#(not from place of malice - just morbid curiosity)

[an-organized-confusion]

Just some fun Gymrat!Patton thoughts with the co-conspirator:

Me: the army emt just makes me think of Gymrat!Pat [because combat medic hx] i'm debating on what's funnier - when pat served if he swore like the rest of 'em or absolutely held onto minced oaths w/ the same gd intensity

Him: Minced, with entire bases having betting pools on what makes him fully swear Which is won in the end by a child saying, “What will make the paramedic swear? A kid getting hurt. He fawns over us as if we're his own kids. Whenever you guys aren't looking he gives us candy!" And then like a week later that same kid gets hit by a car and Patton goes ballistic on hearing about it. Takes half of his company restraining him from going after the driver. He was swearing so hard and for so long the army members blushed and looked ashamed at their ineptitude in swearing...

#sanders sides #patton sanders #injuries/ #(i'm just imagining on any other rotation/case him just stringing together the most colorfully intense minced oaths possible) #(all the hecks + darns + shoots) #(said with the same angry intensity as any other member) #(he may indulge in using the NATO phonetic alphabet - and translate that back to minced oaths again) #(if the sitrep called for it) #(he went to teaching elementary school after his army contract ended) #(he definitely reserves talking abt the shit he's seen to VA support grps) #(he's emotionally intelligent enough to know he doesn't want to give his famILY some secondhand trauma) #(doesn't stop remus from poking the issue several times... :'D ) #(not from place of malice - just morbid curiosity)

[lewdangelsou]

cats don't speak

sypnosis || scaramouche ordered some gifts for his lover to try out.

warnings: lower case intentional, mean scaramouche, afab gn! reader (using she/her), filming, fingers down your throat, saliva/spit/drool, choking, dacryphilia, mention of butt plug, heavy degrading, sprinkle of praise. getting called kitty. humiliation.

minors dni

·˚ ༘ not proofread hehe

the pads of his fingers caress the texture of the leather that wrap around her neck, the bell dangling with soft dings. scaramouche smirks, gazing down at herㅡ on her knees on the floor, looking up at him through those pretty long lashes with a hint of shame within her eyes.

"see? it's perfect." his smile was condescending, a type of malice that made her heart pound against her ribcage. scaramouche traces the artificial ears that clipped to her soft hair, he's starting to treat her just like a small pet; delicate and needy.

his lover puckers her lips into a slight pout, the plug nestled deep into that tight cavern of her rear, an uncomfortable yet sensational feeling, the fluffy tail resting in between her thighs. "it feels weird..." she confesses, resting her cheek upon the rough denim of his lap.

the entire ordeal of getting dragged to his bedroom with a nicely wrapped package on his sheets piqued her curiosity greatly, only to reveal that they're merely toys for his entertainment. for his model, his muse, his loverㅡ she's the perfect candidate for his sore eyes. scaramouche doesn't listen to her complaints in the beginning, her sentences falling to deaf ears as each article of clothing strips off of her body just for this act of power.

he tips her head back, "i don't understand you, kitty" a derisive grin spread across his handsome face, causing her very core to tighten from the voltage of adrenaline.

"come on, meow for the camera."

a thick clump of saliva dries her throat as she swallows, a whole weight of shame lay heavy within her head as her pupils gloss towards the camera. she hesitates, ".. me.. mew..?"

despite her best attempt, scaramouche isn't pleased. he pulls at her bottom lip to part them, eyeing the pink interior of her mouth as strings of saliva thread loosely. "i know you look so pathetic but at least try."

".. scaramouche, come onㅡ"

her eyes gape immediately at the flavorless taste of his fingers pushing past her teeth, pressing down on her tongue to silence her protests. as if on an instant, she clicked right back to her place, kneeling before the man who has spoiled her with his morbid affection.

"if you can't meow, why not lick, hm?"

he drags his fingers across the surface of her pink tongue, gently moving in and out of her mouth, suggesting that she puts in the effort for him. through her muddled vision she submits, suckling on his fingers until a rhythm builds that satisfies them both. with each bob of her her head, the bell attached to her collar jingles, only adding to the throb that aches scaramouche's cock.

his indigo eyes watching every detail of the way her pretty lips wrap around his middle and ring finger, glazing them with spit each time she parts from it for a single second before drawing in once more. he groans, voice mixing with the followed slurping noise of her continuous sucking.

"hah.. finally, something you're good for."

her heart quelled, urging herself to go faster, deeper. thus, scaramouche muses at the way she gags at the tips of his digits hitting the back of her throat, feeling his dull nails hit the flesh. tears form to sear her vision and pearl down her flushed cheeks, the thickened tension between them making it difficult to breathe. and through all of this, she doesn't take her eyes away from the lenses of scaramouche's phone as he fails to keep it steady.

she even puts on a show, opening her mouth enough to swirl her tongue around his fingers like an obedient pet, before shoving them deep down her throat once more. drool dribbles down her chin and dripping down to the surface of her cleavage, adding to the pornographic-like feel that is presented to him.

"fuck that's it."

#genshin smut #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche smut

[littleguyconnor]

I’ve started over on this painting like 4 times already and I want to take a a break. I am going to do a character study of Medic because he’s the one I feel people get the most wrong. (I’ll try and be as factual as possible but my own interpretation of him will be in there too, it’s inevitable, yadda yadda)

Let’s start with his hunting his old team with the classic mercs, since that’s when we’re first reunited with him.

It was not done out of betrayal.

I want to reference a piece of dialogue that I think showcases his entire mindset about it very well. When Classic Heavy asks if hunting down his old team will be a problem, Medic replies by saying “A chance to test my latest triumphs against my earliest experiments? No, that won’t be a problem at all.”

Look at the phrasing of that. There isn’t a single hint of malice or ill intent in it. His earliest experiments. His teammates that he’s spent years building up, improving, trying everything he knows and doesn’t to make them the best mercenaries he can. Against his latest triumphs. He wants to see how far he can take his practice, if all his work can hold up against something he knows is strong. It’s like how engineering students stand on their bridges to make sure it holds. Sure, it might break, but now they, Medic in this case, know what to improve on. Is it a very literal and playing-with-life kind of method? Yes. But that’s all it is. There isn’t any underlying reasoning, he thinks very literally and does things the same way. We also know this is true because he says it himself when Sniper confronts him about it, explaining that he was genuinely happy to see them and that his facial expression just came across differently to Sniper. Now, another thing I want to talk about on this topic is why he joined the Classic team in the first place. In the same panel I referred to last time there’s a very specific phrasing CHeavy uses that I want to highlight.

“I swear to god, if you put a single uterus in my men…”

Medic was never considered part of the team, and he knows this. He actually uses this to advantage. He’s an impermanent addition, and thus inconsequential. He’s using them as guinea pigs and that is what’s done out of malice. He’s being mistreated and obviously not considered anything of worth, so he’s going to retaliate in a very Medic fashion. This man is not a pushover, and of everything, I want to get that across the most.

Medic is extremely strong, both physically and mentally. He’s able to hold out for a considerable amount of time against CHeavy throwing him around. The thing that ends up killing him is a cheap shot from a gun. He’s also witty enough to outsmart Satan himself. (I don’t think there’s really anything else to say on that one.) This man is so intelligent and knows when people are using him from the second they start, and he plays along with it. He doesn’t even necessarily act dumb either. It’s just that he’s so eccentric and personable that people mistake him as someone easily to manipulate and end up getting ripped apart from the inside.

Branching off from this point: Medic is a genuinely kind person. He’s just weird. And I mean that in the most professional way possible. His intentions are good and done out of a passion for medicine, curiosity, and respect for his team. There’s a reason he spends so much time improving them. Part of it is just the morbid curiosity and the satisfaction that comes from fulfilling that, but it’s also because he wants his team to win. He wants them to be the best versions of themselves, literally. His odd and eccentric demeanor just makes his actions come out a little morbid and frightening. But he loves people. And he cares. Above all, remember, he’s a doctor. And it’s a doctor’s job to help people.

Now onto his relationship with Heavy. What I’m going to be talking about with this leans a little more on the head canon side, but I don’t think it’s too far off from what could actually be canon.

Whether they’re friends, lovers or something else isn’t relevant. Regardless of what they are, they have an incredibly strong bond built on solid foundations. Respect is the main one.

Medic’s teammates seem to have a strange disregard for him. It’s the same treatment they give Pyro, although there’s less infantilization and more flippant-ness. I don’t think it’s done out of meanness, more just so that he’s outwardly really freakish and open about experimenting on them with dubious ethics. They care about him, he’s a vital part of the team, it’s just.. less enthusiastic. But with Heavy, that dynamic changes completely. Heavy respects him so much, and likes him genuinely enough to see past the thing everyone else gets hung up on. And it’s because Medic is the only one he’s met that is capable of outsmarting bullets. Heavy respects Medics genuine intelligence and skill, and because Heavy is extremely smart too, they get along really well. And Medic cares so much for Heavy. I think that as a child, he grew up very estranged and “othered” for his interests and awkward social skills. There haven’t been many people in his life who are willing to get close to him, or really, let him get close to them. And there’s a kind of refuge he takes in Heavy for that. A mutual understanding and care for each other.

And yes, Medic is an awkward person! Just not in the sense that people typically are, and I think that is such an important part of his character. He isn’t good at expressing empathy in a socially acceptable way as I’ve discussed previously, is overly literal, blunt, and genuinely a little oblivious sometimes to the tone of the conversation or of his own words. And instead of trying to resolve that, he’s just stopped caring about it all together because he knows he can be himself. It’s why his job with the Classic Mercs failed. They wanted him to be something he’s not, and Medic wasn’t going to tolerate that kind of treatment!

#team fortress two #team fortress #tf2 #medic tf2 #tf2 medic #character analysis #long post #i talk a lot. I’m so serious when I put that tag

[egg-emperor]

Right on! I honestly do not understand why people say things like "We gotta humanize eggy by making him less evil" . Eggy is already a very human character. Selfishness and greed have been human traits ever since caveman Grog bashed his neighbour Tharg's head in with a rock and stole his wife, meat and fur.

Eggy is a great example of what happens when a human just lets their selfishness, greed and ego run wild.

Exactly, being evil is very human. The dark parts of humanity and the human mind has always fascinated me both in real life and fiction, morbid curiosity and my passion for writing characters believing in and doing things that I never would, and the challenge that comes with seeing from different perspectives that improves my skills as a writer, are all things I hold dear. It has inspired years of learning, analysis, creativity, and writing for me.

I don't want to pretend we live in a world where everyone is secretly good. There is abhorrent evil in this world and it can and should be fictionalized just as much as the good that equally exists. I also don't want to pretend that the human mind's, beliefs, feelings, and desires are always pure and well intentioned deep down in every person. The mind can be a dark place in many ways too. My mind is and I don't want to hide that in shame.

Just because my mind is one way doesn't mean my actions reflect it, just like how some people's actions won't reflect their mind either. That's also interesting to me to explore through learning about it and fictionalizing it. I like to see what dark minds like mine can create too and it's just as valuable. I wish people like us weren't shamed and told that we can't create and share our passion and our work just because it doesn't have conventional goodness.

There are many inherent human traits and feelings people in fandom (or holier than thou people in general) like to pretend don't exist, like they're above it and say it shouldn't be explored in fiction. But they're in denial that they're things we can all feel. Goodness, love, kindness, anger, envy, confidence, desire, self love, empathy, etc, exists in humans but so does evil, hatred, cruelty, anger, malice, jealousy, arrogance, greed, selfishness, apathy, etc.

Love can become dark and selfish or be replaced by hate. Kindness can be replaced with cruelty. Anger can become malice. Envy can become jealousy, confidence can become arrogance, desire can become greed, self love can become egotism, multiple of these things and more can have selfishness in them too. We're all capable of feeling these things even if we don't, and they can't seem to accept that and deny it, especially regarding characters.

It's common for people to deny these things are human, it's why they say those who do horrible evil are "inhuman/monsters/animalistic/etc". They don't want to believe and accept that they're human like us. That we could be like them. Humans can be vile and wretched and deeply evil just like they can be good. You can be one or the other or both. Many times they can overlap but at the same time, I don't agree that nobody can ever be truly fully evil.

You can absolutely still be a truly terrible person if you do "good" things and you can do "bad" things while still being a truly good person. Good intentions can show in bad ways when they become harmful and toxic and bad ones can appear good in manipulation or delusion. Acknowledging THAT is what nuance is, not pretending we're all exactly the same and must all have certain assets apply to us or were incomplete, unrealistic, or boring.

Humans can be so many different things in so many different ways but those can be very good or very evil. It's possible for only the good or bad things to apply, or a mix of both. That's why I like putting characters into good, neutral, and evil. The real world isn't only good and neutral and fiction shouldn't be either. Embracing and exploring the evil too is the true excitement and challenge of writing. You need this skill, that's what it takes to be a good writer.

I like how Eggman reflects the true evil in humanity that very much does exist. It's not unrealistic, it's just his out of this world crazy methods that are. But I wish people didn't forget his evil, anger, malice, cruelty, sadism, rudeness, apathy, ruthlessness, egotism, selfishness, greed, dark desires, destructive tendencies and crimes are all very human. We're all capable of that. We do feel at least some of those because it's so human.

That powerful message has existed in Eggman from the very beginning. He's not representing all humans being bad, but the very real evil and dark part of humanity that exists and shouldn't be denied or sugarcoated. Pretending that what he's doing is actually good/has to have originally good intentions behind it/have him change into a better person to "fix" him or give him nuance, takes away from that message and removes what makes it interesting and clever.

