#impact lighting is so murky i tried my best...

[kopw]

#trinity #trinity fatu #impact wrestling #impactedit #impact 23/05/04 #trinity my friend trinity from total divas :) #impact lighting is so murky i tried my best...

[skirter01]

Top Gun: Fenton - Chpt 1 (Teaser)

Bout time I put this one out here. Will be up on Ao3 in the next 2 weeks!

The thing about plummeting 20,000ft through the air in the middle of the night – if you realise it's a bad idea halfway down, it's already too late. 

“Holy sh*t!” 

Admittedly, not one of Danny’s favourite ways to wake up. 

He could barely right himself as he plummeted through the dark sky in a mess of flailing limbs and flapping NASA pyjama pants. Obviously not his best look, but it wasn’t like he was prepared to wake up falling out of the sky. In fact, it wasn’t something he’d ever had to actually deal with considering he tended to defy gravity majority of the time anyway. 

Convenient, when it works, he thought saltily, still trying and failing to trigger any reciprocation from his core. Since when was he having power malfunctions? It was like he was fourteen all over again, turning his pants intangible in the school hallway. Puberty, ew. 

Danny’s lanky body flipped and folded uncontrollably like a sheet in the wind, while compressed air screamed past his ears and pulled at the skin of his face, drying out his mouth and grabbing at his eyelids painfully. How could anyone do this for fun, ever? 

Honestly, he’d pretty much accepted at this point that whatever was going on, this wasn't his fault. The last thing he remembered was falling into bed next to Sam post online doom sesh with Tucker and completely checking out of the world of consciousness – because yes he could do that now, three cheers for retirement! So, unless he could somehow teleport in his sleep, this was completely out of his control. Which was unsettling, but at least it was some comfort that he could blame someone else for once.  

A chill nipped at his arms as he plunged through more cloud cover, only this time, instead of more dark and gloom, he broke through to come face to face with perhaps the most menacing skyline he’d ever seen. 

Brutal skyscrapers stood like gods, towering over a city swathed in smog and pollution. Plumes of smoke drifted skywards, drifting past keeling cranes and breathing onto low flying aircraft weaving dangerously between high rises. 

Oh he was so not in Washington anymore. 

His eyes followed smatterings of dim light that illuminated bustling roads and jagged bridges, stooping down into a shadowy harbour, dotted with resting ships bobbing in dark water. The very same water which loomed ominously below him. Danny’s eyes widened as the still, murky harbour water rushed at him, and he tried uselessly to grasp any part of his half dead self. Head-on collision in ten, nine, eight….

He managed to swivel feet first, throwing his legs out like a spring to displace the water. Not that it helped. It was like hitting fucking concrete. His legs cracked sickeningly on impact and the icy harbour water engulfed him. 

As he sunk down, a horrible scenario flashed through his mind; his body filled with water, sinking to the bottom of this strange harbour in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, never to be found again. His only memory; a segment on buzzfeed unsolved. 

Naturally, Danny panicked. He floundered on the surface, splashing around with only arms to keep him afloat and the dreaded possibility that he’d just broken both legs. He sucked in salty water through his nose, and choked it down his throat as the dead-weight of his legs dragged him under. 

Sam, the house and the $20 in my wallet are yours. The console goes to Tucker – but I’ll never forgive you if you don’t put him through the blazing trials of hell to earn it. 

Miraculously, it was then that he felt that familiar weightlessness settle over him, and without a second thought, he launched himself skyward blindly – just far enough to miss the rest of the harbour and crash ragdoll style onto the wooden jetty. 

Rolling to a stop on his back, Danny groaned, chest heaving for oxygen he didn't need. His legs were on fire, but at least that was better than numb – c’mon freaky ghost powers do your thing already. All he wanted was to lie there and pass out. But that would just be too convenient. 

The red and blue lights of justice flashed against the white undersides of the expensive moored boats lining the jetting, and the squeal of rubber tires on tarmac had Danny cursing under his breath. Too fucking perfect. 

Car doors slammed, two of them, and the hurried thumping of boots on the flimsy wooden jetty vibrated against his back. Closest he’d get to a massage probably. 

“Hey!” 

Danny sighed and closed his eyes, so it begins.

The first cop was by his side in seconds, sliding to his knees at Danny’s shoulder. “Please, please don't be dead,” The guy mumbled to himself, clearly young by the tone, fiddling with his utility belt for what Danny could only guess was a pair of gloves. “Not another one. Not more paperwork.”

“Your lucky day” Danny wheezed out a laugh, forcing his eyes back open enough to give the poor traumatised dude some clarity. “Still kicking.” 

“Crap!” The cop startled, falling back on his heels, probably having already convinced himself that Danny was dead. He couldn't blame the guy, good intuition. “You scared the socks off me dude!” He put a hand to his chest, “But thank god for that.” 

“Ha.” Danny exhaled exhaustedly. The Officers silver name badge read ‘Det. Grayson’, but his face was young, a year or two older than Danny, he guessed, somewhere around twenty three or four – definitely too young to be a detective. Black hair peaked out from underneath Detective Graysons cap, hanging above blue eyes eerily similar to his own. They roved over Danny’s beaten face and body with the same critical gaze Jazz had been giving him for years. Oh yeah, oldest sibling for sure – out in the wild. 

The assessment halted at his legs, “God, your…” 

The second cop, Graysons partner, sidled up then, measly first aid kit in one hand and a flashlight in the other. He was an older man, stubby, with a crooked moustache, wide face and a badge that read ‘Const. Marshall’. “What’ve we got Grayson? Another body – holy christ!” 

Constable Marshall staggered a few steps, when his flashlight illuminated Danny’s tattered legs. “Oh hell no. That’s bone! I see bone!” 

“Marshall!” Grayson scolded in a harsh whisper, ripping away the first aid kit.

Danny cringed. So much for being calm in front of a patient. His legs must be pretty gruesome then. It wasn’t worrying, not when he could already feel the burning sensation of his ectoplasm trying to cinch them back together. Except, that was just the problem. 

He gritted his teeth. Please stop healing. 

“Sorry about him,” Grayson mumbled, calmly reaching into the first aid kit for some intense looking bandages, “I’m Detective Grayson, and that’s Constable Marshall. We’re with Bluhaven PD, but we’re working with Gotham City at the moment. What’s your name?” 

Danny’s stomach dropped. “We’re in Gotham?” 

“Gotham harbour specifically.” Detective Graysons brow furrowed. “Did you hit your head at all?” 

“No–I, um…” What in the hell was going on? “– sorry, I’m Danny.”

The Detective's eyes were wary, but he hid it well with an awkward smile. “Well it’s nice to meet you Danny. Although, not the best circumstances, I’m sure.” 

Danny chuckled breathily, mind spinning. “Tell me about it.” 

“What in the hell happened?” Constable Marshall asked, white as a sheet and looking all the more like he was about to regurgitate his dinner into the harbour. “I’m calling an ambulance.” 

Danny’s heart jumped to his throat. “Oh no really – you don't have to, I’m fine, I’ll just–”

“No time. We’ll take him with us” Grayson interrupted, tying off bandages around Danny’s legs to stem the bleeding. “Marshall, help me get him up” 

Danny let out a very manly whine as both men gripped him under the arms and carefully lifted his battered body to a standing position. His vision spun, and he wobbled dangerously, because obviously standing on two broken legs wasn’t going to provide much stability. The younger of the two cops was quick to duck under his shoulders and lift the weight off, whilst the Constable on the other side took a second longer to follow his example. So much for seniority. 

“Danny, how are you going buddy? You with us?” Grayson asked, the epitome of calm, but Danny really couldn't give him an answer right now. He continued, “We’re going to get you over to the car okay? And then we’ll go straight to the hospital.”

“No hospitals.” Danny moaned amidst spinning vision and pounding head. 

“Yeah, I’m afraid you don’t really have a choice my dude, sorry.” Grayson smirked. “Nice pants by the way. NASA, very spacey"

Danny died a little more.

---

Whoop! Bit vague, but all the more fun to come!

#dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp #dick grayson #nightwing #batfam #batfamily #dc robin

[lizzie-saltzman]

I’LL CRAWL HOME TO YOU

A Hizzie fanfiction / update

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman Fandom: Legacies Rating: M Chapters: 2/? Summary:  In many ways, meeting Hope in a different reality had helped Lizzie put things in perspective, and perhaps even understand her in ways she hadn’t before. Understand them, their connection, the palpable animosity that had turned into a reluctant friendship and now something far more tangible. The rest, well, she doesn’t tell Josie. Not about waking up after three weeks away from her real home, tucked under the covers of Hope’s bed with their clothes discarded around the dormitory, with a light sheen of sweat on her forehead and her hair sticking to her cheekbones. There were some things better left unsaid. (Upon her return from an alternate timeline a Malivore monster teleported her to, Lizzie must deal with the aftermath of her time spent away, and her newly doormat feelings for Hope Mikaelson.)

chapter 1 here

READ CH. 2 HERE ON AO3 or under the read more 

[ 3 WEEKS AGO ]

A muddy splash sends speckles of murky water coating a pair of white boots. Under the full moon, an owl hoots, as Lizzie Saltzman breaks through the branches that leave a bloody mark on her left cheek. She reaches for it, with a mumbled expletive as her breathing grows heavier and her knees start to give. Behind her, a black wolf with yellow tinted eyes that shine through the darkness of the woods gives chase, snarling as it draws closer to her. 

She’s been sprinting for a while; Lizzie’s exhausted, pushing past the burn on her thighs as she rounds a corner and leaps over a log dangerously set on the ground, almost losing her balance as her boot skids through the mud. Its drizzling, her clothes are weighing her down, her hair is ruined – if she had the mind to complain about the other terrible but insignificant, personal circumstances, she’d be holding an ice pack to her cheek and ranting over a Strawberry Smoothie. Instead, she finds herself here, in the outskirts of the woods in Mystic Falls, barely managing to get on her feet before the wolf catches up to her. 

“Lecutio!” She’s all out of magic after –– the ball of energy flies ahead of the wolf and crashes against the tree behind it, effectively snapping off the branches and watching as they fall near the wolf long enough to distract it. It wasn’t her intention, really – she was aiming for it’s head. Soon enough, the wolf turns it’s head (and it’s disorienting eyes) in her direction, growling.

“Crap…” And she takes off again, her boots splash, splash, splashing rapidly on the wet floor. This is not how she pictured spending a Sunday night. 

Her lungs are giving out, her body begs her to stop running; she might pass out from exhaustion alone, and her vision – on top of that – blurs as the light drizzle of rain washes over her face. She wipes it away with the palm of her hand, but it obstructs her already impaired vision in the dark, and trips over a boulder on the ground. Lizzie groans, her body rolling through the mud, and the wolf slows it’s approach. She’s cornered. She’s screwed. She’s dead.

The wolf stalks forward. Lizzie raises her hands to her face, and it launches itself through the air. 

Lizzie screams, anticipating the powerful impact, the bite, but instead another wolf collides in the air with her attacker. White, with speckles of grey. They roll around in the mud, snarling at each other, growling, taking bites anywhere their teeth can sink into until they’re both back on their feet. Lizzie watches, covering her mouth as she gasps, pushing herself back until her shoulders meet one of the trees behind her. 

Then, the white wolf attacks the black one again. They begin their vicious snarling, and as Lizzie finds the force to pick herself off the ground, she hears one of them whimper. When she looks back, the black wolf is retreating, disappearing through the trees, and the white one turns, even slower in its approach. Lizzie’s eyes widen, out of magic, and out of breath, but she turns around in an attempt to try and run away again. 

Except she spins out, when she feels her black hoodie being yanked away from her body, leaving her in a tank top under the rain that starts to pick up. She turns around angrily, but instead of finding a white wolf stalking back, she finds –

“Hope?” 

Hope is sporting her too-big-for-her hoodie over her naked body and watching her with her arms crossed over her chest. It covers just enough. Not everything. Just enough. 

“Oh, thank God!” Lizzie exclaims, throwing her arms around Hope in sweet, sweet relief as she tries to catch her breath. “I thought I was dead. Dead, dead.” 

But she knows Hope Mikaelson. Always coming through with her last minute heroics. 

Except this time, Hope pushes her away, hands on her shoulders, taking a step back to get a good look at her. They look at each other, almost comically; Hope with an eyebrow quirked and Lizzie, with her mouth agape. Then, Hope’s strange behavior is perfectly clear –

“Who the hell are you?” 

------

[ PRESENT DAY ]

“Lizzie!”

Hope’s tired voice carries down the hallway. Behind her, Lizzie can hear her footsteps approaching – faster, faster – until they stop at her side, walking in tandem with her into the vast, otherwise dusty library at the end of the hall, where students gather quietly over a pile of books raging from anything about the occult to the mundane – European History and an old, thick Gaelic book about Magical Portals that thuds on the ground as it falls sloppily from the top of the bookshelf and almost takes Lizzie out. Talk about head trauma.

“Hey, watch it!” Lizzie looks up as dust gathers below her. Alyssa Chang stands on the top of the rolling ladder, shrugging nonchalantly. Whoops.

Lizzie picks up the book, coughs, swatting the dust away and piling it on top of Hope’s already busy hands. Hope says nothing, only blinks away the speckles of dust as she trails behind Lizzie with concern.

“I haven’t seen you all day. Is everything okay?” 

She shouldn’t be taken aback, but she is, by the genuine worried inflection in Hope Mikaelson’s voice. Hope is tired, the evidence marked clearly on her face, vaguely darkened circles under her eyes that Hope barely had mind to conceal this morning with even the smallest layer of makeup. No one would be able to tell, not really, but Lizzie can. She knows that look Hope carries around like a weight on her back when something’s been keeping her up at night. 

In front of the tinted window sill, Lizzie turns. The yellow light reflects off Hope’s exhausted, blue eyes, and Lizzie almost stutters, opting to instead, snatch the book back from the pile already gathered on Hope’s arms and toss it onto the nearest unoccupied table. 

No, Hope. I’ve been avoiding you all morning until this very unfortunate meeting where we’ll be subjected to a torturous hour of incessant nerd rambling on how to kill the very same monster that sent me through a hell portal into another dimension where I hooked up with you and your unforgettable muscles and now I can’t even look at you in the eyes without thinking about it, so–

“I’m fine”. Lizzie says, saccharine sweet. Too sweet. Enough to make Hope suspicious, as she looks at the book Lizzie tossed on the table with an eyebrow raised. “I was having a perfectly fine morning until MG interrupted my strictly scheduled morning meditation and after reluctantly agreeing to meet here in exactly five minutes, the kitchen was out of Belgian Waffles, so I had to settle for a non-fat Greek yogurt. So yes, I’ve been severely inconvenienced, but it has nothing to do with you”.

“I never said it has –” Hope starts. “Shouldn’t we talk about it? About what happened…” 

Lizzie stiffens. 

“With the monster…”

She deflates.

“We still don’t know if there are any side effects to any of this. Doctor Saltzman said you refused to talk to Emma about what happened –”

“And now you’re giving me advice about what I should and shouldn’t talk to our school therapist about?” Lizzie scoffs, on the defensive, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “That’s rich, Hope”. 

“That’s not what I meant –”

“Everyone at this school is so prolific at internalizing every shitty thing that happens to us on a weekly basis but since this one particular thing happened to me, then of course I’m the one who has to have the damage control, witchy therapy sessions with Emma despite the fact that I’ve already told everyone who’s asked that I’m fine!” 

“Lizzie –”

“Is that why you were looking for me this morning? You wanted to check up on me?” 

“Yes”. Hope says sincerely. Its her version of an olive branch – honesty. Lizze frowns, but Hope touches her wrist and she stays frozen in place, like she’s been jolted and immobilized by an invisible force. “The same night you found your way back to us you rushed into the woods on a near suicide mission to help me fight a monster we’re still not sure how to kill. Of course I wanted to check up on you. I was worried. You left my bedroom so suddenly last night that I didn’t even have time to ask how you were feeling. I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to come back. I wasn’t sure if we were ever going to see you again.”

Lizzie takes a breath, defeated. We, we, we – she has no right to be stung by the plurality of the word, but it gives her that feeling in the middle of her throat, like it runs dry, like one wrong word from Hope and she might break down in tears. 

“I want to make sure you’re okay”. Hope continues. “You’re my best friend”. 

And that’s the tragedy of it. She’s Hope’s best friend. Anything beyond that is nothing but something she could only clearly wish for in another timeline. One where Hope doesn’t know about her baggage, one where they got a clean slate to restart their history, no rumors, no backhanded comments…

“Me too”. Lizzie whispers. She brings her thumb up to brush over the side of Hope’s hand. 

She thinks about holding it. She almost does, until –

“Yo, guys. We should get this show on the road”. Jed interjects, seemingly out of nowhere, picking up the book Lizzie had discarded on the table earlier and hopping over the banister towards the center table in the now empty library, where the rest of the squad has now gathered around one of Wade’s Dungeons and Dragons books. 

By the time Lizzie pulls her hand back and they both gather around the table, Wade’s already settled in with the group.

“– That’s the thing though. Dimensional Warpers don’t usually engage in combat, but they do like learning about their enemies and their battle tactics. They’re not usually ones to initiate but they’ll fight if they sense that their life is in danger.”

“That explains why it disappeared last night and didn’t come back”. Hope pushes her way in between MG and Jed at the front and center of the table. “Do you think it’s after something?”

“Maybe. I can’t imagine another reason why Malivore would’ve spit that particular monster out. They’re elusive, hard to kill, and they only come out at night. Their night vision is impeccable”. 

“How do we kill it?” 

“Well, they are giant, bipedal, flying snakes, but they’re still snakes. I think we all know what the easiest way to kill one is –”

“Cut off it’s head”. Lizzie deadpans. Everyone turns, and Lizzie stands on the other side of the table, looking intently at the picture of the creature on Wade’s book. 

And Hope, looking at the magical artifacts on the far side display, slumps her shoulders. 

“We’re gonna need a very big sword”. 

------

[ 3 WEEKS AGO ]

“Is your name Lizzie Saltzman?” 

“Yes”. Between two slender and shaky hands, an orb flashes blue. 

Across the antique, expensive looking desk in front of her, and a family portrait in the space where a tinted window used to sit, Klaus Mikaelson looks at Hope with concern and curiosity. Hope, looking taller and prouder as her hand rests upon Klaus’ leather chair, gives him a side eye. 

She remembers Klaus from when she was younger, just as intimidating and commanding as he had been the day he’d sought out their help to save Hope from the Hollow all those years ago. She also remembers the Klaus she’s read about, in the books tucked away in the very same library a couple of doors down the hallway; the tales about The Great Evil. The boogeyman to end them all. The man who had terrorized Mystic Falls and claimed New Orleans like a dynasty, the man who had courted her mother until the day he died — but she also remembers the Klaus Mikaelson that Hope had told her about. The father. The man weighed down by the consequences of his choices and the drive to ensure his family’s survival, their safety, no matter the cost. In one universe, it had already cost him his life. In this one, the story seems to have been painted differently. 

In this story, Hope is different. She’s prouder, she wears a scowl like armor but not with the purpose of pushing everyone away. This Hope reminds her of an heiress. Someone destined to inherit something bigger and greater than herself. Maybe it’s all this, Lizzie thinks. The Mikaelson School. Maybe it’s another kingdom entirely. 

She looks… Good. Really good. 

“Are you Alaric Saltzman’s daughter?” Hope continues. 

“Yes”. Blue again. 

“That doesn’t make any sense”. Klaus moves to take the orb from her hands, but Hope is faster — much faster — grabs his father’s arm before he can snatch it. 

“Dad, you can’t fool the magical lie detector. They’re simple yeses or no's”.

Klaus respects her, she can tell, because he backs off and opens a drawer in his desk, takes out a heavy looking file — and pulls out a picture of her dad. He puts it in front of her. 

“This man is your father?” He asks her again. 

“Yes”. 

And like clockwork, the orb shines blue again. 

“That doesn’t make any sense —” Lizzie goes to interject but Klaus holds his finger up, standing from his chair with his hands behind his back, circling around the office like a man with a decision to make. Technically he is… a man with a decision to make. About her. 

Which really, really gives her the chills. The bad kind. 

“— You see, Alaric is a slobber of a drunk man who unfortunately lost his wife on his wedding day. He was supposed to father two children, twins actually, and his psychopathic to-be brother-in-law murdered his fiancé at the altar. His daughters perished with her. He lost his Tenure at Mystic Falls High, now teaches a second-rate-history class at a local college, and he let the rest of his dreams die in the bottom of a bottle of stale whiskey and fatty liver disease. That man never got to father any children. He’s barely a man at all. No purpose. No drive”.

“Apparently not in this life —” Lizzie mutters. The orb flashes blue and Hope’s eyes immediately snap to Lizzie’s. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” She’s the one taking the orb from her hands in a blink of an eye. She’s fast. Really fast. It takes her a second to realize, as Hope holds it between her fingertips and looks at her with blind distrust, that the Hope in this universe might not be jaded by the loss of her family, but this one might be jaded by something else.

Like her own death.

Oh. 

“You’re gonna want to sit down for this one”.

------

The Mikaelson School library is even bigger than The Salvatore School’s. The Stallions were branded as the rich, spoiled, and troubled children of Mystic Falls, but the Mikaelson school rivals the self-made stereotype by a tenfold. Lizzie’s staring at a row of books about magic she could have only ever dreamed of reading — it’s obvious to her that Klaus Mikaelson’s vision for a school for the Supernatural was slightly different than her father’s. Somewhere witches, vampires, werewolves and others could live their powers to their full potential. 

She picks a book from the rack, takes another one down with it, but Hope catches it before it can fully fall off the shelf — Necromancy: The Art of the Undead — and pushes it back in its place. 

“If what you told me is true then your father built a school with the same purpose my father did”. She offers. This Hope, now a little less guarded and lit by the light of the full moon by the library window, is much softer, willing to momentarily let her guard down around the pretty stranger with the wavy blonde hair. “He wanted a place where I felt like I belonged. Somewhere he could offer a safe haven not only for me, but for all the witches, all the vampires, and all the werewolves who are forced to do all of this all on their own. The world is cruel and unrepentant. My dad knows that. So he and my mom bought this mansion, expanded it, and made it into a school for the Supernatural. It’s taken off since; we have a branch in Belgium and another one in development in South America. Argentina. Something about the wine…”

For the first time since she’d been blindly dropped into this dimension, Lizzie smiles. But after a much noticeable glance at Lizzie’s lips, Hope continues. “We thought all the Gemini witches were dead. They’re rare. Powerful —” Hope says. It takes a second for Lizzie to notice she’s sizing her down. 

She doesn’t want to talk about how that makes her feel. 

“You have to take someone’s magic to use it, right?” 

And Hope offers her hand. Lizzie’s brows furrow, but she takes it anyway. She’s siphoned magic from Hope before, but not a fully triggered Tribrid Hope. When she drains her power Lizzie feels an adrenaline rush like no other, like sticking her hand directly into a fuse box and taking all the energy in Mystic Falls with it. She watches Hope carefully for any sign of pain, but Hope doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t move, only watches their joined hands. 

Then Lizzie raises her wrist, flicks it, and closes all the doors of The Mikaelson school in simultaneous fashion, making the building tremble. 

“Something like that”. Lizzie grins and Hope lets her hand go. She’s grinning back and Lizzie doesn’t know why that makes her feel drunker than taking all that power from her. “The stronger the source the stronger and the magic we can do, but we can take from anything that’s come in contact with magic. This building, for example. A vampire, a werewolf — miscellaneous…” 

“Well, here at the Mikaelson school we’re always looking for other powerful witches. I know you want to go back home eventually, once we figure out how to send you back, but if you want to stay, we can make room for you.”

They walk past the archway, to a display case with magical artifacts and weapons of all kinds. Some she recognizes, like the dagger that had started it all that brutally eventful day when Rafael joined the school, the urn, an enchanted compass, Papa Tunde’s blade…

“We’ve collected those over the years”. Hope motions to the display case. “Some of them were already in my dad’s possession before we put them here. The display case was enchanted by my aunt, so it’s practically impenetrable and impossible to open unless you’re a Mikaelson, but my mom thinks it’s important to teach these kids everything we can about magic and everything that could hurt them. Some of them —” She continues, sliding her finger over a display case of weapons. “— are just purely decorative though”. 

Lizzie watches Hope’s finger land on the glass over a large broadsword. 

“What exactly do you know about my family?” Hope asks. When she looks at the display again, Lizzie can see her own reflection next to Hope’s on the glass, and when she looks closer at the weapon, their faces on the side of the broadsword. 

“Oh, you have no idea”. 

------

[ PRESENT DAY]

Sparks cloud Lizzie’s vision. At the old mill, in the dead of night, Hope sharpens a sword Lizzie thinks is larger than her standing up. She’d poke fun at her, for wielding such a big weapon for such a small person, but if the past few weeks — days — weeks — whatever, had taught her anything, is how immeasurable the power Hope wields at her fingertips is. Maybe she could provide them both with a quip, if she wasn’t so busy staring at her, agape. 

God, get it together, Lizzie. 

She clears her throat and Hope stops. 

“Hey! I thought we could get a head start with this old thing. Your dad kept it downstairs but I think it’ll give us the firepower we need. It’s a shame though, it’d make for a nice decoration”. 

Lizzie wants to laugh. No, it would make for an awful piece of decoration. She’d seen it displayed neatly on a case, but ancient artifacts and old swords make her think of ancient cursed castles and the ghosts within them. 

“So asks-too-many-questions Hope has now become knight-in-shining-armor Hope. I gotta say, I think I like this version a little bit better”. 

“Because I’m not asking questions?” Hope challenges. 

“That’s part of it”. 

They both laugh, look at each other as Lizzie takes her place beside Hope, until Hope goes stoic again. She puts the blade down, wipes her hands on her dark jeans. 

“Lizzie, I know this isn’t by far the most threatening monster we’ve ever faced but, I think you should stay inside the school. Kaleb and I designed a foolproof plan to kill the —”

“Why are you sidelining me?” Lizzie frowns. “I was of perfectly good help last time you almost got sucked into a portal too, remember?”

“That’s not what I meant —”

“Then what do you mean Hope? I know this isn’t about glory. So what is it? Martyrdom? Pushing people who care about you away?” 

