Princess, I can't say that I haven't waited for this moment since -"

"I suppose that I must have seen you around during the war efforts, and I've heard of your heroics, but I admit that it is my mutual pleasure to meet you, Captain. You seem so familiar to me, but I owe you my life so many times over. I suppose that must be it?" Emma looked up at him, and his heart sank. There was no recognition there but the faintest notion of what they were to each other.

He smiled back, unable to help himself even as a strange sort of sadness ran through him. "I'd save your life as many times as you would let me, Princess."

"Oh, you are a silver tongue. I'm sure you are delighted by the turn out tonight," she snickered.

He shrugged, his smile going sad, the grief of losing this promised chance Isaac had failed to give them finally setting in fully. "I had someone, but they're gone now. The war took her."

Emma stiffened, her smile wiped clean away. "I'm so sorry. If I had known, I would have never -"

"It's fine love. I've been fortunate enough to find someone else who is so far more remarkable than anyone I dare to guess is also present with us. She doesn't remember me, which is a shame. I will win her heart again without fail and without trickery, as I have in the past. Hopefully, I'll remind her of everything that has come to pass between us." Reaching for her hand, she watched entranced as he lifted it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. The moment he touched them to the soft skin, she shivered, and something lit in the full pools of jade her pupils had become.

"After all," he whispered, smoothing over where he had kissed with his thumb as he lowered her hand. "I will always find her."

Emma looked stunned, her breathing slightly ragged as she tried to suck in a hiss of air in her tightly threaded gown. Turning to her mother who was talking with her father in a tense discussion of some sort, she choked out a whisper.

"Mom, Mother, I - you're right. Let's do the toasts after dancing and dinner, with dessert. It's unconventional, yes, but I need - I need a moment." Her mother looked alarmed, but Emma raised a finger. "I'm fine. Nothing is wrong, no code words dropped. I just - it's very warm in here isn't it? I think dancing will give me some air, or I can slip outside. I just need more time to compose myself."

"Alright, but Emma?" The Queen's tone was nothing but concern, her eyes no longer flicking to look at him, but darting to the corner of her eye like a Bogey-Man lay behind her. "If any of this feels wrong, strange, or just off, tell me. Do you understand?"

Emma nodded. The Queen stood, grabbing the King's arm and dragging him upwards. He shot Killian a look that was unmistakably displeased, but brushed it off almost immediately in a display of grateful hosting.

"Guests of honor, toasts will be held at dessert to lend more time to celebration. Please dance, and dinner will be served as soon as the time arises," the Queen announced, clapping her hands. The lights of the ballroom began to twinkle as she took to the dance floor with the King. The orchestra played louder once more, a slow and haunting tune that swelled beautifully as they spun.

"Princess?" he asked, leaning over far closer than he should. She smelled so lovely, the urge to kiss the juncture of her neck and shoulder where it peeked out from under the pleated neckline making him grit his teeth.

She stammered out something that wasn't quite a word, color creeping onto her cheeks. Taking a breath while he chuckled, she managed another try. "Yes? Yes, what is it that you need -"

"I would like to ask you for this dance, or several. I have no need , except to admit to you that I ask because you are beautiful beyond measure tonight." He stood, offering his hand. Although her face heated further and she gaped at him in shock, she took it quickly in her own without hesitation.

Her hand fit perfectly in his own as he remembered, and like so many times before he spun her into a waltz. It was hard to keep from pulling her too close the way he was accustomed too, already too informal and too forward here as it were. The court had so many risks, what he wouldn't give to be back in the village, the forest, the street fair, the tavern, so many lives layered together, or to have her remember -

"You dance like a magician," Emma said in wonder. More were joining them on the dance floor, but Emma swept them away in her radiance. She seemed to shimmer as if she was something imagined, even as he was sure she was real and so much more importantly, her. His Emma.

"Oh?" he grinned, twirling her. She laughed brightly at what here would be considered absurdity, a frivolous move that did not belong in dancing. If it was unbecoming, neither cared. "Do I now, princess? Pray tell?"

"You haven't stepped on my feet once, Captain. You anticipate my every move as if you are a seer. Even when you did whatever that spin was, I feel as though I'm floating on air in your lead. I have not danced like this in hundreds, probably thousands of dance partners, and rarely do I give such praise." Emma subtly shifted, moving her body slightly closer to his own. He hummed, leaning in slightly.

“Much better, with a partner who knows what they're doing,” Killian whispered into her ear, and she beamed up at him.

"I don't know what it is about you, but you're so familiar, like I know you. Like I should know you, and I feel like I'm drowning just by being in your presence. I… I've never known anything like this, Lieu - I mean Captain, sorry." They stopped, no longer spinning. They had ended up near the curtains where he had entered, sequestered away from the majority of prying eyes. Pressing her hands to his chest she traced a pattern in the heavy fabric. "You mean something to me in a way that hurts me to be away from you. Like knowing you're here makes me feel so safe, so cared for. Something is there, a deeper emotion; I just can't grasp it."

"Princess, I should -" he started, but Emma swayed towards him, closer still.

"Maybe we should stop dancing, I'm a bit dizzy…" Emma whispered, looking up at him with reverence.

Killian touched her face gently, bringing his forehead against her own. "We've stopped, darling."

"Oh. So we have." Her lips brushed against his palm, one of her hands reaching up to play with the hair on his neck, tugging slightly at the tie of his queue. "This feeling, this familiarity as if I've been through a hundred lives with you finding me…?"

"Yes?" he whispered, her fingers pulling him to her, bodies pressed tightly together even against her golden gown and his uniform.

Emma's touch moved around his neck to his jaw, her thumb's soft pad stroking the scar of his cheek. "Is it lo-"

"Lieute - Capt - Whatever you are !" the king hissed as he clapped a hand roughly on Killian’s shoulder, a grin on his face that was dangerous, his eyes wild. "A word, if you will."

"Daddy, please -" Emma started as the King pushed between them.

Her father's eyes flashed darkly, and Emma stepped back in surprise. The king composed himself, failing to cover his curled lips. "Emma, stay there and dance with someone else, but not like… Whatever the hell this was."

"I regret this interruption too, but I am nothing if not gracious, except dashingly handsome." Emma giggled at his humor, her father's glare at her causing her to cough instead, while Killian brushed off the King’s hand. He bowed before Emma, kissing her hand as her face flushed with red. "I await my next dance with you Princess, with hope that you will not suffer through thousands more partners before I return."

She laughed prettily, and curtsied. The King caught his shoulder as he rose, pulling him to stand and gripping his elbow like he meant to break it. Dragging him across the ballroom floor, only a few onlookers seemed to notice as everyone else danced. The Queen stood up, taking a few steps from her seat, Ingrid and Anna rising as well. Liam and Elsa were waltzing, and Killian tried to memorize the happiness on their faces. A stampede of wild horses could not distract them from gazing at each other, laughing as they turned. The King pulled him into the hallway briskly, passersby gasping and bowing as Killian was dragged past.

"Oi, er, your grace -"

"Shut up. Just shut up," the King gritted out, before opening a door and throwing Killian inside.

He'd been brought to a study, or small library he guessed, the walls paneled and bookshelves built into the rich wood. Several busts sat on shelves or rested on pillars, a globe and realm switcher sat opposite each other on either set of a large desk that was covered in scrolls. There were no windows, but the realm switcher emitted a light golden glow along with a few spread out wisp filled lamps. The King pushed past him, knocking him hard on the shoulder.

Killian examined his options, choosing to apologize and appeal to the status of the crown instead of battering the obstinate man with a chair and enjoying his time with Emma. He felt she might approve of one method over the other, even without bias involved.

"Your Majesty, I did not mean to offend, I had heard how lovely your daughter was -"

"Come off it then, Jones. Do you think even your status as Captain can buy access to the throne?" The King turned slightly to sneer, pushing around scrolls on the desk. "We aren't Arendelle, we are the crown. There are standards here, not sheer desperation; especially with the knowledge that your kingdom is doomed, causing a royal to settle for a Navy sea dog."

"Do you mean… Liam and Elsa?" The King’s eyes flicked up, and he shrugged. Killian took a steadying breath, now regretting his choice in options. "I assure you, sire, that pairing is very much a fine match from any purview except for yours. Her family and I were overjoyed -"

"Yes, because your title has been lost under your drunken coward of a father's yellow streak. Do you think I want that attached to our family?" He pointed a finger, the nail long. "You didn’t want it attached to you and your brother enough to enscript to the war as fast as you could."

"My father abandoned our house to my brother, who has worked tirelessly to make sure that the people of the Blackwater and surrounding areas are safe." Killian balled his fists, his patience thinning further. Emma had mentioned her father was stubborn and overwhelming when it came to anyone courting her, but this seemed off for one of her dreams.

"You look and act just like him, you know." the King chuckled with malice. He drummed on the desk "That's my major reservation. When I saw my daughter with you all I could think is, 'There goes another coward. When will he abandon her, and break Emma's heart?'"

Killian stared at the King, examining him closely. He seemed to blur and shimmer slightly, even after Killian blinked. In every other dream, the pattern had been the same: They would not separate if it was pleasant, as long as they had met, unless someone stepped in. Someone who had long fingernails, who spoke in words meant to bleed someone dry, and who did not use her own face.

"You are not Emma's father, are you?"

"So perceptive, my little hero. Pup caught the scent, and followed my trail. It's so much easier to convince you of being not worthy of her when there's that glorious Darkness rattling around in your head." The King leered at him, advancing with a swish of his hips, a black streak appearing in his hair.

"Cruella." He nodded, stepping backwards to pick up a previously spotted fireplace poker. Like most items in the realms, it was made of a hard obsidian instead of iron, and would crack easily after a few hard blows. He was at a great disadvantage, let alone being on her preferred playing field of the dreamscape.

Dramatically gesturing to the empty room, Cruella's laugh ran out of the King’s mouth.

"Hello puppy. Fancy meeting you here." The smirk settling on the King’s face was suddenly much redder, and unmistakably not his. "I got a whiff of that hairbrained scheme you, Lilly, and Isaac cooked up to stop me, and thought I might drop in. Good thing I did too, now I can see how tight I have to make your leash to keep you from taking Emma away from me."

