#the third time! they have been cut off from the world and the attacked relentlessly

[ibtisams]

Gaza is currently in another communications blackout and getting heavy air strikes from Israel.

This is the third time Israel has cut Gaza off from communications before intensifying attacks.

#the third time! they have been cut off from the world and the attacked relentlessly #palestine #🦢

[theultimatemercenary69]

Sonic and Infinite are so fucking GRAUGHHHHHHHH I want. To study them in a lab. I don’t know how to convey the emotions I feel for this dog and hedgehog so please bare with me

Before I start my bs I just wanted to say this post actually goes out to @neurotypical-sonic and uh @beloved-user (and maybe a few other people but those were the only 2 that I saw had said anything at the time of writing this) because they wanted to see this content in the world so shoutout to them for giving me the courage to post about these cringe fail mobians (I am the sonic and infinite psychoanalysis anon btw)

there’s so much under the cut please be careful also please be nice it’s 2 am and I’m very emotionally fragile

The fact that sonic and infinite are 2 sides of the same coin yet also thematic foils to each other is just sending me over the deep end I can’t take it ARGHHHHHHH (I am willingly taking it)

You’re probably asking “what the actual fuck are you going on about dude” and to this I raise you all of this entire post (you’re gonna regret asking)

A few things before I start, this is obviously gonna be Forces bullshit because I Bear The Curse™️also I’m only gonna be talking about the English version of the game because sadly I have not been able to play or see the japanese dub yet, I’ll do that later though 

Also if there’s photos with shit quality, sorry, that’s on me

Ok autism activated let’s go

Let’s start with our obvious main man Sonic, the blue blur. I’m gonna start with something that irked a lot of people, and that is the fact that Sonic seemingly came out fine after being tortured for 6 months.

The thing is, he was absolutely not fine, at all, it was just so subtle that it was genuinely hard to tell, but once you notice, you continue to notice. The first thing you can see is that he is acting a lot more brutal I guess I could say??? 

I mean, look at the end of the Zavok fight, he beats the ever loving shit out of Zavok with his hands, not a few homing attack or spin dashes, his fucking hands, I don’t know how often that happens outside of games where the actual gimmick is hand to hand combat, but it seems pretty weird to me how he just keeps hitting Zavok and he just stares at him as he falls, panting and out of breath from how relentlessly he was attacking him

Second, he’s constantly talking about how he wants and will get revenge for what happened, he doesn’t let up that he’s going to get revenge, and I was actually kind of shocked when he started saying that I was kinda like “woah calm down buddy” (note, one of these screenshots is from the wiki because I couldn’t get the image from the game, also, these 2 are just from the cutscenes I could find, there’s so much more, this hog can hold so much malice and rage)

Third? Now this one is my favorite to talk about, because it really shows just how drastic Sonic and Infinite really are, the scene it occurs in is during the infinite fight with sonic and the avatar character, during the first stage where it’s just sonic

You may say “ok what’s special about the reskinned metal sonic fight?” sarcastically but this is a very important fact to me, and the fact is that Sonic just straight up implies to Infinite’s face that he’s gonna murder him!

 The line he says is played off as a kinda joke, but the way Sonic says it is so genuine that it’s a little bit disturbing, it’s a fridge horror kind of moment where you look at the line, maybe giggle, but after a quick google you realize just how fucked the line is because of the inclusion of one word, one single word.

The word being “Epitaph.” An Epitaph being the phrase or words written on someone’s tombstone in memory of them.

Now, you may know what line I’m referring to if you’re like me and reply that fight alot, but if you don’t know the line that’s fine, I’m gonna explain it either way because it’s very important to me!

So the fight starts and the first lines said are these;

Infinite: What would you like your epitaph to read? How about “Here lies the blue buffoon”?

Sonic: Why not “Here dozes the masked clown”? Might as well make it for the person who needs one, right?

I think you can see where I’m going with this point, let’s move on now to the other point I wanted to make, which is also kind of a major tone shift from the point above

This point ties in with the “2 sides of the same coin” bit, but the point I want to make is that Sonic needed companionship to win. (Take a drink of water every time I write the word “companionship” or anything similar starting now, see how hydrated you get)

He needed the avatar character to support him throughout that fight, he needed the avatar & classic to help him defeat the eggman and ruby as well, he needed companionship. 

This theme of him needing support and a companion is echoed through the very song that is the theme of forces, I am, of course, referring to Fistbump

AGGHHHH I LOVE FISTBUMP SO MUCH IT’S SO GOOD THEMATICALLY AND IT’S ALSO JUST A GOOD SONGi want you to know I’m snarling and biting and growling like a rabid animal but in a good way I’m sorry I just needed to say that real quick back to the point I was trying to make

Now, the first indication that Sonic needs companionship is that Fistbump is literally him “speaking” to the avatar character, the lyrics portray this perfectly, but I am going to stop myself before I go on a tangent about this song for too long, so next um dot point

The second indication he needs companionship using Fistbump is that it plays whenever he double boosts with the Avatar and during the level Null Space, the double boost is self explanatory, it’s them working together, they’re being friendly friends!

What people may not completely get is me bringing up Null Space, because, once again, there’s seemingly nothing special but there is. There is to me. In my heart. I love Null Space as well as the other stuff mentioned here because it ties into this insane bs I’m concocting for my viewing pleasure that just so happens to get to be on tumblr too!!

Null Space is a level where Infinite sends Sonic and, accidentally, the Avatar character to the level’s namesake, Null Space. Null Space is devoid of substance or life, it is the loneliest place you could ever be, but here Sonic and the Avatar are, the complete antithesis of such a concept, they are together, they are safe with each other, they are going to get out of there together.

And so they escape, and what is playing in the background as they do so? A version of Fistbump dedicated specifically to that level.

Before I can make the rest of my points, we have to talk about the elephant, er… jackal, in the room; Infinite.

Let’s start with a general thingy like we did with sonic, now, I’m not gonna go over his actions in game, they speak for themselves, I will, however, be talking about the implications of his actions; his morals, his values, all of that

First off let’s collectively discuss and by discuss I mean go ‘what the actual fuck is wrong with this dude’

It’s very clear that he’s just not a “good” person, he does morally frowned upon things like being a mercenary, of course, that’s one of the big ones, but the one that really fucks with me and makes me really wanna pick his brain is that despite Shadow being the one who hurt him, he immediately clicks to Sonic and the best way I can describe it is him going “i NEED to beat the ever loving shit out of that kid right now.”

Like, even during Episode Shadow, he still mentions Sonic with this personal malice that you don’t expect, stating that Sonic won’t be able to stop him, and it’s honestly just kind of weird tbh??? 

So he hates Sonic from the start, he gangs up on him, beats him to the point of unconsciousness, kidnaps him, is indirectly (at least) the cause of 6 months of torture, beats him again, tells him he’s not even worth killing, tries to kill him and the entire resistance by throwing the sun at them and then tries to kill him personally before Sonic can finally get the revenge he wanted.

So I’m sensing a lot of initially one-sided hostility between him and Sonic.

Another point is that his theme seems to be directed towards Sonic, it is mocking him, trying to tear down everything he establishes in Fistbump, stating that friendship will get you nowhere when you rely on it too much, asking who is going to save Sonic from Infinite when he is alone?

This is once again shown with how he interacts with Sonic, using Silver and Infinite’s little tussle as a comparison, yeah, Infinite throws an insult, but it’s as a collective, he says he’s happy to crush a hero to keep the “rabble” (the resistance) in line, but when Sonic appears it becomes very personal

He’s immediately on him, stating that Sonic is “back from the dead”, calling him the “little blue savior” and insisting he can smell Sonic’s fear, glad he’s left an impression, noting that Sonic is “still thrashing around”, in his own words.

He speaks to Sonic so personally, hell, he waits for Sonic to quit talking before tossing Sonic to another part of the jungle to fight him alone. He very well could have gotten rid of Silver and then dealt with Sonic, but he instead decides dealing with Sonic immediately is more important than Silver is. He even says that he will meet Sonic again after that fight.

he also threatens to smash Sonic into blue jelly. I just wanted to mention that because it’s funny that he specifically said he would smash him into BLUE JELLY

So it makes me wonder, what is this dude's issue??? Why is he so obsessed with Sonic? And then it kind of hit me. Sonic is the antithesis of everything he values and believes in, of course he’d be intrigued.

Or, alternatively, he’s intrigued because Sonic is just like him.

Yep, It’s the moment we’ve (me) all been waiting for! We’re finally discussing the “two sides of the same coin” point!

Sonic and Infinite are exact opposites but they are also the exact same! They both so desperately need support and companionship (I’ve covered Sonic’s need, but we can see how Infinite needs support and companionship with how he handles the loss of his squad), they both have the same kind of goal (change the world to be a place they would want to live in, good or bad), they’re both associated with the same people (Shadow and Robotnik)!

They are the exact same but they are exact opposites! They are each other’s foils but they complement each other so well, they are two sides of the same tarnished, damaged coin!

I LOVE SONIC FORCES SO MUCH WHY AM I LIKE THIS

Sonic and Infinite are what they could have been based on how they responded to their own struggles. Infinite could have very well been just like Sonic, dedicated to helping people because of what happened at Mystic Jungle, and Sonic could have very well been just like Infinite, lashing out and hurting everyone in his way because of any of the copious losses he’s been forced to deal with.

But they don’t, they become the person they are because of how they respond to their own struggles, trauma, losses and wins. And that’s the beauty of their characters. 

Sonic and Infinite are foils to each other, it’s a point you can’t argue, but the reason they are foils to each other is because they are the same in some weird, messed up way.

But I wanted to add one more thing before I finish this off.

Infinite very well left an Impression on Sonic. Like it or not, somehow, someway, Infinite’s concepts and ideals imprinted on Sonic and it made him and his own problems worse. So much worse.

I won’t go into too much about that because that links to other things outside of solely Forces, so yeah, tangent done. Thank you for listening

#infinite the jackal #sonic forces #sonic the hedgehog #sth #sonic #infinite #long post #what else should I tag #Sorry if you didn’t want to be @‘d I just love shouting out people because they are cool #*slaps roof of jackal and hedgehog* these bad boys can hold so much trauma and also rage apparently #*also slaps roof of shadow. Idk why I just felt like I should considering we’re talking about forces*

[thunder-at-dawn]

October 3rd

word count: 1,535

prompt: distraction

summary: sapnap wants to show karl an extraordinary cave that he found. however, a creature lurks in the shadows, and it wants to thwart their plans… or does it?

I loved writing this one, might be one of my all time favorites. you guys are really in for a treat. :)

warning: this is a sfw tickle fic! don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable :]

If there was one thing that Karl knew about Sapnap, it was that he could be extremely unpredictable. It was almost like he had a different group of personality traits every day. Some days, he would be more affectionate. Sometimes, he was less confident and loud like normal. However, if Karl had to choose two traits to describe him in this very moment, they would be hyper and adventurous.

“I swear, you should’ve been there when me and George found it! It was so cool, I could’ve stayed there for hours.” Sapnap rambled on, walking in front of Karl. “You’re going to love it.”

“Wow, you seem really excited about this.” Karl, who was the calmer of the two currently, observed as he walked behind.

“Well, of course!” Sapnap grinned, a bounce in his steps. “I’m excited for you to see this!”

Karl smiled softly. Seeing his fiancé so happy made him happy in return. He looked at the trees, stretching high up in the air. If the woods they were walking through were beautiful, then this cave had to be breathtaking.

Suddenly, Sapnap stopped walking. Karl didn’t even notice until he bumped into him, and noticed that he was now standing still.

“Uh… Karl? Did you hear that?” Sapnap turned around, looking at the time traveler with nervous eyes.

“Hear what?”

“That noise. Did you not just hear that?”

“…No. I didn’t hear anything. What are you talking about?”

“I just heard a noise. It…” Sapnap paused. “It sounded like a monster.”

“A monster?” Karl asked, now a bit on edge. “What kind?”

“I dunno, it just…” The other sighed, looking onwards. “It’s probably nothing. Look, we’re almost at the cave entrance. Let’s just keep walking.”

The happy, bubbly mood in the air had suddenly shifted to a heavy, ominous one as the two lovers wandered through the woods. Sapnap would keep insisting that he was hearing a noise, but every time, Karl would hear nothing. It was honestly making him a little bit concerned.

“Alright… this is it.” Sapnap let out a shaky breath, the pep in his step completely gone.

Karl looked up, noticing the cave entrance. The entrance itself was a big hole in a hill, and it led down. There were a few torches on the walls at the entrance, but everything else beyond that was pitch black.

“Um…” Sapnap looked at the dark abyss, grabbing a torch from off the wall and handing it to Karl. “Is… Is it okay if you go in front?”

The other’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. Sapnap was so… happy, just a few moments ago, and now he was scared. Karl could tell he was trying to act calm, but he was clearly nervous.

If Karl could describe Sapnap today with a third word, it would be fearful.

“Yeah… I can.” He nodded, holding the torch in his hand, and lightly holding Sapnap’s hand with the other. The two of them walked gently down the steps of the cave, holding each other’s hands, making sure not to trip over anything. Karl, leading ahead of them, felt his partner’s hand slip away, and his heart skipped a beat. “Sapnap?”

“Sorry, I keep getting distracted.” Sapnap sighed. “Are you sure you don’t hear that?”

“I don’t hear anything!” Karl exclaimed, getting more uneasy by the minute. It was true, he really didn’t hear any sort of monster noise. He hadn’t once for this entire journey. What he did hear next, however, was the noise of Sapnap falling over.

“Sapnap?!” The traveler whipped around, running behind him to help his friend off of the ground. However, when he went to help him up, no one was there.

“Sap? Oh my honk, where did you go?”

He was behind him one second ago, and he wasn’t there anymore. Karl was alone in the deep, dark cave, with the torch as his only friend.

And then, he heard it.

A low, rumbling, growl.

A monster.

Karl didn’t know what to do in that moment, so he did the first thing that came to his mind.

Run.

He turned around, torch in hand, and ran back up to the entrance. He ran as fast as his legs could take him, and the light at the end of the tunnel showed more and more. He made it up to the top, sticking the torch to the wall and putting his hands on his knees, panting heavily. He couldn’t remember the last time he ran that fast. But where was Sapnap? He was right behind him. And now he wasn’t. He needed to find him, as soon as he could. It was the only thing on his mind, he couldn’t do anything else before he found-

“Karl!”

“AAH!”

Karl felt two hands grab onto his sides, and he turned around in a stumbled panic as he let out a loud scream. There was Sapnap, right behind him. And boy, did he find Karl’s reaction hilarious.

“Sapnap! What the honk?! You scared me!” Karl placed a heart on his chest.

Sapnap, on the other hand, was in hysterics. He clutched his stomach, laughing loudly. “Ihi’m sohorry, Ihi’m sohorry! Ihi cohouhuldn’t hehelp mysehelf!”

“I thought I was going to have a heart attack.” Karl sighed, stepping closer to Sapnap.

“Ihi cahan tehell! My mohonsteher nohoihise reheahally scahared yohou, huh?”

Karl looked at his giggling companion, confused, until it hit him, and his eyes went wide in realization. “That was you?! Sapnap!”

If Karl could describe Sapnap today with a fourth word, it would be mischievous.

He wanted to be annoyed at Sapnap, he really did. He wanted to discipline him for giving him the scare of his life, but he couldn’t do it when he was being so cute. His smile could light up any room.

And his laughter… could bring joy to anyone, no matter the situation.

“You found that funny, huh, Sapnap?” Karl asked, crossing his arms and stepping closer. Sapnap nodded, a snort coming from him as he still laughed. “Well, I’ve got something really funny to show you then!”

Sapnap giggled, raising an eyebrow out of curiosity. When he felt two hands grab onto his sides and furiously squeeze, he giggled more, a girlish squeal escaping his lips before he could stop it.

“DuhuHUDE! Nohohoho!!” He wriggled around, but Karl held onto him firmly, squeezing relentlessly.

“Dude, yes! You totally deserve this for scaring the honk outta me.” Karl responded, an equally wide smile on his face as his squeezes moved upwards, starting to now squeeze at Sapnap’s ribs.

“Noho I doHOHON’T!” He screamed out, sinking towards the ground. Karl only grinned and followed him down.

“Yes, you do! It was very mean.” Karl faked being upset, fingers bouncing along his fiancé’s ribs like a piano. Sapnap was in a giggling frenzy, shoving at his hands and attempting to hide his pink face.

“Y’know, it’s almost like you’re more ticklish when you’re already giggly. Which is very convenient right now.” He smiled.

“YeHEHEahah, fohor yoHOHOU!” Sapnap yelled out, the blush on his face growing deeper. Karl shook his head, stopping his fingers.

“You keep talking back to me, it’s so rude! Looks like I need to put you in your place, mister!” The time traveler had a soft smirk on his face, reaching a hand down and slowly pulling up Sapnap’s shirt. When he felt the fabric moving, Sapnap’s squirming increased drastically.

“WAIT! Wait! WahAHait! Dohon’t! Karl, Kaharl. Come ohon, dude.” He pleaded, the evil look on his fiancé’s face filling his stomach with butterflies. “Yohou dohon’t have to doho this. Kaharl. Karl. Wait. Wahait. KARL, DOHON’T! KAHAHARL-”

A high pitched scream cut Sapnap off, preventing him from saying any more as the feeling of a raspberry rippled through his tummy. After he screamed, high pitched, bubbly laughter spilled out of him like a waterfall. And just when he thought it was over, he felt another one and shrieked with laughter, throwing himself against the ground.

If Karl could describe Sapnap today with a fifth word, it would be adorable.

“KAHAHARL!! PLEHEHEAHAHASE! IHI CAHAHAN’T TAHAHAKE IHIHIT!” He screamed as his limit was being reached. Smaller raspberries started to be planted on his stomach instead, and then, they were reduced to small, slightly tickly kisses, each one accompanied with a “mwah!” sound.

“Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!” Karl giggled along with Sapnap as he planted kisses all over his tummy. He finally finished, grabbing Sapnap’s hand and helping him off of the ground once he was rested up.

“Sooo… is there actually a cool cave around here? Or did you just bring yourself out here to scare the honk outta me?” Karl asked.

“No, there actually is a cave. I did want to show you, we just got distracted. You still wanna see?” Sapnap offered, grinning when Karl nodded.

Just as Karl had done before, Sapnap grabbed the torch from the wall with one hand, and held Karl’s own in the other. He excitedly led his lover down the cave path, reaching a railroad with two minecarts.

That day, Karl reaffirmed two things he knew about Sapnap.

One: He was definitely an unpredictable person.

Two: Karl wouldn’t change that trait for the world.

#dawn writes #lee!sapnap #ler!karl #c!sapnap #c!karl #dsmp tickle #mcytickletober #is it possible to fall in love with your own fic? bc i think that’s what happened here #i am down on one knee <3 #🔥 sapnap - born from fire #🍭 karl: turning back time

[inkandpen22]

Young Hearts Divided (5/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader 

Warnings: fluff, underage drinking, mild smut, swearing?

Word Count: 2.7k

Part Summary: it’s a few days after Y/N received her horrible news. Since then, she’s been acting as though everything fine. When Gryffindor wins against Hufflepuff and everyone gathers to celebrate, everything comes to ahead. 

Masterlist

Growing antsy, I check my watch for the tenth time in the last half hour. Oh good, finally! Sirius is finally out of detention! I scribble down the last bit of my paper and start to pack up my things to leave the library. Lily and Marlene peer up from their work across the table.

“Are you okay?” Marlene breaks the silence.

“Yeah, just peachy!” I press my lips together as I shove my textbook into my bag.

“Y/N, you don’t have to act like you’re okay,” Lily tries to reason with me gently. “You’re dealing with something-”

“Everything is fine, Lil!” I snap.

Lily and Marlene jumps slightly at my sudden rashness. Comprehending what I’ve just done, I take a deep breath and fill with instant regret. It’s not my friends’ fault, I shouldn’t take it out on them.

“I made my decision,” I state calmly. “Now it’s done.”

I start to rise from my seat and place my bag on my shoulder. Checking my watch again, I realize that I actually have a few extra minutes, oh well. I don’t think I can sit here in this silent library for much longer.

“Where are you going?” Marlene questions hesitantly and glances between me and Lily.

“I’m supposed to meet Sirius in the courtyard,” I rush out.

Lily’s face scrunches in confusion. “What about James?”

“What about him? See ya!” I force a smile and head toward the door.

Now I’m certain Lily and Marlene are going to have a field day with worrying about me. 

________________________

Laying in the grass of the courtyard under the tree, Sirius and I just lounge around for most of the afternoon. I rest against the bench and Sirius baths under the sun. He surprised me with blackberries he stole from the kitchens on his way here. I’ve challenged him to catch them in his mouth. Even when he has the advantage of me dropping it directly above his mouth, Sirius doesn’t have the best coordination.

“No, a thousand percent! Heart is much better than The Runaways.” I agree as I drop another blackberry.

Sirius actually catches it, so i playfully applaud him. He pretends to bow, struggling to suppress his laughter. Rolling onto his side to face me, he grabs a handle full of berries from the pile on the towel beside me.

“Do you think you’d ever be in a band like that?” He asks.

I laugh, “could you see me in a rock band?”

“Yeah, sure,” he nods, dead serious.

“What?!” I nudge him on the shoulder. “Are you mad?”

“Mad about you...” He smirks cheekily, meeting my gaze with hooded eyes.

I roll my eyes at his flirtatious innuendo, pressing my lips together to hide my childish grin. I can feel my cheeks getting warm and it’s not from the heat of the sun. With a flick of my wrist, I pick up a berry from the pile and hold it up to his mouth. He glances at it and back at me, anticipating me moving it away. Hesitantly, he leans forward to take the berry in his mouth. His eyes remain locked on mine. Then, I hurry and pop the berry in my mouth with a snicker.

"Oh you're gonna get it now!" Sirius laughs.

He grabs me by the waist and rolls me over so that I'm on his lap. Relentlessly, he starts tickling me, knowing how much I can't stand it. I wiggle in his hold, but I know he's far too strong and I don't stand chance.

“Sirius stop!” I squeal.

“Sorry, can’t hear you!” He mocks playfully.

“Sirius!” I laugh nervously, trying to pry his hands away.

“Not the magic word," Sirius teases in a sing-songy tone. "But by all means keep screaming my name," he purrs.