And Hope is surprisingly calm, despite the tension in Lizzie’s voice, despite the way she raises it, despite the way it cuts through the sound of the chirping crickets in the woods. “No. It’s the opposite, actually. It’s about trying to keep the people I care about safe. I don’t want you to end up somewhere you won’t be able to come back to us if we risk it”. 

“What about Kaleb, then? Surely you care about him”. 

A beat.

“Not the way I care about you”. 

They stand there, in the cold of the Old Mill, looking at each other as Hope picks up the sword on the table, and Lizzie realizes for the first time, Hope is making an entirely selfish decision… And it’s all about her. 

#hizzie #hizzie fanfiction #hizzie fic #hope x lizzie #legacies fanfiction

[stressisakiller]

My Sunflower My Star

Buck Barnes x reader Soulmate AU

 (Hello Sunflower Part 2)

Summary:  Your soul mark appears on your 18th birthday. What do you do when your father is a part of Hydra and your soul mark binds you to the Winter Soldier.

Warnings: None really, bit of violence, couple of cuss words

Word Count: 2.6k 

A/N: New Edit 3/18: Mostly minor things but still worth a reread Here is the revised chapter two. Let me know what you think and if you have any requests for future parts. Also I originally got the idea for this after reading Wolf, Partner Gloves... by @revengingbarnes so check it out!

Flashbacks are in Italics

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It was on one of your missions when you had first seen it, the sunflower on his hip. He was changing after taking his shower and in your mind everything clicked. You stared at it mesmerized, you could see the scars littered across its length from where Hydra tried to remove it from his skin. But it was still as vibrant as the mark that graced your hip. You were pulled out of your reverie by an almost imperceptible chuckle coming from the usually stoic soldier.

 “Like what you see, doll?” You immediately averted your eyes, fighting to hide the telltale blush that you could feel coloring your cheeks. 

“I didn’t mean to stare, I just realized that I had never seen your soul mark before. Do you know who it is?” You asked, trying to steer the conversation away from your obvious staring. 

“No,” he looked confused, “I don’t believe I do, I can’t remember.” his brow was furrowed as he traced the tattoo. He shook his head, ridding his face of emotion, gone was the man, and the soldier stood in his place. 

Laying down with your back to him you let your mind wander. His tattoo was a sunflower, of course, it was, why else would you decide to call him that. Why else would your phrase work? Why else would he recognize you even when he couldn’t actually remember why? The nickname that you gave to him was his tattoo. You let tears fall from your face for the first time since you discovered your own soul mark. You cried for the future that you may never have with him, you cried for the pain he had endured because of your mark on his skin. And when all of your tears had been shed you allowed anger and determination take their place. You would not allow him to lie the rest of his life under the thumb of hydra, you would die before you let that happen. So in that cold hotel, you began to plan, you were going to save the winter soldier even if it killed you.

 So, as you fought to pin him on that concrete you hoped against hope that he would remember.

Pinning him, you could see the shift in his eyes as he recognized you. He had spent way too much time with you as the winter soldier to truly forget you. You spoke quickly and quietly to him between breaths. There was a flicker in his eyes as you spoke, spurring you on. His eyes weren’t completely clear showing that he was still in soldier mode, so you did the only thing you could think of, the only thing that you knew would get him moving. You gave him an order. 

"Soldier, change in mission, you are to come with me." You saw the flash of confusion on his face, gone as quickly as it arrived and you prayed that he would listen. He nodded and turned to follow you. You sprinted to the nearest car and hopped in. Catching Steve’s eye from the other side of the bridge. You looked at the girl next to him, knowing she would understand, you quickly signed "trust me" to her, she nodded and pulled on Steve's arm, letting him know what you said. He nodded at you before allowing her to pull him with her to follow Nat and escape

You rushed to get the car moving, throwing it into gear before peeling out and driving in the opposite direction as Steve and Natasha. You pressed the gas harder as the sound of sirens reached you, Hydra wouldn’t be far behind. You drove fast, weaving through the cars, noticing the cars following behind you as hydra started to catch up. Then you saw it, the opportunity you needed to escape, a way for them to believe you dead, or at least lost. The river. You looked over at Bucky his eyes were clearer than they were on the bridge. They mirrored the same determination you were feeling. He nodded and you turned the wheel. It felt as if time slowed as you hit the guardrail, the car careening into the murky water below.

You blinked the darkness from your eyes at the impact. The cold water rushing into the car and throwing your brain into high gear. There were gunshots above you, you would have to stay under as long as you possibly could. It was imperative that you made it as far away from the bridge and the hydra agents as you could.  Looking over at Bucky you both took a deep breath as the water closed over your heads. Everything felt muted as you escaped the flooded car, you swam, kicking your legs as hard as you could, using the current to drag your farther and farther downriver.

You burst out of the water coughing and gasping when you couldn’t hold your breath any longer. You scanned the water, looking for any sign of Bucky that you could find, You started to panic when you couldn’t see him. Shit, what if he didn’t make it, what if he got out earlier than you, what if something happened? Your swirling thoughts were interrupted by a head of dark brown hair bursting out of the river downstream from you. Gasping for air just as you had a few moments ago, your heart squeezed in your chest, tension leaving you at seeing him alive. You swam over to him, making your way to the bank of the river. Only exiting the river when you found an area that would mask your exit from anyone that came looking.

 You grabbed Bucky’s arm pulling him after you. Running towards the buildings lining the river, finding an alley to duck into you took a moment to assess your surroundings. You had a mental map in your mind of DC, thanks to all of your time on missions here. You took a second to figure out where you were in relation to your safe house. Bucky remaining blessedly quiet, letting you take the lead, scanning the area for any threats. You finally figured out the best way to get to your safe house without getting caught, mostly ducking through alleys and deserted side streets. It had been dark for a couple of hours by the time you arrived at the door of the nondescript brick building you had chosen.

You were shivering from head to toe as you walked around to the fire escape, using a hidden pole to pull the ladder from its place above your heads. You started up the ladder, waiting for Bucky when you reached the first landing. When he was safely beside you, you pulled the ladder back up so that you couldn’t be followed. You climbed to the middle floor of the building, you had set up traps on the floors above and below making it the safest place in the building. You pulled a brick out from near the window, taking the key you hid inside to open the locked window. You slipped through the small opening, pausing to listen for any hints that someone else was in the room. When you were mostly confident that it was just you, you pulled your gun from its holster and turned on one of the gas lamps.

You didn’t have to worry about anyone looking in since you had blackout curtains over each of the windows; the cameras that you had placed around the building gave you ample view of anyone that walked by. You walked through each room of the empty apartment checking every nook and cranny before holstering your pistol. Turning on a couple more lights and the heater, you walked back into the main living area. You smiled at the sight of Bucky standing in the middle of the room looking like a lost puppy, something that you would have never attributed to him before that moment. For the first time in months, you were able to relax. You motioned for him to sit at the table, walking towards the kitchen to make some dinner. You hadn’t eaten all day and you knew that Bucky was probably in the same boat. 

“Any requests for food?” you asked, glancing at the soldier. He was sitting in the chair as straight as a rod, muscles tense in case he needed to defend himself. You hated how Hydra had ruined his ability to feel safe. He moved his gaze from scanning the room to staring at your face. You waited patiently for him to answer, knowing that he wasn’t used to being asked for an opinion. 

“Umm, I don’t really know what foods I like, so anything is fine.” He finally said, looking self-conscious. You tread over to him, taking care to appear harmless, noticing the small tensing of his shoulders every step you took towards him. You held your hands out in surrender, kneeling in front of him to make your presence less threatening.

“I swear to you, you will never have any reason to fear me. I am here to help, and I could never hurt you. You are safe here, Hydra won’t find you here and if they do I will have your back until they are dead or I am.” you spoke softly but he could hear the conviction in your voice, and for some reason it made him trust you. He felt like he knew you and he was trying to figure out why. He nodded to you and you headed back to the stove, making a simple meal of grilled cheese and tomato soup. You placed the food in front of him and sat on the other side of the table, relaxing at the warmth of the food and the knowledge that at least for tonight you and Bucky were safe.

You discretely studied the man across from you. Taking a moment to look at your soulmate. A peaceful moment where you weren't being forced to fight him or stuck on a mission where you felt conflicted by the actions you were forced to commit. You just got to see him. You could tell that his hair was longer than the last time you saw him. The black that they had placed around his eyes was running down his cheeks from the river water. He was as buff as you had ever seen him and his metal arm was the same as always with the red star on his shoulder. But it was his eyes that captured your attention. Those piercing blue eyes were looking at you with confusion and just a hint of hope as he silently ate his food. His eyes were so much more expressive and so very different than when he was brainwashed. You gave him a small smile when you noticed his gaze. After you both finished stuffing your faces you set down your fork, took a deep breath, and spoke. 

"Alright," you paused, worried that you were about to regret the words coming out of your mouth, "ask me anything" He took a second, you swore you could see the gears turning in his head. 

"The man on the bridge, he knew me?" He spoke slowly as if tasting the words as they crossed his tongue. You gave him a small smile, and nodded, 

"Yes, he knew you, very well actually,” you took a deep breath and started playing with your fingers, “his name is Steve Rogers and you grew up together. Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, but your friends call you Bucky." He studied you intently while you reached around your neck and took off his dog tags, handing them to him, "these are yours, you were in WWII, and in 1943 you fell off a train and were captured by Hydra, you were brainwashed and frozen. They took you in and out of cryo, using you to do their bidding before throwing you back in." He slowly nodded, taking in your words and mulling them over before speaking. 

"I don't fully remember what all happened or what all I did but that sounds right." He raised his eyes to look straight at you again, "And you, I know you"

 You took a sip of your drink placing it carefully on the table before speaking 

"Yes, you know me" you started chewing on your lip as you decided how to proceed. "My father worked for Hydra since before I was born and when I was 10 they started testing on me. My father would take me with him and have me watch as they would put you in and out of cryo. I hated him before but seeing the torture and pain they put you through was what made me decide to find a way to get us both out. Then I turned 18, and everything went to hell. I got my soulmarks and blatantly disobeyed him. He had enough and tried to wipe me, they had done it before when I was younger, but this time they couldn't. I was too stubborn and already had a purpose that superseded anything that they could do. But I let them believe that they had won, that the brainwashing had worked. They had me fight and train with you as well as occasionally go on missions with you, once they believed me under their control." You saw the hint of a smile on his face as he recalled 

"You would always say that phrase, the one you said on the bridge." His gaze on you was intense and you couldn’t fight the smile that was threatening to escape, 

"Privet, podsolnukh, solntse vzoshlo, i tvoi mechty ispolnilis'. Hello, sunflower the sun is up and your dreaming is done. The sunflower is my favorite flower and so it seemed fitting for you."  There was an emotion in his eyes at that moment that you couldn't name. 

"You mentioned your soul marks, you have two?" You nodded slowly at his question, "… may I see them?"

 You felt as if your heart was stuck in your throat, for the first time since you turned 18 you felt ashamed of the tattoo that masked one of your marks. Unable to say anything you nodded and stood. Lifting the right side of your shirt and pulling the waist of your pants down just enough to see your tattoo. He stared at your hip a moment before looking up at your face,

 "I don't understand" he murmured as he looked back down at the night sky inked on your skin. 

You took a deep breath and started to explain, "My soul mark is a star, a red star," you pointed to the original star before continuing, "I couldn't let them use it against me so I got a tattoo to disguise it." You could see the question swirling in his eyes and you nodded. It felt electric when he brushed his finger over the star, and you couldn't help the gasp that passed your lips. He smiled, truly smiled, and it was in that moment that you decided you would spend the rest of your life doing whatever you could to see that smile again.

"And the other one?" he asked finally pulling his gaze from your hip. You quietly pulled up the sleeve of your shirt to show him the flowers and the wolf. Understanding crashed over him and he let out a breathy laugh.

"The Howling commandoes, it's referencing the unit that I was apart of with Steve near the end of the war, although I'm sure what the flowers mean."

"I looked them up," you offered, continuing when he nodded to you, "The Marigold is the flower for your birth month, it also means warm and undying love, as well as grief and sorrow. The Daisy stands for new beginnings, baby's breath is for everlasting, unconditional love, and the gladiolus is for strength and integrity." but the time you finished speaking you could see the tears in his eyes as the reality of what fate had placed on you to represent him sank in. He didn't say anything before he stood and lifted the left side of his shirt and you got to see the sunflower that extended from his hip up to his ribs, full of life and color, so different to the soldier that Hydra had made him into. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you looked at him.

 "It is nice to officially meet you, my sunflower." You couldn’t help the watery laugh that escaped as he said those words. 

"It's nice to meet you my star, I have wished for this every day since I first got my marks." You replied. With that, he pulled you into his arms and you decided that this was your favorite place to be.

Tagged users: @calwitch @writerwrites

#bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #avengers #marvel imagine #soulmate au #hello sunflower

[the-firebender-girl]

Teacher’s Pet (Zuko x Reader) : Part 1

-> Fire Lord Zuko meets his daughter’s favorite teacher.

*Y/H/C: Your hair color

Warning: The storyline is a bit depressing at first, there’s a mention of death and a lot of self deprecating thoughts.

A princess of the Fire Nation. A title that should’ve guaranteed that she can get anything and everything that her heart desire, but Princess Izumi’s life is far cry from the fairytale life of princesses in her bedtime stories.

To feel a mother’s love, that is her one true desire for as long as she can remember. What she constantly seeks from the moment that she understands that there is a missing puzzle in her life. A hollow gap.

There hasn’t been a Fire Lady of the nation ever since Izumi came into this world. Her birth also marks the day that her mother passed away due to immense blood loss after childbirth, life and death hovering soo close together, one soul in exchange for another. There wasn’t even a celebration in her name, only a funeral. What was supposed to be a joyous occation turned sorrowful. The nation was in mourning for their lost queen.

At the age of 13 years old, Izumi can’t help the grim thoughts that constantly plagued her mind, “You did this... your mother died because of you”. A nightmarish and hideous burden indeed for such a young mind to bear. Of course no one ever said that to her face, but she can feel it, in the quiet whispers exchanged between her fellow students or teachers, in the pitying glances that the palace staff throws her way when they thought she’s not looking, or maybe even in the way that she still sees the longing stare of her father.. late at night.. standing in front of the late queen’s portrait.

They all think that she doesn’t know, doesn’t notice, doesn’t understand. But she does. After all she is a child who is forced to deal with great loss way too soon, and that changes a person regardless of his or her age.

———————————————————————

Fire Lord Zuko showers his daughter with love and attention, never letting his responsibilities towards the nation get in the way of being the best father that he can be. Izumi deserves the world and he intend to give it to her.

Looking at his daughter’s face brings him both immense bliss and grief. She is the splitting image of her mother, a piece of her that is left in this world from her sudden departure. An ache that will probably never go away for the rest of his miserable existence. Maybe it’s just Zuko’s bad luck, the people who he loves most always got taken away from him one way or another. Why would it stop now?

Despite his best efforts, Zuko sees his daughter becoming more distant as she grew older. He tried to reach for her but he too is downspiraling. Down and down and down the both of them go. How are they supposed to save each other when they’re pretty much stuck in the same dark hole with no sign of escape or an end to it?

The least that he could do for her is sign her up to a normal Fire Nation private school, not to the Royal Fire Academy for Girls as tradition demands. He doesn’t want her to live a sheltered life just as how he and Azula was raised. Cloistered and living amongst tight circle of nobilities, never knowing how the rest of the people live. He wants Izumi to see the world at full extend and so he did, in hope that one day she’ll be a great and just ruler, a champion beloved by her people, his gift for her should all else fails.———————————————————————

Izumi loves school, the only chance for her to get away and buried herself amongst books, nothing else exists and she let herself got carried away. Absorbing as much knowledge as she could to fill her mind with light and possibilities. Of wisdom and science, both old and new.

She has a handful of friends at school, but even then she prefers to spend her time alone. Spending breaks in the library or aimlessly wandering the school ground.

But perhaps a change is in order as a new face entered the school in the form of her art teacher. The former art teacher, Laoshi Zhixin is a lazy old man who made a hobby of neglecting his every duty, Izumi often wonders how he even managed to land this job since he clearly has no passion for it whatsoever. “Good riddance,” she thought.

The replacement teacher though, she is entirely something else. “A walking living art,” that’s how the rest of the students describe her, Izumi hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting her though, not until today as it is her class’s turn for the subject.

When Izumi walked into the art classroom and saw her, she finally understood what the buzz is all about. And she too sees why people described her that way.

Laoshi Y/N is young for a teacher, from the looks of it she’s probably still in her early twenties. Her (Y/H/C)* hair is pulled into a messy bun, the skin along her arms are covered with dry plain splotches in several different colors. A kind smile gracing her lips as she watched every student who enters her classroom one by one.

When all of them are seated in front of an easel, she walked to the center of the room and opened her arms wide to the side in a welcoming gesture.

“Good morning students! i’m Laoshi Y/N, your new art teacher” She started chirpily.

A chorus of good mornings and hello Laoshi Y/N resounded around the room.

“Today we’re going to paint, as you can see i’ve taken the liberty to set up the easel and blank canvas for you.”

A few students groaned but then one of her classmates raised his hand, “Are we going to attempt to remake a drawing of landscape just like Laoshi Zhixin always makes us do?”

Laoshi Y/N eyebrows quirked, “No, not at all” her statement is followed by lots of relieved sigh. Even Izumi must admit that if she has to paint one more of those stupid lakes and hillside she would’ve chuck her canvas.

“So what then?” a different student voiced the question.

Laoshi Y/N chuckled, “Patience, we’re just getting there”

“I want you to paint... emotions”

Izumi’s face morphed into one of confusion, but she’s not alone, the rest of her classmates have the same look plastered on their faces.

“Let me elaborate, by emotions I don’t mean face or a drawing of a human smiling or crying and the likes. I want you to pick an emotion and imagine it in your mind, if it has a form what do you think it would look like? what color would it has? reach deep inside and pick an emotion that resonate with you. Be it happiness, sadness, fear, anger, or surprise... help it takes form”

Now this is a lesson that she has never received in any of her prior classes, one that she can learn to appreciate. Laoshi Y/N brought something new to the game, something fresh, what art is supposed to be like in the first place.

“Is my instruction clear enough or is there any other question?” she clapped her hands once, “None? alright then chop chop”

Sounds erupted around the room, scrapping of dragged stools, clatter of paint trays, the tapping of paint brushes against glass of water. The atmosphere itself came to life.

Izumi look fixedly at the blank canvas in front of her, contemplating long and hard about which emotion she would pick. What was Laoshi Y/N’s words again? “...pick an emotion that resonate with you” now that would be quite a challenge. Izumi’s inside is a maelstrom of emotions, trying to pick it apart from one other is an impossible task. Even she herself never understood what exactly it is that she’s feeling most of the time.

“Chaos” she thought to herself. That’s the word she’s looking for, what best describes her inner turmoil. And that is what she’s going to paint or at least attempt to, we’ll see.

———————————————————————

Y/N walked around the classroom, observing her students work one by one. So far most of them picked either happiness or anger, that much is clear by their choice of colors or the stroke of their brushes. She hummed a tune under her breath, murmuring encouragement or approval every now and then.

As she neared the back row, a piece caught her attention. This one is not made of the bright colors of happiness or fiery ones of anger, the brush strokes neither soft or harsh. Black, dark grey, and deep blue, those are the main color components. Growing darker the closer it gets to the center. But there’s also a few nebulous strokes of angry bright red and some splatter of murky green. The longer Y/N stare at the painting, the more its unrest clawed at her, submerging her into it.

Y/N realigned her focus towards the painter, reigning in her surprise when she realized who it is. Izumi, Fire Lord Zuko’s only child. It made her even more curious as to what goes on inside that mind for her to create this piece? Of course she knows all about the tragedy that has befallen their family, but never did she once consider of the depth of the impact. What it did to this girl who is now under her care.

“What’s the name of your painting?” she asked her.

Izumi’s hand halted mid air, she was too engrossed in her pursuit to pay attention to her surroundings. Realizing too late that now her teacher is standing right behind her.

Izumi glanced over her shoulder, “Chaos... I call it chaos”

“A fitting name” Y/N replied, once again letting her eyes roam over it. “Any particular reason why you chose to paint this?”

“You told us to paint what resonates most with us and this is it for me” Izumi said complete with a shrug.

Y/N can see past the walls that this girl put up around her, separating her from the rest of the world. There is indeed a chaos brewing inside, plain as day, but she knows it’s not her place to pry. So she offered her some words to ponder over instead.

“Art is a media to freely express oneself be it in the form of melodies, dances, or in my case drawings. Should words fails to explain, art is the substitute... maybe you’ll find some comfort in it too” Y/N said, sending a smile her way. There is soo much more she wish she could do for her, but for now she hopes that this is enough. She laid one hand on her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze before she turned to survey the others.

Izumi stiffened in her seat as what her teacher’s said sinked in. No one has ever bothered to reach out to her, let alone comfort her in any way. They probably think that she’s got it all figured out and the material things that she got at her disposal are more than enough to deal with the loss. After all she’s a princess, there are others who suffer more and worst. But does that make her less deserving of their sympathy? for her pain to be acknowledge?

And yet Laoshi Y/N gave that support to her, a mere stranger. Freely, without as much as a second thought. And for the first time in many years, Izumi felt hope blooming inside her, that there is someone who is capable of understanding her. Of seeing her past the crown, fancy robes, palaces, title... and see the broken girl inside.

———————————————————————

That very same day at sometime past 3 in the afternoon, Izumi is done with the rest of her classes. But she found her feet taking her once again in front of the art classroom. Spying the lone silhouette moving inside through the tinted glass. She raised a hand, hesitating for a second, but then decided to knock in the end.

“Come on in” came the soft reply.

The door made a creaking sound as it swung open, revealing Laoshi Y/N who is sitting in front of an easel located at the very front of the room. She spared a glance her way, “Ahh Izumi, it’s you”

“I’m sorry ma’am, am I interrupting? I can come back another time” She asked hesitantly.

“No, dear. Don’t be shy, come and take a seat beside me” Y/N replied, gesturing her to come closer with her free hand.

Izumi dragged a stool and position it to her teacher’s left side. Taking her place there. Izumi watched her, admiring the expert stroke of her fingers. She’s drawing symbols... of all four nations together. It looks magnificent even in its nowhere near finished state.

Y/N dunked her paint brush into the bowl of water and set it aside. Shifting her attention on the girl sitting beside her.

“Is there anything that I can help you with?”

“To be honest... i’m not so sure myself ma’am” Izumi replied quietly.

“Well if you just want some company then you’re free to stay here for as long as you like, no talking required” Y/N said encouragingly.

“How long have you been painting? it looks incredible, I could’ve mistaken you for a professional painter” Izumi suddenly asked.

Y/N cocked her head to the side, pondering the answer, “All my life I guess, I started very young and now it has become a part of me”

“It must be nice to have an outlet for conveying your feelings” Izumi said again, “I find it hard to talk to the people around me, useless even”

“It certainly does... you know you can have one too if you want, I saw your painting earlier. You got a raw talent in you, dear one”

“Can you teach me? I don’t mind if we do it after class” Izumi asked, those amber eyes staring at her cautiously, but filled with hope nonetheless.

Y/N smiled at her, “I would gladly do that, starting tomorrow then?”

“Yeah...” Izumi answered, “—Tomorrow” that one word weighing in like a promise.

———————————————————————

Fire Lord Zuko scrunched his eyebrows, creating lines in his forehead. His daughter has been coming home late, far later than she should’ve. He knows for sure that school ends at 3, but everyday Izumi always comes home at 5 in the afternoon. At first he brushed it aside, thinking that it’s no big deal and she probably has an extra something to wrap up at school, but this has been going on for a month and Zuko can no longer turn a blind eye to it.

“Is she seeing someone? does she has a secret boyfriend that she’s been hiding for me?”

“Oh dear Agni, what if she’s involved with a gang now?”

“Is this a part of a normal teenage rebellious phase?”

A thousand thoughts running through his mind, becoming more and more ridiculous with every excuses that he conjured up.

“Perhaps you should simply ask her before you drove yourself mad” Uncle Iroh’s voice broke his train of thoughts. He even had the audacity to look amused.

Zuko groaned, “If only it were that easy, she never talks to me anymore, I feel like a failure of a father”

“Enough of this nonsense, Zuko. Go and talk to her right now” Iroh said with an edge of finality in his tone. “Only the two of you can fix this and it starts with opening up so that is what you’re going to do”

———————————————————————

Zuko founds himself standing in front of the ornament door that leads to Izumi’s parlour. Pacing back and forth, his anxiety sky-rocketting. He didn’t manage to get one more step before the door opened on its own, with Izumi standing behind it.

“I was just about to knock” Zuko stammered out, rubbing the back of his head.

“Your nervous pacing was so loud I heard it all the way from the bedroom” She replied matter of factly, looking at her father with a bored expression.

Izumi made a gesturing motion and took a sit at the divan. Zuko following in suit and made himself comfortable in an armchair across from her.

“Is there anything that I should be aware of?” He asked.

Izumi raised her eyebrow his way, “Why are you suddenly asking me this?”

“Because you, young lady, has been coming home late day after day and I would like to know why” Zuko said, his eyebrows once again scrunching in together, whether in confusion or agitation, Izumi couldn’t decide which.

“I have an after school painting lesson” She answered.

Of all the possibilities that Zuko considered, this was certainly not one of them.

“Have you taken up painting as a hobby then?” He asked curiously, silently determining whether or not this is a ruse.

“I wouldn’t say hobby... it’s more of an escape really”

“Escape from what? why do you need to escape? you have everything here in the palace”

“I don’t have what I need most though” Izumi replied came so quietly it was almost a whisper. “My new art teacher... Miss Y/N, she understands me, father. She not only listens but she truly make an effort to see inside me and see what i’m dealing with. My painting lessons with her, it helps me deal with the guilt and pain from losing mother. I know nobody could ever replace her, but for once in my life I think now I know how it feels to have one”

Zuko is stunned and that is putting it mildly. His daughter’s confession is like a slap to his face, a prove of how much he’s been neglecting her in the most important aspect of her life. Yes, he may have showered her with love and attention, but he left her to deal with her grief alone when he should’ve been there to steady her, to go through it together side by side. He lost a wife, but she lost her mother.

