#this is from ‘i haven’t actually exercised since before i started smoking heavily’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years

Text

General Hux x Female Reader/Kylo Ren x Female Reader

A/N: I literally kicked this out this morning, and I am posting it now before I change my mind. Bring in the Knights… I clearly woke up this morning and chose violence.

Warnings: alcohol, poison, blood, torture, Hux and Kylo finally work together, minor character death. Not a pretty chapter at all.

Word Count: 3530

Read Chapter 12 here on AO3.

Start from Chapter 1 here.

The ride in Kylo’s Command Shuttle was quiet, just the sound of the pilots communicating, a few troopers lounged in the seats behind you and you could feel their gazes upon the back of your neck. Your brain was fried, only a few hours ago you had woken up fully dressed and alone in Kylo’s bed. He hadn’t spoken much, letting you eat breakfast in comfortable silence while he scrolled through a datapad before announcing his business was concluded here and he was withdrawing the fleet from Canto. The unasked question of whether you were coming hung in the air and you chose to ignore it, getting up and dutifully following him to the ship. You were sad to see the beautiful place fall away, maybe once the war was over you could come back. Visions of returning with your arm linked with Hux’s made you smile a little but when they flickered out of existence and were replaced with your arm in Kylo's, your composure slipped.

The shuttle alighted smoothly in the main hangar, the refiltered air filling your lungs and you already missed the freshness of being planet side. It didn’t surprise you that Mitaka was ready and waiting to bring Kylo up to date on the latest, leaving you with a single trooper to escort you to Hux’s quarters.

The ever unchanging silence curled around you, filtering into the cracks of your damaged soul and expanding. Making an ache start in your chest, one you couldn’t suppress until your soft cries pierced the quiet. You had thought long and hard over Hux’s abrupt change in behaviour, bringing you to the conclusion that he was hating himself for opening up to you. For allowing so much of himself to be exposed in one go, so now he was clamming up and pushing you away. It didn’t hurt any less but you supposed it would be like this, one step forward and two steps back. You expelled a long breath thinking it was a dance you were committed to, no matter the outcome.

You had a quick shower, putting on a nightgown and robe now you were once again governed by the day cycle of the ship. You didn’t expect to see Hux tonight so you opened a bottle from the restocked cooler, pouring the clear liquid over a couple of rocks of ice before settling on the couch and picking up the datapad to read the manuscript you were invested in but you couldn’t focus. The words blurred into one on the screen and the alcohol made everything hazy. Your heart jolted when the door opened and you heaved yourself off the couch in surprise, clutching the arm to hold you up as the room spun slightly.

“Armitage,” you mumbled in surprise. “I didn’t…I wasn’t expecting to see you….today—night?” You frowned at your own nonsense. This wasn’t how you wanted him to see you, not now, not when he possibly needed you.

“In all honesty I wasn’t sure you’d be here.” He replied. He carefully put his hat on the table, slowly followed by his gloves and then his coat which he hung on the back of the chair. You watched him approach the cooler, his slender fingers wrapping around the bottle and looking at the label.

“Did you finish work? Are you staying?” Your tongue felt thick, your body was at a fever pitch and you stumbled when you tried to head in his direction.

“Armitage…” you lifted your hand trying to focus on it but your vision blurred. “I can’t…see.”

“What?” His response was whip sharp and you winced against the sudden pounding on your head. You cried out as your legs gave way, collapsing to the floor in a heap. Your vision swam, your breaths were laboured and a tingling sensation was racing over your body. In the dark corner of your mind you realise this wasn’t just too much to drink. You heard him call your name but you were sinking, not able to hold onto him, everything was melting before you. Disappearing into a cloud of black smoke and you couldn’t find your way out.

Hux watched Ren pace up and down the small area outside your private room. Actually it was a medical room set aside for the Supreme Leader, he’d had you directed there when he saw the urgent message for a medic to Hux’s quarters. Every footfall that sounded from the large man set Hux’s teeth on edge but he bit back a rebuke. The force user hadn’t lashed out yet and Hux wasn’t going to give him an excuse. Hux also wondered why he was here, the fleet was chasing down a lead on a new possible Resistance base so surely his attention would be better elsewhere than on Hux’s wife. Both men looked up as the door opened and a Dr came out, his face was grave and Hux felt the blood freeze in his veins.

“Supreme Leader, General. She has been poisoned.” Hux had already deduced that fact and he felt a flash of annoyance that this was being repeated back to him.

“What else?” He demanded abruptly.

“I’ve had to put her in a medically induced coma so her body can recover, it seems there is some damage to her internal organs and…” he swallowed nervously as the two most dangerous men stood glaring at him. “It seems this is one poison we haven’t encountered before.”

“Just put her in a bacta tank,” snipped Hux, not understanding why they were wasting time telling him this.

“They can’t,” rumbled Kylo. Hux frowned, hating the extra insight he had.

“Why not?” He could feel his temper slipping, his teeth clenching together as he glared at the doctor wanting him to answer and not Ren.

“The poison seems to have some bacta resistant qualities….” The floor rolled under Hux and he swayed slightly, if they couldn’t find an antidote the poison would keep eating away at you until your body gave up. “I seem to have slowed the effects, by keeping her body cold and slowing the blood flow but we need an antidote within the week, she won’t be able to stay in this state for long without accruing serious deficits.” Hux wanted to double over, he wanted to accept the pain that erupted from his centre and scream at the floor, but he didn’t. He wanted to barge past the doctor and hold you in his arms, he wanted to rip through his ship and shoot his own troops in the face if they so much as looked at him wrong. It wasn’t until Kylo removed his hand from Hux’s elbow that he realised the Supreme Leader had been holding him upright.

Hux’s feet finally became unstuck from the floor and he moved into the room, his heart in his mouth as he looked at you on the bed. The chill blankets glowed a soft blue colour, a tube was down your throat helping you breathe. Sensors were placed across your forehead and he felt the rage bubble up inside him, who would poison you? Why would someone do this? He also wanted to yell at you for drinking out of a bottle that clearly wasn’t First Order approved, which meant someone planted it and they were still in the ship.

“I’ve already got the Knights tearing through the ship.” Hux resisted rolling his eyes and chose to frown instead.

“Is that wise Ren?”

“Do you want them found?” He snarled, stepping up to the other side of your bed. Hux studied the feral look in his eye, the tenseness of his posture and the hatred that flared in his expression, until his gaze slid to you. His hand rose as though to touch you but thought better of it, curling his leather covered hand into a fist. His expression softened for a moment before looking back up at Hux. “I will let you know if we find anything.”

“Shouldn’t I be there?” Hux asked, not happy to be pushed out of such an investigation of his own personnel.

“Maybe you should stay here and be with your wife,” mumurmed Kylo.

“She’s in a coma. She doesn’t even know what day of the week it is, let alone if I’m here or not.” He couldn’t sit here staring at you, seeing how helpless and weak you were. He wouldn’t be able to sit and watch you waste away before him without doing something to try and stop this.

“Fine.” Hux moved to follow the Supreme Leader out of the room, his fingers flexing and a little ripple of anticipation ran down his spine. It had been a while since he got his hands dirty.

He couldn’t explain it, the way this trooper’s screams fed something twisted inside him. He leaned heavily against the wall of the interrogation room, sweet collected on his upper lip and he swept his damp hair off his brow in a fluid motion. Ren had shed his tunic, his corded muscles bulged, his pale skin flushed as he stretched an arm towards the man kneeling on the floor. Fresh screams erupted from the bound trooper and Hux momentarily closed his eyes as if basking in the sound.

A part of him recoiled at the unwavering way Ren ploughed through people's minds, he showed no mercy and Hux felt a stab of jealousy that Ren himself was clearly going to all this trouble for you. Hux had been told you had breakfast on a private balcony with the Supreme Leader, leaving in a hurry and then you were seen heading to his private room on Canto Bight. Hux wasn’t an idiot, but he had hoped you wouldn’t have stabbed him in the back so early on.

“Ren, stop.” Hux managed to say as the trooper’s heart rate spiked off the charts and the man fell with a clatter to the floor. “Anything?” Hux winced, his voice sounded loud against his tender ears. Kylo rolled his shoulders, sweeping his dripping hair away from his face before shaking his head once. It had been two days, two full days and night of torture, screams and questions all coming up with nothing. Hux gripped the datapad in his hands, his arms trembling as he fought the urge to throw it against the wall, screaming his hatred and frustration out. He’s always looked down his nose at Ren’s temper tantrums but now it was all he wanted to do, to break something or someone, to exercise his absolute fury out until he felt exhausted. He hadn’t slept for two days, he was already at his stimulant limit but he still considered another shot.

“You should rest.”

“No, I'm fine.”

“It wasn’t a request, General. You’re no good to her dead.” Hux contemplated ignoring the order altogether but he knew he needed a rest. He felt stretched, his breaking point was within reach and what good would he be if he was in a bed in the medbay as well? He wordlessly handed over the datapad as medics came to retrieve the trooper.

“You’ll keep going?” He asked brusquely.

“I will see you in 10 hours,” stated Kylo but Hux paused, his coat resting on his forearm.

“Five,” he countered.

“Eight,” Ren shot back.

“Six.”

“Done.” Hux nodded before leaving the room. He had six hours to pass out and then he was going to find out who did this to you.

Kylo waited until Hux had gone before slipping from the room and heading to his own quarters. Ap’lek stood outside the door in full armour, his executioner’s ax grasped in his hand as he stood guard. They didn’t exchange words, they didn’t need to. The door opened and he came face to face with Vicrul, his scythe blade resting on his shoulder ready to swing at a moment's notice. He stepped to the side to let Kylo in, revealing the scene in his quarters. There was a dark haired man kneeling on the floor surrounded by the rest of the Knights, Cardo had his arm cannon pressed into the back of his neck, Ushar had the kinetic charged end of his club in position ready to stun the man if necessary and Trudgen sat before the prisoner running a whetstone along the blade of his vibrocleaver. The sound rang out loud and clear in the silent quarters as he swept the stone with long strikes against the massive blade. Kuruk appeared from the bedroom, performing his checks and making sure the quarters were secure.

Kylo made his way to crouch before the shaking man, slowly running his eyes over the First Order uniform and seeing it was ill fitting.

Has he said anything? Kylo looked up at Trudgeon, the only Knight without his mask on.

No. Came the swift reply followed by another singing note from the blade.

“You won’t get anything out of me.” Kylo turned his attention back to the prisoner.

“We just did,” he stated softly. The prisoner looked up and Kylo could see the man had already surrendered to the idea that he was going to die here.

“The Resistance is not dead. Our spark shines bright in the Galaxy.” Kylo looked at him, just staring as he tried to decide how he was going to play this.

“Vicrul.” The Knight stepped forward and Trudgeon moved out of the way, tossing his chair away with a loud noise. Kylo rose and Vicrul took his place before the prisoner, removing his pastillion ore helmet and placing it carefully on the floor before locking gazes with the prisoner.

Sweat began to bead on the man’s brow, his face quivering the longer Vicrul looked into his eyes. Kylo could feel it, the ripples in the force that his Knight created, the darkness manifested and clung the Resistance fighter, gathering around his head. The other Knights all watched, their own vibrations reacting to their brothers and only the prisoners laboured breathing sounded in the room. It didn’t take long before a scream ripped the air and he began to thrash in the Knights grip, lost in nightmarish visions that only he could see. Kylo let Vicrul have his fun, showing the prisoner visions that would make a Wookiee cower, his screams increasing in pitch. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he began to convulse in the firm grips of Cardo and Ushar.

“Enough,” said Kylo softly. Vicrul broke eye contact and picked up his helmet, the darkness retreated and the prisoner blinked rapidly as though the light was too much for him, his entire body heaved and he looked wildly around.

“What are you going to do to me?” He cried, his voice full of panic.

“It depends what you tell us,” Kylo gestured to the armoured men around him. “My Knights are bored so I suggest you cooperate.”

“Wait wait! Can’t you just search my mind? Take the information for yourself?” Kylo turned away as the Knights shuffled forward, closing ranks around the prisoner.

“Where is the fun in that Major Wexley?” The man was screaming before Kylo had even made it past his door, Kuruk followed and silently traded places with an eager Ap’lek. “Let me know if he says anything. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Kuruk nodded and silently watched his master walk away. They knew where he was going.

Kylo sat at your bedside, his large hand covered yours and echoes of what was happening in his quarters shattered the quiet of his mind. He could feel the force pulsing with the darkside, spreading its touch through the ship. It manifested in different ways, someone pulling a risky move in the training ground and hitting their opponent harder than necessary, an officer shouting at his staff for a simple misdemeanour that should have been dismissed. A fight breaking out in the cantina between two troopers who didn’t like each other, a moment of blind frustration from a medic who threw what he was holding, letting it shatter against the wall.

The Knights had found Wexley trying to slip into a TIE and escape, Kylo hadn’t told Hux. The General was on a cliff edge as it was, Kylo didn’t need him on a murdering spree before all information was dragged from the Resistance pilot, so Kylo let his Knights have a reward. Their energy was chaotic when unused, it needed a release every now and again.

He moved his hand along your cold arm, hating how lifeless you looked, you were still alive. He could feel your light but the warmth was weak and fading. Kylo hoped this pilot had some answers because he didn’t know what he’d do if they didn’t find the antidote in time. He cast a quick eye over the machines noting how your numbers remained steady even though you ebbed ever so slowly away.

He still won’t talk. Kylo sighed, feeling the disappointment in Vicrul’s thoughts.

I’m on my way. He stood, bending over you and peering at your still face for a moment before sweeping abruptly from the room.

The first thing he could feel was the pilot's pain, it radiated out in all directions and Kylo clenched his fists against it. The next thing he noticed was the smell, blood, sharp and tangy against his nose. The floor was slick with the red stains, blood spatter littered the walls in spectacular patterns and Kylo came to a stop looking down at the pitiful man as he bled out onto the floor, his skin was pale, drained of colour because it now painted Kylo’s quarters. He crouched down beside Wexley who was laying on his side, the First Order uniform ripped and tattered, ruined beyond repair much like Wexley himself.

“Are you going to talk?” Asked Kylo softly.

“No.” He admired the man's tenacity, but his time was up. The screams that spewed from him had a hoarse quality, like his throat was too tired, his lungs had no air but Kylo didn’t care as he raced through the man's memories. He had planted the bottle, but it wasn’t meant for you, it was meant for General Hux. The antidote was a plant out in the Teth system. One of the few wild systems left in the Galaxy and travelling there and back again in the time frame left would be a risk, but it was one Kylo was ready to take. He withdrew from the dying Major, his memories growing dark as his body gave up.

“Ready the Night Buzzard,” he demanded. Kylo stood, hearing the last breath from Wexley before moving, his Knights following obediently behind as he began to make his way to the hangar.

Hux woke to the sound of his alarm, swiping it off the screen of the datapad feeling unusually refreshed. He had slept in his uniform so he could get up and find Ren straight away. He walked through the corridors of the Finalizer pleased to see his staff avoiding his gaze as he marched along, this investigation was reminding everyone who was actually in charge here and bringing out Hux’s ruthless side for everyone to see served as another reminder that he wasn’t to be messed with.

He stepped into the interrogation room, taking in the emptiness before turning smartly and heading to the bridge. His lips bruised together in irritation, if Ren had found something and left Hux out he was going to explode. As soon as he entered the bridge Mitaka was at his side.

“Sir, the Supreme Leader gave strict instructions not to wake you.”

“What’s happened?” Snapped Hux.

“The Supreme Leader and the Knights have left for the Teth system.” Mitaka told him.

“Left? What do you mean left?”