“I don’t know it!” I plead, struggling to cease my laughter.

“Oh sure you do! Think, Gorgeous, think!” He snickers.

“Padfoot!” I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“There it is!”

Sirius stops his attack and I relax beside him on the grass. My breathing slowly subsides as I pant. Rather proud of himself, Sirius watches me with a grin.

“You’re the worst!” I giggle, watching the clouds flow by as I catch my breath.

“You say that but you love me,” he winks.

I turn my head to the side and meet his gaze. "Most days," I admit quietly with a giggle.  

His face falls, "you what-”

“Y/N!” James's voice captures my attention.

I sit up to see him jogging over from the quidditch field with a smile.

“There you are, Darling! I’ve been looking for you," he greets warmly once he's closer.

Joining us, he sits on the bench beneath the tree and I crawl across the short distance to sit on the grass by him.  

“I’ve been here," I point out nonchalantly. "How was practice?”

“Decent. I’ve missed you today," he charms, rubbing his hand up and down my back.

“We saw each other this morning,” I snicker.

“Yes, but you were with Lily and Marlene. I hardly got to speak with you," he dramatically pouts like a child who lost his toy.

"That's what meals are for," I lecture.

I crisscross my arms on his leg and rest my chin on them, enjoying this beautiful afternoon. It's honestly the most perfect weather and spending it with my two favorite boys isn't too shabby either.

"I'm going to head out," Sirius announces, already to his feet.

I protest disappointedly, "but-"

"What's up mate?" James beats me to it.

Sirius shrugs, suddenly gloomy. "Nothing, just promised Remus I'd help him with something."

"Alright, see you at dinner then," James nods. "You're going to the game tonight right?"

Sirius mutters an agreement and glances down at me.

"I'll see you Y/N," he mumbles, offering me a weak smile.

I nod, "yeah, yeah most definitely!"

I don't want him to go. We were having so much fun. He turns to walk away and I mood is hindered. One minute we were having a blast, like how we were before... well before everything. Now, I'm just confused.

“Hey," James pulls my focus away from Sirius. "Excited for Hogsmeade next weekend?"

I hum, nodding my head enthusiastically. "It'll be a nice change of pace."

"I had an idea! After the game tonight, let’s go to the Astronomy Tower,” he suggests enthusiastically.

I shake my head, biting my lip to hide my grin. This boy is going to get me in trouble without a doubt.

"But what if we get caught?" I inquire wisely.

“I’ll bring my invisibility cloak,” he concludes without a care in the world.

I hum, thinking it over. If we do end up getting caught, that's my third detention this year. James better bring his cloak if I do agree to it.

“I’ll think about it.” I comply, not fully, but enough to satisfy the boy.

"Perfect," he leans down and plants a kiss to the top of my head.

__________________________________________________________

I do another shot of firewhiskey with Marlene and it hits me instantly, putting me over the edge. Gryffindor won today against Hufflepuff, so everyone's celebrating in the Common Room. The girls and I decided earlier today to dress for the occasion. I bought a new red leather skirt over the summer when Marlene came to visit me. I've yet to wear it and Marlene insisted I pair it with her yellow Gryffindor t-shirt she cut to a crop top.

James bloody brilliant on the field today. Then, Sirius kept making me laugh through the whole game, making sly comments the entire time. I thought Remus was going to bonk him on the head by the end.

Marlene tugs on my sleeve. "Let's dance!"

"And where shall we dance?" I stumble slightly, in my defense the room is a little spinny.

Marlene twirls her head, searching for a proper place.

"The study table!" I announce, right as the idea pops into my head.

"Excellent!" Marlene clasps her hands together and starts dragging me through the packed space.

She weaves between bodies, warning people to move. I laugh, she is by far the most wild girl I have ever had the pleasure of befriending.

"Oh well hello there!"

Someone new grabs my wrist that's free from Marlene and I'm yanked away from her. I land into someone's chest and I'm met with a familiar pair of glasses. He brings his hands around my waist, gliding over my exposed skin between the hem of my skirt and crop top.

"Hello to you too, Potter," I greet, draping my arms over his shoulders.

"And where have you been?" He purrs, leaning in to kiss me I suspect. 

Marlene pops up next to us. "Doing shots with me! Now, if you don't mind-" she takes my arm again "-Y/N here promised me we'd dance!"

"By all means," James hands me over. "I'll find you later," he assures me.

I offer him a wink right as Marlene tugs me away. She locks arms with me as she escorts me over to the table.

"Potter is mushy-gushy into you!" She shouts in my ear over the music.

"He's just a flirt!" I dismiss, not giving it a second thought.

"You're blind!" She teases.

Once we reach the table, I grab a chair and lead to climb onto the top. Heads around us start to turn and people start clapping.

Marlene shifts on her feet, swaying slightly as points to Mary who's in charge of the music across the room. "Mary! You better play Bowie right or I swear I'll make your skin blue for a week!"

Sweet, quiet, friendly Mary raises her hands in surrender and goes to put on Marlene's Bowie record that's always by the player. Marlene jumps up and down, getting herself energized as if she's about to perform at Wembley. The familiar sound of the album Marlene had me listen to the other night starts to echo through the Common Room.

"Yes! I love this song!" Marlene takes my hands and starts dancing with me.

We sway to the music and jump about the beat. I can't help but laugh at Marlene drunken dancing, it's just a mess. She raises our hands and waves for me to spin. My eyes fall shut as I twirl about the table top. I return the favor and she spins, nearly falling over. We burst out laughing, goodness this is just awful!

She pulls me closer to shout in my ear, "Potter can't take his eyes off you!"

I search the crowd of students decked out in their gold and red. Sure enough, I spot James leaning against the back of the couch speaking with Remus. He meets my gaze, a smile on his face as he mutter something to his friend.

"He's probably just wondering what the hell our dancing is!" I laugh.

"Then show him what you can really do," she urges with a mischievous grin.

I roll eyes and nudge her playfully, "no way!"

"Oh stop it! You know you can, I know you can, so do it," she encourages.

Marlene already starts climbing down from the table before I can argue otherwise. I glance around the room nervously for a second. Now standing at my feet, she waves for me to go on. A familiar rock song starts playing and I grin, I can work with this. Swaying my hips to the beat, I get in the groove of things. Marlene starts cheering and heads start turning. More cheering ensues as people start realizing what's going on. The attention encourages me to go on, I thrive off of it. If it weren't for the firewhiskey, I would never have the guts to do this. I slowly lower myself into a squat and roll back up flirtatiously, that earns a round of applause and cheering. I shake my bum playfully and send the crowd a wink.

A hand around my wrist yanks me down and Sirius stares at me furiously. He pulls me toward him and I'm flung over his shoulder. His arms keep me balanced as I hang upside toward his back. I swing as he marches through the crowd of riled Gryffindors toward the entry way.

"Sirius! Sirius let me down!" I swat at the back of his legs.

The raven-haired boy ignores my refusal and carries me out into the abandoned stairwell.

The Fat Lady gasps. "What on Earth are you doing boy?"

He ignores her as well, marching down the stairs to who knows where.

"Okay Sirius, I'm a grown person I can walk!" I whine.

"Then stop acting like a child," he snaps back.

"Me! You're the one who's been pouting around like a baby the past week!"

Despite my insult, he just keeps going like a bloody robot, march, march, march away! I press on his back to sit up right and peer over his shoulder to see where we're going.

“You can’t just carry people like a sack of flour!” I growl.

“You can when they’re acting insane!” He yells

I smack his back. “I’m not crazy! Take that back!”

His head whips around and he glares down at me. “No, you’re just an indecisive tease who doesn’t know what she wants!”

“Me the tease?!" I laugh. "You’re the biggest man whore whoever walked these halls!”

Abruptly, Sirius makes a sharp right into an alcove with a crumbled old stairwell and greenery growing in its cracks. He sets me down on my feet with a thud. I stumble for a second, but catch my footing.

“At least when I pick a girl I’m with only her! You’re switching back and forth between me and James like you’re the quaffle in a quidditch match! Pick a team Y/N!” He fires at me.

My head shifts forward in disgust. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

He scoffs, glaring up at me as though I'm lying. "Just quit it, you know exactly what it means!"

I shake my head, dismissing his digs. "You're drunk," I reason in a hiss.

He narrows his eyes at me sharply. "What if I am? So are you, Love, but I'm not the one making a fool of myself."

"I'm making a fool of myself, so what?! I don't care anymore!" I scream at him. “Why do you care?!”

His eyes grow wide. “Are you fucking serious?!” He laughs breathlessly.

“No, you-”

In a swift motion, Sirius pins me against the wall and presses his finger to my lips. “Don’t you dare bloody say it!”

I swallow my tongue, remaining still as Sirius keeps me pinned hard against the wall. His torso presses into me and he keeps his finger over my lips. The silence is consumed by nothing else than Sirius and I catching our breath quietly. I bury my eyes into his with a deep agitation. He's the most aggravating boy I've ever met in my entire life. His sharp stare could cut me clean if I weren't immune to it. Then, to my surprise, his face softens and his hand glides to my cheek. My heart starts to race, it was before, but this time it's more life an adrenaline rush.

"Did you mean it?" He whispers.

I swallow hard, "mean what?"

"When... when you said you love most days?" He stammers nervously.

Oh. I said that randomly, without much thought. I mean, we were kidding around. We was flirting so I tossed it right back to him, it’s what we do. I didn't think... I didn't know that he would...

"I mean if you didn't-" he rushes out, avoiding my gaze, "-it's fine! I'd understand, I was-"

As he stumbles over his words uncharacteristically and I see his nervousness consume him, it hits me like a ton of brick. I did mean it, every word. 

"Yes," I answer in a mutter, afraid my voice will give out on me.

His eyes meet mine frantically. "Wait what?!"

"Yes," I repeat, licking my lips anxiously. "I meant it..."

I feel as though my heart is in my throat and I find it hard to breathe. My eyes fall to Sirius's parted lips. I'm not familiar with this feeling, this urge. My eyes flicker up to meet his as his thumb brushes across my cheek. His dark alluring gaze pours into me like a starless night sky. Then, they glance down at my lips and Sirius shifts closer to me, if that's even physically possible. He leans in and hesitantly hovers mere centimeters from me. Acting on impulse, I finish the distance and press my lips to his. The sensation is unparalleled in this world. Sirius holds both sides of my face, deepening the kiss. I drape my arms over his shoulders and comb my fingers through his shoulder length locks. It feel so right and natural, as if we've been doing it our whole life. They just... Sirius and I fit together. He's like a guiding star in a world of darkness and I cling to him for life.

______________________________

Masterlist

Tags:  @hannah220506 @agirlwholovescoffee @a-classic-eye @devilstradegy @blackbirddaredevil23 @tay-mariee @blackpinkdolan @findzelda

#sirus black #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfic #sirius black #sirius black x reader #james potter imagine #james potter #james #marauders x reader #marlene mckinnon #maruaders era #marlene #marauders fanfic #lily #lily evans #remus lupin #sirius x remus #remus fanart #hogwarts #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfic #harry potter smut #harry potter #peter pettigrew #peter

[northlight14]

A love for love

Description: Roman loved love. He always had, even as a small child. So why was it so different whenever he was involved?

TW: panic attack, mention of making out but nothing is actually shown, cursing, questioning, unrequited love, let me know if I should add anything else

Ships: unrequited royality, platonic roceit, dukeceit

Genre: high school au

Prompt: prompt 6, aromantic (prompt by @pridewrite2021)

Roman loved love. He always had. Even as a small child, he'd watch wide eyed as Prince Charming leaned down and gave sleeping beauty true loves kiss, something so powerful that it was able to break an evil witches curse. He'd stayed up till early hours in the morning, squealing with excitement as he read about two warriors able to take on an entire army, motivated by their want to keep the other safe and stealing glances at each other as their metal swords collided with the enemies weapon. He'd sing his heart out when a romance song came on the radio, gushing about their love interest with such emotion that Roman adored.

Yes, Roman loved love.

So why was it so different whenever he was involved?

The earliest memory Roman had of this was when he was in first grade. Two of his classmates ran up to him giggling as they sang "Savannah has a crush on you!" Instead of feeling that overwhelming joy like the ones described in his books and music, he felt a deep cutting disgust in his stomach. Roman felt less like he could conquer the world and more like the world was going to swallow him whole. Rather than singing any great love song that he'd sang so many times in his room or in the car, he began crying instead while the two girls looked at him in confusion.

"It was just because I don't like her." Roman told himself.

But this feeling of being out of place only grew as his fellow classmates gushed about their boyfriends and girlfriends, crushes and which cartoon character they find cute. Granted, they were in second and third grade, so the terms "boyfriend" and "girlfriend" roughly translated to "they let me borrow their crayon at break once and now we're in love and going to get married." However, this love for love spread like a virus and Romans desire to fit in only grew. So, during a sleepover with his friends, Roman looked upon the TV, at the princess Aurora and decided 'She'd make a good crush.' Before announcing it to the crowd of toddlers, the words immediately sounding wrong as he spoke them, as if he'd spoken them in a foreign language. He decided that night to never speak of his supposed "crush" ever again. Roman liked Aurora with Prince Philip much more, anyway.

Roman was in fifth grade when he was talking to one of his best friends, Valorie. The two of them just laughing and joking when his friends approached.

"Who's your girlfriend, Ro?" one laughed, putting his arm around Roman. And he knew it was a joke. He knew that. But it still felt like the arm hadn't wrapped around his shoulders and instead knocked all the air out his lungs in one hard punch. This moment lingered in his mind like a haunting apparition, quickly causing any friendships with girls to become strained. First only talking occasionally while in class or on the yard, to only talking when his guy friends weren't around, to only texting outside of school to nothing at all. Roman mourned these friendships but it had been made clear that boys and girls couldn't just be friends and the idea of people thinking he was dating any of these people made him feel like a caged bird.

Later that year Roman decided, despite his love for love, he didn't want to date. The reason for this being...

"I'm just more focused on my career."

"I just don't see the point in dating right now."

"I've never really liked anyone so what's the point?"

"I just like being more focused on myself."

And any other excuse he could possibly come up with, repeating them as many times as he needed to to believe them. Roman had always been a good actor, after all. But, of coarse, with this supposed decision came "reassurance" from adults, as if they had the ability to see the future.

"You just haven't met the right person, yet."

"You'll change your mind one day, when you get a bit older."

"All kids say that at your age."

"Roman isn't interested in dating YET."

These invalidating promises made Romans blood boil the more he heard them. It was as if he was yelling while trapped in a soundproof box, unable to escape. But, despite what seemingly everyone around him was saying, Roman knew deep down that romance just wasn't for him.

He also remained thankful that this love for love hadn't infected his friendship too much.

That was until seventh grade when what was originally a few cases of a love for love became an epidemic. It seemed that all anyone wanted to know was "do you have a crush on her?" "Did you hear that Lily and Reese are going out?" "Do you find her attractive?" This soon made its way over to his friends as they talked about how hot the girls were and teased each other relentlessly about who they liked. Roman once again felt like an outsider in his friend group. His friends conversations about their girlfriends may as well have been spoken in Latin.

Then the day came when his twin brother, Remus, came out as gay and started dating a guy named Janus. It then occurred to Roman.

"Maybe the reason I haven't been feeling anything for all these girls was because they were girls! Maybe I like boys instead!" Roman had never been a very logical person but this definitely seemed to make more sense. If he didn't like women then that surely must mean that he liked men instead, right? Because otherwise...otherwise Roman didn't know what that meant.

So Roman tried. Really God damn tried to find boys cute, to fantasize about dating them, to relate to gay experiences. But all he was met with was the same foreign and hollow feeling he'd felt when he lied about having a crush back in 2nd grade. Roman quickly began feeling his love for the concept of love diminish.

So when Roman entered grade 9, he decided to put anything to do with his romantic feelings (or lack there of) in a little box in the back of his mind to deal with later. Instead putting his passion and good acting skills to use by joining his schools drama department. The moment he stepped foot on stage, he felt himself come alive. The crowd, the praise, the creativity, it was addicting.

And it was only made better with the more friends he made. There was one person who he grew partially close to. Patton Heart. The two quickly became best friends, often hanging out outside of rehearsals and texting non stop. And, for the first time in what seemed like years, Roman was happy and comfortable.

That was until 10th grade. Roman way lying on his bed watching Netflix on his phone when a message from Patton came through. Roman clicked on the message and was caught massively off guard as he read it.

Patton: hey, Roman. So I've been thinking a lot lately. In particular about us and about you. And over the past few months I've started to realize that I have a really big crush on you. You're really handsome, funny and talented and I love spending time with you. It's totally ok if you don't like me back, but I figured it's better to be honest.

It should've been it. The moment when one of the main characters confesses their feelings for the love interest and they proclaim they feel the same way. Sparks fly and their hearts beat faster with excitement. It all becomes so clear when they hear that confession in movies and books.

But this wasn't a movie.

Roman felt time stand still as he read the message, his hands shaking so much he didn't think he would be able to respond even if he knew how to answer.

He couldn't breath. Why couldn't he breath?! The edges of his vision went fuzzy as he desperately gasped for air.

"Patton's great." He thought through his suffocating panic. "He's funny and charming and sweet. You should like him. Why don't you like him? What's wrong with you?!" Romans thoughts yelled as he tried desperately to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

Not sure of what else to do, Roman ran to Remus' room, hoping he'd know how to respond.

Roman knocked on his brothers door and Remus responded with a very annoyed "come in" after a few beats of silence. Remus and Janus were sat on Remus' bed and Roman could tell from their slightly red lips that the two had been making out. But he wasn't in the headspace to even pretend to care that he'd interrupted them right now.

"Ugh, what do you want?" Remus said, clearly too irritated by his brothers presence to notice his distress.

"P-Patton just messaged me s-saying he likes me and I don't know what to say." Roman barely stuttered out, trying desperately not to cry in front of Remus and his boyfriend.

"Aw, cute. Roro finally got a man." Remus joked but Roman was definitely not in the mood for that kind of humor.

"Do you like him back?" Janus asked, calmly, clearly taking more notice of Romans distress.

"Well, I do. But not like that."

"Ok, so just tell him that. It doesn't have to be this whole thing. Why are you getting so upset?" Remus said, looking at Roman as if he was stupid.

Which, to be fair, Roman did feel very stupid right now.

"He's my best friend. I don't want to upset him." Yeah, that was the reason Roman was freaking out. He just didn't want to hurt Patton. That was it.

"Well, just say you don't want a relationship right now or some shit. Besides, he's probably more worried now because you've taken so long to answer." Remus pointed out. Yeah, Roman was never coming to Remus with his problems ever again.

"Yeah...ok." Roman said. Slowly, he walked out the room, noticing Janus looking at him curiously but deciding not to focus on it.

Roman: I'm really sorry Patton, but I don't feel the same way. We can still be friends tho. It doesn't have to be awkward between us. Especially because I really like being friends with you.

Patton: Yeah, that's ok. This is kinda what I was expecting to be honest. But yeah, I still wanna stay friends.

A few days later Janus came over again for dinner. Afterwards, Roman went into the living room and sat on the couch, scrolling through Instagram.

To his surprise, Janus followed after him and sat next to him. "So, how are you feeling after a few days ok. Broken his heart yet?" Janus teased.

Roman huffed out a laugh. "Uh, yeah, we agreed to just stay friends. Which I'm happy about but it's also really weird. I honestly don't know where we go from here which sucks because I really like Patton. Just not like...that." Janus nodded in understanding.

"You must care about him a lot if you had a panic attack just because you didn't want to hurt his feelings." Janus said. Roman just shrugged in response. "So, does that mean you like someone else?" Janus asked.

"No...I. I don't know. I've...I've never really liked anyone. I don't think I ever will. And people say I'll change my mind but...it isn't like I've made a choice. I've felt like this my whole life and everyone around me has had a crush on someone by now. I just... don't think I was built for romance. Which I know probably sounds stupid but that's just how I feel." He said, so honest it almost hurt.

Janus nodded slowly, taking in what Roman was saying. "It doesn't sound stupid." He said before pausing, as if considering his next choice of words. "Roman...have you ever heard of the term aromantic?" He asked.

"No." Roman answered, looking at Janus curiously.

"It basically means someone who experiences little to no romantic attraction. So they don't get crushes and stuff like that." He explained.

Roman felt his heart leap and for once it wasn't because of a fight or flight reflex. "Wait, that's a thing?" He asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, a surprising number of people identify with it. I don't want to assume anything but I thought I might mention it just from what you've told me and what Remus has said in the past. Plus that panic on your face yesterday reminded me a bit of when I tried to force myself into romantic situations with girls." Janus smirked to himself.

That night Roman researched more on aromanticism than he did for his science test. The more he searched, the more it just made sense. Of coarse, he still had a long way to go towards self acceptance. Roman could feel himself already starting to mourn the idea that this was a choice he'd made ages ago and he was going to feel romantic love one day. It was an odd feeling, realizing that even though he knew deep down it wasn't a decision and he'd always hated when people made those comments, a part of him took comfort in adults promising that he'd change his mind one day. He was also horrified to realize that he didn't know what his future was supposed to look like now without romance. After all, media seemed to show single middle aged adults exclusively as depressed and lonely. But as he scoured through wiki articles to tumblr pages to memes, he knew this was a good start to unlearning any nonsense society had been shoving down his throat.

The more Roman learned and the more people he talked to online about it, the more he started to feel his love for love increase. But instead of it being centered on a prince and princess in a movie, two in love warriors keeping each other alive in a book or a cheesy love song on the radio, it was a different type of love Roman was finally starting to feel the more he accepted himself.

Self love.

Reblog’s >>>> likes

#ya'll really thought you'd get through pride month without me projecting onto roman? #while not everything in this story applies to me the vast majority of this is based of my irl experience #so this was a lot of fun for me to write #and if you're aro and have a different experience that's so valid #sander sides #pridewrite2021 #fanfic #pw 6 #tw panic attack #tw cursing #tw questioning #tw unrequited love #roman sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #unrequited royality #platonic roceit #dukeceit #demus #romantic dukeceit #romantic demus #aro roman #aromantic roman

[lovemybluebully]

Danger Room Level 1

Posted this at the beginning of the year on my DA account. Thought I’d throw it up on here. This was my first Wolverine tickle pic in 4 years! O_O

https://www.deviantart.com/lovemybluebully/art/Danger-Room-Level-1-865337680

Wrote a little story to go along with it.