Before he even realized it, a sob escaped him and he is bawling right in front of his daughter when he should’ve been her rock. Tears streamed down Zuko’s face, “I’m sorry” he managed to whispered out, “I’m truly sorry”.

But then he’s engulfed in a warm hug, his daughter’s arms snaking around him like a cocoon. “It’s okay, father... I forgive you”

“I’m sorry too... I promise we’ll be better... that’s what mother would’ve want”

———————————————————————

After they made peace with the grief that has been keeping them prisoners all this time, it’s like a burden has been lifted from his shoulder, but nonetheless it left an empty space in him. And he just felt numb now.

But his daughter... Zuko watched as his daughter’s happiness grew, her smile brighter, her laugh louder. She talked non stop about her beloved art teacher slash confidant. The illustrious Miss Y/N. The beacon of light in his daughter’s life. Paint, and paint, and paint that’s all she ever do now, even Zuko’s office is decorated with all her finished artwork. Not that he’s complaining. He can see the talent in her and the passion that she has for it. If painting is what Izumi loves then he will support it in any manner possible.

But he owed her teacher a visit, maybe a “thank you” wouldn’t suffice for the differences that she has unknowingly brought into his life, but it’s a start. Then he’ll figure out what to do from there.

———————————————————————

The clock showed that it’s now 4 o’clock in the afternoon, “Strange” Y/N thought. The princess is nowhere to be seen when she’s usually already here right after the last school bell rang.

A knock pulled her out of her musing, thinking that it’s probably Izumi, she called out a “Come in, you’re already later than usual”

But nothing prepared her for the view that greets her. Her paint brush slipped through her finger and clatter on the ground as her mouth formed a perfect O as she now founds herself standing face to face with the Fire Lord and him alone.

“I’m sorry I came her unannounced, I told Izumi to take the day off since I wanted to talk to you” Zuko spoke, stating his intention.

Y/N mouth open and close a few times before she finally right her mind from the frenzy that it’s in, “Oh I see.. that’s alright really, Your Highness, no need to apologize”

“But about the talk... what could be so important that you came here in person?” She continues.

“I want to thank you, for everything that you have done for Izumi. She’s in a better place now and you help pulled her out from it, I could never thank you enough for that” Zuko said, giving her a warm smile that melts her inside. Stupid butterflies, you really have to appeared and make it worse don’t you?

“Izumi is lovely... there is soo much burden that she insisted on carrying on her own and I just extended a hand, to let her know that she’s not alone in this”

“—I would’ve done the same for anyone else, nobody deserves to feel alone and undeserving” She finishes, returning his smile with one of her own.

And as she smiles.... Zuko can feel the cracks that started appearing in his own armor, warm comforting lights filtering through the dark hollowness in his chest.

Maybe... just maybe he thought, Y/N is not only his daughter’s salvation, but perhaps she could be his too. Her smile... a promise of a distant chance in the future. Of a shot on happiness long dead and buried but not gone.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla aang #atla rewatch #avatar the legend of aang #aang #atla zuko #avatar zuko #zuko x reader #fire lord zuko #prince zuko #prince zuko fanfic #prince zuko imagine #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x you #zuko #zuko angst #zuko drabble #zuko imagine #zuko x you #atla fanfic #atla x you #atla x reader #atla drabble #atla imagine #atla imagines #atla angst

[dorki-c]

Fuck him up (if he hurts you)

Characters: Dabi, Fem.(Reader), Toga, Mr. Compress, Giran

Relationship: Dabi and (Reader)

A/N: Hey! I’m finally done with this one! Whoop! Whoop! It took a little while but I’m glad its done because to be honest...I really enjoyed writing this, but, I have other things that require my attention. Also! Happy belated bday Dabi!

 As always, PLEASE REBLOG AND LIKE! (ALSO COME JOIN MY VALENTINES EVENT, ALL YOU NEED TO DO IS CLICK HERE!)

TW: Threatening, Swearing and Cheating

Does anybody know the stages of getting over your cheating significant other?

It all starts out with denial- how bittersweet that filthy fucking word is-, although it doesn’t last long, when once you managed to eat at least five tubs of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream whilst watching the last show of some shitty soap opera, the next stage comes to bite your ass, anger- also known as throwing or burning your exe’s belongings that they left; however, I prefer burning it (they won’t be able to sell it if they come back).

Once those first two (rather tough) stages fly pass, this third one was like hitting the jackpot for me, but probably not for you, as the mental gamble caused lots of sexually frustrated people to bargain- to play the dice, you shall, but even gamblers don’t use the ‘third time is the charm’ as its utter bullshit- and then--!

OH GOD, HERE COMES FIVE MORE TUBS OF BEN & JERRY’S ICECREAM! THIS ONE IS A REAL KICKER! SOMEBODY HELP ME! THE LIVING ROOM IS FUCKING FLOODING WITH DEPRESSION- Yup, that was you five tubs of ice cream ago, maybe some chocolate might help…

At last, when the cleaning crew arrived, and you managed to accept- with the sunshine glowing down on your skin after four long stages of shit- with the fresh thought of buying a couple dresses that you saw on sale from that one adorable itty bitty corner shop.

But I’m not like that.

And here’s why in (you guessed it) 5 stages.

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

1. Discovery.

Rolling their shoulders backwards, a blanket fell backwards as a tall silhouette ghosted from the bedroom door that they left open.

When the bathroom light blinked to life, (y/n) faintly heard the screeching of the door shut on itself. Though, she knew her beloved boyfriend had to go to ‘work’, what she didn’t know was who made his phone ping at 7:15 in the morning.

Scooting over to the opposite side of the bed, blankets stuck to sweat-ridden skin as they coiled around her legs similarly to a snake and ensnared them to stay stuck and stationary. The plush pillows tried to lull her back to sleep. However, (y/n) wasn’t having any of it.

Reaching out to grab Dabi’s phone- even if he didn’t give you permission- the time was as you predicted, though the contents of his notifications bleeping up was something you didn’t predict. The background of his lock screen was something to behold as it was a picture of your concentrated form doodling in a sketchbook whilst a pale white cup stood beside two fresh slices of cake.

Shakily revealing the messaging app, there was around four or five unknown contacts, all listed under the people’s numbers.

Though one of them caught your eye.

Opening the chatroom, your free hand clutched the blankets.

Dabi is going to regret making you break the way you did that morning.

(He has no choice in doing so.)

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

2. Kicking the asshole out.

“Toga…?  C-can you come over, please.”

The TV presented the small-town news that had little to no intervention though that didn’t mould the female into a wish less mess where a gentle hand went to work and smooth out ensnared knots. “Are you okay now, (y/n)-chan?” You never heard Toga murmur before, but that’s the perks of being alive now.

(Y/n) released the trembling bubble of air out of her lungs and into the atmosphere, readying herself for that front door to open. Shaking your head to respond to Toga’s question, a small huff was released out of the other female’s chest.

The blonde female knew why you still weren’t okay.

Whoever walks through that door will have a profound effect on whatever will happen to (y/n).

However, with the slight nudge of her friend’s hand pinching the side of her sensitive waist, a yelp was released in surprise whereas the blonde villain giggled at the reaction. “Your so easy to scare, (y/n)-chan!” Toga loved to tease you, but in this time frame it wasn’t to make you feel uncomfortable but rather the opposite.

She wanted to make your thunder stricken heart rumble with rage in an unknown and bizarre way- but to also remind that you weren’t alone-, though, you had this bubbly and extra crazy best friend who brought over too many sweets for your stomach to handle alongside the annoyance that you hadn’t noticed Dabi’s strange and desolate nature.

As Toga picked up another opened bag of candy (I think they were ‘eclairs’), unwrapped the golden covering as the crinkling plastic fumbled like sparks dancing across the fingers in a tantalising rhythm. In an attempt to grab the bag, Toga was about to throw it across the room so you could get off her because, and I quote “You’re killing me with your weight!”, how lovely that compliment is for somebody who’s blood is like a glacier falling apart after a storm chipped the exterior and revealed the icy truth underneath.

And may God cover their eyes, as that chilling sharp edge at the tip of the glacier crumbles under Mother Nature’s will (so does the female when the familiar screech of the door revealing whoever is walking through reaches her ears).

Sluggishly dripping back onto the couch where at least three of the seven stocked up with fluff blankets- wrapped around drooped shoulders- had slid onto the floor, Toga made an effort to pick them up and stuff (piling) them next to the drowsy (y/n).

“I’m home, dollface!” A familiar voice hollered.

When both of the female’s heard that voice, there was no turning back to the past.

(Y/n) glanced to a duffel bag next to the couch, then glanced towards the teenager’s sinking rage as the blonde’s lips started to slip into a scowl.

A step almost turned into two, however, was held back by the puffy eyed female. “C-c-can I handle this…please?” They whimpered.

Toga really needs to gain a resistance to (y/n) cuteness when she’s sad.

Grabbing the duffel bag, two slippers shuffled (real smooth) around the couch to enter the hallway that led to the front door. Exactly where Dabi was about to take off his shoes.

“I recommend not taking your shoes off.” The pair of blue eyes looked up in confusion. “What? So, I can’t take off my own shoes in our home?” It sounded like a tease, but what if there was another meaning behind it?

Dabi, however, knew that familiar look of sharp-edges eyes where the glossy swirling of a singular emotion led to- and his teasing didn’t make the situation, he’s found himself in, any more light-hearted.

“This isn’t your home anymore,” Hissed (y/n), where (the fuck) did she get that attitude from?

“Who told you that you can throw me o—” The heavy duffel bag clutched in (y/n) clammy hands thud against Dabi’s chest, where his feet slid against the front door’s matt- his legs trembled at the impact the bag had on his chest- along with the rising cough that caught up to him after fleeing from a hero.

“Nobody—told me what to do.” Another sniff ensued, “But, I figured out the truth.” An eyebrow twitched upwards in anticipation as his hand bawled against his hip.

“Then tell me, what’s this big ass ‘truth’ you figured out?” Retorted the male with turquoise eyes watching her head droop towards the ground to hide something.

Raising it after a momentary pause, she glowered “You’re a bloody cheater, Touya.” When tears stained the red canvas again.

“Oh, so this is what it’s about…” Voice as nonchalant as shallow murky river water, “Do you even realise why I did it?” Rolling his eyes, two fingers wormed their way towards a special ring on her left hand before it hit the ground.

“I don’t want to know why.”

 ----------------------------------

3. Jealousy

It was sudden, quick, and loud how Toga came into your (lonely) apartment.

Bang went the door against the wall and crash went the multiple shoes from the shoe cabinet as they thudded against the floor.

“(Y/N)-CHAN! I HAVE GOOD NEWS!” Her shout was louder than the moans you would usually make when it was a pleasurable night with your (new) ex, however you shouldn’t dwell on past relationships.

Only moving your eyes slightly from the book gripped tightly in your hands, Toga sauntered over holding a suspiciously large bag, this only led one ping-pong ball bouncing back to another ping-pong ball within the crevasses of your mind.

Placing a ripped piece of paper in the book, it snapped shut, “Who did you kill?” questioned (y/n)- knowing that when Toga finds something, she will resort to violence, no matter the cost-, however the sweet smile presented as a defence for whatever action she committed was enough dull your concern.

 “Not telling ya!” Then getting a knife out- wait, where did that even come from-, Toga stabbed into the black plastic bag and tore it open with many- I mean tons- of clothes sliding out of the bag and becoming a miniature avalanche in the small space that is your living room.

“…H-how?” Sputtered (y/n), Toga replied: “Big sis’ Mags let us borrow some of her clothes!”

(Y/n) can only imagine how Toga managed to convince Magne to let her borrow some clothes off her, and by clothes, (y/n) could only assume its short skirts and dresses.

“But!” Added Toga, “we have to wait for Mr.C to pop up!”

Great, even Mr. Compress knows about your breakup with Dabi.

“Fine.”

.

.

.

Sitting pretty on a kitchen chair, a small brush lightly dabbed a small hint of colour against the rooftop of your eyes. “Why are we doing this, again?” Murmured the relaxed female as a small dress laid boringly over the torso where it edged closely to showing the backside of her thighs.

Chuckling in response to her inquisitive comment, the villain grabbed liquid eyeliner, although it was smacked out of his hand and replaced with pencil eyeliner matched with a scowl from his subject.

“Liquid eyeliner is cursed, don’t get that shit near me.”

“My, my, even somebody as classy as I wouldn’t offensively smack such an object—”

Oh boy, here we go again.

“Shush, I could easily get Big Sis Magne to beat your ass if you use that tone with me, sir.”— “Oh heavens no! I think Magne would pick my side out of the two of us!”— “Oh really now?”— “I believe—”

Another door slammed open and in stormed Toga in a confident catwalk down the hallway just to profoundly exclaim; “NOPE! SHE’LL CHOOSE ME AS THE CHOSEN ONE!”

Cue the laughter.

.

.

.

Before the sun was ready to roll itself out of the closet, the patchwork villain made his way under the thick cover of darkness to a certain broker’s office.

Pushing it open to let the light of the office room scream in his eyes before he even had the chance to speak, the older male that greeted him, offered him a seat.

“Hey Dabi, what brings you here to my humble abode?” Giran spoke out as the glistening cup of coffee placed in front of the wanderer reflected the light into its murky brown ripples. “I need you to trace this number to its origin, and quick.” Anxiously sliding his phone to showcase your number, the broker twitched his brow upwards.

“First and foremost, where’s the cash?” A thick wad of yen slammed against the table.

“Happy now?”— “Very much so!” Scowling at Giran’s happy chirp, the broker worked his magic on the burner phone to effectively trace the number back to your location, where Dabi soon enough made his way towards the destination you were at.

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this…

Nor why he still keeps the ring…

However, he knows what he’s going to say next.

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

4.  Anger

Simmering and low crackles of something in the kitchen of your apartment awoke the female from her drunken slumber.

What was being made and why does it smell so familiar? The waft of the meal being created swarmed the first stimulant within the hungover mind of yours truly as the wavering warmth rustled around your legs in an unspoken persuasive whisper to stay in bed.

However, curiosity killed the cat and also brought it back.

Two feet tapped the floor in alerted silence.

Tiptoeing across the room, a hand clenched the side of the doorway when two eyes surfed the surroundings outside of her den.

The sizzling stopped, with a small snap of fire going out.

At the same time this happened, it was then when she figured out who was in her kitchen: Him.

Him, with his tall stance that could make for a ladder to climb on or him with his broad shoulders that look like they were bricks squished underneath his skin, where his paired raven hair familiarly spiked up.

“What are you doing here?” If it wasn’t for the delicious food he was making, then you would’ve killed him on sight. A lacklustre glance at the female, he uses one of her spatulas to move the bacon from the frying pan onto a plate with plump golden coloured scrambled eggs.

“You were drunk, I brought you home, and am now making your hangover breakfast.” Placing the plate next to your arm resting against the counter, with another glance in your direction, Dabi made a finishing blow in the words of: “Since you can’t cook for shit.”

Oh boy, he knows you too well to expect your immediate reaction: anger.

From the built-up rage that started to stack up from days of unrest (and being bloated because of the several tubs of Bens & Jerry’s ice cream), it all started to splutter out of control.

“Oh-- So now your fucking attacking me after the shit you put me through?”

“Why should you know?” (Y/n) turned sour at his comment, “’Why’ I should know?!”

From the nearest counter, there was an empty glass. You took advantage of the potential weapon held it up ready for it to slam against the ground.

“(Y/n) -- put the glass down.” Warned the patchwork male.

With the tips of her ears feeling ever so hot, it felt like the pressure escalating within her ears caused only for her protests to be heard even through the pause of silence.

“(Y/n).” A small twitch of one of his feet made (y/n) flinch backwards. “Com’ on, I know you don’t want to hurt me.” He took another step toward, her grip tightened on the glass cup.

“Do you even know why I’m here?”

“No,” Moving her hand higher, Dabi took another step forward, (Y/n) took another step back, “And I don’t want to kno—” Blubbering a bit of salvia as the female attempted to speak, though it was incoherently heard through squished cheeks.

“Listen, for fucks sake,” Electric blue eyes pierced into your soul like a spear, it’s quite hilarious: You once loved those blue eyes of his, you once worshipped the feeling of his eyes raking down your nude body before- as they took in the sight of pleasure squirming and tightening underneath those diligently flexible fingers-, but those days are over.

He can worship your goddamn forgiveness if he’s going to restrain you like this.

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

5. Forgiveness

“That’s what happened.”

Two legs of your own were crossed over each other like two birds of a feather.

“Are you being honest with me?”

His hand tapped the table as he sat across from you.

“Yes, I’m being honest.”

Breathing inwards and releasing a slow, practiced breath. She glanced at the male’s awaiting expression.

“Okay…”

Biting his ruined lip, the raven-haired male let out a breath of relief.

“Will you forgive me?”

She wishes she could.

“I’m not so sure yet…”

Dabi looked to the side to see (y/n) with both of his eyes.

“But, I’ll give you one last try.”

Taglist: 

@glitterfreezed, @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku, @haredabi, @orenjineki

JOIN THE VALENTINES WRITING EVENT HERE!

#tw: swearing #TW: Cheating #Fem! reader #dabi mha #dabi x reader #dabi imagine #dabixyou #Dabi lives rent free in my mind #mild yandere! reader #dorki talks like a dabi simp #dabi lives rent free in my mind #villain x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #bnhaxyou #mha #mha x reader

[vosh-rakh]

meeting of the minds

Ku-vastei wearily steps inside from the rain, slamming the round metal door behind her. She begins to wring out her robes, swearing to every god and saint she knows under her breath.

A heavily-armored man draws his sword and points it towards her. “What are you doing here, slave?”

Too tired to speak, Ku simply glares at the cyrod as she continues to dry herself off.

“How did you get up here?” pursues the warrior, stepping closer. “These are Master Aryon’s private -”

Before he can take another step, a daedric spearpoint materializes in xanthous light at his throat, freezing him in place. “Come no closer, n’wah,” Ku declares, her tired voice deep and rumbling, “if you value your neck.” 

“Turedas? What’s all this commotion about?” calls a silvery voice from upstairs. A dunmer descends the spiral staircase, hiking up his robe so he doesn’t trip. He spies Ku-vastei with her conjured weapon pressed against his bodyguard’s gorget and his face lights up. “Ah, Turedas, settle down. This is the guest I told you to expect.”

The cyrod carefully sheathes his weapon, and Ku follows suit, the spear dissipating into tiny flecks of yellow floating to the ceiling and beyond. “I did not expect you meant to meet with a slave, Councilor,” says Turedas, his eyes still carefully trained on Ku.

“She is no slave of mine or anyone else,” replies Master Aryon, patting the warrior on the back. Ku-vastei notices he lacks the coarse Vvardenfell accent. “She is like Smokeskin-killer, a free argonian. We do not keep slaves in Tel Vos.” He smiles at Ku-vastei. “My apologies for the confusion. My man here once worked at the slave market in Sadrith Mora. Despite his Cyrodiilic origins, his heart was hardened to the abuses there.”

Ku-vastei grunts and goes back to wringing out her robes. “No, no,” interjects Aryon, taking a careless step closer. “Here. Allow me. You’ll feel warmer for a moment.”

Ku narrows her eyes but allows him. With a wave of his hand, vaporous orange light encircles her, pulling the moisture from her clothing and suffusing her body with a pleasant warmth. Her tail pulls itself taut with a cozy shiver. “Thank you,” she offers in return.

“Think nothing of it, muthsera. Come upstairs with me, I was just about to sit down for dinner.” He waves her towards the stairs with a practiced bow and flourish of his hands. “Turedas, if you would, please mop up the entryway.”

Turedas groans but nods in deference to his master. Ku follows Aryon up the fungal stairs, her tail “accidentally” slapping Turedas on her way past. As they climb, she begs the question, “See, you know what stairs are. No levitation necessary to go from one floor to the other. Then why do you require it to access this tower at all?”

“It is a longstanding tradition of the Telvanni,” answers Master Aryon. “We are a House steeped in wizardry, of course. So to reach our finest, you must prove yourself capable of such an essential spell, or at least resourceful enough to buy or brew a potion. This way it is impossible for lesser men to waste our often valuable time.” He pauses, then adds, “...Or so the tradition goes.”

“So you hesitate before tradition?” Ku observes.

“In its most outdated forms, yes.”

“Yet you keep the common folk of Vos a mile away from you. Very faithful adherence.”

The magister turns to look at Ku-vastei for a moment, then smiles. “...Some traditions die harder than others. Some must be followed so that others may be changed. It is a sacrifice. You are very observant, Ku-vastei, and that shall do you well in House Telvanni.”

They arrive at the second floor of the fungiform tower, where a table ladened with food awaits. “Be my honored guest, muthsera, and have a seat,” Master Aryon proclaims, throwing his arms wide with entreaty.

As Ku-vastei sets aside her pack and cautiously tucks her tail to sit at the table, she admires with salivating tongue the grand feast laid out before her: gleaming slaughterfish sashimi with an inky dipping sauce; an entire leg of mudcrab, plump and stuffed with golden meat; perfectly molded saltrice balls, neatly tucked into hackle-lo leaves; a bowl of bright blue roasted dovah-flies; and a large cup of mulled shein, steaming with an intoxicating aroma. She lifts it to her nose with both hands, inhaling deeply. The weather must have clogged her sinuses, because the blast of spices clears them right back out, like a fire removing a colony of its congestive kwama.

“Feel free to help yourself,” Aryon says, taking his own seat and separating his corkbulb chopsticks. “I prepared enough for the both of us.”

Ku takes a mighty swig of the shein before setting it back down. She forgoes her own pair of chopsticks and begins popping dovah-flies into her mouth with gusto, each one carefully pinched between her claws. Aryon watches attentively as he slowly dips a piece of sashimi into the black sauce.

“You knew -” Ku says between bite-swallows, “- that I would be coming.”

Aryon ignores this observation, instead making one of his own. “You approach this meal with proud carelessness. Who is to say I haven’t poisoned the dovah-flies?”

Ku laughs, picking up the massive crab leg. “A man of your status should know we argonians are immune to the poisons of men and mer.”

“Yes,” Aryon replies with a chuckle of his own. “Of men and mer, yes. But I know of at least three brewed in the dark depths of your homeland that are immune to your immunity.”

The leg cracks open violently, mudcrab meat scattering across the table. 

“But you needn’t worry,” entreats Aryon. He moves his chopsticks in a single calculated motion to pick up a dovah-fly and pops it into his mouth, savoring the crunch before continuing. “Such poisons have no antidotes. We are here as allies, Ku-vastei. We serve the same purpose. In serving me, you serve yourself.” He pauses to fish a piece of misplaced crab meat out of the murky depths of the sauce. “My Mouth told me you were coming.” He taps on a lavender-stoned ring on his finger as he chews.

“...Telepathic ring?” Ku asks, her pupils dilating slightly as she examines it. She gently takes a saltrice ball and nibbles on it, a bit more cautiously now, despite Aryon’s assurances.

“Close,” Aryon says after swallowing. “Teleportation. I prefer to meet face to face. I had Galos take the long way back to Sadrith Mora.” He rolls the ring under his fingers across the table towards Ku-vastei. “This is yours now, as I’m making you my new Mouth.”

“I’m not standing around in Sadrith Mora all day.” Ku’s hunger gets the best of her, and she finishes off the ball quickly. But the words have an effect - she takes her own pair of chopsticks and awkwardly fiddles with them to pick up a piece of sashimi. She does not touch the ring just yet.

Aryon laughs. “No, no, I won’t expect that of you. Galos will still take care of the minor clerical duties of the position.” He watches Ku’s attempts with a frown. “Look. See how I hold them? Like this,” he says, rotating his hand towards Ku-vastei. He deftly picks up a dovah-fly and pops it into his mouth.

Ku adjusts her grip and tries to pick up a dovah-fly herself. She manages to lift it a few inches from the bowl before twisting it out of the sticks, sending it rolling off the table. “Xuth,” she exclaims under her breath.

“Much better. You’re a quick learner.” He sets down his chopsticks and leans back in his chair. “I suppose they didn’t teach you proper etiquette at the Savethi Plantation, did they?”

Ku-vastei’s nostrils flare slightly. “You’re very well researched,” she remarks, biding her temper.

“Yes,” Master Aryon says. “I’m well aware of your past prior to arriving on Vvardenfell. Your role in the Arnesian War is particularly impressive. You’re quite the impactful character, Ku-vastei.”

“What’s your point?” Ku lays down her own chopsticks.

“You know, unlike most of my fellows in the House, I’m quite sympathetic to your plight, and that of your people.”

Ku presses a palm firmly on the surface of the table. “You know nothing of ‘our plight,’ n’wah. You live just the same privileged life as the rest of you house-folk.”

Aryon clears his throat and leans in. “I may not have ever been a slave, Ku-vastei, but I am fond of progress. The business of slavery is an ancient tradition, and ancient traditions must be abolished for a new society to blossom. Are you familiar with the teachings of Vivec?”

“No,” Ku-vastei lies. She’s read some of his sermons, but admitting familiarity feels treacherous.

“Ah, nevermind then. But as I said, in order for our society to flourish, it must be destroyed and made anew. This goes especially for our Great House Telvanni. You will find me just as progressive as the staunchest abolitionist.”

He lifts his cup of shein to his nose, inhaling the aroma of the spices. “I’m aware how your name translates from Jel to Aldmeris. ‘Catalyst for necessary change.’ It served you well in rebellion, and I think it can serve us well here. Working with me, you can once again be that catalyst, and forever change the face of Great House Telvanni.” With his offer pitched, he leans back in his chair and takes a sip of the wine.

Ku-vastei mulls it over for a bit. In order to advance within the house, it seems she has little choice. And perhaps he truly will end up a valuable ally. She picks up the ring and inspects it briefly before sliding it onto her middle finger. The magical ring glows in reaction to its new wearer, expanding and tightening to fit comfortably. “One condition,” she says. “Build some damn stairs to this place.”

“Well,” Aryon interjects, “with the ring, you won’t need-”

“I don’t care. Build some stairs.”

Aryon narrows his eyes briefly but smiles. He extends his hand over the feast. “Deal.”

