#with a door as his raft he took to the water at the city’s edge and paddles until he found land once more

[grabbedbag]

Thinking about Mono’s comic chapter

#a separate event from the school incident in my canon #he tried to make up for his actions in that event by aiding a pocket of runaways he’d manage to stumble across #they were weary of him seeing as he was fresh from the school but he was gradually welcomed into the group after his powers proved useful #it was a rather sturdy band of kids they had made a home for themselves in the husk of an abandoned apartment #he’d finally thought he found a place to be welcome and safe in #but of course wherever he goes disaster follows #the hide out was attacked and already present structural damage resulted in an electrical fire #there was panic with everyone rushing to flee from the strange skeletal arms snatching away their friends #as much as he loathed himself for running away the first time (leaving those who depended on him in danger) he found himself doing it again #this time excusing it as leading the monster away from the rest of the group #he cowarded within the broken tv cornered and out of options #this was the first time he managed to warp without the assistance of the television #found himself back on the streets of the city with the flaming building behind him #it was at that moment he knew he could no longer stay in this city #with a door as his raft he took to the water at the city’s edge and paddles until he found land once more #the woods was a nice change of scenery #💼 hcs

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Fluff prompt #38? "Are you alright?" "I will be."

Well, this one certainly went in an unexpected direction! The quote winds up a bit altered, but I think it fits the spirit of the thing.

I’m working off this prompt list - send me an ask or @ me with your request!

--

The Bentley rolled to a stop in front of the bookshop just as the all-clear signaled the end of the night’s bombing. They hadn’t been in any danger during the drive; exhausted as he was, Crowley still had the strength to make sure of that. Probably.

Crowley only had to keep it together for another minute, maybe two. His feet ached from the burns, stinging like a sunburn as high as his knees, flaring every time he shifted his feet on the pedals. But he’d made it this far. He was fine, and he could continue to be fine until Aziraphale was in the shop.

He pressed his lips together, kept his hands on the wheel, and resisted the urge to fidget.

“Well,” Aziraphale said, still clutching his bag of books as if it was a life raft. “That was certainly a thrilling experience.” He frowned tartly at the dashboard, making his true feelings for the Bentley abundantly clear.

“Nh. Got you home, didn’t it?” Crowley glared out the window at the shop, shifting his feet between the pedals as inconspicuously as possible.

“Yes, and the fact that we’re still in one piece is clearly the most incredible miracle of the night.”

“You really haven’t changed, have you?”

“I should think not. I am an angel, and the nature of my being is incorruptible, eternal, and unaffected by the comings and goings of mortal beings—”

“Meaning you’re just as much a smug bastard as ever.”

Well. That hadn’t taken long to fall apart.

Really, the entire evening had been one disaster after another. His intelligence had revealed a team of Nazi spies was meeting with a contact at an old townhouse in Soho, so Crowley had settled in to wait it out. He had his fingers in everything these days, from British Counterintelligence to street gangs, and the opportunities for a bit of chaos during the Blitz were never ending.

Then he’d received word that the drop had been changed. And that the contact was a certain local and well-established bookseller. Meaning that the idiot being duped by the Nazis was his idiot. He’d barely been updated on the new location in time, and of course Aziraphale had picked a church, of all the places in the city, a church to meet his bloody spies, and Crowley had to charge in, no plan, no preparation, and now he hurt and Aziraphale seemed determined to make this as miserable as he possibly could, and really was it any surprise after the last time—

Crowley didn’t want to part angry, not again, but his feet hurt and he didn’t know how to stop himself.

In the silence, Aziraphale shifted in his seat, looking at the door but not opening it. “I…Crowley, I am…very glad…that you were there tonight.”

“Don’t thank me,” Crowley blurted, mostly out of habit. “Just. Be safe. Be smart.” One quick glance to the side, then glaring at the windscreen again. “And stay away from Nazis, it can’t be that hard.”

“No, I suppose it isn’t. I just thought…ah, well.” He opened the door, but didn’t try to leave.

“So,” Crowley started.

“So,” Aziraphale agreed.

Deep breath. “Guess I’ll see you next century—”

But at the same moment, from Aziraphale, “Do you want to come in?”

More than anything.

Aziraphale still didn’t face him, and his stiff shoulders gave no hint of his emotions, but Crowley wasn’t going to let this – whatever this was – pass him by.

“I mean…I could…I can…” His hand fumbled for the door latch, popping it open, almost leaping out onto the pavement before the invitation could be withdrawn. In his urgency, he entirely forgot about the pain in his feet.

Until he put his weight on them.

“AAAH!” With a strangled gasp, Crowley collapsed like felled tree.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale was beside him, impossibly quickly, hands fluttering over his face and chest. “Oh, my word. What – what happened? What’s wrong? Oh, Lord, is it—”

“Calm down, Angel.” His voice still sounded tight, but there wasn’t much Crowley could do about that. “Told you. Hallowed ground.” With some effort, he managed to sit up, one hand braced on the floor of the Bentley.

“I thought – you said – ‘being on the beach in bare feet’ – this isn’t—!”

“S’nothing.” Crowley eyed the distance to the driver’s seat. He could probably get himself in, but it wouldn’t be dignified. Well. Any and all dignity had long since gone out the window. “Just need to…”

He pulled his legs in and tried to stand – the pain hit him halfway up – and with another cry of “NrrrrrrAAAH!” he toppled over, slamming his head against the street.

“Oh, oh, Crowley!” His eyes blinked open, and behind the flashing supernovae that filled his vision loomed Aziraphale’s concerned face. “My dear fellow, are you alright?”

“Told you. S’nothing.” He’d need another minute or two before trying to sit up. “Be fine in the morning.”

“Yes, I’ll see to that.” Before Crowley could ask what that even meant, Aziraphale scooped him up, one arm under his knees, the other across his back, cradling him like a child.

“What? Angel – stop – you – Ngk!”

“Would you rather lay in the street all night?” He nudged the Bentley door shut with his foot. “Let’s get you inside.”

“But—”

“Hush.” He held Crowley a little closer, the demon’s head against his shoulder, and started walking. “Do hold on to my neck if you need balance, and try to relax.”

There was no chance of relaxing, not when his entire body was pressed into the warm curve of Aziraphale’s stomach, not when his vision was filled with that soft face, jaw hardened in determination. Especially not once he realized he could feel the angel’s heartbeat, steady and calm. His own was racing erratically, and every nerve in his body was raw, on edge.

As Aziraphale stepped past the Bentley into the street proper, Crowley’s heels taped lightly against his side, and sharp pain shot up to his knees. Crowley flinched, just slightly, but immediately Aziraphale stopped to shift his arms, making sure Crowley’s legs wouldn’t swing as much.

“Better?”

“Nh. Yuh.” Not knowing what else to do, Crowley slipped his arm across Aziraphale’s shoulders. He wasn’t sure it was any more comfortable, but he liked it.

Only when they reached the steps to the shop did Crowley realize something was missing. “Your books!”

“Still in that horrid vehicle.”

“But…” Aziraphale loved his books. Especially the prophecy books. He’d carried some of them around the world for the better part of a millennium. Crowley knew that, it was why he’d made sure to protect them from the bomb blast.

But, counter to all logic, Aziraphale just shook his head, as if they didn’t matter at all. “They’ll keep for an hour or two.” He nudged the door with his shoulder. “I have more important matters to attend to first.”

And he stepped across the threshold into the brightly lit shop.

--

It hadn’t changed. Eighty years since his last visit, and everything was still the same.

Oh, there were a few more tacky figurines and baroque sculptures scattered around; the books were piled even taller, suggesting Aziraphale had acquired far more than he’d sold in that time, and cloth bindings seemed to be giving way to leather again. The lights were electric now, but the gas fixtures clearly hadn’t been replaced, merely altered. The shelves, the columns, the furniture – everything was just as Crowley remembered.

He sat on the sofa now, feet soaking in a basin of hot water. Aziraphale knelt beside it, carefully applying angelic healing a little at a time. Crowley’s body couldn’t take much more holy energy without breaking.

His feet were much worse than he’d thought. Bright pink and deep red in patches, covered with angry swollen blisters that started between his toes and wrapped back around his ankles. When he’d rolled up his trouser legs, he’d found smaller burn patches all up his shins, as if the hallowed ground had somehow splashed him almost to his knees.

“Does this usually happen when a demon walks onto hallowed ground?” Aziraphale ran a dampened cloth across Crowley’s leg, gently wiping away a burn.

“Dunno, I’m the only one stupid enough to try it.”

“Crowley,” he murmured, somewhere between warning and exasperation.

“Sssss.” He slumped a little further on the sofa, wiggling his aching toes. “I’ve seen a few demons get close to holy ground or objects. Burns and blisters, yeah, that’s normal. But I’ve never seen it this bad.” Aziraphale’s fingers ran down his ankle, setting off more sparks of pain. “Mmmmph. Should heal though. Almost everything heals eventually.”

Demonic self-healing took time, of course, and hurt all the while.

“They’re coming along,” Aziraphale commented, gently lifting Crowley’s left foot out of the water. His hand on the back of the ankle was as gentle as possible, but still made Crowley squirm.

“Nnnnnnnrk. Why did you have to meet them in a bloody church?”

“I…” Aziraphale carefully brushed the cloth across Crowley’s foot. It tingled – not entirely pleasantly – but the skin left behind was less burned, and the blisters a little smaller. “I’m not really sure.”

“C’mon, Angel.” Crowley shifted again, fingers curling into the sofa cushion. “I know you changed the spot at the last minute. And don’t tell me that was their idea.”

“No…” For a long moment, Aziraphale didn’t say anything further, just continued to wash Crowley’s foot with slow, gentle motions. When he’d cleared the left foot as much as he could, he lowered it back into the water and started on the right. “I just…I was so flattered. To be asked to help. To trap spies and book thieves! To…be part of a team.” The cloth slowed to a stop. “I just…I suppose some part of me hoped that Heaven would look down and, and see…”

You wanted them to be proud of you. Not that he could say it. Aziraphale’s feelings towards his superiors were as complicated as ever.

“Well.” Aziraphale started into his task again, perhaps a bit too briskly. “Good thing no one did look, considering how it all turned out.”

“Angel…” Crowley pushed himself up a little, to better watch the white curly head bent over his feet. “Are you alright?”

“What? Don’t – that’s absurd – you’re the one who’s – why wouldn’t I be—?”

“You trusted her. That woman. And she pointed a gun to your head.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale quickly lowered Crowley’s foot into the water, but not fast enough for him to miss how the angel’s fingers trembled. He gripped the sides of the basin. “Do you…do you think me very foolish? To fall for…such an obvious trick?”

“Not at all.” But Aziraphale didn’t look up, didn’t move from his spot. “This…isn’t the first time it’s happened, is it?”

He shook his head. “Never this bad, but…I always throw my lot in with the worst sort of people, don’t I? Or if I do find decent types, I just – just drive them away. I never learn my lesson. Good lord, there must be something wrong with me.”

“Of course there isn’t.” Crowley wished Aziraphale would meet his eyes.

“And it was so obvious! If I’d just stopped to think for five minutes…”

“You can’t blame yourself for humans being—”

“Why? Am I so desperate for approval, I just – just throw my lot in with whoever comes by? Why do I keep—”

“Because you’re lonely!”

Crowley hadn’t meant to say it, never mind with such feeling. He wanted to take it back, but Aziraphale’s head jerked up, finally met his eyes – oh, yes. He could see how right he was.

Eighty years, with no one but humans for company. Crowley could remember how awful that was. How much worse, when you knew there was another way? When you understood what you were missing?

“Angel…I’m…” The word stuck in his throat. “I’m sorry. I should have come back sooner, instead of just…just sleeping it off.”

“And I could have gone to you,” Aziraphale said softly. “I wanted to, you know. So many times, I just…”

Crouched beside the basin, Aziraphale slid his arm around Crowley’s legs, leaned forward to rest his head against the demon’s knees. Crowley laid his hand on the angel’s head, fingers burrowing into soft, feathery curls.

They didn’t say anything. There was nothing to say, not with words at least.

After a time, Aziraphale whispered, “Do you think – is it – are we…alright?”

Crowley stroked his hair one more time. “We will be.”

#good omens prime #good omens fanfic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #hurt comfort #hurt crowley #sad aziraphale #love #foot washing #hey finally got a foot washing fic written go me #my writing #prompt fic #tumblr fic

[readerinsertdepot]

The Sound Of Pulling Heaven Down

Pairing: Azumane Asahi x fem!reader

Summary: The first in a collection of oneshots centered around your budding relationship with Asahi as you both navigate through adult life.

Asahi helps you through a rough breakup.

Rating: T (for now)

Tags: Emotional hurt/comfort, friends to eventual lovers with a dash of pining?

Word Count: 2.2K

Somewhere, far away from here I saw stars, stars that I could reach It was a midnight, a silent twilight Fell down, beyond the ocean beach

“Asahi?”

His chest tightened the second he heard your voice over the phone. A delicate rasp that you attempted to mask with the slow, steady pacing of your words. But he knew.

“Can you meet me at the station?”

He always knew.

“Um, of course! I’ll be right there! Just wait for me, okay?” He answered, cradling his cell between his shoulder and head while he struggled to get his shoelaces tied fast enough.

“Okay.”

The relationship that had been built between you and Asahi over the last three years was an odd one. You had met each other in high school but never made it past friendly acquaintances. Even though you had been in the same class, your social circles didn’t quite sync up, especially considering he spent most of his time with the volleyball club and you did not. It wasn’t until a chance encounter in the lobby of your apartment complex that the two of you had started to become close.

After you had a break down and dropped out of your first year at university, you felt lost -- not quite ready to start your life and not quite ready to go home. You were a big fish in a small pond at Karasuno, but once you moved to Tokyo, you found yourself drowning. Asahi had become your life raft in the huge, unfamiliar city that had threatened to pull you under. Occasional meetups to catch up quickly turned into movies every Friday night and beer and ramen every Saturday night. Casual conversations about the weather and missing high school became long discussions about worries, aspirations and everything that came with growing up. You each had someone to confide in and suddenly, you could breathe again.

You were both near inseparable. Until your on again off again boyfriend of five years reappeared into your life about four months into the friendship. You had fallen so hard for him at such a young age, you missed all the red flags. But Asahi saw them. And he hated it. He hated the way your boyfriend treated you like a child who was incapable of making a sound decision yourself and required the majority of your attention. The man was more often than not the cause of your downward spirals, whether it was with a snide comment he made about one of your choices or when he decided to break it off with you because he simply got bored.

It was a vicious cycle he was all too familiar with. You would call. You would timidly ask him to meet you somewhere – usually the train station. He would drop everything he was doing and go straight to you. Then he would stay, just listening, until you felt like you could handle being alone again.

This wasn’t one sided, however. For all the times you called him crying, you were there to talk him down from his self doubt and panic attacks. The things he had been slowly improving on since he was seventeen but couldn’t fully shake. But, with your help, they had become softer and less frequent and it was amazing how you could do that.

One of you was always there, ready to pull the other back up if either of you ever fell, no matter what.

The train car you both sat in was nearly empty and almost completely silent, except for the soft whimpers coming from your hunched frame, swallowed up in a dark, oversized hoodie, sitting next to him. Asahi kept his eyes focused on the large window containing the passing scenery. The houses grew few and far between and then eventually turned into rocky formations that stood firm against the harsh waves of the ocean.

He remembered back to the first night you had called him. The way he grew frantic upon hearing the graveness in your voice. He ran up the stairs to your apartment three floors above his, taking two steps at a time, forgoing the elevator because he was afraid it’d be too slow. You jumped and whipped your head around when Asahi burst in with a loud slam of your door.

The sight of the large man in your doorway, panting with a panicked expression on his face mere seconds after you hand hung up with each other caused you to forget everything except that moment. And you laughed. Not at your friend, but out of relief. Relief that you somehow managed to have someone in your life that would care enough to run to you like that. It rumbled up from the pit of your stomach and bubbled out of you, tears still streaming down you face, further alarming your confused friend who rushed over to crouch down in front of you, unsure of how to help. You reassured him that his presence alone was enough once your fit had subsided and then suggested that the two of you go sit up on the roof.

That was the first night he had witnessed one of your breakups, and he could not for the life of him remember the reason why it had happened in the first place. That was also the night that you vowed to be a support for him with the same amount of selflessness and enthusiasm that he had been for you. And, that was the night, up on that roof with the cool night breeze and city lights reflected in your eyes, that Asahi realized he was falling in love with you.

Together, the both of you walked along the water’s edge, not saying a word. Asahi was always careful not to push you into talking. He knew you would open up when you were ready. You always did. His eyes were trained on the sky, its unique shade of pink caused by the mingling of the twilight’s oranges and purples. He didn’t even notice when you had stopped to remove your shoes and socks.

Once he realized you were no longer next to him, he turned back, catching you a few paces behind him, slowly crouching down to the sand. He walked back and sat beside you, watching as you palmed at the sand, its coarse particles falling through your soft fingers. You started digging, deeper and deeper, until you reached the damp earth, pulling it up to form small mounds. Then Asahi, catching on to what you were doing, began patting down the sides of your makeshift sandcastle.

“He said…” You swallowed hard, refusing to allow the sob you felt traveling up your throat to escape. Asahi continued to scoop up sand, silently waiting for you to finish your thoughts. He looked up a moment and caught a glimpse of your eyes, red, glassed over and puffy. His chest felt heavy and suddenly it was difficult for him to breathe, tears of his own pricking at the corners of his eyes. He cursed internally and tore his gaze away, the empathy he felt towards you too intense.

“He said he was tired of this….” you tried again, “That he needed to be with someone with more direction.”

Asahi took in a deep, shaky breath. “That’s not fair. You shouldn’t be punished for trying to find happiness.” His hands formed tight fists, the skin turning lighter from pulling over his knuckles. “I’ve always wished I could be like you, [y/n]. You’re able to just… jump. I’ve gotten better at it but… I still can’t really bring myself to do it. Not like you.” His voice remained gentle but was steady as his frustrations spilled out of him all at once. “So what if you don’t know exactly what you want for yourself? You’re not afraid to take risks and if something bad happens, you pick yourself right back up and try something else. [Y/N], that’s a gift.”

Air was stuck in your throat and your eyes grew wide, frozen in place by his words. All this time you had been told that you were unreliable and that you needed to settle down. That even though you were able to support yourself on your own, your constant job hopping made you irresponsible. Then here was Asahi, telling you he admired it, that it was valuable, dismantling years of insecurity in less than five minutes. You blinked a few times, taking time to process what he had said and attempting to bring yourself back to life. Suddenly you stood straight up, eyes cast out to the horizon. “I think I’m done,” you firmly announced, startling your friend.

Asahi slowly rose to his feet, side eyeing you suspiciously, unbale to get a read on your expression. This had definitely been one of your quicker outings. “You sure you’re ready to go back?”

You shook your head, gaze still fixed on the waves, “No. With him. We’re finished.” Your legs moved instinctively towards the ocean. “I’m tired of talking through the same things and I don’t need to keep doing this to myself.” Asahi’s hand reached out to catch your shoulder but caught nothing but air as you marched further out into the water, the freezing ocean eventually rising to above your knees. His eyes grew wide and a familiar panic set into his face, finally registering what you were doing.

Once the water had reached your thighs, you turned back to see him, swiftly pacing back and forth while calling out to you, trying to figure out the best way he could bring you back to shore while staying as dry as possible. A smile crept onto your face and broke out into a fit of giggles, the calming sensation of relief overtaking you. The kind that only he had ever been able to provide for you. Asahi stopped immediately in his tracks when he heard the melody of your laughter.

He caught a glimpse of your smile and the anxiety that had commandeered his senses dissipated, relaxation instead melting away the stiffness in his muscles. His breath hitched as he felt heat rise to his cheeks. That was the smile that told him that there was nothing to be afraid of. That smile meant more to him than anything in the world.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath through your nose, and fell, giving way to a soft smack the moment your back hit the water. The sound of vast emptiness filled your ears, allowing you to focus on the rise and fall of your chest as you floated there. Even from thirty feet away, you had been able to see the tenderness in his eyes when he looked at you, further amplifying your feeling of weightlessness.

When your eyes opened, they were met with the dim twinkling of stars against a muted blue sky, signaling that it would be night soon. You thought back to Asahi, who was no doubt sweating bullets at the fact that you had not returned and smiled. He had proven time and time again that he would always be there for you. He had taken on such a huge part in defending your happiness you hadn’t realized that he actually made up the majority of it.

For so long, you had believed you wouldn’t amount to much. That your life was marked by more failures than it was by successes. But you had been wrong. The only failures had been when you allowed your fear to control your life. And while you had learned some hard lessons, the happiness that grew from them far outweighed the pain. It took a while, but Asahi had shown you that your happiness was worth more than anything else.

And you loved him for it.

Asahi slumped into his seat and let out an exasperated sigh once you both had settled yourselves on the train home. “Damn, [y/n],” he began, a hand clutching his chest. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days you know that?”

A playful smirk formed on your lips as you remembered back to the way he nervously rambled on about how you were going to get sick when you trudged back to the beach. The only thing of yours that had remained dry were your shoes, which he carefully guarded until you returned. He had also kindly rushed to the nearest gift shop to find some suitable bottoms for you to wear, too embarrassed to have his giant hoodie that you practically swam in be the only thing you clothed yourself with.

You lightly pushed against his side with your shoulder and allowed yourself to linger there. “You love it.”

He coughed erratically, a desperate ‘I do’ choking him. The spontaneity you had brought into his life was, in fact, something he loved, though he wasn’t sure how much more of it his poor heart could take. But he would try, for you.

Asahi cleared his throat, “You’re super lucky you left your phone at home, you know?" He had attempted to change the subject, hoping the rapid beating of his heart would subside soon. He doubted it.

“Yeah.” You looked up at him through your lashes before looking back to the window, opaque with the night sky, causing your small, relaxed frame and his large, stiff one to be reflected back at you. You were unsure if the heat that radiated off of him or the recent revelation of your romantic feelings for your friend was causing you to feel flushed. Either way, it dangerously inviting. And it felt like home. “I know.”

So never look behind you, spooky people bring you down The world is ending there's a party by the bay I'll wear my suit and tie, we’re eye to eye and toasting To the way you put that smile upon my face

A/N: I NEVER would have thought I would be inspired to write for Asahi while listening to Blue October. But here we are. And I have a few more ideas swirling around too! So thank you so much for reading and stay tuned.

#asahi x reader #azumane asahi x reader #azumane asahi #asahi #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #fanfiction #The Sound Of Pulling Heaven Down #All That We Are #my writing

[hopelessly-me]

@winterhawkliveshere posted a photo of a man in a red running shorts... and I thought it was a swimsuit (oops!) so let’s play make-believe here.

Bucky ditched his backpack the moment he walked onto his floor and looked around. Everything was cleaned up and tidy, which wasn’t how he left it, and that’s how he knew Clint had been bored for the last week. Bucky smiled and shook his head before he walked to the bedroom and opened the door carefully. Empty.

Bucky had been out of the state for a week with Steve, on a “vacation” which would have been nice, but all that meant he was in charge of making sure Steve stayed out of trouble. He figured after all these years Steve would have figured out when to fight and when to turn his head- apparently turning his head was never an option. Thankfully, most of Steve’s fights these days meant arguing with people whose opinions didn’t match his own or people who would swing but at least now Steve could fight back properly. Bucky mostly just got to watch and mouth “sorry” a lot.

Coming home meant Bucky wanted nothing to do with anyone except for Clint. A week without terrible one-liners and jokes that always made Bucky crack a smile. A week without a warm body tucked against his own, calloused fingers kissing his skin as they both kept murmuring “five more minutes”. Bucky loved and hated how much he missed Clint whenever they were apart for longer than a few days.

“Hey FRIDAY, where’s Barton?” Bucky asked.

“Agent Barton is up on the roof,” the AI system informed him. “I do suggest if you go that you wear swim attire, sir.”

“Thank you.” Bucky checked the time- it was shortly after two in the afternoon. With a smile, Bucky changed into his swimming trunks and pulled on a rash guard shirt, making sure his left arm was covered before he sprayed himself with sunscreen and headed out.

Bucky was expecting to walk out to Clint laying out in a lawn chair, catching some sun. He expected to see miles of tanned skin with probably his Black Widow trunks on, or maybe his Captain America if he was feeling neglected, with those big purple sunglasses on. He would probably have the radio on, blaring some sort of music while he was either zoning out or asleep.

What Bucky didn’t expect to find was Clint lounging in a blow up pool that was likely four feet deep, floating on a purple raft with red swimming trunks on. Bucky was trying to decide how he had blown the thing up, let alone fill it with water. He wasn’t expecting Clint to be holding a margarita glass, a smirk on his lips as he looked at Bucky.

“Hey babe,” Clint called.

“... what the hell?” Bucky asked before he walked over. “How the hell did you do this?”

“With sheer patience and a will to swim on a roof,” Clint answered before he pushed his sunglasses up. “That and I wanted to piss Tony off. He hasn’t found out about this yet.”

Bucky couldn’t contain his laugh. “That bored?”

“You have no idea,” Clint grumbled. “There is another raft. Blow that baby up and come join me.” Bucky snorted and folded his arms on the side of the pool and set his head down on it. “Okay, you cannot tell me that you don’t want to. It’s a million degrees out. And you like screwing with Supermom and Superdad as much as I do. And you can’t tell me that Steve wasn’t a handful this week.” Clint pulled his glasses back down. “Join the dark side, Bucky. We get angry faces while getting to sip margaritas.”

“Okay but where can I get one of those?” Bucky asked and Clint grinned.

Sure, Bucky knew that at some point they were going to get caught. If they weren’t careful, it was going to be sooner rather than later, and Bucky wanted to soak this in as long as he could. So he left long enough to grab himself a drink, balancing two more on the side of the pool, and he climbed on top of a raft and laid in the sun with Clint.

They only went inside to change quickly, took a shower so they didn’t smell like chlorine, and behaved in front of their friends at dinner. Bucky’s mind was on the pool, laying on a raft, floating next to Clint, their fingers tangled together. He could still hear Clint’s laugh over his own coughing and sputtering after Clint swore that they could both lay on the raft. Bucky could still feel Clint’s hands tangled in his hair, his body pressed against Bucky’s while Bucky’s back dug into the edge of the pool which he wasn’t going to complain about. He caught Clint’s eyes, and his boyfriend smiled and gave him a nod before he threw himself back into the conversation.

As soon as dinner broke up they escaped to Bucky’s floor and quickly changed back into their swimsuits. Clint pulled Bucky back into the elevator before he tried to rotate them so he could get Bucky against the wall. Bucky pushed Clint back and kissed him until the doors finally opened back on the roof.

The sun was setting by the time they both settled back into some tubes. Bucky had taken the chance to grab some floats from the relaxation pool, Clint cheering when Bucky came back. Bucky was currently sitting in the center of a rubber duckie, while Clint had stolen the unicorn the moment Bucky had thrown it in. They watched the sunset together, their hands linked together, their feet occasionally knocking into the other’s. Bucky was sure at this point they were both washed with a sense of peace as he rubbed Clint’s hand with his thumb.

“You know… we should get one of these,” Bucky commented.

“Uh- what?” Clint asked. He looked over at Bucky, the sunset casting an orange glow to his face.

“A pool. When we decide that we’ve fought the good fight and we decide to settle down, we should get one of these,” Bucky explained. “Above ground, in ground, I don’t really care. But we could do this whenever we wanted to.”

“You thinking about the future there, babe?” Clint asked. “Thinking about us?”

“I’m always thinking about us,” Bucky answered. “And I know you do too.”

Clint smiled and looked back at the sunset. “Yeah, I guess I do,” he answered. “You know how I said you should wait for the perfect time?” Bucky looked over at Clint. “I think this might be the-”

The door opened up and Tony strolled out. “Oh no, he caught us,” Bucky commented.

“Hi guys,” Tony said, short and sweet.

“Oh no, he is using that tone that means we are in trouble,” Clint said with a gasp, his hand squeezing Bucky’s three times. “Should we try to run?”

“Maybe.”

“So funny,” Tony commented. “Two items up for discussion.” Steve strolled out next.

“Awww man, not dad too,” Clint whined. “Bucky, drown me. Drown me.”

“Dad too?” Steve asked.

“... are you referring to me as- no, stay on track,’ Tony said sternly. “Number one!”

“Oh God, he is listing them,” Bucky commented, feeling his grin spreading as Clint snickered.

“There is a rule about pools on the roof,” Tony said, ignoring Bucky’s comment. “Mostly because if there is a storm and this baby goes flying, guess who is getting sued?”

“I superglued it to the roof, it’s cool,” Clint said. Even Bucky looked over at Clint as Tony started stammering over his own words. “Just kidding. Got’cha!” Bucky snorted and let go of Clint’s hand, holding it up for his boyfriend to give him a well earned high five. Tony’s face was almost the color of a stewed tomato.

“Second,” Steve said calmly. “If you two want to, uh- participate in adult activities-”

“Just say sex, Steve,” Tony said.

Bucky stared at them before he realized what they were referring to and his face heated up instantly. Clint, however, looked perfectly fine. He looked between the three of them before he shrugged. “In all fairness, everyone here has seen me naked. And everyone should see Bucky naked because I mean… damn.” That certainly didn’t help Bucky at all.

“Didn’t want to see that,” Steve pointed out.

“The pool comes down before you both come inside for the night,” Tony said, pointing at the pair. “No more pools on the roof.”

“No more sex on the roof,” Steve added.

Clint flinched. “Oh man, out of everyone in the universe, the only person I don’t want to hear that word out of was Steve and he said it. Now it just feels gross and wrong.”

“Very funny, Clint,” Steve called as he walked back to the elevator. “Keep it up and maybe we’ll talk about it.”

“That’s cruel and unusual punishment,” Clint called back. Tony waved to them before the elevator door closed. “So… we got caught.” He looked over at Bucky and smiled one of his bright, sunshine worthy smiles. “What do you say we stay out here all night, turn into prunes, and see Tony’s reaction in the morning?”