“They have gone to retrieve the plant needed for the antidote for….for…..” For you. Hux didn’t have time to pander to his Lieutenant and his sad emotions right now. He tutted, since when did you become such a beloved member to certain people who weren’t him? “He also said to tell you there is a mess in his quarters, but he wanted you to see it before it was cleared up.” Hux left without a word, what an earth could Ren want him to see?

Whatever Hux had imagined on the way to the Supreme Leaders quarters did not prepare him for the sight that met his eyes. Did he really need to see this? Hux was no stranger to torture and death, blood didn’t bother him, violence was his way of life but seeing this gruesome scene did indeed turn his stomach slightly. He also recognised the Knights' handy work.

“Do we know who this is?” He asked a Major who looked rather grey coloured.

“Apparently this is…was Temmin Wexley, Resistance pilot and the person who planted the bottle in your quarters, sir.”

“Clear up this disgusting mess. It has lingered on my ship long enough.” He snapped, displeasure and disgust making his expression contort. He left, stepping the familiar path to the medbay realising now all he had to do was wait. And he hated waiting.

28 notes · View notes

justatiredghost · 4 years

Text

Fixes to the Timeline Ch6

Dave was alive, he was here in the future with him and Klaus couldn’t be happier. Unfortunately they still had plenty of obstacles they had to overcome. Including his nosy family.

“Well, someone’s in a good mood,” Ben said as Klaus sauntered into the kitchen with Dave, humming under his breath.

“It’s a good day,” Klaus said, dropping into his seat at the kitchen table.

“Hell yeah it is,” Dave said, joining him.

Grace, with her usual perfect timing, already had their breakfasts prepared and brought it over for them. She ruffled both of their hair in response to their thanks and Klaus couldn’t help but grin at Dave’s slight blush. He looked flustered if flattered by the fond gesture. Apparently Klaus was doomed to get the warm fuzzies any time someone in his family was nice to Dave.

“So,” Ben said, setting aside the book he’d been reading as Grace took away his own already empty plate. “Just to warn you, Diego dropped by last night after you guys went to bed.”

“Oh? Is he avoiding us?” Klaus asked.

“Maybe he figured you’d still be awake.”

“Fair, my sleep schedule is shit. What did he want?”

“Apparently he wants everyone to come over here for dinner so they can meet Dave. Tonight.”

“Are you kidding me?” Klaus threw his head back and groaned as he slumped into his chair. “They can’t even give us time to settle in?”

“Nope,” Ben said with a grin. “Sorry, Dave. Welcome to the Hargreeves’. We mean well but we’re all terrible.”

“That’s all right, I’m up for the challenge,” Dave laughed.

It was silly how grateful Klaus felt at that. He couldn’t help but shoot him a fond smile before he elbowed him playfully. “You did say you wanted to get to know my family.”

“Yeah, it's exciting,” Dave said with a grin. “I mean, terrifying, but exciting too!”

“Okay, fine, we’re down,” Klaus said to Ben, taking Dave’s hand and squeezing it. “But we reserve the right to bail if they start asking too many awkward questions.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Ben nodded. “I can always cover your escape. For a price, of course. Don’t worry, it won’t be too steep.”

“Oh you are quickly becoming my favorite,” Dave said, gesturing with his fork.

“Second favorite, I’d hope,” Klaus elbowed him again.

“Well, yeah, obviously,” Dave said, rubbing his ribs where he nudged him. “You get your own category.”

“Who all is coming, anyway?” Klaus asked. “Five? Allison?”

“No one knows about Five,” Ben said. “He’s probably busy with whatever it is he does. Allison’s still out of town with her daughter. Honestly it’s probably for the best.”

“What do you mean?” Dave asked.

“He means she and Luther would probably make it awkward,” Klaus said. “Things have been a bit tense between them since the apocalypse. He did some things to try to protect her even though she made it very clear she wanted him to stop, but ya know, she was hurt and he has super strength so there wasn’t really much she could do at the time.”

“I think Allison feels betrayed, understandably,” Ben said. “And while Luther is working on the whole ‘listening to other people and understanding their viewpoints’ thing, I think it’s gonna take a while to rebuild that trust. Doesn’t help that none of us are great at feelings or apologies or working through things like actual adults. Thankfully you don’t have to worry about that until tonight, so! It’s, what, your third day in the future? What do you want to do?”

“Wow, when you put it that way, it’s a bit intimidating,” Dave laughed.

“Hey, we don’t have to do much, we can just chill,” Klaus said.

“You know, I haven’t been able to go on a proper casual non-life threatening walk in so long. It might be nice to see the sights and all that. I’ve been doing too much chilling.”

“I’m not exactly sure there’s any sights to be seen around here, but sure,” Klaus said. “So long as you’re up for it. And you tell me the moment you’re getting too tired.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dave said, bumping his shoulder against Klaus’. “You wanna come, Ben? I’m not sure it’ll be all that interesting, but--”

“Sure, sounds fun.”

Klaus hadn’t actually seen the sky in quite some time. As he stepped outside, he took a deep breath, taking in that fresh air, and immediately started coughing. Ben patted him hard on the back.

“Guess I don’t know how to breathe air that isn’t smoke,” Klaus joked, not that he’d actually smoked anything in some time.

He turned, halfway to the gate to the street, expecting Dave to have some sort of funny reply to that, only to realize he wasn’t following. Dave was still standing just inside the doorway, looking out hesitantly as if the sky might fall on him the moment he crossed the threshold.

“Dave? Everything okay?” he asked, concerned as he headed back to him

“Yeah, yeah, no, all good,” Dave said, waiving a hand with a nervous smile. “It’s just— I guess I know I’m in the future, I get that, but maybe I’m in denial a little bit? It’s not that I don’t believe you, it’s just that inside it was just us, I didn’t have to think about any of the rest of it But as soon as I step out there, it’ll be real. I’m gonna have to accept it and everything that implies.”

The sadness in his eyes told Klaus what he really meant. Dave would have to accept that his life, everyone he knew, everything he had, was gone. Klaus felt a pang of guilt, knowing this was his fault for taking him away from everything he knew and loved. Dave had sacrificed everything in their relationship and what did he have to show for it?

He knew Dave didn’t see it like that, although Klaus wasn’t sure why. There wasn’t much he could do or say to reassure, so instead he just reached out and took Dave’s hand, squeezing tightly. He wasn’t really sure if it would even really help, but he at least needed Dave to know he wasn’t in this alone. Apparently that was the right move because Dave smiled fondly at him before nodding as if he’d made a decision.

With a deep breath, Dave took a determined step outside. He paused a moment before letting out the breath again and looked around, all stiffness suddenly gone like he’d deflated with the breath and he was back to his usual self. Again Klaus felt like he couldn’t tell what he was thinking and he hated it. He knew everything was far from okay, but he could pretend he was fine too. And if that was what Dave wanted to do right now, he was fine with that. Anything to put off the possibility of everything falling apart between them.

It used to be that, at the slightest sign that a relationship could go downhill, Klaus would cut and run, or at least begin putting distance between himself so that it wouldn’t hurt as much. But since he’d met Dave, he’d been trying to be different. To be better. He desperately didn’t want to run now, but those tendencies were still there. He wasn't proud of it, although maybe it was fine because this wasn’t exactly the time for it, but Klaus deflected.That was a serious conversation for future them to deal with. Present them were going to have some fun.

There was still adventure to be had and if he could make Dave genuinely laugh while he still could, that was the priority. He tugged Dave along down the sidewalk, practically skipping.

“So!” Klaus said. “You’ll have to tell me how different things look now.”

“It’s weird” Dave said, looking around with wide eyes. “It’s all pretty normal, and then I see that guy’s clothes over there, or the cars driving by and it all looks completely different.”

“It’s always the little things,” Ben chuckled, hands in his pockets.

“What sorta rad stuff you got going on, then?” Dave asked, suddenly excited. “Like, flying cars? Klaus mentioned we made it to the moon, is it full on Star Trek with teleportation and all that?”

“Not even close,” Klaus said gravely.

“Wait, what?” Dave said, looking crestfallen “No flying cars or teleportation? Like, at all?”

“Afraid not,” Ben replied.

“It really is a betrayal,” Klaus agreed. “Well, other than Five’s teleportation of course. But he’s too stingy to teleport us around everywhere.”

“And instead these are the cars designs people decided to go with?” Dave said. “I dunno, I thought they would be cooler in the future.”

“Bad news,” Klaus said. “That’s pretty much the future in a nutshell, only slightly different and mostly disappointing.”

“Come on now,” Ben said. “There’s been good improvements. Technology, medicine--”

“Fashion,” Klaus chimed in.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Dave gave him a high five.

By the time they returned home, Dave was looking pretty worn out. He rubbed his chest with a wince and Klaus put a hand on his arm to steady him just in case.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked. “Was that too much exercise?”

“All good, all good, just a bit winded,” Dave said, waving a hand dismissively, but he did lean against him when he moved closer.

“People should be here in a couple hours,” Ben said. “Want me to get rid of them?”

“Nah, a nap and I should be right as rain,” Dave assured him.

“Fine, but if you still aren’t great when you wake up, I’m not letting you out of the bed,” Klaus said.

Klaus sighed heavily as he curled up next to Dave. He usually wasn’t one to fret, but between the dread of their little family get together coming up fast, as well as worrying about whatever it was Dave was worrying about, Klaus’ brain was spiralling a little too quickly. He could just talk to Dave, get it all out in the open, but he doubted either of them would particularly be in the mood to be around others after, so surviving the more immediate stuff first was probably a good idea. Klaus just hated waiting.

“That was quite the sigh,” Dave said, putting his arm around him and pulling him closer. “Something on your mind?

“Nah, just wondering how much of a disaster tonight’s gonna be,” he said, because that at least was partly true. He threw his head back with a dramatic groan. “They’re gonna interrogate you, you know that, right?”

“It’ll be fine,” Dave said, kissing his forehead.

“I’m not so sure about that, they’ve never approved of anything I’ve ever done in my life. They’re gonna try to find a reason to hate you. I mean, that’s impossible, you’re irresistible, but tonight’ll still be miserable.”

“It’s worth it,” Dave said, kissing his temple. “Anything in particular I should look out for?”

“They’re probably gonna try to chase you off.”

“That’s impossible too,” Dave said, hugging him close.

“Love you,” Klaus said, trying to ignore the fears still hiding beneath the surface.

“I love you too. We’re in this together. We’ll get through.”

Even after all this time, that was still something Klaus had trouble wrapping his mind around. He’d been alone for so long, there was still the reflexive fear that that was just how he was meant to be and eventually Dave would see it too. He hadn’t yet, though, and he kept assuring him that he had no intention of leaving. Klaus just tried to have faith in that as he burrowed down into the blankets a little further, pressing a little tighter against Dave. He just loved him so fucking much. He’d never wanted anything more than he wanted to be happy with Dave.

Thankfully, Dave did seem quite a bit better when it came time to head back downstairs. Not that Klaus was really sure either of them actually slept. Dave was obviously filled with nervous energy, standing there restlessly while they waited for the others to arrive. Klaus couldn’t help but feel for his state so as an excuse for some sort of contact, he placed his elbow on Dave’s shoulder, leaning against him.

“I know I joked earlier about how I keep running into your siblings without warning, but I’m starting to think that was actually better. Less time to overthink and stress.”

“I wasn’t sure it was even possible to rattle you,” Klaus said, poking him in the arm teasingly.

“What can I say,” Dave said with a shaky laugh. “I’m meeting your family and I just want it to go okay.”

Klaus faltered a moment at the admission, a rush of warmth and fondness nearly overwhelming him. It was just so incredibly sweet and Klaus was surprised by how much that meant to him. He recovered quickly and decided to respond in his usual way; by joking.

“Aww, worried about making a good impression?” Klaus said, although he abandoned the teasing almost immediately, leaning in to kiss his cheek instead. “Come on, relax, it’s gonna be fine.”

“I’m just glad you’re here.”

They heard footsteps coming up to the door and suddenly Klaus realized he probably should have done a slightly better job preparing Dave for all of this. Sure, he’d told him all sorts of things about them, but not exactly everything.

“Oh and just a heads up,” he said, words tumbling out quickly. “Luther is kinda self conscious about his size so maybe try not to bring it up, even as a joke-y compliment.”

“Of course I won’t,” Dave said, offended. “You know me better than that, I’d never make fun of someone’s weight.”

“Not really what I meant but— oh look everyone’s here, hey guys!” Klaus said as the door swung open.

He could see the moment when Dave realized what he meant, but to his credit he recovered almost immediately, surprise covered with a friendly smile as Luther, Diego, and Vanya came in. The fact that they came in together was a bit worrying, they were probably talking about them, making a plan, but Klaus didn’t have time to dwell on that.

“Hey,” Luther said a little awkwardly.

“I assume you’ve all got the lowdown on Dave here?” Klaus asked.

“Yeah, Five told us,” Luther said, stepping forward and extending a hand to him. “It’s good to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Dave said with his charming smile as he accepted his handshake. “Klaus has told me so much about all of you, I’m so glad to finally get to put faces to names.”

“And we're glad that you aren’t, you know,” Vanya said, trailing off awkwardly as she offered Dave her hand as well.

“Dead?” Dave said with a laugh. “Yeah, I know I certainly prefer being alive.”

“Yeah, being a ghost isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Ben said. “Now come on, mom’s already got dinner ready to go.”

#klaus hargreeves #dave katz #klave #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #fanfic #fixes to the timeline #my fic

13 notes · View notes

loopy777 · 5 years

Note

how do you think the early avatars regarded the idea of nations getting bigger and bigger over time through conquests, political marriages, etc, all on the way to full unification beneath 4 banners? do you think did they actually helped that along in an effort to make everything more peacefull and stable, or resist it tooth and nail, or it all depending on the avatar in question?

Well, I think it helps that, for most of the history we’ve seen alluded to, the four nations are nations culturally rather than in the Single Government With Borders sense that we usually think of today.

I mean, we know that there are two main Water Tribes on opposite sides of the world that mostly keep to themselves, and we have indications that the Southern Tribe was made up of distinct groups that might not have had regular contact. The Northern Tribe might have been similar, before the war with the Fire Nation bottled them up.

The Earth “Kingdom” is a giant land-mass with multiple kings who have never seemed particularly worried about the over-monarch at the center of Ba Sing Se. By LoK, the Earth Queen can’t even collect taxes from fairly close settlements outside the city. I’ve always thought that the EK is really made up of city-states that pay lip-service and cultural deference to Ba Sing Se, and perhaps some money, but it’s the city-states themselves exercising the primary influence over the various provinces. I bet the unification of the EK was so slow that the Avatars barely noticed. And it wasn’t even complete until Kuvira conquered it all, although whether it stuck together after her short tyrannical reign is up in the air. (I haven’t read any of the LoK comics, if those deal with the matter.)

We’ve seen the Fire Nation history of being made up of feuding warlords, thanks to ‘Smoke & Shadow,’ and Sozin alluded to the Fire Nation suffering from conflict for much of its history, probably mostly internal in nature. With its island nature, it’s possible the Fire Nation was even more fragmented than the Earth Kingdom at times.

The Air Nomads are the most united of the groups, and but also the nation we’ve seen the least of. And, at least from what we saw of them in Wan's time, they already started out as fairly uniform- although, as I discussed recently, it's possible to add a little more variety if we want.

So I think it’s entirely plausible that there were always four ‘nations’ in that there were four elemental super-cultures, but times saw increases and decreases in their unity. I can see some Avatars being worried by the periods of unification, especially since the ones we know about led to overly-imperial ambitions on the part of the leaders- Chin the Conqueror, Sozin, and Kuvira. But I don’t think there’s necessarily a single historical trend such that one Avatar would look back to the less unified times of another Avatar and lament that those days will never come again.

