#you KNOW this plan did NOT work. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lizzieraindrops · 3 months

Text

Liminal - Chapter 3 (1901 words)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Ikora is terrified of losing Eris now that she has become the Hive god of vengeance. The long tension between them has finally been driven to breaking point.

Sometimes the scariest part of good old-fashioned monster-loving isn't the monster. Ikora's emotional dysfunctionality returns with a vengeance (ha) in the morning.

Warmth is the unexpected first greeting of returning consciousness. Ikora runs cool, ever since she had first touched the Void—not uncomfortably, but noticeably. It takes a lot to fluster her, in both temperature and demeanor.

The warmth is another human presence: the gentle heat of skin on hers, a more comfortable resting place than her own bed despite the irregularity of shape.

With a simultaneous flush and chill that catches her between flight and paralysis, Ikora half rolls, half falls off of—Eris. Of course.

Eris snaps to wakefulness with all the alacrity of a Hunter's reflexes. She is relaxing her grip on the hilt of a small knife at the bedside—where had that come from?—almost before Ikora registers that she has moved. Ikora draws back for another reason entirely, coiling herself around her own knees at the foot of the bed. The sheet tangles her legs.

Halfway through levering herself up toward sitting, Eris catches sight of Ikora and ceases movement. Free of their bandage at last, her three green eyes blaze bright in the dimness with only a stray lock of her short, straggly hair to intercept their fire. As ever, wisps of ink drip from her eyes like tears. Their dark tracks trail over round cheeks, returned to soft-skinned vulnerability once more—along with the rest of her. Eris' very human body lies there fearlessly despite the lacework of scars that spreads over every limb. For some reason that makes Ikora feel deeply afraid.

"Ikora. It's me."

It is, and oh, Ikora is overwhelmed by that fact, by her nearness, by her own memory of sharp satisfaction in the way claws had clutched Ikora's body close and by her awareness of deft hands that could do the same. By the way that singular voice as deep and resonant as the ocean itself is close enough to feel.

One supplicating hand extends toward Ikora. She cannot keep herself from flinching. Eris withdraws it and carefully lies back down.

Ikora remains silent. Words stopper her throat like something congealed in the neck of a bottle, leaving her mind to spin within like a trapped squall.

"Ikora?" The softer her voice becomes, the harder Ikora trembles. "I will not hurt you. I am sorry, if I—did I...?"

Ikora shakes her head violently. She has never been more keenly aware that a problem is entirely inside her own head. But she still cannot speak.

The knot between Eris' eyebrows eases somewhat. Only one of her brows has hair: the other's had apparently never regrown from the shiny scarring around her eyes. "That is a relief," she says. "But I would still know what ails you. How may I comfort you? Or rather, may you be comforted without me? Shall I go?"

Ikora presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. Light, but Eris is so unfailingly kind, regardless of her bluntness, despite all the violence and hatred she has weathered; despite Ikora's utter emotional incompetence. Ikora loves her for it, and that is the most terrifying knowledge of all.

Ikora forces herself to meet Eris' eyes over her own curled hands. "Stay. Please," she whispers. "Just. Don't touch me." If she does, Ikora might be devoured by her own inarticulate fear warring with desperate need.

Eris nods and pulls her feet a little further away from her, even though perplexion dominates her face. She studies Ikora with all the clever, relentless perceptiveness that she usually bends toward her life's work. That sharp mind has flayed the immortality from gods. Her scrutiny is as unforgiving as truth itself. Little wonder that Ikora looks away as revelation chases the intensity from her features. Whatever softer thing can subsume that, Ikora is not capable of facing.

"You fear this form more than my morph," Eris says in hushed wonder.

Ikora hides her face in her hands again. She would not have put it so, but neither can she deny it. This is Eris, as she has been the whole time. But at least last night, Ikora had been too preoccupied by the newness and dark splendor of her acolyte form to think about the terrible immensity of the feelings she has so long kept in check. Seeing Eris' familiar form before her now, so brazenly vulnerable, brings to bear the years of aching longing that she had never considered might be answered.