Eggman being evil, egotistical, and egotistical is what leads to his evil acts, cruelty, desire for power and control and the awful things he'll do to get it while enjoying it. That's the causation and we're told over and over by the writers, the bios, the character and stories themselves. They do not imply that it comes from a good place in the games and this isn't bad or unrealistic and certainly not "boring". It's intriguing and has tons of potential.

Humanizing Eggman is acknowledging and accepting that he's all these things while still being human, dehumanizing him is denying he is these things or saying he's inhuman for it. I'm actually humanizing him, those who act like humans must all tick the exact same boxes are dehumanizing him. It should also serve as a reminder that we could all be like him, we're all capable of that darkness and evil if we have the will and decide to act.

And I always enjoy exploring and writing characters who do, especially when seeing how far they can go because it's just fascinating. It's also fun to take on the challenge to write a character with such a different perspective and experiences than my own and it helps improve writing and characterization skills without personal feelings or bias influencing how you write that character and straying away from accuracy. That's very important in good writing.

Eggman has very human traits and feelings, they just exist in very evil ways in him, which is just as realistic and should be represented and explored too. It's also absolutely possible to develop and humanize him even more without going purification/bettering/redemption/downplaying of his actions or putting sympathetic sad reasons or good intentions behind what he does. It can be done without losing what makes him unique and himself.

Sega/Sonic Team/official writers seem to know what they're doing with Eggman in the games even in Frontiers, by him still very much not being a better/less evil person or suddenly morally gray, he's a bad person and even the "good" things are rooted in selfishness and ego. It's just that some don't understand because they think there's only one way to humanize bad guys further and deny they're human in the first place just for being evil at all.

Everything isn't just good and evil but it is still absolutely possible to just be good or evil as much as both or somewhere in between. I don't want to pretend it isn't. The approach they've had to Eggman's further humanization, though he was already very human in the first place, is good because it's more interesting and nuanced than the majority of fandom is making it out to be. I'm looking forward to them making that especially clear in the future.

And I mean in main game stuff specifically, as they've actually already been doing it in all official media since Frontiers in IDW, Murder of Sonic, even Minecraft and it's great. He's still very much evil and not a better person and I'm so happy about that. But I can't wait until it's in a main game again so misconceptions about Eggman's portrayal in Frontiers that go against the writers stated intentions will be cleared up even more blatantly.

And of course as usual I'm also just really excited to see what kind of glorious diabolical evil the handsome devil gets up to next! 🥰💜💘

#dr eggman #eggman #dr robotnik #dr. eggman #asks #my post #eggman is evil

[seths-wife]

I tried to translate the recent comic from Ichika regarding the conversation between Seth and Lich.

Disclaimer: the translation may be incorrect in one or multiple instances since I'm no expert at all in japanese. I did this for morbid curiosity and to occupy the brief free time from my university lessons. I took notes of price's answer to my ask about the comic to help myself with this.

Lich: no.0527.

Record no.5.

Experimental dialogue 1.

The subject is part of the mask clan, the hereditary malice cultivators.

Seth Twiright.

For now, feel free to speak freely.

If you don't have anything to say, just say so.

After that, I'm going to ask you a few questions.

Seth: I just can't stand dead women.

Lich: I'd rather have you call it "donated body".

Seth: It doesn't change the fact that it's a female dead body, does it?

This is so hard to move around.

I've been trying to voice complaints for a week now.

I want a male body, as I am male.

Plus, I want a live human body.

I didn't manage to get through because of the written form of communication being used.

What is going on?

Lich: It's not like you didn't get to know that your proposal was rejected, right?

How can there be guarantee that the live individual we would give you won't become affected by "hers"?

Seth: I exercise my right to silence.

Lich: I guess that already answers that question.

Seth: But, you know.

I thought I could get someone who wouldn't mind being a "her".

I'm an old "artificial" organism with parents and multiple generations.

As a super-organism, I possess an intelligence and personality that is on par with you humans, despite the fact our life form is much more akin to bacteria and viruses.

I bet that ours was a lifeform that was easy to design.

And it's exactly because of our simplicity that we can't achieve our potential without the use of humans as a medium.

For the fact , we can not even speak words without having such medium.

Considering all of this,

isn't it time for humans to be made artificially?

I can't do good research without coexisting with other people.

That's why every reaserch of mine is always a joint project, even if 100% of that is my own theory and results.

I've read your paper.

I'm waiting impatiently for a human with no personality or human rights.

So, let me change the question.

Why don't you make an artificial human being?

Speaking about the theoretical aspect, you should have more than enough to work with.

And greed for proof.

And desire for succesful results.

Scientists have them both, shouldn't they?

It's okay to overlook on bio-ethics sometimes.

Or is it that you are you worried about what the man who visited you before me said?

If I'm not mistaken, how can you be the responsible of all the personalities that work here?

You're more cowardly than I thought.

I'm surprised to hear you are an authority on artificial life in the first place.

I can help you with that if you want.

It's a field I'm personally interested in.

Lich: 14:27.

Seth: ?

Lich: End of the experimental dialogue.

Impression; talks a lot.

Seth: Are we already done? All right, all right.

Next time, I'd like you to give me the body that I want.

Ahh~.

I wouldn't mind for that body to be yours.

I have a feeling you and I could be "good" friends.

#evillious chronicles #evillious #seth twiright #lich arklow

[alans-maladaptive-daydreams]

Beel's peculiar snacks.

This chat makes me think that going out with Beel is a constant danger, even more if where you live there are many stray animals.

In Argentina we have a place where pigeons are too comfortable with humans, you can feed them but then they will follow you and climb on top of you. So almost immediately I connected those two dots and thought "Hm…what would it be like to go out on a date with Beel to a place like that?"

If you're a person with a sensitive stomach, I feel sorry for you. If you're the morbid type, I don't know what to tell you, enjoy the show...I guess?

Warnings: Mentions of blood and death of an animal. Nothing explicit but just in case. Non-native writing, so if you find an error, please let me know!

Words: 653.

Reader: Gender Neutral.

Beel is excited as he looks around at the statues decorating the place and people walking slowly. When you suggested him to visit that place with the intention of having a small picnic, he looked more than excited and happy, he didn't hesitate to answer yes as soon as you finished asking him.

That place was known for the friendly and mischievous pigeons, you could feed them but then you had to put up with several birds following you all day long.

The plaza was full of pigeons everywhere, many of them ran and flew after terrified people, it gave you a little laugh, but you knew how to fake it correctly, besides it could easily be you, so better not to tempt your luck.

The red-headed boy seemed interested in feeding the pigeons so you gave him a piece of the sandwiches you had made, after the fifth try, because poor baby was hungry and ended up eating the pieces, the pigeons that ate from his hands felt very comfortable around Beel and ended up settling on his shoulders and head.

It's fun and adorable to see this precious giant feeding the pigeons and petting them as if they were dogs, the birds followed him with hurried little steps as they watched you and him walk to a different place, quiet and away from people.

So yes, the date you had planned with Beel was interrupted by almost 50 pigeons who were waiting for him to throw them something to eat or waiting for the little caresses the gentle giant gave them.

"I see you made new friends." you smiled taking pictures of how cute he looked. You sent it to the group chat because you thought his brothers deserved to see such a cute scene.

As you smiled as you read the funny messages from her brothers you heard a crackling and several flapping sounds.

You looked at the gentle giant who looked at you with big, frightened eyes. Like a little puppy who had been caught doing something he shouldn't have.

"Beel…" You looked at him a little terrified. "Did you just eat a pigeon?"

His big innocent eyes made you think he had done it without malice but the streaks of blood falling from his mouth reminded you that this adorable redhead was a demon. One that most of his actions were motivated by the constant and painful hunger he felt, and that he would not hesitate to eat people if the hunger completely took over his being.

Beel nodded after swallowing the poor bird. "Sorry, I was hungry." He murmured worriedly. "Were they someone's?"

"No…but…" you didn't know how to tell him that eating a pigeon wasn't the most normal thing to do in the human world, at least not without some kind of cooking, you think. Curiosity itched you, to be honest the morbid curiosity of the peculiar situation won you over a bit at that moment. "Taste…good?"

Beel nodded, by that time the pigeons that saw such a spectacle had flown away. They had realized that unlike many people who ran away in terror when they approached, to him they were nothing more than a snack.

"You could end the overpopulation of pigeons." You muttered feeling a little bad for the poor animal that suffered such a grotesque fate. "Don't eat any more pigeons Beel, we don't know what they might carry and I don't want you to get sick." It sounded strange to have to clarify such a thing to you.

You couldn't even imagine how strange and uncomfortable it would have been if someone had seen him eat a whole pigeon in one bite.

Beel smiled and nodded cheerfully as he took bites of the sandwich. You held out a napkin for him to wipe off the blood dripping down his chin and, with a slightly upset stomach, looked at the sandwich in your hands.

To be honest, your appetite was gone.

#obey me shall we date #obey me scenarios #obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me beelzebub x mc #obey me beel #obey me beel imagine #obey me beel scenario #alan's maladaptive daydreams #obey me mc

[thinkingheron]

Prompt Fic -- Small Lights in the Dark

@flashfictionfridayofficial​ prompt : Pride before the fall

The crowd was rabid. No one was talking, but being a Psy mage, Canopus could hear everything. The majority wanted him gone, and would relish at his execution.

Any other times, he would have been fascinated at how quickly people turned. Now however, he just felt sick of everything.

By the Stars, was he really this unpopular? It had to be a record, even for him. Granted, Psy mages were never well-liked by others, but he was not sure if he really deserved this level of hostility. He had no idea that all these people really supported Lord Umbre's reign. It was such a different tune from when Canopus had wandered through the Castle Town streets under disguise.

He suppose he should have expected this. Nobody likes a turncoat, and he was Umbre's first apprentice, after all. There was no reason for any of these people to defend him when he was caught conspiring against his own master.

There was still a handful who were on his side --the ones who had not sold him off. Their thoughts were like tiny drops of water in a scorching desert, but they were either fearful or sad, neither of which were particularly helpful at the moment. Fear in particular was never helpful.

From the raised dais at the front, Umbre started speaking something, but Canopus was not listening. He refused to even look at his former master, instead staring at a small family of three hidden among the crowd. Sapphire, the father, was watching with wide eyes, not even bothering to hide his horrified expression. With this crowd, that was liable to get himself lynched. His wife was a little braver, watching with calm sadness. She was holding her baby daughter a little too close however.

Up ahead, Umbre was preparing the spell, but Canopus barely paid any attention. He wondered what Sapphire's family was still doing here, when he had told them to get away from this place as far as possible. Still, if they were still here and could hide in the crowd, that must mean his protective spells were working. Everyone he had helped escape Umbre's all-seeing eyes would be safe even after he died. Maybe some of them could bring about the end of Lord Umbre's reign. He could take pride in that at least.

The spell preparation was complete. Canopus instantly recognized it as the one he had helped develop himself. Umbre was seeking to not only kill him, but also distort every living memory of him. Their gaze met for the first time that day. There was a hint of morbid curiosity in the High sorceror's eyes, as if daring Canopus to try to defend himself.

Canopus kept his head high. There was no defense against that spell, but Umbre also did not know about the protective spells he had put on others.

The runes lit up, and the crowd held their breath.

Canopus made no move. He focused on the sliver of lights amidst the malice -- those whose thoughts were with him. He thought of the tiny baby in Elan's arms, and the future she could now have away from Lord Umbre's stifling influence.

Umbre raised his staff.

Darkness.

#a return to an old fic I put on hiatus for... years now #Light in the Darkness #prompt fic #flash fic friday #tw death #death #heron writes

[darkvindr]

Of all the things he could have imagined would adorn your body in that instance, he didn't imagine that the yellow sundress—his favorite, by the way—would be the chosen one, and more so in the presence of his best friend. He's tempted to back out of that deal; not to twist his arm willingly even if he is the cause of Suguru's blue balls. However, at the same time, he wants this to be a small test of probabilities.

A study where the subjects are unaware of his experimentation.

His beefy arms wrap around your frame, resting his chin on your shoulder. He can see Geto from this position, with that hungry gaze and that dark look of which you seem ignorant. He allowed himself to move up one of his hands to hold your hair in his grip, kissing your lower lip, his orbs focused on his opponent. “I missed you too, precious. Have you been a good girl in my absence?” He pressed your lips together lightly, just so you'd feel the brush. And cause a provocation. His hands had descended (releasing his grip) to settle on your buttocks, performing a pressure, enlarged palms massaging your cheeks while he could feel needles in his complexion. “A little birdie told me your work is going uphill lately, mh-mh. Am I going to have to fight Utahime for the place of your top priority, or would you force me to buy your hotel so that you have to be around me all the time?”

He knew what he was doing. His office was suddenly too warm, footsteps becoming audible as the opposite couch was suddenly empty, Getou bursting the atmosphere as he cocked his head to the side feigning ignorance. His smile was friendly on the surface, but upon closer inspection, the predatory overtones were visible. It was obvious what was going on.

A rivalry had broken out, and there was only one way to make amends.

“Jazmín.” His velvety tone broke through the comfort of your conversation and daring touches before his eyes. If anything, he would take advantage of your shyness, scrutinizing you to feel the weight of his desire. Probably, if your formulation of events were accurate, you would see clearly how much Geto is holding back from pouncing on you and slipping his hand under your dress, ripping off your lovely panties. What color would they be? Do you like pink? Or black? Would you have a lovely ribbon down the center, or would he find red lingerie? He wants to know everything, especially if he has you gagged with his heavy cock on your pretty tongue, your lips stained with his cum. “I'm fine now that I finally get to see you, sweetheart. Although, of course, I'm surprised Satoru didn't tell you I was here... After all, he was the one who offered for us to share time together. The three of us. You know how he is. Always wanting to keep his two favorite people together, don't you, Satoru?”