Ku takes his soft hand and shakes it firmly, saying nothing. 

-

After feasting further and conversing about House politics and magical theory, Ku-vastei makes ready to leave. On her way out she meets Turedas again. 

“Good evening, sera,” he says, hissing the honorific.

“I’m Master Aryon’s Mouth now, n’wah.”

The color falls from the cyrod’s face. “Yes, serjo. Of course.”

Ku-vastei turns swiftly towards the door, slapping Turedas with her tail again as she does, before quickly marching out into the clear night.

#title sucks but w/e #tes #tesblr #morrowind #vvardenfell #telvanni #master aryon #oc: ku-vastei #tel vos

[ohwereusingourmadeupnames]

A Truth In Your Eyes (saying you’ll never leave me)

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker) Rating: Not Rated (it’s just fucking fluff, y’all!) Notes: There were a few people that were pretty stoked about my first attempt in this universe, so I decided to put out another part. If you haven’t read You Say It Best, you should probably give that one a shot first!  Word Count: 4.4k Warnings: this is the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. Tony does describe a bit of anxiety, though - tread carefully if that’s something that triggers you!  Summary: 

After Peter is careless with his words, Tony is left feeling a little anxious about the stability of things between them. The philharmonic concert he planned to attend doesn't really help - but Peter is there to pick up some of the pieces.

Or - the one where Peter does a little damage control.

Read it on AO3 here

“I sometimes wish you could just hear like everyone else. It’d make things so much easier.”

Despite not being able to actually hear the words, each one rattled inside his head like active bombs just seconds away from going off.

They were dangerous – the type of thing that haunted Tony his entire life; from the halls of school where he struggled daily, to the comfort of his own home growing up. Everyone wished to change him, whether for their own convenience or the ease of being around him – people were always attempting.

Yet, when he met Peter Parker, Tony finally felt like he met someone who could understand him, regardless of the barrier that existed between them. For the first time in his life, Tony wanted to believe that hearing and non-hearing didn’t matter – there was a place where they both could exist in the same realm.

Then, those dreaded words slipped out of Peter’s lips so carelessly – the man not even cognizant of what kind of impact they were going to have.

They were so, so, so careless.

And, as happy as Tony was that Peter came to his senses, his heart still hurt. There wasn’t any way around that feeling – not when his idealistic thought about their relationship was so easily obliterated.

To be completely fair, Peter wasn’t even aware of Tony’s anxiety. There’d been many conversations about Tony and his experience with learning to speak and finding a way to bridge whatever gap existed between himself and another person – Peter seemed interested in all the parts and pieces, even.

After so much discussion and dissection of his experiences, Tony figured the apprehension could remain unspoken, yet understood. He so desperately wanted Peter to understand him – so, some of the hurt stemmed from that glaringly obvious barrier that still existed, no matter how much he wished it otherwise.

Over the last few weeks since Peter came back, Tony spent a lot of time thinking about their time together – the interactions that he treasured so much.

He fondly remembered their first conversation about his deafness – the adorable worry on Peter’s face when he stuttered out the question.

“So, have you always been deaf?”

Tony grinned at him then, his cheeks already warm from the intensity of the smile beaming from his face. The forwardness of Peter’s form of conversation always made him feel a little giddy – while most people hopped around him and tried to navigate murky waters with finesse, Peter barreled on, his idea of asking for forgiveness over permission totally charming.

“Yeah, I have,” Tony replied, his fingers moving through the signs before his brain remembered to add in the spoken word, too. At that time, they hadn’t been together all that long, so the fluent ASL still brought a ‘deer in the headlights’ look to Peter’s adorably rosy cheeks. It took a lot more thinking than Tony usually liked, but the man across from him seemed worth it.

“Both of my parents are hearing – they weren’t even aware I couldn’t hear until I was 3. I hadn’t started talking and did all my communication through gestures. I learned to sign first, then when my dad couldn’t pick it up, I started speech therapy.” He waited a beat, his heart pounding a little bit in anticipation for the words yet to come.

“Speaking makes people more comfortable. Recognizing that we at least have that in common allows me to have a much more genuine conversation than if I just read lips and typed on my phone.”

Peter looked at him with such awe in the minutes to follow his little tangent – his brown eyes were wide and complexly interested; there were probably a million thoughts running through his mind at the time. They were quiet while Peter looked at him and absorbed all of the things Tony said and managed to get out without really saying, too.

Reaching a hand across the table, Peter slipped their fingers together – the touch both soothing and reassuring. After the short time they’d been together at that point, Tony came to rely on the physical communication between them just as much as any other. He let himself relax a little, the usual anxiety leaving him with each dragged out breath.

“I want to make conversing with you as easy as possible, baby. Will you teach me ASL? Enough for us to talk to each other, at least? I’m a pretty quick learner.” Peter looked at him so earnestly – the words and gesture both so fucking genuine.

Tony delightfully recalled the way warmth spread from the center of his chest to every inch of his being, his fingers and toes on fire from those beautiful words – even now, after so much time and the little bit of hurt. Peter was careless, that much was certain; but he wasn’t heartless – his attempt to bridge the gap between them proved to be genuine time and time again.

Sucking in a deep breath, Tony forced himself away from his reminiscent thoughts – he’d been sitting in his seat in the audience waiting for the concert to start for a while now; long enough for his thoughts to run wild and so far away from him. If he didn’t’ force himself back to the present, he could easily miss out on Peter’s entire performance.

While stuck in his thoughts, Tony missed the room filling up – most of the seats that were once empty around him were entirely full, even the two down from his own. Tony took a second to reprimand himself for the negligence – one of his keys to success stemmed from the fact that he paid attention to everything… at all times.

Except lately – over the past few weeks, Tony found himself struggling a little harder than usual to stay present; especially with people outside of his little bubble. Usually, public gatherings weren’t too much of a hardship, but tonight – tonight, Tony was struggling.

Luckily, the lights were lowering as Tony came back to himself – the many people in the audience settling down with the reduced lighting. Most concert goers understood crowd etiquette – the when, where, and how things were conducted played a part in the whole experience.

Sitting up a little straighter in his chair, Tony let his eyes roam across the stage until he found Peter amongst the crowd of shiny instruments and stuffy individuals wrapped up in starchy, unmoving tuxedos. Though he too was stuck in such an outfit, Peter stood out – his wavy hair glistened under the lighting – his confidence radiating off of him in waves that only Tony could see.

The sight brought a smile to his face; even though he wouldn’t be able to hear a single thing his boyfriend played, Tony could clearly see how talented he was – Peter’s skill existed in every part of him, not just the sound he happened to produce.

After a short introduction from the conductor, the performance was on its way. They opened with a steady piece, the vibrations starting out minimal, then gaining pace until the ultimate crescendo peaked to end it all. The last few notes hung in the room, each person within Tony’s view completely captivated already.

For most of the performance, Tony tried his best to pick out Peter’s parts – with the combined visual cues and the learned feeling, he felt successful about half of the time. By the last few songs, Tony’s brain felt fatigued – Peter’s winks and affectionate looks between pieces the only thing really keeping him in it at all.

The last piece ended with a loud (even to Tony) sea of applause that filled up the entire room. To blend in with the crowd, Tony stood up with the rest of his row, his hands coming together to mimic the claps around him. He copied the behavior until it was clear for him to vacate the row.

His feet couldn’t carry him backstage fast enough.

Tony flashed the security guard his badge (the man fondly known as Little Ed shot him a soft smile as he did). Throughout his time with Peter, Tony learned the layout of their performance space and easily found him, his boyfriend delightfully flushed from the still flowing adrenaline of a job well done.

Brown eyes caught him before Tony could make it over to Peter physically – Peter’s stare stopping him in his tracks for a moment. The look never failed to knock him back, Tony completely smitten with the dark pupiled gaze, Peter’s nonverbal communication increasing tenfold since the first time they locked eyes like this. Without saying anything, Tony knew Peter was grateful for his presence, that seeing him right after such a big success made him just as happy as the performance itself.

Grinning, Tony narrowed the space between them, his arms wrapping around Peter’s waist the second they were within touching distance. He nuzzled his nose into Peter’s neck, the silent ‘hello’ exactly what he needed after so much artificial noise buzzing around in his head. After placing a small kiss to salty skin, Tony pulled away, a soft smile on his face.

“You were amazing,” Tony signed, his voice inaccessible to him after so much earlier strain. He trusted Peter’s ASL skill, anyway – they’d been working hard over the last few weeks to make the man completely conversational.

Peter didn’t disappoint, his handsome face breaking into a happy grin, the edges of his mouth actually reaching his eyes. He let a hand brush against Tony’s suit jacket clad shoulder, the touch brief, yet reassuring.

“Thank you,” Peter replied, his fingers touching his chin in the recognizable sign. “It’s so nice to have you in the crowd. It’s like everyone else fades away and it’s just you and me. I really like that.”

Tony smiled shyly, his eyes watching Peter’s lips form those last words with interest. He quickly recalled the last time he saw them, their skin much more flush and sticky then – both totally sated in the afterglow. The blush on his cheeks deepened, his smile turning into a smirk.

“I really like you.” Tony palmed Peter’s cheek as he spoke, his voice suddenly finding its way out of his throat.

Peter wrapped him up in a sudden hug, his arms squashing Tony to his chest. Since their little reunion a few weeks ago, Peter seemed hell bent on making up for it – whether it was through more diligent signing or an abundance of physical contact, Peter doubled his efforts – the try in his behavior apparent.

Letting a sigh slip through his lips, Tony felt himself relax into the contact. He appreciated the effort – there really wasn’t anything like the feeling of being in Peter’s arms. Yet, he wondered if it was just an attempt to win Tony back over, or if it was truly how things were going to go from now on.

He realized after Peter’s walk out, just how tangible being left behind actually was. It wasn’t as if he didn’t think about it before – every time they struggled to be on the same page, Tony found himself thinking how much easier it would be for Peter to be with someone else – someone that didn’t struggle to reciprocate… someone that, well – could hear.

When things were good between them, it was easy to brush off.

Ever since their falling out, though, Tony found it harder to just push to the side. If a little bit of annoyance could drag such careless words from Peter’s mouth, what would the long haul look like for them? Was it even worth it for Peter? Would there ever truly be a future for Tony’s deafness and Peter’s hearing to cohabitate successfully? So much fear sat in the pit of his stomach, so many unknowns and questions unanswered – Tony was already so damn overcome by love and near acceptance, losing Peter wasn’t something he ever wanted to do.

Fear and apprehension weren’t things Tony wanted to carry around with him, especially where Peter was concerned. Despite that want, Tony couldn’t stop himself from fretting or feeling anxious. Times like that very moment, when Peter wrapped him up in strong arms, they kept things at bay – but, only just barely.

Pulling away from Peter’s hug, Tony gave his boyfriend a little space – his sheet music and taken apart saxophone still sat on the table next to them, his presence obviously slowing down the cleaning up process. “Let’s get you cleaned up. The quicker we get to that after party, the quicker we’ll be able to leave.”

Peter shot him a smirk, then went about deconstructing his mouthpiece, the reed lovingly placed in its protector, then slotted into its spot in the case. Everything Peter did was precise, the movement of his hands hypnotic – Tony finding himself completely glued to them more often times than not.

Blinking the unnecessary distraction away, he turned his back to his boyfriend, cutting off any further means of communication for the time being.

Tony put Peter’s sheet music away, his eidetic memory allowing him to remember the order it usually existed in. With that done, Tony slipped it into Peter’s bag, grabbed the saxophone case from Peter’s hand, and offered up his arm for Peter to take. The weight in the crook of his elbow was comforting, the affection something Tony knew he’d need to get through the next step of their forced social adventure.

They took the extra time needed to get Peter’s instrument into the car, the few stolen minutes together some of the last they would get until obligations were fulfilled and the right people were spoken to. As much as he wanted to be by Peter’s side throughout the entire ordeal, Tony couldn’t keep up with everything – too many people to tune into and too much noise to navigate made it incredibly difficult to be anything but a bother.

Which is how Tony found himself in the corner, desperately attempting to escape conversation with the masses. He followed Peter around for a while, catching a few names here and there, exchanging the necessary hellos – then bowed out as quickly as he could. If he weren’t already in a state of anxiety, he probably would have tried to hold on a little tighter to the forced interactions. But, he couldn’t do it – not when his head was buzzing and every second he attempted to lip read felt like trudging through sludge – every exchange between himself and another person the heaviest burden.

He grabbed a flute of champagne and let himself relax against the wall, hazel eyes flitting between all of the different people occupying the space. The musicians were easy to pick out, they were still sporting the matching penguin suits. Stiff members of the upper echelon of New York society also stuck out like a sore thumb – there were only a select few that would jazz themselves up to the nines to attend a concerto. The random few (himself included) flitted in and out of recognition. Some were there with other musicians, and some seemed happy just to be in attendance, regardless of their standing.

As the minutes passed, Tony felt his head starting to buzz more intensely than before. After such a long day, he couldn’t decide if it was because the long use of his hearing aids, or the overwhelming nature of being in a crowd for an extended duration of time. Unlike Peter, Tony didn’t do much of his life surrounded by lots of people. The small five person dinners they sometimes hosted were a bit much – a huge room of people, all of which were talking non-stop, bordered on impossible.

Depositing his glass on the nearest flat surface, Tony reached up to fiddle with his hearing aids. He knew, the second he switched them off, the rest of the world would be blissfully silent – and yet, at the same time, his ability to communicate with it would be severely diminished. Despite the fact that he’d been mainstream his entire life, reading lips and keeping up with multiple people talking at the same time was not easy; and never would be.

Knowing what he knew, nimble fingers still moved to shut off the hearing devices, their assistance no longer anything but taxing and somewhat debilitating.

Peter must’ve seen him struggling – in the next second, Tony had a hand on his elbow, the comforting squeeze of familiar fingers grounding him, despite the small scare the touch provided. There was concern written all over his face, the small little crease between his brows both cute and reassuring. His hand moved to find Tony’s cheek, soft skin against soft skin.

“Are you okay? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn those off in public before,” Peter signed, his fingers pointing at the hearing aids in his ears. “This crowd must be a lot.”

Tony allowed himself to lean into Peter’s touch, the overwhelming feeling he tried to bottle up throughout the night finally coming to the surface under the affectionate care. Ducking his head, Tony rested his forehead against Peter – breaths intermingling. He sucked in a big lungful of oxygen, the smell of Peter’s cologne a familiar entity that helped to stop him from jumping over the preverbal cliff he felt perched over throughout the evening.

“I’m struggling, Pete – I’m not going to lie. This whole night has been a lot. All the sound, all the people. I just can’t keep up.” He signed each of the words, the idea of speaking without the help of his hearing aids one he didn’t even want to process. Tony was thankful Peter was paying close attention to him – the crowd not giving him any trouble at all.

The hand on his cheek shifted again, Peter’s long fingers sinking into the grown out hair at the back of his neck. Tony felt his eyes close, the world around them melted away with every pass of blunt fingernails against the surface of his scalp. With his eyes closed, it truly felt like it was only him and Peter – the bubble of silence so fucking nice after all the stress.

Peter continued to pet him until Tony opened his eyes again. The soft smile he found on Peter’s face made his heart race, his own grin settling over his lips for what felt like the first time all day. A swift tug to his hair signaled Peter’s retreat, his boyfriend using his hands to sign at him, instead.

“I think I’ve been here long enough. What do you think about heading home and ordering some take out? I could go for some pho.” Peter exaggerated the last sign, his lips making a round ‘O’ that he dragged out.

And despite being so entirely wrung out, Tony couldn’t stop the laugh that wormed its way out – Peter knew how to make him feel better, without really even trying. His ability to know what Tony needed just by simply looking at him reminded Tony of the reason he felt the need to trust Peter in the first place. He didn’t always class it up the best, but he delivered seamlessly, regardless.

Nodding, Tony stepped into Peter’s space, wrapping his arms around slim shoulders to bring him in close. He held him tightly for a moment, just long enough to absorb Peter’s heat, then let him go. “That sounds good – thank you.”

It took them a few minutes to actually make their excuses and get out of the concert hall, but they were soon on their way – Tony tucked into Peter’s side as they made quick work of the space between the building and the parking lot. Still feeling a bit off balance, Tony clung to Peter with every step; vulnerability oozed from him and for the moment, he didn’t really give a shit.

They made it back to Peter’s place twenty minutes later – both of them slipping out of their suits and into soft matching flannel pajama pants they cheesily wore during the holiday’s a couple months before. It felt good to be wrapped up in the small comforts, the companionship between himself and Peter tangible in all sorts of ways.

There wasn’t any talking while they got settled. Peter ordered their food without having to ask Tony what he wanted. While Peter took care of their eats, Tony set up the latest episode of Peaky Blinders, the closed captions on and ready to go.

The simplicity of one of their typical routines let all the surrounding anxiety melt away from Tony – the only thing left the ease of the environment he inhabited with his favorite person.

Peter made his presence in the living room known with a swift touch to Tony’s shoulder, his fingers settling on the back of his neck. Turning, Tony shot him a soft smile, his hand gracing Peter’s hip before shifting to sign.

“You really were great tonight, Pete. I love watching you play.” He finished the last sign with a soft touch to Peter’s cheek. “I sometimes wish I could hear like everyone else, too.”

Moving quickly, Peter gripped Tony’s cheeks, the move drawing Tony’s attention immediately.

“I should have never said that. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. Your eyes never left me – each song, it was like I was playing to you and you alone. It’s the most intimate playing experience I’ve ever had, Tony. You don’t need to hear me – you get me. That’s more than enough.”

Not really knowing how much he needed to be told that, Tony felt chest getting a little tighter. It didn’t occur to him that his anxiety that evening circled around the feeling of not knowing how secure things with Peter really were. He forgave him his words weeks ago – they were careless and they both understood that. Maybe he didn’t let go of the feeling those words created within him as easily, though; the whispers of them still haunting him.  

Sighing, Tony leaned forward and pressed their lips together. “I know. I really do. I just – I’m feeling anxious. I was so sure that you just sort of understood me. And you do. I know that, too. It just – broke me a little. You saying what you did. Are you going to be able to handle this,” Tony signed, pausing to gesture between them, “years down the road? I’m always going to be deaf. I’m always going to have nights like tonight. I love you, Pete. I don’t want to lose you.”

The seconds between the words sitting in the space between them and Peter’s response felt like years – Tony’s heart thudded against his chest, each beat like lead running through his veins. It wasn’t an ultimatum, per say – he wasn’t laying down a this or that, but the answer was important all the same. He already went down the rabbit hole of falling in love and depending on the man in front of him. In all of his life, Tony didn’t want anything else in this world more than a future with Peter.

There was so much potential – their relationship consisted of so many components; friendship, love, intimacy – all of the important variables for long lasting companionship and happiness.

At the same time, there were room for complications, too. Especially if there wasn’t a certain kind of commitment that came with living with a person with a disability. Accommodations would always need to be made, whether it be in their method of communication or the environment of whatever home they lived in.

They could do it – he knew they could. And even better yet, he wanted to; more than anything, he wanted to make a real go at things with Peter, even more so than they already were.

Peter returned the kiss after many seconds of silent contemplation. He let the lip to lip contact linger, Tony soaking up the touch, letting the flare of want and contentment surge through him. Brown eyes stayed on Tony as Peter created space, his hands moving to sign.

“It’s a lot – the future. What’s going to happen, where I might be. The only thing I know for sure is that I want you there with me. I was really thoughtless, wasn’t I? Saying what I said.” Peter stopped then, his right hand grabbing Tony’s while the other rubbed circles across his own chest – the sign for sorry making Tony smile lightly. He didn’t need to nod his head for Peter to know the answer to his question – the simple fact that they were having this conversation at all spoke volumes.

After a quick squeeze, Peter dropped Tony’s hand, his fingers moving to sign again. “I’m not going to say that the challenges were going to face aren’t scary – because they are. I’ll probably get it wrong most of the time, but I’m willing to try. I want to, even. This, what we have, it’s it for me.”

Not really sure where they came from, Tony was surprised to feel tears dripping down his cheeks. He couldn’t remember welling up or feeling the incessant need to let stuff out that usually prefaced the times he cried. Yet, there they were, flowing freely down to his chin – the path of which Peter quickly followed with his thumb.

It felt like a catharsis – the sort of cleansing of anger and anxiety that Tony wasn’t aware he needed until halfway in it. Instead of freaking like he did so many times before when emotions became too big, Tony let them go, the soft touch of Peter’s hand on his skin helping to relax him even further. For once, it felt good to let go – to rid his system of the terrible shit he kept inside because there wasn’t anywhere else for it to be.

Except – not anymore. As evidenced by this very moment, Peter could take on some of his burden, he could hold Tony up when everything might’ve gone to shit before.

“I want that, too,” Tony finally managed to reply. He felt completely overcome and suddenly drained of all energy. All of the emotions from what felt like his entire life were exorcised – the wash of tears the physical manifestation of it. Now, all Tony wanted to do was crawl into Peter’s arms and simply exist – no barriers or hard feelings between them.

Apart from detangling to bring the food into the apartment, Tony spent the rest of the night in that exact way – wrapped up in Peter’s embrace without a care in the world.

#starker #a truth in your eyes (saying you'll never leave me) #bobbie writes #peter parker/tony stark #fluffy fluff that fluffs #fluff

[i-rely-on-you]

This Is A Trap I Would Gladly Walk Into With You

Parent trap promt from @bearly-believeable I hope you’ll like what I did with it 😊 

‘This was ridiculous’ is what was going through Farah’s mind at the moment. Utterly ridiculous.  

It all had started that morning on the training grounds. The now second years of fairies had their first outdoor training lesson. The objective had been easy. Use one’s powers to their advantage and gain the upper hand in a controlled fight of elements. And so far it had been going good. They had been at it for almost two hours now and the young trainees were getting more sure of their powers and bolder with their moves.  

At some point Saul had come over to stand next to the headmistress to check in on their progress. Nodding approvingly he chanced a glance to his side to gauge her reaction at what her students were capable of. The fairy was sporting a timid smile, a look that he could decipher so clearly as pride, it made his face almost split with his own smile at seeing her so openly delighted by her students. At how they were learning and rolling with the punches of each other’s attacks and how they were adapting to all of it.  

That was until everything that could go wrong in such a training situation, decided to go wrong.

Farah had been chatting with Saul, only taking her eyes off of her students on the mat for one split second to give him a reprimanding look for making slight fun of her otherwise strict demeanour today when something during the fight before them got out of hand.  

Saul who was in the process of going back over to his own students, had his back to the mat and was oblivious to the spell behind him going awry. Giving him her scolding look and getting a smirk in return she heard a panicked intake of air and glanced over his shoulder to the fight on the training platform again only to see a student struggle to reign in their powers and slipping with the effort to press down on it to extinguish the build-up.  

It all happened in the blink of an eye and later nobody could explain how she had actually managed to keep everyone alive through this ordeal.  

The other student had seen what her partner was struggling with and had tried a counter attack to catch the burst of magic, but this only resulted in the explosion doubling in size. Both blasts had careened into each other and the force of the combined attack had the air sizzling with energy.  

Farah had a split second to decide what to do to help her students and channeled her powers to shield both the teenagers from the detonation. This resulted in a chain reaction of sorts seeing as all the amassing energy needed to go somewhere, needed an outlet. That outlet seemed to be a straight path towards where the headmistress and the headmaster were standing.  

The mind fairies eyes had widened at realising this and had thrown out a hand over her colleagues shoulder to shield him from catching the blast to the back. Sadly her shield didn’t actually act as a buffer but more of a movable object in the energy blasts path.  

The impact on his shielded back had him propelled forward and into the headmistress. His quick reflexes had Saul grasp onto her tightly the second the shock wave hit his back. His one arm winding around her back and his other hand grasping the back of her head in support. Which had been a very clever and tactic move on his part seeing as she would’ve probably concussed herself with the impact on the massive stone wall they had careened into, if not worse.  

Upon connecting with the bricks the pair slid down the wall landing in a tangled heap on the ground.  

Breathing deeply and trying to force shuddering heaving lungfuls of air into their bodies the pair remained laying there for just a second before the headmaster rightened himself a little to take his other hand to Farah’s head as well, grasping onto it with both his hands, effectively cradling her face in the process trying to make her look at him.  

His face was swimming over hers and she could barely make out his features, his breathing coming back to her more clearly with each moment passing. Pressing her eyes shut and holding a hand to her temple the fairy breathed out a pained groan before taking hold of his chest strap blindly. Without opening her eyes she mumbled a quiet, “Are you hurt?” before gliding her fingers over his shoulder to the back of his head and into his hair to reassure herself that there was no blood.  

Still laying partially on top of her the specialist shook his head, making her feel the movement through her hand still fisting his hair at the back of his head. It was at this moment Saul noticed the students gathering around them. The air laden with fear for their teachers and blind panic. Not casting them a look, his eyes still fixed on the woman underneath him he wiped his thumbs over her temples soothingly and asked very lowly for only her to hear, “Farah can you look at me?”

Nodding the mind fairy winced as the movement hurt her head but squinted up at him once more, her hazel orbs settling on his worried murky grey ones. His eyes looked almost green in these shadows it made her breathe in deeply at the sight of it. The colour was so vivid and ever changing depending on the light making her feel at home and safe instantly.  

Suddenly the headmistress startled a little her eyes shooting open wider, her head lifting up from the cradle of her specialists hands looking around wildly. Until her gaze settled on the two fairies that had caused the explosion. Her eyes were warm and relieved upon laying eyes on their huddled up but unharmed forms. They were leaning on each other for support she noticed but otherwise didn’t seem to be injured. Giving them a reassuring smile she let her head drop back down into the soft hands of her protector before addressing them with a voice soft as velvet.  

“Are you two alright? Did the blast get either of you?” Shaking their heads quickly the boy started to stammer out apologies, “I am so sorry Miss. I didn’t mean to-“, but Farah cut him off with a gentle shushing noise before saying, “It wasn’t your fault Oliver. I’m fine. That was an impressive atmospheric blast, dear. You did very well.” Blushing at her kind words but still unconvinced about her wellbeing he tried anew. “But Miss Dowling-“, this time it was Saul who cut him off. “It’s fine Oliver. It happens.” Taking his eyes off the woman in his arms for the first time since they had landed in this heap of limbs he fixed the boy with a strong look daring him to disagree with him. It made the boy swallow thickly, almost shrinking in on himself. The headmaster went on undeterred by this saying, “Tamara would you be so kind as to accompany your training partner to his suite. I’m sure he is exhausted after such an impressive display of air magic.” Giving the boy a wink to soften the blow he barked out, “Class dismissed!”