It isn't that she thought Eris did not care for her. She knows, in a million subtle ways she has tried not to dwell upon. She just never thought either of them would find room for each other within the straits of their callings. Eris must pursue the fall of the Hive regardless of the risks. Ikora must defend the Last City, and she will never forego her duty to it as Vanguard. Not like her predecessor.

Ikora had not considered the much more frightening possibility now before her: that Eris might accept her and still continue along a path that might yet lead to self-destruction. That Ikora might lose her after being given the briefest taste of knowing what it meant to have her.

"Perhaps this was untimely. Although I do not regret it," Eris says. She runs a hand through her hair with a sigh. "Ikora," she pleads. "Please speak to me."

Ikora nods. She gathers what scraps of clarity she can. "I don't either. Regret it," she adds in response to Eris' confused look. "But I think...you're right. About timeliness."

Eris smiles sadly. "That has always been our problem, has it not?" She curls comfortably onto her side, leaning against the headboard with her head resting on her hands. "Are we too early, or too late?"

Ikora shifts to a cross-legged position and holds her hands in her lap. "Yes? No?" She gives a short laugh as unsteady as a newborn foal. "I don't know. But this feels like it was always inevitable."

"I know what you mean. Yet I thought I closed the door on this path when I awoke the Harbinger. It seems I was mistaken..."

Ikora's heart goes painfully soft, as if leaning into a blow. She should have told Eris years ago, rather than let her think herself unlovable. But would she have believed her, back then?

"Eris," she begins in a low, quiet voice. "Everything you are is dear to me. Even this—even that part of you. Especially a part of you that brings you clarity, purpose. It's just—" Her voice cracks. "I can't love you the way I want to, the way you should be, not when I'm so scared for you."

Eris lets that sink in. "I understand," she says, tender and mournful all at once. "I do not blame you. But I can do this. I can end what the Hive began. And I must."

"I know." Ikora does not know what will happen. She cannot predict any possibility that will reconcile reality with the cry her heart is making.

Ikora looks around the room while she takes slow, deliberate breaths to steady herself. She takes in details that she had been too distracted to notice before. The quarters are modest, but sizable for a ship. Eris has attired it much like the rest of her temporary wing of the HELM. Deep red hangings soften the sharp industrial corners. Another large shelf of books and strange artifacts cover one wall. How had she chosen what to keep nearest? Below a dim lamp with mica shades, her Ahamkara bone rests in a small stone bowl on the bedside table. A cloth has been cast over it to dull its glare. The bed itself is simple but utterly comfortable; the sheets have the feel of linen worn soft with long use, even if they bear a few new claw-torn tears.

Eris heaves a great sigh, then asks: "What now?"

Ikora lies down at the foot of the bed in a mirror of Eris' position, limbs askew. She is only a meter or so away, yet so far out of reach. "I guess we continue as we were. Mostly. Until...after this." If Eris lives. If they both come through this ordeal still capable of loving each other.

"After," Eris muses. "Very well." Then a wry grin tugs at her lips. "It will be terribly hard, though, now that I know the sound of your heart." Dancing humor laces the earnestness in her voice.

"Eris." Ikora laughs into her hands in embarrassment. "I'll have to give you more Hidden work after all this to keep you busy, otherwise you'll break every heart in the Tower."

Eris chuckles, and it raises chills along Ikora’s arms. "I don't think that will be necessary. After." Her hand curls and uncurls beside her face, as if she were refusing the impulse to breach the gulf that separates them.

The brief shared humor fades like ripples on the water. Soon, only uncertainty and stumbling sorrow remain to echo between them.

"Eris?"

"Yes?"

"Can we just..." This hurts too much to leave so soon. "Can we have today, if nothing else?"

Ikora can see the way Eris tamps down her own hope in the set of her shoulders. She despises herself a little for causing that, but not enough to not ask.