His closed-eyed smile hid the malice in his tone, the white-haired man's daggers being useless in the face of his charm.

He had to resign himself to let out a sigh at your new question, looking between you and Geto, not knowing the reason why his morbid curiosity was so dangerous. His longing to see his best friend fucking you had become a particular whim, driving him up a wall with no escape when his decision came in full force, the smile on his lips as mischievous as that of his companion.

He held your wrist gently, leading you to the couch, settling you between his legs as if you had belonged there since the beginning of time.

Before offering a reply, he held your chin subtly, forcing you to look at him. “You don't interrupt anything. As Suguru says, there was a slight change of plans. It's time for you to get to know each other better.” His nose nestled into your neck, sniffing you, his hands moving up from your soft, smooth thighs to the edge of your dress, lifting it gently. He looked down at the new lingerie set, and had to close his eyes, say three prayers, and return to his orbit, because there was no way... That this was intentional. “... I see you brought me a little gift as well.” He whispered, his voice a low octave. “Or brought us a little gift.”

Surely you had been a bit thrown off by the plural suggestion, so clarification was immediate as you visualized Geto once again. He was removing his jacket, setting it down on the chair and positioning himself in at the opposite end from Satoru, holding your legs and deciding to prop them up on his own lap, leaving you settled and reclining on your boyfriend's chest. 

(If it went well, he would be called your boyfriend, too.)

The massage on your dermis was set in motion, his concentration plausible as he raised both eyebrows. “Oh, Satoru. Do you want to scare her? Don't be so blunt when you speak. She's trembling like a scared little bunny. I bet she thinks we want to ravish her.” He flashed his pearly smile, climbing up and up, stopping at your knees. “You trust us, don't you, honey? You know we just want to reward you. We've heard about all your new connections, and you work so hard… You must be so tired.”

Satoru finished by pulling up your dress, showing Geto your lingerie. The erection was squeezing his pants and rubbing against your ass, a vivid sign of what was to come, his guttural laughter rumbling through space at the sentences being uttered. Of course. 

Good cop, and bad cop.

Looks like he must be the bad cop this time.

“Suguru, do you think she deserves to be rewarded? Just look at her lingerie. She's practically begging us to abuse her little holes until we make her cry and moan. Only bad girls look for provocative methods to get what they want.” He spread your legs with both hands, forcing Suguru to lean forward, one enlarged palm reclining over Satoru's as his cheek rested on the inside of your thigh. “Come on. Take a closer look at her. She sure has been wet since she entered the building. Isn’t that so lewd and slutty? Perhaps we should consider punishment instead.”

He could feel your trembling complexion, but Satoru would never initiate something he knew you couldn't handle. If this wasn't to your liking, he could stop at any time. He had no particular problem fucking you at his desk and getting Suguru out of his office. 

A part of him, nevertheless, is almost certain, even before he whispers in your ear:

“Princess,” a hint of warning on the tip of his tongue, the fabric returning to cover your body a little, Suguru still watching you from below with hungry, heavy eyes. His tongue promises wonder, and Satoru's promises torment. It all falls to your hands as your chin is held, your eyes riveted on the white-haired man's. “You want to fuck Suguru, don’t you?”

The tone was forceful, and two ghoulish smiles regarded you with amusement, ready to devour you.

Satoru Gojo & Suguru Geto.

To be honest, nothing could have prepared her for this precise moment, although she could not say that the whole situation was unpleasant for her, quite the contrary actually.

Geto Suguru was a mysterious man in the eyes of everyone else, with a sharp tongue and a personality along with a type of words that could leave your legs shaking in a second, and she was no exception. Every word penetrated her ears as if it were the melodious song of a siren that instantly hypnotized her, telling her exactly what to do and making her succumb in a instant.

The girl would be lying if she said she didn't find him attractive, shit no— she was incapable of even making the attempt. Still remembering, playing in her head like a broken record, the way he looked at her the night they met, her eyes couldn't leave his figure either during the whole time. Curiosity prickled her insides, and there was a feeling of wanting to know him a little bit more with each little encounter, a building tension that was bound to break at any moment.

Still it wasn't that her own boyfriend wasn't enough, but there was that little and devilish voice in her left shoulder telling her that two were better than just one.

And although she had always sensed that tension between her Satoru and the raven-haired one, it wasn't something that she couldn't voice it out loud to the first mentioned, until this exact moment, of course. So this situation was simply perfect, just as her deepest fantasies would have imagined. Even better.

Every sentence by the two men made her heart pump blood to every part of her body rapidly, starting a second beat between her trembling legs as she tried to concentrate on both of them, but it was such an overwhelming sensation that it left her head spinning.

"Shit...," she bites her lip at the million dollar question. Stifling a soft moan as Satoru's erection poked her ass, and out of instinct she rubs herself lightly over his covered cock in an attempt to feel a little more of the albino.

Her eyes travel to the one in front of her, his warm breath hitting her skin causing a current of shivers to run down her spine. A heat burning her insides and the terrible feeling that her clothes were already beginning to bother her was triggering.

Stealthy fingers tangled in Suguru's black hair, massaging his scalp until she felt him sigh for her palm to descend to his hot cheek, gently caressing it, only causing that feeling of wanting more to increase. And at this point the answer was more than obvious to all three of them with those slight touches.

"I want to fuck him.", her voice came out slowly as she addresses Satoru, lips almost touching and moving from them to his piercing blue eyes. "I'm gonna fuck him, and you're gonna watch— but I bet you'll like that, don't you?"

The hand that was free plays with the edge of her black panties still covering her pussy. There's a choked gasp, her head drooping against her boyfriend's shoulder as she closes her eyes with a slight frown, exposing her glistening cunt to a pair of hungry eyes. A thin, transparent thread of arousal hanging from the lace fabric still connected to her pulsing center, making them both see how wet she was from just a couple of playful words, exactly like they said.

#satosugu.txt

[yuikomorihotline]

𝔙𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔔𝔲𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔜𝔲𝔦 𝔵 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

No specified appearance or gender, use of the nickname 'pet', reader being forced to wear skimpy clothes, very mild humiliation, Yui low-key being domme. Don't bully me T - T

The sound of slow tapping resonated throughout the palace throne room. The queen's long talon like nails, glazed in a velvety black matte varnish,tapping against the armrest of her ancient throne in impatience, waiting to see the fascinating specimen some dull duke claimed to have found on his property.

"A gift fitting of our radiant queen", that's what the letter said.

She scoffed at the duke's audacity and boldness.

Some noble she never heard of writing to her, and even giving her a 'gift'. The queen always asked herself how rich men have such stupid confidence and gall to do and talk about things in such an audacious manner.

To their queen no less.

However, she's not one to turn down something beautiful. Queen Yui adores anything beautiful, even simple trinkets in any household of any status.

At this point, her curiosity was getting the best of her. What was the gift?

A rare and beautiful fowl?

A box of jewelry?

Another concubine?

A... Human?!

She clutched the armrest with an iron grip, leaned forward and gasped in shock when she smelled... Human blood?!

What's a mortal doing in the demon realm?! This is no place for something so fragile!

The gigantic and beautifully carved wooden doors opened, with her head of guard dragging in a human, adorned in jewelry from head to toe and wearing... Rather inappropriate and immodest apparel. Certainly improper to be wearing in front of a queen of all people.

The poor human's head was kept down and was dragged along on all fours, with a diamond encrusted leash pulling them along.

Yui certainly felt the utmost sympathy for this poor thing, herself not being a stranger to humiliation and degradation prior to her reign.

She could cry from just sensing how humiliated and distressed this person felt. Wearing a garment that barely covered their chest and crotch, everything was very much exposed by the expensive and see through material. However... She did feel an urge to tease them a little, just to see what they're like flustered. Her little concubines weren't at all unfamiliar with her gentle and suggestive teasings.

The queen glided over and knelt to their level, gently raising their head with her tiny hand.

"What might your name be, pet?"

Her voice was beautiful... Sweet like honey and not a shred of malice or mockery in her songbird like voice.

The leashed human looked up at her... The queen not being at all what they were expecting. Not at all.

They expected to see some tall, dark haired goddess, with darker eyes and incapable of mere scraps of kindness, and pale with unhealthy cold hues and a mocking grin that could make the most hardened of criminal cry. Her fangs should be like long daggers that are stained in blood.

This woman was petite... Platinum blonde hair and romantic pink eyes... Her skin had a pretty pink hue and what seemed to be a constant blush on her cute face. Her smile was sweet... Pure and genuine, capable of making the most hardened of criminal beg this angel for forgiveness. This woman's fangs were sharp and... Cute? They weren't at all intimidating, they looked more like a cat's little fangs.

The little intruder wanted to... Feel them in a way? Just to know what it feels like to get their blood sucked.

Less regal and morbid looking than what was expected of a vampire queen.

Undeniably beautiful and angelic nonetheless.

"Pardon me, I asked about your name, pet.", She asked again.

The human squeaked their name out, immediately interested in her. They thought that she must be some kind of succubus, because only a creature like that has that charming allure, the power to make even the proudest of people grovel at her feet and to be completely loyal and obedient to her.

Yui stroked their cheek gently, and giggled when she felt their face heat up.

"That's such a pretty name for a pretty pet~", the pink eyed woman cooed, playing with their warmed up ear delicately.

"I've always wanted a nice pet to keep me company~", she purred teasingly into their ear. "You'll be on your best behavior, won't you? I hate giving out mean punishments to pets who can't behave..."

Her new pet shuddered from her sweet whispers and instantly feeling an urge to please her in any way she wants and to be her good pet. They barely knew this woman, yet they so desperately wanted to be her favourite.

"I can tell that we'll get along very well~"

#admin #my writing #headcanons #yui komori #diabolik lovers #vampire queen yui

[sunnomnoms]

Could you write something about Tokoyami having a crush in an new studant/exchanged studant that seems a little shy at first but soon opens up to him? OwO (Birb boy is too underrated)

I agree! I love Toko-kun very very much and he deserves much more love!!! Here is your request, i put it in a scenario format!! I also ephasized the exchange student idea, where the reader isn’t the most fluent with Japanese. I hope you don’t mind this, and I hope you enjoy!!!

Warnings: literally nothing besides like... mentions of the reader being sad

Fumikage Tokoyami with a shy exchange student crush

You were immediately a bit alienated due to your accent and your slightly broken Japanese. It wasn’t that you were bullied or anything. As a matter of fact you found your classmates in 1-A to be much more kind than most kids in your home country. Though, this didnt make you easier to communicate with.

You tended to keep to yourself sadly. You wanted to communicate and chat happily with your classmates, but they spoke so quickly and fluently that you’d have to ask them to slow down to understand. You were sure no one wanted to deal with that, so you decided you’d be doing them a favor by becoming the silent type.

Tokoyami didn’t fancy seeing your sad expression everyday, though.

While he wasn’t the one usually to go out of his way to speak to people (he usually only speaks when spoken to), he couldn’t stand watching you become further and further left behind. It reminded him of how he was at one point when he was younger. So, he choked back his own social anxiety for your sake.

“Can I sit with you?”

You had nearly jumped out of your skin hearing his deep voice speak to you. You had been studying at the lunch table you sat at by yourself when he had approached. You scanned his face for any look of malice. Why would he want to sit with you?

He cocked his head slightly at your stare. You snapped out of your thoughts and turned your head away. Your face grew red as you muttered. “Yes, you may.”

The first interaction between you two had been a bit one sided. You were clearly embarrassed by your accent and your robotic sounding Japanese, but it was something Tokoyami had found fascinating... and even a bit cute. He asked basic ice breakers in the most basic Japanese he could, asking where you were from and your native language and such.

You figured it would be a one time thing, but he kept coming back to you. Didn’t you bother him? How could he want to speak to you when you spoke on the level of a first grader?

After awhile you began to pick up a little on the things he’d say. Perhaps the reason you weren’t so fluent before was because you had no one to speak to in Japanese. Things were getting a bit easier now, and he seemed to be happy to help you understand certain words and how to use them.

Conversations went from cultural differences, to plans for the future, to interests and hobbies. You found yourself getting excited to speak to Tokoyami everyday, always rambling about the things you were passionate about and more. He noticed that your energy had become basically unrecognizable to how you once were. Looking at the sparkles in your pretty eyes as you spoke about your favorite heroes was one of many features Tokoyami was glad to see from you. You were still that shy person who flusters easy, sure, but you were much more energetic now.

He had truly found himself infatuated with you.

“And then I was like ‘gah! You can’t do that! Thats mean!’ And i fricken punched him!!! I have no idea why I thought punching him was a good idea, it was just like the first thing I thought to do!!! And it worked!!!” You spoke excitedly as you walked, Tokoyami at your side. He gave you a small smile in amusement at your wild tone and hand gestures.

The story you told was about your training you had that day. You apparently sparred with Bakugo that day and had managed to do a good bit of damage to him. Tokoyami chuckled a little as he thought about your little form taking on such a guy like Bakugo. He usually didn’t really like to think violent thoughts, but the thought of you giving Bakugo a good sucker punch brought Tokoyami a bit of satisfaction.

“How hard did you hit him?” He asked, trying not to show his morbid curiosity.

“Hard enough to knock him off his feet!! I mean I did get blasted like 40 feet for it after but hey!!!” You said cheerfully, earning another small chuckle from Tokoyami.

The two of you continued walking and chatting. This was a normal thing for you two. Tokoyami always walked you to your door room after classes were over. You don’t remember when this started, but you never really complained, as it was a time for you two to walk and talk, just the two of you.