“One of us is going to drown,” Bucky pointed out.

“Nah, we’ll take shifts. View this like an official Avengers mission now,” Clint said with determination. “I want to see Tony piss himself and Steve’s scowl face when they ask why the pool is still up, and then have to watch the video of us staying here all night.”

Bucky pulled on Clint’s hand to bring him closer and carefully leaned over. Clint did the same so they could kiss very quickly, trying not to tumble off their rafts. Bucky sighed and looked up. “One of these days I am going to convince you to marry me and then we are moving out of the city, live some quiet life that’s going to drive us both crazy, and I am never going to stop loving you.”

“Honestly?” Clint asked, squeezing Bucky’s hand and licking his lips before he relaxed into his thoughts enough to say them out loud. “Not sure it’s going to take that much convincing.”

#winterhawk

[willow-salix]

Here we go chaps, next chapter is finally up. Big thanks to the gorgeous and amazing @hedwigstalons for reading through this pile of garbage and helping me craft it into something that's safe to let out into the world.

Here's a snippet, you can read the rest on Ao3 here.

“International Rescue, this is Thunderbird Five, we have a situation.”

Three heads snapped up as John’s hologram appeared in the middle of the lounge.

“What’s the situation, John?” Jeff asked from his spot at his desk. They had been back two days and this was their first emergency call. To say that everyone was on edge was an understatement.

“Unseasonably heavy rainfall over the last few days has caused a flash flood heading towards a village in the Highlands of Scotland that has a large number of retirement properties and elderly residents as well as families. A river has burst its banks and it’s already reached the lower houses of the town, some of which are already half under water and its rising fast. The local authority has sent in some help to try and evacuate the residents but some are being a little...difficult.”

“How deep is the flooding?” Gordon asked, drawn to the lounge from parts unknown by the mere mention of water.

“Not deep enough for Thunderbird Four to be needed,” John replied, pulling up a new visual display to show a map of the area. “The local authorities are already using motorised inflatable rafts to ferry the residents to a safe distance where they have shuttles on hand to take them into the city. But, as I said, there are a number that are refusing to leave and some that are further up the hillside that cannot be reached by land or by boat, that’s where we come in.”

“Better take Pod two and tell Brains to include those new inflatable life packs,” Virgil decided, already heading for his launch chute. “Gordon, Alan, come with me.”

Scott jogged in, hair wet from his recent shower, shirt clinging to his still damp shoulders. “What do we have?”

“Heavy rain and a flash flood in Scotland, you had better get going,” Jeff told him. Scott paused as if waiting for the inevitable. “John will brief you when you’re in the air,” Jeff finished and Selene knew she couldn’t be the only one who saw Scott visibly relax as he moved towards the spot on the wall which concealed his launch chute.

Gordon and Alan headed to the passenger chute with a cheery wave and suddenly it was just her and Jeff left in the room. Damn, this was awkward. She hadn’t been alone with him since they had returned and didn’t really know how to act around him. It was sobering to realise you didn’t know someone as well as you thought you did. The views of others will always colour your judgement no matter how hard you try to avoid it. John’s opinion of their father had been shocking to say the least. She might joke that John was one of the most judgemental people she had ever met, but in reality he was nothing of the sort. He was the type of person to look at a situation from all sides and always keep an open mind. He didn’t judge without reason, he used logic and all the information available to him before he made his mind up about anything. She knew that he had years of experience with Jeff and that had led her to believe him.

They sat in awkward silence, watching the feed from Five as it continued to show the progress of the water rushing the village and the attempts of the rescuers to help as many people as they could.

There was that low down base rumble as Thunderbird One’s engines started up. Every building on the Island including the hangars had been fitted with the very best soundproofing, so they didn’t hear much more until the rocket shot out of the recently revealed opening in the swimming pool and took to the skies. The second its jets kicked in they heard the muffled boom as it broke the sound barrier and was gone in the blink of an eye. Less than four minutes later they heard the same, but with a distinctly lower pitch, as Thunderbird Two launched from the other side of the Island, banking to the left to follow after Scott.

John popped back to give them an update, relaying the same information he’d given Scott and to let them know what Scott had planned. Selene noticed the way Jeff tensed, his fingers tightening on the handle of his coffee cup.. Obviously it was the kind of plan that he would have suggested but he restrained himself from saying a word.

Scott called in twenty-three minutes after leaving to tell them that he had arrived and was assessing the situation. The local authority had done all they could, managing to evacuate two hundred and thirty-six out of two hundred and forty-two houses before they had been beaten by the water and the steady incline of the hillside. It was calculated that there were eight people still in need of rescue, three couples and two widowers. More able bodied people that lived higher up the hillside had either walked down themselves to meet the boats or were high enough up and well stocked enough to wait it out.

Scott took One further up the hillside, hoping to locate and hopefully rescue them without needing to wait for Virgil in Thunderbird Two, who was less than five minutes behind him.

Jeff still hadn’t said a word, but his breathing had become a little heavier and was inching towards huffs of either exasperation or frustration, it was hard to tell which. He had the map feed from One projecting from the command center on his desk and was studying it from all angles. Honestly, he was starting to piss her off.

For lack of anything better to do and feeling the need to move, Selene got up, intending to go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. She paused at the door, her inner British politeness taking over, leaving her unable to go without being nice.

“Would you like another cup of coffee?” he might be annoying, but he was still her father-in-law and she wasn’t that much of a bitch.

Jeff’s head jerked up as if noticing her for the first time.

“Oh,” he paused as if shocked by her offer. “Yes, that would be nice, thank you.”

Against her better judgement, she felt her heart softening a little. “Have you eaten yet today?”

He shook his head. “I haven’t really felt hungry the past week or so. I’ll get something later.” As if summoned by the thought of food and determined to rat him out, his stomach let out a loud growl.

She crossed her arms, giving him the same look she gave John when he ignored his body’s demands for food.

“You’ll have something now and you’ll eat it,” she ordered, her tone telling him it was useless to argue. “I’ll make you something while I do the coffee.”

"You don't ha- and she's gone."

As she was waiting for the milk to heat and froth in Virgil’s fancy machine that only she and John were allowed to touch, she grabbed a pan and scrambled some eggs, toasted some bread and loaded up a decent size portion onto a plate. She made the coffees, a latte for her and straight black (but sneakily decaf) for Jeff, arranging everything on a tray to carry back to the lounge.

Jeff moved aside his tablet to make room but she ignored the deliberate invitation and instead placed the tray on the coffee table, raising an eyebrow indicating that she wasn’t bringing it closer. He took the hint and left his desk to sit beside her on the couch. She handed him the tray, taking her mug and leaving him with the rest.

"You didn't have to make me anything, but thank you."

"No worries, I was going down there anyway, plus you needed to eat."

"Well, I appreciate it." He reached for the knife and fork and cut a small piece, hesitating before lifting it slowly to his mouth.

"It's not poisoned you know," she joked, feeling the need to break the tension.

It had the desired effect and she heard Jeff chuckle as he put the food in his mouth.

"I wouldn't have blamed you if it had been," he commented after he had swallowed.

Selene, in typical Selene style, had promptly forgotten the conversation the second it was over, had no clue what he was talking about, engrossed in watching the feed from the rescue. Virgil had left Alan in Two to keep it aloft and had taken Gordon out with him in the spider pod, its flexible but sturdy legs making short work of the hillside it was running up.

"Huh? Blame me for what?"

"Poisoning the eggs."

Selene snorted. "Nah, that's too much effort, they'd always suspect the witch of slipping you a potion, there's other ways."

Jeff echoed her amused snort and took another bite, this time bigger.

"Besides, we kinda need you," Selene continued. Jeff looked tired, almost as run down as when he had first been rescued. He looked heart sore and just by sitting near him she could feel the waves of anxiety and frustration flowing from him, but, in amongst all that, was a healthy dose of love and worry for his sons. She could understand that. How many times had she sat here, watching and waiting for them to come home? She knew exactly what that was like, to feel useless, unable to do anything to help.

"I don't think any of you have a need for me any more," Jeff snorted.

She rolled her eyes. Yes, she could understand his feelings, but that didn't mean she was going to allow him to wallow in his pity pool for much longer. Just as she had given herself a kick up the arse and carved her own place and purpose within the organisation, so would he have to.

"Can I be honest?"

"Of course."

"Good, not that it would have stopped me, I'm not known for being subtle or for sparing people's feelings."

"I'm aware of this fact, that's why I said yes."

"Ouch, the old dog still bites."

He narrowed his eyes at her but that didn't deter her one bit.

"You were there when I needed you to kick me up the arse, and since Lee isn't here I guess it's my job, so I'm returning the favour."

"Something tells me I'm not going to like this," he put down his fork in order to give her his full attention but picked it back up again when she bestowed upon him a level three Tempest glare, patent pending.

"The first thing I have to say is that we love you, because I think you need to remember that."

“Okay,” he mumbled around another mouthful, not liking the way this conversation was going.

“And in remembering that you will know that what I’m about to say comes from a place of deep love.”

“Okay," he repeated.

“Buck the fuck up.”

#jeff tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #gordon tracy #alan tracy #thunderbirdsarego #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction

[algae-soup]

Chapter 1

He paused the meditation playlist and turned his eyes to the night. A moment later he heard again through the darkness, Wap pop pop pop pop pop. Wap pop pop pop pop pop. The woods were full of snaps and rustles but this mysterious voice cracked loudly through the near silence. It hooted once more after no reply until a far off rival, who now called back from the distance, hooted wap pop pop pop pop pop!

 Gumbo sat up and leaned back into the live oak. “Gotta get to the marina tomorrow if I wanna catch the ferry” he said, hitting play on LoFi birdsong to relax/study to.

“Oh yeah” said the owl, close by but still invisible. “Time to pull the trigger huh?”

“Yeah, gotta see my guy first though. Stock up again” he said, sliding his hand over his pouch even though he just checked the stash ten minutes ago.

“Aw well. Come visit whenever, you can crash in my tree”

“Hell yeah thanks. It’s perfect here, I just want to go home for a bit you know”

“You should consider migrating. I know it’s not your thing but some seasonality might be nice. Not my thing neither but sometimes you need a lil structure. Wap pop pop pop pop pop pop. Should I go beat this stupid freak?”

“I won’t be there forever. Another day or two in the city and I’ll take off. But yeah I’ll be back down someday” Forest covered mountains burst out of the sea in his mind. Pink and orange cliffs glowing in the morning sunlight as the icy prisms clinging to his fur glisten and melt. “Get his ass. I’ll hit you up later”

Wap pop pop pop pop pop pop! The branch creaked and the bird was gone. Gumbo turned off the music and fell asleep looking up at the moon through the sweeping branches.

The nice thing about trees is they’re perfect. Perfection is everywhere in the rhythm and disorder of the coast and the delta. Thousands of islands scoured away by the tide and pulled upward again out of the sea for hundreds of years, the region was locked in continuous transition. It was a place of endless adventure and mystery, and it was cool ending up here for a while. It’ll be nice heading home too. Morning came and Gumbo sat up. You could just see the shore through the brush and where the cotton candy sky met the ocean in between the innumerable islands. After watching the sun rise through the trees, he ate some berries and moss for breakfast before gathering some more and stowing them in his pouch. It was humid and sticky already and he set off toward the beach, brushing the detritus out of his ass fur. 

As he turned away from the open ocean more islands appeared. He walked along the beach towards the end, and continued walking into the water until he was nearly submerged. At seven feet tall, he was able to slowly walk his way across several channels paddling with his hands to propel himself. Larger channels were too deep so he swam, long strokes and sometimes on his back. After a while he got the the island where he last stowed the raft. He pulled it from the brush into the water and continued up the creek. The tide rolled him along as he paddled, doing most of the work and often moving him in the correct direction. Schools of fish passed by and flocks of shorebirds bobbed in the wake in the shady coves waiting to poke around for grubs when the tide went out. He smiled and waved at everyone, stopping to wrestle with an alligator pal and he had kelp salad for lunch with an ancient snapping turtle, after giving her a nice shell rub with a handmade oil of his. He veered the raft between mangroves and watched the fish do the same, but more nimbly. It was a perfect morning in the bayou.

He made it to the marina in the afternoon. “Hey Bucky. What do ya know?”

“Leaving in five minutes, I’ll get you a seat. Bark! Bark!” Bucky ran toward the docks. 

Gumbo crossed his eyes and mumbled to himself, heartworms, flea bites, fur matted down; give me the mangy tail of a hound. Gumbo crouched down and leaned forward onto his hands. He exhaled deeply and slowly, channeling his focus inward. He felt his haunches shrinking down and his muscles condense into tightly wound springs. His next inhale was through a snout. The cattle dog sat on his hind legs where a bigfoot had just stood and sniffed the sweet salty air. He trotted around on four legs to adjust to his smaller stature and began panting in the heat. Gumbo pissed on a tree and ran off after Bucky.

  Gumbo the dog stepped off the ferry into New Orleans. The sun was setting and the evening air hung heavy with moisture and was full of colorful noises from inside the marina and around the docks. There was movement everywhere; fishermen mending nets and preparing for the morning, dockhands swinging around crates, smoking and talking and laughter in every direction. The ocean breeze mingled with the smells of hot fish and exhaust. Gumbo stretched and walked along the river edge and turned down an alley. A midden of clamshells stood at the back door of one shack where plumes of smoke billowed out of the open door. Music was blasting over the clattering and yelling from inside the kitchen as Gumbo approached, and he barked into the thick hot cloud of fumes.

“Whos that! Whatchoo want?” A wrinkly bearded face appeared through the grease fog. “Oh mon amie, como ca va?? Lemme fix you something!” He disappeared into the smoke and rematerialized with a steaming bowl and stepped out into the alley.

He set the bowl at Gumbo’s feet, “Beans n rice, no flavor, just for you” he winked at Gumbo.

“Thanks Francois” Gumbo said before chowing down, “busy night?”

Francois dabbed his forehead with the inside of his apron, “not too bad for a Saturday. Not like you’d know about Saturdays you bum” he laughed.

“Dat’s right baby, every day is Saturday” Gumbo said with jowls full of beans. “jambalaya slaps, thanks”

“Merci beaucoup! It’s even better with the fixings,” Francois said “scallops, shrimp, boudain… you’re missing out. Get me anything special down der?”

Gumbo licked his chops clean and stuck his snout into his pouch, pulling out a mouthful of pearls. Ivory, sapphire, bronze, and one glossy black. Francois crouched down and Gumbo dropped them gently into his open palm.

“Oh mon amie, these are beautiful. Bon chien!” He stood up and flicked his wrist and the pearls were gone. “I’ll save these for something special. You wanna come grab a drink? Powdered pearl milkshake, for vitality! Got a big night ahead of you?”

“No thanks, I’m on my way to see Bordo and then I’m heading up north in a couple days” Gumbo said.

“Way up north to Baton Rouge yeah?”

“Bit farther” Gumbo said, “shooting to get to Acadia by the end of the summer”

“Mmmmm” Francois’ pursed lips turned to a warm smile, “long long ways, bet you’re walking too huh. Well if I don’t see you before you go, I better give you this now” he reached into his pocket and retrieved an antique oyster knife. Steel blade with a walnut handle inlaid with an intricate geometric design, and covered in a thick coat of slime. “Shucked a lot of oysters with this Gumbo, it’ll treat you well. Just point and shoot” he said with another wink.

“Wow this fuckin rocks, thanks man” Gumbo took the knife in his mouth and stashed it into his pouch.

“Keep in touch chouchou! I gotta get back to it. Lotta fish to fry”

“For sure. Bon soir” 

Francois returned to the kitchen and Gumbo continued up the alley. It was two miles walking up the greenway and a few city blocks to Temple Cemetery. The city lights dimmed as he entered under the tree canopy, and his eyes glowed yellow, adjusting to the dark. He trotted off down the earthen path.

#dnd #bigfoot #adventure #gumbo #louisiana #acadia

[imagine-darksiders]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart - Chapter 10.

- Falling Tears. 

Words: 10,833

Summary: The Drenchfort is not a place to be taken lightly. Beautiful as you find it, its dark corners hold many, terrible dangers and you soon learn that some monsters lurk closer than you think....

----

“Woah....”

“Do you know something, human? I'm beginning to think you may well be the most easily impressed creature this universe has ever spat out.” In spite of the brusqueness of his tone, Death's lips curve into the ghost of a smile as he watches you zigzag the path ahead of him, every now and again touching your fingertips reverently to the Drenchfort's damp, stone walls.

The horseman, a frequenter of bizarre and spectacular worlds, finds scarce little to be dazzled by in the ancient temple. Its high ceilings and immense chambers hardly seemed to differ from one another. There's a lingering smell of damp that invades his nostrils and absolutely everything is coloured a shade of uninspiring grey.

Life here had disappeared eons ago along with the water.

But here you are, gazing upon it all with the kind of wide-eyed wonder he would have expected you to give the White City.... or Eden. Not this bland, blocky temple stuck out in some far-off corner of a dying realm.

'Still-" He raises a brow as you crane your neck back to peer at the ceiling and end up tripping over a loose stone, 'At least she isn't complaining about wanting to go home.'

Out of nowhere, you decide to stop and poke at a dead fern hanging from the walls, dawdling long enough for the horseman to overtake you and continue on his way down the dank, misty corridor.

“I can't believe we've been living alongside an entire realm, and we had no idea!” you exclaim, tearing yourself away from the odd plant and bounding after Death once you realise he won't be stopping to let you sightsee.

“Well, it isn't as though you've been missing out on much,” he mumbles before raising his voice for you to hear, “Now, come along. The sooner we find the source of the tears, the sooner we can leave.”

Without hanging around to see if you've caught up, Death strides ahead to the end of the vast hallway and a pair of doors that sit squarely in your path. A thick layer of dust resting on the mottled wood indicates they haven't seen use for a good many years. Upon reaching them, he places a hand on their surface, only pausing once he notices your footsteps have ceased.

Sighing, Death glances over a shoulder and finds that you've once again stopped, this time to peer down into a small puddle at your feet.

'Water?' He flicks his gaze up to a hole in the ceiling through which he can make out the cloudy sky beyond. 'Nothing more than rainwater, then.'

“I sincerely hope you haven't already forgotten the first step?” he barks, causing you to jump and snap your head up.

“First step?” you echo, confused. Then, the previous day comes racing back and you recall the ground rules he laid out for you in front of the Cauldron. “Oh! Right, right, yeah. Stay close.” With that, you jog through the puddle - never minding the cool water that splashes up your legs as you go – and hurry back to the horseman's side. Once you reach him, he heaves out a sigh, rolls his eyes and gives the doors one, hard shove.

Awaiting you on the other side is a gargantuan, layered courtyard and what appears to be a statue, far taller and wider than any you've seen. It stands proudly in the centre and depicts some kind of stony giant with a water yoke perched heavily across its broad shoulders.

You're too late to catch the, “Woooah!” before it leaves your mouth.

“You should become an author,” Death says breezily, “Your first book; 'How to express wonder in two words or less.'”

He's only a little disappointed that his observation and suggestion go ignored.

Trundling down a comparatively small flight of stairs, you come upon a low wall and, peering out over it, let out yet another awed gasp.

“My god, it looks as if it could get up and start walking about at any second!” you remark, pushing yourself onto your tiptoes and leaning out even further to gaze down past the statue towards the bottom of the chasm. Several yards below you, sunlight refracts off the shallow water pooled around its feet where the ground is uneven.

“D'you think there are any fish down there?” you wonder aloud, pulling back and traipsing after Death along a pathway that hugs the outer, western wall and curves around to another set of wooden doors.

“If there are,” he replies, “Then I imagine they'd be the kind you want to avoid.”

“Wait. The fish here are dangerous too?”

“We haven't met any yet, but I imagine they would be,” he grunts, “Almost everything in this realm is potentially deadly. Part of why its people are so hardy, I suppose.”

Effortlessly, he throws open the doors and you both carry on into a long passageway that doesn't differ very much from the last. This one, however, houses a large, semi circular pipe that's set into the ground and runs all the way along the left side of the room before it disappears through a wall, sectioned off by a big, stone grate. A few inches of water sit in the bottom of the pipe and it suddenly occurs to you that this must be how the tears used to travel through the temple.

“I dunno why I'm surprised the fish here can be dangerous,” you chuckle out of the blue, filling the empty hallway with sound, “Like the fish on Earth are any less nasty. Ha! When me and my dad were in Mozambique, we.....Say-” You turn your head to scrutinise Death. “- You ever heard of a tiger fish?”

Heaving a weary sigh, he replies, “I've heard of a tiger, and I've heard of a fish.”

“Right, well, basically... Picture a fish about....Mmmm....This big -” Death very nearly gets smacked around the chest when your hands fly out to either side, leaving about three feet of air between your palms to indicate the space where an imaginary fish would go. “- And give it the teeth of a tiger.”

You stare at him for a while until he realises he's actually supposed to be playing along. Resisting the urge to grumble, Death nods curtly. “Alright?”

“Bam! That's a tiger fish!”

“Is there a point to this tale?” he mutters under his breath.

Carrying on as if you hadn't heard, you let your eyes glaze over with a memory, lost for a brief instance in the blissful past. “My dad took me fishing once in Mozambique. We were catching tiger fish and I was so afraid one would jump on the boat – well, it was less of a boat and more of a raft with an engine,” you laugh, “But dad? I remember him turning to look at me with this like, weird look on his face as he said, 'you know there are hippos and crocodiles in here too right?' Man, I screamed loud enough for everyone back at camp to hear me! Mum gave him such a bollocking.” Swiping a mirthful tear from your eye, your laughter eventually tapers off as you glance up at the horseman, who's gaze is trained on you, though it remains unreadable as ever. Sobered by his quiet observing, you cough awkwardly into a fist. “Uh, he was...he was just like that. Dad, I mean. I think he thought he was teaching me an important lesson.” Brows pinching, you swivel your head around to face forwards again. “No matter how much you're scared of a thing, there's usually something much, much worse out there for you to be afraid of.”

From the corner of his eye, Death watches your smile fade until it becomes a pensive frown.

“....Never thought I'd miss his stupid, pointless lessons so much.”

Moisture gathers behind your eyes and you hurriedly pivot away from the horseman, staring at the pipe and taking the opportunity to wipe your face, sniffling glumly, “Never thought I'd miss him so much.”

The horseman blinks, startled to find that his hand has unintentionally begun to rise and had been on a clear path to your shoulder before he caught himself and snatched it back. Scowling rebukingly down at the treacherous appendage, he closes it into a fist and keeps it firmly planted against his side. The mood well and truly soured, you press on in silence.

Before long, the two of you reach a point in the hallway where the path veers off sharply to the right.

Rounding the sharp bend, all thoughts of your father evaporate and you suddenly freeze in your tracks whilst the horseman takes a few more steps, although he too soon slows to a halt.

“Oh, wonderful,” he grumbles, “A stinger hive.”

Sure enough, up ahead and fused to the stone floor by a film of slimy webbing, is a bulbous, writhing pod that more closely resembles a venomous plant than any sort of 'hive.' Chittering and scratching can be heard coming from within the egg-shaped nest, and if you squint, you can even see dozens of silhouettes zooming about behind a thin, orange membrane.

Swallowing past a nervous lump, you suggest, “Maybe we can, like...sneak past?”

As if in direct defiance of your wishful thinking, an explosion of activity causes the pod to jerk violently.

“.....Maybe!” Death agrees, tone mocking.

Before you can move to stand behind him, a pair of flaps at the very top of the hive spring open.

Heart in your throat, you and the horseman stand rigid, staring suspiciously at the opening. Seconds later, you jump as a cloud of gigantic, flying insects comes bursting out and in no time at all, the hallway is promptly drowned under the volume of a hundred, buzzing wings.

You're too late to bite down on the ungodly shriek that leaps out of you and sets Death's teeth on edge.

He has all of a second to spare you an exasperated glower before the first insect whizzes in your direction. A hideous trill announces its approach and it darts expertly over the horseman, making a beeline straight for you.

Your sword and Death's pistol all but forgotten, you throw up your arms to act as meagre protection and cry out, “No!” when, all of a sudden, a pale hand shoots out and snatches the insect from the air a split second before it can thrust its barbed sting into your flesh.

Eyes peeking open, you watch, transfixed as Death clenches down hard, crushing the wriggling insect as though it were little more than a paper cup. “I didn't give you that gun because I was being nice!” he shouts, turning to face the swarm, squinting through it at the nest beyond.

“Oh, right!” Throwing your hands down, you frantically tug the gun out of its holster, grunting when it catches for a moment and then slides free. With the sound of angry buzzing filling your ears, you shakily raise your arms and try to aim, which soon proves a near impossibility. “I...I can't get a lock!” you cry, “They're moving too fast!”

There's no response, so you glance over at Death, only to find him gone. Squeaking out his name, you suddenly catch a flash of grey sprinting through the swarm. “Hey! Where are you going! Don't leave me!” It's useless to try and hide the panic in your voice.

Soon enough, your entire field of view is obscured and you can no longer see any trace of the horseman through their midst. The insects screech as one and converge on you, their fangs dripping a clear, no doubt venomous liquid.

Just then, you hear Death shout above the din, “What are you waiting for?! Shoot!”

“Where are you?!” you scream back, but again, you don't catch a reply. That, or there isn't one.

Blood thumping relentlessly in your ears, you take his advice and point the gun at the closest of the insects, squeezing the trigger. The shot rings out, you're nearly sent flying off your feet and a bug behind the one you'd been aiming for promptly explodes in a shower of green blood.

“Oh.”

In this case, it would appear their sheer numbers hold them to a disadvantage. So many insects choke the corridor, you only need to point and shoot in their vague direction and there's a high probability that the bullet will strike at least one.

Again, you fire into the swarm and – even though you're aiming at random – you manage to hit another stinger and send it spinning to the ground, dead. After that, your confidence begins to grow and soon, you've cut the cloud of insects down by a half, eternally grateful that Death's pistol doesn't need to be reloaded. It almost makes your hectic misses seem less costly.

Unfortunately for you, the more bugs you do manage to kill, the harder it becomes to hit those that remain and it isn't long before your arms start to shake, buckling under the strain of the gun's recoil.

All in all, it's abundantly clear to see that you're in trouble and unfortunately for you, the giant, flying insects seem to have noticed this as well.

You've stopped bothering to look for Death in between shots, choosing instead to focus on more pressing things such as not dying.

Only four stingers are left buzzing in the air after you effectively panicked and unloaded a maelstrom of bullets into the swarm, all the while back-peddling like the fires of Hell were licking at your toes.

Putting on a brave face – which is admittedly less brave and perhaps more of an unthreatening pout – you square your shoulders and shoot at the closest bug only to have it zoom out of the path of your bullet and continue to advance with its brethren, slowing considerably as if they're fully aware that you're no match for their speed and not yet experienced enough with your weapon of choice.

Staggering back, you ditch the pistol, all but throwing it back into the holster before yanking the sword out instead and aiming a wild swipe at one bug that dives towards you. Through sheer luck, the tip of your blade cuts across its poised abdomen and it shrieks, recoiling a second too late. The damage is done.

Blood spills from the wound until its wings stop humming frantically to keep it aloft and it falls in a downward spiral until it hits the ground and lays there with the rest of its fallen ilk.

“And then, there were three,” you murmur, slowly retreating whilst keeping a sharp eye trained on the last of the insects as they hover closer, one to your front and two attempting to flank you on either side.

Breathing coming out shallow and erratic, you keep your sword on the move, pointing it continuously between all three.

Of course though, as is just the way your life tends to pan out, the inevitable happens.

The heel of your boot suddenly strikes a loose slab of stone that pokes just a few inches higher out of the ground than those surrounding it. Belting out a short scream, you lose your balance and topple backwards, landing on your rear hard enough to send a sharp pain racing up through your coccyx.

“Gah! Sunnuvabitch, this is getting really OLD!” you holler at your clumsy feet.

For the insects, your mistake is an opportunity too perfect to forgo. Three, ear-splitting screeches snatch your gaze up from your fallen sword and you gasp, heart seizing as they fly at you, their poisoned barbs already oozing viscous liquid that's sure to kill you in three seconds flat. Although your hand reaches out to grab at Karn's sword laying to one side, you can tell you'll never be able to protect yourself in time.

Suddenly, cutting it just a little too close, a scythe comes whizzing into view above your head, slicing through the remaining stingers in a neat arc before curving back around to return the way it had come.

Panting hard, you reach up to wipe the sweat out of your eyes and gaze dumbfounded past the now dead stingers and down the corridor, your heart flip flopping upon seeing Death – scythe in hand – prowling up to you, his bandage-wrapped forearms tinged a dark shade of green.

“Death!?” you squeak, attempting to stand. Your hand slips on a patch of insect blood however, and you crash back onto your rump once again. Although there's a dizzying torrent of relief that he had not, in fact, left you for good, the shadow of a frown drapes across your features. “Where....Where were you!?

The thumb he tosses over a shoulder is casual, entirely too casual for your liking. It's as though he simply hasn't a care for how frightened he'd made you when he disappeared. Still, you crane your neck over his shoulder to see what he's indicating.

Behind him, you see the nest. Or rather, what remains of the nest. Its membrane hangs in tattered strips around the stump and the whole thing has sagged to the ground, wilted and no longer capable of spewing forth any more of those bloodthirsty insects.

His cold hand grabs the collar of your jumper and you glance up to see Death regarding you blankly, his eyes conveying no clue as to his inner thoughts. Just when you think he's about to tell you what a horrible job you did, the horseman pulls you off the ground and sets you carefully back on your feet. “Not bad,” he murmurs, appraising the dozens of dead stingers.

For a time, you simply stare up at him, gulping down breath after breath until your heart rate falls to something far less alarming. Then, to his surprise, your eyebrows scrunch together into a dark scowl and before he can say a word, you wrench your jumper out of his hand and take a step back, puffing out your chest. “Don't ever-” you seethe, raising a trembling finger and pointing it at his mask, “ - ever do that to me again! I thought you'd left me!”