"What did you do to her? She doesn't remember me at all!" Killian lunged, the King seeming to shimmer as the woman giggled.

He appeared next to Killian, patting his cheek, before reappearing in a wooden chair behind the desk, puffing on a long cigarette and throwing the poker aside. Killian dropped the ash she had left in his palm with disgust, now defenseless.

"Well puppy, you kept me from what I wanted, which is to say… your sweet little puppy love, Emma." She giggled again, green smoke coming from the King's nostrils. "You make her remember that there's something better than our perfect paradise for you two. You made her feel things other than happiness and sweet dreams, making us both suffer. She barely gave me any magic after trying to keep you from your fears. I've been trying to plague you with nightmare after nightmare, but you keep coming back to ruin her happy dreams by making her accommodate you. Milah for example, or your brother Liam, or Elsa, or your sweet mother Alice - Every time I try to torture them, kill them, crush them in ways to destroy you, she saves you from their torment. Emma deserves happiness, isn't that what you told poor Isaac?"

"This isn't happiness you bloody leeching witch - "

"Oh, but it is - when you aren't here to ruin it. So when you and Isaac chatted, I placed a curse of my own on poor sleeping Emma." She grinned, eyes narrowing at him. "Should anyone try to rescue her, the only way out will be through her worst nightmares, and I will torture her every step of the way until she goes mad at the sight of you. You're a prominent feature of her fears, so trust me, it will be easy. All I have to do if you keep meddling is let the curse run its course, nightmare after nightmare until she never wakes again and begs for happy thoughts."

"You wouldn't. You need her magic -"

"Fun little tiddy bit, love." Cruella let the ash of her cigarette rain on the desk. " Your fear made Emma's magic weaker, because she expended so much to keep you comfortable. But her fear is delicious, and so much easier to take. When she was scared for you, it blew me away. True nightmares only, of course. Absolutely mouth watering. When you are in a nightmare she is in, her fear is like finest champagne."

"You can't have her." Killian raised his voice, and she cackled harder.

"Oh but I will. Every second you are in her dreams will be an endless loop of nightmares, and I'll take every bit of her magic, until she withers into a husk, angry, afraid and alone." Her smile was her own, under the king's eyes. She stood, and was suddenly trailing a finger down his shoulder at his side. "Or you could leave. I could even try and give you that shard…"

"Damn the shard," He lunged, and she was back at the desk, giggling while taking a long pull of her cigarette. "I won't stop until Emma is free of this. Emma has Isaac's dream to go through, and then your buggering curse. I will be here for her, and I will get her out of here. She will wake up."

"She will never love you. She won't even remember this, and you, you monstrosity, you will never be able to love her." Cruella sneered through David's face, nails scratching the table.

Killian laughed, and the king's face turned to fury. "It doesn't matter. The future isn't something to be afraid of if I love her right now - and I do." The confirmation of this fact took him by surprise, but it was irrefutable. Warmth spread through him, then a fierce heat that furthered his determination. "Regardless of everything, I love her at this moment. Regardless of everything, this is who I am under the Darkness, trying to protect her, trying to break through against all odds. "

"You absolutely horrid little beast -"

The door creaked, and Cruella's form of David snapped back into place, nothing but the small red choker indicating the deception. Queen Snow entered the room, and Killian bowed.

"Ah, my love, this is poor timing I'm afraid." The king's voice was tinged with anger. He pointed at Killian. "This man is an imposter and a Goblin spy, we'll need to call the guard -"

"Oh, my!" Snow picked up a heavy bust, ready to throw it at him. Killian flinched slightly, braced for the impact. "Is Emma safe?"

"The princess should be -" Cruella turned towards the Queen in the king's form, just as she took both hands to lifted the bust above her head making to throw the heavy marble. Killian prepared himself, but instead watched as she brought it down on her husband's skull with a sickening crack. Cruella crumpled, her true form revealed as she began to fade away.

Killian blinked as Snow panted, wiping dust from her hands.

"Your Majesty, I - Um -"

Snow drew a sword, stalking towards him with fury in her eyes like flame, so much like Emma's, the blade pressed against his neck. She spoke lowly, the edge there sharper than her sword.

"That is not and was not my husband, Captain Liam has been dead for years, you are most definitely not a lieutenant, and this, this is a sleeping curse. My Daughter's sleeping curse. So start talking, Dark One. And don't you dare skip anything."

#Courtorderedcake #15th #February #2020 #February 15th 2020 #Hallow #CSSNS #CS AU #CS FF #Captain Swan

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cssns · 5 years

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Ok, sorry y’all! NOW here’s the monthly roundup for September!

Have y’all enjoyed all the INCREDIBLE updates we got last month? I know I did!! Please be sure to give our authors and artists all the love for all their hard work!!! And have a look at the end of the post for a VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!!! And now, without further ado, here we gooooooooo!!! Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

@snowbellewells completed A Story Told at Last. Rated T. Artwork by @branlovestowrite.

Historical Literature Professor Henry Mills has the chance of a lifetime before him. He might finally uncover the truth of a folktale that has intrigued him for years. But, when the whole story comes to light, will he be able to accept the story that needs to be told?

@let-it-raines completed Not Your (Soul)Mate. Rated M. Artwork by @captainsjedi.

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

@courtorderedcake posted Roses, a CS rendering of the classic fairytale Tam Lin. Rated E. Artwork by @eastwesthomeisbest.

A CS retelling of Tam Lin, the classic fairytale.

Liberties taken. Magic and Fae BS in play.

@teamhook posted Rionnag Dorcha Gorm (Dark Blue Star). Not rated. Artwork by @hollyethecurious.

It is said that evil is not born but made. This is how an act of kindness is twisted into a story about revenge. Emma and Killian are childhood friends until a tragedy separates them will another reunite them.

From last years event, @kymbersmith-90 updated Divine Intervention. Rated E. Artwork by @hollyethecurious.

Brothers Liam and Killian Jones are on the hunt for their father, Brennan Jones, who has gone missing in his hunt for the supernatural creature that killed their mother. But along the way, the brothers discover that the supernatural world is much bigger than they could ever have imagined.

And someone else has big plans for one of them.

@thejollyroger-writer completed What Happened in Berkshire. Rated G. Artwork by @captainsjedi.

When Emma’s boyfriend leaves her for the woman he’s been cheating with, she accepts an offer from her hospital to move to England. While she is out celebrating her thirtieth birthday with her friends before they head back to America, she drunkenly kisses the statue of Captain Hook in front of Eton College, and he comes to life. Together, he and Emma try to figure out what this curse means for them by searching for the witch that cursed him in the first place — are they really True Love, as he wants to believe they are, or did Emma’s magic go awry?

From last year’s event, @seriouslyhooked updated Lost Souls and Reveries. Rated M. Artwork by @shipsxahoy.

Killian Jones is a wolf shifter without roots, without plans, and without a pack. He’s a rogue, someone humans should avoid and shifters should be wary of given his lineage. But one night years back set him on a path he didn’t realize he was taking, a path leading to the future he was destined for. That future is tied up in one woman – a human named Emma Nolan. Together Emma and Killian will find not only answers but a love that’s truly fated. But will love be enough to set both of them free, or will past demons win out in the end?

@snowbellewells updated Face to Face in the Broad Daylight, her sequel to last years fic, Run to Me (In the Dead of Night). Rated T. Artwork by @branlovestowrite.

Here we have a sequel to my werewolf, alternate season two and beyond fic from last year’s CSSNS. You probably want to read that story "Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)" first, or it might be a bit confusing in places. This second story in the same universe partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, we may also see them get into some new surprises and challenges, and of course we need to see if Rumplestiltskin is still under control or back to his usual scheming and plotting. I hope you will enjoy. I’m so glad to be part of this event again, and this is just the opening chapter.

@courtorderedcake updated Hallow with accompanying artwork 1 2. Rated E.

"The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King's will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time."

@jarienn972 updated A Simple Spell. Rated T. Artwork by @cocohook38.

This story is my entry into the 2019 Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event and is my first venture into AU territory. Storybrooke remains our setting but I've switched up some of the characters and familial relations to better suit this tale of prodigal witch Emma who returns to her birthplace to learn lots of secrets about herself and cast a spell that could change everything.

@whimsicallyenchantedrose updated Until the Stars Are All Alight, her CS LOTR au. Rated T. Artwork by @clockadile.

When Emma Swan steals a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, she has no idea it will lead her toward an adventure filled with danger and intrigue, sacrifice and a love stronger than anything she could imagine. Tasked with bringing the Savior home, the elf, Killian Jones of Misthaven travels to the Land Without Magic. Can he convince Emma to fulfill her destiny before the Dark One regains power and takes over all of the Enchanted Forest?

@welllpthisishappening completed All Was Golden In the Sky. Rated M. Artwork by @resident-of-storybrooke. Chapter artwork by @distant-rose and extra artwork by @optomisticgirl can be found on Laura’s blog posts.

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

And finally, we had original art post from @djlbg.

WOW!!! I mean… WOW!!! What a MONTH!!! We had 4 fics complete, 2 updates from last years event, original art, and all the other updates in between!!! I’m so thankful to be a part of such a talented and prolific fandom!!! Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your participation and enthusiasm!! I can’t wait to do this again next year!!!

Which brings me to the VERY IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!!! CSSNS 2020 is a GOOOOO!!!!! We’ve had a tremendous response for the past two years and so we’ll do it for one more year. So for those of you who have participated either year and want to do it again, for those of you who just recently joined the fandom, or for those of you who, like me, have just started writing or arting, start thinking about what you might like to do next year. Signups will open in late January and I can’t wait to see what everyone comes up with!! So spread the word!!! Any questions, be sure to send us an ask, or you can contact me directly at @kmomof4.

I’ll be back in November with the monthly roundup for October. Until then y’all!

#cssns #monthly roundup #September #September roundup #cssns2020 #is a goooo #I can't wait!!!