When you reached your dorm room, Tokoyami bid a small farewell as he continued walking in the direction his was in.

“Wait.”

You called, grabbing him by the sleeve gently. He looked back at you, cocking his head slightly like he always did when confused. You took a deep breath.

“I um... I just wanted to thank you for everything you do for me. If it weren’t for you I wouldn’t have been as happy as I am in this school now.” You said, a soft smile on your face. Tokoyami let out a small sigh as he offered a smile back to you.

“Of course, I couldn’t stand seeing you alone. I didn’t want to see you sad anymore.” He spoke honestly, making you smile even more. You tugged him a little closer, earning a small “huh?” from him.

You pressed a small kiss to the tip of his beak, befor letting go of his sleeve. His face was priceless, a blush managing to burn brightly through his feathers. His feathers seemed to have fluffed themselves up out of shock. He stammered, trying his best to speak, but every word got caught in his throat. You chuckled lightly at the sight of him so flustered. You might have broken the poor thing.

“I’ll talk to you later Toko-kun.” You said softly, offering him a small wave as you entered your dorm room.

“Y-yeah... of course.” He muttered, despite him now being alone in the corridor.

As he walked back to his room, he placed his hand on his beak.

“I want a kiss from [Y/N] next time!” Dark Shadow exclaimed, making Tokoyami nearly jump out of his skin.

“What??? No!!”

“Greedy!!!”

“N-no I’m not!! Go away!!!”

#tokoyami fumikage x reader #fumikage tokoyami x reader #bnha fumikage #bnha tokoyami #tokoyami x reader #fumikage x reader #tokoyami fukimage #x reader requests #x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #request #open requests #requests open #ryu bnha tag

[markedmage]

Ten Truths

Title: Ten Truths

Pairing: Zuko/Katara, Minor Sokka/Suki

Summary:  Something pushes at the edges of Zuko’s consciousness. He remembers all those moments with Katara, the moments of shared silence where she waited, patiently, until he was ready to talk. He remembers how she pulled each little truth from his lips with just her gentle gaze and her willingness to listen without judgment. He remembers how they learned to trust again, in the simple breaths where truth became reality, where he talked and she listened. He looks at her again, sees the gentleness in her eyes, and knows it is time. He’s ready.

Rating: T

Notes: They say Rome wasn't built in a day, but you can bet your ass that this fic was. Partially because I am insane, and don't like to eat, drink or do anything else once the Zutara fix takes hold, but also partially because Zutara are also crazy and I love them and they were begging to be written. That being said, if the flow of this fic is weird, don't blame me. Blame Zutara and the lack of everything nutritious I gave up in order to write this. TBH, I don't even remember most of it, I think my hands and brain just took over and threw a bunch of word vomit onto a document.

I wrote this for the last day of ZutaraMonth, Day 29: Flowers. Uh, not sure how well this follows the prompt exactly. I DID have an idea in mind, but as I said above, this kinda got away from me. But I wanted to participate, and this was the last day, so here ya go.I'm planning on participating in ZutaraWeek as well. I'm so excited- I hope you guys are too. I already have a fic in mind (yes it's already being written) and I plan on incorporating the week's themes once they come out. I hope you guys will read and enjoy my ZutaraWeek submission, as much as you've loved my other stories as well. Thank you guys for all the support.

Posted on AO3 as well. Read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449281

The walls Katara had so meticulously built up around herself slowly crumble. The anger and hatred that she had so callously thrown at Zuko to keep him away from her turn into something else- definitely not trust, not yet, Zuko knows he has a long way before he can reach that pivotal moment with her- but she no longer pierces him with a frozen stare every time they catch each other’s eye, she no longer crushes him with a biting malice every time he offers her his help with the chores. The dynamic between them has changed.

I'll never forgive him. But I am ready to forgive you.

They settle into an easy companionship in the days before the comet. Zuko rises with the sun and settles into his morning meditation. He brews the tea, leaving a small flame under the pot to keep it warm until Katara rises, a little later. She joins him sometimes, sitting in amicable silence, but more often sets about with the day, making breakfast and folding the laundry. By the time Zuko has finished his meditation, Katara has woken the rest of the gang (kids, Zuko thinks, We’ve adopted a family of kids), and has set out a bowl of jook for him. Then Zuko takes Aang for his firebending lessons, followed by lunch, Toph, and Katara later in the day. Zuko spars with Sokka, keeping his dao blades sharp, and trains with Suki in hand-to-hand combat. 

Sometimes, late at night, he sits at the overlook beyond his house, staring out over the calm ocean. He thinks about the last time he’d been here, back when his heart was still troubled and his soul was still split between doing what was right and what he thought he wanted. Sometimes Katara joins him, and it’s so different from the last time they spent a night under the moon (Maybe you can bring my mother back!). She sits with him, close enough he can almost taste the questions on her lips, but she never asks. He knows she’s desperate to speak, curiosity burning in those deep blue eyes of hers, but the thing he loves the most about Katara is that she always seems to know when he’s ready to talk, and so she waits until she knows. 

It’s something he’s always loved about her- the easy way she simply waits until he’s ready, unlike Sokka and Toph and Aang, who talk and talk and ask and badger him with questions until he feels like he may explode. He loves the gang, he really does- the loyalty, the love, the friendship- but so much exploration into his personal life can be too much for him to bear sometimes. 

But with Katara it’s different. Silence- which once held so much pain and fear in Zuko’s heart- becomes the thing he relishes the most with her. He finds peace in the calmness of quiet, tranquility settling in his soul in the heartbeat of Katara’s breaths. In the soothing serenity of Katara’s presence, Zuko feels his heart stitching itself back together, and every day that passes he feels himself falling a little bit back into the person he wants to be. He thinks he’s ready. 

Ready to let someone in.

________________________________________________________________

Zuko feels his peaceful world, the one he so desperately created around him, the one built on friendship and companionship, crumble around him at the weight of Aang’s words. “About Sozin's Comet... I was actually going to wait to fight the Fire Lord until after it came.  I'm not ready.”

It’s his worst nightmare really. Of course Aang needs more time to practice firebending, and he agrees with Toph- his earthbending really needs some work as well. But he remembers with dreadful clarity what his father planned before the invasion, the cruelty of the plan and the morbid fear in his heart of what was to come.

“Things can’t get any worse,” Katara says, and the pain in Zuko’s heart weighs heavier on his chest. 

“You’re wrong,” Zuko says, and even his voice sounds hollow with despair. “It's about to get worse than you can even imagine.”

He tells them about Ozai’s plan. The plan to crush the Earth Kingdom’s hope, to bury it’s very foundation under an inferno of ash and destruction. He watches the hope die in their eyes, replaced by a growing seed of fear. Sokka looks devastated, Suki looks terrified. Toph’s, for once, speechless, Aang looks hopeless, and Katara looks stricken, looking at him with eyes filled with terror and concern. She reaches out a hand, but one look from Zuko has her dropping it, stepping back with lowered eyes.

Zuko knows how much this hurts everyone, how much it hurts him. But as he looks at them, the brave Water tribe soldier, the Kyoshi Warrior, the Beifong Heiress, the Avatar, and the greatest Waterbender he’s ever met, he knows he’ll do anything to protect them. And right now, that’s making sure they defeat his father, no matter the cost. “I know you're scared,” He says, placing a hand on Aang’s shoulder. The boy looks up at him with scared eyes, and Zuko remembers when he looked at his father the same way. Only this time, Zuko is not his father, and he won’t hurt a young boy just for speaking his mind. He smiles encouragingly at Aang. “And I know that you're not ready to save the World. But if you don't defeat the Fire Lord before the comet comes, there won't be a World to save anymore.”

That seems to be the right thing to say, and he sees the fire once again burn in Aang’s eyes. Sokka once again shines with the energy of his people, and he raises a fist in the air. “Team Avatar is back!”

Zuko smiles, and lowers his head as Sokka continues to crow with excitement. But a little part of him can’t help but be afraid, be afraid for the people he’s come to love and cherish as his own family. And when he raises his eyes once more, he finds himself being stared down by Katara’s watchful gaze, and knows she feels it too.

________________________________________________________________

She finds him later that night, sitting under a sky full of stars. He makes no inclination that he’s heard her, but she comes over to him anyway, sitting down next to him. He blinks, then pulls his gaze from the heavens to look at her. She’s staring out over the water, hands folded neatly in her lap. Even under the pale moonlight, he can see the reds and golds of her silk robe standing out against the rich caramel of her skin, and he finds himself thinking that the rich colors of his nation suit her well.

(Red symbolizes passion and power, represents the Fire Nation. But Zuko wishes to tell the world that red symbolizes Katara, symbolizes the strength in her limbs and the power in her heart, the desire and will to do what is right and to never give up on people who need her. Katara may be of the Water Tribe, but her heart burns with the fire of a thousand suns.)

He turns his eyes back to the sky, and sees her do the same. They sit in silence for a moment, and Zuko finds himself unable to bear the silence (a silence that he’s always craved from her). “When I was younger, my mother used to tell me stories of the stars,” he begins, and raises a hand to trace out a constellation. Katara’s eyes trace his fingers, and he maps out the Azure Dragon of the Fire Nation. “The Azure Dragon is the guardian of all the stars,” he recites. “The dragon was created by Agni so that he could rest during the night. Under the watchful gaze of Tui and the Azure Dragon, Agni sleeps, and the dragon circles the night sky, ever watchful for danger against his master.”

Zuko looks back at Katara, then chuckles awkwardly and scratches the back of his head awkwardly. Katara’s gaze is too bright, too warm, too knowing, and he feels like she is taking him apart bit by bit. “Of course, that’s just a story my mother used to tell me.”

Her eyes soften, and she rests a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You must have loved your mother very much,” she says, and his shoulders sag.

“Yes,” he says, raising a hand to his face, touching the scar that mars the side of his face. “I loved her more than anything in the world.” Katara’s gaze follows his hand, landing on his scar. She raises her other hand and cups his cheek, resting her palm over his fingers. “Your father gave that to you, did he?” she breathes.

Zuko’s heart stutters to a stop in his chest, and gasps, long and low in his throat. He meets Katara’s gaze, half expecting disgust, anger, hatred, to be swimming in the blue depths of her eyes, but he’s only met with compassion. She smiles at him, and he knows that she won’t press him if he doesn’t want to, that she’ll give him space if he needs it, but Zuko knows this is a story he has to tell. She deserves to know.

“Truth,” he says, and meets her kind eyes. He tells her the story of a young boy, a young prince, who stood up for the soldiers who didn’t have a voice, how he expected to face the general he dishonored in the Agni Kai- how it was his own father who maimed him. Suffering shall be your teacher.

By the time he’s finished there are tears pooling in Katara’s sky blue gaze. “Oh, Zuko,” she whispers, and leans over, pulling her into his arms. She buries her head in his neck and holds him tight, her shoulders shaking. “You should have never had to go through that.”

He buries his face in her hair, inhales the sweet scent of wind and rain, and Katara. She didn’t say I’m sorry, but she didn’t need to. Zuko has had enough pity in his life, and once again, Katara knows exactly the right thing to say to put him at ease. So he holds onto her, he clings to her, and relishes in this moment- this one fragment of time where everything feels right, where he is home and the person he cherishes the most is here with him, under the watchful gaze of Tui and the Azure Dragon.

________________________________________________________________

They share another moment after June has led them to the outskirts of Ba Sing Se. They make camp for the night, and longer after Sokka and the others have turned in for the night, Zuko joins Katara to sit by the fire. He pokes at the embers and convinces the flames back to life, and Katara smiles at him, and places her hands closer for the warmth. They sit in the companionable silence Zuko knows all too well, until Toph appears in an explosion of earth, screaming, “Someone’s coming!”

It’s chaos, and suddenly their tiny camp is surrounded in a ring of flames. But just as quickly as the flames come roaring to life, they die down, and Zuko recognizes Jeong-Jeong, and Master Piandao, and suddenly they're surrounded by the order of the White Lotus. And his uncle is in the Lotus camp, waiting for him.

He finds himself standing outside the tent of the Grand Lotus. It makes sense that his uncle holds the title- he’s the most righteous individual the Fire Nation ever produced, and balance between the four nations was one of the things he stressed the most in life (that and tea). He sits in front of the tent, and he doesn’t know how to bring himself to enter. The last time he saw his uncle, he was sitting in a jail cell, left to rot. The last time he met his uncle’s gaze was at the crossroads of his destiny, of the avatar’s, of Katara’s, in the old city of Ba Sing Se. Shame courses his veins, shame from all those months ago, in the same place, rises up and threatens to overwhelm him. 

A hand on his shoulder brings him back to reality, and he blinks while Katara sits next to him. She’s dressed in the blues of her nation, but her eyes still burn with that fire that threatens to set the world alight. 

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly, the hand resting on his shoulder providing a quiet comfort that Zuko leans into. He turns his head away and sighs, eyes fixed on the lotus symbol painted across his uncle’s tent.

“No,” he says finally. “My Uncle hates me, I know it. He loved me and supported me in every way he could and I still turned against him. How can I even face him?

Katara sighs, and Zuko can feel her heartbeat pounding to the rhythm of his own. “You’re sorry for what happened?” she says, looking at him with her clear gaze. “In the catacombs?”

He’s more sorry than he’s ever been in his life. Of all the people in the world, uncle Iroh was the only one who saw him for who he was, who supported him no matter the cost, and followed him to the end of the world and back. He betrayed the only person who loved him, mistakes and all. Sorry can’t even begin to describe how Zuko feels.

(Shame, anger, frustration, disgust, guilt. Sorrow)

He looks at Katara. Another person who was willing to love him through the scars. Another person he’s hurt. Another person he’s betrayed. “More sorry than I've been about anything in my entire life.”