At your outburst, the horseman huffs, affronted. “I was destroying the nest.”

“You could have told me that, you idiot!” After a second, your angry expression falls and you look down, voice losing most of its heat. “I was so scared.”

The horseman peers at you through narrow eyes, hard and unblinking until eventually, he tears his head away and stalks past, picking his way over the bodies of fallen insects. As you watch his retreating back, he grumbles something that sends a stab of shame racing through your gut.

“Yes, well...What else is new?”  

Inhaling softly, your eyebrows tilt upwards but you press your mouth into a tight line, determined to keep your lower lip from quivering.

For the second time in as many days, there's a twinge of discomfort that chases Death's words and a microsecond where he wishes he hadn't spoken them at all. He doesn't even need to look back to know that there are the beginnings of tears glistening in your eyes. Sighing quietly, he pushes forwards and supposes he can't begrudge you that.

Staring after him as he goes, you slowly feel your anger ebb away, rationality settling in its place.

You glance at the destroyed nest, then rove your eyes down to the three insects laying close to your feet.

“You didn't leave me though, did you?” you murmur softly, too soft for him to hear. While you might have been scared out of your wits, you weren't actually hurt. The horseman had come through for you once again, even if he did leave it to the last possible second. And if you ever do end up leaving this place, as Death planned, then he may well be the only friend you-...

Swallowing, you catch yourself before such a hopeful thought can take root.

Death doesn't seem the type to want, have or need friendship. Least of all that of a human's.

But while you're well aware that 'friend' probably isn't even a term in the horseman's vocabulary, you realise you'd rather at least have him as someone who tolerates you.

Squeezing your hands into tight fists, you draw in a deep breath, count to three and then blow it all out again, forcing yourself to deflate and expel the hurt. “Death, wait!” you call out, voice startlingly loud as it reverberates off the temple's walls. For a horrible moment, you think he won't stop, that he'll continue to stalk down the corridor and disappear through the doors at its end. So you're tentatively relieved that he pauses mid stride, deliberating a while until his shoulders slump and he twists his head to the side, just a fraction, but enough that you spot it.

Uninhibited by pride or spite, there's no hesitation when you blurt, “I'm sorry!” and proceed to stand there, fists still clenched at your sides and spine rigid with anticipation.

Each second that passes by in which there's no response renders your nerves more and more frayed. Still, you allow at least another minute to pass before your heart begins to sink, and as it does, your anxiety rises, which only presses you to keep talking. In times of stress, you've often resorted to idle prattling because listening to an awkward silence is something you despise. Best to fill it than let it fester.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you. You didn't do anything wrong and you were right, me being scared isn't anything new! But I let fear make me ratty and I accused you of leaving me and, and-....”

You're forced to hesitate and draw in a lungful of air but any lull in sound makes his silence all the more deafening.

“Death?” Your voice cracks. “I -...I really am sorry, I didn't-”

“I heard what you said,” he finally interrupts, effectively shutting you up and setting your pulse to race.

After an excruciating wait during which you're certain he's getting ready to just up and leave you here in the corridor of a dilapidated temple, the horseman turns.

You imagine that there must be an easy smile on his face because his haunting eyes are soft than they had been moments ago and there's a gentleness to his tone that doesn't fit with the rest of his demeanour. “I was...merely trying to recall the last time I received an apology. It has been some time.”

Death has to hold back a chuckle at the way you start forwards only to stop again after a few steps, uncertain as to whether or not he still wants you by his side. Smirking, the horseman jerks his head at the doors behind him, reassuring you with a light, “Come along then.”

Your feet move before your brain does.

“I thought you weren't ever going to talk to me again!” you smile, jogging over to the horseman and adding a little sheepishly, “Really though, sorry for calling you an idiot and all that...”

“Well, it wouldn't be the first time I've heard it,” he replies, tilting his head down to regard your hesitant smile.

'Always so unsure of yourself.'

The thought has him shaking his head and, swallowing a tidbit of his own pride, he sighs, “And.... I suppose your fear was...rational. I left you alone to face an enemy you don't even know.”

Walking beside him to the end of the corridor, you smirk. “Was that an apology, Death?”  

“It's the closest thing you're going to get so don't push your luck.”

Smirk still planted across his lips, the horseman places a hand on the door and pauses as you do the same.

You shoot him a shy grin, then, together, the two of you push against your respective door and they slide open as one, allowing daylight to flood the hallway behind you.

Stepping through, you raise a hand and shield your eyes, forced to squint after the relative dinginess of the long passageway behind you.

“Finally,” Death pipes up at your side, venturing forward into the new area.

Once your eyes adjust, you lower your arm and blink curiously at your surroundings.

From what you can tell, you're standing on a large overlook that sits above a room you'd previously passed through some time ago. Like more of the temple's chambers, this one's roof has almost completely crumbled away and shafts of sunlight filter in through the huge gaps left in the stone. To your left is a large, familiar pipe. It's set into the floor and spans the western wall, and would have carried on through to the next room had there not been a heavy blockade at the far end, slotted neatly into place and kept there by a pair of thick, black chains hanging from the ceiling.

Here and there are growths of slick corruption, clinging to the walls and the parts of the roof that haven't deteriorated.

But perhaps the object that most captures your attention waits at the very edge of the stone overlook, resting unassumingly on a raised dais.  

“A lever!” you exclaim, bounding after Death as relief washes away the last of the bitter taste of your argument with him. You were beginning to think you'd never make any progress.

The horseman, reaching out and grasping the handle, simply replies, “So it is,” and gives it a sharp pull.

In an instant, the sound of gears clanking and grinding fills the area, though they're soon followed by a far less promising 'thump' and then, everything falls silent once more.

“Of course,” Death growls, yanking the lever a few more times and getting the same result until he promptly snatches his hand away, frustrated. “It's never that easy.” He stands there, chin in hand and muddles over the mechanism in front of him, blissfully unaware that you've started wandering curiously around the room, on the hunt for that mysterious 'thump.'

It doesn't take long to discover the source.

Trailing up a small staircase that takes you right to the lip of the pipe, you peer down inside for a second and your mouth pulls into a grin. Staring back is your wobbly reflection, smiling at you from within a pool of glistening water. Its surface sparkles and shines with every speck of light that hits it, and you can see clear through to the bottom of the pipe. You've never seen water as pure as this before.

There isn't a doubt in your mind of what you've discovered.

“Death! I think I found the tears!”

“That's wonderful, Y/n,” he calls back with the same enthusiasm of a parent whose child had just handed them a mud pie.

Slowly, your gaze travels up the blockade to the chains holding it in place. Sure enough, growing over and around those chains is a large, tangled cluster of Corruption, its putrid yellow crystals sticking out over the barricade.

“Hmm.” After levelling a pensive frown at the contraption, you raise your voice and shout, “Hey, Death!?”

“What?” comes the weary reply.

“Can you pull that lever again?”

There's a pause, then a huff, followed shortly by the sound of metal scraping against stone once more.

A moment later, you watch as the water blockade judders and stirs, rising a few inches above the pipe's base before its ascent is abruptly halted by Corruption. The heavy stone slab struggles up another centimetre or so but ultimately, it drops back down with a resonant thump.

Raising a brow, you scan the surface of the corruption again, murmuring to yourself, “There's gotta be a way to clear this up. We can't have come all this way for – ah hah!”

Just then, your eyes land upon a familiar, round ball that's half hidden in between the Corruption's oily, black tendrils.

Having heard your exclamation, Death starts towards the steps, “Y/n? What was that?”

“Nothing!” you reply hurriedly, grabbing his pistol from your waistband. Luckily, your intended target is neither moving, nor very far away – a damn sight better than the stingers. “Just hang tight, I'm gonna try something!”

“Why don't I like the sound of that?” Death moans.

Seconds after his complaint, a gunshot shatters the peaceful silence and for one, bleak moment, the horseman's gut lurches, fearing the worst. Before he can stop himself, a bark of, “Y/n!?” slips off his tongue, though he's suddenly interrupted by an even louder, more jarring 'bang' that shakes the ground beneath his boots.

Racing away from the lever, he makes for the foot of the staircase you'd previously wandered up, only slowing to a halt when he sees you ambling back down them with a wide smile plastered across your face.

Without uttering a word, he simply stares, head twisting to follow you whilst you squeeze past him and traipse easily over to the lever.

“Y/n?” He pauses to clear his throat. “What did you-”

Swiftly, you hold up a finger to silence him and – incredibly – it works. Death's mouth falls shut and he tilts his head to the side, intrigued.

Still, wearing a proud grin, you take the lever in both hands and shove it to the left, throwing your whole shoulder into it at one point.

As soon as it slots into place, the grinding of gears travels through the floor, up the walls and as you dash back towards the stairs, you see the chains – now free of Corruption – are hoisting the blockade up into the air, and out of the way of the water in the pipe.

“Yes!” you laugh, grabbing Death's arm and giving it an excited jostle, “Come on!” Without waiting to see if he's following, you hop up the steps and drop to your hands and knees at the lip of the stone pipe, peering down as the water rushes through and onwards to some other room in the temple.

Meanwhile, Death remains where he is, curiosity slowly replacing bewilderment. Never before had he seen so much excitement exude from a creature for accomplishing the bare minimum. Then again, perhaps to call it the 'bare minimum' is a little discourteous. After all, he hadn't been the one to figure out why the lever didn't work. Although he absolutely would have managed to...In the end.

Beating back the uninvited smile that had crept onto his face after seeing your own, the Horseman sweeps lazily back towards the room's entrance, confident that he won't get far before you decide to join him. Sure enough, his ears soon pick up the clumsy pitter patter of booted feet as they fly down the stairs in a hurry, straight to his side.

“You're getting rather good at blowing up shadow bombs,” he remarks once you've fallen into step next to him, taking two strides for every one of his.

In response, you shrug and tilt your chin down to hide a bashful grin. “Had to be good at something, I suppose.” A moment later you perk up again and clap your hands together. “So! Back to Tri Stone then?”

“Tri Stone?” he echoes, stepping through the doors into the corridor once again, “You want to leave a job half finished?”

“But...I thought we just...” Glancing back at the room you'd left behind, you continue, “Didn't we release the tears?”

Death finds it odd yet endearing that you included him in that statement. Most would be quick to claim the glory.

“While those are the tears,” he says, “I highly doubt you did much more than move them on to another room in the DrenchFort.”

“How do you know?”

The horseman shrugs. “Call it a hunch. As I said, nothing is ever that easy.”

-----------

“Well, looks like you were right, Death.”

“That surprises you?”

“No, no it's just....I hoped you were wrong.”

Retracing your steps back through the temple, you eventually find yourselves back in the first courtyard, only this time, it's clear to see the changes your actions have incurred. For one thing, the stone giant is no longer burdened by a dry water yoke. Instead, massive torrents of water cascade down from massive pipes on either side of the statue and into a semi-circular pipe that winds around its front with a little offset carrying the water flow underneath a raised balcony, upon which sits the entrance to your next destination.

It's through this entrance that you and Death venture and immediately come to an abrupt halt at the edge of a small cliff. The ceiling of the new chamber looms high overhead, stretching all the way across to the other side whereupon there's another door that no doubt leads to your next destination. However, separating you from this door is a pool. Deep but crystal clear water lets you see right through to the bottom, where stalagmites rise like the clawed fingers of some great, underground giant.

“How on Earth are we supposed to cross this?” you whine, earning an incredulous glance from the horseman.

“Is is not obvious?” he drawls.

“You're not seriously suggesting we swim that?”

“You can't swim?”

“I can too swim, I just -” Eyeing the dark corners of the pool warily, you try not to imagine the horrible, swimming monstrosities that could be lurking down there. “Just wish I hadn't started talking about tiger fish a while back.”

Rolling his eyes, Death takes a step away from the ledge. “I don't think you'll find any variety of Earthen fish down there.”

“Nope,” you gulp, still peering down into the water, “But s'like dad taught me. There's always something worse to be afraid of...”

A sudden rush of air whizzes past you, disturbing your hair and you gasp as Death leaps gracefully off the ledge. You gape at the expert free fall, marvelling after his swan dive. Once the bubbles clear, you can see him below the surface, twisting himself around underwater as he scans for any signs of life, but finding none, he propels himself upwards and bursts through the surface, throwing back his long, black hair, some of which clings to his mask and glistens with little droplets of water. Upon resurfacing, his ears are promptly filled with the sound of clapping and he glances up to where you still stand on the ledge, smacking your palms together and cheering, “Ten out of ten! A perfect entry!”

There's a confused pause before his voice travels up to you, bouncing off the cavern walls. “What?” You open your mouth to respond but Death quickly shakes his head and adds, “Never mind. I don't care. Now, are you coming or not?”

Humming uncertainly, you edge a little closer to the side and squint down into the water, lips pressed together.

Below you, the horseman sees your nerves are getting the better of you. “Listen,” he calls up to you, sighing, “If you're going to spend all your time waiting for 'something worse' to come along, you'll never get anywhere!”

“Alright! Okay, I'm coming!” you shout, muttering to yourself afterwards, “Before I change my mind.”

Taking a deep breath and holding it in your cheeks, you move back, count to three, then run for the edge, leaping off it with a half nervous, half giddy, “CANNONBALL!” blasting off your tongue.

A few seconds of soothing free fall occur and you curl yourself up tight, hands looped around your knees, hair dancing in the wind as the water rushes up to meet you.

The horseman's face falls during your descent but he doesn't manage to move out of the way in time to avoid a wall of water splashing his mask when your body hits the surface and sends waves rippling outwards. Upon coming up to breathe, you wipe the moisture out of your eyes and paddle over to Death, who is floating nearby, water droplets trickling off his chin and a harsh glare leering out at you from behind dark eye sockets.

“Oops. Sorry, did I get you?”

The flat look you receive is enough of an answer.

“Ah well,” you continue, “You were wet anyway.”

He grumbles, somehow a far less intimidating noise now that his hair sticks to his scalp and you can even make out the tops of his ears poking through the ebony locks. Turning himself about, Death begins to swim for the other side. Reaching the rocky wall in no more than a few seconds, he places a hand on it and twists his head round to ask if you'll be needing help climbing up and then lets out a low moan when he sees you've barely managed to swim more than a few feet.

“Man,” you pant, spitting water from your mouth, “I forgot how hard it is....to swim in...clothes!”

Worried that your boots will come off if you kick to hard, you settle for a gentle breast stroke instead, taking your sweet time in crossing the pool. Unfortunately, by the looks of the horseman powering his way back over to you, time isn't something he's interested in taking.

“Come here,” he grunts and slips a large hand around your wrist.

Before you can react, you're suddenly yanked through the water, tugged along by the horseman and making it to the opposite side in record time. Once there, instead of releasing you, Death simply slings your arm around his neck and tells you to hold on.

Understanding, you throw the other arm around him, clinging to his cowl and scrabbling for purchase on his slippery skin. You squeak as the palm of his hand then comes up and nudges your backside, hiking you higher onto the horseman's back so that you're more securely in place. Once he's sure you won't fall off, Death crams his fingers into a notch in the wall and starts to haul both himself and you out of the water.

Shivering at the cold air hitting your skin, you lay your sopping hair against his spine and say, “Thanks for the lift.”

He's quiet for a time, most likely concentrating on scaling the sheer cliff face but eventually he rumbles out a gruff, “You're welcome,” and pushes on.

You get to the top and Death clambers over the lip, crouching slightly so you can slide off his back onto your own two feet again.

After checking that nothing had fallen off during the climb, you accompany your dripping companion through the doorway, wringing out the excess water in your top. Beyond lays a perfectly circular chamber, and although the ceiling is intact, it's significantly lower than the others you've happened upon. The space is large and, for the most part, empty, save for one detail that sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Huh,” you grunt, “That looks... out of place.”

Death's eyes narrow to a harsh squint and he quietly drawls, “Your powers of observation continue to astound me.”

Dead ahead, sitting in the centre of the damp chamber is an odd heap of rocks, branches and other various assortments of foliage, all cobbled together on top of an enormous, grey boulder that protrudes from the stone underfoot. The pile stands high over your head and looks so much like it doesn't belong with the rest of the room's natural décor, you can't help noticing it.

But while you only remain curious as to its odd placement, the horseman beside you is positively quivering with anticipation. For what though, you can't yet tell.

Just as you're about to ask him what he knows that you don't, the walls surrounding you begin to shudder, a low rumble coursing along the ground to shake you in your boots. Then, from the towering lump of debris, something lets out a piercing screech and scuttles from behind a mess of tangled brambles.

“What the Hell!?” you blurt out, stumbling backwards a few steps.

A bizarre creature resembling some unholy fusion of a rhinoceros beetle, a crab and a straight-up boulder scurries about on its six legs, a long, horned snout pointed up in the air as if smelling for something. It's only when you notice a complete lack of any visible eyes that you realise, even if it can't see you, it can probably smell you and Death.

Mostly Death.

The overgrown bug stops at last and snaps its head towards you both, lower jaw sliding open to show off a wide mouth filled with viciously sharp fangs, a low hiss escaping from between them.

“Oh great,” you say, “It knows we're here.”

“It is not the only one,” Death growls, and suddenly, he has his scythes in hand. You never even saw him move.

“What do you mean, 'it's not the only one?'”

He doesn't clarify, and your heart starts to beat a little faster. “Death?”

As if on cue, the chamber trembles once more, only ten times more violently and you nearly stumble into the horseman, who – of course – remains wholly unaffected by the abrupt tremor. Without thinking particularly hard on it, you throw out a hand and brace yourself against his sturdy forearm for balance, failing to note how it goes rigid beneath your grasp.

“What's happening!?” you squawk, but you needn't have bothered asking because a second later, you receive an answer.

Right before your eyes, the ground beneath the mass of rocks and bushes splits, crumbling apart in the wake of a gargantuan monstrosity shoving itself up and out from underneath the very stone itself. As it rises, it becomes clear that the vegetation is actually part of something much bigger, sitting astride a vast back like a growth. For a moment, you're reminded of an iceberg. For all that you can see above the surface, you just know there's something far worse lurking below it. Not a moment after the thought occurred, your comparison proves somewhat accurate.

A leg, thicker and longer than your whole body, wrenches itself free of the ground and slams down next to the smaller creature, and as you watch, horrified, five more legs tug themselves free to join the first. Then, with a final push, the rest of it appears.

As a whole, it isn't dissimilar to the first creature, excepting the fact that it's about twenty times the size and a hundred times more terrifying. The battering ram of a horn, extending at least ten feet from its forehead, swings wildly too and fro as the beast shakes itself loose of lingering debris and bellows out an ear-splitting screech.

“Jeezus,” you gulp, finally releasing Death and letting your hands fall limply to your sides, “that is one. Big. Bugger.”  

Unfortunately, the horseman doesn't appreciate your poor attempt at a pun as evidenced by a scoff that lingers somewhere between disgusted and exasperated.

“Karkinos,” he growls, bending low and switching his gaze between the smaller bug and its far larger counterpart.

“Oh, you two know each other?”

“She's... more of a household name.”

“....That's a she?”

The aforementioned 'Karkinos' turns its horrendous, craggy face towards the sound of your voice and while there are no eyes to find you, it has your position locked. Its angular jaw stretches open across the middle of its head where rows upon rows of teeth – each the size of your hand – gleam out at you from within the wet darkness.

“Do you think you can manage the offspring if I handle its mother?”

Incredulous, your eyes dart sideways to stare at the horseman. “Death, we...we can't fight that thing! She's too big!”

A soft snort, and Death - who still hasn't taken his eyes off Karkinos - hums, remarking, “I've faced far bigger than this.”

Chills run down your spine at his casual remark. It is difficult for you to imagine that there are creatures out there that are larger and more fearsome than this one. You don't have time to let your mind run wild with possibilities though, for the oversized insect suddenly rears back onto her hind legs and screeches, outraged at having her slumber disturbed.

“Maybe she'll be slow,” you whimper hopefully, “because she's so big?”

“I wouldn't count on it. Be ready to – MOVE!”

Death's urgent shout is all the warning you have before Karkinos suddenly propels herself forward, all six of her legs scuttling madly, carrying the heavy bulk in your direction at an alarming speed. She comes within metres of crushing you against the wall when a hand falls heavily on your shoulder and gives it a tremendous shove.

With a yelp, you flounder sideways and hit the ground hard, all the air leaving your lungs. Shortly after you fall, a rush of wind passes over your head and there's an almighty crunch, followed by a roar of pain which quakes the entire room.

Peeling yourself off the ground, you swiftly roll over to see what had happened and would laugh aloud if you could find the courage to.

In trying to flatten you and Death, Karkinos had managed to plough right into the solid wall at the back of the chamber and is now in the process of shaking the daze from her bruised head.

Across the room to your right, Death is already up and running.

Scythes drawn, he lunges for the bug's legs and starts slashing, no doubt trying to cripple it, but the hard shell covering her limbs proves too strong to be broken by even the horseman's weaponry and from where you are, you can tell it's no use, the scythes merely glance off her outer husk.

Giving her head one last, violent shake, Karkinos lets out another shriek of outrage and swings her horn down at Death, barely missing him by an inch as he leaps back out of reach.

“I don't think hitting her legs will work!” you inform him, getting to your feet.

The creature launches herself across the room at the horseman once more but he just has the time to shoot you a murderous glare and a “Really?” that's so heavily laced in sarcasm, you can almost taste the venom dripping from his tongue. Then, he's gone, darting backwards away from Karkinos's swinging claws whilst you watch on, helpless.

You're so focused on Death leading his assailant in this morbid dance that you don't notice the sound of scuttling legs approaching from behind until it's nearly too late. However, at that moment, the hairs on the nape of your neck suddenly stand to attention and you gasp, spinning around to find Karkinos's offspring stampeding towards you.

“Ah! Shi-!” Cutting yourself off, you scramble backwards and attempt to tug Death's pistol out of its holster, which proves to be a lot trickier than you'd like.

Meanwhile the bug is bearing down on you with no sign of letting up.

Closer and closer it charges, jaw hanging open and almost scraping the ground in anticipation of a kill. Already, you can feel the heat of its rancid breath hitting your skin.

“Come on, come on!” you mutter urgently, backing into a wall and still trying to release the catch on the holster, made trickier thanks to the water coating its surface and rendering it slippery to the touch.

Then, just as it seems you might have finally run out of time and beast's shadow falls over you, the pistol flies up and out of its confines, points straight down the bug's gullet and though it may be your hand that's wrapped firmly around the grip, you're sure the gun had moved as if it had a mind of its own.

As the bug lunges, spittle flying from its maw, a rush of hatred pounds through your gut so unexpectedly, you think you're about drop the pistol but instead, your finger squeezes the trigger and a bullet rips out of its chamber and blasts clear through the creature's skull, splattering the wall above you in crimson blood.

Blurting out a surprised trill, it falters and stumbles as its front legs give out, only to slump forward and crash to the ground where it slides to a halt, nose bumping against your boots.

Pressed up against the wall, you watch it twitch and writhe for several seconds, the gun still smoking in your hands.

Suddenly, the bug lifts its head into the air and the motion pulls a scream from your lips and immediately, you point the gun at it again, firing off several more rounds and only ceasing when it thumps back into the dirt, tongue lolling and an ever-growing patch of blood oozing from its grotesque maw.

The sounds of Death's fight against Karkinos still rattle the chamber but for just a moment, you allow yourself to breathe, shakily placing the pistol back into its holster and raising a hand to your forehead. The abrupt swell of hate you'd felt when the bug had been inches from killing you has faded, but the memory of it lingers. Shuddering, you curl your arms around yourself and wish you could shake the feeling. You've hated before, certainly. But never to that extent. It was almost as if the hatred had belonged to someone else entirely.

“Oh no you don't!”

The horseman's harsh shout thrusts you back into the moment and you give a start, head snapping up to spot Karkinos, who had wheeled herself about at the sound of gunfire and, upon seeing her offspring dead at your feet, lets out a mighty roar, scraping her front claw on the ground like a bull readying its charge.

Switching your gaze between the raging monstrosity and her ilk, your mistake eventually clicks.

“Uh oh.”

Karkinos howls and begins to thunder her way across the room.

However, before she can make it more than a few metres, a pale blur speeds ahead of her and suddenly, Death is standing in her path, a furious shield between you and the bug, his back arched and chin tilted down to glare up at her from behind the sockets of his mask.

In spite of her superior size, she slides to a stop just in front of him, stamping her claws into the ground, unsure of whether to advance.

“Karkinos!” the horseman bellows, “Your fight is with me.” With that said, he swings his scythes into a vicious uppercut, connecting with her cragged jaw, and while the move barely does a lick of damage, it does focus her attention back on her former target.

Teeth gnashing, she tries to knock Death off balance with her horn, though she misses spectacularly when he pushes off his feet and dashes aside, drawing her along with him and ensuring that she follows, away from you.

As he does, you abruptly realise that – unwittingly or not – Death has just given you an opening.

While the bug continues to stalk him back across the chamber, she inadvertently presented you with her backside.

There beneath the stony armour, lies a soft, pink underbelly, bulbous and distended and swaying back and forth like the world's ugliest pendulum.

A claw-tipped leg lifts into the air and slams down where Death had been standing mere seconds before.

The horseman feints left and manages to throw another strike at the bug, again to little effect. Karkinos tries once more, this time with the opposite leg and once more, Death spins gracefully to the right, barely avoiding a painful impaling.

But then, the overgrown beetle readies a leg for the third time, and that was the moment where things really went south.

You can see it in Death's muscles, how they bunch and bristle the instant before he makes to dodge left again, his feet planted firmly in the ground and the slight bend of his knees.

He'd already predicted Karkinos's next move and knew what action to take...or so he thought.

Evidently, he underestimated her intelligence, for as soon as she raised her leg and he threw himself sideways with the intention of evading a blow, she thrust her horned head forwards and caught the horseman square in his chest.  

Death's grunt of pain registers well before you even realise you've cried out.

The unexpected blow sends him hurtling backwards several feet where he collides with the wall, head smacking audibly against the hard stone.

There isn't even a second for him to recover before the bug is upon him again, ploughing into his torso with her huge, protruding horn and pinning him firmly in place, grinding forwards to slowly increase the pressure.

It doesn't take more than a second for you to understand that she intends to crush him.

Panic stricken, you freeze, curling in on yourself and staring unblinkingly at the disaster unfolding before you. All of a sudden, your indomitable protector doesn't seem so indomitable anymore. And that frightens you more than you thought it would because it becomes brazenly clear that it he dies, then you most definitely will. It's a selfish thought, but it's the first that popped into your head when you witnessed Death's mistake. After the knee-jerk, selfish thought that stems from an instinct to survive, there comes one that's far more sobering and separates you from your primeval ancestors.

The very prospect of Death being hurt fills you with the same kind of awful, debilitating dread that you experienced on Earth when you watched helplessly from afar as a winged monster smashed its way through the church roof and descended upon dozens of vulnerable people inside. Just as you had then, you find yourself struck by the overwhelming surge of determination to go back, to help.

On Earth, Death had been there to keep you from running headlong into danger.

This time however, nobody is here to hold you back.

Karn's sword is in your hand before you even thought about drawing it and shortly afterwards, you're running full-tilt, blood pounding like the beat of a war drum and eyes fixed hatefully on the creature's exposed belly.

Above the sound of scrabbling claws and your own, ragged breaths, you don't hear Death's frantic shout, but you figure his words can't be any more important than stopping this thing from killing him.

Crying out a mess of utter nonsense, you skid to a halt beneath her and, gathering all the strength your little arms can muster, you thrust the sword up and into the spongey, pink flesh above.

An agonised howl threatens to deafen you as Karkinos throws her head back, opens her maw wide and screams her pain to the heavens.

---------

Free at last, Death drops to the ground, collapsing forwards with one hand braced in the dirt and one splayed out across his battered chest. He will recover shortly, of course. This he's more than aware of. But that doesn't mean it didn't hurt something fierce.

The screech that invades his ears eventually garners his attention and Death raises his head, gaze falling upon the form of his stalwart, little companion, arms half buried in the guts of the monstrous beetle and a look of sheer terror plastered on your sweaty face.

So taken aback by the sight, Death murmurs your name in a gentle breath. “Y/n?”

At the sound of it, your eyes snap down to lock with his and for a split second, he could almost believe you actually look happy to see him.

The remotely tender pang in his chest is soon replaced by a jolt of alarm soon after as the huge beast abruptly swings herself around, faster than either of you could have anticipated and your arms are almost torn from their sockets, the sword sliding free of Karkinos's flesh with a wet squelch.

Time creeps to a near standstill and Death's gaze remains fixed unwaveringly to yours when her monumental horn sweeps through the air....

…and slams into your ribcage.

All at once, the oxygen is expelled from your lungs and steals the scream that had been on the very tip of your tongue. The force of the blow sends you flying several yards until you hit the wall with a dull thud and crumple to the ground an instant later, eyes squeezed shut while your mouth hangs agape, struggling to suck in even the smallest breath through such excruciating pain. Weakly, you draw your hands up towards your chest and there you lay, curled onto your side whilst Karkinos advances with measured steps, lips pulled over her gums and fangs to resemble what could almost be a cruel grin.

Unbeknownst to the horseman, his lips have peeled themselves back as well.

Slowly, he roves his gaze over your limp body, from the hair sticky with sweat and water to your tiny hands that are bent up against your heart, shaking vigorously.

He registers Karkinos stalking towards you and as she opens her mouth to let out a sharp trill, his stupor finally lifts, paving the way for an eerie calm to fall over his mind. The kind of calm he hadn't known in decades. The kind of calm that precedes a most vicious tempest.

It begins as a low thrum deep in his chest that slowly builds and builds until he can feel a dark, pulsating ball of ancient magic wedged in the place where a heart has long since ceased to beat. The malicious energy ripples outwards in waves, dispelling any heat from the room and leaving the air far colder than it had been minutes ago. For the first time in years, Death sits at the epicentre of his own, personal storm, inky hair billowing around his shoulders whilst his hands begin to elongate and grow, bones popping noisily whilst his eyes that once blazed like hellish fire now burn white-hot behind his mask's sockets.