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thehappyspaceman · 4 years

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Assorted Thoughts on The Dragon Prince Book Three

Hey guys, TheHappySpaceman here. The Dragon Prince. What more do I need to say about it other than what I’ve already covered in my first two reviews? Well, a lot actually.

I was impressed with the show’s improvement from Book One to Book Two and was super excited for where it was set to go in the future. Since then, I have joined the TDP fanbase and supported the show by making memes, reactions, AMVs, oneshots, and plenty of fanart. However, when info dropped last month about Aaron Ehasz and the workplace environment at Wonderstorm potentially not being so good, I didn’t know what to make of it, and as more and more info came out, I became even more confused. Though the fanbase was becoming incredibly toxic due to the near-constant infighting, I promised myself that I would still stick around for Book Three, seeing how excited I had been for it before the controversy, but I almost wondered if it would be worth it.

So, after so many accusations and hollow words thrown around, and after nine months of anticipation… how does it hold up?

…Oh! Okay, wow, this season was a ton of fun. And yes, it’s exactly as good as I figured it would be after seeing Book Two. Everything I could have hoped for from this series really goes full-force here and it rarely if ever lets off the brakes.

The Story

After a brief intro as exposition, the plot starts immediately after the events of the Book Two finale where Callum and Rayla have entered Xadia and have to face many challenges along the way, including archdragon Sol Regem, Rayla’s hometown, and a rogueish elf thief. All the while, Ezran arrives back to Katolis and has to face the challenges of dealing with being king of a country that he finds in chaos, being pressured to enter war and be the king that Harrow was, while Soren and Claudia are confronted with the decision between helping their own father wage war against Xadia or joining their friends.

The Characters

This season introduced a number of interesting new characters. We got to meet some more dragons, for one thing, and while hearing them speak was pretty jarring at first (they talk normal English, which is strange since we’ve never heard them speak before), it turned out to be pretty awesome in establishing the characters. Most notably, we meet Sol Regem, the dragon who appeared in the opening of the series and was on many of the posters, and I’m surprised how he kind of turns out to be a major dick. Since was on so much of the promo materials for the show, I wasn’t figuring this, but he wound up being a racist jackass who was willing to kill our protagonists, including the young dragon prince Zym, all because of his hatred of humans.

He’s not the only dragon we meet. We also meet Avizandum, otherwise known as Thunder, the late King of the dragons, in flashbacks, and we get to see just how he died. As well, we get Zubeia, Zym’s mom, and Pyrrha, a dragon who Ezran had met in the prior season and befriends. My favorite one might be a nameless dragon who is unchained by Soren and nuzzles him. That’s a really cute scene.

We also meet a lot of new elves this season. Of particular note is Ethari, the Moonshadow elf blacksmith who had been seen in the end credits for Book One and had previously been given the fan name “Tinker.” There was a lot of fan speculation that Ethari was Runaan’s boyfriend and that the two of them raised Rayla together while her parents were gone. Well, this season proves that theory entirely false. No, Ethari is Runaan’s husband. Again, way to go with LGBT+ rep, Wonderstorm (especially since the episode that introduces Ethari was written by a woman in the LGBT+ community)! Ethari’s dynamic with Rayla is also very interesting and shows that he truly does care about her even after her town essentially banished her.

This season officially introduces us to Janai, the Sunfire elf that Amaya was battling in Book Two. I find it interesting how, in many ways, the two characters perfectly mirror each other: Both women are highly dedicated to their duty of their respective countries, and both of them are sisters of royalty, with Janai’s elder sister being the Sunfire Queen. This gives them an interesting dynamic with their interactions. Also of note is Kazi, Amaya’s translator this season who kind of gives off C-3PO vibes. Every scene with them is very funny.

Additionally, this season introduces us to a whole new race of elf: Skywing elves! It only makes sense, since we’ve already met Moonshadow, Sunfire, and Startouch elves; that only leaves two more to go. The two Skywing elves we meet are Ibis, a mage who works directly for the dragon queen Zubeia; and my personal favorite, Nyx, a loveable rogue type of character who our heroes meet when crossing the midnight desert. Man, I love Nyx, and yet, I feel like this season doesn’t do enough with her. I mean, they introduce her in episode four, and then she just kind of disappears after episode six. I was hoping that she’d play a bigger role, especially seeing how hyped up she was in the trailers for this season. Still, maybe she’ll appear again. She played an interesting part as an antagonist and I’d like to see her come back.

Speaking of antagonists, how about this guy? Prince Kasef. Man, the writers wanted to make a real jerk type of character and they succeeded. He’s the warmongering son of King Ahling who takes over after his dad’s injuries from last season. Outside of a cool design, there is nothing redeemable about this character. I’m not faulting the show for this, for the record. It seems like it was the writers’ intention to make him a complete asshole, very comparable to Viren in a lot of ways. Kasef is taken down in a pretty spectacular way, for the record, and it’s hard to say he’ll be missed.

But of all the new characters introduced, to me the real standout character of the season is one of the main leads from all the way back in Book One. Man… Soren is just great this season. After breaking his spine in Book Two, we get to see him go through so much character development beyond just being the dumb comic relief. He starts to question what is right, what side he should be on, and he is put through so much hell in the process, but he comes out better for it in the end. Leave it to the head writer of Avatar: The Last Airbender to make me feel sympathetic for a character like this.

The Animation

Holy crap, the animation in this season is so damn impressive! Bardel Entertainment already fixed the animation in a major way between Book One and Book Two, but this season gives us some seriously amazing moments that I never would have expected from this show after watching Book One. Everything feels so much more fluid this season, even more improved than Book Two in that respect. The backgrounds are downright stunning, too. They feel so real, like you could actually be there with the characters. One of the major gripes I did have with the first two seasons was the facial animation, and how the mouths kind of looked derpy and unexpressive, perhaps due to the CGI medium the characters were animated in. But here, everyone is so emotive and expressive that you can watch the season without audio and still understand what’s going on. There’s a particular scene with Amaya and Janai that I’ll get into later that perfectly shows this. This isn’t only in the mouths, either; we also see little details like characters’ pupils dilating, or the elves’ ears slumping down or perking up depending on the mood. These were little touches that they didn’t have to include, but the fact that they did makes it so much more of an enjoyable watch, because you notice new little details each time you watch it.

The Relationships

I don’t usually have a separate section in my previous season reviews about this, but this season was heavily based on character relationships as much as individual characters, whether they be relationships between family members, friends, comrades in battle, or romantic partners. Just a warning: This section will get into spoiler territory. If you have not watched the season before reading this, I strongly advise you to stop reading and go do that.

The first relationship I’d like to talk about returns to Soren. During the course of this season, he starts to question the morals of his father, Viren, and Soren has to struggle between his duties to his father and his duties to his country as a member of the crownguard. We get the sense that Claudia has always been Viren’s favorite, and that the abuse and gaslighting Soren has to deal with in this season is nothing new and Viren’s contempt for his son has been building up a long time. Soren’s relationship with Claudia strains in this season until, when not wanting to make his sister choose between him or Viren, Soren cuts ties with her. The scene where he says goodbye and leaves is genuinely a heartbreaking one, and in general, you can feel the emotions all the characters are going through.

With Amaya and Janai, the two form a mutual respect over the course of the season. Amaya defeats Janai at the breach, but when seeing that the Sunfire general is hanging for her life, she ultimately saves Janai from dying. As the days go on and Amaya becomes a prisoner, Janai defends her against the Sunfire queen and they soon form a friendship that hints that it might lead to something more. But the scene that really increases the characters’ development is when Aaravos straight-up murders the Sunfire Queen. This sends Janai into a rage and she runs in, willing to risk her own life to avenge the death of her sister, but Amaya tackles her to the ground and gives her a solemn look of understanding, of knowing how it feels to lose her own sister. This little exchange is very powerful. I’ve always said that a scene is effective if it manages to give you chills without any dialogue, just letting the music and animation speak on its own, and, well, this scene passes that test. (Major shout-out to Frederik Wiedmann’s score, by the way; it really shines in this entire season.)

And… well, okay, there’s no use dodging it anymore. Let’s talk about these two.

Rayla and Callum. Oh boy. So, remember in my last review how I said it was likely that Rayla and Callum were going to get together by the end of the show? Well, since this show has a planned seven-season run, I was expecting it to happen way later, like in Book Six, or more likely for them to pull the Last Minute Hookup thing where they confess their love and finally kiss at the end of the last season. That trope always frustrates me, but it’s a good way of stretching out the romantic tension for as long as possible to keep fans interested, so I figured that’s what was going to happen, right? Well…

Yeah, I went into this season expecting a slow burn, but instead we got a freaking forest fire. Holy crap, I was not expecting them to hook up this early in the show. And it didn’t happen in the last episode, either; no, they shared their first kiss in episode four, smack in the middle of the season. And you know what? I’m all for that. The writers handled their relationship really well and it felt surprisingly believable and not rushed despite happening so soon. It hasn’t been confirmed how long Callum and Rayla have known each other for, but I’ve calculated that it’s been anywhere between 20-30 days since they first met, which is more than enough time to fall in love. Part of why it works is that the dynamic didn’t really change much. They already had a beautiful friendship, and the only thing that has changed between them is that there’s now more kissing. I wouldn’t have depicted their relationship any other way if I had made it canon. This does open up the question of where they’re going to go with it in future seasons, but as usual, I trust the writers not to screw it up. I may honestly dedicate a whole post to why Rayla and Callum’s relationship works, but we’ll see if I have time for that.

Other Stuff (incl. spoilers)

For the most part, the humor in this season is on point. With the exception of an oddly-placed fart joke in episode two, I found myself laughing at most of the scenes where I was supposed to laugh. Highlights include Soren putting stacking three pieces of bread to make a “bread sandwich,” Callum seeing a boomerang and finding it “oddly familiar” (hi, Sokka), and Nyx taking the dragang (Callum, Rayla, and Zym) past a magical forcefield protecting an oasis, saying, “Anyway, here’s the wonderwall.” I had to do a double take with that because I was laughing so hard. Though I think my personal favorite may be when Ibis laughs at Callum because “humans can’t do magic” and Callum does this.