Story is below the ‘Keep Reading’ line.

*/M Tickle Fic (Obviously lol) "Any other surprise challenges for me today, bub? Or is that all ya got?" Wolverine smirked confidently up at the team leader of the X-men, glancing over his shoulder at the pile of rubble consisting of destroyed weaponry and dismembered sentinels and robots of all sizes. Cyclops only sighed as he shook his head and looked down at the Canadian brawler from the control room of their training facility, having exhausted almost every combination of attacks that he could think to throw at him.

These scenarios of Wolverine slicing and dicing up every obstacle and foe were quite predictable and honestly getting a tad boring to watch over and over. Scott decided it was time to try something a little different. "No, this just isn't working. These upper level programs are just all foreseeable for you. Lets try something new. I say we scrap everything and start over from scratch. How about we start you at level 1?"

Logan's smirk disappeared as he frowned up at the other man. "Level 1? Yer kiddin' me, right? That's the program the Professor uses to train the kiddies."

"Trust me Logan it'll be perfect for you. Since you've always skipped over the bottom levels you'll have no idea what they contain so you won't be able to predict them so easily. Hell I don't even know myself exactly what is on each level, but lets give it a shot! Maybe we'll both learn something." Scott actually wasn't lying since he himself had been too competent for those beginner programs when he had joined the X-men. It was likely that Logan would just blow right through them, but he was curious and quite frankly desperate for a change of pace. "Fine. But this is gonna be just a waste o' time," Logan grumbled as he lazily stretched out his arms and cracked his neck. "Don't underestimate the Danger Room and dismiss this program so easily. It may be aimed towards the less experienced, but should still provide its own formidable experience. Remember to stay alert and don't let your guard down." Wolverine just scoffed and blew off his advice like he normally did. "Yeah whatever Slim. Lets get on with it."

"Ok great. Now just a moment here. I'm initiating level 1....," Scott uttered with some fast typing on the control board before pressing one final button, "Now." They waited for a few quiet moments, but nothing happened. Logan was about to quip some sarcastic remark when finally the Danger Room began to show some activity. A compartment on the wall opened and two gloved robotic hands being controlled by metal tentacles began to slowly make their way over to him. Logan snorted in disbelief and shook his head as he looked over the two appendages and noted that they were not holding any kinds of weapons; basically looking completely harmless.

"That's it? This is ridiculous. What's next, a pillow fight? Not that I expected this crap to be any kinda challenge whatsoever," Logan rolled his eyes as he raised his hands into the air and released his deadly claws; ready to dispatch the advancing robot hands with a quick swipe once they closed in. Not even a second later he quickly found his arms ensnared as two metal tentacles had crept in from behind to successfully restrain him much to Logan's shock. He growled as he tried to slice at the tentacles with his sharp claws, but they firmly held his arms away from each other just above his head. The distraction had been just enough that he barely had time to notice that the gloved hands had now reached him as one of them wasted not a moment to grab hold of the hem of his uniform's shirt and roughly jerk it upwards, exposing his bare stomach.

"Hey! What is...?!" He shouted in confusion; his words cut off as the other hand immediately shot forward and buried it's furiously wriggling digits right into his muscular belly.

Logan hadn't listened to Scott. He had let his guard down completely when he had seen this "threat" first enter the room. His overconfidence was now going to be his downfall for mocking the capabilities of the robot hand; the hand that was now ruthlessly tickling him. This tactic was a complete shock to him, and having not put up any of his mental defenses in preparation the laughter exploded out of him as soon as contact was made. "Ahahahaahaa! Wha-Whahahat's goin' ohohohon?! Stahahap thaaat!" He howled out at the mindless hand that relentlessly continued tickling all over his sensitive abdomen; the other hand holding his shirt securely out of the way. Scott too was in complete awe by just what method the program had decided to use, though he couldn't help but grin as he saw the situation that his normally cantankerous teammate was now in. It was already a known fact by the mansion's inhabitants that Logan was surprisingly ticklish as his female team members found it quite endearing and took great delight in ganging up on the burly mutant at times. Heightened senses did have their drawbacks. Still nothing that Scott himself would partake in, knowing that while Logan might put up with it from the ladies he was pretty sure he'd be skewered on the spot if he even made a hint at attempting such a thing. In a way he now felt that he had a sense of power in having Logan in this position. "See? That's what happens when you underestimate the situation, now get to work Logan. Tickling probably isn't a real world offensive that you're going to run into, but no harm in being extra prepared." Wolverine's claws remained out, but he couldn't move his arms enough to free himself. Unable to think straight he continued to fail in his efforts to come up with a strategy to get out of this aside from yelling up at the amused operator in the control room. "Cyyyykehehehee! Tuhuhurn thihis shihihihiiit ohahahahoff!!" Arms bulging he thrashed uselessly in the grip of the tentacles, trying to block the torturous hand from his body by lifting his knee to no avail. He'd been tickled worse than this before, but never had he been this helpless to defend himself. Meanwhile Scott mused over the scene before him. It in fact was a little stupid to be messing with one of the world's deadliest mutant's like this, and he was pretty sure there would be Hell to pay later. His hand hovered momentarily over the button to shut down the Danger Room, but then he pulled back. "No, I think you just need a little more time to figure this out. I have faith in you. I mean, this program is only used to train the 'kiddies', right?" Yup. He was pretty sure Logan was going to kill him after this. "Fuhuhuhuck yooooouuuu!!" Logan cackled as he desperately tried to regain some kind of focus though was only barely able to retract his claws back into his hands, knowing that they were of no use. "Aw c'mon Logan. You're not that ticklish, are you? Can't resist just one little hand tickling you?" Scott couldn't help but tease a bit, having on more than one occasion seen Logan nearly lose his mind from just having his stomach tickled by his teenage sidekick, Jubilee. No sooner had he said that when a third hand began to move in from out of Logan's sight before grabbing the squirming mutant right below his ribs as the fingers playfully dug in over and over again.

"Bwahahahahahahahahaa!! Noooo!! Gehehet 'em offa meeheeheehee!!" Roaring with laughter from the added torture Logan was regretting not taking the lowest level of the Danger Room more seriously. With his arms being held out of the way he couldn't even use them to help guard his body no matter how hard he pulled to free them. It wasn't much longer before his legs began to weaken as he attempted to sink to the floor to hopefully get him a split second of reprieve.

He was allowed to move to the ground, but the hands were unrelenting. With a firm tug the restraining tentacles around his forearms pulled him down onto his back as a few more hands now appeared seemingly out of nowhere to join in tickling under his arms and the other side of his ribcage.

"No!! No!! Stahahahap ihihihihit!! Lemme outtahahaha heeheeheeeere!!" The Wolverine howled as he kicked and squirmed like crazy; his armpits being one of his worst spots. Two other metal tentacles quickly slithered over and grabbed onto each leg to stretch him out and prevent him from curling up in defense. Tears crept out of the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard as so far he had made no progress in getting loose. "Very disappointing Logan. I thought for sure you'd have passed all these lower levels with ease. Well it seems we've uncovered your true weakness. Something that your healing factor won't protect you from. We'll probably have to repeat this level over and over until you get it right," Scott grinned wider, only half serious as he liked to push Logan's buttons at any given opportunity. He was hardly listening though; too focused on the incessant tickle torture. Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse two additional hands made their way over and quickly tugged off his boots, revealing his twitching bare feet as Logan's eyes bulged in panic. "HEY!! Hey hey waahaahaait a m...minute!! No don't!! Not the-AAAHAHAHHAHAHA!!" Fingers wildly scratched at his tender soles, tickling from his wide heels to up under his curled up toes with not a thing he could do to stop them. He was laughing harder than he'd ever had as the tears began to roll down his cheeks. He absolutely could not handle having his feet tickled and once had accidentally kicked Rogue for trying. Luckily she is a tough woman though she used it as an excuse to really punish him with his ankles trapped in the crook of her super strong arm while Logan hysterically cried 'Uncle'. This was more than he could stand. Being spread out and tickled in all his most sensitive spots at once with no way to guard himself was where he drew the line. He loathed the thought of what he was about to do, but he couldn't hold back the frantic pleas that came pouring out. "NAAAHAHAHAHAHOOOO!! N-NO MORE!! STOPSTOP!! PLEEHEEHEEEEASE!! I CAN'T..HAHAHAHAHAA..CAAHAAHAAN'T T-TAKE THIHIHIIS SHIIIIIT!!" Scott was just enjoying the show as he chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "Wow. Who knew? All one has to do to defeat Wolverine is to tickle him and he'll be begging for mercy. Better hope none of your enemies ever find out about this one."

And with that he finally pushed the button to shut down the currently running program in the Danger Room. He'd have been more than happy to let it keep going, but even he could feel some sympathy for his frenemy and knew once he started begging that he had had enough. Logan instantly panted in relief as the hands all stopped tickling him while he was gently released from the restraints, everything then retracting back into the chambers that they had emerged from. A giggle escaped him here and there as he still had a phantom feeling of the fingers all over on his body.

Scott slowly clapped his hands in jest from the control room as he grinned down at the seemingly lifeless body. "Not bad, Logan! I think you almost had it there, but I'm sure you'll do better next time! So what do you think? Ready for level 2?"

The middle claw that immediately popped out of Logan's fist crudely gave him his answer.

#tickling #tickletorture #tickle #ticklish!wolverine #ticklish!logan #wolverine #loganhowlett #xtas #dangerroom #ticklefic #scottsummers #cyclops #marvel #tickleart

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/30-10/31 (IT AIN’T OVER YET!): DISCONNECTED (1984) + PERSONAL SHOPPER

One night on a double date at a local night club, sweet, shy Alicia (Frances Raines) tries to tell the foursome about a strange experience she has had that day: She let an old man into her apartment to use her telephone, but he mysteriously vanished before she could let him back out. Her friends are not interested. Her boyfriend Mark (director Gorman Bechard), a smug radio DJ, dismisses her story as some sort of misunderstanding, and her vivacious twin Barbara Ann (Raines) cuts her off entirely by flirting openly with Mark, insinuating that she was with him that afternoon. This is the last straw in what appears to be an ongoing problem for Alicia. Outside in Mark's car, she refuses to accept his denial of sleeping with Barbara Ann, beginning an agonizing breakup process that drags out for days. Even at her job, Alicia can't seem to establish any personal boundaries; an awkward young stranger called Franklin (Mark Walker) visits during her shift at the video store, and reveals that he doesn't even own a tape player--he just found out who she was and where she worked from other club patrons the previous evening. Alicia rebuffs his unseemly advances at first, but with the insulting drama still festering between Mark and her manipulative sister, loneliness sets in. She could use some company to help insulate her anyway, since their town is plagued by a killer of young women...and stranger still, Alicia's telephone has taken on a mind of its own, broadcasting otherworldly sounds into her apartment, slowly driving her mad. She has a difficult decision to make about who or what she can trust, but it may be that there is no correct choice.

Gorman Bechard's atmospheric 1984 oddity DISCONNECTED follows in the footsteps of CARNIVAL OF LOST SOULS, joining a subset of subdued psychological thrillers about women alone. In Herk Harvey's 1962 classic, Candace Hilligoss plays Mary Henry, a withdrawn young woman who moves far from home after a traumatic accident. Where she hoped to find peace, she is stalked by a spectral male figure, and receives no help from the locals, who are all suspicious or covetous of her. The boundary between the living and the dead begins to dissolve, mirroring her increasingly ambivalent relationships with other human beings. Mary is torn between her longing for solitude and her fear of impending doom, having to choose between an intrusive suitor, and being left alone with her cadaverous stalker. Mary's unforgettable journey through her desolate surroundings, her isolation interrupted only by enemies both open and hidden, describes an experience that many female viewers have found familiar. Social life portends various threats--judgmental elders who pick at your morals and appearance, jealous females, emotionally and physically violent males--while solitude offers obliterating blankness, like a desert whose expansive monotony renders meaningless the defining lines of past, future, and self. In modern times, this distinctly female experience is complicated by the evolution of personal communication media. The telephone in particular--which has been historically and rather demeaningly associated with girls--is both a channel through which to reach out and touch someone, and an opening through which unwanted attention can insinuate itself into our lives. Two years ago, I saw DISCONNECTED--a loopy microbudget slasher movie from Waterbury, Connecticut--and one of my first thoughts was that it was somehow just like PERSONAL SHOPPER, Olivier Assayas' heady cyberpunk-flavored thriller from 2016, in which a servant to the stars receives threatening text messages from someone who may or may not be among the living. I've been trying to put the two together in writing ever since.

In PERSONAL SHOPPER, Kristen Stewart plays introverted American Maureen, the virtual slave of supermodel Kyra (Nora von Waldstatten). Maureen is a stranger in a strange land, travelling relentlessly around Europe to procure garments and jewels for her boss in Paris, and on her personal time, conducting a psychic survey of her late brother Lewis's mansion. Twin mediums Maureen and Lewis promised one another that whoever died first would send the other a sign from across the divide; Maureen has been waiting since his untimely heart attack for him to hold up his end of the bargain. So far she has only witnessed some scattered poltergeitic activity, along with the manifestation of a ferocious, unknown female specter, but the clock is ticking, as the manse is mid-sale to Lewis’ friends. Furthermore, it is her employment with the tyrannical Kyra that allows her to stay in Paris and wait for a sign from Lewis, so Maureen’s freedom also is dependent on the resolution of this situation. When she meets Kyra's arrogant lover Ingo (Lars Eidinger), he inappropriately insists that he can get her a better job elsewhere, but she explains that she can't change her life until she has closure with her brother. Shortly after this unpleasant encounter, Maureen begins to receive intrusive texts from an unknown caller. Due to her unusual relationship to the dead, she can't be sure if her new stalker is a part of her world, or not.

PERSONAL SHOPPER has very much the flavor of William Gibson’s speculative fiction novel Pattern Recognition, in "cool hunter” Cayce Pollard has the extra-sensory ability to detect what new designs will become popular next. Cayce’s special power manifests as a crippling allergy, and so she tries to remain in timeless, fashion-neutral clothes and settings whenever possible. Psychic Maureen feels a similar kind of existential ambivalence toward the super luxe materials she excels at curating for her client.

Maureen spends much of her screen time alone. Most of her personal contacts are with salespeople; she virtually never sees Kyra in person, and her boyfriend Gary (Ty Olwin) lives in Oman, which may as well be another world. Her chief relationship is to her dead brother, who is literally in another world, and who responds with frustrating ambiguity to her pleas for a clear message, even as his mansion rumbles with unexplainable activity. This void of connection seems somehow related to Maureen's tenuous sense of personal identity. With no close connections, she cannot accurately detect her own contours. Maureen is totally sublimated into Kyra's life, simply an extremity that grasps for whatever Kyra needs. At the same time, she is subject to Lewis's will, unable to make any moves--even to protect herself--until her late brother deigns to give her peace. Maureen's identity is entirely determined by other people, including the mystery caller who lures her into a confessional conversation with him. Although this third figure is the most predatory of them all, he is also the one who teases out the threads of Maureen's fraying individuality. When she admits to trying on Kyra's clothing, just because she's not allowed to, he entices her to stay in Kyra's bed while she's away, further feeling out her own limits. This is the only way Maureen can establish a self that is independent of the context of others: by violating the taboos established by those others. The rule-breaking method of finding oneself is an integral part of the human condition, as explained by media theorist Marshall McLuhan in a discussion of the self in the age of social media:

"Yes, all forms of violence are quests for identity. When you live out on the frontier, you have no identity. You are a nobody. Therefore, you get very tough. You have to prove that you are somebody. So you become very violent. Identity is always accompanied by violence. This seems paradoxical to you? Ordinary people find the need for violence as they lose their identities. It is only the threat to people’s identity that makes them violent. Terrorists, hijackers - these are people minus identity. They are determined to make it somehow, to get coverage, to get noticed."     

By breaking Kyra's rules just on principle, Maureen moves toward self-actualization. Unfortunately, this comes at a cost, as the mystery caller who encourages this process wants to possess her just as much as Kyra and Lewis already do.

Maureen's phone has become a ouija board-like portal to another plane, through which alien forces can cross over and affect our fate. In DISCONNECTED, Alicia suffers from a similar problem. Alicia's social isolation, and the increasingly meaningless division between life and death for her, is underlined by the fact that she lives on the edge of a cemetery. Her phone is her connection to the world--to the ambiguous Franklin, to her sister who she can neither accept nor reject, to Mark who she can't quite leave behind. She can't get rid of this device, even when it starts to ring almost constantly, with a horrifying, vaguely vocal-sounding barrage of electronic noise on the other end. As in PERSONAL SHOPPER, Alicia is largely seen alone, pacing in her apartment, wandering teary-eyed in the depopulated streets of Waterbury, and eyeing her phone with nervous anticipation. She finds herself living out an appalling version of the classic Twilight Zone episode "Night Call," in which Elva, an old widow longing for her late husband, is harassed by increasingly disturbing phone calls from beyond the grave. Like Elva and Maureen, Alicia also suffers from the conflation of companionship and otherworldly threat: Just as she doesn't understand the source of the distorted calls, she also doesn't know that Franklin--her potential savior from this dark chapter of her life--is a serial murderer, planning to have her for his next victim. When Barbara Ann makes a move on him, perpetuating the cycle of sororal abuse that started with Mark, Franklin kills her instead, removing one of Alicia’s few contacts with the rest of humanity.

BTW, even though Alicia eventually takes a liking to Franklin (center), her experience at the video store--here, trapped between an aggressive suitor and a similarly aggressive porn consumer--forms the most realistic portrait of retail hell for girls that I have ever seen in my life. When Franklin first arrives, announcing that a) the movies there aren’t good enough for his refined tastes, b) he doesn’t even own a video player, and c) he’s only there because he’s stalked Alicia from her local watering hole, his intensely condescending attitude and presupposing come-ons gave me a hardcore PTSD reaction from the many years I spent behind the counter of a comic book store. Yuck.

While Alicia doesn't understand what is happening until it's almost too late, Maureen's situation escalates horrifically when her latest jewelry delivery brings her face to face with Kyra's mutilated corpse. As she reels from this gruesome sight, she also detects a malevolent presence vibrating deeper in the apartment that sends her fleeing in terror. When she goes to the police, her mystery caller suddenly becomes more sinister, demanding to know whether she has told the cops about him. In short order, the caller tries to blackmail her into meeting him in a hotel room, but this climactic union is circumvented by the police: It was Ingo guiding Maureen's journey of self-discovery, and Ingo who killed Kyra. The revelation is enormously painful, not because Ingo is so important, but because he managed to victimize Maureen using her most uniquely personal characteristic: her relationship to the supernatural. She believed that something personally significant was happening to her, according to her special understanding of the world, but she was merely being preyed upon by a violent narcissist. Her profound belief in her own paranormal sensitivity--the one thing she is sure of, that distinguishes her from others--is what made her vulnerable to the insistent texts begin with: She wondered if it was Lewis texting her. Ingo exploits Maureen's convictions about herself to perpetrate a deadly fraud, leaving her violated and humiliated. Even though we witness the presence of an unseen entity (Lewis? Kyra?) moving through the hotel, perhaps influencing Ingo's capture, Maureen is left to suffer for being gullible and vulnerable, to mourn her own privacy.

Of course, Maureen's journey is not over yet, and Alicia receives a similar shock with a full half an hour to go in DISCONNECTED. She is rescued by her own screams on her last date with Franklin, as the sounds of their skirmish draw the police to his apartment where they summarily execute Alicia's would-be killer. Now she is left with almost no worldly connections at all--save for the malign presence that keeps calling her phone, blasting her with waves of mind-melting noise. To make matters worse, there seems to be a new victim in the rash of murders previously tied to the late Franklin. Alicia plunges into a spiral of nihilistic despair, in which her closest relationship is with her conniving ex--mediated by the phone, and by his radio show where he dedicates songs to her--second only to the mystery caller who dials her number several times an hour. Craving a human connection, Alicia eventually relents and lets Mark take her out again, and things seem to be on the upswing...until Alicia returns home to find that something worse than electronic fuzz has entered her home, to put an end to her misery. We don't share her final vision, but we do see the mysterious old man (William Roberts) from the beginning of the movie, the fellow she let in to use her telephone, strolling into the cemetery--presumably, from whence he came.

Like Alicia in the aftermath of Franklin’s death, Maureen also has to find a new way to survive after an episode of shocking violence. For Maureen, the only way through is out. As she prepares to leave Lewis' mansion, she encounters his widow's new beau, Erwin (Anders Danielsen Lie). This encounter crystalizes the movie's themes regarding time. Early in PERSONAL SHOPPER, Maureen is turned on to the visionary paintings of Hilma af Klint, a 19th century painter who claimed that she made her art at the behest of ghosts. She mandated that her work only be revealed to the public after her death, creating a communication channel between the deep past and the distant future. Maureen argues with her doctor about the future; he insists that her brother's heart attack was purely anomalous, but Maureen sees no reason why the same thing couldn't happen to her. She sees no future for herself, and is chained to the past by the ghost of her brother, who withholds the spiritual message that would allow her to move on. Lewis thought a lot about the future, Maureen remarks cynically to her doctor, despite the fact that he was ultimately deprived of one. Later, Lewis' widow Lara (Sigrid Bouaziz) explains that she feels the future is in flux and unknowable--a desirable quality, in her book--and so she is moving on to be with Erwin. So, when Maureen encounters Erwin on her final night in Paris, they have a pointed conversation about the shackles of the past and the fossilizing force of guilt on one's life. Lewis's ghost cruelly teases Maureen at the end of the scene, demanding attention but refusing to reveal himself. With nothing to show for her devotion to her brother, she flees Europe.

In both DISCONNECTED and PERSONAL SHOPPER, the archetype of the twins is used to describe opposing states of being, and the threat of having one’s life usurped by another version of oneself. Alicia's sister Barbara Ann is lively, sensuous, and self-serving: everything that Alicia is unable to be, and the consumer of everything Alicia wants for herself. With her unrealistic desires for honesty and compassion, Alicia is the more death-oriented twin: cut off from social life, deprived of pleasure by more ambitious people, and vulnerable to parasitic attacks from both sides of the mortal veil. Alicia even dreams of Barbara Ann murdering her, and literally taking her place in bed with Mark. Maureen's twin Lewis is described by his survivors as passionate and living on the strength of his own convictions; Although Maureen still lives, she is inert, somehow chained to him, slavishly waiting for him to grant her release, though he is content to torment and manipulate her. The protagonists of both films are subjugated to these duplicates who refuse to stay on their side.

