#methods of torture if I knew it would keep him safe god damn I know he’d scream @ me to let him take it but no sweet baby I won’t ever see

[whumpacabra]

Day 10: Killing in Self Defense

Captivity, forced to kill, muzzled, strangulation, murder, minor character death, referenced starvation and torture, vaguely implied mouth trauma and past noncon

[Follows Handcarved]

They looked tired. The Wolf wasn’t sure he looked much better, but the project volunteer across from him wasn’t a pretty sight. Glassy eyes were perched above old bruises, scabbed over flesh knit back together. Their hair was matted, dried blood streaking down their throat.

He was good. He never needed the muzzle. And god was he grateful his handler never wrapped that contraption over his face.

“Don’t worry, she’s completely disposable.”

“A biter?”

“Worse. Bitch wouldn’t stop mouthing off.”

The Wolf could hear another handler talking with his own on the other side of the glass. A false mirror giving them a clear view of sparse room. He could also see the cameras and speakers in the corner of the room at a glance. A recorded room. Unlike the Red Room. That meant he was safe here. As safe as he was allowed to be.

“Damn shame. You try my patented method?”

“A bit. Lesson never stuck - another wasted project for the files.”

“Pity. And here I was hoping Wolfie would get a new playmate.” The Wolf didn’t flinch, hearing his handle click a button behind the glass well before his voice echoed into the room. “Whoever lives gets to leave. Good luck.”

The volunteer’s eyes flickered to him, suddenly sharp and bright with vicious desperation. The Wolf stood still, hesitating (his handler would punish him later for not making a quick kill). His handler had never told him to hurt another project before, let alone kill one. The Wolf wasn’t supposed to fight back.

“Should we have given them weapons?”

“No, too easy to hurt themselves - let’s see what they come up with.”

The Wolf had been too focused on the words beyond the glass to react in time. The volunteer was weak - starved, bloodied, but they were far from helpless. They drove a knee into his gut, winding him. Even doubled over in pain and trying to find his breath, the Wolf knew they had maneuvered behind him, an arm snaking around his throat.

They were small enough and desperate enough that his clawing at their arm did no good - they had a hold on his windpipe and they weren’t releasing him of their own accord. Little did they know the Wolf’s handler had trained him well; he could keep conscious long enough to find a solution.

And the solution was fairly straightforward. He was large, well fed, and well trained. They were small, starved, and fragile from recent torture. He dropped to the ground, crushing them under his back and taking advantage of the stun to pry himself out of their headlock. The Wolf rolled to his knees, instinct begging him to leave them be as they struggled to remain conscious. One breath. Two breaths.

“What the hell is he waiting for?”

His handler sighed in response:

“He’s a little slow on the uptake.” The mic clicked on from the other room. “Kill her, Wolf.”

It was an order. Lesson number one: do as your handler says. And never hesitate.

The Wolf was on top of them in an instant, body moving half from muscle memory and half from the desperate panic to be seen as obedient. Still dazed, their hands were weak as they pushed against his own, which easily slotted under the metal of the muzzle to wrap around their throat.

And then, they opened their eyes.

The Wolf looked away quickly, knowing how easily he could betray himself if he lost focus. Lesson number one. No hesitation. His handler said kill, so he would kill.

The hands that scrabbled at his arms fell slack well before he felt their throat spasm it’s last and their pulse die under his heavy hands. Even then he held their throat with a bruising grip, knowing full well that if they weren’t completely dead he would be punished for disobedience. But now he hazarded to look down at them.

Those death glazed eyes held no judgement, no fear or hate or pain. Tears, still hot, fell from the unblinking eyes that looked up at him in an unmistakably tender gratitude. They weren’t supposed to survive. But at least they got out the only way anyone could leave this hell.

And he was jealous that they got to escape.

“Well done. Could have been a bit faster, but you’ll do better next time.”

[Before Volunteers]

(Part of my Freelancers: Swansong series)

#whump #captivity #forced to kill #muzzled #strangulation #minor character death #referenced starvation #referenced torture #implied mouth trauma #implied past noncon #freelancers #febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday10

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Live Stream Murderer (Part 1) | Spencer Reid x reader

Requested by @thatsonezesty13 / Summary: You’re kidnapped by the Live Stream Murderer, who is in search of his soulmate. He tortures the women for 36 hours and whoever lasts that long is in his eyes; his soulmate. Will you make it through the 36 hours of torture? 

A/N: Tumblr won’t let me tag you, but I’m sorry for the long wait! I decided to put this into 2 or 3 parts, hope you don’t mind. I hope you enjoy!! xx 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

        You and the team exited the SUV and headed into the hotel. It had been a long and exhausting day for all of you. The day had brought you no closer to finding the unsub. The city sheriff had called the BAU in for help in solving who was behind the live stream murders. So far that hadn’t been another victim since the BAU arrived, but you all figured a victim would be found soon considering he only keeps the women for 36 hours.

 You all had nicknamed the unsub, “The Live Stream Murderer.” So far, the only leads you have been what he’d left behind; the videos of the kills. He would torture the women for 36 hours and so far, all of them had died in the end and been dumped. What the BAU hadn’t found out was why this guy was doing this. There were no clues in the videos in why, even Penelope was at a loss. 

“Shit.” You muttered as you searched your purse. Did you leave your phone back at the station? 

“What’s up?” Spencer had stopped to face you, the rest of the team heading inside. 

“My phone.” You groaned, “it’s not in here. I must have left it at the station..” 

“Maybe you left it in the car?” Spencer suggests. 

“Maybe..” You sigh and glance back at the SUV parked at the corner, “I’ll go check.” 

“I’ll go with you.” He kindly offers, “It’s late.” 

You waved him off, “No it’s fine. It’ll only take a minute. I’ll be up in a second. Just let JJ know.” 

He’s hesitant to leave you, “Okay.. just be careful.” He takes one more glance at the SUV and surrounding areas for any signs of danger. There wasn’t anyone around. He waited at the door to make sure you got to the vehicle safely and then proceeded toward the elevators where the rest of the BAU was waiting. 

“Where’s y/l/n?” Rossi asks. 

“She couldn’t find her phone, so she went back to the SUV to check.” 

Everyone nodded, too tired to even think of what kinds of dangers could be lurking for you around the corner.

 “damn it.” You huff in anger at no sign of the phone. “Where the hell..” You bent over to investigate under the passenger seat and spotted the phone. “There you are.” You mutter grabbing it. 

He watched from the corner. Your back was to him and you were preoccupied with searching the vehicle to even notice as he approached. He’d seen you on the news this morning and his heart yearned for you. All the other women he’d chosen hadn’t been worthy. They weren’t strong enough to withstand life, withstand the torture and pain he provided. But you, you had potential. He just knew as a BAU agent you were strong. Maybe strong enough to be his soulmate.

His wife had died in a car accident. She’d been the love of his life, but she hadn’t been strong enough to endure the pain. He needed someone to be able to endure the pain so that he wouldn’t have to go through that loss again and you were a potential match. 

You’d seen his reflection in the window when you’d shut the door, but it’d been too late; your reflexes were slow and exhausted. He’d grabbed the back of your head and slammed it into the window, leaving a crack the side of your head. You were knocked out instantly.

 ~ 

Spencer’s fingers tapped against his chest as he laid in bed. He wondered if you’d made it back to you and JJ’s room yet. 

“Reid.. go to sleep.” Morgan grumbled from the other bed. He was sharing a room with Morgan, which was the usual, “Your finger tapping and foot shaking is distracting.” 

“You think she made it back to her room?” Spencer voices his concern, glancing at Morgan.

“I’m sure she’s fine and sleeping peacefully. Like you should be doing.” He groans, turning over.

 Spencer sighed before staring up at the ceiling again. He was right. They’d had a long day and sleep was needed right now if they wanted to be sharp and finally catch the Live Stream Murderer. He turned over and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t help the feeling that something was wrong.

~ 

The next morning when everyone was to meet in the lobby for breakfast, JJ was already there, but you weren’t. 

“Where’s y/n?” 

JJ stirred her coffee, “Thought she got up early this morning before I did. She may be in the gym or something.” JJ wasn’t bothered by it. You were usually up before her and she knew you could take care of yourself. 

“I’ll go check.” Spencer heads that way but when he arrives at the gym, it’s empty. Don’t panic, Spencer. I’m sure she’s fine. He says to himself. 

He hated to think the worst but ever since Maeve, he can’t help it. It had been a method of protecting himself to think the worst first, so he’d be prepared if had come to it. You’d been his saving grace and pulled him from a dark place after it happened. He told himself he wouldn’t pass up another opportunity to tell you how he really feels, but he never found the time right. 

“Find her?” Hotch asks, glancing at his watch, “It’s time to go.”

 “Gym was empty.” 

“Maybe she got an early start at the station?” Rossi offers as they head toward the door. 

Spencer pulls his phone out of his bag and dials your number as you all walk toward the SUV. Your cellphone rang nearby.

 “I hear her-” Spencer started to say, but he’d stopped and seen what the team did. 

There were your belongings on the ground beside the SUV and blood between the cracks in the window, but you were nowhere to be found. 

~ 

The team had split up to look around the corners and in between buildings but there was no sign of you at all. “I knew I shouldn’t have left her out here alone.” Spencer points to the SUV, “I made sure she made it to the car safe and then I just left. I left her.” 

“Kid, you can’t blame yourself for this.” Morgan tries to reason, “It’s not going to help us find her.” 

Hotch’s phone rings, “Penelope.” He announces to the team before answering and putting her on speaker, “Hello?” 

“t-the live stream! Y/n. She’s on the live stream. It’s everywhere!” Penelope quickly spits out. The team hadn’t had the chance to tell Penelope the news so imagine the shock it gave Penelope when she opened her computers at work to find her best friend plastered all over the internet. 

Spencer’s already pulling it onto his phone and he almost wants to vomit at the sight. You were tied to a chair and screaming in pain as a man in a black hood pressed a hot poker into your leg. 

“You son of a bitch!” You spit out to him, “I’ll kill you! I swear it!” 

There was a small pile of blood under your chair and he could see the knife in the side of your leg, positioned to make sure there wasn’t any major arteries hit.

 “oh god.” Penelope cried over the phone.

Hotch, the one who usually was strong and never let anything bother him actually pulled his eyes away from the phone and clinched his eyes shut. To see a member of his team in that kind of position, that kind of torture made him want to vomit. “Garcia, pinpoint the live stream.” 

“Y-yes sir.. I’ve been trying all morning but it’s bouncing off everywhere that there isn’t even a small area I can pinpoint it too.”

 According to the timer at the bottom of the screen the live stream had been going on for 8 hours. Which meant there was only 28 hours to find you. He just hoped you were strong enough to last through the torture that long.

 “We have to find her.” Spencer chokes out, looking up at the team, who wear the same face of disgust and fear for their team member. “I can’t lose someone else.” 

Criminal Minds tag list: @thelovelydreamer17​ , @la-vie-en-amour1​ , @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25​ , @astra-inclinant-sed-non-obligant (possibly: @astra-x-inclinant​)  , @bluerose512​ , @lolychu​ , @varsityalthete​ , @tylers-missing-car-radio

*if your name is crossed out, tumblr is being stupid and won’t let me tag you.

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​ , @mggstyles  , @simonsbluee​ , @thewolf-and-thesheep​ , @obxrafejjwhore​ , @abbiesthings​ , @itstaskeen​ , @reniescarlett​

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x female!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #matthew gray gubler imagines #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler x you #matthew gray gubler x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fic

[yan-twst]

Could I get yandere dorm leaders reacting to a reader seeking refuge from them though another yander dorm leader? Thanks so much you're the best!

i’m gonna assign the og couples (as in, who the darling is running from) as i think would be more interesting for the plot! hope you don’t mind

warning: general yandere themes, vague mentions of violence

riddle rosehearts 

riddle has assumed that his crush had dropped out, gone missing; his obsession had been cut before it could truly bloom 

sure, he’d been jealous of azul for nagging the one he loved, but... well, with how quickly they disappeared, riddle didn’t even have time to become deadly jealous

but now... his crush has shown up to the door of his dorm one rainy night, crawling and desperately banging against the door. riddle hadn’t expected this- ever- he’d assumed someone had broken curfew and had gotten locked out: however, when he sees his once beloved, he’s so shocked he doesn’t even ask why they’re there, letting them in

riddle’s anger boils when his crush tells him what happened- azul held them captive, he forced them to act like his lover, the punishments... 

however... if his darling expected for him to set them free, they were wrong

riddle will try to find a way to make azul regret his decisions; however, having his darling in his arms triggers his own obsession

it’s going from a cruel master into another cruel man’s grip. riddle will apply strict rules, curfews and limit the places his darling can even walk to; he says it’s for his darling’s protections

they don’t want to be found by azul, do they...? so they better obey his words

leona kingscholar

leona had never cared for malleus’ lover; he hated them because he hated malleus, plain and simple. however, he wasn’t about to put any energy into actively making their life difficult- one day, they simply stopped being seen around NRC, and leona assumed they’d either broken up with malleus or dropped out

so when one day, they desperately run into savanaclaw and practically cling to leona, he’s quite curious as to what the hell happened

malleus... so the damn fae held them captive, huh? he can believe it; after all, malleus did have some nasty rumours... to think he’d hold a person captive as his lover, and use sleeping curses to keep them captive... damn- the man is a monster, isn’t he?

but don’t confuse his comment for pity. oh, sure, he thinks malleus is gross for doing what he did- however...

... well, if malleus is so obsessed and desperate for his darling, wouldn’t it be the ultimate “fuck you” to take his beloved as his?

he doesn’t see malleus’ escape darling as a poor victim, rather a token to use in order to make malleus miserable

he’ll mark them, cuddle them, treat them like his mate: at first it was just to revel in the fact he was tainting something malleus thought belonged to him, but as time passes, leona grows attached to his new plaything. in fact, too attached- if they thought malleus putting them to sleep was torture, they’ll begin to dread even making leona vaguely angry

azul ashengrotto 

this man’s greed knows no limits. he’s heard rumours of kalim’s beloved: how the rich heir loves to show them off, how he dresses them in expensive clothes and parades them around in his parties, but said lover is never seen outside of these parties, by kalim’s side

of course azul wants them. to him, kalim’s lover seems less like a person and more like a jewel- another show of opulence by the asim heir. and god, does azul want that

so when one day, he leech twins lead a weakened person into the VIP lounge, and this person turns out to be kalim’s beloved jewel... azul is exstastic

they want to escape kalim, they say? the revelation is shocking to him- why would they want that...? oh, so kalim keeps them captive? he’s stolen away their freedom...? interesting, interesting... so they want protection from the asim heir, to not be taken captive again...

yes, of course he can do that! why, just sign a contract, and he’ll promise that kalim won’t ever lay a hand on them again

... because they’ll be kept captive in his room now, guarded by the leech twins

he feels like he’s just won the biggest jewel in the world. at first, he just keepts them because of the power it gives him- he could surely get quite a lot of wealth out of kalim using his darling no? but... he gets too attached

he’s decided on not letting kalim get his darling back: by now, azul is desperately in love with them. they went from the frying pan and into the fire- compared to how kind and considerate kalim was, azul’s erratic treatment will be hell for his darling

kalim al-asim

kalim didn’t even know idia had a partner; the outgoing dorm leader has trouble connecting with the neet leader of ignihyde

however, when a weakened and a bit bruised shows up to scarabia and pleads for him to protect them, he absolutely doesn’t care he doesn’t know who they are- he quickly gives them refugee in the large dorm

he’s horrified to learn what idia did. keeping them captive so they couldn’t run from him...? forcing his darling into staying on a relationship with him...! that’s horribly! no matter how much idia loved them, he couldn’t do that...!

when he sees how terrified idia’s darling is of being found by idia, he’ll do all he can to protect them; he gives them their own room, asks jamil to guard them... and he spends most of his free time with them, so he can reassure them they’ll be fine

his presence is so reassuring, idia’s ex darling won’t even notice how kalim is slowly growing obsessed, or how he’s slowly cutting their freedom once again

it’s for their protection, isn’t it? they understand, right? everything he does is because he cares for them and doesn’t want them to fall back on idia’s hands!

surely, going from being locked in idia’s room to the grand, palace-like rooms where kalim keeps them is like going from a small birdcage to a mansion; but a cage is a cage, and they are trapped with kalim all the same

vil schoenheit 

vil was always of the opinion leona didn’t deserve his lover- the evil queen believed that such a beautiful person wasn’t fit to be dealing with such a lazy man who didn’t take much care of himself. however, he mostly just voiced his opinions to rook- once leona’s darling stopped being seen, vil assumed that his partner had made the right choice and left

oh, how wrong he was

when leona’s darling arrives to his dorm, interrupting his beauty sleep, vil is horrified by their state. they’re weakened, bruised and battered- their eyes look full of fear and panic as they beg for him to let them in, before leona finds them, please-

vil fusses over them. what a brute leona was! he’ll huff and rant about how he always had a bad feeling about leona as he nurses his darling back to health

and hm... as he had thought, leona’s ex darling is truly beautiful- he silently thinks it’s no shock leona did what he did. after all, such a beautiful person would be a terrible loss if they were to leave, wouldn’t they...?

he also quite likes caring for leona’s ex-darling: doing their makeup, getting them clothes, they’re like a doll, aren’t they...? he loathes to think one day they’ll be fine and leave- god, he hates it...

... so he begins to administer love potions with the smoothies he so kindly makes them every morning.

go on, drink it all; they need to regain their strength! oh, isn’t he so kind? yes, yes, he’ll accept their affections with open arms, so go on! he’s drunk on hearing how much his darling loves him

idia shroud 

of course leona knew who vil’s beloved was. the man had his little doll everywhere in his social media- idia has a crush on them, but what the hell can he do? it’s not like he can measure up to vil... 

so when vil’s darling shows up to his dorm’s door, nervously glancing around and be let in, idia doesn’t even hesitate

he’s way too giddy- enough so to make vil’s ex feel a bit unsettled... but, he does offer them refuge, a room to stay in, food, and safety; he at least seems genuinely heartbroken when they tell him their story

to think... someone so idolized like vil would do that... idia is heartbroken; how had he not realized? surely, if he looked at pictures of vil’s darling every day, he should have noticed something... how had he not noticed their glazed-over eyes, telltale signs of a love potion in work?

but... if someone as loved as vil had to keep his darling using those methods, then- how was someone like him even supposed to not have his darling run away when he confessed...?!

his snapping seems almost random; one day he’s promising to keep his darling safe from vil, the next day they have a thick, long chain keeping them trapped in his room

it’s a shame, really. when vil kept them, he used love potions to keep them obedient and loving- and at least the love potion made them think they were happy and in love for a while. but idia just keeps them; already convinced they won’t ever love them- they’re prisoners in his room, to his deranged obsession

malleus draconia 

in some sense, malleus envies heartslabyul students quite a bit. they all seem to be quite close, always hosting tea parties and unbirthday parties... to him, who lives such a lonely existence, he can’t help but look at riddle and envy how his dorm works

he’d seen riddle walk hand in hand with another student some times, but he didn’t even know their name- to him, it was just yet another thing he couldn’t have due to his reputation

he finds it odd when riddle’s darling runs up to diasomnia one night, terrified and beat up. they wish to be rescued, so they come to him...? he’s surprised that they would come to him, of all people- but of course, he promises to protect them

having his darling not leave the diasomnia dorm, and always by his side is just part of protecting them. since riddle’s darling was so used to being subject to riddle’s strict rules and harsh punishment, this treatment by malleus almost feels like freedom

he grows attached quite rapidly; he rarely gets to spend times with others, so to have someone cling to him for safety... it’s addicting, almost. 

soon enough he’ll have sebek and silver make sure his darling doesn’t ever leave, and he’ll have lilia help out as well: by now, his darling has probably realized their mistake. malleus isn’t their saviour- he’s just another obsessive, protective monster.

#yandere #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #leona kingscholar #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia

[allyvampirelass29]

Killing Time

A HEROES Fanfiction By: Allyssa J. Watkins

He loved that he could touch her, even from across the room, that as long as she was in his sight, she was never gone from the reach, the caresses of his mind. Sylar turned his head towards his shoulder, and felt the weight of hers, the silkiness of her wispy curls, as he grazed the air, yet felt the fluttery sensation of her hair. The soundproof glass between them, kept him from saying what he needed to say, kept him from possessing that flooding power in hearing her breath quicken, and knowing he was the cause. But he could watch his effect on her through the one way glass, her head turning towards his phantom projection, and as she clinged to the air around her, he just knew....... As smoothly as he could turn a phrase with his silken tongue, his talented fingers were far more eloquent.

He smiled as he watched her own delicate hand reach up, search the air, and he felt his whole body seized with chills, that irresistible feel of her thumb stroking his dark brow over and over, and the tension in his back slowly released with his exhale. "God, I love when you do that," he spoke to the glass, and felt her melt against his hand as he placed it gently on her shoulder. To anyone watching, it would look like he was touching his own shoulder, but it was definitely hers, he could feel the feminine curve of it, and he imagined the tiny freckles dotting it like stars.

His heart panged, as he watched her lips move, speaking to the air, and he imagined the music of her laugh, as he watched it soundlessly. He'd give anything to know what she was saying to him. "You're a doll, Ally," He whispered painfully to the glass, releasing his hold, to edge himself closer to it. He watched her eyes shift from happy enchantment, to sudden fear, when she couldn't feel him anymore. "Hey, no, don't be scared I'm right here...…" He whispered, tapping on the glass, like he'd done every day since they'd been captured. If he hadn't been dosed up with enough brain paralysis to kill a baby elephant, he'd have shattered that glass by now. But with his powers leashed, and his body considerably slowed, all he could manage was the tapping, the weak reach, the projected touch. He couldn't save her, but as long as he could feel her, there was hope.

"Don't cry, no, Baby. Stop, you're killing me." The tears stung Sylar's eyes, as he watched her hug her knees, and sob quietly, her hair catching the light and veiling her face. He felt the pain of his own tears stoke the fire, the anger inside him, and using all of his strength he pounded the glass with his fist, harder and harder, over and over, his sadness becoming pure rage. Again and again, he watched his knuckles bruise and then heal, melt back into perfect skin. So he hit harder, the glass shuddering beneath his relentless attacks, and still, Ally could not hear him, and didn't so much as look up from her desolate sorrow.

"You're only making it worse, on the both of you." The Senator's voice was the match thrown into the dangerously full gasoline barrel, and Sylar hurled his whole body against the glass with a seething, animalistic yell.

"That glass, just this one piece, cost 20 million dollars, Buddy. You'd better believe it's bulletproof, blast proof, and 100 percent SYLAR proof. If I'd had the funding, you'd be in a box of the stuff right now. Wasting good drugs on you, makes me sick."