Just, the look on his face. He’s so done and it’s hilarious.

One thing I was surprised by in this season was the sheer amount of violence. This one really does feel like an all-out war. Apparently, the violence was enough to get it rated TV 13 in some countries (though it’s still listed as TV Y-7 here) and honestly, I can see why. There’s an all-out battle scene in the last episode that could be compared to the climax of Return of the King. Everyone is fighting each other; even the Baker from Book One gets a few punches in there! Not only that, but there are a huge number of onscreen deaths in this season. As previously mentioned, we get to see the Sunfire Queen be Thanos’d. Prince Kasef gets a pretty spectacular death when Queen Aanya has a Big Damn Heroes moment and shoots an arrow through his head. Not to mention that we get to see Viren die not once, but twice! Even though Claudia resurrects him using dark magic, it’s still pretty great to see because he’s a turd. (No offense to Jason Simpson, though—love ya.)

By far the hardest death scene to watch, however, is the death of Avizandum, the Dragon King. In the flashbacks, we get to see how Harrow and Viren killed him, and, well… it’s really painful. The death, by way of petrification, is shown to be slow and agonizing, and Avizandum is shown tearing off his wings in a futile attempt to survive just to make it back to Zubeia. Even Harrow is mortified, with a look of “Oh god, what have I done?” on his face. In his last moments, Avizandum sheds a tear knowing that he will never be able to see his son grow up, and we as the audience are given a grim reminder that everyone… is a person. Even our enemies have families they care about. Avizandum may have been a gigantic, powerful dragon who hated humans, but at the end of the day he was still a dad who wanted to protect his son.

My One Complaint

Okay, so I’ve talked about everything I love about this season, and how it has significantly increased the show’s potential. With all that said, why can’t I give this season my full props? Well… I’ll be honest, it’s because of the pacing. Remember how I said this season rarely if ever lets off the brakes? Yeah, that’s both a blessing and a curse. There are a lot of people online who believe that Rayla and Callum’s relationship was rushed, and I somewhat agree with them, but only to the same end that everything in this season felt rushed. Nine episodes just isn’t enough time for each season. This has been a problem I’ve had with previous seasons, too, but here, it felt especially rushed because so much happened in this season that it felt like we couldn’t dedicate enough time to everything. I’m not saying that every season needs to be twenty episodes long like Avatar—especially since, with four more proposed seasons, we’re already supposed to be getting more episodes than Avatar if all goes according to plan—but 10-13 episodes per season would probably be beneficial for future ones, especially since future arcs of the show are overall going to be shorter (only two seasons each instead of three). Or hell, maybe make the episodes longer. Of course, if that’s my biggest gripe with this season, then we still have it pretty good, let’s be honest.

Where Do We Go from Here?

So, the question remains, where does the show go from here? There are supposed to be four more seasons, but the final episode of Book Three, titled “The Final Battle,” honestly feels like a series finale in a lot of ways: There’s a big epic climax, Rayla and Callum are together, Zym is reunited with his mom, and the elves and humans have formed an alliance, if only temporary. It all seems too easy, doesn’t it? My guess is that this was meant as a pseudo-series finale just in case Netflix doesn’t renew the show for a fourth season.

However, as I’ve rewatched the season, I noticed that they still leave a lot of loose ends. Most notably, Aaravos is seeming to metamorphize and grow outside of his mirror. Judging by how Aaravos really let loose in this series, I can’t wait to see more of him as a villain and find out about his backstory. Also, Rayla was ghosted—or banished—from her hometown after failing her mission in Book One. Will she ever be able to go home again? On a related note, what did happen to her parents? Are we to assume they were trapped in coins like Runaan (and speaking of which, will Runaan ever get out)? There are also other unresolved plot points, like Claudia’s path down the road of dark magic, Viren’s ex-wife, and Callum’s dad. The last one is especially interesting to me, since it would be cool to know if Callum is secretly half-elf, which is why he knows how to do primal magic. Oh, and my question from last season about whether Harrow’s soul is in Pip’s body still remains. So it seems like they left enough open-ended so that they could continue with a new season.

I do hope to see how Rayla and Callum’s relationship develops in the future, though that may just be the shipper in me talking. But in all seriousness, this does open up some potential. As far as we know, Rayla and Callum are the first human/elf couple, so how is that received? Will they be judged by others? Will certain problems arise from this? I hope the upcoming seasons explore this and don’t just pull the usual romance clichés, though the writers have been pretty good at avoiding those so far.

I also have to wonder: When interviewed, the creators of The Dragon Prince said that there would be a time skip between Book Three and Book Four, since each of them is part of a separate story arc. How much of a time skip will it be? I can’t imagine that it will be over a year, but if it is, I hope they don’t do one of those things where since the main cast is too old now, they replace all the main characters with new ones and expect the audience to get invested in them. I highly doubt they will do that, though. It would be too jarring.

Conclusion

If you have been sleeping on The Dragon Prince, I highly urge you to check it out. Book Three is everything I had hoped the first two seasons would be, and more. With fantastic animation, likable characters that go through unique development, and a downright beautiful score (seriously, major props to Frederik Wiedmann), it wonderfully wraps up the first major arc of this series. I hope Netflix renews the show for all seven seasons, because this one has left me wanting more.

~Spaceman

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marvelmando · 5 years

Text

tempest [p.parker x o.c.] - ten

notes: and we come to the close of part 1!! and perfect timing too, because today i turn twenty :D thank you all so much for your lovely birthday wishes, you guys are the absolute sweetest. as a present from me to all of you, here’s the conclusion of the first part of my tempest series! hope you all enjoy <3

contains: some swearing, violence

pairing: peter parker + fem! o.c.

word count: 4k

previous chapter next chapter tempest masterlist

THE FIRST THING MARIN NOTICED WHEN SHE REGAINED CONSCIOUSNESS WAS THE PITCHED RINGING IN HER EARS. She peeled her eyes open slowly, taking in the sights around her.

Fires had cropped up everywhere, debris of all sizes and shapes littering the sand. Her hearing was muffled like her head had been submerged underwater. But as the seconds passed, she registered the bangs and crashes coming from somewhere to the side of her.

She twisted her body on the ground and saw that about of hundred feet away, the Vulture had slammed Peter's body into the sand so violently that Marin's gasp contorted in her throat. Then, as her vision stopped swimming, Toomes pierced the hood of Spider-Man's hoodie with the tip of his wing and raised him high into the air. Peter's limp body dangled uselessly like a rag doll, and Marin's heart twisted in her chested.

Enraged, Marin scrambled to her feet and charged at the Vulture with a strangled scream. Somewhere in her, her years of training resisted against the scream because she knew it would give away her intentions, but her rage busted out of her like a flood crashing through a damn. Unconcerned and without giving it much thought, Toomes only swung his unoccupied wing in a deep arc, slamming it into Marin's exposed body and throwing her to the side.

The impact forced the air from her chest, Marin curling up in agony. Some of the razor-sharp edges sliced into her stomach and the burning sting on her cheek told her that she'd been cut there as well.

Distantly, Marin realized that the Vulture had dropped Peter, flying over his unmoving body. Grunting with pain as she gasped for air, Marin saw the sparks shooting out of his wings as he approached a crate spilling with arc reactors. If Toomes was integrating those alien devices in his suit like she strongly suspected, then the damage that had caused his wings to spark and buzz like that could only mean one thing.

"Peter," Marin wheezed, trying to inch towards him. A fleeting thought told her to radio Lucy and James, but with a touch to her ear, Marin realized that her earpiece must've fallen out during the crash.

"Peter!" Marin finally reached him, grabbing his arm. He slowly lifted his head, sand stuck to the hair and cheek dampened with sweat and blood. "Peter, his wings—"

Peter tried to prop himself up, evidently recovering much quicker than Marin was. Then again, he did have enhanced healing abilities. He stared at Toomes, who was rummaging through the wreck. "Your wings," Peter croaked out, but Toomes either didn't hear him or didn't care because he began to lift off with the crate of arc reactors clutched in his talons. "Your wing suit's gonna explode!"

The whirring was getting exponentially louder, and Peter struggled to lift a hand to stick a web to the crate, pulling with all of his might. Marin tried to stand, but the pain radiating from the cuts in her abdomen caused her to fall back to her knees. With an outstretched arm, she pulled at the ocean water and grabbed the crate with one hand controlling the surge of water, and the other cradling her bleeding stomach.

Unrelenting, Toomes shook his head and faced them. "Time to go home, kids."

"We're..." Peter gasped, and screamed, "Trying to save you!"

The Vulture cut the web, the sudden loss of pressure jerking the crate back and out of Marin's already weak grasp. Marin fell backward as the water splashed into the sand, and the Vulture began to take off.

Peter tried shooting another web as the wings' mechanics whirred at dangerously loud levels, but the vial clicked in the shooter, empty.

Marin looked up to see the wings give off one more giant set of sparks before plummeting to the sand in a small explosion. Peter and Marin covered their heads, then watched in horror as flames erupted where Toomes had landed.

"No," Peter breathed and got to his feet, sprinting over to the fallen man.

"Shit, Peter." Marin winced hard and gathered the strength to stand. She hobbled over, only needing a little bit of her energy to grab another wave of water to smother the flames as best as she could. Suddenly, a figure appeared next to her, two dark arms outstretched. It was Lucy, taming the fires as she approached Peter and Toomes. Marin knew her friend was in good hands and as she released the water, she would've collapsed if it weren't for James rushing to catch her. He hoisted her with one arm underneath her shoulder blades, and lifted his other hand to her temple, sending encouragements and soothing warmth through her mind.

She was feeling slightly better, the pain in her stomach and arm more manageable than before, and was able to stand on her own. She straightened to see Lucy extinguished the flams so Peter could carry Toomes' limp body to safety.

Peter dumped him at a clear spot, and Marin hurried to crouch over Peter as he coughed and grabbed at his chest. He clutched his shoulder as she helped him to his feet, and Marin saw Toomes become alert, looking up at Spider-Man incredulously.