Maureen flees to Oman to reunite with her boyfriend Gary--heretofore only a pixelated image in a video chat who begs her to give up her commitment to the kingdom of death, insisting that only the material world exists and is waiting to embrace her. Of course, when Maureen arrives in Gary's placid and spartan world at what may as well be the end of the universe, her problems have followed her. We will never see Gary in the flesh; he has left a written note of welcome for Maureen, which she reads just as she detects a supernatural presence in his dwelling. Hoping against hope that Lewis is finally reaching out to her, she asks out loud: “Is it you? Are you at peace? Are you not at peace? ...Or is it just me?” And, hauntingly, she hears a ghostly knock in the affirmative for every question.

The ambiguity of this ending has troubled some viewers, although multiple interpretations present themselves which are not mutually exclusive. In the most literal sense, Maureen can be seen as a terminally frustrated Carrie White-like figure who causes material disturbances with the power of her own inner turmoil. The paranormal phenomena she perceives are, indeed, “just her”. On a more metaphorical level, we can see that Maureen is haunted by her own grief, over her brother, and also over her failure to forge a life of her own. In her mind, her brother was a superior life force to which she remains subservient; she identified herself entirely as a receiver for his message, and without his active participation in her life, she loses all sense of purpose. She scrutinizes ghostly disturbances and the spiritual conduit of the telephone to inform her place in the world. Without an internal, independent reason for being, people like herself, and like Alicia, are forever haunted.

#blogtober #2020 #disconnected #disconnected 1984 #personal shopper #olivier assayas #frances raines #kristen stewart #lars eidinger #sigrid bouaziz #mark walker #anders danielsen lie #ty olwin #horror #supernatural #viral media #phone horror #slasher #mystery #ghost #haunted house #gorman bechard

[lins-fandom-hub]

09/01/1998 (1)

Part 1 || Part 2

Here’s part 1 of a 2-part fic that I wrote that commemorates Clara’s Hogwarts friends/peers lost to battle against the forces of evil.

The concept of time was humankind’s greatest enigma. It cared not about what happens in the life of any one person. Like the river in the wood, it flowed, knowing not of the stones overturned or the sediments caught in its current. Once a mark had been made, there was no erasing it; once a phenomenon had come to pass, there was no reverting it to what once was.

Time was supposed to help the dust settle over the ruins. Thoroughly damaged beyond repair, yet shrouded in the remnants of what once transpired, the image of what history left behind would only be made clearer after time had passed. Time was supposed to help the physical cuts heal. The open lacerations seeping blood through the flesh would have scabbed and closed with patches of new skin depending on how deep the wound was. Even as they happened, though, time would never let anyone forget the phenomenon that had ensued. Time didn’t care how anyone healed, grieved, smiled, or cried.

Time certainly didn’t care how anyone lived or died.

Clara closed her fingers over her wand and stood from her chair, empty eyes that once bore tears lingering on the sunny scenery outside her window. All those years ago, she had prayed for a sunny day to greet her on the day she departed home for Hogwarts, and every year, it had always been either cloudy or rainy--she even remembered the stormy day that commenced her third year all too well. A small sigh escaped her lips as she looked at the clock by her writing desk--it was 9:00 am. If she was still a student, she’d be travelling right now in one of the Ministry cars her father borrowed from the Ministry with him to King’s Cross Station, her mind abuzz solely with plans to find Jacob and bring him home. If she was still in China, she’d be drilled through military exercises set by the captain of the Chinese Wizarding Task Force without a single thought of her past. Those days were long gone, though--the past was now behind her. Today was a special day, but not for a good reason. Today, she and what remained of her circle of friends would throw a special celebration in memory of all the friends who had fallen, and all of those who sacrificed their lives to help Harry Potter defeat Voldemort at Hogwarts.

Merlin...the Battle of Hogwarts seemed so long ago. It had taken so long for the dust to settle over the relics, but she couldn’t move past the horror that she had witnessed. Her chest ached as visions began to swim in her mind--the corpses of her friends lying in the rubble, the crack of every spell relentlessly attacking those who still remained standing. She recalled the number of spells she had to deflect with her steel fans from the Task Force when her protective barriers shattered, the triangle of Death Eaters surrounding her at once threatening her to collapse. If she closed her eyes, she could see every misfired curse shattering the stone walls, tossing bodies back as if they were only rag dolls…

The soothing touch of her fiance’s fingers tracing over her arm eased her breathing, but it did nothing to stop the tears pricking at her eyes again.

“What are you thinking about, Clara?” Barnaby asked her quietly, gently wrapping his strong arms around her from behind and holding her close to him. She could only hum as she leaned back into his chest, exhaling quietly as the tears spilled over her cheeks.

“It’s the Battle, is it?”

Clara nodded. “Well...sort of.” She opened her eyes, turning to face her fiance. “There was something Dumbledore told me so long ago, back when we were still sixth years. He said that if there was one thing anyone could count on, it’s death. It comes for everyone in the end. But you know how quickly it took a lot of our friends--Rowan in our sixth year, Cedric the summer before I left for China…”

“I know,” Barnaby murmured, lifting a hand to wipe her tears away. “I know.”

“It’s hard,” Clara whispered. “It’s so hard…”

She buried her face into his shoulder, wrapping her arms tightly around Barnaby as she tried her hardest not to sob. The terror that first gripped at her when she fought apart from him snaked its way back into her chest, not unlike the cursed ice that spread through the school in her second year. Death took so many people she held dear to her over the years, it was a miracle that she still remained standing. Rowan...Ben...Tonks...Fred...Talbott...heck, she couldn’t even begin to believe that Merula was dead, too. Even Dobby and Cedric, whom she didn’t know very well, felt like kin--and yet they too were brutally murdered long before the ultimate siege.

“What do you think they’ll be doing?” Barnaby wondered, tilting his head slightly. “You know, in the world of the dead.”

Clara winced slightly at the question. “I don’t know,” she mumbled eventually. “Maybe look down upon us like angels would.”

“I know Rowan is. She’s your best friend, after all--what best friend wouldn’t want to shield you from harm?” Barnaby said, slowly rubbing a hand over Clara’s back to calm her down.

“To think that everyone went into this battle not trying to protect me for the vaults this time, but fight against the one all wizardkind feared,” Clara mused. “I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. I just hope that what we invited everyone to do today would be enough to finally find closure and…”

Barnaby nodded as she trailed off, tilting her head up with a hand to look her in the eyes. Her glasses were smudged from the tears now streaming over her face.

“I’m sure they will love it,” Barnaby reassured her softly. “Not just all the ones still alive, but those who passed on. I know I would.”

It’s taken Clara weeks to pull herself together after the battle, and even more after that to seek solace from those who still remain. Only a few days ago did she finally settle the date of their wedding, yet it didn’t feel right to celebrate a day of union without sharing it with all their friends, alive or dead.

Two days to go. After that, our lives might change for the better.

She had to hold it together. Not just for them, but for herself too. Closure would not be given to those still vulnerable to breaking.

“Yeah,” she finally murmured, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I would, too.”

---

There was no bachelor and bachelorette party for this couple--heck, they couldn’t imagine the consequences for the other should a disaster occur while they were apart. Instead, a few weeks ago, Clara had sent her owl, Wagner, out into the world with letters for all their friends and loved ones. Today, everyone who was willing to come would Apparate to their house, and then gather in their vast open backyard in the evening where the ceremony would commence. 

“And done,” Barnaby declared as he delicately placed the final cherry on the top of a massive white-iced three-layer cake. A slow grin spread across his face as he looked at his best baking masterpiece--no, it was not their wedding cake, but it looked good enough to be one.

That was when the doorbell rang, and he jumped, almost knocking the cake over.

“I got it!” Clara called, running down the stairs and securing her crimson crystal hair tie around the single braid over her left shoulder. “Just set the parlour up, Barnaby.”

“Will do.” Barnaby nodded and carried the massive cake to the parlour, humming a little tune to himself.

Clara opened the door to reveal Penny and Beatrice now standing at the threshold. Both of them were wearing black dresses that went down to their knees. The plaits that were normally in Penny’s hair were now combed out, her hair now split into two braids down her shoulders. Beatrice’s hair, for the first time since Clara could recall, was held back with a headband, revealing both of her blue eyes cast down with a sad glimmer.

“Clara!” Penny greeted her friend with a hug, which Clara wholeheartedly returned.

“Hey, Penn.”

Time had changed the little girls who became friends in their first year to young adults who had survived more than one war. As they broke the embrace and looked at each other, they both caught the matured gleam now stripped of whatever carefree sparkle once graced their eyes, the tragedies they both withstood in their time at school, the weariness that came with demands that required their individual expertises.

“You hanging in there?” Penny asked Clara quietly. “I know it’s been hard on all of us.”

Clara nodded solemnly. “Trying to. It wasn’t hard when the names in the list of casualties were still unrecognizable, but it’s different now when everyone you knew gave their all to protect the school and the Boy Who Lived. Not to say I regret it--”

“I know what you mean. I’m sure none of them regretted it either,” Penny assured her.

“At least we’re still together,” Clara said with a shrug. “Jacob, little Em and I at least escaped the war unscathed. And you’ve got Beatrice, too.”

Beatrice nodded as she produced another stuffed Puffskein from her pocket--almost similar to the one she gave Clara when they first met--and gave it to her. “Is your sister coming?”

“She should be,” Clara confirmed with a nod. “Do come in, both of you. We have cake and Butterbeer in the parlour, and I think Barnaby should almost be finished with grooming the Puffskeins.”

The second one to arrive, much to Clara’s surprise, was Skye Parkin, her Wigtown Wanderers jersey billowing in the wind as she hopped off her Comet 290 in front of their house.

“Skye!” Clara exclaimed upon her arrival. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it, what with training for your upcoming tournaments.”

“This means a lot to you, doesn’t it? I might as well be there for it,” Skye responded shortly, giving Clara a small smile. “Besides, one of our Chasers recently came down with a serious bout of Scrofungulus. We don’t have any backup players to properly play against the Applewood Arrows today.”

“Oh. That’s a bummer. You wish I was there to step up to the plate?” Clara asked, remembering fondly her short tenure as Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

“It would be nice. But I figured you need time to...you know,” Skye said uneasily, and Clara nodded in understanding.

Shortly after Skye went in to help herself to some of Barnaby’s cake and chat with Penny, Andre, Murphy, and Orion made their appearance on Clara’s doorstep. Andre’s Pride of Portree jersey flapped in the wind behind him, in the same manner as Skye’s jersey. Murphy’s colourful tie worn for all his Quidditch commentating duties was swapped today with a black bowtie. Orion was also wearing all black from head to toe.

“I told the staff that I wasn’t feeling well,” Murphy explained. “And I’m not! There’s a 95.7% chance that after such a travesty it’s hard to think of the light ahead.”

“But what is light without darkness?” Orion asked. “It’s with light that we have darkness.”

“Or should it be the other way around?” Andre queried, raising an eyebrow. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re doing this, Curse-breaker. In a time like this, I think we all really need it.”

“Thanks, Andre. And I’m happy to see you’re alive and well too, Murphy and Orion,” Clara said, bowing them into her home where they went to the parlour to meet Penny, Beatrice, Skye and Barnaby. 

Soon, Chiara, Jae, Diego, and little Em all arrived together, the girls holding onto extravagant bouquets of colourful flowers. Jae was holding tightly onto Chiara’s free hand, balancing a large box of delicacies in his other hand. Diego’s fingers were interlaced with little Em’s, his scarf from his old school days wrapped around little Em’s shoulders to keep her warm.

“Darn it. I miss my hoodie already,” Jae muttered, his teeth chattering slightly.

“Relax, Jae. It’ll only be for today,” Chiara consoled him with a small smile before turning towards Clara. “How are you doing, Clara?”

“Faring as well as I can,” Clara simply said, smiling wanly at the group. “Thanks for coming, guys--really, it means a lot.”

“Anything to get to spend time with you, Clara,” little Em reassured her older sister with a hug. “I would not miss my sister’s wedding for anything in the world.”

Diego nodded in agreement as little Em returned to his side shortly after. “Indeed. How swiftly childhood leaves us as we emerge as veterans from a war well fought and won.”

“I just hope that this celebration would mark the first chapter of genuine happiness for all of us,” Chiara finally piped up. “With all that’s happened, I figured we all need it.”

A little while into the afternoon, Tulip, Liz, and Badeea arrived together, Badeea’s hands still smeared with paint as she brought in a giant portrait of their fallen friends. Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy, George, and Angelina followed swiftly, George still trying to hold back tears as he held fast to Angelina’s hand; Clara couldn’t blame him. George didn’t just lose a brother in the battle, after all; he lost his twin, his second half who understood him better than anyone.

How quickly everyone’s grown, Clara realized, as she closed the door behind the Weasleys and followed them into the parlour. Glancing around at her friends grabbing drinks and some of Jae’s homemade delicacies or the cake Barnaby made, talking in low voices among themselves like old friends, she could see the hint of sadness in their eyes along with the gleam of maturity that long replaced the carefree, happy spirit they once felt. They fought more than just one battle, leaving them all with more scars than they’d hoped for--yet through their grief, they remained standing strong. They had weathered through so many storms together that they became the storm themselves.

“Is that everyone?” Chiara asked quietly as she sipped from her bottle of Butterbeer, watching the large crowd mill around the parlour and the kitchen. “Or are we still waiting for a few people?”

Clara frowned as she glanced at the clock--it was now five in the afternoon, and there were still a few last stragglers she had yet to see. “I think we have Ismelda and Jacob to wait for,” she eventually answered. “Jacob I know is with my parents, but Ismelda...I haven’t heard from her since the end of the war.”

“Ismelda’s still alive?” Penny asked, raising a brow and glancing at Beatrice.

“What are you looking at me for?” Beatrice inquired, grabbing another piece of cake from the dainty multi-tiered platter on the table. “I haven’t kept tabs on Ismelda either since I graduated from school.”

CRACK!

A sudden Apparition within the house made everyone jump, Beatrice almost dropping her cake in the shock--when the smoke cleared, Clara saw Ismelda and Erika standing in the middle of the parlour, travelling cloaks fastened tight around them. Ismelda quickly drew her arm away from Erika, massaging her upper arm to rid it of the soreness in the potential death grip.

“Did you have to grip onto me that hard?” Ismelda grumbled, shooting Erika a death glare. “And I thought I already told you I didn’t want to go!”

“I had to do what I could to make sure you got here in one piece,” Erika shrugged. “And if you say another word about this gathering being nothing but a waste of time--”

“Fine, fine.” Ismelda shook her head, a groan escaping her mouth. “Anything to save you from using me as your practice dummy.”

“That’s more like it.” Erika gave her a little smirk, her eyes darting about the rest of the group. “So this is what a party for the dead looks like.”

“Not much of a party so much as it is just a time to come together,” Murphy corrected her. “And it’s a good thing Clara’s hosting this for us. I figured we all needed it.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get this show on the road,” Ismelda finally said. “Is there anything we can do besides just…” She gestured around the room. “Eat cake and drink Butterbeer and mope?”

“Well…” Clara glanced around at the group--it felt a lot like the Circle of Khanna all over again, except this time there was no one else to stand by her for support. The days when Ben and Merula flanked by her were long gone now, both of them now buried in their graves a few feet below. “We prepared a bonfire pit in the backyard, and enough sky lanterns for all of us.”

“Sky lanterns?” Tulip asked, intrigued. “I haven’t seen one of those in so long. They’re part of the ceremony, right?”

“Of course,” Clara nodded. “They’re an integral part, so to say.”

“Nothing’s ever been the same since, well…” Skye glanced awkwardly at the group around her. “I mean, I’m not one to go all mushy but...I can’t imagine all of us losing people we care about so much. And all of you are great people in some way--”

She was suddenly cut off by Penny embracing her in a hug, which Skye returned hesitantly, burying her face into Penny’s shoulder.

“The people who love us never really leave us,” Barnaby piped up then. “I remembered how bad I felt when Rowan died...and then I thought I would lose Clara too when she left for China. But time taught me that they’ll always be here with us no matter where they are. Bright souls will shine like bright stars in the sky, now and forever. I found a lot of comfort in looking at the stars every night.”

These words brought a scarlet dust to Clara’s cheeks, and she smiled at him ruefully as she took his hand, lacing her fingers with his. Whether that was a vow intended for their wedding or not, she would never know, but it was enough for her to make her melt on the spot.

“You’re right,” Bill nodded thoughtfully at Barnaby’s words, taking Fleur’s hand and squeezing it tight. “The stars provide comfort for those who need it most. It’s really in the darkness where we can find the light.”

At this, Andre gave Orion a pointed look, and Orion just shrugged it off, nodding at Bill.

“I suppose there’s really no use in waiting any longer,” Clara eventually said--the sun was just beginning to set, and the group was getting much too large to accommodate indoors. “Let’s all head outside to the backyard. Barnaby, can you lead them? I have...something to collect from upstairs.”

Barnaby nodded at his fiancee, kissing her lightly on the cheek. “Of course, my unicorn.” He then motioned to the rest of the group to follow him. “Come on outside, everyone.”

As everyone filed out, Clara headed towards the stairs and began to ascend two steps a time--the moment she reached the landing she wasted no time in heading to her bedroom and opening the door to her closet. Peering into the mass of fabrics, her eyes landed at the bottom of the cabinet, where a single dagger laid in its black sheath lined with golden dragons, laced through the leather belt she had to wear in her days at the Chinese Wizarding Task Force.

To most, it seemed like a simple ornate dagger, most likely an article of decorum worn by royals in important ceremonies. With a polished ruby pommel at the end of a leather grip hilt, and a few engravings on the blade, it looked insignificant, almost ordinary. But to those who served in the task force it meant so much more--it was a weapon she had used in the fight against the Japanese dark wizards on more than one occasion. Where magic failed, the dagger had helped her lay many a blow on those too fast to hit with a spell, those who resisted the effects of magic in ways she would never know. She fought along those who had also given their life for the cause, fought with the same blade she held now--never a day went by when she didn’t think of them. Some survived, some died, and all for a united cause.

She honoured so many of the unknown dead with this knife strapped to her side. It only seemed fitting that she did it now, too.

“Clara? You coming?”

Clara turned around just as she looped the belt around her waist--standing at the doorway to her room was her little sister, head tilted in intrigue and eyes shining in concern.

“Yeah. Sorry.” Clara adjusted the belt over her clothes and walked over to little Em. “I was just...getting this dagger. Custom to wear it for funerals when I was working with the Chinese Wizarding Task Force.”

“Ah.” Little Em nodded thoughtfully. “Sorry, I should have knocked.”

“No need to apologize.”

It had been much too long since Clara last saw her little sister, her little Em--four months since the end of the Battle where they fought together but not at each other’s side, never getting to see each other after the dust had settled over the ruins and the wounds had all but healed in their natural time. What once were two young children who bonded in a sole promise to protect each other within the walls of Hogwarts were now two women who had no idea how to shield each other from the other side of the world. It was only a miracle that they hadn’t lost the other to the perils of the world turned upside down by none other than Voldemort himself. Moments like these between two sisters bound by blood were far and few in between since then.

“I’ve missed you so much, Clara,” little Em finally admitted. “I was worried about Jacob in the fight but when I heard you were there at Hogwarts too…”

“I thought I’d never see you again, either. I wasn’t sure if I was able to make it out of the war alive,” Clara mumbled. “How, though?”

“Stuck close with Diego. It helps to have a strong dueller at your side,” little Em said. “And you?”

“I was with Tonks at first, but when she was defeated I had to hold my own,” Clara replied. “It wasn’t easy to feel that drive to fight after seeing a casualty right in front of your eyes, but I’ve had enough practice.”

“You shouldn’t have to keep suffering, Clara. I know why you joined the task force in China, but...promise me that at the end of all of this you’ll find some peace and happiness,” little Em pleaded. “All your life you’ve been fighting, and I understand it was for a cause. Just...I don’t want you to break under all the pressure. You have so many people who worry about you, and it would break my heart to find that you’ll never find happiness again at the end of the day.”

“Em.” Clara turned to face her sister now, a small smile on her face. “All I want is to make you happy, to fight for your happiness and safety every day. Knowing that you’re here and you’re happy and safe is enough for me to feel happy and safe.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Little Em smiled, a brief second of relief, before taking her sister’s hand and leading her out of her room. “Come on. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

#it's september 1 here #so here's a fic to commemorate it #the day we honour our fallen friends #new school year right #and it's the mark of a fresh start #hogwarts mystery #hphm #post hphm #hphm clara lin #hphm barnaby lee #hphm em lin #hphm penny haywood #hphm beatrice haywood #hphm skye parkin #hphm andre egwu #hphm orion amari #hphm murphy mcnully #hphm liz tuttle #hphm chiara lobosca #hphm jae kim #hphm diego caplan #hphm tulip karasu #hphm badeea ali #hphm bill weasley #hphm charlie weasley #hphm george weasley #fleur delacour #angelina johnson #hphm percy weasley

[sagesrain]

Katara’s Duality

When I think of Katara, I think of her heart. I think of her caring nature. I also think of her passion. But also I think of the other side of Katara. The one that is holding vengeance, anger, and a tremendous amount of grief, that she is unable to process. In the gang each character has their role. Aang as avatar, and leader, Toph as strength, Sokka as brains, and humour. And Katara to me has always been the heart of the gang. Katara represents love.

Katara is the second- born child to Hakoda and Kya of the southern water tribe. Like Aang, she is the last of her people. Katara was the last remaining water bender in the Southern Water Tribe. Katara and Sokka’s youth, showcased a period of weakness, and devastation for the southern water tribe. The Fire Nation relentlessly attacked them in order to capture and murder their water benders, rendering them nearly incapable to fight back. Though their attacks diminished since they had effectively seized all of the water benders, when Katara was eight, the fire-benders would invade the tribe. For the final time they demanded the last water bender of the tribe. In that moment Kya sacrificed herself in order to protect her daughter, claiming that she was the last water bender alive in the Southern Water Tribe. This would result in her capture, and later her death. Several years later, their father, Hakoda would also leave to fight in the war, leaving his son and daughter as protectors of their diminished home.