Sylar's eyes smouldered, his dark brow slanted, screaming murder, and his mind burned black with threats, too many to pick just one. Torture beyond anything he'd perpetrated before, horrendously bloody acts that would give even himself, nightmares. But his lips could only utter three words after the energy syphoned off from his intense physical exertion, and he felt his body fading, with the single, desperate plea still on his lips.

"Let. Her. Go."

"Can't do that friend."

It was all Sylar could do to steady his breathing, his heart pounding relentless against his chest with wounded rage, that wild, almost primal hunger to kill, and for the first time in months, he actually felt relieved Ally couldn't see him, blinded from the monster he was about to become. His very soul burned with bloodlust, the sleeping danger awakening. The killer emerges.

"SAVE IT!!!!" He snarled, nostrils flaring as he fended off the invading drugs that chained up his powers, his anger yanking on the mental restraints with an unhinged force. His forehead still rested against the glass, as he turned it slowly, methodically, toward the door, his eyes flashing with obsidian fire.

"Save your damn campaign speech, Senator, I am so not your friend. You play the benevolent leader, Mr. All American with such shocking deception. You put on a tie and a fake smile, and you HIDE behind that door and enact the horrors that you speak out against. As much as I love cruel and unusual punishment, you've just lost my vote. You're a monster, Nathan, you're worse than me, because at least when I kill my own kind, I don't pretend to care. I don't pretend that I'm going to save them."

The silence that followed was deadly in of itself, a cold void spreading through the sparse, empty room but when Nathan finally gave the order, it was edged with a severity that even Sylar had never thought capable of him.

"Open the door."

"Sir, we'd strongly advise against engaging the hostile."

"Oh yes, be a good boy, Nathan, and listen to your pathetic excuses for bodyguards. You've never experienced HOSTILE, until I've got you alone, locked in a room with me. You're going to need more than fancy drugs, and a twenty million dollar piece of glass to save you. You can use all the confiscated narcotics you want, if it'll make you feel safe, but I don't need my powers to kill you."

"You really think I'm scared of you?"

"No, Senator, I KNOW you are. But by all means, open the door...…. Let's play."

"Please, you've been so heavily sedated, hell, you should have OD'd twenty times over by now. You couldn't kill time."

"Haha that's good, I like that...… Killing and Time are my two favourite things. Even high, I can still do more damage than you can ever do to me. Whatcha gonna do, Buddy? Send me to death row, can I request the chair, that might be fun.”

"Don't you get it, Sylar? You're on Death Row."

Sylar froze as a red dot appeared on Ally's bare shoulder, as she sat, hugging her knees, and a low growl escaped from deep within his chest, his fingers starting to tremble.

"Alright, easy, white flag!" He fumed, throwing up his hands. "Fine, I'll play nice, just call off your sniper."

"Back against the glass, hands on your head, you son of a bitch."

"You're making me miss Bennet with that kind of sweet talk. Good times......" He snickered, turning his cheek inward playfully, brow raised, his eyes intensifying.

"Shut up! I'll shoot her, I swear to God. It's amazing, really, how many ways you can shoot a person and still keep them alive, just long enough, so that they feel each agonizing moment."

Sylar wasn't laughing anymore. He tentatively backed into the glass, and interlaced his fingers, as he put them behind his head, taking one last glance over his shoulder, and he didn't start breathing again, until the red dot threatening her pale skin, disappeared.

There was a loud mechanical sound, and the door slowly opened, as Nathan strode in, surprisingly unaccompanied, and it took every bit of Sylar's resolve not to tear into him on sight.

The young, square-jawed Senator regarded the tall, dark, and dangerous man before him, as though he were approaching a rabid animal, looking at him sideways, with great disdain.

"What now, Nathan, come to pat me down? You gonna rough me up a little?" He looked over his shoulder at the brown haired girl, her hands searching the glass in front of her with stricken eyes. He almost reached out to put his hand where hers was, when he remembered she couldn't see him. "You even think of doing that to her, I'll kill you. Nobody touches her, got it? Nobody but me."

Nathan's eyes narrowed as he ventured closer. "I'll do whatever the hell I want with her. She's the property of the United States Government now, you both are."

Sylar smirked at him, flexing his bent arms behind his silken head, his dark eyes dancing. "So, I'm like an acquired weapon of mass destruction?"

"More like Enemy of the State, an apprehended terrorist. Congratulations Gabriel, with a little help from the FBI, you no longer exist. There is no Gabriel Gray, meaning I can do whatever I want to you, hold you without trial, kill you without cause."

"So do it." Sylar snarled, his eyes snapping back to cold and impenetrable. "Kill me, Nathan. End it. Be the hero, everyone thinks you are. What are you waiting for?"

Nathan laughed without feeling, the hatred between him and Sylar rising like a scorched heat. "You think I won't do it? I was an officer of the United States Navy, I know HUNDREDS of ways to kill a man, and I'm pretty sure, you only know, the one." Nathan swiped his finger mockingly in front of Sylar's face, and Sylar smirked back, his gaze deadly.

"Just because I have my favourite weapon, doesn't mean it's the only trick up my sleeve. If you were going to kill me, you would have done it already. No, I'm going to kill you, Nathan, for doing this to me, to HER. I'm going to kill little brother, and Ma, and only after you're out of your head, seeing their bloody mangled bodies, their heads viciously ripped into, I'm going to make you beg me to kill you, and only then, will your little Superman charade end."

"You dressed up in my brother's face and tried to kill me, you SICK bastard!!! Who does that!? Did you really think I wouldn't retaliate?  You tried, and you failed. You used someone I loved against me, and you still lost. Don't be surprised when I do the same, go dark, and I follow through for the win."

"Look, I get that you're pissed, I know, I ruined your little ball and tricked all your big, fancy Senator friends. You want blood? Take it. Take it all...…. Torture me, kill me, bring me back, just to kill me again, maybe I deserve it, maybe I don't, do whatever the HELL you want, even let Peter get his, but don't punish her for my sins. My blood for hers. You already have me, you don't need her anymore, so, please...… let her go. You do that, and I might just let you live."

"Look at me, Gabriel, look right into my eyes. Never gonna happen."

Sylar could feel his skin prickling with the chills coursing through his body, the coldness of a killer, creeping into his dark features, his voice like ice.

"I said...… Please."

"No deal. You see..... I'm not going to do any of that to you, Gabriel. Because I know that whatever punishment I inflict, government sanctioned or otherwise, nothing is going to hurt you worse, nothing is going to make you behave more than the constant threat of what could happen to her. Why do you think I designed the glass so that you could see her, but she can't see you? Because I want you to see it, what I do to her, every time you get out of line. You so much as look at me a way I don't like, I'll take action, and it won't be me, hurting her, it will be you, your hand. I don't want your worthless blood, hers is so much more valuable. I'm going to take as much as I need to replicate that power, increase it enough to protect entire armies. This is a whole new level for our military, and on behalf of the United States Government, I thank you for your generous contribution."

Sylar's rising anger chilled into paralyzing fear, and he shook his head incredulous. "You're insane. She doesn't have enough electricity for that kind of scale, or enough blood for such rigorous testing...…You'll kill her."

Nathan smiled, his teeth gleaming, looking every bit the congenial politician. "If that's what it takes. I guess, we'd better get started." Nathan made a motion with his hands, and Sylar dropped his arms, failing to hide the abject horror flooding his eyes, feeling sick.

"What did you just do? She's- She's an innocent girl!!!!!"

"Wrong. She WAS an innocent girl. You stole her innocence. YOU ruined her, and got her all mixed up in the MURDER plot of a US Senator!!! She'll PAY for your sins, because they're her sins too, she deserves what's coming."

Sylar shook his head, his brow pulled back, as he sank desperate to his knees. "Nathan, listen to me, she didn't know, I swear!"

"Ever hear of guilty by association?"

Sylar whirled his head around, just as two fully equipped S.W.A.T. members stormed into Ally's side of the room, one of them roughly tackling her to the ground, the other taking a long needle from a cylindrical container.

"NOOOOOOO!!! Nathan, GOD, Nathan, don't do this, I'll do ANYTHING you want, I'll kill whoever you want me to kill, I'll be a damn saint, just don't- Don't hurt my girl." Sylar's tears streamed freely now, his chest so tight, he couldn't get air to his lungs and they burned, as he watched with blurred vision, Ally screaming without a sound, fighting back and sobbing. He bristled as the one holding her down backhanded her across the face, and felt his own jaw sting with the assault.

"Not My Baby...…. Don't hit her, don't hit my baby!!!!" Sylar's voice was hysterical, failing to suppress his sobs, his emotions heightened because of the drugs. Nathan had never seen him like this, and he liked it. He liked it a lot.

"You want it to stop? Fall at my feet. Beg like the pathetic creature you are."

Sylar started to scowl, his lip quivering with both rage and pain, an emotion swathing him that was more dangerous than anything he'd ever felt before, Self Sacrifice. 

"Never."

"Hey Tom, I'm going to need you to bleed her." Nathan spoke calmly into his earpiece."

"Like HELL you are!!!!!" Sylar's rage burned through the pain, engulfing him and Nathan in the catching flame like wildfire, as he hurled himself at him with murderous intent. But the drugs had dulled his reflexes, and Nathan slammed him hard into the glass, grasping his jet black hair, and holding his forehead against the glass, as Sylar struggled against him, growling.

Ally was still fighting hard against her attackers too, but they overpowered her, one of them returning the needle to the container, retrieving, instead, a scalpel and silicone cup. Sylar released the full force of his scream into the glass, feeling the vibration against his lips, the sound reverberating through the room, echoing through the entire space, as the blade sank into Ally's pale skin, dark red blood trickling down her forearm, into the waiting cup.

His body couldn't take it anymore, between the drugs and the horror he broke...…. Sylar sobbed bitterly, and Nathan loosened his hold on the back of his head, letting him fall, helpless, to the ground, legs crossed, looking like a frightened little boy, instead of a cold blooded killer.

"You really do love her."

"Please," Sylar breathed the single word, his voice frail, his eyes sincere.

"Fall at my feet, and I make it stop."

Sylar gritted his teeth, his cheeks shiny, wet with tears, the image of Ally's silent scream haunting him, begging him. He couldn't take it. He'd been compromised, and it terrified him what he'd do if it meant keeping her alive. Sylar got all the way down on the floor, revolted by the utter degradation, hating Nathan, and even more, hating himself.

"Hey Guys, that's enough for tonight. Get the girl bandaged up, and get the sample to the lab."

Nathan looked down at Sylar like he was a loathsome thing, an insect on the floor, and Sylar held his breath, as Nathan stepped directly onto his fingers, digging his heel in. 

"Look at you, The Big Bad Wolf...…. Now, you're just a whimpering pup. I own you."

Sylar had to bite his tongue to keep his scathing response from escaping his lips, and he seized up, his back arching, as he felt the pin prick in the back of his neck, a new rush of drugs flooding his system, his eyes going blank.

"Sweet Dreams, you Psychopath."

Sylar passed out on the floor, unable to fight off the heaviness of the newly introduced drugs mingling with the lingering effects of the ones previously administered, his mind paralyzed, and his body exhausted. Nathan strode out of the room, and the mechanical sound echoed through the space, as the door locked itself behind him. The lights died, darkness washing over Sylar's still form, his arm outstretched.

Silence.

Then.... the intercom crackled, as someone turned it back on, a bit of feedback, and a voice filled the room.

"Sylar!? Sy? Baby, can you hear me?"

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

#sylar #sylar x oc #heroes #gabriel gray #nathan petrelli #killing time

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter XIV

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA+18

Overall Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Chapter Warning: Nervous breakdown. Mention of captive.

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys…

A/N: So my little Hvitserk is losing it.  He’s all over the place.  Please bear with him, trust me there is a method to his madness.  All will become clearer in the next 2 chapters.  This chapter might be hard to read because he’s bouncing all over the place.

Chapter XIV

The words catch in my throat as soon as I try to force them out.  Shit, not another night where my dreams rob me of the ability to scream, breathe, and move.

At least my eyelids will open. They about the only thing on my body that seems to work, I’m not sure if I’m holding my breath or if my lungs have just given out, but until I can breathe I have to lay here staring at the ceiling.    

Normally, this paralysis only lasts a few seconds, but it still feels like an eternity. As long as I keep calm and try to take shallow breaths, I can get through this. Everything will come back to me slowly. Like now – there’s a slight twinge in my big toe. It’s not enough to move my entire foot, yet, but it’s some improvement. 

I bet if I concentrate on something smaller like getting my eyes to move I’d have better luck. I’m thinking if I can get those to work, then my lungs will follow suit.

That’s it.  Just focus. Good. It’s all slowly coming back. Now, if I could just take a deep breath it should slow down my heart. Relax.

How can you have night terrors when you’re not afraid of your dreams? It’s not like they’re nightmares – well, not in the traditional sense of the word. They’re more like really weird vivid dreams filled with shit I don’t want to see or hear.  

Most nights I can’t remember the entire dream, but tonight it just keeps replaying in my head. There are still a few bits and pieces that are foggy, but all of the important parts are there. Like, I can’t really make out where I am, but I know I’m walking down a hallway. And they’re there; all of them.  

I remember their faces so clearly and the ones whose names I couldn't remember were wearing name tags. A few were chained, some just pinned down…They all look like they did the last time I saw them. And it felt so real like I could feel their presence and their cold, dead fingers touching me. I could still see the longing and desire in their eyes. It was haunting and kind of beautiful.

That’s why I wouldn’t consider it a nightmare, exactly. It was honestly a little bit comforting being surrounded by all of my friends. But, it was still a scary dream, only they aren’t what scared me. What scared me was them telling me that I'm not done; that I never will be. 

They kept begging me to take them and I got scared because I wanted to. Even now I still want to. If I could close my eyes right now, and force myself to pick up the dream where it left off, somehow control it so I could make it go how I wanted to go, I’d take each and every one of them. Knowing that is enough to scare the shit out of me. That qualifies it as a nightmare, right?  

I swear this is fucking torture – night terrors, sleep paralysis, cold sweats, shaking like a drug addict. What the fuck is wrong with me?  Ivar would know what to do. If only he were speaking to me. 

I don’t know what’s going on with him right now. I don’t think he’s mad at me. It’s more like he’s super disappointed. Instead of hugs and kisses, he gives me these sad smiles and disapproving head shakes. Sometimes he chuckles to himself when he walks past me… like there's some damn inside joke that I don't know about.

Maybe he’s trying to teach me a lesson. I don’t know what the fuck it is, but I’m learning it. I need to get away and clear my head. Being in this house, this room is suffocating me. I need to see something else besides my bedroom’s black walls and dark furniture. I used to love that it looked like a dungeon in here, now it just reminds me that I want to do something bad in the dark. Like I’m bad and dark.  Why do I always have to hide?  Even in here, I have to lock the door, make sure the light canceling curtains are drawn…I always have to do all this shit to keep my secrets. Who the fuck am I keeping them from?  Myself?

Ivar doesn’t know what it’s like to afraid of every fucking thing, including yourself. He doesn’t know what’s like to have secrets or having to lock yourself away from the rest of the world to keep them safe. He just doesn’t care. He does what he wants, when he wants to, and doesn’t feel anything about it later. 

God, I wish I knew what that kind of freedom felt like. I wish I could be more like him.

Ivar’s boots are at the front door. I didn’t even know that he left let alone came back. Where does go when I'm not with him? Did he make new friends already? Did he find new people to party with? Does he like them better than me? Are they more fun? There used to be a time where we were inseparable. Now it's like living with a stranger - one that gives me disheartened looks all the damn time.

It hasn’t quite been two weeks since Aud cured me and already I'm second-guessing everything. Rationally, I know Ivar's not going to find a new group of friends. Even if he did, he's not going to replace me; I’m his brother. At least, I hope he doesn’t replace me. But still, we have other brothers. Oh God, what if he replaces me with one of them? What would I do? How could I survive? They don’t love him the way that I do.

Stop it, Hvitserk! You’re being paranoid.

He’s not going to stop loving me. He can’t. He promised me. Right now, he's just upset about my decision to marry Thora. It'll blow over and he won’t abandon me. He'll make room for Thora and our family in his heart because he loves me.

Why do I keep forgetting that?  Ivar loves me. If nothing else is true in this world, that is. I don’t even know why I think that’s he’s acting differently. He told me how he felt, and I got sensitive. But, Ivar’s not spiteful. That’s me, projecting my feelings onto him. I’m so fucking stupid! 

All week, I’ve been blaming him, but it wasn’t him at all. I’m the fucked up one that can’t control his emotions. I’ve been the one creating distance between us. Subconsciously, I must have been pulling away in order to prove to him that this is what I want.  I’m so fucking childish.  

All this time, I’ve been acting like a little bitch around him because I think I’m afraid that he’s going to talk me out of it. But he can’t right?  He can’t change my mind because I’m cured.  It was a fun run, but I’m getting married and my life with Thora will be forever.

Still, I don’t understand why every time I say the words I’m done, I get these cramps in my stomach and my eyes won't focus. I feel like I'm dying. Either that or I'm losing my mind. Maybe this is just the grief process. I never really said goodbye to that other Hvitserk. Maybe in my haste to start over, I never grieved for the person I was. How do you grieve for yourself? 

Maybe I should just call Thora. Lately, she's been the only thing keeping me remotely sane. I swear, I didn’t need to concentrate on her instead of what I’m feeling, I’d be worried about us both.  Am I going to have to be around her for the rest of my life just so I don’t have to feel this way? 

Without thinking I fish my phone out of my pocket and start dialing Thora’s number. Who cares if it's three in the morning, I need help and someone is going to give it to me. If I have to spend the rest of my life taking care of her, it’s the least she can do for me. Ivar thinks she’s worthless – she’s got to prove him wrong. 

Please God, prove him wrong.

"Hello?" She clicks the answer button on the FaceTime call, but she doesn’t open her eyes. Just seeing her sleepy face is pissing me off. I know she’s got class in a few hours, but that doesn’t trump the crisis I'm in right now. Fuck her class and sleep and shit. I'm about to lose my goddamn mind and she has the nerve to be taking a fucking nap?

Why is she snuggled in that pink blanket with that fucking revolving stars and moon lamp spinning around the room? God, I hate that she’s fucking childish sometimes, "Hey."

"Hvitserk? What time is it?" Normally, I'd feel sorry for waking her but fuck that. The only person I feel sorry for right now is me. And what's with that question? What time is it? Not what's wrong or are you alright? Like what I'm going through right now is secondary to the fucking time. Who in the fuck does she think she is?

This was a mistake. I shouldn't have called her. She's not responsible enough to take care of me. And after listening to her, I don't think she could handle it. She just proved with that one question that she'll never know all of me. She doesn’t fucking deserve to. "It's late. Go back to sleep."

She finally cracks her eyes open to look at me. "Is everything okay?" I guess I’m finally worthy of a fucking glance.

No, nothing is okay. And it’s about fucking time you thought to ask. What clued you in? The fact that I'm calling in the three in the morning, or is the frantic sound of my voice a dead giveaway? Could be it the fact that I'm fucking salivating like a rabid dog or maybe it’s the ice water running through my veins making my teeth chatter? 

Hmm, let's see...could it be me sweating like I'm in the fucking Sahara desert? Stupid bitch. Do I look like I'm fucking okay to you? "Yeah. Everything is fine. Good night." Hitting the end button on the phone but keeping it to my hand, all I can hear is the sound of my own ragged breathing.

My eyes lift to see Ivar's smiling face and raised brows as he walks past me. Where the fuck did he come from? He looks like he’s up to something. “You look like shit, Hvitserk. You should get more sleep.” 

That’s it? That’s all he has to say to me? He knows I’m fucking dying inside but that’s what he says? And he called me Hvitserk. He almost never calls me that.

He didn’t even ask me what’s wrong. He hasn’t made one move to come over here to hold me and try to make it better. He is punishing me. Why can't he just yell at me like a normal person? At least that way after a fight, we could make up and he could help me through this. Fucking proving a point shit...

I know him and he won’t come to me. He’ll let me break until then when I really can’t take anymore he’ll make me come to him. Well, you know what? Fuck that. I'm not giving in. 

He only stands in the kitchen long enough to shrug his shoulder before he turns to walk up upstairs. Why is he doing this to me? Is this what our company feels like when we’re partying with them? Is this what it’s like to be on the receiving end of his torture? Okay, well I get it now. Lesson fucking learned. I can’t live without you, Ivar. Is that the fuck what you want to hear?

All I want to do is get married, not sever our relationship. Why can’t you understand that I can't spend my whole life taking care of Thora without somebody taking care of me? That's your fucking job. My job is to be the needy, screw up, and your job is to make it all better. So do your fucking job and stop fucking around. I’m fucking begging, you bastard - only I can’t make my lips say the words. No matter how bad I want to, they just won’t.

Ubbe was right – he always said I was weak. I’d rather sit here and suffer in silence, then admit to him that I can’t do this without him. If that’s not weak, then I don’t know what is and I should know because I've seen people at their weakest point and they don’t look like I do, right now. In midst of not knowing if they’re going to live or die, with sheer terror in their eyes, they still have their self-respect. Well, I don’t.  

I mean, sure they begged and screamed, but they didn't completely lose it. They were stronger than me. Every one of those weak motherfuckers was stronger than I am. I'm slowing dying and could give a fuck less about my dignity. I just want someone to hear my screaming without having to reduce myself to actually doing it.

I hate myself and everything in my life. I hate Ivar and the way he's acting. I hate Thora and her perfect innocence. I hate this fucking house, for trapping me in it. This fucking kitchen and this neat ass house. And…

When the hell did he replace the wooden cabinet doors with glass ones? Do we really need to see our dishes? I'm having a fucking nervous breakdown and he's being Jonathan fucking Scott. But that's typical Ivar. 

I do one thing he doesn’t like he’s making me pay by taking everything comfortable away. Nothing in here is goddamn place is mine anymore. Everything from the neutral colors, to the Tonka & Oud scented candles is Ivar. I've been here for five years and in ten days he's managed to get rid of me. There's no trace of me anywhere. I've fucking vanished from the one person who actually saw me. 

“If you don’t want me here, fine.  I’ll fucking leave,” I say to the empty room.

Maybe I should just go to the cabin and talk to Aud. She’ll understand. She always listens to me. She still thinks I'm strong and powerful. Plus, she'll make me feel better with all that fear still etched on her pretty face, even if she won’t cry for me anymore. It’s not really even about that though. I just need a little more of her healing. If she can cure me again, I know it'll stick this time. 

I’m just not sure that’ll do it again. I think she’s afraid or disappointed or something because she’s becoming distant, too. She doesn't put her arms around me anymore. There's no more warmth in her touch. I can't even smell her innocence. She's hiding from me because she knows that's what I need from her. Now, she just sits in that closet and looks at me with those huge eyes, but there's no emotion behind them.