The students started to dissipate slowly after this, still worried for their headmistress. But they obeyed, respectfully heeding their headmasters orders.  

After the last of the students had left he looked down at the fairy in his arms again. Gathering his courage he asked the question he had been burning to ask but hadn’t in fear of overstepping in front of their students. “Are you sure you’re alright, Farah? That was quite the blow to the head.” Looking down at her imploringly he fixed her with a worried look before guiding her head to the side gently to catch a glimpse at the back of her head but his hands came back clear of blood and he breathed a little deeper then.  

Opening her eyes once more she nodded at him, taking in his worried glance and furrowed brows. “I’m fine Saul, your hand swallowed up most of the impact I think. Thank you for that.” Giving him a small smile she settled her hand that had been stroking his hair, on his shoulder. “Help me up?” Her request came so quick and without a hint of pain in her voice he smiled in response before loosening his hand on her head and pushing himself up from the ground. Once kneeling beside her he took both her hands in one of his and guided her head upright with a strong grip on the back of her neck. It took her a moment to rid herself of the black dots still dancing around the edge of her vision but soon he had her upright and standing next to him more or less worse for wear.  

Looking down at the hand holding hers she noticed his bleeding knuckles for the first time and gasped in surprise. Taking his hand in both of hers now she inspected the scratches to the back of his hand with disdain. Looking up at him concerned she found him smiling at her. “And what in the realms could you be smiling about right now?” Her words were accompanied by a small smile of her own clearly not having figured out where his humorous grin could be coming from in this moment.  

Blowing out a short laugh he took her by the hand and led her in the direction of the greenhouse. “You just got slammed into a brick wall by a blast consisting of two kinds of fairy magic and your first concern was the wellbeing of your students and your second being my bashed up hand.” He laughed out loud at his own words grinning down at her with mirth in his gaze. “I just find you highly amusing at times, woman. That’s all.”  

Giving him a slight nudge in the side with her elbow but never dislodging their hands she blew out an exasperated breath before saying, “Oh you are an insufferable man! Of course I worry!” Leading her further down the path he took her hand in his other hand and placed the now empty one on the small of her back to guide her along the narrow path leading up the the double doors of their best friends work place.  

Mimicking her words he repeated, “Of course I worry!”, and tried to make it sound as authentic as possible. This made her sputter indignantly and point another sharp poke at his ribs at his jest.  

“Oh shut up you stupid mule and let’s ask Ben for some salve for that hand of yours. I hope you are not getting any blood on my dress back there.” At that he gave her side a small pinch making her jump at the twinge and snicker at his antics.  

With that they disappeared into the greenhouse, all the while bickering and joking in a very carefree manner.  

Unbeknownst to them they had had an audience that had witnessed the whole conversation. Bloom and her friends had been standing behind some columns in the yard keeping an eye on them in case the teachers had misjudged the situation and would be in need of help after all.  

This had sparked a conversation between the young fairies about the long repressed feelings of their totally oblivious headmistress and headmaster.  

And soon followed an elaborate plan to make them see reason. A wicked plan at that. They had even enlisted the closest friend of the pair to participate and help with the ruse.

Which is how Farah and Saul found themselves locked into one of the upper floor classrooms of the building staring down at hundreds of lit candles and a divine smelling romantic dinner setting in the centre of the room.  

This had clearly been well thought out. The desks usually spaced around the room have been taken out leaving an open layout of the place. There were no chairs other than the two at the table with the delicious smelling dinner for two.  

Which brought her back to her earlier train of thought. ‘Ridiculous!’ This was an utterly ludicrous situation to find yourself in. Especially if you find yourself in such a situation with your best friend of over thirty years staring just as dumbfounded back at you.  

Banging on the closed door once more Farah yelled “Bloom! I know you are out there. You open this door right now young lady. This instant!” Hearing nothing but giggles from the other side had her step back in heated irritation. Crossing her arms over her chest she looked over at her headmaster in chief to gauge his reaction to all of this.  

Giving her a raised eyebrow the soldier stepped up to the door and spoke in a cold and threatening manner he only reserved for especially head-strong students such as Riven. “If you don’t let us out there will be a punishment waiting for you come morning. It’s your choice.” Appealing to the adolescents conscience in a slightly threatening manner seemed his only way out of this.  

Getting only a new fit of giggles from the other side of the massive wooden door in response had him puff out a breath in exasperation as well.

Coming up next to him Farah tried one last time. “I will use my magic on this door. And once we step out of this room there will be severe ramifications for your behaviour today.” Saul had an almost proud look on his face as if saying ‘That’s a good one.’ Giving him a smirk in return she put her ear to the door to listen to their reactions.  

It was Bens voice that had them take a step back in surprise.  

“I have enchanted the door myself. I know you have always been the best of us but even you can’t get past my locks Farah.” They could almost hear him smile wickedly through the oak of the door.  

Looking at each other with raised eyebrows the pair listened closer as their friend went on. “See it as a deserved night off you two. The table is set. I know what you like. I prepared the roast myself. Just enjoy the time to yourself for once in your life.” And with that there was shuffling behind the door.  

Suddenly the air was filled with soft romantic tunes. Turning around they set eyes on Sam standing by the far wall holding a small bluetooth speaker in his hands. Setting the device down and throwing them a quick wink he disappeared through the wall before Saul could do so much as take a step in his direction. That smart little weasel of a boy.  

Looking over at her specialist she waited for him to look at her before saying, “Well this is certainly new.”  

He gave a small laugh at that before taking in the scene before them once more.  

There were hundreds of candles littered on the floor, the book cases and even floating through the air. The room was cast in a warm light making the atmosphere soft an cozy. Comfortable even. The pathway through the candles was littered with rose petals. ‘They really went all out with this one’ the headmaster thought to himself.  

The table was set for two with elegant napkins and intricate table cloths. The dinnerware looked suspiciously like Bens good china he only reserved for special occasions.  

The soft voice of the woman beside him brought him out of his observations. “Well at least it’s Bens good china and the roast smells heavenly.”

Deciding submitting to their fate would be the most honourable thing to do in this situation Saul looked at Farah and held out his elbow for her to take.  

Looking down at his proffered arm the fairy giggled a little to herself before accepting and walking the path to their dinner table arm in arm with her partner.  

Going the extra mile the soldier pulled out the chair for the surprised fairy and waited for her to settle before rounding the table to sit down on the other side. “How gentlemanly of you Saul. Have you been holding out on me?” Taking her napkin off her plate and setting it in her lap she threw him a sidelong glance. The twinkle in her eyes had him bark out a short laugh at her rib. “Please. You know I’m always the perfect gentleman. Even when it comes to escorting beautiful women to their dormitories late at night when they are so plastered I had to carry them half the way because they were missing steps along the stairwell almost toppling over five times.” Giving her a smug smile at the indignant look on her face he folded his own napkin over his lap and started to lift the lid off the aforementioned roast in front of them.  

“That was one time! And it was all your fault too because you were under the assumption it was a civic duty to try out Bens fire whisky and topping my glass off three times!” If he didn’t know any better he would say she was almost stammering. And was that a blush creeping up on her neck?

“Might I remind you that it was me who fished you out of the river when you and Andreas decided a late night swim in the middle of November was in order after getting absolutely hammered at one of Luna’s pretentious balls?”

Laughing out loud at this the headmaster threw his head back cackling. The mirth still clear on his face he filled up her plate and handed it over to her before filling his own.

Digging into their food without permeable they both moaned out loud at the taste of their meal. It was true. Ben’s roast was one of the best they had ever tasted over the years and it never ceased to amaze them how good it was.  

The next words out of the mans mouth sitting opposite had her fork halt mid air on the way of spearing a potato. “You looked very beautiful that night.”  

The blatant compliment had her lower her cutlery and look across the table at him. Waiting for him to look up she gave him a faint smile.  

“You still remember how I looked that night?” Her smile turned coy at the intensity in his eyes. Bringing a piece of meat to his mouth he chewed and took his time swallowing before giving her an answer.  

“Your dress was dark blue, floor length. It was one of those rare moments you had your hair down, it was falling in soft curls around your shoulders. The necklace you were wearing couldn’t outshine your eyes. You were a vision. A sight to behold.” He said it so unashamedly and open it let her breath halt in her throat.  

“It was that night that I realised what word to describe you best with.” Putting his fork and knife down he regarded her with such a calm and loose look it had goosebumps rise on her exposed arms.  

Pulling her chin up a notch she looked at him with such a fond expression in her eyes it relaxed him even further.  

“What was it?”, whispered the mind fairy.  

It made him smile. Levelling her with a laden look he breathed out, “Ethereal.”

Her breath came out in shallow small bursts, her smile turning more loving, her eyes misting over she dropped her fork and reached across the table to grasp his hand.  

Her thumb was caressing his skin gently. The back of his hand had healed up quite nicely, Bens salve having done its job marvellously.  

Taking her hand in his he dropped a kiss on her knuckles softly, his mouth lingering a second too long for it to be strictly platonic before setting it back down on the table gently.  

Taking her hand back they shared a warm smile before resuming their dinner.  

After a while it was Farah who broke the companionable silence. “I didn’t think you would remember that.” The faint blush lingering on her cheeks as she continued to eat made him smile.  

That sentence actually made the specialist snort softly. “My mind might not be as good as it once was but that is something I will never forget. I never do.”, he mused lowly.  

Tilting her head to the side a little in question the headmistress gave him a curious look.  

Taking this moment to pour the wine that had been left opened to breathe he filled both of their glasses with a generous amount. Handing her one glass he looked at her bemusedly, “I remember everything when it comes to you.”

He couldn’t for the life of him have deciphered the look on her face in that moment. It was a combination of bashful and shy and her eyes shone so bright, an openness in them he had never seen before. There was a timid smile playing along her lips, which were already starting to turn red from the wine.  

Intertwining her fingers the fairy propped up her chin on the back of her hands and leaned her elbows on the table. Her eyes shone brightly while she was regarding him silently. After a few seconds of taking in his open and honest expression she said, “I am beginning to struggle to be angry at the children for this.” Smiling lovingly over at him she basked in the radiant grin he was throwing in her direction.  

Wiping his mouth with his napkin he placed the cloth on his emptied plate. Getting up from his seat Saul made to come around the table slowly, coming to a halt at her side. Holding out his hand in a silent request he looked at her with a calm look in his eyes. His relaxed posture giving nothing away.  

Looking up at him she took his hand on instinct, not even hesitating a second. He enclosed her hand in a gentle grip and pulled her to her feet. She threw her napkin on her vacated chair absentmindedly and followed his lead further into the rooms centre.  

Coming to a halt he took her into his arms, his touch on her waist soft but sure. His warm hands holding her steady as he began to lead her through the steps of a slow dance.  

Her hand not clasped in his own settled on his chest but soon migrated to the back of his neck where she stroked the soft hair there, making small swirls with the lazy movements of her nibble fingers.  

The dance was slow and their steps long ingrained into their souls. They followed each other effortlessly. It was magic. The way she clung to him as he was holding her close. The air between them a shared breath, never not in each other’s lungs. Always a part of them connected.  

If Farah had needed a word to describe it it would be blissful. That’s what she was feeling. Safe and protected in the circle of his arms. No other place had ever felt as much like home as this one.  

They began to sway instead of following any steps. They didn’t need to follow a dance. They had their own mapped out in their hearts already, only them knowing how to navigate it. Their bodies started to come together and Farah laid her head on Sauls shoulder. Her nose tickling the underside of his chin a little as they moved.  

His arms slid down her sides and encircled her waist holding her to him closely. The headmistress grasped onto his shoulder lightly and had her other hand on the back of his neck, her fingertips still touching his hair and her thumb tracing an invisible pattern into his skin. It made the man in her arms hum in satisfaction. The gentle ministrations relaxing him further. His body wrapped around hers like a heavy heated blanket. His smell all encompassing. A heady mixture of his aftershave and his natural scent. He always smelled of outdoors, of clean air and blue skies. Of forests and pinewood. She loved the way he smelled. Musky and familiar.  

Laying his head to the side of her head the specialist buried his nose in her hair, placing a soft kiss there. One of his hands ventured upwards to press into her back, her front coming flush against his chest. He loved the way she felt. Her soft curves betraying how fit she actually was. The woman was a work of art. Her soft peaks and valleys giving away to lean muscles and toned flesh. And her smell was something you would only read about in cheesy romance novels, not that he read those. But he had peeked over her shoulder many a time to catch a glimpse at what she was reading on their days off. She had always had a soft spot for romance.  

Her smell was intoxicating. A swirl of her perfume and her shampoo mixed with her own scent. It was hard to describe it but it always smelled like something familiar and warm. Just like her he mused.  

Her soft exhale brought him out of his stupor. Looking down at her he craned his neck a little to catch a glimpse at her face still resting on his chest. She had her eyes closed but her still moving fingers told him she was far from sleepy as she continued to stroke his neck.  

“Can we stay like this forever? You think anyone would notice?” Her quiet voice filtered to his ear like a gust of wind carried by a summers breeze.  

Smiling softly he tightened his arms around the fairy and whispered into her ear, “I would like that very much. We could just pretend we got locked in this room against our will and they refused to let us out again.”

As if on cue they startled a little when they heard the telltale sound of the lock turning. Looking over his shoulder Farah could see no feet behind the door telling her it had probably been a timed spell that had kept them locked up. Her eyes shone blueish silver for a moment, feeling the magic in the air dissipate as the spell on the lock slithered away. Returning to their normal colour she fixed her eyes on the man still holding her close. Their faces mere inches apart.  

Leaning her head forward slowly the fairy connected their foreheads in a soft touch before whispering, “Do you want to get out of here?” Her breath ghosting over his face tickling his nerves.  

Pulling his face away from her a little he let his eyes roam over her perfect features before shaking his head softly. Lowering his mouth towards hers slowly he whispered, “Not right now.” before kissing her lightly. Her lips were soft and the contact made him melt into her. Her hands had snaked around his neck, her fingers playing with the soft hairs at the side of his head. His own hands had found their way to her face holding it to his, his grip going slack in her hair and losing themselves in the soft curls.  

His touch had her moan in pleasure allowing him to sink deeper into the kiss. His tongue delved out to meet hers in a searing touch. The way they kissed was like the way they danced. Practiced and with ease falling into the moves despite never having indulged in this form of contact before. It was exhilarating. But also like coming home. Comfortable and familiar like they had done this for years.  

When they came to slow their kisses the fairy bit down gently on his bottom lip making him flex his hands in her hair at the sensation. The growl crawling up his throat had her head spin for a second.

Letting go of each other’s lips with a wet pop the pair looked at each other with hooded eyes. Their gaze full of love and barely contained lust for each other. She could feel it in the way he was holding her to him in this almost possessive manner. It made her smile softly, rubbing soothing circles into his scalp.  

Nudging her nose with his she gauged his reaction before asking innocently, “You want to get out of here now?” Her smile was anything but innocent in that moment it had his face turn almost lewd at her implication.  

Bending down to give her one last full and open-mouthed kiss he poured everything he thought of that glorious idea into the sensation making the woman in his arms almost dizzy with want.  

Pulling back once more he watched her licking the remnants of the sloppy kiss off of her lower lip before giving him a very heated grin.  

Dropping her arms from around his neck she slid one hand to grasp one of his and began to walk past him to the door. Pulling his hand close to her backside so that his knuckles were touching where she wanted to be touched she felt him let go of her hand and enclose the curve of her buttocks. The sensation let sparks of anticipation flutter up in her body.  

Never losing contact the man pressed close to her back and pushed open the door. His other hand finding one of hers he guided her out of the room and down the corridor in the direction of the headmasters suite.

They didn’t once let go of each other for the remainder of the night and well into the early hours of the next morning.  

Bloom and her friends would have to stifle their giggles in class the next day upon seeing all the love bites on their headmistress’ neck.  

It was safe to say the whole scheme had been a success.  

‘Well done children.’, thought Ben. ‘I have been trying for years!’

fin

Thank you so much for reading ♥️ please leave a comment/kudos on ao3 and give it a reblog and a like on here and let me know what you think ☺️

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29908596

#farah dowling x saul silva #farah dowling #saul silva #fanfic #ao3 #promt #fate the winx saga #fate winx saga #winx saga

[aspenflower17]

Finding You (Part Six of ??)

Heya! I finished part six (yay!) and it is ready to be read 😁 It’s weird to me I’m on part six already seeing as how that seems like a lot, but also not enough. If you’re new here, the link to Part One is below. I also have links at the bottom of each chapter to go to the next one. You can also find my new Master List on my blog as a pinned post. As always, if you would like to be added to the tags list, just ask in a comment down below, or you can send me a message, and likes, comments and reblogs are always welcome!

Also, for anyone wondering, IKEA was fun (as always), but the store actually reached max capacity.. 1,400 people... During a pandemic... The line was so long, it reached the back of the self-serve furniture area (the place where you can pick up all the heavy/big items), and was starting to wrap around. Note, our IKEA has the switchback thing that amusement parks have for rides... So the line was easily hour wait. Suffice to say, we didn’t end up buying anything.

Part One

The Peeps!:  @simpingforsatan @naimena @hachimochi @wrathandgreed @magi-minminxiii @rensphilia

Word Count: 2030

Triggers/warnings: claustrophobia?... Maybe...?

I had my show in the Devildom. It was successful. He didn’t show up though.

Mc sighed, putting her journal down. As much as she hated to admit it, she was too upset to make much more of an entry for the day. It had been her first show in the Devildom, and it had been a huge success. She should be happy. No other show had ever been as successful. She wanted to be happy. She wasn’t though.

Mc got up to open her suitcase. She had made a secret compartment to carry the letter S had written to her. It had given her a lot of strength over the years and she almost considered it a good luck charm at this point. She reread the letter, laying down on the bed, though she knew it by heart at this point. 

She knew she was probably projecting too much on S. Besides the letter, she had only spoken with him maybe half an hour. Why was she so caught up on him? She didn’t even know his real name. Yes, he had greatly impacted her life and his letter and words of comfort had been a constant companion, but what did she actually know about him?

A sharp rap at her door interrupted her search, “Mc? Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Luke entered her room, carrying a tray of tea.

“I figured you could use some tea after the day you’ve had.”

“Oh, thank you,” Mc smiled softly as Luke brought over a chair.

“Still upset?” Luke asked, pouring a cup for Mc.

“Hmmm?”

“Ever since the show you’ve seemed unhappy. Kind of depressed, like when you were a child.”

“Ah, well, I was a bit upset that my artist talk was interrupted so abruptly.”

“That turned out alright though, didn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s just not the same,” Mc shrugged, taking the proffered tea.

“So, that’s seriously what’s bothering you?” Luke asked, his eyebrow arched, then, “You’ll have plenty more shows down here if Diavolo had anything to say about it.”

“You think so?”

Luke smiled and shook his head at Mc, “Of course, silly. Barbatos told me all about it when I was getting the tea.”

“Well, I’m glad. I like it here, even though most of my time so far has been spent in that gallery space.”

“Well, I don’t know how much Michael likes it down here. I kept telling him he needs to ask Diavolo about Lucifer, but he says it’d be improper.”

Mc snorted, “Well, we wouldn’t want to be improper now would we?”

“He’ll be so surprised when he finds out what Diavolo’s planning for next week.”

“Hmmm?”

“I can’t tell you about it yet. It’s not set in stone, so I don’t want to get your hopes up.”

“Luuuuke! Where are you?” Michael’s voice came drifting from down the stairs, “I can’t figure out how to turn on the light in here!”

Luke rubbed his temple, “I’ve explained it like three times… Hold on! I’ll be down in a second!” Luke kissed Mc on the cheek, “Get some sleep and cheer up Sis.”

“Thanks Luke,” Mc smiled up at him, “I do have the best big brother don’t I?”

Luke grinned happily, “Good night Mc.”

After he left, Mc’s smile faltered and then fell. Her thoughts returning to before he had come in, “I should probably find something to do to break me out of this. Sulking in my room isn’t going to get me anywhere. I do have a whole castle to explore, though I don’t know how much of it I’m allowed to explore… Surely they couldn’t get too mad about me checking out the library…” and with that, she put her letter back in it’s secret place and left her room.

The castle was quiet, the padding of her feet the only sound. I guess even demons sleep. Her knowledge of demons seemed woefully inadequate as opposed to the knowledge she had about anything else that interested her. There just hadn’t been much information to find in the Celestial Realm unless it was how to defeat a demon, or to break the influence they had over a human. Of course she’d also heard the stories about the Great Celestial War. Six angels, led by the Morningstar himself, had gone on a rampage, and had been cast out. Being a scholar, Mc had never found a reason why they had rebelled, though she had read a lot of theories, most of them mere speculation that cast angels in the purest light possible. These, of course, she hadn’t listened to too intent;y. She knew angels had a lot of secrets already, being privy to many of them; they weren’t entirely innocent in many respects. She suspected this was true of this instance as well.

The library proved to be hard to find in one night, but by the time Mc felt sleep start to pull her back to her room, she had the layout of the castle halls almost memorized. She had actually found it easy to do, easier than almost every other place she’d been in. Of course, she didn’t know everything about the castle. If this castle didn’t prove to have a lot of secret doors and passageways, she would be sorely disappointed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The fog was so thick Mc felt like she could chew it. The ground beneath her feet was soft, but it didn’t feel like anything she knew. There was no sound, not even her breathing. Just a murky white everywhere. Mc couldn’t remember how she got here or what she was doing here, but she was searching. No time to think. No time to remember. She needed to find it. She had lost it. It hadn’t been on purpose, but it had happened. She would find it though. Surely she could find it. It was the most important thing. Cherished. Loved. So important.

The world was growing colder. Her hands were stinging and her feet were clumsy. She could still feel though. So cold. Too cold to move, yet she did. Nothing should be working right now. She should’ve collapsed long ago. How long ago? How long had she been here? Did it matter?

She hadn’t found the thing yet. What was it? If she found it, she’d be warm. It would keep her warm and safe. No more searching. She would never lose it again. She just needed to find it.

A dim light started to pulse slowly. Was that it? Was that what she had lost? No. Maybe it could help her find it. The light got brighter as she continued forward. What was it? Light was good though, right? Light was a marker. Light could help the lost. It illuminated. It could help her find it.

The light was now right in front of her. It was so bright! Almost blindingly so. The area around her started to heat up, her feet and hands throbbing with relief. Was this it? What she had been searching for? Something within her screamed to turn around, but the heat was so welcome, even if it hurt. Hurt worse than anything she knew. She would be safe here. If she had to keep searching, so be it. She just needed to rest a bit. She reached out to the light, her hand backlit against the light. She grabbed at the light, and was then falling.

Mc gasped, sitting up straight in bed. Where was the light? Where was she? After a couple moments, Mc remembered where she was. On a bed. In a guest room. In Lord Diavolo’s castle. In the Devildom.

Mc reached for the glass on the bedside table with shaking hands. Spilling a little on her blankets, she tried to shake off the claustrophobic feeling that lingered. She hadn’t had a dream about her first memory in a while. After she had become an angel she had learned about what happened to human souls after they passed. Some found their way straight to the Celestial Realm, blinking and waking up to the eternal light. Some were wanderers though. While many wandered just a little while, some wandered endlessly through the fog she had experienced. Though the angels didn’t know exactly what caused this, many of those who wandered a long time before finding their way to the Celestial Realm were sad in some way, as she was.

She had gone home that day and asked Simeon about it, and he had told her she had wandered the longest of any soul in the Celestial Realm. She had been very cold and it had taken a while for her to wake up. She had been a little horrified, and Simeon assured her it was nothing to be concerned or ashamed about. It was simply a fact and no one held it against her, least of all Luke or him. She had wanted to believe him so bad, but everyone treated her lasting loneliness as a bad thing, so she had been forced to hide it. Pretend she didn’t feel lonely. Pretend she was fine.

She fumbled for something to distract herself and found her DDD. She worked for a second and finally turned it on, the light actually hurting her eyes. They adjusted quickly though and she groaned as she saw it was nowhere near time to get up. The thought of falling asleep again was not an option so she decided to start scrolling though Devilgram. Apparently the app was rather old as far as in-vogue apps went, but Lord Diavolo had said he would never use a different social media app, so it persisted as the number one app. She still wasn’t really used to the layout, Luke having helped her set up her artist’s talk.

She went to the post and found a lot of comments and likes. She started reading them, smiling as people praised the ingenuity of her work, frowning slightly at those who were impressed “an angel could have such an eye for art”, and rolling her eyes at the comments that criticized her species, clearly just upset she was an angel.

As she continued reading however, she ran across a couple comments asking if anyone had more information about the demons who had caused quite the uproar during the artists talk. Confused, because everyone had been very respectful at the center, Mc opened the replies, and found a whole thread of people who were upset they had been pushed and otherwise knocked out of the way of one demon who had been running through the maze following another demon who had been flying. Many speculated they were the reason the artists' talk had been cut short, and some theorized they were running to the center to harm her. A couple people tried to cut through the noise, stating the demons in question were Mammon and Satan, both Avatars of Sin. Most of the comments about this said Mammon acting this way seemed normal, but they couldn’t understand why Satan would do something like that. It seemed so out of character, a lot of the replies to these comments said they were either liars or sorely mistaken thinking it was Satan.

Mc’s heart jolted a little bit, seeing Mammon’s name. She recognized it as one of the angels who had fallen, and the name Satan had been mentioned in some history accounts as having taken form from Lucifer’s anger, though the information on him had been scarce and some thought he was just a myth. After all, how could someone be born from an emotion?

So, he’s real after all. Not that I thought he wasn’t, or at least, I figured there was at least some truth to the stories. Oh, someone has a picture of them. Wait… Is that?

At that moment, the app shut down.

“No, no, no, no,” Mc said, clicking the app again. It couldn’t have been… Could it? Her screen changed, but nothing loaded. An error message then popped up on screen, saying the app could not load, and to try again later.