After a moment, Marin looked to James and nodded. James lowered himself over Toomes, put his fingers to his temple, and the Vulture slumped into unconsciousness once more.

Peter's gasp caught Marin's attention. "How..."

"These," Marin grunted, letting go of Peter. "Are my friends."

Stunned silent, Peter could only nod.

Together, they tied Toomes up to one of the still (mostly) intact crates (that also wasn't on fire) and waited as Peter wrote a note using a nearby marker and piece of paper, and sticking it to the wood next to his head. Peeking at it, Marin read, "FOUND FLYING VULTURE GUY –SPIDER-MAN + FRIENDS", and below that, in smaller letters: "p.s. sorry about your plane".

Marin chuckled as they all headed down the beach together, to where the jet was parked far away from all of the debris.

Peter was supporting Marin as they walked, with one arm under her shoulder. "So, are you guys mutants, too, or something?"

+++

Marin, Lucy, and James had returned to the Institute that next morning to find that most of the students welcomed them all back like heroes. Marin later learned, after having a conversation with Mary, that they'd all seen the events unfold on the news, and watched and cheered her on into the earlier morning.

There'd been footage from a shot in the sky where the viewer got a good look of Marin's face, which was easily recognizable despite the blood and sand caking her skin.

Even three days later, Marin was still being clapped on the back, commended, and complemented by her peers as she walked the halls. Charles had given her the full weekend to rest before interrogating her, for which she was immensely grateful.

"And what happened after you left Coney Island?" Charles asked amicably once he called her in for a report. Marin was the last to go; James and Lucy had already given theirs earlier that morning.

"We took the jet back to Forest Park where I then walked Spider-Man back to his apartment." Although Lucy and James knew Peter's secret, Marin wasn't comfortable with divulging it to anyone else, if she could help it. "Then Lucy figured it would probably be a good idea to pick up some fast food, so we stopped at the closest restaurant that was open and ate until, like, three in the morning. Then we came back, and that's it."

Marin chose to leave out the part where Peter had let her inside his bedroom so that Marin could help heal some of his more artificial wounds with water from the sink in his bathroom.

Charles hummed, studying her. "And what happens now?"

Marin blinked. "Sorry?"

"What do you want to do now, Miss Frost?" Charles repeated, though not unkindly. If there was one thing Charles was never, it was impatient.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Professor." Marin furrowed her brows.

"Do you plan on staying at the Institute?"

Marin scoffed lightly. "I'm not sure where else I could go, Professor. I'm still not sure that Spider-Man has completely forgiven me, and Tony Stark no-doubt still hates my guts because he still thinks I killed my parents, so this is kind of the only place I can stay."

Charles narrowed his eyes at her curiously. "But you don't want to stay here, do you?"

He may have said that he was not able to read her mind just yet, but Marin was beginning to doubt that. She blew back a section of her bangs with a huff. "I never did." She answered honestly, feeling only a slight bit of shame.

"How so?"

Marin searched for the right words. "I never really belonged here, did I? I mean, from the moment I got here, I was constantly at odds with everyone around me. A part of myself was taken away from me, and I don't think my memories will ever be quite the same, again. But it's not entirely because of you," she rushed to explain when she saw the guilt creep onto Charles' face. "I've yet to find myself at this place. I know what I want, but I'm not sure I'm strong enough to get it." She looked down at her hands.

"What is it that you want, Miss Frost?"

Marin carded a restless hand through her hair, sighing out a laugh. "It seems stupid, now. But ever since I got these powers, I wanted to use them to save people. And when we watched the Battle of New York through a TV screen instead of through our own eyes, I wanted to be an Avenger. Being in the X-Men program was as close as I could get to being a superhero, and as soon as I saw the chance to prove myself, I took it. But I... I've really blown it. I had the chance; I was so close—and I failed. And now, after losing Spider-Man and Mr. Stark's trust, I'm beginning to think that maybe I was wrong." Marin lowered her gaze, and this time, she let her bangs dangle in front of her eyes. "That I really don't have what it takes to be a superhero."

The Professor was silent for a full minute. "You're right." He stated simply, and Marin lifted her head to look at him, half offended, half disbelieving, and just a smidge surprised. "You don't belong here, Marin." He smiled gently at her. "You have so much good in your heart—so much bravery—and you just need the opportunity to use it. And you won't be able to use it here."

Marin returned his smile, but it faded once reality caught up to her. "But... how? I'm still stuck here."

Charles gave her a private smirk. "It would seem, Marin Frost, that you are not."

+++

There was a car waiting for her. Shouldering her new duffel bag full of clothes and any remaining memorabilia, Marin looked to Lucy and James, who were standing in front of her.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye," Marin said, surprisingly sad. "At least for now, right?"

Lucy nodded. "Of course, Marin." She wrapped her in a tight hug, then pulled back. "This isn't forever."

James took his turn. "You'll do great things, Marin Frost."

Marin gave them each a genuine smile and turned to approach the car. Happy Hogan was at the backseat door on the passenger side, and with one hand he opened the door, grabbing her duffel bag with the other. She thanked him and slid into the seat. She startled to see Peter already in the seat beside her.

"Jesus, Peter!" She gasped, clutching her chest.

"It's just Peter," he snarked. Marin rolled her eyes and buckled herself in.

Happy got back into the driver's seat and pulled away from the mansion. Marin didn't look back.

"Do you have any idea where we're going?" Marin whispered to Peter, settling in her seat.

"No one told you?"

"No, they just said to pack a bag of my things," Marin shifted her eyes to look at Happy's reflection in the rear-view mirror. "Nothing about the destination, though."

"Mr. Stark wants to see us," Peter whispered conspiratorially. "Upstate."

Marin's eyes widened. "I figured it had something to do with Mr. Stark once I saw Happy, but upstate? Really?"

"You know I can hear you two, right?" Happy said without taking his eyes off of the road.

Marin shrugged at him. "How far away is upstate?" She said at a normal level.

"About an hour, so find a way to entertain yourselves without bothering me." He grumbled, and Marin raised one eyebrow.

"Is he always this grumpy?" She asked Peter, her voice hushed again.

"Sometimes he's worse." He whispered back.

"I can still hear you!"

Peter and Marin snickered as he raised the partition.

+++

"Oh, that's great!"

"Yeah, Michelle really deserved it, especially after winning Nationals for—"

"We're here," Happy called from the front. At some point during the trip, he'd lowered the partition again, but not before they'd promised not to bug him. "Take a look; pretty impressive, huh?"

"Whoa," Marin breathed.

The building they were driving by was only a few stories tall, but each floor must've been at least fifteen feet, and the whole building stretched on for at least an acre. Massive windows lined the entire length of the front-facing wall, the panes glittering in the afternoon sun. There were other, smaller buildings surrounding that main one, but the Avengers symbol built into the side wall drew Marin's eye as they drove along the paved road.

"They just finished remodeling the whole thing." Happy was saying, and Marin turned to see Peter's awed expression.

They'd hurried into the building as soon as Happy had parked the car, dashing up the steps and looking around with amazement. The ceilings seemed to stretch on infinitely high, and Marin practically pressed her nose to the windows. "Pete, look!" She pointed excitedly at a Quinjet taking off. He jogged over, his smiling growing wider as he followed the rising jet.

"You don't see that every day." Happy quipped proudly as the two turned to follow him.

"Oh, there they are!"

Marin blanched as she saw Tony Stark approach the group with his hands casually tucked in his pockets. Her excitement fizzled into fear, and despite knowing that he was the one who summoned her, she subtly moved so that her body was mostly concealed by Peter's.

She tried to avoid Mr. Stark's gaze as he tried to dismiss Happy, only for the bodyguard to relent and trail behind as they walked. Mr. Stark stepped towards them, punching Peter playfully on the shoulder and mussing up Marin's hair. She wasn't breathing.

Then, Mr. Stark threw his arms over his shoulders and began to walk jovially, as if the last time he saw her, he hadn't yelled at her and exposed her darkest secrets.

"I'm sorry I reacted like that," Mr. Stark said to Marin. "Charles called me the day after to correct himself, and gave me a play-by-play on how he was wrong, you weren't a murderer, blah, blah, blah..." then to Peter, "And I'm sorry I took your suit. I mean, you had it coming. Actually, it turns out it was the perfect sort of tough-love moment that you needed, right? To urge you on, right? Wouldn't you think?"

"Uh, I—yeah," Peter stammered.

"Let's just say it was." Mr. Stark said, then sighed happily. They walked for a measure until Marin found the courage to speak.

"Mr. Stark, I really—"

"You screwed the pooch hard—both of you." He interrupted her. "Big time. But then you both did the right thing. Took the dog to the free clinic, you raised the hybrid puppies... all right, not my best analogy." He paused to think. "I was wrong about you. And I was really wrong about you, Miss Frost. I think, with a little more mentoring, you both could be real assets to the team."

"The team?"

They came to a stop at a wall with two sets of doors on either side and a large half-circle wall extending outward, marked with the Avengers symbol.

"Yeah. Anyway..." Mr. Stark pointed haphazardly to the set of doors on the left. "There's about fifty reporters behind that door. Real ones, not bloggers." He tapped twice on his wristwatch, and the circular wall opened up to reveal a secret compartment. Inside, two mannequins swiveled up.

The one on the right looked like Spider-Man's, but instead of vibrant cloth fabrics, this suit was made of a reflective metal; the blues and reds more muted, and overall had a gray-undertone and looked like a Spider-Man version of an Iron Man suit. It was impressive, but the one on the left made Marin inhale sharply.

The suit decorating the mannequin on the left resembled that of Black Widow's tight leather suit, except this one was not as tight, was decidedly not black. The large, golden emblem of a lightning bolt was the first thing that caught Marin's eye, positioned center on the chest. Geometric strips of matching gold extended outward from the lightning bolt, wrapping around her bust and shoulders in harsh lines. The rest of the suit was an electric aquamarine, the same color as her energy. Blocks of light gray fabric covered the armor plates on her forearms and shoulders, as well as matching gray shin-high boots. But there was no mask, she noticed, the mannequin bare from the neck-up.