"Would that not only hurt more?" Eris says softly.

"Maybe. But I would rather give you a reason to come back."

Eris holds her stare, lips pressed together in indecision. Ikora curls in on herself with shame at her own presumption.

"Oh, come here, my love," Eris relents. She opens her arms.

Uncoiling, Ikora crosses the distance between them. She only hesitates a moment before tucking herself into Eris' embrace, shaky with nervous relief. She presses her spread hands to Eris' back, along her now smooth but still scarred shoulders. Did the Harbinger's spines erupt individually from the lines of those old wounds? "I'm here," she says, muffled against her. They lie there heart to heart, skin to skin. Even channeling Solar light has never made her feel this blessedly warm.

"Just today," Eris agrees.

"Just today." Ikora draws back just enough to look Eris in the eyes. She caresses her face, brushes her thumb across the unevenness of the scars just above her cheekbone. The prickling ink pools thickest there, but evaporates quickly.

"Don't forget that you are wanted for yourself. Not just for what you can do," Ikora says.

With that she kisses Eris deeply, achingly, searingly. Eris responds like a flower to the sun. The sound of unashamed pleasure that hums in her throat makes Ikora feel more wanted than she has ever been. And in this stolen moment, her want is greater than ever, as well. This time she gives it free rein with premeditated intent. She traces her passion along every curve of Eris' mouth, the arch of her neck, even the tender scarred lids of her eyes. She commits every part of her to memory, from her strong, stout arms to her soft, thick waist to the proud arc of her spine below the troubled skin.

"All of you," Ikora breathes. The hitch in Eris' heartbeat beneath her lips tells her she does not need to explain.

The warmth of skin threatens to destroy her as completely and utterly as the crystalline vacuum of space. But as she sinks into the contact, it soon soothes the part of Ikora that is shivering.

7 notes · View notes

mariatesstruther · 5 months

Note

okay just hear me out modern au where tommy ends up picking up ellie from pre school almost everyday since joel is busy but he keeps meeting teacher maria

okay bestie as a preschool teacher you GOT me with this one. like you got me SO GOOD. this might actually get published to ao3, you got me soooo fuckin’ good right now. i have so many unnecessary details for such a simple plot so here’s a cut

tbh i feel like even as busy as joel is, he’d prioritize picking up and dropping of sarah as much as he can, so maybe he and tommy would alternate???? so on days when tommy drops off, joel picks up and when joel drops off, tommy picks up. sarah goes to a public preschool with a lot of kids, so she gets easily overwhelmed and sometimes needs extra cuddles or kind words in the mornings to make it out of the car.

one monday, a couple months into school, sarah is particularly VERY anxious because there’s a new teacher to replace ms. doherty, who quit unexpectedly on friday “because she said we gave her alooooottt of headaches, daddy.” now, sarah knows nothing about the new teacher except that shes a girl from a place called new york—and sarah doesn’t even know what new yawk IS like, thats So Far Away??? (“it’s not really that far, baby,” joel says to her. “and it’s new york. with an o sound.”) still, sarah is VERY concerned:

is new yawk like another planet???? (no, babygirl.) but what if she’s an alien???? (the school only hires human teachers, baby. they promised.) but what if she’s a SECRET alien??? (she won’t be, i promise.) okay but what if she’s mean???? (if she is, you tell me or tommy and we’ll talk to her about it, okay? she shouldn’t be mean to you.) what if she doesn’t play good music at quiet time???? (you can ask her nicely and i bet she will, baby. just say please and thank you, okay?)