Early on we are shown Katara’s role. Due to her mother’s absence, she was quickly forced into the role as a mother figure not only to Sokka, but to the entire tribe. Her life in the Southern Water Tribe was cut out for her. Help raise the children and protect Gran-Gran and the other elders. Katara had accepted this life, up until She and Sokka discovered the boy in the Iceberg. When Aang told her who he was, not only was she in it to help him, this was a way for Katara to revisit the idea of water bending. She could learn how to become a waterbending master. Which would in turn help her father, and avenge her mother.

Katara’s development as a bender is shown throughout season 1, and her role as mother of the group and invaluable member comes to light in the second season. Katara displays her immense will, and fearlessness when challenging Master Pakku which is illustrated by an iconic line, when she says:

This displays Katara’s unwavering will, stubbornness, and passion that would help her in becoming a waterbending master.

Katara’s love and care are shown all over the show, and even in greater detail when it comes Aang. Already in the first episode she displays her aptitude for heloung people. And by the third episode she showed her compassion, after Aang sees the bodies of his fellow Nomads. She would later become the person that can calm Aang down when moments like these arise, like in earth kingdom desert, after Appa is stolen; and Towards Toph, and Sokka she tries to make sure they are fed, and doing well.

This care makes me think of a specific statement by Sokka, where he says:

“I'm not sure I can remember what my mother looked like. It really seems like my whole life, Katara's been the one looking out for me. She's always been the one that's there. And now, when I try to remember my mom, Katara's is the only face I can picture.”

The young water bender has been tending to a small tribe ever since she was eight. Katara would later be known to be the greatest healer in the world. Katara is the literal embodiment of care.

However, all of this care, and love she provides, masks her pain, and grief. It masks her hidden anger.

Katara and Sokka were forced to protect their tribe at 14 and 16 years old, against Zuko’s team. An untrained waterbender, and an inexperienced leader. Their mother had died, and shortly after their father left to defend the tribe. A necessary sacrifice, one that Katara had not forgiven Hakoda for. The first episode of the third season would begin to shift the tone to a more serious one, which brings us to one of my favourite scenes of the episode, involving Hakoda, and Katara:

“Aang. He just took his glider and disappeared. He has this ridiculous notion that he has to save the world alone, that it's all his responsibility…I understand why you left. I really do, and I know that you had to go, so why do I still feel this way? I'm so sad and angry and hurt!”

This scene was very interesting to me because of the timing of it. Katara and Hakoda had been together for a few weeks now, and it seemed as if this burden was being held off, and this was portrayed by Katara’s behaviour towards her father during the episode. However Aang running away was so abrupt and uncalled for, that it seemed to trigger such intense feelings from Katara. It’s important to remember, that weeks before this Azula had taken Aang’s life, and this time she wasn’t there with the spirit water from the Oasis to save him. This feeling of possibly losing someone she loved again, led the young waterbender to her breaking point. Katara was never given the chance to properly lash out, to properly feel. Being forced into the role of mother of the tribe was a decision that she had no power over. Katara carried a heavy emotional burden up until this point. Helping Aang’s trauma, being the mother to her older brother and tribe, and being the loving mother to Toph, never gave Katara the time to feel. The time to be a grieving kid, who lost her mother. Seeing the powerful waterbender finally breakdown, finally let herself go, and feel, truly resonated with me.

Throughout that episode, as stated Katara showed a bitterness towards Hokoda. Which spawns a discussion about Katara’s untrustworthy Nature, that was also fed into, earlier during the crossroads of destiny episode. When locked into the crystal catacombs with the seemingly changed Zuko, the two of them shared an intimate moment, where she considered using the oasis spirit water on Zuko’s scar. Zuko would claim that destiny was in his hands, and that he was free to carve his own destiny. As he did when he chose to fight Katara and Aang, and join Azula, right after his time with Katara. This would create a rift for when Zuko tried to join the gang. Which I will touch upon later.

Many times I have stated that characters have their own crossroads of destiny, when they have to make important decisions in their lives. At this point in her journey, the darkness within the young waterbender had reached its peak. During the Southern Raiders episode, the moment Zuko mentions the people who killed their mother, Katara’s anger activates like a switch, even propelling her to tell Sokka that he didn’t love her mother like she did. When seeing the man she thought was the killer, she even blood bends him, using the very same bending art that she hated. When Katara was finally faced her mother’s killer, she was overthrown by darkness, and vengeance. When she heard the man’s voice, her blood boiled. Though, when it was time to finish him, to avenge her mother, Katara couldn’t bring herself to it. Katara chose the path of mercy, even when she really did not want to. With this decision, Katara’s development was finally finished, her arc was completed, by saying these words; “I don’t know if I was too weak to do it, or strong enough not to.” Katara was indeed strong enough not to kill him.

Finally, to Aang, Katara represents his heart. Upon meeting Katara, the young avatar didn’t know that he had lost his entire family. When it came time to visit his old home, and see his old comrades, and his mentor’s bodies stacked up on top of each other, we could only imagine the loneliness Aang felt. Katara would be the one person that tethered Aang to the world, the one person who would be by his side even until his death. As Guru Pathik says, Air Nomad’s love for him has no left the world, but instead has manifested itself in a new person, Katara.

In the end, Katara’s moral compass was realigned, to the one of her lover’s. Through Aang’s irresistible spirit, and teachings, and what I believe to be her mother’s kind heart, coupled with her own passion and resolve Katara spared Yon Rha, and chose the path of good. Her duality was erased. Katara didn’t forgive Yon Rha that day, but a person she did forgive that day was Zuko, and a very important forgiveness. Even though Zuko was forgiven by everyone, and even helped rescue her father, Katara at point gave ZUko a chance. And he repaid it by nearly killing Aang. Forgiving ZUko was a big step for her; as Zuko would become a second brother who she would fight alongside and he would show his love for her by risking his life for the young water bender.

Katara of the water tribe, represents the element of water perfectly. As stated by Iroh, water is the element of change, and the people of the water tribe adapt to their surroundings. They have a strong sense of community, and love. Katara has embodied the nature of the water tribe. Under pressure, Katara stood strong, and took care of the tribe, when no one else could. And with the love instilled to her by her community, she communicated this love back to the people who needed it most. Her brother of course, but also to the lonely Aang who lost his family. And to Toph, who’s family didn’t understand the real her.

Katara of the water tribe represents a very human character. A girl who has real flaws, but makes up for it with her strengths. Katara can be described as resilient, caring, and most of all, incredibly loving.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #gif #avatar #aang #katara #katara of the water tribe #sokka #atla katara #southern water tribe #water tribe #waterbender #cartoon #nickelodeon

[rogerinathehystericalqueen]

idk if you still want a smutty prompt but i’d love to see like a full pegging roger imagine, he begs for it, he goes absolutely wild and is like crying with pleasure and his moans oh god and then he rewards the f!reader

Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT, cursing.

Word count: 1,984 (my hand slipped)

Roger didn’t mean for you to find it. In fact, he had no idea how he was going to tell you. It was one of his biggest fantasies, but he just wasn’t sure how you’d take it.

However, he didn’t even need to tell you before you found out. Of course, you had your suspicions. Recently, Roger had seemed a bit different in bed. Where you would usually be begging him, he would be begging you. It seemed the only words that could leave his bitten lips were asking you to fuck him harder. He seemed in an entirely different world whenever you sunk down onto him and rode him until he was sobbing from pleasure. Some nights, even going as far as to wrap your hand around his throat or pull on his hair roughly.

And now you had your confirmation. Roger was away at the studio. He had been extremely busy for weeks. And now, their album was almost finished. They called it Sheer Heart Attack. You were enjoying a lazy day at home. You had the house to yourself and you just got to relax with some quiet alone time. After a while though, there seemed to be nothing to do, so you started rummaging around some drawers and cabinets In search of a cure for your boredom. And that’s when you found it. In one of the bathroom cabinets, you saw a little bag. You hadn’t recalled seeing it before, so you decided to take a look. Nothing wrong with looking through Roger’s stuff right? Besides, your curiosity was burning now. Pulling the bag open, your mind buzzed with ideas and a smirk crawled up on your lips.

Perfect.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Love, I’m home. Brought some takeout for dinner.” Rogers voice echoed from the front door of your shred apartment to your bedroom. You stood up from the bed and skipped to the kitchen. You almost looked a little too excited.

“Hey Roggie.” You went over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso and giving him a quick kiss before looking back up into his eyes.

“Shall we sit down and eat then love?” He asked.

You sat next to him and began eating, a thick veil of silence falling over the two of you. The only sound to be heard is your breathing.

“So Roggie, when were you going to ask me to fuck you.” You say nonchalantly, twirling your fork in your hand.

He chokes up.

“I- uh- what do you me-“

“C’mon baby, I know you want it. You’re not as discreet as you think. I also found the strap-on and lube you had hidden so very well.”

He stops for a moment, as if considering what to do. Then, without words. He stands up and grabs your arm, beginning to walk towards the bedroom, dragging you with him.

“Roggie we’re not done eating baby.”

“Fuck eating I don’t care you’re gonna do me instead.”

You smirk once again. Oh this is gonna be fun.

Soon enough, clothes were shed quicker than you could blink, and you were hovering over Roger, who was face down on the bed, sticking his ass in the air towards you. Endless begs and pleads were falling from his lips. He was attempting to lift his ass close to you so you would do something, anything, while also trying to thrust his hips down into the mattress to get some kind of friction to give himself any relief.

“Gonna take my fingers, needy little slut.” You say as you land a light smack to his ass. He let out a high-pitched, whiny whimper.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease oh fuck please.”

You grabbed the bottle of lube from the bedside table and coated your fingers in the thick, clear substance. You took three fingers and lightly traced them around his puckered hole, just barely brushing over it before pushing your middle finger in without any warning.

He took in a sharp breath, and once you began to slowly thrust your finger the more guttural groans began to leave his mouth. The groans got louder and louder as you added a second finger. Once you had added a third finger, he shoved his face into the mattress and screamed into it. The moans and loud breaths only increased as you continued to thrust your fingers.

“Mmh please, oh fuck, please fuck me m’gonna cum please.” His hips began to rut into the mattress again. You abruptly pulled your fingers out of him and he whimpered at the loss of friction.

“Dirty. Dirty. Little. Slut.” You punctuated each word with a harsh slap to his ass, which was growing redder each time. “Thrusting your hips into the mattress without thinking to ask me. Gonna have to be a good boy and listen to me or I won’t fuck you. Bad boys don’t deserve to be fucked.”

He moaned at your words. Just hearing you talk like this would be enough to make him cum, but he desperately tried to hold it off. Longing to feel you inside him.

“Please! I’ll be good. Mmh please just fuck me I promise I’ll be good.”

You reached back over to the bedside table and grabbed the bottle of lube, pouring a generous amount into the strap-on that you had already situated onto yourself. You spread the lube onto the fake cock with your hand, and wiped the rest onto Roger’s ass. You pressed the head of the strap-on onto his hole, but stopping right before pushing into him. You leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“Ready for me love?” He mewled and nodded his head the best he could from his position underneath you.

“Promise you’ll tell me if it’s to much.”

“Yes, I promise. Please just- FUCK HOLY FUCKING SHIT I-“ his words were cut off by the feeling of you slowly pushing into him. His jaw fell slack and the filthiest moans you’ve ever heard slipped from his mouth. Eyes squeezed shut. But he showed no sign of wanting you to stop. Eventually you bottomed out, and stopped moving.

“You alright baby? Doing so, so well. So good for me hm?” You cooed in his ear, lightly running your fingers through his silky blonde hair. You both stilled for s moment, save for your breathing, until Roger began to push his ass back against you, begging for you to start moving. Whines and whimpers falling from his mouth continuously as you finally gave in to his constant pleading. The whimpers grew closer and closer together, and he let out a shriek higher than he could sing when you hit a certain spot inside him that made him see stars.

“Oh fuck please do that again.” You complied.

He looked beautiful like this, you decided. His long blonde hair was strewn out underneath his head which he was pushing into the mattress in an attempt to muffle his moans (it wasn’t working).

“Mmh, so- oh shit, so good, oh fuck please please harder PLEASE.”

After a couple minutes, you were relentlessly pounding into him, and he was loving every second of it. His moans and whimpers grew louder and louder to the point you thought there was no way the neighbors couldn’t hear them. One of your hands was still buried in his hair, tugging at it constantly, coaxing more whimpers from Rog. You reached the other down and around his torso and began to slide it up and down his cock, which you swore had never been this hard. After just a few measly seconds of doing that, he let out an ear-splitting scream as he came, shooting his load out onto the sheets underneath him. You kept going until his body had fallen limp and he was lying helplessly on the bed, breathing heavily. You slowly pulled out of him, earning another hoarse whimper from him. He sighed as you lay down next to him and snuggled your head into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around him. After he had regained the majority of his composure, you spoke up, breaking the silence in the room.

“So I take it you liked that.” You smirked into his shoulder.

“I don’t know how the fuck you learned to do that but you’re doing that again.”

You giggled at his response, but you were cut off by him suddenly flipping you over and hovering above you. It was his turn to smirk.

“Your turn.”

You gasped as Roger attaches his mouth to your neck, sucking dark spots and occasionally stopping to leave a little bite. You knew you would be covered in bruises later, but you didn’t really care. All you cared about was the sensation of him inching his mouth lower and lower on your body, agonizingly slow. He stopped once he got to your dripping core, warm breath teasing you relentlessly.

“My baby’s been so, so good to me. Think you deserve a little reward hm?”

“Please Rog, ‘m so wet. Need you so bad. Please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” With that he delved into your cunt, devouring you with a whole new intensity, as if he hadn’t had a meal for an entire year. His tongue licked flat, long stripes up your heat before his lips wrapped around your clit, earning a long, drawn-out moan from you. He continued like this until obscenities were falling from your mouth continuously and you were begging him to cum as if your life depended on it. And at this moment, it did. Just as you were about to come undone. He stopped and pulled away.

“Roger what the fuck.”

“Want you to cum ‘round my cock. Sound good love?”

“Yeah if you’d just get on with it.”

“C’mon love don’t be a brat. You can be patient can’t you?”

You groaned in disapproval but decided not to say anything in case he got any ideas to tease you.

Before you had time to think any more, he had flipped you over so you were face-down on the bed.

“Ass up love, mmh yeah just like that, look so fucking hot. ‘m gonna fuck you so hard.”

You wiggles your ass a bit at him, trying to get him to do something. You suddenly felt his hand landing a quick smack to your ass, prompting you to holy forward a bit, but not too much, as he gripped you firmly by the waist and pulled you close to him before lining himself up and pushing into you in one fluid motion until he was fully sheathed inside of you and his balls were resting against your ass. Giving you merely a few seconds to adjust, then started to thrust into you relentlessly. Neither of you could contain your moans. The sounds of moans and skin slapping against skin ringing through the air.

“Fuck, ‘m not gonna last long love.” Roger groaned out at a particularly deep thrust, his rhythm faltering slightly.

“Me neither, fuck, please Rog.” His hand reaches around to rub your clit, applying lots of pressure and rubbing fast, tight circles. The contact made the tension inside your lower belly snap and you screamed as you came, as Roger kept coaxing you through your high. The feeling of you clenching around him was too much to handle, and he came too, hot spurts of him cum continuously spilling into you, dripping out of you and off his softening cock as he pulled out of you. He just barely managed to hold himself up long enough to not collapse on top of you, instead collapsing right next to you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into him, pressing a gentle kiss to the edge of your shoulder.

“Love you so much, you know that?” Roger’s voice was weak, and thoroughly-fucked sounding, yet still soft and elegant sounding.

“Love you too Roggie.”

Before you fell asleep, you concluded that there was indeed, nothing wrong with looking through Roger’s stuff.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

#queen #queen band #roger taylor #smut #smut prompts #smutty prompts #asks #writing prompt #writing prompts #writing #writing asks #brian may x reader #brian may #john deacon x reader #john deacon #blurb #queen blurbs #fanfic #fanfiction

[stitchcasual]

Ferelden Fury (a da2/pacrim au, part nine)

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six) (part seven) (part eight)

Everyone talks over each other for the next three seconds: “What do you mean ‘another darkspawn in the rift’?” “Venhedis.” “How the fuck is there another darkspawn??” “My sensors don’t see anything!” “Skyhold, please confirm.”

“Silence!” A hush falls on the comms, and then Rutherford continues. “This changes nothing about the mission: we still need that rift closed, and the Gallows Child has to do it. Fury, can you disengage to assist?”

Hawke snorts a laugh. “Negative, Skyhold. Darkspawn tricked out one of our legs; we’re going nowhere fast.” 

"We could," Zevran says. "The Siren is in position to disengage. Warden and Fury can hold these two beasties, yes?”

It’s possible, Hawke concedes: the darkspawn the Siren has been working on looks nearly wrecked, and the more it struggles against the blade the Fury has jammed in its throat, the closer it gets to dying. The fact that the Fury only has one good leg at this point barely factors into Hawke’s calculations. The Warden’s there on that side to assist them; right now, the Child needs more help than they do.

“Yes, go!” he shouts. “We’ll wrap this up quicker without your dumb ass anyway.”

Isabela’s merry laughter, only slightly dampened by the very real terror of a third darkspawn in the rift, echoes through the comms as she and Zevran lift their blades out of the darkspawn and turn to sprint toward the Child and their only hope of salvation as fast as their giant metal legs will take them.

The darkspawn tries to follow, but the Fury rotates their fist and curves it down the darkspawn’s body, cutting it open from throat to midsection. The monster thrashes, spilling what passes for blood and guts all over the Fury’s arm and the ground below, and Hawke can sense Fenris’s certainty that it won’t be long for this world. The second darkspawn seems to come to the same conclusion and writhes harder in the Fury’s grip, nearly breaking their hold.

“Warden!” Hawke calls in warning. He barely gets the name out before the darkspawn wrenches itself out of the Fury’s hold, tearing a chunk out of its own shoulder with the force of its movement. It’s still attached to the Warden by their greatsword, but it doesn’t look like the darkspawn cares about that very much as it kicks up its back legs to scratch and tear at the Warden’s leg plating while diving in with its jaws to savage at the Warden’s head. 

The Warden takes a step backward to stabilize themself against the attack and buckles; the darkspawn took out enough of their legs to render them nearly useless, and the jaeger falls to the ground with a thunderous crash. In an instant, the darkspawn capitalizes on the Warden's less defensible position and begins ripping at any plating it can hook its claws into in an attempt to get through to the pilots inside. Its movements are frenzied, the Warden's blade through its chest driving it mad, and it gives no thought to the damage it takes as it pries great chunks of armor off the downed jaeger.

Screams of pain are the only comm chatter now, as Stroud and Riordan experience their left arm nearly torn off and their body disemboweled. 

The Fury pivots, shaking the darkspawn off their wrist blade so they can skewer the one wrecking the Warden. With the momentum from their swing, they attempt to drive the darkspawn off the Warden, but the thing is so attached to the Warden's body that all they manage to do is cut out a large section of the back of the darkspawn's neck. That's enough, though, and the darkspawn coughs a gob of brown, semi-coagulated blood onto the Warden's face, its movements slowing until it finally stills.

The Fury turns to look back at the first darkspawn, readying their shoulder rockets, but the nearly bisected creature lies unmoving on the ground. Hawke can hear a relieved little huff of a sigh from Fenris, and he feels the same. Without the darkspawn to handle in the immediate present, the pain from the Fury's smashed leg filters back into Hawke's awareness, and it's only thanks to Fenris's assistance that the Fury kneels carefully on the ground rather than collapsing.

“Warden,” Hawke rasps, bracing one arm on the center console, “you okay?”

“We’re not going anywhere, that’s for sure.” Stroud sounds like he’s forcing cheer into his voice. “Riordan is down, and the Warden’s unresponsive; ‘spawn must have clawed out the control wiring." 

Hawke curses and checks his instruments for the Siren and the Child, even though he knows they're out of range. With the Warden downed and the Fury one poor decision from joining them, everything rides on the two remaining jaegers. Hawke can feel Fenris reaching out to him through the steady waves of their drift, a solid presence for him to lean on.

"Child," Hawke calls. "How's it looking?"

No immediate response comes through, and Hawke desperately hopes it's simply because they're concentrating on fighting a darkspawn and not for any darker reason. Still, he's uneasy, and though Fenris sighs in disapproval, he helps Hawke hoist the Fury to standing again. They half drag their ruined leg as they walk, making their slow way toward the rift.

"Fury! What are you doing!" 

Hawke doesn't answer, too focused on compartmentalizing the pain of their leg from everything else so that it doesn't overwhelm their drift and render them completely useless. 

"Stand by," Fenris says. He understands exactly why Hawke feels he has to do this; whether or not he agrees isn't germane to the situation as it stands. If he doesn't support Hawke, they both go down.

"Skyhold, Siren." Isabela's words are clipped, and the thrill of fear that runs Hawke's spine nearly collapses the walls he's built around the Fury's leg. "Shit's fucked. 'Spawn's huge, Child got hit. We're—" she gasps, then tries to laugh, "doing our best but—"

"We're on our way!" Hawke bellows at the comms, and the Fury increases their pace. As fast as they can move without tearing the busted leg off themselves and it still doesn't feel fast enough.

Finally the sensors register another jaeger, and Hawke has a moment to wonder why it's alone before the next dots appear and the vitals on the darkspawn display. Fenris swears quietly in Tevene, and Hawke wholeheartedly agrees, even though he doesn't speak a lick of Tevene.

The darkspawn is massive, easily twice as big as the two they just took out. Hawke doesn't think they have a size category for something this large. For all the Siren has been working at it, the thing still seems to be relatively vital. As they get closer, he can see the Siren dancing around the darkspawn, slashing relentlessly at it with their blades. The Child has backed away, watching from a safer distance, though they are still launching every single rocket in their payload at the creature.

The Child looks to have taken a swipe across their back and side; the weapon strapped to their back has a few deep cuts through it. If it doesn't work anymore they're all screwed, so it has to work: there's no other option. Hawke isn't sure how they can help with the condition they're in, but they have to try and pray they don't get in the way. 

"Distract it," Meredith commands as the last of the Child's rockets streak past the Fury's view screen. "Buy us time to get past it and into the rift."