Which, I think, fits thematically with the Avatar franchise. It’s no coincidence that the eras are defined, and even named out-of-universe, by the individual Avatars. The Avatar franchise is character driven, and always deals heavily with legacy of the consequences of each previous generation’s flaws. Having things constantly shifting and never quite settling down works for the type of storytelling that the franchise engages in.

#thekingofwinterblog

7 notes · View notes

diannaphantomfiction · 5 years

Text

Karivarry LifeSwap AU Writing Prompts. Prompt 8/15: First Meetings

THERE IS NOW A LIST OF CHARACTERS: HERE

Prompt requested by an anonymous @mewwitch. Here’s the Prompt:

If you are still taking prompts for the lifeswapAU, how about their first meetings with each other? Or maybe the first time they introduced each other as romantic partners?

I actually ended up splitting this into two stories, so their introductions as romantic partners will come next!

Kara huffed as she waited for the detective in front of her to uncuff her hands. This, sadly wasn’t exactly an unusual experience. Ever since she had gotten home, Lieutenant Maggie Sawyer had it out for her. As an ex-girlfriend of Alex’s, Kara had sort of assumed it was a way for her to grieve. But it wasn’t that, not anymore. It had gotten insane. Whenever something happened near Kara, Maggie found a reason to bring her in, especially if she thought the Arrow was involved. Now, Maggie wasn’t wrong per say. Kara was the Arrow, but she didn’t have any proof. Kara had made sure of that.

Kara leaned back in the interview room chair, crossed her arms, and glared at the two way glass. “Is this just going to be another time you hold me for 48 hours and hope you get the evidence you need to put me in jail, Lieutenant Sawyer? Because if so I’d like to make some calls.”

They didn’t answer and they made Kara wait, she wasn’t sure how long (she hadn’t gotten a look at a clock as they pushed her through the station to count the time) but she was quickly getting restless. Being locked in a small room wasn’t exactly helping. As she paced the room, pulling her hair out of it’s ponytail and twisting it into a braid as she considered picking up one of the chair and throwing through the two-way mirror. That wouldn’t help her though. In fact, it would be a reason to really arrest her.

Then, the door opened and Kara shifted her stance, moving her arms and widening her eyes to make herself appear more innocent and open. She didn’t recognize the man that stepped inside. He was tall, dressed in a well fitted three piece suit, and clearly conveying openness with his body language.

“Hello Ms. Danvers-Grant. My name is Oliver Queen. I’m a psychologist who often works with the police.”

“You’re here to prove I’m crazy I take it?”

Queen shook his head and gestured to the chair. “I’m just here to listen.”

Kara gave him a flat look. “I know Lieutenant Sawyer is watching on the other side of the glass. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Then let’s prove her wrong.”

Kara glared at the glass as he sat down, but wiped her face back to the innocent face before sitting down. Queen asked her a lot of questions. About the island. About her family. About how she was re-accumulating. About her sleep cycles and her relationships. If she was making new friends. If she’d connected with old ones. How and if she relaxed. If she had nightmares. Kara gave away just enough to satisfy him, tearing up at the appropriate times, clenching her jaw and refusing to answer what she thought normal people would refuse to ask. Queen was kind, open, and understanding, not judging her or pushing too much.

He thanked her for her time and left the room as she wiped away fake tears. There. That should fool them.

“Well?” Maggie Sawyer asked as soon as Oliver closed the door.

Oliver raised an eyebrow at the Lieutenant. He was doing this as a favor to Lance and because he had a personal interest in the vigilante. But, he did not like Maggie Sawyer’s approach to finding out who the Arrow is. She’d gotten one thing in her mind and was harassing one person because she was ‘too different now.’ After five years of struggling to survive, torture, and being cut off from the world.

“Well, she’s a social chameleon with extreme PTSD that she is somehow functioning with and highly conditioned violent tendencies.”

“So, it’s her?”

Oliver snarled. “So, you’re attacking a woman because of completely understandable survival techniques and PTSD and I will be reporting you to your Captain and telling Ms. Danvers-Grant to take of a restraining order on you.”

He starts to walk away but she grabs his arm. “She fits your profile.”

“And I’m sure she’s not the only one, but I fully believe that if Ms. Danvers-Grant was the Arrow, with all the harassment she’s been undergoing at your hands, she would have snapped and attacked you as your tried to arrest her by now. I did my job. I gave you a profile as a favor for my father. Now do yours, Lieutenant.”

Oliver doubled over, breathing heavily as he tried to look around. The device Felicity and Mac had thrown together to speed him up in a last ditch effort to stop Zoom felt heavy against his chest and he was pretty sure the grass under his feet was smoking. Well, it had worked, because he was pretty sure he wasn’t in Central and it had only been about five minutes.

He was in the middle of a park, one in a city most likely judging by the amount of people in it, looking at him.

“Is that the Flash?”

“What is he doing here?”

“I’m sure Super… will be here soon.”

Wait, which Super? Had he run all the way to Metropolis? What the fuck? There was no way he’d gone that fast. Was that even possible? Seriously, that seemed like the type of thing that should rip even his body apart.

“Hey, Flash!” A man came running up and held a bottle of water out. Oliver just stared at the man in confusion. “You look like you need this.”

Oliver just blinked at him.

“What they don’t take care of you in Star?”

Aside from occasionally pulling him out of the way when he was injured, the citizens stayed out of his way. He didn’t mind, it was a safety thing. If he slowed down long enough for them to interact with him, there was a high chance he was about to get attack. When he was just on patrol, he just moved to fast to interact with. There were the kids that left drawings outside the lab and Felicity always brought the drawings inside to tac on the walls, but that was the most interaction he really got.

Oliver slowly took the water. “...Thanks.”

People started to point up at the sky, parents lifting their kids so they could get a better look, and Oliver saw a red and blue shape. Superman? No, there wasn’t a cape. Superboy. Central City. Okay, that actually made some sense. Central wasn’t on the other side of the country at least, just 600 miles away. ...no, it wasn’t any better. It was still way to fast.

Superboy landed gently and with more grace than Oliver had ever come to a stop with in his life. He was... gorgeous, with wide, green eyes that sort of sparkled and nice looking light brown hair. His body was proportioned just right, thin and tall, but not lanky or awkward. He moved like he had complete control over every cell.

“Flash, welcome to Central City! Sorry it took me some time to get to you. I heard you coming, but I didn’t know you could move that fast.”

And then he smiled at Oliver; a bright, wide smile that reached his eyes and shined like the sun. Oliver felt his heart drop to his stomach and a warmth spread through his chest and arms. He found himself smiling back, the idea of doing anything else seemed wrong. He recognized this feeling. It was the exact feeling he’d had the first time he’d seen Kara take down a thug in five seconds and then turn all her attention to him to make sure he was alright.

Shit.

Barry was probably more excited about this than he should be. He was a grown adult. He really should be this excited about being invited for a training exercise in Star City, but he didn’t really have superhero friends of his own. Diana and Bruce were Kal-El’s friends, and while Diana had always treated him like a beloved nephew, they didn’t exactly consider him an equal.

No, outside his team, Barry only had Oliver, the Flash. And Oliver had been nothing but kind and welcoming, often running to Central just to give Barry a hand or to get lunch with him. Barry reciprocated in turn, and he enjoyed their friendship. He wanted more than friendship, but he was willing to settle, because a life without Oliver sounded impossible. Oliver talked about the mysterious Arrow as much as he did everything else in his life put together. Barry knew love when he saw it. He’d seen it in Clark’s eyes when he spoke about Lois, and Diana’s when she spoke about Steve or Bruce and Oliver got that same look in his eyes when he spoke about the Arrow.

Oliver’s base was bursting at the seams. The teenagers had managed to huddle in one corner, masks off and phones out as they exchanged numbers and social media and funny pictures with their masks and hoods off. Felicity and Winn had grabbed Cisco and pulled him off to the tech and the three of them seemed to be having a grand time. The Black Canary and Siren were talking to Caitlin, all three of them still in their masks and seemed to be having some sort of subtle badass off. Diggle and John were standing next to each other and pretending they weren’t wearing the same exasperated expression.

Finally, Barry saw Oliver, standing off to the side with his domino mask hanging around his neck and suit unzipped just enough to make it a little more comfortable. He was smiling and laughing and Barry had to stop himself from happy floating. Nope. Not here in front of everyone. Not while Caitlin could see him and she would tell everyone. Iris would never let it go. Oh Rao, Len would never let it go. No happy flying.

“Hey, Barry!” Oliver smiled when he caught Barry’s eye and waved him over.

Barry headed over as slowly as he thought he could, wishing his suit had pockets so he’d have something to do with his hands. Then he saw who Oliver was talking to. She had to be the Arrow and yes, it turned out she was as gorgeous as Oliver implied. Her green suit was somehow both practical and completely feminine at the same time. Her long blonde hair fell down between her shoulder blades in a tight braid. Her eyes were so blue and just full of intelligence and determination.

“...warrior goddess…” Barry whispered.

Then the Arrow turned to look at him and Barry promptly tripped and cracked the concrete under him.

#fanfiction #Writing Prompts #Karivarry Life Swap AU #Arrow #The Flash #Supergirl #AU #prompt #Karivarry #Life Swap AU

11 notes · View notes

whispersafterdusk · 5 years

Text

The Master’s Apprentice - ch 7

Having seen the crown for himself gave him a clear understanding of why Kestrel's offer to him had been so black and white, and he found that any remaining anger or misgivings he had about her had been swept away by an underlying fear of what was buried under his feet. And now he understood too that until they figured out how to deal with the crown that it WAS in fact too dangerous to leave - they were dealing with a Daedric Prince...if someone wanted that information it wasn't going to matter if Onmund wanted to tell anyone or not because there were an alarming number of ways it could be forced out of him.

He couldn't help but notice that in the following days Kestrel seemed worried...somewhat distracted as she took him through his lessons; it could only be because of the crown, but was she worried about him trying to do as her last apprentice had? Surely not...she'd seen how it had effected him and he had zero desire to even go near the damned thing. ((continued below cut))

But did she suddenly suspect him? Had that lessened her trust in him?

That morning when he placed his tally mark (eleven months, twelve days - had it really been so long?) and waited for Kestrel to knock he couldn't stop dwelling on it...worrying that she'd now see him as untrustworthy, or a liability. When the knock came and he opened his door he just barely caught the worried look disappear under a mask of pleasant politeness; he sighed heavily and she raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"What is it, apprentice?"

"You've not been acting like yourself ever since you showed me that crown. Why?"

She blinked at him, looking surprised. "Oh?"

"You've been distracted, I see how you look when you think I'm not looking at you. I saw it just now. Something's wrong, isn't it? Or do you not trust me anymore?"

Kestrel rubbed her hands together idly, scratching her own knuckles; it was a fidgety movement and seemed out of place on her - she'd always seemed so confident and prim. For a time she didn't reply and chewed on her lower lip, then huffed a small sigh through her nose. "You are not as attuned to the magical flows of this place as I am - not yet. You cannot sense the defenses, or notice if something is awry."

A pit of ice formed in his stomach. "What do you mean? Has someone found us?"

"Yes, and no. Do you remember me saying there should have been no way for you to fall down here?"

"Well, yes."

"To me that meant that I had been found, without my knowing. Someone or something was trying to get down here and had opened the way...a way I'd thought sealed and obscured, and that I thought I would notice if it suddenly wasn't."

"So...someone knows we, and the crown, are down here?"

She nodded, looking grim. "That's what I suspect. I've felt someone testing my wards - not the ones around the crown," she added quickly. "The protective measures laid around this little compound. No one should know I'm here. There were NO natural caverns below Saarthal - what ones that existed in this particular part of the mountain were dug out and that is what Saarthal was built within...and yet so slowly that I never detected it someone managed to open enough of a way here for you to slip down."

The pit of ice turned into a sharp spike of fear as he looked at her. "Master, I promise - I wasn't sent down here by anyone, I-"

"No, no, I believe you," she interrupted. "Your coming here was by accident. It is a benefit to us both that I do not need sleep as I've been awake and aware each time something taps against my defenses...but I haven't been quick enough to catch the damned skeever that's poking around."

Onmund swallowed hard as a terrible thought came to him. "...this didn't start until you showed me the crown, did it?"

"Correct. Or, well...the testing of the wards began then - I obviously never noticed someone burrowing in my direction. The poking is... It's very subtle but I am always especially wary after showing someone the crown."

"So, it's possible someone sensed it in the instant you dropped your defenses to show me?"

"Yes and no. I WAS hiding beneath the Eye's magical presence and that's now gone...ordinarily I'd say the odds are nigh impossible that someone would be looking this way at the perfect time but we're dealing with a Daedric Prince and I've no doubt he wants his artifact found and put to use, whatever its actual use IS. My own power is leaps and bounds ahead of any mortal but I'm a single speck of sand on a shoreline against Molag Bal's tidal wave."

"...what do we do, then?" he asked carefully. The thought that Molag Bal was scheming to open the way down here for someone to take that crown...it was deeply terrifying, especially considering that the way was already open ENOUGH if he was able to fall down here.

Still rubbing fingers across her knuckles Kestrel began to pace. "-I am hopeful that the fact he hasn't directly intervened to retrieve the crown means that he is somehow unable to, as we'd both be easily crushed under his power...but his agents are certainly looking for a way in. It seems a shift in your education is now required -- what do you know of battle?"

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

Thirteen months, five days. Day after day of combat instruction and practice, ward strengthening, mental exercises, and tense evenings where Onmund's imagination liked to picture horrible, nightmarish things crawling about on his ceiling just out of his view. There were some days that the fear made him angry more than anything - no sane person welcomed fear even if it was a handy survival instinct, and Onmund found he hated this...this formless, unknown fear more than anything else. It would be different, he felt, if he knew exactly what was coming for him (for THEM) but not knowing left a gnawing anxiety at the edges of his focus.

Kestrel didn't speak much about further attempts to find gaps in her defenses; he knew it was still happening as she was still on edge, no matter how much she tried to hide it from him. She tried to keep them on as normal a schedule as possible but there were scattered mornings where she was late coming to get him and he would meet her hurrying down the hall.

This was another one of those mornings; Onmund was already at the door to the Hall of Mirrors when she emerged from her room, and she followed him inside without a word.

These combat lessons - old battlemage techniques, she'd called them - had him utterly sick of this room; there were scorch marks, shattered places, melted places, uneven spots in the floor...so many signs of the rigorous training she was putting him through, day after day. In their earliest lessons if he'd damaged anything in the room she'd fixed it without hesitation...she hadn't bothered with that in nearly two weeks.

"Good morning," was all he said as he walked out into the middle of the room, ducking between two monoliths.

He heard a mumbled greeting in return as he took his place and turned to her, ready to start the day with a spar as usual; Kestrel's image across the room was blurred - sort of like looking through a fogged glass. At first he wondered if this was some new defensive technique that would be the center of today's lesson but...no - the whole room was sort of blurry.

Glancing down to his hands he found he was blurry even to himself -- his outline was a swirling fog, a thin smoke rising from his skin and, as he watched, it was spreading out to coat his entire body.

"-what is this?" he asked - his voice echoed in his own head and an instant later he staggered at the sensation of something impaling through his chest...nothing was there that he could see but there was a distinct feeling of something lodged there.

And it was pulling.

His body was turning transparent as the hook-like sensation around his sternum intensified, and Onmund felt more than saw his feet leave the floor before his vision went dark; there was a rushing, roaring noise in his ears and the pressure in his chest became unbearable as he was ripped upward in total darkness.