still, even with her questions answered, sarah is very nervous on monday. both joel and tommy go with her in an effort to start her day off extra good, especially because joel can’t pick her up. they reassure her that new york has plenty of nice people and her new teacher will probably be one of them. she also gets TWO WHOLE extra minutes of cuddle time with BOTH of them before she and daddy have to leave the car—it’s half for her and half for them, because they’re honestly pretty anxious for her to like her new teacher too

joel is the one to hold sarah’s hand and walk her inside, because the school prefers only one guardian to drop off at a time. tommy’s nervous, but joel actually seems pretty pleased when he gets back to the car with no sarah in tow. surprisingly, he’s back faster than any time they’ve ever dropped sarah off before. with a proud smile, he tells tommy is that miss maria seems really nice. more importantly, she’s Black, which joel says Sarah got really excited about. tommy pries for more details, and he’s glad he does: apparently miss maria has locs, a few even blue and purple, and the first thing sarah’d said to her was an emphatic “😲😍🤩 i like your hair!!!!!!!!,” to which she had responded “thank you! i like your hair! what’s your name, sweets?” and that’d been that

later, when tommy does pickup that day, he doesn’t know what to expect. most times at the end of the day, sarah is super reserved and a bit cranky, eager to get home to finally have time to herself. tommy’s goal is usually to try and get her to at least wave goodbye to her teachers like joel asks—but, more often than not, she opts for reaching for uppies and hiding her face in his chest until they leave.

today??? no. it takes sarah a full two minutes to even notice tommy’s there because her and this drop-dead-fucking-gorgeous woman in a soft-looking lavender pants and blouse set are finishing up a painting at the easel wall. they’re working on what looks like a brown and purple butterfly, probably the most carefully shaped sarah’s ever made.

tommy’s heart stops when this goddess miss maria finally looks over at him and smiles with perfect pearly-whites, waving him over behind sarah’s back. when she says “sarah honey, i think someone’s here for you!” in her sing-songy toddler-tone, tommy swears an angel gets his wings. sarah turns around, shrieks with joy upon seeing him, and runs down to him with her arms out, yelling all the while: “THOMMYYYYYYY!!!!!”—because sarah’s still working on her hard ts—“thommy!!!! thommy thommy thommy come look!!! i made a butterfly for u!!!!! look!!!!! it matches ms. maria!!!!!! it’s gorgeous!!!!” (she’s been obsessed with calling things gorgeous ever since she heard tommy say it about a harley motorbike last week. joel especially thinks it’s cute, especially because of how she over-emphasizes the j-sound: gor-Jus.)

tommy’s never seen her so excited to show her art off at pickup-time before; usually, she waits until they’re home and she’s feeling less shy to start showing off, but she’s babbling and pointing to it as he picks her up and sets her on his hip: “it’s brown and purple like miss maria!!! isnt it so gorgeous, unca thommy??? do you like it???? aren’t they SO gorgeous????”

and now miss maria is looking at him. and he’s looking at her. tommy knows he’s blushing, and he hesitates—which sarah does NOT appreciate, so she says: “unca tommy!!!!!!! don’t be WUDE! thell miss maria she’s gorgeous!!! she is!!!”

luckily, miss maria saves him by explaining, in a slightly firmer teaching voice: “sarah sweets, that’s okay! we’re only just meeting, and that’s not really something you say to a stranger, okay?”

“but why noooooooot?? you are gorgeous! like my butterfly! isn’t she so gorgeous, thommy?”

“well, yeah, of course,” tommy agrees easily, because she obviously is—and shit. now miss maria is looking at him like he’s a fucking bonehead, because he obviously fucking is. “but—uh, i mean—she’s right, hon’. you gotta listen to your teacher, and that’s not somethin’ you say to a stranger, okay?”

but then, after thinking to her tiny self for a few seconds: “well if she stays my teacher then she’s not a stranger, is she???” sarah asks tommy, then turns her conniving little head towards maria, too. “and you said you’d stay! so can he say you’re gorgeous tomorrow?” then, without waiting for an answer, she’s back towards tommy to finish: “i think you should call her gorgeous tomorrow.”