"Why don't you guys try them on?" Tony Stark prompted, Peter and Marin stepping forward to examine the suits closer. "And I'll introduce the world to the newest official members of the Avengers: Spider-Man and..." Mr. Stark trailed off, pointing at Marin. "I'm sorry, do you really go by 'Rain'? Because I'm gonna be honest, it's kind of lame."

Marin chuckled, still in awe from the suit. "I hate it," she murmured, running her fingers lightly over the fabric. "'Rain', I mean, not the suit—god, the suit's amazing—"

"You sound like Pete." Mr. Stark laughed to himself, though Marin had no idea what he meant. "Figured out a better one, then?" He quirked an eyebrow.

"No, I don't... I don't really have another one." Marin frowned, and saw Peter glance at her out of the corner of her eye.

"Tempest," Peter said suddenly, causing Marin to pivot and look at him. "What about 'Tempest'? Cause of the water, and stuff. Like a storm,"

Marin felt her lips curl into a large, toothy smile as she nodded. "Tempest. I like it."

They shared a look, where Marin felt like it was just the two of them until Mr. Stark broke it up by clapping his hands together. "Okay! So how 'bout it, Spider-Man and Tempest—newest official Avengers? So, after the press conference, Happy will show you to your rooms, your new quarters. Where's Peter between? He's next to Vision?"

"Yeah, Vision's not big on doors," Happy responded with a grimace.

"It's fun."

"Or walls."

"You guys will fit right in." Tony smiled at Marin and Peter.

Marin looked back at her suit, and for some reason, a weight settled in her stomach as she realized what that would mean.

She noticed Peter hesitate, too. "Thank you, Mr. Stark, but I'm good."

Marin's eyes flicked to him. Apparently, Mr. Stark was surprised by his response, too. "You're good? Good? How are you good?"

"Well, I mean, I'm... I'd rather just stay on the ground for a little while. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man." Peter chuckled shyly, shrugging. "Somebody's got to look out for the little guy, right?"

Mr. Stark pulled off his glasses. "You're turning me down? You better think about this." He pointed to the new Spider-Man suit. "Look at that." He pointed at himself. "Look at me. Last chance: yes or no?"

"No." Peter said without missing a beat.

"Okay. It's a kind of Springsteen-y, working-class hero vibe that I dig." Marin could tell that Mr. Stark was trying not to look too disappointed. He then turned to her. "What about you, Marin? You in?"

Marin pursed her lips, rolling them against her teeth. "I'm in." She said eventually, giving Mr. Stark a smile.

Mr. Stark looked genuinely pleased, and even a little excited that she accepted his offer. It made any doubts that he'd truly forgiven her wash away. "Wonderful! Happy, can you take Peter home for me?"

"Yeah," Happy agreed, then said to Peter, "Mind waiting in the car? I need a minute."

Peter nodded, and while Happy went to speak to Mr. Stark in a hushed voice, Marin offered to walk down with him.

"Do you think that was a test?" Peter suddenly asked.

"What?"

"Like, the press. You think there was actually nobody back there, and it was all just a test?"

"Hmm, I guess I'll find out soon, then?"

"So, you're really accepting his offer?" He pulled to a stop in front of her at the front of the staircase. "You're gonna... move here, and become an Avenger?"

Marin sighed. "I just... these powers, Pete. I've only been using them for a couple of days, and I can already feel..." she trailed off, not knowing how to explain the constant buzz of the energy pushing against her skin, begging to be let out. "I need to train them, and in a place where I'm least likely to hurt anyone in case I go rogue."

Peter frowned. "I highly doubt you'd go rogue, Marin. You're like, the strongest person I know."

Marin's stomach fizzed, and she smiled. "That's sweet, Parker, but I'm not going to take any chances." Her smile faltered. "You'll be safe, won't you?"

"Of course," Peter hugged her, his arms solid and his chest tight and warm and soft all at the same time. Marin fit perfectly in his arms like that, her own arms wrapping around his waist and her cheek resting against his pectorals. She could feel his heart pounding against her chin, fluttery and rapid like a hummingbird's. "And you'll keep in touch?"

Marin pulled away, giving him a soft smile. "Always, Peter."

"And we'll see each other soon, won't we?" Peter took a small step back, toward the stairs. "Please take advantage of those cool Quinjets, even if you have to steal one."

Marin laughed. "I don't think stealing jets is going to look good for me, Parker."

"Well, I'll come to you, then."

Marin rolled her eyes. "Focus on school, Peter Parker. And for heaven's sake, make Ned your Guy in The Chair."

Peter mock-saluted, stepping down a step backward. "Yes, ma'am." He nodded, and turned, descending the stairs.

On the floor below, Peter turned and looked up at her. "Be careful, out there, Marin Frost."

Marin smiled down at him. "You too, Spider-Man."

+++

As it turned out, there really was a swarm of reporters waiting for the surprise announcement. But instead of getting two new Avengers, they got a marriage proposal.

Marin loathed to keep Tony away from his fiancée, but Pepper insisted they talk about the logistics.

"Are you sure you don't want to be an Avenger?" Tony eyed her.

"Yes, I'm sure." Marin nodded, looking determined. "I need to focus on controlling my new powers, and I figured that this was the best place to do it."

"And... the suit?"

"For when I'm ready, I suppose."

Tony nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. Marin sat back in her plush armchair. "So, what now?"

Tony Stark looked at her, grinning, and held out his hand to the side. After a moment, a piece of red and gold metal flew straight into his hand, and slowly extended over his arm. "Well, let's see what you got, Tempest."

taglist

@dark-night-sky-99 @pushmeinablackhole @demi-starzak @-thatgirloverthere- @silver-winter-wolf @yourwonderbelle

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starkercrossedlovers · 5 years

Text

Dying, Surviving, Living

{AN: There are three places within the story that mark songs that should be played. They are marked as follows: *, **, ***.}

*This is what dying feels like

He realizes it as he breathes, lungs burning with every inhale and exhale, vision blurring at the edges and mind desperately working to stay awake, alive, for one more breath, one more slow blink, just one more…

He’s left a message for Pepper, the last of his energy fading as he watches the slow creep of space, the icy cold of it pressing against the glass.

There’s no way out of this, he knows.

This is what dying feels like.

“Mr. Stark? Hey, Mr. Stark!”

His eyes flutter open with a sigh. He wasn’t really asleep even though he’s exhausted, he’s too worried about going to sleep and never waking up. It’s probably the kindest way to die, but there’s some primal part of him that screams to fight, to keep breathing, even as it burns.

Through hazy half drooping eyes he squints at the figure crouched next to him.

“Hey! You know Mr. Stark, you should really get something to eat, you don’t look so good.”

A tired smile curls his lips and he sighs, nodding. “Probably right about that kid. Nothing left to eat though.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry Pete, it’ll be okay.”

Peter smiles at him softly, kindly. “Sure it will Mr. Stark. Especially if you attach that coupler to the filtration unit from your suit and use it to recycle the air in here.”

Eyes widening, Tony stares dumbly at him and then collapses back against the hull of the ship, laughing. It’s tinged with hysteria and feels too loud, but it’s a release valve for the grief and anxiety that’s been welling inside him for days.

“Quit talking to the dead Stark, we’ve got work to do.”

A foot connects with his shin and he looks up, glare sliding away into confusion when he sees Nebula standing over him with a disgusted look.

Peter is gone….which makes sense, as he was never really there to begin with.

It hits him again, that the kid is dead and it’s fault and he wants to vomit and scream and curse, or maybe just die because then he wouldn’t have to feel this agony.

Nodding, he takes the hand Nebula offers him, grimacing as he goes lightheaded and his heart squeezes in his chest painfully.

As they walk away, he feels ghostly fingers on his neck and shudders at the whisper he knows only he can hear.

Don’t give up Mr. Stark, I need you

This is what dying feels like.

---------------------------------

By some miracle they cobble together the parts from his suit to the air purification system and within a few hours it’s noticeably easier to breathe. There’s still nothing to be done about the lack of food or water, but he’s been studying the life support systems and he thinks he might have a solution soon.

“What if we filter the waste system and purify it into potable water?”

He hums, “Not a bad idea kid,” he agrees, avoiding the look he knows Nebula is shooting him.

So what if he’s seeing and hearing Peter? He’s going to die and if it means he gets to have him around, well, he’ll take it. Even if it does leave him guilt ridden and sobbing when the kid does disappear.

He’s never gone long, maybe a few hours at the longest, and Tony can’t write it off as oxygen deprivation anymore, this is just him, going straight up crazy.

He tried blocking Peter out for all of an hour, chest aching as the kid asked in a soft, wounded voice what he had done wrong. After that he had decided being crazy was better than being alone.

He and Nebula fiddle with the waste filtration system for hours until finally, it’s producing clean, drinkable water. The first glass they share is warm, tastes a little like greenery, but it’s still better than nothing.

Tony tears up when they drain the glass, his thirst raging to life in the back of his throat. It’s like a desert, aching for relief but for now he ignores it. The system needs to cycle a few more times and he’s exhausted, so he heads to the little nest he’s created, draws a blanket around himself and watches the universe slip past.

He wonders if Pepper’s even alive to get his message, if anyone he knew and loved is left.

“You look tired Mr. Stark, why don’t you rest?”

He sighs and rolls his chin to find Peter reclining against the opposite wall, concern on his kind young face. He smiles at the kid, heart aching with how much he misses him and his pop culture references and wide eyed enthusiasm for just about everything Tony says or does.

“Hey kid. Was going to sleep now, that sewage filtration idea of yours was a good one though, thanks.”

“Sure Mr. Stark! Why don’t you close your eyes, I’ll keep watch.”

Tony would protest that it isn’t possible for him to keep watch, that he’s not real, but he’s so tired he can’t even form an argument so he closes his eyes and sinks down.

A moment later he feels fingers running through his hair and he leans into it, tears rolling from behind his closed eyes.

“I miss you Peter.”

“I’m right here Tony.”