It was over quickly; a blinding light filled his eyes as he struck stone hard enough that he bounced and rolled, all of the air blasted out of him and struggling to breathe. Through the roaring in his ears he heard a faint "Onmund? He- he's alive?!" and then there was nothing as the light went away, and so did he.

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

Beneath him was a straw mattress - it was poking him in several places - and over him was a light coverlet, and somewhere beyond the darkness of his closed eyelids he could hear voices talking.

"Are you certain?" That voice was definitely Tolfdir's.

A woman's voice - soft and sympathetic, and unfamiliar - answered him. "Unfortunately I am, Master Mage. He bears a mark - it's a common type of spell among those who keep slaves. Given time I could free him of it."

"To think he's been someone's prisoner all this time...poor boy."

"Let's give him time to rest and come around, and see what he has to say for himself. It might help determine just how ensnared he is."

How ensnared...? His mind was very groggily processing what he'd heard but from what he understood...whoever that woman was who was speaking could tell he had a spell on him. Kestrel's spell? It could only be that. How had she sensed it though? Onmund had yet to reach a point where he could sense it and it was ON him - maybe that was purposeful...obviously Kestrel wouldn't want him figuring out how to remove it on his own.

But whoever that woman was COULD sense it, and she meant to remove it.

No, no no no... He couldn't let her do that - it was highly likely Kestrel could kill him with the spell at any distance and if she felt someone tampering with it...well, it would only make sense for her to kill him to keep the crown's secret safe. He certainly wouldn't blame her but he definitely would rather remain alive.

Though at the moment he had to admit that death seemed rather attractive -- his head both spun and throbbed at every little movement, he swore he could feel his own pulse in his eyeballs, there was a very deep ache in his chest where the pulling sensation had been, and all over his skin felt...tight, or burnt; he didn't think it was possible to feel worse than he had after Kestrel had tried to kill him, but well...here he was. However they'd managed to rip him out of Kestrel's care had really done a number on him and if he stopped existing for a little while he didn't think that would be such a bad thing.

He eventually drifted asleep and woke up later feeling only slightly better; the burning, tight feeling across his body had faded and the pain in his chest lessened, though the throbbing in his head was still just as terrible as it'd been earlier. Very carefully he opened his eyes and, without moving his head, looked around as much as he could at a room he hadn't seen in over a year.

Everything he could see seemed to be exactly where he'd left it; very slowly, very carefully, he rolled to his side and leveraged himself up on an elbow, making a few feeble attempts to free his feet from the covers. They'd only removed his boots but the sleeves to his shirt were rolled up - he definitely didn't remember doing that himself, and knowing that the runes of Kestrel's spell were visible across his chest and down his arms he had a feeling he knew why his sleeves were rolled.

The more he (carefully) moved the easier it became and finally he sat up on the edge of the bed with his bare toes just barely brushing against the cold stone floor; it was so strange to be back in this room again - bittersweet and a touch ironic, he thought. He could still remember a time where he'd wanted, more than anything, to come back here...and now that he was, all he wanted now was to return to where he'd been.

How was he going to explain himself? What could he safely tell them? Would they leave him alone if he asked, or believe his explanation that it would kill him if they tried to take Kestrel's spell off him?

Movement at the door caught his attention; looking up Onmund found Tolfdir, Faralda, and another Altmer woman he'd never seen before peering in at him.

The woman was tall - much taller than Faralda next to her - and had shining black hair that hung freely to her shoulders; she wore a forest green, knee-length leather vest over cream colored robes, tied with a brown sash hemmed with gold thread. Her face was softer, rounder - not as angular as Faralda's and definitely not like Kestrel's - and bright amber eyes were looking at him in a mixture of curiosity and something like pity.

Toldfir wore a similar expression though his was tinged with excitement and relief - in a way it was sort of...heartwarming, Onmund supposed, that the elder looked genuinely pleased to see him. "Onmund, my boy...words cannot express how glad we all are to find you alive, after so much time."

"How are you feeling?" the Altmer (that wasn't Faralda) asked, wringing her hands. "I'm relieved I didn't accidentally kill you...that spell isn't meant for living creatures," she added under her breath.

"I've felt better," Onmund replied, gaze moving between the three. "How did you bring me back here? Why?"

"Well," Tolfdir started, sighing. "Your parents were adamant we return your remains, and - with the assistance of our guest here - we aimed to do just that."

Tolfdir nodded to the tall Altmer who then politely bowed toward Onmund. "Indeed... I wasn't expecting to be seeking a living man, only calling a lifeless object to myself. If I'd even suspected you were alive there were many different precautions I would have taken, and you wouldn't be feeling as poorly as you do now."

He shrugged and stood, swaying a bit but finding his balance fairly quickly; his head pounded at the change in posture but he grit his teeth and carefully padded barefoot over toward the door, only to walk into something both solid and invisible right before he reached the doorway. "-ow, what-"

The tall Altmer woman rubbed a hand against her neck, looking guilty as she hurried to step back behind Tolfdir. Onmund reached out a hand and again hit something solid but unseen - he knocked his knuckles against it experimentally and could just barely see a tiny ripple spreading from where he struck...whatever it was in front of him. "What is this? Why have you trapped me in my room?"

"That's, ah..." Tolfdir started, blowing out a long, slow sigh. "That's a precaution, is all."

"For what? You can't honestly think I'd hurt anyone." Onmund honestly wasn't certain if it was more worrying or insulting.

Tolfdir glanced to Faralda and then the nameless Altmer before looking back to him. "It would seem you have some kind of magical mark upon you - a sign that you have been claimed by something or another. We're not entirely sure about its true function just yet, but in the name of caution we would rather you remain contained for now."

Onmund frowned, fighting to keep his expression and voice even. "I won't hurt anyone and I'm not under anyone's control. I know what spell you mean, and uh-" he looked up at the black-haired Altmer woman -- he was fairly certain it had been her voice he'd heard before, talking about wanting to remove the spell on him. "-trust me, the spell is the only reason I'm alive. I will absolutely die if you take it off me."

The woman pressed her lips into a thin line, giving Tolfdir a knowing look; Toldfir nodded to her and looked back to Onmund. "I'm afraid we aren't inclined to take your word for it."

He felt a little chill go down his spine. "Wait, you mean you'd actually risk killing me outright?"

"I've seen these sorts of spells before, young man-"

"No, you haven't," Onmund interrupted the Altmer woman before he could stop himself. It was the bare truth - she couldn't have possibly seen a spell Kestrel created in isolation - but he knew he couldn't explain it further than that...not without telling them far more than he knew he or Kestrel would want them to know. "And I know you haven't because this spell is unique."

Again the woman gave him a pitying look before resting a hand on Tolfdir's shoulder. "I think this only confirms my suspicions, Master Mage. When he is recovered we can start our attempts."

"No, please - you have to believe me," Onmund insisted. He pressed his hands against the invisible wall that kept him barricaded in his room. "Please, if you remove it I'm going to die. How do you think I survived the fall?"

"You tell us," Faralda replied flatly. "You didn't have such a spell on you prior to your fall, and you would have needed to survive in the first place for anyone ELSE to have placed it on you. Speaking of, WHO placed it on you?"

Onmund paused, gnawing on his lower lip. "...there's another mage trapped down there," he said slowly. It wasn't technically a lie, and it didn't give them more than they needed to know. "She found me, and placed the spell on me to save my life. I am going to die if you remove it."

Again the Altmer woman gave Tolfdir a knowing look, then sighed and walked away muttering under her breath. Tolfdir echoed the sigh and gave Onmund a strained smile.

"We will do what we can, Onmund. I just hope you can understand our need for caution. Get yourself back into bed and rest up - we'll have a meal sent up soon, and then we can all talk when you're feeling better."

With a quiet growl Onmund banged the heel of his palm against the invisible barrier. "Tolfdir, please - you have to believe me. I really, really do not want to die. You can set me free, I'm not under anyone's control and I'm not going to hurt anyone, but please, just leave the spell alone."

Tolfdir nodded idly and turned to leave without another word; Faralda's look was one of mistrust and unease, but there was an underlying concern there as well.

"Do you feel injured?" she asked.

"I... I feel like someone tried ripping my ribcage out in one piece, then threw me into a too-hot bath."

Faralda frowned, rubbing at her chin. "I'm sorry... I'll fetch a few things to help with the pain. I can't cast through the barrier on your room so we'll have to make do with potions and teas for now."

"Please tell me YOU believe me? Or at least don't want to kill me? Hey - wait! Faralda!" He smashed his face up against the barrier, struggling to keep Faralda in view as she walked away, ignoring his shouted questions.

"Oh so happy to see me one moment, eager to murder me the next," he muttered into the silence that followed.

The longer he stood the more his head throbbed, and he was beginning to feel lightheaded and dizzy. He padded back over to his bed and climbed into it; it was like sleeping on stone compared to his bed back-

...back home. That's really what that place had become: home. He lived there, studied and learned there, and had a purpose there too...moreso than he'd had when he'd been here at the College, and now he was endangering all of that.

He didn't for a moment think Tolfdir or the others would stoop to...to torture, or anything like that, to drag the truth out of him about where he'd been the past year -- but who was the black-haired Altmer woman? She seemed like someone important; with a sinking feeling he suddenly wondered if she was the new Arch-Mage...no, that was stupid. She hadn't been here before he'd fallen down to Kestrel, and there's no way a stranger would have climbed the ranks in such a short period of time. And yet...with how she and Tolfdir had interacted she was clearly more than another apprentice or initiate, and she didn't dress like a Thalmor either.

Who was she? What was her purpose?

And...how strong was she? Would he have a chance to escape while she was trying to pry Kestrel's spell off him?

#The Master's Apprentice #tma #The Master's Apprentice - ch 7 #Onmund #AU #Skyrim

1 note · View note

justoneday-namjoonii · 7 years

Text

Di piano e forte 05

pt. 1 ↠ pt. 2 ↠ pt. 3 ↠ pt. 4 ↠ pt. 5 ↠ pt. 6

↠Summary: Piano; A keyboard of cypress, played with soft and loud. Was it the ivory and onyx keys that let you escape from your reality…Or was it the man with sable hair and ivory skin.

↠Genre: Angst, fluff.

↠Warnings: This fic contains slight domestic and verbal abuse as well as mature subjects. Sexual assault. Mentions of depression. This may be triggering, read with caution.

author’s note: I decided to turn this into something a little more angsty, in couldn't resist lol I hope you enjoy. Updates for this series on Thursday or Friday, enjoy!

You panted heavily, stretching your arms and holding your hands behind your head to give your lungs a break. The sun hadn't risen yet. You liked to jog early in the morning, to avoid the pounding heat of the sun. Mom always says exercise is a good way to take time for yourself, but you're using it as an outlet to escape from what's been going on. Your brother hasn't been home for a week now and you couldn't help but get worried—well, you were relieved and worried. The house was peaceful; but sad and even depressing.

You were ashamed to admit how bad you've been emotionally eating. When you got home from work you went straight for the sweets, or you wouldn't eat at all. When you were at school you were getting by on boba teas. But this week you made the decision to get yourself together, eat better, exercise and even sleep more. It was making a difference, somewhat. After this you had a doctors appointment, your body pains have gotten better so you were hoping you could get off of the pills soon.

The bridge crossing the lake was just as beautiful as it was at night, it looked so poetic in a way. It was the kind of place friends should go to walk and talk about their innermost feelings and joys. When your dad was still living he'd take you and your along with him to walk around the city. The packed train station was a place to look for adventure, pick a place to stop and your adventure begins. The pictures in my distant memories were perfect—the current me was an image, a moment where loneliness had stopped time. No one would know how lonely you were. You didn't even know.

I drove back home, eager to get to the shower.

You walked up to the counter, handing the nurse your papers. “Hi, I'm here for the 8:45 appointment with Dr. Lu.”

“Ok, I'll check you in. You can have a seat.” She went to her computer and you went to wait in the tiny waiting room.

A few minutes went by and they called you to the back.

“Hello Miss. Y/LN. How are you?” He came in, smiling with his usual clipboard and coat.

“Hi,” You sat down, holding your purse in your lap, “I'm good, and you?”

“I'm great.” He looked over his papers and sighed. “So, how are your body pains? Has the medicine helped?”

“Yeah, my shoulders still get to me when I'm really stressed but other than that they've been pretty good. I was wondering if I should keep taking them, you know? I just don't want my body to become dependent on it...it kind of makes me depressed, I shouldn't have these problems, I'm so young...”

He nodded his head for a few seconds before sighing. “Well, it's not fibro myalgia so that's good. And you can get body pain for a number of reasons, it's not always age. But you told me that sometimes your almost in tears from the pain, I do want you to live comfortably. I will prescribe the same pain killers and you can pick them up at the drug store.”

“Thank you Dr. Lu, I really appreciate.” He opened the door and you bid him farewell. When you got to the front desk the nurse gave you the prescription and you thanked her.

You left with your purse on your shoulder and the prescription in hand. You couldn't have been more lonely right now. With heavy steps you walked to the bus station and sat on the bench.

When the bus finally pulled up you used your coins to pay before walking to your usual spot, leaning your head against the glass.

“Ok ma'am, we'll have it out in a second.” The pharmacist went to the back to get the medicine. As you waited you saw a familiar head of hair in the isle behind you, you tried to lean back and see who it was but right when you went back the person left and they handed you the medication.

“Here you go.”

“Thank you.”

You paid for it and went on your way.

“Here.” Yoongi tossed the wrist brace on Namjoons lap.

“Thanks Hyung.”

“I don't know how you sprained your wrist cleaning the bathroom.” He laughed, Namjoon just shrugged.

He sniffed. “Hyung...” Namjoon gave Yoongi a knowing look before sighing. “Are you smoking again? You only smoke when your reevaluating your life or some shit like that.” Namjoon sat next to him on the couch, fastening the wrist brace.

“It's nothing, really.” He shrugged.

“Is it your mom?” He saw Yoongi’s expression bo blank, that's what it was. “It is isn't, what happened Yoongi, is she okay?”

He sighed. “Her and my dad are still legally married, he's in a relationship right now so he's trying to divorce her.” He rested his head in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. “He's fucking sick. He knows she's under his health care, if that stops I don't know how she'll be able to stay at rehab.”

“Can't she get help from the government? You know, like government assistance.”

“Yeah, but they'll just give her more shitty drugs and put her in a group home, to rot. Where she is now is much better for her recovery, it's expensive but she's getting better and at least I know she's safe there.” Yoongi was hiding it well but Namjoon could sense how upset he was. He was always worried about her, regardless of her troubled past. When he was at his piano late at night, thinking Namjoon wasn't awake, he wept. Those black and white keys were coated in his tears, he'd bang on the keys and shout in a drunken fit when he was really upset. He never remembered doing it though, he'd wake up with a bad hangover, not knowing the things he'd done the night before.

“I have to talk to him...I'm stalling though.” He sort of chuckled, he hated talking to that unreasonable man.

“You know I'm here, I'll do anything I can to help.” He gave his shoulder a comforting pat before he left. “I'll be at the studio if you need me.”

When Namjoon closed the door Yoongi leaned back on the couch, what was he gonna do? He only wanted what was best for her. He couldn't visit her often and when he did he had to prepare himself, mentally. She used to have a bad addiction when he was a kid, she got a hold of the wrong prescriptions and her life went downhill from there. She had never been more disappointed in her self, she blamed herself for all of Yoongi’s problems. That guilt alone ate her from the inside out. Just recently is when she started to learn how to forgive herself, except that he forgives her.

“Y/N! We're still waiting on those sandwiches!”