Another truth, about his uncle, about the Avatar, about her. Judging from the look in her eyes, she knows. She understands, knows how truthful he’s being (not just about his uncle). Katara smiles, and leans over, kissing him on the cheek, over his scar. He jolts, but she pulls back, and the fond look in her eyes is enough for Zuko (he thinks he can conquer the world on the sole basis of that look).

“Then he'll forgive you. He will.”

The strength she offers- the quiet, enduring support and kindness- is enough to send Zuko through the flaps in the tent. And later, when his uncle wakes and pulls him into a high, her strength is what brings him to tears, with how can you forgive me so easily? I thought you would be furious with me falling easily from his lips. Partially for his uncle, and partially for her.

________________________________________________________________

Katara’s not the person who shows weakness easily. If it’s anyone, Zuko thinks it’s Sokka. He’s a strong, brave soul, but he’s still a teenager, and the idea of taking on the Fire Lord without the possibility of Aang there frightens him-Zuko can see it in his soul. But Katara’s always been such a solid, reassuring presence to the gang, and Zuko doesn’t really know what to do when he finds her overlooking the city, and she looks so utterly broken.

“Wherever he is, I’m sure he’ll be alright,” Zuko says, placing a hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him and smiles at him, though her eyes are watery and she looks so small.

“I know,” she says, sniffling and wiping her eyes. “I’m just so scared though. The whole world is relying on us, and I just don’t know what I’d do if any of you got hurt. Especially you.”

He blinks, and she laughs at his expression. “Yes, even you. That’s the truth,” she says. “I know what facing Azula means to you, what it means to me, but I can’t help but feel terrified.” She leans in and rests her forehead against Zuko’s chest, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”

Ba Sing Se.

He closes his eyes and pulls her tight, wrapping his arms around the small of her back and holding her close. “You won’t lose me,” he breathes, stroking her hair. “I know you’re scared, and I’ve never been more terrified in my life. I have to face Azula.”

She nods into his chest, and Zuko pulls away, but holds her by the shoulders and meets her gaze, gold boring into blue. “But this I know is true,” he says. “There is no one else I trust with my life than you, Katara. And you’re the one I want by my side when I bring my treacherous sister to her knees.”

_______________________________________________________________

Later, when they’re flying over the Fire Nation, Zuko turns to Katara with fear in his heart. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he wants her safe, that no matter what he’ll protect her, that he’ll die to make sure she survives, but he doesn’t know how. Katara makes eye contact with him and misreads his fear, saying, “Zuko, don’t worry, we can take Azula.”

He blinks, and shoves away the feelings simmering under his skin, looking up at the sky, Sozin’s Comet painting it bloodred. “I’m not worried about her,” he says, truthfully, after a moment. “I’m worried about Aang. What if he doesn’t have the guts to take out my father? What if he loses?” Katara looks away. “Aang won’t lose,” she says quietly. “He’s coming back. He has to.” She turns her fierce gaze back on him, and smiles grimly. “And so will you.”

He almost doesn’t believe her, especially when he’s lying on the ground at the palace, his tunic in tatters and his skin painted red with blood. Lightning courses through his veins, and he laments in the fact that he broke his promise to Katara, that there’s no way he can possible come back, that she’s going to lose him too, again, just like last time-

And she saves him, glowing water gloved on her hands and tears of joy and love in her eyes. He whispers, “Thank you, Katara,” and when she says “I think I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he thinks he’s fallen in love for the first time. 

When they stand over Azula, the broken princess, he almost doesn’t recognize her. He turns away, his heart turning to ash when he realizes that Ozai broke her as much as he broke him, Katara follows him. “I was so worried about you,” she breathes, cupping his face. “When you fell, I was so scared. I’ve never felt more scared for you in my life.”

He looks at her. “Me too,” he says, and takes her hand in his. “I was so scared for you. Katara, it wasn’t my life that I was worried about, but yours. I couldn’t let Azula hurt you.”

Her eyes fall to the burn scored across his chest. “You didn’t have to take lightning for me, Zuko.”

He breathes, and takes their hands, placing their entwined fingers on his burn. “I’d take the heat of a thousand suns for you, Katara,” he whispers, the truth of his words burning deep into his skin, deeper than his scars. “You must know that.”

Her eyes lower, and he leans forward, pressing his forehead into hers. “But you brought me back. You didn’t have to. Why?”

She smiles, tears pouring out of her eyes, and leans forward. “You know why,” she breathes, and kisses him.

(With sudden clarity he knows she’s telling the truth.)

________________________________________________________________

And suddenly, just like that, peace is the new normal. Aang comes back, bringing Ozai in his custody, and tells everyone how a giant lion-turtle taught him how to spiritbend (“Only you,” Toph says, and punches him).

Zuko is crowned Firelord. On the eve of his coronation, he finds Katara in his mother’s garden, feeding bits of bread to the turtleducks (he’s hit with such a wave of nostalgia that he stumbles under the weight of his mother’s love, of the memories of a young boy sitting with his mother feeding the turtleducks). 

Katara looks over to him and smiles, beckoning him to join her. He sits by the water’s edge, taking the bread she offers and tossing it into the water. Lulled by the quacking of the turtleducks and the peace of Katara’s presence, Zuko feels his shoulders lift from under the burden of ruling a broken kingdom. There’s so much he needs to do, to restore the Fire Nation to its former glory.

Katara nudges him, making him meet her gaze. “What’s up?” she asks, piercing him with her blue eyes. “You look troubled.

(He wants to tell her he loves her. He wants to tell her that she is his Azure Dragon, that she’s the one person in the world he wants by his side.)

But what comes out of his mouth is: “I don’t love Mai.”

She blinks. “What?” she says, after a moment.

He sighs. “It’s the truth,” he whispers. “Mai, earlier, she came to me, right before the coronation. She told me she loved me, and wanted to be with me.” Katara’s eyes are on him, but they’re not judging him, and he finds solace in the gentleness of her gaze. She rests her hand on his arm, and he wordlessly takes her hand, lacing his fingers through hers and marveling at the contrast of their skin color overlapping, brown and white. She smiles, encouragingly.

“It’s just, Mai was in love with someone who I used to be,” he confesses. “Someone I once was, back when I let anger and hatred fuel me. She was in love with a boy who was scared of his sister and weak against his father, who turned on his friends and the family who actually loved him. I’m not that person, not anymore. I can’t be with her- I don’t love her anymore. Not that way.”

Katara’s eyes soften. “I think that was very brave of you,” she whispers. He turns and blinks at her, and she smiles, looking back down at the pond. “Think of it this way. When you disturb the water-” she dips a hand in the pond and ripples spread out from where her fingers danced across the tranquil surface “-it creates chaos, and imbalances the real support that lies under the surface. But once the ripples fade, then the pond can go back to being what it always has been, peaceful, still, and sure.” She waves a hand and the water stills, turning back into a clear, shimmering pond that reflects the moon, Katara, and Zuko. She smiles and leans forward, pointing at Zuko’s mirror image reflected on the water. “This is who you are, Zuko.” She says. “This is what you’ve always been.”

He stares at the quiet reflection of himself. “You wouldn’t have been happy with her,” Katara continues. “And that doesn’t mean you don’t love her, because you do. But there’s a difference between loving someone for what they were and loving someone for who they are. And you’re not the person you used to be, Zuko. I know that to be true.”

He turns and pulls her close, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Oh, Katara,” he breathes. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

It’s not what he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how to tell her his true feelings, at least not yet. And luckily, she is Katara, and he knows she’ll wait until he’s ready. Just like she always has been.

She smiles. “For the record,” she says, squeezing his hand. “I’m glad you’re not in love with her either.”

That pulls a laugh from him, and he pulls her close, feeling his soul stitch together under her healing gaze.

________________________________________________________________

They’re walking through the marketplace when Aang spots a flower vendor. He drags Katara over, and Zuko and Sokka, followed by Toph, creep over as well. Zuko stands passively while Sokka oogles over the variety, finally settling on a bouquet of sun roses to bring to Suki. Toph sulks next to him, and when the vendor tries to woo her over with some flowers, she silences him with an “I’m blind,” and a smack in the face with a pebble. He shuts up quickly after that, and Zuko stifles a chuckle (the last time he didn’t, he too got wacked with a rock, and he’s not rushing to repeat that again).

He ends up hovering near where Aang is gushing over the panda lily display. “Look, Katara,” he says. “They’re beautiful, just like you!”

Zuko bristles, because Katara isn’t Aang’s, she doesn’t belong to him, she can’t. But Katara is her own person, and she looks at the lilies with distaste. “They’re fine, Aang,” she says in her most dismissive tone (and Zuko cannot be any more prouder). She turns away from Aang, not seeing his shoulders slump, and continues to browse the flowers.

On a whim, Zuko turns to the display and picks out his favorite, a small fire lily, the rich ruby a reminder of Katara’s fierce passion. He drops the vendor a few coins and turns, walking over to where Katara stands. She looks up, eyes widening up Zuko’s arrival. “Here,” he says, reaching forward and placing it in her hair, right behind her ear. “This suits you.”

Her eyes widen, and she reaches up, touching the flower reverently. “Zuko,” she breathes, leaning up and hugging him. “I love it.” She leans in. “These are my favorite.”

He smiles, and nuzzles her hair softly, before stepping back. He catches a glimpse of Aang’s sad eyes in his periphery, but then Katara’s smooth hand slips into his, and the Avatar is forgotten.

________________________________________________________________

The moment Katara comes to him, tears falling from her eyes, Zuko is ready to drown whoever hurt her in an inferno of his rage. He’s in his mother’s garden (hiding from his advisors- they would never bother him here), when she comes storming in like a tsunami and throws herself into him, tears cascading down her rich brown cheeks like a waterfall. Zuko drops what he’s doing immediately- composing a letter to King Kuei, that can wait- and wraps his arms around her, rubbing her back while she lets out choking sobs.

He lets her cry, holding her close while she buries herself in his chest and releases her misery to the world. He’s got half a mind to find whoever hurt her and have them tried for war crimes, but then she pulls away, and he finds that he can’t rip himself away from her sad gaze. There’s a fire lily in her hair and the words they’re my favorite float around in his mind, but he focuses on the tears falling from her eyes and tries to figure out who in their right mind would do this to her-

“Aang,” she whispers, and in choking, heaving breaths, she tells him that Aang kissed her, that he told her he loved her, and wanted her to travel the world with him. Zuko grows cold, feels his heart come stuttering to a halt, and thinks his world is about to be destroyed.

She can’t go with him, he thinks, heart tearing into pieces. Agni, she can’t go with him.

“Katara-”

“I can’t go with him,” she wails, interrupting Zuko. “I can’t go with him and I’ve hurt him and it hurts so much, and I don’t know what to do!”

He cups her cheek and holds her close. “You don’t have to go with him,” he whispers (he begs). “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“But I broke his heart! I told him I didn’t love him!”

A part of Zuko rejoices at that, but he pushes that wave down and concentrates on soothing Katara. “Katara,” he says firmly, and she hiccups, looking at him with wide eyes. “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do,” he repeats slowly. “It’s your life, your love to give out. Never let anyone take it from you. Only you have the power to give it. Even Aang, as young as he is, does not have the right to take your love. He’s twelve years old, Katara, he doesn’t even really know what love is. He’ll be fine.”

Katara’s eyes lower, and a single tear runs down her cheek. “I wanted to love him,” she confesses. “I wanted to be his, I really did. But I just...don’t.” Zuko runs his finger over her cheek. “And that’s okay,” he whispers. “But it’s okay to know exactly what you want, and if you know you don’t want to be with him, then don’t. You’re your own person, Katara. Aang will respect that.” She shudders, and closes her eyes. “I don’t love him,” she whispers, and the truth of it seems to sink in. She opens her eyes, and although there’s still sadness, Zuko also sees resolution and tact in her gaze. “I don’t love him.”

Something pushes at the edges of Zuko’s consciousness. He remembers all those moments with Katara, the moments of shared silence where she waited, patiently, until he was ready to talk. He remembers how she pulled each little truth from his lips with just her gentle gaze and her willingness to listen without judgment. He remembers how they learned to trust again, in the simple breaths where truth became reality, where he talked and she listened. He looks at her again, sees the gentleness in her eyes, and knows it is time. He’s ready.

“I don’t want you to be with him,” he blurts out, and her eyes widen. He takes her by the hand and pulls her close, drowning in the blue depths of her eyes-eyes which had never held him in contempt (once sadness and anger, but never contempt)- and has never felt more sure in his entire life. “I don’t want you to be with him, Katara, because I want you to be with me.”

Her mouth opens. “Are you serious?” she breathes, and Zuko nods, clarity in his heart and serenity in his soul.

“I’ve never been more sure in my entire life,” he says. “Katara, there is no one else I want by my side. Please, say you’ll stay with me. Please.”

She looks at him, really looks at him. She’s quiet for a moment. “I don’t love Aang,” she says. She rests a hand on Zuko’s cheek, caressing his scar lovingly. “Because I love you. I’ve always loved you, Zuko,” she whispers, and it feels like coming home.

It's always been you.

________________________________________________________________

There are fire lilies at the ceremony. They adorn the throne room, sit in bouquets in Suki’s, Toph’s, and Ty Lee’s laps, fill the vases at the dinner tables. Sokka has a fire lily pinned to his tunic, and Aang has a necklace of them ringing his neck. Zuko has one pinned to his robes, and there are fire lilies in her hair.