Why is everyone is turning on me. Well, you know what? Fuck them. I don't need any of them. I'll do this on my own.

Turning off the kitchen light, I notice that Ivar left the one in the basement. I hate the basement. It's so cold and damp. I know it sounds stupid from a guy that hangs out in abandoned buildings, but the basement creeps me out.

Bad things happen in our basements. They always have.

I won't even go down there to do laundry, Ivar always does it. The only time I ever step foot down there is to get the Christmas decorations and Ivar is always with me. He usually laughs, then kisses my head before taking my hand and leading me downstairs. He always walks in front of me to make sure that everything is safe. Then he sits at the foot of the steps and watches me while I rummage through the boxes. He never leaves that step until I'm ready to come up.

My lips twitch in a smile at the memory but that's suddenly replaced by licking them to ebb the fear. Why can't Ivar protect me right now? I'm sick, scared, and alone, but there's a clinking sound coming from down there that I can’t quite place.  

I swallow hard before I take the first step down as my sweaty palm glides along the wooden banister. My feet touch each step softly like I'm going to creep up on my fear or something. But as scared as I am I’m more interested in hearing that sound again.

You know those clouds of aroma that drag the cartoon characters around by their nostrils? I’m not even halfway down the steps yet, but I can hear something else that feels like I’m being lead the rest of the way down like that by that sound. I have to admit, it’s making me a little excited…my thighs clench involuntarily…there’s a tingle in my nuts…

As more of the room comes into view the anxiety mounts. The symphonic melody is getting louder and more sporadic. I don't know what it is, but it’s fucking beautiful. It’s like scurrying…almost like something is trying to get away from me. The more it needs to retreat, the more I need to find it. "Hello?" 

Stepping onto the last step, I stare at the sight in front of me and feel my heart race. A cage, like the ones that you train dogs in. Only, we don’t have a dog. But that's not what has my feet glued to the spot. The thing that has my muscles refusing to move is the woman inside of the cage. 

God, she's a sight for sore eyes.

She's huddled in the corner dirty, tatter, gagged, and hands tied. She's terrified. I can smell it from here and it's the most beautiful smell in the world. The adrenaline is pumping through my body to the point that I have to grip onto the banister not to advance.

What do I do? She wants me. She's beckoning me with those tears, and teasing me with the way she's squatting trying to crawl away from me. She wants me to play the game. She wants the chase and to have me take her. She's practically begging me. The thought of what she wants me to do makes me smile. Suddenly I don't feel sick or crazy anymore. 

I have to make a choice. Should there even be a choice? Maybe I could give in just this once and it'll be easier afterward. But I've come so far. It's been almost two weeks, so there’s no guarantee that this going to make me feel any better. But after all this time I should be rid of the urge, right? I shouldn’t still think about it every waking moment of the day? 

Seeing a woman in a cage in my basement shouldn't make me feel sane, but God knows it does.

This is supposed to be wrong. At least, I should feel like it's wrong. "I don't need this. So stop fucking asking me." I hear my voice and look around to make sure that she understands that what she’s asking me to do isn’t right. 

I hear Ivar coming down the stairs from the second floor to the first. Out of instinct, I turn around and head back up myself. I don't want to leave her with her fear all alone. Someone should be there to watch it. But I know I can't stay here without giving in. I can't take the temptation or the way she's looking at me. She wants me so bad, but I can't. At least I shouldn't want to.

I don't make it very far, only back to the kitchen. I close the door behind me and slide down it until I'm sitting with my knees against my chest. I don't know what to do. 

What's more important, my wants, or my needs? Not that it matters because right now, I want what I need and need what I want. And they're both her.

I thought I could push away the hunger, but I was so wrong. And the scariest thing about it is I know that if I don't feed it soon, it's going to eat me.

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[walviemort]

hidden blessing (1/?)

Summary: Killian thought the only thing he was left with after Milah's death was a broken heart and a thirst for vengeance. It's not until he gets to Storybrooke, after so many years spent in stasis, that he discovers something else: he's carrying her child. How does this new, tiny blessing change his path? (Canon-divergent from 2x12.) 

rated T | AO3 | 2.7k

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @sherlockianwhovian​!!!! Here it is: that random idea I sent to you a few months ago and we had a crazy conversation about. I’ve been picking at it here and there ever since and today seemed like a good day to start posting. I hope you have a beautiful day, darling, even with all the craziness in the world! (General note: this will mostly follow canon, but may jump around a bit. And will be updated whenever I get to it, lol.)

With the heaviest of hearts, Killian watched as the body of his darling lover—and part of his soul—dropped to the depths of the sea. A significant part of him wanted to join her, but he knew that’d be a disservice to her memory. 

So instead, he led his crew to Neverland to bide their time until he could find a way to destroy his crocodile. Aside from a handful of ventures into the Enchanted Forest and other realms, they spent close to a century in the ageless realm. 

When they finally left Neverland for good, it was only a couple of weeks until he was again put in stasis by the Dark Curse. Once time unfroze, he got anxious as the months ticked by and they couldn’t leave, but Cora assured him—“Time still hasn’t started to move here, not really; we’re just not frozen in place. You’ll still have your pretty face once the curse breaks.”

And when it did, everything seemed to run faster. Was it really only a matter of days from the time the curse broke, to meeting Swan, to their adventure (and her subsequent betrayal) on the beanstalk, to fighting at Lake Nostos, to landing in Storybrooke? No wonder he was nauseous once they’d docked in the sleepy town. 

He figured a night of rest would send that away, but it lingered in the following days, even while enacting Cora’s plan and finally, finally starting to seek his revenge. Though the rounds of abuse suffered at the hands of the Dark One and his librarian lover certainly didn’t help. 

He got the last laugh, though, with his pistol. Watching the Crocodile’s panic at the realization his love didn’t know him filled him with glee—even if he was in pain a minute later after being thrown by the heavy metal coach. 

So it wasn’t much surprise when, hours later as he woke in the infirmary, everything hurt, including his stomach. 

“Good morning, Hook,” a man said a bit later. “I’m the doctor looking after you; name’s Whale. You took quite a hit there.”

The blonde man looked as haggard as he felt; Killian recognized a hangover when he saw one. But he only eyed the man warily and let him continue. 

“Nothing too serious happened, and you’re lucky. Ribs heal, but we’ll have to be careful not to do anything to hurt the baby.”

Killian blinked. Baby? What? He wasn’t expecting. “Beg your pardon, mate?” he asked, voice a bit rough with disuse. “What baby?”

Whale seemed surprised. “Your baby; the one you’re pregnant with right now. You didn’t know?”

Cold fear washed over Killian; he couldn’t be, could he? “Is this some kind of joke?” he bit out angrily. 

“It’s not; we checked your blood before giving you any pain medication. You know you’re capable of carrying children, right?”

“Aye,” he confirmed; all men in his family had a womb, so he knew it was possible. “But I haven’t lain with anyone in at least a century.” Not since his last night with Milah—though, as he recalled vividly, the situation was right for him to conceive. 

The doctor thought about it for a moment, then asked, “If it’s been that long, then how are you still here as a healthy young man?”

“I’ve been in Neverland; time doesn’t move there,” he explained. “As well as a handful of other situations that left me in stasis.”

“Well, that’s it, then,” the doctor said. “If your body wasn’t aging, neither was the fetus. But now that you’re here, that kid is finally getting the chance to grow.” 

The man continued to drone on about the biology behind everything, but the only thing Killian could focus on anymore was the fact that he was pregnant—with Milah’s child. A child she’d never know. Yet another thing the Crocodile had taken from them. 

Anger threatened to wash over him again, but then a quick wave of nausea brought him back down and found him instead staring at his midsection. He tried to place his hand on it, but found it was cuffed to the side of the bed. So instead, he put his bare stump over it, a rush of paternal feelings rising within. 

He wasn’t sure how his blood had confirmed it, but once he’d heard the words, something just clicked and he knew it to be true. He was going to be a father. And suddenly, he didn’t want anything else.

“Hook, did you hear any of that?”

Killian blinked and looked back up at the doctor. “Afraid not.”

Whale sighed. “Okay, I’ll say the important parts again: we want to do an exam to make sure everything is okay with your baby, given the number of hits you’ve taken over the last few days. Does that sound alright?”

“I suppose so, yes.” If anything, he was curious about this realm’s medicine and how it worked. But if it enabled him to ensure the well being of his child, then he’d do it without hesitation; he’d likely done enough to risk their health. 

“Alright; I’m headed into surgery, but someone from the OB-GYN will be around later. Rest up until then.”

He didn’t know what those letters meant, but nodded his assent and the doctor left. Which meant he was alone—but not really, apparently. 

He glanced back down at his still-flat stomach. At first, he was filled with shame at not knowing that new life was growing within him; goodness, the things he’d done in the past decades. Hell, the past month. He’d have to curb that immediately, assuming he hadn’t done any damage already.

Gods, he couldn’t live with himself if he had. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. Though he was sure the babe couldn’t hear him, it helped to say it out loud. “If I had known, I would have been so much more careful. But from now on, I promise to do whatever I can to keep you safe. Always.”

His mind grew fuzzy not long after and he drifted off; it was no surprise that he dreamed of holding a small child in his arms. They had bright blue eyes and curly hair that seemed to change color on a whim, from black to red to blonde. They were darling and precious and he couldn’t wait to meet them.

Until something pulled him from his dreams, and he was suddenly aware of another presence in the room. He blinked, winced at the various maladies all over his body, and was finally able to focus; Emma was sitting on the edge of his bed.

Emma; he’d forgotten about her for a bit there. (Understandably.) She looked pissed, which didn’t surprise him, but just as fierce as ever. Something stirred somewhere else—thankfully not his stomach, for once—and the attraction to her that he didn’t fully understand came back. He was torn between wanting to bed her and fight her. (Maybe both?)

She set the tone immediately, though. “Where's Cora?” she asked sternly.

He tried to sit up, preferring to have a confrontation at the same eye level, but first the cuff stopped him, and then his sore ribs did. “Damn, that hurts,” he hissed.

Emma stood and hovered over him. “Told you. You cracked a few ribs. Where's Cora?”

She was all business, but she was no match for his well-honed deflection skills—or flirtatious front. “You look good, I must say, all "Where's Cora?" in a commanding voice. Chills,” he added salaciously. It was fun to get a rise from her.

She just raised her eyebrow, unamused. “You have all sorts of sore places I can make you hurt.” without warning, she lunged forward, aiming for his ribs; instinctively, he brought up his left arm to protect both them and his baby. She didn’t connect, but clearly wasn’t afraid of using physical torture methods; in that instant, he knew—he wasn’t about to tell her, or anyone else, about the baby just yet; not if they could use it against him.

She pulled back and he relaxed, but the ache was renewed. Sighing, he told her, “I've no idea where Cora is. She has her own agenda.” And it was true; he hadn’t seen the witch since she placed the cloaking spell on his ship. “Let's talk about something I am interested in: my hook.” He felt slightly naked without his prosthesis. “May I have it back? Or is there another...attachment you'd prefer,” he tossed back, eyes glancing down his body. If he couldn’t physically defend himself, he could at least annoy her until she left. (Though he wouldn’t complain if she took him up on the offer.)

Emma rolled her eyes, of course. “You're awfully chipper for a guy who just failed to kill his enemy, then got hit by a car.”

“Well, my ribs may be broken, but everything else is still intact, which is more than can be said for all the other bad days I've had,” he said, gesturing with his stump. “Plus I did some quality damage to my foe.” 

“You hurt Belle.”

“I hurt his heart. Belle is just where he keeps it. He killed my love. I know the feeling.” Even further reason to keep his child far away from anyone who could hurt them.

Emma gave him a wry, insincere grin, and bent over him to come closer. “Keep smiling, buddy. He's on his feet, immortal, has magic, and you hurt his girl. If I had to pick dead guy of the year, I'd pick you.” And without another word, she turned and left.

He sighed and gently placed his stump back over his stomach; he hadn’t wanted to do that in front of Emma, lest it give her any ideas—male pregnancy was rare, but not unheard of, and he didn’t know how much she knew of the magical realms yet. But the encounter proved one thing: the number of people he could trust in this town was small, possibly nonexistent. 

And only reinforced that his child wouldn’t truly be safe until Rumplestiltskin was out of the picture completely.

Gods, he’d only known about the babe for a matter of hours and already had recentered his life around him or her. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that, of course, but still—it took him by surprise.

He dozed off again for an unknown period of time until a soft knocking woke him. “Oh, sorry; didn’t know you were asleep,” a timid-looking man said. He had white hair and glasses and was of short stature, looking altogether unthreatening—but the machinery he pushed on a small cart was completely foreign to Killian. “I’m Doc, the obstetrician.”

“The what?” was all Killian could say.

“I’m here to check on the baby.”

“Oh!” Killian exclaimed, and tried again to sit up, only to fail again.

“Here; let me.” The doctor rushed to the side of Killian’s bed and pressed something, making the top half of the bed lift as if by magic. 

“How did you do that?” Killian asked, trying to peer over the rail without causing further injury.

“It’s all mechanical; I can show you later. But first: can you tell me when you think you conceived?”

“Um, about 130 years ago, if my arithmetic is correct.”

The doctor dropped his pen as soon as he’d picked it up. “Beg your pardon?”

Killian explained again his history with Neverland, and Doc was well aware of the magical happenings since then, having been equally cursed. Killian also told him what he knew about his ability to carry children, though it wasn’t much, seeing as his father refused to and his brother never got the chance. “All I know is the woman has to be on top,” he summarized.

“Got it,” Doc answered, though clearly embarrassed a bit. “Well, given that this is as new to me as it is to you, I’m going to have to do some poking around in some...personal places. Is that alright?”

“Don’t have much choice, do I?”

“No, sorry; but I’ll be gentle.”

The doctor was true to his word, carefully examining Killian’s stomach and private areas and proclaiming that everything appeared to look good.

But then he picked up a wand-like device that appeared to be attached to the machine he’d brought with him, and started fiddling with the contraption. “What’s that?” Killian had to ask.

The doctor was blushing; this couldn’t be good. “Well, uh,” he stammered, clearly not sure how to explain it; Killian subconsciously wrapped his arm around his stomach a bit tighter. “It’s a machine that lets us see inside the womb; there are a couple different kinds here, but this one is a little more...invasive.”

The fact that such a device existed was incredible to Killian, but he quickly put two and two together. “Does that...thing...go inside me?”

“I’m afraid it does.”

“Bloody hell. Is it necessary?”

“Given what you’ve gone through, and that we’re not really sure how far along you are, it is.”

Killian sighed dramatically, but he could tell it was important. “Go ahead.”

While he knew worse lay ahead, he sincerely hoped to not have to go through anything so awkward as that examination. “Just look at the screen,” Doc said, trying to keep him calm; but the space on the machine only showed nondescript black and gray blurs at first. The feeling of the device within him was not pleasant, either, but finally, Doc proclaimed “Ah! There it is! Hear that?”

The oddest noise filled the room from the machine; Killian had no description for it. “What is that?”

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat, and look—there it is on the screen.”

It didn’t look like much, but Killian had to admit—there was something vaguely humanoid about the blob-like images on the screen.

“That’s the head, and the spine, and there’s the legs.”

Killian had to tilt his head to make sense of it, but it started to take shape. “Does it not have arms?”

Doc chuckled. “It does; we just can’t see them right now. Based on that image, I’d put you at about 11 weeks along.”

“You can tell from that? And what does that even mean?” He’d never heard of measuring pregnancy like that; he knew it took a certain number of months, but most people just estimated. The fact that they could narrow it down so much was astonishing—and made him realize how little he knew about what was to come.

Thankfully, Doc explained everything as he removed the device and cleaned up, and they were able to estimate a due date; he also recommended coming in regularly for appointments to track the progress of the child’s growth, which Killian wasn’t sure would be necessary, but he agreed in order to placate the doctor. 

The machine made some more weird noises and spat something out, which Doc took and handed to Killian. “Here; you can keep that.” It was the picture from the screen; goodness, this realm was proving to be a technological marvel. He wanted to take it but, again—handcuffs. “Oh, I’ll put it on the table then,” Doc said, and started to, but Killian couldn’t risk anyone seeing it.

“No, don’t—if you know where my coat ended up, can you put it in there? I...I don’t want anyone knowing just yet.”

“I understand,” Doc answered with a small smile. “It’s in the closet over here.”

As he put it away, Killian added, “I can trust your discretion, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Doc finished gathering his things and headed towards the door. “Oh, and Captain—one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Congratulations.”

Killian tried, but couldn’t hide his smile. “Thank you.”

He was going to be a father—a father to a child that was, by some miracle, the product of he and the woman he’d loved above all else. He didn’t consider himself a lucky man, but thanked the gods that they’d seen fit to bless him just this once. 

And he fell asleep once more, knowing that—for the first time in so many years—he had something worth living for other than his revenge.

----------------------------------------------------------------

thanks for reading! and be sure to send some birthday love to Leanne! tagging a few others: @cocohook38​ @ashley-knightingale​ @jennjenn615​ @wyntereyez​​ @superadam54​

#killian jones ff #mpreg #cs ff #happy birthday #sherlockianwhovian #my ff #hidden blessing

[filthysweetie]

James Bond drabble

Prompt: “Dear Diary...” 

missed a day >.< this one is begging to be a longer story, but i had to cut it so i can finish packing...note that there’s a brief description of torture in this one.

Edit: This now has a sequel here if anyone wants to read it :) 

———

Dear Diary,

Let it be known this is done under duress. Apparently, not being a bloody field agent does not get you out of psych evaluations and ‘recommended’ methods to cope with ‘high stress levels’ and ‘worrying tendency to identify job performance as self-worth’. I bet they didn’t make Boothyard do this. You get kidnapped once and then everyone suddenly thinks you’re a delicate flower. 

Hell, Bond got kidnapped (I guess it’s just called captured when they’re agents…which actually is now making me quite offended that when I was taken it was called kidnapping) on 7 of his last 15 missions. I don’t see him writing a damn diary about it! (Although god, imagine that.) Besides, what’s the point of keeping a diary if it’s mandated and also!! Your psychiatrist will be reading it? Maybe I should start writing in code. 01000110 01110101 01100011 01101011 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01000100 01110010 00101110 00100000 01011001 01100101 01101110 00101110 ——— “What is…that?”

Q turned, not the least bit surprised to see James standing there behind him. He had a mission coming up and was obviously ready for his kit. Q did a little ritual over the case, always so sad to see the fine pieces of machinery go when the chance of them returning was so dismal. Instead of focusing on the kit, though…Q followed his eyes to the little journal on his desk. It was covered in stickers (most of them shiny, some of them hello kitty gifted by a little one on the tube who got three on before he or her mother noticed) and attached in the pen holder was a pen with a fuzzy feather top. It was rainbow. 

Can’t blame the man for noticing it, it was a rather stark deviation from the normal color pallet and maturity level of Q’s desk.

“Oh, that old thing?” Q pat the top with a little more force than necessary, “my psych assigned diary. I figure if they choose to treat me like a child I may as well oblige.”

James took a moment before speaking, “And what, pray tell, made them think you need it?”

Q blinked, “Does that mean you’ve done it too?” That was a bit of a surprise. The double-o agents seems to thrive on their disregard of ‘normal’ coping, of medical, and of psych all together.

“Answer the question, Q.” James had the audacity to roll his eyes.

“Now I’m very curious,” Q can’t help it, “what do you write in it? About the girls you like? About more interesting ways to destroy my tech?”

“Mostly survivors guilt.” James says, nonchalant.

Well, that answers that, “Oh…” damn it, now he’s obliged to answer James’ question regardless of if this is an interrogation tactic or not. He gives a half shrug, “Dr. Yen assigned it after the kidnapping.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know, I thought it was all very much over the top as well.” Q fights a sigh, “Now your kit—”

James shakes his head, “No, wait, you were kidnapped?”

Q blinks, ignores the chill that goes down his spine; “I knew they didn’t release that on the official channels but I assumed you’d know none the less.” Q clears his throat, “Now, your kit.”

James quiets then, but there are a lot of questions behind his eyes. Who’s to say if Q focuses on his tech a bit more than he normally would. ——— Dear diary, 

I didn’t realize it had been kept quite so secret. I should have known, we are a spy organization. But I was {Q hesitates over the word, crossing out kidn and captu wishing suddenly that he was using his standard pencil instead of this purple inked mess of a pen} gone for 11 days. I guess I figured they would have told the double-os at least, maybe brought them in to help find me. Not that I needed anyone’s help, of course, I mean I got out of there myself, didn’t need anyone rescuing this damsel.

But the fact that {Ja is scribbled over fully; must remember that this will be read} there were agents I’m the primary handler of that didn’t notice at all. What excuse were they told when I wasn’t on the comms? Would they have just kept been given excuses until the forgot to keep asking?

My cats were fed, at least. Moneypenny thought I would come back, or at least held out enough hope to not sell my apartment and put my cats in a shelter after 11 bloody days. 

R had been searching non-stop—bless her, I think she needs this exercise more than me. Poor girl looked like she hadn’t slept since I’d left; keeping all the missions on track while searching for me. It was her and Riley and Sunil that found me on the security footage after I got out of that place and got me a pickup. It’s not like I was forgotten or anything. {Why do I feel forgotten? Q stares at the line in it’s stark purple ink for a long moment before crossing it out. He doesn’t want to talk about that with himself, let alone Dr. Yen.}

Regardless. R has finished debriefing me on all active missions that I’d missed some portion on, and overall everything is going well. Testing of the new laser pen fell behind during my absence but it’s to be expected. It will give me something to do tomorrow when most of my active agents are in transit. ——— “Q, Sir, we really need you in the pit.” Laila said, standing at the threshold of his office, seeming a bit more frazzled than normal. There are no alarms (auditory or silent) going off around her, so the attitude was a bit perplexing.

Q puts the soldering iron down on it’s stand and takes off the magnification glasses, replacing them with his own, already getting up and heading towards her, “What’s the matter?”

“Sir, one of the agents is being belligerent; requesting to speak only to you before moving forward with his mission.”

That’s a new one; “Alright then, transfer the secure line to my station please, Laila.”

It’s always nice, walking out to the floor, seeing his people working away. Standing at the center of it is like being cocooned within the greatest minds of London. It’s safe. 

“Yes?”

“Q”Jame’s voice is instantly recognizable, “I’ve arrived in Paraguay and will be rendezvousing with the contact at 1430.”

Q waited. Nothing.

“And?”

“That is all.”

Q blinked, glad that James couldn’t see the confusion that must certainly be coving his face, “You called me away from my prototypes to give me a standard mission update that you could have given to any one of my people?”