“I'm sorry! They're coming out.” You were using the panini press to make what seemed the hundredth sandwich today. You were struggling to get the food finished so instead of looking for the things you tried to grab it with your hand.

“Agh!” You hissed, there were now red grill marks on your hand. You threw the sandwiches on the plate and sat the food in the window. I'm done. You've been here since 9:30 and it's going on 7 o'clock. You ran to the sink to rinse off your burn. When you went to the front one of your coworkers asked if you could help with the ice teas.

“There's a peach black tea and- Oh my God, what happened to your hand?”

Instinctively, you tried to hide it. “I-it's nothing, just a little burn.” You tried to play it off like it was nothing, even though it felt like your skin was boiling.

After the last cup of tea, you could finally leave, you got your bag, took off your apron and you went on your way.

It was drizzling outside so you ran to the bus stop, trying to shield your face from the relentless drops. There was a slight breeze in the air and you caught a whiff of smoke, you coughed a little looking for the source. You looked back and saw a pretty pale hand resting outside of a car window, skin of that color could only belong to one person you knew of.

Min Yoongi. He must've seen you too because he was letting down the passenger's side window. “Hey.” He took a long drag of his cigarette before putting it out. You never would've guessed he smoked, then again you never really know how people are or what they do when you're not around.

“Hi.” You held your hand above your head, trying to keep the rain from getting on your face

“Are you taking the bus?”

You nodded, pushing the strands of hair behind your ear with squinted eyes.

“You'll be waiting for a while, come on. I'll take you home.” He leaned over to open the door as you scurried over.

“Thanks.” You sighed, putting on your seat belt.

When you looked over at him, you could tell there was something different about him. You weren't sure what it was, you just knew there was something off. You two sat there for a while, he was on his phone and you just waited patiently for him to pull off.

“What happened to your hand?” He suddenly pointed to the grill like marks on the back of your hand.

“It's from the panini press.” You answered simply, licking your lips as you noticed how dark it had become.

"It looks painful.” He commented without actually looking at it. You just nodded. The drive was sort of awkward because of the obvious elephant in the room. The two of you hadn't talked in almost two weeks, you haven't had any piano lessons from him and he hasn't offered. But now he's driving you home—he actually remembered where you lived. He took all the right turns but of course ran into the usual traffic.

“So, are we gonna talk about it?” Yoongi asked suddenly, saying what you had been thinking about this whole time. You relaxed when he stopped at the red light, his attention, for the first time, undivided and on you. To his disdain you just shook your head, maybe he wanted a more in-depth answer but you didn't feel the need to give one. You're both adults and it was a little kiss. It shouldn't have consumed your thoughts like it did. He took a deep breath before sighing once again—he does that a lot you've noticed. “Do you still want lessons...”

“Um...yeah, I still want to learn...” You cleared your throat, the smell of smoke still lingered in the car. It was hard to really look at him. His appearance had changed since the last time you saw him. His eyes were darker, his hands were paler and he looked tired. The last time you saw him you two had kissed in the rain, that wasn't something you just do with anyone. It was so impulsive and out of character of him, he didn't know what he was acting on. It could've been desperation, neediness, he could've been compelled by the desire of physical touch, he really didn't know. You kind of blame yourself for making the relationship so casual, you were the one who asked him on a date. Who does that to their piano teacher?

When he pulled up to your house you were both equally shocked to see the parking lot full of cars. He's back, you thought. The sound of laughter and music was an indicator that Jaebum was having a party.

“Sorry to bother you but, do you have any aspirin?” Yoongi looked to you with the tilt of his head. “I have the worst headache.”

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure we have some. I'll bring you one.” You got out and went up the stairs with your key in hand.

You didn't want to go in there. The horrid smell of body odor and alcohol was never something you were fond of. You pushed the key in the lock and opened the door slowly, you could already smell the marijuana and beer wafting in the air.

There were a bunch of people, you didn't even know he knew so many people. To get out of this suffocating environment you immediately went to your room, glad you decided to lock it before leaving this morning. You could hear Jaebum shouting nonsense, he was drunk, as expected. You quickly closed your room door and went to your bathroom.

“Aspirin, aspirin...” You searched through your medicine and you couldn't find any. You were gonna text him but quickly you remember you left your bag in his car. You were about to leave your room but you heard someone walk in, you froze.

One of Jaebums friends.

“Y/N, I thought Jaebum said y- you were gone?” He was either high or drunk—but probably both.

You ignored him, hoping he'd let you pass by without a problem. Judging by the look on his face he wasn't intending on letting you leave anytime soon.

“Excuse me.” You tried to walk past him but he grabbed you but the shoulders and pushed you back.

“What the hell?! Move!” Demanded, getting angrier and angrier by the second.

“Why don't we close the door and a have some fun?” He closed the door behind him and stalked towards you. “I've always had my eyes on you, you know that? You may be annoying but your fine as hell.” He was already right in front of you—your heart was beating out of your chest in fear.

“Don't do this.” That didn't sound as confident as you intended. He pushed you on the bed, trying to pin you down as you flailed violently.

“Get off! I- I don't want this!” You cried.

“What's taking her so long?” He put out his cigarette. You've been up there's for almost five minutes, how long doesn't it take to find some aspirin. He decided he'd go up there and see if you were ok, it wasn't like you to just not sat anything. When he got upstairs he didn't bother knocking, the door was open. Some hoe saw him when he walked in and strolled over.

“What's your name?” She walked over with a red solo cup in her hand.

He just walked away, not bothering to actually give her the time of day. He navigated through the groups of people to get to your bedroom, he knocked.

No answer.

Your light was on so you were in there, did you not hear him. He knocked again. “Y/N? Hey, I don't need the aspirin, it's okay if you don't have it.”

Yoongi? Thank God.

“Yoongi!” Your shouting was muffled by the hand over your mouth. “H-help-” You couldn't get out a coherent call for help.

“Who the hell is that?” He frowned. He didn't wait for a response, he was quickly attempting to undress you and you barely had the strength to push him. No, no, no...you were squirming and he kept squeezing your arm, eliciting bloodcurdling cries from your mouth.

You bit his hand. “YOONGI!!” You screamed bloody murder, probably scaring the life out of your neighbors.

Yoongi immediately barged in to see you in tears underneath some lowlife, crying and kicking. “Get the fuck off of her! You piece of shit!” Yoongi ripped him off of you and they were tussling on the floor. When the guy stood up Yoongi punched him, causing him to fall back almost instantly.

“What the hell?” Jaebum walked in, looking at Yoongi, then at you, then one of his best friends.

“The fuck?” Jaebum narrowed his brows. “Is this your boyfriend Y/N?”

You were too busy trying to situate your clothes and wipe your tears to answer him. It was pissing Yoongi off the way Jaebum totally disregarded the obvious situation you were in.

“Y/N fucking talk.” He raised his voice at you but you only got up to go to the bathroom and clean yourself up.

“Hey! I'm talking to you!” He ran over and yanked you back by the arm, you winced.

You were in a lot of pain and you could barely cry out anymore.“No! Stop-”

Yoongi pulled you behind him. “Don't you fucking touch her.” You ran into the bathroom, leaving your brother and Yoongi in a stare off.

“Who the fuck are you? Her damn guardian angel or something? What makes you think you can go around knocking out my friends?” Jaebum pushed Yoongis chest, challengingly him.

“It's none of your damn business. That son of a bitch was literally assaulting her, your own sister! Did you not fucking see her!? That friend of yours doesn't have respect worth shit.” Some noisy people came to crowd at the door and Jaebum was livid, Yoongi was exposing him in front of everyone. Humiliating him more and more by the second.

“You're one cocky bastard to come into my house talking shit. If she was about to get screwed then she had it coming. And we’re not blood, it's step-sister.” Jaebum had absolutely no sympathy for you, his own family was like nothing to him.

“Fuck you!” Yoongi threw a punch so hard, he will have that bruise for months. He opened your bathroom door, seeing you crying at the sink. Without a word he grabbed your hand, dragging you out of this hell hole.

“Y-yoongi...wait-” You struggled to get it out. Inevitably you gave up trying to explain, you followed him to his car with your head down. You got in the passenger's side and he drove off.

“You're staying over my place tonight.” That's all he said.

He had to be going at least 15 miles over the speed limit.

His jaw was clenched tight, his grip on the steering wheel was like iron. You couldn't imagine what he might be thinking, you looked at him again. He's never looked better than he did right now, why was that? You couldn't figure it out, maybe there was something about his eyes, they were so focused.

There were dry tear stains on your face, your hair was a mess and you could feel the bruises from where that guy had hit you. Yoongi pulled into a driveway, turned off the car and got out. You watched him walk around so he could open your door. You grabbed your backpack, following him to the front door. When he opened it up to you shyly walked in.

“Hyung?” Namjoon walked out of his room. “I thought you were-”

“Y/N is staying the night.” Yoongi waved to his roommate and you tried to shield your face as you scurried behind him. Namjoon saw you though, there were hundreds of scenarios running through his head.

Yoongi turned on his room light and went to his drawers. He had a very tidy room. “Here.” He handed you a t-shirt and some sweat pants. “They'll be a little big but they're still comfortable; this room gets cold at night anyway.”

“Oh- I can sleep on the couch, really...I don't mind...” You swallowed thickly, standing nervously.

He ignored your suggestion and rubbed the back of his neck. “My bathroom is right there.” He pointed before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

He walked to the kitchen, grabbed a beer and went to the couch.

“What happened?” Namjoon walked over, it was obvious he was upset.

“Huh...” He sighed. “Her brother is an asshole.” Yoongi took a swig of his drink.

“Can you elaborate?” Namjoon plopped down in the recliner.

“I drove her home from her job. When we got to her place her brother was home and he threw a party or whatever the fuck that tacky mess was. She went inside to get me an aspirin but she was taking forever, so I went to check on her...some guy was on her, she was crying and- I knocked him out. Her brother didn't even give a fuck either, the bastard said she had it coming. I wanted to kill him Joon...I really did.” He was calming down but the mere thought was still disturbing—infuriating.

“Wow, that's a lot to take in...is she okay?” Namjoon looked at Yoongi’s closed door.

“I think so, I dragged her out of her room and told her she was staying here tonight, I guess I probably should've asked but it wouldn't have been safe to leave her there.” He shook his head, tilting up his bottle to take another gulp.

You cracked open his room door and peeked out. He kind of smiled when he saw you with his clothes on. The pants were far too big for you, his long sweats and shirt engulfed your small frame.

“Hi Namjoon," You greeted him, "Um, Yoongi, I really don't mind taking the sofa...”

“Take the bed Y/N, we're not arguing on this.” He walked past you, cracking the door behind him “I'm gonna shower real quick.” You sat on his bed as he got some clothes and went to the shower.

When he opened the bathroom his hair was wet, his face was flushed and supple—he looked so soft and young.

“Are you okay? I'm sorry about what happened...” He said standing at the door, drying his hair.

“I don't know what to do anymore, Yoongi...I can't tell my mom, it'll only make her upset, she's been through too much. But he's always like that to me, it really hurts, you know? B- But none of his friends have ever-...and he didn’t try to stop him...” You held back your tears. His heart was breaking, he was angry at himself and that guy, your situation was so sad and he really couldn't do anything about it.

“I'm sorry.” He sat beside you, he didn't know what to say.

“It's not your fault...” You looked at him, twiddling your fingers like you always did when you were anxious. He grabbed your hand gently, squeezing it lightly.

“It’s not yours either. I just want you to know, you're safe here. If you need a place to stay you can always come here. I promise you, if it means you’ll sleep safely then I’m willing to give up my bed." You pressed your lips together, nodding slowly. Others think I can give everything, I think I can give everything but I can't. I've had a day that’s hard enough to let out at least a small sigh. Two gazes were looking at each other, but both gazes were entirely alone. Without much thought, you hesitantly leaned in to place a kiss on his lips. He responded naturally, opening wider to slip in some tongue. His lips—they were so cold, so why did it seem so warm? How could this feel just as right and perfect as the first time we've kissed. You were just melting into him, like ice. Frozen and silent. He held your hand tighter, sighing into you—he didn't want this moment to end. This was beautiful and his heart was so full, it was going to burst. Slightly he pulled away, out of breath. “Y/N...” He hugged you, but he couldn't feel you breathing. You were holding your breath, your chest tight with emotion and pain.

He spoke softly. “It’s okay to run out of breath sometimes, no one will blame you...” You wrapped your arms around his neck, his arms wrapped around your torso. You couldn’t help it, tears were falling from your eyes as you took a deep breath and sighed heavily.

Now don’t think of anything else Let out a deep sigh Just let it out like that.

Though I can’t understand your breath

It’s alright, I’ll hold you

153 notes · View notes

candidlycaro · 4 years

Text

Phoenix

Well, I haven’t been on Tumblr (besides a school project) since I was 15 years old. This used to be my place to vent, share my feelings, write creatively, and obviously post the impromptu emo-cutting GIF that this trash website used to be filled with nonstop. I’m just thankful that it’s popularity decreased and I was actually able to get this username? Kinda sick. You know what I mean.

SO-- what brings me back? There’s a lot of easy answers to this question and then I think there are deeper ones. The most obvious, glaring answer is that I got dumped last week. No, not the kind of dumped that makes me want to key his car (it’s a Honda, anyway) or punch him in the face, but the kind that makes you take a real big look at yourself on the inside. So I did that. I took everything that he said and I looked inside-- and for the first time in the entirety of our relationship I realized something. He was right. (If you’re reading this I promise this was a half-joke meant for dramatic effect, you deserve more credit where credit is due!)

But in all seriousness, I took a look at myself and I didn’t like what I saw. I saw a girl so consumed by negativity, fixation, and obsession that she forgot how to be happy. I looked in the mirror and saw someone whose idea of self care was skipping a meal or putting off smoking weed until AFTER doing something that was much more important (no friends, I am not getting rid of weed. I should. But right now it makes me laugh when I want to cry so I think I’ll be sticking to it for a bit).

Anyways, the point that I’m trying to make is that he really did me a favor. Not a favor as in like leaving me, in fact I’m pretty sure we’re on fine terms considering we almost broke his bed and my knee having sex the other day but I’m talking bigger picture. He actually cared about me enough to be like HEY FUCKER. YOU’RE NOT YOU ANYMORE. And for a bit I hated him for that-- I really did! I was like dude, fuck, two years of my life and you’re telling me this isn’t SERIOUS? But, when I realized he had signed up for something completely different it kind of clicked with me. He didn’t sign up for this or this version of myself, he signed up for the happy go-lucky Caro that lit up every room she walked into. Not to say that our SO’s shouldn’t be through thick and thin, but when thick becomes your entire lifestyle it’s different. And I got it. I seriously stood in front of my mirror this weekend, took a huge look, and was like well, fuck, who is this?

I don’t really know where she went, but I used to like actually enjoy life. I used to like doing activities, getting up early for workout classes (something I think I’d rather swallow literal shit for than do now), being incredibly kinky, cooking, taking my dog places-- I don’t know, point being, I was a person. Now all I seem to do is sit in my job from like 9:30 (fine, 10 if we’re being honest) to 7, maybe I have a good day if I’m lucky, I would leave, go to my (ex)boyfriends apartment and complain up the wazoo, smoke, sleep, and repeat. Is that ANY FUCKING WAY TO LIVE? I THINK NOT!

Like as much as what he said hurt me, he was completely right. Who the fuck was I? Why was I making both of us so unhappy and why couldn’t I at least see it? And I think the most hurtful question or the one that pains me the most rather is why did it take me so long to realize? Because it’s not like he never told me or gave me the chance to change, he really did. But I didn’t want to change and I wasn’t ready to. I was content being that type of person for some reason and didn’t really realize what was at stake.