Mc sat stunned for a second before springing into action.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Seven

#obey me! #OBEY ME #obey me! swd #obey me satan #obey me mc #obey me michael #obey me diavolo #obey me luke

[captain-tch]

All That I Can Give

summary: kiko is a struggling business owner thrown into the chaos of the borderlands. when she makes a mistake that will threaten her life, she learns just how far she will go to keep herself alive. 

TW: DEATH, MENTIONS OF ATTEMPTED SUICIDE, MENTAL HEALTH, TOXIC RELATIONSHIPS, VIOLENCE

chapter 9: question time

previous chapter

Coming back to the pharmacy that night was hard. Neither of them spoke. Kiko wasn’t sure she could form words; she was pretty certain Tetsu didn’t have the energy for it. She didn’t mind. The silence gave her chance to mull over the events that night. 

The more she thought about it, the less she felt. 

She stared at her hands in awe. These hands, her hands, took down the one true evil in her life. It destroyed her tormentor and now her chest felt lighter than it ever had before. No longer did she have to worry about Riku coming home with an ever changing palette of bruises on his skin. She no longer had to fear the store being looted at night. She no longer had to sleep with a pair of scissors nestled underneath her pillow. 

She could start to breathe again. 

A deep shame took root in her body. Kiko felt like she should hold some level of remorse. She stole a human life when she didn’t need to. Yet as much as tried to dig deep into herself to find a single negative emotion about what happened, she found... nothing. 

She sighed, looking up at the pharmacy door. She shrugged her shoulder, jolting Tetsu awake. Her voice was frail, her throat scratching as she forced words out. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. Where are the keys?” 

“As if I’d trust you to use them.” He took a step away from Kiko, swaying on the spot. She jumped forward as he started to dip towards the ground, catching him just before his head hit the ground. Tetsu stared up at her with an icy stare. “I can do it.” 

Rolling her eyes, Kiko let Tetsu go. He thudded to the ground, a high pitched moan emitting from his mouth. His glare didn’t lessen in intensity as he somehow found a way to stand upright long enough to unlock the door. He clutched onto the door handle like it was a crutch. 

Entering the building, Tetsu collapsed to the floor in a heap. Kiko gently kicked him out of the way, shutting the door with a soft slam and proceeding to lock all of the 4 locks barricading the door. Tetsu watched with hawk eyes as she did this. 

“Don’t you trust me?” Kiko smirked. 

“Trust is a loose term.” 

She scoffed. Taking in his bloodied and bruised form, she started to walk through the aisles. “What’s the best stuff to deal with... you?” 

“Poison,” he muttered sarcastically to himself. A little louder this time, he told her to grab some dressing, water, cloth and pain relief. She scavenged the area for the supplies, returning to his side a few minutes later. 

Kiko pointed at his shirt. Tetsu frowned at her, waiting for her to elaborate. Kiko tried to open her mouth to speak, swallowing thickly as the words got lodged in her throat. Unconsciously a hand drifted to her throat. 

Tetsu watched her struggle silently. She took a few moments to compose herself, gesturing again to his shirt and making a lifting motion with her hand. It took some time for it to register.

Grunting under his breath, he tried to lift his shift off himself. As soon as he tried to lift his arms above his head he cried out, body going lax. His head fell back against the cupboard. He took three calming breaths, face scrunching up when he breathed deeply. 

His hands went to the bottom of his shirt when Kiko stopped him. Halting him in his tracks, she pushed his hands away, giving him a tiny smile. “You can trust your body guard.” 

She found a pair of scissors nearby, making quick work of cutting off his shirt. She pulled the excess material away, touch light as she pulled it off his body. He winced slightly but said nothing else. 

When his chest was finally exposed to her, she couldn’t withhold her gasp. His chest was a canvas of colour, bruises turning a dark colour on the surface. In some areas his chest had been cut, blood crusted around the wounds. From the way his hand was lingering near his ribs and the pigments there, she was certain he had broken his ribs. 

“I’m so sorry Ryuk did this to you.” Kiko turned her gaze downwards, busying her hands with wetting some cloth with water. 

“It’s not your fault.” He watched her movements carefully, eyes running over the wounds littering her body. They seemed to fixate on the bruise around her neck the most. “You’re hurt too.” 

Kiko brushed it off. Her elbow throbbed, her back ached and she was fairly certain there was a possibility she might have to be mute for a while. Even with these growing concerns in her mind, she sent him a trembling smile, speaking in a raspy voice.  “It’s nothing.” 

Tetsu nodded. Kiko started to make work of cleaning the blood from his skin, the cloth turning a rusty red as she washed his face. Her movements were so light Tetsu could barely feel her touch him. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Kiko raised a brow. Tetsu wasn’t normally one to ask questions, and if he did, he surely never asked permission. Silently she bobbed her head.  

“How do you know Ryuk?” 

She froze. She contemplated telling Tetsu where to shove his question (more specifically, up his ass), or just be honest with him. It felt like he was knowing more about her daily, and to her, he was still a stranger. 

“How about I answer your question, for the price of asking you a question.” Kiko was surprised when Tetsu agreed. 

Kiko continued cleaning his skin, dipping the cloth back into the water. Ever so slowly it was beginning to turn a murky colour. “Do you remember the game where we met?” 

Tetsu nodded. 

“I mentioned my debt. Well, he was one of the more, untraditional debt collectors.” Kiko moved to cleaning his chest now, making her touch feather flight. She could still feel him tense under the sensation. “He caused my family misery for years.” 

“Do you feel better for killing him?” 

Kiko halted. She felt her words falter, something she tried to pin on her aching throat, trying to form an answer to a question she wasn’t sure she had. “It’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Fire away,” he relented. 

“How did you know the answer?” It didn’t long for Tetsu to realise she was referring to the seven of diamonds game. It had been boggling her ever since the game was completed and she could think straight. He slumped down, letting Kiko finish cleaning him before answering. 

“I didn’t.” He shrugged, hissing at the sudden movement. “I took a chance and it paid off.”

Kiko stared at him, mouth opening and closing. She struggled to fathom why he would gamble with his life so freely, so easily. She opened her mouth to question it, his voice interrupting her. “A question for a question?” 

Kiko nodded. 

“Do you regret killing Ryuk?” 

She knew the question was coming and she still had to give herself time to think. It was true that she felt safer now that he was gone. She didn’t regret it at the time. Afterwards she was horrified by what she did. But with the image of his mangled head appearing in his mind, she found the only thing she felt was elation. “I only regret that it will haunt me for the rest of my life.” 

He hummed, sated with her half truth. Now Kiko was itching to ask him a question that had been burning in her mind since he revealed his truth. “Why gamble your life like that?” 

Kiko reached for the dressing, starting to unravel it. She pushed herself closer to Tetsu, wrapping the material around his chest tightly. His skin was cool and smooth to touch. He drew in a large breath. “If I was right, then it wouldn’t be so bad. If I was wrong, well, it could be worse.” 

“You would have died.” 

Tetsu’s silence spoke a thousand words. It struck a chord within her. She was sent back to a chilly day, wrapped up in a thick, black jacket, a note crumpled in her pocket. A train could be heard rattling down the tracks. Her toes tiptoed the edge, bracing herself for the impact that would never come. 

Kiko shook herself. It would do her no good to be thinking of that here. 

Tying the dressing, she marvelled her work. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. “Not too tight?” 

Tetsu grunted. “Perfect.” 

“Can I do anything else to help?” 

She could see how much it physically pained him to ask. “Can you help me to the couch?” 

With one arm wrapped around her waist, they shakily walked to their makeshift bedroom. Kiko made an effort to ensure Tetsu was comfortable, shifting pillows and dragging the blanket over him. 

“Kiko?” Tetsu looked up at her with half lidded eyes. “Make sure you drink some water.” 

He gave her a small smile, his wrecked body rapidly falling asleep. 

Kiko sighed, moving to the other room to address her own wounds. Like Tetsu advised she dabbed some water on her bruises, paying particular attention to the one wrapped around her throat. If she looked closely enough, she could make out where Ryuk’s fingers had marked her. She carefully cleaned her elbow, being sure to pull as many shards of glass out as she could. She was unable to control how her breath hitched each time a particularly sharp shard was pulled from out of her skin. 

With her elbow cleaned and bandaged, a yawn consumed her. She nestled into her make shift bed, glancing at a half full water bottle calling her from across the room. 

Kiko swiftly turned away, quickly falling into a world of blood soaked dreams. 

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland fanfic #alice in borderland fanfiction #aib #aib fanfic #aib fanfiction

[shou-aizawa]

attention pt.2 [dadmight]

pairings: toshinori yagi & daughter!reader

warnings: angst, stabbing

summary:  growing up with your dad being the symbol of peace was hard, and you were finally done trying to be enough for him.

word count: 3.2k

a/n: wow okay so this took a little longer than i would’ve liked and i didnt even realise it got so long but im really happy with how it turned out! lemme know what you think, and remember my inbox is always open for prompts!

quirk: so in this chapter y/n uses her quirk! i went with a simple barrier quirk. she has the ability to summon a protective barrier at will, it can absorb most quirk attacks but has limits to how much it can handle.

Toshinori didn’t get home until later that night around eight p.m. He stepped inside, a box of cookies tucked under his arm and a slight smile on his face. He closed the door, locked it, then shrugged his jacket off, hanging it up and glancing towards the stairs, a frown making its way onto his face at the unusual darkness in the house.

All the lights were off, and when he took a moment to listen, Toshinori realised the house was quiet, too quiet. He’d grown used to hearing Y/N’s music playing, or the sound of her pacing around her room, but there was nothing. Just silence.

And it unsettled him.

“Y/N?” He called, walking towards the stairs and setting the box of cookies down on the nearest surface absentmindedly. 

He waited a couple seconds, then a couple more, but got no answer. Maybe she was asleep, his mind tried to rationalise as Toshinori started up the stairs. Aizawa had mentioned that she was a little off during training, maybe she was just tired and had gone to bed early.

Flicking the lights on as he went, Toshinori made his way to the end of the hallway where Y/N’s door was slightly ajar, and pushed it open as quietly as he could in case she was actually asleep.

The room was dark, only barely illuminated by the light pouring in from the hallway, which provided just enough visibility for Toshinori to see Y/N’s bed,

Her empty bed.

He flipped the light switch and stepped into the room, looking around frantically as panic seized him. Digging around in his pocket for his phone, he tried to calm himself. It was possible that she went out with friends and just forgot to let him know, right? She could be at the library or out shopping, he couldn’t let himself panic.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and quickly finding Y/N’s contact, calling it immediately.

After a few seconds, to Toshinori’s dismay, Y/N’s ringtone started playing from the phone that lay on her desk.

She could have just forgotten it, right? Right. If she just went out to run a quick errand she wouldn’t need her phone. Right?

Toshinori took a couple deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down and think rationally, pushing away the terrifying thought of Y/N being kidnapped.. or worse.

He continued breathing deeply, keeping a tight grip on his phone as he turned and left the room, making his way back down stairs. He would wait, he decided. Wait to see if Y/N would come back, he couldn’t let himself jump to conclusions and risk stirring up panic over nothing.

And so, Toshinori sat down at the dining table, setting his phone down and clasping his hands together as he waited.

Every hour that passed made him worry even more, and by the time midnight came around and there was still no sign of Y/N, he knew for sure that something was wrong, and his mind filled with panic.

Did someone find out she was his daughter and decide to kidnap her? Was she hurt? Was she still alive?

He reached for his phone with a shaking hand, calling Tsukauchi and praying that the man was still awake. After three rings, Toshinori heard the tired detective’s voice and felt his shoulders sag.

“Toshinori? What’s the-“

“Y/N’s gone.”

-

A week had passed since Y/N ran away, and she had never felt better.

Alright… maybe that wasn’t strictly true. The weather was getting colder and the novelty of sleeping on a rooftop wore off after just a couple days, becoming uncomfortable instead.

Not to mention money was becoming an issue. Despite the fact she was eating just enough to keep herself going, her funds were starting to get low, and if she didn’t think of a way to get more, she’d be in trouble pretty soon. She’d bought herself a cheap hoodie and hat, just to make sure she wasn’t recognised by anyone, but was now wishing she’d saved that money instead.

She tried to think of different ways to get money without getting a job - because doing that was sure to get her caught - as she wandered around the streets, head tilted upwards and eyes fixed on the buildings around her, searching for a suitable rooftop to spend the night on.

It was dark now, a little after ten at night, the murky light from the street lamps gave her surroundings an eerie feel and the lack of people on the street around her made her shudder,

Not that she was scared of being alone, of course. She could protect herself with no problem, she was sure of that. But the fact that she could protect herself didn’t make the idea of an altercation any more appealing.

A tall, seemingly abandoned building caught her eye eventually, and she tilted her head. The windows and doors were boarded up, but if she managed to find a way inside it would be a good place to set up camp. However, if that didn’t work out, she could always climb up the side and spend the night on the roof instead, it was high enough to hide her from anyone down on the ground, and she didn’t think any patrolling heroes would ever bother going that high up anyway.

She picked up the pace a little, jogging over to the building, then into the alley next to it, topping in her tracks when she came upon a not-so-pleasant scenario.

A young man held against the wall by his neck, legs flailing and hands scratching at the single hand around his throat which belonged to a burly looking man, with abnormally large muscles that Y/N chalked up to the result of an enhancement quirk of some sort. She was frozen in place for a moment, debating turning and running away because she really couldn’t afford to get hurt right now, but the young man let out a strangled whimper and suddenly she was running.

“Let him go, you creep!” She yelled, feet beating against the concrete as she charged towards the two. She shrugged her bag off, gripping it tightly by the strap with both hands. When she was close enough, using the momentum from her speed, Y/N swung at the aggressor, the side of her bag colliding with his head. The suddenness of the attack, combined with Y/N’s strength had the man stumbling sideways, hand slipping away from the younger man’s neck.

Moving quickly, Y/N stepped between the two men, throwing her arms up in a cross formation and summoning a shimmering barrier that separated her and the younger man from the aggressor.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to hold her barrier up if the guy started swinging, if he was as strong as he looked, she would definitely struggle, but she figured she could hold it just long enough to get the other guy out of there.

“Go!” She said quickly, glancing over her shoulder at the man who was busy trying to get his breathing back under control. He paused for a moment, then caught her eye and nodded. “I’ll hold him off, you just get out of here.” 

The burly man finally recovered from the blow to his head, and stepped forward, swinging a fist at the barrier. Y/N looked back at him just in time to brace herself for the impact, gritting her teeth and digging her heels into the ground. The man swung another punch, then another after that, unrelenting, and Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, her arms starting to ache from the blows.

She heard coughing behind her, and cursed quietly, realising the other guy hadn’t listened and was still there. She knew she couldn’t hold her barrier for much longer against the constant attacks, and glanced over her shoulder again, opening her mouth to tell him to get out of there, but not getting the chance to. 

All she got was a quick glimpse of a blade, then there was a sharp pain in her side. Y/N gasped, both in surprise and pain. Her barrier fell apart as her hands flew to her side and she stumbled sideways, losing her footing and landing heavily on the ground. Why had the younger man attacked her? She had been sure he was the victim, but it became apparent it was all-

She lost her train of thought when she lifted her hand and saw it was covered with blood. Her blood.

Her breathing picked up slightly, but she did her best not to panic, she was still in danger after all, she couldn’t just let her guard down. 

Keeping one hand pressed against her wound, she got back to her feet, leaning against the wall for balance as the world spun. She looked towards the two men, and saw them rooting through her bag. She cursed under her breath, they were looking for her money- she couldn’t let them take it, she needed that.

She pushed herself off the wall, her side protesting against the movement, but before she could even take a single step, grey bindings appeared, wrapping around both men tightly and restraining them.

Y/N stared for a moment, eyes wide. She’d seen those before.

Eraserhead’s capture weapon. Mr Aizawa- if he realised who she was, he’d take her back home, she didn’t want that, she couldn’t go back. So when Eraser jumped down from the roofs above, keeping a solid hold on the two men, Y/N fought through a wave of dizziness and - with help from the wall - started shuffling out of the alley. He would be busy for a few seconds, and she could leave-

“Hey, kid.”

Y/N groaned, whether it was out of frustration or pain, she wasn’t sure. Her leg moved to take another step, but her knee buckled when she attempted it, and she crumpled to the ground. Or she would have, if it wasn’t for the arms that wrapped around her quickly and held her up.

“You’re hurt, you shouldn’t move too much,” Eraser said, carefully setting Y/N down on the ground, her back leaning against the wall. Glancing over at where the two men had been, Y/N realised they were now both lying unconscious on the ground.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, voice strangely dry, “I gotta go..”

It was at that moment that Eraser realised who she was, it was obvious by the way he froze for a moment and tilted his head, getting a better look at her face. “Y/N?” He said, shifting and pressing his hands against her wound, making her wince quietly.

“No, not me,” she mumbled, weakly pushing at his hands as tears welled up in the corner of her eyes. She didn’t want to go home, her dad- everyone would be so mad. “just lemme go…”

“No chance, kid. Everyone’s been worried.” Eraser said, taking one hand away and pulling what Y/N could barely make out as a phone out of his pocket. She started to panic, her breathing picking up and the tears that had gathered in her eyes slipping down her cheeks steadily.

When he lifted the phone up to his ear, Y/N switched from pushing at his hand to trying to knock the phone away. “Don’t- don’ call them, please, sir,” she said quietly, a weak sob leaving her. “He doesn’t care.. just leave me alone..”

Her pleading was for nought and eventually trailed off into quiet sobs as Eraser made his phone calls, keeping constant pressure on her wound. Y/N could barely keep her eyes open anymore, the pain from her side seemed to spread to her whole body and made the edges of her vision feel fuzzy.

She was sure Eraser was talking to her, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying anymore.

Her eyes finally slipped shut just as the bright lights of the ambulance flickered into view.

-

When Y/N drifted back into consciousness slowly, too slowly for her liking, the first thing she was aware of was the steady beeping somewhere to her right, then the strange aching in her side. She opened her eyes, squinting against the morning sun that shone through the curtains on her left.

Once her eyes adjusted, she glanced around, taking in her surroundings and realising she was lying in a hospital bed, and her dad was asleep in the chair by her bedside.

It was probably worrying that her first instinct was to get out of there, but Y/N didn’t care, and she sat up as quietly as she could as to not wake her dad. She bit back a wince when her side gave a stab of pain, but found that if she moved slowly, the pain would fade into a dull, manageable ache.

She shifted to the side, taking her eyes off her dad for a moment so that she could get off the bed safely. She heard him stir behind her when she got one foot on the floor, and cursed silently.

“Y/N? You’re awake,” her dad said, clearing his throat slightly, the chair squeaking a little as he moved and sat up a little straighter. If he noticed that she was trying to get out of the bed, he didn’t address it directly, just reached out and took hold of her arm, gently tugging her back on to the bed. And Y/N, not wanting to cause a scene, let him, getting settled back against the pillows, hand clutching her injured side protectively.

“Doctor’s said you might be quite sore there for a while,” he said quietly, “so you should take it easy for the next few days.”

Y/N nodded, not giving him any more of a reply than that and choosing to stare out the window instead of looking at him. It was quiet for a moment, neither of them saying anything, until Toshinori cleared his throat once more.

“So,” he started, “the last week has been… eventful.”

Y/N nodded again, still not looking at him.

“Is… is there anything we need to talk about, Y/N?” Her dad asked gently. For a moment it seemed as if he wasn’t going to get a response, but then Y/N spoke up.

“I just have a question,” she said quietly, switching her gaze down towards her lap now. “Did- did I do something wrong? Did I do something to.. to make you hate me?” She asked, her voice cracking slightly.

“Of course not,” Toshinori said almost immediately, frowning worriedly. “Why.. why would you think that?”

“Because-“ she scoffed slightly. “Because my whole life, I feel like I’ve been fighting for your attention... first with your job and then with- with Midoriya.”

Toshinori opened his mouth to say something, but Y/N continued without giving him the chance. “I tried to be.. better, I worked even harder at school to get the best grades.. I- I worked to control my quirk and to get strong enough to get into UA…” She laughed dryly. “ You know, I don’t think I ever wanted to be a hero to help people.. it just felt like the only way to get your attention and.. and your approval, that maybe if I became as strong a hero as you, you’d be proud of me.”

Tears had begun welling up in her eyes, and she blinked rapidly, wiping them away. She didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to seem weak.

“I thought that since you were going to be doing less hero work.. and that you’d be teaching at UA, maybe we’d be able to spend more time together,” she whispered, “but then Midoriya came along and- and it feels like he’s your kid more than I ever was. I would see you train him sometimes.. and you two would go out for lunch together.. and you- you always looked so proud of him... and I hated it.. I hated it so much because I wanted you to look at me in that way.” 

A tear rolled down her cheek and she didn’t bother wiping it away this time. “I- I started to hate *him* too, just because he had what I didn’t. Just because he had you.”

She was crying freely now, barely managing to hold back her sobs. “One day it just got too much, I was so tired of constantly fighting for approval with no results.. so I left. I ran away and I- I felt so much better, I finally felt free, because for the first time in my life I was doing something for myself.”

She didn’t dare look at her dad, instead she hugged herself tightly as tears continued to flow and her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs. She’d finally told him everything, everything she’d been bottling up and living with for years, everything that had been eating away at her, and she didn’t know how to feel. Part of her was relieved, the weight she’d been carrying around had finally disappeared, but she was also terrified. 

He hated her now, surely. She’d been so selfish, how could he ever-

“I am so.. so sorry, Y/N.” Toshinori said quietly, emotion seeping into his voice. Y/N looked over at him with wide eyes, not having expected him to say that. He looked broken, hunched over and barely holding back tears. “I’ve been so selfish.”

“What- what do you mean?” Y/N whispered, wiping her tears away once more.

Her dad sighed. “I knew raising a child alone and being a hero wouldn’t be easy… some even told me it was impossible, but-“ he paused. “I didn’t want to lose my little girl.. I couldn’t bear the thought of entrusting you to someone else.. I wanted to be in your life, to be your dad but... I did a pretty crappy job of it, didn’t I?” He said, finishing with another sigh.

“So I’m sorry, Y/N,” he continued, raising his head to look at her, regret evident on his face. “You deserve so much better than me, someone who would’ve looked after you properly, but…” He reached out, putting his hand on Y/N’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “If you were to forgive me, to give me a second chance - which I don’t expect you to - I would grab it with both hands and make it count. I’d do better, I’d make sure to never make you feel that way again, I swear to you.”

Y/N took a trembling breath, then leaned over to him as carefully as she could and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug,

“I forgive you.” She said, hiding her face in Toshinori’s shoulder as he returned the hug. “And I want to give you another chance, there’s nothing I’d love more.”

Both of them were crying by now, but neither of them were bothered. Toshinori turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss to Y/N’s temple. “Thank you,” he whispered, “thank you so much... I won’t let you down again.”

Y/N nodded, breathing in shakily. “I love you, dad.”

“I love you too.”

#mouse writes #bnha #boku no hero acadamia #bnha fanfiction #my hero acadamia #dadmight #dad might #yagi toshinori #yagi toshinori & reader #bnha oneshots #bnha imagines #all might #reader insert #reader #angst #whump

[minimalintelligence]

This boat that's keeping us a float (2/...)

So, I'm continuing this. Yep. It's a mess, but eh. I really wanted to thank @gridoc for reading the last part. It really made my day!

____________

Doc awoke as the sun rose above the horizon. He groaned, but nonetheless got up off of the floor. For a second he was confused as to why he was on board some dinky ship, but reality quickly settled in.

"Great." His tone of voice was both tired and annoyed. He leaned back against the wall and let out a sigh. Doc glanced around the room, at the many boring trinkets hung upon the walls. An old sword, some sea shells, bottles of cheap wine, a watch, he put the last one in his pocket. Glancing once more around the room he noticed a sleeping figure on the ground. His mood doing a complete one eighty. "Great." This time his tone was excited.

But his happiness was short-lived when the ship suddenly shook and sank a bit. He held onto the wall to keep himself steady. Doc noted that the ship seemed to be completely still. And though he could hear the wind faintly blowing outside, and the waves hit the sides of the ship, the craft in question didn't move. He was snapped out of his thoughts by a groan.

"Wha..What?" Grian, who had seemingly woken up because of the shaking of the ship, asked. After a few seconds he let out a sound of disappointment and said. "Really? I thought that was a dream."

"Nope. Sorry to say, that is not the case." Doc said startling Grian, who had apparently not noticed the pirate's presence. After a second of silence a grin spread on Doc's face and an annoyed glare appeared on Grian’s. "What pirate?"

"Oh nothing, I'd just assume that an event like that would've been classified as a nightmare, rather than a dream. Unless.." His smile widened as he took a step in Grian direction. "..my presence was enough to turn a nightmare to a dream.."

"No! That's not what I meant and you know it, pirate!" Grian yelled out, his face bright pink. Before Doc could give a witty remark, the ship once again shook and sank a bit. He sighed. "I'm going to check what's happening." Doc said before exiting the room.

Looking around the deck he noted a few things: it was covered in a layer of water, the sails were torn and there was no land in the surrounding area. At this point Doc was confused. The anchor wasn't down, there was no land nearby and it didn't seem like the sea floor was remotely close enough to hit.

Once he went below deck he saw the cause of the stop, along with the cause of the shaking. "Massive jagged stones." Grian said in a dead tone from next to him, startling Doc stightly, but the pirate tried his best not to show it. "They're all around the area, just a few meters under water. Though the waters murky so you have to know what you're looking for to see them."

The ship had been ripped through by such rocks. Though the ship seemed to mostly stop moving after the impact, which meant the holes were smaller than they could've been, but still, water was leaking in, and causing the craft to slowly sink.

"Do you have any fishing boats on this thing? Or do I have to build a raft?" Doc asked, his tone both stressed and slightly playful. Grian pointed above them, when Doc looked up he noted the two fishing boats. One seemingly older and worse for wear, the other one newer and even had a small roofed area.

"They took everything they own with them." Grian said still in the same dead tone. Doc noting the tone of Grian’s voice and the past tense responded.