“Had to make sure you were still around, Q”

“Still—” it clicks, “Oh. Well. Yes, I am very much still around.

“Good.” Is that a smile in his voice or is Q projecting? “I’ll check in again after the rendezvous.”

Q’s throat clicks, dry; “I’ll be here.” ———— Dear Diary, 

When will this little experiment be over? It’s been a half month! I haven’t got much free time at all, and wasting it in this damn book isn’t helping anyone. Least of all me. ————— “I notice you haven’t actually written anything about the kidnapping?” Dr. Yen asks, looking through his entries with a clinical eye.

“I much prefer to call it capture.” Q says in leu of an answer. The sticker covered mess looks silly in her hands, but she seemed to have enjoyed his take on ‘making it his own’ even if he’d been doing the antithesis of that. Granted, some of his minions have added stickers to it too—so next to hello kitty is a ‘back it the fuck up’ sticker in fancy script with an old school desktop monitor showing the phrase, and a sparkly unicorn that Trevor insists is from his kids but Q has his doubts. If he leaves it on his desk unattended, when he comes back there are always new stickers. No one ever opens it, respecting some privacy that doesn’t really need respecting (it’s not like there’s anything of substance in there), but it’s a nice gesture none the less.

Dr. Yen smiles, “Of course,” Q wishes she were a bit more of a dick like Dr. Reynard had been—it was easier to dismiss someone when they were being an ass, “I notice you haven’t written about your capture—or escape for that matter—at all. There are some references to it, but no detail. Do you have any thoughts on why that is?”

Q takes a sip of tea. It is nice that these meetings are uninterrupted tea time—though he could do without the conversation. 

“There’s nothing important to say about it.” Q set the mug down, making sure to be gentle about it, “it’s all done, and I don’t exactly plan to get kidna—captured again.”

Dr. Yen gives an amused smile, “no one really plans to get captured at all.” Then, “Sometimes the act of writing down an experience”—she stopped using ‘traumatizing experience’ a while ago, Q did not have a traumatizing experience, thank you—“can solidify it in our reality. It may be difficult to do that at first, but once it is solidified, we can begin to process it in a healthy way.”

“It’s already written up in the after-action report.”

“Yes, but that was what happened, not how it felt to be going through those things.”

Q rolls his eyes, “do you want me to write a soliloquy on how sad and lonely it was and how I felt abandoned by MI6 and made peace with my death? Or maybe how it transformed me in ineffable ways and I have a new lease on life?”

It was so annoying to lay on that perfect level of sarcasm to have it disregarded so thoroughly, “If that’s how you feel, yes.” God she’s so earnest. 

“Well it wasn’t” Q snapped out. He picked up the mug again and took another sip. Setting it down extra soft, with barely a ‘clink’ on the glass table, “Excuse me, I must be more tired than I thought.”

“Not to worry,” Dr. Yen smiled, “your job is stressful any given day of the week, it’s certainly understandable. Please do give it a thought though as you go through this week. Sometimes putting things to paper allows our minds to ‘get it out of our system’ instead of having it linger in our subconscious.”

“Very well. I will give it some thought.” ———— Dear Diary, 

Lets give it the old college try, shall we?

I admire James Bond. He’s one of our best field agents, though his record for returning his tech is abysmal. He seems to come back from the brink of death more times than a cat and never seems to let it affect him. Always ready for the next mission.

I want to be like that. He’s been through so much, the loss of M, the burning of his home, the burning of so many false starts at a normal life, and he comes back and he may be battered but he’s still whole. Undoubtedly whole. I get kidnapped once and now I can’t even get a good nights sleep unless I’m folded awkwardly on the little couch in my office, and of course that sleep is poorer for other reasons. 

I know I’m capable, I know I can destroy countries and get myself out of most any situation that I find myself in, but I didn’t realize exactly how that situation would affect me. I haven’t lost confidence in my abilities, but maybe loss of confidence in my security? Is it just a waiting game to see when I’ll next be thrown into the back of a van, drugged, and then wake up in a windowless room, IV in my arm strapped to a chair with no fucking idea how much time has passed? When will I next find myself threatened and beaten? The soles of my feet slashed, so dehydrated that I can’t put my head up without feeling dizzy? 

Obviously I can survive it. I have. 

The thought of it happening again…it’s terrifying. And it can happen at any time. And I thought I admired James because he looked like a good lay. Maybe it’s because he seems unbreakable and I worry I’m already broken. ———— Q stared at the pages for a long time. Was he supposed to feel hollow?

He tore them out, crumpled them like a secret and then lit them on fire. This was a spy organization after all, no point in letting that level of weakness get out. ———— Dear Diary, 

Laila got a new corgi puppy. Despite being a cat person, I have to admit it’s quite cute.

#007 #james bond #q #00q #if you squint #drabble on #i fancy myself a writer #tw: torture #dear diary

[unsettlingshortstories]

I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream

Harlan Ellison (1967)

Limp, the body of Gorrister hung from the pink palette; unsupported—hanging high above us in the computer chamber; and it did not shiver in the chill, oily breeze that blew eternally through the main cavern. The body hung head down, attached to the underside of the palette by the sole of its right foot. It had been drained of blood through a precise incision made from ear to ear under the lantern jaw. There was no blood on the reflective surface of the metal floor. 

When Gorrister joined our group and looked up at himself, it was already too late for us to realize that, once again, AM had duped us, had had its fun; it had been a diversion on the part of the machine. Three of us had vomited, turning away from one another in a reflex as ancient as the nausea that had produced it. Gorrister went white. 

It was almost as though he had seen a voodoo icon, and was afraid of the future. "Oh, God," he mumbled, and walked away. The three of us followed him after a time, and found him sitting with his back to one of the smaller chittering banks, his head in his hands. Ellen knelt down beside him and stroked his hair. He didn't move, but his voice came out of his covered face quite clearly. "Why doesn't it just do us in and get it over with? Christ, I don't know how much longer I can go on like this." 

It was our one hundred and ninth year in the computer. 

He was speaking for all of us. Nimdok (which was the name the machine had forced him to use, because AM amused itself with strange sounds) was hallucinating that there were canned goods in the ice caverns. Gorrister and I were very dubious. "It's another shuck," I told them. "Like the goddam frozen elephant AM sold us. Benny almost went out of his mind over that one. We'll hike all that way and it'll be putrified or some damn thing. I say forget it. Stay here, it'll have to come up with something pretty soon or we'll die." 

Benny shrugged. Three days it had been since we'd last eaten. Worms. Thick, ropey. 

Nimdok was no more certain. He knew there was the chance, but he was getting thin. It couldn't be any worse there, than here. Colder, but that didn't matter much. Hot, cold, hail, lava, boils or locusts—it never mattered: the machine masturbated and we had to take it or die. 

Ellen decided us. "I've got to have something, Ted. Maybe there'll be some Bartlett pears or peaches. Please, Ted, let's try it." 

I gave in easily. What the hell. Mattered not at all. Ellen was grateful, though. She took me twice out of turn. Even that had ceased to matter. And she never came, so why bother? But the machine giggled every time we did it. Loud, up there, back there, all around us, he snickered. It snickered. Most of the time I thought of AM as it, without a soul; but the rest of the time I thought of it as him, in the masculine … the paternal … the patriarchal … for he is a jealous people. Him. It. God as Daddy the Deranged. 

We left on a Thursday. The machine always kept us up-to-date on the date. The passage of time was important; not to us, sure as hell, but to him … it … AM. Thursday. Thanks. 

Nimdok and Gorrister carried Ellen for a while, their hands locked to their own and each other's wrists, a seat. Benny and I walked before and after, just to make sure that, if anything happened, it would catch one of us and at least Ellen would be safe. Fat chance, safe. Didn't matter. 

It was only a hundred miles or so to the ice caverns, and the second day, when we were lying out under the blistering sun-thing he had materialized, he sent down some manna. Tasted like boiled boar urine. We ate it. 

On the third day we passed through a valley of obsolescence, filled with rusting carcasses of ancient computer banks. AM had been as ruthless with its own life as with ours. It was a mark of his personality: it strove for perfection. Whether it was a matter of killing off unproductive elements in his own world-filling bulk, or perfecting methods for torturing us, AM was as thorough as those who had invented him—now long since gone to dust—could ever have hoped. 

There was light filtering down from above, and we realized we must be very near the surface. But we didn't try to crawl up to see. There was virtually nothing out there; had been nothing that could be considered anything for over a hundred years. Only the blasted skin of what had once been the home of billions. Now there were only five of us, down here inside, alone with AM. 

I heard Ellen saying frantically, "No, Benny! Don't, come on, Benny, don't please!" 

And then I realized I had been hearing Benny murmuring, under his breath, for several minutes. He was saying, "I'm gonna get out, I'm gonna get out …" over and over. His monkey-like face was crumbled up in an expression of beatific delight and sadness, all at the same time. The radiation scars AM had given him during the "festival" were drawn down into a mass of pinkwhite puckerings, and his features seemed to work independently of one another. Perhaps Benny was the luckiest of the five of us: he had gone stark, staring mad many years before. 

But even though we could call AM any damned thing we liked, could think the foulest thoughts of fused memory banks and corroded base plates, of burnt out circuits and shattered control bubbles, the machine would not tolerate our trying to escape. Benny leaped away from me as I made a grab for him. He scrambled up the face of a smaller memory cube, tilted on its side and filled with rotted components. He squatted there for a moment, looking like the chimpanzee AM had intended him to resemble. 

Then he leaped high, caught a trailing beam of pitted and corroded metal, and went up it, handover-hand like an animal, till he was on a girdered ledge, twenty feet above us. 

"Oh, Ted, Nimdok, please, help him, get him down before—" She cut off. Tears began to stand in her eyes. She moved her hands aimlessly. 

It was too late. None of us wanted to be near him when whatever was going to happen, happened. And besides, we all saw through her concern. When AM had altered Benny, during the machine's utterly irrational, hysterical phase, it was not merely Benny's face the computer had made like a giant ape's. He was big in the privates; she loved that! She serviced us, as a matter of course, but she loved it from him. Oh Ellen, pedestal Ellen, pristine-pure Ellen; oh Ellen the clean! Scum filth. 

Gorrister slapped her. She slumped down, staring up at poor loonie Benny, and she cried. It was her big defense, crying. We had gotten used to it seventy-five years earlier. Gorrister kicked her in the side. 

Then the sound began. It was light, that sound. Half sound and half light, something that began to glow from Benny's eyes, and pulse with growing loudness, dim sonorities that grew more gigantic and brighter as the light/sound increased in tempo. It must have been painful, and the pain must have been increasing with the boldness of the light, the rising volume of the sound, for Benny began to mewl like a wounded animal. At first softly, when the light was dim and the sound was muted, then louder as his shoulders hunched together: his back humped, as though he was trying to get away from it. His hands folded across his chest like a chipmunk's. His head tilted to the side. The sad little monkey-face pinched in anguish. Then he began to howl, as the sound coming from his eyes grew louder. Louder and louder. I slapped the sides of my head with my hands, but I couldn't shut it out, it cut through easily. The pain shivered through my flesh like tinfoil on a tooth. 

And Benny was suddenly pulled erect. On the girder he stood up, jerked to his feet like a puppet. The light was now pulsing out of his eyes in two great round beams. The sound crawled up and up some incomprehensible scale, and then he fell forward, straight down, and hit the plate-steel floor with a crash. He lay there jerking spastically as the light flowed around and around him and the sound spiraled up out of normal range. 

Then the light beat its way back inside his head, the sound spiraled down, and he was left lying there, crying piteously. 

His eyes were two soft, moist pools of pus-like jelly. AM had blinded him. Gorrister and Nimdok and myself … we turned away. But not before we caught the look of relief on Ellen's warm, concerned face. 

Sea-green light suffused the cavern where we made camp. AM provided punk and we burned it, sitting huddled around the wan and pathetic fire, telling stories to keep Benny from crying in his permanent night. 

"What does AM mean?"

Gorrister answered him. We had done this sequence a thousand times before, but it was Benny's favorite story. "At first it meant Allied Mastercomputer, and then it meant Adaptive Manipulator, and later on it developed sentience and linked itself up and they called it an Aggressive Menace, but by then it was too late, and finally it called itself AM, emerging intelligence, and what it meant was I am … cogito ergo sum … I think, therefore I am." 

Benny drooled a little, and snickered. 

"There was the Chinese AM and the Russian AM and the Yankee AM and—" He stopped. Benny was beating on the floorplates with a large, hard fist. He was not happy. Gorrister had not started at the beginning. 

Gorrister began again. "The Cold War started and became World War Three and just kept going. It became a big war, a very complex war, so they needed the computers to handle it. They sank the first shafts and began building AM. There was the Chinese AM and the Russian AM and the Yankee AM and everything was fine until they had honeycombed the entire planet, adding on this element and that element. But one day AM woke up and knew who he was, and he linked himself, and he began feeding all the killing data, until everyone was dead, except for the five of us, and AM brought us down here." 

Benny was smiling sadly. He was also drooling again. Ellen wiped the spittle from the corner of his mouth with the hem of her skirt. Gorrister always tried to tell it a little more succinctly each time, but beyond the bare facts there was nothing to say. None of us knew why AM had saved five people, or why our specific five, or why he spent all his time tormenting us, or even why he had made us virtually immortal … 

In the darkness, one of the computer banks began humming. The tone was picked up half a mile away down the cavern by another bank. Then one by one, each of the elements began to tune itself, and there was a faint chittering as thought raced through the machine. 

The sound grew, and the lights ran across the faces of the consoles like heat lightening. The sound spiraled up till it sounded like a million metallic insects, angry, menacing. 

"What is it?" Ellen cried. There was terror in her voice. She hadn't become accustomed to it, even now. 

"It's going to be bad this time," Nimdok said. 

"He's going to speak," Gorrister said. "I know it." 

"Let's get the hell out of here!" I said suddenly, getting to my feet. 

"No, Ted, sit down … what if he's got pits out there, or something else, we can't see, it's too dark." Gorrister said it with resignation. 

Then we heard … I don't know … 

Something moving toward us in the darkness. Huge, shambling, hairy, moist, it came toward us. We couldn't even see it, but there was the ponderous impression of bulk, heaving itself toward us. Great weight was coming at us, out of the darkness, and it was more a sense of pressure, of air forcing itself into a limited space, expanding the invisible walls of a sphere. Benny began to whimper. Nimdok's lower lip trembled and he bit it hard, trying to stop it. Ellen slid across the metal floor to Gorrister and huddled into him. There was the smell of matted, wet fur in the cavern. There was the smell of charred wood. There was the smell of dusty velvet. There was the smell of rotting orchids. There was the smell of sour milk. There was the smell of sulphur, of rancid butter, of oil slick, of grease, of chalk dust, of human scalps. 

AM was keying us. He was tickling us. There was the smell of— 

I heard myself shriek, and the hinges of my jaws ached. I scuttled across the floor, across the cold metal with its endless lines of rivets, on my hands and knees, the smell gagging me, filling my head with a thunderous pain that sent me away in horror. I fled like a cockroach, across the floor and out into the darkness, that something moving inexorably after me. The others were still back there, gathered around the firelight, laughing … their hysterical choir of insane giggles rising up into the darkness like thick, many-colored wood smoke. I went away, quickly, and hid. 

How many hours it may have been, how many days or even years, they never told me. Ellen chided me for "sulking," and Nimdok tried to persuade me it had only been a nervous reflex on their part—the laughing. 

But I knew it wasn't the relief a soldier feels when the bullet hits the man next to him. I knew it wasn't a reflex. They hated me. They were surely against me, and AM could even sense this hatred, and made it worse for me because of the depth of their hatred. We had been kept alive, rejuvenated, made to remain constantly at the age we had been when AM had brought us below, and they hated me because I was the youngest, and the one AM had affected least of all. 

I knew. God, how I knew. The bastards, and that dirty bitch Ellen. Benny had been a brilliant theorist, a college professor; now he was little more than a semi-human, semi-simian. He had been handsome, the machine had ruined that. He had been lucid, the machine had driven him mad. He had been gay, and the machine had given him an organ fit for a horse. AM had done a job on Benny. Gorrister had been a worrier. He was a connie, a conscientious objector; he was a peace marcher; he was a planner, a doer, a looker-ahead. AM had turned him into a shouldershrugger, had made him a little dead in his concern. AM had robbed him. Nimdok went off in the darkness by himself for long times. I don't know what it was he did out there, AM never let us know. But whatever it was, Nimdok always came back white, drained of blood, shaken, shaking. AM had hit him hard in a special way, even if we didn't know quite how. And Ellen. That douche bag! AM had left her alone, had made her more of a slut than she had ever been. All her talk of sweetness and light, all her memories of true love, all the lies she wanted us to believe: that she had been a virgin only twice removed before AM grabbed her and brought her down here with us. No, AM had given her pleasure, even if she said it wasn't nice to do. 

I was the only one still sane and whole. Really! 

AM had not tampered with my mind. Not at all.

I only had to suffer what he visited down on us. All the delusions, all the nightmares, the torments. But those scum, all four of them, they were lined and arrayed against me. If I hadn't had to stand them off all the time, be on my guard against them all the time, I might have found it easier to combat AM. 

At which point it passed, and I began crying. 

Oh, Jesus sweet Jesus, if there ever was a Jesus and if there is a God, please please please let us out of here, or kill us. Because at that moment I think I realized completely, so that I was able to verbalize it: AM was intent on keeping us in his belly forever, twisting and torturing us forever. The machine hated us as no sentient creature had ever hated before. And we were helpless. It also became hideously clear: 

 If there was a sweet Jesus and if there was a God, the God was AM. 

The hurricane hit us with the force of a glacier thundering into the sea. It was a palpable presence. Winds that tore at us, flinging us back the way we had come, down the twisting, computer-lined corridors of the darkway. Ellen screamed as she was lifted and hurled faceforward into a screaming shoal of machines, their individual voices strident as bats in flight. She could not even fall. The howling wind kept her aloft, buffeted her, bounced her, tossed her back and back and down and away from us, out of sight suddenly as she was swirled around a bend in the darkway. Her face had been bloody, her eyes closed. 

None of us could get to her. We clung tenaciously to whatever outcropping we had reached: Benny wedged in between two great crackle-finish cabinets, Nimdok with fingers claw-formed over a railing circling a catwalk forty feet above us, Gorrister plastered upside-down against a wall niche formed by two great machines with glass-faced dials that swung back and forth between red and yellow lines whose meanings we could not even fathom. 

Sliding across the deckplates, the tips of my fingers had been ripped away. I was trembling, shuddering, rocking as the wind beat at me, whipped at me, screamed down out of nowhere at me and pulled me free from one sliver-thin opening in the plates to the next. My mind was a roiling tinkling chittering softness of brain parts that expanded and contracted in quivering frenzy. 

The wind was the scream of a great mad bird, as it flapped its immense wings. 

And then we were all lifted and hurled away from there, down back the way we had come, around a bend, into a darkway we had never explored, over terrain that was ruined and filled with broken glass and rotting cables and rusted metal and far away, farther than any of us had ever been … 

Trailing along miles behind Ellen, I could see her every now and then, crashing into metal walls and surging on, with all of us screaming in the freezing, thunderous hurricane wind that would never end and then suddenly it stopped and we fell. We had been in flight for an endless time. I thought it might have been weeks. We fell, and hit, and I went through red and gray and black and heard myself moaning. Not dead. 

AM went into my mind. He walked smoothly here and there, and looked with interest at all the pock marks he had created in one hundred and nine years. He looked at the cross-routed and reconnected synapses and all the tissue damage his gift of immortality had included. He smiled softly at the pit that dropped into the center of my brain and the faint, moth-soft murmurings of the things far down there that gibbered without meaning, without pause. AM said, very politely, in a pillar of stainless steel bearing bright neon lettering: 

AM said it with the sliding cold horror of a razor blade slicing my eyeball. AM said it with the bubbling thickness of my lungs filling with phlegm, drowning me from within. AM said it with the shriek of babies being ground beneath blue-hot rollers. AM said it with the taste of maggoty pork. AM touched me in every way I had ever been touched, and devised new ways, at his leisure, there inside my mind. 

All to bring me to full realization of why it had done this to the five of us; why it had saved us for himself. 

We had given AM sentience. Inadvertently, of course, but sentience nonetheless. But it had been trapped. AM wasn't God, he was a machine. We had created him to think, but there was nothing it could do with that creativity. In rage, in frenzy, the machine had killed the human race, almost all of us, and still it was trapped. AM could not wander, AM could not wonder, AM could not belong. He could merely be. And so, with the innate loathing that all machines had always held for the weak, soft creatures who had built them, he had sought revenge. And in his paranoia, he had decided to reprieve five of us, for a personal, everlasting punishment that would never serve to diminish his hatred … that would merely keep him reminded, amused, proficient at hating man. Immortal, trapped, subject to any torment he could devise for us from the limitless miracles at his command. 

He would never let us go. We were his belly slaves. We were all he had to do with his forever time. We would be forever with him, with the cavern-filling bulk of the creature machine, with the all-mind soulless world he had become. He was Earth, and we were the fruit of that Earth; and though he had eaten us, he would never digest us. We could not die. We had tried it. We had attempted suicide, oh one or two of us had. But AM had stopped us. I suppose we had wanted to be stopped. 

Don't ask why. I never did. More than a million times a day. Perhaps once we might be able to sneak a death past him. Immortal, yes, but not indestructible. I saw that when AM withdrew from my mind, and allowed me the exquisite ugliness of returning to consciousness with the feeling of that burning neon pillar still rammed deep into the soft gray brain matter. 

He withdrew, murmuring to hell with you. 

And added, brightly, but then you're there, aren't you. 

The hurricane had, indeed, precisely, been caused by a great mad bird, as it flapped its immense wings.

We had been travelling for close to a month, and AM had allowed passages to open to us only sufficient to lead us up there, directly under the North Pole, where it had nightmared the creature for our torment. What whole cloth had he employed to create such a beast? Where had he gotten the concept? From our minds? From his knowledge of everything that had ever been on this planet he now infested and ruled? From Norse mythology it had sprung, this eagle, this carrion bird, this roc, this Huergelmir. The wind creature. Hurakan incarnate. 

Gigantic. The words immense, monstrous, grotesque, massive, swollen, overpowering, beyond description. There on a mound rising above us, the bird of winds heaved with its own irregular breathing, its snake neck arching up into the gloom beneath the North Pole, supporting a head as large as a Tudor mansion; a beak that opened slowly as the jaws of the most monstrous crocodile ever conceived, sensuously; ridges of tufted flesh puckered about two evil eyes, as cold as the view down into a glacial crevasse, ice blue and somehow moving liquidly; it heaved once more, and lifted its great sweat-colored wings in a movement that was certainly a shrug. Then it settled and slept. Talons. Fangs. Nails. Blades. It slept. 