The wind whips up around him and as he slowly begins rising into the air, his face disappears into the shadow of a tattered, indigo hood. A flash of blinding purple light illuminates the chamber, soon accompanied by a loud 'CRACK' and there, in the place where Death had been standing, is suddenly a huge, grim and ghastly spectre, hanging suspended in the air with an ancient cloak undulating out behind it.

Its head turns briefly to regard the small, gasping human on the ground, who's eyes are now wide open, bloodshot and staring up into the darkness of its hood as if searching for some semblance of a recognisable face.

Then, Karkinos shifts around to look at the newcomer, who's head snaps back towards her, long skeletal fingers kneading around the handle of a scythe that's almost as tall as its wielder and no doubt just as deadly.

Laying there on the floor, half conscious and in entirely too much pain, it's all you can do to look up between Karkinos's many legs at the giant shade as it stretches out a pair of wings that are devoid of any membrane or feathers. Bleached vertebrae clacks together loudly as it flaps them, a low hiss seeping out from beneath its hood, and when Karkinos turns fully to acknowledge the threat, it pounces.

Tears blur your vision but you can see the first blow it strikes with that wicked scythe, how it bowls the wretched bug right off her feet and sends her crashing onto her side, legs flailing madly as they try to regain purchase on the ground.

Darkness suddenly covers your eyes and you don't realise it's because you've blinked until the haunting, cloaked figure is once more in view, its weapon slicing a perfect cross into Karkinos's underbelly.

The next thing you see is that belly splitting open and a torrent of blood comes gushing out of the wound, flooding the grey stone below and painting it a shade of glistening red.

Another period of darkness passes and upon opening your eyes, you find that Karkinos lays utterly still nearby while the spectre hovers in the air at her side, staring down at the corpse with apparent disinterest.

You blink again, and suddenly, its eerie gaze is turned onto you.

Crying out results in no more than a pathetic whimper. Anything louder and you fear your ribs might break, provided they haven't already.

Delirious, you try to speak. “D....De...”

The phantom looms closer and from the corner of an eye, you spot one of its hands creeping towards you and a fresh bout of fear swells in your chest. “Dea...th!” you croak urgently, “He-elp!”

It's no use. Large, chilly fingers work themselves underneath you, curling around your torso and lifting you off the hard ground where the creature continues to raise you until you're within a mere foot of its face.

Sucking a paltry amount of air in through your teeth, you squint up into its dark hood and press yourself back against the hand that holds you.

“Mmm...Monster...” you breathe, more an observation than an accusation. As if in response, its shoulders slump noticeably, wings drooping a little along with them. 

Finally, your ascent halts and then, it's just you – a young, wounded human – staring up at a figure that's so strange yet so, so familiar at the same time. The part of you that isn't hurting and struggling to breathe wonders how both can be true. How can you recognise something you've never seen before?

All of a sudden, from out of the purple cloak, there's a gentle rattle, followed by a gust of frigid air that washes over your face. Then, eyes widening just a fraction, you focus on the cold, finding that it too is oddly familiar. On a whim, you muster up what precious little oxygen remains in your lungs and exhale, “Death?”

The rattle turns into a low hum which rumbles through your body and the spectre's head dips once, then bobs back up again; an unmistakable nod.

“But.....how?”

Ignoring your question, the Reaper shifts and moves a finger to brush the side of your torso where Karkinos had battered you moments before.

In an instant, white-hot pain lances through your ribcage and you twist your face up, too weak to squirm away. “ARGH! S-Stop!” you choke even as darkness bleeds into the corners of your vision, “You're hu..,hurting me!”

As if he'd been struck, the horseman whips his hand back and an apologetic croon warbles out from under his hood which he shakes rapidly from side to side, trying to convey without a word, that he hadn't intended to hurt you. Listlessly, you wonder why he isn't speaking before a more pressing matter promptly calls for your attention.

Trying fruitlessly to calm down your thundering heartbeat, you pinch your eyes shut and grasp at one of his finger bones, giving it a weak tug as tears stream down your cheeks and drip onto his hand. “Death,” you gulp, failing to hide a flinch when the void where his face ought to be looms closer, “Can't...breathe.” No sooner had you uttered those last words than your eyes roll into the back of your head and Death's insistent rattling fades into silence.

  --------

It takes several, long moments for the horseman's Reaper form to move. One by one, his long fingers curl over the human in his grasp. Although unconsciousness is never ideal, in this instance it seems to be for the best, as already your breaths are coming in a little more easily and your tiny chest begins rising and falling properly. Karkinos's attack had winded you but it was your own panic that exacerbated the symptoms. From what he can tell at a glance, nothing critical is broken.

'Eideard,' the Reaper's more rational counterpart whispers in his mind, snapping the beast out of his trance and pushing his attention to the open doorway standing invitingly at the far end of the round chamber, beyond which he can clearly make out a lever sticking out of a raised dais. You'd both made it. Even the more primal aspect of the Grim Reaper can recognise the end of the goal.

A gentle rush of air escapes from the hood, so quiet it could simply be just another breeze blowing in from outside. Gliding silently towards the lever, the spectre is so busy fighting to stay in control of its host, reluctant to relinquish its hold of the fragile life in its palm, it barely notices that its rawboned thumb has taken to stroking gently down your chest.

#darksiders #darksiders 2 #Death #Death x Reader #Reader #Chwh #Cold hands warm heart #whump #angst #banter #Death's a snark #but he means well #Karkinos #blood #bugs #Reaper form #hurt

[upsmymindwanderedagain]

Story of The Ice Wolf

Part 12

OTHER PARTS:

PART 11    PART 10     PART 1

WARNINGS:  heavy stuff coming, mentions of explicit physical and psychological torture, blood, injuries, use of taser and electrocutions.

Hey fellas! My apilogies again for keeping you on the edge.

As always all mistakes are mine. By the way this is 8k+.

Someone tases you awake, the table in now in a vertical position you try to look around your jaw is hanging open, at the sight of the terrified technicians you are sure you are back in reality. The pain behind your eyes makes you want to rip them off, your head feels heavy, you can feel drool falling from your mouth (or is it blood? Who knows).

“Le-let her set a few days you can try by then, it’s been hours if we keep going you will give her an aneurism”.

---

(A two weeks later).

They try two more times, but now your mind is a mess, you’ve successfully managed to blur and made up scenarios, memories and alter missions, still you are sure that something slip through your subconscious, when they snap you out of the anesthetic they sport small smirks instead of their usual sullen scowls.

(Eye patch will kill me; would it be that bad though?)

---

(A week later).

The twins make their way to the outskirts of a Brazilian city they got a call from an ex-business partner, they arrive to an old abandoned factory, the guards guide them to his office.

“I’m actually surprised that you showed up, want something to drink?” The Belgian man motions towards a beer package.

“Cut the crap Klaue, you said you have intel, talk” Wanda coldly states eyes shining red.

“Or what? Will you play with my mind? I hope this time you don’t have a fucking psycho robot with you”.

“Keep wasting our time and I will chop off your other arm” Pietro says juggling his daggers.

Ulysses visibly pales a few shades “Very well, you know I don’t give a damn about Y/N, the bitch sold me out to king T’achaka…” the twins step closer threateningly, he rises his hand in surrender “But, we indeed did good business for many years”.

“What do you want?” Pietro asks face set in utterly exasperation.

“Keep S.H.I.E.L.D off my ass, the C.I.A is close too” he says eyes darting between the twins “So… who’s the boss now?”

“Talk” Wanda sternly says as energy dances on her hands.

He snickers a little “You are the older twin Pietro, now little witch runs the business?” he says laughing a little, Wanda sends a dagger towards his temple without moving a single finger, the tip of the dagger punctures softly the man’s forehead, he gulps nervously “A-A government agency moved her from here like three weeks ago…” before he can go on Pietro uses his speed to grab him by the collar and slam him against the metal wall, papers and things scattering around “wa-wait, wait let me finish, I-I called you as soon as I heard I-I swear” Pietro looks to his twin Wanda only nods “Go on” he doesn’t ease the hold “They were moving her to Raft… I don’t know what that is, but they are taking her there, that’s all regarding her location” Pietro lets him go and goes to Wanda’s side.

Ulysses is left coughing and panting on the floor, the twins turn around walking through the door to leave “Wait” the twins turn around “The agents were complaining about how much they beat her up with no success, she hasn’t talked since they took her… they said something about mind games. I’m sorry to say this but she might not comeback from that” he beings to rumble a small laugh “Like can you believe that? they might crack that fucking stone-cold bastard” he says with a hoarse snicker.

The twins keep their features schooled as they glance each other “We will do our part of the deal, call us if you know something else” Pietro says before he lifts Wanda bridal style.

---

(A three weeks later).

A heavy metal door is open two sets of boots echo in the room, a body is slumped forward no doubt the chains are the only thing keeping it from falling over. "Wolf" the person standing before the slumping body gently taps the latter in the face. "Come on Wolf, wake up". You head is heavy and pounding, ears ringing, you feel like dumped shit but you can hear someone calling you. "Come on Wolf". (Wolf? They never address me with my S.H.I.E.L.D code name) the voice sounds familiar, but you can’t match a name. You set your jaw you have no doubt a nasty headache will hit you full force when you open your eyes doing it anyways you are greeted by a quite familiar face. She nods towards someone, and you tense up "Hey, hey Wolf easy, the injection will help you, be quiet we are undercover" the woman whispers lowly. Your body gives up either way. "Drink this" A straw is put on your lips, you refuse at first, when you try to talk your voice sounds so foreign and is barely a broken hoarse whisper "Last time I drank something I threw up blood". "This will take the edge off. You know who I ‘am right?" she asks softly.  You blink the blurriness of your eyes, your voice sounds so foreign in your ears it sounds raspy and hoarse and the air that flows out of your mouth when you talk scratches the sensitive tissue “Ho-how could I forget your ugly mug Bob?” you start drinking the liquid, it has no taste, but the burning of your guts starts to sooth. You need to take little breaks while you drink “Sha-ron, is that you?” you murmur brokenly.

“Hey Wolf how did you know?” she briefly turns off photostatic veil too.

“Hun-ter would be hyper-verbal” you want to elaborate further but every word hurt. While you drink she leans on your left ear "We signaled the location, hold on" you end up the drink "The kid is alive and doing good with the others" you only manage to nod before the darkness envelops you once again.          

---

Tony, Steve, Bruce, Natasha and Bucky are waiting in the conference room when Coulson walks in "Avengers we have a special mission for you". "Shall I call the others?" Steve asks leaning in front. "No. This mission requires discretion, you are the chosen ones" he says with a tiny smile on his lips. Nat doesn't miss the tiny glee in Coulson eyes "We are retrieving Y/N" she says with a smirk. "Then you get why the discretion part is vital. We have two undercovers. You better hurry up to the awaiting quinjet" he states with a small smile.        

---

You are in the middle of a slashes session when the alarms go off all the personnel tenses you manage to hear some soldiers screaming “Hydra” (Fucking damn). If Hydra is here, you have a good idea of who might be and that’s far from good. Your voice is a hoarse sound “Hey! release me, if they get in here you can be sure as hell that you will lost the intel you handler wants”.

“Shut it Ice Wolf!” the man hisses, you can see the rest of the soldiers tensing up.

“Don’t be stupid do as I…” (They are dead) the agent taser you before you could rant further.

---

Your dark oblivion is awfully interrupted when you feel liquid filling your windpipe, the worst natural reflex kicks in, you can’t tell fake from real you try to breath in and more water gets in the trachea. Someone pulls your head out of the ice-cold water, leaving you a bloody coughing mess on a metal chair. You are still trying to even your breathing when someone presses a knife on your throat. A man talks in Russian "Oh right bitch they are sick of your silence, start talking or I'll gut you out" you spit blood on his face giving him a bloody smile. (A new face, one I thought I will never see again). Your voice is broken and husky "Don't mind me go ahead" you feel the edge of the blade retreating, he briefly moves away. You see him grip something from a metal table close by. "You stupid Ice bitch!" he hits you with an inch and a half rebar, the cling of the rebar against the metal of your chest hides the crack of the left clavicle the hit knocks you off the chair (shit no playing around anymore). This time no one pulls you off the ground the Russian cold face Sergeant gets close and digs his knee on your diaphragm, pressing your neck down with the same rebar "I have specific orders to kill you, you told them intel, two experimentation labs destroyed in Africa one in Asia. I thought I trained you better to keep your mouth shut soldat. Option A, serve again like an asset we won't beat you to death, option B the opposite to A". You give him a bloody smirk, your voice full of mockery "Now you do the dirty work? that’s low. Is your dog dead?” deep inside you are thrilling for the upcoming fight, you won’t go away that easy. "I'm waiting for your answer Ice Wolf" he spats at your face. Your voice becomes a deadly hiss "Know that when this is over, you will beg mercy to the twins". He gives you a nerve wreaking psychotic smile "I will make you howl Ice Wolf". "If I don't kill you first" Thanks to Bobbi you are high as fuck and up to some degree pain free, (time to kill) using all the strength you can muster you push him off you, you dodge the next swing of the rebar rolling to your right, doing a tight roll backwards you stand up to dodge again the rebar. They try to electrocute you again using the collar but you rip it off and throw it at one of the soldiers the electrical discharge takes him down, you grab other rebar from the steel table and start beating down the soldiers in the room, as the soldiers fall you snatch two hunting knives and begin painting the room in red. ---- *Stark tell me that you are close* Bobbi says with a ragged breath her voice cutting between gunshots. *We are ten minutes away, what's wrong?* Tony asks worriedly at the sound of the background. *Hydra is here, a fight broke out, Wolf is killing them but she won't be able to fight them all. We are fighting to back her up, but the prison guards and Hydra soldiers are keeping us at bay*. ---- You took down the soldiers in the room, Yuri lies of the floor with a wide gash on his temple, you made the mistake of not making sure if he was truly dead, is a rookie mistake but your sole focus is getting the hell out of there.

Your breathing is ragged and heavy, you got the handcuffs damaged during the fight using all the strength you can gather you smash them against your metal knee breaking them, you take two guns and the keycard to open the door. Once out you set up to run. Yuri pretends to be out cold, unknown to you he took a dose of the serum Salarov used when he had you under his command, after he hears you exit the room and gives orders through his comm "Soldats Catch the Ice Wolf”. ---- You are running through the hallways of the facility, is more like tumbling-limping through the halls the adrenaline has numbed most of your wounds, but still the dizziness are not helping you, the prosthetics are malfunctioning. You hear some fighting and gunshots but they aren't close to you so you go to the opposite direction wishing that you didn’t hallucinated Morse and Carter so you can lean on them to get you out of the place. You keep running until you reach an open space, a foyer like circle with five hallways you set to run ahead, when several agents block your way out, there’s at least twenty Hydra operatives, there’s two more with different uniform, you smirk at them “Soldats, long time no see or shall I say hi mom?”. "Traitor surrender, there's no place to go" the woman coldly states you catch the sight of the spider like dispositive on the right side of her head (that’s no good no chance to turn them against the others). You grind your teeth you wish your thoughts can reach the others (I'm sorry guys), standing on guard you let the Hydra operatives get close, when they are within your reach you begin the assault, you quickly take control of the rifle of one of the soldiers using him as human shield you fire against the rest. Sooner than later the man is riddled with bullets, not wanting to be burdened with a dead body you throw it at the pair of soldier who simply step out of the way. Unfortunately for you there’s two winter soldiers, in your current state they are stronger than you but they initially stand by just watching, after you kill ten of the reinforcements, the male winter soldier comes at you, you use his punches against the other operatives that are not fast enough to move out of the way of his punches and kicks, you do your best to keep up with the man, using your prosthetics as shields and landing a couple of good punches with your left fist and leg.

You know well their fighting methods, this past years you’ve adapted techniques that they never saw you using and you take advantage using a couple of muay thai combos, slip out of a right cross punch and land brutal roundhouse kick with your right leg cracking a few of his ribs sending him flying back, two operatives jump on you as the first bullet pierce your left leg making you partially kneel hissing in annoyance, the female soldier shot you on the back, still you manage to shoot down three more soldiers before you feel something pierce your lower back, you growl in pain and on a reckless move you throw yourself to stab the male soldat running towards you, the movement is reckless and even childish he doesn’t hesitate to plunge his knife above you’re the right side of your hip the steel clanging against the metal scales burying itself in the patch of skin between the hip and ribcage.

The man uses a front kick to send you stumbling backwards you hear one more gun shot that ends on the left side of your ribcage, you glance at the source of the bullets the woman is juggling a rebar mockingly before she swings it at you, you try to put up your right arm to block the weapon, but the rebar smashes the already damaged bionic limb, the rebar crashes on the right side of your skull the clang of the metal colliding resonates in the open space. Your body falls heavily on the left side skidding a little. Someone walks close to your fallen body; the last thing your blurry sight registers is the damned bright dark liquid. The soldiers take an arm each and drag you as they run to your former cell, leaving a bloody trail behind. Back in your cell they wasted no time using you as flesh dummy, punches, daggers Hydra style torture session inflicted by super soldiers and black serum running through the body, effective as hell. You are currently hanging from the shackles of your wrists; your ragged bloody clothes were torn apart revealing all this past months nasty handywork.

You are more unconscious than conscious, but Yuri is pacing around you like a predator, making you dizzy, he speaks in Russian “Is such a shame that you betrayed us after all Y/N. You were our best weapon, the best winter soldier we ever had… offspring of two bloodthirsty assassins, even now you should be dead and you still breath” he lets a defeated sigh “I almost feel bad for killing my favorite fight dog, but we need to send a message…”.

"The Avengers are here sir" the male winter soldier states. "Damn it, chain her back to the wall, let's use her as leverage". Yuri wipes off the blood running down a large gash on his forehead, product of your now smashed bionic limb. You are deadweight when they envelop you in heavy chains and prompt you back to the wall. ---- Steve, Nat, Bucky and Tony are rushing alongside Bobbi and Agent 13 towards the cell indicated by F.R.I.D.A.Y. "Morse you were supposed to keep an eye on her" Tony growls at the named woman. "This is not time to point fingers at Tony" Steve states. The first place they run by is the interrogatory room, the only thing left were the dead soldiers. A full carnage and butchery. "What the hell is this?" Tony asks lifting his suit face piece, eyes widen in shock he gets nauseous at the sight. "'This is the real Ice Wolf for you Stark" Bucky says somberly. "Oh lord” Tony gags at the carnage the scene looks like a horror movie, blood splattered and smeared around, bodies and body parts everywhere “But she is not here". "There is barefoot prints" Nat says, the trail of blood and a quick swift for you told them your current location. *Mr. Stark there is a group of retreating agents running out of the base, there's another group three people, a fourth one with vitals fading, located on a cell west side* They hurry towards the cell, Tony blasts the lock, then Steve and Bucky are the firsts to rush in the others following in suit, Yuri have his gun leaning on your head. It's quite the view, you are slumping forward surrounded by several heavy chains the only clothes left are the sports bra and the spandex shorts, the small patches of skin visible have already darkening bruises, blood is slipping through the links of the chains, making a pool on the floor. His two soldats stand by each side of your body, their daggers crossed by each side of your throat the sharp edges between the almost nonexistent space between the chains and your underjaw, both sport the spiderlike dispositive they used on you.

Bucky has his rifle pointing at the sergeant cold-stone face “Yuri, drop the gun” his voice is low and full of rage.

He answers on a heavily accented English “Look at her Winter Soldier, I will be making her a favor. The American government did good job, she was dying anyway” he states with a wide smirk “Besides is up to the handler to dispose rogue dogs, she is no longer wanted on Hydra’s ranks”.

“Drop the gun or I’ll make a whole on your chest” Tony deadly sneers as his energy repulsors shine brightly.

Yuri keeps a smug calm face “I’ll give you a deal, me and my soldats walk out of here and you can try to save her”.

“There’s no deal drop the fucking gun” Tony sneers the answer repulsors shinning brighter.

“Stark you don’t need to be a genius to know that the energy blast won’t reach me before the bullet blows her grey matter” he pokes your head with the gun barrel “And seems like Quicksilver is not here nor the Scarlet Witch, you made a grave mistake leaving them behind”.

*Mr. Stark I would suggest you let them go, miss Y/N is in critical condition*

Tony lifts his face plate “Get the fuck out here” Yuri smirks in triumph, he pokes you one last time with the gun before holstering it, Nat and Steve move ahead weapons down as Yuri walks out first but the soldiers press harder the edge of their daggers on each side of your throat making an ‘X’, unfaced Yuri walks to pass beside Tony who halts him with his left arm, Tony doesn’t take his eyes off of you “Not today, not tomorrow, but I can assure you, we will hunt you Yuri, you will pay for this”.

“Good luck Stark” he says mockingly. He leaves the room first after he is out the soldiers follow him.

---- Even the effort of thinking hurts, you might be delirious, but you could swear you heard Tony's suit. Your foggy mind registers two sets of boots getting close. The only thing that Nat can muster is "fuck" as she and Steve get closer "Tony we need you to cut off the chains" the red head calls. They try to move you, prompting you to hiss in agony, your automatic response is to try to flinch away from the people around you but your attempts are in vain the heavy chains keep you still. “F.R.I.D.A.Y hack all the devices, I want all the footage and data available”.

*Already in process sir*

Tony walks close to you and gently calls "Robowolf we need to cut off the chains" you might be hallucinating, is like Tony is talking to you. You feel someone caressing softly your face, way to gentle to be the soldiers that were beating you down before. The sound you can muster is barely a broken breathy whisper "who?". "It's us Y/N. Nat, Steve, Bucky and Tony, damn even Morse and Sharon are here, is a party" the read head softly says. The gargling blood and wheezing makes it hard to talk but you manage a weak laugh "Hey...took you… long enough... I was dying of boredom" they try to smile at your sass, but they end up making a bitter gesture. "Robowolf this will hurt" Tony nervously says. "Tell me… something new... Aah!" a long with the metal being broken by one of Tony’s lasers a gargled scream echoes in the silent room, something crunches when the shackles are broken. Bucky can’t will himself to get close, so he goes to guard the entrance, Steve and Tony hold you with ease and lower you down as Bobbi and Carter get close to help, they start to carefully take off the chains from your body, this time you don’t bother holding back your screams and hisses of pain. Bruce rushes past Bucky who barely have time to move aside, the man quickly kneels beside you with a medical suitcase at hand. "Bruce we told you to stay back" The billionaire says half scolding half relieved that Bruce is now there. "F.R.I.D.A.Y updated me on her vitals, we have no time to loose". They don't need to be a doctors to realize that your time is running out, your body temperature dropping down from being extremely hot, you are clearly several pounds down of your normal weight, the bionic limbs stand out for their bulkiness against your flesh limbs, Bruce rushes to attach several portable monitors. When they remove the chains from your neck, the thin tube in your neck is shown. "Is that an I.V?" Steve asks in disbelief, the skin surrounding the tube is angry red and swollen.  Bruce only nods and uses it to inject some serums in the hopes of help your enhanced recovery ability he takes your face between his hands, your eyes shifting between being alert and dull "Hey Y/N, Tony will carry you to the quinjet, I need you to stay awake". You give him no answer, the amount of pain you are take you back to the day you almost got blown away you just want the twins, Wan can sooth your pain “Wa-Wanda… Wan… Piet…” your words start slurring as your mind starts to shut off “Let’s take her to the quinjet” Bruce states with rare display of authority.

--- Everyone is back in the quinjet Bruce doing his best to keep you alive, slowly the blood escaping your body begins to stain the floor, Natasha, Bobbi and Carter are helping him. Bruises, slashes, bullet grazes and gun shots cover your body. They might be succeeding in beating you to death.

Tony is updating dr. Helen and sending all the data F.R.I.D.A.Y recovered from raft “Tony you need to hurry to the compound, T’achalla indeed has better technology than us, but there’s no way that she is going to make it to Wakanda… the best choice is stabilizing here then take her there to heal”.

---

Dr. Cho is ending the call when Anika comes barreling through the glass door, if Stark didn’t invest as much is high quality strong materials the doors would have shattered “Helen! Why the hell aren’t they here yet?!” the girl says in a mix of exasperation and annoyance. Helen jumps a little in surprise but keeps working on the data sent by F.R.I.D.A.Y and the actualizations Bruce is sending in live stream.

“They are flying towards here, is not that they can teleport” the woman says as she briefly eyes the anxious girl.

“They can’t but I can. F.R.I.D.A.Y show me their location” one of the screens show a map with the quinjet still in the middle of the ocean and images of the general context

“Anika don’t do reckless things, you can’t teleport to somewhere that far nor somewhere you don’t have a clear image of” the doctor briefly grasp the girl bicep trying to keep her in place.

“I won’t sit here and wait for them to bring her on a bag, get your equipment ready” the girl shrugs the other woman hand and closes her eyes trying to picture the location as her wings morph out of her back.

“Anika don’t!” She vanishes, the twins rush in Pietro and Wanda glance around “Where is she?” the brunette asks, Helen sighs in annoyance and hurries to organize her team “She went for Y/N”. The twins lock worried glances.

---

As soon as the call is over a hologram shows up in the middle of the quinjet. "Stark why the fuck is no one answering. Where is Wolf and the others?" "Nick… Y/N is in critical, Hydra got in before we arrived" Tony answers with a scowl, Steve is standing by a deep frown set on his face. Fury mirrors the other two men expressions and his features darken, Maria’s features shift quickly from surprise to stern anger "Agent Hill, find out how".  "Right away sir" the woman answers as she moves out of the picture. "Have you notified the twins?" The man asks as his hands travel to his hips. "Yes, they are worried sick. We are going as fast as we can, the twins should be there by now”. ---- After Fury's call Bucky walks to Natasha’s side she is trying to keep inside the blood oozing from the bullet in your ribcage, he starts helping too. He notices the absent gaze in her partner "Tasha?”

Her voice is low, a mixture of anger and frustration “We should have been faster Bucky, this asshole has saved us many times and we failed”.

He grimly nods “Is not too late yet, she can pull through this is no overstatement that she was the strongest out of the winter soldier program, she survived being literally half blown away”.

“Your words aren’t comforting frosty” Tony bitterly says as he hands Bruce the nano spray that Peter developed, the spray manages to seal the wounds.

Before they can try anything else Anika appears in the middle on the quinjet besides Tony, the man jumps aside in freight his right hand clutching his chest “You little wing-ed hell, how and what are you doing here?!”.

She is clearly out of breath and answers between pants “I’m here for a ride back” she sass as she tries to catch her breath “You are taking ages, is next month better for you?” she says as she walks close to the gurney where you lay unconscious, her eyes get watery but she mask it with a snarky comment “Damn it Wolfy you don’t look sexy anymore” she says with a tiny bitter smile.

The girl moves to stand by your hips using her wings to keep the other four away and takes several deep breaths, Bruce tries to interfere “Anika what are you…?”  when she vanishes everything is gone, gurney, you and the medical equipment attached to you. “F.R.I.D.A.Y! where the hell is the kid?!” Tony asks worried the A.I doesn’t answer right away, after a few tense seconds she answers *She is in the medical area of the compound sir. Dr.Cho is taking over*.

All of them breath in relief, before they can scatter around Anika appears again in the middle of the quinjet she looks around to find her targets “Fossils come here, Wolfy needs blood” she hurries to grab Steve and Bucky by the back of their clothes “Anika what the…” Bucky tries to protest but she vanishes again.

Sharon and Bobbi share confused looks “Is that normal?” Bobbi muses with a confused expression, the others just shrug.

*Miss Anika most of the time steps out of line miss Morse but she is good intended* F.R.D.A.Y answers.

“Well that’s not what I meant, I meant calling out names”.

“That’s normal too” Natasha says with a small smirk. ---- [72 hours later] Wanda, Pietro and a very pregnant Zrinka with seven months already are sited outside the I.C.U room, your body still too weak and fighting off the infection. Bucky and Anika were called in for an audience. Deputy Director Maria Hill walks in and silently stand beside them. Pietro is the first to break the silence "The last time we saw her so broken and attached to that much equipment was when Hydra captured us the second time" Pietro softly says his eyes never leaving your broken body, his face is stern, but his eyes fail to conceal the rage storm thundering inside, Zrinka is softly rubbing circles on the back of his left hand. Wanda who is sitted by Zrinka’s left side is no better, her face is stern, the rage within her makes her eyes constantly shift between dark green and bright red. Maria silent swallows a little before she speaks "The general was given five years of domiciliary arrest, the agents where condemn to jail too. We are keeping a close eye on the Hydra sergeant and his people… unless you want to visit him" Hill states standing by Wanda’s side, arms crossed. The brunette sokovian doesn’t take her eyes off of you "Keep him under the radar, that is Y/N's right to kill, if… if she doesn’t make it through we won’t hold back" Wanda states, the prospect of you not pushing through seems so foreign and yet plausible at the same time. Hill only nods and proceeds to sit close by the brunette’s side "Y/N, Bucky and the kid are free from charges" she dutifully states before reaching out to squeeze the sokovian’s hand softly, Wanda turns to smile softly at Maria and leans her head on the woman’s shoulder.

“She will push through this Wanda, that bastard is way to stubborn to go away without spoiling root her nephew” the three sokovians snicker softly at Hill’s remark. ----

Tony is currently trying to contact Shuri through a video call, Shuri’s cheerful face shows up in the hologram “Hey Mr.Stark what can I do for you?” upon noticing Tony’s somber expression she schools a little her features “Mr.Stark is something wrong?”.

“Shuri could you give me a line with T’achalla? We have a serious problem, we need your help”.

She looks suspiciously at Tony’s seriousness “Sure give me a second” she fiddles a little with her bracelet to contact the king… after a couple of seconds he picks up “Shuri I hope this is important I was in the middle of… Hello Stark, what can I do for you?”.