No you’re not

He doesn’t say it, but it’s heavy in the air between them.

This is what dying feels like.

-----------------------------------------------

It’s entirely by luck that they make it back to Earth. They come upon an abandoned ship floating through space and after a quick inspection, Nebula deems it travel worthy. They’re lucky enough that it has a warp drive that they utilize to get back in just a few hours.

They guide the ship to New York, the lightless, lifeless city below sending a shiver over his spine. Steve stares at him in shock, and then they’re lurching towards each other into a rough embrace, tears rolling down both their faces.

They’re a ragtag group, and their newest addition is a woman out of time, convinced that the way to beat Thanos is to go back, change things before they ever happen. He’s too tired to argue the possibility of creating a time anomaly, so he just nods along, eats his food and works on his suit.

He wanders the compound late at night, drinking too much, talking to Peter and wishing it had been him who had died instead. The kid is always close by, murmuring to him ideas for the suit or offering opinions on the fight to come.

If anyone notices the fact that Tony’s drinking too much and talking to a dead kid, they don’t say anything. Steve hesitates the first time he catches it happening and then asks nonchalantly what Peter thinks about trying to make Loki an ally when they go back.

After that there’s no question that despite the oddness of the situation, Peter is there to stay.

This is what surviving feels like; numbness, desolation, grief so deep it’s like a fathomless ocean.

Dying was better.

---------------

They succeed, miraculously, in going back. It’s startling to see himself looking so young, but soon they’re battling the Chitauri and capturing Loki and removing the mind control Thanos had placed him under, and then it’s on to the next step of the plan.

“Duck Mr. Stark!”

Tony dodges a blow from one of Thanos’s minions, barely missing being decapitated before Steve is lunging in and shattering its skull. They share a brief appreciative grin before they slide into combat once more, soaking to the skin in blood.

It stinks, sticks and dries uncomfortably, and when he’s in the shower, he scrubs his skin until it’s raw and red and still, he doesn’t feel clean. He collapses onto the tiles below him sobbing, gasping for air, arms wrapped around his middle, desperately trying to hold himself together.

Ghostly fingers brush against his forehead, and when he looks up it’s into Peter’s kind eyes, soft with concern and affection. “Just breathe Mr. Stark, just breathe,” he whispers, pulling Tony into his arms and holding onto him as he sobs.

“Shh, it’s ok. I’m here. Just breathe.”

This is what surviving feels like.

-----------------------------------

“You need sleep Mr. Stark.”

He nods. Takes another sip of whiskey.

“Sure kid, once I’m done here,” he agrees tonelessly.

Fingers brush through his hair and he can see him, from the corner of his eye, more real than he has any right to be, watching him with concern.

“Please? Come to bed?”

Tony swallows hard, shivers running over his skin as Peter’s hand covers the back of his neck, slim fingers brushing against his skin softly. Heat builds at the touch and he leans into it unconsciously, sighs when Peter’s thumb rubs soothing circles into his jaw.

“C’mon Tony, lets go to bed.”

So he does.

He follows his ghost to his bedroom and orders FRIDAY not to let anyone in and strips before crawling into bed, headache throbbing away behind his eyes.

He smiles when fingers brush his forehead, soothing and gentle. A kiss to his temple has him curling towards Peter, aching for more of the gentle touches. It’s wrong, he knows, to want Peter like this, even if he was real, it would be wrong—age of consent be damned.

He’d always made sure he brushed off the hero worship and the too long stares the kid sent his way—he’s fucked up, but he’s not that fucked up...right?

Peter’s hand tilts Tony’s chin, warm brown eyes smiling at him before he leans down and presses his lips to Tony’s.

“Go to sleep Mr. Stark, I’ll keep you safe.”

He does, with Peter’s fingers raking through his hair and his quiet voice humming softly a tune that Tony knows, but can’t remember.

---------------------

“I’m just saying! Should we really be relying on a guy who’s talking to a dead kid?”

The room goes silent, tension in every body as they all either studiously look away or glance over at him.

He can’t even blame Rocket, as weird as it is to say, because yea, he’s not the most stable, but he’s holding it together. And that’s all he has to do, keep holding on until they get everyone back.

Once he gets Peter back—and Pepper—he reminds himself forcefully, it’ll all be ok again. He just has to fix what’s broke—himself included.

Steve shakes his head at the raccoon, “Tony knows what he’s doing. I trust him with my life.”

Tony looks at the other man in surprise, but nods his thanks. They’ve come a long way since he returned to Earth, but they have further to go. Eventually he gets up and leaves the conversation behind—he doesn’t actually care if they think he’s sane or not, so long as they fix this, it doesn’t matter.

“It does matter Tony...you have to hold on. Don’t let go of who you are,” Peter pleads softly as he messes with the nanites in his lab, hands shaking at the sound of Peter’s voice. It’s been a few days and he had started to worry Peter was gone.

“I’m never gone Tony. I’ll always be here for you.”

Tears blur his vision and he sobs, curling in on himself as Peter’s arms wind around his shoulders and pull him into his chest.

His lungs feel like they’re shredding, copper heavy on his tongue as he bleeds out inside, heart cracking inside its cage between his ribs. He wishes he could rip it out and leave it on the floor, useless broken thing that it is.

This is what surviving feels like.

---------------------

It takes all of them to fight Thanos, the battle bloody and ruthless, but eventually they kill the mad Titan and take the gauntlet to be destroyed in the same place it was made. The stones are destroyed, despite Strange’s wariness to lose them—convinced they could be used for good—an idea Tony would have agreed with once upon a time.

Before Thanos.

Before Peter dissolved into ashes before his eyes.

Before he had to hear him plead with Tony—please Mr. Stark, I don’t wanna go!

Across the universe order is restored, loved ones lost return. He watches as Steve and Bucky embrace, Quill and Gamora reunite, T’Challa and Okoye...person after person...stomach plummeting when neither Pepper nor Peter appear before them.

He’s failed.

His heart turns to ice in his chest, numbness spreading through him and he leans a little heavier into Nat, her eyes wary on him, too knowing for his liking, but he can’t...he can’t do this anymore.

----------------------

** Steve decides to stay in the 40’s with Peggy—no longer a man out of time. When he offers his shield to Bucky there’s a collective moment of shock before the man nods and takes the iconic piece of vibranium, the mantle of Captain America passed on.

They return to their timeline, broken, battered and bruised and as the team celebrates he slinks away from the rest of the group, everything too loud and bright.

Surviving sucks.

The door to his quarters shuts with a soft metallic sound, the lock engaging a moment later and an order to FRIDAY will ensure his solitude. He plans on getting blindingly drunk and sleeping for a week, celebration be damned.

He chuckles bitterly; what do they have to celebrate?

Steve is gone.

Thor is gone.

Peter is gone.

The strongest, bravest, best members of the Avengers, lost, forever.

A sob hitches in his chest as his eyes burn, tears welling up. Is this surviving? He hates it. Doesn’t want it.

“Mr. Stark?”

Head whipping up, he blinks through his tears and finds the familiar figure of Peter Parker, sitting on the edge of his bed.

Smiles tremulously.

“Hey kid, glad to see you’re still with me.”

Peter’s brow furrows, “I...I mean, yea, of course Mr. Stark, always.”

Tony manages a weak smile and pours himself a drink, sips the burning liquid and shudders as it spreads through him.

“Are you—should you drink like that?”

Tony snorts and turns back to the kid, “I’d say I earned it, don’t you think? Saving the universe and all?”

“Yea, but, why are you still not happy?”

Tony half sobs and stares at him incredulously. “Happy? Kid, how could I be happy? You’re gone! Dead! And the only reason I’m seeing you is because I’ve finally gone flat out fuckin shit house crazy!” he shouts, “Do you get it? I’m broken! I-I’ll never be Iron Man again. I’m done!”

Peter stares at him, aghast, confusion and hurt staining his face. “Mr. Stark…”

“No! No...I can’t Peter. I need...fuck, I need you...but if you stay…” Tony shakes his head ruefully and laughs bitterly, wipes at the tears on his face, “I’ll jump out that fuckin window someday. I can’t live not having you. I can’t remember that I failed you every time I look at you.”

He’s pleading now, frozen heart shattering in his chest as he begs his ghost to stop haunting him.

“Please Peter, please go. Please.”

There are tears on Peter’s face now too and Tony sobs, swallows down a gulp of whiskey and curses, fills the glass again with fumbling hands.

“I’m not dead.”

Tony stills for a moment and then shakes his head. “You are. This is just my fucked up mind trying to give me what I want.” He exhales shakily, “But I can’t have you kid. You’re not real.”

“Please Mr. Stark, I promise I’m real!” Peter begs, half sobbing now too.

Tony whirls and glares at him, “Stop! S-Stop torturing me!” he snarls, “I can’t love you and not have you,” he hisses, “Don’t you get it?!”

Peter stares at him wide eyed as Tony breathes unevenly, tears in his eyes once more. The kid shoots to his feet and stalks over, grabs the glass of whiskey and chucks it at the wall, both men startling at the crash.

“I am not dead,” Peter tells him lowly, firmly. Reaches out and grabs Tony’s wrist, holds on as he tries to fight. “Feel that? I’m real dammit!”

Tony shakes his head furiously, yanking on his wrist even as part of him remembers that when Peter touched him it had been like a gentle breeze on his skin—fleeting and barely there.

This is...real.

Alive

Warm

Tony stills as Peter’s hands tighten around his wrists, dark eyes gazing up at him steadily, determined.

“I’m real,” he whispers, “I promise.”

A half choked sob punches out of Tony and he tugs a hand free, shaking as he reaches out to touch Peter’s face. The boy smiles and leans into it, warm and solid and real against his palm.

“Peter?” Tony whispers hoarsely, painful hope burning inside him, and he knows, it’s either real, or he’s so far gone it doesn’t matter anymore. If he’s so crazy that he’s able to touch his hallucinations, he’s going to lock himself away in a remote location and live out his days in pleasant insanity.