"Hey just because they're not on board right now, doesn't mean they're dead." He said trying to lighten Grian’s mood. Grian just looked him dead in the eyes, before sighing.

"That sentence is factually incorrect. Completely. 1. They're on this ship. 2. It does mean they're dead." He finished by pointing his finger to the other side of the room. The water in that area was red and you could see some hair floating on the surface. Grian sighed. "Not the first time I've seen that, but I really hope it's the last." Doc looked at the area, feeling uncomfortable, sure, he's seen other people die, sure he's caused it before. But he's never the one to see them once the water calms. It's eerie, and doesn't feel very good.

"So I take one boat you take the other?" Grian said, seemingly back to normal. "I think it would be a better idea if we took the better one together." Doc stated with confidence. "You'd probably die if you took the old one alone."

Grian glared at him. "What makes you think I'd allow you to take the good one?" Doc playfully glared back. "What makes you think you have any choice in the matter?" Grian took a step in Docs direction. "I've beaten you once, pirate, I won't hesitate to do it again." Doc just grinned in response. "I'm sure you won't, but what would you win in this situation anyway? The other boat is falling apart, you'd leave another person stranded in the middle of nowhere alone? And here I thought you Navy men had honour.." Grian's face turned red in embarrassment before he turned and headed back on deck. "I'll get the supplies!" He yelled in an annoyed tone.

Doc let out a chuckle, before grabbing a barrel from the room and placing it under the boat. "Now how do I get you down and out..?"

~

Grian walked across the deck looking for anything useful. He'd already piled up some blankets, towels and cushions. He'd decided to get as much stuff as possible, then decide with Doc what they need. He decided to take some salt with them and some pickles just in case, he saw no use for the wine. As he was grabbing some fishing equipment his thoughts wandered back to Doc. He was confused as to a few things. One why had Doc and his crew even been in the area, there wasn't anything worth visiting around them, two, why hadn't the pirate's crew returned for him yet and--

A loud crash -wood splintering- interrupted Grian thoughts. He hurried below deck to check what had happened. Once he arrived he saw a massive hole is the side of the already pretty broken ship and next it was standing a very satisfied looking Doc.

"Why in the world did you do that!?" Grian yelled, getting Doc's attention on him. "Had to get the boat out." Doc stated in a matter of fact way. "And I think I did it quite well." He finished smugly.

"You know we could've gotten it up together and into the water like that? I was concerned." Grian said the last part under his breath, but Doc seemed to hear anyway. "Aww.. You were worried about me!" Grian flustered though he still attempted to glare at Doc. "I was concerned about the boat, damn pirate."

"Right, sure. What supplies did you manage to get?" Doc asked, his grin ever present on his face. Grian glared a bit before going back on deck followed by Doc. "Pickles, salt, blankets, towels, cushions, fishing equipment, rope, some bottled water, extra clothes and a few other things. We need to decide what's the most important." Doc nodded his head and grabbed a few things: two cushions, the clothes, matches and an oil lamp, the fishing equipment, the salt, a blanket and some other smaller things Grian didn't bother to note.

The two headed down to the hole in the wall Doc had made while getting the boat out of the ship. The pirate hopped over onto the fishing boat first laying down the cushions and blankets in the part of the boat covered by the roof and the rest of the supplies on them. Grian hopped over next. He stumbled slightly but Doc caught him in his arms.

Grian face once again turned pink. "..Thanks, I guess." He said quietly, but Doc's whole face seemed to light up upon hearing that, which only made Grian blush harder. 'I've got to stop being a blushing so much, he's a pirate, not just some...mildly attractive... guy.' Grian noted in his head before sitting down in the boat.

Doc started prepping the craft to sail. Doc felt comfortable in the silence, but Grian felt awkward. He cleared his throat. "So, your crew must be looking for you?"

"Nah, yelled at them not to before we separated. Plus, they wouldn't do it anyway, unless I was gone for over a month. We agreed on that after the first time I got stranded in the middle of nowhere." Grian looked at Doc with disbelief. "How many times have you been stranded..?" The boat started moving north away from the ship. "..Seve- no. Nine. Ren calls me a hazard, but I don't even know how it happens." Doc said.

The boat sailed on, the ocean much calmer this time around. The sky was clear and it seemed that it was going to be a hot day. Grian sighed and hoped they would get to land soon.

____________

#gridoc #grian x doc #doc x grian #hermitshipping #grian is an angy boi #im still not quite sure what im doing

[unicyclehippo]

autistic kara and dyslexic lena being a power couple is honestly goals af

i was just gonna write some headcanons but

//

it’s cold out, even though it’s well into spring, which kara thinks probably has a lot to do with the whole climate change thing. though it’s a much bigger issue than one oddly chilly evening in early october, she’s kinda pleased about it because it’s been hot—as balls, the tiny alex-voice in her mind adds, helpfully—recently and the wind cools her down as it whips past her, ruffling through sweat-soaked hair and blasting through her clothing.

if eliza could see her now, kara knows she’d be furious. it’s not just because of the fact she’s wearing ripped up jean shorts and her tie-dyed shirt—the fugliest outfit alex has ever laid eyes on, kara has heard from the reliable source of alex herself—and if she hits the bitumen going twenty k’s an hour on her board and pops up without a scratch on her, that might garner a few raised eyebrows; eliza would also be furious with her because of the fact that this evening, at ten fourteen pm when kara ought to have been tucked into her bed—a single bed with soft sheets the colour of a perfect deep-blue sea, underneath the window that looks out to the cliffs—she was in fact on the far side of town having skated out there with her backpack filled with the requisite items to cause a significant amount of property damage. toilet paper, canisters of aerosol paints, glue. the necessary items for this game.

she’s leaving now, after finishing some of her best work, and there is nothing but the cool air, and the sound of her wheels grinding against the bitumen-coated road that unfolds ahead of her under the silver moonlight like a river of shimmering glass.

until there is something: the sound of an engine turning over, being started up, and a flash of headlights like great yellow eyes.

kara zooms past the car, turning to look with interest. she knows this part of town well. it’s quiet, only a few houses on this block, and doesn’t think that the old jeffrey’s couple, who live on the corner, would be out and about at almost midnight, even if it is a saturday evening. it must be whomever moved into the castle, kara reasons, which makes sense as the car is parked under one of the trees that stand by the castle driveway. she peers in the window and sees only a pale face and dark hair until the driver reaches up and switches on the lights, so she can read whatever it is she’s holding—for the driver is a she, a girl of about kara’s age, with long straight dark hair and a long straight nose and keen green eyes.

oh.

she’s looking out the window at kara, and the quick glance that had seemed to stretch on for a long moment now catches up to her. kara feels the front wheels of her board catch on something—a pothole, maybe, or a raised piece of the road where a tree root has started to grow up—and she goes flying. not literally, she’s not all—she can’t fly, that is, that would be ridiculous. she ducks and rolls and, upon standing, finds she hasn’t left even a slight dent on the road. also, she’s fine. how lucky she is. her shorts, she notes with some remorse, are not so lucky and the impact has just about shredded the right thigh. popping up onto her feet, she collects her board and sets her bag properly on her shoulders. and something, something pulls her eyes to the car as kara sets herself back onto her - thankfully not damaged a board.

the girl is watching her, eyes wide in shock. the shock—and worry—eases when kara stands, and when kara grins as wide as she can and gives her a clear thumbs up, she can hear the quiet laugh all the way from across the road. through the glass and the murky night that grows heavy with a chilled mist, the girl gives her a thumbs up in return, and then she turns off the reading light and spins so she is seated comfortably once more, kara apparently cleared from her mind. the engine idles, rumbling away.

kara lingers for a second, watching. but nothing more comes of it and so she pushes off down the road again.

//

she was right. eliza was furious.

‘someone could have seen you,’ she hisses in that controlled way she does when she wants to impress upon kara the fact that they’re all in on this secret together and it is a dangerous one. and she turns it on alex, who she’s dragged out of bed for this, and adds, ‘you should’ve known better, alex.’

‘hey, whoa, how is this my fault?’

‘you should have stopped her,’

‘right, like i could stop her from doing anything,’ alex drawls. kara admires her sister silently, sucking down a carton of some gross breakfast drink eliza had bought for her; alex wouldn’t be able to stop kara physically, that was true, but what she also doesn’t say is that she hasn’t tried to stop her with words either, being that she was too busy encouraging kara and making sure that she had all she needed for the very important job.

‘you,’ eliza says, and from her tight, tired tone it sounds as though she is well aware alex is lying to her in some way, ‘are in trouble. you are grounded.’

‘hey! i was in bed!’

kara hisses her sympathy. eliza whirls on her, dressing gown flapping like a cape around her ankles.

‘you as well! grounded! understood?’ eliza holds firm in the face of pleading eyes and pouting until kara sighs and nods. ‘good.’ she sighs. rubs both hands over her face. ‘i...am going to bed. please, for the love of anything in this world,’ she says, sounding so bitingly tired that kara catches a look of worry on alex’s face, quickly masked. ‘please don’t break anything, please let me sleep in tomorrow morning.’

‘aye aye, captain,’ alex drawls, though there’s considerably less snark in it than she usually musters. ‘c’mon, kara.’ she leads the way up to their room and collapses back onto her bed, yawns mightily. ‘well?’ she demands of kara, despite being obviously tired. ‘how’d it go?’

kara nods.

‘and? you got all the toilet paper around the house?’ she nods again. ‘and the paint?’

kara pulls out her phone, taps a few words in and shows alex a mural she’s always liked. simplistic figures, straight lines.

‘but, rude, right?’ alex asks, and she seems appeased when kara tilts her head side to side and waggles her hand in a so-so gesture. ‘good. oh man, incredible.’

kara thinks about what else she had seen that night—the girl being only part of it—and wonders if a sleepy alex would be able to parse it out from her charades. she suspects not, so she texts it to her sister, fingers typing slowly so as not to splinter the delicate screen.

alex yawns. snuggles into her pillow. eyelids droop as she waits for kara’s text. kara presses send and watches as confusion, then comprehension, then surprise and a fast following shock skitters over alex’s face and her sister rockets up onto her feet.

‘what does this mean? kara, what does this mean?’ she demands, holding out her phone so kara can see her own message clear on the screen.

SAW AN ALIEN CRASH SITE TOO 👽 🛸 ✌️

#prompt fill #sry lena isnt rly in it #think kinda scoobs crew #lol

[doomedandstoned]

Doors To No Where Drop Rowdy Grunge-Punk-Desert Spinner ‘Darkness Falls’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Review by Billy Goate

Before us is the latest record from Santa Cruz heavies DOORS TO NO WHERE, a band new to these pages but which has played alongside many of our favorite West Coast acts, including KooK, Worship, and Year of the Cobra. As May is Mental Health Awareness month, it's good timing to be introduced to 'Darkness Falls' (2021). "This came to me during the pandemic," says frontman Marc Lewis. "I was watching so many folks struggling from all walks of life. Struggle isn’t biased -- it can hit anyone."

The album lyrically was a concept album in a way on the topic of mental health and its impact. I'm truly passionate about this and want it not to be such a taboo thing to talk about or seen as a sign of weakness.

Composed during the pandemic's most clutching moments and recorded with Aaron Cooper of Pylon Productions, the album features longtime collaborators Marc Lewis (guitar, vox), Marc Prefontaine (bass), and Pete Testorff (drums).

"Lie, Lie, Lie," dashes off to a furious Foo Fighters pace as we begin the record, with Pete Testorff's fervor and panache paving the way for Marc Lewis to deliver the three word chorus with all the snarl of a man who just wants to break his rusty chains and run.

"The riff in Lie, Lie, Lie," Marc tells Doomed & Stoned, "was written off something I heard Pete doing one night during sound check. He was playing his whole kit and then doing those snare hits you hear at the beginning of the song."

There's some nice give-and-take between Marc Lewis' guitar and Marc Prefontaine's bass that betwixt the introduction and chorus. I didn't pick it up at first listen, but it definitely grabbed me the next several spins through.

The grungy lyrics match the pissed-off spirit of the music, as the song mourns the loss of a common reference denominator for truth, warning that in its absence there is division, calamity, and ruin. "Together we rise, together we fall." Marc amplifies these powerful moments for us:

This track centers around the idea of false power and how someone could start to believe their own lies and self-hype, while others could fall for it. It can become a toxic relationship or even a cult kind of thing.

It may be hard to remember this far into this surreal "pause" in our world's history, but we too were afraid, alone, and angry for much of the pandemic's wake -- especially in those uncertain early moments when we followed the spread of this strange disease from China to Italy and onto the shores of Seattle and New York.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

The aptly named "Fade" comes next, presenting at a doom's crawl with a sombre arpeggiated motif that summons the spirit of Trouble and Saint Vitus. Or you might hear a twisted, doomed-up variation of Metallica's "Enter The Sandman" in that low-end omen. "Fade was built of the rolling riff and bend," Marc explains. "I wanted it fat and raunchy." Certainly Pale Divine and Dirty Grave come to mind as I seek to match the mood with bands of similar spirit.

Then comes the pained chorus: "Run, run baby," which Marc illuminates in a very personal light:

"Fade" is about a friend of mine who is no longer with us. She was a larger than life personality that was loved by all. She played the personna and role of the happy-go-lucky person. She thought that's why people loved her and why they were friends. She was actually really struggling with mental health and depression though. She would behave in a way that she thought people wanted her to behave, while she was actually suffering. Those around her did not realize her pain or that their influence was making things worse. For years she would self-medicate with drugs and alcohol and that was celebrated by those around her.

I had started to see signs of her pain and tried to reach out. Unfortunately, I was too late. Any time anyone would reach out for help, she would disappear. The chorus line “disappearing one” is a reference to her pushing away and hiding from help. When she passed (sucide) everyone spoke of how special she was and how much they loved her. I was angry and sad. Why didn't more folks try and help her? My perspective was that coddling her addictions and self-medicated escape helped her to the grave.

The lyrics “We all love to see you fade, but don’t you go away” and “We all love to see you soar, but don’t you fade away” are references to the idea that sometimes humans are selfish in their relationships. Meaning that someone may give me the attention and things I need without me being aware of the sacrifices the other person is making.

"Worship The Machine" is another hefty doomer, with some wild guitar noodling contrasted against a rhythm that is quite machine-like as it dances stoically along its predestined chordal path. "Worship The Machine was written to be heavy and groovy," the band notes. "We wanted it to have a certain feel that pushed hard, while still having that chugging along kinda vibe." Closing in on the three-minute mark, Pete turns loose on the drums like a man possessed and the intensity continues when the rest of the band joins in, taking us right across the finish line to a crashing conclusion.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

"I wanna live, but I'm dying" are words I can certainly relate to, not just in 2020, but in 2021, where the lingering impact of such a global (and personal) disruption is still very much a struggle on the daily. Turns out, my intuition was not far from the lyrical intent: "This song is all about the addiction to social media and how it corresponds with one's self esteem, mood, and self-worth. The social media world has become this giant machine and some are literally addicted to it. It creates this tool of status. I think it has truly impacted how people feel about themselves and others."

"Got Mine" is up next and this one is the most punkish track yet. It reminds me a lot of Soundgarden's periodic forays into punk, with songs like "Nazi Driver," "Never Named," and "Kickstand." On this point, Marc is clear: "Got Mine is influenced by the fact that I love old punk rock. I love the energy and the attitude. We wanted it to be loose but with tight stops and control." As to its meaning, we're told:

This song is about a revolution with the main character being selfish and self serving. So the character is done with the revolution or fight once their needs and wants are met. They are not really looking out for the cause or to tackle bigger issues for the good of humanity. They are actually looking for what is best for them. The chorus refers to a cold heart and lack of empathy.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

All you lovers of southern sludge will dig "Policy" with its Goatsnake meets Acid Bath groove and sassy guitar lead. Speaking of Soundgarden, I really dig the Kim Thayilesque breakdown and stinging solo two-minutes in, though some may draw parallels with Crowbar here. These are all, of course, points of reference to try to do the near impossible: put the emotional experience of one listener (e.g. yours truly) into words. In the end, it's up to you to listen and find a favorite of your own. For my money, "Policy" is where it's at. Check out the fantastic dual guitar interplay two-and-a-half minutes in! Down, eat your heart out.

"Policy" is another riff I wrote to play off of a groove I heard Pete do during warm ups. It's got a swing to it but punches hard. Almost a heartbeat if you will. The solo was a direct result of playing the drums.

This track touches on letting toxic people go from your life. At what point do you stop investing in someone's negative energy? Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. It is the idea of surrounding yourself with people that want you to be the best version of yourself.

Up next: "Who Died", which summons all of the band's talents. Beginning with bursts of rapid-fire guitar picking set against a zombie-like beat and chorus, the song has something of a swampy feel. "I won't follow you!" Mr. Lewis shouts defiantly. I wasn't sure where the song would progress from there, and almost thought it was concluded at the false stop barely two-and-a-half minutes in. But the song rallies and the band pulls out its full force, with what sounds like the addition of the synth to present a layered effect that amplifies the intensity. I think this could have been developed even further, but sometimes brevity is the most appropriate option for a song.

"Who Died" was written off the chorus and intro. Zeppelin kinda riff. It's all about feel and giving the riffs room to breathe. This track is about the concept of thinking for yourself and not being an easy victim of mental or physical abuse.

The reverberating echoes of organ-sounding keyboards greet as "New Monster" takes its place next. We get our footing pretty quickly with a kind of "We Will Rock You" bass motif, but the song gets stranger and stranger as the seconds tick off. As with the previous track, there is a sudden atmospheric shift accompanied by furious strumming and ending on the swirling guitar theme we started with.

"Here we are, same ol' thing, round and round, 'ever again...I wanna run, I wanna breathe, I wanna live." This is, for me, perhaps the most relatable song on the record, lyrically speaking. This one especially gave off strong Prong vibes with its strong vocal lead, robust drumming, strong bass play, and industrial guitar feel.

"New Monster" was written in isolation and was originally an acoustic song. Even though the tempo is upbeat it's a dark and murky riff. We wanted the end out of the breakdown to hit hard. I imagine it building like a wave in the ocean.

Another track focusing on mental health with the idea of perseverance and to keep fighting, "New Monster" is the idea of not being perfect is actually perfect. We are all just floating on a giant rock in space and going through this thing called life together.

Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where

At last, we reach the record's namesake "Darkness Falls" -- the gem of this eight-pronged crown of thorns. I've always thought it was a great name. Darkness Falls is also the title of a 2003 movie about a malevolent tooth fairy, though I see no compelling reason to connect the film with either the song or record. I may not be too far off the mark, as Marc Lewis explains:

This concept came to me during the pandemic. I was watching so many folks struggling. All walks of life were struggling. Struggle isn’t biased and can hit anyone. “Please, please shine for me” and “Please, please glow again” reflect on how badly I wanted things to be better. For things to be ok. How I wanted those I love to be happy, safe and loved.

As it stands, Doors To No Where does a superior job of fleshing out the notion of "Darkness Falls" than previous contenders in any medium. The song stirs up a smokey, mysterious Near-Eastern ambience. Four minutes in and it's confirmed: there is indeed a synthesizer at play on Darkness Falls but its hypnotic effect in this song is interrupted by a screaming riffstorm and a gut full of churning bass. This song would make a great companion to "What The Hell Have I" by Alice in Chains. It also pairs well with Portland band A//TAR, whose metaphysical music we've also debuted in these pages.

"Darkness Falls" is special for another reason: Bob Balch of Fu Manchu and Big Scenic Nowhere was a guest on the album closer. "Him and I worked together on the track," Marc reflects. "He is a pro's pro and added so much to the vibe of the song. His playing and tone are phenomenal.

The new album Darkness Falls by Doors To No Where releases to the public on Friday, May 21st via Desert Records (pre-order here). This is its world premiere c/o Doomed and Stoned.

Give ear...

Doors To No Where · DARKNESS FALLS

Some Buzz

Featuring Marc Lewis (Guitars/Vocals), Pete Testorff (Drums) and Marc Prefontaine (Bass). Doors To No Where have been making music since 2010. Their sound is heavily influenced by Santa Cruz and the local beauty it offers along with the rich history of music. Doors To No Where have been called a stoner rock band but also touch on elements of punk, doom, metal and even grunge.

Growing up on a skateboard and surfing has played a huge part on the influences of the sounds Doors To No Where like to include.

The band has toured in and been honored to share the stage with bands like, Mondo Generator, Fatso Jetson, Fu Manchu, The Melvins and many more.

Doors To No Where will be releasing 'Darkness Falls' (2021) via Desert Records on May 21st 2021. The fourth studio album features eight tracks and a special guest appearance from Bob Balch (Fu Manchu). Staying true to their roots, 'Darkness Falls' is a combination of desert rock and punk influences. The band tracked and recorded the album in the unusual quarantine times of Covid-19.

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#D&S Debuts #Doors To No Where #Santa Cruz #California #grunge #desert rock #punk rock #heavy metal #Desert Records #D&S Reviews #Doomed and Stoned

[grim-faux]

9 - Behind his Shadow

The temperature changed.  It was a fickle thing in the massive tunnels that made up the sewer, the warm air clinging to my shoulders while small drafts drifted through my sleeves causing me to shiver.  I remained crouched for several minutes listening keenly for the corridor and the thing through the grate, I’m not sure what I was waiting for.  Or if I was aware that I had been waiting for some time before the small spark of a nerve pulsed up my spine.

I needed to keep moving.  Whatever was there I was either following it or barely staying ahead of it, couldn’t decide which it was.  Either I’d stumble into it or linger too long in one area, and that would inadvertently allow it to reach me before I had time to realize I had been hunted all along.

 I wobbled as I rose to my feet and took some small steps toward the corner of the tunnel, watching the dark shades beyond the large grate with avid caution.  What happened to the person that looked down upon me?  The path on my right was open for exploration.

My nerves were too high strung, in the hollow quiet I startled myself back when my foot broke the surface of the water with a soft swish.  I backed away and rolled my eyes, though my jumpiness couldn’t be discredited.  But still, I was spooked by my own footsteps!

A plate on the wall indicated Administration Block on the right with an arrow to clarify this.  I really didn’t have any options, my only comfort came that this path would not branch out into additional tunnels and I couldn’t possibly get lost down here.  Given, there was a way out and my batteries would last.

Originally I had wanted to pause and wring out the excess water from my coat as best I could, but I didn’t want to stay stationary longer than necessary.  It clung to me like a soggy glove, at least the sewers were warm with decay, only upside here.  It was well received given circumstances.

The tunnel was dim with enough light I didn’t need my camera, I carried it beside my hip for the comfort of it.  The tunnel curved and I followed it into a well-lit channel with large drain pipes beneath the floor, grated over and filled to the brim with thick runoff.  The cooler air settled low, generating a murky steam that clung to everything and swirled around my shoulders as I cut through it.  With no area visible to hide enemies I jogged along taking in the constructive details of the abandon sewer.

It looked like railing was installed along the side, or guardrails for the workers that had to come down when it was flooded.  Support beams ran across the ceiling every few feet, but didn’t seem to help much in preventing cave-ins.  At the end of the channel was another collapse, I was approaching it when a light flittered through blinding me.

A soft voice hummed out, I wasn’t sure if I should retreat now or wait.  He was on the other side of the fallen debris, unless there was an access through on the open tunnel to the right.  The song sounded familiar but against the echoing walls I couldn’t decide if it was ‘Father’ Martin, or one of his disciples.  It didn’t sound like him….

“Till all the lambs in the church of god…”

I couldn’t make out what he was saying at this distance.  He had already taken off, on the other side of the tunnel I saw his light glitter as he ran and his feet chopped up the shallow water.  The song was somehow depressing.  Maybe because of the ‘Father’ Martin’s Gospel of Sand, or maybe seeing the man down searching as I was for his own way out, armed with only a flashlight.

I kept to the left and strained to see through the vapor where he might have gone, the tunnel had a neighboring channel but I didn’t have any ambition to explore that side further.  The forgotten corpse of Murkoffs doctors lay dissolving in the drainage gutter, even from where I stood I could pick up the heavy fumes of his bloated body. 

A door waited innocently at my backside.  I tried the handle half expecting it to be broken or locked, but the knob gave with no effort and I entered to find a patient hidden behind a shelf near the back.  I must’ve looked shocked by his presence as he held up his arms and backed away.

“You don’t have to be scared of me.  I can tell we’re the same.  You still know what’s real.”

I stepped out of the room to glance around and return my eyes to the patient, before reentering and shutting the door behind.  This was the first human in this place to actually comfort me, and not sound creepy about it.  First person to attempt a conversation with me.

“Do you mind if I film you?” I held up my camera, keeping my distance.

“Not at all.  Go ahead.  I’d actually prefer it.”  I raised the camera and zoomed in on him framing his head and shoulders nicely.  He looked no different from the dozens of unaccounted victims, his face ruined by malpractice, scars up and down his arms.  But he was fully clothed.

“The doctor’s dead, you know that, right?  Dr. Wernicke.”  I nodded.  “Died before he even started working here.”  He pinched the bridge of what remained of his nose between his fingers as though recalling some detail, or harmed by the recollections.  “What kind of experiments does a dead doctor perform on living patients?  That’s the question.”

“I found the obituary.”

“Yeah.”  To me it sounded like he didn’t credit this fact too much.  “A few of us have seen it too, a little proof he’s never been here.”  He glanced at the shelf beside him and ran a finger along its metal support.  “Doesn’t change what he’s done.”

“But…he’s dead, isn’t he?  It’s on file.”  My breath hitched when he gave me a venomous look, but it dissolved and he turned away toward a mattress abandoned on the floor behind him.  He curled up on its filthy surface and turned his back to me.

The interview was over.

“The Patients know Dr. Wernicke is dead.  One asks me, ‘What kind of experiments does a dead doctor perform on living patients?’  What is PROJECT WALRIDER?”

I examined the room lightly without disturbing him, and always kept my attention trained to any sort of sound he would make, pausing when his breathing wheezed or the broken springs of the mattress shifted.  There was no visible aid, aside from some cracked shelving and a vent that might’ve led to better venues - I couldn’t reach it.  There was only a ladder in the center of the floor leading down a short ways.  I secured the camera and climbed the rungs, that familiar scent of copper whirled around me and I anticipated what would meet me.