Tony tries to school his features but his worried eyes are enough to tell that something is wrong “T’achalla we need your help, Y/N is in critical condition, Banner and dr.Cho doubt she will survive with our technology, our best chance is with your help”.

“What in the name of Bats happened? Wasn’t she under government jurisdiction?” He muses “Shuri, make the arrangements please” Shuri only nods and hurries to assemble the medical team.

[Five days] The twins and Anika have been a constant outside the compound I.C.U room, Banner, Cho and T’ahalla’s best doctors are monitoring your vitals, wounds and surgical incisions, your body is a mess and is not healing at its usual fast rate the malnutrition you suffered during your captivity and the chemicals your captors used to keep you under control now mixed with the black serum are making everything slower and dangerously normal.

The medical team lost you a couple of times during the multiple surgeries, you flat lined four times already, leading you to sport mini pads that keep your heart beating constant, this time your bionic limbs and connector plates had to be completely dismantled and discarded, the circuits and components were useless, Shuri made a temporary textile caps that now replaces the metal scales and protect your organs.

The riskiest emergency surgery was the craniotomy with open surgery, the rebar swing you took to the head did quite the amount of damage the metal plate and the upper part of your skull where removed to avoid more damage due to the swelling of the brain. Anika is snuggled between the twins her long wings surrounding them. The wolves are lying at their feet belly down and alert their ears shifting at the minimum sound. The medical team walk out of your room. Upon their exit Wanda is the first one to ask as she wipes out from tears threatening to fall "How is she?". Banner is the one who tries to take the lead in the explanation "The-the infection is starting to back off but...” she fiddles with his glasses, Cho sees his uneasiness and goes on for him “she slipped into a coma, her nervous system was under constant overdrive with the electrocutions, and she has a severe concussion, it's matter of time and up to her to wake up. The last beat down she took caused a lot of damage". "Can't you give her more serum? I can go back to the old security house, Salarov had several doses there" Anika hurries to say. "That's not wise kid, besides her body is frail, it won't stand the strain of that makeshift serum” Baner says as he fiddles with his glasses. Frustration takes over the girl features "So, we just sit here doing nothing?" she muses anger filling her voice. Dr. Cho beats Banner to answer, "Anika we already did everything we could for her, Princess Shuri and Stark are working in new bionic limbs, Y/N is way too stubborn and strong if someone can pull through this is her". The sass on the younger girl’s face is quite evident but she doesn’t talk back. "We will grant you access when her body gets stronger, don't sneak in again Anika, F.R.I.D.A.Y is watching you". The twins turn their heads towards Anika raising a quizzical eyebrow, she only shrugs in answer, she indeed sneaked in last night. ---

After a week the twins and the others were granted access, due to the fragil state of your body they weren’t allowed to crowd the room. The two persons sticking by your side most of the time were Wanda and Pietro, the wolves by default were guarding you sometimes inside the room sometimes outside.

Pietro was usually kicked out by Wanda sending him to be with Zrinka even though Zrinka didn’t mind that the male twin stays with you, she knows how much you mean to him and even for her you’ve always been that person to look up to.

Costel was the one having a hard time coming to therms with the image of you bed ridden with tubes, machines and things attached to your body, he has never seen you like that, sure he has seen you hurt but never like this. By the other hand Anika is not astonished by the situation, however that doesn’t mean she is ok with it, she hates seen you like that. She hates seen Wanda hurting, Pietro is not bantering like usual, Zrinka looks sad. As much as she wants to deny it the twins, Zrinka and Costel have become her family.

With the team things are a little mixed, everyone is angry the ones that were tasked with retrieving you are bitter. Bucky and Nat wanted revenge right away however the twins halted them alleygating that the revenge is yours, not theirs. If you didn’t wake up, then as a team they will lay waste on Yuri but not before. Tony fell on a guilty trip again, he is blaming and over thinking the ‘what ifs’ luckily for him Pepper read him like an open book and has been helping him through alongside Wanda, who has calmed his racing mind several times.

After doing a technical stop on the compound common room for some tea, Wanda is making her way back to the hospital ward when she comes across Pepper who is in casual clothes sweatpants, Stark Industries tee and sneakers, her body language and face is a mix of worry and exasperation, she stops the older woman by simply stepping on her path “Hey Pepper is everything alright?”.

“Yes, I’m just looking for Tony F.R.I.D.A.Y told me he was in the lab” her voice fails a little to conceal Wanda’s suspicions.

“He is overthinking and blaming himself” she simply states, Pepper just sighs in defeat and relief that someone else has seen through Tony’s antics “Yeah”.

“Mind if I help?” the brunette asks.

“If is not bother, I know you want to be by Y/N’s side” Wanda smiles softly at Pepper and goes with her.

Pepper tries to get in, but the access is denied “F.R.I.D.A.Y open the door please”.

*My apologies Mrs. Potts, Mr.Stark has requested that the door remains closed*.

Wanda gives Pepper a small smirk before Pietro slides to a halt beside his twin, Pepper yelps softly in surprise “Pietro I swear one of this days you’ll give me a heart attack, and don’t you dare to say you ‘didn’t see that coming?’ I swear” the woman says as she clutches her chest.

“What you said is enough” Pietro says with a smirk “What’s going on?”

“Do you mind opening the door?” Wanda says playfully, Pepper just looks at her in disbelief “What are you…”

Pietro simply shrugs and goes to the touchpad panel, using his speed he gives F.R.I.D.A.Y no chance to stop the overwrite of codes, and the door opens he silver haired man makes sure to interrupt the speakers in the lab before motioning the other two women to walk through.

“Is there anything else I need to know about you three, are you a secret engineer or something Pietro?” Pepper muses.

“Actually, Mechanic and some engineering, I always wanted to build things” he says with a shrug, the blonde just shakes her head in amusement.

When they step in the lab Tony is working on some formulas, there’s several holograms of brain structure, there’s several notes sprawled around and several empty pots of coffee and bags of junk food.

“Well If I didn’t know better I’d say you are trying to build a new super soldier serum” Pietro says with way too much sass, and he actually gives Tony a good scare who was nose deep reading some notes.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing here speedster?!” Tony says clutching his chest and glaring at Pietro, before he rants further he notices the other two women he calms down his racing heart “F.R.I.D.A.Y what’s the meaning of this?” the A.I doesn’t answer “F.R.I.D.A.Y?”.

Pietro moves to one of the screens, Tony tries to stop him “What do you think you are doing Maximoff?” the silver haired man just rolls his eyes and restores the codes and F.R.I.D.A.Y’s talking interface.

*My apologies Mr. Stark, Mr. Maximoff over run the lock code*.

“Yeah I figure that, is there like anything else under your sleeve? Secret MIT degree, super technological enterprise” he turns to regard the brunette sokovian “and you Wanda are you a psychologist, best seller author, secret introvert musician like SIA was?” the twins just snore at his rant shaking their heads in disbelief as Pepper just sighs in annoyance.

“The hacking and spying skills are just Hydra’s standard training for super soldiers or in our case enhanced” Wanda says.

Tony gets visibly uncomfortable at the mention of Hydra “Well nice chat, got a lot to do” he walks towards Pepper “Honey why are you here? Shouldn’t you be resting?”.

“Says the man that hasn’t sleep in five days” Pietro says out loud.

Tony briefly turns to regard the sokovian “Don’t you have somewhere else to be speedy? Adults talking you know” Tony says glaring at him as he motions with his hand between Pepper and him, Pietro rolls his eyes and moves to look around Tony’s work.

“You now what Stark… this guilt trip won’t bring her back, burning out yourself trying to find a faster way to wake her up won’t help you get rid of the guilt you are drowning in” Pietro says with an uncharacteristically serious demeanor and sober tone as Tony argues with Pepper.

“Excuse me?” the billionaire says abruptly cutting off his discussion with his wife “You heard me” Pietro says as he fiddles with the 3D projections of the new prosthetics, Wanda just watches the scene she knows that Pietro is pushing Tony’s buttons.

“What makes you think I’m doing this out of a guilt trip, Y/N… your sister is lying in comma in my medical ward not even Wakanda tech can bring her mind back, she is an Avenger and as my employee I’m trying to find a way to help her”.

“And you know she needs to be in comma to let her body heal, why the hurry? Why can’t you work this in normal hours?” Pietro says inquisitively as Pepper frowns.

“What’s your point Pietro?” Tony says walking closer to the silver haired man in his argument he didn’t see nor feel Wanda looking in mind.

“We aren’t blaming any of you Tony, certainly not you, you’ve done all in your power to help Y/N and we are grateful for that” Wanda says as she walks close to put her hand on Tony’s shoulder, when he turns around he sees her eyes still shining red.

Tony knows better than to keep denying after Wanda read his mind “Why don’t you blame us?… blame me? How can you two be so calm and not seek revenge right away?”.

“We have learnt to see the bigger picture Tony” Pietro says looking into Tony’s eyes. “Pietro” Wanda tries to cut him off.

“No, no by all means Pietro where is this wisdom coming from?” Tony says crossing his arms, Pepper just chatises him with a “Tony” but Wanda nods at his twin.

“I saw our sister being almost blown away, we saw Hydra keeping her alive to make her a weapon, we saw her being prodded like she was a thing to make her ‘useful’ to Hydra’s goals…”

“We heard her scream in agony during all the procedure, the times there was silence we even wished she was dead, so her agony will end…” Wanda interferes her lower lip trembling as she tries to keep her cool demeanor Pepper just gives her a bittersweet smile as she reaches to squeeze her hand. Pietro goes on for her twin as he half hugs her “We know what people is capable. But the only thing we’ve seen these past years here is kindness, comradeship, you guys have been doing everything to keep her alive and with no further interest”.

Wanda manages to keep her emotions in check to go on “Of course we don’t blame you Tony or any of you. We knew this could happen since the moment we turned our backs to Hydra. The sole training and years serving their ranks was enough to foreshadow what could happen to any of us”.

Tony is looking at them with pure disbelief, but he shakes his head a little “You three are something” Tony moves to walk between the twins to slump on his chair “After we broke her free from Salarov’s control and I was helping her with her limbs she told me not to blame myself that it was her choice and her actions what made her fall on their grasp again…”.

“And she meant it” Wanda cuts him off.

Tony sighs as he hangs his head backwards “then I couldn’t keep her away from being sentenced”.

“That was a trap Tony, one way or another she would have end up in that position” Pietro says.

Tony starts jiggling Pepper is about to scold him but she sees the twins giving Tony a small smirk “What is wrong with you people? What’s the funny part?” the woman muses exasperated.

Between jiggles Tony manages to say, “That the twins from hell won’t let me mope around, they just rip away every chance to blame myself”.

Wanda’s eyes shine red as red energy dances around Tony’s head, she calms his racing mind and negative thoughts giving him a sense of inner peace and forgiveness regarding all this mess. After she hears him breathing in and out she breaks the link.

“Now go to sleep Tony, you won’t be useful for anyone falling on a cardiac arrest” Wanda half orders, Tony just smirks at her “Is this how you keep robowolf under control? Bossing her around eyes shinning red”.

“She uses the trick to boss her into other things too” Pietro says casually earning him a good punch on the shoulder “Ouch”.

Morse and Carter usually come by the compound, even when they don’t say it out loud they feel guilty too. But Wanda and Pietro called in a meeting on the main conference room and made them stop their pity parties. It has been three months since you fell in comma, with the care of the medical team your body looks stronger and yet lean, making really odd the sight of your body lying on the hospital bed, most of the wounds left new scars other vanished without a trace. The top ‘lid’ of your skull is back on place and with Helen’s work it leaved no trace that it was once removed.

Two months ago, your little nephew finally came to greet everyone, nevertheless to say the whole team was ecstatic by the new member. Pietro and Zrinka named him after the twin’s father Fedor. The wolves were more than happy with the tiny human, they usually felt torn about being by your side and being with the human pup that smell alluring and needed protection… but you needed protection too, so they spend the day running and hitching rides between the Avengers Tower and the Compound, usually one of them stayed with you at the compound, while the other stayed in the tower, most of the time it was Orion who stayed by Wanda’s side.

Pietro was absolutely happy and thrilled by the arrival of his baby boy but in the back of his mind he couldn’t help the constant thought of wishing you would wake up soon. Naming the boy after his father was a way of honoring the man but also was kind of a bittersweet reminder that their parents weren’t alive anymore… then the train of thought of all you did to keep them safe and even more now that you aren’t awake to snap him out of his racing mind with a “I did it, I got the scars, get off your ass”.

Anika spend her free time teasing the silver haired man to no end calling him “sexy papa” and Costel never hesitated on joining the teasing but he wasn’t out of the danger, the girl is always teasing him about being Pietro’s first born due to their close relationship. However, when she is not glued to the twins side or breaking havoc around the compound she is with Zrinka and mini speedster.

--- Wanda and Anika are standing behind the glass wall. You are lying flat in the medical bed a woman has medium sized magnets over your energy meridians. "Wan…are you sure that's going to work?" she asks with absolutely doubt in her speech. "Well, we lose nothing trying, Tony said she is the best in acupuncture and magnet therapy, the body has energy, her nervous system was overdriven, this can help to put it back in balance". Anika turns around to look at Wanda’s profile "Have you tried getting in her head? I'm sure the wolves have". She brunette grinds her jaw a little as she nibbles her thumb fingernail "No, I've never tried it in someone in coma, I rather not risk it". After almost two hours the woman exits the room, "Miss Maximoff we can make a couple more sessions, however this session is enough. I will advise you all begin interacting with her, your telepathy can be helpful bringing her mind back". "Thank you". --- Five days later your body started breathing on his own, prompting a little scare to Pietro who has softly playing some tunes on his acoustic bass when you started choking in the machines and tubes that were helping you breath before. Banner and the med team hurried in and took off the tubes, once done your body eased back. Pietro is hovering over your with worry written his face "Bruce is she alright?!". Bruce gives him a small smile in reassurance "Calm down Pietro she is fine, her body just reacted to the equipment, she is breathing on her own now" the scientist says with a small smile. Nevertheless to say the hole team was happy with the news, this was a step closer to you waking up. --- Your now six close human family members and the wolves were even more reluctant to leave your side, now that you were breathing on your own you were moved to your room in the Avengers Tower, Your family only left you for training, missions and getting food, Costel joined the sleep overs. Pietro and Zrinka slept in their room with little Fedor, but they were more than alert for any change they were quite eager for you to wake up.

The next one who got a good scare was Anika while twins were on a mission, she was softly practicing in the guitar some chords and scales that the twins had taught her, but she couldn’t focus at all "Come on Wolfy you gotta wake up, you owe me a rematch… Wanda told me you are a better guitar player than them... Please just wake up" a tear runs down her cheek she doesn���t bother wiping it off, she keeps playing on until she gets startled when the sound of your metal fingers grazing the bed sheets reach her ears, she puts the guitar down and hurries to grab your left hand. "F.R.I.D.A.Y call dr.Cho" "Right away miss". "Come on Y/N it's wakey time" Your metal arm keeps shifting on under the sheets, the metal scales of your limbs moving aleatory. When dr. Cho came in your metal limbs were moving less, but the hand being held in Anika's gave her a faint squeeze, Helen made a quick check-up but still you didn't wake.

Helen didn’t let Zrinka enter the room due to the risk of you waking up and lashing out. After her checkup your movements had eased "I'll notify the twins upon their return. It’s time Wanda tries with telepathy, Y/N's neuronal activity scans are normal, and her body is completely healed"

"The only thing I got was the Wolfy might wake up and Wanda needs to stop being a pussy".

"In your own words that's the translation" Helen muses.

"Are you calling me dumb?" Anika asks her voice challenging.

"You played yourself kid" the doctor deadpans, Zrinka who is standing by the door did her best to hide her jiggles, Anika only glares at her.

---

[later that same day]

Wanda was alone in the room with your still unconscious self. She was lying by your left side, snuggling close to you "Come on babe you need to wake up, we miss you... I need you" she leans in to kiss you softly above the left eyebrow “I’m so, so sorry Y/N we failed you, we didn’t get you before Yuri”.

As she leans down you rest her forehead on your temple, bitter tears start running down her cheeks, some of the tears drip down her chin to damper your cheeks "Y/N/N I need you, not just as my girlfriend, you are my friend, my family, without you my home is broken" she peeks you softly in the lips as tears keeps running down her face. Unknown to the others she is being trying to tap in your mind, but you have your mind blocked.

---

I don't know if I'm asleep or dead, the pain feels so real, the stink of blood, infected wounds and lack of shower have make me reek a few times already. Time is an illusion. I've screamed no one came. Did they left me to root?

---

I'm not sure if I'm dead or alive, sometimes I see us back at Sokovia, sometimes in Hydra cells, other times we are back in my days as Hydra captain... Am I living o re-living? I could swear I hear Wanda talking to me, she sounds sad… I… just want to hold her.

A/N:

Hey fellas! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, I’ll stop making promises, I’ve been awful keeping them, so I’ll just try to post weekly.

Holy shit now there’s 76 of you following my brain rant?! that’s awesome. Thank you to everyone who follows this blog, that give a like and/or reblog the chapters and stuff I put here, tank you too to the ones that just past by.

Have a nice weekend guys!

#wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch x reader #pietro maximoff x reader #quick silver x reader #avengers x reader #shield x reader #story of the ice wolf #part 12

[vardasvapors]

Fic meme: 16 + Elrond & Elros

16. small birds, dry grass

Eärendil sprang up from the rim of the silent sea, and hung in the evening that poured into the west. Above him the golden smudge of the waning gibbous moon was floating down on the sunset’s fiery dying breath. Below, the ocean’s cup caught the sky in a mirror.

“Tilion is chasing Papa again,” Elrond murmured from Elros’s side.

“Mm. He has sunk closer in my lifetime, and still not caught him,” said Elros. They’d had this conversation at least two dozen times before, but Elrond sounded just as wondering every time, and so Elros was glad to have it again.

They had lain on their backs lazy with heat all afternoon, smoking, with their arms folded behind their heads, in the parched grass and dusty summer heather of the highlands above the blue bay of Andúnië. Now the cool salt air came up from the sea, bringing wakefulness. In over four hundred years, Elros still had not become used to the blazing sun over Númenor.

The air was still bright, and lit the wings of the white seabirds as they streamed homewards into the uttermost west, crying strange and mournful above the sighing waves.

“They fly to the quays of Avallónë,” said Elros, “Gulls’ cries! Do they call for you to sail after?”

“Aye, one day,” said Elrond sleepily. “Time will come. Do you wish it too?”

“Aye, but I think the longing for things forever unknown is sweet when unfulfilled. Don’t you?”

Elrond laughed softly. “Thanks to you, yes, I have learned it is so.”

Elros reached out for the pipe. “My eyes cannot follow the birds to Eressëa any longer. Only in dreams.”

“I am sorry. Or, is it better in dreams?”

“Perhaps it is better in dreams. In waking, all the birds are too small.”

He stopped and frowned. He had not meant to say that, but his pipe was good, the evening was sweet, and his company was as old as he.

Elrond opened one eye and gave him a keen look before softening. “I know.”

There was companionable silence, upon wayward paths of thought.

“Elros!” Elrond poked him between the ribs. “Elros!”

“Yes?”

“Say, you could probably get a better look at the seabirds — or they could get a better look at you, without setting their feet on mortal lands — from the sky.”

This time Elros opened one eye, suspiciously.

“What.”

“Remember?” Elrond rolled over on his side and rested his chin on one hand, eyes lit with dreams, an aggravating recollection of a reflection — all unlined eyes and smooth rosy cheeks and thick silken black hair. “If you took the old hang-glider over Forostar like we and Urwendë and the children used to, who knows what you might yet meet?”

“You brainless little scallop.” Elros levered himself up on one elbow. “I am four hundred and ninety-six years old. My fingers—” he flexed them, “can no longer grip, and my joints —” he puffed pointedly on the pipe, “—are seized with rheumatism. I am too old to go hang-gliding. Or for that matter, pearl-hunting, or spark-diving, or isle-rafting, or whatever silly elf thing you were going to bring up next. If I wanted to die immediately, Eru willing, I would be sure to take your advice.”

“Ah, I see!” said Elrond, raising an eyebrow though his voice was strangled with laughter. “Do you not think drowning in the bay while chasing birds and stars is a fitting way to go out? You could declare it another tradition, for all the Kings of Westernesse hereafter. Like what you said about the—”

“I said a lot of things when I was young.” Elros stretched, handed Elrond the pipe, and settled himself in the grass. “Now I pray to die right here, and I should like to reach five hundred before I do. And—I have not been hang-gliding in nearly three hundred years, for I only went with Urwendë.”

And at that, Elrond simply nodded, and lay back again.

“Very well,” he said, only a little too gently.

The lighthouse of the haven came alight, and began to spin slowly, a clear flame throbbing on the sea’s edge. Elros thought back, far back, before wives and kingdoms, where it was dim.

“Elrond!” He whispered. “Elrond!”

“Yes?”

“Can you remember for me? In Sirion, the night Before, I promised Mama I would do something for her the next day. But I cannot recall what.”

“I remember,” said Elrond, gravely now. “You promised her you would show her the shell city you had built in the cove. But it was not for the next day. You said you would show her some time, whenever you were finished.”

Elros stared up into the sky, and felt a pang.

“Oh. Some time. Some time!”

The birds’ cries echoed fainter, Eärendil’s star burned deeper, the moonlight dissolved in the water at the edge of the world, where the doors of night were opening. The spark of white Avallónë flickered a moment, beyond the sea.

“If you wish, brother,” Elrond said finally. “We could go up in a balloon.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Then Elros sat bolt upright with a start.

“What!” he said, rubbing his back and wincing. “You have a hot air balloon?”

“Come, would I have offered what I do not have?”

“A balloon! Here! What if I died while you were waiting to tell me! Tyelpe finally got them to work? Do they go very high? What did—”

“Indeed he did, after all these centuries!” This time, Elrond looked as old as he really was, sitting up cross-legged and grinning around the pipe in glee. “A gift, of the silence of the skies, from the hither lands to Elenna that lies starwards — he had one sent to the lighthouse, with his regards, if you want it.”

“Want it! I can’t believe I spent decades doing the cartography of this island on the ground, only to get this now when I am past due to sail out from harbor. The trials of mortality! Ask him to send more for the children, will you?”

“I promise I shall. And Elros, I do not know how high or far it can go. Shall we be the ones to try it? That is,” Elrond added thoughtfully, a gleam leaping to his eye, “if your old bones are up for it. You know, the sun gets terrible hot and the winds can knock the basket about a—”

“Oh shut up, shut up old man, of course we shall be the ones to try it,” grumbled Elros, holding out his hand and waiting to be pulled to his feet — Elrond was already standing, hand out, vital as memory. “If we hurry, we might lift off in time to meet the seabirds flying back when Papa sets in the dawn.”

#starspray #elros #elrond #numenor #the silmarillion #my fic #memes and assorted tumblrosity #with mentions of #elwing #earendil #first queen of numenor #celebrimbor #tilion #idk if you even remember prompting this it took me so long to unlazy enough to start it (even though it didn't take long to WRITE lol) #but it was a great one! #for vague clarification...i def think numenoreans only get super old when they live 'too long' but i always hc'd elros DID live too long #and also that e&e would refer to their parents either by name or by children's terms since they never knew them as adults #the tale of earendel

[exilevilifyrp]

                                             file: introduction

full name: robyn kane age: 27 identifies with: state of dreaming by marina and the diamonds genesis: organic gender: intersex + female identifying (she/her) portrayal: chloe bennet

                                                                   file: biography

TW: Guns, hospitals. blood, death

Robyn Kane dreamed of mangoes.

Sweet, sap-fleshed fruits she could describe in such vivid detail you could feel their gold-yellow dripping down your throat. They had, Atticus rationalized, been her mother’s last meal request; three mangoes, halved, (pits still in, please!) cubed at about one inch in diameter. Such a tremendous yearning this must’ve been that it found its way to her daughter, who in turn ate up washers and packing peanuts, swallowed down marbles and screws in her futile pursuit of sweetness. “Normal toddler behavior,” articles on his armlet read. “Just whack ‘em hard on the back if you see ‘em gulping away anything important.” Of course, Atticus never whacked Robyn, but the idea of normality washed relief over the father. “Still,” a voice nagged, often late, often red-eyed on the pull-out couch of their rusted apartment. “What could be said of the planets?”

Well, for one, they were huge! Vast, sweeping expanses Robyn dreamed up with forests high as the SungX building and deserts red as the setting sun. Sands that stung in sporadic blizzards. Skybirds who soared over archipelagos in triangular formations, fighting fish over seafoam, their hunger a constant, bitter pang. Such were the untrekked settings that congregated heroes to Robyn’s stories, that in turn congregated ruddy-faced factory cleaning kids, their stinking mops forgotten, around her during their glorious hour of lunch break. “Pew pew pew!” Robyn would say, her small voice teeming with life, “and then the heroes and the villains became best friends, and no one’s mom had to die, and the planets weren’t lonely for anyone, anymore. I accept tips via my dad’s credit account or in mangoes. The end.” And then, in the same tidy fashion as always, everyone would pack up and get back to scrubbing floors.

The crowds dwindled after parents caught word. Scrap metal never fell far from the ship, people said, and everyone and their android knew that Kane kid was going to turn out bad. That monster - Clemence Kane’s - child had those same foxlike eyes, lips the same raw swath of ochre…a gaze that flickered time to time with the same strange, insatiable hunger. “Stay away from that Kane kid,” workers warned, their fingers shaking, their grey uniforms all the same. Fathers cursed and flicked cigarette butts. Mothers pulled their children to the other side of the litter-caked road. And so the crowd on the back steps of nutripowder factory, which had once overflowed like steel wool from a storm cloud, shrunk to the size of one lonely droplet.

Robyn kept herself steady by looking upwards. She’d work hard, she’d be so helpful they’d all have to come around. Tears found it harder to squeeze by when her face was lifted towards the ceiling, and muscle memory kept her mouth pulled into the same sweet, little grin. At lunch, alone with her flavorless mix of powder, though, her lips would tremble - until her eyes caught sight of the strange heroes who, day in and day out, would flip and fly above her city.

Wash Captains. That’s what her dad said when she asked him. And they weren’t villain fighters - they were actually cleaners like both of them were. Still, hearing their hoots and howls as they tumbled from building to building, their washbots flocking behind them like rafts of ducklings, sent a rush up her little spine. The Captains grew into her new idols, another reason for her to dream. And every day during break, she’d make it further up the walls of her own building, brave a further jump from height to height. All until one day, she plucked up the courage to follow her heroes, trying to keep up, but finding herself slipping behind.

“Talia, you’ve got a tail!” A Captain signaled for the group to slow down. The lot of them, adults between their early twenties and late forties, decelerated to a pace that wouldn’t endanger the kid, though they did this surreptitiously enough that the twelve-year-old thought she was catching up.

“What’s your name, speedster?” The youngest one, Talia, asked.

“I’m Robyn Kane!”

“Well, you’ve got guts coming up here. I like that.” The rest of the group didn’t shiver or scowl, instead, they just shared a kind, collective laugh. “What’s good?” “Nice to meet you, Robyn,” voices chorused. And when they darted off to work on their respective building groups, Talia gestured for Robyn to follow her. She stopped at the edge of a metallic skyscraper, her washbots swarming to wipe the windows of the behemoth adjacent. From dawn until dusk, she let Robyn shadow her, explaining what a Wash Captain’s duties were, the test it to become one, and difficulties the job brought with it. Long hours, limited work lifespan, days without rest…the ability to problem solve and stay cool under pressure was paramount. But if you were the right kind of person, you’d find family here like no other. And Robyn hoped, hoped, hoped that with enough effort, when the year’s test came around, she’d be ready to join them.

Setbacks were inevitable. Sprained wrists, lack of formal training, exhaustion after back-to-back days at the factory…nothing, though, that could quite prepare her for the sickness. A flu, its origin the lungs of a machine operator, spread through the adults, then the children, then to her. Everyone and their uncle hacked up phlegm for two weeks, their faces pale green from the night sweats, though none fell quite so ill as Robyn Kane. A hospital rush led to injections, led to IV drips, led to peals of hushed conversation, led to the sound of a final lamp smashing outside her door.

“The warden promised they’d treated her!"

"The CD4 count-”

“Fuck the CD4 count!”

“Sir, can you just…”

Robyn shivered. What was her dad talking about with that doctor? Was she going to die? And what had made him so angry? Her eyes had already begun drooping shut when Atticus came back in, though, his face shaking with anger.

“What’s going on, dad?” Robyn tried to roll to face him, but he shushed her.

“You’re going to be okay, kid.” He kissed her head, sitting gently at the side of her hospital bed. Only when he thought she was asleep did a sob leave him, the sound of heartbreak, of betrayal, of an uncertain man.

In truth, the doctors weren’t sure how she’d survived so long. ARHIV - or advanced resistant human immunodeficiency virus - was livable with treatment, but going nearly thirteen years without, especially after being born with it…well, complications usually reared their heads sooner. Still, the NRTIs seemed to be lowering the viral load in her blood, and with the aid of intensive anti flu meds, her immune system managed to struggle through.

“Take your meds,” Dr. Ota said, as Robyn and her dad breathed fresh air for the first time in three weeks. “And remember, any fluids that come out of you are not to be touched by others.”

Atticus wanted Robyn to rest. She was still weak from her bout of illness, but almost a month had gone by without any exam preparation, and she wouldn’t let anything get in the way of her dream. She pushed herself to jump farther, to climb higher, to memorize every protocol in the Washbook. And when test day came, she gave it everything she got. “We’ll call,” her examiner promised, though the stern look on his face was airtight. “We’ve only got room for about three people this year, so don’t get your hopes up too high, okay, kid?” But when the buzz rang out on her armlet that evening, her hopes had already soared through the roof.

“Hello?"

"Hey, is this Robyn?” Talia’s voice drifted in through the speaker.