"Copy that." The Fury keeps limping, slowly but surely closing with the Siren and that monstrous excuse for a darkspawn. Behind them, the Child keeps pace, waiting for their moment.

As they get closer, Hawke can see deep damage on the Siren too, identical marks to the ones the Child has, though more numerous. They haven't been fighting the darkspawn for that long, but the thing has still managed to hurt both jaegers in significant ways. There's no way the Siren could handle this 'spawn for much longer by themselves, and even with the Fury's additional might, their chances still look low. Still. They have to do this.

The Fury launches a few rockets as they walk, planting their good leg as securely as they can when each rocket fires so they don't topple. That gains them the darkspawn's attention for a few  seconds, and Hawke gets the distinct, uncomfortable impression that they're being evaluated, judged, and ultimately dismissed when it turns back to the Siren. Its giant clawed hands rake out toward a few pieces of loose plating low on the Siren's torso, and though the jaeger pivots to dodge, they're just a little too slow and it connects. Rather than tear at the jaeger and the pilots inside, the darkspawn lifts the Siren up and hurls them at the Fury.

Perhaps under better conditions they would have been able to sidestep or duck but the Fury is barely hanging on as it is, and they take the full weight of the Siren to their chest. Both of them tumble to the ground, and Hawke's mind is suddenly fire, the turbulent waves of his drift with Fenris nearly evaporated by the shock. He can hear screaming and not all of it is his. He reaches out for Fenris, unsure what’s real and what’s the drift and unable to see through the mist that springs up around them. A hand meets his, and he clings to it; even if it isn’t real, it’s all he has right now. He calls for Fenris, yelling his partner’s name in the same breath as he chokes on a scream of pain, searching for the one person who can help him refind his equilibrium.

It’s a whisper that snaps him back to center, slipping through the mist to steady him. Just a brush of wind against his cheek that then swirls around him, clearing out the area and allowing the waves back in. This Hawke knows how to handle, as he’s buffeted by the returning tides and winds of his drift with Fenris, and he sinks into the place he knows, the intersection where their hurricanes meet. He’s used to the lashing storms, and he uses them to buoy him and his leg. A moment later, Fenris joins him, and when Hawke looks down at their joined hands, he’s not surprised to realize he’s been holding onto Fenris this entire time.

Fenris smiles, soft but tense, and Hawke nods. They have to get up.

Pushing through together is easy; they can do anything together, Hawke thinks. The alarms and warning sirens in their cockpit are going haywire when they surface to consciousness, and the first thing Hawke does is slap them silent. It doesn’t matter what’s wrong with the Fury; all that matters is getting the Child to the rift. The Siren rolled off the Fury with the force of the darkspawn’s toss, which is good news for the Fury but sounds bad for the Siren if the one aborted groan from their comm is any indication.

They spent only a few seconds out of commission, it looks like, based on the positions of the darkspawn and the Child on their sensors; it’ll take them longer to get to standing, and they watch the situation unfold in front of them as they begin the slow, painful process.

Without any other jaegers as a shield, the Child is alone on the field against the massive darkspawn. It’s already struck them once and looks as eager as a giant monster could at the prospect of finishing them off. The Child, for their part, looks as calm as anything, continuing their steady walk toward the darkspawn and the rift. 

With two swift movements, the Child extends the large blade they keep tucked up one arm and runs their other hand along the sword’s edge. When the chemicals that coat the sword meet the ones secreted from the vents that run along the palm of the jaeger’s hand, the blade erupts in flame.

“Shit, that’s so fucking cool,” Hawke mutters.

Flaming sword in hand, the Child approaches the darkspawn. The darkspawn crouches, waiting, and Hawke has the terrible feeling that this one is more intelligent than the rest. The Child leaps the final few hundred feet separating them from the darkspawn, sword raised to come down in a strike across the darkspawn’s body, but the darkspawn parries with its claws, ignoring the flames that lick up past the claws to take hold in the creature’s hands and wrist. The Child swings again and again to similar effect, not making much of a dent in the way of taking the creature down, but Hawke can see their plan: slowly, nearly invisibly, the Child is switching positions with the darkspawn, placing themself in closer proximity to the rift as the darkspawn gets farther away. It’s terribly clever, and it would have had a better chance at working against any other darkspawn.

This one wises up to the plot before the Child has made more than a quarter rotation and on the Child’s next swing, it allows the sword to bite into its shoulder as it jams its own arm through the Child’s plating and deep into their guts. The comms are silent for ten heartstopping seconds.

“Fury.” Orsino’s voice. “Get us into the rift.”

“Doesn’t matter how,” Meredith coughs.

Fenris offers a suggestion through their shared consciousness, and Hawke nods. “On our way,” he says.

They stop trying to stand up and instead prepare their wrist blades and fire their propulsion rockets. It’s somehow both less and more bearable to not have any weight on their broken leg as they fly low across the ground toward the Child. They impact the darkspawn first and shove their left wrist blade up and into the thing’s body before doing the same thing to the Child. It feels wrong to injure another jaeger but this is their only shot at closing this rift, and if Hawke read Orsino and Meredith’s tones right, they weren’t planning on coming back anyway.

Hawke and Fenris press their arms together, pinning the Child and the darkspawn to each other, and they keep going, using their propulsion rockets as long as they possibly can, streaking all three of them closer to the rift. Hawke can feel the certainty when it enters Fenris’s mind, knows the exact second he accepts that they’re not making it out either.

The mission is more important than either of them and they both know it. They’re through with regrets; settled into their drift, they know that at least they’ll go down together and there’s a peace in that.

The darkspawn wriggles in their grasp, attempting to break free of the two blades stuck into its body and its own grip on the Child, but neither jaeger will be moved, though it's a vicious fight merely to retain the holds they already have.

And then they crest the rift. The sensors register nothing but empty space plus the blips for the Child and the darkspawn. What Hawke sees with his eyes is completely different: All around them is a crackling golden energy that spits shadow-tinted lightning bolts from point to point, seemingly at random. There's a city in the distance and atop one of the buildings, a tall, sickly thin figure stands, arms spread. Darkspawn float in this space, as gravity doesn't pull on them the same way it does on the other side of the rift. The jaegers float too, caught off guard by the sudden shift, and the darkspawn they'd pushed through with uses the moment to wrench free from them.

"Fury, we're arming the charges now. Get out of here."

"Love to, but…" The Fury's propulsion rockets sputter and go out. "Don't sweat it, Child. We did what we needed to."

"Copy that. Detonation in ten. Nine."

Hawke tunes the countdown out, instead reaching for Fenris's hand in the cockpit of their jaeger. They did it. They got the Child where they needed to go and the rest of the world will be safe now, thanks in part to them. That's what matters.

He watches the explosion balloon out of the Child, emerging like some parasitic growth from the apparatus on their back. The shockwave ripples out, interrupting the shadow-gold lightning as it goes, turning the bolts back on themselves and into the darkspawn around them. Hawke imagines he might hear screams if he could hear anything outside their contained little jaeger world.

The shockwave hits them too, frying the Fury's sensors and controls and sending a cascading stream of little shocks from his toes to his head. This is it, he thinks, and smiles. They did it. Nothing else matters. Bethany. Varric. The Marshall. Hawke watches their faces as they appear in front of him and then dissolve. Nothing else matters. His own vision grays, then blacks out shortly after.

(part ten)

#dragon age 2 #pacific rim #fenhawke #hawris #da2 #ferelden fury #part ten will come Very Soon as it's already written and i just gotta find more time to get on desktop tumbly and post it #look at me finally finishing things #>.<

[diggydiggybot]

☠ For Either

☠️ -A near death experience

Umbran was quick and quiet as he jumped from tree to tree, dreadlocks wrapping securely around branches as he went to make sure he didn't slip and fall. Around him, the jungle was alive with twittering and chirping and soft hissing of animals and insects.It was a heck of a place to be sent on a mission, his third mission to date, but a reploid part of a research facility out here had gone maverick. Now the facility it had once worked for was in danger of being potentially attacked by the same reploid.He had already gotten a full report at the facility, so now it was a matter of tracking the maverick down.The young Hunter paused as he landed on a branch, taking a few moments to scan his surroundings before flipping his Ghost Protocol off so he could contact HQ."Shadow Blade to HQ, reporting in.""HQ to Shadow Blade, go ahead.""Finally on the maverick's track after an hour of searching. After the initial destruction in the research facility, it seems to be heading deeper into the jungle away from the facility. I'm going to follow and see where the tracks lead. I'll report in again when I've located the maverick.""Understood Shadow Blade. HQ will await your next communication.""Alright. Shadow Blade out."As he flipped his Ghost Protocol back on, effectively ending all communications, he hummed softly under his breath as he looked out into the foliage. This wasn't going to be easy.Rolling his shoulders, he steeled himself and started jumping from tree to tree again, following the maverick's tracks deeper into the jungle.-------------------------------------------

Well. Who knew there was something other than a maverick out here.Down in a valley ahead of him were ruins. Ruins of what, he hadn't a clue, but the maverick's tracks had led here.The research facility had mentioned trying to locate old ruins in the region, but the way they'd spoken about it, it sounded like they hadn't found any yet. Somehow, the maverick had. Perhaps they'd just learned the location before going maverick? Either way, he was going to make sure the research facility got the coordinates for this place later.Ghost Protocol flipped off, he lifted a hand to his audials."Shadow Blade to HQ, maverick hasn't been located but I've tracked it to--"He cut himself off as he heard a snap just behind and to his right, his head snapping around to scan his surroundings for the source."HQ to Shadow Blade, come in. Could you repeat that? You cut off."Umbran didn't answer immediately, now on high alert as he carefully scanned the foliage and tried to listen for any other sound. After a few tense moments, he slowly raised his hand back to his audial."Hold contact. I don't think I'm alone."He just barely lowered his hand before something lunged at him from the undergrowth. Crying out in surprise, he felt himself being tackled out of the tree he'd been perched in, then falling for what felt like forever, along with whoever had tackled him.Then they were crashing through foliage, the impacts finally separating Umbran and his attacker as they tumbled their way down to the jungle floor below.It was a few minutes before Umbran finally came to, with the first thing that greeted him being shouting in his audials. Groaning softly, he blinked to find himself staring up at the canopy above, before he tried pushing himself up."Shadow Blade, come in! What happened?!""Ugh, can you please stop shouting?" He replied in a quiet tone. Even though he was still processing what had happened, he was aware that he most likely wasn't alone still. He didn't want to fully alert whoever had attacked him if they were nearby.There was a sigh of relief from the other end. "Good to hear you Umbran. What in the world happened?"Umbran took the chance of a quick pause to look around from his position sat on the forest floor. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but that only put him on higher alert."Something lunged at me, tackled me right out of the tree I was in. I think we ended up falling down into a valley. Hng-!" Umbran flinched as he tried to stand up. Taking a moment to look himself over, he cringed a little at seeing one of his own blades was stuck in his right side. Must've occurred during the tumble to the ground."S-shit, I'm injured. One of my own blades is stuck in my side.""Your vitals did show a discrepancy, so that would explain it. Best not to remove it, Shadow Blade.""I know... Last thing I need is to bleed out everywhere right now." Umbran quietly replied, then hissed softly as he pushed himself up onto his feet. At least the blade in his side was the only injury so far, though he could feel a soreness in other parts of his body.But now he had to focus on his surroundings. His attacker couldn't have landed too far from him. And now that the other end of the line had gone quiet, there was an unsettling quietness. The sounds of the jungle were more subdued.And then a growl to his left, just before something came charging at him.Umbran jumped to the side and grunted a little as he turned to face his opponent, who turned to face him in return.It was the maverick he'd been tracking down. It's appearance seemed leopard-themed, with sharp-looking eyes, a mouth of crushing teeth and fangs, and wicked claws meant for climbing trees. And, of course, a long tail."HQ. Maverick has been located..." Umbran said to his commlink with a slight growl as he glared the maverick down. He might be injured, but if he could take it down quick, it would all be okay."Shadow Blade, we advise you retreat while we send back-up! You're already injur--""No time HQ! He means business!" Umbran said quickly as he had to dive out of the way as the leopard-themed maverick charged at him again. Bastard was fast!Rolling back onto his feet, he gritted his teeth as every movement made the blade lodged in his side shift ever so slightly. The longer this went on, the more damage the blade was potentially doing inside him.As the rest of his dreadlock blades moved defensively around him, his eyes kept the maverick in his sight as the reploid circled him. Umbran was patient, not moving from his spot as he waited for the maverick to make it's next move. Releasing an animal-like snarl, the reploid seemed to try feinting it's next attack, pouncing one way, then the other, before lunging right at the Hunter.Umbran read the move brilliantly though and ducked down under the maverick's pounce, a few dreadlock blades lashing out to slash up. He heard a pained yowl, just before the maverick's tail slammed into the side of his head.He had to scramble not to land on his injured side as the hit made him tumble sideways, and shook off the hit as best he could as he spun around to see where the maverick was now. Eyes widened as the maverick was lunging right at him again, deep gashes in it's chest, and unfortunately he had little time to try and dodge this time.Next thing he knew, the maverick's jaws were biting down into where his left shoulder met his chest and he was pushed onto his back. The hunter snarled in pain as he felt the reploid's fangs sinking through his armor, then was suddenly screaming as he felt his arm pulling relentlessly pulled. Damned maverick was trying to tear his arm off! Not only that, but he could feel claws digging into his chest and abdomen, coming dangerously close to the blade stuck in his side.In desperation, his dreadlock blades rose high and came thrusting down into the maverick's back then pulled in different directions to tear through armor and internals. He could hear the loud yowls of pain, but those jaws only bit down harder and his arm yanked harshly, until finally his joint gave way and Umbran screamed in agony as his arm was torn off.Blades were yanked from the maverick's back, then went ballistic as they repeatedly and randomly thrusted into the leopard reploid. It didn't matter what they hit so long as the blades hit something! Then he got his legs in under the maverick and kicked as hard as he could, snarling as he felt fangs tearing through his armor.Umbran laid there for a few minutes, though it felt longer, damage alerts screaming through his mind. Finally, he forcibly dismissed them and he began to become more aware of surroundings. His right arm moved to wrap his hand over where his left had been connected to his body, coolant and oil leaking through his fingers. Then, he rolled over onto his right side before awkwardly and painfully pushing himself up onto his knees. Only when he was up did he realise something, and looked down at his right side.The blade was no longer there, the wound now freely and badly bleeding, along with small gash wounds in his chest and abdomen. Umbran could only blearily surmise that when he started violently thrusting his blades, the one in his side had pulled out to join the rest without him realising.Speaking of the maverick.Umbran looked around and saw the maverick a few feet away, lying dead in a pool of coolant and oil that was slowly seeping into the ground. Shit...And now that he was becoming more aware of things again, his hearing seemed to finally return as he started hearing someone shouting in his audials. Oh yeah. HQ."Shadow Blade! Umbran! For goodness sake, come in Umbran!""I... I'm here... M-maverick is dead. I...I..." Fuck, why was it so hard to think now? And were things starting to go quiet again? He was feeling heavier too... "I think... I need assis..." His voice trailed off as his body sank back to the ground and everything went black.-------------------------------------------When Umbran finally regained consciousness, he was being tended to by lifesavers in HQ's medbay. Though, he wasn't truly aware of what was happening around him until several hours later when his systems had finally finished processing what happened and were for the most part restored.As he blinked to awareness, he was startled to see Commander Sigma hovering over him, looking as stern as ever. Though... Was that a hint of...worry in his eyes?"Ah, there you are Umbran. I was starting to wonder if you'd ever wake up." Sigma said with a small half-smile."C-Commander, why are you--""Here? Can't a Commander be concerned about his subordinates? Or a brother worried for his younger?" Sigma asked with a look.Umbran started a bit, then sighed as the tension left his body, though he did hang his head in shame a little."Apologies, Commander. I should've retreated and waited for back-up." Umbran said, then just now became aware that his left arm had been reattached. He slowly began to move it to test how it felt as Sigma replied with a small, thoughtful hum."While that would have been the sensible course of action, it seemed clear the maverick wasn't going to make that easy. Retreating might have also given the maverick a chance to gain some distance again. While I won't say staying and fighting the maverick was the right choice, it wasn't exactly the wrong choice either." Sigma said, watching as Umbran lowered his arm and sighed."I'll endeavour to make smarter decisions in the future, sir." Umbran said, maybe just a little despondently. He hated disappointing the Commander like this.But then he found Sigma leaning down towards him, blinking as he eyed the larger reploid."It's not always about making smarter decisions. Besides, making the smart decisions is my job." Sigma countered gently, with a rather brotherly smile, before he straightened and began to step away."I'm taking you off the field for a week so you can properly recover." Sigma called over his shoulder, getting an amusing appalled noise from the young Hunter."A-a week?! But Commander--!" Umbran began arguing in a flabbergasted tone as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, but cut himself off when Sigma turned to give him a look."That's an order, Umbran, as both your Commander and your older brother."Oh, for fuck--, did he really have to pull the Older Brother Card?! Umbran felt himself deflate a bit and sighed heavily as he laid back down. He couldn't really ignore an order like that."By the way."Umbran's brow furrowed as he looked back over at Sigma as the imposing reploid stood in the medbay's doorway."Some old ruins were spotted near to your location by the back-up we sent." Sigma said, noting how Umbran's head perked up. He continued with a smile. "The coordinates have already been forwarded to the research facility, who expressed their gratitude."It took a moment, but Umbran sighed and lowered his head back down. "Thank you, Commander.""Mm, now get some rest Umbran." Sigma said, before stepping out and letting the medbay doors close behind him.        

#IC #Anon #Anonymous #Drabble/Fic Meme #Near-Death Experience #Umbran #Hunter Shadow Blade #((Chose to do a fic with Umbran)) #((Not just pre-maverick but pre-Sigma revolt!)) #((So got a bit of interaction with Sigma!)) #((I had fun writing this hehe))

[neyithfiresong]

Memories

Neyith tends to his garden ripping up weeds by hand for once. Feeling the soil under his hands almost calming, meditative. The smells surrounding him causes Ney to close his eyes and take a deep breathe. The scent of the lilies bringing him to a simpler time. A time of peace in his life. He smiles wide as he opens his eyes to see Zandryl with his arms wrapped around Aeri’theras waist. Aeri smiling as Zan buries his face into his neck, pretending to nibble on him.

“The big bad wolf is going to gobble every last inch of you.” Zan smirks and relentlessly tickles Aeri. 

Aeri, one of Neyiths husbands, smiles and gives their young boyfriend a smirk, “Oh is that a promise now?”

Ney sighs shaking his head and looks around the grounds as his hands continue to work. In the training grounds Flynn, another of Ney’s husbands, practices his form. Moving slowly as he gathers his strength. His muscles glistening in the sunlight. Beads of sweat running down his bare back. Flynn pulls his fist back slowly before delivering a powerful and precise strike to the training dummies head. Knocking it clean off.

The dummies head rolls across the ground, it stops right under Ryan, his third husband’s, foot.

“You know if you keep demolishing these we are going to run out of money replacing them.” Ryan smirks at Flynn. A guitar in his hand he gently kicks the head and lays down on the bench strumming a few notes.

Flynn rolls his eyes, “Ney’s club is doing well. Your stardom is going through the roof. I think we are set on funds.” He picks up the head and places it on the dummy. Going back to his routine of slow movements followed by forceful attacks.

Ney’s heart beats rapidly as he watches his lovers enjoying their everyday lives. Nothing super special about these moments. No one is getting attacked. No one is dying. There is no tragedy, no sorrow, not even harsh words fill the air. It is just love. Just- normalcy.

Wiping off his hands Ney places the weeds in his compost basket before he goes on to pruning the flowers. His eyes slowly turning to that of a pale green. Like the underside of a leaf. Not completely stepping into the dream. But the realm between the dream and the real world. He looks up and watches once again the grounds around him. Only the past mixed with the present. Seeing both play out at the same time.

Faded and almost like a mist a dream version of Aeri and himself land on the mountain side. Before there was a house. Before he had built their home with his own two hands. Before he had marked off this piece of paradise for their own.

Aeri, saved from a vile and torturous version of himself, in a whispering beg asked Ney to take him far away from everyone and everything. The love Ney had and still does have for his first mate, he was more than happy to fulfill this request. He flew until he could see nothing but a small village at the base of the mountain.

Dream Ney sets his lover down in the grass and kisses him on the head. The real version of Ney cannot hear the words that are spoken between the two. But he remembers them fondly.

“No matter where we go. Or what happens to us. This will be our home. This will be our mountain.”

Ney sighs and smiles as he watches himself promise Aeri a piece of the planet itself. Promising that no matter what hardships they faced. They would always have someplace to call their own.

The dream fast forward just a touch as Ney, shirtless and sweating hauls not logs. But whole trees up the mountain. One on each shoulder. He smiles at Aeri who is swimming around in the lake behind the house. Aeri’s tail red and glinting in the sun. Neyith sets down the trees with a loud thud and gets to work cutting it into lumber. The foundation and framework of the home already done, this was just adding the walls. 

Ney chuckles as he watches himself work. Noticing the little things he used to do back then. Flexing his muscles when there was no need. Sucking in his stomach and bending in awkward positions so there was not a roll in sight. Ney looks down at his real self and goes into hysterical laughter, no longer does he feel the need to do that. To hide his form. To be attractive conventionally every second of everyday. Letting his stomach roll naturally. His muscles are still there, but he doesn’t feel the need to show them off. He doesn’t feel the need to be masculine all the time. This causes the real Zan to look up at Ney sitting in the garden laughing to himself, “What is up with him?” Aeri shakes his head and smiles, “He is wandering.”

Zan looks at Aeri with a raised eyebrow, “Uh- it looks like he is sitting.” Aeri rubs his face, “He is walking through the dream but not fully. He is reliving memories. Probably noticed something the rest of us didn’t.” 

Ney picks up his basket of freshly cut flowers as his eyes fade back to normal. The left eye a Fel green. The right eye a blazing red of his flight. The dream world fading away. He walks over to Zan and Aeri giving them both a kiss on the cheek. He smiles wide as he looks down at Aeri.

“I looked like an idiot back then didn’t I?”

Aeri shrugs, “Not that I have any idea what you are talking about. But I am going to go with no. You looked perfect. Just like you do now.”