They are joined as one under the eyes of Agni, and Zuko pins the crown of the Firelady to her topknot. She’s wearing the reds of his-their-people, but the blue of her homeland hugs her throat. She kisses him, hands clasped tightly to his, and the nation cheers at their joining. 

During the celebration ball, he spins her around in the courtroom, her dress billowing out around her, her joyful laugh tinkling like bells. Zuko is the happiest he’s ever been, surrounded by family and friends, in the arms of a woman who loves him. 

And later, when they’re out by the turtleduck pond and he’s tucking a loose fire lily behind her ear, she looks up at him, love burning in her blue eyes. This is all he's ever wanted- peace in the world and love in his arms. This is what he needs, his beautiful Azure Dragon, and nothing else. She leans close and cups his cheek.

“You love me,” she whispers.

He leans in, kisses her softly, tasting their future on her tongue. 

“Truth.”

Notes: Ok, so I know Zuko was lowkey cheesy throughout this fic, but lets be honest. Boy literally used his firebending to light up a fountain to impress a girl- this kid's cheesy as heck and you cannot change my mind. 

I tried to keep the truths mostly to Zuko, but Katara is my girl and she couldn't help but bleed through in a couple places.Anyway, thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you thought. Also, please don't hesitate to talk to me so that we may revel in the beauty that is Zutara. 

See you for ZutaraWeek (UNLESS I find inspiration for another story, which, let's be honest, I most likely will).

#zutara #zuko #katara #zutara month #wolfspirit44 on ff.net #my fav ship #zukoxkatara #zutara month 2020 #zutara fanfiction

[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll Chapter Two

Read on AO3

“Mrs. Randall, ye have a visitor.” Claire stared at the nurse, curiosity plain on her face. 

 She left and softly closed the door behind her. Minutes later, Claire heard the click of the lock again and strained her neck towards the noise. 

 Graham smiled sheepishly as he shuffled into her room. He held a small bouquet of heather, thistles, and gorse wrapped in twine. 

 “Hello miss, tis lovely tae see ye again. I picked these just this afternoon on my way here. I was lucky they were all so close together.” The boy searched the room and put the flowers in the empty vase on the table to her right. “I don’t know if ye remember, but I found you up at the standing stones. Well my mam always said to watch out for the faerie hill but I was a wee bit curious ye ken. I’m glad I took a wander over because… sorry miss my mam always tells me how I go blethering on about nonsense and such so that’s just to say I hope you are feeling better miss..?” 

 “Claire Fr.. err Randall.” Claire couldn’t help the smile at the young man's youth and almost naïveté, it was a breath of fresh air compared to the ordeals of the past months.

 She reached out her hand for him to shake. 

 “It was very kind of you to come visit Graham. Thank you.” He blushed at her compliment.

 “Well I brought some cards because I ken how boring it is to be locked up in one of these rooms. And the radio is a pounding nuisance sometimes as well. Last year I stumbled on one of the fence posts I was putting up when I was helping down at auld Hamish’s. The nail went straight through the leg and I ended up here a day. Mam was absolutely furious at me, boxed my ears till they rang for weeks. My mam’s a nurse here so it’s no trouble at all that I’m here right now visiting. I guess I get special insider privileges. I come here after school to do my schoolwork and she says I’m no bother. That’s what I was just doing before I decided to pop in here Miss.”

 Claire welcomed the ramblings of Graham. It was a nice distraction to the morbid thoughts that lay festering below.

 “Well I appreciate the company. My… husband just left to prepare things for our short stay here. I’m sorry I’m rubbish at most card games, but I’ll go my hand at it.” 

 The two chatted companionably and he even managed to pry out a laugh or two from her. Claire pushed down feelings of familiarity of Fergus and the boy before her. He couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than the boy she had just left behind hours ago, with the same long-lashed dark eyes and dark hair. Tears sprung at the thought of her son and she turned out of view to wipe them away. 

 “Do you have any fours?” Graham interrupted her thoughts. 

 “Ach! It feels like I’m being cheated here.” Claire flashed a smile and pushed forward the two cards on the table between them.

 “Hello darling. It seems you’ve made a new friend.”

 Claire stiffened at her husband's entrance into the small hospital room. Graham flicked his gaze between the two of them, sensing the tension. He awkwardly picked up the game in front of them and shoved the cards into his pocket.  

 “Yes. This is Graham Munro, the one who helped me to the hospital.”

 “Thank you for bringing my wife safely back into my custody Graham. I’m sure she has lots to tell me, and would appreciate time to rest.”

 Graham cleared his throat. “Well Miss Claire, I wish ye a speedy recovery. Twas a pleasure to meet ye.” 

 “You as well Graham. Thank you for the flowers.”

 The boy reached out to squeeze Claire’s hand and smiled warmly. He turned on his heel and raced out to the corridor. 

 Moments later, Frank shoved the table to the side and knelt by his wife’s side. He reached out to hold the hands that rested on her lap. Claire flinched at his touch once again and Frank furrowed his brow. Frank felt a squeeze in his hand and smiled up at her. She put on a strained smile as she stared down at him. He finally noticed the silver that encircled her right ring finger and made to take it off. She pulled her hand violently from his grasp and guarded the jewellry to her chest. He pushed off the reaction to the shock the doctor had described. He just needed to be patient. 

 “Darling, everything is prepared at the manse for our arrival. You’ll rest here tonight, recover, heal, and then I’ll bring you over in the morning. I left your suitcase there and I’m sure you’ll have enough to get you through our stay.” He walked over to a chair near the window while he spoke and placed her stays in his hands. 

 “Alright.” Her gaze was transfixed on her fingers in her lap. 

 “This is… remarkable Claire, where on earth did you find these?” 

 “Hmph.” Claire offered as a reply, almost mimicking the Scottish noise her husband always made.

 “Right I’m to leave with Reverend Wakefield to visit over some archives again. You’ll be in good hands here for now.” 

 A nurse wheeled in a cart and instructed Claire to rest. She gathered the sterile bandages from the metal tray and pulled back the cover of Claire’s hospital gown to display the burns flicking across the cream skin of her stomach. She winced as the nurse applied the salve against her sore skin so she took pity on her poor patient. The nurse pushed a syringe into her IV line and Claire’s limbs instantly relaxed. Her head filled with cotton and she wasn’t able to hold it up herself, until she let go of the tension within herself and slumped down on the stiff mattress. 

 It was cold and she was only in her shift, a white shawl draped across her shoulders. Piles of men dotted the ground and a bunny twitched its nose at her before sprinting away. There, underneath the corpse of his enemy, lay her husband. His body was covered in blood and crusted with dirt and deep scratches marked his body: the result of war. 

 “Are you alive?” She stretched her hand out towards his cheek.  

 Her hand cupped his stumbled jaw and his skin blazed against hers. The fever shook his body and sapped his energy. What little he had left was spent twisting his neck in her direction. A light dusting of snow covered the bloody grass of the moor. All too soon, she was pulled away and the sight of him faded from her grasp. 

***

The hours passed and the logs burned to small sticks, Frank replacing them every so often with new wood. He turned towards the table that held a half-empty glass, plying himself more and more with alcohol as the glass drowned in the weight of the drink. Claire worked tirelessly the precious few days where her husband hadn’t yet pressed her for an explanation, flipping through all available resources to find any trace of Jamie. Mrs. Graham had been a wonder in helping Claire but her attitude regardless would not have changed anything. The search was futile and failed to bring what she wanted. She couldn’t look for the family that was alive that she had left behind. The sacrifice and promise she made meant nothing with the outcome that soon became her every thought. She abandoned them all for a thought of a future, not even a live, breathing one.

 She spoke of her time with Jamie, reluctantly giving only the necessary pieces of her life, an outline that she would be able to view events from outside. She stepped out of her life and watched herself ramble on, an outsider and onlooker to a tragic event. That wasn’t her, those things couldn’t have happened to her. Claire finished her final thoughts in a daze, looking anywhere but Frank. 

 “Give me-excuse me please Claire I need some time to think this over.”

 Claire poured another glass for herself and slammed the burning liquid back along with a large pill from the hospital.

 Frank returned a few hours later, having thought in great depth. Claire’s thoughts were muddled. She couldn’t remember how many glasses she had.

 “Claire I can accept that you’ve had this… relationship with this man. I will never understand your feelings for him, but I can accept that you had this experience, and that leaving him broke your heart.” 

 “I don’t think you understand. I was with a man for two years, and I loved him deeply as his wife.” 

 “A point you’ve made several times and which I’ve said I understand. Now let me tell you this. I love you Claire, unconditionally, nothing you could do could stop my loving you.” 

 “Darling I’ve been offered a position at Harvard. I was thinking we could move to Boston together. Start over. Leave all...this behind.”

 She didn’t care. He was dead. She might as well have been too. Frank could do as he bloody well pleased. Her mind focused on the patterns of the carpet below her, forcing out any other thoughts. Her finger swirled in spirals in one spot on her thigh, mimicking what she saw.

 “Alright. ” 

 That was the first time Claire had looked into his eyes since her disappearance. His brown eyes were soft and crinkled in an attempt towards a smile to his wife. She couldn’t find the malice she desperately searched for. She needed the anger, the sharp coldness. It was too much. Frank kneeled at Claire’s feet and he reached to pull her down into his embrace. He brought her down to his chest. She stiffened. 

 “Claire, you've made me so happy. I know we’ll be happy. Together.” 

 “T-together? You mean for me to come along?” 

 “Of course, darling. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

 Claire only nodded in response. She knew she’d never be happy with Frank anymore, or anyone for that matter. She didn’t intend to live long, but what option did she have to resist a husband? Frank kissed her curls and pulled her head to his shoulder. He sniffled and pulled back, placing both hands gently on her face. 

 “But we must put the past behind us. You must promise me. No more searching for him. Let him go.”

 “Yes. That’s what he made me promise.” She was reminded of another promise she had broken and another pang stabbed her already distressed heart.

#jamie fraser #claire fraser #jamie x claire #outlander fanfiction #frank randall #craigh na dun #fergus fraser #canon divergence #outlander fanfic

[nerd2614]

April’s Fall - Part 4

Doors, Vials & Names

@write-it-motherfuckers​ original prompt

Part 1 // Part 3 // Part 5

You did not sleep well that night. There was tension in the air so thick you could almost taste it. The lump that the pouch of tools made in your already uncomfortable mattress didn’t help either. Grandmother’s rattling around in the kitchen jolted you out of your restless slumber when the sun had barely risen. She only woke up this early when she needed to fetch things from the woods. It would be the perfect opportunity to investigate without being caught. The dull thud of the door announced her departure. When you were sure she wouldn’t return, you made your way carefully downstairs to the door.

Hopeful, you twisted the handle to the door, but was unsurprised when it didn’t budge. The door itself was made of sturdy wood; it would be too difficult to just break it down. The door lock was not dissimilar to the front door. You tried your key and was only slightly disappointed when it didn’t work either.

You fished out the tools given to you and laid them on the ground. They were of much better quality than the ones you had purchased from the blacksmith. Hazy was the only way you could describe them. It almost looked like you could reach through the tools, but they were solid. Magic. You picked up a long tool with ridges along the edge and another that had a slight hook. With a deep breath, you jiggled them around in the lock and hoped for the best.

The door shimmered as the pins fell into place and the lock clicked open. You slipped the tools back into the pouch carefully. Taking a deep breath, you nudged the door open. A chill rushed out of the room. You felt ill. An eerie green light coming from deeper in was the only source combating the foreboding darkness of the room. The darkness seemed to ooze out the door to settle heavily in your bones.

“Definitely not a cloak closet.” You mumbled. As you flicked on the dim light the darkness slowly retreated to reveal shelves lined with an assortment of books and jars. A cold feeling washed over you as you stepped over the threshold. The soft green light glowed from symbols both painted and carved into the room. They covered the roof and large wooden shelves. You walked further into the icy room and it seemed to stretch on forever. The stone was icy cold beneath your feet. You took a closer look at one of the jars and gagged. Inside was a shriveled, severed hand with the fingernails torn off.

The room radiated death and evil. You started to back out of the room when a table through the bookshelves caught your eyes. Sitting on the table was the small vial of swirling clouds. You were certain it was the same one that the kindly old man had given you. With a strengthened resolve you strode towards the table. The tools you purchased from the blacksmith were sitting on the pouch they came in. Various other items were scattered on the bench. You could only guess at their purpose.

What could only be described as a cauldron was sitting on a bed of emerald flames to the right of the table. Inside was a simmering clear liquid. You lent down to take a closer look when the notes behind it caught your attention. The board was littered with diagrams, scribbled notes and photographs.

“Getting suspicious… measures to be introduced ...up the dosage… what?” You stepped closer to the board. The notes were about you! The liquid in the cauldron must be what your grandmother had been giving you. You skimmed over the rest of the notes quickly to discover exactly what it was. Memories were mentioned a few times but the exact purpose of the clear liquid wasn’t explicitly written.

A deep feeling of dread filled you as you continued to read the messy scrawl. ‘Inject while sleeping’ followed by a number of question marks made you thankful that you hadn’t been sleeping well.

Shouts from outside broke you from your thoughts.

You turned and bumped against a shelf that looked like it had ingredients stacked in it. The stench radiating from the shelf made you want to pull away but morbid curiosity pulled you closer. Eyeballs, pointed ears and various small animals were floating in jars. There was a vial of powder labelled fairy wings. On the bottom shelf was a beating heart the size of an adult wombat. The slow thumping of the heart was sending shivers through you.

Your eyes darted to the door as the shouting from outside abruptly stopped. Heavy footsteps made the floor creak as someone barged into the house. You could hear the front door slam against the wall. Whoever had barged in was breathing loudly and raggedly. As the footsteps came closer, you dove behind one of the shelves and attempted to control your breathing.