And it wasn’t just the relationship that was at stake-- if it was then the whole point of this post or whatever would be so fucking dumb. I didn’t realize that MY LIFE WAS AT STAKE. I’m 22 why the FUCK am I hung up, sad, complaining nonstop, wasting my life smoking it away (once again, I love you weed but only in doses. Like crack!-- kidding. kind of) instead of having amazing sex with someone I was so infatuated by, getting in the best physical shape of my life (I was an exercise science major, after 25 shit goes DOWNHILL!), spending time with family friends and just enjoying. I actually started hating GOING OUT too which like if you know me you know I’m not a huge drinker but I always was down to go out and just like socialize? What happened to that?

Bottom line: shits gotta change. And like I kind of wish it could be one of those self-discovery things where I’m like “what do I need to change? I’ll do it and find myself randomly in Thailand with the elephants, ah!”-- but I know exactly what I need to change. And I’ve made some INTENTIONS.

1. Appreciation

Something me and my (ex)boyfriend agreed on heavily was that we took each other for granted. When we spent time together we’d just be there on our phones, not really appreciating and recognizing how lucky we both were to be in the presence of someone that loves you. That lack of appreciation turned into resentment, and I don’t want that to happen in any of my relationships-- family, friends, lovers, whatever. I won’t let that happen again. I want everyone in my life to know that I appreciate them, I want to be present with them. I don’t want to go on my phone when I’m at dinner with friends, I want to give my parents all the attention they deserve, and frankly I want everyone in my life to know they’re loved. Ex boyfriend included.

2. Motivation

I don’t really know where this one went. When I was in kindergarten I remember kicking a middle schooler in the nuts simply because he told me I couldn’t go on the swing because I was a girl. My ultra feminist chic 5 year old self would kick ME in the VAGINA if she knew that I was acting like this. I am such a lucky, lucky girl with a loving family, friends, and more. I’m smart, I’m beautiful, I know my self-worth and most importantly-- I know that I can succeed anything I put my mind to. Why am I fucking afraid of yoga, or running, or failing. It’s time to get the fuck up and do it. Did I go to yoga today? Yes. Did I cry twice when Mac Miller came on in the middle? Also yes. But I WENT. And that’s better than the day before!

3. Calm

Everyone who knows me knows I live breathe shit anxiety. It’s something I’ve dealt with my entire life and something I never really put in the effort to fix. Sure I’m on lexapro, I used to spoof my ex’s klonopon every once in a while and at one point I smuggled 100 xanax from Mexico. But like I’ve never gotten to the root of it. Yes, I know I have death-anxiety because my parents are literal dinosaurs. Yes, I know I’m insecure because my ADHD makes me seem annoying. I know all these things, and based off of all the psych classes I’ve taken in the past I could probably hit the nail on the head but I’m not a professional. It’s time to stop self-diagnosing, fixating, and get some damn help. Maybe if I wasn’t so stressed and pushed that stress onto everyone else everyone in my life would be happier? I know my ex definitely would be.

4. Work is what it is-- work. It’s not your life

As mentioned above, I live breathe and shit anxiety. I also live breathe and shit my job and it’s time for that to stop. I don’t give two shits anymore if I had a bad day, if someone’s trying to cause shit or my boss is a bitch. At the end of the day I’m there to get money? If the opportunity cost of my happiness versus my paycheck is at such a huge discrepancy it’s time to rethink careers. Not saying I’m quitting my job, but I need to learn to start leaving work at work. They don’t pay me after I go home so I shouldn’t think about it. Easier said than done but I need to work on it.

5. Acceptance

Let’s be real-- I have an acceptance problem. I refused to accept it when my ex left me, I refused to accept it when my dad got sick (I actually fully never visited him in the hospital after he had a stroke which is one of my most embarrassing secrets. That one felt good to get out!), and sometimes I just blatantly refuse to accept things I can’t change.

As my wise mother Charlene once said,

You can’t make someone call you back who doesn’t want to.

You can’t make someone love you who doesn’t.

And most importantly, you can’t change what you can’t change. But what you can change is YOU. And that’s exactly what I intend to do.

It’s been Day 1 of this journey, and it definitely wasn’t easy. I cried 6 times, ate two donuts, almost passed out in crescent moon pose, heard my ex’s favorite song in MY YOGA CLASS and started crying in front of a group of randos, but I got up. I went to work. I got on the mat and was present. I focused on my breathing. I cried my eyes out to Fleetwood Mac, Selena Gomez, & Lady Gaga all in one day. Weird combination but it’s fine. Will Day 2 be easier? Probably not-- but it’s not supposed to be. Changing and molding yourself isn’t supposed to be easy. If it was then every single time me and my ex had this same exact conversation we would’ve changed. But we didn’t. I know this is going to be hard-- probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But it will also be the most worth it.

-Caro

0 notes

skylandmountain1013 · 7 years

Text

Agents of Shield fic- learning to be

Welp. Happy hiatus folks.

Show of hands, who else is losing their mind?

Title: learning to be

Summary: She doesn’t know how to fix problems she doesn’t remember causing. (PG-13ish.)

Post-framework arc. My guess is as good as yours.

Check it out on AO3.

She leaves the lab and all she can think about is getting to a shower. A real shower, not the antiseptic wipe downs of quarantine.

She smells like blood and dirt and adhesive and the distinct scent of melting circuits and skin. (She reminds herself it wasn’t real skin.)

It needs to be gone.

She’s not surprised that Coulson is half a step behind her, and she’s not surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

“—you haven’t been cleared. You should be back there resting.”

“I’ve done nothing but rest for the past 5 weeks. I’m fine.” She just needs to clean up. She sees the door to her bunk up ahead.

“We aren’t aware yet of the potential side effects of long term exposure to the Framework-“

“Yeah. Simmons made that crystal clear. Multiple times. If I’m going to go crazy, I’d like to do it on my own terms.” She punches in the code to the door and wipes the residual smudges away in disgust.

He’s still in step behind her as she gathers a fresh set of clothes. She thinks she may burn the ones she has on.

She’s managed to tune him out—mostly. The shower is in front of her and she whips around to face him. The aroma of grease in her hair is overpowering. “How long do you plan on following me?”

The flush creeps up his neck as he takes in his surroundings. He rubs a hand through his hair and stumbles his words. “I’m sorry. You’re an adult. I just—it’s been—“

She doesn’t have the energy to decipher him. Not right now. “You can stay. I don’t care. Hand me that towel and turn around.”

He obliges and thank god she’s under the spray of the water moments later and it’s the best damn thing she’s ever felt in her life. She lets the steam and water and soap engulf her and she starts to feel human.

She watches his hazy form through the shower door, slumping to the ground with a sigh. Guilt creeps in. “I promised Simmons I would have everyone keep an eye on me. Report out with any changes in behavior or personality.”

The water ricocheting off the walls make his voice sound even more muffled than she’s sure it is. “You were gone while you were still here. And I couldn’t figure it out. And then I did, and then we were both gone. It’s hard to sort what’s reality right now.”

She opens the door far enough to stick her head out. The clean air assaults her.

“Phil.” He tugs at his tie. “I’m real. You’re real. We’re real.”

He cranes his neck up at her. “Okay.”

ii.

The snap of tape on leather is comforting.

Jab. Jab. Cut.

She breathes heavily, focusing on the sound of the blood rushing through her ears. It reminds her that it’s been too long since her muscles have had this much use.

Kick. Punch. Duck.

She hears footsteps enter the room, and the cadence tells her exactly who it is. He hops up on the exercise hutch with a thud.

Jab. Punch.

“Fitz needs your data on what your Framework experience was.”

“I told him I don’t have any recollection of it.” The bag stills and she rolls her head in a slow circle. The pops of her vertebrae are welcoming.

She doesn’t want to talk about this.

“You’re the only one who can’t remember what happened in there. Something isn’t adding up.”

“There’s nothing to add up. I got kidnapped. The original rescue mission failed. The secondary one didn’t.”

She won’t tell him about the conversations that won’t get out of her head—her voice saying things she doesn’t remember. Saying things she would never say. The voices of the rest of the team- sounding like them but clearly not being them.

“May. We all had a traumatic experience in there. You can talk about it. You need to talk about it.”

She finally turns to face him. “I had a shrink once. Didn’t end well. Don’t need another.” The anger lacing her words is misguided but she can’t let it go.

His eyes widen and when he speaks, she hears the measured clip of his sentences and she knows she’s hit a nerve. “If you think I’m suggesting this as a coworker or as part of some goddamn Shield protocol, then-“

“-then what, Coulson?”

The slam of the door is the only response.

iii.

2 am is well beyond the point of protocol, so she lets herself into his room without hesitation.

He’s awake (she knew he would be), and if he’s surprised to see her, he doesn’t let it show.

Instead he feigns indignation. “What if I was indecent?”

“You weren’t.”

“I could have been!”

“Alright.” She slides out of her slippers and shuffles onto the bed.

She’s struck by how old he looks. Hair greying at his temple, worry lines etched across his face- although she’s sure she doesn’t look any better.

“I can’t sleep,” she says plainly.

“I know the feeling.”

He asks if it’s nightmares, and she shakes her head no immediately. Because it’s not. She’s dealt with those long enough to know how to get through them- and it’s been decades since she’s needed to reach for him in the darkest corner of the night.

“I have these pictures in my head- things I’ve done, places I’ve been, but I know they’re not real. It’s like watching a movie that you don’t remember filming.”

He nods and stretches his arms above his head. She focuses on how his shirt sneaks across his midsection. “It’s the LMD link. Radcliffe made sure that there was always a neural connection between the LMD and it’s-” he thinks before the next words- “carbon copy. So even though you didn’t live those events, they’re in your memories.”

“That’s real fucked up,” she says with a sigh. “Even for us.”

“Tell me.” It’s a quiet plea—not the demand of earlier in the week.

She props herself up against the headboard and focuses on the world she only knows from her thoughts. “A lot of you and me. Mostly good. Talking. We never talk.”

He nods, confirming her description. She thinks he looks wistful. She’s not sure.

She closes her eyes as the film in her mind leads to it’s climax—the one that’s been keeping her up. “I think I pulled a gun on you.”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus, Phil.”

He lays his glasses on the nightstand and starts rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if it helps, but I think I did the same to you.”

She’s seen pieces of that as well- Blood. A promise of no pain. Lies. Love. Sacrifice. An explosion. Choice.

A faint shudder runs through his body and she knows he’s seeing it too.

“What the hell did we do to each other?”

She doesn’t have an answer. She doesn’t know how to fix problems she doesn’t remember causing.

His answer is to lift the corner of his comforter and offer it to her. “Stay?”

She doesn’t need to. But she also can’t think of a reason not to want to. She slides down and he forces off the lights.

Once her eyes adjust she watches the rise and fall of his chest until hers follows suit.

iv.

The microwave dings and she knows her father would disapprove. (Melinda. Good Asian food comes from the heart. Not square white boxes.) But it’s been a long day and the Kung Pao Chicken in the fridge looked too good to pass up.

The first bite of rice barely passes her lips when the couch sags next to her.

“Hey.” Coulson is holding a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

“Wednesday night drinking? I think I approve.”

He shrugs and places everything down on the table. “You never had that drink. Sorry it’s not the Haig,” he winces. “Robots.”

She reads the label on the bottle and gives him a look. It may not be Haig, but it’s still top shelf.

“Mace never changed the combination to the storage locker in his office,” He explains, shrugging. “Besides. He owes me. He just doesn’t realize it.”

“Well now I definitely approve.”

He eyes the take out box. “Golden Dragon?”

She nods, so he grabs her fork and spears himself a peapod.

“Hey, that’s mine!”

“Actually I think it’s Mack’s.”

She grabs the fork out of his mouth. “I could kick his ass if needed to.”

They trade bites until the box is empty. She reaches for the liquor on the table.

The bottle is opened and drinks are poured and she asks what they are drinking to. This is his idea, after all.

His answer is thoughtful. “Humanity. Reality. Moving forward.”

Glasses clink and she takes a sip. She tastes smoke and spice and warmth.

A contented silence sits between them as they both finish their drinks.

“Do you think it’s true? That even though the LMD’s were machines, they were acting on our intrinsic wants and needs?”

“The science makes sense,” He offers. “But I studied history, so..”

He’s studying his empty glass and she realizes that the space between them has disappeared.

So she makes a choice.

He tastes like soy sauce and toothpaste and home.

Her world is on fire.

They’re in an air handler room of all places, because whatever has finally clicked between them has turned them into fucking teenagers who can’t make it to privacy. She doesn’t think he minds. She certainly doesn’t.

His mouth is hot against her collarbone and she feels her keys jabbing into the small of her back from being pinned against some pipes and she momentarily wonders if these pipes are important, what they control on the base and then his hand moves lower and she doesn’t wonder anymore.

“Jesus,” he hisses, as her hands skim under his shirt. She scratches his hair and circles his navel and closes her eyes in brief reverence as her fingers dance over the puckered skin of his scar.

He moves closer (she’s really not sure how that’s possible) and she feels how hard he is and he isn’t hiding it and so she positions her thigh between his and rubs just enough to create some friction.

“Old man,” he manages to grunt. “Need a soft landing spot.”

She moves away and immediately misses the connection.

A quick sweep of the hallway and she pulls him behind her, darting through the corridor. Her room is closer.

The door whooshes open.

They stumble towards the bed and she welcomes his skin.

#philinda #philinda fanfiction #agents of shield fanfic #agents of shield #phil coulson #melinda may #aos

31 notes · View notes

stuprosu · 7 years

Text

august 17th, 2017 10:38 PM

this is my first post of 2017. how fucking wild. so much has happened. i can do it by month, i am guessing? but i need to create a record. i need to write down my thoughts. lately, it has become too much, to think. i am angry all the time.

so, the last post was in november? i guess we’ll start in december, then, dear diary. it’s gonna be a long one.

[december] nothing too wild happened this month. final grades, wild snowstorms driving home. decent grades, no cuts, but they were still healing, noticeable. christmas, coming home for the holidays, almost a month off of school. got a new jacket. things between mom and i were /good/. i splurged on her for christmas. i genuinely loved her then.

[january] school started back up again. these were genuinely good months. classes were fine. only stresses were grades and finding a job. little luck with applications. hung out with renee and cade all the time, every day. new friends, more board game club. things were genuinely good. came home most weekends to see family. didn’t really notice anything deteriorate. i wasn’t around, though. cuts are healing fine.

[february] things are still grand. still don’t have a job but it helped me balance what money i had. went without groceries but you don’t need those. i guess the first descent into madness was cade dropping out of school. i love her so much and she left to be with her mom. i understood. but i cried a lot. i missed her so much. i still miss her. but i still had renee. nothing else major went on. nothing on jobs. no new cuts

[march] then, the only thing wrong with march was cade’s absence and the lack of a job. but i wasn’t home to see what was going on. dad got poison ivy really bad. mom’s highly allergic so he slept on the couch. mom started working out heavily. thing about my mom is she’s “disabled”. blames her handicapped on a car wreck 20 years ago that fucked up her nerves and gave her RSD. maybe that part’s true. but we’ve spent the last 10 years taking care of her. well, my brothers, garryck (17) and toby (13) and my dad have taken care of her. fixing all her meals, picking up shit she drops, bringing her her blanket, paying for all of her medicine. waiting on her hand and foot. after her ketamine infusions and her peak of addiction to pain killers, my mom had a commode set up in her room. my father would wipe her ass for her. change tampons. horrendous, awful shit that you only do for the ones you love without hesitation. my father is so in love with my mother. it breaks my heart. but yeah, enough history. march, dad starts sleeping on the couch for poison ivy. march, i apply for a job at a local library. i get an interview. i get the job. i start in april.