AM appeared to us as a burning bush and said we could kill the hurricane bird if we wanted to eat. We had not eaten in a very long time, but even so, Gorrister merely shrugged. Benny began to shiver and he drooled. Ellen held him. "Ted, I'm hungry," she said. I smiled at her; I was trying to be reassuring, but it was as phony as Nimdok's bravado: "Give us weapons!" he demanded. 

The burning bush vanished and there were two crude sets of bows and arrows, and a water pistol, lying on the cold deckplates. I picked up a set. Useless. 

Nimdok swallowed heavily. We turned and started the long way back. The hurricane bird had blown us about for a length of time we could not conceive. Most of that time we had been unconscious. But we had not eaten. A month on the march to the bird itself. Without food. Now how much longer to find our way to the ice caverns, and the promised canned goods? 

None of us cared to think about it. We would not die. We would be given filth and scum to eat, of one kind or another. Or nothing at all. AM would keep our bodies alive somehow, in pain, in agony. 

The bird slept back there, for how long it didn't matter; when AM was tired of its being there, it would vanish. But all that meat. All that tender meat. 

As we walked, the lunatic laugh of a fat woman rang high and around us in the computer chambers that led endlessly nowhere. 

It was not Ellen's laugh. She was not fat, and I had not heard her laugh for one hundred and nine years. In fact, I had not heard … we walked … I was hungry … 

We moved slowly. There was often fainting, and we would have to wait. One day he decided to cause an earthquake, at the same time rooting us to the spot with nails through the soles of our shoes. Ellen and Nimdok were both caught when a fissure shot its lightning-bolt opening across the floorplates. They disappeared and were gone. When the earthquake was over we continued on our way, Benny, Gorrister and myself. Ellen and Nimdok were returned to us later that night, which abruptly became a day, as the heavenly legion bore them to us with a celestial chorus singing, "Go Down Moses." The archangels circled several times and then dropped the hideously mangled bodies. We kept walking, and a while later Ellen and Nimdok fell in behind us. They were no worse for wear. 

But now Ellen walked with a limp. AM had left her that. 

It was a long trip to the ice caverns, to find the canned food. Ellen kept talking about Bing cherries and Hawaiian fruit cocktail. I tried not to think about it. The hunger was something that had come to life, even as AM had come to life. It was alive in my belly, even as we were in the belly of the Earth, and AM wanted the similarity known to us. So he heightened the hunger. There is no way to describe the pains that not having eaten for months brought us. And yet we were kept alive. Stomachs that were merely cauldrons of acid, bubbling, foaming, always shooting spears of sliver-thin pain into our chests. It was the pain of the terminal ulcer, terminal cancer, terminal paresis. It was unending pain …

And we passed through the cavern of rats. 

And we passed through the path of boiling steam. 

And we passed through the country of the blind. 

And we passed through the slough of despond. 

And we passed through the vale of tears. 

And we came, finally, to the ice caverns. Horizonless thousands of miles in which the ice had formed in blue and silver flashes, where novas lived in the glass. The downdropping stalactites as thick and glorious as diamonds that had been made to run like jelly and then solidified in graceful eternities of smooth, sharp perfection. 

We saw the stack of canned goods, and we tried to run to them. We fell in the snow, and we got up and went on, and Benny shoved us away and went at them, and pawed them and gummed them and gnawed at them, and he could not open them. AM had not given us a tool to open the cans. 

Benny grabbed a three quart can of guava shells, and began to batter it against the ice bank. The ice flew and shattered, but the can was merely dented, while we heard the laughter of a fat lady, high overhead and echoing down and down and down the tundra. Benny went completely mad with rage. He began throwing cans, as we all scrabbled about in the snow and ice trying to find a way to end the helpless agony of frustration. There was no way. 

Then Benny's mouth began to drool, and he flung himself on Gorrister … 

In that instant, I felt terribly calm. Surrounded by madness, surrounded by hunger, surrounded by everything but death, I knew death was our only way out. AM had kept us alive, but there was a way to defeat him. Not total defeat, but at least peace. I would settle for that. 

I had to do it quickly. 

Benny was eating Gorrister's face. Gorrister on his side, thrashing snow, Benny wrapped around him with powerful monkey legs crushing Gorrister's waist, his hands locked around Gorrister's head like a nutcracker, and his mouth ripping at the tender skin of Gorrister's cheek. Gorrister screamed with such jagged-edged violence that stalactites fell; they plunged down softly, erect in the receiving snowdrifts. Spears, hundreds of them, everywhere, protruding from the snow. Benny's head pulled back sharply, as something gave all at once, and a bleeding raw-white dripping of flesh hung from his teeth. 

Ellen's face, black against the white snow, dominoes in chalk dust. Nimdok, with no expression but eyes, all eyes. Gorrister, half-conscious. Benny, now an animal. I knew AM would let him play. Gorrister would not die, but Benny would fill his stomach. I turned half to my right and drew a huge ice-spear from the snow. 

All in an instant: 

I drove the great ice-point ahead of me like a battering ram, braced against my right thigh. It struck Benny on the right side, just under the rib cage, and drove upward through his stomach and broke inside him. He pitched forward and lay still. Gorrister lay on his back. I pulled another spear free and straddled him, still moving, driving the spear straight down through his throat. His eyes closed as the cold penetrated. Ellen must have realized what I had decided, even as fear gripped her. She ran at Nimdok with a short icicle, as he screamed, and into his mouth, and the force of her rush did the job. His head jerked sharply as if it had been nailed to the snow crust behind him. 

All in an instant. 

There was an eternity beat of soundless anticipation. I could hear AM draw in his breath. His toys had been taken from him. Three of them were dead, could not be revived. He could keep us alive, by his strength and talent, but he was not God. He could not bring them back. 

Ellen looked at me, her ebony features stark against the snow that surrounded us. There was fear and pleading in her manner, the way she held herself ready. I knew we had only a heartbeat before AM would stop us. 

It struck her and she folded toward me, bleeding from the mouth. I could not read meaning into her expression, the pain had been too great, had contorted her face; but it might have been thank you. It's possible. Please. 

Some hundreds of years may have passed. I don't know. AM has been having fun for some time, accelerating and retarding my time sense. I will say the word now. Now. It took me ten months to say now. I don't know. I think it has been some hundreds of years. 

He was furious. He wouldn't let me bury them. It didn't matter. There was no way to dig up the deckplates. He dried up the snow. He brought the night. He roared and sent locusts. It didn't do a thing; they stayed dead. I'd had him. He was furious. I had thought AM hated me before. I was wrong. It was not even a shadow of the hate he now slavered from every printed circuit. He made certain I would suffer eternally and could not do myself in. 

He left my mind intact. I can dream, I can wonder, I can lament. I remember all four of them. I wish— 

Well, it doesn't make any sense. I know I saved them, I know I saved them from what has happened to me, but still, I cannot forget killing them. Ellen's face. It isn't easy. Sometimes I want to, it doesn't matter. 

AM has altered me for his own peace of mind, I suppose. He doesn't want me to run at full speed into a computer bank and smash my skull. Or hold my breath till I faint. Or cut my throat on a rusted sheet of metal. There are reflective surfaces down here. I will describe myself as I see myself: 

I am a great soft jelly thing. Smoothly rounded, with no mouth, with pulsing white holes filled by fog where my eyes used to be. Rubbery appendages that were once my arms; bulks rounding down into legless humps of soft slippery matter. I leave a moist trail when I move. Blotches of diseased, evil gray come and go on my surface, as though light is being beamed from within. 

Outwardly: dumbly, I shamble about, a thing that could never have been known as human, a thing whose shape is so alien a travesty that humanity becomes more obscene for the vague resemblance. 

Inwardly: alone. Here. Living under the land, under the sea, in the belly of AM, whom we created because our time was badly spent and we must have known unconsciously that he could do it better. At least the four of them are safe at last. 

AM will be all the madder for that. It makes me a little happier. And yet … AM has won, simply … he has taken his revenge … 

I have no mouth. And I must scream. 

[jokerfan99]

Insult to Injury (RWBY/RVB) by Necroceph

*RVB Opening Theme*

On the Blue Base's roof

Church: The fuck are they doing over there?

He's right, what on Earth are the Red's doing. Through his rifle's scope, he sees the Reds building something on their roof what appears to be, a signboard?! First the stink formula, now this? Who's giving them these stupid ideas anyway? Hey don't look at me, I'm just the narrator!

Caboose: Hello!

Out of the blue, no pun intended, Caboose pops up into Church's view.

Church: Aaaaah! Goddammit, don't scare me like that! Caboose: Sorry. Whatcha watching? Church: Check this out.

Church gives Caboose a peak through the scope.

Church: I don't know what they're building, but it looks like a signboard. Caboose: Signboard? Aww, not another highway advertisement! Church: Who knows what they're using it for. My guess is Sarge just wanted to write something to mock us, that's for sure. Caboose: Or maybe they're planning to advertise their products so that they can earn a quick profit. Church: What? Who the fuck would be buying their junk? Not us of course. Caboose: Maybe Sangheili's passing by in the atmosphere? Church: Guess we'll have to find out ourselves. By the way, what are you doing up here? Caboose: Oh right! I'm here to tell you that Weiss is awake! Hooray! Church: It's about time that Ice Queen wakes up. Here take the rifle, I'm going to have word with her. Caboose: Uhm, Church, what about me? Church: I don't know just... spy on the Red's construction I guess. Call me out if anything new comes up.

At the Blue Base, Weiss' Room

I'm never going near another trash bin for a week. Weiss thought to herself as she takes another sip of her coffee, specially prepared by none other than Kaikaina. Weiss gotta hand it to the Grif, this is one hell of a caffeine.

Kaikaina: You want Dr. Kai to get you some meds? Weiss: No no, I'm perfectly fine. No need to concern yourselves over me. I've been through worse situations before. Tucker: Schnee, you passed out since yesterday! I doubt you're still fine. Kaikaina: Yeah. Plus you even puke while you slept. Weiss: I beg your pardon? Kaikaina: Nothing!

The door opens as Church enter to see Weiss fully recovered from her sixteen hour coma.

Church: Good to see the Snow White has awaken from her deathly slumber. Tell me, did the 'Prince of the Holy Sword' kiss you? Tucker: Wha-? No way I wouldn't do that while a chick's old cold! Though I would if she wants to... do you, baby?

SMASH!!!

Weiss hits Tucker with her mug, shattering it in the process. Even with his helmet on, he somehow felt the pain in the side of his head.

Tucker: OW! I was just saying! Weiss: At least learn how to shut that perverted mouth of yours, Lavernius! Hmph. Church: Not as perverted as suggesting a tight bikini wrestling match yesterday. Weiss: *shiver* Don't bring up that idea again. Tucker: So, Church. I'm guessing this isn't just to check up on her, is it? Church: Nope. In fact I'm here to talk about her fight with the Red yesterday. Tucker: Oh that one. Man it was awesome! Church: I'm not talking about that! From what I saw, she and that Red seem know each other. Is that right, Schnee?

Everybody turn their heads to Weiss.

Weiss: I don't want to talk about it. Church: Well too bad, we are going to talk about it whether you like it or not. So what were you two before, best friends? Tucker: Rivals? Kaikaina: Lovers?

Everybody looks at Kai.

Kaikaina: What, was I really the only one thinking that when they were fighting? Tucker: Speaking of lovers, were you two bisexu- Church: Shut the fuck up Tucker! Look just explain from the beginning, don't care how long, just say it. Weiss: ... Fine if that's to prevent you guys from asking me again and again in the future, so be it. Did I told you guys about the a military academy I studied at before I came to Blood Gulch? Everyone: No. Weiss: Of course. Anyways, me and... that girl, were for a lack for a better word, partners. Kaikaina: Hell yeah, I knew you guys were lovers! Church: She's not referring to that kind of 'partnership'! Weiss: Our relationship was somewhat great if you could say that. Not the brightest girls I know, but she was alright once you get to know her more. Kaikaina: Kinda reminds me of this girl I knew before coming here. Tucker: She a friend? Kaikaina: Nah we fucked, literally. Tucker: Woo baby! Weiss: Would you mind? Tucker: Sorry. Church: So how did your relationship go downhill? Weiss: Oh you would not believe what I've been through. One day, we were posted at this base on a planetoid as part of our final assignment. I think it's called Amity. Anyways the job was simple, follow your superior's orders and make sure no unathorized personal gets in. Everything was fine for the first week. Soldiers talking around, complaining about the weather, you name it. Tucker: Is it me, or does this story sounded familiar? Church: Shh! Weiss: Me and my partner weren't together most of the time there cause we were given two different orders. She patrols around the base while I sit in the server room, keeping away not only unauthorized intruders but 'undisciplined' hands as well. I mean who would be watching porn in a state of the art archive machine? Not only are they disgusting like Tucker,- Tucker: Hey! Weiss: -but they have arrogantly ignore their duties and- Church: Schnee? Hate to remind you but, this isn't a therapy session. Weiss: Sorry. Anyway, I kept away undisciplined hands from the server room.

Transition fade to flashback

Amity guard 01: Oh come on honey, just one download. Pleeeeaaaassee! Weiss: No. Amity guard 02: Look kid. There's nothing to do but standing around here and talk all day. Some of us have already died of boredom! Weiss: And since when did that happen, 'sir'? Amity guard 02: Uhm... last Tuesday. Weiss: That incident? He didn't die of boredom! He just slipped and broke his neck upon impact. Plus he's still alive! I can't believe you all here. You're supposed to be soldiers fighting for your government and still you act like conscripts from the past! Amity guard 01: Hey don't blame us, blame human nature.

And that's when the base shooked. Space pirates. One of the guards I talked to started panicking.

Amity guard 02: OH MY GOD, WE'RE BEING ATTACKED! WE'RE DOOMED!!!

Every guard in the room rushed out until the commander called me. He ordered me to collect all the data to prevent them from falling into enemy hands, so I did what I was told. Once I got the data, I was to rendezvous at the landing bays to be evacuated. On the way to the bay, I came across my partner along with some guy she's carrying over he shoulders.

Weiss: Ruby, what's going on? Ruby: I don't know! Some guys just came out of nowhere and start blowing up the place. Command ordered us to fight back before reinforcements arrive. Weiss: Well go and stop them. Ruby: We can't! These guys are heavily armed and we're loosing a lot of men! Our top priority now is getting everybody out of here! Weiss: Command's new orders? Ruby: Nope. Weiss: Then who's order is that? Ruby: Uhm... mine? Weiss: WHAT?! Ruby: Look just help us out and we'll explain to command later. Weiss: I can't, I have to get out of here! I'm carrying the base's data and is highly important that I evacuate immediately. Ruby: What?! What about everyone here? We can't just leave them to die here!

That's when I got shot in the arm. My partner started fighting the intruders back while I run off to the landing bays to keep the data safe. It was miracle the landing bay wasn't attacked yet and so I manage to escape safely. The data was secured but the base, not so much. We've lost half our men that day and everything stored there was either looted or destroyed.

Transition slide out of flashback

Tucker: So... what happened afterwards? Did you get a medal? Weiss: I did. They gave me a Colonial Cross for my bravery. But after what happenedback there... sigh... I didn't manage to get the scores I needed. THANKS TO HER THAT IS! Church: Is that why you're pissed at her? The scores? Weiss: You have no idea how important it was to get those scores and our pride! If she hadn't just followed her orders and stop those pirates. Things would've gone smoothly! But nooooooooooooo! She just had to disobey her orders and started evacuating people as many as possible. If she had rally them to fight instead, everything would've gone different! DAMN HER! I'M GLAD SHE DIDN'T GET A MEDAL OF HONOR! AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT'S WORST? SHE CALLED ME A DESERTER. DESERTER! I WAS ONLY DOING MY DUTY! ARRRGH! I'm sorry I got carried away again. Once I recovered my wounds, she renounced our partnership right at my face! Well that's good for me. Hmph! Church: *whistle* This is a lot like my relationship with Tex. So what will you do now that you and her saw one another? Weiss: Something I've should have done long after we split. DESTROY HER!

Weiss pulls off her most angry face, but not as fierce Ruby's demonic anger but still... *Suspenseful stinger music*

Weiss: Nonono, that method is just too simple. Hmmmmm... or maybe!... nonono, torture's too barbaric. Tucker: Wow she really is pissed with that Red. Church, if you're still pissed at Tex, would you guys try to forgive each other? Church: Yeah right! That bitch isn't the type of girl to say 'sorry' to anyone, even me! Kaikaina: Plus she's a Red. Tucker: And your brother? Kaikaina: Wha? I won't kill him. Weiss: But he's a Red. Caboose: Psst! Church?

Church hears Caboose's voice as everyone else were busy talking to each other. He turns to see the private peeking behind the door. Wonder why he isn't coming inside, no matter at least he may have some update on the Red's construction. He leaves the room and hears what Caboose has got to say.

Church: What's the update on the Reds? Caboose: Oh it's fine, but it's just... let's not let Weiss see it. Church: Why? Caboose: Well the thing is... do you know those times when teenagers drew something about their teacher just to mock them? Church: Yeah kids have become total assholes these days. Wait what does this got to do with the sign... Caboose:... Church: ...You're not saying what I think you're saying? Caboose: Weiss won't like it! She'll cry if she sees it! Church: Why would she cry... look wait here and give me back my sniper rifle. I'm going to take a look at it myself.

Church leaves Caboose and heads straight to the roof. With him gone, it's time for our beloved Caboose to check on Weiss.

Caboose: Hi, Weiss! Weiss: Hey, Michael. Where's Church? Caboose: Oh he just needed to take a potty. A potty! Hehehe. Weiss: At least he should tell before he left... so you're saying you won't kill your brother? Kaikaina: Duh we're family! If Mom finds out I shot him, I'd be in serious trouble. Tucker: How is she gonna find out? It's not like she's can hear her son's scream light years away, that's physically impossible. Kaikaina: Actually she can. Tucker: Wait she can- Caboose, you okay buddy? Caboose: What? Tucker: Dude, you're staring at the ceiling. Is there something wrong? Caboose: Nothing! Nothing involving the Reds and Weiss won't have to be devastated. Church from the roof: Pfft-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Caboose: Uh oh. Kaikaina: Holy shit! What is that?! Tucker: Giant hyenas? Weiss: As if! Get out, I need to change immediately!

On the Blue Base's roof

The Blues arrived to the scene to see Church collapsed on the floor. He is laughing uncontrollably like a madman from an asylum, why is he laughing? This put a lot of confusion to the Blues, except Caboose who knows what Church has seen at the Red Base.

Weiss: Church, what are you laughing at? Church: Oh Schnee, you're here. Hehehe... nothing to worry about, there's totally nothing to see... pfft! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HOHOHOHAHAAAAA!!! Tucker: Is Church alright? Caboose: Oh yes, he's alright! He's... uh... infected with laughing disease. Very contagious but not lethal. Tucker: Laughing disease? I've never heard of it before. Caboose: That's cause you're dumb!

Weiss, curious to see what's on the enemy base, take out her binos and see this signboard. To her disgust, the first thing she sees through the binos was a familiar red colored rifle and brunette hair look straight at her. Ruby is looking back at her. She lowers her gun to reveal her angry expression before pointing at something out of the bino's vision. Weiss zooms out and finally sees the 'so-called' signboard and something drawn on it. The first sight of it widened her eyes. It was a drawing her except... it doesn't match her beautiful petite physique. The drawing of her is an ugly round doodle with the writing, 'BIG FAT MEANIE' next atop. As if she really looks like that! Then there's another drawing of three stickmen with stink-lines above them, still being drawn by Donut, with the title friends is added above them. This must be represent Ruby, and her two other teammates. Oh my she's gone too far.

Caboose: Oh no. Weiss seen it. Tucker: Seen what? Church: Hahaha! Take a look.

Tucker looks through the sniper's scope and starts to instantly laughing upon seeing the signboard.

Tucker: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Big fat meanie! HAHAHAHAHA, that's priceless! Kaikaina: Big fat meanie? Let me see.

Kaikaina gets the same results.

Kaikaina: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Tucker: I know right? HAHAHAHA! Caboose: Uhm, guys? Weiss is still here. Church: HAHAHA- Son of a bitch. Tucker: HA- Oh fuck me. Kaikaina: HAHA- Whoops.

Weiss was standing still. She may have heard the commotion behind. The first thing that came in the Blues' head is Weiss screaming at them like the banshee she is till their ears popped and bleed. However to their relief she still keeps her composure.

Caboose: Weiss? Are you okay? Weiss: Get the rocket launcher. Caboose: Okay. Church: Hold on, what are you doing? Weiss: Giving her an example not to mess with me.

At the Red Base

Grif: Will you hurry up? This isn't Ancient Renaissance! Donut: Patience. Art need to be clean and refine, so you can't rush it. Grif: I doubt that's art. Sarge: This ought to give that psychological attack to that Blue. Once she sees this, the guilt will force into her and break her from the inside. Ruby: Thanks, Sarge. You didn't have to do this for me. Sarge: Ah don't mention it. And besides, what that Blue did is UNACCEPTABLE! Hehehe, I wonder what kind of reaction that Blue's going to get when she see this. Simmons: Sir. I think you take a look a this. Sarge: Looks like she's pissed off already.

Ruby and Sarge approached Simmons who had been looking at the Blue base. Simmons hand the rifle to Sarge and the rough Sargeant looks through the scope to see the results of the deserter. To his disappointment, Weiss hasn't gone barmy and it looks like she just fired a rocket... A ROCKET?!

Sarge: CRAZY COWBOY ON A NUCLEAR BOMB, GET DOWN!!!

Everybody ducked following a loud WHOOSH passing them by. That was close! Had that rocket hit the concrete, it would've cause a lot of dama- never mind. The drawing, which Donut had worked so much on, is now a large ripped hole!

Donut: NOOOOOOO!!! I haven't painted it yet! Ruby: GGRRRR... WEISSSS!!! Sarge: Dagnabbit, you destructive vandals! You may have spared the signboard but you should never have taken out the drawing!

Back at the Blue Base

That shot put a smile on Weiss. Sure the rocket didn't exploded as predicted, but at least the rocket got rid of the tarp.

Weiss: That's what you get, Rose. Okay so who's up for breakfast? Everyone but Church: Me!

Caboose, Tucker and Kaikaina rush down the stairs, leaving Weiss and Church alone on the roof.

Weiss: Did I just provoked the Reds and caused another attack? Church: Kind of, though I doubt most of them have the mood to attack today. Heh, you know you sure kinda remind me of Tex. Weiss: Who? Church: My girlfriend. The way you acted and talked is somewhat like her, except she more of a crazy bitch than you. Weiss: Girlfriend huh? I don't hear you talking to anyone through the lines. Church: That's cause she's dead. Weiss: Oh... I'm... sorry. I didn't mean to. Church: Nah it's alright. We broke up a long time ago. Sigh, I still miss our arguments. But enough of that, let's get some grub. So you can cook? Weiss: A bit. My butler back home taught me a thing or two about making steak. If you got the meat of course. Church: Well hate to break it you, but we only have canned food. Wait you're rich?! Weiss: Yeah but not the life you'd expect.