Ney chuckles and walks into the house. As he looks around his mind wanders again as he walks into the kitchen. Ney pulls out a drawer and grabs his gardening shears. Cutting the stems of the flowers so they can survive in the vase longer. As he looks up through the kitchen arch he watches another memory unfold.

Ryan had just been saved. Flynn holding his childhood friend turned lover tight. Ney smiles at the two of them as they thank Ney for all of his help.

Ryan looks down at the smaller man, “Where do you want to go now?” Flynn shrugs and looks at the ground, “I am not sure where we could go...our home was destroyed long ago.” Dream Ney clears his throat blushing and rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous habit he has grown used to, “Well- I mean. If you want...you both could stay you know. Here. I mean I built this house with more than enough rooms.” Aeri’s form walks down the stairs and wraps his arms around Ney, “I think I would be more than happy for you two to join us.” He nods once to Flynn, “Besides. Kind of like that one. So why wouldn’t I like this tall vanilla cupcake living in my house.” Ryan looks at Flynn and then to Aeri and Ney, “If we overstay our welcome please feel free to-” Ney holds up a hand, “Our home. Is not your home and I would never kick someone out of their own home.” He smiles to the two men before him.

Flynn looks up at Ryan, “We have a home.” The figures slowly fade out of existence as Ney’s mind stops reliving his memories.

Neyith places the flowers in a dark blue vase with flecks of silver painted into it smooth side and then fills it with some water. He walks over to the dining room vase in hand and sets it on the table admiring his hard work.

The clock on the wall rings out five in the evening. He curses to himself and runs up the stairs quickly getting dressed in one of his black button downs and tailored suit. He struggles to get his dress shoes on to his feet, “Fuck fuck fuck.” He manages to get it on and runs out the front door. “Hey guys sorry I can’t kiss you all goodnight but the club opens in an hour and I am running late. I will see you tonight bye. Love you!”

As he runs down the mountain he shifts into his dragon form. Ruby red scales burning like sunlight interrupted by forest green cluster of scales. He pushes himself off the ground and flies towards the setting sun.

#rubydragon #dragonflight #gay #polyamourous #world of warcraft #OC #domestic #moment #emerald dream

[santheweird]

Hey Sarge! (Chapter 5)

Summary: Due to the lack of jobs because of World War 2, Alexander Sami Hale joined the army to keep her family’s head above the water.

She falsified her enlistment form, convincing the officials that she was actually a boy named Alexander Hale.

When her sergeant, James Barnes, was captured by the German forces during a battle in Azzano, Alex went AWOL to aid a man named Steve Rogers to rescue his best friend.

This is her story.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of war, survivor’s guilt, burn wounds

(gif may or may not work)

~

Alex needed a cigarette. Badly. But as she doesn’t smoke that much, she doesn’t have her own personal stash. She could bum one from someone else, but they were still somewhat in enemy territory, and any small light could be seen by a plane flying overhead, including a cigarette light.

She tightened the jacket around her, shivering as she tried to sleep. But she couldn’t. Everytime she closed her eyes, flashes of the battle appeared behind her eyelids: explosions, people disappearing into dust, those strange blue flashes, screaming, blazing inferno despite the heavy rain, so close to her that she could feel the heat on the side of her face-

She would always wake up grasping for something that wasn’t there.

The battle of Azzano had taken a huge toll on their numbers. What remained of the 107th was around 20 soldiers at most, and if you included the other soldiers from other forces, everyone added up to around 85 soldiers, 100 at most.

No.

Not everyone.

Alex hugged her legs tighter. No matter how many times she counted, or asked around or searched in this meager group, she would never be able to find Bucky, Dugan and Jones.

And it was all her fault.

~

“-ex! Alex! Wake up! Alex!”

Alex snapped her eyes open, drawing in a deep breath of shock and fear. Bucky hovered over her anxiously, his helmet askew and the side of his face caked with mud and blood. Alex felt the tremors of a nearby explosion on the ground she was lying on, jarring her teeth.

“Oh my god, you fucking idiot!” Bucky pulled Alex off the ground, his grip strangely gentle. “We were given the order to retreat, not run in the other goddamn direction!’

Alex’s ears were ringing, and her legs buckled as soon as she stood up, collapsing immediately against Bucky, her left arm throbbing painfully. “Wha- what happened?”

“What happened was you pulling a fucking Steve on me and running off right onto the face of danger!” Bucky grumbled, slinging Alex’s right arm over his shoulder, half-carrying, half-dragging Alex away from the front lines. “When you said you would take care of the flamethrower, I didn’t think that you would mean that you would explode it!”

“Well, you always did say that I reminded you of your ol’ pal. Guess that got to my head.” Alex grinned, eyes half-lidded and delirious from her pounding head and...burned arm? Oh, right, she threw a small bomb, made out of gunpowder from her bullets and a lot of desperate improvising, at the flamethrowers. She thought that the blast would break the containers containing the flammable liquid and gas, but she didn’t expect it to explode so violently.

“Not just your arm.” Bucky breathed out. Oh, was she speaking out loud? “The left side of your face got hit too, and your shoulder has some shrapnel. Don’t try to move it too much.”

Alex's head swam as she barely registered Bucky's words. So that's why one side of her face felt like it was burning despite the rain around them.

“Scared the living crap outta me.” Bucky complained. “I swear, you and Stevie are gonna get along like a house on fire if you meet each other. But I pray that the Lord Almighty would prevent that from happening.”

“Didn't peg you as the praying type.” Alex slurred, legs stumbling over a couple of loose rocks and dead bodies.

“I would willingly shave my head and become a monk instead of taking care of both you ‘lil shits at the same time.”

“Bullshit. You would never bring yourself to shave your hair, you vain bastard.” Alex knew what James was doing, constantly talking to her to keep her awake, so that hypothermia and all those other things wouldn't set in. It was working, so far, but she could sense the tremble in his voice, and Alex wondered faintly, at the back of her head, just how much Bucky had to hide behind his cheerful facade in order to be a reassuring rock of stability for her squad.

An explosion shook her out of her thoughts, the force of it bringing her to her knees, accidentally dragging Bucky down with her as well. Alex howled in pain when her arm was jostled painfully, letting go of Bucky to grip her arm. Black spots danced in her vision and she faintly heard Bucky curse behind her as deadly flashes of blue light passed by over their heads.

“Hold on tight!” He slung her over his shoulder and dashed towards a nearby pile of debris for cover. Safe (hopefully) from any attacks, Bucky started checking on Alex arm and shoulder, salvaging any pieces of cloth to at least staunch the bleeding. Alex winced, tearing up at the pain and the hopelessness of this entire situation. She was badly injured and wasn’t sure if she could walk properly. She would only weigh Bucky down, and there was almost no chance of him getting to safety if she stayed with him.

“Sarge,” she breathed out. “Go on without me. Save yourself. We’re both gonna die if you stay with me so it’s best that you-”

Bucky looked up right at her, breathing heavily and eyes wide and Alex didn’t know if it was the rain but it really looked like he was crying right now.

“No.”

“Bucky-”

“No, I am not fucking leaving you.” Bucky responded firmly, his voice slightly hoarse. “If you think for one fucking moment that I’m gonna leave you alone in this shithole, then think again. I am your superior officer, and it is my duty to make sure you get back to your family safe and sound when this shitstorm is over.”

Alex felt hot tears prick the back of her eyes. “But-”

There was the sound of shouting behind them, and Bucky swiftly turned around, pointing his rifle at whoever might be coming up at the back. Alex was just about to persuade Bucky to leave her behind when a small group of muddied French soldiers appeared in front of them.

“Do you need help?” A soldier with a thick accent asked.

Bucky nodded wordlessly, gesturing helplessly at Alex. There was a garble of French as two soldier rushed forward, one carrying a med-kit. More French, with bits of stilted, broken English as they examined her wounds. One looked back up at their leader (?) and shook their head.

“We don't have enough to time to treat his wounds here!” The leader shouted in French.

“I'm not leavin’ him here!”

Alex couldn't register what happened afterwards, but she felt several hands lifting her up and hoisting her onto someone's back. Bucky was by her side, constantly urging her to stay conscious. The rain continued to pelt on them relentlessly, like tiny pebbles falling from the sky.

There was a sudden burst of machine gun fire, and Alex saw a flash of blue light beneath her half-closed eyelids. The soldier carrying her dropped to the ground to avoid gunfire, and Alex winced as she tumbled off his back. She opened her eyes fully to see Bucky in a crouch, gripping his rifle, a determined look in his eyes.

He glanced at her, and looked back at the enemy again.

“Get the hell outta here! I’ll hold them off!”

“Sarge! No-” Alex cut herself off, wincing as another wave of pain shot through her arm. Her head throbbed painfully and her vision flickered as she tried to look for Bucky through the thick curtain of rain. Fear flashed through her as there were several gunshot sounds and flashes of blue light.

“James!” She screamed over the thunder, pushing away the soldier who tried to hold her back, hot tears streaming down her cheeks, mixing with the rain.”Bucky!!”

Another explosion, and Alex stumbled back onto the ground. Sharp pain blossomed out at the back of her head, and everything faded to black.

~

She was roused not long after, but by that time, she was already loaded up on the truck, taken away from the battlefield and back to base. The shrapnel in her arm had already been taken out when she was unconscious, and bandages covered the entire left portion of her face. Her left arm was also similarly bandaged, and the medics said that it was a miracle that there hasn’t been any more damage.

She got a fever from infection the next day, and spent the next two days slipping in and out of consciousness. Her fever broke on the third day, and the group of survivors reached the main base the next day, where Alex and many other soldiers were sent off to the medical tent for further examination and treatment for their injuries.

There would be permanent scarring on her face and arm, and it would take a while to regain full motion of her left arm, but that was the least of Alex’s worries. Bucky had sacrificed himself for her safety, and she hated that. She hated the fact that she injured herself so carelessly, dragging Bucky behind when he could have run on ahead without her. She hated the fact that it was her, an uneducated little runt of a person with absolutely nothing to her name, was alive and not Bucky. She hated the fact that Bucky chose to save her instead of himself. She hated the fact that she even needed to be saved in the first place.

She hated the fact that she was sitting comfortably in a nice little medical tent when there were hundreds of soldiers being held prisoner in German fortresses.

She hated the fact that Colonel Phillips was making no attempt at trying to rescue those prisoners.

Which was why she had dragged herself straight towards the commands tent immediately once she was cleared by the medical team. Bandages and all.

Phillips took one look at Alex’s small stature and mummified face and ordered her to go back to her squad tent before she could say a word. She was surprised that he did not send her back home.

She came back the next morning. Phillips decided to hear her out, and sighed when she proposed to save the prisoners in Krausberg. Needless to say, she was sent back to her tent. She came back in the afternoon.

The next day, the Colonel was red in the face when he found Alex standing in front of him. After several profanities and a threat to send her back home, Alex finally relented and stormed out of the tent in frustration. Just as she was about to exit, the tent flaps opened, and in came a well-built and tall blond, and an extremely beautiful female officer, both slightly drenched from the rain.

Alex felt like she had to snap to a solemn salute when they entered. The man looked like the literal paragon of an American man, freedom and patriotism and righteousness practically oozing out of his veins. And the mere presence of the woman commanded the immediate respect and attention of everyone in the room. She practically had vibes of badassery trailing out after her.

Alex could hear Phillips’ audible sigh from across the tent as the blond headed over towards his desk.

“Colonel Phillips.”

“Well if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man With a Plan.” Phillips replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What is your plan today?”

The Star-Spangled- what?

“I need the casualty list from Azzano.”

Alex frowned. Despite the man’s build and height, Alex’s didn’t think that he was a soldier of any sort, let alone a superior officer, so why does he need to know who had died from the battle? She felt a twinge of something as she thought of Bucky again.

“You don’t get to give me orders, son.”

“I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.”

Alex’s eyes widened. How does he know James? She stepped forward, frowning. The man seemed familiar. Where exactly did she see that face before?

Phillips, however, ignored the blond and pointed his pen at the female officer instead.

“You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won't enjoy.”

“Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-”

“-I can spell.” Phillips interrupted, irritated.

He got up, and arranged some paperwork in his hands, sighing. “I have signed more of these condolence letters today than I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I'm sorry.”

The determination that was initially on the man’s face immediately melted away into shock and grief, his lips slightly parted for a moment as he took in the news. The female officer looked at him with concern, but he covered his anguish up swiftly.

“What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?”

“Yes, it’s called winning the war.”

“But sir,” Alex protested, stepping forwards once more. “It’ll be too late by then! At least let me go there and scout out the area, and we’ll be able to-”

“Hale! Shut up!”

The tent was silent. Phillips glared at Alex. “Do you have a death wish, Private?”

Alex lifted her chin and looked back at the old Colonel. “Maybe I do.”

Phillips looked down at his desk and sighed. He got up and pointed at the enormous map pinned up behind him. “The prisoners are being held thirty miles behind the front lines, through one of the most heavily fortified territories in Europe.” He looked back at the blond. “We’d lose more men than we’d save. But I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl.”

Phillips turned his gaze towards Alex. “We already lost way too many men at Azzano. I don't want to lose anymore for something which is already a lost cause.”

Alex clenched her jaw. The man glanced at her for a moment.

“I think I understand sir.”

“Well then go understand somewhere else.” Phillips sat back behind his desk. “If I read the posters correctly, you have somewhere to be in half an hour.”

The man stared at the map.

“Yes sir, I do.”

Notes:

- “I’ll try to update more often.” I said. “I won’t take too much time to finish the next chapter.” I said. It has been three months.

- Exams are over, and the holidays are here, so hopefully I’ll be able to dedicate more time to this story! I’m not exactly in an encouraging home environment, but things are coming along! Sorry for all the sporadic updates!

- If the tanks/cylinders in a flamethrower is pierced with a bullet, it doesn’t necessarily explode, since what’s inside is flammable liquid, not pressurized gas. It’s only if it is ignited, then the results could be deadly. Alex obviously knew about this, but didn’t expect the blast to be so large. Don’t play with fire.

- Yes, because of her recklessness, Alex got disfigured. @infired606 lost her shit when I told her. Ehehe.

- First chapter with Steve AND Peggy! Cue Bucky groaning in the distance because the two most troublesome and reckless idiots in the world has finally met. Go shave your head, jerk.

- Another chapter uploaded, and now it’s time for me to buckle down and start working on chapter 6! You can hammer me with complaints (and questions and feedback please) in my ask, and taglist is open! Bye!!

Chapter 4  Chapter 6

Masterlist

#bucky x reader #1940s bucky x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #peggy carter #ca:tfa #bucky x oc #captain america:the first avenger #my writing

[wallturkey]

What If Vegeta Trained Gohan After The Cell Games?

This idea has been in my head for a while, and I figured Tumblr was a good place to put down the stories inside my head.

A few weeks after the Cell Games, Vegeta is at Capsule Corporation. He is still despondent after the death of his longtime rival. Without Kakarot, the urge to train is diminished. He still does so, but spends more and more time trying to figure out how to be a father. That is until Gohan walks in. Gohan is in Super Saiyan form, retaining his ability to stay in the transformed state indefinitely.

“What are you doing here?” Vegeta is incensed simply by the boy’s presence. It reminds him of the man he will never get to beat.

“I respect my father’s decision,” Gohan’s tone was respectful, but determined. “But he was wrong. His absence does not protect the Earth from danger. There will be new threats. If I want to be ready, I need to be stronger.” He locked eyes with Vegeta. “I need to embrace my heritage. I want to train with the rightful King of the Saiyans.”

Vegeta's eyes widened. His heart raced. All the old feelings returned. He had a new future. He smiled his vicious smile. “Prepare for punishment. I will make an elite Saiyan warrior out of you.”

Years pass. Gohan spends most of his time at Capsule Corp, training constantly. He spends an hour a day with Bulma being tutored to satiate Chi-Chi, who eventually visits as well, after Goten and Trunks have joined Vegeta and Gohan’s training. Because of this, all four of them become immensely powerful. All three boys have also learned under Bulma’s tutelage, keeping up their intelligence.

At Chi-Chi’s insistence, Gohan enrolls in Orange Star High School as he does in the anime. Day 1 starts as it does in DBZ proper. Gohan runs into bank robbers, goes Super Saiyan, and dispatches them easily. He returns to normal and goes to school. All goes well until Videl questions him. “The Gold Fighter was wearing a white shirt, a black vest, and red pants.”

“But he had gold hair.” Erasa chimed in.

“Like this?” Bolstered by the Saiyan pride fostered by Vegeta, Gohan transforms right there in the classroom, and brings the world to a halt. Gohan, the Gold Fighter is immediately a household name. It quickly comes out that he is the son of former World Martial Arts Champion Son Goku, and Videl steps in to help him handle the publicity... On the condition that he train her.

The next day, Videl arrives at Capsule Corp. Vegeta refuses to train her, so he focuses his attention on Goten and Trunks, who are decked in Bulma’s rendition of Saiyan armor. Gohan trains Videl, and within a day she learns the basics of ki control. The next day, she has taken to the air, if only barely. Suitably impressed, Vegeta steps in.

“Who are you?” He asked incredulously. “Very few earthlings are this naturally adept.”

Videl stood strong. “I’m the daughter of Mr. Satan, the World Martial Arts Champion!”

Vegeta stared, confused, before a sudden spark of realization hit him, and he burst into laughter. “That oaf? He’s about as strong as an Arlian beetle!”

“I know him!” Goten chimed in. “He’s the strongest guy on Earth not like us!”

Vegeta looked angry. “Then he isn’t strong.”

Videl mirrored his rage. “It’s his training that made me this good. If he learned this stuff he could outclass you!”

Vegeta laughed once more before regaining his poise. “I very much doubt that, girl. But you have potential. Keep it up and you could find yourself among Earth’s ACTUAL warriors. I will train you.”

Videl’s first instinct is to refuse, but seeing Goten and Trunks flying and firing blasts, throwing punches and kicks way above her head convinces her that she wants that power.

3 days into Vegeta’s training, Videl is almost destroyed, but feeling incredibly strong. Feeling bold, Gohan helps her up and wipes her hair from her face.

“You’ve come so far, Videl. I’m impressed!” Gohan smiled. “But you should consider cutting your hair.”

“You like girls with short hair?” Videl stared into Gohan’s eyes.

“Uh, I don’t know.” Gohan was stupefied. “But as a fighter your hair is just getting in the way.”

“And those pigtails make free weapons for your enemy.” Vegeta chided without looking.”

“WHAT’S IT MATTER TO YOU?” Videl yells before angrily leaving and flying off, not even realizing this was the first time she flew home on her own.

The next day the Saiyans were surprised to see Videl show up with the pixie-cut.

“Who’s the new boy?” Goten energetically blurted out.

Videl ignored him. “I have an idea!” All eyebrows quirked. “We should all enter the Tenkaichi Budokai!”

“The what?” Vegeta was already agitated.

“It’s the tournament my dad one decades ago.” Gohan replied.

“Videl’s dad won the last tournament, but that was before I was born.” Goten added.

“And why should we enter?” Vegeta scoffed.

“For one, first prize is 100 million Zeni.” Videl quickly added.

“My wife is heir to the biggest fortune on the planet. I don’t need money.”

“More importantly, I need someone to knock my dad off his high horse.”

Vegeta smiled. “That’s almost worth it.”

Videl got angry. “Come on! What will it take?”

“What if I join in?” A familiar voice echoed through the room.

“Dad?”

“Kakarot?”

Goten, Trunks, and Videl looked around confused as Vegeta and Gohan looked with sudden hope and excitement.

“It turns out that due to my heroic efforts in life, I've earned a bit of credit! I can spend a full day on Earth. I think I’ll use it to fight in the tournament!”

“At last! I can prove that I have surpassed you!” Vegeta shouted with glee.

Goku laughed. “You can try.”

Fast-forward to the tournament. Pretty much everything proceeds as normal, with a few changes. First, Gohan enters under his real name. Second, Tien enters the tournament as well, eliminating Mighty Mask from reaching the final 16. Third, as Gohan’s abilities are public knowledge, and speculation about his presence at the Cell Games has already started, the no-Super Saiyan rule isn’t instituted among the Z fighters.

Goten and Trunks dominate the Junior Division, and meet up in the finals. But this time, Trunks’ hubris gets the better of him, and Goten is victorious. In the exhibition, Goten takes to Mr. Satan’s antics, and hits him softly. Mr. Satan plays it up(although it did really hurt), and the “Let Goten win” narrative holds true.

The main tournament begins proper, and the 1st round looks like this:

Krillin Vs Pintar

Ma Jr(Piccolo) Vs Shin

Videl Vs Spopovitch

Gohan Vs Kibito

Vegeta Vs Goku

Tien Vs Yamu

18 Vs Jewel

Mr. Satan Vs Killa

Krillin eliminated Pintar with a single kick.

Piccolo again discovers Shin’s identity as the Supreme Kai, but at Gohan’s insistence goes through with the fight. It is an intense battle, but in the end Shin uses speed and tactics to outplay Piccolo and overpower him, winning by ringout.

Videl beats down Spopovitch, and once again kicks hard enough to spin his head around. He returns his head to proper position, then assaults Videl mercilessly. However, under Vegeta’s tutelage, Videl has grown smarter and tougher. A surprise energy blast blinds Spopovitch, and a swift kick gives Videl the win by ringout. She is still heavily hurt, and Goku retrieves Senzu Beans to help her out. Spopovitch almost attacks in rage, but Yamu reminds him of their mission.

Kibito once again asks to see Gohan’s power. Gohan goes full power Super Saiyan 2, then Yamu and Spopovitch attack. However, this time, Gohan overpowers Supreme Kai’s hold, and easily knocks away his attackers. Yamu is disqualified, but it doesn’t matter. Enraged at their failure, Babidi blows up their heads from afar. Kibito, unsure of how to proceed, forfeits the match.

After an intermission due to mysterious cranial combustions, Vegeta battles Goku. This battle is by far the most exciting of the 1st round. Vegeta and Goku both battle at full power Super Saiyan 2, shaking the very earth beneath them. Eventually, Goku uses Instant Transmission, which Vegeta specifically trained for. He counters the move, and drives Goku into the ground for a ringout. Vegeta is victorious.

Tien advances automatically due to Yamu’s disqualification and subsequent death.

18 eliminates Jewel with ease.

Mr. Satan, though rusty from lack of training, overpowers Killa and wins a hard-fought victory.