[april] i work now alongside my classes. only two weeks of class anyways. work is good, keeps me busy. still clinging to renee. dad is still sleeping on couch, though the poison ivy is gone. they dodge my questions of why. the love i have for my mother is dissipating. that love is such a fragile thing, between my mother and i. my family always took care of her, but i never did. i never did anything for her. she was a burden, a nuisance, and inconvenience and a waste of my time and would eventually die. she manipulated my family into doing things she could do herself. she was enabled. enabled over and over again. but never by me. which is why our relationship plummeted, never was positive.

i suffered the verbal abuse, the attacks after her highs on pain meds, or lack of, or a combination of those and the bipolar and just our ticking bomb of a fight that we woke with every morning. my dad would defend me. middle school was worst. 2013 was bad. even my sister was dragged in, asking me if i had my headphones on so i couldn’t hear the horrible, awful things my mother said about me. i lied. there was no music playing. i heard it all. i can’t remember what now, but perhaps i’ve suppressed it. perhaps it’s killing tiny parts of me still today. maybe i’m being melodramatic. maybe i’m not being dramatic enough.

but. this love i accumulated for my mother during those first six months of college. peaking in december. every mistreatment towards my father chips away. chips away, now that i look back, on everything. everything. april, i think, danielle had her mom, mary, ask my mom for danielle’s tablet back, that i had. i never properly paid her. we’re poor and forgetful, and it’s been since 2014 that i’ve had this tablet. danielle is just being petty. i told my mom to tell mary i don’t know where the tablet is. my mom knows i still use this tablet. i don’t ask her what she tells mary. this information is relevant.

[may] here comes the hell month. the height of my horror. the height of destruction. dear reader, you probably have a guess what is about to happen. everyone is in a tizzy. my dear brother is graduating highschool. he is awarded the alumni scholarship. posts of love and adoration on facebook from not one, but both parents. something i could have never achieved. i think i got a card, a hug. some permission for an ear piercing. regardless, i know the difference. but i love my brother and my father too much to cause a stir.

my brother has always been my mother’s favorite, but i don’t really care about her opinion. i’ve never held it in high regard. this is why i tell her important things. her thoughts do not scare me; her reactions, her feelings. they don’t affect me as my father or my aunt’s might. anyways. little brother graduates. all the proper family comes and gifts exchanged. all is well. i believe it was may seventeenth. my aunt came up to watch one of toby’s baseball games. my sister was there. it got rained out. we came home with pizza and my brothers, my sister, my aunt and my parents all killed each other. my aunt knew weeks prior. had stayed the night the day before. the night before i told her my worries. my dad had lost his job. we had lost our insurance. my knee hurt to walk on and i didn’t want to go to the doctor because we were so poor and had no money for trivial things like doctors. my aunt, as she always does, always has, reassured me. told me i would always be taken care of, no matter what. she told me she’d always love me, always.

she loved my brothers and i like her own children. when my mother was at her sickest, my aunt stepped in after she checked out. my aunt was phenomenal despite all the horrible shit she has been through. she has the most amazing and loving and accepting heart. i have never known anybody else in my entire love to love me as openly and as fiercely as she does. as zusak said. she steps on my heart. she makes me cry. but in the best ways. but what did my aunt know, you ask? she knew about my mother’s intentions. she knew why my mother was exercising and losing weight, her newest diets and protein shakes, her sudden purchase of a car. well, my father’s sudden purchase of a car. we didn’t need another car. my mother got her driver’s license. and then my father lost his job. and her sudden revamp on life came to a halt. but, after my brother graduated, she started right up again. and now it is the seventeenth. i wouldn’t get full marks for chronological placement if this were a paper, i’ll tell you that. i don’t care. you get the point. but here’s the bombshell. we are sitting in the living room, us all. my father tells us, “there’s no other way to put this. *good minute of silence* your mother and i are getting a divorce.”

that’s your big reveal? your secret, lex? yeah yeah, shut up. tons of kids have parents that get divorced. my own sister has divorced parents. ashlee, 25 now. half sister, share the same mom. she understands more than the boys. my mom never treated her well, either. blamed my sister, at 15, for wanting to live with her dad. practically abused her. partied during her infancy and dumped ashlee on her ex-husband. things i never knew, things my sister told me. things that watered the gnarly old tree that embodied that feeling of hatred towards my mother. but. we talked about the divorce, us all. my youngest brother and i cried. my mom cried at seeing us cry. i was angry about stupid shit then, and not the actual cause. i was going to miss the nuclear family, the complete celebrated holidays and birthdays and not having to shuttle around on thanksgiving or how to make one parent happy without hurting the other. i knew what came with a divorce and i didn’t want it. i wanted one thing of stability. college wasn’t stable, relationships aren’t stable, few things were. my family, my car, my cat.

i needed these things. but one of these things i couldn’t rely on. i could no long rely on that whole family unit, the unification of my parents in the hardships of life. instead, i got to ask my father while my mother stepped out to smoke if he wanted the marriage, if this was all mutual. i watched my father choke back his tears and tell me it wouldn’t be fair if he explained. he later told my sister he did not want the divorce and that he was still in love with my mother. he didn’t need to tell me. his tears confirmed it. my aunt held me. but everything was unraveling. everything. and i told them something i haven’t even recorded here in these entries.

i need to be more honest. college was fun, but i struggled. i struggled a lot. i don’t know why i decided to carve into my thighs with that rusted boxcutter. it wasn’t sharp enough for one solid, smooth cut. i had to drag that point over a cut and over a cut and over a cut and over a cut until it was finally deep enough that it bleed and i could make that trench longer in my own skin. cuts in the shower and in the bathroom and i never allowed them to heal. no, the long scabs came peeling off and i pulled them off despite the pain. but after a while i didn’t notice. i don’t know why i began. it baffles me still. it’s not a coping mechanism. i still haven’t cut myself since december. but. i told my family. and they didn’t know how to deal. my mom suggested therapy. my dad remained silent. he has never spoken about it. never. my sister has a few times. but. i couldn’t remain in that house. i had days off work.

i went back with my aunt and we talked for a good, long while. about everything. the divorce, the cutting, my depression and religion and past marriages and the future and our lives and how much we fucking loved each other so much that i cried at her words, at being loved so fervently and without hesitation. i love her so much. i don’t know how i’d make it through all of this without her. but i come back home. my aunt has reassured me once more that the divorce will make my parents better people, happier people. i believe her. my mom looks for a place to move. i go to work. dad finds a job. garryck works. mom doesn’t. mom exercises. mom is moody. the 24th of may i get curious. i want to know what happened between my mom and mary, danielle’s mother, and the conversation had about the tablet. my mom left her laptop open and unlocked. i open facebook. i look for the conversation with mary bailey. i cannot find it. all the conversations are only two or so months old. my mom has had her facebook since 2007 and i know she’s kept inboxes.

i’ve been a filthy snoop before, but never more than 2 or 3 minutes. this is different. the top two most recent conversations are both from men i do not know. one of the conversations mentions my siblings and i. i click on it. they are from a brad letts. he is asking how the kids took the divorce. my mom replied with “my boys are shaken but fine but my girls aren’t talking to me, which is expected.” who is this man and why is he asking about my siblings and i and the divorce? who the fuck? i scroll up to see previous conversations. i see sexts. i see explicit sexts. my mother and this man have been sexting each other for weeks, maybe more. there’s only so much i can allow myself to read. my mother is a filthy cheating whore. my parents have not divorced yet. the vows are still active. i go back to the inbox and click on the other man who i don’t recognize. less tame. but my mother sends him sexual pictures, flirtatious, clearly wanting to go and see him. he lives in california. i kept their names in a memo on my phone. i know these two men’s names and the date i found out. i am enraged. i exit out of facebook. i clear the history. i put the correct window back up. i move the mouse back to its position.

i let this knowledge fester within me. i am beyond angry. my mother hurt the man i love the most in this world for some shitty fucking guys on facebook. men who know that she is married and has children. my mother is a filthy, cheating, lying bitch who broke the heart of the man who would walk the ends of the earth for her and back and there and back again and again. my mother can fucking die in a hole. as far as i am concerned, she is not my mother.

[june] i wreck my car on the 12th. some asshole put gravel on asphalt and i spun out and hit a tree. i sell it for 250 bucks. i buy another for 425. it’s dirty and smells but it does the trick for now. this is getting to become a chore to type this all out. but i have to finish. i need to express. i don’t know when memorial day was. i think it was may. oh well, we’ll list it under june. we went down to kansas city, my brothers and dad and i, to visit my grandparents. they asked us how we were handling the divorce. my grandmother is angry with my mom. i am angry with my mom. it is a good combination. we both rant about my mother. i don’t tell her anything major, just what my grandmother already knows. we come back that night. my dad has a vet friend down there that gave us food for our dogs, cats, and ferrets, and even flea treatments. we’re still pretty poor so we accept it. the vet friend is an old friend of dad’s, back in highschool. my dad goes into see my mom. he closes the door. they begin yelling. my mom accuses my dad of cheating with this vet friend. my dad tells her that amy, the vet friend, has never been his girlfriend and never will be. my mom accuses my dad of breaking his vows. my mom knows that romances now are breaking the vows. she is a filthy filthy hypocrite. she can fuck off. i hate her projecting. it was after the 12th that i told my sister about my mom. it was over the phone, casual mention. and i elaborate. and we’re both raging. we’re both angry. we need to tell my aunt. my aunt is the only person on this earth that knows my mom and knows my dad. my aunt is my mother’s sister. her name is shanna, the one that loves me so much. the closest thing i’ve had to a mother. june and july blur together.

[july] the 12th of july i take my brother’s car (i did not purchase my new one yet) and go to leavenworth. the night previously i had told toby that i was going to leavenworth. i didn’t think he would tell my mom, but he did. the next day, my mom asks what i’m going to do in leavenworth. an easy lie. just going to hang out with ashlee, go to dinner, you know. we didn’t go to dinner. we went to my cousin’s breawna’s house, my aunt shanna’s daughter. my sister tells bre what my mom has done. i am going to tell my aunt. we sit down and i tell her. i tell her everything. my aunt is enraged. she knows one of the men. she, my mom, and him have been friends since highschool, apparently. my aunt is angry at herself, for thinking that her sister was genuinely getting better for her own sake, but in all actuality it was just a guy. my aunt has to go outside. she can’t go outside. everytime she tries, she comes back in and says something else about how angry she is. finally she gets outside to smoke. she comes back in and we talk for a while about everything. they tell me how my dad cared for my mom when she was sick, how my aunt cared for her, how everybody was manipulated by her. i cry because it hearts my heart so much, how after everything my dad did, it is just thrown back in his face like it was nothing. seventeen years, down the drain.

but i have to keep a smile. i have to save face. the plan is for me to confront my mom. to tell her what i know. my aunt will be there to make sure my mom does not verbally or physically attack me. then, i will give my mother an ultimatum. tell my dad about the cheating or i will tell him in my words. we haven’t done that yet, but i need to. christ, i need to. i cannot deal with my mother sharing pictures on facebook, how she’s become a better woman by cutting off the poison, how she’s been horribly heartbroken but now she’s risen from the ashes. all the negativity most definitely directed towards my father. everyone can see it. my aunt and my sister know, even my 13 year old brother has confided this to me. my mother moved out of our house july 28th. a few days before, we drove to atchison together to look at her new house. god, i smile looking back on this. she asks me how i am handling the divorce. i say fine, just dealing with it. she begins to cry. she says she doesn’t know what comes next. she has only been a wife and mother for 25 years, half of her life. she doesn’t know what to be now. she is crying in the seat next to me. she looks at me. she tells me she is afraid that her moving and the divorce will have an affect on our relationship, that she will never get to see me and that what we had will be gone. i assure her that won’t happen and that i’ll always be around.

i am a good liar.

it brings me solace, knowing how i can completely and utterly destroy my mother’s life after she ruined my father’s and mine. i will make her known. i will stop my father from sending her money. i will keep anybody from giving a shit about her. they’ll know you, liar. i used to regret my actions. but know this now.

i am relieved.

i have an excuse to cut you away, you're poisonous and wretched. you were nothing but a burden and a blight and you can rot with that dog i bought in that house the government bought. you are the definition of a parasite and a leech. keep your prayers. and you want a relationship with me?

[august] my sister goes to my cousin’s baby shower. my mother is there. the two exchange pleasantries. my mother informs my sister that she believes i am smoking pot. she tells my sister that i am spreading rumors that she is cheating. she heard this from the mailwoman. who the fuck is the mailwoman? i have told nobody besides my sister, my cousin, my aunt, and my two friends, who would not tell anybody. i don’t think you realize how big a secret can eat away at you, at your mentality, on your outlook on life. this burden is going to bury me. but, my mother is already on the defense. i need to hurry it up. i need to get in contact with my aunt. we need to burn this bridge.

my next entry will hopefully have that encounter recorded. no, it will. i won’t make one until i have.

things are changing, dear diary. let’s see how this all pans out.

#journal #ninth post #august 17th #2017

0 notes

kp-reading-blog · 7 years

Text

Dark Times Ahead: A Short Story by Lincoln Cole

Dark Times Ahead is a short story set in the world of Raven's Peak by Lincoln Cole. It serves as a tie in between two different series and fills in some background about the relationship between Arthur and Abigail.

If you want to check out Raven's Peak and find out what happens later, click here!

About Dark Times Ahead

Arthur finally believes that the life he has carved out for himself and Abigail is coming together. Things are settling down and starting to make sense, and it is time to put his past to rest.

But, it isn't his past he needs to worry about. There is a darkness in Abigail that is beginning to manifest in strange and terrifying ways. He doesn't know how to protect her from her past, but he knows he will need to do something soon if he is going to protect her.

A Message from Lincoln Cole

This short story takes place several years before Raven's Peak and sets up the world prior to what happens in Raven's Peak. It introduces Arthur and Abigail and helps to explain why Arthur did what he did to protect the little girl he thought of as his daughter.

Dark Times Ahead

“How has she been doing?” Frieda asked.

“She’s progressing very well in her studies,” Arthur replied.

As he spoke, he glanced out the front window of his rental car and toward the hotel room on the third floor where he and Abigail were staying. He was sitting alone in his car and talking to Frieda over the phone, but he half expected to see Abigail’s face in the window, watching him leave.

She wasn’t there, though. No doubt she was watching cartoons right now, or whatever it is the eleven-year-old girl did while he was gone. He didn’t really like leaving her alone, but sometimes when things turned dangerous he didn’t have much of a choice.

Frieda was in South Africa right now, working with a group of Hunters to establish a new base of operations. She was working to expand their network and continue hunting down the remaining cells of the Ninth Circle. It had been years before the cult had tried any aggressive actions against the Council, and right now it felt like they had them on the ropes. Frieda was just trying to press her advantage and finish them off.

Arthur knew, though, that the cult was dangerous. They might be down, but they certainly weren’t out. It felt almost as though they were biding their time and waiting for something to happen.

He was in Ohio with Abigail, just outside of Millersburg. It was the middle of summer, but not that hot outside. It was, in fact, turning out to be an all-around pleasant afternoon.

He wasn’t currently on any assignments that had brought him out here, but as far as Abigail knew he was here hunting down information about a local demon. He hated lying to her, but he didn’t want her to know his true reason for coming out here into the middle of nowhere in Ohio.

Over these last several years he had begun focusing heavily on Abigail’s training and education. He wanted to acclimate her to the life of a Hunter, and he wanted to be very careful that he didn’t overwhelm her.