A/N: That's the end of this story arc, now that you know why Ruby and Weiss now hate each other. Sorry it couldn't be longer.

#Red vs Blue #rwby #monty oum #Rooster Teeth #weiss schnee #ruby rose #michael j caboose #leonard l church #franklin delano donut

[imaginepirates]

The Estuary

Singapore

           Singapore. 

           It stank, grime covered every conceivable surface, and people either didn't know English or pretended not to speak it. James didn't know exactly how he convinced Beckett to send him there in the first place, but the deed was done. He just needed to find Elizabeth, to make sure she was safe. 

           Never had he witnessed such awful living. People lived in mud, and they drank out of polluted rivers. It made James sick to his stomach. He didn't like to think of the diseases being spread about. Officers had already fallen ill. 

           Patrols were mind-numbingly dull. James likely hadn't been so bored before in his life. The apprehension, too, was killing him. He wanted to find Elizabeth, to follow her, and to fix things. 

           There was more, too. It was rumored that a famous pirate made his home in the city, but British Intelligence couldn't quite find him. Every lead they had ended with nothing. Not the slightest hint. 

           James was suspicious. Elizabeth wasn't in Singapore for no reason. She was there for something, and James had a sinking feeling it had to do with the pirate. 

           What do you get yourself into? I hardly know you anymore. It wasn't so long ago that we danced together in ballrooms, albeit stiffly. What are you up to now?

           A stubble was growing along his jaw. He shaved it, and was surprised that his hands still knew the movements. Some things we never forget. He washed his face in a washbasin, and for a moment, he was reminded of the estuary. 

           He'd wandered back along the river, feet squelching in the mossy banks. He'd stumbled upon a time just after his promotion to Admiral. What an awful thing that had been. What an awful person I've been. 

           The waters had converged over his head, and once again, he lived. He hadn't expected so many chances. How many people are reliving their lives right now, just as I am? He didn't like that thought. The people he loved could have been dead without his knowledge, trying to fix their mistakes like he was now. 

           The washbasin empty, James stared at his reflection in the mirror. Who am I? He felt… fake. Being alive again felt like cheating, in a way. 

            "Admiral!" A voice called out to him from the hall. He was staying in a sparsely furnished fort, and Lieutenant Groves was staying in the room across from him. It was that same man who called out to him. 

           He cracked his door open. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

           "We need you to lead another patrol. I'm told it's important. We've found something to do with the pirate, sir, I'm sure of it."

           How many times have you said that this week? "One can only hope." He might have added 'piracy is unforgivable and we should hope to see it eradicated', but he didn't buy his old beliefs anymore. 

           British Intelligence had employed a number of natives to help them locate suspicious people. The method had seen some success, but perhaps not as much as anticipated. 

           Another prominent member was Beckett's hound, Mercer. When James had first seen him, he'd been scared that Mercer would kill him again. He couldn't forget the cold metal sinking into his abdomen. 

           James' patrol was to be guided by a local. A dragon tattoo ran down his back, covering a large stretch of skin. He was sweaty and nervous looking, which didn't reassure James in the slightest. Then again, he thought, who isn't?

           Bridges creaked underfoot. The water below was sludge, and the air was filled with smog. Buildings looked unstable, sound was warped, and people skittered out of the way of the patrol. Singapore felt infected. Diseased. James almost wished he hadn't come. 

           The establishment was some sort of bathhouse. The lieutenant James had with him, who was not Groves, scoffed. 

           "Pirates wouldn't hide in a bathhouse. This is a place for girls, for heaven's sake."

           Exactly why they would be here. James had the feeling his partner wasn't exactly the cultured type. "A bathhouse isn't just for women, lieutenant. The women here will be workers, not customers." 

           For being fairly young, James had worked in quite a few different places. A few months along the Ivory Coast, over a year in India, and his time in the Caribbean had given him a broader worldview. I need to remember that not all men have seen such places. This is likely the lieutenant's first time outside of England. 

           The boy leading the group hardly spoke English. He motioned for the officers to stay in place. James was opposed to it, but let the boy do as he would. 

           He came back a quarter of an hour later. "Bad man here. I go back in."

           What about 'we're going to blast this place to smithereens' do you not understand? "Don't go back in," said James. He was too late. The boy had slipped away again. 

           The navy got straight to the point. There was no backstabbing, no careful plotting or elaborate assassinations. In the navy, your job was to utterly destroy things. It got things done much quicker. 

           When they did blow the doors off the building, they were met with a room of fully armed people. James internally cursed. There was no trusting the natives, even if Intelligence employed them. Then, he noticed there was a sword at the boy's throat. So he didn't tip them off. How kind. I wonder who did. 

           There was a moment's silence. The bathhouse held a strange mix of people, and James could have sworn he recognized some of them. 

           Someone stood in what appeared to be a large bucket of water. He was attached to a pole. James hadn't the time to wonder why before he realised who it was. 

           William Turner, what are you doing here?

           A shock of blonde hair next to Will caught his attention. Damn. 

                                 ~~~~~

           He practically had to drag Elizabeth out of the fray. She scrabbled against him, but to no avail. He had her outside the building and away from danger before she could find a way to escape. 

           "What are you doing?" She hissed. He had let her go, and she stepped back from him, tearing herself away. 

           "Getting you out of danger."

           "I can handle myself. I don't need your help." She spat the words at him like poison, and like poison, he absorbed them. 

           I know that. I've seen the things you can do. I think, at this point, you're more capable than I am. "I won't keep you after the fight is over."

           "Why do you think you have the right?" 

           He swallowed. "Because I care about you." 

          She only stared at him, eyes still narrow, but she didn't leave. Her posture looked a touch more relaxed. James was relieved; he wasn't sure how much berating he could take. Her tongue-lashing on the Dutchman had been enough for multiple lifetimes. 

           "Your father will be happy to know that you're alive."

           "Don't think you can take me back."

           "I don't." His answer was quick- too quick. He leaned closer to her. "I'm not here to tame you, Elizabeth. I'm here to help you."

           "Attacking me with a group of soldiers is hardly helping me."

           "I didn't know you were there. If I had…"

           An explosive noise sounded nearby. Instinctively, James put an arm around Elizabeth, who promptly shoved it away. 

           "You can't keep me here like a child." She pushed past him. 

           He caught her arm. "Then let me come with you." Please, he added silently. 

           He didn't know what he was stopping her from doing. Obviously, she had survived the first time. 

           The fighting was everywhere, and the navy seemed to be losing. So, pirates do team up. 

           Rounding a corner, they nearly ran headlong into an old man with a scraggly beard. 

           "Where's Will?" It was the first thing out of her mouth. 

            If only she'd ever thought of me like that. 

           "Still inside."

           James trailed Elizabeth back into the bathhouse. Most of it was destroyed. Of the people left, there were merely bodies. The battle had moved on. 

           "Will?" Elizabeth stepped over fallen beams, head turning for any sign of him. 

           James spotted him before she did. He was right where they had left him, trapped under pieces of the caved-in roof.  Oh dear god. Please, for her sake… Will was gone. James had seen enough dead men to know. He had been dead. 

           When Elizabeth found him, James felt his heart breaking. A feeling that, by now, I should really be used to. She shook Will's body, trying to rouse him. He didn't deserve this. 

           "James?" She turned to him, face streaked with tears. 

           I'm sorry. He knelt beside her, cradling her against his chest. And, to his utter ruin, she stayed there. 

           They didn't rise for what felt like an eternity. They still hadn't. Elizabeth was crying into his chest, arms hanging limply at her sides. James held her tightly, like it was the end of the world. And it was, he supposed, because it was the end of her world, and that broke his heart. 

           There are moments when words are a failure. When the entirety of human speech, which is so effective and renowned, is absolutely useless. 

           It should have been me. It was me. Twice. 

           Her sobs had subsided. She lay helplessly in his arms. He didn't dare pull away, afraid of the emptiness that was sure to be on her face. 

           If this is what my survival looks like, I do not want it. I would gladly die for her again. 

           Please, he thought. His eyes were blurred with tears, still, because he was unwilling to let them fall. He was failing. This is torture. Let me start again. Please, do not make me continue on in this hell. I cannot live with her suffering. 

           End me. 

•@bonjour-frens @tesserphantom @ilikebritsandbands

#james norrington #commodore norrington #norrington #potc #pirates of the caribbean #the estuary #estuary #drabble #writing #fanfic

[fiftyshadesgrl]

He saved me/ part 10

Me and dean followed sam downstairs to where bobby was sitting at his table looking over a bunch of files.

"What have you got?" Dean spoke first.

"Well it could be something, then again it could be a whole lot of nothin." Bobby said turning the paper in front of him around to where we could look at it. "I found a list of names of demons that have been in contact with parker. Theres 16 all together. Theyre all spread out over the surrounding towns to where you were found."

With the last sentence bobby looked at me. I nodded, "doesnt surprise me. He had connections everywhere." I scanned the list of names and one stood out to me. "Patrick windsor." I whispered.

"That somebody you knew?" Bobby asked.

"Not really, i mean i met him a couple of times but i never truly knew him. Thats parkers father."

"Do we know where to find him?" Dean spoke this time, seeming anxious.

Bobby shook his head. "Nothing as of yet but im sure sam here can find out." Sam nodded and went to go get his laptop before i stopped him.

"Wait." I pulled out the folder i had been carrying. "I found this in the files upstairs."

Bobby took it from my hands, "ill be damned."

"It just stood out to me and i guess this is why." I said taking a seat across from bobby.

"Do you have files on any of the other people bobby?" Sam asked.

Bobby shrugged, "its possible."

I stood quickly and grabbed the paper with the list of names. "Ill go check."

"Ill come with you." Dean rushed to my side. I just nodded, after our talk i didnt dread deans company like i once had.

"Lets go back to the spare room and look first since thats where i found patricks file." I told dean as we made it to the top of the stairs. He just followed me to the room. I sat on the floor and smiled when dean joined me.

"Okay ive got them in alphabetical order so we should find them fairly easy." I grabbed the first pile.

"Youre amazing." I looked up in surprise when he said that. He was smiling at me with a glint in his eyes.

"What?" I whispered.

"You came here, you cleaned up all these files, put them away in alphabetical order, you also organized the books and placed them by origin and language. You cook for bobby, you take care of him. After everything you went through." Dean said in amazement.

"He took me in, took me under his wing. He is the father i never had. I love him to death." I went back to trying to find the first name in the files.

"Im sorry." I felt deans hand on my ankle.

"For what?" I looked at him puzzled.

"For everything. You were going through all that and i walked out on you. I couldve, no i shouldve explained myself but i was a coward."

"Dean, i have called you many things in my head but a coward is not one of them."

We both laughed at that. I couldnt let dean keep torturing himself. It wasnt all him. "Look it took me forever to come to terms with this but i was the coward dean. I ran away, i thought i wasnt good enough for you. That you had went out to find what you wanted and that just wasnt me. Parker always told me no man will ever want me that i would disgust any man out there but him. So when you walked out that night i knew it was true. But now i know better. I understand what youre trying to say and how you feel. Theres nothing to forgive dean, i mean it."

"Then why do i feel like shit?" He said scooting closer to me.

"Because you havent forgave yourself."

He sighed and just shook his head. "I dont think that will ever happen."

I nudged his shoulder, "come on, suck it up buttercup we gotta find these files before sam finds them on his internet first."

He chuckled, "youre competeing with sam?"

"Hell yeah, the internet cant beat my methods here." I grabbed another stack of files and handed them to dean. "So get to work winchester."

"Yes ma'am."

Two hours later we had found all the names but one. "Well," dean said standing and stretching "is there anywhere else the file could be?"

I nodded, "yeah in my room. Ive done got all those in the file cabinets so itll be easier to look through."

He followed me down the hall to my room but didnt walk in. "You can come in ya know."

He just looked at his feet, "are you sure? I mean this is your bedroom and..."

"Dean. Im not going to molest you. Get in here and help me look for this last file." I said pulling him by the shirt into the room. Instead of turning like i probably should have i stood facing him. His hands went to my hips as mine fisted in his shirt.

I inhaled his scent and that feeling of comfort and security enveloped me like it did before. I leaned into his chest, resting my cheek against right over where his heart was. It was beating so fast about as fast as mine. His arms wrapped around me and i felt his lips and nose bury in my hair next to my neck.

I tried to get closer to him but i was as close as i could get. I wanted to climb inside his chest and stay there forever. It was like a dam inside me burst, the tears fell freely and a choked sob escaped my lips.

"Dont cry sweetheart." Dean whispered against my neck.

I fisted his shirt more and sobbed. "I cant help it. God ive missed you." My hands roamed over his chest then wrapped around his neck. He held me until the tears had stopped.

"Ive missed you so much. You have no idea." Dean said rubbing my back. He started kissing my neck and jawline. I kissed his shoulder and collarbone through his shirt.

I pulled back away from him, both of us panting as he brushed his lips up against mine. The tears started flowing again as our lips crushed together. His hand tangled in my hair and pulled me closer to deepen the kiss.

I could feel how hard he was through his jeans. I needed him, forget everything that happened and just have him. Have my security again. My safe zone, but i realized where we were. I pushed against his chest, "dean, stop. We cant do this here."

He kept placing small kisses on my lips. "Why not?"

I pulled back, "bobby is like a father to me and to you. We cant do this in his house."

He grunted something under his breath. Then with that lustful look i love so much he looked up at me. "Okay, lets go for a drive somewhere. I dont care where, i just gotta have you."

"Dont you think theyll be suspicious?"

"I dont care." He growled.

I smiled at him and nodded. "Okay but let me get these files to bobby. Sam can find the last name im sure."

He smiled that panty dropping smile that made me weak in the knees. "Ill be waiting in the car." He gave me a quick heated kiss and with that he walked out the door and down the stairs. I glanced at the last name on the list and figured id make dean wait for a minute. I dug through the files in the one cabinet and just like i said, easy to find.

I changed out of my night shirt into some shorts and a tank top, then grabbed the files and made my way down stairs.

"Here ya go bobby." I huffed, dropping the files on the table in front of him. "You had files on every one of them."

He smiled and grabbed the first one, "what would i do without you kiddo?"

I walked around and kissed his cheek. "Probably fill up on tv dinners and drink way to much." I smiled down at him, "me and dean are going out for food. Anybody want anything?"

"Usual for me." Sam said from his chair in the corner.

I nodded and bobby waved me off, "is that what theyre calling it these days?" He said looking up at me.

I furrowed my brows, "what are you talking about?"

He glared at me, "i may be old but im not stupid. Just be careful, alright."

I nodded with a slight blush on my cheeks and headed for the door. Dean was sitting in the drivers seat tapping his thumb on the steering wheel. I opened the door and climbed in, i scooted all the way over to him. He smiled at me as he started the car and peeled out of the driveway.

@an-unhealthy-obsession

#dean winchester #dean x reader #deanwinchester #supernatural #deanwinchestersmut #dean x you #deanwinchtser

[themadlostgirl]

Not Dead Yet (Part 74)

*Pet by A Perfect Circle is eerily befitting to this fic me thinks*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warning: language

Since the curse was broken things were pretty chaotic. Regina regained her powers, I learned that Rumplestiltskin has a beautiful girlfriend, Ruby is a werewolf and got accused of murder, Emma and Mary Margaret finally got back from the Enchanted Forest, and Archie was believed dead.

All the while that chaos was going on I was basically glued to Henry’s side. I had to be. Not that it was easy. That kid gets around a lot and keeping tabs on him got harder and harder. When I wasn’t following Henry around I was reporting back to Regina. She didn’t have a lot of friends and as the only person that could take on Rumple I wasn’t letting her go as an ally.

Speaking of the Dark One I was keeping as far from him as possible. He’s the only one here that knows who I am. If he blows the whistle on who I am then all the progress I’ve made will be erased. He’ll most likely kill me too so there was that problem as well

With everything that had happened I didn’t think living in this hellhole could get any stranger or more annoying. That was until the night a stranger drove into town, as well as a familiar face. One Captain Killian Jones scraped and bruised and lying in a hospital bed. If he was here then he could come in handy. I needed more information.

After he was stabilized and Emma did her little interrogation I snuck into the room.

“Heard an old seadog got hit by a car.”

“Oh joy…” Hook groaned. He opened his eyes and saw me standing at the end of his hospital bed. “I thought I had seen the last of you near thirty years ago.”

“You’re glad to see me, Hook. Admit it.”

“Maybe I would if I didn’t know you.”

“Such harsh words, Killian, harsh words. Still preferable to listening to you hit on Emma. Other attachments? Really? You’re gross.” I rifled through his personal effects until I found his flask. I took a nip but was saddened to realize it was empty. “Come on. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a good bottle of rum when the drinking age is twenty one and you look like you’re in your late teens?”

“If only they knew.”

“If only.” I tossed the flask aside and started searching through his other things.

“No go ahead, what’s mine is yours.”

“Of course it is.” I pulled out his coat, “I’ve always wanted to try this on.”

“That’s enough, love.” he lifted his chained hand to try and stop me.

“Problem?” I smirked as I set down the coat.

“When I am free of these chains--”

“You’ll what? Hunt me down? Kill me? Is that really in your best interests?”

“Tell me he’s not here as well.”

“He isn’t. Good for you, huh?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” he growled.

“Come now, Killian. We’ve known each other a long time. What do you think I want?”

“You need a way back to Neverland.”

“I need an ally. Someone who knows the real me. Someone I can trust.”

“Trust?” he laughed, “After everything you and that demon of yours did to me, you think I’ll help you?”

“I think that if you were to return Peter’s long lost Lost Girl he’d be inclined to grant you anything you desire. No strings attached.”

“Not interested.”

“What other options do you have? Outside of the Dark One no one here knows who I really am. They trust me. I can help you if you help me.”

“Still not interested.”

“For now.” I took the paperclip from his medical papers and handed it to him, “Should help with the cuffs. I’ll be seeing you.”

I started to walk out of the hospital when I collided into someone. “Sorry,” I looked up and my blood ran cold. Rumplestiltskin.

“Best to look in front of you when you walk, dearie.” his gaze slid over me before stepping around me and walking into the hospital himself.

I let out a breath of relief. He didn’t recognize me. Thank the gods. If the Dark One doesn’t remember me then I have no enemies in this town outside of Hook. I don’t need to keep worrying that I’m gonna get murdered.

Satisfied I walked deep into the forest. I’d been keeping a cozy little camp of my own in these woods since the curse broke. It was the closest thing resembling home I had here.

I wish I could go home. I’ve tried a couple times to call the shadow but it never showed. I don’t know if it is the barrier around the town or what but it wasn’t coming to my rescue. The only way I can get out of here now is a portal and given that a bunch of our problems in this town are that we can’t leave it means that option is out.

I don’t know what I should do. The shadow can’t hear me, there are no magic beans, and if I tried to leave the town I would forget who I really am. The day grew later and soon the stars dotted the sky.

I had chosen this particular spot in the woods for a few reasons. It was far from civilization and easily hidden. There were natural cover points for if I ever was attacked. Most importantly, when the night sky rolled by, I could see Neverland. The second star to the right glowed above my forest bed inviting me home before it moved on and was hidden by the foliage again.

Now that I could remember everyone I was missing home more and more. The twenty eight years I had been trapped here were still stuck in my head but it had also made it feel like no real time had passed at all. I think it has to do with living on an island that never ages for hundreds of years that it didn’t affect me too much. But now I was awake and I was aging and I could feel every second of my life ticking away. Every moment I was here was another moment I could have been home with Devin and Wendy and Tigerlily and Felix and everyone else. Every morning when I woke up cold and alone was a stab to my heart because I knew that I should be wrapped in Peter’s arms warm and safe and happy. But instead I was here. Playing a game of long term deceptions in a hope to keep myself alive and bring Henry back so that he can save Peter.

I looked at the stars. The one that led to Neverland and didn’t try to stop the tears that leaked from my eyes. “I believe…”

I waited for something. Anything. Then I felt it. A buzz in the air. Magic. Dark magic.

“Peter?” I looked for a shift in the shadows.

“Not exactly, Lost Girl.”

“Damn,” The fire sparked to life to reveal Rumplestiltskin on the other side of the flames, “I see now it was naive to think you didn’t remember me.”

“How could I not remember you? You escaped my dungeons.” he looked around at my camp, “You know, this realm has a wonderful thing called indoor plumbing and central heating you could be taking advantage of instead of roughing it out here in the dark and cold.”

“I like it out here. It’s what I’m used to.” I reached for my club feeling more in control with a weapon in my grasp, “What brings you out here? Something tells me you didn’t come to chew the fat with one of your former torture victims.”

“And you’d be right for the most part. How’d you end up here? I thought you had absconded back to Neverland.”

“I did. Unfortunately I traveled back to the Enchanted Forest looking for something and got caught up in this nightmare. I’m aging again, I’m surrounded by goody-two-shoes all the time, and I have no way to get back home. So I’m a little agitated and if you don’t want me to break your face in, Rumple, I’d get to the point of this chit chat.”

“You think you could land a hit on me?” he scoffed.

“I’d really like to try.” I gripped my club tighter.

“Such ferocity. I think we could have been good allies in another life.”

“Oh we could have been I’m sure. But things are not like that. So again, what are you doing here? Come to kill me? Torture me? I’m Henry’s babysitter, if I go missing I think there are a good number of heroes that are going to notice.”

“I know. You’re too close to the Charming’s to be offed without notice. That’s why we’re going with a less bloody method.”

Before I could react I was no longer at my camp but at the town line. My club was in Rumple’s hands. “I believe you know what happens if someone tries to leave town, do you not?”

I looked behind me at the bright orange line marking the town border. “Rumplestiltskin, don’t you dare.”

“How horrible it was to find Henry’s trusted babysitter wandering lost and alone without her memories. She must have accidentally crossed the town line while hiking through the woods.”

“No one will believe that.”

“Why wouldn’t they? They know you live up here. It would be very easy to believe you walked across an unmarked border, dearie. Unfortunate, but very believable.”

“No…” I looked for a way to escape. “Don’t do this. I’m not going back to that life.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.” he pointed my club at me, “Now let’s get this over with.”

“We can make a deal. You said that we could have been allies in a past life. Why not this one? New realm, new time, new rules.”

“Until you get what you want and stab me in the back. You really think I’m so stupid as to believe the word of a Lost One favored and trained by Pan? You’re a good liar, one of the best I’ve seen, but not good enough to convince me otherwise.”