“Yeah, yeah, this is me, Robyn- Robyn Kane - Kane, Robyn - I-”

“Marks Building, speedster. Tomorrow. 5AM.”

And then the call clicked out, and a teenage squeal woke nearly half of the building.

The job wasn’t all games and glory. Most days, she went home with limbs that threatened to tear off, but how many people could say they ended a shift by skydiving off a building? Magnetic gloves carried her to the very top of the city, reminding her of her smallness, though a hoot from one Wash Captain to another reminded her she was never alone. Skyscrapers rushed together as air gave way to metal under her feet, running upwards and downwards, leaping from one to another with an expert’s grace. This was, save for her, the kind of movement reserved for heroes, and shadowing other Captains to get the hang of more advanced techniques ensured she continued to grow. From this vantage point too came new insight on the city - inequity others more often chose to ignore. Apartment Piles - swaying stacks of low-income housing - were collapsing. At first, it seemed accidental, but then the breadth of the falls seemed more sinister. Factories bought out the land. Overwatchers failed to check the sites. And since a lot of first responders wouldn’t set foot in the rougher neighborhoods, the Captains took it upon themselves to search and rescue.

Such was her transformation from girl to hero. Pulling injured folks from buildings, keeping kids safe…it was this grit and responsibility that matured her. Time with her dad became precious. Happy hours with friends began to mean more. But youth was still youth, after all, and when time brought on an admirer, Robyn’s heart began to palpitate.

There’s was a typical teen meeting - boy watched girl soar from building to building, boy plucked up the courage to wave, girl told him she’d come say hi during her lunch break. And so said boy appeared day after day, wonderstruck in crooked glasses, his hand outstretched to offer a cool bottle of water. A Harbor boy, Deek Jenkins. When they talked, her lies grew from goosebumps to mountains - yes, her mom was nice, yes, she’d eaten a mango, yes, her dad was a world-saving space pilot and, if she disappeared for a few days, it was because she helping him fight off evil. Truth be told, she wanted to keep Deek around. But how could a Harbor boy remain interested if he knew about her dark origins, her sickness, how a job washing windows was the most exciting thing that’d ever happened to her? Instead, she told him about the skybirds, the archipelagos, the burning sands. All while the virus inside her was shifting, overcoming her medications, and threatening to overcome her as well.

Time passed. Deek began bringing two water bottles. Robyn always finished the one he brought with a still-thirsty gulp, then gobbled down two, then three, and he was about to bring four when she stopped showing up.

“Check the clinic on Fourth, kid,” the Wash Captain, Talia, who visited in Robyn’s stead offered. So check Deek did.

“Hey,” he greeted, pulling a whole cooler of water bottles to her hospital bed. She uncapped one.

“You’ve found me out, Jenkins.” The twenty-year-old’s lips quirked upward, falling as a hack expelled from her lungs. “I’ve caught an ‘opportunistic infection.’ Tuberculosis. Not fun stuff. And while we’re at it, I’ve got another disease called ARHIV, which my doc just said’ll probably kill me by 35. And my mom-”

“Was a rebel terrorist,” Deek finished for her. “Who killed upwards of a hundred Overwatchers and their associates. She was sentenced to death six months after being turned in by a man named Thomas Martineaux, and would’ve been sentenced immediately had she not been pregnant with you.”

Robyn nodded. “Happy?”

“No.” He paused. “I mean, yes, that you were honest with me.”

“Why’d you hang around then, if you knew?”

Deek shrugged. “I guess I just liked you.”

“I guess I just liked you too.”

Robyn got over her infection. Time went on, work continued, and she was back on the rescue grind. The number of collapses grew, and the public’s anxiety grew with it. Her dad, who’d been promoted to a managing janitor inside the factory, spent time cleaning the inside of apartments despite danger, and three times, buildings collapsed with him in them. Each time, Robyn would hold her breath, her body trembling, her boots pounding miles to find he was okay, but there was never a second to spare for a hug or a word of relief when she got there. Every moment was instead spent pulling people from the wreckage, searching for help, until one day, a shard of glass changed everything.

“Don’t-” Robyn tried, but Talia had already reached in with a cut hand to pull it out. She jerked her leg away at the last minute, preventing contact, but it was in this moment that she realized her own body was a danger, herself a hazard that could be spread on. How could she have been so reckless, so stupid, to endanger everybody? Any time, she could’ve gotten cut. Any day, she could’ve spread her disease. Rescue efforts were abandoned, and happy hours avoided for fear of being seen as a coward. Until Deek Jenkins, again, came to her aid.

A birthday present - the big twenty-five. Robyn was huddled up on the couch, watching a livestream of an apartment collapse from her armlet, when Deek came in.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” She asked, but he just grinned at her, extending a parcel from his hands to hers.

“I, uh, made this.” His eyes sparkled as she unwrapped it, a costume of fine, black material, cape included. “I know the design is kind of corny, but you’ve always been into the hero thing and you’ve seemed so down ever since Talia, um…the fabric’s cut proof. In the case that something gets through, though, there’s a compound on the inside that’ll immediately clot your blood, so people are safe, no spread. And I also wanted to tell you that I-”

“I love it, Deek.” Robyn’s lips rose, then fell as her eyes honed in on her screen. A pair of Overwatchers, their bodies too small to be seen clearly without zooming in, moved in the corner.

A familiar face, familiar gait, familiar everything. Suddenly, it all made sense. She checked her armlet.

“8:30. Pile A7X.” The apartment her dad was suppose to be cleaning. Time to put Deek’s outfit to the test.

The rescue mission was a rush of pure adrenaline. A building scaled, a fire alarm pulled, and hundreds evacuated in the nick of time. She gave no name - a vigilante, in and out before anybody could ask. And now it was time to get to the bottom of the collapses.  

She made her way to the factory. Dark, no people or stars to be seen. If she could get into her dad’s office, maybe there’d be a list, some way to predict the next Pile falls. She’d save hundreds of lives, expose a massive conspiracy -and then a dot of red light materialized on her chest.

“Robyn.” Her father’s voice broke the silence. “I can explain-” “Explain what? How you’ve been killing innocent people for years?” All those apartments cleaned, how she thought he’d actually been in danger.

“Rebel suspects, Robyn. They’re killing thousands. Hear me out, I-”

Her eyes hardened. “You’re going to pay for this.”

Atticus’ lip twitched, another Overwatcher making his way beside him.

“We’ll kill her off, Martineaux. Don’t worry about it.” The man raised his mass accelerator, his finger draped on the trigger and then… five shots. A dropped body. But her dad’s weapon had made the blast.

“I’m sorry, Robyn.”

Another rustle. Deek- Deek had followed her. Maybe they could overpower him, find a way out, but Atticus whipped around, firing a shot before the boy could even blink. His body fell, an innocent who’d given his world for her. And then another shot. There was no time to think, no time to process, only dark.

When her eyes opened, they saw earth.

                                                                  file: known associates

KIT BEISEL - although many of the crew seem eager to hear more of your great adventures, kit always seems to sit in the corner with a glint of skepticism in his eye. it is the kind of look that must come from years of dealing with frauds like you, and your greatest fear is it one day leading to question on the validity of the intricate tales you’ve constructed. you try to avoid him all you can and hope that he keeps his tongue, should he have any real suspicions.

                                                               THIS CHARACTER IS UNAVAILABLE.

#robyn #organic #all #closed

[empyreanturtle]

Brothers at Arms (A Final Fantasy XV one-shot story)

A/N: A story in which I try to explain some of Gladio’s and Ravus’s bizarre in-game reactions as best I could. Also, I always felt that Ravus made a much better foil to Gladio than to Noctis (both older brothers, both aggressively protective), and I thought it would be interesting to have them interact when they're both feeling like they failed in their roles. I actually started this scene AGES ago (just after Ep Gladio), and with Episode Ignis seemingly filling in this same time gap, I wanted to finish and post it before Square Enix does their own take on what happened. Spoilers abound!

Read on AO3

Gladiolus Amicitia paced back and forth along the hallway between Noctis’s and Ignis’s rooms at the First Secretary’s estate. Sitting around for the last three days since Leviathan’s awakening had given Gladiolus plenty of time to replay what happened, trying to find the reason everything had gone so wrong.

The Empire was to blame. Their attack on the Hydraean made a bad situation turn horrible. Gladiolus knew as soon as Leviathan appeared that getting her blessing would be harder than Titan or Ramuh. They hadn’t been easy, but Gladiolus recognized an anger in Leviathan that the other gods had lacked.

The Empire’s involvement only fueled it further. They attacked the Hydraean with the full power of their army. And every time they missed, the rounds impacted with the city below. Despite the “recovery force” they deployed after the battle was done, it was clear to Gladiolus that the Empire had no regard for the people of Altissia.

Gladiolus had done his best to protect the Altissians, helping them move to the higher levels of the city as the water rose. But he hesitated when he saw the Chancellor’s ship flying towards the fight, towards Noct. Trying to decide whether to go to his King, or help Ignis with more of the citizens. And that’s when Gladiolus heard the shell blast below. He rushed to pull Ignis from the water as fast as he could, but the damage had been done.

And now Ignis was blind, Noctis was in some supernatural slumber, and the Oracle was missing. That moment of indecision caused him to fail at protecting all of them.

“A weak shield protects naught,” Gladiolus murmured. He clenched a fist and pounded it against the wall. He hated that Ravus’s words still rang true despite everything he had done to make himself stronger.

The sound of Prompto returning to the estate, whistling his silly chocobo song, gave Gladiolus his chance to get out for a while. He was done with the siege mentality, done with waiting around until they had no choice but to defend themselves. He was ready to take action.

“Heya!” Prompto greeted him cheerfully as they passed. “Where ya goin?”

“For a walk,” Gladiolus replied.

“O-kay, buddy,” he replied slowly, then mumbled something about finding a better mood while he was out. Gladiolus only waved his hand in response, knowing Prompto didn’t deserve any of the words likely to come out of his mouth.

Outside the estate, the people of Altissia gathered along the sidewalks on the highest levels of the city. Over half of the city below had been flooded, and the lowest level was still underwater. He walked south of the city center to the rows and rows of tents that had been set up as makeshift homes for those who had lost theirs. It was only one of four camps set up around the city by the Imperial Army’s recovery unit.

As he entered the southern camp, it didn’t take long for Gladiolus to catch the familiar scent of Mhaago’s wood-smoked fish. It stayed with him as he walked his usual path to a tent at the end of the second row, where he lifted the flap, and walked inside.

“Welcome, lad,” Weskham greeted him with a wave. The restaurant proprietor had been given a larger tent than most, in exchange for his cooking abilities. Inside, two shelves of various drinks and cooking supplies sat behind a table that served as a prep counter. On the opposite side, another long table had benches down each side, and in the back corner was a small wood-burning smoker.

“What brings you here today?” Weskham asked.

“Needed to get out for a while,” Gladiolus responded. He took a seat on one of the benches, and Weskham set a plate of the fish in front of him.

“On the house,” Weskham clarified.

“Surprised people aren’t lined up for this,” Gladiolus said. “I smelled it from the edge of camp.” He took large bites of the meal, glad for the food but eager to get to the point of his visit.

Weskham folded his arms. “Oh, they’ve all had their share already. It’s the least I can do to help with my city’s recovery. And speaking of recovery, how fares the young King?”

“Still asleep. But the docs say he’s fine.” Gladiolus pushed away the empty plate. “Hear any, uh, interesting news lately?”

“Depends on what is interesting to you,” Weskham replied. “Most of the fishing boats were destroyed. The few left have been hired by the First Secretary’s estate to provide rations for the city. The Oracle is still missing, and while some suspect the worst, most people are still hopeful.”

Gladiolus frowned. It hadn’t been his duty to protect Lady Lunafreya, but he felt like he failed her all the same. “Any news about the Empire?”

“Of course,” Weskham said with a knowing smile. “They have started their relief efforts to help stabilize the city, but the main force is preparing to leave. Only one company will remain to oversee the city’s recovery, under the command of General Ungaro. Of course, the same effort in Insomnia has not gone well, from what I’ve heard. I suspect that’s why they removed the High Commander from his position.”

“Ravus…” Gladiolus clenched a fist beneath the table. Ravus was the one leading the Empire’s attack on Leviathan, and on all the other Astrals. He led the hunt for Noctis, too. The Empire was to blame for their situation, and Ravus had been at the front of it all.

“Now,” Weskham continued, “If I were the High Commander, I wouldn’t stick around to see what consequences come with the demotion. The Imperials rarely give second chances, and never give a third.”

“You know where he is?” Gladiolus asked. He felt fire rushing through his blood at the chance to take out the man responsible for everything. For Noctis, and Iggy. For Altissia. For Jared Hester, and everyone else who had helped them along the way and suffered for it.

Weskham shook his head. “There are only rumors of a man in white armor headed east of the city. In the direction the water is draining.”

Gladiolus saw no reason to delay. Ravus was going to pay for everything he had done. “Thanks, Weskham,” he said as he moved towards the exit.

“Be careful, lad,” Weskham replied. “A son of Tenebrae doesn’t get to be High Commander of the Imperial Army without the strength to enforce it.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

Gladiolus found the signs of someone walking swiftly, and heavily, out of the city to the East, just as Weskham said. The person was trying to hide their trail, stepping on rocks and fallen limbs where they could. But the broken branches and occasional armored footprint in the mud led Gladiolus through the forest along the water’s current edge.

The water had receded several feet already, but it was still much higher than normal, and the land was left weakened. The trees creaked and groaned with their weight in the moist soil. Somewhere to his right he heard the clamour of one crashing to the ground after its roots could no longer hold it upright. The ground was littered with wood, glass, and other debris that washed out of the city.

Gladiolus continued to follow the trail until he came to a large tree lying across the ground. Its roots were still dripping mud as they sat exposed. But at the water’s edge, across a small clearing just beyond, he saw the unmistakable white armor of High Commander Ravus Nox Fleuret.

Anger welled up inside of him. He raised his arm to summon his blade, but something gave him pause. Ravus was kneeling over another form on the ground. It was fairly large, and covered in tattered white cloth.

“Luna…” Gladiolus breathed out the Oracle’s name in a whisper. As much as he wanted to drive his sword into Ravus’s chest, he couldn’t bring himself to interrupt. In this moment, Ravus was nothing more than Lunafreya’s brother mourning his loss.

Gladiolus watched in silence, hidden by the fallen tree, as Ravus lifted Luna’s body onto a broken door. He took time to carefully adjust her arms and legs into a peaceful pose, and secured a single sylleblossom beneath her hands. After setting several oak branches around the perimeter, Ravus paused, with his head lowered towards his sister, then pushed the bier into the water.

Gladiolus bowed his head and whispered, “May your soul return to Eos and your light shine eternal.” The last time he spoke those words had been with a roomful of people fifteen years prior as he held his own, newborn sister in his arms. Iris was born weak, and Gladiolus had made a promise to their mother keep her safe.

Despite her being under Cor’s watchful eye now, he still worried about her safety. What if daemons attacked their house at Cape Caem? What if the Empire hunted them down? Would they kill her as quickly as they killed Jared? Or would they hold her captive, as they did Luna, to be used as bait for him or Noctis?

Or, worse yet, would they take her and lure her to their side, as they had done to Ravus? Could Iris be like the cold-hearted traitor before him? Gladiolus shook the thought from his head and focused his attention on the provisional ceremony once again.

The Oracle’s funeral raft drifted beyond sight as the day turned to dusk. The former High Commander turned away from the water at last. With no searching or hesitation, his gaze settled directly on Gladiolus.

“What do you want?” Ravus demanded.

Gladiolus sucked in a breath and renewed his awareness. How long had Ravus known he was there? He stepped out from behind the tree roots and walked with his head high. “Heard you got demoted. I was worried I wouldn’t get my chance to take you down myself.”

“Have you so quickly forgotten our last encounter?” Ravus asked. He dropped his hand to his hip and drew a sword that was too small for the scabbard he wore. That he didn’t even have King Regis’s blade anymore just made Gladiolus even more mad.

“I’ve been busy,” Gladiolus shouted and summoned his own sword to hand. The glaive had been given to him after he stood against Gilgamesh. Now, Gladiolus let the power it contained mix with his own fervor and channeled it into a single, focused attack against the High Commander.

The two swords rang out as they collided between the two men.

Ravus stood unflinching before his attacker, using the strength of one arm to press his weapon forward. His face showed only a cold, detached determination in his eyes. But despite his outward confidence, Gladiolus could feel the faint give and take of the true effort Ravus needed to counter his attack.

A snarl formed across Gladiolus’s face, and he leaned into his sword. Ravus beat him the last time they were at arms. Since then, Jared Hester had died. Iris and their other friends had gone into hiding. Altissia was in ruins, with so many of its citizens lost. The Oracle was dead. And Noctis was in an unnatural sleep.

The Empire was to blame, and Ravus had been at the front of it all.

Gladiolus let his anger build like a raging fire in his chest. His sword held strong against Ravus’s blade. He slammed his foot into the mud to secure his footing.

How many more cities would fall at his command? How many more people would have to die? The Empire needed to be stopped. Ravus needed to be stopped.

And Gladiolus was going to be the one to do it.

“I won’t let you hurt anyone else!” Gladiolus yelled as he pushed forward, finally breaking the stalemate between their blades. He pressed an attack against Ravus, but each swing struck only the steel of Ravus’s sword. Every step Gladiolus took forward, the next contact made him step back. Every strike from Ravus, he blocked and answered with his own. Ravus was quick and efficient, but his sword did not have the same reach as Gladiolus’s. The two men attacked and counterattacked, advanced and retreated, back and forth around the small clearing.

“You foolishly believe you can safeguard those in your care. Protectors are destined to fail,” Ravus hissed as their fight continued. “All must one day perish, even those who are protected the most.”

“Not on my watch,” Gladiolus growled. He swung his glaive at Ravus once again, but instead of striking steel, it sliced into the High Commander’s right shoulder. Ravus let out a grunt and stumbled away from the blade. Gladiolus pursued him with another attack, and another. As each one landed its mark in the weak spots of the High Commander’s armor, Gladiolus’s anticipation grew.

He was going to stop the danger to Noctis and his friends at the source. He was going to take out Ravus Nox Fleuret once and for all. Gladiolus swung his glaive in a downward arc towards his opponent’s neck.

Ravus halted the attack with his armored left hand, gripping the blade as he stood straight once again. His detached expression gave way to an anger that made Gladiolus mumble a curse. Still holding the blade tightly, Ravus swung his sword at Gladiolus’s side, leaving a stinging cut. Before he could strike again, Gladiolus let his glaive dissipate and stepped back.

“You may have found new strength, but it cannot save all those squandering their lives for the Chosen King,” Ravus said bitterly. He flourished his sword and advanced purposefully on Gladiolus.

“It can take your ass down,” Gladiolus countered, but Ravus’s words had cut into him like their own blade. How many others could he could have saved if it had been different? His father, who had stayed with King Regis as Insomnia fell. Jared, whose life was taken just for knowing the prince’s whereabouts.

They perished in service to the King . Ignis’s voice echoed in Gladiolus’s head as Ravus closed the distance between them and attacked. Gladiolus barely had enough time to recall his sword to block the blow. Ravus persisted, forcing Gladiolus to retreat into the trees, using them for cover when he could.

“They didn’t squander anything,” Gladiolus decided aloud. He dodged behind a tree trunk already leaning heavily to one side. “Besides,” he taunted, “It’s an easy choice when the only alternative is serving the Empire.” He let his sword dissipate and pressed both hands against the bark, pushing with all his might. The tree fell easily, despite Gladiolus’s fatiguing muscles, and forced Ravus to stop his advance.

“And what of those who had no choice?” Ravus yelled from the other side of the obstacle. He slowly but assuredly stalked towards the base of the tree, using the time to recover some of his own strength. “Those who were left to die at the hands of the Imperial Army without a second thought. Those forsaken, and sacrificed, for his destiny!”

Gladiolus frowned as Ravus came around the side of the tree. Noctis had only talked about the Imperial attack on Tenebrae once, about how King Regis had carried him to safety while leaving the Nox Fleuret family behind. The mother had died, but Ravus and Luna survived. And Gladiolus knew the Empire had no reservations finishing an assignment, no matter how valuable the target may be.

“Tell me, Sworn Shield,” Ravus hissed mockingly. “If cooperating with the Empire meant saving the only family you had left, what would you have done?”

Anything , but Gladiolus clenched his teeth shut to hold back the answer he knew Ravus wanted to hear. He let out a growl instead and summoned his sword once again as he charged his foe. Ravus met the blade with his own, and the two began their attacks again.

But Gladiolus felt he was in battle with an entirely different man. Instead of precision attacks and efficient effort, Ravus was recklessly and wildly swinging his sword. It left him open to counter attacks, though he seemed to care even less when Gladiolus’s blade landed its mark. The primal nature of Ravus’s aggression made him dangerous and hard to predict.

The two fought relentlessly as dusk turned into night. In a moment where they paused, each desperately trying to gain back the energy they were expending, the light on Gladiolus’s shirt flickered on. Ravus stood across from him breathing heavily, eyes filled with rage. Gladiolus recognized that hunger, the insatiable need for action to face the world. Before him stood a man broken down by failure. Torn apart by loss. A man whose worst nightmares had come true. Ravus may have been leading the Imperial Army, but he was only doing so to protect Luna. She was gone, and he had failed, and now he had nothing left.

Gladiolus couldn’t let that happen. He needed to take out the Empire, before they could do worse to Noctis. Ravus had been leading the army, which meant he would know how to stop them.

But before Gladiolus could say a word, something heavy collided into his arm, then another into his knees. He let his sword fade to grab one of the small forms and threw it against a tree. Then he felt the slick, oily goo on his hands, and his nose filled with the stench of rotting flesh. Gladiolus yelled out a curse. He summoned his sword again and sliced into one of the daemons as more emerged from the trees. They swarmed him from all sides, rushing in too close for his swords to be effective.

With a yell, Gladiolus let his sword dissipate and ripped off a daemon clawing up his leg with his bare hands, flinging it into the darkness. The next one he grabbed and slammed his fist into it until it felt limp. Another leaped at his head, and Gladiolus backhanded it away. Before they could get close again, Gladiolus reformed his great sword and slammed the blade into the ground.

A shock ran through the mud at his feet, and the daemons were temporarily frozen in place. The tree closest to him swayed, then crashed to the ground. Behind him, he could hear another’s roots lose their grip in the soil and fall, then another. Gladiolus pulled his sword from the ground and swung it at the remaining daemons, and they too fell and dissolved into the mud.

Gladiolus spun his light to see Ravus pinned beneath a fallen tree. More of the small daemons ran towards him along the trunk, eager for a target that could not fight back. Gladiolus also ran towards him, summoning his glaive along the way. Once he got close enough, he swung his sword.

“We’re not finished yet!” he yelled, and his blade sliced through the gathered daemons.  He swung again, and again, until they all crumbled to the ground. Ravus squirmed beneath the tree trunk in attempt to free his metal arm. Gladiolus let his sword fade, then reached beneath the trunk.

With a growl that grew into a battle cry, Gladiolus slowly lifted the tree enough for Ravus to slide out from beneath it. The former high commander straightened himself, but he was favoring his right side and his sword was nowhere within sight. He looked Gladiolus squarely in the eyes, like a proud, condemned prisoner awaiting his fate.

“Finish it, then,” Ravus calmly demanded. “Let me join my sister’s fate for the good of your King’s destiny.”

Gladiolus gripped the hilt of his sword and began to gather his anger, as he had always done before. Ravus was the High Commander of the Imperial Army. Under his command, they had attacked Leviathan, and caused Noctis’s slumber. Caused Ignis’s eyes to be injured. Slaughtered so many more Altissians, as thoughtless collateral damage. The Empire was responsible for all of it. For the damage Altissia had taken. For killing Jared Hester. For Iris and Talcott having to hide away in a lighthouse. For the Oracle’s death.

The Empire was to blame.

Gladiolus let out a rush of air from his lungs in a weary sigh, letting his sword fade away. “Noct never wanted any of this,” he said as he dropped onto the trunk of a fallen tree. “Only thing he cared about was Luna’s safety.”

“Then he failed,” Ravus said. He sat down on another trunk not far away. “I lost my sister because of him.”

“All of us have lost people we care about,” Gladiolus replied. “Noct, too. It’s all been because of the Empire. The only way to stop it is for us to take them down, once and for all.”

After a long pause, Ravus asked, “And you believe the King up to the task?”

Gladiolus let out a short laugh. “He sure as hell ain’t going to let them get away with all they’ve done.” The two fell to silence, sitting among the fallen trees. Not even a month ago - hell, not even an hour ago - Gladiolus wanted nothing more than to kill Ravus for all he had done. But it turned out he was just a man, hoping for a life a peace and happiness for his sister. Gladiolus couldn’t blame him for that.

“You know,” Gladiolus broke the silence. “Your help would be pretty useful against the Empire. You should come with us.”

“No,” Ravus said bluntly, drawing Gladiolus’s gaze. “The King of Lucis needs his father’s sword. It was lost during the battle with the Hydraean. I will retrieve it and meet you in Gralea.” Gladiolus nodded his agreement to the idea.

Ravus’s mouth turned up into something resembling a smile. “Ensure he arrives in one piece, Shield. As soon as he is capable.”

“Oh, he will,” Gladiolus promised. “Even if I have to carry him there myself.”

By the time Gladiolus returned to the estate, it was nearly morning. He found Ignis helping Prompto with a King’s Knight game. More accurately, Prompto was giving a play-by-play of the screen, and Ignis was making all the choices. As soon as Gladiolus rounded the corner, Ignis turned his head towards him.

“What’s that I smell?” he asked.

“Weskham’s smoked fish,” Gladiolus responded, setting two boxes on the bedside table. “There’s some eggs and toast in there, too. And this.” Gladiolus set a 12-pack of Ebony on Ignis’s lap.

“Whoa!” Prompto cried. “Where’d you find that much Ebony? It took me forever to find two cans.”

Gladiolus shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.” He left out the part where he bribed, and then threatened, a couple of relief workers just to get it. Seeing Ignis open up a can and savor the taste of it was the important part.

“Hey Prompto,” Gladiolus said next. “You wanna run a couple laps with me? I found the warehouse where they kept all their decorations for that Chocomog festival. Unattended.” Or at least, it would be for another hour or so.

“Oh. My. Gods,” Prompto said as mouth dropped open and his eyes nearly popped out. “Do you even have to ask?! I mean, only if Iggy is okay by himself.” He anxiously looked over at their friend.

“I should like to sit with Noct for a while, if you don’t mind leading me there,” Ignis replied.

“Of course!” Prompto jumped up and was at Ignis’s side in a second. As Prompto guided him out of the room, Ignis paused at the door.

“Thank you, Gladio,” he said.

“Don’t mention it,” Gladiolus replied. “Just want things back to normal as soon as possible.” And that meant wasting no time traveling to Nifleheim, getting the sword from Ravus, and finally taking down the Empire. Just as soon as their King was awake.

#gladiolus amicitia #gladio #ravus nox fleuret #ravus #brothers #foil #prompto #ignis #weskham #one shot #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv #final fantasy xv fanfiction #final fantasy 15 fanfiction #ff15 #ff15 fanfiction #spoilers #ffxv spoilers

[peaches-of-1]

666 So Fresh: Chapter 15

< Previous | Epilogue >

Taehyung x Fem!OC x Yoongi

Zula, Tae, and Yoongi rushed to the car in the parking garage and pulled the doors shut as quickly as they could. Yongi was the one driving while Zula got shotgun. Tae happily sat in the backseat happily bouncing an the cushions. They had been spotted and were currently being pursued by foot.

Cops stood in front of the car and pulled out their guns, “Stop!”

As if. Tae said they couldn’t kill anyone, though. They’d go into Hiding at the same time.

Yoongi put the car into drive, “Buckle up--”

Tae snickered.

“Or don’t. On the count of three, we Hide. That way we can get past them without anyone getting hurt. One...two...three!” And he floored it.

The cops saw the car slowly ripple and dissolve into thin air. They started shooting where they last saw it out of fear, but it was an empty space. It gave them a chance to get ahead, but tonight would be busy. Once they were past the first checkpoint, they came out of Hiding. Still, it wasn’t long until sirens started going off behind them.

So it would be a proper car chase for them, then. Zula was nervous and thought about her parents. They had wished her luck and dad apologized...again...for not telling her and not doing more to help. Taehyung had a huge grin on his face as adrenaline ran through him. So this was what life had in store for him all along? He was so glad he went for that walk the night they met! Yoongi focused on the road, not entirely sure where they were going but planned on losing the cops on the way there. Somehow.

Damn sirens!

[10:34am]

Jungkook had woken up this Friday morning to the smell of his brother’s coffee brewing. He got up to see Namjoon already fully dressed and placing his plastic fork on top of the turned on skillet. He greeted his babt brother and then realized what he had done, yanking the fork off the skillet before it started to melt and put it beside his fruit bowl. Namjoon then sucked on his slightly singed fingertips.

“Mornin’ hyung.” His little brother chuckled.

“Got any plans today?”

He shook his head, “Probably just gaming. Might go for a run if it’s nice out later.”

Namjoon nodded, “I lied to the chief. We saw you comment on her live and he asked how you knew.”

A moment of silence stole the place of the unasked question. The ‘her’ Jungkook’s older brother was talking about was Zula. He wasn’t sure what to ask, so he stayed silent. Namjoon answered it anyways.

“Told him I must’ve left my work on the kitchen table and you saw it. He gave me a warning, but I’m still on the case.” He poured the pre-made omelette mix onto the pan.

Jungkook shifted his legs, “What’s next?”

“We keep looking. The parents claim to know nothing, but…”

“What is it?”

The older one flipped the egg and poured his brew into a to-go cup, “Zula’s father, he begged us to leave her alone. Me and Jin and H.A.D. Said she didn’t need to be bothered by men and false protectors anymore.”

“Did you say something?”

“Almost, but Jin told him to get out before they took him in too. He’s a full demon and it had everyone on edge. It just wasn’t a good situation, even though we’re the one who called him in.”