“That’s not what I meant,” Frieda replied.

“I know.”

“I mean…has she…?”

She didn’t finish the question. She didn’t have to, Arthur knew exactly what Frieda was talking about, even though he didn’t want to voice his concerns aloud. It was a problem he hadn’t even wanted to face until very recently, but he knew if he tried to avoid the issue she would continue pressing.

“Not since the last time,” he admitted. “I think it might have been a fluke.”

“Not likely. Things like that aren’t usually one-offs.”

“Nothing has happened since. Her temperament is completely back to normal. It might have just been something repressed coming out.”

“Things like that don’t just happen, Arthur. Where there is smoke, there is usually fire.”

“Usually, but not always.”

“Arthur…”

“In any case, I’m telling you that it is over.”

“She doesn’t remember?”

“No. Nothing. She has no idea anything ever happened, and it’s been over a year. If she was going to remember, I’m sure she would have by now.”

He heard Frieda sigh. “Good. Maybe you’re right and that was a one-time thing. You’ll let me know if she something else happens, though, right?”

“Yes. I’ll tell you if anything happens. But, Frieda, I think we’re in the clear now. Whatever happened was just stress induced. I was probably just pushing her too hard. She’s not a violent kid, and she doesn’t like hurting things.”

“I know, Arthur,” Frieda said, but he could tell in her voice that she didn’t completely believe him. “I haven’t told anyone on the Council about the incident, if you were worried about that.”

“I wasn’t. I trust you.”

“This isn’t exactly the sort of thing we should be keeping to ourselves, though. If the Council find out that we kept something like this from them, it’ll be worse than if we just admitted it and said we were watching her.”

“We will report this to them when there’s something to report, but until then they don’t need to know. Besides, you are on the Council and the leader of the Hunters, and I told you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“If they knew what happened…you know what they would do.”

“Which is why I haven’t told anyone,” she said. “But, Arthur, you said yourself: what Abigail did to that animal…it wasn’t something that people do on impulse. She spent hours torturing it.”

“It wasn’t her, and like I told you: it was a one-time thing. Whatever happened, it isn’t going to happen again.”

He wished he’d never told Frieda about it at all. When he found Abigail about eleven months ago with the squirrel he had been terrified. He’d known from the day he first saved her from the cult that there might be residual problems from her time with the Ninth Circle, but nothing had happened until that day in the woods.

He’d panicked and told Frieda, needing someone to talk to, but the event had never repeated itself. He thought now that it was just something Abigail needed to get out of her system, some manifestation of her trauma.

Of course, he knew that was the fatherly version he told himself, believing that nothing was wrong. Deep down, he knew that Frieda was right: where there was smoke, he would find fire.

Frieda hesitated on the other end of the phone. “I pray you are right.”

“Me too.”

“Are you going to tell her what she did?”

“Why? She doesn’t remember it even happening. She doesn’t even remember that day. Bringing it up would only upset her and make things worse.”

“Yeah, but she deserves to know—”

“She deserves to be happy,” Arthur interrupted. “After everything she’s been through, she doesn’t deserve for us to lose our trust in her over something so trivial.”

“OK,” Frieda replied. “I need to go. Let me know if anything changes.”

“I will,” Arthur said, then he closed the connection. He appreciated that Frieda was worried about Abigail, but he also worried that eventually her concern might turn into actual fear.

If she broke her word and told the Council what Abigail had done, they might re-instate their order to have her executed, and there would be nothing he could do to stop them. That would be the worst possible scenario, because he knew if he had to pick a side, he would pick Abigail’s.

He flipped the ignition over on his little rented Honda Accord and glanced once more at the window where Abigail was resting. They had gone for a run in the morning, followed by a few hours of exercise and sparring. She was upstairs watching television or napping, he knew, and wouldn’t expect to see him back for several hours.

He had told her before coming to Millersburg that he was on assignment and not to expect him back for several hours. She didn’t even think to question his motives: why would she? He’d promised her when he first rescued her from the Ninth Circle that he would tell her everything.

But, that had been six years ago and a lot of things had changed since then. Everything, in fact, had changed. He thought of her as his daughter, and this was his second chance to have a family.

How could he move on with his new family, though, if he hadn’t made peace with the one he lost? The problem was, there were certain parts of his life that he couldn’t really talk about with anyone, let alone with the innocent young girl he was trying to protect.

He slipped the car into gear and pulled out of the motel parking lot. After a few minutes he was on the freeway, listening to Bon Jovi and trying to keep his emotions in check. He’d only gone back one time since his family was murdered with Father Niccolo Paladina, and that hadn’t ended well. This time would be different. This time he was ready.

Six years later, and he was finally going home.

***

The family house, a place where he grew up and had planned to raise his family, was exactly how he remembered it after all of these years. The paint had faded and the grass outside was wild and uncared for, but just seeing the place brought back a sharp pang of memory and grief that made him feel sick.

There was a long driveway, nearly a kilometer, and it led up to the front door. He saw the old red barn sitting off to the right side of the property, next to the four and five acre fields where his family used to raise horses.

His daughter had loved horses. She loved to ride them and had sworn she would do it professionally when she was older. He insisted that if she wanted to learn how to ride horses, she would first need to learn how to care for them by feeding them and grooming them. He thought that would be enough to turn her away—after all, children weren’t known for their willingness to handle responsibility—but it had the opposite effect. She had spent every day caring for the animals and had become very proficient in riding them.

He would lean against the fence and watch his daughter ride around the field on the trotter she named Carmen, and she would smile over at him and he would smile back.

But, now she was murdered.

Now it was just an empty field, full of brown grass and memories. The fences were starting to fall apart with age and he doubted it would hold any animals without a lot of repair.

He doubted it would ever pen animals again.

He’d thought the memories wouldn’t be as bad coming here after so many years. Six years was a long time to be away, but now that he was back it felt like the murders had only just happened. His wife and daughter were stolen away from him, and it was his fault.

He brushed angrily at his cheeks and walked up toward the front door, listening to the stairs creak underfoot as he went. The door was locked, but he still had the key on his keyring. He clicked it open and went inside.

It was dusty and empty. It was also clean, he noticed, with no blood stains on the hardwood floor or signs that anyone had been murdered here. All of the furniture was covered in plastic, which surprised him. He hadn��t come back since the deaths, which meant someone else had been here since then.

Probably Mitchell. His brother was the only person he could think of who would have stopped by uninvited. He had fallen out of touch with his brother, and part of him was angry with Mitchell for what had happened to his family.

Mitchell was the one who brought him into this world. He traded in illicit goods and services and had introduced Arthur to Frieda. If it wasn’t for Mitchell, he never would have become a Hunter.

His family never would have been murdered.

But, he also wouldn’t have had a family if it wasn’t for Mitchell. His brother was the one that introduced him to his wife, Patricia. He had been the best man at his wedding and the godfather to his daughter. Without Mitchell, he would have had nothing to lose.

It wasn’t fair to blame Mitchell, he knew. It was his own arrogance and belief in his own power that had gotten his family murdered. He should have been there to protect them.

Still, even knowing Mitchell wasn’t responsible didn’t make it any easier to think about him. He’d written his brother out of his life after the murders simply because he was a reminder of the past.

***

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yep,” Abigail said, bounding off of the bed and grabbing her coat off of the chair. Arthur had returned from his visit to his old home feeling nostalgic but also quite a bit better. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had imagined. “Where are we going?”

“The gym,” Arthur said.

“Another trial membership?”

“Mmhmm,” he said.

“Who are we going to be this time?”

“Wayne Rogers and my adopted daughter Tiffany.”

“Tiffany?” Abigail asked, scrunching up her nose. “Why Tiffany?”

“Those are the ids we were given by Frieda,” Arthur replied with a shrug.

“Do I look like a Tiffany?”

“Do I look like a Wayne?”

She scrutinized him for a second. “You would make a passable Wayne.”

He laughed. “Come on. I want to get there before it is too late so we can sign up and get a workout in. This one is only free for a week.”

“Why do we keep signing up for free memberships? The Council would pay for a gym membership, wouldn’t they?”

“I wouldn’t pay money for a gym,” he said. “They are just trying to rob us. Plus, it’s free for a week.”

He didn’t add that the real reason they changed identities so often was to stay off of everyone’s radar. Once payments were being made and transactions existed they would be easier to track. He had no idea who might be looking for them, but he’d learned long ago that assuming no one was hunting for him was a bad idea.

Plus, he knew Abigail thought it was fun constantly pretending to be someone else. She wasn’t what he would have considered a normal kid: she loved to travel and experience new places. Most children would have hated the idea that they never spent enough time in one place to make any friends, but she didn’t seem to mind at all.

She was a loner, much like himself, and preferred being on her own anyway. He wondered, though, how much of her personality was a reflection of his. What would she have been like, he often wondered, if The Ninth Circle had never taken her?

Even if he was causing her to turn out differently than she might have, he was still going to see to her education. She was enrolled in an online charter school under yet another false name, and his only requirement was that she attend every class and complete every assignment. He wasn’t thrilled keeping her out of real schools, but with how much they were forced to travel it was necessary.

“Got your gym clothes?”

“Yep,” she said, grabbing a bag off the floor and stuffing some clothes into it. “Does this place have a pool?”

“Nope,” he said, “but they do have a sauna.”

“Ah, so I can’t go swimming, but I can torture myself?”

He chuckled and grabbed his own bag.

They headed out to the car and drove into town. Abigail turned on the radio and flipped between a few stations. She didn’t seem to find someone she liked, however, and eventually just turned it off.

By the time they got to the gym it was starting to get dark. The parking lot was mostly empty and they didn’t see a lot of people working out when they went inside.

It was a sectional gym, with a weight-training and machine section on the right side of the building, and then a boxing gym on the other side. A few people were walking on treadmills, and a kid a few years older than Abigail was working the heavy bags by the ring. An older guy, mid-fifties, was watching the kid: probably his coach.

Arthur led Abigail up the counter where a bored looking twenty-something girl was sitting. She perked up when they entered. She had blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and was wearing bright workout clothes. She looked very much like an extra in a workout tape.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Arthur said. “We are new in town and were hoping to sign up for memberships.”

“Great. Got your ID?”

“Yep,” he said, fishing the fake driver’s license out of his pocket. He had a dozen just like it back in the hotel room, hidden in a secret pocket in his luggage.

He passed it to the girl and she began the laborious task of entering information into the system. Abigail stood next to Arthur, looking around and fidgeting while she tried to be patient.

“Is she with you?” the girl asked, nodding toward Abigail.

“Yes. This is my daughter, Tiffany.”

“So, you’re doing a family membership?”

“Mmhmm.”

“If she wants, she can go on in and get started. I’ll get you both badges for the next time you stop by, but for now she won’t need it.”

“Great,” Abigail said, slipping away from the counter and heading into the gym.

“There’s a changing area with showers and restrooms in the back,” the girl said, but Abigail was already gone. She glanced back at Arthur. “In a hurry, huh?”

“Always.”

She asked Arthur several questions about his and Abigail’s false identities, marking things down in the computer. It took about ten minutes to get them fully enrolled, at which time she printed out their one week trial membership cards.

“After the week you will automatically be billed,” she said. “Just call us if you need to cancel for any reason.”

“Thanks,” he said, accepting the offered cards. He might call to cancel, but he wasn’t worried about it. The credit card he’d given her was also false and wouldn’t link to any bank and the number was a random one. By the time the gym tried to get in touch with him to correct the problem they would be long gone.

He slipped the cards in his pocket and glanced around, trying to spot Abigail. She wasn’t with the weightlifters or on any of the machines. When he finally spotted her, he saw her over by the boxing ring, wailing on a heavy bag.

He also saw that the coach was watching her, though she didn’t seem to notice. The man was looking at her with an expression of awe on his face.

Arthur had trained Abigail how to box, but only as a part of strength and fitness training. The entire sport was fairly useless when it came to being a Hunter. Surviving meant learning how to fight with every part of your body, not only your fists.

He made his way over to her, eyeing the trainer cautiously. “Keep your feet moving,” he said. “Circle the bag and never be caught flat-footed.”

“She has good form,” the coach said. “And technique.”

“Mmhmm,” Arthur replied, not looking at the man.

“You trained her?”

“Yeah. I trained her.”

“Put her into any tournaments?”

“No.”

The man fell silent, watching Abigail work the bags. She barely seemed to notice either of them, focusing entirely on the bag. She was sweating now, practicing her breathing.

Too focused, Arthur knew. She was a hard-worker and very diligent in training, but she rarely focused this heavily on anything in particular. He was always chiding her to push herself to her limits.

He had a bad feeling that something was wrong, but he couldn’t place his finger on exactly what it was.

The other boxer, the young man, had also stopped hitting his own bag and was watching Abigail. She’d managed to draw a lot of attention to her, which was something Arthur was striving to avoid.

“Come on, Tiffany,” he said. “Let’s head over to the weights.”

She didn’t respond, and Arthur winced. This was a fairly common problem for them: occasionally she would forget the false name she had been given, and he didn’t want to say her real name out loud. He took a step forward and gently touched her on the shoulder.

She spun around to face him, raising her hands up like she was about to attack. She took a swing at him, but he easily side-stepped it. Arthur opened his mouth to speak, to admonish her, but froze.

Her eyes were glowing red.

It was faint, but definitely there. Just as fast, though it was gone. Abigail stood there, gloves still up, but a confused expression on her face. Slowly, she lowered the gloves and gave him a questioning look.

Luckily, it seemed the other two hadn’t noticed her eyes glowing.

The coach whistled. “Got some spunk in her, huh?”

Arthur decided that he hated the guy. He was one of those typical macho men always ready to be a bully. He’d known the type his entire life, and he avoided them as much as possible.

“You OK?” he asked, ignoring the man and focusing on Abigail.

“Yeah,” she said, glancing around. “I think so.”

“Want to get in the ring?” the guy asked Abigail. “Maybe you could go a few rounds with David here. Blow off some steam on something that hits back?”

“No,” Arthur said. “She’s fine.”

“Oh, come on. David will go easy on her.”

Abigail glanced over at the man, frowning, and Arthur knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Not now,” Arthur said, speaking to the coach but staring at her. “Not today.”

“Suit yourself,” the guy said, shrugging and turning back to David.

Arthur grabbed Abigail’s shoulder and led her away from the heavy bags. He sat down on a bench near the back wall and started removing her gloves. His hands were shaking, but he forced himself to at least look like he was calm, despite how he was feeling inside.

“Why wouldn’t you let me spar?” she asked while he unclipped the first glove. “I could have handled him.”

“I know,” Arthur said. “But, we’re new to town. We need to blend in.”

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have hurt the kid or anything.”

Arthur didn’t reply. He finished taking her gloves off, staring at the ground, and then sighed.

“Just weight training tonight.”

She looked like she was going to object, and then just said: “Fine. Are you going to spot me?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Go get set up. I’ll be right over.”

She headed off toward the weight lifting equipment. Arthur sat there on the bench, trying to get control of his emotions. He couldn’t get the image out of his mind of her eyes glowing red.

After she’d butchered the squirrel a year ago he had chocked it up to a fluke, but now he couldn’t hide from it anymore. Something was wrong, and Abigail wasn’t fully in control of herself.

There was something inside of her, and if he wasn’t careful he would lose her forever.

Raven's Peak

Check out Raven's Peak by Lincoln Cole and find out what happens to Abigail and Arthur down the line!

Summer Solstice

One Summer Day short story is also featured in the Kindle Press Anthology Summer Solstice. You can get it from Instafreebie for free!

#Horror

0 notes