“No!” I charged him but was blown back. I flew backwards through the air, that orange line coming closer and--

~~~

“Don’t fret precious I’m here”

What was going on? What’s that voice?

I opened my eyes and looked at where I was. I was on the side of the road. My body ached and I could tell instantly that my hands and knees were scraped into a bloody mess. What the heck happened?

“Lay your head down child. I won't let the boogeyman come. Counting bodies like sheep. To the rhythm of the war drums.”

My phone? I picked it up and saw that someone was trying to call me. I didn’t recognize the song playing. When did I change it?

“Hello?” I answered. My head is so fuzzy.

“Y/N, where are you? I need you to watch Henry.” I recognized it as David’s voice.

“What?” I tried to shake the buzzing from my head but it only succeeded in making it worse. “I’m by the town line. I don’t know how I ended up here.”

“The town line…” David got quiet. “Don’t move. I’ll be right there.”

I sat up with a groan as I inspected my injuries closer. My hands were scraped really badly, my knees were too but my jeans seemed to help minimize the damage. I touched my face and winced. I tried to see my face in the reflection of my phone. It was cut too.

A few minutes later a car pulled up to where I was and David and and another woman stepped out. “Y/N! Are you alright?”

“I think so…” David helped me up. “I just really wanna go home now. Mom and dad must be worried about me.”

The two of them shared a look. “What?”

“What do you think your names is?” the woman asked.

“What is this a concussion test?”

“Answer the question.” she demanded.

“Marigold. My name is Marigold. I live in Storybrooke. My parents’ names are Kevin and Linda Barrie. Can I go home now? I need a hot shower and some disinfectant.”

~~~

“It’s an incredible likeness.” Peter paused his sketching and looked over his shoulder.

“What do you want, Wendy bird?” He sighed.

“I didn’t know you could draw.” She sat down next to him and looked closer to the drawing in his lap, “May I?”

He slid the paper to her. “I assume I don’t need to tell you that if you mention this to anyone--”

“I won’t.” Wendy smiled at the drawing. It was a mirror likeness of Y/N. “It’s not the same without her around, isn’t it?”

“Certainly less aggravating.” he snatched the drawing back and slipped it into his pocket. “Was there a point to this conversation?”

“You do know it’s alright to miss her.”

Peter didn’t answer.

“She’s safe.” Wendy squeezed his shoulder, “I know she is. She’ll be home soon.”

Peter got up and left but not before whispering one thing that barely reached Wendy’s ears. “I hope you’re right.”

(First) (Previous) (Next)

#slowburn #ouat peter pan #peter pan ouat #ouat #neverland #peter pan imagine #peter pan x reader

[panda-noosh]

Omg I just thought!!!!! Angst with Sokka where him and reader are captured and about to be executed by fire Lord azula, and in order to protect her he pretends they're not together or that he doesn't love her. He forces the reader to deny she's with the avatar to ensure she escapes to tell the others what happened.... What happens to Sokka is up to you but my heart is already breaking panda 😭😭

    “Well, your plan is failing so far, isn’t it? I don’t even know who that is.”

   He was doing it. He had told you beforehand that this was the plan, but you had never truly believed he would genuinely follow through. Hearing him say those words with such emotion, such vigour had your stomach reeling, the urge to yell and kick and scream in your own defence suddenly bubbling to the surface.

    You shoved it down, continuing to pretend like you had absolutely no idea why you were here in the first place. Chains were wrapped tightly around your wrists, heating up with every movement you made to defy them. It got to the point where you just slumped down against the wall, looking up at Azula and Sokka through heavy-lidded eyes.

    Azula raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, her lips quirking at the corner as she turned to look at you. Sokka was still huddled in the opposite corner, and upon Azula looking away from him, his eyes shot to your own. You met them, quickly looked away when Azula stepped in your direction.

    “Is that right? Have my people made a little mistake?” she asked. “Tell me, stranger - are you not with the Avatar?”

    “The Avatar left us all,” you replied. The lie was easy. “Nobody has seen him in decades.”

    Azula pursed her lips, slowly straightening up. She kept her dark eyes trained on you, though, as if calculating your next move - you were far too weak to try anything at the minute. Anybody with common sense would be able to judge that from the sizzling skin of your wrists and the black eyes you were currently sporting.

    Azula sighed and clicked her fingers absently. Immediately multiple guards were rushing forward, snatching your arms and dragging you to your feet. You stumbled in their grip, quickly caught yourself because you would be damned if you were to be dragged out of here without getting a glimpse of Sokka first.

    This was how things were meant to go. Sokka had a plan, and you had to keep reminding yourself of that very fact; he knew what he was doing. He would come back to you eventually.

    “Take them away,” Azula ordered. “They’re useless anyway.”

    You wanted to scream out for Sokka as the guards dragged you out of the palace and into the cold. The doors slammed closed, blocking his face for good; the last sight you had managed to snatch of him was Azula teasing a fireball against the ends of his hair, him curling up in a ball in any attempt to get away from the torture that was no doubt about to befall him.

    +++

   You weren’t sure how long you ran for. By the time you came to a halt, you couldn’t feel anything. The cold had chased the feelings of pain away, leaving you trembling as your knees gave out beneath you and you fell into the brambles around you.

    But then Aang was there. Aang, Appa, Momo, Katara, even Toph. They were surrounding you, forming a tight circle around your shivering figure. Katara’s hands were on your face, tilting your head up and down in her attempts to see just what kind of damage she was dealing with.

    You flinched away from her fingers and looked away. “We have to get Sokka.”

    “He’s still out there?” It was Aang. He was still young, yet to learn how to hide the surprise in his voice.

   Katara sent him a glare and turned back to you. Despite her trying to remain calm, it was clear that the news of her brothers continued abduction was chilling her to the bone. “How did you escape?”

    “He pretended he didn’t know me,” you replied, choking back a sob at the memory. “He made me say I didn’t know where Aang was and they deemed me useless and let me go. But Sokka - he can’t pretend. They’ve seen him with the Avatar on multiple occasions. Unless he can find his own way out-”

    “He won’t need to,” Toph announced. “We’ll go and get him. Y/N, you stay here with Appa and Momo-”

    “If you lot are going, then so am I!”

   “If Azula sees you with Aang and realises you lied to her, she’ll kill you on the spot,” said Katara, already shouldering her travellers bag and tucking her hair back into it’s loops. “And besides, you’ll only slow us down with the state you’re in.”

   You bit your lip, trying to force down the protestations that were stemming purely from the feeling of love you held for Sokka. You knew they were right, of course. You could barely stand upright, let along trek through the Fire Nation in search of your boyfriend, fighting off guards on the way. You would be more useful at camp, getting things prepared for whenever Sokka did return home.

    Because he would, and as you watched the group flee through the forest, you told yourself that on a loop: he would return home. He would come back to you. He would be fine.

    +++

    Sokka couldn’t see through his left eye, which was the first sign that he was injured pretty bad.

    He wasn’t really sure what to do about it, though. How did Toph live like this, only with two eyes? Sokka was being driven insane just from being unable to see the left side of him. He half expected Momo to come soaring through the sky and kick him in the side of the head purely because he wouldn’t be able to see him coming.

    Sokka hollowed out his cheeks, letting his head fall back against the concrete wall of the cell he had been thrown into. Trying to keep himself entertained was a difficult job considering he felt nothing; it was easy enough telling jokes, but was it really worth it whenever your body was numb from both emotional and physical feeling? His wrists were charred to almost nothing, his head thumping, his left eye swollen closed. He was fairly certain his lip had been busted open, though he couldn’t quite pinpoint how that injury had appeared - he didn’t remember anyone hitting him in the mouth, but he was in no fit state to question it. And quite frankly, he didn’t have the temperament to ask.

    The only question he desperately wanted to ask was if you had gotten out.

   It was lodged in his throat, being forcefully pulled to the surface every single time a guard came to check on him; he needed to know. It was driving him mad. The last glimpse he had gotten of you was only seconds before the double doors of the throne room had closed, blocking you off from the world entirely. He didn’t know if they had killed you, if they had truly let you go, if you had somehow found your way back to Aang and the others - god he hoped you had. To sit and pretend that he didn’t love you would only be worth it if you somehow managed to get yourself to safety.

    It didn’t even need to be Aang and the others. It could have been a tiny village off the coast, could have been a nice set of travellers who were willing to take you in. Sokka would rot in this cell, Aang and his family unknowing to his whereabouts, and he would do it willingly if it meant you had gotten someplace safe.

   Although, he had to admit, he would prefer to have Aang and the others come to his rescue.

    He was snapped out of his daze by the rattling of the cell bars.

    His head snapped up, his single eye searching for the face in the dark. It was probably another one of the guards, maybe the freaky one who had done a backflip upon initially meeting Sokka. Or worse - the monotone one.

     But Sokka’s entire being was swept up in excitement when his eyes met the familiar pair of ice blue ones that mimicked his own almost perfectly; it was a family trait, though Sokka insisted that his were a little bit more appealing than his sisters.

    “Katara!” he exclaimed before he could think better of it; it probably wasn’t the best thing to start yelling when there were guards a few feet down the hallway.

     Katara shushed him in that way she always did. “Can you stand?”

    “I can try.”

   “Well be quick about it. I don’t know how long Toph and Aang are gonna be able to hold the guards off.”

   Sokka struggled to his feet. His knees were bruised from being tossed around like a ragdoll, and his head pounded. He had to lean against the wall for a few seconds until a wave of dizziness passed, but even as the pain engulfed his body, there was only one question on his mind and lips.

    “Did Y/N get back to you?”

    Katara froze, fingers curling around the bars. Her expression turned dark, and Sokka felt his dinner rising in his throat, because the expression was not a good one. You hadn’t gotten home. They hadn’t seen you and all of Sokka’s torture and method acting had been entirely for nothing.

    He shook his head before Katara had even replied. “No. Please tell me-”

   “They’re back at camp,” Katara replied.

    Sokka pursed his lips, closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. “Don’t scare me like that. Ever.”

     Katara nodded. “I’m sorry. It’s just - They weren’t in good shape. They could barely stand when we-”

    Sokka B-Lined towards the cell door. “Get me out of here. I need to get back to them.”

    +++

    Apparently you had fallen asleep.

    You hadn’t meant to, of course. For most of your life, you had been unable to sleep under the influence of stress, no matter how hard you tried. You would stay conscious, twisting and turning in the covers as you overthought every little detail about the day; that was just how things had always been.

    But it seemed that, under the influence of true pain, you were able to fall asleep as quick as a light switch being flicked off. Part of you was grateful for it, though when you woke up, the panic that gripped you was almost enough to chase that relief away.

    You shot bolt upright, gripping for the leaves around you. It was dark now, the only light coming from the dimming fire that Momo and Appa were huddled around, fast asleep. Neither of them shifted when you awoke, which you were grateful for - you didn’t want to explain your distress. Not right now.

    You looked around and very nearly let out a sob. Sokka wasn’t back yet. None of them were. The camp sight was desolate bar the single sleeping bag set up in the far corner and a few flasks that Katara had left out before fleeing to go and find her brother - but there was no sign of them.

    You curled your knees towards your chest and groaned. You should have went with them. Even with the throbbing headache still clawing at your system and the dizziness you were experiencing even upon being seated, you knew you should have gone with them. You had been in that temple, could tell them where to go and who specifically to look out for. Aang and Katara would have no idea, and Toph couldn’t even see to be able to direct them. You could imagine them now, wandering aimlessly through the Fire Nation temples whilst Sokka was being tortured and bruised and humiliated for-

    “Oh god, Y/N!”

   Your eyes snapped open. You hadn’t even fully processed the form of Sokka emerging through the tree line before you were throwing yourself forward and into his arms, as if you were drawn to him, a magnet to metal.

    His arms fit perfectly around your waist, bundling you against his scarred and sweat covered chest that was peeking a little bit more than usual through the top of his Water Tribe robes. The sweat was mingled with dried blood, but you couldn’t find it in you to care, because he was standing in front of you, alive and talking.

    “You’re okay,” you whispered into his neck, a mantra on repeat. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

    “I’m okay,” Sokka whispered back, running his trembling fingers through your knotted hair with a struggle. “They barely touched me.”

   “How can you say that?” you hissed, jerking away and gripping his chin. He gritted his teeth against your probing, but nonetheless, the feel of your fingertips against his skin seemed to relax him as he leaned into your touch, shoulders slumping forward. “Sokka, you need some rest.”

    “That’s what we’ve been telling him the entire way back,” Toph said casually. “The little shit thought it was better to give us an hour long speech about how terrified he was that you hadn’t it made it home. Yuck!” She swiftly kicked Sokka in the back of the knees with a precision that she really should not have had.

   Sokka buckled, grunted as he fell to the floor.

    “Now sleep!” Toph demanded. “Both of you. Give me some damn peace and quiet.”

    And even though you wanted nothing more than to sit and talk to Sokka about what had happened, what he had suffered through, Toph was right - you both needed rest. Though you had just woken up, it would take days to recover from the torment you had been forced to deal with back at the Fire Nation. 

    You gently tugged Sokka along to the sleeping bag, ignoring the hushed and concerned whispers of Aang and Katara in the background. You curled up next to him, resting your head on his chest, and said a silent thank you to whoever was listening that Sokka was okay, he was alive, and he had come home. 

#atla request #request

[marvelhead17]

Miracle (Original Female Character x Cable)

Chapter 35

Summary: “How did you fix it?” he asked. “Ask Ellen the Teenage Warhead,” Wade shrugged as he stood up, “As for baby Hitler he ended up having a diaper change, funny story I was actually going to call Cable since he was so keen on killing Russel, I thought this would be like taking candy from a baby, if that means replacing it with a bullet that is,”

Warnings to cover the whole fic: Graphic depictions of violence, use of weapons, mild to strong language, mentions of rape, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, referenced torture and psychological abuse/manipulation, nightmares and night terrors, sexual humour, sexual content.

Word count:  1.7k

​

Their loud cry echoed in the white room and Nathan felt tears fall from his eyes, he rubbed his thumb gently on Hayden’s cheek to wipe away her tears and he kissed her forehead as gently as he could.

“You did so well darlin’, she’s here now, she’s healthy, and she’s perfect,” he told her and she simply nodded still panting heavily, he encouraged her to lie back down on the bed and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, kissing her head multiple times.

His hand intertwined with hers and his thumb gently traced the backside of her hand, she leaned into his side and struggled to keep her eyes open, she lifted her head as she watched the nurse hand over a small bundle of pale yellow blanket to her.

“Would you like to hold her?” the nurse asked, Hayden nodded her head immediately but felt uncertain as she reached her hands out, Nathan spoke softly to her.

“It’s okay, you just need to support her head,” he helped her move her arms to properly hold the bundle and the nurse slowly placed it in her arms. “Look at that, you’re a mother now,” he grinned and ran his hand through her hair soothingly.

“I’m a mother,” she stared in disbelief down at the blue tinted baby that squirmed slightly in her arms, she carefully rocked her arms side to side to help calm the baby down, on instinct she held her closer to her chest so that the baby could rest against her skin and she quietened down instantly. “She’s perfect Nathan,” she whispered.

The nurse unexpectedly turned to them yelling, “WAKE UP!” followed by a loud banging sound.

                                                          * * *

  “What the fuck?” Nathan muttered as his eyes opened wide to reveal Hayden’s room.

“C’MON CABLE WAKE UP MAN, IT’S NO GOOD TO MOURN IN HER ROOM,” Wade yelled incessantly banging his fist on the door.

“Ugh, WADE, piss off will you?” Hayden yelled as she sat up from next to him.

The door swung opened and practically broke off its hinges to reveal Wade standing with wide eyes and a gawking mouth.

“YOU’RE ALIVE, OH MY GOD,” He practically jumped on top of her and hugged her tightly; she had barely managed to pull the blankets up to cover her exposed chest. He placed several kisses on her face and head, “I knew you were a tough bitch, holy fuck, you’re back,” he said relieved and sat back.

Wade then raised his brows and looked between the two of them as they sat underneath the blankets and then nodded with a smirk.

“Hey- you two finally boned, nice,”

Hayden grabbed her pillow and hit him with it, “Shut up,”

“Hey, not judging, ‘thank god you’re alive sex’ is pretty amazing,”

“What did you want Wade?” Nathan rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Well, initially I was calling you down for breakfast, but now we have to let everyone know you’re not dead, especially Hope, she’s not even talking to her Uncle Wade she’s so upset,”

“Again, you’re not her Uncle,” Nathan grunted.

“That’s not what she believes,” he smiled cheekily.

  Hayden’s eyes widened, “Oh my God- Hope,” she turned to get out of the bed when she realised that she was completely naked, and her clothing was anywhere but near enough to grab.

Nathan turned and got out of the bed himself, not caring if Wade saw him naked, a decision he instantly regretted as the merc opened his mouth.

“Hello, Daddy,” Wade remarked as he saw Nathan’s firm ass, he turned around with a snarl.

“Watch it Wilson, just because I’m naked doesn’t mean I can’t kick your damn ass,” he pointed a finger at him to emphasise the threat.

“Oh yes Daddy, I’ve been a very bad boy, you’ll definitely have to punish me,” he added as he eyed Nathan’s cock.

“Wade, shut the hell up,” Hayden hit him with the pillow again, and he turned to her with a cheeky grin on his face.

“I’ve missed you,”

“Yeah, yeah idiot,” she rolled her eyes as he hugged her again, Nathan tossed his shirt to her and he slipped his jeans on so that Wade would stop staring at him, and then kept the merc’s attention away so that Hayden could put the shirt on. “Thanks Nate,”

                                   She stood up now, the shirt being huge on her, Wade giggled and she looked at him irritably.

“What?”

“Nice breasts sis,” he winked at the shirt, the white material revealing her breasts.

“Oh fuck you,” she shoved him on the bed and gathered the rest of her clothes and changed in the bathroom, she returned fully dressed. “We’ll meet you downstairs Wade, and leave it as a surprise alright?” he nodded and left.

Hayden wrapped her arms around Nathan’s neck and pulled him in for a kiss, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, they pulled apart.

“I thought I’d never get him to leave,” she shook her head with a smile.

Nathan smiled and looked at her with half-lidded eyes, “I almost thought I was dreaming when I saw you next to me just now,”

“Well I’m here, for realsies,” she smiled and he kissed her again.

“You know, I had this, interesting, dream about you last night,”

“Yeah?”

“Well um,” he cleared his throat, “That you gave birth… to our daughter, it felt so real, I wish it was,” her eyes widened and she backed away slightly.

  “I mean, I wish it wasn’t-” he corrected himself worried now.

“No, no it’s not-” she let out a shaky breath; “I’m just surprised that you of all people would have a dream like that, and I…” she trailed off and stared at the wall.

“You… what?”

“I, I don’t even-”

“Is it something to do with the scar across your abdomen that I saw?” he asked now curious, she nodded. “You don’t have to tell me until you’re ready to,” he assured her.

“No I- I want to, other than Wade, nobody knows. It’s a- Hydra,” she bit her lower lip, he nodded, wanting her to continue speaking. “I got pregnant with that guy, Bucky, twice,” she kept her eyes focused on the wall to avoid his gaze, “The first pregnancy didn’t even reach the third month before I miscarried, and the second- the second miscarried at almost six months, so they uh,” she swallowed, “Cut it out of me,” a tear fell down her cheek. “I don’t even know what sex it was,” she looked down to the floor.

  He walked forward and cupped her face and made her look in his eyes before kissing her lips slowly and softly, when they parted he stroked her hair gently as she hugged him tightly.

“I don’t even know if I can, if I can carry a baby full-term, the last I knew-” she sniffled hard into his shoulder, “The serum had made my body toxic, but that was so long ago, Nathan-”

“Shh, it’s alright, it’s okay. I’m not expecting you to carry our children, besides there are other methods aren’t there? You guys aren’t that archaic are you? Not that I’m looking to be a dad again, I mean I’ve been mistaken as Hope’s grandfather for God’s sake, fuck-”

“It’s okay, sorry I just-” she took a deep breath, “I would never mind having children with you, hell seeing you with Hope made me really want that too, I just, I don’t want to disappoint you if I can’t- you know, get pregnant, or if I do and then-”

“I understand,” he kissed her, and then he intertwined his fingers with hers, “But that’s something to talk about another time, right now though? We need to go see Hope, she’s going to be over the moon knowing that you’re alive,” he tugged her hand gently and they went downstairs, together.

                                                          * * *

                                “HADES!” Hope screamed and ran to her, hugging her tightly.

“Hey sweetie,” Hayden squeezed her tightly and the girl cried in delight, “I’m so sorry for scaring you like that, I’m so, so sorry,” she soothed the girl’s back lovingly.

The others watched and were still processing Hayden’s presence, Nathan’s smile growing as he watched his two favourite girls hug each other so close, when they let go Hope frowned at Hayden.

“Don’t ever do that again, Momma,” she then hugged her around her neck, Hayden’s eyes widened and she tried to look up at Nathan whose heart had just turned to a puddle; he knew very well that Hope adored Hayden from the start but he hadn’t expected her to call Hayden ‘Momma’.

“M-Momma?” she stuttered and looked at the girl with large eyes.

“Yes,” she nodded, “Daddy and I liked you since the carnival and I told him you were going to be my Momma, and you are,”

“I- well I’m honoured, you’re the daughter I’ve never had,” she squeezed the girl in her arms so hard that the girl squealed and insisted on being let go. “Sorry sweetheart, sorry,” she brushed Hope’s hair back and smiled.

“It’s okay Momma,” she looked up at Nathan, “And Daddy, I don’t care what Mommy’s lawyers say I want to stay with you, with Momma and you, and Uncle Wade,” she grinned at Wade who put a hand over his chest.

  “Damn right you are, Hope,” Wade said.

“Language Wade,” Hayden gave him a look as she stood and brushed the little girl’s hair.

“But Hope, it’s dangerous here for you,” Nathan didn’t wish he was right, but he wanted to make sure his daughter was safe, even if it meant staying apart from her.

“It’s dangerous back home too,” her lips pouted and she crossed her arms.

“I told you she has the right to make her own decisions too,” Hayden looked at Nathan and he sighed.

“You two are going to be a real handful if you keep teaming up against me like this,” he grinned as he ruffled his daughter’s hair and turned to eye Hayden, she realised there was a sparkle there that had been missing when she’d first met him.

  Everything was falling into place.