Between rounds, Supreme Kai explains what happened with Yamu and Spopovitch, about the wizard Babidi and their purpose here. Goku, hopeful for more fights, says he’ll go, but Vegeta convinces them to let the tournament play out first, as he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to face Gohan, who he now views as Kakarot’s(and possibly his) superior.

Round Two begins.

Krillin faces the Supreme Kai, and although he puts up a decent fight, Shin defeats him handily.

Videl goes all-out against Gohan. He pulls his punches and avoids direct attacks, enraging her. Her ferocity is eventually enough to force him to go Super Saiyan, and he throws her out as gently as he can.

Tien battles Vegeta, and is enough to force Vegeta to Super Saiyan 2, where he easily beats Tien unconscious.

Before the final match of the 2nd round, 18 corners Mr. Satan. She reminds him that he’s screwed, period. She makes him an offer. She can make him look good in defeat for 50,000,000 Zeni, or she’ll throw the match for 100,000,000 Zeni. Mr. Satan, not wanting to face Vegeta, chooses the first. 18 fakes great effort, but knocks Mr. Satan out of the ring. The crowd immediately assumes he would rather give up his title than hit a woman, protecting his reputation.

Supreme Kai challenges Gohan in the Semi-Finals, and puts him through paces. However, he is no match for Gohan at Super Saiyan 2, and Gohan is victorious.

Vegeta, upon seeing 18 across the ring, remembers the humiliation she put him through in the Android Saga, and immediately assaults at Super Saiyan 2. 18 only holds out for a few minutes before Vegeta begins a vicious beatdown. He relentlessly hits her, years of aggression unleashed, to the dismay and boos of the crowd. Krillin screams for him to stop. Vegeta looks to mock him, but sees Gohan, his final opponent. He tosses 18 out of the ring, mercifully ending the fight.

There’s a short intermission as anticipation builds for the final match. People throughout the world are tuning in for the fight of the century. When the fight begins, Vegeta and Gohan both start at Full Power Super Saiyan 2. The fight is so intense most people have trouble following. Slow-Motion cameras are brought in just to capture clips of the battle. Things escalate when Vegeta attempts a Galick Gun, which becomes a full-on beam struggle as Gohan counters with a Masenko. Vegeta appears to have the advantage, pressing down on Gohan, until Gohan starts to transform. Vegeta abandons the struggle as Gohan goes Super Saiyan 3. Vegeta mocks Gohan, claiming him to be desperate. Gohan counters by telling Vegeta he already lost. Gohan transformed first, and he won’t give Vegeta the chance. Vegeta instantly realizes his error. He tries to go Super Saiyan 3, but Gohan eliminates him before he can do so.

Gohan wins the Tenkaichi Budokai.

Gohan accepts the title, but refers everything else to Chi-Chi, who is ecstatic. Goku locates Babidi’s hideout via Instant Transmission, and Goku, Vegeta, Gohan, Krillin, Piccolo, Tien, 18, Videl, Kibito, and Shin warp to that location, with Goten and Trunks grabbing on at the last second to come along.

The door to Babidi’s hideout was open. Supreme Kai warns them of the obvious trap, but the team doesn’t care, and steps right in. Piccolo and Krillin protest Trunks and Goten coming along, but Vegeta intercedes.

“The boys are stronger than either of you. If you can go, they can go.”

They enter the hideout, and Pui Pui welcomes them. He explains the 3 fighters before Babidi system.at the Z Fighters have to beat 3 fighters on 3 levels to get to Babidi. Trunks aggressively steps forward to fight Pui Pui. They are transported to Pui Pui’s home, thinking the gravity(10 times that of Earth) gives him the advantage. However, under Vegeta’s tutelage Trunks has dealt with several hundred times Earth’s gravity, and quickly dispatches Pui Pui with the Galick Gun.

Goku gets the opportunity to fight Yakon, and defeats him by going Super Saiyan 2. Yakon eats so much light energy he explodes.

The final warrior is Dabura, and Gohan goes against him. At Super Saiyan 2 Gohan is easily outclassing Dabura, and Babidi is terrified that his plan is failing and he’ll be wiped out. He desperately urges Dabura to do something. Thinking quickly, Dabura turns and spits on Videl, turning her to stone. Gohan breaks down, and goes full rage mode, transforming to Super Saiyan 3. With an instantaneous strike, he decapitates Dabura.

In this moment, Babidi sees his chance, and enters Gohan’s mind. He latches on to Gohan’s rage and tries to awaken the darkness within him. Gohan fights and resists, but Babidi sees an opportunity in Gohan’s mind. Using his magic, he regrows Gohan’s tail and shows him a full moon. The entire team is terrified as they have to fight the most powerful force they have ever seen...

Majin Golden Great Ape Gohan.

The raging Golden Oozaru levels mountains and knocks the Z Fighters around effortlessly. Babidi woops in victory as his power needed to revive Majin Buu goes from zero to full instantly.

Trunks and Goten go Super Saiyan 2, Piccolo, Tien, Shin, Kibito, and Krillin charge up to full power, and Vegeta and Goku go Super Saiyan 3, and they are still barely holding on. They barely notice Majin Buu’s awakening, as they are relentlessly beat down. All seems lost until Vegeta sees Videl awakening from her petrification.

“Kakarot! The girl!”

Goku looks confused until he also sees Videl. He quickly grabs her and carries her up. Explaining the situation as best he can, he tells Videl she is the only one can reach him.

Videl calls out to Gohan, and does get his attention. After some loving words, and finally recognizing that she is okay, Gohan regains control.... and starts to transform.

His eyes go yellow, his hair grows long and red fur adorns his chest.

Gohan has gone Super Saiyan 4.

Everyone stands in awe of Gohan’s overwhelming power.

The team moves on to face Babidi, who transports everyone out of the hideout. He boasts about the awakening of Majin Buu, who looks around happily and yawns. Babidi commands Buu to destroy the Z Fighters, and Gohan obliterates Buu with a single ki blast. Babidi is shocked and scared frozen. Piccolo moves forward and chops Babidi in half. In his final breaths, Babidi pleads for mercy.

“Where was mercy when Buu was unleashed upon the galaxy?” Shin spat through gritted teeth. “Where was mercy when he slaughtered my fellow Kais?”

“Please... That was my father’s doing....”

“And you sought to set him loose on the universe once more. You give no mercy, and you shall receive none.”

And Shin annihilates Babidi.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Buu reforms in front of everyone, and seems unfazed by the previous event.

“You strong! You play with Buu some more?” Buu’s stomach rumbles. “Buu Hungry!”

After much deliberation, Goku convinces the team that Buu might not be a threat so long as he is satiated. However, he burned most of his remaining time, and leaves to spend the rest of it with Chi-Chi and Goten. The rest take Buu to Capsule Corp for a post-tournament/post-saving the world feast.

#whatif #dragon ball z #what if #dbz #story

[torendheavenandearth]

2.8

“This is the first Commandment of BATALA - Violence against violence.”

▼

Ang Nilapastangan will not live. She knows this already as truth. She is like a star rising, a comet paradox. Upon burning red wings she ascends to face the angel horde. With her bare fists she dispatches the guardian anghel, who are shackled to their superiors by chains infused with the light of Idiot God.

She knows she might die here, despite being the Swordbreaker. 

Despite having faced God Himself. 

She knows because while the Karanduun may be powerful, they are still single people.

And so she ascends, cutting a blazing path through that cloud of white marble anghel, until she arrives at the doors of the cathedral, which has been plucked out of the ground and made to fly through sacred-blasphemous miracles. The anghel swarm her from every side but now she has no intention of holding back. She becomes an avatar of violence, unflinching and unwavering. Her Gahum pulses from her in invisible tsunami waves, blasting back with invisible force the angels too stupid to assault her.

She is Karanduun, and she will not die on her knees, she will not die on her feet: she will die above them all, exalted by the sky.

The anghel she slams and breaks and shatters and crushes and slashes are from every echelon, every class of the Koro Esfero. Marble goblinoid angels, stunted and broken, beautifully sculpted ones that look human but with ceramic skin (a detail betrayed by the seams between the platings). Some of them attack her with weapons made of pure light, or with their razor sharp feathers, or with bullets gleaming gold, polished by holy oil.

Every single one, Ang Nilapastangan parries or dodges. She is become violence, and she will not be stopped.

As she fends them off, the huge double doors of the flying cathedral opens a crack, and out walks a man--no he is taller than a man. The seams in his skin showcase his true nature. He wears a prue white rayadillo. When he appears, he performs the sign of the Triangle across his chest.

And then, he walks over to the edge of the cathedral and raises his hand.

“Ang Nilapastangan! Qayin!” shouts out Kapitan Briogo, and Ang Nilapastangan bursts like a dying star. She turns to Kapitan Briogo and, upon six burning wings (a broken seraph), she dives toward him.

He squints his eyes and raises a hand to either catch or shield himself--it doesn’t matter to Ang Nilapastangan, as she slams into him and brings him up to the sky.

Up there, she avoids the white beams of light made to disintegrate her easily. She hurls Kapitan Briogo to the sky. “I should have killed you long ago.”

Kapitan Briogo turns around and strikes his chest. It shatters, and his ceramic skin falls apart, giving way to his burning angelic form. He becomes a man of blue lightning-flame. “You should have,” says Kapitan Briogo. He unsheathes his sabre and summons seven thousand more from his flame. Then, with another movement, sends them flying towards Ang Nilapastangan.

Ang Nilapastangan shoots up, quick enough to avoid all the blades before they even fly toward where she was. She catches Kapitan Briogo by the neck and slams her fist into his face. The impact sends crimson shockwaves that disturb the forest. 

She strikes again, sending him flying even further up. She shoots up again, and she is above him, and she kicks down. Her countenance has become Bathala Inaginid, as she sends the anghel Kapitan hurling toward the ground. 

Dust billows into titanic clouds. 

Ang Nilapastangan summons pastel power around her fist, and then rushes down. Straight, straight down.

Her fist slams against the earth, sending the spear of Bathala Inaginid straight through the land, splitting it in half. Before she can move, Kapitan Briogo is there, blade cutting twice.

Ang Nilapastangan avoids the first cut. The second cut embeds onto her chest.

She surges forward but then her fist only meets a phantasm of that lightning-flame. His bleeding blue sabre is behind her, now, and going straight through her stomach.

Ang Nilapastangan scowls. She has been skewered before, this is nothing to her. She lets her Gahum blaze, lets the crimson of her soul envelop the wounds. She will parry it impossibly, as if it has never pierced her. She turns and slams her elbow against Kapitan Briogo, and he is flung back through twenty trees, destroying them in a single mighty thew.

She turns around and the hole in the middle of her shirt burns through her. It doesn’t matter. Blood spills from her mouth. It doesn’t matter. Her clothes have fallen apart a long time ago, replaced by a regalia of god-flame. It doesn’t matter.

Ang Nilapastangan moves forward, riding upon flames like a demon blacksmith billow-pumping into a furnace. She lets her purely crimson flame engulf her hand, her third eye, her entire countenance. 

“BATHALA INAGINID! Answer the prayer of your slave!” she yells. “My fist invokes thee and my heart is thy harbinger!” Ang Nilapastangan’s feet have turned into blades of crimson flame. No, now they are less like flame and more like spouts or tongues of pure crimson soulstuff, eradicating all matter it comes across. Without even looking at them, she parries away bullets and cannonballs and ballista javelins from the cathedrals and backup from above.

“Through my soul I revoke and accept BATALA’S First Commandment!” Ang Nilapastangan is like a blazing bird of prey, a bonfire sarimanok descending upon their quarry. Her fist has turned into the screaming maw of INAGINID, and she descends followed by a parade of a million fists: “「THE GATOS PARADE OF A THOUSAND THOUSAND FISTS」!” and the words inscribe themselves upon the very air in burning symbols.

But Kapitan Briogo is up on his feet, a being of blue lightning flame, controlled and redirecting, static upon the earth. Thunderclouds form in the next instant, and a lightning bolt slams against his hand, which he catches and turns into an impossible spear. 

As if in answer, Kapitan Briogo bellows out with a voice like rolling thunder: “In the name of DYOSVETA, GOD the Father! And YEZU, GOD the Son--” he pulls his hand back, lightning fulminating furiously, barely contained. It turns into a javelin of thunderstorms, wrath of Jupiter. “--AND SHINSEINA YUREI, GOD the Holiest Spirit: forgive me for the penance I must break! I atone with the blood of my enemy! 「HEAVEN’S SPEAR IMPALES LUCIFER」!” 

Briogo, The Fulminating Lightning-Seraph, hurls the lightning javelin, which has grown in size as the thunderstorm infuses it. Ang Nilapastangan, once Qayin, now the Crimson Bodhisattva Biraddali, throws her world-energy fist, and the parade descends like a shower of meteor-haymakers.

They clash. A parade of fists slamming relentlessly against the fulmination. The lightning continues to grow in size, getting thicker, dragon-clouds wisping around the plasmic lance. The clash sends tendrils of existence-erasing brush-strokes, killing anghel, destroying the flying glass-ships and crippling whatever blasphemancies has caused the cathedral to soar through the air like an airship. The glass-horses melt away underneath the seats of their masters, whose skins blister and wither away in the presence of Gahum meeting Gahum.

Ang Nilapastangan and Kapitan Briogo’s faces are both nonchalant masks of observance. When Ang Nilapastangan uses her Gahum to slam herself to the ground, and then streak straight up to Briogo in the span of half-a-blink, the seraph captain has already seen her coming, has raised both hands to stop her. 

But her fist is the fist of INAGINID. She slams once and Briogo catches it, but a second fist of pure crimson and violent Gahum slams against that, and it melts away Briogo’s body.

The second fist slams against his chest. There, Ang Nilapastangan finds Kapitan Briogo’s clockwork heart. Without another word, she pulls it out.

Kapitan Briogo does not fall to his feet. He simply watches as Ang Nilapastangan crushes the clockwork heart, and the razor spark that is the fulmination of Briogo dissipates.

The burning Jupiter spear envelops the million fist parade, melting it away, piercing through the clouds, the sky, the firmament, and singes away a portion of heaven.

Ang Nilapastangan falls to her knees as Kapitan Briogo falls backwards, melting away like wax thrown into water. All around her is a smoking crater, devoid of color, turned ashen gray.

Ang Nilapastangan’s chest constricts. She can’t breathe. Too much of her power is used. Her Ginhawa falters, her connection with Hiyang deteriorates. She tries to get up, up to her feet, but she falls to one side. Like a useless damsel, she lies, prone.

The Cathedral looms over her. She sees the shadow, at first, and then the statues, and then the countless legions of anghel that buzz around it like flies around shit. Ang Nilapastangan finds it somewhere in her--perhaps it was the umalagad, the ancestor spirits--but she manages to push herself up to her feet.

She looks up. It’s not over. 

A being walks out from the cathedral doors. When a pack of anghel offer to carry Him, He waves a hand away and they kneel. He is swathed in robes dyed red from His own blood. Upon His head is a crown of flowers, with thorns evergrowing so they are perpetually digging deeper into His skull. He cannot see; the blood masks His eyes.

He walks with a cross, which He uses like a walking cane. When He embeds it onto the ground, He does it as if it’s a sword.

“Qayin,” He speaks, and His voice echoes in glorious sorrow.

“Yehoshowah,” Ang Nilapastangan says, and she is powerful enough to say His mortal name. “And here I thought you were out in the Neverending Ocean, conquering your newest universe.”

“I am omnipresent,” says Yehoshowah. “I know no bounds.”

Bullshit, says Ang Nilapastangan, but she knows that she cannot throw her moxie around here. “So You have come.”

“Of course,” says Yehoshowah, and His voice is accompanied by the weeping of the penitents, crying from His roses. “You know I take it personally. Especially to those that have offended The Father.”

Ang Nilapastangan frowns. “What, daddy issues?” It does not pass her mind that they are communicating potentially a hundred of feet from each other, yet are doing it clearly, with no wind nor earth to buffer their voices.

“You know why I’ve come,” says Yehoshowah. “I’m afraid I have to cut the preamble.”

Ang Nilapastangan is still burning.

“The Karanduun, you sung heroes. You worthless yesterday heroes yet somehow worthy of epics.” Yehoshowah scoffs. “You are a paradox that must be extinguished. You must be annihilated. You are blasphemers, devil-interfacers, threatening the innocent people with false hope..” 

“We’re inevitable, Yehoshowah, YEZU. You cannot stop us.”

“As long as your power is not enough, you will fall away. You have failed once, against The Father, who took advantage of your hesitation. As long as your power is not enough, as long as you do not know the true meaning of attaining heaven, of making God bleed, then you will fail.”

“I’ve attained the true meaning,” says Ang Nilapastangan. “However I have attained it too late.”

“God’s hand waits for none,” says Yehoshowah, examining his bloodied and blackened fingers, where triangle shaped holes ever-bleed. “Do you wish any more words before I bring you into the embrace of ultimate penance?”

“You will be torn asunder,” says Ang Nilapastangan. “You will be bled by our hands.”

“Our? No matter how many you are, if you do not have the power, you will not succeed. Climb the ladder. Kill whom you need to. Divinity through Bloodshed, Transcendence through Murder. Decapitate the weak and feed upon their brain matter. Become God, and only then will you learn our burden.”

“Pathetic,” says Ang Nilapastangan.

“Fool. You lowlifes are such idiotic, uneducated rabble.” With a nonchalant roll of His eyes, Yehoshowah snaps his fingers and utters ”「Stigmata」.” Three black nails erupt from the ground. 

They intersect across Ang Nilapastangan’s heart. Three gigantic nails skewering her, perverting her into a shape inhuman.

No blood pours, she has not been bled. But her Gahum falters.

She doesn’t cry out in pain. She doesn’t resist. It will be worthless to, anyway. This is the consequences of what she’s done. This is the consequence of not doing what she thought she was supposed to do in the beginning. The consequence in believing too much in one’s own power.

“SIDAPA,” says Qayin, and she stares up into the sky. “I’m tired. Take care of Angela.”

Karanduun live on forever, however.

▼

Angela wakes up with tears in her eyes and a pain in her chest, as if something has been ripped from her the night before and she only notices it now.

She’s lying down on something wooden. She feels it moving, vibrating. When she opens her eyes, she’s greeted by the weirdly beautiful view of kabalyero trees bending over her, revealing their crimson flowers. 

“Awake?” It’s Jaime. His voice is gruff, scratched. “Good.”

Angela pushes herself up to a sitting position. She finds that they’re on the back of an open wagon, pulled by a… centaur woman?

The woman’s upper half turns around. There are little horns on her brow. “Ah, your cute little friend has awoken! Good. I was afraid if she didn’t we would have to take her to a healer!”

Jaime manages a slight smile and nods, seemingly appreciatively.

While Angela’s chest hurts, she knows that it’s an emotional problem. (Or perhaps it was spiritual?) “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.” Her throat is terribly parched, and she subconsciously looks around for some kind of water.

Jaime raises his canteen. Angela accepts it with thanks and drinks from the canteen. “Where are we? Where’s the barangay? Where’s Nila?”

Jaime looks to the horizon behind her. Angela manages to move around enough to look at what he’s looking at.

A violent clash of colors hangs suspended in the air, as if a sky deity painted brush strokes across the sky. “What’s that?”

“Residues of Gahum Emanation,” says Jaime. “She fought with someone powerful.”

“Nila?” asks the centaur woman.

Jaime sighs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, manang, but I can’t tell you.”

“Ah, no no, it’s okay. I get you.” And she went back to pulling the wagon.

“Is she…” drawls Angela as she looks at the horse-woman. “A centaur, or something?”

“Anggitay,” says Jaime. “That’s what they’re called here.”

“Huh. All right.” Angela turns back to the Gahum display. “You think Nila survived?”

Jaime doesn’t respond. The silence of the wind cuts through them.

“I can only hope, I guess,” continues Angela. She shrugs and says, “Well, she’s Nila. I’m pretty sure she can handle herself.”

Jaime nods at that. “That’s a good look at it, and yes, I agree. Ang-- Nila should be able to take care of herself. She is powerful, after all.” There’s another silence. “Unless.”

“Unless what?” asks Angela.

“Unless she meets someone more powerful than her.” But then he shrugs. “Let’s not think about that for now.”

Angela lets out a ragged breath and nods. “Right. Where are we heading right now?” She pulls her legs in and sits on the other side of the wagon. Jaime is missing a shirt, and is only wearing balloon pants. Gauzes wrap around his upper body. “Are you okay?”

Jaime nods. “Just a few scrapes. Don’t worry about it.”

“You saved me, then?”

Jaime looks ahead, to where the anggitay is walking down.

“Thanks, I guess.” Angela scrunches up her nose. “Anyway, where are we headed?”

“The City of San Isidro,” says Jaime, still looking ahead. “The Jewel Port. Big place. Nexus of trade.”

“And what are we going to do there?”

Jaime shrugs. “Look for a reason to keep living, I guess.”

Angela watches Jaime for a bit, and then turns back to the fantastic mandala of colors that the Gahum generated. Somehow, Angela can spot the crimson brush strokes of Ang Nilapastangan’s Usbong. Angela hoped that she’s okay, that she’s still fighting, or that she’s running towards them right now, having neutralized the threat.

She wishes, and continues to wish. Angela could use a wish granted right now. Any kind of miracle. For the first time in a long time, Angela clasps her hands together and prays. Jaime prods her forehead.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Praying. You know, maybe some benevolent God is still watching over me and can get me some help.”

“God is dead. BATALA is dead,” says Jaime. “The only God that will hear you will be the Holy Trinity, and they’re not the people you want hearing your prayer.”

Angela rolls her eyes. She looks away, but then utters a prayer anyway. 

“Please send me help, Lord Jesus. Please, I need any kind of help right now. Please keep watching over me and protecting me, and please protect Mama back at home.” She does the sign of the cross and seals the prayer with an Amen.

Jaime’s jaw is clenched; Angel can feel the nervousness emanating from him. “I hope that doesn’t bring us any trouble.”

Angela looks away and at the colored sky again. It’s slowly falling together to create some kind of rainbow. Somehow, after squinting hard enough, Angela can see Ang Nilapastangan--or at least, something that looks like Ang Nilapastangan’s body--ascending that rainbow up to the sky.

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#to rend heaven and earth #web serial #web novel #fantasy #filipino #outbreak #2.8