“Have you ever been able to touch me before? When I was gone?” Peter reasons, likely seeing the hope and disbelief warring on Tony’s face. Some part of him appreciates the reminder to use that analytical brain of his and he shakes his head slowly, recalling every time Peter had ever touched him.

He can smell Peter now too—cologne musky and warm, the soft scent of honey and lavender from his shampoo, all things he hadn’t been able to sense before.

“I could be having a break from reality,” Tony reasons, voice hoarse and low.

Peter nods and tugs him toward the door. “Let’s see if anyone else can see me,” he suggests, “Rhodey wouldn’t lie.”

Tony nods slowly and lets the kid tow him out of the room and back towards the celebration. The remaining teammates look up, shock silencing the room and hope burns brighter in Tony.

“Can you see me Rhodey?” Peter asks, smiling at Tony’s oldest friend.

The older man nods disjointedly, a smile beginning to creep onto his face. “Y-yeah kid, I see you.”

Tony’s fingers tighten on Peter’s wrist, “Rhodes, you sure?” he demands, voice breaking on the last word. If this is just a delusion...he can’t. He won’t survive it.

Rhodey nods again and reaches out to poke Peter in the chest, bright laughter boiling out a moment later. “Yea Tones, I’m sure.”

The dam inside Tony shatters and he curls inward with a sob, swaying dangerously till Peter grabs onto him, pulls him into his arms and holds him as he weeps.

A storm of grief and euphoria devastates Tony, the reality of the young man holding him up too much for his broken heart and broken mind to handle. Peter carefully guides him back to his rooms, hushing him gently as he applies a little strength and makes Tony sit on his bed.

He strips Tony of his shoes and socks, pulls his jeans off and slides his button down shirt off till he’s in his briefs and a tank, shivering as he sobs. Peter hastily sheds his own clothing and slides into bed beside Tony, murmuring softly for FRIDAY to darken the room.

When Tony panics at the sudden darkness, sobbing and clutching at Peter, he urges FRIDAY to turn on a nightlight, low and golden around the edge of the ceiling. When Tony can see him again he settles some, arms banding tightly around his waist as he buries his face into Peter’s shoulder.

His heart breaks for his friend, mentor, love of his life really. He hadn’t known how deeply his death had affected Tony, and now he wishes he had a way to take it all away—the pain, the grief, the loneliness.

As Tony quiets slowly, he runs his fingers through his hair, murmuring soft words of affection and assurance. When Tony finally falls asleep, Peter watches him, tracing the deep lines in his brow and the dark circles beneath his eyes.

Tony had survived losing him, but at the cost of his sanity and health. He’ll make sure that Tony learns to live again, in time.

------------------------------------------

*** The sun shines down, drying out the red earth below, the scent of rosemary and lemon heavy in the air.

Tony shifts and Peter glances over at him, smiling when the older man sighs softly in his sleep, face relaxed and tanned from weeks in the Tuscan sun. He watches Tony sleep for a few minutes before turning his attention back the screen in his hands.

He’s been reviewing after action reports for the teams since he and Tony left for Italy three months ago. The UN hadn’t been pleased to receive notice of Iron Man’s retirement, nor the notice that Spider-Man would be taking a vacation for an indefinite amount of time unless an imminent global threat arose.

The rest of the team and the Guardians had things well in hand, and he wasn’t about to leave Tony.

Not now.

He and Tony had arrived in Italy just two weeks after the return of the Avengers and the restoration of the universe. Ross had tried to accuse them of being lazy, self indulgent or cowards, that was until every member of the Avengers and Guardians had threatened to refuse the call if Ross and the UN didn’t support Tony and Peter.

Faced with losing earth’s best defenders yet again, the capitulation from those in power had been swift.

A distant rumble of thunder draws Peter’s gaze to the horizon. It’s been weeks without rain, the earth so dry he can hear it cracking under his feet when he walks out into the orchard each morning, the creak of the branches in the wind dry and lifeless.

He hopes the rain lasts like they say it will, a slow steady soaking that will bring life to the earth once more.

He leaves Tony to sleep while he pads barefoot into the kitchen, his hands moving almost mindlessly as soft music plays from the record player in the other room. The house belongs to Tony’s family—the whole town really—and it’s littered with photos of his mother as a teenager, smiling brightly, laughing and dancing, and he knows it makes Tony’s heart ache to see them, but it’s a good ache, he thinks.

The roast chicken recipe is one of Tony’s Nonna’s, the picture of her and her husband watching over the kitchen—her dark eyes and wry smile reminiscent of her grandson. He sees Tony everywhere in this place—in the faces of his family and the updates he’s made to the electrical grid, to the flawless Italian that he speaks when they venture into town.

Thunder rumbles louder and when he glances out the window the clouds are much closer now. He can feel the air pressure changing, the temperature falling and a shiver runs over his skin, senses tingling. There’s anticipation in the air—of the storm to come, of all the things the future holds, and it makes him yearn for something unsaid.

Drying his hands on his shorts, he heads out to rouse Tony, a light hand on his brow and brush of his lips against Tony’s.

“Wake up Tony,” he whispers against his lips, “storm is coming.”

Tony’s beautiful eyes flutter open and a slow smile curls his lips.

“Mio caro,” he whispers, voice husky from sleep, face soft and open.

Peter smiles and kisses him again, “Hey,” he whispers, taking Tony’s hand as he rises from the patio chair and tugs him inside as the first drops of rain start to fall.

When he glances back droplets of water glisten in Tony’s dark hair and there’s a yearning, hungry look to his gaze that has nothing to do with chicken.

Peter shivers.

This is what living feels like.

-------------------------

Rain patters down on the clay roof, the air chill against the sweat on his skin, lightning flashing to illuminate the dark eyes staring back at him.

Tony breathes deeply beneath him, hands trembling where they rest on his thighs as Peter rides him, slow and steady. This isn’t even about coming, it’s a need for connection, a yearning for that feeling that comes when Tony gasps his name like it’s oxygen for his drowning lungs.

He grabs Tony’s hand and lifts it to press against his sternum, the steady thrum of his heart against Tony’s calloused palm enough to make the other man whisper his name, adoration glowing in his eyes.

He’ll never tire of that—of the way Tony looks at him, of how he holds him, loves him. It’s too hard fought for, this love of theirs, for him to ever let it go.

Fingers curling in thick curls, he leans down and kisses Tony, sharing a gasp as the action has Tony’s cock dragging over his prostate. A choked off wrecked little noise barely makes it past his lips as he kisses Tony again and rolls his hips harder, chases that sensation.

Thunder rumbles loud enough to vibrate through the walls, the tremble of it shuddering over his skin and down his spine as he arches back up, fingers pressing into the scar on Tony’s chest where the arc reactor used to be.

I love you Tony he whispers, love you, love you, love you

Tony’s head falls back as Peter leans in again to press kisses to his throat, raindrops sliding down the window panes and blurring the world outside.

He tastes like sweat and sun and lemon and Peter knows that however many years they have left together, it’ll never be enough.

He’ll always want more.

Tony gasps his name, hands desperate on his skin as Peter rolls his hips, bodies slick and hot against each other, soft cries filling the room alongside the hush of the rain.

Please, Peter, need you, please Tony whispers, voice breaking as tears glisten in his eyes. Peter hushes him gently and leans up for a kiss, soft and gentle, lips parting on moans as they move faster now, that warm familiar ache building where their bodies meet.

Tony cums inside him with a low cry, body arching into Peter’s as he half sobs, clutches at him desperately, face tucked into Peter’s neck so his hot, unsteady breaths wash over his skin.

The sensation of Tony’s release is one Peter will never get used to—it’s like carrying a piece of his lover inside him, warm and comforting and completing. Like he’s whole for the first time in years.

He didn’t know how he could miss something he had never had before he and Tony made love, but it’s that—love—that he’s been yearning for his whole life. It’s different than the love he has for May, it’s deeper, consuming, like a string has been tied under the left side of his ribs, deep inside him, stretching across space and time to where it’s knotted beneath Tony’s, and if they go too far apart, it would snap.

Lightning flashes and Peter holds Tony’s gaze as he cums too, shaking and gasping before he’s capturing those lips in his, desperate and needy as he rides out the last of his release. Thunder pounds against the stucco of the house and inside his chest, heart pounding as it begs to fly free and up into the night.

He collapses against Tony, sighing as he presses his lips to the sweaty crown of his head.

“I love you,” he whispers, barely loud enough to cause a vibration in the air, but he knows Tony hears him because his hands tighten on his skin, possessive and loving.

Il mio amore...mio caro...il mio cuore

Tony whispers it in his ear, voice hoarse, and Peter can smell the salt of his tears, hear the irregular beat of his heart, feel the warmth of his breath...every inch of him trembling with love.

Leaning up slightly he smiles softly at Tony, kisses away his tears and presses his forehead with Tony’s.

My love...my darling...my heart

This is what living feels like.

------------------------

Okay my loves, this is the story I started when I first discovered Starker, and I have to say, it’s my favorite thing I’ve written for this ship. There are three places within the story that mark songs that should be played. They are marked as follows: *, **, ***. I encourage you to listen to the songs--even if you aren’t a classical music nerd like me!! Hopefully you’ll love it, and even if you don’t I hope you gain a little appreciation for my favorite composer!

I hope you all enjoy the story and the music as much as I do!

@sluttystarker @starkerchemistryy @pantastic-peach @thebadthingshappen @ciel-mio @hpspazz @starker-4ever @w1nters-stark @foof-a-loof @confused-trash-kitten @panicdotexe @stqrker @honey-honey-darling @mariketa12 @itsmeryshipper @dramione90 @starker-flame @pretzelpoetry @seriouslystarker @starkerthanreality @ikneelbeforemygod @professional-fangirl75 @virgilismypoorshadowling @godlovesstarker @sapphicfreak @veronicashipsit @the-dark-obsidian-princess @ikneelbeforemygod @laughing-oreo @sensei-sans-sugoi @ruelukas22 @tom-starker @yourlittlemelody

#starker #starker angst #post-IW angst #starcrossedtalks #peter parker x tony stark #peter x tony #angst #loss and grief

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