The sewage in the drain gutter was a soft rose color, the sharp scent of death thick in the humid tunnel.  It was fresh otherwise it would have diluted out by now.  All the screaming I’d heard in the upper level?

I shivered as I pulled up the camera but decided not to film, instead I held it between my palms and stared into the water.  What was PROJECT WALRIDER? kept ringing through my thoughts.  What was the screaming I heard?  What happened to those people?  It could’ve been Chris Walker.  Maybe I misheard them, others had expressed fears in his violent tendencies, I must’ve misheard them.  But I couldn’t stop shaking.  My coat was damp and cool, my nerves were shot.  I needed to keep moving, keep my mind focused on what was around me.

Across from my position a plate was fixed on the wall that labeled the contrary directions to take, the Male ward to the left and the Female ward to the right.  I glanced down at the river of swirling red before I set my foot on the side of the gutter and teetered, beside a metal gate.  The Male ward was where I needed to be, I think.  I wasn’t sure anymore, I could’ve as easily headed to the right if I thought there was a way out through the Female section but…I didn’t want to see what that area had to offer. I didn’t want—

A body flopped down from above nearly on top of me.  I pivoted sloshing through the metallic froth back to the direction where the Female ward was, only to turn the bend and find a solid metal gate.  I wasn’t satisfied to turn back yet, not until I took the handle and fought to turn it.  The latch was solid, my only course obvious.

I switched between breathing through my mouth or through my nose, the stench sought my senses no matter what, I could hardly bear it.  Halfheartedly I attempted to walk on the side of the drainage gutter out of the liquid, if only to settle my conscience.  The body that impacted the cement looked torn and twisted in bizarre ways and his arm looked infected, possibly blood poisoning but I was no doctor.  I couldn’t tell if he was this mangled before he fell, or whatever killed him had maimed him.

I was better off never knowing.

As I passed under the huge drain he fell from, I could see the grate above had been removed and the bright light from the upper floors descended unrestrained.  Light was still my enemy, but it was hard not to take comfort in its strong brilliance.

I checked the charge on my camera as I continued into the darker portions of the tunnel, stunned to find it nearly half dead.  That was a good battery, I had seen it when I put it in.  Or wasn’t it?  I wasn’t sure.  But if I needed my night vision down here for prolonged periods at a time, it might be on its lowest functions.

It must’ve been the chill.  The cold had a tendency to drain battery life fast.  But, no…the sewers were at times stifling, almost unbearably so in my damp coat.

The cadence of gushing water traveled around the next corner, elevating my anxiety further.  The fore sound could cloak a stew of early warnings from feet to voices, or other unnamed things.  I squatted behind some waterlogged crates stacked at the edge, and glanced over them when I saw red splatters.  Slowly I eased around the side and peered into a foggy tunnel muddled by failing lights, but enough visibility was there to utilize the zoom on my camera.  I couldn’t make out movement, even with the running water dividing my attention.  A new scene of horror awaited me.

I slipped around the boxes keeping low, and moved to the opposite side of the channel in an effort to avoid further soaking.  Water spewed from a broken water valve of a large pipe connected between the floor and ceiling, I didn’t bother to check it as my eyes focused on the red splattered on the walls and floor.  It looked like someone had been straining chunky human pieces from the large drainage pipes in the ceiling, the sides splattered with bright globs of black and red.  It was all spilling from the rim of the gutter into the water staining it the crimson hue.  Beneath the surface I could view small fish like things squirming about, as persistent as the flies burrowing into soggy guts or body parts.

I closed my eyes and swallowed, I could feel myself shaking harder as I lowered my arms beside me.  This nightmare looked recent, it smelled fresh and raw.  I had memories as a kid, being with my dad at the local butchers as he cut up the hindquarters of a hog.  This reminded me sharply of that.  Of all those times.

Maybe after this I’d turn vegan.  I never was a big fan of steak.

There was no end to it as I moved through the tunnel, blood was stained up the walls, and pieces of inner organs left strew over pipes and crates lining the gutter.  Each drain I passed under had blood running down its interior, more innards, or large sheets of skin imbedded with bone.  A leg bobbing in the drain still had blood seeping from the stump, as the little black sewer guppies thrashed into their meal.

Finally, a full human body was laid dead in the bend of the tunnel.  I didn’t care to identify his death, I continued and placed myself on the side of the gutter.  The channel darkened and a cold draft crept through my coat, I was forced to use the camera to keep from stumbling on the slick sides.

Something hissed ahead of me.  I sighed irritated by how jumpy I was, given I was still alone, it was just a pipe—

A thick splash sent cold beads of water through the bars.  I retreated a few steps and gazed through the visor, seeing nothing but a sturdy grate where the movement had occurred.  The bloated body of a Murkoff researcher was crammed against the bars, some of the skin exposed at his neck and face had been disturbed by the sudden kick in the water and floated freely from the muscles of his skull.  Above, or around me there was that same sound, ball bearings rattling through pipes.  I turned my camera filming wherever I thought the sound twittered though there was nothing to see, the noise sent shivers up my spin.  Or it could’ve been the sudden chill locked in the stale air.  Couldn’t stop here.

Need to keep moving.  Had to escape.  Thoughts of Chris and what he could do to me vanished completely with the presence of this ‘unknown.’  I wasn’t sure what I was running from, only that I somehow kept out of its line of sight.  Dumb luck.

I entered an intersecting tunnel on my right but drew back, there was light ahead but the sounds were still present, sounded like it had filtered out of the pipe and was now crashing around behind the door in the tunnels side.  The uproar grew in volume as whatever tore the room apart, shelves cracked as all manner of furniture was flung about.  The metal barrier quivered and my breath came labored, I wasn’t sure if I was actually experiencing this.  How did it get from here to that room?

I took small steps forward, before springing away for no real reason other than my fear of the sounds and I recalled the slaughter.  I could almost hear it now, shrieking voices of the deranged as skin was peeled back and bones cracked.  Then all at once everything ceased and silence saturated the calm tunnel.

It felt like I was in some sort of danger, though no visible evidence was present to suggest this notion.  The air was filled with the metallic reek and rot of old sludge, I could almost pick up the soft warble of water spilling down cobblestone.  I felt my heart sank as I realized it could just as easily be blood spilling from a ruined neck.

I debated trying the handle to see what was in there.  The highest probability would be its displeasure with the intrusion, followed by my abrupt death.  In the dark red liquid of the gutter I could see the drains grate was removed from the wall, a possible means to get away from this area.  For a moment I couldn’t move, my eyes flashed to the silent door with its unassuming threat.

Quickly I zipped along the far side of the wall across from the door and gently stepped into the rosy liquid, there was no sound as I shuffled along in the cramped space in the dark. I choked on that thick oil reek as I felt about, feeling light headed with the sudden collision.  My camera was also getting low on power, but I insisted on using every last bit of what it had.  I still only had two more batteries, and one I was certain was on half power.  My leg stung as I bore my grungy pants into the wounds with the chilled water, I shifted my weight and adjusted the camera in my hand before I could fall over.  This drain lacked the curving edges I could rest my hand upon to keep my balance, as it was I could barely keep my knees and lower edges of my coat dry.  I felt an immediate difference in temperature the moment I entered, the air was cold and calm causing my shoulders to ache as I trembled uncontrollably.

The small tunnel felt near endless in the consuming black, the edges of the green night vision made it more oppressive than should be possible.  What was only mere seconds felt like ages, until I reached a fork.  I attempted the one side that curved left, only to find it dead end at a sturdy grate.  Returning to the original route, I made certain where I was headed before trying the other side.

When the patients came down here earlier, they might have removed some of these grates together for shorter routes.  As long as the path was open, I was obligated to take it.  Every wrong turn wasted battery life and I attempted to conserve the energy by switching the NV off whenever possible, but in the black slate of nothing I felt the patient approach of something deadly.

I crawled out into a small room, a pump station.  It was drained, perhaps by the patients that came through or what was left of the staff still surviving this madness.  Some crates sat stacked in the diluted blood channel, and large pipes bore down through the grates upon which I stood, separating me from a nasty swim.  The thick fumes of oil and gas filled my lungs and the water I stood in had that translucent, iridescent sheen of chemical residue. Neglected machinery, yet still worked long after abandonment. Some miracle.

I put the camera away, with such nice lighting I just should.  The rail ahead was within arm reach if I jumped, and climbed over rather struggle between the bars.  A set of shelves at the opposite side of the room were loaded with tools and parts, and some cans of oil.  Two doors on either wall indicated the only options out of this room, if they were unlocked.

I tried the one nearest to me set on the solid cement floor, its appearance almost pleasant against the cold brick.  Behind the door was a wall of black, which would take me somewhere worthwhile I decided that instant.  The air within felt sharp and chilled, unlike the humid sewers.

The other door may have accessed the room I was locked from, as with it something dangerous and incomprehensible.  I doubted it, but decided not to risk it.  Strange shuffling and scratching sounds came from the other side, I had no wish to meet its gaze and learn its nature.  I slipped into the dark chill of the next channel, and shut the door.

Best leave some mysteries, my sick curiosity was going to be the death of me.

I was upon a high grated walkway, without the night vision I could feel the danger press close into me.  Decay, mildew, and every manner of disease.  My finger with the missing nail was in a good deal of pain, easily ignored but a frequent reminder whenever I fumbled with the cameras operations.

The path to my right was loaded with boxes, a precarious place to climb for a view if they gave out and I fell into god knows what below.  When I checked over the side I could make out the walls of metal sheeting gapped for water flow and ruined by corrosion of the mountains natural minerals, the oily water rippled with garbage from the main ward.  I was vaguely reminded of Star Wars, and half expected some unknown monster lurking in the depths to coil about my leg and drag me downwards to jaws lined with thousands of tiny teeth.

I laughed at this.  My laughter echoing off the great expanse of this chamber, deep into the dark, lost in this hell hole.  Somewhere out there a patient was laughing with me.  I swore I could hear him.

Or maybe that was my echo.

My knees gave out and I slumped to them lowering the camera beside me, but never letting go of it.  I laughed until my sides ached and I tasted that copper residue in my mouth once more.  I had fallen to deep chuckles before I started to cough on the foul air, then I flopped to my good side and lay there snickering quietly to myself on the frigid bridge.

What an idiot I was coming to this place!  “The story that breaks these bastards.”  Weren’t those my exact words?  Don’t quote me on that.  Looks like I got what I was looking for, fuckin’ story of the century, and Murkoff’s crushing demise.  They looked pretty broken to me, but maybe I wasn’t squinting right.  I should get that in fine print, signed by Dr. Wernicke himself.  Oh the irony he died before this place flipped its lid.

I waited till I had control again before attempting to rise, I didn’t need to buckle over the rail and make a graceless swan dive.

The path going left looked clear, but the rail was shattered to some distance.  With no better option I bit down on my reservations and dropped into the water, prepared for the jolt though not taking it as well as I had hoped.  I murmured to myself as my sides settled and I continued, camera held near my face as I waded through chest deep water.  It had the sharp rust smell, that was more metallic than blood, the pipes around here were made of zinc I thought.  Probably wrong, I wasn’t a plumber and I wouldn’t tell one how to do his job before I researched it.

I stopped and listened when I heard something that sounded like hissing, or grinding.  The way echoes twisted between the distant walls….maybe it was shrieking?  Maybe I was shrieking and wasn’t aware of it.

To reassure myself I touched my lips with my hand, never once considering how filthy my fingers were after I had been crawling down in the gutters.  In about five minutes it would come back to me.  I took a shaky breath to smooth my frayed nerves but it didn’t help at all.  I tried not to bite down on my tongue to prevent my teeth from chattering, in the event something did surprise me, I’d wind up biting off my tongue.

In the dark a shape flittered by, startling me back a step.  I gazed at it until my eyes told my brain what it was, just a scrap of blanket from somewhere.  I hated this place.  It was obvious by now.

I searched around the small channel, not sure what to make of this area.  I decided not to worry about it.  There were large grates, massive, separating this area from the channels I might have viewed or come through.  There was no way into them.  I hurried my movement, struggling to build a mental map of where I was going and prevent wasting the battery by getting turned around.  The chamber was extending beyond the dividing sections and cement walls far spread enabling me from following one side without losing too much power in the process.  I ventured into a small area open by a tear in the steel mesh, but found nothing other than a cluster of crates and some magazines that dissolved around my coat.

My battery was done, and I was forced to change it out.  The next one was full power, good to get me out of here.  Just had to find somewhere to get too.

When I returned to the area I had just left, I noted a stack of crates beneath a broken rail.  It’s connector.  I climbed the crates and dragged myself up onto the path, or what was left of it.  A few steps and I was already splashing below in the next channel, wading along with water bubbling into my coat.  I supposed I was looking for ways to get up and walk on these broken paths to reach a door or ladder, anyway to get out of here.  Good plan.  I had a good sense of direction on me, so long as I didn’t overthink which way I was facing.  If I memorized where I came from and kept my back to the drop or path, then I could navigate across the murky waters with a good mind where the next catwalk would appear.

As I was moving the same clatter of pellets in a pipe twittered off the fences and walls.  I checked the ceilings and zoomed to locate large pipes hung above, it was difficult to follow a direction consistently.  I also wasn’t certain if I wanted to follow that eerie sound, I was trying to keep avoid it.

After walking halfway around the small pool I located the grated steps leading up to my next pathway.  One way was the broken remains of the metal bridge, the other took a sharp right.  I walked along, wrenching back when a form came into view.  Just a cold body slumped on the rail, I lowered the camera to rub my face with my hand.  When I pulled my hand back I held it out straight and viewed it through the NV feed of the visor.  My hand was trembling like an addict suffering heavy withdrawals.  I didn’t feel frightened here despite the odd sounds and the lurking threat, I was just cold.  It was very cold and I was trembling.

I turned the camera back on the patient.  It was a rather odd place to die, I gave the corpse plenty of space as I passed.  The small detail that I was viewing murdered patients in the sewers was not missed, it could mean a number of things.  They were lost down here due to ‘Father’ Martins guidance, and the big fucker had found them.  Or, the remaining survivors of the staff had retreated down here, and were defending themselves from the variants.  While the latter speculation seemed the most plausible, I doubted it.  I had already accepted that everyone affiliated with Murkoff for whatever reason, had been killed.  And nothing could change that.

The catwalk came to its inevitable end, and I was certain I heard something glide through the liquid below.  It was only fair to note that at this point I was disturbed, and I couldn’t tell if my mind was playing tricks on me or if there was really something lurking below in the untold depths.

Star Wars.

The water swirled about me when I plopped in, and I took a moment to check the power on the battery before continuing.  I was stunned to find it half done.  What was this?  I found these batteries abandoned throughout this place, had they lost most of their juice exposed the way they were?

For now it would hold, I’d worry over it later.  Probably when it was too late.

I swore I felt the water ripple around my chest.  Maybe my movement caused ripples that returned to me.  Echo ripples?  Seemed logical. I needed to get out of here before something did drag me under and drowned me.  I kept walking, careful steps and slow movements, try not to disturb the surface too much.  The silence grew thunderous as my heart pumped in my chest, I was completely and totally alone here in this channel.

The water burst in front of me spraying the camera as with my face with an icy sheet, it successfully spooked me into a full retreat.  It was nothing I assured, after I had calmed myself and gawked back at the burbling surface.  There was nothing there, no one in the water.  Just…something from the ceiling.  Worn brick, or that nasty shit.  Fuck, a decapitated head, none of those things could consciously hurt me.

Another walkway curved overhead to the right, it felt like I had gone in a complete circle only because I didn’t trust the stability of some boxes.  I could see no boxes from where I was stationed below.  I grunted and hauled myself up, bringing the camera back to my face as I took the path.  A few feet and I found an innocent looking door to my left, the slim crawl of light at the bottom crack.  The hinges stuck and creaked as forced it open, only to meet a despairing sight.

The room was empty aside from a bare utility shelf, some plywood, and a man slumped in the furthest corner.  A thin black puddle had formed under him, indicating an advanced post mortem state.  At his hand was a wrinkled notepad suffering water damage, and the remains of a brown crayon.

I gave the body a distrustful glare before I stepped forward and took up the pad.  The writing was mostly eligible, only because crayon was waterproof, but it had not taken well to wet paper I surmised.

“Already weak, cold.  It’s still bleeding but it doesn’t hurt anymore and I almost have quiet.  I can’t hear the Walrider anymore.  Maybe the therapy is wearing off, I can’t remember the dreams.  Said I could earn my release from this place by submitting to the therapy.  Lies.  Of course they were lying.  It was not therapy.  We were sacrificed to conjure a demon.  Please, let there be no more dreams.  The only hel….”

Out of habit I flipped the page over to see if there was more, but the writing had a thick crescent mark trailing off the unfinished word.

I returned my gaze to the dead man.  One patient had said there were no experiments, but rituals, and had called it a ‘conjuring.’  What exactly did the experiments for Project Walrider entail?

But who did this man refer to?  Murkoff, or ‘Father’ Martin.  ”Accept the Gospel, and all doors will open”’  What was the therapy he referred to?  The mutilation each patient bore?  Too many new questions, not enough answers.  Even the authentic documents Murkoff published made little more sense than the patients statements.

I recorded the note, doubting even with the descent light of the room that it would be eligible, but I went ahead and tore off the page and folded it up to slip into my notebook.  My coat wasn’t waterproof, but the pocket I kept perishable items in was lined with a water repellent material that kept them safe.  A bit of liquid did seep through the zipper, but it was more than my body could say.

I shut the door and resumed on the walkway, only to find its sudden end.  I splashed into another channel coughing at the odd shift in my ribs, it didn’t hurt but tickled more like I had a mild cough.  I waded around the perimeter but located no visible way to exit here, nor an overhead path.  Off on the side I climbed out on a wide drainage chute to take a moment and exchange out the battery.  For a moment I listened to the water drip off my coat and trickle into the large body below, aside from this the chamber was total silence, even the rattle of needles had faded away leaving the echoing vibrations of the solitary water rippling against metal sheeting.

The battery was a half dead one as well.  Might as well use it while things felt calm, I’d have to tread cautiously and maybe give this one up early if I wandered near danger.  Though, the way my batteries were dying, it seemed inevitable that I would change it soon.

With no visible exit here, I decided to backtrack. I must have missed something.  An opening probably, skipped in the poor NV quality.  Excuses, excuses.  I chided myself for being so careless, even distracted as I was I needed to pay attention to my surroundings or I wouldn’t survive much longer.  I shuddered at the thought as I slipped into the cold channel.  It was just cold.

I returned to the previous pool, before had I climbed up into the catwalk with the dead patient.  I scoured the perimeter over wasting precious battery life, before I decided to climb that damn drainage chute with the grate.  I had missed a small opening in the side, looked like someone had kicked it out with fire.  I crawled into the next channel, chamber, flow - whatever, and stepped down into water that was not quite as deep.  It was freezing though, I was shaking so hard the images of the visor were not clear enough to see until I had paused to get my quakes under control.

Felt like my knees were numb, but it did ease the pain in my chest.  I was going to be a female before the end of this.  Damn.

I tried along the outer wall locating all the discarded papers, folders, cans, and cardboard.  My pulse quickened and I was trembling harder than before, I found out why as I turned the camera.  Rotted decapitated heads floating at the sides.  I could see the heads due to the eyes, eyes always glowed.  I hated that.  Somehow my peripheral vision had picked up on them before I consciously realized it, the notion itself elicited a tiny moan from me.  Across the channel I could zoom on the camera and locate more heads balanced on crates staring with vacant expressions across the black expanse.  I shut my eyes and looked away.

There was a sound.  Someone screaming, most likely.  I continued, bumping a few items that became water logged and sunk.  Bodies floated after some time.  Eerie thought right there.  I wasn’t paying enough attention at the moment, couldn’t bring myself to focus on where I was going.  A small knot had buried into my spine like an obnoxious ache, but it felt more like stress and the cold twisting my nerves. 

When I finally staggered in the water nearly dropping the camera I looked out, revaluating my position.  A few large pillars supported what must’ve been the upper floor.  There was a way out, somewhere to climb up on and get a better view of my surroundings.

Movement.  Ripples.  They could have been mine, but they traveled from the opposite side of the room far from walls, that I could tell.  Something solid was down here with me.

I shuffled near the curving wall carefully, taking small steps as I turned the camera in gradual sweeps and zoomed in.  Trying to find what, before it found me.  I drew too near to it and picked up the dull clink of chains, and the rather aggressively way the water broke.

Chris Walker.  Down here!  Damn it, if there was no way out!

But as I turned the camera, up in the ceiling there beamed a light from some sort of opening.  It meant nothing, probably from where the big fucker crashed in from.  But it was my only chance.  It was more than what I’d found so far.

I hid behind a stack of crates and peered out, as his eyes glimmered phantom like in the NV mode.  Just beyond him I could make out a set of steps leading up, and a walkway.  That was something, and the light source right there, it could have been where Chris plunged in from.

What was he doing down here?  Lost?  I didn’t care, it would be a nice change of pace if he was stuck.  I doubted his fate would end in a place like this, he wouldn’t rest until he saw me dead.

“Stacked neatly side by side,” he hummed, taking a turn and wandering a ways from my position.

I zoomed out, heading in the general direction I had seen the steps.  “Too good at what I do.”  He must’ve been lost in recollections of his past, or a session with the doctors.  It kept him distracted and that was good.  “Someone’s here.”  Not nearly enough.

The rings were getting smaller as he closed in on me, I was barely climbing the steps when the power in my battery began to fade.  Fuck, what bad timing!  I bolted up the steps rather bother with it.  Chris gave a sharp snarl when he must have seen my form in the faint light.  I ran, not realizing the path ended before I nearly bolted off the broken walkway into open air.

There was a ladder that would’ve extended down to the bridge, if it was still intact.  The lower portion of it and much of the catwalk was torn to shreds and dumped in the water below.

I felt the vibrations of the big fucker as he stormed up behind me.

I jumped down into the water and wadded away.  He did much of the same, only he seemed to have an easier time charging through the froth after me.  My camera was depleted, but it did punch a small hole of perception in what was otherwise a black wall.  I was in a mad hobble to keep out of his grip, and he was catching up.

A very insignificant memory came back to me, way back from my child hood.  When the kids in my old neighborhood got together Saturday nights to play outdoor games, like kids my age used to do many moons ago, we would often play tag.  I had many fond memories of being it, and not being it.  Sometimes we got bored and would antagonize the tagger, so we could run.  No one liked trying to tag me much, I was good at getting away.  But if ever I was in a jam and close to getting caught, I had a very unique way of eluding my pursuer.

With Chris close at my back, I managed several long strides in the impeding water and leapt forward, twisting in midair and coming down so I faced the opposite way I was headed.  Albeit, it was sluggish in the water, I shoved off glancing by Chris as he fought to jerk about.

The back of his arm slammed into my lower hip as he fell, a loud yowl expelled from my throat as the chains multiplied the pain by six.  I stumbled but recovered quickly, adrenaline pumped through my veins as I made it back, guided only by the poor light of the night vision.

“You had your chance!”

I could hear him stagger upright and resume the chase.  The metal steps were a few feet off but I redirected myself and took them three at a time, never mind the throb building in my hip.  Never mind any of that shit, I wouldn’t have another go at this if I fell.

I stuffed the camera strap between my teeth before I lunged forward, relying on my meek sight alone and the faulty light to identify the ladders bars glinting in the fog.  I hit them with a muffle grunt, my boots slipping through the space and I swung backwards barely catching the rungs with my feet splayed against them.  When I hit the lower side with my back, holy hell, the bolt of pain shot up my shoulder blades and numbed a spot in my tongue.  Somehow I never lost my grip on the camera, probably because I had bitten hard into the strap due to the shock.  Dumbfounded, I hung there as Chris thundered across the bridge with a murderous growl.  I registered his intentions with enough time to jerk myself up, as he leapt slashing at my shoulder.

Complete silence.

I imagined Chris Walker falling forever into a dark void, or well.  A poisoned well, before he splashed at the very bottom.  My abdomen began to ache, and I was forced to haul myself up and climb the ladder the rest of the way.  Below, he snarled with fury and maybe promised next time would be different, before he broke off into mad cackles that sounded a little too feminine to be MY big ugly fucker.

I was delirious by the time I reached the top of the ladder, my body sort of oozed out onto the icy concrete floor and I rolled away from that large gaping hole.  Away from danger, away from that wicked monster.  I curled myself up beside some shelving and lay there, clutching the camera to my chest.  A dull throb pulsed up my side and a unbearable warmth seeped through my lower thigh, I fumbled for my wet pants leg trying to decide if I was bleeding but it was impossible to tell.  I probably shouldn’t be clutching my only light source to my wet coat, but my brain wasn’t registering the warning at this time.  It felt like everything was spinning, the dull beige room I lay in was whirling and twisting, I felt my eyes roll back under their lids as I tried to follow the motion.

I thought I heard someone crying, but it wasn’t me.  Fuck that.  I rolled off my side and looked over at a man in a chair.

Beware men in chairs.

For a long time I stared at him and I think, he stared right back.  His face looked like it was infected, or a bees nest had made a home in his brain.

Miles.  Up.  Get up Miles.  Walk it up.

I don’t really want to.  But I made the effort, slipping my hands under me and pushing off the dusty ground.  A small whine escaped me as I pushed, literally dragging myself to my feet.  Once I was standing, I moved towards the open door.  A familiar sort of door, I couldn’t recall where I had seen doors like this.

I managed to reach the doorway before I dropped.  A moment, I needed a moment.  Just a short span of time in the quiet, away from the screaming and the oppressive death, and the dangers.  Just give me five minutes to get my shit together and get up.  As I sank heavily to my side I exhaled a sharp breath scattering the dust near my face, my forehead thudded with pain as the warmth subsided in my calm state.  I’m not sure if I was on my good side or if I had a good side anymore, perhaps a more favorable position to lie in?  I couldn’t sleep here, but I couldn’t resist either.  I wouldn’t sleep.  I would not sleep.  Wouldn’t sleep.

The soft shuffle of feet interrupted my coaxing.  I turned my head just enough over my shoulder to see the man from the chair approach me.  I did my best to glare at him, or to not look terrified before I blacked out.

#miles upshure #outlast #outlast fanfiction #outlast novelized