Jungkook’s eyes glittered, “What was it like? Did he smell like cinnamon? You carry scents home and I kept smelling it last night.”

Namjoon paused his motions, “Now that you mention it, yes. And he looked oddly normal. No horns or claws like the footage of his daughter. Guess he must know how to make himself appear human.”

Zula’s father was nearly six foot, normal black hair, average clothing that was only a slight more on trend than most people his age. However, his eyes were too light o belong to any regular Korean male. He wasn’t wearing contacts either as far as the officer could tell. His eyes shone for a moment before Jin quoted situational scripture and made him recoil. That was the only odd moment. Otherwise, it just seemed like a normal father pleading with cops to leave his child alone, which wasn’t a rare thing.

Jungkook’s phone went off and he looked curiously at his notification. He smiled at it after realizing what it was, and his brother raised a curious brow.

“Who’s that?” He placed his omelette on a plate and waited for it to cool as he poured rice next to it.

“A girl I’ve been talking to from school. We’ve got a project, and she thinks I’m cute. So we end up talking about things other than the project.”

Namjoon chuckled, “Moving on so fast?” He scarfed down his quick meal.

“No! Never!” the younger whined.

“You should though. I’m sure you and that girl would go great together.” He kissed his brother’s head. “Off to work!”

“Bye, hyung!”

Jungkook smiled at his phone again and replied before turning off everything he brother left running and then went to his room to start playing some video games.

[11:48am]

Taehyung found Zula at the pool on the roof. She was in a white cutout bathing suit patterned with lipstick kisses that glittered in the early sun as she lunged on a purple floating lounger. It was round and large enough to fit two people and even had its own awning for shade. She had her waterproof wireless headphones on.

He took pictures of her and wondered what she was thinking about. Probably the same as him: this was all going to end soon, but how? Everyone was on the lookout for them. They’d had a great run, got to live the high life for a bit. Lived like idols, lived better than idols even. They’d fallen in love and discovered who they really were. Not even most people on their deathbeds could say that. They had never experienced such bliss.

Tae dove in with his waterproof camera to get some closer shots. Zula smiled when she felt a small bump against her raft.

“Who is it?” She asked with he sweet voice, not opening her eyes but lifting speaker off her ear.

“It’s me~~” Tae replied, a playful tone to his husky voice. “Doin’ a candid photoshoot. You looked so relaxed and I wanna remember these days now more than ever.”

A small weak smile crossed her lips, “Fake it ‘til you make it.” Zula replied. “I’m stressed as hell.”

He kissed her and laid down next to her, taking a few seflies since the lighting was fantastic. As her boyfriend, he did what he could to comfort her even though he was feeling the same way. At least he had been right about her thoughts. Had they really grown so close that they could basically read each other’s minds?

Yoongi called them in for brunch and this time he wore Tae’s mother’s apron as he looked at his two lovers in the water. He couldn’t help but smile as their boyfriend placed his camera on the raft and then jumped into the pool to push their girlfriend to the edge while making motorboat sounds. How many decades did he wall his heart just for these to crash in like they literally did? He kissed both their cheeks when they got into the dining room.

It was a large rectangular table they had planned to see filled with other like them. Friends they had made at the club maybe. Chandeliers hung above the dark wood as they all sat at one end together eating a breakfast fit for a queen and her kinds.

“You sanitized the table, right?” Zula asked, knowing that he last thing eaten on the wooden surface had not been food.

Yoongi nodded, “Yes. Twice.”

“Good.” She said, a confident smirk in her voice.

Tae just chuckled and the others smiled as they ate a bagel filled breakfast. They’d need their energy since they’d be spending however many days partying before running. Tae had asked why they weren’t just sneaking out of the city with the rest of the cash--original plus the money made from selling cars--instead of just trying to outrun the cops.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He replied. “Also, I want to live this life a bit longer in once place since I usually don’t get to experience...stability that much.”

A small blush found home in his cheeks after being so candid. He had been more honest about himself ever since showing his true form. These were people that he loved, and they deserved to know.

“So, what are we wearing tonight? We decided colors while at Hoseok’s, so?” He decided to change the subject to keep himself from getting any more shy.

They looked at Zula who stopped mid-chew, “Why me?”

Tae answered, “You’re the only one of us who actually lived as a human and interacted with them on a regular basis. You know more about human style than us.”

His past had no affect on him anymore, so he smiled. They weren’t wrong.

“Mesh.” She replied. “We’re wearing mesh. Like where you can see skin though it, not just it’s the fabric type but it’s solid.”

The boys smiled. Their queen had spoken, and they’d start getting ready at sunset.

[2:03pm]

After “breakfast”, they went to do some other preparations. Yoongi used their closed circuit wifi to search about what the police knew about the trio. Zula did an hourlong livestream with Taehyung as they decided what to wear that night, and she painted her nails red and black. Tae kissed her cheek when she showed them off to him. He said they were perfect in front of the multiple cameras that were set up. Zula beamed and then answered questions while her nails dried. Taehyung looked to see what mesh pieces he had in his wardrobe.

“Where are you from? I was born in America and moved here when I was 12. Where are you right now? Home. It’s where the heart is, so I’m home.”

Tae smiled from the closet having heard her say that. Her nails were finally dry, so she said she was gonna go outside and practice. Fans asked if they could watch, but she winked and turned off her cams instead. Tae said he would end the live after he chose his outfit.

Zula made sure all outside cams were turned off and covered. She didn’t want anyone to see her failure and also couldn’t expose demons. As her body took on its familiar black and red form, she noticed how she didn’t cry anymore. The trembling also decreased exponentially as he harnessed her inner Lust.

Everything was almost perfect, except her wings. Why were they not exploding from her back in any form? Yoongi said they might look like fins because of her scales, but the claws that resided on her hands and feet were quite large. Taehyung guessed feathers. Yoongi had said that only special full blooded demons and fallen angels got feathered wings.

This attempt to find out had to work. She was just holding back her loved ones if not. Zula thought of all her past sexual experiences, good and bad. A lot was bad and forced. They dared to kiss her and claim the attraction was mutual…She remembered the too glitzy nails…Her perfume mixed with sweat and her husband’s cologne. One of the good ones were a couple that were rather sweet. They wanted to try a third and neither could keep their eyes off of you. It was her first time out drinking where she hadn’t been drugged against her consent.

Consent.

Her demon side barely knew the word, but wouldn’t attack someone she couldn’t arouse. It just wasn’t fun that way.

Zula had rarely experienced giving her consent and so she tried her best to get the other side to understand it too. It wasn’t until the girl openly accepted Lust that the demon understood. Consent was key, the only thing that would make the relationship work.

Still, no wings, though.

A few less severe incidents played in Zula’s mind as they played with a sphere of air like she had seen on TV. The times she got away...if she had had this power sooner, then maybe Zula would’ve gotten away more. The time she did...with Jungkook.

A tingle?

She had wanted to kill him and was gonna kill him if it weren’t for Yoongi. Zula didn’t want him to die since he was sincere and didn’t mean to bring any harm to her or her feelings. But it’s what would’ve happened. Jungkook was a good dude. She trusted him a little since she had been wrong about his intentions when he warned her about the police. He was just trying to help.

Another tingle?

That day to his. Only a few short months. Who knew how it was going to end?

A sweet husky voice called out her name, “Zula-ssi~~~”

She returned to her human form and smiled as she opened her eyes to see his tanned skin glisten in the indirect sunlight. He was closer than she expected him to be.

“No luck still?”

She shook her head, and her curled danced with the motion. “Nope. How long did you watch?”

Tae was honest, “A while...I’m scared, Zula.”

“I’ll get my wings to work, so don’--”

“Not that…” He looked down. “Yoongi’s so calm about this, so sure we’ll get out ok because he’s done this before. He’s full demon! We’re not! We haven’t--I’m scare because, what if he’s wrong? I don’t wanna leave this if we aren’t gonna end up happy again.”

Zula held his hands and looked at him kindly, “Me too. I’m scared too, but we have each other. As long as we have that, I gotta believe we’ll be ok no matter what. I’ll be happy enough if I’m with you.”

Taehyung had only sued his power to melt locks and as a party trick, but never fully. He was in control of the small flames and his demon form. Anything in the middle, not that good at handling yet. Sort of like his flashbacks, it was a process.

Yoongi arrived, telling the two beauties that he knew how the cops were stationed and how to get around them. He also explained to his lovers how and what the cops knew about their pasts. They really needed to practice Hiding.

[4:20pm]

Blue and purple flames burst in front of Namjoon’s face, causing him to jump back with quickness.

“Whoa!” He fell on his butt. “Was that supposed to happen?”

The pastor nodded, “Sort of, but it would only be those colors if an Immortal is among us.”

“Immortal?”

“Good or bad?” Ren asked.

Pastor Jean answered, “Good. It was consistent with the coloring, and it had purple in it. If the colors had kept changing or done more jumping or lacked purple, then we’d be faced with a demon.” He smiled. “I’d say someone’s guardian angel has come to check on them.”

The men of justice were currently learning the skills their H.A.D members possessed. There was a great deal of salt involved. Herbs and incense. IT looked more like witchcraft than demon hunting tools.

“If it works, it works.” The blonde member replied. They hadn’t given their name, and so everyone called them Scythe.

“You say that, but don’t underestimate tools of subtlety.” Priestess Iris took a knife out of her waistband. “If you’re in a pinch, this knife is made from Holy water, not just doused in it.” She held it out to Namjoon who accepted it.

She nodded and mumbled to herself about maybe making some holy bullets for the two cops in the near future. The young twins Shingi and Shinkook showed off their toys as well. Drones that could light and shoot incense at a target, secret compartments in the drone and Shingi’s wheelchair to help stun a demon. The wheelchair had a Demon Defense Shield as well.

After the two cops were pretty good at understanding their companions’ weapons and the warnings that went along with them, the team was bored. They yearned to do more than simply teach and wait. They wanted action.

“You’re such an angel, aren’t you, Officer Seokjin?” Candelaria commented. “Just a heavenly young man.”

Jin responded, “Please stop.”

She continued, “Don’t you all think Seokjin is just an angelic person to be around?”

“She’s right, hyung. You’re a really good dude. I don’t get why that bothers you so much. Usually, you’d agree.”

“Yeah, but it’s just the way she says it.”

Namjoon wasn’t sure what to say, so he just shrugged. The old Latina told him not to worry about it since she was just being a playful old woman. Jin couldn’t believe that his partner saw him as similar to her.

Jin agreed with her still, “Yes, just ignore her.”

Then the Priestess started to help Namjoon with the knife she gifted him. He asked why she didn’t give one to his partner. Iris’s eyes glided over the broad-shouldered cop and a look of comfort and slight distrust came over her face coupled with a small smirk. All eyes were on them as they waited for her reply.

“He don’t need it.” Her accent showing strongly as she spoke English. “He knows how to defend himself.”

“It is in his blood.” The old lady added.

Shingi agreed, “Our weapons would only insult him. Show us?”

Candelaria piped up, “To comfort your worried partner. It doesn’t have to be much. Scythe? Alpha 3.”

They nodded and stood, grabbing a rod from behind their back and starting to stand, but Jin held up his hand to stop them.

“No need for violence. Give me a second.” He closed his eyes and said a few quick words under his breath. After a nod, he looked at those surrounding him. “If you have any eye protection, I suggest you use them now.”

Twins, Ren, Pastor Jean, and Scythe all put on physical objects to shield their eyes. The priestess cast a spell or something on herself and the elderly woman didn’t move at all. She was still breathing, though. Jin said it was up to her and began to quote the Bible. He spoke of a God Given power as light not of this realm came from his palms and engulfed all the onlookers in its grace. It was foreign and warm, like it should singe the skin, but it did not.

Once recalled, the light returned into a soft light under Jin’s palms and everyone was in a daze with amused smiles on their faces. They had never seen or felt such power before. The twins and the Pastor even wept and didn’t move to wipe the tears from their eyes.

“Well, that just gave me warm fuzzies. Nice goin’ Seokjin.” She gave him a kind but cocky smile. The Angel’s power had no real effect on her.

“Thank you.” He checked on Namjoon who released a breath. “That was beautiful, Jin. How did you?”

“It’s why I’m so interested in Demons. My power is specially honed to send them to Hell where they belong. That’s all I’m going to say about it. Please do not ask me more.”

Namjoon nodded, “It’s cool, though.”

“It’s very cool. Of course it is! I did it!” He grabbed at his heart, “I mean, thank you.”

As night started to arrive, they got a call from the Captain. Zula was live again today. One of the twins used a toy to display it in front of them.

[5:45pm]

“Hiding is basically you not wanting to be seen. You have the need to be invisible. Zula, you went into Hiding when you killed that guy and didn’t want anyone to see you covered in blood. So this is similar. If we all do it at the same time, we can Hide our car and get past the Stationed Cops.”

Yoongi explained while the other two were practicing. Zula got the hang of it first. She had probably used it several times without knowing, so it was easy for her. Taehyung was usually by himself, so he had no real reason to use it any previous time. Still, it didn’t take him too long to travel to the alternate plane. It felt like an empty space. No one noticed you and you didn’t notice them unless the other was an Angel or a Demon or a demi of either.

Zula was surprised, “Demi-Angels exist?”

“Yep. It’s usually the cause of an immaculate conception. Like Jes--Jes...” He couldn’t say the name. “The Big Guy’s kid.”

“Jesus?” Taehyung answered.

Yoongi nodded and rolled his eyes, “That one.”

After warming up their powers and one last wing check from Zula that produced nothing new, it was time to get dressed.

[7:53pm]

Taehyung had decided that an olive green mesh tank top would be best to go with their theme along with olive green pants and avocado patterned green socks. A forest green type leather jacket would go over the top if he felt too exposed, and a pair of spiky green slides completed the look for what might be their last night of freedom.

Zula’s color for the night was red since it was what her true form looked like. She wore a black bra under a red mesh crop top that was tight and had a built in a corset of sorts. The skirt she wore had two very high slits as the skirt itself went to her ankles. A red diamond and gold choker sat around her neck and wedges for easier running. She liked the height it gave her.

Yoongi let his horns grow out for the night as he wore a pair of black fishnets under black ripped jeans. Black combat boots and a hoodie is what he tried to get past Zula with. She wasn’t having it.

“What do you think you’re wearing? Where is mesh? Do you see any mesh, TaeTae?”

“Nope, none that I can see, ZuZu.”

The blonde stick out his leg to show the fishnets peeking through. In return, he got a headshake of disapproval from both his partners. Yoongi was told to take his hoodie off and give it to Tae who took a pair of scissors to the sides while Zula dove into the black section of his closet, which was large. She came out with a mesh tank top and put it onto him. Taehyung handed her the now sleeveless hoodie and threw away the sleeves.

She waited until he had both items on that she was finally content with his outfit, “Much better.”

Yoongi covered his chest, “If I’m gonna wear this, the two of you have to show your horns. It should be easy doing just that.”

Taehyung said, “Sure. It’s no biggie.” and the wavy points looked sort of like sad puppy ears as they protruded from either side of his head.

Zula followed suit. They were going to a Halfway bar, so the horns would be seen as normal or as props to any humans that had found their way there for the night.

The three then climbed into the car after putting on a few last accessories and makeup. They wouldn’t be taking a portal this time since it was just a normal human club they were going to. It was still a magical place depending on who you asked. It was a club that Zula knew well, but apparently Yoongi knew better.

The bouncer smiled at Zula, “Long time no see!” He scowled at the sight of the blonde, “You again. Zula, you know this clown?”

“We’re a bit more similar than we know.”

He grinned again, “You finally found out what you were, huh?”

She scoffed, “You knew?”

“Yeah. Why do you think I always let you in? Your natural aura always brought in the best crowd. Also, I know my own kind pretty well.” A gold flash explained everything. Her dad asked for his protection over his little girl.

Taehyung butt in, “As beautiful as you two are, can we go inside? I feel too exposed.”

The bouncer nodded, “Everything ok? I saw you--”

“Dad knows. We’re having fun until we’re caught.”

“Sounds like you,” He chuckled. “Head on in.” He opened the velvet rope and let the three in, making sure to rough up Yoongi beforehand. “If anything happens to you, the only thing you’ll ever want is my hand off of your throat.”

“Kinky. I’ll see you around.”

This place was called the Rogue Rathskeller. The name alone should’ve tipped Zula off that this wasn’t a bar just for humans. It seemed like this was a place where Demis of all sorts as well as Full Bloods could intermingle with humans that were none the wiser. This was a safe neutral place where the tricks weren’t all blamed on the alcohol.

Yoongi leaned into Zula’s ear, “Hobi owns this place too.”

“Really?”

He nods and shows her the symbol that had been in Hoseok’s bar in the Demon realm and in his clothing store. Anything to make money.

A random girl with pink hair and shaved sides approached the trio and pulled Zula into a kiss before being pulled away by a different girl with glittering wings. She apologized and took her friend away. “Sorry. She drank something she wasn’t supposed to.”

The song changed as they laughed. Tae gasped and started pulling on Zula’s arm and asked for a dance. This was one of the songs she had sung in the car their first day together and Taehyung had connected it to her throughout their whole relationship. He really wanted to dance with her to it.

I pray for the wicked on the weekend Mama, can I get another amen? Oh oh oh oh oh Oh, it's Saturday night, yeah Swear to God, I ain't ever gonna repent Mama, can I get another amen? Oh oh oh oh oh Oh, it's Saturday night, yeah

He and Zula were jamming out and headbanging while he danced in front her. Yoongi had his hands on her waist and swayed in time with her hips. He kissed her cheek and said that he was gonna get drinks. The two kept eyes out for anyone suspicious but soon just decided to hold each other with her hands on his shoulders.

Tae really tried to hit that high note, but his voice cracked making both of them laugh to bits. When Yoongi came back, he had someone with him.

“Guess who I met at the bar.”

“Jimin!” Taehyung smiled at the sight of the shorter raven haired man.

It was Jimin, Demi Pride Demon from Hobi’s other establishment.

“I heard you’re on the run and this is your last hoorah!” He called over the music.

“Yeah, you gonna join us?” Zula asked.

He shrugged, “Why the hell not?” And gave a wink. Jimin wedged his body between her’s and Taehyung’s with his back towards the male.

He gave a smile to the taller man who returned it and grabbed his drink from Yoongi. The four of them drank and gyrated with each other for about five songs, simply catching up and filling him in on their plan. It wasn’t long before Jimin kissed each of them on the lips and said he was getting hungry.

“Don’t get caught. I wanna do this again.” Were his last words before he became one with the other party goers.

No promises is what she wanted to reply. Yoongi said he wanted to follow Jimin for a bit, and so his two intoxicated lovebirds were left alone. Not before he told them about the secret rooms in the back.

He winked at them, “See you there.”

Zula didn’t ever go back there, but the bouncer from before had only saved her from going there when some asshole demon or human tried to spike her drink or gave her an aphrodisiac filled beverage. This time, it was her choice with someone she knew, someone she loved, someone she wanted to see every inch of her. She was just so giddy at how her life had turned around so quickly.

Also, alcohol.

Taehyung spun her into him and whispered into her ear, “Let’s go, shall we?”

Zula giggled and pulled Taehyung to a tall bouncer with a name tag that said Wooseok. She looked at him and tilted her head.

“We’re friends of Hobi. You think you could let us trough for free?”

“A discount, maybe.” Wooseok said, eyeing them up and down.

Sex.

The way he licked her lips would’ve disgusted her if she wasn’t so sure of herself. She pouted as she did while trying to trick humans and charming him, but he just smirked and shook his head. It looked like he was about to deny them when he heard something in his earpiece. Wooseok then nodded and opened the curtain.

“You really are his friends. Go on in. My apologies.”

She-demon smiled, and the two went in. They were all smiles as they were led to a room by a light up path on the floor. The door opened and it was a hella nice room. Taehyung and Zula looked at each other and kissed before she pushed him into a wicker chair. It was a beautiful type of haze as she took off her top, and he decided to watch while eating one of the french fries that had appeared into the room. It was a McDonald’s meal with Hobi’s symbol plus a smiley face.

Zula placed her top on his face and slipped out of her skirt. Taehyung took it off with a smile on his face and tossed it on the floor. She placed a french fry in her mouth and the two ate either end until they were kissing and then pulled away laughing.

“This is so gross oh my...goodness.” Taehyung said, not being able to say His name in here. He didn’t mind.

The two finished the food in their mouths and went at it again. It was still perfect since it was the two of them. Zula helped to slip Taehyung’s shirt off and then pulled his pants off while on her knees. He hadn’t worn any boxers today. To be fair, the only undies she had on were the black bra since she had been surrounded by humans.

Her tongue came out and it was forked at the end. It wasn’t a human tongue, that was for sure, but both of them just saw more fun in it. Zula giggled and Taehyung wanted to kiss her again with her new tongue being shoved down his throat. He let out a moan and his eyes had gone dark, sated with the feeling. His hips bucked slightly.

“I can’t take anymore foreplay. Please, Zula.” His voice was husky with complete need.

She took him into her mouth and he couldn’t stand up. The feeling forced him back into the chair as his arms flexed and his hands gripped the arms of it. He knew he could trust her and so he let his guard down completely. His eyes rolled to the back of his head in bliss.

Zula took her mouth off, “Don’t cum until I say.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He laughed.

[9:01pm]

Yoongi went to catch up with Jimin. It was no coincidence that he was here. There were hardly things like that in the world of magic.

“Who are you?” He demanded, turning him around.

“Her father told me to keep an eye on her. Not the one who raised her. Zula’s actual father.” Jimin replied.

The blonde was confused while the black haired Pride Demi just smiled. It was obvious that there was still so much more being hid away from Zula than she knew. What was it? Who was her actual father then if he had non-Lusties under his command?

Jimin laughed, “Don’t worry about it. He just wants to make sure she stays alive because she has a bigger role to fill than you ever will. I’m sure you’ll know by her wings once you see them, Suga.”

He surged forward to grab the demon, “How do you know my name?”

The black haired man slipped out of his grasp, “Looks like me and her father aren’t the only ones keeping secrets from little Zuzu, huh? Anyways, I have to get going. I really must feed or I’ll wither away to nothing. Have a nice night, and seriously. Don’t get caught.”

His body turned into fog.

“Oh, and also a hint to help get her wings out. Don’t make her work so hard when you to fuck next time.”

Jimin disappeared in purple and gray smoke. Yoongi wasn’t sure if that’s all that his words were, smoke, but he knew he needed to go find them.

[9:15pm]

“Oh Zula! Please!” Taehyung cried out.

He was trying to hold on, but she was just so good at what she did. It was in her blood. She gave him a warning flash of her eyes saying if he couldn’t do it on his own, she’s make sure he could with her own power. Basically, she’d make him like Yoongi, her little fuckdoll. Zula usually was in charge to a higher degree than the boys when they screwed like rabbits.

Lust made sex her domain, so they let her. Lust knew how to please the two men and was all too happy to do it. It meant more thinking and being aware of how far she was going to cross their limits, but she enjoyed it. Maybe one night they’d treat her as their horny little pet. Lust would be all too happy to try something new.

Speaking of which, she felt cold hands grope her ass. She wiggled her ass with a smile on her face. Taehyung noticed and saw Yoongi behind Zula and watched her shiver.

“So wet, already, aren’t you?”

Lusty Zula was ready to snap at him when he shushed her with a rough thrust of his fingers inside of her. It caught her off guard.

“You always work so hard for us, so tonight, we’re gonna switch things up a bit. Understand, princess?”

The pet name pulled something out of Lust that she hadn’t felt in a long time. She nodded and tried to be a bit more submissive. He gave her rules, to let them know if they were going too far or if she didn’t like something. They knew that Lust could take anything having to do with sex and attraction, but still. The fact that he was still being caring really helped to make her want to be submissive.

Inside, Zula felt more in tune with her demon form. She’d let herself go, completely. Yoongi kissed feather light kisses along her spine and thrust himself inside of her. Lust’s arousal was its own aphrodisiac. In all of her wet spots, especially now, contact with it would get her partner horny.

“Princess? Show Yoongi your new feature.”

Zula nodded and looked at her other partner, revealing her forked tongue. Yoongi’s heart skipped a beat. He kissed her deeply and began to move his hips. He felt her flavor change. Good thing he was actually feeling dominant tonight. Although he had been told to fuck her this way, Yoongi was pretty sure this is how it would have gone anyways. Jimin’s words just gave him the extra boost he needed to make it happen.

Taehyung pulled her head away from Yoongi’s with a grumpy look on his face and got her back to sucking him off. Yoongi chuckled and grabbed her boobs as he fucked her. She started to relax under their works. Tae had Zula’s waves in his fist and held her still as his hips moved with utter abandon.

“Your rules from before don’t apply since we’re in charge this time, huh? I’m gonna cum as much as I like, anywhere I want, Princess.” Taehyung said.

Zula loved the sound of that and shivered in anticipation. Her eyes were getting blurry as she began to see things through Lust’s eyes. Even she was not as rough coming through as usual. She was curious as to what the boys had planned or what they would do since this was very not planned. Taehyung nuzzled her ear and sucked on her shoulder blade. Yoongi joined him and sucked on the other. They were going to cover Zula in hickeys.

They switched, placing Zula with her back on the bed in the room. When the blonde dominated her mouth, Lust wanted to beg for more. The two men faced each other and Yoongi placed Taehyung’s hands around her throat. Her eyes gave the ok.

Tae needed to learn a bit more control, and so he was scared that he would hurt her if he squeezed too much.

“I can’t. I...I don’t wanna hurt her.”

Yoongi kissed his head, “I’m right here. You’re not alone anymore, remember? I can see her face and will tell you if you go too far.”

And so began to choke Lusty Zula who couldn’t help but smile. Yoongi warned her to watch the teeth, but she was still so happy. She had never ever felt safe while getting treated like this before. Usually, she’d be terrified of them going too far, but Zula was in love with these guys who loved her back. Deeply. Passionately. In every sense.

She met Yoongi’s dark eyes with stars in her own. Taehyung then leaned over to Yoongi and whispered something in his ear. The two men went harder and deeper. Lusty Zula was about to climax when it all stopped. She gave a needy whine that surprised everyone and made the two boys chuckle. Taehyung kissed her.

“Don’t worry. We’ll let you cum once we’re done. Enchant yourself to hold off until then, ok, Princess?”

Yoongi added from the toy closet as he pulled out a toy with ridges, “You will hold on until we say so, won’t you, Princess?” There was no question about it when he had that tone of voice that made her shiver again.

“Of course.” Zula’s voice sounded so small compared to the booming dominatrix she was used to being for them.

She closed her eyes and saw the two halves of her make a promise. She wouldn’t cum until she was allowed to. Her eyes glowed a bit once they opened. Taehyung had her back pressed against Yoongi’s chest as a lubed up toy was shoved inside her. It was two different vibrating bullets that weren’t yet turned on. Taehyung slid in, making Zula stretch a bit. Then Yoongi moved to let his thick cock join in the fun.

“W-wait, w-what--” Zula’s heart was going so fast, and she was out of breath.

Yoongi lowered his voice next to her ear, “I know you can take it, Princess. Do you wanna try, or is this enough?”

She bit her lip, and her true thoughts came out, “More.” It sounded so desperate.

It got her a kiss on the shoulder, “Good princess.”

Zula clawned into Tae’s shoulders as their other partner slid in. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was scary how good it felt. She screamed when the toys came on and they started fucking her like they never had before. Taehyung giggled as she started to drool and kissed her. Everything was wet since their bodies were covered in sweat and precum. The smell aroused Lust even more. Yoongi went to work leaving more hickies on her dark tan skin.

Taehyung got curious and kissed her horns. The reaction was much more than he anticipated with Zula tightening around them and whimpering.

“S-Sensitive, don’t stop.”

The mulleted boy started to rub and finger them. She had forgotten how to speak. The only language she knew was moans and screaming the names of her boyfriends as they bounced in and out of her. A few bites here and there for proper claiming and they even turned her around to face Yoongi when Tae could feel her scratches just getting deeper on his back. The blonde loved it, though.

When they could take no more, Yoongi slipped out of her and got in front of her face, rubbing himself with one hand and grabbing a horn with the other. He released all over her face with a tongue in his cheek, suddenly remembering that this might help her get her wings. Tae released inside of Zula. Looks of ecstasy on all of their faces. Zula collapsed onto the bed. Yoongi sat in a chair. Tae slid out and slumped against the bed frame.

Heavy breathing echoed in the room. More McDonald’s meals appeared, and the three ate and drank to rehydrate themselves. It was cuddles and aftercare as they returned to their regular selves. Then it was time to continue the party.  All had to redo their makeup before returning onto the scene which made their mood even better.

Their bubble was popped when the dance floor suddenly parted and someone yelled, “That’s them!” It was a blonde and tall Korean woman in a cop uniform.

The three held hands and went into Hiding as they said various curse words under their breaths and noticed the place was now crawling with police. Who had ratted them out? Probably some human who didn’t know there were demons here that were far more dangerous than them. The trio ran to the alleyway where more cops were.

Even though the door opening and closing would look like it was just the wind, one of the broad shouldered ones pointed.

“It’s them! They’re Hiding!”

“Fuck you! Guys, run, he’s got Sight!” Yoongi said, holding their hands and running with them. “Go for the car.”

While running, Taehyung asked, “So he’s not human?”

“No. Well, I don’t know. I’m not getting human vibes from him, but that just might be residue from whatever gave him Sight. Some humans do have it, though. Like that chick who kissed Zula earlier.”

“Left!” Zula called out and they rounded the corner.

They all got in the car while out of hiding since they were being followed anyways. Being half demon made them faster, so there was no one on their tails as they all climbed into their car. The money was in the back seat for Tae to grab if they needed to get out and run again.

“You sure you wanna run in heels.” Tae asked.

“They’re wedges. I’ll be fine. Besides, anything with less height, and I’ll trip over my skirt. I’m not about to be on national TV with my pussy out.”