The brief hope that the intruder was your stranger was dashed as the person let out a dark chuckle from the doorway. You curled in on yourself, forcing your body to become as small as possible. Your breaths were coming in shallow bursts. You could feel your blood thrumming through your fingertips as you clenched them tighter. The person stepped inside the room and closed the door.

“Tsk, tsk. Now you’re trapped.” The person, a young man, spoke mockingly. “You know that curiosity killed the cat… but don’t worry. I’ll do my best to convince the old bat to let you live.”

He stepped forward slowly, in time with the thumping of the detached heart in your line of sight. Thump. Thump. Thump. He was walking towards the table. You debated making a run for it but your body was too tense to move.

Through the shelf you saw the young man pick up the vial from the table. He scoffed as he slipped it into his pocket. “I’m surprised you didn’t take it already, April. I would have if I was in your position.”

He turned and smirked at you through the shelves. Cold tendrils of fear mingled with the recognition that flooded through you at the sight of his face. It was the new librarian. Your wrists ached in remembrance while your mind raced with questions. His smirk turned sadistic as he rose from his crouched position.

You scrambled against the stone to dart away as he calmly walked around the bookcase. You almost made it to the door when he caught you. He spun you into the wall, winding you. The shelves and the pouch pressed uncomfortably into your back.

“Get off me! Let me go!” Shuddering breaths rocked through you as you tried in vain to squirm away.

“No.” His rancid breath paralised you as much as his response. You continued to struggle, albeit weakly, against his painful hold. “You’re just too stubborn, aren’t ya? Always were.” He added with an almost fond tone. It made you gag.

You heard a female voice outside along with the voice that was shouting earlier. Now he was almost screaming, though you couldn’t make out any words. The librarian pinning you down chuckled sinisterly, “Looks like the old bat is home.”

He looked down at you with cruelty in his blue eyes. “Alas, fair April, I must go tend to a stray.” He tried to kiss you, but you dodged out of the way. His lips burned against your cheek, leaving you feeling dirty. He tutted and threw you to the ground. “Stay here. That’s a good girl.”

The slamming of the door jolted you out of your daze. Escape was the only thought racing through your mind. You creaked open the door to see what was happening.

Just outside the front door, your grandmother and the librarian were conversing. Your elven stranger was hanging limp in the air. Ruby red blood made its way in rivulets down his face and through his hair, dripping onto the ground. Your grandmother looked strangely calm covered in blood. She almost looked bored. You froze as your grandmother made eye contact with you. The elven man crashed into the ground, a deadweight, as your grandmother stalked towards the house. You saw him twitch as the librarian kicked and taunted him.

The only way to put distance between you and the evil being that was your grandmother was to escape upstairs. So escape you did. You scrambled up the stairs like hounds were after you and rushed into your room. The rose was lying where you had left it last night. It was slightly rumpled and the black was quite obvious now but holding it slightly eased the fear building inside you. You clutched it to your chest as your grandmother strode into the room.

“G-get away.” You stumbled backwards. “Don’t come any closer!”

“Oh, pumpkin. What’s the matter?” She smiled sweetly.

“I found the room. What was it for? What were you doing to me?” The questions tumbled out before you could stop them.

Your grandmother kept her smile as she walked deliberately towards you. “Everything I did was to keep you safe.”

“Safe?” You repeated, gobsmacked. “I don’t believe that at all! You and - and your weird rules.” You eyed the woman who claimed to be your grandmother as you backed towards the window. You made a quick calculation in your head. The room wasn’t that high, you could survive the jump. It would hurt, but if you just get away -

“Don’t do it, April.” She took a step towards you. Something crackled between her fingers and you made your decision. You turned and dove out the window.

The fall was quick and so was the memory that flashed behind your eyes.

“Come on, April! Don’t worry! I’ll catch you!” I saw the stranger with pointed ears standing in front of me. His hair was shorter than I was used to. The king made him cut it while the other courts were visiting.

I hesitated as I stood on the window sill. I looked back to see someone at the door. Adrenaline pumped through me as I jumped, dress billowing. I landed in his safe arms, though he pretended to drop me. I punched his shoulder without malice and he shook me with his laughter.

The scene dissipated as you were jolted by a surface softer than the ground. The arms that caught you did not belong to your stranger but were familiar for a different reason. You clawed at his face and he dropped you with a curse. With muted satisfaction you noted the blood welling under his right eye before darting away.

The blond man’s grip crushed both your wrist and hopes of escape. A gasp of pain escaped you as tears formed in your eyes. He pulled you in close by the neck so you couldn’t attack him.

“I can’t let you escape me again.” He crooned into your ear. You shivered as his blood dripped down your neck. “You should have just run the first time but now I’ll torture you both.”

He shifted your struggling form into one arm. You stilled as he pulled out the vial from his pocket. He shook it lightly in front of your face. “Aw, you want to know what this is for?”

“Don’t.” Came the commanding voice of your stranger, gruff and hardened. He was on the ground, covered in mud and using his sword to prop himself up. Blood made his ascent difficult but he struggled to a standing position.

You tried to call out to him but the man’s hold on your neck tightened, making spots appear in the peripherals. He ignored the struggling elven man in favour of taunting you further.

“It’s easier for you if you don’t remember… but it’s more fun for me this way.” He tore out the cork with his teeth and tipped the swirling cloud down your throat. You weren’t sure whether it was the potion or lack of oxygen as your sight started to fade.

A name was on the tip of your tongue as you called out to the stranger trying helplessly to reach you. “R-”

Next

@scuzmunkie @wordsaremylife @luarinne @inuhuffclaw @wayward-demigod

#haha got ya #you'll find out his name next time though #April's Fall #April's Fall - part 4 #there's some weird/creepy/bad things under the cut #blood #fighting #general creepiness #if there's something you want me to tag it as let me know

[ashenhartkrie]

Today, March 31st, is TDoV – Trans Day of Visibility. Not everyone celebrates, not everyone can. I choose to be visible and open about my experiences and my identity to support those who can’t be. Whether it be for safety, because they’re still closeted, or because life has taken them from us. The experiences we share as transgender people are not always easy ones, but they are important, and I believe they should be recognised.

 I’m lucky. I recognise that, and I’m grateful for that every day. I live in a country where my rights are protected by law (for the most part), where I have access to hormones and surgery, both of which are covered under our healthcare. I pay less than $7 every three months for my hormones. I paid roughly $500 out of pocket for my surgery.  My family supports me, they’ve been here for me. They respect my identity and do their best to understand my life and my experiences. My friends have had my back every step of the way. There are many trans people in the world who do not have these luxuries.

Being openly trans can be exhausting. There is a multitude of social obstacles that need to be overcome. People’s perceptions, legislation, and internalised transphobia are all reinforced by the status quo, and many trans folk (myself included) struggle with finding their place. This is WHY I talk openly about my identity, about my experiences. It’s why I answer people’s questions, even when they’re invasive (if you ask me about my genitals you WILL get an answer, so make sure you actually want to know the answer!!) or ignorant. Ignorance isn’t malice, even though they can sometimes feel similar. I hope that by being open, by being unapologetically ME, that I can normalise being trans in a society that still treats us as morbid curiosities. 

My existence is an act of defiance. I will not back down, I will not hide or hang my head. I have been through too much to not stand tall and declare that I am proud of who I am. I am here for my siblings who have passed on. I am here for those who are afraid to come out. I am here, saying this is who I am and that’s okay. If I can make the path easier for those who walk it with me then I will have done something worthwhile. 

People like Sylvia Rivera, Marsha P Johnson, Miss Major, Michael Dillon, and Lou Sullivan fought (and in the case of Miss Major continue to fight) for recognition and acceptance of the trans community. Without activists like them we may not have reached this point. I’m not trying to be a radical. I just want to exist, and in doing so show others that it’s okay, that they have a future. 

So here I am. Proud to be trans, proud to be here. I don’t need to change the whole world, but maybe I can change someone else’s world. That would be enough for me.

If there's a trans person in your life that you'd like to support, or simply want to learn more and become a better ally, ACON has recently launched TransHub, and GLAAD also has information for trans allies

https://www.transhub.org.au/allies

https://www.glaad.org/transgender/allies

If you or someone you know is struggling with their identity, the Trevor Project is an organisation that offers crisis intervention and suicide prevention for queer, questioning and lgbt+ youth 

https://www.thetrevorproject.org/ [Image Description: The first image is a side by side comparison of me before and after transitioning. On the left I am wearing a low cut red dress, with short orange hair and a black rose pinned to my dress. I am smiling awkwardly at the camera. On the right I am  taking a selfie in the mirror. I'm not smiling but I am happy. I am wearing dark blue jeans, a navy vest, and a pink shirt with the sleeves rolled up.The second image shows me in a hospital bed. I am wearing a medical compression vest, have short buzzed hair, and am grinning widely.The third image is a selfie of my post-op. I am shirtless, with tape on my incisions and smiling happily at the camera. End Decription]

[space-colony-snark]

The Phantom Obsidian

(A quick fic inspired by and expanding on my earlier post here. Infinite loses the phantom ruby and with it, his grasp on reality. He finds himself flashing through different versions of space-time until an old enemy steps forward to offer help in exchange for a small favor. Post Sonic Forces, somewhat pre-Sonic 06.)

Rating: PG-13 (for cartoon violence, mild swearing, physical descriptions of glitching)

* * * * *

Infinite knew something was wrong the moment the final kick connected with his chest.

He was angry, reckless after that plucky little upstart defused his sun. He knew that. And still he could not stop himself from pouring his anger into grand attacks that ended with a red shoe to his chest. But he never considered-- never conceived, in a million years-- that the ruby might fail him in the end.

Infinite dropped to the platform below like a bag of bricks. Every atom of his body felt like it had staggered left of center by a foot. In a flash his hand was on the phantom ruby, checking it for cracks. It felt whole. He withdrew, satisfied.

Then the glitching started. It felt like swatches of pins-and-needles numbness pulsing all over his body. Infinite stared at his own hand-- there and not-there, flickering in and out-- momentarily stunned.

The sound of the blue nuisance’s voice brought Infinite back. His first instinct was mortification. He couldn’t let the hero know he’d won-- couldn’t let him see this weakness-- how dare he look on with such pity?

“This isn’t over!” Infinite shouted over his shoulder, and made a tactical retreat.

His landing at the top of the fortress’ high tower was a clumsy one, all knees and elbows. Infinite was happy he landed at all, in this state. Eggman was waiting for him.

“So, Sonic slipped through your fingers a third time, hm?” The doctor said, drumming his fingers on his little flying chariot.

Infinite struggled to raise up onto his knees. “Doctor-- the ruby-- its power weakens--” he gasped. “I am slipping--”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Eggman said brightly, his cheer almost disguising the malice underneath. “But I’m afraid there are no sick days in the Eggman Empire.”

With that, he stooped politely and plucked the phantom ruby from Infinite’s chest like a cherry off a sundae.

The effect was immediate.

Infinite’s vision flooded black. He felt himself dragged bodily into a cold void. His stomach lurched. His limbs-- wherever they were in the continuum-- tingled with a mixture of numbness and electricity. He tumbled, his sense of up and down completely lost, until-- 

He arrived in the familiar emptiness of Null space. It echoed out around him to the edges of vision. Stray blocks floated here and there like schools of fish. Infinite’s nausea subsided. He let himself breathe. To be trapped in a realm of his own making was not such a terrible fate-- far better than the one he feared. Hell, he might even find a way out if that infernal blue nuisance had proved anything. Infinite considered this. Yes, he’d crawl his way out of obsolescence if he had to, and then have a couple of harsh words with his former employer. He reached out lazily for a nearby floating cube.

As he did so, a new wave of energy washed over the space and Infinite arrived at the terrible conclusion that this was not his that it did not belong to him anymore and the glitching resumed with a vengeance and surged up his arm-- 

He felt a colder, emptier, vacuumous void open across his back and suck him in. Infinite opened his eyes for one brilliant second and saw a space station-- how did he know that?-- shaped like the moon sliced in half-- 

-- he blinked again and found himself falling over an endless ocean, a floating island on the horizon, shrouded in dense jungle and crowned with a single blindingly green light--

-- and then there were cities, dozens of cities, some crowded with aliens and dying soldiers, some flooded beyond repair--

-- and one that burned like hell itself. The flashing visions hesitated for a moment, like an object thrown in the air pausing before it plummets, and Infinite imagined this burning city could have been his, if only the ruby still remained--

-- his passage through dimensions quickened. Infinite could not keep up at this point. Images flashed before his eyes and were just as quickly replaced. He began to notice an object hanging in the center of his vision, faint, but growing ever stronger, ever more solid, as the visions passed.

It was a crystal.

At its heart it gleamed a deep, inky navy, fading to a blighted and sickly blue-grey at the edges. It was not his ruby, to be sure-- but still-- the energy that radiated from this crystal engulfed Infinite, awakened his hunger for power, promised with sure finality its all-consuming strength.

Infinite needed no further persuasion. He reached out with both hands and slammed the crystal into his chest.

A flood of icy heat flushed across Infinite’s body like hot water poured over frozen fingers. In an instant he felt whole again, physical and powerful. He flexed his long-lost limbs. Infinite watched with morbid curiosity as blighted blue-grey crept in crystalline flakes over his fingertips. Black vapor billowed from beneath his mask. The fiery red he once wore for the phantom ruby burned itself to ash and smoke until even his gleaming armor took on a tarnish.

The flashing images began to slow. Like a tired carousel or a roulette wheel come to the end, Infinite passed through a few more dimensions lazily-- a remote island, staffed with guards; the mansion of some rich brat-- before the slipstream set him down in a realm to call his own.