“i think we should go home, s’what i think,” tommy says, finally deciding to save himself from four-year-old torment. he sets sarah down and pats her on the end with a gentle but firm request to go get her stuff from her cubby, which she goes to do without her complaints of being too tired to walk. maria watches them closely with a close-lipped but relaxed grin. when sarah’s out of earshot, he apologizes. “sorry ‘bout that, ma’am.”

“don’t be,” miss maria teases, crossing her arms. “you did call me gorgeous, after all. i’ve had worse introductions.”

“tommy miller,” he offers, moving to shake her hand. he notices her nails are done-up, a sparkly blend of pretty shades of purple that look tie-dyed on somehow. her hands aren’t soft, not really, but they’re smooth enough to make him shiver as he pulls away. “sarah’s uncle.”

“oh, i know,” she reassures, then nods her head pointedly towards sarah. the little one is coming back towards them with her lunchbox in one hand and her water bottle in the other, walking extra careful so she doesn’t trip over herself like she did last week, tommy guesses. clearly fond, maria continues. “she spent all day telling me about you and her daddy. you’re doing great with her.”

“unca thommy! i’m ready to go!” sarah sing-songs, interrupting whatever miss maria might’ve said next. internally, tommy thanks his niece—the you’re doing great was already enough to make him cry, and he’d rather not do so in front of either her or her amazing new teacher. plopping her lunch and bottle at tommy’s feet, sarah gives not one, but two eager waves to miss maria, hands flapping madly up towards the woman’s face. “bye miss mariaaaaa!!!! i’ll see you tomorrow!!!!”

“bye sarah sweets!” maria says back, waving just as enthusiastically. to tommy, she raises an amused, teasing eyebrow. just loud enough for him to hear as he turns away, he hears her say “bye, gorgeous,” and laugh, giving yet another angel a pair of wings.

it takes everything in him to not fall straight to the floor, toppling his own precious niece, right then. he doesn’t think he even breathes until both he and Sarah are secured in the car, him in the front and her in her carseat. she’s already babble singing mary j. blige’s “just fine,” which they usually play and sing on their way home from school to help her regulate. when he plays the song this time, sarah smiles bright at him through the rearview and says “i already feel just fine, unca tommy!!! but can we still play it, just for fun?”

“of course, baby,” he says, and start singing along with her. he’s feeling just fine, too.

🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

tagging some homies (btw just let me know if u wanna be tagged in this kinda stuff or not guys! im never sure lol): @becomethesun @clickergossip @boilingcowboy @bumblepony

#tbh i might edit this and put it on ao3 #im so sorry i didnt get ti the falling in love part at all but i LOVE a good meet-cute #*to #and this is i think my favorite one i’ve put on this blog???????#anon. bestie. you did so well i love u thank u #if yall didnt know already im a preschool teacher so #and have i dreamed abt a rich hot younger single parent/gaurdian falling in love with me???? you fuckin betcha #preschool au #im 100% gonna try to connect this with the one rose and i already made #idk where ellie is in here but she’s here!!!! she loves miss maria too!#miss maria loves kids and especially loves embracing neurodiversity and all the different ways kids brains works #miss maria provides brain breaks and shows you how to do body checks to check in with your body #miss maria understands the importance of diversity in her book and media selection #miss maria recommends tab time and bluey #tommy x maria #tlou au #the tipsy bison #ugh I LOVE THISSSSSS BROOOO IM PROUD OF THIS 🫶🏾#yeas i have plans for tess and joel YOU BET I DO #when ur kids having play dates turns into u dating their mom #tess and joel: who am i gonna date??? i have no time. im a parent #ellie and sarah: hold my juicebox #like theyre fully setting them up with no clue that they’re doing it I LOVE MY LITTLE GIRLS #she calls them sarah sweets and ellie enchanted #she’s referencing ella enchanted but elie doesnt care about that so she explains it means ellie is magic #and ellie is down for that because in her brain magic equal dragon. ellie LOVES dragons #sarah miller #toddler sarah #baby sarah #neurodivergent miller tag

43 notes · View notes