“FREEZE!” Two brown haired cops pulled their guns out.

Yoongi put the car into drive, “Buckle up--”

Tae chuckled at the suggestion.

“Or don’t. On three, we Hide. That way we can get past them without anyone getting hurt as Zula requested. One...two...three!” And he floored it.

The cops saw the car slowly ripple and dissolve into thin air. They started shooting where they last saw it out of fear, but it was an empty space. It gave them a chance to get ahead, but tonight would be busy. Once they were past the first checkpoint, they came out of Hiding. Still, it wasn’t long until sirens started going off behind them.

Yoongi checked the rearview mirror. At least five. There would be a helicopter before long.

“Where are we headed?” Tae asked.

“Don’t know! Lemme think!”

Tae scratched the mullet, “You’ve done this before, right?”

He was silent.

“Right?” Zula added.

“Not with other people who lived.” Yoongi replied, remembering the last time he had to run from the cops about 30 years ago when he was part of a team of Phantom Thieves who stole priceless art.

The two passengers looked at eachother. Tae had nothing to worry about for the most part since he was an immortal, but they weren’t sure about Zula. Yoongi was only immortal with living, but could die by injury. Especially since they had also partnered with Demon Hunters of all sorts to take them out.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” Zula screamed. “The last time you did this they died?”

“Well, yeah, they were too cocky. Stop yelling, and let’s work this out together. Arguing will only make it harder to get away.”

“Ok, whatever. How did you get away last time?”

Yoongi replied, “We--”

“Come get us, fuckers!” Taehyung yelled out the window. “Whoooooo!!!”

Zula put on her glasses to hide her face a bit. Yoongi saw her nerves and kissed her hand as he drove past another set of cops, silently reassuring her that all three of them would get out of there alive.

“We need a cliff. We’re only gonna get away if we can lose the chopper and fly away.”

“But I can’t fly yet!”

Yoongi held her hand tightly, “If it doesn’t work this time, Tae and I will have to carry you until we get farther away. We’re not leaving you behind.”

Such a loving and touching moment of complete seriousness played out in the front seat while Taehyung took his pants off and mooned the policemen shooting at them.The car swerved a bit, making him sit down.

Cliff. Cliff. Cliff.

“Home! Our warehouse. We can yeet ourselves off the top.” Zula said.

Yoongi nodded, “That’ll work.”

He took a sharp turn and they were headed to see their home one last time. Even in the dark, they recognized that they has passed by Taehyung’s old place. He saw his dad had come to visit and watching TV. He pressed his face to the glass and was gonna scream but knew there would be nothing for them to do. He’d understand.

“Thank you for trying, dad.”

Then they saw their new home in the distance. They were going to make it.

“You got quiet.” Zula said and turned to look at Tae.

“My dad came to visit. I wasn’t there.”

She held his hand, “I’m sure he’ll know why. You started living your life with two people you love very much and who love you too.”

What he didn’t know is that she had left a letter to his father in the Ram. Tae had left his own in a place the other two didn’t know about.

Taehyung’s letter read:

Hey, Dad. I don’t know if I’ll be home when you read this, but I’m happy now. You told me to embrace who I was. I did. You were kind of wrong. You never told me how to embrace myself so it ended up eating away at me for years. With every attempt, another part of me was taken away. I’ve found myself again thanks to two people I love dearly. I’m going to become a better person and start living for them, no for myself because I want to be there for them throughout everything. Although I have never physically died, I’ve been dead on the inside for such a long time, Dad.

If you ever have another kid like me, guide them better than you did with me. Help them learn how to embrace whatever skills they have. Don’t let them get lost like I was. I still love you, but you didn’t do your best as a father. Take care of yourself. I’ll see you someday, I hope.

Your son, Taehyung.

His dad read Zula’s in the Ram. It had been in the glove compartment:

You broke a good son by leaving him to rot. His mind was his own cage and you just let it happen to him, and to your wife. They were terrified of you. They locked themselves away to please you, but I bet they never did. His boyfriend and I can’t fix him. All we can do is love him as much as we can. I’m sure you loved him, but you could’ve showed it more. Forgive me for being so forward. I had my parents’ support and protection, and I was still hurt so many times. Violated since I’m a Demi as well, Lust if you must know. I can’t even imagine still being here if I had to go through it alone. ~Zula

Tae’s dad smiled knowing his song was happier now.

[12:53am]

At the mountain that led up to the warehouse, it was an unfamiliar drive to the policemen. Jin and Namjoon were in the closest car that the suspect known as Taehyung was taunting. Namjoon heard his partner mumble about how disrespectful they were. It was easier once they got into a garage like area that led upwards. All three of them were in there.

Once at the roof, they jumped out with the a duffle bag and started teased the cops who had gotten out of their own vehicles.

Namjoon and Jin told them not to shoot. A small glow surrounded Jin, but it might have just been the adrenaline. All eyes were on Officer Seokjin and the H.A.D team that surrounded them. They were cornered. They would have to come in, hopefully no one would get hurt to the point where death would be their only option.

Namjoon covered his ears, “Why were they screaming so loudly?” It seemed to be without cause, just because they could.

“That’s what cornered beasts do.” Jin replied.

Zula looked right at him and pointed. They had only met once before when he was patrolling one of the school sponsored parties that was also a fundraiser. Dunk tank. She was the first person to get him wet. The sweet smell from then tickled his memory. Cinnamon here and there but vanilla was stronger.

Jungkook had followed the hype on his bike. No one had noticed him trailing them all day. He hid it in the bushes and watched from a shadowy nook. He was on the roof and was terrified as the three of them climbed on the ledge of the roof.

They all nodded at each other. Zula seemed scared. Jungkook hated that look on her face. She smiled at them, though and kissed them each. Then they jumped backwards.

“ZULAAAAA!!” Jungkook screamed and came from his spot to try to save them.

No one could move fast enough to stop him or was strong enough to hold him back, so the boy was able to look down and see a beautiful blue belong to wings of flame light up the night sky. Another pair of wings were made of skin. Like a dragon’s wings would be. They were actually demons.

Zula didn’t have any. Namjoon pulled Jungkook back as he called her name again.

“What are you doing here?” the older brother asked.

“Open fire!” Jin ordered.

“I came to see. I thought you said she wouldn’t get hurt!”

Namjoon looked sad, “They ran and turned it into a chase. There is nothing I could do.” his words were full of regret.

A high pitched scream brought their attention away from each other. Zula had been shot and was falling to her death. Yoongi wouldn’t get to her in time and Tae’s arms were full. Jungkook ran to save her before he knew what he was doing.

The wings finally appeared. Feathered appendages unfurled in a fabulous display. They came out of the shoulder blades and were a pristine white. supported Jungkook as he streamlined to save Zula.

“Don’t shoot! That’s my brother!”

Even Jin was in awe. The bright reveal stunned everyone. Candelaria nudged Namjoon and looked up at the taller man with a smile on her face. A peppermint in her hand.

“I think you should eat yours now too.”

Namjoon did as told.  He ended up catching her, but he had lost his balance in the air since the impact sent him spinning. Yoongi and Tae weren’t sure what to do but tried to get to the ever falling Zula and Jungkook.

They’d have to correct soon or they’d both die. She hid her face in his chest, not sure what was happening but that she was still falling. A tingle familiar to her caused Zula’s whole body seize up until long black feathers exploded out of her back. The world stopped. They were soon both upright in the air. The two other men stopped as the new pair of wings helped to regulate the pair.

Zula looked up at who had caught her, “Jungkook?” She looked behind him. “Feathers.” She pushed herself away from him as her wings flapped on their own. Noticing her own, “Also feathers.”

Jungkook wasn’t sure what was going on, “Zula. What is this? I don’t understand what’s going on. Why the fuck do I have wings? Are you actually a demon?”

“You’re an angel, Jungkook. I’m half demon.” She spared a glance at her partners. “I have to go.”

He wasn’t letting her go, “If you come back, my brother will do his best to make sure you’re safe. I can help protect you--”

“I don’t need your protection!” Zula pulled her hands away. “Jungkook, listen. I can’t stay. There are Demon Hunters down there ready to kill me and my boyfriends the moment we give up. I was never meant for the life I thought I would have, one where we might have become something.”

“You’ll be running forever.” Jungkook looked like he was going to cry.

A fireball knocked down and melted a Demon Hunting Drone. It had come from Taehyung’s own hands. It was targeting her, but they deserved this chance to say goodbye.

Zula nodded, “I know. I’ll be running and hiding, but I won’t be alone. I’m gonna be ok, Kookie. Maybe in another world we could’ve turned out to be something great, but we belong to two completely different sides.”

“Zula, I love you.” He felt like his heart was breaking.

“I know that too.”

Jin was getting impatient and let his own wings be seen. They weren’t as magnificent as Jungkook’s since the kid was an archangel and the reason why everyone had been feeling a little bit more positive these last few days. His birth was coming, but no one knew it would happen like this. The contrast of black and white wings still mesmerized the humans.

They gasped when Jin showed his. The Angel Officer stood on the ledge and jumped as well, flying to do something about the situation so it would end. He would capture her if he could.

Zula hugged her college classmate, “This really hurts to do--like really, my arms feel like they’re being stabbed--but I just want to let you know that I really do forgive you and I’m sorry.”

Jungkook hugged her back even though it burned his skin, “Me too. Now go catch up. I’m powerful than Mr. Kim, so I’m sure he’ll listen to me.”

She nodded and flew to catch up, her arm covered in blood from being shot. At least she had her wings now. A harpie. That’s basically what she was in this form. She winced in pain as she met up and flew off with her boyfriends. Kookie watched and Jin finally caught up to them.

“I’ll get them for you, sir. I just--”

“Leave them.”

Jin was taken aback, “I understand you’re new at this and you have a prior relationship with the girl, but she’s a demon.”

“A Demi-demon who hasn’t hurt anyone! She was defending herself! I know you’re all high and mighty, but she’s got a good heart.I won’t have you hurting her any more.”

The righteous rage in his eyes made Jin back up and lower his head at the younger angel with a higher rank, “Yes, sir.”

[1:38am]

Taehyung, Zula, and Yoongi landed on the closest rooftop that they could when Zula looked like she was gonna pass out. She would’ve crash landed if Yoongi hadn’t caught her and lowered her gently. She had been hit pretty badly by an enchanted bullet. They couldn’t touch it.

They used the bag of cash as a pillow to elevate her head.

“I’m so scared. All of this and suddenly I’m gonna--”

“You’re not gonna die!” Yoongi barked and his voice choked, “I won’t let you.”

Taehyung was pacing, “What do we do? She’s losing a lot of blood.”

Zula had been hit in the side. They had to get her to an emergency room, but she was having a hard time staying conscious enough. The boys tried to keep her awake and searched for anything nearby that could help their girl.

She winced and reached out her hand, “Tae?”

“I’m here.” He grabbed her hand and knelt next to the only person who ever made him want to live.

Yoongi grabbed some money from the bag, “I’m gonna get someone or something to help. Don’t take the bullet out. Keep her awake. I’ll be back soon.”

He jumped off the roof and flew. Zula held Tae closer and he promised she’d stay alive. He’d give her life if he could, so she would. She had too.

“I love you.” She said.

“Don’t go.” were her actual words.

Taehyung held her hand to his lips, “I won’t.”

He said while meaning, “I love you too.”

[1:30am]

The angels landed back on the roof of the warehouse. Jin and Jungkook held their heads high as they met their believers.

“What do you want me to do?” The older asked.

“Make everyone forget tonight. I want them to forget they ever saw them at the club. They never caught up. They’re here because of an anonymous tip. This all goes to charity in a week. Forgive them.”

Jin nodded, “Yes. Your will shall be done.”

Namjoon looked at his brother, “Even me?”

Jungkook met his eyes, “Especially. You’re looking at me like I’m not your brother, and I hate it.”

Candelaria looked up at him, “Me too? No one’s gonna believe a little old lady.”

“You don’t need to lose any more memories.” He smiled at her, tired. So very tired.

“If I could have you attention please?” Jin said.

A blinding light engulfed all those who looked at the guardian Angel. Jungkook walked away to get his bike and ride with a heavy heart and feeling empty and messy and light. He had to meet Him and was on his way to do so.

The light was magnificent. It made everything melt away. All the pain. All the fear. All the stress tonight had brought. The guilt the girl who shot Zula felt. It no longer existed. The three of them were never spotted at the club. They were never chased here. The cops were here on top of a random building because of an anonymous tips. No one was to go looking for them.

It was just light.

#BTS #Bangtan #Kim Seokjin #Min Yoongi #Jung Hoseok #Kim Namjoon #Park Jimin #Kim Taehyung #Jeon Jungkook #OC: Zula #Jin #Suga #JHope #J-Hope #RM #Jimin #V #BTS V #Jungkook #Story: 666 So Fresh #BTS fic #BTS fanfic #BTS fan fic #BTS fan fiction #Demon!AU #Demon!Yoongi #Demon!Taehyung #OC insert #Angel!AU #Angel!Jin

[langrel-a]

Sara Bareilles: The Singer Who Soundtracked My Sexual Assaults

TW: A whole bunch of stuff, just FYI.

I had just gotten an iPhone (which was promptly stolen only a few months later), and the first album I bought was Sara Bareilles’ Kaleidoscope Heart. It was her newest album at the time, and dammit I was going to memorize every song if it killed me. You see, Bareilles’ music has always had a special place in my heart: she’s one of my dad and I’s favorite singers. I’ve always been close with my father, we go on long car rides together, we talk, we joke—he’s the first person I want to call with good news, and the first person I want to cry to when life becomes overwhelming. He’s always believed in me, in my ability to do anything I put my mind to. When I graduated from high school I treated myself to tickets to a Sara Bareilles concert at The House of Blues in San Diego and took my dad. We were the first in line, we got front of the line passes—my dad was taking no chances. He stood right at the front, in the center, he’s literally in every video from that night.

He’s the first person I called with the news that I’d been selected to go on a paid research trip. I couldn’t believe it, me? A college freshman, a girl who’d never even been out of my home state, traveling over 5,000 miles away? Being on a plane for the first time in my life? My dad was so excited for me, he kept saying that this is what I deserved for all my hard work, that it was proof of how smart and hardworking I was. My dad’s the one who drove me to the airport, the one who helped me pack all of the necessities—I was going to a place 11 hours from a proper city, no running water, no electricity, and no paved road in or out. On our way to the airport that morning we played Kaleidoscope Heart the whole way—my dad and I singing at the top of our lungs to King of Anything and attempting to match Bareilles’ smooth mournful tone in Basket Case. I boarded my plane and made sure my playlist for the 5-hour flight was set. It was almost divine providence that Uncharted played, just as the wheels of the plane lifted off the ground. I was soaring through the air for the first time, leaving the only state I’d ever known for a place I had no concept of. I grew up in a large city, I’d never seen a forest, never seen large wild animals, never visited a place where the sun didn’t set in the summer. It was Bareilles’ voice in my ear that comforted me, made me feel closer to my father, made me feel brave and excited.

I'm going down,//Follow if you want, I won't just hang around,//Like you'll show me where to go,//I'm already out of foolproof ideas, so don't ask me how//To get started, it's all uncharted...

For the most part the trip was incredible. I had never seen so many trees, had never seen a glacier or a moose or a bear. I’d never been in an outhouse or seen solar panels up close. The air was clean and beautiful, and you could drink water straight out of the river. I admit, that surprised me the most. Back home no one would dare drink out of the L.A. river. The mountains were huge, and as the sun traveled from one side of the horizon to the other, the summer flowers atop their peaks shone like fire. I had never felt so in awe of nature, so grateful and so excited. I hiked for the first time, built a fire, warmed my own bathwater, washed clothes with stones and a bucket—I admit I felt like a badass. The city girl—born and raised—roughing it in the woods. I felt invincible. All the while I listened to Kaleidoscope Heart, drew what I saw, and journaled. I wanted to feel close to my dad, to my family and friends back home. I wanted to bring a piece of them there with me, so they could be part of the journey I was on.

I want to let the rain come down//Make a brand new ground//Let the rain come down

When my assailant came, there was no warning that everything was about to change. There were no flashing lights or danger signs telling me that my blissful adventure was about to reach a screeching halt. We were never formally introduced and I had never even said hello to him. All I knew was that he was there for entirely different purpose from my research trip. I was staying one room down from where he was. The building we were in was an old wooden store built over 100 years ago. There was no insulation—save for whatever beehives may have lived in the walls—and the foundation was slowly sinking, making most of the rooms tilt at an odd angle. It was one of only a handful of buildings still standing. The first time I ever came in contact with him, I was alone. I was in the large dining area, looking out at the entrance where windows lined the walls and you could see outside. The sun was low on the horizon, having dipped as far as it was going to go, so though it was late at night, you could still see everything. My back was to the entrance to the kitchen. I had looked back once to see him standing there, but I thought nothing of it and continued to look out. That’s when I felt him behind me.

He attacked me from behind, and I didn’t say a word. I didn’t move, I didn’t scream or shout. I just froze. I kept looking out the windows, hoping no one would see what was happening. My heart was racing, and I felt paralyzed. I didn’t even move after he left, I just stayed there, staring at the mountains. I don’t know how long it was until I moved. I was in a haze. It was as if my soul had left my body, I couldn’t feel anything, I couldn’t hear anything. I was a machine, going through the motions, climbing the stairs, climbing into bed. I stayed awake for hours, just staring at the wooden wall. I didn’t close the curtains, and looking back, it felt as if that day never ended. It’s as if it’s still happening. I could hear him snoring down the hall, and I just kept staring straight ahead. I didn’t even have thoughts in my head. I was hollow, empty, completely devoid of emotion. I had stared into an impossibly deep abyss only to realize I was looking at myself. I don’t know how long I stayed like that, the next thing I remember I was sitting up, putting on clothes and taking a walk. I put my headphones in, let Sara comfort me. Somehow though, it sounded different. When I heard her sing, when I thought of my dad, I only felt a deep sense of shame. What would my dad think of me? I felt stupid, and weak. I kept telling myself that “I’m not the type of girl that doesn’t say anything,” and that I was being overdramatic, it wasn’t that bad I thought. I couldn’t accept what had happened, because it challenged everything I thought I knew about myself. I was rigid in my thinking and instead I chose to blame myself, to bury it and pretend it hadn’t happened. It worked, if only temporarily. It was a few days later, as I was sitting in a tiny room deemed the library that I saw him again. I had my headphones in and was working furiously on my research. I saw the door open, saw him come toward me. I looked back at my screen. To this day, I have no idea what I was so focused on. All I remember is him coming up behind me, telling me it was great to have a beautiful girl around, touching my hair. When he left, I rushed to my room. It was only 5 feet away. I closed the door and put Sara on again to drown out the sounds of his footsteps creaking on the old wooden floors. I don’t remember much, all I remember is wanting to throw up, feeling like I was stupid and that it was my fault for not saying anything. I remember clinging to my journal, my drawings, and most of all my phone. I just wanted to feel connected to something other than this place.

The second time he assaulted me, I was alone, in the kitchen. I had Sara Bareilles playing, loudly from my phone’s speaker, and I was singing along. It was a beautiful day, the sun was out, the flowers in bloom, you could hear the river right near where I was staying. I had the door to the outside open, and was preparing food for dinner. It was Bluebird that was playing the second time he came up behind me.

And so here we go bluebird//Gather your strength and rise up.

I still hear it sometimes—when I have a nightmare or it will just be there in the back of my mind. I remember focusing on it, imagining myself flying away. I held onto that voice, it was a life raft and I tried to think of nothing else. Then, when it was all over, he told me I had a beautiful voice. Looking back, I would have rather he just stabbed me. That compliment, it was as if he’d taken claim to a piece of me. My voice wasn’t mine anymore, the music I made wasn’t mine anymore, the expression, the emotion that came from me when I sang, wasn’t mine anymore. This time, I didn’t shut down. I grabbed my phone, my headphones, and walked to a bridge right over the glacial river. I was ready to jump. I had been a swimmer all my life, and I figured my family would just assume it was an accident. I was overconfident, thought I could swim across the river and was pulled under. It would be tragic but my parents would just assume it had been quick, that’d I’d been having an adventure and isn’t that the best way to go—happy? No one would ever know, I could end it right there, in the bright sunshine, as if nothing had ever happened.

Does anybody know how to hold my heart//How to hold my heart?//'Cause I don't want to let go, let go, let go too soon.

That was what stopped me. I know most of the songs on the album are about a lover, but with one foot literally over the edge, those words reached me. I don’t know why, I really don’t. Maybe it was the idea that my dad would be heartbroken. That he’d have to identify my body, that he’d never enjoy the music again because he’d never be able to enjoy the memory of me again. I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t take that away from him. It would hurt him every time he turned on the radio, or watched a certain movie, or read a certain book. I stepped back, and I cried.

The rest of the trip, I couldn’t put her music on. It became something ugly. I wanted to rip the music out of my mind, cut it out of me in some way. My assailant took Sara from me. The only album I had with me, the only thing that could’ve comforted me, now felt like torture. It only served to remind me of what had happened, reinforced that voice in my head that said I was stupid, that it was my fault, that I was a coward who almost took my own life. I couldn’t punish him, so I was punishing myself, and without the music, I truly did feel alone. He’d taken this beautiful new experience and he blackened it. When I came home, I buried everything. I shoved the bad so far down, under so many layers of guilt, and then padlocked it away with so many other bad experiences, that for about a month, I forgot about it. It wasn’t until a friend was raped only a month-two months later that it all came back.

For almost a whole year after that, there was no music.

There was anti-violence activism I got involved in, public speaking and meeting with lawmakers and officials. There was drugs, alcohol, cutting, smoking, and two suicide attempts. But there was no Sara. I couldn’t listen to her music. I felt as if I lost my identity. Her music only seemed to remind me of what didn’t exist anymore. Where was the strong girl who always swore she’d stick up for herself? Swore she’d never do drugs, or cut herself because “that’s what people do for attention” ? I was so ashamed of myself—the way I froze, the way I was(n’t) coping. Listening to her music, it reminded me of my dad. He didn’t know what was going on, not really. He’d seen me on the news, was proud of the work I was doing, but I always sidestepped the conversation about what happened. I couldn’t tell him, hell I couldn’t even tell myself. Of all the things that terrified me, his disappointment was at the top of the list. I thought he’d be ashamed of me, of how I acted during and after. I’ve never told him how bad it all got. He’s never seen the scars that run down my thigh from where I had cut at myself, never heard about how I almost jumped from a building. It was the second suicide attempt that drove me to seek more intense help. I started taking medication, started committing to therapy, I began immersing myself in art and music again. Still, I hadn’t touched Kaleidoscope Heart since the assaults. It was in May 2013 that I first heard Blessed Unrest. It’s a fitting title to the 11 months I had had. I was staying at a friend’s place, I had just broken off the friendship I had with my friend who had also been assaulted. We were dealing with things in different ways and were only hurting each other. I had moved from my dorm to a friend’s apartment for two weeks until my apartment was ready. I was just getting into therapy. The people at the apartment, they didn’t know me, but they welcomed me with open arms. They helped me move into my apartment two weeks later. It felt like a whole new start. I was still smoking, and cutting, but I was solidly on the mend. It was the first apartment I’d ever lived in: a tiny 4 bedroom with five people, all of whom were amazing. I would go to work, therapy, the movies, the bookstore, the comic store—I just enjoyed my freedom, I felt alive, I felt as if several broken bones were finally healing.

This is so you'll know the sound//Of someone who loves you from the ground//Tonight you're not alone at all//This is me sending out my satellite call

Those were the first lines I heard Sara sing after a year of literal radio silence. It was as if a long-lost friend had come back. Here she was, singing to me—telling me just what I needed to hear. Here I was, ready to hear it, ready to listen to the music again. My relationship with my dad had become different. I felt like I couldn’t talk to him about what had happened, how I was dealing with it. But Sara Bareilles? Now there’s something my dad and I can always talk about. I felt connected to him again, I felt hopeful for the first time in such a long time. It was proof that time went on, and that underneath all the trauma I was still me, I still liked the same things. I was different, but that didn’t mean I was destroyed. Blessed Unrest was like a bright light in the pitch black, showing me the way back to the pieces of myself that had changed but still mattered.

Say what you wanna say//And let the words fall out//Honestly, I wanna see you be brave

I started devouring the album, and it wasn’t long until the network of other anti-violence activists I worked with adopted Brave and Satellite Call as a kind of anthem.

I'll get my little black dress on//And if I put on my favorite song//I'm gonna dance until you're all gone//I'll get my little black dress on

My apartment mate even took a liking to Little Black Dress after I spent a night playing it loudly while I cleaned my room. The music was bringing me closer to people—it was connecting me, however tenuously, with others. I’m still very much a solitary individual, but listening to Blessed Unrest, I didn’t feel so lonely when I was alone.

Tonight//Come on, come on collide//Break me to pieces I//I think you're just like heaven

These were the words I heard as I was sitting in a hammock under the tree in my apartment complex. I had just come from a therapy appointment, where I had been asked to take a leap of faith. I had spent my life believing that everything bad that happened was my fault, and that when good things happened it was luck. If I celebrated any of my achievements, I was being boastful and would be punished with bad luck. I wasn’t doing well in school because I was smart, it was because I was lucky. If I say I’m smart, I’m inviting trouble. If I didn’t tell myself I was stupid, then I wouldn’t work hard and I’d fail. I was always waiting around for the other shoe to drop, all the while I was treating myself in a way that could only be described as self-abusive. It’s how I had coped for so long, how I had dealt with life’s problems. I wanted control, I wanted to know how things would turn out before I did anything (it’s the reason I still read a movie’s wiki page before buying tickets). So, when she said to me that the only way to know if stopping the abusive self-talk would lead to terrible or good things, was to take a leap of faith and simply try strategies to stop the cycle, it stopped me in my tracks. What my therapist had said, it struck a chord—it made me want to really put in practice the things she was suggesting. Listening to Cassiopeia, I felt as if my thought process was in words. Why not let the two worlds collide—my therapist’s ideas and mine? Something new just might emerge, something bright and wonderful. Needless to say, it did—her advice was top notch—and it was hard work putting into practice things that felt so foreign, but they changed me for the better.

For the next two years, I continued to grow and change. I ultimately stopped cutting and smoking, established stable friendships, and went back to art. In May 2015 I graduated magna cum laude with my Bachelor’s degree. I had done an honor’s senior thesis, I had helped write policy, state and federal law, had met and worked with some powerful and amazing people. However, coming back home after graduation had felt equal parts failure and relief. I wanted to be near my friends again, my family, the people who had always loved me unconditionally. At the same time, I was disappointed—all of my well laid plans had crumbled, I had no money, no job prospects. I felt myself wondering what my life would have been like if I’d never been assaulted. Who would I be? Where would I be? It was around this time that Sara Bareilles’ What’s Inside: Songs From Waitress came out. I wasn’t looking for it, honestly, I hadn’t expected her to release an album for a few years after all the touring she did, but Spotify recommended She Used To Be Mine to me, and I couldn’t resist. I immediately told my dad about her new music before I even listened to it. It wasn’t until a few weeks later, after quitting my first job out of college due to discrimination, that I really listened to the song.

It's not what I asked for//Sometimes life just slips in through a back door//And carves out a person//And makes you believe it's all true

I cried the first few times, I won’t lie. It’s a bittersweet ballad, equal parts acceptance and melancholy. My life isn’t all doom and gloom and I’ve done some pretty amazing things I wouldn’t have otherwise done if something so terrible hadn’t happened. But, much like in the song, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t go back and change things if I could.

If I'm honest I know I would give it all back//For a chance to start over//And rewrite an ending or two//For the girl that I knew

The girl I was, I don’t know her future anymore. That was taken from me, all I know is the person I am now. It doesn’t mean I can’t miss her, or think about her. She Used To Be Mine feels like the kind of thing I’d send my past self in a letter, to let her know I miss her, but that ultimately I’m ok, that I’m going to be ok.

I don’t know why the music always fits so perfectly (granted I’m not a single mother working as a waitress, so ‘perfectly’ may be overselling it slightly). If I’m honest, Sara Bareilles isn’t even my favorite singer of all time. Don’t get me wrong, she’s in my top 5, but I wouldn’t call myself a super fan by any means. I don’t follow her on twitter or even visit her website. Yet, I find myself sharing the strangest of connections with her music, with her words and her melodies. It’s as if she’s been there throughout the hard times in my life, with just the right advice.

I still can’t listen to some of the songs on Kaleidoscope Heart and I still don’t sing in front of people. In the last 4 and a half years following the assault I’ve stood up for myself, through my advocacy, my work, my academics, and the reclaiming of the things I enjoy. But, much like I can’t go back in time and be the girl I was before all of this, there are some things I can’t get back. There are also some things I don’t want to change, like the feelings I get when I listen to Blessed Unrest, or the love and support I feel from my family and friends or all of the amazing work I’ve been a part of to make other survivors’ lives better. I went to see her again a few years ago, in the time between getting better and graduation. My dad and I stood in the front row, together. We got Pink’s hotdogs afterward, we listened to Blessed Unrest the whole way down to the concert and back. It felt right to share that with my dad again. It felt normal, and fun.

Ultimately, I want to say thank you to Sara Bareilles. I doubt many people, her included, will ever read this, but if by chance you are, I want you to know you helped me find my strength. Your music didn’t just have the misfortune of being the soundtrack to my assault, it was the soundtrack to my recovery, it was what helped me stop with one foot literally over the ledge, and for that I can only offer you my deepest gratitude.

But hold them and keep them And know that you need them When your breaking point's all that you have A dream is a soft place to land May we all be so lucky

TL;DR In 2012 I was sexually assaulted, twice by the same man, all in the span of about a week. This is the story of how I got better and how Sara Bareilles eerily seemed to have my back.

#sara bareilles #kaleidoscopeheart #blessedunrest #assault #sexualassault #music #emotional #suicide #cutting #drugs #recovery #therapy #activism #trigger warning