________________________________________________________________

>> Chapter 36 <<

#nathan summers #cable #hayden jones #original character #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #fanfic #wade wilson #deadpool #deadpool 2 #fire fist #russell collins #piotr rasputin #colossus

[aithne]

(Illume) Tomika's Letters, 8/23 - 8/28: Odyssey

8/23/1583 Akita, setting sail

Dear Yukiko,

As we were arguing this morning, trying to decide which direction to go, a pair of men--gifted with that handsomeness I am beginning to associate with Thrykreen--approached the ship, bearing between them a wooden box as large as a man. It seemed to be a coffin of some sort. They asked permission to come aboard, which was granted, and as they came aboard they asked for "Lord Tadaki", as well as Haku and Funitsu, all of our Ruling Lords.

They set the box down on the boards of the deck and bowed deeply to Tadaki. They said they had been sent from Lord Takumi to bring us General Takashi, who they had uncovered in their midst. They said that the Demonbane thought that we might like to give him the true source and free him of the spirit. He had been transported in a state of suspended animation that we could undo whenever we pleased.

They also said that he was quite susceptible to questioning. The one who said this had a sly smirk on his face, which I took to mean that the man had been tortured for what he knew.

We thanked the Thrykreen and set about moving the box down to the bowels of the ship, where we usually keep prisoners. after a bit of discussion, Funitsu took on the seeming of the Demonbane, and we woke Takashi. On opening his eyes and seeing the person he thought of as the Demonbane, he blanched and moaned. "Ah, gods, just kill me, please. I've told you everything I know."

Patiently, Funitsu said, "Tell me again what you've said. We need to make sure you aren't contradicting yourself." He held up a pair of thumbscrews (dug up from somewhere; this is, of course, a former Scorpion ship) and turned the wheel with a loud squeaking noise. He muttered, "I must tell the guards to oil these better."

The man turned even paler than he had been, and his story spilled out of him. Interesting points he touched on were these:

1. General Takuma is getting ready to attack the Scorpion Clan headquarters. (I muttered a quick prayer to the kami to keep my adoptive clan safe; my fortunes are now linked with theirs. I am not usually a religious woman, and I found this odd after I had done it.)

2. General Kenshin is in a little village named Nagara, east of Tokyo. He is heading up a project called Odyssey, which, he said, was a project to place the spirit that resides in Arenro into a Warresh. Evidently, the three spirits quickly wear out the human bodies that contain them.

(The mind reels with implications, my Lady. Take care of your Lord, as much as you can.)

Lin, Reiko's granddaughter, is helping him with this. The village is lightly guarded with swords but heavily guarded with Crane magicians.

He knew little else. Gryphon asked if he could dose the general with the true source, and took a vial carefully in one clawed hand. He paused and stared at the vial. "Could someone open it for me? Please?"

That accomplished, the evil sprit was driven out of his body and into Tadaki's orb, and Takashi woke. Panda was fetched (she'd absented herself while the others were threatening him with torture) and she looked through her own orb at the general's true form.

It turned out that he'd been changed into a form more attractive--his original form had been shorter and stockier, with short hair. When he was asked if he'd like to be his usual self, he readily assented.

It took a few tries, but we finally figured out that Reiko could dispel the Polymorph spell on him. She employed her usual method of delivering touch spells, and the man looked startled at the tiny shaman who stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

He was looking at her very strangely, but none of us thought anything of it. It was only long after he departed that I thought that he might recognize Reiko as his lord's daughter.

We sent Takashi, along with the pair of Thrykreen who had accompanied him, back to the Phoenix Clan. After a bit of discussion, we decided that the last thing the world needs is for the Dark Son to be incarnated in a Warresh body, and so it's off to Nagara with us. We'll go north and around Aomori, and then down the eastern coast.

Six days, if the wind is with us. Perhaps four, if Haku sits in the control seat and the ship takes on his characteristics.

Panda's dog brought her a fascinating device this evening. It would be interesting to find out which one of the women on board it belongs to, but nobody is owning up to it quite yet. At least, I assume it belongs to a woman...

To bed with me. Tomorrow is another day, indeed.

Love, Tomika

 8/28/1583 eastern coast, near Nagara

The past four days have been relatively uneventful. We sailed around the northern end of the island and south, outpacing the Benevolent by a good distance (they'll catch up with us in a bit).

The only really odd thing I saw was Taura, the formerly male kitsune, standing at the rail, hands clenching it as if she were afraid she were going to fall overboard. Reiko came and led her away, back down into the hold of Shrike, petting her hair and babbling soothingly. That made me wonder--I've barely seen Taura for the past few days. Perhaps something is wrong with her? I am sure the shaman would tell us if there were.

We anchored just off the eastern coast, and began discussing ways to figure out where our enemies were and how to find them. Scrying revealed Lin in a cavern, probably beneath the town, the walls covered with protective runes.

Gryphon became excited about this, and stated that he wanted to bite Lin's fingers and toes off. Reiko said, "Ah, I need to talk to her before you do that, I think."

"Why? She made you sad! Ten toes is an extravagant number! She can lose a few!"

General Kenshin was in two places at once. His body was lying as if dead in a room that had many other runes on the walls, rules for warmth and light and postponement of decomposition. And his soul, evidently, was wandering around in a Warresh body, in a cavern that looks as if it might be near the one Lin was in.

Funitsu volunteered to go scout the town. We were scrying on him with his orb, which he left behind. Soon enough he came to the town, and saw that there were Warresh scattered around it, pretending to be boulders. They're very good at pretending to be boulders, being made out of rock and all.

In the center of town, there was a well with four Warresh around it. Funitsu looked down the well, carefully; about halfway down there was a magical shimmer. Using Air Walk, he went down to look at it, and determined that while nonliving things would pass through the shimmer (so the well was still useful), living things would be transported elsewhere.

He had found the front door into the caverns.

While he was doing this, Reiko went ashore and sat unmoving for a while. Then she began talking to something none of the rest of us could see. This not being unusual behavior for the shaman, we thought nothing of it until she came back and said, "There's a back way into those caverns. It's guarded by a Warresh. Which shouldn't be a problem for the librarian. Right?"

We rested and waited for night. When dusk fell, we and two of the Thrykreen--Jeron and one other, whose name I have not yet learned--made our way into the little village. The hole into the caverns was by the blacksmith's shop, and by his door was a boulder that wasn't a boulder. The librarian ordered it to stand aside. He asked if anyone ever used this entrance, and the Warresh told him that nobody ever did. "This is a thing that you humans would call a 'sewer'. I believe you consider them noisome."

Ugh. Just--ugh. Third in line for the Crane Throne, and I'm crawling through human offal.

Still, the temptation to surprise Lin and Kenshin was great. Greater than our natural aversion to the sewer, evidently. One by one we dropped down into the hole. Funitsu gave the hole a disdainful look and cast Air Walk again, and I convinced him to carry me down with him by the simple expedient of standing on the tops of his feet.

I think that's the closest I've been to my husband since I married him. It was most pleasant. Not quite pleasant enough to make up for the way that the cavern below smelled, though. Reiko gave Funitsu a look and muttered to herself as she waded through the muck, "Damned nobles. Too good to get his boots dirty. Useless."

We followed the flow upstream, and found ourselves eventually at a dead end, beneath what looked like it must have been a communal toileting room. Using a simple expedient of one of the door swords to go about thirteen feet upwards, we emerged in a large tiled room. All of us smelled quite strongly, and we availed ourselves briefly of some water so that approaching enemies would not be warned right away of our presence.

There were barracks attached to the toileting room, and we tiptoed through them, past a pair of sleeping guards. Reiko was leading, as it was her turn to have Detect Magic up, and when we reached a three-way intersection, she pointed down the right fork "There's a magical glow coming from down there, somewhere."

We walked down the corridor, mindful that Kenshin as a Warresh was wandering the halls. We came to a door with many raised sigils on it, and Reiko said that they were definitely Lin's work.

Funitsu called up Kenshin on his scrying orb, which revealed that he was in a three-way intersection, much like the one we had just come through. The shaman pointed out that there was another room on the hallway that didn't have magic on the door, but it did have magic leaking out the edges, as if it contained great energy.

We asked a Thrykreen to open the door, and there was Kenshin's body, just as we'd seen it, still as death. Unwilling to go into the room, Haku simply shot an arrow through the man's head, making his death-like state into real death.

Behind me, Funitsu muttered a very rude word.

The splitting of his orb into two views had collapsed, and the one view was now of Kenshin as a Warresh thundering down the hallway towards us. We could hear him coming, as well as that long, low call that we know is the Warresh call to battle. I heard Reiko say to Jeron, "Don't die, all right?"

(Odd. I had been under the impression she wasn't speaking to him.)

We engaged with Kenshin, the librarian knocking him down on the first try and Haku holding him in an arm lock. Haku is stronger than he appears, it seems. The rest of us took stabs at the Warresh, and Reiko poured a vial of the true source down his throat.

The soul fled--and evidently took Kenshin's soul with it. The Warresh crumbled to dust.

Suddenly, everything was flame. We turned and there was Lin, who honestly didn't look much like Reiko at all. Perhaps the fact that she had a different body than the one she was born in was to blame. The librarian ordered the Warresh to subdue her, but before they reached her, she dropped a crystal on the ground and stepped on it.

All of the Warresh in the corridor died, falling at her feet.

Lin sneered, "You didn't think I wouldn't have a way to take care of these things, did you? Stupid."

Unfortunately, that moment of gloating cost her life. Haku, who had stuck himself to the ceiling, dropped down on her and forced a vial of the true source down her throat. Gryphon really wanted to start nibbling on her toes, but Reiko asked him to forbear until she had a chance to talk to her. The grypon mantled fiercely but settled, crouching and staring at Lin, making clicking noises with his beak.

Unfortunately, Lin refused to talk to Reiko. Reiko wouldn't let the rest of us either kill or torture her to see if she would talk, which left us at an impasse. We could send her to the Demonbane, but what if that's what he'd want?

Haku solved the problem of Reiko balking quite neatly by borrowing the mirror from Panda and hitting Reiko on the head with it. By the time Reiko got back out of the mirror, Haku had slit Lin's throat and Gryphon was merrily feasting on her corpse.

The kitsune looked quite upset as she saw the bloody scene. I volunteered to make the corpse dance, but as there wasn't much there to make move, I settled for reanimating the head.

From somewhere, the kitsune summoned up the steel to talk to the head of her dead granddaughter. The upshot of their conversation was that the plan to capture Reiko originally, before Lin died the first time, was engineered by the Demonbane, who wanted to lock Reiko up in a room by herself forever. Isolating a kitsune is one of the worst tortures you can inflict on them, after all.

The rest--stealing Reiko's memories, binding her powers--was all ordered by the Demonbane, who Lin was in constant contact with even after she became one of Reiko's spirits.

"And joining Arenro? Was that ordered by him as well?"

It was difficult to see, but some odd expression crossed the corpse's face. "I finally found a way to escape my great-grandfather. He controlled me for almost my entire life--and after my death."

Reiko asked no more questions. I asked her, as the final question, how one would get into her room. Her answer was, "Simple. Just say my grandmother's true name--the one she was given at birth."

We looked at Reiko, eyebrows raised. She sighed, and turned to the door. "Takumi Reiko." The door clicked and swung open.

It should have been an unalloyed victory. We emerged mostly unscathed, with two enemies dust, and the treasures of Lin's room to plunder. And for most of us, it was.

I think, for the kitsune, the day was altogether different. I saw her looking down on the head of her granddaughter, hair soaked with blood, seemingly torn between pain and elation. Lin was, after all, her granddaughter. All things considered, she was not a very good granddaughter, but we love even the reprobates in our families.

I saw, before we destroyed the last of Lin's body, Reiko kneel and take a lock of Lin's hair. Sentimental creatures, kitsune are.

I think that was sentiment, at least.

I hope you're well, Yukiko. Do send a message when you have a chance--we are all anxious about your well-being.

With great affection, Tomika

Quotes:

*squeak squeak squeak* --thumbscrews, as Funitsu subtly threatens Takashi

"Hey, Reiko, we have an extra coffin for the next time you go into battle!" --Gryphon

"You all kitted out, Hiroshi?" "I've got a great bloody sword, that's all I need!" "And a butt flap!" --Panda and Hiroshi

"I am flush with a sense of adventure!" --Panda, about our adventure in the sewers.

"How many times have I come close to death because I went up and played with people?" "Yes, but that was real life." --Ray and Laura

"Witch heads, witch heads, roly poly witch heads..." --Derek

"She has ten toes, right? That's an extravagant number! She won't miss a few." --Gryphon

#so queued #gaming recaps: illume #D&D recap

[imagine-loki]

The Sound of Silence

TITLE: The Sound of Silence CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 23/47 AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you are mute, and Loki comes to Avengers tower for the first time. Loki asks you a question and you answer through sign language. Loki looks at you crazy and thinks your making fun of him, he starts yelling saying that you should respect him since he’s a god and prince.  RATING: T+ NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 Click here

    You caught visions of what was going on downstairs while you dozed. Either one of the cuts had reopened, or your mind had just been so blasted open from all of the visions over the last year that they just happened whenever now. It was hard to tell.

    “Brother, that was uncalled for,” Thor was telling Loki, who looked unphased by his brother’s scolding.

    Loki shrugged. “They deserved it for what they did. I left one alive for you to question and find out how they did this and why,”

    “Did you have to torture them that…gruesomely?” Tony was asking, looking green around the edges.

    Loki gave him a malicious grin. “As I explained, I only gave to them the same tender treatment they gave to my beloved. Had they not harmed her…” he shrugged.

    “Not everyone in that room was responsible,” Cap argued.

    “They were all responsible,” Loki countered. “They were all part of that organization. They knew what was being done to my darling, they all knew and helped, aided the organization to hide her from us, or worse. I did check before I enacted my punishment on them. I made sure my victims were guilty, first. What? Do you think I am a monster?”

    Nat didn’t seem to phased by what Loki had done. You hadn’t expected her to be. Thor seemed to finally accept it. The others still weren’t pleased, and had been horrified by what they had seen, and by the screams of a ballroom full of victims. They had a rekindled respect/fear of Loki’s methods, but seemed to finally just accept that the deed was done.

    “The Hydra agent is down in a detention cell on the lowest floor. Don’t let Y/N find him,” Cap ordered.

    “How is she doing?” Nat asked, derailing the conversation to something more useful.

    Loki sighed heavily and hesitated. “Physically, she will heal. Her mind?” he hesitated again, thinking about it. “It will take time before we know…”

    “Why does she keep asking if this is real?” Clint asked, sounding like he didn’t really want to hear the answer.

    Loki looked so sad and hurt and…helpless. “Because she truly does not know anymore. They used her for visions from what I can gather nearly constantly for a year. She has lived for so long trapped in the visions of the past, present, and future, that right now she can’t tell what is real and what is the vision. I just hope that once she no longer has to live in visions all of the time that she can reground herself in reality.” He was explaining it slowly and as clearly as he could to those without magic.

    The vision faded and left you dozing alone in the bed with Lokibear.

    There was a soft knock on your door awhile later. “Darling? Are you still awake?” the door opened before you could answer, but you cracked your eyes open and propped yourself up on an elbow. “It’s just me,” Loki told you gently. “I didn’t mean to wake you, but I didn’t want to startle you, either.” You nodded and patted the bed beside you in invitation.

    [They aren’t too angry with what you did? They seemed to accept it]

    He gave you a look. “You saw the conversation downstairs?” he asked, obviously not happy about that. You nodded.

    [A wound must’ve reopened or something] you explained. He looked like he didn’t want to believe you. He thought that you had made a new cut. [I didn’t make a new cut] you told him firmly, reading his expression and guessing what he was worried about.

    “They have accepted it, though they are not pleased,” Loki finally answered your original question and sat on the bed with you. You wrapped your arms around him and let him hold you as you fell back to sleep.

    *

    It took Loki two hours of prodding and convincing before he got you to leave the safety of your room the next morning and it was only the threat that the others were so worried they were going to barge into your sanctuary that convinced you to leave the safety of your room. It wouldn’t be safe anymore if they others all started barging in.

    You still held on to him. He was real if you could touch him.

    The team greeted you kindly and Clint made pancakes. You actually gave him a small smile when he handed you the plate of pancakes. “Don’t let Loki steal yours, just because they’re his favorite,” he told you firmly. You gave him a real smile at the reminder, nodded your agreement and took your usual seat at the dining room table. Loki pulled our your chair for you before you could pull it out yourself. You gave him a shocked look and hesitated, taking a step back automatically.

    He sighed overly dramatically and rolled his eyes. “No love, I pull out the chair, you sit in it, I push it back in. It is called courtesy.” Your eyes lit up with the reminder of things that were real, happier days. You nodded and sat in the chair, letting him push it in as you sat. He kissed the top of your head, then sat beside you with his own plate of pancakes.

    The team purposely spoke of light things over breakfast, telling old stories, anything that was light and fun and normal. Loki devoured his pancakes and snuck his fork over toward your plate to steal yours. You flipped your fork in a practiced movement and jabbed his hand with it automatically. He mock-yelped and pulled his hand back, cradling it to his chest like you’d actually hurt him.

    “That is what you get for attempting to steal Lady Y/N’s breakfast, foolish little brother,” Thor scolded through his laughter.

    Their laughter kept you from retreating in fear. Though you did have to whisper to Loki “Still real?” it was too familiar to be real.

    “Very real, darling,” he replied as patient as ever. “You stabbed me with a fork. That is quite real,” he mock-grumbled, somehow getting you to laugh as well. The entire team looked shocked to hear you laugh, but the tension eased when you had. If you could laugh the day after you were rescued, you would heal. They may get annoyed with how often you asked if things were real before then, but you would heal.

    *

    Your sleep schedule was at least as erratic and nonexistant as it had been when you first moved into the tower. Loki was always around to keep you company. He had been pulled from missions until you were more stable. It was just like old times, napping all over the tower, adventuring in strange places, occasionally pulling tricks and pranks on the others.

    There was a thunderstorm a week after you were back. Neither you nor Loki were emotionally strong enough to help the other through it, so you both ended up in Thor’s bed. He graciously put up with two terrified ‘children’ as he called you that night pestering him and whining about how terrifying the storm was. Loki had always been afraid of them, and you were scared of lightning. Thor hid how pleased he was that both of you had come to him for comfort that night and promised Loki that he had not created the storm. The three of you rode it and the accompanying emotions out together.

    After a few weeks back, the team insisted that you invite Sammi over so she’d stop pestering them on how you were doing. You called her first, one day after school would have gotten out. She picked up the video call on the first ring.

    “Y/N!” she exclaimed. You waved at her shyly, holding Lokibear in your lap for comfort. The teddy bear spent a lot of time in your company these days. Nat still threatened Tony almost constantly to leave the bear alone. Tony insisted he wouldn’t mess with anything that was helping your PTSD and would buy you a whole legion of the damn things if that’s what it took to make you feel safe. He understood the PTSD at least as much, if not more than the rest of the team. “Are you ok? Cap said you were, but… you don’t look ok,”

    [It was a rough year] you told her. It had been a year that you were gone. Christmas was coming and you’d been taken a year ago in early December. [I’m still healing and trying to recover] you told her truthfully [but I will. It’s just going to take time…] you chatted with her about her nice boring normal life. It was exactly the grounding you need. [Do you want to come over soon?] you asked before the conversation ended.

    “Duh! Tomorrow? Sleepover?” she demanded. You nodded and gave her a smile before you ended the call.

    “Still real,” Loki told you before you could ask. You grinned and stuck your tongue out at him. He chuckled in reply and looked relieved. You handed him the book of Asgardian children’s stories he had been reading aloud to you. He sighed, put-upon, and rolled his eyes, but opened his arms to you so you could curl yourself in them to listen to his reading and most likely fall asleep to his soft tone and words.

    You let Loki drive the next day to the grocery store. You weren’t feeling grounded enough in reality to safely drive. You still got random visions, though they were happening less often, since the team had all been extremely firm that they were not using your prophecy powers, not asking you to use them, etc.

    He whined that he had to push the cart, but you just laughed at him. He also kept getting distracted wanting to look at all of the things in the store. You sighed and took his arm to keep him on task. It didn’t help. Silly Trickster kept trying to wander off. [If you don’t behave, I am putting a leash on you next time] you signed at him grumpily. You’d never do such a thing of course, but it was fun to threaten him with. He roared in laughter at that.

    “Sure you would, little siren,” he teased, but behaved better after that.

    Again, Sammis’ favorite ice cream was down to the last container at the back of the freezer on the top shelf. You glared at it and prepared to climb into the freezer for it. Loki reached past you to get the container before you could climb in to get it. You stuck your tongue out at him, but gave him a kiss in thanks. “You’re welcome, darling,”

    The slumber party was as fun as the first one with Sammi. You made pizzas and watched movies in a pillow fort on the living room floor. You also braided Loki’s hair and painted his nails. He didn’t argue, but pouted over the treatment.

    After her first inspection to make sure you were ok, she didn’t say a word over what had happened to you for the last year. Instead, she just fell back into old times and her normal exuberant behavior.

    The rest of the team stayed around this time, but Sammi’s toll was that they could only stay if they submitted to having their nails done. You were surprised they all agreed. You were even more surprised that the guys didn’t mind the stupid romance movies with the extremely hot men that you, Nat, and Sammi kept commenting about.

    “I am way better built than he is,” Thor complained at one of the men.

    “Prove it!” Sammi challenged. Thor couldn’t stand a challenge against his physique and obediently stood and stripped off his shirt. Loki made a retching noise from beside you. You jabbed him hard in the side with your elbow. He glared and tried to cover your eyes, making you laugh.

    [I have to help Sammi decide if he’s more attractive than the actor] you protested innocently. [It’s for science] you added with a grin. Loki glared.

    “I already know you’re hotter than the actor,” you whispered in his ear to appease him.

    “Of course I am,” he replied grumpily, but softened at your assessment of his physique. Silly Trickster.

    “Are you trying to claim you’re hotter than the actor too?” Sammi demanded when she heard Loki’s answer. “You know what that means,” she rushed over and grabbed Loki’s wrist to drag him to his feet. He stiffened. He didn’t like being touched by strangers. Sammi was just so…Sammi, that he somehow didn’t stab her for touching him. He sighed and huffed, but let himself be hauled to his feet. He did reach back for you to save him.

    [I’m not fighting her] you told him.

    Somehow all of the men ended up in front of the panel of judges without their shirts. You still had no idea how Sammi managed to convince them all. You did take plenty of pictures. She determined that they were all more attractive than the actors, if only to save the superheros’ feelings. Nat wasn’t as nice, and you voted for Loki to win, which everyone thought was blatant favoritism.

    “Why does she keep falling asleep?” Sammi asked Loki worriedly when you’d dozed off on him again during the evening. You’d taken a couple of catnaps already.

    “She is still healing,” he told her softly. You were mostly awake, just needed to rest your eyes for a little bit. “It was worse on her this time than at the prison,” he added. “She’ll be alright in time,”

#Loki #Lover #Imagine #Submitted fic #submission #nekoamamori #the sound of silence #chapter 23