Infinite stood in a vast barren plain. He took a cautious step. Nothing happened. He kicked at the stony earth. Nothing. He moseyed forwards, spinning a little, marveling at the strange rivers of magma and the even stranger clouded sky. He could learn to be content with dominion over this place, he thought. A coat of paint here, a few slaves there--

“Welcome,” a voice greeted flatly behind him.

Infinite whirled on the intruder. His eyes fell on an all-too-familiar face.

“You--!” Infinite roared, his mouth a mess of snarling teeth, and he lunged for Shadow--

Shadow waved his hand. Infinite went flying backwards. He struck the earth, bounced, rolled into a guarded crouch-- and stopped.

This wasn’t his Shadow.

A series of eerie details slowly made themselves known. There was the sickly blue-grey striping across the quills where they ought to be red. There was the mouth, hanging flat and unused, like an afterthought on a face. There was the way the head didn’t quite hang upright but lolled, slightly; the limp and doll-like arms-- then the eyes, those lime-green and deadened eyes that affirmed beyond a doubt that although this creature wore a poor approximation of Shadow’s form, it was by no means the original.

“You may call me Mephiles,” the Being That Was Not Shadow announced. “There’s something I want you to do for me.”

Infinite rose to his feet. He dusted the dirt from his hands. Now that the initial surprise had worn off, this newcomer did not appear to pose much of a threat. “I am Infinite,” he replied. “Were this any other day I would break the soul from your body for proposing I do you a favor. But I am feeling magnanimous, and so I will inform you that I am no hero. My services come at an extraordinarily high price. Pray tell, what could you ever possibly offer me?”

“I can give you a chance at revenge.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

Mephiles shuffled forward. He gestured lazily with one hand. An image of Shadow-- the real one-- flickered to life. “You despise Shadow as I do, yes?”

Infinite declined to comment.

“He is happy in this world,” Mephiles said, his voice dripping with disgust. “He has found love and acceptance. Look--” the visions of Shadow swayed, changing from solitary scenes to ones of domestic life surrounded by friends. In every image Shadow looked at ease-- not entirely happy, per se, but the aggressive sharpness Infinite knew too well was gone from his eyes, replaced with a kind of peace. Infinite’s lip curled into a snarl beneath his mask.

“You think that is enough to sway me? Pathetic,” he sneered. “I didn’t escape death just to be courted by the paltry shade of my enemy.” He turned his back on Mephiles and waved him away. “Leave me. I will enact vengeance on my own terms.”

A snake of black smoke coiled around Infinite. In its wake hung Mephiles. He no longer appeared as a half-hearted copy; now his limbs clinked and clanked as growths of crystals, his eyes gazed down as vast pools of burning red. This was no ordinary mimic. Here was a long-dead god forcing the limits of its physical prison. Infinite felt a sickly sense of awe and appreciation wash over him.

“I did not make myself clear,” Mephiles said. His mouth did not move, but the rocks-- the sky, even-- echoed all the words for him. His piercing scarlet eyes fixed upon Infinite. “You are here because I willed it. I created the Phantom Obsidian you wear on your chest. The power you feel is mine. Without me you would be no more than a ghost. Do you understand?”

Infinite understood, but not in the way Mephiles intended. He knew the new crystal must draw its energy from somewhere; even the emeralds had their own otherworldly font. But never did he dream that his source was a being he could converse with-- or, to that end, potentially influence. The sight of Mephiles floating before him filled Infinite with greed. Surely, here was a being without weakness. If he could steal that power for himself, well--

“Fascinating,” he breathed.

The response shattered Mephiles’ air of grandiosity. His arms drooped. “...What?”

“Tell me: what power do you possess?”

The deity struggled to regain composure. “I control all of time and space. I am the first nightmare, the first absence of light, and so long as I survive I will be the last.”

Infinite’s wild smile grew two inches. “And would you promise an...equitable share of this power and dominion should I agree to perform your little task?”

“Everything you draw from the stone is yours.”

Infinite placed a hand over his heart, over the phantom obsidian that pulsed methodically on his chest. His voice purred through his grinning teeth, “Then I give myself to your aid, and find the utmost pleasure in doing so. What do you demand of me?”

If Mephiles was surprised by this sudden declaration, he did not show it. He gestured with one hand. The sky filled with the image of a face Infinite knew intimately: Sonic, the wretched sewer-rat hero of the rebellion. “Kill him,” Mephiles grated. “He is the one who prevents me from ravaging this world.” A whirling portal yawned wide beside him. “This will take you to him.” 

Infinite gave a little snorting laugh as he stepped through. “You should have picked something harder.”

* * * * *

Author’s Note: let me know if you’re interested in seeing a second chapter! I have some ideas in place for a full-fledged Sonic 06 AU with Infinite involved, but I’m not sure if I want to go ahead with it just yet. Reader feedback is greatly appreciated!  

#sonic forces #Sonic 06 #infinite the jackal #Infinite #Mephiles The Dark #mephiles #sonic the hedgehog #mara fic #sth #edit: I hope this shows up in the tags now #phantom obsidian

[nessiefromspace]

Terror Prompt: "I think the door is locked!" Zerhys, Gore is okay if you want it.

He called through the glass window. They stared, frozen to their spot until a guard ushered them all up the stairs. Rhys frowned. “What? No!” He banged on the glass. “You can’t leave me here! Hey!” he yelled. But it was clear they weren’t going to help him. He banged on the window. “COWARDS!” he screamed. He watched them turn their backs to him and hurry to safety.

Rhys faced the hallway, the flashing lights reflecting off the tiled floor in the dark.

An alien has escaped capture in the secret government facility and Rhys is trapped there with it. 

I hope I did a good job making it horrrorrr.

You can also read this on my AO3!!!

The hallways to the secret military facility were dark save for the flashing red and yellow lights that twirled in alert around the rushing crowds. Scientists, researchers, and engineers were being lead by guards to designated exits. Rhys, among many terrified others workers were ushered this way and that. They had no idea what was happening, but the alarm had sounded and screams could be heard echoing down the halls.

Rhys had a good guess. The alien they had captured and tortured and experimented on had gotten loose. And he was glad for it. He felt no sympathy for the men and women who had ruthlessly chained and beat the creature. Rhys bitterly remembered the dark green blood seeping from open wounds and orifices.

They had detained Rhys when he’d lost it and tried to stop them, proving just how heartless they were. His ribs still had bruises, his jaw was still healing from a cut. He’d been reprimanded and warned no one got fired from here, simply misplaced and Rhys would only get one more warning. But Rhys hadn’t cared, he’d began planning to help the alien escape, fortunately, it seemed to have gotten out on its own.

Now, everyone ran for their lives, shoving past those too slow. They were crazed with fear and it only got worse when they finally reached the corridor with their designated exit. The promise of safety made everyone around him wild and they began to shove each other, shoving Rhys into a wall and making him trip. He scrambled back to his feet, now a good foot or two behind them and sporting a new limp. He hurried with all his might, pain searing through him. He reached the door as the last person barreled through, hearing it click closed just as Rhys ran into it. All the momentum he’d had could not push the door open.

Arms aching and bruised, he peered it at the crowd, staring back at him. “I think the door is locked!” He called through the glass window. They stared, frozen to their spot until a guard ushered them all up the stairs. Rhys frowned. “What? No!” He banged on the glass. “You can’t leave me here! Hey!” he yelled. But it was clear they weren’t going to help him. He banged on the window. “COWARDS!” he screamed. He watched them turn their backs to him and hurry to safety.

Rhys faced the hallway, the flashing lights reflecting off the tiled floor in the dark. His heart pounded, dread pouring over him like ice water. He needed to find another way out. He pushed off the door, his feet an entity of their own, walking separately from him. His head filled with static at the silence in the hall. As he stepped down it, he found his footsteps echoing a thousand times louder than he remembered.

He hugged himself, trying to comfort his panicked mind. He assured himself that he’d find a way out and he wouldn’t meet the creature- the alien. He could hope that it would recognize him and spare him, but Rhys didn’t know its mind. It very well may not have understood what had been happening that day.

His feet clicked along the corridor and he winced all the while at the sound. His ears strained to hear any noise beyond the ones he himself made, but none was to be found. He found the second door with no interruptions, pushing into it with a choked hope only to cry with dread when it was locked.

“No, no, no, no!” he gasped.

He knew the protocol that the doors would lock, but he’d hoped he’d find one in time that wasn’t. His eyes stung with fear and he hastily wiped it away. He needed to focus, to keep his wits about him. He had to escape. He trudged back to the main hall and towards another exit, the lights still flickering. His body shook and he hugged himself tighter, his mind racing and blank at the same time.

He was going to have travel across the expanse of the building, to the other side and to a little known part, where an exit may have been overlooked. He walked briskly, hating the silence and loving it at the same time. Silence meant he was safe, but it also exposed him and his stupid feet clacking away for all to hear.

The stillness of the place made his hair prickle and form goosebumps. Always were scientists bustling about, excited by their horrible projects and counseling with each other. He walked around toppled carts and chairs until he saw a mass of broken vials, their liquids pooling around the shattered glass. It hindered his journey as he stepped over a minefield of spilled chemicals. He had to twist his body this way and that to keep his feet clean of them, his pained body screaming.

Once free of the hazards, he turned to further his trek, smirking at the small triumph. But then he stilled, a scream frozen in his throat. At the end of the corridor, the red and yellow flash of lights bounced off the dark orange body of the alien. It stretched towards the ceiling, lean with two strong arms and legs, watching Rhys. He could see its many eyes reflecting the light as it stared at him.

Stomach in ugly, twisting knots, Rhys felt as though his legs would collapsed right under him. There was nothing to block the alien from chasing him and Rhys wasn’t sure if he could even outrun it. He heard a growl mix with low clicks that sent shivers down his spine. He had seen it plainly that one day and though it had revolted others, Rhys hadn’t found it hideous and he didn’t now. He found it terrifying. It took a step towards him and his heart leapt to his throat, panic turning his feet to lead.

No, he couldn’t just wait for his death, he had to put up a fight or he had to try at the very least. He willed his legs to move, one foot in front of the other until he was running and skidding down a side hall. He didn’t hear it give chase, but Rhys could feel it right behind him. He didn’t know where he was going and every door he tried were locked. He swore seeing it at the end of the hallway, light and efficient on its feet.

Rhys ran, wanting to scream, but was lost for words. He was nearly to the end where he could turn either left or right, but was grabbed, the creature sending him careening to the floor. Rhys yelped, gasping and shivering while the alien crouched over, face inches from his own. Rhys stared with wide eyes at the ten peering back at him. Its mouth opened, sharp fangs hissing. Rhys winced, waiting for those teeth to take hold of his gullet and end him forever.

What he got was wet. Rhys jumped, a surprised squeak shooting from his lips as a tongue met the base of his neck. It went upward, curving over his chin, up his jaw to slime his cheek and pull his hair out of place. Rhys popped an eye open, unsure of what was happening. The alien bent down, resting its forehead on Rhys’.

Flashes whirled around Rhys’ mind. Of a crashed ship and men in suits attacking tying him up. The poking and abuse. Starvation wracked at his stomach while the feeling of their hostility and morbid curiosity gnawed at his sanity. Chains choked and chafed him raw, while feet and fists and objects bruised and cut, making him dizzy with lack of blood. The humans were uncaring, cruel, except that one.

Rhys saw himself, tall and awkward, eyes watching with a curiosity shed of malice and malevolence. There was no hatred that raked against the alien, but a kindness and a sadness at its lack of wellbeing. Then, it watched the human turn angry at the others of his kind, fighting them and getting hurt. Rhys’ heart filled with fury. Rhys called out as the kind one was dragged away, beaten the same as him.

Rhys knew now, could feel the alien inside his head. Zer0, it was called, or at least translated into words Rhys could comprehend. It would not hurt Rhys. It only wanted to find its ship, repair it and get the hell away from Earth.

Calm now, Rhys tentatively put his hand against what he thought was Zer0’s cheek. The location flashed in Rhys’ mind, as well as guards and military storming back in to reclaim the facility.

A harsh growl, low and angry vibrated through Zer0 as he understood. His arms wrapped around Rhys’ waist, pulling him up as Zer0 stood and holding him tight to the alien’s body. It began to run, picking up a speed that was inhuman, through halls and down locked stairwells. Zer0 shouldered down each door without hindrance. Within a few short minutes, they had arrived at the large hanger bay that housed Zer0’s ship.

It was still in one piece, but Rhys could see where they’d messed with it. “I… I don’t know what all they did to it, but I’ll do my best…” Zer0 let him go once his feet were steady and they both went to it. It was large for what Rhys was used to, but he was awed by it. They worked fast. To Rhys’ relief the scientists hadn’t made a lot of progress and they were able to get the ship up and running in no time.

As Zer0 started it up and lights flickered to life, a realization prickled at his heart. “Uh… I guess this is goodbye?” He said quietly, heart clenching at his words and thickening his throat. He didn’t want to leave his new friend, but he knew it wasn’t safe for him on Earth.

A series of light gurgles were made and Rhys felt it in his mind. It wanted Rhys to come with it, longed for companionship like Rhys did.

A wide smile swept over Rhys and he ran for the alien, wrapping his arms around it in a tight hug. His heart was lighter than air, his eyes wet with joy. He could feel the alien’s surprise as it caught him and then laughter as it comprehended. They were both done with this planet and Rhys ready for a new life. A new adventure with Zer0.

#Borderlands #Zerhys #Zer0/Rhys #zer0 the assassin #rhys the company man #fluff #horror #no gore though #Rare Pair Extravaganza